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piratesfromspace · 3 years ago

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Finance Management (Deckard Shaw/Reader)

Deckard Shaw (Fast & Furious) x Reader

Word count: 1.9k CW: mention of food & alcohol, smut

Female reader

Note: This short fic has been inspired by a friend of mine who created the character of the financial advisor of mister Shaw. Also there is not enough fics with Deckard Shaw so here we are.

Read on Ao3

MASTERLIST

“Mister Shaw, it’s me again, I’m so sorry but I really need you to call me back please. It’s important. Thank you.”

You let out a deep sigh as you hang up. Handling the finances of rich people is a lucrative and thrilling job, but damn it sometimes those clients of yours are annoying. Especially Mister Shaw.

First, he’s annoyingly busy and unreachable. Most powerful people are, but he can disappear for weeks on end without so much as sending an email.

Second, he’s also infuriatingly handsome and smart and funny. And he has an impeccable sense of style. He has nothing in common with the other clients of your firm, mainly old and boring men, whose only conversation subject is their money and how they hate their wives.

And finally, the worst thing about him is how good of a lover he is. You found out half a year ago, when you ended up in his bed after what should have been a regular business dinner. It was a mistake of course. One that could have cost you your career because it was a very serious breach of contract to sleep with a client.

You never told a soul, and you promised yourself to never do it again. But it was still hard to forget the feeling of him pressed against you, of his hands holding your waist, of his mouth between your thighs...

You try to focus again on your task and stretch your legs, kicking out your high heels. Feet bare on the soft carpet, you walk to the floor-to-ceiling window of your posh office, taking a second to admire the view, as the final rays of the sun disappear over the lake, and Geneva lights up under you. It’s breath-taking, really. But it also means you’re once again staying way too late at the office. Your assistant has gone home a couple hours ago, and your colleagues are either on vacation or on business trips, making you the only person on the building’s 7th floor. You still have a few things to finish so you plop on your leather chair and get back to work, hoping to make it home before 11pm.

That’s when you hear it: the familiar *ding* of the elevator’s door, at the end of the corridor. You tense immediately. You’re not waiting for anyone, and the security guards always use the stairs when completing their patrol.

Steps are coming down your way, and you grab your phone, ready to dial for the security team. And then you recognize his silhouette through the polished glass wall. There is a knock on your door before it opens to reveal Deckard Shaw himself. He’s wearing an expensive suit and an even more expensive watch, a very light stubble is highlighting his perfect jawbone and his deep grey eyes bear a mischievous glint. Handsome, as always.

“Mister Shaw…” you stammer.

“You know you can call me Deckard.” His stupidly sexy British accent and cocky smile will be the death of you.

He’s been in your office for two seconds and you already want to slap him in the face - or climb him like a tree, you can’t really decide.

“It’s quite late, Mister Shaw, you scared me. Anything I can do for you?” you insist on saying his family name, in a feeble attempt to maintain a professional façade.

“You needed to see me.” it’s more a comment than a question, and you’re suddenly reminded of the dozen of unanswered phone calls you made trying to reach him.

“Yes… yes, that’s right, but honestly you could have called tomorrow morning.”

“I’d rather see you in person.” he answers, looking you straight in the eyes. You can feel yourself blushing under his gaze. “Wanted to make sure you’re alright. You’re working too much you know.” he says with a soft smile, as his eyes drift down to your sore bare feet and then to the discarded heels under your desk.

What a condescending prick, you think. But at the same time, he’s right and his care seems somewhat genuine. It will not make you forget you almost lost your job because of him though.

“How did you know I was still here tonight?” you purposely redirect the attention on him, rather than you.

“Well, let’s say I would not leave the woman in charge of my assets without any... supervision.”

“Is that a polite way to say you’ve been spying on me?” you retort dryly.

“Oh I love when you’re getting all angry and snobbish, your French accent is even cuter.”

You’re gonna murder him. You really really want to tell him to go fuck himself, but he’s the one responsible for a very generous part of your paycheck, so you have to keep quiet.

“I would be more comfortable if we keep our conversation strictly professional, Mister Shaw.”

“Everything you want, dear.”

-----

“Mmph, fu-ck... Deckard, don’t stop”

The professional attitude has been long forgotten, since Deckard has pulled you onto his lap on the velvet couch of his presidential suite at the Four Seasons hotel, where you were supposed to only review the important documents he needed to see. But when the room service had brought a very nice bottle of Scotch, you knew you were screwed. You could not refuse a drink, and the warmth of alcohol combined with the warmth of his hand slightly brushing against your thigh had overcome all your resolve.

You are now sprawled on the king-size bed, moaning his name as Deckard Shaw is destroying your sanity very methodically. One foot on the floor, one leg bent on the edge of the bed, he’s pounding into you, holding your hip with one hand, and circling your clit with the other. His pace is calculated, not too fast so you can feel every inch of him, but not too slow so your nerves don’t have any respite, and it’s driving you crazy. Hands tangled in the dark silk sheets beneath you, you try to catch your breath to no avail.

“I won’t stop darling. Not until I can feel you coming again all over me.” His voice is like heavy honey, dripping all over your senses, drowning you in sweet and sinful promises.

You want to close your eyes to focus on the overwhelming feelings, but the view in front of you is too good to be missed. He looks like some demi-god, bathed in the subdued light of the room, broad and muscular chest, abs perfectly drawn. What is his job again? You vaguely remember him talking about serving a few years in the military when he was younger, but he is still definitely hitting the gym on a regular basis.

His muscles flex when he brings you down on his thick cock a little more sharply than before, and you keen as he hits that perfect spot inside of you. You can feel your orgasm build again, and so can he.

“You’re close, princess, aren’t you?”

You mewl in response and he chuckles darkly, keeping up with his ruthless assault on your most sensitive parts. He angles his fingers just a bit differently on your clit, and keeps thrusting into you, stretching you so perfectly you can’t remember the last time someone fucked you this good - wait , actually you can, it was a few months ago and it was by mister Deckard “annoyingly perfect” Shaw.

“Come on, I know you want to, I’ll keep going until you give me one more anyway princess…”

And that's it. You’re gone. Back arching off the bed, you come hard, harder than the first time, clenching around him. You barely hear him hiss in pleasure as you spasm helplessly on the soft sheets, the silk feeling almost cool against your burning skin.

----

“Good morning darling."

You open an eye, natural light is flooding the room, as is the delicious smell of fresh coffee and tea. At the foot of the bed, you spot a room service trolley loaded with breakfast treats and through the open door of the bathroom, you can see Deckard is looking at you in the mirror reflection while buttoning a crisp white shirt.

"Your tea is ready. Black, no milk, right?”

He's right and it's annoying because is there anything this man messes up?

"What time is it?" You ask, suddenly remembering you have a busy schedule today.

"You have 27 minutes to eat and get ready, so I can drop you off at your office in time for your first call of the day."

He knows about your tea preferences and your professional agenda, of course he does , he was not joking when mentioning the whole "spying-on-you" situation, or "supervision" as he liked to call it. He needs to stop it, but you decide to keep this discussion for another day.

You stretch, and rise to put on the hotel bathrobe, sighing at the thought of having to wear the same clothes as yesterday. Last you saw them, they were scattered on the floor all over the room and your underwear were positively ruined.

"The concierge was very helpful this morning, thanks to him I got you a few clothes delivered for today." Deckard adds as he pours himself a cup of coffee from the cart and gestures to the leather armchair where a couple of bags doning logos of luxury brands are perched.

You make your way to the packages, and open the first one to reveal a sophisticated dress, fitted and sexy, but not too much that it would be inappropriate as office wear. The second bag is a thoughtful selection of high end make-up products. And the last one contains a gorgeous set of lacy lingerie, nothing too raunchy but sexy nonetheless. Of course everything is in the right size.

"Thank you..." you whisper, a little stunned. The assortment must have cost him a couple grands at the very least - not that he can't afford it because you're well placed to be sure he can, but still, he did not have to do this.

You have to suppress a smile, because damn he's being annoyingly perfect once more, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction to reveal he was right when promising you could stay the night instead of going home and still look fresh for your day at work.

"I was thinking, I'm free tonight, so maybe we can finally review those documents, you know the ones you were supposed to show me before you jumped on me on the couch last night?" Deckard states as he bites in an apple in front of the window, casually looking at lake Geneva glinting in the bright morning sun.

You blush unwillingly, struggling to find a reply that would save you from admitting you had failed at enforcing your usual work ethic.

"I'm kidding dear!" He barks in a laugh. "I know enough to trust you on this venture, you have my approval to go on with the investment." He continues more seriously.

You open your mouth to answer but he's quicker.

"I'm not kidding about being free though, so what about dinner and then we can see where this takes us…"

When you don't answer immediately, he turns to look at you. Maybe he's realizing the situation can be awkward and precarious for you since you're technically working for him.

"You can say no, I won't take any offense." He adds without irony.

"Yes..." You finally answer, tip toeing toward him until you can snatch the apple he was eating from him. He protests but you shush him.

"...Yes, I would like this very much..."

As he starts to protest again, you take a big bite from the fruit with a knowing smile.

"...but only for dinner. Nothing more."

"You'll be the death of me." Deckard says, falsely irritated, his voice dropping lower.

"At least the feeling is mutual, mister Shaw ..."

#deckard shaw #deckard shaw x reader #female reader #fast and furious #hobbs and shaw #deckard shaw fanfiction #hobbs and shaw fanfiction #deckard shaw / reader #jason statham #jason statham imagine #smut #hobbs and shaw smut #deckard shaw reader insert #fast and furious fanfiction

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dilftaroooo · 4 years ago

Note

hi! can you please write a nsfw oneshot for dio brando x fem! reader ? to be a little specific; can you add a boss/assistant dynamic & corruption kink? tysm ( ◠‿◠ )❣️

mmm corruption kink. thats absolutely my fav, anon 🤤. i'll be more than happy to write it for you. enjoy!

(business office au)

you gotta earn it. (boss!dio x secretary!reader)

word count: //1.7k+//

synopsis: you want that raise? then show mr.brando what it is you're willing to give up to him. it's only fair.

tw/tags: dubcon, nipple play, corruption kink, size difference (not heavily mentioned though), business attire, afab reader, cute virgin reader.

"No."

Those words left you speechless; stiff in your spot as you looked into piercing, yellow, eyes. He said it in such a nonchalant manner, you don't think he even took a double take on your question. You spent so much effort to muster up the courage to ask your boss the question that you dread to be answered - but not in this way. He must have made a mistake.

"'No'...?" You echoed.

Dio leaned back in his seat, eye contact never faltering as he crossed his legs, burgundy colored dress pants ruffled at the movement. He tilted his head in a mocking manner as one well groomed eyebrow raised upwards.

"Oh dear. Perhaps my beloved secretary has gone deaf? I shall repeat myself once more: 'No' meaning, 'No, I will not offer you a raise.'"

Your fist clenched as you try to fight back the tears of humiliation and neglect. Why? Why did he refuse you? You worked so hard for him and you knew he knew that. So why won't he give you this raise? Leave it to Dio to crumble up your acts of valor and throw them into a fiery pit.

Trying to regain your composure, you speak up,

"But, sir, Why? I've done so much for you these past couple years; schedule your meetings, review your records and documents, compose orientations for newcomers. I even make sure to make your coffee each morning - a long black with two shots of expresso."

Your eyes were becoming wet. You were on brink of breaking down and crying right in front of your boss. You don't even think he was the slightest bit convinced by your retort. All he did was observe you with a wicked smirk plastered on his face. There was no change in his features but, reluctantly, you resume.

"Please, Mr.Brando. Please give me this raise. I-I'll try to do better for you! Just tell me what it is I need to do. Please, I'll do anything, Mr.Brando."

Dio stiffened. It was that keyword that gained his attention: 'anything'.

"'Anything', you say?" You nod and a flash of his white teeth glimmered from the building's colorless light on the ceiling. His chuckle was deep. "Think before spouting careless words such as that, my little mouse." The small squeak emerges from his office chair as he gets up, approaching your meek figure and you cower at his nearness. His fingers gently grasped your hair and you notice how well kept they were - manicured with a clear polish and decorated with gold rings. You didn't miss the Rolex watch wrapped around his wrist.

"Such pretty hair," He lightly plays with your mane before tightening his grip and hoisting your head up, forcing you to look directly at him. "You don't mind if I tug on it do you, love?" He adores the wince you let out, eyes scrunched close with pain.

"Ouch! Mr.Brando, Please stop-"

"Oh but you said you would do anything for me, remember? So I'm allowed to use you however I please. You want a raise, don't you?" Your face burns when his lips feather against the skin of your cheek. You heave out a low sigh at his deed. Dio deliberately consumes your reaction - savoring it like the smoothest red wine.

"Have you ever been fucked before, dear?" The amorous question made you whine. This was just too dirty. You shake your head for an answer.

"N-No, sir."

"Really? You've never been touched before? No one has ever pounded that filthy, little, pussy of yours? Tsk, tsk, tsk - What a shame. Looks like I have to change that." He lets go of your scalp but your head never moves, eyes still on his frame as you process his words.

"Wait, Mr.Brando, please. I've never- oh!" You were put to an abrupt stop when he picked you up from under your arms and legs before setting you down on his desk. It messy with scattered documents he found frivolous and purposeless, there were much more important matters at hand.

Tearing off your white dress shirt and bra in a blink of an eye, he gave your mounds a carnivorous stare, gulping at your nipples swell at his glance. He wasted no time kneading them. You let out a moan from his heated touch. It was foreign to you.

"What a lewd sound you made just now, Y/n. You like this, right? I barely even started." His fingers teased your stiff buds, pinching and pulling at them.

"Ngh- No, Mr.Brando..."

His touches were blunt and straightforward, they were rough as he assailed your fragile body. He was fervent to take it to the next step. He lifts your legs up to take off your pencil skirt.

He lets out a delighted sigh beyond seeing your choice of underwear. "Lacy panties? Was my little mouse expecting this? Getting all dressed up for your boss. You're such a nasty fucking girl."

"That's not true! I was in a rush to-"

"Excuses, excuses. That's all I hear from you. Shut up and take your panties off. I want to see how wet your cunt is." You obeyed under his stern tone - slowly stripping off your red-laced panties. You still had your legs closed, ashamed to show him your untouched flower but Dio pried them open by your knees. Your heady scent instantly fills his nose and he takes this time to observe your pussy, you were soaked - vagina pulsating, waiting for anything to be plunged inside, trimmed hairs placed on your pubic area, clit swollen with excitement. It was remarkable.

"Look at you, throbbing so greedily." He puts two thickset fingers in your sopping pussy without warning." An invevitable moan escaped your lips when he applied pressure to your g-spot.

"M-Mr.Brando - mmmm - that spot, you're hitting that-"

"Quiet, little mouse. As much as I love to hear you scream did you forget the setting we're in right now? I hate the idea of someone seeing this pretty pussy other than me." You pitch your voice down an octave - not too fond of the idea of being caught by your coworkers (especially by Jonathan).

His digits rapidly thrash inside you, bodily fluids flew everywhere. "You're making such a mess all over me. So sloppy. I have no doubt that this is what my little mouse wanted. Your grip is so firm around me." Your small hand cover your painted lips. You didn't want anyone to hear you but Dio was making it all too hard, he was hitting all of the right spots within you.

Pulling his fingers out, he unzips his flyer and sought out for his cock. His length was huge, you were unsure if you should even continue. His member intimidated you. Dio knew you were on edge, he softly coos at your expression.

"Aw, don't worry, sweetheart. You'll only feel a slight pinch." Aiming his shaft to your entrance, you recoil once he plummets inside of you, tip kissing your womb. What you felt was more than a pinch. it was easily comparable to being stabbed in your nether regions. Tears flowed from your eyes.

"Pull out! Please, it huuurts!" Your cries were ignored as Dio continued slamming into you like no tomorrow. He covered your mouth with his large hand, muffling your wails.

"Ah- You feel that? My cock jabbing at your womb?" His thrust slow down so you can feel every inch of him - veins feeling more prominent than before. "That's how deep I go inside of you. This tiny body of yours can't handle a cock like mine. Ha! And would you look at that, I can even see your stomach bulging from my dick. How filthy."

He traced his fingers along the bulge forming near your abdomen. He rams in you relentlessly. You gripped the sleeves of his business suit, wrinkling them while doing so. Dio was fired up by the calls of his name leaving your lips, making him go at a, almost inhuman, pace.

Vulgar slaps of skin filled the room and you were both close to coming. Dio's hot breaths reached your ear and his thrusts losses its initial tempo.

"You're a few inches away from getting that raise, sweetheart. Just let me fill you with my seed." He bites the crevice of your neck - his teeth were sharp.

"Mr.Brando-! I'm gonna come...Agh- Mr.Brando... D-Dio!" Said man met his high after his name was yelped - relieved to let himself go, his cum spurts deep in your walls. You came shortly after by the feeling of him filling you up. Both of you sigh.

He hoists himself up off of you to put his dick back in his pants and fix his attire. You grimace at the slimy fluids now sticking between your legs. Dio scoffed. "Consider yourself lucky, little mouse. You finally got that raise you so desparately wanted. What's wrong with a little cum in you, hm?"

A bit irritated, you get dressed as well, getting ready to leave his office. But before you can exit, he turns you around to face him, eyebrow lifted in question.

"Leaving now? Have you forgotten what to say?" You assume he wanted some form of gratitude from you for giving you a raise.

"Thank you, Di-

"Hmmm? Did I fuck you so dense you forgot who I am to you?" You blush at his smile.

"T-Thank you, Mr.Brando."

"Good girl. Run along now." He slaps your ass before you leave.

"Dio, why do you smell like sweat? The only thing you do is sign papers and present at meetings." Jonathan frowned at Dio's pungent scent. The man chortled at Jonathan's exasperation. If only he knew what happened behind closed doors.

"Don't worry about it, JoJo. A little boy like you wouldn't understand."

"We're the same age, Dio."

"Oh yeah. You're right. You have such the resemblance of a child that I must've forgotten." Dio teases. The both head to the parking lot of their company to call to it a night. Jonathan clenched his teeth.

"I do not! Just what in the hell were you doing in your office? Working out?"

Dio roared out a large laugh at the word akin to what you and him did earlier today.

"Yeah.. you can call it that."

this fic belongs to @dilftaroooo

#jjba smut #jjba x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #dio x reader #jojo smut #dio brando #business au #anon request #tw: dubcon #tw: corruption #requests. [👘]

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purplesong1028 · 2 years ago

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The Perfect Storm

Chapter 4: A Gentle Reminder

Miguel tries to forget that night ever happened. It was just a mistake, a terrible lapse of judgment. Or was it?

Rating: General Audience

Paring: Pacho/Miguel

Words: 2,816

A week after the storm, everything resumes to normal. After all, it was just a tropical storm, not a hurricane. It’s nothing new, not even something worth mentioning in small talks, and Miguel fully intends to keep it that way. A few more days later, Amado brings him a silver briefcase after coming back from the airport.

“It came from Cali. They said it was for you.”

“Did they say what it’s about?” Miguel feels the weight in his arms. It’s quite heavy for its size, so probably not documents. What could it be? A full bag of new product samples?

“No, but I gave it to your security first and they vetted it. It’s safe.”

“Ok, I’ll see what they want later.” He sets it aside. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll leave you to it.”

As soon as Amado walks out and closes the door again, he immediately brings the briefcase up to the desk, and unlocks it.

It’s a full bag of neatly stacked cash. What? Why would Cali…Oh.

It was less than two weeks ago, but he honestly already forgot about the poker game, and the fact that Pacho owed him a million dollars. He rarely ever forgets about the money he’s owed, but frankly, it’s understandable this time. A million dollars really became utterly insignificant after some other stuff happened after the bet.

He forces that piece of memory out of his mind, and picks up a stack of cash. He’s not trying to count, but just wants to feel it against his fingertips. Many years ago, shortly after he got into the weed business and had the first stack of cash in his hand, he did this exact same thing. The bills were dirty and wrinkled, but they felt so nice, even smelt nice. That pure bliss of having cash in his hands, having any money, he still remembers it until this day.

But that’s not what he’s feeling now. Cash doesn’t faze him anymore, at least not with this amount, but victory does, and money is just one representation of winning.

Miguel puts the cash back, aligning the edges to make sure everything is perfectly stacked. Sometimes he still handles the bribes himself, when the amount is especially large or when the recipients are important. In those circumstances, presentation truly matters a lot, so it has become a habit for him at this point.

Something hard and cold touches his fingers. That’s strange. That’s definitely not the bottom of the briefcase, so there’s something else in there. Of course there’s something else in there! He grabs the stacks of cash around it, throwing them out, revealing the hidden object: it’s a pink candle.

A fucking pink candle.

The weird sicario, the darkness, Pacho’s face under candlelight, his body, their bodies…

All memories rush back into his brain, regardless of his best efforts to suppress and erase them. It’s humiliating, debilitating, like an addict having a relapse after swearing to get clean.

He hurls it across the room under blind rage. It crashes into a wall and shatters, glass pieces falling soundless on the carpet.

“Señor? Are you alright?” His security knocks.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Miguel grabs the glass of whisky and drinks a large gulp, trying to calm his nerves. No, he can’t lose control. This is exactly what the fucking Colombian wants to see. He’s not falling into the trap, not again.

But why even bother sending the cash, if that candle is the real “gift”? Why not just add a million to their usual payment, and just send the candle on its own? Wouldn’t that be more blaring? Get the point across easier?

Wait…wait.

Miguel rushes back to the briefcase and pours all the cash out. He swears, if there’s one cent more than a million in there, he’s going to kill that asshole. He will. The stacks are scattered everywhere: on the table, the couch, the floor, and he picks them up one by one, frantically counting, one, two, three… The paranoid part of him really wants to take each one apart, just to make sure there are 100 one hundred dollar bills in each stack, and not one more. But he stops himself. This whole time, he’s been preventing himself from going crazy, and hand counting every single bill to a million dollars sounds exactly like what an insane person would do.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take that long to pick up a hundred stacks of cash, but by the time he has piled them back together, he’s covered in a layer of thin sweat. It is exactly a million. Nothing less, nothing more, but it doesn’t bring him the slightest comfort.

How did he let a simple bag of cash that he’s rightfully owed and a stupid candle trigger him into full blown rage? This isn’t like him. He hasn’t been like himself since the day he returned from Panama.

Most nights have been sleepless, which is nothing new, but his mind is occupied by a different kind of thoughts: exciting, erotic, beautiful even, if he’s completely honest with himself. Yet it keeps him on his toes, keeps his mind and body awake while his pretty young wife lies right besides him. Sometimes he would wait for her to wake up and hold her soft body in his arms, taking whatever he wants, chasing a temporary release, but more often, he can’t even be bothered.

It was just one night, one lapse of judgment, one derailed mistake. It’s supposed to be nothing, but he knows that’s a lie. How could it be nothing when it made him angry, confused, and although for just a brief moment, wholeheartedly relaxed and happy? Nothing, no one else has been able to do that, not for a very long time. If it’s about sex, he’s done that with so many gorgeous women; if it’s about novelty, he still doesn’t feel anything towards any man. If it’s about the person…he hates everything about the person.

It doesn’t make any sense, but he wants it. Fuck…he craves it.

Miguel runs a hand down his face and takes a look at his watch. It’s almost time for dinner. He should eat something and put all these useless thoughts behind. They will disappear one day; eventually they won’t matter as time passes by. That’s always the case, plus he has a lot more important matters to occupy his mind with. He agreed to larger shipments, so his organization needs to deliver that promise.

He calls his secretary in, asks her to get someone to clean shattered glass pieces off the floor, put the bag of cash aside and bring him dinner. She nods at his commands and walks out, and then, a cleaning lady and two security guys walk in, each doing their task silently without disturbing him, efficient and organized. Within a few minutes, all evidence disappeared without a trace.

The secretary comes back after another fifteen minutes with his dinner, along with a box of freshly baked cupcakes.

“Your wife stopped by earlier, sir, and she asked me to give this to you.”

Miguel looks at the cupcakes. They’re very pretty, of course, everything Daniela does is pretty. She worked at an art gallery after all.

“Did she say anything else?”

“She said she’s going out for dinner tonight, but she’ll be back before midnight.”

“Ok, thanks.” Honestly, he’s not sure what she does or who she hangs out with these days, and he doesn’t really care, and he knows she doesn’t care what he does either. He’s ok with that.

The phone rings, and the secretary turns to leave without being asked, closing the door behind her.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.” There’s some background noise on Amado’s side. “I’m back at the airport, just wanted to tell you that we should be ready for the larger shipment this weekend.”

“This weekend? That’s earlier than expected, right?”

“Yeah, we’re all good here! I could have told you earlier, but just wanted to talk to a few more guys to make sure.”

“That’s good! Great job, Amado.”

“Yeah, no problem. Just let me know when the next shipment is coming.”

“Of course.”

He puts down the phone and picks up a cupcake. Usually he doesn’t like dessert or other sweet things in general, but good news with business always puts him under a better mood.

It’s only after he finishes dinner, he realizes that he will need to call Pacho and tell him they’re ready for the shipment— the last person he wants to speak with at the moment.

It’s stupid, he knows. There is absolutely no way to avoid or ignore Pacho if he wants to keep doing business with Cali. Even if he tries to avoid direct contact, the act itself would appear as weakness and defeat, and he will never allow that, so might as well just rip the band-aid off.

Business carries on; the world carries on. He sits there for a while, indulging the nervousness and paranoia in his mind, until they naturally calm down just enough for him to take action.

He grabs the phone and dials the now familiar number.

For some reason, it takes significantly longer for the other side to answer this time.

“Hello?” After six or seven rings, he almost hangs up when Pacho’s voice comes through, smooth and calm as usual, but it sounds different to him now, because all he hears is this exact same voice whispering seductively in his ear, in complete darkness.

“Hello.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “Is this a bad time?”

“I answered, didn’t I? But it better be important if you’re calling at this hour.”

What hour? Miguel frowns and turns to the clock: it’s already 12:30?! How long was he zoned out for? Now his reason will just sound ridiculous. No one calls at midnight to say they can deliver the shipment early. For a second, he almost wishes that he actually has some business crisis going on, so he can be saved from this embarrassment.

“You’re still there?” Pacho speaks again, audibly more impatient.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to call at this time but…” He pinches his nose bridge. Well, something is better than nothing. “I just wanted to tell you we’re ready for the next shipment, if you want to send it a week or two earlier.”

There’s nothing but complete silence for at least 10 seconds, not even the sound of breathing. His palm starts to sweat, making it more difficult to hold the phone.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah…look, I just lost track of...”

“Of what?” Pacho interrupts him. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Of time!” The coldness and accusation in the other man’s voice turns his own embarrassment into irritation and defensiveness. Why does the Colombia always have to be such a fucking asshole?! “What, it’s never happened to you before?”

Pacho scoffs, the contempt still very clear across thousands of miles, on the other end of a phone.

“Fine, sorry to interrupt whatever you were doing.” He wraps up the conversation in the politest manner he can manage, ready to just hand up and toss the phone.

“And what are you really doing, Miguel?”

His finger freezes on the red button, like he’s bespelled by the sound of his own name. Pacho has never called him that. At first it was Félix, and then Miguel Ángel, but never just Miguel. In fact, the only person who calls him Miguel is María, and Neto too, sometimes, but that old man just calls anyone whatever he wants.

Part of him feels extremely offended, enraged even, because it’s not Pacho’s fucking place to call him that.

However, it’s not only the name itself that’s the issue, but more about the way it is said: carefully, intentionally, with every syllable meticulously pronounced.

“What are you doing, hmm? Sitting behind your desk alone, in a large, empty room?” Pacho keeps talking, now with a much more softened tone, but somehow it sounds even more dangerous, more personal. “Do you hear voices in your head too?”

He should just hang up. He is in fact hearing a voice in his head right now, and it’s screaming at him to fucking hang up.

He shuts it up internally, and brings the phone back to his ear. “What about you then? Your best late night activity is to insult me over the phone? How interesting.”

Silence falls upon them again, and Miguel feels his heart dropping in his chest. What the fuck is he doing, throwing meaningless insults back and forth like some rebellious teenager? He shouldn’t have called at all. That is the worst idea, or the second worst maybe, the worst one being sleeping with Pacho.

A small sound passes through the line, almost inaudible, and he can’t tell if it’s a huff or a sigh. But then Pacho laughs out, nothing extra, merely a light chuckle, but just like that, all the tension vanishes under the lightheartedness.

“Well, it could be worse.” The Colombian says, teasingly, but still an acknowledgment nothing less than truce, yet it makes him feel more taken back than any threats he was anticipating.

Are you ok? He almost wants to ask, but of course he doesn’t.

“Like what?” He ends up asking, although he knows it’s a useless thing to say. In fact, there’s no point in keeping this conversation going at all.

“Can you seriously not think of anything worse than being insulted in this business?”

“That’s fair.” He feels the corners of his mouth curve up into a tiny smile. It’s the ugly truth, but hearing it from Pacho somehow makes it sound like dark humor.

“We’ll send the shipment a week early. You can expect it on Sunday.”

“Ok, sure.” He almost forgot that was what they were talking about before the conversation took a weird turn. “I’ll tell them to get ready.”

“Bueno.” There’s a slight change in Pacho’s tone, like the kind of strenuous sound when someone talks while trying to reach for something. “Is there anything else?”

“No, that’s it.” He keeps his voice even, but can’t stop himself from imagining the Colombian stretching in bed, or reaching to the side to turn off the lamp… He closes his eyes and snaps the thought out of his brain. What the hell’s wrong with him?!

“Alright, buenas noches.”

“Buenas noches.” Miguel responds, a little more hurriedly than intended, so he can hang up as soon as possible.

The office becomes quiet again. It’s not even that late, and there must be some people still awake in the hotel, but he can’t hear them since he’s on the top floor. It’s great most of the time. It provides an appropriate environment to focus, to think, but the problem is he can never fully control what he thinks. He can most of the time, but not a hundred percent— no one can do that, not even him.

When his mind wanders free, quietness transforms from blessing to curse.

He gets up from the armchair, stretching his arms a little, and walks into the bathroom. It’s going to be another restless night.

Miguel wakes up the next morning when sunlight shines through the slit between thick curtains. He didn’t sleep that bad, surprisingly. He spent quite some time tossing and turning, but once he drifted off, he slept through the entire time. Maybe it’s better for him to sleep alone now.

After he gets ready and walks into the office again, the secretary tells him Azul’s here. He lets him in, and they talk about some updates within the organization: the fuel between Tijuana and Sinaloa, some difficult PRI politicians…all the old annoying shit, nothing easy but nothing new.

“Did you hear about Cali already?” Azul suddenly asks, just when he thinks the conversation is about to end.

“What?” He switches to a calmer tone. “What about them?”

“They were bombed by Escobar last night. I heard it hit pretty close.”

“Wait, last night?”

“Yeah?” Azul confirms a little hesitantly. “Did you hear something else?”

“No, but I just spoke with them on the phone last night, and they said they could send their shipment on Sunday.” He states the facts, carefully masking all the emotions. “Probably not that serious, just get me more information on the two senators you mentioned.”

Azul nods, and takes it as his cue to leave.

Once he’s alone again, Miguel pours himself a glass of whisky. It’s a terrible idea to drink liquor before breakfast, especially for his stomach, but he doesn’t care. He needs it.

He fucking called Pacho after midnight for something insignificant, right after Cali was bombed. But that’s not even the worst part.

The worst part is that it bothers him, while he has zero reason to care.

@ashlingiswriting @narcolini @yourlocalspacewitxch @drabbles-mc @mandaloria314 @alreadywritten @cheesybadgers @cherixrosa @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @dashavau @sikkui

#pacho herrera #miguel angel felix gallardo #Pacho fanfic #narcos #narcos: mexico #narcos fic #pacho/miguel

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txbbo · 4 years ago

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I've been debating making this because this is definitely not what my blog is known for and I was worried that people wouldn't want to see it, but with the amount of shit im seeing on twitter it's compelled me to make this because I'm so frustrated.

I feel like I could make 100 posts about 'Cancel Culture' and it wouldn't be enough, so I'm just going to focus on what caused me to write this tonight - the Tommy situation. *Warning for a VERY long post below*

To be clear, Tommy has been in 'hot water' on twitter for the past couple weeks, roughly starting with the KSI collaboration where he made a joke about dream stans.

Last week, when the SBI 'exposing account' got made and twitter hyped it up, someone made a Tommy account and made a thread of things he needed to be '''educated''' on: https://twitter.com/idktommyinnit/status/1379158964148002821?s=20

I'll let you read it for yourself (and come to your own conclusion) but to me.... half of this stuff does not require a twitter thread? Breaking it down accusation by accusation:

1) 'The Mexican accent' - the clips show he is clearly only doing it when copying big Q (who famously exaggerates his own accent) and there is zero malicious intent (Big Q is also IN the 3 clips mentioned in the thread, and obviously didn't tell Tommy it was offensive). There's debates in the comments from people who think it is offensive and people who don't, so I'm not trying to pick a side. To avoid accidentally offending anyone, maybe it is best for him to stop, but the way twitter acts as if he was purposefully doing this to offend people is just not true.

2- 'Making a slave joke' - Even saying that feels wrong, because it suggests Tommy is doing something awful. Instead, they are referring to the 'bit' that Tommy, Techno, Tubbo and Ant were involved in, when Tommy and Techno took Tubbo and Ant as their slave. People are taking this vod and using it to accuse Tommy of being insensitive to Black people, but I think people are just assuming the worst. Slavery existed long before the transatlantic slave trade and still exists today. This is a role-play server - Tommy 'forced' Ant to work for him and used the word slave, which to me is exactly what was happening? People 'murder' others on the SMP, people 'kidnap' on the SMP, people are 'terrorists' on the SMP, and all happen without issue. To add, Ant is a WHITE man. Tommy taking a WHITE man as a slave is not something uber problematic.

3- 'His reply to Techno's 'murder is bad' tweet'. - I get people saying that Techno's initial tweet was insensitive, but saying Tommy's agreement to this from almost over a year ago is something notable and worth addressing is just super nitpicky and is clearly only in there to pad out the thread. It also makes me wonder what other CC's interacted with it and if THEY should be cancelled too (according to twitter).

4 - 'The saying slurs' tweet / jokes about 'whats the worst word you know' - This one I can kinda see how people might not like it. However, it's clearly a 'poke' at his friends, making them seem like bad people. To me, its in the same vein as 'Tubbo is a Tory' or when Tubbo shoots back that 'Tommy is a Nigel Farage fan'. They're obviously not, but its making fun of your friends by saying they are, and mockingly making them out out to be bad people.

5- 'Covid jokes' - People are taking jokes he made about him 'having covid' and saying he shouldn't joke about this, even going as far to linking it to asian hate crimes. I don't even know how to explain that that this is just? not a 'cancellable offence'? I'm sorry but if I hear anyone in my family coughing I make a little joke that 'they better not have covid' and I know other people do. I have someone in my family who is extremely vulnerable to Covid and if they caught it, would quite literally die, but I can understand that jokes like these are harmless. The whole internet had a running joke that we were in a 'panoramic' or 'Panera' or 'insert any word that sounds like pandemic.

This thread got a lot of attention and anything he tweeted afterwards was spammed with the link and there were so many people upset that he hadn't addressed it. I saw so many people say how 'upset' and 'disappointed' they were in him.

Going on to today, this happened: https://twitter.com/khasiid/status/1380611890104139776?s=20

I get it, it looks bad. But for context (which the tweet doesn't give), the reply was only up for less than a minute. It was obvious to me, even BEFORE Tommy addressed it in his stream (clip here: https://twitter.com/cowrpse/status/1380640046202593283?s=20 ) that it was a mistake. In the clip, he clearly acknowledges his mistake and seems embarrassed. To me, this situation should just be laid to rest because a mistake does not need this much attention, but twitter disagrees.

In case it wasn't obvious by now, the tide is turning against Tommy and people are less willing to ignore genuine mistakes and assume the worst.

Today, during his birthday stream people were clearly already waiting for him to mess up. Around half way through, he started saying 'finna' out of context and Tubbo joined in. This led to tons of tweets telling him he was misusing AAVE, and while there were plenty of people willing to be patient and educate, there were also people seeing this as an example of him being a 'bad person' and someone who should be 'without a platform'. I think people forget that not everyone has the same internet upbringing as they do. In general, I think its noted that the misuse of AAVE is something that has just recently been brought to attention. I learned about it through tiktok and stan twitter, and I don't think it's unimaginable that a British 17 year old boy (who is not active on either) has never heard of 'African American Vernacular English'.

Just for a fuller picture, today has also brought about another 'criticism' that I just had to address.

1) 'Tommy made a KKK joke' - Like the 'slavery' point, saying this is extremely misleading. It makes people think the worst. Here's the clip: https://twitter.com/ghostburz/status/1380673589612011522?s=20

Here, Tommy and Tubbo are both joking about Tubbo's 'bit' of naming his alt streams 'aaaaaaaaaa', 'bbbbbbb', 'cccccc', etc and how it would've been bad if it was 'kkkkkkkk' (for obvious reasons). That is literally it. It is a less than 20 second clip. Acknowledging that people woulda thought about the 'KKK' is not him 'not understanding Black issues', its a throwaway joke about the obvious.

Lastly, someone on twitter has made a tommyinnit (address asap) doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1tZEZtBzikS-EYYkssfFtwVOoFqOwCK0zhStLe6H1wCc/edit

I've basically already covered everything in this document, but I wanted to mention how extremely 'guilt trippy' the whole thing is. I struggled to come up with the perfect word for the situation, and I am open to hearing other peoples opinion, but as I have mentioned none of these things Tommy has been accused of were done with malicious intent, and some I believe don't even need addressed at all.

'slavery is a source of astronomical trauma for black people, and isn’t something to be taken lightly if you’re to look into the horrors of the slave trade."

and "Oftentimes they are the last words we hear before we die and it really is not Tommy’s place to joke about words that affect us so negatively."

Are extremely emotional words for a 17-year-old boy to hear on his birthday, for stuff that I believe has been taken out of context and blown out of proportion.

I really feel bad for him, because such a large proportion of twitter (which ofc is the loudest side of the fanbase) is angry at him and is demanding (as the document says) ''either a stream or twitter thread/twitlonger to addressing this' and 'a long and serious apology instead of a short statement pre-stream'.

We all know how twitter works, and unless his apology is perfect (which to me means apologising for stuff that he should't have to, as explained in the thread), twitter will continue with this weird hyper focus on everything he does, and it's not going to end well.

Twitter's mentality of 'putting everything this person has done that could ever be considered problematic' into one neat little thread is so unhelpful and counter intuitive. I got overwhelmed reading some of the stuff people were saying about him, I can't imagine how he feels.

I feel like I have more to say but at risk of writing an essay longer than my actual work I have to do, I'm going to end here.

#this was incredibly cathartic to write #turns out im not just a c! Tommy apologist LMAO #tommyinnit #dream smp #tommyinnit neg #tommyinnit critical #tommyinnit crit #Tommy crit #Tommy neg #twitter neg #cancel culture #mcyt crit #mcytwt crit

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mvttsvn · 4 years ago

Text

Useless [pt1]

Modern college!au

toxic Eren x gn!reader

warnings: angst, explicit themes, dubcon, embarrassment, manipulation, degradation, OOC, cussing, and typos

authors note: this has been sittin in my drafts for months I just haven’t had the motivation to finish. there will be a part 2 with smut I just wanted to get this out first.

part 2

Eren liked to think he was a pretty simple guy. He’d meet someone, use them for his benefit, lead them on till he didn’t need them anymore, then disappear. A sick trick that he used to manipulate all kinds of people. Life really can be easy with the right looks and a smooth voice. He and only ever got what he needed. He understands how selfish it is. But gotten him this far, so what would be the point in changing.

Unfortunately, you had been one of the unlucky few to get caught up in his schemes. Let’s be honest it wasn’t a surprise, you knew of him before. A few of your friends pinned over him for being the cute nicotine-addicted guy who couldn’t care less about World Literature 1-2. But you believed each and everyone of of his sweet little promises. “No you’re so special, I think I’m gonna keep you around for a long time sweetheart.” Deception dripping from his lips as he gave you a sinful grin.

You should’ve known...

It’s been a few months now since Eren blocked and deleted your number for his phone, the last time you spoke was when he texted you to thank you for helping him pass his English final. You replied with asking if he wanted to get lunch the following day only to be left with your text never going through. That motherfucker. Of course you were angry, mostly at yourself though. You tried not to sulk about it yet every time you’d go out you’d dress up a little then you would usually just in case you’d see him. And luckily he wasn’t in any of your classes this semester either so it would be easier to forget him.

At this point you haven’t thought of Eren in weeks, you’ve focused yourself in uni and started taking assignments and things more seriously. That was until one of Eren’s roommates unknowingly took a seat next to you in your intro to ethics course.

You’ve been to Eren’s apartment a multitude of times. You knew who his roommates were, even after having a few conversations in the late morning with them after you would spend the night. Armin, who was too engrossed from whatever was on his phone plopped his books right next to you and took a seat not sparing you a glance. Once you professor started speaking he locked his phone slipping it into his pocket and glance around the room. Once he looked at you his blue eye widened and he sorta whispered “oh hey! y/n didn’t know you were in here”

You shrugged and gave a polite smile while turning back to look at the front of the room to stare through one of the windows above the projector screen. It’s not like you hated Armin, he was very kind and never judged you when you’d take the walk of shame in the morning through Eren’s kitchen, it’s just you know that this interaction would eventually lead back to him and that made you nervous.

A week or two passed and Armin continued to sit next you, you supposed it was more comfortable for him because it didn’t look like he knew anyone else in this class, neither did you. Nor were you complaining he’d give you notes and lend you his book when you would forget. Not much conversation would happen between you either, a simple hello and other small talk would occur nothing more. A very professional relationship.

Yet when your professor assigned a partner projects you and Armin both looked at each other like :| and silently agreed to work together. It was just easier that way. The assignment wasn’t due for another 2 weeks so you had confidence that you wouldn’t have to grind at the end of the this week to do it. Until Armin caught your arm as you were leaving.

“Hey sorry to ask but would it be ok if we could work on this after school? I have a lot of stuff due this week and I’m in a bit of a time crunch.” He shyly laughed hoping you weren’t busy.

You held in a sigh “Uhh sure, can I meet you at 5 tho..I have a thing-”.

“Yeah! That’d be fine, my place?”

You kinda really didn’t want to go to his place, “yea!”

You both continued listening to your teacher’s lecture while your mind was elsewhere, you didn’t have anything after school you just wanted to go home for a bit and prepare for who you may or may not see at Eren’s Armins apartment. By the end of the day you raced home, flopping onto your bed, this was a bad idea, why didn’t you just ask for him to meet at the library or something?? This situation could’ve been a whole lot simpler if you just offered your place instead. Hell you don’t have any unconventional roommates you sleep with him so it’s just unfair. At 4:45 you gather your things and drove over to Armin’s apartment. You knocked on the door, your nerves going haywire.

You’re greeted by Armin he smiled and opened the door for you letting you walk inside. You took a glance to the side and luckily Eren’s familiar beat up tennis shoes weren’t by the door. At least you could relax for a little while, hopefully he wouldn’t come home till you were gone.

Jean was sitting on the couch watching some action movie at a low volume with Connie who was fast asleep curled up with a throw pillow. The lights in the living room were dim with the curtains on the windows shut. Yet you could still see from the light in the kitchen that shone from above the counter. Jean gave you a nod, “welcome back” he half whispered as he tipped his drink at you. You smiled and waved and made your way into Armin’s room. You sat at the edge of his desk in a borrowed kitchen chair, as he joined you sitting in his computer chair in front of his desktop. He left his door slightly ajar letting you see right through into the kitchen and front door, which made you slightly on edge. Armin started going over the project, opening a document, and reading through a few paragraphs. You tried your best you to concentrate but you were too paranoid. Every so often a loud noise from Jean’s movie on the tv would make you whip your head towards the door. About an hour in you and Armin had crunched through about a few paragraphs and of your project, to Armin’s mistake you guys definitely weren’t going to finish tonight. Hopefully the next time you’d offer your place instead.

After another 30 minutes you and Armin gave up, eventually you guys made your way back into the living room. You went to the door to gather your things until Jean and Connie basically begged you to stay and watch another movie with them. You didn’t want to, you knew if you stayed any longer the possibility of Eren coming home would increase. But when Connie got up from the couch and handed you a drink, you gave in. As you sat down you began slightly regretting your decision. Why were you staying? You and Armin were finished you can go home.

You asked yourself this when you heard keys jangle outside the door and the click of the lock. It’s roughly pushed open and Eren moves into the room, swiftly locking it behind him. “Hey man” Jean calls, you immediately tense next to Armin and fix a stare at the tv. You’re too aware of your surroundings right now to know what happening but you need a distraction. You can see his movement in your peripheral, Eren saunters in to the dark living room to stand by the opposite of the end of the couch from you. when he spots you, you can feel his blazing stare in your skull, he laughs out a scoff and the room goes silent, except for the low murmur of the tv.

The air is tense and awkward and everybody can see your apprehension. your heart it beating in your ears and you can feel you palms starting to sweat. The sounds of the tv are immediately drowned out when Eren breathes our your name. “What the hell are you doing here?” He grips the arm of the couch and places his left hand on his hip. You slowly turn your head to look him in the eyes when Armin speaks up trying to lighten the situation “We had a project for sadis’ class”

Your eyes dart between Eren and Armin when Eren snides, “hmm...well it doesn’t look like your working on it”

“hey layoff man” Jean gives him a side eye. “Yeah we finished just a few minutes ago.” Armin adds.

“It was just a question” Eren shrugs. You can believe him, he such a fucking asshole, you’re staring at him in disbelief when he meets your eyes again he laughs “what did you miss me or somethin?” His grin is sickening, you feel the embarrassment hot on your face yet what can you do in the situation? If you leave you’ll destroy your pride and yet if you stay what if you give in to him again?

Your frozen in your seat you nails digging shapes into you palms as you clench them together. You feel the stare of everyone one in the room and it makes you want to cry. He tilts his head “can’t you speak? what wrong?” the malice in his voice makes your ears burn. You want to scream, you want to run, but he slowly walks right in front of you and holds out his hand. “C’mon”

You can leave at any moment, the door is only a few feet away yet you cautiously place your palm into his as he hauls you up from your seat. No one says anything as you guys leave the room, what a complicated situation this is huh?

As he opens his door you try to glace back at the others yet he roughly pulls your arm though and slams his bedroom door. You hope they don’t blame you too much for going with him. You stand in the middle of a very familiar room, one you’ve visited many times yet you’re too scared too move from the spot you currently occupy. He turns to face you locking the door behind him and takes a few steps forward. You look at the floor as you begin speaking “Eren I-”

“ohhhh so you can talk?”

“yes’ you puff.

He fits his hand under your chin proceeding to squish your cheeks to face him. “I don’t like you hanging out with them when I’m not around” his hot breath fan your face and you widen your eyes. The audacity. “What do you mean, were not even together anymo-” you voice smothered by his grip.

He tips his head back and see concern in his eyes, its almost like he was hurt by your words, “Yes we are” his eyebrows scrunched together. You go to spit out another sentence when his hand moves to cover you entire mouth, he brings face to your ear, “You wound me y/n, how could you think that? I thought you loved me?” Why does he sounds so genuine? Your mind is fuzzy with confusion, of course he’s lying, you would never in a million years utter those words to him during the short time you were together. Yet the pain in his voice and the grip on your jaw is making you dizzy, his hot breath on your ear and neck are causing goosebumps to raise on your skin.

Your smaller hand goes to grip his forearm that's holding your face. He moved to look into your eyes. The dim light from the lamp in the far corner of the room casts a shadow upon his face, yet his deep green eyes seem to glow. He slowly moves his hand away placing it on your shoulder as his free hand moves to your hip. You want to yell at him, ask his why he’s doing this to you, but you place your palm softly onto his chest and drop your head in shame, “I’m sorry..i..I didn’t know” you whispered.

His warm hand goes to caress your cheek and moves into your hair lightly pulling to make you face him. “It’s ok babe, you just have to make it up to me” his chest rumbles underneath your hands as you eye widen. “You can do that, right?” You slowly nod your head and bunch his t-shirt under your fingers. He places a soft kiss on your forehead and lead you towards his bed in the corner of the room. He takes a seat on his dark blue comforter and your stand in front of him. Your hands lightly holding onto his index fingers as he carefully rocks them back and forth. You take another look at his face and see the artificial softness slowly fade away into something dark, and conspiring.

“On your knees babe” his voice sounding rougher than before. You begin another protest but he takes his warm palms and encircles your waist to urge you down. You slowly fall to your knees, your hands on his thighs while digging your nails into his rough jeans. Your mind slowly starts to unfog and start realizing what your doing. Your shame and regret tug at your heart and you feel the tears begin to prick your eyes. You look up at Eren and see the distain in his eyes. He hums and caresses you shoulder. You wept into your chest as you feel the air being stolen from your lungs Eren moves his calloused hand to your throat and tugs to make you look him in the eyes.

Why did you have to be so damn proud?

#eren angst #eren jeager #eren yeager #aot eren #eren imagines #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager x y/n #eren jeager x you #eren fic.📗#useless series.mvt

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melodiesofblueroses · 4 years ago

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𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘤𝘴 𝘸/ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴

-𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: basically general eyesight and glasses hcs for each of the demon bros

-𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: general

Lucifer

he doesn’t like the look of glasses, so he often doesn’t wear them

he thinks that glasses are an unsightly look on him, and as diavolo’s right-hand man, lucifer wanted to look both frightening and presentable

thus, he opts for contacts most times, though he may put on his glasses once in a while when he was alone

contacts were his go to option since they were practically hidden. he doesn’t like the idea of others knowing that he had a weakness: his eyesight

(spending hours reading documents at a dimly lit desk is sure to strain anyone’s eyesight)

lucifer is farsighted, so he often doesn’t see the need to wear his prescription since he’s often standing up and presenting

plus, he had to rest his eyes every once in a while

and when he does need to see close up objects, it was usually when he was alone, so lucifer really had no trouble putting on his glasses then

since it was sort of a secret, sometimes his brothers forgot he wore them since lucifer was rarely seen with them on

whenever he did wear his glasses, they were always slightly taken aback until they remember that his eyesight sucks

when the exchange student sees him with glasses, they get a slight heart attack just from how attractive he looked (seriously, who gave him the right?)

probably pesters him to wear it more often since he looked rather dashing in them, to which he complies after much annoyance

wouldn’t admit it, but lucifer loved to see you swooning over him, so he often found himself wearing his glasses whenever you were around (only if the two of you were alone though)

Mammon

he is seen wearing glasses only when sporting his casual look, so most often others think that they’re just for show

he likes the pop of color they add to his outfit, so in a sense, they were an accessory, but they were also perscription lenses

i think that mammon has astigmatism, so he definitely needs to wear either glasses or contacts if he wants to see anything

he prefers contacts over glasses, which is why he’s often seen without his iconic tinted glasses

like lucifer, mammon didn’t think that he looked good in glasses, and he was a bit insecure of the fact that he even needed glasses, so he often chose contacts instead

(the only reason he wore glasses on his casual attire was because the tint matched the rest of the outfit. plus, he agreed that it was the only time that glasses looked good on him)

he also believes that contacts are a lot less work since he didn’t have to worry about misplacing them throughout the day

he just had to put them on in the morning then could wear his contacts all day. and they were invisible, so they wouldn’t get in the way of his usual antics

definitely has slept with his contacts on a few times since he forgot to take them out

thus, he sometimes woke up with dry and irritated eyes

when you came to the devildom, mammon realized that you seemed to absolutely love his tinted glasses, so he made it a point to wear them around much more often, if only to impress you

you think that they’re just for show at first, until you put them on and realize that they’re prescription lenses

mammon is embarrassed that you found out, but you reassure him that it didn’t matter in the slightest

Leviathan

my guy definitely has some eyesight problems from how often he strains them playing games or watching anime

since he’s nearsighted, he doesn’t really wear his prescription often since he’s always seeing things that are close to him, such as the computer monitor or manga

the only time he really wears them is if he needs to go out, but even then that’s not often

he alternates between glasses and contacts since he doesn’t really mind either. it entirely depends on his mood and whether or not he wanted to try and put in his contacts that he often struggled with

although he wears both and alternates, i feel like he may prefer glasses because he thinks that they make him look cooler

thinks it makes him look like one of those cool anime guys so levi ofc loves it

(levi definitely has pushed up his glasses more than a few times to imitate the glowing glasses thing)

plus, glasses were way easier to take on and off (levi would admit that he’s slept in his contacts a few times because he was dead tired)

he also has his glasses and contacts match up with the characters that he’s cosplaying, including wearing colored contacts in order to match the character’s eye color

levi also loves to design new glasses to go along with them

when you pointed out how cute he looked in glasses, levi swears he had an out-of-body experience

he’d never had anyone compliment him on his glasses before, so levi really takes it to heart

whenever he wears his glasses, he remembers that one compliment and becomes all flustered. you played with his heart way too much

Satan

satan always made it a habit of his to wear glasses when reading or even doing his RAD homework

although satan has 20/20 vision (he’s one of those lucky people), he still absolutely adored the look of glasses

in his mind, glasses made him look like an intellectual

since satan believed that knowledge made a person respectable, he extended that to glasses as well, falling into the generic way of thinking that those who wear glasses appear to be smarter

so he always carried decorative glasses on hand to wear whenever he was reading something

also fits with that entire academia aesthetic he was going for lol i believe that satan cares very much for looks and wants to appear put together

(plus, in his mind, he looked damn attractive in them)

for a while, his brothers think that he’s farsighted for how often they see him wearing glasses whenever he’s reading

when they gift him reading glasses for his birthday, satan laughs and says that they’re merely a fashion accessory

everyone always forgets that and mistakes him for being farsighted, as well as the exchange student when they first meet him

when you comment on how sexy you think he looks with glasses, satan feels accomplished in a sense

it’s not like he needed the validation, but it felt nice either way

he does feel a bit guilty though since you seem to believe that he was also farsighted lol

Asmodeus

asmo absolutely hates wearing his glasses

for one, he thinks that he looks absolutely dorky in them (asmo knew that he looked good in them; he just didn’t like their style)

secondly, he was embarrassed to admit that he needed prescription lenses even if it was totally normal

the only time he ever wore them was if they complimented his outfit, and even then he’d insist that it was nothing more than a fashion statement

would also wear them if he forgot to put on his contacts that morning. he didn’t want to seem like a fool as he constantly ran into things and squinted at objects from afar (one time that happened and his brothers never let him live it down)

more often than not, asmo chose to wear contacts since they never got in the way

asmo is nearsighted, so he tries his best to sit as close to objects as possible, such as always sitting in the front row of RAD (he still can’t see the board but i digress) or bringing his books way too close to his eyes

his eyesight isn’t as bad as the others though, so he could sometimes afford to go a day or so without them. things were just going to look a bit blurry from afar

one day when asmo forgot his contacts and wore glasses, you pointed out how good he looked in them and asked why he didn’t wear them more often, to which asmo is a bit taken aback

like yeah, he did look good, but you liked them? really?? it was such a strange thing to hear

when he looked in the mirror, asmo would realize that you were right

damn, he did look amazing. why didn’t he wear them more often?

would definitely make an effort to use them more afterwards

Beelzebub

like satan, beel is one of the lucky few in the house of lamentation that didn’t need glasses or contacts

his eyesight was perfect as is, so he could never understand the struggles his other brothers went through

i feel like he’d try out his one his brother’s glasses at some point just to get a feel for it

his perception would immediately falter and the entire world seemed so round. plus, wearing such strong lenses gave him a headache (seriously, what was up with levi’s eyesight?)

felt sympathetic for his brothers since their eyesight was blurry as hell

he’s the type that would help them out such as looking for their misplaced glasses

(he may have sat on them on more than one occasion since he wouldn’t have noticed them)

even if beel is practically a gentle giant, i can see him accidentally destroying his brother’s backup glasses more than once since his grip was so strong

as for fake glasses, beel wasn’t too fond of them

he really didn’t like how they looked on him. they looked bulky and a bit tacky, at least that’s what he saw

if on the off chance you complimented how well he looked in them when you once put some on him, beel would be confused

beel wouldn’t really change his mind on them, but if you said that he looked good, then maybe he should give them a second chance

Belphegor

he was the last of the trio that had perfect vision, so belphie often made it a point to rub it in his older brother’s faces

(particularly asmo who seemed to be extrememly jealous of his eyesight. he loved hiding asmo’s contacts so that he would be forced to wear his glasses that he hated so much)

though asmo was the easiest to tease, belphie absolutely loved making fun of lucifer and his “deteriorating eyesight”

belphie always had some snarky remark to comment whenever he saw lucifer passing by, such as to watch out for that little rock on the road before he tripped over it, since he couldn’t see anything in front of him

sure he may be lectured afterwards, but belphie found it to be worthwhile

he also played pranks on them, such as hiding their glasses and amusing himself as he watched them trip over their own feet as they tried to find them

he always acted innocent whenever the others asked where he hid them, acting as if he had absolutely no idea what they meant

belphie hated fake glasses with a passion since they always looked way too tacky for his tastes

not only that, but whenever he put them on, he was reminded of his older brothers, and belphie couldn’t stand that

one day when he was napping, you secretly slipped on some glasses on him to which he woke up to

he grumbled to take them off, way too tired and sleepy to move, and ignoring your comments that he looked so cute in them

when he was alone, however, belphie would put some on due to your compliments, and look at himself in the mirror with them on

as much as he hated to admit it, you did have a point, but he’d never let anyone know that

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #Obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #headcanons #general #sincerely a glasses wearing fan lol

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wendimydarling · 4 years ago

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Please Don’t Leave Me

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me

Summary: Talking about our past is not easy. What happens when it’s finally time to share what you’ve been through with Henry?

Pairing: Henry x First Person Reader

Word Count: 1635

Warnings: Angst; mention of being yelled at, personal hurt, self-harm, attempted suicide, emotional neglect, parental abuse, beginning stages of a panic attack, anxiety, depression, loneliness, and fear of abandonment. (If there’s anything I missed, just let me know and I’ll add it).

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY FREYA! I know it’s next week, but I’ll be off Tumblr because it falls on Thanksgiving this year. You asked me for this fic and I wanted to do right by you, as you’ve done so much for me. I love you, bish!

It had been a rough day. And not just your typical rough, I’m talking the kind of rough where you spill your coffee all over your blouse in the car, end up being late for work, forget your lunch, and get yelled at by the boss kind of rough. The kind of rough where every traumatizing past event in your life comes bubbling to the surface. The kind of rough where you want nothing more than to crawl back into your bed and sleep for seven years, and it’s only nine-thirty in the morning.

The one saving grace I held on to as I counted down the minutes of my shift was that Henry would be home tonight, waiting for me. God, I don’t know how I got so lucky, but somehow that kind and gentle soul had seen through the cracked and broken wall that I kept as my only defense mechanism, and had chosen me anyway. He knew some of my past and pain, but I hadn’t opened up about everything; I wasn’t ready to lose him, and I knew he’d be out the door once he heard it all. Just like everyone else. Perhaps that was selfish of me, but for once in my life, I knew what it felt like to be loved, and I was soaking in every ounce I could of that sweet nectar before it was gone.

Finally, finally, my work day was over. I headed to his place as fast as I safely could, anxious and burdened with unwelcome memories. The delicious smell of roast flooded my nostrils as I opened the door and Kal came bounding over. I noticed as I toed off my pumps and tamed the wild beast that Henry had built a fire, and gratitude filled my heart. He always seemed to know exactly what I needed, sometimes even before I did. I headed toward the kitchen, following my nose.

“Hey love,” Henry smiled wide, already pouring me a glass of red. He swallowed me in a warm embrace, his chin planted on the top of my head, and my body tucked firmly in his arms. I melted, sinking into the security of his hug and letting the stress of the previous hours wash away. I was here, he was home, and I was safe.

We ate quietly, talking here and there about random facts or tidbits. I pushed the food around on my plate, taking a bite here and there to satisfy Henry but I could sense him watching me carefully; his concern was evident, but he covered it well, masking it with simple questions or well-timed caresses. Even so, his next question caught me off guard, my fork halfway to my mouth.

“Will you tell me about it?”

The silverware clattered to the plate, forgotten in my fear. This is it, I thought, tonight’s the night I lose him forever. My chest constricted and I could feel the panic slowly rising, tears welling and threatening to spill. Henry quickly grabbed my hand and shushed me, cupping my face in nurturing kindness.

“You don’t have to,” he comforted, and I closed my eyes, exhaling the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Henry soothed his thumb over my cheek before pulling me onto his lap, cradling my head in his large hands. I burrowed deep into his chest, letting his scent wash over me in calming waves.

“I just want to help,” I heard Henry whisper. I sighed; he was right, it was time for him to know. I looked up at him, staring at that beautiful face that held so much promise. A face that said so much in just a look, with eyes that sparkled like the heavens whenever they landed on me. Once again, I wondered why his eyes looked like that when it was me they were viewing, but I shoved it aside. Self-deprecation would not help, not right now. Nodding softly, I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t tell him, not out loud. I dropped my head in defeat.

Henry shifted me off his lap, grabbing my hand and walking us to his desk. He sat in his gaming chair and patted his thigh, tugging on my arm. I hesitated, confused.

“Come here, love,” he encouraged, guiding me to sit. With both of us facing the computer, he opened a word document and offered me the keyboard.

“If you’re unable to say it out loud,” Henry crooned in my ear, kissing softly under my lobe, “Then write it. I’ll read it as you type, and neither of us has to say anything.”

This man. I swear to god. Relief flooded through me, though anxiety pounced instantly as I was reminded that once we were done, he would be gone. No one else had stayed, my problems were much too great... Why should he be the one to bear the burden of me? I took a deep breath anyway and eyed the screen, my fingertips trembling over the instrument of my demise.

Where should I even begin? Should I go all the way back to the beginning, to my birth? How I was nothing but a mistake, and every day I was reminded as such? Or maybe I should tell him what the scars are from? Perhaps I should simply tell him about failed relationship after failed relationship, both romantic and non. Those are all fun tales, I had no doubt he’d love to hear all about them. Maybe he wanted to know the amount of times I’ve come close to admitting defeat and ending everything. Spoiler alert… that number’s higher than it should be.

I swallowed thickly and began typing, slow and hesitant words forming on the page. Every thought was carefully constructed, worked over in my mind at least five times before I allowed it to leave my fingers. Henry’s comforting arms were wrapped tightly around my waist, his chin nestled on my shoulder as he read what I shared. Tears slowly brimmed in my eyes, kept at bay only by sheer force of will. Each stroke of a key sounded like a hammer hitting the nails in our relationship’s inevitable coffin; surely he wouldn’t, couldn’t love me after this. No one could. It’s simply too much for anyone to bear, too awful… too hard.

And yet in my ear were the sounds of something different. Encouraging grunts, empathetic hums. Henry kept his promise, he never said a word except for one small sigh of “oh, love” as I hit a particularly difficult moment. His hands rubbed my sides, kisses left tiny wet imprints on my cheek, and every now and then he would squeeze tighter, small reassurances to keep going.

The words started pouring out of me. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I tried; Every struggle, every loss, every tiring moment; every single thing that had ever happened to me found its way into that document in a flurry of clacking plastic. My hands moved of their own free will and the tears started to flow; long, silent trails of pain releasing years worth of pent up anger and hurt. The salty drops fell onto Henry’s forearms but he just left them there, rooted to his task of protecting me. I would miss how safe I felt in the protection of his arms.

The final sentence fell out of my hands, and I immediately turned and buried my face into Henry’s shoulder, bitter sobs wracking my frame as I clung to his neck.

“Please don’t leave me,” I begged, ashamed of myself for being so needy and undesirable. I expected him to untangle himself from my arms, to get up and open the door to excuse me from his home. To force me to leave his life and never return.

The last thing I expected was for him to burst out laughing.

I snapped my head up and stared at him in horror, which only made him laugh harder.

“I’m so sorry,” he wheezed, “I really shouldn’t be laughing. It’s just… I know why you think I would leave you, it’s all right there on the computer, but you have nothing to worry about.”

Henry wiped his eyes and mine and cupped my face, still chuckling.

“You think so little of yourself that you can’t see just how worthy you are,” he murmured, adoration and mirth mingling in his eyes as he tucked my hair behind my ear. I furrowed my brow and pressed my face into his palm, relishing the cooling sensation of calm that his skin brought.

“I know what it’s like to feel how you do,” Henry went on softly, “To feel unwanted and undeserving. But I’m not going to walk away from a flower as strong, as rare, and as beautiful as you just because she’s got a few bruises. I love you just the way you are.”

His admonition shocked the both of us. He loves me? I tried to process what he’d just said, but my mind was raw and I couldn’t think straight. He loves me.

“Yes, I love you,” Henry repeated as though he could read my thoughts, clasping my jaw and looking me straight in the eye. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere… I’m not going to leave you.”

I smiled widely as tears spilt over once more, happiness bursting from my heart. With anyone else I’d be doubtful, I’d have hightailed it on my own after a proclamation like that before the other shoe dropped... before they could hurt me worse. But this wasn’t anyone else, this was Henry. And being with him made me brave, which is why I found words leaving my lips that I never thought I’d ever say again.

“I love you, too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#henry cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill rpf #angst #fluff #birthday fic #littlefreya

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mystic-deep · 4 years ago

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“Whipped Cream” - Part 2 | Nanami Kento fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Taking cooking classes seemed like a nice way to relax and sharpen your skills, too bad the teacher hates you.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: explicit content not suitable for minors, nothing graphic but please be advised, light swearing

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: Here's part 2! Things are starting to move in the right direction. Nothing too explicit though, part 3 will be the first real reason. Hope you enjoy and as always, please forgive any errors and mistakes.

♡ ♡ ♡ previous parts: Part 1

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 3.4k

The second the doors of the elevator opened you dashed out, your eyes glancing nervously at your hand watch. Your weekly meeting had lasted longer than expected and now you were running late for your cooking class. You couldn’t wait to add another reason for that jerk to pick on you.

As you hurried through the lobby, the receptionist that you met on Monday noticed you and offered a sympathetic smile.

“Good afternoon! Nanami-sensei forgot some documents so he went back to fetch them from his car, you should hurry up before he returns.”

“Thank you!” You grinned at her and quickened your pace towards your classroom. It was good to know that not every staff member here was a devil in disguise.

You practically barged inside the room and for a second everyone looked at you with hopeful eyes, only to shift into disappointment when they realized it wasn’t Nanami. Or was it perhaps the fact that they all hoped you’d quit and they wouldn’t be forced to deal with you anymore.

Ignore them, this time around you wouldn’t lose your temper and become another subject for them to gossip about when the class was over.

With that thought in mind, and hopeless positivity, you scanned the room and realized that your previous working space had been occupied already. The only free space was at the very front row, near Nanami’s desk. Strange, you were sure that was probably the most sought out station, seeing how close you’d be to the chef.

You pushed your worries to the side and took out your apron from the bag before putting it on. Only a few seconds later the door opened again and Nanami stepped inside.

“Good afternoon and sorry for being late.” He offered a small apologetic smile and deep inside you thought that he was actually really pleasant to look at when he wasn’t criticizing your existence.

The smile vanished quickly when his eyes landed on you and you kicked yourself for finding him attractive just a few second earlier.

“Miss Y/n, as you probably noticed, I’ve moved your seat in front of my desk. After the events from last time, I need to supervise you attentively.”

You fought back the urge to argue, knowing full well that this is what he was looking for. Obviously today was a test of patience, to see how much he could push your buttons until you’d explode.

“Oh I don’t mind, Nanami-san.”

“I would like you to address me as Nanami-sensei or chef Nanami during classes.”

“Of course, Nanami-san.”

He shot you and angry look but you beamed at him innocently. You had told your friend that it would me a miracle if he didn’t kill by the end of the week but now your execution seemed right around the corner.

“Let’s start today’s lesson.” Everyone took out their phones and placed them on their working station.

“Today we’ll be making Paris Brest, it’s a very popular French desert. I’ve sent you the list of ingredients and instructions on the group chat, make sure you read them carefully and if there’s something you don’t understand you have 20 minutes to ask your questions. After that we’ll get started.”

Everyone gave a short nod in reply, well everyone except you. Your hand rose up causing Nanami to arch his brow in annoyance. “Yes, what is it.”

“I’m sorry but I’m not part of the group chat so I don’t have the list of ingredients or instructions.”

“That is, unfortunately for you, not my fault. Yamamoto-san is the admin, it was her idea to stop the waste of paper that we usually printed on in favour of sending everything via chat. You’ll have to talk to her.”

He made a short hand gesture towards one of the older women and you realized with distress that it was the old hag that questioned you during the previous lesson. She didn’t even bother to look up from her phone, like you didn’t even exist.

Fine, no point in begging to be added to some group you didn’t even want to be part of. You were sure you could find some recipes on youtube or something.

As the 20 minutes passed and Nanami began to take questions, your hand went up again but this time he ignored you. You frowned and went back to study the recipe you found. You were going to make this work, you were going to nail this desert and bask in the glory of your achievement.

About an hour and a half later all deserts had been finished and they were now presented to the chef for inspection. Nanami had moved from station to station giving advices to everyone and correcting mistakes here and there. He of course never spared you a glance and you had to admit it was starting to hurt. You didn’t know you craved so much for his approval or was it maybe the fact that it pissed you off to be pushed aside in such a way. At the end of the day you were paying for this course, it seemed unfair to be treated in such a manner.

“Right, let’s see what we have here.” He studied your Paris Brest, probably looking for any mistakes that he could judge. “A bit underdone, the bottom is somewhat soggy.” You bit your tongue and looked at him as he cut a small piece from the desert but didn’t taste it like he did with the rest. “I’ve asked for crème praline but instead you filled it with crème patissiere. Are you perhaps unable to follow instructions?”

“I didn’t have the list of ingredients and I didn’t have your instructions so I had to search for the recipe myself.”

“And I told you to ask Yamamoto-san to add you-”

“No, you said to talk to her as though this wasn’t your responsibility at all! Meanwhile you didn’t bother once to stop by my station and correct me even though you saw I was making custard crème.” Your cheeks turned red from frustration and you clutched your hands in small fists.

“If you don’t plan on teaching me anything then at least have the decency to say so! If I wanted to learn recipes from youtube I would have stayed in the comfort of my home without having to pay a dime for this joke of a class.” So much for keeping a cool head and not letting him get to you.

Nanami was a tall man, you noticed the second he first set foot in the classroom and back in the parking lot when you dropped your key. Yet you didn’t realize just how tall he was, at least compared you, until he was looming over you. His blue eyes had turned icy and his lips had tightened in a small, sharp line, a sign that he was barely keeping his anger in check.

“You will stay after class.” Despite not raising his voice even an octave, he said it in such a strong manner, like a divine command. When your mouth opened he sent you the most chilling glare. “You.will.stay.” With that he returned to his desk and you were left to boil in your frustration.

Class ended in what seemed to be mere seconds and everyone hurried out after saying their good byes, probably not wanting to delay you imminent death.

“Now, let’s talk in my office.” He gestured towards a door just a few feet away from his desk and you followed him as he opened it and stepped inside.

His office was quite impressive and you wondered just how much this school was making for him to afford such luxury. The room had large windows with a nice view of the office buildings in the distance, a solid wooden desk with a black leather chair as well as a couch with a modern looking coffee table. On the walls you could see several certificates and degrees that were framed, probably from all the cooking classes he had taken.

“Please take a seat.” He sat in the leather chair and you sat in from of him, legs crossed and eyes narrowed. Whatever the hell he wanted to discuss it had better be quick, you just wanted to go home and take a hot bath and forget about this miserable day.

“It seems that you are not adjusting well to this course so I will speak to management in order to return your money. No point to continue this if you don’t want to be here.”

“Oh no, you will not make this look like it’s my fault.” You sat up so quickly you thought you sat down on a spring. “You have treated me horrible since the very beginning and now you’re angry that I don’t sit quietly and take your abuse.”

“If you think that not praising you for the disastrous bake you did on Monday, a bake that I might add you half assed the whole time and then proceeded to blame everything except yourself, was too harsh for your sensitive self then it just further proves how unsuited you are for my class.” He sat up as well, his expression mirroring your own. “The class is a joke, the students are a joke, I am a joke. It’s all a big joke to you, the successful business woman who has no time to waste on such a silly course.”

You felt waves of anger washing over you but deep down inside what you felt more was sadness. Sure he was part right about what he said, you did look down on your classmates and you did insult him back then in the parking lot. Still, it wasn’t that you thought so highly of yourself, it was the opposite actually. Your self-doubt sky rocketed when he pointed all the flaws of your cookies and you couldn’t stand the way those women had chuckled gleefully in the background. Of course, you’d rather eat your fist than to admit to all of that.

“I don’t think this class is a joke and I have nothing against my classmates, it’s just that some of them don’t want me here. As for yourself, you’ve treating me differently than the rest of the class so the problem here is you not me.” You crossed your arms and looked at him in a defiant way. “Rather than returning my money, I want to be moved to a different course where someone else will properly teach me.”

He couldn’t have looked more shocked or upset if you had punched him in the face. This must had been for him the ultimate insult, for you to suggest that his teaching was bad and that someone else could do a better job. Truthfully, you weren’t questioning his skill as a teacher, just that you two obviously couldn’t get along. You weren’t sure that the point came across though.

“You insolent little-” He stopped himself and took a deep breath, clearly fighting the urge to strangle you. “You are absolutely impossible to deal with.”

“No, it’s you who just doesn’t know how to deal with me and I have had enough. There is nothing you can teach me.” With that you grabbed your bag in which you had previously stuffed your apron and hurried towards the door. As your hand reached for the knob, you felt his presence behind you and his left hand slammed against the door while his right quickly turned the key to lock it.

You turned to glare at him but as your eyes met his, your words got stuck in your throat. He looked at you with such intensity that it made your body temperature rise.

“I could teach you a lot of things if only you’d learn to keep that little mouth of yours shut.” The way he said things made you think he wasn’t necessarily referring to cooking.

His right hand suddenly reached for the back of your head and he pushed you forward, taking your lips in a hungry kiss. At first you didn’t move, you were too shocked to fully process what was happening. As his tongue slowly began to push against your lips you parted them and gave him full access to your mouth. Your hands reached for his broad shoulders and you instinctively stood on your toes in order to kiss him back.

The kiss only lasted for a few seconds but it felt like a life time when you finally parted. The anger from his eyes had been replaced with what seemed like hunger and he licked his lips making your knees to tremble.

“You could actually pass as cute when you’re not trying to push all my buttons.”

His words were like a wakeup call and your eyes widened at what had just transpired inside his office. He kissed you, but more importantly, you kissed him back! Not only that but you did it with such desire that no amount of denial would get you out of this one.

“Why-Why did you-”

“Because I wanted to.” Just like that, because he wanted to. He trapped you in his office and kissed you just because he wanted to.

He grabbed your wrist, quite gently to your surprise, and began to pull you away from the door.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to fuck you silly on the desk, what else.” Your eyes practically popped out of their sockets and you froze in place.

“I’m joking, obviously.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Your fist aimed for his shoulder but he dodged the punch without a problem. He then sat down on the couch and pulled your body so that you would seat next to him.

“Now then, let’s discuss a few rules if this is to continue.” What exactly was he talking about? What did he think was going to continue?

“Whatever happens in this room stays in this room. Once we’re out the door we’re back to teacher-student relationship and nothing more. You’ll give me your phone number so I can send you further recipes and set up meetings but we’ll never discuss anything that goes on here via messages or calls.”

“And what’s going to happen here?” You asked feelings a mixture or excitement and curiosity wash over you.

“That depends a lot on you.” He gave a little shrug as his hand landed on your thigh and began to smoothly move upward. “Depends on how obedient you are, show me that you want to learn.” You almost found it impossible to breath as his hand began to massage your flesh through the fabric of your pants. Why, why in the world didn’t you wear a skirt today?

“First, I think it’s fair to ask if I should be worried about you seeing someone. I don’t want to ruin a relationship or marriage.”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” After your promotion from last year it had been nearly impossible with your work schedule to form any kind of meaningful relationship and truth be told it was starting to show. God knows how much time had passed since you shared such a deep kiss and you wanted more of that. Even though there was a part of you that worried about what you were getting yourself into, you absolutely needed to feel that light headed again. Also, you knew that what he had offered was just a taste, just a fraction of what he could do to you.

“What about you? Is this something that you do often?” His hand on your thigh tightened and you let out a little whimper.

“I know you have the tendency to always believe the worse of me, but no, I’ve never done this with anyone. All the more reasons to set up clear rules. Obviously I’m also not in a relationship.”

You didn’t question him- he indeed didn’t seem the type to just sleep around with his students. If anything those women from your class would give and arm and a leg just to be here, in his office, sitting on the couch with his hand on their thigh. Yet for some reason, he chose you. The annoying, opinionated one that always rubbed him the wrong. Or maybe, you were actually rubbing the right way.

“I came to the conclusion that the only way for you to behave during my class is if we can take care of some of that pent up frustration you have.” You cheeks coloured red and you hated to admit it but he was right.

“What about you?” Your fingers began to travel provocatively to the growing bulge in his pants but he grabbed you by the wrist before you had the chance to reach your destination. You whined a little but he just chuckled and kissed the inside of your palm.

“Obviously, I’m not immune or I wouldn’t be here, offering to give you extra lessons.” He let go of your hand, his expression turning seriously.

“Before we continue, I need you to agree that you will behave accordingly.” You nodded in agreement, a bit too quick for your liking.

“I want to make it clear that we’ll not be dating. The second your course ends, so will this arrangement. We won’t meet anywhere else except here and once that door is locked you will be obedient. I won’t do anything that you’re uncomfortable with, but I want you to be opened to try new things, do you think you can do that?”

You nodded again finding it almost impossible so seat still. You were both nervous and excited for this little arrangement and you couldn’t wait to get started.

“Good, one last thing that we need to set straight.” He grabbed your waist and manoeuvred your body until you were sitting in his lap, his hand gripping your chin so he could look straight in your eyes.

“Inside this room you’ll address me as sensei or sir, none of that Nanami-san bullshit you pulled earlier. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes...sir.”

“Good girl.” He offered you a low chuckle and a light smack on your ass. You were absolutely desperate for more of his touch and seeing the need in your eyes, he pulled you in for another deep kiss.

As his tongue explored your mouth, your hips moved against his and his hands gripped your waist in order to stop the friction. He pulled away and looked at you in a threatening way.

“Don’t be greedy, your lessons haven’t started yet.” You wanted to protest but you were also afraid that he would end this before it even had the chance to start.

His slowly unbuttoned the first two buttons of your shirt and let his mouth fall on the swelling of your breast. He licked the flesh and nibbled, making your head fall back in pleasure.

“N-Nanami-sensei.” You mewled his name and he smiled against your breast. After a few more seconds he pulled away, admiring his work. The first mark he had left on your body and the promise of many more.

“Up you go.” He gave you another light smack on your bottom and with trembling legs you moved away from his lap.

“The next meeting will be and Saturday, to make up for the time you wasted today.” You frowned slightly, wondering how you’ll be able to resists until the weekend.

“Don’t make that face, I promise to give you and extra reward if you do well during Friday’s lesson.”

Your expression turned into an excited one and he laughed whole heartedly. “You’re so easy to read.”

With that, your little discussion had come to an end. He unlocked the door of his office and you stepped outside, practically waltzing through the classroom, down the hallway and through the lobby. The nice receptionist asked you something but you couldn’t register anything that she was saying so you just smiled like an idiot and waved her goodbye.

As the elevator door closed, a part of you began to worry about what you were getting yourself into. You weren’t a reckless person and you knew what scandal this could cause if you were caught. Still, it was even more dangerous for Nanami who could risk getting fired, so you had to trust that he knew what he was doing. All worries aside, on Saturday you were going to wear a damn skirt.

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader

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of-tatooine · 4 years ago

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for the record. | chapter 1 - alpha

off-duty time would not last you for too long.

After all these years, the world never ceased to remind you that rules never changed.

While the players of the game always rotated along with the enemy and the friendly alike, this dangerous life that many chose to lead had undeniable constants - etched onto your brain in a devout mantra, something to remember in your darkest or most fleeting moments.

Kill, or be killed.

That was the first thing that they taught you, at the beginning of those long and arduous days of training in the barracks. Scout out the situation and if there is any sign of remote danger, pull your gun first, or you will end up with a bullet in your head. Sometimes, it was better to shoot first and then ask questions - if you were still alive by then.

Though in your line of work, the learning phase never ended. Warfare shifted and changed constantly, forcing you to adapt. It was something you had to just come in terms with. At that point in your career, as sad as it was to think about it from a civilian’s perspective, it was all more creative and effective ways of getting confirmed kills. New weapons, new tactics brought with them new problems - along with new ways of dealing with them. Technology tackled advanced aircraft and armor, adding up to your arsenal.

One thing remained the same.

It all added up to the big stirring pot of the everlasting recipe - mass destruction.

And with destruction came in the casualties. The aftermath of modern combat. The rivers of blood on pavement, hands clawing at the burnt metal, scathed bodies crawling out of the smoky debris. Sights and sounds and screams you wanted to erase from your memory for a lifetime. The pain coarsing through the body after the penetration of a bullet. Sickening roars of helicopter engines giving out.

Yet, as a soldier, all you could do, all you were authorized to do was to bury them deep down - so you could live to see another day. Another day to fight for the flag. For peace, for honor and for the sake of lives.

The lives of many against your only.

The warm mug a welcome distraction in your hands, your eyes would wander around the busy Regent Street of London, people walking around in the usual hustle and bustle of the shopping district. The smell of freshly ground beans from the cafes scattered around, mixing in with the pleasantness of the gray post-rainfall. A spectrum of vibrant colors of shopping bags and clothes pleasing your eyes - it had been a while since you had gotten to enjoy a couple of hours all saved for yourself. The book whose pages were between your fingers moments ago then closed, as your conscience lost itself within the faces creating the sea of people.

The lives you were sworn to protect. Sometimes it felt like remembering another life, far far away - that you had been one of them. A civilian. Who needed protection in times of immediate danger.

Some were smiling and laughing, without a care in the world, radiating energy and happiness which had been a blessing in the usual London gloom. Some were in professional attire, their strides just a bit faster and their expressions harboring that of stress, concern and exhaustion. Not too long ago, you had been one of them - but your brain did not let you dissociate from the constucted reality you had left just yet.

None of those troubles mattered when snipers left and right rained bullets on you. The stress of studying for a big test was nothing compared to being caught in blast radius, fearing to look around you so you do not see your friends dead and gone.

The echoes of your last name originating from an accented, deep voice reached your ears, rippling inside the busy cafe you had chosen to visit for the day. Coming closer and closer until they associated with a couple thuds of heavy feet and finally, a face, as you turned around to face whomever was looking for you.

Out of all places, Captain.

It did not take you too long to get to your feet out of respect and sheer habit, offering him a nod in an attempt to hide your surprise. “Sergeant,” he would greet you with your rank, the commanding voice he used on the field to lead dampened - yet still powerful. It even had a small smile attached to it too, which was not unusual.

It made the thumping of your heart slow down. A civilian visit from your Captain usually meant bad news and noticing his mouth curl up under the beard calmed you down more than you ever thought.

“Captain Price,” you greeted back, arm gesturing to the seat right in front of you across the marble table, inviting him. “Please.”

The man, whom you had become so used to seeing in the famous military green was dressed in the simple and casual combination of a black jacket with jeans. It was a welcome change - not often did you see your commanding officer at a coffee shop in the heart of the city. Consequently, the air had been a bit awkward - just like how it felt when you felt the need to always show your best self, like there had been no room for mistakes.

That did not mean you could not try to get on his better side.

“Can I get you anything, Sir? Tea? I doubt they have a good pint here.”

That was when he looked directly in your eyes.

They said all soldiers had this blur in their eyes wherever they looked at. That no matter how happy they had been, no matter how much sparkle covered their worn-out irises, the dusty haze that veiled them was ever present. His familiar blue glint was subdued by some unknown, yet not lifeless. Not soulless. There was some sort of drive fueling him, the origins of it unbeknownst to you - the only thing you could discern was that it must have been for some good, judging by his chuckle and the slight shake of his head.

A file stamped with the all-too-familiar red confidential sign slid across the white marble along with him as he got settled in the chair, leaning his elbows slightly over the top.

“Raincheck, Sergeant, but I do have something that you might like.”

And with that, his fingers pushed the rather thin file over to you, blue eyes gazing around the shop as he undoubtedly made sure everyone was minding their own business. Here at London, he knew he had been safer than most places and yet you could only attest to the cautiousness of the man.

An eyebrow slightly raised as you leaned a bit forward, the initial welcome surprise slowly yielding to apprehension of what was inside the document. Another mission assingment had been the last thing you wanted to see after the literal living hellhole of the battlezone you had last been to. A part of you did not want to open up that cover but the other half of you yearned desperately to.

With a quick look to confirm, once you got his nod, you yielded to your other half.

And with every second spent looking at the papers containing profiles and overviews adorned with the faint Crusader shield watermarks, your eyebrows would furrow even more in confusion. Towards the bottom of the page, you could spot the one-liner character profiles for soldiers - some you had recognized and worked with, some names ringing no bells at all.

Then there it was. It was a mystery to you why it had taken you that long to find it. Right under the line occupied by a certain “John ‘Soap’ Mactavish” was your full name, with a old picture of you that belonged to one of your earlier days of training.

What the hell kind of a name is Soap?

“Now, I know you’re on the reserve for the time being,” Price spoke, breaking you out of your silent concentration as your head snapped up to divert focus into him. “But your skills in combat were not unnoticed.”

That made you proud inside, yet on the outside - it manifested in a subtle way of a simple yet courteous nod as you waited for him to continue. Closing the file for the time being, you felt the air shift as he leaned in towards you - voice dropping lower and tone growing grave.

“We have a huge war looming in the horizon, Sergeant,” he said, piercing orbs staring right into your soul. The kind of stare that could have the toughest of soldiers crack and break down, that could stop the bullet in trajectory.

“Millions of lives are at stake. You saw what happened in Urzikistan - you were there, on the frontlines.”

The mere mention of the place made your jaw clench and a gulp run down your throat, the memories of utter bloodshed still fresh in your mind.

“It is going to happen again.”

“How can I help?” slipped out of your mouth before your brain could control it, completely forgetting the fact that you had been granted off-duty time and was currently on it. Forgetting that you had to worry about taking care of your own demons in your head first, before jumping right into a war you thought you had just ended.

“I want you to be on my team,” he simply said, a look of reassurance thrown your way as he folded his arms on the table, head tilting just a bit to gauge yur reaction. His finger reached out to gently tap on the folder, gently opening the tab and pointing to the list of soldiers including yours truly.

“You will be working with handpicked warriors, the toughest of them all. Undertaking the most covert and dangerous operations - changing the world as you do it.”

There was this tone of finality in his voice that made it feel natural for you to follow everything he was instructing you to. Of course it was - he was your commanding officer, yet what he was asking out of you this time was much more than a simple recruitment for an operation.

No, what he made it sound like was that his team would be something akin to a ghost - working behind enemy lines, not alerting a single soul. It honored you that he had included you along with the names of seemingly renown soldiers, selected for off-the-grid duty due to your previous success. But was there really a need to add any additional danger to your already-risky life? It was a miracle you had not died yet and you were not so sure if another covert operation team would help with your chances. These kinds of operations only ended in either of the two ways - your mutilated corpse in a body bag or carrying your friend’s instead.

There probably also would not be many other occassions where Captain Price, one of the most trusted officers in the Services, would approach you with such an opportunity.

As your mind raced in crazy thought traffic, the sounds of the outside world and the otherwise peaceful cafe had been muffled. It was only you, him, and that little paper file you grazed your fingertips on, in order to maintain at least a slice of reality. Decisions like these had never been easy to make, especially when they would completely change your life and possibly your entire outlook. They never would be easy - there was not much “easy” associated to your line of work.

And yet going into it in the first place was something you had willingly chosen.

After all of that blood, sweat and lead - how could you say no?

Taking a deep breath as your lips moved to echo your determined voice, you spoke sofly with a nod. Chest loosening as you let out a breath you had no idea you had been holding for so long.

“I’m in, Sir.”

The ghost of a smile turned into a real one as his hand extended itself over the table, an almost proud nod as you shook it as firmly as you could.

“Welcome to the 141.”

next chapter

#here we GOOOO #lmk what you think!!!#john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #cod #modern warfare #cod reader insert #lets goooooo #john price #captain price #mw #mw2

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friedloverherringfarm · 3 years ago

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The loss of your cat Dear readers, losing your cat is devastating. Meanwhile some people don’t really understand that. Considering they may either never experienced it or they may have a rock as a heart. When our cat dies we can’t stop our tears because such an event we do not expect, we do not think of it, never. But it happens. Whether it was an accident, whether it was a disease. Animals can’t live as much as us humans. And it is a fact, we cannot hope it will live longer than it already has. And I am sorry, I know it is hard and dramatic and that you have your mindset that you were the cause of its death, I know that you feel responsible for what happened, I know exactly what you feel. I have experienced it and it is really devastating and it hurts more than anything, because we grew fond of them and we grew closer to each other every day. And actually I never let it go because there are moments that come out of the surface when I least expect it, reminding me of how much I cherished it. If there is something I regret is not spending more time with it even though we shared a room and a bed and the air together for 3 years. I regret not hugging her more, kissing her, telling her how much I loved her. The difference between me and my cat and others with their cat is that my cat didn’t come towards but I was, and even if I knew she didn’t like me to take her in my arms I still did it because I loved how warm she felt and soft her felt on my skin, and not to forget her smell, I really loved to kiss her on her head, sometimes even biting her cute ears while calling her sweetheart, it may sound a little bit cringe sorry I just really loved it. As well my hands and my shoulders were always scratched by it but I didn’t mind it as long it didn’t hurt to the point I’ll cry. Even though my parents said to me to stop it scratches you because she hates you or something, I knew better than anyone she didn’t, she just needed to make sure she did not fall and I understood it. When it was scratching me it was never with hate and I could feel it. By the way, I got this cat as my seventeenth birthday gift. I was really happy because I really wanted a cat from a long time ago. And for the first time I fell in love with it, I wanted to take care of it and the feeling of protecting it was invading me. This is the moment I felt like I became a whole new person, I grew in myself a motherly affection and I really kept it until the very end. This cat not only brought me joy but also made me a better person, brought me confidence and love. Since I was in my first year of high school, I started to encounter hardships and was very depressed by my results and this little being just gave me the strength at the right time, helping me to seize myself, to not let myself fall. And already the next year I was getting better results. I was progressing because I had someone to keep company. Don’t get me wrong I had my parents by my side too but the real helper was my cat. And in my last year of high school, I may have been down many times because I still did encounter hardships at school but my cat always helped me, always made me feel better, the strength she gave me was amazing. Each day I felt and really did felt she grew to love my company too which by the way the best feeling you can get. Finally the day, but before a week before, I was working hard because I had exams coming and my cat was by my side, all good. And the day before my exams, it happened. When I was finally feeling that everything was working perfectly, even my relationship with my parents was doing really great, my revision was good too, I felt really confident actually and my cat grew closer to me. That day I was feeling happy, there always been days similar but not the same I had days when I felt maybe about seventeen percent happy but the rest I still had worries, though that day I had zero worries and I could imagine myself at ninety or ninety nine percent happy and this was truly a first since my careless childhood. But you know it when everything feels too right something bad happens. Just after I was finally revising for the last time, and went to have a sleep break along with my cat. After sometime my cat wants to go out so I wake up mid sleepy and open her the door. Usually I would take her in my arms, kiss her head while inhaling her smell and even calling her sweetheart and telling her at least once that I love her but that day I felt sleepy from the whole week of revision so I can’t forgive myself that I didn’t do it. Anyway I knew I would see her again later so I went back into my bed and fell dead asleep. After two minutes my heart just doesn't feel right but I don’t wake up. One hour later I wake up, I go downstairs to eat a sandwich and from the kitchen's window I see my mother talking to someone I don’t mind and keep eating. My mom comes to the kitchen and tells me with a sad tone “Sweetheart, I have bad news” my heart already starts to break and I ask her right away “What?” She tells me then that my cat died and that my neighbors happened to see it and they brought her to us liveless. I stood up from the chair and ran towards the garden throwing my sandwich on the grass, my mind was blank and I started to shout Where is she Where is she. My mom appears and points with a finger. I spot her, laying on the grass, not like she always does when she enjoys the sun but like a being lifeless. I’m breaking into tears. I can’t control my sadness. My baby, my happiness is gone. An hour ago I was sleeping alongside in my bed and then the next moment I saw it dead. I started to caress see if her paws wouldn’t move. Maybe she was still alive but nothing. Her eyes were open but she wasn’t answering even if I touched her tail. I knew she didn’t like it. After crying until I couldn’t anymore, I went to my parents and told them that we needed to bury her. I didn’t want her to be like the dead cats left on the left side of the road lifeless and starting to fade. My dad agreed to come with me, he is the one who made the hole and I was the one who put her in. First I said my farewells, I held her in my arms and told her how much I loved her and kissed her on her head for the last time. My hands trembling. I put her in the hole and left so my dad could bury her. The day I felt the happiest became the worst day of my life, I felt guilty for a long period and was completely at loss of appetite and everyday I would look at her pictures and saying each time “I will never forget you” The reason why I came to reveal everything here is because I don’t want people who experienced the same tragedy to feel lonely, I want to call a community that will warm up and help those people to regain strength bit by bit. At first it feels hard to reveal everything and every memory of it hurts but trust me sometimes saying it out loud it heals you much more than hiding it in your room or under that fake smile you would put everyday so no one asks you what is the matter with you. I used to think that I would look powerless if I said it and if I expressed my sadness openly. It is alright to express our feelings. We are beings with emotions too. It is ok to feel you were responsible for its life and not to have accomplished that duty. But your mindset should be more like this: Did I do my best so it had everything she needed? Did I make good memories with it? It is alright to feel it is unfair. It is alright to want to hide from the world, I respect the decision you made because I was the same. The pain is growing and sometimes you will feel like there is no point in life though it isn’t true. You must come back! Don’t stay on the ground, you’ll catch a cold! Get up and find a way to express your feelings. Maybe sometimes you will feel like crying but you can shout, you can draw and tear that paper. You have the right to do it and no one has to tell you that you are only making a fuss for a dead cat because that cat was your everything and no one has the right to disapprove it. If you ever lose your temper in a way even yourself couldn't have imagined you could, there is something I know will change you and bring you back bit by bit. Trust me, it was my best remedy. It is called Passiflora, a plant documented with therapeutic properties, helping not only reducing stress but also helping with sleep problems, anxiety and depression. Finally I hope I didn’t add more tears to your face but instead I hope I extended a little hand so you can reach it. I want to be the hand that makes you stand up from the cold ground. Please take care of you and remember to find you need to find again something or someone that you’ll want to protect. (Ps: Sorry if I made mistakes while writing this.)

#loss #animal #strentgh

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nellie-elizabeth · 5 years ago

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Queliot Fic Recs - Master Post (March 11, 2020)

Hi everyone! I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, but now that we’re staring down the barrel of the show’s official ending, I thought I’d finally take the time to post a master fic rec list!

A couple of notes:

This is by no means comprehensive; I’m sure I’m forgetting several lovely fics, and will be updating this list as I remember/find more.

This list will not include WIPs (the only exception being where I rec a completed story that is part of a series, and mention that sequel(s) are still in progress). I will add the WIPs I’m reading once they are complete!

I am open to suggestions from others, so please reblog and add your own recommendations! I would love to add to this and make it a one-stop-shop resource for people looking for something new to read.

When I know the tumblr handle of the author, I have included it. But in several cases I don’t know the author’s tumblr, if they have one - if you have this information to fill in, please let me know and I will update the master post. (Also, if you notice any broken links or mistakes - I did my best, but this thing is hefty and I’m sure there are errors!)

This took me… forever to put together, so if you find it useful, please reblog - and more importantly, please leave comments & kudos on the stories you read!

Link to the Google Doc, if that’s easier for you to read.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1sIUMZcIcpnZ1_9T3o7dkqUaqEw0miwNTfTuZjvjGto4/edit?usp=sharing

Hefty rec list under the cut.

Season Three Gapfillers/Deviations from Canon

These stories usually deal with the aftermath of the mosaic in some way. Many of them were written before the revelations of 4x05, but some were written later, and either comply with canon, or deviate from it from that point.

shipping it by Mizzy (@mizzy2k). Mature. 16,344 words. The Muntjac “ships” Queliot and is trying to help them along. What else can I say? There’s angst, there’s love, it’s silly and it’s sincere.

Sense Memories by mtothedestiel (@summersteve). Explicit. 2,616 words. This is an ABO fic, which is not something I would typically read. But I love this author so much that I decided to give it a try. The thing I like about it is the idea of the mosaic timeline leaving a tangible, physical impact on Quentin and Eliot, and how they might deal with the fallout in this more extreme scenario. If ABO isn’t for you, though, proceed with caution.

throw your shadow over me by peacefrog (@lizardkingeliot). Explicit. 8,187 words. Okay I’m going to recommend basically everything peacefrog has written, but this one is probably my favorite. It’s a super angst-y sex scene between Quentin and Eliot during season three, where Eliot believes this is his last chance to be with Quentin, and is basically dreading the emotional fallout even while it’s happening.

i start spinning (slipping out of time) by peacefrog (@lizardkingeliot). Teen. 2,570 words. Before Eliot goes to Margo to discuss the god-killing bullet, he and Quentin have a conversation about Quentin’s choice to stay at Blackspire. Features a heartbreaking memory of their life together at the mosaic, and just generally gorgeous canon-compliant angst.

Promises by Rizandace (@Nellie-Elizabeth). Explicit. 7,751 words. Eliot and Quentin have it out about Quentin’s decision to stay in Blackspire, and hash out their feelings for each other. This one is canon-divergent (and is probably the one-shot I am the most proud of!)

Overthinking It by Rizandace (@Nellie-Elizabeth). Teen. 3,581 words. Eliot finds out about the abyss key, and it prompts a discussion about Quentin and Eliot’s relationship.

Honey You’re On Fire, Let Me Help by sirfoxheart (@sirfoxheart). Explicit. 5,857 words. Quentin accidentally picks up the abyss key… Eliot finds him and does what he can to distract him. This is hot, of course, but also so desperately full of feeling and love. As the summary implies, there is a good deal of depression and talk of suicide in this story, so take care.

Can’t Let Go by sirfoxheart (@sirfoxheart). Explicit. 5,384 words. UGH. This is what SHOULD have happened after Eliot and Quentin remember the mosaic time-line. This is so satisfying and gave me some catharsis in the aftermath of the direction the story has taken in canon.

~~~~~

Post-Season Four Fix-Its

These stories maintain the canon of season four, and continue on from there. They generally involve bringing Quentin back from the dead.

What Matter Where by achray. Explicit. 28,782 words. Eliot becomes Prince Consort of the Underworld. He gets to be with Q when he’s back home, though. This is almost tough to read, because my brain doesn’t want to accept any half-happy endings, any reality where Eliot can’t spend all of his time by Quentin’s side. But on the other hand… Eliot has to make a big, big sacrifice to bring Quentin back, and you definitely feel the gravitas of that.

life ain’t fair (so i guess we’d better cheat) by micksgotkicks (@lovelyquentin). Teen. 1,137 words. This is more of a pre-fix-it. Eliot rages against the heavens for taking Quentin from him, and resolves to get him back. Short and painful. Cathartic.

Being Alive by miss_whimsy (@bambiesque). Gen. 7,022 words. Eliot sends the letter to Quentin with the magical stamp. And when that doesn’t work, he sends a bunch more. This is one of the very few fics on this list that has any connection to season five canon, which I’m not watching. I did watch 5x03, however, and this fic is borne out of Eliot Waugh never giving up - the way we all know it should have gone.

What kind of man (loves like this)? by destielpasta (@queliotpasta). Explicit. 3,160 words. Eliot and Quentin go out dancing. This fic has a certain quality about it that’s difficult to describe - I could just really feel their love for each other jump off the page, specifically in how badly they clearly want to care for each other. This fic also straddles the line between categories - the author describes it as a “fix-it” and it does deal with Quentin’s resurrection in a more immediate way, but the subject matter itself is much more about the aftermath, rather than the actual “bringing Q back from the dead” part.

You’re a Story (I Can Follow) by Page161of180. Mature. 19,695 words. I think everyone’s read this, but how could I not include it? This technically isn’t a fix-it, because it was written before the season four finale confirmed the theory of Quentin’s death. This author, like the collective fandom, assumed that death would be temporary… and thus, this is the story of Eliot being the Orpheus to Quentin’s Eurydice. It is stunning - a gold standard in writing intense grief with a happy ending. Eliot is undone by Quentin’s death here, and has to fight through obstacle after obstacle to get him back - the biggest one being, his own lack of self-worth. There’s also a somewhat-connected sequel/prequel called And Remember What You Were Before (Not Rated, 6,998 words), which is completely worth the read.

(like a perfect picture) in a broken frame by PanBoleyn (@eidetictelekinetic). Not Rated. 20,631 words. Another resurrection/fix-it fic… Really great group dynamics as everyone works on bringing Quentin back, but also a focus on Eliot’s despair. Kind of your standard fix-it, exactly what the characters should have tried to do, in a world where canon hadn’t betrayed us so badly.

life fades (but you remain) by peacefrog (@lizardkingeliot). Explicit. 62,735. Stunning. STUNNING. Eliot finds a way to get Quentin back, but it comes at a cost. The two of them have to work it out. This features some incredibly good angst with a happy ending, scorching sex, a really intriguing OC in an early chapter, and some nice screen-time for the lovely Alice Quinn, to boot.

as it was by peacefrog (@lizardkingeliot). Mature. 3,913 words. Short and sweet - Penny-40 leads Quentin to where he needs to go, and that’s back home to Eliot.

In the Woods Somewhere by pineapplecrushface (@pineapplecrushface). Explicit. 15,528 words. This is the most creative take on a fix-it I’ve seen! The summary outlines the premise best: “Alice being unable to wipe younger Quentin's memory during the timeshare spell had a ripple effect.” Eliot is so desperate for Quentin in this one, and Quentin, from the afterlife, is having to work out how he feels and where he wants to be.

In Which We Grieve by portraitofemmy (@portraitofemmy). Teen. 3,413 words. I hesitate to call this a “fix-it” really, since Quentin doesn’t come back to life. But despite that, he and Eliot make it work. This is sad, but cathartic too.

(this is not a) Temporary Love by rizcriz (@sadlittlenerdking). Teen. 20,684 words. A fix-it that includes some intense mosaic feels too, as Margo and Eliot read over some letters/notes written during the mosaic timeline. I also like this one for how the rest of the gang finally notices how sick and worn-down Quentin is, and forces Q and Eliot to take a mental health vacation once Quentin is back in the land of the living!

~~~~~

Post-Season Four/Post-Possession - Not Fix-Its

These stories take place after the events of season four, or, in some cases, after an imagined ending of season four (written before the series finale aired), ignoring season five canon. They are not fix-its in the sense that either a) they ignore Quentin’s death in canon and proceed like it never happened, or b) Quentin’s resurrection happened “off-screen” and is not the focus of the story. These fics often deal with the aftermath, both physical and psychological, of Eliot’s possession. They also usually deal with Quentin and Eliot’s reconciliation after the events of seasons three and four, and sometimes continue through their time as an established couple.

your body (your heart) in his hands by Allegria23 (@allegria23). Explicit. 18,636 words. This fic follows Eliot and Quentin into their future. I’m recommending it specifically for the way it deals with Quentin’s discipline - I’ve never seen a fic tackle the subject in quite this way, and with so much care and gentleness. If you are not a fan of kid!fic, don’t be put off by the premise - Eliot and Quentin are great fathers with amazing kids in this future universe, but the focus really does remain on their romance. This story is part of a series called second time around which is all worth a read, especially the latest part, entitled The Special Dish. The whole series really embodies the romance of effort, and how putting in the time to nurture and grow a relationship is what makes it work.

Be still my foolish heart (i’m almost me again) by Butterfly (@butterflydm). Explicit. 3,754 words. A birthday fic for Quentin - he’s a little overwhelmed by the party held in his honor. He sneaks off to be alone, Eliot follows him, and Q tells Eliot about his discipline.

Living Room, NY by cartographies (@honeybabydichotomy). Teen. 11,254 words. Eliot goes to therapy. I’m recc’ing this specifically for Eliot’s rambling confession of love to Quentin in chapter two. The whole thing is lovely, but that part really knocked me the fuck out.

Imagine being loved by me. by destielpasta (@queliotpasta). Explicit. 11,225 words. Holy moly. This is a top-tier fave for me. It’s about sex, it’s about love, it’s about working through a relationship after trauma. Eliot is touch-starved but can’t be touched - so Quentin and Eliot must get creative.

Yes and Yes and Maybe Yes by hetrez (@hetrez). Mature. 5,542 words. The author describes this as “consent porn, with feelings,” and that’s a pretty good descriptor. Quentin has PTSD because of the Monster, and Eliot’s touch can be triggering for him. They work together to get through it. This is hot, yes, but it’s hot specifically because of how badly Eliot wants to take care of Quentin and make him feel safe.

The Dreamers by hetrez (@hetrez). Teen. 10,143 words. Post-possession, Quentin and Eliot are together but things aren’t smooth sailing. The scene from this story that always sticks in my head is Quentin asking Eliot if he wants to have a family again, like they did before with Arielle and Teddy - and Eliot’s horrifically wrong-footed response: “You’ll get a wife again and we’ll have another baby.” As might be predicted, Quentin doesn’t take that very well… and this story is at least partially working out where they stand, what they both want.

The Drum Beats Out of Time by HMGFanfic (@hmgfanfic). Mature. 68,605 words. This series features two stories: Suitcase of Memories and I Fall Behind. Both are amazing, but I Fall Behind in particular is one of my top-tier favorite fics in the whole fandom. This fic does not pull its punches in terms of the effects of Eliot’s possession, and it makes things really rough for Quentin and Eliot’s relationship. Quentin does a reckless thing, Eliot panics, they hash it out - but it’s not easy, and it’s not so clear-cut. These fics also features glimpses of their life together at the mosaic, and a lovely epilogue that shows how they’ve made progress and are still healing as a couple.

the right time and place by impossibletruths (@impossibletruths). Teen. 3,675 words. Eliot trying to propose to Quentin. It’s sweet and fluffy and good for the soul.

hearts like houses by impossibletruths (@impossibletruths). Explicit. 11,888 words. Quentin and Eliot celebrate Eliot’s birthday, post-possession. They get away for a trip, to try and put their worries behind them. This story is full of so much intimacy and gentleness that it just melts my whole heart.

five times my writing was better than the magicians by micksgotkicks (@lovelyquentin). Teen. 6,019 words. These are just… soft. It’s five different short fics, all with slight variations on the simple concept of Quentin and Eliot reuniting post-possession. There’s no intensive deep-dive, nothing too grim or challenging. It’s just the two of them finding their way to each other again and again. Very healing to read, in light of canon’s (inferior) version of reality.

struck from a great height by mtothedestiel (@summersteve). Explicit. 4,517 words. “Life affirming sex” is the most telling tag on this thing. Post-possession, Eliot and Quentin find their way into each other’s arms. Really hot sex, lots of feelings… everything we deserved at the end of the Monster story-line.

And So Lift Your Spirits by OrchardsinSnow (@orchardsinsnow). Explicit. 3,437 words. This was one of the first fics I remember reading in the aftermath of my desperate post-season four feelings, and it hit the spot in the best way. Eliot’s POV - he loves Quentin, but has doubts that he’s actually deserving of something so wonderful, that Quentin could really reciprocate and want to stay. Quentin finds an insanely hot, insanely romantic way to reassure him.

Ten Twenty-Eight by Page161of180. Not Rated. 5,974 words. This is slice-of-life about Quentin Coldwater and how he’s spent Eliot’s birthday, October 28, over the years. It’s told through notes from the Library branch of the Underworld, with added comments from Alice and Penny. It’s weird, but rewarding. I love the record-keeping aspect. This author has a real gift for outsider POV, and this is one of my favorites!

Nights and Mornings by Page161of180. Mature. 6,734 words. Two connected stories, in the aftermath of possession. Quentin doesn’t die, but he does still get back together with Alice, a la 4x12. These stories deal with Eliot’s thoughts on that, and… spoiler… Quentin/Alice is just not meant to be. Quentin makes a different choice.

The Honor of Your Presence by Page161of180. Mature. 18,117 words. Quentin and Eliot get married, and we hear the story from three different POVs… Todd, Rafe, and Marina 23. Random? Yes. Brilliant? Also yes. I love how each POV has a different and distinct literary style. And how even the people who aren’t closest to Quentin and Eliot can see how insanely in love they are with each other.

The Wanting Then, the Needing Now by Page161of180. Not rated. 3,799 words. Alice’s POV, as Eliot is saved from possession, and Quentin falls apart. Basically, Alice realizes where Quentin really belongs. I love the way this author does justice to Quentin’s love for Alice - it’s not a footnote, it’s not an insignificant blip. It’s real, and that doesn’t invalidate the fact that Quentin chooses Eliot. This has a much longer sequel which is also very good - but that story is more Alice-centric and not really focused on Queliot as much, even though they definitely play a part.

Lay Me Down (Pockets Full of Stones) by PanBoleyn (@eidetictelekinetic). Not Rated. 10,024 words. Post-possession, Eliot realizes how badly Quentin has been dealing with things. He’s angry at their friends for not keeping a better eye out - but all that matters right now is finding Quentin and making sure he’s alright. I love this story for how messy their reunion is - how all of their feelings just come spilling out of them without finesse.

(one kiss) it all comes down to this by PanBoleyn (@eidetictelekinetic). Not Rated. 6,391 words. True Love’s Kiss… the boys need to talk about their feelings, and a curse forces the issue. This is so entirely my jam.

box of chocolates by peacefrog (@lizardkingeliot). Mature. 9,256 words. This short series begins with the Teen-rated for love (if it finds you worthy) and features Eliot asking Quentin to be his valentine. Because Quentin and Eliot are… Quentin and Eliot, it still takes them a little while to get their shit together, after that.

when lips and skin remember by peacefrog (@lizardkingeliot). Explicit. 6,163 words. This is for the monthly prompt challenge - “blindfolds” and features Quentin helping Eliot through some sensory issues, post-Monster possession.

an end (but the start of all things that are left to do) by peacefrog (@lizardkingeliot). Explicit. 2,388 words. Birthday smut! Q is alive and gets a blowjob, as the universe requires.

the one with the dog by portraitofemmy (@portraitofemmy). Explicit. 80,517 words. If you haven’t already read this series, what are you waiting for?? It is IDEAL for soothing the soul. Eliot and Quentin deal with the aftermath of their trauma, both physical and mental. They hang out at the condo in New York, they take care of an adorable dog named Lady Desdemona, they have lots of hot sex of course. They heal. Every single one of the twelve stories in this series is worth reading, but my favorites are probably (this is) the beat of my heart (Explicit, 11,700 words), Five Card Draw (Explicit, 3,531 words), all the way home I’ll be warm (Explicit, 15,640 words), and Come What May (Teen, 3,352 words).

5 Scenes from a Road Trip by portraitofemmy (@portraitofemmy). Explicit. 16,218 words. In the aftermath of season four (sans Quentin’s death), the boys need a change of scenery to begin healing and finding their way back to one another. I love how this fic shows their closeness, and how the boundaries of their relationship often defy description. They love each other beyond sex, beyond conventional romance - although they achieve those things, too, as they definitely deserve.

did you know my baby loves me? by portraitofemmy (@portraitofemmy). Explicit. 7,776 words. Quentin tops Eliot on his birthday. What it says on the tin. But as always with this author, even something that should be ostensibly a PWP is filled with so much feeling and love that you could just drown in it.

To Learn to Be Again by portraitofemmy (@portraitofemmy). Explicit. 18,295 words. “I don’t think- I can’t be anyone’s boyfriend right now, Eliot.” Eliot loves Quentin, Quentin loves Eliot, but that’s not always enough to give them a happily ever after. Quentin goes to therapy, deals with his trauma and his mental health, and Eliot is right there beside him with no expectations. This is so, so lovely and every ounce of their happiness feels earned and all the more precious for the pain that’s mixed up with it.

do not go gentle by portraitofemmy (@portraitofemmy). Explicit. 10,260 words. This is almost a fix-it, in that Quentin imagines the events of 4x13, but they don’t actually happen. So be warned if any depiction of Quentin’s death is a trigger for you. I love the way this story deals with the Alice of it all, and also the way Quentin and Eliot talk through their situation and find a way back to each other once again. (Also shower sex happens). This author has written multiple versions of this same reconciliation, but each one is so lovely and I’ll never get sick of it.

the strange act of living by propinquitous (@propinquitous). Explicit. 13,632 words. So there are a lot of fics out there that deal with the aftermath of Eliot’s possession of course. A lot of fics that feature Eliot and Quentin slowly, painfully, finding a way to reconcile. This one holds a special place in my heart for this particular moment, where Quentin walks past Eliot without saying anything, grabs a muffin from the counter, and leaves the room. Later, Q finds Eliot crying in the shower, and Eliot asks him why he just left, taking the food Eliot had made for him, and then ignoring him. That one moment has stuck with me ever since I read the fic, and I keep coming back to it. In all, this captures a very specific kind of hurt that both Quentin and Eliot are feeling, and gets them on the path to healing. Gorgeous.

the safety of others by propinquitous (@propinquitous). Teen. 8,122 words. Quentin doesn’t die in 4x13, but he does get injured. And Eliot keeps vigil. This is - so powerful. I don’t even know how to describe it. Just read it, please.

Magic Curses by Rizandace (@Nellie-Elizabeth). Explicit. 134,886 words. This series includes six stories, each dealing with Quentin and Eliot’s relationship as they undergo external threats from creative and somewhat evil magical curses. It’s my attempt to write in some more hurt/comfort to the fandom, and also to indulge in some established-relationship goodness! The first story, Lover’s Touch (Explicit, 24,781 words), is summarized thusly: “Q gets cursed, and Alice can’t help. Magic forces Q and Eliot to cuddle and talk about their feelings.”

Coming Home by rizcriz (@sadlittlenerdking). Not Rated. 2,958 words. Short and sweet. The author succinctly describes this as: “Eliot gets to be brave.” And he does. He says the thing he wants to say to Quentin, and Q eventually believes him.

Enough by SabbyStarlight. Teen. 2,746 words. This was written just before 4x13 came out. If only if only this is how it had gone instead… basically just Quentin and Eliot talking about their feelings, negotiating their relationship.

Boyfriend by sirfoxheart (@sirfoxheart). Teen. 6,727 words. Quentin is sensitive about the fact that Eliot isn’t introducing him as his boyfriend. This is just… the sweetest. I love that there’s some jealousy and insecurity, but it’s a manageable, reasonable type - Eliot and Quentin are able to talk about it and get past this small bump in the road.

Hunger by sirfoxheart (@sirfoxheart). Explicit. 4,327 words. Quentin gets a birthday blowjob. The end. :)

~~~~~

Mosaic Timeline

These stories are ones that take place almost or entirely within the mosaic timeline - both in keeping with, and in deviation from, what we see in 3x05.

help me hold onto you by ameliajessica (@ameliajessica). Explicit. 14,768 words. This one will hurt your heart, but it’s so rewarding. Featuring Eliot being ridiculously turned on by talking about feelings during sex… and Quentin loving Eliot while grieving for Arielle.

‘Cause my baby’s sweet as can be by destielpasta (@queliotpasta). Teen. 645 words. Tiny fic - maybe the shortest one on the list. Quentin and Eliot are bad at talking about their feelings. Who’s surprised?

flowing all this time by mtothedestiel (@summersteve). Explicit. 5,488 words. This is one of those fics where Arielle isn’t an obstacle for the boys… but rather, Eliot is an obstacle for Quentin and Arielle, in a way. It has some bittersweet moments, but I love how much Eliot loves Quentin here. This is also (spoiler) the rare fic where Arielle chooses to leave, rather than dying.

a cure i know (that soothes the soul) by peacefrog (@lizardkingeliot). Explicit. 4,857 words. Little snippets of Quentin and Eliot’s life through the years at the mosaic. Recc’ing especially for middle-aged Queliot, which we see all too little of in this fandom!

measure in love by portraitofemmy (@portraitofemmy). Explicit. 51,827 words. This is a series about Quentin, Eliot, and Arielle’s lives together at the mosaic. I don’t know if the author plans to write more in this series or not, but each one can stand alone. I am particularly enamored with The Ways We Fit Together (Explicit, 11,661 words), which is summarized succinctly as “sex and love in the mosaic timeline”, and You Steer My Heart (Explicit, 25,217 words), which follows Eliot’s mindset as he watches Quentin and Arielle fall in love with each other, while Quentin and Eliot continue to love each other as well. It’s stunning, and probably my favorite take on the three of them and their polyamorous relationship. This series has everything - the best combination of smut and feelings you could hope for.

Running All This Time by Rizandace (@Nellie-Elizabeth). Explicit. 179,478 words.The story of the mosaic timeline, built on the foundation of love and communication. To my knowledge, the only completed mosaic long-fic in the fandom thus far! Includes Fillorian nonsense, a quest within a quest, plenty of sex, lots of hurt/comfort, a different take on Arielle, and happy endings for everyone.

Reciprocal by Rizandace (@Nellie-Elizabeth). Teen. 8,259. Eliot is an idiot about his feelings (what else is new?), and he tries to make things better in the worst possible way. This fic imagines a world where Eliot and Quentin find happiness together without Arielle as a part of their romantic/sexual lives.

my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand by sirfoxheart (@sirfoxheart). Explicit. 9,586 words. This is the porn-iest version of “Quentin and Eliot don’t know how to talk about their feelings.” Basically, the boys keep jerking off next to each other in bed, and they don’t talk about it because they’re IDIOTS.

you know that’s my love (bursting loud from inside) by sirfoxheart (@sirfoxheart). Explicit. 11,904 words. Another fic where Arielle decides to leave. Eliot is so good at taking care of his family.

tomorrow past tonight by vegansheilseitan. Explicit. 7,676 words. Okay - if you’re only going to read one gap-filler for 3x05, that’s basically just the missing sex scene and nothing else, make it this one. It’s hot, and it’s aching with everything Quentin and Eliot aren’t saying to each other. This is one of my absolute favorites.

~~~~~

Brakebills Alternate Universe / Season One

These stories are generally, but not always, pure relationship fics where the plot concerns of canon (i.e. the Beast, and time loops) do not exist, and instead Quentin and Eliot get to be magical grad students together, and fall in love.

Every Blessed Thing by achray. Explicit. 7,795 words. Quentin turns himself invisible. This fic is complex in how Alice and Quentin’s relationship is portrayed, and the resolution isn’t clear-cut. I really like this characterization of both Quentin and Eliot.

saturate the atmosphere (wake me from a dream) by Allegria23 (@allegria23). Explicit. 7,394 words. This is some good ol’ sexy times with a healthy dash of feelings. Eliot involuntarily levitates them while Quentin’s giving him a blowjob, so… that’s honestly all you need to know about this one. Go give it a read.

i feel it in my body, know it in my mind by ameliajessica (@ameliajessica). Mature. 11,817 words. Let’s pretend that this is what happened in 1x03, okay? Kady doesn’t interrupt when Eliot pours Q a drink, and sex ensues. I love how flabbergasted Eliot is by everything that happens - especially his reaction to the news that Quentin isn’t straight, and isn’t going to be squeamish at the thought of sleeping with a man. So hot, so cute.

if being him is who you are / say it loud say you know you are by ameliajessica (@ameliajessica). Mature. 5,293 words. Okay, holy shit. Mike’s POV - he decides that he and Eliot should have a threesome with Quentin, so Eliot can get it out of his system. Uh. Yeah, that backfires. Poor Mike. But also - the sex in this is the epitome of tenderness and love. Eliot is so careful with Quentin, so awed and desperate and shaky at the chance to be with him. There is a sequel in the works, too, so watch out for that!

Hedonism for Beginners by ceeainthereforthat (@ceeainthereforthat). Explicit. 20,730 words. A series of filthy sex, basically. Eliot is teaching Quentin about what he likes in bed. I don’t know if the series is abandoned or not, but in any case, each of these works on its own as a PWP but with a deep undercurrent of feelings.

Something Good by HMGFanfic (@hmgfanfic). Teen. 162,260 words. The Gold Standard slow-burn rom-com AU! Seriously, I know everyone’s read this, but if you haven’t for some reason… please do. The slow-burn is so slow you’ll be tearing your hair out by the end, but it’s all worth it when you get to the catharsis. How oblivious can Quentin be about Eliot’s feelings? This fic asks and answers that question, and the answer is - very. There are also two fics that accompany the main story: Someone Good (Eliot’s POV of the main story) and Somewhere Good (future one-shots of Quentin and Eliot’s life together). Both are on hiatus but the author plans to return to them. You can read the existing chapter of each without feeling like anything is unfinished, though.

Not Always Folly by HMGFanfic (@hmgfanfic). Explicit. 262,583 words. Another amazing romantic… comedy? but this one is from Eliot’s POV and is in some ways more a character study of Eliot Waugh than it is simply a romance. Although the romance… you guys… the pining levels are off the charts. Eliot ends up hurting Quentin, and really everyone else he cares about, in this story, but he puts in the work to make it right. I admire this fic for diving deep into Eliot’s psyche while also delivering on an amazing slow-burn of a different sort. Bonus points for Alice and Eliot getting to be friends like they deserve!

Be kind by longnationalnightmare. Explicit. 10,069 words. It’s the highest kudo’d fic in the fandom! I assume that means you’ve all read it? This is a PWP, but I love it specifically for how much Eliot loses his usual control when he’s with Quentin.

to be unbroken or be brave again. by milominderbinder (@disasterbiquentin). Teen. 14,135 words. Hey, it’s a 10 Things I Hate About You AU! Kind of! Josh asks Quentin to pretend to date Eliot to cheer him up after a breakup, so that Margo will go out with Josh. But Q tells Eliot what’s up right away - so they’re fake dating but real feelings happen. Super cheesy, of course, but it hits the spot!

in the world full wrong (you’re the thing that’s right) by Mizzy (@Mizzy2k). Explicit. 5,307 words. Eliot tries to hook up with Quentin Coldwater and gets more than he bargained for. I love this for how matter-of-fact Quentin is, about the fact that Eliot wants to seduce him… and then hpw he ends up doing some seducing of his own.

If You Haven’t Yet by OrchardsinSnow (@orchardsinsnow). Explicit. 5,828 words. Obviously we all love confident Eliot Waugh totally rocking Quentin’s world… but I have a soft spot for oddly confident Quentin who really knows what he’s doing, and this fic has the perfect blend of both dynamics. The best part is Quentin slowly and methodically undressing Eliot and not letting him help. It’s… whew. *fans self*

the heat that drives the light by peacefrog (@lizardkingeliot). Explicit. 9,296 words. Quentin and Eliot have an antagonistic relationship, until Eliot realizes Quentin might be what he’s looking for in a sexual partner. Sub Eliot, new-to-being-a-Dom Quentin. Super hot.

it started out with a kiss (how did it end up like this) by portraitofemmy (@portraitofemmy). Explicit. 7,896 words. In the aftermath of a bad breakup, Quentin and Eliot find their way to each other. This is super amazing all on its own, but the author is also working on a sequel that I’m really enjoying thus far. Either story could probably be read without the other, too.

the bridge between us by portraitofemmy (@portraitofemmy). Explicit. 16,201 words. Dom Eliot, Sub Quentin. Quentin and Eliot navigate their BDSM sex life, but also their feelings. Eliot is so tender and soft with Q, and Q learns to take care of Eliot in return. This is one of my absolute favorites from this author. Also, as a note, there’s a “prequel” to this fic called paint it red (Explicit, 7,197 words) that could totally be read as a separate piece, but is worth checking out as the origin story of how these two got together and started shaping their dynamics, sexual and otherwise.

(Everyone Has) That Drawer by ProofOfConcept and wilddragonflying. Explicit. 5,782 words. Eliot finds Quentin’s stash of sex toys. It’s enough to get him to finally act on their mutual, unspoken attraction. Hot!

Wake Me Up by rizcriz (@sadlittlenerdking). Not Rated. 4,000 words. Quentin has sleep apnea, but Eliot doesn’t know that… and he gets a little - alarmed. This is objectively an odd premise, but it’s incredibly sweet. rizcriz has about a million stories and I’ve read a lot of them, but I’m a fan of the ones like this, that take a specific concept and run with it, sort of like slice-of-life. Check out more of their work, though, I can’t possibly put them all on the list!

Migraine Mastery by SabbyStarlight. Not rated. 2,012 words. Short and sweet - Quentin has a migraine and Eliot helps.

Between Friends by sirfoxheart (@sirfoxheart). Explicit. 15,019 words. This is the quintessential (Quentin-sential?) Brakebills get-together fic. It’s a party, Quentin and Eliot end up going to bed together… both of them are a little uncertain about what this means, but they work it out. Recc’ing for the hot sex, but even more for the “wake up in the middle of the night to have a tender round two without talking about what it means” sex.

Sex Magic by sirfoxheart (@sirfoxheart). Explicit. 42,006 words. Uhh… what it says on the tin. Every one of these is scorching, but my favorite is probably the first one: How Easy You Are To Need.

All Of You A Verb In Perfect View by sirfoxheart (@sirfoxheart). Explicit. 6,398 words. PWP where Eliot distracts Quentin while he tries to do his homework.

You Can Devastate Me by sirfoxheart (@sirfoxheart). Explicit. 9,018 words. Marqueliot sex scene - Quentin and Eliot are a couple, but Margo is running the show. Just… hot, but of course Eliot’s love for Quentin still permeates the whole piece. So much tenderness, with so much filth.

~~~~~

Alternate Universe (No Magic)

So many of these seem so completely random in premise, but they’re all amazing!

Our Sublime Refrain by destielpasta (@queliotpasta) and mtothedestiel (@summersteve). Explicit. 233,929 words. It’s 1836, Eliot is a pianist. This one is Marqueliot, y’all, and let me tell you - it is a journey. If you are somewhat put off by the idea of an AU so far removed from canon, about a topic you know very little about… please give this a try. I was a little hesitant too, but I promise it will not disappoint.

Pretty Good Year by Hth (@spiders-hth-is-an-outlier). Explicit. 175,728 words. I’m not going to lie - this is a difficult fic for me. It’s stunning, but getting through it was an incredibly emotional, challenging journey. While many fics in this fandom deal with Quentin’s mental illness, I’ve never seen a fic talk about it quite like this one. That’s not to put you off from trying it if you haven’t already - this is one of the most achingly real stories I’ve ever read, and it will reward you for giving it a chance.

opening doors by impossibletruths (@impossibletruths). Mature. 52,230 words. Quentin is a playwright! Eliot is an associate director who used to act! This is a slow-ish burn, and the worldbuilding of the characters in a theatrical setting is so fun!

couch party verse by marcel. Mature. 33,725 words. These two stories feature Quentin, Eliot, and the rest of the gang at a non-magical grad school. The thing I love about these stories is how slow and realistic the escalation of the relationship feels. It’s not a hot hookup right away - they clearly like each other, but circumstances sometimes get in the way, and there’s also no big rush to the finish line. This is a softer, gentler universe that still has its own realism and trauma, too. I hope the author chooses to add to it someday!

Saltwater by mtothedestiel (@summersteve). Explicit. 35,560 words. It’s a pirate AU! What more could you possibly need to know? I love how all of the characters and locations are cleverly repurposed here - the Whitespire and Our Lady Underground are ships, Quentin is a ship’s doctor, Eliot is a captain, etc. And the slowburn between Quentin and Eliot is masterful. This is actually a series - part one is complete, and part two is in progress.

A (Gingerbread) House that we can Build by mtothedestiel (@summersteve), with art by eliotsvests (surprisegents). Explicit. 28,189 words. I am not a cheesy Christmas movie person, and I am not a kid!fic person. So I thought this might not be the story for me, at first. But I’m so glad I clicked on it - this is a story about second chances, and finding happiness when you aren’t even looking for it. And I love the way little Teddy is written here. He’s got all the sweetness of Quentin Coldwater’s son, without tilting over into being saccharine. This is just the right amount of sweet if you want to put yourself back in the holiday spirit.

I’ll Follow My Secret Heart by OrchardsinSnow (@orchardsinsnow). Mature. 17,613 words. I don’t really know how to describe this one… it’s weird! It’s a meet cute, Eliot gets in an accident, there’s a blizzard, bed (floor) sharing so as to prevent freezing to death, Eliot is kinda famous and Quentin doesn’t know. All I can say is, this is precious, and odd, and I got totally swept up in the world.

I Need You So Much Closer by OrchardsinSnow (@orchardsinsnow). Explicit. 14,436 words. I love this story. Eliot is a musician, he and Quentin are exes from years ago, who fell apart because of Eliot’s alcoholism. But he’s sober now, and he’s touring where Quentin lives - so they reconnect. Eliot calls Quentin the “smoke show love of [his] life” at one point in this fic, and that phrase just… stuck with me in the best way. Don’t miss the mini-sequel, You Need Me So Much Closer (Explicit, 3,874 words), either. I really hope the author writes more in this universe!

Experimentation by portraitofemmy (@portraitofemmy). Explicit. 4,812 words. PWP where Eliot meets Quentin at a sex shop and Eliot teaches him what he’s into. Hot hot hot.

(i just might) remember that night by portraitofemmy (@portraitofemmy). Explicit. 4,732 words. This might be crack, I don’t know. There are dick pics, and it’s silly, but also Quentin and Eliot feel this amazing connection to each other right off the bat, and that is honestly my jam.

and if tomorrow it’s all over (at least we had it for a moment) by sirfoxheart (@sirfoxheart). Explicit. 45,461 words. Quentin and Eliot were a couple in high school, but they haven’t seen each other in years. They run into each other again at Julia’s wedding, and everything comes rushing back. I like the fact that this fic features very little (if any) angst. The idea is that these two people missed out on their chance to be together, but they haven’t been desperately pining for years. But once they’re back in a room together… their connection is undeniable. Also, the sex is great.

hold me like a (liar) lover does by sirfoxheart (@sirfoxheart) with art by Doomkitty25. Explicit. 80,812 words. A holiday fic! Fake dating! Mutual pining! So tropey and excellent. Really hot sex, as is the norm for this author! Warning for Alice being something of a villain in this piece, although there’s a potential reconciliation implied right at the end. I love this fic for going beyond just the romance, and also telling a story about Quentin and Eliot’s careers, and what they want out of their lives - in terms of romance, yes, but in terms of their work lives as well.

Ask Me, I Won’t Say No by vegansheilseitan. Explicit. 22,616 words. A… pub trivia AU? Which is a thing I didn’t know I needed? Mostly this is about widower!Quentin, with a kid, meeting Eliot Waugh. They fall in love. The sex in this is incendiary, but the growing relationship between these two is what really makes it worth the read.

~~~~~

Alternate Universe (With Magic)

These stories feature roughly the same worldbuilding as the show’s canon, but the character’s journeys deviate significantly. Maybe Quentin and Eliot don’t meet at Brakebills, or their journey to getting there is different in some other way!

fire and life by everytuesday. Teen. 7,060 words. This is a high school AU, where Eliot discovers his magic, and accidentally kills his father. Quentin helps him to bury the body. It’s a little bit dark, obviously, given that description… so take care.

First Year by peacefrog (@lizardkingeliot). Mature. 11,957 words. Quentin is a Brakebills student, who also happens to be a sylph from Fillory. He has wings, and Eliot is more than a little intrigued. The author may have plans to write a sequel!

push me (further than i thought i could go) by peacefrog (@lizardkingeliot). Explicit. 15,036 words. Quentin and Eliot meet at a game of Push, and then have their own private contest later on. Mostly recommending this one for the sex, but also for Confident Quentin Coldwater, and for the fact that no matter the circumstances, these boys are gone for each other pretty much right away.

Hedges, Bitch by portraitofemmy (@portraitofemmy). Explicit. 56,568 words. This series has four works, the longest “main” story of which, theón kai andrón, is another personal favorite of mine. It features Eliot as the leader of a coven of hedge witches, and Quentin as a magical novice who didn’t make it into Brakebills. I love the dynamic between Quentin and Eliot in these stories, as they fall naturally into a dom/sub relationship, but Eliot works to make sure the power differential between them doesn’t adversely affect things, either on the job, or in their personal lives. Eliot is just so soft for Quentin in these stories, while also admiring him and depending on him as the gang gets themselves caught up in a dangerous threat to hedges all over the world.

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Fillory/Royalty

These stories are sometimes canon deviations, and usually deal with Eliot as the High King, and his relationship with Quentin from there.

oh this is us, this is love and this is where I sleep by buckybunnyteeth. Explicit. 4,360 words. Quentin is jealous of Idri! Eliot is way, way too delighted about it. Really hot. I probably shouldn’t be as charmed by jealous!Quentin as I am. But this is amazing.

Make a list of things you need by longnationalnightmare. Explicit. 10,264 words. Eliot and Quentin are getting married, but Eliot’s okay with keeping it platonic. Quentin… is not. Hot, hot, hot.

i’d be the last shred of truth (in the lost myth of true love) by milominderbinder (@disasterbiquentin), with art by gilestel. Eliot and Margo are made the High Kings of Fillory, and then later Eliot meets a cute Brakebills professor Quentin Coldwater, who is staying at Whitespire for research. There’s a truth curse! Eliot is set to marry Idri, but uh-oh, feelings happen! Tropey as hell, super cute.

and this is the map of my heart by peacefrog (@lizardkingeliot). Explicit. 14,033 words. Eliot is High King, and he is expected to marry. Quentin magnanimously offers himself for the position, and of course there’s angst about that. And scorching hot sex. And Eliot struggling to be emotionally vulnerable. One of my absolute favorites from the author.

whitespire by peacefrog (@lizardkingeliot). Explicit. 1,529 words. Eliot sits on his throne, Quentin drops to his knees and calls him “Your Majesty.” So… yeah. Yum.

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Brian and Nigel

This is an area where more content needs to exist! Send me a note if there are some I’ve missed.

A Little Disguised, or a Little Mistaken by Page161of180. Mature. 17,807 words. Brian and Nigel find each other, and fall in love. This is gorgeous. Quentin and Eliot are recognizably themselves, but also just different enough that when their real selves start poking through the memory wipe, you can feel the change coming. Another story where canon comes along and steals happiness right out from under them. They were so close!

Shine Through My Memory by PanBoleyn (@eidetictelekinetic). Mature. 61,311 words. This one starts as a fic about Brian and Nigel meeting and falling in love… and then the Monster still possesses Nigel/Eliot, and the events of season four continue from there. But with memories of Brian and Nigel’s love in Quentin’s head, things play out a little differently. We follow the story all the way through to Eliot getting saved by Margo and Quentin, and the reconciliation/reunion afterwards. This fic has a little of everything, and it’s really the only re-telling of season four I’ve seen that covers the canon plot while adding something new and unique to the story!

Reaching in the Dark by sirfoxheart (@sirfoxheart). Mature. 53,040 words. Eliot remembers who he is, but Quentin thinks he’s Brian. Eliot and Alice work together to protect Quentin from the Monster. This is so complex and difficult and sad and challenging, and when you reach the end, you’ll feel so frustrated about how close they were to figuring their shit out. But ultimately, canon comes back to snatch that happy ending away.

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Other

The few fics that I couldn’t categorize neatly into any of the above sections.

So It May As Well Be Me by achray. Explicit. 14,596 words. There was only one bed. Trapped in a closet. Sex pollen. Sex magic rituals. Every fanfic trope becomes manifest. Quentin seems oblivious; Eliot is freaking out. This is just the epitome of fun.

our place in the family of things by greywash, with art by yourtinseltinkerbell (@yourtinseltinkerbell). Explicit. 208,582 words. This is sort of a Brakebills AU, I suppose, but it takes place after Eliot has graduated. Quentin comes to visit over the holidays. So here’s the thing about greywash’s prose - they are stunning. They are dense, and complex, and almost hard to read - but I mean that as the highest compliment. This story, and really all of this author’s work, rewards careful study. This story has so, so much to offer. So if you haven’t given it a shot, or you’re intimidated by the length, please give it a try. Featuring Eliot’s complex relationship with his mother, with religion, with his sexuality, with Quentin, with Margo. Featuring a story of queer love that transcends time and convention. Featuring some excellent worldbuilding, especially as concerns Quentin’s family, and Eliot’s career. Featuring beautiful accompanying artwork. Featuring a proposal scene that knocked me the fuck out. Featuring love, in every way.

To Give You Hope and a Future by Page161of180. Not rated. 4,374 words. I couldn’t put this in the fix-it category, or in the mosaic category, or really even in the post-season four category. It’s all and none of those things. Eliot, in the aftermath of Quentin’s death, goes to the mosaic and talks to old man Quentin, who is grieving his husband. This is sad, y’all. But cathartic, too.

Cheat Day by peacefrog (@lizardkingeliot). Explicit. 1,624 words. Set during season four. Quentin misses Eliot, and does something sad and dangerous. Short and… well, sweet is the wrong word. This one will punch you right in the gut.

Movement by pineapplecrushface (@pineapplecrushface). Explicit. 17,036 words. These are three stories that are only loosely connected in that they are about sex, and introspection. They fit into lots of categories - parts of them take place in Eliot’s happy place, parts at the mosaic, parts in the aftermath of possession. All three stories in the series are scorching hot and full of so much feeling. I really admire how they weave through time, following the changing dynamics through the events of canon in a really unique way.

darkness, welcoming by portraitofemmy (@portraitofemmy). Explicit. 17,748 words. I almost put this in the Alternate Universe (With Magic) section, but this is not the same world as canon. Eliot is a vampire! He saves Quentin’s life and then… uh… well, they fall in love, and there’s some blood play. Eliot is super smitten, and it’s precious. Also really hot.

What Was and What Will Be by ProofOfConcept and wilddragonflying. Mature. 35,996 words. This is part mosaic-fic, part post-possession fic… it’s basically just another story of these two idiots being so bad at communication, but finally getting it right. A really satisfying journey, encompassing so many elements of what we all wished for in canon. I especially loved the long and difficult conversation they have during their reunion. The line that really punched me in the gut was: “fuck you for saying ‘I love you’ for the first goddamn time when you’re breaking up with me.”

kiss me harder, you’re better than you know by propinquitous (@propinquitous). Explicit. 4,633 words. This could easily take place in a nebulous post-season-four world, but it exists in its own little bubble and could really slot into any given universe. It deals with Quentin’s depression in a really direct, really devastating way, but also features Eliot being there for Quentin as best as he can. As the tags say, “not the healthiest of coping mechanisms.” But it’s filled with so much tenderness I can hardly stand it.

To Feel the Same by Rizandace (@Nellie-Elizabeth). Teen. 1,725 words. A small gap-filler at the end of the “I think you should probably hug me right now” scene in 2x01.

#the magicians #queliot #fic recs #my posts #this took me forEVER #so please reblog and add your own suggestions!#also yes i did put my own fics on here... i'm proud of them and want more people to find them!#117 fics & series (and counting!)#the links seem to be working on mobile #but not desktop #which is annoying?#but that's tumblr for ya

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