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nereidprinc3ss · 7 months ago

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strange perfections

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

series masterlist

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

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

Stupid scarf, you think.

Stupid door.

Stupid wind.

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

You look at the stack of papers and sigh.

Stupid Lord Byron.

Stupid cafe.

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Think of something normal to say!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you do that?”

His cheeks turn slightly pink.

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

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack.

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

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

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

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble.

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

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

“Does that make it better?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was totally in love with me.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout.

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

Spencer. Spencer.

It feels important.

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

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

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

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

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

Spence.

Reality sets in.

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

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

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away.

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

“Who was that?”

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more.

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

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

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

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

“Uh… hi?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed.

Adorable? Get a grip.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

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

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

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

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents.

So that’s cool.

You’re cool with that.

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer.

“Hotch?”

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

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

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

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

Nah. Boys are dumb.

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

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

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

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

Weird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brow furrows and you laugh.

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

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

You say it before you can think too hard.

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

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

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

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

It ceases. And then it starts again.

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

“Do you think you should…”

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

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

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

But his job is important.

“What if you have a case?”

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer.

You balk.

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

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

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

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

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

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

“Restaurants.”

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

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

You look down. God, your face feels warm.

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

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

“I would.”

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

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

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

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

Spencer chuckles.

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

Not, what?

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

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

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

He says none of that.

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

“Sounds like a good first step.”

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

“Will you go on a date with me?”

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

“I’d love to.”

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

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

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

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

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

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper.

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird.

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

part four

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

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hairmetal666 · 4 months ago

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Wayne's used to worrying about Eddie. He should be; he's been doing it since the kid was twelve. First it was Eddie's silence, his permanent frown, the way the bones stood out too prominent on his small wrists. Then it was the kids at school, taunting him and calling him names, the fights and calls from the principal's office. Next came the late nights, the drinking, the dealing, failing his senior year twice. But all of those times, every single one, Wayne had known what to do. Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe it took a little time, but he'd always figured out exactly what his boy needed.

And now--now Wayne doesn't know if he can help; knows it's not in his power to fix it.

So, he sits for the second week in a row, watching his nephew--his whole heart--sitting in front of the window, looking out at the forest, nursing the same cup of coffee that he poured six hours ago, and wonders how in the world he can help.

They're cleaning up from dinner, Eddie quiet at his side, when he says, "Gonna need some help with the mugs tomorrow."

After moving to Oregon once Eddie graduated and he retired, he found an affinity for pottery. Never woulda thought it, but he loves it and tourists love his booth at the farmers market.

He can't think of a better way to get his nephew out of the house, but wonders if he doesn't know his boy as well as he thinks after a decade in Los Angeles, that Eddie'll refuse. He just nods, though, goes back to drying the plate in his hands.

And next morning, right at 6:45, Eddie is in the living room in black jeans that are so worn they're nearly grey in places, and the threadbare Metallica tee Wayne thrifted for him nearly a decade back. It's a win. Small, yes--Eddie doesn't even complain once about the country-western station Wayne plays in the truck--but still a step forward.

Wayne wastes no time parking and handing Eddie a box of carefully packed merchandise. He leads the way, trusts that Eddie is right on his heels until he hears Jim Hopper's voice say, "You better keep an eye on those mugs, son. Your uncle will tan your hide."

He turns to see Hopper balancing one end of Eddie's box, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, I--uh, I've got it now." Hopper lets go and for the briefest instant Eddie's eyes dart to the side and the pink in his cheeks grows deeper.

Wayne tracks the path Eddie's eyes took and finds--he swallows back a chuckle--Steve Harrington just setting one of his Adirondack chairs into place, his t-shirt lifted to show of a stretch of stomach.

Well. Eddie did always like the pretty ones.

They setup the booth in companionable silence, and Hopper pops back over for a proper introduction. Before he departs again, he says to Eddie, "I got some kids who really love that dnd game and your show. They're going to be crazy to meet you. That okay?"

And Eddie, he's a good boy, he smiles and nods but as soon as Hopper is out of earshot, Wayne's saying, "Hop's kids and their friends are big fans and I know you're heartsore about the cancellation, but you better be polite."

Eddie glares. "What do you think, old man, that I'll be mean to children?"

"Well, with how you've been moping around the cabin these last few weeks, hard to know."

He scoffs. "Yeah, well. Netflix putting your hit show on indefinite hiatus without warning or explanation will do that to a guy."

Wayne knows there's nothing he can say to soften this hurt, so he gives Eddie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "I'm proud of you no matter what, son."

His nephew nods, eyes down, but Wayne doesn't miss the small, pleased, lift at the corner of his lips.

The morning passes smoothly and Wayne pretends he doesn't notice every time he finds Eddie's gaze straying to Steve's booth.

The kids come by around noon, Dustin Henderson breaking away from the pack to shriek, "You're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie smiles, stands. "That I am, young adventurer." He bows low, exaggerated and the kids giggle. "Pray tell, what are your names?"

The chatter is fast and easy, Eddie the happiest he's been in weeks, and Wayne relaxes back in his chair, lets out a long, slow breath of relief at the breaking storm. He stretches back in his chair, eyes catching on Steve Harrington across the way. Steve who is watching Eddie and the kids with an expression Wayne can only think of as fond.

Wayne isn't one to play matchmaker, but--he thinks, just maybe, just this once he could nudge.

It happens late in the afternoon, when business has well-slowed, Eddie asking, "Um--that guy over there, who is--what's his deal?"

Wayne thinks he manages to keep all traces of amusement from his face and voice as he answers, "Who? Ohh, Steve Harrington. He's the guidance counselor down at the middle school. Does a bit of carpentry in his free time. Best friends with the woman who owns that little bookstore."

He watches as Eddie processes, as his eyes widen, probably in remembrance of the pride flags and Protect Trans Kids shirts, how the woman in question wore a lesbian flag pin on her apron. "Guidance counselor?" He says eventually. "Kind of a drag."

"You would think, but the kids love him. The ones you met earlier today? He babysat them for years; imprinted on him, Jim and I say."

"Hmm," is the only response he gets, Eddie's attention back on the man in question.

---

The day after the market, Wayne walks into the living room to find Eddie's laptop tucked into the cushions of the window seat. He hasn't seen the thing since Eddie came home, never used to see him without it, and this--well.

He says, "need to run into town for a few things. You up for a trip? You might could stop at that bookstore."

Eddie nods, takes a sip of his coffee--he's actually drinking it-- says, "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be cool."

The store isn't busy when they arrive, and Wayne drifts towards the magazines to leave Eddie to his own devices.

Wayne loses himself to quiet browsing, wanting to give Eddie space, to maybe chat with Robin Buckley, strike up the beginnings of a friendship. Enough time passes, though, that Wayne is wondering where his boisterous, noticeable nephew could've disappeared to so silently.

He winds around a shelf and sees Eddie and Steve Harrington in deep conversation. He can't hear it, not really, but they're standing close, with pink in their cheeks. As he watches, Steve says something that makes Eddie laugh and pull a few strands of hair over his mouth.

They're almost inseparable after that. Eddie, Steve, Robin, and all those kids. They play dnd, have movie nights, spend hours at the diner. And Eddie, he's writing, sketching, gets down Wayne's acoustic guitar and plays around for a while.

When he asks how things are with "that Harrington boy," Eddie flushes red and says, "none of your business, old man" before giving Wayne a quick, affectionate squeeze.

---

Two and a half months after Eddie came to stay, Wayne's walking back from the river, the sky the light navy of new dusk. His fishing rod is draped over one shoulder, tackle box held easily in his fist, the walk home pleasant, a perfect end to a good day.

The light from the front porch seeps through the trees, and he's thinking about a cold beer, a warm pizza, if Eddie's found his way home yet, when figures standing on the porch stop him in his tracks.

It takes a second, longer, for his eyes to adjust from the dark of the woods, and the glow of the bulb, but then he sees--

Eddie and Steve locked in a fierce embrace, desperate and very much private.

He turns right back towards the river, doesn't mind giving the boys some time.

He waits a good half hour, just enjoying the forest, before heading back. Steve's car is gone, the porch vacant, but the cabin is lit up, bright and warm and inviting.

Wayne steps inside, and his nephew is there, laptop open, but he isn't working, just smiling to himself, chin resting on his fist.

"Okay?" Wayne asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Eddie's smile doesn't fall from his face.

He doesn't want to interfere, ask too much, not when he's sure things are still young. Instead, he asks, "What'd you say to ordering a pizza?"

And Eddie, heedless of Wayne's question, says,"you know. I've been thinking about maybe staying here for a little longer."

And Wayne, his smile grows, and he claps a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "You're welcome here for as long as you want. Already consider it your home anyway."

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inkskinned · 2 years ago

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i love my therapist but i hate being in therapy. 10 minutes before my appointment, i'm in a meeting with my boss - we discuss my artistic choices; my boss recommends i artistically choose less. 10 minutes after therapy, i wash my hair and think about everything that was said, and then i have to switch it off, like a lamp, and go back to work again.

i was on a walk the other day and someone had the perfect combination of his cologne and whatever-else. it was almost exactly his scent. i fucking hate that. after all these years, i remember that? i tell my therapist - i feel like a fucking wolf. try telling a middle-aged blonde lady. oh i scented him on the air. i'm 30, and i'm having a panic attack over something that would be a plotline in the omegaverse.

what they don't tell you about mental illness is that if you are lucky enough to survive it into adulthood; it becomes a weird slice of your life. because you do, eventually, have to build a life. i realized in a panic somewhere around 22 - oh. i don't know what i'm fucking doing, because i always assumed i'd just go ahead and die. i didn't die, and i'm grateful for that, and i'm very happy about that choice. but it does mean that i am an adult in an apartment, living with my conditions side-by-side like. oh, that's my roommate, adhd. ignore the glass, bytheway, that's ocd.

so you pick your stupid life up by the scruff of the neck and you're, like glad for it (so much laughter and light and friends you would have never thought possible, when you were in the worst of it). but it feels so strange to be dancing around these odd little microcosms, these patchwork moments of your symptoms. if you have a panic attack at night, you still need to wake up and walk the dog in the morning. if your depression is making everything boring, well, you don't have any sick days left, and a job's not really supposed to be that exciting anyway. your ocd tears out each individual leg hair, and then, an hour later, you sigh, patch up the bloody bits, and go get dinner with friends. and the life is kitten-quiet, mewling and pathetic, but it's also like - it's yours, so you're fond of it.

and it's like - you're real. so you still enjoy pushing the shopping cart really fast and then riding on the back of it down an empty aisle. and you're not, like, so sick anymore that when you accidentally drop a mug you burst into tears (except for the days you do that. which are bad). and no, you're not allowed around certain items anymore. oops! but you've learned to be good about brushing your teeth most days of the week. and yeah sometimes in the middle of the day you have a little freak-out about how fucking unfair it all is, how fucking hard, how other people can just do this without having to fucking hurt the whole time. and then you sigh and force yourself to sit down and fucking journal about it so you can tell the nice middle-aged blonde woman yeah i had a hard day but i practiced grounding. you still sometimes want to burst out of your own skin, but you force yourself to eat kind-of healthy and to take your vitamins. you let yourself chop off all your hair in the sink in a dramatic poetry of control and relief - and you also have developed good hobbies that help you move your body more frequently. you feel helplessly behind, lost in the shuffle - but you also practice gratitude, taking stock of what you have garnered. because you're trying. even if you're never gonna be normal, you have something... close enough.

and the little kitten of your life, this mangy, starlit tigercub, this thing you expected to rot so young: in your arms, it turns itself over, belly-up. exposing this new soft part, all the organs and guts. like it's saying i trust you now. you won't give me up.

#does this even MAKE SENSE!!!!!#writeblr #btw what im trying to express in that first sentence is EXPLICITLY the feeling of logging off therapy to immediately go back to work #like :) haha!

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filmologetica · 3 months ago

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BEHAVIOR — dean winchester

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader.

the one where: you and dean are trying your hardest to have sex but everyone seems to be against it.

warnings: +18. kind of smutty, language, fingering, blue balls king. english is not my first language and it’s 2am here so it might have some incorrect english i plan on checking later.

a/n: this was… something. i’m thinking about a part 2, let me know if you want it <3.

Dean didn’t know if anyone had ever died from blue balls, but if not, he could easily be the first.

Two weeks. It has been two weeks now that Dean and his girlfriend were trying to get some alone time, but it seemed impossible. Every time someone had something they forgot in the room they were heavily making out in and took too long to head out, killing the mood completely, or something urgent to talk to them, or something that needed to be done. Every damn time. And when they finally had time at night they were exhausted, completely worn out.

The tension was growing between them and they just couldn’t help it. They fought for every stupid reason, everything seeing to be extremely frustrating.

“Did you get the milk I asked you to yesterday?” Y/N’s voice was low. She was tired, frustrated and horny. More than that, she was fucking angry with the life she chose. Walking back to back killing monsters was fucking exhausting. She needed a break.

Everyday something new was getting on her nerves. Ghosts, demons, angels and even Lucifer himself. Jesus Christ, she had no more patience for anything.

“Shit, I forgot. Sorry, babe.” Dean was just as exhausted as her, but he was used to this life. What he was not used to was spending fourteen long days with zero sex.

Zero intimacy. Not even a lazy handjob. Of course he could take care of himself but once he was in a relationship - or sort of - he needed to be deep in the woman he craved. And oh, boy, he was craving her. Everything was enough to make his dick wake up and twitch inside his pants.

Every.

Single.

Thing

made him end up with a boner that he wished you would take care of but there was always something in the way.

Fourteen days. And counting.

“Fucking hell, Dean. Is it too much to ask for you to pay attention to the things I tell you?” You snapped, slamming your mug to the counter.

Sam looked up, rolling his eyes knowing very well you two were about to start another pointless argument. Dean wasn’t exactly helping his situation either, as he raised his voice. “If I pay attention to every single thing you talk about every day, there goes my whole day. You never shut up.”

“I’m really sorry. I forgot the only woman you’re capable of listening to are the stupid whores you fuck at every bar we step into.”

“Yeah, at least I can fuck them.”

“Fuck you, Dean.” Your mug was now forgotten in the counter as you marched out of the kitchen, your face red with anger. You knew Dean didn’t mean it. It has been like this for days now, just pointless arguments about nothing.

“Dude, just- Go talk to her.” It was almost like Sam was stuck in a loop all over again. That’s how he felt. He had now lost count of how many times he had said this exact same thing, the exact same way. “I’ll go buy the fucking milk.”

Sam had no idea what was happening. Your relationship with Dean was a secret and that was a deal that you both made until you figured out what it was. Of course sleeping together every night wasn’t exactly nothing but you agreed in taking things slow.

Dean entered your room without even knocking, closing the door behind him with a kick. “I can’t take it anymore, Y/N.” He sighed, letting his body fall in your bed. “I don’t want to keep fighting, I’m sorry. You know I listen to you, it’s just- It’s been too much.”

“It’s ok. I’m sorry about what I said. I just-” Dean looked at her, knowing exactly what she would say. “I miss you.”

“Yeah?” Tracing an invisible line at her exposed leg, Dean was taking his time feeling how soft her skin was.

“Yeah.”

“Mhmm.” His hand was now not so innocent, getting to her thighs still gently. The touch enough to make her shiver. “What are you missing?”

Opening her legs, Y/N exposed her delicate lingerie. It was red, and Dean could feel his mouth water with the sight. Her tiny lace panties were now making him rock hard. He could see your pussy clearly and he was ready to show you how much he missed it. “I miss you right here.” Your hands entered the fabric, touching your clit gently.

“God, I love it when you act like a cock slut.” Lifting your dress a little more, Dean was taking up the view. You never needed much to make him hard, but this was a whole different level. It was like he was drunk on your smell.

“I love it when you fuck me with your fingers.” You said and Dean now moved the fabric to the side, to get a clearer view, chewing on his bottom lip. “It feels so good when you ease me up with one finger because I’m so fucking tight for you…”

And just to make Dean lose his mind, you add one finger to your drabbling pussy. It took to much of him to not roll his eyes and come undone without even taking off his pants. “And when you add another one… God, feels so good, baby.” One more finger in, another growl from Dean out.

“I’m going to fuck you good. Make you remember what it feels like when I’m filling you up.” With your most innocent face you nodded, more like begging Dean to fuck you.

When you felt his lips on yours in an urgent kiss, it felt like you were dreaming. His tongue sliding into your mouth roughly while you ran your fingers through his hair desperately. Now, he was on top of you and you could feel his bulge.

You could feel his cock while his hips trusted into you trying to make him feel better even with his clothes still on. When your hand found his boner, using enough pressure on it, Dean moaned into your lips. “Fuck. I need to be inside you.”

And just when his hands found his belt, a knock was heard on the door. “No!” You cried.

Dean sighed, absolutely frustrated and hiding his face on the crook of your neck. “We can pretend there’s no one here. We put a pillow on your face and you make no sounds while I fuck you.”

You let out a quiet laugh, just as frustrated. “What if it’s important?”

“Y/N, this is important!” Dean was furious. Who wouldn’t be? He refused to add one more day to his blue balls count.

“Open up, guys!” Sam said loudly on the other side of the door.

“What the fuck does this guy want?” Dean got up while you adjusted your dress, trying your best to fix your hair quickly. “Yeah, Sam?”

As Dean opened the door, his face was definitely not friendly but it didn’t scare Sam, who entered the room and sat on the bed.

The bed you thought you were having sex seconds before. “We need to talk about your behavior.” He says.

“My what?” You ask and Dean rolls his eyes, thinking about hitting his head on the door a billion times to end his penalty.

“We’re gonna talk about what’s happening between you and Dean and solve this problem right now.”

“I don’t think that’s something you can fix, Sammy.” You wish you could punch him.

“Well, then I’m not leaving this room.”

And with that, Dean left to take a cold shower in his room after being cockblocked by Sam once again.

#soldier boy #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy imagines #soldier boy x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagines #dean x reader #sam and dean #soldier boy fanfiction #sam winchester imagines #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #supernatural imagines #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural

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pastryfication · 3 months ago

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Hiiiiiiii! Could you maybe write something about how Oscar's girlfriend is a BIG autumn girly and wants to decoeate in August and while he'd usually do whatever she asked, he just can't abide by it so they have a little bit of a bicker about it and reader goes out with friends to shop for fall instead and comes back late. . . To find their apartment all decorated spooky and halloweeny bc Oscar feels bad and hates even the idea that he's disappointed her? Thanks! X

spooky season | oscar piastri

note: hi i’m so sorry this took me absolutely forever to write but i have to admit that i’m not the biggest fan of halloween so it was a bit difficult 😭 but i really hope you like it!!

you wake up on an early august morning, the sun barely peeking through the blinds. oscar is still asleep beside you, his breathing steady and peaceful. you stretch and slide out of bed, your mind already buzzing with excitement. today’s the day.

you’ve been itching to start decorating for autumn for weeks now. the pumpkins, the cinnamon candles, the cozy blankets—all of it just waiting to be brought out. you know it’s early, but august is practically the prelude to autumn, isn’t it? you’ve never been one to wait until the actual season to start celebrating.

you head to the kitchen to make coffee, already thinking about where you’ll start. the mantel could use a new garland, and the front door definitely needs a wreath. your mind is spinning with ideas when you hear oscar shuffling into the room, hair tousled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“morning,” he mumbles, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“morning,” you reply, trying to contain your excitement. “so, i was thinking we could start decorating today. you know, get ahead of it this year.”

oscar’s smile falters a little. “decorating? for autumn? already?”

“yes!” you say, a bit too enthusiastically. “it’s never too early to start. besides, it makes the apartment feel so cozy.”

he scratches the back of his neck, looking a bit unsure. “but it’s still summer, love. we’ve got weeks before it even feels like autumn. maybe we can wait a bit longer?”

you feel a twinge of disappointment, but you try to push it aside. “come on, oscar, just a few things. it’ll be fun, i promise.”

he hesitates, clearly torn. usually, he’d do whatever you asked, no questions. but you can see he’s not exactly thrilled with the idea of pumpkins and skeletons in august. “i don’t know… can we at least wait until september?”

you sigh, a little bummed. “but september’s so far away…”

“it’s just a few weeks, babe. i’m not saying no, just… not yet.”

you know he’s trying to be reasonable, but you can’t help feeling a bit let down. you’d been looking forward to this, and now it feels like a small piece of your excitement is slipping away. but you don’t want to push him if he’s really not into it, so you just nod. “okay. we’ll wait.”

oscar gives you a soft smile and pulls you into a hug. “thank you. i promise we’ll go all out when the time comes.”

you nod against his chest, trying to shake off the disappointment. but as the day goes on, it lingers. it’s not a big deal, you tell yourself. it’s just decorations. but you can’t help the little cloud that’s settled over your mood.

later, you decide to head out with some friends, figuring a bit of shopping might lift your spirits. maybe if you just buy a few small things, it’ll satisfy your craving for autumn without turning the whole apartment upside down. you text oscar to let him know you’ll be out for a while and head off, trying to shake off the lingering frustration.

shopping helps a bit. you find a few cute things—some hand towels with little pumpkins on them, a new mug with a spooky cat, and a cinnamon-scented candle that smells like heaven. by the time you’re done, you’re feeling a little better. still, there’s a part of you that wishes you could just dive into autumn full force, like you always do.

it’s late by the time you get back to the apartment. you unlock the door quietly, not wanting to wake oscar if he’s already gone to bed. but as you step inside, you freeze. the apartment is… different.

pumpkins line the windowsills, the cozy blankets you’d been dreaming about are draped over the couch, and there’s a garland of autumn leaves hanging above the fireplace. even the cinnamon candle you’d just bought is lit on the coffee table, filling the room with that warm, spicy scent you love so much.

you stare, wide-eyed, as oscar emerges from the kitchen, a sheepish smile on his face. “surprise,” he says softly.

“oscar… what is all this?”

he rubs the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “i felt bad. i could tell you were disappointed, and i hate the thought of you being unhappy because of me. so… i figured, why wait?”

your heart swells as you take it all in, the familiar warmth and comfort of autumn wrapping around you like a blanket. you can’t believe he did all this—especially after your little disagreement this morning.

“i can’t believe you did this,” you say, your voice catching a little. “it’s perfect.”

he grins, a little relieved. “yeah? i wasn’t sure if it was too much, but i figured you would want to go all out.”

you laugh, throwing your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. “thank you,” you whisper against his chest.

“anything for you,” he murmurs back, holding you close. “besides, i kind of like it. it’s… cozy.”

you pull back to look at him, a playful smile on your lips. “you know this means we’re doing halloween early, too, right?”

he chuckles, nodding. “i figured as much.”

and as you settle in on the couch, wrapped in one of your new blankets with oscar beside you, you can’t help but think that this is exactly how you wanted to kick off the season. early or not, it’s completely perfect.

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rboooks · 1 year ago

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Child Support Part 2

Tim watched the other young heroes as they tried to look around the watch tower without seeming like they were. He's been here plenty of times, but the rest of the Teen Titans and a few of the Young Justice hasn't.

Much was due to the older heroes leaving the younger ones alone. Some not taking them seriously enough to welcome them at the big HQ as much as that made his blood boil.

They were taking the same risks. They were fighting the same good fights. Why was their age the main reason they weren't treated equally?

Some teenage heroes weren't part of a team per see, but they always answered when a call was sent. For example, Cass and Steph were present, speaking softly to Static Shock. Damian was standing next to Jon and his little friend Colin who was just getting into the swing of the hero business.

Bruce almost bit through his tongue when Damian told him Abuse would be joining Robin on parol, and he could do nothing to stop them. (Tim felt like he was watching Damian tell Bruce a paraphrased version of "But Daddy, I love him!" and it kept him smiling for weeks)

It was wild to see almost every young hero in one place. He doesn't think this happened since the last time Justice Leauge got mind controlled and almost destroyed the whole world.

"Any idea why we're here?" Kon asks to his right, lowering his shade to stare at the Outlaws. Jason's team stood to the side chatting iddly while cleaning over thier weapons.

Kon's always like their punk point of view, and he knows his best friend wants to go over there to talk to them. If it wasn't for the issue of the clone still being mad about what Jason did at the Teen Titans tower. Almost murder was hard to forgive for people outside the Bats.

"None. All I know is that John Constantine sent out a message to every teenage superhero group calling for a meet-up," Tim responds.

Bart whistles with a grimace on his right. "Must be bad if that guy is asking."

"I heard Hawkwoman tell Superman that she was worried and wasn't sure she wanted anyone of us mixed up in Constantine's mistakes." Cassie chimes in from where she leans on the couch. The three turn to her as she lowers her voice, attempting to keep the others from hearing. "Batman told her off for it."

"Batman did?" Tim asks, surprised.

Cassie shrugs, throwing a bit of her blond hair over her shoulder. "As much Batman can emote anyway."

Yeah, that sounded about right. Though it must have been something Bruce found disrespectful. His dad usually never reprimanded strangers unless they were saying something or doing something that sounded far too much like bigotry to him.

But to apply that to Constantine? Someone, Bruce generally disliked communicating with because the man tended to backstab his contacts? Yes, Constantine wasn't evil, but he wasn't pleasant either.

If Bruce had magical issues, he tended to contact Zatanna first.

Just then, the watch tower's zeta beams activate. Everyone who gathered turns to the teleporting pads where Constantine appears looking, for lack of a better word, absolutely exhausted. Even Tim knows that his eye bags aren't that bad, and he's usually going hours without sleep.

"Oh good, you all made it," Constantine says, sipping from a mug and wearing nothing but sweatpants and what looks like a nightgown. His signature trench coat was nowhere in sight. "I'm going to be quick about this. I need a team of young heroes willing to accept my son into their fold."

The room is dead silent. Constantine sighs. "Look, I've tried everything, but it's like Danny is allergic to laying low. He fought with a demon the other day over a child's doll- which you all know happens. People get haunted! But Danny refused to do it the right way, and now I had to beat off the demon's marriage proposal at least ten times. Not to mention his lack of social skills! No matter which one I stick him in, he can't seem to make friends in school. He got shoved into a locker on his first day! I thought that was an American exaggeration of the telly!"

Constantine pauses and takes a large gulp of whatever he's drinking before continuing his rant. A hand runs through his already messy hair, leaving it in bigger disarray as he speaks. "He's behind in terms of trends and technology cause his other father raised him outside of the typical timelines, so sometimes it's like talking to someone from the early two thousand, and other times it's like he's a modern Victorian era lad. His powers are also all over the place because the ectoplasm in our world is thicker, so when he breathes it in, he losses his control. Just the other day he accidentally made himself fly through our ceiling and almost reach the atmosphere before I was able to bring him back down."

A few of the fliers in the room wince. Jon nods and whispers under his breath, though his voice carries in the silence. "Yeah, been there before. Flying can be scary if you don't know how to come down."

Johns glances around at all the young people, eyes showing a tad bit of desperation. "He's sad all the time now, and I don't know how to help. If working with you could help him make friends, I would be grateful. He's a great kid. He just needs to adjust."

Tim had no idea what to do with this information; how do you respond to arguably one of the strongest Justice League Darks' heroes asking for a play date for his son?

"How old is the child?" Damian's voice rings out. Colin's hand is attached to his sleeve, a slightly nervous smile on the boy's face as he attempts to hide from the staring heroes behind his brother. Tim bets that if he wasn't wearing the domino mask, they would be able to see slight tears in Colin's eyes.

Damian's other hand goes across his body to cover Colin's hand, and Tim fights a shit-eating grin. His eyes lock with Jason, and the two send each other knowing grins. Looks like Bruce did have to worry about Damian having a secret boyfriend.

He can't wait to tease Damian later.

"He's fourteen....or well, physically?" Constantine answers eagerly.

"What does that mean?" Kon asks this time.

"Okay, so he's half human, half ecto-being. He sired him with his other father, Clockwork, which was only four years ago in this dimension, but since he was raised in the Infinite Relemas, times move differently there? " The British man says, and Raven goes rigid.

"Clockwork, as in the most powerful Ancient?" She asks, looking horror-struck when Constantine nods.

Before anyone asked what that meant, the zeta tubes activated again without permission. Someone had hacked into their systems which were ten levels bad. Everyone naturally fell into a fighting stance, only to blink when a teenage boy stepped out with a loud excited screech.

"We're in space!" The teenager runs to one of the windows, pressing his hands and face up against the glass. "This is amazing!"

Tim only relaxes his muscles once Constantine clears his throat. "Chum...what are you doing here?"

"Oh. One of your curse rocks things started proposing to me again, so I ran out of the House of Mysteries. Thought I see what you were up to." The teenager says, turning around with a smile and utterly freezing at the sight of the gathered heroes.

He had dark hair, wide blue eyes, and the most adorable face Tim had ever seen. Not as sexy as Bernard, of course, but darn close. Judging by the looks of anyone attractive to males, most heroes thought the same.

"Um...hi?" He says, offering the Godsmack teenagers a helpless little shrug. "I'm Danny Constantine."

"It is a pleasure, Constantine." Damian marches over to him with all his little twelve-year-old authority. He barely reaches Danny's chest. "I shall look forward to working with you. Are you formally trained in combat or strictly magic?"

"Um...oh, I can throw a punch or two? I'm mostly self taught. I rely on my powers a lot?" Danny fumbles to answer throwing a desperate look at his presumed father.

"No matter. I shall have you begin training. My Beloved also needs to work on his form. There is no shame in this" Damian nods, and Constantine lets out a large sigh of relief. He jogs over to place a hand on his son's shoulder, giving him a one-sided hug

"Yes, Danny, you will join Robin, Superboy, and Abuse on missions. They agree to help you settle and get used to your ghost powers." Constantine smiles. "I'll give me time to discourage all those idiots from trying to trick you into marriage."

"Oh...okay. It's nice to meet you all. Please call me Phantom on the field. Um, are you the team leader?" He asks Damian as the three youngest boys lead him further into the watch tower.

Constantine watches them go with the brightest smile he's ever seen on the man's face. He looks back to the group, who were barely starting to pick their jaws off the floor and makes a shooing motion with his hand. "You lot are dismissed."

Then the man vanishes in a green portal.

There is a ringing silence until Barts blurts out. "I'm pretty sure this is where the Phantom Fan Club first formed. A historical moment."

Tim wants to take a nap.

( Part 1 )

#dcxdp crossover #dc x dp crossover #Child Support #Part 2 #John is trying his best #He's fighting off suitors from his son #Despite being very pretty Danny has a hard time making friends #He's the oldest in Damian's new team #I found the ship Damian/Colin the other day and I love it

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feelingbat-ty · 5 months ago

Text

This is inspired by @aflamboyanceofflamingos post about Tim choosing to publicly hate Robin as Tim Drake, cause to love or hate someone is the best way to hide a secret identity.

I started thinking about Tim coming into contact with his teammates as a civilian and Tim using this as an opportunity to take out all the grievances he has for his team in a way, that 1) Won't cause tension and fights. And 2) let him get away with being a petty arsehole, cause it's not like superheros can just go and beat up random civilians.

And well... my hand slipped.

--- You Can't Spell Spite Without Timothy Jackson Drake ---

The amount of times YJ comes across Tim Drake in the wild would be concerning if Tim didn't stalk them as often as his busy schedule allows (which turns out to be quite often). The Beta tube in the Batcave and another secret Beta tube in the bowls of Wayne enterprise's Francisco building allows Tim easy and direct access whenever he so desires.

And well, Tim never did grow out of his stalking phase.

It would be comical - if it wasn't maddening - how often they don't realise he's there. Most of the time he's stalking trailing a member of the team he's not trying to hide his presence, it wouldn't make sense for him to, not as Tim Drake.

The team have a tally board that sits in the common room, it's at 85.

85.

His team's situational awareness is absolutely appalling. 85, they've noticed him only 85 of the hundreds of times he's followed them around?

He complains to Dick about it, a lot. He's hoping Dick will give him some tips on how to beat situational awareness into his teammates thick skulls. He was the leader of the Titans, so he has to have something!

Dick - like the asshole he secretly is - just laughs at him.

He asks Cassie about it once. Why they don't find it concerning that they encounter Tim Drake: famous for being the civilian who 'beat Robin in a fight' every other week?

"I mean, You're usually right about these sorts of things, Rob. If you don't think Drakes an issue, then we trust you."

Tim can't figure out whether to feel warm and giddy at the fact that they apparently trust him, or to be annoyed at the fact that they follow after him like sheep. Not even doing their own research and recon (Cassie probably did. Kon and Bart? Yeah, hell would have a better chance at freezing over).

The first time was a coincidence. Tim had needed some space (from Bruce. From his deadlines. From his own mind...) and ended up wondering the streets of San Francisco with no real destination in mind.

An impulse turn led him onto the boardwalk and from there right to Superboy.

It was a bright and sunny day in Fran and Kon was glowing. Literally, because of the sun and figuratively from pride after he stopped a would-be pick pocket-er from pick pocketing an elderly lady.

He shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't, not when the team know of Tim Drake, know his face and all about how he hates Robin and makes it his whole personality. Not when the only thing that stops them putting Tim Drake on Baby Super villain watch is Tims general blasé attitude about, well... himself.

But is it oh, so tempting.

Especially because the month before, Kon had accidentally smashed Tim's favourite coffee mug in a series of event's (involving a yoga ball, shearing scissors, laser vision and a will from God himself) so convoluted that Tim was convinced it had been orchestrated for a solid week.

Was it a cheap mug from Kmart? Yes, but it's the principle of the matter!

As Tim’s left shoe impacts the side of Superboys face, a sense of manic glee overtakes him. Tim takes special care to seer this memory of Superboy getting hit in the head with Tim's shoe and the stupid face he makes as the ratty converse collides with his cheek, into his brain.

It's not much, but it's justice all the same for his once beloved mug.

Tim... might just be a tad sleep-deprived.

Superboy startles and lets out a frantic “Shit!” Assuming he’s being attacked by a surprise enemy (the kind that isn’t just civilians throwing shoes) he looks around, taking stock of his surroundings and looking for any immediate threats before glancing down at the shoe and visibly doing a double take.

His face is blank as he stares - undoubtably confused - at the shoe. A second later he's lifting his gaze, following the direction the show came from and staring right at Tim.

Tim, who (like an idiot) is still, for some reason, positioned how he was when he threw the shoe - arm outstretched and leg back to brace himself.

There is absolutely no way he wasn't the one who threw the shoe. If the stance didn't give it away, then him having one shoe (that shoe being a near identical ratty rad converse) probably did.

“What?” Superboy asks. He looks befuddled. A little amused, but mostly just confused. He's got a small, polite smile on his face that just reeks of Clark Kent's influence. Kon is obviously trying to model himself off of Superman - specifically Superman's polite and approachable "Grandma pinching worthy" vibe and not his fashion choices, since he's still got the leather jacket and sunglasses.

Tim makes a mental note to tell Kon that he has a really expressive face. Tim is literally reading all his emotions in 4K. They should probably work on that, it could be a liability in the field.

Tim briefly considers playing dumb and acting like it wasn’t him that threw the shoe, before dismissing that idea, Kon can be clueless at times, but he’s not a complete idiot.

So instead, he says, “that was a very open-ended question.”

And well, it was.

At the look Superboy gives him, he elaborates, “What, when said in that context, could mean literally anything! Like, ‘what was the purpose of that?’ ‘What’s your name, so I can in-prison you’ ‘What shoe size was that?’ Seriously, dude, be more specific!”

Superboy’s befuddlement takes a sudden nosedive to incredulity. “Okay, fine. Why did you throw a shoe at me?”

“Cause you work with Robin.” He says simply. He'd say 'justice' but then he'd sound like batman and like, thanks but no thanks.

“Cause I- what? You physically assaulted me with a shoe because I work on the same team as Robin?”

Tim, personally, thinks assault is a strong word to use for this situation, but he’s glad that at least some of his lessons on the proper terms and vocabulary are paying off.

He nods, cause that is indeed what he just did, he crosses his arms across his chest, and stares Superboy down.

Superboy who, looks like he’s regretting everything that led him to this moment. Tim relishes in that for just a little too long to be healthy. Probably.

Tim doesn’t really care. He told Kon (as Robin) that he’d regret breaking Tim’s favourite mug (accident or not, he's still not over it.) yeah, this might not be how either of them envisioned it, but Tim thinks this might just be better than beating Kon up as Robin in their next team training session. What better way to get someone back than to publicly humiliate them in front of all their peers? Shame he can't do that anymore.

Eh, who is he kidding? He’s still going to do that anyway.

“You’re only gonna throw one?” Superboy has a look on his face that’s similar to the one Bruce gets when he’s decided to give up and play along with the crazy. The one where he'll smile and nod, slowly inching out of the room, as Duke and Damian (There has truly never been a more terrifying duo) explain to him in vivid detail how they're going to use psychological warfare to make a shitty teacher at their school resign.

“Yes.” Why’d he throw both his shoes? He’d have no shoes!

“… Right. Why did you throw this one?”

All these questions!

“I like that one the least,” he shrugs, and it's true, the converse on his right foot has a little bi flag that Steph sewed into it back when they were dating. A throw pillow was the closest thing in reach at the time, so he sewed a little pan flag on it for her (he later did one on the breast pocket of one of her denim jackets).

“You are so freakin’ weird, dude! You throw a shoe at me! Because I work with Robin!”

Uh, yeah, we've already established that.

“How did you even get it off that fast!”

To be Honest, Tim is also surprised at how fast he was able to get his shoe off. One second he’s looking at Superboy the next he’s lobbing a shoe at his thick head.

Instead of saying any of that, Tim channels his inner Janet Drake, sticking his nose into the air and scoffing like Kon is the literal gum stuck on the sole of his shoe.

Kon, - because he’s no longer Superboy, he’s too fired up to hold onto the mask - shakes his head. It’s mocking, when he says, “You must be really shitty at throwing a punch if you had to resort to throwing shoes.”

Tim shrugs, “Well, I woulda thrown a fist, but you’re not worth a fist.”

Kon is silent and doing an amazing impression of a blobfish.

Tim turns and struts away before Kon has the chance to come up with a rebuttal, or just decides to punch him in the face.

He’ll grab his shoe later, after Kon leaves.

The basted incinerated his shoe.

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strawbeerossi · 1 year ago

Text

Competition

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You’re the new genius on campus. Spencer doesn’t like that one bit. Whenever there is a poker competition for charity held by the FBI, it only makes sense that you are both coming for each other’s necks.

Content/Warnings: Snarky!Spencer and snarky!reader, gambling, two characters are just alike so they hate each other trope, sex in a bathroom, finger sucking, unprotected sex, creampie.

I have no knowledge on poker. Sorry 😭

Word Count: 2.3K

Anon Request: You don’t have to do this but it’s my birthday on sunday (5th Nov) and i was wondering if you could do a Spencer one-shot. Maybe a little enemies to lovers sitch. smutty ofc 😉😉😉😉

Navigation || Criminal Minds Masterlist || Request

Happy birthday Anon 😘🎂

🏷️ @kr-1-sta @iluvreid @nervousmoongiver @multifandom-on-the-side @ferrjulie @lov1ngreid @sobbingcryingattsizzles @doriantomybasil @thegluesong @rosiehale23 @queermaxwooo @rubyatarah @smallgayandnotokay @Princesskuzimu

Spencer wasn’t a jealous guy by any means, nor was he the type to be so self absorbed that he could care about someone’s opinion of him changing. As cocky as it sounded, he knew that he was going to always be the person on the team with the most knowledge on any given subject. That was until you joined the team.

You rivalled him in the academic department, having an IQ of 187. You didn’t have the eidetic memory though, so Spencer liked to think he could one up you in that department. You might have been good with any form of maths or science, however you didn’t hold a candle to the amount of vast knowledge that he carried in his memory alone.

Your first day on the team determined your relationship, you getting angry at the way he would so quickly talk over you when a question was being asked. You came into this job excited, wanting to spend time with the whole group that seemed so close knit from an outside perspective. Instead, you were met with an immature imbecile who really thought you’d allow him to speak over you.

As weeks turned into months, things didn’t seem to change. You wouldn’t dare admit it but it did upset you just a tiny bit that he never actually gave you a chance. Ever since you spouted off your first contribution to a briefing, it was like he had to upstage you. Instead of discussing things like mature adults however, you both gave each other the most childish treatment. In your mind, he deserved it. He foolishly believed he was better than you for what reason? Was it because he was threatened that a woman came in to take over his genius position? Was he jealous of all the attention the team paid you without an eye roll, the opposite of what they did for him? You’d never know.

Whenever there was a poker competition that was brought up by the director of the FBI, it was a silly idea to want to gamble all night. Even for charity, you would rather just donate to the cause and go home to read a good book and have a tall glass of red wine. “Are you going to participate in the big game?” You had asked as you leaned against the counter in the kitchenette, a cup of coffee in your hand as you were talking with Penelope, Derek and Emily. “I might go just to support the charity. Nobody is gonna win whenever Reid is there. That guy is..” Penelope whistled while sipping from her own mug. “What do you mean? Him?” Derek was chuckling at your disbelief. “Poker is just a big math equation to him. He grew up in Vegas and can count cards. Nobody stands a chance against him. Not even you, mama.”

The words had you frowning. “I think I could kick his ass with no problem.” Emily was scoffing at your confidence. “Sure you will. I’m telling you, this isn’t something you wanna get into with him. Especially when betting is involved. He’s gonna get you, every single time.” You weren’t buying that. There was no way that these abilities couldn’t be outsmarted. Spencer wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. You were going to prove that.

When the day finally came along, you were paying for your ticket at the door before heading inside the large venue the FBI director had rented out, mainly to make sure that it was possible to fit all the agents and other people who purchased tickets for the poker tournament. You’d worn a black dress for the event, wanting to use your prized assets (wink) to take care of the men who were easy to distract. You’d made it to one of the many tables set up and placed your clutch beside you on the table, the chips you’d already purchased being stacked up in front of you while you waited for the table to fill.

Spencer had seen you the minute he came in and he knew where he needed to be for the night. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t completely hate your guts. He always thought he would’ve liked you, however with you puffing out your chest and trying to take over his position on the team, he wouldn’t just lay down and take it. He fought back, anyone would. “Good evening.” He greeted you, making your eyes roll at his formality. “Hello, Reid.” You spoke in a monotone voice while resting your chin against the palm of your hand. You were just happy he willingly signed himself up for defeat whenever he sat beside you. This was a war that you intended to win.

Derek and Emily were funnily enough the two that day at the same table in order to get your game kicked off. As the cards were being dealt, you were confident. A flush. That’s not so bad. Luck was on your side, all you had to do was have a good poker face. As your eyes darted around the table, you were only raising an eyebrow once you made it to Spencer. He was staring at you so hard that you felt like he could see right through you. He was trying to read you. Another reason to keep a straight face as you return the questioning stares. “I’ll raise 20.” Spencer spoke, words slow and calculated as he tossed his chips in the middle of the table. “I’m folding.” Emily huffed, cards being put down on the table as she brought a hand to rub her face from frustration. “I’m calling.” You hummed while glancing over at Derek, who’d done the same.

With a straight from Derek, a flush from you, and a fucking royal flush from Spencer, you could feel your eye twitching. There was no way. He looked as cocky as ever, a smirk on his face as he was leaning over to get the chips. “Shall we go for another game?” He asked, making Emily nudge your side. “I told you.” She hissed. Maybe she was right. No! No, she’s not. You’re gonna do this even if it’s the last thing you do.

As the games continued, the tension between you and Spencer had grown much stronger from just how competitive you were being with one another. He was single handedly leaving you with nothing every play so far, causing you to run low on chips.

It was the last game whenever you had enough, pushing every chip in the middle of the table. “Fuck you, I’m all in.” You frowned, Derek and Emily pushing their own chips in just to end this whole thing sooner rather than later. “All in? That’s so foolish.” Spencer scoffed, however it didn’t stop him from adding his massive collection of poker chips to the pot. “I think you should’ve learned by now that I’m going to take this home.” He said, his tone cocky as he was looking over the new cards that were being passed around the table.

“I just wanna get another drink.” Emily muttered her own commentary to Derek, who nodded in agreement. “I know exactly what you mean.” He grumbled in return. This game had lost the fun nature of it whenever you and Spencer were too focused on one-upping one another.

You had the last laugh though, the look on Spencer’s face the moment that he realized you had a straight flush when he only had one pair was something you wanted photographed and framed. “Well. I don’t mean to brag Dr. Reid, but I just beat the best card counter in Vegas!” You smirked, leaning over the table to use your arms to scoop the chips close. Now, the way you leaned over the table gave a nice, tasteful view of your breasts threatening to spill over the neckline of your dress. “And that’s the game. Sorry.” You hummed, watching the way Spencer stared at you, a fire behind his eyes as he glared at you. “You got lucky! That’s all. You really think you can beat me when I’m not at my best?”

“That’s all the time, Spencer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have chips to redeem.” You smirk, stacking them on the little tray before heading off. Which after you’d redeemed your winnings, you were walking off to the bathrooms. Spencer was still bitter, last you seen of him was him storming off to go god knows where. Whenever you had finished doing your business and you were washing your hands, your eyes were glancing up when the door was being pushed open. Whenever you saw the same agent who was still looking at you like he wanted to ring your throat, you couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. “This is the woman’s bathroom, Reid. What are you? A pervert?” You asked, staring over at him with amusement.

Although amusement turned to confusion when he was turning the lock on the door. “You know. I’m tired of your problem with me. You really think you’re better than me?” Spencer asked, walking closer. “Is that really a question?” You asked. Every ounce of cockiness was gone though whenever he had you trapped against the counter of the bathroom. “You really do. I think you need to be humbled. Nobody likes a cocky brat.” He huffed, making you scoff. “What are you gonna do? Huh? Gonna lecture me with your useless and boring facts like you always do? If anyone needs to be humbled, it’s you.” You seethed.

What Spencer did next caught you by surprise. The feeling of your teeth clashing together was felt immediately after as he was slamming his lips into yours. It wasn’t a soft ‘ease your way in’ kind of kiss. No. This was an angry ‘you need to learn a lesson’ kiss. You were dumbfounded. It didn’t stop you from returning the kiss that was dripping with rage and desire, your arms around his shoulders as your body leaned into his frame. “Always thing you’re better than me.” He murmured against your lips, his hands moving from your hips to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze as he was gently lifting you up to sit you on the counter. His lips were pulling from yours as he was sliding his hands up the black dress you wore tonight, his hands finding their way to your panties. Instead of taking them off though, your eyes were widening when you heard the sound of fabric tearing. “What the fuck?!” The words were in a high pitched squeak, Spencer shrugging as he was getting the ruined underwear. “You don’t need them. You like the attention anyway. I’m sure you’d like to bend over a table and show the whole place your pussy anyway.” He murmured, hand already working on his belt.

You shouldn’t have been as wet as you were. This was Spencer. Annoying, rambling, stupidly smart Spencer. The same guy who talked over you, who treated you like you weren’t a valued team member. Yet here you were, sitting on a bathroom counter at a convention center while the same man you despised was pulling his hard cock out of his slacks. “Who knows, maybe this will calm you down. In fact, I think it’ll get all that pent up anger and frustration out, I’m sure.” His tone was condescending, much different than you’d expect from the sweet Spencer Reid persona that he carried.

“Shut the fuck up.” You spat, making the male shake his head. “See? Brat.” He murmured, now pushing your thighs apart while guiding the leaking tip of his shaft to your entrance. “Let’s teach you a lesson.” One of your hands was gripping onto his shoulder, the other clutching the marble countertop as you let your head lean against the mirror in the bathroom the minute his cock was sinking inside of you. “F-fuck.”

“Who knew that this would shut you up?” He asked with a smirk, his eyebrow raising. “Maybe I should’ve done this sooner. Think you secretly love the idea of me fucking you like this. Bet it’s all you’ve ever dreamed of.” He continued to taunt, rendering you speechless for the first time ever. As he fucked into your pussy, his hand was ultimately covering your mouth from your loud moans. “As much as I’d love for everyone to know that I’m doing this, I don’t think we need to alert the whole building.” He mumbled through clenched teeth, ultimately shoving two fingers in your mouth in order to muffle everything without having to completely cover half of your face.

“I’m gonna cum soon.” He warned, knowing that just by the feeling of your inner walls spasming and clenching tight around him, you weren’t far behind. “Fuck. What if I fill you up with my cum? Get you pregnant? Then I could have the satisfaction of knowing that you’re never gonna get rid of me. Gonna have my child inside of you, keeping a piece of me right there with you.” His words had your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let your legs tighten around his waist from his sloppy thrusts. With a rush of white making your body run hot, you were clutching his shoulder as you’d reached your orgasm, the creamy arousal coating his cock as he was giving a few more thrusts before the gush of hot cum was painting your insides.

You were both flushed, beads of sweat on your skin as you stared at one another. Spencer was gently pulling his fingers from your mouth while brushing his hair back with one hand. “Can you stop trying to compete with me now?! I’m so tired of this.” He grumbled, making you scoff weakly as you were closing your eyes to help come down from your post orgasmic high.

“Not if you’re gonna fuck me like that every time I do it. I think we should go play another game.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 16 days ago

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A Touch of Sweetness 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Loki Laufeyson

Sister series to mob!Thor

Summary: you make a new friend, but that's not all. (short reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“So I thought we could go berry picking,” you suggest. “I saw it on the news. They’re going to be having a whole strawberry fest on this farm--”

Estelle, Candy, and Jada sit at the table with you, sipping their fancy lattes as you nurse a hot chocolate. Caffeine always makes you so jumpy. Still, you could’ve got a tea and felt a little less childish. They always tend to make you feel a bit simple. Especially your sister, Jada.

“Oh, look who just walked in,” Estelle raises her filled in brows.

Candy cranes next to you and turns back with a gasp. You peer over your shoulder and see the large blond man as he joins the queue, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets casually. You squint as the person in front of him peeks back and moves frantically out of his way. You’re curious as the line scatters before him and he steps up to the counter without wait.

You face the table again as the girls gape, “about the berries...” you begin.

“Oh be quiet. You’re always talking about such stupid things,” Jada says. “What do you think he’s doing here?”

“Well, he can go wherever he wants, can’t he?” Estelle intones.

You don’t get the big deal. That man is huge, sure, but why are they so concerned.

“It’s not stupid,” you argue. “We can bake after--”

“Oh my god, grow up,” Candy barks. “Look at him...”

You harrumph. You were nice enough to buy their drinks and once again, you’re pushed into the corner. You’re a nice person but they make you have un-nice thoughts.

“Who cares?” You pout.

“Whatever. Don’t be a baby because no one wants to go to a farm and get attacked by bees,” Jada snips.

“Fine, I’ll go alone,” you stand and gather up your bag and cup.

“Please, do.” Your sister chirps.

“Ha, you are always so dramatic,” Candy cackles.

You feel like crying. They’re always laughing at you. You tell your parents as much but they just come back with the same old excuse. ‘She’s your sister.’

Yes, well you’re an adult and so is Jada and she doesn’t need to be such a bully. You go up to the counter to hand over your used mug to the barista.

“Thank you, it was very good,” you say. “Is it real cocoa?”

“Um, I think so,” the girl behind the counter says. “Have a good day.”

“You too,” you smile. Well, you don’t feel so bad now.

You turn and head for the door. As you get there, that big blond man does too. He’s right ahead of you. And aware of you. He pulls the door inward and nods you outside. He has a bright pink box under his arm with the cafe’s logo on it.

“Oh, thank you,” you duck your head and scurry out, sending one last look to your sister and her friends as they squint back at you. No, not at you, at that man.

As you step outside, so does he.

“Excuse me,” he calls after you before you can flee back home to mope.

“Yes,” you stop and spin back so your ankles twist.

“I suppose it’s not my place but I overheard you talking about berry picking? It sounds like a fun time and my... partner, she’s in need of distraction. Would you be able to tell me exactly where I can find this farm?” He asks.

You’re shocked. He must have very good hearing. Or maybe you really are dramatic.

You smile. His voice is deep and warm. Cozy, just like his beard.

“Yes, it’s called Ulster’s Ridge,” you explain. “I’m not sure where exactly, I haven’t looked it up, but it’s all next week.”

“Mm,” he nods thoughtfully. “It seems you don’t have anyone to go with.”

“You... heard all that?” You look away bashfully.

“Not very nice. Those are friends?” He wonders.

“My sister. They’re her friends. Not mine, I guess,” you bat your lashes at the admittance stings in your eyes. “I’ll go by myself.”

“That’s brave but if it isn’t too forward, my partner, she could use a friend. I’m not sure she’d like to be stuck with only me much longer.” He laughs lightly, “I’m afraid I can be a bit much myself.”

“Oh, I... if she doesn’t mind, I guess,” you say. “I wouldn’t want to crash a date.”

“Not at all,” he insists. “Might I have a name to give her? I don’t think she’d handle a ‘I met a strange woman today and chatted her up’ without more detail.”

You giggle. He’s funny. “Sure,” you give your name.

“Ah, lovely,” he praises. “My name is Thor. Odinson.”

“It’s nice to meet--” you raise your hand and pause as the name strikes a familiar chord. Oh. Thor. When you pictured the infamous mafioso, you didn’t imagine a teddy bear of a man.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” he grins and shakes your hand, his large one swallowing it up. “I promise, I’m not so vicious as they say I am. And how could anyone be so to a sweetheart like you?”

“I... thanks, sir,” you say.

“Thor, please. Only my men call me sir,” he squeezes and lets go of your hand. “I will see you for berry picking.” He takes his phone out. “I only need your number and I will have my lady choose a date.”

“Oh, sure,” you accept his cell with a slight tremble.

You bow your head as you focus on entering your number. You sense movement nearby and turn your head to the cafe window. You only realise then you’re standing right in front of your sister’s table.

You sniff and hand the phone back with a smile, “thanks. I can’t wait.”

“I look forward to it,” he says. He gets closer and leans in, “I know family can be tough. Don’t let your sister dull your shine, sweetness.” He winks and sidesteps you, “I hope your day gets brighter, little one.”

“You too, Mr. Odinson,” you call after him and wave.

“Thor,” he booms back over his shoulder as he struts away.

You turn to look at your sister. Her and the others look gobsmacked. You smile wide and drop your hand. You don’t need them. More berries for you and your new friend. Whoever she is.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #thor #series #drabble #au #mob au #mcu #marvel #avengers

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musingsofahufflepuff · 8 months ago

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Into the Blackhole

Theodore Nott x gn!reader; fluff

summary: when it all just gets too much, there’s one place you can always find theodore nott, a secluded corner on the second floor of the three broomsticks

a/n: hogmarch prompt 2. it’s apparently my goal to be the last submission for all of these, sorry @thatdammchickennugget (it’s technically still the 13th). i went with the butterbeer approach and this pure fluff. lots of friends to lovers in my submissions, whoops. guess the trope is on the brain

Bad week. That’s the only way you could describe your current mood. Between the long ass essay Snape had assigned with only 2 days to complete and the howler you’d received from your parents about something that wasn’t even a big deal you needed a break away from the castle.

So here you were on your way to the Three Broomsticks. The path to Hogsmeade is familiar and the fresh air is already starting to improve your mood. With the sun setting soon, there’s a comforting light casted on the village.

The old wooden doors to the pub creak when you open them and it’s relatively quiet for a Friday evening. You decide to make your way up to your usual table to relax a bit before getting a drink. At the top of the stairs you find Theodore Nott already sitting there. A smile spreads across your face.

He looks like his week was just as bad as yours as you slide into the seat next to him. His blue eyes look up to meet yours when you sit down and his expression is immediately softer. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart flutter.

“Bad week?” you ask.

Theo sighs and nods, “why else would I be here. Assuming that’s why you’re here too.”

You laugh softly at that, he wasn’t wrong. Since your first trip to Hogsmeade third year, you and Theo had decided this was the best spot in the village to get away from everything. You’d spent many a night here with and without him, and you couldn’t help but feel glad he was with you this time.

“Want something? I was about to go get a drink when you came up,” he stands from the table, eyes still on you.

“Sure, that’d be great.”

He gives you a nod before heading down the stairs, leaving the seat empty and a hole in your heart.

So, maybe you had a small crush on your friend. Maybe.

♡ ♡ ♡

His footsteps returning pull you out of your thoughts. He sets a cold butterbeer down in from of you and you give him an appreciative smile.

“I know you don’t like warm drinks, as weird as that is,” he teases as he sits back down with his hot butterbeer in hand.

“I’m not arguing about this with you again, Nott,” you tease right back.

He holds his hands up in surrender, which makes you both laugh.

There’s a comfortable silence as you sip on your butterbeer and you steal a few glances at him.

“Wanna talk about it?” his voice surprises you, making you snap your attention to him.

“Just a rough week,” you blink a couple times, trying to think of what to say.

“Yeah, my fathers been, persistent in the whole… mark thing.” He looks down at his mug.

“Oh, Theo, I-“ without thinking about it, you get up and hug him.

He tenses up for a moment at the unexpected touch, but easily melts into your embrace. You don’t ask anything else, you don’t need to. He turns in his seat to make it easier to hug him, his strong arms coming up around your waist.

“Thank you tesorino. I guess I wanted to talk about it, but my friends…” he trails off and you immediately understand. They’ve gone through similar if not worse, it can be too much.

“I’m always here for you Teddy,” the nickname slips past your lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world and you try not to blush at the Italian term of endearment.

“I know you are and-“ he hesitates, “I think that’s why I’m falling in love with you.” The second half comes out quieter, like he’s scared of your response. “Actually, I’ve liked you for a long time.”

His blue eyes meet yours and it feels like it’s just the two of you here in the Three Broomsticks.

Just the two of you in all the universe.

He blushes, “sorry, not great timing on my part.”

“No!” you blurt out, “I’ve had a crush on you forever. Since we met first year.”

Theo looks a little shocked, but it’s quickly replaced with a smile and you melt.

“Wanna maybe turn this pity party into uh- a date maybe?”

You laugh softly, which makes him join you.

“Sure, I’d love nothing more.” You sit back down in your seat, in your and Theodore’s table and you can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face.

“But first, another butterbeer?” he smiles and you happily nod.

#theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #slytherin boys #harry potter #hogmarch challenge #theo nott #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #hp fandom #theo nott x male reader #theo nott x gn reader

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kyokutsu-sama · 9 months ago

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_____________________________

The captain's sword

A/n: I've been writing about this man on ao3, I've already posted two works there and I'll post this one there later. This captain makes me feel things🤭(Seriously bro, there's something about men with tough personalities that attracts me...)

Tw: NSFW content

_____________________________

You wondered how you had managed to get to the base without falling along the way due to exhaustion. Your mana was extinct as was your energy, all you wanted to do at that moment was pass out on your soft mattress and sleep for the whole week but it seems that you had other plans before going to sleep.

You saw Yami at the counter and wanted to kill him after he sent you on a mission that almost cost you your life.

"There you are, you scoundrel !" You said, approaching the counter. "You were drinking and smoking while I was there dying, weren't you?"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and an unfriendly expression on his face, as if he wanted to intimidate you but you were too mad to be afraid

"With my stupid captain, Yami Sukehiro" You said, sitting next to him and he looked at you for a long moment in silence, the cigarette smoke leaving his lips after he took a long sigh. He undoubtedly liked your defiant air when you dared to speak like that, strong women were his type and he was definitely going to play that game.

"Your tongue is very sharp tonight, I see" He slightly curved his lips upwards

"I thought you liked tough girls with sharp tongues. What's the problem now? Can't you handle them?" You teased and he closed his eyes with another long sigh

"Here, drink" He said, extending the large mug of beer to you

"You didn’t answer my question"

"Drink" He insisted and since you knew he was stubborn, you decided to do what he said

There was no one else there, you thought it was strange since they would also like to be there drinking or breaking everything but maybe they were already asleep. It was late and you were supposed to be sleeping too but since your dear captain was there, you weren't just going to turn your back on him. He enjoyed your company even if you were mad at him and you also couldn't ignore him when he was offering you drinks and company too.

Anyone who didn't know him at that moment would think he was a calm person, with half-closed eyes, a lit cigarette in the corner of his mouth, some strands of his black hair falling over his face making him even more attractive and an expressionless face. However, he was not someone to mess with and everyone there knew it. You also knew and that's why you pushed his buttons until he lost his patience, which was little and led him to do crazy things. He also did the same to you, teasing you every day until you went crazy. Deep down you knew he has a tender heart when it comes to you, even if he teases you twenty-four hours, even if he gives you more difficult training because he believes in you and your abilities and that you can surpass your limits, even though he was a stubborn and short-tempered at times, you loved him with all his flaws. You knew that inside his little heart was you and he himself admitted that to you a lot of times.

You placed the empty mug on the table and looked at him, who still seemed focused on a random corner of the room.

"I finished drinking, are you going to answer me now?" You said, looking at him

"Drink another one"He replied, taking a drag on his cigarette, still without looking at you

"Yami, are you testing my patience ?" You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head slightly to the side

"You're the one testing my patience, princess. Did the mission go well or do I need to go in there and take out the other guy for you?”

"No, I already did what had to be done, I even broke the sword you gave me last week"

"You broke what?" He looked at you as you placed the remaining part of the sword on the table. "Honey, I hadn't even finished paying, in fact, I didn't even pay mine, let alone yours"

“Well, Yami, it looks like you're going to have to start saving more money instead of betting everything on gambling like you always do, even with your clothes” You looked away in the last words, remembering when he came back from long nights completely naked after having bet them on gambling

“So what? My nudity is nothing new to others... and not to you either" He gave a little smile and you felt a slight blush on your cheeks."Now, regarding the sword, leave it to me. I'll see if I can find some money to pay this shit for the next hundred years"

"And see if the next one is of quality"

"It's not about quality when you don't know how to wield it"

"What did you say, Yami?" You looked at him with a threatening look

"Nothing" He said, raising hands in a kind of surrender

"See? You don't even have the balls to repeat what you said to my face, it just proves that you can't handle a strong woman like me" You teased and got up from the bench but he grabbed your arm turning you towards him

"Princess, you're making me lose my mind with all that tough personality. Come here" He picked you up and put you on his shoulder so easily and quickly that you make you scream at his sudden movement

"Yami, what are you doin--" He slapped your butt as he carried you to his room."Are you punishing me now?”

“And it’s just the beginning, baby" He laughed and entered the bedroom

He threw you on the bed and closed the door, you looked at him as he put out his cigarette and looked you up and down, wondering where he would start.

"Why are you looking at me? I thought you were a man of action"

"Be quiet brat, I'm concentrating" He said as he took off his tattered black cape and shirt.

"Brat? What happened to ‘princess’?"

"They will evolve for worse if you keep talking" He said climbing onto the bed and holding your face in his hand

Yes, it would, you knew it would. The beautiful nicknames he gave in the beginning would be the future dirty talk. It was only making the heat in the room rise as well as the heat building up between your thighs. However, he also had to be punished for the mission he had given you and you would take care of it.

"What’s wrong? Why aren't you laughing now?" He asked with a low voice close to your face and you blushed

He would tease you until the end, until you couldn't handle it anymore, take you to the limits and even beyond that. That was his type.

He pushed you onto the mattress and got on top of you, removing your clothes and you helped him, his strong and hurried hands roaming your body. He leaned towards you and kissed your lips, taking your breath away with heat and strength, you hugged him close to you, taking your hands to run down his back. His hand slid between your thighs and stroked the wetness that increased the more he touched you, he pulled your lip between his teeth before settling on your neck and sucking the skin there. You could already feel your sweaty skin and slight goosebumps, you whimpered when he placed his fingers in you and you tight them inside you. The ability that man had to make you forget that you were mad at him moments ago was impressive. You arched your back and both bodies touched, there was no distance between the two and you were delirious with so much proximity. You put a hand to the back of his head, he was still marking your skin and tasting every bit of it.

The fingers moving in and out and scissoring, opening more space inside you as you writhed and moaned beneath his huge body covering yours. His thumb brushing against the sensitive bud and sending shivers throughout your body, making your legs tremble. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure just at the feeling of his lips kissing your neck. You were close but you held yourself back so you didn't have to come before you could take control of the situation and play with him a little too. You grabbed his forearm and removed his fingers from you and turned him around, sitting on top of him, resting your hands on his chest while he looked at you, intrigued that you had changed roles.

"You're feeling very confident today" He joked, placing his hands on your waist

"My turn to punish you for giving me such a troublesome mission today" You said taking the belt off his pants to tie his wrists above his head, to prevent him from touching you

"You don't think this will last long, do you?" He chuckled, looking at you and you smiled

"No, but I just need some time for what I'm going to do. Don't worry dear, I'll be gentle with you" You leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips

You knew that he would go along with it because deep down he liked having you on top showing your strength, that turned him on.

You held the waistband of his pants and removed them. You had the beautiful vision of him all naked and with his arms tied above his head and that only made things heat up more. You brought a hand to his dick, stroking it while you looked at him and saw his hands start to fight to free himself, he just wanted you to continue what you were doing because it felt too good.

You spat into the palm of your hand to make back and forth movements as you felt your insides tighten with emptiness and the desire to take him right there but you liked the idea of just watching him suffer a little. Not that he was suffering from your touch but rather the fact that he wanted to grab your hips and bury himself inside you.

"What's wrong, Yami? I can't see your smile right now" You teased, using his words and he bit his lip, seeing the way you were teasing him

"You're a teaser"He said with a hoarse voice and his eyes half-open

Your hand moved faster around him, his hands fought to free themselves again, you weren't sure if he was closer to coming or letting go from the belt and making you pay for it.

He was right when he said that it wouldn't last long, and besides, he wouldn't need to try very hard to get out of that knot.

And it was when you least expected it that one of his hands was already on your wrist, preventing you from doing anything else, you looked at him after being taken by surprise.

He turned you around and placed you under him on the mattress and pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, looking at your panting and flushed face.

It seems like you would have to leave your revenge for another day.

"You found a way to surpass your limits again, did you?" You smiled and he chuckled

"You make me surpass them"

"Good to kno---" You barely finished your sentence and he turned your back to him and lifted your hips up. All that desire of his was making him impatient and with little time for conversation.

"You talk too much" His hand rested on the red skin after slapping your butt. "Just watch me surpass my limits again"

He was quick to place himself inside you and fill your insides to the deepest point, your fingers grabbed the sheets in front of you and your moans were muffled against it.

“You're so tight right now, Y/n”He sighed heavily."Don't tell me you were thinking about me while you were there fighting?"

He placed one hand on the back of your head, keeping your head against the mattress and the other hand on the headboard as he sped up his thrusts. You could barely breathe at that moment, even if you wanted to lean your head back, his strong hand was pressing you and the only thing you could do was feel your legs tremble and whimper every time his body collided against yours. The others would probably hear all those dirty sounds coming from the room but you wouldn't believe that any of them would be stupid enough to complain about it out loud, unless they wanted to move up the date of their death. He removed one hand from the back of your neck and brought it to your clit to make circular movements that made you tighten more and more around him. You felt the butterflies in your stomach intensifying when you came, your legs weakened and your fingers were still holding the sheets with some strength as he filled you with his cum, until you felt it running down your thighs. He withdrew from you and pulled your body back so that you were leaning against his chest, he bent down and kissed your neck while his arms hugged your body from behind making you feel protected from everything.

He could have all that size and be a brute, but he always seemed so clingy and careful with you. It was as if you changed his personality for something different, not very different but at least it softened this man's little heart a little.

"I'm sorry Y/n, I won't let you go on a mission like that alone again." He said kissing the top of your head and tightening his arms around you

"And I think I should also apologize for breaking the sword.”

"Don't worry about it, I'll find another one. Even if it means not seeing my paycheck for months or probably years." He said, laughing

#black clover #black clover fandom #yami sukehiro #yami sukehiro x reader #smut writing #fics #fluff #He's the one #The way I could write about him for the rest of my life...😫

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gojos-thot-patrol · 1 year ago

Text

Otherwise known as Seven Minuets in Heaven Part. 2 ;)

Find Part One Here!

Dating isn't easy, and falling in love is even harder. Ryomens love for you isn't up for debate, you're the only girl he's ever felt this way about. What is questionable though is if he's ready to leave his playboy life for you. Were diving back into the Modern Day Frat Boy AU

Warning: This fic contains smut, fingering, cunnilingus, a creampie- you know the drill, as well as Hurt/Comfort, possessive themes (especially in the smut), yandere themes if you squint, and a very much unwanted kiss. Reader discretion is advised <3

It’s surreal just how many times a heart can break before it shatters. How many times you can watch your boyfriend, who swore oh so many times that you were his one and only, flirt with truly breath taking girls before you finally snap. How many times you can accept the unacceptable before it feels like a full body breakdown, before you’re hiding in your room, crying into his hoodie because despite everything he was still so comforting to your stupid heart that still hadn’t caught up with your brain in terms of relationship status.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. This story technically starts four months ago, and about a week after your first personal encounter with Ryomen Sukuna.

“Hey man, are you gonna eat that?” Gojo asked, pointing to Ryomens waffle. Sukuna barely looked up from his phone before pushing the plate over to the white haired man, who took it greedily. The act caught the attention of group empath (derogatory) Suguru Geto, who raised an eyebrow at Ryomen from the other side of his coffee cup.

“You feelin’ ok man?” He asked, setting the mug down.

“She still hasn’t responded to my text, but she read it. Is this what getting ghosted feels like?” Ryomen asked, finally looking up from his phone, “This shit blows, why do I keep doing it to people?”

“Because you’re a creep.” Nanami said without thinking from behind his book, ignoring the glare from both Suguru and Sukuna.

“Is this about the girl from the party?” Geto questioned, failing horribly to hide his genuine shock. “You haven’t moved on yet?”

“Can’t blame him, she was hot as fuck.” Gojo pointed out, not even bothering to swallow the food in his mouth. A move that would backfire when Suguru hit his back, causing him to choke.

“It’s not for a lack of trying!” Ryomen said, pointedly ignoring Satoru, “Trust me, I have. I even tried hooking up with that one girl from the Kappa Phi Beta sorority, fucking....” He snapped his fingers to try and remember her name, “Yuki? I think?”

“And?” Gojo asked.

“I couldn't go through with it!” He snapped, more in frustrated with himself than anything else, “I felt like…wrong about it, like dirty. I faked a stomachache to get her to go home.”

“Uh huh.” Suguru said, sharing a concerned glance with Gojo. “Go on.”

“The whole time I was just thinking about Y/n.” He sighed, now earning Nanamis attention too, “About what she would think, and what if she finds out and it hurts her, I just…I couldn't do that.” Ryomen grumbled, resting his cheek on the table. It felt good to vent. Until he realized all three of his friends were looking at him as if he had just grown a second set of arms and two more eyes. “What?” He asked.

“Ryomen…” Suguru started slowly, trying to think of how to put this gently, “You…are a fucking moron.”

“Poor bastard..” Nanami muttered, shaking his head.

“This bitch got his dick wet once and fell in love.” Satoru laughed. Ryomens entire soul flinched at the suggestion, and panicked at the notion it could be right.

“No, absolutely not, that’s insane.” He insisted, sitting back up. “I’ve known her for like, a week! Who falls in love in a week?!” Frat boys in fan fiction, thats who.

“Then why are you getting so caught up in the fact she hasn’t texted you back?” Suguru asked. This was not helping Ryomens panic.

“Because it’s weird! Normally girls text me back immediately.”

“Right, so why does it matter so much that this one hasn’t?”

“Because…because!-”

“Because you’re in love.” Gojo giggled.

“Say that one more time Satoru and I’ll put Nair in your shampoo bottle.” Sukuna threatened. Satoru was suddenly very quiet.

“You still haven't answered the question,” Geto reminded him.

“It’s because I don’t want the other girls to text me back! I want her to! I want her attention, I want to talk to her, I want- Oh god damn it.” His ramblings turned into a near whine as he dropped his head into his hands at the realization. Suguru patted his back, trying to be comforting.

“It’s okay man, it happens to the best of us.” He assured him. He handed him his coffee cup, “Here, try this. It might help.” Ryomen had no fucking clue how black coffee was supposed to help, so of course he had to try it. The moment it hit his tongue he realized why it was supposed to help, almost spitting the drink out at the shock of the flavor. That wasn’t coffee. He looked up at who claimed to be the responsible one.

“Fucking Kahlua?” He asked. Geto shrugged.

“Technically its a black russian, so some vodka too.”

“Suguru It’s seven am.”

♥️♥️♥️

Two weeks after that conversation, you still hadn’t left that poor fools mind. "Either I didn't hear you right or you've picked up a coke habit." You scoffed. He shook his head.

"Nah, coke's a rich person drug. A lowly college student like me can only afford crack."

"They're the same thing, different forms."

"Tell that to the law." He shrugged. You dropped the argument there, knowing he had a point. You just rolled your eyes.

"Then I must not have heard you correctly." You groaned, "why are you inviting me to go fuck at your dorm at," you checked your phone, "8:17 AM?" He grinned and you wanted to punch him in the face. That grin never failed to make your heart flutter and squeal and want to marry him. Stupid fucking heart.

"I never said hook up, I asked if you wanted to go on a date.” Ryomen clarified, “Like, to go get lunch or something.” And this is where your confusion came in. You had been casually sleeping with Ryomen for a few weeks now, which was fun. But you had convinced yourself he would never want anything more. Why would he? You thought he had a roster of beautiful women getting in and out of his bed, why would he give that up to be with just one? It didn’t make sense to you.

“Ryomen, I thought we agreed we were going to keep it casual.” You reminded him. It was the unwritten contract the two of you agreed to when you started hooking up. It was to keep both of you from getting hurt feelings. He sighed and raised his hands in defense.

“Okay, not a date.” He paused for a second, “Hey, do you wanna like, go get dinner tonight, maybe catch a movie and then head back to mine?” He asked. You felt a blood vessel pop. At this point in your “relationship” with him, you were almost positive the only thing he kept behind those pretty doe eyes was the god damn audacity.

"Ryomen, that sounds like a date." You pointed out.

"Does it?" He played dumb, "well, if you insist we can make it a date." He fucking grinned again.

"No."

"Oh come on!" He said it loudly enough to earn a sharp shush from the teacher, reminding him that other people were here to learn not date. He rolled his eyes and returned to a whisper. "What's the worst thing that could happen if you go out with me?" He asked.

What's the worst thing that could happen? Easy: You fall in love. You already knew you liked him way more than any reasonable person would or should. His sense of humor fell in line perfectly with yours, you had similar taste in music and movies, and you knew that he was more caring than he would ever care to admit; a trait you noticed from watching him interact with his friends. To top it all off, he was smart as hell, and he was about as beautiful as God said the Devil would be. He was fucking dangerous, and so easy to love, you couldn't blame any of the girls that fell before you.

And that was the issue. Ryomen had a vice, and it was women. You’d seen it in action on campus, the way past flings would come up to him to try and rekindle something that was never lit in the first place. And he ate that shit up. He loved basking in the attention given to him, and if it made you jealous now, you couldn’t imagine the fights you’d get into if he was officially yours. And you really didn’t need a criminal record.

"What's the worst that could happen?" You reiterated, "I get Syphilis."

"I hate to break it to you, beautiful, but if that was the case you'd already have it." He chuckled. Yeah, you walked right into that one. You pinched the bridge of your nose, repressing the urge to yell at him that it was way too early for this shit.

"Ryo-"

"I love it when you call me that."

"-Men, Ryomen let me finish," you groaned, "I'm really trying to pay attention here, can you just drop it?" You sighed in exasperation.

"Sure, if you agree to go out with me." He smirked.

"Why are you so desperate for this date?!" You struggled to maintain a whisper, "Isn’t what we’re doing right now enough? You’re already getting what you want out of me, why do you want more?"

Ryomen felt himself shatter, like a wine glass being forced to endure Mariah Careys’ high note. He thought the two of you had moved past your perception of him as a fuck boy using you for you body but, apparently not. Did you not know? Did you not know you were the only woman that was allowed to sleep in his bed? The only girl who he brought to just casually hang out with his friends? The only person in the world that he had ever cuddled with? He didn’t talk about his after graduation plans with any of those other girls. He didn’t talk about his little brother, or why he was a business major to them. He didn’t stay up all night talking to them because he just wanted to hear their voice. All of that was reserved for you. You had no idea just how special you were to him.

"Because I don't just want your body, I want you!" He said just a little bit too loudly. Great, now people were looking, "You've all I've been thinking about for weeks, do you know how weird this is for me?! I'm going crazy over you, and you won't even give me a chance, You won’t let me prove to you that you’re important to me!” You could feel the eyes of the classroom drill into you, and it made you want to shrink away. Something had to give.

"If I agree to go on one, count them, one" you held up a finger for emphasis, "date with you, will you shut up?"

"Without hesitation."

"Fine, then shut up." You chastised him.

"Wait, so is that a yes?" He smiled wide, and if he was a dog his ears would have perked up.

"That's not shutting up!" You reminded him, "it's only a yes if you don't say another word this entire class period." He beamed as he nodded, giving the universal sign for 'My Lips Are Zipped' as he settled into his seat, and you wondered what the hell you had gotten yourself into.

♥️♥️♥️

“You dress way too extravagant for him.” Mei Mei sighed as she saw your outfit. You didn’t see where she was coming from. A tight, albeit plain, black mini dress with pumps was hardly what you would call extravagant. Though, you supposed in the context of your typical wardrobe it was quite the contrast. But, this was your fifth date with Ryomen, and he told you to dress nice. You thought back to your one date stipulation, and almost laughed. You really didn’t expect that first date to go so well.

“Aren’t you the one that told me there’s nothing wrong with dressing up for a date?” You asked as you finished putting on your earrings. She rolled her eyes as you threw that back at her.

“Yeah, if you think your relationship with the guy might actually go somewhere it’s fine.”

“Who’s to say my relationship with Ryo won’t go somewhere?” You scoffed as you turned to her. She scoffed back.

“Ryo?” She all but sneered, “Gross. And it won’t go anywhere because it’s Ryomen Sukuna. He’s like, the literal definition of manslut. He’s going to break your heart Y/n, and you’re not even his official girlfriend. You’re his toy.” Mei muttered. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. You knew her condescension came from a place of concern. Mei Mei had been with a lot of guys, and had her heart broken by even more. You almost took what she said into consideration. Then you remembered she had never really expressed concern for you before your situationship, and quickly brushed her off.

“He’s waiting for me.” You smiled at her as you left your shared dorm. You found him standing outside the building, exactly where he said he’d be. He always looked handsome, but tonight he looked damn near dashing. The black dress shirt and slacks worked for him, especially with the sleeves rolled up. He grinned when he saw you, and your heart squealed like a school girl in a shoujo anime. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t walk a little faster to get into his arms.

“Hey gorgeous,” He laughed as he picked you up in one of his signature bear hugs. You could get lost in the comfort of his arms. He sat you down with an adoring smile.

“Hey Handsome,” you winked, “Ready for our date?” He was taking you to a super upscale restaurant downtown. One of those places where you have to make the reservation like, a week in advance and pay way too much for not enough food. Admittedly, it made you kinda nervous.

“No, not at all,” His confession was disguised with a joke. He was as nervous as you were. “I have to give you something first.” By the power of plot, it was only then that you noticed the thin box in his hand. He lifted it up, presenting it to you as if he was a jeweler as he opened it. You didn’t quite process what you were looking at at first. It was a small white gold, cursive R with small rubies embedded into the stem of the letter. The pendent hung from a dainty white gold chain, and every ounce of your poor kid blood just knew that necklace cost more than your parents rent.

“Ryomen, what the fuck?” You asked, not fully processing the situation.

“I like to mark what’s mine.” He shrugged with a devilish smirk, “You don’t have to take it, but I bet it would look good on you.”

“I look good in everything,” You said, taking it out of the box to admire it. It really was a beautiful piece of custom jewelry. Your first reaction was to reject the gift. Gifts like these didn’t come without conditions, expectations. You knew that by accepting the necklace, you were accepting Ryomen. You couldn’t deny your situation anymore, couldn’t delude yourself into thinking the two of you were less than what you were. You’d have to accept the reality in front of you, the future in front of you. You looked at him and felt the smile tug at your lips. “Will you put it on me?”

“Gladly.” He said, trading you box for necklace. As he fastened the ornate safety clasp around your neck, he leaned down. “I trust you know this means you’re my girl, yeah?” He whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You hummed, placing a hand on his head to hold him still while you kissed his cheek. Mei Mei was gonna be pissed.

♥️♥️♥️

“Look, we’ll only be there for like, thirty minuets,” Sukuna groaned, rubbing his temple with his left hand. “ABO is throwing the party, so all of us have to show some face.”

“Do you have to show some face, or sell some weed?” You asked, crossing your arms as the two of you walked down the street. In the two months you had been with Sukuna, you had been to more parties than you could count. Which was really starting to stress you out, considering you fucking hated parties.

“Why cant it be both?” he sighed.

“You still haven’t explained why I need to come.” You huffed, pulling down your short dress. You had been trying to put more effort into your appearance lately, and experimenting with just how much skin you were comfortable showing. Sometimes you got it right, sometimes you didn’t.

“I told you babe, guys are fucking idiots. They wanna buy drugs from the guy with the prettiest girl on his arm, and when you’re with me, I’m always that guy.” He smirked, hoping that was going to diffuse the situation at least a little bit. It didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

“Really? You’re flirting with me? Right now?” You scoffed.

“It was worth a shot, right?” He shrugged.

“I’m going to fucking bite you!” you threatened, stopping in your tracks to emphasize how pissed off you were. He sighed again as he stopped and turned to face you. He put his hands on your hips and pulled you closer to him, fighting the grin that came up as he noticed the slight shock on your face. He managed to suppress it though, and put his puppy dog eyes into action for evil.

“I know you don’t want to go babygirl, I’m sorry,” He murmured to you, ghosting the back of his knuckles along your jawline, “But will you go? For me? I’m only asking for thirty minuets.” Fuck. Fuck. This was a dirty tactic and he fucking knew it. You sighed, dropping your forehead onto his chest, and hugging him back as he pulled you into a proper embrace.

“Fine, but…can you promise me you’re not going to flirt any other girls there? Or let them flirt with you?” You muttered.You didn’t just hate parties for the drunken social aspect of them, though that was a part of it. No, you hated them because they always started fights in your relationship. Normally, you loved being with Ryomen. He was sweet and caring, and you knew he loved you. But he also had a problem with leading on other girls.

You knew his attention whore antics would be a problem, and while you believed him when he said it was never physical- just flirting, that he didn’t even realize he was doing it, it always hurt you anyway. There was always a seed of doubt that it wasn’t as subconscious as he claimed. That maybe he didn’t love you as much as he said he did.

“Of course baby girl, you know you’re my one and only.” He promised, wrapping his arm around you as he walked you to the fraternity house. You had a sinking feeling in your soul this was a bad idea, one that only got worse as you saw all the drop dead gorgeous women in the room.

“Hey, I’m gonna go grab us some drinks, want anything?” He asked, knocking you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll come with.” You said, following Ryomen to the kitchen. There sat Nanami in his designated spot behind the bar, half heartedly listening to an art major talk about the impressionist movement. He was nodding along like he understood, like he was engaged, but there was no light behind his eyes. You felt bad for the art major.

Ryomen grabbed two cups of the frat jungle juice for the two of you. You took yours and quickly started to chug without even considering who made it, and almost immediately gagged at the burn. You managed to choke it down after a fight for your life. “What the hell is in that?!” You snapped.

“Oh, Suguru made the juice this time,” Nanami said, taking any opportunity to leave the art history conversation, “It has like, an entire bottle of everclear in it.”

“An entire bottle?” You asked in disbelief, “Is he okay?”

“No.” Nanami scoffed, as if you should know.

“Hey, Ryomen!” Satoru laughed as he and Suguru spotted Sukuna. They walked into the kitchen. “And Y/n!” Gojo gasped when he saw you, always shocked to see you at these events no matter how many you attended. He ran over and hugged you, causing you to chuckle softly and Ryomens eye to twitch. He quickly got in between you two, pulling you from Satorus arms and into his. Gojo rolled his eyes, but otherwise let it go.

“I’m glad you could make it!” He smiled.

“I always do,” You laughed to hide your frustration with that statement.

“We’ve got a beer pong table set up outside, wanna play?” Suguru asked. There was a beat before you realized.

“Wait, me?” You asked, a little shocked. You fully expected him to be talking to Ryomen.

“Yeah, you,” He chuckled, “You’re our Fraternity Sweetheart, we gotta show you off somehow, right?”

“She is not the frat sweetheart.” Ryomen scoffed before you could process the information.

“Oh yes she is!” Gojo declared, “Everyone on campus knows it!” Everyone except you apparently.

“No, shes not!” Ryomen insisted. He hated that they called you that. It made him feel like he had to share you with them, a thought that made him actively violent. They could find some other sorority sister to be their sweetheart, but you were his. “Nanami, back me up here.”

“Sorry man, I’m with the boys on this one.” He shrugged, “She’s at all of our events, she’s here every weekend, the chapter loves her.” Oh he did not like the verbiage used there.

“I love how you guys all thought to ask me how I felt about this, so very thoughtful of you.” You laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“Yea, exactly! You don’t even want to be a sweetheart, do you baby girl?” Ryomen asked, fully turning to you. A realization hit you like a truck trying to teleport you to a fantasy world. Something in the way he said baby girl, in how intense he was in fighting against the tittle. Ryomen was jealous. Of course, this was nothing new, but the idea of him being jealous of these guys just felt so absurd to you. You were used to giving into his jealousy, to baby it and tend to it; like a dutiful nurse. Protecting his ego at all cost. Your first instinct was to continue that tradition, but then you thought about it again. He never went out of his way to try and take care of your jealousy. And being a fraternity sweetheart may actually be fun.

“I mean, I am at every single party you guys throw, I might as well be the sweetheart, right?” You smiled and the other guys cheered, even Nanami let out a little whoop! Ryomens eyes looked dark though. He knew exactly what you were throwing in his face. You wanted to say being this petty was unlike you, but since you started dating Ryomen…

“You offered beer pong?” You smiled to Suguru, who gladly took you outside to the table, Satoru tagging along with a reluctant Ryomen dragging behind.

It had been four months since you first slept with Sukuna, and two months since you got together. Sometimes you questioned that decision. Actually, you questioned it a lot. You questioned if he ever actually wanted to be in a relationship, or just liked the idea of it. If he wanted to have someone stable waiting for him at home while he still got to do what- or who- ever he wanted. The way he talked to some of the girls at these parties made you think that was the case. He talked to them almost as if he forgot he had a girlfriend, or worse, as if he resented the fact he had one.

Which was so unbearably confusing for you! He pursued you so fervently, as if he was convinced you were soul mates. You were happy to keep things casual with him for exactly this reason. He was the one that wanted to take things to the next level, He was the one that made things official, hell- He was the first one to say I Love You! And it’s not like he tried to hide you, he posted you on social media, he took you out as often as he could, that motherfucker tried to get a tattoo of your god damn name! Thank God Suguru talked him out of that one. It didn’t make sense to you that he would be this obsessed with you regularly, but the moment he got a few shots in his system and a cute girl approached him it’s like you were a ghost to him. It made you fucking angry.

The air was warm and full of laughing as you played against Satoru.

“Hey, you have to bounce it, you can’t throw it!” He giggled, trying to swat away your ball.

“Oh, but you can swat it?!” You scoffed through smiles, “Unfair rules!” This was your third round, and he only had one cup left. That being said, he was about half way through yours, and you were definitely starting to feel it. It was actually kinda nice to be thoroughly enjoying a party. To feel like you were here to hang out with your friends and not just to please your man.

“Come on Satoru, how are you going to lose to someone who’s wasted?!” Suguru laughed, grabbing your elbow to help steady you. You should have known something was wrong when Ryomen didn’t step in.

“By also being wasted!” Gojo chuckled as he completely missed his shot and you sunk yours. Cheers and hollers erupted in the crowd, and you proudly threw up both hands as you had won again. You felt like a star. Like you were actually cool, and accepted. You felt amazing. You looked over to your darling boyfriend to share the moment with him.

Only to feel every once of warmth leave your body when you saw him talking to another woman. You knew her well, Amanda from your english class. She talked all the time about how hot Ryomen was before the two of you got together, and joked about stealing him after. From the look of that heart wrenching grin he had on while he talked to her, it looked like she had a chance.

“Walk away. Just walk away.” You thought.“Come to me.” She laughed obnoxiously loud at a joke that probably wasn’t even that funny. Even he looked surprised at the reaction he got. Then she got closer. Your body went into rigor mortis as your lungs forgot how to work. “No. Please No.”

She kissed him. The next three seconds felt like three years. You watched her wrap a hand around his neck and pull him closer, wrap another hand in his hair and you fought vomit. It was a tender act you thought was sacred between the two of you. You guessed not. You ran off, not having the heart to watch anymore. You didn’t see him push her away and onto her ass. You didn’t hear him yell at her.

“What the fuck skank?! Why the fuck would you do that?!” He scoffed, aggressively wiping his mouth.

“I-I’m sorry! I just thought the conversation was going well, so-”

“So you fucking kiss me?! Do you do that to every man you have a conversation with?!” He physically spat, “You didn’t even fucking ask! Have you never heard of fucking consent?!”

“Look, I thought-!”

“No, you didn’t think of shit! I have a fucking girlfriend, do you know that?! Jesus fucking christ.” He groaned, walking away from the situation to find you.

You were making your way through the house to go home, fighting tears because you’d be damned if these assholes saw you cry. You swam through the sea of drunken bodies swaying in the house. The bass from the music felt all too intense, the lights all too bright. Everything was just too much. You felt disconnected from and all too aware of your body all at once, and all you really wanted was non-existence.

“Leaving so soon?” Nanami asked from his place on the houses steps as you walked out. He looked up, noticing the tears you had let slip, and his eyes widened a bit. He immediately dropped the asshole act, standing up and placing a concerned hand on your shoulder. “Y/n, are you okay? Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Ryomen is a cheating bastard.” You managed to gasp through choked breath. This whole not crying thing was so much harder than you thought. That didn’t sound like the Ryomen Nanami knew though. The Ryomen Nanami knew didn’t shut up about his girl. He wanted to marry her after graduation, he was trying to build a life with her. He wouldn’t cheat on her. Something wasn’t right.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, but that can’t be right. Theres gotta be a mis-”

“I gotta go Kento.” You whimpered, brushing his hand away. You refused to listen to one of his frat dude friends try to defend him. You took off the R that weighed down on your neck, his claim to you, and handed it to Nanami. You knew you wouldn’t be able to face him again to return it. “Please give that to him, I need to leave.” You muttered, all but running away from the party.

You should have known better. You did know better. You hated that you expected this and still got hurt. Everything just felt so unbearably heavy. When you broke up with your last boyfriend, you just felt numb. You felt about as inconvenienced by it as when they got your order wrong at Mcdonalds. Annoyed, yeah- maybe even pissed off. But ultimately you got over it quick, it had barely hurt your week.

But this? This felt like hell. This felt wrong. Like when a loved one suddenly dies, or if your house burned down while you were away; like the universe was fundamentally broken- turned upside down and left to rot. You felt so fundamentally stupid for giving him a chance. For letting him trick you into thinking he was in anything other than lust. For falling in love with a demon like him. All of the devotion and warmth you held for him tasted so fucking bitter, like it had been preverted and turned into a curse. You wanted to crawl home and tell your mom she was right.

But, your dorm was much closer. “Hey nerd, how was the- oh no.” Mei Mei said, looking up from her laptop as she heard the door open. You looked like a rejected member of Kiss, make up running down your red face, hair a mess from the outside wind.

“Mei mei, he-” You tried to get it out, but just choked on your words, breaking down into the sobs you were holding back. Mei rushed over to wrap her arms around you and keep you from collapsing in on yourself.

“Oh sweetheart…I’m so sorry.” She sighed, leading you over to your bed and sitting down with you. She knew what happened without you saying it. She knew it was going to happen. She was mostly just shocked it took this long.

“I’m so stupid..”

“Yea, a little bit.” She confirmed, patting your back and shushing you as you broke into another sob. Your phone went off. She checked it for you, snarling at the ‘where are you?’ text he sent. That motherfucker had a lot of gaul. She tossed your phone into your desk drawer, then went and grabbed the emergency ice cream she kept in her fancy mini fridge. She joined you on the bed with two spoons and her laptop.

“Okay, what do you wanna watch?” She asked, pulling up netflix.

Meanwhile, Ryomen was losing his mind looking for you, and Nanami was losing his mind looking for him. “There you are!” Kento snapped as he finally found Ryomen coming out of their shared dorm.

“Nanami, have you seen Y/n?” He asked immediately, “I can’t find her, and I’m about to start hitting people about it.” He said, running a nervous hand through his hair. He had never lost you for this long before, and he was really starting to panic now. If anything had happened to you, he was going to make tomorrows nine o’clock news.

“Yeah, she ran out like an hour ago saying you cheated on her, is that true?” Nanami asked, feeling like he already knew the answer.

“What?!” Ryomen snapped, grabbing Nanami by the shoulders, “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that an hour ago?!”

“Because I’ve been looking for you for an hour dipshit!” He yelled, pushing Ryomen off, “Answer the question!”

“No it’s not fucking true! Why the hell would I do something that fucking stupid?!” Ryomen scoffed at the very idea of such a thing. He remembered his encounter with Yuki, before the two of you had even become casual partners. The thought of trying to be with another woman made him nauseous then, and that feeling had only intensified as your relationship grew.

“Then why does she think that you did?” Nanami questioned further, trying to get to the bottom of the situation.

“I don’t know! I-” Shit. He didn’t even finish his sentence before the unwanted kiss flooded his memories. A hit from a sledge hammer wielded by Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson would have been softer than the realization that not only did you see the kiss, but thought it was welcomed. Suddenly, he didn't have blood in his veins anymore, only liquid nitrogen. “Oh my god, she saw Amanda kiss me.”

“What?! Ryomen, you said you didn’t che-”

“I didn’t!” He snarled, “She kissed me when I was trying to sell to her. I pushed her off, it was not mutual!” The last thing Suguru and Gojo expected to find when they went to slip off to their room was Nanami and Ryomen fighting in the hall, but, suppose theres a first time for everything.

“Whats going on?” Gojo asked, needing to be in the center of every drama ever.

“Y/n thinks Ryomen cheated on her.” Nanami explained.

“You fucking what?!” Suguru hissed, ready to fight on your behalf.

“I didn’t actually do it!” Ryomen yelled in his own defense. “She saw Amanda kiss me, but I guess missed the part where I yelled at her for assault!”

“Well she’s officially on the ban list.” Satoru stated what everyone else assumed went without saying.

“Wait, where is Y/n now?” Geto asked.

“Home, I assume. It’s where she was going.” Nanami explained.

“I have to go get her.” Ryomen said more to himself than anyone else, attempting to leave before Gojo stopped him.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Satoru asked, “If it just happened, she may not be willing to listen to you yet.”

“No, Ryomen’s right. The longer he lets this sit the worse it’ll get.” Suguru pointed out. “This is something you address immediately.”

“Not necessarily! She may be working it out on her own,” Satoru was being delusional, “I mean, has she broken up with you yet right? Like officially? Cause if not, showing up at her doorstep out of no where may be the end your relationship.” Wait, he had a point.

“No, She hasn’t broken up with me.” Ryomen sighed in almost relief. You two were still together, that ment there was hope. Hope of a conversation, hope to save the future he had built for you two. Maybe all wasn’t lost.

“Yeah, so…about that.” Nanami muttered almost sheepishly as he held up the white gold necklace you had tossed at him. Ryomen felt his soul evacuate his body and the liquid nitrogen in his veins turn into lead. The room was spinning and the only thing he could focus on was the jewels that should have been around your neck. The symbol of your relationship, dangling abandoned from Nanami's fingers. You had left him and he didn’t even know it.

“Shit.” Mai Mai muttered, checking her phone half way through an episode of whatever you had put on. “Shoko got too fucked up and needs a ride home from the bar.” She sighed. You knew what that meant.

“That’s ok,” you managed a smile, “Go make sure she’s safe.”

“Are you going to be okay?” That was a loaded question if you’d ever heard one.

“Yeah Mei, I’m not gonna like, kill myself or something stupid like that.” You forced a laugh to really sell that you were falling apart. Mei gave a concerned face, but knew that Shoko still needed her help.

“I’ll be back in like, an hour, ok?” She said as she grabbed her keys, “If you need anything or god forbid he shows up, call me, ok?” She demanded more than asked.

“Okay, I will.” You sighed, waving off your friend as she left. Once alone, you decided you might as well take the opportunity to get into pajamas. You shuffled to your closet, feeling more like a zombie than much else. That was until you opened the door to reveal Ryomens hoodie hanging up with the rest of your clothes. The icy tendrils of despair returned, and despite your better judgment you pulled the old hoodie down.

He had left it here a few weeks back, and you had been snuggling up in it ever since. At the time it was a major comfort, now it was just another thing to return later. Despite yourself, you still hugged it, imaging you were just hugging him goodbye for some closure. You hoped it would help you let go. Instead what happened is you were greeted with his familiar scent, pine and cigarettes, and your eyes started gushing again.

You collapsed onto your bed as you clung to the fabric, wishing it was him. That tonight had never happened, and he was still yours. It was a nice thought. Your pity party was interrupted by what could only be described as a cop knock on your door. It startled a yelp out of you, and almost scared you enough to make you forget you were sad.

“Y/n, please, let me in.” Mother fucker! Why would he think this was a good idea?!

“No Sukuna, I have nothing to say to you.” You snapped, and he cringed on the other side of the door. He hated when you used his last name for him. It made him feel like his father.

“That’s fine! Just let me say what I have to say.” He begged, “Y/n, it’s not what you think.”

The Audacity

How fucking dare he show up to your door with the worlds lamest fucking excuse and expect it to work?! How fucking dare he act like you didn’t have two working eyes! The rage that filled you with pushed you off the bed and to the door, throwing it open just to smack him across the face. His eyes blew wide at the attack. He had never seen you violent before. He kinda liked it.

“You’re a real fucking douche bag, do you know that?!” You snapped, “You spent fucking months trying to get me to agree to be with you, just to do this to me! Do you know how much this hurts?!”

“Y/n, I-!”

“I’m not done!” You shouted, officially pissing off your across the hall neighbor.

“Take it to your dorm, not the hall!” Utahime yelled from behind her door. You growled, but reluctantly pulled him into your room, closing the door behind the two of you.

“You lead me on for fucking months, fucking months, making me think you loved me and wanted to be with me, just for it to turn out to all be a lie! Then, when you realize you fucked up, you turn up at my door with the lamest excuse known to man! What the fuck do you have to say for yourself?!” You hissed, venom dripping for your lips like thick cyanide.

“She kissed me,” He explained, holding up his hands when he saw you open your mouth to argue, “You asked me what I had to say for myself, right? This is what I have to say, just let me talk.” You closed your mouth reluctantly, waiting for him to continue.

“She started talking to me because she wanted to try pot and knew I had some to sell. I sold her an ounce and we kept talking about her fucking major or some shit. Honestly, I don’t even remember what we were talking about, I was just trying to give good customer service. But I guess she was into it, cause out of no where she kissed me. But I didn’t kiss her back, Y/n! I pushed her off of me, I yelled at her that I had a girlfriend, hell, I’m pretty sure I fucking spit on her. You have to believe me Baby, I wanted nothing to do with that!”

He was talking fast and panicked, and not at all like how he normally spoke. Like he was scared for his life, grabbing his hair and trying to control his breathing. His fear almost transferred to you, but all you really wanted was to hug him, to assure him it was okay. A part of you wanted to deny it all, because that was so much easier than admitting you were wrong and jumped to conclusions. That you let Mei Mei and your mother get into your head.

But you knew your boyfriend better than that. You knew that this wasn’t the ramblings of a liar, but the ramblings of a desperate man needing to be heard. The honesty in his eyes, the tremble in his normally steady voice. You thought about how Nanami tried to argue with you when you first accused Ryomen. At the time you refused to hear any of it, but Nanami had never been one to bull shit anyone or defend his fraternity brothers shitty actions. And suddenly, your stomach filled with stones as you realized what you had done, what you had almost thrown away.

“Ryomen,” You muttered, slowly approaching him as if he was a hurt animal.

“I kept looking for you after it happened, I was going to tell you! But you were gone-”

“Ryo,” You tried again to cut through his thoughts, standing close enough now to touch him.

“But then fucking Nanami found me, and he had your necklace, and-” Oh shit, he wasn’t there anymore. You recognized a doom spiral when you saw one. You gently grabbed his cheeks and forced him to look at you. Those puppy dog eyes you fell in love with were wide and full of fear, filling you with a sick dread that made your skin feel far too tight.

“Baby, look at me. You’re getting lost in your head.” You said softly, using your thumb to wipe away a stray tear.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry I-”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry I ran away instead of just talking to you about what happened.” You sighed.

“Yea that was kinda hypocritical of you.” He nodded.

“Ryomen.”

“I’m just saying, you’re the one talking about how important communication is.”

“And I apologized, did I not?!” You laughed at the emotional whiplash of it all. He let a small smile slip as he watched. He finally felt like he could breathe again. He pulled you into a tight hug and kissed the top of your head.

“I swear, this love shit’s gonna put me in the ground.” He more gasped than laughed, the crash of his body no longer being in fight or flight mode weighing heavy on him.

“Ain’t that the truth.” You huffed, shaking your head as best as you could against his chest. Your body still hadn’t gotten the memo that things were okay now. Your bones still felt like they were shaking in your skin. He parted enough to hook his finger under your chin, tilting your head up at him. Your heart skipped a beat, taking in how soft he looked in the moonlight fluttering in from your window. He was proof god had favorites. He smiled softly to you.

“I think you’re worth it though.” He whispered, before leaning down and pressing his soft lips to yours. It didn’t matter how many times they two of you kissed, your heart always freaked out about it- like a mega fan in the pit at a concert. Your arms instinctively moved to wrap around his neck, he he took you by the hips, pulling you deeper into the kiss. He bit your lip, and took the opportunity of your soft moan to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Your body started warming back up, his comforting smell putting your panic response to ease. Your nervous system pulsated back to life, sparks flying in your blood waiting to be caught in his inferno. On one hand, it felt almost wrong to be kissing him so soon after the events of the night- like a betrayal of yourself. On the other, your heart craved him like a drug, his affection gave you a high that nothing else could even come close too. You felt like you were spinning and a heat was quickly pooling in your legs that you knew he could take care of.

One of your hands tangled into his soft pink hair, tugging softly. He took that as his que to pick you up. You wrapped your legs around his hips long enough for him to sit you down on the side of the bed. His kisses moved from your lips to your cheek, to your jaw, to your neck. You moaned softly as he sucked soft bruises into your collar bone.

He pushed you back down on the bed, lowering himself to his knees in between your legs, like a sinner praying for forgiveness at an altar.. You were suddenly pretty thankful you hadn’t gotten around to changing yet. He hiked the dress up around your hips, smiling when he saw the underwear you were wearing.

“Black lace, huh?” He teased, forgetting the past like, hour and a half apparently, “Were you planning this sweetheart?”

“I assure you I did not plan on us breaking up.” You laughed. He did not like that you used the words “Breaking Up” and “Us” in the same sentence. It didn’t affect him they way that it did before. It didn’t fill him with that overwhelming feeling of panic that it had earlier. It didn’t freeze him in place. Instead, it just filled him with white hot rage. Surely you knew better than that, right? You were his, you weren’t going anywhere. “Breaking up” was not an option. He just had to remind you who you belonged to.

“Good thing we didn’t break up.” He said. Before you could protest, he pushed your panties to the side and ran his warm tongue along your folds, earning him a soft, pretty gasp from your lips. He smirked to himself, noticing how wet you were from just kissing, gathering the silky liquor on his tongue, and swirling it onto your clit. He started spelling his nickname with his tongue, R. Y. O, R. Y. O, and you were lost to whatever he wanted.

Your body pulsated with electricity, every swipe of his tongue sending a new wave of bliss through your body. You moaned out his name, fingers tangling into his hair to try and keep yourself grounded. You felt like you were made of pop rocks and stars, eyes rolling back in pleasure, pulling him closer to your core. You could feel a tsunami building inside of you, a sea of pleasure threatening to over take you.

“Have I ever told you how sweet you taste?” Sukuna moaned, sliping two fingers inside of your gushing pussy. You mentally added that to the list of weird compliments you had received since becoming bedfellows with the wannabe bad boy. Or, tried to I should say. As you were filing the thought away, he curled his fingers into your g-spot, turning any coherent thoughts you had had before into oh fuck that felt good and fuck I’m already getting close. Ryomen felt the way your cunt clenched around his fingers, and felt his own dick twitch. He knew how that clench felt around his cock, and more than anything he wanted to feel it again.

“Ryo, I-I’m...yea” You tried to warn him, but the electric shockwaves going through your body made communication rather difficult at that moment.

“Oh yea?” He chuckled from between your legs, punctuating his sentence with a sharp suck to the bundle of nerves between your legs. “Then cum for me pretty girl.” It didn’t take much after that, his words of affirmation waking up butterflies in your stomach and in your cunt. A few more curls of his fingers and swipes from his tongue and suddenly cartoon stars were exploding in front of your eyes. Your climax tore through you with a vengeance, the storm hitting you and drowning your senses in bliss and oxytocin. Your entire body felt like it had been struck by lighting made of erotic thrill, the aftershocks leaving you shaking in it’s wake.

Your soul was still trying to make it’s way back to your body when his lips met yours again, your taste mingling with his on your tongue and leaving your head spinning. You went to grab his shirt, finding that he had taken it off at some point, which was more than okay with you. He nipped at your jaw and your neck before pulling away and getting you up long enough to take your dress off you. You went to take off your bra, only for him to stop you.

“Hey, hey, whats the rush?” He asked from the foot of your bed, wicked grin showing off his naturally sharp canines, “Take it off slowly.” This was 100% a power play and you know it. Normally this fucker was literally ripping clothes to get them off you quicker, your sudden uptick in panty buying could attest to that. But now all of the sudden he wanted to go slow? Fine, you could play that game.

You stood on your knees to give him a better view, slowly shimmying the straps off your shoulders. His scarlet eyes burned into your every movement as you slipped your arms out of the straps as elegantly as one could. You made eye contact with him as you unhooked your bra, one hook at a time. Or, tried to at least. His eyes were trained on your chest. You grinned at the aggravated groan he let out, watching you catch the fabric before it fell and revealed your breast. His eyes were dark and you could tell by his shifting his jeans were getting too tight.

“Slow enough for you?” You smirked at him.

“Keep running that mouth and I’ll give you something to do with it.” He warned, and you just laughed, finally letting your bra drop to the mattress. You saw his body physically tense as to not grapple you then and there.

“You want my mouth? Oh, but I’d much rather have you somewhere else.” You teased, looping your thumbs into the sides of your underwear as you started to pull them off your hips at an agonizing pace. Ryomen felt like he was going to lose it, feeling his fingers, among other extremities, twitch with the need to touch you. He tried to be a good boy, he really did, but when you rolled your hips at him he lost it. In a flash he had pulled you under him, and was fumbling with his belt.

“Hey, what happened to slow?” You teased.

“Fun experiment, not for me.” He responded, freeing himself from his jeans and lining himself up with your still dripping entrance. He caught your lips in a kiss as he dived in, swallowing your sweet moans as he filled you to the brim. It didn’t matter how many times Ryomen was in between your legs, it always felt like the first. The burning stretch as his hips connected with you setting your body on fire and filling your brain with tv static. You could feel your already weak legs tremble around him, and he groaned as your pussy fluttered around his cock.

“God pretty girl, you feel so fucking good for me.” He moaned, setting a brutal pace as he pushed into you, his cock brushing against your g-spot and massaging your cervix. “Like you were made to be on my cock.” Who he was talking to was a mystery to you because you were not there. You were in outer space, floating on atoms and space dust as he rocked into you, bliss filling your veins as you felt euphoria spread through you and pool in your core.

He threw one of your legs over his shoulder, letting him dive even deeper into your velvety walls. He grabbed your hips in a vice grip, no doubt leaving bruises you could take finger prints off of. Every thrust hit your g-spot, the new position letting him reach places that you didn’t know existed. “Oh, fuck, Ryo don’t stop.” You begged.

“Didn’t plan on it,” He assured you, watching the way your eyes screwed shut in pleasure. “Hey no-” He growled, removing his hand from your hip to grab your chin, “Look at me.” You whined as you opened your eyes, meeting his lust filled gaze. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You Ryomen..” You moaned, feeling yourself reaching your peak.

“Who’s the only person that makes you feel this good?” He demanded the validation.

“You, Ryomen, you!” You squirmed underneath him as all of the stimulation became too much. Your hands started to tingle as your body got ready to tumble off a cliff. You weren’t even fully processing what he was asking, you just knew to say his name.

“Who do you belong to Y/n?”

“Ryomen..” You whimpered, digging your claws in his back as your legs trembled, “Ryo, please..” You gasped, teetering on the edge. His hand left your chin and found your clit, massaging expert circles into it. It was your tipping point, sending you hurtling over the edge of your orgasm and head over heels into euphoria, the sea of bliss overtaking you as red hot lava replaced your blood. You felt almost dizzy as you were hit with wave after wave of ecstasy, vision going blurry with tears from the intensity of it all.

Ryomen wasn’t far behind you, the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, pulling him in deeper and deeper with every convulsion. He told himself he really couldn’t have pulled out even if he wanted to; filling you until you were overflowing and thanking Aphrodite for the invention of birth control. He rolled you over as he collapsed next to you, managing to stay inside.

The two of you stayed like that for awhile, breathing deep in your afterglow, before he finally pulled out, albeit reluctantly. He kissed the top of your head, fixing his pants and finding a washcloth to clean you up with. “I’d say sorry for the mess but, It’s kinda hot.” He chuckled softly. You rolled your eyes and threw on his shirt.

“Dick.” You muttered. He nodded in agreement.

“Is that a request? I could go again.” He grinned as you weakly hit his arm with your finger tips.

“You’re lucky I love you.” You grumbled softly. He nodded.

“I know…I love you too.” He whispered. He waited a second before adding, “We’re still together, right?” more as a formality than anything.

“No, I slept with you as one final hurrah before deleting your number.” you joked.

“Oh, well then, I guess you won’t be needing this?” He asked, pulling your pendant from his pocket. Your eyes widened a bit as you saw it, almost forgetting that you had ever taken it off to begin with. Your hand instinctively went to your neck to protect it, only to find nothing there. obviously.

“My necklace-” You said, but he shook his head.

“Nope, my necklace. Unless you wanna be my girlfriend?” He smirked that evil smirk. You laughed fondly at him, then gave an overly exaggerated sigh.

“Well I suppose, if it’s the only way to get my jewelry back, then we gotta get back together.” He chuckled as he hooked the chain around your neck again, admiring the way it dazzled against your skin.

“It looks good on you.” he praised, kissing your forehead.

“Everything looks good on me.” You winked.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO CALLING ME IF HE SHOWED UP?!” Mei yelled as she finally returned home.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ Taglist ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

@risuola @grimreaqueer @baji-keisukes-wife @aliensbelieveinme-blog1 @marenalee @ryosuku

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #frat boy! sukuna x reader #jjk frat boy au #fratboy!sukuna #soft sukuna #hurt/comfort #college au #modern au #sukuna smut #curseless au

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starzwithapen · 11 months ago

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⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

JOHN DORY / READER ☆ DUET?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

☆summary: Brozone happens to play on the radio, and JD's appalled to find out you're not a fan

☆content: reader is not a pop-troll, reader is gender neutral, lowkey crackfic lmao, established relationship

☆a/n: Silver wrote this one!! And okay we KNOW realistically JD would tell his partner about being in brozone but for the sake of the comedic factor in the fic he's hiding it shshsshshhsbshshsh

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

You'd been sitting in the driver's seat, driving Rhonda around [a rare occurrence, but JD indulged you just this once] while John Dory stirred his sugar into his mug, handing you yours with a kiss to your cheek. You nod at him gratefully, looking down at the buttons spread across in front of you, one of them particularly sticking out to you.

“Woah, wait, I didn't know Rhonda had a radio.”

John Dory leans against the back of your seat, arms wrapped around you from behind, “ehh, I don't use it often in case it scares off all the animals.”

He pokes your arm playfully, eyes glancing out the window, “we're pretty far out, though, should be fine to listen to some tunes.”

You insert a random channel number, turning the volume upwards. This one seems to be a host speaking about the weather, so you switch to the next- sounds like a cheesy pop song of some kind, probably a boy band. You snort at the lyrics- you didn't know anyone could fit that many synonyms of “girl” into one song.

You switch onto the next channel without catching John Dory's wide, shit-eating grin, and the immediate way his face practically crumples apart, “wuh- hey, what's wrong with that last song? It was really good.”

“Okay, I know you're a pop-troll,” you start, trying to find a channel with your preferred music, “but you have to remember I'm not. That stuff hurts my ears.”

John Dory leans backwards, arms crossing around his chest, “Okay, yeah, you don't like pop music, but why that song specifically? I was really jamming out to it, y'know.” He makes that smug smile of his that normally has your cheeks heating, “guy's a lyrical genius if you ask me.”

You stare at him, unimpressed, because he's got to be joking if he thinks that song has deep lyrics.

“JD, he just rhymed baby with baby. Three times in a row. Within the same chorus.”

“Hey, it's hard to think of rhymes that don't throw off the choreo, okay?” He points an accusing finger in your direction before pausing, forcing a nonchalant pose and pursing his lips, “Or- uh, or so I've heard.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's what you pop-trolls always say. I think that guy just needs to pick up a dictionary every once in a while.”

You don't actually care about the song that much, but seeing John Dory get this riled up over it is funny enough for you to go further,

“I bet you I could write a better song by the end of the week than that guy has his whole career.”

John Dory's grin turns wolfish, and oh boy, you should've known better than to try and challenge him, even jokingly,

“Oh you bet, do you? We'll see about that.”

—-------------------

This whole thing was going. Uh. Badly.

Your conversation had escalated into another one of your bets, which you surprisingly lose more often than not, most likely because you bite off more than you can chew. John Dory's unfortunately very aware of this, and throws you bait whenever he can. This time was no different. Winner gets one request for the loser.

You are not a song-writer by any means. You're a troll, yes, trolls sing and dance! But you don't write songs! The most experience you have with rhyming is a shitty poem you made as a teenager that never saw the light of day.

You'd started with listening to more of Brozone's music, and okay, you have to admit, some of their songs were actually really good okay. You'd caught yourself humming them more than once throughout the day, and John Dory always gives you that smug look from your peripherals before leaning in to kiss you senseless. He knew you were coming around to them and it was humiliating, and he was also concerningly elated by it.

While listening you've come to realise the lead singer sounds oddly similar to John Dory, just with a higher pitch and none of that raspiness. Like, freakishly similar. It's had you thinking John Dory's calling for you when he's just sound asleep, and the fact you misheard Brozone's “baby” or “honey” as JD is frankly embarrassing.

You groan and slump against the couch, the pen tumbling out your hand and clattering onto the ground below. Okay, you had to admit, this was really difficult. You were suddenly gaining so much more respect for boy bands.

You'd wanted to use this ridiculous bet as an opportunity to show off, or…even bring you and JD closer together- you know how important music is to him, so getting to write him a love song under the guise of a bet? It's a perfect chance handed to you on a silver platter!

But you just can't seem to think of the words- it's already been a week and so far you've written, what? 4 verses? And they all sucked. You wanted it to mean something- you wanted it to sound poetic and elegant and meaningful all at once, unlike those silly songs on the radio, but it just wouldn't work out!

You muffle a frustrated shout into your hands, pulling them away from your face when you hear footsteps, looking up to see John Dory towering over you.

“You give up yet?” His smile is adorable infuriating to look at, so you cast your gaze aside, huffing and grabbing your pen off the floor.

“No, ‘course not.”

He hums, patient for you to admit defeat, trying to take a peek at your notebook from up above, though you're not too worried since he can't read upside down [or at all, you've come to suspect].

“Okay, fine, I give up. You win.”

John Dory lets out a ‘whoop!’ and throws a fist upwards in celebration, smile so wide you're afraid he'll split his face apart.

You sigh, “Okay, hit me with it, I'm doing the dishes for a full week? Scrubbing Rhonda's windows?”

“Sing a duet with me.”

“This is so unfair, you know I hate doing the dishes- wait- huh?”

John Dory looks at you with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, holding his palm out for you to take, “Sing a duet with me. C'mon, don't think I haven't seen you swaying to my- uh, ahem, Brozone's music the past few days.”

He recovers quickly from his slip-up, tugging you upwards once you take his hand. He carefully starts up his record player, and you're surprised to find you recognise the song immediately, since it'd become a favourite of yours this past week.

“You know this one?” JD grins in your direction, one hand on your waist and the other on your shoulder, his touch gentle yet firm, “think I've heard you hum it a few too many times during breakfast.”

The song starts off slow, as does your dancing, the both of you simply swaying together- you don't exactly…dance often, so your movements are clumsy while his are self-assured.

The lyrics are cheesy, all about young teenage love, but…they make you feel giddy, your steps becoming lighter, your heart fluttering about. And, well, the song may not have deep mind-blowing lyrics, but you think that's the point of it. It's just meant to be fun, have your blood pumping and your heart soaring.

“We're grown adults, this song is for highschoolers.” You say, though your smile is fonder this time. John Dory chuckles and spins you around in his arms, making your head spin in more ways than one, your feet tripping up over his, “C’mon, live a little! Who says we can't be young and free in our mid-thirties?”

You stumble in place, trying to blink the dizziness out your eyes.

“JD, I'm gonna knock you out.” You try your best to grumble, but it only comes out flustered with how hot your cheeks are.

He smirks, twirling you around, “You've already knocked me-” his foot slides under yours, and you fall down into his arms with a yelp as he catches you in a perfect dip- “off my feet.”

Just before you can spew another insult at him for catching you off-gaurd like this, he leans in to kiss you, lips melding against yours sweetly. You melt into it, his arms secured around you so you don't fall, the music fading into background noise in your mind. You know your voice will be hoarse from singing and your muscles sore from dancing by the end of the night, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

Would be superr cool if you left feedback if you enjoyed it's super helpful and much appreciated ! this guy is so cringefail I NEED HIM. -silver

#starzwrites #WORKING ON VIVA REQS RNNN ^w^#this was already in our drafts since silver wrote it so Im posting jt rn while i work on Viva stuff yippeee !!!#trolls #trolls x reader #john dory x reader #trolls john dory x reader #x reader #reader insert #self insert

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parkerslatte · 9 months ago

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Finding Home || Part Three

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: mentions of parental death

Summary: Azriel and Y/N cross of two tasks and get to know each other a little better.

Finding Home Masterlist

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

If Azriel had thought a week ago that he would be sitting outside a small cafe with flowers overflowing in hanging baskets waiting for Y/N to come out with drinks, he would think it was a completely made up scenario in his head. But it was his reality. The air was cold but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle, but Y/N was wrapped up in her scarf, thick coat and gloves and shivering as she sat in her chair, placing a mug of coffee in front of him.

As he looked at her, he did feel bad. The only reason they needed to sit outside was because of him. There was nowhere inside the cafe where Azriel could sit comfortably with his wings. Azriel watched as Y/N pulled out a seat and sat down opposite him, cupping her mug between her two gloved hands. She raised her gaze and met Azriel’s slightly concerned one.

“What’s with the look?” Y/N asked, her voice slightly muffled by her scarf.

“You can sit inside,” Azriel said. “I can stay out here.”

Y/N frowned. “Absolutely not! We are completing that list together. It will not be together if I have my coffee indoors while you sit out here all on your own.”

“But you are shivering,” Azriel said.

Despite the many layers Y/N wore, there was still a small shake to her body that Azriel could tell she was trying to hide. “I will be fine,” she answered. “Now, how do you want to tackle the tasks?”

Azriel took a sip of his coffee, the small chill in his body slowly warming. He was used to the cold temperature yet the warm drink still felt satisfying spreading through his body. “I don’t know. I haven’t even read the whole list.”

Y/N held out one of her gloved hands. “Give me the list.”

Without any questions, Azriel handed over the list and Y/N unfolded it and placed it on the table. She shuffled her chair closer to him, the metal scraping against the cobblestone street. While Y/N’s eyes were on the list in front of her, Azriel’s were on her. He still couldn’t believe that someone was willing to do any of these tasks with him.

“We can cross a lot of these off in one go,” Y/N said. “You can easily do number one and number thirty at the same time.”

“What are those?” Azriel questioned.

“Read a book and relax,” Y/N said. “In fact you can easily pair number twenty two with it as well. Have breakfast in bed.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I don’t see how I could have possibly done that by myself. I would need to go to the kitchen and make the food then go back to my room. It would be easier to just sit at the kitchen table.”

Y/N giggled and Azriel turned his head toward her. “What’s so funny?”

“That you assume that I will make you breakfast in bed.”

Azriel’s eyes widened. “That’s not what I meant, I just…”

Y/N placed her gloved hand on his forearm. “Relax, I’m just teasing. But I will be expecting you to make me breakfast in bed too.”

“There will be no doubt about that,” Azriel replied, his gaze falling to the list once again. “So what shall we do about the theatre one? As far as I know the theatre in Velaris is currently under construction.”

“Well, there is a theatre in the Summer Court, it’s right on the beach. It’s gorgeous! My father was originally from the Summer Court and he took me there when I was child. I try to go back on occasion. It’s a way to remember him.”

“I’m sorry,” Azriel said, placing his hand on top of her gloved one.

Y/N smiled, yet it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s okay. It didn’t happen suddenly or anything, he caught an illness that was incurable, even the best healers couldn’t help him. For a year I was expecting it but even when it happened, it was a surprise.”

“When did it happen?” Azriel asked.

“Nearly one-hundred years ago,” Y/N answered, looking at where Azriel’s hand rested on top of hers.

Azriel looked at Y/N, truly looked at her. Despite her happy and calm demeanour, there was a certain sadness lurking beneath the surface. Something within him wanted to take all of that sadness and pain away and make sure that she never had to feel it again.

Y/N cleared her throat. “So, how about we tackle two of these tasks today? One obviously being the coffee and the second could number seventeen, cook dinner? Only if you want to, of course.”

Azriel smiled. “Of course I want to.”

The smile that spread across Y/N’s face was unlike anything Azriel had ever seen. It felt as if a warm blanket had been draped across him. “Great,” Y/N said. “We can buy some ingredients and go back to my apartment. Unless you want to do it at yours?”

Azriel thought of his apartment. The lifeless rooms that held no meaning to him. He had moved into it when he began to feel like he was intruding on Cassian and Nesta. Every morning he would have breakfast with the two of them and he could tell that both of them were too polite to mention that they just wanted breakfast for the two of them.

His small apartment was the first and only thing he looked at before he bought it. It did its job well enough and that was all Azriel was after. Now…he only craved a home. Somewhere where memories are etched into the walls and floors. Somewhere where he could make his own memories…with his own family someday. Y/N’s apartment was the closest thing to that. Even if he hadn’t even fully looked around it, just from the living area alone, Azriel could tell it was well loved and lived in. He could tell that it was a home, not just a building.

“No, your apartment is fine with me,” Azriel answered.

Y/N nodded and folded up the list and placed it within her own pocket. Azriel couldn’t help but smile at that simple action. She was really in it for the long haul with him. This complete stranger he met not even twenty-four hours ago.

“I don’t have a particular recipe in mind but when we buy the ingredients, we can just improvise,” Y/N said, taking a sip from her coffee.

Azriel agreed and lifted his own coffee back to his lips, smiling as he took a sip. The feeling of a real smile still felt foreign on his face yet he was getting used to it. As he looked at Y/N wth her thick scarf, gloves and coat he couldn’t help but smile a little wider. He wasn’t expecting to be caught but as soon as Y/N’s eyes met his, she smiled in return. Her quiet laugh was the only sound he could focus on.

“What?” Azriel asked.

Y/N shook her head. “Nothing, I just…you weren’t who I expected you to be.”

Azriel frowned. “What do you mean?”

Y/N shrugged. “I just didn’t expect the shadowsinger of the Night Court to be all smiles and laughs. It’s far from the way others talk about you.”

Azriel deflated a little in his chair and Y/N’s eyes widened. “Not that it’s a bad thing. I was just expecting you to be…broodier, I suppose. But you seem to smile a lot. It’s rather beautiful.”

Her compliment sent another faint blush across Azriel’s cheeks. He hadn’t received attention like this from someone for quite a while. It was nice.

“I-thank you, Y/N,” Azriel said.

Y/N waved her hand dismissively. “You don’t need to thank me for a simple compliment you know damn well is true. Just look at those dimples.”

Azriel cleared his throat. “You are ruining my reputation here.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “It was ruined the moment that gorgeous smile appeared on your face.”

Azriel’s cheeks began to ache. He tried to fight the smile away but he couldn’t no matter how hard he tried. “So,” he said, changing the subject, “when do you want to buy the ingredients?”

Y/N quickly glanced at her coffee, it was nearly empty. She lifted it to her lips and took a final sip. “Now, if you are ready too?”

The coffee in Azriel’s mug was gone, only a tiny amount remained, not even enough for a mouthful. “Let’s go.”

As the two stood to their feet, Y/N suddenly gasped. “Wait, before we go.”

She dug in her pocket and pulled out the folded list and placed it down on the small wooden table. “We can now cross one thing off.” She handed a pencil to Azriel. “You can do the honours.”

Azriel took the pencil from her grasp, her fingertips brushing against hers. He expected her to pull her hand away the moment they made contact but she didn’t. In fact Y/N didn’t even pay any attention to the scars on his hands. All she did was look at him with an excited expression on her face. Azriel didn’t want to recall his hand.

“One down, twenty-nine to go,” Y/N said as Azriel reluctantly pulled his hand away to cross out the task.

“Twenty-nine to go,” Azriel repeated.

Originally thirty tasks seemed to be a long and pointless list but now as he stared down at it, he couldn’t help but think that it was too short. He was only one task down but he had found that he hadn’t had as much fun or smiled as much as he had in a long time. The way Azriel felt; he never wanted the feeling to end.

“Let’s go and get the ingredients,” Y/N said, tucking the list back into her pocket. “There was a recipe my parents used to make that I loved when I was younger. If that’s okay with you? If there is something you would like to make, just tell me. They are your tasks after all.”

“That sounds perfect to me, Y/N,” Azriel said.

She smiled and linked her arm through his. “Then let’s go, shadowsinger. Let’s show the rest of Velaris how intimidating you are with that gorgeous smile.”

Azriel couldn’t help but blush.

***

The moment Y/N and Azriel entered her apartment, it was getting dark outside. Their trip to gather ingredients for their meal took a lot longer than originally anticipated. The two of them simply enjoyed strolling around different stores with one another. The domesticity of it all made Azriel’s heart soar.

“So,” Azriel said as he peeled potatoes. “Tell me more about yourself, Y/N. I’m sure you have spent more time talking about my smile than you have talking about yourself.”

Y/N laughed as she nudged Azriel out of the way to reach for the carrots next to him. “I can’t help it if your smile takes my breath away and I find it hard to speak.”

Azriel rolled his eyes but remained silent.

“In all honesty, I’m not too interesting,” Y/N said.

“Liar,” Azriel said, nudging her with his elbow lightly.

“I’m serious!” Y/N exclaimed. “I just have a simple job.”

“What is it?” Azriel asked. “You haven’t mentioned anything about your job so far.”

“I haven’t? Hmm, must have slipped my mind,” Y/N said and began to chop up the carrots. “If you must know, I work in a music shop. I teach lessons there on occasion too.”

Azriel smiled softly. “That is not simple.”

“It really is,” Y/N replied. “It’s nothing like a job defending this court and keeping it safe.”

Azriel frowned. “It may not be but it is a beautiful job regardless. What do you teach?”

“Mostly piano and violin,” Y/N answered. “I mainly teach children but sometimes I get some older fae request lessons.”

“How long have you taught them?”

“Probably close to a century now,” Y/N replied before sighing. “Before that I simply worked in a bakery.”

Azriel gleaned over and noticed her eyes glossed over in sadness. He stopped peeling the potato immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Y/N said, though it was clear she wasn’t. “It’s just…the reason why I started to teach children to play music is because it is what my father taught me. From the moment I could walk he began to teach me piano. I was awful at first and I hated playing it. But I soon fell in love with it.”

Azriel placed his hand gently upon hers, squeezing it to offer some comfort. Y/N’s eyes snapped to his hand then to his eyes. A small smile appeared on her face.

“That piano over there was his,” Y/N said, glancing to the corner of the room where a piano resided covered in a layer of dust. “I haven’t been able to play it since he passed.”

“It is a beautiful piano,” Azriel said.

Y/N smiled. “It truly is. My mother gifted it to him for their mating ceremony.”

Azriel smiled. “She must have truly loved him. It is a beautiful gift.”

“She did,” Y/N said. “I don’t remember much of my mother, she died when I was only two years old. But I do remember the love she had for my father. And from what I vaguely remember and from what my father told me, she loved me very much.”

Azriel smiled. “Your parents sounded wonderful.”

“They were,” Y/N said sadly. “My mother was Illyrian, you know?”

“Really?” Azriel asked, looking to her back, seeing if she had hidden wings she hadn’t told him about. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Y/N chuckled. “A lot of people don’t realise. I was born without wings, not even the power to summon them at all.”

Azriel looked down at the potato he held in his hands as he realised he had gotten caught looking for the most distinguishable feature of an Illyrian.

Y/N brushed her hair behind her ears. “My ears aren’t as pointed as the High Fae’s either, but not as rounded as yours.”

Azriel looked at her ears, at the tips that seemed different to any he had seen before. Though he was rather distracted by the jewellery that decorated them.

“So it seems that we have something in common, Azriel,” Y/N said.

Azriel looked away from the jewellery that decorated her ears and back to her eyes. “It seems that we do.”

Y/N smiled before picking up her carrot again. “Tell me about yourself now. I feel like I’ve spoken about myself forever.”

“There is not much to talk about,” Azriel answered.

Y/N groaned. “Come on! You are what? Over five-hundred years old? There is surely plenty you can talk to me about.”

“You are not that much younger than me!” Azriel exclaimed. “There is surely more fot you to talk about too.”

Y/N gasped dramatically. “You should never assume a female’s age, Azriel. Now, tell me about yourself. Remember I am holding a knife, I might not be able to do anything with it, but remember I am holding one.”

Azriel huffed out a laugh. “What do you want to know?”

“What are your hobbies? What do you like to do except flash that smile about?”

Azriel nudged her gently before cutting into the potato. “I am…not really sure what I like doing.”

“Come on,” Y/N said. “There has to be something.”

The shadowsinger shrugged. “I like reading, I suppose.”

“Great, that’s a start,” Y/N said.

Azriel placed the potato in the pan and moved onto another but found himself at a loss for words. What did he like to do? In his feelings of loneliness he had seemed to abandon everything he enjoyed doing in favour of taking on more tasks and missions to distract himself and keep himself busy. He was sure that he hadn’t picked up a book for his own pleasure in quite some time.

“I honestly can’t think of what I enjoy doing,” Azriel admitted. “It’s been a while since I have done anything for my own personal pleasure.”

Y/N looked up at him, something akin to empathy in her eyes. Azriel looked away quickly and continued to peel the potato. “I normally just ask Rhys to send me on more missions to fill my time.”

“You need to take time for yourself,” Y/N said, lowering the carrot once again.

Azriel scoffed. “I’ve taken enough time for myself. All I ever am is by myself.”

“I never mentioned anything about being by yourself,” Y/N said. “Do the things you enjoy doing but invite someone along.”

Azriel looked down at her, his eyes calculating before his shoulders slumped. “It’s difficult. Every conversation I have with my family now is all about their family. I just feel so…behind.”

Saying exactly what he was feeling aloud made everything real but at the same time lifted a small amount of the weight on his shoulders.

“It’s okay to be behind, you have a long life Azriel. You don’t need to catch up with your family, you can take things at your own pace,” Y/N said, toying with a carrot shaving.

“Y/N, I am nearly five hundred and fifty years old,” Azriel said. “If I was destined to have a family, surely I would have been blessed with one by now.”

Y/N shrugged. “I am four hundred and ninety eight. If I were destined to have a family, surely I would have one by now. It doesn’t matter when you begin your family, Azriel. What matters is that you are ready to start it with the right person.”

“You’ve never found that person?” Azriel found himself asking.

Y/N shook her head. “I thought I did. It was a long time ago now but he was from the Winter Court and I was in love with him and he was in love with me.”

“What happened?” Azriel asked.

“We grew apart,” Y/N replied. “He was part of the Winter Court’s army and was constantly busy with his duties where we would have no time to see one another. We still loved one another but we weren’t in love with one another. It ended amicably, I was even invited to his wedding. When I saw them, that was the love that he deserved, not the surface level love I was offering.”

“What about you? I guess you haven’t found that person either?” Y/N questioned.

Azriel thought of Elain. “I thought I did too. But we were not compatible at all. After the initial…lust passed, we were left with stale conversation. She is a great friend now, though. There has been no one since.”

“There’s another thing,” Y/N said.

“Another what?”

“Thing we have in common,” Y/N responded and shuffled over to the other side of the kitchen and poured glasses of wine out and passed one to Azriel. “To our loveless lives.”

Azriel huffed out a laugh and clinked his glass against hers. “To our loveless lives.”

Taglist:

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