#so i’m thrilled that the movie did so well with him

[wildsaltair]

I am not immune to the charms of beaten, bedraggled, post-pyrrhic-victory gunfighter-turned-preacher-turned-sheriff Cort

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time I Gave Him Covid”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: pure fluff, Sukuna makes you watch The Human Centipede but nothing is described in detail, pining at the end but he’s in denial

Word Count: 1.08k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Look, a day off is nice, and a few days off could be a real treat, under just about any other circumstances. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee that you didn’t even need to add sugar to because the bitter taste can’t affect you when you literally can’t taste it.

You noticed the symptoms a couple hours ago, scratchy throat, can’t taste, can’t smell; you had an extra Covid test under the kitchen sink since you bought a two pack a couple months ago, and unsurprisingly you tested positive. And now you’re stuck in your little apartment for a week, trapped in the confined space with your oversized roommate who’s going to be just thrilled to hear the news.

He’s literally gonna kill me.

As if on cue, you could hear Sukuna’s footsteps thumping down the stairs, his eyes meeting yours as he turned the corner and a look of confusion spreading across his face.

“Don’t you have a job?”

You snort, oh he’s not gonna like this, “I’ve got bad news bud.”

“Don’t ever call me that again.” He shoots you a glare as walks into the kitchen, pulling a glass out of the cabinet.

You roll your eyes, a sheepish grin creeping at the corners of your lips as you prop your cheek onto the palm of your hand, “We have Covid.”

“Who’s we?” He doesn’t even look at you, his back facing you as he pulls a carton of milk out from the fridge and fills the glass.

Even though he can’t see it, you give him a quizzical look, “We literally live together? My germs are all over the place.”

He turns around, leaning his back against the kitchen counter and looking down at you in your seat with a nonchalant expression, “I’ve got a good immune system,” He brings the glass up to his lips and takes a sip, “I’m fine.”

You know he’s full of shit, cocky bastard can’t genuinely think he’s above getting sick, right? You look up at him dumbfounded as he casually sips his glass of milk, he’s got a completely blank expression.

When’s the last time we even bought milk? That has to have been sitting for a while now. Oh, oh wait…

Hah, yeah he’s so full of shit. He cocks a brow at the smirk you didn’t realize had grown across your face.

“What’s so funny, brat?”

“How’s the milk taste?”

He shrugs, clicking his tongue in his mouth, “Fine.”

“When did it expire?”

“It didn’t,” He raises the glass to his nose and smells it with no changes in his expression, he picks the carton up and turns his wrist to read the back of it, “It’s good ‘til-”

He stops himself short, his mouth dropping into a small surprised oh, you can’t even attempt to suppress the giggle that escapes you.

You let your arms slide down outstretched across the kitchen table, your cheek pressed against the smooth wood, “I guess we’re quarantine buddies.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

I figured as much.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Your face is buried in your hands, shielding your poor, absolutely tortured eyes from the TV. Eerie music with muffled screams and maniacal laughter emit from the speakers and fill the room as Sukuna outstretches his leg to reach your side of the couch, prodding at your arm with his foot.

“You’re not even watching.”

“This is horrible.”

“This is payback.”

You peek through your fingers, immediately wanting to gag at his disgusting movie choice. The Human Centipede, really? He’s watching it so casually, somehow managing to have the stomach to eat popcorn as well, albeit most of the popcorn has been tossed into your hair from when he caught you squeezing your eyes shut during the teeth pulling scene. Now that was brutal.

“Can we please watch something else? Anything?” You whine into your hands.

“I’ve got the DVD for Cannibal Holocaust.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, flopping your head backward onto the couch cushion.

It’s gonna be a long week.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“Woman, how in god's name do I move?”

“You click where you want to go, and,” You lean forward and tap your finger onto your laptop's screen, “Click here.”

“That’s so fucking stupid.” He grumbles under his breath.

You roll your eyes but to be honest, you’re impressed he was actually willing to play one of your games. It seems the last few days of being stuck together have broken him down a bit, and now you’re leaning against his arm watching him attempt to maneuver around The Sims on your laptop.

Sukuna lets out a frustrated groan, “This game sucks, you can’t even kill people.”

You draw back in surprise, “Have you never played Sims before?”

He turns his head towards you, looking completely baffled that you’d even ask, “No? Obviously.”

Oh he’s in for a treat.

Within an hour he’s drowned 4 people, burned down someone’s mansion, got a call to come meet a child that he didn’t even know was his, and let out an absolutely delighted “Oh? What’s this?” when he found the tools to make prison bars. You can’t say you’re surprised by any means, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t amused.

You’re watching his eyes flicker around the screen, brows furrowed in concentration and his sharp canine digging into the side of his bottom lip as he oh so meticulously picks out the least comfortable looking beds for each little prison cell. You’ve been slowly slouching against his side more and more over the last hour, and he either hasn’t noticed or is too invested in his mass murder scenarios to even care as sickly fatigue has your head resting on his shoulder and your eyelids feeling too heavy to keep open.

Little do you know, he’s well aware of your weight pressing into him; but, he’s willing to let it slide this time, deciding that you’ve pleased him enough for him to hold back from pushing your sleepy body onto the ground. Even though it would be hilarious to see the look on your face when you wake up to your back flopping onto the plush rug beneath you, and even funnier to watch you try to slap at him as he holds both of your wrists in one hand, he’s willing to spare you just this once, although he couldn’t possibly fathom the reason why.

It’s not because he’s growing a soft spot for you, no, because that would be ridiculous.

A/N: I wasn’t planning to start with this one BUT I couldn’t stop thinking about this scenario so I guess we get him sick immediately asakjjaan Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to a taglist!!

[linos-luna]

Not so innocent ❣️

Felix x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut! Degradation, groping, slapping, dom/sub dynamic, rough sex, slight sadism?

—————————

Felix has always been an incredibly sweet boyfriend: loving, affectionate, and always ready for a cuddle. You often find yourself wondering how you got so lucky. But in terms of intimacy, that’s it. While there’s plenty of cuddles and kisses, there hasn’t been much in the way of deeper intimacy. Despite dating for months, things just haven’t progressed further. He’s never pushed you for more, and neither have you…

After seeing a movie with your friends, something stuck in your mind. It was a silly film, but there was this awkward sex scene that got everyone laughing. Your friends started joking about how your boyfriend, was probably a secret freak in bed like the guy in the movie. It was funny at the time, and you just waved it off.

Later, after grabbing a quick bite, you came home to Felix, who greeted you warmly as you walked through the door.

“Hi, baby,” Felix said, his voice soft and affectionate.

“Hi!” you replied, slipping off your shoes.

“Did you have fun with your friends?”

“Mmhm!” You nodded, moving to sit beside him on the couch. “We just hung out and watched some dumb movie,” you added as he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah? Sounds fun.”

“There was a weird sex scene, and one of my friends joked that you were probably a little freak like that guy,” you chuckled, throwing it out casually.

“Oh. Heh.” Felix paused, then gave a nervous chuckle, which immediately piqued your curiosity.

“Felix?”

“What?” he said, avoiding eye contact.

“You hesitated there,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Well, um…”

“Are you suggesting…?”

Felix blushed, clearly uncomfortable but not saying much.

“What, you like that sexual stuff?” you teased, leaning closer to him.

“Well—“

“Jeez, baby, why didn’t you mention it before? What kind of sexy fantasies do you have?” you asked, genuinely curious now.

“Oh, baby, it’s nothing. Nothing you’d like,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed.

“So you are a little deviant,” you chuckled awkwardly. “How do you know I wouldn’t like it if you never brought it up?”

“Well I just don’t know if you’re ready for what I like.” He smirked. “Might be a little much for a princess.”

You could tell he was teasing now, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to play along. Still, maybe it would be worth it.

“I’m sure I can handle whatever you throw at me,” you said, your face flushing as you tried to sound confident.

“Are you sure?” His voice dropped lower, sending a shiver through you as he leaned in closer. “Because I have many rules... and I don’t like it when they’re broken.”

There was a sudden shift in his demeanor, and the intensity in his eyes made your heart race. You could feel the heat rising in you, a sensation that was already making you wet and undeniably... aroused.

You were caught off guard. Who knew your sweet, innocent boyfriend had this... side to him? It was unexpected, yet strangely intriguing. Even though you'd never experienced anything like this before, a part of you was curious… maybe even eager to try.

“I think I can do it,” you replied, your voice filled with a hint of fake confidence, trying to mask the nervous excitement building inside you.

Felix’s grin grew, a devious spark in his eyes. “Is that so?” he whispered, his tone sending a thrill down your spine.

“Mmhm,” you nodded, feeling your heartbeat quicken.

“Alright then. Let’s establish the rules,” Felix said casually, his fingers gently stroking your hair. “First is the safe word.”

You paused, caught off guard by how serious he sounded. You’d never thought about having a safe word before. After a moment of thinking, you replied, “Hm… how about... flower?”

“Perfect,” he said with a soft smile. “Just say it whenever things get too much, okay?”

You nodded, a mix of excitement and nerves running through you as you wondered what else he had in store.

Felix took your hand and led you to the bedroom, guiding you to sit on the bed while he stood back, his eyes lingering on you with intent.

His voice was calm but firm as he began laying out the rules, his demeanor a far cry from the sweet boyfriend you were used to. “You’re my submissive. My little princess. You will address me by my name or ‘sir.’ Maybe ‘master’ if I’m feeling… extra.” He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You’ll listen to me and speak only when I say so. Got it?”

You nodded quickly, but he cleared his throat, making you jump. “Speak.”

“Y-yes, Felix,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” he said, clearly pleased. “Next, absolutely no touching yourself unless I give you permission. Your body is mine now. Got it?”

“Yes, Felix…” you responded, feeling your pulse quicken.

He continued, his tone even but filled with authority. “Good behavior will be rewarded. But bad behavior? That’ll earn you a punishment. And trust me, I don’t like bratty behavior.”

“Punishment?” you asked, a mix of curiosity and uncertainty in your voice.

“Mmhm,” he hummed darkly. “I have plenty of… toys… to punish you with.”

You chuckled nervously, thinking he had to be joking. “You’re lying. No way.”

But that smirk on his face told you he wasn’t. The devious glint in his eyes left you feeling nervous, yet undeniably more aroused.

“Disobey me, and you’ll suffer the consequences, Princess,” he said, his voice dropping lower, making you blush deeply.

Was it already starting? Was he already domming you?? Your thoughts were broken by one simple word.

“Strip.” He said simply, leaving to dumbfounded. This made him raise a brow. “Hey. I told you to do something.”

“O-oh sorry!” You said quickly when coming to. Slowly you removed your shirt then pants. He watched with a smirk, loving the sight of your body.

You were feeling a bit self conscious, you weren’t exactly the smallest girl around.

“You look beautiful, princess.” He said in a softer voice, reminding you that this was just an act.

You slowly removed your bra, stopping at your panties when he gestured to stop.

“Good girl.” He said as he got close to you. Felix moved you back on the bed, starting to get on top of you and gently kissing your lips.

A small gasp escaped your lips as you felt his hand between your legs. He rubbed circles on your clothed cunt, stimulating you ever so slightly; little jolts of pleasure making you twitch a bit.

Your boyfriend’s kisses got more aggressive as he bit your lip and inserted his tongue. His thumb pressed into your clothed cunt while his other hand squeezed your waist tight as he kissed down your neck. This had you whimpering.

From your waist, Felix moved his hand to under your bottom squeezing and pulling you into his hard cock that was prominent through his pants. Just the feeling had your cunt throbbing, making you hot and needy. You whined slightly, making him smirk.

“What’s wrong, princess?” He teased.

It was hard to speak as he continued pressing himself into your soaked underwear. “I asked you a question, doll~” he said in that deep voice, roughly grabbing your chin.

“M-mmhm— y-yes sir…” you whimpered in response.

Felix practically buried his face in your neck, kissing and biting at your neck. But it wasn’t nips. They were bites, the bites to leave marks. You nearly screamed, not sure if it was from pain or pleasure… or both.

“F-Felix—!” You gasped.

This only made him chuckle darkly as he moved down to bite around your collarbone. He squeezed your throat slightly as he marked you around your collarbone. Your heart was racing and you gripped his hand, digging your nails into his hand. Felix growled a bit and used his other hand to swiftly smack your thigh; it stung more than expected and made you cry out and let go of his hand

Felix stopped his biting and looked at you sharply, hand still lightly squeezing your neck. his eyes peered into yours, eyes full of lust.

“Causing me problems already?” He asked.

“I-I—” you barely managed to get out.

Suddenly a slap to your cheek had your attention. Instinctively, you tried grabbing your cheek before Felix slapped your hand away. “No!” He said sharply before slapping you again. “You answer me when I talk to you! Got it?!”

“Y-yes! Yes Felix!” You nodded quickly before he lifted himself off and suddenly flipped you on your stomach.

“Don’t move!”

Of course you didn’t. His sudden violent turn took you by surprise. What just happened?? You were still dumbfounded. You lay there face down like a ragdoll while hearing a belt unbuckling and some shuffling.

Felix was quick to discard his clothes to the side and propped your butt up. He smiled darkly while ever so slightly dragging his finger nails along your thighs. This made you shiver.

“Look how cute.” He chuckled while pulling the strap of your panties and letting it snap back.

A small whimper slipped out which seemed to satisfy Felix greatly.

After removing your underwear started stroking your cunt, slowly going through the folds, making your head spin. He would tease your hole with his fingers, relishing in your whimpers.

“You’re gonna hold still for me, right princess?” He asked in that deep voice, the voice that could make you cum on the spot.

“Y-yes sir…” you whimpered before he pulled your hair back and pinned an arm behind your back. A gasp was heard and you felt his hard cock touching your cunt. You barely had time to process before he suddenly pushed in. Your squeal was muffled by the bed sheets that your face was buried in.

Felix groaned as he started moving, but that gentleness didn’t last long as when he got comfortable in your warm cunt he went faster and harder.

It was as he was fucking all his anger into you. He wasn’t even grunting, more like growling as he railed you into the bed.

“A-agh! Felix—!” You were yelling and gasping into the sheets as he mercilessly pounded you, hitting that bundle of nerves that made you dizzy with lust.

“Such a good girl you’re being~” he grunted, only slowing down as he pulled your hair to raise your head. “Why hide those beautiful sounds, princess?” He growled as he yanked your hair again. “I wanna hear it. Oh please princess~” he teased, still thrusting slow but harsh and deep, making your eyes roll back. “I want the neighbors to hear~!” He smirked before speeding up again.

You were on edge, stimulated to the max, know that you’d come at any moment and he knew this.

“F-fuck—! Fuck!! Felix! Agh!” Your moans almost came out as screams as he pounded you into the bed. The poor bed frame that was smacking the wall over and over. You swear it was squeaking and that it was just gonna break.

“I can feel how close you are…” he groaned. “Are you gonna cum? Is my little princess gonna cum~?” he teased with fake sympathy. “D-do it! Make a mess! Say my name, whore!”

And there it was, the breaking point. The merciless railing and his deep voice saying those degrading words had you over the edge.

“A-agh! F-f-Felix—!” You moaned out loud as you came with intense pressure.

Almost as soon as it happened, he pulled out and flipped you on your back, before moving his throbbing cock around your sensitive area then coming on your stomach. You could tell it was intense for him too. He loomed over you, panting and with forehead sweating. He looked down at you with a smile as he gently massaged your breasts.

On the other hand, you were on cloud nine. The euphoric feeling taking over your mind like a drug. You could barely focus your vision on him and you mumbled out something incoherent.

“Shhh…. You don’t have to speak, Princess.” Felix was rubbing your cheeks, back to his soft demeanor. “You did so good for me. I can’t wait to show you more~”

[arlestial]

❝lavender haze❞

synopsis : Rin begged Ego to let you assist to one of his training games. But he wasn’t quite fond of your interactions with a certain player..

pairing : Rin Itoshi x genderneutral!reader •— Blue Lock

tw : A mix of fluff and comfort, with the slightest bit of angst (jealousy themes, possessiveness)

word count : 2700~ words

author-note : Hi !!! It's been so long, I missed writing so much... I finally passed my final exams, and I'm now in vacations; I’m going to Austria today. My blog is like- a blue lock obsession at this point lmao but ngl i like it that way. Btw, I’ve seen the movie and I'm just plain disappointed ? It was short asf, and the animation... well, we don't wanna talk about it. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated :) sorry if it’s bad btw !! Anyway, take care of yourself ♡

A rare, smug smile appeared on RIN ITOSHI’s lips; a smile that immediately triggered his teammates, who looked at each other, dumbfounded. They weren’t used to observe him with such an expression written on his usual stern features; as soon as he left the locker rooms, whispers emerged in the sweaty air, begging for an explanation.

"No way he did," Isagi contested with a frown and a disapproving tone, much to Bachira’s dismay.

"I’ve seen it with my eyes," The other retorqued, "Believe me. He smiled, dude. I’ve never seen him smile before."

"We’re gonna get fired from Blue Lock. I swear— he wouldn’t be happy if it wasn’t terrible. He’s a sadist."

"No worries, my dear Isagi. We’re going to elucidate this mystery together," Bachira replied with a proud smirk of his own; Isagi sighed at his friend’s antics.

"Maybe it’s personal."

"It’s never personal enough for us not to be nosy !" The dual-haired boy nearly gasped, "Our duo is unstoppable."

With more or less desire to intrude Rin’s life, Isagi joined Bachira into a rather quick — and disappointing — mission, to solve the mystery around the cold-hearted guy’s smile, a smile they had the chance to witness.

"Ah. Itoshi asked Ego to let his partner see the next training game. I didn’t know he would be this enthusiastic once Ego accepted."

Anri’s revelation should’ve been a relief for the two men — they wouldn’t be expelled of the program. Thus, Isagi had been surprised and confused when he noticed Bachira’s quiet attitude.

"Aren’t you supposed to be delighted you discovered the truth ?", The raven-haired boy asked, curious, as they walked in the corridor to join their rooms again.

"I didn’t even have time to feel the thrill of the investigation," the other whined.

"At least we know he has a partner. It’s… let’s just say it’s surprising someone like him could ever get someone."

"Someone like me ?"

The sudden third voice scared the two men off, and they jumped. Of course, it was Rin. Always there at the worst moment. Isagi gulped.

"H-Hey, I didn’t mean it like that—"

"What Isagi was trying to say, is that we’re not picturing you as the lovey-dovey type of guy, you know ? Not a good boyfriend or something."

If Isagi could facepalm right now, he would, "Thank you for your help, Bachira, it’s even worse now", he replied in a murmur.

"Who said I couldn’t be the "lovey-dovey type of guy" ?", Rin huffed in his usual cold tone, "and a good boyfriend ?"

"Everyone," the two others responded at the same time. Rin rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"So, y’all just sat down and talk about who could be a good partner or not ? That’s probably why you’re still fucking losers at soccer."

Bachira held Isagi back, amused by his eagerness to show Rin "who’s the real loser between them". Rin walked away confidently, and above all, enlivened by Ego’s answer. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it, the butterflies already flying eagerly in his stomach in anticipation.

RIN ITOSHI’s belly butterflies died in an instant. It wasn’t fair. At all. He had been longing for you since weeks now, months even; he negotiated with Ego for who-knows-long, trying to find a way to make you come to a training game of his — so that he wouldn’t have to search for you in a huge crowd of exasperating, futile, and bland people. And here he was, watching you from afar talking with Isagi Yoichi. He cursed under his breath. This dude had nothing to do with you. He was nothing compared to Rin; a mere guy, with limited soccer skills and knowledge and experience and — why were you talking with him anyway ? When he was right there, waiting for you. The training have haven't even started yet, and playing with Isagi left a bitter taste in his mouth. He threw a hard glare in your direction, which you immediately noticed; you waved at him with a smile, and it nearly made him melt. It would've if he wasn't this upset in the first place. Bachira called for Isagi, and the raven-haired boy returned to the field with a smile. If he could, Rin would definitely wipe the smile off this random guy's face.

RIN ITOSHI tried not to let this affect him. But the prominent and everlasting burning sensation in his chest clouded his mind, making him loose his focus each time his eyes would fall on either Isagi, or you. And god knows how much he had missed you, how he needed to touch you now, to feel your skin just against his — to kiss you endlessly, and his gaze softened by pure reflex as he noticed you were staring at him. He felt guilty, to entertain such hideous resentment towards you, while you were just there for him, as beautiful as the day he left you in your shared apartment to join Blue Lock again after his short break. Was he jealous? It couldn't be. Why would he be jealous of Isagi? He was better than him in everything. Atter 45 minutes, when they all got a short break from the match, Rin refused to say a word. He was always rather quiet - but now, it felt a bit weird. He just stared at Isagi with a cold gaze, and the other boy frowned. When they had to join the field again, Isagi stopped Rin, a hand laying on his shoulder.

"Hey, is everything okay? If it's about the score of earlier, I already said -"

"Look," Rin cut out quickly, his tone slowly shifting to an irritated one, "I don't want to hear your fucking voice."

Isagi's brows were now even more furrowed in confusion,

"What the.. I did nothing bad, dude. If you're upset, that's not my problem. Deal with your childish feelings alone, I don't know."

Childish feelings ? It was deeper than that. Much to Rin's own surprise, he grabbed Isagi's collar, dragging him closer with a menacing look. He didn't know, did he ? How much Rin loved you, how much he required your whole attention. Maybe it was childish indeed, selfish even, to desire to be your whole world. The only one you would ever think about. If he could make you his forever, he would; and at the same time, you had every right to talk to other people, be friends with anyone, you were free after all. But that wouldn’t rub out the aching feeling in his heart, seeing you smile with someone else, having a good time with someone who wasn’t him. Maybe because in the very end, he was scared of losing you. Of you, finally realizing you deserved far better than what he could give you. He was distant, sometimes. He hurt you too much, argued with you on futile things, left for Blue Lock for months, he was a huge mess, and still, you wanted him. It was a mystery for Rin, but he wouldn’t ever complain. He was too engrossed in your love and affection, and somehow, even if he knew it was fundamentally wrong, he’d never wish for you to realize what you truly deserved. Because it wasn’t him. And he couldn’t bare to see you enjoying your life with someone else other than him.

"I’m going to end your pathetic and meaningless existence so quickly you won’t have time to take another breath," Rin spat sharply, "I’ll politely advice you not to approach them ever again — don’t want your disgusting germs to infect them, understood ?"

With these words, Rin yanked him away and joined the field, leaving a widened-eyed Isagi behind him. As soon as the game ended, the whole Blue Lock team began gathering their water bottles, heading to the locker rooms. Rin stayed behind, since he wanted to spend some time with you before your departure. When you both were finally alone, you walked down the stairs, and Rin immediately engulfed you in his arms. One hand was grabbing your side, the other resting on the back of your head, pulling you close. He sighed, inhaling your familiar perfume — it was his favorite, the one he gifted you recently — and pressed a delicate kiss to the crown of your head.

"I missed you so much," He declared, or more precisely, complained, and you chuckled, embracing him just as tightly.

"And I missed you even more," you responded, loosening your embrace to look at him. He could die for this fond look in the depths of your irises. You didn’t have to ask; his hands reached for your cheeks, tilting your head backwards to kiss you gently, yet, eagerly, a pleading for your tenderness. You kissed him back, amused by his move. He was usually the reserved type, especially in public — even if the whole stadium was empty now. Your lips parted to welcome his tongue inside, deepening the kiss even more, a slow dance mimicking his need for you. He kissed your forehead softly when you two broke away from one another.

"What happened earlier ? With Isagi. I thought you were gonna fight."

The question tensed him. Of course you had to bring it up. He stroked your cheek delicately, as if you’d shatter if he wasn’t careful enough.

"Nothing, love, don’t worry. I was just—"

"He told me about it, Rin."

You cut him, and he winced. Ah. That was a problem. He swore he discerned a tint of disappointment in your eyes, but it faded away too rapidly for him to search for it again.

"I thought we said no lies between us."

"I know, darling", he could only mutter. You gently took his wrists, then his hands, intertwining your fingers together.

"Am I not reassuring you enough, Rin ? I won’t ever leave you. Especially not for a guy I just met. You know that."

"More than enough," the memory of your smile and laugh when Isagi cracked a joke made him sigh, "it’s hard to believe sometimes. That’s all."

You nodded; with his lack of self-esteem, how was he supposed to believe you, anyway ? It was a constant fight against the insecurities crawling in the pit of his soul, however, you would never let them win. He suffered enough alone, now that you were there with him, you’d be in the frontlines.

"But it’s still true. I’m lucky to have you, Rin. Maybe one day you’d finally recognize that."

At this moment, he wanted to tell you he was lucky to have you, but he didn’t dare, especially not when he saw you reaching for him again, your arms around his neck. He let himself drown in your arms and comfort, soothed by your heartbeat — at this very precise instant, he swore his heart was beating for you. And if you wanted it on a silver plate, he’d gladly do so.

"I’m sure his joke wasn’t even that funny."

You chuckled, "maybe not better than yours, I must admit."

Not far away, two boys were spying on the scene; their investigation had been more successful than what they ever hoped for, "maybe he’s not that bad, after all."

"I thought he was going to choke me to death."

"Oh, he could."

RIN ITOSHI was a possessive man. Somewhere, he wanted you to rely on him, and him only — to be the only source of your happiness. He never had something to call his; you were the first. And he fully intended you to be the last.

[aajjks]

Little Lamb (m)

synopsis. “Ah ah my little come out and I might not end up eating you.”

warnings: yándèrè, cáptïvè rèàdèr, ôbsèssïön, dárk thèmès, 18+ thèmès, thrïllèr.

“Come on yn you know if I end up finding you it’s not going to end well for you.”

Jungkook calls out in the dark windy jungle as he stalks closer and closer to that one particular tree, the leaves, random trash crunches beneath his feet as he takes heavy steps.

You are one little bitch for running away from him, but it only makes the chase more fun, he knows you’re hiding behind that old fucking tree.

The only reason you’re still alive right now is because you’re giving him the thrill and he loves you too much to let you die or maybe actually kill you.

You’re good at one thing and that is keeping him entertained. There’s nothing more he loves than chasing-

You must be terrified right now, oh, he loves it. There’s nothing more he loves it then seeing fear in your eyes. It makes you look so much prettier

You’re his prey and he’s your predator.

“Yn baby….” He coos, making his way closer, then he goes radio silent. He’s so close he can actually hear your heartbeat.

The wind is only adding more to the thrill of the chase, he loves it, this is like his own favorite horror movie, but the differences is that he’s the one producing it, he’s wrote it, and he’s gonna be directing it- + starring personally in it and you are his heroine.

“Baby you’re making it so much fun!!!!”

Oh, he loves scaring the shit out of you, he’s got you for months now, you really thought that you could manipulate him into thinking that you had accepted him, but he was always a step ahead of you.

That fake smile of yours is the worst thing ever in the world.

“Ah ah my little come out and I might not end up eating you.”

Jungkook finally stops, standing right infront of the back of the tree facing him.

He breathes in, taking his time to listen to the melodic sound of your labored huffs, your terrified uneven breathing. Jungkook inhales, he smell of the nature calms him down.

Looks like a thunderstorm is coming.

1, 2, 3

Jungkook doesn’t waste a single second before throwing himself at you as he moves around and pins your shaking figure against the tree.

“You fucking little bitch!” He screams in your face. Your figure shakes in fear and Jungkook slams you harder against the tree.

“Oh you little lamb- did you think that I wasn’t going to find you or that you were going to succeed in deceiving me?!” Jungkook laughs so hard that his chest vibrates against yours.

You open your mouth to speak but Jungkook pushes his hand across it. “Shut the fuck up. I’m going to kill you.” He seethes.

Your eyes widen in fear.

“Oh yeah don’t look so surprised. You’re a fucking brat anyways.” He rolls his eyes, and the winds flow only gets harsher as well as Jungkooks tone.

“Let’s get you home yeah? I’m way too sleepy for this shit.” He whispers, his teeth biting your earlobe as he licks his tongue across it.

“The milk you gave me is getting me sleepy. Let’s get home, Lamb.”

[psychoticfemmm]

Hia! Can you do another Peter Parker x Stark! Reader, I absolutely loved your last one. Could the plotline be along the lines of : Tony walks into your room and finds you and Peter asleep cuddling after you snuck him in the night before. Maybe the whole team gets involved and starts taking photos for blackmail 🤣 Thank you!

 Caught in the Act

pairing: Peter Parker x stark!reader

summary: read the request

The sunlight streamed through your bedroom curtains, falling perfectly on the two of you. Peter Parker’s arm was draped over your waist, his face nuzzled into your neck. His warm breath tickled your skin, and you groaned softly, stirring from your sleep.

The events of the night before were hazy but thrilling: a whispered phone call, Peter scaling the side of the Avengers Tower, and an impromptu movie marathon that ended with the two of you tangled up in each other’s arms.

Peter shifted in his sleep, his nose brushing against your collarbone. A soft hum escaped him, and you smiled, reaching up to lightly ruffle his messy curls.

“Good morning, lovebirds.”

The unmistakable voice of Tony Stark shattered the moment.

Your eyes snapped open, and your heart dropped. Standing at the foot of your bed was your dad, his arms crossed and an expression caught between amusement and absolute mortification.

“D-Dad?!” you stammered, sitting up abruptly. Peter groaned at the sudden movement, blinking himself awake.

“Morning, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled sleepily before realizing where he was and who was standing there. His eyes went wide, and he bolted upright. “MR. STARK! I—uh—this isn’t what it looks like!”

Tony raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Really? Because it looks like Spider-Boy snuck into my daughter’s room and decided to cuddle his way into trouble.”

“Dad, it’s not like that!” you protested, though your flushed face said otherwise.

“Oh, so it’s worse,” Tony quipped, cutting you off. “Got it. And by the way, the entire team is outside, loving this.”

Your jaw dropped. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” Tony replied smugly. “Because if I have to suffer through this, everyone else does too.”

Right on cue, the door creaked open, and Steve Rogers stepped in, his phone out and snapping a picture. “Morning, kiddos. Cute couple pose, by the way.”

“STEVE!” you yelled, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at him.

Natasha followed, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “Aw, I remember young love. You guys were adorable—until Stark called us in for backup.”

“Seriously?” Peter groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Oh, it’s not just us,” Natasha added as Thor poked his head in.

“Why was I not informed of this bonding moment?” Thor boomed, grinning. “Ah, Spider-Man and Stark’s offspring. A powerful duo!”

“Can you all get out?!” you shouted, grabbing another pillow.

“Not until I get my blackmail photo,” Natasha teased.

Peter tugged you closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “You know, if this keeps up, I might have to climb out the window.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you muttered back, glaring at the group.

Bruce finally showed up, shaking his head with a soft laugh. “Tony, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“I like to think I’m setting the bar,” Tony said smugly.

Finally, the team filtered out, laughing and bantering as they went. Tony lingered for a moment, fixing Peter with a look. “You’re lucky I like you, Parker. But if I catch you sneaking in again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter stammered.

As the door shut, the room finally fell silent. You let out a sigh, flopping back onto the bed. Peter lay beside you, covering his face with his hands.

“Well,” you started, “that went about as horribly as it could’ve gone.”

Peter groaned. “They’re never going to let me live this down. Your dad is probably going to build a tracker for me now.”

“Probably,” you teased, rolling onto your side to face him.

He peeked at you through his fingers, his face still flushed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a grin.

Peter leaned in closer, his voice dropping slightly. “You know, we could’ve avoided all of this if you hadn’t convinced me to stay the night.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I convinced you? Last I checked, you were the one who said, ‘But I can’t leave you now, you’re too cute when you’re sleepy.’”

His cheeks turned redder. “Okay, fine. Maybe I did say that.”

You leaned closer, your lips brushing against his. “Guess you’ll just have to make it up to me later.”

Peter’s breath hitched, but before he could respond, you pulled back, smirking. “Now, get up, Spider-Boy. We’ve got breakfast to deal with—and probably a million jokes from the team.”

“Great,” he muttered, though a small smile tugged at his lips. “But next time, we’re sneaking into my room. May wouldn’t call the Avengers on us.”

“Deal,” you replied, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door.

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part6. soccer game

MINORS DNI!

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: you couldn`t sleep and accidentally you woke Vi up, so you decided to confront her about fellings

・❥・ genre: smut + kinda friends to lovers

・❥・ word count: 2.8k

✎ warnings: 18+, homophobia, panic attack, blood, mention of smut, fight, abuse, swearing, violence

WHEN I NEEDED YOU masterlist

on the way to the soccer game, you messaged Trish, eager to share with her what had happened.

"hey, are you coming to the game today? I want to meet up," you typed and hit "send". the reply came almost immediately.

"I wasn’t planning to, but alright. meet you there in 10 minutes :)" you slipped your phone back into your jacket pocket and headed toward the entrance.

the stadium was already packed. you could see students from the other school finding their seats, and the cheer squad warming up. it brought back memories of your own attempts at dancing, and you felt grateful to be sitting down instead of bouncing around on the field. when Trish spotted you, she sat down beside you, and you hugged.

“so, how’s it going, gorgeous? what did you want to talk about?” Trish looked at you intently.

you leaned a little closer so the people around wouldn’t overhear. “I wanted to tell you about last night. about me and… Vi,” you said with a smile.

Trish squealed and grabbed your hand. “NO WAY!”

“shhh, Trish,” you whispered, noticing a few people glancing your way. “I don’t want everyone to know!”

“okay, okay, sorry," she said, unable to sit still. “start from the beginning. and I want all the details!” she winked at you.

you laughed and took her hand, pulling her away from the seats. once you were alone in the hallway, you began, “we spent the whole night together,” you whispered. Trish squeezed your hand, clearly wanting more.

“last night, I woke up thinking about us. I think she wanted to kiss me when she came in and gave me this,” you pointed to your neck, “but she didn’t, since you all called us into the living room,” you explained, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“my mouth! it never shuts up on time!” Trish slapped her hand over her lips. “sorry!”

“it’s fine…” you bit your lip. “when we were watching the movie, she put her hand on my knee. it felt like I was burning up inside. then we held hands, and she even kissed my neck.”

“I told you a movie was a good idea,” Trish laughed. “go on.”

“all evening, I kept catching her looking at me. it made me feel so good, knowing she was watching.” you smiled. “then when we went to bed, I touched her…” Trish’s eyes widened with excitement.

“and then what?” she could hardly wait.

“well, we finally kissed, one thing led to another, and… we had sex,” you said, blushing.

“AAAH! YOU DOG!” Trish started jumping up and down, holding onto your hand.

you both laughed, and you shared some more details, making Trish nearly faint.

“I can’t believe it… you guys had sex once, and you’re already glowing like this,” she said, clearly thrilled for you. her sincerity warmed your heart, and you felt grateful to have someone to share this with.

“who said it was only once?” you winked, making Trish squeal even louder. as you laughed and gossiped, the music at the stadium got louder.

“this conversation isn’t over - after the game, you’re giving me all the details from the beginning,” she said, pulling you toward the bleachers. as you turned the corner toward the stands, you saw Troy leaning against the wall. your stomach dropped when your eyes met.

“what are you doing here?” you asked him. Troy’s expression was unreadable, though one thing was clear - he was angry.

“I’m playing today, babe. but that’s a better question for you.” he started walking closer. “I thought I wouldn’t see you here again.”

“keep your distance,” Trish muttered through gritted teeth as he got too close.

“shut your mouth; I’m not talking to you,” he sneered at her and turned back to you.

“don’t talk to her like that! and don’t call me ‘babe,’” you spat, disgusted. “you lost that right when you shoved your dick down someone else’s throat.”

Troy just laughed. “maybe I wouldn’t have needed to if you’d given a better head,” he shrugged.

“you’re disgusting,” you said, deciding to walk past him and end the conversation, but he grabbed you by the elbow. a cold wave of fear ran through you, and suddenly, you couldn’t move.

“not so brave without your new girlfriend around? from what you told before, sounds like you enjoyed having a tongue shoved down your cunt. maybe that’s why you’re so terrible in bed,” he laughed in your face. you felt a lump form in your throat again, but you fought hard to keep the tears back.

"I’ll be taking this," he said, letting go of your arm and roughly yanking the necklace from your neck.

“no! give it back!" you tried to grab his hand, but he shoved you, and you fell.

“you’re such an idiot! get out of here!” Trish shouted, but her voice was barely audible over the music. she knelt next to you, asking if you were okay. you couldn’t answer, only clutching the spot on your neck where your pendant should have been.

“I’d ask you for a good luck kiss, but knowing where that mouth has been…” he laughed again and walked away.

tears streamed down your face as you struggled to process how someone you once trusted could act this way. all his insults, everything he said, built up into a panic attack. the walls around seemed to close in, and you couldn’t breathe. the only sound was your own heartbeat. Trish tried to comfort you, but nothing helped. you wanted to leave, but couldn’t even lift yourself off the floor. your mind raced, and the pressure in your chest grew with every second. in desperation, you hugged yourself, your fingers brushing against Vi’s jacket. finally, you took a deep breath; it felt like she was holding you as Trish gently stroked your back, and you slowly calmed down.

when you finally managed to stand, you glanced at Trish, who looked at you with deep concern.

dusting yourself off, you asked her for a tissue. after composing yourself, you said, “I’m fine.” Trish was about to protest, but you continued, “I want to watch the game. let’s talk about this later.” she nodded, and the two of you headed back to the stands.

your seats were taken, so you had to sit a little lower down. you didn’t like these spots, as they often ended with a ball flying into someone’s face, but you didn’t have a choice. you’d missed the cheerleaders’ performance but arrived just in time for the teams’ entrance. when both teams took to the field, you finally spotted Vi, she was like a breath of fresh air. she looked incredible; the soccer uniform accentuated her muscles, and her pink hair stood out beautifully among the other players. you saw her scanning the crowd, searching for you. you were relieved she hadn’t spotted you yet; you didn’t want her to see your red, tear-streaked eyes.

bright floodlights lit up the field, surrounded by rows of trees and bleachers filled with students, teachers, and parents. the stadium buzzed with excitement, and both teams looked ready to burst with energy before the starting whistle.

the opposing college’s team, known for their coach’s strategy of short, sharp passes, immediately focused on controlling the ball from the first seconds. their captain, a tall guy with a constant grin, confidently directed every movement of his teammates. they moved like a well-oiled machine, exchanging passes almost wordlessly. but your team lacked that cohesion: Josh was a rock, blocking their attack attempts, but with little success.

at one point, the midfield turned into a true battleground. when Troy intercepted the ball, the crowd erupted in applause and cheers of support. he sped forward, looking unstoppable, but as a defender from the opposing team closed in, Troy was supposed to pass, but he didn’t seem to see anyone around him, dribbling as though he were the only player on his team. when that same defender swiftly caught up and cleanly knocked the ball out of bounds, your team began yelling things at Troy - they were clearly frustrated.

the suspense was building. players from both teams took occasional sharp shots on goal, but the goalkeepers showed impressive reflexes, saving their nets. the spectators in the stands were relentless, cheering for their teams. the opposing side tried a shift in tactics, opting for long passes. finally, in one of these moments, a player from the other school found himself perfectly positioned and struck a powerful, precise shot into the corner of the goal. the ball floated mid-air, but Vi deflected it to the opposite side, saving the goal. you smiled and clapped.

you watched as someone from your team intercepted the ball, and with incredible speed, Vi was already open near the opposing goal. receiving the ball, she dribbled toward the goal, and here was the moment of truth - Vi was about to score. while all the fans watched closely, you saw Troy barreling toward the ball.

“what is he doing?” you saw him kick the ball out from under Vi, causing her to trip, and the whistle blew. “no!” you shot up from your seat, watching Vi try to get back on her feet, and the entire bleacher section went silent. when Vi finally stood, she stormed over to Troy.

“what the fuck are you doing?” she demanded, but he only smirked and walked away.

a minute later, the game resumed. the opposing team felt the advantage after what had happened, and their coach decided to go on the offensive, rearranging the players. their forward took a golden opportunity, entering the penalty area and, deceiving the defenders, struck directly into the corner of the goal. cheers, applause, and celebratory embraces followed on the field for the other team. you saw Josh talking to Vi; she just shook her head and walked away. as she made her way to her position, Troy waved to her, his face twisted in an ugly grin. you saw Vi tense. she wasn’t looking at him but at his hand - he had hung your necklace on his wrist. your eyes widened as Vi stormed over to him, grabbing his arm. amid the cheers from the crowd, you couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you saw Vi’s face redden with anger as she yanked your necklace away from him. she pushed him hard in the chest.

Vi began scanning the crowd and finally, your eyes met hers, her expression softening. you tried to smile, but tears started streaming down again. as you looked at each other, Troy leaned in and said something to Vi, making her turn sharply to him, grabbing his jersey.

“no, no, no,” you whispered, “Trish, this is exactly what he wants. she’ll be kicked off the team,” you said frantically, turning to your friend, but the coach stepped in just in time, pulling them apart and speaking to each of them. the game continued.

the game reached a new level of intensity: both teams played to the very end, fiercely defending their positions and waiting for the right moment. finally, your team had possession again, and when the pass went to Vi, she took control confidently. Troy no longer tried to interfere, and you thought maybe the coach had reprimanded him. a minute later, the ball was in the other team’s net, and you all erupted in cheers and applause. almost the entire team ran up to Vi, though she only nodded, not looking very pleased.

when the referee’s whistle signaled the end of the match, the field filled with applause and cheers from the spectators. both teams were exhausted, but everyone exchanged handshakes and hugs, knowing this was one of those games that would be remembered.

after the game, you said goodbye to Trish, promising to catch up later. you waited for Vi by her car in the parking lot, feeling restless.

“cupcake?” Vi called out to you. you turned to her and ran into her arms, sobbing. after today, there were no tears left in you. you held her tightly, and Vi wrapped her strong arms around you as you finally exhaled.

“it’s okay, don’t cry,” she said, cupping your face in her hands and wiping your tears. “what happened today?” she asked, worriedly. you told her everything, about your conversation with Trish, about how Troy had overheard you, pushed you, and taken your necklace. Vi stroked your hair, but you could feel her body tensing, her eyes blazing with anger.

“I’ll kill him,” she whispered, clenching her fist.

“oh really?” it was Troy.

“get in the car,” Vi handed you the keys and stood in front of you. across from her stood several guys - of course, Troy wouldn’t come alone; he was a coward.

“Vi, I don’t…” you tried to protest, but she just repeated herself.

you took the keys and did as she said. sitting inside, you watched what was happening.

“I just want to talk, Vi,” Troy raised his hands, “seems like you’re taking something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“belong?” she replied. “she’s a person, not a possession,” Vi’s fists remained clenched.

“alright, alright,” he started walking closer, and you tensed, grabbing your phone to call someone if needed. “but let’s be honest, used goods are never as good as new, right?” he glanced at you with a grin.

“if you’re talking about yourself, I agree,” she shot back.

“watch it, there’s more of us here!” he shouted, offended.

“it’s strange that you need half the team to meet with me,” Vi didn’t move an inch. “last time you were flat on the floor with a broken nose. want a repeat?”

Troy almost spat with rage as he lunged at Vi, but she grabbed his hand and shoved him away.

“does she still open her mouth when she cums?” the unexpected question rang in your ears, freezing time, and it felt like everyone stopped breathing. when an enraged Vi tried to lunge at Troy, the others grabbed her and held her back.

“let her go!” you shouted from the car, fear evident in your eyes.

“oh, don’t worry, babe, I’ll take care of this problem and then give you my full attention.” with those words, he started beating Vi with all his strength while the others held her.

you realized it was time to call for help, panicking as you dialed a number, not even sure whom you were calling, until you heard your dad's voice on the other end. you were so relieved to hear him. “daddy, Troy’s gone crazy, they’re beating Vi, and he’s threatening me. we’re in the parking lot. please help." you didn't catch what he replied because you were terrified by what you were seeing.

you looked back at the scene, watching with horror. you’d never witnessed such aggression in your life; Troy was hitting Vi with such force that his hand was red after just a few punches, hitting her head, her face. when he finally stopped, Vi muttered, "is that all you've got?"

infuriated, Troy swung again, but Vi dodged, and he ended up hitting another guy right in the nose. taking advantage of the moment, Vi broke free and landed a hard punch to Troy’s stomach. as he doubled over, she grabbed him by the shirt and slammed her fist into his cheek, throwing him back onto the pavement. he collapsed like a sack, writhing in pain.

“you idiots, is this what you wanted?!” Vi shouted at the others. they glanced at each other nervously. “get out of here while you still can!”

the guys scattered, not even checking on Troy. Vi finally turned to face you, and you gasped. her face was covered in blood, her lip split - it was horrific. you leapt out of the car and ran to her.

“you're safe, cupcake,” Vi whispered, reaching for your hand, her eyes unfocused. she handed you the necklace, and you started to cry.

“Vi, how are you feeling? can you hear me?" she swayed, and you realized how badly she was hurt.

“yeah, I just... feel a little...” her voice trailed off as she started to collapse, but you caught her, and you both sank to the ground.

“Vi!” you screamed, holding her bloody, unconscious form in your arms.

[ghettogirly]

Ok, What about armando aretas finding out you're pregnant with his baby. He found the stick (anywhere doesn't matter).

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍:

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

-> synopsis: what would armando be like if he found out you was pregnant?

-> theme: angst and fluff.

-> warnings: mention of abortion, mature language.

-> authors note: i’m currently posting this to keep you guys fulfilled while im working on some short stories. those take longer than these little headcanons so i apologise for the wait! hope you enjoy!! Let me know if you guys want a taglist as well.

[🕷️] 𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

-> 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 that you was pregnant about a week ago when you kept throwing up in the morning and was more light headed than usual.

-> telling your friends about your symptoms one day at brunch caused them all to look at you with widened eyes, their faces being explicit with the same expression. Fear.

-> “bitch, you’re pregnant.”

-> “what is armando going to think about this?”

-> what is armando going to think about this.

-> she was right.

-> you guys have never even discussed having kids before, both still being fairly young as you were under the age of 25.

-> you only worked in a cake shop as you was still a student, trying to finish your college degree.

-> the weight of your friends opinions dawned on you as you slowly sipped the lemonade you bought, the icy temperature of the drink awakening your nerves.

-> “fuck.”

-> 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂�� laid there on the marble countertop as both of your hands were rested by it side by side. Your hair hung down as you stared at it.

-> It was really true. You was pregnant.

-> The overwhelming thoughts clouded your mind, removing the ability for you to be happy about the idea of motherhood. Instead somber about this rude awakening. It wasn’t meant to happen now. Was it ever supposed to happen?

-> You and Armando never even spoke about the possibility of kids, just focusing on your free-spirited relationship as you both did whatever you pleased. Parties, meetings, the thrill of running from danger, running from law enforcement.

-> That was all going to change.

-> A wet feeling landed on your hand. Then another and another. It was teardrops. The transparent dots of water dropped onto your hand, staining them a little. Eventually an avalanche of tears would cascade down your face, causing you to uncontrollably sob as the obsessive thoughts became more and more out of control.

-> “Babe, ¿Estás aquí?”

-> Your eyes quickly widened as you heard a voice downstairs in the living room, the only man having that deep of a voice, your man. Armando. Quickly wiping your tears, you threw the stick into the bin next to the toilet, walking out of there as if nothing happened.

-> However, it was as if Armando sensed something was wrong. Not being a man of many words, he just simply raised his eyebrow at you, referencing for you to tell him what’s wrong. Yet, you just rolled your eyes and smiled. “Nothing is up.”

-> Still not satisfied he looked at you intensely, his face stoic as ever. Nevertheless, he left it alone and trusted you to tell him eventually. “Perdón por llegar tarde, estaba ocupado.”

-> You bring him into a hug, not caring about him being late. Just being happy he’s finally home. He wrapped his arms around you, engaging with the hug as his pointer finger tapped you gently on your back. That being a little thing he does, acknowledging how much he missed you.

-> 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃, you was passed out on the couch after watching a movie with Armando. Your empty takeout boxes being on the table.

-> Armando went upstairs to shower, allowing the water to cleanse not only his body but his mind too, the day for him being exhausting. He moved his hand to turn the water faucet off, his black hair being a wet mess, dripping slightly on his shoulders.

-> The male opened the shower door. Picking up the towel from the sink, he noticed something stand out from his peripheral vision. He moved his head slightly to turn towards the object that caught his attention, noticing a blue and white stick on top of the trash within the bin.

-> Peering down at it, he noticed it to be a pregnancy stick. “¿Qué es esto..?”

-> 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏, you notice Armando in front of you. Slamming the object down onto the table, he looked at you. Anger controlled every feature of his face as he stood there. Digusted.

-> “Espero que lo estés terminando.”

[🕷️] 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆:

-> 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑. You slowly sat up, facing him as his eyes were struck with concern. Still adjusting to reality, you rubbed your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

-> There he gently placed the stick on the table. Not saying a word, just looking back at you, waiting for you to lead the conversation. “I was going to tell you.”

-> “It was in the trash.”

-> You couldn’t object to that, he was right. You wasn’t really going to tell him, hoping that it was all just a lie and that the stick wasn’t even real. Hoping it was one big dream.

-> Looking at him solemnly, you felt your eyes welling up with tears the second time that day. This time, he didn’t say anything but embraced you into a hug instead, kissing your forehead.

-> “Enfermo nunca te dejan.. i would never abandon you.”

-> Those words were the music to your ears. “Damn these pregnancy hormones are annoying.”

[🕷️] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“¿Estás aquí?” : Are you here?

“Perdón por llegar tarde, estaba ocupado.” : Sorry for being late, i was busy.

“¿Qué es esto..?” : What is this?

“Espero que lo estés terminando.” : I hope you’re terminating it.

“Enfermo nunca te dejan..” : I’ll never leave you.

[ceoofsammonroe]

Wake the Dead - Sam Monroe Smut

Summary: You meet Sam during his shift at the local video store on a search for something to make you feel alive and decide to drag him to the old cemetery.

Warnings: sexual acts in an open grave, mentions of murder, talk of the dead, handjob (Sam receiving), public sex, fingering (reader receiving), defiling a gravesite, smoking, reader is kinda “manic-pixie-dreamgirl” coded my bad.

Masterlist

Sam Monroe hated his job.

Well, okay, maybe it wasn’t the worst in the world. He could’ve been made to wear a ridiculous uniform and flip burgers at the local diner down the street. Still, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be restocking the same ten family movies all day every day.

Nobody ever came into the video store for anything interesting. It was always middle-aged moms with their whiny children, asking him where some shit Disney film was located while giving him disapproving glares.

Sure, maybe he always had vulgar music blaring through the speakers while some gory slasher played on the television, but what did they expect? He’d drive a stake through his own eye before he’d be forced to listen to some nonsensical bullshit about princesses and happily ever after.

The new Deftones record was his current pick, the music filling the silence of the vacant store as he leaned against the counter and sorted through the returns.

The excruciating sound of the bell above the door chimed through the grunge rock, making Sam cringe and curse underneath his breath. He didn’t even bother turning around as he mumbled, “We’re closing in five minutes.”

“Guess I’d better get to looking quickly, then,” you said, shrugging and smiling to yourself at the grumpy store clerk. You could only see the back of him, but he piqued your interest.

The sound of your melodic voice made Sam’s ears perk up and he finally turned around. His eyes widened a bit at the sight of you, not expecting to see someone his age. Especially not someone so pretty.

Your eyes traveled over the length of him as he turned to face you. He was cute — in that “I’m a total punk” kind of way.

Sam’s throat felt scratchy as he swallowed, his tongue fiddling with his labret piercing. He quickly turned down the music, giving you a sheepish half-smile.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably as a flush creeped up his neck and said, “Yeah, I guess so. I can help you search for something. We have a pretty big selection, though, so you might have to narrow it down a bit.”

His eyes scanned the length of you, hoping against hope that you wouldn’t ask him for the romance section or something equally as disgusting. He knew you’d never been in this store before, at least not when he’d been working. He definitely would’ve remembered you.

“I’m looking for a good scare,” you said, hooking your thumbs through your belt loops as you grinned at him. “Something to really get your pulse racing, ya know?”

Sam’s eyes lit up with excitement as he beamed at you. You were hot and into horror? He nearly came in his pants right then and there.

“Well, the horror section is right over there,” he said, pointing over to the corner. “You like found footage? I’d recommend that if you wanna get a decent scare. Unscripted, unedited, pretty terrifying.”

“Ah, so you’re a Blair Witch kinda guy, huh?” you asked, your lips quirking up in amusement. “Good to know.”

Sam’s grin grew as he nodded and said, “The Blair Witch Project was groundbreaking for its genre. It really had the entire population convinced that they were watching these kids die right in front of their eyes.” He leaned forward against the counter, trying to play it cool as he added, “I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Monroe.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam Monroe,” you grinned, repeating his full name.

You couldn’t help but notice the soft blush on his face that brought out the bright blue of his eyes. The color nearly matched the vibrant streak in his black hair. He had the whole look going for him — the eyeshadow, the painted nails, the clunky rings.

Sam felt flustered under your gaze, shifting nervously as he asked, “So, you got a favorite horror flick, or is this your first time diving into the abyss?”

You smirked and said, “Ironically, considering your whole ‘what’s your favorite scary movie’ question, I’m a sucker for a good slasher. Scream, to be exact.”

“Scream, huh? Classic. You’ve got good taste,” he said, raising an impressed brow. He pushed off the counter, walking around to stand next to you. “Let me show you some of my favorites, then.” He walked toward the horror section, gesturing for you to follow. “You’ve got your classics like Nightmare on Elm Street and Halloween. Oh, but one of my favorites would have to be Saw. There’s something about the torture and games that just gets me.”

Sam’s hands gestured wildly as he spoke, his excitement evident in his eyes. His heart raced, both from his love of horror and from being so close to you. He searched one of the shelves before deftly flicking one of the cases out and holding it up for you.

“The original Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” he said, presenting it to you. “This one’s something else. Give it a watch. It’ll make your skin crawl.”

You stuffed your hands in your back pockets, shrugging coyly as you stepped closer to him.

“I saw the 25th Anniversary in theaters,” you smirked, beaming proudly.

Sam’s eyes widened and he whistled, impressed.

“Damn, you’re a true horror fan,” he nodded.

He nervously licked his dry lips, trying to think of something to say next.

“So, what do you think? Are you gonna pick up any of these tonight, or should I recommend something else?” Sam asked, his eyes searching your face as he hoped to find interest in his suggestions.

You leaned closer toward him, glancing down at his lips before grinning and reaching around him to grab a movie from the shelf.

Sam’s breath hitched, his eyes flickering down to your lips before following your gaze to the movie you pulled.

You held up a copy of Creep, waving it back and forth.

“Found footage, right?” you winked, turning around to walk back to the counter.

“Found footage, exactly,” he croaked out, releasing a shaky breath. “Good choice.”

He quickly followed after you, going back around the counter to ring you up. His fingers fumbled clumsily on the keyboard as he said, “Your total comes out to $4.50.” He took the money and handed you the bag with the movie inside. “If, uh, if you ever need more recommendations or anything, just let me know. I’ll be around.” He licked his lips, giving you a small smile as he added, “It was nice meeting you.”

You took the bag from him, letting your fingers brush against his as you did. You nodded with a smile and said, “You, too, Sam Monroe.”

You turned around and began walking toward the door, but you stopped short. You shifted back toward him, gazing at him curiously.

You cocked your head and asked, “You wanna get out of here?”

Sam’s eyes widened as his throat went dry. He nodded, vehemently, and said, “Uh, yeah. Sure.” He glanced up at the clock, grinning sheepishly. “We’re technically closed now, anyways.” His grin grew as he stepped away from the counter. “Just give me a second to lock everything up.”

You nodded and walked outside, leaning against the hood of his car as you lit a cigarette. You took a drag and exhaled the smoke into the air, leaning your head back with a sigh.

Sam quickly locked up, the bell above the door jingling as he stepped outside. He caught the sight of you sitting on the hood of his car, cigarette in hand, and thought he must be dreaming.

He walked over, his gaze drawn to your lips as he asked, “You smoke?”

You opened your eyes, gazing up at him as you blew a puff of smoke in his direction.

“No,” you grinned, bringing the cigarette back to your lips to take another drag.

Sam’s lips curved into a grin and he raised a brow as he said, “Liar.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing your face as he took the cigarette from your lips. He brought it to his mouth, taking a long drag before exhaling and handing it back.

“So, what do you want to do?” Sam asked, moving to lean on the hood next to you. “I know a few bars that are still open.”

“Bars are boring, Sam Monroe,” you groaned, dramatically, throwing your head back. You inhaled the smoke again, releasing it in a sigh as you looked up at the full moon. “Why do you think I showed up here tonight?”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head in confusion as he answered, “Because you wanted to rent a horror movie?”

He took another drag from the cigarette, his curious gaze never leaving your face.

“That’s just the surface of it,” you told him, turning your head to face him. “I wanted something that could make me feel alive. I wanted to feel a spike of adrenaline, to get my pulse racing. A horror movie is a quick, easy fix — but a night of spontaneity with a stranger? That’s the ultimate risk to take.”

Sam’s heart thudded in his chest, his mind racing as he stammered, “Y-you want to take a risk with me?” He swallowed, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers. “Where do you want to go?”

His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge your intentions, but the excitement bubbling within him was undeniable.

You grinned, taking the cigarette back from him and drawing in one final breath before putting it out with your foot against the pavement.

“C’mon, Sam Monroe,” you said, grabbing his keys out of his hand and walking to the driver’s side of his car. “I know just the place.”

Sam blinked in a daze as he watched you get into his car. He walked, dumbfounded, to the passenger seat, climbing in as he gazed at you.

“Lead the way,” he said, shrugging as he shook his head with a small laugh.

You flicked on the radio as you pulled out of the parking lot, a low grungy melody playing through the speakers.

“Tell me, Sam Monroe,” you began, reaching over to play with the rings on his fingers, “why do you like horror movies?”

Sam’s breath hitched and he glanced down at his hand. Your fingers felt soft against his skin and he cleared his throat as he glanced back up at the road.

“Horror movies are about more than just gore and jump scares. They’re about the human condition. They’re about fear itself, a primal state, and there’s something so raw and real about that.” He looked over at you a smile tugging at his lips. “The adrenaline, the suspense, the sense of danger…it’s all just an escape for me. A way to feel something real when everything else around me feels so fake.”

“Spoken like a tried and true broody punk,” you grinned, glancing over at him. “I get it, though. Sometimes you’ll do anything just to feel something.”

“I guess so,” he shrugged. “It’s better than feeling nothing, right?” He leaned back in his seat, watching the passing streetlights. “So, what about you? What gets your heart racing?”

“Picking up random strangers from sketchy video stores, obviously,” you joked, trailing your fingers up and down his arm.

Sam smiled, looking away as a blush tinged his cheeks.

“This place you’re taking me to,” he said, glancing back at you, “is it a secret or can I know where we’re going?”

“See for yourself,” you smirked, pulling off the road and parking the car. You turned the lights off and got out, walking around to where Sam stood by the passenger side. “C’mon, this way.”

You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his as you led him through a small trail in the woods. As you walked through the clearing, a grin pulled at your lips at the sight of an old, dark cemetery.

Sam followed, his heart pounding as his eyes darted around the darkness. He swallowed thickly, squeezing your hand a little tighter as he stared up at the rusted gates, warily.

“A cemetery?” Sam questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a deep breath before steeling himself and nodding. “Alright. I’ve never been one to turn down a dare.”

“That’s the spirit,” you grinned, tugging him further inside. You winked at him, pulling him closer to you as you whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the scary ghosts.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sam smirked, feeling his heart stutter as he was pulled into you. “So, what do we do in a place like this?”

His eyes took in the graves, the headstones, the darkness encompassing you. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine as he leaned closer to you, seeking comfort.

You pulled out a small flashlight and turned it on, shining it on the headstones. You saw one that called to you and you drug him towards it, reading the engravings.

Sam followed, his eyes drawn to the flashlight beam. When you stopped at the grave, he crouched down to get a better look.

Mary Hester

1934-1976

“What do you think her story was?” you asked Sam, nudging his shoulder.

“Who knows?” Sam shrugged. “Maybe she was a victim of murder. Or maybe she was the killer,” he mused, a grin playing at his lips. He glanced up at you and asked, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you smirked, leaning forward to dust off the stone. “There’s no way that death is just a done deal, especially if you had unresolved dealings left on earth.”

Sam nodded, listening as he picked at some moss stuck in the writing.

“Besides,” you sighed, staring at the engraving, “if my entire life was reduced to a tiny dash between dates, I’d haunt the shit out of this world, too.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, standing up and brushing off his jeans. “I guess we’ll never know until we reach the other side, huh?”

You laughed and shook your head, pulling him off to venture further through the old graves.

As you walked through the cemetery, occasionally stopping to check out the headstones, you kept spouting off different theories and stories of these lives past lived.

Your eyes widened as you saw a fresh pile of dirt near an open hole, and you pulled Sam toward it.

“Holy shit,” you gaped, looking down at the six-foot rectangular hole in the ground. “It’s a freshly dug grave.”

“That’s…that’s morbid,” Sam shivered, leaning closer as his curiosity got the best of him. “Do you think it’s for a new burial?” His grip tightened on your hand and he glanced around, his eyes flickering between the trees and the graves. “We should probably get out of here.”

“What’s wrong? Scared?” you teased, inching closer toward the grave. You shined your flashlight down into it, seeing nothing but dirt. “Relax, there’s nothing in it.”

“I’m not scared,” he scoffed, though his voice shook as he spoke. “I just don’t wanna get caught trespassing.”

He stepped closer, his eyes following yours as you shined the light into the grave. When he saw it was empty, he let out a sigh of relief and loosened his grip on your hand.

“Let’s go before someone sees us,” Sam said, tugging on your arm.

“Live a little, Sam Monroe,” you laughed, squeezing his hand playfully. “We’re not gonna get caught—”

You stopped mid-sentence, seeing the lights on a police car slowly patrolling the cemetery.

“Shit,” you cursed, smiling amusedly. “Spoke too soon, I guess. Hurry, let’s hide.”

You pulled him toward the vacant grave, crouching down before jumping into the hole.

Sam’s eyes widened, his heart racing wildly as he looked between the grave and the police car. He held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he jumped into the grave after you. You turned off the flashlight, bathing the two of you in darkness as you pulled him close to hide.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “I can’t believe we just did that. Do you think they’ll search the graves?”

“Not a chance,” you laughed, breathlessly, as you felt your adrenaline pumping. You placed your hand on his chest, grinning as you said, “You feel that? Feel how your heart is racing? It’s crazy. The irony of feeling so alive while standing in an open grave.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of exhilarating,” Sam breathed, his bright eyes never leaving yours. “Now what? Do we wait for the coast to be clear, or do we climb out and hope they don’t see us?”

You gazed up at him, biting your lip as you studied his face in the pale blue moonlight. You tugged on his arm, pulling him closer until his body was pressed against yours.

“Tell me, Sam Monroe,” you said, your voice low and playful. “Have you ever kissed someone in a cemetery?”

“Uh, can’t say I have,” he said, swallowing thickly as he released a shaky breath. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips as he added, “I guess there’s a first time for everything, right?”

“Right you are, Sam Monroe,” you grinned, gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him down to you.

You pressed your lips against his in a steady, sure kiss, letting one hand trail up to the back of his head.

Sam’s lips met yours eagerly, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him as the kiss deepened.

He moaned against your lips, the taste of you intoxicating him. He broke the kiss, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

“I think we should climb out of here,” he whispered. “We could get caught down here.”

“That’s half the fun,” you smirked, pushing him back against the wall of dirt and kissing him again.

You moved your hands underneath his shirt, feeling the taught skin of his abdomen as you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth.

Sam groaned, his lips parting as his mind grew hazy with lust. He didn’t protest any further, his body arching into your touch as he kissed you, hungrily.

You moved your hands up to his chest, kissing across his jaw. You nipped at his earlobe before trailing open-mouth kisses down his neck.

“What do you say, Sam Monroe?” you breathed, trailing your tongue along his pulse point. “Wanna defile a grave?”

Sam’s breath hitched and he bit his lip, gripping your hips tighter. He tilted his head back as you kissed his neck, breathing out a soft moan.

“I…I’ll defile a grave for you,” he nodded, swallowing thickly.

His body was trembling with adrenaline and desire. He wanted nothing more than for you to keep touching him, the fear of being caught a distant thought.

“Good,” you grinned, leaning forward to kiss him again.

You let your tongue push past his lips, exploring his mouth as a soft moan sounded from your throat. You pulled him away from the wall of dirt, turning the two of you around so that you were the one pressed against it.

Sam’s moan echoed your own as his hand roamed over your body, his tongue tangling with yours. He stumbled back, allowing you to turn the both of you around, his body following your lead.

“Kinda poetic, isn’t it?” you panted, breaking the kiss to look up at him. “Performing a ritual of fertilization in the place where the dead will be laid to rest?”

“I’m all for some poetic justice tonight,” he breathed, leaning in to claim your lips again.

You could feel your heart pumping as you kissed him, fueling that need for something to make you feel alive.

You bit down on his bottom lip, soothing it with your tongue as you slid your hand down over his jeans to cup his erection.

Sam gasped against your lips, a needy groan sounding from his throat as he pressed his hips into your hand.

You reached down and undid the button of his jeans, lowering the zipper and pushing the material down his thighs. You pulled him out of his boxers, slowly stroking him as you grinned at his impressive size.

Sam whimpered as he felt your soft hand wrap around him, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Oh…” he moaned, dragging his teeth over his piercing as he looked at you with hooded eyes. “I need you.”

“Yeah?” you breathed, squeezing your fist around him as you stroked him faster. You swiped your thumb across his sensitive tip to gather the precum that had beaded there, causing him to hiss.

Sam’s hips bucked into your touch, his body trembling with desire. He gripped your hair, his head spinning with pleasure as he whispered, “Fuck, yes. Please.”

You used your free hand to guide his fingers to the button of your jeans, smirking at him as you continued to touch him. You leaned forward and kissed his neck again, sucking a sensitive spot until it left a deep purple mark against his pale skin.

His fingers fumbled with your jeans as you sucked on his neck, a groan escaping his lips as he tried to undress you.

“Touch me, Sam,” you panted, squeezing him tighter as you let your tongue trail up his neck, stopping to kiss the spot just beneath his ear.

“Anything for you,” he breathed, reaching his hand inside of your underwear to touch you. He moaned as his fingers made contact with your slick folds, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispered, “You’re so wet, fuck.”

You let out a soft moan into his ear, arching into his touch as he teased you. You grabbed his face and turned him back to you, kissing him with fervor as you stroked him.

“I guess cemeteries really do it for me,” you joked, laughing into the kiss.

“Mm, definitely,” he groaned, his hips bucking into your fist.

His fingers slid inside of you as his thumb stroked your clit, his free hand grabbing your leg and hiking it around his waist.

You whimpered, quietly, against his lips — his fingers striking all of the right chords. You used one hand to tug on his hair while the other moved faster over his length.

Sam moaned loudly, his breath hitching as his hips stuttered.

“Shh,” you grinned, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. “You’ll wake the dead.”

“I don’t care about the dead right now,” he breathed, leaning in to kiss your neck as he curled his fingers inside of you.

You tilted your head back, moaning as you rocked your hips against his fingers. You held his head as you stroked him, twisting your fist over his tip each time.

Sam’s eyes rolled back as he moved his fingers faster, repeatedly brushing against that perfect spot inside of you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he whispered, “I’m close. I’m so fucking close.”

“Me too,” you whimpered, feeling that knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. The adrenaline was coursing through your veins, your heart racing as you chased the edge together. “Come with me. Let’s make these souls roll in their graves.”

“Fuck, yes, I’m right there,” he panted, moaning against you as he neared the precipice. He flicked his thumb in fast circles against your clit, his voice breaking off into a string of whimpers as his hips bucked. “I’m gonna…fuck.”

You pulled his head back, looking into his eyes as the band finally snapped. You clenched around his fingers just as his release spurted out of him and onto your hand. He voiced a strangled moan as he came, working you through your own high as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

You both milked every last drop from each other, your bodies sagging together as you came down.

Sam leaned against you, panting heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. You leaned back against the wall of dirt, grinning lazily as you said, “Well, that was a much better method of getting my heart racing.”

He trailed small kisses up your neck before kissing your lips softly as he whispered, “I’m glad I could make your heart race.”

You smirked up at him, bringing your hand up to your mouth to lick his release off of it. He watched with lust-blown eyes, biting his lip. You grabbed his hand, pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them up to your lips as well. You opened your mouth, sucking around them and moaning at the taste.

You pulled him into another kiss, letting him taste your combined flavor on your tongue. He groaned into your mouth, pulling you close to him.

You broke the kiss, glancing up out of the grave.

“I think the cops are gone now,” you giggled, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Good,” he grinned, laughing softly. “Let’s get out of here.”

He gave you a boost before climbing out as well, the both of you brushing the dirt off and adjusting your clothes. You walked back through the trail in the woods hand in hand, strolling peacefully in the moonlight.

When you got back to his car, you tossed him his keys back with a grin and got into the passenger side. He laced his fingers with yours as he drove back toward the video store, occasionally bringing the back of your hand up to his lips.

“This has got to be the strangest night I’ve ever had,” he laughed, softly.

“You’ll never forget it, though, will you?” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

Sam shook his head, smiling as he said, “Never.”

He pulled back into the parking lot of the store, dimly lit by the flickering sign. He parked the car, turning toward you with a tender look.

You leaned forward and softly whispered, “Thanks for making me feel alive, Sam Monroe.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he felt your lips press against his.

“Anytime,” he whispered. “Can I get your name—?”

He opened his eyes, but you were no longer there. He glanced around, frantically, trying to see where you could’ve gone.

It was only then that he realized that his car had been the only one in the parking lot the entire night.

[nobodysdaydreams]

I’ve seen a lot of posts about how “no one mourns the Wicked” is actually about Galinda, but I’ve been listening to it again, and I gotta say, I think the song is actually about the Wizard with rather dark implications.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Galinda thinks and believes it’s about her. But Galinda became good in the end, she was Elphaba’s friend, Elphaba and Fiyero miss her, and Galinda has friends in Oz, the musical ends with one of Elphaba’s flying monkeys getting the ability to talk to her and Galinda can help them now. She’s mourning Elphaba, and she might be alone in that, but in other respects, she isn’t alone or dead or wicked or forgotten.

The same cannot be said of the Wizard. “The Wicked’s lives are lonely” is very much about him. Even at the height of his power, he had to isolate himself so that no one could see he was a fraud. When Elphaba threatened him, he became paranoid and spent his days in isolation and fear. Whereas Galinda, even at her worst and limited power, has always been well known. The Wizard has left Oz, and the people don’t seem to question it because they have Galinda now, and they know Galinda and they love Galinda, while the Wizard was more an idea than a man. He never visited them, he never did what Galinda does for them. No one misses him, why would they? Galinda fills his role, what little of it there was, a thousand times over. The lyric “no one cries they won’t return” fits the Wizard best, not Galinda. People are thrilled to see her, and don’t seem to care that he’s gone, while Galinda cries for Elphaba.

Also “the wicked cry alone” applies to the Wizard too, when he mourns Elphaba. Yes, Galinda technically mourns for her alone too, but at least Galinda has the Animals, the few that can still say some words. The Wizard cries, but Galinda doesn’t cry with him, because the Wizard is crying over his own actions as well as her death, and Galinda has no sympathy for him, no one does, and that’s his own fault for making them hate Elphaba. Also the song says “Nothing grows for the wicked, they reap only what they’ve sown” and the story that Galinda tells during the song isn’t her and Elphaba’s story (that’s later), but Elphaba’s and her father’s story, specifically, how the Wizard brought about Elphaba’s existence and set himself on this path. Galinda asks if people are born wicked or have it thrust upon them, which is ironic because the Wizard is the reason Elphaba was born AND why she was vilified.

Then we have “no one lays a lily on their grave” and “the wicked die alone”. I’ve pointed this out in other posts, but it’s never confirmed in any or at least most versions of Wicked/Wizard of Oz source material that the Wizard makes it home or has any way to do so. I’m not sure what the movie is gonna do about this, or if they’ll attempt to repair the balloon or heavily imply he dies, but the Wizard dying alone in his grief and no one missing him while instrumentals of “no one mourns the wicked” play in the background certainly takes care of that problem.

Also “woe to those who spurn what goodness is, they are shown” also applies to the Wizard. He has a whole song in part 2 about goodness being a matter of perception and rejects Elphaba’s plea to help the Animals. He vilifies her goodness and believes, truly, that he is the hero because he has declared himself so, and that he is a good “father to the nation” because he declared it. He makes himself the subjective decider of goodness. It’s only in the end, when he realizes what he’s done to Elphaba that he has regrets and begins to see and understand the evil he has done. Elphaba is what he “misses when he’s misbehaved” as the song says, and although none of the villagers know that, Galinda witnessed it and knows that the Wizard missed the opportunity to be a father, which was all he claimed to ever want. It’s a missed opportunity, information he would not have been missing and discovered earlier had he acted differently, and “missed” in the sense that he misses the daughter he threw away.

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (10)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: she finds herself as a pivotal lead in the case. wc: 4k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide

a/n: I’m so sorry this took so long. I realize I’m not smart enough to be writing a crime-mystery plot so this went through a lot of editing😭

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

Y/N NEVER THOUGHT SHE WOULD SPEND HER MORNING THIS WAY, the unfamiliarity of this foreign place had her questioning how her life turned out the way it did. Becoming a witness to a heinous crime was already overwhelming enough for her, and now sitting in this cold, empty interrogation room was making her lose her mind.

She had never thought of being in this situation—a scenario that solely belonged to crime novels and thrilling movies. Yet, here she was, feeling more uncomfortable as time passed by. She slowly glanced toward the two-way mirror and the thought of watchful eyes observing her every movement intensified her discomfort, leaving her feeling judged and exposed. But above all that, there was one question that seemed to float at the top of her head.

Was Spencer there?

She heaved out a sigh. The one time she allowed herself to indulge further with her one-night-stand, it didn’t go the way she expected. She had thought that maybe—maybe—opening her heart was something she could try again. After a long time of not wanting to be romantically involved with anyone, waking up in his bed hadn’t seemed so bad...

Now it was just wishful thinking, her past naive self becoming a mockery to her now.

She was engrossed in her own thoughts when the door to her left suddenly creaked, drawing her attention, and she couldn't stifle the disbelief laugh slipping through her mouth.

"Out of all the agents in this building and they decided to send you?" She wondered as Spencer cautiously walked into the room with a file in his hand. "Isn't this against the rules?"

"What is?" He asked, pulling out the chair across from her.

"Questioning someone you know personally."

He regarded her with a look she couldn't quite decipher. Something about him seemed so different, it was baffling how someone could change so drastically in such a short period. Last night he had been sweet, attentive, and full of affection. But now, as she looked at him, it was as if he had morphed into a completely different person. The warmth that had once radiated from his eyes was replaced by a distant, guarded gaze.

Spencer Reid and Doctor Reid were really two different people.

"My personal matters won't intervene in the work I do."

"Somehow I doubt that," she murmured, watching as he sat down. She leaned back and crossed her arms. If he was going to act like they hadn't spent the night sleeping on the same bed, she might as well give him the same reserved attitude. "So, what now? Are we going to continue where we left off?"

"Actually, there's something else I'd like to know." He pushed the folder in his hand across the table and opened it. "I'm aware that you were associated with Harvey Webb?"

What the—

A sudden chill ran down her spine as the name slipped from his mouth. It was the last person she wanted to remember, a name she had fought so hard to push into the depths of her subconscious. But now it all came rushing back, threatening to engulf her in a wave of memories. She saw glimpses of piercing eyes that held malice, a voice dripping with menace, and a presence that loomed like an ominous shadow.

As she laid her eyes upon the files in front of her, a shiver coursed through her body. The face that stared back at her from the photograph was etched with lines of time. His eyes, once filled with unsettling intensity, now bore the weight of years gone by, their depths guarded and inscrutable.

"Why are you showing me this?" She asked quietly, trying to think of any possible reason why she was forced to recall her past.

"Did you know him?"

With a hesitant pause, she uncrossed her arms. "I did."

"And how did you know him?"

"He—" she stopped, trying to decide how to describe the nature of her relationship with that awful, dreadful man, and finally responded with, "He was my landlord."

"Was that all there is? Was your relationship with him simply one between a landlord and a tenant?"

She met his gaze. "What are you trying to imply?"

"One of our agents visited his wife before this."

Oh.

This was probably why he seemed so guarded, his words laced with a hint of something familiar yet unspoken. She was sure he already knew what happened. It was in the way he carefully chose his phrases, the slight pause that followed, and the knowing glimmer in his eyes that gave it away. But even when the buried memories were fighting to resurface in her head, a sense of unease gripped her. Why was he delving into her past?

"Why are you—" She shook her head. "What does he have to do with the current case?"

There was a pause before Spencer replied, "We believe he might be a link to the investigation."

She narrowed her eyes. "How?"

The room suddenly fell into an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the quiet hum of tension that seemed to hang in the air. Their eyes locked.

"Let's make a deal," he suggested. "If you answer all the questions I have for you, I'll tell you what you want to know."

She considered his words and slowly nodded. "Fine," she agreed. "But you probably know who he was to me if one of your agents had already questioned Mrs. Webb."

"I want to hear it from you."

The weight of her past bore down upon her, pressing against her conscience. She understood, with unwavering certainty, that the time had come to lay bare the chapters of her history that she had kept hidden. With a breath that carried the weight of her past, she finally mustered the courage to speak her truth.

"Harvey and I had an affair."

A subtle change swept across his face as her words hung in the air. His expression remained stoic, a reflection of the knowledge he carried within him. She wasn't sure how much he already knew, but she continued.

"It wasn't my proudest moment," she admitted. "I was young, it was my first time in the city and I got this great apartment at an affordable price. Harvey helped me when I moved in so we talked a lot back then and easily became friends. He eventually mentioned how his divorce had gotten to him very badly, and I... I guess I took pity on him."

"He told you he was divorced?"

"Yeah, he told me the property that he owned, this apartment building of his, was the only asset he got for their divorce settlement. I was too young and naive to even consider he could be lying, I guess I was too smitten by the attention he constantly gave me."

"How long did it happen?"

"A couple of months. It wasn't until he kept on disappearing that I started to suspect him. He said he had to go out of town for his work, but curiosity got the better of me and I decided to follow him one day." She gave him a pointed look. "Turned out he wasn't leaving town, he was going back home to his wife and kids."

"What happened then?"

"I confronted him about it..." Her body shifted uncomfortably. "That was when I realized how messed up he really was."

"What do you mean?"

"Harvey was a manipulative son of a bitch." He raised his eyebrows at her choice of words, which she shrugged in return. There really was no other way to describe him. "It was as if a switch had turned inside him the moment I confronted his lies. He became overbearing, controlling, possessive, and just—he became someone I was very afraid of."

He studied her closely, trying to decipher the unspoken layers of her narrative, the nuances hidden beneath the surface. "Did he ever hurt you?"

“Physically? No—well, there was this one time he got physical when he got so mad, but that was it," she confessed as her past flashed through her mind. "Although mentally, he was draining me. He would often threaten to harm me, or himself, if I ever left him. I think he was also diagnosed with a lot of mental disorders."

"Was his wife aware of everything happening?"

She nodded. "One day I visited their house when he wasn't home and confronted her about everything. Instead of blaming her husband's questionable behavior, she blamed me for ruining their marriage and started calling me a slutty home wrecker."

"Did he find out about this?"

"Yes," she replied. "He was not happy about it."

"And how did you get out of that situation?"

"I got accepted for the current job I work at now."

"He was fine with that?"

"I didn't tell him about it." She looked down, her gaze focusing on her hands sitting in her lap. "I had to move my things secretly whenever he went home to his family. When most of the stuff I needed was secured at my new place, I finally left, changed my number, and never looked back."

"You never saw him again after that?"

"The next time I heard of him was his own obituary printed on the paper." As the weight of her past slipped into the open, exhaustion suddenly settled over her. Her gaze then flickered toward the files on the table. "Now will you tell me how he's linked to the case?"

Spencer’s attention was completely focused on her, analyzing every detail of her movements. He paid close attention to the way she shifted in her seat, the way she blinked, and the way she tilted her head. "Were you aware of how he died?"

"Yes, he... he hurt himself."

Spencer shook his head, the lines on his forehead etched themselves deeper, highlighting the concentration etched upon his features. He leaned forward, his movements deliberate and controlled, as he turned the files over, taking out a few pictures before presenting them in front of her. "We believe his death was a homicide."

"What?" Her eyes widened in surprise as she gazed at the collection of photographs spread out before her. She should be appalled by the amount of blood seen in the shots, but her eyes darted across the blotched writing carved along the bruised skin. "Something was written on his arm?"

"You didn't know?"

"Of course not, why should I know of this?" She glanced up and was taken aback when she noticed the same doubt on his face she saw this morning. Her heart sank as the realization washed over her like a chilling wave. "You're still pining me down as a suspect."

"Your personal connections to all three victims have raised some concerns," he pointed out, voice carrying a controlled intensity, each word measured and deliberate. "And what's even more concerning is that they all had somehow wronged you in the past."

She suddenly felt a surge of anger as he leveled his accusations. Her lips thinned into a tight line, and her eyes narrowed as all her frustration and tension bubbled over. "I had nothing to do with their deaths."

"So it's a coincidence that they all suffered the consequences of their actions that affected you directly?"

"Just because I had issues with them doesn't mean I'd resort to murder," she spat. "Why are you so persistent in painting me as a suspect?"

"Your past grievances with these victims paint the picture." Spencer leaned forward, his palms pressed firmly against the cool surface of the table. His eyes, narrowed with determination, locked onto hers with palpable intensity. "Tell me, do you have an alibi for the times of their deaths?"

She leaned forward and held his gaze, not wanting to back down. "I'm not responsible for any deaths, so no, I don't have an alibi for something I didn't do."

"That's a very vague answer."

"You don't say?" She responded sarcastically. "Are you going to dump me with facts on how my body language is being defensive right now?"

"Would it help you to answer my questions clearly?"

She felt her patience breaking. She had been doing her best to remain calm and collected, but as his gaze remained fixed on her and he continued judging her with that harsh stare, she finally snapped.

"You know what, you want an alibi? I'll give you a damn alibi."

The tension she had been holding in her body suddenly exploded. With every inhale, her chest tightened, a reservoir of pent-up emotions yearning for release. And then, like an unleashed storm, she let it all pour forth.

"According to his obituary, Harvey Webb's death happened on Halloween and that was when I attended this stupid party held at the office. I was in the parking lot when Jamison called for my help before I scurried back only to witness his death. And don't get me started on Kevin Marshall."

She steadied her gaze on him.

"I studied his files for work so I'm aware of the time frame when it happened, and for someone with an eidetic memory, you sure had forgotten where I was that night so let me help you jog your memory back, Doctor Reid, because I spent the night in your bed before you fucking kicked me out the door!"

A heavy silence settled upon them only to be broken by her labored breathing and the pounding of her heart.

Had she really said that?

Y/n was never one with a foul mouth, but with the way the cuss word flew out of her lips in the heat of the moment, it was clear to her how furious she was. Although she did feel a sense of relief as if a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders after speaking her truth... But at what cost?

The room seemed to hold its breath, suspended in a fragile stillness, as his eyes locked onto hers. The weight of her words settled between them, casting a heavy shadow in the room. And there he sat, frozen in the moment, his face etched with shock and surprise. His mouth opened and closed, but no words emerged, as if the force of her words had momentarily robbed him of his ability to respond.

She wondered what was going through his mind right now. Was he processing her words, attempting to unravel the layers of her frustrations? Or was he grappling with his own emotions, struggling to find the right words to respond?

And suddenly she couldn't take it anymore, feeling an overwhelming sense of exhaustion washing over her. All of the emotions unleashed during her frustrated rant had left her feeling drained. Every fiber of her being ached for respite and seeing him again felt like an additional burden she wasn't ready to bear. So she let her eyes fall on the two-way mirror, focusing in nowhere particular.

"I want to request another agent in here."

She noticed the way his shoulders tensed from the corner of her eyes but decided to ignore it, keeping her gaze on her reflection instead. And just as she was about to accept the fact that nobody was going to listen to her, the sound of the door opening echoed throughout the space, its noise cutting through the silence.

A dark-haired woman stood by the entry, her hand gripping the door as she focused her attention on the only man in the room. "Dr. Reid, I can take it from here."

The weight of the situation suddenly settled him. He studied the woman sitting across from him who was trying to maintain her control. But beneath it all, he saw the cracks in her facade, the vulnerabilities concealed beneath her frustration. It became clear that her actions, though seemingly distant and cold, were rooted in a desperate attempt to protect herself from further hurt.

And he was responsible for it all.

With a heavy sigh, Spencer finally rose from his seat, the chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. His mind was telling him he was only doing his job, yet his heart was pointing out the unfairness of his judgment of her. And for the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do.

"There you are," Emily announced, walking into the meeting room as she spotted Spencer standing by the large board adorned with webs of information, his back facing her. "Are you okay?"

Spencer turned around and regarded her with a sigh. "No."

She gave him a sad smile. "She left already." Then she crossed her arms, studying the way his expression fell at the mention of the woman she had questioned for the past hour. "Do you really think she has anything to do with the case?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, then shook his head, his shoulders dropping at the revelation of his words. "No."

"Then why were you being so hard on her?"

"I... I don't know."

As her gaze focused on his face, she observed the flash of vulnerability that briefly danced across his features. His eyes darted away, evading direct contact, betraying a flicker of unease that she couldn't ignore.

"I think you do," she noted. "I think you have this logic in your head that if she had something to do with the case, you'd have a reason to stop getting involved with her. But now that you know she's innocent, you think it's too complicated to harbor your feelings after the way you accused her. "

He drew his eyes back to her. "I thought we agreed not to profile each other."

"I wouldn't consider this profiling when you literally have your heart on your sleeves."

He let out a sigh, his voice trembling as he mustered the courage to acknowledge the truth of his actions and the pain he had caused. "What should I do?"

"You're asking the wrong person for relationship advice here," Emily remarked. "But what I do know is that if you wronged someone, you apologize."

But was it enough? Was apologizing to her enough to compensate for the hurt he had put her through?

Guilt has a funny way of coming after the moment has passed, like a relentless pursuer in the shadows of our conscience. Right now it was sneaking up on him, resurfacing with a relentless grip on his emotions. After he left the room, he got inside the small space behind the two-way mirror, continuing his job as an observer instead of the one questioning her.

Hotch had looked at him pointedly when he stepped to his side, and although his boss kept his mouth close the entire time, Spencer knew he was secretly assessing him with judgment. Especially when, after observing Y/n behind the glass, it was clear that she wasn't a suspect. He saw the scars of his misjudgment etched upon her face and the guardedness in her eyes.

It took him as an observer to comprehend she was innocent, that the darkness he had attributed to her was merely a reflection of his misguided assumptions. But it was too late now. He had allowed his biases to cloud his judgment, staining their relationship—or the potential of it anyway—with a hue of mistrust that was now difficult to wash away.

"I don't think she'll ever forgive me," he admitted, feeling dejected.

"Reid, you haven't even tried, and even if she won't, I'm sure you'll find a way to fix it." As the weighty words of their conversation hung in the air, a playful spark suddenly ignited in her eyes. "So."

Her teasing look cut through the tension, catching him off guard. "What?"

"I didn't know you had a girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," he quickly responded.

"After all that tension between you two and you're still denying it?"

"She's—" he stopped. "I'm not sure what we are, honestly."

Emily let out a soft chuckle. "Well, any type of relationships are complicated. That's why I don't bother with them anymore." Her eyes then shifted behind him, noticing the numbers written on the board that wasn't there the last time she was here. "What do you have there?"

Spencer let out a sigh of relief. Her request to shift the conversation to something else offered him a lifeline, a respite from the vulnerability of delving into his own feelings. A flicker of gratitude flashed in his eyes as he realized that she had unknowingly granted him an escape from his discomfort.

"I did the geographical profiling and these numbers are each respective coordinates of the location where all the victims were found." Emily nodded and he continued, "Basically, I did a coordinate rounding to eliminate the decimals until I come up with two digits for each location."

"And you think these numbers mean something?"

"They must. Here, take a look at this." He motioned her to step closer toward the round table before showing her the map he had drawn over with his handwriting, highlighting three precise locations that formed a triangle. "Even when Harvey Webb wasn't found at his house, he was found at his apartment which was technically his second residence. The same goes for Kevin Marshall, his body was found at home."

Then he pointed at one of the marks located at the top of the map.

"But Jamison Lynch was found at his workplace. The Unsub must have a reason to commit the crime six blocks away from his house."

Emily scanned the map before turning her attention back to the board. "So these numbers represent each location? Eleven is the first victim's residence, ninety-one is the second victim's workplace, and nineteen is the third victim's apartment?"

"Precisely."

"You know," she started, head tilted to the side and eyes piercing onto the numbers presented before her. "The third victim is technically the first victim if you consider the timeline."

As her words lingered in the air, a spark of realization ignited within him. It was as if a puzzle piece he had been searching for had finally fallen into place. "Wait." He walked over and grabbed the marker by the table. "You're right."

Emily watched as he rearranged the line of numbers.

19 91 11

"Does that mean anything to you?"

But Spencer couldn't hear her, his head was already turning its gear as shreds of evidence he had gathered these past few days swarmed his mind. "The Unsub has the same MO in all the victims and they're fixated using verses from the bible so if those numbers have an indication of that conviction then the first two digits could be the number of The Old Testament which means—"

He quickly wrote down his next words.

"Psalm 91:11," Emily read out.

"For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways,"Spencer recited. "That's it—a guardian angel."

Emily's eyes widened as she stared at the revelation before her. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, revealing a connection that had eluded her grasp until now. It was as if a veil had been lifted, granting them to reshape the narrative of the case.

"Y/n isn’t the killer," she mumbled, turning her head towards him. "She's being protected."

He returned her gaze with the same disbelief.

"Someone else is doing it for her."

>> NEXT PART

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[thirtysomethingloser92]

Yooo. Amazing Gambit writing. 💕 Sooooo I was thinking. I’m feral for the new movie Gambit, especially that VOICE, and can’t stop thinking on this.

Soft non-mutant reader who doesn’t deal with violence and blood very well, like sick or panicky because they were so protected growing up, while Remy is trying to protect them during a fight (could be anywhere). Like, bad time bad place thing. But the reader wants to help, by throwing a shoe when they were about to hurt Remy. Chaos ensures when they turn toward the reader.

So as I was writing this, I was thinking "EXCUSE ME THIS IS A GREAT STORY CONCEPT,". Also, Am I able to use this prompt to possibly, maybe add to my 'I need to write this into a multi chap story' Gambit x reader file? But I hope you enjoy :)

The air crackled with tension as the fight erupted around you. It was supposed to be a simple errand, just a quick stop in a small town that had seemed peaceful enough to get a few hours sleep in. But then, as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, things went south, and it went south fast. The sudden ambush, the flash of weapons, and Remy pushing you behind him—everything happened too quickly to process.

You had never been good with violence. The sight of blood made your stomach churn, and the sound of gunfire was enough to send your heart racing in sheer panic. But Remy was so much more different that you, complete polar opposites. He moved through the chaos with a deadly grace, cards charged and ready, every motion calculated and precise. It was like watching a storm unfold, fierce and unstoppable.

You tried to stay out of the way, pressed against a wall, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. But then you saw it—one of the attackers sneaking up behind Remy, a blade glinting in the dim light. You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, just acted on pure instinct.

You looked around, hands still pressed against the red brick wall, trying to find something, anything, that would help. You let out a small huff, reaching down and grabbing the closest thing within reach—your dark coloured shoe—and flung it with all your might. It sailed through the air, smacking into the man’s head with a dull thud. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him stumble, giving Remy just enough time to turn and disarm him with a swift, brutal strike.

But then the man's eyes snapped towards you, fury burning in them as he realized where the attack had come from. You froze, heart hammering in your chest, as he took a menacing step toward you. "Shit," You whispered to yourself.

Remy, still engaged with another opponent, glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the man advancing on you. "What exactly did you think that would achieve?!" he shouted over the noise, his Cajun accent thick with frustration.

You blinked, caught between terror and a strange sort of defiance. "I don't really think about things before doing them, you know?" you shot back, voice trembling but determined. "It's how I ended up here with you to begin with, remember?"

The irony of your words wasn’t lost on you. You’d never been the type to seek out trouble, to dive headfirst into danger. In fact you, thrived staying away from it. Spending most days either inside or at your job. But meeting Remy had changed everything. He was chaos wrapped in charm, a magnet for the kind of trouble you had always been shielded from. And yet, somehow, you’d found yourself dragged into his world, into the madness that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

It had all started so innocently. You’d met him by chance, a twist of fate that had brought the two of you together. He was on the run, tangled up in something that you didn’t fully understand but couldn’t walk away from. Before you knew it, you were caught up in his orbit, swept along by his easy smile and the thrill of something you’d never felt before—excitement, danger, a sense of purpose.

And now, here you were, in the middle of a fight you had no business being in, your shoe—of all things—your only weapon. The absurdity of it might have made you laugh if you weren’t so scared.

The man lunged toward you, but before he could reach you, Remy was there, faster than you could have imagined. He moved like lightning, his bo staff connecting with the man’s side in a sickening crunch that made you wince. The man crumpled to the ground, and Remy turned to you, his eyes flashing with a mix of relief and exasperation.

"When I said stay behind me, ," he stated, his tone showing his annoyance at you, "It wasn't an optional request chère'".

You nodded, swallowing hard as you clung to the remnants of your composure. This wasn’t your world—this world of violence and bloodshed—but it was his, and as long as you were with him, you’d have to find a way to survive it.

Remy’s order to stay behind him was clear, but the chaos around you made it hard to follow. Every sound seemed amplified—the clash of metal, the shouts of your enemies, the pounding of your own heart in your ears. You stumbled back, trying to keep your distance, but the room felt like it was closing in on you, suffocating you with every breath.

Remy was a blur of motion, a dangerous dance of power and precision. You marveled at how he seemed to anticipate every move, every attack, as if the world around him was moving in slow motion. But despite his skill, you could see the strain in his eyes, the worry that flickered every time he glanced back at you.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You knew that much. But there wasn’t time to think about the ‘what ifs’ or the ‘should haves.’ Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting out of this alive.

Another assailant broke away from the fight, making a beeline for you. You instinctively took a step back, your hands trembling as you searched for something—anything—you could use to defend yourself. But there was nothing. No more shoes to throw, no weapons within reach. Just you and the growing dread in your chest.

Before you could react, the man was on you, his hand grabbing your arm with a painful grip. You let out a small cry, the fear surging up, threatening to overwhelm you. His grip tightened, and you could see the cold, calculating look in his eyes—a predator sizing up his prey.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Remy was there, moving like a shadow. He wrenched the man away from you, his eyes blazing with a fury you had never seen before. "I said stay behind me!" he snapped, his accent thick and his voice laced with an edge of desperation.

You didn’t have time to respond before Remy shoved you back, his attention already turning to the next threat. The man who had grabbed you was on the ground, groaning in pain, but Remy didn’t linger. He was already moving, his staff whirling as he took down the next attacker with a brutal efficiency.

You pressed yourself against the wall, your heart still racing, your body trembling with the adrenaline coursing through you. This was too much. The sights, the sounds, the raw violence of it all—it was overwhelming, like you were drowning in a sea of chaos with no way to escape.

But then you saw it—a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye. One of the attackers, a woman with a cruel sneer and a gun raised, aimed directly at Remy. Your breath caught in your throat, your blood running cold as you realized what was about to happen.

There was no time to think, no time to hesitate. Without a weapon, without a plan, you did the only thing you could think of. You threw yourself at her, arms flailing, a wild, desperate attempt to stop her before she could pull the trigger.

The impact surprised her, but it surprised you even more. The two of you tumbled to the ground, her gun skidding across the floor. She cursed, scrambling to get up, but you were already on her, holding her down with a strength you didn’t know you had.

For a moment, everything was a blur. You didn’t think, didn’t feel—just acted, driven by pure instinct and the overwhelming need to protect Remy. But you weren’t a fighter, and it didn’t take long for her to get the upper hand. She rolled you off her, slamming you against the floor with a force that knocked the breath out of you.

Pain radiated through your body, sharp and overwhelming, but you didn’t let go. You couldn’t. You had to hold on, had to keep fighting, because if you didn’t, if you let her win, she would kill Remy. And that thought was more terrifying than anything else.

But you were no match for her. She was stronger, more experienced, and it wasn’t long before she overpowered you. Her hand closed around your throat, squeezing, cutting off your air. You struggled, panic rising as your vision started to blur, dark spots dancing at the edges.

And then, just when you thought it was over, the pressure was gone. You sucked in a desperate breath, gasping for air, as you saw Remy standing over you, the woman unconscious at his feet. He knelt beside you, his face a mask of concern and something else—something raw and unspoken.

“Chère,” he whispered, his voice tight as he reached out to help you up. “You alright?”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if it was true. Your body hurt, your mind was spinning, and you felt like you might be sick. But you were alive, and so was he. That was all that mattered.

He pulled you to your feet, steadying you as you wobbled, your legs weak beneath you. “I told you t’stay back,” he muttered, though there was no anger in his voice now, only worry.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice hoarse and trembling. “I just… I had to do something. I couldn’t just stand there and watch.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, you saw the walls he usually kept up start to crumble. “I know,” he said quietly, his hand still on your arm, grounding you. “But you gotta trust me t’protect you, alright? This ain’t your fight.”

You nodded again, tears stinging your eyes as the reality of the situation finally started to sink in. You weren’t made for this—for the violence, the blood, the fear. You were out of your depth, dragged into a world you didn’t understand and couldn’t handle. But you couldn’t leave him, either. Not when he needed you.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, feeling the weight of your own inadequacy pressing down on you. “I’m not… I’m not like you, Remy. I can’t do this.”

He shook his head, pulling you into a tight embrace, holding you close against him. “You don’t gotta be like me, chère,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “You just gotta be you. And that’s enough.”

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as the tears finally started to fall. The fight was over, the danger passed, but the fear and the adrenaline still pulsed through you, leaving you shaky and exhausted.

Remy held you, his presence warm and comforting, a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. For a long moment, neither of you moved, just stayed there, holding on to each other in the aftermath of the chaos.

Finally, he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hands gently cupping your face. “We’re gonna get outta here, alright?” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “An’ I’m gonna make sure you’re safe. Always.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you wiped at your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but stronger than before. “Okay.”

He smiled, a small, reassuring smile that made your heart ache with a strange mix of relief and something else—something warm and tender that you didn’t quite know how to name.

“Good,” he said simply, “Let’s get moving.”

You followed him, your hand in his, allowing him to pull you into the street, feeling the weight of everything that had just happened. The fight, the fear, the realization that you were in over your head—it all hung heavy in the air. But there was also something else, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could handle this after all.

[lesbojournals]

Hiyaa! <33 i was wondering if you could do an actor!reader x poly!maraduers. Just fascinated by the film, they were the main character in, always complimenting how good they are, lots of kisses and praising, and ofc lots of fluff

Poly!Marauders x Actress!Reader

a/n: i hope this kinda meets what you were looking for-it kinda has a spicy ending but it's not smut!

“Are you sure I look okay?”

You straighten out Sirius’ tie and brush lint of his shoulders. “You look fine Siri. It’s just a red carpet, it won’t even be that long.”

He huffs and turns away from you to face Remus, who was tying James’ tie for him. 

“Just a red carpet she says,” Sirius laments. “Rem, do I look okay?”

You and Remus sigh in unison. He doesn’t look up from where he’s adjusting James’ tie, but James looks over at Sirius with an arched brow.

“If Y/N said you look fine, I’m sure you look fantastic love.” Remus said, giving James’ chest a pat when he finished with the tie. 

Sirius rolled his eyes and started to pace around the apartment. 

James shrugged his suit jacket on. “Babe, you look great. It’ll be alright.” 

He raised his hands in defense. “Alright, alright! If you all insist.”

You peaked out the window, seeing headlights shine through. “Limo’s here.”

You all piled into the limo, Remus chastising James to be careful of your dress as you stepped in. Sirius’ leg bounced up and down, and you rested your hand on it. He looked at you, and if it weren’t for his bouncing leg, most wouldn’t be able to guess how worried Sirius truly was. 

“It’s gonna be a lot of flashing lights,” You warned. “But it’s quick. We walk, we stop for pictures, then we go inside. No interviews today. Then we just sit, relax, and watch the movie. There might be an after party afterwards, but we don’t have to go if you aren’t feeling up to it Siri.”

Sirius nodded, deep in thought. “I’ll be okay. Just nervous to be introduced to your world, is all.”

You gave him a small smile. “Well if it’s any consolation, you look amazing.”

“And you two,” You added. “My handsome boys.”

Before they could respond you felt the limo come to a halt, and the driver announced to the four of you that you had arrived. 

You looked at Sirius. “Just hold my hand–I’ll guide you through it.”

Sirius nodded, not exactly making eye contact. 

Your faces were illuminated by bright lights as you exited the limo, and you smiled brightly at the cameras. Your last name was called out loud by various photographers, and you led the boys along to stop and smile, before moving along to stop and smile again, and again, and again.

You gave Sirius’ hand squeezes as you walked through, and as you entered the theater you whispered to him. “You did great, handsome.”

He smiled at you, and an usher led you along to where the four of you would be sat. 

“Shouldn’t you be the nervous one?” Sirius questioned, going into the aisle first so you could sit in between him and James. 

“Me?” You asked. “Oh, I’m nervous as anything.”

“You don’t look it.” James said, amused. 

Remus smiled and shook his head as he reached across to have his arm around James’ shoulder. “Are you lads forgetting? She’s an actress.”

James pursed his lips and nodded, cheeks turning a shade of pink in embarrassment. 

You patted his leg in comfort, and the lights began to dim. 

“Movie’s about to start.” You whispered. 

Sirius reached for your hand. “You’re going to be great.” 

You took pride in your work on the screen, you really did. You loved your career as an actress and you were excited to bring your boys to see the latest project you were starring in. It was practically a thrill for you, because you knew how much your boys wanted to see your work. This movie, however, was one of the first times you felt confident and passionate enough to show it off–even without having seen the finished project. 

As the movie came to a close you hesitated to look at your boyfriends, but it was kind of difficult as many in the audience were standing and turning to look at you.

You were nearly in shock at the response, and it was James who whispered in your ear. 

“I think you’re supposed to stand up, darling.” 

Immediately you rose to your feet, tears in your eyes as you waved and thanked the many people who were applauding you. You gestured to your costar, not too far down the row from you, who gave you a large smile and kept applauding–for you. 

The rush of the applause and getting back into the limo home was a blur, and you looked at your boyfriends with wide eyes. 

“So?” You asked.

Sirius laughed audibly. “So? So!!? You’re amazing, dollface!”

Remus and James spoke over each other next, a mix of astonishment and pride. Remus leaned over from where he was sitting in the limo and began to shower your face in kisses, and in between proclaiming:

“I”

Kiss.

“Am.”

Another kiss.

“So.”

Smooch.

“Proud.”

Kiss again.

“Of.”

A kiss on your forehead.

“You.” 

He leaned in for a more passionate kiss, and you giggled at the lipstick that was smeared across his own lips.

You giggled at it, and he only smiled in response. 

“Hey,” James whined. “You’re not the only one that gets to give her kisses. ‘S’not fair.”

“Fine then,” Remus leaned back, and James nearly leaped at the opportunity to throw himself on you. 

He slowly kissed your neck, one hand behind your head as the other moved its way around your body. He eventually brought his lips to yours, eliciting a few moans from you as Sirius squeezed himself next to you to give your neck open mouth kisses. Remus watched with a satisfied smirk, wiping the lipstick off his face with the back of his hand. 

As you broke from the kiss with James, you looked at him with big eyes. 

“What’s this for?” You whispered to him.

He smiled, and you could feel his hand go under your dress. “Consider it a job well done.”

[storm-angel989]

Hi, I'm a huge fan of your writing. I was wondering if I could request a one-shot of valentino's teenage daughter running away from home because she's feeling neglected with how busy the vee's always are and how they keep missing important events of hers for work. Thanks.

OMG thank you so so so much! I can't express how much I appreciate that you are a fan of my writing! It astounds me every time I get a like or a compliment that another human actually LIKES my work! It means the world to me!

The editing continues! What a weekend! Enjoy <3

I'm REALLY looking forward to not working tomorrow- happy summer y'all!

I slammed the last of my absolute favorite clothes into my duffle bag. Another game had passed, another three hours of scanning frantically through the crowds for any sign of my father- or even my Aunt Velvette or my Uncle Vox. Another night of watching, waiting for them post game, only to be met with Derek, my Dad’s favorite limo driver. 

“Your family sends their regrets,” he told me as he opened the door. “And your dad personally asked me to congratulate you on your win.” 

“Thanks,” I replied glumly as I climbed in the back. 

I laid my head against the window and wondered what could be so important that they had to miss one of the last water polo games of the year. As the miles passed, I could feel the anger growing, festering pent up emotions. Uncle Vox? His meeting was really so important he couldn’t even jump through the camera to say hi? Aunt Velvette- was her fashion show such a big deal that she couldn’t have come for even a few seconds? 

And my father…whatever it was he was so wrapped up in. I still wasn’t exactly sure what my father did for work, but I knew it involved privacy and dirty movies. And at eleven years old, I was sick of the secrecy, sick of being ignored. 

So I stalked into our empty flat and began to pack a bag. I wouldn’t need anything more than the basics. I left the gold credit card my father had given me on my night stand. I had enough cash on hand and my own personal debit card. I didn’t need his money. I didn’t need any of them. 

I shoved my watch and my cell phone under the mattress of my bed and swung open the window of my room. All the movies talked about scaling down the wall, sneaking out into the darkness of the night. But as I looked down from the very top of the V tower, I decided it was a better idea to take the elevator down. 

It was a sense of freedom as soon as I stepped outside the main entrance. The fact that no one saw me meant Vox was too busy with whatever to be watching the cameras. Far too busy to care about me. My anger continued to fester as I wandered the dark streets. The more time passed, the  more unease settled over me. Without my phone, I couldn’t access my VoxQuest GPS. Even more so than I did after the game, I felt alone. 

I turned down a side street and stepped in front of the building brightly lit up with the numbers 666. Outside, a tall shark demon in a well pressed suit leered at me. 

“Pretty thing. Need a job? We’re hiring.”

I felt his hand on my shoulder and my heart almost stopped. A job. I would need one of those but this? What was this? 

“What…kind of work are you offering?” I asked timidly.

He laughed, “oh sweetheart, you’ll be perfect. Just come inside. The boss is here, and I’m sure he’ll be thrilled with my…er…you.”

Against my better judgment, I followed him inside. Bright lights flashed, loud music blared and I cringed. Around me, scantily clad women rushed drinks around to demons dressed in suits. Waitressing. If that was the job, I could do it. 

“Just smile pretty, and the boss will eat it right up. Soon as he approves, we’ll get you out there with the rest of the girls. Don’t worry- we’ll give you everything you could ever need,” he said as he led me over to a table where a mix of practically naked demons surrounded one tall demon. I watched as his face buried itself into the demon directly next to him, either not noticing my approach or not caring. I opened my mouth to introduce myself but then I noticed it. 

The red jacket. 

I felt my stomach drop. No. It couldn’t be. Involuntarily, I took a step back as the demon shoved me forward.

“Hey boss, what do you think of this pretty little prospect? Innocent, young, but we’ve had a demand for that,” he said loudly, his fingers pressing hard into my shoulder. 

“D-daddy?” I practically whispered.

“Heh, you do learn quick dontcha?” The shark demon chuckled. “See? I found a good one.” 

The demon turned away from his make out session and I could feel myself pale. His expression changed instantly from annoyance to horror.

“Reader! What the fuck are you doing here?” Valentino hollered as he stood up, pushing aside the table and the surrounding girls. “All of you, out! NOW!.” 

He grabbed my arm and yanked me towards the back of the club. Lights flashed and a steady stream of people moved quickly, exiting the building faster than I had ever seen anyone move. Behind us, the room went dark. 

I heard the door slam and I could feel myself shaking as I watched my father pace the room, screaming into his phone at who I assumed was Uncle Vox. Finally, he turned to me.

“How are you here? Why are you here?” He snarled, fury in his eyes. “You’re supposed to be at home, doing homework or…or…”

I could feel the fury rise, “or what, Dad?” I stepped closer to him and balled my fists. “Is this why you couldn’t come to my game tonight? You were too busy making out…making out with…” I could feel the tears of anger and frustration start to well up in the corners of my eyes. He really didn’t give a shit about me. 

I watched his expression change from anger to something I couldn’t name. 

“That was tonight.” He said slowly. “Your game was tonight.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, it was tonight! And you promised, you fucking promised me you would be there and you didn’t, Dad! And neither did Aunt Velvette or Uncle Vox, none of you could make time in your busy schedules. If I’m so much of a burden to you I’ll just, I’ll just leave!” Unable to hold back anymore, I dropped my duffle bag and burst into sobbing tears.

“That’s why you were here, you were running away,” he said as he walked towards me. “Ninita, I…”

“Your point is made, Dad!” I yelled through the tears. “I don’t fucking matter!”

He pulled me to him and I buried my face into the white fluff of his jacket as I choked on each sob that escaped.

“You do matter, you are my world bebita,” he said quietly as he held me. “I…I never meant, I never thought we…I…” He swallowed and tightened his grasp around me. “Let’s get you home.”

“Why? So you can say you’re sorry and then do this all over again next week?” I choked out as I pushed away from him. 

He looked pained. “No. So we can figure out how to make sure this never happens again.” He lifted up my duffle bag and put his arms around me, guiding me out the back door to an awaiting limo. 

Too upset to care, I let him. 

In the limo he kept his arm around me and I laid my head on his shoulder as I tried desperately to stop crying. Part of me wanted to keep screaming, to keep yelling, to demand to know why he chose to do what he did tonight. But the other part of me, the bigger part of me, basked in every drop of the attention he was giving me. 

“Shussh, cariño, you’re going to give yourself the hiccups,” he said gently as he rubbed my back. “Slow, deep breaths. Shush. Listen to Daddy, okay? We’ll fix this. This will never happen again.” 

His words sent me into another spiraling round of tears. He kept the steady pressure on my back as I cried into him. Exhaustion swept over me, and eventually I closed my eyes. My entire face felt puffy and swollen. After what felt like forever, the limo stopped. 

“Come on little girl, Daddy’s got you,” he muttered as he lifted me into his arms.

Too tired to care, I let him snuggle me to his chest and I buried my face against him, I felt him carry me inside, and listened to the sound of the elevator ping. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. And finally…seven. 

“Is she okay?” Vox’s voice was full of panic. 

“She isn’t hurt, is she?” Velvette’s voice, equally as frantic. 

My father ignored them both and instead, carefully set me down on the couch. 

“That’s a girl, keep breathing. Keep calm. Daddy’s here. Velvette, would you be a dear and get a warm washcloth? And Vox…if you would put the tracker back on her wrist.”

“I’m fine,” I said as I pushed myself up. “I’m…”

He pressed his lips to my forehead. “No. You’re not. And you shouldn’t be. We fucked up- I fucked up. Big time.” He turned and took the washcloth from Velvette’s hand and gently pressed it against my face. 

I closed my eyes and let him fuss over me as he dabbed at my cheeks. I felt Vox slip the tracker back on my wrist, his fingers pausing just at the pulse point. After a few minutes, he released me and I blinked my eyes open and sat up. 

“Daddy, I’m fine, I’m not hurt…”

“Not physically, but we did hurt you,” Vox said quietly. 

“We fucked up,” Velvette added as she sat down next to me. “We really fucked up.”

“We let work get in the way of our family,” Valentino said as he sat on the other side of me.

I could feel the anger start to rise as I remembered the scene I had walked in on. “Work? You call being out at a bar making out with someone work?”

Both Velvette and Vox looked at Valentino with a mix of horror and disgust. Vox sighed and gave them both a glare.  

“Only that part, Valentino. Got it?” Vox grumbled. “And only because she doesn’t need that image burned into her brain. The rest is on us.” He turned his head to me. “Reader…you saw what now?”

I felt my fathers fingers under my chin as he tilted my head towards Vox. My gaze met his and his eye began to swirl.

“That’s right. Good.” Vox continued, “Reader, keep looking at me. What did you see?” 

Instant calm washed over me and I leaned my head against my father’s shoulder. 

“I…I saw my Dad…”

“Yeah, you did see your Dad…you saw your Dad working in his office, right? At one of his clubs?” 

I swallowed as the calm sank deeper. My memory felt soft, almost fuzzy. An image of my Dad, wrapped up in his red jacket, sitting behind a desk. The feel of the bouncers hand, guiding me into his back office. His anger, and the beginning of our fight.

“Baby? What did you see?” Vox asked again.

I blinked, a sick feeling sinking over my stomach. “I…I ran away. I got pulled into a club, and the guy took me to my Dad’s office. He was at his desk and…and we fought…” 

“Ah, babygirl,” Valentino muttered as he put his arm around me. “We didn’t fight so much as you…put me in my place. I’m sorry, cariño.” He kissed my forehead. “I promise I personally will never miss one of your games again. I love you, reader. You are my world.” 

“Our world. And we never meant to make you feel like anything else,” Velvette added quietly.

“Next time we fuck up, come barging into our office and yell, okay?” Vox pleaded as he moved himself closer. “The streets of hell are dangerous. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“Yell, scream, but please don’t run away again,” Valentino muttered. “It won’t happen again. We promise.” 

I buried my face in my fathers shoulder and took a deep breath as I nodded. The sense of calm that washed over me lingered as exhaustion washed over me. 

“Promise? Like really promise? I just want your…I want you,” I mumbled.

“You have us,” Valentino said soothingly. “Always.” He kissed my forehead. “Let’s get you to bed, we can talk in the morning about how we can make this up to you.”

“Play a practice round with me?” I asked as my father once again lifted me into his arms. “Go to the pool the three of us?”

“If that’s what you want, sure. We’ll do it tomorrow.” Valentino promised with a glance at the other two. 

“Tomorrow we are all yours,” Velvette added.

“Totally yours,” Vox chimed in. “Goodnight, reader.” 

I fell asleep the moment my father tucked me under the covers. Tomorrow, tomorrow we would have a family day.

[arminhug]

lame first dates || armin arlert x reader

read it on ao3 here!

synopsis: on a warm spring day outside, your close friend armin tells you his ideal first date. if only it could be you on that date…

notes: gn! reader, friends to lovers, one-shot, mad fluff, loosely implied college! au if you really squint, armin and reader being bookworms, just some cute friends to lovers with a healthy dose of awkwardness, also you're vegetarian in this bc i couldn't think of another way to make cooking for someone more awkward, but this is only alluded to once

song rec: bleached by video days

。.・゜✭・.��✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

“That’s lame!”

He blinks at me, doe eyes wide and brows furrowed in almost comical confusion. Blinks again. Pushes his hands back into the plush grass. “How is it lame?” he inquires.

“Why did you agree to get coffee as a first date if caffeine makes you anxious? God, as if first dates aren’t already stressful enough!”

“Look, okay!” Armin is grinning, and I breathe out in relief, knowing I have not actually upset him. His animate face is bridled by the April sunshine, and I am struggling to take my eyes off him. Oh God, am I staring? I hope I’m not staring. “They were really pretty. I mean, out of my league pretty. I was in no position to start negotiating.”

“Why not? There’s nothing wrong with both having input in a first date. If anything it’s telling.”

“How?”

“If they get angry at you for negotiating the date, that’s a red flag.” I say definitively.

“Well, that’s you,” Armin emphasises, lying back into the grass. His left hand rests lazily against his button nose to shield out the clear sky. “You’re more assertive than me. I was just thrilled they actually wanted to go on a date me.”

“So where did that go?” I ask tentatively.

“It didn’t work out. We went on a few dates, but they told me it just wasn’t clicking. That’s fair enough, I guess, but I still felt… bad. Like I obviously wasn’t good enough for them. Why would I be?” he turns to me, pursing his lips. “Sorry, I know I’m being a little melodramatic.”

“No, I get it. I mean, you definitely are good enough. But you’re always gonna feel shitty after being rejected.”

“Yeah.”

“So, when was this? I don’t remember you seeing somebody.”

“Start of the year. But it was a few dates, not a wedding plan. I just don’t feel the need to broadcast if I’m going on a couple of dates to the entire group. Unless they ask, of course.”

“Well,” I start, meeting his eyes with a smile. “I was expecting at least a little change in behaviour, surely? Maybe a spring in the step, a little bit more energy, high on life and love and all that jazz?” I enunciate with a flair of my hands.

“Not really. Maybe that was telling that there was nothing there. After all, the dates were all standard… kind of awkward at times, but like I said, I was grateful somebody that pretty desired me.”

I’m trying not to cringe at how much he is saying this person is attractive. Seriously Armin, I get it. They were a god of aesthetic desire, no need to rub it in. Change the subject, I tell myself, teeth on my bottom lip. “Define standard dates.” I state.

“Oh, you know… dinner, a movie, coffee shops. I like the time I spend to be more imaginative and personal.”

“So what’s an imaginative date, then? What’s the ideal first date for you?”

Armin groans emphatically, shaking his head. “If you think coffee shop is lame, you are going to hate my ideal first date.”

“Bet I won’t,” I shoot back, leaning forward.

“Well,” he starts, then immediately rolls over, hiding his face with a groan, which is so cute it makes me want to burst. “You are seriously going to think I’m so lame!”

“I could never think you are lame, Arlert! I only thought the idea of you going to spike your anxiety levels on a generally very anxiety inducing conquest was lame, that’s all. Tell me!” I emphasise the last two words with a tentative shake of his shoulder, a feather light touch, hoping the contact will get him to open up.

“Fine! My ideal date is a day like this. Sometimes I imagine it at the beach, but we live nowhere near one, and they’d be busy anyway. I want a quiet spot in nature, somewhere me and my date can be alone–”

“Ooh, you’re gonna get freaky!” I jibe.

“Not like that!” his head shoots up, and as I suspected, his cheeks are already slightly flushed. Although I tease him about it, I find how easily he goes red to be one of his sweetest quirks. “I just want somewhere we– my date and I– would have some quiet.”

“Interesting, so we’d– you’d find somewhere like this,” I motion to the undisturbed corner of grass we have secured on the green, where fronds of tallgrass and milkweed encircle our undisturbed patch of greenery against young trees. The picnic bench, heavy with peeling green paint and student graffiti dating back years, is unused by us as we opt for the floor to vantage the serene lake. “Why do you need quiet?” I continue, genuinely wanting to know more.

“Well, yeah, here would be an ideal location. It’d just be nice to have the solitude, I guess. Plus, I’d bring a picnic–”

“Oh my God!”

Armin buries his face once more. “See? I knew you’d think it’s lame!”

“No, no! That’s so cute! I would never forget it if somebody made me a picnic,” I sigh dreamily, lying down next to him with just enough space between us for it to not seem flirtatious. As much as I want to flirt, to let him know how lovely I find him, I can never quite gauge if it would be reciprocated. He’s currently one of my closest friends; if he’s not willing to take it any further, I would rather let the feelings die, albeit painfully, on their own, and resume our friendship, rather than make him uncomfortable. The trouble is, Armin is painfully shy. If there is anything between us, he does a great job of hiding it, and judging by the recounts of people always asking him out, I wonder if he would ever make a move on me even if he did feel the same way.

“So nobody’s ever made you a picnic? I find that hard to believe.” he mumbles, peeking one eye towards me behind messy tufts of honey blonde hair and daisies.

“No, they have not!” I state dramatically, crossing my arms. “I got cooked dinner once, but they made it with meat. I literally told them I didn’t… hang on, what do you mean it’s hard to believe? Am I royalty who deserves picnics made for them on every date I go on?” A beat passes from my inquiry, and my heart skips. While only meaning it as a joke, I am more curious than ever to know what he is thinking right now.

“I just find it surprising that someone like you… I mean, it’s just weird. I thought you would have been taken on a lot of lovely dates.”

“Not really, actually. There’s been some nice ones, but none that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. Anyway, enough about my dates, I want to hear more about this ideal picnic first date!”

“Okay, so I’d prepare a picnic. Nothing too extravagant, just some berries, sandwiches. Maybe I’d make some cookies, or maybe ask if there’s anything they’d like to bring along. Before we arrived, I’d ask them to bring their favourite book, and I’d bring mine. Then, after we got comfortable, we’d swap books and read. I think it’d just be a lovely way to get to know the other person. You can tell a lot about a person by their favourite book.”

Oh my God. He’s so cute. I can’t stop myself smiling, instantly fantasising about how much I want to be the person who he takes on this picnic date.

“Your silence speaks volumes.” he shoots, his voice muffled.

“Armin!” I shout, louder than intended. “If somebody did that for my first date, I’d ask for their hand in marriage. That’s such a romantic idea! My silence is speaking the volumes of ‘holy shit, I wish I could have a first date like that’.”

“You think so?”

“Yes! You could get anyone you wanted if you planned that as a date. You should ask the next person you find cute what their favourite thing to bring on a picnic is, you'll be married by the end of the day." I assert hyperbolically.

“I seriously can’t asking people out. If I could… well.” he falters, furrows his brow and sighs. “Hey, what’s your favourite book?”

My body shoots full of adrenaline. Is he coming on to me? Or am I reading way too much into this? That's got to be a come on, right?

“Well, I have a few favourites, but the best I’ve read recently is Circe by Madeleine Miller.”

“Oh!” he exclaims with the sweetest grin, his eyes wide. “I loved Song of Achilles, but I never got round to Circe.”

Shoot your shot, shoot your shot, shoot your shot. I cannot stop my mind running, daring to ask if he’d like to read it, insinuating the date.

“What’s your favourite?” I enquire. I decide to test the waters. “What book would you bring to this picnic date… if I brought Circe?” Was that a bit too much testing of the waters? Oh, God. He shrouds his head with his bare arms, and I am weighing up whether this is because I’ve pushed it too far or if he’s blushing.

“Uh… well I have a lot of favourites, like you. But I’d most likely bring Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood. It’s something I read when I was young, much too young to fully understand the depth of the nuances, but it always stayed with me. As I got older, I reread it over and over and I was more immersed each time. It’s one of her best works, I’d even say it’s on the level with The Handmaid’s Tale.” During his rambles, he pokes his head up, clearly lost in the world of the book he describes to me. That’s when I am shot through with another course of adrenaline, desperately fighting any visible tells of excitement. He is blushing!

“Huh,” I muse. “Not read that one, only The Handmaid’s Tale and The Testaments.”

“So… we’ve both not read each other’s favourite books, huh?” he says quietly, pushing himself up onto his forearms and turning his head. He begins to bend his fingers against each other. I am absentmindedly biting my thumbnail, wondering if either of us might ask.

Fuck it.

“Um… no hard feelings if not–”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to, but–”

We both start in unison. Pause. Make direct eye contact.

“You go.” Again, in unison, before laughing nervously.

“Seriously, you can go first!” I gesture, wondering if he will really ask me.

He shakes his head shyly. “You go.”

“Well… if you’re going to ask what I think you are, then I want to hear you say it!” I tell him.

“So, what do you think I’m going to ask?”

“If you wanted to do that date together!” I blurt, then reel. Oh, that sly bastard. He’s gotten me to say it first.

“Yeah… I’d like that, (y/n).”

“Okay, cool.” I respond, internally smacking myself. Okay, cool? Who says okay, cool? “I mean,” I rectify, fidgeting. “That’d be really nice. When? Is here okay? Wait, I’m totally rambling, aren’t I? Sorry, I just…”

“No it’s okay! I… I was nervous too. Are you free tomorrow? Or is that too soon–”

“No, not too soon! What about a time?

“Noon okay? I mean, it doesn’t have to be, but–” We are both stumbling over words, rebuttals, speaking quickly and correcting ourselves on our own words. But we are also both grinning uncontrollably. I sigh, taking a moment.

“Noon would be great. Would you like me to bring anything? Drinks, or snacks?”

“Well, I can take care of sandwiches and fruits. If you could bring any drinks you like or some other small snacks, that’d be lovely.”

“No problem! But I have one question… are you really going to make me cookies?”

Armin exhales through his nose, shaking his head. Then he does something uncharacteristically bold; takes my hand and squeezes it briefly.

“For you, I think I can do that.”

[psychoticallykind]

Jegumas Day Twenty-Five - Christmas Morning/Day

1,014 words

@noblehouseofgay

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Good morning, love.”

A warm hand rubbed circles into Regulus’s shoulder, gently bringing him to full consciousness.

Regulus blinked his eyes open to see James holding a tray and a cup of hot chocolate. “Jamie.”

“Yes, love.” James waited until he sat up to set the tray down. He kissed the top of Regulus’s head. “Blueberry pancakes, bacon, and a small omelette with all of your usual requests.”

The food looked amazing. Regulus tipped his head up to get a kiss, humming happily. “Thank you.”

“You’re always welcome,” James replied, smiling brightly. He moved around the bed and carefully got on, moving to wrap an arm around his fiance. “How are you feeling?”

Regulus leaned against him. “Good.” He put a bite of pancake in his mouth, moaning in appreciation. “Oh, I love you.”

James laughed. “I love you, too.” He kissed his cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

Regulus sighed, feeling a little anxious as he realized what day it was. “Merry Christmas.”

James hummed in sympathy, letting Regulus eat in relative quiet. Regulus appreciated it - he didn’t imagine the rest of the day would be anywhere near as calm as this.

It wasn’t that Regulus didn’t like Christmas. He did - mostly. He loved getting gifts for people and baking cookies with James and cuddling on the couch watching Christmas movies. He loved helping James decorate and listening to Christmas music.

But Christmas day was always a little bit stressful. Everything was crammed into Christmas day - they went to Sirius and Remus, and then Lily and Pandora, and then James’s parents house for dinner. It was a lot of driving and talking and Regulus was always completely exhausted halfway through.

But it was fine. He would smile and be happy and try his best to enjoy the chaos.

“So I did something,” James said quietly. “That you should know about.”

Regulus turned to look at him. “What?”

James looked just slightly anxious, which made Regulus a bit concerned. “Do you remember how Lily called yesterday, and she wanted to move the plans around a bit so that we could go to her house earlier and then Sirius’s later?”

Regulus felt his stomach flip at the idea of switching it up. It would mean more driving, and an earlier start - they’d have to leave really soon, actually. He frowned, hoping for some sort of miracle that didn’t mean he had to function before nine in the morning. “Yes.”

“Well, I sort of told her that it wasn’t possible,” James told him. “So we arranged for everyone to meet at a dinner party in a couple of days instead of our usual schedule.”

Regulus tried to process that. “A dinner party?” He felt a spike of panic. “We’re doing more?”

“No, no,” James assured him quickly. “No, I’m sorry - Reg, I told everyone that we weren’t driving today. Except for mum and dad, I told them that I wasn’t sure, and Mum said to let them know by lunchtime. It seemed like it was stressing you out, so I thought we just - well, I thought it might be better to just relax today.”

“We’re…not driving today,” Regulus repeated slowly. He bit down on his smile, trying to contain the pure relief. “We don’t have to drive everywhere and talk to everyone today?”

James shook his head. “Nope. We can stay home all day if you want, we don’t even have to visit my parents.”

“That’s,” Regulus shook his head, overwhelmed. “That’s - James.”

James smiled, taking in his reaction. “Good?”

“So good,” Regulus confirmed. He grinned, the tension melting from his frame as he dropped his fork and hugged James tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. James, I love you. I love you so much.”

He pulled back, suddenly worried. “Wait, you’re okay with this, right? You’re not sad?”

“I’m thrilled,” James replied sincerely. He kissed Regulus’s forehead. “This is the most excited I’ve ever seen you for Christmas. I love it.”

“I didn’t mean to make you cancel everything,” Regulus said guiltily.

“You didn’t.” James shook his head. “You were lovely about everything. But you looked more and more anxious every time it was brought up, and I don’t want you to feel bad today. You deserve to have fun on Christmas.”

Regulus took a deep breath, almost in tears as he hugged James again. “Thank you.”

“Always,” James replied, squeezing him back. “I’d have done this years ago if I knew it stressed you out so much.”

“I’d have told you years ago if I realized I wouldn’t have to go through it every year.” Regulus blew out a long breath, looking forward to the rest of Christmas for the first time in years. “Maybe we can still go to your parents for dinner.”

James’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

Regulus nodded - he loved visiting James’s parents. And without everything else, it actually did sound like fun. Plus, he knew James loved to see them during the holidays. “I think it’ll be fun.”

“I’ll call after breakfast,” James said happily. He kissed Regulus’s cheek. “What do you want to do today? Movies, cookies, music, reading?”

“Can we -” Regulus faltered for a second, but James gave him a little nod, encouraging him. “Can we do all of that? Just - I just want to do the Christmas stuff. Just us.”

“Regulus,” James said softly. He pressed kisses to his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. “I love that idea. We can do everything, of course we can. Do you want to make gingerbread houses? We have the stuff for it - oh, and we can make little gingerbread people to go inside!”

Regulus laughed, nodding in agreement. “That sounds perfect.” He stopped James from kissing his cheek again, turning to get a real kiss.

They were both grinning too much for it to be much of a kiss, but it didn’t matter. They could keep kissing - they could do whatever they wanted today, just them.

Regulus had never truly disliked Christmas.

But until today, he’d never truly loved it.