#sorry there were a few more i wanted to answer!!

[terrestrialnoob]

Gut Feeling

DPXDC

Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.

--

“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”

Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.

“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –

Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.

“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.

“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”

“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”

Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”

“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”

“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”

The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”

Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”

He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. “Danny.”

“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”

“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”

“Only Batman, no one else can help.”

“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”

“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”

“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”

“It’s personal.”

Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”

After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.

“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.

It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”

“Who?”

“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”

“Why?”

“Refuses to tell me.”

“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”

Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.

“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.

“And he wont say why he’s there?”

“No, and he demands to see you in person.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”

Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”

“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.

The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.

Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”

“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”

“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.

All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”

The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”

Holy cow.

“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.

“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”

“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”

Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”

Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.

“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.

“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”

“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”

“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”

“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.

[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | TEMPER

sum. : remus is usually a grump, as dismal as a cloudy day and you're his sunshine, whether he accepts it or not -- he denies it vehemently until his sensitive nerves make him lash out the day of a full moon

length : 2.2k

tags. : grumpy remus ; sunshine reader ; opposites attract ; angst with a happy ending ; remus is a meanie ; reader is stubborn ; a little ooc remus lupin ; fluff ; angst

navi. | more remus lupin

Remus thinks you’re strange. He didn’t know of you until you made yourself known to him, wearing the brightest smile he had ever seen on a person. It was like the sun breaking through a stubborn wall of clouds on an otherwise dismal day. He wasn’t usually the extroverted type, especially with Sirius, James and Peter as his best mates so he was surprised that someone like him managed to catch your eye.  

He was perfectly fine with being a silent presence in his close group of friends, appreciating them for their companionship despite knowing of his ‘furry little problem’. He hardly interacted with others outside his small group and preferred it that way. So when you suddenly appeared before him, he didn’t know what to do with you. 

You had a horrible preference for appearing whenever he was reading in the library – something he enjoyed for academic and recreational purposes. James, Sirius and Peter never understood his fondness for reading so left him alone whenever he simply wanted to read. He was more than comfortable with having only himself for company until you started sitting with him. That was how you first got to know each other or, rather, how you made him your ‘friend’ but not by choice. 

“What are you reading there?” your chirpy voice cuts through the silence that first day. Hoping you weren’t talking to him, Remus ignored you and, instead, brought his book closer to shield his face. “Hello?~” you sang softly after a beat of silence and he could hear the smile in your words. Finally, Remus looks up but only spares you a brief once-over. He was being rude, yes, but so were you for interrupting his reading. Remus also couldn’t stand seeing your bright and sunny gaze for longer than he’d be willing to stare directly at the sun. He’s half convinced he’d burn himself if he looked at you too long.

“Frankenstein,” he answers quietly, hoping you’d leave soon enough… but that was wishful thinking on his part. 

“Oh! A muggle book? That’s pretty cool.” there’s a pause after Remus gives an acknowledging grunt but nothing more. Please go away!  He remembers pleading to himself as he tried to find where he last left off – you were too distracting, “May I sit with you?” Remus goes to give you a judging look but you’re already sitting in the seat across from him when he looks up. He glares at your happy disposition, unaffected by his obvious disapproval, much to his irritation. His annoyance flares sharply as he emits a low growl from deep within his chest but there’s no response from you. You’re as immovable as a mountain. He has no choice but to accept his fate and does his best to ignore you in favour of reading. 

However, in doing so, he had deeply underestimated how determined you were to disturb his peace. 

From his periphery, he sees you pausing in your own reading to stare blatantly at him from across the table. Your first few attempts were, somewhat, sneaky but, over time, you eventually gave in to an obnoxious stare. Remus felt like he couldn’t turn a single page without you eyeing his long fingers. Your eyes peek out from over your book and Remus has to fight himself to keep from getting lost in your curious, twinkling eyes. 

“What do you want?” he snaps agitated and suppressing the horrible urge to grind his teeth menacingly at you. A disguised effort to resist your infuriating charms. Someone this annoyingly persistent shouldn’t be so adorable. 

“Sorry, I umm…. I just wanted to know what your Frankenstein book was about…”

You were polite and sweet with the decency to appear, somewhat, ashamed of your behaviour —it was very cute— but that only seemed to rile Remus up even more, “Read it yourself.” he snaps again and continues reading. 

He doesn’t feel bad for snapping at you, which is why he avoids your gaze entirely. In his efforts, he manages to make more progress with reading and doesn’t realise how much time has gone by until the ache in his neck makes him look up and see you asleep atop the table. Rolling his eyes, Remus packs his things and leaves you to return to Gryffindor Tower — he’s not a babysitter so he shouldn’t feel guilty and he shouldn’t look back. But he does alert the librarian about your presence so that she gets you up instead. 

Remus doesn’t see you until a few days later when you happen upon him in the library and disturb his peace once again. When he looks up this time, however, his eyes manage to linger on your smile before you direct his attention to a copy of Frankenstein in your hand. It makes him raise a brown in silent question. 

“I got the book to read as you suggested,” you ramble on more than is necessary. At least your voice isn’t super annoying, it’s actually quite nice to listen to, “I haven’t read much yet but it’s really good so far. It’s not like anything I’ve ever read before. You have a really good taste in books,” by this point, Remus has already buried his attention back into the pages of his current book and tries to zone you out with only minimal success, “May I sit with you?” that question immediately catches his attention and he almost snaps his neck in half, looking up to firmly reject your attempts. 

“No–!” but he was too late as you were already sitting down and smiling innocently from your seat across the table. He frowns deeply and sighs loudly, making his annoyance obvious but you’re unbothered and already have your book open. His eyes narrow, perplexed at how someone can act so brazenly. He notices the stray hair that falls out of place, the slight crookedness of your collar, the focus in your eyes, the softness of your skin and the gentle curve of your face… You’re so annoying! “What edition do you have?” he suddenly asks, his voice rough and disinterested as if he couldn’t care less whether you answered him or not. He wasn’t interested at all; he just needed to desperately put an end to his earlier train of thought. Hopefully, your response would irk him again and he could return to being rightfully irritated by you. 

“Oh um…” you flick to the very first page of the book, “I have the 1818 edition, why?” you’re smiling sweetly and he scoffs, turning his head away. His ears had become a bright pink beneath his hair. 

“No reason…” The two of you return to reading your individual books while Remus hopes you don’t register the subconscious hum of approval he let out. He’s only happy you’re reading the original, unrevised version. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The two of you have become an unusual pair that is often seen around Hogwarts. Many have criticised you for always trailing behind the tall Gryffindor, and despite his cold, impartial disposition towards you, Remus is the first to put an end to such ‘annoying’ talk. 

“Stop talking about things you hardly know anything about,” he would often use his tall height to glare down at those same, clueless people, demeaning them further. And, although that should have been the end of it, many persisted to the point where James, Sirius, and Peter also stepped in when neither of you were around to defend your unusual pairing. 

“Thank you, Remus,” you would chirp at him but receive no response in return. It was odd that, despite his cold shoulder, you persisted. Always wanting to be his friend, always smiling so easily, always greeting him with a friendly tone. It didn’t make sense to him. 

Deep down, Remus wants to keep you. He thinks you are adorable; you are a shining light to a monster like him, and he knows he doesn’t deserve it. Whenever you stand particularly close to him, he savours the warmth you radiate. And whenever you talk, no matter if it is nonsense, he always listens, even if he pretends to ignore you by doing something else entirely. He keeps you at a distance but also wants you close at the same time – he was confusing even himself! 

He was grateful for your consistency, however. Grateful until the week of the full moon. 

You are consistent, and that was something Remus always appreciated about you. But it has become Remus’ main point of irritation for the past few days. Everywhere he looked, you were there, smiling brightly as always, but his sensitive nerves have grown intolerant of you; as soon as he sees you approach, he turns away and hurriedly escapes your company. It scares him to feel so genuinely irritated by you that he doesn’t dare lash out. In the beginning of his friendship with the Marauders, he had lashed out at them too, but their determination for a close bond kept them together. He knows how persistent you can be, but losing you is a thought that makes his blood run cold and leaves an awful taste in his mouth, worse than any potion. 

True to your character, however, you manage to corner him after three days of avoidance, the day the full moon would finally appear in the night sky. It was only a matter of time, but why today of all days? 

“You have the worst timing…” Remus mutters to himself as you innocently tilt your head in question. Usually, as perceptive as he is, Remus would have answered your silent question by now, but he remains silent. The still pause stretches on between you, and Remus uses it as the perfect opportunity to turn away and begin walking off. However, you are adamant about not letting him leave and hug his arm to anchor him down — this is the closest the two of you have ever been. Although Remus never raised a hand at you, his violent flinch to escape your touch makes your heart stop. “Don’t. Touch. Me!” he growls lowly through clenched teeth, his expression making you freeze up. 

“I-I just…” Under his intimidating gaze, you deflate and confess honestly. “I missed you…I haven’t seen you in three days, and you’re my friend. I was really worried. Did I do something wrong?—” 

“If I walk away, then that means I don’t want you anywhere near me!” Remus glares coldly at you, his face crumpled into one that completely replaces his once gentle features. He is unrecognisable. “Leave me alone!” With that, he turns and leaves, a boulder in his stomach and a bitter taste in his mouth, with the still silence ringing in his ears. He needs to get a hold of himself; he can’t believe he lashed out at you like that. Hopefully, you will leave him alone from now on, at least until after he has recovered from his transformation. 

Remus was halfway down the hall when the silence was finally broken by a soft sniffle and a suppressed whimper. He stops completely in his tracks. He dreads turning around, frozen in place in his fear that he had made you cry. The soft footfalls that follow as you walk away prompt him to turn and rush to you, desperate to correct his mistake. 

“I’m sorry!” he shouts, his heart thundering in his chest as he runs to you. It isn’t until he sees your heartbroken expression and the tears falling from your eyes that he drops to his knees and hugs you around the waist, burying his face in your stomach as he repeats his apology over and over. It is overdramatic, in hindsight, but in the moment, he can’t think of any other way to keep you from completely turning away from him. His lycanthropy has taken so many things away from him, and now he is about to lose the one thing he would fall apart without. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean it. Please forgive me, love,” 

Never before had you heard such affection in Remus’ words than in that moment. You don’t know what compelled him to be so incredibly mean, but his softened, pleading eyes, as he looks up from where he presses his cheek against your torso, have your knees weakening. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Ever since that day, Remus was found to be always trailing after you, always touching you and eagerly leaning down to hear you better. He loves peering intimately into your beautiful eyes and getting to smell your sweet fragrance. He now insists that you sit in his lap every time you join him to read in the library together. Feeling you close and getting the chance to hold you in his arms is an addictive feeling that Remus will never tire of. 

“Let me carry that for you, love,” Remus’ soft whisper has you hypnotically handing over your books as heat rises up your neck, “I’ll make you to class, today,”

“You walk me to class every day, Rem,” you giggle and smile as he presses a kiss to your temple and nuzzles your crown affectionately. 

“What about it?” there isn’t a trace of malice in his voice, only warmth. 

“Nothing~” he doesn’t let you go easily. Before you begin walking to class, he holds your chin and tilts it up ever so slightly, guiding your lips to meet his own in a soft kiss. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” his loving eyes and soft words make you melt. You’ve never had a more perfect morning.

“Good morning, Rem,” 

navi. | more remus lupin

a/n : this is dedicated to my darling friend @cheriiepies who's birthday is new years! i hope you enjoy this short imagine/oneshot, my lovely! i just hope i managed to include everything you wanted to me to include. and HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE! I hope you're surrounded by all the love and happiness you deserve on your special day!

[slafastri28]

I Hope You're Doing Well - LN4

Note: I literally pulled this out my ass, but it just flowed!

Word Count: 2.2k (yes that is a lot for me) Warnings: Idk a lot of kissing at the end, little angst

“Hi Lando, it’s Y/N, I hope you’re doing well, I figure you are considering you just won the constructors championship, call me when you want to catch up, I miss you, okay bye,” you hung up the phone. You turned to face your parents along with Lando’s,

“Sorry kid,” your dad said rubbing your shoulder. The four sat you down in the middle of the F1 season telling you their concerns for their son, complaining of being homesick and lonely, which was not Lando at all. You had known each other as long as you could remember. Your parents all went to university together and forced you and Lando into a friendship like parents do with kids. It was awkward at first, but you were very social as a child, and hanging out with a boy a year older than you was cool to you, and if it made your parents happy you would do it. Despite being a year older than you, you were always the same height as Lando growing up. You fit perfectly in his kart, but he never trusted you to drive it. He was always on about traveling in Formula 1 eventually, and he was fine his first couple years but this year was different. 

“It’s alright, I wasn’t expecting an answer,” you gave the parents a half smile. You and Lando had lost touch after the first race of the year, after spending all of the winter together something shifted, but you didn’t know what you did to make him ignore you. You called him at the first sign of concern from his parents, but no answer, his parents even urged him to call you but they were rarely hearing from him as it was. Little did they know he would sit listening to the messages you left all the time thinking about home and being with you. 

Last winter your parents threw a big party, all their friends were there and of course Lando. There was no one else really your age there so you two find yourselves alone in your childhood bedroom sitting and talking. 

“I’m confident this year, we will perform better I know it,” he nodded.

“Well of course you will, and you are going to get that win, I just know it,” you smiled. 

“Yeah I hope, thanks for the belief,” he said.

“What are friends for,” that word friends hit Lando hard. He thought he had made so obvious these past few years about how he felt about you, but he was only a friend to you. The rest of that winter he was not his usual self leaving you questioning, he barely even said goodbye before he left for testing. You sat alone in your apartment finding yourself wanting to pick up the phone and ask him what you did wrong but you accepted he needed space. You soon felt something was missing as he didn’t call you after every race like he did last year, you missed seeing his smile, which you always thought was cute. Now without his constant presence, you discovered your true feelings for Lando. You sent him messages getting responses two days later, he wouldn’t take any of your calls due to being busy, but it was the time you would normally call last year, and you knew what was different. You began to leave messages when his parents went to see him. Each message started and ended the same way. 

“Hi Lando, it’s Y/N, I hope you’re doing well,” and ended with “I miss you,” or something along those lines. After his first win, you called,

“Hi Lan, it’s me, I hope you’re doing well, and celebrating this win, I’m so proud of you, I wish I could have been there, I miss you.” Your calls continued after each win he earned this year, each podium, each race he scored points, even in his worst races you still left messages, none being answered or getting a callback, making you long for him more. The season came to a close and there you were surrounded by the people near and dear to him leaving the same message again.

This winter he had not come back to visit his family yet, meaning you didn’t have that chance to see him in your time off from work. There you sat around the most important people in your life, as one was missing, holding back tears. His mother rushed out of the room picking up her phone and scolding her son in a message. You went to bed that night looking through the scrapbooks your Moms made of the two of you when you were younger, pictures of you hugging, your arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, pictures of you forcing a smile onto his face and him doing the same to you, so many memories. The books continued as the years went on, you at age 15 with a sign at one of his races and him hugging you after, your high school graduation, your college graduation, he was always there. Now this winter here you were alone a year from that night wishing he would come home. 

You woke up the next morning with a voice message lighting up your phone. You were stunned to see the contact picture, you and Lando as little kids. You put in your headphones and hesitated before pressing play on the message.

“Hi Y/N, it’s Lando, I hope you’re doing well, I am doing well, thank you for all your congratulations, I’m sorry I’ve ignored you this season, I will tell you more when I get home tomorrow, I miss you too, see you probably a few hours after you listen to this,” his voice was sincere and you could hear little cracks knowing he was upset. You could feel your heart racing, your mind was spiraling, what could he possibly have to say to me? This is going to be so awkward. What do I even say to him? Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on your door. You quickly fixed your hair before pulling the blanket up over your pajamas hiding any possible embarrassment.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you heard your mom’s voice outside, “can I come in?” 

“Yes, come in,” you put the blanket down, “what is it?” Your Mom looked unusually happy for it being eight in the morning, she must have already had her coffee. 

“Lando’s flight arrives in an hour, and we are all going to surprise him at the airport, I know you’re upset with him, but please maybe it will change things,” her eyes were pleading, and after the message, you knew it would be the right thing to do. You hopped out of bed grabbing your morning coffee before changing. You conveniently lived close to the airport so an hour was plenty of time. As you stood with your two families in the terminal waiting you began to think again, you had seen him on social media, which was easier to bury your feelings, but in real life, you didn’t know what you would do. 

You watched the hallway, seeing several people go by, none were the faces you wanted to see. It had been a few more minutes since you were distracted by your phone, but you chose to look up at the perfect moment.

“Here he comes,” his mom exclaimed. You shoved your phone in your bag immediately, putting on a smile. He dropped his bag greeting first his parents, then your parents, and froze when he got to you. It was like time stopped, and no one else in the airport existed. He stretched out his arms as you rushed into them. He pulled you so close, you felt your feet lift off the ground.

“Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry, I’ve missed you so much,” he began to cry into you.

“Lando, Lando,” you sobbed feeling his warmth. The two of you pulled yourselves together as you made your way out to your cars.

“Why don’t you two ride together, you have some catching up to do,” his mom winked in your direction. The two of you did as you were told riding in the “kids' car” back to his parents’ home. You got home before them leaving you two some time after your silent car ride, both of you trying to keep it together. Once you got to their house, you made your way upstairs to his room. You watched him unpack his things before you noticed the stack of books next to the bed, the same ones you had looked at the night before. Something in your gut told you to open one, and it was right, it struck his attention.

“Wow look at us,” he said joining you sitting on his bed. 

“I know, we were so cute,” you laughed pointing at a picture of you two at Lando’s 9th birthday, you were blowing out his candle with him. 

“Still are,” he said softly, the look in his eyes showed he wanted to continue. You closed the book and took a good look at him, you saw pain in his body language, emotional pain. He was different than the Lando you saw the previous year. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” you said resting your hand on his shoulder, “what did I do,” you thought back to last year knowing exactly what hurt him. 

“Y/N, hand me the book,” he pointed to the one from your high school years. You handed him the book and he began to frantically flip through it, finding one specific picture. You stared at it, then at him with a faint smile on your lips. 

“The dance,” you nodded looking ashamed. 

“That’s when it started Y/N, and ever since then I have loved you, I thought I made it obvious, but you only saw me as a friend, I couldn’t take it anymore, I was hurt, and didn’t want to waste my time,” his eyes stayed locked on the book. 

“Lan, I feel the same, it took me not having you present constantly to finally realize I have loved you,” you smiled. His eyes picked up from the book,

“All those messages were cries for you to call me so we could have this conversation, I started to think you moved on after the constant lack of response,” you sighed.

“I should have answered all those calls, I should have called back, I should have said something-” you cut him off pressing a kiss to his lips. His hands quickly found your face as yours found his hair, running your fingers through his curls. You both gasped for air after that, your foreheads resting against each other’s. Your hands moved slowly from his hair to his hands which remained on your face. He let go interlocking his fingers with yours as your hands moved to your lap.

“This, this is how it was meant to be,” he smiled, before kissing you once more. 

“So should we tell our parents, who definitely have their suspicions already,” you laughed. 

“Not yet,” he said laying down in his bed and pulling you along with him. You two lay there your head on his chest with your hands locked over your heart. You were at full joy in the moment, a moment that you didn’t know you needed until now. You flipped over laying on top of him. 

“So despite my horrible dancing that night, that’s when you knew,” you laughed running your fingers through his hair again. 

“I wasn’t much better,” he laughed, “despite your clumsiness, you still were beautiful,” he said grinning. You pressed another kiss to his lips as his arms found your back pulling you in tighter. You two continued, intensifying the kiss as you both lay now on your sides. His lips moved from your face, down to your jaw and eventually reached your neck, letting you sigh.

“Kids dinner!” your mom called from outside the door. Lando continued moving back up to your lips. 

“Lan,” you repeated whispering, pushing him away, “come on,” you smiled. 

“Just a few more,” he begged.

“Later,” your eyes showed promise. You fixed your hair in his full-length mirror where he stood behind you wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Come on,” you laughed opening the door. You two walked hand in hand downstairs meeting your families in the kitchen. They all turned to face the two of you standing there with intertwined fingers, both with red cheeks. The Dads gave nods of approval to Lando and the Moms squealed gesturing for you to both sit.

“Finally,” his mom clapped as you sat at the table.

“Come on give us a little kiss,” your mom added on. The Dads rolled their eyes but still watched. Lando pulled you in by your neck pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You heard your Dad’s whistle, you shot him a glare after the kiss ended. It was just like old times in the winter when you would have dinners, the conversation flowed naturally as you felt Lando’s smile beaming on his face. This was secretly what you always desired. 

[jjkbambi]

frat flu luigi mangione x virgin!reader 18+

summary!!! (smut inspired by this request) you’re set to interview frat president luigi mangione for the penn newsletter!

note: fratboy!luigi but not reallyyyy associated to that cheating demon storyline. written as a standalone but could be seen as a prequel if you squint. unedited but happy new years

warnings: long fic cuz we need a reason to be fuckin, sad bc luigi’s sad, comfort, an attempt at fluff, and of course smut, dubcon (he grinds on you while you’re sleeping), so dry humping, p in dis v (VIRGINNN)

luigi mangione, as described by his fraternity brothers: “cool,” “mega smart,” and “totally chill.” all phrases you could blindly draw from a hat to describe a stranger walking down the street.

surely, this couldn’t be your debut in penn today. a spotlight on the brightest mind on campus, phi kappa psi fraternity president luigi mangione. top of his class at a mysterious luxury private high school, started a hash brown business at sixteen, and, according to his linkedin, volunteers at local libraries, elderly homes, and animal shelters during breaks back home. he’s got a first aid/cpr certification, a bartending license, and a squeaky clean record.

“he doesn’t even complain on yelp,” you groan.

your friend, lacy, sits in the drivers seat, shaking her head. “maybe he’s just nice.”

you shoot a glare at her.

she raises her hands, defensive. “i’ve only heard good things!”

“oh, well, if he was really so nice, he wouldn’t have canceled on me a hundred and one times.” as if he’d heard you, your phone pings—his name flashing on the screen.

from luigi Hey pretty! Something came up today. So sorry. Can I see you another time?

“one hundred and two,” you declare, showing her your phone screen. at this point, it felt less like inconvenience and more like cruelty. his constant rejections, delayed responses, and last-minute reschedules were a relentless reminder of your looming failure to finish the piece on the phi kappa psi house. journalism club was going to fucking kill you.

“y/n, he literally could not have been nicer.” she finally puts the car into park. the both of you look outside.

frustration had been simmering for weeks, growing with every missed promise. almost two months ago, he’d smiled big and earnest, assuring you he’d meet for the interview—yet here you were, still waiting. the distance between you two seemed to stretch with every passing day, and you couldn’t summon the energy to pretend you still cared for niceties.

you’re outside his fraternity house, calling him, he surprises you by answering almost immediately, his voice low and hoarse, like he’s just woken up. “hello?”

“hi, it’s y/n.”

“oh,” he says, tone dipping as he cleared his throat. “hey, how are you?”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt. “i just wanted to talk—”

“yeah, i know ‘m sorry,” he tells you, sincerity to be debated. “i’ve just been a bit all over the place these past few weeks.”

lacy mouths, “im staying in the car.”

nodding, you hop out, a familiar sense of anticipation lingering. it’s not your first time at the fraternity house, but each visit feels different. the mansion, though grand, has a worn charm—earth-toned walls and overgrown grass, with boys constantly darting across the yard. trash cans overflow with aluminum cans, remnants of the never-ending chaos.

“no, i get it, i do. i, you know, am busy all the time.”

“oh, i’m sure,” he says. “are you free next weekend?”

you didn’t even have to check your schedule to know you were free. but you were already here. “well, actually, i just, um…” you feel a bit of your confidence deflating as you trespass their yard. your face flushes and you suddenly feel the eyes of the other brothers staring at your silhouette like curious dogs, unsure of whether to bark or bite. “i was just passing by the neighborhood, i was wondering if i could come over now?”

he yawns. “what? you mean right now?”

“is that alright?”

“how far away are you?”

“yeah, uh, i’m outside your front door.”

“oh?” he says, clearly taken off-guard. the embarrassment finally settles in. what the hell were you doing?

“you know what, never mind. i’m so sorry,” you flush, spinning on your heel and rushing down the steps, avoiding eye contact with the other guys.

you’re not sure if it’s your heart stopping or the phone call ending, but it’s in that moment that the blackwood door opens. you turn around, and the brown-haired boy steps through, looking disheveled, with dark bags under his eyes as if he hasn’t slept. though, despite that, he’s in gray sweatpants and a long sleeved black compression shirt.

“y/n, come on in,” luigi says, his voice booming, almost too loud for the quiet pennsylvania street. he glances toward the team of players in the front yard, bringing attention to you all over again. “this is the journalist for the penn.”

you shuffle up the steps again. “it’s called penn daily.”

“right,” he nods, eyes searching your body up and down. “you want a jacket?”

you’re in leggings and a tank top. you’re shivering. “no, no, i like the cold.”

the brown-haired boy shakes his head, grabbing one off the coat rack anyway and tossing it over to you.

“you’ll like the jacket even better.”

as he guides you through the house, the weight of the silence surrounds you. you’ve only ever seen the place during parties—neon LED lights casting strange shadows, tables covered in empty Solo cups and suspicious piles of random powders. it always felt like a place of unrecognizable chaos, where everyone was too busy to think about much else but the next round of shots or whatever game they were playing. but today, in the quiet of the late morning, the house feels different. the lights aren’t flashing, the music isn’t blasting, and there’s no throng of people rushing around. it feels oddly intimate, even though it’s still just as cluttered as always.

“is this what it looks like clean?” you ask, only half-joking.

“be nice,” luigi barks, tone plain as he rolled his eyes in faux annoyance. “we had a long night yesterday,” he gestures to the crowds of twentysomethings outside, one group cleaning off the mountain of soda and beer cans off the plastic gray tables, the other playing ping pong. “another long night ahead. you should come.”

the invitation doesn’t sway you, you’re distracted by his face. though his curly hair is neatly cut, and his chocolate brown eyes hold a quiet, dark intensity. his tall frame fills up the room, the way he stands commanding attention without trying. his features are sharp, framed by thick eyebrows, and his smile is small, barely there, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. he offers it to you as if it’s expected. there’s an underlying feeling you can’t shake. it’s like you can tell it’s forced. you’ve seen enough of him in passing (and in stalking) to know this isn’t the usual “luigi” you’re used to seeing at parties or around campus.

you bite the inside of your cheek. “you know, if today’s a bad day, you don’t have to—”

“no, babe, it’s fine,” he says, the term rolling off his tongue like it’s second nature.

in the short time you’ve known him, you’ve picked up on his knack for nicknames and gathered you probably shouldn’t be flattered—all the boys in this frat were entirely too flirty.

he pushes the door to his bedroom open, stepping aside to let you in. “shouldn’t take too long, right?”

“sure,” you lie as you slip past him, fingers brushing over the notepad tucked in your back pocket, your mind racing with questions you’re suddenly too aware of.

“well then, it’s no rush,” he says.

quickly, you notice the collection of allergy medication at his desk. a heinous amount of nyquil, half-empty bottles scattered among crumpled tissues and unopened water bottles. it’s almost comical, the way his organized chaos betrays the “untouchable golden boy” image you’d pieced together. his desk, once probably neat and deliberate, now looks like the scene of a losing battle against the flu. curious, you ask, “bad fever?”

luigi laughs dryly. “something bad, that’s for sure.”

you feel yourself sink at the admission. instinctively, you reach up to feel his forehead, your fingers hovering just shy of his skin. it’s a simple gesture, something you wouldn’t think twice about doing for one of your roommates, but as soon as your hand makes contact, he stiffens, his body recoiling ever so slightly. the movement is subtle but enough to make you hesitate, pulling your hand back as his lashes flicker up to meet yours.

“jesus christ,” you gasp. “you’re burning up.”

luigi doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze lingering on you just a moment too long, his eyes a little softer than usual.

“think i’ll be fine,” he says, but there’s an edge to his voice, like he’s trying to brush it off. it feels more like he’s saying it for both of you than for himself.

a pang of guilt hits you hard—a reminder of how you’d pushed for this interview while he was clearly feeling terrible. all those ridiculous, relentless messages, the nagging about deadlines while he was probably just trying to get through the day. god, you feel like an idiot.

you cup his cheeks, serious. “you should really get to bed.”

“what, and miss the privilege of being interrogated by the penn’s finest?” he teases, leaning into you. you’re struck at how warm he was, how utterly unprofessional you were coming off as, how awful it would be to pull away.

the article, you remind yourself, inching away. “if you pass out mid-question, it’s not going to make for a great article.”

“least i’ll be a shoo-in for the sympathy vote next semester,” luigi says with a wry chuckle, his tone light but laced with something deeper as he glances back up at you, almost as if testing your reaction.

“come on,” he reaches for your hand when you frown, interlocking your fingers and swaying you. he doesn’t pull you too close, something about the way he’s looking at you has you sure he’ll never give you the satisfaction, but your fingers interlock and there’s a hint of a smirk playing at the edge of his lips, smugness plain. “i couldn’t let you walk out here so fast. you know what they would say about me if they thought i let down a pretty girl like you?”

you feel your face go pink but your ego won’t let his flirting power last. his forehead was burning hotter than sauna, he probably didn’t know what was even happening. “you look like you haven’t even slept,” you say, matter-of-factly. “would you just sit down?”

“trust me, this headache’ll be gone before you can even say sto meglio con te,” he says, his voice a little softer than usual.

he grins as your brow furrows. “you could put that in your article. successful, speaks italian, looks like shit.”

“i didn’t mean that. i’m just worried.” ignoring the fluttering in your stomach and his persistent gaze, you turn your phone over. “i could order you some soup. there’s a really nice pho place down the road—”

“what’re you, my girlfriend?”

“mangione,” you sigh. “you’re being impossible.”

“baby,” he says, the word slipping from his lips with a teasing familiarity that catches you off guard. it pierces straight through your ego, sharp and unexpected. “i promise, ive got way more interesting things to talk about than allergies. come on, ask me.”

before you can react, another voice calls from outside, and you hear hurried footsteps approaching the door. luigi hesitates for a second, glancing at you. a younger group of fraternity brothers peeks in, looking urgent.

“hey, we’ve got a problem with the fundraising paperwork—someone made a mistake with the donations, and it needs to be fixed or we’re going to miss the deadline,” one of them explains, his voice tight with stress.

“who was in charge of that?” luigi asks, a lilt of accusation in his tone.

the younger twentysomethings look around, feigning innocence, avoiding eye contact. “whatever, it doesn’t matter,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes. “i’ll take care of it.”

he squeezes your hand before he leaves the room, saying, “stay put for me.”

so you sit on his navy blue bed, stiff and idle, your mind wandering as you wait. you text lacy and tell her you’ll catch up with her later as the constant sound of chaos fills your ears. you hear the house scrambling through the halls and luigi’s answering calls and questions, directing people, moving them out the way. the speakers for the party this weekend just got delivered, the delta 3 girls are inviting them to volunteer at their annual car wash, and there’s a leak in the basement that needs immediate attention. after what feels like hours, you can’t keep your eyes open anymore. exhaustion pulls at you, and without even realizing it, you fall asleep on his bed, the rhythmic noise of his busy life buzzing around you.

“y/n,” luigi exhales as he finally re-enters the room, his exhaustion evident in every step.

he’s greeted at the sight of your body sprawled across his bed, eyes fluttered shut with his jacket blanketed over your silhouette. he’s not so sure what comes over him, but he locks the door. your peaceful slumber is a stark change from the drunk mayhem on the other side of the door, and he’s intent on keeping the peace. the bed dips under his weight as he sinks down beside you, too tired for niceties. without a word or a second’s hesitation, he pulls the jacket off you and brings your tired body closer to his.

it starts off innocent. his arms are wrapped around your stomach, your body limp against his. he cradles into the nape of your neck—and you’re so soft and you smell so good, he can’t help himself. he tells himself he won’t take it too far. starting with small, sweet kisses against the side of your neck, almost tickling you out of your unconsciousness. you sleepily squirm under his hold and he’s straining in his sweatpants before he can make sense of it.

“you’re so pretty,” luigi whispers. it would be a waste, really, to have you this close without touching you. using you.

he grinds his hips against your plump ass. he’s so fucking hard, he really can’t help it. he has to have you, but he can’t bring himself to wake you—you’d been so sweet to him earlier, doe eyes wide with concern—he figures he has to return the favor somehow, right? letting you nap in his bed feels like the least he can do.

“you’ve got no idea how often i lose my mind thinkin’ about this, about you,” he confesses. the noise outside is loud, chaotic—a world away from the quiet intensity between you. it’s too loud for anyone else to know of the secret unfolding here, in the space of his touch and the weight of his gaze.

he’s rougher now, tightening his grip on your hips as he jerks himself into you. you were so worried about him earlier. you’d want this, wouldn’t you? to help him out, make him feel better?

his defense of plausible deniability falls apart piece by piece. one of his hands stray from your hip to your clothed core, rubbing you, desperate for friction. he groans into your back. you were wet, he was sure of it, he had to make sure of it. he slips his hands down your leggings and rushes to palms your wetness. he has to make sure you’re feeling just as good as he was.

you shudder at the touch, slowly bringing yourself from rem to reality. the room is hotter than you remembered, and you almost shriek as you realize luigi’s hands had been all over you. he’s quick to put his hand over your mouth, talking in your ear, “‘m sorry baby, couldn’t resist.”

his sloppy wet kisses are hot against your neck, so frantic, so desperate, so needy, his stubble unnerving you as you squirm under his hold. you can hardly make sense of what’s happening. “luigi.” you mewl as he grinds his clothed cock into you. “what’re you doing?”

he moans at the perfect blend of innocence and surprise twined through your voice. its undeniable now — he can’t spend another second not experiencing you.

“you said you wanted to make me feel better, yeah?” luigi grunts. before you can respond, he’s slipping a finger into your wet pussy. you jolt at the wild unfamiliar storm that grasps you, trying to turn your head over to him, to look at him, to ask him what the hell had gotten into him. he kisses you when your head tilts, his free hand wrapping around your throat.

“that’s so much fuckin’ better,” he tells you, stretching your core out with another two fingers. he’s so eager—so intent on making a mess of you, you’re almost humiliated at how easily you fall apart underneath.

you quiver and shake, and try to twist out of his groping hands, but he doesn’t budge, pressing harder into you. “you’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart,” he swears.

“luigi,” you cry, helpless. the friction felt so hot it made you light-headed. the pleasures storms out any logical part of you. “i don’t—i don’t know what to do.”

of course you don’t. you were entirely too sweet, too well-meaning, too fuckin’ stupid to realize how badly he wanted you. running up to him after his gym workout, bright-eyed as you asked him to hang out. not on a date, not even as friends, but for a stupid fucking college paper. he should’ve taken you right there, in the parking lot, let you scream on it so loud the entire campus knew you were his, saved all this goddamn time.

“you’re a fuckin’ virgin?” luigi asks. he needs to hear you say it.

he rips his hand from your aching cunt and you cry out at the loss of friction.

“yes,” you pout.

“any good journalist knows to use specifics.” you see a cocky grin etch onto his lips before he flips you over and brings you in for a proper kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as he sinks into you. you kiss him back. you wanted this, whatever it was. “tell me again.”

“i’m a virgin,” you admit, reddening.

he smiles against your cheek before kissing you again—“been waiting for me, yeah? you want me to take you?”

“luigi, please.”

“what’s that?” he says, cruel.

you pout again and try to please him, rushing into another kiss. he captures your lips gladly, but refuses to bring you to the satisfaction of salvation.

all too mean, he points out, “you don’t even know what you’re begging for.”

at this point you were sure you could get drunk off the warmth of him. if you bucked up into the air, you could feel his bulge raging against his sweatpants.

“i want you,” you whine. “i mean—i just—i thought you wanted me too..?”

“of course i do. look at you.” luigi grunts before he strips off his shirt, ripping down your leggings with a force that pulls your body down the bed with him. his dark gaze drifts down.

you flush at the sight of the wet mess all over your legs. “you did all that just for me?” luigi mocks. “you want me that fuckin’ bad?”

“yes,” you have no idea why but you do. you can’t imagine a world where you walk away now and never experience him.

luigi never had any intention of being nice about this. his morals and his plans for the night unraveled the moment his eyes found you sprawled across his bed. harshly, he grips your hips—sure to leave marks, hoping for it—before pounding the entirety of his length into your purity.

the stretch scorches, searing into you. you see white, red, and hell all at once. “luigi—!” you cry out.

“you’re so good,” luigi assures. he tries to pace himself as you fall apart underneath him. he tries he tries he tries—but your inexperienced pussy molds around him, so perfect and wet, he can’t help himself.

you feel everything but perfect. unnerved and wild and overwhelmed, whimpering underneath him like a sick puppy. he fucks into you like he’s itching to see if you’ll break.

“it hurts,” you whine.

“you look so fuckin’ pretty with your legs spread,” luigi says. “can’t get enough of this perfect pussy.”

you paw at him, desperate for sacred ground, grip landing on his arms, hard and toned underneath your fingertips. he smirks. “feelin’ me up, sweetheart? you like my arms?”

the sound of skin slapping overtakes your corner of the world. you’d seen him before, but never like this. you’ve never had anything like this.

“luigi.” you whimper. “i can’t, you’re so big—”

“i know, pretty, i know,” he murmurs, kissing the running wet tears down your cheeks. “d’you remember the night you went up to me after the gym? d’you remember what you were wearing?”

you can’t help but claw your fingers deep into his arm muscles, desperate to find a vice for the pain. “oh my god,” you gasp. he pounds into you relentlessly and before you realize, you’re rolling into waves of foreign pleasure.

“stupid fuckin’ tank top,” luigi groans. pleasure storms you as he gets more brazen. he pulls down your camisole, lapping at your tits, biting you, marking you. “wind blew over and i got to see your perfect fuckin’ nipples. wanted to tear you apart right there.”

“what? really?”

“had to jack off in my fuckin’ car thinking about you, about this,” he murmurs before smashing his mouth back onto yours—and this time, you feel more prepared to bear it, melting into his warmth, lips perfectly reunited. you’re shivering under the heat. he fucks you hard into the mattress, hellbent on breaking you in. you’re sure he’s accomplished it already. you’re dizzy and light and on top of the goddamn world.

he sees through you. “fuckin’ close?”

“i-i think so—”

“so fuckin’ stupid,” he muses. “stupid fuckin’ virgin, doesn’t even know when she’s gonna cum.”

“you’re so mean,” you whine.

“yeah, you think so?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous as his hand strikes your cheek. the sting blooms like fire, another cruel signature of his dominance, a mark left behind in his endless quest to tarnish the golden purity you wear so effortlessly. his wicked touch moves down to your delicate clit and the sparks of pleasure turn into storms. you’re done for, waves of white gushing around him as you cry out his name.

“oh god,” luigi groans. “such a good girl, creamin’ on it like that. so perfect.”

the jolt of pleasure within you only makes you more sensitive. this time, when his hands return to your body, they’re clamped around your neck. he’s pulling into you, punishing your delicate cunt. as you quiver and froth, his thrusts grow sloppy and he rasps again—this time more guttural, more intense—and soon enough you feel his huge cock twitch inside of you, sending streams of his seed into your stomach.

he joins your silhouette on the bed, his warmth melting into yours as he pulls you close. his arms wrap around you, steady and secure, and his lips press softly to your forehead.

“‘m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low and soothing. “didn’t mean to get so rough.”

you struggle to find the breath, then the words, “no, i—i think it was fine.”

he looks at you, his smile fading into something more thoughtful, his gaze deepening with quiet admiration. “just fine?” he asks, his voice laced with a hint of playful disbelief.

you meet his gaze, your heart fluttering, and with a mischievous glint in your eye, you hum,

“penn’s finest.”

MASTERLIST ! leave me suggestions and review me <3

[ghostmoon1]

heard you were taking requests! Was wondering if you could do anything about Ghost x shy reader? maybe something about them being shy towards each other...that would be so cute, thank you!!

Hello anon!!

Sorry for taking so long to answer, motivation has been biting my ass lately, but I wanted to get this done for you!! If you want me to add more to it, feel free to request more, I love getting requests!! You have no idea how big of a smile I get seeing a notif pop up in my inbox!! Anyway, here I have a bit for you!! Enjoy <3

Ghost x Shy!Reader

Ghost struggles with physical affection, in some way or another. Not so much when you are alone- but when he’s around others. If anything, he’s shy about it. He wants nothing more than to give you the biggest hugs in public and kiss you like nobody is watching, but he's practically scared. He doesn’t care if others see, but what about you? Is that something you want? He will give you a small peck on the cheek in public, if you are lucky a peck on the lips. As soon as the blush creeps onto your cheeks, he suddenly feels his cheeks become warmer, unable to pull his eyes away from yours as he adores you for a moment before looking away all flustered, embarrassed and awkward. Who knew a sweet doll like yourself could do this to a man like Simon Riley?

He knows how often you would love to ask for something, even if it's small. He usually watches as you have an internal battle with yourself, bouncing back and forth between the idea of actually asking him or just letting it slide and dealing with it. So, whenever you're both out shopping and he watches your eyes drawn to this one plushie over and over, opening your mouth to speak but clamping it shut seconds later, he knows what he has to do. Without a word he reaches past your shoulder, grabs the stuffed toy and places it in the basket, smiling underneath his mask as you stutter in surprise, trying to convince him that it’s not needed weakly. He cuts you off, fingers gently taking your chin and lifting your head to look into his eyes, “I saw you eyeing it off doll, we’re getting it,” is all he says before strolling through the isles once again, leaving you a blushing mess until you scramble to catch up with him. You just can’t see the small amount of blush that has blossomed over his cheeks, flustered and giddy inside after seeing your reaction.

At home, when you both are snuggled up on the couch together watching a movie, he takes the opportunity to see you blush even more than he usually does. He pulls you slightly closer, letting out a long sigh as he admires you for a moment. He lifts your chin for a kiss, lips melting against yours as he savours everything about you. “You're beautiful…” he starts, peppering kisses over your face and relishing in the way you giggle and blush. “Just gorgeous… I could play with your hair all day,” he continues, sweeping a hand through your hair to prove his point. He thrives in way that you blush, trying to bury your face back into his chest, only for him to continue his array of compliments, seeing his perfect doll go all red and embarrassed.

Don’t start with how he treats you at takeout and restaurants. He doesn’t need his darling partner feeling a lil nervous about ordering their food! He holds your hand securely the whole time, leaning down to murmur in your ear, asking you what you’d like. The price? Don’t even look at that doll, he's got it covered. You’re not hungry? He’ll buy extra for himself so you can pick a few things off his plate. He orders with, well what you could call pride. He’s ordering for his wife/husband. His future wife/husband. If you both go to your usual place, he knows your order off by heart, even the small changes that you get that no one else would normally think of. He’s got you covered doll.

[xoluvx]

hatred; glinda ❥₊ ⊹

hatred. that's the only word that came to mind. you absolutely hated her. the dictionary had an array of words to describe the way you felt about her, but hate was the one you could always rely on. she was selfish and way too confident with her frilly pink frocks and silky pink robes; with her pinned hair and pink lips. she pranced around the room like she was too good for you. half the time, she acted like you didn't even exist.

"are you coming with?" she asked. voice high pitched and sweet. you glanced at her, her hand steady as she coated her lashes with mascara. long beautiful lashes, it was so unfair. you turned away quickly. back to her. unaware of her furrowed brows and confused disposition.

"it'll be fun," she sung as you heard the chair creak and her heels clank on the floor. she walked gracefully. the sound of her heels creating a soft melody as she floated towards you. your head turned only a few centimeters gauging how close she was, but you'd smelt her perfume before you could even see the distance and you had to turn away. the hatred consuming your body. boiling your blood.

"everyone is going, why shouldn't you?" her voice was nearly quiet as she placed her hands on your shoulders so delicately. nails so perfectly manicured. you shimmied out of her grip turning to look at her with daggers in your eyes.

"why are you being so nice to me?" you asked with confusion. her brows raised and her lips frowned. still, nothing was out of place. every hair laid perfectly on her head framing her face beautifully. every lash was perfectly curled, lips perfectly rosy, dress hugging her figure marvelously. you hated that you'd never be like her. that no matter what you did, nothing would ever work out perfectly for you.

"i only want you to have a good time. everyone is going, why shouldn't you?" she asked with a defensiveness in her voice that sounded more like the glinda you knew. when she placed her hand on her chest and pulled back her neck as if you were attacking her, your eyes softened. her brows furrowed with confusion. her lips parted with intrigued. what twisted game were you playing? she vetted she'd been nothing but nice to you this entire time-

"i hate you," just as soon as the words had slipped out like word vomit, you cupped your mouth. your eyes widened as her shoulders slumped and her lips frowned. her big eyes eyes searched the room as she stumbled back trying to find something to hold her weight.

"hate?" her voice was shrill, full of disbelief.

"nobody hates me," she emphasized. her perfectly painted and rounded nails clung to her vanity as her eyes shifted. she was having an existential crisis as you stood frozen in front of her. you hadn't meant to say it. you're not sure why you said it. did she really not notice the way she treated you? did she not understand that you weren't friends? that you'd never been friends?

"i'm sorry," you whispered not sure what else to say. you were sorry. sorry that this is how things were unfolding. sorry that she was so offended when you had every right to feel this way. then she turned to look at you menacingly.

"sorry?" she scoffed darting towards you. her finger dug into your shoulder shoving you. she shoved you.

"you said you hate me," she cried out in disbelief. she stomped her foot and stood her ground. chest puffed up. brows furrowed. you could see the vein protruding in her neck. she was filled with anger and-

"why do you hate me?" and softness. there was a softness that took over her again and her shoulders slumped and she searched the ground as if the answer was on the floorboards and she played with her fingers like she was reevaluating every interaction and glance since the first day you met.

"you are pushy," you said without hesitation.

"you always need to get your way," you added not noticing the way you were inching closer to her.

"and you hate me," you stated now centimeters from her face. when she looked up at you, her doe eyes were boring holes into your soul. there was genuine confusion written on her face. the proximity of your body was making her nervous and you wouldn't deny that you didn't feel the same way. there was fire coursing through your veins. uncertain if it was from the loathing or from being able to hear her soft uneven breathing.

before you could continue going down your list, her hands were cupping your face. her lips ghosting over yours. her eyes challenging your gaze. her fingers curled around the back of your neck. arms wrapped around your shoulders testing the limits of her touch. tentative yet assertive as you stood still. you glanced at her lips. glossed and perfect. you glanced at her eyes. big and brown and beautiful and smooth like chocolate. you swallowed and cautiously touched her back.

upon feeling your touch, she closed the gap between your faces. lips molding so perfectly. foreign, but nice. what was this feeling? it rumbled in your belly. hunger. insatiable hunger. your fingers wrapped around the strings of her corset, absentmindedly pulling until she breathed on your mouth relieved of the pressure on her ribs.

she sighed, humming against your lips. you opened your mouth, tongue finding hers. fighting for dominance only playfully. this was a game you were both enjoying as hands roamed bodies. as she pulled on your robe and you tugged at her corset. you gasped when her hand ran under your shirt and she exhaled when her dress hit the floor and you pulled away from the kiss admiring her beauty.

she looked down shyly at her body before finding yours again. wrapping herself in your embrace. feet pitter pattering to her bed. her big frilly pink bed. your bodies sunk into the mattress. her legs on either side of your body. her hair falling down her face trickling down your collarbones as she kissed you again and again. hips swaying slowly. your hands on her thighs. your whimpers small as she teased and dragged her lips down your neck.

it wasn't hatred and it hadn't been lust. the line was very thin and you were balancing on it. it was an attraction you couldn't begin to understand. a feeling you deduced to the only thing you'd ever known..hatred.

when her fingers ran between your folds you felt the foreign feeling consume your body. when she smiled at you sweetly, you felt it rotting your teeth. when her dainty fingers filled you, you tossed your head back unable to look at the beautiful face in front of you. afraid you'd unravel and make a fool of yourself, but she held your face and you foolishly fell into the palm of her hand placing a kiss on her warm skin. your eyes never faltered as she moved her fingers in holy ways. in ways you'd never imagined. ways you loved. you loved it and you loved this. whatever this was.

[wlwsoccerfics]

Never been broken ( Leah WilliamsonxReader)

Warnings: mentions of depression, childhood trauma & medication

You have been together with Leah for just two months now after being best friends for three years. Which was practically all the time you have been playing for Arsenal with her.

The fact that you two have been best friends for so long made it even harder to hide the fact from her that you stopped taking your medication for your depression and to reduce the anxiety. You stopped cause they made you feel somewhat numb and not like yourself. Instead of talking with your doctor about it and mentioning this in therapy you stopped going to therapy as well. The truth would come out soon. You just didn't know it yet. Plus it was bound to come out since your mind has been somehere else on the field as well.

It was monday, 9am. You always had therapy on monday. Well you used to before you stopped going around 2 weeks ago. But since no one knew you didn't go anymore you always went to a little Café down the street. Sitting there for like an hour. What you didn't know was that Leah kind of suspected something was up because of the way you have been acting. So she was planning on picking you up from therapy to see if you are actually there. She knew about you not taking your meds anymore because she saw that the bottle with your pills was still full. Since you have been at her place for the last two months, which is basically the entire time of your romantic relationship. So the fact that you didn't take a single one of your pills sure had her worried. But she didn't want to jump to conclussions.

You were sipping on your Coffee when the door to the Café opened and Leah walked in. Waiting in line to order Coffee before picking you up from therapy. Looking around when her eyes land on you. In that very moment you look up as well and lock eyes with her. Frowning softly while she just looked at you with a mixture of confusion and...Hurt?

Forgetting about her Coffee, walking over to you. "Y/m/n! We need to talk." She spoke up. Using your full Name. You knew that she totally was upset with you because she only used your full legal name when you really messed up. "Babe, i can explain!" You said, biting down on your bottom lip. "Let's go to your place since it's only 3 Minutes away!" Leah told you in a tone that didn't leave much space for debate. So you get up, having already paid for your coffee.

You walk next to one another in silence. It was not the comfortable kind. When you reached your place you two sat down on the couch, jackets & shoes still on. "Want something to eat or drink?"you asked her. "What i want are answers! I have questions. Why are you saying you are going to therapy and then i find you at the Café. And i also noticed you didn't take your meds in weeks. Why haven't you told me about it?" She asked. You were playing with your hands now. "I didn't mean to keep it a secret...but the meds made me feel like a different person. I didn't like that! And therapy...we started to talk about childhood trauma and i wasn't ready to deal with that yet!' you admitted and Leah took your hand in hers, her facial expression softening "I am sorry you feel like that and that you are not ready to talk about your Trauma but ignoring it and stopping everything that helps you without talking to a medical professional about it is not a good Idea, beautiful!" Leah told you. "And you know you don't have to lie to me! You can always be honest with me! I Love you and want to be there for you! But you have to let me in!" Your girlfriend added. You squeeze her hand gently. "Love you too. I don't want you to think that i am broken!" You explained and a few tears run down your face. "Darling, you never have been broken, just bruised. Mental health issues don't mean you are broken. You are human!" Leah pulled you into her arms you hold onto her. Staying like this for the next few minutes.

After talking some more and just cuddling for quite some time, you called your doctor and made a new appointment with your therapist. Leah holding your hand the entire time. Luckily she was so supportive and agreed to go to the doctor with you the next day. The doctors would now work close together with the doctors at Arsenal.

The next day you got new meds from your doctor. The following day you had therapy with the therapist at Arsenal. Leah was with you, just holding your hand the entire time.

She really was your biggest support in all of this. Your girlfriend even came to your therapist outside of work with you and you managed to talk about your childhood trauma and how to cope with it in a healthy way. Leah was so proud of you for keeping up with it cause mental health was important to stay on top of. Anything health related was important really.

A little while later your new meds started working really well and you felt like yourself but way more relaxed and happy then you did with your old meds. And you got back to being the fierce soccer player you used to be after being in that little funk.

[littlemissgeek8]

I worked so darn hard on this, you have no idea. Between writer's block and a migraine and having the sudden asexual panic of "HOW ON EARTH DO PEOPLE ACTUALLY FLIRT?" it seemed like the universe didn't want me to write at all! But, hopefully I ticked both boxes. ^^;;; Even if the "angst" is more "wallowing in self-pity," hurt/comfort is my JAM. Once again shoving the bulk of the story behind a cut because it's almost 2000 words, oops.

=====================================================

Not for the first time that day, nor even that week, Varric cursed the name of that Maker-forsaken pony. It made sense to travel by horseback--you could carry your equipment better, you could go further in a single day than you could on foot... and, apparently if you were Varric, you could get brushed off your pony and sprain your ankle. Luckily, they'd been almost back to Skyhold, and somehow he'd managed to stay on the pony afterwards long enough to get home.

Still, he never could find a way to get along with the blasted animal, even though he'd been assigned to ride her for months. She sucked in air when she was saddled and nearly dropped him on his head the first time he mounted. She found every. single. branch. to smack him in the head with. She'd even folded her ears back and tried to nip him a few times before he started avoiding her head like the plague.

And she had the audacity of having the same name he'd given Hawke's sister.

Now, he was holed up in his quarters at Skyhold, stretched out on his bed, with a pillow under his foot and several more tucked behind his back. And, though he wouldn't admit it even under pain of torture, he was absolutely sulking.

He should be writing, but his desk was across the room and moving was a lot of work. He wanted to be down in his usual spot in the great hall, curled up in a comfortable chair by the fire. It was the best place for people watching, and of course all the juiciest gossip got whispered about right near him. The table was perfect for writing too, either working on his serials, jotting down notes, or writing the occasional report about their most recent excursion.

The great hall, of course, was a much further walk than his desk, and down more than one flight of stairs too. So instead, he lay in his bed with a scowl, doing absolutely nothing at all.

A knock at the door poked a hole through the gloom of his self-pity. It was timid at first, as if the person knocking was afraid to bother him, then followed by a louder set of rapid-fire knocks. Apparently the person outside had decided to get it over with all at once. Unfortunately, the gloom settled back in stronger than before.

"What do you want?" Varric called from the bed, his voice an irritated growl. A part of him deep down twinged at the harshness of his words. But he shoved it back down, burying it under his frustration at his situation and the layer of pain that swirled up whenever he moved wrong. He wasn't really in the mood for pleasantries or visitors, truth be told.

"Varric? I wanted to check on you, are you all right?" A soft feminine voice came from beyond the door, draped in the flatter tones of a dwarven accent. Inquisitor Cadash, the Herald of Andraste. The woman wrapped in a warning of "look, but don't touch" in his mind.

"No," he answered flatly. Then, after a momentary pause, "The door's not locked." The door opened with a creak, and the Inquisitor's round, curious face poked in. Her brown hair was braided as usual, but this time she had it coiled and pinned at the base of her neck. Not a bad look at all, really, if one was looking at her like that. Varric told himself he definitely wasn't. He was just getting the details right, that's all.

"Sorry to bother you, I thought it must be frightfully lonely up here all alone." She hovered at the doorway, hands hidden under her cloak and probably clasped together out of nerves if he knew her right. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"Its your fortress," Varric said bluntly. At least she asked, he thought to himself. Not everyone who had that kind of power would. "Don't worry, I'm decent." He'd managed to struggle himself into a loose pair of breeches earlier, when he thought he might try hobbling off to the main hall. It was after he moved his ankle just wrong in the process that he decided to stay in his room. The breeches he'd kept on out of stubbornness, but he hadn't bothered with a shirt.

The Inquisitor saw his chest hair on a regular basis anyway, this shouldn't shock her, Varric reasoned.

Still, her cheeks took on a reddish cast as she entered, looking at everything in the room but him. Her hands were still tucked under her cloak, and Varric sighed. All the confidence the Inquisitor had developed during Haven seemed to have cracked after they arrived in Skyhold. At least, as far as he'd seen--she'd been so comfortable when they'd spent time together in Haven. Had Corypheus's attack really unnerved her so much?

"So, what's so urgent you came up here to find me? I can't go on any wild adventures right now, sorry. Doctor's orders." Even with his valiant efforts, his usual sarcasm came out harsh. He wasn't really wanting visitors today anyway, even one as easy on the eyes as serah Cadash. It was frankly hard to wallow in self-pity when there was someone around whose feelings he cared about. Somewhat cared about, he told himself, even if it wasn't exactly true.

The Inquisitor laughed softly, her eyes crinkling up as she glanced at him. "No adventures this time, I think you've had enough trouble for a few days." Carefully, she walked across the room to his writing desk, before she finally moved her hands out from under the cloak and placed a covered object on the desk. As Varric sat up a little, he saw her remove the quilted cover to reveal an attractive silver coffeepot. Then, she slid her hands into the bulging pockets of the cloak and took out a pair of silver cups to go with it.

"Coffee?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. The Inquisitor glanced back at him with a smile.

"Well, you're not much for tea, if I remember right, and it's too early for alcohol, and you didn't seem interested in that cocoa stuff Bull had you ship in..." Before Varric could ask why that mattered at all, she produced a cloth bundle and set it on the desk before unwrapping it to reveal a selection of baked goods. It was a little hard to see from the bed, but when she held one up, Varric recognized the crunchy, wedge-shaped almond pastries he'd taken a liking to back in Kirkwall.

"Oh," he said, eloquently.

"I thought I remembered you liked these," the Inquisitor said, untying the strings of her cloak, "but I'm afraid you'll have to get up if you want some."

Flames. He did, in fact, want some of those tasty little pastries, and she knew it too. Someone must have put her up to this, maybe Nightingale or Ruffles. He'd have suspected Chuckles, but he knew the two didn't get along. He pressed his lips together into something vaguely resembling a tight smile, and steeled himself in preparation to get up.

The floor was cold and his feet were bare, and the slightest touch made him recoil at first. But, bribery is a powerful motivator, and soon both feet were over the side of the bed as he prepared to stand. Somewhere in the room, the crutches he'd been given lay where he'd discarded them in a fit of frustration. They were awkward to use and walking around like that hurt his pride even more than his ankle. Instead, he pushed himself into a standing position with a bedside table and what little leverage he could get from the bed itself, before lurching sideways to lean against the wall. The stones of the wall felt even colder on his bare arms than the floor did against his bare feet.

Step by agonizing step, Varric made his way across the room to his desk out of pure stubbornness. He only half registered that the Inquisitor had pulled his chair out before he half fell into it. Lifting himself up with his arms, he settled into the chair and shot a glare at the woman beside him. "That was cruel," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry," Inquisitor Cadash said softly, before shooting him a sideways glance. "Would it have been better if I let you wallow in bed all day?" There was a teasing quality to her voice that gave Varric pause. She'd teased and cracked jokes before, yes, but this felt different. Once again the "Look but don't touch" warning rang out in his head, and he busied himself by pouring some coffee.

The kitchen staff must have added sugar and a bit of cream to the pot itself before sending it up, because it tasted just the way he liked it when he took a sip. Odd, he hadn't known they kept track of his tastes. The almond pastry was just right as well, the dryness offset by dunking it in the coffee. A smile crept over his face despite his dark mood, before he noticed the Inquisitor watching him nearby with an expectant expression.

Varric cocked his head to the side a bit with a questioning expression, and Inquisitor Cadash took a step back. "Was it right? It looks like it was right..."

"Were you behind this?" He asked, an amused chuckle sneaking out of his throat.

The Inquisitor shoved her hands into her pockets and took another step back, bumping into the end of the bed and sitting down with a thump. "I... knew you were feeling down and I didn't do it without help. But the cooks downstairs let me do some stirring and I added the almonds... and I hope I remembered how you like your coffee."

The unbidden chuckle had given way to a genuine smile, one that softened his eyes as he leaned against the desk with his cheek cradled in one hand. It was always a slightly terrifying ordeal, to be seen. Varric had long relied on stories and fabrications and outright lies to keep himself guarded, but at this moment being seen wasn't scary at all. "Do you treat all your friends like this, your Inquisitorialness?" he asked, quietly pushing down a wish that the answer was no.

The Inquisitor elected not to answer, chewing on her lip and refusing to meet his eyes again.

Varric took one of the almond pastries and held it out to her. "Why don't you try one? They came out pretty good." Her grey-blue eyes met his for a moment as she took the pastry from his hand, then she stood up and put her hand on the coffee pot.

"Uh, do you mind?" she asked, indicating the pot.

Varric shook his head in reply. "I thought you didn't like coffee," he said, watching her pour a small amount into the other cup. "Something about it being 'too bitter,' wasn't it?"

The Inquisitor focused on dunking her pastry in the coffee, before glancing back up at him through her eyelashes. "It's sweeter with company," she said softly with a smile.

Varric couldn't argue with that.

Writing Challenge

Alright now that I was both sincere and pedantic(warned y’all I’m almost always both) here’s your writing challenge for the day. Don’t forget there’s no time limit to these, if you find it in a month I’ll still reblog it. I’ll take pretty much any BW fic not just DA. Reblog, tag, or link me!! My ask box is always open as are my DM’s! Without further ado:

I want flirty dialogue without physical touch OR flirty touch without dialogue.

OR OR

If romance like that isn’t your thing I want angst. Give me the longing. Give me the hurt/comfort. I yearn for yearning. Emotional distress???? I love that shit. I’m leaving this one wide open. Bonus points if you manage both categories. Look for mine later.

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Kingsguard part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

M!troll x f!reader

3.3k words

You still were not entirely sure what made you give in, though you were not upset with your choice. Ba’tual may not be the most dignified option, but he was still an option.

————

Ba’tual led you through the streets, winding his way between the crowds, light on his feet as ever, occasionally looking back over his shoulder to make sure you were still behind him.

The chill of the night was starting to set in now that you were away from the fire and the crowds, a consequence of a city in a ravine in a desert. You nearly had to jog to keep you with his long strides, thankful that at least all the movement helped keep you warm.

He stopped suddenly, causing you to nearly collide into him, “Here we are” he said, stopping in front of a door. There was no keyhole on the door, but a low light radiated from the knob when he grabbed it and a muffled click could be heard from in the door.

The door opened into a spacious room, similar to what you had seen elsewhere in the city. It was orcish in design, centered around a hearth and cooking area to heat the space, the only separate space being the washroom.

Several sconces around the room roared to life with a flick of Ba’tual’s hand and he busied himself with his armor, carefully removing each piece and setting it aside.

“Please, get comfortable” he began, “I’ll start the hearth in a moment, but it’ll be a bit before it warms up. There’s more than enough blankets on the bed so you don’t freeze”.

Awkwardly you sat on the corner of the bed, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as you stayed upright to watch Ba’tual. He was meticulous in his movements, each piece of armor removed with a high degree of reverence and carefully hung in its place. Lastly his mask, heavily lacquered wood carved in the visage of the Lord of Shadows, placed high up on the wall above the other places.

“Sorry for the wait, but Tsov’ka would not be pleased if I showed him such disrespect by just tossing my mask down”.

“Tsov’ka?”

“The Lord of Shadows, he does have a name, and he expects his followers to show him respect in all things” he knelt at the hearth in the center of the room and began adding wood to it. With a few words in troll flames leapt from the wood, “It might take a bit, but it should warm up in here”.

He stood before you in just the pair a fitted knee-length pants he had on under his armor. In truth it was not much different than you usually saw him when he was sparring or training, but here, in this light and context your breath quicken at the sight of him.

“Still sure, little one?” he asked.

You nodded, sure of what you wanted but unable to find your words.

“I want to see you” he slipped the blanket from your shoulders and knelt on the floor in front of you, almost eye level with you still, “May I?” he asked.

You did not know exactly what he was asking, but the answer was a resounding yes and you gave a small nod.

With the same reverence he had given his armor and mask he gently began removing the jewelry Bira had loaned you, each piece laid out carefully next to the bed, his fingers lingering on your skin just slightly longer than necessary with each touch.

He moved to where your top was tied behind your back, loosening and undoing the knot and untangling the fabric from around your neck. Before even touching you he folded the fabric and set it next to the jewelry.

His slow, methodical movements were driving you crazy. For all of his talk the last thing you expected was how slow he was taking everything. When he finally did reach up and cup your breast in his hand you found yourself learning into his touch, the anticipation killing you.

His hand was warm and his touch firm as he gently squeezed your breast and rolled your nipple between his fingers. His other hand now resting on your thigh while he rubbed small circles against the inside of it with his thumb.

Small moans escaped your lips and Ba’tual kept up with his exploration of your body. The hand from your thigh now moving up to grab at your hip, his fingers pressing into the soft fat that padded them.

Slowly he rose to his feet, towering over you and lifted you onto your feet. His hands found the waist of your pants and slid them down along with the skirt and your undergarments all at once. You stood bare before him, fighting the urge to shrink away and hide as he took in the sight of you. Where he stood trim and well muscled, you were soft and round, self conscious of how he would perceive you now that he could finally see all of you.

Without a word and guided you to the bed and sat you on his lap, your back pressed against his warm, bare chest. Once more his hands roved your body, kneading into your plump hips and thighs as he took his time acquainting himself with your form. A hand drifted down between your thighs to spread them and you stiffened up automatically as his fingers grazed your folds.

“Relax” he cooed in your ear, his chin resting on your shoulder, “One step at a time, ok?”

You nodded again.

He slipped his finger between your folds, slowly tracing you up and down, “So wet already” he murmured.

His other hand left its place on your hip to join the first one, dipping down to find your clit and rubbing slow circles.

Your breath hitched as Ba’tual continued a steady pace, your hips bucked into his hand involuntarily as you sought out more friction. You could hear how wet you were as his other finger stroked your center and your toes curled as you felt the building pressure of your pleasure in your core and between your legs.

“There you go, little thing. Let go and let me make you feel good” came his voice in your ear.

He kept his pressure steady as he matched the movements of your hips, letting you grind into his hand as you felt your orgasm build to its peak.

You moaned and cried out as it hit you, tossing your arm back around his neck to pull yourself closer to him. Never once did he let up rubbing your clit while you rode out the waves of your pleasure until you were a heaving and panting mess.

With your mind less clouded from lust you were now very aware of his hardened cock pressed against your back, twitching and throbbing as you squirmed about on his lap while he still slowly stroked your dripping cunt.

“Feeling more relaxed now?” he asked.

“Yeah” you managed to pant out.

“Oh? So you do have a voice again”.

“Was just a little overwhelmed”.

“Mmmm, I do have that affect on most people, don’t I?” he teased.

You playfully bumped your shoulder back against him.

“Are you ready to continue?” he asked.

“I’m ready”.

Upon your words you felt his thick finger press into your entrance and a hiss left your lips from the sudden intrusion.

“It’s alright, you can take it, can’t you?” came his voice in your ear.

“Mmmhmm” you struggled out.

“Good girl” his finger slid just a bit deeper into you, making you see stars. Your walls clenched around him, his finger thicker than any dick you had taken before and you struggled to adjust to the stretch.

“Nice and easy, see? Such a good girl for me while you let me get you ready for my cock”.

His words made you pant and squirm, the thought of how much more of a stretch his cock would be intimidated and aroused you. Still farther he pushed his finger into you, forcing you open more than you had ever been. The minutes dragged on while he painstakingly worked you open, every little movement from him made your whole body shudder and twitch.

“Too, too much” you panted.

“You’re ok, just relax. I know you can take it” his words were soft and assuring as he pressed the last of his finger into your overstuffed cunt, the tip of it rubbing against your cervix.

You moaned as you felt him settle deep inside you, so impossibly full from just his finger.

He gave you a moment to breathe before slowly sliding his finger entirely out and you felt your muscles flutter and relax after being so over stretched. Once more he worked his finger into you, still slowly but without pausing this time.

“What a tight little cunt, you’re going to feel so good around my cock” he teased.

At this point his words did not have meaning as you writhed under his touch. Slowly he increased his pace, trying different angles as he fucked his finger into you until he found the spot that made you come undone.

Immediately you were reduced to a babbling mess, incoherent words pouring from your lips as you urged him to keep going and he was happy to oblige.

“Good girl, cum for me” his words were warm against your neck and his tusk brushed against you.

You leaned your full weight back against his chest and wrapped your arm up and around the back of his neck again, allowing him to spread your legs farther and target that one spot better. He had been right, it was better than anything you had before.

For the second time that night you came. Your legs shook and felt weak while Ba’tual kept his relentless pace until he felt you go limp.

“Oh by the light” you gasped and came down from your high.

“Are you alright?” he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close and running his fingers through your hair.

“Much better than alright”.

“Good, because I’m not done with you yet” he wiped you hair back, damp with sweat, from where it stuck to your forehead.

It was hard to keep your eyes open, between the late hour, the alcohol earlier, and being throughly fucked out you found yourself nearly dozing in Ba’tual’s lap.

“Tired, little human?” he cooed at you, his words were sweet but teasing.

“Mmmhmm” you mumbled.

“I’m going to pick you up, you don’t need to do anything, ok?”

You did not protest as he lifted you with ease, nor did you open your eyes while you heard him shuffle around. It was not until you felt him lay you down on your stomach on a hard surface, your feet not even touching the ground, did you stir at all.

He lifted you hips up and tucked a pillow under you and you turned your head to look at what he was doing. Like with everything else, he was carefully folding his pants and setting them aside. For the first time you got a good at him.

Impressive was an understatement. You had felt him pressed against you while dancing and while you were in his lap, you knew he was large by sheer virtue of just being so much taller than a human, but the difference between knowing and seeing was now apparent.

Ba’tual must have seen the surprise in your face, “I’ll be gentle with you, just as before, I promise. Just relax, you don’t to have to do anything”.

He position himself between your legs behind you and bent one of your legs to push it up on the table to better spread your legs.

You felt him run his finger between your legs, “Spirits, you’re a sight like that. And still wet even, what a perfect little thing you are”.

His thighs brushed yours as he positioned himself, his tip pressed against your entrance and you whined as he slowly stretched you open once more.

“It hurts” you cried out. It stung as he forced you open, even taking his time to let you adjust as best possible it was still much more than you could handle. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lip, anything to focus on instead. Automatically you squirmed, subconsciously trying to get away from the source of your discomfort.

Firm hands held your hips down, “I know, I know it’s a lot, but you can take it for me, can’t you?”

“I can’t” just his tip alone made you feel like you were being ripped in half.

“Shhhh, I’m gonna help you” he gently slid himself out before rolling you onto your back. A thick finger now on your clit while he rubbed small circles against you, “Just going to give you some nice to focus on, ok? And before you know it you’re going to take all of it”.

Again he began to enter you, the pain was the same but his deft motions on your clit helped you block it out.

“Look at that,” he muttered, “Tight little cunt stretched around my cock. That’s why you’re here isn’t it? What sort of human would want to come to a city of trolls and orcs and minotaurs right after a war unless there was something very worthwhile here”.

The way he spoke to you should not have turned you on so, but it did. You had not come to Kor’mal seeking this sort of hands on education, but it had only been a few days before you had started to get curious anyways.

A muffled “mmhmm” is all you could manage.

“Now look at you, all teary eyed while while a troll fucks you. So damn wet even though it hurts, still moaning while I rub your clit”.

You liked this sudden change in his demeanor, though it was a strong departure from how gentle and careful he had been up until now. There was something deeply arousing about this show of dominance.

“Did you get what you wanted, little human? Getting to be helpless little thing while some troll fucks you? You haven’t told me to stop though, have you? Enjoying being a pretty little toy?”

“Yes” you panted.

“Good, because from the moment I saw you I wanted you like this. So small, and soft” his hands glided up and down your sides, grabbing at your chubby thighs and the soft pudge of your hips, “So different”.

Being desired for something you were often self conscious about was a strange sensation. Often you had batted hands off of yourself in the bedroom, keeping minimal contact on yourself, but now? Now it was making you blush fiercely and you could not meet his gaze as he watched your reactions.

“Good girl, you don’t have to do anything. Just relax, close your eyes if you want to rest, and just let me fuck you”. He held you in place while he agonizingly entered you bit by bit, the sting slowly subsiding into nothing more than mild discomfort by the time he bottomed out.

It was the fullest you had ever felt, wonderfully stretched around Ba’tual while his tip pressed into your cervix. He held you there, his own eyes closed and taking measured breaths, savoring how you felt. Slowly he began to move, even the smallest movement caused your toes to curl and your mind to go blank, his size reached every inch inside of you.

“Do you know how hard it is to go so slow with you?” he asked. “But you’re such a sweet little toy, it would be a shame to break you” and he punctuated his statement with a firm thrust into you, causing you to let out a yip in surprise.

“Too much for you?” a teasing tone in his voice.

“No”.

“Maybe I’m being too gentle with you then” he gave several more deep thrusts, “Maybe I can let a little loose then”.

You whined as he began a steady pace, already overstimulated from before coping with the new sensation of being so full. Every thrust filling you beyond what you could handle, his tip poking into your cervix every time and filling the room with both your moans and wet sounds.

It did not take long before you felt yourself getting close again, every movement rubbed right against the most sensitive spots in you and with his finger still on your clit you were lost in bliss.

Ba’tual leaned down on his elbow, his own breathing ragged, his massive form pressed against you and pining you down. Instinctively you wrapped your arms around him, clinging to him desperately as you felt the first tingly waves of your orgasm begin.

“Come on little thing, cum for me” his voice was so soft and low in your ear. The warmth of his breath tickled your skin.

You cried out for the third time that night and wrapped your legs around his hips, your walls clenching around him and sending waves of warmth through your whole body as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

“Spirits” his voice barely a gasp.

Your whole body twitched in overstimulated as he jerkily thrusted deep into a few more times. His cock throbbed in you as you felt the warm flood of his cum fill you, some how filling you even impossibly more.

He lowered his face down to you to rest the side of his head on your chest “Fuck, I want to do that again”.

A nod was all you could manage, your throat dry and sore from panting and moaning. By the Light it had been incredible. Sure your hips were sore from being spread for so long, and until now you did not know that your clit or cunt could be sore either, but it was all a good sore.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Incredible” you answered.

“Good” Ba‘tual slowly separated himself from you and you felt the gush of cum spill down yourself, “wait here” he instructed as if you had the energy to do anything anyway. He left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Annoyingly he had been right when he said it would good. Part of you had wished that it would just be ok, enough to sate your curiosity and move on, but it had been so much more than that. As much as he had said it would be a one time thing you hoped for at least one more time.

A warm, damp cloth along your thighs jolted you from your thoughts. Ba’tual was carefully cleaning you off.

“Thanks” you muttered, “Could you grab me my clothes?”

“Why?”

“So after I catch my breath I can get going”.

“No” he said firmly.

“No?” you questioned back, an edge of annoyance seeping into your voice.

“It’s very late and it’s freezing out, I’m not letting you walk home like that”.

“It’s fine. Walk me home if you’re so concerned”.

“No. We’ve both been drinking, it’s freezing out, and I’m exhausted anyways. You’ll stay here tonight” his tone left no room to argue.

Wordlessly he continued to clean you off until he was satisfied before scooping you back up and carrying you to bed, though he did not join you right away. Instead he tucked you under the blankets and busied himself meticulously wiping down the table.

Finally he returned only once everything was up to his standards, “You should really drink something” he told you as he handed you a glass.

“Thanks” you mumbled, grateful for the water, your throat dry and scratchy from all the panting and moaning and quickly finished it.

“Get some rest” he told you and settled down on the other side of the bed from you, his back to you. With another flick of his hand the hearth and sconces flickered and extinguished.

[astronautmike-dexter]

ASTRONAUT’S FAVE VEGEBUL FICS FROM 2024

This year saw an amazing Vegebul renaissance, and it's been such a blessing to be part of it! I have read so many wonderful fics this year and I wanted to point out some that were started in 2024 that have really stuck with me.

I have popped these into the following categories:

Multi-chapter - ongoing

Multi-chapter - completed

Oneshots

(Please note that I obviously have not read everything and have probably missed quite a few amazing pieces. Hopefully I get to my reading list soon and can rec some more!)

Take a look under the cut, ring in 2025 in Vegebul style!

MULTI-CHAPTER - ONGOING

Homeworld Lost - @astral-mariner Saiyan's under Freeza's rule. Bulma listening to Vegeta's horrifying origin story through a fixed scouter, told by the unreliable narrator, Raditz. I've been reassured we have not got anywhere near the level of horror the tags suggest. Fucked up, dark, kinda horny (if you're fucked up and dark as well).

Mission Critical - herpb4uderp An AU set in space. Enemies to lovers, with so much sexual tension throughout. The characterisations of the side characters are just as amazing. Absolutely love this one!

The Saiyan Accord - VolgaFjorgan Oh man, you want to talk tension?! Saiyan's are in an alliance with Earth, and Bulma and Vegeta have to work together while combatting unknown forces that threaten to dismantle everything. Tension, babes... TENSION!

Sons of the Saiyans - @mawrblaidddrwg MOTORBIKE SCENE. Sorry, let me calm down and start again... MOTORBIKE SCENE!!!!!!! ok, got that out of my system. It's not just that scene. I promise. It's everything. The world building, the smut, the absolute heartache throughout. Violent, gritty, sexy, amazing AU. Please consider giving this a go if you don't like AU's - I promise it will make you a fan!

When Heaven Takes You Home - @superaliencake Forced to work together on an important project, Bulma gets dragged into Vegeta's dark world under Frieza's rule. The tension throughout this is absolute *chefs kiss*. The author's first time writing fanfiction is an absolute home run, and I'm excited/terrified to see where this goes!

Lachrimae - @rozzingit Trunks from a future lands on Vegetasei and has to navigate Saiyan's, his father as a child, and absolute grief. The world building in this is next fucking level, and the flashbacks to the Vegeta Trunks knew are just devastating. I have no idea where this is going, but I am absolutely frothing this one!

Beyond the Stars - @twenty--one--violets Planet Vegeta still exists. Tasked with destroying Earth, Vegeta pops in to take a small holiday on the planet before its destruction. But of course, his plans are thrown when he gets one (1) look at Bulma. This Vegeta is as dark and violent as he is smitten.

Homeward Bound - @galexibrain Set in the 7YG, Trunks has been kidnapped. Vegeta, with Bulma in tow, plus a cheeky lil stowaway, track down the evil Cooler to bring him back to Earth. Beautiful, gut-wrenching, with some of the most stunning visuals I've read.

MULTI-CHAPTER - COMPLETED

Blue with Envy - @serenityhime1 The tag "Tension thicker than a snicker" is underselling this one. You want pining Vegeta? You want brilliant Bulma? You want what you can't have? If you answered yes to that last one, you might just be Vegeta. Read the tags before entering... or don't. Either way, you're in for a wild ride.

A Vast, Cold Space - VolgaFjorgan STAR TREK AU!!! This is one of my favourite Bulma fics. Yes, there's Vegebul (oh lordy, is there Vegebul), but the multi-dimensional, intricate take on Bulma is top tier. It tackles longing, grief, action, with all that delicious tension the author does so well.

A Heart Worth Believing In - @galexibrain FUTURE BULMA FUTURE BULMA FUTURE BULMA! Vegeta falls ill to the mysterious heart disease that once threatened to claim Goku's life. The only person Bulma can turn to is herself. If there's one thing Lexi loves to do, it's whump Vegeta and make us cry over it.

Illicit Affairs - @lawnchairthethird Oh y'all wanted a twist?! Listen... if you haven't got on the Illicit Affairs train, then idk what to tell you. This is a dark, sexy fic, with enough twist and turns to keep you guessing throughout. Babygirl loves a cliffhanger, and you will want to keep hanging on throughout!

Beyond the Field - @frandafwen fucking..fuckign.fuckhgfidf....igjfjdifd;..... this is a series of glimpses into the world of Vegebul. the btich fuckin wrote poetry for Vegebul. all of it is amazing, but I read the last chapter in a camera-on work meeting and had to force myself not to cry. A fucking marvel.

Only One Beast - @cuddlesomeone BED-SHARING BED-SHARING BED-SHARING BED-SHARING!!! starting from "bed-sharing...but Vegeta is the bed", this became a fucking amazing fic. I just... I will never get enough of BED-SHARING!!

Me Dedo - @saiyanmazen The gift that kept on giving, and then some. Priest-geta is honestly so brilliant, let alone Bulma being so devilish, leading the priest into the most carnal of sins. This is an absolute treasure, and will probably require some uhhh... re-reading... in future.

ONESHOT

Strength and Weakness - @astral-mariner Set in the same story as Homeworld Lost, this extremely explicit smut is jam-packed with tension, confused and pining Vegeta, bold and brilliant Bulma. The fic so hot that people regularly forget to leave kudos.

Persistence - @lawnchairthethird VIRGIN VEGETA!!! I absolutely headcanon Vegeta as a virgin (though ask me tomorrow and that might be a different story), and this fic is one of my favourite approaches to it. The build up, the dialogue, the smut itself, every part of it is amazing.

Mirai Bulma: an appreciation by Vegeta - @iamakynge It's in the name, but it's still... you won't be prepared for how brilliant and devastating this is. Vegeta honours Future Bulma's life, as well as his own growth. An outstanding piece.

Dynamics - @serenityhime1 Any time someone mentions this I go positively feral. Like Vegeta does in this. For real though, Bulma educating Vegeta on sex might just be my kink. And Vegeta being so animalistic, so alien in his approach to it, is also my kink. This fic...might just be my kink lol.

Bury Me Between Your Ribs - @rozzingit POST-BUU MY BELOVED!!! I said this in my comment on this fic, but this is the post-Buu fic. Devastating, poetic, a reminder of just how fucking perfect this duo is, even in their darkest hours.

Summer Heat - @twenty--one--violets ohjhghghjgh my gooododddd this is so hoootttttt. literally. and figuratively. just... beep boop brain broke. I did a cheeky re-read just now and nearly yeeted myself into the sun. 10/10 no notes

Mercy - @frandafwen oighhgfjk.... post-Buu. probably my favourite timeframe to explore. but not only that, the way this one is written is fucking phenomenal. I just... the way Franda can bring forward new things for a time well-visited in fandom is fucking amazing. Highly recommend this one.

The Vow - @mawrblaidddrwg Majin Vegeta returns under a full moon. Bulma is terrified, not wanting to lose him to the darkness once more. Though killing Goku is on his list, it's not the top of the list... guys, this is so fucking hot. So fucking hot. Majin Vegeta is a Hottie McHottie and I refuse to back down from this fact.

In Another Time Under Another Sky - @saiyanmazen When I fucking tell you... that this is one of the best things I have ever read... I am not exaggerating. A devastating look at what became of Future Vegebul. I can't even think about this now without tearing up. Simply brilliant. Also I think we can all agree we're ignoring what became of Future Bulma in Super, right? Right?!

[suguslve]

‧˚꒰🍷꒱༘‧— DO I LOOK LIKE HER?

synopsis: in which you, the new human transfer in Devildom realize bit by bit that you are only seen as a replacement for Lilith.

♰ pairings. obey me brothers x fem! Reader

♰ genre. angst

♰ a/n. first ever fic i’ll be uploading on here T^T lmk your thoughts (and dw part 2 is already in the making :P) also! this was inspired by niki’s song ‘did you like her in the morning’ & tyler the creator’s ‘like him’. enjoy reading!

you were nothing but a mere replacement–a placeholder,

someone to fill the gap in their hearts from her departure.

someone to keep them company until she returns.

you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into, truthfully. you didn’t know that you were only cherished, protected by them because you reminded them of her. but apparently, you've got it all down–from her features down to her little quirks, hell you two could be mistaken as twins.

it's funny, you think, how the gods above are playing this sick cruel joke on you, they must be laughing at your misery right now.

you’d first heard it from simeon.

“Lilith?” Simeon whispered lowly when Solomon first introduced you to each other. You looked at him, confused, and baffled.

“I’m sorry? you must be mistaken” you quickly answer, “I’m y/n.” you corrected him. He then shook his head lightly and posed an apologetic smile on his angelic features.

“Right. Yes, apologies. It’s lovely to meet you y/n”.

then next, from the brothers.

Lord Diavolo had made arrangements for you to stay at the House of Lamentation, demanding that the brothers take care of you, their new human student.

“We’re here.” said Solomon, as he helped you make your way to the door. “Now, I’m afraid I have to head back to Lord Diavolo’s castle, he probably has more demands from me.” he lightly joked which made you elicit a small laugh. “You’ll be able to manage on your own from here?” he softly asks to which you nod. “Yes Solomon, I’ll be fine, now go. Wouldn’t want you to be late now.” you shoo him off, both of you laughing lightly.

Then, you knocked.

The door opened almost immediately as you see a demon, who you remembered as Lucifer, waiting.

“Come in” his deep voice broke the silence. “Everyone is in the living room, I’ll introduce you to them.” he curtly states as he walks away from you, to which you follow him in. As you step foot into the living room you felt a pair of four eyes on you.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. She’s going to stay under our care during her time here in the Devildom. Now I expect each and every one of you to treat her with the utmost care, if anything happens to her I’ll be the one to deal with you. Is that understood?” As he finishes his sentence, he is met with nothing but silence as they all stare at you. They all felt a rush and mixture of emotions upon seeing you; you looked so much like….her.

“Lilith…” you hear them all whisper. You look at them confusingly

Just who the hell is Lilith? Before more thoughts enter your brain, Lucifer clears his throat and continues speaking.

“Right then, I’ll be introducing you to everyone. That one with the white hair is Mammon, also known as the Avatar of Greed. Followed by Leviathan, also known as the Avatar of Envy, and that’s Asmodeus also known as the Avatar of Lust, and lastly Beelzebub known as the Avatar of Gluttony.” you were about to ask where the others are when he cuts you off. “Satan and Belphegor are in their rooms, you’ll get to meet them sooner or later.”

You then politely smiled at all of them. “Hello everyone, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you all.”

A few months had passed after that.

And in those few months, you grew closer to everyone, especially the brothers, connecting and clicking with them almost immediately. However, the name “Lilith” never left the back of your head. How could it when everytime you’re out and about with any of the brothers, you’d hear that name being whispered by the other demons you passed by. You try to not pay them any mind but you simply couldn’t.

And then things started to change.

all rights reserved to © suguslve.

[f4iry-bell]

WISHING ON GRAPES

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

summary: grayson's car stopped at a random party where he meets reader.

taglist: @unnoodles @nqds @alwaysthefangirl @clarissaweasley-10 @benny1989fredd @imaseabear @never-enough-novels @elysianwayy77 @whatsamongus @sheisntyou @emelia07 @cassie6392 @objectinthemiracle @stargirl0479

a/n: hey guys!!! I'm sorry i haven't posted in a while 😭. I'll try to post all the reqs soon, and happy new year!!!

masterlist

Grayson left the small party that Jameson and Avery threw for new year's eve after 20 minutes. He drove around trying not to think about how it felt for him to just stand there all alone while everyone around him had someone. He couldn't take it anymore, he was happy for his brothers for they have found love but when will it be his time?

He was clueless of where he was going, he just drove around wherever the road led. But after sometime he realised that he was low on my petrol. He was hoping to find a station to pump some but it was too late as his car stopped somewhere he didn't know. He decided it would be better to get out, and call someone to pick him up but his eyes were fixed on the place he was. It looked like an entrance of a garden, decorated with fairy lights. He could hear music coming from the inside. It was obvious that there was a party going on inside. But it wasn't like the party that Avery and Jameson had, this one is filled with strangers. Something had pulled him in, his legs started to march forward.

Once he was inside he was immediately the odd one out like always because of his attire which isn't ideal for a new year's eve party. Ignoring that, he made his way towards a table on which drinks were placed, there was no bartender, no bar. No caterers, or anyone to help. He poured himself a drink, it was a bit foreign to him because how the place is just so simple. He was about to move away from the table but he heard a thud followed by an ‘ouch’, crouching down he pulled the table cloth above to find a girl sitting down there holding a box of what looked like grapes with one hand while rubbing her head with another.

“Are you okay down there?” He asked with a frown.

“Yeah, I didn't spill anything above, did I?” She asked, turning to him.

“No, you're good.” He answered, still so confused. Maybe she's anti-social.

“Okay, cool.”

He was quiet for a few seconds before speaking again with a deeper frown. “Pardon me, but why are you sitting under the table?”

She looked at him as if he asked a silly question when she was the one who was sitting under a table at a party. “Box of grapes, 20 minutes until new year, table.” She said that as if it's supposed to make sense.

“I still don't get it.” He admitted.

“Oh my god. Get in here.” She motioned him to get inside.

He didn't move.

“Buddy, you're wasting my time to think about what I want. So get in here, or go away.” Her hand waved inside once more.

Grayson reluctantly got inside, a part of him was curious.

“So?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it's a belief that if you eat 12 grapes at midnight on new year's eve you'll find love, happiness, et cetera. You know? Each grape is for each month of the year.” Her eyes were wide with excitement when she explained it.

“You believe that?” He asked. His immediate thought was that this is another silly thing that people came up with to make new year's eve exciting like the kiss.

“Of course! I mean, it's my first time trying, but we'll see. I have extra grapes you know? You can have some.” She offered him.

“I'm good.” He sighed.

“Well, you're no fun. You're already under the table, it's almost midnight, you have grapes—”

“I don't have grapes.”

“I'm offering you grapes.”

“I don't want it.”

“Just try.”

“Why?”

“Because! Nevermind, stay a loser then.”

Grayson scowled. “Just because I'm not participating in a silly tradition, doesn't mean I'm a loser.”

“It won't hurt you to eat grapes, you know?”

“Fine, I'll have them.”

“YES!!”

He scoffed at her excitement. Before either of them could fill in the awkward silence they heard people counting numbers in descending order from 10.

“It's time!!” She shook the box of grapes.

Grayson couldn't have imagined anything that happened within the last 30 minutes, his car stopping right in front of this party, him finding this strange girl under the table, accepting her grape and certainly not pulling her closer when the chant was ‘5’ and kissing her at ‘1’.

It was unexpected, it was like his body was working on its own without telling him.

When he pulled back, he expected her to push him outside, or take back her offer but she opened the box. “Let's eat before it's late!”

He didn't realise that his heart was racing until it calmed down. He smiled, and grabbed one grape from the box to wish.

[thomaslittlegirl]

help. — thomas shelby

you have your first period and you need some help, so you look for your uncle.

warnings; suggestive. incest but not really. age-gap. reader is legal age!!

𐙚

small heath is covered in a dark fog and you rush to get inside as soon as possible. you know that your family doesn't like you walking around the city alone without any peaky man to protect you, or to make sure that no one wants to be smart with you.

the guys at the door quickly recognize you and let you pass. you're looking for a specific person: thomas.

a problem has arisen and you don't quite know how to address it. the only person you trust enough to ask for help is your uncle, the leader of the peaky blinders.

you take a few breaths and prepare yourself for what's coming, gently knocking your knuckles on the wooden door. "uncle?" you call, quietly but loud enough for him to hear you.

"come in, sweetheart."

when you walk into your uncle's office you almost wrinkle your nose when you see so much smoke. it seems as if the man had smoked all the cigarettes in the city in his space.

“what’s wrong, y/n?”

you take a breath and look at him, nervous. "i need your help... i need you to look at something for me."

shelby frowns and motions with his hand for you to come closer to him. the man leaves his cigarette in the ashtray and looks at you. you feel a little embarrassed walking near him. you feel sorry for what you're about to do, but you don't trust anyone enough to seek help elsewhere.

you carefully lift your dress to the height of your thighs, showing it to your uncle.

"what the hell happened to you?" he asks, now leaning close to your body. drops of blood drip down your crotch and dirty your legs.

"i don't know." you answer honestly, and a bit of fear in your voice. "am i sick, uncle?"

thomas looks into your eyes and then at the blood that trickles from you. "someone did something to you that you didn't want?" he asks, his jaw tense.

it seemed like his eyes shot up with anger in a second at the mere idea that someone had hurt you.

you shake your head.

"did you fuck anyone?" he asks again. the naturalness in which his questioning comes out makes you feel even more embarrassed. thomas talks to you as an equal, as if you were one of his brothers.

"no!" you respond quickly, shaking your head several times. "no, never."

your uncle directs one of his hands to your thigh, squeezing it briefly. he seems thoughtful. his silence makes you think the worst. "should we go see a doctor?" you ask, scared.

thomas smiles sideways, shaking his head. his large hand on one of your legs trying to give you comfort. "no, angel. "

"so...?"

"it looks like your first period has arrived.” he informs you, looking into your eyes. "congratulations, sweetheart. you are officially a real woman."

you look at him, swallowing. you feel ashamed for having overreacted in this way, for showing yourself so vulnerable in front of the head of the family for something so stupid.

“oh…” you just say.

thomas hides a chuckle trying not to embarrass you. he finds it cute the way you sought his help... he finds it sweet that he is the first person to whom you tell something as important as this is for a woman.

"what am i supposed to do now?" you question. your uncle stands from the comfortable leather chair and gives you a squeeze on the shoulder.

"wait here."

shelby gets lost in the hallways of his office and you just stand there, feeling the blood fall and watching how it stains the neat floor of his office.

thomas returns a few minutes later, with a tray in his hands. "lean on my desk." he says and you comply. "pull your dress up."

you do what the man asks of you.

"like this?" you ask, stealing a nod from him.

"good girl." he says, sitting back down in his big leather chair. "now open your legs a little for me, angel."

you feel the color rush to your face, probably leaving you red. you open your legs slightly as thomas asks, and you feel a warm, wet cloth slide down your thighs.

the sensation makes your skin crawl and you seek stability holding onto the man's shoulders. your uncle cleans the blood that dripped down your legs with a delicacy that surprises you... a man as hard as thomas shelby was, treating his niece in such a sweet and warm way.

thomas takes another cloth again and moistens it with the jug of warm water again, continuing his job of cleaning you completely; from your ankles to the inside of your thigh.

"lean back a little on the desk and open up more for your uncle, angel."

his words make you feel a little strange but you comply with his request, sitting on his desk and spreading your legs wide for him.

"i'm going to clean your private parts, princess." he informs, and soon you feel his strong hand running the cloth over your pussy.

you feel ashamed, vulnerable. small as if you were a tiny ant in front of a big lion.

thomas finishes cleaning you, but you still feel wet... your insides feel wet and hot, but you decide not to tell him anything.

the cloths stained with your blood are quickly discarded into a bucket on the side of his desk, getting rid of the evidence as he arranges your underwear in their place.

"done, little princess. your uncle left you all clean."

you nod your head, giving him a small smile. "thank you, uncle tommy."

thomas lowers your dress and covers your legs again. his big bads head towards your legs, caressing them gently.

"i'll tell polly to talk to you and explain how you should handle this situation on your own."

you nod. "it's okay... thank you for your help."

thomas smiles at you, now giving you a squeeze on the waist. his hands go down to your hips and stay there, holding you for him. "is there anything else that hurts you...?" he asks, sweetly. "your stomach, perhaps?"

you shake your head. it's not your stomach that hurts.

"just... my breasts... a little."

thomas licks his lips and you feel his grip on your hip get a little tighter.

"let uncle tommy take care of it, princess."

[writersrkive]

hi!! i just read your spencer fic about telling him not to shut up. i specifically loved the fact that the reader’s first language isn’t english, i feel like the majority of the fandom doesn’t have english as their first language.

could you write something where the reader’s first language isn’t english and they’re having trouble with their paperwork because people tend to use a lot of difficult words, and spencer notices it and helps them out? maybe reader often stays late to finish working because they need to read sentences multiple times to fully understand them?

if you don’t feel like writing this feel free to skip or write anything else <3

(it’s getting late for me here but i look forward to reading more of your work when i come back from work tomorrow :)

have a good day!!

A little help never hurts | Spencer Reid

summary: Paperwork days are hell, especially for you, since English isn't your first language. You don't say anything to any of your coworkers because you're afraid they will see you as incapable of doing your work, but one genius boy might have been looking at you a lot and definitely notices something is wrong. He is determined to help you. An extra help never hurts, right?

genre: fluff, comfort

pairing: early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: English isn't reader's first language, mention of reader being from another country (I think that's all, but let me know!)

a/n: Omg, my second request! I loved the idea, thanks! I hope you like it rebel-ezra (does this notify you when I answer your inbox or do I have to tag people when it's not anon? lol, sorry). I'm excited to see how much you enjoy this one, and I'm sorry if it's not as good as you expected. English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Happy New Year, reader! I hope you can get distracted a little with this fic if, if you need to. You did it! Next year we have more people, places and things to know, hugs!

important: Are you guys interested in being in a Criminal Mind's tag list for my fics? If that's the case, let me know in the comments, please. I might be doing one if there's enough people.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

The feeling of pressure on your head and the emptiness of your stomach has stressed you since a few hours ago. You didn't have anything to eat since the doughnut and cup of coffee that García offered you in the morning when she arrived. But you weren't close to going home.

Paperwork was always a pain in the ass, but especially for the poor newest member of the BAU. Why is that? Well, your mother language wasn't English, and of course you had a good level —otherwise you wouldn't have the opportunity to study and work in the U.S.A.—, but the documents were too formal and technical given the seriousness of the issues being discussed.

“Shit.” You whispered, typing a new confusing and complicated word on your computer for the third time in an hour.

“Hey, do you want to go to my place after work? Tonight seems like a free night, if duty doesn't call.” Emily had approached you with a warm smile, knowing that paperwork was never easy.

“Thanks, Em. But I think tonight I'm going home to rest. It's been a long week.” But you gave that answer because at that point, it was routine to stay way later than your workmates.

Spencer was coming back from the bathroom, ready to take his stuff and go home. It was really late, so he thought he was the only one besides Hotch in the office. However, he saw you at your desk: your head resting on a dictionary, the computer next to you and several post-it notes stuck in the drawers of your desk.

He called your name twice, but of course the sleep you were immersed in did not allow you to hear it. Footsteps were heard in the darkness. There were just a few desk lamps on, that's why he was able to see your peaceful expression. He touched your shoulder slightly and when you opened your eyes, all you saw was a shy smile.

“Reid, what's wrong?” You asked, feeling your head throbbing.

“Are you okay? You fell asleep.” He whispered.

“Oh… Yeah… I'm okay.”

“Are you sure? You seem pretty tired. It's late so maybe you should go home”

“Don't worry. I have work to get done anyway.” You sighed, remembering how you still had to review a quarter of documents.

“What? But you have been working on this for hours.”

His comment made you blush. Of course you haven't told anyone how hard it was to review every document twice or even thrice to be sure that you didn't misunderstand or mistranslate anything. Somehow you felt that if anyone knew they would criticize or mock you. Not that you thought about your coworkers being mean, but through your journey of learning another language and moving from your country, you met all kinds of people. Also, you didn't want to be seen as weak or incapable of doing your job.

“Today was just a lot, that's all.”

“You usually work quickly, though I think I know what's going on. You keep a dictionary on your desk and usually carry a pocket version in your backpack, the days when you leave work late are paperwork days and you usually close the translator tab on your computer as soon as someone approaches your desk.” He explained looking around your stuff as if he was analyzing everything. “Is it about the language?”

“Yes, yes it is, okay? There, I said it!” Your frustrated tone made Spencer realise how tired you were about the situation. You didn't even try to deny it, you just hid your face around your arms, leaning on your desk —as if you were recreating the position he found you asleep previously—.

“Hey, but what's wrong with that?” He asked softly.

“What do you mean ‘what's wrong with that'? I'm supposed to understand everything that is on the documents, but I become slower because I have to verify and translate information that I don't understand because it is a more technical language.” The words were audible enough to him even though your face was still hidden.

“Do you realize English isn't your first language, right?” He tried to get you to look at him, but it didn't work. “Everyone in this work has difficulties when it comes to other languages. You don't have to feel bad because it's happening to you.”

“Does it happen to you?” Your shy eyes met his.

“Not really.” He answered with a hint of a cocky smile.

“See?”

“Well, I didn't say anything about me, you were the one who asked. Besides, I'm trying to be more sociable.” His comment made you chuckle slightly, but that chuckle became a laugh when you repeated what he said in your mind. “You are really funny, do you know that?”

“A-Am I?” The way you were looking at him, with a tired, yet cute, expression and a little smile, made his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah…”

“Well, I can also be of great help at work. Let me help you with the files.”

“It's not necessary.”

“It is. You need to rest, so let me get started while you go to the machine for something to eat. A little help never hurts.” He whispered, already taking the documents.

“Fine.”

A few minutes later you returned with an open package of cookies. You stopped for a moment, admiring the furrowed eyebrows of the genius boy who was reading the files with a lot of attention. Then you realized how fortunate you were for having coworkers like him. Or maybe was he himself the one who was so amazing that you would never get tired of working with him.

“Agent. Can I talk with you for a second?” Hotch's voice welcomed you the next morning.

Spencer's view followed your figure to the boss’ office and that didn't go unnoticed by his best friend.

“Pretty boy had fun yesterday?” Derek teased.

“What?”

“You know… Penelope said that last night Hotch wasn't the only one who left work late. You and our new colleague had a date at work?” His strong arm embraced the other's shoulders.

“N-No! I thought we were the only ones… No! Nothing happened!” Spencer struggled to say.

“Reid, can we talk?” Your voice made him turn around. He just hoped you weren't angry.

“What is it? Is everything alright?” He asked when both of you walked into an empty hallway.

“Actually, yes. Apparently Hotch received a request from the team's genius profiler to work with me on my paperwork days. So, you are having trouble concentrating on the files because of some headaches and need someone to work with?” As you spoke your tone of voice slowly reflected, with a mocking tone, that you knew perfectly well why Spencer had spoken to Hotch.

“Am… Yeah. Headaches are the worst.” He whispered looking to the floor.

“Thanks, Spence.” You said with sincere gratitude. Spencer looked at you again and felt a weight lift off his shoulders when he realized that you weren't mad at him.

“Sure. Whatever you need, I'm here for you… as coworkers, of course!” His voice got a little higher when he clarified immediately.

You were about to walk past him to return with the others, but then he spoke again. “Do you think maybe we can go and have coffee on a free day? I mean, I can help you with the words that are difficult for you. And, actually, I was thinking that I might need help with your language too. We can help each other, you know?” He gulped.

“Sure. A little help never hurts.” You smiled and walked away hiding a smile while Spencer was left alone, standing in the middle of the hallway, unable to believe that he had just asked you out. “Hotch is gonna kill me if he finds out…”

[the-universal-sun]

Hiii! I'm the Anon who asked about Ford's reaction to Poindexter's name. (I only saw you answered my question now, bc I was busy with school (last year of highschool is exhausting))

And I would absolutely looove a small drabble about Grunkle Ford's reaction to Poindexter's name...

... Have a nice Day! (Or whatever else depending on your time zone...)

Here's a drabble of Ford's reaction to Poindexter's name (and some Poindexter lore perhaps...lol) It's not so much focused on our Little Lee as it is Stanford, so I apologize if you were wanting more of that. If that's the case, let me know and I can write a new piece for you! But! Thank you so much for the request, my lovely anon! I hope your last year of high school finishes well and happily for you, and I hope that you're enjoying your break! Sorry it took so long to get to this, uni is giving me the run around, too. So if you're still here, thank you so much for your patience! I loved writing this so much, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

As always, I am open for helpful advice and criticisms!

Please enjoy :-)

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Stanford watched as Stanley played with his new dinosaur toys, making small growling and roaring noises every now and then as he clashes the toys together in a make believe fight. His old and forlorn looking teddy sat closely in his lap. Looking at the toy did make Ford feel the slightest bit guilty-Stanley bad kept it so close to him after he tried to take it and put it away, foolishly believing his gift of a stuffed Opossum would be better to play with. But the older toy looked decades old and he didn’t know if it was ever washed or if time had stained the poor thing, Ford wanted to put the plush up to keep it safe from falling apart. He knows better now, how precious the old toy bear was to Stanley, having been his only companion for close to 40 years, one of the few comfort items he allowed himself to have and keep when the world felt too Big for him. Ford sighs to himself, shaking the forlorn thoughts off and walking over to his brother, kneeling down to get on his level he runs a gentle hand through Stanley's hair, a gentle hum coming as a response.

"Lee, may I look at your friend here?" Stanley eyes him cautiously, tugging the stuffed bear close to his chest and turning, hiding it from him. I deserve this, he thinks, for trying to take away his toy. He inhales deeply and shakes his head again, he doesn't have time for these thoughts, he waits a moment and gathers himself, smiling gently at Stanley, "It's alright, I won't take him, Lee. I just want to look at him, I haven't had the chance to really be introduced to him, I don't even know his name!" Ford goes for a gentle laugh, this is what his research has told him to do. Be easy and soft-but firm when needed-when caring for someone in Stanley's headspace. He's never had to do "gentle" before, so this is a work in progress, but it seems he may have hit the mark; his brother looks less suspicious of him and more shy. He's blushing, even, the image so cute Ford wishes he had his journal so he could get a rough sketch of it. He'll have to draw it from memory later.

"Please, Lee? I promise you can keep holding him, I just want to get to know your friend here." He hopes Stanley has forgiven him enough from that incident. Ford smiles as his brother holds out the toy, still keeping a firm grip on it's sides. The stuffed bear has wire framed glassed and is wearing a yellow-plaid sweater vest-or it could have just yellowed with time, even with the care his brother has shown for it-and on the vest looks to be a pocket with some felt pens sewn into it. He recognizes that stitch work, Stanley must have hand sewn these himself! Oh the talent his brother has, remarkable! Ford just hopes he didn't sew these when regressed...

"His name isss-name is...Poindexter..." Stanley's voice came slowly and softly, he was obviously concentration on speaking correctly for Ford-not that he cared for proper pronunciation. Well, he does, but not from his brother when he's regressed, when he's his Little Lee. Ford has also grown used to his brother not pronouncing words correctly, mostly as a way to annoy him...Ford's racing thoughts stop. Poindexter? Stanley named the bear after...him? It's obvious now that that he's looking at the bear, the glasses, the rather geekish attire Ford was known the wear in his youth-college gave him some fashion sense at least-with the little pens lovingly hand sewn into the bear's vest? When Stanley said that some older lady at the shelter he was at when he was around 18-19-even thinking about that made a jolt of anger spark in him, Stanley was just a baby-made a stuffed bear just for him, Ford admittedly did not think it was for him and she just said that to cheer a-a child up. But, seeing as how only the felt pens are new, Ford believes him. Believes that some lady asked Stanley who the person he wanted most at the time was and then made a plush toy version of said person, a toy which Stanley has kept, loved, and cherished for 40 years. A toy which has helped him through his darkest hours and comforted him when he felt Little. A toy modeled after...him...

"No no, don't cw-cry. M'sorry, for naming him-" Ford didn't even realize he had begun to cry until his brother frantically tried to console him, hands clumsily wiping tears away. He gently grabs his brother's wrists and pulls them away before lunging and pulling his Little brother-his Lee-into the tightest hug he could, burying his face in his brother's head to hide any more tears that may spill. His brother should never be sorry, not for this.

"No, it's okay, Lee. Don't apologize. I'm so so very happy that you named him Poindexter. I think it's a rather fitting name for him, a smart name. Good job, Lee, and thank you...I'm-" Ford has to clear his throat, his emotions getting to him. Moses, he loved his brother so much, "I'm glad he was there to help and comfort you when I...when I wasn't able to." He wasn't able to be there for Lee for such a long time, but now that he's back and they've made up, he's going to make sure that they spend the rest of their lives together, sailing across the seas like their dream has always been.

Ford pulls back from the hug, wiping some stray tears from his eyes. Lee looks utterly confused, the adorable tilt to his eyebrows tearing a laugh out of Ford, who quickly reassures Stanley that he's not laughing at him, accentuating his point with a hair ruffle. His brother just sits there in confusion, a stray finger gravitating towards his mouth to be chewed on. Ford bends down over his knees to face Poindexter, still held to Stan's chest in a firm grip, and reaches a hand out, two fingers gingerly shaking a cloth paw up and down.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Poindexter. Thank you for taking care of my brother..."

[martygraciesversion381]

BLOWING SMOKE

charles leclerc x reader

Part2 of this

Warnings!: angst like always, alexandra being the mean one (NO HATE I LOVE ALEX WITH ALL OF MY HEART SHES A GODDESS), smau, crying and that's all!!

a/n: idk what happened with me with these two fics they’re extremely sad while normally I just put happy endings well enjoy this and I’ll hope that my stories will get happier like❤️‍🩹this is extremely short! (from Gracie’s song blowing smoke) 

1 year ago. That was the last time you talked to Charles after you broke up. He put you through so much pain and you cut all the contact with him not to get hurt again. You stopped following him on social media, blocked his number and stopped watching his races. You keep telling everyone that you’re fine even if it’s not the truth.

 f1gossip: Charles leclerc the famous formula 1 driver gets a new girlfriend Alexandra Saint-Mleux

This was the first notification you saw this  morning on your phone. You looked at the pictures and saw Charles and her holding each other and leo and you couldn’t help but feel hurt at the reminder that you once were this girl. You were tempted to text Charles and that’s what you did. 

 Was all you sent to him. You got ready and headed to your work. While walking you bumped into someone much taller than you. "Sorry it’s my fault I wasn’t looking" you apologise before looking at the stranger’s face and meeting those eyes the ones that made you fall in love and broke your heart. Charles. The picture of him holding her played nonstop in your mind and you wanted to throw up. 

You immediately walked away before Charles could say anything and noticed a girl walking past you and his way. Alexandra. She glanced at you before going to her boyfriend. Your work day was extremely exhausting and when you came back home you showered before ordering a pizza and watching a random tv show. 

Your phone buzzed with a message and you looked at it realising that it was a text from charles.

The text said then, a dm on instagram from Alexandra popped up on your screen and you read it.

You were nearly shocked by it but then remember how girls tended to be overprotective when they were with Charles. You didn’t want to answer her directly, instead you posted a picture of you on your couch.

It was clearly directed to Alexandra. Charles liked your post clearly not understanding the real meaning. 

A few days after, you were at a bar waiting for Charles. He asked you to talk to try and become friends again. You saw him from afar and smiled at him. When he smiled back with his dimples full on display, you could swear that you saw your heart jumping out of your chest. 

"Hi" he said sitting in front of you. "Hi" you said back smiling at him. "How are you? How’s it going with Alexandra?" He hesitated before answering. "I’m not that good but Alexandra's helping me keeping my head up so yeah things are good between us." You smile softly. "You deserve happiness Charles…I hope on day I’ll find it to." He smiled at you sadly. "She’ll be happy to meet you y’know" he said attempting to lighten the mood. "I’ll be happy to see you more too." He leaned a bit closer. "We…we can’t Charles you have a girlfriend" you say before storming away. 

You got to your house and decided to make an instagram post to clarify to everyone that it wasn’t really over between you and Charles for you that the pain was still here. 

Charles phone buzzed with a notification. He looked down at it and opened it to see a picture of you crying with mascara staining your cheeks.

Once he read it he realised that your story wasn’t going to end like that. That another chapter could change everything.

a/n: guess what’s coming? Another chapter! 

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