#they didn’t come out as bright as I would’ve liked but whatevs

[thegreatarlecchina]

During todays stream someone in chat brought up the idea of the Star Palace crew doing a cookie making contest. So I decided to to make what I thought Taki would prepare, some Polvorones Tricolor! (Colored to match his favorite lady of course~)

[lnfours]

* ✰. — birds of a feather | l.n

summary: i’ll love you til the day that i die.

warnings: the result of the new billie eilish album being on repeat and me having this song stuck in my head, so this was born. fluff, fluff and more fluff bc i said so. slowly getting my creative juices back, so bear with me.

masterlist | soundtrack

you hadn’t been looking for anything when you had met lando. a freshly graduated student who finally had time to find interest in their personal life, rather then spend their time consumed with textbooks in front of them, trying to navigate your way through the chaotic mess of life.

but the moment the curly haired brit bumped into you in the paddock, sending your notes and fresh cup of coffee all over you and the ground, you were doomed. falling head first into the comforting chaos that was lando norris.

and you thanked your stars every morning when you woke up that you had been running late that day, or else you would’ve never met the sleeping boy next to you. wouldn’t have ever gotten the chance to get to know the sought after driver with a big heart and who loves with his whole soul.

you smiled to yourself, sitting in the bed and taking in the way he slept peacefully, not aware how pretty he looked in the morning sun as it peaked in through your blinds. his cheek pressed against the pillow, his lips slightly parted as he slept.

you couldn’t help but reach out and brush the stray curl away from his face, smiling softly as he stirred in his sleep at your touch. your silent way to keep going, your nails scratching at his scalp gently. a soft hum came from him, followed by the gorgeous sight of his green eyes shining up at you. his eyes fully adjusting to the brightness as he squinted, his hand reaching out to yours.

“c’mere,”

his voice was hoarse and sleep coated, but it never failed to send shivers down your spine. you scooted closer, letting him pull you into his side. your face nuzzled in his bare shoulder, his head laying on top of yours.

“we need to be up soon,” you said, poking his ribs gently, “your family’s coming to see the new house and have dinner, remember?”

he didn’t, actually. and if it wasn’t for you, he’d be certain he’d miss all of his meetings, call times, and hell, even sometimes the start of his races. thankfully, you were never far from him on the pitlane. the perks of working with sky, who he should really thank. he’d make a mental note to do it next race. right now, he was going to enjoy the peaceful month he got to spend with you. uninterrupted peace, free time. where you got to whatever you wanted, wherever you wanted.

he groaned, nuzzling his face into your hair. you laughed softly, “lando,”

“i like when you say my name,” he mumbled, “say it again.”

you chuckled, and in your best flirty tone you could muster up in the moment, you did, “lando,”

he pressed a soft kiss to the skin of your neck, right where your neck and collarbone met. his favorite spot to kiss whenever he teased you because he knew you were ticklish.

and as if on queue, you giggled, shoving his head from your neck, “stop it,”

“just five more minutes,” he pleaded, “with my girl, in our bed, that’s all i ask.”

you sighed, “fine, but not one second longer.”

he smiled, knowing he could always get you to fold. you hated to admit it, but you’d always cave for him. do whatever he wanted. he had you wrapped around his finger and you had him wrapped around yours. smitten for each other, young in love, whatever you wanted to call it, you were it.

“how’d you sleep?” you asked, finger tips tracing the lines in your mind that you drew with your fingers every morning. connecting the moles on his skin, from his shoulders to his chest and down to his sides. your own little routine you had incorporated, a habit you picked up after the first night you spent together a year and a half ago.

“good until you woke me up.”

“you love when i wake you up.”

“you’re right,” he mumbled, “getting to see that pretty face every morning is the highlight of my day.”

you chuckled, leaning up on your elbow, reaching around and grabbing his cheek into your hand. he smiled softly as you leaned down, pressing your lips to his.

he pulled away, a smile on his lips as they brushed against yours, “and your morning kisses, i love waking up to your lips on mine, or on my-“

you shook your head, laughing and covering his face with your pillow before pulling yourself out from the covers, “alright, time to get up!”

“that wasn’t five minutes!” he gasped, tossing your pillow your way softly, teasingly. you laughed, walking into the connected bathroom, calling back to him.

“long enough! you killed the romantic mood,”

“i’m only speaking my truth, baby,” he said, footsteps joining you in the bathroom, watching him lean against the doorway out of the corner of your eye, “is a man not allowed to speak his truth?”

you popped the toothbrush in your mouth, sending him a glare. he laughed, pressing a kiss to your head before grabbing his own toothbrush from his side of the sink. he joined you in brushing your teeth, wrapping an arm around your waist. you smiled softly, trying to ignore how good he looked. sweatpants loosely hanging around his waist, bare chest on full display, curls wild and in serious need of taming.

you two looked good together, and even though he wasn’t necessarily considered ‘tall’ he still stood a few inches above you. his green eyes met yours in the mirror, and he knew you were subtly checking him out. he sent you a wink and you rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you finished brushing your teeth.

he finished shortly after you, watching you as you rummaged around in your drawer. you pulled out the skincare he had seen you put on every morning and night, and even has put on for you after nights where you’ve had one too many vodka redbulls.

he leaned against the counter, watching you in the mirror as you rubbed the product into your skin, “can i have some?”

you giggled, moving to stand between his legs. you squeezed a little bit of the moisturizer onto your fingers, rubbing into his face. he grinned softly at your gentle touch, “that smells good.”

you nodded, “and it has sunscreen in it, it’s good for you.”

he motioned towards your drawer, “do you have any lip balm?”

you hummed, putting the tube back before grabbing the lip balm. you went to hand it to him but he raised an eyebrow at you. you sighed with a laugh, shaking your head.

“gimme,” you said, grabbing his chin and swiping the lip balm against his pursed lips. you couldn’t help but giggle again, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips when you were done, “there.”

he rubbed his lips together and hummed, “hmm, is that coconut?”

you nodded, “like it?”

he nodded, pulling you in closer by your waist, “love it.”

you grabbed his wrist, checking the time on his watch, “they’ll be here in an hour.”

“so what i’m hearing is-“

“no,” you shoved his shoulder with another laugh, “what im saying is that i need to run to the store and get flowers for the vase on the table.”

“who needs flowers,” he said, pressing a kiss to your chest, “when i could have you back in my bed, all to myself for a little while longer until i have to share you for the rest of the day.”

you ran a hand through his hair, his eyes looking up to meet yours, “as tempting as it sounds, i really do have to run to the store. plus, i have to get some stuff for dinner.”

he sighed dramatically, “okay,”

you walked into the closet, rummaging through his side and stealing one of his hoodies and fishing out a pair of sweatpants. a quick outfit to run a few last minute errands.

he had found his way to the kitchen, standing at the coffee pot. you pinched his side, kissing his shoulder. he turned his head and smiled, leaning down and kissing your head, “need anything while i’m out?”

“mm,” he hummed, “breakfast? i don’t feel like cooking.”

you laughed, “me either. i’ll pick up something.”

he nodded, smiling playfully, “i guess you can take my car.”

“oh i was going to,” you said, grabbing his key off the hook, “even without your permission.”

“rude!”

you laughed, blowing him a kiss, “i’ll be back. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

your trip to the store was quick, making it back within a half an hour, arms full of things as you carried everything inside, closing the door with your foot. you set everything on the counter, hanging the keys back on the hook.

“i’m back!”

“i’m in the bedroom!” his voice called back to you. you made your way down the hallway and into the bedroom, smiling as he held up two shirts in the mirror.

“which looks better?” he asked, holding both up against the pair of plaid pants he had picked out. you hummed, standing behind him and watching his reflection. his hair being perfectly styled and his cologne filling the room telling you he had been getting ready while you were gone.

you pointed to the white shirt, “that one.”

“you think?”

you nodded, watching him take it off the hanger and slipping it over his shoulders. you stepped in front of him, buttoning the buttons. purposefully leaving the top few open.

he rolled up the sleeves, sending you a look, “might as well have my whole shirt unbuttoned.”

“i wouldn’t complain.” you joked and he smiled, before quickly realizing your attire. you smile as he started pulling at the hem of his hoodie that sat on your frame.

“hey! this is mine.”

the baby blue hoodie looked better on you anyway, but he still liked to joke around with you, “i know.”

“thief.”

“come and get it then.” you shrugged, crossing your arms.

“oh, so now you’re in the mood?” he asked, “what was it? the buttons?”

you laughed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “maybe.”

“you’re going to be the death of me.”

“you love me.” you smiled, his hands finding your warm, soft skin under his hoodie.

“damn right i do, baby. til the day i die.”

[amourane]

hate the way you smile

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst, comedy, e2l + childhood enemies??

w/c: 4.7k

summary: from the second you met theodore nott you knew that your life would be torturous and that the boy would never leave you alone but maybe forever isn't so bad with theodore nott.

warnings: none just a lot of bickering

a/n: omg this one is a bit long but i finished it!

From the moment that you met Theodore Nott at the bright age of five you knew you would hate him forever. Maybe it was the way he would sneer at you with distaste or the way he would mock you for being a big crybaby whenever he took your toys. All you knew was that you simply loathed his presence.

Your families had been friends and they had initially thought that you and Theo would get along since you were both the same age. What they didn’t expect was the young boy to rip the heads of your dolls and proceed to mock you for crying your heart out. Yet even with all of your constant bickering your families still met up every holiday, bringing the demon child with them to torment your life.

Since that day your childhood was filled with cruel laughter and the mischievous eyes that would watch wherever you went.  At age seven, Theodore Nott found it appropriate to fill your bathtub with toads causing you to shriek out in terror when you opened the bathroom door, and him, to run away with glee at your horrified face. At age nine, he thought it would’ve been funny to surprise you by dumping a bucket load of pumpkin juice all over you and he cackled at your expected screams of anger. What he didn’t expect was for you to retaliate by smashing a tray of cauldron cakes into his face. 

Needless to say the war between you two started way back then and it had continued, the only difference being that now you both were more mature and civilised and there was no room for childish pranks.

“Suck my cock you mangled prat, I hope you trip and fall to your death you insignificant shit goblin!” 

At least so you thought.

You made a move and lunged for Theodore Nott’s throat as anger flared in your eyes. No one paid mind to the scene that was unfolding before them afterall it was a common occurrence for the last six years. 

“You enchanted my hair green!” You shrieked as you shook the brunette violently. “Are you out of your mind Nott? I thought we agreed we wouldn’t mess with each other’s appearances, what happened to that?” 

Theodore simply smirked and you felt your fury bubble inside you. He tilted his head to the right and acted as if he was actually pondering your question. If you could you would have been breathing flames as you felt yourself grow more livid as every second went by. 

“Hmm…I like your hair L/n, really suits the whole vibe you’re going for, don't you think bella?” Theo flashed you a wicked grin as he reached out to twirl a lock of your hair between his fingers. You slapped his hand away.

“And what vibe am I going for Nott? Please enlighten me since you apparently are the one making decisions for me.”

You should’ve just walked away. You really should’ve just cursed him out and gone to Madam Pomfrey for some sort of remedy instead of staying and entertaining whatever shit-faced idea he had come up with. The moment you saw the smug smirk that spread across his face and the dangerous twinkle in his eyes you knew he was going to spew some absolute bullshit. And you were right.

“Well obviously it’s a statement declaring that you’re mine, why else would you dye your hair to match my house?” The Slythering feigned disbelief, clutching his hands to his chest innocently. “But Salazar, I didn’t know you would be so bold about your feelings towards me bella.”

You felt heat rise and settle on your cheeks as you tried to come up with a colourful comeback to wipe the stupid smirk off his face but the words die in your throat. It was against your will but you could feel your face growing hotter as he continued to stare at you with that flirty glint in his eyes. Your brain spluttered to a stop and you scrambled desperately for something to say.

“Fuck you Nott.” You seethed before storming away with your hands balled into fists. You could hear the whispers of students and you could feel their stares as you stomped to the infirmary, determined to find some way to get your hair back to normal. 

Theodore Nott was the biggest pain in the arse you knew and he had never stopped being one. You still remembered when you had received your letter to Hogwarts and he had scoffed at the sight asking why Hogwarts would want a half-wit like you. Needless to say your parents weren’t surprised at the cries that erupted a second later from both you and him.

Throughout your years the two of you had become known for the obvious tension and pure hatred you harboured for each other though it did seem to lean on your side a bit more than it did to his. It had been the same for the first three years, bickering, pranks and whatnot. Then fourth year came and the scrawny boy you once knew had magically grown much taller and his face had lost a lot of the baby fat it once had. All at once Theodore Nott became one of the most sought after boys in Hogwarts and it only made you loathe him more. It made his ego triple in size and it made him much more flirty towards everyone but you seemed to be his number one target. All you wanted to do was to take your wand and puncture that bloated head of his.

Though his appearance changed he still was the boy you knew since you were a child and whenever he smiled you could see the same boyish grin he had way back when he was five. He had always been the same but now he just had a much more pretty face to disguise the fact he was a blithering idiot.

Theo watched as you stormed off, his smile never once leaving his face. He loved to mess with you purely to see the visceral anger that radiated off you every single time. The way you would try to stare him down but the action proved useless as he was much taller allowing him to simply look down smugly. It amused him to see how your reactions never changed. 

Ever since you were five you held the same expressions: whenever you were mildly irritated by him you would chew on your bottom lip, whenever you were pissed your eyes would double in size and you’d look like a fire-breathing dragon, and whenever he made you upset you would stare blankly without a word. He’d only ever made you truly upset once and when seeing your face he knew he would never do it again because even if the two of you bickered and fought he would never hurt you.

“Sometimes I think you’re secretly dating because you should see the way you’re daydreaming hopelessly while staring at L/n’s retreating figure Nott, you look like a bloody imbecile.” Draco slapped Theo’s back startling him out of his own thoughts. He scoffed after realising what his friend was implying.

“Oh Salazar’s balls I think I’m going to regurgitate my breakfast. You’ve gone insane if you even think for a second there’s a chance I fancy that creature.”

Laughter erupted from his friends and they continued to mock and tease him obviously not being mature enough to handle the situation with grace.

“I would rather shag the giant squid than date L/n and I’m sure the feeling is mutual.”

Mattheo hummed to himself and smirked. He placed his arm on Theo’s shoulder. “Well then can I ask her out? She’s real hot and I think she’d be interested.”

“L/n might be stupid Riddle but she wouldn’t ever go out with you or even give you the time of day. So don’t even think about doing it.” And with that he left and his friends exchanged knowing glances before bursting into another fit of laughter at their friend’s own obliviousness.

//

This was so not your day. 

Never in your life had you forgotten to hand in homework yet one silly slip up had cost you to spend your free afternoon in detention. It wasn’t your fault you had mixed up the dates on when the transfiguration homework was due. 

You begrudgingly opened the classroom doors, finding a seat to sit down for the next hour. At least you were able to catch up on some other classes while you were in detention otherwise you thought you would’ve gone mad. You looked around the classroom save for Professor McGonagall who had already greeted you when you walked in there was no one else there. 

It hadn’t even been a minute when the doors burst open to reveal a very tall and very smug Slytherin.

“Mr Nott, glad for you to join us, find a seat please.”

Theo's grin faltered as his eyes locked onto yours, a flicker of confusion dancing across his features before it was swiftly replaced by his trademark smirk. He made his way toward you, closing the distance until there were mere centimetres separating you from him.

“Now L/n, Nott, I have important business to tend to so I assume the both of you are mature enough to sit through this detention. I hope that I don’t hear about any incidents when I am gone.”

It was as if your nightmare had all of a sudden come to life as you watched McGonagall leave the classroom. You tried to protest but it fell upon deaf ears as the professor had already left the room, leaving you stuck with your nemesis.

You whipped your head to face the brunette, irritation flashing in your eyes. Why had he chosen to sit next to you when there were plenty of other seats available? The classroom was far from crowded, yet here he was, invading your personal space with his mere presence

“Why are you sitting next to me Nott?”

“Why can’t I? Do you happen to own every seat in this classroom?” He teased. “I didn’t think you did, so I’m going to sit where I want.”

You grumbled under your breath at his stubbornness, getting up to pack your things. “Fine, but then I’m moving.”

Before you could make your move, Theo reached out and grabbed your arm. “Hey slow down, I have a perfect seat right here.” Your irritation flared at his audacity, and you shot him a scathing glare as he gestured to his lap with a smug smirk. “Why don’t you-”

“Nott, if you seriously propose that I sit in your lap I will hex you to oblivion.”

“Okay!” Theo held his hands up in mock surrender, his expression feigning innocence as he cocked his head to the side, the smirk never once leaving his face. “Stay here, I won’t bother you, I swear.”

You eyed him cautiously, your scepticism evident. You weighed the options before you reluctantly sat back down. “Fine.”

A quiet hush befell the classroom and all that could be heard was the scratching of quills on parchment. That is until you were interrupted by a persistent poking sensation that disrupted your concentration, each jab of the quill more annoying than the last. You clenched your jaw as you tried to ignore Theo but you knew he wouldn’t stop until you gave him attention and there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of reacting. So he continued to poke and poke and poke. 

His incessant poking finally pushed you over the edge, prompting a sharp hiss of irritation from your lips. "What?" You snapped, unable to contain your frustration any longer.

“What are you doing here?” 

If there was a competition for incompetence Theodore Nott would sure have won first place.

“Detention obviously.”

“Oh you know what I meant, why are you in detention? Did you do something stupid? Wait, you do that all the time I forgot.” You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to roll them right out of your skull. "Tell me, bella," He continued, his voice laced with faux innocence. "I don't bite."

“Forgot my homework.” You reluctantly mumbled under your breath, feeling all too claustrophobic at how close he was to you. “Not that big of a deal.”

“Oh but it is.”

“What does that even mean, Nott?” Your eyes narrowed. Theo’s face twisted into a playful smirk and he was so close that you could practically hear his heart beating.

He chuckled, undeterred by your hostility. "But it's not like you to forget your homework," He teased, leaning in closer. "There must be something distracting you. Perhaps... thoughts of me?"

As if on instinct your hands reached out to push the unbearable boy away from you and you immediately got up at his incredulous words. You saw the way laughter bubbled and slipped from his lips, mocking you which only added more fuel to the evergrowing fire.

"In your dreams, Nott," You retorted, your voice laced with venom as you rose from your seat, your movements quick and determined. "I would sooner volunteer for a Dementor's kiss than waste a single thought on you."

Theo’s smirk only widened and his eyes gleamed with mischief. "Oh, believe me, the feeling is mutual," He quipped, his voice dripping with amusement as he rested his chin on his palms, his gaze never wavering from yours.

You huffed out an angry breath before picking your stuff up and stalking to the opposite end of the classroom. Luckily, he didn’t follow and you were left in peace for the rest of the detention.

//

It had been a week and a half since your detention yet Theodore Nott hadn’t approached you once since. In fact, you hadn’t seen him around school a lot, not that you were paying attention of course. It was just weird. Usually his face would pop up in front of you multiple times a day yet he was nowhere to be found. You had even lingered around the Slytherin table at lunch to see if he would show up but he never did. 

There was this sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. Even though you did despise Theo you had known him since he was a kid and he never was one to skip lessons much less disappear for over a week. Even his Slytherin friends didn’t know where he went.

That is until today. The moment you had walked into the dungeons ready for your Potions lesson you spotted him. There was a part of you that hoped you would see him today, after all he was your Potions partner. But there was something wrong. His face looked gaunt, pale, sapped of life and his eyes were merely blank as he sat unmoving. His usual demeanour was replaced with one of hollow emptiness.

“Where have you been Nott?” No response. You frowned as you looked at him, he seemed to not even hear you. “Nott? Have you suddenly become deaf?”

“It’s none of your business.” He snapped voice obviously laced with malice as the words cut through the air. The sharpness of his tone caught you off guard, a twinge of hurt gnawing at the edges of your consciousness despite the fact you both had said worse to each other.

You chose to ignore the fact that Theo was obviously in a sour mood and sat down beside him, unpacking your things. There was nothing special about the lesson, nothing that you needed to particularly pay attention to. Not that you did since you were too focused on trying to figure out what was wrong with your partner. Theo didn’t look okay, not in the slightest. He seemed exhausted and his sluggish movements proved you correct as he diced the various ingredients. 

You were in the middle of stirring the cauldron when Theo dropped a dandelion root in the mixture causing it to bubble and spit. The concoction spilled onto your hand and you shrieked at the sudden burning sensation that seemed to consume your hand in flames. The sensation is unbearable, a sharp, burning agony that seems to penetrate deep into your very bones. By now the whole class had stopped to look at you not fully registering what had happened. You turned to Theo, tears threatening to fall from your eyes at the pain but he stood there frozen, an expression you couldn’t decipher on his face.

“Theo-”

"Fucking hell, L/n." He spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "Would it kill you to not be such a clumsy moron? You could've hurt me as well. How can you even call yourself a witch?"

His words were sharp and spiteful. Through the many years of knowing Theodore Nott he had never blamed you for something he did. He might have been an incorrigible prick but he would still apologise if he had ever hurt you genuinely. But as you looked at him you couldn’t recognise the cold harsh look he gave you and you bit back your tears. You wouldn’t cry in front of him. 

Despite the fact your hand was in pain you felt something tighten around your chest and it made the air around you feel thick as if you couldn’t breathe. You stood up angrily, opening your mouth to snap back but your vision starts to fade, black spots invade your senses and that was the last thing you remember before you tumbled to the floor.

You woke up a few hours later as you felt the sun shine on your face. You blinked, disorientated, as you tried to get used to your surroundings. The familiar walls of the infirmary materialised and you felt some ease at knowing where you were. Confusion still gnawed at your mind as you struggled to piece together what had happened. How had you ended up in the infirmary? And why did everything feel so hazy, as if viewed through a foggy lens? 

Your gaze drifted to your hand, the source of the searing pain. And there, wrapped in a pristine white bandage, lay the answer to at least one of your questions. The memory flooded back in fragments, disjointed and incomplete.

Theo's careless mistake, the scalding mixture splattering across your skin, the sharp cry of pain that had torn through the air, all of it came rushing back with startling clarity.

“Miss L/n you’re awake!” Madam Pomfrey’s voice cut through your thoughts and you saw the woman make her way towards you hurriedly. “That was a terrible burn you had, lucky I had some burn-healing paste on me otherwise you would have had an ugly scar.”

You were still a bit dazed, trying to piece together how you even managed to make your way here. You distinctively remembered collapsing to the floor but that was where your memory stopped and it refused to give you any more.

“Sorry Madam Pomfrey but do you know how I got here? I really can’t seem to remember.”

“Oh dear.” The nurse frowned at your condition. “Mr Nott brought you here. He’s been here the whole afternoon. He's only just popped to dinner. I'm sure he’ll be back. Merlin, the boy did look worried.”

You resisted the urge to scoff at her words. Theodore Nott, worried. Not a chance. He probably only brought you here because Slughorn insisted, and he couldn't risk getting on the professor's bad side. No, you highly doubted he cared about what had happened to you.

The memory of his harsh words repeated in your head like an echo that refused to go away, a reminder of his indifference to your situation. And yet, despite your efforts to brush it off, a bitter laugh escaped your lips. Why were you even upset? After all, the two of you were experts at hurling mean insults at each other. It was practically a pastime. 

Rather you should have been mad at the fact he was the one who caused you to get this injury anyway. If it wasn’t for his stupid mistake you wouldn’t be in this predicament. Then again, you remembered his movements, how his usual nimble fingers were fumbling the ingredients, how he stared at the pages of his book as though they were in a foreign language. Something wasn’t right.

“You’re awake.”

The words startled you and you spotted the Slytherin boy approaching your bed as his face held the same blank expression as before. He sat down beside you and your eyes narrowed. You shuffled away, not wanting to be near him.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured quietly and the words caught you off guard. “These past few days just haven’t been the best and-”

“That’s your excuse?” You bristled at his pathetic apology, hoping that you had misheard what he had said. “You mess up our potion resulting in me getting hurt and then hurl insults my way trying to blame me for what happened. And you think simply saying ‘I’m sorry’ is enough? Using the excuse of having a few bad days as your way out?”

He stayed silent allowing you to continue.

“Theodore Nott, you always were an idiot.” You spat, the words tinged with disappointment. “But I never expected you to be such a heartless prick.”

As the final syllable fell from your lips, a heavy silence settled over the room, punctuated only by the shallow rise and fall of your breath. You held Theo’s gaze and as you studied him you noticed something you had failed to notice before. The dark circles that marred the skin beneath his eyes, the redness that rimmed their edges. The weariness that had been etched into his features. 

“I went home.” He finally said, breaking the silence with his words. “Father sent a letter saying it was urgent, that I needed to return home at once.”

You felt yourself deflate and your gaze softened. Theo and his father had never been on the best terms and ever since his mother died they drifted apart even more. Suddenly his attitude made sense and you felt the guilt seep into your senses.

“Turns out his urgent matter was that he found himself another potential wife. Some poor woman to endure his torture and he wanted to happily announce it to his son. He burnt all of my mother’s belongings and if I hadn’t stopped him he would’ve gotten rid of her grave as well.” Theo scoffed bitterly and you saw the way he was trying to stop the tears from falling. “That bastard calls himself my father but not once in his life has he ever cared about me.”

A heavy silence enveloped the both of you as you sat not uttering a word. You knew that he had always struggled with the strained relationship with his family. The death of his mother had resulted in Theo being distraught for weeks as he relived the nightmare whenever he closed his eyes. 

“I’m not going back there. I’m never setting foot in that house ever again.”

You placed your hand on his shoulder as you tried to offer some sort of comfort. His eyes locked with yours and you saw how his tears glistened as they fell silently. You felt ropes tighten around your heart and you squeezed his shoulder gently. It had been a long time since you saw Theodore Nott cry. It was a rare sight but that was what made it that much more painful.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You whispered. “I honestly…I’m so sorry Theo. He really doesn’t deserve a son like you. You’re incredible, you know that? You might be irritating and loud and downright infuriating at times but he doesn’t deserve you because you’re amazing Theodore Nott. And, Merlin, if I’m saying that then it must mean a lot because we both know my word is golden.”

You offered him a small smile and your heart warms when you see one tug at his lips too. He looked away for a second and you saw his eyes land on your bandaged hand and he winced.

“I really am sorry for messing up our potion. I didn’t mean what I said, you’re a brilliant witch Y/n, you always have been. I was just being a prat, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s honestly nothing bad. My hand will probably already be back to normal, I heal quickly you know.” You paused as your smile faltered and you chose your next words carefully. “If…if you don’t want to return to your house, you can always go to someone else's.”

Theo chuckled as he shook his head. “No one is going to accept me into their house without turning me into my father.”

“I will.” 

Silence. Theo looked at you, confusion clear on his face but your gaze was strong and he could tell you had meant what you had said. You felt yourself flush at his stare and you realised your hand was still on his shoulder and you quickly removed it.

“Accept you into my house I mean. My parents love you and you know they haven’t been on good terms with your father ever since what happened. We would be more than willing to take you in.” You watched as his face contorted into expressions that you couldn’t formulate. “That is if you promise not to fill my bathtub with toads again.”

Laughter fell from his lips, cascading like a melody. He lifted his hands to wipe away his tears that had been streaking down his face. His eyes no longer held the blank emotionless look but rather a certain warmth that you had missed seeing. Your grin widened upon hearing the sound and you found yourself joining in.

“At least you look pretty-”

Your words were cut off abruptly as Theo leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a sudden and unexpected kiss. You froze, unable to comprehend what exactly was happening as disbelief rippled through your body. His hands found their way at the back of your neck and you feel his thumb caress your cheek tenderly. You were still in shock when he pulled away and the last few words of the sentence you were about to say tumbled out of your mouth.

“-when you cry…”

You blinked as your mind tried to grapple at what had just happened. Theodore Nott had just kissed you. Theodore Nott, the boy you had despised since you were five, had just kissed you. He kissed you. Kissed…you. Immediately, your body erupted into flames and you felt your face flush hot at how close the both of you were.

“Your body temperature has risen extremely quickly.” Theo teased and you felt yourself grow even hotter.

“Shut it.”

“Like you’re actually a human radiator.” He continued undeterred by your glare.

“Nott if you don’t want to lose your head I would advise you to shut up.”

Theo grinned and you felt your heart stutter at the sight. “Oh so now I’m back to being Nott? What happened to Theo?” He said his name in a high pitched croon in an attempt to mock your voice and you smacked the backside of his head which only encouraged his laughter.

“You’re actually going to be the death of me.” You groaned as you slumped back down the bed, pulling the covers over your face as a feeble attempt to hide yourself from the pretty Slytherin.

Theo poked your arm and you peeked out to find him staring at you with a bright grin on his face. 

"Don't worry." He reassured you, his voice light and teasing. "I'll make sure to stay by your side forever and ever, like a blood-sucking parasite."

“How romantic.” You drawled as you rolled your eyes, trying to maintain a facade of annoyance as you retreated under the covers once more.

“Aren’t I just?” 

You ignored Theo’s playful whines for you to let him see your face. Your heart threatened to break out of your chest as you tried to calm yourself down. But even so, you were unable to stop the grin that spread across your face. Maybe, just maybe, forever wouldn't be so bad with Theodore Nott by your side.

[buckyalpine]

Some shy Bucky with meddling Sam and Steve and a cute little baker. 

Bucky hummed at the warm drink that danced on his tongue, a new creation that the sweet girl at the bakery had insisted he try. He wasn’t big on experimenting but ever since he’d visited the shop, he couldn’t say no to the human form of sunshine that stood behind the counter, always offering him something new to she’d made. Today, the flavors of vanilla and praline were infused in his coffee, your latest combination you had made just for him.

“So, thoughts?” You smiled hopefully, the twinkle in your eyes making Bucky blush like a school boy. 

“It’s delicious doll, thank you” He slid you a 5, shaking his head when you tried to give him back change, “Keep it, if anything I should be paying you more for something that good”

You giggled, waving goodbye to the handsome super soldier as he left, the dainty bell to the door of your shop ringing on his way out. What started off as a one time thing became a daily occurrence; Bucky would go for a morning walk or run and stop by the bakery before making his way back. He enjoyed his new routine, getting a coffee, talking to the angel that worked there, grabbing a cookie, getting to see her smile, trying a new drink, fuck, that sweet laugh. 

Now that it was getting warmer, you’d started to introduce him to cold drinks with fruit flavors and different colors. It had been almost three months since he’d first visited; your bakery was a sold part of his day now and he going to change it any time soon. 

“I’ll be able to open a whole new shop with how much you keep tipping me Jamie” you shook your head while he chuckled, sliding the change back to you. 

“Well if there's anyone that deserves it, it’s you” The smirk he gave you caused butterflies to fly madly around your tummy; you had no business crushing on the handsome soldier but he made it so hard! 

Bucky couldn’t stop smiling as he walked back to the compound, humming to himself with another new creation of yours to try. He wouldn’t quite remember the name of what you’d given him but he loved it nonetheless, adoring the sprinkles you added on top just because. 

"I thought you only drank black coffee” Sam cocked an eyebrow from where he was sitting in the kitchen as Bucky walked in, seeing the bright pink and blue drink the brunette was holding. A shit eating grin made it’s way to his face while Bucky groaned.

“Don’t start-

“Who is she. C’mon, big grumpy, staring machine like you drinking unicorn in a cup?” 

“There is no she” Bucky hissed while Sam raised his hands in defeat, not the least bit convinced. 

“Whatever you say” 

One nosy, sneaky Sam and Steve mission later,

“For fucks sake, Dear God” Bucky groaned seeing his two best friends already sitting at the counter chatting up his angel, both men grinning when they heard Bucky walk in. 

“Hi Jamie!” you smiled while Steve chuckled to himself seeing the brunette glower at them. 

“Awww, hi Jamie” Sam cooed, making a kissy face that Bucky would’ve smacked off if you weren’t standing right there. “We didn’t know you came to this place” 

“Jamie comes here all the time” You smiled, making his regular order while Bucky huffed, his annoyance melting away watching you flit behind the counter, handing him his coffee and a fresh cookie. 

“Does he now” Steve snorted, looking at Bucky watching you with heart eyes, 

“Y’know, y/n was saying she wanted to see that movie you’ve been going on about” Sam stated, nudging Bucky’s shoulder, “You know the one you’ve been dying to see too? Maybe you could both go. Thanks for the coffee y/n” 

Bucky stared at Sam with panicked wide eyes, the pink on his cheeks spreading to his neck and ears. Sam and Steve made their way out while Steve gave Bucky’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze along with a knowing smile. 

Go for it. 

“You - wouldn’t-with me- would-would you want to?” He sputtered out while you giggled with a nod making him relax. “Sorry, it’s been so long” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, collecting himself. “and my friends are idiots” 

“I’d love you” you whispered, leaning over to give he blushing soldier a peck on his cheek.

“It’s a date, doll” Bucky winked, loving the bashful smile you gave him, his charming self slowly coming back. He’d eventually owe Sam and Steve $20 each when they end up being the best men at his wedding but it would be worth it. 

[g0dlyunsub]

could you perhaps do a spencer x fem reader based on the song ‘i miss you, i’m sorry’ by gracie abrams? 🤍🤍

back to you.

upon your return after a year of working outside the bau, everyone welcomes you back with open arms – everyone except for one agent.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: angst, drinking, reader gets drunk, confessions and lots of apologizing

word count :: 2.9k

author’s note :: such a lovely request! this stretched out to be a lot longer than i had initially planned for, but what can i say, the song lyrics kept inspiring me to write more 

accompanying song :: i miss you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

do you remember happy together?

can we start over?

those were the four words you wanted to say, but you chose to remain silent instead. 

the guilt piled and eventually torched your heart when it became too much to bear. you preserved whatever was left of your sanity by flooding your bloodstream with three cups’ worth of caffeine, deciding to pay the price with jittery fingers. 

you had just spent the past eight months working a leadership position at the doj, and out of all of the decisions you’ve ever made in your life, this was your most regrettable one by far. sure, there were a lot of benefits that came with your elevated status – your bank balance certainly thanked you for it – but you missed out on too much.

you missed out on all of your coffee outings with the girls. you missed out on dinners with the entire team, where you would’ve brought your charcuterie board and downed your stress with red wine and endless rounds of poker. you missed out on everything that you would’ve marked your calendar for – trips to the mall, the fishing pier, the fancy dinner place a few blocks away from the office.

but nothing pained you more than your missed days with spencer. the thought bugged you every day, and you could do nothing to ignore it.

because how could you not regret it, the weekly strolls to the library with a cup of coffee in hand and his scarf wrapped tightly around you, his scent nuzzling against you? 

memories of that day haunt you like it’s yesterday.

—

“spence, i don’t need the scarf. the coffee’s keeping me warm just fine.”

your brown-haired coworker scoffed and stuffed his hands in his pockets while his gaze fell onto the pavement. 

walking side-by-side with him always felt surreal. his voice blew past your hair and drifted into your eardrums as your feet hit the soft grass, your boots slightly wet from the sprinklers tending the green.

“do i need to remind you that you were sick four days ago?”

you couldn’t help the faint blush from creeping up your cheeks when he turned to meet your gaze with his rounded eyes. you wanted to call him out because his ears were tinged with bright red from the cold air, but you stayed put. your flushed cheeks grew even hotter when his shaky hands dragged up your shoulders and cinched the scarf tighter around your neck.

“besides, natural fibers work wonders at keeping moisture away from the body.” 

his slight rasp sent shivers down your skin, and scratched the back of your mind just right.

the urge to grab him and kiss him tugged at your fingers like an itchy scab, but you chose not to scratch it.

thought you'd hate me

maybe he was the reason you decided to come back. 

you couldn’t bear the same routine any longer, cramped up inside an office with no place to go besides the dimly lit room of your bare apartment still filled with unpacked moving boxes.

you didn’t have much luck making friends at your new workplace, and you threw the idea of finding a potential date out the window. 

and even after eight months, you couldn’t shake his crestfallen face from your mind.

—

“you’re leaving?”

spencer’s eyes immediately tore away from his book and landed on you, his lips slightly parted.

“in- in a week. yes, i’m leaving.”

you looked down at the ground and tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ears several times. an uncomfortable silence filled the air.

“how long has it been since you… accepted the offer?”

you paused before glancing up. the twinkle that always sits in his eyes seemed to gain an extra edge in that moment, and it was almost scary, how he stared at you so inscrutably.

“two weeks,” you said truthfully and looked down again, because you didn’t have it in yourself to hold his gaze. 

from your peripheral vision, you noticed how his knuckles were almost white from the sheer force with which he was gripping his book. you bit down on the insides of your cheek, hard.

“i didn’t know you were thinking of other options,” he muttered lowly, and your heart instantly dropped.

“it was a good offer, spence. a really good one. i-”

“yeah, i hope it was a good offer. i mean, i don’t know how much of a role we played in your decision, but i’m happy for you. congrats.”

you blinked a few times while his words echoed in your mind. his quick-witted response heavy with bitter undertones flooded you with the most intense feelings of remorse and guilt.

“this wasn’t an easy decision, if that’s what you’re talking about. spence, you’re like family to me, and leaving this all behind… i thought about this day and night.”

“you know, it’s kind of funny how you say that we’re like family, because a family would do everything to stay together. but then again, maybe i’m the exception.”

you really didn’t have anything to say after that.

he completely annihilated and swept through you, and still finished you off by walking past you to snatch his bag and leave the office.

you should’ve told him before.

but then he would’ve convinced you, and you knew that it wouldn’t take much to be coaxed into staying, especially when it was spencer. you consulted your parents and emily instead, and they all urged you not to overthink.

but that day, you were convinced you had it all wrong. 

i still love you, i promise

you could feel the tears surface almost immediately when you wrap your hands around emily’s back in a heartfelt embrace.

“how do you feel?” she pulls back and reaches into her pocket to hand you your id. 

you take it from her slowly, tracing your fingers over the edges while staring at the words ‘special agent’ next to your signature.

“i feel-” you shake your head in disbelief, “so happy to be back.” 

you don’t know if you sound as excited as you’re claiming yourself to be, but emily doesn’t pry into it.

“seems like you’re stuck with us no matter what,” she chuckles, and then clasps her hand around your wrist. “come on, everyone’s waiting for you.”

you heard them before you saw their faces.

the garish papers and sparkling trails of glitter land at your feet the moment the elevator doors open, and a striking pop sounds before a flurry of celebratory squeals and claps echo left and right.

“oh you, come over here!” penelope scurries over to you and sweeps you in a tight hug, and the others join in to clobber you with pats and playful pushes.

emily leads you into the office while everyone trails behind you excitedly, and stops to gesture towards a table decorated with your nameplate. you step back in awe.

“the table’s perfect.”

you smile and set your bag down to brandish your nameplate at the others. 

“i know! and guess who’s across from you.” jj laughs and moves her brows up and down, causing you to shift your glance at the surrounding desks.

and right across from you, you see it. the table, lined with books at every edge; the empty coffee mug; the nameplate.

as if right on cue, the office doors swing open, and the subject of your thoughts walks in.

you instantly feel the pang of guilt when his excited gaze turns into a vacant stare, when he realizes the source of rapture coming from inside the office is you. 

his eyes flicker up and down and his stare almost feels chilling. you need him to break the cold and say something. anything.

your team somehow makes it even worse by reading your silence as a desire to be left alone. they nod and point to the roundtable upstairs before whizzing up the stairs and disappearing behind the blinds, leaving you to face the man you haven’t seen in eight months alone.

“you’re back.” 

spencer says it with a voice so quiet, with a pace so swift, with a tone so flat, you don’t know if you’d be able to catch that it’s him if it isn’t for his face.

you don’t want his impassive tone to dictate the mood for the conversation when you’ve just hauled your feet all the way back, so you clear your throat and open your mouth to speak.

“i am. it’s nice to see you again.”

he stiffens. his reaction is a bitter pill to swallow.

“spencer,” you start, eyeing the vein marking the side of his forehead, “you- i’m probably the last person you want to see right now. i’m really sorry about last time.”

the unwavering expression on his face is unsparing, but you aren’t going to look away abashed.

“i just wanted to say that you were right. i should’ve never left in the first place. i hated every second of work there, and believe me when i say that i didn’t hesitate when emily asked if i wanted to come back.”

he could pierce your heart with his silent stare.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t tell you earlier. but i knew, i knew that if i consulted you i would’ve turned it down.”

you take a deep breath.

“i missed you so much, but i just didn’t have it in me to tell you that because i thought you’d still be mad, and you’re probably still really mad at me right now so it’s okay if you don’t say anything because i understand, i know that i’d be mad if i were in your place, but i just wanted to make it clear that i’m not going to leave again-”

“stop.”

he cuts you off, but the rattles of your apologies continue to drift in the back of your mind.

he tears his gaze away from you and shakes his head.

“i need some time… to think about this.”

without waiting for a response, he turns and walks off, up the stairs and away to regroup with the rest of the team. he doesn’t see the tears that cascade down your flushed face.

think i’ll make it worse

“great work today.” 

hotch nods at you with a warm smile before he steps out, leaving you to be the last one in the office.

walking over to your desk, you carefully pull out a large bottle of wine from a bag that rossi left earlier as a welcome-back gift. 

you make your way to the shared kitchen, and sigh happily when you find the corkscrew in the same drawer as before – a subtle reminder that some things haven’t changed. inserting the lever arm into the cork, you twist and pull until it lifts from the bottle with a satisfying pop.

without pouring the wine into a spare glass, you shuffle your feet until you reach the stairs, and plop down on the raised steps.

you take a small sip of the wine, savoring the taste as the liquid sloshes around in your mouth, and recall the events of earlier.

stop.

you take another sip.

i need some time.

you attach your lips to the mouth of the bottle and take a large gulp.

i need some time… to think about this.

you guzzle the wine without a single care, without considering the fact that your car’s still parked outside and that you need to get home somehow.

you drink until your lips stain with the color of dark purple, until you can smell the alcohol rubbed deep in your skin, and until you collapse to your hands and knees.

—

spencer hadn’t initially planned to go back to the office that night.

but when he rang your cell five times and each call sent him straight to voicemail, he knew something wasn’t right.

he was never good at verbalizing apologies, so he was just going to leave a letter on your desk to find in the morning. the two of you would address everything then.

because the truth was that he could never stay mad at you. he just needed to prepare himself, to be able to see your face again without feeling the heavy crash of emotions.

but when he turned up to the office and noticed the lights were still on, suspicious thoughts clouded his brain. 

hesitantly, he curled his fingers around the handles of the door and opened it.

he saw the empty wine bottle first, which had rolled its way to the entrance of the office and stopped at his feet.

crouching, he took the bottle in his palm and examined it before confusedly clicking his tongue and setting it on top of the kitchen table. 

but then he saw you, slumped over the stairs, your face sinking into your dress shirt stained with drops of purple.

he dropped everything and ran, ran as fast as he could, to your side.

i miss you, i'm sorry

you hear the soft swearing and realize you’re not alone, but you’re too drunk – too tired – to match the face to the fuzzy figure crouched beside you.

“have you been drinking this entire time?”

is that spencer? it’s surely his voice.

“spencer? oh my god, what- why are you here?”

he waves the bottle you had just downed in your face, and your hands instinctively move to reach for it. he pulls it away from you.

“did you just finish all of this?”

you give a lopsided smile and blink slowly. “oh, i swear it was just one sip.” 

that’s the only confirmation he needs. 

spencer tuts and sighs. he’s about to murmur a few words of disapproval when your head falls and you lurch forward, but he catches you just in time. with his palms cupping the sides of your face, he gently lowers you onto his lap.

“how were you going to get home?”

his voice brushes against you like feathers. damn it, he sounds intoxicating.

you smile sleepily. “what are you talking about? i am home.”

spencer frowns.

“no, your home is twenty minutes away from here. you’re still at the office.”

the office lights are too bright for you to handle, you move your hand to shield your eyes. spencer takes note of this, and moves his head over to cast his shadows onto your face. 

“no,” you breathe, “i’m right where i belong. with you.”

that’s not the answer he’s expected at all. his throat constricts and for a second, he’s glad you’re too drunk to notice the blush spreading across his face.

“did you mean it?”

you furrow your brows in confusion. “what?”

“did you mean it when you said you missed me?”

you let out a hushed laugh. “did you want me to say something else?”

spencer shakes his head. “i just want to know if you really meant-”

“god, spence, you look so kissable right now.”

he gulps.

he never thought the word kissable would ever tumble from your pretty lips, let alone be directed towards him. never, not in a million years.

“stop,” is all he can come up with.

“do you know who i missed the most when i left?”

he knows where this is going, and he needs to stop you before you spill too much. for your own good.

“let’s get you up.”

“you. it’s always been you.” 

he doesn’t want to give in to your bubbly laughs, your soft tugs at his shirt, your face nuzzling into his lap.

“after i left,” you continue to drawl your words with clarity only slightly greater than that of a burble, “i came to realize something.”

he doesn’t need to ask. he doesn’t need to know more.

“what?” 

he wants to know more.

“i can’t love anyone else.” you blink. “it has to be you. loving you is just that easy.”

you’re persistent. you flip onto your stomach and plant a kiss on his lap before slowly sitting up and staring intently into his eyes.

you’re drunk.

this isn't right.

spencer shakes his head as if to warn you, to give you your last chance to back down. 

you have to thank the alcohol for stripping you of all your nerves. “did you miss me?”

that, he can answer. spencer nods.

“say it back,” you whisper, gently tugging the collar of his shirt. 

a blush heats his cheeks. “i missed you.”

you move closer, until your lips are less than an inch from his left ear. “how much?”

seeing this side of you, so bold and carefree, has spencer practically gripping the carpet floor for support.

he's miraculously saved when you pull back and raise a hand.

“i’m gonna-”

you don’t get to finish because you collapse onto the floor, completely wiped out by the alcohol.

he releases all of the air he’s been keeping inside of his lungs with a heavy sigh.

he watches your chest rise and fall slowly, your lips upturned and drawing in deep breaths.

“too much,” he replies, knowing you can’t hear him. he thinks he hears you mumble something back, but it's too incoherent for him to understand.

with a soft smile, spencer leans in and carefully crosses your arms over his shoulders, before hoisting you on his back to carry you out of the office.

“let’s get you home.”

[worldlxvlys]

can u do one where the reader actually rocks Chris’ toxic girlfriends shit PLEASEEEEEE

and btw you an amazing writertrr

reader x chris who has a toxic gf (part 4)

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: cursing, violence, mention of sex

a/n: thank youuu and i hope you like :)

previous part

if someone told me two days ago that i’d be standing in my kitchen, baking cookies with chris and his girlfriend, i would’ve looked at them like they were crazy. yet here i am, doing exactly that.

it was chris’s bright idea for the three of us to spend time together, “i want you guys to try to get along” were his exact words.

i offered to do it at my house, so i could kick layla’s ass out when i got sick of her.

so now, here we were, baking cookies together. we hadn’t even been at it for longer than five minutes before layla started to piss me off.

“what the hell type of cookie sheet is this? it looks like you got it from the dollar tree” she snickered.

the sound of her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, she was obviously making it higher on purpose.

i gave her an odd look at this, “i did. why would i pay for expensive ass cooking sheets?” i squinted my eyes at her.

she looked taken aback, probably expecting me to take her words to heart.

“for real. who cares where you got it? as long as it works” chris agreed.

when he saw the look on layla’s face, his eyes widened slightly and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

chris grabbed the bag of cookie dough, starting to hand it to me.

i went to grab it before layla, who stood on my other side, reached around me and took it.

“great, let’s get started!” she spoke, an annoyingly wide grin covering her face.

i glanced at chris, giving him a look to express my annoyance without verbalizing it.

he gave me a pleading look, silently asking me to try.

letting her open the bag, i reached for the parchment paper, lining my “cheap” cookie sheets.

i watched as she struggled to open the bag, letting out dramatic huffs and puffs.

“baby, can you open this for me? my nails-” she stopped talking when i grabbed the bag from her, ripping it open.

my nails were longer than hers, however, i opened the bag without a problem.

“it’s not the nails” i spoke to her as i separated the pre-cut dough.

“and next time, if you can’t open something, don’t take it from someone who actually can�� i finished.

she let out a sigh, her lips turning into a slight pout. “whatever” she said.

once the dough was separated, chris and i started to place it on the cookie sheet.

i glanced over at her, noticing that she was just standing there.

“are you actually gonna put the cookies on the sheet, or are your nails too long to do that too?” i asked.

her face dropped at that, her brows furrowing slightly. a deep frown grew on her face and she looked like she was going to cry.

“ok, i’m not just gonna stand here and let you belittle me” she said, catching me by surprise. she seemed like i genuinely upset her.

“and, you, chris ? you just let her talk to me however she wants. i’m not some monster, i have feelings” her voice broke when she spoke, “but all you care about is her”.

i pressed my lips together when chris made no effort to deny her statement, well this is awkward.

chris and i just stood there, staring at her with wide eyes.

“whatever” she shook her head, “can you just bring me home? i’m not feeling great” she asked as she looked at chris.

i squinted my eyes at her, confused. “didn’t you drive here? how is he supposed to take you home?”

chris shot a look at me that said are you serious?

“ok, forget it. never mind” i spoke, holding my hands up.

“i was asking if he could come home with me” she spoke quietly.

“yeah, just let me go use the bathroom real fast” he spoke quickly. he turned to me, “please just leave her alone” he said before walking towards my bathroom.

as soon as he left the room, her face turned into a light smirk.

my eyebrows rose as her eyes, which still had tears in them, held an evil glint.

what the fuck?

“isn’t he so gullible? all it took was a few fake tears to get him on my side” she said, her voice now at its normal pitch.

“see, the difference between you and me? you may have him wrapped around your finger, but i know exactly how to get what i want from him” she spoke.

“well, that and the fact that you’re a manipulative, lying bitch” i said.

“yet i’m the one in a relationship with him. i just know that shit hurts” she said.

her words definitely struck a nerve, but i’d never admit it.

“i’m the one who’ll be taking him home. and once he finishes comforting me, i’ll bat my eyelashes at him. tell him how much your words hurt me, and that i need a distraction”

“before i know it, i’ll be under him. i’ll hear him moan my name because, like i said, i always get what i want. call it manipulative if you want, i have needs” she shrugged once she finished.

“he’s a good fuck, it’s a shame you w-” she started but was cut off by my fist making contact with her face.

there was a sickening crack that echoed through the kitchen, as she fell back into the chair behind her. she held onto her nose, screaming out in pain.

“stand the fuck up” i told her, as she started to actually cry.

she didn’t listen, she just sat there and continued to sob.

“i told you what would happen, bitch. i don’t know why you thought i was joking” i said as i got closer to her, making her shrink away from me.

“you don’t get to talk about chris like that. your ungrateful ass doesn’t deserve him.” i grabbed her by her ponytail, making her cry out in pain.

i pulled her to her feet in one swift motion before letting go of her. i pushed her in the direction of my door, “get the fuck out of my house or i swear to god a broken nose will be the least of your problems” i said.

instead of listening to me, she spun around quickly. she swung at me, but i moved back quickly, only receiving a scratch to the face from her nails.

i swept my foot out, making her lose balance and fall to the ground. without missing a beat, i climbed on top of her and punched her over and over again.

all i could think about was the way she talked about chris, as though he was simply a thing that she used for her own pleasure.

if she thought i was just going to sit back and allow her to treat chris that way, she was wrong.

i got in a few more punches before a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me away from her.

“what the fuck are you doing?” chris yelled as he let go of me.

my face fell as i realized how bad the situation seemed. when he left she was crying and now here i was beating the shit out of her.

“chris, just let me explain” i said as he rushed over to her.

“explain? what is there to explain? when i left she was sobbing, and she still is. why would you do this?” he yelled.

i backed away from him at the tone he used, realizing how mad he was.

he picked her up bridal style, before walking towards the door.

when he walked past me, he mumbled something before walking out of the door.

“all i asked was for you to try.”

💟💟💟💟

yikes 😬😬

i think i’m gonna make this a series, should i ?

MASTERLIST #1.

MASTERLIST #2.

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[venusacrossthestars]

your hands in mine

Pairings- Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

WC-1k

warnings- fluff, thunderstorm, 1 sexual-ish innuendo

A/N: this is something special for @arieslost and her obsession with hands, especially Charles' hands. I wrote this and am posting in today (3/12) in honor of our 3 years of friendship. I wouldn't be who I am without her. nyoom duo till the end.

f1 masterlist

The roll of thunder is what startles you out of your slumber. Senses clouded by the lingering effects of sleep. For a moment you are unsure as to where you were. This looked nothing like your apartment. Another wave of thunder brought back the realization, I spent the night at Charles’. 

You and the Monégasque driver had spent the entire day together, doing everything and nothing. He had a week off between races and was adamant about spending it all with you, not that you were complaining. This night had been no different. The two of you had gone out for a nice dinner, a little local spot near Charles’ flat that had live music. Your walk home was filled with a comfortable silence, which was one of your favorite things about being with Charles. The two of you didn’t need to be in constant conversation with each other, just each other presence was enough. 

The peacefulness followed the both of you as you worked through the motions of your nightly routine. Yours ended with reading a few chapters of whatever book you were reading and Charles practicing the piano. Kissing him before you each went off to do your own routine was the last thing you could fully remember. You must’ve fallen asleep out on the balcony and Charles must’ve carried you to bed. 

Turing over in Charles’ arms was a task easier said than done. Anytime the two of you spooned his arms would magically become vice grips, impossible to get out of. However, Charles must have been equally, if not more, beat than you. The rain helping lull him to sleep as it had done to you, his arms were lax across your middle, making it easier to roll over to your opposite side. 

As the wind picked up, a cool breeze swept through the open windows making you nestle further into Charles’ bare chest. Your hands coming to rest across his chest. Another thing to love about him, he always slept shirtless. It was impossible to deny how handsome Charles was, and contrary to popular belief of the media, you weren’t with Charles only for his looks and fame, though it was a perk. You didn’t care about any of those things. When he was with you he wasn’t Charles Leclerc Prince of Ferrari, he was just Charles and that’s all you needed. 

The rain began to pour harder and you couldn’t restrain yourself from staring at Charles’ sleeping figure, it was as if Michelangelo personally carved him out of marble. His sharp features only a tad more relaxed in his slumber. Shamelessly, you move your hand from his chest and lightly begin to trace his face with the backside of your hand, carefully trying not to wake him. Content with your mapping skills you move your hand back to his chest, now mindlessly drawing shapes into his tan skin. 

You continued your drawing, listening to the sounds of the storm as it raged on, lost in your own world. You would’ve stayed like that for longer if it wasn’t for a practically bright flash of lightning followed by a wave of thunder that had enough force to shake the room. This startled Charles from his slumber, which in turn startled you. 

“We should close the window before the floor gets all wet,” Charles mumbled out, still in the clutches of sleep. 

“Too comfy, don’t wanna move,” you mutter into his skin. 

Charles slides out from under you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. 

“I’m going to be right back, mon cheri, do not worry.” 

With your eyes well adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom, you can make out the outline of Charles’ back, along with the muscles that flex as he closes the window and redraws the curtains that have been blown open. You watch shamelessly. How can a man be that perfect? 

“See something you like?” Charles teases, standing at the foot of the bed. 

“Best view in the city.” Your answer seems to satisfy Charles as he climbs back into bed, back to your previous position. 

Now, instead of your hands tracing Charles’ features it is Charles whose hands soothingly roam your arm. On one particular ticklish pass of his hand, you let out a small giggle and before he can go back to try and tickle you again you grab his hand. 

With his hand in yours, you bring it to your lips and press small kisses against each of his knuckles. Happy with the amount of kisses you have given him you bring his hand back down and absent-mindedly play with his fingers. Charles, still awake, says nothing and continues to let you do as you please. 

“I love your hands,” you admit. 

“I know,” he chuckles out, “I like my hands too, especially when they are wrapped around your throat.” 

You gasp at the statement, “you pervert. I’m complimenting you and your head is stuck in the gutter.” 

“It always is when you’re around.” 

You roll your eyes at his comment and he pinches your side in retaliation, “you can’t even see what I did.” 

“I know you, and I know you just rolled your eyes at me.” 

Well, he’s got you there. You stop messing around with his fingers and now it is Charles’ turn to fiddle with yours. He copies your motions, bringing your hand to also kiss each knuckle. Instead of stopping as you did with his, he lightly massages the meat of your palm. 

You are fighting the feeling of sleep, but it is a losing battle between the massage Charles is giving you and sound of the rain hitting the now closed window. Charles mutters something that your foggy brain is unable to catch. 

Laced with sleep you ask, “what did you say?” 

“Just that I love your hands too.” Charles says while kissing your ring finger but you are too far gone to hear the last part. “And one day I’ll put a ring on your finger and be able to call you mine forever.”

[donutz]

OOOO SEBASTION SOLACE X CYBORG READER WHO’S A RECKLESS, LAIDBACK ADRENALINE-JUNKIE??? :DDDDDDDDD

PRETTY PLEASEEEEE

(also do u write for block tales by chance :>)

HEHEHEHWHAHGAGAGAHRRTHG

Sebastian Solace x cyborg! reader

The Sun and the Moon

— I do in fact not write for Block Tales, but I've played it before! I also apologize for taking long to get this out, I was with my best friend for a few days ^_^

Warnings: If you want to know how Reader looks then their head is like this and their body is like this; It doesn't have to be your exact body shape, but that's just how it looks; No, the body doesn't give you your gender, you're always gender neutral in my fanfics(Unless specified in a request); Reader is 11'8, I used a wheel for that

‘Wow this place is bigger than I thought’.

You looked around, the sound of your super cool boots clanking against the ground with a deeper sound. Your (To humans) heavy right arm swinging while your left hand is gripping your hip.

Your head turning to the left and right, with a grin on your face.

“Cool!” You shouted, making a surprised face with cartoon-like pursed lips.

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud”.

The speakers cut on, a man’s voice booming throughout the site. With a slight jump, you look up at the ceiling.

‘Hm, that’s uhh. Dark’.

“Continue to move on towards the marked path”.

“What marked path?” You looked down at the floor, seeing a line of green pipes. “I don’t think that’s the path but okay”.

You wonder how that man even saw you, you’re not even a prisoner here. Well— You currently aren’t a prisoner.

Not anymore.

You’re quite the tall figure, so you had to crouch to get through the door. You found whatever was in the rooms fascinating!

At times you would run too fast and accidentally run into a wall. Being clumsy and ignoring every scream of pain. Sometimes bumping your head under a desk.

“I mean— confident chuckle, Yeah I could probably bust a pipe or two but it’s not even that bad! Just a wrench is all I need”!

“... Where could I even get a wrench”?

Door after door it was starting to get boring, minus that green shark that swam in front of the windows. 

You were pretty bored, until you stepped upon a room that was a mix of bright and dark.

‘Wow it’s even more boring in here’.

You let out an annoyed, bored, and loud sigh, exaggerating your boredom.

In the middle of your.. Sound— A vent grille shot to the other side of the room, falling into the endless hole that was on your right.

The sudden movement stops you from your groaning, your abnormal senses going through the roof.

Suddenly you can fully feel the ground beneath your feet, you can hear the distant sounds of the man from the speaker.

And suddenly you’re intrigued by what’s in the vent.

“Hey, come here”.

A wide smile spreads through your face, maybe you can find another being like you down here! Human or not, you still want to see what’s over there.

After squeezing through the tight vents, you look around the room, not seeing much.

Dang it.

You knew it would’ve been better if you had night vision!

I mean come onnn, a cat has night vision! You should too!

A light flickers on, seemingly not one from the tall ceiling. Because of the new light, your iris(Including pupils) zoom in and out.

You look up at the source of light, seeing a man, yet not a human. Maybe an experiment like you!  ██████ is where you came from. Not Urbanshade or whatever it is.

He seems to cut himself off because of your looks.

You don’t look weird right?

It could be because he’s never seen a cyborg before, that’s normal to be surprised! To be surprised at your adjusting eyes and visible pipes. 

After a few seconds of silence, you spoke up.

“Why’d you stop speaking?” You climbed out of the vent, (unnecessarily) stretching your limbs.

“I thought you were introducing yourself”?

He looked up at you, taken aback even more, from your very tall height. He immediately looked back down, tucking his side bangs behind his fins.

“W- Well I was, before I saw.. You”.

“What?! Did I shock you?! Take you by surprise?! Why thank you Sebastian”!

Oh, so you were paying attention.

You put your hands on your hips, with a smile on your face, turning your head in directions to look even more around the shop. Now that you can see.

“This is really cooolll!! You set this up?” You asked, turning back to him.

He looks downwards, his side bang falling back into his vision. Which made him quietly groan with a tch sound.

“Yes, I did. Anyways if you want to buy anything, don’t give me real cash. Currency in this shop is the data found within the drawers or lockers.” He explained, attempting to pin his side bang back only for it to fall again.

You let out an understanding noise, pulling out something from your bag.

Sebastian heard the rustling sound, and looked back at you. His (invisible)eyebrow raised out of interest.

“I have this hair clip, chuckle, I don't know why I have this since I don’t have any hair. But I want to give it to you, your side bangs seem to keep bothering you”!

You held out the white hair clip in your hand, waiting for him to take it.

“... What”?

“Uh. What do you mean ‘what’? I’m giving this to you! Y’know, for your continuously falling bangss”??

“That’s not what I meant, I mean why are you giving this to me? I just met you”.

“Oh um, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s a gift!! Take it”!

He doesn’t end up taking it from your hand, staying quiet.

“Alrighty! I’ll just place it on the desk.” Comically, an exclamation mark appears by your head, seeing the document on the table.

You point at it, looking at Sebastian.

“This yours”?

“Yes– It’s 1000 data though, so I’m not sure if you’ll be able to buy it”.

“Uhh, I’ll check in my bag”.

You dug into your bag, finding two shiny blocks.

“Here,” You hand him the two blocks, “My system tells me this is equal to 1000 data”.

His mouth hangs partly open, a few blinks, and he takes the data from your hands. He checks out the blocks, looking at them from different angles.

You take the documents and almost open it, oh yeah, consent. That’s a thing that everybody needs to be concerned about.

“Are you okay with me reading this in front of you”?

He looks at you, confused.

“What”?

“That’s your second what of the day. Do you give me your consent to read this in front of youuu”!!

“.. Yes that’s fine”.

It’s like you glowed from your smile, looking back at the file.

After a few minutes, you close the thin folders.

“I find it cool that you’re an experiment too”.

.. THAT’S THE FIRST THING YOU SAY??

He would’ve thought you’d talk about him killing somebody, or- or the fact that he was once a human.

Wait did you say too?

“I mean– I wasn’t a human but I am an experiment. I wasn’t made by Urbanshade though I was made by  ██████. I’m glad we have something in common”.

Your mood switches in a second.

“THAT’S REALLY COOL!! YOU GOT ANYMORE INFORMATION YA WANNA TELL ME?! I WANNA HEAR”!!!

“I MEAN, I WOULD KILL THOSE SCIENTISTS TOO IF I WERE YOU.  HAH! YOU’RE SO COOL!! CAN WE BE FRIENDS”?!?!

Oh goodness.

I tried to fit in the adrenaline junkie at the end, I completely forgot about it.

[solarmorrigan]

Sweet Reward

For the @steddie-spooktober day 10 prompt: Orchard Rated: G | Words: 657 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, fluff Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie lights up the moment they reach the gift shop, ignoring the shelves of gardening tools and kitschy yard decorations and zeroing in on the display at the back.

“You did not disclose,” he says, crossing the little shop in a couple of surprisingly lively bounds for someone who’d just claimed to be tired of walking, “that there would be doughnuts.”

The whole display is dedicated to local products and items made with produce from the orchard. There’s apple butter and pear jam, a few apple pies and pear tarts, local honey, and, of course, apple cider doughnuts.

“I didn’t know,” Steve says. “I just wanted to pick some apples.”

“We should get some,” Eddie says, hands twitching at his sides like he’s barely stopping himself from reaching out and grabbing a box.

“We don’t need doughnuts, Eddie.” Steve shakes his head.

Eddie scoffs. “No one needs doughnuts. But today we have walked long and far–”

“We were out there for, like, an hour, tops.”

“–we have labored beneath the hot sun–”

“It’s barely seventy degrees.”

“–we don’t need doughnuts, we deserve doughnuts. Doughnuts are our great reward!”

“Aren’t the apples our great reward?” Steve asks, holding up the basket they’d filled out in the orchard. “Y’know, the things we were questing for, or whatever?”

Eddie had declared the entire trip an adventure the moment they’d stepped out into the trees earlier in the day. He’d even found a large stick towards the beginning of their walk that he’d proclaimed was a wizard staff, which would aid them in their quest for some damn fine apples. Steve had been helplessly charmed by the whole ridiculous display.

“Sure, but doughnuts are an even better reward,” Eddie insists.

“You do realize I’ll be making pie later, right?” Steve reminds him. “That’s, like, the whole reason we came out here.”

“Yeah, but that won’t be ready to eat until later. Doughnuts are ready now,” Eddie practically whines. “Besides, pie and doughnuts are two totally different beasts. Different taste, different texture–”

“Oh my god, fine! Get the damn doughnuts,” Steve finally relents.

“Yes!” Eddie lets out a hushed whoop of victory as he snatches up a box of half a dozen apple cider doughnuts and precedes Steve up to the front counter.

Steve can only follow, shaking his head.

They pay for their spoils and head back out into the sunny afternoon, Steve with the apples and Eddie with the doughnuts. It’s a nice day – bright and clear and not too hot. It’s probably one of the last clear weekends they’ll have before fall really descends on them.

All the same, as they cross the parking area back towards the car, Steve can’t help but turn to Eddie to check, “You didn’t actually have a bad time, did you? With the heat or the walking or anything?”

He wonders if maybe Eddie’s scars are causing him trouble with the change in seasons like Steve’s tend to, but Eddie shakes his head.

“Nah, today was fun,” Eddie says. “But even if I thought it was gonna suck, I still would’ve come.”

“Why’s that?” Steve asks.

“Because you wanted to come,” Eddie says, taking a half step sideways so their shoulders bump as they walk.

A wave of startled affection wells up in Steve’s chest, the way it always does whenever Eddie makes a claim of such easy devotion, and it demands an outlet. Steve glances around; the only other people in the parking lot are at the other end, heading in towards the orchard, so he deems it safe enough to lean in and press a quick kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie beams at him, and Steve can’t help but smile back.

“If you eat all those doughnuts without me, you’re sleeping on the couch,” Steve murmurs, still close to Eddie’s ear, and Eddie’s laughter rings out as warm and clear as the day.

[scoops-aboy86]

By The Heart (Secret Admirer pt 2)

Steddie Week 2024, July 2: Hands / touch starved / Invisible Touch by Genesis

wc: 2136 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

After the world fell apart a second time in November of ‘84, Steve had finished out the rest of his senior year in a daze. Partly because Billy Hargrove had broken a fucking plate over his head, giving him a small scar by his hairline that the doctor said would fade and recurring headaches that the doctor said might stick around anywhere from a few months to forever. 

It’s been more than a few months and the headaches are only slightly less frequent and a tiny bit less severe. 

He graduated, barely. His dad keeps dropping pointed comments about how his parents let him stay in their house rent-free after high school, how he’d saved up while attending a nearby college by not having to worry about the cost of a dorm or basic meals, and that it is his gratitude towards them that has moved him to offer the same to Steve. Usually said comments come after Steve tries to sidestep some sort of menial task, and it always feels like a threat.Steve just grits his teeth and takes it—refills his dad’s drink when the bottle is already literally right by the man’s hand, washes the family car after dinner when both his parents know that Steve has a shift at Scoops first thing in the morning, whatever. He can’t afford to get kicked out right now. 

His job at Scoops Ahoy is shit, all bright fluorescent lights and kids screaming and everything getting sticky for a measly minimum wage, but that probably reflects the quality of the job application he’d submitted. 

He has no friends, no prospects, no one in his corner except a bunch of incoming freshmen and the only one who really seems to want him around is off at some sort of smart people camp that he’d never even heard of… Go figure. 

But he has Secret Admirer. 

Okay, what Steve has is a pen pal who has a PO box and prefers to remain anonymous, possibly because Steve is an embarrassing person to have a crush on these days. And it’s really stupid that he thinks of them as first name Secret, last name Admirer, but it’s not like he hasn’t tried to come up with better names! Unfortunately, there are so many things Secret Admirer has called him (sweetheart, darling, dearest, honey, baby) that he can’t really think of anything original with those constantly rotating in his head… He can’t use them, though. It’d be weird. 

The first letter had been shoved into his locker in the last few weeks of school, looking like someone either wrote it with their non-dominant hand or had also suffered a blow to the head recently, and he hadn’t known what to make of it at first. In fact, he’d considered the possibility that Tommy or Billy were playing some sort of prank on him… but he didn’t think either of them could write “To Steve, the heart of my heart” without bursting into homophobic flames, and if it was Carol she would’ve done her girliest handwriting with hearts dotting the eyes. And his Secret Admirer had mentioned things no one else in his life seemed to care about. 

Like, 

I hope you’re feeling better. Sometimes I notice you squinting or grimacing in the classes we have in common… Are you still getting headaches? Do you get enough rest? You probably already know this, but mental and physical rest are super important for getting your handsome self all recovered, big boy. 

And,

I had a concussion once, not a bad one but it really left an impression. Felt like I was trying to think through a head full of soup for weeks. It sucks that teachers didn’t seem to cut you much slack because, just saying, I noticed they used to do that a lot more when you were still on the basketball and swim teams. Jock privilege placed above consideration of an actual, serious injury? I’m sorry, but that’s the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril, sweetheart, and you deserve better. 

So, yeah. Clearly his Secret Admirer is a nerd who doesn’t necessarily have the best opinion of jocks… but still took the time to notice all those things and write kindly about them. It felt nice, knowing that at least one person out there noticed, maybe even cared. 

And when that letter turned out not to be a one-off, a few more letters in his locker and then one in his mailbox, postmarked and everything, after graduation? Steve was hooked, enough to start writing self-consciously back. 

Which has brought him to the point of wanting so badly to meet this person that he’s stooped to begging, and it’s not even getting him anywhere. 

It’s occurred to him that it could be a guy, of course it has. Steve might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he knows it happens. He’d had a friend in middle school, Todd Fischer, nice guy, totally normal kid—got caught kissing some boy in the next grade up behind the gym and turned out to be the worst sprinter of the two. The Fischers had moved out of Hawkins a few weeks later and Steve hadn’t heard anything from or about Todd since. They’d been halfway through reading Romeo & Juliet in English at the time, and Steve remembers thinking when they got to the end of the play that at least things hadn’t gone that badly for Todd and whoever the other kid was. He’s old enough now to know that it could have; between Todd being such a nice kid, Barb dying in his own backyard, and the threat of government agents coming out of the woodwork if he ever breathes a word about certain secrets, the thought leaves a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. 

Anyway, if it is a guy, that would explain why Secret Admirer keeps dancing around his pleas to meet. And the initially disguised handwriting—which had been dropped by the second mailed letter, along with a brief, sheepish apology. 

But it could also be a girl who’s really shy or something. Steve doesn’t want to assume and then look like a total idiot further down the road. Whoever it is, all Steve knows is that he doesn’t want to lose them. He has to play this smart, play it cool… because he knows himself, and already knows that they have him by the heart based on words alone. 

The latest letter is in his hands, crinkled a little at the edges, and Steve can’t help himself from rereading the fifth paragraph yet again. 

… those indecently tiny shorts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about running my fingers up the inside of those thighs. Or my mouth. Whichever you think you’d like best, baby, I’m not picky. And while I do like ice cream, particularly strawberry with rainbow sprinkles in a cone, I can think of something else I’d love to wrap my hand around and run my tongue over before any drips can escape. You just think about that, hmm? Maybe share some of those thoughts in your reply, if I haven’t scared you off…

He’s not scared off. Doesn’t need to know exactly who put pen to paper to imagine hands and lips running up his legs, either, an invisible touch that sends shivers along his spine. 

Okay, maybe it’s been a while. Between striking out from behind the Scoops counter and not really trying all that hard anyway, the only action Steve’s seen is from his own hand… and this letter. He has thoughts, alright, but has a much better idea of how to translate them into action than words. And this is his problem with the whole pen pal only thing, his natural charm (if he has any left) is absolutely useless in this medium. 

The other problem is that he really, really wants to jerk off about this, except he’s got almost no details to fuel the fantasy. He knows that Secret Admirer had a concussion once, but not what color or length or texture or style their hair is; knows they’re on the fringes of popularity and not really into sports, but nothing about their height or build or how they might move against him. Hell, he doesn’t even know if they’re a girl or a guy, isn’t sure if he should try to imagine boobies and painted nails or stubbled cheeks and big hands. 

Secret Admirer has mentioned being a smoker though, of both tobacco and grass, and Steve is not exactly proud of how strongly this makes him want a cigarette just because it’s all he has to go on. He has work in under an hour and Robin hates the smell of cigarettes, will be extra vicious for their entire shift if he comes in reeking of smoke. 

He’ll have to figure out something else…

Dear Secret Admirer, Thanks for writing again, I was really glad to get your letter. I don’t sleep with them under my pillow because sometimes my pillow ends up on the floor and I don’t want to drool all over them. I keep them in a box in the back of my closet, because sometimes my parents have the cleaning lady do my bedroom without telling me and I don’t want her going through my stuff or putting it in weird places that I can never find again.  Sorry for laughing at you You must not have seen me last week when I threw a banana peel at my coworker for It’s not being humble if I don’t deserve Yeah, fuck high school.  Sorry for not rewriting this, I’m running out of paper and my dad’ll kill me if I break into his office to get more I definitely thought about what you said in your last letter. I thought about it a lot. It’s hard to figure out how to explain what though, because I wanted to picture you like you were probably picturing me when you were writing it. You obviously know what I look like, but I don’t know who you are so I had to get creative. (Which isn’t my strong suit. So if this is stupid maybe we could just never mention it again?) Since I don’t know what you look like and it’d be weird to try and picture you anyway, and then what if I’m not even close and that makes it seem like I don’t like you for who you are? I’m not sure if that makes sense. But anyway, since I don’t know what you look like I pictured you dressed like a ninja.  Hear me out, okay? You’re such a mystery. Ninjas are mysterious, and dressed all black to blend in with the shadows. You can’t see their hair or face and they wear gloves because you can tell a lot about a person by their hands. I guess what I’m saying is I imagined you sneaking into my room at night when the lights are off. Totally silent but with this powerful presence, you know? I think if I were in the same room as you it’d feel like that moment right before the whistle goes off at a swim meet, because that’s just like, holy shit it’s about to happen and your muscles are all tense but ready but you’re waiting, coiled like a snake. So I’m coiled like a snake and you’re still a ninja and I’m not very good at this. I’ve done it over the phone a few times but that’s different. I don’t know where I’m going with this just sitting writing this alone in my room with Genesis playing in the background so I’m going to stop. Just trust me, it was hot. If you ever want to exchange numbers I’d be happy to tell you all about it sometime.  It feels weird to end like that, so I’ll also tell you that I tried reading that Hobbit book you suggested and you were right, it’s a lot easier than the Rings book that the kids I babysit tried to bully me into reading. Bibo is freaking out about all these dwarves in his house and I can relate, it sounds like when those kids all show up and try to rope me into driving them around town. At least they haven’t tried to make me steal anything or try to take on a damn dragon yet. Hopefully this book won’t give them any ideas.  — Steve PS If that was so dumb you changed your mind about still writing to me, please let me down easy. Seriously it would be no hard feelings. At least I still have a great ass and great hair, so I’ve got that going for me.

Tag list (open): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @thetinymm

@practicallybegging @fuzzyduxk @greatwerewolfbeliever

[redvexillum]

@crackrodent I really am using your requests as tribute for my Kinktober/Flufftober, lol. This is my very first Adam ask and I'm sorry, I can't kill Adam! You know how much I love Adam! That's it *rolls up sleeves* imma show you what happens when you mess with the d1ckm@ster! Rawr! 😈

Special thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for being my muse for this story. Bless you. I had way too much fucking fun writing this. 💖

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, reader is fox demon for plot, sinner!adam, d☆ggy style, reader has a potty mouth, adam is the dickmaster, an☆l play, sp☆nking, hair pulling, multiple ☆rgasm (f!receiving), sq☆irting, rough s☆x, bl☆w job, big d☆ck adam, dom/sub undertone, so much f☆cking banter istg please shut up, adam being adam, adam figuratively sucking his own dick, toxic masculinity just oozes out of adam but the sex is hot af tho, adam is kind of a loveable idiot (?), I really went overboard here...sry kit (but not rly ayyy 🤣), CRUFTTY (crack + fluff + smut)

Building a sandwich was fucking art.  

The bread had to be perfect – moist and soft, but not so soft that it turned into a soggy mess under the weight of the toppings. It needed strength to hold everything together, to create a flawless bite.  

Every ingredient was handpicked by yours truly, each one deserving its place. The crispness of the lettuce, the savoury crunch of bacon, and the creamy balance of mayonnaise all had to align just right. Too much of anything, and the delicate flavour of harmony would soon collapse into a desolate heap of failure.  

It was your first day at “Hazbin Hotel,” a place with the dumbest fucking name you’d ever heard. Redemption, they called it. A program to save sinners, to help them earn their way to heaven. So far, all you’d seen was a ragtag crew of lunatics who wouldn’t have spent five minutes together unless they had their own selfish reasons for being here.  

Not that you gave a damn. You were here for one thing: free rent and free food. Your pointy ears twitched at the sound of manic laughter echoing through the halls. Niffty? Swifty? Whatever the hell her name was, you didn’t care enough to remember.  

All that mattered right now was your sandwich.  

Your orange tail, fluffy and tipped in black, swayed behind you as you worked with precision. The smell of freshly fried bacon lingered in the air, and a satisfied shiver ran down your spine. You squinted, eyeing the perfect amount of mayonnaise that dropped onto the bread with a soft plop. A sense of pride bloomed in your chest as you spread it evenly, knowing this was going to be the best fucking sandwich you’d ever made since coming down to Hell.  

Your lips stretched into a grin as you placed the final slice of bread on top, your tail flicking back and forth in anticipation. 

This was it. 

Perfection.  

Nothing could ruin this beautiful moment.  

Until, of course, all hell broke loose.  

As you stepped into the lobby, plate in hand, you barely had time to process the chaos before you. Your feet skidded to a halt, and you almost dropped your sandwich. The sandwich you would’ve committed six counts of murder for. 

“Holy shit!” you yelped, barely saving the plate from tumbling.  

There, right in front of you, was Niffty – or Swifty – going full psycho mode, cackling like a maniac as she repeatedly stabbed the newest guest. The guy was on the floor, writhing in agony, while Niffty giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world. “DIE! DIE! DIE! HAHAHA!” she screamed, her voice high-pitched and sharp.  

The blood splattered in bright red streaks as her tiny form hovered over him, the blade of her dagger glistening with every wild thrust. You watched, half in horror, half in disbelief, as she continued her assault with a grin that could only belong to someone completely unhinged.  

It wasn’t until Charlie – or was it Marley? - rushed in, shouting and waving her arms, that the scene started to settle. “Niffty, stop!” she yelled, scooping up the small, crazed girl with a panicked gasp. The dagger slipped from Niffty’s hand, clattering to the ground, blood still dripping from its blade.  

Huh. So, the girl’s name was Niffty.  

Noted.  

You picked up your sandwich, sinking your teeth into it, and damn near moaned right there in the lobby. The crisp, salty bacon mingled with the fresh crunch of lettuce, all balanced perfectly with the smooth creaminess of mayo. The bread was just the right kind of soft, with a subtle sweetness that tied everything together. It was like biting into a small piece of fucking heaven, even if you were in literal hell.  

“Oh, fuck,” came a groan from the man on the floor, interrupting your moment of sandwich bliss. The shitty guy who’d just been stabbed was slowly getting to his feet, looking dazed. “What the fuck!” he whined, wincing as he touched his back, his fingers now slick with blood. “That fucking hurts, like, real bad!”  

You rolled your eyes. Drama queen. This was hell, he was going to regenerate in a couple of minutes anyhow. You looked at him, and you almost dropped your sandwich, again.  

This guy.  

This fucking guy.  

Why was this fucking guy here, of all places? 

Marley – no, Charlie, fuck, whatever – chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry about that,” she said, flashing a nervous grin. “I, uh, forgot to tell Niffty that you’re not a bad guy anymore and at least she didn’t stab you with Angelic Steel!” she smiled way too brightly, as if that would somehow smooth things over.  

The man groaned again, straightening up with an exaggerated wince. “Ugh, I was never a bad guy,” he huffed, raising his hands in a condescending little air-quote gesture. “I was chosen and ordained by the big man upstairs to do what was right.” His nose shot up in the air like he thought he was some hot shit, and he crossed his arms with the kind of arrogance that made you want to punch him in the throat.  

You didn’t give two shits about the conversation. Hell, it was taking every ounce of self-control not to rip his trachea out right then and there. Of all the scum in hell, this asshole was the worst.  

Before the hotel, you’d made the horrible mistake of matching with him on Vinder, thinking maybe you could enjoy a no-strings-attached fling. 

Big fucking mistake.  

Your eyes twitched at the flood of memories. His obnoxious, open-mouth chewing. His laugh – raucous, loud, and so fucking embarrassing in public. And the way he’d slapped your ass during the first date like he fucking owned you.  

Chauvinistic.  

Pig.  

Every fibre of your being hated him.  

Well, almost everything.  

Your fingers tightened around the plate; the half-eaten sandwich forgotten. You hated him with a passion, but you couldn’t deny one thing: he had a huge cock. And, fuck, he knew how to use it. No matter how many times you swore it would be the last time; you kept crawling back, falling into the same damn cycle.  

One more fuck turned into two, then three, then how the hell did this happen again?

You were a goddamn addict – specifically, addicted to his dick. If you could slap a paper bag over his head, tie him up, and just ride him without hearing his obnoxious voice, that would be ideal. But you had no fucking self-control, and now here you were, in this weird-ass hotel,probably a cult at this point, hoping for a clean break.  

Adam – fucking Adam – caught your eye. His lips curled into a wide grin, teeth flashing like he’d just found a new toy. His red eyes sparkled in the dim light as he swaggered toward you, arms wide open. “Sugartits!” he called out, his voice like nails on a chalkboard. He moved in for a hug.  

You ducked under his arm, shooting him the nastiest scowl you could muster. Your ears flattened against your head, tail dropping between your legs in a stiff, unamused twitch.  

“You two know each other?” Marley – Charlie – whoever, asked, looking between you both with a raised brow and growing curiosity.  

“No,” you said curtly, biting into your sandwich again with more aggression than necessary.  

Adam, of course, couldn’t resist. “Oh, you could say I know her very well,” he said with a shit-eating grin, waggling his eyebrows like an idiot.  

“Ew,” Marley muttered, grimacing without even trying to hide her disgust.  

You groaned inwardly. Of all the fucking people in hell, why did it have to be him? 

Before you could even form a word, Adam’s fingers wiggled playfully, his lips curling into an “O” as he honed in on your sandwich like a predator eyeing its prey. “Aww, babe, you shouldn’t have!” he exclaimed, snatching up the sandwich you had poured your soul into for the last thirty minutes.  

“Wha-Wait-” you sputtered, horrified, as he stuffed the sandwich into his mouth in two massive bites, crumbs tumbling from his lips without a single ounce of grace.  

“Oh, hmm,” he chewed noisily, his cheeks bulging with food as he smacked his lips obnoxiously. “Ya know, I think you-” smack, smack, smack – his disgusting chewing noises clashing with the image of your sandwich being annihilated. “You may have put too much mayonnaise,” he continued, crumbs flying as he spoke with his mouth open. “So, I’d give it a 4 out of 10.” 

The low, primal growl that erupted from your throat felt volcanic, like every ounce of rage you’d bottled up over the miserable dates and hollow excuses was bubbling to the surface. 

You were fucking done.  

Every humiliating dinner where he’d “forgotten” his wallet, every time you’d fucked him to deal with your frustration with him – it all flashed through your mind in an explosive torrent. Without thinking, you grabbed his collar and yanked him down to your level.  

“We need to fucking talk,” you growled, teeth clenched, venom practically dripping from your words.  

Dragging him towards your room, your eyes narrowed in disgust as Adam shot a wink at Marley, fingers raised in an unmistakable gesture for “fucking.” Of course, he thought this was just some sort of game.  

No amount of good dick would make you compromise on your self-respect–-

And yet, here you were, kneeling naked in your room, your mouth wrapped around his thick cock, the taste of him flooding your senses. The worst part? You didn’t even remember how the hell you got here.  

“Oh fuck, you missed my cock, didn’t you babe?” Adam groaned; his voice thick with smug satisfaction. His hand gripped the base of his cock while his other fingers curled into your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp. “Open that pretty little mouth for me. Say your prayers like the good girl you are,” he crooned, his voice dripping with arrogance.  

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  

You hated him. You hated how he could still make you fall to your knees with just a look. One second, you’d been screaming at him, ready to shove a 21-inch dildo up his ass, and the next, he had his cock out, and there you were – sucking him off like nothing had changed.  

Fuck.  

Your lips stretched painfully around his girth as he pushed deeper into your mouth, groaning as your warmth engulfed him. His soft, pudgy stomach pressed against your forehead as he shoved his fat cock all the way to the hilt. Your throat tightened around him, gagging slightly, but the reaction only made your pussy throb with need. The taste of him was heady, familiar, and it brought back memories of the way he could fuck you into oblivion, no matter how much you hated him.  

“That’s it, babe, suck it nice and deep,” Adam grunted, his hips thrusting forward as he buried himself deeper in your throat. “Bet you fucking missed this cock, huh? It’s been too long since you had a real man inside you.” 

You rolled your eyes, choking back the desire to tell him to shut the fuck up. If he would just be quiet for one goddamn second, you’d probably cum just from sucking his cock alone. But no, he always had to run his mouth.  

Then, his foot pressed firmly between your legs, the top of it rubbing directly against your slick pussy. Your breath hitched as his smug grin stretched wider, his eyes locking onto yours. “Go on, babe,” he taunted, his voice low and teasing. “I want to see you hump like the needy slut you are. Show me how much you fucking need it.” 

The words should’ve made you furious, but instead, they sent a shudder of arousal through your body. Your hips moved on their own, grinding down against his foot, your wetness soaking his skin as you rode him like you were desperate for release.  

You should hate this. You should hate him.  

You do hate him.  

But goddammit, you don’t hate this. 

“Mmph,” you moaned around his cock, your voice muffled by the thick shaft filling your throat. Your hips bucked wildly against his foot, the pressure building inside you faster than you’d like to admit. The musky taste of his pre-cum sliding down your throat made your whole-body clench in anticipation, bringing you dangerously close to the edge.  

“That’s right, sugartits,” Adam groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Look how good you are, sucking my big, fat cock.” The grin on his face was full of smug pride, and you could practically see the self-satisfaction swelling in his chest.  

The words “fuck you” echoed in your mind, but the moment his foot sped up, rubbing your clit in rapid strokes, your defiance crumbled beneath the weight of pure pleasure. The sharp edge of it cut through you, sending heat spreading like wildfire as your body tensed. Then, the first orgasm ripped through you, crashing like a wave and leaving your nerves buzzing in its wake.  

A muffled moan escaped around his cock, your spit trailing down your chin, your eyes rolling back in your head as your hands dug into his thighs for support. Fuck, it felt good. Fuck, it’s been too long.  

Adam pulled his cock free with a wet pop, and you barely had time to catch your breath before your legs trembled, the aftershocks still rippling through you.  

But just as you started to get your bearings, the world spun as he flipped you upside down, blood rushing to your head, disorienting you. His cock was right in your face again, and your brain struggled to catch up.  

“Wh-what the fuck are you doing?” you screeched, grabbing onto his bare hip for balance, your legs flailing helplessly in the air like a fish out of water.  

“Relax, babe. I’m going to eat you out,” he said simply, his breath hot against your dripping folds. He didn’t wait for your reply. “Now, shut up. Either suck my cock or wait your turn like a good girl for your second orgasm.” The condescension in his voice made you want to punch him.  

“Fuck you,” you spat, but your words were cut short as Adam ground his cock against your cheek, the heat of him searing into your skin.  

“You’re not that – ah – ah – fuck!” The insult died in your throat as your knees buckled, legs trembling with the sudden rush of pleasure. His tongue was already working between your folds, lapping at your wetness with obscene slurping sounds, like he was a dog drinking from a fountain.  

“Oh fuck, I’ve had better, you know,” you gasped, but even as you said it, your vision blurred from the lightheadedness, the blood pooling in your head making you dizzy. Your words rang hollow.  

Adam didn’t respond with words. Instead, he shoved his thick tongue deeper inside you, practically fucking your pussy with it. The roughness of his beard brushed against your sensitive clit, sending shockwaves through your body that had you trembling.  

“Fuck...fuck...” you whined, unable to stop the involuntary moans spilling from your lips. Your hand instinctively found his cock, pumping it with desperate need. You fucking jackass. You hated how his scent, his cock, his fucking presencehad this kind of power over you. The desire to ride him until you couldn’t walk for days burned in your gut.  

You hated everything about him – his cocky attitude, his smug grin, his fucking voice.  

But fuck, his cock? His cock almost made up for it. Almost. 

With a loud curse, as his mouth latched onto your swollen clit and sucked with relentless abandon, you felt yourself losing control. Your mouth opened wide, taking him back inside, your head bobbing back and forth as he fucked your mouth in rhythm with his tongue devouring you.  

The pressure from hanging upside down added to the dizzying pleasure, the blood rushing to your head making you lightheaded, while the taste of him hit your tongue. You needed both hands to grip his cock, stroking it harder, faster, desperate for his release – desperate for something to satisfy the ache growing inside you. Every orgasm he gave you left you unsatisfied because you knew the only thing that could truly wreck you was him fucking you senseless.  

As he always did.  

Your stomach clenched tight, thighs shaking as Adam moaned into your cunt, the vibration sending shivers of delight through you. His nose nudged against the base of your folds, his breath hot and heavy. “You gonna cum again, bitch?” he growled, his voice muffled, but the meaning was clear. The vibration of his words only pushed you closer to the edge.  

You hated how right he was. Fuck, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you cum again. You wanted to prove he wasn’t that good, that he didn’t know your body inside and out, that he couldn’t make you sing like a fucking instrument in his hands.  

But it was like he could read your mind, taking your challenge as an invitation. He bucked his hips, pistoning into your mouth harder, while his lips and tongue attacked your clit with reckless fervour. Saliva dripped from your mouth, your face flushed and wet with the effort of keeping up with his pace.  

It was only a matter of time. Your body betrayed you, your ass clenched, your legs spread wider, and with one last pulse of his tongue against your sensitive nub, you exploded. Another orgasm hit you, more intense than the last, your muffled cries of release vibrating around his cock as your body shook in his grasp.  

Tears blurred your vision, streaming down your face as waves of pleasure coursed through your body, leaving you breathless. The world spun once more as Adam laid you down, your back hitting the mattress with a soft thud.  

Your chest heaved, breath ragged, and your left leg twitched with the aftershocks pulsing through your still-throbbing core. The only sounds were your gasps and his own laboured breathing, tangled together in the humid air.  

Through bleary, tear-filled eyes, you glared up at him. “Fuck you,” you managed to spit out between shaky breaths.  

Adam, ever the cocky bastard, stroked his cock, slick with your spit, his hand gliding smoothly along his length. “Babe, that’s exactly what I’m about to do.” His smirk was infuriating, and all you could think about was shoving his face between your legs, smothering him with your pussy until he couldn’t talk anymore. God, you wanted to suffocate him with it. Death by cunt? Sign me the fuck-up. 

Why did he have to be such a colossal dick? The thought barely crossed your mind before his knees sank into the mattress, the bed groaning under his weight.  

“It you didn’t - hah – talk so much, you’d almost be tolerable,” you shot back, each word laced with venom.  

He burst out into bright laughter. “Tolerable? Baby, the way you worship my cock, you’re practically my most devout follower.” His sharp grin caught the dim light, and you couldn’t help the eye-roll that followed.  

“Holy fuck, you’re the biggest douchebag I know, I can’t even – ah!” Your words turned into a yelp as he slammed his hips against yours, burying himself deep inside you, aided by the slick remnants of your previous orgasms and his saliva.  

“Feel that?” he huffed, rolling his hips against your oversensitive clit, his voice dripping with smugness. “Look how fucking needy you are, bitch,” his grin widened as he looked down at you, eyes gleaming. “How many other cocks have tried to fill you since me? Any of them as good?” His hips slammed into yours, the wet, filthy sound of skin meeting skin filling the room.  

“Tell me, huh? Bet none of them could do this.” He pulled out, teasing you, before driving his cock back in, deeper, harder, the tip nudging against your cervix.  

“FUCK!” you screamed, legs instinctively spreading wider, your body arcing up to meet his. “You’re - ugh – such – a – fucking – ugh – ASS!” Each word was broken by the force of his persistent thrusts, the bed beneath you creaking in rhythm with his movements. It was like the damn thing was protesting as loudly as you were.  

“Good?” he smirked, filling in the blanks for you with every thrust. “Sexy? Amazing? Fantastic?” His pace quickened, clearly getting off on his own damn ego. If there was one thing he’d come from, it was the sound of his own bullshit.  

“All - ugh – you're good for – is your dick,” you growled, strands of hair sticking to your sweaty face, your skin slick with the sheen of your effort. You hated him, hated how smug he was, how cocky – and fuck, how right he was about how good his cock felt.  

Adam pulled out, his cock rock-hard and glistening with your arousal clinging to him. He gripped your hips and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your ass up and pressing your face into the mattress.  

Your heart skipped. This was the position that always wrecked you. Every. Single. Time. 

“That’s why,” he lined up, the blunt tip of his cock teasing your entrance, “they call me the Dickmaster.” He punctuated his words by thrusting into you in one fluid stroke, filling you completely, pushing deep until he hit your womb. Your back arched as a shameless moan tore from your lips, your body curling from the overwhelming fullness.  

“FUCK.” You nearly screamed. “Dickmaster? Are you fucking serious?” But despite the sheer cringe of the nickname, your body betrayed you. You moaned, louder, longer, as he thrust into you. The pleasure mixed with the sheer absurdity of it all.  

He was so fucking cheesy. The cringiest man alive. Dickmaster? More like Cringemaster. And yet, here you were, being dicked down by this walking embarrassment, moaning like a bitch in heat. The passion you felt for him, the anger, the lust – it all mixed into a chaotic storm, burning hot inside you.  

“Fuuuck youuu,” you wailed, voice trembling as Adam’s hips resumed their brutal, punishing rhythm. Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, his hand coming down hard on your ass, the crack of skin-on-skin only fuelling the fire that was already burning through you.  

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna fucking kill you,” you sobbed, the sting from each slap merging with the pleasure, searing through your core as the heat radiated across your skin. You were sure his handprint was branded on your ass, marking you as his.  

The pleasure built and built, his heavy balls slapping mercilessly against your clit with each thrust. It was overwhelming, your body trembling in a puddle of your own arousal, tears, and drool. 

Why did you keep coming back to him? Out of all the sinners you could fuck, you always crawled back to him for a taste of that damn dick.  

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted mindlessly, your cunt squeezing tight around him as another orgasm threatened to break loose. But just when you were on the edge, he reached for your tail and yanked. Hard. 

“YIP!” you screeched, the sharp, high-pitched squeal erupting from your throat as the flames of your arousal were doused instantly. You whipped your head around, glaring at him over your shoulder. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” you barked, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that you were on all fours, impaled on his cock with your ass still up in the air.  

Adam’s eyes widened, his expression morphing from confusion to realization. “Oh shit, so that wasn’t your butt plug?” he asked, cock still buried deep inside you, pulsing against your fluttering walls that betrayed the fury burning inside you.  

“WE’VE BEEN FUCKING FOR OVER HALF A YEAR, YOU ASSHOLE,” you snapped, baring your teeth in a snarl. “YOU EVEN FUCKED MY ASS! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I’D BE WEARING A BUTT PLUG NOW?” 

He raised his hands in mock surrender, but his hips didn’t stop rocking gently into you, sending shivers up your spine despite your anger. “Babe, it was an honest mistake,” he said before licking his fingers and sliding one thick digit down, pressing against your ass. “Let me make it up to you.” 

Before you could protest, his finger was already pushing past the tight ring of muscle, sinking into your ass as your tail stiffened in response. “Oh, fuck,” you groaned, your resolve crumbling as the pleasure returned full force. His finger curled just right, rubbing the thin wall separating your pussy from your ass, sending jolts of ecstasy through both holes.  

“Remember when I took your anal virginity?” Adam’s voice was smug, but the curl of his finger had you moaning instead of cursing him out. He pumped his finger slowly, in sync with the thrusts of his cock, his breath ragged with excitement. “You told me you hated anal, but look at you now. Begging for more.” 

Your head dropped onto the mattress, your tail wagging unconsciously as he added another finger, stretching you wider. You closed your eyes, trying to block out his annoying voice, but your ass wiggled back against him, betraying your need for more. “Fucking hell,” you whimpered, completely undone.  

He laughed, the sound deep and rich. “Told you. After I finish with your pussy, I’ll give that ass some love too. They don’t call me the dickmaster for nothing.” His voice was maddening, but the way his fingers curled inside you made you forget how much you wanted to punch him.  

Your ears flicked back, frustration mingling with desire. If only he would shut the fuck up, you would’ve come already – twice, even.  

“Babe, you want my load that bad?” Adam cooed, his voice breathy as his cock twitched inside you. “You wanna be my cum dump?” he chuckled, fingers and cock working in perfect, relentless tandem.  

“Sh-sh-shut up,” you moaned, voice low and trembling as your walls tightened around both his cock and his fingers. You were so close, teetering on the edge. 

If he would just stop talking... 

He pulled his fingers out of your ass, leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness. His wet fingers gripped your hips, pulling your ass up higher as he pressed his weight down on you. Then, he started to fuck you hard – exactly the way you liked it – each brutal thrust forcing you down into the bed.  

Your breath came in broken gasps, each thrust stealing the words from your lips as his cock filled you completely, forcing your slick walls to stretch for him. The bed creaked and groaned under you, matching the wet slap of skin on skin, the rhythmic pounding filled the room. Your stomach clenched, thighs quivering as you squeezed your eyes shut, knowing you were about to explode.  

When his cock hit your g-spot again and again, your moan rose low and long, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You babbled incoherently, swearing and pleading for him to fill you.  

And he did.  

He always fucking did.  

Hot, thick spurts of cum flooded your pussy, painting your insides as the pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave. You were wrecked, ruined, and thoroughly fucked – just the way you wanted it. 

He pushed your body down, rolling you onto your back and stretching your thighs wide apart like he was prepping a canvas for his masterpiece. The thrill of being exposed sent shivers down your spine, and before you could catch your breath, his lips found your aching, sensitive clit.  

His fingers dove into your cum-soaked folds, the squelching sounds echoing in the air, making you feel like a goddamn wet sponge. You were so close to the edge of another orgasm that your muscles quivered with anticipation. Your head tilted back, pressing against the bed, and you gasped as warmth flooded out of you, mingling with Adam’s thick, syrupy load.  

“OH FUCK, FUCK!” you cried out, fingers curling tightly against the bedsheets, heels digging into the mattress like you were trying to anchor yourself to sanity. His mouth continued to suck at your oversensitive bud, relentless and teasing, even as you drenched him with your essence.  

You peeked open your eyes to find him grinning like a kid in a candy store, his face glistening with your juices, and it sent a fresh wave of heat rushing to your core. The feeling of him latching onto you was intoxicating, pushing you to new heights as your walls pulsated around his fingers, unable to tell whether this was yet another orgasm or simply an extension of the last.  

“ADAM!” you screamed, practically sobbing as your body jolted and convulsed under his ministrations. Pleasure poured over you, and your breath came in heavy gasps, your mind slipping into a blissful haze. His fingers curled perfectly inside you, mashing your g-spot like he was playing some twisted game of whack a mole, keeping you suspended in a state of everlasting pleasure.  

The last thing you registered before the world faded away was Adam moaning your name, his voice vibrating through your very core like a damn choir.  

When you fluttered your eyes open again, your body was still bare and sprawled out like a starfish on the bed. You heard that familiar sound of suckling, and looking down, you couldn’t help but groan at the sight – his familiar mop of brown hair nestled between your thighs, still focused on drinking you up like a man starved for 40 days and 40 nights. 

Pleasure washed over you in soft, slow strokes as Adam continued to eat you out. “How long have you been down there?” you asked, voice hoarse from all the screaming and moaning.  

His head popped up, lips and chin glistening with your arousal. “Dunno, but they do call me the ultimate pussy eater,” he said with a cheeky grin, like he was the fucking king of the world.  

You dropped your head back against the bed, trying to stifle a laugh. “No, they don’t,” you muttered, breath hitching as his tongue parted your slick folds again. “Fuck, we can’t keep doing this,” you whined, instinctively opening your thighs wider to give him better access.  

His fingers gripped your hips, anchoring you as his tongue burrowed deeper into your pussy, pressing against your inner walls, exploring every inch like he was on some treasure hunt.  

Naturally, he didn’t listen to your protests. He continued to slurp and lick, devouring you like a feast, and you should have stopped him.  

You really should have.  

But as a jolt of pleasure shot up your spine, tingling all the way to your core, a soft, breathy moan escaped your lips.  

Fuck, this was bad. You had come to the hotel knowing you had little self-control around him, and at this rate, you were destined to fuck him every day.  

Your body, soft and pliant, refused to budge; instead, you pushed your hips deeper into his mouth. “Fuck you,” you murmured weakly, as he coaxed another sultry moan from your lips. “This will be the last fucking time, I swear,” you insisted, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushed you closer to the edge of pleasure.  

But deep down, you knew you had said it was the last time so many fucking times that you’d lost count of your own vows.  

You hated him, yes.  

But fuck him and fuck yourself. 

You didn’t hate this. 

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[justwinginglife]

Is this how I request? I'm a boomer, I dunno how to work these fancy gagits xD

Bbuutt you know what would be an amazing oneshot? Jealous!reader BUT Hoshina loves seeing her assert her dominance over other girls so he doesn't stop her (unless she's going too far)

I know you're busy so take your time with this ^.^

I love how this was your first request for me and I answered most of your requests first LOL. Finally coming back around to this one. Mature content mentioned.

Crazy

One of Soshiro's favorite things about you was your attitude. He loved the way your eyes burned bright, the way your lips dripped with sass, the way you spoke your mind about whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. He thought it was sexy when you told people off, and even sexier when you told him off. And he let you run wild most of the time because it was entertaining; it would be all the time if you didn’t know how to use your fists, and if he wasn’t nervous that you’d use them freely if provoked enough. 

One time, a dog bit you and you bit it back. Soshiro was both shocked and amused, the dog was less amused and more shocked. Either way, that was the day Soshiro discovered he had a biting kink. After that, he frequently nibbled and chomped on any accessible part of you to elicit a bite back. And when you did bite him, he felt like he was a dog, wagging his tail, overjoyed from the delicious attention. 

But as sexy as he thought you were, he knew you could get a bit too rowdy at times and the situation could quickly spiral out of control. He didn’t mind being the one to leash you, it was his intention to stay by your side at all times anyway. He was obsessed with you. And he counted himself lucky that you were also obsessed with a bastard like him. After all, he was the only person you’d ever listen to; even your commanding officers held no sway over you. It was just lucky for them that you happened to agree with their decisions most of the time. But you made damn sure they knew when you disagreed. 

Sometimes you teased Soshiro that the only reason he was a Vice Captain was because the promotion was out of gratitude from his superiors for him keeping you in line. Some days, he’d pout, going off about all the reasons why he deserved to be Vice Captain besides babysitting a little shit like you. Some days, he’d smirk, telling you he’d put you in your place right then and there on the conference table or in the training room, wherever you were. But every day, you enjoyed his banter. You wondered why no one else’s company was as valuable to you as his. Sometimes, half the shit he said drove you crazy and if anyone else had said them to you, you’d knock their teeth out. But for some bizarre reason, your heart ran marathons in your chest every time he talked to you, whether he was saying something annoying or not. And you didn’t have the time or energy to waste figuring it out, so you gave into the feeling. You let yourself love him. 

But you sure as hell didn’t let anyone else love him. 

He’d been getting rather popular lately and lots of news reporters had been poking around the base trying to snag an interview with him. Sometimes he gave them the time of day and sometimes he didn’t. But either way, it drew attention to him. Attention that you didn’t like. 

You thought you had finally established to everyone in the Third Division, no, to everyone in the entire Defense Force that he was yours. And he let you. But now, thanks to all the paparazzi, you found yourself having to defend your place by his side to all of Japan. To all the horny women (and a few horny men) looking to get a bite out of your man. 

But it had been slow at work lately, and the kaiju that had been popping up were unimpressive, leaving you bored. Maybe this was a way to vent your energy. Let them come at me, you thought to yourself. 

The opportunity came sooner than you would’ve liked. But you were ready all the same.

You were out running errands with Soshiro over the weekend and you asked him to take your groceries up to check out. You just wanted to grab a drink from the fridge real quick and you’d meet him up there. When you found him, he was getting hit on by the cashier.

It didn’t matter that he said no, it didn’t matter that he tried to shake her off, she continued with her pursuit of him regardless, and it pissed you the fuck off. He had finally finished paying and she had written her phone number on the receipt. When you saw that, you went up to her, wrapped a possessive arm around his waist, and then splashed the fresh soda you had just grabbed into her face. Then you slammed the exact change for the drink down on the counter and snarled at her, “Don’t ever talk to my man again,” before hauling Soshiro out of the store, leaving her stunned and him smirking. You, of course, immediatley ripped up the receipt with her number on it and Soshiro, wanting to tease you a bit, asked as innocently as he could, “Aww, but what if I needed to return something?” You glared at him and ignored him the whole ride home until he was literally begging on his knees for you to talk to him again. Once you’d seen the sorry sight, you immediately went back to acting like the whole event had never happened, humming happily as you cooked dinner. Soshiro questioned if you were ever even actually mad at him and if you purposely gave him the cold shoulder just to see how much he’d whine for you. He wasn’t wrong but you’d never admit it.

Another time, you were in a movie theater with Soshiro, simply trying to watch some romance together in peace. The couple in front of you was trying to fuck and when the girl threw her head back to moan, she caught sight of your boyfriend. She had the audacity to ask if he wanted to join, completely ignoring you snuggled up against him so that no one could mistake you for anything less than his girlfriend. You ripped the blanket off of them, snapped a photo of their half naked bodies mid-fuck, and showed the theater manager, getting them banned from the place for life (for shits and giggles, you even coaxed some free movie tickets from the manager to make up for such a “traumatizing experience.”) And then, when the bitch thought that was the worst you could do to her, you went and posted her shame online and let the internet do the rest of the work. Soshiro thought that last part was a little cruel, but the worse the crime against you, the harder you fought back. You didn’t feel remorseful in the slightest.

On a good day, you’d just stick your tongue down Soshiro’s throat, forcing whoever was hitting on him to awkwardly make their exit. On your worst day, you drove a cab driver’s car into a river because she had left the car unattended, keys still in the ignition, to step out and give Soshiro her number. When asked why you did it, you simply shrugged, saying you were in the mood for a swim. It was a good thing Soshiro had friends in the police department. Not that you needed them, he was sure you could gnaw your way through the cell bars anyway. 

But each and every time someone would flirt with Soshiro, he was grateful for it, because it turned him on watching you assert yourself over all these other women, and, having pent up energy after such frustrating encounters, you’d take it out on him, reminding him who he belonged to. He was having the time of his life. He’d only stop you if you were on the verge of injuring someone physically (you injured a lot of them psychologically) but part of him wondered if he’d still find that attractive. He did get horny whenever you beat a kaiju to a pulp. He wondered if that made him just as fucked up as you. You were a match made in heaven. 

And though he teased you relentlessly about your jealousy, you never failed to remind him just how envious he could be as well. 

If someone touched you during a sparring match, and they kind of had to if they were going to win, he would lose it. If someone asked for your name just to put it on your food order, he’d give them his instead, snarling that they had no business talking to his girl like that. And it wasn’t just the men. Hoshina was convinced that every woman was a lesbian and they were into you. If someone walking by stopped to comment on how they liked your hair or your lipstick, he’d immediately turn you around and steer you in the opposite direction, calling over his shoulder to them that it was too bad that your hair and your lipstick would be fucked up by the time he was finished with you. And you’d let him fuck you up too because his jealousy turned you on just as much as yours turned him on. For him, you turned into a raging, filthy slut.

And, after watching his possessiveness get the better of him, time and time again, you finally figured out why you worked so well together, why you were so obsessed with each other, why thoughts of him consumed you on a daily basis.

His crazy matched your crazy.

[velvetcloxds]

THE PRICE OF FREEDOM | S.R

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

word count: 0.8k

warnings: toxic family, parental role reversal, guilt

summary: spencer and the team come over to your new place to celebrate you finally leaving your toxic childhood home

a/n: started off strong , became too real, rushed the ending

It wasn’t much of an achievement for most, moving out of the house you grew up in, doing so in your mid-twenties even less so. But Spencer thought it the biggest achievement, the bravest step you’d ever taken, and you were touched by his excitement. It was a small little apartment, open floor space, everything flowing into one and with your boxes still scattered everywhere there was hardly room for everyone- but Spencer bought a cake. Rossi said he was bringing pasta and you just barely heard Emily promise to bring champagne, so you couldn’t talk anyone out of making a fuss.

It was a confusing set of emotions, you’d been dreaming of leaving for years, since your second year at university, but guilt always stopped you in your tracks. You didn’t want to leave without her, leave her in it, feel responsible for her, like getting a good job and finding a good place should be to save her and not yourself, not just yourself. And you waited, begged, bargained, fought with all your might to have her see things for what they were and leave, you would’ve done anything to make it happen for her- but despite it all, despite years of pain, she wasn’t ready to escape and as much as you wanted to make her ready, you couldn’t. You were, you didn’t have it in you to stay even if you wanted to for her, you had to get out, for you.

“Do you think there’s enough candles?” Spencer was fiddling about in the living room area, though it wasn’t truly ready to be lived in yet, furniture wasn’t in the cards for a while so of course he’d taken to constructing some with all your boxes.

“I think it’s plenty,” you smiled and it felt more sincere than it looked, only barely hiding the embarrassment from not having working lights set up yet. “More and we might set the place on fire before I unpack,” you pulled some paper plates and cups from the grocery bag, hoping no one would mind as much as you did.

You knew they wouldn’t, knew they wouldn’t mind sitting on dented boxes, eating cold pasta, and drinking fancy alcohol out of party cups. If anything it just felt like a testament to your fate, to how rash your decision was, how unprepared you were for whatever was to come. It reminded you that you had no idea how to exist outside of your terror, if you weren’t protecting your mother, what were you doing? Throwing lackluster dinner parties while she was still ever miserable with a horrid man and no escape. It made you feel all the more guilty, and all the more selfish. You couldn’t comprehend the excitement you were expected to be expressing. With all your might you had to convince yourself not to run right back to that blush pink bedroom stained at every inch with dried tears and echoed with screams of bitterness.

You had to convince yourself once again that you were free and you deserved to be as much, you didn’t choose to be born into that madness, you had every right to run away from it. She chose to stay, countless times, no matter how many scary nights or pleating fits of fear, she chose to stay.

“I think we can paint the walls if you’d like, Morgan would help me, though I wouldn’t ask Garcia because she might end up choosing a bright green or yellow,” you met his breathy scoff with a lazy hum, stilled in the middle of counting out the right amount of bamboo forks, staring at the only corner you’d managed to unpack- the photo frames. Spencer followed your gaze, and landed on a large frame with a colourful picture of you and your mom at the theatre, only a few months ago, her smile was only ever that big when you were away from home, from him. You dropped the lightweight utensils with a sigh, everything felt wrong, you felt wrong. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” he knew the answer but didn’t know how to approach the situation without asking anyway. You hummed, bit back a fake smile that would only turn to a frown even if you tried to stop it, and folded your arms around yourself to ground you.

How a space so small, so full, could feel so void, lonely, you weren't sure. Your mom had been dying for years, not physically, but he’d been hacking away at her soul since you could remember- left a shell of her, a ghost, you’d mourn her daily, he made sure of it. Now the mourning was different, the grief, leaving your best friend, your shadow felt like you’d buried her alive and left her screaming. Horrendous thing, the juxtaposition of it all, you couldn’t spend another second in that house, can’t imagine taking another breath without her at your side. You hoped she’d follow, it’s why you borrowed the queen size mattress and not the single from Hotch, space for her, somewhere to escape to when she was ready, but who’d protect her while she wasn’t?

“I was thinking,” careful hands slid over your elbows, loving smile met your gaze. “With your power still out, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone in the dark. Maybe I can stay over?” Spencer was never so forward, if he were he’d present you with ample facts to support his case first, not such a simple little tale of charm.

“Please,” you’d not usually accept so easily, but you were being profiled, you’d learn to know when you were and though not always intentional, Spencer tended not to notice how unsubtle he was with it. You smiled, traded your own embrace for his, looked up at him with your chin planted on his chest. “How am I reading, Dr. Reid?”

“Not well,” he tutted, brows dipped with sympathy, eyes sparkling with genuine care as foreign as it comes. “Which is valid, every horrible and amazing feeling that you’re experiencing is completely valid.”

“I’m scared she’ll never forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to be forgiven for, you are not her keeper, she knows that, you love her but that’s still the truth,” he kissed your forehead, squeezed you a little tighter than before. “You know all of this, but I won’t stop reminding you.”

“Can we visit her?”

“As many times as you need to.”

You stood like that for too long before the room echoed with far too eager knocks, dinner was cold but delicious as only Rossi can achieve and when the cake came you were sat on the floor next to Spencer, smiling as Derek bargained for the biggest piece. Spencer’s hand was entangled with yours in his lap, head on his shoulder and for just a second you felt light, weightless- new.

“Are you still okay, sweetheart?” he whispered with a soft smile, hopeful and you nodded, instantly took the plate when JJ handed you the biggest piece of cake.

“I think so, Spence, I think it’s all going to be okay.”

Maybe it was delusion, maybe tomorrow you’d wake up drowning in dread and pack your few unpacked boxes to go back, maybe you’d stay and spend every second hating yourself for giving up on her, not saving her, maybe she’d finally leave and start over. Maybe you’d stay stuck in time, lingering between the first time he did it and the last, forever the little girl who grew up too soon because someone had to take responsibility for saving her. Maybe you had no purpose beyond that, maybe that’s what you were made for, to fix her and comfort her and stand up for her. Maybe you were the biggest of failures for thinking you could have more from life than that horror, that love ridden burden. Maybe peace only comes after and not during life, born into chaos, into hatred out of young love, maybe the idea of your freedom was as fleeting as his affinity for family. How can someone raised in darkness ever dare to look for light, let alone try and live in it? Maybe you were only ever meant to be nothing more and nothing less than a lesson about how broken people make broken children. Shackled by the knowledge that you never should’ve been, she’d left him sooner if you weren’t.

Imagine that, your whole life devoted to making up for being born, for making it impossible to leave until it was far too late. Hope and freedom, like love, is nothing but a golden cage.

[batwritings]

Kinktober Day 5 - Dry Humping

Lt's turn now! >:3 Sorry for the wait for all my Ghost lovers lol. Enjoy!~

Warning! This piece does involve a few drops of degradation! Please be warned before reading! Thank you!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To say the mission went well…wasn’t exactly true. A few more things exploded than need be and your target nearly escaped right through your fingers. But Ghost had your back as he always did, making sure the mission went off without too many hitches. 

The only problem now that you were back at base now was the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You were doing this weird power walk that you did when you were on a mission through the halls of base. You remember hearing “Where’s the fire mate?” from Soap as you passed him, but gave him no response. 

Your feet didn’t stop until you made it to Ghost’s office, rapping your whitening knuckles on the door three times. “Permission to enter Lieutenant,” you said, voice clipped and rushed.

A heavy sigh before you heard, “Permission granted.” from the other side. You quickly slipped into the masked man’s office, shutting the door nearly silently. You shut the blinds to ensure whatever went on in that room going forward, was entirely hidden.

Ghost didn’t miss your actions, but kept silent, trying so hard to actually finish his paperwork for once. It was a rare occurrence these days, with back to back missions keeping his plate rather full. Yet he knew, oh this man knew that you weren’t here to help, but to fully distract him. It was a war in his mind on whether or not he’d let you.

Before he could make a decision, you were in his lap, straddling his hips. “Adrenaline’s still pumping boss,” you advise him. Yours and Ghost’s relationship had fairly recently taken on a more physical tone, so the contact wasn’t entirely unwelcome or unexpected. 

“Take it out in the training room,” Ghost tells you bluntly. “I need to get this work done.” Now, if you had heard this before you starting worming your way closer to the stressed lieutenant, you would’ve thought he was genuinely frustrated with you. But no, this was Simon’s way of telling you “keep pushing and you’ll either regret it or I’ll make it worth your while”.

You wrap you arms around his neck and hug your body close, letting your eager sex come in contact with his clothed one. “Please Si~” you whine, voice low and in his ear. You hear the pen stop writing and his member twitch, but otherwise Ghost doesn’t react. “C’mon, a little distraction won’t hurt that much.”

Before you get a verbal response, you’re being pulled back by the collar of your shirt. “If you’re so desperate to get off,” Simon growls, masked face inches from yours. “Why do you prove how bad you need it? Get yourself off on my thigh like a good whore.”

Your face flushed a bright pink at his demand, but you got the assignment quickly. You used your knee to nudge Ghost’s legs apart so you could sit your sex fully on his thick thigh. Just that little friction left you whimpering for more. “C-can I move, Sir?” you asked, voice now soft so he could focus. 

“Go on,” he told you, eyes never leaving the work in front of him. You don’t waste any time, slowly beginning to rock yourself forward, dragging your sex along his thigh. You sigh in relief at the pleasure that courses through you, even through the durable fabric of your regulation cargo pants. 

“Such a pretty little thing,” Simon hums, still not turning his burning brown eyes to watch you. “Always making such beautiful noises for me.” You whimpered a little louder now at his praise, trying to keep yourself from falling apart immediately.

“I’ll bet you just can’t wait for me to be done with this paperwork can you?” The man says, this time sounding more like a growl than his usual teasing hum. “Can’t wait to feel my thick cock inside you huh? Pinned to the bed and nowhere to go but where I tell you.”

“S-Simon–” you gasp, hips rocking harder and faster with each word that he spoke. It took some coaxing from you to even get Ghost to speak up in bed. He wasn’t exactly sure how to even commence dirty talk until you gave him a bit of teachings on what you liked. After that it felt like you couldn’t get him to shut up, not that you were complaining of course. 

“What love?” He asks, so mischievously it hurt. “Can’t handle a little dirty talk? Don’t lie to me slut, I know you love it. Almost as much as being face down in your cot.”

Your nails were practically digging into the back of his t-shirt now, your sex making an absolute mess beneath the fabric of your uniform. “G-gonna come, please–” Your mind was so fuzzy, you nearly forgot to let him know of your impeding orgasm. 

“Go on love,” Ghost tells you. In a move you hadn’t expected in the least, you hear fabric moving and then a bruise being sucked into your neck. “Make a mess for your lieutenant.” 

Something about the way Ghost’s growl was unfiltered and the sudden contact had your peak practically punching you in the gut as you doubled over with a loud moan. Your sex pulsed against the inside of your underwear and uniform pants. You hid your face as best you could against Simon’s neck whining loudly as you finally finished. 

You nearly went limp before strong hands caught you to hold you steady against Ghost’s chest. “That’s it love, good job,” he praises, rubbing your back. “D’you need water? Anything?” That was another learned thing that the lieutenant picked up on quickly; aftercare. He had no clue what it was previously until you walked him through it after a particularly nasty subdrop. 

You shake your head, finally starting to calm down. “Thank you Si,” you mumble against the fabric of his shirt.

“Don’t thank me yet sweetheart,” the blonde chuckled softly.  “You’re still getting punished for interrupting me.” Your eyes went wide as Ghost continued on writing his reports calmly as if nothing happened.

Well…not the worst way to end a mission you supposed.

[mochiwrites]

Taking a quick glance at the time, Grian checks over their apartment once more. The banner and streamers have all been put up in the kitchen, the cake is neatly presented on the table, Jellie is in her cat tree like the princess she is. Perfect. Grian nods to himself with a satisfied smile before heading over to the couch and sitting down. He’s been going crazy all morning trying to prepare something for Scar’s birthday, sending the man out on pointless errands just to take up his time.

Honestly, Grian is quite proud of himself that he managed to get this all set up on his own and without any accidents.

His boyfriend only deserves the best, after all. And Grian is willing to do whatever he can to provide just that, come hell or high water.

The doorknob jiggles a few seconds later, before the door itself opens. “Grian! I’m home!” Right on time.

Grian tries to look as casual as he can on the couch as Scar comes in, four bags in his hands. He shoots the man a smile, “Hey! How’d it go?”

“I think I found everything on the list you gave me,” Scar hums, glancing down at the bags. He walks into the kitchen, too focused on the bags to notice the banner and streamers. “I got the cat food for Jellie, a nice jar of golden carrots — which before you say anything I bartered for a lower price.”

Grian can hear the smugness in Scar’s voice, making him chuckle, “Only you, Scar. Only you.”

“That’s a compliment, thank you!” Scar sets the bags down on the table, and Grian waits with excited anticipation for him to notice the cake. “The only thing I wasn’t able to find was the imagineer cat plush? Honestly G I didn’t even know where to—”

His voice suddenly stops, and Grian takes that as his cue to join Scar in the kitchen. He finds the other staring at the cake on the table, along with the very plush he had just been talking about. Grian wears a large grin on his face as he comes over, patting the plush’s head, “Don’t worry about that one. I managed to find it.”

Scar’s head snaps to him, green eyes carrying shock and disbelief, “G?”

Grian walks over to him, moving to wrap his arms around his shoulders. “I know it’s not much but… I wanted to do something for your birthday. Even if it’s a few days late because someone didn’t think to tell me.” He playfully pinches the back of Scar’s neck.

“Oh,” Scar answers, still looking shocked. He sets his hands on Grian’s waist as his eyes trail over to the cake and cat plush on the table. “Oh Grian,” he mumbles, in awe. “This is amayzin’!”

His words pull a laugh from Grian, all light and fond. “It better be, I spent all morning getting everything set up,” he teases.

Scar turns his bright, excited eyes to Grian before leaning in to press their lips together. “I love it. Thank you.”

Grian smiles in return, chest warm with pride at the happiness in Scar’s expression. “You’re welcome. Now c’mon, this cake isn’t gonna eat itself!” He reaches for Scar’s hand, tugging on it as he leads him over to the plate he’s set out.

Happy to be tugged along, Scar follows his boyfriend the few steps it takes them to the cake. It’s decorated with orange icing, the words Happy Birthday Scar! written in cyan icing. The little cat plush Grian had mentioned sits next to it, wearing a vest and a hard hat, a rolled up paper attached to its paw. Scar picks it up, looking at it with adoration. He takes in the decorations around, the orange streamers and green banner with a birthday message on it.

If Scar had known this is what was going to be awaiting him when he told Grian his birthday, he would’ve caved much sooner.

He watches as Grian grabs two plates, forks, and a knife to cut the cake from the drawer and cabinet, mouth moving as he speaks. Scar doesn’t quite catch what he’s saying, too stuck in his own thoughts.

Void, he loves this man more than anything in the world. Grian went through all this effort for him, even if his birthday has passed. But he did it because he thought Scar was worth celebrating.

It’s a passing thought, but Scar wishes his parents could have met Grian. He wishes they could be here right now, celebrating his birthday again. It would only be right, considering the last time Scar did any sort of celebration was before his server went to hell.

Seeing all of the effort Grian put into this solidifies something for Scar. He survived. It’s not just some dream. He’s not sure why it’s hitting him now, as he stares at a cake with the word ‘birthday’ written on it in icing that was clearly done by Grian. But he’s forced to realize that he really made it through his corrupted world, he’s survived.

It feels like a hard pill to swallow.

“Alright, birthday boy, why don’t you do th— Scar?” Grian had been holding the knife out to the other, but when he sees the wet sheen to Scar’s eyes, he sets it down on the table. With a soft noise, he reaches out, grabbing Scar’s arms gently, “Hey, what’s wrong? It’s not the cake, is it? Or the streamers? I tried not to get anything that was super flashy.”

Scar laughs wetly, furiously shaking his head as he looks at Grian through his tears. “N-No, it’s perfect love. Everything is perfect.”

“But?” Grian gently probes, reaching up to wipe one of the tears that fall down Scar’s cheek. Scar leans into the touch easily.

“I wish they were here too,” Scar quietly admits, and Grian doesn’t need to ask to know who ‘they’ are. More tears roll down Scar’s face, causing Grian to tug him down into his arms. Scar buries his head into Grian’s neck, feeling the other wrap an arm around him, fingers carding through his hair. Scar clutches him tightly, “The last… last time I ever celebrated was with them.”

Grian quietly shushes him, holding him tight. His neck feels wet, but he doesn’t dare pull away.

“Sorry G,” Scar mumbles. “You did all this hard work and here I am crying over it,” he weakly laughs, “I just… never thought I’d do anything like this a-again.”

“Don’t apologize you silly man,” Grian huffs at him, continuing to run his fingers through Scar’s fluffy hair. “It’s only natural, given what you went through. As long as you don’t get your cake wet, cry away.”

Scar laughs again, tugging Grian tighter against him. “I’d hate to eat soggy cake.”

“No one wants a soggy cake.” Grian nods his agreement, laying his head against Scar’s. “Now go on, cry it all out. I’ll… be right here. To hold you and stuff.” He sounds a little awkward as he says it, but words have never been his thing. The fact that he even says something for Scar means the world and more. “If you need extra incentive I’ve got your favorite movies lined up for us to watch too.”

Void, Scar loves this man.

And somewhere, he hopes his parents love him too.

[meazalykov]

soft spot

esmee brugts x uswnt x sensitive!reader

summary: a hurt reader starts to feel a soft spot for a girl, even if she tries to fight it.

part one (part two here)

warnings: angst, mentions of betrayal, reader being an Ahole for the first part.

Y/n had spent months preparing for the World Cup 2023 in Australia. As a player for Chelsea, she was no stranger to pressure. But nothing could have prepared y/n for the emotional whirlwind that will hit her. 

Jane, her girlfriend of three years, had called her to talk. Y/n, despite ignoring her girlfriend due to latest rumors, had expected a heartfelt farewell, some last-minute words of encouragement, maybe even a promise to watch every game and cheer her on from afar. Any reassurance that their relationship was good.

Instead, Jane dropped a bombshell. 

"I don't think things are working out between us," she said, her voice devoid of the warmth Y/n had grown to love. 

“Wait what?” Y/n’s mumbled as she processed her girlfriend's words. 

"It's hard with you being away all the time, playing for Chelsea.” 

“You said that wasn’t a problem?” Y/n was confused at her girlfriend's words. At the age of 17, y/n forfeited her college eligibility in the United States to play for the youth academy at Chelsea. She had to leave her new girlfriend in the process, but Jane encouraged her to go live her dreams. Why did she change? 

“Yeah but-” 

“Jane, I feel like you’re lying to me.” Y/n admitted. Over the last few weeks, the footballer had friends questioning Jane’s loyalty in their relationship. The twenty year old woman had a feeling that Jane was emotionally cheating on her with another mutual friend of theirs, Ashlyn.

“I-I’m not.” 

“Sure–whatever.” 

“Ever since you’ve moved away to London, we’ve barely had time to see each other. I’m sorry— I still love you–but this isn’t working out.” Jane spoke softly. 

“Okay, fine.” Y/n hung up the phone as she noticed the tears coming down her bright (color) eyes. She knew Jane was lying which made the pain more excruciating. 

Those words from Jane repeated in Y/n’s mind for days. She had known Jane found the distance challenging, but she never thought it would come to this. She felt her heart shatter into a thousand pieces, the betrayal amplified since Jane had found solace in Ashlyn, someone Y/n had never suspected could be a threat to their relationship. Ashlyn was a college BIOMED student who spent her time in her books— just like Jane. oh. 

Two days later, Y/n boarded the flight to Australia, her mind a storm of emotions. She tried to focus on the upcoming matches, the strategies, the training sessions, but Jane's words echoed in her head. 

“Hey, what's the matter?” Y/n took her airpod out of her left ear when she noticed her team captain, Alex Morgan, sitting beside her in the business class seat. 

Originally, Emily Fox was supposed to sit beside Y/n, but Emily figured that Alex would’ve been better at figuring out what was wrong with the American right winger. 

“Nothing.” Y/n mumbled, giving a light smile, hoping that Alex would be reassured by that. 

“Well– the dry tears on your cheeks doesn’t make your situation sound like nothing.” Alex said. Y/n always had the strength to speak up about her emotions when she needed to, what could’ve happened? Why is she secretive and independent now? 

The image of Jane and Ashlyn together gnawed at Y/n as she looked at Alex. This filled her with a cold, bitter resolve. If Jane had left her for someone else, Y/n would channel that pain into her performance on the field. However, she didn’t want to open up about it yet. 

“Once I process this, I’ll tell you what's wrong– okay?” Y/n smiled as her eyes began to gain moisture. Alex frowned before hugging the girl fourteen years her senior. Alex knew she couldn't force Y/n to speak up, unless her emotions started to affect the team chemistry.

 

As the World Cup kicked off, Y/n's teammates noticed a stark change in her demeanor. Gone was the cheerful, happy, approachable player they knew; in her place was someone with a steely gaze and an edge to her play that could’ve been described as ruthless. 

In their opening match against Vietnam, this new Y/n was on full display. In the tenth minute, she already side tackled two vietnamese players. This was not her playstyle. Usually, she will take the ball with her feet without needing to take extreme measures. As the game continued on, the number 17 player played with an intensity that was both impressive and alarming, her tackles hard and her determination fierce. Fans were impressed by the forward having defensive approaches, but were concerned once her aggressiveness showed. 

Midway through the second half. Y/n was tackled onto the ground by the Vietnamese left back. Jane couldn't get out of her head during the match, which pissed Y/n off.  During her goal in the 45 + 7’ minute, y/n’s heart fell into her stomach when she realized that she couldn’t do her usual “J” symbol as her celebration anymore. Jane was another girl’s girlfriend now. 

Seeing Jane and Ashlyn in her mind, Y/n stood up at the left-back who didn’t back up from the challenge. Normally composed, Y/n lost her cool and pushed the player to the ground. Y/n had no emotion when the ref flashed her a yellow card. The Vietnamese player, who looked up at the star player, was visibly confused. She stared at y/n in shock as the referee intervened.

The crowd murmured, “What is going on with Y/n L/n in this match? 

The commentators speculated, “It looks like Y/n L/n is playing with her emotions tonight, which is shocking since she's known as one of the more “contained” and “emotionally mature” players on the team at just the age of twenty.” 

Her USWNT teammates exchanged worried glances on the pitch and the bench. Lynn Williams, y/n’s older friend, pulled her to the side and asked “What were you thinking?” to which Y/n shrugged. 

Y/n didn't care about her actions. Her heart was cold, and all she could think about was proving to herself, to Jane, and to everyone watching that she didn't need anyone's pity or concern. Even if they weren't aware of the problem. 

As the match ended, Y/n walked off the pitch with her head held high since she scored and won against Vietnam, but inside, the turmoil raged on. She knew that she had to keep her emotions in check if she wanted to help her team get the World Cup for the third time in a row, but the betrayal by her Ex wasn’t forgotten. 

Lindsey did confront Y/n on her actions, considering that this is Y/n’s first ever yellow card in an International competition. However, y/n brushed it off as being mad about being tackled to the ground. The blonde debuted her reasoning but proceeded to focus on the next group stage match, 

The Netherlands. 

Despite her best efforts to calm her stormy emotions by meditating, going on walks in the Australian weather, and listening to motivational podcasts— the betrayal Y/n felt from Jane's infidelity still burned hot within her.

When the game against the Netherlands started Y/n's aggression was palpable. In the third minute, Y/n pushed Danielle Van, but was excused since it looked as if she was getting the ball. Alex, Lindsey, and Vlatko were nervous each time they saw their star forward clash with an Oranje player.  

Everyone noticed the increased speed that y/n gained when she gained possession of the ball. Y/n ran the ball up the pitch before passing to Alex Morgan, who failed to shoot the ball since the Dutch goalkeeper grabbed it inside the box on time. 

Five minutes later, the same thing happened again. Y/n gained possession of the ball and dribbled her way up the field. 

It wasn't long before her path crossed with Esmee Brugts, #22 on the Dutch National team. Y/n had known of Esmee through social media; they'd followed each other for a while, a year to be exact. The girl didn’t remember how or why but everyone seems to know of each other in this community. 

Y/n would’ve been lying if she said that she didn’t find Esmee attractive currently. The way Esmee effortlessly moved the ball made y/n concentrated on getting the ball from her. However, y/n’s current emotional state made it hard to think of anything beyond the match at hand—and her ex.

During a particularly intense moment in the game, Esmee and Y/n collided. Esmee's shove sent Y/n sprawling to the ground, her face painfully meeting the grass. At first y/n was shocked, looking up to see a standing Esmee who looked forward at the ball who Lindsey Horan gained possession of.

The sudden flare of pain in y/n’s jaw triggered a surge of anger as she was still on the ground– Jane's betrayal flashed through Y/n's mind as the pain got worse. Y/n, not thinking rationally, sprang to her feet, her emotions boiling over as she ran to confront Esmee.

"What is wrong with you?" Y/n shouted, her voice trembling with rage. "She can't do that?!!! That should’ve been a yellow??” Y/n looked over at the assistant referee who didn’t have much to say.

"I wasn't trying to hurt you-"

"Shut up!-- What were you trying to do to me then?" Y/n cuts the dutch #22 player off.

Esmee, taken aback by the loudness of Y/n's outburst, tried to explain more, but Y/n's anger was already spiraling out of control. The Dutch girl knew of Y/n through social media, they’ve had a few mutual friends who described Y/n as a sweet and matured girl. Y/n was someone different here. 

The confrontation quickly drew the attention of players and officials alike, and it took several of Y/n's teammates to pull her away from Esmee as she continued to misplace her anger on the girl with braids. 

The referee, seeing the situation escalating, issued a warning. At the same time Vlatko made the swift decision to substitute Y/n L/n out for Trinity Rodman, before she got a second yellow.

As Y/n sat on the bench, her mind raced. In another place, American commentators speculated on her uncharacteristic aggression, 

“Looks like an altercation happened on the pitch between United States star Y/n L/n and Dutch star Esmee Brugts.” 

“Well– I wouldn't consider that a full altercation. Y/n was the one who had a problem with Esmee’s challenge.” 

“Yeah, for sure, it looked one sided. I wonder if something is wrong with Y/n that the team is starting to notice. She’s played in 23 international matches so far in her career and it seems like the World Cup brought out some new emotions for the young star.” 

After the game, the team captains, Alex Morgan and Lindsey Horan, pulled Y/n aside into a private room. Y/n was intimidated by their strict demeanors as they sat her on a blue bench in an all white room. The captains saw enough to know that something deeper was troubling their teammate.

"Y/n, we need to talk," Alex said gently. 

"We do. We know that there’s something wrong— What's going on with you?" Lindsey said. 

Y/n hesitated, the idea of vulnerability after being cheated on caused genuine fear in the girl’s eyes. 

Lindsey noticed this, but as the captain she needed to know how to fix her teammate. “We aren’t leaving this room until we have an idea on what's wrong. We are here for you and want to help you– so please tell us what’s wrong.” 

The concern in her captain's eyes broke through y/n’s emotional shields. 

“S-Sh-um–She cheated.” Y/n mumbled out as tears poured down her dimpled cheeks. 

“What?” Alex questioned. She looked over at her fellow captain, Lindsey, who was just as confused. 

“Jane lef-lef-left me for her.” The floodgates poured down Y/n’s eyes at this point. 

“Jane left you for who, sweetheart?” Alex said as she went to hug Y/n. Lindsey got on her knees in front of y/n, comforting her as she felt pain from seeing her favorite young forward hurt. They knew who Jane was, but never met her throughout Y/n’s three year relationship. 

“Jane left me for Ashlyn. She said she was tired of me being away in England and that we weren’t working out.” Y/n sobbed on Alex’s shoulder. 

“Honey, I am so sorry. Why didn’t you tell us this before, we could’ve helped you.” Alex’s maternal instincts kick in as she sees y/n so broken, so hurt. Y/n was known to be the happiest, most emotionally mature, and a bright light on the team. Everyone seeing her so aggressive last week caused shock among the captains. They understand what’s wrong now. 

“It happened before we left to come here. Wh-What did I do wrong?” Y/n continued to sob. 

“Nothing, you did nothing wrong. You didn’t deserve that.” Lindsey said. 

Y/n confessed everything about Jane's betrayal, the pain that had consumed her, and how it had affected her gameplay. 

“Why did I lash out at Esmee like that too? Her of all people?? What the fuck?? I feel like I am a piece of shit!” Y/n says five minutes later as she processed the moments of today’s game. Tears continued to stream down her puffy face as she admitted how guilty she felt about lashing out at Esmee Brugts.

“She will be okay, y/n. You can apologize later, but we still need to help you with your problems about your ex.” Lindsey softly says. 

"You can't let Jane or that situation destroy you. We're here for you, and we'll help you through this." Alex whispered in Y/n’s ear, which warmed the cold heart in her body.

The tournament continued, but the USWNT's journey ended in the round of 16 with a loss to Sweden. Y/n's performance had improved, but her heart wasn't fully in the game. She made one of the penalties against Sweden, but it wasn’t enough. 

The World Cup ended in disappointment but y/n’s advanced technical skills and goal scoring abilities gained her a new opportunity– Barcelona Femení contacted her and approached her with an offer. Eager for a fresh start, Y/n accepted and moved away from London, hoping that the new memories will help her healing journey. 

(pretend you're sam kerr below)

wosonews

BREAKING 🚨 | FC Barcelona Femeni have completed the signing of Y/n L/n from Chelsea on a 4-year deal 💙❤️

comments

wosowbbfan she's a striker that barcelona needs 🥲 I will miss her ❤️

y/nl/n17_ seeing her and alexia putellas talking after the champions league semi game last season, I suspected this might've happened 😧

indigoblue578 isn't Esmee Brugts almost ready to sign for barcelona too? 👀😬

kerrfan yes esmee will if she doesn't go to arsenal. I'm positive y/n apologized to esmee for what happened at the World Cup ☺️

Indigoblue578 @/kerrfan yeah y/n is a sweetheart, I'm positive the thing with Jane Holland is what caused her to be so emotional during the world cup 🙁

kerrfan @/indigoblue578 I agree

Portthorns9378 She's never going to the NWSL is she? 😭

Barcahive the first American in Barcelona lets goooo 🙌

--

On the first day at training with Barcelona, days before they’re supposed to go to Mexico for a friendly game, Y/n's past summer collided with her present. As she walked into the dressing room, she saw Esmee Brugts, now a teammate. Y/n's heart sank with guilt as she recalled their confrontation back in Australia. 

Meeting most of the team days prior, y/n knew that she was in a comfortable spot and didn’t want to make things awkward or tense. That is not a good look for your first season at the catalan club where most of the girls consider each other a family.

Thankfully, Ingrid Engen noticed the tense look on y/n’s face as she tied her ivory colored cleats. Ingrid had always been perceptive, and she could tell something was bothering someone. Even with y/n who is new to the club. Ingrid walked over and sat beside the younger girl.

“Hey, (reader’s nickname)... is everything alright?” Ingrid placed a hand on the twenty year old’s shoulder. Y/n sighed as she looked around the dressing room, wondering if it was the right time to speak to her mind. Noticing that some people already left to head out on the pitch for training, including Esmee, y/n didn’t see the harm in telling Ingrid what's wrong. She hoped that speaking up would bring some peace to the situation. 

“It’s about Esmee– At the world cup I went off on Esmee over a challenge we had together on the pitch. This was after my ex cheated on me so I misplaced my anger on some people, including Esmee.” y/n sighed. 

“After finding out that Esmee was joining Barcelona this season I felt more guilt than before— I wanted to reach out on instagram to apologize but I didn’t– I don’t know— I – I just feel so bad.” Y/n continued as she whispered to Ingrid. 

Y/n sat in the dressing room, her mind racing. She knew she had to apologize to Esmee for the sake of team chemistry. Luckily, not many on the team knew about what happened during the Netherlands vs United States match, but still— y/n didn't know how to approach Esmee without the other girls around. The memory of her outburst still haunted her, and despite Esmee's seemingly friendly demeanor, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that was on her.

As she sat there, lost in thought, Ingrid wraps her arms around y/n shoulders which she relaxes into after a few seconds. Y/n is still getting used to the physical affection that europeans show to each other on a normal basis. 

"I remember that. You were going through a tough time, and it got the best of you. Have you thought about when you want to talk to her?" Ingrid nodded, understanding.

"I have, but every time I try to find the right moment, I just freeze up," Y/n confessed. "I feel like it would be more genuine if I did it myself, but I don't know how she'll react."

Ingrid offered a reassuring smile. "Esmee doesn't hate you, Y/n. She's not the type to hold grudges. Besides, she probably doesn't even think about it anymore. The World Cup ended in a Spanish victory anyways, and everyone's moved on."

"Maybe," Y/n said, uncertainty still clouding her voice. "But I can't move on until I make things right with her."

"Do you want Ale and I to help you?" Ingrid offered. "We can be there for support or even help you set up a time to talk."

Y/n shook her head, a small smile forming. "Thanks, Ingrid, but I think I need to do this on my own. It needs to come from me, and it needs to be genuine."

Ingrid squeezed Y/n's shoulder. "I get it. Just remember, Esmee is a kind person. She won’t brush you off or hold what you did against you. She'll understand. You've got this, Y/n. And if you need to talk afterward, I’m here."

Y/n took a deep breath, feeling a bit more confident with Ingrid's reassurance. "Thanks, Ingrid. I appreciate you."

"Anytime," Ingrid said, standing up. "Now, let's go train and see if you can talk to her after– okay?” The Norwegian took the American's hands and pulled her up from the dressing room bench.

Y/n nodded, determination filling her. She stood up and headed out of the dressing room, ready to go train before going to Mexico with the team tomorrow morning. 

As she headed closer to the door, she spots Esmee in the hallway talking to Bruna and Jana. Y/n felt herself freeze up at first, but fought against herself and approached the group of girls.

"Esmee, can I talk to you for a minute?" Y/n asked, her voice steady despite her nerves. Jana and Bruna smiled at Y/n in understanding before heading outside to the pitch. Training isn’t supposed to start for another five minutes so she hopes she can fit her apology in this time. 

Esmee turned, her expression curious. "Of course, Y/n. What's up?"

Y/n gestured to a quieter corner of the hallway. She didn’t want anyone eavesdropping, as she understood that some of the young La Masia girls loved to do that sometimes. 

"I need to talk to you about what happened during the World Cup---um--- I need to apologize."

Esmee's eyes softened as she followed Y/n. "You don't have to apologize about that, Y/n. I understand you were going through a tough time."

"No, I do need to," Y/n insisted. "I was out of line, and I took my anger out on you. You were playing the game and I couldn’t handle my emotions. It wasn't fair to you, and I'm really sorry."

Esmee smiled warmly. "Thank you, Y/n. It means a lot that you came to talk to me. But really, it's in the past.” 

“I know but I just couldn’t move on until I told you how sorry I am. I’ve moved on from my ex, who caused the outburst, and the World Cup itself– but I just had to apologize to you.” Y/n gave a light smile.  

“I appreciate that a lot. But let's just start over, okay?" 

Y/n felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Okay. "

---

part two here

<3