#took me a while to get the lighting right though

[unknownogre]

“I come to steal a famous dime, the locks will be picked and it will be mine

I’ll dance away and you will see…I’ll laugh at you while I drink my TEA!”

The rhymes were terrible but that was the trademark for The Fool. He wore the jesters costume, bells and all with a mask that was always smiling, it could be seen as unsettling…if he didn’t have the reputation he did. If there was a rank for villains below F that would be where he sat. Glitter bombs, whoopie cushions, rubber chickens…and very telegraphed heist plans. No one took him seriously…and that was certainly part of his charm. No one ever got hurt fighting The Fool, no one ever lost hope. Villains, heroes, it didn’t matter. When The Fool was involved oddly everyone felt better about themselves. Even if he was considered a villain he had respect from both sides and that was good enough for him. He didn’t need to be taken seriously; he was here for his own mission, and it was being done just fine.

“I am evil…no one is on my lee-vil…

I’ll add this loot to my pile…no one can beat my style!”

He was just marching down the street, popping here and there in the blink of an eye. Everyone sees this as minor illusion at best since he hasn’t so much as scratched a single hero of villain. That was good to have them think of him as harmless, that was the best way to get done what he wanted to get done. The museum was in sight…it was time to get the heist started. He knew who’d be trying to stop him…a husband and wife team called Wind and Fire…they boost each other’s abilities a considerable amount and have stopped world ending events with just the pair. These heroes were greatly respected. They just lost their son to a long debilitating illness and haven’t had their heads on straight since. This just what they needed, some banter, low steaks risk…a little fun and they’ll be right as rain.

“The Fool is here, please be a dear,

And steer clear but don’t shed a tear

My victory is all but clear!”

He said as he rounded the corner to the museum. Today was going to be a good…

…the front to the museum had been all but destroyed and the sounds of battle could be heard within. On the steps The Fool could see the body of fire…tormented, twisted and very much dead eyes frozen open in horror and pain. His heart stopped for a moment…this wasn’t supposed to happen. What…what was going on here?

He ran, forgetting who he was and why he was here for a moment just so he could get eyes on the fight that was happening. Wind would need support, oh gods he hoped he wasn’t too late. Right when he made it at the top of the steps her body hit the ground right at his feet, her limbs were crushed and twisted in impossible angles. Still she had a bit of life…her eyes landed on the familiar mask, sorrow in her eyes…so much pain.

“Fly you Fool. Fly…r…u…”

With that the light from her eyes faded. Sadness, grief…this wasn’t supposed to happen. This was supposed to be a nice easy day, hearts were supposed to be repaired not stopped. Heavy footsteps brought him back to the current scene, surrounded by debris right in front of him stood a giant of a creature, dressed in all black with a mask that hid any features of his face…was the villain known as Terror, he was supposed to be small time though. Sure there were whispers that he was on the rise, fifteen hours away. Why would he come here?!

“The Fool…THE FOOL! HA! My lucky day. If you bow down to me and lick my boot I might let you get me a beer from the fridge!”

Terror stood over seven feet tall with arms as thick as tree trunks. The Fool just looked there, standing his ground for the moment. His head canting this way and that.

“Today…wasn’t the day

Yet into the fray I dare stray

Still, I don’t think I feel

Submissive enough to lick your heel.”

Terror laughed and threw a lazy punch at the Fool’s head fully intending to connect. Yet it seemed he just punched the air right next to the trickster villain. There was a touch of confusion but then just a light chuckle. Terror’s eyes went to Wind’s twisted body.

“Oh, she is kind of cute, twist her limbs back and I could have some fun. Bet she is still warm…”

IT was then The Fool’s mask changed. There was no smile, nothing pleasant, but instead it was in a grimace of rage. Teeth bared, eyes glowing red…very much reflecting his current mood. Terror only noticed this as he was sailing backward through the air from a hit that was so powerful it took a few moments to register the pain from the impact.

“SHUT UP! You don’t get to talk about her anymore, not him either. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?”

Then Terror seemed to hit an invisible wall stopping him just short of the actual museum wall…and he hit it hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. He bounced off the barrier and then hit the floor, rolling onto his back with a groan.

“You…you were an easy mark. Kill…to show dominance, then you submit, and I have a place in a big city.”

In a blink The Fool was in the face of Terror, moving several dozen yards in the span of a heartbeat. Another strike to the head, a back hand that shattered Terror’s mask, embedding pieces in the skin of a rather unremarkable face. Again he was lifted off of his feet and again he slammed into an invisible barrer before he could do more damage to the interior of the museum.

“Think if it was that easy it would have been done already? Did you ask around? Ask why not a single hero of villain has come to ‘claim my territory? First, I am well liked…I perform a service to keep everyone sane so they don’t go insane or kill themselves. Everyone has a place in this world, hero or villain and I’m here to make them want to stay in it instead of destroying it or destroying themselves.”

Again in a blink The Fool covered a distance impossibly fast. Terror could hardly move as he was grabbed by the front of his shirt and thrown into the center of the room as though he was nothing more than a rag doll to the man who stood no taller that five feet five inches.

“One…a single villain has tried this. I caught wind of it first…they simply disappeared. No one knew what happened to them and not a single person gave a fuck. The truth…if I wanted to I could rule the world. Not a group of heroes, not the league of villains, not anyone could do anything to stop me. I’ve done it twice actually…burned entire nations just so I could ‘protect’ everyone. I fucked it up each and every time…so I’d reverse time and try it again. Never came out like I wanted…so I stopped.”

During this conversation Terror tried to stand and summoning what rage he could tried to charge forward to punch The Fool…yet he seemed to be almost held in place. All of his power being put to just move less than a millimeter.

“I found my role was to help in different ways. A simple heist, a way to give confidence. Let the heroes vent their loss, talk about their insecurities. Who isn’t your best friend if it isn’t your arch-nemesis? I KNOW I’ve helped so many. YET HERE YOU ARE! YOU RUINED EVERYTHING! You killed GOOD people. Now you will beg me for death. You will plead and cry and scream for me to end your suffering. See I’m actually very evil, just in a different way than most. You’ll see…I’ll give you a hint on my power. I can bend space-time.”

The Fool was just strolling around Terror at a normal pace while the Super Villain did everything he could just to move a little tiny bit.

“I could go into the complicated nature of everything, but I’ll say this. You won’t move unless I want you do. I’m ancient, and I know exactly what I’m doing. Still though, my power is more than gravity manipulation. I can make worm-holes at will. You might ask why that is important…well I can take pieces off of you without a blade in the most precise way possible. You’ll see…I’ll start with this…”

The Fool just looked to Terror and released the hold he had on him. The villain moved to stand up…there was an odd vacuum noise…and right as he was about to attack he fell down into a pile on the floor.

“You don’t regenerate you just can recover well. I just removed the part of your brain for motor function. You can’t talk, or move or even really change where your eyes look. I spent a great many years learning neuroscience just for moments like this. I didn’t want to mess up and kill someone on accident. Though Honestly I use the ability to remove tumors that are considered inoperable often. Though now…I get to play a little bit. Don’t worry…”

There were a few more of those vacuum sounds and with each one Terror was unable to do even more, until he was just sitting there, breathing…but fully unable to move at all. The fool then maneuvered him onto his back with the easy of a child playing with an action figure.

“You’ll never be able to respond, or blink, or cry or even raise your heart rate to more than just enough to keep you alive. I have successfully imprisoned you in your body. Since you don’t regenerate, well you cannot heal the damage. I can’t go back in time to bring back Fire and Wind…that does too many things to too many realms. Death is still a little upset at me for the last time I did it. At least they are with their son now, hopefully happy.”

Terror couldn’t respond, motionless his gaze stuck on the ceiling…he could do nothing but listen…fully aware of his surroundings.

“Also don’t worry, I put a little barrier around your mind too. Don’t think anyone will be able to talk to you with telepathy or some of them fancy dream reading machines. This will be your and my little secret. You’ll lament in some hospital as your body degenerates. Helpless…until you die and THEN I get to have fun with you. I just want you completely broken first.”

The Fool’s face went to a sad one from rage as he gathered the bodies of the heroes and set them next to each other. He even sobbed a little bit over them straightening their limbs so they could be found presentable. Then a call was made and he fabricated everything…no one would know. As Terror was taken away on a gurney…only The Fool knew how much he was screaming in his mind to be let go.

“They Deserve respect for what they have done,

Wind and Fire two great heroes are now gone,

With hope I wish their souls will fly

With a heavy heart I will say goodbye.”

The Fool said as their bodies were taken away…he didn’t even want the stupid dime anymore. He learned something though, and he’ll never be caught unaware again.

You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers, but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic supervillain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.

[postracehair]

fracture

max verstappen x reader | 3.5k

max breaks his wrist during the first week of the off-season.

cw: max breaks his arm, r is a bit rattled, some blood, a naked shower, intimacy, mentions of sex

a/n: c'mon. you know he'd be so annoying. good thing we love him. [i wrote this before the season ended and then...never posted it. so, here, have it before we start all this shit over again in a few weeks.]

__

You are not there when it happens.

You're asleep, actually, curled up on Max's couch with the cats while he enjoys the first week of the off-season. The celebrations have ended and there is a great deal of work to be done in the next few months, but everyone gets a little bit of respite.

Vacation will come after the holidays. That's the plan, anyway. The last few days have seen you in Monaco, mostly inside Max's place. Just spending time together, relaxing, watching movies, rumpling his sheets. Today, though, he and Danny decided to go on a world-class-athlete-level bike ride.

Which is why you're on the couch. They've been gone all day and you don't expect Max to get home until later. You ran errands, cleaned a little, and then took an afternoon nap.

As you rouse from it, you fumble for your phone to check the time. The screen lights up and you're greeted with --

35 texts. 4 missed calls.

"What the hell?" you mutter, sitting up and opening everything.

DR: sorry for the three calls don't freak out but i think max broke his arm

DR: he says you're probably napping but i'm going to document this for when you wake up

DR: he's fine but yeah that shit is fucked

DR: he says not to tell you he fell off his bike but he fell off his bike

DR: he braked for some animal in the road and went over his handlebars

DR: oh he also scraped his face but he's still pretty, don't worry

DR: his palms are fucked though which is why he's not texting you

DR: we're on the way to the hospital, btw

DR: you're gonna be so pissed when you wake up

It goes on like that. Daniel, to his credit, has given you a play-by-play of the whole situation. You've only been asleep for about an hour and based on the time stamps this started right after you fell asleep.

You get up as you read, grabbing your things and trying to find your shoes as you read. You need to -- you need to go and be wherever they are. You need to help. Heart racing, chest tight, you need to be near Max as soon as possible, even though Danny said he's okay. If this was you, Max would already be there. God, why did you take a nap?

According to the texts, they got to the hospital and he was seen immedietly, x-rayed, and bandaged up. Broken right wrist, Danny had said. He's pissed more than anything.

You're about to call him back when your phone rings in your hands.

"Danny," you say as soon as you accept it.

"Oh, thank fuck," Daniel exclaims. "I thought I was going to have to surprise you in person with the whole thing."

"I'm about to leave, just give me 15 minutes to get there--"

"No, no, no," he interrupts you. "He just got discharged. I'm bringing him home."

You stop in your tracks, one foot shoved halfway into your sneaker. "Really?"

"Yeah, we'll be there in like, 20 minutes?" You can hear Max saying something in the background. "He wants to talk to you," Danny sighs. "Mate, you'll see her soon--"

He's cut off and there's some muffled noises and then Max is saying your name.

"I'm fine," he says. "I only made him tell you so it wasn't a surprise when I came home."

"Max," you sigh, shoulders creeping away from your ears at the sound of his voice. "I'm so sorry, I was asleep!"

He laughs. You feel a bit weepy, which is both an overreaction and cathartic. "Good," he says. "The whole experience has been a pain in the ass."

"You're coming home now? Are you in pain?"

"Eh," he says, dragging out the sound. "They gave me something while they set it so I don't feel it much. Daniel says we'll be home soon. Oh, hold on --" There is some muttering, Danny's voice in the background. "Okay, I'm going to give you back. See you soon, liefje."

"Okay," you say softly.

"Be there in a flash!" Danny says brightly. "Seriously, don't worry."

You hang up and just stand in the hallway, at a loss. Something bad happened to Max and you weren't there. It feels wrong. Not that he's in poor hands with Danny -- quite the opposite. He's probably the only person aside from yourself that you'd want there for Max in a crisis. But, god. You wish you had been there.

The cats weave around your ankles as you pace, waiting for Danny to call or for the door to open or, anything at all to happen. Your mind is running a million miles a minute. Objectively, it's the best time for Max to break something. There isn't even a car for him to test right now and he had at least another week of time off before needing to go back to Milton Keynes. This might throw a wrench in your holiday plans but you couldn't care less about that. How long will he be in a cast? You assume he's in a cast. What kind of help will he need? Will you be enough to provide it? What if he --

Noises in the hall make you freeze and then you hear Danny's voice. You bolt to the door, unlatching the locks and pulling it open. You're greeted with the sight of the two of them -- Danny looking down at Max's keys in his hands, both of their backpacks on his back. They've both changed out of whatever ridiculous bike outfit they must have been wearing for the ride, but you devote your attention to your boyfriend.

You can see the bandages on Max's knees and forearms where he must have scraped himself up on the road. His wrist -- it's in a black cast that runs the length of his forearm. He cradles it to his chest in a sling they must have given him and then you make your way to his face. A few scratches along one cheek, hair a mess, mouth drawn into a frown. A frown that relaxes slightly when you meet his gaze. Your eyes well with tears.

"Max," you breathe. He steps in front of Danny and meets you in the doorway, his cast-free hand cupping your face through the bandages on his palm.

"I'm fine," he says. "You're looking at me like I'm in a coma."

"Sorry," you whisper. "I just --"

He tugs you to him gently, pressing your face into his neck and rubbing your back. You try to be careful of his arm as you breathe deep and will yourself not to actually lose it.

"Guys, can we at least go inside?" Danny asks.

Max huffs and you pull away. He drags his thumb under both of your eyes but doesn't comment on the dampness he finds there. "Inside, liefje."

Danny drops Max's stuff and passes along the documents from the hospital. He's quite the personality but he's all business when he needs to be. "Pain killers in his bag. Call me if you need anything, guys."

You step away from Max long enough to throw your arms around Danny. "Thank you," you whisper. "For looking after him." For calling. For bringing him back to me. For doing what I should have been there for.

He chuckles. "Alright," he says. "Max should break something more often."

Once Danny leaves, it's just the two of you. Max has settled on the couch, head leaning back into the cushions.

"Come sit with me," Max calls. "God, I forgot how much I hate hospitals."

His eyes are closed and he holds his arm gingerly. It's not the first time you've seen him injured -- you've been at his side in the medical tent before after watching him careen into a wall at 190mph. And yet, right now, you're still so upset.

You settle into the cushions on his left side and just watch him.

"I'm sorry," you say again. Max's eyes open. "I can't believe I was asleep when Danny called."

Max shakes his head. "What would you have done?"

"I could have come to get you and take you to the hospital, or just met you there, or--"

He puts his hand on your knee. "Come on," he says. "Don't be silly."

How do you explain it to him? How do you tell him that something happening to him feels like it happened to you? That not being there feels like a personal failing?

"Will you tell me what happened?"

He sighs and you pull his palm from your leg to hold it in your hands.

"It's stupid," he grimaces. "You don't need the details."

"Max."

He folds. Other people in his life have called this your superpower -- Max's will is iron clad. It is very difficult to get him to do something he does not want to do. But one word from you, one soft look, one gentle touch, and he often relents. It's like you can peel back that layer of him that has hardened out of necessity. To protect himself and his heart, to make sure he's taken seriously, to stop things from hurting.

It's like you remind him that it's okay to feel, even when it's hard.

"Daniel summed it up," he grumbles. "We were biking down a hill outside the city and something ran out into the road in front of me. I stopped. Or tried to, at least." He mimes squeezing the breaks, fingers curling in towards his bandaged palms. You stroke his unbroken wrist with your thumb.

"And you went over," you finish.

"And I went over. Got my knees, my forearms, my hands. My wrist, obviously. Just landed badly."

You reach for his face ever so gently, dragging the pad of your thumb over the shallow scrapes on his chin, his cheek. He allows it, knowing that you need to touch him to be sure he's okay. Whenever he has a crash on track you have trouble letting him out of your sight for hours. You just need to look at him, feel him warm and alive under your hands.

"I'm going to write a letter to your helmet manufacturer," you say, not entirely kidding. You slide your hand over his temple and into his hair. It's dirty, you can feel it, but you cradle his skull all the same. "Thank them."

He laughs once, amused with your sincerity. "I need to shower," he says. "But I can't get this wet." You finally direct your attention to his broken wrist, the entirety of his forearm and hand encased in the cast under the sling.

"Does it hurt?" you ask again. Max would tell anyone else off for badgering him so, but he keeps his face soft and reassures you.

"It's strange," he says. "I'm sure I'll feel it later."

"Did it hurt?" you whisper. "When you broke it?"

You know that Max has felt a great deal of pain in his life. His day job requires it -- physical, mental, emotional. He knows how to handle it and get over it. But he's also honest with you, always.

He wrinkles his nose. "It wasn't nice," he confesses. "I knew right away."

You grimace. In the silence, you match your breaths to his and just sit together for a little while.

And then Max's stomach growls.

"Whoops," he says, grinning crookedly. Still an athlete, still a boy with a fast metabolism. You can't help but laugh.

"How about this," you begin, unfolding yourself from the couch and standing in front of him, hands on your hips. Max looks up at you like you're the best thing he's ever seen. "I order some food and then we get you showered while we wait for it. Let the scrapes breathe and keep your cast dry, then we eat and watch a movie and go to bed. Okay?"

"We get me showered?" He sounds skeptical.

"You think you can wash your hair on your own?"

He smirks. "I can do a lot with one hand."

You roll your eyes. "So you're turning down an opportunity to shower with me, is what I'm hearing."

Max gets himself off the couch and rests his palm on your hip. "No," he says softly. "I'm not that stupid."

He kisses you lightly and heads for the bathroom.

"I guess we can wrap it in a plastic bag, or something?" you call after him. It takes a few minutes of opening and closing cabinets for you to find one. You put in a delivery order and make your way to the bathroom. Max has already turned on the shower and you find him shirtless and peeling off his bandages in in front of the mirror.

"Let me do that." He doesn't put up much of a fight, not even wincing when the tape pull at his skin. You see the gashes on his forearm, the raw skin of his palms. "Arm, please." The plastic bag goes around his cast and you tie it at his elbow.

"You planning to wash my hair while wearing your clothes?" Max asks with a straight face.

You stare at him, trying to seem unimpressed. He breaks first, mouth pulling up at one corner before he shucks off his soft shorts and briefs in one go. He pecks you on the cheek and gets in the shower, still smirking at you through the glass door.

"Alright, alright," you mutter. "So dramatic."

You feel Max's eyes on you as you undress, leaving your clothes on a pile on the floor.

The shower is unnecessarily big but Max does not give you much space. The hot spray is at his back and he keeps his plastic bag-clad arm mostly out of the way.

"Feel good?" you ask. Max sighs but nods. You'll bet he's aching but hasn't admitted it. He turns to the side so you can catch some of the spray, too, fighting off the chill outside the warm water.

"I might fall asleep in here," he mutters.

"That'll be the painkillers, darling," you tell him. "C'mon, get your hair wet."

Max tips his head back. You readjust so that you can card your hands through it. You shampoo him gently, taking your time and massaging his scalp. It's a miracle he stays on his feet, but he does. You hum as you work and Max's breaths get deeper, slower.

"Head back," you say softly. He obeys. You do the same with some of your conditioner because you know he likes how it smells.

This shower feels more intimate than the countless hours you've spend in his bed, tangled up in one another. He's been inside you and yet this feels more vulnerable. He's totally ceding control, trusting you to take care of him. You're naked, slick bodies brushing, always touching whether it's your hands in his hair or Max's own fingers reaching for your skin just to feel.

One time, when you were sick, you couldn't muster the energy to take a shower. Max ran you a bath and washed your hair for you, talking all the while because you asked to hear his voice. It's obvious that you'd do the same for him, as you're doing now. It's just how you love each other -- all the way, all the time. When it's easy and when it's hard.

"Danny was right," Max says, words slurring half from bliss and half the fatigue of the day catching up to him. "I should break bones more often."

You finish rinsing him and just stand there in the spray for a few moments.

"Please, no," you groan, brushing wet strands back from his forehead. "If you want me to wash your hair I will, Max. You don't need to break anything."

His eyes flutter open and find yours. He smiles lazily and you turn off the shower.

"If you say so," he says. "Can we take this off, now?"

Bag removed, skin patted dry, comifes on. The food comes when you're settling Max on the couch with a pillow for his arm. In all likelihood he'll manage a few bites of take out and fall asleep 15 minutes into the movie. But he needs the rest, you think. And besides, he'll have you to watch over him.

__

It becomes clear remarkably quickly that Max is an awful patient. You sort of knew this -- he's been sick a few times when you're around, but you figured that was just man-disease. Whining, refusing to sit still. This is 10x worse. He won't let you do anything for him until he's proven that he can't do it himself. You consider locking him in your bedroom to keep him from trying to do things he shouldn't do.

Max just wasn't made to sit still.

But you can empathize -- it's frustrating to not be able to do any of the things he really likes to do. Drive, use his sim, even play regular video games. It's a lot of movies and long walks and leg days with his trainer.

And then there's the way he just won't ask for help. That's a Max Verstappen original and you know it gets worse when he's frustrated. You do it too -- everyone does. But Max wants to do everything himself, wants to prove that he can.

You try to sit back and let him work it out. About a week after he comes home with his arm in a cast, he calls your name. You're in the kitchen, staring into the open fridge and wondering if you should order more groceries or just go to the shops yourself.

"You okay?" you call back. "Where are you?"

"Bathroom,"he shouts.

Ah, you think. Here we go.

He hasn't shaved yet. You've always loved when he keeps his facial hair a little longer. You love the feel of it on your skin and how it lightens along with his hair when you're on holiday somewhere nice. It's more likely that he keep it long in the off-season. Hot races are a nightmare with a beard, he's said. It itches like mad.

"Coming," you call.

Sure enough, you find him in front of the sink, razor in hand and frown firmly in place. He makes eye contact with you in the mirror and even though you can feel his annoyance from here, the set of his jaw softens.

"Do you think you could help me shave?" he asks. No lead up, no hem and haw.

"Of course, Max."

You quickly work out that sitting on the counter next to the sink while he stands between your knees works best. His broken wrist hangs at his side, the other hand resting on the counter next to your leg.

You lather him up, carefully applying the white foam of his shaving cream on his cheeks, his chin, his neck. He's got a fancy razor, one that will probably make it hard to cut him. Still, you feel the way he's basically handed you a blade and asked you to use it on him. In so many ways it's one of the most intimate things you've ever done. Even more than the showers you've had this week, just chatting and washing his hair.

"I'll be careful," you say softly.

"I know." He tilts his chin up, showing you his neck. "Go on, then."

It's quiet work. You're focusing hard and Max seems content to allow you. Stroke after stroke, rinsing the razor in the sink. You keep one hand at the base of this throat as the other works, gliding it over his skin. Cheeks, jaw, upper lip. Chin, neck.

"I like your beard, you know," you say when you're almost done. He waits until you're rinsing the razor again to reply.

"I do," he says, smirking. "You aren't quiet about it."

The last patch comes off as easily as the rest and you grab a damp towel to clean the rest of the shaving cream. Max appears to have relaxed enough to become pliant, leaning into your touch as you finish. He lets you rub moisturizer into his cheeks, eyes fluttering closed. His hand ends up on your leg, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thigh.

"Cheeky," you mutter. He smiles, boyish and easy. You take your time, pleased that he's letting you, but also because you could touch him forever. "Schatje," you whisper, trying to make it sound like it does from his lips. "All done."

Max doesn't move. You frame his face with your hands and lean in until your lips touch. You feel his smile against yours, but he dutifully tilts his head to deepen the kiss. His freshly shaved skin is so soft. You've kissed thousands of times by now, but you can never get enough of him. The way he responds to your every move, meeting your pressure with some of his own. Your tongue with his, swallowing your moans and giving you his own like a gift.

It's Max who pulls away, dragging his lips over your cheek.

"Dankje," he whispers. It means more than that, you know. From Max, it means thank you for dealing with me, for taking care of me, for loving me.

He doesn't think any of that is easy for you. But he's wrong. It's the easiest thing in the world.

[littelovelunette]

Sticker On Her Forehead

Dim lanterns cast flickering shadows on Sevika's sleeping figure. You were bored, and had been scrolling on your phone for a while.

You held your breath, creeping forward with the stealth of a well-trained rogue—though, to be fair, your mission wasn’t exactly life or death.

It was, however, a matter of pride.

Sevika was asleep, sprawled out in her usual chair. Her breathing was deep and steady, the slow rise and fall of her chest signaling that she was well and truly out cold.

Her mechanic arm hung over the armrest of the chair, chin resting on her flesh hand as she dozed off. Her snores weren't as loud as usual, it was light when she napped but the moment her back hit the bed, she'd be snoring like a bear.

You had never seen her sleep before. You both were in a relatively new relationship, she always seemed too alert, too sharp, like she never truly let her guard down. But now, exhaustion had finally won, and you had the rarest opportunity of all.

In your hand was your secret weapon: a pastel colored sticker of a little pink bunny, ears floppy, eyes big and sparkly. It was obnoxiously cute—exactly the opposite of everything Sevika embodied.

You hesitated for only a moment.

Was this suicidal? Probably.

Would it be worth it? Absolutely.

Carefully, you peeled the back off the sticker, leaning in just enough to place it dead center on her forehead.

Your fingers moved with precision, gently pressing it into place. The contrast was immediate and hilarious—the hardened enforcer of Zaun, the right hand of Silco, now marked with an adorable pastel bunny on her forehead.

A breath of laughter almost escaped you, but you swallowed it down. The mission wasn’t complete yet. You needed to get out before—

Sevika’s nose twitched. Her brows furrowed slightly, but she didn’t wake. You took a slow step back, your pulse hammering in your ears. Another step. Almost there—

Then the metal fingers of her prosthetic twitched, and her organic hand shot out, catching your wrist in a vice-like grip.

Shit.

Her eyelids cracked open, and she exhaled a low, tired groan. “…The hell are you doing?” Her sharp grey eyes scrutinized your expression.

You froze, mind racing for an excuse. Nothing. There was nothing that could justify this.

You giggled nervously.

Her eyes, still heavy with sleep, locked onto yours. And then she frowned. The moment she lifted her hand to rub her forehead, you knew you had mere seconds before—

Pause.

Her fingertips brushed against the sticker. You watched, wide-eyed, as realization dawned in slow motion.

She peeled it off. Looked at it. Blinked.

The silence was suffocating.

And then—

“…You’re dead.”

You bolted.

Laughter burst from your throat as you ran through the house, the sound of a chair scraping violently against the floor signaling that Sevika was up and coming for blood.

You barely made it past the main hall before you heard her boots pounding behind you, her voice a lethal growl.

“You think this is funny?!”

“Yes!” you cackled, dodging around a table.

Sevika was fast. Too fast. It was sheer luck that you managed to duck away before she could grab the back of your shirt.

You swerved happily navigating your way in the house, laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

Then, suddenly, a mechanical arm caught you by the collar and yanked you backward.

Your feet barely touched the ground as Sevika hauled you up with terrifying ease, her face dangerously close to yours.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't break your damn fingers."

You grinned, breathless. "Because then I wouldn’t be able to put more stickers on you?"

Sevika stared. Her grip tightened.

And then—

A long, exasperated sigh.

She dropped you, shaking her head as if questioning every life decision that had led to this moment. “I swear to god, you’re worse than Jinx.”

"That means you love me, right?"

"Shut up."

She turned to leave—but not before slapping the bunny sticker onto your forehead.

"Checkmate."

[reids-princess]

۶ৎ She said yes Spencer Reid

Hold onto This for me .

⤷ ─────In which The moment “Spencer.” gets back to you, he wasn’t going to let anything—not work, not fear, not uncertainty—stand in the way of his future with you.

The ring took forever to find on Pinterest but it’s so pretty in what I imagine for elegant look . 

I hope you enjoyed this as much as the last one please consider re blogging in liking your motivation keeps me going . 

Fiancé!Spencer Reid x fem!reader (fiancé) 1.5K x cute comfort overwhelmed moments anxiety fluff x Author notes I had fun writing this one I enjoyed writing it hope you like reading it

Flashback

Some girls may adore diamonds, but Spencer knew you preferred pearls. Choosing the perfect ring wasn't easy for him.

He visited a few different stores, searching for something that would suit you—a ring that reflected your personality,’ elegant, sweet, loving, and caring.

He thought about how your face would light up when he asked you to be his, how overjoyed he would be to call you his wife. It was about finding something as beautiful as you were.

Then he found it. It was at the last store he visited. He pointed it out in a glass display case, surrounded by a few other rings.

He told the jeweler that was the one he wanted. Spencer could already picture how your face would light up when he proposed. He could see that ring on your tiny hand. Your hands were smaller than his, but to him, they were perfect.

Now ⤷ ───── "Your" POV.

You couldn’t believe that just over an hour ago, you saw Spence pull out the velvet box from his cardigan pocket. Inside it was the ring, resting in the palm of your hand, your heart racing. You wanted to say yes, but he left before hearing your answer.

The ring was beautiful, sitting in the palm of your hand. You couldn’t believe Spencer had proposed to you. You had wanted him to for a while, and you had always imagined it in your head—his mom would be there, your mom, your twin brother and sister, and their families.

He would be down on one knee, asking for your hand. Tonight, though, tonight was just as perfect—the two of you alone, before Hotch called him in for another case.

Your phone rang, breaking through the whirlwind of your thoughts. Reaching for it, you saw it was Hotch. Wait, what's going on? You answered quickly, your heart racing.

"Hotch, is everything okay?" you asked, trying to steady your voice.

"I... I can't explain right now," Hotch said, his tone firm but not without concern. "Just come down to the BAU. Please."

"Hotch, please, tell me everything is okay," you pleaded, your pulse quickening. But before you could say more, the line went dead. He’d hung up.

Hotch had known about Spencer's proposal and that he hadn’t gotten his answer. So, with his usual practicality, Hotch thought it would be best if you came down to the BAU headquarters to give Spencer your answer—whatever that answer may be.

You slid the ring onto your left hand, your fingers trembling as you grabbed your jacket, keys, and purse. Panic was starting to creep in. What if I lose him? No.

You couldn’t think like that. He’s fine, he’s gotta be. It’s Spencer, you reminded yourself, trying to steady your breathing.

As you rushed out the door, your mind raced, a knot forming in your stomach. I can't lose him… I can’t lose him now.

You slid into the driver’s side of the SUV, quickly buckling up. You adjusted your seat, trying to make yourself comfortable. Being short definitely didn’t have its advantages when it came to driving, but you couldn’t focus on that right now. Your mind was elsewhere, racing with thoughts of Spencer, and you had to get to him.

You started the engine and headed down the two streets from yours and Spencer’s shared apartment. Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as your mind raced, each moment feeling heavier than the last.

When you finally came to a stop and turned into the parking lot of the BAU headquarters, your heart was pounding. You took a deep breath before stepping out of the SUV, trying to steady yourself.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you walked into the building, startling you for a moment. You quickly pulled it out,

seeing a message from Garcia.’

"Lover boy proposed to you? And left without getting the answer? So, what are you gonna say?"

The words hit you like a wave, and for a second, you froze in place. You knew Garcia’s playful tone, but the weight of her message only deepened the anxiety already churning inside you.

You walked into the building, your nerves flaring with each step. The officer at the front desk gave you a warm smile when you showed your visitor’s pass. "You’re here to see Dr. Spencer Reid, right?" he asked, already knowing the answer. It felt surreal, but you nodded, showing him your visitors pass , your heart both racing and aching at the thought of him.

You walked into the elevator, your hands trembling as you pressed the button for Level 6. Your heart raced. I just need to know he’s okay. Once I know he’s alright, I’ll say yes, you thought to yourself, trying to calm your nerves. The elevator felt like it was moving slower than usual, and every second felt like a lifetime.

When the doors finally opened, you stepped out into the bullpen. The BAU team was gathered around Spencer, and his eyes immediately found yours. As soon as you walked in, his gaze locked onto you, never leaving.

"Spence, you’re okay?" You said, your voice shaky as you looked at him, trying to make sense of everything.

You stepped into the bullpen, your eyes immediately finding Hotch. "Hotch called me," you explained, your heart still racing. "He asked me to come down to the BAU…

Spencer stepped toward you, his expression full of regret. "I should’ve waited," he said, his voice thick with frustration. "I should’ve stayed to hear your answer. It’s been driving me crazy." His eyes were filled with a mixture of guilt and longing, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

You could see it in his face—he wasn’t just worried about the proposal. He was worried about you and the uncertainty that had built between you both in the last hour. His vulnerability was something he rarely showed, and it only made your heart ache.

He pulled you in and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close. "Spence," you murmured, feeling a little bashful under his gaze. "They’re,” watching me, aren't they?”

He smiled softly, his eyes warm with affection. "Are you gonna leave lover boy hanging?" Derek chimed in from across the room, his teasing tone light, but you could feel the warmth in his words.

You giggled softly, a sound Spencer adored. He couldn’t help but smile even wider, his heart swelling at the sound of your laughter. It was one of the little things that meant the world to him. You looked up at him shyly, but his gaze was soft, full of love and patience.

You slowly showed Spencer your hand, the ring now resting delicately on your finger—the same ring he had proposed with. The weight of the moment hit you, and your heart swelled.

"Does this mean it's a yes?" Garcia chimed in from behind, her voice full of excitement and a hint of teasing.

You smiled, your chest tightening with joy and relief. "Yes," you replied, your voice soft but steady. "I will marry you, Dr. Spencer Reid."

Spencer’s face lit up with pure happiness, and before you could even take another breath, he swept you into his arms. He spun you around, your laughter echoing through the room, before gently dropping you to his waist, holding you tight. Without another word, he kissed you, his lips pressing against yours with all the passion, love, and relief that had built up between the two of you.

I may do a part three .. as a request I did part two I hope it lives up to your expectations.

[vintagebueckers]

   ꒰       ࣪˖𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ─  𝓟𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐅 , lamelo ball    .ᐟ  .ᐣ       ꒱

★ he needed to be nothing like your ex and everything your parents hated. he needed to be loud, flashy, heavily tattooed, and slight obnoxious. everything your ex boyfriend wasn't, just to spite your ex for cheating on you with some no name bitch at a party and your parents for constantly pushing you to date there friends insufferable children. they were all the same, insecure, shallow and boring. sure you would go along with it for your parents sake, but there was only so much jealousy and fragile male ego you could take before you had enough.

★ and today was that day. this wasn't by any mean's a premeditated plan of action. no quite the opposite, it was a spur of the moment decision that was born from boredom and a result of retail therapy on you ex's card (which he didn't know was missing) failing to lift your spirits. that's when you decided date someone you knew would get a rise out of both your ex boyfriend and parents, kill two birds with one stone.

★ someone so outlandish and removed from the safe cookie cutter rich boy's you were use to having on your arm, and someone who could both give your mother a heart attack and make your ex spiral with jealousy before the weeks end. it was a masterstroke of genuine, and to be honest you should have though about doing this sooner. it was genius, all you had to do was go on a date have the paparazzi snap a few pictures and boom everyone who you wanted to be pissed of would be that and then some in a matter of seconds.

★ your friend had set this up for you, her text stating that she had found the perfect person for your devious plan and send you the link to a reservation at you favourite new york restaurant with a hundred percent guarantee of paparazzi being present. guaranteeing your face would be all over the front page by nine o' clock tomorrow, though your friend wouldn't say who would be waiting for you at the restaurant. and though you would never admit it.

★ the idea of not knowing who you were meeting in advance made you nervous, as while you did want to piss of as many people as humanly possible in twenty four hours. what if this went horribly wrong? you mulled it over during the two hours you took to get ready, as you picked out your best outfit, applying a light face of make-up but with a sharp eye as to not look to plain, giving yourself a simple yet effortless hairstyle to tie it all together. before adding the final finishing touches, simple yet elegant jewellery and perfume. and by the time you were done, your driver was waiting to whisk you away.

★ which means it was to late to turn back now. any trace of uncertainty you had the moment you stepped out of the car, game faces only. but nothing could have prepared you for the shock of who was at the table. lamelo ball, your ex's favourite basketball player someone who he would yack on about for hours at a time to the point it had become white noise. a smile tugged at your lips as you walked to the table "this seat taken?" you asked knowing full well what the answer would be. "nah, all your ma." he said standing up to pull out her chair "you come here often, or am I just lucky tonight?" oh now this was going to be fun "show me a good time and you'll find out handsome"

all rights reserved, ©vintagebueckers.

[lavandulawrites]

Blackout

Zayne x reader

Zayne is truly chef’s kiss. I think he can make the quite scary yandere, given the opportunity. This was originally planned to be longer, but I didn’t have any motivation to make it so:,) Anyways, if anyone wants a part two, let me know!<3

Masterlist

Warnings: yandere, imprisoned reader, Zayne is utterly lovesick, obsession, overprotectiveness, possessiveness

The living room of the remote cabin was laid in darkness. The only source of light was from the lit hearth, that slowly but surly warmed the room up. Outside of the windows consisted only of the black night and tiny snow crystals that seared slowly down from the endless sky. The moon and the stars were all hidden behind thick dark clouds, leaving the sky empty and cold.

To your right on an old arm chair, sat Zayne. Instead of his usual trusted stethoscope around his neck, a thick marine blue wooden scarf were wrapped around his neck. His eyes was fixed on you as they seemingly tried to prod through your mind.

You were leaned against the sofa cushions as you gazed into the flames. You were cold, awfully so, but you did not want to make that obvious to the man seated beside you. So, you tried your best at remaining neutral in your expression.

The power had gone out after the blizzard. Now the storm was gone, but the electricity was no where to be seen. The warmth from the heaters had disappeared with the lights. You both had been sitting in front of the fire for a few hours. Zayne’s mobile phone was currently not working, and you hadn’t seen your phone in a long time.

The black haired man shifted in his seat which caused your eyes to follow his movements slightly without moving your head. The situation was unfortunate and it had soured your mood even further. A slight grimace was present on your lips as your gaze returned to the unruly flames. If only your irritation could warm you up, you thought bitterly.

Zayne inhaled suddenly, which broke the tense silence. “This situation is truly unfortunate. Hopefully the power will be back soon. If not” he sighed “I would have to drive in to town and get an electrician. If we are lucky, the phone will start working soon. Though that seems unlikely as of now…”. He raked his hand through his hair in a deflated manner. You could almost hear how his mind was racing with possible solutions.

Your whole predicament would have been better if the highly respected doctor hadn’t deemed the world too dangerous for you. He had been planning for months (that much had been made clear to you after a good while), and he had put his high intellect to good use. It was after all a reason as to why he was the best surgeon of the country, his mind was quick and it contained seemingly endless information.

He had been your trusted primary care physician for a good while. He was kind and you trusted him fully. When he started to become more and more prying about your private life, you didn’t question him. Not even once. Now you had come to regret it deeply as he had you hidden away from the world.

Zayne sighed. He rose to his feet and took a seat beside you on the sofa. He pulled a thick blue blanket around the both of you as he leaned your head on his shoulder. He kissed the crown of your head gently. “I love you [Name]. Don’t forget that… This is all for the best of you. Please trust me” his voice was soft and laced with hurt and honesty.

The flames pulled you in hypnotically as you stared into them. The warmth from the man beside you felt unnatural as his grip on your shoulder tightened. His façade had began to crack and the beast that was well hidden inside the deepest depths of his soul was starting to show.

[tetragonia]

A Functional Family

Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader

summary: Gojo took you and 9 year-old Megumi to a restaurant down the road. It was the closest you all had to a functional family.

notes: fluff/angst? Megumi is a smol bean, younger!Gojo, and all that

words: 600+

It was a rare evening off, and the three of you found yourselves at a small, cozy restaurant tucked in the corner of a quiet street in Tokyo.

The neon lights outside flickered as you sat down at a corner booth, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

Gojo, ever the curious one, was leaning over the menu like it was a life-or-death decision. He didn't seem to notice how Megumi was absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the table, eyes focused more on you than the menu itself. You already decided what to eat just from a glance. You almost finished the novel you brought, knowing that this would be another long day with Gojo.

"Just pick something already," you said lightly, not even looking up from your book.

"Give me a second, (Y/N)! This is crucial," Gojo replied, flashing his usual mischievous grin. "I need the perfect dish to accompany our evening. Can't just settle for anything."

You rolled your eyes, knowing full well he’d pick something without a second thought once he made his decision. Megumi, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally broke his silence.

"Do you two always get along like this?" Megumi asked, his voice quiet but amused.

You looked at him, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You were just introduced to Megumi a couple months ago, but you already knew that this kid was way too mature for his age. Too perceptive as well sometimes.

"What do you mean, Megumi-chan? Can’t you tell? We’re the perfect team."

Gojo raised an eyebrow at you, "I dunno, (Y/N). You seem a little too relaxed around me for someone who constantly gets annoyed by my antics."

You chuckled softly.

"The more I get used to you, the less I care about your nonsense. But don’t get comfortable—I know when to reel you in," you winked at Megumi, who now had a knowing smile on his face.

"I don’t think I've ever seen this side of you, (Y/N)," Megumi said, voice just a little quieter, his gaze soft. "You were always serious and hardworking."

You paused, realizing how much you had come to rely on their company, the warmth you hadn’t realized you craved. You reached out to ruffle Megumi’s hair, her touch light but affectionate.

"That's 'Onee-san' to you, Megumi-chan," she teased.

Gojo snorted from across the table, "Hey, that’s my line. I'm the one who's been his big brother, not you!"

You raised an eyebrow.

"Sure, Toru, but I'm the one he respects the most," youw voice was playful, but there was something softer in her eyes when she looked at Megumi.

Megumi didn’t argue, though the blush on his face betrayed the warmth he felt in that moment. He might even want to ask Gojo if Tsumiki could join them too one day...

Suddenly, the elderly woman serving them came by and paused to smile at the sight of you three.

"Aah, what a happy family you are," she said with a grin, her eyes twinkling as she looked at the three of you, pausing on Megumi. “He looks like you, Ma’am.”

Gojo choked on his drink, you coughed, and Megumi blinked, clearly caught off guard by the comment.

You, trying to regain her composure, cleared your throat, "Oh, I—"

Gojo, ever the one to make a scene, put a hand over his heart dramatically, "I know, right? I'm just so proud of my family."

You shot him a glare while the nice old lady smiled and went back to the kitchen.

"Satoru, you're the last person I want to hear that from. And do I look that old for people to assume that I’m Megumi-chan’s mother? Oh, no.”

But despite the teasing, there was a warmth in your voice as you spoke, an unspoken acknowledgment of the bond they had. Even Megumi, his face still flushed, couldn’t help but smile softly.

It was moments like this—small, unexpected, and full of unspoken connection—that made the chaos of their lives worth it. A family, even if it was one of their own making.

[starrseeker]

Sweet Smoke

Drug dealer!azriel. Modern AU. Fem! reader

Warnings: Drug useage. Drug dealer Azriel. Smut. Fingering. Oral F! Rec. praise kink. Dirty talk. slight degradation at the end. unprotected sex (wrap it up people). Explicit language. Not proofread.

A/N: I've had this idea for a while. Az just seems like he'd be a lowkey dealer tbh, atleast in my head. I haven't wrote smut in a while so hopefully it's not terrible. Please let me know if i missed any warnings, I did my best to include them all. Enjoy!

Why I had agreed to Tara bringing me to this party, I've got no fucking idea. She always knows how to get me to agree to shit last minute. The loud bass was beginning to hurt my ears as I tried squeezing past drunken idiots and people who really needed to find a room.

Finally I found a door that led outside. Stepping out onto the wooden porch, I pulled out the spliff I rolled before leaving the house. Exhaling the sweet smoke as I closed my eyes. Enjoying the break from people as I stood in the night breeze.

I'd lost track of where Tara went an hour ago. After a long hard day at work, I wasn't in the mood to babysit. I took another hit as I gazed up towards the stars. Night time was always my favorite. Especially when the moon was full and at its highest peak.

A cough startled me. I turned to my right, finding a man sitting on one of the lounge chairs. "Shit, sorry. Didn't realize someone else was out here." I lifted my shoe, ready to put out the ember on the sole. I hated leaving my ash on people's property. The velvety voice that spoke had me pausing,

"Nah, you're fine. I was getting ready to do the same. Care to join?" He offered as he had a fresh joint twirling in his hands. My eyes caught on the rugged scars that marred them. I averted my gaze quickly, holding up the burning substance between my fingers.

"I'll match you?" I offered. The stranger smirked at me before jutting his head towards the chair next to him. I took a puff as I walked over, settling in the chair. I handed him the spliff, his fingers just barely brushing against mine.

"Azriel" He said before inhaling a considerate drag. Glancing at me sideways.

"Y/N" I replied as I leaned my head back against the chair.

"Pretty name." He complimented as he handed it back. Smoke escaping his mouth as he spoke. The sight was one to behold. Even shrouded in the shadows, I could still make out dark soft curls. A glimpse of the tattoos that probably went up his arm whenever he reached over.

"You don't seem like you're interested in being here." He commented as I took another pull. I blew the smoke out before answering.

"Not particularly. Somehow my best friend managed to convince me though. No clue where she went though." I shrugged. Taking another drag before putting out the small roach that was left. I pocketed it, I hated wasting weed.

Azriel pulled out the joint that he stuck behind his ear. The flick of his lighter filling the air, the low glow of the flame lighting up his features. He was handsome. The light only giving his features an otherworldly glow. He exhaled once the joint was lit. It really shouldn't be so attractive for someone to smoke.

I took it from him when he offered. His eyes were hazy, heavy, red rimmed when he looked at me. The sight filled my mind with sinful thoughts before I shoved them away.

"So what brings you here then? Not many people come to a party just to sit outside by themselves." He chuckled at my question.

"Good thing I'm not technically alone then." He teased, i rolled my eyes playfully. He shrugged slightly. "Had a few deals here tonight. Parties are good money." My eyes widened slightly.

"So you're a dealer." I stated as I took a drag. My mind was already becoming clouded by the sweet smoke.

"That I am, princess." I could make out a faint grin tugging the corner of his mouth. His tongue darting out to wet his lips. Cotton mouth, it was the worst.

I handed him the joint. "I'm good on that." I muttered as I sank into the chair. I didn't want to get too faded. Especially with not knowing where Tara was. I'd probably be walking home.

My phone dinged from an incoming message. Speak of the devil.

"Heyyyyy. I'm going home with some hottie. Don't wait up."

I let out an annoyed huff. Of course she'd leave me here. I responded back with a simple okay before standing up. Brushing my pants from any lingering ash that may have fell on me.

"Well thanks for including me in your circle but I better get home. Gotta work in the morning." I was already dreading the walk back to my apartment. It was easily a twenty minute walk.

He raised a brow at me. "So soon huh? Need to take your friend home?"

"No. She actually left already. Something bout meeting a guy." I shrugged. "Anyways, I gotta go. Its a considerate walk."

He shook his head, standing. "Let me take you home. No reason for you to be walking in the dark at eleven at night. Just asking for problems." I opened my mouth to protest.

"Don't even. Lets go." He was already opening the door to walk back through the party. I let the argument die in my throat as I followed him. We didn't speak to anyone on the way out thankfully. Tara always took twenty minutes to tell everyone bye and I despised it. When I was ready to go, I was ready to go.

I was two steps behind him as we exited the house. He approached his car, opening the door for me. I slid into the leather seats as he shut the door. Leather and the lingering smell of his cologne hit me. It was oddly...comforting.

He slid into the driver seat before handing me his phone to type in my address. The engine turned over, the soft purr of it reverberating in my chest before he shifted into gear and drove off.

"So, you know my job. well my side business anyway." The side of his mouth twitched in a smirk. "What is it you do?"

My hands rubbed together, a nervous habit I had. "Uh, I work at a dealership. Parts specifically."

I could feel him look at me in the peripheral view. "Huh. Would not have guessed that one."

"Well if dealing is your side gig, whats your main one?" I shot back. Heat rushing to my cheeks for some odd reason.

"Tattooing." He stated plainly. I looked at him, my eyes roaming over him. Yeah, I guess I could see that.

He turned down my road. My apartment complex coming into view. A small part of me was disappointed our time had come to an end. Knowing my luck, I wouldn't see him again either.

He stopped infront of my building. "Thanks for the ride, and smoking with me." I said quietly before reaching for the door.

"Wait." His voice had me pausing. His hand was outstretched. "Let me give you my number." I debated it for a second before handing him my phone. He quickly typed before handing it back. "If you ever need grass, or maybe a smoke session, just send me a text. I'm free most of the time unless I've got an appointment set up."

I nodded before opening my door. "Thank you again, Azriel. I'll uh see you around." He gave me that smirk that made my heart flutter.

"Yes. you will."

I shut the door and watched him drive off. A small smile etched itself on my face and didn't leave even after I fell asleep.

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

A couple of days had passed since the party. I still had yet to text Azriel. I wasn't sure what to even say. Writing and deleting messages over and over until I'd eventually give up.

Until one day when I came home from work. I'd set my bag down on the kitchen island with a sigh. Pulling my hair out from updo I threw it in, in a hurry to get to work. Walking into my room to grab my rolling tray when I realized I was out of flower.

I let out a frustrated groan. Rubbing my hands over my face in irritation before sucking in a breath. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, finding his contact and hitting text messages.

Anxiety swirled in my gut as I typed.

"Hey, it's Y/N. Mind helping a girl out with some flower? I got cash."

My thumb hovered over the send button. Contemplating on whether this was a good idea or not. I hit the blue button before I could back out. Throwing my phone on the bed before standing to grab a change of clothes. After the day I'd had, I wanted a hot shower.

I stepped out of the steaming bathroom when I was done. Already feeling ten times better than before. Throwing on a oversized tshirt and spandez shorts. I grabbed my phone, a message from 5 minutes ago showing on my screen.

"Be over in 20."

It was simple and straight to the point. My eyes widened suddenly. Shit. I had 15 minutes before he was here. I scurried around my apartment. Double checking that everything was tidy and neat. My hands were clammy as the nervousness came back tenfold. Why was I acting like a teenage girl seeing her crush? I heard my phone ding again.

"Here."

My thumbs moved with lightning speed.

"Unit 101. Door's open."

I let out a breath, hoping to calm my fraying nerves. A knock sounded on my door shortly after. "It's open!" I called from the kitchen, trying to find anything to busy myself.

I grabbed a glass of water before turning around. I damn near dropped it. He seemed taller than I remembered. He shrugged his leather jacket off. His black t-shirt fit snuggly on his chiseled body. The muscles in his arm seemed to make the fabric stretch more than it could handle. Dark jeans and boots to match. I was right when I wondered if he had tattoos up his arms. Swirls of dark ink contrasted against his golden brow skin. An eyebrow piercing I somehow missed adorned his left brow. He looked absolutely delicious.

His deep voice drew me out of my thoughts. "Hey."

"Hey." I replied. Watching as he took in my apartment. It wasn't much. Simple couch with the coffee table. Small tv mounted on the wall. Pictures hung sporadically.

"Nice place. Just you here?" He questioned as he met my stare. It felt like the air had been sucked out of my lungs.

"Yeah. Not particuarly into the thought of sharing my space with someone." I shrugged, feigning calmness. "You want anything to drink? I got water, tea, coffee, liqour?"

"Water's fine. Thanks." Azriel shifted on his feet before walking into the kitchen with me. Standing on the opposite side of the island, his toned forearms leaning against the surface.

I slid the glass over to him, ice clinking against the sides.

"So, how much are you wanting?" Azriel asked after taking a sip. I'd almost forgotten why he was here til then.

"Oh. An eigth would be fine. I can normally stretch it two weeks unless i have a terrible day." I reached for my purse, grabbing my wallet.

"Don't worry about it." He told me as he pulled a bag out of his pocket. "Consider it a first time buyer discount." That damned smirk pulled on his lips as he looked at me.

My brow furrowed slightly. "You sure?" It seemed wrong to not pay him, especially after he gave me a ride home a few nights ago. His shoiulders lifted into a shrug.

"Yeah. As long as you're willing to indulge me in a smoke session?" Azriel flashed me a smile then. My knees almost gave out right then and there.

"Oh, yeah. I can do that." A smile of my own appeared. I tilted my head towards the back patio door. "Go ahead. I'll grab my rolling tray and be right out." I scurried to my room. My mind racing with so many questions and thoughts. Was this a good idea?

The night air eased some of my nerves as I stepped out on the patio. Setting the tray down on the small table I had before lighting the citrus candle in the center.

Azriel grabbed the tray off, setting it in his lap as he started grinding flower up. I couldn't help but watch. His fingers prepping the paper before spreading out the flower. The motion was hotter than it should be. He brought it up to his mouth, darting his tongue along the seam. His eyes met mine as he did so and I thought my heart would stop right there.

I averted my gaze quickly, hoping the shadows hid the blush that covered my cheeks. Heat building in my lower gut. I heard the flick of the lighter once, twice before the flame came to life. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him sealing the seam.

"You're awfully quiet over there." His voice startled me slightly.

"Just thinking is all. I get into my head a lot." The air between us felt tense. Charged with something I couldn't put my finger on.

He sparked the joint to life. That musky sweet smoke hitting my nose. He took a drag before passing it to me. Our fingers brushed as I took it from him. The action making that heat return to me.

"Bad day at work?" I could feel his eyes on me as he asked. Taking a couple drags before nodding my head. Bad didn't even cover it. I passed the rolled flower back to him.

"That's an understatement. Sometimes I wish I'd never gone into the auto industry. Too many entitled assholes, people love to argue with me over things cause I'm a woman so that immediatley make me incompetant." A scoff left me at the memory of today. An older gentleman wanted to prove I was wrong until my manager had stepped in. The customer had quickly shut up when he realized I was right.

Azriel let out a hum of agreement. "Men love to tear a woman down whenever they can. I see it far too often to one of the girls at the tattoo shop. Most of the time we throw them out." Smoke escaped with each word he spoke.

Those amber eyes met mine then. "If I was your manager though, I probably would've socked the guy in his mouth."

His confession made me flush. He reached over to hand me the joint once again. My mind was already beginning to feel it, my eyelids becoming heavy and tingling. My breath caught when his touch lingered on my fingers for an extra second. His eyes never once straying from me. I took two puffs to calm down my erratic heart rate. The substance was almost burnt to the filter. I handed it back to him.

He used the ashtray to put it out. Leaving it on the side of the glass bowl. We sat in silence for a moment. Enjoying the calmness of the night as the candle casted a warm glow over us.

"Y/N?" He broke the silence.

"Hmm?" My eyes were heavy, and my mind was fuzzy.

"Mind if I go in and grab my water?" I turned my head to gaze at him.

"No, actually I'll go with you to get mine too."

We stood from the chairs. I blew the candle out before walking in with him. Suddenly feeling exposed in my shirt and shorts as I walked in front of him. Almost as if I could feel his eyes roaming over me.

The low lighting of the kitchen caught on his eyebrow piercing, catching my attention. He eyed me over the rim of his glass before taking a sip. I felt hot, extremely hot. Maybe it was the grass. Yeah It had to have been the grass. Definitely not the way his eyes roamed over my bare skin.

I took a sip of my water. The liquid doing nothing to satiate the heat building under my skin. I watched his adams apple move as he swallowed. Wondering how it would feel to skim my lips over it. Nipping at that golden skin with my teeth.

"See something you like Princess?" His eyes held amusement, catching me staring at him. My cheeks reddened at the pet name he'd used before.

"Oh I- uh." I stammered, unsure of what to say.

He chuckled lowly at my stumbling. "You know, I spent all four days after the party wondering when you'd grace me with a message." His bloodshot amber eyes met mine. Darkening when he saw the redness of my cheeks. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. I couldn't stop myself from looking. Wondering how that tongue would move against me.

"Imagine my delight when you needed me. Though I can't lie, I was hoping it was for more than tree." He stepped around the island, coming up behind me. His hands grasped the edge of the island on either side of me, caging me in. I could feel the heat of him on my back. The hair on my neck standing up when his warm breath hit my skin.

"Tell me princess," His lips brushed against the shell of my ear, sending a chill down through my spine. "Is that all you wanted? Just some flower?"

I couldn't control the way my body instinctively leaned into him. My back hitting his chest. My eyes fluttering at the low octave of his voice. Desire building low in my belly.

"Need an answer darling." His voice was a hum as he leaned in closer. I could feel the ghost of his lips along the side of my neck.

"No." The word was quieter than I intended. I was almost afraid he didn't hear me.

"No what?" Azriel questioned, his right hand coming to rest on my hip.

"No, I didn't just want flower." His hand snaked to my stomach, pulling me flush against him. I leaned my head back against his shoulder, craning my head to the side for him.

"Thank fuck." Azriel placed a featherlight kiss on the side of my neck. The feeling sent sparks over the sensitive skin. His free hand came up to my neck, gently grasping it. He tilted my head back to look at him. My back slightly arching from the position. Those amber eyes seared right through me.

"Cause I've been thinking about all the things I could do to this pretty body since the party." The words dripped with pure sin. The heat in his eyes only serving his point. My thighs clenched together to satiate my growing need.

"That what you want princess? Want me to worship this body? Have you screaming and writhing in pleasure?” Wetness pooled between my thighs at his words. Images flashing in my mind of him being on top of me, back muscles flexing with each thrust.

My response was breathy, needy. I didn’t even hesitate with my answer. “Yes.”

He twirled me around quickly. My lower back against the edge of the counter. He pressed himself against me, one of his hands tangling into my hair. The other reached down to grip my backside as he captured my lips with his in a hungry kiss.

His hard cock pressing against my inner thigh as his tongue swiped my bottom lip. A silent request that I accepted when my tongue tangled with his. His lips dominating mine. The kiss was harsh, dominating, filled with hot desire. A muffled moan left me at the taste of him. Smoke, mint and something I couldn’t place. It was intoxicating.

He smirked against my lips as he pulled my bottom lip between his teeth. “You’ll be begging for mercy when I’m done with you sweetheart.” There was a dark promise in those words.

He untangled his hand from my hair before reaching down. Lifting me effortlessly in his arms before crashing his mouth onto mine again. I could feel the stickiness of my panties at this angle. The pure need that coursed through my veins.

He walked us to my room, kissing down my neck with each step. I was thankful that I didn’t have roommates in that moment. Azriel laid me on the plush surface before climbing over me. His pupils blown wide with primal desire, I’m sure mine mimicked his.

His hands found their way under my t-shirt, the ridges of his scars giving me goosebumps. He touch was gentle, caressing. A drastic change to the way he was just kissing me. Azriel let out a groan as he palmed my breast, realizing I wasn’t wearing a bra. His thumb skimmed over my hard nipple.

“No bra? Were you planning for this princess?” Azriel’s voice was gravelly, lust filled as he stared down at me. His other hand pushed my shirt up, up, up until my chest was bared to him. A low growl reverberated in his chest as his eyes roamed over me.

“Look at you.” He praised as he took both of my tits in his palms. Kneading them with a possessive grip. “All of this just for me.” He muttered, as if he wasn’t going to let another man touch me after this.

He leaned down, taking my right nipple into his mouth. His tongue flicking and swirling. “Azriel” I gasped when his teeth grazed the sensitive bud. My back arching off the bed, a silent plea for more. A deep chuckle left him before letting me go with a small popping sound.

“Oh I’m just getting started baby.” I had no doubt about that as he turned his attention to my other breast. His hand kneading the one he’d already teased. I could feel him leaving bruising marks with his mouth. Biting and sucking harshly. Claiming me with his mouth.

“My god, I could stay like this all day.” He groaned when he sat back to admire his work. Sure enough, hickies littered my chest. Different sizes and colors that told anyone who’d see that I was clearly taken, even if only for the night. The sight only made my thighs clench together again.

He pulled my shirt over my head, throwing it to somewhere in my room. He placed teasing soft kisses down my sternum, my belly, to the curve of my hips. Azriel’s teeth scraped along the bone that made a whimper escape my lips.

I tangled a hand into his hair. The dark strands felt like silk between my fingers. He let out a grunt of approval when I tugged gently. His teeth biting, actually biting, my hip when I did so. The action made me gasp from the harshness.

I could feel his hot breath hit my skin in a silent laugh. His hands toyed with the waist band of my shorts before slowly, so slowly dragging the spandex down my legs. Taunting, toying with me. Building the anticipation of what he’d do next.

Azriel’s hands rubbed up and down the outside of my thighs before spreading them. My lace black panties covering my drenched pussy. He swiped a teasing finger up my clothed core. “Fuck. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already drenched baby.” He muttered as he situated himself between my thighs, throwing a leg over each shoulder. His breath hitting my core as he looked up at me.

“What do you want?” The pad of his thumb replaced his finger, just barely pressing down on my clit as he waited for my answer. The pressure made my breath hitch. My hips bucking upwards. More, I needed more.

“I need words, babygirl. Otherwise I’ll stop.” He taunted. His thumb slowly retreating.

“You. I need you.” I panted out. My body felt like an inferno, aching for release at this point.

“Be specific. What part of me do you want?” He was drawing this out. Enjoying the fact he was making me wait for it.

“Your tongue. Azriel, please.” The words were a needy whine as his thumb pressed down on my clit again. Harder than before. The pressure was just enough to give me slight relief but that’s all he did.

“Yeah? Want me to eat this pussy? Make you come on my tongue over and over?” His filthy words only made the wetness worse. It was almost uncomfortable.

“Please!” I cried before I heard lace ripping. I couldn’t find myself to care about the fact those were my favorite panties.

“Who am I to deny you after you beg so prettily.” Azriel’s mouth descended on me before I could reply. His tongue flattening out to lick a stripe up my pussy. Flicking my clit perfectly that had my eyes rolling back. The hand in his hair tightening as he ate me like a man starved.

Those large hands holding my hips down. Not letting me escape from his brutal mouth. His tongue flicking and sucking on my clit. Teeth gently scraping against the bud that made a strained cry leave me. My vision clouded by stars as he drove me to my orgasm. “Azriel. Oh god. Just like that. Don’t stop.” I begged under him.

He pulled back for a moment. My juices glistening on his chin as he stared up at me. One of his hands released me, only to slip a finger into my pussy. The intrusion made me free hand grip the sheets. The ridges of his scars making it feel heavenly. “Oh trust me darling. Your pussy tastes so sweet, I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted.”

He dove back in. His tongue ten times more brutal than before. His finger plunging in and out of my tight hole before adding a second. I cried out as I raised my hips. Chasing that sweet release that threatened to snap in my belly. “Az- oh god…” the squelching sound of my pussy echoed in the room, only adding to my desire.

“No God here baby. Just me.” His mouth curved into a wicked grin as he watched me writhe beneath him. “Now be a good little girl and cum for me. I want your sweet juices on my tongue.” He sucked my clit between his teeth, his fingers curling in a come here motion. It was too much. “Azriel!” My back bowed off the bed as my orgasm hit me. Hot, white pleasure blinded me as he licked me through my release. My thighs were clamped around his head in an effort to make him stop but he didn’t care. Not until he lapped up every last drop of me, even licking me off of his fingers as he stared down at me. The sight was erotic.

“So good for me baby. Think you can give me one?” He pulled his shirt off. My eyes greedily took in his physique. The tattoos on his arms came up over his broad shoulders, dipping down onto his chiseled chest. Abs that I so badly wanted to run my tongue over. With harsh b lines that dipped beneath his jeans. I could feel myself salivating at the sight. I nodded eagerly at his question.

He gripped my chin between his index finger and thumb. His eyes sharp, dark with so many emotions. “Words, Princess. I wanna hear you.”

“Yes.” I whispered. Feeling like putty in his hands.

“Good girl. Now lay back and let me take care of you like I promised.”

I watched as he undid the button of his jeans. Anticipation clawing at my chest as I watched his every movement. One thing I’m learning about Azriel? He loved to take his time. Draw out every moment that he could, leaving me to want for more.

He stood up to kick off his jeans and boxers. His hard cock springing up to his belly button. My tongue darted out, licking my lips as I took him in. He was long, and girthy. The tip was an angry red as precum was beginning to build. I so badly wanted to taste him. Wanted to gag on him til I couldn’t breathe.

He must’ve seen the look in my eye. “As much as I’d love to feel those pretty lips wrapped around my cock,” he stalked forward to the bed, lowering himself on top of me. “I need to feel your pussy clenching around me.” My god where did this filthy mouth come from?

I spread my legs to welcome him. His chest rubbing against my hard sensitive nipples, sending a ripple of pleasure through me. His breath fanned across my face as he stared down at me. His cock pressed against my dripping pussy. My hole clenching around nothing as I waited.

“You sure you want this?” His tone had turned softer, his gaze searching mine for a hint of hesitation.

“Yes. Please Az. Wanna feel you.” His eyes flickered between mine for a moment, but when he didn’t find any hesitation that damn smirk came back. He reached between us, lining himself up with me.

“Good, cause I really don’t wanna go another minute without feeling this pussy.” With that, he plunged into me. The sudden action make my head fall back against the bed as a cry left me. The stretch of him was a little painful but nothing compared to the pure pleasure I was feeling.

My walls tightened around him, pulling a groan from him. “Princess, you keep squeezing me like that?” He panted for a moment. “I’m not going to be able to last.” He started moving then.

His cock dragging against my gummy walls before thrusting back in. He set a harsh pace. Hitting deep inside of me to that sweet spot that made me see stars. One of my hands tangled into his hair again, the other holding onto his shoulder.

“Fuck…” I whimpered as he angled his hips just right. Hitting the wall of my cervix.

“Yeah? Feels so good doesn’t it baby. God, you’re so fucking tight. Just clenching around that cock.” I cried out at his words, my pussy clamping down around him. Causing him to release a guttural groan.

That coil in my belly became tighter and tighter with each thrust. My eyes rolling back as i lost myself in him, his touch. “Eyes on me Princess. Wanna watch you lose yourself on my cock.” My eyes snapped to his. My vision fuzzy as I stared up at him.

He placed a hand on my neck, gently holding me in place. The action sent a thrill through me, he must’ve seen the look in my eye.

“You like this?” The tips of his fingers squeezed the sides of my throat. Cutting off my air just slightly, my body clamped around him in response. “Yeah, you like that. Naughty little thing aren’t you?” His thrusts were becoming harder and harder. I was so, so close.

“God I can feel you tightening around me. You gonna cum princess? Gonna make a mess all over my cock?” He grinned down at me, the look in his eye was absolutely feral. “Come on sweetness, cum for me. Be a good girl.”

The hand that wasn’t on my throat reached down, splaying across my lower stomach before pressing down. Adding pressure to where his cock slid in and out effortlessly. His thrusts came faster, driving me home.

“Azriel!” My scream echoed in the room, my head falling back as my mouth opened in a silent cry. My eyes rolling back as my orgasm rolled through me. Pressure in my lower abdomen built uncomfortably.

“God damn, look at you. Squirting all over me. Sucking my cock back in like a needy little slut.” His voice was rough, gravelly as his thrusts became needy. Chasing his own release.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum princess.” He groaned right before his body tensed. His muscles growing taught as he let out the most sinful moan I’d ever heard. His hot seed spilling into me as he kept dragging his cock against my walls, prolonging our pleasure.

Our heavy pants were the only sound for a while. Both of us too out of it to speak as we came down from the intense high.

He leaned down to press a kiss against my forehead. “You did so good for me.” He whispered against my skin. A tired smile tugged at my lips.

He slowly pulled out, wincing slightly from the loss of him. He laid next to me, pulling against his chest. I leaned my forehead against him, savoring the soft moment.

“We’ll have to do that again sometime.” My voice was raspy from over exertion. He chuckled before tilting my head back to look at him.

“Oh we’re definitely doing that again Princess. I just need a break.” His eyes gleamed with the promise that he wasn’t done with me just yet. “I still wanna feel those pretty lips around my cock.”

After he caught his breath, he ravished me until the sun peaked over the horizon. There was absolutely no way I was going into work now.

[sturnsblogs]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆More than best-friends‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Chapter 2: Slipping away

Chris was different after that day. It wasn’t anything huge, at least not at first. But it was there. Maybe it was the way he checked his phone constantly, or how his attention seemed elsewhere even when sitting right next to you.

He was still Chris, still your best friend, but now there was her.

Avery.

The name alone made something in your chest tighten, though you’d never admit it.

At school, things felt almost normal—almost. He still sat with you at lunch, still walked you to class, still stole food off your tray like always. But then there were the moments when he wasn’t really there. Moments when you’d be talking, and his attention would drift to his phone, his face lighting up at whatever was on the screen.

It wasn’t hard to guess who he was texting.

“She surprised me with coffee this morning,” he announced suddenly, grinning.

You poked at your food. “What?”

“Avery,” he said, like it was obvious. “She remembered my exact order. Down to the extra shot of espresso. How cute is that?”

Forcing a smile, you nodded. “That’s nice.”

“She’s just… different, you know?” His excitement spilled over as he leaned back in his seat. “I’ve never met a girl like her. She’s so easy to talk to. She listens. She gets me.”

It was hard not to flinch at that. Hadn’t you been the one listening to all his rants for years? Didn’t you get him better than anyone?

Instead of saying that, you just nodded. “Yeah, she seems great.”

He didn’t notice the hesitation in your voice.

Lunch went on like that—him talking about Avery, you pretending it didn’t bother you. Maybe it wouldn’t have, if not for what happened later.

—

That night, a message from Chris popped up on your phone.

Chris: “Movie night? My place?”

Relief flooded through you. Finally. Things felt off lately, but this was normal. This was what the two of you did.

You: “Duh. Be there in 10.”

Grabbing some snacks and pulling on a hoodie, you made your way over, walking in without knocking—his house had always been a second home.

Chris was already sprawled out on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in his lap, scrolling through Netflix.

“You took forever,” he teased, tossing a piece of popcorn at you.

Rolling your eyes, you plopped down next to him. “It’s been ten minutes, drama queen.”

He chuckled, nudging your shoulder. “Whatever. What are we watching?”

Before you could answer, his phone buzzed. Just like that, his attention shifted.

He grinned at his screen, typing quickly.

Avery.

The knot in your chest tightened. “You inviting her?”

“Huh?”

You motioned toward his phone. “Avery. You’re texting her. Is she coming?”

“Oh. Nah,” he said, still smiling. “She’s at home. Just checking in.”

Checking in? Since when did he “check in” with people?

“Chris.” You nudged him. “Movie night. Put your phone down.”

He sighed but tossed it onto the coffee table. “Fine, fine.”

For a while, things felt normal again. The two of you laughed at dumb scenes, threw popcorn at each other, argued over the plot. But then his phone buzzed again.

Chris hesitated, glancing at it.

You sighed. “Just answer her.”

His expression softened. “You sure?”

No, you weren’t sure. You wanted to be selfish, wanted him to ignore it just for one night. But instead, you forced a smile and nodded.

He grabbed his phone, fingers flying over the keyboard, completely tuned out.

The normalcy you’d been holding onto slipped further away.

The movie blurred into background noise. Even though he was sitting right there, it felt like he was miles away.

You shifted, hugging your knees. “So… what’s she saying?”

Chris didn’t look up. “Huh?”

“For someone who’s just checking in, she sure is keeping you busy.”

He barely reacted. “Oh, nothing big. Just telling her about movie night. She said it’s cute that we have traditions.”

Your stomach twisted. Cute. As if your years of friendship were just some little quirk of his.

Jaw tightening, you refocused on the screen, determined to ignore the feeling creeping up your spine. But after a few minutes, he still wasn’t paying attention.

“Dude.” You nudged him again. “Seriously. You’re missing the best part.”

Chris sighed, locking his phone. “Okay, okay, I’m done.” He turned back to the screen, but now you couldn’t focus.

Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe you were just being selfish. He was allowed to be excited about his girlfriend. He was allowed to check his phone.

Right?

Still, it was hard to ignore how things used to be. How, not too long ago, you never had to fight for his attention.

Chris laughed at something in the movie, nudging you playfully. “Come on, I know you think this is funny.”

Your response was half-hearted. “Yeah. Totally.”

Something in your tone must’ve given you away because he frowned. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “It’s just… you’ve been on your phone all night. I don’t even know why I came over.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “Come on. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” You scoffed. “Chris, I don’t even remember the last time we hung out without you texting Avery the whole time.”

Chris sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I like talking to her. Is that a crime?”

“No, but—” You stopped yourself, biting your tongue.

But what? But she’s taking you away from me? But you never acted like this before? But I miss the way things used to be?

Chris waited for you to finish, but the words stuck in your throat.

Instead, you shook your head. “Forget it.”

He groaned. “Oh my god, just say it.”

“I said forget it.”

“No, because obviously something’s bothering you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’s because I feel like I’m losing my best friend,” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

Silence.

Chris blinked. “You’re not losing me.”

You looked away, not trusting yourself to speak.

Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look… I don’t want you to feel that way. But I really like Avery. Can’t you just be happy for me?”

Your stomach twisted. “I am happy for you.”

But even as you said it, you weren’t sure if it was the truth.

A/N- i will also be doing the third chapter tonight (it’s already written) i just passed out last night and forget to post the second chapter!

My beautiful babies- @chrislilcumslvt @blushsturns

TAGLIST TO BE ON MASTER LIST

CHAPTER ONE

[magicalgirlmindcrank]

Mindcrank's top 10 Mikus of the first five years

This list runs from the last monday of feb 2019 to to feb '24. Theres a few more done after that date in 24 that are not eligible.

#10 - 7/29/19: 'Aeiou Aeiou'

This was the first Miku we ever made that we were and remain truly proud of. We were still using SAI 1.0 back then, and I don't think we ever figured out how to do any rendering outside of adjusting opacity on the default brush. That we managed to make such a blend of colors and light with such a limitation in knowledge and tools just months after picking up a tablet, really makes this piece impressive to us even now. Even so, this barely cinches a spot almost by power of nostalgia alone.

#9 - 5/30/2022: 'One day I'll get to actually attend a concert'

Funnily enough, this one is based on a concert we did go to. Not a Hatsune Miku concert (though we still have our Miku expo 2020 ticket) but an Aurora one our youngest sister took us to. The singer came on, backlit as seen, and it kinda stuck with me. Really love this one though, the minimalist backlighting just looks great.

#8 - 6/27/2022: I really liked that one AI Greentext @liquidstar posted

While there are parts of this we're a bit questionable on now, namely the face in the final panel and being inspired by an AI greentext in the first place, this Miku holds a v special place in our heart. it's easily our most popular too, notes wise!

#7 - 4/3/2023 'A Trip To The Moon by Hatsune Miku'

This was part inspired by the desire to make a fake album cover, and part by the urban legend that the first manmade object in space was a sewer cover that was launched by a nuclear test. While untrue as the lid would have disintegrated at the speed it was moving well before leaving the atmosphere, it made for some potent imagery. This is one we wish we had even more time with, but as is, just looks fantastic. Every concept we wanted is there and so so good. Should really make a song list for this album.

#6 3/6/2023 'This is how Hatslimey Migoo arrives onstage'

This was part of Migoo March of '23, and we had to fight ourselves from including another piece from from the same month. It's no secret that Hatslimey Migoo is our favorite Miku design we made (sorry Radical Miku) and the whimsy and charm she brings with her is in spades here.

#5 - 7/11/2022 'Miku but it's me my 2009 senior year'

Okay so obviously at this point they're all near and dear to my heart, but this one has something even more special to it. I was such a depressed piece of shit in highschool and it was nice to give our past selves some love. That so many also loved her was genuinely healing in a way.

#4 - 8/1/2022 'Sli-Miku? Slimeku? Hatslimey Miku? Yeah'

Listen we said Hastlimey Migoo was our favorite child, and well, we just couldn't not put her origin image on this list. I mean just look at her! She's adorable! Not to mention how well we did making her look goopy as hell.

Honorable mentions!

(okay look we had to cut this down from 26 images and there still like a dozen more that could have made the shortlist so let us have this)

From 2021! Still perhaps our favorite Radical Miku! Posing and shadows look great still tbh.

Perhaps the Miku with the least amount of love noteswise. From 2023, it just really captures the miserable summer days in my shitty old room. there was no AC and it was triple digits or close to it many, many days. Just looking at it is something bittersweet.

From 2022, we have this vampire miku! Sure some parts are a little off, but the colors and bg just feel so right! So very perfectly part of the mood. Back to the countdown!

#3 9/25/2023 'Patron Saint of Song'

This is the Miku we're perhaps the second most unreasonably proud of on a technical level. Working within the limitations of imitating another style just pulled something out of us ig. We're not even sure what else to say, just look at it! The smooth lines, the way the flatly colored pieces create depth with the curves, the bordering. Easily one of the best pieces we've ever made.

#2 - 2/8/21 'Miku Devours Her Progeny'

This is it. Perhaps the one you expected at No. 1? It has been our favorite for a very long time, and the one we pointed to as such for a while after all. Even after making the piece that now resides at the top slot.

There's just something so absurd about Miku as Saturn, yet something that works to it. She is, after all, the first Vocaloid, and remains the most outwardly popular. A position that naturally calls for the cannibalization of her progeny. Perhaps it's the way it captures the madness and zero sum nature of making art?

No matter how long we look at it, no matter the new flaws we spot in it's construction, it's a piece that as we gaze upon it we only love more.

#1 - 5/22/23 'Trail Cam Footage'

This is a piece that's truly difficult to speak on. Iirc, we had found ourselves short on time, so elected to try a rougher, more impressionist style. Something we could make quickly, as to not miss a Monday and get to bed at a reasonable hour. Taking further inspiration from trail cams and horror, we decided a greyscale would help further eliminate work. No pesky color picking to complicate rendering.

This as made in a single post-work sitting as a result. It has since become our favorite.

It so perfectly captures the feeling of seeing something spooky on a low res camera feed. Just enough details to let your mind fill in the blanks. The short field of view making it all the more intimate. The oppressive darkness all around. This is the only piece we've loved enough to share to other sites we don't post to. Its both our blog background, and our PC wallpaper!

We've often considered revisiting this style, but are afraid we'd never be able to live up to this. Honestly, it feels like it would be redundant. This one piece is already the peak. Not to mention, there's no way to live up to the fact that just days later, actual trail cam footage of two naked witches eating a deer emerged.

Which Miku is your favorite? Did we miss one you love? Let us know!

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 8

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @liciafonseca

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 7

Joel froze. He didn’t say anything back to Tommy. You were weirded out by the silence, so you turned around and gave Tommy a beaming smile yourself, asking him what you could get for him.

“Oh, I’m just here to get the coffee that changed my brother’s mind about fancy coffee. He seemed content with crappy coffee all his life until he had yours,” Tommy smirked at Joel, whose face had now turned bright red.

“Oh, you must be Sarah and Ellie’s Uncle Tommy! It’s nice to finally meet you! They talk about you all the time!” you held out your hand for him to shake, and he took it, kissing the tips of your fingers gently as he confirmed his identity. You didn’t see Joel’s jaw clench watching his brother easily flirt with you.

“Let me just get your order. You Millers must have an iron stomach! Six shots of espressos are no light feat!”

You turned around and immediately began preparing his order, completely unaware of the silent argument going on between the two siblings. Joel keyed in the price of an americano with the extra espresso shots, holding the reader out aggressively, stopping just before it hit the younger man squarely in the nose for him to pay.

“It’s okay, Joel, it’s on the house. Maybe he can wipe tables for a few hours,” you joked.

“Nah, he has places to be, he’s a busy guy, right Tommy?” Joel widened his eyes at his brother, though his stiff body posture visibly softened at your gentle tone.

“Actually, I could use a change of pace. Sure, I can wipe tables, you got a rag?” Tommy’s smirk widened as his brother’s face turned an oddly darker shade of beet. Joel tossed a rag to his face, signalling for him to move aside so he could serve the next customer.

“Best leave them to it,” Bill’s voice chimed in, “Not enough space in the truck for all of us,” he said, pulling a chair and sitting down himself, gesturing for Tommy to sit with him.

Tommy took a sip of the coffee you handed to him as soon as he sat down. He offered Bill a hand to shake, “Tommy, I’m Joel’s brother,” he said.

“I know who you are, I know who your brother is. Seen you on that show,” Bill grumbled. “You guys do a good job,” he said, “Been doing DIY all my life. You know what you’re talking about.”

“I hope so,” Tommy said, eyes watching Joel smile more than he ever had outside of his family time. “Learnt everything we know from our old man. Sure wish he was still around to see us, you know? We grew up lacking, he worked so hard for us, and I think our biggest regret, both mine and Joel’s, is that our parents didn’t live long enough to enjoy our success,” Tommy held his head down, fingers fiddling with the strap on his watch.

Bill nodded, eye softening a bit hearing Tommy talk about his late Papa.

The two chatted a bit, Bill learning how Tommy and Joel knew you, and Tommy learning a little bit about your family. The man was not as much of a grump as he seemed to be, Tommy found, actually reminded him of Joel a lot. It was clear how much Bill loved you, cared about you.

After a while, the two stopped chatting, eyes fixed on the truck, both you and Joel working seamlessly together. Tommy felt as if he was watching some sort of a TV show where the hero resembled his older brother, except this guy was smiling way too much.

“Is Lily seeing anyone?” he chanced a question at Bill.

Bill glared at him for a second, as if deciding if the question was intrusive, but ultimately deciding it wasn’t, seeing where the man was coming from. He had been wondering about this Joel guy since he appeared this morning, clocking his shy body language whenever you were near him. And as for you, there was something he saw in your smile when you saw him that morning. Being in the service industry, you had a smile at the ready, one you used for everyone, a generic smile you turned on effortlessly. But your real smile, you saved for a select few people in your life. The one you gave this Joel guy was definitely the second one. More so, in fact. Extremely genuine, but you didn’t hug the man or kiss him hello. You were usually very physical with people you deemed your friends. So the fact that you served this man your genuine smile, but refrained from touching him told him something.

“Who are you asking for?” Bill asked Tommy instead of answering.

Tommy laughed, “Just curious, is all,” he deflected, still watching his brother laugh with you in the truck, glancing at Bill, who was also watching the scene unfold. “Known that guy all my life, never seen him smile and laugh like that with anyone who is not his immediate family,” he told Bill, who raised an eyebrow at him.

The guy from the next truck came by, talked to you about something, and you beckoned to your uncle, who hurried over to see you. Joel came out, his own coffee cup in his hands, sitting down himself.

“You know, this is good coffee,” Tommy seemingly conceded, taking another sip from his cup. Joel nodded, couldn’t help himself from agreeing with his brother, eyes closing once more at the warm, bitter, sweet liquid warming his insides.

“But it’s strange,” Tommy continued, “It’s good, but I didn’t close my eyes as if my world was put right again after a sip. I’m wondering if it’s not the coffee… but the person who brewed it instead,” he finished, his eyes twinkling.

Joel’s head snapped around, checking if you heard Tommy’s accusation. But try as he might to retort, he couldn’t find it in himself to say anything. He could feel his cheeks turn red as his younger brother’s grin got wider and wider.

“Oh man, I’m right, aren’t I?” he smacked his brother in the shoulder. “What are you waiting for? Ask her out!”

Joel scoffed, shaking his head. “She’s a friend, Tommy. She’s the girls’ friend. I can’t risk ruining their friendships.”

“The way the girls kept talking about her at the cabin? I think they know. And what’s more, I know they approve.”

Joel hung his head, hands playing with his cup. He looked at the truck, seeing you and your uncle arrange the order that Tony’s brother put in. He had volunteered to help, but the order was urgent, so Bill would do a faster job, seeing as he was a lot more used to helping compared to him. The guy could actually use the machine and make fancy coffee with you.

“It’s not about that, Tommy. I’m not ready for that kind of thing. I don’t know if I even have it in me anymore. You want me to reel some unlucky lady into a relationship when I don’t know if I can do that? I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s just cruel.”

Tommy wanted to say more but decided not to. He didn’t want to push Joel into anything like this, knowing his aversion to having a romantic relationship. He had tried. Oh Lord, how he tried. But Joel was a stubborn man. And perhaps, his love for Laura was too great, maybe he was afraid of losing again. Tommy had no idea what it was like to lose a wife, to become a single dad at 22, heck, he didn’t even know Laura that well. He was in the army when Joel met Laura. He met her maybe five times, but it was clear to him that Joel was besotted with her. And when she died, it was as if his ability to love another woman, aside from their Mama and Sarah, and later Ellie, died with her. Joel refused to even talk about her. It hurt too much, perhaps. Maybe Laura was the great love in his life and he would spend his life mourning her. And everyone around him just had to make peace with that.

But then, what he saw this past week, and especially this morning, made him think there was hope yet for his brother. His girls definitely were hoping he would find someone. Both of them seemed to make their life plans around him, not wanting him to be alone. And what Ellie kept insisting happened over the two weeks before Sarah came home was not her imagination after all. He had only seen Joel with you for a little over an hour, and already, his big brother was the happy man he knew before his wife passed. More so, in fact. He seemed light, relaxed, happy.

His Mama used to voice her worries for Joel before she passed. Joel was quiet after Laura. He had an inkling that his Mama knew more than she let on, but she never told him anything. She was so worried he would just end up alone forever, and the last thing she wanted was for her oldest boy to be lonely. And then there was Sarah, she worried for her, wanting her to grow up with a female presence in her life other than a grandmother. But any time either of them suggested a set up or him going out more to meet new women, they were either met with silence, straight out rejection, or in Tommy’s case, hostility.

Tommy knew he was not one to talk. He hadn’t exactly had a serious relationship in years. He realized that he and Maria were a new development, but now that he’d met her, he also knew that he didn’t want to even imagine a life without her in it. And he wanted his brother to have that too.

But how could he help Joel, when the man himself didn’t want to be helped?

A couple of weeks went by, and before they knew it, the meetings for the shoots over the next season had begun. The new episodes shot over the past year was edited and ready to go for airing, and Joel found himself dragging his feet to get to work. The prospect of another year of this, as determined as he may be that it was the final one, was too much to bear for him. Another year of long work hours, another year of being away from his girls. The idea that he would have to be away from home more than he would have liked hurt him.

Sarah was home, loving her internship so much she came home every single day with stories to tell. Ellie finished her summer course, enjoying the last couple of weeks of her summer holiday. He was positively sulking at the idea that he might need to leave the house before he could send Ellie to school and come back home after the girls were asleep, missing Sarah’s stories and Ellie’s homework time. Given how busy his schedule would be, he might even be away on weekends, so movie nights with the girls and Tommy might be a thing they had to forego for a while too. Even the thought of what was coming made his heart feel heavy.

But what weighed his heart down even further was the fact that Ellie would no longer be attending the classes at the rec centre. There would be no excuse for him to see you in the mornings. For the coffee, obviously. He had no idea how he was going to go back to bad coffee on set when he had been indulging in that luxurious cup he had been having for the past few weeks.

Of course, the idea that he wouldn’t be seeing you every day for the next year was something he wasn’t looking forward to either, but that was neither here nor there, surely?

He had learnt more about you from your time together, seamlessly chatting whenever the truck had a breather from customers. You even taught him to make his own espresso shots. He actually managed to make a simple latte and an americano for a couple of customers when you went to get something from Tony. But for his special cup of coffee, his payment for helping you out in the mornings, you had always indulged him. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He stayed once Ellie came out of class, wiping tables, joking around with you and Ellie, only going home when you close for the day. Heck, he had the free time, and spending time with Ellie as she earned her first cheques was something he wouldn’t miss. Ellie got quite good at making coffee, despite hating the stuff. She even managed a decent cup of cappuccino a few times, complete with the foamy art thing at the top. He couldn’t get the look of happiness that graced his little girl’s face every time she succeeded, and the proud smile and hug you gave her stayed in his head.

He couldn’t deny the influence you had on his girls. He knew Ellie spoke to you about things she didn’t dare tell him, private stuff, perhaps, and watching her interact with you brought warmth to his heart. He watched as you braided Ellie’s hair in one of those stick to the head braid things, the one he had attempted for years with Sarah but could never get neat enough, when she complained the bits that was not tied in her ponytail kept getting in her face. He was so tempted to take a picture, you sitting in the truck doorway, Ellie between your legs on the steps, smiling and laughing with each other as Ellie told you something that happened in class that day, but if someone knew what a big deal it was to have someone snap a picture of them without consent, it was him. So he didn’t. But the sight was so domestic, so intimate, he wished he had done so. Ellie’s own mother ditched her as if she was yesterday’s garbage and knowing that Ellie had you to turn to made him feel better. Even Sarah wouldn’t shut up about you, even though her time spent with you were now limited to weekends, texting and phone calls. Like Ellie, she had taken to telling you stuff she wouldn’t share with Joel as well, and the fact that you never told him anything showed him they were right to have chosen to tell you in the first place.

He liked you. He knew that. There were days when he was lying in bed looking at your phone number, daring himself to text you. But he didn’t know what to say. Laura was the only woman he had ever allowed himself to be that close to, and his relationship with Laura was… different.

But God, he wished he could find the courage to text you.  

Yesterday, on Ellie’s last day of work, Joel watched as you presented her with her final cheque, giving her a tight hug after, telling her to come over in the evenings if she decided to volunteer at the centre. Though the teenager had plans to do exactly that, Joel could still see she was sad that she wouldn’t be spending so much time with you. She took a selfie with you, silly faces for the photo, you pointing at the cheque in Ellie’s hand with a huge grin on your face.

Then, you turned to him and gave him a brief hug, thanking him for helping you out, telling him not to be a stranger.

Maybe he imagined it, but he could have sworn he saw a glint of sadness in your eyes.

How he wished he had the courage to get a selfie with you too, but given how the two of you met, he didn’t even dare ask.

And he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t miss your company.  

“Okay, so there is a list of celebrities who had already expressed interest in the charity episodes, more than we need, actually, but those who we couldn’t fit in this season could always be on standby for next season,” Jimmy, one of the co-producers told the team, shuffling a bunch of papers on his desk, passing the list around.

“Next season?” Joel asked, “Didn’t Angela speak to you?”

Jimmy looked at Joel, confusion in his face. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not renewing. This is my final run.”

There were murmurs of confusion going around the room.

Jimmy looked flabbergasted. Tommy kept his head down, but didn’t say anything.

“Well,” Jimmy managed to blurt out, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it then. Moving on…”

“Angela, why hasn’t the team been informed about this being my final year?” Joel barked as he walked into Angela’s office, Tommy following behind.

Angela rolled her eyes, “Are we really back here?” she asked, her arms crossed on her chest as the brothers stood in front of her desk.

“I wasn’t kidding. I am not renewing. I was very clear about this.”

Angela opened her desk drawer, taking two envelopes out, depositing one in front of each brother. “Have a look, gentlemen, and tell me you want to decline that offer,” she said, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Tommy picked up the envelope and took out the new contract, shuffling the pages for a bit before settling on one page, letting a whistle escape his lips, his expression impressed. Joel didn’t even look at his envelope.

“They tripled our pay,” Tommy said. Joel still didn’t budge.

“Tell me I didn’t do you justice. Haven’t I always taken care of you two?” Angela cooed.

“I don’t care about the money. I am done. I’m not signing,” Joel reiterated, turning around to leave.

“Tommy, knock some sense into your brother here, please. Imagine what you can do with that kind of money!” Angela told Tommy, exasperated at Joel’s stubbornness.

Tommy didn’t speak. He closed up the contract and placed it back in the envelope. He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head a little before letting the envelope fall on her desk.

“I’m not renewing either.”

Joel stopped in his tracks, his head snapping around to face his brother.

“What?” Angela gasped, her face now devoid of any colour, despite the layers of make-up on it.

“I’m with Joel. I’m not renewing. I’m done. One more year and then I stop,” Tommy cooly replied, hands in his pockets.

“If the amount is not enough…”

“It’s not about the money, Angela. We’re just… done.”

Tommy turned around and joined his brother, asking him if he was interested in having a drink at his place, which Joel happily accepted.

They spent the evening drinking by Tommy’s pool, taking advantage of the final couple of weeks of vacation time they had, Joel letting loose for the first time in a long time. He felt free. Tommy wanted to retire too. One less person to fight over this decision he had made. Their phones were blaring with texts and missed calls from the agent, so much so, they had to set her tone to silent.

“So, you and Maria…?” he tried.

Tommy nodded, “Yeah…” he wiped his face with his hand, happiness written all over his features. “She’s great, Joel. She makes me happy.”

“Angela knows?”

“Fuck no. She’s gonna make it a thing. Publicity, all that. I’m not putting Maria through all that. And you know what she’s like, she’ll whip up an NDA before I finish telling her about it.”

Joel shook his head, annoyance clear across his features.

Tommy raised his eyebrows at that, pouring another shot of whiskey for the both of them.

“You two… uh… still…?” he tentatively asked, worried Joel might not be drunk enough to share.

“Nah, stopped that like… a couple months before i officially adopted Ellie?”

“Can I ask why?”

“She’s changed,” Joel said, sipping his whiskey, taking the fuzzy slippers Tommy gave him to wear in the backyard off, lying down fully on the pool chair. “You remember what she was like when we first met her?”

Tommy nodded. Of course he remembered. Angela, the sweet, fresh faced, innocent young girl who just landed a job at the agency. The two of them were among her first few clients. They were more friends than agent/clients back then, all of them starting out, still learning the business.

Somewhere along the way though, she changed. Obsessed with money, even going so far as marrying someone she didn’t love just because he was rich. The man was a known playboy, notorious for openly having a new young girl in his arms on a weekly basis. As she got older, she began to worry his interest was waning, so she took it upon herself to look younger, keep his interests alive, all in the name of living a luxurious life. It was no secret she didn’t love him, only his money. She had lovers on the side for herself, not that her husband ever cared. He stayed with her because of her Hollywood connections, good for business, you know?  

Unfortunately for her, the man matured, fell in love for real, retired, and divorced her for the love of his life. And because of the prenup she signed, she didn’t get much in the divorce. She herself had become successful by then, so she went back to her single life, with plenty of money and a list of men she could call should she ever get… lonely.

She and Joel were friends for a long time, with benefits, of course. But he was always the man he was now, someone who refused to commit. The arrangement lasted until she got married, and resumed for a bit after she got divorced, only to stop completely when Ellie came into the picture. Joel didn’t like the way she tried to influence his decisions on Ellie, realizing that his formerly kind friend had changed. Everything became a question of image, and of course, money.

Joel just couldn’t find it in himself to ever be involved with someone like her. If not for the contract he signed, he would have said goodbye to her the moment she suggested having Ellie in his life was going to ruin his image. But now, he had one year left of this contract. He was not renewing, and Tommy was by his side. He had to stick with this for one more year, and then he’ll be free of her.

“What are you gonna do when the year is up?” Tommy asked.

“Ellie still has to finish school, after that, we’ll see,” Joel shrugged, giving Tommy his glass for a top up.

“Don’t punch me, but… will Lily be part of that life?” he smirked at his brother.

To his shock, his brother smiled, so widely, and blushed.

Oh, the drinks had gotten to him, Tommy thought.

Joel closed his eyes, laid his head back on the chair, a silly grin on his face, looking just the way Tommy imagined he himself did when the revelation about Maria came forth.

“God I hope so,” Joel heard himself say.

Shit. Stop talking.

“I like her, Tommy, I really do.”

Fuck, what the fuck was wrong with him? Stop talking!

“She’s so sweet, and kind, and funny, and smart, and she’s so nice to the girls, they love her, and she makes the best coffee in the world!” he exclaimed, gesturing to show how big the world was with his arms, spilling whiskey on himself.

Fuck it felt good to finally say it out loud.

Fuck, did he say it out loud?

He sat up, Tommy grinning at him like that cat from that book. Was it a cat?

“Maybe I should stop drinking, huh?” he feebly said.

“Fuck, no! I want to hear this!” Tommy teased, taking the glass from his brother and giving him water instead. “So we were right, you do like her?”

Joel hid his face in his hands, nodding.

“So tell her! What are you waiting for?”

Joel took his hands off his face, frowning a little.

“I don’t think she likes me like that,” he pouted, lying back down, arms over his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Joel sat back up, looking a bit forlorn now.

“She hates celebrities. We’ve been mean to her all her life. One stole her boyfriend. And I yelled at her. I fucking yelled at her, Tommy!”

Tommy wanted to laugh. When was the last time Joel was this relaxed? But this was the most he had ever gotten out of his brother, and he wasn’t going to let such an opportunity pass by.

“Well, maybe when you retire, you could ask her out. Technically, you wouldn’t be a celebrity anymore then, right?”

Joel’s eyes went wide, “Yeah, you’re right! I could ask her out then! I need to text her and tell her,” he slurred, fishing his phone out of his pocket, squinting a little at the screen when the brightness hit his eyes, deciding then he shouldn’t text you right away.

“Okay, let’s call Sarah huh? Have her pick you up? You’re in no shape to drive.”

“It’s just down the street, Tommy. I’ll be fine. I’ll walk.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you can walk a straight line to the bathroom, brother, let alone to your place. It’s a very long street.”

Joel laughed, standing up, swaying slightly. He downed the bottle of water Tommy gave him, going to the bathroom. He splashed some water on his face, smiling to himself. He felt lighter. He may have been loopy, but he knew he was telling Tommy the truth. He liked you. and it felt good to finally say it out loud.

“Hey Joel,” Tommy called out as he struggled to put his boots back on, “I want you and the girls to meet Maria.”

Joel nodded, happy to see his brother happy.

“Friday night? That sushi place?”

“It’s a date,” Joel said, squinting his eyes a little as Sarah’s headlights shone in his eyes. Ellie came out and went into the back seat, waving at Tommy as she did so.

“Hey, since it’s a date,” Tommy said, walking to the car with his brother, “Why don’t you ask Lily to join us?” He bent down to Sarah’s open window, “What do you think, girls? Do you think we should invite Lily to join us for dinner with Maria?”

The squeals the girls let out made Joel’s efforts to bend himself into the mini much more difficult, but his heart was soaring at the idea that his girls were that excited at the prospect of having you join them for dinner.

As he laid in bed that night, hoping to God his first hangover in years wouldn’t be too harsh, he took a deep breath and held his phone in his hands, the texting app at the ready. Might as well do it now while liquid courage was still in his system.

You placed the recycling in the bin, running a little as you went back to your apartment. The summer heat was still very much evident, even at night time, and you couldn’t wait to get back in the comfort of your AC. You were fishing for your keys in your pocket when Lucy tapped you on your shoulder, a meek smile on her face, a sponge cake in her outstretched hands.

“I need to apologize,” she said, a cringe accompanying the apology.

You felt bad for her, so you beckoned her inside, even cutting her a slice of the cake.

“I want to say sorry,” she began, “That day, I was hungover, I had a terrible first date the night before, and seeing Joel here…” she sighed, shame across her features.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, really… if you’re worried I would say anything, I…”

Lucy held her hand up, “No, Lily, I was rude to you. And I’m pretty sure I said some really bad stuff about him too. I just… I feel like I need to set the story straight.”

You nodded, letting her go on.

“See, I think I made him sound like some jerk or something. He really isn’t, Lily, there’s a reason I’m so bitter, after all,” she said, head hung a little, ashamed of herself.

“He’s a great guy. I dare even say that he’s the most gentlemanly man I have ever met. So polite, so gentle, so considerate. Compared to his brother, who, by all means was a great guy himself, Joel was just… on a different level, you know? I crushed hard on him. Everything I just said about him is true, and he’s good looking, humble, and a great dad to his kid to boot? Oh, I was in love with him before he even knew my name!”

You smiled, knowing that she was right. Joel was a great dad. You’ve seen him with his kids, they clearly loved each other a lot. And aside from his tantrums at the beginning, you knew him to be a great guy too. Everything she said about him was true.

“And the thing I said about his… bedroom… skills…” she added, carefully choosing her words, “I think his… lacking… was more due to the fact that he didn’t want intimacy, rather than his lack of a gift or talent, if you know what I mean…” she narrowed her eyes at you, head going down a little, as if trying to get you to read her mind.

Your head lowered with hers, face scrunched up, confused by her words.

“He’s packing, honey. Very much so,” Lucy blurted out.

Oh. Oh…

“So, he didn’t really need to try that hard, if you get my meaning,” she added, rather conspiratorially.

Uh… sure, whatever you say dear.

“So, when he reconfirmed the fact that he didn’t want more, I was heartbroken. He was perfect, he was actually a great guy, back then, at least. And he didn’t want me and couldn’t have made it clearer. I think if he tried to make it any clearer, he would have seriously injured himself. I couldn’t stay there and see him every day. It’s like being a diabetic in a candy store, and the shop owner wouldn’t let you buy any,” she sulked a little at her own words, making you snort.

She saw the way you were refraining from laughing and laughed herself. You burst into laughter, Lucy laughing harder than you at herself.

“So, I came to ‘warn’ you because I was jealous. I didn’t mean any of it,” she said, looking genuinely sorry for putting you in that position. “There’s a reason all his ‘exes’ are still on good terms with him, you know. He’s a great guy. Just… emotionally stunted, is all. And they all handled the NDA thing much better than I ever did,” she continued, taking another bite of the sponge cake.

“What about the NDA?” you couldn’t help asking. For someone who didn’t really bother with the gossip columns growing up, you were really curious.

“Ah,” she said, taking another slice of cake. “See, as I understand it, at least, the way it was explained to me before we, you know… had that experience in his office, he only made sure the NDAs go to people who were not deemed his ‘serious romantic partners’. Only his ‘friends with benefits’ receive them. And so far, most of those he slept with were given one, so when his agent gave me one, I knew right away that I was never ever going to be ‘the one’ for him,” she explained, taking another bite of the cake. “Damn, this cake is good.”

“Most? Did he ever not give anyone one?” you heard yourself ask, almost slapping yourself for even asking. Why did you need to know? You’re not interested, right?

Lucy nodded frantically, and you felt your heart drop further and further down every time her head dropped down. “One lady contractor, she was in that show on TLC a while back? Tess, I think? Yeah, Tess. They were seen together a lot, and there were rumours that they were an item. From what I heard, she didn’t have to sign one. They broke up when she moved to Texas.”

Okay, you shouldn’t listen to this anymore. So you changed the subject, asking her where she got the cake instead.

Before she left, she turned around and took you by the hand, making you promise her that you wouldn’t use her words back then against Joel. You gave her a disbelieving laugh, “Honey, I’m not with Joel. He’s a friend.”

“Okay, uhuh… sure… cause we all look at our friends the way you guys looked at each other that morning,” she smirked.

“Lucy, there was no look, I was just thanking him for helping me out,” you insisted, feeling your face and neck get hotter as you did.

“Lily, honey,” she said, “I may be a delusional, inconsiderate, untalented bitch who made you suffer through my horrendous singing at one point, and I was definitely hungover that morning, but I’m not blind. If Joel Miller had looked at you the way he would a friend that morning, I would not have come barging in here trying to make him seem like a limp-dicked, selfish man whore,” her eye brows were raised so high, her lips in a mocking pout at you, her hands rubbing your arms soothingly, as if she was sorry you were too thick to understand what was going on that morning.

With that, she took your face in her hands, pinched your cheeks and bid you goodnight.

You laid in bed unable to sleep, wondering what the hell to do with the information Lucy just gave you. You could not deny what she said back then did give you pause about Joel.

Sure, you liked him. He’s nice. Funny, even, when no one else was looking.

And okay, if you squint, he may even pass as okay looking.

Oh, who the fuck were you kidding? He’s totally hot. So hot you found yourself feeling hot all over every time he looked at you. Like all the heat in your veins just pooled under the outermost layer of your skin. Not to mention the way your heart skipped a beat every time he smiled at you. It’s a wonder you hadn’t toppled over from cardiac arrest at this point.

You looked for him in the morning crowd, and that week he was away…

Your fingers itched to text him. You willed Ellie to send you pictures with him in it. You stared at that photo she sent you of herself, Sarah and Joel with sushi in their mouths. Even at his silliest, he looked dashing. You found out rather early that googling his pictures was pointless, he didn’t smile in any of them, always with that frown on his face. You watched YouTube videos of him from that show, but he didn’t smile there either. You missed his smile when he was away. You kept rereading the text he sent you asking you to teach him how to brew coffee, the only texts between the two of you, aside from the ‘hi’ he sent when he first got your number.

When you said goodbye to Ellie yesterday, you meant it when you said she could still contact you. She’s been telling you things, whenever Joel was out of the truck. Texting you at night and even calling you with Sarah to talk to you about more private stuff. You didn’t mind, of course, but on one such call, he knocked on Ellie’s door and told her she should go to sleep, it’s late, and you heard him say goodnight to her and Sarah.

You couldn’t stop imagining what he was like at home that night, in a more domestic setting. What was he wearing? Did he look as good as he did outside?

After hugging Ellie goodbye, you took a chance and hugged him goodbye too, heart heavy at the thought of not seeing him around as much. You made the mistake of taking a whiff of his shirt as you did.

Fuck, he smelled great. And now you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not that you ever managed to since he started hanging out at the truck.

If what Lucy said back then made you pause on being closer to him, that conversation you just had with her didn’t help either. You could not get him out of your mind. And that comment about his… physique…

Your phone chimed, making you jump.

Joel Miller: Hej

Your heart soared. He texted you. He actually texted you.

Okay, stay cool. Relax. He couldn’t see you.

You: Hei. What are you, Swedish now?

Joel Miller: I might be a bot drink.

You: You don’t say? How can I help you, Mr Miller?

Joel Miller: Yuo frre Frrday?

You: Uh… I’m gonna guess you’re asking if I’m free Friday? I’m working. Why?

Joel Miller: Sorry, fst fingers. Froday night. You free Friday night?

You: I should be.

Joel Miller: Call I kill you?

Joel Miller: Walt. Np.

Joel Miller: No.

Joel Miller calling.

“Hello?” you had to refrain from laughing.

“My fingers are too big to text.”

“I can see that.”

He chuckled. You could hear the slow, lazy drag in his laugh.

Oh yeah, he’s drunk alright.

“I was trying to ask if you would be free for dinner. Friday. With me. The girls, Tommy, and his new girlfriend.”

His voice was so calm, slow, relaxed, every word drawn out. God it made you feel things.

“You sure you want me there? Sounds like a family thing. I don’t want to intrude…”

“You’re not. Please? The girls would really love it if you joined us.”

I would too. Please say yes.  

You were quiet. He lifted his phone off his ear, checking to see of you were still online. You were.

“Hello? You still there?”

“Yeah, I am, I just… are you asking me this cause you’re drunk?”

“No,” he slurred, chuckling. “I’m really asking. I’ll ask you again tomorrow, if you don’t believe me,” he promised.

“Okay, ask me tomorrow.”

“But if I do, would you say yes?”

“We’ll see, Mr Miller.”

“Okay,” he said, unable to control the grin on his face. “I’ll text you tomorrow. Good night Lily, please say yes.”

“Night Joel.”

Part 9

[mrsclrakey]

Heyyy guys tysm for the requests I really appreciate it so today’s story is kind of based on the song dress by Taylor swift I hope u guys like it!!!!!!!!

STORY NAME- Whispered Confessions

It had started innocently enough—late nights with George spent laughing over nothing, stolen moments in crowded rooms, the brush of his hand against yours that lingered just a little too long.

You had been friends for what felt like forever, though your connection always felt… different. Like there was something unspoken between you, humming beneath the surface, too fragile to bring into the light.

Tonight was no exception. The two of you were at a party, the kind of loud, buzzing gathering George usually thrived in. But while he worked the room with his effortless charm, his eyes kept finding yours.

You tried to focus on the conversation you were having, but every time your gaze met his across the room, your chest tightened. He looked unfairly good tonight—his shirt slightly undone, his hair just the right amount of messy.

When he finally approached you, his smile was easy, but his eyes were anything but.

“Need some air?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You nodded, grateful for the excuse.

He led you outside, away from the noise and the crowd, to a quiet garden strung with fairy lights. The air was cool against your skin, and the faint sound of music drifted out from the open windows.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. George leaned against the railing, his fingers tracing the edge of his glass, while you stood a few steps away, your arms crossed.

“You looked like you needed saving,” he said, breaking the silence.

You smiled. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see you.”

He tilted his head, his grin faltering slightly. “You see me all the time.”

“Not like this.” The words escaped before you could stop them, hanging in the air between you.

George’s eyes darkened, his usual teasing demeanor slipping away. “What are you saying?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. But you were tired of pretending, tired of hiding how you felt. “I think you know.”

He set his glass down and took a step closer, his gaze locked on yours. “Say it anyway.”

Your breath hitched, but you refused to look away. “I can’t stop thinking about you, George. The way you make me laugh, the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice… I’ve tried to ignore it, but I can’t.”

He was in front of you now, so close you could feel the heat radiating from him. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that?”

His hand reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “You’re all I think about. You have been for months.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You didn’t need them. The look in his eyes said everything.

And when he kissed you, it was like the world fell away. There was no party, no noise, no one else. Just you and George, tangled up in a moment that felt like it had been years in the making.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely a whisper.

“No one gets to see this side of me. Just you.”

And you realized, in that moment, that you didn’t want it any other way.

[maladaptivewritings]

Personal Jesus

Pt3

Simon has a tattoo artist he favors, and in his boredom while home becomes a superhero for a single person

tw: general Simon Riley behavior, general C.O.D topics, stalking for the cause?

Y/N : They/them, female anatomy implications, tattoo artist, oblivious loser , slightly more emotionally intelligent, nickname of lamb by Simon

word count: 700

Pt 1, Pt.2

Again?

Flowers, no a whole bouquet was perfectly placed on your car. Recently enough where they didn't wilt yet, and this was the fifth one this month. This was becoming a little too common as you placed the bushel in your passenger seat and headed to work.

Your coworker was in today, a nice rarity when he wasn't with his band. He watched as you brought in the display of flowers, pale blues and white arrangement making it's spot on the front desk as you sat beside it.

"Y/n, what the actual hell?" Ace exaggerated, the makeup from the night before still apparent on his face.

"Flowers, why?" You acknowledged, enthusiasm hidden as you stole a sip of his coffee.

"No shit sherlock, from who?" His voice dripping with concern as he watched, the gears in his mind turning.

You shrugged, and waited for the topic to pass. Yes, you had a secret admirer; but that wasn't apart of the big picture right now.

"So, where have you been." You interrupted, his interrogation.

"Tourin'," His words cut short, as he ran his hands through the green and black hair. He was a secretary, a pretty face to greet people so while you had no care why he was gone. Though being gone for almost two months? That was concerning, but Ace had a way to spin a tale. As you leaned against the cool counter, the marble against skin as he tries to explain.

The ringing of the door pulls you both from the deep conversation. Your laughter soothing as you turned towards the door. There stood Simon, whos hulking figure took up the frame of the doorway. The light haloing him from the late-morning sun.

"Mornin'" He slithers back to your booth, enticing you to follow.

"Simon, did we have an appointment cause I didn't make a stencil and----" You implored, was it just due to the stress that you may have forgotten or did you get the day wrong...

"Jus' a walk-in love,'" His voice seemed softer than it had in the past, he sets down a few snacks in-front of you and leans against the worn leather chair. "Do wha' ever I don't care"

Eyes wide with joy as you go grab a design you've been meaning to do. The soft designs normally would have him bartering for better, today he simply nods as he turns his head and situates himself onto the chair.

"Y/n, don't make me look stupid." His threat vague as you began the design from the nape of his neck.

The hum of a tattoo gun creates a perfect harmony to the one on your lips. Neither one of you caring about the brief intimacy of the moment.

Ace, come in to bring back your drink. His mossy green eyes matching with Simon's abyss-like ones, if he didn't know better he'd think that Simon was running through murder scenarios.

Why wouldn't he though, stranger in his girls shop, his favorite shop. As you halted that mind-numbing noise to grab your drink, Simon sitting upright following you.

"Who's that wanker?" He said in a huff, as he stretched his massive arms.

"Secretary, if he'd actually work." You affirmed, a laugh escaping your lips as you do so.

"Why ya need that?" He further inquired, desiring any insight.

" 'Tch, I hate waiting at the desk, and he needed work." The simple response wasn't enough for Simon, he needed to know everything that led to the choice now. Making a mental note to dig further when he returned home. Nonetheless, he pulled back his interrogation.

After an hour he finally was done, the mirror held to see the scruff of his neck. A symbol for radioactivity, that adorned him now. He wanted to laugh at the thought but he smiled and handed you a wad of cash.

He left in his normal hurry, snacks that he bought for you still on the counter as the bell rings and door closes.

"Explain," Ace stared at you, as if you had any clue of what his deal was.

"He comes in, lets me do whatever within reason and leaves" A shrug escapes your shoulders as you clean up. Seeing a receipt on the ground, you reach down.

The Bouquet Bar

Note: Currently dealing with midterms and medical issues, I will update as much as I can <3 🎱

[sunshinesickies]

Not proof read. Just wanted to get something out for the last day of Feveruary. Don’t worry I will catch up to the days I missed. Been a hell of a couple weeks, but hopefully life will smooth out enough soon for me to have some actual time to write! For now enjoy this fic of Vi on her period and Cait fussing over her. Based on two requests I had in my inbox for Vi on her period, one request by 🧸anon and another anon request. (Also I’ll add a picture later)

Feveruary Day 28— “Well it sounds to me like you need a bit of TLC”— CaitVi/Violyn

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of violence and prison

“Shit again?!” Vi groans as she curls into herself, wrapping her arms tightly around her abdomen. A uncomfortable pain was shooting through her once again and it made her simultaneously nauseous and incredibly irritated. She hasn’t felt like this in, well, years.

Vi tries to think back to when she last had her period only to come up with nothing. She’d been 15 when she was unjustifiably taken to Stillwater, so she’d known about and gotten them for a while. She can remember getting them a few times in prison, but she doesn’t want to think about that.

When you’re in a place like that, there was nothing provided to women during their cycles, only what they could scrap up, and even so, showing any sort of weakness usually meant you were to be beaten to a pulp later. But after her first few months there’s…nothing. She can’t recall having it again.

So yeah, periods in prison sucked, though Vi doesn’t understand why her cramps feel so bad this time. Maybe because they were often drowned out by the stinging pain of the guards’ sticks against her body, or maybe its because she’s grown a little weaker now that she’s living a cushy life in Kiramman estate.

Either way. This fucking sucks. Vi moans again as a fresh wave of cramps shoot through her. Her head is thumping, her body aches and she wants nothing more than for this to be over. Sometimes she hates being a woman.

Currently Vi is curled up on a cozy bed she found in one of the Kirammean’s smaller guest rooms. Yeah. Guest rooms. Plurals. She supposes this is one time she doesn’t think they’re a waste of space.

She’s trying to both hide from her girlfriend and from her own misery. If she could just fall asleep then maybe she could wake up and feel better, sleep off the rest of the pain. But every time she gets close to sleep, some random symptom (usually more cramps) keeps her up.

She knows she probably shouldn’t be hiding this from Caitlyn, but she can’t help it. Vi hates feeling weak. And right now she’s pretty sure she can’t even stand which is pissing her off to no end.

Taking in a calming breath, something Caitlyn has been having her work on whenever she gets frustrated, she squeezes her eyes shut tightly and tries counting as a way to distract herself.

She’s not sure how much time has passed, nor what time it even is. She’d woken up in the morning feeling terrible and somehow gotten herself out of the room without waking Cait up. The curtains in the guest room are drawn closed so tightly that the only light comes from the crack under the door to the hallway.

A gentle creak and the sound of soft footsteps soon pull Vi from her thoughts and she stiffens, hoping not to be found. She knows those steps.

“Violet? Are you in her darling?” Caitlyn’s gentle voice calls a second later and judging by the tone of her voice, Vi knows there’s no use to keep hiding. Plus her girlfriend’s voice was so soft, so warm, that Vi wishes she could sink into its invisible embrace.

“mmno.” Vi murmurs into the pillow she’s clutching and her body softens slightly when she hears an amused chuckle come from across the room.

“Vi? What are you doing in here?” Caitlyn makes her way over to the bed, squinting her good eye to try and make out Vi’s form curled up on the mattress. “Took me ages to find you.” She added, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Kinda the point.” Vi grumbled before curling more into herself with a slight wince, a motion that doesn’t go unnoticed by her attentive girlfriend.

“Are you alright, are you sick?” Caitlyn worries, a small crease forming between her brows.

“Mmfine.” Vi answers but Caitlyn doesn’t buy it for a second. “Vi.” She presses gently but in her no nonsense manner and Vi sighs deeply.

“On my fucking period. Don’t ’member it sucking this much.” She complains even though she hates admitting it. Caitlyn gives a sympathetic hum. “Poor love. Why didn’t you tell me, we’ve got painkillers and pretty much anything else you need.” She offers softly and the thought of having such access to these basic things makes Vi blink rapidly before any betraying tears can slip out.

“Don’t need ‘em. Please don’t make a fuss, Cait. Been through worse.” She answers curtly before she can break down. Caitlyn is slightly taken aback by the sharpness of her tone and she takes a breath, softening her response in her mind before her answers.

“I wont fuss, Vi, and I know you have but…well it sounds to me like you need a little TLC. Let me help? Please.” Caitlyn hums gently as she tucks a strand of hair away from Vi’s eyes.

“Okay…I guess it’d be nice to not feel this sucky.” Vi begrudgingly agrees and Caitlyn frowns as she cups Vi’s face. She isn’t overly warm but there’s some sweat around her temples that lets her know she really is miserable. Plus if she’s agreeing to take meds, Caitlyn knows she’s feeling worse off than she wants to let on. Sure periods are the worst, but Vi’s never mentioned having symptoms this bad, but come to think of it, she can’t remember Vi ever mentioning her period even though they’ve been together a few months now.

“Violet?” An inquiry strikes her attention. Vi hums for her to continue. “When was the last time you had your period?” She asks gently, curiously. Vi shrugs as she begins to sit up, groaning as she moves.

“Dunno…years, maybe?” Her response has Caitlyn completely taken aback this time. “That’s—well that’s interesting. I wonder if your body has been in too much stress for so long that it hasn’t had one, and now that you aren’t constantly watching your back or trying to just survive, that it’s hit you again with full force and then some.” She rambles her idea out loud and honestly, that makes sense to Vi.

She just wishes it weren’t so painful and annoying. “Well it better not be like this every month.” She sighs. “I’m sorry, Vi. Is there anything I can do to help?” Caitlyn hums and Vi looks up to meet her concerned, loving gaze.

“Maybe for now…could you just be with me?” Vi almost whispers, her tone bordering shy in a way that tugs at Caitlyn’s heart.

“Of course my love. There’s no where else I’d rather be. Come here, we can lay here for a bit, but soon I do think it best to get some meds in you.” She tries and Vi nods as Caitlyn moves to sit behind her. Vi settles closely into her girlfriend’s loving arms and for a moment, all the pain dissolves as she sinks into her hold. Caitlyn now has one hand slipped under her shirt, resting on her stomach as she traces soothing circles to her skin. Her other hand finds it way to Vi’s soft pink hair, her nails gently scratching her head.

“Thanks, cupcake.” Vi hums contentedly, the two comforting sensations quickly lulling her into a state of bliss. “Always, love.” Caitlyn leans down to press a kiss to her plush pink lips.

It doesn’t take long for Vi to finally fall asleep, feeling cozy and relaxed in her girlfriend’s loving hold. Periods be damned…though maybe it isn’t so bad. As long as Caitlyn is by her side, Vi feels as she can get through anything.

[qvert]

Hail the Dictator Era ™

[animamii]

"Fushiguro, that's your girl?" One of Toji's block mates asks, eyeing one of the many pictures Toji had of you taped to the slate gray brick wall. It was a simple picture, your hair was wavy in this one, a cute dimply smile, lashes curled as you looked all natural. But god, were you still stunning. Toji looks up from the thing he was doing, sitting in the steel chair that was bolted down to the floor.

"Yup, that's my ol' lady," looking up at the picture he can't help but proudly smile. Toji's wall is covered in pictures. Of you, of Megumi. The whole family. Cute pictures you took with each other before he got locked up. It was his motivation to stay straight while being inside. To remind him of what's waiting for him when he gets out.

The block mate lets out a low whistle, nodding approvingly as he leans back against the cold wall. “Damn. She bad.” His celly's eyes roam over the pictures. Ones where you're dressed up all pretty, makeup done perfectly. Ones where you're wrapped around one of Toji's arms, looking up at him with all the adoration in the world. Even the ones that show just a little too much, which Toji keeps right next to where he lays his head.

Toji chuckles, shaking his head. “Watch it.” There’s no real threat in his voice, but there’s an edge of warning that makes the other guy hold his hands up in surrender.

“Ain’t mean no disrespect, Fushiguro,” he says, still looking at the pictures. “Just sayin’. You lucky.”

Toji doesn’t need to be told that. He already knows. It’s what gets him through the long nights, the endless hum of fluorescent lights, the hostility of the barbed wire that separates him from the outside. Knowing you're out there, waiting, is the only thing that keeps him from losing his damn mind.

He leans back against the desk he sits in front of, arms folding across his broad chest, eyes fixed on the pictures. His ol’ lady. His girl. His anchor in a life that never gave him much stability.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips. He can still hear your voice, that soft, teasing lilt whenever you’d call him by his full name just to mess with him. “Toji Fushiguro,” you’d say, dragging it out, pretending to scold him, even though your eyes always gave you away. He lived for those moments.

“Bet she writin’ you, huh?” the block mate asks. “You get letters?”

Toji nods. “Every week.” And he does. Neatly folded pages that smell like you, inked with words that remind him that he’s still human. That he’s still yours. That he still has something waiting for him beyond these walls. But god, does he miss you.

“Damn,” the block mate mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “Every week? That’s real love right there.”

Toji just smirks again, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper, edges worn from being opened and closed too many times. He doesn’t even need to read it again—he’s already memorized every damn word—but still, he unfolds it, running a calloused thumb over the handwriting. Your handwriting.

Hey, baby. I know you hate when I get all mushy, but I don’t care. I miss you. I miss you so much it drives me crazy sometimes. But I’ll wait. However long it takes, I’ll wait. You better be eating, staying out of trouble, and keeping that smart-ass mouth in check. (Okay, maybe not too much. You know I love that about you.)

Toji chuckles to himself, shaking his head. Yeah, you knew him too damn well.

Megumi misses you too, even if he acts all tough about it. You should’ve seen his face when I told him your letter came. He’s just like you, y’know? Won’t say how he really feels, but it’s all there in his eyes.

Toji swallows hard, jaw clenching. Megumi. His kid. Another reason for pushing through this hellhole. He pictures him—too serious for his own good, but with those same sharp blue eyes. His boy.

“Yo, Fushiguro,” another voice calls out, snapping him from his thoughts. One of the guards. “Mail just came in.”

Toji is already up before the guy even finishes his sentence, heart pounding just a little faster. The guard hands the baby pink envelope with a lazy flick of the wrist, and Toji snatches it up quick, already recognizing the familiar scrawl of his name across the front.

His block mate lets out a laugh. “Man, look at you. Actin’ like a kid on Christmas.” Toji was always stoic, kept to himself and never showed much emotion. But hey, you always brought it out of him and he wasn't gonna front or hold a facade when it came to how he felt about you.

Toji doesn’t respond. He just sits back down, thumbs sliding under the flap of the envelope, tearing it open like it’s the only thing keeping him breathing in this godforsaken place. The first thing that falls out is a polaroid. His breath catches. It’s you.

You're sitting by a window, sunlight spilling over your skin, that soft, gentle smile on your lips. His girl. His sweetheart. Looking at him like she sees something in him that even he has trouble believing in sometimes. And just like that, the walls of the prison don’t feel so damn suffocating. He’s got something to hold onto.

Toji runs a thumb over the polaroid, like he could somehow feel you through it. The picture is warm, soft, a stark contrast to the cold steel and concrete around him. He exhales through his nose, staring at it for a long moment before finally unfolding the letter.

Your words hit him like they always do—gentle, teasing, but full of something deeper. Something that reminds him why he’s still holding on.

Hey, baby. I hope you’re not making the guards’ lives too hard. (Who am I kidding? I know you are.) It’s been getting colder here. I keep stealing your hoodie, the one you always say is yours but smells like me now. Tough luck, Fushiguro, it’s mine until you come back and take it from me.

Toji smirks, shaking his head. She’s gonna pay for that one.

Megumi’s been doing good in school, but I had to threaten to ground him just to get him to eat something other than instant ramen. He’s stubborn, just like his old man.

His smirk fades a little. He can picture it—Megumi sitting at the dinner table, arms crossed, trying to act like he doesn’t care. Just like Toji used to. The guilt settles in his chest, heavy and unshakable. He just wishes he could be there. For the both of you.

We miss you. I miss you.

He stops, lingering on that line. Simple, but enough to send a slow ache through his ribs.

I don’t care how long it takes. You come back to me, Toji. We’re waiting.

Toji exhales sharply, pressing the paper between his fingers, his grip a little too tight.

“Damn,” his block mate mutters, watching him. “She really ridin’ for you, huh?”

Toji just nods. He doesn’t need to say anything. He folds the letter carefully, tucking it away with the others. Getting up, he sticks some tape of the back of the polaroid, putting it up next to the rest of the pictures. Then he leans back in his chair, looking up at the mosaic of pictures you send him.

Yeah. She’s waiting. And he sure as hell isn’t gonna let her down.