#turns out if you have fun other people will too!

[redflagshipwriter]

SNITCHES THE CAT SEQUEL pt1 and masterpost

Part Two/Part Three/ Part Four/ Part Five

Part One

“This you?”

Danny pushed the newspaper down without looking at it, revealing Sam’s shitty grin. “That lost cat is not me, no.” He rolled his eyes. They had been showing him lost pet ads ever since he got back from Gotham. “Isn’t that joke getting old, guys?” He kicked his way further into a slouch in the booth as Tucker came back with refilled drinks.

Tucker laughed, and then there was a silence. “Danny? Are you sure this isn’t you, man?” He sounded uncertain.

He felt his jaw twitch and he had to tell his friend off. “Is it that funny that there’s a sad kid out there? Honestly, guys-” Danny opened his eyes fully to roll them and then saw the lost pet ad being brandished in his face. He blinked at it. His brain did a full reboot and he reached out to take the paper. 

It looked like him, sleeping on the cushion in the batcave. Had they gotten that photo from the security footage? “It’s me.” His voice came out way too high.

Danny pulled the paper over in disbelief and realized that it was a two page ad. “Oh wow,” he said faintly. There he was, leaping across the kitchen. And there, that must have been taken by Damian when he fell asleep on the bed. There was a cat toy partially in the frame.

Sam’s snorting laughter cut off. “Uh.” She kicked him lightly under the table. “Is.. Is that little kid going to be okay?” She asked in a small voice. She sounded like she felt bad for poking fun. 

Danny felt guilty. He stared at the evidence that Robin was missing his cat terribly and felt like the biggest jackass possible. “Should I go back?” he wondered. He squirmed, pulling a foot up onto the bench to perch on. “I mean… How long does a cat live? A few years?”

“Try about twenty,” Tucker said flatly. “I feel bad too, man, but you can’t defer admission that long.”

“Though Snitches was clearly not a little kitten, so you could really just give it a couple years,” Sam mused. Both boys stared at her. She blinked. “Not that I’m suggesting you do that!” She waved her hands at them. “The longer you stay with him, the harder he’s going to take it when his pet ‘dies’,” she said with finger quotes. “You did the right thing by leaving as soon as you could.”

“Maybe we could answer it, do a photoshoot, tell him that Danny was your cat or something and he’s come home,” Tucker mused. “He’d be sad that he couldn’t have the cat, but surely it would be better than worrying the cat died, right?”

“What are you losers talking about?” Star said, giving their booth a wide berth. “You’re not hurting cats now, are you, weirdos?” She eyed them like they were gross. “It would figure.”

“Fuck off,” Sam said pleasantly. All three of them gave Star a rude gesture in unison, just like they had practiced. “That shit’s uncalled for.”

Star sniffled and turned away on her heel, cheer skirt flouncing behind her. A few moments later she clearly reached her table because the sounds of popular kid conversation got a lot louder.

“She should be a reporter,” Sam said darkly. “I would love for her to get sued for slander.” She snapped open her clutch and began applying even more black eyeliner, as if that would differentiate her from the other girls in the restaurant.

Tucker groaned and pulled his hat down over his eyes in despair. “That’s gonna be a bad rumor,” he complained. 

Danny couldn’t find it in him to care as much as he usually would. He was still stuck on the fact that Damian had put an ad in the Illinois Times. “Do you think he realized that Snitches got on a highway bus to Illinois?” he hissed, now aware that other people might be listening in. “How would he know that?”

Sam frowned. Tucker lifted his head and pulled out his phone to search. “That’s a good question,” he said to himself. He hit buttons rapidly. “Uh, same ad is in…” He trailed off. “Hold up, hold up, lemme search this backwards…” Whatever he saw had him raise his eyebrows high, look at Danny in disbelief, and then shake his head slightly. “You must be a really good cat. I'm kind of jealous.”

“What?” Danny hissed. “Just tell me.”

“Hey, hey, paws off.” Tucker moved his device further away. “Uh, this poor kid- well.” He paused. “Poor is the wrong word. He’s put ads in newspapers all the way up to Ontario and down to… Well, in Mexico at least.”

Danny and Sam stared at him in disbelief. “You’re fucking with us,” Sam said after a long moment.

Tucker silently shook his head. “There’s a nationwide Greg’s list ad,” he said grimly. “20 dollars an hour to print and staple missing cat photos to telephone poles. And a private detective’s agency on the case, asking for witnesses to come forward.”

Danny put his head in his hands. “I have to go back,” he said, haunted by the responsibility. “I can’t let him be this sad.”

“Danny, no.” Tucker said. Sam nodded her agreement. 

“…Yeah, that’s crazy,” he said unconvincingly. He gave a fake laugh. “He’ll get over it.” Danny stared into his drink, watching bubbles. Robin was not going to get over it. That kid loved hard.

“I could use 20 dollars an hour,” Tucker said in a thoughtful tone.

“No,” Sam said flatly.

Tucker shrugged, smiling slightly. “I wonder how much I’d get for bringing you back.” He shrugged theatrically. “You could send me to college, man! Don’t you want me to go to college?”

“No…” Danny said weakly. “I… Is that fraud?” Still. Money would be nice.

“Guys, no.” Sam knocked them both in the head with the pile of napkins. “You can’t do that to this little kid. He’s clearly not well.”

“Exactly,” Tucker argued passionately. “Imagine how happy he would be to get his cat back! We could reunite him with his pet!”

It was tempting. He felt, like, so bad about how sad Robin was. The little guy had been so proud of his pet. Danny could spare a few years to make a little kid happy, right? It was kind of greedy otherwise.

Danny stared at the bubbles in his drink again, really thinking it over. “I think I would have to fight crime with him,” he said dully. “That’s a minus.”

“Danny?” Sam rapped the table with her fingers. He looked up to see her pointed eyebrow raise. “What are you talking about?”

He hunched his shoulders up. “Nothing, nothing,” he lied hastily. He forgot they didn’t know. He couldn’t dox someone’s crime fighting identity, though, it would be really unfair. 

“You could buy me a house,” Tucker wheedled. Sam hit him.

[rainydayathogwarts]

Love at first sight - Sirius Black

summary: lily's sister who goes to beauxbatons throws the party of the summer which sparks likely friendships, and an even likelier romance. wc: 2.3k

Lily came into the Great Hall the same way she always did: a determined look on her face, chin lifted up confidently, carrying overflowing papers in her arms, but something was different. Those paper she carried? They weren’t filled with head girl applications or polished assignments, no, they were party invitations.

She sat at her usual seat, and as per usual, the marauders ruffled through her papers. “Party invitations?” Whispered Sirius excitedly, as though it was something secret. Lily puffed her chest out “Y/n’s throwing a party, and encouraged me to extend the invitations to some Hogwarts students.” James cleared his throat to stop himself from choking on his tea. “I’m sorry? Your parents are letting you throw a party? The same two people who didn’t let you come over to Marlene’s tea party?” Lily grinned widely. “Well, y/n only comes home during the summers. I’m there every winter and spring break , so she kind of has a way with our parents. All she had to say was ‘this is our last summer before we graduate’ and she had them.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Marlene cut in, her face lighting up, “If this is y/n’s party, does this mean it’s going to be filled with sexy french kids?” Lily nodded happily, sharing a look with the other marauders. It was going to be the party of the year.

You and Lily were the epitome of opposites. You’d engrossed yourself in getting to know all the kids in the neighborhood and quickly because friends with your french neighbour, while Lily only befriended one — Severus. By force of being around the young boy, you’d learned his language, his language which quickly became your own. Whilst you and Lily had your own friends, no one was closer to you both than each other. You were twins, not only blood brothers but best friends. Due to your linguistic talent, you’d not only received a letter from Hogwarts on your eleventh birthday, but from Beauxbatons too. Petunia, ever so jealous of your relationship and your magic, had duped your parents into sending you away.

Petunia had ran off crying, locked in her room alone until she formed the plan of the century to break your relationship with your twin apart. “Well, they’re always together. Isn’t it better for them to learn how to live apart from each other?” And your parents had fallen for her trick. Now, you only saw each other during the summers, and your relationship was stronger than ever. But things would soon change.

The only thing Lily heard of for the rest of the day was this party. Who was she inviting? How many people would be there? “Sirius, it’s not my party. I don’t know the details. All I’ve been told is that I have these invitations to give out to people.” Sirius stared at the front of the boldly decorated invitation on the top of the pile which read in a glittery font ‘No invite, no entry!’ He ran a rough estimate in his mind and decided there had to be at least seventy invitations in the stack of papers. “Can I help give them out?”

Lily and Sirius had proudly made up a list of who to invite, or not to invite, the rest of the marauders eventually gathering around to put in their own two cents. When the invitations had been given out, Lily returned to her dorm whilst the marauders all sat in front of the black lake, soaking up the limited sun rays whilst staring at their own invitations. “This is some high end decor.” Commented Remus, turning his invitation in his hands. The fonts had been carefully chosen, and a textured disco ball sat in the centre of the page. “Yeah, according to Lily, y/n loooves to party.” Marlene added, laying on her back. “I’m excited to meet her,” started James “She sounds fun, and we barely ever hear about her from Lily.”

Sirius hummed, gears turning in his brain. “Lily said they’re nothing alike.” He recalls. It was true. You and Lily weren’t only opposites in terms of personality, but looks too. Despite being twins, you had taken all of your father’s genes while Lily took after your mother. No one ever believed you when you said you were twins, let alone siblings.

The party was nearly an entire month later. The marauders found themselves outside an ordinary muggle house, glancing at each other nervously. Had they arrived too early? Marlene glanced down at her invitation, ensuring that they were there right on time. A knock on the door and they were waiting. The door slammed open and they were met with you, a bright smile on your face and a tray in the other with an array of pink and blue jell-o shots. You weren’t the only thing that welcomed them, but the loud roar of noise from inside the house blasted them too. Remus cocked an eyebrow, thinking ‘That’s one mean silencing charm.’ “Grab a drink you guys!” You called, holding the door open with your foot as you moved to the side for them to come in. You introduced yourself over the noise, clueless to the mesmerised eyes following you.

Sirius let himself be dragged into the house by Remus, though his eyes followed you as you escaped into the backyard. Lily had been right, you weren’t nothing alike. You wore fishnets under your small denim shorts, your top exposing more than just midriff. He gulped, trying not to be caught staring at your breasts when you turned around, instead moving his gaze to the endless jewellery you wore.

Sirius heard himself gasp — apparently the french like to be early. The party in the backyard was lit, he finally noticed, with groups of people already playing beer pong, dancing to the music, and even exchanging light conversation. Lily ran to join them, trying to properly introduce you to her friends, but you were running back to the door as the bell rung once more.  Apparently everyone arrived at once, because a crowd of people suddenly flooded the living room. A mix of elegant french and fast english chatter filled the air, and Sirius saw Marlene’s jaw drop, already picking the girl she was going to spend the rest of the night flirting with. Just as Lily was about to catch you, you jumped onto the coffee table, pointing your wand to your neck with an amplification charm.

“Okay, listen up everyone!” You called out, and from within the crowd, Sirius caught your eye, his muscular arms thrown over two of his friends' shoulders. You hadn’t properly noticed him when he walked in, but now? You shook the thought out of your head. “We have about 200 wizards in this house. A house that you can tell is in a muggle neighbourhood! Now, my silencing charm may be great, but it doesn’t hide magical activity! So if we can keep the magic down to a minimum and get the party up to a maximum that would be great! Where’s my music!?” And suddenly the music roared to life. Sirius shoved to the front of the crowd, offering you a hand to help you down from the coffee table. You felt your stomach jump at his offer, the light reflecting off his silver jewellery. Instead of taking Sirius’s hand, you wrapped your arms around his neck, swinging your legs off the table. Sirius snaked his arms around your waist without missing a beat, spinning you around so you let out a joyous laugh. “And who might you be?” You asked, running your hands down his chest before letting them hang by your sides.

Sirius curtseyed, miming saluting you with a hat whilst very poshly saying “Sirius Black, at your service.” You giggled, putting both your hands on his bicep. “Hey, you met Sirius!” Lily cut in, bumping you with her hip. You met her eyes, and they glinted with mischief. She most definitely knew how attracted you were to Sirius in that moment. “Come meet the others!” She didn’t give you time to respond, instead tugging you away from the curly haired boy. You waved at him, yelling “I’ll see you later!” and then “Shut up” to Lily when you turned around. You didn’t have to look at her to know she was smiling like the cheshire cat.

James was the first to bring you into a hug, his hands respectfully patting your back. You turned to look at Lily, nodding in approval. Your introductions with Remus and Marlene were quick, witty comments given by each of them before Marlene so boldly asked “Hey, is that cute brunette over there into girls?” You laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Sweetheart, you’re going to have to be more specific, but for you? Anyone would be into girls.” Simple to say, Marlene turned bright red, and not because of the warmth the alcohol had given her.

When Sirius returned to the group, you were already gone, dancing with your friends. He threw his arms around James’s shoulders, resting his head on his best friends’s shoulder. “James, we’re going to be brothers in law!” The boy barked out a laugh, pushing Sirius away to look at him properly. “I’m in love with her James.” Remus laughed, slapping a hand on Sirius’s back. “Well what are you going to do about it buddy?” He asked, sharing an amused glance with James. “I’m going to convince her to come to Hogwarts. Wait! First, I’m going to make her fall in love with me!” Sirius frowned at his two friends’ loud laughs, muttering something like “I’ll show you.” But he didn’t have the chance to come find you in the crowd, because two pairs of hands were placed upon his shoulders, and you appeared, saying “Come dance with me.”

Sirius almost passed out at your offer, blindly following you onto the dance floor and missing the surprised look Remus and James shot each other. Apparently, you wouldn't need much convincing to fall for Sirius. Sirius took your hand, spinning you around, and you looking him up, looking around as though it would hide the bite of your lip. Sirius’s jeans were just tight enough around the crotch, and low waisted enough that every time he raised his arms too high, a sliver of his abdomen would show as his top would ride up. You spun around in Sirius’s arms, pressing your back against his chest. His hands trailed down to your hips, tugging them closer to his own. You giggled, moving your body alongside the music. Sirius groaned, whispering the lyrics in your ear, his hot breath hitting your sweaty skin.

The next time Sirius groaned, it wasn’t out of enjoyment, it was because someone had called out your name. “Viens avec nous? Just une cigarette!” (Come with us? Just one cigarette!) You had laughed at your friend’s words, shaking your head. “Non, il est trop beau, je ne veux pas le quitter!” (No, he’s so gorgeous, I don’t want to leave him!) Sirius hummed as you turned around in his arms, putting both your hands on his chest. “Come outside with me! Somewhere we can talk!” You grinned, sliding both your hands down in his, and letting him drag you outside.

You let Sirius guide you to a less crowded side of your garden, where you could people watch without being disturbed. You pushed Sirius against the wall of your backyard, watching as his eyebrows flew upwards in surprise. “So, Mr. Black, what would you like to discuss?” Sirius felt his heart surge, its pace quickening by the second, and he was sure you could feel it under your fingertips too. “Go out with me.” He heard himself blurt, and his eyes went wide at his own question. You laughed, looking around. “Aren’t we out right now?” The silence he left you with made you giggle, leaning your head forward on his chest. “I’m just joking.” Sirius shoulders slumped down in relief, hands loosely gripping your hips.

“I don’t want this to just be a little party flirt. I want to really get to know you. You… you seem cool.” You pressed yourself onto your tip toes, leaning forward to softly kiss Sirius. He sighed as you pulled away, chasing the kiss softly, but you refused to reconnect your lips. “I’d really like that.” Sirius smiled widely, pulling you flat against his body. “And hey, who knows, maybe you can show me around Hogwarts?” Sirius nodded, replying with “Yeah of- wait, what?” You straightened your back, cocking your head to the side. “Yeah, I’m moving to Hogwarts next year. Mum and dad finally had enough of me being so far away.” You interrupted yourself with your own laugh, pushing yourself off of him and looking around. “That’s what this is! My goodbye slash welcome party. Didn’t Lily tell you?” Sirius shook his head, stepping closer to you. “Well since I’ll be seeing more of you, can I properly kiss you now?”

Nodding at Sirius, you let him tug you closer to him, bringing you into a passionate kiss. You gasped at the force of his kiss, letting Sirius slide his tongue into your mouth. Moaning softly, you brought your hands up to cup Sirius’s face, pushing your body even deeper into his. “Oh my!” You pulled away from Sirius harshly, stumbling away from him. “I mean, I knew you guys had something going on, but I didn’t know it was going on.” You felt your face flush at Lily’s words, and heard Sirius cry out from behind you “Why didn’t you tell us she’s joining next year!?” James, from next to Lily, turned to face her, surprise overtaking his features. “I wanted to see how you guys got along before telling anyone!”

Remus approached the four of you, tipsily mumbling “Marlene has a roster of like three girls right now, and I just overheard some guy saying he wants to jump in the lake. I didn’t know there was a lake.” Remus stood silently, finally taking in the scene in front of him.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

taglist:

@ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe

[lazysoulwriter]

Yes, it's her. - Lewis Hamilton.

Summary: Y/N and Lewis Hamilton have always been spotted together, hand in hand, leaving people to speculate about their relationship. While they found the rumors amusing, Lewis wanted to make it official. It was just a simple request to date—no big deal—so why was he so nervous? With his usual charm and a lot of cheesy jokes, he takes a leap, hoping she’ll say yes.

The evening had started like any other. The two of you had ordered takeout and were sprawled on the couch, lazily scrolling through Netflix to find something neither of you would actually pay attention to.

“Rom-com?” Lewis asked, scrolling past 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Too predictable.”

“Action?” He paused on a Marvel movie.

“Too loud.”

“Horror?”

You shot him a look, and he smirked. “Too scary for you, babe?”

“I’m not scared. I just don’t feel like spending the night listening to you scream.”

He laughed, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. “Fine. No movie. Let’s just sit here and bask in each other’s presence.”

“Oh, how romantic,” you teased, pulling your legs up onto the couch.

Lewis shifted beside you, his knee bouncing ever so slightly. You noticed but said nothing. It wasn’t unusual for him to fidget—he was always full of energy—but tonight felt different.

“You okay?” you finally asked, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, of course,” he said quickly, his voice just a tad too high-pitched to be convincing.

“Lewis…”

He turned to you with a grin that was a little too wide. “What? Can’t a man enjoy some quality time with his favorite person?”

“Are you sure you’re not hiding something? You’re acting weird.”

“Me? Weird? Never.” He reached for his wine glass, taking a sip that lasted just a little too long.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you nervous about something? Did you crash another car?”

He nearly choked on his wine. “What? No! Why would you even say that?”

“Because the last time you acted like this, you accidentally ran over my potted plant with your electric scooter.”

He groaned, covering his face. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

He chuckled, but the nervous energy didn’t leave him. Instead, he leaned back, pulling you closer until your head was resting on his chest. His fingers played with the ends of your hair, and you could feel his heart beating faster than usual.

“You know,” he started, his tone lighter now, “the paparazzi think we’re already dating.”

You smiled, recalling the many headlines you’d seen: ‘Lewis Hamilton and Mystery Woman: Romance or Friendship?’ or ‘Spotted Again: Are They or Aren’t They?’

“They’re pretty creative,” you said. “Remember the one where they said we were secretly engaged?”

“Oh, and the one about us having a secret baby?”

You both burst out laughing, the tension in his body easing slightly.

“I mean, it’s kind of funny,” he said. “They’re all desperate to figure it out.”

“Well, let them keep guessing. It’s more fun this way.”

“Yeah… but what if we didn’t make them guess anymore?”

You froze for a moment, lifting your head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He cleared his throat, suddenly looking everywhere except at you. “I mean… what if we, you know, made it official?”

You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “Lewis, are you asking me out right now?”

His cheeks flushed, and he laughed nervously. “Okay, this is not going how I planned.”

“You had a plan?”

“Kind of. But then I got nervous, and now I’m rambling, and I don’t know why because this should be easy, right? It’s just… I like you. Like, really like you. And I know we’ve never called it anything, but I want to. I want to call you mine, officially. So… will you?”

For a moment, you just blinked at him, trying to process his words. Then, a grin spread across your face. “You’re such a dork.”

“Is that a yes?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “Of course, it’s a yes.”

The relief on his face was palpable, and he let out a dramatic sigh. “Thank God. I was about to start sweating.”

“You were already sweating,” you teased.

“Okay, rude.” He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But you said yes, so I’ll let it slide.”

Later that night, after the excitement had settled and you were both curled up on the couch again, Lewis grabbed his phone.

“What are you doing?” you asked, peeking over his shoulder.

“Posting something,” he said, his tone casual.

You groaned. “Lewis…”

“Relax, it’s nothing big.”

He showed you the screen. It was a photo he’d taken of you earlier that evening, laughing mid-bite of your dinner, entirely candid. The caption read: “Yes. It’s her.”

You covered your face with a pillow. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he said, grinning as he hit post.

You couldn’t argue with that.

[aimfor-theheart]

write the ex gf vi mini skirt fanfic request and my life is YOURS

ANON YOUR LIFE IS MINE!!

wc: 1.9k bro what the hell

tags: i imagine this as a grad school au or a modern/non fantasy au. reader is femme/wears a skirt and is called 'princess'.

cw: suggestive. ex-girlfriend!vi but you're both still really into each other lol.

***

the night is young and blue. you feel good—buzzing with a little excitement and confidence. the top you’re wearing clings to you in all the ways you love, fits right where you like it to, and your skirt is cropped all short with a little ruffled edge.

its sweet. coy. flirty.

you’re out with friends at some late night joint where the food is fried and the drinks are cold. the group is rather big—over spilling from one booth into the other where people come and go, flitting from one group to the other to chat and joke around. you're all around the pool table, where you and mel have started a game of pool against jayce and viktor.

you’re having a good night despite the fact that your ex-girlfriend is here.

vi is nursing a beer, lingering beside her sister—who keeps flitting around to socialize—and ekko. they're vaguely watching your game of pool.

unfortunately, the disadvantage of dating someone in your close group of friends, is that when you split up, she’s still at every event and night out.

you both said you’d play nice tonight.

and you have been. you haven’t snipped at each other. you haven’t ignored each other, either, but tonight—

you're feeling a little bold. looking for a little trouble (much to the frustration of all of your collective friends. ekko had promised he'd keep vi on a tight leash tonight but, well, that's no fun.

you're testing your luck.)

and maybe your skirt is getting a little short.

a peek of lacy panties never hurt anyone.

(maybe except for jayce, who regards you with sibling-like affection, and whose mortified when you bend over the edge of the pool table to line up the shot. your panties, dark beneath your skirt, peak out. his eyes go skyward. viktor snickers and mel pats his arm.)

you and mel are beating jayce and viktor in your game of pool. occasionally, ekko is ribbing the guys for losing. you watch as the balls clink together, rolling around, before coming to a gradual stop. it's your turn again.

"tough luck." vi says, "winning streak may be over, princess."

ekko elbows her for the petname.

it is a tough shot. it's a bad angle.

you give her this little sneer, but it's toothless—doesn't actually have a lot bite. "you forgetting i always kicked your ass in pool?"

"and who taught you how to play?" she says, quick and easy with it. she's grinning a little, too, and you're careful not to look at her too much. your heart still stutters a little despite it.

you huff and roll your eyes and respond with a bratty little, "jinx taught me better than you."

and then you take position at the end of the table, setting your hips against the wood and leaning forward on top of it, pool stick in hand as you line up the shot. and leaned over the table like this, your top low—cleavage spilling out against the felt green, you glance up at vi.

she's eyeing you dark and hungry, watching you through the thick bend of her lashes.

you swallow, focus back on the game.

you aim, pull back, and—

the white ball cracks against the wall and then against the midnight blue one, sending it careening into a nearby pocket.

you bounce up as everyone audibly reacts around you—mel cheering, jayce and viktor in awe. ekko laughing. jinx shouts in surprise. and vi curses a little.

“you see that?” you ask her, smile curling at your lips.

she takes a sip of her beer, “i saw it, hotshot. let’s see if you can do it again.”

“just makin’ sure your eyes were on the game.” you quip back and ekko coughs a little into his drink. you turn away from vi, before you can see the look on her face, but you can feel her eyes on you. burning.

you bite back a grin.

you set yourself up to take the next shot; there's only one ball left until you and mel can sink the eight ball. you press your hips into the pool table again and slowly lower yourself onto it.

behind you, you can almost feel vi's gaze, dark and heavy. your skirt rides up, revealing a peek of your panties—

black and surprisingly delicate, the lacy pattern intricate. and vi should know there's a little bow on the front of them.

she knows because she got them for you.

(something yawns open inside of vi, cavernous and wanting; a little wild and hungry. she thinks about coming up behind you, thinks about pulling your skirt down a little so no one else gets a peek, or plastering herself all over your back.

she thinks about bending you over the pool table and—)

you sink this ball into the pocket, too, on fire.

you bounce up, cheering, as the guys start to groan. ekko says, "that's a wrap, guys."

you miss the eight ball shot, but mel, on her next turn, easily ends the game. jayce and viktor owe you both another round of drinks.

and soon after, you're sipping on a mixed drink, too sweet and too strong. cloying. it sits on the back of your tongue.

you excuse yourself to the bathroom at some point when the liquor is hitting you a little more and you're flushed with warmth, giggly from your friends. and as you're drying your hands in the bathroom, alone, giving yourself a cursory check in the mirror, you hear the door open.

you pick your gaze up and in the mirror, you catch vi's eyes.

your stomach flips, a butterfly of nerves taking off inside you.

as she approaches, her form dark and broad—shrouding yours in the glass reflection as she nears, you turn over your shoulder to say, "what are you doing, vi?"

she cages you in against the sink, thick arms on either side of you. you feel the hard press of her belt, cold and metal, against the soft give of your body. your back is almost pressed to her chest. in the mirror, you watch her tongue swipe across her teeth. you trace the shape of her around your form—your own face, lips a little parted in surprise. hair tousled. the dark look in her eyes as she takes you in, too, takes in your reflection.

she smells familiar; soft, worn leather and amber. she feels familiar, too, having her around you again.

in the mirror, you catch her eyes.

your breath hitches a little and you force yourself to turn in her arms, to face her. you tip your chin up in that haughty little way that she used to love or hate. her eyes are hooded when you say, "vi—you can't be cornering me like this. we're not together anymore."

(it's a little coy around the edges. you play innocent well.)

you feel her knuckles against your thigh before you realize she's taken the edge of your skirt between finger and thumb. she rubs at the fabric a little, admiring it. her fingers are just underneath your skirt, just barely against your skin there. your head swims—you blame it on the drinks you had.

"then why are you wearing the underwear i bought you? that little, lacy black pair?"

you feel warmth hit your face, despite it all. you try to bite back, "and how would you know?

"think i wouldn't notice?" she asks, soft and husky, eyes clashing with yours, "hard to believe—the way you're acting in this little skirt, bending over in front of me, letting it ride up." you feel the back of her hand brush against your thigh. testing. trying.

"i don't know what you're talking about." you try to turn your nose up at her, looking away, but her other hand suddenly grabs your face. a little rough. a gasp is torn from you, even as she squeezes your lips into a little pout. you shudder as she presses into you harder. a little meaner. you fuss and squirm, trying to twist away, but she squeezes a little tighter.

bares down on you like a bad dog with a little bird in her mouth. pins you in place.

(vi rarely uses her strength on you, so much so that sometimes you forget—sometimes you're a little startled with the sudden flex of her muscles.

is the room spinning? heat swarms your face, your neck—down to your chest, hiccuping a little with breath. desire is a sharp, bright flicker inside you.)

"you know, if we were still dating, i wouldn't have let you prance around like this all night." vi says lowly and she's—she's got some sort of smile lurking in the corner of her mouth.

(a sort of wild amusement, watching you. watching your eyes blow wide and dark with lust, despite the way you try to fight her.)

"we're not—" you try to get out.

"i know," she says and it's almost just a hiss, a growl around the edges, her head dipping to your jaw, the corner of your throat. she angles your head away to give her room, to hold you in place. her lips don't connect with your neck, but your pulse jumps like she does, jumps like you want her to. "and ain't that a shame? i would've taken care of you already—pushed aside the panties i gave you and—"

the door to the bathroom suddenly shoves open.

in an instant, vi is gone, almost like she was never there in the first place. your chest heaves a little, warmth sitting high in your face as you grip the sink still, leaning against it. vi is a casual distance away now, leaning against the wall near the sinks, like she's waiting for you. like you were just talking. you have to take her in—the slight flush in her face, the fever-bright burst of her blue eyes, to know that she was affected at all.

someone else walks in, none the wiser. they head into a stall.

"you comin' home with me tonight?" vi asks, gaze searing, despite the way she keeps her voice casual. to anyone else, it might sound like a friend asking.

"vi—" you warn, as you finally gather your bearings enough to head towards the door. out of the bathroom. she's on your heels.

as you exit, and walk back towards your friends, she drops her hand to the back of your skirt. she tugs it down a little, so it sits lower on your thighs. you try to swat her away, but she catches your wrist, twists it a little to press it to your lower back. it doesn't really hurt—but you hiss and whine about it.

"let me go." you bite out.

her hand, wrapped tight around your wrist, falls away and you almost miss it. for a moment, she lingers near the edges of your skirt, around the curve of your thigh, before slipping away entirely.

she grins, slow and lopsided—sharp at the edges. and you'd know that smile anywhere on her; know how it tastes, how it feels against your thighs, or along the bend of your shoulder.

know it means trouble.

all you'd been looking for all night—in the bend of her smile.

"yeah, you're comin' home with me tonight, princess."

[gothcsz]

El Cumpleañero | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~8.3k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: It's Javier's birthday, so you show up to his party and things get fun.

Tags: friends with benefits dynamic, jealous!javi (can't help myself), flirting, dancing, javi is a little ooc here but idgaf i need him (in my head he's a bit younger in this au), some untranslated spanish, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), back shots for days, a lil bit of exhibitionism on javi's part, creampie, one use of a degrading term (slut), some dirty talk, pussy pronouns, facial, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, little to no physical descriptions of reader, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: hiiii everyone! this is my humble submission to @yxtkiwiyxt's never have i ever challenge with my prompt being never have i ever woken someone else because i was too loud during sex 🙈 kiwi bb tysm for hosting such a lovely writing challenge for us, i hope you enjoy this smutty fic! oh, and i am dedicating this one to @letsmeetintheafterglow, amorcito, you left such me a juicy request in my inbox for javi that i just had to write! so, i merged it with the challenge prompt 🖤 hope you dream of him tambien ☁️ also, i couldn't help but project my fantasy of wanting to dance to corrido/banda music with javier. i feel like he's actually a pretty good dancer! swinging ya around to the beat of the song with his hand at your lower back and a modelo in the other. ugh. the song la niña fresa basically inspired the nickname javi calls reader 🍓 and just sets the vibes, i think. as always, let me know that you think and thank you for reading 🖤

The backyard is buzzing with the chatter and laughter of what feels like half the town, the smoky scent of barbecue wafting through the air and the twang of a corrido blasting from oversized speakers, making the ground shake.

You walk through the fenced yard, the southern breeze grazing your skin as familiar faces nod or wave in passing. Your eyes scan the crowd, skimming past clusters of people dancing and conversing, all of them gathered to celebrate someone who swore he didn’t want a fuss.

Of course his family didn’t listen. They turned his “keep it small” request into a blowout, like they always do, inviting anyone and everyone. Not that he could stay mad—he never really does.

When you spot the man of the hour, the corner of your lips lift instinctively and your feet seem to move on their own accord, pulling you toward him.

He’s by the bonfire, the glow of the flames painting his chiseled features in shades of gold and shadow. He stands with his hip jutting out, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, sharing it lazily with two girls you barely recognize.

They hang on to his every little move, trying to soak up whatever attention he might spare. It’s a scene you’ve witnessed too many times, and you really can’t blame them.

You’ve been in their shoes (still are, truth be told), waiting for even a flicker of his focus to land on you, and you know all too well where that desperation led.

To his bed, on his tongue, his cock—you shiver at the memory, your nipples pulling taut.

He’s the kind of man who doesn’t have to try to make hearts ache; it’s just who he is.

A walking daydream wrapped in leather and indifference, with that devil-may-care grin that promises trouble and delivers every time.

You roll your eyes and huff sassily, detouring toward one of the coolers instead. You grab a drink, making polite small talk with a couple of acquaintances, though you can’t keep your gaze from wandering back to him.

He’s already looking at you.

It stops you mid-sentence the way his brown eyes are fixed on you, heavy with intention.

The cigarette is at his lips, the faint glow of its cherry pulses when he sucks in then lets out a ribbon of smoke. 

He makes it look so damn hot, it’s almost enough to persuade you into picking up the bad habit.

The curly haired beauty next to him is chattering a mile a minute, but it’s clear he isn’t listening.

His focus remains locked on you, sweeping slowly—mischievously—down the length of your body. You can feel it, as sure as a touch, lingering at the deep neckline of your sweater then on the way your jeans hug your curves. It’s shameless, but that’s him, isn’t it?

Your smile tilts into a puckish smirk. Lifting your hand, you wiggle your fingers in a small wave.

It’s like striking a match. His gaze narrows slightly as if he’s trying to decide his next move.

He hands off the cigarette with a casual flick of his wrist and shifts his focus back to the girl beside him. She’s still rambling, her words tumbling over each other in an eager attempt to hold his attention.

He doesn’t bother pretending to care. Instead, he lets out an indulgent chuckle, shaking his head like whatever nonsense just came out of her mouth is equal parts adorable and absurd.

You almost feel bad for her. It’s hard not to fall for that sleazy charm—especially when it’s attached to a man that’s so fucking handsome.

When she swivels to chat with her friend, his eyes immediately find yours again. A cocky expression paints his countenance, one that practically asks: What the hell are you doing all the way over there?

You entertain the idea of making him wait, savoring the power in holding his attention hostage for just a moment longer. But who are you kidding? The magnetic pull he has over you is impossible to resist. It always is.

The small box tucked snugly in the back pocket of your jeans presses against you as you weave through the crowd, sidestepping a few overly tipsy guests and slipping past the fold-out tables scattered across the lawn. 

“Hey,” you say, sliding yourself effortlessly between the two girls, not caring about interrupting their conversation. Immediately, their sharp side-eyes practically stab you with twin daggers of irritation.

You don’t flinch. You’re not here for them, anyway.

You only care about the pair of deep brown eyes that make you feel like you’re the only person in the world when he looks at you. “Happy Birthday, Javier.”

A flicker of what looks like smugness and amusement crosses his face as he licks his lips, taking another measured drag.

He’s dressed in a variant of his signature look—a white button-up with a few buttons let loose to show off his neck and the top of his chest, despite the brisk autumn air, and a worn brown leather jacket accentuating his broad shoulders.

However, it’s the ridiculous tiara perched atop his head that catches your eye, and the sight makes you frown ever so slightly when you notice the matching glittery ones on his groupies, like it’s some inside joke you’re not a part of.

For some inexplicable reason—it rubs you the wrong way. You can’t believe you’re slightly jealous of it. How stupid.

“Thank you, fresita.” 

Ugh, that infuriating nickname. You’d been charmed by it at first, assuming it was something sweet and impish. It wasn’t until Chucho let it slip that it’s also used to describe a woman that’s spoiled and picky that you realized it wasn’t just affectionate; it was also dig at your finer tastes.

And so what if you are a little high maintenance?

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, even though he loves coaxing it out of you. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, letting a soft undercurrent of flirtation lace your voice as you ask, “Mind if I pull you aside? I’d like to give you your gift.”

His interest is evident in the way his brow raises and the girls bristle slightly, their expressions shifting to thinly veiled jealousy once they realize he’s no longer focused on them. You captured him the moment he saw you amidst the crowd.

“We were just finishin’ up,” Javi says casually, dropping the cigarette and crushing it beneath his boot. He flicks a glance at the two disappointed faces, his smirk widening. “Con permiso, chicas. Thanks for the smoke.”

As he steps away from them, you feel a little triumphant thrill surge in your chest. They look deflated, their pouty expressions almost comical as they watch him leave with you, muttering goodbyes under their breaths.

The curly haired woman stares you down, and you try not to let the smug victory of whisking him away be too obvious… though you can’t help but smile condescendingly before fully turning away. 

“Some fan club you’ve got,” you tease once the two of you are finally alone, near the entrance of the sunroom that’s a part of the house.

He smirks, leaning against the siding and tilting his head, once more eyeing you down like you’re the finest thing he’s ever seen. “You jealous?” 

You scoff, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Absolutely not.” It’s a little white lie, since you had felt a twinge of that pesky envy, but you don’t want him to know that. He’d either give you shit for it, or on the more extreme end, rethink this arrangement he currently has with you.

And you’d rather not lose it. Not right now, at least. You’re having too much fun letting Javier fuck your brains out on a consistent basis. 

Slowly, you close the space between you, your fingers darting up to flick the tacky tiara perched on his head. “Cute.”

Before you can step back, his hands are on you—big and warm as they grip your waist and pull you flush against his chest.

The force of it has you sighing out in satisfaction. There’s something wholly fucking addictive about the way he handles you.

His hands know exactly where to place themselves, his fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure to set the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.

“No need to be, baby. You know you’re my favorite.” If your friends knew you were hooking up with the town slut, they’d definitely stage an intervention before you could finish your next sentence. Laying out all the reasons why letting Javier Peña into your bed was a one-way ticket to heartbreak city.

They’d call it desperation. They’d call it lowering your standards.

But what they don’t know is that standards start to feel awfully overrated when Javier has you pinned to a mattress, whispering filthy promises in your ear as his hands map every inch of your body. They don’t know what it’s like to have his full attention—his lips trailing worshipful kisses down your skin, his gravelly voice murmuring sweet nothings in Spanish that you don’t fully understand from how he slurs them together but feel all the same.

Being around him is electric, intoxicating, a high you’re not quite ready to give up.

So no, your friends don’t know. And as long as you can keep this thing between you and Javier your little secret, they never will.

“You gonna let me unwrap my gift or what?” His hand slides lower to cup your right cheek with shameless familiarity, giving it a frisky spank that makes you giggle.

This man and his obsession with your ass—it’s borderline ridiculous, and yet, you’re absolutely here for it.

“Later, maybe,” you reply with faux coyness, your finger dragging along his mustache then over to his pouty lips. He purses them, placing a kiss to the tip of your finger, “if you’re not too busy.”

His hold on your backside tightens, voice morphing into something more sultry, raspier, which is your absolute weakness. It makes your thighs rub together. “You know I always make time for you.”

You laugh softly at that. More often than not, you’re the one initiating while he only reaches out when it suits him. It’s not ideal at times, but you don’t get hung up on it.

You’re not about to ruin this by asking more of someone who doesn’t have it in him.

You reach back and pull the small box from your pocket. “Here’s your real gift,” you say, holding it out to him. Your voice softens, but there’s still a playful inflection. “Hope you like it.”

Curiosity fills those dark eyes as he takes the box, eyeing the tacky birthday wrapping paper with a soft smile. The sight of that grin on his face has your eyes morphing into hearts.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” you reply with a shrug. “But I saw it at the thrift store and just knew it had to go to you.”

You angle yourself to press a light kiss to the tip of his chin, your lips brushing against the stubble before you nip at it gently with your teeth. “Open it.”

His nimble fingers pull apart the crinkled folds of the wrapping paper to reveal the small box inside. When he opens it, you see his immediate delight, and your heart does a traitorous little flip.

The golden chain bracelet glints under the string lights strung along the roof’s edge, somehow making it look nicer out here than how it had been displayed at the store.

“Damn, this is nice,” he says, genuinely appreciative. The praise sends a faint thrill up your spine, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you watch him lift the bracelet out of the box to inspect it.

You’ve imagined how good the gold would look while his wrist is flexing as he grips your thighs, holding you open for him. Or when he’s feeling you up, rough and greedy, fingers digging into your soft hips as he takes your pussy how he wants.

“Put it on,” he holds his wrist and the bracelet out toward you. His tone carries that easy confidence, like he already knows you’ll obey without question.

Which you do, obviously. You carefully clasp it around his wrist, your fingers brushing his skin as you secure it, and that little brush feels like you’ve just snorted a line of adrenaline with how amped up your body gets.

“Looks good on you,” you admire your handiwork, though the truth is; he’d make anything look good. Even a paper crown. Or, you know, a tacky tiara.

“Gracias, fresita,” he replies smoothly, that familiar nickname rolling off his tongue.

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“Nah.”

Before you can come up with a witty retort, he pulls you against him again, One hand at your lower back, the other tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. His lips capture yours in a kiss that’s eager and completely unapologetic.

“Easy there, birthday boy—”

“Can’t help it,” he cuts you off, his voice rough against your lips. “Been waiting for you to show up all night.”

You can’t help but chase after that tasty mouth of his, your tongue licking against his, teeth biting into his lower lip and the slight tickle of his mustache makes you shiver. Then his hips grind against your thigh, his erection prominent, which in turn has heat flaring all over your body. 

“Let’s go inside,” he breaks away, tugging you toward the small steps leading into the sunroom.

You weren’t expecting to fuck him so early on in the night but you’re not about to complain about it. Every fiber of your body yearns for this man—but specifically your cunt. She’s obsessed.

The room looks like it’s in the middle of a renovation—a man cave in progress.

One wall boasts an unfinished bar, complete with half-empty bottles and shot glasses scattered across the surface. A brand-new pool table sits in the center of the room, its felt pristine, untouched by drunken games or spilled drinks. 

At the far end, a set of leather couches and a recliner face the large television set and entertainment center.

The double doors to the house are shut tight, leaving the room dim and private, save for the warmness of the string lights spilling in through the windows.

You’re caught up taking it all in when Javier sneaks up behind you, pressing hot, greedy kisses against your neck as his hands roam your body.

There’s nothing tentative about his touch—he cups your tits with both hands, squeezing them over your sweater as a deep groan rumbles in his throat. His need for you is palpable, a force that makes your knees weak even as he maneuvers you toward the pool table.

“Here, Javi?” you pant when he sucks at your weak spot under your jaw. “Let’s just go up to your room—”

“No,” he growls, spinning you around to face him, his dark eyes alight with lust. “Want you right here on this table.”

Before you can argue, his lips are on yours again. You let yourself melt into it, your hands reaching up to pluck the ridiculous tiara off his head and tossing it aside with a flick of your wrist.

His hair is soft under your fingers as you card through it, tugging lightly just to feel the way his body reacts, the way his kisses deepen in response.

When his tongue slides into your mouth, you surprise even yourself by wrapping your lips around it, sucking gently. You’re greedy and he loves it.

Javier’s grunt prompts your thighs to clench instinctively around him. His jacket hits the floor as he shrugs it off, lips trailing down your neck. You kick off your boots, his hands lifting you with ease to place you on the sturdy pool table.

Your sweater is gone before you know it. He’s in the middle of working on the button of your jeans, his fingers deft and impatient, when your eyes land on something that makes you freeze.

Or better yet, someone. There’s a figure slumped in one of the recliners at the far end of the room.

Your breath hitches, your body tensing. “Javi, stop.” Your words falter into a moan as his lips find your collarbone, sucking on your skin.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, barely pausing as he tugs your pants down your hips. Despite yourself, you lift slightly to help him, even as you frantically nudge your head toward the recliner.

“There’s someone here,” you whisper.

He stops, his head snapping up to follow your gaze. His expression shifts into a frustrated scowl when he sees the figure sprawled in the chair. “Goddamnit,” he mutters, reluctantly pulling away from you and heading over to investigate.

You watch as he approaches, his boots heavy on the hardwood. It’s his cousin Danny, completely passed out, his head lolling to the side and his mouth hanging open. Javier whistles sharply, snapping his fingers in front of his face. Nothing. He gives his shoulder a firm nudge once, twice—still nothing.

“Out cold,” Javier says, his tone both annoyed and amused as he turns back to you. “Took down almost a whole bottle of tequila earlier. He’s not gonna bother us.”

You hesitate, your eyes darting to the unconscious form. The idea of hooking up with someone uninvited in the room feels... complicated… exhilarating, maybe? You’ve never done it before.

But your reluctance evaporates the moment Javier closes the distance between you again, his hands sliding your jeans clean off, leaving you in nothing but your mismatched bra and panties.

He drinks you in, and the rest of the party—including the slumped figure in the corner—melts away under the weight of his attention.

No words are needed, not when he roughly tugs the cups of your bra down, letting your breasts spill free, nor when he dips his head, his stubble grazing your skin as his warm mouth captures one of your nipples.

Your breath catches, back arching your breasts into his warm, wet mouth. His tongue lazily circles and flicks over the hardened bud. Then he sucks harder, pulling a drawn-out moan from you before switching to the other side.

You bite your lip, determined to stifle the sighs of pleasure threatening to break. His knocked out cousin in the corner keeps you cautious, even as your body aches to let go.

Javier notices. Always does. He pulls away with a pop, a thin string of saliva connecting his pouty lips to your nipple. “Nu-uh,” he chides. “Don’t hold back.”

“I’m not trying to wake him up,” you counter, though your voice wavers from how good his mouth felt.

“You won’t,” he replies, almost dismissively, giving you a peck on the lips before he drops to his knees before you. He starts at your calves, leaving slow, deliberate kisses that send sparks dancing along your skin.

The faint scrape of his facial hair adds to the wonderful torment as his mouth works its way up, switching from leg to leg.

When he reaches the inside of your right knee, he kisses it almost sweetly, before dragging his tongue slowly in a hot stripe up to your inner thigh. You can’t stop the small shiver that ripples through you, your hands gripping the edge of the pool table for balance.

Javier finally reaches your pussy and you shudder as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed clit. The heat of his breath and the firm pressure of his lips through the cotton of your panties makes your back arch.

He hooks a finger into the fabric and pulls it to the side, diving in immediately. His tongue parts your folds, curling and slithering against your pearly clit before moving lower.

“Fuck,” you sigh, your hips bucking involuntarily, pressing yourself harder against his mouth.

He groans, enjoying how reactive you are, his fingers digging into the soft meat of your thighs while he holds you firmly in place. His mouth works with a singular focus, his tongue swirling and dipping into your entrance, then sliding back up to flick over your clit.

The feeling of his stupid mustache makes it that much better, scratching at your cunt lusciously. 

You can’t help it now—a soft, keening moan slips out of you, echoing faintly in the dimly lit room. Your head lolls around on your shoulders as pleasure coils at the pit of your stomach, the tension winding tighter with each stroke of his tongue.

“That’s it,” he practically purrs. “Let me hear you.”

His lips seal around your clit, sucking gently, and you swear it feels like you’ve been possessed—holding back is impossible. Another moan escapes you, louder this time, your thighs shaking in his grip as he devours you.

Javi pushes you over the edge so effortlessly that a cry of his name spits out of your throat before you can stop it, cutting through the room.

You're grateful this area of the house is directed away from the backyard, where the party celebrating him outside continues on, oblivious of his absence as he indulges in you.

Your orgasm settles like a heavy current, fingers nearly going numb from holding on to the pool table for dear life.

You’re still disoriented and flustered when Javier stands, looming over you, cupping the back of your head and bringing you in to passionately make out.

His mouth is coated in your tangy essence, making you taste yourself as he slips his tongue down your throat.

You whimper, clawing at his chest for more and he pulls away to turn you around, manhandling you onto your stomach on the table.

His hands are firm yet impatient as he grips one of your legs by the back of your knee and hooks it over the edge of the wooden border.

Javi stares down at your sex, partially exposed and glistening for him. Your panties are askew, one swollen pussy lip peeking out while a dark, damp patch spreads over the cotton where his tongue had devoured you moments ago.

“Fuck.” The lewd sight has him hastily undoing his belt and popping the button on his jeans, his dick hard and ready to bury himself inside your sweet cunt. 

Propping yourself up on your palms, you glance back at him over your shoulder, a teasing, blissed out smile playing on your lips despite the burning heat between your thighs. “I figured you’d want to savor me. Wait for later…” you coo, rolling your hips and causing your ass to jiggle, feeling giddy at how his eyes zero in on the motion.

“I savor you all the time, baby. Even during these nasty, quick fucks.” Him saying that has you over the fucking moon. “You can’t expect me to wait knowin’ this pussy needs me to fuck her real good.”

The hand adorned with your golden bracelet grabs your supple ass, kneading the flesh before landing a stinging spank that makes you jolt and let out a cry. The sharp sound carries, making your eyes flick nervously toward the recliner where his cousin still lies, unaware of the debauchery happening mere feet away.

Javier seems completely unbothered, casually toying with your panties as though you have all the time in the world. He hooks his finger into the soaked fabric, dragging it back and forth against your sticky folds, smearing your slick across your pussy lips.

Your hips move on their own, chasing the friction, and you bite your lip hard, trapping the needy moan building in your throat.

“Can I come over later?”

His question is so nonchalant it nearly makes you laugh, but the way he teases you has you too far gone to do so. You grind back against his touch, desperate for more, your lips parting in a breathy moan.

“Yes.” The thought of him showing up at your doorstep at three in the morning, bourbon on his lips, just for you to sink to your knees and take him down your throat makes your pussy clench around nothing, crying out for his cock as more of your arousal leaks against your panties. “Whenever.”

He hums in satisfaction, stepping closer and reaching for your jaw, tilting your head to the side roughly and meeting you for a kiss. The fabric of his shirt grazes your bare skin and he tugs your panties to the side again while his mouth continues to hold yours captive.

His cock nudges against your waiting entrance, teasing, the flushed head dragging over the fleshy cleft of your clit in languid taps.

When he finally pushes in, there’s no preamble—just the yummy stretch of him filling you to the fucking brim, shoving a strangled whine out of your mouth as he sets a brutal pace immediately, not giving you even a moment to adjust.

Your palms slip against the velvet of the pool table as you struggle to hold yourself up, but it’s no use. The force of his thrusts sends you collapsing forward onto your chest, scattering the neatly racked pool balls across the table.

They clatter and roll in all directions, but Javier doesn’t slow for a second. His grip on your waist tightens, forcing you to fuck yourself back on his dick.

“Shit,” he growls hoarsely, already breathless as he watches your ass bounce with every stroke. “You’re makin’ a loud fuckin’ mess,” he hisses, though there’s no real malice there—just straight horniness.

In one smooth motion, he grabs both your wrists with one large hand, pinning them to your lower back. He then angles your pelvis so that your clit is grinding against the smooth wooden border of the pool table while your tender nipples rub against the green felt.

The effects of that are immediate, your body feeling like it’s burning from the inside out. “Mmm, fuck yeah, keep doing that,” you moan desperately. 

The raunchy sound of your ass clapping against his thighs fills the room, a filthy rhythm accompanied by the feeling of his heavy balls brushing against your cunt. 

The noise feels impossibly loud, your whimpers and his grunts reverberating off the walls. Surely, his cousin will wake up—surely, someone will walk in on the shameless display Javier is putting on with your body.

Or maybe not, since Javier keeps fucking you all hot and wanton, especially when he hits your sweet spot and your ribbed, gushy walls hug around his dick like a vice.

Your forehead presses against the table as you chant his name, your vision swimming.

You try to glance toward the recliner where his cousin is passed out, but your eyes can’t focus. Everything’s a blur—two of everything, indistinct shapes swimming in the haze of your arousal.

The only thing you can truly focus on is Javier: the way his cock breaches your most intimate spaces, the heat of his body against yours, the sharp bite of his belt against the backs of your thighs.

You’re soaking him, ruining the hem of his half-buttoned shirt. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he’s splitting you open so perfectly, his tight grip on your wrists keeping you pinned and utterly open for him to take.

Your sore clit continues to rub against the smooth wood of the table, now sticky from how shamelessly you’ve been humping against it while chasing your pleasure.

Between the stimulation on your clit, the rough scrape of the felt against your sensitive nipples, and the relentless pounding of his shaft brushing your g-spot—it’s all too much. 

Your body trembles, a loud cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm slams into you.

"Javi!" you spasm in his hold, nails digging into your palms as your wrists remain trapped beneath his firm grip. shoulders burning from his rough hold.

Your pussy clamps hard around him, wet and creamy as you come, soaking his cock and leaving no doubt about how thoroughly he fucked you.

Javier curses through gritted teeth, switching between Spanish and English as he ruts into you, his rhythm stuttering. “Fuck, fresita, you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—just like that.”

He doesn’t falter, fucking you even as your orgasm settles over you like a heavy current.

He hauls you upright, pulling your back flush against his chest, his grip on your wrists unrelenting as he traps them between your bodies.

Both of his arms wrap tightly around your trembling frame, one hand sliding up to grab your tit, kneading it roughly while the other sprawls against your stomach and waist to hold you steady as he fucks up into you.

His mouth is at your ear now, his breath ragged. “Gonna bust inside this pretty pussy baby and you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

You nod weakly, biting down on your lip as your eyes flutter shut. “So fuckin’ willing to take my cum like a real slut,” the degrading name makes your clit twitch because he’s right—you are a real slut. Only for him. Always hungry and ready to please, to do anything to satisfy him and he knows it.

“You’re so goddamn perfect—fuck.” His hips jerk a few times before he groans deeply, his cock pulsing as he finishes deep inside you, his hold on your body tightening to the point where you wince but it hurts so good.

“What the fuck?”

The sharp voice cuts through the haze, yanking you back to reality. Your eyes snap open, and panic floods your system as you instinctively try to shield your almost-naked body.

Across the room, Danny sits up in the recliner, his hair a mess and his bleary eyes squinting in confusion. He looks like he’s been rudely yanked out of a drunken slumber, and unfortunately, it’s your fault.

Javier, of course, remains maddeningly calm. “Relax,” his voice still thick with that post-climax rasp as he mumbles in your ear.

Meanwhile, your body is burning—part embarrassment, part leftover heat from the sinful things Javier just did to you on this pool table.

You try to wriggle out of his grip, but his arms are like iron bands, keeping you firmly in place.

Danny rubs at his eyes, blinking hard as if trying to process what’s in front of him. His head tilts slightly, and for one horrifying second, you think he’s piecing it all together. But instead, he suddenly leans over the side of the recliner and starts retching, the sound loud and wet as he empties his stomach onto the carpet.

The sharp, acidic stench of vomit hits the air, mixing unpleasantly with the heady scent of sweat and sex. It’s enough to finally get Javier to loosen his hold.

He pulls out of you with a grunt, leaving you aching and exposed, and you both watch as his release starts to spill out of you, trickling over your swollen folds and dripping onto the table with obscene little plops.

But there’s no time to dwell on the mess. You scramble to grab your clothes, your movements frantic and clumsy as you yank your jeans up your legs and shove your arms into your sweater.

Javier’s doing the same, though far less hurried, like he’s still amused by the whole situation.

When you finally look up at him, his dark eyes are sparkling with mischief, and he throws you a roguish grin that almost makes you laugh despite yourself.

Danny, meanwhile, is still groaning and gagging, his face pale as a sheet. You feel a tiny pang of guilt, but before you can even think about offering help, Javier grabs your hand and tugs you toward the door.

“Aren’t you going to help him?” you whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

“Fuck no,” Javier replies without missing a beat. “Not my fault he couldn’t handle his liquor.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, his lips warm and soft against your skin, and you can’t help but follow him.

You glance back over your shoulder as you’re being pulled toward the backyard, unable to stop yourself from throwing out a half-hearted, “Sorry!”

He doesn’t respond—he’s too busy dry heaving—but you and Javier are already sneaking out, stifling your laughter as the sounds of the party grow louder around you.

The music thrums through the air, its infectious rhythm pulling you in as your dance partner tightens his grip on your waist. His hands are firm, guiding you with confidence, but the musky cologne mixed with the sour tang of sweat is enough to make your nose crinkle if you focus too hard on it.

Still, you’re here out of spite, letting the sway of your hips speak louder than words as your body molds to his. The banda song carries you both across the makeshift dance floor, your movements fluid and natural as though the music itself has taken over.

Javier is just a few paces away, entangled with the curly-haired girl from earlier. His hands rest on her lower back, his body moving with ease. 

There’s a playful challenge in both of your eyes when your gazes finally meet, knowing how this little game of yours will end. 

Neither of you looks away, both determined to outdo the other, even in this small, ridiculous way.

Your dance partner spins you abruptly, breaking the moment. The move is smooth, you’ll give him that, and you find yourself face-to-face with him once again.

He’s not bad looking, honestly—sharp jawline, nice green eyes—but the cologne is killing the vibe, and his wandering hands are starting to push it.

Thankfully, the song winds to a close just as his fingers inch a little too far down your back. The music shifts, a different tune kicking in, and you step back, offering a polite smile as he thanks you for the dance.

“Got a number I can save?” he asks, hopeful and slightly cocky.

You grin, a little too sweetly, and rattle off your number without hesitation. You’ve got no intention of responding if he uses it, but you can’t resist the temptation to stir the pot. As he finally walks away, you feel it—a scorching stare burning into your back.

You don’t even have to look to know who it’s coming from.

“Baila conmigo.”

The familiar rasp of Javier’s voice cuts through the noise as he steps into your space. He takes a swig of his beer, his leather jacket gone, leaving him in just the white button-up that hugs his chest a little too well.

You cock a brow, crossing your arms. “What happened to your dance partner?”

“Sent her away,” he replies easily, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Poor girl couldn’t catch the rhythm.”

You let out an amused huff, rolling your eyes. Of course, he’d say that. Before you can think better of it, you take his hand, allowing him to lead you toward la pista.

The moment you’re there, he pulls you flush against him, one large hand settling at your lower back while the other still clutches his beer. You fall into the simple two-step with ease, your bodies moving in perfect sync to the music. 

His thigh slots between yours, the friction sparking something electric, and you can’t help but press closer, your breaths mingling in the intimate space between you.

“Reminds me of that night at the club,” his lips brush at your ear. It’s a miracle you can still hear him over the loud music. “When you finally let me get between those pretty legs.”

The heat in his words, combined with the faint scent of his cologne and the alcohol on his breath, floods your senses. He smells and feels like everything your last dance partner wasn’t.

Whistles and cheers ripple through the crowd as you and Javi throw yourselves into the rhythm of the song, your bodies moving like two parts of the same melody.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a good dancer the first time you shared a dance—not until that night at the club. 

And just like his dancing, the way he fucked you afterward had blown every expectation out of the water.

The song comes to an end, leaving you both flushed and slightly winded, sweat clinging to your skin despite the cool night air. The cheers die down as a new track begins, and Javi’s lips quirk into a lopsided grin.

“C’mon, give me another one,” he urges, his voice still rich and sensual despite the exertion.

You laugh, shaking your head as you step back, hands on your hips. You hadn’t planned to stay this long, and now your body is screaming for mercy. “Raincheck, handsome. I gotta head home.”

Javi’s grin falters slightly, but it doesn’t fade completely as your hand drifts down his chest, fingers savoring the firmness of his body.

His broad shoulders and toned frame are just so enchanting, and you can’t resist indulging one last time before grabbing his beer. You take a long, slow sip, your eyes flicking up to meet his as you drain the bottle and set it aside on one of the plastic fold-out tables.

“Not gonna stick around for the cake?” he asks, that boyish charm in his tone as he steps closer.

You flash him a flirty smile. “Save me a piece.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but the rowdy chaos of his friends and cousins cuts him off. They swarm him, loud and eager, tugging at his shoulders and shouting for him to take another shot.

He laughs, but his gaze finds yours, his warm brown eyes locking on to you one last time.

“Enjoy, Javi,” you tell him with a wink. “You know where to find me.”

That familiar smirk is at his lips as he’s pulled toward the makeshift bar. You watch him for a moment before turning to make your departure.

You’re cutting across the lawn when you hear a voice behind you.

“Need a ride home?”

It’s the guy you danced with earlier, his cologne still potent even in the open air. His gentlemanliness would’ve been charming if it weren’t for the obvious expectation in his tone.

You decline politely, offering a quick smile before brushing past him and unlocking your car.

What you don’t realize is that Javi sees the entire exchange from afar. He’d caught the tail end of the guy trailing after you, his gaze narrowing as he watched you disappear into the sea of parked cars.

A flicker of irritation tugged at his expression, but he stayed rooted to his spot, letting his friends push another shot into his hand.

Instead of following, he threw himself into his own celebration, his laugh loud and boisterous as if he hadn’t seen a damn thing. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you leaving with that guy, and the glint in his eyes that had been so bright when you were there dulled just slightly. 

Still, he let it go, for now.

He knew exactly where to find you, after all.

“Oh my god,” you mewl, your back arching against the cold tile of your kitchen floor. Javier thrusts into you with a raw, animalistic need, his cock driving so deep inside you that it feels like he’s carving himself into your very being.

The absurdity of the situation is a bit funny—you’re still fully clothed, minus your sleeping shorts having been thrown haphazardly across the room, a stark contrast to earlier when you’d been bare and spread for him on that damn pool table.

Just as you predicted, he showed up at your door in the dead of night, his silhouette illuminated by the dim porch light. You’d barely made it to the door before his desperate, insistent knocking threatened to wake the entire block.  

It felt like he might break it down if you didn’t open it fast enough. Whoever dropped him off didn’t even wait to see if you’d answer.

No words were exchanged when you finally let him in. His brown eyes, dark and searing, did all the talking.

He’d cupped your face with one rough hand, the other holding a plate with aluminum foil covering it, precariously balancing it in his palm as he kissed you with an appetite that left you breathless.

You let him back you into the kitchen, setting the plate on the counter, his body crowding yours until there was nowhere left to go.

And now, here you are, legs spread wide, the weight of him pressing you down into the tiles, his jacket still on, smelling like beer and bourbon as he ruts himself against you.

“Givin’ your number out, huh?” he growls against your lips, his words dripping with bitterness. His hand snakes up to wrap around your neck, firm but not harsh, forcing your hazy eyes to meet his. You feel the subtle coolness of the bracelet against your skin and that only makes it better. “That’s all it takes, fresita? One fuckin’ dance?”

Each word is punctuated by a sharp, punishing thrust that has you gasping for air.

Your hands scramble at the back of his jacket, trying to find some sort of anchor while his dick fucks into you over and over, your slick cunt clamping helplessly around him.

If your brain wasn’t fogged with pleasure, you’d call him out on his jealousy, tease him for letting something so trivial get under his skin. At least you were better about hiding it.

But god, it’s too fucking hot—seeing him like this, so undone, so unhinged, all because of you.

Javier, the man who always carries himself with that cool, confident swagger, who never seems to let anything faze him, is now losing his composure right here on your kitchen floor.

And all it took was watching some other guy’s attention on you to make him snap. If anyone is picky and spoiled here—it’s him.

“Answer me,” he demands, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to leave you lightheaded, his thrusts never faltering. His free hand grabs at your thigh, spreading you even wider for him, the angle forcing you to experience every inch of him.

“I—it was nothing,” you manage to cry, though your words are almost incoherent as he’s driving into you. “Javi, I—”

“You what?” he interrupts with a curt laugh, his teeth grazing the underside of your jaw before he bites down gently, making you squirm beneath him. “You think I’m gonna let you walk around, lettin’ some asshole think he’s got a chance with you?”

The thought alone seems to fuel him further, his movements growing rougher and you swear you’re on the edge of unraveling.

And as he watches the way your body responds to him—your nails digging into his back, your moans turning into screams—he knows he’s making his point loud and clear. 

Javi’s grip around your throat tightens, cutting off your breath just enough to stimulate you. The pressure makes you feel somehow, impossibly, even more turned on.

“He can’t fuck you like I can,” he grinds against you, his coarse and damp pubic hairs bristling against your sensitive clit, the friction of it almost too much. “No one can.” His face hovers so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your mouth falls open on instinct, tiny, wheezy moans spilling out as his nose brushes against yours.

Javier’s dark eyes feel like they’re boring straight into your soul, gleaming with hunger as he watches your every twitch, every little surrender. He leans in and kisses you all demanding and vehement. 

His lips claim yours like he’s trying to eat you whole, his tongue slipping inside to taste every gasp you give him.

“Listen to that,” he murmurs mockingly as he pulls back just enough to let his gaze drop between your bodies, watching your pussy swallow his cock. “Just listen to how wet you are, baby. Think he could ever make you sound like this?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment—and arousal—as the obscene, sloppy sounds of his length plunging into you fill the air, amplified by his words. The drive of his hips is merciless, each stroke drawing you closer with dizzying precision.

Your nails dig into his forearms, bending your body beneath him as your vision starts to be blotched with white spots.

You can feel it, the winding of your orgasm at your core pulling taut, about to burst. When it finally does, your pussy flutters and squeezes as waves of smoldering intensity crash over you.

“Puta madre,” he snarls, his head falling back from how good it feels to have you come around him.

Pulling out, Javier pins you down with his weight to keep you from squirming away. His cock, flushed, drooling, and shiny with your juices, hovers inches from your face as you lay flat on the floor.

Your swollen lips part instinctively, the scent of your own headiness making your mouth water.

“Tongue out, baby,” he commands, his voice rough but coaxing.

You obey, sticking your tongue out lazily, your half-lidded eyes locked onto his. The sight of you like this—wrecked, pliant, and waiting for him—is enough to undo him completely. His hand pumps his cock, the golden accessory on his wrist jolting with each move. 

With a low, rasping groan, he spills over you, thick, hot ropes of cum splattering across your face and tongue.

You moan softly, savoring the warmth, licking your lips and swallowing whatever lands in your mouth. The taste of him leaves your tongue and throat buzzing, and you revel in the messy intimacy of it.

He uses his fingers to wipe the remnants of his release from your cheeks, then pushes them into your mouth without hesitation.

“Suck,” he orders, and you comply, wrapping your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue over them with eager enthusiasm. You get carried away, your tongue flicking and sucking greedily, and he chuckles darkly.

“Jealousy looks good on you,” you can’t help but tease, your voice carrying amusement as you both come down from the dazed fucking.

Javier sways a little, his inebriation finally catching up to him. He stumbles, but he steadies himself smoothly, like the world itself wouldn’t dare let him fall.

He wipes a hand down his face before meeting your gaze, still kneeling on the floor. “Not a fan of people playin’ with what’s mine,” he says, the statement edged with that possessiveness he tries to pretend isn’t there.

Usually, a line like that would have you rolling your eyes and telling the guy to take his ego down a notch. But with Javier? You don’t mind. At all. Something about the way he says it—like it’s a fact, not an opinion—makes your stomach flip in the worst (or best) way possible.

“Yours?” you challenge, sitting up on your forearms and arching a brow at him. “I thought this was casual.”

“It is,” he says without missing a beat, bringing his fingers up to caress the side of your face, more calm and sure, like he’s completely unaware of how contradictory his behavior is.

You narrow your eyes slightly, refusing to let him off the hook that easily despite melting under his touch. “Casual hookups don’t go into a frenzy after watching the other dance and flirt with someone else.”

He doesn’t even flinch at your words, doesn’t even bother to defend himself. Instead, he smirks—because of course he does—and stretches his arms over his head like the entire conversation is nothing but a minor inconvenience to him.

He straightens up then stands, extending a hand to you, his palm open and inviting, the gold band of the bracelet glinting in the low light.

You let him pull you up and let out a sound of exertion, your muscles still tense from rolling around on the hard floor with him.

“Dance, flirt with whoever you want. When I want you, I’m gonna have you.”

That’s possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. “That so?” You try to sound unimpressed, but your voice betrays you, just the tiniest bit giddy.

“That’s so,” he concedes vaingloriously. “Don’t forget who makes you feel this satisfied.”

As if I could ever. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but the words lack any real bite.

He leans in, kissing you gently, then his voice drops into that deep, velvety murmur that makes your pussy tingle. “Yet you keep coming back.”

You don’t respond because, let’s face it, he’s not wrong. Especially not when he pairs those words with an affectionate kiss.

Instead, you finally roll your eyes, the most predictable move in your arsenal, and step around him to grab your discarded sleeping shorts.

Sliding them back on, you make your way to the counter, where the lonely styrofoam plate of half-smashed birthday cake waits for attention. Without a word, you pull it closer, grab a fork, and dig in.

Javier watches you with a grin still plastered across his face, leaning his hip against the counter. “Didn’t even offer the birthday boy the first bite, huh? Real cold.”

You stab a piece exaggeratedly, lifting it to your mouth, and chewing slowly, giving him a look that says cry about it.

But when you see the faint pout pulling at his lips—a deliberate act, no doubt—you sigh, scoop up another forkful, and hold it out. “Fine. Even though technically it’s not your birthday anymore.”

He leans in, not breaking the eye contact, and takes the bite straight from the fork, his lips brushing the tines with an unnecessary amount of flair.

You swear he’s showing off, but you don’t call him out on it, not when he groans softly in appreciation and you can’t help but admire him like this, playful and flirty in your kitchen.

“Feliz cumpleaños, Javi,” you say after a moment, softer now.

He swallows, his smirk shifting into something a little more genuine as he meets your gaze. “Gracias, fresita.”

For a moment, the air between you shifts—gentler, almost intimate. Then he reaches for the fork still in your hand and steals another bite, flashing you a look that drags you right back to reality.

i have a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

@almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @thundermartini . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @penascigarette . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk . @theestorm . @pasc4lfuzz .

[dixonsdarkelf]

Not An Invitation: Daryl Dixon & Fem!Reader

Full title: This is not an invitation (fuck you mean you need it?)

Summary: Shane never knew when he wasn't welcome in someone's space, and he was often invading yours. After one time too many, a certain archer comes to your defense. Inspired by the song 'Invitation' by Ashnikko.

Era: Season 2, Greene Farm

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: No use of y/n, swearing, Shane being a major-league creep

“I told you to leave me alone,” you protested. The anger you’d been able to keep at bay thus far threatened to bubble over, simmering just below boiling point under the surface. You were usually the more relaxed one in the group—calm, level-headed, and rational. You hated confrontation and aimed to avoid it at all costs. But you’d had enough.

Shane took a liking to you from the moment you arrived at the farm. He’d often find ways to get close to you, even if what he was supposed to be doing was nowhere near where you were. You’d told him to scram on more than one occasion, usually under the guise of needing to scamper off to do your chores.

One thing about Shane, however, was that he didn’t know how to take no for an answer.

“All I said was you’re lookin’ good today,” he repeated. With an eye roll heavy enough to nearly roll your head back with it, you rose from your spot on the porch and started walking away, knowing the asshole deputy was close behind.

“That isn’t all you said, and you know that,” you snapped, not so much as turning your head back to look at him as you kept walking. He’d said far more than just that, as he often did. His other commentary made your stomach churn, and it was enough for you to not ever think of repeating it.

“C’mon, it’s just a little harmless fun,” he sighed, picking up his pace to catch up to you. You swallowed hard and kept your eyes on the field in front of you. The only one having fun in this situation was him.

“Hardly call it harmless,” you scoffed. You heard him catch up to you, but before he could get close enough to reach for your arm, he was, as he would have put it, “rudely interrupted.”

Your saving grace approached from your peripheral, slipping past you without a word to confront the man on your heels. He stood between you, not quite completely shielding you from Shane’s prying eyes, but close. You couldn’t see, but you pictured his beautiful, piercing baby blues searing through Shane. It brought a hint of a smile to your face to know that, of all people who could’ve come to your defense, the handsome archer was the one.

Daryl Dixon was the quietest one of the group, often keeping to himself in his tent on the outskirts of your makeshift campsite. You’d heard him equated to a feral dog, minus the possible rabies. He was more than just a little rough around the edges, but you saw right through it. You knew there was more to the man behind the crossbow.

Shane had taken a liking to you, but you had taken a liking to Daryl.

“Think she said to back off,” Daryl cut in. You looked up at him. eyes traveling from his chestnut locks to his broad shoulders and up to the beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck. Some would say it was from the heat. Others might say it was from anger.

“Don’t think I was talkin’ to you, Dixon.” Having been a cop in the old world, Shane was used to bossing people around without any back talk. His voice was rigid, sharp enough to slice through anyone who got in his way. Except for Daryl.

“Dun’ think she was wantin’ to talk to ya,” he repeated, more stern this time. He held his crossbow firmly in his hands, 

You’d never seen him use it on anyone in the group

When Daryl didn’t so much as flinch, Shane took one last look at you before walking off, his tail between his legs. You hadn’t realized that every muscle in your body tensed up, but the moment Shane was out of sight, you relaxed, quickly steadying yourself. Once you did, you went to turn to Daryl, but during your moment of unsteadiness, he’d pondered off. You would just have to thank him later.

Later that afternoon, after all your work had been completed, you wandered over to Daryl’s tent, half-expecting him to not be there. Yet there he was, carving a stick into a bolt for the thousandth time. You ran a hand through your hair to brush it out of your eyes before gathering the courage to get close enough to talk to him. Once you were only a few feet away, he looked up at you, those gorgeous pools of blue making your heart stop.

This was the closest in proximity you two had ever been while alone.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you,” you said, your voice timid in comparison to your usual confidence. You had no evidence that you’d spooked him, but you were nervous, and not knowing what else to say to start the conversation, that’s what came out.

“Dun’ get spooked,” he replied, focusing his attention back on the stick in his hands. The movements of his knife were fluid, easy, like he’d done it so many times, he could do it in his sleep. It was simultaneously attractive and terrifying.

“I, umm…” your voice trailed off, the whole monologue you’d prepared in your head being dwindled down to two simple words as your nerves took over, “thanks, Daryl.”

He looked back up at you again. “For what?”

“For earlier,” you explained, “for what happened with Shane.” You lowered yourself slowly, hesitantly, as if you were still deciding whether or not to sit down despite doing so. You made sure to keep your distance as to respect his personal space.

“Wasn’t nothin’,” he assured, pausing his handiwork, “asshole’s bein’ a creep. Someone had to put ‘em in his place.”

A small smile graced your lips. “Well, if meant a lot to me.” He simply nodded and continued what he was doing, but you weren’t finished. “He said a lot worse, y’know? You just weren’t around for that.”

Daryl’s gaze scanned over you, like he was trying to read between the empty spaces of your words, eager for more details but not pressing. He’d known Shane for far longer than you had, and he was well-aware of the kind of shit he’d said to women in the past. The thought of him saying such vile things to you made him sick, but he kept his expression stoic, same as always.

You echoed your earlier words, your voice thick with emotion. “So…thank you.”

“Dun’ mention it,” he reassured. For a brief moment, you thought you’d caught a glimpse, a tiny hint, of a smile from the archer. However, it was so quick, almost like a glitch, and you couldn’t be sure.

“Do you mind if I stay here for a while? I don’t exactly feel like going back to the others yet,” you confessed. 

“Long as ya promise to be quiet,” he teased, “had enough yappin’ from Sheriff Shithead already.”

You chuckled softly and dropped your gaze for a moment before meeting his again. For a brief moment, his heart stopped, taking in the stunning sight and sound in front of him. Your laugh was like music to his ears. “I can do that.”

The silence between you was soft, comfortable, the only sounds around you being the birds in the trees and his knife scraping across yet another stick. And you sat just like that for hours, not bothered that barely a word was exchanged.

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie @holdmytesseract @dixons-sunshine

GIF and copyright below by me, sparkle dividers by @anitalenia

[atlntiic]

lollipop - Leon S. Kennedy.

Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!reader.

Summary: she say she love my lolly, she wanna make it pop, she say she love my lolly, she wanna kiss the top, she say she love my lolly, she love my lollipop.

CW: 18+, mdni!, smut, oral sex (m receiving), praising, c in mouth.

2.7k words

a/n: wish I could lick his lollipop too :( (first post, kinda nervous y'all)

You sat at your desk, surrounded by mess. Paperwork was everywhere, your computer screen with classified files you didn’t have the energy to deal with. On your left was a cup of coffee to keep you awake, and on your right? Lollipops. You couldn’t survive without them.

Grabbing a fresh one, you unwrapped it and popped it into your mouth. Strawberry, your favourite. The sweet flavour coming right into your mouth was truly a masterpiece, and you were definitely an addicted freak.

The police department was a disaster tonight. Fridays weren't always busy, but this one tonight was worse. You stared at the clock-18:15. The reports weren’t finished, and they had to be done by midnight. There was no way you’d get through everything in time.

You leaned back in your chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment, hoping for some kind of miracle. Your fingers ached from hours of typing and highlighting papers. Exhausted from everything.

You take a moment to glance around the office. It’s quiet, with only a few people still here. Some are finishing up their work, and others are packing their things, laughing as they mention their plans: parties, drinks, or just heading home to relax.

You pout, biting the inside of your cheek. You had plans tonight, too. You and your friends had been hyped to check out that new bar everyone had been bragging about. You’d seen the posts, the good music, great drinks, and an atmosphere so fun it made people forget the week they’d just had. You wanted to be there, to feel that energy, have fun for once.

and maybe find someone to go home with.

But here you were, stuck at your desk. The reality hurt more than you wanted to admit. You knew you couldn’t say no when your boss handed you this pile of work. Losing your job wasn’t an option, and there wasn’t anyone else willing to take it on. So you stayed silent, gave a nod, and accepted it.

You tried to shove the sad thoughts out of your mind, focusing on the work in front of you. The click of your keyboard was your only companion, and the strawberry sweetness lingering in your mouth was your attempt to keep the anxiety in control. You sucked hard on the lollipop as if that would somehow make everything feel better.

As you typed faster, trying to get ahead of the looming deadline, your hand instinctively reached for another lollipop. The last one was already gone, and the familiar craving hit you. At least it wasn’t drugs, you thought with a dry chuckle. Small victories. You guess.

"That's a lot of work."

The sudden low voice from behind made you freeze. Your head shot up, startled, as you turned around slowly.

Leon S. Kennedy.

Your eyes locked with his. He was standing behind you, looking down with an intensity that made your breath catch for a moment. There was something in his expression, concern, maybe, behind his usual composed look.

Leon wasn’t one of the office workers. His job was out there, on patrols, dangerous assignments, Yet, despite that, he always seemed to find his way to you when he was here.

You’d known each other for about a year now, ever since you transferred to this department. He wasn’t much of a talker, not with most people. But with you? He’d always managed to strike up a conversation.

You smiled at him, a little embarrassed. "Yeah, lucky me, I guess," you said with a nervous chuckle.

Leon didn’t respond right away, just gave a small nod, his expression thoughtful.

"It's Friday, though," he said after a pause, his voice curious. "Shouldn't you be out partying with your friends?"

He wasn’t wrong. That had been the plan. But here you were, stuck at your desk.

You sighed, shrugging lightly. "There wasn’t anyone else willing to take this on, so the boss handed it to me," you explained, your voice full of awkwardness. You scratched the back of your neck, feeling the embarrassment.

As you spoke, you pulled the lollipop from your mouth, giving it a quick lick before popping it back in. A habit you didn't even notice you do.

Leon’s eyes followed your movements, and for a brief second, you caught his jaw clench, he quickly cleared his throat, breaking the moment.

"That's pretty sad," Leon said in a low tone, his gaze lingering a moment too long on the lollipop pressed to your lips.

You blinked, caught off guard by the intensity of his stare, and quickly shifted the focus. "What about you? Shouldn’t you be out doing the same? Partying or something?" you asked, genuinely curious. Leon rarely talked about his life outside of work, and you realized you didn’t know much about what he did in his free time.

He chuckled softly, the sound deep "Not really my style. I prefer staying home."

You nodded, somehow not surprised. He definitely gave off the quiet, stay-in kind of vibe. Before you could stop yourself, the words rolled right out of your mouth.

"With your girlfriend?"

The moment the question left your lips, you froze. Your eyes widened as you processed what you’d just said, and the heat rushed to your face. 

Leon raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. You felt like a tomato under his gaze, the embarrassment burning you. You turned your head away quickly, stumbling over your words as you tried to apologise.

"I-I didn’t mean—"

But before you could finish, he answered.

"I don’t have a girlfriend," he said calmly. Then, after a pause, he added, "Yet."

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. "Oh," was all you managed to get out, your voice barely a whisper.

Silence lingered in the air, you kept sucking on your lollipop, the sweet taste doing little to calm the heat still lingering in your cheeks. Leon didn’t say a word, his gaze fixed as he seemed to think over something.

Then, without warning, he grabbed a random chair and pulled it up beside you.

The action caught you completely off guard. You blinked at him, unsure of what he was doing.

"I’ll help you," he said simply, reaching for a pile of papers on your desk and a highlighter, leaving no room for argument.

"Leon, that’s not necessary. I can—" you began, your voice unsure as you tried to wave him off.

But he cut you off smoothly. "It’s fine. You won’t finish all this on your own." He paused, giving you a slight reassuring smile. "Besides, I actually enjoy this kind of stuff."

You nodded silently. If he really wanted to help and even enjoyed this kind of thing, then it wasn’t so bad to let him.

The two of you got to work, setting a peace. From time to time, you’d ask him questions about things you didn’t quite understand, and he’d answer with that calm, patient tone of his. You popped another lollipop into your mouth along the way, the sweet distraction helping to keep your focus.

Leon seemed focused, too, on you, sometimes more than the work. You didn’t notice the way his eyes would linger on your lips when you weren’t looking, and you guessed he’d definitely picked up on your lollipop obsession.

The clock read 23:43. Almost midnight.

The office was completely empty now. Just you and Leon, with most of the lights turned off, leaving the light of your desk lamp as the only illumination.

You pulled your lollipop from your mouth, realizing it was finished again. Without thinking, you reached out to grab another one, your hand automatically moving to the little box at the edge of your desk.

But your hand came up empty.

Your eyes shot toward the box, and your heart sank. It was empty.

A deep sigh escaped your lips, followed by a soft groan. "No way," you mumbled, staring at the empty box like it had personally betrayed you.

Leon’s gaze shifted toward you, noticing the empty box and the look of frustration on your face. A soft chuckle escaped him.

You turned to him with a pout, not finding the situation funny.

"You’re really addicted to those things," he said, pointing out the obvious with a teasing smirk.

You gave him a sad, defeated look, your lips forming a slight pout. "Yeah," you admitted softly, almost like you were confessing a crime.

"I need to go buy more," you murmured, rubbing your eyes tiredly. "If I don’t, I won’t be able to focus, and finish all this work." Your exhaustion was clear, and it made your words sound even more desperate.

Leon didn’t say anything right away, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching you closely. His gaze focused on the way you bit your lip in frustration, and his expression shifted slightly as if lost in thought.

"What flavor is it?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the question. "Strawberry," you replied.

Leon blinked a few times, his expression unreadable. "Let me taste," he said simply, his tone low and steady.

You tilted your head to the side, confusion in your eyes. There were no lollipops left, so how exactly was he planning to "taste" it? The thought didn’t connect, leaving you completely clueless as to what he meant.

Before you could ask, Leon leaned closer. His hand reached out, cupping your face with gentleness. His thumb stroked your cheek softly, and your eyes widened in shock. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you, leaving your breath caught in your throat.

"Leon...?" you managed to whisper, unsure of what he was doing.

He didn’t answer, his gaze fixed entirely on your lips. His fingers applied a bit more pressure, tilting your face up slightly. Your lips instinctively pressed into a soft pout under his touch, and his eyes darkened as he stared, his own lips parting slightly.

"You keep sucking on it," he murmured, his voice low and rough, "like it’s a cock or something."

The bluntness of his words had taken you aback.

"I— you—?!" you stumbled all over the words, completely flustered as the heat rushed to your cheeks. Your body felt like about to start on fire and your heart was pounding in your chest.

Leon hummed softly, clearly amused by your reaction. The corner of his mouth lifted in a small smirk as his thumb traced a slow, running path along your jawline.

"I’ll give you a lollipop," he said, his voice firm. His eyes never left yours, making it impossible to look away. He paused, letting the weight of his words enter your head.

"A special one," he added, his tone dropping lower.

You blinked up at him, your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in just slightly closer.

"All for you," he finished, his voice soft making it clear he wasn’t just talking about candy.

Without warning, his lips crashed against yours, hungry yet impossibly passionate, leaving you breathless, but you quickly melted into the kiss, holding you firm. He nipped at your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you gave without hesitation. His tongue swept into your mouth, exploring every inch, tasting the lingering sweetness from the lollipops you’d been savouring all day.

A soft moan escaped you, muffled by the kiss, and it was enough to drive him crazy, Leon let out a low groan, pulling you closer, one of his hands slid down to your waist, gripping you harder. Without breaking the kiss, he pulled you effortlessly from your chair and onto his lap. You gasped softly at the sudden shift, but his lips silenced you once again.

His free hand roamed along your curves, tracing all the lines of your body, sending shivers down your spine.

"You were such a tease with that lollipop, sucking it like your life depended on it." Between kisses, he groaned, his voice low and husky, "These fucking lips of yours are driving me crazy." His words full with desire, sending shivers down your spine.

Your only let out was a helpless moan, your body burning with desire as a spark starting between your thighs.

he unbuttoned your blouse, his fingers tracing your skin, slowly teasing you, torturing you. As the last button slipped free, he slid his hand inside, his warm palm brushing against your skin, reaching to your bra.

As he unclipped your bra, it fell away, releasing your breasts to his gaze. He pulled back from the kiss, his eyes locking onto yours for a moment before looking down. His gaze fixed on your breast, you tried to hide them, feeling embarrassed but he stopped before you could.

"Don't." He says harshly.

He gently cupped one of your breasts, his fingers tracing the curves as he became mesmerised by the sensation. Leaning in, he flicked his tongue against your nipple, and you gasped at the sudden pleasure, he wrapped his lips around it, sucking gently as his tongue swirled all over it. A low, husky moan rumbled in the back of his throat.

He pulls away, his eyes meeting yours, and he gives a peck on your lips " You want your lollipop, baby?" He asked in a low tone. You nodded, head full of lust, spinning, wanting more of him.

"Get on your knees." Leon commands you.

You obeyed, getting up from his lap and placing yourself on your knees between his thick thighs.

Looking up at him, he smiled licking his lips. His blue eyes piercing yours, filled with amusement. Slowly he unbottoned his pants, letting his cock free.

Your eyes turned away from him and fixed on his dick, and you gulped. You weren't sure how you would fit in your mouth...big and thick, nothing you had ever seen before. Leon notices your reaction and chuckles, grabbing your cheeks once again to meet his gaze one more time. "You're a big girl now, bigger lollipop."

He gently guided your face closer, his cock twitching in anticipation. Stroking himself a few times, he positioned the tip at your lips, tracing the curve of your mouth, tapping a few times before you open your mouth.

Your lips parted, and he slipped inside, his tip dancing on your tongue. You tease him with slow licks, and he lets out a low hum. As you swirled your tongue around him, he slid deeper, filling your mouth completely. Dragging your tongue up his length in a teasing motion, licking all the way to the tip, toying over as your tongue flicks over it, saliva running down him.

Leon grabs your hair, pushing you down on him. You hollow your cheeks, sucking him like you did with the lollipops, pumping your tongue up and down at his cock, peaking the peace, speeding up.

He lets out a growl, "What a big girl are you, doing such a good baby- fuck- you're so good at this", he praises you, looking down at you as you take him completely.

"Mmmhh.."

His grips tights around your hair, making you take him deeper, his tip hits the back of your throat, he starts to roll his hips raming his cock into your mouth, fucking your throat.

You only moan as he fucked your mouth, your swollen lips around it making him go crazy. Leon was a mess, slightly moans left his lips with groans, your eyes were fixed on his.

"You look so pretty like this, baby" He mumbles softly, making your cunt throb. You were dripping, your juices all over your panties. The way he was speaking to you, his noises, his dick, how he was going crazy made you clench, loving it.

Leon's movements started to get sloppier, a taste of his pre-cum filling your mouth as speeds fucking your mouth faster. Your saliva all over him, a mess, whining noises coming from you.

Without warning, he comes in your mouth, painting softly as his cum fills you.

He didn't hesitate, taking his phone out of his pocket and snapping a picture of you with his cock in your mouth as his cum starts dripping from it.

He then shows it to you, "Cute, right?" he smirks, as you give him a straight look.

He laughs at your reaction, cupping your face as you get up from the floor. "You're paying for this," you let out in a threatening tone, but he only shrugs it off and kisses you deeply.

"Next time you want a lollie, just call me Baby."

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

SOULMATE SOAP HAS MY HEART. I DONT THINK THERES ANYTHING I WOULDNT DO FOR HIM

67 / 2.8k / soap soulmate au, epilogue

...

"Anything, you say?" Soap's eyes sparkle. "A dangerous proposal, hen."

You roll your eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I know what you said." He grins at you as he towels himself off. "I’m wonderin' what exactly I could get away with, bein' offered anything. No limits, no boundaries..."

You can't help but let your gaze trail down his form. He's totally naked and still dripping wet. "Anything within reason."

"Where's the fun in bein’ reasonable?"

You lean back, pulling your feet up and crossing your legs atop the low hotel coffee table where you're seated.

You and Soap have been getting to know each other here—intimately, as soulmates and people—for the past two days. You don't live near Glasgow and wouldn't tell Soap where exactly you call home, so he offered to get the two of you a hotel suite near the mountains while the higher-ups figure out what to do with you.

You figured he'd offer to take you out on a date or something, but so far you haven't made it out of the hotel room yet. It's more like a honeymoon than a vacation. You can't say you're disappointed with all the things he's shown you, though.

"Oh, so it hasn't been fun for you yet?"

Soap laughs at that and throws the towel to the carpet. No point in modesty. You’ve seen and touched every scar and bruise on his powerful body, but it does nothing to deter your gaze.

"Been plenty fun. But now I know I could be gettin’ away with even more if I play my cards right."

"Such as?"

"Marriage."

You scoff. "Pervert."

"Am I?" He leans toward you and braces his hands on the edge of the coffee table. He loves the way you try to resist looking at him but can’t help yourself. Your gaze keeps trailing down to his abs. "I think you like the idea of me down on my knees. I’ve seen you enjoyin’ the view."

Your back straightens. He's so cocky. Still, your eyes don't meet his. If anything, they dip lower. "Laswell called while you were in the shower."

"Did she?" He strolls across the space between the bathroom and the bed to his duffel bag. You lean back and watch him languidly as he digs around for his phone, his handsome mouth settling into a frown. He won’t find it. He sees why once he glances over at you to see your catlike smile.

Soap crosses his arms and looks down at you. "Resigned to petty thievery now, are we?"

You shrug and hold his phone out, letting it dangle from your fingertips like a mouse by the tail. "It's not like I have any other jobs to preoccupy my time."

He pauses to admire the view down your tank top—his tank top—and then snatches the phone away. "How many times do you want me tae beg and grovel for forgiveness? Not that you deserve it, ye wee hellion,” he mutters, scrolling through his recent calls.

"At least three more times." You lean back on your hands as he walks away. "Aren't you going to ask me what she said?"

"Are you going to tell the truth?"

"I was considering it."

"Were you?”

You sigh and watch him raise his phone to his ear. You miss when he hung on your every word.

"Go for Soap."

Soap makes a show of talking on the phone with Laswell. He tries not to glance at you too much. You and your sharp pout and the black tank top you’re wearing and how it rides up on your hips and leaves nothing to the imagination. He’ll have to do something about that later.

"Aye. Understood." A slow grin stretches across his face. "Now that is good news. Pleased to be workin' with ya, Laswell."

He hangs up. You cross your arms. "Well?"

Soap tosses his phone on the bed and turns back to you. "Ought to chew you out for answering a call on a secure line."

"Kate already did."

"Did she, now? And you’re on a first-name basis?" Now he is amused. "Don't think I'm not keeping track of every little rule you’ve broken so far. You’re in enough trouble as it is."

You bounce your leg against the tabletop. "What did she say?"

Soap closes the space between you. In the time it takes him to reach you, you stand up, bare feet on the low table. It puts you barely above eye level with him.

"She didn't tell you the news, then, did she?" His lips twist into a smug smirk. "Serves you right."

You stare him down. You don't often get the chance to, so you capitalize on it for all you're worth. "She did," you lie.

"You’re lying, darlin’."

"How would you know?"

"You'd be right pissed off already, for one." He wraps his hands around the backs of your bare thighs idly. His thumbs brush the underside of your ass. "For two, I know better than to take you at your word. Might as well start assuming the opposite of what you decide to tell me."

"That's not a nice thing to say to your soulmate."

"You’ve never been nice to me in your life." He pulls you closer, making your legs part so he can hike his thigh up between them, his foot flat on the table between yours. He grins at you. "I seem to recall you threatenin' me that first night we met."

You push against his chest to steady yourself. "I was trying to protect your dumb ass. You were going to get yourself killed."

Soap’s hand slides up to the small of your back to help you balance. "Didn't get killed, though, did I?"

"Only because I told you to hide."

"My guardian angel."

"You're lucky you got away when you did. If you compromised us, I would've gutted you."

"Vicious, vicious woman."

"Stubborn mule of a man."

"Gorgeous, disobedient pain in my ass." Soap takes your chin in his fingers and lifts it, drifting closer to your lips as if drawn in. "Not tae mention ornery."

"You're ornery."

"Now, that's hurtful. You ought to give me some sympathy."

"Give me one good reason why."

His hands slide up to cup your ass. "Because I’m your soulmate, and I’m entitled to a little sympathy for the fact that your brazen attitude makes me crazy."

You rub at his collarbone. "If you're my soulmate, it follows that you deserve it."

Christ, he loves when you say shit like that. He leans in to mouth the underside of your jaw and murmur directly against your ear. "You know what I deserve? And you’re gonna give it to me?"

You tilt your head up. His lips slide further down your neck. You preen. "Someone has to."

He lets out a dark huff of laughter at the response. You’re all too eager to push back at him, and nothing gets him hard faster than a challenge.

Just as he latches onto your neck and begins marking you with a new hickey, you push him backward onto the hotel bed. Soap laughs as he lets himself fall. Then he sits up on his elbows and leers at you. His hair is already mussed and his breathing already heavier than normal.

You climb over him, plant your palms on his shoulders, and press him down into the comforter. Right as you stoop down to catch his bottom lip in your teeth, though, you look down at him from above and frown. "Wait, but what did Laswell say?"

Soap pauses. “Now?”

"Yes." You can’t stand not knowing. "Tell me."

Soap grabs two handfuls of your ass and squeezes in annoyance. Ruin the mood, then. "She said she heard back from the program." The program meant to protect the soulmates of military operators and other agents who could be compromised by the existance—or any knowledge whatsoever—of a soulbond. Like witness protection.

You suck in an annoyed breath. "Are you really gonna lock me up in some safehouse?"

“I’d love to—chain you up, put you in a cage, keep you somewhere all safe and sound so nobody else can touch you.” Soap watches you with an off-kilter gleam in his eyes. His words draw an image in your mind that isn’t remotely unpleasant. “But it won't be with the program, no. They denied the request."

You perk up. "Really?"

Soap grins at how excited you get. “Aye. Said your old job makes you a security risk. Too hot to handle.” He lets out a huff as his hand slides up your bare thigh. “But don't get too excited. Laswell found another opening. Or… made one. Something in her sector."

You sit back in surprise. "CIA?"

"Aye. Turns out your impressive track record of selling violence for money makes you a font of useful intel. " Soap watches you, gauging your reaction. "Couldn’t let that go to waste, now, could they?"

You glare down at him. "What's the catch?"

Soap can see the wheels turning in your mind. He grins. "Oh, hardly a thing."

Your hands tighten on his shoulders in warning. "Johnny."

He grins up at you, all teeth and confidence. He loves the way you say his name. “You should go into intelligence. You’d be a hell of an interrogator. You’d get me to tell you anything and never even bat those pretty eyelashes at me."

"John, I swear to God."

He laughs as he sits up on his elbows, his free hand running up your leg to wrap around your hip. "Alright, alright. Pushy." This is almost how he wanted you: straddling him on the bed, hips pressed together. "You're the perfect hire because you come attached to your own soldier, aye? Package deal. Someone to keep an eye on you."

"What, like a handler?"

"Somethin' like that," he muses, tracing his finger along your spine.

You give him a doubtful look. There's no way Laswell would stoop so low. But seeing the shit-eating grin on his face gives you a sinking feeling. "I'm an asset?"

"Course not. An asset would've defected of their own free will. And since you runnin’ away with me is still off the record as of yet…"

Still perched across his hips, you cross your arms. "And what if I say no?"

Soap narrows his eyes.

The world flips. You're on your back, pinned underneath him against the bed. He presses your wrists against the comforter. "Then you'd be a hostage."

You pull at his grip, but it does no good. "You can’t do that."

"I can."

"Says who?"

He leans close. "Says your new handler." He lets the word sink in, lets it make your mind race with indignant heat. That's how he likes you best. His lips trail along the side of your neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin there in a way that makes you arch up. "Talk or don't. Either way, I'll have a convenient excuse to keep you locked up tight."

Naturally. He lets the truth slip out so easily. Likely because he never intended to give you much of a choice. He's learned his lesson and knows very well not to trust you to stay in one place anymore. If he wants to keep you around, he needs to play dirty. Like you.

He trusts you with his life, yes, but not with your own. And certainly not with his heart.

You scoff. But instead of resisting, you relax your body and let him have his way. "Fine. If it makes no difference, do your job. You know what that is, right? Extract my intel."

He pauses with his mouth against your neck. You’re giving in already. He isn’t used to that.

He shifts his hands to thread your fingers together and pin them higher over your head. He lets his mouth brush your neck as he speaks. "I intend to."

"Go on, then. Let’s see a real interrogation. Nothing like that silly warehouse you had me in before."

Soap’s face falls into a scowl. Cheeky. "That wasn't an interrogation, hen. That was a rescue." He settles one muscular leg back between your thighs. "Bloody eager to test my patience. And for what?"

"Mm."

He lets his knee nudge up against your core and grind against it, skin to skin. "You want a fight?" His voice softens, barely. "You want control?"

You think about it. But ultimately, you let your eyes close and relax your body that much more under him. "No, I trust you."

“Oh?” You’ve never said that before. Those words sound good coming from your lips. “Do ye?”

You open your eyes a fraction to narrow them at him. "Don't look too far into it."

“I’ll look as far as I please. Trust me not to hurt you, trust me not to let you leave...” He kisses you. It steals your breath again. "Trust me to give you what you need. Am I close?"

"You're trying to rile me up."

A dangerous grin slowly spreads across his face. “That's what I do best, sweetheart. So you trust me, eh?" When he gets like this—dark and heated, predatory—Soap looks more dangerous than all the weapons he’s ever used combined. A man as trained and deadly as Soap can get downright lethal when he’s playing with you. “Are you sure you should be trusting a man like me?”

"No, definitely not. Horrible idea."

He lets a laugh rumble out of his chest and his knee grinds against you again, earning himself a soft gasp. "But you’re still doing it, aren’t you? And you know what I'd do if your sweet little ass pulled another runner."

"I'm shaking in my socks."

His eyes flash with heat as he smirks down at you. He can feel your thighs clenching around his leg as he continues to grind against you. "You ought to be," he murmurs. "You know I got you. And you owe me."

"Do I?"

"Aye. For runnin' away from me, for lyin', for makin' me hunt you down. For makin' me drag your ass out of a frozen river. For makin' me think you were gonnae freeze t'death the moment I finally got you in my arms." He gives you such a heated look, you find yourself looking off at the ceiling behind him rather than holding his gaze. "And that's not even gettin' into all the stitches I got 'cause of you. You owe me for every single one."

You swallow. "Are you planning to hold that stuff over my head forever?"

If you had any idea how it felt to see you disappearing into that river, you probably wouldn’t be asking that.

"That depends on whether you plan on bein' the sort who needs to be kept in line forever," he growls. "Or whether you're gonnae let me keep you safe, darlin', always where I want ye."

Your face warms and your chest flutters. Damn it. "Fat chance," you retort as quickly as you can to cover up the butterflies.

"Forever it is, then." He lets go of your hands and reaches up to grab your chin. Soap has big hands, strong, with too many scars along his knuckles given his young age. "You’d do well to remember that every time you think about runnin’ from me.” His knee grinds up against you again, a tease and a promise all rolled into one. “Now tell me again that you trust me.”

"Nnh." You squirm. "Johnny, c'mon..."

"No, go on. Say it for me. Say you trust me. Say it out loud." He leans in closer. He's hungry again. Starving. "Let me hear it again. Sounds as pretty as you look."

You roll your hips against his knee again, seeing stars against your eyelids when his thigh muscle clenches.

His grip tightens in warning as he fights to keep control of himself. "You’re pushin’ it, hen."

"Do something about it," you murmur. You wanted bite in your voice, but it's not quite there. "Handler."

Coming from your mouth, it does funny things to his mind. His muscles coil tight with need. But then he relaxes. He has all the time in the world to do everything he wants to you. He bites down gently on your ear, earning a breathless shudder from you. His hands snake under your hips, pulling them up higher as his body slides between your legs.

"That's right. All mine."

...

the end :) thanks everyone! soap loves you <3

...

← previous part / [epilogue]

part 1 / more Soap / masterlist

...

send me a prompt for more of him? :)

[garciasgirl]

Secret Sunshine | spencer reid x reader ｡𖦹°‧

genre: fluff!!

summary: spencer and reader were childhood best friends, until spencer had to leave. spencer left reader when he went to college and they haven’t spoken in over ten years. one might, at a some random local bar garcia dragged the BAU too, spencer finds someone he wasn’t expecting to ever see again. his sunshine.

content: sunshine!reader, use of y/n, awkward!spencer, but he starts to get more confident slowly? idk, lighthearted teasing, spencer left her, spencer and reader are childhood best friends, nervous!spencer, nervous!readet, bubbly!reader, lots of longing for each other, super fluffy and cute, spencer struggles with being affected by his job, baker!reader

notes: guys this is my first time writing like this please im so so sorry if it’s bad!! pls don’t be mean i will cry

word count: 2.8k

──── ୨୧ ──── ──── ୨୧ ────

spencer didn’t often entertain the teams schemes of bringing him out to a club or bar. however, their last case in particular got to him. the details still fresh and relentless in his mind. a case involving children. cases were hard enough, but when it involved children, that came with a different feeling. A stronger one.

Spencer hated how much his job affected him. Especially when he looked at his team members, they never seemed to have any issue. Sure, the pictures could be gruesome and disturbing, which the team were affected by. But Spencer, it wasn’t just the pictures. It was guilt that came along with it. maybe the only downside to an eidetic memory. He could never take his mind off of anything. The cases, the victims, the guilt. What if he could’ve done better? What if he figured things out faster? Would he have saved those victims? Was this his fault? It was eating at him too much, maybe that’s why he agreed to garcia’s team bonding event at a local bar.

“having fun, genius?” Morgan’s familiar teasing tone suddenly appeared. no, he was not. but Penelope was right there, and he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he said anything of the sort in front of her. he settled on “sure, a blast.” spencer wasn’t usually one for sarcasm, but an occasional snippy response happened here and there. “come on, spence..loosen up!! we all are in need of a break.” jj sat down next to him, her smile was warm and her voice kind. the teams teasing was playful and light, it always was. but spencer did not need any more stress, and this environment was starting to feel a lot more overwhelming than expected. too loud, music playing and people shouting over it, too bright, light for every corner yet it was so dark. and way too many people. he just needed a break, just a couple seconds.

“im going to get a drink.” spencer muttered, standing up and making his way to the bar. “uh, just, a sprite please.” he never liked alcohol, spencer liked control. and alcohol came with uncontrollable chaos. spencer lingered at the bar for a couple minutes, at first it was a bit calming. there weren’t many people surrounding him, and the music wasn’t as loud over here. that was until a swarm of people came over to the bar, shouting and practically pushing spencer out of the way. he sighed, a bit annoyed, and grabbed his drink. he returned to the table filled with his coworkers, and sat back down. jj said something to him, he doesn’t respond. he means to, but he just can’t.. his attention was somewhere else. on someone else.

her. those brown curls that bounced with every step. the dimples, you hadn’t changed much since he last saw you. which was, the summer when you both were thirteen. your tan skin glistened under the lights, and the smile stretched onto your face was so familiar, he almost felt pulled to you. he knew he couldn’t go over to you, what if you didn’t remember? but, he could just…look, right?

“Reid? Hello…pretty boy?” Morgan snapped his fingers in Spencer’s face. Spencer shook his head slightly “huh..?” He muttered, not turning his attention away from you. he took a quick glance at morgan, his attention springing back to you almost instantly. Derek laughed at him, “welcome back man, what were you..”

he trails off, following Spencer’s eyes. a low whistle followed by some deep laughter. “well, look at that, pretty boys’s got himself a crush.” Spencer shook himself slightly and cleared his throat. Taking a sip from his drink. “Shut up morgan, I uh..” emily shook her head at him “don’t even try Reid, he is never letting this go.” She was right; but Spencer couldn’t bring himself to care much in that moment. You were in the center of his brain, and you were hard to shake.

He thought this couldn’t get any worse, any more awkward. the moment he noticed you, he felt overwhelmed with nostalgia. Even though he was scared that you would notice him, and how you would respond. he still felt a longing for you. a longing for the person he had considered his home, and the person that he was forced to leave when college came around. the shock from seeing you and the embarrassment from his team, which he knew was coming, was all to much. just enough to make his hand twitch and sweat, which in result, the drink in his hand spilled. not all the way, but just enough to cover the part of the table in front of him. as he scrambled to clean it up, his ears turning pink from his teams teasing, he heard that voice.

you weren’t even talking to him yet, you had walked in the bar with some unfamiliar faces. friends of yours, he assumed. the feelings of embarrassment and nostalgia were pushed down. and the pain of guilt flooded through his system. spencer didn’t mean to leave you. you were, well, everything to him. but college was important to him, and even more important to his mom. he couldn’t say no. losing you was heartbreaking, but you encouraging him to go, that buried him deep into the ground. you were just so kind, so caring. even though Spencer was the only person you ever truly trusted, you told him to move across the country because you wanted him to chase his dreams. he still felt guilty, he still felt like an absolute idiot. maybe it was the creepy staring from both spencer. Or maybe it was the equally creepy staring from his team. but eventually you turned around, and you had noticed him. you had seen Spencer. The man you have been dying to see again since the moment he left. you walked over to him, not meaning to leave your friends behind, but doing it anyway.

“Spencer Reid? that cannot be you!” A warm voice flooded the area Spencer and his team were currently occupying. “y/n, uh..hi..!” He mumbled awkwardly, the teams glance stuck on Spencer, except for morgan, of course. Who was busy ogling over y/n. He did that with every pretty girl, but, y/n was different. Spencer didn’t understand the feelings arising, but he knew he didn’t want morgan looking at you like that for any longer.

laughter, soft and feminine broke out. “Spence, really? We’ve known each other for what? Over ten years? Don’t be so awkward!!” y/n spoke directly towards Spencer, not even acknowledging the rest of his team yet. Morgan nudged Spencer with his shoulder. “Pretty boy, ten years!! You’ve known this gorgeous lady for over ten years and you’re acting like a high school boy?”

“Shut up- morgan! I, I just didn’t expect to see her, okay?” Spencer responded, his voice unsure, which wasn’t common. “You didn’t expect to see me? Seriously spence, am I that forgettable?” You teased lightly. Not in a mean way, but in the childish way you had done all those years ago. “Wait, years? Oh you have some explaining to do!!” Garcias chirpy voice sounded out. The rest of the team, agreeing in hums and yeahs.

“right..” he cleared his throat, again. “Guys, this is y/n, she is, was, a good friend of mine.” despite the sting from his words, y/n smiled politely at everyone, “hi, it’s so nice to meet you all!” you were ushered to sit, by penelope, and you complied, taking the seat next to Spencer. you, feeling uneasy about all of the new faces, stared down at your feet. Spencer watched you, his eyes not ever leaving you. Not even for a second. His eyes were trained on you confidently, but spencer was nervous. His face was flushed, even though it was barely noticeable under the fluorescent bar lights. The team all watched the two of you with knowing eyes, their reactions pleasant to seeing their genius yet awkward Dr. Spencer Reid having such a connection. Morgan seemed the most amused, giving Spencer a playful slap on the back “my man!!” He joked before walking off with penelope.

Spencer had laughed at Derek slightly, but stopped when his eyes finally lingered over you again. he looked at you deeply, his eyes caressing over your features, he couldn’t believed how different you looked. but in a way, you looked the exact same. your hair was just as curly, your eyes bright with that same spark you held when you were young. even though you looked a little different, you still felt the same to spencer. like warmth, like home. spencer must’ve been staring for too long because you had noticed, giving him a small smile, biting her lip hesitatingly before saying.

“hi..sorry for, intruding.” you whispered, a soft, but apologetic smile on your face. for the first time during this entire conversation, spencer smiled. This was a good sign, you believed. At first, when you had sat down, you felt the nerves rush over you. It had been a long time, and even though Spencer was the one who had left. You felt worried that maybe, he wasn’t as fond that you returned as he made it seem. You wanted him to still care about you, and you were worried that the love he had for you may have faded over the years.

“hey, don’t be sorry. im glad to see you.” you had calmed down slightly at his words, spencer wasn’t one to lie unless completely necessary. So you trusted he was being truthful with his words. Even if he wasn’t, to hear them was so enticing, you just wanted him to talk on and on. About whatever, his voice and his words were all you wanted to hear anyway.

Spencer hadn’t realized how much he missed that, the simplicity of it. When life had been so cruel, you had been his escape, a source of light in a house full of shadows. ‘Sunshine,’ he used to call you, but now it felt more like a warning. Maybe, just maybe, you were the one thing that could make him feel like himself again.

And that voice, spencer swears he could hear that voice forever and never get bored. he would dream about you, often. your appearance was vivid, but as the years passed, the familiarity of your voice started to fade. when he finally heard it again, it was like heaven. you always spoke so beautifully. it was purely angelic. everything about you was an angelic. and was spencer glad that you were finally back in front of him, and not just in his dreams.

the smile on your face turned brighter, you took a sip out of your drink. “so..it’s been a while.” You comment, not sure how to start a conversation when the two of you haven’t talk for over 10 years. “sure has, sunshine.”

sunshine. that nickname, spencer used to call you that all the time. he said you were like his own personal piece of sunshine. quite poetic for a thirteen year old boy, but then again, it was spencer. warmth flooded into your cheeks, a soft look of joy and nostalgia filling her eyes.

spencer looked different, his hair was longer, and he looked a lot more mature. even though his outward appearance had changed, spencer was still spencer, and you liked that. when the rest of the team, who had been lingering, dispersed amongst the bar, spencer calmed down.

“what are you doing here anyway, not that im not happy you’re here, but..” you laughed softly and shook your head. “I just started working a new job here, speaking of jobs, you’re finally the fbi agent you dreamed of being!!” you said accidentally, putting a gentle hand on his arm. “im proud of you, spence.” his eyes softened, his other hand placed on top of yours. he gave it a quick squeeze. “thank you, sunshine.” the quick squeeze, the comfort that came with it was almost breaktaking. you hadn’t felt the calmness that spencer’s touch brought in years. feeling it, was almost overwhelming. even though spencer was the one who had initiated the sudden touch, he still felt the warmth flood through him. your hand, even just the simplest connection had almost knocked the wind out of him.

spencer wasn’t sure why he felt so comfortable. After all, you two haven’t seen each other in years. and, as cliche as it might sound, it feels like you two never parted ways. you were always his comfort, a home, in a way. between his absent father, schizophrenic mother, and the torment he suffered in school from his peers, you were always the person he went to. you were his little piece of sunshine. and now that he’s an fbi agent dealing with his own personal demons, maybe that sunshine is just what he needs?

Spencer shakes himself from this thoughts, turning to face you more. he hasn’t take his hand off of yours, and you haven’t made any move to retract your hand. so he keeps it there, resting gently on top of yours. it’s relaxing. Spencer realizes he hasn’t said much so he makes small talk. “new job, you said? what kind of job?” he asks, looking at you. his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. you smile, brightly. a sense of pride shining through. “a bakery!! you know I used to talk about owning one all time!!” spencer does know. you were an amazing baker, and the way you gushed and smiled over your job, almost made spencer feel giddy inside. he grins, a boyish and familiar sight.

“y/n, that’s amazing!! you truly are the best baker I’ve ever known.” you laugh, giving him a serious nod. “oh you bet I am!! so, back to you. big shot fbi agent, hm?” spencer dulls just slightly. but, of course, you notice. you’re about to spill out a string of apologies for even bringing it up but Spencer stops you before you even get the words out. “don’t apologize, it’s just hard. all the..victims, and cases. I used to think I was helping people. But now, it’s almost like im just losing myself more and more.”

your eyes get sad, a sympathetic look on your face. you know Spencer hates being pitied, but you couldn’t help it. “you are helping people. you always have spencer, that’s just the kind of you person you are! but trust me, we all get overwhelmed and we all get lost in things we don’t want to. im here, yeah?” you comfort him with your words, it was always something you were perfect at. you could always solve all of his problems, even for just a moment, with your words.

spencer looks deep in your eyes, for just a moment. “you haven’t changed at all, you know that, sunshine?” he mutters, his voice deep and gravely. you shiver at his tone. you couldn’t say the same for him. “you are completely different, did you know that?” he chuckles, his loose hold on your hand becoming just a bit firmer, his thumb rubbing lazily against the back of your hand. teenage spencer was your everything, but this new, more mature side of him? oh, you could get used to it.

you stir your drink with the straw, looking at him, lingering a bit too long. he was captivating, you felt drawn in by his presence. You weren’t sure if it was the slight buzz from the alcohol, or the adrenaline from seeing him, but you could not take your eyes off of him. obviously, Spencer had noticed. he laughed, the deep noise rumbling in your ears. “Careful there, sunshine. you keep looking at me like that..I might just start thinking im interesting.”

you laugh, Spencer always made you laugh. In every situation, every scenario. “Well we can’t have you grow an ego can we?” You nudge his chest playfully with your hand. Spencer is slightly stunned by the sudden and unexpected touch, but he raises an eyebrow and gives a slow nod.

“I don’t think I can help it..” you mutter.

“Help what?” He questions, looking down at you, his voice low.

“Staring at you.” You say, playing with you drink, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips.

“Good, I didn’t want you to stop anyway.” He plays along, getting bolder as the minutes pass.

you blushed at his words, spencer used to be a shy and awkward boy, and some of that old personality had shown through tonight. but right now, when it was just you and him. spencer was confident, and it was different. a good different. it made you never want to leave him again.

but It was staring to get late, and even though you both didn’t want to. You knew that this was going to have to end soon. But Spencer was determined, he wasn’t letting you go. Not again, not ever. He wouldn’t let it happen.

As the night began to wind down, you glanced at your phone, realizing how late it had gotten. You stood, your chair scraping softly against the floor. “I should probably head out,” you said, a hint of reluctance in your voice.

Spencer stood with you, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. He didn’t want the night to end, not yet.

As you reached for your bag, Spencer hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, his hand brushing lightly against yours. The contact made you pause, your eyes meeting his.

“Y/N…” His voice was quiet but firm, his usual nervousness softened by something deeper. “I don’t want to wait another ten years to see you again.”

The sincerity in his words made your chest tighten. You smiled, warmth flooding your features as you reached up and gently pushed a strand of his longer hair out of his face. “You won’t have to, Spence,” you said softly.

For a moment, it was just the two of you, the noise of the bar fading into the background. Spencer’s lips curled into a rare, boyish grin, the kind you hadn’t seen in years, as you slipped your hand into his.

It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it didn’t need to be. As the two of you walked toward the exit together, his hand still resting in yours, it felt like the first step toward something you’d both been waiting for, even if neither of you realized it until now.

And for Spencer, for the first time in years, the world felt just a little brighter.

[shanklin]

In a world where the belief of humans can create gods and deities, Stan dies from an infection soon after losing Ford.

It’s just a minor setback! Or so Ghost!Stan tells himself as he tries desperately to figure out how to touch stuff again. It doesn’t help that Ford warded most of his things against ghosts.

One day while practicing to become corporeal Stan comes across a couple of weird creatures [a gorilla wearing underwear? Unicorn made out of corn? A horse riding another horse? What?] ranting about Bigfoot and how stuck up she’s gotten ever since she ascended to godhood just because some crazy fanatics turned the hunt for her into a cult.

Meanwhile smaller szories and folktales like them are trying their hardest to survive. But peoples belief is fading and soon they will be forgotten and cease to exist.

This changes everything! Stan knows a great business opportunity when he sees it!

It’s almost too easy to abuse the system.

Religion has always been a scam in Stan's opinion. So he might as well turn himself into a god.

Good thing Ford did all the hard work for him by becoming the mysterious science man in the woods. All Stan has to do is to make himself visible long to create Mr. Mystery.

The belief of the townsfolk grants Stan enough strength to become corporeal and soon enough Stan opens his temple [tourist trap] for business. 

People pilgrimage to his holy ground, pay tithings [entrance fees] listen to his sermons [tours] and leave offerings [cash] in exchange for blessings [cheap souvenirs Stan tells them will bring them luck]. They even take little statues of him back home and convert others to believe in him as well. [It's a fun tourist trap why wouldn't you believe the owner exists].

Eventually he even gets his own priests [employees] to help him out.

In exchange for favours Stan also promotes the almost forgotten and fading folktales he meets. They quickly become his most loyal followers. Stan may have scammed his way into godhood at record speed but he still cares for the little guys. He’s saving their lives and they could not be more grateful. 

The other gods however HATE him but cant do anything about it because he's not technically breaking any rules.

With every new believer Stan grows stronger and changes.

His lies turn into reality. His souvenirs become actual blessed artifacts protecting the owners and Stan becomes one with Gravity Falls. Its true protective deity. Time has no meaning and throws up a barrier protecting his home. The same one Ford has already studied in the past.

And when the zodiac fails and Stan tells Bill that that doesn’t matter because Bill will die here, Gravity Falls rumbles with excitement.

Stan spins a story about the deity protecting this land and how they will not allow Bill to break the barrier or harm them any further.

All Stan needs for everyone to do is to close their eyes and pray.

“Stan, we don't have time for your ridiculous lies!”

“Just once in your life do as I say and believe in me, Sixer!”

The people of Gravity Falls have surprising faith in their local conman and so do the kids. With no other options left Ford closes his eyes and says a short prayer.

When he opens his eyes again the world is engulfed in blue flames and before him stands the young form of his brother surrounded by the real life versions of fake tourist attractions.

Stan puts on his holy knuckle dusters and grins. 

[in-cis-and-het-collector]

This doesn't even feel like a cishet AU anymore it's just the douchebag timeline

kinda? unsure about this one, so sorry in advance. putting it under spoiler because

ICAH as far as I can tell has always been based around "what if the complex and fleshed out characters of ISAT were replaced with stereotypes?" with everyone getting turned into cishet stereotypes version of themselves except for Bonnie, who was left off to the side because they're Bonnie.

Then the Bonnie versions were released, and shortly after it became "Bonnie ISAT is stuck in ICAH" with Loop having been killed off screen for being too gay. This turned the stereotypes into more of an invasion of the bodysnatchers thing, and painted their reductive goofy existence with the curse of existing as creatures.

Most peoples instinctive reaction to this was "oh dear god I'm going to puke bleargh" which. y'know. fair. But some people started making art n short blurbs in universe, and it became "crabbed-up evil wishcraft has destroyed the world, leaving Bonnie and Loop(?) to try and fix it".

Around this point Siffrins general need for a mask and self loathing started to get mixed into Cisfrins caricature, making it more toxic and bringing a new layer to the general "man would this be fucked up or what?" or it all. So now we have a family who wants to "fix" Bonnie if they find out, wishcraft enforced hetero normative values, and a few different versions out there.

At some point Isabeau became a gymbro, Odile turned into a "loving wife" who would post minion memes, Mirabelle is some flavor of christian priest and probably has been her whole life, and Siffrin is somewhere around frat bro and redneck (i think? unsure) so they all suck in their own special way with Bonnie who needs to try and fix this, Loop who needs to keep Bonnie safe, the ISAT crew watching in despair (with loop remembrance?) and the King is having an aneurysm about being right, which gives him and Bonnie their own special version of the "remember a country that no longer exists that you both want to save but cant" thing that Siffrin usually has.

We're now generally dealing with the question of "what if they are all eggs too afraid of rejection to hatch and they need to all admit their insecurities for ????? to happen" and few other things going on. I really like this bit because you can work in stuff like the ISAT party trying to help, or alternate familyquests, or the Cisabeau x Cisfrin angle, or both Mirabelle and Miracis learning to adapt their view of their religion to accept themselves. very fun, very neat.

They have kinda been douchebags for most of it, so I don't understand that bit and for that I'm sorry, but the fact they suck is part of the fun!

sorry about the ramble, have a good one!

[arbitrarykiwi]

Hii!! I love your writing sm so can i request a reader x thanos and nam-gyu (but mostly nam-gyu hehe) where they are like really close friends like before the games, they always used to hang out at eachothers apartments, smoked weed and all that shit. And when reader went to the games without telling anyone and she saw nam-gyu and thanos and they got really mad at reader for not telling them where she was going (even tho they did the same) but then became like rlly protective over reader throughout the games.

(I’m so sorry if it doesn’t make sense, i’m really bad with english but i tried my best 😭)

FIRST OF ALLL THANK YOU FOR MY VERY FIRST REQUEST?!

OUUU this is so fun?!!! I read smoke weed with Thanos AND Nam-gyu and was IN!!

I made definitely it pretty much straight up Nam-gyu x reader x Thanos, def more centered to Nam-gyu though! I just got too excited 😩 so you got your two boyfriends malewives

I hope you like it 🫶😩😩🫶

Warnings: 18+ drug usage, weed smoking, some mildly spicy parts, two boyfriends!!, all yall are in debt, proof read but prolly got spelling errors, in a universe where thanos and nam-gyu are besties before the squid games, probably ooc thanos and nam-gyu, i cant think of anything else.

You’re not sure exactly what your relationship with the two of them. You never cared to ask. But fuck was it so nice.

You suppose you could say you were dating Nam-gyu, you’ve known him for a while, hanging around the same group of people, eventually ending up becoming friends with benefits- then more. You’ve gone out on dates, done many things that have exceeded the “friends with benefits” label but have never gone to call it anything. And you knew neither of you were seeing anyone else…

Well no one else besides Choi Su-bong, or Thanos as he prefers to be called. He came into the picture shortly after you and Nam-gyu have been seeing each other. The best friends they were, they had to just share something as sweet as you.

It was odd. In a good way. You never thought you’d find yourself in this situation. And you didn’t mind it one bit.

They were like your two boyfriends. Though Nam-gyu makes it very obvious you were with him first and he was being gracious to share you with Thanos. The wild purple haired rapper would happily agree, finding this a more than favorable situation. It was the one thing Nam-gyu knew he had over Thanos.

They were strangely, overprotective, spoil you (in more ways than one), and after a night of partying or promoting that sleazy club- they always returned to your apartment.

Always returned to you. Always found themselves in your bed- sandwiching you between them as they pass the blunt back and forth over you- taking turns to shotgunning the smoke into your mouth. Hands gripping your jaw or throat to guide your face back and forth between their kisses.

And you loved it.

When they would practically bust down your apartment door in a pill induced haze, four hands fighting with the key you gave them to unlock it- it wasn’t going well considering they were both tripping in ways you never cared to imagine. Both of the needing to get their hands on you, to feel you- you’d meet them at the door, pulling it open to be bombarded by their groping hands and excited kisses.

And after multiple hours, and multiple rounds in positions you’ve only dreamed of- you always found yourself entangled in a sweaty mess of limbs passing the blunt over to the two of them as they came down from their highs.

“Always so good f’us.” Thanos mumbled from his spot lying on your stomach, arm splayed over your torso, keeping you pinned to the bed, placing light kisses over the bruises Nam-gyu left on your skin.

“I know… isn’t she just perfect… n’ she’s all ours” Nam-gyu would respond, placing opening mouth kisses along your neck, one of his hands placed over your breast, just kneading the flesh as if it was his own personal stress ball. They often talked like that- as if you weren’t there, just gushing to each other about how much they adore you (or how well you take both of them).

When you’d have a hard day at work, telling both of them you’re not feeling up to hanging out, just wanting to go home alone and go to bed, they would pick the fucking lock on your apartment, breaking in to make themselves comfy on your bed.

When you’d come home exhausted- not even realizing the lock was picked because they locked it behind them- and walk across your living room, down a hallway and open up your bedroom door, head lifting from the floor seeing two people you didn’t expect to be there in your bed- You’d scream, dropping your stuff.

You’d gather yourself, seeing them both shirtless on your bed, both leaned over a rolling tray that’s in between them, working to roll blunts.

Thanos is stopping to hit his vape as he places the ground up weed into the wrap, tattoos on full view. His hair is messy, but it’s not spiked up- instead it’s down in its natural state, a slight wave to the strands.

Nam-gyu even has his glasses on- something he knows you love and beg him to wear more. His hair tucked behind his ear as his ringed fingers work on his own blunt. When he wraps it, his tongue comes out of his mouth to lathe across the wrap of the blunt to seal it.

It’s a beautiful sight. Truly. But did they have to scare the life out of you?!!

“Woahhh! Easy there beautiful!” Thanos would say, sitting up from his spot on your bed, hands thrown up in a mock defensive position. They’re both giggling, find your scream and reaction to them oh so enjoyable. “Calm down baby, s’just us.” Nam-gyu would echo, holding out the finished blunt to you. “You said you were havin’ a rough day. Figure we could make it a personal night.” He hums.

You let out a sigh, your heart still racing. You glare at them angrily, clutching your chest. But it doesn’t stay long, you loosen up, shoulders dropping and nodding with a pout. A personal night is just what you need. On rare occasions you didn’t share a blunt between the three of you, three blunts would be rolled- one for each of you.

You kick off your shoes and pull off your jeans before crawling on the bed. They move the rolling tray, and you plop down on the bed face first in between them. You inhale, the scent of both of them stuck on your sheets. Their hands immediately begin to run up and down your back and arms, feather light touches calming you down.

“You guys suck for breaking in here.” Your words are muffled by the pillows of your bed. They both laugh, Nam-gyu leaning further down, hand moving up to brush your hair back. You turn your face to him, playfully glaring at him. He just scoffs at your attitude, leaning down and placing a kiss on your lips. It’s soft and sweet, just what you needed after a long day.

“But ‘s just what you needed, huh?” Thanos says, leaning over you to begin peppering kisses along the back of your shoulder and down your back. He moves back up, your head turning to look at him and nodding. “Mhm…” you mumble out in a tired sound. He leans down, connecting his lips with yours- same as Nam-gyu, though his kiss is a bit more rough.

When he pulls away you flip yourself over onto your back a smile spreading across your lips as you look up to both of them looking over you, pupils already blown and eyes red. “Oh you fucks!! You started without me!”

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t help it…we had to sample the product before we came.” Nam-gyu says with a drugged out smile. You roll your eyes and playfully shove both them back while you sit up. “Whatever! Y’all are losers!! Now give me my blunt.” You tease, holding out your hand.

Thanos provides you with the blunt, placing a kiss on your knuckles as you retract your hand. You place the blunt to your lips, turning your head towards Nam-gyu who holds the lighter. He scoots closer, cupping his hand around the end of your blunt to shield your face, lighting the end.

They both sit back as they watch you take your first inhale. The smoke fills your lungs with a comforting heat, pouring out of your mouth in thick swirling trails. When you put the blunt back up to your mouth, taking a drag, the cherry lighting up in a vibrant red-orange, the both lean into you, each with a blunt hanging from their lips.

The ends of their blunts come into contact with yours, and as you continue to inhale- their blunts begin to spark and ignite. They pull back, inhaling their own fill of the weed they bought.

So there you’d be, in just a tank top and panties, both your doting male companions curled up on the bed on either side of you. Nam-guy’s head was laid on your right thigh while Thanos was laid on your left thigh.

With the hand that’s not bringing the blunt to your mouth, you’d have it brushing through their hair. You’d have to switch which hand you’re smoking with every so often as they would complain if you’d been neglecting them for too long (it would only ever be a couple minutes, they just can’t get enough of your attention!)

Other nights you found yourselves up late into the night, each doing your own thing just simply enjoying the presence of one another.

There was one hot summer night, it was so hot you were only wearing a pair of shorts and a cut off shirt of Thanos’ that you borrowed. You had three fans going in your room yet it never seemed like enough.

You were partially propped up on your bed, resting on your elbows and the inside of your knees, your head at the food end of the bed, leaning over the edge to play with Nam-gyu’s hair while he sits on the floor.

Nam-gyu was sitting with his back to the foot of the bed, legs stretched out in front of him, his finger working rapidly against the joysticks of the controller that he held in his lap, his eyes trained on the video game his was playing. He wouldn’t admit it but it was hard to focus with how nice your fingers felt playing with his hair. Nails lightly raking against his scalp as you brush the dark strands back and out of his face, fingertips brushing against his ears every so often causing goosebumps to erupt over his arms despite the hot temperatures of the room.

Thanos wasn’t absent. He was situated behind you, back against a pile of pillows so he could sit farther up on the bed rather than against the head board. He scrolls lazily on his phone, his legs spread a little so you were situated nicely against him, your legs over his, your ass nestled nicely against his lap. He uses your ass as a shelf, propping his wrist up as he aimlessly taps through his apps. His other hand is under your shorts, just resting against the flesh of your ass, squeezing the flesh softly every once in a while- he really just loved to touch you.

You’d stay like this for hours, sometimes Thanos would send you a video, your hands would depart from Nam-gyu’s hair for a moment to grab your phone and watch what he sent- laughing along with him at the video. When you’d put your phone down and turn back to Nam-gyu you’d see he had paused the game and tilted his head back to look at you with a frown.

It would only make you giggle, scooting forward a bit to lean over the bed to grab his face and place a kiss on his forehead, mumbling an ‘you’re so needy’ before returning your hands to his hair- and he resumes the game.

And you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

However….

You knew running with them and the crowd you found yourself in even before you were entangled with them, it was never a safe option. Too often you heard them complaining about the debt they found themselves in- doing nothing to stop it and even making it worse with lavish parties and binges.

You yourself found yourself in hot waters, trying your best to both help them and keep yourself afloat. It wasn’t easy, all three of you were in debt. You really, really cared for both of them, but neither of them were on the best path. You couldn’t speak much better about yourself. Regardless, bills were unforgivable and work didn’t pay well. If you had all the money in the world you’d pay everything off and build a house for the three of you in some far off secluded area away from the world that was out to get all of you.

So of course when a strange, well dressed man with a brief case offered you a large amount of money to play a child’s game in the subway late one night- you couldn’t say no.

You played and played, losing more times than you can count. Repeating the same cycle of throwing the paper square, winning a few rounds before eventually having a hand collide with your cheek. And when he eventually called the game, even after your cheek is bruised and you’re begging to play again, he simply hands you brown paper card and bows- packing up his brief case with the colorful origami squares.

Before he leaves, he promises that more money, even more than you won with that game, will come if you call that number on the back of the card.

You sat in that subway for hours, missing your bus to just sit on the metal bench. In one hand you held the large sum of money you won- it would definitely help you but it wouldn’t do anything to touch the amount of debt you were in.

You return home, thankful they were both passed out in your bed. You smile to yourself, looking to them in the bed. They’re both just in boxers, very obviously having fallen asleep on opposite sides of the bed but had migrated towards each other, in a tangle of what you would call cuddling- but if you told them that what they were doing they’d definitely deny it.

It’s a sweet secret you keep to yourself. Your boys. It was just what you needed after coming home from what you just experienced. You silently shed your clothes, putting on one of Nam-gyu’s shirts, the fabric swallowing you.

You crawl into the bed, trying your best not to wake them. You settled into between them, they both stir- sleepy mumbles and acknowledgment of your presence coming out of their lips. It’s like second nature to them as they curl around your form.

Nam-gyu’s arm falls around your torso, squeezing your waist. He settles his head right in the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose along your flesh, placing a light kiss as he falls back asleep. Thanos is rested against your breast on the opposite side, arm resting on top of your stomach, right under Nam-gyu’s.

A smile spreads across your face, your eyes feeling heavy. You fall asleep quickly, the warmth of both their bodies enveloping you in a heavenly wave of comfort. The worry of debt could wait just a bit longer….

But eventually you called that number. You needed anything to help you keep yourself afloat. And after a very cryptic phone call with an automated voice, you’re given a pick up location and a date and time.

You enter into the limousine cautiously, were you really about to do this? The looming threat of eviction and debt that seems to keep rising pushes you forward. You take the handle into your shaky hands and open the black door. The interior is just as luxurious as the exterior.

You settle into the seat, body stiff and heart racing. When your eyes settle to in front of you. You see a golden piggy bank. You can hear your heart beat in your ears, your leg is bouncing anxiously. You can’t even focus on what the pig that’s seemingly a speaker is saying.

“Are you sure you’d like to continue?” The sentence brings you back out of your haze. You swallow thickly and nod. You curse to yourself, the fucking piggybank can’t see you. “Y-yes.” You croak out.

It’s silent for a moment. Almost like the golden pig is contemplating your answer. Then there’s a fog filling the car. You’re panicked, eyes wide as you inhale the gas. What the fuck did you get yourself into?

It’s not long before your eyes are heavy and whatever type of gas that was knocks you clean out.

————/————

A loud tune playing on what sounds like over head speakers is causing you to groan and stir. Your eyes open but are soon shut back, blinded by the large florescent lights that line the ceiling of where ever you are. You groan, sitting up. You open your eyes again, squinting them and looking down to try and adjust to the light.

You’re on a bed you see. It’s high up. It looks over what seems like hundreds of other beds, hundreds of people beginning to wake up like you. You see they’re all in matching track suits, all sporting different numbers. You furrow your eyebrows, confused. Your memory was foggy but you knew you were going to join some games for money- and this was not what you were expecting.

You look out over the room, it’s a large warehouse like area. Bricks and various drawings line the walls. You kneel, trying to get a better look. Up front there’s a raised area, almost like a stage. There also seems to be only three doors in this large room. One large one behind the raised platform of the room and two smaller ones level with the ground on either side of the raised platform. None of them had handles.

Seriously, what the fuck did you get yourself into?!?!

You watch as people begin to file out of the beds, congregating in the center of the room, exchanging confused and uneasy glances at their new roommates. If you weren’t so on edge you would have thought this was neat, like a social experiment of abnormal gatherings and you were the onlooking researcher. But you weren’t the researcher, you were also one of the guinea pigs stuck in the experiment.

You stay put, figuring it’s best to stay back as the majority of people decent into the middle of the room. Your eyes dart around anxiously, trying to take in every last detail of the brick prison you’ve woken up in.

Your attention is drawn back to the podium when the large door opens, multiple masked guards walk out, in pink tracksuits with shapes on their masks. This is so fucking weird. You thought to yourself. They begin to explain why you are all here- that you all called that same number.

You watch as someone calls out, angrily shouting about how they were drugged and basically kidnapped. You hear murmurs of “yeah”’s fall out of other people’s mouths, agreeing with the stranger.

From the high bunk you found yourself on you, looked at the guards, standing stoically as the hundreds of individuals begin to angrily talk over each other. Yelling out to the guards about belongings and being stripped naked to be put in these track suits. You didn’t bother to chime in, already feeling weird enough about this situation you woke up in, you did not need more attention on you.

That’s when a familiar voice pipes up. He’s arguing with the guards. Over shoes of all things. Your eyes dart over the crowd hoping you wouldn’t see what you thought you would….but you did….purple hair.

It can’t be him. You think to yourself. You’re hoping it isn’t, there’s plenty of other people who have purple hair. But when the guard retaliates by playing a video on the large screen behind them, your heart drops.

“Choi Su-bong, player 230…” you don’t even hear what else the guard says, your eyes are trained to the screen watching your purple hair partner hit his vape.

So it is him…

Your eyes dart down to the bright purple hair in the sea of players. Next to Thanos, leaning up against his back over his shoulder is Nam-gyu. You can tell it’s him. Your heart drops…they’re both here. They both played that same game you did, more than likely getting slapped, then getting drugged and eventually ending up exactly where you were.

You were pissed. Was it irrational? Yes, you made the exact same choice they did. But you were the voice of reason in whatever relationship you three had, they promised you they wouldn’t do anything dumb- yet here they are. It’s dumb for you to be here too but hey! You’re the angel out of the three of them, you deserved to do something dumb.

You were about to make your way down the stairs, to haul yourself through the sea of people to scold them but when the guard at the podium says your name- throwing the video of you getting slapped and your debt amount to the mass of players- you know you’re fucked.

You can see the way both of their shoulders fall, the way both of them tense up. Then they’re both rapidly looking around, you know they’re about to scold you. You swear to yourself, of course all three of you signed up for some sketchy game after getting slapped by some creepy salesman. Just your luck.

Your eyes widen like a deer in headlights when you realize Nam-gyu has spotted you. It’s like a sniper looking down the scope at their target. You can see him nudge Thanos, pointing you out to the purple haired man.

You know you’re about to get reamed.

They both look at you, it’s a strange mix of relief, worry and anger. You’re literally frozen like a kid who got caught sneaking cookies in the middle of the night- thinking that if you freeze on spot you won’t be able to be seen.

The crowd begins to mumble to each other, a mix of hushed whispers and angered shouts. You see them begin to push through the crowd and you sigh- you know you might as well accept your fate. If you were in this strange place in this very unique situation- at least you’re with them. You make your way down the metal stairs, eyebrows furrowed- thankful you had them here but pissed off that they went ahead and gambled again- sure you’re a hypocrite for doing the same thing….but that’s different. Right?

When you get to the bottom of the metal stairs, white sneakers hitting the concrete floor they’re shoving past the last wall of people and walking quickly towards you. You begin to open your mouth to scold them but Thanos is picking you up off your feet and pushing you into the corner of the room- under the metal bunks and away from the other players.

Nam-gyu is right behind him, a scowl on his face.

They didn’t know what was going down here in this place you all found yourself waking up in, but they knew they didn’t need these other people here spying in on your relationship. They were both narcissists at heart- they wanted to keep up appearances.

You’re caged into the wall, looking up at them defiantly, trying to keep your look of anger as they tower over you.

If it was any other situation you would have found it hot- the way they look over you, both glaring down at you with a look of disappointment and and the usual hunger they have when they look at you. But you’re so mad at them. You can’t believe they did the same thing you did. You also didn’t even know the extent of Thanos’ debt, you can only imagine what Nam-gyu’s was, and there they were, obviously having gambling away with the same creepy subway salesman to have made it here.

It doesn’t matter that you did the same thing.

They’re both equally as angry. For one you were in the subway alone in the middle of the night, as evidence from the video the guards played- something they hated you doing. One or both of them would show up to accompany you to where ever you needed to go like guard dogs. Why didn’t you text them to ask them to come with you like you normally would when you had to go somewhere?

And for as much as they knew about you, you kept your debt private. So the fact you were even here- they now knew you obviously were in the same shit they were in. They both were irritated you didn’t tell them, they would have helped you (even though they literally didn’t have the money to).

You look to their jackets. The numbers 124 and 230 stitched to the patch of the jacket. You look down at yours 014. You wonder if the numbers had anything to do with who called that damned number first- securing their spot in this game earlier. If it was…you apparently called in first.

It seems the stare down ends when you all speak at once, the tension finally reaching its boiling point

“You dumb motherfuckers!”

“Are you stupid?!”

“Señorita! Why are you here???”

You all kind of stand there for a second after all speaking hushed angry whispers. All sharing a similar look of anger. “You went to the subway alone at night!?” Nam-gyu begins to scold. “You were all on our asses about gambling and look- there you were gambling and getting slapped in the subway!” Thanos says, his tone angry but his voice is still in a hushed whisper.

You immediately turn to Thanos, shoving an accusatory finger to his sternum, “I’m not the one 1.19 billion in the hole.” You seethe. That seems to shut him up, obviously angering him even more but he just clenches his jaw.

“Okay, well you’re obviously in debt too if you’re here” Nam-gyu begins trying to defend both of them. You whip your head towards him, your look is enough to kill a man. He is faced with the realization that a lot of your debt probably stems from being with them- being around them. They both don’t have the best lifestyle and neither do you, hell you were running the same game they were when Nam-gyu met you, you were tripping at a club when he first met you- you weren’t exactly a saint. Nam-gyu always thought you could do better than that, than them. But you never ran from them, sure you were way less wild than when he first met you, but you still kept around the same people and surrounded yourself with the lifestyle.

Nam-gyu can speak, instead he surges forward, pulling you into him and wrapping one arm around your waist- the other cradling your head against his chest. He didn’t like knowing that you went through the same process he did with getting into this situation. He didn’t like knowing that he was part of the reason you were here. He didn’t like knowing you were now stuck in this same prison of unknowns that they were. You didn’t deserve it.

You’re squished against him, head facing towards Thanos who’s still staring at you disapprovingly but it’s so much softer than before. You make a useless attempt at frowning at him, although your cheeks are squished under Nam-guy’s hold- making it look like an adorable pout.

He smiles, it’s a small one- but a smile nonetheless, reaching over to smooth out your hair and cup your cheek- the same one he witnessed you getting slapped on by that salesman. “Can’t believe he touched you like that…” He mumbles, it’s a low growl.

“You’re so fucking stupid for coming here….” Nam-gyu mumbles, his words harsh but you can tell it’s because he’s genuinely worried, his mind replaying that dammed video those guards blasted on the big screen. “I’ll kill that sleazy fuck who did that to you..” he says, his hands shaking against you as he keeps you cradled against him.

You let out a huff, pulling apart from Nam-gyu to lightly shove his chest, then turning to Thanos to do the same. “I’m stupid?! You two did the same thing!! After I told both of you to quit wasting your money- which encompasses gambling on some kid game and coming here!” You huff out looking between both of them.

“Baby, we just wanted to get some money f’us.” Nam-gyu says, hands coming up to cup your cheeks, squishing them inwards. His voice is sickeningly sweet, you know he’s trying to con you out of your anger, manipulating you how he wanted to get his way. And it works

“You’re both schtill so dumb n I’m schtill mad.” You hiss, words slurred by Nam-guy’s hands. Your eyebrows furrowed and lips turned into a pout- although it’s a sorry excuse for one with the way his hands are pressing your cheeks together. The two men laugh, it’s a precious sight truly.

So mad at them but still so adorable, like an angry little kitten. “Mhm…bet you are you lil’ minx.” Nam-gyu coos at you with a wide grin on his face- you can’t help but to ease up, the feeling of his twitching hands holding your face and his wide smile makes your heart swell.

“You also pulled the same dumb fuckin move though, princess.” Thanos says, his voice scolding but he’s smiling along with Nam-gyu.

The guards up front are beginning to say something about signing a waiver to continue to play, the players beginning to line up.

“So just stick by us n we’ll keep ya safe. With all three of us here we will make so much money.” Nam-gyu sings to you in a sickly sweet tone that you know is going to make you lose your anger. You can’t stay mad at him for long.

But you’re still about to protest- yes money sounds amazing but being drugged to get here, stripped of your clothes and put into matching tracksuits- something isn’t right. Nam-gyu shuts you up by placing a kiss on your lips. It’s slow, making your knees weak, making sure you feel every inch of his lips. And when he pulls back Thanos takes his place, kissing you, it’s a soft but eager, your mind going blank with kisses from both of them. Any retaliation you could think of was washed away by their lips- which is exactly what they wanted.

“C’mon princess, go sign it so we can all win big and get these games on the road.” Thanos says pulling away and pushing you lightly out in front of them. Nam-gyu places a light slap on your ass before following directly behind you.

The two of them walking so their chests practically touch your back. And when you go up and sign the paper, they cheer you on from the crowd.

It’s impossible for anyone to get near you in the games without the two of them, one over each shoulder judging the person to see if they’re good enough to be near you. With your two guard dogs protecting you, you three are unstoppable.

[sheep-from-rad]

[[Disclaimer]]: this fic is not meant to offend anyone who practices. Thank you. Also most headcanons I wrote here are the ones that I know. Lastly, in addition to the previous sentence, my knowledge might not be the same as what other people do. Not every practice is the same and thus should not be generalized. Thank you again :D dividers by: @adornedwithlight

. . . Okay but imagine a Witch! Yuu getting transported/isekai-d to Twisted Wonderland instead 

Witch! Yuu who spends breaks and vacant periods studying about the new world in the library. From time to time Professor Trein will join them for tea and discussions. I like to think that Professor Trein and maybe even Lilia will personally take Witch! Yuu into a mentorship. Yuu learns about the magic and history of Twisted Wonderland and they share knowledge about their own world. I can also see Malleus and Riddle joining this. Not every practitioner chooses to work with deities, angels, or infernals (because like I said, every practice is unique) but discussing them with these people will be really fun. Fun like eye opening and fun like existential crisis inducing. 

Witch! Yuu who was met by a raised eyebrow from Master Crewel when they started using moonwater on their potion. Master Crewel initially hesitated but their potion came out great and the effect is even greater. Soon enough after being told to remain after class, Crewel now makes and tests moonwater on other potions. Vil who learnt that moonwater is good for skin had also started using it on his routine, using it for morning and night face wash. Moonwater also became a debate to Octavinelle members especially by Azul and Jade. The idea of living inside a powerful source of magic and not harnessing it properly, Azul felt like he was cheated and felt like he just lost imaginary madols. 

Witch! Yuu who bonds a lot with Sam. The two can spend hours trying the decks and providing free readings to the customers (and pitching them to buy the deck). It started as a small gimmick due to the oversupply of cards but now it has become a permanent addition to the shop and Witch! Yuu gets at least 15% cut to each card sale and store discount. 

Witch! Yuu who aces their biology lessons because of their knowledge of herbs. They have traded notes with the other first years and were even approached by higher year students who have hard time memorizing. Ace jokingly tried Witch!Yuu to make those paid tutorial notes but Witch! Yuu doesn’t want to dethrone Azul’s business. The land around Ramshackle turned out to be rich enough to have herbs and vegetables buried around it. Ruggie gets his fair share of harvest too, in exchange for a watering job. Whenever there’s a leftover in the harvest, Witch!Yuu makes tea brews for their friends, personalized for their needs. 

Witch! Yuu who has Cater on their top contact because he provides them with the monthly moon phases and astrological phenomenon around Twisted Wonderland. Cater too had to ask permission from Riddle every week so him and the Witch! Yuu can meet at the NRC observatory for moon gazing and stargazing sessions. The weekly moon gazing and Witch! Yuu’s company made Cater’s self-talk kinder and he also gained more following because of the beautiful night sky pictures he posts every week. 

Witch! Yuu who tags along with Jade on his mountain hiking trips. Jade is mostly there to pick up new mushrooms while Witch! Yuu is out there to pick up bones and crystals. Sam has a sale of those in this shop but there’s a certain excitement in picking your own stuff, immersing yourself in nature, and it also helps them familiarize and map out places in Twisted wonderland. Jade may or may not have tried pursuing them to join the Octavinelle group. 

Witch! Yuu who buried a protection jar to places where overblot happened (minus dwarves’ mine). Witch! Yuu doesn’t know if Crowley ever looks back to the places where each incident happened so they took it upon themselves to make a move. Heartslabyul’s protection jar is buried under the rose hedge. Savanaclaw’s protection jar is buried under the benches (they can’t put it right on the field because it can break and that’s dangerous for the players). Octavinelle’s protection jar is hidden inside the vault, Witch! Yuu gave it to them after the incident. 

Scarabia’s jar is hidden inside the treasure room. No one really goes there so it’s safe. If ever someone tries to go there, the Magic carpet is tasked to either hide it or take it away and fly away. Pomefiore gets two jar: One for the overblot location (Coliseum) and one for Pomefiore dorm. The coliseum’s jar is hidden in some unknown location behind the stage and the Pomefiore’s jar is buried in the woods. It’s hard to slip back into Ignihyde’s dorm without alerting anyone which is why their jar is on Ortho’s safekeeping. Diasomnia gets two jars as well. One is buried in the castle basement and one is given to Lilia. 

Witch! Yuu created one for Ramshackle as well. They gave it to the ghosts for safekeeping. Witch! Yuu hopes that it keeps Grim safe even when they have already left Twisted Wonderland.

[ayrtonswnna]

⠀⠀⠀LITTLE PRINCESS 〃 george russell oneshot.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ drop a request! ↳ check my masterlist!

⠀⠀⠀george russell x lianna hamilton (hamilton!female oc)

lianna goes on a skiing trip with her brother and his team crew. her historical bickering with george russell turns to something else. ↳ fluff/crack. 4.6k words.

warnings: making out (like... twice. but good provocative making out), author recently started to get some british english studies so it might have gotten a bit carried away, characters with a backstory, lewis hamilton older brother core™ , george being really good with words, spoiled and petty character.

"Imagine you're cold, your brand-new-expensive Moon Boots are wet, you've just lost your favorite Vivienne Westwood necklace, you can't drive to save your life, your hair’s frizzy from the weather, and your older brother keeps talking about how much of a blessing it is to enjoy nature. Life is tough! Too tough!"

Lianna didn’t think joining her brother on this skiing trip would be such a disaster. She imagined cute outfits, sipping hot chocolate by a roaring fire, and maybe getting a few aesthetic paparazzi snaps for good measure. Instead? Wet boots, freezing wind, and an actual uphill climb.

“Lianna, for God’s sake!” Lewis groaned, turning back to stomp a footprint into the snow. “Can you stop whining for five bloody minutes? It’s not the first necklace you lose- and no one forced you to come. And if you don’t stop, I’ll nick those Moon Boots myself, and you can do the rest of the walk barefoot.”

“Wow. Just wow. This is who you call an idol, people? I’d be embarrassed.” She huffed, adjusting her oversized backpack like the world’s most annoyed mountain climber. “Next time, we’re going to Ibiza. Or Mykonos. Somewhere civilised. I’ll start shopping for bikinis as soon as we’re back.”

“Next time,” a voice in the back muttered. “you’ll be in red with Charles Leclerc for company. Keep up, Little Princess.”

Before she could snap back, George Russell breezed past her like he was strolling through Hyde Park, not hiking up a snowy mountain.

“Feeling sad, Mr. Russell? Gonna miss me this much?”

Mutual pining at its finest; that was their thing. George’s endless teasing, her exaggerated reactions — it was like they had their own language.

“You can’t imagine how much, Miss Little Princess,” he replied with a smirk, offering her a hand as they reached a particularly icy bit. “Now come on, or you’ll end up stuck here till spring.”

Lianna sighed dramatically but took his hand anyway. “If I fall, ruin my coat, or twist my ankle, you owe me a new outfit. And not your boring beige nonsense.”

“Noted, Miss Neon Everything.”

When they finally made it to the rented chalet — a cozy wooden house with floor-to-ceiling windows and a roaring fire — it was a much-needed respite. Lianna threw herself into the nearest armchair with a dramatic groan.

Lewis, ever the drill sergeant, clapped his hands together. “Right, we’re hitting the slopes this afternoon. Who’s in?”

Most of the group chimed in enthusiastically, but Lianna didn’t even flinch. “Absolutely not. I’m staying here. Where it’s warm. Like a normal person.”

George, leaning against the doorframe, grinned. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on the princess. Can’t leave her alone with all this nature.”

Lewis rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “Fine. Try not to kill each other.”

The door clicked shut, and Lianna and George were left alone in the quiet warmth of the house. The youngest Hamilton groaned, tugging a throw blanket over herself.

At least they had phone area; she had some good real fun with Tiktoks before she could feel the pair of eyes over her.

“What?” she snapped, looking up.

“Nothing,” George said, trying to suppress a grin, coming back from the kitchen. “Just enjoying the theatrics. You could’ve been an actress, you know.”

“It is just not fair, my drama is really valid. You numpty.” she muttered, fidgeting with her sweater. “My boots are ruined, my mood is ruined, and now I’m stuck here with you.”

He chuckled, plopping onto the couch beside her. “Admit it, you’d be bored out of your mind without me.”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “I thrive in solitude.”

“Is that why you always find me at events?” George teased. “Or why you made sure it was me driving you home after my birthday?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she threw him a pillow without hesitating. "Everyone else was smashed, and you kept offering, like, three times. I said I’d just grab an Uber, but you bolted to get the keys like it was life or death."

“If it helps you sleep at night…” He just smiled, leaning back like he had all the time in the world. “You’re gonna miss me, though. Once you’re off in Italy with Lewis.”

“Nahhh… Not at all. Maybe just some of your paddock fits, and your private jet- Oh, I love the jet. But you?” her nose crunched, ready to keep the yapping but caught off guard when she took a few seconds to look up at him.

The damn blue eyes and the prince posture, even relaxed by the couch. Something like comfort floating in between them and the freedom the driver had while scanning her face.

Her bravado faltered for a moment; he seemed so sure of what he was doing that he even leaned closer. “Maybe a tiny bit, right? We can agree on that.”

She caught her breath. “Us? Agreeing? No way on God’s green earth.”

“You’ll be gutted when I’m not around, admit it.” he winked, in a cheesy way he knew would make her laugh. He is in fact really good with that. “Unlike you, Little princess, I am fully able to recognize I will miss making fun of your over-expensive clothes and your crying when Lew wins- and the tantrums over food! I’ll even miss that...”

“Oh! You clot! I dress well and I cry a lot - my brother is the biggest winner in your sport and I don’t enjoy much food besides mom’s. And the actual problem here is how obsessed you are with me! That’s a lot of information.”

“Obsessed? Nah, that’s too much” he said quietly, “But I guess I really do notice you a lot. You’ve got a presence.”

She blinked, her cockiness crumbling. “Don’t expect me to say anything like that about you- I only notice your boring clothes and your radio calls because they’re funny.”

“Again, if it helps you sleep at night…” he replied, his head only tilted more and more to the side, closer and closer to her. She’s noticed, of course she did. Suddenly it’s getting hot; and they're in the middle of the snow.

There’s something like tension in the air, it’s weird how they can get to that sometimes. It just never happened in a one-on-one environment. Silence grew thick and his breath could reach her cheek now. It is not like they haven’t been near before. 

They stood together in a full elevator once, her body stuck in between his figure and the wall as she kept conversation with their friends also inside the cabin. Tough time for Mister Russell, he fought for his life that day.

She feels that way when he lifts her up to get across the paddock, through the high-posted gates and the half-walls, or when he jokingly approaches her from behind during parties.

It is actually surprising they didn’t cross any line yet.

“I notice when you see me from the distance and you smile. It happens more in the garage… Sometimes I even forget it’s my job to hate you.” it slid from her lips before she could stop it; but, somehow. It felt right to say. The silence was suffocating.

“You smile back every time. You wave too… Like a Little Princess.”

They might not actually hate each other; in fact, it might be the other way around. Even Lianna could see it, now that she took the courage to lean to the side and stare back. Eye-in-eye action. A bold, strong one.

George’s gaze lingered, sharp but soft in a way that made her chest tighten. His confidence wasn’t overbearing, but there was no mistaking the certainty in his eyes. That kind of focus could stop anyone in their tracks, and right now, it was aimed solely at her.

“Little Princess, huh?” she said, her voice quieter now, the teasing edge fading into something she wasn’t entirely prepared for.

His lips twitched, almost smirking. “You wear the title well.”

Her mouth opened to snap back, but nothing came out. She felt trapped — in a good way. Her heart was speeding up, and there was no denying the pull in the air, like something unspoken was gaining weight with every second.

His hand rested on the couch between them, fingers grazing the cushion as though he was holding himself back. Hers wasn’t far off, her fingers clutching the edge of the fabric. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or if the space between them was shrinking by the second.

“You’re staring,” she pointed out, her voice trembling slightly, betraying her.

“You’re letting me,” George shot back, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to make her stomach flip.

She rolled her eyes instinctively, but her attempt at nonchalance was betrayed when her gaze dropped — just for a second — to his lips. He caught it, of course. How could he not?

His hand shifted, the movement slow, deliberate. His fingers grazed curls, moving them to the side before tracing the now free area of her face, featherlight, sending a shockwave straight up her spine. Her first instinct was to pull away, but she didn’t.

Her breath hitched. She wanted to say something — anything — but the words caught in her throat, tangled up in the pounding of her heartbeat. Her throat went dry as soon as he had more skin touching her, hand finding room in the side of her neck, the big palm rubbing against the sensitive part, gently and firmly holding her in place, as controversial it could feel.

The texture of his skin was warm, rougher than she expected, like he’d been gripping the steering wheel too tightly for too long. She’d never thought much about George’s hands before, but now? Now they were all she could think about.

Her own palm pressed lightly around his fist, and the simple connection felt intimate in a way she wasn’t ready to admit. It’s the implying; how his thumb ghosted around her cheek, secretly making way to her bottom lip, hypnotizing, striking. His fingers could get a hold of her hair now and that’s when he knew she was fully melted, just like her head did onto his hand, her eyes almost shutting closed. From the slighted touch. It would form an amazing joke if he could ever think of one at the moment. 

“Still don’t think you’ll miss me?” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the tension crackling between them.

“Not even a little bit,” she lied, though her voice betrayed her again, soft and unsteady.

He leaned closer, the shift so gradual it was like he was giving her time to stop him. His breath was warm against her cheek, and she could feel the faint scent of his cologne — something subtle but crisp, like cedarwood and rain.

They’re closer now, her body betraying her with its natural instinct to lean toward him.

“You’re terrible at lying,” he said, his lips so close to hers now that she could almost feel the words as much as she heard them. “I really thought you were tough. But here you are, practically melting under my touch.”

Her heart felt like it might explode. The weight of his gaze, the heat of his hand against her skin, the sheer proximity — it was all too much and yet not enough. With his hand still holding her in place, his thumb brushed against her lip, as let out a soft laugh, his breath warm against her ear now. “So, this is what happens when I get you alone? Can’t say I’m complaining... but don’t think I won’t use this against you later.”

Her voice came out barely above a whisper, trembling as she said, “Shut up, George.”

And then, as if her words were the permission he’d been waiting for, his lips brushed hers. It wasn’t a kiss, not yet. It was tentative, a question more than an answer. Her brother’s future-ex-teammate leading the hell they’ll turn into paradise, still keeping her where she is as he didn’t let the kiss really happen — driving her crazy. 

A single moment stretched into infinity as her mind raced and her body froze, caught between the overwhelming urge to pull him closer and the voice in her head screaming that this was a bad idea.

Her fingers curled tighter around his wrist, pulling him closer and making him smile teasingly, believing it was enough with the temptation. His lips pressed against hers, soft and warm and everything she hadn’t let herself imagine before.

The world fell away.

She didn’t move at first, too overwhelmed by the weight of it all. But then her body took over, her lips moving against his in a way that felt natural, instinctive. Her hand slid from the couch to his arm, her fingers brushing the smooth fabric of his shirt, and she could feel the muscles beneath tense at her touch.

His lips lingered on hers, teasing, before he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, both of them breathless. The world around them seemed to fade; there was nothing but the quiet of the room and the rapid beats of their hearts, out of sync but somehow perfectly aligned.

George’s hand slid from her neck to her jaw, his thumb brushing her lower lip, drawing her attention to it before capturing her mouth once more. This time, it wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t questioning. It was urgent, like they both knew the clock was ticking, and there was no going back.

Her hands were already tugging at his shirt, pulling him closer, her body instinctively arching into his as if it belonged there. She didn’t care about the consequences anymore. All she cared about was the heat of his skin, the way his lips moved against hers, the way his body fit against hers perfectly.

The kiss deepened, and her fingers slid to the back of his neck, gripping his hair, tugging him down as she tilted her head to get closer, to deepen the kiss. It was reckless. It was desperate. But it was also... exhilarating. Her body pressed harder against his, and she could feel the tension coil tighter inside her, like a spring wound too tight, ready to snap.

Just as she felt him pull her flush against him, his knee sliding between her legs, the door clicked.

They both froze.

The sound of the lock turning seemed to reverberate in her chest. In an instant, George shoved himself away from her, his chest heaving as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

She scrambled to adjust herself, heart pounding, cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and desire.

“Hey, you guys, everyone alive?” Lewis’s voice rang through the room as the door swung open, revealing him with a knowing smirk. “Oh- Did I… Did I interrupt something?”

Lianna’s breath was still shallow, her hand clutching the side of the couch like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

George was trying his best to look unaffected, but his disheveled appearance wasn’t helping.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “You two are weird. Seriously, what is going on with you two? Are we gonna have to start an intervention?”

Lianna shot him a glare. “What do you want, Lewis?” she snapped, though her voice was a little too shaky to sound convincing.

Lewis, oblivious to the tension that had just enveloped the room, shrugged. “Oh, I just came to grab my... uh, charger. Is everything ok down here? You both seem… Weird?” He glanced between them, the smirk still dancing on his lips. “It’s almost like you’re in a friendly competition or something.”

George shot a glance at Lianna, and in a flash, they both tried to cover the awkwardness with false bravado.

“Oh, please,” Lianna scoffed, crossing her arms, trying to play it cool. “Competition with George isn’t competition. I win every time.”

George quickly jumped in, grinning like he didn’t just almost kiss her senseless. “Never won against me on paddle, karting, chess, soccer… You even lose bets. Don’t lie to-”

“Alright, alright. Got it. You still hate each other. Got it.” Lewis rolled his eyes, clearly not buying it, but he played along.

They both nodded in exaggerated agreement, too quickly to be convincing, but it seemed to ease the weirdness, if only for a second.

“Anyway, I’m off,” Lewis said, his voice light and carefree, though he was clearly still enjoying the strange vibe between them. “We’ve all got that race in an hour, and I don’t plan on being caught in a compromising position again.” He winked at them both. “You two might want to stay away from each other until then, yeah?”

He lingered for a moment longer, clearly sensing something was off but not quite knowing what, before turning to leave.

There was a long silence between them after he left.

Lianna let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “God, that was close.”

George just exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I swear, if he noticed anything, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He leaned against the back of the couch, his expression half annoyed, half amused.

“Well, you wouldn’t have to hear anything if you weren’t so obvious,” she shot back, though there was still a slight edge to her voice. The playful bickering was slowly returning, but there was still a rawness in the air.

“You started it,” he said with a smirk, a challenge in his eyes as he crossed his arms. “You’re the one who can’t keep her hands to herself.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping away from him. “You kissed me, George.”

He grinned. “And you kissed me back.”

“Right, yeah. ” she shot back. “You kissed me, I kissed you back, Lewis got in and stopped us. End of the story”

“Fine, It didn’t seem like you wanted to end it before Lew- Ouch, Lianna!” he started normally, but a pillow hit his face half way through it. 

“Yeah, now stand up and let’s go change. You have to snowboard and I have to sit down and look pretty in my Fendi coat. Let´s go.”

That night, long after the others returned and went to bed, Lianna found herself pacing in her room. Her mind was a storm of thoughts, emotions swirling that she couldn’t quite name. Her heart was racing, every step against the cold wood floor seeming to echo through her. That kiss, that moment — she couldn’t shake it.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed a hoodie, padded barefoot across the hall, and knocked lightly on George’s door.

"Lianna?" His voice was groggy, thick with sleep.

When he opened the door and saw her standing there, his expression softened, eyes still heavy with sleep but already wide awake in that instant. His lips parted, a mixture of surprise and something else she couldn’t quite read.

Without waiting for him to say more, she pushed past him, climbing into his bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Don’t make it weird,” she said, her tone dismissive but her body betraying her nerves, every movement stiff as if she wasn’t sure what to do with herself.

“My room’s freezing,” she added, but even to her own ears, it sounded like a half-hearted excuse.

George chuckled, the sound low and warm in the dim room, sliding in beside her without hesitation. "Of course. Wouldn’t dream of it," he muttered, though his voice carried a teasing edge.

The bed creaked under them as they shifted, both finding an awkward comfort in the space between them. It was quiet — too quiet — but the it wasn’t uncomfortable. They lay there in the dark, the moments stretching out between them, until Lianna broke the silence.

“So…” she started, her voice uncertain. “Do you remember that time when we were at that dinner, and you were being all smug because you knew exactly what to order?”

George groaned, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t know you hated the fact that I actually have taste.”

She snorted. “Taste? You were showing off like you were some gourmet chef or something. I swear, I almost choked on my water just to get out of hearing about your ‘expert’ opinions on wine.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm. “I was just trying to share some culture with you. Not my fault you don’t appreciate the finer things in life.”

Lianna raised an eyebrow, turning her head slightly to look at him. “You mean you just like hearing yourself talk.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “But at least you listened. That’s more than I can say for some people.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, her voice a little teasing now, though there was something in it that made it feel a little too intimate. “I listened. I just didn’t appreciate it. Just like the way you act like I’m some sort of charity case when you give me rides.”

George turned his head slightly, lips barely touching the top of her hair as he spoke, quieter now. “You know, you always act like you don’t like it. But I think you do. You like the attention.”

Lianna’s breath caught, her mind racing. She had always been so quick to brush off anything too personal between them, especially when it came to him. But now, with his voice so close, the words lingered.

She shifted, unsure of how to respond, but then, without thinking, she said, “Yeah, sure, I like the attention. I’m not ashamed of it.”

George smiled, a genuine warmth in his voice when he spoke again. “I noticed. You do like the spotlight.”

Lianna shifted again, her face now resting just below his collarbone. “I never said I liked it. I just like being noticed when I want to be.” Her fingers brushed the fabric of his shirt, and she cursed herself for making it sound so... intimate.

He paused for a second, the tension between them palpable. "I get that," he murmured softly. "You deserve to be noticed."

Lianna didn’t respond right away. Instead, she let the silence settle between them. She couldn’t ignore it anymore — the way he said it, like it was just a matter of fact. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt suddenly exposed, vulnerable in a way that she hadn’t expected.

They both lay there in the dark, the tension creeping up between them, thick but not unbearable. He spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “I know we always bicker. It’s kind of our thing, isn’t it? But don’t pretend it’s just for fun, Lianna. You know I can’t resist when you get all worked up.”

She turned slightly, her face closer to his now. “Maybe I just like getting under your skin,” she said, her words coming out smoother than she intended.

“Oh, I know you do,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “But don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy when I noticed you, when I called you out on something. You liked the attention just as much as I did."

Lianna’s heart fluttered, the heat between them escalating with every word. “Yeah, maybe I did,” she said, her voice almost a whisper now. She was almost embarrassed by how much it was affecting her, but she didn’t pull away.

George’s fingers brushed against the side of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. “I noticed you, alright,” he murmured. “Every little thing. Every smile, every look, every time you’d act like you didn’t care, when I knew you did.”

She let out a shaky breath, her chest tightening in response to his words. “I didn’t know you paid that much attention.”

“I always do,” he whispered, his lips so close to her ear now, the words brushing against her skin. “You’re hard to miss, Lianna.”

There it was again. The weight of his words, sinking in as he said it like it was just another casual thing. But it didn’t feel casual. It felt charged, heavy with unspoken meaning.

Lianna opened her mouth, about to reply, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she just let the moment linger, the silence swallowing them both up for a beat before he broke it with a soft exhale.

"You make it hard to keep my distance," George whispered, his lips brushing against the top of her hair.

Her heart skipped. His voice, the way he said it, made her shiver slightly. She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she simply stayed quiet, absorbing his words, trying to figure out what to say next.

But the air around them was electric now. Her body was pressed to his, the warmth of his skin making her chest tighten and her breath catch. Her hand found its way to his chest, lightly resting against him, and it almost felt like a reflex.

Then, without thinking, she leaned in. Her lips met his again, soft at first, hesitant, as if they were both afraid of crossing some invisible line. But the second her lips touched his, everything else seemed to fade away. It deepened naturally, a quiet urgency behind it, as if they both had waited long enough to let this moment stretch between them, just like they knew there’s no going back; ever since earlier on the couch. They started something that’s impossible to just stop now.

Her fingers found the fabric of his shirt, gripping it just a little tighter, and the kiss deepened, slow and sure, like they had all the time in the world. His hands moved, tentative at first, tracing the line of her jaw before cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing the skin with a tenderness that made her heart beat harder.

There was something intoxicating about the way he kissed her—like he was trying to memorize the taste, the warmth of her, but also something urgent, a silent need that they both couldn’t name.

The kiss broke, but neither of them pulled away completely. Their foreheads rested together for a moment, breaths mingling, both of them unwilling to speak. The weight of what had just happened hung there, both of them knowing that it meant something, but neither of them wanting to say it out loud.

She could feel the hum in her chest, that buzzing tension that still lingered, but there was a certain calm, too. The kiss had been slow, deliberate, nothing rushed, nothing forced. And yet, it had been more than either of them expected.

“George,” she whispered again, this time quieter, almost as if she was trying to convince herself.

He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing patterns on her arm as he pulled her closer, wrapping his arm tighter around her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, the world seemed to slow. Their lips found each other again in the dark, softer this time, less urgent but no less electric.

Before either of them realized, sleep began to creep in. The kiss faded, their breathing evening out as their bodies relaxed into the warmth of the bed. It was as if everything that had been said, everything that had been left unsaid, was allowed to rest, allowed to settle between them.

They didn’t speak anymore, didn’t need to. The quiet stretched on, thick with the unspoken understanding that something had shifted. And as the hours passed, with their bodies tangled together, both of them finally fell asleep, the tension lingering in the silence but no longer pulling them apart.

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[farfromstrange]

Happy Birthday!! I’m sorry your birthday leaves you with mixed feelings, but I hope this celebration helps direct them towards the happy side of things💖 Can I please request a bouquet of tulips regarding Matt and the stray animals of Hells Kitchen? Cats, dogs, even possums and raccoons? Heck, how does the devil of Hell’s Kitchen feel about pigeons?

Aww, thank you so much, lovely 🥹🤍 And thank you for your request(s)!!

These headcanons were actually so much fun to think about.

Here’s your bouquet of tulips!

Matt Murdock and The Strays of Hell’s Kitchen (Headcanons)

Event Masterlist | Matt Murdock Masterlist

I feel like Matt is the kind of person who doesn’t usually pay much attention to the animals around him because most of the time, they’re much quieter than the people of New York City, so when he encounters one he won’t let them throw him off his game. However, our Devil of Hell’s Kitchen definitely has his favorites and least favorites.

The stray cat that keeps appearing on his fire escape? He doesn’t want to admit it, but he kind of enjoys the company. He’s fascinated by how easily this tiny ball of fur started trusting him once he started feeding it some tuna. Cats usually don’t find him off-putting when he’s in the suit, and he likes that. He likes petting them, too because cats purr at a frequency that perhaps is soothing to his senses. And if he finds one that’s hurt? You best believe he will take it home, clean it (although that’s a fight he often loses), and patch it up. And he’d drop those who are really bad off at a shelter to make sure they get taken care of.

Matt Murdock and cats (especially orange ones) have a lot in common, so I think they’re the kind of animals he enjoys being around, even though they annoy the shit out of him. He’s just incredibly touched-starved, and having a stray cat dote on him just makes him feel a different kind of way. He certainly wouldn’t mind if the same stray cat came back to him on the regular. He’d adopt that fur-ball without even realizing, and suddenly he’s a cat owner who gets cuddles every night. Using his tie to play with it before he can buy toys? You bet! Finding a vet to nurse the poor thing back to health? Matt Murdock to the rescue. Would it be easy with his sensory issues? No. But he turns into a cat person nonetheless. It’s better than being alone, anyway.

I also think he doesn’t mind dogs. They’re active, they’re fun to play with, and they’re very empathetic. Sometimes a little too empathetic for his taste. He may have shut down Foggy’s and Karen’s idea for him to get a guide dog, but that’s because he is insistent on shouldering everything on his own and accepting help—even if it’s from a dog trained to support someone with his disability—doesn’t sit right with him. It’s an issue. Anyway, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like dogs! You best believe he’ll make sure the stray dogs of Hell’s Kitchen end up at an animal shelter. If you remember Season 2 where Matt searches for Frank and finds the dog instead, he is good with them. They listen to him. They respect him, and he respects dogs. I can see him bringing home a stray eventually, just because he knows what it’s like to be alone and Matt hates the fact that others have to suffer the same fate. He’d have to make sure the dog gets along with the cat though.

Possums? It’s a complicated relationship. I headcanon one bit him once while he was, once again, lying half-dead in a dumpster and the poor thing got spooked by this grown ass man trying to climb back out, so it bit him. He had to explain to Claire that no, he was not bitten by his opponent, it was actually a possum, and she laughed at him. He’s not their biggest fan, but he also doesn’t despise them. I feel like Matt would be open to reconciliation though. Like, they’re just trynna survive on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. He can’t really blame them for that.

Same goes for raccoons. His sense of smell is so sensitive he can smell every last item of garbage they’ve had their noses in, but they’ve never hurt him. He doesn’t necessarily pay attention to them when they cross his path, but he definitely wouldn’t want to stay close to a raccoon for an extended period of time.

I don’t know why, but I feel like Matt’s the kind of guy who feeds the pigeons outside the courthouse. He’d take the breakfast Foggy got him and share it with them, even though it’s technically not allowed. And Foggy would definitely need to call out, “Matt, stop feeding the pigeons!” Before security has to intervene. That may change though if one ever decides to poop on him. New suit? Ruined. He’d never feed them again.

Bonus: I like to think he despises spiders, mostly because he can hear them crawling over walls and stuff, and that’s just a sensory nightmare. If you’ve ever had one crawl on you, you know that feels fucking terrifying, and I imagine Matt would feel the same way. Unless they’re a daddy long legs chilling in the corner, eating all the flies (which he also despises), he will exterminate them. God can forgive him for that one.

[aeternus-art]

"You are Not Your Body, Not Your Mind, Or Your Brain-

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Not your thoughts or feelings, you are not your DNA

You am the observer, You're a witness of life" -the song uses "I", but for the sake of the point i changed it to "you".

This post gets a little out in orbit, but i hope it's a fun ride nevertheless. We'll be addressing how nothing can stop you from shifting, how "shifting methods" can be looked at from a new perspective, addressing thoughts and limiting beliefs, and how you really *really* don't need to believe you'll shift in order to do so- as well as why that's the case.

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⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

｡𖦹°⭒. ˚ ｡. ˚ ☁︎

ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪𓍊𓋼𓆏𓋼𓍊 𓈒 ⋆

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When you come to understand that you need not identify with all the noise and goings on of your cr, it can become exceptionally easy to turn away from any limiting thoughts, and lightly embrace your dr self.

- ☁️You are neither your Cr self or your Dr self, and you are also both, depending on what you're looking at.

Your consciousness awareness is a flashlight, your 4d are the shadow puppets, and your 3d are the shadows. You make the shadow puppets, and you use your flashlight (that always stays on you) so create any image you could imagine. If you want a different shadow, make a different puppet and use it in front of that flashlight.

- ☁️You are the creator of your reality. The 3d you see around you is a reflection of that creation. Now, the directness of the reflection isn't always so direct, it goes off the state of being you *are*, not the one you want to be. Are you chillin at the idea of being able to wake up anywhere, or is this cr body trying to tell you that you can't or won't? Want to know how to prove it wrong?

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If anti-shifters can shift, just by feeling like "i don't *think* it's real, but if it were it'd be easy", then there is nothing stopping you. If shifters can shift without even so much as setting an intention, there is nothing stopping you.

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I'm going to talk light science for a sec, but it's just for the sake of visual representation. During the big bang (as i recall) everything that was once together and whole, essentially exploded and pieces scatted everywhere.

Now, if this is the case, I kind of like to think about it as one ginormous jawbreaker separating into millions and billions of little jawbreakers. Now here's the thing, allllll those jawbreakers, every last one, has a little piece of the core inside them. That, in this example, is like your conciousness- that connection to all your drs and manifestations exists.

Your subconscious mind's job is partially to keep you safe in the background- but remember- you are not your brain, so you are not, at your core, this subconscious. You are not the little doubts and frustrations that pop up. You don't need to listen to any doubts, or "am i doing this right" or "what if-" or "can i-"

- ☁️You have your own little piece of source inside you, that is connected to allllllll the other little pieces everywhere, because at one point, everything was one. (purely for the sake of examples of how "you are already your dr self" ) You are already directly connected to your dr self, you're just looking at the 3d aspects instead of the 4d. You can't change a reflection, without changing what is being reflected. Shift your awareness to change the reflection. (this goes for manifestion too)

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For those familiar with harry potter, let's try another example. If you make a new friend, and you wanted to floo to their home, you would have to set up the connection in the floo network (if you weren't already connected). Once you set up this connection, it says unless one or both people close it.

- ☁️Connecting to your dr self is very similar. You contact the floo network (your conscious awareness) and you turn your attention to the desired place you would like to "unlock", like a fireplace, there was never a closed door, it just might not have been an activated path. You can stand in that fireplace all day, saying the name over and over and over, but unless you connect to the floo network, you're not going anywhere (not through that method at least)

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☁️This "awareness" that I speak of is simply just your attention. You are the observer, and even after doing this for so many years, even I still occasionally forget that. The beauty is, you don't stop being "the observer" just because you stop being consciously aware. This is why it's important, imo, to sometimes just turn your attention away from unwanted states. You woke up here again? Okay, doesn't matter. Stop trying to change the shadows. Remember, you get what you are being, and shifts are instant.

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Now, side note, you don't need to walk around like you're in your dr all day. If you can't do that- that's fine! Just become neutral to it- it's just one reality in infinite others you get to explore. This isn't permanent. You are not stuck. If i say that and your mind tries to disagree, just let it do its thing. You know who you are at your core, what difference does one mind out of infinite ones make?

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☁️Methods Are Not Hard and Fast Rules. Methods are Malleable☁️

I've used methods, and i've not used methods. My first shift was literally just me (unintentionally) crashing out due to not being able to shift, and eventually, after all the tears had fallen, the pent up emotions had been felt, my dr was rightfully shoved right off the pedastool, and because I had been embodying my dr self in weeks past, I had already built the shadow puppet. Once I finally stopped trying to *get* somewhere, I woke up in my Dr. I didn't need to add anything, I actually just needed to Let Go of my limiting beliefs- and not go back to them like an ex down bad lol. I broke up with "can't shift" or "won't shift" (or maybe it broke up with me lol)

*All of this to say, you don't need a method. I was already connected and in my dr in the 4d, but this was before I learned about all of that- it wasn't intentional. If I knew that all i needed to do was connect the floos, and just chill with knowing I can walk in and out of the 3d (as consciousness) I probably would've shifted sooner. But that's just me-*

- ☁️It's like walking on a trail with this stunning view at the end, and they have one of those poles in the middle to keep vehicles off. You, as just a person (just conscious awareness) can easily walk around it. Now, if you were in a car, you have to get out first. That doesn't mean that it's the wrong path, or you're not allowed to walk it. It just means that you might have to park the car. The car is just a vehicle- it won't be gone when you come back down from the hill. Your cr self doesn't stop existing, you just stop being *directly* aware of it in your dr.

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Now, who are methods good for? Methods are excellent for anyone who just feels like they need a little more of a solid grasp on their dr and dr selves, people who get distracted easily, and really anyone who wants one. The important thing is just that you don't *need* one- I still use methods, not even really to help me shift, but because i think they're fun!

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A note on states:

Rather than asking shifters "what made you shift", i implore you to try, "what does it feel like to be a shifter". For me, it's like knowing you have a fully stocked kitchen. I know that I could go and make amazing food anytime i want, but right now i'm not hungry. I satiated my thirst for my drs in my 4d imagination before ever actually interacting with them in the 3d. I shift, not only because it's fun and i enjoy it- but because that's just the result of this process- it's the law. Reality reflects out.

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☁️*The Rational Mind*☁️

For those who are stuck on the "rational" side, I want to say that time, physical reality, and the workings of consciousness, aren't always very rational things- but there are plenty of irrational sounding things in the world- especially new things. You don't need to know how shifting works to shift. It doesn't have to feel "rational" to shift. You can fly on a plane with no idea how it works (a hundred ton tube of metal miles in the air??). I think what i'm trying to say, is that if it doesn't seem rational, you may just have to adjust your framework and your perspective.

- The perspective of a pilot might seem more rational when looking at all those buttons, as opposed to someone who's never seen a plane, ya know? Rational is subjective. I think it's rational that I currently have 5 drs that i live my life in. To me, it's perfectly rational that I can manifest anything i want. To me, it's perfectly rational that the 3d is an outwards expression of our internal states- it's just the drama being performed from the script I wrote. That's normal to me- but it wasn't always. The state was always there for me to inhabit and put on, but i actually had to inhabit it and put it on, ya know? It's simple, not necessarily easy for all

The more time you allow yourself to observe your desired outcome, off of the pedastool, seeing it as just an additional reality, 1. the closer you get to feel your dr to you because you're not paying attention to conflicting evidence, and 2. the sooner you shift

- ☁️Remember, reality comes from you, it doesn't happen to you.

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☁️*Thoughts*☁️

It does not matter if you have one realities thoughts in another reality. It doesn't matter if you're thinking about your cr (events, sounds, emotions) in your dr, because you are still shifting you at your core. You're still going to have this realities memories (unless you scripted them out), so why wouldn't you be allowed to think about it? And even if you did script them out, reacting to blaring red alarm bells whenever it happens probably isn't helping.

- ☁️You're expanding your awareness, not necessarily moving it like "only allowed to be cr" and "only connected to dr right now".

- That's why a lot of shifters say it doesn't feel like anything- because it doesn't. My ratio of dr to cr thoughts when i shift can be as close as 99% cr and 1% dr- not that it even matters because again, you are not your mind, or your thoughts, or this body- you are the awareness of them.

- Don't get too caught up in your Crs 3d, it's more malleable than you think, but you can only mold it as much as you let yourself. There can be an overlap in thoughts/feelings while you're shifting, that's perfectly normal. I have overlaps while i'm literally in my dr- it's okay I promise. You can still shift if you're not solely thinking about your dr all the time.

☁️ "you cant shift" is meaningless to a shifter, so make it normal to feel meaningless to you. YOU know you can shift, so what does it matter? Let it go- treat it like someone just trying to pick a fight with you- it's not worth your time. walk away, and let it go. pick up your dr self in imagination instead :)

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☁️Some last little notes: ☁️

If you're at the end of your method or attempt, and you know know what to do next, but you can't fall asleep, I would focus on one thing- surrender. Trust that you have made the puppet, you shined your light on it- and now the shadow has no choice but to appear.

Remember, "The time it takes your assumption to become fact, your desire to be fulfilled, is directly proportionate to the naturalness of your feeling of already being what you want to be - of already having what you desire."

You are fully capable of giving it to yourself now. You already have unlimited access to the bottomless well of creative power inside you. Just look beyond the physical, that's where the magic happens.

You don't need to know when you'll shift- and i'll make another post about this in depth cause I have some analogies rattling around in this brain.

Detatch from the outcome. By putting your attention or your dr self, you are eliminating the (illusionary but still "real") physical gap between you and your dr self.

For those of you with vastly different dr selves (compared to cr), I invite you to focus on more mundane tasks. How does it feel to walk in that body? How does it feel to breathe? How does it feel to sit down? To stand up?

☁️***If the goal is to normalize the feeling of having your desire (like a kid the day after christmas) so that your 3d projects that you have your desire, then all you have to do, outside of all the rigmarole, is just- have it. Walk around entertaining the idea you can literally go anywhere, anytime. It doesn't matter if you can't see it right way- your job isn't to *see* your dr self, your job is to normalize being your dr self- the version of you that's successfully shifted. ***☁️

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I'll try not to go down this last rabbit hole too deep- but time is not linear. If you assume the state of the wish fufilled- you have it Now. All there is, is the now, and the illusion of past and future. Like, Harry Potter saying "well I knew I could do it this time... Because I had already done it." - You are pure consciousness at your core, all of the time, ever-connected to everything else.

You don't need to know how or when your desire will come. If you are normalizing your dr and getting familiar with fulfilling your wishes (not to *get* something, but just to experience) you are already doing everything right. You don't need to "wait" for some desire like a package at the door, you just need to realize it's already in your hands. It always has been, and it always will be :)

When you have a desire, treat it like a pothole- Fill in the *lack* with your wonderful human imagination :) If you carry this habit throughout all of your realities, it helps with more than just shifting.

Hope yall have a good day, and best of luck to you!! 33

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edit: I don't know if i addressed this directly enough: Once you feel as though your dr and dr self is as normal as *you* are (in the 4d, again you at your core, not thoughts- thoughts just reflect the state too) then you're good!! no, seriously, that's it. you've fulfilled the wish- and as long as you just keep it like that, it will have no choice but to express itself in the 3d. it. will. have. no. choice. you did it, you're good. let yourself just be good.

you don't try to get something you already have- when you don't feel as though you need to "get" it or "chase" it, you have it. does that make sense? if having something in the 3d, means you have it in the 4d, then by following that logic and adding in ☁️"as above, so below, as within, so without" ☁️ as the framework, we can easily reverse the equation. 4d first- 3d follows. You won't be fulfilled because you have that thing- you have that thing because you've fulfilled the state of having it and/or you let go of the state of lack. Drop the lack from the desire, and what do you have? the desire! badda bing badda boom ( *it's a worldwide when i step in the room* )