#what could/would they even do to make that stupid X rainbow

[jofiah]

Actually, considering the shitshow that is twitter right now, I wonder if musk will even let whoever is left of the team make a pride logo for June

[tuesdayiminlove]

happy disaster

rockstar!eddie x fem!waitress!reader (imperfect for you universe)

summary: how you two meet

author's note: an ask about how they met came earlier today and i couldn't help myself lol. not proofread sorry! also this could be read as a standalone! but u can read the og part here! hope u guys enjoy lmk what yall think xoxo

word count: 3.1k

You’ve had your fair share of jobs throughout the last few years, trying to make ends meet while also being a consumer of the various cute things you see when you’re at the mall with your friends. One time (and this may have been one of the more miserable experiences), you worked as a receptionist for an auto shop (get it now?)).

Needless to say, you were at the bottom of the hierarchy at that whole joint. When you weren’t answering calls and taking hyperspecific notes to not confuse the actual mechanics, you were practically shunned from the moment you stepped up from your seat and onto the street to eat your lunch at the bench outside. And whenever your lips did part to make even the simplest of comments, the men either laughed at you or made you feel stupid (“You guys hired me! Clearly I’m not a fucking idiot!” you dreamt of saying, but you were just never one for the dramatics and confrontation of it all).

And, the worst part, on days you couldn’t go into work, none of the other receptionists would switch with you.

(“Sorry, babe, I just can’t,” you remember Joey Warner staying after taking a drag of his cig, coughing mere seconds later from not exhaling immediately. You wanted to take the cigarette between your fingers, toss it down, and squish it with your shoes. You really needed to pick up your brother from school, and no one at the shop is ever up Joey’s ass since he’s a guy.

“Oh. It’s alright.” You curse yourself and your lack of ever wanting conflict, because you’re more than positive that this boy deserves a beating for not taking the reins for an hour just so that your poor baby brother won’t have to wait on the cold sidewalk for your mom, who is forty minutes late.

You walk back into the shop without another word.)

So. yeah, call this mechanic memory useless, but now it's clear that your jobs have been absolute dog shit in the past.

But being a waitress at Carly’s Diner, in comparison, takes the cake in the coworker camaraderie contest.

Like, now, you’re enjoying your break with Carrie, splitting half a cupcake that Jim managed to slip into your guys’ hands when he was pulling the fresh desserts from the oven. You two have turns at it, taking nimble bites from the vanilla confection and wiping rainbow sprinkles off your uniform in the process. Your nose blends in the smell of the cupcake and Carrie’s sweet perfume, leaving a little bubble where you can hardly tell what the boys in the kitchen are whipping up right now.

Judy passes through the doors in a haste, heaving before setting her eyes on you two. The notepad in her hands is crumpled up and her hair looks all over the place, eyes bewildered as she stalks towards you and Carrie, a complan ready to spill from her red lips. 

“This fucking couple on table three is driving me nuts! Nuts!” She slumps her back against the wall and swipes a piece of frosting off the cupcake before sticking it in her mouth, sighing in relief.

“Hey,” Carrie swats Judy’s hand, “watch the cupcake!” She places it behind her back possessively.

Carrie is nearly six months pregnant and craving every sweet treat Jim has to offer in between tables and shifts. It’s a miracle that she let you split the dessert with her just now, “And table three, you said?”

Judy ignores her earlier words and nods. “I swear to God, I don’t understand your goddamn generation and why you heaps are so fucking rude. I can't do this.”

“Don’t group us with those weirdos,” says Carrie. “And I’d like to see them be rude to a pregnant woman. Protect this,” she hands you the cupcake carefully, looking at you in the eyes with intent, “and I mean it.”

Her voice is so determined, you decide that you don’t want your fair share of bites anymore. You nod dutifully.

“I got this, Jude.” She swipes the notepad from the older woman’s hands.

And with that, Carrie is kicking herself off the wall and out of the kitchen, into the main part of the diner. You silently pray for the couple that now has to deal with a moody and pregnant Carrie. 

See? Now, this is what you mean! No mechanic or receptionist at Billy’s Auto Parts will ever be willing to face an alleged-annoying couple for their coworker. Sometimes, waitressing can take the light and happiness out of you once you’re clocked out, but at least you’re surrounded by the half-decent people in your town.

“You’re a lifesaver!” Judy calls out with a wicked laugh. “Gotta love that girl… hey can I have a bite?”

You frown, knowing you’re already unable to say no when Judy is stressed and you know for sure that the confection in your hand is enough to sweeten even the most stressed—Jim just has that magic to him. “Yeah, but don’t make the dent obvious.”

You think you’re gonna spend the rest of your break with Judy, hiding in between the two walls in the corner of the kitchen until Carrie comes back. You lick a small sprinkle off the cupcake, ready to ask the woman if her daughter won the spelling bee that she’s been freaking out over all week, when the office door swings open and Lenny’s head peeks out, eyes going to the first two waitresses that he can spot.

“Hey!” he shouts yours and Judy’s last names to steal the attention. “Can one of you guys go out and get Evan? Her daughter’s principal is on the phone.” He wipes his sweat-stained brow and doesn’t wait for a response. “Thanks,”

You and Judy look back at each other. And immediately you know that you’re not going to make Judy be the one.

“I got it,” you say with a soft smile. “... You’re gonna eat the rest of this are you?”

She laughs and swipes the cupcake. “For you, my love, I wouldn’t dream of it. Thank you.”

You blow her a kiss, already making your way to the double doors of the kitchen, straightening out your ponytail and getting your waitressing voice ready (patient and respectful, garnering the best tips you can try to get). Your eyes give one swipe across the diner, catching Carrie’s eye as she talks to the couple sitting down beneath her, holding her precious bump to make a show of it. She gives you a sly wink and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

Afternoon rush makes it hard to spot Evan at first. His smaller stature makes it even harder to spot him in the crowd, but your eyes eventually zone in on him smiling at customer that is blocked by a family getting up to leave. You smile upon finding him and make your way to the table.

As you get closer, you finally notice who Evan is speaking two, and your brows pinch quizzically. The man is hunched, looking over the menu with sunglasses adorning his face despite his table not even facing the sun. His jet black curls curve around the lines of his face, making his features harder to notice. It almost reminds you of the movies you watch late at night when you’re munching on diner leftovers on your couch, the runaway criminal stopping for a bite to eat while trying to flee the state. 

“Evan,” you say softly, not wanting to draw attention to yourself but you know it's already bound to happen since you’re switching places with him. “Lenny’s got your daughter’s school on the phone. They’re asking for you.”

The man’s eyes widen. “Great,” he mutters, “What do you think it is this time?” “I hope she said ‘fuck you’ to that little pipsqueak again,” you joke, seeing the anxiety in Evan’s eyes at not knowing why he’s receiving a call during work. You remember the first time he got called to his daughter’s school from work due to her cursing out an older boy: the entire kitchen was laughing—Evan included—as they all wished him good luck with that meeting. “Can’t be worse than that.”

He sighed, turning back to the customer, “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I’m going to hand you off to her for a bit.” He says your name to further introduce you two. "Thank you for your patience.”

And for the first time up close, you look at the sunglassed man and smile. Perfect teeth flash at you, mildly astonishing you at how cute he looked when he did so. It’s not abnormal for you to find a customer attractive (it’s human, we’re human), but you don’t think a smile has ever made you secretly stop you from breathing for a second. 

Flustered, you’re clumsy as you and Evan switch spots. He pats your shoulder one last time, muttering a thank you as he rushes to the back. You follow his movements and frown for a split second and forget your task at hand. You hope his daughter is okay. You hope the kitchen will be laughing in t-minus three minutes over the fact that little baby-Evan gained a new curse word under her belt.

“Sorry,” you say, looking back at the man. You find him looking directly at you, knowing only because of how his head is positioned. His sunglasses are too tinted to even see a little beneath. “Can I start you off with anything to drink?”

“Oh—uh, yeah,” he stammers, before clearing his throat and offering a crooked smile. “Coffee, please. Milk and two sugars.”

Your handwriting matches the pace as he speaks. You hold a smile on your face to keep up pleasantries. “And have you decided what you would like to eat?”

“Not yet,” he admits, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the menu. “Kind of hard to focus.” There’s a pause before he adds, a little quieter, “The menu’s got a lot of… options.”

You raise an eyebrow, tucking your notepad in the small pocket of your apron. You turn your head to see if anyone else is making coffee right now. You see Carrie there, and silently celebrate when she’s already staring at you. “All good. I’ll get your coffee ready and be right back–”

“—Wait.”

Your brows pinch, confused. “Yes?” His hand rubs the back of his neck, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “I was just, um… wondering if you had a favorite on the menu? Like… if there’s something you always recommend. Or—” He hesitates again, “Or like your favorite?”

You don’t know why he's so flustered. You don’t know why it makes you flustered. For a beat, you just look at him. Is he… trying to flirt with me? The thought isn’t unwelcome, but you certainly weren’t expecting it, or really believing it just yet. You tilt your head, trying your best to keep your expression neutral.

“Well,” you say eventually, “We have an all day breakfast, and that’s my favorite part of the menu, and I get it a lot. It’s on the next page.”

You wait for him to turn the menu, but he continues to stare back up at you, mouth agape.

“... Is that something you’re interested in?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” he replies immediately. And then, more composed, “Yeah, I can be in the mood for breakfast.” He finally flips the page, and his head tilts up to yours fleetingly.

“Great! Our cook, Jim, makes the best strawberry and white chocolate pancakes, so that’s what I would recommend from the breakfast menu.”

His lips tug into a small, bashful smile. “Sounds perfect. I’ll take that.”

“Perfect!” you grin, scribbling his order onto your notepad. “I’ll take this to the kitchen, and have your coffee ready soon!” You flash him one more look before retreating back towards the kitchen. You finally get to look back at Carrie, who is still looking at you, this time arms crossed.

“How was the couple?” you ask when you’re about to pass her.

“Annoyed them enough to leave.” She grabs your wrist, and you just dodge the yelp that wants to escape your lips. “Do you know who you were just talking to?”

You freeze. Her grip is firm, her expression serious enough to make you hesitate. Your gaze darts briefly toward the dining area, but you stop yourself from looking back at him. The last thing you want to do is risk being caught gawking.

“I... no?” you whisper, unsure of how to answer. But even as you say it, you feel a subtle heat creeping up your neck. The weight of eyes on your back makes your skin prickle, as if the mystery man somehow knows he’s the topic of conversation.

“Why don’t you go check the newspaper in the locker room and get back to me, yeah?” she finally lets her grip go, smirking like she knows something you don’t.

Carrie's words linger repeatedly in your brain as you hesitantly allow yourself to drop off the man’s order, and then to go see whether or not you’re serving a serial killer. 

You slip the stripped paper from your notepad to Colin’s hands. “Table thirteen,” you say in passing as you make the rest of the way to the locker room, not even Judy’s cheerful wave as she smiles with a cupcake still in her hand can stop you from the mission you have decided to go on.

Upon entering the locker room, you gaze zeroes in newspaper lying flat on the bench, its closed pages teasing you with potential revelations about your current customer. You hesitantly flip it over as you come face-to-face with the front headline 

HIT AND DIP: ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON LEAVES IN HASTE AFTER CHICAGO SHOW 

Your eyes widen as they lock onto the grainy photo accompanying the article. There’s no mistaking it. The guy at table thirteen. Eddie Munson. Rockstar. Your customer. 

For the first time, you finally see his eyes. But instead of him taking his sunglasses off to reveal his brown hues, you see them straight on in the form of a camera flashing and printing onto the paper right in front of you. He looks borderline pissed as he’s gripping his guitar and shooing the paparazzi in the background away, the picture managing to catch the split-second that his eyes meet with the camera.

“He’s hot.”

You jump, clutching the newspaper to your chest as you turn to meet eyes with Judy casually leaning over your shoulder with a grin.

“Judy!” you hiss, sighing in relief. 

“What?” she says plainly, “He is.”

“He is also currently Evan’s customer on table thirteen that I now have to serve.”

Judy’s pupil’s dilate. “Oh shit.”

You want to make a joking comment, calling Judy a cougar, but you’re interrupted by Carrie peeking her head in through the door. She looks down at the newspaper in your hands, and then back to your eyes. “Told you,” she says, her smirk from earlier still on her face.

Before you can respond annoyingly, Jim’s voice blares through the back. “Order up!” he shouts. “Waffles for thirteen!”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of its sockets.

“Jesus, do you ever slow down?” Carrie yells out the door.

They hear Jim’s “No!” and fan out back into the kitchen.

“Good luck, my love,” sings Judy.

“Can you ask for an autograph?” asks Carrie. She motions to her belly and gives it a soft pat. “She’ll think I’m real cool!” 

“Ha, ha,” you roll your eyes, already holding the order as you kick the double doors open, passing back into the diner. You try your best to calm your heart as you pour coffee into the kettle, taking sugar from the side of the counter and putting two teaspoons into the mug. You feel eyes on you the entire time, and you don’t need to look up to know whose covered eyes they belong to. 

It’s not every day that you get to serve a goddamn celebrity, so she thinks that everyone should give her a break (she’s specifically talking to her heart—it needs to stop beating so rapidly, making her brain think something is wrong).

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you hold the plate on one hand, and the mug on the other. “Just a customer,” you whisper under your breath, beginning to walk. “Just a ridiculously famous, incredibly good-looking customer who better leave a stunning tip.”

As you approach table thirteen, you notice that Eddie shifts slightly in his seat. One of his legs bounces under the table, and he drums his fingers lightly against the edge of the booth.

You \ set the plate and coffee down in front of him, you catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Waffles and coffee,” you announce, sliding the plate and mug onto the table with practiced ease. You’re proud that your voice doesn’t shake—too much, anyway.

Eddie leans back, grinning up at you. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Your heart stops. You couldn’t help but think his eyes hold a knowing look, like he knew exactly what went down and now knows that you know exactly who he is.

“Enjoy,” you grin back. 

Behind you, you hear him mutter something under his breath, followed by a quiet groan, and you can’t help but feel a small flutter in your chest that he enjoyed what you recommended to him. 

The rest of the rockstar’s stay goes smoothly. You don’t intend on saying anything to give away what you know, despite it probably already being known, and you're grateful by this normalcy. You refill his coffee, make light conversation (the weather is particularly sunny and pretty today, shining through the windows and letting pretty glow spread through the diner), and take his plate when he’s wiped it clean.

You don’t even think much of his stay, mind already going back to it being a regular customer that deserves no more or less attention than anyone else is supposed to.

(Sure, his smile lingers in your mind a little longer than you’d like to admit—so what if his smile is better than any that you’ve seen, anyway?)

It isn’t until Eddie’s up and left and you trail back to the table to wipe it off, a damp rag in hand, do you notice the wad of cash left in his wake that is definitely worth more than his bill.

Your jaw drops down, staring at it and contemplating what to do with that much of an amount of money in front of you.

Next to it, a folded napkin sits.

Your mind immediately goes to an autograph; that he’s one of those celebrities, and he just couldn’t resist leaving a little something to prove of his appearance.

You’re taken back when you unfold it to see his number scribbled messily onto the fabric. Your fingers shake as you move your thumb to fully read the note that he added at the bottom,

Call me. Please. :)

[starlitiris]

“Once Upon a Dream” ~ (Sebastian x Reader x Painter)

Summary: “Sebastian takes a break in Painter’s room. While the two are chatting, the topic of their favorite expendable comes up! One of them is optimistic, filled with wonder and excitement over this new friend they’ve made. The other resents you for making him favor you. Conversations about you aren’t always fun.

Warnings: None aside from the fact that this fic is sad </3 Reader is once again gender neutral

~ 💭 ~

“There’s just something about them, Sebastian.” Painter says, sounding as if he’s daydreaming. And maybe he is. If a sentient AI can daydream. “They’re just so… nice! And funny! And a little dumb, but in a charming way, you know? They always stop by to hang out with me when they end up here. It’s…” His robotic voice imitates a thoughtful sigh. “I really like them.”

Sebastian is lounging right outside Painter’s cell, upper arms crossed in front of him and a cigarette held in his third hand. He tsks. “Don’t get attached, Painter. You know why they’re down here.”

He’s been staring at a wall nearly the whole time he’s been in there, mind seemingly lost in his own little world, as Painter was lost in his.

“I know… maaan this SUUUCKS! I wish we could just… I don’t know, take them with us!”

“Yeah, not happening.” Sebastian takes a puff of his cigarette.

“Uh, I know that? You don’t need to be such a party pooper. An AI can dream, Sebastian!”

“Oh, well I’m sorry for taking a big ol’ crap on your ridiculous and totally unrealistic dream. There’s no point in wishing for things that aren’t even remotely possible. The expendable is our enemy. They need that stupid crystal, and we need to stall them for as long as possible. Why waste time on a stupid dream where everything is all sunshine and rainbows, and everybody gets along? It’s idiotic to even entertain the idea. The world doesn’t work like that. It never does.” Sebastian’s tone was harsh and unforgiving. He scoffed, flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette, and resumed his staring contest with the boring, gray wall.

Painter’s feelings were a little hurt, he couldn’t lie. But he watched Sebastian. He watched the way his brows furrowed. The way his mouth twitched into an upset frown, something in between resembling sadness and anger. The way he fidgeted with the cigarette between his fingers. How his whole posture, leaning back against the wall, looked… well, grouchy. Grouchy was the perfect word Painter would use to describe this man. He knows his friend is hurting. The same way he was.

“I’m sorry.” Was all the computer could say.

Silence falls between the two. It lasts a few minutes before one of them breaks it.

“They were in my shop the other day.”

Painter’s pixel face raises a pixel eyebrow. “Aren’t they in your shop almost every day?”

“Yeah, would you- that’s not the point, let me finish.” Sebastian sighed and pinched where the bridge of his nose used to be. He continued. “They were alone again, so it was just us two.”

He took another puff. “They gave me that… big, stupid smile when they came through the vent. Like they always do. Things went the way they usually go. We greeted each other, they looked at my stock, bought a flashlight, a code breacher, and a couple batteries… but as they were putting their stuff in their belt and pockets, they said something.”

There was a pause.

“What did they say?” Painter asked, deciding Sebastian had been quiet for too long.

Sebastian let out a long, depressed sigh. A cloud of smoke left his maw. He thought for a moment.

“They said ‘I wish I could take you and Painter with me’.”

Another silence falls between them. But, unlike the last one, this one is filled with an air of understanding. Understanding, and a deep sadness to go with it.

“Said they’ve put a lot of thought into what we could do. Talked about how we could get a nice big house on the coast. Go on walks every day, and bring you with us so you could see the world again. Live hours away from the nearest city so we could be alone together, undisturbed. Just… away. Away from everything.” Sebastian goes quiet again. He doesn’t look angry anymore. He just looks… sad. Desolate.

“… Is this what love is, Sebastian?”

He glances over at his AI friend, pausing for a moment. Then he nods somberly.

Painter took his own moment to pause and think.

“Is love supposed to hurt this much?”

The mutant frowned deeply. Once again, he found himself staring at the wall. Bleak, dull, and void of any brightness or excitement. The wall reflects how he’s currently feeling, he concluded.

“I don’t know.” He puts his cigarette out on the floor, deciding he’s done with it. “That’s the thing about love. It’s great. It’s the best feeling in the world, until you can’t have it anymore. Then, it just… it hurts.”

He turns his head away from Painter, now staring at nothing in particular in the next room through the open door.

“And it never stops hurting.” He muttered, barely audible over the whirring sounds of the machinery surrounding the two.

“… Well…” Painter speaks up, sounding a little unsure of himself. “I’m at least happy to know I have loved.”

Sebastian slowly turns to look at the AI again, seeing the weary smile he had painted for himself. Sebastian finds himself smiling in return. It’s sad, tired, and barely there. But it’s there.

“… Yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s something.”

The two didn’t say much else beyond that point before Sebastian had to get back to work, scavenging and selling the goodies he finds. Now, he’s sitting idly in his shop. Just as Painter is, stuck in his room. They both sit, minds wandering off to the very person they’re eagerly awaiting to return to them. The very person that’s been taking up a little too much space in their minds lately.

You.

[straylightdream]

crying over you - drowning in my tears in my bedroom

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: bang chan x f.reader

↳ even after a bad fight he’ll still come to you to protect you during a thunderstorm.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: established relationship

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst and crying

𝐚𝐧: I wrote this trying to get passed my writers block. I might write more short stories for the other boys. If you would like to join any of my Stray Kids taglist please fill out this form.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

You had another fight. This one was over something stupid and you were both very aware of it as you laid in separate rooms both replaying the fight over in your head. You were both way too stubborn to go and apologize. One of your biggest flaws was that you’re stubborn, and it didn’t help that he was just as stubborn as you.

In the last few months you had had a couple of big fights, but this felt like the biggest one you had ever had. You both said things knowing that they would cut deep and now you're both left broken over it. Your relationship wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows but you knew you loved Chan so you always fought to make things work. You always tried your hardest to fix things, even Chan tried his hardest, but you were starting to wonder if it was all worth it. Was going to sleep crying worth this relationship.

You laid in silence staring at the ceiling wanting to tell him you were sorry but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Tears slid down your cheek needing him more then you had ever needed him but you couldn’t get out of bed to admit it. Swallowing back tears, you wondered if he was even worth fighting for anymore. You loved him with all your heart but at that moment, you hated him too. Even during your other fights, you had never gone to bed in a separate room. You always managed to kiss and make up, but you felt like this time there might not be any more making up. There was a stabbing feeling in your chest that this might truly be the end of you and Chan. You weren’t ready for your relationship to be over, but you’re hurt.

A clash of thunder struck outside your window making you jump. You hated thunder and it scared you even as an adult. Normally Chan would hold you during thunderstorms to make you feel safe, but tonight you laid in an empty bed in your guest room.

Curling up under your blankets you prayed sleep would soon find you. Thunder shook the window and you held your eyes closed tightly. You wanted to get up and run to Chan but you were still too headstrong to do it. Even when you’re scared you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

The sound of the bedroom door opening caused you to open your eyes. The bed dipped down next to you and you stayed completely still, not even bothering to look over at him crawling into the bed. A strong arm went around your soft torso and pulled you against his body. Another clash of thunder caused you to shiver against him.

Tightening his grip on you he whispered, “it’s okay.”

Tears slid down your cheek at the fact he came to your rescue even after the last words you had said to him in the living room were yelling you hated him. Closing your eyes, you held onto his arm as the storm ragged on outside.

-

He wanted to say something else to you but at that moment, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even plan on going into your room until maybe the morning. He wasn’t even sure you could work it out after the fight you had, but when the thunder started shaking the windows he knew you shouldn’t be alone. Swallowing his pride, he went to the girl he loved who needed him.

“Do you still hate me?” he whispered, wanting to know if you were going to be okay.

Tears continued to fall as you shook your head. “I never did,” you said, speaking to him for the first time.

“I know we both said some things that cut deep, but just know I love you,” he whispered.

“Okay,” you whispered as tears continued to fall. You couldn’t bring yourself to say you loved him for some reason at that moment. It might have been because you were still hurt, but you ultimately did still love him.

“Let’s get some sleep and we’ll work this out in the morning,” he sighed before pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“Are you always going to love me? Even when we fight?” You whisper.

He’s silent for a moment and holds you tighter. “I’m always going to love you, even after we fight.”

“Okay that’s good, because I’m worried you’ll stop loving me after this.” There’s a tight feeling in your chest that maybe one day he’ll get tired of fighting with you and stop loving you.

“We’re gonna work on stopping these fights. I want us to be together forever and know arguing isn’t healthy, but we can work on that together.” There is another clash of thunder that shakes the window. Whimpering you grip his arm holding on to him tightly. “Baby girl, it's okay.”

“I love you, and I want us to work it out,” tears stream down your face as you tell him you love him.

Ever so gently he presses his lips to the back of your neck. Closing your eyes you push back your tears. “Baby stop crying, we’re gonna be okay. We’ll fix this,” he says between gentle kisses on the back of your neck.

“Okay.”

Thunder continued to shake your windows as the storm continued all night. Chan never left your side comforting you. When morning came he reminded you that he loves you and that he truly wants to work things out. You know you’re gonna have to fight to make things work, but it’s worth it because you love him.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

honestly I’d just like to see poly!plastics x simp!reader because I just KNOW all three girls would take advantage of them in a cute way. Karen would definitely ‘make’ them do silly stuff with her 😭😭

Little Games

|| poly!plastics x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; Karen makes reader do a couples tiktok, goofy/fluffy vibes, karen focused, short drabble

|| Summary; when Regina and Gretchen go out on a date, Karen and reader are left to entertain themselves. Karen makes a tiktok.

Requests closed!

Started; November 17th

Finished; November 17th

~~~

The plastics. God, you could just go on and on about them. You loved your girlfriends. And sometimes they took advantage of that. Regina would usually ask you to do little tasks for her. Gretchen would ask for cuddles all the time, sometimes help with some stuff depending on how she's feeling that day. Karen? Karen just enjoyed having you around. She'd play something like little games with you. More often than not, it was making you be apart of those couple tiktok trends with her. Not that you minded. You never did. You'd do anything for them, after all.

"Today we're going to make Y/N laugh!" Karen walked over to you, camera in hand as she grinned. Holding a bag that you could only assume was full of items to supposedly make you laugh.

You looked up from your phone with a raised eyebrow. It was just you and Karen this evening, while Regina took Gretchen on a date. It was rare you and the plastics did things one on one. But sometimes you would. And so this time it was Regina's turn with Gretchen.

"Oh really?" You smirked at Karen, sitting yourself more comfortably on the couch where she joined you.

"Yup!" Karen giggled and you couldn't help but smile. She was just adorable. Wait, smiling didn't count for laughing, right? You haven't lost already? That would be embarrassing. Luckily, Karen didn't call it.

Karen got some stuff out of the bag. What looked to be one of those rubber screaming chickens and... a rainbow afro wig. Your eyes narrowed in confusion, wondering what the hell she was planning. Until Karen put the wig on the damn chicken and looked at you with the goofiest grin. You desperately tried not to laugh, because it looked utterly stupid. Your hand flew to your mouth in an attempt to stop yourself from laughing. Being reminded that Karen was recording. And what the whole purpose of the video even was.

"Karen- oh my God-" You mumbled through your hand and she laughed. Then her eyes widened.

"Wait. Am I out now?" Karen blinked. Looking a little surprised and pouty that she laughed. Her reaction was what ended up making you laugh.

"I thought it was just me you were trying to make laugh?" You raised an eyebrow, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the lips. Making sure to keep it brief with the camera.

"You laughed!!" Karen smiled and giggled, pulling you into a hug that you couldn't help but relax into. God she was adorable. You'd do anything for her.

[dreamlessimp]

— poster

itoshi rin x reader | 0.9k

you go to his game, and he gets mad

your notifications for football games had gone from a necessity, to a minor inconvenience. at first, they allowed you to watch many of rin’s games. it was a way to get closer, and worked well enough.

when he left though, the alerts began to sting in a way that was ever so dull.

still, eventually, you were the fortunate receiver of a welcome surprise—rin would be playing near your house.

disappointing as it was that he hadn’t told you, you were already used to it. you’d begun to speak less and less as time quickly passed, so it served no surprise. still, you tried to cling to the hope that you’d grow closer yet again.

not long after receiving the game notice, you decided to make a sign, a poster of sorts. something to cheer his name, and remind him of yours.

after acquiring poster paper, you pulled open a marker and began the meticulous job of outlining his given name.

resisting the urge to add heats, stars, anything to take up space, you elected to simply adorn the still-white paper with words of wished luck and victory.

though, you quickly fell to the urges and the once crisp white paper was turned into a rainbow you weren’t exactly proud of, but were happy to look at.

the day of his game, you happily grabbed your poster and made your way into the stadium. your seat was close enough to the field that you hoped your probably-just-friend would be able to spare you a glance.

the minutes after his game proved a bigger surprise than you could have possibly considered. not only did rin exclusively seek you out—but he was mad. at you.

you blinked back your shock. “what?”

rin’s eyes widened and he scowled. “i asked why the hell you came.” his voice was far too cold for comfort.

“i’ve come to so many of your games rin.” you choked out. 

“so? i’m asking you why.” he spat.

you were dejected. there was no sense or reason in his anger. it was so nonsensical that there was truly no point in clapping back.

“dammit rin.” you spoke quietly before turning around to leave, eyes as blank as rin’s were cold.

on the way back to your home, you throw away the sign. it’s just a coincidence that you chose the garbage bin outside of the home of itoshi rin.

hours later, rin texts you. ‘i’m sorry.’ he says. you’d have been shocked to find how much he meant it.

he hated his performance in the game. sure, he had scored, but it wasn’t the kind of goal that he wanted to score, the conditions were all wrong and it wasn’t right.

though, he despised his stupid anger at you even more. you had attended his game—which he’d never even told you about—with a sign. one that was obviously homemade no less, so clearly made by you and you alone unlike the so many printed signs he’d seen even that game alone.

he was, horribly stupid.

‘i’m sorry.’ you read from your phone. scoffing, you shut off the phone to sit on your bed, once again staring at the ceiling as you’d been doing for who knows how long.

whether you blamed yourself or rin, whether he had the right to be mad or you did, your mind was too thick to determine. what you knew though, was that you missed the rin you used to know so well.

soon, rin had a vague thought that he needed to stop his lonely pity party, and gathered up his garbage to throw away.

he absolutely did not expect to see that damned sign you made inside of his own garbage bin.

at the sight, the outside of his eyes filled with an unexpected liquid prompting him to instinctively reach up to scratch the pointless sensation.

in a haze, he threw in his trash and carefully picked up the largely undamaged sign. with it held carefully in his undeserving hands, he took it home.

rin took it into his room, where he propped it up on his dresser. from his position at his desk, he could just see it fall from the corner of his eye.

he walked back to once again prop it up, and stood as it wavered, and then fell once again. 

realizing it would not stand on his own, with a glance at your large writing proclaiming his own name, he walked over to the side of his bed and propped up your colorful sign with the soft plushie of a character he did not recognize, that you had once given to him.

it truly made sense that the few sources of color in his room came from you. 

allowing himself to dramatically fall back onto his bed, he gazed at his boring ceiling and waited for the minutes to tick by and for the dread to dissipate from his tired body.

you were wondering for possibly the thousandth time whether or not to respond to rin, when, yet again, you received another call.

letting it ring out, you finally decided to turn off your phone.

with your phone off, you missed the text he instantly regretted sending, but was entirely set on carrying out; ‘i’m coming over.’

[madebycloud]

Melting

wednesday addams x fem!reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you went trick or treating with your girlfriend. warnings/themes: fluff, soft!wednesday (ooc eheh), halloween, trick-or-treating, making out words: 1.8k

'Tis the witching season! 

The whole neighborhood is in a festive mood, with ghouls and ghosts lurking around, kids dressed up as their favorite or the scariest characters. 

Now, there's someone who couldn't care less about all the hoopla. 

You know Wednesday doesn't like to be all sunshine and rainbows, but secretly, you've always wished she would let her guard down and have some fun. 

“It's overrated,” she scoffs. But if there's one thing that can sway her, it's you. 

The nostalgia. You missed those carefree days when your only worry was scoring as much candy as possible in one night. And now you have the perfect opportunity to go back to your child self and relive those memories. 

“Pleeeeeeaaaaase Wednesday,” you whine, dropping to your knees and clasping your hands in front of her. 

She doesn't bat an eye. She just continues to write, her fingers moving across the typewriter. 

“Please baby, please love, please,” you try again, pulling out all the stops—cute silly nicknames, puppy dog eyes that you know she secretly adores. “It'll be super fun.” 

Finally, she stops writing. She lifts her head and turns to face you. She pauses for a long moment, considering your plea. “Fine. But only on one condition,” she starts. “I know it's important to you—so I'll indulge your request. This is just a one-time thing. We won't be making this a habit.” 

“Just... once?” 

“Just once,” she repeats. 

You think for a moment. “...okay.” You nod. “But I'll choose the costume.” 

She raises an eyebrow. “Fine, no funny business. Let's make this quick and clean, understood?” 

“Understood.” You grin.

—

“Hey there, Mario!” you exclaim with an exaggerated Italian accent while waving your hands around, trying to mimic how he does it. “It's-a-me, Luigi, your lovable sidekick!” 

“It's-a-me, Luigi? I don't know which I hate more—my ridiculous costume or your ridiculous sense of humor.”

Her eyes narrow as she looks down at the garish plumber's costume she's forced to wear. She even has to wear a fake mustache. “I can't believe I let you convince me to wear this ridiculous costume.”

You shrug nonchalantly, ignoring the daggers she's sending your way. “Don't worry, no one will recognize you as Wednesday with this get-up.” You wink, but she's having none of it. “Besides, this is just a 'one-time' thing, right?”

She groans. “Just make sure you carry this, you have a stronger arm.” With a huff, she hands you the pumpkin. “After all, you're the one who suggested this fiasco, so the least you could do is carry the stupid thing.”

Her hand snakes around your wrist. Her grip is so tight you can feel it even through your gloves. 

You both made your way to Jericho, the streets were alive with kids in crazy costumes running around, laughing and shouting as they made their way to different houses. The streets are lined with jack-o'-lanterns and spider webs. 

Suddenly, you spot a house that looks amazing. There are a few children waiting outside, excitedly chattering as they anticipate a chance to fill their buckets with candy.

“Let's try that one,” you say, pointing to the house. “They look like they're giving out some good treats.”

Wednesday just nods and crosses her arms, not seeming interested in going with you to get candies. “I'll just stay here,” she insists.

“Are you sure?” you ask, pausing to look at her for a moment.

She simply nods, waiting for you to get your candies. You give her a smile and head towards the house. You ring the doorbell and wait for someone to answer. A woman with a warm smile opens the door.

“Trick or treat!” you say, holding your pumpkin out.

However, the woman looks at you with disdain. “Aren't you a little too old for this?”

The smile slips from your face as you realize what she means. But before you can say anything else, she closes the door in your face. You stand there, stunned, staring at the closed door. 

That was rude.

You return to Wednesday, shoulders slumping as you hold up your empty pumpkin.

She looks at you, raising an eyebrow, as if to ask what happened.

You scratch the back of your neck and frown. She can almost see the smoke coming out of your ears. “She... she said I was too old for this.”

You can tell she's angry at the way you were treated, and you secretly hope she doesn't plan on getting back at the woman for her rudeness. She can't believe the audacity of that woman, as if there's an age limit for having fun.

Still, you don't let the incident put a damper on the rest of your night.

“It's fine, there's still a lot of houses we can try again,” you say, grabbing her arms and looking around for another house to approach.

But people keep telling you that you're too old for Halloween and refuse to give you candy.

Wednesday senses your disappointment and starts coming up with elaborate plans to avenge the people who have denied you treats. She seems determined to make them pay for their deeds, yet you keep trying to convince her to just move on and keep searching for sweets.

Just as you were about to give up, you came across a house with the porch light off, but you could hear giggling coming from inside. 

This time, Wednesday joins you in trick-or-treating.

Together, you knock on the door and a person in a ghost costume stands in the doorway, holding a bowl of candy. 

“Trick or treat,” you say, holding out your pumpkin for a sweet.

Wednesday's stare serves as a warning to the person not to disappoint you or suffer the consequences.

The man hesitates before finally grabbing a handful of candy from the bowl and thrusting it into your pumpkin, his hands shaking with fear.

You thank them, and Wednesday gives you a smile as you walk away. “See? Things aren't so bad after all.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes. “Let's just keep going,” she says, before pushing you forward towards the next house.

—

You were walking back from trick-or-treating, your pumpkin filled to the brim with sweets and goodies. 

“Let's go back,” Wednesday mumbles. Her hand slips into your biceps, yet she hardly even notices.

You nod, prepared to return home. However, before you can leave, you hear a voice from behind you. 

“Wednesday Addams?!” the boy says in shock, recognizing her beneath the Mario costume. 

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” Wednesday mutters. She can't believe someone recognized her in this stupid, ridiculous Mario costume. She can swear in her life that she's never felt so stupid.

You turn to see a boy dressed in a brightly colored insect costume, his antennae bobbing as he waves at both of you. “Hey Eugene!” 

Wednesday narrows her eyes. “What are you doing here, Eugene?”

“I came to get some candy!” He replies eagerly, his eyes sparkling, but then his eyes widen. “Wait... is that really you... Wednesday?” he asks, taking a step forward. 

Wednesday clenches her jaw and you stifle a laugh, amused by her reaction. You offer Eugene some candy from your pumpkin, and he excitedly accepts it, thanking you.

“Eugene, can you take a picture of us?” you request, handing him your phone. 

Wednesday snaps her head in your direction, her eyebrows furrowing as she glares at you. She's just about lost it. She swore in her mind that she will never take a picture wearing this ridiculous costume.

You flung your arm around her and gave a peace sign as Eugene held up your phone. You chuckle and give Wednesday's waist a reassuring squeeze.

“Three, two...”

Wednesday knows she will be miserable. But she looks at your smile and realizes that, despite her aversion to the costume, she doesn't want to ruin your fun. So she reluctantly struck a peace sign, hoping that no one would recognize her under that ridiculous mustache.

“One!” the flash flickers, and the photo is captured. 

She can't deny the warmth in her chest as she watches the picture saved to your phone.

—

Your feet are starting to feel tired after walking so much. Eager to rest your legs, the two of you make your way over to a nearby bench, tucked away amidst the shadows of the trees. 

Wednesday is now holding the pumpkin-shaped basket full of sweets while you gaze up at the stars in the sky. She pulls out one of the candies and pops it into her mouth.

“Taste good?” You turn to look at her. 

“Tastes like poison,” she teases before popping it into her mouth.

You can't help but stare at her lips. Why did her lips look like they were begging to be kissed?

“Do you want one?” Wednesday asks, seemingly reading your thoughts. 

You're too stunned to speak, but a soft “yes” managed to escape your lips. 

Smile curves on her lips, as if she knew exactly what she's doing. She offers the candy before you swallow it whole, savoring the sweetness on your tongue. 

A glance at her lips and then back at her eyes tells her everything she needs to know.

Before you knew it, Wednesday leans in to share the sweet with you, her lips soft and supple on yours, the taste of candy still lingering on your tongue.

When you finally pull away, you're left weak in the knees and breathless.

Wednesday's lips parted slightly, her breath brushing against your cheek. You lean in again, but she stops you with a hand on your chest.

“One condition,” she whispers.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“I get to choose the costume next year.”

“We're going to trick or treat again next year?” you ask, grinning. “Fine,” you concede, “your choice of costume next year then.”

With Wednesday's permission granted, you lean in for another kiss, this time lingering even longer than before.

But you pull away, teasing her. “Wait.”

“What now?”

“Well, I was thinking we could dress up as Remy and his human companion, Alfredo from Ratatouille.”

Her eyes narrow, annoyed at your ridiculous choice.

“Okay, I admit, that was a terrible idea, but what about SpongeBob and Patrick? or I can go as Squidward, and we can be rivals instead,” you suggest, desperate to find a costume she'll actually like.

You can see the corner of her lips twitching up into a smile. “You did not just suggest that.”

“Oh yes I did.”

“I'm not dressing up as a rat with a chef's hat next year, that's for sure. And you're not going to make me dress up as a sponge either.”

You smirk. “Maybe not, but I'll still find a way to make you dress up as something ridi—”

Before you finish your sentence, Wednesday's lips are on yours once more, drowning out your words. Her fingers glide down your jaw as she draws you in closer.

“That's it,” she whispers between kisses. “You're stuck with me now.”

And you wouldn't want it any other way.

note: me

[fourmoony]

fizz pop lolly - James Potter x Fem!Reader

smut, barely any plot. p in v. unprotected sex. language. james is a bit of a perv.

18+ work, minors DNI.

not proof read. 2k words.

...

It’s pervy.

James knows it’s pervy, but he can’t stop himself. You’re not even aware he’s ogling you, gone in your own world that he imagines has fairies, rainbows and butterflies floating around in that pretty little head of yours. He’s sure if anyone caught sight of him staring, they’d catch on immediately, know just how sick and twisted his mind really is because his eyes are dead set on the hemline of your skirt, his mouth open awaiting flies. You’re resting your hands on the table on the far side of the library, supposedly reading a textbook for a source you need for your essay on Care of Magical Creatures, and the way you’re bent over ever so slightly has your skirt rising from its already high placement.

It's sick. It’s downright fucking twisted. You’re so sweet, so innocent, such a pretty soul – for fucks sakes you run study groups and tutor first years in your rare free time – and all James can think about is how he wants to walk up behind you, put his hand between your shoulder blades and push until you’re flat against the table, flat against his dick.

But.

But it would be criminal not to look, right? Not to enjoy the way you pop your hip to the left when your legs obviously get tired of having stood up for so long. He swears he can make out the bottom of your arse cheek and he about chokes on his own bloody saliva. Your legs look so smooth, like he could run his hands up and down them, listen to the quickening of your breath and feel nothing but silk. God, he’s deranged. Guilt swirls in his stomach with lust, a never-ending battle that he shouldn’t be staring – actually, he should probably go over and tell you he’s likely not the only one looking, for your own sake – but that he physically cannot bring himself to stop.

He can’t stop thinking about you, about how you’d feel wrapped around him, soft and pliant under him, the sounds you’d make. He’s hard as a rock, blood rushing from his head to his dick and he finds it’s getting easier and easier to keep looking, guilt free, with the lack of blood up there.

He’s both grateful and ready to raise hell when Sirius appears behind you, returning from his hunt for a book he’d needed for a prank, and blocks you from James’ view. Sirius takes a seat across from James and he groans inwardly. Sirius’ stupid head is blocking your perfect arse from James’ view and that won’t do.  

“How can I see the book if you’re sitting over there?” James tries.

Sirius looks up, brows furrowed, “Uhm, you don’t need to? I’ll just tell you once I find the spell.”

“Yeah, but- Like, I need to- wouldn’t it be better if I checked it? Made sure it was the right spell?” James stutters like an absolute fool, and he wants to bang his fucking head into the desk.

Sirius catches on immediately. James wants to die as his best friend looks around, spotting you behind him. His head whips around at breakneck speed, his eyes wide with mischief. James jumps into action, trying to cover Sirius’ mouth before he makes an announcement that James Potter is a massive fucking pervert in front of the entirety of the Hogwarts Library. Sirius dodges, laughing maniacally, breathless and sputtering and James just panics and shoves the table as hard as he can into Sirius’ stomach and ribs.

He heaves a breath of air, winded, eyes wide and accusatory. Problem solved, James thinks, whilst Sirius is doubled over, head no longer blocking his view. Until he looks up, eyes searching, and finds you sauntering over, brows furrowed. Shit, he thinks, shit, shit, fucking shit.

“What are you two up to, now?” You ask, brow raised and a hint of a smile on your lips.

And oh god, your lips. So full, so soft, so pretty. James feels like he’s the one who’s had a table slammed into his ribs. Sirius still has his head on the desk, groaning and gasping for air. James couldn’t give two shits when you take the seat next to his, give him your full attention, cross one of your legs over the other and sit oh so bloody pretty. Godric, James would like to ruin you.

“Oh, nothing. Just studying.” James tries his best at casual.

You look at the table in front of you with amusement. There’s no study material. Just empty sweetie wrappers, a couple marbles and the one book Sirius needed for a prank. James flushes red. Fuck.

“Hm. Clearly.” You say, eyes twinkling.

You’re so beautiful, James thinks. So fucking pretty.

“Well,” You chirp when James literally can’t think of anything to say, “Next time Sirius is about to out you for staring at my arse, I’d go for a silencing charm over bodily harm.”

With that, you stand and turn, and James is pretty much face to face with said arse. You bend a little, pretending to fix your socks and James thinks he’s going to die. Literally. Die. Like, on the spot. You’re so sweet, so innocent – or so he thought. He’s in over his head. Truly. His brain simply short circuits. You leave, walking away, swinging your hips as you go and James is up and out of his seat, hot on your heels. You feel him at your back, smile to yourself. Sirius holds a finger up to James as he leaves, only to be thwarted on the back of the head by Madam Pince as she passes.

James follows you through the hallways, up staircases, until he realises, you’re headed for the seventh-floor corridor. It’s dark and abandoned and a well-known area for hooking up. His heart rate accelerates. If he’d have known you’d catch him staring and bring him here? He’d have felt less guilty about it and done it way more often.

You stop and turn to face him at the end of the corridor, swallowed by shadows but he can still see the bright shine to your eyes, the wideness of your smile. You’re waiting, playing games and James always wins.

“You were showing off on purpose?” He asks, crowding you against the wall.

You look up, bite your lip and fuck James is pretty much gone already. Your head tilts, hair sprawling over your shoulder, picture of innocence. James knows now that it’s a farse. And he’s determined to break the act, have you begging, pleading, destroyed for and by him. Your hands, dainty and a little cold, reach out for his forearms, pulling him slightly towards you. He smiles, a hint of knowing in his eyes that has your knees buckling.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Jamie.”

James tuts, towering over you. He presses his lips to the side of your neck, inhales your perfume and fuck he’s hard all over again, “You know fine well what you were doing to me.”

You hum, hands running up his arms to rest on his shoulders, sliding around to the nape of his neck and grabbing a fist of his hair. “Maybe.”

James smiles, nips the skin at the nape of your neck. He pushes his weight against you, you sigh in delight. His hands are everywhere, along your waist, the tops of your thighs, your tits. It’s not until he slides his hands up your skirt, desperate to feel the flesh of your arse that he realises you’re not wearing any underwear and he almost comes on sight. His breath is shuddering, mouth pressed against the skin of your neck and dear Godric, he thinks, how could he have ever assumed you were anything other than a dirty, filthy slut?

“I really wanted to take my time,” He huffs, pulling back until he’s centimetres from your lips, “But right now the only thing I can think about is ruining you.”

You nod, a huff of breath like it’s been punched out of your lungs at his words, “Please.”

With that, James kisses you. Hot and heavy and dirty and fuck he’s never been so glad to have been perving on you. You moan when he lifts you up, hands firm on the backs of your thighs, like you weigh nothing and keeps you propped up with his hips against the wall. It’s all consuming, having him everywhere, all around you. His smell, his sound, his tongue searching your mouth, his lips, his teeth, his hands, his dick, pressed so nice against your bare cunt.

He shifts, you squeal, head hitting against the brick wall.

His fingers trace you, teasing, only for a second, before he’s knuckle deep and you’re keening, bucking against him, fingers digging crescent moons into his shoulders. James swears he’s in heaven, the way he has you – desperate and soaking fucking wet. All because of him.

“James,” You moan, one hand cupping his neck and cheek, your hooded eyes are looking into his, “Need more. Need you. Please.”

James isn’t going to make you ask twice. Maybe when he has more time. Next time he’s going to take his time. Next time he’s going to be patient, watch you fall apart, make you beg. At least, he hopes there’ll be a next time. He thinks he might die if he never gets to see you like this again. Your head is thrown back, neck exposed, breaths coming in pants as he whips himself out of his trousers. He lines himself up, you keen, and he takes a deep breath before he slams up into you.

You practically scream, clenching around him, legs tightening around his waist. James swears he sees stars. You’re so warm, so tight, and you’re whimpering and bucking against him. He feels hot and heavy and he’s hitting spots you never imagined. The breath punches from your lungs when he sets a fast and hard pace, hands gripping at any skin he can find. He’s moaning into your skin, grunts and profanities and you’re sure that anyone who comes within a mile of the seventh-floor corridor will hear the sinful noises coming from the pair of you.

It’s hot and dizzying and your skin feels like it’s on fire with every thrust that he bullies into you.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, so tight…” James is aware he’s just speaking his mind, unfiltered and uncaring. He has no shame, not when he’s slamming into you like it’s his sole purpose on this earth. Maybe it is, he thinks.

You groan, clenching around him, “Jamie, I’m so close.”

“I know, I know, let go, pretty girl.” He coos, reaching between you to rub at the swollen bundle of nerves that’s been crying out for attention.

You spasm, coming on the spot at the stimulation and his words. He’s two seconds behind you, an embarrassingly loud moan escaping him, but he can’t find it in him to care when you’re still whining and bucking against him. You’re both seeing stars, pressed together, still fully clothed, breathless, and floating down.

Realisation sets in, the silence of the corridor is deafening.

Until you laugh.

You giggle maniacally like he’s said the funniest thing in the world and James frowns in confusion. He lets you down, tucks himself back into his pants all whilst you’re still giggling. It’s not until you stop, breathless, and reach up to press a kiss to his lips that he smiles dumbly.

“Took you long enough, Potter.”

James’ head spins. You’re there, standing in front of him, two seconds after being completely ruined, whining, and bucking on him, innocent act completely gone. He’s so dopily happy at the way you’re smiling up at him.

“How long-“

“The time you were staring at me eating a fizz pop lolly.” You answer for him.

This time, James laughs. Six months. You’ve known for six months that he’s been innately obsessed with you.

“Fucks sakes.”

You giggle again and fall into his arms, he pulls you backwards, pliant in his arms as you laugh and stumble all the way along the hallway.

[strawberryanqel]

| 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙪𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬

Summary: Percy Jackson, the ever-cheerful son of Poseidon, meets you, the grumpy daughter of Hades, at Camp Half-Blood. The sun meets the shadows, and an unexpected friendship forms.

Pairing: Platonic! Sunshine! Percy Jackson x Platonic! Grumpy! Female! Reader

───────────────୨ৎ───────────────

Percy Jackson had always been the embodiment of sunshine. His laughter was infectious, his smile could light up the darkest of rooms, and his optimism was unwavering. It was almost annoying how cheerful he could be. Almost.

You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite. The daughter of Hades, you were known for your stoic demeanor and your ability to silence a room with a single glare. It wasn't that you hated everyone; you just found most people insufferably optimistic and loud. Especially Percy.

The first time you met him, you were sitting alone at the edge of the campfire, your hood pulled over your head, trying to blend into the shadows. You weren't in the mood for the usual campfire songs and s'mores. You preferred the quiet, the solitude.

Percy, however, had different plans.

"Hey, mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice casual yet curious. You looked up, your eyes narrowing.

"Do I have a choice?" you muttered, not bothering to hide your irritation.

Percy grinned, not at all deterred by your grumpiness. "Not really," he said, plopping down next to you. "I'm Percy, by the way."

"I know who you are," you replied curtly. Everyone knew Percy Jackson.

"And you are?" he prompted, his green eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Y/N," you replied, hoping that would be the end of it. But Percy Jackson was nothing if not persistent.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. So, you're a child of Hades, right?" he asked, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

You raised an eyebrow. "What gave it away? The gloom and doom vibe?" you asked sarcastically.

Percy chuckled. "Something like that," he said. "I just thought you might want some company."

"I don't," you said flatly, but Percy just smiled.

"Well, too bad. You're stuck with me now," he said.

And stuck with him you were. Percy had a way of worming his way into your life, no matter how much you tried to push him away. He'd show up at the weirdest times, like when you were practicing your sword fighting or when you were reading in the forest. He always had that stupid, infectious grin on his face, and you'd find yourself almost smiling back.

Almost.

One afternoon, you were sitting by the lake, the water calm and peaceful. You liked it here; it reminded you of the Underworld, in a weird way. Percy, of course, found you.

"Hey, Y/N!" he called, running up to you with his usual enthusiasm. "Whatcha doing?"

"Enjoying the peace and quiet," you replied, hoping he'd take the hint and leave you alone. But Percy Jackson never took hints.

"Mind if I join?" he asked, already sitting down next to you.

"Why do you even bother?" you asked, genuinely curious. "I'm not exactly friendly."

Percy shrugged, his smile never faltering. "I like you, Y/N. You're different. Besides, everyone needs a friend."

You scoffed. "I don't need friends," you muttered, but there was a hint of doubt in your voice.

Percy looked at you, his eyes softening. "Maybe not. But it doesn't hurt to have one," he said gently.

You were silent for a moment, contemplating his words. Percy had this annoying way of making sense, even when you didn't want him to.

"Fine," you said finally. "But don't expect me to be all sunshine and rainbows."

Percy grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it," he said. "But maybe, just maybe, you'll lighten up a little."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small, reluctant smile on your lips. "Don't count on it," you said, but for the first time, you didn't mind his company.

As the weeks went by, you found yourself warming up to Percy. He was relentless in his optimism, and while it was infuriating at times, it was also strangely comforting. He had this way of making you feel seen, even when you wanted to disappear into the shadows.

One day, as you were sitting by the campfire, Percy sat next to you, as usual. But this time, he was quiet, thoughtful.

"What's wrong?" you asked, surprised by your own concern.

Percy looked at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Just thinking," he said. "About how glad I am that I met you."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a warmth in your chest that you couldn't ignore. "You're such a dork," you muttered, but there was no heat in your words.

Percy laughed, a sound that you were beginning to find less annoying and more... endearing. "Maybe. But I'm your dork."

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn't mind that.

"Yeah," you said softly. "I guess you are."

In that moment, as the campfire crackled and the stars shone above, you felt something shift. Percy Jackson, the eternal sunshine, had managed to bring a little light into your life. And for once, you didn't mind the brightness.

───────────────୨ৎ───────────────

I hoped you guys enjoyed this! This is my first fic posted and if you have any feedback or requests for sunshine! percy x grumpy! reader, feel free to send me a message or send something to my inbox! As always i encourage discussions regarding my fics, fandoms I'm in, my writing style, and whatever you guys want to talk about! Want to request something else? I write for Marvel, Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, Criminal Minds, and almost all Chris Evans shows/movies! Happy reading!

[moonstruckme]

So, I know you don't commonly really write for steddie, and you don't have to write this if you don't wanna. But what about Like, reader graduates hawkins high and goes of to college (eddie is probably still held back for his last year???) And when she left she was more on the quite side, soft color pallet, kinda stariotypical pastel sunshine character. And she comes back for the summer and she's like, more punk-ish??? Like a few more piercings, and same kinda quite personality but kinda different aesthetic?

I think you could do something similar with poly!marauders as well, where same thing happens but it's over the summer between years?

Idk, you dont even have to write it, I just have a stupid soft spot for this weird trope/character arc. Make sure to take care of yourself and have a lovely day!!!!!

I'm happy to write for any characters on my list, thanks for requesting gorgeous! Hope you're having a lovely day and taking care of yourself as well <3

Steddie x fem!reader ♡ 637 words

Steve and Eddie are scanning the crowd for you up until the very moment you come up to them. Even then, it takes Eddie a second to recognize you. 

“Hey,” you say, tentative. 

“Hey,” Steve says, stepping forward. “Shit, honey, come here.” 

You grin, some of the apprehension easing from your features as you hug him. 

“Shit,” Eddie agrees, wrapping his arms around the both of you. “Almost didn’t recognize you, sunshine.” 

Sunshine might not even be the best nickname for you now. When you’d left for college last fall, you’d looked like the rainbow had befriended you personally. All pastels, colorful sweaters and flowy little skirts. Now, it’s like you’ve been plucked from a graphic novel. Your clothes are dark down to the shoes, with ripped black tights under your shorts and lace-up combat boots that, frankly, Eddie thinks might get a little hot in the Indiana summer. He wonders if you’d be amenable to him calling you his little bat. Or witchling, maybe? He’ll have to workshop it. 

“You look so different.” Steve sounds positively flabbergasted, stepping back to take you in more fully. “I mean, not a bad different, I just—wow, it’s really…” Eddie snickers. In his opinion, you look far less like someone Steve Harrington would ordinarily date (the girl next door, preppy style, Nancy Wheeler clone) and more like someone he would (cool as fuck). Luckily for you, they both love you down to your ooey gooey core no matter how you present yourself. 

“It’s a new look, babe, and it’s fucking sick,” Eddie summarizes. “Is this what college does to people? Maybe I should come visit.” 

You roll your eyes at him, flushing faintly. Another pro of your new style: the pink of your face stands out ever-so-much-more brilliantly against your new dark palate. 

“I’m serious, sweetheart,” Eddie goes on, delighting in watching your color change. “I need you to start coming to my shows so we can lure in your crowd. You’re too fucking cool for us now.” 

Your shoulders start to come up around your ears, but Steve saves you, tucking you under his arm with a kiss to the top of your head. “She was always too cool for us,” he says. It’s the truth, and Eddie sends you a wink to make sure you know he knows it. “You look amazing, really. God, we’ve missed you so—is that a tattoo?”

Eddie all but lunges for you. “Where?” 

“Here,” Steve says, stretching the collar of your shirt over your shoulder, where an inky design sits starkly against your skin. “Shit, this is so cool.” Eddie jostles for space, head squishing between yours and Steve’s to get a better look. “It really works for you.” 

You smile bashfully. “Thanks.” 

“Fuck me,” Eddie breathes, and you shiver pleasantly as his breath his your shoulder. “Actually, if I can get us to Steve’s in five minutes, would you top me right now? This is too fucking hot—oh, don’t look at me like that, Stevie boy. You know you like it too.” 

“I do,” Steve says, giving Eddie a look that’s probably aiming for stern but only hitting fond as he tries to coax your face from his chest. “It looks great honey, when did you get this?”

Your voice is characteristically quiet, but a bit proud, when you say, “That one’s from a couple months ago. I got my first last November, though.”

“Your first?” Eddie’s gobsmacked. “How many are there? Wait, no, don’t tell me.” He grabs you by the legs, hoisting you over his shoulder. “I wanna find ‘em.” 

“Eds, put me down!” You hiss in his ear, but your words are undercut by giggles. “Steve!”

“Sorry, but I’m kinda on board with this one,” Steve says with an apologetic shrug in your direction. He tosses Eddie the keys. 

[fjordline]

i cannot believe i wrote an essay for a comment on my post asking for my opinion.. only to get blocked before i could reply 💔

disclaimer: this is about something as unimportant as a character in a transformer comic and why i don't like him

i dont want to make anyone who's a tailgate superfan feel bad or anything this is just my personal opinion as someone who has read all of idw1. despite of how it may seem.. i do not identify as a hater! anyway, he's not an overtly bad character at the start, the contrived asspulls begin around the tyrest arc, tg supposedly has one day left to live because of lethal cybercrosis. he goes on to save everyone by jumping tyrest and then later rewriting the code of the legislators. and after a drawn out sad monologue on his death bed, cyclonus stabs him with his greatsword which…. for some reason cures his deadly illness. and it only gets worse once megatron arrives, the whole narrative bends over backwards to asskiss megatron and make you think of tailgate as some kind of cute mascot character to set up for the getaway 'villain' arc. tailgate is written as a stupid baby who earnestly believes he's injecting megatron with an 'anti-villain-virus' to get rid of his evil thoughts, his holoform is also. a baby. jro tries to make getaway look bad by making him cartoonishly evil, when, what getaway did cannot begin to be compared to everything megatron was doing right up to his trial. yet getaway gets all his limbs and jaw amputated and megatron gets to carry on with his ''''''''''''''''reformed autobot''''''''''''''' shit and all the good guys stick up for him.

yet somehow even worse than the megatron bootlicking is the 'energy spasm' incident. when cyclonus is shot while protecting tailgate and this causes him to be sooooo heartbroken that he .. has a panic attack that causes some kind of rainbow wave to go off for no reason. this wave somehow, not only wakes thunderclash up from his coma, but gives tailgate inexplicable super strength invincibility powers. It boggles my mind what made tg deserve any of that, because he cared about cyclonus and was sad he seemingly died? does that mean chromedome wasn't sad enough when rewind died or he also would have energy spasmed? this is around where i stopped on my last re-read so i don't remember the specific events of lost light quite as well, i do remember it not getting much better though.

and i personally cannot stand smol uwu bean type characters, when he says some shit like 'i deserve a heckin bomp for this' i start wanting to drown in a bathtub. cyclonus deserves so much better. they have no chemistry. they're just the 'grumpy x sunshine OTP XD' trite trope. whirl and cyc have a 200000 times more interesting dynamic. rodimus and his hatred of hats is a more interesting dynamic.

i feel like cyc gets bogged down so hard by the romance plot hes forced to take part in, when he's away from tg he is so much more entertaining and interesting. at a certain point it's like he starts doing fuck all except hang around tailgate and wax poetic about their love. cdrw manages to never be annoying when they're loveydovey with each other, but cygate drives me up the wall

mtmte is simultanously so good… yet so mald inducing that it compels me to write shit like this. i wouldnt care so much about this one fucking robot if (most of) the rest of the comic wasn't so excellent

this is all subjective obviously and i havent seen anyone else dislike tg other than me and some friends. he literally seems to be universally loved so maybe im just sick and twisted.

[elsfleur]

⋆·˚ ༘ * COOL ABOUT IT - PART TWO

ellie williams x reader

summary: it was an odd thing to enjoy your work, but with a passion for music and a fling with your coworker the days at the record store seemed bright, until of course you meet her girlfriend.

content warning: i guess it’s angsty, very filthy smut with sub!ellie and dom!reader, mentions of cheating and bad self image, implies of degradation, mentions of masturbation

word count: 1,749 and previous part here

📼 ʾ ⠀

she would come to you in dreams, pale green eyes pointed at you like a weapon, body soft as a menace, reach out towards your face and in tenderness you’d surrender as though you never meant to have walked away in the first place. you’d wake up panting the nights you’d forgive her, you’d shower away the disgust the nights you thought to have felt her tongue– traitor was a dramatic word, but your heart claimed it as ellie’s synonym.

work had become insufferable but you grew into an astoundingly good employee, never at the break room as to not encourage ellie into a conversation, constantly roaming around and chatting up clients with entire discography conversations going as far as escorting them to their car in odd fashion, you appeared sparkling and every glance of your shine that reached ellie’s senses immediately sent her skin on fire. she had been miserable and lazy, escaping from her thoughts only through deafening music as to drown out the distance between you, you too a constant in her nightly affairs, forgiving, beautiful, near.

she melted into the couch imagining it your embrace, let the melody transport her into better times, hated herself for replacing her songs with your laugh as a favourite track, for indulging in temptation through entirely wrong means. she thought herself a symptom of disease, wreckening plague in the lives of those she cherished that once established could only widespread devastation. the idea that perhaps keeping you casual and secret would make it unknown to the universe and therefore not give it the power to ruin it was stupid, once she fully thought it out, but it had been comforting. allowing your affection to fill in the broken cracks of her being as though glueing them together was a sensation she knew selfishly not deserved but craved as a drug addict. you thought she called you her angel as a bit, but she felt it pulsing through her veins.

tears prickled her eyes for the eleventh time that shift, heavy metal not enough. turning the volume down her body rolled sideways and she begged it into slumber for moments of peace.

“wake the fuck up williams we’re mid shift” you cursed taking hold of her headphones and tossing them aside rather agressively, the girl immediately stood up overwhelmed, a scoff being her immediate response to your turned back heading out the room.

“what the fuck? you haven’t spoken to me for fucking weeks those are the first words you say to me since you left this place before i could even explain anything and you just go walking away again?”

“jesus christ, i’m sorry someone woke up cranky from their midday nap but what the fuck else do you even want me to say? oh right i’m sorry, how about how’s your girlfriend?”

“we broke up” ellie stated simply before interruption.

“great! and i suppose you want me to run into your arms straight into a sunset beach now while it rains unicorns and rainbows, isn’t that right?”

“oh my god you are the most insufferable human being i have ever met! i fucking hate you and i hate the way every time we walk to work together you have to stop and pick out a flower at every single bush we walk by and if i don’t put it behind my ear your feelings gets hurt and you have the goofiest smile making fun of me, and i hate the stupid witchy herbs you make me ruin my weed with that makes it taste so girly and like you and i hate the way my mouth memorized your fucking lipgloss to the point i can’t do anything without feeling you on my lips and it drives me fucking insane, i hate your frilly little love songs that only start sounding not so bad by the hundredth listen and i hate that i fucking know the lyrics to taylor swift now and you made me relate to them! i hate your smile and i hate that fruity perfume you wear that always gets stuck to my clothes and i hate the way you looked at me like i’m a good person to the point i almost believed you for a second and and i hate your lame ass sense of humour and how you’re the only one who laughs at my fucking jokes and god worst of all i hate the way i can’t even begin to hate you at all!”

you opened your mouth to reply though not quite sure what words would escape you, but she was quicker, pacing around and heightening her tone in complete desperation that cracked knuckles in soothing.

“no and you know what? yes i fucked up and i cheated on my three year relationship but we were fucking done! we have been done for years! and we haven’t been more done since the day i first laid eyes on you and thought this girl is going to fucking ruin my life! i am worse than a cheater, yes, i’m a coward! because guess what angel, it has always been you. god, it probably has been you since before i even knew you existed and you don’t understand how insane it is to say this because you’re the one who believes the whole soulmate bullshit! i’m a mess and i’m fucked up and i’m too much and still not enough and-“

“ellie” you called out, her eyes finally meeting your own as you felt immersed in the same light green dreams you have ferociously tried to escape from, the pink lips you knew so intimately quivering at your stare as though taunting you to kiss its fear away, you had heard enough for an answer “kneel.”

“what, do you want me to beg for your forgiveness now?” ellie asked ironic though her legs were compliant, lowering themselves till she fell on her knees, running a hand through her messy hair to keep it from falling on her face staring up at you in clear shot.

“take off your shirt” you demanded, watching intently as she lifted up her arms to remove the fabric obeying though deeply confused, her cheeks flushing red with the attention, eyes drifting everywhere except for your face until your hand found the edge of her chin and forced it up to meet your eye “you’ve done enough talking”

“i fucking hate that you lied to me” you started impossibly close to her face “i hate the way you ruined this job for me, i hate that i can’t look at you without feeling sick with desire like a desperate whore pulsating at flashes of skin, i hate that i’m so used to moaning your name that you may aswell have ruined sex for me aswell, and i fucking hate how your little girlfriend kissed you infront of me and doesn’t even know your mouth was sucking on me minutes earlier, take off your pants”

she slowly rose up to detach herself from the jeans squeezing her figure, only to be pushed back down once fully rid of them back onto the ground, you weren’t finished.

“i hate that i can see how wet you are right now, i hate that you have made it so i feel disgusted to touch you, i hate that i still want to do it so fucking bad as if your moans in my ear would erase your dumb mistakes from my memory. just a question, were you fucking her when you were with me too? nevermind that’s silly, of course you were, unless you spent six months making her believe you have gone celibate-“

ellie shook her head hard, gulping down “n-no i didn’t, i told you angel it was a façade relationship all i wanted-“

“shut up. touch yourself” you ordered as she slid a hand under her underwear, lightly rubbing on her clit and silencing own whimpers through biting down her lip “i hate that i have to ask myself if she made you feel good like i did, if she knows your whole dominant archetype is actually just hiding a brat who wanted to be ordered around and fucked so bad, right els? did she get you on her knees for her too, touching yourself to the thought of her before she even took off her clothes? or am i just special?”

“angel” ellie moaned out, inserting a finger into herself.

“does she know about the freckles on your hipbone that look like the gemini constellation? did she see the bite mark i left there last time we fucked? does she know you like it when i spell my name on your pussy with my tongue, has she tried it? do you remember what it feels like to be inside me as opposed to her, remember begging to add more fingers so you could feel my walls closing in on you, remember staying inside even after i came because you wanted to feel the warmth around you, was she warm for you, ellie?” you asked, warm breath hitting her face like a makeout.

“angel, please” she begged embarrassingly.

“please what? use your fucking words since you wanted to have the last one so fucking bad”

“please fuck me” ellie moaned out arching her back with a gasp as you easily slid one of your own fingers inside her alongside hers, the sounds of wetness with your every thrust bordering filthy.

“i hate that i can’t fucking stop dreaming about you, that you’re so fucking wet for me you’re drenched, that i’m thinking after all this making me an idiot i shouldn’t let you cum, how’s that?” you asked curling your fingers inside her which lead to a near pornographic moan escaping past her lips and an aggressive head shook to your words “i hate your stupid lake eyes and how they shine like galaxies, i hate the way you hold my hand to cross the street because you know i get distracted, i hate the way you effortlessly played my favourite song on the guitar although you claimed before to not like it, i hate how badly i want to fuck the attitude out of you until my heart stops hurting about this”

“i’m sorry, my angel, i’m so sorry” she croaked out whimpering, swaying her hips for friction with your fingers every movement making it harder to keep a cleared mind, dizzy in desire “fuck, i’m here now please please let me show you i can be good i want to be yours”

“want?” you chuckled removing your fingers and shoving them by her mouth so she’d taste herself on them, sucking slowly “you are mine, ellie. i just haven’t decided if i’m yours”

[blvdymary]

Past Mistakes Catching Up

pairing: Jackson Rippner x Reader

Summary: You can’t escape him, even if you tried.

Genre: Darkfic

Warnings: Murder threats

Word count: 1.5k

Note: I was troubled with exams for the past two weeks and I realised I was neglecting writing stuff so I decided to write this. (I still have 3 more exams to go through)

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Breathe in, breathe out.

That was all you could focus on. Don't look at him. You looked out the window, feeling his deadly gaze at the back of your head. Go away.

Breathe in.

“You know, if you don’t want to be cold out on the floor I suggest you start picking up the phone and making this stupid call.” There it is. The man you avoided for the past 7 years, telling you what to do once again. He liked to think he owned you, what a narcissist. Every time you had someone special in your life, he would threaten to kill them and make you suffer till someone realises you were missing. He insisted on you breaking off the relationships via phone call, he thought you would try running away if it was face-to-face, and you totally would. I want this to end.

Breathe out.

With trembling hands, you picked up the phone he was handing out so persistently and dialed your significant other's number. Not everything is sunshines and rainbows as they display in the media.

“There, I did what you want. Now please, please I’m practically begging you, leave me alone Jackson.” You cried, that was all you could do in this situation anyway. He kissed your cheek slowly, making you nauseous. “You’re all mine, baby. I won’t let anyone else get near you.” He cupped your cheek sweetly —to him, it was a sweet gesture but you were terrified for your life— what a nightmare. He would never leave you out of his sight. You were aware of how bad of a person he was. The harsh reality, I suppose.

Breathe in, breathe out.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

[yourejinx]

Undeniable Bonds

Azriel x F. Reader

Warnings: angst, as per usual. SPOILERS for other SJM series. Mentions of blood, descriptions of injuries, mentions of death, feelings. Not proof read.

Author’s note: Merry Christmas everyone! It took me MONTHS but is finally here, hope you like it. Sorry for making you wait for so long, life has been nothing short of chaotic. I'd like to thank @crazylokonugget , I read your comment. It was the rush of inspiration I needed to get back into writing 🫶🏻

CHAPTER SIX 

The moon was shining big and bright above the night sky in the city, there was music being played by the river despite the chilling winds of the winter and laughter filled the air around The Rainbow. It all seemed so livid, so peaceful and merry in contrast with the emotional turmoil brewing in your insides. 

You were feeling everything at once, every single thing you had tried to keep concealed for centuries now was ready to combust. You felt confused, and angry, resentful, wary…and underneath it all naively hopeful. It would be a lie to say you had successfully gotten rid of your feelings towards Azriel, if anything all the awful things you've done to each other hurted all the more because of that. He was a friend once, and a good one. Gentle, caring, protective, used to actually enjoy the other's presence, go on walks during the nights when the world felt too heavy, just silently supporting each other. Shared laughs at stupid jokes played at Cass and Rhys, sneaking around while in other courts just for the fun of it, knowing no one would ever find you. You were a team. Until one day you weren’t, he just decided it wasn’t worthy and that was it.  

How were you supposed to open up to this person, when he hadn’t even seen the worst in you and deemed you unworthy? How could you ever trust him again? Yet, here you were, walking side by side next to the Sidra like the old times. You could punch yourself in the face just for considering this, every anxious trait screamed at you to leave, you didn’t owe him a single thing, didn’t have to explain anything. So why did you keep walking alongside him? 

“So…uhm,” He started, nervously scratching at his nape. Trying. He was trying to be open, didn’t hold up that mask of coldness to conceal his emotions, not once. “You and Lucien..?”

“None of your business.” you snapped out of instinct. 

He avoided looking directly at you, focusing on some distant light across the bridge. 

You let out a deep breath, this wasn’t going to work. 

“Just talk to him.” Amren’s voice rang in your head. Try. You had to try, you didn’t have to let him know much just…let the conversation flow, right?

“It was a long time ago, even before Amarantha..” you started, casting a sidelong glance at him.

He turned to you, features soft under the moonlight. Gods, he was unfairly beautiful when he wasn’t an ass. You fixed your sight on the river, if only to keep on track. “Nothing really happened, we were young and drunk at one of Tamlin’s masquerades, we made out and that was it.” 

He nodded slowly and cleared his throat, “And now?”

“Is this what you really want to talk about? He’s my friend, not that I owe you any explanation. Or is this your way to ask if Elain is available now?”

You couldn’t help it, the audacity of this male prying into your private life as if he hadn’t been lusting after Lucien’s mate of all people. Hypocrite doesn’t begin to cut it. 

“I don’t care about Elain, I care about you.” 

You wanted to laugh. “Since when? If I recall correctly you despised me until a week ago, you were either insulting me or just blatantly ignoring me in favor of her, or anyone else really. Then all goes to hell and suddenly I’m worth living for?!” 

He grimaced, “You– you remember that?”

You sighed tiredly and sat down on a bench overlooking the Sidra. “Yes, I remember. I just…I don’t understand you.” 

Azriel just stood there beside you, shifting his weight uncomfortably, not being quite sure what to do.  When he didn’t move or say anything you continued, “I want to believe you,” you swallowed around a lump “but do you hear how it sounds? After all we’ve been through. I trusted you and you threw that in my face, how do you expect me to believe that you care about me?” 

This wasn’t going as he was hoping for, but at least it was something. You were speaking to him more than two sentences, which was a lot more than he deserved to be honest. You could yell at him, curse him, punch him in the face if you wished and he would take it. No complaints. Anything if it meant you’d show him how you truly felt, he wasn’t sure he could endure your silence again, knowing how much he had hurt you. He needed you to let it all out, so he could do something to fix it. 

“I don’t expect you to believe me right away, of course not. I know that I have to earn your forgiveness and one day if I’m one lucky bastard I might earn your trust back once more. But I also know that even when I try to make things right you may not forgive me at all, and I’ll accept that too. Honestly? I just want to know how you feel with all that has happened. The only thing that matters now is you.”

You let out a shaky breath, turning away from him. “I don't know what I'm supposed to feel, everything is a mess.” 

He moved then, crouching in front of you and grasping both your hands on his own, making you look at him. The earnest way he was looking at you, the desperate feeling swimming in his eyes that traveled all the way through the bond. It made you gasp, with all that’s been going on you forgot to put a shield up. Now you could feel him, all of him, which meant  he could feel you. 

“I have no damn right to demand such mercy from you, but if for a single moment you find in your heart a spec of doubt, a small sign of will to forgive this coward for wronging you so unfairly, I just want you to know how sorry I am, for everything. I regret it all, I wish I could take it all back. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, until the day I part from this earth I will fight for you.” 

You were quite sure your bottom lip was trembling as much as his hands were, trying miserably to contain the unwelcomed tears pooling in your eyes. Those were such nice words, the silly part of you that always longed for his recognition wanted so desperately to believe, but there were still too many unresolved things, too many questions still running frantically through your head. And one recurrent thought…

“Did I really have to die for you to notice?”  Your words hung heavy in the air, with a mix of accusation and vulnerability.

Azriel, gaze intense and haunted, looked as if you had just punched a hole through his chest. In that moment, the shadows that bound him seemed to soften, and he confessed the truth that had long eluded you both. It wasn't the brush with death that made him take notice; it was the fear of losing you that shattered the carefully constructed barriers around his heart.

"No, it's not about noticing, it's about realizing what it means to lose you," he admitted, his voice a low, gravelly murmur. Azriel's jaw tightened, a small sign that betrayed the internal struggle within him. "It's not so simple. The thought of a world without your laughter, your presence....Losing you was the worst of my nightmares coming true. I've always cared, but I let my past dictate my actions, and I was cruel to you because I couldn't bear the thought of history repeating itself. But I was wrong, and I almost lost you because of it."

“What do you mean?”

You had unconsciously leaned in closer to him and he swallowed audibly at the intensity in your eyes —obsidian black that sometimes showed swirls of violet and blue. Like lightning striking the midnight sky. They were a rare sight, a beautiful one, he knew that only happened when you felt too much. The telltale sign of the emotions you were so desperately trying to hold back from reaching him.  

“I will tell you everything you want to know, in time. I will lay my heart down for you to step on if you wish. But I believe that is a conversation on its own, I wish to explain everything to you and I don’t think I can do it tonight.” He looked almost pleading. “There’s nothing that can excuse the way I treated you, I’ve been a coward, and an asshole and you have every damn right to be angry with me, to hate me. That much I understand. I just hope you’d be willing to listen when the time’s right.” 

You supposed it was fair. It still made you uneasy and you pulled back a little, ignoring the hurt that flashed through his eyes. Given how strained your relationship was, you guessed it was normal he was still doubtful about sharing too much too soon. You weren’t that willing to particularly share much of yourself yet, if ever. 

Gods, you wished you could rage about everything that has happened, and hated the way his words had soothe an ache in your heart you were making an effort not to acknowledge. 

Time. It would take time to heal, and trust, and effort on both sides to make this work. Whatever this white flag he had weaved tonight meant. You knew it was the right call to make, for the sake of everyone, to try and make amends. That didn’t mean it was going to be easy, some things were too deeply engraved in your heart to let go. 

Did it make you a weak, spineless female to want to give in to him? What was the cost of it? 

“Alright,” you muttered, standing to your feet, Azriel followed you. “If I agree to do this, I’ll need you to be patient. I’m not ready yet to let you in, I still have my doubts about this. I think you understand why. But I want to try to be friends again, that’s as much as I can offer you right now.” 

Friends. That was a lot more than he had dared to ask for, even if in his heart he desired more. It wasn’t about him, nor his desires, it was about you and giving you what you need. So if what you needed from him was friendship, he’ll take it. Make the most of it. 

Azriel nodded, something sparkling to life in his eyes that wasn’t there before. The bond thrummed quietly with emotion. Hope. 

“One step at a time?” you offered, extending your hand to him. 

“One step at a time.” He repeated, taking your hand. 

It was awkward but welcomed, the feeling of something settling within your chest. The mating bond had been neglected for so long that the weight of it felt weird now, as if a missing limb had been spoken into existence. Azriel seemed to notice too, absentmindedly reaching his hand up to rub at his chest. 

You tried not to shudder when he gently tugged at it and opened your mouth to suggest keeping the ends closed for the time being. Unless until you were more comfortable with each other. It was way too intimate and overwhelming otherwise, and that you were not ready for yet. 

“Maybe we should–” you stopped as you felt something warm and thick dripping to your lips. Pressing two fingers to the spot and watching them stained red. Blood. 

Azriel quickly caught up to the movement, body stilling in alert.

“What's wrong?” he asked, stepping closer. 

“I don't know,” A strong pang shot too fast to your head making you gasp and causing you to fall forwards. Azriel’s arms instantly wrapped around your shoulders, holding you to him. His shadows were in a frenzy, surrounding you both while he inspected your face for any signs of injury. 

“Y/N? Talk to me, where does it hurt?” He sounded agitated. 

You could hear Azriel’s voice being muffled and muffled by the second, could feel his warmth and the firm press of his body against yours, but everything was quickly becoming a blurry image. Like some distant dream everything started to fade from sight, the whole scenery changing, twisting and re-adapting. 

Velaris had been replaced for a cold, dark room, the air thick and musty. The sound of crashing waves filling the otherwise silent space. Rusty chains hung wicked and ancient from the stone walls, an iron coffin sitting vacant across from you, open and expectantly waiting for its occupier. You couldn’t move a single muscle, only stare through eyes that were not yours, scent with a foreign nose, the smell of fear, and blood, and immense sadness. 

You blinked twice — or rather this…person whose mind seemed blending with yours did— and gazed down to gauntlet-covered hands. Iron, yet again. There was a slight tremble to this other body, a female’s body, from pain so deep from within her guts and the fire blazing underneath, it rose and rose and rose, flaring until it was pushed down and forced to remain still.

She looked up again, to the lone white wolf lying a few feet away, already watching her. The animal tilted his head to the side as if in contemplation and blinked three times. 

“Are you okay?”

—----------------------------------------------

Sound was the first thing to return to you, hurried, hissing voices coming from somewhere around you. 

“I swear on the Cauldron I'll have their heads on spikes as ornamentations for your throne.”  A low, deep growl laced with intent. You recognized Azriel’s baritone voice from beside you. 

Violet and blue-ish gray greeted you when you finally opened your eyes, immediately recognizing the Town’s House living room.

What in hell had that been? It occurred to you that you had dreamed about her before, the female, recognized the same lemon verbena and crackling embers scent from previous dreams, although never catching a full look at her. Who was she? Was she in danger? Was this a warning? 

Frowning you propped up to your elbows to sit, back resting against the couch’s armrest. Feyre gave you a soft smile, sitting down next to your legs. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked, worry staining her features. 

“I'm fine, just a little dizzy.” You craned your neck back to look at the male standing behind the couch, one of his shadows slipping away to caress your cheek before returning to his master. “What happened?” 

Azriel's honey gaze settled upon you, shoulders sagging a bit from relief at the sight of you awake. “You were unconscious for a few minutes, I flew us back here and called Rhys. I didn't know what to do. Are you sure you're ok?” 

“Yeah, I'm alright. Thank you.” You tried to smile softly but barely managed to slightly lift the corners of your mouth. He nodded, unconvinced. After a moment to cringe, you added, “Whose head are we having on spikes?” 

Silence. 

Rhys cleared his throat. “Your brother’s and Damien’s.” Suddenly the room’s temperature dropped. Feyre shifted uncomfortably in her place. We hadn’t openly discussed the situation yet. “If this is a side effect of whatever they did to you, we need to find the–” 

“It 's not.” you interrupted him. 

It wasn't like you didn't want to find them and finish what had started two centuries ago. But it was your fight, you didn't wish to trouble your family with it. Didn't want Rhys particularly involved out of anyone, he was the reason they came back. Albeit unbeknownst to him. They still lusted after his crown, his throne, they wanted vengeance. Your blood as well as his. 

Azriel stared at you, contemplative. You could sense he wanted to ask more but was debating whether it was pushing a boundary or not. It was all new to the two of you, too fresh to know what was appropriate. 

Fidgeting with your entwined fingers on your lap, you decided to offer some truth. Even if they didn't believe you, even if it sounded crazy. 

“This has happened to me my whole life. It doesn't always knock me unconscious, most of the time it's just dreams.” 

Rhys frowned but it was Azriel who asked, “What sort of dreams are those?” 

“I can't fully explain because most of the time I don't understand them. But it is almost like my mind goes somewhere else, like I share one consciousness with another. A female. Though I haven’t figured that out until tonight. I've seen scraps of her mind, and the places She's been, but I don't know her face.” 

You could practically see the engines in Feyre’s mind working.  She had stayed silent for most of the interaction, paying careful attention to each word. 

“And what happened in this…dream? What did you see?” asked Rhys this time. 

“Not much, she seemed to be in some sort of mausoleum? It was barely lit, few candles here and there. It had to be some isolated place next to the sea, I could hear waves crashing against rock. The air was thick and musty. There was a wolf with her.” 

“Do you think it is possible you're dreaming about someone in the Summer Court?” Azriel caught your attention once more. 

“I don't know, could be. But it feels off. There were chains on the walls…and an iron coffin. But she was alive, I think. Maybe she’s a prisoner?” You turned to Feyre then. “You’ve been there when stealing the Book of Breathings, does this sound familiar? Some place you may have seen?” 

She shook her head. “No it doesn't. That doesn't mean it does not exist, I didn't get to see much of the Summer Court. But why would Tarquin keep an iron coffin?” 

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don't know, it doesn't make sense. Why would I be dreaming of a female in the Summer Court? How do I relate to that?” 

“What if they're not dreams, per say, but visions? Like Elain's…” she pursed her lips, deep in thought. 

Azriel tensed beside me, I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. I hadn't seen Elain around that much after Solstice night, coming to think of it. Does he think it's my fault? 

“Hadn't thought of it that way. Honestly, I read too much, since I was a kid. I was convinced my mind made it all up until it started to happen during day time. But either way, I don't think this is the case. I mean, nothing that I dreamt of has happened, and if it did, it didn't involve any of us. So we have no way of knowing about it.” 

“It still bugs me. There has to be some explanation to it. It clearly affects you, I don't believe it's normal that these dreams cause you nosebleeds and make you pass out. What if it gets worse?” Rhys pointed out. 

“Beats me. I know as much as you do.” 

“We’ll have to look into it. Whatever this is, and whoever that person may be. Is there something else you remember?” Azriel's brows were pulled together tightly, but his eyes were gentle when he settled them upon me. 

“I just…one time I recall feeling her, here in Velaris. I — she— saw you two.” You pointed to your high lord and lady. Rhys stilled. “But it was like she was falling from the sky, or rather falling through. You were pregnant with little Nyx.” You told Feyre and turned your head to look at Azriel. “I don't remember much about it. I must have passed out, you found me in the hallway shortly after.” 

Azriel gave a tense nod. “I remember you lying face down on the top of the stairs, your books thrown all over the place. Your nose wasn't bleeding though, I thought you were drunk.” he said apologetically.  

I shrugged. “You didn't know, and I couldn't explain either.” 

“If this is a person that's been here without us knowing, then we must start to investigate immediately.” Rhys cut in. 

“But where do we start?” I asked. 

“I'll see if the wards of Velaris had been tampered with, for starters. Maybe we can find some imprint of magic. In the meantime I’d say you learn about bonds and connections, how they work, check your mental shields. If you have access to her mind then there's a possibility she has access to yours, there has to be a link somewhere.” 

“Alright, I'll start to look into it right away. There has to be something in the library about mental connections.” 

“You should rest now.” Azriel placed a hand on my shoulder. “I'll help with the research tomorrow. We can go to the library after training the Valkyries. If that's okay with you.” 

You nodded and relaxed a little. Ignoring the warmth that his touch had spread across your back. 

“Yeah, it's fine. Tomorrow then.” 

—---------------------------------------------------

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[jamdoughnutmagician]

Cherry on Top (Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader) Fluff

When the pining between Robin and the cute customer who comes into Scoops Ahoy becomes too much for Steve to bear, he hatches as plan to give them then gentle push they both so desperately need.

Word Count:1,184

Masterlist // Robin Buckley Masterlist

It was just a summer job Robin thought to herself. It's not forever.

Even so, working at Scoops Ahoy wasn't all that bad, sure the uniforms were silly, and slightly scratchy against her skin, the pay wasn't all that much, and sometimes customers were straight up rude. However, despite its ever-stacking list of cons, there were a few pros; such as staff discounts on ice cream, and working alongside Steve Harrington, who had surprisingly grown up a lot since high-school. Proving that he actually wasn't all that bad like she had been led to believe.

However Robin found herself unable to tear her eyes away from the cute customer who came in every Saturday, just to order the same thing she orders every time. One single scoop of chocolate, rainbow sprinkles with a cherry on top. 

Robin watched on from behind the crack in the serving window as the girl's eyes sparkled, and her smile beamed. No doubt laughing at Steve's attempt at flirtatious banter. 

Not that she’d ever tell him, but Robin was jealous of Steve. Jealous of the way the girl's eyes lit up when she looked at him, jealous of the way she laughed at every single one of his stupid jokes. How Steve seemed so effortlessly cool and calm, almost suave, around the girl that made Robin’s heart race annoyed her to no end.

“Hey Steve!” you cheer as you skip into Scoops ahoy on a hot Saturday afternoon. It was oddly quiet in the parlour today, save for a few people sitting in the booths

“Hey y/n! Same as usual?” he chirps back with his boyish smile.

“You know it!”

“Alright then, one scoop of chocolate, rainbow sprinkles and a cherry coming right up.” he smiles as he twirls his ice-cream scooper around with his fingers.

“So..Uh.. Steve, i-is Robin here today?” you ask him, your voice stuttering slightly with nerves.

“When are you just going to bite the bullet and ask her out already?” 

“Keep your voice down will ‘ya, Harrington, jeez” you whisper-shout as you shush him, looking around to see if anyone heard him.

“What? So you don’t want to take her out on a date and make out with her then?” he teases, as he hands you your ice-cream.

“I didn’t say that…” you drawl out, as you hand Steve over your money.

“Look, you think she’s cute, she thinks you’re cute, I don’t know what more you’re waiting for?” He softly laughs with a shake of his head.

“Wait…Robin thinks I’m cute? Did she say something to you?” you splutter at this revelation.

“Just leave it with me, alright? Think of me as your wing-man.” Steve says all too confidently. 

You eye him slightly, but ultimately decide that trusting him would be in your best interest, especially if it scored you a date with his best friend.

“I’ve got two tickets to see Footloose, c’mon Rob, don’t you wanna go with me..” Steve pleads down the phone.

Robin rolled her eyes at her friend. She could just see his floppy hair and dumb puppy-dog face in her mind, begging her to go with him.

“You’re actually asking me to go with you to see a musical? Steve, I thought you hated musicals? You told me you hated how unrealistic it was, and that ‘nobody bursts into song like that in real life’.” Robin teases with her impression of Steve. 

“Yeah, I know but you love ‘em, besides I’ve heard good things about this one.”

Robin rolled her eyes at her friend, but she’d already made her mind up that she was going to go, Steve was her best friend, and she’d do anything to make him happy. 

“Alright, what time is the movie?”

Robin Strolled up to the movie theatre, where Steve was already waiting for her outside.

“Hey! Robin!” Steve waves. “Over here!”

But as Robin got closer she could see the cute girl from the ice cream parlour.

“Hey look who I bumped into.” Steve smirked.

“Hi, Robin!” you wave cheerfully.

“Hey, yourself!” Robin replies, trying her best to play it cool. “So, what are you here to see?” 

“Oh I was just about to buy myself some tickets to see Footloose. Truth be told I have a soft spot for musicals.” you explain.

“Hey, why don’t you just take my ticket?” Steve offers, raising his eyebrows at you. This was his plan all along. He’d told you as much, explaining what was going to happen before he even phoned Robin. He was going to bail at the last minute to give you two some time alone together. It’s not that he didn’t love spending time with Robin, but the way she pined over you was beginning to become unbearable, so Steve took it upon himself, as your wing-man and Robin’s best friend to give you both the push you needed.

Robin looked at her friend like he had two heads. What was he doing leaving her alone with the girl she had been crushing on so badly that she’d barely spoken two whole sentences to her? 

“Oh Steve, you don’t have to do that!” you worry, before he assures that it’s no worries at all. 

“No, honestly, I insist. Dustin called me up earlier, said he needs me to pick him and the rest of the boys up from their little nerd club.”

“Well if you're absolutely sure” you say as you take the ticket Steve offers you.

“You girls go ahead and have fun without me!” He smiles triumphantly. 

Steve goes up to give Robin a hug before leaving, pulling her close enough to whisper in her ear.

“Enjoy your date, Dingus.” Steve whispers, pulling away from the hug with an affectionate smile.

You and Robin both sit through the movie, a shared bag of hot buttery popcorn sits between you both. Your hands grazing against each other a few times as you both reach for the bag at the same time, with a couple of mumbled apologies whispered to each other in between the music coming from the big screen.

The film draws to a close and you both exit the theatre with match smiles on your faces.

“I-I had a great time hanging out with you today.” Robin mumbles, her eyes looking down at the floor, because if she dared to look you in the eyes she would not be able to speak to you without fumbling over her words.

You tilt her chin up under your fingers, wanting to look at her properly.

You lean in close to her before pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, your lips brushing against her flushed features.

“I had a great time too!” you smile. “Perhaps we can do this again sometime, like a proper date?”

Robin beams at your suggestion, elated that this had gone well enough that you were willing to go on another date with her.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’d like that a lot, actually.”

Robin was going to have to give Steve the biggest thank you hug ever when she saw him next. 

@sunnythespookyghost @penguinsandpotterheads @xxhellfirebunnyxx @onegirlmanytales @mrsjellymunson @reidsbtch

[ashrodisiac]

okay i genuinely forgot if i sent an ask to you already or i was just hallucinating, either way hi!!!

i LOVE the way you write kuni SO much!!! i also saw that requests are open too! shit, i probably should've double checked your pinned/rules before requesting...

but since im here now, i just wanted to know and request IF you can do where wanderer becomes genuinely annoyed at our own self hate/self loathing, insecurities n' all that and fucks us stupid with genuine hate — like he doesn't understand why we're so damn insecure of ourselves when he literally breathes us like air, more lovestruck than us ourselves but he'd rather listen to childe's shenanigans than admit that

this dynamic basically!!!

JUST PITCHING IN AN IDEA FOR YOU! i love your work so much! <3

Scaramouche x Reader

• WARNING: SMUT

ashrodisiac's note:

When i tell you i started tumbling and giggling in my room when i read this req you better believe it😭

...

He just didn't get it.

Why was it that you always cringed when you glanced at your own reflection in the mirror? It got on his nerves so fucking much.

At times he caught you hugging your knees to your chest, sobbing. It was just so ridiculous, crying about it. It seemed so childish.

Why would you ever hate yourself so much?

Sure, his comforting words helped, but fucking the self-hate out of you seemed like a much better way for you and him.

Rage fuels him as he remembers every time you doubt yourself. He thrusts harder, your hips bruised by his strong grip, clenching at your reddish flesh. Your choked yelps and moans sounded so much better than your whining, crying about those stupid insecurities of yourself.

"Who the fuck do you think you are to degrade yourself in that way?" He growls. "You're my lover. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Am I not good enough, is that it? You're supposed to be happy to even be touched by me, let alone fucked stupid like this. Ungrateful slut."

His pride and degrading words make you clench around his cock even more, if it was even possible at how tight you already were. He let out a groan, one of his hands leaving your waist to put his hand on top of yours.

"F-fuck, don't do that-!"

You could barely hear him anymore. You could see rainbow patterns swimming around the dark when you closed your eyes.

You let out a sob, what was meant to be a sentence all scrambled up and resulting in a broken and pathetic whine.

Pearly white cum leaked out of your abused hole as he slowed down, and eventually ended with one last thrust before he pulled out and kissed your nape.

"Don't you ever tell me that you hate yourself, got it? That's bullshit."

He said it in a soft tone despite his choice of words, lying next to you as you catch your breath. You could only look at his genuine expression of love as you nodded, your heart pace still rapid.

All messed up like this, hair dishevelled, your lips red and a tad bit more swollen than usual, he couldn't understand what you meant about hating yourself.

How could you, when in his eyes, you were perfect?