#which is...... in hell. but hey. he's fine.

[keferon]

Chapter 3 of Blurr’s storyline in Mecha AU!

Previous chapter

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers.

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Under the cut⤵️

——————————————————

It's Swindle's birthday.

He thinks it is.

He's pretty sure.

Since he was taken into the program, it's always hard to tell. It's like time flows differently here. He had a calendar, but Brawl put it somewhere a while ago and then forgot where it was. And they're not allowed to have phones yet. Though Swindle assumes Onslaught managed to steal one from someone anyway.

Shit. Where's the calendar?

Swindle remembers the date, but can't remember the month.

There's a strange static tingling sensation in the back of his head. If he turns his head too fast, it'll grow into an unpleasant pricking pain.

The last time in the lab was disgusting.

He can't remember what month it is. He's not even sure why it bothers him so much. Not that birthdays mean anything within the walls of the program.

He stops in the middle of the living room and looks around with a meticulous eye. He's already checked the beds, desk, and nightstands...hah.

“Hey have any of you seen my calendar?”

Vortex, sitting on top of the bunk bed shakes the ash off his cigarette right down into Blast Off's lap.

“Nope.”

“TEX YOU'RE LITTERING ON MY BED.”

“I could have ..torn it up” offers Brawl from across the room.

Swindle turns on his heels and angrily rests his arms at his sides.

“You tore it?”

“I might have,” Brawl scratches the back of his head.

Swindle pinches the bridge of his nose

That's fine. Not that he cares that much. Not that any celebration at all would save the crappy day.

He has some new “experimental” medical procedure scheduled for later, which generally means suffering. Or if he's lucky, some critter will attack the city and instead of squirming on the slab, he'll have to go cuddle with huge nasty beasts. Which is slightly better than the actual procedures. He'd like that to happen. If only his head would also stop buzzing....

“Happy birthday to me” Swindle thinks, sticking his Mech hand under the plates of a particularly ugly monster and pulling something disgustingly oozing green blood out of there. He can see the faces of the random gawkers who didn't have time to evacuate. Ooh, some of them got that nasty stuff on their faces. Swindle has no time to feel sorry for them.

The monster did attack, but it's entirely possible that this monster ended the last meager supply of luck Swindle had. Because somewhere. Something. In his head begins to hurt again and the world in front of his eyes begins to slowly blur and..

ahh FUCK….

The monster grabs him knocks him to the ground and Swindle can literally feel in his bones that something's wrong, but the data from his Mech doesn't give him any useful information. Which isn't that uncommon. These things are glitchy as hell and aren't designed to recognize anything but the most basic popular malfunctions.

The word “error” shines mockingly in his face. Blurring in his eyes and reflecting in red on his uniform.

Error, error, what the hell is this error. He needs to know what's wrong so he doesn't accidentally kill himself, but all this bucket offers him is oops. You're in trouble teeheee~

He can hear the sound of Blast Off's giant cannon in the distance. And the loud rumble where Vortex and Onslaught are trying to get out of the ring of monsters.

His Mech is unresponsive. His damn machine refuses to move and Swindle isn't quite sure if it's the Mech that's the problem, because his head feels like a piece of raw rotten meat and maybe the error meant that what's broken is him.

The monster leans over him, trying to rip off whatever it can rip off and thank god this thing apparently isn't smart enough to realize that the Mech is controlled from the head because it's aiming straight for his chest.

He needs to get out. If he can't get this thing to move, he needs to get the fuck out of it before the alien gets him.

He manages to open the emergency hatch and quietly slip out and ohhhh the world is spinning, this is not bloody good.

He manages to take a few steps before a loud B A N G comes from somewhere above and IS THAT A TRAIN???? Who in their right mind would think of using a fucking train as a throwing weapon???? Is that Brawl? It's got to be Brawl. Oh, Swindle is so gonna kill him.

Because (sadly) in addition to the monster, the train and Swindle, there's also physics involved in this circus.

So while the monster is effectively brought to rest and knocked sideways with a hole in it’s head, the train stops its forward motion and starts its downward motion.

Right onto Swindle's head.

He just has time to think that dying from a train falling out of the sky is a pretty creative death. His legs are shaking, his head is buzzing and he only manages to take half a sluggish step in an attempt to avoid the inevitable when a loud “MOVE” comes to his ears and something yanks him to the side.

The tug sends fire down his spine and head. The ensuing landing reverberates with pain in his shoulder and sides. He barely has time to process the first two sensations until a moment later he hears a rumble so deafening that he thinks his eardrums are about to burst.

Swindle props himself up on his elbows and hisses in pain as the movement causes the back of his head to sting.

“Ah I'll fuckin' kill him...”

A voice comes above him

“Ouw dude. You okay?”

There's.. Some teenager hovering over him. And behind him is lying...the wrecked train...right where Swindle himself was standing a second ago.

The strange teen frowns worriedly and pulls Swindle upright and drags him somewhere else

“Come on, it's best not to be in the open during monster attacks”

“Ah” thinks Swindle ”right. Without Mech you're a pathetic tiny piece of chop begging to be stomped on by Brawl.”

He tries to focus on balance so he doesn't hang too much on this kid.

They find the nearest unlocked door, which turns out to be the entrance to an underground bar.

“So” says the stranger, letting go of Swindle and shaking the dust off his hair ” You're a pilot! That's so cool, but you're kinda small for a pilot.”

Swindle sighs sullenly.

“I'll let you have that one comment about my height because you helped me, but next time you're dead.”

“Helped? I saved your ass.”

“Helped a lot” says Swindle grudgingly. “Thanks.”

The teen laughs and climbs into the bar. It's a mess everywhere, people clearly evacuated in a hurry and threw everything in haste.

“What's your name? Oh, or, wait. Do you guys use code names? I've heard pilots call each other by call signs, but half the time those call signs sound so dumb, I don't see how they can respond to that.”

He waits for the kid to cut off his flow of words to take a breath. Man, what a chatty boy.

“You can call me Swindle.”

“Kay” the kid pulls out a couple glasses ”I'm Blurr. Would you like something Swindle? I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at mixing cocktails.”

Swindle looks around the room suspiciously. The bar, even though it's underground, looks pretty good. Too good, in fact. The place is clearly not for the poor.

He walks over to the bar and climbs onto a bar stool. There's no one else in here but them, but the electricity is on so he doesn't doubt for a second that they're being filmed by a security camera right now. Maybe a few even.

Blurr throws him an expectant look.

Swindle pretends to go through his pockets. As if there could be money in them out of nowhere. Then he makes a comically confused face and spreads his hands.

“Oh, no, I think I left my millions at home. What's the cheapest thing you have?”

Blurr snorts.

“Ice is free.”

“I'll take the ice then” nods Swindle.

There is a loud rumbling sound above them. It must be Vortex having fun again bouncing on the aliens that have fallen to the ground, crushing their heads.

Swindle is just. He takes off his helmet, takes a glass of ice and presses it to his head enjoying the way the nasty buzzing recedes.

Blurr waits for the rumbling to recede before speaking again.

“But really. You're a pilot but...uh. Are you even old enough to drink?”

Swindle sends him his best grumpy look. It's not exactly a joke about his height, but it's damn close.

“Are you old enough to pour?”

“Sure,” says Blurr too fast for it to be true. If Swindle had to guess, he'd say the guy in front of him is no older than seventeen. The tattered jeans and the T-shirt with the F1 logo printed on it definitely don't help. And, hey, those headphones look very expensive. So do the sneakers. Kid's clearly from a wealthy family.

Blurr pulls out a bottle of syrup from somewhere and pours it straight into his mouth. Doesn't miss, which is amusing. Doesn't wince, which is frankly impressive. Swindle feels the unbearable sweetness just looking at him.

It suddenly hits him

“Hey, do you have a phone?”

“Sure,” Blurr pours himself more syrup. Swindle twitches.

“What's the day today?”

Blurr's mouth is full of an unimaginable amount of sugar, so he just pulls out his phone and turns its screen toward Swindle and oh...oh. He was wrong about the date. And the month, too. It's not his birthday. His birthday was a week ago...

Does that mean he must be nineteen now? Yeah, that makes him nineteen.

Blurr takes the phone back and slips it into his pocket.

“Your face looks funny.”

“I just realized it's my birthday today,” smiles Swindle.

“Oooooooohh~~~” rejoices Blurr ”Congratulations! It's kind of poetic that you almost died just today. Can you imagine how funny the numbers on your tombstone would have looked.”

Swindle chokes on air.

“That's certainly a very appropriate comment, thank you...”

“Sorry haha said without thinking.” Blurr reaches under the counter again and pulls out a bottle from there “Hey, they have more syrups!”

There's another loud rumble from upstairs.

Blurr presses his head into his shoulders and stares up at the ceiling as if hoping to see something through it.

Swindle puts his elbows and head on the tabletop

“Don't worry, it's just Brawl.”

Blurr doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling

“ You can tell that by the sound of falling concrete?”

Swindle lazily dangles his feet. The chair is high and even the toes of his shoes don't reach the floor.

“Brawl is the loudest. And the heaviest, too. He's always crashing into everything, throwing things and breaking things too. You can hear him a mile away.”

He pauses to listen

“And that kch-ooooooooomm is Blast Off's cannon. It's some super rare experimentally advanced one, so it sounds like something out of a space movie. He couldn't stop bragging about it for half a year when he got it.”

Blurr chuckles and leans his elbows on the counter, relaxing.

“ And this...uh...what's this?”

“That's Vortex, he's our local lunatic. Best not to listen too much to what he does, it's almost always disgusting in ways you would never even consider.”

Blurr makes a disgruntled face and is silent for a couple minutes.

“It's weird hearing you call them by their names. I mean, I kind of always knew Mechs were run by people but you guys are never seen, so most of the time it's just.. Huge robots and huge monsters. You know what I mean. I was actually surprised when I saw you get out of that Mech.”

Swindle just nods. Because, what else is there to add.

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”.

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his glum mood

“Oh, hey. If it's no secret, why did you go into piloting in the first place?”

Because he had no choice? He can't answer that, that information isn't for civilians.

Because he didn't know what he was getting into until it was too late? That's not vague enough either.

Because he was up to his neck in debt and barely into college before a smiling man showed up on his doorstep and offered him good money if he agreed to a couple tests...?

“I had to do it for the people.” Swindle decides to repeat a line of propaganda.

“Ohhhh.... That's...a good reason. The monsters are disgusting, of course. But the reason is cool.”

Swindle just. Holds his glass of melting ice, listens to Blurr's mutterings, and enjoys the peace. This random teenager is not his superior or colleague and has nothing to do with the organization at all. Swindle doesn't have to remember to salute or follow orders or fear being reported to his superiors.

He can just. Be.

Just him and his free ice and his saved for free life.

That's. Sweet.

Blurr's drinking syrup again.

...and a little disgusting.

—————————-

Brawl jumps out of bed, hits his head on a shelf hanging on the wall and drops everything on it onto Blast Off's head

“Swindle!!!” yells Brawl.

“Why are these books sticky???” shrieks Blast Off.

“You don't wanna know~” giggles Vortex.

Swindle sighs.

“You're alive!!!” ignores Blast Off Brawl's complaints. And a second later runs up and pulls Swindle off the floor in a crushing bear hug.

Behind them, Blast Off, with his face wrinkled in disgust, gathers all the dropped books back onto the shelf.

Swindle wheezes pathetically and slaps Brawl's arm with his palm, either to reciprocate the gesture or to beg for mercy

“Br...khaaaaah...Brawl I can't breathh.”

“OH. I'm uh. Here. Wait.”

Brawl puts him back on the floor and runs back to the shelf.

Onslaught, who has peeked into the room, puts a hand on Swindle's shoulder

“You've been gone a long time. Boss said you tried to escape.”

His tone isn't judgmental. And not pressuring. Not even questioning, but Swindle knows Onslaught wants more information. Swindle clutches a piece of napkin with a phone number in his pocket and smiles weakly.

“I've found a...friend? I think?”

Onslaught nods. In a manner that only he knows how to do. Not giving an opinion, not encouraging or condemning. Just taking in the information. Swindle admires him for that.

Behind them, Brawl pulls some piece of paper out from under the books that have just been put away and drops them again

“FUCK!” yells Blast Off. Vortex just starts hooting like a hyena.

“Hey Swindle I found the calendar!” yells Brawl waving the paper.

Swindle frowns in surprise.

“It's a different calendar...”

“I found you a new one.” nods Brawl.

“...Why...is it...it's torn in half?”

“It had stupid flowers drawn on it, so I ripped them off. And I accidentally ripped off more than I needed.”

“Ah,” says Swindle, clutching the calendar, ”That's...Thanks. I forgive you for losing the previous one.”

Behind them, Blast Off is trying to strangle Vortex with a jacket.

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

Blurr waves his arms happily like a hyperactive windmill.

“Swindle!!!”

Swindle smiles and adjusts his glasses

“Your party can be seen from across city.”

“I know~~” primps Blurr “Are you hungry? There was a snack table around here somewhere.”

“I didn't bring any money.” lies Swindle.

“Hey man, it's a party. Help yourself, it's free.”

“Оh.” Swindle's mood instantly brightens. “All right, then.”

“You look terrible” Blurr decides to share.

Swindle, busy shoveling food into his pockets, nods.

“I've had a rough week. Actually, it'd be cool if you didn't tell anyone you saw me here. I'm kind of not supposed to be here.”

He doesn't elaborate.

Blurr is a civilian. In his mind, a rough week is rude people or an exam or bad weather. Swindle's bad week is strap marks on his wrists and double vision. It's nausea from injections and sleepless nights because Vortex won't stop screaming in his sleep.

Blurr doesn't know that. With him, Swindle can pretend to be somewhat normal.

-----------

“Heeeeey“ says Blurr ‘I haven't seen you in a long time~"

“That” thinks Swindle ”is a pretty standard phrase for both of them.

Blurr looks older. Taller too. He was taller than Swindle before, but now that difference is starting to look almost comical. He's also flaunting a cast on his arm.

“Did you get hurt?”

“Didn't make a turn at training” waves Blurr off “It's no big deal. Wanna go find something to eat?”

Blurr is always trying to feed him, Swindle notices over time. Offers him drinks or snacks or whatever.

“ I like your uh..cap?”

“I got a promotion” Swindle smiles proudly “Me and the guys were made a special group...actually you're not allowed to know more than that, so you'll have to take my word for it when I say we are officially cool.”

He purposely adjusts his cap by the brim so Blurr can get a good look at it.

Blurr makes a delighted sound. Something between a “wow” and a giggle. He generally makes a lot of sounds all the time. Tapping his fingers on every hard surface, stomping in place like he's always late for something, laughing, whistling, clicking his tongue. A human orchestra.

__________

Onslaught sits down next to Swindle and clutches his hands in his lap in front of him. This makes the bed legs squeak pitifully. Onslaught has grown surprisingly large. He can almost rival Brawl in height already. Most people find that intimidating, but Swindle just thinks Onslaught is like a wall. A big, solid concrete wall that's so good to hide behind.

“Be careful with what you tell this guy.”

“Don't worry” says Swindle ”He's not the type of friend you tell secrets to. He's just a fun dude who's great to hang out with.”

Onslaught hums.

“And who feeds you for free.”

“If that's how you're trying to ask me to share, you're not doing a very good job.”

Vortex snaps his fingers as he walks past them

“Hey Swindler, the lab is closed for today. It's your day off.”

“Wha...”

Onslaught tilts his head.

“Vortex. What did you do?”

“I spat in their dna sample vault” proudly proclaims Vortex “and didn't tell them exactly where.”

-----———————-

Blurr frowns.

“Hey...are you okay?”

“No” thinks Swindle.

“My friend died” he says instead.

He's not okay. He feels like an animal caught in a beartrap, trying to chew off its own paw to get free.

Except the trap is closed around Swindle's head and it's not a body part he can afford to lose.

There's been a lot of talk. Even more rumors. Swindle listened but tried not to believe.

And then one of pilots, Shockwave… was taken to the lab and brought back a different damn man and it felt like Swindle had the rug pulled out from under his feet with hot coals underneath.

Because Swindle's boss, with his stupid, rehearsed smile, started writing reports about how “human personality flaws are something that can be fixed. That challenging behavior is something that can be repaired with tools.

Blurr freezes.

“Who?”

“Vortex.”

Because of course it's Vortex. Talented but difficult to handle. Powerful but uncontrollable.

They wanted a pilot who would be a beast on the battlefield and a loyal dog on base. And who else would be a more ideal test subject than him?

Vortex was being very rude that day, even by Vortex standards. Yelling and swearing and throwing things around. Kept saying that no shitty lab could make him “a fucking puppet.”

Scratching the stitches on his head until he started leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He went on a mission.

And never came back.

The reports said it was all the monsters' fault. That Vortex was unstable. That the accident had nothing to do with the new technology. But it was nevertheless suspended.

Swindle is both bitter and amused by this. Vortex would eat the same monsters for breakfast any other day. The bastard was unkillable.

“Oh my god” says Blurr “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

He says something else. Probably comforting. About how Vortex died protecting people, maybe. About Vortex being a hero.

“Vortex,” thinks Swindle, ”loved life. He loved adrenaline and danger and pain and thrill and fear, but he never wanted to die. They did something to him. Something that made him go over the edge.”

Vortex got his head in the trap and ripped it off to escape it.

Swindle knows him and the others are next. And knows that no one but themselves can help them.

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

Blast Off seems...very quiet. He could never stop complaining about Vortex before. Yelling about the garbage. Resenting the unmade bed and the cigarette ashes.

Vortex's bed remains unmade.

Blast Off regularly cleans everything up, but never wipes away the little circles of ash from the places where Vortex used to put out cigarettes on the furniture.

Onslaught puts his hand on Swindle's shoulder and squeezes. Not hard. Just enough for Swindle to register the gesture as important.

Standing nearby, Blast Off lights a cigarette and leans on Onslaught.

“Ons told me about your plan. I want to join in.”

“What kind of plan? Can I get involved?” inquires Brawl.

Onslaught sighs.

“Repeat after me - I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“Good job” nods Onslaught “From now on, every time they ask you any - listen. Any! Question about us, you will answer them with this phrase.”

“Got it,” grins Brawl.

Swindle smiles.

“Gentlemen, it's time to violate all that is written, and rewrite all that is violated.”

__________________

Blurr lazily takes his eyes off the phone. He's wearing a racing suit and tons of hairspray. He's shiny and gleaming like a fine collectible figurine that should be on the shelf of an expensive exhibit. He's also bored.

“Sorry buddy, the interview is long over, if you have any questions you'll have to pay for the session.”

Swindle smiles.

“How about one tiny little question?”

Blurr makes funny big eyes.

“SWINDLE!!! I haven't seen you in a thousand years! You...oh I didn't recognize you haha sorry. Nice coat. You quit being a pilot?”

Swindle proudly adjusts his glasses. He's wearing a brand-new, ironed shirt that's exactly his size. Nice neat tie, expensive coat. Swindle isn't surprised Blurr didn't recognize him immediately. Sometimes he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize himself. After all those years of wearing the pilot's uniform, he felt almost attached to it. And yet here he is.

“You could say I moved.” he winks snarkily, “Up. All the Mechs you see on the streets now are my Mechs~”

Blurr completely forgets about his phone.

“REALLY?? Oh man congrats to you!”

“Thanks” nods Swindle ”You want something to drink? I'm buying.”

———————-

Onslaught adjusts his tie. It's still, years later, a little strange to see him in a uniform instead of a pilot's suit.

“You do realize it's going to be hard to find a person like that, right? We need someone famous enough to be effective and dumb enough to want to save mankind instead of sunbathing on a yacht.”

Swindle adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair.

Someone outgoing so they can quickly befriend all the right people. Handsome enough to have their face printed on a poster. Smart just enough not to say too much. And not associated with Mecha program so they can't be accused of trying to get promoted through their acquaintances.

Someone who already has everything but still willing to put themselves at risk for the cause.

“You know, I think I have a possible candidate.”

[meracyn]

༘♡⋆ hopeless

༉ just blue lock boys having a crush on you!

starring yoichi isagi, meguru bachira, seishiro nagi & reo mikage (all separate)! x reader

warnings cursing, implied fem! reader in reo’s part

notes so i forgot how to write..

YOICHI ISAGI

isagi was like a literal simp.

finding any excuse to talk to you— no matter how ridiculous it seemed, isagi would make it work somehow.

yeah. even if it meant purposely accidentally bumping into you.

“oh sh—i’m so sorry! are you okay? i didn’t mean to bump into you,” he stammered, his face already flushed red at the contact of your shoulders brushing. he offered a water bottle, snack— hell, even doing your homework as an apology.

on the other hand, you only stood there watching in amusement. “yoichi, i’m fine, don’t worry.” you said with a smile, trying to reassure him.

and ever since that day, isagi would suddenly be around you constantly— from simple greetings to walking you to all of your classes (it’s fine if he was a few minutes late, what’s the big deal?)— all while still coming up with the most random conversation starters that left you questioning what really was going on through his head.

“bread or rice for breakfast? bread? awesome, me too! so, what are your plans for this weekend?”

it eventually becomes a cycle that leads to his friends finding out about it, too. while some mostly stay back and watch him stumble over his words with a red face whenever they spot him talking to you, others do the opposite. like bachira, for example, who teases him like hell for it.

“hey, what’s with that smile?”

at his friends’ sudden question, isagi immediately felt his cheeks heat up, trying to think of a believable excuse to escape bachira’s teasing. only to fail and say the first thing that came to his mind, “n-nothing.”

“ohhhh,” bachira replied, drawing out the sound dramatically. “i see, you’re thinking about them, aren’t you?”

isagi stammered out a response in denial, but deep down, knew it was true.

later that night as he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind was full of thoughts of you. the way your smile made him feel like he was above clouds or whenever you looked at him had his heart skipping a beat.

he groaned softly, turning over to bury his face in his pillow with a pink face. “i’m screwed.” he mumbled to himself, feeling his heart pounding loudly in his chest. despite the swirl of emotions that fogged up his mind, a shy smile tugged at his lips.

isagi couldn’t wait to see you tomorrow.

MEGURU BACHIRA

“meguru, i can’t move if you’re hanging off of my back.”

for the past ten minutes or possibly more, meguru suddenly jumped onto you from behind, his arms and legs locked around you, tightening every time you tried to move.

the hallways were empty except for the both of you, which unfortunately meant for the brown-haired male to keep clinging onto you like a koala, no matter how much you complained and turned to pry him off.

he leaned down to rub his cheek affectionately against yours for a moment. “then don’t.”

“you can’t just cling to me all day,”

“why not? you’re not hard to carry.”

you scoffed, placing your hands on his knees to push them down so he would let go, but to no avail. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you huffed, giving up your attempts to free yourself.

meguru grinned, finally letting go before wrapping an arm around your waist, lifting you off of the ground with ease to hold you bridal style. “you’re really light for someone so short.”

“what the fu— put me down!”

his bright yellow eyes bore into yours. “nope. this is way better!” he replied with a hum, abruptly turning on his heel as he spun you around, his laughter echoing through the hallways.

you felt your cheeks redden at his daring hold on your body, frantically looking around to make sure no one was nearby. gosh, it would be so embarrassing if anyone caught you both in this situation right now.

“why are you even doing this?” you asked, avoiding to look into those warm, honey-colored eyes of his.

meguru paused. “huh..i guess i just like being around you.” he said softly, his tone steering away from playful to sincere.

“oh.” you felt your cheeks redden further, lifting your head once more to face him. “that’s..cute, but—”

“wait,” he interrupted, his eyes widening as if he realized something. “do i..” meguru’s cheeks turned a tad pink as he kept gazing into your eyes intensely, causing you to get nervous.

then he burst out laughing. “ohh, i get it now.”

you raised an eyebrow, still confused by what he was referring to. “of what?”

he grinned at you again, holding you tightly in his arms as he leaned in closer, his face mere inches away from yours. “i think i really like you. a lot.”

SEISHIRO NAGI

you lost.

again.

gripping the controller in frustration, you cursed under your breath, “dammit, why is it so hard?”

you were currently over at nagi’s place, chilling in his room while laying on his bed. your eyes focused on the large television displaying the ‘game over’ screen, then back at nagi, who was sprawled out on his gaming chair and engrossed in his phone, the sounds of gunshots and taps of his fingers being heard.

“sei,” you called out, sitting up as you went over to him, nudging his shoulder gently with the palm of your hand.

no answer.

clicking your tongue in annoyance, you decided to move so you would sit in front of him, noticing how his dark eyes were laser-focused on his phone. you reached out, booping his nose.

nagi flinched slightly, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. “what was that for?”

“to get your attention.”

“huh? what do you need?” he asked, casually pressing the pause button on his phone as if he wasn’t currently in the middle of finishing the last boss.

“i need help on this level,” you grabbed the controller, holding it out for him to see the screen shown on tv.

“oh. sure.”

after a while, you waved him goodbye, going off to walk home. nagi waved back, shutting the door once you were out of sight. he sat down on the couch, phone in hand to resume his match. reo, who was sitting on the other end of the furniture and had heard everything from upstairs, decided to try to do the same.

“can you pause your game again and get me a drink?”

nagi hummed, not bothering to look up from his phone. “get it yourself.” he replied with a deadpanned expression.

“but you did it for y/n—”

“that was different.”

reo’s jaw dropped, a vein mark popping on his forehead. “why them and not me!?”

nagi only shrugged. “maybe i just like them more than you.”

his comment had reo sulking that night.

REO MIKAGE

it was white day— a month after valentine’s, where boys were the ones giving gifts to the girls instead; whether for friendship, admiration, or simply reciprocating the gifts they had received from them.

although it was more like another normal day for you. when valentine’s day rolled around, you had given reo a box of chocolates for the sole purpose of being a great friend, not thinking much of it back then.

what you didn’t know, was that he decided to give you something back.

except ten times more.

as you walked into the classroom, your eyes widened at the sight of your assigned desk being stacked with all sorts of gifts— heart-shaped chocolate boxes, small bags of cookies, flowers, and a small teddy bear in a suit with a white tag above its chest.

oh, don’t forget a single pink card on top of everything.

a group of your classmates surrounded your desk, murmuring who was your admirer to have gifted you so much. how did you manage to get the most gifts on white day out of everyone else in the room?

from what they knew, you didn’t give any guy a whole stack of gifts. so what gives?

meanwhile for you, it didn’t take you that long to figure out who your—possible— secret admirer was.

who else other than reo mikage himself?

once classes were over, you spotted him standing nearby, leaning against the wall while trying to look nonchalant. you headed towards him, carrying the mountain of gifts in your arms.

“hey reo! look at what i got,” you said with a grin, holding everything up for him to see. “i wonder who got me all this. i want to thank them personally, you know?”

reo silently beamed, thinking he pulled it off perfectly— especially you not knowing who it was. he cleared his throat, trying to maintain his innocent act. “oh yeah, i wonder.”

your eyes narrowed as you looked at him, picking up the teddy bear. “it’s obviously you, it literally has your name on it.”

crap. reo’s eyes widened, his face flushing pink in embarrassment. how did he fail to notice that!? “oh—uh..” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck while avoiding eye contact.

“..it’s fine, thank you, reo.” you said softly with a smile.

he looked up, his heart racing in his chest once he noticed that sweet smile of yours that never failed to leave him a flustered mess each time.

“really—”

“just don’t send an entire store of chocolates next time.”

[stalkedbytrains]

[Behold! More! As requested by a lovely person on my kofi]

It had been a weird week if you're being perfectly honest.

Your usual bread guy was held hostage by one of the new weird upstart villain that has been bucking the trend of signing up with the Villain Union, so you didn't have the good sourdough for a few days. Which would have been fine if you had the time to make it yourself but you haven't had the time. And honestly your sourdough isn't nearly as good as Jesse's.

Fearsome Night has been coming in as something of a weird regular. He's... not subtle.

And you don't want to cast aspersions on anyone, especially a super villain. But like... he came in whatever he considers his non-villain persona to scout the place, and it was clear that he was a super villain.

He might as well have had the newspaper with the eyes cut out for as subtle as he was being in your shop.

Still ordered the Equinox and chips.

And, again, he was extremely not subtle, since someone in front of him ordered the Fearsome Night with "extra fearsome" he let out a loud whoop that he utterly failed as disguising as a cough.

If you didn't know any better, you'd suspect that he was waiting to see if Equinox would come in and order from you.

He didn't, at least not while Fearsome was lurking around.

Adrienne Moore did come in and get a double Vestige on rye though. The entire shop went eerily silent as you made the sandwich. She was intimidating as hell. And it was interesting to see Fearsome make eye contact and not react or do anything to notorious rule breaking hero.

You could have sworn there was some recognition there.

No one in the shop dare commented on her ordering the sandwich named after her infamous villain mother.

At least Adrienne tipped super well. Always did.

Eventually Fearsome Night didn't come in for a few days, and you were honestly a little grateful. This weird energy he was bringing in was not making for a healthy working environment and you don't know how chummy you want to get with a super villain.

Finally at the end of the week, you were close to finishing up for the night. You needed to bag up the last of the day old bread to take to the local homeless shelter, mop, and then lock up.

The bell over the door rang and in walked Equinox of all people.

You tried to bite your tongue, you really did, but you hadn't managed to fully leave 'customer service' mode yet.

"Hey there, haven't seen you in a little bit. You good?"

You shouldn't have asked. You shouldn't have opened that door.

Very rarely will someone see the opening created by small talk and just answer honestly. It's always off-putting.

"Yeah, been busy. You know, the job," they say as they gesture to their elaborate costume.

You nod politely. "Usual?" you ask to try and shift the subject but somehow you know that it isn't going to work.

"Yeah, Fearsome Night on sourdough."

You grimace. "Out of sourdough this week. Sorry. My guy got held hostage by Siege Works or whatever that new guy was that took over the library. He's taking some time off to recover and stuff."

"Damn that villain! He can't stop until he ruins everything he touches!"

"Sorry. I can do any of the other usual breads."

"Fine, can I get it with rye then?"

"Sure," you mutter and try to distract yourself with the sandwich crafting.

"Yeah I was going to come in," Equinox says to fill the dead air, "but I saw Fearsome Night was here. So I thought it would be awkward if I ordered his sandwich in front of him."

"Yeah... he's been something of a regular this week. He's ordered like 12 sandwiches from me this week."

"Really? Do I want to ask?"

You plead, beg, silently, that they don't ask what you know they are going to ask.

"What sandwich does he get?"

You look up from the mostly completed sandwich. You hope that your look is conveying enough sad pleading to get them to relent the question. You don't want to be in the middle of this. It's so weird. It's awkward.

But they don't relent.

"He's a vegetarian apparently so he gets and Equinox. Anyways! Here's your," you say. As you hand them the sandwich and start to say the name outloud when who should bust in, causing the bell over your door to dance and happy little jingle.

"Fearsome Night," all three of you say at the same time. No one else adds the "on rye" but you do.

"I KNEW IT!" he shouts.

"Don't read into this! They make a great sandwich!" Equinox says, trying to defend themself.

"Yes I do," you say at the same time that Fearsome Night says, "Yes they do!"

"YOU LIKE ME! I mean... YOU LIKE MY SANDWICH!" Fearsome Night declares.

"We're closing soon. I have to mop," you say, but no one is paying attention.

"That doesn't mean anything! Don't you dare think any more of this!" Equinox counters.

"It's going to be eight dollars. Here's your chips."

"HA! YOU EVEN LIKE BARBECUE CHIPS! THE MOST SUPERIOR CHIP FLAVOR!"

"What does that even have to do with anything?" Equinox counters.

"It doesn't," you mutter, even though neither of them is paying attention to you.

"IT HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH!"

"TO DO WITH WHAT?"

"I KNEW THERE WAS SOME SEXY KIND OF SPARK HERE! WHEN WE FOUGHT BY THE LIGHT HOUSE LAST YEAR!"

"WHY DO YOU ALWAYS SHOUT?"

"STOP DEFLECTING THE QUESTION!"

"Mister Fearsome Night," you try to interject and get nowhere.

"You are insufferable!" Equinox says.

"You like it!" Fearsome Night counters.

"GUYS!" you finally shout. They turn to you as if they just now realized that you were still there. "I'm closing shop now. Here's your Equinox and chips. Here's your Fearsome Night and chips. This is on the house. Now please leave."

"I DID NOT ORDER A SANDWICH!"

"I KNOW!" you shout back. "But now you don't have an excuse to not sit and eat together. There's a nice secluded little park a block north. Now I really have to mop so I can go home and shower!"

"OH! Uh... thank you," Fearsome Night said awkwardly.

Equinox took their own sandwich with some reluctance and a little shame, like they had just gotten caught doing something embarrassing.

"Thank you," they muttered.

"Yes, yes, you're welcome, now please, please leave. And I swear if you ever do this kind of thing in my shop again I will ban both of you from ever returning. And you may be thinking 'oh this cute and very talented sandwich maker can't ban a super villain and super hero from their shop who do they think they are to challenge us?' I want to remind you that I have a standing order for Mariana and their whole entourage. And Dayline comes in every Sunday for a coffee and a breakfast sandwich. If you want me telling my best costumers why they might not be getting their stuff, try me."

Suddenly both supers were very humble.

"Thank you," they both say quietly.

"Go. Eat. I'll see you later," you say as you push them fully out the door.

The bell jingles as the door settles into it's closed position.

You turn the lock, and flip the open sign to closed. The last thing you hear is, "I guess we should go to the park?"

"I HEAR IT IS LOVELY THIS TIME OF NIGHT!"

You own a sandwich shop in the heart of a superhero city. After gaining customers by making sandwiches based on heroes, you decided to try making some based on villains. Today, a villain stopped to review theirs.

[xannsin]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐃 ᯓ★ 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐙

précis: you and nicholas fell apart, the two of you simply wanted different things. months later, you’re sure about wanting one thing in common.

a/n: hey! i’m back, i’m very sorry for my absence, i do have a ton of responsibilities and unfortunately took a lengthy break but i’m working on a ton of writes for all of you!

warning: +18, minors dni, penetrative sex, creampie, sexual praise, overstimulation, unprotected sex

enjoy!

The relationship between you and Nicholas is strained.

When you were together in your early twenties, it felt like everything was possible. Until it wasn’t. You wanted the whole picture: house, rings, maybe a kid someday. Nicholas? He wanted out. Out of your tiny apartment. Out of your careful plans. Out into the world where he could be whoever the hell he wanted. And he got it. That bastard climbed the ladder so fast it was dizzying.

The breakup wasn’t even dramatic. Just him sitting at the edge of the bed, running his stupid hands through his stupid messy hair, sighing like it physically hurt him to talk.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he’d said, his voice low but clear, like it had already been rehearsed.

You stared at him, dumbfounded, because what the actual fuck. “Do what?”

“Play house.” He looked up then, those half-lidded brown eyes unreadable, his jaw locked tight. “You deserve someone who… I don’t know. Gives a shit about marriage and brunch and—whatever. That’s not me.”

And that was it. He left you like that—angry, confused, and clutching onto your shared dreams like a sucker.

Months later, you were doing fine. Or fine enough. Until the call came. A sleek-sounding assistant from some hotel agency left a voicemail, sweetly confirming your reservation for the weekend. Which was hilarious because you didn’t make one.

Except you had. Well, Nicholas had. Back when you were together. It was supposed to be this grand romantic getaway, but he’d apparently forgotten to cancel it. You debated ignoring it. But curiosity is a real bitch, and the idea of lounging in a fancy-ass suite alone? Tempting.

You didn’t expect to see him there. Which is why, when the elevator doors opened to reveal Nicholas Chavez—tan skin, broad everything, and wearing a wrinkled t-shirt like it was designer—you screamed. Not in terror, but pure, unfiltered what the fuck.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you yelled, wide-eyed, already regretting every life choice that led you to this moment.

He stared at you like you were the weird one, his eyebrows lifting just a fraction. “What am I doing here? This was my plan!” His voice was still annoyingly calm, with that slight Cuban lilt that came out when he was caught off guard.

“Your plan?” You jabbed a finger at his chest—hard. “Your dumbass forgot to cancel this, so they called me!”

He blinked, slowly, because of course he was the kind of guy who could take a verbal beatdown without flinching. “Fuck,” he muttered finally, rubbing the back of his neck.

And just like that, the tension cracked. You both laughed, loud and stupid, because it was ridiculous. You hated him, but also… you didn’t. Because beneath the stoic, sarcastic exterior was the same guy who once wanted to take you here. Maybe just for a moment, you could remember that. Or maybe you’d just spend the weekend screaming at each other. Either way, it was already too late to back out.

The laughter died off, but the awkwardness lingered like a bad smell. You couldn’t quite figure out what to do next. Storm past him? Push him out of the elevator? Or just turn back and get the hell out of there? Nicholas stood there, leaning casually against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest like he had all the time in the world. His half-lidded eyes scanned your face—always calculating, always trying to figure out what move you were going to make before you even knew yourself.

“So,” he said finally, voice low and calm, “you gonna stand there all day, or are you coming in?”

You blinked. “Coming in? Are you serious right now?”

He shrugged, that lazy smirk creeping onto his annoyingly perfect face. “Look, I’m not going to fight you for the room. I forgot to cancel it. That’s on me. But if you’re here, you might as well enjoy it.”

“What a gentleman,” you muttered, brushing past him into the suite.

The place was ridiculous. Plush carpets, floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city that looked like it belonged in a movie. And the bed? Huge. Like, offensively huge. Of course Nicholas would have booked a place like this. He always had a knack for things that looked effortless but cost a fortune.

“You seriously came here alone?” you asked, turning to face him.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter now, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone. He wasn’t looking at you, just scrolling through his screen like he couldn’t be bothered. “Yeah. Why?”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Because this was supposed to be a romantic trip. What were you gonna do? Have a candlelit dinner for one?”

He finally looked up, his expression flat. “I don’t see the point in wasting a good reservation just because we broke up.”

“Jesus, Nick.” You shook your head, dropping your bag onto the nearest chair. “You’re unreal.”

“Thanks,” he said, deadpan, before tossing his phone onto the counter and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Want one?”

You glared at him. “What I want is to not be stuck in a luxury hotel suite with my ex-boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well,” he cracked the cap off his water and took a swig, “life’s full of disappointments.”

You hated him. You really did. Or at least you wanted to. But then he went and did that thing—where his voice softened, just a fraction, and his eyes, half-lidded and calm, gave you that unreadable look that always made your stomach flip.

“Look,” he said, leaning against the counter, his tone quieter now. “We can fight all weekend if you want. Or we can just… not. Your call.”

You wanted to fight. God, you wanted to yell at him, to drag up every shitty thing he ever did, every late-night argument, every time he’d brushed you off with that maddening stoicism. But standing there, looking at him—broad shoulders, messy hair, tired eyes—you realized you didn’t have the energy to.

“Fine,” you muttered. “Truce.”

“Truce,” he echoed, raising his water bottle in a mock toast.

The first few hours were… weird. You avoided each other, mostly. You hung out in the living room while he stayed in the bedroom, and for a while, it almost felt like you weren’t sharing the space at all. But, of course, that didn’t last.

It was late—almost midnight—when you wandered into the kitchen for a snack and found Nicholas sitting at the counter, scrolling through his phone again. He looked up when you walked in, his brown eyes sharp even in the low light.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours.

You shrugged, opening the fridge. “Too quiet.”

He chuckled softly—just a huff of air through his nose. “Ironic, coming from you.”

“Shut up,” you shot back, grabbing a bottle of wine and holding it up. “Want some?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Sure. Why not.”

You didn’t expect it, but the two of you ended up sitting on the floor of the suite, leaning against the couch, passing the bottle back and forth like a couple of college kids. And for the first time in months, it didn’t feel strained. It felt… easy.

“Do you ever think about it?” you asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

He turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. “Think about what?”

“Us,” you said, waving the bottle vaguely. “What happened. Why it went to shit.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the floor, his jaw tightening. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think about it.”

“And?”

He let out a long breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “And… I don’t know. Maybe I fucked up. Or maybe we just wanted different things.”

You frowned, staring at him. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”

He met your gaze then, his brown eyes soft but guarded. “What do you want me to say? That I regret it? That I wish I’d stayed? I don’t know if I do. But I know I didn’t handle it right. And I know I hurt you. For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t much. But it was something. And for now, that was enough.

The next few days unfolded like an awkward dance neither of you really wanted to be a part of, but here you were, stuck in this stupid hotel suite, both pretending it wasn’t all too familiar. The truce held, but it was fragile. There was an air of tension that lingered in every room, especially when the two of you were alone. Every glance was a little too long, every word a little too sharp, and yet neither of you could walk away from it. There was an undeniable pull, like the universe was mocking you for still being tied to each other in some way.

One night, after an uncomfortable dinner in the hotel’s overpriced restaurant, you found yourself back in the suite. Nicholas was sprawled on the couch, his arms thrown behind his head, casually flipping through channels like you didn’t just have a conversation that felt like two strangers trying to fill the empty space between them. You, on the other hand, were too wound up, pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city lights twinkled below, casting a faint glow that made the whole room feel surreal.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the carpet if you keep pacing like that,” Nicholas muttered, not even looking at you. His voice was as disinterested as ever, but you could hear that hint of amusement in his tone, like he enjoyed getting under your skin.

You shot him a glance, your eyes narrowing. “I’m thinking, alright? Can’t I think without you making sarcastic comments?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, the sarcasm oozing from every word. “I’ll stop. Wouldn’t want to ruin your moment of clarity.”

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to snap back. Instead, you took a deep breath, walking to the other side of the room and standing still for a second. “Why are you here?” You asked it before you could stop yourself, and the question hung in the air, heavier than it should have been.

Nicholas didn’t flinch, just let out a sigh, his eyes flicking to you briefly. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just stared at you like he was sizing you up. His lips twisted into that usual smirk, but this time it wasn’t quite as mocking. There was something else in it—something real, maybe even vulnerable, but he hid it behind his usual stoic expression.

“Why do you think I’m here?” His voice was quieter now, not the usual sarcasm laced with a challenge.

Your stomach flipped. You hated how easily he could do that to you—make you feel like he was reading you from the inside out, even when he said nothing. “I don’t know,” you muttered, crossing your arms, trying to look indifferent. “I guess I thought you didn’t give a shit about me anymore.”

Nicholas sat up then, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the TV. “I never said that.” His voice was low, serious, and when you looked at him again, he was closer. Closer than before, but it wasn’t an invitation to fight. It was something else.

“Look, we… we fucked this up, okay?” he said, his eyes softening just enough that you could see the regret hidden under that layer of arrogance. “I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but I didn’t want to lose you, either.”

You swallowed hard, unable to speak, because for all his quiet moments and sarcastic jabs, that admission hit you harder than you wanted it to. “Don’t,” you whispered, the words coming out hoarse. “Just don’t… make it worse.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and you both stood there, inches apart but still worlds away. Then, in a rare moment of self-awareness, Nicholas moved slowly, his hand reaching out as if to make sure you wouldn’t pull away.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t some sudden, passionate moment where everything exploded. No, it was slow, careful, as if he was waiting for you to pull back, to shove him away, to tell him to fuck off. But you didn’t. Instead, you stood there, letting his lips press softly against yours, a little tentative at first. His lips were warm, surprisingly soft, and for a second, you forgot how much you hated him. Or maybe you didn’t hate him. Maybe, in that moment, it was just two people who couldn’t figure it out, but still needed each other.

When he pulled away, it was barely an inch, his breath mingling with yours. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the softness of his hand still resting on your arm, the warmth of his body so close.

“Still mad at me?” he asked quietly, his voice rougher now, like the moment had undone something in him.

You didn’t answer immediately, just looked at him—his messy brown hair falling over his forehead, his sharp jawline, and those goddamn brown eyes that always seemed to see right through you. You wanted to hate him for making it so hard, for fucking up so many times. But you couldn’t. Not when he was here, looking at you like maybe he was finally seeing you for the first time in a long time.

“No,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But you’re still a fucking asshole.”

He smirked at that, and it felt like a little bit of the tension between you two broke, just enough to let you both breathe. “I’ll take it,” he said, leaning in again, but this time it was different. There was no hesitation. No more apologies. It was just you and him, in this stupid hotel room, with no answers but maybe something else—something neither of you could deny anymore.

And when his lips met yours again, it wasn’t slow this time. It wasn’t careful. It was urgent, real, like neither of you knew what the hell you were doing but were too tired to care anymore.

“This okay?” He murmured against your lips, his hands gently tangling in your hair. “Mhm,” You whine quietly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he picked you up. He carried you to that behemoth of a bed and set you down before getting on top of you, careful not to smush you. “You sure you’re okay with this.” He says, asking, but confirming with statement at the same time. You nod in response, and he gently continues, grabbing your jaw, moving your head upwards to pepper kisses on your neck.

Your body instinctively responds, your arms wrapping around him as you let out the softest, faintest moans at the sensations on your neck. You hear that familiar unzip of his jeans that you so desperately missed. You work at taking off yours, shimmying slightly out of your tight jeans before discarding the fabric onto the floor. You do the same with your blouse.

You watch as Nicholas was only in boxers, having already taken off his jeans and shirt. You could see the tent in his boxers, basically throbbing for escape from the tight fabric. You gently reach out, your hand hesitant, but it settled on the thick bulge. Nicholas’ body went taut, his hands steadying himself on both sides of your head. “You okay?” You whispered, your hands gently working his bulge. He just nodded quickly before swallowing thickly, his eyes closing as your hand went lower, cupping his clothed sac. He exhaled softly, his bottom lip twitching slightly with the effort of holding back a soft moan.

Your hand moved up, falling onto the hem of his boxers. You looked up at him, silently asking for permission. He opened his eyes before looking down at you through half-lidded eyes before nodding a soft yes.

You gently peel his boxers down, his dick jumping out and immediately slapping against your bare thigh. He looked down in between your bodies, and so did you. You hadn’t seen his bare body in a while. His length was really girthy, at least 10 inches long, veiny, mushroom-tipped, throbbing, and aching to be inside of you. His tip wept pre-cum, it needed its release. Well — he did.

He moved your panties to the side of your thigh with his thumb, looking down at your bare, leaking pussy. He looked up at you before slowly grinning, “You’re beautiful.” You shake your head modestly, “Sure.” He rolls his eyes at your humility, “Just accept the damn compliment.”

His thumb gently touched your little bundle of nerves, gently rubbing it in slow circled, eliciting a small whimper from you. He knew how to make you twitch. Whimper. Whine. Shake. Cum. Your legs trembled as he worked your clit with his fingers, his middle finger finding your neglected, small hole. “Feels like it shrunk. You haven’t had sex in a while, have you?”

“Not since you, no.” You muttered through strained breaths, and pleasured winces. “Mm.” He hummed softly, adding more pressure, but not enough. On purpose. You were whimpering needily, your whines being more pleading than they needed to. He spoke after a moment, “Don’t worry, gonna get what you want.”

“Eventually.”

You frowned slightly, but you were too breathless to protest. You whined as he pulled his hand away, but he tutted softly. “Patience, pretty girl.”

He reached down, his hand finding his throbbing cock. He pulled you closer to him with his other hand, comfortably settling himself in between your legs. “Comfy?” He asked, and you nodded in response. He slowly stroked his tip along your slit, eliciting a gasp from you. He did that almost-grin, half-lidded eye combination that made your stomach flutter. He kept his dick positioned correctly with his right hand, and he was gently holding you down, steadying you, with his left. “I’m gonna start slow.” He muttered breathily.

“Okay,” You gasped, mentally preparing yourself for the stretch you’re about to feel. You hadn’t felt him inside of you for months, so this was probably going to hurt a bi—

“Shit…”

You winced quietly as you felt his thick tip slide inside of your pussy, the sensation overwhelming. You writhed under him, as if trying to get away, but you really didn’t want to get away. It was just hard to take it. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here,” Nicholas lulled, continuing to slowly ease himself inside of your pussy. His goal was to be buried to the hilt inside of you, and he was going to achieve that.

He began thrusting into you with more confidence, yet purposefully making them sloppy and slightly uncoordinated. His sole objective was making you feel good. And he was doing a damn good job at it. You were practically drooling at this point, his shaft sliding in and out of your wet cunt at an almost rapid pace. He was forcing himself to fit. He hit spots that were making you cry out in pleasure, gasping for air. “Shh, I got you, I got you,” He whispered in between gasps, his balls smacking against your ass with every thrust he made.

The bed didn’t creak once, you’ll give it that. It was a sturdy ass bed. Nicholas was pounding into you by now, working on hitting those spots that made you feel good. Your tiny hole stretches so beautifully as his thick shaft slides in and out, the small, subtle bulge just below your stomach showing just how far he reaches inside of you. His fingers traced circles over your hip, his own hips working on pumping his dick in and out of you. But they were already stuttering.

The room filled with the smell of sex, skin smacking against skin, and the sheets shifting under weight.

You missed those small, subtle whimpers Nicholas made when he was close. They felt like memories you never had the opportunity to make reality more than just a few times. You’re glad you’re reliving it — not just the sex, but what lies deeper. The pure intimacy behind it, what sex really expresses between you both. Being loved again feels… good. If not, great.

Maybe great is an understatement too.

Nicholas huffs heavily as he feels your pussy gripping his cock like a vice, contracting rapidly. He slows down because he can sense the impending release on not just him, but you too. You gasped heavily as you felt your release. Nicholas’ hips stuttered, your legs trembled, and there it was.

Nicholas’ hot seed poured inside of you, not letting any go to waste. He weakly pulled out, sighing softly. He collapsed next to you on the bed, the two of you panting. He slung his arm around your waist before pulling you closer, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Y’know,” You start, still catching your breath, “I’m glad this happened. Us reuniting unexpectedly all because you forgot to cancel a ticket.”

“Huh? Oh. No, I knew you’d come.” Nicholas said after a beat flatly, completely serious.

Well then.

[darnell-la]

A little dark but how about Logan slipping the reader an aphrodisiac into their drink or something to make her have sex with him. And since he is their drive home, she becomes desperate and needy for a release from him despite not understanding what’s happening to her is she’s usually kinda innocent

note: no one will understand how much I need this.

———

“L-Logan, how long until we’re at the school?” Y/n asked as the throbbing between her legs ached more. She’s never been the type to get turned on. She usually has to build up to it, but tonight, she couldn’t help but squirm in her seat.

“Maybe a half an hour,” Logan lied, knowing they were just down the road. “Fuck,” Y/n said under her breath as she shifted in her seat, embarrassed about how much she wanted to touch herself for at least a second. She needed it to go away.

“Why, what’s up, bub?” Logan asked, acting innocent until he didn’t have to. “Nothing, just- Maybe step on it,” y/n said, meaning for him to drive faster.

“Well, it ain’t hard to see something's going on with you. Just tell me, bub,” Logan said, but y/n couldn’t. “It’s fine-“ y/n tried lying again, but Logan wanted her to tell him what he knew was happening.

“Y/n, don’t start with this secretive shit, okay? I wanna know what’s up with you,” Logan spoke as he placed a hand on her thigh, wanting her to feel more throbbing through her body.

Logan could smell her hours ago. He always smelled her, but after he slipped those pills into her, he could barely shop being around her. He neared to rip her to shreds a while ago, but he held himself together. He needed her to start.

“Look, don’t start laughing when I tell you this — I-I don’t know what’s up, but I’m, like, really fucking throbbing right now. Like, I feel like I’ve been edging myself for hours,”

Y/n and Logan had been friends for a while, so the way she spoke about her situation didn’t phase him. She was just afraid the situation would throw him off.

“What do you mean? Like, you’re honey or something?” Logan asked, feeling his cock pulse through his jeans. He knew he was close to starting what he’d been wanting to do for years.

“Yeah, I guess — Look, just get home. I can’t hold my shit,” y/n said as she crossed her legs. “You need help?” Logan asked, making y/n remember his hand was still over her thigh. She felt a small grip, which made her heart drop.

“N-No, no, I’m good,” y/n said, slowly moving Logan’s hand away because his touch was too much for her. She’s never actually thought of him in any sexual way, but now, she’s realizing the effect he could have on her.

“Why? We’re friends here, and I don’t want you pissy the whole ride back,” Logan said, but y/n shook her head and pushed at his hand that tried to make it back to her thigh.

“I’m okay, I swear — J-Just get us home,” Logan sighed with an eye roll as he pulled off to the side of the dark road. “Logan, please don’t fuck around,” y/n whined as Logan put the car in park and hopped out.

“Logan, what is this about,” y/n leaned back in her seat as Logan walked around the car. The more time that passed, the worse she felt. She felt like she was going to explode at any small rub on her bud.

“We’re far out, and you don’t look like you’re gonna make it,” Logan said as he opened the door. Before y/n could speak, the man pulled under out of the car and pushed her upper body down on her seat.

“Logan, what the hell!” Y/n shouted as she leaned up, not comprehending what was happening until Logan forced her leggings down. “Hey!” Y/n tried turning around, but Logan pushed her back down on the seat.

“Oh, relax — We’re adults — It’s not like you haven’t done this before,” Logan said as he tugged in his own clothes. “Yeah, but not outside. In the dark! In public!” Y/n said but stopped moving.

The woman allowed Logan to roam her body. If he was willing to do this, why would she stop him?

“Just stay still, bub. I’ll help you,” Logan said before he pushed at her cunt. Y/n was surprised at how fast he was willing to help her and be with her. If he wanted, he could’ve rubbed her while he continued driving.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Logan pinned y/n down as she twitched and squirmed. “Fuck,” the young lady moaned low as she tried her best to take him in with ease.

One hand of Logan’s gripped y/n’s ass to spread. He noticed he was probably too big for y/n to handle, but he didn’t go through all of this for nothing.

“Sssh, bub, you’ll be fine — Just fine,” Logan whispered as he continued pushing into her until he was fully in. “Oh, yeah — That’s it,” the man basically growled before he began moving his hips.

“Oh my god,” Y/n said low as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Too fucking big, Logan- Fuck,” y/n tried moving to make this more comfortable, but the way he dug into her, forced her to understand that her body had minimal time left until she bursts.

“Y/n, stay still, before I get unfriendly,” Logan threatened as he slowly thrusted, trying to enjoy how tight she was gripping him. “L-Lo, give me a second — Please,” y/n asked, he ignored.

Y/n tried again to lean up, which only angered Logan. He tried being nice, but y/n has always been hard-headed.

“Look,” Logan gripped a hand full of the young lady's hair and tugged back. “You’re either gonna take it nice and easy, or I’ll rip that orgasm out of you,” Logan threatened again.

“Maybe if you fucking wait, I could-“ Before she could finish, Logan slapped his hand over her mouth and began pounding into her. Y/n’s muffled cries were all she could do.

“You needa learn some fucking respect when you’re the one horny and vulnerable,” Logan hissed the girl's ear as his hips slapped against her ass harder. The noises filled the dark road, only turning Logan on more.

“Such a good cunt. Heaven sent, and I knew it from the smell of you — I’m just upset you kept it from me for so damn long,”

Logan pushed Y/n’s head into the seat after unlatching his hand from her mouth. “Logan!” Y/n basically screamed as the knot got harder to hold.

“Funny knowing your pussy isn’t the only one crying. Look at you. So damn wet. I could keep you in my room and feed off of you for weeks,”

Y/n’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as her body went stiff. “Oh, yeah — There she is,” Logan groaned as he picked up his pace. “Ah huh, ah huh,” Logan kept on as y/n gushed around the man with a loud cry.

“That’s what you’ve been holdin? C’mon, baby. I know you’ve got more in you,” y/n shook her head, hoping Logan would give her a small break before she fully passed out. “Too much,”

“Too much? Oh, please. You think ima stop because you’re about to cum again?” Logan quickly pulled out and turned y/n around. “C’mon, baby, you should’ve known,”

Logan laid y/n down on her back before pushing right back into her. “Oh my god,” y/n whined as she threw her head back, loving the feeling of Logan taking her over. She never knew he’d be this good.

“Don’t worry, baby. After I’m done, we’ll head home — Maybe I should slip a pill down your pretty mouth more often,”

Y/n tried looking up at Logan to see if she heard right, but another orgasm was near. “Yeah, I did that, baby, but you ain’t complaining, right? You fucking love this,”

[princecharmingwinks]

Sterek Fic Rec - 2024

Guess who's backkkkk??? Ok so I know that I am late but only by like 4 days? So not too bad. Anyway! Welcome to Prince's 2024 Fic Rec List! I am now aiming to do a list every year (and more if we are lucky but let's not promise that hehe). As always here are my top 10 fics I read and a special bonus mention !

Perfect Star That Hid by thebigoblin (1/1 | 1K | Teen)

He turns his hand— It’s not bare, anymore. His wrist — it has a name. His soulmate’s name. He stares. And stares and stares because what the hell. This has to be a joke, right?

Last Christmas (I gave you my heart) by jadore_hale (1/1 | 4K | Teen)

“W-what is this?” Derek couldn’t even begin to get his mind around this current situation. “My Christmas gift to you, nephew.” Peter pushed the guy towards him, and Derek hastened to catch him before he fell face first on the floor. “I’d like you to meet your soul mate.” *** Derek's uncle Peter decides to get a little more creative this Christmas by finding Derek's soulmate and stuffing him in a box with a pretty bow on top.

Stiles Stilinski, Magical PI by suzvoy (1/1 | 21K | Mature)

Stiles is a Private Investigator, only not really. He's also magical, but only close up. One thing he's really good at is lusting over people from afar, which is why it's a problem when Laura Hale hires him to help her brother.

Wanted and Wounded by RoxyRosee (3/3 | 12K | Explicit)

Derek can't seem to get off. It's been days with no luck, and he's constantly on edge. But then pack night rolls around, and when Stiles falls into him as he goes to sit down on the couch, Derek is suddenly coming, right where he sits. Turns out, Stiles is his mate. And among a whole slew of embarrassing side effects to this whole "mate" thing is the fact that Derek will never again be able to have an orgasm without Stiles by his side. So yeah, Derek's life kind of sucks right now.

Welcome to the Jingle by Jmeelee (1/1 | 1K | Mature)

Derek could admit—only to himself, of course, never out loud—that he was a little desperate to make new holiday traditions with his (officially all adults now thank god) pack. But his ideas had run more along the lines of a cozy take-out dinner at his new apartment, an ugly sweater or white elephant party, or maybe volunteering at the local soup kitchen. It had not involved spending Christmas Eve at Jungle.

Hey Dad, Derek Hale Is In My Room. Bring Your Gun. by fairytalesandfolklore (1/1 | 767 | Teen)

Being the Sheriff's kid is hard enough. Having a seemingly over-protective father who's more concerned about your bad influence than your ex-murder-suspect werewolf boyfriend is so much worse.

"The point is, I'm an adult," he amends, heaving a weary sigh as he attempts to salvage whatever is left of his dignity. "I can make my own decisions, and I choose Derek. He makes me happy. He's a good guy. He treats me well. He looks out for me, keeps me safe. He's responsible and respectful and a complete gentleman, and I really think that if you just got to know him a little better, you'd really—" The Sheriff holds up a hand, effectively cutting Stiles off mid-ramble. "I like Derek just fine," he says, and the smile that spreads across his face is warm and genuine. "You do?" Stiles falters, completely thrown. "Wait, so then why—" The Sheriff's fond smile turns to one of wry amusement. "It's you I don't trust, Stiles," he says around a hearty chuckle. "I've raised you for 18 years, I know exactly what kind of mischief you're capable of. Wouldn't want you dragging that nice, respectable boy into any trouble."

The Hoodie by PersePhonesDreams (1/1 | 1K | General)

Stiles didn’t mean to keep Derek’s hoodie—really, he didn’t. But the oversized, ridiculously soft thing quickly became his favorite comfort item, a piece of Derek he couldn’t quite let go of. It’s not like Derek would notice anyway... right? When Derek unexpectedly shows up at Stiles’ window one quiet night, Stiles’ not-so-secret attachment to the hoodie is exposed, leading to a conversation that changes everything. Cue awkward confessions, teasing smiles, and the realization that maybe Derek doesn’t mind Stiles keeping more than just his hoodie.

Over the Hedge(witch) by rororowyourboat (1/1 | 7K | Teen)

Derek moves into a new house with Laura and he is flustered by the hot gardener next door who is always just slightly dirty.

And When I Wake You're There I'm Saved by suchfun (1/1 | 14K | Teen)

"Derek," Stiles says, firm. His hand is warm on Derek's shoulder. "I'll be okay." "You didn't leave me," Derek argues. "How can you expect me to leave you?" Stiles rolls his eyes. "Oh my god, it'll be fine. Even if I am captured, I'm just a boring human. They wanted you for your Lycan blood." Derek crosses his arms. Mainly so he doesn't wrap his hands around Stiles' throat in an attempt to throttle some sense into him. "That's fine. But this isn't a time when being a boring human is an asset. This is a time when being a boring human results in a shot to the head." "Derek," Stiles says again. He steps closer, so Derek is surrounded in his scent, his chemosignals—namely unwavering, resolute determination, distinctively sharp and entirely unbreakable—clouding Derek's mind. "You'll come back for me." He sounds so sure, and he can tell the exact moment Derek gives in. Because Derek somehow always gives in to Stiles. "I'll come back for you," he confirms. "And you better not be dead." Stiles grins, eyes sparkling with far too much humour for someone who potentially just sacrificed himself for a surly Lycan and bunch of strangers. "You do say the sweetest things."

Remember What's Lost by AMatchInWater (1/1 | 7K | Explicit)

Wild Hunt AU, Stiles gets taken and Derek instantly knows something is wrong with his memory, but just doesn't know what until Lydia calls him, begging for his help to get Stiles back because she thinks they have the strongest connection. When Derek saves Stiles he stops at nothing to finally get what's his.

princecharmingwinks special mention (this fic has a heck of a lot of emotions and when Derek fell to his knees, my heart broke. you gotta read it to find out why! don't worry I will never read or rec unhappy endings)

Horizons into Battlegrounds by AClosedFicIsNeverRead (1/1 | 15K | Explicit)

Derek has always kept his distance from Stiles, refusing to act on his instinctive desire for the pale, doe-eyed human. But at what cost? When circumstances reveal the horrors that Stiles has suffered due to Derek's self-imposed distance, will the Alpha be able to make it right before it's too late? ______________________________________________________ “Who are you to the pack?” the hunter asked. “I’m nobody.” Stiles answered plainly. And a harsh chill ran through Derek’s body. His breath caught in his throat because… because Stiles’ heart… it had remained steady. Stiles… actually believed that. Believed that he was ‘nobody.’ How could Stiles believe that?

That is all for 2024 my friends! Please remember to give kudos and leave comments for all our amazing Sterek writers. I know I'd be lost without you all. Thank you!

[bitethedevil]

When Gale become a god how can he sent Raphael to hells? Isn’t Raphael supposed to be powerful? Gods are above ?

A Guide to Gods, Devils, and Raphael

To answer the first part of the question: technically we can send him to the Hells too. If you try to damage Mizora, she just goes back to the Hells. If you kill a devil on the Material Plane, they also return to the Hells. When it comes to the relationship between gods and devils, it’s a bit more complicated and some background knowledge is needed. I’ve written a bit about it here.

I’m going to take this as an opportunity to brush up on some things and collect them in one post. Brace yourself, it’s one of the longer ones.

Gods and Devils

It all starts with the Pact Primeval. I’ve copied some of this from my own post above.

In the beginning of everything, there was chaos. Out of that chaos came the demons (who are not devils). Lawful deities began to fight that chaos but eventually they got tired of it because there were seemingly an endless supply of demons. The gods couldn’t be bothered anymore and created angels to this job for them.

One of those angels was Asmodeus, who is still the top dog in the Hells. He was the shit at killing demons. The trouble was that the more the angels fought the demons, the more traits they came to share with them to fight them more efficiently. They turned ugly and twisted too because the demons they fought were so, and that is why they look like they do now.

The gods then saw how their angels had changed, and they were disgusted by it. They did not want those twisted beings living anywhere near them. They tried to banish Asmodeus and the other angels from the Heavens.

Asmodeus was not having any of that. There came a trial and Asmodeus essentially pointed out that “hey, I actually just did what I was made for, and I did it pretty damn well too. We’ve only dirtied our hands so yours can stay clean. If we are to be lawful beings, then this charge isn’t a fair one”. Asmodeus could “wield the law like a knife” and the deities had to admit that what he was saying was right, so they couldn’t do much.

Eventually, the deities had made intelligent beings (humanoids) and to protect these beings, they made barriers between them and the demons. To their horror, the deities saw that some of the intelligent beings they had so carefully tried to protect, insisted on breaking these barriers and letting demons into their world. The gods were confused and exasperated at this and weren’t sure how to stop them.

That is when Asmodeus comes in with a plan: There should be punishments for those who disobey the gods, or else there will continue to be chaos. So, Asmodeus, Mephistopheles and Dispater (who would all eventually become archdevils), along with the other twisted angels went out and punished the wrong doers.

As these tortured and punished people trickled into the Heavens after their death, the deities were once again disgusted and pulled in Asmodeus to answer for this. They did not want those punished mortals in their realm, so Asmodeus came with another solution: basically, creating the Hells. All he wanted in return was to be able to draw power from the souls of those he punishes, since they (the twisted angels) cannot draw power from the gods while being separated from them

The gods all agreed and signed what would be known as the Pact Primeval which held these terms. The gods then freaked out when they found out that what has now become the devils of the Hells encourage people to do wrong so that they end up in the Hells. When confronted with this by the angry gods, Asmodeus simply smiles and answers: Read the fine print.

And tadaa. The Hells are the Hells and devils are devils, and it had been this way since the Pact Primeval.

The gods are stronger than even the Archdevils, but some devils, like Asmodeus, has grasped at godhood and achieved it, which muddies things a bit. Generally though, devils don’t have much on the gods, but due to being tangled up in being Lawful, the gods can’t do much about what goes on in the Hells. Think of the Hells as a sort of republic that still has beef with the country they came from.

The Hells, Hierachy and True Devils

The Hells is a place where there is a strict hierarchical society. You start out as a Lesser Devil, which is usually lemures (creatures who are globs of stinking flesh that barely has a conciousness) and imps. If you’re good at what you do, you can eventually get promoted to being a Greater Devil, and if you are truly the shit and you stab all the right backs to get there, you can become an archdevil one day.

The process for promotion is pretty gross. With True Devils, they have a bunch of sacs inside them that explode and make them into their new form.

The whole point of bowing and scraping to the ones above you is so that you can get promoted. However, if you screw up, you will get demoted instead. Say that you are a Spined Devil, and you get caught sabotaging the Archdevil you work for: they might pull you down a rank or worse, they will demote you back to being a lemure and you have to start all over again.

If you have made a deal with a devil while alive, you will end up in the Hells when you die as a lemure. Everyone starts at the lowest level when they die.

Raphael and Cambions

Raphael is a cambion, which means that he is half mortal and half-devil, and thus he is not a True Devil. Raphael hasn’t died and gone to the Hells. He was never a lemure (though he might become one if his daddy eats him in your playthrough). He started out as a cambion, and a cambion he will continue to be. Cambions, to my understanding, can’t get promoted or demoted, since they haven’t died or started out as lemures.

Cambions are pretty far down in the hierarchy. They only have their cunning and their ambition to get them anywhere in the Hells. Raphael is essentially suffering from Chihuahua Syndrome, where he acts like a much bigger dog than he is, because the truth is that he doesn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things and the other bigger and scarier devils barely give him a second glance (sorry pookie).

He has achieved much for a cambion though, and he uses his charm, cunning, and outside sources to achieve all of that. I suspect that the little trick he does with his ascended form is something that takes a lot of souls to achieve and isn’t truly permanent in any way. He is a cambion so his only true forms are the human one and the devil one (yes, the human one is actually not an illusion per Fifth Edition DnD. That is his form too and really him. I learned this recently).

Raphael’s main strong suit is the fact that him being a cambion means that he can go to the Material Plane and collect souls. Not all devils can leave the Hells like that.

So basically…

The gods are above the Archdevils in strength, the Archdevils above the Greater Devils, and the Greater Devils above the Lesser Devils. I think Raphael fits somewhere between just above the lowest of the Lesser Devils but under Greater Devils. It’s no wonder that he wants the Crown of Karsus. He needs all the help he can get to get where he wants to be.

Just imagine how much it sucks though: your dad is a literal archdevil and because your mother is a mortal, everyone else in your surroundings will treat you only slightly better than a damn lemure. Poor little guy.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[kichikichiko]

haiiii!! I’d like to put in a request for Boothill x an alcoholic mechanic reader who’s personality takes a complete 180 when drunk, like when the reader is sober they’re a really quiet nervous person but when they feed their addiction they turn into a party animal.(If I had to compare the reader’s personality to an existing character I’d say they’re like hiroi from bocchi the rock) also I think it’d be cute if the reader did things like maintenance checks and fixed up Boothill/his stuff from time to time :3

Moonshine

Happy new year everyone! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و sorry I've been gone for so long!

Also so sorry for taking this long to write your request ;; I had the biggest writers block in my life last year

Hope you like this silly lil fic of Boothill! (He's my favourite character good lord)

Pairing: Boothill x gn mechanic alcoholic! reader

Synopsis: Reader is an alcoholic in disguised, and your client (and secret crush)

Warnings: Fluff, Reader likes drinking alcohol, Reader is mentioned to be shy but takes a 180 on their personality after intaking alcohol, nicknames/ petnames mentioned by Boothil, not proofread.

Working as a mechanic is no easy job. Nights without sleep, days with frustrations. It just never ends! Of course you’re going to turn to alcohol for solace and comfort. It is only natural! You tell yourself. 

It’s not like you drink alcohol as you work no no no. You grab a bottle of alcohol and drown yourself to the intoxicating taste of it after hours. During harder days, you’ll go to a bar during the night and get real drunk. Dancing to the live band, singing with other patrons, talking with strangers… all of that. Because of that, you always prefer to get drunk alone, where no one you know can see that side of you. After all, you were shy and quiet and always got the job done. That’s what your frequent and loyal client, Boothill the cyborg, thinks anyway. 

Boothill is known to run into danger, Hell, he probably is Danger himself. So it’s not surprising he ends up with a few bad damages to his metal body here and there. He always comes to you for a bit (a lot actually-) of fixing up. It’s totally because he thinks you're reliable and not because of any other reason… 

“You should be more mindful about yourself, Boothill. This is the third time you’ve visited my workshop in a week.” You grumbled as you fixed up his mechanic arm. 

“What's all the fuss about sweetheart? My human head is perfectly fine, besides, this time it’s only my arm that’s in rough shape.” He grins which earned him a disapproving shake of your head. 

“Still, that doesn’t mean you're invincible. What if one day your heart is the one getting damaged? You know how much work and stress you’ll put me through?” You weren’t yelling per say, you never yelled at Boothill, or anyone for that matter. But it was very evident you were annoyed and worried. 

Boothill sighed and nodded his head “Alright sugarplum, I’ll be more careful next time.” 

You hummed in response and silence ensued, only the sound of you tinkering with your equipment filled the workshop. Boothill looked at you from his seat. The crease of your eyebrows, the small frown on your lips and the sweat dripping from your forehead so focused on fixing his arm. Sometimes he feels a little guilty, for making you work hard almost everyday when he comes to visit you. He’ll never admit that sometimes he gets into real danger just to see you often. Small maintenance once a week doesn’t cut it for him. He wanted to see you everyday. 

“Hey sweetheart, you’ve been working real hard today, how ‘bout after this, I take you out for a drink?” The cowboy smirked, waiting for your reply. He’s never seen you drink before, and he doesn't know if you do, but it’s worth the shot to ask. 

You paused for a second, then looked up at him “You’ll pay?” 

He scoffed at your question. “I’ll getcha as many drinks as you want.”

“Deal.”

★⋆. ࿐࿔

Hours passed, and you finally closed up your workshop. Boothill seemed to know the area well, because he decided to take you to a bar quite far from your workshop, despite there being a bar quite near your place. Honestly, you were glad for his suggestion. You were a regular customer in the bar near your workshop, and dare not make that known to Boothill. 

You started to regret taking up Boothill’s offer for a drink, in fear of getting drunk and letting your “party animal” side come out. What would he think of you? Would he be shocked? Disgusted?. You shook your head. It's not like I get drunk with just one drink.. but the fear remains. 

When you both arrived at the bar, you made a mental note to just have a maximum of two drinks. 

You and Boothill sat by the bar (counter), “Heya boss, a glass of whiskey for me and..” Boothill turned to you, waiting for your reply. 

“Sweetened mood for me.” you told the Bartender, who nodded and started making your drinks. 

“Thanks for today by the way, (Name). I always know I can count on you to get me back to shape” 

You smiled a little and shook your head. “Not an easy job having you come in so often, but no problem.” Just then, the bartender gave you both your drinks. 

“Aw c’mon, havin’ me around has its perks, don't lie now sugarcube you love havin’ me around.”

You didn’t reply but you silently agreed, and took a sip of your drink.. drink number one. 

The conversation between the two of you flowed so smoothly, like the amount of alcohol you started to drink. It was already more than two, and you felt your cheeks flush. But you didn’t stop. 

As if fate was trying to push you further, a live band started to play, and the urge to dance along kicked in. You felt light headed and tipsy, but instead of stopping you ordered another alcohol and chugged it down. 

“Woah there (name) didn’t know you could drink this much! Had I known, I would’ve taken you out back then!” 

You slammed your cup on the table and laughed “I’m sure you would have, but I would have said no to your offer.” truly the alcohol was taking over your senses, because you felt yourself stand up from your seat and slowly swat to the beat of the song from the live band. Boothill’s eyes followed you and widened when you started dancing to the music. Your laugh, your smile, the red cheeks clearly intoxicated. This was the you he has never seen before, but he doesn’t complain. Instead, he grinned and went to the dance floor with you and started dancing along. 

You smiled at him “Follow my movements cowboy, only if you can of course.” You teased.

“Is that a challenge, sugarplum?” The said cowboy teased back. 

“Depends on how you take it.”

The atmosphere of the bar became more lively, dancing, laughing and cheering along. Making you all the more hyped and making Boothill all the more attracted to you. 

Hours later, the music stopped and the atmosphere dulled down to a calm one. By this point, the cowboy knew it was time to take you back.

“You sure caught me by surprise, (name).” He chuckled, carrying your sleeping figure back to your place.

Though you couldn’t hear him, he continued. “I hope you’ll show me this side of you again, sweetheart.”

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

Masterlist

Requesting

[princesitangelita]

⊹₊⟡⋆♡ jim refuses to leave the office without you after your lame boyfriend forgets to pick you up from work.. again..

warnings: just a little bit of angst, jim is jealous and frustrated, comfort (?), slight fluff, cheating (but not really???)

a/n: ditzy!reader only has a boyfriend in this fic alone, not as part of her entire !reader lore <3 send in jim req’s!

“byeee!” you adjusted the pink scarf around your neck as phyllis and bob vance from ‘vance refrigeration’ drove away, both of them waving at you with wide smiles plastered on their faces. god, it was cold out here. “come on, roy..” you whispered to yourself, poking your head out to look at the entrance of the parking lot. small clouds formed with each breath you exhaled, the cold pennsylvania air nipping at the skin of your cheeks and the tip of your nose. you watched as everyone filed out of the building one by one, your heart sinking to your stomach as the sun set further down the horizon.

sighing out in frustration, you scrambled through your purse for your phone, the bag slipping from your fingers before the contents tumbled out onto the concrete. you laughed to yourself, just thinking about how much more embarrassing can this get. your boyfriend had obviously forgotten all about picking you up for the second time this week, your favorite lipglosses are rolling down the pavement, the tubes only getting further out of arm’s reach, and your skirt is far too tight for you to pick up your stuff without looking awkward and frazzled.

“this is the worst..” you speed walked down the parking lot, your heels clicking against the walkway until jim came out, wasting no time in jogging over. “hey, what are you still doing here?” he followed your line of vision, quickly getting your stuff off of the ground before towering over you. your cheeks always heated at the height difference between you two, a hint of a smile playing on jim’s lips when he saw the flustered expression on your pretty face. “n-no reason! uhm, something came up with roy, so i’m—” before you could finish whatever lie was going to slip from your tongue, he interrupted you.

“again? does he know it’s like twenty degrees out here?”

jim was irritated to say the least— but not with you. never at you. he took off his coat, draping it over your shoulders before guiding you back inside. “wait here while i go warm up the car real quick, alright?” he didn’t give you time to object, leaving you in the warm lobby as he stepped out in nothing but a button up. deciding to dial roy one more time, you rolled your eyes when the call went straight to voicemail. you should’ve known it wouldn’t have gone through. throwing the damned thing back in your purse, you didn’t wait longer than five minutes before jim pulled up right out front.

he opened the door for you, his face bright red from the cold as he motioned for you to come outside. “jim, you really don’t have to do this! i was just about to go to the bus stop.” you stayed seated, shrugging off his coat as he shook his head. “and let you sit out in this weather? absolutely not.” he almost sounded offended, his tall figure coming inside once again to scoop you up in his arms. “really, jim, it wouldn’t be the first time, i—” opening the passenger door, he sat you down gently, cutting you off before you could make up a ridiculous excuse for your boyfriend who clearly didn’t care if you froze halfway to death.

when jim was in his seat, he couldn’t help but squeeze the steering wheel with an unforgiving grip. “i’m sure roy got caught up with something, it’s fine, truly!” why were you still trying to defend him? roy was the last person who deserved to be with you. the guy doesn’t even send you work flowers for christ’s sake! he blatantly checks out other girls in front of you, which jim could never wrap his head around because to him you were the only person who existed inside of a room, he never let you go out with your work buddies, and he sure as hell never complimented you.. at least not in the way you should be getting complimented.

it took a lot to get jim upset, but seeing the way your smile falters when roy dismisses something you say, or the way the sparkle in your eyes dim when he doesn’t react to something new about you. your hair, for example. you had got it done, the style suiting you perfectly, making you look so cute and pretty, all just for roy to not even acknowledge your new ‘do. he remembered you having to excuse yourself to the ladies room and seeing your glossy eyes avoid everyone’s gaze as you zoned out of the conversation roy was so focused on rambling about once you came back.

so bad, jim just wanted to ask what on earth you saw in him. of course, he wouldn’t do that, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t wrack his brain pretty often for an answer. “i’m sure he got busy,” jim agreed, not wanting to push the situation, “do you think he’s home?” you blinked. he definitely had to be at home. “no.” you lied, meeting jim’s eyes, “why?” please ask me out, please ask me out, you repeated in your head. “ah, well, i don’t know about you, but i can really go for a hot chocolate from retro’s..” retros. that was your usual spot for whenever jim treated you to lunch.. which was almost everyday.

please say yes, please say yes, he pleaded silently as a sudden smile made its way to your lips. “with jumbo marshmallows and a croissant?” jim chuckled. “yeah, whatever you want.”

[mar3ggiata]

the night of the tarantula - 2

simon riley x oc

tw: violence, death, pregnancy, mafia, miscarriage, terrorism

'Swinging by my neck from the family tree.'

'What have you done to her?'

Laswell's presence felt like a warm hug. She stormed in the interrogation room to find her precious trainee Eva tied to a chair, on the verge of tears, back hunched foreword in sorrow. 'Why the hell is she tied to the chair, for Christ's sake!' She repressed a smile, things were starting to turn for her. Laswell was protecting, more than anything she was understanding and smart. She knew why she did what she did, she had listened when she told her how things worked in Italy, she had done her research. She was smart, unlike the men in the room. And Grace. Grace was the stupidest of all.

'Untie her, now.' She demanded. Like some kind of sick joke, it was Ghost she gestured to, to go take off her handcuffs. She kept her eyes on Laswell, but saw him in her peripheral, moving towards her. She moved in the chair to show her hands. His heart ached a little, seeing her wrists red, the metal cuffs digging into her skin. You did this to yourself, Eva. It was weird, thinking about her with a different name. A different sound. He tried to avoid touching her while removing the cuffs, not to make her think he was on her side. Never again. Laswell circled the table to come close to her. She was rubbing her right wrist. He heard her whisper something to calm Eva down, along the lines of 'it's gonna be fine', or 'you're not in trouble'. He watched Eva's expression, it didn't change. She was serious and unbreakable, she wasn't scared, she wasn't worried at all. He tried to read her lips. 'I am not in contact…' she whispered, Price stepped in.

'Hey, OI!' His fist connected to the table, making the two women turn their heads. 'What do you think you're doing? You're under federal investigation Eva, do you understand that?!' He raised his voice. Eva's lips turned in a weird, sick grin, a smile? She sat silent in her chair, while Laswell was scolding the captain for being rude and unconsiderate.

Simon wanted to yell at her. He wanted to grab her chin, make her look at him and ask her why. Why? Why me, why did you do that to me? Who are you, what are you doing in this country? All you said, was it a lie? All you told me about your past, a lie? Why did you tell me, then? Why me?

The girl looked down at her hands while Laswell, his captain and the General spoke. Once he started looking at her he really could not stop. His eyes were glued to her face, her hands, her posture, he could not do any different. She looked tired, she looked pale, the dark makeup around her eyes lightly smeared on the skin below her lower lashes. She was sweating. And she didn’t look his way, why?!? Don’t you care?! Not even to look my way?

‘Okay, Eva…’ Laswell turned around, ‘… It’s not gonna be easy…’ She continued, he still didn’t take his eyes off her. ‘The past few weeks have been hard for your family in Italy, Tania, your mom…’, she pressed her palms to the table, ‘…your sister Maria and the rest of the clan, they’re suspecting an attack from the Caseranos, from Carmine.’ She explained, keeping her tone of voice low, calm and collected. This was nothing new to Eva. With the Caseranos’ leader in prison Carmine was going to step up, and what did Carmi want more than anything? Revenge. And money and control and what did he need to achieve that? That her family stopped interfering with his business, her family’s death possibly. Her, most of all he wanted her dead. For good reason.

Kate took another deep breath. Eva was sitting so tense and still on the chair Simon could swear she was made of stone. She looked like a painting. 'We have proof Italian special forces are preparing an intervention towards your family, towards their business with prostitution and migrant smuggling to be exact, which I'm sure you are familiar with.'

The words washed over Simon like icy water. Prostitution and migrant smuggling business Eva was familiar with... Who the actual fuck was this woman...

'At the same time, violence grows in the other clan, and its effects on the populations in Naples are terrifying. We would like...'

Price interrupted the woman with a cough. She resumed, but with sorrow in her eyes.

'We are offering a bargain. Either you cooperate, you work with us in Italy and you help us by infiltrating you own family, I guess, going undercover and helping with the investigation... It would lead with a trial for your mom and uncle, and sister too, along with all the associates...'

Eva slowly shook her head, a ringing in her ear making it almost impossible to make out what Laswell was saying. You don't get it...

'...And you get to stop the Caseranos too, their control over the northern neighbourhoods has become a dictatorship, people live in fear and -'

'What's the second option?' Eva asked.

Laswell's eyebrows raised, slightly shocked at her sudden request. Simon felt rage burning up in his chest, the last residues of hope for the girl long gone. She wouldn't comply.

'There would be an investigation carried out on you, Eva.' She declared, arms crossed over her chest. 'You'd be charged with participation in transnational organised crime.'

‘Dai… resta’, another kiss, wet and hot against my neck. I do my best to wiggle out his grip, giving I’m stronger than him I am soon on my feet. He protests some more, asking me to spend the night, but I’m already pulling my shirt on my body. It really is a chore, spending time with him. I liked him before, but that was what, a year ago? Now… it's work… It takes me another 15 minutes to get fully dressed and get him out of bed. The night is calm, it's warm outside. The sky looks smooth like a soft blanket, like it's shielding me from something evil coming from the outside. Swinging my legs over the window, Genny gives me a kiss goodnight. I hate every second of it. I don't like his hands, I don't like his arms, he just got a tattoo and it looks very bad. I don't like his eyes, I know he'll look at my ass while I walk away. I don't like how he tastes cause he smokes a lot with his older brother. I don't like the sound of his voice when he says that I'm his.

I jumped out the window cause his parents can't know we're together. Nobody really knows except for my mom and uncle. It was their idea. Genny was the cool kid at my school, he's a year older than me, he's 19. I've always liked him really, he's fit and he has a cool bike. Many of us have bikes, but his just looks better. Genny's brother is called Carmine, he's much worse. He's taller, he's quite big. Everyone knows he's in the clan and he's gonna be in charge on day. Their dad is the leader of their clan. They deal with the northern part of Naples, we're not really allowed to go there, like ever. They'll kill us. By 'we' I mean me and my sister Maria.

My sister never really worked for our mom, she's a normal child, she plays tennis. She's good at school. I would loooove to be as good as her, I recently found out I quiet like reading. I read this book called Fairy Oak, about two fairy sisters. I don't really have time to read these days cause I work so much. My uncle does my homework. I can't get bad grades cause my teachers are all scared of my family. I can't fail cause I'm who I am. I know it's kinda unfair, but with all the work I do for mom, I really don't have time to study…

I started working when I was really young, I think I was 10. My uncle told me he saw me playing with bullets on the kitchen floor as a baby and he knew I would be a good fit for the family. I start at 3pm. I have a route I need to follow and people to meet. They gave me money, which I have to count and then I give them drugs. I don't know a lot about cocaine, I know you snort it and it's 50euros per bag. I have pills, I have marijuana, but only on the weekend, business is slow on weekdays. Sometimes adults try to fool me, I have a knife for when that happens. I don't like hurting people, but what can I do? I mean, I go around with this backpack full of fucking drugs and I'm not even 18, I need to make sure they respect me, and not just for who my mom is… Is it wrong i even kinda like it when they’re frightened? I like how it makes me feel, you know, their fear… It's like I'm in charge, I'm the adult, I can hurt them if I want to or if they piss me off.

Anyways…

Carmine, Genny's brother, killed my brother. It happened two years ago. I don't remember much, Maria says it's cause it was traumatic for the whole family. In a shooting, he died. But I know Carmine did it. He did it so my family wouldn't have a leader, cause he was a boy and he was gonna lead after my father's passing. So, you may ask, why are you dating the brother of the kid that killed your brother? Well. I am gathering intel, as mom says. Things didn't go as expected for the Caseranos. When my brother died they thought we didn't have a leader. My mom stepped in, she was one of the first female clan leaders. I was the next in line. When it comes to revenge, people in the mafia don't mess around. Hey, maybe it's an Italian thing, we're passionate about things, family and traditions are important for us. I was in a relationship with Carmine's brother and, by visiting where they operated, what their deals were and with who, I got intel for my mom. I knew when they left their house, when their parents weren't around. How to get in, get out, where they kept money...

I found out their mom was pregnant. I found out when she was at 2 months, I waited till she was 7. A beautiful, healthy baby mafia boy. I knew the times she usually went to church alone, their dad had business to attend. I knew which car she took. They killed my brother so we wouldn't have a leader, so the name of the Dalla Rocca would be forgotten, our legacy erased.

By the time the firefighters arrived at the scene, the bomb had already destroyed the car and set fire to the shop it was parked in front of. People were trying to get Carmine's mom out. The baby's vitals were weak when they measured them in the ambulance. During the ultrasound, they didn't find a heartbeat.

I killed Carmine's brother before he was even born.

Revenge is a dance. Is to be expected, follows you like a shadow. And for us, in the Camorra, rules don't apply, only the ones we create. The law follows our wishes. We shape justice how's more convenient to us.

Once you're in, you'll never be out. You can try and escape, run and hide, pretend it doesnt exist. It does.

And it'll find you.

notes: back from the dead with this heavy thing!!! I am again studying like crazy but the story is planned out (kinda) and it will be published. everything I say about southern italian mafia organisations is researched, I do criminology and I've studied these type of organisations and the social response/legal side of it

enjoy xx

taglist:

@random-fandom-smoothie @lucienofthelakes

@ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me @asteriadisera

[artslovergirl]

Stanford!art as a secret admirer pleaaaaase

hiii! sorry this took me literally a month to finish i am still not very good at keeping a drabble a drabble and this one really got away from me but i promise in the future that hopefully wont be the case....anywhoo! enjoy! (also ty for being my first request ever!)

admittedly, art felt like a creep. not enough to stop sneaking glances at you across the lecture hall but definitely enough to feel hot shame crawl up his neck whenever you would accidentally meet his eye contact.

he quickly glanced away and stared back at the blackboard, trying to pretend that's what he had been looking at all along.

he began fiddling with his pen, pushing the plastic end of it nervously against his lips. he could feel your eyes on him for a few moments longer before turning back around to face the professor.

great. now you probably actually thought he was a creep. which is not exactly how he planned your first form of contact to go.

...alright, to be fair, he never had an exact plan in the first place? but "make awkward eye contact" wouldn't have been a part of it. that's for sure.

he was a little out of his element here. stanford was a hell of a lot bigger than mark rebellato was.

back there, most of the girls knew him, sometimes even liked him already or he had patrick as his wingman. (or when it came to tashi, competition.) but here? he felt so unsure all of a sudden. it felt like all of the experience he had with dating seemed completely useless.

when he first saw you, he was still pretty infatuated with tashi. but that doesnt mean he didnt notice how hot you were. as more time passed the more he realized that tashi and patrick were apprently locked in (go figure the dude finally learns commitment just in time. read bitterness.) and the more he saw you, the more he heard you talk in class, the more he saw you laugh with your friends, the more you wouldnt leave his mind. not to mention how fucking smart you were. well, are.

the lecture ended and as always you were one of the first people out the door. you were always in a rush. or maybe you just had another class all the way on the other side of campus?

he wondered what your major was. he wondered if you knew he played tennis. he wondered if it would even impress you if you found out. he hoped it would.

---

art was sitting in the cafeteria stabbing his fork into his salad that consisted of like 70% veggies and 30% eggs.

he had to say, he was definitely getting sick of eggs at this point. he took a small sip of his gatorade.

usually, he drank blue, but he decided to try red today. maybe because it was patrick's favorite flavor or maybe because he needed at least a little change in routine.

unfortunately, as he went to place the bottle back down on the table, he almost knocked it over as soon as he suddenly noticed you standing by the vending machine. and then turning around. and.. walking towards him? holy shit.

at first, he thought you would just walk past him, but you stopped at his table. he didn't know if he believed in god, but at that moment, he certainly felt like a favorite.

"hey," you smiled politely, "sorry to bother you, but do you happen to have a quarter? that thing doesn't seem to take nickles." you nodded your head towards the vending machine at the entrance of the cafeteria.

"uh." his brain tried to play catch up. "um, yeah, let me check." he let out a small chuckle so he wouldn't sound so nervous, but it sounded more like he was wheezing. he pulled out his wallet, ripped apart the velcro, and checked. he silently celebrated when he noticed he did, in fact, have a few quarters. "yeah, how many do you need?" he looked up at you. his cheeks felt hot.

"oh, just one is fine." he nods, and suddenly, in front of your presence, it seems a lot harder to properly grab the quarter from his wallet. he does manage, though, and as he hands it to you, he feels your fingers brush against his palm.

as if transferred from your fingertips to his palm it felt like a surge went through his body, traveling through his arteries and sparking at the tips of his fingers and toes. you hand him your nickels in exchange. before you could turn to leave, he quickly interjected, "we're in the same class, right? english literature?"

he didnt know where he was going with this, he just wanted to keep talking to you.

your eyes flashed with recognition.

"oh, yeah! art, right? you sit behind me?" you knew his name. "yeah, yeah, that's right." he nodded, his fingers drummed against the table. there was a short lull in the conversation as he desperately tried to grasp for anything to talk about that wouldn't seem like he was hitting on you (even though he kind of was.)

"so, uh, this is actually good timing because i've been sorta meaning to talk to you anyway?" his lips pulled into a familiar charming lopsided smile.

"oh, really?" you tilted your head. "yeah." he nodded, his hand going to fidget with curls on the back of his neck that stuck out of his backwards cap.

"i, uh, need some help with some of the material, and, you know, you're so good-"

"oh, i'm not that-"

"nah, c'mon no need to be modest," there's that grin again, "i don't think i've ever seen you get a question wrong."

you huff, feeling embarrassed at the unexpected praise, "well, it's literature, so it's all interpretation, it's hard to be outright wrong."

"see, that answer just confirms it." he says.

you chuckle, finally giving in and accepting the compliment. "so..you want my help then?" he nods. he really prayed you would say yes because this was really his only plan on how to get to know you.

you mulled over it for a few seconds. then you nodded. "yeah, okay, let me give you my number and we can figure out the details later. i got another class in like-" you glanced back at the clock, "shit, 3 minutes."

you hastily ripped a piece of paper out of your notebook scribbled a number on it and left it on the table. "oh, and thanks for the quarter!" you yelled back (even though you didn't even get to use it) before booking it out of the cafeteria. guess he was right about you always being in a rush.

---

4:58 pm. 2 more minutes till you'd knock at his door. art did another once over of his room. now he wasn't exactly a messy guy but he had to admit his dorm had never been this clean before. actually maybe it was too clean...would you think that was weird? like would you think he was a neatfreak? girls probably weren't into that.

he began messing up his bedsheets just a little so it wouldnt look like he had just spent the past three hours obsessively cleaning every inch of his dorm. even though thats exactly what he did.

it was a pretty small room but you'd be surprised how long it can take to clean if you're doing a real deep clean. not to mention the pain in the ass that doing laundry in college was.

he did all of this because, keeping true to your word, you did make plans with him to help him out with some of the reading.

you : does 5pm on saturday work 4 u?? :-)

art : Yeah, I'm totally free!!

(in hindsight the two exclamation points were probably a bit much.)

just as he was about to check out his hair for the 5th time today, there was a knock on the door. he glanced at the little digital watch on his wrist. 5pm sharp. wow, you were punctual. was it weird that he found that hot?

art quickly brushes a few unruly curls that were sticking out of his backwards cap away with his fingers before moving to open the door.

---

"so, what's the exact stuff you're having trouble with?" you peered at him from his bed, which you were sitting on, which he was being very cool about.

you had asked him if it was okay to sit there after you had exchanged a few pleasantries and then chatted for about 10 minutes.

it was mostly about class at first, then turned into more personal topics. you asked him if he was on the tennis team, because of all the..well..tennis gear in his room.

he nodded and told you about his tennis scholarship. you chuckled and said you had never really watched any matches at stanford so far, but you'd like to see him play.

he really tried to not seem overly enthusiastic about that but he did tell you the exact time and date of his next match.

apparently, you thought the sport seemed "really impressive". ( i.e. you were impressed. i.e. you were impressed by him playing tennis. or that's at least how he heard it.)

then, after he found out you were an english major, which wasn't a surprise, you finally brought up the topic of studying.

he spun in his desk chair, to face you.

"just some of this..interpretive stuff...i feel like i never know what the professor wants to hear from me." he tapped the end of his pen against the book he was holding. "well.." you shifted into a cross-legged postion, you were wearing shorts and he was trying really hard not to stare at your legs.

"you probably shouldnt be thinking about that in the first place, you know, what the professor wants to hear? you should think about what you actually got from the book." he knew this was pretty standard advice but when you said it, it sounded like the most intelligent, world-changing thing he'd ever heard.

"riiight...what if i didnt get anything from it?" he smiled sheepishly, leaning his head on his hand. you scrunched up your nose and playfully rolled your eyes, "oh, come on, how can you read classic literature and not get anything from it? i don't believe that."

you scooted forward a little. a little closer to him. a nervous chuckle left his lips, his gaze swept back and forth between you and the book before settling on you.

truth be told, he was doing fine, at least grade-wise, and even if he wasn't, it wasn't like he was striving to become an english professor, he mostly decided to take this class on a whim. but the part about struggling with interpretations was true, it just maybe wasn't necessarily a dire enough situation to require your help...

"well, maybe youre not asking yourself the right questions before you read." you hummed, gently tapping your finger against your leg. "can i see your notes?"

art panicked a bit at that. he wasn't sure why, but suddenly someone looking at his notes felt oddly intimate. you would be able to read the bits and parts of the book he regarded as important enough to jot down. what he liked. what he didn't like. perhaps it was a little intimate.

he tried to play it casual, though, and nodded as he handed you his english lit folder. his nerves only got worse the longer you took to read through them.

then suddenly, you smiled and nodded a little bit before looking up at him again. he prayed that you couldn't see the way his heart was trying to escape his ribcage right now.

"you know, you couldve just asked me out."

before his brain could even process that sentence, his mouth seemed to go into immediate action to splutter out some kind of denial in order to salvage this, "what? i- no, no, that's not- i mean, seriously why would-"

"i mean, i wouldn't have said no. like you didn't have to pretend to need my help. you clearly don't need it-" you gently tossed his folder back onto the desk. "-plus you're cute."

he didn't move for a good few seconds until he finally caught up to what had just happened.

now, this would've been the moment where he would've liked to be really cool and smooth in his response, but instead what happened was: "um..so then are we..like are you.."

in his defense you kind of caught him off guard. like completely. he had had a plan. how the study sessions would transition into friendship, and then maybe, hopefully at some point would transition into dating. he was a patient guy, really, and you had just skipped like...everything.

"are you free tomorrow?" you asked, as you stood up to grab your bag. wow, you were really taking the wheel at this point. and he discovered that he had shockingly little problem with that.

"uh, yeah, yeah i'm free..like all day." he did have training in the morning but he truly would skip it just this once if it came down to it.

"2pm?"

"sure."

"i'll text you?"

"okay."

"so..it's a date?"

you had stood up from the bed and were suddenly already on your way out. probably because you could tell he needed a minute.

"yeah, a date." he nodded with a (almost lovestruck) smile he hadn't even noticed had snuck its way unto his lips. you reciprocated with an equally excited grin, "cool."

before he knew it, the door had clicked shut, and he was alone again. he felt warm.

"cool."

[wvrlock]

// Fallahan main BG3 verse though... in which he chickened out of Avernus before the city was saved but after they rescued Duke Ravengard, moved to Vanthampur Manor and started making a living out of the tale

[moeblob]

son boy raccoon trash can man suffering in a dnd au as a cleric bc his warlock will not stop committing murders and he has to keep coming up with reasons murder is valid to convince the gm its fine and under control

[carlyraejepsans]

i don't think I've ever enjoyed a birthday party with friends as much as today i am genuinely getting a bit teary eyed

[raddest-laddest]

thinking about this really funny interaction i had with my boss yesterday

[bakafurai]

yeah that's fine I didn't need my heart anyways