#your hand will be bleeding after a handshake

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin]

Holding Hands

Spencer Reid despised hand shakes, they were not only just most men’s way to show strength and power but the amount of germs that was transmitted during handshakes made him shiver. When you had offered him your hand his first reaction was to spit out the fact. 

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.” 

He saw how you smiled, how you tilted your head and how your hair fell. Derek teased him after but he just semi ignored him. It didn’t help when you laughed somewhere behind and he almost snapped his neck to look at you. 

But oh was it worth it.

Your head, thrown back, eyes closed, and your hair shaking slightly.

Your smile. His new favourite thing.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.” 

He treasured the memory.

He had offered to drive you towards your apartment with you, it had been a really gruesome case this time and the killer was someone you knew, they’d been targeting people around you. You had been held at gunpoint and got scraped by a bullet. He glanced at you from time to time. You both had a responsibility to keep each other safe, you all did but his felt deeper with you.  

He felt useless when he saw you bleeding. He shot the unsub yes, arrested him yes, but he still felt responsible. In the corner of his eye he noticed how your hand was shaking in a fist. Gently he held out his hand and grinned at your confused face.

“Use me, I-I like a stress-” he shut himself up as you intertwined your fingers with his and smiled. Spencer saw sparks. Felt it. Creeping up from his fingers, racing up his arm and tickling his heart.

“Thank you Spencer.” 

He didn’t know how to describe the moment with any word other than warm. It was familiar and soft and he loved every minute of it. Even as he drove he kept your hand in his the entire ride. You had fallen asleep and he just waited on the street by your house, smiling like a fool with his eyes on your interlocked hands. 

When you shuffled out of his car, hiding your smile disappearing into your house, with a softly whispered 'goodnight' he made no motion to leave, he sat there grinning like a teenager after their first kiss. His hand, still tingling.

______________________________________________________________

no. 2 of Spencer Reid's firsts

[mockerycrow]

ghost x gn!reader — “sharper teeth” (blurb)

After Las Almas, everyone changed. That much is obvious. Probably more so Ghost, Soap, and you—you always thought Ghost and Soap got the most shit from the situation. Ghost, being hunted down and hiding in a Church in the city. Soap earned a bullet, luckily nonfatal, and you? That’s something you’re not very keen on sharing with, well.. Anyone, really. The boys call it lying when you insist nothing happened, you call it keeping your business close to yourself.

Over the next few following months, however, it became increasingly obvious something is wrong with you. If it wasn’t evident in your bark, it was evident in your bite. After Las Almas, your scores suddenly shot up to excellent, top of the scoreboard when you’ve consistently earned “great” scores. Your scores topping some of the folks who’ve nearly always scored higher than you, so of course the sudden improvement would catch some eyes. Eyes that you never wanted on you in the first place.

It started out with compliments from everyone, especially the Captain. Price slapping down a hand on your shoulder, holding a piece of paper with your weapon’s qualifications. A grin and a congratulations that burns. You accept his words with grace despite how undeserving it feels. You should’ve been doing this well a long time ago. Ghost offered you impressed nods, elbow bumps. His touch feels acidic and wrong, despite his positive undertones. Gaz’s handshakes and hugs, his words make your ears feel like they’re going to bleed. Soap’s money spent on celebratory drinks feels like wasted currency.

It went from compliments from your team and your other peers to harsh words, fists, and fights; to blood smeared on the sparring mat. 

Something is wrong and you’re not going to get away with hiding it away forever, Ghost thinks.

[rodolfoparras]

Pillow talk

Pairing: FTM! Peter B. Parker x Top Male Reader

Synopsis: In which Peter, a married man, gets off to the thought of being with someone other than his spouse

Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, emotional infidelity, cheating kink, pillow humping, masturbation, oral sex, Peter has a size kink, Peter being a bit of a pervert

A/n: as always pls excuse any mistakes I tried a new writing style here, also if you want you can listen to More Than Friends by Isabel LaRosa while reading this since it’s heavily inspired by it!

A tired sigh escapes Peter’s lips as his bones bleed into the sheets. The window’s cracked ajar, allowing cold autumn air to mingle with the smell of MJ’s perfume that’s lingering around in the room.

He’s stripped down to nothing but his tattered pink robe, searing skin exposed to the chilly sensation emitting from his wedding ring as it trails along the length of his body.

For the first time in a while Peter’s gotten some time alone.

MJ has taken Mayday for the day and left so that Peter could have the house to himself, claiming he’d been pent up for a while and supposedly needed a break.

Peter hadn’t argued against it but had instead taken the offer with grace since it’s true that he has been feeling pent up but not for the reason MJ thinks. Peter’s sure that if she knew the reason behind his recent behaviors she wouldn’t be so willing to help him.

For the last couple of weeks Peter’s been plagued with the realization that he didn’t hate his neighbor, not his next door neighbor because that man is a menace and Peter’s pretty sure the hate’s mutual.

Instead he’s come to the realization that he didn’t hate his neighbor on the floor below him, that neighbor being you.

At first he was sure that he hated you since you made his spider senses tingle, well at least that’s what he thought it was.

He’d first met you at a neighborhood block party. You had recently moved in or so he had heard and were more than eager to get acquainted with the neighbors for whatever reason.

You were lounging around in a lawn chair when he had first arrived with MJ and Mayday.

The poor thing threatened to give out under your weight but you paid it no mind as you entertained a conversation with a neighbor and nourished a beer in your hand.

When you rose to greet him, Peter noticed that you were a whole head taller than him so it was no wonder that you made his spider senses tingle.

He tried his best to ignore you but even when he couldn’t see you, he could smell you since you wore this stupid cologne that smelled stronger than anything MJ’s ever worn before and because of that he could always tell when you were lingering around.

If he thought that smelling and seeing you was bad then touching you was something else.

He’d purposely opted out of a handshake when you first greeted each other but that didn’t save his spider sense from going into overdrive after having your knees knock together while you were sat at the same table or having your elbows brush against each other while scooping up leftovers.

However even though you made his spider sense go off, Peter had quickly realized that you weren’t a threat, at least not a dangerous one.

You were friendly and always made sure to spark up a conversation with him, even when you'd be in a rush to something.

You’d go out your way to bring him any of his mail or packages that happened to be misplaced.

Hell you'd even baby sat Mayday a handful of times so it was safe to say you weren’t a threat. But for whatever reason Peter couldn’t seem to get you out of his head.

Especially after hearing your ever so polite voice protruding through his thin bedroom walls, your dirty words squeezing between his and Mj’s hushed conversations. Or seeing the way you basically engulfed whoever was in your arms but unlike the lawn chair they seemed to thrive from being in your embrace. And escaping the smell of your cologne turned out to be a hard feat since every other day someone would be prancing around in one of your shirts dozed in the smell of it.

He doesn’t even remember when he started making sure that he’d be the one to pick Mayday up from your house, just to see whatever lounge wear you’d be prancing around in that day and the bit of skin that always seemed to show through it.

He doesn’t remember when he started hoping that the mailman would misplace yet another letter or package just so that he could feel your calloused fingertips brushing against his as you handed him something.

He doesn’t even remember when he started biting his tongue just so he wouldn’t ask you who he had seen standing outside your door the previous night.

He shouldn’t be feeling like this. He has MJ and he has Mayday and as far as he knows he’s happy. He’s just pent up, like MJ had said.

It’s not like Peter and MJ don’t have sex. It’s just that she doesn’t do it for him, at least not anymore.

Every time they get intimate he’d have to fake an orgasm or jerk off after she’d gone to bed. Lately he’s even had to pretend to be asleep every time she tried to initiate something because he simply wasn’t up for it.

So he’d find other ways to entertain himself and one of the ways being with inappropriate thoughts of his neighbor.

And things kind of escalate from there not in the literal sense since you’re so fucking polite, wont even look at him twice, keeping a respectful distance to a man who has a kid and a wife.

But God Peter wishes that you did, so much so he imagines you pinning him to the bed, hip to hip, chest to chest, those strong arms and thighs caging him into the mattress

The tattered robe wrapped around his frame doesn’t compare to the way your body would feel on top of his. But he keeps it on anyway, closes his eyes and pretends that the hand leisurely dragging across his limbs is your body pushing down onto his.

He imagines the way your lips would slot together, hot breath washing over his cheek as you whisper dirty words to him.

A thumb finds his lips, teasingly tugging and taunting at the bottom lip. It feels nothing like your calloused fingertips but his tongue peaks past his lips, tasting the salty skin before sinking down on it.

He imagines how you’d tease and taunt him in that polite voice of yours that managed to whisper such dirty words, how you’d mock him for wanting to be fucked like a bitch in heat despite the wedding band digging into his skin, maybe you’d force him to say it just so that he hears it from his own lips or so that the whole neighborhood can hear how desperate he is.

He imagines you straddling his waist grinding into him while wearing nothing but your boxers, teasing him to point where he’s soaking through his own pair of underwear.

A hand slides down his chest, blunt nails dragging down his happy trail, only to stop at the fringe of curls atop of his cunt, tugging and taunting til he’s all worked up.

He imagines your long fingers thrusting into him , or making him finger himself while wearing his wedding band, prepping himself to be fucked by someone other than his spouse.

And God he’s already so wet, fingers easily coating in his arousal as he trails them up his cunt, and in that very moment he can't help but think how MJ never gets him like this.

But his fingers are not enough- this little fantasy of his is not enough but you’re too good to do anything about it so he rolls onto his stomach before propping the pillow between his legs, pretending it’s your face.

He imagines the bed creaking under your shared weight, and the way the smell of your cologne would engulf his senses. He imagines the way your calloused fingertips would sink into the supple skin of his thighs and the way your ever so polite voice would sound as you command him to properly sit down.

He starts moving slowly, rolling his hips cautiously, imagining the way your tongue would experimentally delve through his folds.

The pillow slides in between his folds, coarse fabric creating a steady pressure onto his engorged numb, not enough to overwhelm his senses but enough to send jolts of pleasure coursing through his body every time he moves his hips.

He imagines you wanting to take your time with him wanting to taste him, tongue licking a strip along his cunt up to his puffy clit where you’d continue to tease him until he’s begging and urging you to hurry before someone can find the two of you like this.

But you wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t care if anyone were to find you like this, hand slapping his ass in warning before you continued to do as you pleased.

His hand cups the globe of his cheek, much like the way you’d do it if you were with him, except his fingers feel nothing like yours. But the cold sensation from his ring as it slaps his searing skin sends sparks of pleasure coursing through his entire body and for one second it almost feels like you’re actually there with him.

The coarse fabric of the pillow case reminds him so much of your stubble and it’s so wrong but feels so right - the thought of being fucked by someone other than his wife as huffs and pants escape his lips, hips moving faster as he wanders back to his fantasy.

He imagines you having him so worked up to the point where Peter’s long forgotten about the fact that someone can just walk in on you two because the bed’s creaking and he’s loudly begging and pleading for you to stop teasing.

Eventually you'd take pity on him, showing him mercy by properly latching onto his puffy clit, eagerly suckling on it before tonguing his hole.

He adjusts his hips, and the angle in which the pillow hits his clit changes slightly, and intensifies the sensation along with it.

“Oh- oh fuck!” He squeals out, toes curling as he throws his head back.

He imagines the way you’d easily have him teetering on the edge of his release with Peter begging and pleading for you to let him finish.

He can almost taste it, can hear the Squelching sounds mingling with the sound of needy noises escaping his lips. He can even smell his arousal: strong and heady, knowing he’s probably stained the pillow under him and will need to wash it before MJ comes back but for now he can’t find it in himself to care.

He’s so close, needs just a bit more -and that’s when he picks up on the sound of your footsteps walking up the stairs, smells the scent of your cologne bleeding into the air.

You must be on your way to his apartment to bring yet another misplaced package.

And Peter knows it’s wrong but it feels so right, feels himself tip over the edge as you read what’s written on the parcel, out loud

“To Peter B. Parker, please handle with care”

[crispy-armpit]

✧ 𝖎'𝖒 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 ✧

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʀᴏᴄᴋꜱᴛᴀʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☆⋆｡🎧𖦹 °✩ 🎸⋆⸜♩

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: reminisce about your forgotten first meeting with Deimos 3 years ago. meanwhile, you've been invited to watch his concert after the previous events. (pt.2)

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰�� 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺, violence, implied stalking, reader gets called a bitch, (slight) sadism, kinda tame

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,495

⭒ a/n: dear lord i am simping for my own art... hope u all enjoy reading this! i'll be opening asks & make a short introduction in the next post ^^ ( yan jock makes an appearance here too!)

will you venture down this path?

where is he?

did I walk in the wrong direction?

am I lost?

... nope, this is the right place.

you are standing alone in a dark alleyway, looking around the location you agreed to meet your friend in. checking the virtual clock on your phone, you count the time you have left before you go on stage. 32 minutes.

time was ticking and he was still nowhere in sight. there's no way you could perform the duet alone. anxiously, you try texting your friend again.

You 》 17:28

bro where are u

i'm alr here

are u lost again

LIAM

liam

liam

liam

liam

liaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam

fuck it, i'm leaving him. alleys are never good news. ever since you entered the place, your stomach has been in knots and the back of your head was tingling. it's almost as if... someone's been watching you.

typing on the small screen, you tell him you're going to meet him behind the stage instead. you speed walk towards the end of the tunnel, relieved you were leaving this place. you almost reach the exit until a rough hand pulls on your wrist.

a gruff voice speaks, "hey, you dropped this."

SHIT, I'M GOING TO DIE—

without thinking, you instinctively clench your fists into a ball and punch the unknown 'assailant' on the nose— effectively causing him to bleed. the stranger gasps out various curse words as you turn to scream and run away.

"I'M SORRYYyyyy—"

knuckles still bruised from the impact, you try to hide them as best as you can from the crowd's attention. Liam had managed to arrive on time, seconds before the performance. he claimed to have come across an old friend on the way who was difficult to shake off. but that was all in the past, and he has yet to notice your injured knuckles.

currently, you are performing on the stage in front of a sea of people. with your friend on the acoustic guitar, you both sang a duet that sang of two lovers, a confession of how one felt incomplete without the other.

it was a popular song, so Liam insisted on it. you were glad he did because in the end, the happy crowd's applause rang loud across your ears. a sound you'll always love.

now off the stage, you and Liam decide to explore the festival's offerings. the spring festival at night is beautiful— lanterns clipped across the starry sky and flowers and people littering the area. you approach one of the food stalls that lined the streets, purchasing a sundae of your favourite flavour.

as you are about to pay, you rummage through your pockets and realise... your wallet is gone. did i leave it at home?! Liam seems to pick up on your situation as he pulls out his own wallet, "i'll pay for them." you thank him and promise to pay him back. "it's alright, you don't have to." he smiles.

suddenly, a loud voice approaches the both of you, "Oi, Lili! ya did great up there, man." you turn to see a group of four people heading your way who were all dressed head-to-toe in punk clothing and carrying band equipment. they must be a band. a slim man holding wooden drumsticks pats Liam on the back, and he shortly notices you.

"oh? hello there, mx. the name's Vern." he grins and offers you a handshake, to which you politely return.

"y/n. nice to meet you, Vern. I'm a friend of Liam's."

"a friend of Liam is a friend of mine, y/n!" Vern heartily laughs, "let me introduce you to the gang, y/n— of course, you've met me, the drummer. that lady with red hair is Kyra, the lead guitarist. the young-looking fellow with shit for brains is Astrid, our second guitarist. and finally, our beloved lead singer and bassist, D—"

you don't have time to react before your face is roughly grabbed by a hand larger than your head, cheeks squished. you try to pry your face away from the thick fingers of the unknown man, as you shakily look up at his furrowed eyes. he's seething, and you don't know why.

"it's you. fucking bitch."

you don't know what you've done to this man to warrant such a reaction, you've never even met him before!... right? you think back to earlier in the day when you punched the stranger from the alley. shit, it's him.

though muffled by his palms, you still manage to voice out an apology. for the first time in your life, you feel a sensation rushing through your blood. dread and terror. in the corner of your eyes, you spot Liam being held back by a concerned Vern and Astrid.

you desperately try to pull his hand off your face while repeating apologies, but it's useless. he's too strong. the tall stranger continues to stare at you and you swear he was enjoying this. if not for the sick glint in his eyes or the soft panting from his pierced lips, then maybe for the light blush dusting his cheeks.

after what felt like hours, he finally lets go. you immediately massage your aching jaw and cheeks at his release. the stranger scoffs and hands you a familiar item... it's your wallet! "...found this in the alley. you throw a good punch." you gently take the small pouch off his hands and thank him.

a ghost of a smirk morphs on his face before he grunts and walks past you. the others instantly follow behind him like baby ducks trailing their mother, but not without giving you a sympathetic look. Vern checks up on you before joining his group, "woah, he's never spared anyone before. sorry about him, but i hope you'll still come to watch us?"

Liam, who is no longer held back, runs to your side and inspects your face. "are you alright?? fuck, I should teach him not to mess with you!" he angrily shouts. you're still recovering from shock. but that doesn't stop you from thinking how nice the stranger's smile looked. "do you want to go home? i'll drive you bac—"

with newfound motivation, you're able to speak again, "no, i'm fine. let's go watch the next show!"

you and Liam stand in front of the stage, somehow having managed to get past the current of people. there are way more people than before, and you notice some of them are holding signs. confused, you turn to the person next to you and ask her, "hey, what's with all the people? is a celebrity coming?"

she looks at you astounded, "you seriously don't know? Ares is performing next! they're like, all over social media right now." Ares? you don't think you've heard any singer with that name before. before you can ask who they are, waves of screams fill your ears as 4 pairs of feet walk on stage. you look back at Liam to see him clapping for the band, following his gaze, you accidentally lock eyes with a pair of heterochromatic eyes.

he acknowledges your presence with a lazy lift of his brow and faces the crowd again. this time, the audience shouts in union.

ARES!

ARES!!

ARES!!!

the electrifying sound of a guitar and drums booms through the speakers. the ground vibrates along with the rhythm, as your heartbeat follows along. the song begins, but it's not until you hear the deep bass of the leader's voice do you feel the aching throb of your core.

(R U Mine? - Arctic Monkeys)

I'm a puppet on a string

holy shit.

She's a silver linin', lone ranger ridin' through an open space...

his voice is intoxicating.

In my mind, when she's not right there beside me

I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be

your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest.

And satisfaction feels like a distant memory

And I can't help myself

All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?"

yes.

Well, are you mine?

Are you mine?

Are you mine? Oh, ah

i'm yours.

his deep voice that was once laced with anger and malice— now brings your own heart to tears. you could only think about what was going through his mind to sing a beautiful song in such a wrenching manner. and on that day, you swore to one day bring someone to tears with your voice, just like he had with you.

but what you did not know was that you'd already done the exact same thing to Deimos earlier that day. and for that, he'd follow you down every road until there comes a time when your paths meet again.

back in the present, you've been forced invited to watch Deimos' latest concert. like before, you sat at the very front row, right in front of his assigned position. the only difference from then was his lovestruck eyes that would never leave your figure.

in the end, he was yours.

[choccorin]

meet-cute !

tags. fluff. sakura haruka x gender-neutral!reader.

cw. none!

a/n. it's my first time writing so feel free to give your opinions on my mailbox. :]

“c'mon, just get down here you damn cat. ” sakura grumbles while trying to reach for the hissing kitten on the tree branch.

when sakura decided to go on an early morning patrol, he passed by this meowing cat that was stranded on a tree branch in a playground. sakura felt bad for the small kitten so he decided to help it, only thing is, sakura isn't really good with cats.

which led to this laughable situation. sakura has his arms reached out for the kitten but it just keeps hissing at him. if suo and the others see him like this, they definitely won't let him live this down, he thought.

he wants to leave it but he's worries that it might get hurt when it jumps down, can kittens get hurt after jumping off a tree?? he said in his mind.

begrudgingly, he climbs up the tree and tries to reach for the kitten, who scoots away from him while hissing.

as you were walking on your way to school, you see a black and white hair colored boy climbing a tree, and he seems to be reaching for a kitten.

“is he crazy? he's definitely scaring it more by reaching for it like a claw from a claw machine” you softly scoffed.

sakura finally manages to grab a hold of the kitten but it suddenly jumped off his grasp and on to his face, scratching it, which causes him to fall down the tree.

“ oh my god, are you okay!?” you yelled while rushing to him.

you crouched down and looked down at the boy who's covering his face while mumbling curses,

“ uhm, are you okay .. sir?” you asked

sakura took his hands away from his face and opened his eyes, he looked at you with the sun hitting the back of your head. he got surprised on seeing a person so close to his face that he abruptly sits up, causing the two of you to head bump each other.

“ow! what is wrong wit- oh my god, you're face!” you yelped while holding your forehead

“huh?! what's wrong with my face?!” sakura looked at you

“it's bleeding!” you reached for the mini first-aid in your bag, “c'mon, i'll disinfect it.” you reached for his wrist and pull him on to a near bench.

both of you are now sitting on a bench, and you're busy disinfecting the scratches on his face.

why is his face so red? does he have a fever or something? you thought looking at the boy who was as red as a tomato.

“do you have a fever?” you asked him

“n-no .. ” he mumbled, looking away

“okay then ..” you smiled, “there, i'm done disinfecting it, now i just need to add some ointment, okay?”

sakura nods, why are you being so nice time, he's a random stranger for god's sake, he thinks while looking at you preparing the ointment. he wanted to deny you treating him but you were gripping on his wrist and looking at him with your pretty eyes that he just couldn't reject you.

“this might sting a bit” you say as you gently add ointment to the scratches, “and .. i'm done!”

“you'll be okay now” you smiled at him which causes sakura to blush even more.

“thank you, i guess ..” he mumbles

“you're welcome, oh and i'm (your name) by the way, nice to meet you!” you reach out your hand to give him a handshake.

“i'm s-sakura haruka” he hesitantly gives you a handshake, “pleasure to meet you.” he blushes.

sakura .. what a pretty name, it suits his pretty face, you thought. you reach for your phone and looked at the time, shoot i'm gonna be late.

you packed your things and stood up, “i'll be going now, get well soon, sakura!” you beamed at him, waving while jogging away

“y-yeah .. bye” he waved, still sitting on the bench.

i hope i get to meet them again, you both thought to yourselves.

afterwards, sakura went to school, and his friends were shocked to see his face. nirei kept asking him if he's okay, while the others just laughed at him as he explains what happened. (he leaves out the part where you helped him, he's shy.)

[piperlivingdeliberately]

Blushing, Crushing, and Totally F*cked!

Here’s the second part!! <3

Summary: We all know and love loser!Hazel, so this is just my take on top of the dozens of other wonderful little headcanons/blurbs about her being nervous around the reader <3 Reader is a cheerleader because I'm a slut for cool girl/weird little freak dynamic.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: fem reader (she/her pronouns used), suggestive themes/thoughts (no smut but mentions of smut), violence, blood, swearing, etc. 18+

Hazel had had a crush on you from afar for years, but she never expected it to be any more than that. You were a beautiful, popular girl who she stole glances at in the hallways. Now, however, you were standing across from her in the gym, cheering on PJ and Josie as they jabbed at each other in the name of feminism.

Hazel winced to herself when PJ had you step into the circle to spar with Sylvie after her own fight. She couldn't bear the thought of your precious face being in any pain. Yet when the whistle was blown, she felt her jaw drop in surprise at your quick, unforgiving punches and skilled dodges. Her stomach did flips when you finally let Sylvie get a hit in and your perfect grin was stained with crimson.

After the fight, you returned to your spot on the outside of the circle, but this time standing next to her.

"Nice job," she said to you, hesitant to look directly at you for fear of staring.

"Thanks, Hazel." You wiped the blood from your lips as you flashed her a friendly smile. Hazel's fears of being distracted were confirmed as she watched your mouth move again. "I think they're talking to you."

She jerked her head to face the others, blush warming her cheeks as she met Isabel in the center of the ring. They circled each other reluctantly, both too sweet to swing the first punch. Hazel began to survey her opponent, thinking about the best move to make, but her eyes were pulled away as she saw you standing on the outer ring. You gave her a quick nod of encouragement and another smile, pulling her focus away enough to allow Isabel ample time to crack Hazel square in the nose.

The fight turned out to be well-matched following Hazel's temporary lapse in focus. The pair returned to their places, smiling at the cheers around them after their polite finishing handshake. Hazel stared at her feet, shy from all the praise until your shoulder bumped hers.

"That was sick," you said. She thanked you, shaking her head modestly which caused her nose to begin bleeding again.

"Shit." She pinched her nostrils and threw her head back to face the ceiling.

"Whoa, whoa, no," you warned her. "You have to tip your head forward to stop the bleeding. Here." You gripped her hair gently and guided her to face downward, letting the excess blood drip onto the gym floor. Hazel wasn't sure if her lightheadedness was caused by the hemorrhaging or the soft circles drawn by your thumb on the back of her head.

"Feel better?" you asked in earnest.

"Yeah," she lied, bravely meeting your eyes as she wiped the last of the dried blood. "Definitely. Thank you."

"Of course," you replied, deciding maybe it was finally time to remove your hand from her hair. Hazel shrank in disappointment at the lack of contact and was relieved to hear that the club was dismissed. She rushed out of the gymnasium toward her car. She had a long night of trying to forget how good your perfume smelled ahead of her.

...

Hazel thought she might have been dreaming when she walked into Mr. G's class and saw your hand waving her over to sit beside you. She looked around, searching for someone wearing a football uniform or a set of high heels who you might have been waving to instead. When you locked eyes with her again, flashing that knee-weakening smile, she finally walked to you.

"Good morning!" you said brightly as she sat.

"Hi," she breathed nervously, almost sounding like she was asking a question. She kept her eyes glued to Mr. G and the magazine he was reading, afraid that if she looked at you she would break whatever spell had caused this moment.

"I like your vest." She almost didn't hear you, assuming you had been talking to someone else.

"Me?" she asked, finally facing you.

You giggled at her uncertainty. "Yes, you." Your thumb plucked the fabric from her shoulder for a moment before you smoothed it back down against the white shirt she wore underneath it. "It looks good on you."

"Oh. Oh, um--" she stuttered, trying to look anywhere but your eyes that stared at her with unfaltering intensity. "Thank you. I like your skirt."

"Thanks! Actually," Hazel felt her breath catch in her throat when you interrupted yourself to raise the skirt's already short hem to your upper thigh. "It's a skort! It has shorts built in!" She found your excitement adorable and couldn't help but laugh along with you until Mr. G spoke up.

Class droned on for a painful ten minutes before the bell rang. You waved goodbye to Hazel as you caught up with Isabel and Brittany, leaving her behind with PJ and Josie.

"What the hell was that?" PJ smacked the back of Hazel's head.

"Ow! What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you two eye-fucking each other for the first five minutes of class."

"What?" Hazel jolted out of her seat. "That didn't happen! She was just talking to me and I--"

"'Oh, that looks so good on you, Hazel! Look at my skort and how it perfectly drapes over my luscious thighs! Don't you just want to stick your hand between--'" PJ was cut off by Josie's frantic protests.

"What PJ means is that you were obviously flirting," she explained. "We just want to know when this all started."

"There isn't a this," Hazel retorted. "She's ridiculously gorgeous and probably getting banged by some jerk on the football team while I spend every waking hour trying not to stare at her like a stalker!"

"It's okay, relax." Josie tried to verbally soothe Hazel's now rapid breathing. "We'll think of something to help you. For now just--"

"Sorry!" Your voice and sudden reappearance made the three girls jump. "I forgot my bag." You scooped it up, waving goodbye to Hazel once more.

"Have-- have fun with your skort!" she shouted after you, thanking every higher power that you had already let the door close behind you and you most likely didn't hear her.

Hazel buried her face in her hands, groaning in defeat. "Oh, dude," Josie said. "You're totally fucked."

...

The fight club had never felt so far away for Hazel, so she let out a deep sigh of relief when she joined her friends in the gym. She mustered the courage to give you a shy wave when you walked in from the opposite entrance. Her face warmed with a smile when you excitedly returned the gesture. God, how could you be so sweet? She pondered this question until PJ called the meeting to order.

"Let's get this shit started, fuckers." The club's leader eyeballed everyone, sizing them up. "You!" she pointed at Hazel, who stiffened, praying that PJ wouldn't do what she thought she was about to do. "And... you!" PJ's finger drew a direct line to your face, which smiled politely as you met your quivering opponent.

"Go easy on me, please?" Hazel attempted a joke. She felt lighter than air when she heard you laugh it.

"Don't worry," you said. "I wouldn't want to mess up your pretty face."

Hazel's jaw dropped to the floor, making it all the more painful when your fist connected with her chin. She stumbled backward, eyes raking over your figure as she pretended to plan her attack. She watched as your foot stepped forward, properly anticipating your second punch. She dodged your hand, using her own to grip your shoulders and send both of you to the ground.

She almost forgot that you were supposed to be fighting when she saw you on the floor. Your waist caged between her legs, you wriggled your arms in a feeble attempt to escape. Your hair was sprawled around your head, an angel halo that framed your red and panting face perfectly. Hazel couldn't help but let her mind wander to how you might look if you were lying beneath her in a different sort of circumstance. Her trance was broken when you spoke up.

"Shit," you breathed. "You're really strong, Hazel." The girl could have sworn she detected a hint of flirtation in your tone. She didn't have time to think about it, though. The compliment had caused her knees to weaken enough that you could slot your own knee between hers, flipping over until you were the one pinning her. Your leg remained between her thighs and Hazel only hoped that you couldn't feel how hot she had grown in that spot.

"Not strong enough, I guess, huh?" she asked you. Your expression was triumphant at the jubilant shouts and claps surrounding you.

"I guess not." The fight was over, but you stayed on top of her. Your hair tickled her face and your mouth was close enough that she could feel your breath. If she inched forward just a bit--

"Hell yeah, bitches!" PJ celebrated the dynamic spar. "That's how it's done! I want to see all of you whores getting that down and dirty from now on." PJ not-so-subtly winked at Hazel.

After she picked herself up, Hazel found herself unable to shake the feeling of your hands on her chest, your hair on her face, your knee between her legs. When you met her eyes from across the circle and shot her a wink, she knew that she would most definitely never, ever be able to shake that feeling.

At least not until it happened again.

...

Leaving Mr. G's class gave Hazel a nice break in the day. She was able to stop at her locker, grab a snack, and head to her science class. Science was the one subject that truly interested Hazel. It was the only one that kept her focus entirely. She was completely enthralled by everything it encompassed, and of course, she could never be distracted by your breathtaking smile or heart-melting giggle. Walking into the classroom, she looked forward to a blissful period where she wasn't plagued by images of you and your body and...

You. You were sitting at the lab table where she usually sat. You straightened your back when she walked in, waving at her enthusiastically.

"Hi!" you greeted her as she took her seat. "I just transferred into this class. The teacher told me you didn't have a lab partner yet, so it worked out perfectly!"

"What a fun coincidence," Hazel muttered nervously, wondering how she was supposed to concentrate on her favorite subject with you leaning over the lab table like that.

"So, our first lab is about heart rate." You detailed the lab to her with so much confidence that it intimidated Hazel. She was enthralled by your knowledge on the cardiac system, so enthralled that she found her eyes drifting toward where your heart rested behind your cleavage. "What we need to do is take each of our heart rates when resting, and tomorrow we'll take them in different states like exercising."

"Sounds good." She pulled her eyes away from your breasts, wanting to punch herself for ogling you. Thankfully, you must not have noticed as you leaned forward even more to grab the heart rate monitors you would be using. Your hair brushed past Hazel's cheek until she was enveloped in the delicious scent of you.

"Whoops, sorry." You tucked away your sweet-smelling hair into a ponytail. "How about we do you first?"

"Do me?" Hazel questioned, having been distracted by how pretty your face looked with your hair pulled back.

"Let's get your heart rate first," you explained, giggling at the blush that sprouted on your lab partner's cheeks.

"Right, right," she scolded herself before pointing out her wrist to the monitor you held. You grabbed her hand to move it closer to the reader, but Hazel held her breath when you didn't let go even after the device started beeping.

"Hmm," you sighed. "Your heart rate is super fast. Maybe this monitor is broken." You hit the device against your leg a couple of times to jolt it back to life. You seemed unsatisfied when it read the same results after a second round against Hazel's wrist. "Maybe we'll get a more accurate read against the pulse on your neck."

Before Hazel could process your next move, you pushed her hair back and stuck the monitor on the most sensitive part of her neck. She inhaled sharply at the sudden contact, eyes burning holes into the table to avoid looking into yours.

"Jesus, Hazel. Your resting heart rate is 120 BPM. Do you feel okay?"

Your concern warmed her heart. "Yeah, I'm totally fine. I feel completely normal." She looked at you, feeling her heart speed up even more as your gorgeous eyes bore into hers.

"What, do I make you nervous or something?" you teased her.

Hazel felt like she was seconds away from passing out. "What? No! I'm not-- why would you-- it's not like I--" her sputtering was cut off by your beautiful laugh again.

"I'm just messing with you, Haze." You grazed her arm, still laughing quietly. "I'm going to head to the bathroom. Try to take some deep breaths so you can calm down before I come back."

Still in disbelief, she watched as you glided out of the classroom. She didn't think she had blinked once since you touched her neck. She pried her gaze away from the door and hid her face in her palms. This was becoming much more than a hallway crush.

"Oh, dude," she said to herself. "I am totally fucked."

...

Author's Note: I hope you all liked my first little blurb! I am a horny little freak so I most definitely plan to write more for my girl Hazel, specifically smut because duh. I had so much fun writing this so please send me requests! I would love to hear what you guys want to read more of. Thanks!

[misshugs]

It'll be alright || Colby Brock

[inspired] "feels like i'm always apologizing for feeling."

[req by anon] At the end of the day, it seems that the ones you least expect are the ones that are always by your side at your worst.

warnings: shy/introvert!reader, mentions of self-abandonment, angst, self/degrading, cursing, anxiety, hurt/comfort?

a/n: i'll prolly do the banner soon enough, also not proofread at all so if there's something that sounds.. weird, my bad ;; i'll fix it eventually

word count: 4.6k [u n e d i t e d]

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You knew it wasn't quite healthy for you disregard your own feelings like this, but you got so used to it.

You hid them so well at times, you feared you weren't even being honest with yourself.

Being a people pleaser wasn't something you wanted to do, but somehow managed to end up being. You never really wanted to make people upset, so you tried your best to help out as much as you could whenever you were able to.

Turning out like this also lead to friends that weren't really there for you, but you were always there for them.

You always were.

Even when they made fun of you, whenever they asked you for so many favours you knew you weren't going to get back, you were always there. You persisted in this so called "friendship" merely because they seemed to actually like hanging out with you.

At least it's what you thought at the time.

And honestly, who could blame you? Although it was most certainly a toxic friendship, they genuinely added you to most conversations. It wasn't as if you were only there to fill up the background most of the time.

Right?

"Hey babes, would you mind buying us some drinks?"

"Buying? Soph, I'm not even drinking tonight, I-"

"Really? You're going to do this to us? After we've invited your ass here? You're really trying to make us look bad?" She spat back, making you nervous.

It's all too familiar.

This has happened too many times for your comfort, and it always seemed to work in their favour; even when you tried to avoid it.

"N-no! I'm just saying that you could-" She put a hand infront of you.

"Shush. God, you're making my ears bleed." She whined before getting closer to your face. "Look, you go over there and ask for five shots of tequila, m'kay? Be a good one for me tonight, it also might improve your own reputation so, you know, stop talking and start moving honey. Tap tap." Her cunning smile and slight push on your shoulder made your heart race in an abnormal speed.

You really didn't want to. You really shouldn't, actually. But they were your friends, weren't they? You're doing this because they're friends.

Yeah, well. Keep telling yourself that lie.

Walking towards the bar and waiting for the drinks, there was this guy waiting right beside you. He looked at you with an amused smirk.

"Five? That's impressive."

"They're not for me." You responded with a half smile.

"Not even one?" He raised a brow, gaining a slight shake of your head as a response. "Sucks. Can I buy you one then?"

You look back at him, now with an amused expression yourself. Taking out his card and giving it to the barista before even letting you pull out your wallet, you looked at his deep, blue eyes.

"Bill's on me this time. Looks like you need a little break." He whispered, a small wink quickly after.

"Well, thank you, kind stranger." You said, taking all of the shots with you and looking back at him.

"Colby." He answered, trying to give you a handshake only to see your hands full and laugh. "Right."

You giggled. "I'm Y/n. Thank you again, Colby." And so, you walked away.

Sam, walking towards Colby after watching his obvious intend of flirting with you, putting his hand on his shoulder and said while looking at you walk away.

"You should've helped her dude."

"Ah, shit."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

"God, I can't believe I still invite you to these, you're so ungrateful." She sobbed, "After all you've done to us I still invite you regardless, and this is how you repay us? Your friends?"

You paused, looking slightly down while the dramaqueen infront of you began fanning her eyes and looking up, trying to not ruin her perfect makeup with her fake tears. You tried to restrain your own feelings, closing your hand into a fist, feeling yourself getting frustrated by the second.

The word friends ached in your heart for the very first time, and you knew it wasn't a good sign. "Sorry." You whispered, basically apologizing for feeling. Again.

In the end, you were still too shy to try and confront yourself to her. You knew you would lose, even though you've already created a million different ways of repelling every single one of her insults.

She was too predictable, too easy to contradict. But she had something you didn't.

Confidence.

Maybe if it weren't for the dozens of people that could be staring straight through you, you might be able to have a chance. Even then, you knew better. You get nervous too easily to try and spat back shit to this princess. Slowly but surely, you were starting to lose hope in this so called friendship you had with her and her other dogs.

Or maybe it was already gone, you just didn't want to admit it to yourself.

You were tired.

The stress, the anxiety that was draining you was too much. It wasn't worth it, and you knew it.

What made you keep going? Was it because you were comfortable? Did you not want to try something new? Were you too accustomed to their presence that it made it hard to walk away? Yeah, most likely.

"I can't with you today. You're such a meanie." Soph argued, turning away. "Do whatever you fucking want. Get lost or whatever, I'm not taking you home." She walked away with her group. Their judgemental glares were enough to carve a hole in your heart.

It wasn't only them, but the people that got a glimpse of the situation began murmuring. The feeling of being watched, judged and laughed at by strangers. An unbearable, overwhelming feeling that stopped you in place. You were feeling yourself loose air, your hands shaky at the mere thought and paranoia you were collapsing yourself with.

On the mere edge of tears, you felt a hand on your shoulder, making you jump in surprise. "Oh, my bad." They laughed. A familiar male voice released you from the thoughts. You looked at his face. Colby. "Didn't mean to scare you. Saw you all alone so I passed by to say hello. You doing okay?" He smiled.

Somehow, that smile is all you needed. Your eyes fluttered while you fixated your vision on his pretty face. You smiled back. "Yeah, yeah. Doing good." You tried to compose yourself once again.

Surprisingly, it was easy because of him. His jokes, flirty comments and pretty smile made you completely forget how you were on the edge of a panic attack barely a few hours ago.

"I'll be honest with ya. Last time? You made me so shy that I was going to ask for your number then completely forgot up until it was already too late." He laughed, so contagious that it made you giggle back. "Would you mind giving me a chance of texting you once in a while? Of course, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, sure, I don't mind." You gave him your number. A part of you hoping it wasn't yet another prank that would make you break into despair, but at the same time, you wanted to believe. You still had hope; not everyone is bad. Right?

After passing numbers, you notice the time in your phone. "Ah, shit. I should be leaving, it's too late." You stood up from your seat, fixing yourself up.

"Oh, well, are you driving?" He asked, standing up after you.

"Oh... um. I guess I'll have to call an uber, since my... friend will probably be staying." You mumbled slightly, remembering that bitter memory from not so long ago.

"Mind if I drive you home then?" A soft smile on his face; a sincere one. You looked at him, dazed for a moment. "...Is... Is that a yes?"

"Oh, uh... are you sure? I wouldn't want to bother you." You respond quickly.

"Bother me? Not at all. You've been my light of the party tonight." He laughs at his own statement. "Come on, let's get you home, sweetheart." He followed, putting his hand at your upper back, walking you towards the exit.

You didn't argue about it. In fact, you preferred to leave as quickly as possible, and he was giving you that chance. It was nice, it felt nice to have what you wanted for a change, even if it was as simple as leaving a party sooner than later.

After an annoyingly quick ride back home, you thanked him prefusely before walking back into your appartment.

Tonight took a toll on you emotionally; feeling dread and such a big pleasure at the same time. After a much needed shower and a midnight snack, you heard your phone.

A text? Who would even text you this late at night? You started questioning if it was Soph or one of the other girls, only to soothe the rising stress when you saw the text from a new contact.

Hey, it's Colby. Hoping you didn't give me a wrong number

It made you chuckle while responding right away.

I'm not the type to do that, don't worry

Oh, I'm glad, would've been heartbroken if you did

Did you go back to the party?

Nah, went straight home. The friend that was with me said he was going to stay longer but I went home

Why did you not go?

The life of the party left

Who?

You?

You rolled your eyes at the comment. This cheeky bastard.

You loved it.

Talking for a few more minutes, your eyelids began to close on their own. Your sleep schedule catching up to you.

It didn't take long until you fell asleep.

After some weeks, your supposed friends stopped texting you. One or two parties where you were left uninvited. It didn't bother you much, but at the same time, you were thinking of what you were missing; overthinking around the way it would've turned out great.

But also how wrong it could've been.

It was almost 11 pm, you've been watching the stories of your friends having fun without you. Nothing new, until a text from Colby made it change.

Haven't seen you at the party

Your heart ached. Someone expecting you was something... new. You were blaming yourself, even though it wasn't really your fault.

Kinda sick. Couldn't go.

Aw, that sucks. Hope you get well soon

It felt wrong to do this, but at the same time, nothing new to you. Trying to cover up the true feelings behind the kind smile you always put up.

Thank you.

A couple of minutes passed before another answer came through.

Party's getting boring, wish you were here

Trying to hype me up, Colby?

Is it working?

A little.

You smiled at his small attempts. He's been texting you enough to know there's been a distance between your group of friends. Some personal information between the both of you getting mixed up through conversations, getting to know eachother in a more personal level.

Him, having such an odd job being a 'ghosthunter' and (somehow worst, or maybe better?) he had proof of it. You, on the other hand, another slave to capitalism. Even worse, a slave to a more toxic relationship than your ex boyfriend. Your friends.

Usually, you wouldn't be the type to open up like this; but one thing turned into another and now here we are. A stranger that knows you better than every single person that's passed by your life, merely because he's asked the right questions at the right time. A master with words.

Sooo can we be honest then? Are you actually sick?

I'm impressed at how well you've come to know me.

Figured. You coming to the party then?

I wasn't invited.

How come? I'm inviting you right now

What?

I can take a plus one with me

I want you to be my plus one

…are you serious? I'm not even like, ready or anything.

Are you even sure? I'm not fun.

Take your time sweetheart. Tell me when I'm able to pass by

Also what do you mean you're not fun? Take that back right now

Your cheeks felt warm. You've come to learn to read emotions though text as the time passed by; knowing when you were really not wanted or knowing when somebody else was interested in things outside your circle.

This, however. These texts from this... guy. They felt genuine.

…

Thank you

It's really no biggie, I want you to come with me (if you want, of course)

So put on something sexy

For the party, of course

You chuckled at the comment. You weren't able to fully comprehend if he was being serious or just as flirtatious as always. But you didn't mind. Right now, you were about to go into a party. Why? God knows.

Maybe you do too, but you wouldn't like to admit it.

Not now, at least.

Standing up and walking toward your wardrobe, you skimmed through it. What should you wear? Something normal as always? Is it even worth it to try and switch it up for a change? You never really tried to make yourself look appealing, there was no reason to anyways.

But this time? Fuck it. It was different. You weren't going with them, you were going with him. You sighed, pushing yourself to wear the most decent looking dress you could find in your closet; fitted with some high heels the same color of the dress.

Finishing off your makeup, you saw your phone light up.

I'm here, take your time

Panicked, you replied.

Thought you were going to wait for me to finish??

I am?

Not in front of my house???

We can leave right away when you're done

Stop arguing, I don't mind waiting here

Come inside at least

Don't mind if I do then

Sighing, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You weren't going to take longer than 5 minutes, but you felt bad leaving him outside. Walking towards your front door, you gulped down the nerves and opened up the door.

He was as fine as always, looking down at his phone before raising his head and looking at your face. His mouth opened slightly, unable to move for a moment.

You were stunning in his eyes. Looking at you up and down, he had to catch his own breath. How was he this lucky to be able to be next to this beauty?

"Is it... too weird? I'm not the type to commonly use these type of clothes..." You almost whispered, doubting your looks.

"You're kidding." He was able to respond. "I've never seen someone look this beautiful." You smiled and rolled your eyes. "I'm serious. Are you seriously not aware."

"Not aware of what?" You asked, a slight frown on your face due to the confusion.

"Of how gorgeous you look?" The frown quickly turned into a surprised look, your cheeks turning red at the revelation.

Hugging slightly your door to try and find comfort, you looked away from his graze. "Get in, I'm still not done." You said and be obliged. Closing the door behind him, you told him to get comfortable while you finished yourself up.

It didn't take you long, fortunately. A few fixes around the eyes and you were basically done. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you were satisfied with yourself this time. You didn't feel forced, heck, you felt beautiful. Perhaps it was Colby's comments that affected your mental state, but whatever it was, it felt good.

Walking back towards the man in your living room, you heard him whistle at you, which made you laugh.

"I'm gonna have so many death stares walking with you tonight."

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Nervousness filled you up when you walked inside the party. Holding onto Colby's arm, he could feel your hand shaking. He gave you a reassuring look, one that said "Everything's going to be fine."

And you tried to believe it as much as you could.

Whatever you seemingly expected from the night somehow turned into the greatest parties you've ever experienced.

Perhaps it was because you were with Colby's friends instead of yours.

Maybe it was the fact that you were actually connected into their conversation instead of being pushed out. Being listened to instead of ignored and getting talked over.

Was this what it felt to be having fun? You almost forgot this was what it's supposed to be like. It felt nice.

"I'll be right back. Gotta to to the bathroom." You said standing up from your seat.

"I'll go and get some drinks in the meantime. Anyone wants a refill?" Colby asked, nodding at the requests he was receiving. You smiled at him before walking away.

You were quick in finding the bathroom, finishing what you had to do soon enough and getting out of the room.

Before you started walking towards the group, you got pushed away and in the center of a bunch of girls, smirking at you. Judging you. Your heart sank as fast as you recognized just one of them.

"Who do we have here?" Soph teased, a sly smirk on her face. "Isn't it too late for you? Thought you would've been at home. It's past your bedtime, isn't it?" Laughs were heard from the group surrounding you.

No, no, no. This wasn't a good time for this. You were having fun, you were doing so good! You've never felt better at a party and now all of it was destroyed.

"It's none of your business, Soph." You could hear a gasp after your response. A dramatic, opened mouthed expression on her face.

"Oh, so, now that you've found a new stupid little group of freaks now you think you can talk back at me?" She spat out.

You looked slightly to the side. "You just called yourself a freak." You thought, unable to actually argue back. You felt a hand on your chin, making you look at her directly to her eyes.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." She demanded. You gulped, trying to compose yourself as hard as you could just to not shiver under her. You had to be strong, to proof to her you were better.

But it was hard.

"Think your stupid little face will be fixed with a bit of makeup? Ha." She scoffed, looking at your whole outfit this time. "Someone as ugly as you won't be fixed by a little change of outfit. Not even if that friend of yours tells you otherwise. Or maybe not a friend? Who knows? It's not like he's interested in you anyways." She grinned, roughly moving your face towards a specific corner of the group.

And there you saw it, it was Colby. With another girl. Your heart sank, for some reason. Your breath escaped your lips as it got shaky, eyes quickly watering when you saw her get a bit too close to his face while he, with some drinks on his hands, was unable to do anything.

Why were you feeling like this anyways? It's not like you guys were something, were you? Why did it hurt this much? Your expression softened at the illusion you had made so quickly. So dumb, of course he wasn't interested.

"What's wrong? Did you silly little confidence already shatter? That was so easy." She almost sounded dissapointed. A push on your back was enough for you to fall onto the ground. It's not like you weren't about to anyways, your legs were already shaking at the mere thought that everything that has been going on was a mere lie.

A setup.

You heard laugher, whilst barely holding yourself up by the palms of your hands. "How pathetic. You shouldn't have even come. Now you're just being a bother to another group, another dead weight."

And they were right, you believed they were right. You believed them so easily that it was almost funny.

You could hardly breathe, the tears dwelling onto your eyes as a thick blurriness covered your vision. You couldn't hold it anymore, the stress... it all came to the surface quick enough. The music dissipating into the distance as you heard yourself breathing heavily; the only sound you could focus on.

The sound of you losing your mind. Your heart pounding hard. Too hard, perhaps. It ached. You could feel the frown on your face while the tears kept on flowing.

Come on, you were better than this. Why are you acting this way? You can easily act neutral like always, smiling, ignoring all of these feelings.

But breathing was hard, the murmurs of other people being only that; whispers you could barely understand. You felt like you had no control of yourself, like you were trapped in this center of humiliation of people you once called friends.

But they never intended to be your friends from the start; they were only using you.

This wasn't the first time either. Over and over again you were considered the center of humiliation of these people, the only difference is that this time was the last straw that broke off the mask you tried to so desperately to keep on.

A pair of hands began shaking you, trying to make you stand up from the floor. You couldn't pay attention to who it was, as you were busy enough dealing with the sudden lost of oxygen.

Maybe even a lost of self.

Barely able to walk due to your legs feeling numb from the unbearable feeling in your chest, whoever it was helped you out and moved your arm around their neck. You're not exactly sure what happened, but before you could even get yourself together, you noticed you were outside.

Still breathing heavily, finally, you looked at the figure that helped you out.

Colby.

It only made your panic attack worse. You started crying harder when you saw his face. The pain of being a fool was covered in your face.

"Hey, come on, breathe." He tried to give you your space. Far enough to let you calm down, close enough to hold you up. But he ended up hugging you closer when he noticed how broken you seemed.

You didn't hesitate and held him tighter. "I'm sorry, I.. I... I sh-shouldn't..." You sniffed, trying to find the right words to say. You felt the urge to try and explain yourself to him. Your vision was blurry and finding yourself choking with your own words.

"Let it all out, don't worry. I'm here for you, okay?" He whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his hands caressing your back as he spoke. "Breathe. Calm down your breathing first, sweetheart. It'll be alright."

Shaking in his arms, you found yourself comforted by his scent. Breathing in his cologne felt almost hypnotizing. His way of calming you down absolutely worked. For the most part. Sniffing, you tried to explain yourself, trying to argue to yourself that these feelings shouldn't have appeared, it was all a mere accident.

But your cries were more than enough to make him understand at least half of the situation. He was sure it was your friends, but for some reason you were pleading for forgiveness to him. "Hey... you don't owe me an explination, yeah?" He wiped a few lost tears through the run down mascara and cupped your head in his hands, smiling back at you. "Want me to take you home?"

You were barely able to respond with a little nod. It was all he needed.

It was a decently quiet ride. Colby took it upon himself to try and make you feel alright, holding onto your shaky hand and softly caressing it.

When he parked infront of your home, as he was about to walk out of the car, you stopped him. Looking back at you, he understood and sat back down. You didn't want to go inside, or maybe you didn't want to stand up overall, which he didn't mind if it meant for you to feel alright.

With your shivering lips and puffy eyes, you sniffed whilst wiping some dry tears from your cheeks. The stress has calmed down and you're able to breathe normally once again.

He was patient with you. He didn't try and make you speak up or got tired, he waited. Waited until you said something or wanted to move.

"Sorry." You finally spoke. He kept his eyes on your eyes, waiting for you to elaborate. "I was... a mess, it shouldn't have happened." You wiped some tears before looking at him. He seemed... confused.

"What do you mean it shouldn't have happened?" He asked.

"You're just... trying to have fun while I'm here just... ruining your night. I told you I wasn't fun. You could've found someone else to go with, I-"

"Who said I wanted someone else?" He interrupted.

It made you quiet down for a few seconds before talking back. "Well, I mean..." You sniffed. "You were... with... there was someone else, I just thought... you just... wanted someone... to... um... I don't know... hang around with, not something to carry." It was hard for you to explain yourself.

What were you even trying to explain? Were you just upset because you 'ruined his night' or because of something else? You were confused. "Who? The annoying girl? She randomly came to me, I couldn't even move her away because I had the drinks on my hands."

Annoying was a word that stood out to you. It seemed your overthinking got the best of you. Perhaps whatever you believed wasn't true? Looking at his face dumbfounded, he smirked. "What? Were you jealous?"

That was another word that stood out. Your cheeks fluttered and you murmured to yourself whilst looking away. "As if..." You could hear his contagious laugh after your words, making you smile slightly.

There was a comfortable silence before he spoke again.

"I saw it. Last time. Your 'friends'... The way she didn't even hesitate on making herself the victim when she saw fit. I had to control myself that night, that plastic face of hers was about to change shape if I didn't." He laughed to himself.

You were quiet, so he continued. "Honestly, it made me so mad that even though I was going to try and talk to you anyways, I had to make sure you didn't go back to them. I didn't want you to. You don't deserve friends like that, no one does." His brows furrowed at the thought.

"...It's not like I wanted to, either. I guess I just... got used to it." You whispered, looking at his hands covering yours. He held them tighter and got slightly closer to kiss your forehead, giving you a soft smile afterwards.

"I don't know if you'll ever try to trust again after all of that, but... would you give me a chance to be your friend? For now, who knows if I might level up later on." It made you smile. It always made you smile.

And you wanted to trust. To trust him, even though it might break your heart in the long run. Right now, you just wanted to feel safe, and he was the safest bet. "I guess I can give you a chance. And... let's see if you're able to upgrade sooner than later." He could only smile brighter, kissing your knuckles before changing his tone of voice to a more energetic one.

"So, wanna get drunk in your house? I have a Jack Daniel's in the trunk."

"Wha..."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this was lying on my drafts for too long unnecesarily- hope you liked it!

also i put specifically that one song but there are so many that can be part of this trope, it's just too much for me to add lol

~nikkõ

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | September 15th-22nd 2024

AAAAAHHHHHHHHH it's season 8 premiere week baby!!!!!!!!

Complete

I Don't Like Your Boyfriend (I Think You Need a New One) by eightpackdiaz (Post-S7, BuckTommy Break-Up, Getting Together | 2K | Teen): Wine night at Hen and Karen's results in an adorably drunk Eddie demanding Buck come over and cuddle him in the middle of the night

So tell me if I run away, how long will I bleed? by Dark_Rosaleen (TW: Mention of rape/non-con Re: Dr. Wells | 3K | Mature): “Can we… can we back up a sec?” Eddie says, heart hammering because he can’t have heard that right. “Uh, yeah.” Buck says with a bemused expression. “You had sex with your therapist?” Buck frowns. Shifts in his seat a little. “Yeah.” “Buck, that’s—” Eddie stops. Breathes. “Buck, that’s not right.”

the cat's meow by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Post-S7 | 4K | Explicit): Buck walked into Eddie's house and froze. “Is that a cat?” “Well it’s not a dog,” Eddie laughed, shifting so he was sitting up. Pinto made a dissatisfied little cooing sound as he moved, but settled in his lap once he was upright. “When the hell did you get a cat?” - Eddie adopts a cat and let's himself have good things.

Love & Other Surprises by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Post-S7 | Getting Together | 4K | Teen): After going to collect Christopher from Texas, Buck and Eddie turn up to the firehouse wearing wedding rings. Everyone is understandably confused.

I Think I Want To Marry You by MajorKoalaTea (Wedding Proposal | 5K | Teen): Eddie Diaz wants to propose to Buck so he decides to ask Bobby and Athena for their blessing. The universe doesn't make it easy for him. A 5+1 fic where Eddie tries to get Bobby and Athena's blessing to propose and fails. Plus the one time he succeeds.

Reaching For You by Inell/ @inell (Soulmates AU, S4E14: Survicors | 5K | Teen): While getting Eddie to safety after a sniper attack, Buck realizes that they might be soulmates and has to make a difficult choice.

Sweet Talk by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S7 | 6K | Teen): Eddie asks to crash at the loft while Christopher is gone, struggling to be on his own. Only problem? There's only one bed, and no couch.

🔥 by any other name by coldbam/ @coldbam (Post-S7, Jealous Buck | 7K | Explicit): “Eddie, this guy—he gave me my name.” Eddie’s eyebrows crease together. “Buck here is forgetting the full introduction.” Bailey steps forward and extends his hand to Eddie. “Evan Bailey, 178. I go by Evan now.” He winks, and he’s still got Eddie’s hand grasped in his, the handshake going on a lot longer than necessary. But Bailey always liked to make an impression, especially with— Well, especially with guys he thought were hot. * Eddie meets one of those other Evans from Buck's academy class. Buck is totally normal about it.

Friendly Advice by Inell/ @inell (Post-S7, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): When Ravi asks Buck and Eddie to have dinner with him, they don’t expect him to ask them for advice on how they remained friends after breaking up. The issue? They’ve never been a couple.

I’ll Take You All The Way, Boy Just Come Along by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Different First Meeting AU | 8K | Teen): The Diaz boys are having a rough day. Lucky for them, they meet a firefighter at the 118 who's determined to do anything he can to make them smile. It works, it really, really works.

🔥 you ruined my life by not being mine by coldbam/ @coldbam (Post-S7, Eddie Coming Out | 8K | Explicit): Buck stands up so quickly he nearly knocks over his drink. “That guy just grabbed his ass.” Hen tugs him back down to his seat. “Yeah, and Eddie does not look mad about it. Chill out.” * Or, Eddie spends the summer finding himself while Buck is forced to watch.

all you're giving me is friction by hammersmiths/ @henswilsons (Canon Divergent, S2 | 8K | Teen): “Now that is a handsome man.” The first thing Hen notices about New Recruit Eddie Diaz is that he is in possession of a remarkable set of abdominal muscles. The next thing she notices is the wedding ring. And Buck is staring at him like a piece of meat. “Oh, nuh-uh,” she says immediately. “Don’t even think about it, Buckley.” or, Eddie is new, and married, and Buck won’t stop flirting. 5+1.

🔥I didn't know (that it could be good) by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Post-S7, FWB | 27K | Explicit): They're friends, that's all there is to it. Until Eddie lets himself into Buck's apartment unannounced, and finds him in a compromising position. That should be nothing, just something to laugh about down the line, except afterwards, it's like a switch has flipped, and neither of them can get it out of their minds. The solution? They need to get it out of their systems. Just one time, and things will go back to normal. But one time turns to two, which turns to more nights spent together than apart, and still, they haven't actually spoken about what any of this means for them. They're still just friends, right?

WIP

Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 4/? | 26K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 19/21 | 96K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

🔥 go and kill, go and die by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 7/14 | 32K | Mature): The 118 are a group of survivors in a small California town in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. For months they've been isolated and safe. But the arrival of some new players, the search for some missing loved ones, will shake everything up and put their little team in jeopardy.

Podfic

This Mortal Coil (Shuffle) by knuckledusters/ @danhalen // fic eirabach/ @eirabach (S6E11: In Another Life | 2-2.5h | Mature): Maddie was never supposed to be Buck’s mother. Eddie was never allowed to be his anything. But three minutes and seventeen seconds later, here they are. [Or, Maddie and Eddie wait, bond, and remember.]

Re-read

🔥 like a bird stealing bread out from under your nose by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S7, Fix-It | 21K | Mature): If you’d asked Eddie back in May what rock bottom looked like, it was his son leaving him. That felt like it; everything ruined so entirely that there was no way to ruin it further. There’s always more to lose.

🔥 situations, circumstances, miscommunications ( i just may like some explanations ) by heartbeatdiaz / @lonelychicago (Didn't Know They Were Dating | 4K | Teen): "You didn't know?" Eddie asks, calmer but not less confused. He frowns. "How could you not know?" "You never said anything?" Buck tilts his head to the side. "We were dating?” “I guess not,” Eddie sighs. His heart is beating a little faster, an unpleasant buzz beneath his skin as he all but chokes on a feeling he can’t quite name— it could be hurt or disappointment or maybe a mix of both. In that moment, he knows three things very clearly. 1. Buck is going to be the death of him. 2. He is in love with the most dense, most oblivious man on planet Earth. 3. He is too gay and, honestly, too old for this shit.

How Come You Didn't Tell Me We Were Dating? I Didn't Know Either! by Sonayesul (Didn't Know They Were Dating | 6K | General): “Omigod, I’m in love with Buck,” Eddie said, burying his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean to cause a crisis,” Frank said. “I’m in love with Buck.” Eddie repeated. “I should not have assumed your relationship with him,” Frank continued on. “I’m in love with Buck.” He’s like a broken record. “Maybe we should end early today.” Frank suggested and Eddie weakly nodded. ~ In which case, Buck and Eddie have been dating for six months. Except neither of them got the memo.

[benedictscanvas]

pick me up at seven - roy kent x reader

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k (they won't all be this long i don't think!!)

warnings: language of course, and this is a little steamy but with no actual smut. my favourite genre HA

request: I can’t find any good Roy fics until your recent one and I’m dying for more 😭 Anyway you could write something else for him? Maybe they’re at a bar and he gets pissed when he sees Jamie flirting w her? (Not a pre established relationship) - @kashee-h

a/n: your wish is my demand!! i'm so happy you enjoyed the first roy fic of what i hope are many to come. this one totally got away from me, i loved writing it so so much, thanks for a request that I really got to make my own! <3

---

Roy is the one who’s invited you here. Roy is the one who trekked over to your office at the end of the working day and told you that everyone was going out that evening. Roy is the one who suggested you come, even when you seemed reluctant to join in on what appeared to be an evening for just the players and the coaches. Roy is the one who convinced you that it would be fun, that he’d make sure of it.

All of this is making it very hard for Roy to accept that you are currently sat in a corner booth with someone else. The fact that the person you seemed to be having such an in depth conversation with was Jamie fucking Tartt was the icing on a very shit cake.

He knew he could be having a better night than just sitting on a barstool trying not to watch the two of you, especially when Ted and Beard arrived to get the next round and he didn’t even acknowledge them. They’d hired out a private room, so it was filled with people he generally tolerated the company, some he’d even go as far as to say that he liked. None of that was registering, however. 

Jamie leans in when you can’t hear something he’s said and he watches you nod solemnly, duck your head to stare at the floor as if flustered, and he wants to walk right out that door and never come back. Maybe he could get a job at Chelsea, or something.

“Now, what’s wrong, Jeremy Strong?” Ted asks, and Roy has to bite back a ‘fuck off’ so hard he wonders if his lip is bleeding, “You look just about ready to start wreckin’ the place.”

Out of the corner of Roy’s eye, he sees Beard lean in to whisper in Ted’s ear and points over at you. Ted looks surprised. Roy does not want to deal with this.

“You’re telling’ me our very own Mr Kent has his eyes on our very own Miss Y/L/N? Well, that’s just great! She’s sweet as anythin’, good for you, Roy.”

“She’s sweet on Jamie fucking Tartt, more like,” he says, even though he knows he’s being so fucking unfair. He hates it about himself. He knows how hard he’s worked on these feelings, on frustration and anger and jealousy, knows that a few years ago he’d be getting ready to fight Jamie down an alley further through tonight. Now he’s done that work, however, he can recognise the overriding feeling that he’s actually just hurt and that’s so much worse. It’s much easier to be jealous than upset.

“Does this call for an impromptu meeting of the Diamond Dogs?” Ted asks brightly and Roy is only able to stop him after his second howl. Higgins has looked over briefly but Beard signals him to stay where he is.

“Fuck no,” Roy blurts out, then reconsiders. Maybe he could at least talk to Ted, “I just- I was going to tell her. Tonight.”

“Tell her what?” Ted’s doing that thing where he bats his eyelashes like he’s in some sort of rom-com. Beard’s got his head resting in his hand, looking similarly up at Roy. They’re insufferable. 

“That I fucking like her, okay? Take those fucking looks off your faces.”

Ted and Beard scramble to look normal but come up short. Ted’s got the awful kind of shit-eating grin on his face that he gets when he sees Sam and Jamie hugging or watches Isaac doing his handshakes with everyone before a game.

“So, you’ve been spending time together? Or are you telling her out of the blue?” Beard pipes up.

Roy thinks that over. You’ve been spending a lot of time together actually. More than anyone at the club would probably even believe. He slips away to your office to eat lunch under the guise of needing a break from the American Circus downstairs. You text him when you’ve brought in ice cream because you know he’ll never say no to ice cream. You’ve met Phoebe. That one was by accident in the park, but you stuck around for four fucking hours and nobody made you.

Still, he wonders whether it would be completely shocking to you or whether you’ve been waiting for him to make a proper move. You’re incredibly difficult to read alongside being so stupidly pretty that sometimes he wants to swear less around you. He doesn’t manage it, of course, but he thinks it.

“Yes, we’ve spent time together. No, I don’t know what that means. Probably doesn’t mean shit to her, not that it would be her fault if she doesn't.”

Ted and Beard tilt their heads simultaneously at him and he wishes he could bash their heads together for a moment.

“But it means somethin’ to you, hey coach? I don’t think Miss Y/N sittin’ with Jamie should stop you from tellin' her how you feel about ‘er, hey coach?”

Roy’s lost track of which coach Ted is even talking to, but Beard chimes in.

“Surely her spending time with Jamie should be all the more incentive to tell her. Find out how she feels. Get that crushing disappointment out of the way now. It’s only downhill from here.”

Roy raises a brow at him as Ted gives him a look. Beard sighs, then picks up his drink and seems to disappear. Ted leans into Roy.

“Him and Jane are on a break again, I’m sorry. Look I’m goin’ to have to go find him but he was right, until he wasn’t. Go get ‘er, Ross Gellar!”

And with that, Ted’s gone too, weaving his way through crowds of people until he’s lost to them. When Roy glances back in your direction, Jamie’s got Colin and Isaac beside him instead and you’re nowhere to be found. He sighs and stands from his barstool, making his way to the exit. Maybe he’d think about what Ted and Beard had said tomorrow: for now, he just wanted to go home.

Except for the fact that when he finally managed to push his way outside to breathe in some fresh air, he found you. Leaning against the wall of the club, with definite tears in your eyes, even under the dim street lamp light. He was going to murder Jamie Tartt, slowly, with rope and paint and suffering involved.

But he knew to take a slightly softer approach with you. If at all possible.

“Hey,” he says quietly, trying not to startle you. You're quick to look up at him, startled anyway, and he grits his teeth as he asks, “Are you alright?”

He doesn’t make any comment about what the fuck Jamie had done to you. Doesn’t think it would be received all that well. Again, he’s biting the inside of his lip harder than ever.

“Yes! Oh god, yes, sorry,” you’re blinking furiously. He admires your resolve when the nearly teary face is quickly replaced by that bright smile that makes him weaker in the knees than he already is, “Fuck, sorry. I’m all good. I’m not sure this is my scene, I was just going to call a taxi.”

There’s an opening. He’ll be damned if he’s not taking it, even though confessing anything is the furthest idea from his mind - he’s much more focused on making sure you’re okay and nobody’s done anything to hurt you. If they have, he's already resigned to a short stint in jail if necessary.

“Do you want to walk?”

“Uh, I mean not really. It’s quite late, so…”

“With me, I mean,” he quickly clarified, wanting to bash his head against the brick wall, “I could walk you home, if you wanted. Or not. That’s fine too.”

“Oh, right,” you’re looking down at your feet as you contemplate it, “That would be nice, if you’re sure. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he insists, falling into step beside you as you begin to walk. He wants to give you his jacket and maybe his shirt too with the way you’re shivering, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s a fucking coward, but he will get to the bottom of what’s the matter if its the last thing he does, “You gonna tell me what’s wrong now?”

You huff out a frustrated sigh, at him, at yourself, he isn’t sure.

“I made a fucking fool of myself tonight,” you say eventually, and he can’t even imagine you doing that, “I thought…god, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Everything just feels worse when its…1:30 in the morning, don’t you think?”

You’d lifted his hand to check his watch before you said the time. Again, he wanted to hold on, but he let you drop his hand and it just went limp.

“It fucking does, yeah. Don’t think you could make a fucking fool of yourself if you tried though. Not around us lot.”

Your family, he heard Ted’s voice in his head. He was not fucking saying that. To his surprise, you let out a loud bark of a laugh at his words and he was staring at the side of your face as you spoke out into the dark air.

“I thought you were coming to pick me up tonight, you know?” you began, and his heart drops to his shoes. You’re upset about him?

“What?”

“Something you said earlier, when you asked me to come. You asked where I lived, then told me it would be a twenty minute walk to get there. Then you said ‘see you at seven’.”

He could have stopped walking. He had said that, but he was just trying to help you plan out your timings for the evening - you’d mentioned to him once that you were known for having some time blindness when you were getting ready for things. Of course he should have realised how fucking stupid that was, how much that sounded like he would come and walk with you.

He would have fucking loved to walk with you.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, far too loudly for the quiet night that surrounded you. You carried on undeterred, shaking your head. He could see your frustration was at yourself now, and he hated himself even more than he had earlier.

“My fault for assuming, I know. But that’s why I was so late. And when I arrived, trying talk myself into not feeling like a twat, you were already over with Dani and Isaac and Bumbercatch, clearly never intending to come pick me up. Which, why would you, of course. I just…felt shit. Jamie tried to help, bless him, but I just wanted to go home, honestly.”

Roy is the biggest idiot on the planet. He wants to go back into the club and hug Jamie for looking after you, then ask him to punch him in the face. Roy could punch something, anything right now, but he just grits his teeth.

“I’m-” he grunts when his voice comes out all strangled, “I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N. I’m the fucking twat. I was asking where you lived and that to help you with that fucking time blindness thing you told me about. Should’ve known how it sounded though. Fucking idiot.”

He directed the last comment at himself, kicking a stone he’d found on the pavement. He kept his eyes firmly trained on his shoes as the two of you continued walking, now at a significantly slower pace. Your eyes were burning a hole in the side of his face.

There was a silence that stretched on as you stared at him, until-

“Fucking hell,” you groaned, “That’s so fucking sweet. You’re the worst.”

He doesn’t know if he can remember being called sweet before. Phoebe was often excessively complimentary of him in a way that made him uncomfortable, but sweet had never come up. He didn’t feel sweet.

“I am the worst,” he grunted, spiralling, “Making you feel so shit. Ruining your fucking night. I was the one who convinced you in the first place and now you’ve had a shit fucking time and I’m the worst.”

He’s a little out of breath and loud again by the end of his rant. The two of you have stopped walking. You kick the toe of your heel against his shoe, placating.

“No, you’re the worst ‘cause you keep giving me all this hope. I fucking hate hope, no matter what Ted says,” you chuckle to yourself, and he’s not sure what you’re saying but he’s peering into your now smiling expression as he tries to work it out, “Look, do you like me or not? You’re a good guy Roy and either way, I’m grateful that you’re walking me home. I just think if I ask, maybe I can just feel like a twat for the night and get it over with by tomorrow.”

“Do I…like you?”

He sounds thick. He feels thick. Feels like his mouth is full of honey that his tongue is having to wade through to even speak to you. It’s stuck to the bottom of his mouth, heavy.

“Yeah. As in, do you just enjoy eating lunch with me or do you ever look at me and just want to kiss me? Cause I do that all the fucking time, Roy, but I can’t be arsed to dance around it anymore.”

You look really tired as you stare up at him, but he feels more energised than ever. You’ve both just established that he’s the absolute worst, and yet here he is, with everything he could’ve wanted right in front of him. You, looking fucking gorgeous and looking at him like that? Even getting a job at Chelsea wouldn’t help him against you - he was gone.

There’s a smirk on his face that he can’t bite back as he takes your face in both his hands and revels in the gasp he can pull from you. He should have known you’d be the first to say something. You weren’t the coward he was.

“Let’s not fuck about then, yeah?”

Low and breathy. You respond with a nod so eager that he’s practically grinning when he pulls you in. It’s quickly replaced by a hunger he’s been keeping at bay, allowing his hands to slide into your hair as he deepens the kiss almost as soon as it’s started. He can feel your hands clutching at the lapels on his jacket, but he’s more excited when you throw your arms around his neck instead, tugging on the hair at the base of his head.

He growls and you actually whimper. It’s like he’s been set on fucking fire. Like he’s been struck by lightning.

When he pulls away for air, you stay close, peppering kisses along the scruff of his jaw, up the side of his face and back down again. He holds you to him tightly around your waist and feels wanted. He’s wanted you for so long, but to be wanted in return, so openly, it’s both hot and meaningful. He’s not sure anyone’s ever told him they liked him before. Most models he’d dated were pretty sold on the idea that he had to make all the moves.

Still, when you begin trailing kisses down his neck and there’s a hand on the top button of his shirt, he has enough sense about him to stop you. Even if he really doesn’t want to.

“I don’t know what street this is,” he breathes out, low voice little more than a rumble, “But maybe we don't give your neighbours a fucking show.”

You look thoroughly kissed when you look back at him, but he doesn’t think it’ll ever be enough. He leans in to kiss you once more to punctuate his sentence, watching as you duck your head, all shy, even though your arms are still around him. He knows now that when you ducked your head with Jamie, you were embarrassed. This is you properly flustered and it’s one of his favourite looks on you.

“Good call, yeah. Okay. I’m- I’m just around this corner, I think.”

“You think?”

“Shut up, you,” you whack him lightly on the shoulder, as the two of you resume walking, “Think you can make it all the way there?”

“I’d carry you if my knee wasn’t fucked,” he admits, watching you with a lopsided smile, “Really fucking like you, by the way. If that wasn’t proof. Thought you should hear me fucking say it.”

You close your eyes in a little half laugh - giddy, he thinks. 

“Well, I did wonder. We’ve spent a lot of time together the last few weeks for someone who doesn’t like spending time with people.”

“Your first clue,” he agrees, taking your hand with pride now as the two of you keep walking, turning the corner towards your house. The pace is a lot quicker than it was before. He hopes he knows why, “I’ll be less of a fucking idiot now. Promise.”

“Eh, don’t worry,” you shrug, letting go of his hand only to thread your arm through his and take hold of his hand again, even tighter, “Nothing sexier than fucking idiots. I like my men with no thoughts behind their eyes.”

He properly laughs at that, head tilted back, feeling your head against his arm as you laugh with him. You slow down, gesturing left. Your house. The two of you walk down the drive until you’re at the door, face to face again and Roy is having a small internal battle.

“Look, I know you said no show for the neighbours,” you begin, almost nervously, “But does that mean a…private show is totally off the table too?”

He watches you picking at your nails. Can’t help it. He pulls you in for another breathless kiss, just to watch you come alive again, confident and fucking into him, however much of a miracle it seems. You pull away this time, clearly keen for an answer, but he groans.

“Tryin’ to be a fucking gentleman, here. Why don’t we do dinner tomorrow? Proper date. And I’ll fucking pick you up.”

You giggle. Still, there’s a glint in your eyes, as you sigh melodramatically.

“That does sound nice. Only thing is, there could be an intruder in here, you know? So, and I’ll only ask once more and then I promise I’ll let you go if you say no, but maybe you should walk me to my bedroom? To make sure I’m safe, you know? And then you can pay for my breakfast in the morning like a good old fashioned gentleman, if you want.”

You’re looking up at him, all hopeful again. His resolve is dwindling. You spin your keys around one finger and its a simple gesture, but it’s the final straw.

“I’m paying for your fucking lunch too,” he growls, diving into you once again. He’s beside himself when he hears you mutter a faint ‘thank fuck’ as you fumble to unlock the door and all but drag him inside.

---

if you've read this far, i fucking love you, you beautiful sunflower <3 requests open for this angry man and his favourite jamie tartt if you're interested!!

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Natasha Romanoff x Fem reader 

I don’t really care if it’s a one shot type thing or a story with a couple parts, I will leave that completely up to you but it’s so hard for me to find stories with the reader and Nat dancing together and I love your work so I was wondering if you could please write a story where the reader is a prima ballerina. She lives in the city and during some kind of attack something happens and Natasha ends up saving her. The dancer falls in love with Nat as soon as she sees her and after the attack Natasha wants to see her again so they start dancing together and then fall in love and start dating. 

Dance with me

Hope you enjoyed this! I really had fun writhing it and would 100% be done to continue writing in this AU.

Summary: You had the weirdest luck, from being in the city where the Avengers are facing a newest threat, to being saved by the Black Widow, and seeing that same Black Widow entry your dance store. See, the weirdest luck.

Warning; Angst with a happy ending, Fluff, love confession, attempted assault in the beginning, mention of past trauma, Natasha needs the biggest hug, guilt, a form of self harm, mention of the Red Room.

Word Count: 4.4k

“You got to be kidding me,” you mumbled as ran you down the sidewalk as a car exploded next to you. Running down an alley, trying to escape the violence. Your heart was beating against your rib cage as you tried to catch your breath. Sweat pouring down your back. You were in Chicago for three days for a dance convention, and one of your students was performing. It happened to line up with the Avengers creating havoc on the city. You knew it wasn’t their fault but damn you had the worst luck. You flinched as another explosion rocked the streets and a scream echoed in the distance. A man appeared in the face of the alley, wearing all black and holding an assault rifle.

“Well hello beautiful,” he was British, and the smile he wore made your stomach drop. You hated it. “What are you doing here, little bird?” You didn’t answer as you walked backward, your eyes never leaving the man. “Cat got your tongue.” Your back hit the brick wall, you were trapped. “It’s hell out there and I need some stress relief.” When he got closer to you, his gloved hand gripped your chin. “I bet you can help. Won’t you baby?” Your lips began to shake as your eyes closed. Your body froze, unable to scream or fight back or run. Soon the grip on your chin was removed and you heard a pained grunt. You snapped your eyes open and saw a woman, wearing all black and bright red hair. She kicked your attacker once, twice in the stomach before handcuffing him to the dumpster.

“Are you alright?” She asked, looking at you. Your eyes flickered to her and your assailant, who now had blood dripping from the side of his head.

“Yeah,” you whispered, voice and handshaking. “Yeah,” it was steadier as you stared at the Avenger. The Black Widow. Shit, she was prettier in person. “He didn’t get a chance to do anything.” Her green eyes sent daggers to the unconscious man but an explosion rocked the city. You stumbled slightly and she placed her hands on your waist to catch you. You felt your stomach drop as her cold skin could be felt through your thin tank top. But Natasha wasn’t affected by the interaction.

“Look I have to go,” she removed her hold on you. “Can you make it back home safe?” You nodded. You weren’t completely helpless. “Good. Be safe.”

“You too,” you called after her as ran to join the fight. “And thank you.” You noticed the stutter in her steep and she disappeared. You let out a breathless sigh, slumping back against the wall. You had the weirdest luck.

*

There was a buzzing that formed underneath Natasha’s skin. The buzzing wouldn’t go away no matter how much she worked her body - spending hours in the gun range, sparring with Steve, and punching the sandbag until her knuckles bleed. The buzzing remained. She concluded a new outlet was needed to release this energy. So she walked the surprisingly empty streets of New York City with her hoodie up to cover her face. The last thing she wanted was to be recognized as an Avenger when the media was portraying them as villains. She opened the dance shop, and a soft bell alerted her presence to the owners. “I’ll be right with you,” a voice called out. In Natasha’s muffled mind, the voice sounded familiar. But she didn’t dwell too much on it. The hood covering her face fell as she walked over to the wall of pointe shoes. This was the last store she wanted to be in but she needed to make the buzzing stop. The Red Room used ballet as a punishment rather than a training tool. For hours, she and other girls were forced to endure training, learning different variations, and techniques. Sometimes she could still feel the whip on the back of her calves when her form wasn’t correct. She needed that reminder of the Red Room instructors yelling at her. The way her muscles cramped and twitched because they weren’t allowed breaks. She deserved the pain. She wasn’t good enough, she was failing.

“Hi, how can I-” the voice trailed off. Natasha knew why the voice sounded familiar. It was you, the girl she saved in Chicago from that pig of a man. She made sure to throw him a little harder against the metal van that arrested him. “Sorry, can I help you find anything? Or are you just looking?” She blinked once, twice at you. That was different. She was used to the fan-girls crushing over her or the hateful glares she received on the streets but you acted like she was a normal customer.

“Pointe shoes,” Natasha said simply. “I need a new pair.” You smiled.

“I’m guessing you’ve been fitted for shoes before,” the redhead wasn’t sure how to tell you that she was forced to endure a fitting.

“It’s been a while,” your smile didn’t change.

“That’s fine! Just tell me what size you think you are and I’ll grab some options. There is a studio through that door and we’ll try them on in there,” Natasha did just that. She told you her shoe size and walked into the dance studio. It was as if the air was sucked out of her lungs as she stood in the familiar space. The studio was small but it had a wall of mirrors and a ballet bar. Posters were hung on the walls. Natasha couldn’t help but feel that fear as she sat down and waited for you. That fear made her stomach twist and her heart beat against her ribs. A part of her enjoyed it, the anticipation of when she was going to be hit. She knew it was sick and twisted but she deserved it.

*

You were freaking out. The Black Widow. The Natasha Romanoff was in your little hole-in-the-wall dance store buying pointe shoes. What the fuck was going on? But you had a job to do so you let out a shaky breath and grabbed a few options for her to try on. When you entered the small dance studio, she was sitting on the floor with her leggings rolled up to her knees. “So I brought a few pairs and we’ll find your perfect pair of shoes,” she didn’t return your smile. She looked lost in thought.

“Right,” she took the first box that you handed her. “Thank you,” a small smile formed on her lips. It was tight, strained as it took everything in her to smile. You wondered what was bothering her. She began the process of putting on the shoes, slipping her sneakers and socks off, and tying the ribbon. She did it like a pro. Natasha stood up as you remained sitting. “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” she broke the silence.

“You didn’t think I’d get home safe,” you teased. “I’m not that helpless.” Natasha frowned.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know, Natasha, I’m just joking,” you didn’t mean to offend her. “Can you go up on pointe for me?” She did. Her legs shook a little but it was to be expected since she wasn’t training every day. You didn’t like the way they looked. “How do they feel?” You asked

“A little loose,” she came back down. “Sorry,” you were startled by her apology.

“It’s alright,” you said. “My job is to find the right shoe for you, no matter how long it takes.”

*

You found a pair that Natasha was happy with. Well…you hopped she was happy with the pair. It was hard to read her expression when she didn’t show any real emotion. While you rang her out, she was looking at the pictures you had displayed behind the counter. It was the students that you gave private lessons to when you weren’t running the store or at your rehearsal. “I wasn’t aware this store was a dance company.” She said, taking the bag from you.

“We aren’t,” you said. “I give private lessons.”

“Do you dance professionally?” You nodded.

“I dance for the New York City Ballet,” it was the first time you saw a flicker of emotion across her face. She was impressed. “In my downtime, I help run the store and teach. It’s not easy to live in the city on a dancer’s salary,” Natasha chuckled.

“Do you rent out the space for private use?” You normally didn’t but you were curious.

“Does the Avenger Tower not have a dance studio?” You questioned.

“It does,” the redhead slowly. “But I don’t dance in front of them.” You understood that. Dancing could be a vulnerable act, pouring so much of yourself into it. You had an idea. Opening the top drawer, you pulled out an extra key to the back door. It leads right into the dance studio. You put your hand on the counter, covering it.

“I have a proposition,” you said. She raised a curious eyebrow. “I’m going to give you an extra key to the dance studio and you can come to use it whenever you like,” you removed your hand showing her the key. “And if you ever need a dance partner you’ll give me a call.” Natasha frowned.

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I know I don’t but I want to,” you slide the key over to her. “I’ll clear it with the owners so don’t worry about it. Besides, you saved my life it’s the least I can do.” Natasha hesitated but took the key.

“Thank you,” she smiled. It was the first real one she gave you.

“No need to thank me. I hope to see you around,” she nodded and pulled her hoodie up before leaving the store. You couldn’t help but watch the way left. It was strange, stupid really to worry about someone you barely knew. Especially an Avenger but you worried about Natasha. She just seemed sad and upset. You desperately wanted to help.

*

You weren’t always around when Natasha used the key to the dance studio and she was grateful for that. You had a presence about you that scared Natasha. It made the buzzing underneath her skin increase and no amount of hours dancing would stop it. But there were days Natasha wished you were there. On the days you happened to be in the studio when she came around, you offered her a kind smile and that was it. You didn’t hound her with questions or force her to talk, you just let her be. It was oddly nice.

*

A trend was forming, you weren’t a detective or a police officer, even though you had a guilty pleasure for true crime TV shows but you noticed it right away. When Natasha would slip into the dance studio, you saw the horrific words spewed by the media, politicians, and the general public about the Avengers. They were called monsters, villains, and killers. Unfortunately, Natasha received more hate compared to her male teammates.

At the end of you the day, you were a dancer and a choreographer. You saw the story and emotion behind each dance the Black Widow did. You felt the anger, the pain, and the guilt she carried. It was so unfair and you wanted to take it all away.

According to a news article you read, you saw the Avengers were returning from DC. The meeting went well better than most but you saw that once again Natasha was left to defend her character and her allegiance to this country. It made your blood boil.

So you were ready when the Black Widow opened the back door. A scowl was on her face but it lessened slightly when she saw you. You tried not to read too much into that. “Hi,” you said. “Do you want to dance with me?” She barely had time to close the door before she asked your question. “We don’t have to,” you gave her an out. “We’ve seen each other dance individually so I thought it would be fun to dance together,” she continued to stare at you. “Sorry, it’s stupid-”

“Yes,” Natasha cringed at her placement. “Sorry no it’s not stupid, yes we can dance,” she chuckled, scratching the back of her head awkwardly. “You took me by surprise. I just got back from a trip.”

“I know,” it was your turn to cringe. “That sounded like I was stalking you,” she smiled and sat down to warm up. “What I meant was I saw on the news,” she frowned at your statement. “Do you know the pas de deux from Alice in Wonderland between Alice and the Knave of Hearts.?” She smiled, nodding her head.

“Yeah, I do. Let me warm up and we can do it. A pas de deux translated into a step of two. It was a dance in which two dancers formed ballet together. Some of the most popular duets were Swan Lake, Giselle, and Sleeping Beauty. It required a great deal of trust between the two dancers. When you jumped, you needed Natasha to catch you. If you needed to spin she would be there to guide you. But it was the same with her as she moved and danced across the room she trusted that you would follow her. You preferred dancing with a partner rather than a solo. You were able to tell a different story and play off with one another.

You had to admit it was had to dance with Natasha. Her hands holding onto your waist. You could feel her breath on your skin. All of your senses were consumed by the Black Widow and it was overwhelming.

When the dance was done, you were slightly out of breath as you stared at the redhead. You were sloppy and made a few mistakes but it was worth it to see Natasha’s smile. It was wild, unreserved, and free. Also so beautiful.

So you made it your mission to be there after every time Natasha. No matter her mood, you would ask her to dance. Sometimes you picked popular variations and other times you two would make up your own, sticking to ballet and contemporary style. When Natasha asked you to dance for the first time, you had to stop yourself from spitting your water out. But the shy smile and the light blush on her face made you say yes without hesitation. You learned no matter what she asked you to do you’d do it. Anything to see her smile.

*

“I won’t be around much this week,” you told her as you rested your back on the mirror and nursed a bottle of water. “I have tech rehearsal,” you answered her unasked question. She didn’t need to ask. With all the hours spent with the Black Widow, it was easier to read her. You noticed her walls were coming down.

“What ballet are you performing?” She asked, taking her ballet shoes off.

“Swan Lake,” you bite your lip. “I have an extra ticket for the opening night if you want to come.”

“Me?” Natasha questioned. “I’m sure you have other people you want to invite.” You shook your head. You already got the tickets for the husband and wife that owned this store and allowed you to stay in the above apartment.

“My family didn’t like the idea of me being a dancer,” you told her. “They wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer,” you remembered the day your father kicked you out. “So I have an extra ticket and I’d like you to come. Opening night is this Friday.” It wasn’t much of a notice but you were working up the courage to ask her.

“I’d love to go,” she said. “What part are you playing?”

“Just a background character,” you shrugged. “Nothing major.”

“Nonsense, any part is important. I know you’ll do amazing,” your body felt warm from her compliment. So when Natasha was done and headed back to the tower, her ticket was held tightly in her hand.

*

Natasha was running late. She had a meeting with Fury on how to save her public image that went longer than she expected. However, she didn’t care about the public image at the moment all she cared about was you. A stranger that opened up a space for her to exist, without question and no strings attached. A safe place where she could let down her walls and learn to fall in with dancing. To fall in love with you.

She parked her bike on the side of the road and jumped off, arriving at the theater with enough time to grab a pamphlet and find her seat. She had a quick thought to send you a quick text, telling you that she was here, and turned off her phone. As the lights dimmed, she flipped through the pamphlet to find your name. Her jaw dropped. You weren’t some background character, you were Odette and Odile. The main character. The White and Black Swan. Natasha chuckled. She wasn’t surprised you were given the lead, you were a talented and strong dancer. Also beautiful. Sometimes Natasha lost herself as she watched you dance. You were graceful, and elegant, and danced with such a passion for what you did. She envied your love for dancing, it wasn’t tainted by those who believed they could control the minds and bodies of little girls. But your love of it broke down every negative feeling she had associated with dancing. These new feelings scared her. She worried you would run away if she ever told you. How could a person like herself ever deserve love?

*

“Amazing performance,” someone congratulated you giving you a quick hug. It was a little overwhelming as you walked out into the lobby after the performance. Everyone, rather you knew them or not, came up to congratulate you on a job well done. You were grateful, each praise gave you more confidence in your dancing ability. However, you were looking for her. It was easy to spot the redhead while you were on stage because you knew the seat and row she was in. Now, in a sea of people, you were lost.

Finally, you found her, dressed in black jeans and a leather jacket. She was leaning against the wall as she played on her phone. With a smile on your face, you closed the distance between you and the Black Widow. “Hi,” you said as you got closer. She looked up.

“You were incredible,” she said, slipping her phone into her pocket. “And some background character, you were the main dancer,” you giggled, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Dorogoy (sweetheart), you were amazing,” you weren’t expecting the Black Widow to take you in her arms and lift you in the air. You laughed, drawing some looks but you didn’t care. Soon she placed you back on the ground, a little surprised at her sudden action. “I’m sorry,” she said. She tried to pull away from you but you kept your arms around her neck. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m just really proud of you.”

“It’s okay, Nat,” you smiled. You were sweaty, probably smelt horrible but that didn’t matter with you being so close to Natasha. Her green eyes flickered to your lips and back to your eyes. But your name was called out and broke whatever trance you both were in. You groaned.

“You’re the woman of the hour,” Natasha chuckled. “It would be wrong of me to keep you all to myself,” you bite your lip, looking towards the direction your name was called.

“15 minutes,” you told her. “Meet in the theater, okay?” The redhead smiled.

“Okay, 15 minutes.”

“15 minutes,” you repeated, kissing her cheek before heading back into the crowd of people. Butterflies danced in your stomach. You just performed one of the hardest technical pieces of your career but you were more nervous to tell Natasha you loved her.

*

As Natasha walked into the quiet theater, the lights turned on and soft music began to play. You walked out from the curtains with a smile. “Come dance with me,” you said, holding out your hand. Natasha smiled, took her jacket off, and jumped onto the stage.

“How do you have the energy to dance?” She asked. “I am tired from watching you,” you giggled as she took your hand in hers.

“I will always have the energy to dance with you,” it was a different type of dancing than Natasha was used to. She wouldn’t call it dancing, just gentle swaying to the music with her around your waist. Sometimes Natasha would spin you and bring you back into her arms. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” she teased. “Of course, ask away.”

“Why do you dance?” You asked. “What made you walk into a dance store and buy a new pair of pointe shoes?” The question took Natasha by surprise. It was a dark and complicated answer. She wasn’t here to dump her messy history but to celebrate you and all your hard work. But the look in your eyes told Natasha it was okay. That all those hours spent together she could trust you.

“I dance to punish myself,” she admitted but your expression didn’t change. “In the Red Room, ballet was a form of punishment. We were forced to spend hours at the bar with perfect form; no breaks, no food or water, and we were beaten if our form faltered.” She felt your play with the hair that didn’t make it in her ponytail. “So when I fail I dance so I can remember that pain.” You hummed.

“And now?” You questioned. “Why do you dance with me if dancing brings you pain?” Natasha let out a breathless laugh. She was thankful she took off her jacket because, under the lights and the intensity of your eyes, she was feeling a little warm.

“Because,” she licked her lips. “You made me fall in love with dancing,” Natasha whispered. “Because I fell in love with you.” A small squeak left your throat at her confession. Natasha laughed, picking you up and spinning you around.

“I love you too,” she set you down. “I think I fell in love with you when you saved me in Chicago,” the Black Widow smiled. You brushed your nose against hers. “Kiss me,” you whispered. Natasha didn’t hesitate as she connected her lips with yours. The kiss was messy, desperate, and she tightened the hold she had on you as if she was afraid you were going to disappear. You pulled away but Natasha chased after your lips as she became addicted to the feeling of your lips. Luckily, you didn’t fight her. This kiss was gentle, slow, and soft. Natasha sighed against your lips and rested her head on your shoulder.

“Your so beautiful malen’kaya tantsovschitsa (little dancer),” she mumbled against your shin. She felt you shiver.

“Nat,” she hummed. “Sit with me,” you pulled away and Natasha stopped the whine from leaving her lips. She didn’t want to be away from you but you got her to sit down on the stage. You pulled out your phone, turned the music, and placed your phone down. You grabbed her hands. Natasha loved the feeling of your hands. They were soft and smooth, warm which was a stark contrast to her cold hands. When she danced with you, she didn’t allow herself the luxury to enjoy it. “I want you to listen to me. Can you do that for me, baby?” She felt her cheeks burn at the term of endearment but she nodded. “You are a hero,” she scuffed. According to the government, she was a sleeper agent ready to be activated She was a threat. “You are. Unfortunately, you were subjected to pain and torture at a young age,” Natasha couldn’t look at you so she stared at your connected hands. “You were forced to do horrible things because of that you think saving the world is strictly on your shoulders.” With a gentle hand, you used a finger to lift her chin.

“That is not your weight to bear, sweetheart,” you smiled. “I can’t imagine the guilt but your past shouldn’t limit your future. You deserve happiness and love.” It was getting harder for Natasha to hold back tears.

“I don’t,” she whimpered. You didn’t know the blood that covered her hands or how many lives she ended.

“Oh, baby, yes you do and I promise I will remind you every single day if you let me,” she nodded and you stood up on your knees, bringing her into a hug. Her body shook against you and she was grateful you didn’t draw attention to her tears. It felt good to cry, therapeutic. She couldn’t recall the last time she allowed herself to cry. In hindsight, it was such a basic human emotion but she never allowed herself to feel it. But as she cried in your arms, feeling a weight being lifted off her chest she felt safe. And loved.

*

When Natasha felt the buzzing, when the guilt began to feel all-consuming, and she was drowning from the bloodshed and screams, she didn’t turn to dance. Because dancing didn’t remind her of pain, of instructors yelling at her and other young girls to be perfect. Natasha would pull you closer to her chest and bask in the morning sunlight in your studio apartment. The faint smell of the lavender that you claimed helped you fall asleep, calmed her racing heart. She felt you stir, feeling slightly bad about waking you up. You moved onto your back, eyes blinking open slowly. Natasha smiled. “Hi baby,” your voice was slurred. The redhead traced the lines of your forehead, down to your nose, and lips. “A nightmare?” Sleep was clearing from your eyes. Natasha hummed in agreement. “What do you need?” Instead of answering, she kissed you slowly.

“I have everything I need right here,” Natasha whispered. “I love you, malen’kaya tantsovschitsa (little dancer).” You smiled.

“I love you, Natty.” Oh, Natasha was never going to get tired of hearing it. _

As a reminder my requests are open, it may take me some time to write them! I'll write for pretty much any character and not just Marvel!

Also, this AU was really cute. Like I said in the beginning if people want to see more, let know me! Especially if you have any ideas.

[miss-multi45]

Hallooooo!!

Do you think you could write any head cannons about a reader who’s very out of pocket or chaotic? I just read the one where they get injured very easily… (I loved it.) But short story short reader would basically jump out a moving vehicle for two quarters. (WITH THE GHOULS AND GHOULETTES I FUCKED IT IP RHE FIRST TOME HELP)

of course sweetheart ♡♡

swiss

"WAIT NO (Y/N) SODO DIDN'T MEAN IT WHEN HE ASKED YOU TO SWALLOW A TAMPON FOR 50 CENTS!-"

he either loves it, or is deeply concerned for you.

sodo

eggs you on.

bitch.

"if you swallow my cum nonstop for 4 rounds straight, i will be your slave for 3 weeks straight."

makes it nsfw.

rain

watches as you carry out these dumb af tasks.

eventually got tired of it and scooped you into his arms and carried you to the hospital wing because your arm was bleeding badly.

phantom

praises you for it.

"good boy / good little pet / good girl, i'm entertained."

after a few hours he beckons you back to your room because of how tired you are.

mountain

looks at you like 👁 👄 👁 when you tell him you jumped off a bridge into freezing waters for $50 / £50.

annoyed by the amount of time he spends patching up your wounds.

aether

does it with you.

makes sure you don't go too far.

takes care of you if you do go too far.

omega

"please stop doing it."

pinches his bridge and sighs when he sees you doing it.

drags you away kicking and screaming while he's just tired as hell.

alpha

"skinny dip with me, the ghouls, and mist and I'll give you head after."

literally has the most tame and chill requests for you.

ifrit

"if you let me knaw on your upper thigh for however long I want, I will let you polish my horns."

makes bargains with you like all the time and they are the most random selection of words you have ever heard.

aurora

"let me do your nails, and I will swap lingerie sets with you."

holds her hand out for a handshake like it's a matter of life and death.

cirrus

"sorry, what?"

watches you carry out these dumb asf tasks while she's completely dumbfounded.

cumulus

she'd either make a business out of it, or do it with you.

"sodo asked something, wanna do it together?"

mist

she does it too.

instead of money, they give her crystals.

"BABE! alpha said that if we form a truce with 4 wild badgers, he'd give me 12 amethysts. WE GOTTA DO IT-"

[yandere-sins]

Madness

a/n: I saw a dialogue prompt somewhere and this idea came to mind. Please head the warnings.

Characters: Yandere!Dottore x GN!Reader Fandom: Genshin Impact Warnings: Yandere, Extreme Violence (Reader violently killing someone, Reader cutting open someone’s stomach, Majorly implied amputation of reader’s limbs), Desperation, Mentally broken reader, Mention of drugs/medication/syringes/scalpels/blood/vomit(ting)/disfiguration/experimentation, Reader is a human guinea pig

"Ha... haha..."

Finally, you thought. It's quiet. So fucking quiet.

Nothing, not even your laugh or the clattering of the scalpel as it slipped from your hand, falling on the floor, could break the silence around you. It was over. You had no sense of time, no calendar to keep track of the days, weeks, months you must have been locked up for. But it was finally over, the blood on your hand a small price for ending all this madness.

You should have never trusted the Fatui. Their compassionate speeches and warm invitations. They swore to help you out of the poverty you lived in. They promised they'd give you a roof over your head and a warm meal a day if you joined them, but it never turned out like the glorious future they described to your vulnerable self. It had been too damn long, but you'd never forget your first meeting with The Doctor. You'd never forget that shark-toothed smile as he introduced himself with a handshake. Never forget the first time he tied you to a chair and told you it would 'only be a small sting'.

Days after days, he tortured you. One incision cutting out some of your skin here, a syringe with weird substances injected there. Him telling you to toughen up, and subtle threats made behind medical jargon. "You could lose your eye if you moved," and, "Be careful, or I might accidentally cut into the vein. You don't want to bleed out here, right?"

But what felt almost worse were his hands on your body. Gloved, not gloved, always searching and never resting. He treated you like a sculpture he was forming, placing you into positions he liked. Below him. At his feet. Forcing you to look up at him through dazes and nausea. Only then would he be careful with you, brushing sweaty hair from your face, offering to take you to a bath if you behaved in the next experiment. Telling you he never saw something as lovely as your cut-up and delirious self. That you were the best he ever had under his scalpel.

The sentences haunted you even in your dreams. If you could sleep, that is. Most nights, you laid awake, trembling from the drugs, throwing up from your memories, or tearing your hair out in agony after getting your medicine. You never signed up to be a guinea pig for this madman, but you were told someone had to do it. At first, you relented, seeing the much younger candidates they brought into the room instead of you, but eventually, you didn't care anymore. And Dottore ceased asking. He broke you; every day a little more. Never caring for your feelings, no matter how pitifully you begged and pleaded with him to let you go.

But now it was all over.

It took you long enough. Too long. You barely remained human at this point. Perhaps this outburst and attack on the person that did this to you was the most human about you now. The constant, nagging voice in your head was gone. It no longer blamed you for your naivety. Didn't scold you for crying or hurting yourself. Everything was quiet. Peaceful.

Ironic, you thought, looking down at the corpse at your feet. You stabbed him so many times, if not for the clothes—now died red—no one would have recognized him anymore. It only took one death for everything to be set on the right path again. You thought that killing would be harder than it ended up being, feeling like you now understood why it was so easy for Dottore to experiment on you. It got easier after the first time, the first stab. Then, only rage guided what followed, and soon, it was almost second nature.

Stepping back, you avoided glancing at the reflective surfaces. Not wanting to see the kind of monster you had become after all that happened. You'd never be welcome in your community again, though, if you were honest, you hadn't been before, either. Still, with looks this frightful, you'd have to hide somewhere far away for the rest of your life.

If you made it that far.

Surely the Fatui would not be pleased after what you did to their Harbinger. Life on the run wouldn't be very rewarding, but it would be better than what you went through here. Anything would be better—even death.

You didn't bother cleaning up the blood from your hands, clothes, or face. What good would it do? All you wanted was to leave. Leave this place and memories behind, and disappear forever from anyone's sight. You'd figure things out once you were outside. Once you were finally safe again. It couldn't get worse than what happened behind closed doors in this room. It just couldn't.

Except... it could.

Twisting the doorknob, you pulled. Again and again, you twisted, pulled, then tried to push, then banged against it. Even with all your weight thrown into it and used to remove the door from its frame, you made no progress. There were no windows. You only had this door from which the doctor used to enter and exit. In the beginning, you had been somewhere else, and then, someday, you woke up in this room, not remembering how you got here. You knew this must be your way out, so why wasn't it budging?

Staggering back, you looked at the corpse on the ground. The man you murdered. The very same man you hated with every fiber of your being. Turning over the corpse wasn't as hard as one might assume. Sticking your hands into places you never wanted to feel made you shake with disgust, but you pushed through it, goal in mind. There must have been something. A key, a code, anything. He must have locked the door somehow, and you needed it open before you began to choke on the dread of being locked in.

Nothing.

You turned every pocket inside out, ripped the clothes from his body, and put your hands where they didn't belong. Nothing. With your breathing heavy, you looked at the scalpel on the floor, a last, desperate thought crossing your mind. The idea that popped into your head seemed crazy. Why would he swallow a key he needed to get out? Who'd do something mad like this?

A mad doctor would. Dottore would.

It cost you less effort than you thought to cut open his stomach, find the organ you were looking for, and cut that open as well. Tears and blood went everywhere around you, with no way to discern the fluids leaking everywhere, but no metal dropped out of the mess you made. Frustrated, you threw the scalpel away. This time you couldn't help but wash, letting the icy-cold water run over your skin as you scrubbed off the remains of him until you barely felt your hands anymore.

When you were done with that, you moved on to your face.

It was hard to keep a clear head in situations like this, but as anyone would do, you tried to open the door again. Tears dropped from your eyes incessantly, and you pleaded with the exit to open, begging unknown powers behind its lock to let you out. Euphoria made way for cold, hard reality. You must have cried for hours, wailed, and screamed and shouted until no sound came out. Fear turned to anger, the height of hope into bottomless desperation. Realizing that you were locked in with the corpse of the seemingly only person who knew how to get out was terrifying. No amount of hugging or trying to soothe yourself with positive thoughts could banish the fear.

The loneliness.

You fell asleep a couple of times, only waking up to hunger pangs and thirst, but all you did was cry yourself back to sleep, knowing it was hopeless. After waking up for the third time, you forced yourself to the sink, drinking some water before throwing it up again, unable to keep the sickening cold down. It was cold on the floor, so you moved to the small bed you had been provided with, wrapping yourself in blankets. It was warm, but it did nothing to comfort you. The sleep cycle continued.

Without anyone there to tell you a new day had begun and it was time for a new experiment, you lost your sense of time completely. It could have been days. Or hours. All of this could have happened in the mere timespan of half a day. Who knew? Not you. The only things you knew now for sure were: the Fatui were bad people, you survived far longer than you probably should have, and you'd ultimately die here. Locked away and alone with the corpse of your abuser, having brought on your own demise.

Knowing that, you closed your eyes, hoping it would be over soon.

Only to awake to the soft humming of a person next to you, your body wrapped in tender warmth and feeling less sick and weak than you ever had before. You lived in the harsh coldness of Snezhnaya for years, and you never experienced such ease and peace on your worn-down body and mind. This must have been the afterlife. It was finally over.

"Hm? Look who decided to grace us with their presence again," a familiar voice teased. Someone picked up your hand, squeezing it between two warm palms, and you turned your head to the side to see who had woken you. Maybe it were the Archons. Perhaps you were in a better place now. A happier one.

But at the sight of the blueish strands of hair falling into a familiar face, red eyes drilling into you while a shark-toothed grin completed the look of your greatest nightmare, all you could do was roll over on your side, bile rising into your mouth before you toppled over, throwing up onto the bed and floor.

What a cruel fate, uniting you with your worst enemy, even in death. Dead he was. You made sure of it. There was no way that corpse with the cut-open stomach could come back to life. Absolutely no way. And yet, there he was, standing up and tsking at you before supporting your back as you kept throwing up the remnants of your own stomach.

"How silly you are. I'm hardly that ugly," Dottore sighed, a bitter jest in his voice.

"How...?" you gurgled, feeling like there was nothing left to throw up despite your body trying to desperately.

"Don't think I have forgotten what you did," he replied, rubbing your back attentively. "That wasn't very nice, you know?"

Still holding your hand with one of his, Dottore slowly helped you sink back on top of the pillow, your bed ruined with spew but seemingly not a concern for the doctor. He reached over to the nightstand to lift a cup of water to your lips, wetting them before pressing the container harder against them so you'd open up. It wasn't cold water, and it tasted bittersweet in your mouth, but you had no choice but to gulp it down, as the doctor insisted.

"However, for now, you should rest. I was so relieved I managed to get to you in time. I don't even want to imagine the trouble we would have to go through had I been too late."

"I wish you wouldn't have," you mumbled weakly. Slowly tears crept into your eyes as you stared defiantly at Dottore. His gaze was intense, but now that clarity forced its way back into your mind, all the hate and frustration you felt before stabbing him returned as well. It was almost as if nothing had changed. Almost as if you only fantasized about killing him and trying to escape. "I can imagine what it would be like losing you."

For a moment, Dottore was quiet. Then, a laugh broke from his lips. Hearty, amused, appalling. Reaching out, he touched your cheeks, wiping the tears from your eyes. No gloves separated you, the touch as intimate as it disgusted you. He never was like this. He never cared about your tears before. Dottore only ever focused on his selfish wants and not on yours. You must have shocked him real good for him to act so kindly. The thought crossed your mind.

"I'm glad neither of us needs to have these terrible thoughts then," he chuckled, turning around briefly. You heard the sound of metal as he arranged something on a table behind him, the sight covered by his body from your eyes. However, when he turned around, you caught a glimpse of the tools there, scalpels and saws.

"But I promise you," he spoke solemnly. "I won't let the same mistake happen again."

Gripping your arm, he pinned it down, your body not strong enough to move quickly as he pulled a firm leather strap across your body. When he tried to do the same with your legs, you tried kicking him to no avail, Dottore simply forcing your leg down after you missed.

"I underestimated your affinity for using your hands and legs, but they aren't necessary for what I have planned for you. And I don't make the same mistake twice."

Dottore turned around to the table, and you began to wiggle and squirm, trying to free yourself from the restraints before he came back. He knew what he was doing. One glance at the saw in his hand, and you wanted to throw up again, your mouth filling with bile.

"Feel free to scream. I will have no problem explaining the sounds to whoever can hear you. No one is going to come to rescue you. I won't let them. This is all for your sake. I don't even care you killed one of my clones. "

A mad grin played on his lips. Your eyes met, and you knew you'd never escape this. Never escape his madness. Not even when it ruined you entirely too.

It wouldn't need much to reach that point.

"You are my favorite little experiment, after all," he confessed, taking your hand in his and squeezing it tightly, almost reassuringly. The pressure rose as he pressed your hand to the bed, adjusting the saw just below your thumb, dangerously close to his own fingers.

And all you could do was scream as the pain united you.

[thegetoufather]

i am always here to talk about that man 🧍🏽‍♀️

ugh lem hes so dork boyfie coded i cant w him fwbs w benefits to lovers w him is eating my fricken brain!! the delicious miscommunications!!! I read this lovely little piece the other day and i cant get it out of my head so here is a gnawing thought i have inspired by that fic UGH.

warnings/premise: fwbs to lovers post sex fluff, uni au (kuroo in his 20s) cockwarming, dork kuroo, anti sex god propaganda, 18+ — the usual aman special

Your heart still hammers in your chest as you sit in the shattered remains of your arrangement with Kuroo. Yet nothing bleeds, the only thing you’re met with is the warmth of his kisses across every inch of skin he can find. The uncertainty you thought you would feel fades away, the gentle caresses of his touch causing you to melt against his chest.

Your head lifts up as he trails his fingers up your spine, a chaste kiss pressed against your forehead before he meets your eyes. He always look beautiful in the afterglow, with raven hair more mussed than usual and a flush painting his cheekbones. His eyes are always what you liked most, golden irises lit with a flame that would pool in your belly when he shows up at your door, that flame simmering to a comforting hearth when he massages your thighs after.

Except now, the look is different. Its adoration that doesn’t have to be tempered, a small smile playing on his lips when he sees you mirror the same look.

“So,” you begin.

“So.”

“This isn’t just casual anymore, is it?”

“That’s a wild thing to ask while I’m still inside you.”

“Kuroo!” You yelp, smacking him playfully on the chest. He responds in turn with one of his rooster cackles, the feel of the reverberation of his laugh in his chest making you smile even more.

“I thought we agreed you aren’t calling me that anymore.”

“Fine then, Tetsu.”

“Oh so I get a nickname now? You’re sooooo in love with me.”

“Shut up.”

A pause begins to enter in the space between you, the awkward question lingering in the air.

“So, um, how long have you, i mean, what made you want this to, y’know, be more?” You feel your heart pick up again after the question leaves your lips.

“Pretty soon after we started. I was never seeing anyone else but you.”

“What?!”

Kuroo’s eyebrows furrow at the disbelief in your voice. “Is that so hard to believe?”

You blink back him, slowly realizing he has no idea the impact he’s left on the girls on campus. All those whispers in the stands of his games, all the girls elbowing their way to talk to him at a party. All of that, meaningless to him.

“I mean, I just kept hearing people say things about you and I assumed —”

“That because everyone thinks I’m hot and sexy I’m sleeping with them?”

“Now that I’m talking with you, I’m realizing the reason you maintain that reputation is because more people haven’t seen this side of you.”

“Which is what?”

“A massive dork.”

“Correction, massively hot and sexy dork.”

You snort, rolling your eyes at his shit eating grin. “Why did you wait this long then?”

He puts a finger under your chin to tilt you towards him so you can meet his gaze. “I dunno, I guess I was scared too. I liked having you around so much and I thought if all you really wanted was sex, I could live with that. I wanted you in any capacity rather than none.”

The confession makes you warm, making your heart pick up again. But beneath your palms, his beat is steady, thrumming with the conviction in his words. You can feel your eyes start to swell, but instead you laugh, giggling at how stupid you’ve been to not see this sooner.

“So I guess we are both idiots, huh?”

“I guess we have been.” There’s a crooked smile on his face when he replies, followed by a calloused thumb coming up to wipe the tears that have rolled off your cheeks.

Kuroo clears his throat and sticks his hand out in between your bodies, as though he was initiating a handshake.

“Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Kuroo Testuro, buisness major, chem minor. Want to go out some time?”

[ya-zz]

Hi! I got a small idea for my Genji request, so I'll share it with you. Imagine growing up with the Shimadas, always being so close to them up, having promises of marrying the younger brother - until Genji's murder - resulting in reader's family backing them away completely due to fear of the actions. I would love if you could write a bit of how Genji would feel, what would he do when he finally sees reader again - since they're unhappily married off to a rich merchant. And a simple wish escapes their lips -- "Take me with you." -Nia

Oooo we love angsty Shimada stories! Hopefully this meets your expectations!

Genji x Reader (gen)

Word count: 1334

For the majority of your childhood years, you spent them with the Shimada’s, more specifically Hanzo and Genji Shimada. The two brothers were practically your brothers with the amount of time that you had spent with them. 

The three of you would play in the Shimada castle, running around playing tag or hide and seek. The elders let you, of course, you were kids after all. They allowed you to have fun despite their beliefs in raising the brothers. 

However, whilst Hanzo was growing older, his playtime grew shorter and he grew more intimidating. Less like a kid, but more of a boy following strict rules. Genji, on the other hand, was still running through the garden with you whenever you visited. While your parents discussed many a topic with his parents, the pair of you continued to play games. 

No matter the day, no matter the weather, Genji would always find something to do. Some days consisted of roaming the garden, or sat in his room playing games on his consoles. Other days the pair of you were trying to distract Hanzo or pulling him to come play with you despite his best efforts to decline. 

There were silly little games, one of which was pretending to be married to the younger brother. Both being a giggling mess, it caught the attention of your parents who then deemed it suitable for you to marry the younger Shimada. The elder Shimada’s agreed and with firm handshakes from both families, it was then set in stone. 

The older brother knew, of course, what was going to happen between his younger brother and you. He was told about most of the family affairs… and then he was told about all the wrong his brother was doing as they hit their young adulthood… 

Then the fateful day had arrived. Hanzo bit back what tears he had, straightened his attire before setting out to the training hall where he found his brother. Genji’s deep meditation came to a grinding halt when he heard footsteps approaching, and thinking nothing of it, tried to focus on his breathing once more. 

Spattered blood marked the floor as screams echoed around the room. Genji tried to run from the monster that was his brother but slash after slash came, cutting into his body and almost bleeding him dry. 

The pain was unbearable for the younger brother as his body lay limp on the ground, the life slowly fading from him as the last sight he witnessed was his brother standing over him, muttering “I’m sorry” as tears streamed down his face. 

Things weren’t the same from then on. Hanzo never saw the removal of his brothers body, assuming that the elders took care of it. The Shimada clan kept it on the downlow, nobody knew that Genji was murdered, just that he mysteriously vanished that night.

From there on, your family completely withdrew you from the Shimada’s, more so in fear of what would happen to you if you were to do something wrong. Rumours were quickly spread around Hanamura; how the Shimada’s assassinated the younger boy, or how he ran away after some unfortunate event. Some ladies claimed he ran from his shame. 

If only they truly knew… 

Genji knew. 

He was still alive. 

His appearance had change significantly. From what he was, a human boy, to a half cyborg man. At first, he hated his body, but there was something that was eating away at him more so than his hatred of himself. 

He wondered what you would think. 

Where are you? Are you okay? Does Hanzo still speak of me? Is my family treating you well? I miss you. I want to get married to you again. Remember our childhood days? I was so happy with you, I felt at home with you. You were someone I trusted, someone I felt safe with… Where are you, [y/n]? How is life treating you?

So many questions that were to be left unanswered as he laid in this uncomfortable medical bed being fed through a tube as his body recovered. 

Do you still think of me, [y/n]? I’m still thinking of you. I need you here. Please… Someone tell [y/n] that I’m alive… I need to see them… 

Someone would probably consider it possessive, obsessive even. His head isn’t on right, too high on drugs. He had muttered your name more times than one, medics trying to unscramble the words that spilled over. 

Days turned into weeks and those weeks into months and while Genji was still recovering, his mind was still replaying his childhood. The days he spent running with you in the garden, hiding under his bed from Hanzo, beating you at video games. Then he wondered where everything went wrong. Why did he deserve to be cut up like his? Why did he have to be mutilated? Why by his own brother?

—

Spring in Hanamura was serene. With the cherry blossoms falling to the asphalt below, the residents continued to prepare for the spring festivals. The streets were bustling with life, stalls were being set up and the smell of food seeped through every open window within the vicinity. 

The majority of the residents had forgotten about the whole Shimada situation, having happened several years prior. By forgetting and moving on, they were doing themselves a favour. 

However, there was one household in particular that didn’t forget, and that was yours. Not a night went by when you didn’t think about the missing Shimada. You had begged night and day with Hanzo and the elders for them to tell you what had happened but they refused each request. 

Eventually, you gave up begging, you gave up looking for answers. You just had to accept that Genji was gone. 

You had to accept that you were married to someone you didn’t even love. You shared the same bed with this man, had sex with him many nights in the week but each time was just to satisfy his needs.

You did not want him. 

You wanted Genji. 

Each day you hoped he would appear, a miracle in itself if he truly was murdered. So when you wandered through the festival streets that were overcrowded with vendors and customers, you had to look twice at the man who was stood in the middle of the street. 

Despite the hood and the metal, those eyes had never felt more familiar, so when the man turned and ducked into a nearby alley, you followed. Squeezing through the tight gap, you ended up on an empty street and there he was, stood beside the wall on the left. 

“[y/n].” That voice… 

“Genji…” You muttered, almost in disbelief. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.” He responded as his hand came up to caress your cheek to which you leaned into without hesitation. “I have been so scared. I only wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay.”

“You’re alive.” With a quiet voice and tears pricking your eyes, all you could do was stare at him. “What happened to you?” 

“That is a long story.” He looked down at your hands as he grabbed them. “You are married?” 

“I wish I wasn’t.” You half smiled. “Genji…” 

“I know.” He sighed. “Are you happy?” 

You shook your head. “No. Every night I laid awake thinking about you.” 

Genji chuckled. “Maybe we just weren’t meant to be in this life.” His tone was full of sadness, it was pained. 

“I still want to be with you.” 

The ninja cupped your cheeks before he pressed his forehead against yours. “I know, koibito.” Genji then placed the metal half of his face against your cheek, mimicking a kiss. 

“This is goodbye…?” Tears pricked your eyes once more as you stared at him. He only nodded before turning and vanishing into the night.

Before he truly left, however, he heard your final request, one that pained him deeply. 

“Take me with you…”

[aimfor-theheart]

wolfwood office au but hes a new employee (and ex felon) and youre assigned to help the new hire

anon i love you this is so specific. have you been thinking about this for awhile or something.

office au

wolfwood x reader

cw: maybe like. potential workplace flirting. reader flusters easily and has glasses. reader referred to as "miss"

∘₊✧───────────────────✧₊∘

you adjust the glasses slipping down your nose, flicking through the paperwork on your desk. it's already a little rumpled somehow and you smooth it out carefully. your neat, french manicure gleams in the stark light from the window beside you. your cup of tea sits cooling beside your cup of adorably colored pens.

you read the filled in answers, written in messy scrawl, the ink bleeding across the page. there's a coffee stain in the corner. and—tobacco stains, maybe? a burnt orange dash of color near the bottom.

your eyes flit across the page.

you catch the checked box next to have you been convicted of a felony in the last five years? the little dash beside the yes stands out sharply for a moment.

carefully, you keep a neutral face and keep reading. there's no space to see what crime he may have committed and you certainly won't ask. it doesn't matter, anyways. he got the job, didn't he? and besides, before the felony, his resume is rather impressive. seems like he made some incredible deals—damn near a con man—

you shuffle through more of the papers. you'll have to file all of them.

a knock on the wall beside your desk.

you pick your head up to take in an unfamiliar man. tall and broad shouldered, all shaggy raven hair and olive brown skin. he's handsome in that roguish, wild way. he's in a suit, at least, sharp looking. his ears are pierced. some rings on the fingers that rapped against the wall to get your attention.

"i heard you're my new assistant."

your brows raise. he doesn't exactly look like what you imagined the new vice president of sales to look like, but here he is nonetheless. he's younger than you'd thought he'd be. but when he smiles, you could see how it might be smarmy enough for sales.

"nicholas?" you ask in response, rising from your desk to greet him with a handshake.

"nick's fine. i heard you could show me the ropes around here a little." and this time when he smiles, he really takes you in.

your hand is so small in his.

you don't know why but heat touches your face. you pull your hand away from his quickly and adjust your glasses again to look up at him. "alright, nick. it's—um, nice to meet you."

"nice to meet my next partner in crime, too."

you swallow. funny choice of words that—

"and—yes. i can do that—show you around, i mean. i'll help finish getting you onboarded."

he glances around at your desk area; the flourishing plants and the color-coded pens and cute mouse pad. everything is in its place. even the papers of his you'd been reading are laying neatly on your desk.

"you seem...organized." he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, wandering a little closer to your desk. "which is good—i'm no good at that shit."

you clear your throat, "that's what i'm here for." your eyes flick over him; the lopsided smile and the cursing and the faint smell of tobacco clinging to him. and a cologne—something muskier. amber. and tonka. it's not that he looks like an ex felon or doesn't—just that, he isn't exactly what you were expecting either way. "shall we?" you ask.

he inclines his head, gesturing for you to go first like some kind of faux-gentleman. "after you, miss."

you smile nervously and turn, "um—i guess i can start with the tour?"

"that the fastest way to get coffee around here?" he asks, trailing behind you, your massive shadow.

you peak over your shoulder at him, glasses slipping down your nose again, "um—you can just ask me too, if you want—the old vice president of sales asked all the time—"

"not gonna make you get my coffee. you'll be doing more important shit for me than that." he says casually, and his eyes lock with yours again.

you quickly duck away from his gaze, focusing ahead. you shove your glasses back up your nose.

"i like your glasses, by the way. cute frame. they fit you." he says easily.

heat smarts your face. you blink rapidly.

"uh—thank you, nicholas."

"nick's fine, miss."

"nick. right." you say, swallowing around the name, "thank you."

"i'm real excited to work with you—i think this is gonna be a great pairing."

and you don't turn around to see it, but you can practically imagine the smile in his voice. just on the wrong side of wolfish.

in another universe writing game!

[weird-an]

Angel!Argyle dominates Demon!Billy :3

tw: Billy is missing one wing

Billy has been tempting humans for centuries now. To be honest, it's fucking boring. He'll bat his eyelashes, play with a curl of his blond hair and get them to do everything he wants - or rather, has to.

At least he doesn't have to do stupid crossroad deals anymore. These are boring and lonely. Being able to roam San Diego is lovely. Even if it sometimes means sucking it up to businessmen who are so greedy they'd end up in hell either way. To be honest Billy gets them a "skip the line" ticket.

"Thank you," the guy says, after he sealed his fate with a handshake and the nudge he needed to betray his company and leave the country. "You're a real angel."

"I've been called that." Billy grins, showing all his teeth, ignoring the shiver the word sends down his spine. It's not even a lie - thought that had been ages ago and he can't remember heaven, just a fleeting feeling of light and feeling out of place.

He watches the business suit leaving and decides that this is enough work for at least a month. Neil will hate his report either way, so fuck him. Time to get drunk.

"You shouldn't let him call you an angel," a warm voice behind him says.

Billy sighs. Of course, once he decided to carpe the fucking diem, one of heaven's killjoys shows up.

"Why? You're going to tell the big guy upstairs on me?" Billy sticks his tongue out. He has never met this angel. But he knows one when he sees one.

He's pretty. Black hair nearly reaching his hips and a smile so bright it's like Billy can see his halo.

"No," the angel grins. "But I don't like lies."

"Lying comes with the job - and you should mind your own business," Billy sneers. It's exhausting. Hell wants this, heaven wants that and Billy just wants a fucking break.

The angel steps closer. A knowing look on his face - and Billy isn't quite sure, what he knows.

They are in the middle of a bar and no one looks at them. It's disturbing. Billy needs to be looked at or hell will swallow him whole and never spit him out again.

There's an herby smell surrounding the guy, almost like - Billy frowns. There's a joint tugged behind the angel's ear.

"What kind of angel smokes weed?" he blurts out.

"What kind of demon likes to be called angel?" the angel retorts. He puts his hand on Billy's shoulder, thumb stroking the pulse Billy has learned to control after he crashed down to earth - but that now is running wild.

"I don't like it," he says. It sounds meek, even in his own ears. Neil would sent him to the pit for it.

"I don't like lies," the angel repeats, voice still warm and weirdly friendly. "It's not natural for me."

It's not natural for Billy either. It's a second skin that hurts every day, one he needs to survive, one he loathes.

His hand leaves Billy's shoulder, cupping his cheek. A touch that doesn't hurt, a touch that's soaked in mercy and goodness and all the things that aren't for Billy. It burns and Billy wants more.

"Fuck," Billy groans. Shame burns next to longing, for something he can't quite put his finger on. An angel of all possible beings seeing right through him.

"What's your name?"

"Billy," he says. He isn't William, he has never been William, no matter how many times heaven and then later Neil wanted him to be.

"My name is Argyle," the angel says. "Can you try to be good for me?"

Billy wants. It's what sent him away, what made him an outcast even in hell. It's what he has never been allowed to.

"I can't." Argyle's other hand is on his throat, not choking, giving only a slight squeeze. The stars Billy has watched for aeons dance before his eyes. "You know I can't."

He's a demon and even before he wasn't enough. He is all but good.

The bar around them fades and they are in a cabin, hell know where, lush plants, soft pillows and vibrant colors everywhere. It must be Argyle's place. Tension bleeds out of Billy's shoulders.

"I think you can." Argyle's hand stops caressing his cheek and grips Billy's curls. Tugs them, so hard pain starts blooming, but soft enough that it's sweet.

"You're an angel" he says, because there's a heat beginning to boil in his lower belly, searing hot. "You shouldn't..."

"Find joy?" Argyle asks. "Make you feel good?"

His dark eyes finds Billy's. "Can I make you feel good?"

"Yeah," Billy breathes, the first confession he has spoken in years. He needs to be, he wants to be and Argyle is so different - from all the other entities Billy ever met before. He's more human, but that doesn't make him less ethereal.

Argyle's mouth is on his, a kiss first tender, more a question than an answer. Billy can't remember if he ever kissed like this. Their tongues meet, swirling and hungrier the longer the kiss lasts.

Argyle pushes him - slightly. They end up in the midst of a pile of pillows and the world around Billy is a blur of red, blue and green.

Argyle's hands stroke his skin, undressing him, fingers wandering from his chest to his belly and there are tears prickling in Billy's eyes.

"Open up," Argyle whispers and it's the first order, maybe ever, Billy wanted to follow. There's still a voice in his mind, sounding like Neil, that he's listening to one of them, to an angel, but Argyle's lips are on his again and it's just so easy to let go.

He spreads his legs. Argyle rubs a finger against his hole.

"Good," he smiles. He moves and his fingers press into Billy. Two at once, scissoring inside him, rubbing against a spot Billy didn't know was there.

Pleasure is no stranger, but for the first time Billy wants more. He moves his hips forward.

"Behave," Argyle says, slapping his ass. It burns, but in a way that turns the pleasure hotter.

"I'm not a fucking -"

Argyle grabs his chin. "You want to be good, don't you?"

There's this stupid word again, that makes Billy's cock throb.

Argyle's dick brushes against his hole, pulls Billy down to sit on it and Billy keens, dizzy from what's happening and what's about to come.

He breaches him and it's like Billy is on fire, but not the way he's used to. One thrust and he's groaning.

Argyle fucks into him. Clearly not a stranger to pleasure. He's hitting Billy's prostate hard. Billy forgets to breath. He doesn't need it. He only needs the arms around him and that warm smile that is still there.

He's leaking precome, his aching dick trapped between their bellies.

"See? You can be very good, Billy."

Argyle laughs in his ear, a song Billy wants to remember for centuries.

The world blurs and Billy only halfway registers that Argyle's wings spread out, nearly reaching the ceiling. He knows his own is there, too, but he's so high on pleasure, he doesn't care.

Argyle pants, thrusts again and suddenly Billy's vision blanks, all white joy exploding inside him. He comes, whole body trembling and the world around him shaking.

Argyle whispers in his ear, tells him he's doing well, that he's proud and all Billy can do is whine, his skin tingling. Argyle follows shortly after with groan getting tangled with a laugh, the happiest noise Billy ever heard.

Argyle still has his arms around Billy. He strokes his black feathers, carefully.

Billy's heart flutters like his wing can't anymore. He knows what's left is charred and ugly.

"You're beautiful," Argyle whispers - like Billy's wings aren't the proof he isn't. "A real angel."

Billy knows lies, can see them and taste them from miles around - but this isn't one. Tears burn in his eyes. He bites his tongue. This is embarrassing.

Argyle wraps his wings around them. Billy's limbs are tired. Argyle's hand is still buried in his feathers. No one has held him like that. It's calming, it feels safe. He buries his face in the nape of Argyle's neck and pretends he isn't crying.