#As long as there’s little to no property damage he’s fine

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 173

Danny might have made a mistake. On one hand, thankfully, his class hasn’t realized he’s Phantom, which is good. On the other hand, he’s somehow become their arms dealer after maybe, just maybe er, being done with Skulker’s shit when he was just trying to do his test and er… maybe beating him to a pulp. As Danny Fenton. 

Well, the good news is apparently everyone now thinks that he doesn’t fight back lest he accidentally snap someone’s spine. Which is honestly kind of nice to not have to deal with the harassment anymore. 

How has he become the fenton technology arms dealer though?! Legitimately, he has no idea how it happened except for sleep deprivation and someone mentioning how one of the places that they might be going to for the field trip was Gotham. 

At least everyone has their weapons and knows how to use them when some sort of clown-masked people decide to break into the mall and attempt to take them hostage. So. He guess he can’t complain, and at least he got food that doesn’t come alive in exchange. 

[lovebugism]

Okay soooooooo

How bout something like King Steve picking on shy!reader, then later finding out she has a shitty home life plz

ty for requesting!! this can be read as a prequel to this fic — steve comforts you when he accidentally makes you flinch (enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, cw for brief mentions of abuse, 1.8k)

Sitting alone at the Hellfire table, you feel a little like fishbait. 

Your spot in the very back of the cafeteria is normally full and loud — with Dustin’s bickering, and Eddie’s laughing, and Gareth’s stupid jokes — but they’re not here now. They’re off getting their trays while you sit in wait for them (and the cold fries you’ll ultimately steal from Eddie’s plate). It leaves you perfect prey for circling sharks.

You hear laughter from behind you, over the sounds of the bustling lunch room. You’re certain they’re laughing at you — ‘cause you always think someone’s laughing at you — but you try hard to ignore it. You disregard the subtle pang of anxiety in your chest and stick your nose in your book, eyes flitting across the words without reading any of them.

Someone flumps down at your side then, where Mike usually sits. The overwhelming scent of spiced cologne stings your nostrils. With watering eyes, you look beside you. At Tommy fucking Hagan.

“Hey, Wallflower,” he greets like it’s normal — like he hasn’t spent the past four years pretending you don’t exist. You think he only calls you Wallflower now because his friends have been doing it for so long they don’t remember your real name.

The boy props his elbow on the table and puts his chin in his fist, trying hard to hide his boyish beam and accompanying laughter. He fails.

You cower at his presence, all but shrinking into yourself. “…Hi?” you reply in a tiny voice.

“How’s it hangin’?”

“...Fine?”

“That’s great!” he answers instantly, like he hadn’t heard you at all. “You see, my friend Steve, over there— you know him, right?”

You don’t bother to look where he’s pointing. Of course, you know Steve The Hair Harrington. You don’t think there’s a single person in Hawkins who doesn’t.

You nod in response.

Tommy’s smile widens. “Well, he’s got this massive crush on you,” he confesses, choking back a laugh halfway through. “I mean, he talks about you all the time.”

You know he’s lying. And not just because he’s grinning so hard that his eyes are crinkled and his freckled cheeks are turning pink. You’re almost certain Steve Harrington doesn’t even know who you are. He never had a reason to. Why would the King of Hawkins High ever stoop so low to know someone like you?

You glance at him over your shoulder, a couple tables down from you. He’s almost magnetically pretty. You couldn’t ignore him if you tried — with his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his pretty smile. His golden cheeks flush as all his friends start poking fun at him. 

He rolls his eyes and scoffs a laugh you can tell is forced from here. He doesn’t think any of this is funny. You can see it on his face. But he isn’t trying to stop it all from happening. You’re just collateral damage, really.

You turn back to Tommy with a disbelieving look in your eye.

He continues to ramble despite it. “He was just a little nervous coming up to you, that’s all. So I thought I’d do him a favor and slip you his number. You know, as his wingman and all.” He tosses a folded-up index card onto the pages of your opened book. “You should call him tonight— It’ll make his day, I swear.”

He pats you a little too hard on the back before he goes. His laugh echoes over all the rest when he sits back down at his table. You watch them over your shoulder as they fall over themselves to crack jokes about you. 

Steve’s the only one not smiling. “Not cool, Tommy,” he mouths.

—————

Locker 148. The one right across from yours. Property of Steve The Hair Harrington. 

You shove the thick card with his number written on it between the slits in the metal. You’d carried it around all day, utterly unsure of what to do with it. You decided ultimately to return it, figuring he might feel a little better if a total stranger didn’t have his phone number.

You struggle to slide it through the thin gap, though. The paper gets caught halfway through, and you try to yank it back out again. The old locker moves with you, like it’s not completely shut but still somehow latched. 

You’re so in your own head you don’t hear the gymnasium door down the hall squeal open and shut again. Steve pants heavily and tries to recover from a ruthless basketball practice. He hunts for a water fountain and finds you instead.

“What are you doing?” he calls as he nears you, not malicious or unkind but genuinely curious.

Your heart lurches into your throat as you all but jump out of your skin.

Steve laughs, a pretty sound in the silent hallway. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” you assure with an averted gaze, though your frightened demeanor says otherwise. “I was just— I was trying to give you this.”

You hold the paper out towards him. He takes it with hesitant hands. “What is it?”

“Your number. Tommy gave it to me earlier, and I know it was just a stupid joke, so I… I thought you’d feel more comfortable if I gave it back to you.”

Something in Steve’s chest aches. He doesn’t understand why you would care about what might make him comfortable. It’s not like he ever gave you the time of day — or ever tried to stop his friends from being total assholes. As far as he’s concerned, you’re the last person who should give a shit about him.

“Oh. Right— Yeah… Thanks,” he stammers and shoves the thing into his pocket. “And I’m— I’m sorry about Tommy and everything. He can be a real douchebag sometimes. I didn’t… I didn’t tell him to bother you or anything—”

“I know,” you assure in a mousy voice. “Tommy gave me your number hoping I’d be dumb enough to call while your friends were over so you could all… laugh at me? I guess. He could’ve been a little more original, honestly.”

Steve cracks a smile. He almost laughs, but he can’t tell if you’re joking or not.

“I’ll talk to him later. Tell him to leave you alone—” He rambles and walks closer to you. You watch him with tentative eyes as he approaches. “—He’s a total dumbass sometimes, but he usually means well. Most of the time, anyway—”

Steve raises his hand suddenly. And, because you’re frightened by everything little thing, you flinch and stumble over yourself in the process. The lockers catch your fall, and you hit the back of your head. Hard.

“Shit— Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you squeak, holding the crown of your hair and squinting as your skull pounds.

Steve rushes to your side, then idles just ahead of you because he doesn’t know if you want him touching you. His brows pinch, chiseled features swimming with concern. His cinnamon eyes glitter with it, too. “I wasn’t trying to scare you—”

“It’s okay.”

“—My locker was just jammed. I was going to shut it.”

The metal door is open now, from where it wasn’t shut all the way and where you just smacked your head on it.

“I just wasn’t expecting it,” you assure in a tight voice, trying hard to ignore the sharp throbbing. “It’s fine. I’m fine—”

“You’re hurt.”

“It’ll go away—”

“Let me get you an icepack.”

“—I’ll be fine once I get home.”

Steve, feeling purely at fault and aching at how effortlessly you shrug him off, decides to approach you fully. He curls a warm hand around the outside of your elbow. A touch surprisingly gentle. “No. C’mon. Let me help.”

You don’t feel much like you’re in any position to fight him about it. Not with the world still swaying under your feet. 

Steve guides you the short distance to the empty cafeteria. Slow and kind and dreadfully patient. He sits you down, makes sure you’re still okay, and then rushes to fix you a makeshift icepack — a ziplock bag filled to the brim with chipped ice.

He sits at the chair beside yours, slightly askew so his knees bump your thighs. He holds the pack to the crown of your head and gazes at you attentively. You’re not looking back at him to see it.

“Does it still hurt?”

You shrug, eyes flitted to the wringing hands in your lap. “It’s fine. It just feels a little like I have a migraine.”

Steve winces. “I’m sorry.”

Your doe eyes peek at him from beneath your lashes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I scared you.”

“Everything scares me.”

It’s a dumb joke. You mean it, but you still expect him to laugh about it. He doesn’t even crack a smile, though. He just keeps looking at you with that puppy-like twist to his features. The worry is evident in his face. 

“Do you wanna, like, talk about it or something?”

“About what?”

“Why you flinched.”

You freeze, breath hitching in your throat. No one’s ever noticed your incessant panic — outside of making jokes about it anyway. No one’s cared enough to ask about it, either. Steve Harrington is the last person you expected any kind of concern from.

You shake your head after a few long moments. “No.”

“You could,” Steve assures, suddenly shy. You didn’t know he could be anything other than totally full of himself. “You know, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t tell anyone—”

You scoff a disbelieving laugh.

Steve’s features swirl with hurt. You hate that it makes your chest ache. You hate most that he hasn’t stopped being soft with you. The hand holding the pack to your head hasn’t yet wavered, even though you know his arm must be tired now.

“I wouldn’t. ‘Cause I— I know what it’s like to… to have a bad home life or whatever,” he confesses, stammering hopelessly. He forces a laugh at himself. “Probably more than most people do, honestly.”

His admission takes you by surprise. It comforts you in a way you didn’t think someone like him could. 

Even still, you shake your head. “I— I can’t—” you murmur, clearing your throat when the words get stuck there. “I can’t talk about it…”

Steve nods, firm and reassuring. “That’s okay. You don’t have to, I was just… I was just saying, you know? I get it.”

You swallow through a tight throat, nodding wordlessly in response.

“Plus, you know, you have my number and everything… If you ever wanted to talk…”

You flash him a timid look and crack a quiet smile. “I gave it back to you, remember?”

“I’ll write it down for you again,” he promises with a shrug and a lopsided grin. It’s easier to ignore his aching arm and the ice stinging his palm when he’s looking at you. “For real this time.”

[unorthodoxfaithxx]

Yandere Ghost Smut

afab reader ; nsfw

“This house is totally perfect! You’ll love it,” is what your realtor told you when they finally found a house within your budget. You loved the aesthetics of historical homes, so when they discovered an older house that not only was in your price range, but had just minor damages, they called you immediately. 

You moved in within the month. It didn’t take long to settle into your new home. There was a room with shelves meant for books, and you spent most of your free time there, enjoying the books from your collection that could rival a library. Sometimes, you would feel a sudden chill in the air when reading, and grow pensive. It would feel like someone was watching you. But besides that, nothing was out of the ordinary. You just assumed you were too stressed out and growing paranoid as a result. Everything was fine.

Well, it was. Until you started waking up with strange markings on your body. You woke up one day in a cold sweat, waltzing into the bathroom to wash your face off, only to find what looked like hickeys on your neck and upper chest area. Weird. Did you have bugs in the bed? Was it an allergic reaction to the new detergent you bought for the sheets? You had no idea. 

You were never able to solve the issue because the markings disappeared within a few hours, and didn’t come back again. Once more, you shrugged it off and assumed nothing was amiss. 

Yet eventually, things got even stranger. Your panties started disappearing one-by-one, and you were sure you hadn’t misplaced them. Specifically, your already worn undergarments would disappear from the dirty laundry bin before you could wash them. What the fuck?

“I don’t know, Mary,” you call your best friend one afternoon, “I feel like this place is haunted. And what’s even weirder is I keep getting these wet dreams…like every night. I’m not even sexually frustrated so I don’t know why I wake up wet or with markings on myself.”

“Maybe you got a ghost fucking ya?” She jokes around and you both get a laugh out of that. But for some reason, the deepest part of your being can’t dismiss that thought. 

You begin to grow paranoid and start searching for any signs in your house that someone else is living with you. You decide to enter the dusty attic, and find rather antique furniture and a box containing a photo of a man and a woman. He was handsome, albeit a little creepy looking, but what struck you as odd was woman next to him. She looked eerily like you. You brought the photos downstairs to do some research on your computer, but alas, found no information on the man or the woman. The only thing you found out was that there was a fire that had damaged the property all too many years ago. You felt the creepy sensation of being watched again, and called it quits for the night, opting to get some much needed rest.

That night, you saw him.

————————————————————

It’s midnight when he appears in your room, watching your beautiful self slumber. You were so perfect, all those years ago when you left him, and even now. He loves the way the sheets drape your body, but slowly peels them off to reveal that you’re in nothing but a bra and panties. There is a slight sheen of sweat on your skin as your eyebrows furrow cutely in your sleep. 

His angel must be having a nightmare, but he can take care of that. Gently, he trails his cold fingers over your curves. He admires your beauty, so happy to see you once more. He can’t wait another minute.

While you’re still on your side, he unclasps your bra, relishing the way your tits fall free without the support. They look so beautiful and perfect, he can’t even begin to describe how enchanted you make him feel. 

You roll onto your back. He slides your underwear to the side, revealing your pretty cunt to his ghostly eyes. With a delicate touch, he rubs your clit in small circles, playing with you. 

You gasp at the touch and he smirks. Your shuffling does little to deter him from his objective.

He’s on the bed with you, intently staring at your lower half. He admires your folds and moves them open and closed with his fingers, revealing a leaking hole that was your wetness. With a gulp, he slides your underwear off you, wadding it into a ball, burying his face into it as he takes a whiff of your scent. He’d be tasting the real thing soon enough. Once satisfied, he pockets your undies for safe keeping. He tilts his head down to your lower body, shifting into a more comfortable position. With a breath of anticipation, he slithers his cold tongue over your vagina, moaning slightly at the sensation. 

He’s been doing this every night he could manifest, and it never got tiring.

This time, and he doesn’t know why, you wake up, staring down at the mysterious man in terror as he laps you up like a man thirsting in the desert. You mean to run but you can’t move. You feel something cold and wet tying your body to the bed. You try to close your legs from your violator, but his icu hands grip firmly on your thighs, keeping them wide open for him to shove his face between. 

Under the moonlight, the two of you make eye contact but he doesn’t stop, instead opting to send you a wicked smile. “Good morning, love,” he says gently from beneath you. “I missed you so, so much. You know that?”

You’re in a state of shock, words screaming in your head but not quite reaching your vocal chords. The only sound you can make is a whimper as he shoves his tongue further into you, his nose rubbing you causing further pleasurable friction. He sucks, licks, and rolls your clit with his tongue. 

Suddenly, he slides a cold finger into your hole and you gasp, arching your back only to be stuck back down again. “Don’t move, pretty thing,” he scolds you. 

“F-fuck,” you finally manage to whisper, heart racing, “Who are you?”

“Someone who’s been watching you for a very, very long time.” He’s stopped licking you, instead moving to pump another finger into your pretty cunt, thrusting in and out at a moderate pace. His eyes show so much love, desperation, and lust in them that you have no idea what to do or where to go. Then it clicks. The man from the photo. That’s who he was. How could that be possible? Was he an actual ghost?

“I’ve been so lonely without you, princess. When you left me to burn, do you know how heartbroken I was? But now you’re back, and we can finally be together again. I’m not letting you leave me another time.”

He now has three fingers inside of you, picking up the pace. The lewd sound of slick fingers sliding in and out of your cunt drives him wild. His face is back between your thighs again, lapping you up and suckling on you until you’re visibly shaking. 

“Aw, sweet girl. Gonna cum?”

You don’t want to, but you feel something hot and heavy coming.

“Shit. Cum in my mouth, sweetheart. Wanna taste everything you got.” He latches back onto you. 

Your stomach drops and you let go, mind very distressed but body obviously in heaven. Your pussy spazzes out on him and he moans as he licks up the mess you leave behind. With a wipe of his mouth he grins, eying you like a rare prize he had just one at the fair.

He grabs onto you, embracing you in a hug you can’t run away from. Seriously, why can’t you move? He notices your struggles and laughs, snuggling into your chest. 

“Ah ah ah, no running away, love. I’ve waited so long for you. You’re not going anywhere.”

He flips you to where you’re face down, ass up. Your vagina is dripping, juices sliding down your thigh. He licks his lips before biting his lower one, admiring the roundness of your ass and your now puffy and pink pussy. 

“Oh, love. You got no idea what you do to me…”

You feel something cold and hard tap the entrance of your walls, and you freeze. Oh god, was he going to fuck you? His hands are on the sides of your ass, but you feel another set of cold hands grabbing your arms, and even another pulling at your tits. You whimper at the overstimulation.

“Enjoy the hands. They’re all me.”

Before you can reply, he’s sliding his dick through your entrance. Your pussy quivers at the sensation and he laughs. “Did you just come from that, love?”

Once you take all of him, he leans forward to whisper in your ear. “I want to hear you moan, sweetheart. Go on, make some noise for me.”

As he’s taking you from behind, a hand shoves its fingers into your mouth, and you gag on it. The sets of hands on your breasts are now fondling them, pinching and squeezing. You’ve never felt so much at once before, and you eventually yield to the pleasure, moaning as he thrusts into you.

“That’s it, baby. Take it. Take it all. You’re fucking mine,” He snarls, and you whine at how hard he’s pounding into you, ferocity now evident in his demeanor. 

You slurp and suck on the fingers, only for it to pop out of your mouth and slide into your ass instead. You cry out at the sensation. A hand is sliding circles around your clit as he fucks you, sending waves of pleasure over your body you’ve never known before. 

“Too much!” You cry, sobbing with pleasure.

He gives you a kiss on the neck. “Almost done, love. Just keep taking it, okay? You’re doing so good for me. God, you’re fucking perfect.” His thrusts became sporadic, and you know he’s close. 

In the end, you come once more, and you feel he does too. When he pulls out, you collapse on the bed, blacking out. Morning eventually comes, and you feel someone is holding you from behind. A set of hands grope your body as you wake up. 

“Morning, love. Ready for round two?”

[woniefull]

I can’t be your love

you’re in love with jay

but does he feel the same?

you can’t quite figure that out

warnings/heads up: female character, beginning is a bit slow?? little angsty🎀, fluff, minimal curse words, small kisses here and there…I lowkey suck at building up chemistry/romance so please give tips thank you😞😞😞🙏🙏🙏

wc: idek but hella long that’s for sure

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

There he was.

You always lingered in the halls in hopes of getting even just a glimpse of him. His soft dark brown hair. Eyebrows that somehow looked better than yours. His cheesy little smile that seemed to never falter.

Park Jongseong. Or Jay for short. He was a junior, just like you. But he had this level of maturity that many boys around his age couldn’t reach even if they tried.

He was a gentleman. That’s what you liked about him. He was kind to everyone.

No wonder he had so many admirers.

“You’re going to get caught one day you know?”

You quickly turn around and meet the eyes of your best friend, Liz.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You’re pretty sure your face has turned completely red judging from the way Liz is giggling at you.

“You’re so obvious. I don’t know why you haven’t tried to strike up a conversation with him, you clearly like him.”

Liz has stopped giggling now and peaks behind your shoulder to get a glimpse of your little crush.

“Judging by the way things are looking right now I’d say you need to act fast.”

You quickly turn around to see what she was talking about.

The once lonely Jay now had a girl by his side. They were laughing about something. He was wearing that cheesy smile you loved. There was a burning feeling at the pit of your stomach.

“Oh.”

“Oh? Yeah I think you need a break, let’s go.”

Liz took you by the hand and walked you to your next class.

———————————Time Skip———————————

It was cooking class now. Usually you would be beaming knowing you shared this class with Jay, but the moment you witnessed earlier had given you a twisted feeling.

“Okay class today is the start of a new semester. Which means new cooking partners. I would like you guys to partner up with someone you don’t usually talk to, trust me I know who you guys talk to.”

Maybe I should try to partner up with Jay. It wouldn’t hurt to try right? They might be just friends too, I’m looking much too into it.

You quickly scan the room in hopes of spotting him. You do. But someone had beat you to it. It was that girl again. As you were about to turn and look for another partner the teacher speaks.

“Emma please find another partner. I know the two of you are friends”

The girl, or Emma as you’ve just found out, turns around to face the teacher with a pout.

“But Ms. Smith”

“No buts ma’am”

“Jay tell her something!”

You turn to Jay who now has an…embarrassed expression?

“Emma you’ll be fine. It’s not like the world will end if we’re not partners. We can still talk to each other outside of class.”

Emma huffs and turns to find another partner.

“If you say so. See you after class then.”

You see Jay begin to look around to see if anyone witnessed the humiliating incident. Before you can turn to look away he catches you staring at him.

You immediately turn away and pretend to read the cooking book placed on the table in front of you.

Hopefully he didn’t notice me staring.

You hear footsteps behind you and unconsciously squeeze the book tightly.

“Woah there, are you trying to rip the book into shreds?”

You look up. There he was. You’ve never been this close to him. His eyes are enchanting. You’re speechless.

“Are you okay?”

That snapped you out of your day dream real quick.

“Hi yes sorry.”

He chuckled at you while reaching for the book. Your hands gently brushed his as he took it away from you.

“The names Jay by the way and I’ll be taking this from you now, wouldn’t want you to have to pay anything for damaging school property.”

You laughed awkwardly and turned your entire body to face his.

“So y/n would you like to be partners?”

He knew my name? I don’t recall having any sort of conversation with him ever.

You studied his face a little closer. Were his eyes a little wider now and were his ears a little red? It must be your imagination.

“Oh uh, sure!”

“That’s great. I’ll go get our aprons.”

He walked away to the back of the classroom. You were a nervous wreck to the way the least. You had dreamed of a moment just like this, but you never thought it would happen.

I should take advantage of an opportunity like this.

Jay returned quickly and handed you your apron.

“Do you mind helping me tie it from the back and I’ll help you tie yours?”

Lifting your head up you saw Jay looking at you.

“Yeah, no problem.”

He turned and you caught sight of the freckles along his neck.

Cute.

You finished tying up his apron and turned to face the opposite direction.

“Okay I’m tying it now.”

His hands traced gently along your waist as he reached for both strings. You shivered unwillingly.

“I’m sorry did I do something wrong?”

“No you did nothing wrong it’s just…”

How could you explain to him that everything he did gave you butterflies?

“Never mind you keep on going it’s fine.”

“Okay just please let me know if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

He was such a sweetheart.

Jay quickly finished tying the apron up and you both sat.

“I hope this isn’t too awkward for you.” Jay says while his head rests on his hand that’s propped up against the table.

“Why would it be awkward?”

Your words came out a little harsher than you meant.

“Well I saw that you witnessed that little incident earlier. I don’t want you thinking that you were a second option or anything.”

“But I was, wasn’t I? You only paired up with me because Emma couldn’t.”

“Wow you’re very straightforward aren’t you? And about Emma, she wanted to be partners with me not the other way around.”

Jay has this concerned look on his face. As if he wants you to understand him. To understand what he was saying.

“Well that doesn’t really matter to me so you’re good.”

“Uh that’s great then.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah…”

You have no idea why you acted the way you did just now but you regretted it. It was easy to tell that Jay was a bit hurt by your words. You were about to say something, but Jay beats you to it.

“Let’s make some apple pie then? The teacher said we could choose whatever pie we wanted to make.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

It was towards the end of class now and there was flour, sugar, apples, and so much more everywhere on the table. Not only the table, but your face too.

Jay and you had gotten past the tension from earlier and were now laughing and playing around.

“Oh you got something right…”

Jay reaches just under your lip and wipes some of the flour off.

“here.”

You blush and start cleaning up your area hoping that he didn’t notice. How was it so easy for him to do something like that?

As you both finished up cleaning the space around you a voice comes up behind you.

“Jay are you ready to go?”

It was Emma. You had to admit she was gorgeous. It was likely her and Jay were together, hopefully not.

“Oh uh…I’ll meet you guys later I need to talk to my cooking partner about something first.”

Emma took a quick glance at you and then back at Jay.

“Yeah sure…see you.”

She walked away and you looked at Jay with a questioning face wondering what he could possibly want to talk about. But first you had to ask the question that was nagging you.

“Girlfriend?”

“What?”

“I mean Emma.”

You internally slapped yourself. It was such a stupid question, of course they were dating.

“Emma? No never! I mean she’s pretty cool and all but we’re just close friends that’s all .”

“But she’s really pretty, you guys suit each other.”

“You’re right she is pretty.”

You should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“But-”

You cut him off before he can continue, not wanting to hear anything more about Emma and what he thinks of her.

“So what is that you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh yeah that. I heard you’re pretty good at English and I could really use your help. I was wondering if you could tutor me?”

So that’s how he knew your name. Was his plan to befriend you so that you wouldn’t say no to tutoring him? You won’t lie it hurt a little bit. But how could you say no to the man you were so hopelessly and devastatingly in love with?

“Um…sure no worries. What time works for you? I’m free every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after school.”

“You’re an angel sent from heaven thank you so much!”

Your heart just skipped a beat.

“Those times work for me. See you next week then?”

“Yeah see you next week.”

Jay winks at you and walks out.

Oh gosh this was a mistake.

———————————Time Skip———————————

“HELLO? Oh my gosh this is so crazy y/n what!”

Of course you had told Liz everything.

“I know but I’m still super worried Liz.”

Instead of what should have been a smile plastered on your face, was a frown.

“I just can’t help but feel that he wanted to get close to me just so he could easily get me as a tutor. And what’s worse? It worked.”

“Based on what you told me I’m pretty sure he really wants to be friends. You got to watch out for that Emma girl though.”

“I know but I don’t think we would grow into anything beyond that. Plus he said she was pretty.”

“And you’re breathtaking so what does that matter. Impress him! Captivate him. Lock him up if you have to.”

You start laughing at your friend. Liz always knew how to make you feel better.

“We’ll see.”

———————————Time Skip———————————

Knowing that today was the first day of tutoring with Jay, you decided to dress up nicely. A cute pink bow, jean skirt, and a white cashmere sweater. Simple.

Jay was already sitting in the study room you had reserved when you walked in.

His eyes flickered up and he took your appearance in.

“Never saw you as the type to wear skirts.”

How would he know what I wear? I thought he only knew of me just a couple days ago.

“I never knew you were the type to know what I wear on a daily basis.”

You were joking of course, trying to act casually around Jay in order to get closer to him.

But he seemed flustered.

“Well um…glad you could make it. Thanks again for doing this for me I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah no problem it’s not too much of a hassle for me, this is perfect for my extracurriculars list anyways.”

Jay quickly sits up right.

“Oh yeah I heard you have big plans for college. I’m really smart too you know? It’s just English is my only weakness. And also-”

You laugh at him as he tries to quickly string his words together. You already knew how smart he was, of course you did.

“Jay you don’t need to tell me any of this you know that right? I’m not judging you or anything. Unless you see me as some sort of competition or something?”

Jay smiles.

“No yeah I guess I just had the urge to I don’t know…impress you?”

“Why would you need to impress me?”

“I don’t know.”

You both stare at each other.

“Well you’ve left a pretty good impression on me so far, so don’t worry too much okay?”

Wow you’ve gotten bold out of no where.

He chuckles.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

“Okay then let’s get started.”

You turn to the books you placed on the table and open one up.

“So let’s start with the basics. What have you been struggling on?”

Jay leans his body closer to you making you once again, shiver. His effect on you drove you crazy.

“Sorry am I too close?”

There was no way you’d give him even a hint of your liking towards him.

“No you’re fine. I guess it was a bad day to wear a skirt, it’s a bit chilly in here.”

You tried to laugh the situation off.

“Here take this.”

Your heart skipped a couple beats as he draped his jacket over your legs. You could feel your cheeks flushing red.

“Oh uh thank you!”

“No problem.”

His smile oh lorddddddd.

“Well let’s continue.”

End of tutoring session

“Thanks so much y/n I feel like I’m improving already.”

“Don’t flatter me too much.”

The both of you laugh.

You reach for his jacket but he stops you and instead grabs the jacket to place it over your shoulders.

“You should take it, it’s pretty windy out there and I heard it’s supposed to rain soon.”

This man. He was going to be the death of you.

“But then you won’t have anything to wear! I’ll be fine don’t worry it’s not that far of a walk to the bus stop anyway.”

He starts to collect his things.

“I live nearby so I’ll be okay. But you should hurry to the bus stop before it starts pouring. Wouldn’t want you to get sick.”

He’s so caring it hurts. Was he like this towards others? Other girls? Emma?

“Okay see you tomorrow for cooking class then?”

“See you.”

———————————Time Skip———————————

You walk into school, earlier than usual. In your hand was Jay’s jacket, you were eager to find him and give it to him. Or maybe eager just to talk to him. This new formed friendship was now something you cherished deeply.

As you walked through the hallways and turned on a sharp corner you accidentally bump into someone. Their phone goes flying in the air.

Emma.

Just your luck.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there!”

You’re first to apologize, it was the polite thing to do since it was your fault.

“No worries, I should’ve watched where I was going too but I was busy looking at my phone.”

The phone was still laying on the floor, screen side up, so you reached down for it.

It wasn’t your intention to snoop but the name on the screen caught your attention.

She was texting Jay.

You only got to read the name before quickly handing it back to her.

There was a moment of awkward silence as you both just stood there.

Emma took notice of the jacket you had in your arms.

“Is that Jay’s jacket?”

Trying to maintain eye contact with her, you speak.

“Yeah, he let me borrow it yesterday and I was hoping to return it.”

“How sweet! He’s always lending out his sweaters, it’s a habit of his. Whenever I leave my sweaters at home he always gives his up.”

Oh.

It was pretty stupid to think you were any more special than Emma, he knew her longer and she knew him longer too. They had a stronger bond than the two day old one you both had.

Emma took your silence as a sign to speak again.

“I can give it back to him if you’d like? I have first period with him.”

You look up at her and she has this beautiful smile. She’s similar to Jay in many ways. They’d look lovely together.

“Would you do that for me? Thanks.”

Your voice trembled a bit as you handed the jacket over to her.

Don’t cry. This isn’t something to cry over. You’re not even close with him.

“Well see you around…what was your name?”

“Y/n.”

“My names Emma! See you around y/n!”

At the moment it didn’t irk you that Jay could possibly have feelings for Emma. What irked you is that you couldn’t hate nor dislike her. She was kind and genuine towards you. There were no ill intentions behind her words.

Sighing, you turned around to head towards your locker.

“Good morning darling how was tutoring yesterday?”

At least there was Liz. She was always there for you.

“It was okay.”

“Oh wow. Okay. What’s got you in a twist? I thought you would be bursting with happiness after having some alone time with your crush.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Hmm I know you’re lying but I won’t pry anything out of you now. Tell me when you’re ready.”

“This is why I love you.”

“I know it is. Now come one let’s go, I heard they’re serving waffles in the cafeteria today!”

———————————Time Skip———————————

It was now cooking class. For this first time ever, you were dreading having to face Jay. There was this small ball of anger in you, jealousy. You didn’t know how to handle it.

Maybe I should tell the teacher I don’t feel well.

Before you could act on your thoughts, a familiar voice reaches your ears.

“Hey y/n! How you been?”

Jay starts to settle his things down next to you.

Why is it so difficult to try and have a conversation with him right now?

Probably because you know he just walked in with Emma.

This jealousy thing was really frustrating you.

“We saw each other not even less than 24 hours ago. You’re making it seem like it’s been over a year.”

He shifts his head to look at you.

“Yeah uh just trying to make conversation. You know?”

“Mhm.”

You hoped your attitude didn’t hurt him too much. But you felt hurt too.

“I saw that you gave Emma my jacket.”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t want to see me huh? Is that why you gave it to her?”

He chuckled. He was joking, but you weren’t in the mood for it.

“No.”

Silence.

“Sorry I’m not feeling well today. I think I might go to the nurses office.”

Before he could get a word out you walk up to the front of the class and explain to the teacher about your “illness”. After being given your teachers approval you make your way to the nurses office.

Mindlessly forgetting your things, just needing an escape.

End of class.

Class is now over and you’re still laying down on one of the beds with the curtains closed.

You slept for the first thirty minutes of your stay but now you can’t stop thinking about Jay.

How there was a hint of sadness in his eyes as you walked away from him. Or was it worry? Hard to tell. You clearly don’t know him at all.

But no matter how hard you tried to stop thinking of him, he always wandered back into your mind.

“Jay…”

A sudden noise erupts from behind the curtains.

“Awe man!”

You stand up quickly.

“Hello?”

You slide the curtain open and to your surprise Jay is on the floor with…strawberry milk?

“Thought I could surprise you but I guess you knew I was here already. How did you know? I thought I was being sneaky…”

That’s good. He doesn’t know you were being a complete lunatic who can’t seem to stop thinking of him.

“Oh trust me, you surprised me alright.”

You can’t help but laugh at the sight in front of you.

Jay looks like an absolute clutz.

“That’s nice.”

You stop laughing and raise an eyebrow.

“What is?”

“Seeing you happy.”

You blush.

“Sorry about earlier. I was being a bitch.”

“No you weren’t. Don’t call yourself that.”

He always knew what words would give you butterflies.

“Well I was being a bit rude.”

Your hand reaches out for his, he takes it.

“We all have our bad days.”

He’s up now. But neither of you let go. You don’t want to let go. Does he? He might think you’re weird if you don’t let go of his hand soon.

Swiftly, you retract your hand from his bringing it to your side.

His face now has a tint of pink realizing what just happened.

“I bought you this.”

He sticks out his hand which has the strawberry milk you saw earlier.

“Thanks I love strawberry milk!”

“Yeah Emma told me all girls love anything strawberry.”

Oh.

You try to conceal the jealousy you had forgotten you felt to begin with.

“Emma’s a genius.”

“She is.”

You look down to open up the milk in order to hide the hurt on your face.

“But you are too.”

Huh?

“Thank you?”

Jay stares at you as you struggle to open the carton of milk. He grabs it from you and continues to open it as he speaks.

“I have something important to tell you and I understand if you get weirded out and don’t want to be friends anymore. But it’s just something I need to get off my chest.”

What could it be?

“Go ahead.”

He takes a deep breath and hands the milk back to you. His hand now starts to scratch the back of his neck.

“So I know we’ve only know each other for a couple days but I was hoping to get to know you better.”

“Know me better?”

Was this a dream?

“Yeah, in a romantic way I guess? I don’t know. I don’t really know how to explain it. But I understand if your answer is no. It’s just that I kind of like you and-”

His words are cut short when you hug him.

“I hope this is okay.”

You say, hoping for some reassurance.

“I’m just so happy right now.”

“This is more than okay. It’s great. It’s amazing.”

Jay’s hugging you back now.

The both of you stay like that for a while. Until the nurse finds the two of you and sends you guys to the principle’s office for skipping class in order to date.

Being sent to the principle’s office should have made you upset. But as you walked side by side with Jay, nothing could make you happier.

4 months later

You guessed it. Jay and you had ended up together. Turns out your suspicions of him and Emma were wrong, and they were really just close friends. Also, let’s just say she seemed to take interest into Liz a lot more than she did Jay.

Throughout your so far two month relationship you discovered two important things.

1. Jay absolutely loved smothering you in kisses and hugging you from behind while slithering his hands across your waist. He loved pinching your stomach and hearing your voice telling him to stop.

2. You were a clingy girlfriend. Not in a bad way. You didn’t have to be with him every minute of the day. But you took advantage of any moment you had with him, immediately hugging him the moment your eyes set on him. Goodbyes were always hard, even if you were seeing him the next morning.

Jay didn’t mind though. This was one of the many things he loved about you.

“Graduation is coming up soon.”

Jay and you are at the park right now eating ice cream. Summer is coming up soon so the weather is starting to warm up.

“I know, time flies.”

You respond to him. Happily licking away at your ice cream and enjoying the view of the pond in front of you as the sun sets.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be seniors soon.”

Jay still can’t grasp the idea of this being his last high school year.

“College is soon.”

“I never did ask what you wanted to do after high school.”

“I never asked you either.”

“So?”

“So?”

“Y/n…”

You laugh at him and reach for his hand.

“I hope to be a doctor.”

“That’s awesome. You can do it.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

He squeezes your hand in order to offer some sort of comfort. It works.

“How about you? What do you want to do Jay?”

“I’m boring and simple. I’d like to be a mechanical engineer just like my dad.”

“You’re anything but boring and simple Jay.”

He smiles and leans in to kiss you.

His lips are soft and gentle. You guys have kissed hundreds of times but he always makes it seem like it’s your first.

As he pulls away he brushes some of your hair away from your face. His next words leave you in absolute shock.

“I think I love you.”

Your eyes are wide and your mouth is left agape.

“No, I know that I love you. I understand if it’s too soon and there is no need to give me a response anywhere near the future, but I thought I should let you know.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you love me?”

Your questions were cliche. You knew that. But you needed to know why. This all felt so surreal. Too good to be true.

“Because you’re you. Because of the way you laugh at my unfunny jokes no matter what. Because of the way you smile even at the smallest things. Because of the way you don’t let anyone disrespect you no matter what. And most of all, because of the way you’re the only one that can make my heart skip a beat, make my ears red, and give me butterflies. My heart beats for you and only for you.”

Woah.

You never knew someone could ever feel like this towards you. You were absolutely star struck. But you had an answer already. You always had it deep within you.

“I love you too Jay.”

He smiled.

“Thank God. I was hoping you would say that.”

With that, you both shared another kiss. This one was longer, deeper, and more passionate. It was as if time had stopped. As if the world had stopped. It was just the two of you.

You wished this moment would last forever.

———————————Time Skip———————————

It’s the beginning of senior year now. Jay and you had a plan. Apply to the same colleges which had both of your majors. Go to school together. Graduate, get married, all of that. Two dumb love birds hopelessly devoted to each other.

You both had similar grades and qualifications so you weren’t too worried about getting in or not getting into the same colleges.

It didn’t matter to you though, you would follow Jay wherever he went. You would strive in any pre med program anyways. It wasn’t a bother, as long as you were with Jay. The love of your life.

“I can’t believe it’s our senior year Jay! This is so exciting!”

“I know love, but let’s start getting ready for those applications okay? You know how quickly time passes by.”

“Ofcourse I do. Want to come over after school? We can come with ideas together for or piqs.”

“That sounds great. See you after class?”

“See you!”

7 months later

It was now time. Colleges were sending out their letters.

You had to admit. This was nerve wrecking. It would be absolutely devastating if you didn’t get in to any of your dream schools. Of course John Hopkins and Stanford being at the top.

But the fear of not going to school with Jay had also crossed your mind a couple of times. It’s not like you would die if you didn’t go to the same school, but you loved growing as a person with him and watching him grow too.

The both of you received acceptance letters from various schools but all of them weren’t any of you two’s top choices. Jay’s top choices were MIT and Stanford. Stanford seemed to be the target at the moment. You had applied to Amherst too, just in case Jay had to go to MIT instead of Stanford. It wasn’t your top choice but it wasn’t a bad one either. Luckily you had gotten in!

“Y/n sweetie your father says the mail man delivered some letters! It two of them seem to be from Stanford and John Hopkins!”

Your mom yells from downstairs.

This is really happening.

You quickly rush down stairs and see the letters there in the middle of the table.

“Deep breaths sweet girl. Just know we’re here supporting you no matter what those letters say. You’re still an amazing and intelligent lady.”

Your dad says as he rubs your shoulders.

You smile nervously and reach for the John Hopkins letter first.

Waitlisted.

“It’s okay honey, that’s still such a great accomplishment.”

Tears are threatening to spill out of your eyes. But you have to look strong. You still have one more letter to look at. The one that matters most to you right now.

You reach out to open it and once you start to read what’s inside of it you can’t help the tears from coming out.

Congratulations y/n we are happy to admit you to the Class of 2028!

“Mom! Dad! I’m in! I’m actually in!”

Your parents hug you and take you out to eat in order to celebrate.

Hours later.

As you head to your room after dinner you text Jay.

You: Jay can we call really quick?

Jay: Well hello to you too princess.

You: Haha very funny. Now please can we call?

Jay: Anything for my girl😋

“Hello?”

“Hi princess.”

“How much longer until you stop calling me that?”

“Never.”

“Okay whatever.”

“You got in didn’t you?”

“What? How did you know? Did my parents tell you? I wanted to surprise you!”

“I know you too well, that’s how I knew. Congratulations y/n. You have absolutely no idea how incredibly proud of you I am.”

“Thanks Jay! How about you? Did you get your letter yet? You got in didn’t you?”

Jay clears his throat and for a moment you start to get worried.

“Jay…?”

“Of course I got in princess.”

“Oh my gosh this is amazing. I can’t believe I’m going to college with my boyfriend!”

“Okay y/n it’s been a long day so you should probably head to sleep now sleeping beauty.”

“You can be an annoying shithead sometimes you know that right?”

“I’m your annoying shithead.”

You laugh.

“You’re right. Love you lots Jay. Goodnight.”

“Love you more princess. Goodnight.”

———————————Time Skip———————————

“Hi Liz how’s Boston?”

Yup! Liz got into Boston University! It’s towards the end of summer now and she’s meeting some of her dormates before she officially moves in at the start of the semester.

“It’s great over here! I’m living for this weather. I wish you were here with me right now, I need my best friend during times like these.”

“You’ll be fine, you can make friends anywhere you go.”

“But it won’t be the same without you.”

“I could say the same thing.”

“So…how are things with you and Jay?”

“Everything is going great. But I have noticed something different about him.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Well he’s been acting a lot more clingy lately. Way more than I usually am. And I thought I was supposed to be the clingy girl friend!”

“Hm yeah, I wouldn’t look too much into it he’s probably thinking guys will try to snatch you up in college.”

“Never!”

You both start to laugh and quickly say your goodbyes as Liz had to go out for lunch with her new found friends.

Coincidentally it’s student orientation day for you so you call up Jay.

It rings.

And rings.

And rings.

Strange.

Jay’s house is only a ten minute bus ride so you decide to go check up on him.

You arrive at his house and knock on his door.

His mom steps out. She usually has a gleeful smile just like Jay’s, but this time her smile is no where to be seen.

“Hi ma’am how have you been? Is Jay around? I tried to call him but he wouldn’t answer so I just came to check up on him!”

Mrs. Park stares at you with saddened eyes and then hugs you.

“I’m so sorry my sweet girl. I’m so so sorry. Just know he did it for a reason okay? He did it for your own good.”

You’re shocked by this. What does she mean? For your own good?

“Excuse Mrs. Park but I’m a little confused. What do you mean? Where’s Jay?”

Mrs. Park rushes inside and quickly comes back out. This time with a letter.

“Take this and read it at home okay? It’s best if you do it in your room alone.”

And with that she gives you one last hug before shutting the door.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Was that.

You’re going through so many emotions right now. As you take the bus home you have the letter in one hand and your phone in the other. You continue to attempt to call Jay in order to get some sort of answer from him.

You make it home and enter your room. Sitting down on your bed you wast no time in opening the letter. Your eyes settle on the first line.

Dear y/n,

Hi princess I know you must be worried right now. Just know that I am physically okay. At first, I wanted to do this in person but I just couldn’t find the strength to do it. I know I’m a coward. I know this will hurt you just as much as it hurts me. But I’m doing this for you. Because I love you. In no way am I blaming you for anything. I want apologize for what I’m about to say next.

I won’t be going to college with you. We can’t spend the next four years together. I’m so incredibly proud of all your accomplishments. I know it’s been one of your biggest dreams to attend Stanford. Which is why I couldn’t let you come to Massachusetts with me. I know the plan was to be together, but your dreams should always come before me. I don’t want to stop you from reaching your full potential. Long distance relationships are a thing yes. But I feel that with our relationship we will only hold each other back. We will never want to reach out for more, in fear of leaving the other behind. I hope that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me. I hope that we can find our way back to each other. I will always love you. Every season with you has been a blessing. For now I’ll pray for you all the time.

For now I can’t be your love.

I love you,

Jay

You start to uncontrollably sob.

“Jay you asshole. How would you know anything about my dreams?”

Your throat was itching.

“You were my dream. My dream was to spend my life with you.”

You cried yourself to sleep that night.

Heartbroken.

•••••••••••••••••••JAY’S POV••••••••••••••••••••

I loved her since the day I saw her at the library.

It was sophomore year.

Finals week.

I was looking for some books to prepare for the English final and there she was.

Studying? No.

She was tutoring someone else.

I was amazed. She had to be the smartest at this school. Finals week and here she was helping someone else out.

She was beautiful too. Her dimples and cheeky smile captured me in an instant.

I made it my mission to look for her every time I was at the library.

Luckily she was always there.

I never got too close. Afraid that I would scare her away.

Emma always said I was paranoid and that I should go for it before someone else did.

I never had the courage to, until my junior year.

She was looking at me. Actually looking at me.

She turned away immediately after I caught her but I knew this was my chance to get to know her.

As I walked up to her desk in cooking class I took notice of her hands clutching onto the book in front of her.

Cute.

From there we got closer.

I could never get tired of her.

My hands always found their way to her waist or her face. I loved caressing her and covering her with kisses. It was just my way of showing my love for her.

I loved this girl.

I loved her so much that I was willing to let her go even if it hurt me so very much.

When I got that rejection letter from Stanford I was heartbroken. Not only because it was my dream school but because it was our dream school.

I knew if I told her that I was rejected she would want to go to Amherst. But I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t stop her from chasing the thing she had wanted for so long.

So I wrote her a letter. It was the only way I could clearly express myself.

Even though I made the heartbreaking decision of leaving without saying a proper goodbye I don’t regret it.

I don’t think I could ever leave her if I had to face her one last time.

I thought leaving without a goodbye would be the hardest part but the messages and calls she would leave me for the next few weeks absolutely broke me. I had to fight so hard to not respond.

I’m sorry princess.

I can’t be your love because I’m afraid I’ll ruin your life.

5 years later.

I’m home again. I haven’t told anyone. Not even my parents. I want to take everything in.

Not much has changed. Hasn’t been that long since I left anyways.

But I guess I have.

I’ve grown a bit taller, new hair, and looked a lot cleaner than I did back then.

I walk down the streets of San Francisco and pass by a coffee shop.

It’s a coffee shop she and I regularly had dates at.

I walk in. The bell chimes as it opens up and a couple heads turn to see who the newcomer is, and then they all quickly turn back to what ever they were doing before.

I walk up to the cashier ready to order when I hear a familiar name.

“Order for y/n!”

I turn to the voice.

There she is.

It feels like I’m at the library again.

She’s become even more breathtaking.

Is that even possible?

There’s so much going through my head but it’s as if my legs have a mind of their own because before I know it I’m in front of her.

Admiring her face.

I’m the first to speak.

“Hi.”

Her breath hitches before she starts to talk to me.

“Jay…hi.”

I can’t believe this. I mean, I should’ve expected it. She never did leave the area.

“How have you been, time has-”

Before I can finish a voice calls out to her.

“Y/n there you are!”

A man runs up to her and slides his hand into hers while giving her a soft peck on the forehead.

Oh.

[ghostlykeyes]

Hi, love your writing! Could I perhaps get some headcanons of Hearsteel with a (GN) tattoo artist partner? I'm a tattoo artist (apprentice) myself, and very curious. Thanks! 💕

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HEARTSTEEL /TATTOO ARTIST READER ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW ♡ No TW's ♡ I did Sett, Yone, and Kayn since they are the only HS members I'm writing for right now. ♡ Anon!! I would love to see some of your work sometime if you're comfortable sharing !! <3

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KAYN

Inspired by your art, Kayn buys a shitty tattoo gun off Amazon and messes around with it. He's not serious about tattooing, not really, but he thinks it's super cool that you do it. And, like anything he thinks is cool, he wants to try his own hand at it. (Plus, he wants to impress you. Oh, he may act like the picture of Rhaast he inked into the top-right edge of some practice skin is no big deal, but he actually spent like four hours on it and inside he's just screaming for you to compliment it.)

Protect your practice skin fiercely, because Kayn will absolutely nab some if he's bored. It's not uncommon to pull out a rubber sheet of practice skin and find scratchy sketches of demon masks and glowing eyes.

Kayn lets you tattoo him, as long as he gets to pick the design. He assures you he'll sit well, but it's a lie. He's a squirmy subject. Not because of the pain, mind you—he doesn't care about that. No, he's fidgety at the best of times, and with you so close to him, with you breath and your hands sending tingly heat across his skin? How is he supposed to keep still? Threatening you'll never kiss him again if he doesn't chill the fuck out might do the trick, though. Contemplating a life without good-morning kisses has him doing his damndest to sit still and let you do your work.

While Kayn likes all of your work, he's especially fond of the dark, the creepy, and the ultra-stylized. The more morbid drawings fit his bad-boy image, and the stylized ones? He respects innovation in all its forms, and he loves to see your artistic boldness so plainly expressed.

Kayn often sends you pictures of graffiti that he's proud of. In truth, he does it more for the property damage than artistic expression—but that's besides the point. He's picked up some skills along the way and of course he's going to use them to impress you.

If you ever, ever have a problem client, Kayn will explode in their face. Expect loud words, shoving, maybe a punch or two getting thrown. And if you don't want him exhibiting that kind of behavior in your shop? Well, fine, he can play nice. Just don't be surprised if you find out your little problem client finds themselves with "DUMB FUCKING CUNT" keyed into their car door. Kayn denies any and all knowledge of doing this. "Must've been Rhaast," he claims, but you're not so sure. Either way, it's a warning signal for your future clients to behave.

SETT

After you're sore from a long day shrimp-hunched over someone's leg, you don't even have to ask Sett for a massage. He already knows you're cramping up and he knows just how to make his fingers work. "Lay down," he tells you, and waits for you to get comfy before straddling your back. "Hold still, 'kay? I'm gonna take care of you, don't even worry 'bout it." His strong fingers gently rub at the knots winding up and down your spine, and he smooths the pain from your muscles. And this isn't some five-minutes-and-done back rub, either— he's committed to getting you right. Chat about your day, ask about his. He'll be up there for as long as you need.

Even if he's not interested in getting tattoos yet, Sett still loves your art, and he's willing to commit to something a little less permanent. Any time he's about to leave on tour and won't see you for a few weeks, he asks you to Sharpie a design on him. Whatever you want, wherever you want (just try not to abuse the privilege—he will never forgive you if you draw something embarrassing on his pecs the night before a huge show). He thinks it's sweet to have that little reminder of you etched on his skin. Sett will send you periodic updates of your sketch. If it's holding up well, expect to witness Sett twisting around awkwardly to show you in his daily post-gym selfie. When it's gone? He sends you a photo of blank skin, with a solemn text: "he's dead :(" . Don't worry about the untimely demise of this picture, though—you can draw him another as soon as he gets home!

Sett keeps some of his favorite flash designs of yours framed in his room.

It doesn't matter that he doesn't have any tattoos—if you or your shop sells t-shirts, Sett will wear them, and he'll do it proudly. He loves to represent you. All someone has to do is ask about it and it'll send him on a ten-minute (minimum) rant about his kickass tattoo artist partner, how talented and awesome they are. If you don't have a sleeveless option, though, don't be surprised if the sleeves "mysteriously" disappear.

YONE

Yone is interested in getting some traditional Japanese work done, but not for some time yet. Just know that whenever he's ready to ink up, if you're willing to tattoo in that style, you've got a client for at least a full sleeve, if not two. And when the day comes? Oh, Yone sits like a dream. He's the client from heaven, barely flinching and only taking breaks when you need a second to stretch. It's a bit difficult to convince him to put down his work, though, so be prepared to listen to Yone building some song beats with his free hand while you're buzzing along his other arm.

You both have rather demanding jobs and schedules, but Yone enjoys your quiet moments working together. He plugs away at his music while nearby, you finalize designs for clients and work on new flash pieces. Whenever he needs a break, he comes over and tenderly rubs your shoulders. Yone watches you work, occasionally breaking the silence to ask about certain design choices or what kind of client this tattoo is for. Watching you draw gives him a sense of peace.

Since he knows you work long hours, Yone always gets you a drink on his morning iced coffee run. He gets you lunch sometimes, too, if he knows you'll be spending the day in one long session and might not want to leave the shop. Yone knows what it's like to get lost in your work better than anyone, but he wants to make sure that even if you're in the zone, you've got something to drink and a bite to eat nearby. Now, if only you could get him to take care of himself the same way...

Dating Yone brings you a lot of new clients. Even though he left the mainstream music industry some time ago, he's still got friends within it. If anyone asks him for advice on where to go, of course he recommends you, which means you get your fair share of music artists coming to your chair. Of course, they always tip fabulously (they risk Yone's wrath if they don't).

Yone comes to you for advice on a lot of Heartsteel's artistic visuals. Their loud, messy, brash style meshes well with tattoo aesthetics, so he likes to run creative choices by you before implementing them. He also asks you to design some merchandise, if you're okay with doing that. Whatever you come up with, the guys absolutely love. Consider yourself the creative lead for all future merch endeavors.

[unclewaynemunson]

aight this is gonna get angsty

One morning Steve’s car won’t start when he has to get to work, so he calls Eddie to ask if he can give him (and Robin) a ride. Eddie, who knows a thing or two about cars, offers to try and fix the problem instead; it’s Saturday so he has nowhere else to be anyway. Eddie drives to the Harrington house and they swap keys. While Steve drives Eddie’s van into town, Eddie goes to work on Steve’s fancy car.

It doesn’t take long before one of the neighbors sees him: the infamous Munson boy, never up to any good, in the middle of Loch Nora, bent over a car that’s probably worth more than his own home. That can only mean one thing, right?

When the Hawkins police get a call from the concerned neighbor, they quickly get into action. Attempted car theft by the guy who already has a name for possessing various kinds of drugs, the guy whose father is behind bars for grand theft auto and arson? Doesn’t sound too far-fetched, and definitely sounds more exciting than the usual bar fights or property damage complaints that take up the majority of their jobs ever since the Upside Down has been defeated for good.

‘I wasn’t stealing his car, I was fixing it! I’m his friend,’ Eddie splutters when two cops forcefully push him against the side of the car, but they only laugh at that while they handcuff him.

‘Yeah, sure you are.’ Deputy Callahan utters a sharp laugh. ‘Steve Harrington’s friend, good one, freak.’

‘If you call Hopper -’

‘Chief's daughter is ill and we can do our jobs just fine without him. You’re coming with us, punk.’

Rationally, Eddie knows that it’ll all be sorted out in no time. He’ll be kept in detention at the station for a while, they’ll call Steve at Family Video, and Steve will probably lose his shit and get him out in no time. He knows that. But merely knowing it doesn’t help him when he’s all alone in a tiny cell with nothing but his thoughts. He had sworn to himself he wouldn’t end up like this - like his father. Yet here he is. Another Munson in jail for stealing cars. For stealing Steve’s car. How the hell could he ever have thought that he’d be good enough for someone like Steve?

By the time Steve gets to the station and his loud voice echoes through the hallways as he follows deputy Callahan to Eddie’s cell, inexhaustibly scolding the man, Eddie has already lost it completely. 

‘Fuck,’ Steve mumbles, his voice suddenly much softer, when he sees Eddie all folded into himself in the corner of the cell, his arms wrapped around his pulled-up legs and his cheeks wet with tears.

As soon as the cell door opens, he rushes over to Eddie and kneels down in front of him, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his knee.

‘Hey, Eddie, I got you, there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore, okay? I’m here. I’m getting you out.’

But Eddie is crying so desperately that he can’t even speak.

‘Nothing happened, alright? I’m here,’ Steve repeats. ‘They already dropped all the charges. You got nothing to worry about.’ He pauses for a moment, looks at Eddie intently. ‘Is this about your father?’

Eddie shakes his head. ‘It’s... It’s ‘bout you,’ he manages to get out in between sobs.

‘About me?’ Steve stares at him in confusion.

‘You shouldn’t... Shouldn’t be friends... with me, Steve.’

‘Woah, Eddie, come here.’ Steve drops down onto both knees so that he can wrap his arms around Eddie, gently stroking his back and letting him cry against the fabric of his Family Video vest until Steve’s whole shoulder is wet and Eddie finally has calmed down a little bit.

‘What made you say that?’ he finally asks, softly, when Eddie’s breathing has gone back to normal and he isn’t sobbing anymore.

‘I don’t know why we were pretending that we - that we could be friends,’ Eddie says, voice still thick with tears and sounding a little bit choked. ‘I’m nothing like you. When I’m at your house, everyone thinks I’m stealing your car. And that would make way more sense than the truth, wouldn’t it? They’re right. I’m not - I can’t be - I’ll never be good enough for you. I’m too much like him - just look at me now! You’d never end up in this place when you’re fixing someone’s car. But I’m just like him, and that means I’ll only end up hurting everyone I love - I’ll only end up hurting you.’ 

‘Eddie.’ Steve says his name so softly, while combing through his hair so gently, and Eddie doesn’t believe he deserves any of that kindness.

‘You’re nothing like your father. Everything you told me about him... It’s nothing like you. None of it is. You’re - you’re so kind and brave and loving and good. You shouldn’t believe a thing of what my dumb neighbors are thinking about you. We know they’re wrong, that’s all that matters, alright? And they better get used to you hanging out at my house, ‘cause I don’t give a shit about what they think, you’ll always be welcome there, even if they call the cops on you everyday. I want you there, Eddie.’

Eddie, exhausted from all his emotions, is barely able process that much sweetness. It’s too much; those reassuring words and the tender way in which Steve is brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheeks to wipe away his tears. It is making him lose any last ounce of common sense; he can only give in to those tender touches and press his lips against Steve’s.

Within a second, his brain catches up to what his body has decided would be a good idea, and he freezes in terror. Surely Steve will despise him now; surely he’ll push him away, punch him, call him all kinds of terrible names, lock him back into that cell...

But none of that happens. Steve only produces a surprised sound from the back of his throat, then presses his lips firmly against Eddie’s, soft and warm and gentle, while cradling his arms around him.

It only takes a few seconds, then Steve pulls back, blushing fervently and with a somewhat shocked look on his face.

‘Um. That was... Holy shit.’ He draws in a shuddering breath. ‘They probably have cameras in here, don’t they?’

Eddie can only nod stupidly.

Steve moves his arm to grab Eddie’s hand and squeezes it lightly.

‘How about I get you outta here, and we do um...’ His eyes flash down to Eddie’s lips for a split second. ‘And we do that again somewhere we have more privacy?’

---

They take their time in the back of Eddie’s van, kissing and talking and then kissing some more. When Eddie finally drops Steve off at Family Video to let him finish what’s left of his shift, he feels like he might never be able to stop smiling anymore.

‘Hey, um...’ he starts, ‘When you tell people about us, can you please leave out the part where I had a completely pathetic breakdown, and maybe instead say that you fell in love with me because of how immensely cool and badass I looked behind bars?’

Steve lets out a loud laugh. He reaches out his hand to play with one of Eddie’s curls. ‘That’s gonna be a no,’ he says, still chuckling but with an earnest look in his soft brown eyes. ‘I like our story just the way it is. As far as I’m concerned, everybody can know how strongly you feel things and what a huge softie you are. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s exactly what I like so much about you.’

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi there!

I was wondering if you could do a yandere RoR with the reader being the daughter of either Acnologia (Fairy tail) or Whitebeard (One piece). The reader being the kindest person there is, but have a wicked temper.

Like when they fight their opponent (a rather cruel god) and they try to attack their family and they lose it and unleash their power and rage on them.

And that gains the attention of the gods and humans.

Gods: Thor, Poesidon Buddha, Loki, Hercules and Hermes

Humans: Lu bu, Jack the Ripper, Raiden, Sasaki Kojiro and Leonidas

-The strongest man in the world, one of the strongest and mightiest of pirates, who commanded a massive crew full of powerful individuals, calling them his family, his sons and daughters, was an opponent none wanted to cross unless if they had to.

-Of all the children he laid claim over, there was only one who was biologically his, his daughter, Y/N. She was tall, beautiful, and just as powerful as her old man.

-Normally level-headed and a good leader, Y/N was a force to be reckoned with in her own right, earning her respect and power young, but she did have one little weakness- her temper.

-You weren’t known for losing your temper often, but when you did…. There was usually a lot of property damage, usually a couple of deaths, and lots of people crying, begging for forgiveness.

-However, you had a pretty good lid on your temper, only losing it for a few small things here and there, so your crew, your family, had learned quickly to avoid those triggers, and if someone else caused you to pop off, they would be safe, as they all knew to stay a safe distance back, away from the carnage.

-You lived a life full of adventure and fun, and died doing what you loved, sailing, being pulled to Valhalla, as you were deemed someone worthy of coming.

-You enjoyed your time in Valhalla, being able to meet new people, make new friends, and battle strong opponents, and while you did miss your family dearly, you knew they would yell at you for lingering on them rather than sailing forward like your dad always taught you to do.

-You weren’t like a lot of the other women in Valhalla, you were crass, talked back, could drink almost anyone under the table, and you loved to fight, you had no issues getting hurt if it meant you were going to get a good brawl out of it.

-This is what led Brunnhilde into seeking you out to fight in Ragnarok, fighting alongside with other champions of humanity for it’s very survival against the gods.

-You knew that gods existed, being in Valhalla for so long, and while there were many good ones, ones you could call friends, there were ones who were cruising for a bruising and you had been feeling a little antsy here as of late, mainly because you weren’t getting the challenge you so desperately wanted.

-Your opponent was cocky, seeing a woman, despite her not looking dainty and delicate, but he was arrogant, immediately thinking that this was going to be an easy fight.

-People were cheering loudly for you, those you had befriended and those who knew of your power, many of them knowing full well who was actually going to win the fight.

-Your opponent laughed obnoxiously when he heard your dad’s name, “Whitebeard?! What kind of stupid name is that?!”

-Many people groaned in the audience, immediately handing over their losing bets to their friends; it’s not that they were betting against you, but they were betting on how quickly this fight was going to end.

-He was not prepared for you to come flying across the arena at him and throw a harsh right hook across his face, sending him flying back into the brick wall behind you.

-You glared darkly, a murderous aura surrounding you as you cracked your knuckles, stalking towards him, “Nobody talks about my daddy like that.”

-You won your match in a little under two minutes, not even using your weapon with your Valkyrie partner, you did it with your bare hands.

-While you assure her that you were fine, Brunnhilde dragged you to the infirmary to get your knuckles wrapped up, as you had busted them open pretty bad during the beat down.

-A knock came to the door of the room you were in with two nurses, one working on each hand, and your eyes lit up as a man walked in and you beamed, “(Love)!”

-Couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing you getting patched up, walking in but not bothering the nurses, “Have to say Y/N, it was pretty hot watching you go feral for once.” You pouted lightly up at him, showing your softer side, “Nobody gets to talk about my papa like that!” he chuckled, as he knew that was a fact, that’s how he met you, seeing some cocky upstarts insulting your father which led to a one on however many there were with you walking away the clear victor with no major wounds. He asked you out right after that for a drink, which you accepted and the two of you have been nearly attached at the hip. He respected you heavily, you were not to be underestimated and he demanded respect for you if he felt like you weren’t getting it. Keeps PDA to a minimum but behind closed doors he’s a total cuddle bug. Once you were free from the nurses he picked you up like you were a delicate maiden, making your face blaze brightly. He thought you were adorable when you got so shy, but now that you won your fight, he was treating you to a drink- you earned it!

            -Leonidas, Lu Bu, Thor, Poseidon, Hermes, and Raiden

-Knew not to coddle you, but you could see the worry in his eyes, even if he didn’t say anything, sitting nearby, “How’s the hands?” you grinned, flashing him a wink, “They ache so good- bastard got what he deserved.” He chuckled warmly, finding your humor comforting. He knew that you were going to win, but he was still nervous watching you fight, not wanting you to get hurt as you were important to him. You knew of his worry but said nothing out of respect to him, something he did appreciate. Your hands were stiff from the bandages, leaving you not able to use them really easily, but (Love) was happy to help, letting you sit on his lap, holding your mug of ale for you, enjoying your after fight feast he prepared for the two of you. He praised your fighting skills, showing what you were able to do without a weapon but also while overcome with fuming rage. He knew of your triggers that would set you off, unintentionally setting a few off himself, but now knew better. Adored you, showers you with love and praise and just makes you feel so happy and dainty, but at the same time knows full well you will throw hands with anyone if they were to disrespect you, your father, or (Love).

            -Buddha, Hercules, Loki, Jack, and Kojiro

[somedaylazysomeday]

Hooked

Billy Butcher x fem!reader

You're called to tow Butcher's truck. He's unsurprisingly offended by that. (Takes place before the pilot of The Boys)

Rating: Mature. Minors DNI

Word Count: 4,600

Warnings: Swearing, veiled threats, feelings of helplessness, mentions of alcohol, descriptions of injuries from a fight, insults, and frank discussions of sexuality. (Butcher is his own warning, tbh)

Next | Masterlist

---

When most people said they were on a run, it meant that they were getting some exercise. Or going to the store. Or maybe fleeing from enemies. 

For you, a ‘run’ meant that you were out to tow a car from an illegal space. Honestly, it felt like fleeing from enemies sometimes, but that was only because the customers of your Uncle Bo’s tow service and impound lot didn’t want his product. Like any customer service job, you had your share of unpleasant interactions. 

This particular one was an easy pickup. Some guy had parked on private property and the owners were having his car towed. Simple, quick, legal. Those were the best jobs, at least in your opinion. Bo tended to favor jobs where he could get a little extra for helping or inconveniencing the right people.

You didn’t need to pay attention to the familiar motions of placing the lift under the car’s front wheels. It was an older car with significant damage to the paint and body, so you didn’t have to worry that you and Bo would be sued for scratches or dents. In fact, there were good odds that the car had been abandoned on the property. 

Still, you kept an eye on the surrounding neighborhood as you worked. This wasn’t a good part of the city. Just because you could take care of yourself in a nasty situation didn’t mean you wanted to get in one. 

“Hold on, love,” an accented voice called. “That’s mine.”

You turned, already dreading the conversation. You had been helping your Uncle Bo long enough to not be cowed by many people, but that didn’t mean confrontations with angry vehicle owners were fun. 

Fortunately, this vehicle owner - dark-haired and wearing a long coat - didn’t seem to be angry… yet. He also didn’t seem to need any input from you to keep the conversation going. “I’ll need you to lower my car back down. I’m on official business. Agent Butcher, CIA.”

The skepticism was clear on your face, you were sure of it. “Do you have some kind of identification?” 

His eyebrows lifted, but not in disbelief. No, it was like he took your words as a challenge, one that he relished. He fished inside his black leather duster and retrieved a wallet. He flashed a shining badge at you, making sure you could see the identification card displayed in the opposite panel. “That all you needed?” 

“Yeah,” you agreed, climbing back into the bed of the truck you drove to pick up tows across the city. The parking brake was already locked, so engaging the lift mechanism only took the press of a few buttons. 

Your new friend was finally displeased. With a face like thunder, he stood outside of the truck and frowned up at your open window. You had already locked the doors, of course, but you were ready to start rolling up the window if needed. This wouldn’t be the first time you’d had a pickup get violent.

“Last chance, love,” he growled, accent thicker than ever. “Let me car down or I’ll have you charged with obstruction of justice and inconveniencing a federal officer.” 

That surprised a laugh out of you. The man looked equally surprised, though with a lot more displeasure than you felt. “It’s not a crime to inconvenience a federal officer.” 

“C’mon,” he urged, leaning heavily against the outside of your door. It was hard to claim that he was breaching your personal space through a truck door, especially when his expression changed to one of pleading. “Do me one favor. Just one.” 

“Fine,” you conceded with a sigh. The triumphant smile that flashed over his handsome face convinced you that you were doing the right thing. “Here’s your favor: get a new forger.” 

“Pardon?” he asked, frowning. 

“The CIA doesn’t carry badges,” you told him. 

He tilted his head at you, pulling out the wallet once more. He flipped it open to display the badge. “Hate to argue with a beautiful bird, but what would you call this?” 

“I would call that an FBI badge with ‘CIA’ written across the top.” You reached out through the window to tap on the identification badge with his face on it. “The CIA doesn’t carry badges to show the public. They just have these ID cards. Get a new forger or change your cover story.” 

You pulled your arm back into the truck for just long enough to retrieve a business card from the collection stored on top of the passenger sun visor. “Pick up your car here between six and ten pm, or anytime after nine tomorrow morning.” 

That face was darkening again, but you didn’t give him the chance to say more than a syllable or two before you were pulling away from the curb. His car on the back of the truck made it more difficult to weave through the heavy traffic of downtown, but you managed. You had been navigating these streets for most of your life. Nothing about this was any different than every other day. 

When you dropped the ragged car at the yard, Uncle Bo examined it with an expression of deep skepticism. “Tell me none’a those bumper scratches are from you.” 

You scoffed. “How long has it been since I scratched a bumper?” 

“Years,” Uncle Bo admitted readily. “You’re getting better.” 

“Admit it,” you jabbed, “you’re going to leave this business to me when you finally decide to retire.” 

Uncle Bo snorted loudly. “If you’re still around the tow yard when I decide to retire, sure. You’ll have earned it. But you better not hold your breath - I’ve got years of steam left in me.”

“I’ll remind you about that next time I catch you napping in the office.” You turned, patting him on the shoulder. “Speaking of, I’m going to go enter this in the books. The owner caught an attitude. We’ll probably hear from him again and I want to make sure all of our paperwork is in place.” 

“Good idea,” Uncle Bo agreed. “I’m heading out for the night, but I’ll have my phone if you need anything. And I don’t nap in the office. My poor old eyes need rest!”

You didn’t bother replying to the age-old argument. Bo was already gone, and you were working the late shift. The lot stayed open until ten most nights, and all of Bo’s other employees had the day off. All two of them. They were both mechanics, and since they had planned to service all of the company vehicles early the next morning, you were stuck at the yard alone that night. Bo would have to cover tomorrow night, his tired eyes be damned.

You weren’t proud to admit that you had zoned out while entering the crappy sedan’s information into the tow yard log. This wasn’t a bad job, but there had to be something more out there. Working a dead-end job at a towing company wasn’t how you wanted to spend your life. Maybe it was time to start job-hunting. Again. During a recession and a notable lack of jobs on the market. 

The groan you let out was slightly muffled when your forehead hit the log book. 

The rest of your shift was spent at the desk in the back room, scrolling through employment sites on your phone. Tragically, the shitty job market hadn’t improved in the week since you had last checked. It seemed like your options were to stay at the tow yard, work in another equally unfulfilling job, or go back to school and learn to do something useful. 

At two minutes past ten, you let your phone clatter loudly onto the table as you began to gather your things. You had chosen to wear a thicker jacket than normal that night. It wasn’t quite winter yet in the city, but it was close enough that the darker hours were unpleasantly chilly. The thick material was warm against your hand when you grabbed the jacket and started to put it on. 

And, of course, that was when the phone started to ring. 

You stared at it for a long moment, dismayed. It was almost five past ten by that point, which meant you were five minutes past any obligation to pick it up. But you couldn’t risk losing business for your uncle. And if he was happy with the work you had done, he would complain less when you left early the next day. 

Cursing your own work ethic, you picked up the phone. “Yeah?” 

“I’m here for my fuckin’ car.” 

You seriously debated hanging up immediately. It was close, but you managed to hold onto your temper. “We get a lot of that here. Wanna give me some details?” 

In a longsuffering tone, your charming caller gave you the license plate number. That information confirmed your suspicions: this was the same man whose car you had picked up earlier in the day. 

“I’ll meet you at the gate,” you told him. “Did you bring a form of payment to settle your bill?” 

“I’ve got your money,” he growled. 

“Great,” you said, then hung up. 

You were glowering as you stomped outside into the chilly night. Bo was going to have to pay your overtime. Family or not, you refused to work for free.

“Finally,” the man growled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Don’t wanna stand here all damn night.” 

You stopped, crossing your arms. “We’re closed.” 

“Now you tell me?” the man demanded. His accent was even thicker than it had been earlier, a rough British twang. His face was in shadows, but he was clearly irritated. “What the fuck are-?”

“I’ll help you get your car,” you interrupted tersely. “I’m just letting you know that I’m helping you when I don’t have to. Because I’m a great fucking person. You’re welcome. Now give me your ID and stop being an asshole or you can come back when we’re actually open.”

To your shock, he kept his mouth shut and held his ID out for you through the gaps in the chain-link fence. You took it, double checking the name against the one that the car had been registered to. An image labeled ‘Billy Butcher’ smirked up at you from the laminated card until you handed it back. 

“Give me your keys and the money. I’ll bring your car.”

Butcher huffed at that. “Not a chance. Let me in and I’ll get my own car.” 

“We’re closed,” you reminded, putting your hands on your hips. “I’m not letting you into the yard when I’m the only one here.” 

“Fine,” he gritted out, offering a wad of cash. A moment later, a set of keys was also slipped through the fence, dangling from his fingers. 

You frowned as you took the money and keys. Were his hands dirty? They looked dark around the knuckles… Quickly, you peeled off the correct number of bills and handed the rest back to him.

“Not taking a tip?” he asked, cocking a dark brow at you.

“I don’t need to steal your money.” With willpower, you managed to keep back a comment about how seeing idiots like him getting their cars towed was payment enough. 

“Be careful with her,” Butcher warned. “She’s temperamental.”

He stepped closer to the fence as he cautioned you, and you fought back a gasp. Butcher looked like he had gotten in a few fights in the few hours since you had picked up his car. One of his eyes was black, his lip was split, and one side of his face was beginning to swell. With that image in your head, you could see that his hand wasn’t dirty. His fingers were bruised, dried blood flaking at the joints of his knuckles.

“I’ll be right back.” 

Butcher didn’t say anything else as you walked off deeper into the lot, but it didn’t matter. You were lost in thought, trying to remember the signs of a concussion, and you were unlocking the door of his shitty sedan before you thought to wonder why you cared. 

Uncle Bo always liked to say that you were too soft-hearted to live in the city. You had always answered that with a snort and a rude comment, but you were starting to wonder if he may be right. 

A quick search on your phone brought up a list of symptoms, and you were keeping them fresh in your mind as you pulled the car up to the gate. As soon as you had thrown it into park, you slid from the stained seat and unlatched the chain. 

“No stupid moves.” You backed up slightly when Butcher stepped through the gates. “I’m armed.” 

Butcher looked you up and down, amusement on his face. “Whatever you say, love. ‘Sides, I don’t want nothing from you except my car.” 

You gestured invitingly toward his car. Butcher slid into the seat, caressing the steering wheel for a moment longer than you were comfortable with. He slammed the door, then rolled the window down. “See ya around.” 

Your reply - not that you intended to give one - was interrupted when he revved his engine and it promptly died. 

Butcher sat in shocked silence for a moment. He broke it almost immediately with a loud curse that he punctuated with a slam of his palm against the steering wheel. “Didn’t engage the battery disconnect, did you.” 

“Didn’t know you had one,” you said. “All the shit you said when I towed your car and you didn’t think to tell me you had a battery disconnect?” 

“Too busy findin’ out me badge is bullshit, weren’t I?” he hissed. 

“The disconnect couldn’t have been on when your car was towed,” you pointed out. “If it had been, it would have been on this whole time.” 

“I wasn’t planning to be away from my car that long.” Butcher whacked the dashboard for good measure. “Just needed to scope out the supes. Twenty minute job, then I was gonna be back in and driving away.” 

“The supes?” you repeated, frowning. “You were illegally parked in front of the Vought building. That’s why they called me to come tow you. You were spying on them?”

“Someone has to!” he snapped. “Everyone thinks those fuckers are up in their tower, waiting to protect the helpless and all of that shit. But they’re not. They’re a bunch of selfish cunts, and the only things they use their powers for is to get ahead or get off. And you’d better hope you’re never in their way for either of those, or you’ll be gone without anyone to ask what happened to you.”

The silence that fell after that was heavy and awkward. You nodded too many times, eventually finding the voice to say, “I need some coffee. Want some?” 

Butcher gave you a look so full of disbelief that you almost apologized outright, but he gave a slow nod. “Yeah.” 

You retreated to the office, filling two cheap paper cups with the pot of coffee you had unwisely brewed at eight thirty. Butcher hadn’t told you how he took his coffee, but he had answered one of your more pressing questions: he was definitely concussed.

Ultimately, that was none of your business, but it was still a little concerning. If you let him leave and he crashed his car, would it be your fault? Probably not in a legal sense. You could always claim that you hadn’t known he was injured. But would you be able to handle the guilt if he died or killed someone else? 

The moral questions tumbling through your mind kept you so focused on your thoughts that you handed Butcher his cup in utter silence, staring at him. Eventually, he swallowed a sip of the black coffee and begrudgingly said, “Thanks.” 

You blinked. “No problem. So, dead battery?” 

Butcher scowled into the open hood of his car. “Yeah. Does this a lot.” 

“I can get you a replacement,” you suggested. “As long as yours is decent and just needs charged, I can switch it out for another one for free. Or I have jumper cables if it’ll hold a charge long enough for you to get where you’re going.” 

With a slow shake of his head, Butcher said, “Nah, the battery is shot. And the alternator was holding on by a thread. This will’ve bumped it off for good. I’ll need a full replacement for both before I can drive this thing more than a mile or two.” 

Well. You sighed. “I can’t help you with a full replacement for either. I know a mechanic around the corner, but he’s not gonna be open this late. Best he’ll be able to do is tomorrow morning. At least it’ll be easy to get over there.” 

Butcher gave you a sidelong glance. “Suspiciously helpful for someone working after hours.” 

“I get paid overtime,” you replied, not missing a beat. “Besides, maybe I’m trying to earn a place in heaven.” 

“I know a faster way.” Butcher took another sip of coffee while you waited, brows lifted. “Get a drink with me.” 

The non sequitur made you blink. “What?” 

“A drink,” he repeated, exaggeratedly slowly. “Something better than shitty coffee. With me. In a bar - I’m not going to a fucking dance club.”

“How did we get from you threatening me to wanting us to get a drink?” you asked.

Butcher smirked, and you suddenly understood the expression ‘curl of the lips’. “I’ve never threatened you, love. Trust me, you’d remember. But it’s been a shit night. Shit week, actually. The only good part of it so far has been you. Best I can figure… you’re the only thing that can keep tonight from being a waste of my fuckin’ time.” 

“Flattering,” you said dryly. But you didn’t turn him down. You couldn’t claim to be interested in Billy Butcher. At least, not romantically. You thought he was interesting in a tragic comedy kind of way. More importantly, you thought - if you played your cards right - you might be able to convince him to see a doctor and make sure he didn’t have some kind of concussion-induced brain injury. 

“You know what?” you asked, watching Butcher brace for whatever horrible thing he thought you were going to say. “I could use a drink. But I get to choose the place.” 

He was quiet for much longer than you had expected, but he nodded at last. “Don’t choose somewhere shitty.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching the coffee cup from his hand. Despite his complaints, it was almost empty, and it sailed neatly into the trash can when you tossed it with an expert hand. “I’ll call my mechanic on the way.”

Butcher paused to lock his car before you left. It was a futile gesture since you would lock the yard’s gate behind you, but he insisted. Besides, it gave you a chance to call the mechanic. You even had time to find a route to your favorite bar that led past a 24-hour health clinic. All you had to do was make light conversation until you made it to the doors…

“Why do you work at a towing company?”

You blinked at the abruptness of the question, but gamely answered it: “My uncle owns it. I’ve been helping him since I was a teenager.” 

Butcher grunted. “Most people leave their first job.” 

“And what about you?” you asked, a hint of challenge in your voice. “Why do you do what you do? What do you do?” 

“I help keep supes from killing us all.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed awkwardly. “They seem like a real threat to society with all of the crime-fighting and donations to charity.” 

“Public relations, love,” Butcher told you, “nothing more.” 

“Of course they use public relations,” you replied, trying to ignore the little tingle that went through you at him using that pet name in that tone. “Most businesses have to do some kind of public relations. Especially big companies like Vought.” 

Butcher snorted. “They don’t use PR to neaten up their image; they use it to cover the mountain of shit their pet psychopaths get into. And that lot ain’t heroes. They’re a bunch of cunts with too much power and not enough people to tell ‘em to knock it off. They’re dangerous, and what makes ‘em that way is people like you who think they’re heroes.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, trying to decide between pacifying him by agreeing or antagonizing him so you could hear more of his ranting. It was fascinating and oddly entertaining, and you found yourself slowing down so you could keep talking before he got to the clinic. “But what about-?” 

“They ain’t good for society,” he insisted, interrupting you without seeming to notice. “You’re probably more of a hero than they are, and all you do is inconvenience good people.” 

“You were parked in a fire lane,” you reminded him, getting irritated. “If anyone was inconveniencing people-” 

“Have you ever thought about the people who are around for a supe fight?” Butcher asked, ignoring your excellent point. “Collateral damage, they say. Supes ruin a lot of lives, and it’s supposed to all be worth it.” 

“Sometimes,” you conceded. “But it all depends on the situation, right? If you’re just basing it off of lives saved versus lives lost, doesn’t it make more sense to sacrifice a few to save a lot of people?”

Butcher narrowed his eyes at you. “Spoken like someone who’s never had to see a kid crushed by a car or a couple cut in half by a laser beam.” 

“What are you doing about it, since you hate supes so much?” 

“Fuck-all,” Butcher told you. At your strange look, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Seems like it most days, anyway.” 

“And on the other days?” you pressed. 

“The other days…” He frowned, staring at the dirty sidewalk in front of you both, but he didn’t really seem to see it. “Some days, I help people. Help ‘em from being the next statistic Vought sweeps under the fuckin’ rug, you know?” 

You didn’t, not really. But something about the weariness in his voice was familiar, and you felt its echo in your chest. “Yeah, I know.” 

Both of you fell silent after that, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or stilted. You were at ease beside him as you walked. In fact, you were almost a little sad when you saw that you were rapidly approaching your secret destination.

Halfway up the block, a small medical clinic advertised its services with signs in multiple languages and a well-illuminated caduceus symbol. The automatic doors opened at odd intervals to let patients in or out, spilling light across the sidewalk every time. It was staffed and reliable without being crowded, and everything in the clinic was ruthlessly clean. It was the place you took Uncle Bo, your coworkers, and yourself if something happened at the tow yard, or if someone was feeling under the weather. They had always been good to you, and you knew they would be good to Billy Butcher, too. 

“Maybe we should stop here for a minute,” you suggested, pausing by the door.

Butcher glanced up at the sign, dark brows furrowing. The next instant, his eyes were roaming up and down your body and face. “You hurt?” 

“No, but you might be.” Butcher sighed and started walking again, but you didn’t budge. “I’m serious! You might have a concussion and that can end up ruining your life.” 

Butcher rounded, now several feet ahead of you. “You really think I don’t know what a concussion feels like? Just call me a pussy. It’s faster.”

You rolled your eyes, but caught up with him as he started walking away again. After a block of irritable silence, he glanced sidelong at you. “Are you actually interested in a drink? Or did you just want to get me to a doctor?” 

“Bit of both,” you answered after a moment of consideration.

“Makes one of us,” he muttered. “Don’t know how much I feel like having a drink now. You’ve ruined my appetite.”

“Wanting a drink doesn’t count as an appetite.” You weren’t entirely sure why you were still following Butcher down the sidewalk. 

“Is this what you do?” he demanded, stopping short and rounding on you. His face was all righteous fury, dark brows stabbing upward as his nostrils flared. His hands braced against his hips, splaying his coat until he looked like a big creature puffing itself bigger with rage. “Nag people to make yourself feel more important? It’s annoyin’ as fuck.” 

You had stopped short to keep from running into Butcher, so it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that you dropped your eyes to the bit of sidewalk between you. After a few breaths to get yourself back on an even keel, you met his eyes again. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized freely. “I didn’t realize I was bothering you so badly. I’ll have one fo the technicians call you tomorrow morning with details about your car.”

It was your turn to whip around and start walking in the opposite direction. You weren’t entirely shocked when a second set of footsteps began to echo yours. You glanced up at Butcher. “You don’t have to come back with me. I’ll make sure your car gets to the mechanic shop tomorrow.” 

“Not gonna let you walk back there alone, am I?” he asked. “There’s too many dumb fuckers about for that.” 

There was clearly no point in arguing with him, so you didn’t bother. You wrapped your arms around yourself, even though it made you walk like a duck. The evening was just tipping from cool to cold, especially with the wind picking up. And the lack of conversation between you and Butcher somehow managed to be colder than the autumn night.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you started, breaking the silence, “I don’t think that you’re concussed. Not anymore.”

“Yeah?” Butcher pressed when he had finished giving a loud snort. “What am I then, doctor?” 

You stared him full in the face as you replied, “A conspiracy nut with a vendetta against supes. But you’re pretty harmless, all things considered.” 

Butcher laughed at that, loud and sharp. The joy made him look more savage, his teeth flashing sharply white against the darkness of his facial hair, and you needed a moment before you could pull your eyes from his face. “Can’t argue with none of that, love. But if you think I’m anywhere near as dangerous as an uncontrolled supe, you haven’t been payin’ attention.” 

“Maybe you’re not, but I don’t see any supes around here,” you pointed out. “Controlled or otherwise.” 

“Thank fuck for that,” Butcher muttered. “Well, seein’ as I’m not so dangerous after all, maybe we should go get a drink.” 

“Thought you weren’t in the mood anymore,” you said, a challenging little tilt to your chin. 

Butcher stroked his chin, thoughtful eyes on you. “I could be persuaded. That is, if you’re still in the mood.” 

“Not really,” you admitted, watching him deflate slightly from the corner of your eye. “But I have some energy and frustration to burn off. You interested in helping out with that?” 

It took a moment for Butcher’s parted lips to form words, and you watched the process patiently. “Are you propositionin’ me?” 

“Yes,” you confirmed. “Are you offended by that?” 

“Offended you beat me to it.” Butcher’s grin had gone from disbelieving to wolfish in less time than it took to get that sentence out. “And I accept.” 

“Good, we’ll go to my apartment,” you decided. “It’s close and clean.” 

“Had me at ‘close’,” Butcher told you, trailing close to your heels. “Lead on, love.”

---

Author's Note - This definitely isn't a substantial enough plot to need two parts, but I ran out of time to edit. Explicit part two coming tomorrow!

[myfandomprompts]

It'll Be History | Aemond One Shot

Aemond x Reader Modern AU!College Masterlist Synopsis: You are in college of Westeros University. You are a perfectly normal student, going out with your friends and following classes, even if you have a sweet spot for the library. This is where one particularly attractive purpled-eye man annoys you for the first time. Tags: Flirt, hot tempered!reader, enemy(ish) to lovers, cocky! Aemond, and you’re a bit of a history nerd. And this is definitely a slow burn.

A/N: Just a little thing I made, nothing too fancy but I enjoy that Aemond. Hope you do as well

You were falling behind, your essay was due for the end of the week and you had spend too much time in your friends’ dorms watching TV instead of studying. That’s how you ended up at the library for three days straight, eyes never swaying astray from the many books spread out on your table. Well, almost.

The first hours of the first day had been fine, you had your own little space where your books were saved by library policy and it was relatively quiet and separate from the main area, but at the end of the afternoon someone came to sit in your direct line of vision, on the table across from you.

From then you had tried to remain focused, but several things bothered you: one, you had never seen him before despite being at the University for a long time. Second, he had not moved an inch of the whole afternoon, stark opposite to you who were going to the coffee machine every now and then, in a desperate need for the boost the caffeine gave you. But not him, he didn’t depart the space you had claimed for yourself between the two rows of books about medieval history and he kept reading his book about God knows what with his pretty eye travelling the paper.

He wasn’t doing anything wrong, per say, but it irritated you nonetheless, seeing him here, the way he was not paying attention to anything else around him but his work even when the irritating laugh of the librarian echoed and reached both of your ears.

But you tried to ignore it, the feeling it gave you, you would not give him this satisfaction. You were not one to pay attention to boys, especially those who were tall, blond, had a chiselled jaw and had apparently everything for themselves except for the scar over his eye. Not you.

The second day you concluded that your essay was causing you to overstress because he was there once again, reading the same book, a pencil in his hand that he twirled between his fingers at times, and it flustered you. As you… observed him further, you saw him write inside the book he was reading, once, then twice, leaving black lines and notes over the paper.

You hated that, when you opened the book you had picked on a shelf and found scribbling from another student in it. A library’s book was everybody’s book, don’t mess with it, or at least erase it.

But you said nothing as you desperately tried to type away on your computer, moving the screen in order to hide him from your view, wishing he was gone. But he always remained, arriving one hour after you and departing one hour before you left.

The third day, your deadline, he was there again, and you felt your nerves be tested at their highest point as you tried your best to ignore the fact that instead of writing on his perfectly blank pad, he persisted in writing inside the book, a new one at that. You don’t know why but your focus was definitely gone, you felt your nerves finally crack and the next moment you were on your feet, making your way to his desk.

“You can’t do that.”

The man looked at you through his long eyelashes in surprise, like it was the first time he acknowledged your existence even though you have been seated across from him for the last three days. He gave you an incredulous look before taking off his airpods.

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t write in the library books. It’s damaging the university’s property.”

He only stared up at you with a furrowed brow, obviously not expecting anyone to bother him and remained silent.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance and sighed, made your way over to your desk, rummaged in your bag to find a specific paper you know you owned before going back to him, extending the said paper to his face.

“It’s written here. Article 24: All damages inflicted on any documents will be subjected to a sanction in accordance with article 14 of the present regulation,” you read, pointing at the said line.

He glanced at the paper boringly before looking at you again, pausing to see if you would continue. You didn't.

“Which is?”

Now he was teasing you, you knew it, and you were fuming. However you decided to oblige him, turning the paper brutally towards you again and read out article 14 that said that the student would be suspended from loans and a report to be submitted to the President of the University.

As you read this, you realised that you were definitely nickpicking: writing in books with a mere pencil was not worth this kind of trouble, surely. But you could not back down now. You may have drank too much caffeine.

You saw him repress a smile as he clicked his tongue, pretending to go into deep thinking.

“Hmm. And what about our own books?”

“What?” you snapped.

He displayed a clear smirk as he directed your gaze to his book, a book which had no label indicating it belonged to the library. You swallowed as you stared at the thin writing on the paper next to it, straightening up. You felt really foolish right now.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, choosing to look as unfazed by this as possible, “May it serve you for future circumstances, as a reminder.”

You wasted no time to escape his amused eye and go sit back at your desk, hiding behind your laptop screen, exhaling silently at your obvious failure. It will teach you, you thought to yourself. Being picky like that, and falling behind on your damn essay!

You barely managed to get any work done as you tried to avoid looking at the man’s direction for the rest of the afternoon, internally wishing that he would still ignore you as he had done the last few days.

You were out of the library much sooner that day.

In the end, you had submitted your essay in time, and you could finally relax. You hung out with your friends at a long due and deserved reunion and even managed to not think of the unforgettable look your library companion had given you the day before. Then the weekend came and you enjoyed the comfort of your dorm, listening to music and scrolling through Instagram. Comfy into your bed, you were ready to let sleep take you when a text popped onto your screen, from an unknown number.

“Hi.”

It piqued your interest. You were organised enough to have everybody you knew registered into your phone, name as well as a last name, preventing any surprises. And this right there was a bold text, a suspicious one.

“Who is this?” you replied, the answer coming shortly after:

“Care for a guess?” you frowned. This was not looking good, and you were not in the mood.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“It’s the weekend. People usually have more free time on the weekend.”

“Tell me your name.”

No response came. After an hour of silence, you gave up on the hope of having a reply and threw your phone on the bedside table. Modern technology was really a pain sometimes.

Nothing new arose from the conversation during the whole weekend and by Monday, you had forgotten all about it. But at noon, you were forced to remember as another text came in.

“I don’t think the gardeners would appreciate that.”

You stopped what you were doing at once, your heart speeding in your chest.

You were sitting on the grass on the inside courtyard, waiting for a friend of yours for lunch, and since you had arrived you had absent-mindedly ripped off a good amount of grass, an old and bad habit of yours that you did when you were stressed. Anything that would come under your hand really, you would rip it out without noticing, too focused on your phone in your hand.

You believed highly impossible for your mysterious pen pal to be in your surroundings. And yet you could not ignore it.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s not very nice to destroy the very ground we sit on, it's university's property, right?”

You stared at the text, feeling stalked, and you immediately made an internal list of each of your friends who would have gone as far as to buy a new phone just to mess with you. But none fitted the description and you proceeded to scan the courtyard for anyone who might be observing you.

Then your eyes landed on a familiar face and you met the gaze of the annoying library man, sitting at a table across the courtyard, a faint smile on his lips. You recognised him instantly, the sight of him making your jaw drop. He can’t be… But as you hesitated, considering the unwillingness to avert his gaze from you and staring straight at you with the phone in his hand, all but innocent, it made your case.

You got up, rubbing your hands together in anger and strode up straight up to him.

“How did you get my number?” you roared.

He was clearly having the time of his life.

“You gave it to me,” he replied as if it was obvious.

You narrowed your eyes, thinking it over in a moment of doubt. “…No I didn’t!”

He sighed and reached for something in his bag, presenting you the University’s Library’s Rules paper you had given him days ago. You snatched it from his hands and examined it, turning it over. Your heart dropped into your chest when you saw that your phone number was there, scribbled at the bottom of the page. You remembered having written it down months ago when you had to copy it for registration.

You felt blood running up your cheeks at the realisation that you were once again making a spectacle of yourself before him, the very man you did not wish to be involved with. How you hated him right now.

“It was not- I didn’t-" you closed your eyes in exasperation, trying to find the right words and stop your stammering. “I didn’t know it was written there. I definitely would not have given you my number!”

“Hmm. That’s disappointing. I really thought we made good library partners.”

You bit your lips in annoyance, the man’s lilac eye noticing it and glancing at it for a second before taking the paper from you again, watching how his hands folded the paper with precision.

“What are you studying anyway? I have never seen you before,” you asked, the silence unbearable to you.

“History," he simply said, taking care of putting the paper away.

“No, you’re not. I am in history and as I said, I’ve never seen you.”

“Because you know everyone in the University?” he inquired, arching a brow at you.

“Maybe not everyone, but in history I believe I do, yes.”

He bit his inner cheek in order to repress a smile at your charming fury and shrugged. “It’s because I only take classes that are of interest to me. I took philosophy modules on the side.”

You watched him warily, secretly admiring his bold indifference at your favourite subject.

"Fancy yourself a thinker perhaps?” you teased.

You liked philosophy, but it has never been your area of expertise. He smirked again.

“Perhaps.”

You found nothing else to say as you received another text on your phone. Your friend had not found you in your usual place. You turned to see her looking around next to your bags still on the grass. You granted one last look at the man before leaving. “Well, good luck with that. Try not to ruin Descartes’ books.”

His eye did not leave you as you sat down near your friend until he was forced to leave in order to attend his next class.

Over the next few days, you often found yourself opening the text conversation you had with the nameless guy without knowing why and closing it seconds after. But it bugged you to see unknown number each time you opened the text app next to your perfectly named conversation of your friends, so you ended up naming him upsetting cretin and officially registering him in your contact. It did not prevent you from still opening the conversation from time to time, however.

On Wednesday, you had sighted him in the corridors, talking to a philosophy professor at the entrance of a class. You could not help but notice how tall he was when you passed by him, his charisma making you stare at him for longer than you wanted, and each time you ended up looking at the floor to stop yourself from looking at him and speeding up your pace. That was not like you.

You saw him again later that day, talking with a woman with hair as blond as him before heading toward the main hall. Your friends, in a circle at the entrance of said hall, deep in conversation about the last Netflix series, granted you the perfect cover to slip out behind one of the pillars of the porch, avoiding being seen by him as he entered the building and took the staircase. But you received a text in the next minute.

“You sucked at hide-and-seek as a kid, didn’t you?”

You growled and furiously shoved your phone into your pocket.

You had been to the library twice, Thursday afternoon and Friday morning, but you were relieved to see no traces of him. At least that is what you told yourself.

Then Friday afternoon you had a free hour, and you chose to join some of your friends on the outside tables next to the coffee shop, who were already drinking their beverages happily while you had to queue for your own inside.

As you waited in line, you sensed someone’s gaze on you and you only had to raise your head to meet the piercing purple gaze of… upsetting cretin man, seated at a near table. You didn’t flinch as you held his gaze, your disdain unconcealed, but he continued to stare at you for a moment before resuming his book reading, turning the page as if it was the most peaceful task in the world.

You sighed in irritation, trying to ignore him, but your eyes were inexplicably drawn to him, staring at his annoying handsome features. You stared a little too long because at one point he looked up directly at you again, smirking as he met your unyielding gaze. Something in his eye glowed, and he was now looking at you like you were the funniest thing in the world. You didn't like to be mocked. You took out your phone abruptly.

“Stop it.”

You watched him reach for his own and his look of satisfaction made you regret sending the text in the first place.

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like that.”

“It is you who troubles me with your inquisitive look Y/N.”

You internally fumed as you replied nothing, patiently waiting for your coffee to be served before making your way to him. “How do you know my name, exactly?”

He dropped his book nonchalantly.

“Because you have the bad habit to drink too much of this when you work,” he pointed to your hot cup of coffee. “And that I saw numerous cups fill your desk with your name on it when we were at the library. I can write, think and I can read,” he said in a sarcastic tone.

You quickly pivoted your cup to hide your name on it, staring at it as if it was the cause of all of your misery.

You found your wits soon enough. “At least you have been able to put a name on a face," you retorted as you searched the table for signs of a cup of his own, hoping to learn his name, "Because in my case, I was forced to find you one for whenever one of your damn texts pops up on my phone.”

“Really? And how did you name me then? I’m curious.”

You bit your lips. You had talked too fast again. You could not tell him the nickname you had registered him under on an angry whim. No way.

“It’s hum… I don’t remember,” you lied as you sipped your coffee in an attempt to make your lie believable, warming up your body further than it already was. Bad choice.

But he was quick. You had made the mistake of putting down your phone on the table as you drank and he had grabbed it, your text conversation with him still open. You gasped before reaching and snatching your precious object from his hand at once, unfortunately for you he had had enough time to peek at it and he was smiling again.

“Ahh. Upsetting cretin. That’s not really flattering. I don’t know how to feel about this, was it really your first impression of me?” he said as you sent him a furious glare.

“Why don’t you tell me your name and maybe I will find something more suitable to label you as?” you replied defiantly, putting your phone safely into your pocket.

“Hmm. I don’t know. I don’t think you deserve to know yet. I am clearly offended.”

You hold his gaze, conscious that he was shamelessly toying with you. Then your eyes landed on the book he had closed when you had come over to him and you saw your chance.

Grabbing it at light speed, you briefly acknowledged the cover, Violence and culture of the sword in the sixteenth century, internally praising the choice of subject and proceeded to open the second page straight away, as he suddenly tensed and tried to stop you. But you had found what you wanted, a blank space with a first and a last name on it, in his writing. As you read it the gears in your head came to a stop.

“Aemond Targaryen…” you read out loud as he retrieved his book from your hands and tucked it in his bag, not smiling any more. “Why do I know that name…?”

He sighed, passing a hand through his neck in tension. He did not answer you right away.

“It’s a common name-” he began to lie.

“No no no no, I heard it somewhere before, I’m sure of it," you interrupted him, frowning in deep thinking.

He wetted his lips and you forgot to think for a minute, but then your phone buzzed in your pocket and you suddenly remembered.

“Targaryen Incorporation! Your family owns half of the city hotels!”

You were so happy that you remembered that you felt instantly very bad when you met the gloomy face of the silver-haired man before you, erasing your smile at once and looking at him in slight concern. But as soon as he noticed how you were now looking at him, he gave you what you thought to be the attempt at a reassuring smile before speaking again.

“Yes. And are really proud of it.”

You didn’t know if it was bitterness, but you still felt bad and chose it better to leave him be, looking at your phone where worried texts appeared on your friend’s group chat, wondering how long could a coffee take to be served.

“Someone waiting for you?” he asked as you answered your friends quickly.

“Just… a couple of friends outside," you said, pausing as you both held your gaze, feeling a longing that had not been there before. "I should go.”

“Me too.”

You both got up, going in the same direction, Aemond opened the door for you before wishing you a good afternoon and heading toward the main building without a glance back. You watched him leave, slightly ashamed at how things had gone between you, but you soon joined your friends, hoping that it would take your mind off of this.

“Was that… Aemond Targaryen just now?”

You looked at one of your friends as you sat down, taken aback. “Yes, why?”

“Why? Because he just talked to you and because he has been on my “hot student” radar since I first saw him. Plus, he is Aemond Targaryen. The man no one dares to approach.”

You remained silent as you listened to her talking about the Targaryen family and that she had on good authority that Aemond, besides coming to the University to join her sister, was making his way to the top student of philosophy classes. She then inquired how you two had met and as you told her about the library, excluding the fact that you had his number, she proceeded in praising his looks for at least ten minutes before your other friends stopped her, laughing at her talkativeness.

You were deep in thought after that, not focused on the conversation that followed at all.

You opened your contact app, looking at upsetting cretin for a moment before touching “rename”. You hesitated, then you typed Aemond, only Aemond. No last name. Then you hit “confirm”. You looked at your conversation again, reading the last text. “It is you who troubles me.”

You locked your phone swiftly, not trusting yourself over not sending him a reply. You would not make that mistake. His dreamy looks would not make you yield.

This was one of your favourite classes and favourite teacher, “Great Minds of the Renaissance” taught by a Machiavelli specialist. It was one of the rare classes where you were seated at the front, not wishing to bring any attention to yourself usually.

But this one class had you even participate, exchanging with the teacher and your classmates about Da Vinci or Martin Luther, and enjoying every minute of it.

The current topic was around the French War of religion and how Catherine de Medicis’ role had caused civil war as you pointed out that at the start, she had been one of the supporters of the peace between the two religions. Others pointed out that the later massacres of thousands of Protestants indicated that her politic had failed, then someone two rows behind you made the claim that she had not been responsible, and that it was her entourage that had influenced her to the point of no return.

You slowly turned as your classmates continued their debate. You would recognise that last voice anywhere as your eyes landed on Aemond, a satisfied smile directed at you, a pen twirling skilfully between his fingers. You wondered how long he had been there as you turned to look at the teacher in an attempt to not lose focus.

Then your hand rose again, and you argued that the Queen Regent had suffered previous attacks from the Protestants, driving her to fear them and later, leading a politic of repression, undermining Aemond’s previous claim. As you finished and the professor took that opportunity to argue further on the subject, you looked back at Aemond defiantly, daring him to find something to reply to that, but he only watched you as if you were the most interesting thing he had ever seen, and before you knew it, the class had ended.

As you gathered your things, you saw one missed text as you unlocked your phone.

“Enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Your smile did not go unnoticed as Aemond watched you from afar. You made your way to the door, but as you searched the corridor, Aemond Targaryen was nowhere to be seen. You took your phone again, hesitating before typing.

“Very much.”

You tried not to smile stupidly at your screen as you headed to your next class.

“Are you going tonight?” your dorm mate asked as she came over to your part of the room. Tonight was a uni party that you were not that interested in.

“Mhh, I don’t know, maybe next time.”

“I think you’re missing out, we had fun last time, remember?”

“Hm, hm," you only managed to answer as you saw your screen light up, displaying the name belonging to the face that occupied your thoughts nowadays. You could not get rid of him, it drove you mad.

“Do you often forget your belongings?”

You frowned. What have you done now.

“Do you often sneak into other’s classes?”

“I take it that you don’t really miss your book on numismatics?”

You froze. It has been a gift from your mother last Christmas, and you needed it for a future essay.

You instantly got up, startling your roommate as you looked into your bag, shelves and on your desk for the said book. You found nothing. You cursed as you grabbed your phone again.

“Where did you find it?” you typed, angry at yourself for leaving such a precious item lying around for anyone, for him to take.

“I could tell you over a coffee when I return it to you.”

You bit your lips. Damn this man.

“Nice try. Besides, nothing proves that you truly have it.”

You waited for the answer, eyes glued to the screen. Then a picture appeared. Just your book, on a desk next to what you thought was half of a picture of blond haired people that had made it to the frame.

“Do I have your trust now?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I want it back at the next class we share. Don’t you dare write in it.”

“Too late,” came his response. You laughed softly at that, imagining the pages covered by his thin writing. You were certain that he drew as beautifully as he wrote.

“I can’t help but think that it’s unfair,” he texted again. “I really think that you owe me that coffee.”

Inside, your heart was jumping in your chest. Up there, your head was telling you to cool it. You had been awful with him, and now he was… what, asking you out?

“No coffee,” you replied after a moment of struggle inside your mind. He certainly didn’t deserve that answer but you could not help but argue with him.

Nothing came back, and after five minutes you put down your phone again, resuming the video you were watching on your laptop.

Someone knocked at your door.

You exchanged looks with your roommate: none of you expected someone. She did not move as you had no choice but be the one to open the door. You certainly did not expect this.

“Y/N,” came the voice of Aemond, looking down at you, hands behind his back. He took a step forward, advancing into the room, glancing around. “Nice poster,” he said, pointing at a modern version of the Vitruvian Man holding a guitar hanging over your desk.

“What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?”

“These are dormitories, it’s not very complicated to find you. And my sister lives in the above level.”

“Ok but-” you stammered, unsure of what to say, “Why didn’t you text me that you were coming?”

“You would have said no.”

The atmosphere tensed all of a sudden. You kept looking at him in dismay and he was holding your gaze so intensely that you thought your body was going rigid for a second.

“Ok!" came the voice of your roommate, making both you and Aemond jump. "I’ll head out.” She had seen your exchange and thought that you greatly needed the privacy. “Take your time, I will be… doing anything else.”

You opened your mouth to tell her to stay but nothing came out as Aemond remained silent, watching your friend take her coat and scoot off. She gave you a knowing smile before making Aemond move to let her pass, closing the door behind him, trapping you with the man who annoyed you the most. You would be angry at her later. For the moment all you could think of was that Aemond was in your room, looking in his surroundings, and you were absolutely not prepared.

“Do you have the book?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No," came his plain answer.

You opened your mouth in dismay. Wasn’t it the point? To return your book to you? “Excuse me? Then what-”

“One date,” he interrupted. “One date and I give you your book back. That’s all I ask.”

Your jaw dropped lower, and you took a sharp breath in order to assess his words. Had he really said that?

“You are blackmailing me... so I go on a date with you,” you said slowly, looking at him ravishing in your appalled face.

“That’s a way to put it. From my point of view, it’s just a simple arrangement. I give you what you want, and…”

He let the end of his phrase hang into the air, his eye boring into yours as you instantly tensed, the implication of his words sinking into your being. Damn he was gorgeous, it was not fair.

His gaze fell onto your lips as you were still unable to move a single limb. He took a step closer.

“And you finally make up to me for entering into my life and wreaking havoc in my mind.”

You could feel his breath onto your skin, and you repressed the need to close your eyes as his enticing scent overwhelmed your senses, making you wish that it could accompany you everywhere.

“I still think you deserved it,” you said in a voice you did not recognise. The air was as stuck into your lungs and you were sure that you would not recognise your eyes either, hazy as you could only look at Aemond’s lips.

“Hmm.”

The sound he made reverberated into your core, and you had barely registered the hand he had placed onto the back of your neck as you closed the gap between you and kissed him, entrapping your lips with his as he pulled you closer.

When you broke the kiss, gasping for air, his thumb was grazing the outline of your jaw.

“One date,” you breathed out, peering into his magnificent purple eye.

“We'll see.”

You smiled at his words, wrapping your arms around him again.

[queenofthedisneyverse]

La Violencia (Research I did for Encanto fic writers so you don't have to)

TW: Assassination and death

Long but necessary post

@yellowcry @miracles-and-butterflies @evostar (if you already knew about it, that's fine, but reblog so others can too.)

To put it simply;

During this time, an estimated 200,000 people lost their lives, with 112,000 of those deaths occurring between 1948 and 1950. Additionally, two million people were forcibly displaced from their homes, primarily to Venezuela.

The root of this conflict lies in the intense partisan rivalries between Colombia’s two traditional political parties: the Liberal Party and the Conservative Party. These tensions created a divide between liberals and conservatives, eventually leading to the partial collapse of the state and existing institutional structures. As violence escalated, economic motivations began to outweigh political ones, and armed bands took advantage of the chaos to commit robberies, assaults, and revenge against their neighbors.

More in depth;

La Violencia was a ten-year civil war in Colombia from 1948 to 1958, between the Colombian Conservative Party and the Colombian Liberal Party, fought mainly in the countryside.

Liberal hegemony continued through the 1930s and the World War II era, and Alfonso López Pumarejo was reelected in 1942; however, wartime conditions were not favourable to social change. In the elections of 1946, two Liberal candidates, Gabriel Turbay and Jorge Eliécer Gaitán, stood for election and thus split the Liberal vote. A Conservative, Mariano Ospina Pérez, took office. 

Conservatives had been embittered by political sidelining and, since 1930, had suffered violent attacks at the hands of Liberal supporters. With the electoral victory of 1946 they instituted a series of crude reprisals against Liberals. It was the initiation of the period that was dubbed La Violencia. On April 9, 1948, Gaitán, leader of the left wing of the Liberal Party, was assassinated in broad daylight in downtown Bogotá. The resulting riot and property damage (estimated at $570 million throughout the country) came to be called the bogotazo.

La Violencia originated in an intense political feud between Liberals and Conservatives and had little to do with class conflict, foreign ideologies, or other matters outside Colombia.  Authoritative sources estimate that more than 200,000 persons lost their lives in the period between 1946 and 1964.

The most spectacular aspect of the violence, however, was the extreme cruelty perpetrated on the victims, which has been a topic of continuing study for Colombians. La Violencia intensified under the regime of Laureano Gómez (1950–53), who attempted to introduce a fascist state. His excesses brought his downfall by military coup—Colombia’s first in the 20th century. Gen. Gustavo Rojas Pinilla assumed the presidency in 1953 and, aided by his daughter, María Eugenia Rojas, began an effort to end La Violencia and to stimulate the economy.

Rojas was a populist leader who supported citizens’ demands for the redress of grievances against the elite. Support for Rojas began to collapse when it appeared that he would not be able to fulfill his promises, when he showed reluctance to give up power, and when the economy faltered as a result of a disastrous fall in coffee prices in 1957. He was driven from office that year by a military junta.

The arrangement for the National Front government—a coalition of Conservatives and Liberals—was made by Alberto Lleras Camargo, representing the Liberals, and Laureano Gómez, leader of the Conservative Party, in the Declaration of Sitges (1957).

The unique agreement provided for alternation of Conservatives and Liberals in the presidency, an equal sharing of ministerial and other government posts, and equal representation on all executive and legislative bodies. The agreement was to remain in force for 16 years—equivalent to four presidential terms, two each for Conservatives and Liberals. The question of what governmental structure would follow the National Front was left unsettled.

It had been contemplated that a Conservative would be the first to occupy the presidency in 1958. When the Conservative Party could not agree on a candidate, however, the National Front selected Lleras, who had previously served in that office for 12 months in 1945–46.

During Lleras’s tenure an agrarian reform law was brought into effect, national economic planning for development began, and Colombia became the showcase of the Alliance for Progress (a U.S. attempt to further economic development in Latin America). But severe economic difficulties caused by low coffee prices, domestic unemployment, and the apparent end of the effectiveness of import substitution were only partially offset by Alliance aid. 

The Alliance increased Colombia’s economic dependence on the United States, which, to some Colombians, had serious disadvantages. By 1962 economic growth had come almost to a standstill.

The precarious state of the economy and the degree of social tension were revealed when only about half of those eligible to vote did so in the 1962 presidential elections, which brought Guillermo León Valencia, a Conservative, to the presidency.

During Valencia’s first year in office internal political pressures led to devaluation of the peso (Colombia’s currency), wage increases among unionized workers of some 40 percent, and the most rampant inflation since 1905. Extreme deflationary policies were applied in the next three years, raising the unemployment rates above 10 percent in the major cities and turning even more Colombians against the National Front. 

Less than 40 percent of the electorate went to the polls in the 1964 congressional elections.

Marxist guerrilla groups began appearing in Colombia during Valencia’s presidency. The first was the National Liberation Army (Ejército de Liberación Nacional; ELN), which was created by a group of Colombian students who had studied in Cuba.

Founded in 1964, the ELN followed strategies espoused by Che Guevara. Another guerrilla group, which followed two years later, was the Colombian Revolutionary Armed Forces (Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia; FARC), which was more connected to Soviet-influenced communist movements. Much of FARC originated in the “resistance committees” that had appeared in Colombia during La Violencia.

Carlos Lleras Restrepo was the third National Front president (1966–70). He returned the economy to a sound footing, improved government planning for economic development, and pushed through political reforms essential to an orderly end to the Front (which seemed increasingly to constitute a monopoly of power by the Conservative-Liberal oligarchy).

Although the constitutional reform of 1968 stipulated that elections would become competitive again after 1974, the president was still required to give “adequate and equitable” representation to the second largest political party in his cabinet and in the filling of other bureaucratic posts.

Read more here (This article is mostly where I got my info from as well as copilot.ai. I know, AI is bad, but please don't judge me. I was not about to do six hours of research when I have a tool that can help me in seconds.)

What does this have to do with the madrigals?

Well, if you're planning on writing any madrigal (or all) outside of Encanto, La violencia is something you need to take into consideration. It's an important part of Colombia's culture and shouldn't be ignored.

(I just learned about it recently and in turn, need to rewrite some stuff. So I can only imagine that half of the Encanto fandom knows nothing about it)

What cities were safe you ask? I don't think there really was any.

Bogotá: As the capital of Colombia, Bogotá witnessed significant unrest during this period. Political factions clashed, leading to violence and instability.

Cali: Cali, located in the southwestern part of the country, also suffered from La Violencia. It was a hotspot for clashes between Liberal and Conservative supporters.

Medellín: Medellín, another major city, faced its share of violence. The conflict often played out in the streets, affecting civilians and communities.

Barranquilla: This coastal city experienced tensions between rival political groups, resulting in bloodshed and loss of life.

Cartagena: Cartagena, known for its historical significance, was not immune to the violence. The struggle between Liberals and Conservatives left scars on its urban landscape.

Cúcuta: Located near the border with Venezuela, Cúcuta also witnessed violence during La Violencia.

Palmira, Santa Marta, Soledad Atlántico, Armenia, Pereira, Neiva, Valledupar, Bucaramanga, Popayán, Villavicencio, and Soacha were other cities affected by the turmoil.

So, in either city, the madrigals would be exposed to this war if they chose to come out. Now, let's say Encanto is in the very center of Colombia (or at lease close to it) -

(Right where the red dot is)

The closest area is Villavicencio, Puerto Lypez, and Bogota. All three cities that were affected by the war. And I'm not saying Villavicencio is THAT close to Encanto, probably a week trip at best, but still.

Why did I choose the center of Colombia?

Because I don't see it sitting anywhere else. And it's convenient fic wise. But you can do what you want.

Now I'm not saying the Madrigals won't experience fun in the new world. They most certainly will (culture and technology wise), but the war is really unavoidable for them.

That's all for now, but if you have anything to add or for me to correct, reblog or message me.

[gavi4me]

Hiii! Can you make a smut where y/n is studying for a while and Pablo comes home and gets upset that she’s over working herself leading into a smut? Thank youuu 😘😘

Study session

I know very little to nothing about law so don’t come after the questions or answers in the book. They are copy n pasted!

Okay so AHHH. ofc!! I love this idea bc I’ve had a study smut in my drafts for a minute and was thinking about posting it.

Warnings - unprotected sex, slight age gap (19 - 21), cursing, blowjob!, (lmk if there are more)

I was listening to promiscuous the entire time of writing this fic haha

“Baby, I’m home!” Pablo yelled as he slammed the door shut. You didn’t respond though, too focused on your notes and studying to answer.

“Baby? Where are you.” That was a stupid question on Pablo’s end, of course it was in your office. “There you are, why aren’t you answering me cariño?”.

“Sorry I didn’t hear you.” You lied, not taking your eyes off your notes,

“Bullshit. I yelled that I was here.” You didn’t respond. Only a little “hmm” making Pablo aware of you not listening.

“What are you doing?” He asked coming over. Another stupid question.

“Studying…” you said, analyzing your textbook. You were majoring in law. Becoming a lawyer was your biggest dream. And it was slowly becoming true, gaining an internship at a huge law firm for a whole summer.

“You were studying when I left Bebé. That was almost 8 hours ago.”

“Hmmmm” you mumbled while writing down something. “You know how important this exam is for my grade. I need to do perfect.”

“And you can still achieve perfect if you take breaks.”. Pablo reached his arms around you to close your notebook, picking it up as well before putting it on a high shelf where he knew you couldn’t reach.

“Pabloooo” you whined tugging on his shirt, wanting to continue to study.

He came over behind you, finger tips massaging your shoulders while kissing your temples.

“It’s time you take a break bebé.”

“Pleaseeee. I promise I took a break. I went to the bathroom once.” You argued back, just wanting to get your textbook back.

“Once in an 8 hour span. Besides, I’m sure you’d enjoy to something else much more than studying.” He said as he turned your chair around to face him before kissing your lips, then jaw, and neck.

You couldn’t contain yourself from moaning when he found your sweet spot, not wanting him to stop though you knew it was wrong

“Ugh Pablo. Your so good at bribing me with your kisses.” You pushed him off before standing up to leave. He grabbed your waist, pulling you back to him.

“Come back. How about we do a game involving studying, but I’ll play too.”

You looked at him with a weird face. What game?

He went over to your drawers, searching through the giant mess you had created, finally finding what he needed.

Flash cards.

“Flash cards?” You asked. “But you don’t know anything about the test. How will you play?”.

“Sit on the bed.” You did as you were told and sat at the edge of the bed, waiting for Pablo to come over.

“Here’s the game. For every question you get right, I take off an article of clothing. For every question you get wrong, you take off an article of clothing. Same rules for me. Just studying. Nothing else. You want to play?” You starred at him for second, deciding if this was just him wanting to have sex or to actually help.

“Fine. But we actually need to study. Act as if this was a regular study session and nothing more.”

“Fine by me. Jewelry doesn’t count” he said putting his hand out for you to shake.

You shook it as he picked out the first card.

“First card is criminal law for defense. What is defence of property regulated by?”

“criminal damage act 1971 is a ‘belief that property was in an immediate need of being protected”

“Good.” He started off strong, taking his shirt off making you choke on the glass of water gavi had gave you before he left.

“Your turn”

“Hmm okay I’ll go easy. What does ‘actus reus’ mean in latin?”

“I’ve known you long enough to know that ‘actus reus’ means guilty act”

“Wow well done” You looked down at your feet realizing you didn’t have any socks on. There goes that plan. You pulled your shirt off, revealing a tiny, lace bra you knew Pablo loved.

“Wow” Pablo said starring at your chest, licking his lips. “Hard to keep my promise.”

This continued until all you were left in were your shorts and bra and Pablo in boxers.

“Okay if you get this problem right, you win.” Pablo announced picking up one last flash card, expecting to lose.

“what type of test is the one outlined in the criminal justice and immigration act 2008 for reasonable force and what were they?”

“subjective. s76(3) force was ‘reasonable in the circumstances as the defendant believed them to be’. s76(7) ‘a person acting for legitimate purpose may not be able to weigh to a nicety the exact measure of any necessary action.”

This game was making you so needy for Pablo’s love and affection and anything from the boy though that was against the promise you two had made.

“Yeah whatever you said” he said before gripping at the waistband of his boxers. As he was about to pull them down, you reached your hand out holding his hand in place.

“Do not want me to?” He asked trying pulling them back up higher, searching for his shirt.

“No no..I do, but I want to do it for you.” You said looking deep into his eyes.

His hand let go of his boxers, giving you full access.

You took that as a sign a pulled them down, revealing his already hard cock, bouncing off his abdomen to meet your gaze.

“Okay Ms ‘I only want to study’. Work your mag-..” before he could finish his sentence, you already started rubbing your thumb against his slit, earning a groan and a lip bite or 2.

After a second of that you finally put your lips against his tip and started to circle your tongue around it, keeping eye contact with Pablo.

“Fuck” he groaned while tilting his head back, keeping a tight grip on the back of your head, though not giving any roughness, letting you take control.

“Tastes s-so good.” You said in between kisses on his tip. Finally after a second of having him wait, you shoved your face in fully, adjusting to his size and gagging around him as you felt him touch your uvula.

“Aww is it too much for you.” He snickered, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as you stayed in one place, his shaft buried deep down your throat.

You nodded quite quickly but beginning to hallow your cheeks and pulling out for air.

“Look at you taking me so well. What a good girl you are.” He said, stroking your cheek, earning a smile from you, giving you more motivation to continue your act on him.

“-f-fuck..I’m gonna cum” he announced a moment later. He tried his hardest to not become needy and dominate, but the pleasure took over making him start to thrust into your mouth and shove your mouth even deeper. Came without warning so you began gagging again, unable to breathe due to how far down he shoved himself down your throat.

A moment later you felt the warm substance fill your mouth, beginning to swallow.

“Shit” he mumbled out of breath. “Open up” he said while lifting your chin.

You stuck your tongue out showing him that you had in fact swallowed and was ready for what was about to come next.

He gave a few tugs at his shaft before letting out some more cum, doing a cum shot all over your face and tongue.

He came in for another kiss, tasting himself all on your tongue before picking you up with your thighs wrapped around his waist.

He took you to the back of the bed and placed you onto his knee, allowing you to grind against something as he recovered from his last high.

You let out a few moans into his mouth, his knee rubbing against your clit. Suddenly, Pablo flipped you over so you were on your back, giving perfect access to do whatever he wanted.

He started from your ears, kissing the lobe and licking the helix before trailing off to your jaw, lips, and down to your neck, leaving hickeys everywhere for tomorrow you to deal with. He started kissing all around until finally finding your sweet spot, sucking and kissing into it causing you to bite your lip in order to conceal your moans.

“Pablo” you whined out as he stopped kissing your neck. He started to go down your body once more, going from your collar, down to the valley of you breasts where he gave a small kiss on your sternum before continuing down and pulling your shorts with it.

You were left in your underwear and socks, your clothes discarded somewhere along with Pablo’s. At this point, you had forgotten all about studying, the only thing you wanted right now was him to be inside of you.

He sat on the bed, back pressed up against the headboard, inviting you straddle him.

You crawled over to him and got got on your knees, right above where Pablo shaft was. You gave it a few tugs and toyed with the tip again. You loved when you got Pablo needy and riled up.

“Sit on it.” He said, grabbing a hold of your shoulders to stop you from moving around.

“As you wish….papi” you winking before moving your underwear to the side and sinking in.

You both gasped at the feeling. You because of the stretch and Pablo because of the tightness.

After a second you began to move, bouncing up and down slowly, gaining pace after each bounce. Each time you went in-and-out, you felt him getting closer and closer to your cervix, making you want pablo to take over.

You felt his hands move to your back, searching for the clasp so he could undo it, wanting for you to be on full display for him.

A second later, your bra came off and Pablo immediately started leaving small nibbles along the nipples.

He pulled you down so your forehead was resting on his as he began to thrust up into you, causing you to moan loudly into the poor boys ears.

He kept abusing you g-spot for a while, making you become paralyzed with pleasure , not wanting the feeling to end.

“I-I’m sooo glad you lost that g-game” you said with a vibrating voice and a couple of gasps in between words.

“I’m so glad you decided to play..” he said, kissing your lips and speeding up.

“Pablo” you moaned, feeling on the edge, almost to the point of cumming.

A moment later you released the knot and came all over Pablo.

“F..fuck your tightening around me so p..perfectly…” and with that you felt Pablo twitch inside of you, followed by the feeling of his cum filling you up to the brim.

You rode out your highs and you collapsed onto Gavi’s chest, the high being a little too good for you to comprehend.

You got off of him and laid down next to him, still catching your breath.

“That was f..fun!” Pablo mumbled while laughing. “Oh and also, I think I broke that promise”

“What promise?” Showing that Pablo fucked the brains out of you.

“The ‘study session’.”

~

A/n

I love this idea because I’ve had this idea ever since like June 2022 and never got around to writing it so here it finally is. In my head the idea sounded good so let’s hope it actually works out 🤞

Btw I’m too tired to do the text coloring rn so I’ll probably get around to that tomorrow (hopefully)

[lyriumcoloredskies]

Written in the Pages pt.2

Pairing: Bakugo x Villain!Reader WC: 2.7k Summary: In which Bakugo finds himself a little too attached to a certain public nuisance, much to the detriment of his own life. pt.1 here CW: slight angst, happy ending, therapy mention, coming to terms with reality AN: UwU the fact that I wrote this in a day is astounding bc ya gorl usual could never

Kirishima stood outside of Bakugo’s high rise apartment, hesitant and unsure of how this would go. He checked his phone to see that both Mina and Midoriya had texted him their ETA. He pocketed the phone and adjusted the case of beers in his other hand to stop the cardboard from digging into his fingers. He was glad to have backup for this and prayed to whatever gods were listening that Bakubro wouldn’t turn away a small “friendly get together”.

He wasn’t dumb, despite all the himbo attributes that tended to be pinned onto him by his rabid fangirls (not that he wasn’t grateful for their almost too enthusiastic support). He certainly wasn’t clueless when it came to his best friend. Kirishima knew Bakugo like the back of his hand. From the angry insecure boy he used to be, to the aloof and pragmatic man he had become. Rarely had they spent a day apart since starting the agency or since UA for that matter.

So it worried Kirishima when Bakugo began to become snippier, especially toward the sidekicks. After a tantrum of yelling and biting insults, he would silently come behind the storm Bakugo left to console the sidekicks letting them know it was nothing personal. He was willing to let Bakugo work through his feelings, these things tended to resolve rather quickly. Despite his rough exterior, Bakugo had gained a fair amount of emotional intelligence as he matured.

To his surprise, that wasn’t the case. More and more frequently Bakugo came in with exhaustion draping over his face, bags deep under his eyes, and his emotions like a bomb on the edge of explosion if the wrong wire was clipped. Most concerning of all was how Bakugo was doing on the field.

Kirishima could tell something was wrong with Bakubro, and Red Riot could tell things were amiss with Dynamight.

He had spent so much time alongside him that he knew every intimate detail of how he fought. Their moves a complex ballroom dance, a waltz for two. The man was sharp and calculated. Bakugo strove to be the best, and that meant he did things with frightening efficiency (if you ignored the massive amount of property damage that came along with his quirk).

But for the last few months his reflexes were lagging, the exhaustion of too many late nights showing, leading to avoidable injuries that seemed to linger for too long.

It wasn’t just him that noticed either. Midoriya had made an impromptu visit to the agency ask if things were okay with the blonde. Kirishima felt guilty to let him know that he had no clue, that the two of them were in the same boat, clueless to Bakugo and his inner turmoil. 

Then a few weeks ago during a get together with the Bakusquad at their favorite izakaya, Mina pulled him aside to ask if things between him and Bakugo were alright. She had suspected Bakugo’s continual reluctance to meet up might have been due to a fight between the two friends. He quickly let her know that it wasn’t the case and that he had been concerned too. It didn’t help that Bakugo was a masterclass in shutting down any discussion of his health, be it physical or mental. Each time Kirishima would pluck up the courage to ask if something was wrong, he was met with a scoff or roll of the eyes.

“I’m fine, drop it.” Bakugo would grit out between clenched teeth. His arms crossed in front of him defensively.

Kirishima knew better than to keep pressing lest he and the sidekicks wanted to deal with a testy Bakugo for the rest of the week. His efforts to try and get him to talk in another setting hadn’t worked either. Bakugo had pointedly been ignoring his texts, Kirishima had been lucky if he was even able to get a one worded reply. Bakugo hadn’t been very active in their group texts either. It seemed like if it wasn’t work, Bakugo didn’t care. Kirishima really tried to be a patient and good friend but at this point he knew it was only a matter of time before something happened. His friend was too exhausted, too hurt, too withdrawn. He knew the consequences of sloppiness of the field, he had witnessed it firsthand.

That was how heroes died.

Kirishima would be damned if this was how his friend would go out. No, Bakugo was a bright star - destined for more than the inky black loneliness he had decided to surround himself in.

Drawing in a breath, he steeled his resolve and knocked.

***

Bakugo walked through the neighborhood, the cold winter air biting his cheeks, staining them a ruddy color. He took in the sights of the street vendors beginning to set up their stalls as the barely peeking sun bathed the world in its soft orange pink light.

He let his mind wander back to the talk he, Kirishima, Deku, and Mina had a few months ago. At first he had felt offended, like an animal cornered and threatened. The hot coals of embarrassment turning into a roaring fire as he lashed out. How humiliating to be confronted by everything he knew was true. He knew his performance as a hero had been suffering, but to see it in front of him in the form of his friend’s concerned faces had been a slap in the face, even then it was no match to Mina’s words about how they were worried he was isolating himself. Those words froze his veins over and settled into permafrost in his chest.

How quickly had he forgotten everything he already had to turn to a siren song? He was so desperate for a love, a touch he never knew, that he was willing to forget everything he already had to plunge into the icy waters of an illusion that would never be.

Bakugo had never been one to do things lightly. His feet continue to carry him as he reminisces of the month it took to overhaul his entire life.

He packed up his romance novels, haphazardly stacking them all into a cardboard box, which he unceremoniously shoved deep under his bed, too far for him to reach. He cleaned his apartment, dusting the blinds and the ceiling fan, collecting the trash from his floors, and scrubbing the dirt off every surface. He even took a rag to the baseboards. Hours of effort would culminate into a sparkling apartment, the sight lifting his mood and settling his soul. He took it as a sign that perhaps - things would be okay.

As he settled into his couch he poured himself a glass of whiskey as a treat for his hard work today. A groan involuntarily left his lips as his joints popped and creaked when he fished his phone out of his pocket. He shot off a quick text to Kirishima, letting him know that he was going to take two weeks off of work, a rarity for him. A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he read through Kirishima's enthusiastic emoji ladden reply encouraging him to take the time to recover. 

Things would be okay.

Knowing he would have to inevitably face this, he texted his PR manager to pawn his social media accounts off to her. It felt like the right step in his detox from his addiction - from you. He took a large sip of the whiskey, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat before pleasantly settling into his stomach. The balmy feeling slowly floating into his veins, helping him feel a little number and a little better for what he had to do.

The hardest had yet to come; he knew he had to delete his account on the writing site. As he logged into his account, he stared at the bookmarks of writings he had collected over the months. Each title brought a smile to his face as he reminisced over the hundreds of lifetimes with you – too many to count, each perfect and special in their own ways - moments of utter intimacy that swept Bakugo off his feet.

Reading the various titles was like a loaded gun, ready to spray his messy emotions out into the world again. Katsuki hesitates, his finger floating over the delete account button. It would be easy to just not do it in order to preserve every memory, the emotions shared, the trials and tribulations you two had been through. He drains the rest of his whiskey and embraces the burn settling into each taste bud.

Bakugo presses the screen of his phone.

The warmth of the alcohol seeps into him as the same time as the tingle of loneliness enters every marrow of his being.

You were gone.

.

.

.

Steadily he began filling his life with the things he loved. For the first time in months he finds himself in his childhood home to visit his mother and father. He takes in the sight of their greying hair, wondering how life had managed to go by so quickly. It had done him some good until the old hag began nagging him about not yet finding a wife.

Bakugo tries his best to ignore the cold tendrils encircling in his heart.

He starts going to his friend's scheduled hangouts again at their favorite izakaya. He would never admit it but Sero and Denki’s jokes and laughter breathe life into his worn self. He ardently denies the furling vines of jealousy from taking root as Kyoka and Momo announce their wedding plans.

He checks in on his classmates and even finds himself back at UA for a charity event. The nostalgia grips his heart as he wanders the same old halls and sees his old teachers. Aizawa-sensei is the same as ever, sleep deprived and utterly done with life, though Bakugo can spy the fondness in his eyes as he looks over his old troublesome students. While mingling, although Mina would disagree and say he was just standing intimidatingly, he finds out that Deku and Cheeks were expecting their first child.

He tries to block out the feeling of the lead in his stomach.

His shitty love life has nothing to do with their happiness so he grunts out a congrats and ignores the dopey lovesick expression on that idiot Deku’s face.

That night at UA reignites his efforts of trying to maintain a normal life and he throws himself into his hobbies. He signs up for a rock climbing gym and then sporadically adopts a small tortie kitten he saves on a total bullshit hero job (he affectionately names her Princess Explosion Murder). He starts cooking with a renewed fervor, trying desperately to ignore that he was cooking for one. He also ignores the weird tight feeling in his chest as he glances at the chair on the other side of his dining table, always empty.

Bakugo thinks he's doing everything right until he's somehow not. He brings it up to his therapist (one that he doesn't want but Kirishima bullied him into getting). That's when his therapist recommends that he “reconnect with himself” by not keeping busy, but rather listening to his "inner feelings". The phrase makes Bakugo quirk an eyebrow and internally decide that therapists are fucking quacks. His therapist bargains with him and asks him to just try it once. "What's the harm?" she says, eyes measured and too analytical for Katsuki's taste. Sure enough, two weeks ago he abandons the plush interior of his BMW and the ever present traffic of downtown Mustafu for the scenic 30 minute walk to his agency. It infuriates him to no ends that his fucking therapist was right. No wonder he paid out the ass for weekly visits. As the days he walks progresses, so does Bakugo. He decides that while the loneliness would probably never leave him, that in the context of the world, he could slowly see himself accepting that things weren’t so bad.

Things would be okay.

.

.

.

Today his feet took him to a familiar path, a back street filled with vendors that would connect to the busy main street that passed by the small café near Mustafu University, where he would pick up a cinnamon latte before taking a left to the office.

A fresh cold breeze made him draw himself closer his jacket, his feet picking up the speed wanting to get out of the bitter cold. Lost in his own thoughts and the beauty of the watercolor sunrise, he didn’t realize he wasn’t paying attention until it was too late. He collided into something solid and it snapped his attention back to reality. The soft feminine gasp accompanying a not so feminine “fuck” made him look down. He saw papers scattered, escaping a tote bag with the Froppy logo, tilting his chin down a little further he could see the shine of spilled coffee all over his camo green Canada Goose jacket. Without even knowing it his mouth bent down into a scowl. The person who bumped into him seemed fine, just a little shaken up. He knows the polite thing to do is offer a hand and tell the stranger that it was no problem, the jacket is waterproof after all, but after 2 seconds of soul searching he decided that he didn’t give enough of a fuck to be nice. He opened his mouth to release his scathing remarks to the clumsy fuckwad who ran into him until he caught sight of something that skyrocketed his pulse. His mouth dried and he felt his heart drum in his ears.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry” you said as you shakily stood up, akin to a fawn.

You reached into your jacket, fishing out crumpled napkins to help sop up the mess on his expensive jacket. He stood in silence not sure if this was an amalgamation of his own sick mind, because how many times had he imagined exactly this?

“I’m so sorry I should have been more careful!” you profusely apologize, refusing to meet Bakugo’s eyes out of embarrassment.

Bakugo takes in every detail. It was everything he remembers. Your soft bouncy hair, the floral smell (lilacs he commits to memory) of your shampoo wafting to him as you stood entirely too close to him. Though you're bundled in a winter jacket, he can make out the distinct shape of your body that had him in a chokehold for months. The skin of your hands shines, its clear that you managed to also drenched in yourself in coffee. Your hands shake as the liquid on your skin settles into a chill that penetrates your bones.

Katsuki trembles, his fist clenches in his pockets, desperately trying to ground himself. He can feel the cold winter air, he can smell the spilt coffee, and he can hear the rustle of the napkin over his jacket. This is all real.

You continue your efforts to clean Bakugo’s jacket until he places his warm hands over yours. He relishes in it, despite the temperature difference, he can tell your skin is soft and smooth. Your hands are tiny in his and he drinks up the sight, his pulse racing. His actions seem to surprise you as your head darts up, catching his brilliant vermillion eyes, like the prettiest sunrise you had ever seen. Your breath catches in your throat as the two of you stare at each other, locked in a stalemate.

“I’m sorry” you whisper, Bakugo savors the way your words escape you, the heat of your words brought to life by the winter air. Your lips are as beautiful and kissable as he remembers.

His eyes search yours for an answer, any indication that, somehow this isn’t all just in his mind- that you aren’t just an off duty villain surprised to bump into an off duty hero - that some part of what he wanted was something you wanted too.

“Let-” Bakugo rasps out, his words catching in his dry throat, “Let me buy you another coffee.”.

A beat passes between the both of you.

“Yes”, you reply breathless and airy as if anything more would break the magic spell between you two.

“I’d love that.”

[babytarttdoodoo]

in the end everything collides

((Winner of Whumptober Poll #2 | Day 6 | Made To Watch)) 

The whole evening had taken such a blindingly bizarre turn that even with the sound of fists meeting flesh and hysterical giggling filling his ears, Sam couldn’t process what he was seeing.

It had started out normally enough. He had been finishing some paperwork at Ola’s after closing, something he had been doing more and more of in the off-season to take at least a little pressure away from Simi.

He had been having fun, even, thanks to Jamie’s unrelenting commentary on anything and everything that popped into his head. His teammate had dropped in for a late dinner and hung around long after closing to keep Sam company when he learned of his plans.

The offer had been gratefully received and only curdled to regret when Edwin Akufo strode in like he owned the place.

His competing restaurant was not faring well, apparently, and that was obviously entirely Sam’s fault. How dare he have competent staff and a talented head chef?

Sam had sighed inwardly when Edwin’s security goons had spread out around the restaurant, gauging how much egotistical posturing and property damage he would likely have to put up with before being left alone again.

He hadn’t really considered what would happen if he fought back because he had no intention of doing so. Jamie, on the other hand, swung first.

Of course he did.

To his credit, he landed more than one solid hit before a bodyguard got hold of his arms and twisted them behind his back. Edwin had teetered between incredulity and rage for only a few moments before manic glee stole over his face.

It was not a good look on him.

“Let him go, Edwin, he doesn’t…” Sam barely started voicing his protests before he was grabbed too, held in place at the silent order of the billionaire, flicking a hand in Sam’s direction like he was an unimportant nuisance. Forgotten in the wake of this new entertainment.

“Ah, ah, what do we have here? Who are you to jump to Obisanya’s defence, hm? Another nobody with delusions of grandeur from kicking a ball?”

Jamie’s face screwed up to one side and Sam’s heart sank.

“Eh, ain’t nothing delusional about my ball-kicking, mate. Get a bit closer and I’ll show you.”

Edwin threw his head back and laughed, loudly. It was wildly out of place in the tense atmosphere and deeply unsettled something in Sam’s gut when he abruptly cut off.

“I do not think so, Obisanya’s friend. But Curtis here is more than happy to get up close and personal.”

‘Curtis’ was well over six feet tall and at least half as wide. Like all of Edwin’s cronies, he was dressed in a fine suit, though the addition of several bulky rings on his fingers seemed unique to him.

“Edwin, please,” Sam tried again, panic and desperation making his voice thin and reedy. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I do not have to do anything,” Edwin crowed, rocking back on his heels, delighting in Sam’s obvious distress. “I choose to do this, just like you chose to so rudely turn down my very generous offer. And your friend here chose to interfere. These are consequences, Sam Obisanya. A lesson for you both to learn.”

Sam pulled helplessly on the arms holding him firmly in place as Curtis cracked his knuckles and advanced on Jamie. The footballer was waiting with a smirk and raised brow.

“Am I supposed to be scared, like?”

The first blow snapped his head to the side. Sam cried out as if it had been meant for him.

Jamie just laughed, licking blood from his lip as he casually straightened up again. “C’mon, put your back into it, lad.”

The second hit slammed into his jaw, sending his skull backwards with such force that the man holding him barely avoided a broken nose.

Jamie took slightly longer to recover, head lolling forward for a moment before he looked up with bloody teeth. “You wanna really swing your hips, mate. Get a bit more momentum.”

The next punch sank into his stomach, forcing a pained grunt out of his mouth along with any air he had in his lungs. He coughed, gasping, and started to laugh again.

“My old man hits harder than that and he can barely piss standing up half the time.”

Curtis glanced back at Edwin with a raised eyebrow, clearly unsettled by his lack of impact on Jamie’s confidence. If they were waiting for him to back down, Sam realised, they would be here all night.

That was not a pleasant thought.

“What are you looking at me for? He told you to hit harder!” Edwin pointed out, annoyed but also eying Jamie’s grinning, manic face warily.

Sam couldn’t say how long it went on for; Curtis continued hitting Jamie and Jamie just kept up a running commentary, getting more and more delirious as it ran on.

There was a horror to it. A numb, dreadful feeling in Sam’s chest as he shouted and pleaded himself hoarse but the violence didn’t stop.

Until it did.

All of a sudden, Edwin flicked his hand again, a deep frown on his face that Sam had no mind to be concerned about. Both he and Jamie were released unceremoniously and he was moving to catch his friend before any other thought had time to form.

Jamie slumped into him, knees given out, still mumbling obscenities and casting aspersions about Curtis’ mother.

Edwin observed them both, making no move to stop Sam from grabbing a nearby chair.

“Your friend is clearly disturbed. You should get him psychological help.”

Sam barely acknowledged him, too preoccupied with holding Jamie up to dignify that with a witty response. The billionaire straightened his jacket with a scoff and beckoned to his entourage.

As quickly as the intrusion had sent the night to absolute hell, they were left alone again. Or, almost alone.

“Francis, I am not in the mood right now,” Sam warned the hovering man when he didn’t seem to be moving on.

“That is fair.” The evening’s events had rocked him so deeply that Sam couldn’t even summon surprise at hearing the handshake aficionado's voice for the first time. “Mr Akufo is leaving the country tomorrow. He is closing his restaurant. This… It is unlikely we will meet again.”

Francis cleared his throat, looking awkwardly out of character from his usual cool, collected demeanour. Not a violent man, Sam realised.

“Goodbye then. You can let yourself out.”

He gave Sam a firm nod, Jamie a lingering look, and did so, leaving them in peace at last.

“Jamie, are you familiar with the concept of self-preservation? At all?” Sam asked urgently, trying to judge how unfocused his eyes were. “Why did you do that?”

“I���m the only one who gets to be a prick to you,” Jamie slurred, struggling to keep upright. “‘Sides, he really didn’t hit that hard.”

Sam was justified, he thought, in finally letting himself cry.

[bubble-popping]

okay this is kinda embarrassing bc i meant to post this a long time ago and just... Didn't.

More dnb gods au bc them <3

Truthfully, Techno didn't know why he stood here, hand hovering above the wood of a door. Even less did he understand why he felt so nervous about going in. The words 'Dream's Study' felt like a permanent 'do not disturb' sign. He knew how much he hated to be interrupted when he worked, especially for trivial matters such as a minor headache. Techno hadn't seen Dream for a while, and it was showing with how Chat nagged and clawed at his brain. He wasn't quite at the stage of attacking his dearest friends and causing major property damage because of their volume and relentlessness, but Dream had asked--pleaded, to be more precise--for him to visit before it got to that point. So, here he stood, trying to think of how to phrase his current predicament without sounding like a total loser. And Chat was not helping.

just knock?

man's forgot how to knock

bro forgor

E

E

average dork in love behavior

no u guys don't get it he's so normal about dream i promise

social anxiety L

L

LOL

L

L

"How do you nerds even know half those phrases? I don't say anythin' like that-" Before he knew it, the sound of squeaks and chirps emitted from behind the door. The Blobs' heightened senses never ceased to amaze him.

"What? Techno's outside? How-OW!"

Techno startled upon hearing the exclamation accompanied by a thud and finally kicked himself into gear, opening the door and peeking inside to see Dream standing up from behind his desk, cradling his horns and uttering more hisses of pain. "Dream? You alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine! Jus' bumped my head is all. I'm alright." The blond waved off his concern as he sank into his chair. "Is something up? Chat being loud again?"

The piglin god decided to step further into the room. He'd gone this far, might as well go the full mile. "Well, not at the moment now that you're, ya know, talkin'."

"Aw, they just missed me, huh?" Dream rested his head in his hand, smile smug and eyes scrunched.

YES

DREAM

DREAM POG

simps. every single one of you. me too.

GUYS SHUT UP I CAN'T FOCUS ON HIS PRETTY

pretty dreamie :)

WE AGREED ON DAYDREAM FOR THE NICKNAME IDOIT

**idiot lol

lol

LOL

Lol

LOL

"I didn't say all that. Don't get ahead of yourself, teletubby." As if Techno's absolutely scathing remark wasn't enough of a blow to the man's ego, several Blobs then decided it was their special moment to shine as they dropped down on Techno chirping and cooing not too unlike Phil's crows. He glanced up to see many more piled on a hammock above his head. The majority still soundly slept. Techno could only imagine what it'd look like if they were all awake.

"Hey! What have I told you guys about personal space?" Dream promptly stood from his chair and came over to brush the little Blobs off, a bright gold strong as sunshine glowing on his cheeks. It really didn't match the stern expression he was trying to show. "I'm so sorry about them. We're still working on that..." He didn't meet Techno's eyes as his hands swiped across his shoulders. Not even when he reached further up, lifting on the tips of his toes to pluck away the ones that had settled in his hair.

"They're not so bad. At least they're cute. Chat is just plain annoyin'," Techno grumbled.

WE'RE RIGHT HERE YA KNOW

techno hates us y'all

we're literally fixing your love life?

so ungrateful

Dream giggled softly, shaking his head. Only then did he meet Techno's gaze. "Chat isn't bad either. It's just like the Blobs, they're excitable. I think Chat's cool."

dream gets us y'all

omg he's looking at us guys

HE'S THINKS WE'RE COOL

i hope he wins the custody battle in the divorce

they aren't even married yet

praying on their downfall already is crazy

SHUT UP HE'S STILL TALKIMG

he stopped tho?

**talking

LOL

LOL

L

L

L

Techno pressed a hand to his temple, face twisting in discomfort. "You don't have to hear 'em all the time..."

Dream offered a sympathetic smile before he seemed to get an idea. "Would you like to rest with me while I fulfill some dream requests?"

"I don't wanna bother ya if you're workin'-"

"You wouldn't be a bother, ya big idiot. C'mon, I could use the company." He smiled sweetly, taking Techno by the arm with pretty green eyes begging from under long blond lashes. Naturally, Techno let himself be dragged away--but he still wasn't a simp, Chat, shut up--to a different corner of the office: an area that closely resembled a pillow fort.

Techno really had to duck down to enter it, clearly not built for a god his size. Inside was more spacious than it initially appeared. Made of many different colors and shapes of cushions, all draped with soft blankets, and partially bordered by the lower shelves of a bookcase. Dream easily found a spot to lay down, propped up and facing the curtain canopy. Techno squeezed against the nearest wall out of consideration for Dream's space, but regardless only managed a gap of mere inches. He too looked up, and when he did, he swore that nothing was above them at all. Tiny lights were strategically placed to emulate the night sky. Techno could even see certain constellations in the pattern.

"How did...?"

"Oh, some Blobs got into my glowstone dust by accident and they reminded me of stars, so I got this idea." And Techno believed him because when he squinted he saw, as his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting, many tiny Blobs hanging by thin threads with the proudest grins on their faces.

"Of course..." He huffed, smirking and shaking his head.

A comfortable silence succeeded his words, covering the pair in a particular kind of blanket. The kind that had Techno curiously glancing over to see Dream concentrating on a cloud held aloft by the green strings connected to his fingers.

"What's that one? If ya don't mind me askin'."

"Hm? Oh, well, usually I don't share other people's dreams. They're personal things, meant for your mind alone. But..." Dream got a small, almost mischievous smile on his face. "This one here is for one of my regulars."

"Regulars?"

"Mhm. I think she prays almost every night, always for the same thing. She's an old woman and recently her wife of almost 60 years passed away from an unfortunate accident. Do you know what she asks to dream of?"

Techno couldn't imagine knowing that much about a mortal. But then again, all those that prayed to him usually didn't live very long, so he supposed he just never got the chance to.

"What?"

"She just wants to speak with her again. Nothing else matters, except that she's there. They talk about so many things. Sometimes, they don't speak at all. Just sit there next to each other, enjoying the company. I've put them in all sorts of places. Relaxing on a beach, watching a fireworks display from afar, sitting on their rocking chairs in their living room..." He'd finished crafting the dream by then, offering it to one of the Blobs who devoured the cloud whole and promptly wiggled into the crevice of two pillows. Afterwards, he folded his hands atop his stomach and closed his eyes, smiling wistfully. "Such a sweet, pure love... I only hope someone will love me like that."

A heat unlike any other instantly filled Techno's cheeks.

ASDFGHJKL HE'S LITERALLY ASKING FOR IT

LET'S GOOO

KISS HIM YOU IDIOT

how did that guy make that sound

KISS

KISS

KISS

L matchmakers fr

wdym we're such W matchmakers

yeah he boutta get that sheep pus-

Techno quickly sat up from the comfortable pile onto his elbow, resolutely pushing that thought out of his head.

"Techno?" Dream looked to him, gaze wide and inquisitive. The piglin god turned to stare down at him, and though he knew he had to say something that might finally shut Chat up about this, the words got caught in his throat. Green eyes were simply too pretty, surrounded by freckles and waves of golden blond. A hand surprised him out of his admiring. Gentle fingers pushed the hair that had fallen into Techno's face behind his pointed ear then came to a rest at his cheek. "Something wrong?"

"No," he answered with a shake of his head, placing his hand upon Dream's and leaning into the touch. It still didn't make a lot of sense to him, why Dream was so tender towards him despite his reputation and prowess... Or, perhaps, because of it? Techno cherished it all the same. "Nothin's wrong. 'm just... 'm not sure how to, how to word-"

"Tech," the sheep god murmured, now cupping both of Techno's cheeks and wearing a bittersweet smile, "you don't have to force yourself. I was just thinking out loud. I wasn't trying to-"

"It's not that, I mean, well, it is, but-" He sighed, closing his eyes to collect himself before opening them with a renewed determination. "I get what you're sayin' and I feel the same way."

"You do?"

"Ya think I'd come just to make Chat shut up? That's just a sweet bonus, dude."

Dream giggled, a similar blush rising on his face. "So, what does that mean?"

"It means I... would really like to kiss ya, if you'll let me."

The blush immediately brightened to a shimmering gold. He pushed himself to a sit as well, closing the gap between them to barely a few inches. "I think I'd like that."

They both leaned in, heads tilting to accommodate the other, but when Techno connected with something, he knew it was not Dream's lips. A Blob had managed to slip in at the last second, squeaking happily. The two pulled back in equal astonishment, allowing the Blob to drop on Dream's lap.

Dream's expression rapidly soured. "You little-!" He snatched the Blob up, gripping its little body in a tight grasp. "That's it. You're all going in timeout now." With a snap of his fingers, all the Blobs including the ones that hung from the ceiling exploded into puffs of clouds, leaving the two in near total darkness aside from Dream's glowing eyes. "Much better. Now..." Hands suddenly grabbed Techno by the shoulders and twisted them so he was flat on his back and Dream was straddling his waist. His voice lowered to a whisper as he leaned in once again, bright green illuminating both their faces. "Where were we?"

[artzychic27]

So, with the new special coming up with Shadybug and Claw Noir, I’ve gotta ask, what are Scarlet Beetle, Ikati Black, Monarch, and Prince Paon’s alternate selves like?

Blood Beetle

Cold, calculated, greedy, and just a little bit flirty with his “Kitten.”

He works out so he’s stronger than his opponents and can easily snap them like twigs

This guy does NOT care about the lives of innocents, as long as he’s got the cash and jewels he stole, then he’s fine

Will not hesitate to put people in danger if it means getting his way, and makes people BEG him on their knees to use his Miracle Cure…

… Only to not use it

And quick thing to remember: Unless you have a death wish, never try to flirt with Ikati Bleak

When he’s not Blood Beetle, Kim is tormenting people at DuPont Dormitory For Wayward Teens for cash and breaking every PDA rule with Max

He was sent to DuPont for attacking just about anyone who looked at him funny

“Kitten~ Steal that gem for me, would you, baby?”

“Ugh! It’s not my fault this light weight can’t take a punch!”

“Come on… Beg me, and maybe I’ll fix your shit city.”

Ikati Bleak

Ikati Bleak is extremely smart and knows how to get in your head. Never trust him

He’s the brains behind every robbery committed by himself and his “Blood Bug.”

He can easily hack into the government and cause all sorts of mass destruction with the push of a button if civilians step out of line

Like Blood Beetle, he doesn’t care about the lives of other people, seeing them as only stepping stones in their path towards total domination

Whatever Blood Beetle desires, he is more than happy to do whatever it takes to make him happy

Enjoys using his cataclysm on famous landmarks and important artifacts

As Max, he’s deceitful, gets a thrill out of using his intellect against others, and uses his tech skills to torment the student body

Max was sent to DuPont for hacking into the grade books and ruining everyone’s GPAs just for the hell of it

“Whatever my Blood Bug wants, he gets.”

“Ruining lives is just no fun when they don’t cry.”

“One little button. That’s all it takes to see your city turn to dust.”

Emperor

One word… Insane

Emperor has no goal other than to cause mass chaos and make all who stand before him kneel at his feet

He turns people into Akumas against their will and uses psychological and/or emotional torture to make them comply

He forces them to steal, cause property damage, and attack a few people he doesn’t like

He only has a soft spot for Prince Pain and will drop everything to just kiss his hand

As Nathaniel, he’s just as unhinged as Emperor. People would say he has a Napoleon Complex, but the last person to say that mysteriously fell down the stairs

Note: Nathaniel hates it when people even imply that he’s inferior

Those at his last school were relieved when the School Tyrant finally left

“Princey, allow me torment this undesirable for you, darling.”

“Aw~ Why so serious? And here I thought we were having so much fun.”

“Oh, I have ways of making you comply, dear.”

Prince Pain

He’s every bit of crazy as Emperor, but braver. He’s jumped off the top of the Eiffel Tower and landed on the back of a winged Senticreature

This guy only has a soft spot for Emperor and his babies

He can’t bear to part with them, so he lets them run around Paris, destroying everything in sight on a weekly basis

He’d never send an Amok after a civilian, becuase then they can turn his Senticreature against him!

He’s got the personality of Evil!Spinel with a bit of Harley Quinn mixed in there, always clapping and laughing when someone gets hurt

He will follow Emperor to the ends of the earth for no reason other than to cause chaos with him

Marc was sent to DuPont because there was no mental facility that would take him

“Hear that, babies? Other daddy is proud of you, my little weapons of mass destruction!”

“Voices in my head say I’m perfectly normal like any other person.”

“I don’t like the words your saying… Do you need your tongue removed?”

[dearcat1]

Entertainment Purposes

Part 2 of Nana's Son

So calling the boss dense to his face wasn't Squalo's best idea. Doesn't make it any less true, however. In front of him, Lussuria clicks his tongue in that annoying mothering way he has. "Where does it hurt, Squ-darling?"

Fuck those stupid nicknames too, Squalo thinks sourly. He gestures at himself in wordless reply and gingerly sits down on the cot. "So you know how the boss and Sawada are dating?"

Lussuria arches a brow, looking at him with a decent amount of judgment. Fair enough. "Squ, they've been together for over a year already."

"I know that," Squalo snaps, wincing when the Sun digs his fingers in already bruised flesh. "You know that. Apparently, they don't know that." 

"That can't be right," Lussuria shakes his head but Squalo can see the beginnings of exasperation in his face. "They sleep together."

Squalo's palm shoots up to cover his eyes. "I know. How is this happening to us?"

"Are you sure you didn't misunderstand?" Lussuria wonders, fingers light like feathers as his flames sink under Squalo's skin.

"Yes!" Squalo moves, ready to start pacing but one look at the medic's face has him stilling. "I confronted him about putting me in charge of his date night reservations and shit," he waves away Lussuria's disapproving look. "It's not my job, I'm not his babysitter! Anyway, I confronted him about it but he was just confused. Kept insisting that Sawada and he are just working together. That things are this way only because it makes it more convenient." 

"And our little Tsuna? How did he react?"

"You know how Sawada is before midday, I'm not sure he even knows what was happening or what the boss fed him." Which is great for Sawada because the boss is the worst cook Squalo has ever met. But before midday Sawada will eat those concoctions without even a blink. By now, there are poisons out there that will have no effect on the brat. "What are we going to do?"

"Do?" Lussuria arches a brow. "It's their relationship, that's for them to figure out."

"You just want the entertainment value," Squalo sighs but he's not opposed to it. "Fine. Now that I've confronted him with it, I'll give the boss maybe two months to figure it out. One for freaking out and then another to muster the courage to confront Sawada. You?"

"Squ," Lussuria shakes his head. "Six months to a year for the boss to figure it out. And once he does he's going to fish out our little Tsuna from wherever he is, there's going to be a lot of property damage but they'll figure it out."

"Six months to a year is too long a gap," Squalo grunts, already fishing out his wallet. "You know better."

Lussuria snorts. "Fine, darling, a year." He writes down his bet on the little slip of paper Squalo offers him and carefully tucks it back inside the swordsman's wallet. "Should I ask the others or will you?"

"I'll do it," Squalo decides because those two deserve the embarrassment.