#I genuinely thought they were at least mixed the first time I watched

[grilledcheese-savage]

High Guardian Spice Re-designs for Rosemary and Sage.

I actually have a re-write of this entire show on my google docs that I’m thissss close to making a comic series. I’m still ehhh on Sage’s outfit but idk. I think they’re cute.

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 , various !

synopsis: his voice lines about you as his beloved partner

including: veritas, jing yuan, blade

side comments: dw i promise i'm working on the house of musica requests... i just wanted to do this for fun! also this is the first time I've written for jing yuan which is kinda funny. i liked writing for blade again. originally i had welt and aventurine in the mix but i wanted to post this hahaha.

extra: gn reader, angsty and fluffy moments, mentions of marriage, aventurine jumpscare later favourites: blade word count: roughly 2,085+

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

WHO ARE THEY? I "So you're asking about my significant other? Are you shocked that I have a significant other? At the very least consider your question."

FIRST MEETINGS? "I met Professor ( Name ) when they barged into my lecture, they said they were 'lost'. Since then we had several heated debates academically. Have I lost in these debates? Several times yes, consequently making debating with them all the more... interesting. Especially considering that Professor ( Name ) has a well-rounded vault of knowledge in most subjects of academic and social relevance. Finally, a conversation worth my time.

GREETINGS? "Professor ( Name ) considers a good greeting the highest attribute. A curt smile and a cup of coffee suffice, thankfully they know when to remain silent. However, there are instances when they will talk relentlessly. Initially, I used my headpiece around them. Nevertheless, their conversations do occasionally convey subtle insightfulness and definite meaning. Gradually I have come to share some liking towards their rather pleasant 'small talk'."

PARTINGS? "A small kiss on the cheek: be it on my skin or the headpiece, that is all. However, I... have always preferred it on the skin."

ABOUT US: ART "Outside of ( Name's ) academic career, they share a peculiar fondness for art. Be it painting or sculptures they could very well get lost in a museum. When they discovered my fondness for sculptures and anatomy, they were... oddly quiet; tracing their hands over my sculptures- or my face to be exact. ( Name's ) admiration is always shown in silence, one of the greatest forms of praise.

ABOUT US: TRUE APPEARANCES "I have questioned how ( Name ) has perceived our relationship. Considering that we are both colleagues, it can lead to speculation amongst other *sighs* inappropriate comments. Hence, I prefer to keep our relationship known only to those who need to. I believe them to be devout and... undoubtedly caring. I hope my attitude towards them conveys a similar message.

CHAT: WORK "Although we teach different subjects, we occasionally mark or review the work of our students. You may call it a 'second opinion'. Thus, their opinion is one that I trust."

CHAT: SERVICE "( Name's ) actions can initially appear simple-minded. However, underneath simplicity, lies thoughtfulness beyond comparison in both work... and at our residence.

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Film is not an art I deliberately take part in or seek out for leisure. However, ( Name ) was quite adamant and passionate about film. Thus, we've watched a myriad amount of films and TV shows together, both acclaimed and disdained. I have my own varying opinions. I must admit, after a long bath, a film in bed is quite soothing. Considering that ( Name ) similarly enjoys the pleasure of a bath, our nighttime routine is undoubtedly satisfying."

ARGUMENTS: "One must always think before they speak for there is a price to pay. ( Name's ) silence is decisive, deliberate and painful; burning right through your chest. Debates are loud, quarrels are bitterly silent."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: "Solitude is the greatest gift to civilization and self: introspection enlarges the expanse of the mind. However, the pursuit of knowledge is not only found in discovery and text. It is through experience alone. I have found much knowledge in solitude and an equal amount through genuine companionship. Hence, I share my deepest revere. "

WHO ARE THEY? II "My lover. That is who they are to me and all you need to know."

EXTRA: AVENTURINE'S OPINION "I met Ratio's lover when I visited for business matters. But, all that went out of the door! I saw a lovely individual by his desk and thought, 'Who is this?' Ratio never, and I mean never, allows anyone to screw his desk up. Yet, here they were, seated at the edge of his desk toying with his stupid chalk greeting me with a bright smile. We immediately hit off. I suppose Ratio does have some luck in him, but then again, ( Name ) was the one who first asked him out. Less to do with luck, and more to do with destiny. In my opinion, destiny is not something I fully believe in, however, when I watch Ratio and ( Name ), it's difficult to imagine a universe where they aren't together."

𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍

WHO ARE THEY? I "You are looking for Commander ( Name )? Sadly they're on a business trip, however, I'd be happy to answer in their place."

FIRST MEETINGS? "( Name ) is an interesting soul. I've heard of their praised skills in combat and decisive thinking. Many assume I met them on the battlefield. Yet, I met them over a coincidental cup of tea."

GREETINGS? “I find it amusing how our everyday greetings have evolved. At first it was a salute. However, I find that a kiss on the cheek is a much more efficient way of greeting and brightening up the mundane tasks *sighs* of work.”

PARTINGS? “Why bid farewell when one hasn’t said hello? Partings have always been bitter. Yet, I find comfort in knowing that all things lead back from whence they came.”

ABOUT US: AGE “Time for long life species is fickle and plainly slow. Despite that, ( Name ) has constantly made time— less daunting and more fun. ( Name’s ) life span… is a touch shorter than that of myself. Hence, they have brought forth a new value in every passing year to which I cherish. This year I plan on doing something special for their birthday— though, don’t tell them that.”

ABOUT US: SILENCE "As much as ( Name ) glows in social settings, they equally enjoy stillness, if not more. There never is any obligation to fill the void when we're together. It is as natural of an act as breathing.

CHAT: PRODUCTIVITY "( Name ) likes to be on task. I, however, don't always find leisure in such activities. ( Name ) quote, 'holds me accountable'. Of course, there are moments in which I can distract them."

CHAT: FELINES "They are quite fond of Mimi. Unfortunately, Mimi is rather... aggressive when around ( Name ) and has been for a considerable amount of time. One time ( Name ) was attempting to bargain with Mimi for her favour. *Chuckles* What a sight.

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Master Diviner Fu Xuan would frown upon it... but I suppose napping on the Seat of Divine Foresight is considered a 'pastime' when done regularly enough."

ARGUMENTS: "I do not attempt to quell the frustrations of my dearest. It is not often they disclose them to me and it does pain me to be the cause of their anger. Nevertheless, if it means the two of us will grow closer, then I will gladly offer myself to the brute force of my dearest. Of course, the swelling of regret still stains the heart."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: I've lived one life yet many all at once. Companions scattered amongst the universe and enemies whose names I've gradually forgotten. Yet, underneath the breath of my dearest, I'm simply a man in his spouse's embrace. Nothing else matters."

WHO ARE THEY? II "My most loving spouse."

EXTRA: FU XUAN'S OPINION "When Commander ( Name ) came into the Seat of Divine Foresight to help the General... he grew all the more 'lazy'. A part of me feels sympathetic towards Commander ( Name ), imagine having your own spouse bully you into doing your work? Alas, it's not my business to speak about their marital life. Besides, the two go hand in hand, like a puzzle piece clicking together. Both can do well without, but when joined together, they are a force to be reckoned with."

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄

WHO ARE THEY? I "Their weapon may be thin, but it pierces holes even in the most... stubborn of enemies."

FIRST MEETINGS? "Elio's script is always followed. However, ( Name ) is a detail I did not anticipate or was foretold. My body met the tip of their spear before I saw their face."

GREETINGS? "Over time ( Name ) has grown close to the Stellaron Hunters- especially Kafka. Their presence is imminent despite not being a Stellaron Hunter themselves. ( Name ) smiles whenever we meet, it has always been more than enough."

PARTINGS? "My promised end will come, yet an absurd inkling of regret remains."

ABOUT US: THE BLADE "( Name ) believes the blade to be a form of art. They had said, 'The blade dances in air with undisturbed poise and precision, a kind of mercy not known to themselves.' I asked them why they chose a spear then. They replied, 'Because I could never dare replicate it's beauty.'"

ABOUT US: WOUNDS "( Name ) never wanted to be a traveller, rather, they opted to string fabrics together with a needle and thread. Perhaps that is where their skills come from."

CHAT: MIDNIGHT "The mara is like a ghost. Yet, ( Name ) is a fool. They embrace the ghost I can't seem to remember other than its bottomless spite and fear."

CHAT: SCARS "Their hands never 'keep to themselves'. ( Name ) prefers to trace their hands over surfaces and make shapes. They tend to draw stars... so many stars."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "When there are no missions, we sleep in silence. Under the guise of sleep and their warmth, immortality does not follow me."

ARGUMENTS: "When all is said and done, silence remains."

SOMTHING TO SHARE: "If there is life after death, then I wish to meet them in the same manner, again and again with that smile and spear."

WHO ARE THEY II? "The person who taught me how to breathe and pressed their lips against my skin."

EXTRA: KAFKA'S OPINION "Blade will never admit it. But, ( Name ) cares for Blade and Blade does too. The pair will never put a name to the push and pull between them. I caught Bladie once; staring out into the open universe searching for something with a spark of life that doesn't belong to a dead body. I wonder if ( Name ) put that there."

masterlist.

[sunrenity]

ANYTHING FOR YOU  、NRK

ㅤ୨ৎㅤwhenever you're with riki, all of your fears disappear.

nishimura rikiㅤ✶ㅤfemale readerㅤ ｡｡｡ ㅤest relationship, fluffㅤⓘㅤreader hates riding bikesㅤwcㅤ759ㅤℬookshelfㅤzehra's note.ㅤi have no idea how i ended up talking about ducks but here we are 🤷‍♀️.

you hated bikes. the mere thought of balancing on two wheels, feeling the wind whip past you, and the potential for a hard fall was enough to make your stomach churn. you remembered the time when you were a kid, and you tried riding a bike without training wheels for the first time. it didn't end well, to say the least.

the scrape on your knee took weeks to heal, and the fear took even longer to fade. yet here you were, standing beside nishimura riki, your boyfriend, as he wheeled his shiny black bike out of the garage, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"come on, y/n," riki urged, his voice a mix of persuasion and reassurance. "i promise, you'll be safe with me."

you bit your lip, the apprehension clear on your face. "riki, you know how i feel about bikes. i don't think i can do this."

he walked over to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "i know you're scared. but trust me, okay? i want to take you somewhere special. just hold on tight, and i won't let anything happen to you."

you looked into his eyes, those deep, comforting eyes that always seemed to melt away your fears. with a heavy sigh, you nodded. "okay, i'll do it. but if i fall, you're carrying me the rest of the way."

riki laughed, a sound that warmed your heart. "deal."

he helped you onto the bike, his hands steadying you as you climbed on behind him. you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding on tightly as he kicked off and started pedaling. the bike wobbled slightly at first, and you felt your heart leap into your throat. but riki's steady presence was reassuring, and you found yourself relaxing just a little.

"see? not so bad, right?" he called back over his shoulder.

you managed a shaky laugh. "if you say so."

as you rode through the quiet streets, you could feel the tension slowly leaving your body. the rhythmic motion of the bike, combined with the warmth of riki's back against your chest, was strangely soothing. he steered with confidence, his movements fluid and sure. it was clear that he knew what he was doing, and that knowledge helped to ease your fears.

"where are we going, anyway?" you asked, curiosity starting to replace your anxiety.

"it's a surprise," riki replied, his tone teasing. "but i promise it's worth it."

you sighed, resting your head against his back. despite your initial reluctance, there was something undeniably exhilarating about this experience. the world seemed to blur past you in a whirl of colors and sounds, and you felt a sense of freedom that you hadn't expected.

after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, riki slowed down and turned onto a narrow path that led into a small, secluded park. he stopped the bike and helped you dismount, his hands lingering on your waist for a moment longer than necessary.

"we're here," he said, a proud smile on his face.

you looked around, taking in the serene beauty of the park. there was a small pond in the center, its surface shimmering in the late afternoon sunlight. tall trees surrounded the area, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. it was a peaceful, idyllic spot, and you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

but what really caught your attention were the ducks swimming in the pond. they glided gracefully across the water, their small, feathery bodies creating gentle ripples. you watched them, entranced by their peaceful movements. riki must have noticed your fascination because he nudged you playfully.

"you like the ducks, huh?" he teased, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "should i get you one for a pet?"

you laughed, shaking your head. "you would do that for me? steal a duck for me?"

riki's eyes widened, and he looked genuinely panicked for a moment. "wait, i didn't mean—"

you laughed even harder, cutting him off. "relax, riki! i'm kidding. i don't actually want you to steal a duck."

riki exhaled in relief, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "good. i was worried for a second there. stealing a duck is definitely not on my to-do list."

you leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of his arm around your shoulders. "well, even if you did, it would be kinda cute."

he chuckled, pulling you closer. "i guess anything for you, but let's stick to visiting the ducks here. much easier and less illegal."

PERM TLㅤ ✦ㅤ @en-gelic @nishislcve @jakesprincess1 @ivsjake4evr @flwrstqr

[lordprettyflackotara]

party monster || fred weasley

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. TW: partying, drug usage (cocaine guys), fred’s ooc sorry not sorry, paranoia, etc. just overall v mature themes. OBVIOUSLY DO NOT DO COCAINE. this has a lot of plot ;)

Fred Weasley was never one to turn down an invitation to a party. Especially not one from Mattheo Riddle, to a Slytherin party.

Fred had felt like he had seen it all. He had watched the Hufflepuffs get giggly over champagne, Gryffindors try muggle grass for the first time, and Ravenclaws make tame mixed drinks that sent their minds into oblivion.

Slytherin’s on the other hand, went as hard as Fred liked. Of course muggle grass and alcohol was provided. The usual sex addicts were on the prowl for someone new to warm their bed. But what Fred enjoyed about the Slytherins the most, was their lack of fear to try muggle substances.

The most recent substance the most fearless had been trying was cocaine.

George refused to attend Slytherin parties, frowning upon the houses entirety. Truthfully Fred used to be the same way, until Mattheo offered him his first joint. The dark lords son had introduced him to an entire new world of highs, ones that Fred couldn’t find anywhere else.

For the past year the core Slytherins had been trying different pills, ones Theodore had been smuggling from a muggle born Hufflepuff who was naive enough to think they were being used for medical purposes. Fred had been to enough of these parties to where no one questioned his presence. If anything, he was often greeted and offered a cigarette at the very least.

It was highly unusual for other houses to venture into the Slytherins events, old superstitions still highly believed in. Fred would’ve been the same way, if it weren’t for Mattheo. It was an unlikely friendship, one no one could understand. Not George, Not Draco, no one. The ginger scanned the room, excited to find his friend. Word on the street about cocaine being smuggled into Hogwarts was spreading like wildfire. Fred knew he had to be one of the first ones to try it.

Strolling up confidently to the couch Mattheo always sat, the ginger waved. One of Penelope Clearwaters friends sat in Mattheo’s lap, her blue uniform making her stick out like a sore thumb. Mattheo grinned at the sight of Fred, gently pushing the girl away from sucking more hickies onto his neck. “Why don’t you go take a few shots with Pansy and i’ll meet you over there in a second?” He suggested. The girl glanced at Fred, taking the hint and starting her journey of finding Pansy.

Theodore Nott sat on the other side of the couch, a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips. “My favorite Gryffindor, welcome to another rager,” Mattheo chuckled, gesturing to the party that was occurring around them. Fred took a seat beside the brunette, greeting Theodore as well. “So Riddle, what do you have for me? You know I love to try whatever new hits the market,” Fred asked. Mattheo reached into his pocket, holding up a small plastic baggy of white powder.

Fred’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion. Previously he was under the impression that all muggle party substances were in the form of small pills. “That looks like it’s going to taste like shit,” Fred pointed out. A genuine chuckle escaped Mattheo’s lips as he grabbed a small metal tray. “Thats because it does, you don’t swallow it, you snort it,” He explained. Fred watched curiously as he poured the powder onto the tray. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wand.

Mattheo used the tip to slice it into three tiny lines, the small amount only furthering his curiosity. “How many milligrams is that per line?” Fred asked, trying to get a better grasp on the drug in front of him. Once Mattheo made sure the lines looked even, he set his wand aside. “Doesnt work like that. Nott, wanna lead by example?” He asked, gesturing the tray to him.

Theodore didn’t seem to hesitate at all, his nose hovering over one of the lines and inhaling it without a second thought. His lack of hesitance made Fred more confident. “Alright alright let me see what all of this hype is about,” The ginger interjected. Fred was determined to ‘one up’ Theo, the potions master always a bit too cocky for his liking. (Even if he thoroughly enjoyed spending hangovers with him.)

Fred mimicked Theo’s actions, holding one side of his nose as he inhaled the first line. Flames seem to spread through his nostril, the ginger deciding to ignore it and to snort the other line as well. Sharp pain washed over Fred’s senses, the feeling of the powder sliding down the back of his throat making him cough. “Look at that! Atta boy,” Mattheo said encouragingly, patting Fred on the back. As the brunette took a cigarette out of the box Theo gestured to him, he gestured to the party.

“Let’s get out there, shall we?”

Fred had never felt more talkative in his life. From Pansy, to Blaise, to Slytherins he didn’t know, he could not stop talking. Sober, Fred was a very social person. But he knew when to let the conversation fizzle out. But as of right now? That concept didn’t exist. He felt utterly invincible, as if the world itself existed around him for his pleasure and his only. His throat had gone numb, unable to feel the shots he downed repeatedly.

As he was talking to Blaise about his latest prank, his eyes briefly flickered to you. You were mesmerizing, a girl he had never seen before. Fred ensured to keep track of girls in his year, knowing which ones were taken and what not. But you looked to be the same age as him and he had never seen you a day in his life. You stood by the alcohol table, pouring raw tequila down your throat. Without excusing himself Fred left, abandoning his conversation with a way too drunk Blaise.

Fred knew he had to meet you, something about you calling to him. Even as you downed the liquor your hips swayed to the music, your curves intriguing Fred even more. The ginger didn’t feel one ounce of nervousness, the coke having imbedded in his mind. “Hey there, mind if I have a swig?” Fred asked. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, before handing him the bottle. “Thanks,” He said, taking a drink. Fred’s throat was completely numb, the firey liquid not affecting him at all.

He handed the bottle back to you, giving you a sly grin. Your lips were painted a dark red, your beautiful eyes accompanied by flattering dark makeup. The kind Fred could only imagine a Slytherin could pull off. “You have something right here,” You replied, pointing to your upper lip. In a sudden movement you stepped forward, wiping the very top of Fred’s lip. You held up your thumb, the faintest sprinkle of white powder coating the pad of your thumb.

“Thanks, been a wild night. When new muggle stuff comes in it’s always exciting to try it,” Fred said, unscathed by your action. If anything he was into it, thrilled that you were so touchy. “It always is, isn’t it?” You say, taking another swig of the bottle. Fred couldn’t help but grin, thrilled that a girl as hot as you understood his enthusiasm. It was difficult finding another student so adventurous, yet here you stood.

A girl behind you waved at Fred, a friend of Pansy’s. Fred waved back, making a mental note to talk to her later. “So, a lion playing with snakes?” You ask, creating conversation. He hadn’t realized he had just been standing there, his eyes flickering in every direction. Soaking in the party, the music, you, the lights, Pansy’s friend-

“I’m a good friend of Riddle’s, great isn’t he?” Fred said. He gestured to the brunette who was currently dancing on top of a table, his tie loose and hanging around his shoulders. A cigarette hung on his lips, his hips occupied by grinding on the Hufflepuff in front of him. You nodded in agreement, shrugging. After tonight Fred made another mental note to ask Mattheo about you. You were awfully quiet for a Slytherin.

“A real charmer, that’s for sure,” You replied, your words laced with sarcasm. Your eyes flickered to Fred, shooting him a playful smile. “As are you. I see where he learns it from,” You continue, biting your lower lip. Flattery was the gingers weakness, a cocky smile creeping across his lips. “Hey, you wanna get out of here? My dorms gonna be empty. Roommates crashing with one of the boys,” You ask, pointing to the dungeons. Fred knew about the girls rooms being in the dungeons all too well, his visits down there frequent.

“Sure, lead the way little witch,” Fred purred. You grabbed his large hand, your skin cold to the touch. You led him through the hot swaying bodies, your hand gripping his his. As you both approached the staircase to go down further Fred looked over his shoulder, his eyes landing on Mattheo. The brunettes eyebrows were furrowed as he watched him, mouthing a clear question: ‘you good?’

Fred smiled and nodded, shooting him a thumbs up as he followed you down the dungeons. If there was anything Fred knew about Slytherins, without stereotyping them too much, was that they cared about appearances. They kept precise upkeep about their looks, (maybe not including Mattheo), that it teetered towards an unhealthy amount. In Fred’s opinion anyway. He didn’t have to deal with strict parents with pureblood ideologies, so he didn’t feel like he had room to judge.

As you led him further down the staircase he noticed several mirrors in between portraits, for students to use while heading up to the common room. Fred’s focus mainly was on himself, noticing how large his pupils were. You both reached towards the end of the staircase, Fred’s eyes still focused on the mirror. For a split second he squinted, noticing he didn’t see you. His hand was being held in mid air, your fingers not entangled around his palm like he saw before him.

Questioning was on the tip of his tongue, your abrupt words cutting him off. “My dorm is further down and I need you, now,” You say urgently, palming at Fred’s shirt. His eyes flickered to yours, unsure. “Did you see that? You weren’t in the reflection,” Fred asked, completely ignoring your statement. You raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the girls bathroom on the right side of the hall. “You’re paranoid, do you want to fuck or not?” You asked.

Fred shook his head, trying to rationalize with himself. He had a hot witch standing in front of him and he was about to fuck up a one night stand because of some muggle drug. “Absolutely,” Fred agreed, allowing you to lead him into the bathroom. Admittedly this was one place Fred hadn’t been, his knowledge of the room little to none. He was surprised that a velvet green couch sat almost in the center of the room. Would that have been his style choice? Absolutely not. Do witches tend to take their time in the restrooms gossiping? Fred believed so.

Your lips were on him before he could process it, his back hitting the couch. You tasted like raw alcohol, his tastebuds flooded with the sensation as you got on top of him. Fred was typically dominant, but he never minded a Slytherin topping him. You were so confident, tugging your shirt over your heard before reattaching your lips to his. Your touch made Fred want to immediately submit, his cock growing harder by the minute as you straddled him.

“Hard already? Naughty naughty gryffindor,” You teased, biting his bottom lip. Fred groaned, his hands flying to your waist. He guided you to grind against him, his cock growing achingly hard. You kissed down the side of his face to his neck, sucking at his sweet spot. Fred squeezed your thighs, whimpering as your lips littered his skin with marks. You kissed down his clothed chest, all the way down to his aching cock.

You teasingly kissed his hard on, maintaining eye contact as you did so. The ginger bucked his hips towards, throwing his head back as you unbuckled his belt. “If you want me to suck your cock you’re going to have to beg Freddie,” You say, unbuttoning his jeans. Spews of pleas left his lips faster than he would like to admit, “Fuck, please, touch me, please.”

A brief concern of how you knew his name crossed his mind, the worry fading as you shoved his boxers and jeans down his thighs. Fred was decently known, maybe you had known him for an infamous prank or-

His spinning thoughts came to a screeching halt as you took him into your mouth. Fred couldn’t control his noises, you taking control of him and his pleasure one of the hottest things he had ever seen. As you bobbed your head up and down on his cock, Fred chopped up his previous mental ramble to paranoia. Most likely he was coming down from his high, his body adjusting his mind back to normal.

Fred didn’t even know your name, but the moans he was making made it sound like he did. He was pure putty at your hands, willingly and merciless at your disposal. His tip brushed against the back of your throat, expectancy of the sound of gagging ensuing. Except it didn’t. Fred looked down at you in awe, your eyes meeting his. You didn’t have a gag reflex? What kind of magic was this?

He roughly grabbed the back of your head, pushing you down further onto his cock. You took his length with ease, saliva pooling to the base of his shaft. “Merlin, you’re a goddess right? Sent to me from above?” Fred panted, his mind trying to wrap around you. You pulled off of his cock, his hands not affecting your movement. He thought he had applied a decent amount of pressure, even if it was involuntary. What were you? Were you some kind of-

“Maybe, maybe you’re just my personal pet. My babies get the best treatment you know,” You purred. The ginger had no idea what you were rambling about, but what he did know, was that he wanted you to fuck him. “Ride me, fuck, please ride me,” He whined. Most girls would’ve asked for foreplay, head, or something along those lines. But you didn’t ask for either, instead lifting up your skirt and shoving your panties to the side. You guided his tip up and down your drenched folds, the feeling of your warm slick enough to make Fred groan.

He couldn’t understand why he felt so sensitive, his body on cloud nine just from your simple touch. You sank down onto his cock with ease, your walls clenching around him. Fred threw his head back, unable to formulate coherent words as you began to ride him. You seemed unfazed by his size, riding him like you had been doing so for years. Fred was not only unable to speak, but completely and utterly speechless.

You didn’t seem real, his unrealistic expectations for a hookup playing out in front of him. You leaned forward, one hand placed on his throat while the other tugged at his hair. “You like that huh? Feel good Freddie?” You asked. Fred groaned an agreement, his cock brushing against your g spot with every roll of your hips. Most witches would tire out by now, opting to switch positions. Yet you didn’t, your body not seeming to tire as you squeezed at the sides of his throat.

“So good, Merlin, you’re going to be the death of me,” Fred moaned as you licked up the side of his neck. He felt his orgasm approaching, the ginger flustered by the feeling. Was it the coke that was going to make him bust quick? Or was it how well you were riding him? His eyes wondered over your shoulder, landing on a large full length mirror. The presence of the mirror wasn’t surprising, but what was, was your absence. You weren’t present in the reflection, Fred’s head beginning to spin.

“Uh, you’re not in the m-mirror, I-” Fred stuttered, his high approaching faster than he wanted it to. He wanted to go all night with you, but why weren’t you showing up in the mirror? You sat up, your breast bouncing as you continued to ride him.

“You’re being paranoid Freddie, now why don’t you go ahead and cum for me?”

Fred’s hips stuttered as he came inside of your cunt, his head rolling back onto the couch. His ears were ringing, any sounds of you or the party dulling out into nothingness. He began seeing stars, his vision fading out completely. His senses had seemed to given up, Fred’s body unable to sustain itself, passing out.

\/

Fred had woken up a lot of strange places after a party. Most times he woke up beside a witch whose name he didn’t know. Other times he would wake up in random places, one time including the whomping willow. (To this day, no one has any idea how he survived OR got a good nights sleep.) Where Fred had never been woken up before, was in the male Slytherin dorms. Nor, had he ever been violently shaken awake by someone. Faintly he could hear a familiar voice calling out to him, but the words were incoherent.

“Fred! Wake the fuck up!”

He jolted awake, his heart pounding out of his chest as he sat up. Scattered,he looked around, unaware of where he was. His eyes landed on Mattheo and Draco, both of which seemed extremely concerned. “W-what..?” Fred stumbled out. His head was pounding with a rager headache, his body felt drained and spent. “Pansy found you uh-” Draco began, before shooting Mattheo a look that he should speak instead. Mattheo sighed, handing Fred a glass of water.

“She found you in the girls bathroom passed out with your pants pulled down and you uh, came all over yourself,” Mattheo informed him. Fred could feel himself turning red, clutching the water in his hand. His eyes widened in disbelief, becoming dizzy again as he rested his hand on his forehead to keep himself propped up.

“Do you have any idea how you ended up like that dude?” Mattheo asked, keeping his voice even. Bags hung under his eyes, his knee bouncing anxiously. It was rare Fred ever saw Mattheo sober, but he could definitely tell he was. You raced through the gingers mind, embarrassment flooding over him. You weren’t real? None of it was real?

A knock on the door alerted the trio, the Slytherins eyes landing on the new comer. “Well shit I see the party monsters awake,” Theodore said, waltzing in. His confidence made Fred uneasy, his stomach churning. “Do you happen to remember what happened last night?” He asked him, his voice breaking. Theo nodded, taking a seat. “Why don’t you drink some water and i’ll tell you all about it?”

Theo didn’t know Fred well by any means. Sometimes he questioned what Mattheo saw in the ginger, the prankster a bit too full of himself. It was a coincidence he saw him by the alcohol table, talking to himself. At first Theo assumed he was yelling to someone, or even on a muggle phone a lot of Gryffinors used. Cautiously Theo rounded the table, raising his eyebrows as Fred offered the bottle of tequila he had been cuddling to the air in front of him.

The brunette couldn’t believe his eyes, watching dumbfounded as Astoria Greengrass gave him a wave. Briefly his eyes flickered upwards at the Slytherin, before returning to the void in front of him. With a confused expression Theo decided it was none of his business, returning back to Mattheo with new drinks in hand. He figured he was just high, anyways. Unknowingly Mattheo had recommended Fred to Astoria, who was looking for a quick hook up to help her get over her ex.

A dumbfounded Astoria had beat Theo to Mattheo, her lips moving a mile a minute. She was weirded out by Fred’s behavior, the ginger confirmed to be talking to the air. Mattheo’s eyes flickered upwards, watching as Fred was heading towards the stairs. His hand was held out in front of him, a goofy smile spread across his lips. He made eye contact with Mattheo, who managed to communicate through all the noise and ask if he was good.

Fred seemed more than good, excitedly nodding and heading down to the dungeons. It wasn’t until the next morning Pansy came running, trying to get the boys to help her carry Fred before anyone saw him.

As the group sat in Mattheo’s room you watched from the shadows, invisible to everyone around you. You had died from a cocaine overdose in 1970, the curse of your afterlife being that no one could see you. The only time anyone did, was when they had done the drug themselves. You didn’t quite understand the logistics of it, other ghost able to see you, but no being with a beating heart could.

You had been shocked Fred had seen you at the alcohol table, after being used to being unseen for so long. As cocky and mischievous as you knew Fred to be from watching, you liked him. So much so that you knew scaring the ever loving fuck out of him was going to be the only way he would never touch the horrid stuff again. Party monsters like Fred, often times danced on the line between life and death. Their bodies, from what you could understand, would be into overdrive. That crossover allowed him to see you.

You thoroughly enjoyed fucking Fred, even if the ginger now regretted it. And as much as you wished you could see him again, you knew he deserved a better chance at life. “Bloody hell, i’m never touching that stuff again,” Fred groaned, cupping his pounding head. You smiled at his confession, walking up to Draco’s side. You stood beside him, the blonde unaware of your presence. Your mission was complete, Fred would be on a better path now. You smiled to yourself, watching as the ginger lifted his head.

His eyes widened, centered on you.

“What the actual fuck are you doing here?!”

He can see you?

a/n: can yall tell im into plot twist rn? lol. might do a part two if yall want it >:)

[hanoxoxo]

Is Jealousy sweet?

Regina George x f!reader

Warnings: Jealousy

A/N: I'm so tired rn🎀

Regina George was used to being the center of attention. With her impeccable fashion sense, flawless blonde hair, and a sharp wit, she had everyone at North Shore High under her thumb. But lately, something had been bothering her, and it all started with you.

You were a recent transfer, a quiet girl who preferred the company of music over people. Despite your reserved nature, you'd managed to capture the attention of everyone around you, including Regina’s. It started innocently enough.

You joined the same English class as Regina and the Plastics. The first time you spoke up, your insightful analysis of "Pride and Prejudice" had the entire class in awe. Regina watched, intrigued and annoyed. She was the queen bee, and someone new drawing attention was a direct challenge.

Then there were the moments in the hallway. Regina noticed the way people gravitated towards you, the way your laughter lit up the corridor. It irked her to see Aaron Samuels, her ex-boyfriend, laughing with you at lunch. But what bothered her the most was how often you seemed to catch her eye. It wasn’t long before Regina found herself inexplicably drawn to you. She told herself it was because you were a threat to her reign, that she needed to keep an eye on you. But deep down, she knew it was more than that. There was something about your quiet confidence and genuine kindness that she couldn’t ignore.

Regina’s jealousy grew with each passing day. She hated the way you made her feel vulnerable, the way you unknowingly challenged her perfect facade. It all came to a head one Friday afternoon during lunch.

You were sitting with Janis and Damian, the 'freaks', laughing about something when Regina walked by with her entourage. She saw you glance at her, your eyes locking for a brief moment. That look was enough to send her over the edge. “Can you believe her?” Regina hissed to Gretchen and Karen as they walked away. “She thinks she can just waltz in here and take over. Well, she’s got another thing coming.”

That afternoon, Regina devised a plan. She would invite you to join the Plastics, get close to you, and then crush you. It was perfect. But as she approached you at your locker, her heart raced in a way it never had before. “Hey,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “So, I was thinking. You should sit with us at lunch on Monday.” You looked up, surprised. “Me? Why?” Regina smiled, a perfectly rehearsed smile. “Because you’re new, and we’d like to get to know you better. Besides, it’s the least we can do for someone as smart as you.” You hesitated, but something in Regina’s eyes made you agree. “Okay, sure. Thanks, Regina.”

The weekend passed in a blur, and by Monday, Regina was a bundle of nerves. She’d never felt this way about anyone before, and the jealousy gnawed at her.

When you joined the Plastics at their table, she couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of excitement and dread. “So, Y/N,” Regina began, “tell us about yourself.” You smiled, a genuine smile that made Regina’s heart skip a beat. “There’s not much to tell. I moved here because my dad got a new job. I enjoy, singing, and drawing. Pretty boring stuff.” Karen, ever the ditz, chimed in. “Do you have a boyfriend?” You blushed. “No, I don’t.” Regina’s heart soared at the news, but she quickly masked her reaction. “Interesting. Well, you should know that being part of our group comes with certain... responsibilities.”

As the weeks went by, Regina’s plan started to unravel. The more time she spent with you, the more she found herself genuinely liking you. You were smart, funny, and kind – everything she secretly wished she could be. And the more she liked you, the more her jealousy faded, replaced by something even scarier: affection.

One afternoon, the two of you were in Regina’s room, going over homework. Regina watched as you chewed on the end of your pen, deep in thought. She wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. “Regina,” you said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Why did you really invite me to join the Plastics?” Regina froze. “What do you mean?” You sighed. “I know you didn’t like me at first. So why the sudden change of heart?” Regina looked down, unable to meet your eyes.

“I thought you were a threat. I was jealous of you.” You blinked, surprised. “Jealous? Of me? Why?” Regina took a deep breath. “Because you’re everything I’m not. You’re smart, kind, and people genuinely like you. And... I was scared. Scared of how you made me feel.”

You moved closer, your hand resting on hers. “How do I make you feel?”Regina’s heart pounded in her chest. “Like I’m not as perfect as I pretend to be. Like I’m... vulnerable.”

There was a moment of silence before you leaned in, your lips brushing against hers. The kiss was soft, tentative, but it sent a jolt of electricity through Regina’s body. When you pulled away, she felt breathless. “I like you, Regina,” you whispered. “Not the queen bee, but the real you. The one who’s scared and vulnerable. ”Regina’s eyes filled with tears, and for the first time in a long time, she let her guard down. “I like you too, Y/N. More than I’ve ever liked anyone.”

From that day on, things changed. Regina was still the queen bee, but she was also your girlfriend. And for the first time, she felt like she didn’t have to be perfect. Because with you, she could just be Regina.

And that was more than enough.

A/N: this one was long 😋

[vultbae]

water and oil ✩

tashi duncan x female reader blurb

↳ summary: the two female college tennis archenemies play against each other.

↳ warnings: angst, being closeted.

↳ notes: english is not my first language pookies! also, I couldn't believe there aren't almost any Tashi fics??? and happy pride! not proof-read btw

word count: 1.1k

An ear-piercing scream rips through the air, slicing through the ambient noise of the tennis court like a knife, instantly making your body freeze. Your chest aggressively compresses as you watch your lifetime opponent, Tashi Duncan, fall on her back and crumple to the ground in agony, hands clutching her injured knee as if trying to hold herself together. 

Everything has diverted into penetrating silence, and you feel your racket gradually slipping from your fingers, the once-familiar weight slipping away unnoticed as you stare at Tashi Duncan with shock and a rigid, fast-pounding heart. Her face is a torturous portrayal of suffering, with knitted eyebrows and a constant audible sob escaping her lips.

You can't —or are incapable— of moving a muscle; they have locked themselves with a key you forgot where you placed. Instead, you stare with tears brimming at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over but held back by sheer will. Suddenly, the sour mutterings from the crowd began to stab the thick fog of your shock. At first, the voices were just a faraway hum, but soon, the words became crystal clear.

"Why isn't she helping her?" 

"Look at her—she doesn't even care. She will win by default."

"They hate each other; she won't help." 

You are aware that the public perception of your rivalry with Tashi is intense, fueled by years of competitive clashes on and off the court. So, technically, they aren't wrong. You kind of hate each other, at least publicly. Even college recruiters had recognized early on that your rivalry was too severe to coexist on the same team—you for UCLA and Tashi for Stanford. You are polar opposites in playing style and temperament, each embodying traits that clash rather than complement. 

While other tennis players in your age group get praised for their ability to work beautifully together, Tashi and you resemble more water and oil.

And water and oil don't mix. 

Your heart sinks further as your gaze shifts from Tashi Duncan to the male figure now hysterically rushing onto the court. He is tall and good-looking, with blonde curls and an exaggerated expression of concern that you find melodramatic and infuriatingly genuine all at once. Recognition dawns upon you like a dark cloud—Art Donaldson, the young tennis promise Tashi had been talking to lately, also from Stanford.

The sight of Donaldson crossing onto the court, jumping over the net without hesitation, and acting like a wannabe hero stirs a mixture of sour emotions within your core—jealousy, resentment, and a deep sense of helplessness. Of course, it makes absolute sense Tashi Duncan is dating a handsome, talented tennis player from her same school... and guess what? He came to the rescue! You internally cringe at the horrid thought of everyone applauding him for caring for your girlfriend.

The crowd's accusatory murmurs continue behind your back. Your fists clench at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you follow Art Donaldson's silhouette kneeling beside Tashi's body with eyes filled with hostility and envy. You watch as he gently takes Tashi's hand in his, his facial expression softening as he murmurs charming words of reassurance to the girl deliriously in pain. You can't tolerate it. You stay there, still torn and immobilized, with your mind racing and endeavoring to decide what to do. 

"Sometimes I wish I was a dude," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper in the quiet of Tashi's dimly lit college dorm. Tashi's fingers lightly brushed through your hair but abruptly stopped. "If I was that Patrick dude or the other blonde guy, my life would be ten times easier."  

You heard her sigh. 

"But you wouldn't be as good at tennis," Tashi softly replied, and you could tell she was avoiding conflict at all costs. 

A beat.

"But I would have you," you said, turning your head to face Tashi, whose expression remained reflective and contradictory as she stared into the soft glow of the lamp lying on her night table. "I promise that's all that matters to me, Tash," you reassured.

Your eyes met, each with equal sorrow and frustration. Tashi broke eye contact first.

Tashi knew that picking arguments with Patrick was very easy, and she didn't have the urge to speak of anything else annexed from tennis and sex with him. You somehow managed to actively amuse her with conversations regarding your crusty dog back home, the food you have tried when you travel abroad, and everlasting anecdotes that provoke you to giggle and steal a genuine smile from Tashi's lips every single time. 

And it wasn't too long after you exchanged your first words in private for her to realize she loved you. But not in a chummy way. Tashi romantically loved you.

But she never said it. Tashi just guessed you would assume she maniacally loved you, and you would satisfy yourself with that.

But the belief of Tashi loving you felt unimaginable in situations like this.

And now, the panorama of them together reflecting a couple straight out of a film—Art's concern etched on his face, Tashi's distress requiring attention—served as a stark, fucking bitter reminder of the captivating image they could market for years. They look perfect, they look—right.

So, why bother ruining Tashi's career? If her key to branding conquest is right there, kneeling next to her aching body in the form of a six-foot gorgeous tennis player.

In that rare moment of clarity, you make a sore, silent vow to honor your secret, to continue navigating the labyrinth of hidden tenderness and affection if Tashi doesn't decide to drop you after this.

But, as you are one intrusive thought away from stepping out of the court —or, better said, escape— Tashi's hazel orbs, flickering with anxiety and in between dried and brand-new tears, disembark on your outline. Internally, she wonders why you cry —at least as much as her, and you wish you could clarify is because you feel powerless. You are powerless. 

Tashi stares one, five, fifteen, thirty seconds. She doesn't quit. You stare back. Encircling her, the Stanford medical team consoles her and provides instructions to which she doesn't pay attention. To her right side, and almost covering the view of her, the blonde guy starts to question what —or who— she is looking at.

You mouth, "I love you."

Tashi's eyes widen slightly in surprise, and you can see that little pout of hers appearing over her lips.

Art turns to track Tashi's gaze, falling over you.

And when he's not looking, Tashi mouths back.

"I love you too."

And that's what matters because no one else needs to know that water and oil can mix.

[angelicpoison12]

first date ღ

Angel takes you out for the first time since you’re new in Hell!

M4M/M4A, SFW, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

café date, stargazing, soft kisses, sfw, wholesome moments with your fluffy spider

It was your first date with Angel. Saying you were nervous would be an understatement.

— ❤︎︎ —

You were scared to say the least. Angel helped you take a seat at a small booth in the coffee shop he’d taken you to. The seats were surprisingly clean, the red cushions soft beneath your bodies. The walls of the old coffee shop were stained and had splashes of odd liquid on them from old accidents, yet it seemed like an odd sense of comfort was lingering within the old walls of the establishment.

Angel got a capuchino. You really didn’t know what to get, so you just got a smoothie. Angel then smirked and said, “Don’t got a taste fer coffee, toots?” He asked teasingly. You rolled your eyes. “There’s just so many options.. It’s hard to decide.” You said back in a remark, your hands holding the faded yellowish menu. The smoothie you’d gotten was fruity, and Angel enjoyed his coffee. You both chatted and got closer. You realized that there was more to Angel than his flirtatious facade and sweet face. I mean, you already assumed that there was more, but you never realized how complex and caring he could be.

When you were talking about your past and how gotten to Hell, you noticed Angel’s hand was soft as he placed it on top of yours. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t bring it up. Angel noticed this and smirked. “Aw toots, this okay?” He asked. All you did was nod, smiling bashfully at him. “Yeah, it’s okay,” You told Angel kindly. You and Angel finished your drinks, paid, and left. Angel wanted to show you around Hell, and who were you to refuse?

— ❤︎︎ —

Angel decided to walk with you, his large heels clacking against the concrete of the sidewalk, your hand in his. He pointed excitedly at all of the things he showed you: the outlets, the hellish porn studio, the clubs, the tv shop, a few small restaurants and cafés, downtown where the cannibals lived, and Angel was even gracious enough to take you up a building where where you could get a full view of the wondrous city.

“Wow..” You whispered. The night sky was a dark maroon, smoke waving in the air from the residents below, and smoky clouds that were breathtaking. You never thought you’d genuinely enjoy a place you’d been told was horrible your entire life, but Angel was helping you find solace in your new home. He looked at you, asking, “Beautiful, ain’t it, toots?” “Yeah.. Yeah, it is.” You responded quietly. Angel wrapped one of his lower arms around you, pulling you closer while his top left arm started gently playing with your hair. He pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, whispering, “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt ya, toots.. Not under my watch.” He told you in a soft voice. His words made you blush and smile.

He gently cupped your chin, turning you towards him. His eyes gazed into yours, and time seemed to stop. “Y/N,” Angel nearly whispered. If it wasn’t for him being so close to you, you wouldn’t have been able to hear him under the sounds of cars beeping, people screaming/yelling at each other, and music starting to bump up from the nightclubs on the block below. “Angel,” you responded, your eyes fluttering a little. Your breaths mingled, coffee mixing with strawberries. When he kissed you, your eyes closed momentarily, tasting the sweetness of his soft lips. He cupped the back of your head, and your fingers twirled in his soft locks.

When you pulled away from each other, Angel’s four arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. You squeaked as your face landed in his chest fluff, and he nuzzled his nose against your hair in a sweet little Eskimo kiss.

Maybe Hell wasn’t so bad after all. As long as Angel was here with you.

[antiwhores]

I am screaming crying throwing up at how good your writing is my horny ass self THANKS YOU

if i may please make a request 👉🏼👈🏼 could we have a pussy eater bakugo fic 😮‍💨 lives in my head rent free

Bakugou eating you out

Sorry this took so long, ive been tryna run my W’s up. THANK YOU!! And enjoy

Bakugou loves to eat your pussy, no matter what you have to say about it.

Pussy eating ofc, mentions of all types of freplay and shit, sex, dub-con if you squint, voyeurism, etc.

Bakugou has never been a very shy person. Nothing about the way he carried himself is shy. When you think of antonyms for shy you think of Bakugou Katsuki.

That’s why you found yourself confused the first time he went down on you.

The farthest you had gone prior was dry humping and mutual masturbation. Giving and recieving head was a big deal for the both of you. It was the next step before penetration.

Bakugou was timid and careful when he opened your legs. It was like he thought you’d jump away and never come back if he made too sudden of a move. It was weird yet endearing since Bakugou was so aggressive when chasing pleasure while he dry humped you.

That careful attitude only lasted so long though. After a couple times, especially after you had gone all the way, he had been a lot more… demanding.

Bakugou found pleasure in tasting you on his tongue. From directly, to the aftertaste. Its like he found himself drunk on it. Your pussy made him feel like a fucking alcoholic.

He started to take you whenever and whereever he wanted. From the safe confines of your bedroom to the risky, crowded closet of his job.

He would get on his knees and place you on his mouth, holding you effortlessly.

His mouth needly licking and slurping at your constricting cunt while you covered your mouth to at least try to prevent being caught. Although, you wondered if the sounds of him eating you bare would attract people quicker than your muffled moans.

His tongue stuck deep into your cunt, scrapping itsef against your walls to bring back the slick that coated them. This was his fourth time pulling you away in the past hour. He was particularly horny today and nothing would stand inbetween him and your sloppy ecstasy, not even work.

First he pulled you to the boys bathroom on the almost abandoned rear side of the building. He fucked your mouth hard on his cock while whining praises mixed with degration. Then he fucked you onto his cock like his own personal fleshlight.

Then it was his office on the top floor. He locked his door as a compromise with you (he didnt want to at first but you said you were gonna scream if he didn’t, asshole move but it worked.) and finger fucked you on his desk until you came twice. He was about to whip himself out for a third orgasm but a knock on the door had you accidentally slapping the shit out of him.

The third time it was your office. He stumbled in with a hard cock and started to thigh fuck you until he came all over your desk and stomach. Then he proceeded to sloppily eat your cunt until you came into his mouth all while he jerked himself off.

And that leaves you to now, the fourth time. Where his lazy eyes watched you during the whole meeting you both attended. He eye-fucked you the entire time. Then after he dragged you into the closet far end of the agency building. It was cramped and he barely even squeezed the both of you in there. The only light was the one seeping from under the floor.

“Fuck,” he groaned into your cunt. You were sensitive after all the orgasm’s you had so far. Fat tears began to run down your cheeks.

A particular targeted thrust of him tongue had you flinching away from his touch. You tried to force yourself off of him but the growing pleasure made you weak in the knees. “Katsuki,” you moaned, “T’s too much. Too many times today.”

He always seems to get genuinely upset when your body jerks away from him when he eats you out. Its like taking a plate of his favorite food, made by his favorite chef, and kissed by a fucking god away from him from him, under his nose.

His grip on you tightened and he pulled you lower onto him. So much lower you were afraid he’d suffocate. A deep growl echoed through his chest as he told you to “shut up and sit pretty” through glistening lips.

He didn’t let you leave until after that painfully euphoric orgasm. And the next. By the end of your work shift, you limped to your shared home only to be fucked into complete immobility as soon as you arrived.

[seancekitsch]

Hello!!! Good (Time of reading :p), could i request a lucifer x reader fic/headcanons (whatever fits) where the reader is new to hell and is way too nice for a place like this? They are in the hotel trying to get redeemed and to be safe.

If you need more ideas: reader cooking dinner for a tired lucifer

its a shortie but its cute!

“Charlie, can you set me up with the new sinner? Lucifer had asked, “like on a date?”

He genuinely didn’t know what he was signing up for, certainly not a fully planned excursion through every sector of the ring. 

But you had politely bodied every challenge, not only endearing him to you, but also the rest of hell. 

You’d politely watched and cheered and clapped at the sex shows, you’d graciously accepted meals in cannibal town, avoided angering any turf wars on picnics and walks. It was like you were trying to score most popular in the Pride Ring. But Lucifer knew that wasn’t the case, he knew this was just you. Sweet you, polite you, undeserving of Hell you. 

“Do you like onions?” you call from the kitchen, shaking him from his thoughts.

“Onions are fine!” He calls, getting up to join you. The smells from the hotel kitchen are divine, your third meal together today being a midnight snack. Lucifer leans over the counter, looking at where you mix diced onion and tomato in a bowl with ease, humming a light tune. 

You turn towards him, a coy smile on your face as you wink at him, then jostle the bowl you’re stirring.

“What are you doing here?” Lucifer asks, his mouth moving faster than his mind. That’s a rude question to ask. Some Sinners are secretive, some are sensitive. The ones at his daughter’s hotel aren’t… but they’re also a little different. 

“Making salsa from scratch,” you answer nonchalant, reaching past him to grab a spice off the rack, “Tastes better that way. I figured you could magic us up some chips?”

You quirk an eyebrow at him, and he can’t help the way he feels his cheeks heat up. 

He chuckles, his hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly before a bowl of chips appears on the other side of the counter. 

“No I uh- I mean here, as in, you know,” he coughs, “Hell.”

You stir in chili flakes with a wooden spoon, but then stop when his words sink in. 

Shit, he thinks, I’ve fucked this up. 

“Well,” you clear your throat, “Thats a secret, Your Majesty.”

You’re toying with him.

“All I’ll say is that I have a good reason for being here.”

You usher him to try the salsa, and he gladly dips one of his chips into the bowl, scooping out a hefty portion. Lucifer lifts it to his lips, and the moment it reaches his tongue he’s reminded of Heaven. Not actual Heaven, not the feelings of hopelessness or frustration. The nostalgia of the joy he had when he was inventing, thousands of years ago. The experience of a product made with love. Maybe instead of an apple he should have tempted humanity with your salsa instead.

He’s a goner. 

You don’t ask him why he’s here, not in Hell, not in the hotel, not still making this date last almost twelve whole hours later. 

“Are you planning on a short stay?” He asks, silently praying for the first time in centuries to not get his hopes up.

“I’m trying to stay safe, at least until I decide,” there’s a secretive smile on your face, alluring and inviting. Lucifer wants to kiss you, wants to drop the first date gentleman act, wants to make a mess on the counter. But he won’t, and only because he doesn’t want to ruin your handiwork, and because he’s hungry. 

“It’s a good thing I can guarantee that while you’re making up your mind!” he reassures you, inching closer until his chest bumps your shoulder. 

You surprise him by leaning over, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. 

“I guess now if as good a time as any to tell you I’m notoriously indecisive then, hmm?”

Lucifer hopes you never make up your mind.

[deakyjoe]

Somebody’s Watching Me Part 2

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (she/her pronouns used, reader is implied British and given backstory)

Category: I still don’t know but it’s coming together

Summary: On a night out with your friends, you’re pleasantly surprised to run into your secret observer.

Warnings: flirting (Ghost and reader getting some action, they deserve it), mentions of war/death, talks of scars, alcohol consumption, Ghost being normal AND weird, the mask is off again, Ghost doing domestic things almost (socialisation in a pub), sexual references, family issues, reader’s friends are intense, British terminology/slang, swearing/cursing, dialogue heavy, minute Soap slander (I love him but couldn’t resist)

Word Count: 5.5k (longer than part 1)

A/N: After the love I got for part 1, I decided to continue so Simon is still my babygirl. Please remember that if Simon feels out of character, that’s the point of this story. It’s him when he’s not being Ghost but being forced to mix aspects of his life at home and his life at work - the work aspects being reader. Also he’s going out of his comfort zone to please the sergeant (you) because he likes you but just hasn’t really realised it yet. Not entirely sure I’m as pleased with this part as I was with the first but we’re posting anyway!

Part 1 available here.

Part 3 available here.

It took weeks before your friends finally managed to convince you to join them on a night out. You'd been putting it off for a number of reasons. One being that the thought of socialising in a crowded environment had you wanting to gouge your eyes out as you'd grown used to little to no company. Another being that you genuinely thought it'd be overwhelming and you might have a panic attack.

But after they'd assured you that they'd look after you and you could all leave if it got to be too much, you relented and organised a time and place with them. Just your local pub on a Wednesday night. You'd decided on a Wednesday as you hoped it wouldn't be too crowded and that your friends might need a pick-me-up in the middle of their work weeks. They agreed quickly with the idea.

And honestly it'd been nice for the most part. You'd arrived early, you swear active duty had made you so time efficient that you spent almost no time at all getting ready, and sat down at a table in the corner, out of sights of the most of the rest of the pub. The only thing in direct eye line was the bar itself which would come in handy when you needed to go up and order drinks.

Your friends all slowly arrived, none of them being too late, and gave you big greetings as they hadn't seen you in "forever" they claimed. You returned hugs and kisses and prepared yourself for a night of bombarding questions and retelling of war stories.

A couple of your girlfriends were bought drinks by guys at the bar and you watched on in amusement as they giggled about it together. They assured you that someone would probably buy you a drink if you asked but you waved them off saying you didn't care, which you didn't.

You listened intently as they all told you what was happening with their lives - work, significant others, kids, families, pets, parties, weddings, funerals, birthdays, anything and everything you could possibly imagine. A note of envy settled in your stomach at one point but it went away quickly when you told yourself you were being silly.

Telling them about your life was slightly more complicated. You had to skirt around some of the details of your job as it was classified and would probably horrify them if they knew what you truly did. You gushed about some of the amazing people you'd met and mentioned casually that you'd actually bumped into your lieutenant in the supermarket. They all absorbed it with wide eyes of wonder and amazement, each of them having at least one question to ask.

"So, wait, you can actually shoot a gun?"

"Does it bother you having to bunk with a bunch of blokes?"

“What’s said country like?”

"Are any of them fit?"

"Isn't it tiring?"

"How long until you go back?"

"Met anyone you fancy?"

"Hang on, you have to share a communal bathroom?"

Yes, it's alright, not really, they're okay, very, not sure, oh my god, yeah.

They never really seemed satisfied with your answers and always wanted you to elaborate. Which you did if possible.

Overall, it was nice. There was no sense of impending doom or a weird feeling in your stomach about the whole thing. You let your guard down just enough for once to attempt to have a good time. Which you did. You laughed, you chatted, you drank, it was good.

Until the bar tender came over with a drink that looked exactly like what you usually ordered.

And when he placed it in front of you, you wanted to throw up.

"Fella at the bar bought this for you."

This was it. The moment in the night that you looked forward to the least and the moment your friends had been encouraging the most. They insisted that you needed to "put yourself out there more" and “try to get laid at some point”. You were "too uptight" as they put it. Little did they know that you weren't really interested in a quick shag or even a relationship with anyone at the moment. And rejecting someone was always awful. Every time they asked why and having to explain that your job made romantic entanglements extremely hard made things awkward.

"Ooh, this is so exciting!" One of your friends squealed beside you, frantically searching the bar for the culprit. "Which one?"

“Blond one.”

Oh.

"Tall."

My.

"Scars on his face."

God.

Your eyes shot towards the bar and immediately landed on him. Of course he was already looking your way with his drink raised to you.

"Shit." You cursed, silently letting out a sigh of relief that it wasn't someone you'd have to reject but all the more anxious because it was him. A part of you was very excited to see him though.

"What is it? Do you know him?" Another friend asked you.

"He's my lieutenant. Fuck." You stood from your seat, grabbing the drink.

"The one from the shops?"

"Yeah. I'll be back in a minute, guys. I'm just gonna go say hi." You explained, slowly making your way towards Ghost.

"Take your time!"

You hadn't seen your lieutenant since he'd gone over to your place for tea. It was a weird experience. Weirder than the shops. You'd had a couple cups of tea each, shared his packet of chocolate digestive biscuits, which he'd kindly offered to you, chatted a little more and then he'd left. You didn't exchange phone numbers or even offer to see each other again. He didn't because he probably didn't want to and you didn't because you thought he probably wouldn't want to. So you'd gone your separate ways and that was that.

As you got closer to him, you wished you hadn't had so much to drink. You weren't drunk but you weren’t sober either. Kind of just bordering the edges between being buzzed and tipsy.

"Simon."

He turned so his body was facing yours, his large frame consumed the stool he was sitting on. Intimidating and alluring all at once. "Sergeant."

"You really should start calling me by my name." You sighed, stopping to stand in front of him.

"I like calling you sergeant."

"And I liked calling you lieutenant." You shot back, taking a sip of your drink despite your head screaming at you not to.

"Bet you like calling me Simon more."

Your eyes widened at his statement. He wasn't wrong but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "Thanks for the drink, by the way."

"It's no problem. Thought I owed you for the bourbon."

You hummed in agreement but said nothing.

"Friends of yours?" He nodded towards your table where all of them were watching the two of you interact intently.

"Uh, yeah. First night out since being home so..." You shrugged.

"Having fun?"

"I was." You regretted your words immediately, knowing that you’d been insensitive.

"Ruined it, did I?" He asked but it wasn't malicious.

"No. Just... unexpected."

He nodded. "So, which one's your boyfriend?"

You were surprised at the question. Last time he'd enquired about your personal life it hadn't gone so well.

"You live alone?"

"Yeah. Used to have a hamster but he died a few months back."

He blinked at you and said nothing so you rushed off to make tea, desperately trying to come up with a new topic to talk about when you got back to him.

"That's presumptuous of you, lieutenant."

"Just making conversation with you, sergeant." The return of dropping rank had you tingling inside. Might have just been the alcohol though.

You huffed. "None of them."

"Girlfriend then?"

You shook your head. "Nope."

"Sorry soul you're torturing with your affection couldn't make it then? What a shame." His eyes narrowed, you presumed he was joking.

"I'll ignore that insult. I'm single." Setting your drink on the surface of the bar, you leant your hip against the side but not before taking a step closer to him.

"Lucky for the world then that you're not burdening anyone with yourself."

"Jesus, Simon." You laughed out of shock, struck with his bluntness.

"Had to be said."

"Huh, you really are a charmer." You flashed him a glimpse of your teeth in a small smile, brows raising on the last word of your sentence.

"I try my best.” Pause. “Why are you single?"

"Because my affection is a burden apparently." Repeating his own words back to him seemed better than explaining your depressing void of no romance in your life because of your job. But maybe he’d understand.

"I'm serious."

"Why do you care?"

Simon didn’t strike you as the kind of person who gave a shit about the love lives of people he worked with. So why did he seem so interested in yours?

He didn't answer straight away and when he did, it seemed rehearsed. "You're my sergeant, part of my team. It's my role to care."

"To make sure I stay alive. Not to inquire about my love life." You were properly frowning at him now.

Ghost raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry I asked."

With a sigh, you relented. "The job."

"Go on…"

"Makes it difficult. The job makes it difficult to date. Especially civilians." You added the last bit on with clenched teeth. It didn’t really matter. Civilians were not on your romantic radar.

"Would you want to date a civilian?"

He saw straight through you.

"No, not really."

"Hmm."

You wanted to avoid discussing the topic any further so asked a question to change the subject. "What're you drinking?"

"Scotch that Soap recommended."

"And?"

He swished the glass around, the ice clinking against the side. "Utter shite."

"Figures." You took a long look at his drink. “You drink it on the rocks.”

“Tastes better cold. Less shit.”

“That your second glass?”

"Monitoring my alcohol intake, sergeant?” He asked and you shook your head as he looked you up and down. “You gonna take a seat or just stand there all day?"

"I'm supposed to be going back to my friends." You gestured weakly over your shoulder with your thumb, kind of forgetting they’d still been there until that moment.

His eyes flickered between the table and you. "Think we both know that isn't happening any time soon."

You hated how he saw straight through you. "Do we?"

"We do. Take a seat, sergeant." He nodded towards the stool next to him.

You stood up straighter, making a point to look directly into his eyes. "I like being eye level with you."

His foot hooked around the back of your legs and tugged you closer to him. "Think you'll find that I've still got a couple inches on you."

Your skin flushed hot, he was so close to you. You reached out and tapped his chest a couple times before realising what you were doing and removed your hand. "Think you'll find that you've had a bit too much to drink, sir."

"Simon. Thought we'd established that you can call me Simon." He leant back a little bit, relaxing in his seat. “And thought we agreed that you weren’t monitoring my alcohol intake.”

"Sorry." You squeaked.

"Sorry who?"

With a smile, you looked up at him through your lashes. You already knew what you were going to say. "Sorry... Lieutenant Riley."

He smiled. Actually smiled. It was small but it was unmistakable. "Brat."

He was beautiful when he smiled. He was always beautiful but when Simon Riley smiled… he was radiant.

You lit up at the smile but glowered at the insult. "Simon!"

"It's true." He shrugged, taking another mouthful of his drink and wincing at the taste.

"I'm stubborn. Not a brat."

"Believe me, I know you're stubborn. You've almost died like twelve times because you're stubborn. Had to save you every time." He shook his head as if it were a grievance to him.

"Could've left me behind."

"Couldn't do that. I'm your lieutenant, remember? My role is to keep you alive."

"I'm sure Price would let it slide if you had good enough reason." You thought about your Captain and wondered if he'd let you die for a good enough cause. Probably. But you held no resentment towards that fact.

Simon's head tilted to the side as he watched you think. "Don't think he'd accept brat as a reason, hm?"

You raised a finger to correct him. "Stubborn. Not a brat."

"Definitely a brat."

"Stop calling me that." You whined.

"That was the brattiest thing you've ever said. In the brattiest voice." He glared down at you. "You whined."

"You're such a dickhead, Simon." You scoffed but it was clear you were holding back a smile.

"And you're a brat. Guess we're even."

"Okay, I'm going back to my friends. To get away from this targeted attack." You paused. "Unless you want to join."

"I'll pass."

"I guessed. Do you have any friends? Maybe you could use the socialisation." You offered, wondering whether the man ever spoke to anyone when he was home or if he completely isolated himself from the rest of the world.

"Don't have friends for a reason."

That answered that for you.

"And what's that?"

"Ask too many personal questions."

He had a valid point. People did ask too many personal questions and you could understand why someone like Simon wouldn't like that.

"They wouldn't. My friends. They know we tend to be... private."

"You're a sergeant and I'm a lieutenant. Neither of us are privates." He paused to let the joke settle in. "A little army humour."

"I got it. That was good." You beamed at him, eyes crinkling in the corners at his quip.

"How much do they know of what we do?" He nodded in the direction of your friends.

You thought it over for a moment. "Very little. They know more about my teammates than anything else. Even that is limited."

He stiffened at that. "What do they know of me?"

"My quiet lieutenant with no face. Until recently." You let your eyes roam his features, taking all of him in. He was remarkable to look at really. But you'd never voice that to him.

"Hmm."

"There's more but I won't divulge with you." It was a partial joke to mess with him a little. There was some truth behind it however. You may or may not have gushed about your lieutenant to your friends. But that was nothing really. Just friendly appreciation for the man who outranked you.

"That makes me nervous."

Playing with him was too easy and too fun. "You should be."

"I'm reconsidering sitting with you and your friends now." He frowned but wasn't completely serious.

That surprised you. "You were going to?"

"Maybe." He drank more of the Scotch and trembled. "Christ, this stuff is fucking disgusting."

"Order a bourbon, something you know you actually like." You sighed. "Please do. If they're too much we can leave."

"We?" He was always questioning we.

You rolled your eyes at him. "It's always we. Teammates, y'know?"

A level of unsureness settled over his face. "I know."

"Get used to a lot of we then."

"Don't plan on seeing you again after this." The admittance stung but you weren't going to let that stop you.

"I'm sure you thought that last time as well. But here we are. Are you stalking me?" There was a hint of genuineness in the question. There was no way this second chance encounter was pure coincidence.

He shook his head, waving the bar tender over and ordering a bourbon like you'd suggested. "You're too boring for that."

"You have such a way with words. Really know how to make a lady feel special." You said dryly.

"It's a gift." He scratched at the side of his nose, absentmindedly trailing a finger over one of his scars in the process.

"They wouldn't say anything, y'know? Or stare. If you're worried about that. I've come home with my fair share of scars over the years. They understand." You pulled the neckline of your shirt to the side to show off an old bullet wound that had scarred over on your collar bone.

Simon's eyes lingered on the mark on your skin but you couldn't quite read his expression. "People always stare."

"I don't."

"No, you don't." He hesitated. "Okay then."

"Wait, really?" You perked up.

"Yes, really. Quickly. Before I change my mind, sergeant." He rose from his seat, grabbing his drink and gesturing for you to go first.

You gazed up at him. It really was easy to forget just how big he was. "Quick question first?"

He didn't seem keen. "Go ahead."

"How long were you here watching me before you sent the drink over?" You really needed to know, to see how out of it you were.

"Not long." Lie.

Your brow furrowed. "How long, Simon?"

"About forty minutes."

Your eyes widened. You didn't expect it to have been that long. "Fort- Jesus. And I didn't notice you?"

He brushed you off with a small shrug. "You were having fun. Guard was down."

"Still."

"Don't dwell on it. I was just going to leave and not let you know I was here." His eyes moved away from you, the opposite side of his eye contact problem showing.

You ducked to the side to meet his gaze again. "Why didn't you?"

He shrugged again.

You offered him a small slip of affection, just the tiniest thing. "I'm glad you didn't."

He grunted in reply, which was more than you were expecting. So, you just gestured for him to follow you towards the table of your friends where you stopped short a couple feet away. You sent a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure that Simon was still, in fact, there and hadn't pulled a Ghost and disappeared. But he was still standing there watching you when you checked. Which meant it was time for introductions... which you sucked at.

"Everybody, this is Simon. My lieutenant. Simon this is... everybody." You frowned at the crowded table in front of you. "You'll pick up names. It's alright that he joins us, yeah?"

“Of course.”

"Yeah."

"Oh, my god, yes."

"Take a seat, mate."

"Where you from, Simon?"

"Manchester."

"Ugh, he's a Manc! Moving on!"

You laughed as you squeezed into the booth with Simon next to you, trying not to touch him too much. "What did I miss? What are we talking about?"

"My husband is cheating on me." One of your friends announced dramatically.

Your eyes widened at the confession. "What? Really?"

"I suspect he is." She pouted, slumping forward onto the table.

"As if. He worships the ground you walk on. As he should. What makes you think he's cheating?" You debated whether this was a good topic to be talking about with your lieutenant sat right there. But then you figured that Simon needed some friends. And what was a better way to make friends than through some old-fashioned gossip?

"Late nights as work. Going to the gym a lot. He's not getting any fitter either."

You winced. "Ah, well that is quite damning."

"Yeah. I'm trying to build up the courage to just ask him about it."

"Yeah, confront him. If he's cheating then come to me. I know how to use a gun and hide a body." You winked at her.

"Sergeant." Simon's warning tone came from beside you.

"I'm kidding, lieutenant." You looked to your friend again and mouthed. "I'm not."

Another one of your friends spoke up, leaning on the table on his elbows. "God, you guys are so formal. Even during leave."

"We don't have to be. He refuses to call me anything other than sergeant. I think it's because he secretly doesn't know my name." You nudged Simon with your elbow and then, realising what you'd done, pulled back quickly. Maybe taking a break from the drink would be a good idea for a while.

"Not true." Ghost shook his head slowly.

"So you claim. Yet you've yet to refer to me as anything other than sergeant."

"It's fun watching you squirm thinking you have to be on your best behaviour all the time." He sent you a sly smirk, his eyes squinting just the tiniest bit.

Your jaw dropped. "I'm asking Price to reassign me. This is bullying."

"Wouldn't let Price do it." He countered, leaning in dangerously close.

"Who's Price?"

The both of you pulled back at the question and answered simultaneously. "Captain."

"Ah, okay. The one with the mutton chops, right?" One friend offered.

You nodded. "Right."

Simon huffed. "That's what you told them about Price?"

"It's his best feature."

"Christ, woman." He groaned, rubbing a hand across his face.

"Ooh, woman's a new one."

A friend volunteered in your defence. "To be fair, she's not allowed to tell us much. She usually gives us one identifying feature of every person she tells us about. So we can keep up."

"I'm assuming Soap is the fact that he's Scottish."

"Scottish with Mohawk. He gets two."

"What's Gaz?"

"Baby of the team."

"Fitting. Me?"

You stayed silent.

"What is it?"

You shook your head. "Can't say. Classified."

"Sergeant." His voice was harsh, demanding.

But you weren’t going to give in. "Lieutenant."

"I won't be insulted." His voice dropped to its familiar bored tone, as if trying to force the idea that it wouldn’t bother him.

That’s not what concerned you however. "Don't think you would be."

"Then why can't you tell me?”

"Just can't." Stellar reasoning, well done.

"I could ask them." He tilted his head in the direction of your friends, who were all watching you completely enraptured.

You didn’t back down, stare hardening at him. "Go ahead."

"Fine." He turned to the table. "What's my identifying feature?"

There was a moment of silence before someone gave in and admitted it. Traitors. "You don't have one."

There was a split second of delay before he replied. "She doesn't talk about me then?"

"Quite the opposite actually." One of your friends giggled.

Another stepped in. "Talks about you sooo much that you don't need an identifying feature. Just know who her lieutenant is."

"Besides, apparently you usually wear a mask. You have no features."

A raised finger of a counterpoint. "Arguably, the mask is the feature."

Ghost turned to you, almost smug. "You talk about me, sergeant?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Simon. You're good at what you do. I can appreciate that." You sniffed, rolling your shoulders back to force yourself to relax.

"Out loud? With your friends?"

You shot him an irritated look. "Get over yourself."

"Didn't say anything."

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "I know what you're thinking."

"I'm sure you do." He exhaled deeply, glancing away from you towards his drink.

Your own gaze moved back towards everyone else around the table. "Moving on! What else is happening with you guys?"

"Saw your parents a couple days ago. They said they didn't know you were home."

Well, that wasn’t the jollier topic you hoped to move on to.

A fake smile automatically set itself on your face at the mention of your family. "Fuck. What did you say?"

"Lied for you and said you only just got back. Might want to call them."

"I will do that. At some point.” Lie, lie, lie.

"Mhm, your sister had another baby as well. That's what? The fourth niece or nephew you haven't met?" There was a note of condescension in your friend’s voice.

You shrugged, knowing you had a decent enough reason. If your job counted as decent. "I've been busy. And it's only the second."

"We're not judging. Your parents might be though."

"Well, that's lovely to know." You slouched down in your seat. The relationship with your parents was… touchy, to say the least. Desperately seeking their approval for years had left the bond with them strained. And you being away from home so often definitely hadn’t helped the rockiness of it all.

"Also they seem convinced that you've met a military man and are going to come home engaged or married..."

Your face scrunched in disgust. "Oh, ew. What the fuck?"

Simon elbowed you harshly in the ribs. "We're not that bad."

"Share a bunk with Soap and come back to me on that." You snapped back. Your fellow sergeant was a snorer who regularly farted in his sleep. He was like your brother but man did you hate having to sleep in close proximity to him.

"Fair point.” He grumbled back to you. “But why are they under that impression?"

"They know I don't date civilians."

"Or anyone." One of your friends mumbled in her drink.

"Thank you.” You sent her a sarcastic smile. “So they think I'm after a man in uniform."

"Aren't you?" The same friend asked.

You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw. "In... theory."

"Not in practice though." She carried on, loving the way you were squirming.

"We know not in practice, okay? Doesn't need to be said aloud.” You spared a glance at the man beside you before adding a harsh whisper. “Especially in front of my lieutenant."

"I'm sure Simon is loving this."

"It comes with the job. Family troubles and no love life." He offered some of your words back to you from earlier, shrugging. You were glad of the support from him, even if it was only your own thoughts.

"You got any friends for her Simon? Anyone on the team you think she'd be good with?"

He shook his head. "Nah, not good enough for her."

Wait, what? Not good enough? For you? Since when did he have such a high opinion of you?

A friend of yours cooed. "That's sweet. If it helps, she's great in the sack."

You choked on the mouthful of drink you were taking, slamming your glass back down. "And how exactly would you know that?!"

"I shared a house with you in uni, babes. I remember all those guys coming out of your room with dazed smiles looking as if they'd just had the time of their life." She grinned at you slyly.

Eyes wide. Jaw dropped. Heart racing. "Oh, my god. Please shut up."

"You asked."

"I didn't need such a detailed answer!” You were ignored.

"Although you may be quite rusty at the moment. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

You covered your face with your hands. "For the love of everything that is good in this world, please be quiet."

"I'm just saying. We're all friends here, aren't we?" She laughed, mainly gesturing towards your higher up.

"He's my lieutenant!"

"Wait, Simon, are you single?"

You cut in before it could go any further. "Nope! Okay! So... sister? Baby. Parents? Delusional. What else?"

Everyone around the table chuckled at your reaction but moved on anyway, much to your relief.

"They're hoping you’re home for Christmas this year."

Your hand tightened around your drink. "I hope I'm not."

"Thought you'd say that."

Paying little attention to what your friend actually said, you mumbled to yourself. "That's fucking ridiculous of them. What the actual fuck?"

"We said the same." Mumbled loud enough for them to overhear apparently.

Simon looked confused. "What's the issue there?"

You failed to answer so someone else did for you. "They uninvited her to Christmas three years ago. Hasn't been back since."

"Why would they do that?"

"Didn't approve of her lifestyle."

He turned to you. "Your... lifestyle?"

"Murderer daughter." You bit back, bitterly.

His body tightened with tension. "You're not a murderer."

"Tell them that." You snorted. "Why do they want me home now?"

"Beats us.” Your friends said in weird unison.

"Wish they'd make their mind up over whether they want to disown me or not. It's exhausting trying to keep up."

The table laughed at that. Simon did not. But did he laugh at anything?

“I’m gonna get another drink. Want one?” He looked down at you, pointing vaguely at your almost empty glass.

“Uhh… sure. Thanks.” You smiled at him, which he obviously didn’t return. After briefly asking everyone else if they wanted anything, which they declined, he stalked off in the direction of the bar.

Once he was a few paces away, one of your friends practically launched herself halfway across the table and lowered her voice to a hushed whisper. "He's gorgeous, babes."

You decided to play coy. "You think?"

"You don't?" Her brow was raised in disbelieving accusation.

The coy act was dropped pretty quickly. "Oh, I know he is. Just didn't think you would."

"Well, I do. And he’s definitely your type, absolutely perfect for you. Plus he so likes you."

You scoffed. "No, he doesn't."

"He fancies the pants off of you!" She insisted.

You didn’t buy it. "I can guarantee that he does not."

"He can't take his eyes off you!"

"He has a staring problem." You shrugged, it was true.

"Yeah, the problem is that he can't stop staring at you."

You thought about it. Yeah, he stared at you a lot. But he stared at everything. Didn't mean he stared at you with... feelings or whatever your friends were implying. Just that he had a staring problem.

"Lieutenant Simon Riley does not like me." It was a finalised statement, one that you believed wholeheartedly.

"Open your eyes, babes. He likes you."

"Do you like him?"

Avoid answering. "Not allowed to like him. He's my lieutenant."

"That doesn't answer our question."

Shit.

"Maybe a little." You pinched your fingers together, there was no point lying to them, and shook your head. "Doesn't matter anyway."

"Why?"

"Because, say he did like me, he'd never admit it. And I'm not going to push him into anything. I'm just glad he's talking to me and accepting my attempt at us being friends." That was true. You were loving how he wasn’t completely rejecting your friendship. He maybe wasn’t embracing it but he wasn’t pushing you away either.

"That's so sad, babes."

"Cheers.” You deadpanned. “It can't happen anyway."

"Why not?"

"Relationships aren't allowed. Makes us a liability. My captain would reassign one of us as soon as he caught wind of it. And it would be me." The thought of Price reassigning you was horrid. You loved your team more than anything.

"Simon said he wouldn't let your captain reassign you."

That was true, he did. "He was joking... I think."

"I don't think he was. That man stares at you like he's ready to eat you. It's like listening to Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen in real life!"

Groan. "You watched Dirty Dancing again, didn't you?"

"Yes, but that's not the point. The point is that Simon looks at you with hungry eyes. And don't judge my love for Dirty Dancing." Two of your friends nodded in agreement with her.

"I'm not. I'm judging your favourite song choice when Love Is Strange by Mickey and Sylvia is clearly the superior song on the soundtrack." You said as you downed the last bit of your drink, thankful Simon was bringing you another one. Your mouth was dry and the initial buzz was wearing off. You’d need more alcohol if this interrogation was going to continue despite it probably not being the best idea.

"Blasphemy!” She declared before quietening herself. “Oop, we gotta be quiet now because he's coming back over. Simon!"

He froze in his tracks, a glass clasped in each large hand. "Yes?"

"Can you settle a debate for us?"

You froze too, wide-eyed. They weren't going to ask about him staring at you, were they?

"Sure...?"

You smiled at his unsure tone. Big, scary man who got shot at for a living was terrified of answering a little question.

"You've seen Dirty Dancing, yeah?"

You relaxed.

"I have."

Surprising.

"Which is a better song? Hungry Eyes or Love Is Strange?"

"Oh, I... uh-"

"Leave the poor man alone." You laughed despite being a little curious about his music taste.

"I always liked She's Like the Wind."

That shocked you to your core. "Patrick Swayze fan?"

"Used to have a mullet just like his." He placed your drink in front of you. "Here you go. You look surprised."

"I always am when you don't disappear. And when you admit to being a Patrick Swayze fan." You snorted, taking the drink from him.

"Learn to have a little faith, Sarge." He sighed as he sat down next to you again, an inch closer than before you were sure.

A burning feeling settled in your chest at the nickname. Sure, it was only a shortened version of your rank, and a common one at that, but it was something. Not sergeant. Not woman. Sarge. You decided to let it slide to see if he’d ever do it again of his own accord.

"Your name's Ghost for a reason." You sing-songed, the image of his mask flashing through your mind.

"I'll give you that. But remember, Simon here."

"Still weird."

"Still Simon."

You chewed the inside of your bottom lip before asking your next question. "Patrick Swayze?"

"He was blond."

"Like you, you mean?"

Hesitation. "Yeah."

You hummed and thought about him with a mullet. What an odd thing to admit to you. But you’d never complain. If Simon was willing to offer you little tidbits of silly information about himself, then you were going to absorb every single one and treasure them forever.

A/N: Simon with a mullet as a teen because he wanted to be Patrick Swayze when he grew up is canon to me now.

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: He Sat Upon a Throne of Pumpkin Pie [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: He Sat Upon a Throne of Pumpkin Pie [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: ... Mahito and a very special pumpkin pie

For Horrorfest request: Mahito and a very special pumpkin pie

Word count: 1149

Notes: Yandere, Mahito is his own warning, food related horror

The last thing you ever expected Mahito to set down in front of you was a pumpkin pie. 

And when you’d looked up at him in genuine confusion, the last thing you expected to see on his face was a look of quiet pride and contentment. No manic grin, no slinky smile. Simply a serious pleased expression that didn’t seem befitting of his usual moods around you. 

“What… is this?” You asked, as if it wasn’t evident by its appearance.

“I made you a pie,” he said simply, although perhaps not so simply, as nothing was ever simple when it came to Mahito. He turned away from you, and you heard the distinct sound of cutlery rattling before he set down a small plate, a fork, and a knife. 

The chair screeched when he pulled it back and sat down. He put his elbows on the table and simply stared at you.

“Well?” He asked, when you had evidently not moved quickly enough. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

Your hands moved slowly, feeling leaden, as you used the knife to cut a haphazard slice and lifted it onto your plate with a fork. He watched, tilting his head a little, as he was prone to do when observing you. 

On your plate, the slice of pie looked… normal. A subtle orange-brown color. Light brown crust. The filling was firm, but had a bit of moistness to it. 

Just a pie, a normal pie. 

Well, almost normal. The one peculiarity were the walnuts crushed up and interspersed throughout the slice.  You saw them in the cross section of the pie, now that you’d taken out a chunk. They looked a little burnt, but you suppose curses weren’t exactly prone to baking, and that was to be expected.

It was probably something he saw in a recipe book or on TV. He had been peeking at old recipe books lately, a stack he’d found in a box left on the side of the road. 

Mahito made a shooing gesture at you, and you broke out of your thoughts. 

“Come on, come on!” He said. His voice took on a whining tone that was at least more familiar to you than his unusual seriousness. “While it’s fresh!” 

And so, because you still had enough self-preservation to know that you should do what Mahito wanted, you scooped a bite of pie onto your fork and put it in your mouth, then chewed. 

He sighed almost instantly, a whimsical, dreamy sound, leaning his chin on his hand while he watched you eat. The way he looked at you was entirely unnerving, because he did not look in the least bit terrifying. Instead he looked at you like a man--a curse, you reminded yourself--enamored. Like you were the sweetest thing in the world. 

“I think I understand why people like to bake now,” he said, perhaps more to himself than to you. “Watching someone enjoy what you made…” He sighed again, his lips curling up in a smile. 

Although “enjoy” wasn’t quite the word you would use to describe what he’d made, even as you took a few more bites to placate him. 

The taste had the vaguest resemblance to pumpkin pie, you supposed. But it was more like someone’s idea of pumpkin pie, like it had been strained ten times over before finally being baked. 

Maybe he tried to make it from scratch and it wasn’t sweetened enough. Or maybe he’d over mixed or added too much liquid or baked it at the wrong temperature. You weren’t exactly a baker, and if you ever indulged in pumpkin pie, it was something you bought from the bakery. 

It wasn’t vile, but it wasn’t good or pleasant to eat either. A child’s first time baking in the kitchen. 

The walnuts were the strangest addition. They were burnt and their texture and taste was unusual. They weren’t crunchy, exactly, the way you expected a walnut (burnt or not) to taste. They had a slightly chewy texture, with an overlaying firmness. Like raisins encased in something, maybe. 

Maybe they were raisins… that would explain the overall unusual taste of the pie. 

“Mahito,” you said, dabbing at your mouth with the inside of your shirt since he didn’t see fit to give you napkins. “Are these walnuts or raisins? I can’t quite tell.”

Mahito blinked at you, his mismatched eyes holding an ounce of genuine confusion before they seemed to glint with an awful realization. And then his lips curved into a smile, the type of smile you hated to see, the kind that made you feel sick to your stomach.

He reached out and plucked one of the pieces from the cut pie, holding it with his thumb and forefinger. A bit of orange pie stuck to the edge of it. 

“I was able to make them smaller than usual,” he said, casually. “It took a lot of work. Especially once I started baking!” He pouted. “I had to go through a lot of kitchens before it came out looking this good… how does it taste?”

His words hit you low and slow. It took a while to put them together, like a puzzle you didn’t want to finish. 

“You were able to make… what smaller than usual?” 

And oh, didn’t a small part of you already know the answer? You weren’t naive anymore. Not after all you’ve been through with Mahito. What he’s done, what he’s made you do. 

What you’ve seen.

And now, what you’ve tasted.

Your tongue curled inside your mouth, the taste and strange, chewy texture of the--pieces--you swallowed lingering in your sense memory. 

The answer came but you knew it already.

“People!” Mahito popped the piece he held into his mouth and continued while he chewed. “I had to get a lot for this recipe. Did you know the recipe called for two whole cups of nuts? The people who make these books should be more considerate.” 

He closed his eyes and shook his head, an exaggerated mimic (but maybe it wasn’t a mimic, you thought) of annoyance. “It’s not like these ingredients grow on trees!” 

“Walnuts do grow on trees,” you said dully, thinking of the people he’d murdered and cooked and fed to you. How much did they suffer? (You did not ask yourself, ‘Did they suffer?’ Because you knew, from witnessing Mahito’s work firsthand, that they undeniably did.) Were they alive when he baked them? Were they alive–now? 

Mahito opened his eyes and widened them, unaware or uncaring of the turmoil roiling through your guts.  “Oh, really? Well, it was easier to substitute something else, anyway.” 

You shoved yourself away from the table, feeling the acrid vomit finally begin to climb up your throat.  Mahito made a soft sound of surprise--

“Don’t you want to finish your slice?” 

“No--you can have it.” You just managed to get the words out as you walked out of the kitchen, heading for the hallway and the bathroom.When you glanced back, his expression was back to that subtle pleasure. You half-wished for him to break out into a nasty grin. It was easier to stomach.

No pun intended. 

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

I went to the UDGxRaincode collab in Tokyo (twice!) I thought I'd share some pictures here.

This super cute sign was outside! Good thing too, the restaurant was a little hard to find. (The only reason I, the ultimate v3 fan, am not going to the v3 event is because I won't be in Japan anymore when it starts). My favourite thing about going to these events is seeing the people who dress up or bring their themed itabags and plushies, and there were quite a few folks doing that here!

The first day I got Komaru+Yuma fries and red meat set, it's hard to see but the bowl had a deep grey-blue cheese sauce which was pretty cool. On the right is the Servant!Komaeda+Hellsmile shortcake, and the drink was Yakou iced coffee. Genuinely really really good!!

I went back again because I messed up buying merch the first time. You could only buy merch when you ordered food, and the waiter would bring it to you as if it was food. It was actually really funny, watching them bring out just tons of packages on a platter for the people around me who were ordering like at LEAST 40 buttons at the same time. I think they were trying to guarantee their favourites and were going to resell the rest, probably at elevated prices...

My limited Japanese did not help me realize this... Aw well, I wasn't too upset to get to go again!

The second time I got the Monaca+Zilch icecream daifuku and matcha swiss roll cake. It was small but really good! The drink was a Nagisa themed "Caramel blue hawaii" which, I dont really know what that means? It was slightly carbonated, and I don't think I could describe the flavour. Despite not really liking carbonated drinks it was pretty good!

The front of the restaurant had a display for all the merch, so I took some pictures to share:

A "Placemat" (poster) and coasters! The placemat came with the meal, the coaster proportional to how much merch you bought.

Standees and buttons! The holographic buttons are rare and random, mixed in with the rest.

The stickerset was the only piece of merch not blindboxed! It comes with one of all of them. And lastly the acrylic cards.

These are the ones I managed to get! I feel super, super lucky, because Yakou is my favourite Raincode character, Jataro is my favourite Warrior of Hope, and Monaca is just really cool. Literally the only thing I would've wanted differently would've been to swap one of my Yakous for a Servant!Komaeda, but because there's one in the sticker set, I'm still super happy with how my luck ended up!!

No spoilers in the tags! I have not finished Raincode or UDG

[8myass]

.. sunshine .. pairing. jeong yoonoh/jaehyun x female reader genre. slight angst, fluff pov. second person (you, yours, yourself, etc.) synopsis. your ex-boyfriend still wanted to spend his birthday, and Valentine’s Day, with you. wc. 0.4k cw. slight stalker!jaehyun, ex-boyfriend!jaehyun tw. pet names (excessive ‘jae’ usage), second chance a/n. birthday boyyy. this is the first work in a series of works i’m completing and posting for jae’s birthday! it’s a week-long birthday writing event! i will post a finished piece for him every day between now (14) and the following wednesday (21). i just wanna say thank you to everyone who is supporting me and my works, i’m super excited to write these for y’all!!

Sitting in your bed, it was unexpected when your ex-boyfriend showed up at your door the previous morning. You were shocked, to say the least. You had every reason to kick him out, to yell in his face to leave you alone, just as you’ve done in the past, but for some odd reason, whatever that might be, you didn’t. 

He was now preparing food for you in your kitchen, knowing his way around the place like he’d been here hundreds of times before when you’d only just moved in a few months after the two of you broke up. You watched him for a good amount of time earlier, pretending like you were just curious about what he was making, but that wasn’t it at all. He knew where everything in your house was. He needed salt? Top shelf in the rack next to the fridge. Mixing bowl? In the cabinet under the sink, thrown in with all the rest of the pots and pans. 

You weren’t an organized person, but your kitchen was the place you stayed in a lot after you and Jaehyun had broken up. It was your safe haven, more or less. So when you realized he knew his way around your house, especially your kitchen, it made you genuinely curious about how he had gotten so used to navigating his way around your place like that. 

When he walked into your bedroom, taking his time and being extra careful not to spill the orange juice on the floor or let the plate slide off the tray before he could get it to you, you were grateful to have him around again after so long, always loving taking a break from cooking every now and again.

You sat up in your bed, letting him place your food on your lap as he sat down on the bed next to you, his own plate on his lap. You were shoving food down so quickly you nearly choked, giggling as you looked over at him with that smile spread across your face that he always adored, “It’s so good, thanks so much, Jae!”

You two talked and talked and talked, you had so much to discuss. You haven’t spoken since the damaging day you broke up, so it was odd having a full-blown conversation with him that didn’t involve screaming or cursing each other out or things being thrown all over the room in a fit of rage. It was calming, and actually very soothing. 

“I wanna be with you again,” he finally broke through the awkward silence the room was sitting in for a good minute, only making the awkwardness stronger and more present.

“Huh? Jae, we weren’t good for each other, you know that,” you sighed, locking tired eyes with his gleaming ones. 

“Nonsense. We can make it work, I promise you. I know how to treat you now, I know what I’ve done wrong in the past and I won’t repeat those mistakes. Please, just give me a second chance. I will make it up to you this time, I will be your perfect man,” he pleaded, all but dropping onto his knees with his hands thrown together in prayer.

“I… I’m not so sure, Jae. It’s a big decision, a big step,” you rubbed the back of your neck uncomfortably, taking a deep breath to calm your growing nerves. You did want him back, you still loved him. And today only made you all the more aware that you were still in love with the man that he was and always will be. 

“It’s okay to love me. Please, love me,” he frowned, genuine sadness filling his expression at the thought of you rejecting this proposal. You were so on the fence with this whole scene. On one hand, you didn’t want to take on the responsibility of working on the relationship and possibly taking all the blame when it doesn’t work out again. On the other hand, you do love him and you do want to work things out with him, or, at least, try to. “Consider it a birthday gift for your valentine boy.”

His smile was genuine and it sent butterflies all throughout your stomach. You couldn’t help but cave, pulling him into a hug, arms wrapped around his neck as your face buried into his hard chest, his own arms finding residence on your waist, “Fine, Jae, let’s make us work again.”

[voidandabyssal]

Meet cutes with the Fell boys!

Red:

Cafe meet cute: You're paying for your drink, before turning around you smash into the person behind you.

You topple over, landing right on your butt as your drink goes flying through the air and spills across Red's shirt. Immediately before Red can say anything, you jump up, desperately trying to apologise to him as you wipe away some of the dripping liquid off his shirt.

Honestly, he's just kinda shocked to silence. Red is used to responding with violence. When you jumped up, he was sure you were going to sock him across the face or something. His fists tense and jaw clenched in anticipation for a fight, the other Monsters in the area quickly ducknig their heads to avoid getting pulled into it.

But when you start wiping your hands across his covered chest? Yeah, he's got nothing, genuinely just doesn't know how to react. This is pretty embarrassing for him to yanno, he's got a reputation to keep!

"Sweetheart, Sweetheart, no worries, all is forgiven" he gives you one of his winning smiles, gold tooth flashing in the light. "If you give me your number of course" he adds on, watching you fluster around before finally agreeing.

Initially, Red doesn't think he'll bother texting you, really, he just got your number so he could keep up his bad boy reputation.

He gives in one lonely night, you were kinda cute looking after all...

And of course we all know how to goes from there

Edge:

You meet at the start of a cooking class. The teacher decides to pair everyone up. The goal of the lesson was to create a beautiful batch of macarons within a certain amount of time. The winning team would get a small prize.

At first Edge just scoffs at you and tries to take over your pairs designated section of the kitchen. He's taken aback when you push back on his leadership and start working against him.

The two of you stand at the edge of the kitchen, glaring at each other as you both mix your ingredients.

the rest of the lesson carries on awkwardly, at least for the rest of the class. The two of you are to busy competing against one another to really notice (or care).

Both of you are struggling by the end of the class. The teacher had created pairs for a reason. Eventually you give in, walking up to him.

"We should probably start working together again," Edge scoffs,

"WHY WOULD I EVER WANT TO WORK WITH SOMEONE LIKE YOU?! YOU CAN'T EVEN TAKE ORDERS PROPERLY!"

"Because we'll lose and the other students will win! duh!" you hiss out, leaning into his face. He blinks, he had not thought of it that way.

"VERY WELL HUMAN! WE WILL WORK TOGETHER, JUST THIS ONCE! I THE TERRIBLE EDGE WILL ENSURE OUR VICTORY AGAINST THESE OTHER WEAK FLESHBAGS!" you resist rolling your eyes but you get to work with him.

The two of you make a pretty amazing team. Quickly you finish off the macarons and present them to the teacher.

You do end up winning first place. You can't help but smile and cheer when you're both announced as the winners.

When you're packing up to leave Edge approaches you. Standing tall and regal as he usually does.

"HUMAN! YOU WERE AN EXEMPLARY HELP TODAY! YOU ARE NOT AS USELESS AS SOME OTHER HUMANS I HAVE MET." before you can interrupt he hands you his number and keeps his hand open, waiting for you to give him yours.

"WE SHALL COOK AGAIN HUMAN! OUR DISHES WILL BE LEGENDARY!"

You do eventually meet up outside of class, he was right, your lasagna dish was legendary

[cryptidcorners]

Biker!Mike Schmidt x M!Reader Headcanons

Description: Headcanons with your biker boyfriend, Mike!

Media: FNaF!Movie [ AU ]

Character: Mike Schmidt (+ Abby)

Tags: Biker!Mike Alternate Universe, Fluff, Headcanons mixed with Drabbles, Protectiveness, Established Relationship, Found Family, Cute Stuff, Semi-Domestic, Romantic, Comfort + Uses Masculine Terms

Warnings: Mentions of (Gang, Vehicle, Physical) Violence, Injury + Kidnapping, Slight FNaF!Movie Spoilers, Depressive Thoughts, Stress, Extreme Nightmares

read my TOS + Mike Schmidt Masterlist

Definitely a show-off, even before you started dating. He wouldn't boast too loudly though, he prefers to smoothly tell you how he got blackeye or some new asset on his bike. He always melts when you're impressed by his feats, even if they were from failure.

Mike's a collector. While cycling or suffering from boredom in his dull jobs, he'd swipe a few things that grab his attention and share it with you. He enjoys making chains for you and Abby. It hasn't been the first time Abby has been dragged out of school for wearing a pin with some questionable language Mike didn't notice.

Absolutely adores helping you dress up to resemble his biker wear. Loves helping you find bracelets, decorative eyeliner and rebellious-printed clothes. It makes me squeal eternally.

Gets intense anxiety in populated areas, mostly due to his trauma with Garrett. He doesn't want to think about anyone taking you or Abby away. He's stupid protective in public spaces. With his already intimidating demeanour, it's safe to say nobody bothers talking to you too much.

He enjoys using pet names, but he jokingly calls you "sir", "bro" or "boytoy" a lot. Speaking of which, Mike adores when you make up titles for him. It's something he treasures a lot. A special name for him? And him only? Makes his heart melt.

Takes you on bike rides at any opportunity. He also loves taking Abby in rides too and doing basic tricks with you watching from the sidelines. He's always careful, he could never forgive himself if either of you got hurt.

One of his favorite things to do is let you touch his hair. Nothing makes him happier than intimate moments like that. He likes it more than cuddling and neck kisses. It's just the simple things in life that appeal to him the most.

Wears the silliest shirts while he isn't at work or roaming the streets. Either quotes involving boyfriends or cartoon merchandise. It amuses all of you, but it genuinely makes him happy to indulge in a separate style. Definitely has a: "Men love me, Fish Fear Me" hat somewhere.

You're always at his aid when he comes back bruised. Like the first bullet, he'd calmly hum you an out of tune, over exaggerating story to make himself look good. Truly, Mike doesn't think he deserves you. So, he refuses to embarrass himself.

Loves kissing. That's all.

"Come on, Mike. I gotta go," you giggled as he pressed featherweighted kisses against your skin. You could feel him smiling before he pulled back with a heated sigh. "Just a minute, please? You know how much I miss you." With a playfully eye roll, you wrap your hands around his sides and hug him as he continued peppering you again while grinning sweetly.

Always referencing something. Either it's from a show or song he likes. He's always dumbfounded when you don't understand and ends up spending thirsty minutes rambling about music history.

Pulls pranks occasionally, mostly with Abby's help. A few prank wars have gone down in your household.

Has at least two tattoos based on you (and Abby), he takes his relationships very seriously.

Cried when Abby called you her "dad" once. This loser is so head over heels for you he'd sob if you were complimented him. It makes his heart throb to see you and his sister connect despite everything.

Very defensive. If anything goes wrong, he's either going to use grade school insults or result to violence. There were a couple of times he couldn't come home due to arrest. He'd come back as if nothing happened.

If you ever got into an argument, Mike would try to give you the most formal apology ever. Either by notes or heavily descriptive speeches about how special you are to him. Most of the time it was pretty cheesy, but you couldn't help but be smitten by his adorable attempts.

Much deeper voice + Slightly Childish. He's still pretty shy when he isn't in his element, so Mike is much more confident with you around. Mostly due to his need to impress you.

So much fist bumping.

Mike's bike is DEFINITELY named after you. Anyone who asks about it is immediately shot with dumps of his adoration if you. Bro will never shut up about his boyfriend. Ever.

Mike has definitely gone through those: "This is for you," and failed immediately. As much as it embarrassed him, he finds it cute how fond you were of it. His face flares up a lot around you.

"God, I'm so sorry I missed it." He frowned, face drenched with numb scarlet. "I didn't mean to make a fool out of you." Mike relaxed once you gripped his leather glove with a smile, "So? I still love you. I think it was sweet how you tried to impress me. I'm proud of you." Mike swore he was starstruck right there.

Loves holding your hand, even in public. It's one of the only forms of affection he's comfortable with displaying.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hello! Can I ask a jealous Hiccup bc f!reader spends time with the rest of the team (especially Snotlout)?

Plus, if you like, he does his best to get her attention and you end up confessed to her (a little bit of angst would be nice) <3

Thanks! I love very much how you write, I hope you have a nice day~

The Jealous One

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,170

An old friend starts to act odd. Snotlout is slightly less so.

Tags: fem!reader, jealousy, beginning of Snotlout friendship, ambiguous Post-first movie pre-httyd 2 timeline, part one

Next>

Your footsteps rung hollowly, the sound of thick leather rubbing against stone nearly drowned out by the distant sound of bustle and the ominous creaking of the Great Hall’s large doors.

Similarly, you remembered the way the wood sounded against your hard soles, the sound of the gently rushing water and mindless, careless chatter- how your heart felt as you very certainly ignored the small form of Hiccup and his Night Fury fading off into the skyline.

There was no one capable of avoiding your sour eyes as you meandered, feeling sort of potently, upsettingly upset in a way that you thought shouldn’t have been natural. It was so intense that you had no grasp on any part of the world, empty hands grasping at loose threads, slipping past all but the one that decided that, in this moment, you should struggle heavily against the full weight of years and more than a handful of nasty, lonely tears, all of which eager to burst past the safety of your eyelids.

You surely didn’t miss his griping, or his judgment, or any of his whining. You didn’t miss the feasts, the dark nights, the hiding away, the moping and you certainly didn’t- You didn’t miss- You grit your jaw holding steadfast in the same way a jailer did before a break, a warrior before he swung his sword, wishing dearly that you’d anyone else- any other friend. 

You wished you had some larger rocks to kick, too.

“Forgot my fucking coin pur-“ Your shoulders jerked as you startled, chests meeting with a force that was dull but no less breath-taking, not not nearly as startling as the feeling of stone cracking against the hard bone beneath your skin, the slamming of teeth against each other, deeper than you could have every though they could go, grit as they were, and the way the earth seemed to dissipate around you, making way for air and vertigo as you nearly slipped backwards down the stairs of the Great Hall.

 “Gods,” You hissed, thick bits of gravel digging into the sensitive skin of your palms, stinging as you lifted them. You pushed yourself upwards, running your hands down the backside of your skirts, urging away dust and grime.

You squinted. So we meet again.

“Watch it,” Snotlout ground out, looking quite annoyed with his arms crossed, standing as if he was a taller man than he was a step or so above you.

You glared at him… then you smirked. The first thing you noticed- Hookfang was missing. Absent.

It was surprising but not shocking. The Riders and their dragons had separate lives, of course, the Jorgenson Rider and his steed more so than the rest. Even as, in the minds of most, they remained so closely associated. 

Hookfang was quite the socialite, or at least a watcher. The Nightmare was also just as revolted with his Rider as he was foul when it came to others speaking ill in his presence, which usually made back-talk quite difficult. 

“What are you doing here?” You shot at him. It was a stupid question, a simple one. It didn’t matter what was siad, though, not really- it was more about the fight laying underneath, or the lack of, or the mix of both.

You’d been seeing him much too often nowadays, though truthfully, now more than ever, his face hadn’t been one you hated. It was as pleasant to look at as he was a wordsmith, which was to say that it wasn’t pleasant-looking at all. Still, it was a balm to your aching guts. And so, in place of genuine conversation, if his jeering was all you had to work with, you found you didn’t much mind it.

You’d never show it, though.

You took a determined step forwards, glaring straight into his eyes as other Vikings  came and went, brown-furred and tan-tunic-ed shoulders knocking into yours and passing through the open doors of the Great Hall like schools of fish.

Snotlout huffed, furrowing one large brow, open-mouthed frown exposing one large, missing tooth, “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

You adjusted your shoulders, stepping up with your other foot and crossing your arms, nearly meeting him chest-to-chest.

“None of your business,” You grumbled, feeling petty. “ Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I’m here for the grub,” Snotlout scoffed down at you, “That’s where I have to be. Not my fault you’re too busy skulking to watch where you’re going.” 

“I don’t skulk?” You asked incredulously. 

“Not in a million years, and unless you’re offering to pay, then I got no time for you, small fry.” He grunted.

You hid your wince. That was a nickname born only after Snotlout had trained his dragon and the Riders had fought larger battles. You resented it, sometimes, just as much as you embraced it. It was a token of something else, a name perhaps mostly meant to show you how little you meant in the grand scheme of things.

“Like you’re much of a catch, either,” You shot back gleefully, roughly huffing away your discontent. It was easy to smother as you rolled your eyes and grinned for the first time in what felt like a long while, forcing the ends of your mouth tightly upwards.

Snotlout scoffed at you condescendingly, looking up at you with his arms crossed and stance stout, cocky as ever.

“I don’t have a dragon,” You grumbled under your breath, feeling scales catch against the rough padding of your fingertips, struggling to keep a hold as tough muscle writhed like silk between your fingertips.

You tossed down the Terror perhaps a bit too roughly, wincing as it caught on to your sleeves with dull claws, spine twisting as it made a valiant effort to land on its feet. It was by some miracle that it landed anywhere else, meeting flesh instead of dirt or hand, quickly grabbing hold of Snotlout’s face.

You hid your grin behind a pitiful wince, watching an already grumpy, irksome viking become frantic below. The Terror screeched as Snotlout hurried to try and push it off, shouting and irritated, both of them flailing around, fingers scrabbling at claws which dug into his jaws and cheek in turn.

His pain brought you joy. 

It was a malicious joy, one born partly from the feeling of victory, something small and petty left over from an old, fading rivalry, the other majority born from the fact that you'd been dragged along on a chore that had never been yours to begin with and it was his fault.

Your thighs relaxed slightly as you shifted, straddling a thick bark body and wooden spine. You sat up high in the trees, leaning against an old, heavy trunk, feeling the points of any branches and the folds of leaves pressing against you through your clothes, feeling quite loathed to make things easy for him.

It was by the hand of a tall, burlish woman that you’d been rushed into your quest, lips nagging with such an intensity you’d been startled into silence, pushing as if the crying mouth of her child had been a timer by which she had been bound and had then bound the two of you.

She had been quite standoffish and brash, preoccupied and frazzled, yet sharp- one of the more warrior types, covered in armor with large spiked helmets. The kind who, when they eventually had children with the least suited fathers, looked awfully out of place, busy and regretful. 

You were sure, in a few years, her kids would be quite the hellions. You almost felt a little bad for them, between your efforts to wipe their spittle from your face and back far enough  away with enough time to spare to keep your hearing intact.

So, you almost hadn’t held it against her. 

Of course, you were about the right age to be a Rider, the only demographic who was, in name, saddled with a duty to manage the dragons, to change the minds of many in favor of the good of all. However, you weren’t one, though you doubted she cared much at all what creed you belonged to as long as someone got her job done and it didn’t have to be her. 

You found conflict in the sentiment the same way you found conflict in the fact that you’d been robbed of any of the benefits of any title that came from living on Berk- you failed to understand why their hardships fell to you as well.

In regards to Snotlout, this was the one instance in which he’d offered no rebuke.

So, instead of leaving, which you supposed would have been a very viable course of action, and not at all because you had nothing better to do, you settled for trouble.

You smiled as the Terror left a particularly hard bite on Snotlout’s nose.

“You know what you need?” Snotlout complained, roughly tugging a branch from his shoe, hopping on one foot as he kicked aside a particularly feisty yellow-and-purple Terror.

“What?” You hissed, glaring at him stubbornly. Privately, for all the trouble it had wrought, you thought it served the little pest right. 

“You need a dragon.”

You snorted, looking down at your hands. You wondered when you’d stop being dragged along on chores with Snotlout. It was becoming a pattern. “A dragon?”

You glanced upwards. You had an idea of the load- of the tasks, the jobs, the chores, but good Gods. It was nearly getting to be too much.

“It would make things a lot more convenient. For me.”

“If you can get me one,” You rolled your eyes and your neck, shoulders cracking as you picked a long stick-with-leaves out of your hair. “I would be happy to have it. But I’ve not had very good luck yet.”

“Then-” Snotlout seemed to pause, but only momentarily before yelling again as the Terror launched itself at him again. 

You shook your shoulders loose then winced, stepping  forwards again, a pain both dull and blooming bursting through the sole of your foot. 

You lifted it up, hopping and pulling up your sole to see a hefty thorn stuck right in the middle, squinting, using dull nails to pick fruitlessly at it, efforts half hindered by the setting sun and dimming light. 

“Meet me back here tomorrow. If I’m going to be stuck with you, then-” Snotlout lifted a finger into the air, quite clearly still off-put by the terror’s attack, something odd and purplish bleeding where it had split skin.

He inhaled deeply before stumbling off the path.

You waited for a moment, watching, before shrugging gaily and deciding that it was probably fine. The paths here weren’t that steep, you knew.

“Sure,” You said simply, continuing on your way walking down the path. You decided that whichever foul soul thought Terrors would be a great starting dragon for the children deserved to be hung. 

You promised yourself you would give Hiccup a piece of your mind later.

“-Right, yeah, uh, so, I- well,” Hiccup said, shifting from one leg to the next, before stilling completely.

It looked like you’d caught him fresh from flight-and-crash as the browns of his leather were more mud than hide. His hair was a mess, more of an ugly bed-head than wispy and windswept, though you found it endearing all the same. 

“Hey,” You scuffed your feet awkwardly into the dirt. You had dressed lighter for the occasion, something less green and blue- you glanced down before staring straight ahead, meeting Hiccup’s eyes head-on.

There was an odd, reddened, blotchy quality to his face in a way he hadn’t had since he’d just started riding Toothless, before soft, land-bound skin had gotten used to the winds whipping past his cheeks.

You were careful not to stare too long lest you somehow accidentally revealed your affections, thin as a spider’s web though just as elegantly woven, spreading wide and reaching many parts of you you’d rather keep hidden. In many instances, you found it entwined with a braid of bitter something, knotting and pulling, weighted. In the moment, you were most focused on keeping your basket, and therefore its contents, out of view and out of discussion. 

Your nose twitched.

Dragon-training, to you, at least, felt as if it was a personal affair. In that sense, to involve hiccup, someone who was, at this point, an outside part, felt most definitely like interloping, and so, in that sense, he was most definitely not welcome.

Though you doubted he would, if he asked, you would loathe having to explain, or having to come up with an explanation for, well, anything. It felt sort of wrong to share something your heart urged you to hold so preciously, Snotlout aside, and so, in that sense, like most of your precious things, it was of the utmost importance that you keep it hidden.

From Hiccup to dragons, precious thing to precious thing, an affection prone to hurt and a bond intended to be, new and violate- perhaps it was exactly Snotlout’s apathy that made him easier to deal with, the certainly that each of his words would be just as biting, an equal amount sharp, all just as meaningless. The lack of hope a balm, each word more flat ground than a toe teetering on the edge of a string, wobbling and ready to fall either which way.

“Let me just-” You shifted to the side. The two of you were standing face-to-face in the open door to the newly minted dragon stables.

There was plenty of space for you to move, though you did so more to graciously cut through the awkward atmosphere, to split the spell that had broken between the two of you as of late, though you were hard-pressed to understand why.

You met each other step-for-step as you attempted to pass, and through that there was born a sparking frustration in your lower stomach. 

You weren’t sure where the feeling had come from, or maybe you were, but in that moment, you felt foully towards him. You cursed him, who had shown his face just as you had begun to muster up some excitement for something new, with the audacity to look so dazed and joyful after having the gall to leave you feeling so alone for such a long time over and over.

His fruitless search for things nearby would lead him to leaving, you were sure- leaving permanently without so much as a care or a goodbye, leaving you destitute, with nothing better to do than butt heads with petty cousins… if he didn’t take the cousin with him, that was.

“You should stop giving the children Terrors.” You wanted to say something worse, feeling sort of haughty, mouth twitching as you made a considerable effort to smother all the bitter feelings broiling in your gut.

“Uhm,” Hiccup nodded, twitching to life suddenly, as if he’d just come back into himself, “Right?”

You crouched behind a sizable rock, one hand clutching tightly at a sharp, pointed ledge, nose wrinkling at the sour smell of fish which had followed you even long after you’d discarded your hefty basket.

You were on the far side of the island where most of the dragons here lounged, unclaimed. 

Dirt and sharp pebbles ground into your palm as you peered over the top, rocky ledge giving way to reveal a vibrant, blue-looking Thunderdrum. It was standing in a way that was quite posed, on all fours stout as it nosed around in a small clearing, strong breaths pushing against a healthy dusting of grass with each exhale. 

Despite its oddness, it was quite frightening. The dragon was sort of small in the back, but its jaw was large enough to make up for it, and it had a large, beefy set of arms for a Thunderdrum, which made you a little nervous.

Its mouth opened oddly to grasp the small strands of grass and leaves, its neck clearly not built for that kind of consumption. It ended up tearing up dirt whenever it pulled too hard or bit too deep, and whatever it could get ahold of was only roughly nibbled before being quite accidentally dropped.

Thunderdrums didn’t come into the forest that often, so this was your lucky break.

Maybe it will work this time?

“Are you sure this isn’t going to be too much for us to handle?” You shifted, scales shifting against your own hand, which was feeling both quite damp and warm, slime dripping from the ends of your fingers onto the dry crushes of grass by your feet. 

You hoped you’d be able to please at least something with your meager offering before it gave your fingers wrinkled, though you were afraid you were much too late. 

Most of your morning was spent speaking away from Hookfang, who gorged himself quite readily on your catch, watching cautiously all the while as if he knew the two of you were about to do something stupid, yet too bored to do much to stop it. The rest of it was spent putting your ancestors to shame, failing at a great number of things- finding a dragon most particularly.

“Like I said. I’m not gonna help you tame some lame dragon,” Snotlout scoffed, “I don’t do small fry, small fry. So are you going to get it or what?”

“Alright, Chief, keep your trousers laced,” It took you a considerable effort not to make an ass of yourself as you spoke, scowling.

You furrowed your brows with determination, setting your jaw assuredly, shifting on your feet behind the rock. Snotlout peered over the top too, horns sticking out obviously over the edge of it.

“So I just, what- give it the fish?” You asked, half in a whisper, “Should I, like, toss it, or hand it over, or…?”

“How should I know?” Snotlout asked exasperatedly, at a pitch that was perhaps just a bit too loud, “Do I look like the ‘Dragon Master’ to you?”

He asked that last bit mockingly, shrugging his shoulders exaggeratedly, using his fingers to make air quotes.  

“Are you serious?” You asked, gritting your teeth. “But you have a dragon.”

“Well,” Snotlout shot back. The two of you turned to gripe at each other, barely noticing as you were overshadowed, though not caring very much as to what was doing it, “That’s wimp stuff. Hiccup did all the taming.”

You opened your mouth wide, tongue lit with a scathing rebuke. Before you could respond, a loud, malicious, echoey rumbling seemed to fill the air around the two of you.

Slowly, you looked up, shivers, dread and the phantom of a cold sweat gathering around your temples and your spine. You heard the shifting of fur against helmet that dictated that Snotlout was doing the same. 

“Oh, Thor.” You managed to squeak, staring up at a long row of sharp teeth and a wide, angry blue face.