#Sorry just a quick disclaimer just in case. Hope you enjoyed!

[icallhimjoey]

Lost & Found

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader     Summary: You take a little break, a week away to somewhere warm to relax and calm your senses. So does Joe – same flight, same hotel, same travel plans and, worst of all, same suitcase. What was meant to be a lovely trip to the sun starts off on the wrong foot when you find expensive designer outfits belonging to a man in what you thought was your suitcase.     CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, lots of swearing, we get a little spicy but nothing too bad, 18+ just in case though!     Author’s note: I asked for requests and then used 0 of them – sorry – this is one of those things that started in a whatsapp chat and started living its own life fairly quickly. Wasn't meant to become a five-parter but, big sigh, here we are... I hope you enjoy this first part!    Wordcount: 3.4K  

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Of course. Of fucking course.  

Something always had to go fucking wrong, didn’t it? Couldn’t just be smooth fucking sailing for once, could it?    

Jesus fucking Christ.  

Joe massaged his temples as he let his breath escape through flared nostrils.   

Typical.  

He’s just flung his suitcase onto the bed, ready to charge what needed charging and to change what needed changing. The heavy bounce of it should’ve told him something was off.  

That wasn’t his. 

It wasn't his suitcase that he'd just flung onto his hotel bed.   

It looked enough like it, but his three-digit code didn't unlock it, and upon closer inspection, this one had a lot of marks on it that suggested it had been used a lot more and for a lot longer.    

Not his suitcase.  

Same brand. Same colour. Same model. Not his.  

He'd taken the wrong suitcase. Like the day hadn't been long enough already.  

The warm breeze had felt glorious when he'd stepped off the plane, the temperature balmy enough to really make him feel the difference when walked down the stairs onto the tarmac. The sun had been out, and he'd felt how it immediately relaxed his shoulders. It was exactly what he needed, why he even booked the trip in the first place, he thought, slipping his sunglasses down from the top of his head onto his nose.  

Sun. Warmth from up above that clung in the air that surrounded him.  

Was nice.

Lovely.

He'd gotten what he'd thought was his suitcase from the conveyer belt no problem, finding it quickly. Then it only took a minute to wait for a taxi that took him to his hotel. He'd booked a room in the kind of place you didn't need to leave at all if you didn't really want to – nice hotel restaurant downstairs, nice hotel rooftop bar upstairs, big pool surrounded by sun loungers outside and a view of the beach just behind it. Not quite a resort, but, kind of a resort, if you asked his mum. 

It was exactly what he'd needed. A few days away from the hustle and bustle of daily-life-sludge Joe felt he'd had a hard time wading through. Just a quick break to get his sun-starved skin some much needed vitamin D. Make the freckles that hid underneath his skin show up. It was the time of year when temperatures dropped fairly quickly once the sun went down, but the days were gorgeous still. The type of hot where you could sit in direct sunlight in the middle of the day without feeling like you were melting but still get tanned all over.  

Joe should've felt lucky, because that was what he'd been announcing to the world a lot lately. "I feel very lucky," over and over until it caught up with him.  

"Quick few days away will sort you out," his mum had told him over the phone, and mother's always knew best, didn't they?

So he'd just gone and booked it. Went, fuck it, this looks nice, I want to go there.

And now he was here.

He had five full days all to himself, travel days not included, in which he’d get to truly switch off a second. Enough time to listen to his favourite podcast for however long he wanted without being interrupted halfway through an episode. Enough time to finally get past page five of this book he’d started reading three times already. Enough time to work through his inbox at a leisurely pace. Have whichever drink whenever.   

Joe was meant to feel all lucky.   

It was just that... he'd just flung a suitcase onto his hotel bed that wasn't his, and... now what? The good bits felt all fucked up, the positive twisted, leaving him with just the negative frustrating shit. 

Trip fucking ruined already, and he'd not even been there two hours. 

All he had on him were his passport, his phone, a pair of wireless headphones that were running low on battery and his bank cards. He'd foregone bringing a backpack as carry-on, checking in his suitcase, and feeling very free as he'd walked through the TSA screening with barely anything on him.   

Now he regretted every single decision he'd made that lead up to this moment.   

Unbeknownst to him, you were just two floors up, in the same hotel, in a room that looked identical, also stood by your hotel bed. Difference was, you'd just opened what you thought was your suitcase, only to be met by a bunch of stuff that wasn't yours.   

You didn't own anything pinstriped. Or, um, Dior.  

You checked the code that you hadn't changed to open it – that wasn't what you'd set it as.   

That wasn't your suitcase.   

“Um, what the fuck?”  

Whoever the suitcase belonged to had shut it but then hadn't run a thumb over the numbered wheels to make sure anyone without the right combination couldn't open it – an idiot, you thought.   

And idiot with... very expensive clothes. Men's clothes.   

For a moment far too long, you just looked at what was in front of you and processed what this meant.

You didn’t have your things.

Your stuff.

No dress to slip into. No bikini to wear underneath.

Shit.

You'd have to phone the airline, let them know you'd taken the wrong suitcase. Yours had probably been brought over to lost and found, the owner of this one probably hoping his would be there too. Except it wasn't. It was a 40-minute taxi ride removed from lost and found, up on the 11th floor of a nice beach hotel. With you.  

Shit.   

You looked down at your own top, the stains from the bottle of coke that had sprayed everywhere upon the first cap-twist still evident.   

Fuck.  

This first evening you'd booked a table downstairs for dinner, and then were planning on having drinks upstairs to really make sure you'd knock yourself out cold until at least 10.30am the next morning.   

You threw an arm up and smelled an armpit.  

Rank.

Yea, no way you were going to do those things in the outfit you currently had on.   

"Hi, I have a question regarding baggage claim? Is there a service agent I can talk to? It appears I have taken the wrong suitcase by accident."  

Joe sighed as he got put on hold for a minute, only to be told later to please return the suitcase to baggage claim. He hoped they'd be able to give him any other information that didn't involve him traveling back there. Also, maybe a little info on whether or not his suitcase had been left behind and was now in lost and found, or if someone else had taken it.   

"Please find the baggage claim customer service desk, and we'll be able to help you locate your luggage from there." �� 

All right. Fine.   

Was he going to do that tonight? After just getting to the hotel, now hungry and tired and in need of some good food and a good night's sleep?  

No.  

Probably not the nicest thing, since, you know, someone else was likely also trying to track down what he was storing in his hotel room right now, but Joe had a dinner reservation for one he wanted to get to. Had scanned the menu online beforehand and was craving the steak tartare now. It just sucked he was going to have that in the same outfit he'd worn traveling there, as well as the rest of the night and the next morning.   

Deep breaths, Joe. Big gulps of air. Take a step back. Zoom out a little.

In the grand scheme of things... this was just annoying. Not the end of the world.

He'd fetch a spare charger for his phone from the front desk, have his meal, have a nice drink, and do his very best not to think about all the things that frustrated him for the rest of the night.  

But, that was easier said that done.  

Especially when, halfway through dinner, a pretty girl walked in wearing what looked suspiciously similar to one of his shirts.

Nah.   

Couldn't be.  

He was probably just seeing things. Was just looking because she was pretty. Was too tired. Had one drink too many.

Was grumpy about the fact that the only charger the hotel had for him didn't fit the outlets here, and they didn't have a plug adapter for him to make it work.   

Was more grumpy about the fact that you'd sat down in his direct line of sight. You know, since he couldn't just burrow himself into his phone for fear of the battery dying on him.   

Was most grumpy that the shirt looked better on you than it did on him.  

For fuck's sake.  

And he wasn't even sure if he even packed that shirt at all! 

For his own sanity, he convinced himself he didn’t pack it.  

Lots of people had shirts like it. Faded orangey colour. Striped. The one he owned probably wasn't quite as pink as this one. Or maybe it was... but, even so, it could be the exact same one, still didn’t need to be his. 

It was a little more difficult however, when upstairs at the bar, after the first sip of his gin martini, he saw you walk out in a jacket that he knew for a fact he’d packed.  

That was his jacket.

Stop it, Joe thought. You've gone mad.

Just a coincidence.

Big coincidence, though... wasn't it?

“you’ve overworked me, i should get another week” he texted his agent, blaming the fact that he was seeing things on that, and received a “lol no” in return.  

Joe was still annoyed the next morning when he climbed into a taxi, phone about to die any second now.

Had you been out the door about twenty seconds earlier, you'd have run into him.

Somehow, traffic turned the twenty seconds into over ten minutes. Joe was already standing by the baggage claim service desk, your suitcase on the floor next to him, patiently waiting as the lady behind the computer typed away with eyes stuck to a computer screen Joe couldn't see. 

You walked up, eyes on your phone, occasionally looking up for signs that pointed you in the right direction. You didn't even notice Joe, or your suitcase on the floor next to him. 

"At airport now, fingers crossed" you texted a friend, and got a quick, "it's there, it's GOT TO BE there" from her in response. It wasn't until the guy in front of you turned around, gave you a polite smile, and then did a double take for you to see it. 

Your suitcase.

"My suitcase!" 

"My jacket."

Oh.

Oh, fuck. 

You were standing in front of the guy whose suitcase you'd gone through the night before. Whose suitcase you did your best to pack so it didn't look like you'd gone through every single thing that was in there. Whose pinstriped jacket you'd thrown on because it was the morning still, a little chilly for... just his T-shirt that you wore underneath. 

You immediately forgot how to function as a normal humanbeing. 

Error 404: cognitive function not found.

"Um, I–I..." you faltered, blood heating your cheeks, and you saw how the brow of stranger in front of you slowly furrowed as his eyes scanned down your body. 

Fuck. 

Now, you see, in your defence... you were left to your own devices, just, all alone in a hotel room, unsupervised, with a suitcase that was full of special, unknown things. Lots of treasures and, expensive designer clothing... how was anyone to expect you to be sensible and not snoop? 

Of course you were going to be snooping.

You snooped.

Were a tried-and-true snooper.

It was just that... you hadn't just snooped, had you? 

Hadn't just let your eyes roam. 

You'd gotten your hands in there almost instantly. 

You'd called a friend, and explained your situation, and had then switched the regular call to Facetime to go through the whole thing together. Toiletry bag and all. Every single item had passed your grip, and you'd tried on more items than you dared admitting to anyone – the boyfriend-fit of every single item had made you consider maybe just... keeping a shirt.

"Fuck me, that looks good on you. Keep it." your friend only egged you on.

"I can't keep it," you said, checking yourself in the mirror before asking your friend to google for prices, wanting to know how much this had cost the owner of the suitcase.

When she told you, you took a moment to let that sink in before you said, "Yea, maybe I should keep it."

That jacket, or perhaps the one pair of jeans. Claim you'd just found the suitcase like that. He'd left it unlocked, anyway.

"Look at this, this... this is clearly someone on a business trip, there's suits, but then, look, he's got two-in-one shampoo and conditioner in his toiletry bag," you held up the bottle close enough to your perched up phone to show it properly. 

"Who takes shampoo on a business trip? Surely you just use whatever they have at the hotel?" your friend made a good point. 

"Especially two-in-fucking-one," you tossed the bottle onto your bed, next to all the other shit you were fishing out. Razor, nail clippers, a moisturizer of which you didn't even recognise the brand - very fancy.

"Men are insane,"

"Even the rich ones, apparently," 

"Especially the rich ones."

It'd been a good half hour of giggles before you'd decided you were just going to wear one of his shirts to dinner. Why not? You could fold it up nicer than the way you'd found it in there. You'd be fine.

He just... he wasn't meant to actually see you in his clothes. You were wearing literal proof of what you were desperately wanting to hide.

How were you going to talk yourself out of this? 

Were you just going to be honest? 

Look at him.

Of course you weren't going to be honest. This man would've made you nervous even if you hadn't shown up in his literal clothes, revealing you'd not just opened the suitcase to see it wasn't yours - you'd gone through it and were now wearing what was his.  

"Oh, excellent!" the lady behind the desk stood up and peered over the desk at the floor, at the two similar suitcases. "This will be a lot easier now," she stepped around with a little scanning device, scanned both labels that you, thank God, both hadn't touched. Imagine if you'd have ripped that off. You'd no idea what that would've meant, but surely it would have made the whole situation a lot more complicated. 

You were contemplating pretending to be crazy. Or stupid. Just really, really, really stupid. 

Shut the fuck up why did he not stop staring at you? Could he look away for just a second, maybe? 

"I didn't mean to– I only opened it this morning, I didn't have anything to we–" you rambled, stumbled through little white lies and stopped when you saw the faintest little hint of amusement on Joe's face.

"Are you going to sue me?" you winced.

"No," his smile grew, but he held out a hand. For the jacket, you presumed. 

"There, all settled." the baggage claim service agent smiled. "This one is yours, and this one is yours." 

"Thank you," Joe smiled at her – she'd done her job. You saw it was just him being polite before his attention turned back to you.

"Um, I won't sue you. But I would like my clothes back..." his hand was still there and you realised that you fully understood the body language, but hadn't actually moved to take it off yet. 

"Yes, of course! Sorry, I was– the plan was that I'd fetch my own suitcase from lost and found and then would change into my own stuff, and–" you squeezed your eyes shut, letting the jacket slide from your shoulders, knowing that you sounded absolutely insane. "You weren't meant to find out." you huffed a laugh, hoping that finding humour in the situation would make him copy it.

"Not exactly a water proof plan," Joe gave you a nod and looked at you a little apprehensively, head tilted down, as you handed over the jacket that he folded over his forearm.

"Well, had you not been here yet, I would've gotten off scot-free," you joked lightly, confidence creeping in a little as you raised your eyebrows at him just before kneeling down next to your suitcase and tipping it onto its side to open it.

"Ah," Joe nodded, all understanding, but his face quickly twisted in exaggerated confusion. "So... that wasn't you in my shirt last night?" 

Your neck cracked with how fast it snapped to look back up at him. Deer in headlights, eyes wide in shock, blush deepening. Had you ever felt sweat prickling in your pits before? 

"I–"

"And red jacket?"

Fucking fuck shit. You were such a fucking idiot.

"Red?" you focussed entirely on the wrong thing, but, what else was there to do in a panic? "No, t'was more of a brownish sort of–"

"Burgundy." Joe cut you off.

You looked at each other for a long moment where it took you a smidge too long to close the mouth you'd left hanging open.

My God.

You'd really worked yourself into a corner here, hadn't you?

"Is that... is that my T-shirt?" 

It got worse fast, though.

You looked down to see for yourself, eyes still huge, and for what? To check if you were still wearing the black T-shirt? You knew you were wearing his T-shirt. It was why you'd opened your suitcase in the first place, to fetch something of your own to change into. To take into a toilet stall so you could give him back what belonged to him, and if you were quick, give it back without pit stains. 

When you looked back up, you felt how the blush was now making your neck and chest break out in hives. There really wasn't a way out of this. Caught red-handed, you had no other choice but to surrender and admit to every single wrong choice you'd made. Not willing to speak the actual confession into existence, you let your arms move on their own accord and just... moved to take the T-shirt off. One of your arms disappeared into the T-shirt, out of the sleeve, and you were about to pull the whole thing over your head when you were stopped.

"No– no, stop, don't–" he laughed. Planted a hand on your shoulder – the one of which the arm was stuck inside the T-shirt now.  

You stopped, listening to his instructions from your kneeled position on the floor. 

Joe wasn't going to let you undress into just your bra in the middle of an airport. This was a weird beginning to his trip but, was it really that bad? He'd gotten his suitcase back. That was what he'd wished for ever since finding out he'd taken the wrong one, and now, it had been returned to him.

He'd gotten what he'd wished for.

So what if a pretty girl borrowed some of his clothes for a second? It probably only meant that some of it smelled nicer now. She looked like she felt bad enough about it, too.

No big deal.

"Are we staying at the same hotel?"

"I... I think so?" you sat unmoved.

"If you could leave that at the front desk, I'll just... it's fine, I'll pick it up there," the frown that graced this man's features earlier seemingly had been sarcastic. Or, he'd just turned friendly. Either way, everything about his face told you not to worry about it.

Well, tough. Fuck him. You were worrying. This was so awkward. 

You very slowly moved your arm back into the sleeve of the T-shirt and then moved to close your suitcase. 

"Okay," your voice had never sounded thicker with hesitation.

"Okay?" Joe laughed.

"Yea," you sighed. "Yea, all right. I'm sorry." you winced as you clicked your suitcase shut and got back up onto your feet.

"It's fine." Joe waved a hand, dismissing the whole thing. You thought that was just to make you feel more comfortable, because you were very clearly going through it. For good reason. Had you been in his shoes, you would've told yourself off for the shit you'd pulled.

"Looks better on you, anyway," 

And like you weren't red in the face enough already, the snort laugh that escaped you turned you purple whilst simultaneously breaking any and all tension.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddie-joe-munson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frogers, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @ohmeg, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thefemininemystiquee, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @yelyahcardella

taglist currently full, sorry

[theyanderespecialist]

Abel's Baby Mama (Headcanons) Yandere Baby Daddy SCP-076/Abel X Pregnant Reader

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am running late on writing this, so sorry if I am a bit rushed. Anyways let's do this! hope you enjoy this!]

(Disclaimer: Abel is most likely AROACE in canon and does not need or have the urge for or have a desire for Romantic or Sexual Relationships. But in this let's pretend the fighting machine can feel it kk? Anyway, he is not yandere in canon! This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life. Remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! thank you!]

-Headcanons With Abel Aka SCP 076-2 X Pregnant Reader From the SCP Foundation Online Community-

.Abel had never wanted anyone in his life. That was until he met you. 

.he wanted you and wanted you to be pregnant with his children. 

.so he had been quick to impregnate you. 

.You are the woman of his desires and he would easily want to have offspring with you. 

.Which he will train them to be strong warriors.  

He would be the type of yandere to be very protective over you while you are pregnant. 

.He was raised being one of the first children of Adam and Eve. So he has some old-fashioned ways. 

.Such as being the provider and the protector and that as the woman in his life, you needed to have the children and be his support. 

.So he would want some of those traditional values. 

.His WAY protective side is extreme! In which he does not like to have anyone near you. 

.He also does not like you away from him so he would want to have you by his side at all times. 

.He would end up doing his best to work with the foundation so he can get his containment cell upgraded and that he can have a nice little home for you, him, and both of your children. 

.If anyone tries to get too close to you he gets very possessive and pulls you close to him glaring at the person. 

.If the foundation tried to take you away from him he would go on a murdering spree until he can get to you and keep you safe and sound. 

.He also only wants you and becomes very jealous and very serious. 

.Who does not want to share you with anyone and he demands to be with you in all doctor appointments. 

.If those doctors did anything wrong they would at least have a broken hand or worse case be dead. 

.He would also do a shit ton of research on a healthy pregnancy as he knows that times have changed and he wants the best for his children. 

.He does not mind if the babies are girls or boys, he will treat them the same and raise them to be warriors. 

.Of course, he is going to be protective of them as well and not expect them to go into battle until they are adults. 

.He is realistic with this. 

.When you have morning sickness he is not grossed out about it, instead, he is helping you feel good and holding your hair back. 

.He also would take care of you in any way shape or form. 

.May it be cooking healthy meals for you, and massaging any aches you have. 

.He unlocks a very caregiving side as he is obsessed and in love with you, and you have the amazing job of carrying future warriors. 

.So he needs to be the man and to support you when you have the job to carry his kids. 

.He paces a lot when you do have to leave without him. 

.He cannot stand being away from you and would sometimes break out of containment to find you. 

.He is still very murderous but being with you does mellow him out a bit. 

.Which the foundation takes advantage of. If they can control Abel with his girlfriend aka baby mama aka you and his future kids then they will throw you to him and he will be able to keep you. 

.Your fate is sealed once Abel knows you are pregnant, so maybe do not tell him that you are. 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS another chapter done! I hope that you all enjoyed this! 

I will maybe do a scenario on my youtube ASMR reading of this! So check it out and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!] 

[hexgaywire]

"Taking Care of You While You're Sick" (HC)

[Nijisanji EN Boys Edition]

Ft. Vox Akuma, Sonny Brisko, Ren Zotto, And Hex Haywire

-------- ••• ------- ✧ °✧° ✧ -------- ••• -------

Disclaimer and Reminder; this is based on the characters made by NIJISANJI, not the people behind the character voicing them. If in the future the person expresses or states that fics of this nature makes them uncomfortable I will 100% remove this or anything I write about the characters involved.

F,M,GN?: GN

Warning: Ren swearing like once? Other than that none

Word count: 958

Authors note: Listen if I had to pick one man from each group to take care of me it would be these four. I'm being selfish, I'm sick, and biased but I hope you enjoy regardless. (This is also really short, I wanted to write some feel good stuff, I'm sorry)

Reminder that my requests are open! If you wanna send me one please do!

-------- ••• ------- ✧ °✧° ✧ -------- ••• -------

Vox is very observant and notices you're a little off right away

He takes to canceling whatever he and you have on your schedule today

You have errands to run, laundry to do, homework to do? Too bad you've been bed ridden

He refuses to let you put any stress on until you're 100% better

Vox takes you home and sets you up to be comfortable

"I have to make a quick run to the grocery store, call me if you need me for anything"

He really was quick because it couldn't have been more than 15 minutes before he returns with an arms full of groceries

He fixes you a cup of tea, checking your temperature while you sip on it

Vox rummages around in the groceries and pulls out some fever reducers and gives them to you to take

While you relax he makes you the best soup you've ever had

You didn't realize how hungry you were until you ate, Vox is just happy you're enjoying his cooking

Vox insists on staying the night and won't take no for an answer

He may be a (voice) demon but he's a demon who cares for his clan

Sonny works a lot so he's a little slow to figure out your sick

It was a cough in the middle of a sentence you tried to suppress that got him

Once he realizes your sick, similar to Vox, he sends you home immediately making sure you are not doing anything else except for focusing on getting better

He ties up things at work quickly so he can come over and take care of you, he even takes a couple days off just for good measure

You're not expecting the VSF Commander knocking at your door with your favorite comfort food, meds, and vitamins

But you know it's always welcome

After he makes sure you eat he cleans up for you and then suggests you go lie down on the couch

Sonny does some light food prep for you so you don't have to strain yourself when your hungry

You fade in and out of consciousness while you watch Sonny Brisko putt around your home taking care of little things

When you eventually drift off to sleep he gently checks your temperature with his hand and deems you stable enough to carry to your bed

After tucking you in he can't in good conscience leave, what if something happens??

Sonny grabs a wet cloth to place on your head and eventually sits by the edge of you bed to watch over you

He too eventually passes out and when you wake up you see him there...

You feel safe and cared for knowing Sonny is at arms reach, just for you.

Ren is still learning about human culture

So when your voice comes out horse, he laughs and asks

"What's up with your voice?"

You explain to him that you aren't feeling well today and apologize

"YOUR SICK!? Oh shit uh I've been told about how to deal with this! Let me help you? Please."

How could you say no to him

Ren whisks you away to your room stating it was crucial for humans to get plenty of rest when they aren't feeling well

You can't argue with that and tell Ren you'll take a nap

Once he's sure you're asleep, he runs out to the pharmacy

He returns with almost the entire pharmacy, just in case....

You awake again when Ren places a towel on your head

He smiles down at you hand hands you some water as you sit up

"Staying hydrated is also important when you're sick, the towel thing is also important for... something probably"

You laugh as he rustles around grabbing something else

He hands you a fist full of pills, that's when you notice the stack of medicine boxes behind him

You gently explain to him that taking that amount of medicine could potentially make you more sick

You list off a few medicine names and he hands them to and you take them

"I guess I still have a few things to learn when it comes to taking care of humans..."

You gently squeeze his hands and thank him for being here, because being sick alone is scary

You're lucky Ren is here

Being sick often, Hex hones in that your feeling sick before you do

"You should head home. You're sick."

You're dumbfounded you had stuff that needed to be done, but your thoughts of work are interrupted by the oncoming of a splitting migraine

Resigning with a sigh you excuse yourself to your home

Not two minutes after you settle into bed you get a knock at your door

You're greeted by Hex carrying his favorite soup for the both of you

You invite him in and he asks you to sit and he'll grab anything you need

While the two of you eat Hex turns into a mother hen and asks you for all your symptoms and how your feeling, constantly checking on you

Hex is honestly an angel, he cleans up after you eat, grabs your medicine from your medicine cabinet, he even offers to do any chores you need immediate help with

You feel selfish for making him worry

He assures you that you'd do the same for him, you have done the same for him

It's the least he can do to help ease the burden while your sick

He helps you back to bed and meekly asks if you want him to stay

You'd be honored to have him stay especially since he's such a good caretaker

You thank him for his help and again he says he's just happy to look after you

-------- ••• ------- ✧ °✧° ✧ -------- ••• -------

[candywife333]

Wife Is Life

PART 3 of Fish-wife or No wife

Summary: Did Jungkook have a wife? The rumor mill had been churning for years, divided on this one topic. He was a successful worldwide pop star who was always seen with a different lady on his arm, as he flitted from country to country enjoying his prolific career. The reason for the lingering suspicion was a cryptic social media post showing a picture of 2 kids who shared the same exact eyes and smile as him. So in fact, if he truly did have a wife, who was she? And why had the public never seen her? Perhaps she didn't wish to be seen.

Description : famous pop-star/idol jungkook x chubby y/n , might be two-shot or trilogy

Disclaimer: The character of Jungkook shown in this fanfic does not accurately represent Jungkook's true personality or actions. Please treat this story as fiction.

Sorry for the little to no proofreading, have a lot more works lined up to post

Will have more drabbles of this couple lined up though this is the last official part.

It was 7 PM when I was startled awake by loud snoring. Damn, the man snored like a hibernating bear. I can't believe I let him touch my body. I should not have done that. Mentally reprimanding myself for poor decision making (though I truly did have little decision in the matter), I pried myself from his hold and went to take a quick shower. After a refreshing shower consisting of washing out all the cum he had pumped into me, I walked to the kitchen to see Mrs. Jeon reading a book on the couch.

"Hello auntie, how is your book so far?", I timidly asked. She smiled real wide as she saw me, pulling my hand to sit next to her, "Going well dear. Have been wanting to read it for ages but never got around to it till now". I nodded with a small smile on my face. "Auntie, I will be going out to briefly check up on the house in this neighborhood. It is just a quick 5 minute walk. Can you just take care of the kids in case they get up in between"?

Mrs. Jeon quirked her eyebrow slightly up, quietly whispering," Do you not trust them with Jungkook?" I smiled at her in a perfunctory manner, feeling a little soulless, "I honestly am not sure. He seems to only be interested in them for the time being. I don't think I can count on him to be a true father since he has not shown up for either of them consistently. I will be getting everything ready to shift into the linden house tomorrow morning". I sighed, feeling weary all of a sudden staring into Mrs. Jeon's eyes with resignation and acceptance, "I knew this marriage was a farce from the very beginning, so I never expected anything from him. I just hoped that he would visit the kids regularly. That was honestly it. You see Mrs. Jeon, ours is not a typical marriage. We just fulfilled each of our needs at the time. He found me, to take care of Iro. And I took his help to gain financial stability and have children that I could call my own".

She pensively stared back at me, with a sadness reflected in her eyes, face frowning slightly. I smiled in a reassuring manner and pivoted to grab my phone and wallet, walking out of the house to briefly check up on how ready it was. After seeing the house in perfect condition since my brief visit last month, I did some cursory cleaning so the kids and I wouldn't suffer allergies. It was a two story house with 5 massive bedrooms, a gym room, cute well equipped kitchen, and beautiful views of trees through all the windows. Imagine a house that looked like a winter wonderland, waiting for Christmas to blanket it; enveloped by berry, maple, and fir trees.

Walking back into the Jeon's house, Mr. Jeon opened the door for me with a soft smile. And to my distinct surprise, I saw Jungkook feeding or shall I say, attempting to feed Mari and Iro some pumpkin pudding that Mrs. Jeon had made. I walked in silently, and patted him on the shoulder , "Thanks for helping feed them. Both of them sleep early, so it is truly perfect that you are feeding them right now". He stared at me as if he were deciphering the contents of my soul, even as Mari jabbed her tiny finger (honestly resembling a claw at this point) into his sturdy chest. "Of course Y/N, it really is no big deal". I ate a light dinner , a bowl of lamb and potato stew with udon noodles.

Grabbing the kids from my Jungkook, I walked back to the bedroom. The kids easily fell asleep as they usually tend to once they are fed. Brushing and getting ready for bed in some shorts and a tank top, I slipped beneath the covers ready to doze off. Before I knew it , I had drifted off to sleep.

I woke up to Jungkook's heavily muscled arm wrapped around my waist, and his legs trapped between mine. His head was laid up on my left breast and I could feel his breathing on my nipple. Arousal was starting to pool in my underwear and my left nipple stiffened with the warm air of his breath flooding it. To make matters worse, his groin was rubbing against my wet core. I gasped as the small pleasure started to build in my core.

I had to get out of his grasp no matter what. I carefully detached myself from him. He had the notion that he could seamlessly slip into my life when our arrangement never included physical love. Even if he became a proper dad to the kids, I was not letting him fuck with me. The man showed how irresponsible and inconsistent he was. Actions speak louder than words. I quickly wrapped my hair into a bun, brushed, splashed my face with water, and changed into a blue cotton sundress.

I hadn't unpacked much at all, so I shoved whatever was out back into the two suitcases I had brought. Grabbing Mari as she slept, I gently woke up Iro and cleaned his face. Thank god Iro was a quiet child. We slipped out the bedroom with the suitcases and saw Mr. and Mrs. Jeon making breakfast.

I grinned, "Good morning auntie and uncle, just going to shift over to the linden house. I will feed the kids breakfast and we will go over there. You guys should come over for lunch, I will have a whole gourmet selection ready for you ". They laughed at my demand. After getting Iro to eat something and shoveling down some oatmeal myself, I packed some food for Mari and drove over to the linden house with the luggage.

Mari got up in between and I bathed both the kids as soon as we walked in. I let out a huge breath in relief, finally I would have my own breathing space. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon were lovely, but I did not want to constantly be around Jungkook. He had taken yesterday's advances, as a way to weasel into my bed. I started working on making shrimp stew, rice, fried omelettes, tonkatsu and some curry.

I was used to cooking since I was 16. It was a therapeutic activity for me. Finishing in a record time of 2.5 hrs, I took a quick shower myself and called Mrs. Jeon over. I didn't know that a hectic hodgepodge of erratic events were happening in the Jeon house in between.

Mrs. Jeon wacked Jungkook with a broom handle, "Get UP YOU LAZY BOY!!!!! GET UP!!! GET UP!!! Go get yourself cleaned up and read for lunch. You have a wife and kids to get back". She sneered , menacingly at him as slowly got up in a confused state, doe eyes wide open, puzzled by what his mother meant. "What do you mean mom? Aren't Y/N and the kids at home. Where would they have gone?"

Mrs. Jeon shook her head in disappointment, a frown on her face, lips pinched in irritation, "Your Y/N is a very independent, reliable girl. She bought the linden house before coming here and she moved into it with the kids this morning itself. She invited your father and I over for lunch. Clearly she wants to keep family bonds, but you are a miserable father and husband. If you didn't want to be a good husband, you could've at least been a good father. But no, you chose to fail on both counts". Ceaselessly shaking her head, she walked away before yelling, "YOU BETTER GET YOUR RANK ASS SHOWERED AND READY FOR LUNCH. SHE DIDN'T INVITE YOU FYI, BUT YOU ARE GOING ANYWAY, WE ARE NOT MAKING LUNCH AT HOME"!

With those biting remarks, Mrs. Jeon left Jungkook alone with his dismal thoughts. His wife had clearly not accepted him back, even as a father to the kids. He scoffed , of course she wouldn't. He had been such a horrible dad, not seeing his kids as they were growing up. Even when he was told that Mari was born by her sister Wei, he wasn't bothered at the time. He almost wanted to sit there crying the rest of the day, remembering her cute toothless little chubby face.

He showered rapidly, running to the door as his parents planned on walking over with a basket of red bean filled pastries. Y/N opened the door in a light pastel yellow dress littered with a pattern of violets, and simple diamond studs. She was classic, a beauty , and she was the moment. Her curled hair cascaded down her backless sundress. Jungkook swore his mother slightly gasped when she first saw Y/N. As soon as Y/N saw Jungkook, her beaming smile faded into an indifferent nod. He hated that he had made her that way.

She pushed his parents toward the massive oak table with a beautiful view of the garden. The entire house was filled with paintings of forests and gardens, with a small collection of creepers winding around the staircase leading up stairs. The views were also ridiculously impressive, with trees looking close to a hundred years old shading the entire house, yet still allowing sunlight in. Jungkook could tell this property was super expensive, more so than the one he had bought just from the interiors and the 3 acre garden encompassing the entire circumference of the house.

Y/N had made bank, and she might not need him anymore. He started perspiring , beads of sweat lining his forehead as he frantically thought of how easy it would be for her to delete him from her life. She was emotionally stable, mentally strong, had his parents on her side, and financially rock solid. She could easily marry a more reliable, doting husband and leave him out of the picture.

Not able to control his panic, Jungkook was barely able to eat a spoon of the stew before he excused himself with a trembling voice, "I need to use the bathroom, one minute". He booked it to the bathroom, not even able to take his eyes from the ostentatiously furnished restroom complete with a settee and potpourri. Since when were bathrooms so big that they contained sofas and potpourri?!!

Y/N was confused at his abrupt exit from the dining table. It had been five minutes since Jungkook had stumbled away in a hurry. Y/N decided she would check on him in case he needed anything. "Give me one minute auntie and uncle, let me just check on Jungkook". They nodded , consumed in eating their food and feeding the kids. Y/N walked over to the bathroom and rapped on the door, "You ok there Jungkook? Need any help finding toiletries"?

Before she could take in another breath, the door opened with a frantic Jungkook who was shirtless, pants loose. An extremely defined arm grabbed her around her waist and whisked her inside the bathroom before she could even yell. Hitting on his tan glistening chest, Y/N sharply demanded "What the hell are you doing? Let me go. What is your damn problem? Did nobody teach you manners growing up?"

Jungkook grimaced, seating Y/N on his lap, her dress shoved up all the way to her waist, chest heaving, hair in disarray, " No Y/N nobody did. That is why I cannot resist you and am driven to utter distraction by you. Ever since I saw you at the door with Mari in your arms, I have been spellbound by you. You are an enchanting, gorgeous woman and I should've seen that earlier. I used to hate on you and shame you for your body to my Hyungs. But the minute I felt you in my arms, and saw you with my babies, I wanted to kill myself for my senseless and false words".

Even as I continued beating on his chest to release me, angered by him body shaming me in the past, he fixed me to his lap, restraining my arms making me grind on his lap, his hips guiding me into a blinding rhythm. I bit out with sheer venom, "Then why don't you divorce me and marry a model instead? I don't need your money anymore, and we can share custody of the kids. If seeing my body disgusts you, there is no point continuing this". Hearing those words broke Jungkook, how could he leave this beautiful caring woman alone for some vapid shallow model? Was she so stupid that she couldn't understand how much she meant to him?

Clearly he had never verbalized enough how much she drove him nuts. When Jungkook was in a depression after breaking up with the Spanish model and having Iro at his doorstep, Y/N had swooped in to the save day. Seeing her treat Iro as if he were her own son for two years had made him love Y/n so much. He had just never wanted to get close to her and get hurt. He knew in his soul that if anyone would break him, it would be Y/N. When he married Y/N, he never even touched a woman after that. He would have escorts who he would take to galas and work parties, the tabloids going nuts at his hired companions.

Finally having Y/N in his arms, he couldn't hold back anymore. Tears streaming down his face, he undid Y/N's dress zipper throwing it over her head. Y/N couldn't even fight back against his skilled quick movements. Making too much noise would alert his parents and her kids. He desperately shoved his face wet with tears between her breasts. His calloused hands squeezed the perfect globes of her butt, getting her to slowly grind on his cock.

Y/N couldn't hold back as the sensations overtook her. She moaned quietly as she could feel Jungkook kneading at her waist as his tongue traced her collarbones, littering tiny bits all over them. Y/N attempted refusing, putting hands on his shoulders to push him away, "No Jungkook we can't do this. I don't know how many women you have been with". Jungkook warbled back , "No Y/N, you are the only one since I have married you. I tried avoiding you, but seeing the kids and you have made that impossible. I was a horrible father and husband but I will make it up to you and the kids no matter what".

Not able to control himself, Jungkook came in his pants with Y/N heavily panting on top of his lap ,completely naked. He stared at his wife, amazed at her beauty. He would never leave her or the kids again. Y/N retorted back with a quirk of her lips, eyes shining with promise and mischief, "So is that it? That was all you had for me after so many years"?

Jungkook growled back , black eyes shining into hers, mouth smirking, grabbing her hair in his hand to bring her face closer to his, "Of course not my darling", kissing her in the mouth thrusting his tongue into hers, "This is just the beginning".

[quixoticall]

To Hell I Go

MASTERLIST // PROLOGUE

Suggested Listening: Anything Zach Bryan but particularly, “Open the Gate”, "Nine Ball" and “Oak Island”

WC: 6.9k Chapter Warnings: Gun violence, injury, a bit of Billy redemption I'm sorry idk how that happened, major character death (not really tho) p in v smut, oral (f and m receiving), barn sex, Steve and Sunshine being sassy with each other, parental death

Author’s Note: Hi!!! First, I want to say how grateful I am for the positive feedback. I love writing this story and I am so glad you enjoy reading it so far!! I wanna give a quick disclaimer, I did minimal historical research and am mostly going off vibes and the fact that I’ve spent most of my life in the American Southwest/South and come from a long line of cowboys and ranchers.

Reblogs and comments are always cherished and they are incredibly motivating!

“Excuse me, Miss, I’m hoping you could help me.”

The seat next to you shifts, bringing your attention away from the blurs of jagged mountain edges and gnarled Joshua trees you were watching from the train’s window.

You turn towards an unfamiliar face: angular and delicate, framed by tawny hair that’s cut much too short to be decent on a young woman.

You know better than to call attention to yourself so you just nod politely and hope this interaction is brief.

If your demeanor comes off cold, the girl does not seem to register because she launches into a flurry of words.

“I’m with the Sheriff’s office and few towns over, see, and there’s been a slew of train robberies recently. Have you heard about them?”

You shake your head minutely, your eyes stay trained on the cabin door, hoping Max comes back to pull you away from this interaction.

“Really? You haven’t? It’s all anyone can talk about! There’s been a series of train robberies around Fairbanks and Wilcox. Passengers have been robbed of their valuables and once they even robbed the safe onboard. We reckon it could be the Creel gang but we don’t have too much evidence—“

“Pardon me, but what Sheriff are you working for exactly, Miss…?” You cut her off.

“Buckley. Name’s Robin Buckley and I work for Sheriff Hopper, of course, have you heard of him at least?”

“Can’t say I have. What exactly do you do for Sheriff Hopper, Miss Buckley? It’s unusual for a young lady to be working for a sheriff is if not?” You query. But then again, the girl, herself was unusual, dressed in a man’s shirt tucked into a patchwork skirt with a pair of trousers peaking out underneath and talking fair more than appropriate.

“Well… I’m his secretary of sorts and his deputy’s too.”

This catches your attention and once again your eyes glaze over the peculiar girl. If she was here it was likely Steve or Hopper would be too and if that was the case, you had to lay the lowest of lows. Your eyes scan the cabin of the train, looking for any sign of the sheriff or his deputy.

“What is it that you do, Miss?” She stutters out, blushing under your gaze.

“I’m a governess,” you explain, smoothly, rehearsed. “My ward and I are traveling to California currently.”

It’s the role Creel had assigned as part of his plan. You the governess and Max your ward.

It was a deceptively simple plan: you and Max would board the train, disguised as harmless members of society. Then, once on board, Max would sneak off and make sure the luggage carriage was unlocked from the inside giving Tommy and Carol the opportunity to sneak on during the train’s first stop.

The two would have the opportunity to loot through passengers’ luggage and then Billy would be waiting for them a few stops later, to help them escape.

Against your own doubts, the plan had worked three times thus far but with you’re not sure how much luck you have left with what the Buckley girl has just divulged.

Almost as if by summons, Max appears at the carriage door, face calm but eyes panicked. Behind her you spot the source of her distress: Deputy Harrington.

He’s taller than you remember, you can see that now that he’s standing. Broader too, but undeniably, impossibly him.

“I’m sorry Miss Buckley, it was real nice talking to you, but I’ve got to be going now,” you say hastily picking up your skirts to step around the girl.

Stumbling into the aisle, you hurry to the opposite vestibule door, hiding your face as best as you can.

You’re almost out the other end of the carriages when something posses you to look back, perhaps habit or something worse.

Eyes lock, recognition flashes and yells erupt.

“Stop!”

You are out of the train car in a flash and onto the open vestibule. Knowing you have no place to run but the engine room at the front of the train, you decide to climb upwards onto the flat top of the traincar. You’re not too far from where Billy is meant to be, if you could stay hidden until then you had a chance.

You launch yourself at the thin, metal ladder, weighed down by your pretty, impractical traveling clothes.

You struggle onto the roof and crouch low to brace yourself against the destabilizing wind and rattling movements. Heavy bootfalls trail behind and you rush towards the next car, bracing yourself to either fall or jump.

“Sunshine? Is that really you?” You turn around once more—Orpheus cursed yet again—and for a moment time has gone backwards.

Steve looks equal measure heartbroken and confused.

“What are you doing here?” He bellows over the clash of scrapping metals and whipping winds.

“What are you doing here?” You shrill back.

“I’m… I’m the deputy,” he says as if that’s explanation enough.

“Well la-di-dah.”

He is unaffected by your sarcasm and inches closer, a little awed, a little stunned.

“What are you doing here?” He repeats.

What are you doing here? In this unrecognizable life with the weight of the world on your shoulders?

You could tell him. It’s Steve after all: your life-long confidante, the keeper of your sins. (What’s a few more sins and secrets between the two of you?)

There is no “two of you” anymore though and this is not your Steve either, standing in front of you, brandishing a badge. This is a stranger, an enemy even. This is the bastard who killed your horse and who is working with your most loathsome foe.

You edge away from him, towards the end of the roof.

“I’m robbing a goddamn train,” you finally respond before gathering your skirts and leaping.

You land, just barely, in a piled heap of frills, then right yourself in a rush before taking off running.

He doesn’t follow.

_______________

You trailed behind Steve into the stable.

“Steve I’m not going to hold you to a promise that we made when we were sixteen, if you don’t want to marry me, just tell me, I won’t be mad,” you yelled after him. And you loved him enough to make that true.

Your words stopped him dead in his tracks in the middle of the straw-strewn floor.

“Of course I want to marry you,” he said, eyes sparkling but mouth downturned in a frown. “I’ve wanted to marry you since I was thirteen.”

Your heart softened at this.

“Then what was all that about?”

You had agreed that you would finally reveal your courtship to your family when you got back from finishing school. The two of you had been loving each other in secret for three years now— seeing each other in the cracks of time between your schooling when others wouldn’t suspect. It hadn’t been something you had outwardly discussed, the secret. It was just something both of you were too shy to bring up. It had seemed so good, so pure. Something you didn’t want to be questioned over or given grief about or held against you. But once you were done with school, it felt like adulthood began and you could start loving each other in plain view. Get married even. It was time to tell your family, the two of you had decided together.

Except before you could’ve broached the subject at dinner that night, Steve excused himself from the table, suddenly. There was a mare with a broken leg he desperately needed to check on. Bullshit.

“Your father started talking about setting you up with that Carter fella and I lost my nerve,” Steve sighed. He looked at you with an apology etched in his warm eyes.

“He was only saying that because he didn’t know about us,” you soothed. You drew closer, reaching a hand up to smooth out the crease between his eyebrows.

“No, he was saying that because he wants you to marry you off to someone with money, someone in ‘society’. They didn’t send you to that fancy school just to end up with some ranch hand orphan,” Steve argued back but there was no heat left to him. He just sounded despondent and defeated.

You knew there was some truth to what he was saying. The expectation for you to marry well had always existed, unspoken but present still. And while you would hate to disappoint your parents, it wouldn’t be for nothing and there wouldn’t be anything lost. Your family had money of its own, your sisters’ future did not rely on you securing a rich husband and you let Steve know as much.

“Plus, Daddy’s a good man, he’ll want me to be happy and you make me happy, Steve.“

He smiled at you for the first time that night and it felt something like sunshine.

“You’re right,” he admitted, finally and he took your gentle hand in his work-worn one. One, two, three kisses dotted your cheeks before he pulled you close lips slotting hotly together. His hand gripped the stiff fabric of your bodice hungrily, the pressure drawing soft moans from your mouth.

Your back was against the wall the next instant and Steve’s lips were burning a trail of kisses down your neck. One of his hand traveled from your waist to your thigh, hitching it high around his hips and his lips found yours again. You tightened your leg around him to pull him closer, chasing the sweet friction of his body against yours. He whined into your mouth lowly in response. The next moment, he had pulled away from you and you whimpered at the loss. He was in his knees, his hands wading against your voluminous skirt.

He found your stocking-clad thighs underneath the fabrics and wasted no time in finding the edges of your undergarments.

“Can I?” He asked, earnest and hungry.

You nod feverishly.

“Words, darlin’. Give me your words.”

“Yes, please, Steve, yes.”

Steve disappeared underneath your skirt and you gasped when you feel his hot lips against the soft skin of your stomach. Your underthings were gone in an instant and his mouth traveled lower. Your legs parted and one thigh ended up on his shoulder.

This was new. Something you and Steve had never done, not for lack of wanting and now that you were here, it was sloppy and fervent and perfect.

His mouth locked onto where you need him the most. His lips, soft and malleable, latched onto your hot cunt and his tongue moved to circle your clit.

Your head rolled back against the weathered wooden wall.

“So sweet, so pretty,” you felt him mutter against your skin.

“More,” you pleaded and suddenly you felt his hand circling your slit, so close to where you needed the pressure.

“Inside, Stevie, please.”

“You want me to fill you up, darlin’? You want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Yes, please,” you moaned.

“Tell me who you belong to first,” he ordered. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, I’m yours, Steve,” tears welled in your eyes from the desperation.

“Damn right, you’re mine, sweet thing. No one else’s.” As he said that, a finger breached into your tight heat and began to slowly pump in and out.

The stretch became even more delicious when Steve added a second finger. You vaguely thought to yourself that you wanted to feel like this forever and you felt a sense of release approaching.

You cupped a hand against your mouth, stifling the moan that rips through when the rush finally hit you. Your legs wobbled, nearly giving out. Steve peppered a final set of kisses around your body before reappearing from underneath your skirt, eyes heady with lust. You trailed down the wall to sit across from him, eyes fixed on the bulge in his pants. You crawled closer, while Steve watched you with eyes transfixed. You placed a hand on either thigh parting them slightly so you could sit between them.

“I want to make you feel good, too,” you told him, thumbing his waistline.

“Yeah?” He said wantonly while his head lolled against his shoulder.

“Will show me how you like it?”

He nodded eagerly as you unclasped his belt buckle. He helped you undo his pants and free his cock from the confines of his pants.

You had heard things about sex, at school, from your more adventurous classmates and knew the basics well enough to put some into practice.

You reached out to palm the length of his cock, a gentle, experimental tug caused Steve to hiss in response.

“Put your mouth on it, for me darlin’,” his drawled.

You obeyed readily and took his tip into your mouth.

Groaning, he leaned back on one palm while the other threaded itself through your hair. You bobbed your head a bit and with his encouragement your movements grew and became more fluid. You tried your best to navigate the sheer length of him. He was larger than you had ever imagined and you could feel his tip pushing at the back of your throat while you used your hand to stroke what couldn’t fit in your mouth.

He watched you with lust-filled eyes, “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. Wanna keep you there forever,” he muttered as he pushed your head lightly, making you gag which elicited another moan from him.

“That’s it, honey, gag on it.”

You could feel him throbbing inside your mouth as you sped up.

“C’mere, I need your sweet little pussy around my cock, right now,” he urged suddenly, pulling your mouth away. You obeyed, eagerly, and he guided you onto his lap legs straddled on either side and skirt bunched up around your middle.

He rubbed circles on your thighs as he eased you down onto his cock. The stretch was foreign but not painful, however, with every inch burned a little more. It was delicious. With some coaxing on Steve’s end you had managed to take him fully and your thighs were flush against his. You felt so full, tears were beginning to dot the corners of your eyes.

“Doin’ so good for me, honey,” he praised, cupping your face to wipe the tears away. “Now, I just need you to ride me.”

His hand moved lower, digging into hips as you began to rock against him. The burn had given away to a delicious friction and you wanted more. Your hips moved quicker against his drawing out a deep groan from Steve. He then pulled you close, capturing your mouth in a searing, wet kiss.

You rocked against him, finding a steady rhythm, whining keenly as a heat grew in your lower stomach.

“Hush baby, someone���s gonna hear,” Steve muttered, strained, before placing his hand over your mouth while only made you burn even hotter.

You felt your release coming up on you again. “Steve,” you panted against his palm, “I’m gonna… “I’m gonna.” You were so wrecked you couldn’t even complete a sentence.

“I know sweet thing, I know, you’re doing so good for me,” Steve soothed in response, “me too.” And with that he began moving his hips up to meet your thrusts with his own.

It had turned into something rough and fast, each thrust reaching deeper than the one before.

You finished, grasping for purchase at his shirt as you rode out the feeling. A few moments later you felt a spasming inside of you as his body went suddenly rigid and then relaxed.

The two of you untangle yourselves, panting as you came down from the bliss.

“Steve?” You probed, a little later when the two of you were propped in an exhausted heap against the wall.

Steve hummed in response.

“Is yours bigger than normal or are all of them like this?”

He was speechless for a moment before breaking out into full guffaws. Your own giggles erupted into full peals of laughter that could not be contained.

Eventually after the laughter had subsided and silence had overtaken the two of you while you became lost in thought, Steve murmured your name.

“Yes?”

“I’m gonna talk to your father tomorrow, man to man and ask for your hand, I promise.”

That was the last time you saw Steve Harrington.

_______________

“Max is missing,” you announce, to no reaction.

You continue, “we need to go find her.”

Deputy Harrington and his lackey had foiled the train robbery.

You had managed to get away along with Tommy and half the loot, thanks to Billy’s good timing. Carol and Max had not been so lucky.

In the days after the scuffle, the crew had hung low and part of you hoped that Max had managed to get away somehow. She was willful and resourceful. But, it had been nearly five days and there had been no sight of the young teen.

“We don’t go back for anyone,” Billy drawls through the cigarette in his mouth, “thems the rules”

“She’s your sister, Billy,” you insist.

“Her mama married my pops and then

they both died, that don’t make us blood,” he grunts.

“Fine,” you huff, disgusted, “I will go back for her then.”

“No you will not,” Creel murmurs from behind you as he enters the small rundown kitchen and both you and Billy shrink back a bit involuntarily.

Creel—Henry Creel, although you don’t dare call him by his first name—is the head of your entire operation. He is a terrifying type of man in that there was something otherworldly about him, as if one day he’d peel his vest away to expose winding gears in his ribcage or angel wings along his back.

Lifetimes ago, Creel had been a society man, his family’s name well respected in West Texas, but there had been some unknown incident that had resulted in the deaths of his parents and sister leaving him as the sole keeper of the Creel name and fortune.

Soon he had started setting up betting houses, prying on gamblers, cheating them out of money and then running them into the ground when they inevitably couldn’t settle their debts.

He was a grifter among men and a king among grifters. Add to that some bootlegging, a bit of robbery, and a touch of murder and Henry Creel ruled over an empire of crime. Of course, he needed folks to do his bidding which is why he came to collect the members that made up his gang.

Creel collected members for his gang carefully, only picking the most talented and they had to be ruthless but not as ruthless as him because he needed his crew to fear him, to obey him.

He turns to you and speaks, slow and measured, “You are my best shot by far and I cannot risk losing you, especially for such an insignificant cause. So, I don’t want to hear another word about this, understand?”

“Yes,” you agree tightly, fists balled tightly at your side.

“Wonderful,” he smiles, long, unfurling and mirthless.

_______________

Creel seemed to want to make sure you didn’t go after Max because the next day he sent you to pick up some packages for him at the boarder. He had emphasized the value of the items and the expectation for everything to be returned to him speedily and in tact. You didn’t bother asking what the parcels possibly contained, it was better that you didn’t know anyway.

The trip had been uneventful enough, the handoff occurring under the cover of pitch black night somewhere in the Rio Grande Valley. There were three packages, long and cylindrical, wrapped in soft leather that clanged when they moved. You strapped them to the sides of your saddle and set off, whispering a quiet thank you to the young woman that had dispatched the goods and riding through the night.

There’s only 50 miles left between yourself and the Creel House when you hear it. A steady gallop coming from behind you, accompanied by the jingle of spurs. You know who it is without having to turn around.

“Excuse me, Miss, but you look familiar,” Steve calls out as he appears at your side.

You ignore him but he continues, “You look like a girl I knew back when I was a youngin’ back home—look just like her, actually. A rancher’s daughter—pretty thing. Last I heard she married some rich fella, left her town and never came back.”

Your jaw clenches.

“You’ve got the wrong girl. I ain’t married,” you hold up a ringless hand for emphasis.

“I can see that,” the deputy next to you muses.

“And I ain’t no rancher’s daughter either,” you add.

Steve chuckles dryly at this, “My mistake then, Miss, must be my mind playing tricks. But y’know who else you look like? One of the Creel gang members that robbed a train out in Wilcox last month.”

“Yeah? Well, you look like the bastard who killed my horse,” you snap back and he falters.

“Apologies for that,” he responds sounding truly ashamed.

You scoff at what little good his apology does you and pull at your reins. He is matching your stride for stride with all the ease in the world, which is making it near impossible to lose him.

You are familiar with this path though, having ridden it dozens of times while working for Creel. You know that while the path may be clear now, there is a patch of brambles coming up that is a difficult maneuver for anyone unfamiliar with it. Anyone who has traversed it before however, would know that there a steep and unseen descent that, if going too quickly, would result in a very painful tumble into a patch of cacti. That was your only chance of escape, you just needed to make sure Steve kept his pace and was distracted enough to not see the trap you were setting.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to surrender, Miss,” he declares, claiming your attention again.

“And I’m gonna have to say no, Deputy Harrington.”

“You can’t do that!” He huffs.

“Says who?”

“Me! The deputy!”

“I’ll make you a deal then,” you call out spotting the briar patch in the short distance, “if you can catch me I’ll go with you willingly. Promise.”

You yank hard at the reigns and dig your heels speeding up before suddenly veering off to the right sharply. Steve had picked up considerable speed and by the time he sees the bramble and cacti it’s far too late. His horse is left struggling for footing and he tumbles downwards into a nest of needles and spines.

“Apologies for that!” You yell over your shoulder before riding off in the opposite direction. You spend the rest of the way back convincing yourself you’re not even a little bit sorry.

_______________

“Steve didn’t show up for his morning chores,” Lottie informed you over breakfast. “You wouldn’t happen to know where’s he’s at, would ya?”

“No! Me? Why would I know?” Your answer spilled out a bit too quickly, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind and conscious.

Hattie wrinkled her nose, “Because y’all are attached at the hip.”

“Right. Well, I haven’t seen him. Maybe check with Eddie?” You suggested to the excitement and delight of your sisters who were enamored with the slightly older ranch hand who had come to employment a few months back.

The two were practically tripping over themselves to go find him. They returned with Eddie in tow and still no inkling of where the other ranch hand might’ve been.

“Sorry, Miss,” Eddie drawled, “haven’t seen ‘im since last night. Seemed like he had a good night though,” he smirked, “was sighing up a storm. But his boots are gone and a few of his other things too.”

You thanked the three and sent them off to continue the search.

Steve had never missed a day of chores in his life, that itself was vexingly peculiar but, your father was also gone all morning and based off the previous night’s promise, you were inclined to believe they’re together, so you didn’t panic, but you were still worried.

When your father returned later that afternoon alone, you rushed to meet him at the door.

“Daddy, Steve didn’t talk to you about anything today did he?” You asked casually as he laid his boots by the door.

“Naw, haven’t seen him all day,” he looked perplexed, “although the girls tell me he’s missing.”

This was when your worry transformed into panic.

Supper time came and went and Steve was still unaccounted for. The same was true the following morning.

By midday, you had plead with Eddie to let you into their shared room to search for any sign for where he might be. Your mind was overflowing with worry and confusion.

Eddie escorted you and you watched, with pity in his eyes as you riffle through Steve’s things desperation mounting with each overturned blanket or skimmed-through book that led nowhere.

“Wait, what is that?” Eddie pointed at the headboard where it seemed like a thick glossy piece of paper was tucked between the bedpost and the wall.

You wiggled it out and extend the edges open for the two of you to see. It was a poster, the type that hung in saloons and public squares.

Cheyenne Rodeo, was printed along the top in thick lettering along with, Winner Rewarded in Cash Prize.

Underneath that, in smaller print and circled in pencil were a series of dates a week away.

“Shit,” Eddie muttered over you shoulder.

_______________

“Shit,” Billy mutters behind you. “It’s that mutton-punching deputy again.”

You groan and turn to look. Sure enough, coming up around the bend was Deputy Harrington and his trusted Secretary Miss Robin Buckley.

You and Billy are tucked behind a barn and while you’re clearly visible he is unseen.

“I’ll handle this,” you say firmly and Billy is quick to protest but you cut him off, “Billy, I swear to God, if you don’t let me handle this I will shoot your weasel off while you sleep.”

He recoils immediately, “I’ll wait here then.”

“Be ready to make a run for it,” you advise nodding to his horse, Pistol.

You take a moment to breathe deeply and straighten your posture in your saddle before ambling into the dirt road.

“Howdy,” you call out to the pair who are fifty paces away, their figures outlined bright with sunshine.

“Hello!” Robin Buckley greets near cheerful with a boisterous wave, “It’s good to see you again!”

“Don’t you have anything else to do besides following me around?” You question, squinting at Steve.

“Got wind of some stage coat robberies along this road and as the deputy, it is my duty to come and investigate,” he responds haughtily.

You scoff, “Duty?” You gesture at the angry red scratches that litter his body, clear remainders from your previous run in. “Was it your duty to get into a fist fight with a barn cat, Deputy Harrington.”

He reddens, tugging at his collar higher pulling your attention to his appearance. It’s the first time you’ve gotten the chance to take him in fully, head on, without having to flee in the opposite direction.

He’s dressed neatly in a blue buttoned shirt with maroon trousers and a fine set of suede chaps. A tan vest showcases his glinting silver, official badge. His hat and boots look worn but clean. He looks good, neat, well-kept.

A clear contrast to your mismatch, threadbare clothes and your wind beaten face and unkempt hair. No wonder he barely recognized the first time you crossed paths.

His eyes rake over your body, as if he’s read your mind and suddenly you drowning in self-consciousness and struggling to keep yourself from running a hand through your hair.

Twinkling laughter cuts through your tense regard for one another. Miss Buckley seems amused by the exchange.

Steve glares at his partner, “Robin, c’mon.”

She puts her hands up in guiltless surrender. “Sorry but you never mentioned she was funny.”

They divulged into a low argument that you only catch pieces of.

“—said charming not funny, she’s definitely both—“

“—find my suffering amusing—“

“—never tell you anything—“

“—thats fine, Red will tell me—“

Your ears perk at the last statement from Robin.

“Max? You have Max?”

The two exchange an uneasy gaze.

“Miss Mayfield is currently being detained at the county jail for suspected involvement in the Wilcox Train robbery.” Steve declares, inciting your outrage.

“She’s a child, Harrington!”

“She’s a suspect and besides, you can see her soon enough because you are under arrest.”

This elicits an eye roll from you.

“Not this game again,” you grumble.

“This isn’t a game,” he argues and to prove his point, unsheathes his pistol.

You stiffen at the sight but keep firm.

“Deputy Harrington,” you start, tone measured, “you and I both know that Henry Creel will not take kindly to his best markswoman being detained and he is not someone you want to make an enemy of, trust me, you won’t survive it,” you emphasize for his benefit, not your own, “so why don’t we part ways here and maybe you two find something more your speed. Maybe there’s a child nearby cheating at a game of jacks you can arrest and—“

A shot rings out, loud and disorienting, making your ears ring. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s Billy, who had since appeared from behind the barn, that unloaded his gun, not Steve. He hadn’t hit either the deputy or his secretary, however he had managed to spook their horses enough to cause enough commotion and confusion for the two of you to slip away.

“C’mon!” You hear Billy shout, snapping you out of your stupor and with only final glance back, you urge your horse forward leaving Steve in the dust, once again

_______________

The news came, as all terrible news does, on a raining Sunday afternoon.

Up until that day, you had maintained your hope that Steve would come back, protecting it like a tepid flame in a storm.

But all hope was extinguished when your father handed you a torn news article. It only had four words printed on it: Cheyenne Rodeo Claims Casualty. Above was a photograph of a young man rough riding a bull. It was grainy and small but the photo was undeniably him. Steve. That four word title and photograph were all that you were afforded, the only thing that had been ripped out of the Wisconsin Tribune.

“No, no,” you shook your heard frantically, “it can’t have been him. Where’s the rest of the article? I need to see the rest of the article,” you demanded.

Your daddy sighed, grievously, “that’s the only thing Uncle Tony sent me.”

“Steve’s not dead, Daddy! He can’t be!” You shrill, “He’s the best bill rider to ever be.” Steve wasn’t supposed to meet the same end as his father, he was better than that.

“I’ll go to Wisconsin,” your father soothed, “I will find out myself.”

“Can I come with you?” You asked.

“I’m afraid you’ll slow me down, darling and besides it’s far too dangerous. But don’t worry, I’ll do what needs to get done.”

“Will you bring him back?” You pleaded, sounding like a petulant child.

“As long as he wants to come back,” your father warned back, watering the seed of doubt that had been growing in your chest since the morning Steve had disappeared.

Your daddy was back two weeks later. Alone. One look at his apologetic and grievous face and you collapsed onto the soft mud.

Steve was dead. Your father had confirmed it. He hadn’t been able to track down the newspaper but he had seen the certificate and he provided a singular printed death announcement to show you.

Steve was dead.

He had left and died with no explanation or reason. You would never know why he had done what he had, perhaps it was pride or recklessness, no one could say.

He had the privilege of living and dying by his own whims and follies and you were left behind with the messy work of grieving him and putting all the pieces back together.

_______________

“I appreciate what you did back there.” The words come out stilted and uncertain when you say them aloud. You can’t even look at Billy when you speak, instead your eyes face forward, focused on the terrain in front of you instead of the man riding at your side.

You’re not used to thanking Billy and it doesn’t seem like he’s used to being thanked based either.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, as he shielded his eyes away. He looks like he wanted to say something else but the words were stuck.

“Out with it,” you urge, “whatever it is you wanna say.”

That was all the permission he needed to ask his totally unabashed question.

“Did you and the deputy fuck?”

“Billy!” You chastise, heat rushing your cheeks.

He shrugged, “You said ‘out with it’. And it just seems like you two know each other… well, is all.”

“We don’t know each other,” you answer hoping he drops this as quickly has Max had months before.

“C’mon darlin’, don’t bullshit me.”

You sigh.

“We may have crossed paths once or twice before.”

“Is that it? If you ask me, there’s some history there. Does he owe you money or something?” He presses, laughing.

“You sure are goddamn stubborn, y’know that?”

He smirks at you, a perfect picture of roguish handsomeness, “I’ve been told, yeah.”

Shaking your head disparagingly, you choose your next words with care,

“We knew each other when we were kids. And kids say things they don’t mean, they make promises they can’t keep and eventually those promises get broken but that doesn’t mean the world ends.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit dramatic?”

You laugh, “Max used to say that all the time.”

He joined into your laughter, “Yeah, kid was a pain in the ass but she had a way of keeping you humble.”

It was true. In your deepest moments of self-pity and despair, Max always managed to bring you back to reality in her unique, biting way.

You sober at the thought of her, imprisoned, “You really don’t care that she’s locked up?”

Billy exhales heavily, “it’s all the same to me. I told you we ain’t kin.”

“Bullshit,” it’s your turn to call. “If y’all ain’t kin, why didn’t you just leave her behind when your parents died?”

Billy stiffened. “I was fourteen scared shitless and she wouldn’t leave me alone. If I woulda known how things shook out, I woulda dropped her at some orphanage to keep us from this mess. Maybe she’s better off where she’s at.”

“You don’t truly believe that, do you?”

“I dunno,” his tone darkens, a previously unseen vulnerability on display, “is this the life you would want for your kin? Or yourself for the matter?”

The conversation dies after that.

_______________

You had spent three years trying to mend your grief following Steve’s death.

Nothing quelled your spirit and everywhere you looked, you couldn’t help but be reminded of him.

You stopped riding and shooting. You gave up reading. You would ruin your chances with every suitor that your daddy sent your way by refusing to talk altogether, no matter how much your parents tried to convince you that it was time to declare yourself engaged. You weren’t ready, you kept insisting to your parents despite their attempts to find you a match, perhaps you would never be ready.

It had taken three years for the Steve-shaped wound to finally beginning to scar over, you couldn’t stand another heartbreak. Regardless, one came anyway.

Your father was dying. An illness had set in that was eating him away. In the span of a few months he had become bed-bound and weak. It was just a matter of time, was what the town doctor had told you.

You did your best to be a solid pillar for the rest of your family, braving your father’s bedside care when the others couldn’t stomach it, taking over the ranch’s books and ledgers when your father fell to delirium. Grief was familiar enough that you knew how to manage around it.

The day your father died, it was sunny and bright which seemed like a cruel joke. Your sisters cried while you organized the funeral. Your mother refused to leave her room for three days, finally coming out in time for the service, hair impecable and wearing her best dress.

The funeral was well attended, of course it was. Your father was well known and respected in your community and you recognized everyone that came through the church doors that day in one form or another. Except for one man.

He was tall, imposing. Well dressed, but not showy. He stood in the back, the entire service, and then after that too. He waited until it was just your family left before he approached.

“Hello,” he purred, reaching out to kiss your mother’s hand, “my name is Henry Creel, and I’m here to talk about a debt that needs settling.”

Men were rotten. It was a fact truer than the blue sky. Most rotten men had the shame to be upfront about it, but not your daddy, it turned out.

No, he turned out to be the worst kind of rotten—the kind who hid all his ugly behind a gleaming veneer of false honor and integrity until all the rotten caught up to him. And then, he had the audacity to die and leave the consequences to you to deal with.

Turned out, your seemingly pious father had a penchants for gambling and, according to Creel, he was quite bad at it because he had left an outstanding debt the size of the moon. What made it worse was that he kept pushing payment off in a strange dance the two had: Creel would demand payment, your father would barter for a bit more time, claiming he was waiting for some money he had in the works, the money would inevitably never appear and then they would go back to the start. Henry Creel was angry, he had made clear. And he would be receiving his rightful payment, regardless of your father being six feet under.

“Hand the ranch over to me,” he offered your mama, “and all the debts will be settled.”

“Not a chance,” you challenged, “the ranch is worth more than what my father owes you.”

Creel regarded you for the first time, and you could see the machinations of his brain whirring.

“There has to be another way,” you proposed, trying to sound sure and steady when you felt neither of those things.

“Perhaps,” Creel began, “Perhaps, we could come to a different arrangement. Tell me girl, do you have any skills of note?”

You swallow thickly at the question, unsure what answer to give.

“She can shoot,” Lottie volunteered, “real good, too.”

“And she a fast rider,” Hattie added.

“She went to this fancy finishing school in El Paso, too. They taught her how to be a proper lady and a wife,” Lottie supplied.

“And she’s pretty—“

“Hattie,” you interrupt, “that ain’t a skill.”

“ I know but I couldn’t let Lottie say more than me!”

Creel chuckled, unamused, “ The little one is right, if yielded correctly, beauty could be a skill.”

You blanched. The way he said that paired with his lecherous smile didn’t sit right with you.

In the end, you were given a choice: you could sell the ranch and let your family fall into a sure poverty, or you could work for Creel, doing the rotten work that men like him needed done.

The choice was made and you were once left paying for the sins of another man.

You rode off behind Henry Creel into the unknown night a few hours after your father’s funeral, reminding yourself the entire way that you had made the right choice and hoping you’d be better than your father at being rotten.

[athenaluciscaelum]

Hello!

I hope you're doing well! Is it okay if I request a Dante x Female!Reader fic where they've been dating for over a year, but they haven't been "intimate" yet because the reader is traumatized by an awful experience in her childhood and almost got raped?

Dante makes sure to support her and always make her feel safe.. So thanks to his kindness they eventually manage to do it.

Hope this topic doesn't go against your rules..Thanks a lot! 🙏🏻

I hope I do justice to your request, I'm sorry if it took too long, I work full-time. From someone who could not be saved. ♥️♥️♥️ I have to post it in two part, Tumblr won't let me in one.

//MINOR DO NOT INTERACT!//

Pairing: DMC5 Dante x Fem!Reader

Rated: MATURE

Words: 3661 words (PART 1 + PART 2)

Warning: Attempted rape, mature, nsfw

Disclaimer:

Please refer to warning, and do not proceed if it triggers you. Stay safe

Your Pain

PART 1 OF 2

The room was dark, only moonlight poured in illuminating your beautiful face as you were sitting on bed, your back against the headboard. Dante was sitting beside you, his big hands holding your soft little hand, your hands were so delicate and shapely, yet could do such remarkable things. It surprised him, he smiled as he rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand. He sighed, his head on top of yours, his scruff rubbing against your hair. His words echoing in your ears, “I will wait, princess, I will wait.” Your mind replaying everything.

It all started when one faithful day, you were riding your bike to your university, you liked the pleasant weather of Capulet City. You just moved into a small one-bedroom apartment to stay close to your campus. You loved riding a bicycle since you were a kid. So it was your mode of transportation, also you loved the aesthetic of wearing a pretty dress and riding the cycle. Just so picture aesthetic, you can ride quite fast if you like, but you loved enjoying weather and sightseeing. In car or fast-paced vehicle, you just move so fast, you rarely observe what is around you. That's not the case with your trusty bicycle. You took in the city.

But on the first day of University, you got lost, you stumbled in the part of the city opposite to the university. You sighed internally, you came across an old building, it had a sign 'Devil May Cry' fancy name, you thought. But good name, you went in, it was 9AM, you saw a man behind the desk. The place looked old, it had strong liquor and stale pizza smell, empty bottle and pizza boxes littered around. You saw naked women poster on the wall. This looked no good, fear settled in your heart. You turned to walk out, but a deep voice stopped you. Dante puts down magazine from his face and sat up straight, “You need help, babe?” Babe! Babe! Did he just called you babe?! This man was no good, you were trembling and was little frozen. You gulped, “Ummm…. nothing, wrong place, I will be on move.” Dante thought you have a demon problem, and you were unsure if Dante could do a job, a man with hangover in an unkempt office was not the most potential prospect for killing demon, right? He was quick, and he was in front of you quickly, his arms crossed. He spoke looking down at you, those icy blue eyes felt so scary, “Hey..... I can help, just tell me.......” You were scared, no voice came out of your throat, a dark room, a man, the stench-it all just bring forth memory in your mind which you tried to bury every night. All you could do was cry, and you screamed, “NO!!!!” Dante was shocked, he frowned and was panicking, his voice urgent, “Hey! Hey! Princess! Calm down! I will help…. I won't hurt you, I promise, please.....just don't cry….jeez!” You looked at him, you saw honest concern and panic etching his face. This was new, most men in your life were always scary, Dante was scary too, but he looked genuine, you were confused, most men invoked only one feeling in you, 'beware! Do not get close!', but Dante felt right, though the whole setting was wrong. You were still shivering, but spoke, wiping your tears, “sorry… I am Y/N, I lost my way, I needed to go to Capulet City University, but.....” Dante hummed, “That's on the opposite side, princess, but not to far.” You smiled and nodded, “Thank you, just guide me, I will go…" Dante shook his head, “No… I feel bad for whatever happened...I don't know...God, I saw you crying, whatever that was for? I'm so scary? Anyway…. I will drop you on my motorcycle.” You refused, “I have my bicycle.” Dante looked at the clock, “When your class starts?” You looked at the clock, “Ohho! It starts in 15 mins!” Dante smiled, “At your service, ma'am.” You fumbled, “But my bicycle.” Dante shrugged, “come and get it tomorrow or in the evening?”

Dante dropped you safely to your university, you waved at him as you ran to your class. You came back next morning to Devil May Cry with crêpes you made in the morning, in a box. You wanted to thank Dante. You knocked on the door, Dante opened it yawning, it was 8AM, you smiled and gave him the box, “Thank you for tomorrow, and I apologize for my rude behavior. Please accept this as an apology.” Dante scratched his head leaning on the door frame, “Naah, princess, seriously you didn't need to go through the trouble.” You got past him inside placing the food on the coffee table, “I insist, and I never got your name. Rude. “ You giggled and Dante just smiled, it was a pretty smile and sweet sound. Dante chuckled as he joined to near the coffee table, “My name is Dante.” You smiled, “Thankyou, Mister Dante” Dante clicked his tongue, “Drop the Mister, y/n” You nodded and smiled, “Okay, well, if you're going to eat this, right now, best, but if you're going to wait for your girlfriend or something. I will suggest keep it boxed.” Dante looked at you with smile, opening the box and eating the crêpe, “No girlfriend, I am alone here. How was your lecture tomorrow? I hope you reached on time and didn't get an earful from your professor.” You blinked, “I am not a student, I am professor......well, still I do not like to be late for my class and I do not give my students an earful if they are late.” Dante was surprised, “Ohho…. professor? Aren't you young?” You nodded, “Yes, I am twenty-five, but trust me, it is possible. I lack experience, but I have my own strong points.” Dante nodded in appreciation and popped a blueberry in his mouth, “And add good cook to the list, these crêpes were fantastic.” You smiled, “I will be going.....” Dante nodded, “I hope you're late again.” You smiled as you took your bike and left.

From that day onwards, you have no business in Dante's part of town, but you found yourself there. Like when your brakes stopped working, off course, Dante would have some tool, he can lend you. And when you were looking for new cabinets for your new apartment. You can ask Dante, he is a local. Or when you wanted to eat some Pizza, though you rarely had it before. Dante must know the best Pizzeria in the town. And when you try new recipe, you cooked too much, you knew nobody, so you have to bring some to Dante as thanks and also wasting food is bad, right?

It has been a month, you got some business in Dante's shop or other, he came back from a mission after a week, he saw your bicycle outside his shop and found you on the steps of the front door with a paper bag in your hand. You feel asleep. He sighed running finger through his hair, he spoke looking up, “y/n” He walked to you and poked your cheek to wake you, you woke up startled. You were breathing heavy, broke in cold sweat when you stood up and looked at Dante, your hand on your heart, you smiled, “Ohhho… it's you..... Dante... Trish told me you will be back tonight. So I thought I should get you some spaghetti.” Dante sighed and ran finger through his hair, his mission, a fresh reminder in his mind of what his life really is. You do not fit in this mess. He spoke cold, “Why?” You blinked and smiled, “Why? Because you must be hungry, let's go in. Or spaghetti will be cold.” Dante opened his mouth to say something, but he just took a deep breath. He took hold of your wrist and pulled you in, closing the door. You were confused, “Dante?” Dante took out his dual pistol from holster and put them on coffee table, along with rebellion, you never saw them before, you always thought the were just display thing. You frowned looking at Dante face for explanation, you mumbled, “Is this human blood on it?” Dante shook his head, “No…demon blood….” You were unsure of what you heard, but now you can connect all the dots, “Ohho…" Dante raised an eyebrow, “Ohho?” You nodded, “I see… You must be so hungry, after killing demons, let's eat, go and shower.” Dante was confused? Baffled? Surprised? He didn't know, he just smiled and nodded, “Sure, princess….”

After dinner, it was late night, riding your bicycle back was not a safe option. Dante and you were sitting on the couch watching a movie, a commercial came in public interest about rape survivor and to reach out for help. Dante was neutral, his hand around your shoulder, suddenly he felt you go stiff and eyes hollow. You were looking at the screen without blinking, he can hear your heartbeat quicken and your body feeling light. He rubbed his thumb on your cheeks, turning your chin to face him, his voice soothing, “all good, princess?” You were back in reality and nodded, “Yeah, was just feeling sleepy….” Dante smirked, “You can sleep in my room, but there is only one bed.” You blinked, you hit his head with a pillow, “This couch is quite comfortable, thank you.” Dante cupped your cheeks, leaning down to kiss your soft lips, tilting your head, to mold his lips to your…you wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed him back with the same fervor. Dante's hand was on your waist trying to feel the skin under the shirt, as your crop top rode up, he was quick to feel your skin, his hand close to your underboob. You flinched and pulled away, your lips red and swollen, your eyes full of fear. Dante quickly cupped your cheeks again, he was afraid, he fucked up, “did I something wrong?” A fear obvious in his voice. You shook your head, finding it difficult to form words in your head, you took a deep breath, “Of course not….can we take it slow? I-I-I-I…" Dante looked into your eyes, “Hey… Hey…no need to explain yourself….of course, I can take it slow… you set the pace, okay?” You nodded with teary eyes, you were emotional. You were happy at bare minimum because that's what you were taught. Furthermore, you blabber, “Thank you…” Dante chuckled, “Whatever for? For not being a jerk?” You and Dante laughed, you hugged him tight. That night, Dante slowly explained you his job, his heritage, and his love. “I love you, y/n.” You kissed that idiot, “I love you too!” You both sat on the couch, cuddling and talking. Not long after, you looked out, and it was already the crack of dawn, you stretched and yawned, “My students can rest today.” Dante smiled," I can't, I have a mission …" You were sad, “Leaving?” Dante kissed your forehead, “Go upstairs and rest… I will be back before you know.”

Thereafter, things were fast, you moved in within two months of knowing Dante. You asked him for privacy and different room, and he accepted it. It was fun, living together, waking up to see him. But one thing that was lacking was intimacy. Every time things got too hot, you made some excuse that you were too tired, too uncomfortable, or too busy. Dante understood each time, even when he knew everything was not right, and just said one thing each time, “you know, you can tell me anything, right?”

So now sitting on bed with him. You gulped…." Dante…." He look at you, “yeah.sleepy? Want to go back to your room?” You sighed," D-d-Dante…. I am not okay…" Dante frowned, “What are you saying, princess? You're not feeling well?” You shake your head, “I am broken, Dante.” You were crying. Dante hugged you tightly wipping your tears, “Shhhhh….princess… You are not broken, you are my princess….” You cried clenching on his shirt, “I can't even do something as basic as intimacy….” Dante frowned, “So what? I can't keep place clean…" You blinked at him and laughed through your tears, Dante grinned, “That's how I like you princess, smiling…" You nodded, your head on his chest, “Dante…I need to tell you something.....” Dante heart felt heavy,by now he guessed, but he prayed all God that what he thinks is wrong. He looked at you with trust and care, putting a strand of hair behind your ear…You summoned all your courage, your voice breaking.

“When I-I-I-I was eight…. I was left alone by my parents with a family friend of my dad, his wife and him volunteer to baby sit me. My father and mother needed to address some urgent business. His wife was a nice woman. I was in my room drawing. When he came in, and I heard the door click and locked. I got up from the floor and looked at him, I was smiling and spoke, 'Mister Mann, I'm hungry, let's get a snack.' I saw the creepiest smile on Mister Mann face, I felt fear.....”

Your voice broke, your eyes full of tear…you could not keep it in…your hand on your mouth. Dante held you tight and rubbed your back. “I couldn't understand as he tried to do it… I took a lamp and hit him with the lamp on my bedside before he could go any further than trying to grope me…. I was unable to unlock the door. But me banging the door, bashing of lamp, all lead to Misses Mann comes upstairs running. She warned her husband, either he opens the door, or she is calling 911. So Mister Mann opened the door. He tried to accuse me that I am a devil child who hit him. Misses Mann saw scratches on my arms, and she acted like she trusts his husband. But she took me and ran to police station. The whole investigation was messy, so my mom withdrew the case, saying it is harming my future.”

Dante clenched his fist, he was changing, his demon eyes in a slit, his demon side burning for justice for his mate. His voice was dark and metallic, “WHERE-IS-HE-NOW?” You nuzzled his chest, “Six feet under, his wife divorced him and he got shot by a man whose daughter he was trying to prey on.” Dante let out a huff, “He deserved worse death…if he was alive, he would have..." You were shivering and out your hand on his mouth. He held you tight…Dante kissed your hair, “It's okay, months, years, I can wait, you have nothing to be sorry for. Only person who should be sorry is dead, and your mother owes you an apology.” You nodded feeling so much lighter. You feel asleep in his arms. The next day, you didn't say much about last night, nor did Dante mentioned it. He loved you as he always does. He wanted all of this to unfold on your own accord, he was patient with you, like you were with him.

Tag: @sacredwarrior88 @marshmallows-and-champagne

[ghostssweetgirl]

crazy over you ~ simon ghost riley x reader slow burn/enemies to lovers

description: y/n gets transferred to task force 141 and quickly becomes friends with soap and gaz, but her and ghost "hate" each other for the first part.

warnings: mentions of violence and death (duh), alcohol intake, smoking (at some point), nsfw (at some point), subtle flirting with soap. i'm new to writing? so don't expect this to be the greatest. this is not in line with the game campaigns or missions. the only characters i included are y/n, soap, gaz, price, & ghost. i have no knowledge of the military this is just creativity

disclaimer: i do not own modern warfare or any of its characters.

chapters: next [distraction - strangers] last

A/N - Either I'm being too critical of myself, but I think my writing is getting worse lol, I hope you guys still enjoy though, sad chapter - I'm so sorry!

--

You stayed in the range for about an hour, shooting targets, brushing up on your throwing knives skill just in case, because now would be one of the best times to impress Ghost. The time alone was tranquility; you had an awesome night and morning, so it was nice to relive the moments in your head while you were training. 

After another 30 minutes, you sighed and started cleaning your gun. They should be ready anytime now, you thought. You were ready to get this over with. You walked over to the safe house to gather your bags, seeing Soap and Ghost gathering their equipment and greeting you.

"Hey, lass, you ready?" Soap asked.

"Just gotta grab my stuff, too. Just one sec," you informed. You took note of how Ghost didn't speak to you, or even look at you. 

--

Gathering into the vehicle, Ghost started going on about the mission. "We're going to a destroyed village scoping for survivors, other forces in the military called us for help. Price and Gaz are doing a quick mission and will join us as they finish. Enemies might be hiding out, we got to watch each other's six's." 

"Yes sir," you and Soap said together. 

"'S gonna be a long ride," Ghost sighed, starting the jeep and driving off.

You caught up on some much-needed sleep during the ride. 

--

Arriving to the site, Soap's mouth opened in surprise, "Steamin' bloody Jesus..."

"Absolutely destroyed..." you added.

Well, this was going to take forever, you thought. A whole village, strips of shops and bundles of houses completely destroyed to rubble, along with furniture and what was left of the food in the shops. From what you could see, there would be no survivors, and if there were, they were surely to die before you found them.

Everyone gets out of the vehicle, strapped with their weapons. 

"Fuckin' bastards..." Ghost rasped as he checked his heartbeat sensor to see nothing as of right now. "Be lucky if anyone survived this."

"Right..." you looked around, taking in all the damage, wondering what happened but learned better than to ask questions. 

--

It took hours to sweep through what was left of each building, looking under rocks for people, animals, any signs of life. The only thing you guys found was a kitten, and it was in bad shape, all black. He limped towards you, meowing, nearly screaming for you to notice it.

"Aww, little fella... Hey..." you cooed at it before carefully picking it up. Soap came over to pet it, frowning at its condition.

"L.T..." Soap called in a sad tone.

"We're not having a kitten, 's another mouth to feed, and it's likely to die," he said plainly.

"Have you no heart for this little cutie?" you brought him to the Lieutenant. "Look at him. Just look at him."

He sighed, rolling his eyes before he glanced at the kitten. "Yeah... I guess it's cute... I'm not taking care of it. Put it in a box in the jeep or something, we're not really in a position to hold onto it, especially in the middle of a mission."

"Cannae believe how it survived... Must be so scared, little one," Soap worried. 

"Thank you! Just for a little while you'll be alone in the jeep, baby. I promise we're coming back for you. You're safe here. I'm going to take care of you," you cooed at it while you found a box big enough to hold it in the jeep, thankfully the weather was neutral, and though you worried, you figured at least you'd try to rescue it. 

--

You met them after you had to backtrack to the jeep to get the kitten to safety. As you met them, they were crouched watching the heartbeat sensor, there were a group of people up ahead in one of the least destroyed buildings. 

"There's at least 20 of them," Soap whispered.

Ghost looked around, calculating the best options. "We sneak up on them on the left, they're aimed towards the right as if they're expecting company that way."

"Ready, Diamond?" Soap nodded towards you.

"Ready as can be."

You followed suit, sneaking up on the left side of the alleyways. As everyone crouches behind a cement block, Ghost snipes one, getting their attention but they couldn't see you guys. 

"Move," Ghost ordered as they looked down the middle path, searching. 

As you guys get closer, a gas fills the air, instantly taking your breath. It burned. Your eyes, your mouth, your nose. Choking and gagging, surely to give away your positions, you leaned down, covering your face to no avail.

The men were choking as well, they moved forward taking cover, but you were unable to see where you were going, following them to the best of your ability. But you couldn't see. 

"Fuck! Guys, I can't see!" you called.

Suddenly you collapsed in front of them, bleeding from your abdomen. Hardly able to react from exposure to gas, you groaned in pain, crawling to them. Ghost looked back and forth from you and the enemy, concerned; distracted. Not like him.

"Fuck! Guys... guys..." you panted, grabbing your stomach while you started feeling faint, seeing stars and flashes of white mixed in with the burn of the liquid of the gas.

The ringing in your ears caused you unable to make out what they were saying, but they both took care of the rest of the enemies as the gas evaporated. Your vision slowly coming back, but consciousness fading, the pain was unbearable, and reminded you of when you saved Ghost. Just your fucking luck, right? Injured again. This time shot. You didn't make out Ghost screaming into the walkie that he needed evac asap, that his soldier's been injured and needs help now. There was a strain in his voice, like he's lost someone before, and it couldn't happen again. 

Your vision was black, a deep sleep enveloped you while you were being carried to the helicopter. Price and Gaz showed up at the very end, and the enemies ended up defeated.

--

You regained consciousness the next morning, to a hospital room, looking down, you see gauze wrapped around your stomach as memories came rolling in, reminding you what happened. Fuck. 

"Fuck, I hope the kitty's okay..." you whimpered quietly. 

A few moments later, a nurse brings you your breakfast, nasty grits with toast and scrambled eggs with a cup of grape juice. Ugh. 

 "You have a visitor, sweetie," she smiled at you as you painfully sat up to take your first bite. "Should I allow him in?"

Him? Ghost.

"U-uh sure..." you looked away, now worried. You know you've disappointed him twice on a mission now that you've been injured again while with him.

He walked in after the nurse exited, but he seemed disgruntled, the black paint around his eyes was smeared, eyes seemed heavy.

"Hey..." you muttered.

"I... I'm glad you're okay," he sighed, standing straight with his hands in his pockets. Weird, you'd think he'd come sit on the bed with you.

"I... I'm sorry, Simon," you apologized, your teary eyes meeting his tired ones. "I-is the kitten okay?"

You share a moment of silence, anxious for what he was to say next, you couldn't tell if he was mad, sad, hurt... What was it? 

He chuckled at your concern for the kitten, shaking his head 'yes'. 

"I couldn't see... I panicked, honestly, I-"

"We can't afford this, y/n," he broke you off, earning a confused, hurt look on your face. 

"What? Simon... Really? I really, really like you... Please..." Fuck, you don't know why you're begging. It became instinct when you heard those words.

His brows furrow in a way that showed this may have been hard, or uncomfortable... He looks you over one last time before breathing out before he turned around. He grabs the door handle, looks back at you and quietly mumbles, "Can't afford distractions, soldier."

"Simon, please..." 

Not like this. 

You push your food away, losing your appetite while you stared at the ceiling. Unable to think, unable to move, you barely hear your heart monitor beep faster. You burst into tears, the shaking of your body as you cried made your wound ache worse. 

You didn't react to the nurses rushing in, them checking your pulse, waving their hands in front of your face. 

Just like that. It felt like you were strangers again. Starting all over. Why? 

[runnning-outof-time]

Busted By the Bird | Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @bradshawwannebe

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) invites Tommy over to her flat after a night out. There, Tommy finds out some interesting things about the woman he's interested in.

Warnings: language, drinking

Word Count: 2428

A/N: this one’s a bit different than my usual stories, but it was such a fun prompt to consider. Just a quick disclaimer though: I’ve never had a bird nor interacted with a bird, so I’m sorry if the bird seems off…don’t worry, this’ll make sense once you read! Enjoy! :)

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

Tommy and (Y/N) were both laughing about something one or the other had said as they came to (Y/N)'s flat's door after a night out at one of their usual spots. She suggested he'd come over to spend the night because it was close. The fact that the weather wasn't the best only helped her case.

"Now I must warn you before we go in..." (Y/N) started as she fished her keys out of her purse, "you're going to be very underwhelmed with everything in here."

"I'm sure I won't be," Tommy brushed her off.

"No, I mean it. You're used to high class...in here is how the normal people live," she insisted, emphasizing the word for effect. Tommy just chuckled at her statement and shook his head.

It still surprised (Y/N) that the business mogul, among other things, that was Tommy Shelby had an interest in being her friend. They met through a mutual friend and now had escalated things to spending nights out alone together. This was the first time he'd see her apartment though, because they'd always go to his afterwards.

"Just open the door, (Y/N)," he told her in a light voice, nodding his head to the door then.

"Oh, I should also warn you..." she started off again, pausing her statement to exude a giggle as she thought about what she was going to tell him, "I have a cat," she then said with the utmost seriousness.

Tommy's eyebrows raised slightly as he took in what she had to say. He blinked a few times, waiting to see if she had anymore to add. After a few beats of silence, he exhaled a breath of a laugh and shook his head, "that won't bother me," he told her.

"Ok. I just wanted to let you know before he surprised you. I know that some people aren't the best with cats," she told him her reasoning behind it before she finally went about opening the door to her home. "See?" she commented as they both walked in, "I told you that it's nothing much to look at," she said as she set her keys and purse down on the kitchen island that effectively split the two parts of the main living area up.

"It's fine," he brushed her off, taking off his jacket so that he was now only wearing a hoodie.

(Y/N) found herself looking him over, loving his casual look. It wasn't often that she saw him in a simple shirt and pair of jeans as he was always in some savvy suit, so she made sure to get a good mental image of it.

"You hear me?" Tommy's question brought her out of her thoughts, making her stare at him like a deer in the headlights. He chuckled at her stare. She obviously didn't hear what he'd said.

"I didn't," she admitted as her cheeks heated up, not even attempting to play it off like she was. "What were you saying?" she asked then, hoping he'd repeat himself.

"It was nothing," he brushed her off like he so commonly did, his answer making her frown.

"Tommy," she groaned, tipping her head back at his response.

"Where's your cat?" he asked her, shying them away from the previous topic.

"He's probably hiding...only comes out once in a while," she answered him, still pouting slightly at the fact that he was withholding information from her. Damn you brain and your stupid staring.

Tommy nodded at the information she'd shared with him, and silence fell between the both of them then. It only hung in the air for a few moments before a rather prominent 'squawk!' came from the living room side of the flat. Tommy immediately looked in the direction of the sound, finding a cage sitting up against the room's far wall. He then looked back at (Y/N), a look that was a combination of surprise and confusion present on his face.

"I forgot to tell you that I have a bird," (Y/N) stated, a bit of sheepishness present in her voice. She now felt like she wanted to facepalm herself for not disclosing this information to him. But honestly, She didn't even think to tell him that she had a bird, because who's bothered by birds?

"A bird and a cat. That's...interesting?" Tommy commented, a grin on his face as he thought of the irony of the situation.

"They're fine with each other. Chip stays in his cage and Simon enjoys watching him from the arm of the chair that's closest to the cage," she explained the living situation of her two pets.

"Chip and Simon," he tried the animals' names out for himself, chuckling slightly, "I like that."

"I went simple with the names," she brushed his compliment off as she moved around the kitchen island to go to the small wine rack that was sitting on the counter, "want some wine?" she asked him then, turning with a bottle in her hand.

"Sure," he shrugged, making her nod before she moved to the cabinet where the glasses were stored. She grabbed two before moving back to where he was standing by the island.

"I know it's not your whiskey, but it'll do, right?" her question was more like a comment as she poured two, decent portions out for the both of them.

"It'll do," he echoed her statement, smiling at her as she handed him one of the glasses.

"Let's go sit on the couch instead of standing around the island," she said next, nodding her head towards the living area, "fancy a movie?" she asked as they made their way over.

"Sure," he gave another simple response as they both sat down. (Y/N) nodded her head, grabbing the remote from the coffee table so that she could turn on the tv and log onto one of her streaming services.

They settled on a movie that neither had seen but had good reviews, and settled into watching it rather quickly. About twenty minutes in, (Y/N) offered to go get some more wine. Instead of sitting in her normal spot when she returned, she decided to move closer to where Tommy was on the couch to see how he'd react. He said nothing, just accepted his wine with a smile and focused back on the movie. (Y/N) smiled at that and looked back at the screen as well.

Several minutes into watching the movie again, Tommy rested his hand on (Y/N)’s thigh that was closest to his. He set it on it gently at first, as if he was testing the waters, but after a few minutes of nothing said, he pressed his fingertips into her skin slightly. From the corner of his eye, he could see her glance over at him. This only made him grin.

Some more minutes passed before (Y/N) decided to make the next move. Tommy's hand was still resting on her thigh, so she decided to lift her legs up and lay them over his thighs to see how he'd react. He moved his hand as she made her move and then brought it down to rest on her kneecap so that he could hold her legs in place. She felt his eyes on her, so she looked over at him, which almost immediately made butterflies erupt in her stomach. They held eye contact for a few moments before she looked away, her cheeks heating up along with the rest of her body.

"I really like him!" came out of nowhere from the cage in the corner of the room, followed by a loud 'squawk'. (Y/N)'s eyes widened as she heard what Chip had just said, and if she wasn't blushing before, now she certainly was.

I hope that he didn't hear that! she screamed internally as she dared to look in Tommy's direction. Her embarrassment only increased when she found him staring back at her with eyes full of shock. Immediately, she went to cover what her bird had said: "he's just saying what I say about Harry Styles," she told him, laughing sheepishly in hopes to play this announcement off as normal.

"Ohh," Tommy drew out the word as he nodded, his eyebrows raised slightly at her admission. He knew that it wasn't a whole-truth, she listened to his music, sure, but she wasn't one of those superfans that dedicate their life to an artist. But at the same time, he could see that she was pretty flustered by her feathered friend's outburst, so he didn't comment on her explanation of it. He simply squeezed her knee and focused his attention back on the movie; playing catch-up now because he'd missed a few moments of it.

"I can back it up if you want," (Y/N) stated, trying to make the air around them less awkward. She was internally thanking the gods for sparing her the conversation she thought she'd be having. She should have known better to not have conversations with her friends about her crush on Tommy in the same room as Chip. That bird was all ears and had a track record of blurting out things like this.

"No, it's fine," he brushed her off, and she nodded before they went back to watching the movie.

They were able to watch a good bit more of the movie before Chip was talking again: "Tommy Shelby!" he squawked before proceeding to make kissing noises.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened at the bird's words. "Chip, I swear, shhhh!" she exclaimed in a harsh whisper after she realized that he was going to keep making the kissing noises until he got yelled at. Another trait that bird had was that he didn't know when to stop. She then squeezed her eyes shut, not even wanting to see what Tommy's reaction to the statement was. It took her a few seconds to muster up the courage to open her eyes again, but when she did, she immediately took to apologizing. "I'm sorry that he just said that. He always listens to my gossiping, and then he..."

"There's no need to apologize, (Y/N)," he cut her off before she could get into rambling on.

"I know, but I just feel so embarrassed that you had to find out about my crush on you from my bird," she said, trying to keep her cheeks from heating up anymore as she finally admitted her crush on him. It was pretty much out there in the open already...why not just own it?

"I mean I kind of already figured it..." Tommy trailed off, a slight smile on his face, "we're here cuddling 'n all...I'd hope you'd have an interest in me," he added, his words making (Y/N) exhale a giddy laugh. A huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders upon hearing what he had to say. A part of her was still expecting him to reject her. They focused back on the movie then, and (Y/N) finally felt her cheeks start to cool down. She could still feel Tommy looking over at her from time to time, but she decided to ignore it instead of giving herself the opportunity to make a fool out of herself again. "So that first statement wasn't referring to Harry Styles then?" he finally broke the silence and asked her, this time making her turn to face him.

A sheepish smile formed on her face as she shook her head. "No," she responded verbally, laughing slightly as a grin formed on Tommy's face.

"Well that's good because I'd like to know that before I went and did this," he stated before he started to lean in towards her. Holy shit!, (Y/N)'s mind was screaming as it felt like time was going in slow motion, holy shit, he's going to kiss me!. She said nothing though, and instead let her eyes flutter closed as she felt his breath fan across her lips.

Before their lips could touch, Chip'd chimed in with one more statement: "kiss the girl!" he exclaimed, making (Y/N) and Tommy pull back slightly and begin laughing.

"That'd be from The Little Mermaid," (Y/N) said in between her laughter as she looked over at Tommy.

"No," Tommy shook his head, "that'd be your bird being my wingman," he finished his statement, his words making another round of butterflies erupt in her stomach. He grinned at her as he leaned in again, this time leaving no room for the bird to interrupt as he pressed his lips to (Y/N)'s.

(Y/N) quickly kissed him back, her hand slipping behind his neck so that she could hold him close to her as their lips moved together seamlessly. Tommy's hand slid up her thigh, grabbing onto the swell of her hip so that he could manage to bring her body just the slightest bit closer to his. His tongue ran across her bottom lip, asking for entrance, and she was just about to give it to him when he pulled away with an 'oof'.

She opened her eyes to find that Simon had now (literally) joined the party by jumping onto Tommy's lap, effectively knocking the wind out of him in the process. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth, hoping that Tommy wouldn't notice the fact that she was trying to hold in her laughter.

"I'm guessing that this is Simon," he said when he finally had regained his breathing, looking down at the cat, who'd already made himself comfortable in the little crevice present between his abdomen and (Y/N)'s leg.

"That would be Simon," (Y/N) responded with stifled laughter, "and I think that he likes you," she pointed out, smiling at Tommy.

Tommy dropped his head back against the couch's cushion as he sent a grin in (Y/N)'s direction. He was glad that his interest in (Y/N) was requited, and that she seemed to be open to exploring things further with him. His only hope was that the next time they spent together, whether it be in the next few days or the next few minutes, would be without the added company of her lovely animals. But for now, he just looked at her with adoration as she giggled at the scene in front of her, his one hand petting the cat that had now taken up residence on his lap.

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @lovemissyhoneybee @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @lora21 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @dragons-are-my-favorite @sunsetbeachesandwriting @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel

MASTERLIST

[keiththecat]

Admissible (Part Three)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader (You)

Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort

Author's Note: Here's part three! Hope you're enjoying so far! Feel free to message me if you have any questions or concerns about anything. Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love so far! <3

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.

Part One

AO3 link here

Despite only getting a few hours of sleep and being awake before the sunrise, you feel lighter and more rested than you have in years. However, knowing that you’ll leave the Winchesters today leaves a surprisingly bitter taste in your mouth. It’ll be fine, you remind yourself. You’ve made it this long by yourself. You can keep in touch, if they want to. Maybe your paths will cross again.

You spend the morning searching news articles across the country, hoping that you can find something to give you a destination and a hunt. No time to be sad about this crush if I’m busy killing things. You hear the Impala leave the motel around 8:30AM, indicating Dean is going to fix your car. A while later, Bobby calls you.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Still with the boys?” He asks.

“Yeah? Why?”

“Gonna need ya to head this way with them when you’re done there,” he says. “Got somethin’ suspicious up this way, you’re the closest group.”

“Oh, we’re a group now, are we, Bobby?” You tease.

“Well am I wrong?” He asks. You grumble in response, hating his ability to see right through you. “‘S what I thought. I’ll send you the info, you can pass it along to them.”

“Alright, Bobby, I’ll let them know. We’ll head out from here as soon as my car is fixed.” You say your goodbyes and hang up, forming a group text message with the brothers.

[Group Message: Three’s Company]

[Y/N 9:55AM: Bobby has a case, asked for the three of us. Said we’re the closest. Wakefield, Nebraska.]

[Dean 9:58AM: Got it. Should be done your car in the next 30]

You set about cleaning your weapons to pass the time, disassembling your pistol to thoroughly clean the inside. Once it is clean and back together, you clean up the salt lines as best you can and pick up your sigil trap mats, rolling them up so they’ll fit back in your bag. You run through a quick inventory in your mind, making sure you have everything packed away. Pistol, knives, sigils, salt, lamb’s blood, holy water, clothes, toiletries, journal, lighter fluid, matches, phone charger… You’re interrupted by your phone.

[Group Message: Three’s Company]

[Dean 10:25AM: Car’s done. On my way back to you guys. Be ready to leave]

Confident that you have all your things, you grab your bags, leave your key on the desk in the motel’s office, and head back toward room 9. Sam comes out of the room, bags in hand, and runs right into you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Y/N! Didn’t see you there.”

“All good, Lurch,” you smirk. “Need a hand?”

“‘Lurch’?” He asks, shaking his head with a laugh. “Actually, help would be great. Return our key for me?”

You agree, take the key and return it. When you come back out, Dean has returned and they are loading their bags into the Impala.

“Alright, boys. What’s the plan?” you call out as you get closer.

“We were just talking about that,” Dean answers. “We can drop you at your car and head to Nebraska from there?”

“Or we could all swing by the bunker, leave your car there, and go to Nebraska together?” Sam proposes. “You know, since we’re all going to the same place anyway.”

You think for a moment. More time with them, I guess. Here’s the cliff, time to choose: jump or hide tail and run. “Sure, sounds good.” Might as well embrace it. Maybe I can manage to at least get some friends out of this deal.

Sam’s shy but ecstatic grin in response could light up the darkest of nights, eyes shining. “Awesome.”

Dean glances between the two of you, a knowing smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, good idea, Sammy. Glad that big head is good for something.” He roughs up Sam’s hair, and Sam makes a face, smacking Dean’s hands away. You laugh at their antics, wondering just what kind of shenanigans you’ve agreed to. 

*

Just over half an hour later, you are following the Impala into a well-hidden tunnel. Damn, this is cool. You find yourself feeling jealous that not only do they have a place to call home, but it’s like something out of a movie. Dean slows the Impala to a stop, pointing his arm out the window to show you where you can park. You pull into the empty spot, looking at all the vehicles they have in appreciation and wondering which of them rides the motorcycles. Probably Dean.

You grab your bags, leave your car keys in the visor, and pat the hood of your car goodbye. Sam is waiting at the trunk of the Impala to take your bags. “You sure this is okay?”

“Yeah, Sam. A longer ride in the Impala? Of course it’s cool.”

Your bags secure in the trunk, you hop into the back seat and Sam back into the passenger seat. Dean pulls out of the garage, heading north.

*

A few hours later finds you and the Winchesters pulling into a diner’s parking lot in Wakefield, Dean explaining, “My brain shuts down when I’m hungry. We eat, then we plan.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “Your brain doesn’t plan even on a full stomach, Dean.”

Dean gives him a dirty look, getting out of the car and heading into the diner. You and Sam follow him in. Dean sits on one side of a booth, Sam sits on the other, and you debate for a moment before waving them to the corner booth instead. The boys comply, coming to the corner booth. Dean sits with his back to the dining area, Sam sits on the opposite side in the corner and you slide in next to Sam. After scanning the room, you notice the boys watching you, Sam with both eyebrows raised in question and Dean with his brows furrowed at you.

You debate for a second, then decide that you should explain your thought process. “Corner. No surprises from behind.”

The boys take a moment to consider before nodding. Three exits: front door, side door, back door through kitchen. Windows on two sides.

“I think talking to the Mullen family is where we should start. Their teenage son died in a swimming pool a few days ago,” Sam states, glancing over the menu.

The waitress comes by, takes your orders. She’s small with short grey hair, probably in her 60s. You all get coffee, Dean gets a burger, you and Sam get salads. She scurries away, promising it’ll only be a moment.

“People die swimming all the time,” Dean reasons, “What makes it our business?”

“He was basically a professional, on track to be the youngest competitor in the next Olympics actually,” Sam answers before you can.

“I vote we get rooms, we can change clothes, and drive to their house. Talk to them, feel them out a little. The sun hasn’t even set yet,” you suggest and the brothers agree.

The waitress brings your drinks and food, your table comfortably silent while you all eat your first meal of the day. 

After your meal is finished and you’ve paid, you pile back into the Impala, find a motel, and grab two rooms. You go into your single, the boys go into their double. You cleanse the room, set up your salt lines and sigil trap mats. You change into your monkey suit, grab your fake FBI badge, load yourself up with your weapons, and step outside. Both Winchesters are leaning against the Impala, Dean’s arms crossed and Sam running his fingers through his hair.

“Ready, slowpokes?” You joke. The boys snort out laughs, getting into the car and you follow. 

As you’re pulling up next to the Mullen household, an ambulance speeds by with lights and siren on. The three of you look at each other. “You two talk to them, I’ll check that out?” Dean asks, gesturing over his shoulder in the direction of the ambulance. You and Sam agree, getting out of the car quickly and Dean speeds off.

“Alright then. You want to take the lead?” Sam asks you.

“You go ahead. You’ve got that likable face.”

He nods, smiling a little. You both walk up to the door, you behind Sam. He knocks on the door, and a short, stout woman in her 40s answers. “Yes?”

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am. Agents Nichols and Kelley with the FBI. We were hoping to ask you some questions about Cole,” Sam says, you both flashing your badges before returning them to your pockets.

She opens the door, letting you both in and leading the way. “Sure, sure. Anything to get some answers for my boy. Can I get you both anything?” she asks.

“No, we’re fine, thank you,” Sam answers. You notice the pictures hanging in the hallway on your way by. There are countless pictures hanging, all showing Cole at different ages, gold medals hanging around his neck and a bright smile on his face. Definitely not a lack of skill or knowledge that caused this.

You join them in the living room, you and Sam sitting on the couch and Missus Mullen sitting across from you in a chair. “I’m surprised you all are here, the local police seemed convinced it was an accident. I had to fight for them to do an autopsy,” her voice breaks, tears starting to fall. You grab the box of tissues off the coffee table and offer it to her, she takes one and blows her nose. 

“Sometimes these things get passed to other offices,” Sam explains. “If you don’t mind, what can you tell us about Cole?”

“Well,” she starts, “he was a normal, happy kid. Perfect grades in school. Never got into trouble. He loved swimming. It was his whole life.”

“And he was very proficient at it, wasn’t he?” Sam asks.

“He was. Always first place in competitions. We registered him for the next Olympic trials meet.” she explains, wiping her eyes.

“Was there anything weird the day he died? Or in the days leading up to it?” you ask.

“No, nothing.” she answers. “That’s what I’ve been asking myself too. But nothing was weird. He ate his lunch like he always does, and then he got in the pool and didn’t come back out.”

“He didn’t struggle? Yell for help?” Sam asks.

“Nothing like that, no. It looked like he grabbed his stomach, but then he just sank.”

You and Sam look at each other before you address her again, “Thank you for your time, Missus Mullen. We’ll look into everything and be in touch. So sorry again.” You hand her a business card as you and Sam get up to leave.

“Thank you, Agents,” she says, closing the door once you’re outside.

Both of your phones ding at the same time.

[Group Message: Three’s Company]

[Dean 7:11PM: You guys ready to be picked up? You won’t believe what I found at the hospital]

[Sam 7:11PM: Yeah, come get us]

“Well that was weirdly normal, yet also super weird at the same time,” you say.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Sam says, smiling a little at your wording.

*

You find yourselves back at the motel in no time, all in the Winchesters’ room. You’re sitting with your legs tucked under you on the couch, Sam is sitting in a chair at the table with his laptop open in front of him, and Dean is sitting on his bed with his legs stretched out in front of him and his back against the headboard. 

“What do you mean, ‘gum?’” You ask again.

“I’m telling you,” Dean explains, “it was gum. They rushed the kid into surgery and his stomach was packed totally full of chewed gum.”

“That makes no sense though,” Sam says, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead with his fingers.

“I know it doesn’t but that’s what it was,” Dean shrugs, then snaps his fingers, “Oh! And there was another kid there whose eyes were stuck crossed. His mom was yelling that he was making faces and his eyes just got stuck like that. They’re having a weird day at that hospital.”

“Okay,” you say, “let’s just lay this all out. A kid with his stomach full of gum, a kid with his eyes stuck, a kid drowned after eating his lunch... These are all old wives’ tales, aren’t they?”

Sam lifts his head to look at you, “you’re right. But what is causing them to be true?”

“A witch?” You propose.

“Ughhh, I hate witches,” Dean groans, throwing his head back against the wall.

“Maybe,” Sam agrees. “What if they wanted a specific one to be true but they weren’t specific enough in their spell?”

“Then they suck,” Dean says, pouting like a child at the thought of dealing with a witch.

You laugh a little, “I mean, you’re not wrong, Dean.”

“I know I’m not. I’m always right. And witches always suck.”

“Getting back on track,” Sam interrupts, “how do we find them?”

“What if we look for someone who had good luck recently? Lottery or love?” You wonder out loud.

“Genius,” Sam says, starting to type on this laptop. “I could just kiss your brain.”

You blush and tuck your chin, trying to hide subtly. Dean grins at you, noticing your rosy cheeks. You take a deep breath, willing your face to return to normal color.

“So get this,” Sam says, “there was a marriage announcement in the paper yesterday. Says the man and woman only met two days before getting married, calling it ‘love at first sight.’”

“That fits. I’d call love at first sight an old wives’ tale.” You reason.

“Well, I don't know about that,” Dean argues. “It seems like it can happen for some people.”

You and Sam look at him in shock. You know enough about his love-them-and-leave-them habits from talking with other hunters. “Are you sick?” You ask, getting up to put a hand on Dean’s forehead and check for fever.

He smacks your hand away, “No, I’m not sick. Get off me. I’m just saying, for some people, not me, but it might happen for some.” He pointedly smirks at you.

Your teasing attitude immediately melts away and your face falls, realizing he is hinting at your feelings for his brother. You’re very glad that Sam is behind you and can’t see your reaction. You give Dean the smallest of head shakes, hoping he’ll take pity on you and keep his mouth shut.

“Yeah, sure, Dean,” Sam says behind you, scoffing. “As if you’d suddenly start believing in something like that.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess,” Dean agrees, thankfully seeming to drop it. “So do we think the witch is him or her?”

“Well, I’ve got a way to find out,” Sam says, “but we’ll have to separate them.”

Sam, apparently incredibly skilled with spell work, explains that he can cast a spell to locate the witch who cast the original spell, but it will only give him a location. It’s decided that you and Dean will separate the couple to two different areas of town under the guise of them each winning a party, bachelor party for him and bachelorette for her. The biggest con to this plan is that as soon as the witch is revealed to Sam, the witch will be aware that they are being targeted. Sam will call whichever one of you needs to attack and you’ll need to act fast.

Sam gives you a few witch-killing bullets, and you load them into your pistol. You ‘borrow’ a car from the parking lot for the evening. Sam gathers some supplies from the Impala, and has everything set up for the spell within a few minutes. 

“Alright, we all ready?” Dean asks, loading his own witch-killing bullets and placing his pistol in the back of his jeans.

You and Sam respond affirmatively. The boys give each other a pat on the shoulder. With that, you and Dean leave, him in the Impala and you in your ‘borrowed’ sedan. You glance back up at the motel when you’re pulling away to see Sam in the window of the room, giving you a small wave.

*

You and Dean park at the house where Claire and Mick Allen live. You walk up to the door together, and Dean knocks on the door.

After several moments, Mick opens the door. He’s an average looking guy, brown hair, and in his 30s. “Can I help you?”

“Congratulations! You and your wife have won!” You exclaim.

“Won what? What is this, honey?” Claire comes to the door, standing beside her husband. She’s petite, has long blonde hair, and looks to be in her late 30s.

“Well, ma’am, we are part of a company called Eternal Love. We have a team who monitors marriages, and we choose couples monthly who get to go on all-expenses-paid bachelor and bachelorette parties. You lovely people are the winners this month!” You explain, trying to sound excited.

“Oh wow, sweetie,” Mick says to Claire, “This is awesome! We didn’t get the chance to go before the wedding.”

“Aw, how perfect!” Dean says. “Well, we’ll just need you both to pack overnight bags and we can be on our way. Don’t worry about the late hour, we will take care of driving and you can rest on the way.”

“Oh, I don’t know, honey,” Claire says.

“Let’s do it, sweetie. It’s all paid for.” Mick argues.

Claire still seems hesitant, but Mick turns to you and Dean, “We’ll do it. We’ll go pack and be right back.” Mick ushers his wife back into the house and closes the door.

You and Dean wait impatiently. The couple returns after a few minutes, each with a small duffel bag in their hands. You usher Claire to your car, Dean ushers Mick to his. You pull out your phones before getting inside.

[Group Message: Three’s Company]

[Dean 8:59PM: I have Mick. Heading east]

[Y/N 8:59PM: I have Claire. Heading west]

You each get in, pulling away and driving in opposite directions. The only noise in the car is the quiet sounds coming from the radio for several minutes. Then Claire speaks up, “So where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” you answer. “I promise it’ll be worth it. We should get there in about half an hour.”

“Oh. Okay,” she responds, disappointed that you wouldn’t give her more information.

“So how long have you two known each other?” You ask, trying to kill time.

“Not very long,” she admits. “Only a few days, really.”

“Wow, love at first sight, huh?”

“Yeah, it was,” she says.

You focus on appearing relaxed, but you keep your muscles tense, ready to grab your pistol if your phone rings. You’re driving for a few more minutes before Claire gasps and starts crying. “Oh my God, why did I marry him? I don’t even know him!”

You realize that the spell must have broken, meaning Dean got rid of Mick. You start trying to calm Claire down and explain what happened when your phone rings.

“It’s not her,” you answer.

“I think something happened to Dean, he won’t answer.” Sam says quickly.

You turn the car around to speed in the direction Dean drove. “Well he did something because the spell is broken. I’m going to look for him. Where did your spell lead?”

“Industrial Road, east of town.”

“Claire, I need you to lead me to Industrial Road, quickly.” 

She looks at you, still panicked.

“Claire, I promise I will explain everything but I need you to help me. Can you do that? Please?” You beg.

She nods, leading you through town and to Industrial Road. You put Sam on speakerphone and laid your phone on the dash, focusing on looking for any sign of the Impala or Dean.

“There’s a car there!” Claire says, pointing.

You pull off to the side, slamming the car into park and jump out, leaving Claire and your phone behind and telling her to stay in the car. The Impala is on the side of the road at an angle, both front doors thrown open. You pull out your pistol and flashlight, making your way into the trees. You find Mick first, laying face down, blood seeping into his shirt from a shot to the heart. You still check for a heartbeat, finding nothing. You’re continuing deeper into the trees when you hear a rustle behind you, spinning around with your pistol aimed at the noise.

“Woah, woah, Y/N, it’s me!”

“Dean?” Your eyes register him standing in front you, left eye swollen and blood running down the side of his face. On instinct, you rush forward and wrap your arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re okay, I got so scared when Sam called,” you say into his chest. Can’t believe I like these boys this much already.

He pats your back, “yeah, yeah, I’m fine. You good?”

“Oh my God!” you say, realizing you left Sam on the phone in the car. You pull away and run back to the car with Dean following behind. Claire is holding your phone, watching the trees, and she gets out of the car to hand the phone to you when she sees you coming.

“Sam, I found him, he’s okay,” you tell him. “A little beat up but okay.”

You hear a sigh of relief on the other side of the phone. “Good, I’m glad. Take care of things there and come back, okay?”

“Yeah, we will, Sam. See you soon.”

Part Four

[jafndaegur]

Love like You

Mystic Messenger

Jumin Han x Reader

Calling Jumin feels awkward. You've only been in the messenger for two days and hardly know anyone. But the nagging feeling of the conversation between Seven and Jumin leaves a horrible pit in your stomach.

"I heard Jumin is gay..." Seven had said.

If you said the statement hadn't piqued your interest, you'd be lying. After all, no one believed you when you said you weren't a girl—just because Seven had disclaimed it and said you looked like a girl. Your voice being so high doesn't help the case, but a book cover can be very different from the actual story it holds.

I'm very open-minded. The statement you make was hurried and quick, you had wanted to make sure you had mention something in case Jumin is...well, is like you. Yet somehow that simple text of yours was turned on itself and made into another joke.

"Isn't it rather late to be calling?" Jumin's voice suddenly and tersely cuts through the line.

You want to make it right.

"Jumin." Your voice is much more serious than you intended.

On the other end, you can hear him sit up a little more, readjusting and assessing. "We just spoke in the messenger. Is everything alright?"

"No." You say evenly, taking a deep breath. Knowing with the corporate heir, the best way to approach this would be calmly and logically. "At least I don't believe so."

"I'm sorry, " he says it so genuinely, that you wish you'd clarified why things weren't okay first. "While I'm not equipped to handle formal complaints in regards to the RFA, I will be sure to pass on any concerns to V."

"No, I wanted to apologize. To you."

"To me? As far as I know, you've made no transgressions."

"For what happened in the chatroom, I wanted to apologize to you." You say earnestly.

The sigh he makes is less understanding and more annoyed. "It's a ridiculous prank that Luciel and the others enjoy prolonging. The fact that you too have jumped on such a joke is not surprising—"

"I meant what I said!" You interject quickly, hoping you catch him before he decides to hang up. "Really and truly. Such affairs to gossip like that, they're private and personal. And to make light of it is a slight on that trust of privacy. But...I genuinely meant what I said."

He says nothing, his breath a soft and steady pattern for you to listen to. You close your eyes and wonder what he looks like in that moment. Is he disgusted? Intrigued? Or entirely disinterested altogether?

"It is no one's business in regards to who you love," you say softly. "And who, whether it's a man, a woman...or just a person making their way—it shouldn't matter. If you love them and they love you in return, and you're willing to treat each other as equals as you work through life together...then what does it matter?"

"You surprise me by the hour," Jumin finally says. It is a gentle and murmured comment. "I admit I've never given it much thought. But I like how straight-forward you've made it."

"So you're not—?"

"It's never been a forefront concern of mine, but I suppose I don't have a preference either way."

You smile to yourself.

"Perhaps, at the end of the day, I would love a person making their way, doing their best." You swear there is something knowing in his voice and you can't help but wonder...

"Jumin, I—"

And once again he cuts you short. "I'd like to disclaim, I do not wish for you to feel like you must share your own experience as I've shared mine...if there's something you're not inclined to disclose yet, don't feel like you must."

Your heart beats a bit against your ribcage. It's a lovely and anticipant flutter. "In my defense, I don't think I've been subtle."

"Oh?" He asks, bemusement seeping through the tone.

"I did, after all, come distinctly forward and say I wasn't a girl," you laugh.

At Jumin's hesitation, you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. "...are you a man?"

"Perhaps..." You smile. "Perhaps I'm just an ordinary person making my way and doing my best."

He chuckles, it is low and warm. You can't help the feeling of your heart and chest warming, like the slow steep of liquor once you've taken a drink.

"Well said," Jumin murmurs.

[chaoticgremlinbrainspace]

wow me thinking about dick Greyson? more likely than you think!

Disclaimer I am just a guy on the internet having a self indulgence time for fun, my grasp on canon vs Fanon is shakier than when I tried rope climbing in P.E also I am not a trained medical professional all things related to adhd I talk about come from Personal Experience or further research FOOD AND TEXTURE: fun fact, people with adhd can hyper fixate on foods, found that out from my mom’s doctor. so I think dick definitely has foods that he fixates on and will prefer to eat over other foods. also he would have foods he just can't fucking eat because of taste or texture, like for example when I was younger I refused to eat fried eggs but I would eat boiled eggs, even better example jellies and puddings are things I can eat bc it activates my gag reflex and I hate the way they feel, physically can't swallow them without feeling sick. so ya know ya boy is gonna project that onto the dickster lol. I think he would probably hyperfixate on foods that fall into a similar category of each other I know I do lol. my food hyperfication has been crushed up instant ramen. and has been for a while but specially a certain kind. think dick would hyperfixate on certain brands of cereal because ive seen the “dick likes sugar cereal” thing floating around, and because this the projection corner I think he prefers to eat it a certain way, probably dry because of easy transporting and he can bring as a quick snack for when hes on the go, but I think he also would like the crunchy texture and mouth feel. again projection corner I think he would fucking hate gelatinous foods with a passion. but also like gritty foods would probably be a no go. like he can eat them if he needs too because bat training and all that doesn't mean he would enjoy it lol. and like I feel like when hes knighting hes just in a consent state of near discomfort bc hes masking so hard(lol)  so when hes dick Greyson he sorta lets lose a bit and his symptoms are worse or hes allowed to be particular about things like food when hes a civilian.  and I think he probably likes the texture of the nightwing suit otherwise he would peel his skin off. projecting is fun so I think he would hate rough and scratchy clothes and bed sheets are the bane of his existence so he kicks them off before going to bed other wise he can't sleep. he probably fidgets with his gadgets quite a bit especially when on patrol and hes looking around and nothing much is happening. I think dick would do the leg bounce tm as a civilian a lot maybe play with his hair if its long, or just generally messing with with when hes nervous or fidgeting. idk I guess im making nightwing his “nooo guys dw im super normal im just like everyone I am a functional put together adult haha” which its funny bc masking. I think this dude would have so many built in work arounds like (projecting) audio processing problems, so he probably has people either reapet or smth to like record and play back that or hes just really smooth about (smile and nod and hope to god that was the correct answer) anyway sorry back on topic, i  have dick having a stuffed animal named zitka (?) that an elephant and like hell yeah, but also I think his thing is very much a “ive had a bad time today and I just need to destress for a bit and hold something soft/familiar in a dark room for a bit” as you can tell I am projecting onto dick Greyson a lot lol. anyway I think he would also struggle to like, eat consistently, like eating too much or eating too little bc he gets distracted with a case then over compensates or he gets bored and then eats to get some form of stimulation(I do this lol) I just think dick would chew on things but be embarrassed about it(projection) but yeah I just think this asshole would have a system tm that no one else gets bc his room just looks dirty as hell but hes like Nono guys I set my bag and wallet in the same spot in the corner of the room because if I dont I will spend 30 minutes looking for it and it will be in the freezer. that and I think he would either do really well with cold foods or really badly. I think dick is the kinda guy that would leave his sodas out overnight so they stop being fizzy bc he hates the feeling of the fizz(projecting) but yeah overall I think he prefer sweeter foods as like his comfort/perfered foods. I also like the hc that he can cook he just doesn't have a lot of time too, so he snacks a lot bc he needs the energy. adding my own shit onto it, executive dysfunction got his ass like “I could get up and make a sandwich I know what I need to do I have the ingredients and im hungry but I can't fucking get up to do it” anyway funtimes in hyperfixation with grem thanks for reading the insane rambles <3

[frizz22]

Converts

Moonshine Madam prompt: it's not actually such a well-kept secret that the Spellman’s are Satanists, perhaps a confrontation with some Church members in Greendale? Nothing to serious, just something lighthearted?

Thanks for the prompt! Read on ao3

They were relaxing in the parlor; it was the first Sunday all month they didn’t have a funeral service and Zelda had just flipped a record over before settling down to continue working on a puzzle with Hilda. Of course, their quiet afternoon was interrupted moments later, Ambrose barreling in.

“They’re back!” He grinned, eyes alight with mischief.

Hilda looked up at him, brow furrowed. “Who, love?”

Barely able to contain himself, Ambrose clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “The oh so righteous parishioners of Greendale’s Evangelical Church. Come to help us sinners see the error in our ways.” 

Zelda sat up, excited. “Really?”

“Just set off the perimeter wards. We have ten minutes at best.” He looked between them hopefully.

A wide smile spread across Zelda’s face. “Marvelous, it’s been ages since they’ve come around.” She was already standing up, waving a hand to put the puzzle away. “Places everyone.” Zelda instructed with malicious glee as she turned to transform the parlor from its everyday appearance.

Whooping in delight, Ambrose hurried off to the basement.

Hilda giggled and went to the chest pushed against the wall next to the fireplace and began pulling out various items. “They must have new blood, someone who thinks they can ‘get through to us poor lost souls’ at last.” She bit her lip to try and contain her excitement as she set a deck of tarot cards and a set of small animal bones with runes carved into them on the coffee table.

Humming in agreement, Zelda focused on her spell which was redecorating the room. Several upside down crosses adorned the walls, a pentagram appeared on the floor in uneven, red paint, Hilda’s spiders crawled along the ceiling weaving intricate webs, a Satanic bible popped up on one of the side tables and the final touch… an elaborate painting of Lucifer Morningstar with fresh wounds on his back materialized over the fireplace.

Giving her work an appraising look, Zelda faced her sister. “Yes, ‘us poor lost souls’. So prone to lust and greed and dark things.” She intoned dramatically. “And yet, I bet you I can make at least three of them think about having their way with me before they leave.” Cocking a brow, she snipped her fingers to change out of her regular clothes and into one of her racier nightgowns and robe; relishing in how horrified the parishioners would be at their spike of unclean lust for a Satanist.

An indelicate snort escaped her sister as she set out some tea and cookies. “Oh, that’s too easy. All of them will think that, if even for a moment. Mortals, despite all their supposed superiority, are no better than us; they just restrain and repress themselves.” Shaking her head at the notion, Hilda picked up her deck of cards and started to shuffle them. “Now, what I intend to do is more difficult, requires a bit more magic. I’m going to scare the Beelzebub out of them,” she grinned, flicking her wrist to turn her clothes into something more mystical.

Eyebrows raised in appreciation, Zelda turned to the mirror hanging on the wall to touch up her appearance. “The seer bit? You haven’t done that in some time. It will certainly have them sweating through those awful polyester Sunday suits.” She remarked, darkening her lipstick, mussing her hair and creating a prominent love-bite on her neck for good measure.

Her sister had an uncanny ability to read people; their motives, how their pasts played into their current and future actions. Hilda didn’t use it often, claimed the sensation could be overwhelming if not carefully controlled. But in times like this, well, what was the point of the ability if not to have some fun with it? And Hilda truly did make the most of it, coming off as intimidating and creepy with a sickly sweet sugarcoating.

“You’ll help sell it, right?” Hilda asked, tucking her hair into a scarf and putting her glasses on.

Happy with her debauched appearance, Zelda moved away from the mirror and towards the front door—their guests would be arriving any moment. “Of course, sister. It’s always amusing to watch them squirm under your scrutiny.” She winked and conjured a cigarette before gripping the front door handle and waiting, just a beat before pulling it open just as one of the parishioners raised their hand to knock. “Just leave out the back, Ellen,” Zelda called out to imaginary figure behind her. “And feel free to tell your husband about that little tongue trick. He’ll enjoy the result as much as I did.” Turning her head to the little group in front of her, Zelda eyed each buttoned up little false god peddler with a raised brow. “Ah, yes, right on time.” Taking a long draw of nicotine and blowing it at them, Zelda stepped aside. “Do come in.”

As expected, most of the group struggled to tear their eyes away from her, gazes lingering on her neck and chest—though Hilda was right in that it was almost too easy, Zelda still enjoyed the effect she had over the mortals, how she made them question themselves; even for a moment.

One woman among them was made of sturdier stuff, though, and pushed past her ogling entourage and walked inside. Her movement broke the trance the others were in and they shuffled behind her awkwardly, not making eye contact out of shame. When they all passed the threshold, the lights flickered, courtesy of Ambrose, and Zelda smothered a smile at how several of them jumped.

Clearing her throat, one woman spoke up, look at Zelda uncertainly. “Right on time, you said…” She murmured, warily taking in her surroundings.

A wide smile spread across Zelda’s lips and she ushered them deeper into the house. “Oh, my sister foresaw your arrival. She made tea and cookies for you,” she noted, taking her time leading the way to the parlor; wanting to play with them a little more before turning it over to Hilda. Zelda paused next to the parlor door, “could Father Michaels not make it?” She asked innocently, finger tracing the plunging neckline of her nightgown.

The priest at the church had come at least once a month for some time when he first assumed his position. Convinced he was doing the false god’s work and not only bringing the Spellman’s over to the light side, but also ridding Greendale of Satanists at the same time.

It’d been fun, at first, coming up with new and creative ways to torment the man. But the novelty soon wore off and they had things to do, a business to run without a bothersome mortal priest popping in at random times.  

So, to discourage him from returning, Zelda sent him several dreams in which he was engaged in a series of passionate activities with not only her, but Hilda and Ambrose as well. Ever since then, the man avoided them like the plague and grew incredibly flustered at the mere mention of the Spellman family—or so Zelda was told.

The act bought them almost half a year of peace before a group of brave parishioners, minus Father Michaels, appeared on their doorstep. Having taken it upon themselves to purge the devil and his worshippers from their midst. From then on, the visits of the good parishioners of Greendale’s Evangelical Church were sporadic, unpredictable. But it quickly became part of the game, seeing what they could come up with on the fly.

One of the men coughed and nervously tugged at the knot of his tie. “He, uh,” the man faltered, his eyes drifting down to Zelda’s chest before he wrenched them away with some difficulty. “He couldn’t make it today. Other matters to attend to.” He informed her gruffly, the tips of his ears burning red. And Zelda could tell the man was realizing one of the reasons why the priest avoided the Spellman house.

Humming in feigned displeasure, Zelda pushed the parlor door open and walked inside. “Have a seat,” she purred, eyeing each of the false god’s puppets salaciously as they filtered past her and into the next trap.

Undeterred, though mildly ruffled, their leader marched past her and into the parlor only to waver when she took in her surroundings. The rest of the group was quick to wilt as well as they uncomfortably took their seats on the couch across from Hilda; who was shuffling her tarot cards and smiling warmly at them… as if a ram’s skull was leering at them from the wall behind her.

“So kind of you to join us on this unholy day,” Hilda greeted a little breathily.

The comment had the leader looking scandalized. “Join you?” She demanded, “we’re here to—”

Holding up a hand, Hilda silenced her. “Mary Beth, I know why you’re here. You wish to try and save us. But we don’t need saving.” She smiled blithely at the woman.

Before Mary Beth could respond, a loud animalistic screech sounded from the basement, causing their guests to jump. Zelda hid a laugh; Ambrose was really playing it up this time.

Clearly shaken, Mary Beth collected herself. “How, how do you know my name?” She asked, face pale and eyes flicking to the ground where the sound originated and where muffled growls were still emanating.

Perching herself in the chair next to Hilda, Zelda crossed her legs regally and settled in for the show. Hilda would start by naming them all before introductions were made, sometimes listing little details about the guests or their pasts to unnerve them further. While she watched this all unfold, Zelda traced the fake bite mark on her neck, her gaze lingering on each parishioner in turn. Between her sister’s hauntingly accurate readings and Zelda’s own unabashed display of sexuality and sexual interest, they soon had the entire group visibly squirming.

There was one woman, though, Evelyn, who kept peeking at Zelda and blushing every time they made eye contact. Gifting the woman with a sinful smile, Zelda couldn’t help but think she might be able to play with this one later. When Evelyn smiled in return, Zelda’s hopes and eyebrows rose.  

It wasn’t until Mary Beth noticed their prolonged eye contact that she pinched Evelyn and the woman dropped her eyes…. Moments later, though, Zelda found the woman’s eyes back on her. Oh, she almost regretted what they were about to do next, for it would surely scare Evelyn away and ruin Zelda’s chances at bedding her; and she would have loved to corrupt the mortal—especially one with the name like Eve.

Before she could think of how to signal Ambrose to wait, her nephew came bursting into the parlor, the basement door still hanging open behind him and unsettling sounds echoing up the stairs. Compared to Ambrose, though, the noises were the least of their guests’ concern. Arms covered in blood up to the elbow and holding up fake intestines, Ambrose came to a stop in front of them; seemingly oblivious to the parishioner.

“Aunties, the signs don’t look—, oh! I didn’t realize we had company.” He smiled graciously at the group, and up close Zelda could make out flecks of blood along his chest and face as well. “I’m sorry, I’ll just double check the results using a rabbit. You know how unreliable weasels can be,” he grinned and shook his head in amusement. “But, I will leave these—” Ambrose laid the intestines on the coffee table next to the tray of tea and cookies with exaggerated care, “here for your consultation.”   Nodding politely at everyone, Ambrose took his leave and made for the basement once more, snapping the door shut behind him.

Understandably, the color drained from each of the parishioners’ faces and they made their hasty departures soon after, not even cracking out the false god’s bible before they turned tail. As they retreated across the lawn, Hilda and Zelda bade them goodbye from the porch, waving and loudly thanking Satan for the visit. Evelyn was the only one to turn back, a small, if somewhat perplexed, smile on her face as her eyes flicked up and down Zelda once more before shifting to follow the others.

Once the group all but ran around the curve in the road, Hilda couldn’t contain her mirth any longer and snorted; and though she fought it, Zelda guffawed as well, clutching her side as they made their way back into the house where Ambrose was eagerly waiting for them.

They lounged in the parlor, consuming the tea and cookies their would-be saviors hadn’t touched and gleefully reliving the events of the past thirty minutes. It was here that Sabrina found them, having just gotten home from a study session with Roz and Susie.

“So, I just passed a group of horrified looking people on my way home….” She began, blinking when they all broke into fresh bouts of laughter. Warily, Sabrina set her bag down and took note in her surroundings. “What, what is all of this? What happened?” She demanded, gesturing to the decorations, the fake intestines still on the table and their attire.

Wiping the corner of her eyes, Hilda managed to catch her breath first to answer. “Oh, lamb, you missed it. And it would have been the first one you could participate in…” She frowned a little in disappointment, but her eyes were still twinkling with amusement.

Zelda lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and released the smoke with a content sigh. “We just had a lovely visit from the parishioners of Greendale’s Evangelical Church.” They all chuckled again, unable to help themselves, as they settled more comfortably in their seats.

Casting them a dubious look, Sabrina took a seat on the edge of one of the chairs. “I don’t think they felt the same.” She informed them, admonishment coloring her tone.

“Oh coz, don’t go getting all righteous on us. They’re the ones who felt compelled to interrupt our Sunday with their false god drivel.” Ambrose remarked, sprawled sideways in his chair, legs hanging over the armrest.

When Sabrina looked ready to argue, Zelda knocked some of the ash of her cigarette and talked before her niece could. “Besides, we can’t have them dropping by any time they please. They might actually witness something of substance. This is just our way of… discouraging their visits.” She justified with a slight shrug.

“And it’s fun.” Hilda giggled, taking another cookie.

Arching a brow, Zelda smirked. “And that.”

“Especially for you, Aunt Zee. Evelyn couldn’t keep her eyes off you.” Ambrose grinned wickedly, “going to seduce another mortal away from the false god?”

She brushed her hair back and took another drag of nicotine. “One can only hope,” she murmured, a mischievous glint in her eye. “The most devout ones are often the most fun in bed; they’ve been suppressing their desires for so long it all just comes bursting out.”

Scandalized, Sabrina’s mouth dropped open. “Auntie! You can’t mess with someone’s feelings—”

Rolling her eyes, Zelda stubbed her cigarette out. “Sex doesn’t always involve ‘feelings’, Sabrina. It’s usually about carnal pleasure, and if Evelyn wants me to provide that… who I am to object?” She inclined her head at her niece and continued. “In any case, if they are intent on ‘saving us’, it’s only fair I try and do the same for them. Though, I must say my way is much more gratifying.” Zelda leaned forward and selected a cookie from the tray.

Ever the peace-maker, Hilda patted Sabrina’s knee. “They did bring this upon themselves by trying to come and convert us, love. And don’t be upset with your auntie,” she flashed a look Zelda’s way which she dutifully ignored. “She only… woos the ones who are willing.”

Ambrose snorted, “woos, yeah that’s what she does. That’s what her nightgown, makeup and bite mark scream… wooing.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Zelda swatted at him good-naturedly.

Of course, Sabrina couldn’t see the innocence and fun in their actions that afternoon. “It’s really not nice to mess with them. They’re just—” She began, shaking her head and tone disapproving.

Groaning loudly, Ambrose went limp in his seat, practically sliding out of it in his dramatics. “Get off your high horse, coz.” Zelda snickered and the corner of her mouth curled up into a smile at her nephew’s antics. Sabrina was less than amused.

Smiling gently, Hilda handed their niece some tea. “It’s all in good fun, darling. No one gets hurt and we keep our reputation in town.”

Suspiciously taking the cup, Sabrina eyed them. “What reputation?”

Chuckling, Zelda leaned back in her seat and clasped her hands in front of her. “That Spellmans aren’t to be trifled with, of course.” She quirked a brow as Hilda and Ambrose hummed their agreement before going back to recounting their afternoon.

[miniimapp]

4*TOWN as Your Seatmate in Class - Highschool AU

Gen. ;; Fluff + tiny amounts of angst - Headcanons/Scenarios

Warnings ;; Bullying + Stress (Robaire's section)

Proofread + Edited ;; No, sorry !!

Auth. Note ;; This was supposed to be posted yesterday but I'm an idiot and forgot to finish Tae Young's section and when I noticed I was too tired to write anything remotely good :'D !!

Also, quick disclaimer, I'm not American so I have no idea what type of school system they have over there, I'm basing this high school experience off of my own experience :)

I really struggled with writing Z's and Tae's and I think it's obvious in both the length and the quality so I hope you can forgive me (especially Tae's in comparison to the last one)

Enjoy !!

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

Aaron T - The One Who Steals Your Shit

It's a hate-love relationship

You hate when he asks to borrow your stuff

You love when he leaves you alone

Not one single class goes by where T isn't asking you for something

A pencil, a pen, a ruler, a rubber (eraser), tape, colouring pencils, specifically a purple crayon, post-it notes, a compass and protractor, glue - things that you can find in most shops

Has this man never heard of the stationary section ??

You don't even know why T needs half the stuff he asks you for given it's an English class but there we go-

It's gotten to the point where you're just giving him your pencil case before he even opens his mouth

T gets this goofy grin whenever you give him what he needs (which is every time he asks)

And maybe you keep giving him your stuff just to see that grin

What of it ??

Look,, I'm not saying you're a simp

But I'm not not saying you're a simp either

It's okay, we all go through our phases

One day I'm sure you'll be able to look at a pretty boy and not throw your empty wallet at his feet

But until that day it looks like Mr. Aaron T has got you wrapped around his finger

It's not all one-sided though !!

Because T's got a secret (Another day, I'm back at school. I thin about him, he's so cool !!)

He absolutely has every single piece of stationary he's ever asked you for in his bag

I don't mean he's stolen your stuff

I mean T already has all the stationary he needs in his bag he just chooses not to get it out so that he has a reason to talk to you

Yeah this is that trope - buckle in

Mama T has made sure her baby has everything he ever will ever need and makes him pack his bag every night before school

So I bet you're wondering how you found out about this

If you weren't wondering before you better start now

Well, friend, it was the unzipped backpack trap

Y'know when you're walking and your bag is completely open

Oh yeah

You know exactly where I'm going with this

It was the end of class (and the day) and everyone was packing up or already gone - you got back the fineliner T had borrowed and you were ready to go home

And then the loudest unzipping sound came from your right

You turned just in time to see a waterfall of multi-coloured stationary fall out of an unzipped pencil case that was falling out of an unzipped bag

And a frozen T, watching as all his stuff went crashing into the floor, stood with his bag swung in front of him as he prepared to leave

Mans is giving all fish a run for their money with his impression rn

Poor boy is just opening and closing his mouth trying to think of something to say

And you have so many things to say you can't choose which one to say first !!

T glances at you...and then tries his best to avoid your attempts at eye contact

"Who put all of that in there...haha...wow..."

The loudest snort escapes you as you cover your mouth trying to muffle your laughter

T can't help but smile - at least you were laughing, despite his embarrassment at least you didn't hate him

Bit dramatic but then again this would be boring if it wasn't

"You're such an idiot, oh my god" in between wheezes, snorts and loud hyena laughter

As T joins you in laughter he finds himself glad that this happened, even if it is a blow to his ego, otherwise he would never know this side of you

From this day on, T pledges to be the reason you smile brighter and laugh louder every day

Jesse - The One Who's Never Paying Attention

Jesse's the kinda bitch who gets the highest grades every time - he's top of the class in most things - yet he never pays attention

And its beginning to get to you

Big time

And you're way too sleep deprived to be dealing with this mental stress rn

Sitting next to this boy is torture because as you put all of your effort into focusing and still struggle to keep up with the lesson while Jesse has no problems

So confident in his abilities that he doesn't even try

Which definitely isn't the case

I think Jesse is someone who cares deeply about doing well in school, though he'd never admit it (he definitely instilled this mindset into his kids too)

He studies every night at home and reads ahead on the material so he knows it in preparation for class

Because the teachers don't teach in a way he understands, it just doesn't click for him

So he takes his education into his own hands

King behaviour tbh

So during class time ?? He's completely up in the clouds

Jesse loves to sketch in class

He'd prefer pottery but y'know...not exactly possible to bring out his wheel in the middle of a maths lesson

Oh yeah, this is a maths class

So he sketches pottery designs and whatever catches his attention really

As Jesse sketches, you are contemplating putting yourself into a coma (death's straight up commitment dude and you're too indecisive for that-)

But for now slamming your head into your desk repeatedly will have to do :)

How the hell is any of what this teacher is babbling on about meant to make sense in any way, shape or form ??

Literally name a part of their "explanation" because you call bs !!

You keep quiet because imagine having the teacher call you out as you have a breakdown ?? literally bye

However, being your seatmate, Jesse has no choice but to pay attention

Literally, you're causing his lines to shake-

But also because you've caught Jesse's attention and your...movements are making you hard to draw

How can he draw that sparkle in your eyes if you're face down on your desk ??

A light tap on your shoulder brings you out of your wallowing

Fuck, the teacher's caught you now

They're gonna hate you for forever now and you're gonna fail because they'll make sure to never explain anything in a way you understand and fuck shit damn it you need to pass this class

You look up - ready to really put on a show of tears and pretend your friend's grandma's pet's uncle Gustopher died last night-

Oh...

...that's not a teacher

Arguably worse it's Mr. Know-It-All

And fuck if he doesn't look like god's gift to the world in this stupid lighting from this stupid angle which no one should look attractive from

It's official: you hate Jesse Whats-His-Last-Name

"You alright, love?"

(Because of course Jesse is just as free about pet names as he is when he's grown up - probably even more so)

GOD DAMMIT AISAKJBSLABDBC

How dare he use that on you ??

Especially looking like that

"...no."

WELL AREN'T YOU ARTICULATE ??

"Okay, how about you rest for a bit, I'll take some notes for you, alright?"

ADBSJJSKKAJCKDHGEJDNC

WHAT-

for you ?????

SKDFNKJHSDLVKNBJCB

You manage a nod and a watery smile

And somehow you manage to pass out for the rest of the lesson

...

You wake up to the sound of chairs scraping and loud talking

On the left side of your desk is a sheet of neatly written notes with diagrams (you could cry-)

As you pick it up to put away in a safe place you notice another piece of paper underneath it - folded.

Curiosity obviously wins out so you pick it up and are met with many sketches

Flowers, clouds, lots of pretty things

But the two noticeable drawings ??

They're of you

One of you staring forwards with your pen held against you bottom lip

And the other one of you sleeping at your desk

You couldn't lie they were beautiful

You were beautiful

Is this really how you look ??

Did Jesse see you this way ??

You hope he does

Speaking of- you look around for Jesse but he's long gone - along with everyone else

Better skedaddle before the teacher attempts conversation- oh wait they're gone too

Great ??

You let yourself smile as you slip both of the pieces of paper into your bag

Maybe he isn't so bad

Aaron Z - The One Who Comes to Class Injured

Oh man, you have major concerns about Z

Every other week he's sporting some new injury

A month or so ago he was on crutches with a sprained ankle

2 weeks ago he had a black eye

Last week he nearly ripped a tendon and wasn't allowed to come in

And now he's got himself a broken arm

Fucking how ??

What the hell is Z doing to get these injuries ??

Is someone hurting him ??

Is he getting into fights ??

Is the extracurricular sports he plays religiously ??

And why does he get extra desk space-

Just give him his own desk, dammit !!

And of course Z is so quiet that he barely has any friends in his classes and none of his actual friends seem to share any with him either

Which is so strange ??

Not one person really ??

So now you'd been lumped with the poor guy to help him out whenever he has an injury since you shared most (all ??) of his classes

Z just looks so uncomfortable whenever you're alone together

You'd be offended if you didn't know his personality

Unfortunately, his general discomfort makes you feel just as awkward as he does

And it's kind of a problem

Because your teachers keep looking at you like they're expecting something

Like you'll suddenly become besties

Which is...hopeful

And naive

Not that you wouldn't love to be friends with Z

The guy seems really cool

But...y'know

This bizarre buddy system had only recently taken place so you'd only been helping him since the start of the week

And it's already this bad

Not that Z's bad !!

He's fine

Great, even

Just...quiet ??

Again, not a bad thing !!

Just had to make a friend for life in these conditions, y'know ??

Doesn't help that your almost as awkward on a good day so...

You walk side by side, carrying both your and Z's bags to your next class which, surprise surprise, you share

Stuck in the monotony of school life your mind begins to wander

As you amble along Z begins sneaking glances at you

You sat next to him

You accepted to escorting him around school like a bodyguard

or worse...a babysitter

You offered him a smile every time he sat down next to you

You even offered to carry his bag when all you had to do was walk him to the next class

Why... ??

Why're you being so nice to a...not stranger...acquaintance ??

Sucked into his own thoughts Z didn't notice the small step in front of him

The sudden drop (though pretty small) was enough to send him flying into the wall shocking you both out of your stupors

You sprinted over, checking over him like a worried mother as Z stood there stewing in his embarrassment

"Oh my god! Please tell me you didn't break the other arm!"

"...it's fine..." he replies in the quietest voice ever

"Are you sure? Do you want to go to the nurse's office anyway, just to be safe? I have plasters but I'm not sure they'll help all that much"

You break into nervous laughter before it quickly turns into real giggles and snorts (yes you will snort every time you laugh, if I have to suffer this irl you can suffer through it in headcanons !!)

Though he doesn't laugh with you Z does crack a smile which is a win in your book

"I think I'll live"

"You sure? Because your track record suggests otherwise"

You receive a playful glare for that one

"Come on, clumsy. I'll make sure you make it the rest of the way to class in one piece."

Maybe the next time you had to help out with Z's injury the silence would be so awkward

or silent at all

Robaire - Your Academic Rival

Similar to Jesse's headcanons, Robaire is one smart cookie...it infuriates you

But in a fun way

Because you can fight back

The competitiveness on you two is scary ngl

Everyone else in your class has given up trying to beat either of you

They just silently hope that whoever is highest in the most recent test doesn't gloat about it

This time it's Robaire

And you're not...happy about it, shall we say

So of course Robaire has taken it upon himself to rub it in your face as much as he can

And though you hate losing you can't deny the anticipation and excitement you feel whenever test scores are released

Because win or lose it's a lot of fun competing with Robaire

And he has fun too, don't you worry

On occasion Robaire has been known to study for a few more hours than usual leading up to a test just so he can beat you

And his friends find it hilarious

Because on you could get under the cool, calm and collected Robaire's skin like this

So they simply watch in amusement as he turns to you, a victorious smirk on his face

"Look like your crown is slipping, your highness. And with that, I think your throne is mine."

"Just you wait, Robaire, I will crush you in the next test. Prepare to taste my dust."

You shared grins

"I don't think I will. If you can't even keep up a streak of more than one victory compared to my four in a row, how could you hope to seize the next one?"

"Pure determination, loser. Watch me."

You grab your bag and stand up

"Here, I'll even give you some dust-eating practice. See ya next class."

You wave and move on out of there

But not before you hear a hushed whisper from nearby

"They're such a try hard it's not even funny..."

"Pick-me behaviour-"

You're no stranger to mean comments and prefer to let them roll off of you like water off of a duck's back but these particular voices with comments like these had started to follow you everywhere

What really got to you, though, was the fact you never saw who was saying them

You could only hear them

There's no way to turn them off

And you hate that you're letting them start to affect you but you just can't help it.

They're everywhere

Your only haven is your home and even there the comments had started to pick up, your mind echoing them back to you whenever you had a single moment alone

It's starting to make studying even harder than it already is

Which is why you completely bombed the next test

You failed badly

You can only hope you don't start to cry as you flip through pages upon pages of red crosses next to your hastily scribbled answers

You hadn't gotten a bad score on a test in so long

You'd made sure of it

What would everyone think if they found out-

The pick-me doesn't even have a leg to stand on

Look who's all bark and no bite

This is Robaire's rival ?? yikes...

Fuck...what will Robaire say ??

And after you'd gone and blabbered your mouth at him too

God...

So when Robaire turns to you, holding his paper close to his chest and grinning as if he knew he'd won, you lost it

You sprinted out of the room and to the toilets as fast as you legs could carry you

A sight that left Robaire more than a little speechless

One of his friend laughed, "Is that their way of telling you that you've eaten their dust or?"

But Robaire had seen your face and it hadn't been mischievous or even slightly smiling

You looked distraught

Robaire walked up to your desk and flipped your paper over, eyes widening when he saw your score

Well, now he knows why you ran...

Dropping his paper on top of yours to hide the score, Robaire runs out of class too

Meanwhile you're staring at yourself in the mirror willing the redness in your eyes to disappear

Fuck it...whatever

You left your paper there anyway, there's no way that the whole class doesn't know about it by now

You give your swollen eyes one last look before leaving the toilets

And fucking great, Robaire himself is right there as you leave

"You okay?"

You stare at him for a second and then nod

You'll get over it

Eventually

Jury's out on everyone else though

"I'm gonna need you to convince me, chéri. Because seem as okay as you want me to believe."

"It's whatever, man, forget it."

"It's fine if you don't want to talk about it right now. How about a hug? Feel free to say no." Robaire smiled gently at you and you felt your heart squeeze in your chest

You hesitate before nodding and stepping forward into his waiting arms

You breathe in and smell what can only be described as Robaire

You have no idea what to place the scent as, it's just warm and it's him

Maybe you'll tell him in a minute, or an hour, or a day or maybe a week but here, in his arms, you feel safe and better already

Tae Young - The One That You Tutor

Given the fact the Tae Young's moved around a lot, he's also the new kid a lot

And that always affects his classwork

Different curriculums, different teaching styles, even different languages and he's expected to roll with it and keep up

Tae's expected to ride the wave of change but he keeps getting sucked under, flailing around as he tries desperately to stay afloat

Even his best classes are ones he's somehow behind in and it's pretty upsetting

Tae Young is smart but all of this confusion and catching up to topics he hasn't even heard of yet is lowering every semblance of his confidence and self-esteem

Which is where you come in

Being a part of the tutoring program it's literally your job to make sure the students under your care are getting the grades they deserve and are understanding the topics they're learning

You share their losses, their wins, everything - you watch the people you're assigned to grow and learn and nothing makes you happier

And you like to think they enjoy being tutored by you just as much

So when you're told you've been given a new tutee you're happy to help out

It's what you do after all

So you make your way to the library, note books in hand

You'd done enough tutoring by now that you had a set plan of how to go about things

In this first session not much tutoring would be done, honestly, but in order for your tutee's to learn anything you'd need to figure out how they learn, what they need to learn and what's causing them to struggle

When Tae Young was told he'd been given a tutor he felt ashamed

If he'd just been able to keep up with the work then he wouldn't be in this situation

Tae's barely been in this school a month and he's already enough of a failure that he needs another student to tutor him.

He felt like all eyes were on him as he shuffled to the library, nervously picking at the skin around his nails

Even the wall had eyes to judge Tae with

You made sure to get to the library before your new tutee (such a weird word lol-)

You set up at your normal table and waited, wondering who they might be

Tae Young stands outside of the library, fingers tapping out random pattern on his thigh as he hypes himself up

Now or never

He takes a shaky step inside and looks around, hoping to find his tutor

You watch Tae Young vibrate on the spot as he frantically looks in all directions

Well, your new tutee hadn't come yet so you could probably help him out

"Tae? You okay?"

Turning to the side, Tae Young catches your eye and almost deflates in relief

Someone he knows !!

"Mmm, yeah. Sorry!"

You give him what you hope is a reassuring smile

"Not to worry. But, uh, I don't normally see you in here, what's the occasion?"

Tae Young chews on his lip for a moment before looking up at your through his lashes

His voice drops down to a hushed whisper

"I'm supposed to be getting a tutor but I don't know where they are..."

Your smile widens into a grin

"Well, I think I've hit the jackpot then because I'm waiting for my new tutee. Bets on who that might be?"

Tae's eyes widen comically as he lets a smile take root on his face and you stifle an aw

"Really? Thank goodness, I was super worried that they'd be mean but I guess I don't have to worry about that anymore!"

You laugh and guide him to your table

"I'd hope not. Well, since I already know you we can skip introductions. I have a rough idea of what you might need help with but it's much easier for the both of us if we hash it out together; does that sound good?"

Tae Young nods and flops into a chair, his earlier nerves dissolving as he listens to you talk

With a tutor like you he won't have to worry so much anymore

And if he slips you a thank you note and a daisy the next time he sits next to you in class that'll be our little secret ;)

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

I always end up writing too much for Jesse's sections T^T stupid character limit !!

I hope you enjoyed !! <3

[shemarmooresfedora]

Home

Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: mentions of Diana’s Alzheimer’s and Schizophrenia, prison, separation of father and daughter, swearing

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy my new fic! this may be about 8 chapters or so! i’m not sure yet, going to see how interested people are in the plot :) (also quick disclaimer: i have never been in the foster care system so please excuse any inaccuracies)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Spencer never wanted his daughter to see him like this, being brought into the BAU bullpen in handcuffs. He was supposed to be the good guy.

Right now, he couldn’t tell if he still was. He had good intentions going down to Mexico to get non-FDA approved medicine for his mom but he may have killed someone in the process. If only he could just remember.

Camellia ran into his arms to hug him, a hug he so desperately wanted to return if it wasn’t for these stupid cuffs around his wrists.

“They can’t just take you away, Dad,” she cried.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m going to get back to you as soon as possible,” he promised, kissing the top of her head.

Spencer felt absolutely crushed as the guards had to drag his crying 11-year-old off of him so he could be taken to his holding cell.

-

You had just gotten off of work when your phone rang. Eileen, the head foster care coordinator, was calling.

“Hello,” you answered.

“Hey Y/N,” she greeted you, “I know you haven’t had a foster kid in a few months but I kind of have an urgent case. 11-year-old sixth grade girl. Mom has been out of the picture for a while, Dad recently imprisoned and on trial for murder. There are a bunch of family friends willing to take her but no direct family,” she explained.

“I can take her for as long as she needs,” you told Eileen.

“Great! I’ll text you the address, it’s the FBI headquarters.”

-

When you walked into the BAU, still in your dino scrubs and white lab coat, Eileen was surrounded by a frantic group of people.

“As I said before, I don’t doubt any of your credentials but this is the law. We can only give away a child to direct family at this point in time. If you are not direct family, you will need a lawyer to fight for custody as well as permission from her father but that process could take months,” Eileen stated.

“Spencer hasn’t spoken to his father in years and his mother is in a facility for her schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s,” a dark-haired woman spoke.

“Exactly so she must be turned over to the foster care system. I apologize to you all but this is how it works. We can’t bend the rules,” Eileen said.

“I don’t want Callie fending for herself in a house with 20 other kids,” a blonde-haired woman argued, “I’m her godmother. She stays with me all the time. She was staying with me while Spencer was in Mexico.”

“Sorry, my answer is still no. But, hopefully this will squash your concerns, Y/N!” she called you over, “This is Y/N. Jo will be placed with her. She is a pediatric doctor and currently has no other foster kids at the moment but all of her past kids have absolutely adored her. She always passes her surprise safety and wellness checks with flying colors.

“Hi,” you waved, intimidated by this huge group of frustrated people with guns on their hips.

“A doctor? So she isn’t even going to be home most of the time,” a curly-haired man scoffed.

“Actually, I own my own practice. I don’t work at a hospital so I usually have a regular 8-4 shift unless one of my patients needs urgent attention,” you clarified.

“JJ, don’t make me go,” a girl, who you could only assume was Callie, sobbed.

They were all staring at you like you were the worst person on Earth. You wanted to shrivel up and die. When you went through the process of becoming a foster parent, you thought this was a very admirable thing to do. You just wanted to provide a good home to kids in need.

“Do any of you have a key to Dr. Reid’s residence so Camellia can pack a bag?” you asked politely.

The woman closest to Callie that must be JJ pulled a key off of her chain and handed it to you.

“I’ll-um-leave my phone number and address here so you guys can contact me at any time or stop by. I understand your concerns but please know I try my absolute hardest to make sure all kids feel welcome and safe in my house,” you scribbled your information down on a scrap piece of paper.

“Are you ready to go, Camellia?” you asked softly.

She went around hugging everyone in the circle before solemnly nodding to you.

God, you felt like such an asshole.

-

After Callie finished packing her things from her bedroom in relative silence, you returned to the car.

“I don’t know what you like to eat but we can stop at the grocery store so we can get stuff you like and any other things you need,” you said.

You were met with silence from the backseat. You offered for her to sit in the passenger seat but she declined.

“Listen, I’m really not trying to be the bad guy here. Please don’t make me out to be one. I know you are having a tough time with your Dad’s situation right now but shutting everyone else out won’t help,” you spoke softly, “Trust me, I know.”

You sighed when the silence continued. You pulled out of the Reid’s driveway and headed to the grocery store.

-

You let Callie lead when you entered the grocery store, opting to follow behind her with the cart. She went immediately to the frozen meal section and started throwing them in.

“Camellia, that’s fine if those are what you want but just so you know, I love to cook so I can make you anything you want,” you offered.

“This is what I’m used to,” she spoke sharply, “My dad is not a bad dad, he just usually doesn’t have much time.”

“I never claimed he was,” you defended yourself.

After that, you kept your mouth shut. Clearly, she was a very independent girl and she had her own routine she liked to stick to.

-

You hauled all the grocery bags inside the house and unloaded them as Callie brought in her suitcases.

“So Camellia, I put all the food you picked out in these two cabinets. I mean obviously, you are welcome to anything in the kitchen but I just wanted you to know where the things you picked out were. I always have a grocery list on the fridge that you can add to,” you began to give her a tour of the house, “Bathroom is in there. There’s another upstairs. Here’s the living room with a TV,” you headed up the stairs, “Here’s my room.”

On your bed was an adorable toyger kitten cuddled up on your pillow.

“Oh! This is Winnie like Winnie the Pooh. I just got her a few weeks ago from a shelter. She is super friendly and loves snuggles so she will probably try to sneak into your bed unless you keep your door closed.”

“I don’t mind,” Callie spoke softly as she petted Winnie.

You smiled softly. These were the first words you got out of her that weren’t a rejection.

You continued the tour, “There’s a bathroom between our rooms but I tend to use the downstairs one so feel free to make it your own. And here’s your room,” you opened the door to a white room with a queen bed in the center, a small bookshelf, a few plants, and paintings.

“I hope this is good enough for now. We can go out this weekend to a home goods store if you want to redecorate. I’d even be open to repainting it if you want,” you offered.

Callie just set her bags down and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be. I’ll probably be downstairs for a while watching TV if you want to join. Let me know if you want me to make you anything,” you began to shut the door but Winnie slipped in first.

“Good night, you guys,” you smiled softly.

-

“Do you want me to wait out here or come in with you?” you asked softly.

Spencer had been denied bail, meaning he was transferred to a federal prison and Callie was going to be staying with you for a while. She had taken the news rather hard as expected when the team came over to your house to tell her. You still weren’t really accepted by the group so you mostly stood in the corner of the kitchen while they were all in your living room.

You had spoken to Eileen several times about Callie’s current situation. She gave you permission to do whatever you saw fit. This means you could opt her out of school one or two days a week if she wasn’t feeling up to it as long as she emailed her teachers and got her missed work in on time. You were researching different therapists for her to talk to because she didn’t seem to want to open up to you. You were also given a schedule of visiting times for her to visit her dad in prison.

“I’ll just go in alone,” she walked in the door to the visiting room, leaving you in the waiting room.

-

“Dad,” Callie tried to hug Spencer but the guard pointed to the ‘No Touching’ sign posted on the wall.

They both sat down defeatedly at opposite ends of the table.

“How are you?” Callie inquired, wiping her tears away from seeing her father locked up.

“I don’t want to talk about me, sweetheart. How are you? Emily and my lawyer visited yesterday and told me you had to be placed into foster care,” Spencer asked, concerned.

“It’s okay. Not the best,” she sighed.

“What’s happening? Are they hurting you? Are they not giving you enough to eat? Callie, I’ll have my lawyer on the phone and you out of there so quick,” Spencer frantically stated.

“No, Dad. Y/N is fine…nice, even. But she’s not you,” Callie cried.

Spencer’s face softened, “I’m so sorry, Callie. You don’t deserve to be dealing with any of this.”

“Just please come home,” she sniffled.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, I’m really trying,” he replied earnestly with tears in his eyes.

A/N: i will also be starting a series taglist if you don’t want to be added to my main taglist so just clarify which one you want to join! also i recommend listening to the song Home by Phillip Phillips because it is kind of like the theme song for this story

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego

series taglist: @ilovespencerreidmarryme

[nikikyuuun]

Hello! May I request headcanons of Tsukasa and Kohaku with a crush (How they realize it and how they deal with it)? Thank you and please take care of yourself!

helloo!! i love the cousins a Whole Lot they're so cute so ofc you may!! i haven't written for tsukasa that much though, so i'm sorry in advance if he's a little ooc!

also. heehee. first post of 2022! i hope you all had a v lovely holiday season and have a lovely new year as well ♡ i hope you enjoy!

❧ kohaku and tsukasa with a crush

content warnings: none

❧ kohaku tends to say it plainly and clearly, almost like some sort of disclaimer—he ain't too knowledgeable about these kinds of things, y'know... a lot of what he knows just comes from the net. he's definitely laughed at cheesy romcoms or cliche shoujo manga with aira before, but the actual feeling of having a crush? it's just as new to him as just about everything else.

❧ when his feelings for you start to change, he chalks it up to just circumstance. he's been feeling a little under the weather lately, so that's why his stomach feels all weird, right? and it's been getting real cold lately, so that's why his face has been red—and don't go gettin' sick, ya hear? this excuse only works for so long, though. there comes a point where kohaku can barely even explain his own reactions to himself, like why he feels so much more himself when he's with you, or why he's almost disappointed to hear you call him a friend...

❧ it frustrates him a little, being at the mercy of his own emotions like this—especially since he can't even pinpoint what they are! it dawns on him eventually, after bidding you goodbye after hanging out, or getting a goodnight text from you later that evening, a growing realisation that, ah, maybe the way he thinks about you isn't quite the same anymore, and what if you think the same way about him, too? he'll put on a thick face, but the thought of it makes his chest warm.

❧ kohaku knows he'll confess to you when he's ready, but with how much happier he seems to be around you, he isn't quite the most subtle about it—offering to treat you whenever you go out together, or sharing his food with you, or even just the tone of voice he takes with you, softer and kinder and gentler. he'll see you tomorrow, yeah? d'you need him to walk you to the station? 's no issue at all, as long as you get home safe.

❧ crushes... aren't really something tsukasa's dealt with much before, honestly, if at all. he's more than familiar with admiration, as well as the type of old-fashioned, chivalric romance in knights' songs, but it's not something he's ever imagined himself experiencing. especially with how much he has on his plate at home, and at school, and at ensemble square, and...

❧ well, that was the case until you—tsukasa is almost acutely aware of how differently he feels around you, the quickness of his pulse and the clamminess of his hands, the awkward fumble in his voice and the uncharacteristic stumble in his step. you were friends, weren't you? so why was he so nervous? he's really sorry, he's not usually like this, he says—but when you smile and laugh it off, it doesn't quite help his case. he does try to act normal in front of you, though! as normal as he can get, when everything from the back of your hand brushing his, to walking too close to you makes his breath hitch a little.

❧ tsukasa definitely seems like the type to want his crush to think of him as dependable, too! do you need help with something? just want some company? as a knight, it's his sworn duty to help those in need, you know~ he gets to spend time with you, too, so that's definitely a bonus! he doesn't trust himself not to stumble over his words, so hopefully his actions will suffice, instead.

❧ just like his cousin, he doesn't want to rush into things with you—not because he isn't sure of his feelings, but because he wants to do things right, if not by his own standards then by yours, no matter what thet may be. as inexperienced as he is with, well, matters of the heart, tsukasa hopes very dearly that you'll take him as he is.

[tamayosclinic]

Hello I wanna request for your event please! (again hehe). Please may I have Mitsuri x female reader with the prompt: “Why are you creeping outside my bedroom window?!” “I thought it would be romantic if I climbed up here.” “You gave me a heart-attack!” (Mitsuri's the one creeping outside the bedroom window). I just thought this would be funny. Thank you for your time.

"Why are you creeping outside my bedroom window?!" "I thought it would be romantic if I climbed up here." "You gave me a heart-attack!" | Mitsuri x F!Reader

College AU

Warning(s): None

Author's Note(s): This should go without saying but here's a disclaimer. Don't stare at people through their window. It's creepy, most likely a sexual offense where you live, and is above all indecent behavior. Got that? Good. Now you can go and enjoy this fic.

Word Count: 757

100+ Follower Event [Closed]

The movies about college lied. They hid the ugly truth of dorm rooms that look like remodeled prison cells, long nights doing homework, potentially awful professors, and finals. There were parties, but those were once in a blue moon. Or at least that is what one gets when attending a prestigious university.

If anything, college brings out the importance of having close friends. Or, in (Y/n)’s case, having a girlfriend who attends the same university. They could stress about classes throughout the week, but they were guaranteed to meet up and melt their stresses together once the weekend rolled around. It was the perfect setup.

Neither of the women anticipated finals to crush them at different levels. Mitsuri was a culinary arts major, so her classes were less vigorous than (Y/n), which meant relatively easy finals. (Y/n) on the other hand has a more vigorous major, which means tremendous stress.

Come to the end of her finals, (Y/n)’s brain is fried and short-circuiting. At the beginning of the week, she and Mitsuri made plans to have dinner and clean out their dorm rooms for summer break. Now, (Y/n) was not feeling up to doing all of that. Sleep was calling her name.

(Y/n) groaned at the thought of calling Mitsuri to cancel plans. Settling down on her bed, she shut her eyes for a quick nap, hoping that would help her brain recover. She woke up to the sudden buzz of her phone and jolted wide awake when she saw it was Mitsuri calling.

(Y/n) took a glance at the time. Shit, she was an hour late to dinner. She answered the phone and greeted with hesitation, “Hello, Mitsu.”

“Where are you, (Y/n)? Did you forget our plans for today?”

“No,” (Y/n) yawned out, “Sorry, Mitsu, finals burnt me out today. I thought I’d take a quick nap, but I guess I slept the afternoon away. I’ll get ready and-”

“No! Stay there! I’ll come to your dorm instead. I’m ready anyway, and the dinner I mentioned was going to be the food I cooked for my culinary class final. I’ll be there like whoosh!” (Y/n) could hear the chaotic clings and clangs of Mitsuri gathering the food and her keys. “I’ll see you soon, love!”

And just like that, Mitsuri hung up.

I might as well roll with it, (Y/n) washed up and dressed in something more fitting for a date—even if it was an in-home date. She finished freshening up when the pronounce knocking on glass came from her window. She could see the silhouette of a figure standing out on the balcony, but the curtains obscured their identity—and hopefully obscured their view of her. Her hope shattered when the figure waved until it started bouncing up and down, much like someone (Y/n) knew.

“Hi (Y/n)!”

(Y/n) let out the breath she did not know she was holding and placed a hand over her chest to calm the heart she didn’t realize was racing. Spreading open the curtain to reveal Mitsuri smiling adorably at her, (Y/n) ushered her in. “Why are you creeping outside my window?!”

“I thought it would be romantic if I climbed up here.”

“How did you get up here? I’m on the second floor, and you’re carrying three bags of food. Wouldn’t it have been easier to come in from front?”

“Well, I saw the maintenance crew left behind a latter from earlier and thought it would be romantic like in that one movie. You said you thought it was romantic,” Mitsuri explained in her usual giddiness.

I’m pretty sure I said it was creepy. “You gave me a heart attack,” (Y/n) chortled but looped her arm around Mitsuri’s hand and intertwined their fingers. She pressed a kiss to Mitsuri’s forehead, which had the rosette blushing lightly and reciprocating with a flurry of kisses.

“I missed you, my love, even though it's long been a week! Also, how are you feeling now?”

(Y/n) chuckled, “I missed you too, sweetheart. I’m feeling much better now that we have a whole summer ahead, and I will get to spend all of it with you.”

The rest of the night, the couple remained in (Y/n)’s dorm room, eating and talking about their first year of college while cuddled up on the bed. As mentioned before, the small favors count the most in college. Tonight, (Y/n) was served one in her dormmate’s absence. Everything else they had planned can wait for tomorrow. For now, it was just the two of them together as (Y/n) wanted.