#also anon i did see your other ask and i promise i'm working on it <3

[shootingstarpilot]

2, 5, 20 for the ask game🥰🥰🥰

Eyyyy thank you anon!!

2. What character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

Honestly? Jango Fett, and the Mandalorians as a whole.

I didn't have much of an opinion of Jango when I started, except admiring how neatly Mace decapitated him. I don't have much exposure to Legends, either, so I was relying almost entirely on Lucas's canon. Now, though- with Jango Fett being portrayed as a wonderful father and this warring culture being held up as the one that takes in all the poor :( orphaned :( children (hey who made those orphans I wonder), this one that puts such a good and pure emphasis on family- and always being held up as superior to the Jedi- I simply cannot stand them.

I tend to steer clear of fics that have Jango and/or put a lot of emphasis on how amazing Mandalorian culture is. No thank you. I'm a cripple. I have no patience for fetishizing a culture where your worth is entirely determined by how well you can fight.

5. Worst blorboficiation?

Anakin fucking Skywalker.

He's a fascinating character! Absolutely he is! But, notably, he also slaughtered thousands of innocent sentients, was entirely responsible for one massacre and played a key role in another genocide- (I think Palps would've unleashed Order 66 with or without Anakin by his side, but that doesn't change the fact that Anakin willingly helped him.) Reducing him to a wee babe who was stripped of all agency and was merely buffeted by the winds of fate - simply tripping into committing genocide - makes him so much less interesting. Let him have agency! Let him be a horrible murderous bastard! That makes the bits where he's not hit all the harder!

20. Could anyone have fixed Anakin?

No.

Other people have put it much better than I have- @gffa, @antianakin, and @david-talks-sw all come to mind- but... yeah. Not even Ahsoka, regardless of how much Certain People might like to think she could have. But only Anakin could've fixed Anakin- other people could've helped along the way, but he would have needed to choose that path for himself, and he... didn't.

It was there for him. But he chose not to. And that makes his story all the more tragic- that he had every opportunity to choose differently, and instead fucked himself over, again and again and again.

The Choose Violence ask game

[luveline]

Same hotch sister reader anon here Jade!

I think I have sent this one before like recently only, idk whether you have seen it or not so I will request again

The reader gets injured (I'm a sucker for injury troop) and Aaron and Spencer worry and Spencer also has to lift the reader. Please write if it's not too much 🥺

Aaron tells you two or three times not to do it. “Just wait,” he says, standing behind you with his hands hovering over your back. “Seriously, I’ll ask Morgan.” 

“How can you host the party without glasses?” 

“I can assure you my guests aren’t going to miss a glass of wine for the first ten minutes. Don’t make me grab you.” 

“I can reach!” 

“I can reach, too, it’s not about height, it’s about–” He gasp loudly as your stool wobbles. “Sweetheart, get down. I’m not kidding.” 

You grab the stem of the last glass and pass it down to him. “Stop worrying! I told you I could do it and I did.” 

And you’re right, you passed him each of his glasses without smashing any, as promised. You are not expecting the top of the stool to feel so slippery as you try to get down, nor are you expecting to lean forward and pop your face on the cabinet glass. You whack your chin, lose your footing, and slam down on knee before Aaron can catch you. 

There’s a silence. Two hands on your shoulders. “Honey…” 

“Just say it,” you groan.

“Well, I told you so.” 

The doorbell rings. “Ah, fuck,” you say, curling into yourself as everything throbs. 

“It’s okay, come here.”

“Go get the door.” 

“No, they can wait, just let me help you up.” 

“If you love me, you’ll leave me to die here.” 

The doorbell rings again. “Aaron!” Dave calls from the other side. “Shall we let ourselves in?” 

“It’s locked,” Aaron says to you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You wave him away. Honestly, you’re not okay, having fallen hard enough to knock the wind from yourself and hurt your knees and chin. But you’re happier to recover by yourself before his friends get here and spot you all crumpled. 

The problem arises when you can’t get your knee to listen to you. It tingles painfully. It did take all your weight as you fell, which likely stopped you from breaking your arms, but wasn’t kind to your joint, it seems. You push yourself onto your butt and sit there, unsatisfied, and, embarrassingly, waiting to be rescued. 

Aaron’s kind, thankfully. He takes Dave to the living room, and sends the second arrival your way. 

“You okay?” Spencer asks, frowning at your strange position on the floor. 

You pout at him. “Spencer, I’ve fallen and my knee won’t work.” 

“You fell?” 

Any nonchalance falls away. Spencer scrambles onto his knees beside you to look you over, curls falling from behind his ear into his eyes as he encourages you back. “You fell?” he asks again, confused. 

“Off the stool.” 

“Off the– What were you doing?” 

“Just grabbing the glasses for tonight!”

“Morgan could’ve done that.” 

“Can you please help me up?” you ask, very much wanting to move on. 

Spencer is a slight man. Not without muscle, but also no weightlifter. To his credit, he doesn’t make helping you seem above his abilities as he wraps an arm behind you and tucks the other under your legs. He lifts you enough to get his hand at the small of your back, and you use your now one good leg to stand. 

Spencer manhandles you a little, which is new. Hosts you to the couch, and lets you down gently. He does need a big breath when he’s done, but besides that, he’s like a Prince Charming having rescued you from your own demise. “Okay?” he asks, both hands at your waist. 

“It hurt bad.” 

“Can I see it?” 

By picking you up, he has earned the right to get you undressed, and you tell him so, his cheeks turning pinky-red as he rolls up your jeans. 

“Swollen,” he says. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You grimace. “I’m so embarrassed I don’t really know what to say. Do you think we can postpone the party?”

Spencer smiles at you, the sort of smile you can only give somebody when you’ve seen almost every part of them, and found yourself still in love by the end of it. He smiles at you like you’re made of pure gold. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m gonna nurse you back to health.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course I am. I’m gonna fix it, but first I was thinking I could kiss your chin better? You have a dark spot coming.” 

You touch it, tender, surprised, “I do?” 

Spencer leans up to peck your chin, just shy of the coming bruise. “You do. I’ll get you some ice.” 

[mrsshabana]

Modern/after all odds Gyutaro definitely did it on the motorcycle despite the risk in being a secluded alleyway or smth since someone was needy and impatient. Gyutaro would have it on or even rev it up sitting backwards while having y/n ride him. The hypersexual thoughts have lead me to a wild imagination once again 😞 Also can I be the 🍰 anon if its not already claimed? ^^

𝐀𝐀𝐎 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⋆ 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐲𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, Against All Odds au, public sex, vaginal sex, creampie (if you aren't familiar with my Against All Odds fic, it's an au where demons live amongst humans in a modern au. And all of the kny demons go to university with reader.) ꒦꒷‧₊ Note I decided to write about AAO Gyutaro since I really miss writing that au! And of course, you can be the 🍰 anon if you'd like. Sorry for answering this so late btw. I've been working on other things lately but I was in the mood to write something quick today so I hope you all enjoy it. ♡

"That fucking student council meeting took so long, what the hell were you guys talking about anyways?" Gyutaro growls as he parks his bike behind the science building.

"Douma couldn't decide what color banners we needed for the festival this weekend," you giggle, watching your boyfriend's face contort in annoyance.

"Idiot," he rolls his eyes and turns off his bike, "Making me wait so damn long..."

You look around, confused as to why he is stopping behind the science building on campus. "Um Gyu, why are you stopping here?"

He flips around so he can face you and begins to unbutton his pants, "Cuz I'm gonna fuck you."

'WHAT!?" You yelp, and Gyutaro immediately covers your mouth with his hand.

"Shut it!" he snarls, "I've been so horny all goddamn day ever since you put on that stupid skirt this morning. And now since you made me wait so long, I don't have any other choice but to fuck you right here."

He smirks and pulls his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free, already incredibly hard. The large vein that runs down the side of it already popping out, that's how you know he's been hard for quite a while.

"B-Babe I-," you start but he cuts you off.

"Shh, it's ok. The sun's already gone down so no one will see us. I promise..."

He bites his lip and pulls you in for a kiss. His other hand goes under your skirt, slipping into your panties to feel you've already started to get wet. But how can you not when seeing him so hot and bothered for you?

Pleased by this, he groans and pulls you into his lap. Slowly bucking his hips, gliding his cock along your slick panties.

"Gyu..." you whimper, "maybe we should move off the bike. I wouldn't want it to fall over..."

"Typical human, always worrying," he smiles, showing off his sharp teeth, "It won't fall over, I promise. My feet are on the ground so I can balance it while you ride me."

"R-ride you?" your entire face goes red. Usually, your boyfriend is on top, taking control and plunging into you aggressively is his favorite way to have sex. So it isn't often that he asks you to be on top, but you can't deny that you enjoy doing it. And he does too, it's just that most days he can't stop himself from fucking you silly. But today he doesn't have much choice.

"C'mon baby, you can handle it right?" He smirks mischievously as if challenging you.

"Of course I can!"

"I dunno... maybe you're too weak to take it. I mean you are just a pathetic human after all," he teases.

You furrow your brows, determined to prove him wrong. So you lift your hips, move your panties to the side, and gently lower yourself onto him.

"F-fuck," a breathy moan leaves his lips as he sinks into you and bottoms out.

"That shut you up, huh?" you tease back as you begin riding him.

He can't deny that you took his breath away, he didn't expect you to take control like you did. His nails dig into your thighs as you pick up the pace. Moaning loudly as you bounce on his lap, squelching sounds filling the air as his thick shaft splits you apart.

"C-C'mon babe ah, if you k-keep movin' like that I'm gonna cum too soon," he clenches his teeth and tries to hold back his moans.

"I don't want us to get caught," you gasp, "Ngh- you do want to cum in me don't you?"

"C-course I do," a needy moan escapes him. He moves his hands to your hips and begins to move you up and down, assisting you in your motion.

You lean forward until his cockhead slams into your sweet spot, "Ah- right there!" Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the mess between your legs spreads all over your thighs.

Your legs are beginning to feel sore but you're too determined to chase your high to even care. Moving faster and faster despite the pain and your thighs trembling.

Usually, your boyfriend would take over at this point but he's too high on cloud nine to pay attention to anything but the way your slick walls wrap around him and squeeze him so tightly. Making it impossible for him to hold back any longer.

And with a strained groan, his nails dig into your skin, his cock twitches inside of you, and he leans back - accidentally revving his bike. But he's too busy filling you with his seed to even care.

Wanting to make sure he got his cum as deep as possible he tightly grabs your hips and thrusts up into you. Creating an absolute mess. A combination of his cum and your slick splattering all over your skirt and the seat of his bike.

You were already getting so close, but now the breeding instinct of your demon boyfriend brings you over the edge. Your walls tightening around him as your desperate moans fill the air.

Gyutaro smirks, pleased with himself as you slump over onto him. Feeling your body shake uncontrollably, he feels satisfied.

"That's it baby," he whispers as he gently kisses the side of your face, "You did so good for me."

"We should do this again sometime..." you whimper and nuzzle against him.

He smirks, "Hell yeah, but let's get you home and cleaned up for now."

He ignores the mess on his bike and pulls his pants up. Then he turns, positions himself properly, and shifts his bike back into drive.

"You good back there?" he shouts, making sure you're holding on tightly.

"Mm hm," you nod, wrapping your arms around him and leaning your head on his back.

"Y'know, maybe we could do this every week after your student council meetings," he snickers as he revs the engine.

[s6lars]

dress.

a harmless prank leaves jamal acting unexpectedly and you're determind to find out why — even if it forces you to get dangerously close. (wc: 7.5k)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. jm42 x reader, ft. mathys tel

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. smut — mdni! with a good chunk of plot, jealous brother’s bsf jamal.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. cursing, drinking, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering + more

𝐀/𝐍. requested here, thank you for waiting patiently anon !! this is also my first time writing in months, i'm so terribly sorry that i'm rusty and it might not be my greatest work. but i hope you enjoy ! (also this is not proofread lol)

“Fuck!” you groan, examining the plastic bag in your hands.

“What? What’s wrong?” You chew on on your bottom lip, setting the bag on your thighs where you kneeled on the floor. You pick up your phone, flipping the camera so your friend could see on Facetime.

“They sent me the wrong one.”

Nothing destresses you quite as much as online shopping, and with your finals finished a few days ago, you’d gone crazy on the internet — fitting as much as your cart would allow it. The stack of boxes in your room began to pile as the orders came in one by one, and once they all did, you treated yourself to your own version of Christmas.

“Which one did you get originally?” your friend, Andrea, asks. You’ve been giving her an unboxing of everything you’d bought for yourself, opening packages on your bedroom floor with your speaker blasting Drake in the back.

“I ordered this in green, they gave it to me in black.” 

“Oh. Well, at least it’s the same dress right?” Andrea takes a bite out of the donut she’s eating. “I still think it looks nice.” “Yeah, me too. But I already have, like, 3 other black dresses,” you sigh.

“I think you should still try it on.” “You think?” “Yeah, why not? It’s just in a different color anyway.” Andrea’s right. You’re not really in the mood to go through the hassle of online returns and back-and-forth conversations with the seller. 

You leave your phone on your bedroom floor to get changed off-camera, standing in front of your mirror. The dress feels promising as you pull it out of the bag — it’s strapless, jet black in color with a few cutouts on the side joined by metal rings, exposing your sides. It feels smooth as you slide it on, the stretchy material hugging your curves and the hem stopping on your mid thighs.

“So…” You pick up your phone, showing the dress off to Andrea. “How does it look?”

Andrea gasps in awe, making you giggle at her reaction. “Oh my god, I think I’m liking this one the most so far,” she raves, and you look to the pile of the other dresses you’d bought on your floor.

You adjust the dress, smoothing it out, pulling the hem lower. The dress is gorgeous, hugging you in all the right places. You check yourself out in the mirror, feeling more confident the longer you have it on.

“This is so nice, actually. Who even cares about the color anymore, I’m obsessed,” you gush.

“Mhm. And you can wear it with that purse you bought, and with the gold jewelry as well,” Andrea suggests, and you hum in agreement. As she’s talking, you reach for your water bottle on your nightstand, disappointed when you realize it’s empty. “Hey, I’m gonna fill up my water, give me a sec,” you state, muting yourself and tossing your phone on your bed.

You waltz in the kitchen, bringing your speaker with you, taking advantage of the fact that you’re home alone. You incoherently hum along to SZA, waiting for your bottle to be filled �� and a loud noise erupts from behind where you stood.

“BOO!” 

You shriek, body jolting forward, causing some of the water to spill on your dress and your speaker to almost fall loose from your grip.

“What the fu— Oh my god, J.” You’re met with familiar brown eyes as you turned around, seeing Jamal with his hands flat on the kitchen island where he’d slammed them. He giggles at your annoyance. 

To most, Jamal is Bayern’s starboy, a young player dazzling in the world of football. To you, he’s your brother’s best friend, and someone who shows up unannounced to your house a lot. Your older brother Noah works in the industry as an agent, and the two of them met many years ago as teenagers. Now, they’re close as ever — so close, that Noah trusts him enough to give him a spare keycard to your shared apartment.

You met Jamal not long after they hit it off, and you can safely say you’ve also become friends with him now.

Just friends. That’s all you’ll ever be.

Like Noah has stressed multiple times before.

You grab a towel, dabbing the wet spot on your dress. “What do you want, J?”

“Is Noah home?” “No. He went to the gym,” you respond, groaning, making sure your dissatisfaction is heard loud and clear. Once you do, you turn off the obnoxiously loud speaker that prevented you from hearing his entrance. 

“Without me?”

“Yeah, he needed the time alone, clearly,” you snap back, circling around the kitchen island to face him. As you do, Jamal’s eyes trail down your body, your dress now revealed, his face twisting in a mix of confusion and awe. 

“Bit early for a night out, no?” He says, clearly referencing to your dress. He’d be right, it’s only the early evening.

You look down at your dress before meeting his eyes again, seeing him shift uncomfortably. “Who said this was for a night out?”

He cocks his head to the side. “It’s not?”

The devil on your shoulder is telling you to get back at him for almost ruining your dress and breaking your speaker. If he can show up unannounced, why can’t you lie and pull a few strings? “No… it’s for a date.”

You lie straight through your teeth, making up a story as you go. Jamal’s jaw falls slack, like he’s about to say something, but then it closes before he does.

“A… date?” He heard you the first time. He just wants to know if you’re being serious.

And you keep pretending that you are. “Yeah, a date. Why’s that so shocking?” You fold your arms, leaning against the kitchen island.

Jamal pauses. “With who?” While you’re biting the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from laughing, he’s having none of it. His eyebrows are furrowed, his jaw tense as he questions you.

“With this guy from uni. He’s just so sweet,” you sigh dreamily for dramatic effect, dragging the gimmick as long as you could. “We’ve been talking for a while and now he wants to get serious.” “Serious?” 

“...Yeah. I really think we could be a thing.” Your face falters at Jamal’s deadpan response. You’re only joking with him, but even if you weren’t, why is the mention of a date getting him like this?

You succesfully pulled his strings— but you don’t know if you should be happy or not. Jamal looks at you, almost in offense, and you can practically see the steam coming off of his ears. You’ve known him for a while, and yet this is the first you’ve seen of him like this.

“Tell Noah I’m not hanging out today.” Jamal storms out the kitchen, your mouth falling agape at his reaction. You trail behind him, worried that you took it too far.

“What? No, Jamal wait—” He doesn’t spare a single glance as he marches out the door, slamming it in your face, sending the hinges rattling. You’re frozen in your spot, unable to move or even process what just happened for a few moments before you’re dragging yourself back to your room, still slightly shaken.

You grab your phone and unmute yourself, still seeing Andrea on the line.

“Hey.” 

“Hey, what took you so long?” She notices the startled look in your eyes, sitting up in her bed.

“Sorry. Jamal … came over earlier. It was weird,” you say, slumping against your headboard.

“Weird? Isn’t he your friend? Or a friend of your brother?”

“Yeah, but… well, I—” you exhale, taking the time to string your words properly. “I was joking around, but then he got really upset and stormed out,” you explain.

“What the hell?” “I know. I’ve never seen him that pissed off. Not because of me at least.”

“That’s so weird. All over a joke?” “Yeah.” “What a prick,” Andrea sneers.

“No, don’t say that.” You’re not sure why, but you don’t really want to tell Andrea that the joke in question involved you lying about going on a date. “Hey, I gotta go. Bye.” 

You abruptly end the call carelessly tossing your phone aside. Now that you’re alone, you stare at the ceiling, finally having the time to process the interaction. The mood has shifted now. An inkling creeps into your thoughts as to why Jamal got so defensive, but you shrug it off, terrified of its consequences, terrified it would manifest.

“It’s probably nothing,” you mumble to yourself. But is it? You’re tossing and turning in bed because something is telling you that it’s not just nothing, and you have to find out for yourself.

You have to talk to Jamal.

“You’re up early.”

Stopping in your tracks, you turn around to see Noah splayed on the living room couch, working on his laptop.

You take a sip from your mug, setting it down on the coffee table before replying. “And you’re home for once.”

Noah gets exceptionally busy during the transfer window. You’ve been getting used to spending weeks home alone, or only catching him in the early mornings or coming in late at night, but almost never when the sun was out. Part of you thinks it’s not just work that’s been holding up, though.

“You know how busy I get in January,” Noah says. He squints as he watches you sit adjacent to him, putting on your socks and shoes. “And where are you headed?”

You pause. “Just going on a walk.”

Noah doesn’t need to know that the walk in question is en route to Jamal’s house.

Last night, you went to bed uneasy, hoping you could sleep it off. You woke up this morning and nothing had changed, and that’s when you decided you had to talk to Jamal immediately or you’d explode by midday. Noah being home wasn’t part of your plans.

He’s always been a little protective, as all older brothers are to their sisters. You vividly recall when you first met Jamal at one of his infamous house parties— alone in the kitchen, getting drinks for your friends when he strolled in, starting a conversation. It was an instant connection, with you finding yourself taking your sweet time just to keep talking to him.

Of course, Noah barged in at one point, throwing his arm around you and escorting you out of the kitchen himself, not before interrogating you on your conversation with Jamal.

Although he’s loosened up since, you know Noah would start getting skeptical if you told him you were headed to Jamal’s place first thing in the morning. But what Noah doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“Right, bye.” Just as you stand up to leave, Noah interrupts.

“Wait! Can you get some sandwiches from the café when you come back? Thanks!” 

“As long as you pay me back!” you chime, already halfway out the door.

The walk to Jamal’s place is a rare but not unfamiliar one. You live not too far away, and there have been countless times where you had to pick Noah up after a night out, so you knew the way well. You could’ve taken your car, but you decided you need the extra time for yourself, deciding on a walk.

You’re not really sure what you’re getting out of this. Your mind fluctuates between feeling like this is the right thing to do and the urge to turn back and buy those sandwiches Noah was talking about earlier.

But you never do, and now you’re standing in front of his doorway.

Unlike with your house, Jamal’s never given you a spare set of keys so you can waltz into his at any given moment. You take a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, your heart beating out of your chest as you do.

Silence. You ring the doorbell a few more times, hearing the soft pattering of footsteps behind the door. 

You fix your hair and adjust your clothes, awaiting Jamal’s arrival. 

Instead, you’re met with the sight of a woman when the door swings open.

A half-naked woman.

She looks slightly older than you, dressed in only a sports bra and sweats, her hair tussled like she just woke up. You’re both looking at each other up and down, confused. This is the first you two have seen of each other.

“Can I help you?” She’s the first to break the silence. You reluctantly meet her gaze. There’s a weird territorial atmosphere lingering between you two, like the person standing before you shouldn’t be here.

“Uh, I’m looking for Jamal,” you say, your voice coming out a lot shakier than you anticipated. A pit continues to grow in your stomach. You probably should have turned back home when you had the chance.

“Oh, he’s in the shower.”

Your heart drops. You’re not an idiot, and you’re no child— you can put two and two together. Neither is Jamal, and you know he probably hooks up with someone whenever he gets the chance. But why does that bother you so much? And why are you only feeling this way now?

You’re lost in your thoughts, and the woman waves a hand in front of your face, trying to pull you back to reality.. “Did you need anything? He’ll probably take a while.”

You shake your head, already getting ready to take off. “Just tell him I was joking yesterday.”

“Huh?” Turning around on your heels, you leave the woman hanging, walking away from the door. Whatever you were expecting to happen when you got to Jamal’s place, it surely isn’t this.

You glare straight ahead, not caring for whoever you bumped into. All you knew was just in that moment, you had to get as far away as possible from Jamal’s house. And so you did, marching as far as your legs would take you, until beads of sweat ran down your temples and your breathing turned heavy.

Maybe Noah was right in trying to put some distance between you two.

Meanwhile, Jamal dries himself off with a towel as he leaves his bathroom. He walks into the kitchen to grab some breakfast, passing by his front door, seeing the girl he picked up last night standing by.

She hears his footsteps as he comes down the stairs, turning to face him. “Morning, baby,” she coos, putting on the best lovey-dovey voice she could muster.

Jamal winces at the remark. “I’ll get you a taxi after you shower,” he replies, walking right past her and into the kitchen. The girl rolls her eyes, groaning silently. She doesn’t know why she keeps trying to get closer to him when all they’re doing this for is sex.

“Some girl came over while you were in the shower, by the way,” she brazenly states, hoping to get his attention for once. 

“Who?” “Like I know. She just came by and asked if you were here, and then told me to tell you that she was just joking yesterday?”

It works. Jamal stops dead in his tracks. “And what did she look like?” The girl starts describing how you looked from the short appearance you made earlier. The more she speaks, she sees the gears turning in Jamal’s head as he puts two and two together, ultimately realizing that you had gone all the way to his house just to talk to him.

He looks at the girl before him. She came all the way to his house, probably to apologize, just to be met with one of his random hookups who he barely even spoke to outside his bedroom.

Jamal’s eyes widen in realization at how horribly he’d fucked up, abandoning his breakfast and rushing back up the stairs.

“Where are you going? Who is she?” The girl asks, waving her hand to get his attention, though all her calls are ignored as he shoves his way into his room to go looking for his phone, unplugging it from where it was charging on his nightstand.

His fingers rapidly dart across the screen as he types out a message, a desperate attempt at reaching you before it was too late.

[07:42] jamal: did you come over earlier? [07:43] jamal: i promise it’s not what it looks like [07:43] jamal: we can talk if you want to [07:43] jamal: just the two of us

Your phone buzzes four seperate times as you stand in line at the café down the street from your apartment building. Sometime during your walk, Noah had transferred some money into your account for both breakfast and you figured you needed the distraction.

It didn’t last long as you pulled your phone from your pocket, seeing the notifications from Jamal poured in. You shut your eyes, collecting your emotions before you shoved it back in, fixing your hair in frustration.

Out of sight, out of mind. Jamal got his chance when you were at his doorstep, willing, and he you weren’t about to give him a second. The fact that he thinks you would sets something off in you.

He watches as his texts stay on delivered. Deep down, he knows you read them through your lockscreen, and now you were choosing to deliberately ignore him. He stares at the screen in defeat, before another text comes in.

[08:01] noah: you’re coming over tomorrow night yeah?

The party. Noah had invited him and some other players to hang out before the season started, a tradition that’s persisted in the friend group for years. It’s hosted at his place this time around, a golden oppportunity.

Jamal has to talk to you.

For the first time in his life, Jamal regrets going to a party.

He’s used to having a blast, used to being the man in any room he walks into, instantly greeted by faces both familiar and unfamiliar, desperate to show him around— desperate to be seen with him.

Now, he throws his head back agains the wall of Noah’s living room, drink in hand, asking himself why he even left the house today.

Jamal arrived extra early to his friend’s place, hoping to catch you in a moment alone before it got busy. To his dismay, Noah informed him that you’d been out since the morning. Then he had to help him clean. A total nightmare.

He’s not so sure if you knew he was coming today, or just so happened to not be at home. Whatever the reasoning, he’d rather not have turned up altogether had you not been here.

While he’s drinking away his sorrows, you’re pushing him out of your mind as you spent the day with your friends. Shopping, going to the spa, more shopping, bar hopping— it was a perfect day.

Your smile quickly faded when you came home and was greeted with a crowd of men in your living room.

“Hey! You’re home,” Noah greets, pulling you into a hug. He gives you a look of guilt as he sees your eyes squint in confusion, knowing he didn’t tell you he was inviting people over.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But I figured you’d be out the whole day!” he reasons. 

“You’re so fucking annoying, I hope you know that,” you sneer, and Noah can’t fight back. You scan the crowd, seeing a few familiar faces. If it wasn’t for them, you would have cussed him out right then and there.

He knows you’re tired from going out all day, he knows you just want to rest. “Okay, listen, this isn’t anything crazy, we’re just gonna drink and talk, no loud music or inviting more people. It’s just my friends.”

Friends. You scan the crowd once more. If Noah ever mentions anything about friends, one person is almost always involved.

Jamal. You lock eyes with him, he’s been staring at you from across the room since you walked in the door. There’s a mix of anger, frustration and yearning brewing in your chest. You want to shove him down a flight of stairs. You also want to run into his arms. It’s complicated.

Noah shoves a can of beer in your hands, and you finally look away from Jamal. “Here, take this. Loosen up,” he says before leaving. You sip away your unwanted emotions and wince like it stings going down. 

Knowing Jamal is here and with the intention of talking to you sparks an idea in your brain, washing a boost of confidence over your body. He can’t look away from you and you know it, and you had to take this chance in sending him a message.

Your message comes in the form of a youngster sitting on the living room couch.

“Mathys!” You approach him, arms wide to pull him in for a hug that seems a little too friendly in Jamal’s eyes. He grips his glass harder.

“Hey! When did you come in?” he asks, and you sit next to him, grazing your thigh against his. You take a big swig from the can, needing the extra tenacity.

“Not too long ago.” You start talking to Mathys about your day, striking up a normal conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch glimpses of Jamal glancing at you from time to time. It’s not enough. You want him to feel the way you did when you showed up on his doorstep the other day.

Mathys was happily recounting his encounter with some rapper he’d crossed paths with when you put your hand on his leg, rubbing his thigh up and down. You leaned in to his ear, covering your mouth to avoid Jamal from reading your lips. He jumps slightly at the motion, you’re never this close to him.

“Can I tell you something?” He nods, scared but intrigued.

“I’m trying to piss Jamal off. Will you help me?” Similarly to Jamal, you and Mathys have always been close friends. He’s younger than you, so you’ve always viewed him like a little brother more than anything, but that’s not to say you don’t appreciate his company. You knew he would definitely be down to help you tonight.

Mathys pulls away, searching deep in your eyes for certainty. He discovers you’re serious.

A smirk plays on his face as he nods slowly to himself. He’s not stupid, he quickly pieces things together. If he’s being honest, he’s always known something was going on between you and Jamal anyway. “Alright, alright. Deal.” “Deal, yeah? If anything I do gets too far, just tell me,” you assure.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be worth it in the end. Do what you must,” he says, winking.

It didn’t take long for the ball to start rolling. It starts off innocent — you laugh just a little too loud at one of his jokes, planting your palm on his chest as you do, playing with your hair. The small gesture has Jamal shifting uncomfortably where he stood.

It wasn’t enough.

You pull out your phone, asking Mathys if he wants a picture. He extends one arm behind you on the couch, leaning into you. Wrapping his shoulders with your free arm, you pushed your heads together, scooting closer to him, to the point where your legs were folded over his thighs. Jamal knows what you’re doing now, and it’s driving him to insanity. Yet, he stands there, unmoving.

It wasn’t enough.

The final straw came from Mathys. You tipped your drink as far back as you could, trying to get the last few sips from the can. A few stray drops landed on the corner of your mouth instead, dribbling down your chin as you raised your hand below it to make it stop. 

He reaches over to catch the beer with his thumb, cupping your face, gently swiping your lips.

Jamal storms out of the living room.

Mathys takes his hand off of you immediately afterwards, and you two share a laugh, feeling achieved. “Well, he’s really pissed now,” he remarks.

“Good.”

He glances at you in curiousity at your deadpan, sly response. He had fun doing this whole tidbit with you, but he doesn’t even know why you’re doing it in the first place. “What’d he even do to you for you to do this?”

“Long story,” you say it in a way that lets him know you’re not going to go into further detail. You stand up from the couch, bag in hand. “I’ll be in my room. Thanks Mathys, that was fun.” He winks at you, clicking his tongue in response.

You made the walk to you room with your head held high in victory. The message you were delivering was definitely heard by Jamal, loud and clear. He’s not the only one that gets to mess around with whoever he wants. 

You kick your heels off, throwing your bag on the floor and plopping down on the bed, scrolling on your phone. Tossing and turning, you ended up curled with your back facing the door, and that’s when it barges open.

“Hey.” You turn around, it’s Noah. You go back to scrolling on your phone.

“What do you want?” “I’m not gonna be at home tonight, yeah? Most of the guys already left anyway. Just wanted to let you know,” he says, rambling. “It’s just, work stuff…” You roll your eyes. Noah’s always been bad at keeping secrets, especially when it involves girls.

“Yes Noah, I’ll be fine alone while you go spend the night with that girl you met in Berlin. We all know you like her.” You don’t even have to look at Noah to know his mouth had fallen slack, the words being ripped from his throat.

“Man. That bad, huh?” Noah chuckles. “Alright, I’m leaving. Bye,” he says, shutting the door behind him.

A few minutes pass as you lied there unmoving. still scrolling through your feed when the door opens a second time. You hear the hinge creak open and the click of the knob as the person enters your room without saying a word.

You sit up straight, looking behind you. “Mathys? Is that y—” It’s Jamal. Daggers shoot from his eyes, watching you roll your eyes and go back to using your phone.

“What do you want, Jamal?” you groan. The fact that you’re not calling him by his usual nickname, not bothering to even spare a glance has his face contorting.

“Since when have you and Mathys been that close?” His voice is deep, interrogative, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t tense up at his tone, chills arising through your body.

You build up the courage to face him properly, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Why should I tell you about the people I’m hanging out with?”

“Hanging out?” he spits in disbelief, vitriol laced in his words.

“Yeah! Hanging out, Jamal, what’s so wrong about that? Huh?” you exclaim. You can’t believe the sheer hypocrisy in his words. “You’re one to judge, at least I was only talking to Mathys anyway.” “He had his hand around your neck and he was just gawking at your body the whole time, don’t act stupid!” he snaps back, raising his hands and dropping them to his sides.

You jump onto your feet. “At least I don’t go around fucking other girls as soon as one of them stops giving me attention!” Jamal’s eyes widen, offended. You both know what you were referring to.

“You told me you were going on a date with someone! You said he was the one — how the fuck was I supposed to know you were joking?!” He takes a few steps closer.

You struggle to find the right response, your mouth periodically opening and closing. He’s got a point. You hate that he does. “You didn’t even give me the chance to explain myself! You just stormed out of the house!”

“Yeah, of course! After hearing you say that, of course I did!” “Why?!” you ask, watching his eyes go wide, his mouth shut, unable (or maybe not wanting) to respond. “Tell me why.” Now it’s you who takes a step closer, and Jamal’s at arms length, causing you to look up at him as you speak.

He says nothing back. 

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s what I thought,” you mumble. You move past him, lightly bumping your shoulders together as you do to convey your anger. You need to get a drink from the kitchen, and hopefully by the time you come back, Jamal will be gone.

Just as your fingers graze the doorknob, a strong grip gets a hold of your arm. It all happened so fast. One second you were facing the door, the next — your back hit the wall, and Jamal’s lips were on yours.

The kiss was hungry, one of Jamal’s hands on the back of your head, tilting it to kiss you deeper, the other on your waist. Your arms naturally wrapped around his neck, scratching the back of his head, pulling him closer.

One of Jamal’s knees slipped between your legs, rubbing against your crotch. A breathy moan escaped your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth, meeting yours. It was a messy, desperate kiss — a clash of teeth and tongue, Jamal making up with his lips what he can’t with his voice.

Jamal runs his hands up and down your dress. Your dress — it’s the same one you wore a few days ago, when you first got into the argument. It’s driving him crazy and you know it, it’s evident in the way he trails his mouth lower to your neck and down to your exposed cleavage.

“Jl,” you whine, teetering on a plea. He presses his forehead against yours, watching your eyes trained on him, your lipstick smeared and loose strands flying from your hair. He don’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

“This dress looks so good on you.” It’s all he can say before he’s kissing you again, a lot softer this time around.

“Mhm. Wore it just for you,” you breathe in between kisses. “Now take it off, please.” Your voice, your words, they rush straight to his cock. 

“Jump,” he instructs, and you do. Jamal walks over to your bed, plopping you on the soft pillows, his lips moulding against yours the whole time. He presses kisses lower on your neck, sucking, biting, being sure to leave a trail of purple marks for to blossom tomorrow morning.

Jamal takes the cut of your dress in his hands, pulling the fabric down, groaning at the sight of you without a bra. He wastes no time in swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud, causing you to throw your head back, wrapping your legs around his waist. He sucks and pulls with his teeth, moulding the other with his hands before switching, grinding down on your clothed core.

Once he’s satisified, he takes one last look at your tits — now glossy with his spit and marked purple, before climbing lower down your body. He bunches the material of your dress up your waist, exposing your panties to him.

Jamal takes hold of your legs, pressing a kiss to your crotch, smirking when your back arches, whining at the contact. 

“Fuck, don’t tease, please.” Your hand pushes his head closer to where you’re dripping, where you want him the most.

Jamal chuckles at your desperation, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them carelessly aside. He spreads your lips, cursing under his breath when he sees the string of wetness that’s accumulated.

“You’re soaked,” he says, planting delicate kisses to the inside of your thighs, intently watching how you jolt at each one.

“Jamal, please.” He loves it when you beg. 

“Shh, I know, baby.” And he finally licks one long strip up your pussy, relishing in the way a moan is punched from your lips. You’re lucky your brother is out for the night, because he’s certain it can be heard through the walls.

He plants a few more kisses before spreading your lips, delving his tongue in your hole. Your thighs clamp shut around his head, but his strength pries them open. He alternates between fucking you with his tongue and sucking your clit, swirling figure-eights on it.

You’re a writhing mess, your throat dry from moaning and calling his name over and over. Jamal never wants to stop hearing the pretty noises you make.

He continues to push his tongue in your cunt, using his thumb to circle your clit, doubling the pleasure. He explores your walls, finding the spongy spot that punches a particularly loud moan from your throat.

“Fuck! Don’t—ah—don’t stop,” you beg, and Jamal is happy to oblige. He moans into your pussy, the vibrations rushing through your body. He feels you get wetter by the second, your juices coating his mouth and running down the sheets.

Your breathing is short and erratic, your fingers tugging at his hair as your orgasm washes over you, cumming all over Jamal’s mouth. He licks the slick running down your inner thighs, pressing some final few kisses to your clit before hovering over you, meeting your eyes.

The sight of Jamal above you is nothing short of glorious — his chin glossy from your juices, his eyes blown out and his lips plump and swollen. He can say the same for you below him, once snappy and sarcastic now panting and ruined.

You cup his cheek, adorlingly gazing into his eyes before tasting yourself on his tongue. He takes your wrists, one by one, pinning them above your head with one hand.

“Need to make sure you can take me, baby,” he coos. “Is that okay?” You nod rapidly. You’d say yes to anything if he asked.

Jamal chuckles, his free hand trailing lower down your body and finding your clit. You’re still sensitive from your last orgasm, bucking up into his hand when he does.

“J—oh.” He slips a finger into your cunt, watching the way your eyes roll to the back of your head and your jaw falls agape as you do. He pumps slowly at first, feeling your pinned hands try to escape his grip, but he pushes them down harder.

After a few moments, he slips another one in, filling you with two digits. “Shit,” you whine, closing your eyes shut.

“You can take it, yeah?” he asks. 

“Mhm, I can take more, a lot more.” Jamal feels his cock throb in his pants, desperate to be freed. He picks up the pace, and you squirm beneath him, taking your bottom lip in your teeth.

Jamal pushes deeper, curling his fingers inside your walls. Every time he fucks into you, his palm rubs against your clit, only adding to the pleasure. Once he finds your sweet spot, he relentlessly goes faster, chasing your second orgasm.

“Oh my god, fuck,” you blabber, unable to focus on anything else than the feeling of Jamal’s fingers.

“Hey, look at me,” he instructs, and eyes shoot open on instinct, seeing his brown eyes bore into yours.

“Want to see how you look when you cum.” 

You struggle in keeping your eyes open but do so to the best of your ability, your chest heaving up and down as your moans get more sporadic. Jamal is lost in your eyes, his wrist starting to tire from his movements. After one rough push of his hands, shockwaves rippling through your body as your second orgasm washes over you.

Slick runs down your thighs, onto the bedsheets and on Jamal’s wrist. He pulls out, causing you to whimper at the loss of contact before he licks them clean, tasting every last drop. Jamal sits up on his heels and you follow suit, kneeling in front of him. You grab the hem of his shirt, quickly pushing it up and over his head, exposing his torso. You’re entranced by his physique, trailing your nails down his chest and abs. His hand cups your cheek, pulling you into a kiss.

“Fuck me, J,” you plead in between kisses, and how could he say no?

“Get on all fours.” You flip over, arching your back, hanging your ass in the air for him. You hear the clink of his belt as he pulls down his trousers, watching from over your shoulder.

“I told you to take my dress off,” you remind him, lightening the mood a bit. You have to stifle back a moan as he spreads your ass, pulling you flush against the shape of his bulge, lowly moaning when he does. 

Jamal pauses for a moment. “Nah.” He pulls his boxers down, taking his cock in his hands, hard and throbbing, jerking himself off before aligning the tip with your pussy.

“Wanna fuck you in it.” 

He slides his cock up and down your slit before pushing into you in one long stroke. A long moan is drawn from your throat as your head drops, feeling him slowly stretch you out, stopping until his pelvis was flush with your ass. 

It takes a few moments for you to adjust to his size, hearing Jamal whisper soft praises as he grips your hips, rolling his slowly to help. Once you do, he pulls back out, only living the tip in your cunt, before slamming back in and finding a rhythm.

“Shit,” you spit through a mix of moans and curses, feeling him push into you over, and over, and over. After a particulary rough snap of his hips, your elbows give out under you, causing you to bury your face in the sheets, arching your back harder.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect.” You hear Jamal breathe from behind you. His eyes are trained on where you’re taking him raw, seeing the glossy sheen coat his shaft, glowing underneath your bedroom lights.

His hands are rough where he gropes, alternating between bunching your dress up higher, spreading your ass and gripping your hips, slamming you against him harder. 

Jamal pulls you up to his chest, one hand loosely hanging around your neck. You can barely process the change of position until you feel his bare chest flush against your back.

His lips curl into a smirk, watching your mouth slightly open, the filthiest of sounds pouring out into his ears, spit welling in its corners. Your eyes struggle to stay open, your head lulling on his shoulder.

“Don’t—ah—don’t stop, please,” you blabber, drunk on his hips snapping up into you. 

Jamal plants a featherlight kiss on your temple. “Never.” He plants another. “So good, so good for me.”

He moulds his lips against yours, a messy clash of teeth and tongue. You struggle to kiss back, only whining into his mouth.

The knot in your stomach grows tighter by the second, your moans getting increasingly higher pitched by the second, your face contorting in pleasure. You’re close, Jamal knows it too.

“I’m close, fuck.” You reach out to him behind you, trying to lock him in place so he doesn’t stop. Not like he was planning on it, anyway.

Jamal twitches inside you, and you know he’s close too. His thrusts get sloppier, more sporadic, chasing your high before his own.  “Cum for me, go on,” he coos, lips ghosting over your earlobe. 

He reaches around your torso, his fingers finding your clit, circling figure-eights. It’s all it takes for your orgasm to wash over you in waves, sending your thighs shaking. Jamal doesn’t stop, he fucks you through it all, pressing kisses on your neck and shoulder, fingers still trained between your thighs. Jamal pulls out, causing you to hiss at the sudden sensation of being empty. You’re spent, chest heaving and sticky with sweat, but you still find the energy to turn around, facing him. He’s jerking himself off in his hands, his cock red and throbbing, begging for a release.

You look up at him with mischievous eyes, his own watching your every move. You pull your dress up and over your head, leaving yourself bare in front of him, sitting on your heels.

Jamal kneels high above you, groaning when he watches you push your tits together, inviting him closer. His head tips back when you stick your tongue out, kitten licking the tip of his cock, tasting the precum dripping from its head.

Strings of white liquid are painted across your chest as Jamal cums, shuddering. You feel some hit your chin, darting your tongue to get a taste, never breaking eye contact.

He cups your chin, pressing his lips onto yours, leaving chaste kisses. You both stay like that for a while, lazily making out, smiling against each other’s lips.

Jamal plants one final kiss before pulling away. “Stay here, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He walks in your bathroom, leaving with a towel and a water bottle he’d found somewhere not long after. 

You let him gently swipe the towel against your chest, his hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing back and forth against your skin. While you two sat in silence, it wasn’t an awkward one, far from it. It was comforting. It felt familiar, this domesticity. It felt natural.

You don’t say anything when he pulls you to lay on his chest. You don’t say anything when he pulls the blanket over you two, turning off the lights. You just focus on his heartbeat.

A throbbing headache has been your alarm these past few mornings, and today is no different.

The sunlight spills through the cracks in your curtains, bleeding through your shut eyelids. You slowly ease into consciousness, sitting up and rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

The first thing that hits you is the cold. A shiver runs through your body, instinctively pulling the blanket closer to you.

The second thing that hits you is your lack of clothes. You blink away the drowsiness, examining yourself, completely bare. Peculiar, but not unfamiliar.

The third thing that hits you is the weight on the opposite side of your bed when you yank the comforter. Your eyes widen at the sight of an undressed Jamal, blanket only covering so much, stirring awake next to you. His toned abs in full display, glowing golden in the sunlight.

It doesn’t take long for your brain to floor your memories of recollections from last night. You wince, face scrunching in disbelief as the images flashed in your head one by one.  What were you thinking?

You bend down to grab the first article of clothing you could find — Jamal’s shirt. Not ideal but it’ll do. You put it on to cover yourself, standing up with the plan of getting as far away from him as possible.

A strong grip on your arm stops your plans. 

Jamal calls your name, voice gruff and thick with the early morning. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the sound.

“Where are you headed?” he asks, adoringly.

No. This is wrong. You can’t think of him that way, someone who’s supposed to be irrevocably off-limits — so you get right to the point.

“Jamal.” His eyebrows furrow at the sound of you calling his full name. You’re never in a good mood when you do. “This, this cant… we can’t…” You watch him look up at you like he was expecting this from a mile away. 

With one pull, he tugs you back in bed, causing you to sit on his lap, albeit not fully. You don’t want to run away from him, deep down you know you don’t, and he knows that too. 

“Why? You scared of Noah?” 

You’re not sure how to respond.

“This isn’t even, I mean, we’re not even…” you struggle to string the right words together.

Jamal cups your cheek and you melt into his touch. Your words say one thing but your body suggests another. 

“I like you, I really do. I know I didn’t get the chance to say it last night,” he assures. You feel your cheeks heat at the sudden confession. “I don’t want to see you with someone else. I don’t want to act like I’m perfectly fine when you bring up some other guy.” You look deep into his eyes with a look that says, me too. After last night you knew you and Jamal would never be the same, for better or for worse. You pick the former.

“And especially not Mathys, Jesus.” You chuckle, finally lightening up. “Out of all the people you wanted to use to make me jealous, you chose him. Blegh.”

The giggles leaving your chest are unabashed the second time around. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, and it sucked.” Jamal’s palm lets go of your face, dropping down to take your hand in his. He resumes to his original point. “I want this, okay? I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to see you in my shirt every day,” he says while fumbling with the hem of his shirt hanging off your frame. 

“I want you.” 

You wrap an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in closer, this time properly sitting on his lap. “Never took you for such a romantic, J.” 

He stifles in a laugh, pressing his forehead against yours before closing the gap. You’re finally his.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘'𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘 𝗠𝗬 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N is targeted by a certain ghost during the filming of the Sam and Colby ft. Sturniolo Triplets video.

REQUESTED?: Yes, from anon.

WARNING: Paranormal, supernatural, ghosts, mediumship, physical injury, pain.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: This one happens in the same "universe" of this Matt Sturniolo x Reader of mine.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Wow, the smell of roses in here has gotten stronger." Matt commented as soon as Colby closed the large door behind them, lifting his chin slightly as he smelled the strong scent of flowers.

It was time to investigate the Maximillian room, which was on the mezzanine; the room that held eight mirrors surrounded by gold that cost way too much and a painting of Empress Carlota, who, according to legend, was there because of those same mirrors, as they were gifts from her husband at the time.

And it was precisely because of her that Y/N was feeling so anxious. From the moment the hotel guides took them to there while showing them all the main haunted rooms in the building, the girl felt strange.

Because Y/N was a medium and was aware of it since she was a child - consequently training her "skill" as she grew up -, her sensations with the supernatural were duplicated and very accurate; Not only could she see, hear and feel the presences, but she could also feel what came with them and the weight of each one.

That's why, on her first trip to the room, she quickly found Carlota, who surprisingly allowed the girl to see her, but Y/N wished she hadn't. Carlota was beautiful, exactly as in her painting, still dressed in classical clothes, but her eyes carried so much anguish. Contrary to the hope of Audrey - their main guide -, Carlota did not appear to have found peace in the afterlife.

But what surprised Y/N, or scared her the most, was the hatred in the ghost's eyes, and strangely, this hatred was directed only at her.

Upon stepping into that room for the second time that night, the girl felt nausea rise from her stomach to her throat, swallowing hard; Her heart raced stupidly fast and the hair on her arms and legs stood up, raising goose bumps on her skin. A weight settled on her shoulders and the back of her neck, making her feel as if any sudden movement would send her straight to the ground.

Her hands shook slightly as her eyes swept the room. She focused her senses better, being able to capture several spirits coming and going from one mirror to another, reminding her of the portals created by them. Y/N felt the pain, sadness, anger, and melancholy of each of the ghosts, her throat becoming dry and her eyes burning with tears. She felt overwhelmed.

"Baby? Hey, what happened?" Matt's soft voice close to her ear woke her from her intense trance, her eyes meeting the blue ones that kept her grounded.

Y/N noticed that the others were a little further away and already in the center of the room, talking to each other while Sam arranged the camera to record the investigation. She was internally grateful that Matt had come to her unnoticed without attracting attention from the others.

"Sorry, I'm fine. Just overwhelmed. This place has a horrible atmosphere." Y/N responded in the same soft tone as her boyfriend, keeping her eyes fixed on his, trying to convey confidence.

"If I'm feeling the burden in these walls, I can only imagine what you're feeling, dove. I promise I'll be by your side the whole time, and if it gets too much, let me know, and we'll leave right away." The boy spoke, taking Y/N's right hand with his left one, squeezing lightly. Y/N smiled in gratitude. She was so lucky to have him with her.

"So Carlota likes compliments and flirting?" Colby's deep voice caught the couple's attention while asking the rhetorical question. Y/N and Matt looked up at the others, seeing Sam already with the camera on and passing the lens along the decorated walls surrounding them.

Matt turned off the light on the switch near the door as previously agreed before they approached the others, ready to start what they needed to do there.

"Hey Carlota, here we have five fine men, but only three are single and available for you." Matt spoke first while settling close to his brothers, his eyes scanning the space completely despite being able to see practically nothing through the darkness.

Y/N followed his action, sweeping her eyes around her and the ghosts there, internally trying to focus only on Carlota's spirit. She kept her right hand intertwined with Matt's, not wanting to let go of his warmth, knowing that he was the only one who could keep her under control in that situation.

"Can you see her, Cole Sear?" Nick asked Y/N, crossing his arms and looking at the girl with a curious gaze, who nodded after rolling her eyes momentarily at the reference to the movie Six Senses, smiling sideways.

Nick was scared to death of watching horror movies, but he loved it when Y/N watched them all and then told him the story.

"I can, but I can also see several other ghosts that probably have nothing to do with the hotel's history and are only here because of the portals. I'm trying to just focus on her."

Colby and Chris started throwing random pick-up lines into thin air, trying to attract the Empress's ghost. Their words made Y/N let out a low laugh, they were ridiculous.

After a significant effort, Y/N finally managed to clear all the ghosts in the room from her mind, being able to see only Carlota. The woman stood a few steps away, her eyes on Colby and Chris as she held an elegant and calm posture, an arrogant smile on her face, probably satisfied with all the attention.

But that changed when she realized that Y/N saw her completely now, her empty eyes going to the girl, a flame of anger and disdain shining behind them, seeming to penetrate Y/N's eyes and run throughout her mind.

The girl's hands flew to her own head almost instantly, pressing down on each side as her body arched slightly forward, a growl escaping her throat as her knees shook, weakened by the sudden pain.

Matt had never moved so fast, his body positioned in front of his girlfriend's as his hands held her arms, which were more tense than ever before, her own fingers tangling in strands of her loose hair, pulling hard while trying to stop the intense pain of the sudden migraine.

"Y/N? Baby, talk to me. What's... What's going on?" Matt spoke in a desperate tone, his eyes going from his girlfriend to the boys repeatedly, hoping they would have some kind of response.

Nick and Chris ran to the two, positioning themselves on either side of Y/N, choosing not to touch her so as not to worsen her overload but showing that they were there for her.

"It must be some spirit that is messing with her, perhaps trying to attack her or, at worst, control her." Colby commented, approaching as well as his eyes traveled around the dark room, looking for any clue as to what it was, even if he couldn't see anything.

Sam lowered the camera, the lens focusing on his feet as he too approached. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, the blonde knew well what it was like to be attacked by spirits, and if he could, he would put an end to what Y/N was feeling at that very moment.

"Matt." Y/N let out in a pained groan, an intense pressure establishing in her right arm, as if something was holding, or rather crushing the region. She lifted her left hand, placing it on Matt's right shoulder while trying to find stability.

With great difficulty, the girl looked to her right from the corner of her eye, catching Carlota there, just a few inches apart from her. Feelings of fury and disgust emanated from her aura as her right hand squeezed Y/N's arm, and although she didn't say anything, the girl knew that that gesture was a request - mandate - for her to get out of there.

Nick and Chris spoke to Sam and Colby in low tones, probably trying to understand the situation and find a solution to reverse it.

"I'm here, honey. I'm right here." Matt whispered repeatedly, bending down slightly to be at the same height as Y/N while holding her hand that was on his shoulder, stroking the skin softly with his fingers.

He felt his breathing quicken in anxiety at the sight of his girl's state, panic wanting to take over his body, but he maintained control, closing his eyes momentarily to compose himself, as he whispered sweet nothings against his girl's ear.

Seconds later, when he saw that Y/N was still moaning and grunting in pain, he took a deep breath before turning around, turning his back to the girl and facing the room. Little did he know that Carlota was right next to him.

"I demand that you cut all effect on Y/N right now. You are not allowed to mess with her." Matt's voice was stern, like never before. His eyes held determination while running around the room, his hands behind him, maintaining contact with his girlfriend's body. "She's not yours!" He growled.

Suddenly, all the pressure on Y/N vanished, and a feeling of relief took over her, as if fresh air had entered her nostrils and filled her lungs, bringing comfort to her body. The girl exhaled sharply, removing her hands from her head slowly, as if expecting the worst.

Y/N straightened her posture, opening her eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the light. One of the boys had probably turned it on in the meantime, and the girl mentally thanked whoever had done it, finally being able to see the surroundings better.

The negative and evil energy had left her side, but Carlota was still in the room, Y/N could feel her.

Matt turned abruptly, facing Y/N again, pulling her into his arms as he held her head against his chest, caressing the area carefully.

"You're okay. You're okay." The boy repeated it like a mantra, trying to calm Y/N or himself. He wasn't sure.

Y/N winced at Matt's movement, the pain in her arm intensifying, reminding her that Carlota had almost ripped it off.

“Wait, are you hurt? Where does it hurt, Y/N?” Nick asked after hearing it, finally getting close enough to be able to lightly touch his best friend's shoulder, a worried look decorating his face.

Matt pulled away from Y/N almost instantly, ready to investigate her injury, feeling anger rising through his veins. If he could see and touch ghosts, he would kill Carlota again.

Y/N just raised her right arm, rolling up the sleeve of her jacket with her left hand. Chris, who was on the other side of the girl like a bodyguard, his blue eyes still darting around the room as if expecting something to appear out of nowhere, let a surprised sound escape his lips at the sight.

"Oh my God, Y/N. This is bad." The youngest of the triplets murmured, an expression of discomfort taking over his face as he thought about the pain resulting from the injury.

A handprint was perfectly carved on Y/N's arm. It looked like someone had taken a pencil and ink and drawn in the area. That would definitely turn out purple.

"That's crazy, dude. Does it hurt bad?" Colby asked, taking a few steps closer to get a better view, receiving a nod from the girl, who was still looking at the mark in disbelief.

"When you said you were Lorraine Warren, I didn't think you would perform the entire The Conjuring movie. If I had known, I would have brought a priest and some holy hater." Sam joked, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere, as he momentarily turned off the camera.

The blonde made a quick mental note to delete all footage of that disturbing episode, not wanting to expose such a vulnerable moment of his new friend.

Y/N let out a laugh. The ghosts really hated her.

[wonderlandwalker]

Cherished Moments | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick is trying to get you to relax and, well, it works maybe a bit too much.

Content Warnings/Tags: Mostly fluff, small injury, lovesick Finnick, grumpy!reader x sunshine!Finnick, insinuations of violence, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.2k

Requested by Anon: I love your writing!!! What do you think a grumpy reader × sunshine finnick would be like? Love the back cat gf golden retriever bf trope haha and I feel like finnick would be obsessed with someone who was mean to everyone BUT him! Feel free to ignore if you don't feel inspired, I'll read everything you write anyway!!

A/N: Can someone pls let me know if they actually manage to find the request after I've posted them I have no clue if these are getting through. Ngl this one was a struggle for me but once I found the right idea it came pouring out. Do they even have darts in the Hunger Games universe? Well, they do now. Keep sending me requests I genuinely love doing them!!

“Come on, I know you can do it! I’ve seen you throw knives, this is pretty much the same thing, only smaller.” Finnick was trying to encourage you, but you weren’t easy to win over. 

“I’m telling you, I can’t. This is just different. The darts are so much smaller and lighter, it throws me off balance.” You were at a party in District 13, well, calling it a party would be generous. 

“Just try. I’ll help you come on. I promise it’ll be fun.” He couldn't hide his smile at your antics, but he also knew if anyone was able to convince you, it was him.

“Fine, but if something goes wrong it's on you.” You looked him in the eyes, and could see a spark of light inside them, and you wouldn't admit it, not with all the other people in the room, but it warmed your heart a little.

“It’ll be fine, what’s the worst that could happen” He asked you, and you almost scoffed at the question.

“I could hit someone, and then everyone will hate me even more than they already do”

“They don't hate you, they just don't know you the way I do.” Whenever someone would ask him what he saw in you, he would always be dumbfounded. Sure, you had a hard exterior, but when someone has gone through as much in their life as you did, were you really to blame? No, he didn't understand the question, because, to him, you were perfect. Whether you were sulking at breakfast for having to leave the bed or smiling at him because they were serving your favourite dish for dinner, he would take anything you gave him. 

“Are you telling me that you, the victor of the 70th Hunger Games, are afraid of hurting someone with a tiny dart?” He was challenging you, and it was working.

“I'm not afraid, I just don't want anything to go wrong.” The way your voice softened around him made his heart beat faster for you and sometimes, he swore you knew and were doing it on purpose.

“You won’t, just throw it straight into the board.”

Finnick is standing behind you, grinning like he’s just won some sort of lottery while he guides your arm up for you, you can feel his breath on your neck before he whispers “Come on love, do it for me.” You’ve never been able to deny him, to your own annoyance at times, so you do as he says.

The dart flies through the air, and it doesn't hit the board, but it comes relatively close. So you throw a second dart and it hits the board, but you don’t manage to score any points just yet. As you throw another one, it manages to hit the board, but only for a little while before it falls to the floor. You throw your hands up in defeat before saying “See, told you I couldn't do it.” But Finnick hasn't given up, in you, he would never give up.

“That’s nonsense, you just have to try again, be patient.” He walks over to collect your darts and hands them back to you. He steps behind you again, guiding you into the right position before speaking.

“Just close your eyes, imagine you’re throwing them at Snow.” It makes you laugh and he can feel your muscles relax. He would always feel so proud of himself when he made you laugh, he didn't mind that you don't do it often, it would only feel like so much more of an achievement.

You do as he says, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath right before you throw the dart, hitting it right in the bullseye. You throw another, hitting the bullseye again. But you miss the board with the next one when Finnick leaves a small kiss on your shoulder, and your breath hitches. You can feel his body moving from behind you, and focus to throw another dart. It’s only when you hear an exclamation of pain coming from right in front of you that you snap open your eyes, you would recognize it anywhere. In front of you was Finnick, standing right next to the board with one of his hands clutched in the other, and when you take a closer look, you can see the dart that is stuck in the back of Finnick's hand.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry are you okay.” He would never tell you this, but he doesn't even mind that it happened, seeing you being sweet on him so openly, it makes him forget anything even happened in the first place.

“I'm fine sweetheart.” there is a strain in his voice, and he knows you can hear it too from the way your brows furrow in regret. You knew he wasn't trying to be tough for you, no, you had moved past that years ago. he was trying to not make you worry, it was something he would always do no matter how much pain he was in. But you were worried, because in contrast to all those other times, this time it was your fault that he was hurt. It never phased you much when someone would get shot, it never phased you much as you heard the canons each night in the arena signalling another death, not in the way it phased other people, but this, this broke you.

“Finnick you are not fine, there is a fucking dart inside your hand and it's my fault.”

“Well, most people don’t throw a fourth dart sweetheart." He says, and he chuckles a little, but you don't hear it in your state of worry.

“I am so sorry I-” You were choking up over your guilt, and while he loved getting to see your raw emotions, this one he didn't enjoy.

“Hey, no, I'm sorry too, don't get yourself worked up over this. It's just a dart, I will be fine. Why don’t you go get me a first aid kit?” He really was fine, and he could have gotten it himself, but he knew how much you would get in your own head when you didn't have anything to do in these kinds of situations. 

Once you come back and help patch him up, he looks up at you and you catch his gaze. A smile crosses his face in a way he knows his cheeks are going to hurt.

“Why are you smiling” you ask, confused at his glee in a situation like this.

“Because I know you care about me. You don’t always show it, and you don’t have to, because moments like these I’ll cherish forever.” His eyes are sparkling as he looks into yours, he swears he could just stand here and look at you for the rest of his life. 

“Oh, would you shut up already” you tell him while swatting his hand away from your face and rolling your eyes.

“You can’t tell me to shut up, you threw a dart into my hand.” He’s still grinning like an idiot, and it's infecting you. One of the corners of your mouth lifts up, and it's subtle, but he catches it, how could he not with how intently he is watching you. You’re back to your old dynamic, but he loves it just as much.

[obsessivelyloved]

This was requested on one of my nsfw blogs but I went insane and made it 3,000 words long. So I can post most of it here lol. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky. The ending is abrupt here bc the rest of it/the ending is nsfw. I was up til 5am writing this and I'm not writing a sfw ending for this blog until after i get more sleep.

Anon asks: I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor. Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down. BIG MISTAKE

___________________________________________________________

“You dropped this.” 

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand. 

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt. 

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.” 

You give him another smile and walk past him. He seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job. 

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more. 

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read. 

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty. 

CASE INFORMATION: 

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15). 

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20). 

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file. 

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room. 

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.” 

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you. 

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.” 

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.” 

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder. 

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place? 

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help. 

You storm out of the breakroom and wander. 

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down. 

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional. 

“You used to dye your hair?” 

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.” 

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.” 

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?” 

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously. 

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?” 

Whatever it may be, you smile at him. 

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.” 

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm. 

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”) 

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section. 

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair. 

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects. 

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations. 

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health. 

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve. 

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind. 

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down. 

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again. 

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down. 

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming. 

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash. 

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open. 

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze. 

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you. 

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless. 

Useless information floods your brain. 

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light. 

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He��s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face. 

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.” 

[loganwritesprobably]

Feel Bad? Nah

A request from anon for my 200 followers event

Find the 200 followers event here!

Content/Warnings: Benn Beckman/GN!Reader, sexual content, cheating on bad partner,

You hadn't meant to do it.. okay maybe you had. There was no use hiding it really, but you also didn't feel bad about it. He didn't deserve you feeling bad about it.

You'd had a partner, back on your home island, before you'd joined the Red Hair Pirates. He'd been sweet, at first, but over time he'd changed. Story of your life. He'd been doting, cared for you, you felt good. Then, you'd experienced the way your friends on the Red Force treated you, and in comparison he didn't seem all that special anymore. Then, his letters had changed in tone too. He was frustrated at first about you being separated, which you understood, being long distance was hard. Then he was angry you'd left. Then he talked bad about your crew members. Then he turned to accusing you.

And, well, if he'd already made up his mind, you may as well be exactly what he accused you of. It wasn't like he could do anything to stop you, and you could just choose to never go back home.

Benn was a far better lay than your ex ever could've been, too.

You'd spent many nights (and early mornings) together, moaning and borderline screaming, bringing yourselves pleasure over and over, in a way you'd never experienced before. You stopped missing him, stopped responding to his letters, stopped reading them altogether. You weren't official with Benn, but you didn't need to be, you were happy with what you had going.

One day, the snail rang. Shanks hadn't been expecting a call, and when it began with yelling, he'd almost put it down, until he saw your face. It was your ex. "Let me, please boss." Benn said with a grin that promised trouble, and with a smirk of his own, Shanks handed the snail over.

"How can we help ya?" Benn asked, rocking back in his chair, feet propped up on the table in front of him. "Sorry, don't know anyone called that." He said, looking directly at you. He winked, flicking his tongue out to wet his lips. "Oh shit, you're right. No, I know who you mean. Yeah, but I wouldn't say yours." There was a pause, then a lot of yelling, with some strong language. "Well yeah, have to say, I didn't realise. Otherwise I probably wouldn't have spent all those nights inside them like that."

Benn sat the snail back on the table and let your ex yell himself hoarse. What did either of you care what he had to say anyway? Eventually, he picked the snail up once again to speak. "Yeah, I'm done listening to your horseshit. Don't call again." And then he ended the call. Well, at least that ties off that loose end.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | WIPs | Recommendations

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

[cosmicstarlatte]

Your blog and headcanons are living in my brain since i got here, and i just want to say, thank you, i love your work 💕 also, i saw this in other posts (i was in the monster fucker side and end up in the lover side, but im not complaining) about demon relantionship dynamics and i have a question, who of the demons do you think would use an accesory made of something of MC?

TW: blood and hair being used as accesory, demon dynamic being a little disturbing.

Like imagine if with magic MC (safelly) could make jewells with their blood, or in a more victorian way, maybe a bracelet with a lock of their hair. In my mind there would be Satan and Barbatos who have the jewellry always on them but are discret, and then there is Mammon and Asmo who show whatever MC gave them with pride.

Thank you so much anon!!!♡ It's messages like these that keep me motivated, I'm honored!!! 🥰 I hope you don't mind I changed it to just items with blood 😎 I was gonna keep this short originally but ended up getting carried away. This was seriously SO fun to write! I rly think they all would!

Giving Them An Item With Your Blood (Obey Me!)

Tags: Blood, Fluff, Demon Bros, Barb, Dia, GN!Reader, HCs

Lucifer: "Hm? It's from ___."

If someone happens to catch a rare glance at it & are curious enough to ask, he has no problem proudly answering he got the bloody vial necklace from you. He's not shy or ashamed about it, but prefers to keep it between you & him. It usually stays well hidden behind his high collared shirts. Sometimes when he's at home in his office & shirt unbuttoned, he will fidget around with it while doing paperwork. He loves it but won't ever tell you or anyone else how very attached to it he is. ♡

Mammon: "This one!? Not up for betting, scram!"

When isn't Mammon flashy??? The day you gave him the ring filled with some of your blood was basically the day you got married (in his mind) & he went around showing everyone. Of course some of his buddies asked if he'd bet it for a chance at clearing his debt but even that's one bet Mammon refused. He has a ritual of kissing his ring everyday, he thinks of it as his good luck charm even when he's actually having a bad day. He makes you kiss it to add extra luck (love) to it too. ♡

Levi: "I will guard this with my life."

Let's be honest, he doesn't care what it is & would wear/take whatever you give him. Your hairbrush? He will cuddle it.

When you presented him a blood vial bracelet, he got all teary eyed & nearly fainted from excitement. It easily became his most prized possession, he takes such good care of it. He wears it openly & you can see him fidget around with it when he gets anxious. Sometimes he will lightly rub or hold it against his cheek, calming him down when he's overwhelmed. ♡

Satan: "That's what you get for touching things that aren't yours."

His smile was radiant, blinding. Satan's gift is unique just like him & he appreciates the thoughtfulness of a handmade blood infused bookmark. It's one he takes care of & makes sure it doesn't get lost in the mess of his room. He did curse it (you'll get a hand burn) so no one else can touch it except you & him. From time to time he gets distracted by it when reading. He wants to ask if you'll attach a blood charm to the end of it too. ♡

Asmo: "My outfit isn't complete until I put this on!"

He squealed, cried, & wouldn't let you go for the entire day after gifting him the little box of jewelry. He went on to rub it in everyone's faces & showed it off on all his socials. The main gift was a gorgeous charm, the blood swirled, glittering inside. You made sure he could pop the charm into the ring, necklace, or bracelet you also gave him in the box. He was impressed you went to such lengths just so he could always choose how to wear it each day. Even if it was a single piece though, he would've worn it no matter what, even if it "clashed" with his outfit. ♡

Beel & Belphie: "We promise to never take it off." "You promise too ___!"

The twins immediately pulled you into bed & cuddled with you, happily accepting their gifts. You gave each a pendant, a sun for Beel & a moon for Belphie, the middle of each pendant holding your precious red liquid. You even got a star pendant for yourself to match with them although your pendant remained empty; something they noticed quickly. They happily offered up their own blood; they never minded sharing as long as it's with you. ♡♡

Barbatos: "I'm...at a loss for words, thank you."

He kissed your cheek before turning his attention to the golden pocket watch you gave him. He handled it delicately, admiring the ancient designs etched onto it before opening it. It was a gorgeous watch, one of the inner side walls swirled beautifully with your blood. He enjoyed the hidden surprise inside for his eyes only. Truly, he was moved by your gift & made a mental note to give you something in return. ♡

Diavolo: "An absolute treasure this is."

He gave you a tight hug, nearly cutting your air supply off. He's received many gifts throughout the years but the custom pen you gave him was now at the top of the list. Only a see-through compartment of the pen held your blood, floating around. The actual ink inside the pen was regular but refillable for permanent use. He found himself smiling a little more even when filling out the piles of paperwork on his desk. It also finally fixed his habit of losing pens, making sure he always has it on him for quick signing (& Barbatos thanks you for it). ♡

Also I like to think that if they really miss you, they'll hold their object close to their nose to get a whiff of your scent ♡ alakskfgllsskfkg

⬦You might also like: Coffee Shop︱Two A.M.︱Pick-Me-Up

[jackhues]

ferrari?! - charles leclerc

request: hii I loved your wolff!reader x charles ig concept could you please write more of them<33

requested by: anon : )

notes: trying out some new things, hope you guys like it, and pls don't be silent readers!! thanks for requesting <3

join my f1 taglist!

part one

pictures are not mine!

y/nwolff

liked by scuderiaferrari, lucawolff, pierregasly & others

y/nwolff - charles has got dad's approval, ferrari on the other hand... also, luca's a pain, i don't recommend having older brothers. check out the full video on my youtube! tagged lucawolff

pierregasly: did you guys take him on vacation to tell him?? -> y/nwolff: we needed him to be a little bit happy. i had no idea how he was going to react

lucawolff: older brothers are goated -> y/nwolff: i'd like to return mine

y/nisqueen: the pinky promise 🥺 liked by y/nwolff

charles_leclerc: so am i allowed to be in his vision or will he destroy me on sight?? -> y/nwolff: you can be in his vision lmaoo -> charles_leclerc: really? -> lucawolff: don't listen to her, she's lying -> y/nwolff: go away luca! but just to be on the safe side charlie, you should probably be near me so that his (nonexistent) anger dies down -> charles_leclerc: this isn't boosting my confidence -> userone: charlie 🥺🥺

usertwo: this is the toto content we signed up for!

userthree: luca and y/n are the best siblings on this app, love them!!

userfour: bestie, when's the new music coming?? liked by y/nwolff -> y/nwolff: we'll see 🤭

conangray: why is this the funniest thing i've ever seen?? liked by y/nwolff -> oliviarodrigo: it's true, he hasn't stopped laughing for twenty minutes

f1newsandmore

liked by userone, usertwo, userthree & others

f1newsandmore: Toto Wolff and Charles Leclerc spotted before the race. After the video of Toto reacting to his daughter, Y/N Wolff, dating Charles Leclerc, we're all dying to know just exactly what this conversation was about. tagged charles_leclerc, y/nwolff

userone: toto explaining to charles that he's not good enough for y/n while he's with ferrari -> usertwo: and charles zoning out the second he heard y/n's name liked by charles_leclerc

userthree: i'm so invested in this entire thing -> userfour: aren't we all??

y/nwolff

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, oliviarodrigo & others

y/nwolff: dad, i promise i'm still a mercedes girl 📷 : charles_leclerc 🤍

lucawolff: says she's a mercedes girl, tags a ferrari boy -> y/nwolff: if you took the pictures like i asked, you'd get the creds

charles_leclerc: the ferrari bracelet is saying otherwise -> y/nwolff: charles!! shh!! -> userone: LMAO! y/n's fighting for her life and charles out here exposing her

lewishamilton: mercedes >> ferrari -> y/nwolff: LOUDER FOR THE PPL IN THE BACK!

landonorris: mclaren >>> -> y/nwolff: boo 👎👎

y/nisqueen: YOU LOOK STUNNING! liked by y/nwolff -> y/nwolff: mwah 🥰

y/nwolff has posted on their story!

caption: 🤍

charles_leclerc

liked by lucawolff, conangrey, pierregasly & others

charles_leclerc: date night! (with toto's approval) tagged y/nwolff

y/nwolff: can't believe you didn't post the vid of me throwing you in the water -> charles_leclerc: i need to at least try and look cool on social media love -> userone: no one cares if you look cool! we wanna see the vid! liked by y/nwolff -> y/nwolff: don't worry, i gotchu -> charles_leclerc: i'm concerned -> lucawolff: no one told you to vote yes when she asked if she should make a yt channel -> charles_leclerc: y/n literally told me to -> lucawolff: this is where being a simp gets you -> y/nwolff: get out of my bf's comments or i'll post the vids from your last bday party -> userone: I LOVE THIS!

lucawolff: is no one gonna ask for my approval??! -> y/nwolff: no -> lucawolff: rude -> charles_leclerc: you literally covered for us for months, the approval had been given -> lucawolff: oh yeah -> usertwo: lmaoo luca tryna start shit but it didn't work!

userthree: time to pack my bags and sleep on the highway

userfour: they're so cute!

userfive: god, when will it be my turn?? 😭😭

part one

[krowlovesinazuma]

Alright, first request of mine on this blog:

Working from the prologue, how would Yae Miko, Ei, and Kirara react when they first see you?

(Non-related to the request, but I bet I'm gonna be the only one here that's not an Anon haha)

Oh nice, my first request! I'll do these separately, and in headcanons! Also, perhaps, but we'll see if this blog becomes popular or not hehe :3

Read this prologue for context!

Scenario: Meeting reader after he appears in Teyvat

Characters: Yae Miko, Ei, Kirara

Once she catches sight of someone without clothes from Teyvat out of nowhere, she's the first to make a logical connection to the divine, and take you somewhere safe. She won't ask many questions, not until she can ensure that the two of you are nice and private.

While in the outside she might look composed and serious, inside she's definitely nervous. She hasn't been in the presence of someone of such divine nature apart from Ei in so long, and she needs to ensure both your safety and well-being.

Once she sees you being receptive to her commands though, and calm once you're in the safety of her closed off shrine however, she relaxes, and begins asking questions, to ensure her assumptions of course. She can't get too carried away yet, even if you do know her name, and recognized her at first sight...

You've never seen Miko with such a serious glint in her eye apart from the archon quest, and seeing it up close is, frankly, a little terrifying. You don't know how it happened, or why you're here at all, so you can't help but worry.

That's when she catches sight of your golden blood, and you can see her eyes starting to sparkle with excitement, her shoulders relaxing from their tense posture, and her tail starting to sway more freely...

"... I'm sorry, oh divine one... Hm, no titles? Very well. I couldn't be sure of what I saw, not when I've seen my fair share of trickery and deceit through the centuries... I promise, you have my full trust now. Now, let's put that stuffy atmosphere behind us."

Let's be honest, Ei hasn't seen much of the present Teyvat, and as such has lost a grip on the culture, especially foreign culture. So when she sees your clothing, she imagines that you're just a traveler. Perhaps she should make a proper first appearance...

As soon as she approaches however, you exclaim her name with happiness, which she immediately causes her to do a second take. How did you know about her name, and not her title? Her eyes shrink, and her mind becomes easily confused.

That's when you show the golden drops of blood, and Ei's mind explodes. All this time, she believed that she would never get a chance to see you in a physical form, and you can see her eyes shaking with so many emotions...

She takes you away to the Plane of Euthymia, for your own safety she says, but as there's the tiniest shaking in her voice, you can't help but suspect it's actually to help her calm down and have some private time with you.

You have to be a little patient with her. There's so much going on in her mind from all those years she's been alive and has only been able to confide in Miko, and she knows you've learnt about it through the others. You wait for her to calm down, and sometimes, even tell her to take deep breaths before continuing.

Once she's calm though, she'll get right to business, thinking about a way to keep you safe, and cared for, while ensuring that the rest of Inazuma is aware of your descent. After all, what better way to revitalize her region than showing her the truth in their beliefs?

"You... Are alright with these arrangements, correct? Very well, then it's settled. Once again, welcome to Inazuma, the land that has never once forgotten you... I'm glad you show such enthusiasm, and frankly, I think I am just as excited."

Kirara probably caught sight of you as she was stretching herself before another delivery. She's quite busy, so it's easier for her to focus on others once off the clock. Once she sees you though, she can't help but be a little cautious, yet curious.

In all of the regions she's visited for deliveries, she's never seen clothing like yours... Soon enough, she's slowly creeping up on you, eager to see who exactly you were! Her steps are quite silent, so it isn't exactly hard to do so.

Much like Ei, she starts talking to you as if you were just a foreigner, but just like Miko, she starts asking a lot of questions! Hers are more casual than the kitsune's however, with an excited pep to her voice.

When you show her the golden drops of blood, at first she's confused, and doesn't make the immediate connection to the rumors of the creator, thanks to them being only present in Inazuma, and her not spending much time there thanks to work.

Once she does however, she lets out the loudest gasp you've heard ever, and her eyes sparkle intensely! Her questions immediately double in speed and amount, and you have to calm her down, which can be a little complicated once she gets into another tangent.

Once she stops, she realizes that since you're from another realm, you must not have a home in Inazuma! So she decides to take you back to her home for the time being, so you may feel free to leave anytime!

"Ah, I wasn't really expecting any guests anytime soon, but you can have the spare room! Now, I won't be here much, but I promise I'll try to take less orders for now!... Unless you want me to take a vacation for you?"

[writing-havoc]

HII! HOW ARE YOU? Okay so i have a kaz brekker x reader request but it's kinda meh but i just can't stop thinking about it. And it's kinda similar to your fic 'high' (my favorite piece of media EVER)

So fem!reader (or gn whichever is easier for you<3) drunk and makes fun of the way kaz talks and his hair and the way how he's really bossy. (I would so call him emo king) and he's just trying to get her to take a bath (be a fish) and rest.

Please please don't feel pressured you can just ignore this. Don't forget to drink water. Have a nice day or night love youu<3

Loverboy

♡ Summary: Kaz comes and fetches you after you have a bit too much to drink. Getting you to bathe and rest for the night is a little more difficult than he remembers.

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Alcohol, Nudity (not smut)

♡ WC: 3.5k

Hello hello!!! Thank you for your request <3 I'm doing pretty alright thank you for asking. I hope you're doing okay!

I loved being prompted to expand on this and experiment with how it would go. To be honest that's also one of my fav pieces of work that I've done, and I'm glad someone else holds the same joy for it that I do!

Anyway, here it is!! Hope you enjoy it anon, ly <3

Please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

"Oh for Ghezen's sake just put one foot in front of the other." Kaz nipped, pushing just a bit harder on your back.

Your head was lolling back and to the side, unwillingly looking at the stars. Yet your eyes remain half closed, barely a fraction of your pupil visible in the moonlight. A smile is painted on your face the whole time, lips chapped and cracked from dehydration. "'M tryin' Kaz. But my head is just, so heavy and the stars 're so pretty."

"I know I know- hold on to the cane- the cane!"

He shouldn't have let you have those last few drinks, but unfortunately you batted your little lashes and made the same little promises you do after enough time has passed for his memories to become just a little bit muddled and forget how far from the truth your promises are.

You'll say you'll be fine. You'll say you'll get home safe. You'll say you'll see him soon.

But you can't really fulfill any of those. So he at least has the foresight to stay with you, or to have someone else stay with you and come get him when you down more than your promised two or three.

And he makes a big deal out of it, saying all these things and talking like he's annoyed with you, but really?

He's not.

Not as much as he thinks he should be anyway. If he had heard anybody else complaining as much as he does in his own head he'd stuff his own glove in their mouth and tell them to deal with their inadequate relationship elsewhere.

But it's him, and it's you, and it's different.

You're not like them. You're not violent or a verbal tyrant or negligent.

"Did I ever tell you..." You start, then chuckle to yourself when you straighten up and sway around. "Did I ever tell you that kin'a remind me of a cat with your hair slicked back like that?"

You're,,, silly. And he feels silly saying that but you are. It's the perfect word to describe you when you get like this. Light jabs at the things you like about him, your feet walking to a rhythm in your head that makes you stop and go and speed and slow at random, laughing at the most mundane things.

"I don't believe you have, no." You definitely have. But he allows you to repeat it.

The Slat is wonderfully empty as he opens the door. Only a few people occupy the tables off to the side, but they're just as drunk as you are, and he doubts they can see this far from their drooling.

"Come on." He leads you over to the stairs. "Up we go."

You lean on the rail, shaking your head, smile gone. "Mh-mhn. I can't." You continue to shake your head, eyes closed. "Your leg is bad."

Silly.

"Good observation. Your legs, however, are fine, if a bit wobbly. Up you come." He tries again to coax you up, to no avail. You lean on the rail more, even pushing into it.

He forgot how much you resemble an ox when it comes to getting you to do something. It's like you contain this ability to just plant yourself anywhere and stick no matter the force that's pulling or pushing you.

"Your leg is bad. I can't go up."

"My bad leg does not effect your ability to walk up the stairs." He says as gentle as possible.

"But it does."

He sighs. "Could you explain to me why that is?"

Your bottom lip pushes out just barely, eyes opening and looking at him through your lashes. It's a look that would have any man in Kerch on their knees, he's sure of it. "Need your help."

His heart sunk. "Just grab the railing and my cane, dove. I'll take my good leg up first."

You analyzed the stairs, scrutinizing them. "Promise?"

"You know I don't make-"

"Promise?" A hint of anger bubbled in your tone, the same firmness in your eyes when you snapped your head to look at him.

He takes a deep breath. "I promise."

And just like that you were ready to ascend the stairs. You grabbed the railing, clumsily reaching out for his cane which he gave readily.

Even in your drunken state, you knew exactly which stairs creaked and which ones were just this side of broken. You skipped a stair, glaring at it as Kaz ascended with his good leg first, then continued with your usual lax expression.

He tried to step with his bad leg, but you immediately backtracked and held his cane firmly, holding him back as well. "You promised." You bit out.

"I did." He switched back, good leg going up, slowly edging you along. "It just slipped my mind."

"Nothin' slips your mind." You pouted, begrudgingly ascending when the cane went too far to hold close.

"Important things," he corrected. "Important things don't slip my mind."

You yanked on the cane, making him look at you. "You're important."

And he... doesn't know what to do with that.

Of course in whatever realm you were occupying he'd be important. He's important for a lot of things. His businesses, his club, whatever constitutes as leader of the crows.

It's not that he thinks he's not important. He just forgets to take into account that with you, he's important in the little things too.

Pointing him where to massage on his leg when it's giving him trouble, bringing him fresh tea when he tries to drink the day old stuff pushed to the corner of his desk, at least reminding him to sleep when the clock reaches two bells in the dark hours.

And right now, when you force him to take the pressure off his poorly healed shin.

"You're right." He confirms, helping you to the top of the stairs. "I am. Now come on."

When he began to lead you to his room, you groaned and stood in place. "Noo. I don' wanna fish."

His mouth struggled to stay in a line, corners quirking up. "You have to fish. You're sweaty and you smell like alcohol."

"I's a good smell."

"You gag in the morning when you smell it."

"Hogwash, you walking shadow."

He tugged you along, walking ahead of you and up the stairs to the attic. His help wasn't much needed here with how narrow and more secure the steps were, but you needed the extra hand to coax you up and towards your inevitable bath.

His office was dark, the only thing preventing the room from being cast in complete darkness was the street lights outside pushes a faint yellow glow through the window.

A lantern was stored in a bookcase next to the door for this reason. He clipped his cane onto his belt and hooked a finger under the handle, giving you little assurances that he wasn't going to let you fall while he navigated the room he knew by heart.

He parked you by his makeshift desk, guiding your hands to the desktop for some leverage while he rustled through a cabinet for the matches.

Immediately you were enthralled with the fire. Nina thinks you were an Inferni in your past life, and he finds the idea hard to not believe as he watches your once droopy eyes widen and follow the ball of fire in his hand as it lights the lantern.

He closes the shade, putting out the match and watching you smile as the whole room lights up.

"So bright." You whisper, as if it's your first time seeing fire.

He shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the back of his chair. "Very. Don't touch it."

You pout, taking your hand away. "I don't know what you're referring to."

He takes the lantern from where it rests on the desk, unhooking his cane and walking to the bathroom. "Come take your bath."

"'Come take your bath'." You mock him. "You're a bossy bossy man, you know that?"

He can't see you as he hangs the lantern on a hook, but he knows your hands are on your hips and your head cocked to the side. You always became so sassy when the initial fuzziness seems to wear off.

"It's what im paid for." He calls, swirling the basin of water he had filled up before he left. It was only expected that you should get a bath tonight, and he didn't want to wake anybody now of all times to come and fill it up.

"Youre not getting paid right now."

He didn't have any soap. He used up all of his last time and you usually keep yours tucked in your room, eager to hide its existence from greedy hands.

Just water will have to do, since he doesn't trust you to not fall asleep in the time it will take to go to your room and retrieve yours from your spare set of shoes.

He exits the bathroom, coming face to face with you. "I should be with how I'm ordering you around right now."

He waves you over, and it seems at this point you're becoming too tired to really fight back. You shrug off your outer layers, leaving them in a pile on the floor that you attempt to kick to the side. It's seems you think that you did away with them well enough, but really you just kind of spread them around.

That will have to come later, he thinks, and then puts a hand on your bare shoulder as you take off your shirt, throwing it over the side of the basin. Your pants come off and are thrown at its base, shoes somehow already off in the time span it took to check the tub and come retrieve you, socks following.

"You can keep your undergarments on if you'd like." He says, resting his cane against the wall.

"Oh don't get shy on me now, Kaz. You've seen me naked at least a dozen times." You look back at him, a shit eating smirk on your face.

He's thankful for the warm lantern light to obscure the warmth creeping up his neck and nipping at his ears. "Only because we end up in situations like these. It's more efficient to just get you clean now than have you complain in the morning and almost throw up in the tub."

You moan, the sound throaty and like gravel. "I don't wanna be a fish."

"You dont have to be one for long. Just a few minutes until you're clean."

"Can' be clean if there's no soap."

"We can at least get most of the grime off. Come on, one leg over the other."

Slowly, you climb into the tub, Kaz helping you get in with minimal sloshing.

And now comes the hard part.

His gloves are made of leather. He can't dunk and soak them in the water and expect them to be fine later.

They come off quicker than last time, but just as shakey. He puts on two pairs of cloth ones he's kept in here since the third time this happened, when it became apparent that this would happen again and several more times after.

Once they're on he flexes his hand, feeling the cold unforgiving waves slosh at his knees and lick up his thighs.

It's not the same. It's a bath. It's you.

"Can you get your body?" He asks, though. Because as much as he'd like to be of some help here he can't help but need to touch you the least amount as possible.

You think it over, stretching out as much as the tub allows before nodding. "M'yeah, I can do it."

He hands you a rag, watching it sink under the water and become several shades darker.

He turns around and allows you to do your thing, but knows your routine from when you, Nina, and Jesper had a heated debate about which order to wash your body in.

You'll wash your neck and chest first, digging into your collars bones and over your shoulders, then do you arms, followed by your torso and around your back. Then you'll scrub at your legs, moving to your face, then your waist, then your feet.

It'll take about ten minutes to go over every part, scrubbing in places you think have the most grime, and all the while having your shampoo already scrubbed into your hair so that you can rinse everything out all at once.

But you're tired and drunk, and he doesn't know how far you'll make it down your list until you eventually get frustrated or too exhausted or both.

He listens to the water in the tub move as your scrub yourself beneath its surface. A throaty hum emanates from your throat, a tune oddly familiar to the song that plays in the club filling the room.

Every once in a while you'll sigh, the water halting. He'll lean back and ask if you're alright, and you'll hum and get right back to scrubbing.

It's fifteen minutes before you say anything.

"You alright t' do my hair?"

His stomach churns, acid bubbling at its entrance.

"Ill be fine."

He turns, gesturing with his finger for you to lean your head into the water.

There's a pause before he reaches into the cold depths, wondering if he actually /will/ be fine.

When you look at him, eyes rimmed in red and glassy, he scrounges up whatever stability and modicum of the word "cope" he has and dunks them in.

Immediately he finds your hair, burying his fingers between the strands and finding your scalp.

It's hard to feel anything besides temperature with these gloves, and your head is practically burning against the cool water.

You're definitely cold. He can tell by your flushed cheeks and the way you curl your arms around your waist, goosebumps littering your arms. Yet you remain warm under his touch.

He watches the little hairs on your arm wave in the bath current as he scrubs, almost hypnotizing in their back and forth movement as you move to let them rest against your thighs.

But it's not enough.

He's scrubbing your hair, trying so hard to just focus on the grime under his fingers as his hands make the cold water slosh. The feeling is oddly familiar to the waves coating his hands as they dunk half under as he clings to blue flesh.

But you look at him, and your giggle is like little bells that keep him above water, just for the moment.

"You know what you look like?" You ask. "You look like- oh, what's that new style they got goin' on?"

He has no idea what you're talking about. Fashion trends are far beneath his radar unless necessary for a job.

You snap your fingers, pointing up at him. "Emo!"

That makes his eyebrows raise. Because he is familiar with Emo, because a bunch of kids called him that when they were out much past their bedtime. They found it necessary to shout it at him while he was passing by, laughing as they ran into an alleyway.

"I don't think that's accurate." He manages to get out, dunking your head a little further to cover your ears and get the wisps of hair in front of them.

"It's sooo accurate." You draw out your o's, blinking slowly and out of sync. "Emo king."

He sighs. "Whatever you say, little fish."

You pout, moving away from him and turning belly down, chin dipping into the water. "I thought I was your dove."

Again, thankful for that warm light. It makes his stomach feel all twisty the way you say "your". For just a moment, he let's himself smile, really smile, and puts his chin on his hands. "You are. But right now, you're a fish."

You huff, turning back and putting your head within reach. "Okay, mister emo cat."

He sighs, beginning to scrub at the parts of your scalp that he already got but feels he needs to do another once over for. "I am neither emo nor a cat."

"Tell that to your hair, loverboy."

Loverboy.

He scoffs, taking his hands from your hair. "Your hair's done. Get out so you can dry off."

You laugh at your accomplishment, sitting up and scrunching your hair as he discards his wet gloves on a towel rack and dries himself off.

Honestly, loverboy? He's not some lovesick puppy. Loverboy applies to those who are unfathomably whipped, wrapped around their partners finger and touching at all times. It has no place being in the same sentence that his likeness occupies except to say that he is not a 'loverboy'.

He hands you a towel as you get out of the tub, heading to his closet to fetch you some of his clothes.

"An old one, please?" You yell out to him.

"I know." He calls back.

If he can help it he replaces his button ups every few months. But you like the ones that are just around that area of wear and tear. In your words, they "ain't tight and smell like him. Win win."

He doesn't bother with pants, but grabs a pair of his underwear for you to change into instead that he knows you'll find more comfortable.

As he limps back to the bathroom, he halts as he analyzes his thoughts and actions.

Fuck. Maybe he /does/ deserve the name Loverboy.

The realization almost makes him groan and sit down on the floor right then and there.

Can't he just carve his heart out? Isn't that what the poets and song writers do?

Alas, he is neither a poet nor a musician. So he will instead take the long way out, and bring you his clothes and get you into into his bed before the third bell chimes.

He hands you the clothes, watching your face light up for a moment before he exits to his office to clean up the mess you made.

The beak of his cane hooks under your coat, dragging it up and into his hand which he then throws onto the chair. You hate getting it off the coat rack, half the time pulling it with you when you take your coat back. So he sets it here for now, and takes your shoulder bag and shoes and organizes them around the chair just as you usually do.

"I think I found my new look."

He turns around, seeing you trying to pose against the wall. It's supposed to be sultry and sexy, but it definitely does not read that way with your soaked hair, stiff back, and uncooperative limbs.

"If you think so." He nearly chuckles, taking his gloves from your hands and slipping them onto his own, and then retrieves the lantern from the bathroom. "Come to bed."

Thankfully, you seem to love the idea of the bed. It doesn't take much to lead you to the little nook he calls his bedroom. He hooks the lantern to the wall as your body slumps onto his partially eaten sheets.

"Mmm." You hum, smile hidden under your squashed cheek. "Warm."

"Doubtful." He jabs, unfolding a blanket at the foot of the bed and draping it over you.

"It really is. Should try it sometime." You poke at the space beneath your eye, tongue sticking out.

He assumes you're referencing the eye bags that have taken permanent residence on his face, to which he rolls his eyes and hikes up the blanket to cover your back. You hate the cold creeping in.

If you wake up cold in the morning, you will be cold for the rest of the day. And unfortunately for you, you have a job in about six hours.

The less you have to complain about, the better.

"Ill try it later." He promises. "For now, you need it more."

You mumble something, but with the way your eyes are drooping he figures you're not even aware you said anything at all.

As you doze off, he half sits on his nightstand, and watches your breathing begin to slow and even out. It's loud at first, but eventually you grow quieter and quieter, muscles relaxing as you sink into his hard mattress.

Your hair is thrown about everywhere, still wet from your bath, and you'll need Nina to remove a kink in your shoulder in the morning. But for now, you're calm, and safe, and that's enough.

He takes a deep breath, just the same as you do, and then sighs.

"Goodnight, little fish." He mumbles, and then stands, off to collect the ingredients for a hangover tonic and catch up on paperwork.

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Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hii!

I just came across your empress work with kylo ren and i absolutely loved it.

But i was wondering...

Could you maybe write something like that but with kylo marring a jedi reader to restore balance and peace to the galaxy?

Say That Again

"-- say it," Kylo mutters. His voice becomes shaky, "I want to hear you say it."

Kylo Ren x Jedi!Reader | 1k+ | cw: gender neutra!reader, implied kidnapping, violence/mentions of injury, lovers to enemies, pining, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: this req is remix of this anon's and @copiasratsstuff request where basically YN refers to Kylo with his first name and it makes him snap. also T_T i had to send myself this anon ask because i accidentally posted this WITHOUT ANYTHING on the post LMAO. i hope you enjoy it my loves <3 <3 <3 tbh I think this turned out better than what I had in mind slayyyyed

My heart pounds as I run down the halls. My hands were tingling and moistened with agitation. I huff when I catch sight of the space craft.

I swipe an arm and, using my Force, a pair of stormtroopers crash to the side, clearing my passage.

The footsteps thundering towards me grows louder when I get to the ship and pry the door open with my Force. Just as I'm about to get into the vehicle, a scorching blow hits my leg, then my shoulder. A loud cry leaves my lips before I can even think.

Similarly, I hear painful screaming from afar. "Didn't I say to hold your fire?!"

My panic heightens at the echo of that voice. Through the excruciating pain, I tell myself to push forward. This was it, after all, this was the opening to the freedom I was waiting for.

But the next thing I knew, a dark Force overcame me, and I didn't have enough strength to break free of it.

I thud into the arms of my captor, and whine in pain. I clench my jaw and slowly lift my eyes, glaring at him.

My expression is vaguely reflected on the Supreme Leader's black mask. He sighs before speaking, "you reap what you sow."

I growl and hiss, "and soon will you."

He carries me in his arms, all the way back to my prison cell. He sets me down on his bed l, and as he takes off his helmet, I fling him back with Force, making him lose his balance.

The man doesn't topple though. What only happens is his dark hair falls onto his face. He tilts his head, "childish."

I scoff, "I'm glad you're self-aware."

The Sith Lord says nothing in response. He walks off, props his helmet on his cabinet, and opens a drawer. He walks over to me with bandages and ointment.

I raise a brow as he sits on my side, "you're not going to heal me?"

"The pain will be good for you," he replies, grabbing my injured leg with little regard.

I whine and shift to lessen my discomfort. He begins to lather ointment on my laser gash.

As he does this in silence, and as I behold his profile, his nose, his lips, his lashes, I see flashes of the past from his face. I see a memory of when we were younger, both still under the guidance of our master, Luke. I see his sweet smile, hear his soft laugh, feel his tender kiss... my Ben.

Of course, we were young fools in love. Deep down, we knew we could never be; attachments were dangerous. And yet he promised me himself and I promised him myself, and somehow he believes that was the same as us being married.

That was why he captured me. That was why he was binding my wounds. That was why he was unwilling to let me go. According to him, I was the balance the galaxy craved, I was the balance he long yearned for.

"We are married," he says, a-matter-of-factly.

My face sours, "get out of my head."

"Even if you did, even if you managed to run," he turns to me, one hand gripping my knee, "you think I would just let you go?"

We stare at each other for a while.

"After all I've done to have you?" he narrows his eyes.

"You wouldn't be able to find me," I lean in as I retort.

He leans closer, "and yet you would eventually surrender because your heart is weak."

I whine when he pulls the bandage around me tighter than necessary.

"Your soft heart would not bear the destruction I'd exact on the stars to find you," he ties the bandage and turns back to me. He scoffs under his breath, "you and your empathy."

The last of what remained of Ben Solo stared at me. Perhaps I was the only one delusional enough to see it. He was barely there in face, and in soul, I fear he may be lost forever.

I turn away.

He releases my leg and grabs my arm, "take your top off."

I decide not to put up a fight, there was no point. I take my burnt top off so he could wrap the injury on my shoulder blade.

He moves me so my back is turned to him. He stares at my wound for a prolonged moment. I am tempted to look back at him when I realize he felt pity for me.

"You shouldn't have run."

I don't look back, "you shouldn't have chased after-" I hiss when he applies ointment on my burn.

"You shouldn't have run," he repeats, harder this time.

"Kylo, please-"

"What?"

I look over my shoulder.

"What did you just call me?"

His expression is that of shock and excitement. I quickly correct myself, "Ben. Your name is B-"

"That's not my name," he raises a finger, "that's not what you said-"

"That's what I mea-"

"Say that again, say it," Kylo mutters. His voice becomes shaky, "I want to hear you say it."

I clench my jaw and shake my head. "Your name is Ben Solo."

He releases a deep breath.

I grab his cheeks. It was the first time I had ever willingly touched him, and so tenderly at that, "that is your name. That is who you--"

"Ben is dead," Kylo grabs my wrists, yanking me away from him.

My heart races when I feel the hot air from his lungs.

"I am all that's left," he whispers, brows furrowing. His voice is shaky again, "Ben was weak. He could not even speak his love for you out loud," he shakes his head, "not me. I would make sure the whole galaxy knows my love for you."

I gasp when he grabs my face and kisses me. I immediately shove him away, and when I do, this man with wide, glassy eyes stares back at me.

For once, his face evokes something more than anger out of me. I see his desperation and it pinches my heart.

"Ben-"

"That's not my name," he blurts, snapping out of his trance and jumping to his feet. His moment of vulnerability was over. Staring down at me now was no one else besides the Supreme Leader of the First Order. He wipes his face and blankness falls on his features.

I mean to call his name out again but he speaks before I can.

"I will have a medic attend to your wounds," he says flatly, "don't think to flee while I'm gone."

I watch him walk out of the door.

[kairiscorner]

HELLOOO 👋👋

can you do where Miles kisses reader but reader doesn't kiss back to tease him... when Miles pulled back and reader wipes her lips..

+i really love your one shots,, they got me giggling and sht 🤭

HI ANON 🫶🫶🫶 okay, so i'm not entirely sure if i did this one right, I HOPE I DID....... also i saw your other message, AND DW ABOUT IT, IT'S OKAYYYY we all make mistakes <:DD you're welcome here any time :3

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

just one kiss, that's all

"whaddya think, that was pretty good, no?" he asked you with a cheeky grin on his face as his mask was pulled upwards just a little bit. you weren't impressed in the slightest, or at least, that's how you wanted it to seem. you shrugged. "it was okay, morales." you said as he paced around the ceiling for a little, chuckling to himself at your apathetic response. "it's like you weren't even there and don't believe me! i'm telling you, that crook was getting nowhere near my lover." he said as he sauntered over to you as you sat down on your bed, looking up at him and raising an eyebrow, pouting your lips and keeping your arms crossed over your chest. "i can handle myself just fine, morales. you gotta worry about yourself." you said as he looked into your eyes lovingly with a lopsided grin on his face, because he knew you agreed to this little bet you two made, and miles doesn't forget rewards from his hard work so easily.

miles placed a hand on your cheek and smirked to himself as you gave no reaction, you were completely and utterly giving him silent and poker face treatment. "what's mi corazon doing now, hmm? you know, you're super cute when you smile and chuckle at my stupid stunts sometimes... but you pouting to them is much cuter." he teased you, to which you fake groaned at. "whatever, it isn't worth you getting scuffed up. even if you're spider man, you're still a boy." "correction, a man." he joked as he smiled wider at you. "the day you'll be a man is the day you get kisses from me without having to save me after i call for you." you said with a smirk up at him to match his confidence at that moment.

miles laughed a little as he neared your face. "now, come on, can't we get on with it, babe? i love you a whole lot, that's why i saved you. not just to... to feel your lips on mine, y'know..." he said as he ran a hand through your hair and got a little flustered in the face, and so did you, and you couldn't shake it off. "no. you put yourself in danger, you weren't in your suit when you saved me–" "but i saved you nonetheless, didn't i, mi amor?" he asked you with an eyebrow raise. "our bet was that you'd kiss me the minute i saved you, and it was in a minute. no rules were stated that i had to be in the suit." he said, and he had a point, but you turned away from him with an unwavering poker face. "still, i can't reward risky behavior; not even for you, morales." you said with a stern tome in your voice.

"you promised... come on, please don't leave your friendly neighborhood spider man all alone with unkissed lips..." miles whined, to which you took in a deep breath. you sighed, and looked at him, who was looking at you desperately for that reward of his that he so badly deserved. you caved, he was too cute for you to say no to.

"...fine." you said, finally giving in, as miles gasped in delight. "yes!" he exclaimed to himself softly. "okay, i promise i won't chicken out this time." he said as he cupped your face, and slowly... he kissed you, his lips were soft against yours. you held back all your urges to kiss him back, though, because even if you let him kiss you, you weren't going to fully reward him for his recklessness for a mere kiss.

as miles pulled away, he looked at you expectantly in your eyes for something, anything--any indication that you reciprocated his love, his emotions towards you. he smiled awkwardly, "love?" he called out for you. "come on now, don't be like that..." trying to fluster you, trying to flirt with you, to get you embarrassed for him, but all he was greeted with was your stoic expression, your unchanging, stoic expression.

the worst part was when you wiped his kiss off your lips, with him witnessing you doing so. you folded your arms in front of your chest again. "what?" you asked him in a slightly irritated voice when he didn't say anything after you did that. you turned to look at him, and he was on the verge of sobbing. "mi cielo... babe, what'd i do wrong? i just... i'd always save you, if this whole thing is about that, y'know... i'm sorry..." he said in a soft voice as he placed his hands on either sides of your face, his eyes going wider, sadder, and filling with tears knowing you didn't want to kiss him back. you sighed, and soon, you cracked a small smile. "i'm sorry, miles." you finally said as you placed your hands on his face now. "i can't reward stupid behavior, you know that." "but it wasn't stupid, you were in trouble. with or without the suit, as spider man or as miles morales, i'll always save you."

and that... that made you realize. that made you realize miles didn't care about the bet, about getting a kiss from you or showing off--he really wanted to save you that day because he knew you were in trouble, even if it jeopardized him and his identity as spider man. "really?" you asked him as you ran a thumb over his cheek. "really." he said, and soon, you pulled him in close to give him what he's needed all this time--the feeling of your lips against his. since miles wasn't the best teaser in the world and was easy to give in when it came to you, you felt him kiss you back, and it was an adoring, sweet sensation--the feeling of his soft lips against yours was enough to tell you that he genuinely loved you, more than any other boy had before towards you.

as he pulled away, he looked back at you, his face flustered so badly--and he smiled widely again. though his eyes looked glassy because of how he was almost about to cry at your teasing because he thought you didn't love him anymore, his anxiety was replaced with long overdue relief. "i love you, miles." you told him as he kissed your forehead. "and i love you, so... so much." he replied as he rested his forehead against yours, just feeling you near him, loving how near you are--how you're within reach of him, how he can just love you and it'd all be so right to both of you, despite the stunts he does to protect you;

because he loves you.

tags !! @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @fictarian @zalayni @q2ie

[cosmerelists]

If Cosmere Characters Had Brands Sponsoring Them...

As requested by anon. :)

Let's imagine a world--a perhaps terrible world--in which Cosmere characters have brand sponsorships. If it gives you chills, please blame the anon who requested it. ;)

1. Adolin

Shallan: Wow, looking sharp! Shallan: Is that a new outfit? Adolin: Yup! Armani sent me a whole bunch of suits. Adolin: Apparently that's all I'm gonna wear from now on! Shallan: That sounds a a bit dystopic but also you look REALLY good. Adolin: Ha ha yeah let's think about it no further!

2. Steris & Wax

Steris: Wax, thank goodness you're here. Wax: Whoa! Did you start on taxes without me? Steris: I promised HR Block I'd use their services so that they can promote themselves as the brand that "even Steris Harms trusts." Steris: But obviously we need to check their work. Wax: Yes--obviously. Wax: And after that, let's pour ourselves some glasses of Jack Daniel Whiskey--Make it Count. Steris: ... Wax: ... Steris: Why did we agree to this again?

3. Amaram

[Amaram offers Wit his hand] Wit: No thanks, I wouldn't want to get any of it on me. Amaram: Any of what? Wit: Whatever you use to keep your hands clean, my lord. It must be powerful stuff, indeed. Amaram: Seventy percent of pigs have cleaner hands than forty percent of humans, you knw. Wit: I...what? Amaram: And that little fact is brought to you...by Meta AI.

4. Tress

Tress: (muttering to herself): Well...we do like to go places... Charlie: Hey do you need some help with...whatever you're dong? Tress: Yes please! I'm trying to stick these posters all over Two Cups. Charlie: What's a Toyota? Tress: Not totally sure...but they are offering a lot of money...do you think it's okay? Charlie: Well...we do like to go places... Tress: That's exactly what I said!

5. Nightblood

Nightblood: Pleeeeaase....? Szeth: I will not plaster stickers all over you, sword-nimi. Nightblood: But the Google asked me to! Nightblood: And their motto is "Don't Be Evil"! Nightblood: It's perfect! Szeth: Actually, I believe they changed their slogan a while back. Nightblood: You mean they're...evil after all? Nightblood: New plan! Let's kill them all! Szeth: I don't think brand sponorships are for you, sword-nimi.

6. Vin

Vin: When I need to go fast... When I need to leap from roof to roof... When I need to murder entire keeps... Vin: There's no shoe I trust, other than Nike. Vin: Nike: Just Do It. Vin: ... Vin: Well, what do you think? I'm supposed to pitch an angle for the commercial tomorrow! Elend: I feel like the brand probably doesn't want you to mention murder. Vin: What? Then why'd they ask me?

7. Yumi

Yumi: Ha ha! Yumi: Wow, it's so easy to stack when you're using legos! Yumi: Relaxing...fun...colorful... Yumi: This was DEFINITELY the right brand to partner with! Painter: Yumi, the neighbors are starting to complain. Yumi: What? Why?? Painter: You're fourteen-story lego tower is blocking out the sun! Children are crying! I just heard someone whisper that the nightmares must be back! Yumi: I thought it'd be inspiring!

8. Kelsier

Kelsier: I have a secret... Kelsier: Secret brand deodorant!!! Kelsier: ... Kelsier: ...Are you SURE we need the money to fund the ghostbloods? Kaise (barely keeping a straight face): Oh, absolutely.

9. Moash

Moash: I think it is time to cover up my Bridge 4 tattoo. Odium: That's a great step forward--I'm proud of you. Moash: Yup, gonna replace it with this Grey Goose Vodka tattoo instead. Odium: ... Moash: What? Drinking helps a man forget...stuff. Moash: It's thematic for my character! Odium: You have a ways to go.

10. Kaladin

Dalinar: What has happened to us? Where is our honor? Kaladin: Honor is dead...But I'll see what I can do. [Kaladin hesitates and looks back at Dalinar] Kaladin: That cool one-liner is brought to you...by Redbull. Kaladin: Redbull gives you wings. Dalinar: ... Kaladin: ... Dalinar: ... Kaladin: Anyway I'll go save your sons now.

[purple-obsidian]

Thank you for answering my last ask, can I have your take on if the girl in ur last fic hadve gotten just a TOUCH more frightened after the knife incident and started openly weeping when jason started touching her (i feel like she was already on the brink) would he keep going? I don't think that would feel consensual to her, especially after the knife thing. It already feels like she's ½way a prisoner, given the fact that he just goes and re-abducts her when she tries to leave. Does he already understand that what he's doing is very dubiously consensual, and he's going ahead anyways bc he dgaf, or if she were to point out that Jason's got the threat of violence constantly hanging over her head and that she can't safely deny him without jeopardizing all her bones and her mental welfare then it would bring him up short? It really seems like Jason understands she doesn't really want him physically (at least not in the way he'll have her) and he's just gonna plow on ahead bc she did not specifically say no. “Will you get mad at me if I say no?” I think he would. I think he understands shes afraid already.

[fic referenced]

you're welcome, anon!

if reader had been more outwardly emotional and made it very clear to him that she didn't want him touching her, he would have stopped. i am not saying that jason's behavior is right or correct in any way (this is dark fiction, remember) but if reader would have told him to stop or pushed him away, he most likely would have gone to the couch or just turned over and internalize the rejection, giving reader the silent treatment.

to answer the next part, does jason know that what he is doing isn't exactly consensual or right? its complicated. i want to give a quick disclaimer and say that the reasoning i'm about to explain is not any sort of justification for similar behavior irl, this is just what is going on in the mind of a very traumatized, very broken fictional character with a devastating backstory.

the first few weeks reader was living with jason, he probably would have let her leave if she said she wanted to. if she disappeared? he would have gone looking for her, absolutely. and also be pissed that she didn't tell him where she was going, and that she went out on her own. in my little au, joker planted doubts about jason and reader's relationship in his mind just like he manipulated jason's feelings towards bruce and the others. so upon their initial reunion, jason was skeptical and angry, and was kind of expecting her to leave. but after weeks of constant reassurance and promises, he finally started to believe reader, even though his insecurities remain. once he started putting the smallest bit of trust and faith in reader, that's the point where he would not allow reader to leave. even if she wanted to, jason has it in his head that she promised to be by his side no matter what, and he would cling to that and use it to guilt her and justify him keeping her, potentially, against her will. [he wouldn't force himself on her physically, but he would for sure keep her from leaving.]

homeboy is in the middle of trying to de-program all the shit joker put in his head, he is constantly second-guessing his relationships and the people around him, and his relationship with reader is the only steady presence he is allowing himself to trust. so if she decided to go, at this point, he would fight tooth and nail to keep her. he would most likely be in denial, and cling on even tighter.

he can see that reader is scared, but he is so scared himself that it's hard for him to focus on anything else. the physical and psychological torture he went through has, in my mind, left him so broken when it comes to bonds and relationships that some of his logic is just not there anymore. i imagine this makes it even harder for reader, too, seeing him work on establishing himself in gotham's underworld and being so cunning and sharp when it comes to executing his plans, but being so sensitive and snapping at her and his men if the wrong thing is said.

joker taught him that fear is the ultimate tool for control. jason may deny it, but he's taken those lessons to heart, whether he realizes it or not.

appreciate your thoughts, sorry this took a while to answer.

xoxo sid