#and there really wasn’t anything they could do about the other Diamonds

[running-with-kn1ves]

Satin Pillows To Cry On

CW: coercion with money, age gap(7 yrs), transactional marriage, obsessive/yandere behavior

gn! reader

﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀

You’ve got nothing else, no one else to rely on. 

‘You’re something he bought to keep from growing old.” 

Your clothes are worth small countries. Your cars stacked in 3-level garages. Diamonds, emeralds, pearls hanging from your wrists and ears, satchels made of endangered animal skins, different shoes for each day of the year. 

Your boyfriend of three years spat at your feet when you told him what you were doing. 

“His money can’t love you, not like I can.”

The wedding was only two months away when you broke up with him, told him you couldn’t live in his broke-down apartment anymore, that you couldn’t live with debt trailing wherever you went. You went so far as to make him hate you, to tell him that you never wanted to see him again, that you never loved him, that he better not bother showing up to the wedding. You didn’t want him there, you never wanted to see him again. 

“You’re lying to me; he’s making you say these things, he’s using you against me! You’ve known him what-- two seconds, and you’re going to marry this man?! He’s nearly a decade older than you!” 

Seven years of an age gap or not, he was still a thousand times more independent, wealthy, and a safer choice than your boyfriend. You weren’t some fresh college student new to the world, you had graduated over two years ago, still finding no luck in getting a stable income-- forget about whether or not it was in the field of your degree. 

You left in a single day, fitting all of your scavanged belongings into one of your fiance’s awaiting cars. You left anything worth of value with your ex-boyfriend, knowing he’d find more use out of it than you would. You would even leave the rest of your things there if he could find use for them, but you knew they’d just be one more painful reminder of your betrayal. 

He did as you said, not showing up to your wedding, staying clear, never appearing in your line of sight since the day you left. It made it easier…. For both of you that way. 

And now you were happy-- well, maybe not happy, maybe not even content, but you were… safe. You had everything you needed: a working car, a stable job that you felt productive in, a clean and comforting house to come home to, a spouse. Sure, maybe you didn’t get your new job yourself, or your house or your car-- but did that really matter, in this economy? Who wouldn’t trade their life and their independence for this kind of wealth?

And your husband… he wasn’t all bad. He might have only wanted you for the sake of having you at first, like a new jewel or the latest technological invention. But he was doting and caring in his own way. Maybe just a tiny bit too invested in you, in your schedule and who you talked to. A little too hateful towards your ex-boyfriend, the one who had you before he could. But everyone had character flaws, and on good days you could distract him from his grumpy mood and stress and obsessive behaviors by being the loving and oh so perfect spouse you had trained yourself to be ever since he asked to marry you. 

“Colder than all that gold…” You repeated in your mind, the words your family whispered to each other at your wedding reception only a few feet away from you. 

That was over six months now, though… the honeymoon phase never existed, you rarely saw your husband except for his midnight appearances back from the office, and whenever he would whisk you away for a weekend vacation to savor the time he had with you. For someone more sophisticated, much wealthier, and dare you say handsomer than the average man-- you were surprised to find he didn’t have a line of divorces behind him. 

No; he said, he had been “waiting for you.” whether  you or he knew it, he understood right from the moment of meeting you that you were the one he’d have for the rest of his life, even if it killed him. That severity… scared you. But in a sick sense, it made you feel relieved. Forever? This could be yours, forever? Your family would never have to struggle again, you would never have to worry where your next meal came from?

“I cleared your schedule until tuesday; we’re going to the isles. A mini vacation, you might call it. Get your things.”

He was cold, that was for sure. But, was he any worse than your ex-boyfriend, especially when he was offering you an expensive experience on top of that?

“All right..” You acquiesced. 

And now, you lied sunken into the bed feeling his loving, hot breath on your navel. Going so sweetly slow, so oddly and uncharacteristingly lingering with his touches as he gazes into your eyes. You didn’t like this; didn’t like that when he was cherishing you, making love to you, holding you so intimately, he was appearing… like a husband should. Where did he get the nerve to ignore you everyday, to have hardly any time for you, only to come back and beg for your love when it was convenient for him? 

But you keep your mouth shut, like you should, if you want to keep eating breakfast in bed, keep wearing silk robes while watching the view of the ocean outside your window.

“So beautiful…you’re like a work of art, the kind no amount of money can buy.” 

That was funny, hilarious even. Enough so to make you cry. 

A familiar face passes by the slightly ajar door to distract you, likely one of the housekeepers leaving for the night. But you swear the man’s figure reminds you of someone from your past, someone you loved and left for good. 

Your husband brings back your attention by placing a gentle kiss to your temple, blindly undoing the clasp of the necklace he bought you.

“I’m so lucky… so lucky to have been the one to catch you, forever. No one could’ve done it, not without what I have.”

He wanted you to kiss and caress back, but sometimes lying still was just enough. It was enough for him to witness you, basking in the glow of everything you wore from him, lying in the Egyptian cotton sheets he paid extra for, your body molded to the diet his personal chefs cooked. 

Even as he pushed a knee between your legs, traveling from your navel to your stomach with open-mouthed sucks and kisses in the rawest form of affection, you couldn’t help but turn your face deep into the pillow. So soft, the soft purple shielding your eyes from his tender gaze.

You might’ve given up love, given up everything familiar and those who you’ve cared for-- but at least you had satin pillows to cry on, and the finest jewelry to wipe your tears with. 

[hpmort]

In this current state of intoxication I realize that my thematic issues with the Steven Universe finale were reliant on projecting Pink Diamond onto Steven, and that it was all based on how it was pulled off- especially how easy it would have been to fix!

Change White Diamond’s pink lighting that makes it look like maybe Steven took control of her to being multicolored, making it more clear that she’s not had her abilities turned back on her, but rather whatever the flushing was supposed to symbolize (which I can kind of identify but can only gesture towards, perhaps not only because I am on drugs), and move “Change Your Mind” from its clumsy placement at the end, and make it play over White Diamond changing hers.

Then, have Sadie Killer and the Suspects play over the part that has the Off-Colors landing and meeting the Diamonds; then, the song ends after the fast version of the the scene with the Diamonds and the Off-Colors.

Everything is the same after that, minus the clumsy implementation of the song “Change Your Mind” into the show, so it ends with the reprise of the theme song.

[hotpinkstars]

LOST POSSESSIONS - aventurine, boothill, x reader

- in which you lost your wedding band during a conflict with something/someone.

- novas comeback post guys I'm gonna be more fluent with writing I promise. hope you enjoy this though I was gonna add Sunday but my computer is literally at 1 percent sooooooo....

- a lot of crying, minor swearing, besides that all comfort... wc 912

When Aventurine walked into your shared home to the sight of you sobbing on the couch, he thought of the worst. Are you hurt? Did something happen while he was at work? He went up to you to seek for answers.

“What happened? What's wrong?” He internally panicked, not wanting to allow you to see his current emotions. He kept calm as you sat up, tear stained face poking a hole through his battered heart.

“You’re gonna be so pissed!” You sob, somehow starting to cry even harder. You dove back into the warm cushions of the couch when you felt the part near your shins dip, and a hand running through your hair and massaging the back of your scalp.

“You can tell me anything. I won’t be upset, I promise,” he gave you a sympathetic look before proceeding. “But if you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t push you.”

You hesitantly show him your bare hands, and he takes them in his. You roll over to face him and look at him with a pained expression, and that's when he seemed to realize. 

“Where's your wedding ring?” He said, his words quick. He looked at you slightly wide-eyed before you began bawling again. He began to swipe the tears out of your eyes, his thumb coming into contact with your lower lashes as he quietly attempts to hush you and calm you down.

“Was it stolen? Did you lose it?” 

You bring a hand up to your face before sniffling. “It got stolen. The diamond was too appealing to some bastard on the streets on Golden Hour, and it was swiped right off of my hand!” 

You curl back into yourself before Aventurine comes down to kiss your face. “I’m not mad at you, babe. I’m beyond pissed off with the person who did that. Nobody seems to have even a drop of human decency these days, do they?” 

You slightly shrugged before hugging him close. He returned the hug, and held you there until you quietly whispered a question into his ear. “What are we going to do about the ring?”

He slightly chuckled before bringing his head on top of yours. “I might as well get you a new one. The old one was rather… out of date, if I must say so myself. I could get you a bigger, brighter diamond.”You attempted to protest, attempting to say everything he knew you wanted to say- even something made out of paper would be good enough for me. But he thought you were worth the shiniest, biggest, rarest stone in the world. Worth much much more than that. And this incident wasn’t much of a setback for him, and really didn’t make his wallet cry very hard at all.

Boothill doesn’t play when his significant other is not doing very well. He’s immediately at your side, stroking your hair and trying to do or say anything he can to make you feel better. 

But in this instance, it didn’t really work. He realized after a few moments that he just had to be patient, and wait for you to come to him,

“You’re going to be so mad at me if I told you,” you hiccuped, before continuing to talk. “Please don’t yell at me.”

“Why would I ever yell at ya’?” He said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Whatever's got your pretty face all stained with tears can’t be that bad. I hate gettin’ mad at ya’, and ya’ know that.”

You nodded, but dug your face deeper into the pillows. Boothill simply put his metal hand on your back, and rubbed up and down. While the sensation felt cold, it seemed to work to help calm you down because you felt more at ease, and he could tell that too. 

“I lost my wedding ring. I don’t know where it went, but one moment it was there and then the next it wasn’t on my hand anymore,” you cut out, trying to hold back more tears. You could see his face change from scared to relaxed.

“Hey, don’t stress it. That’s just a lil’ setback, nothin’ to worry about. We’ll either find it or I’ll buy ya’ a new one,” he says as he picks up your now bare hand, a flash of sadness showing through his eyes. “What’ll make ya’ feel better? Cuddles? If we went out to try n’ find it?”

You shrugged, and he nodded. You buried yourself even deeper into the blankets, giving him the hint that you just wanted to stay inside for now. You felt too bad and your face was rose red from crying, your eyes puffy and your voice raspy. He climbed into the bed with you, wrapping his strong, metallic arm around your covered torso. 

“I’ll do a thorough investigation tomorrow. People don’t usually lie to Galaxy Rangers, but I doubt those adorable cutie pies would know somethin’ like that,” he immediately cringed, realizing how the sentence came out. His stupid synesthesia beacon. 

But he heard you laugh, and the cringe feeling dissipated into a warmth in his metal chest. His whole goal is to keep you happy, healthy, and safe. If he were to fail at one of those things, he’d fail at his own purpose. For now, his only thing is to cheer you up, and make sure you know that he would never be mad at you for a mistake that's not even your fault.

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 2

Part 1

Damian glared at the envelope. He and Father were in the process of analysing the letter for any signs of toxins, explosives or other traps. Obviously he wasn’t fool enough to open a missive from a questionable source without taking precautions. So far, all their scans had come up empty. Literally. The letter was defying all their attempts at chemical or spectroscopic testing, x-ray and magnetic resonance scans were inconclusive, it defied all properties of ordinary matter. It was frustrating. It was vexing. He was blaming magic.

For all intents and purposes, the letter looked like ordinary paper, with an ordinary wax seal, bearing the initials CW. The looping handwriting addressing it to Damian was precise and neat. Swiping the surface of the letter for chemical traces yielded no results. When Damian had tried to cut off a corner of the paper for analysis it had resisted all attempts, including a laser and a diamond headed cutting tool. Damian’s only satisfaction was that when Father had grunted and taken over the task from Damian, he had no more success than his son. As if Damian didn’t know how to perform the standard array of tests!

It certainly didn’t help that his siblings wouldn’t stop their incessant chattering!

“I’m just saying, ghosts wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve encountered, Red. I’m not sure it would even make my personal Top 5.”

It seemed gossip among heroes travelled faster than the speed of light.

“Really, Nightwing? Ghosts? It’s far more likely to be a meta with something to hide. Or a few screws loose.” Damian could practically hear the eyeroll in Drake’s voice “And since when do ghosts act as glorified mailmen?”

“I don’t know Red, since when do aliens pretend to be Kansas farmboys? C’mon, we deal with magic users all the time!”

“And lets not forget people coming back from the dead” Red Hood interjected over the open comm line.

“Magic is just science we don’t understand yet. Any sufficiently analysed magic becomes indistinguishable from science!”

“B, a little help here?”

“Hn” Father straightened up from his position at the lab table “Oracle, any progress on clearing up the footage from Robin’s mask?”

Grayson threw up his hands with a frustrated huff while Drake smirked.

“The program is almost finished rendering. Whatever scrambler they used did a real number on the video quality. I’m surprised the audio is as clear as it is.” Oracle replied.

“Hn. And the isotope tracer on the money?”

“Sorry B, no hits on the local sensors. Wherever the guy went it’s either outside Gotham or shielded somehow.” she said, mildly frustrated.

“Maybe it’s ghost magiiiiic” Drake sing-songed. Grayson lightly cuffed the back of his head, to which the former Robin responded with a firm shove. Their interaction quickly devolved into a childish tussle.

Damian gave an annoyed huff. “Don’t you two imbeciles have anything better to do?”

“Aww, we’re just here to look out for our baby brother!” Nightwing teased.

“Yeah, we gotta make sure your ghost encounter didn’t leave any lasting psychological damage!” Red Robin added.

Before Damian could retaliate for their needling, Oracle chimed in. “Uh, guys? You’re going to want to see this. Most of the footage was corrupted beyond repair, but I was able to pull some partial stills and, well…” she threw a handful of pictures up on the screen. There was artifacting marring them, but parts of the stranger were visible in each of them. Oracle magnified one that had a pretty good view of his face.

“Holy shit” Drake whispered.

Damian frowned. “What?”

“Dami, he looks like you. Just… older.” Grayson said softly.

“What are you talking about?” Damian snapped.

“Disregard the pale colouring for a second. The nose, the chin… he looks like you if you had a growth spurt,” Drake wrinkled his nose “and went through puberty.”

The commlines erupted into chaos. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Spoiler exclaimed “are you telling me there’s an older version of Robin running around Gotham?!”

“Copy?” Batgirl inquired.

“Don’t tell me Talia cooked up Demon Brat 2.0!”

“Given that he looks older it’s more likely version 0.1 if anything,” Drake snarked, “though there’s the possibility of artificially accelerated growth rates…”

Damian had had enough. “Tt. You are ignoring the obvious - if this is some kind of supernatural entity it likely copied aspects of my appearance in an attempt to engender feelings of familiarity.” he said haughtily, pushing down the uncomfortable churning in his stomach. There was no way Mother would replace him with a cheap copy. She couldn’t! “Besides, the creature has obvious powers and neither of my bloodlines has any trace of the meta gene.”

“That’s ignoring the ghostly elephant in the room.” Grayson chimed in, “Maybe it’s a dead ancestor?”

Drake gave their older brother an annoyed look “Even a time travelling descendant from the future is more likely than that. And delivering a ‘prophecy’ to boot?”

Oracle pulled up an aged up picture of Damian next to the stranger’s, highlighting several reference points. “On closer inspection, there’s a couple of discrepancies. The cheekbones for one - Robin definitely takes after his mother, while our mystery meta looks more like… well… Robin’s grandmother on the paternal side.” she finished hesitantly. “B?”

They turned to look at Batman, who had remained silent during the whole exchange. If they hadn’t known him so well they would have thought him unaffected, but the tightening around his mouth betrayed his agitation.

“There’s no use in pointless speculation until we have more data to work from,” he growled, “Oracle, look for any reports of a meta matching the target. Since our regular methods have failed to yield results, I will contact the JLD about running tests on the letter.” He turned to Drake, “Red Robin, see what you can find on recent League activities. If this is another scheme by Ra’s or Talia we need to know about it.”

“The last thing we need is more demon spawn running around!” Red Hood groaned over the comms.

Damian was furious. This was absurd! To even indulge the possibility that that creature was in any way related to him was making him feel like he had swallowed battery acid. He was the Demon’s Heir! He was not replaceable! There was only one thing to do.

“Robin? Stop!”

He ignored his Father’s shout. He stomped over to the lab table, snatched up the envelope and broke the seal.

Nothing happened.

He unfolded the paper and saw the same handwriting that had been on the outside.

Brother of blood, brother of soul

Never buried but already mourned

In lightning and ice the scorned child returned

To strike down the Demon’s Head

With all that Death earned

Damian’s hand shook. He reread the lines over and over again, refusing to comprehend. He could feel his Father standing behind him, scrutinising the letter as well.

“Son…”

Suddenly, the paper burst into green flames, going up into smoke that dissipated unnaturally quickly.

Silence reigned for a few moments. Then…

“Well that was needlessly melodramatic” Nightwing remarked.

Part 3

[hqbaby]

thirteen — respectfully, fuck off

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2.4k content. profanity, mentions of injury, reader’s family is fucked up, violent confrontation (stops before it escalates but mentioning it jic)

“Do you wanna get married someday?”

It was past midnight and you and Satoru were in your room, lying on your bed, talking about everything and nothing at all. Your head was resting on his bare chest, one of his hands holding you to him by your waist and the other twirling a strand of your hair. It was a quiet moment, the good kind, and you didn’t want it to end.

You lifted your head and looked at him, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes as he peered at you, a relaxed expression painting his features. “You wanna marry me?”

“‘Course,” he said without hesitation. He squeezed your waist and smiled. “What about you? Wanna marry me?”

You tilted your head to the side and hummed, pretending to consider your answer very carefully. “I don’t know,” you told him. “Would you sign a prenup?”

He let out a soft laugh and shook his head, pulling you over to straddle him. “I’d do anything for you,” he told you as he leaned up until your noses touched. “So, what do you say? After graduation?”

You nuzzled your nose against his, hovering over his lying form. “You gotta get a job first,” you said. “How else could you afford a ring?”

“Right, right,” Satoru whispered, his gaze drifting towards your lips. “What kind of ring do you want? Diamond? Sapphire? What about emerald?”

You ran a hand through his hair and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Any ring would do.”

His smile grew wider, his grin all toothy and boyish. “You’re an easy girl to please,” he said as he cupped your cheek. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you said back, smiling now too.

“I really love you, do you know that?”

You scrunched your nose. “I might’ve had an inkling.”

“Just an inkling?” he asked, hands coming to grip your thighs. He clicked his tongue. “Now. that won’t do.”

You laughed. “You’re such a dork,” you told him.

“Well, you love this dork.”

You nodded, letting your lips hover over his, the promise of a kiss just waiting to be fulfilled. “I do,” you told him. “I really do.”

“Aika’s down.”

You look up from the place on the ground where you’ve been stretching. Yuki walks over to the team with a disappointed look on her face, her phone dangling from her hand.

Mai, who’s sitting on the bench beside you, is the first to ask. “What happened, coach?”

Yuki sighs. “Busted her ACL.”

There’s a resounding chorus of winces and “fuck”s. There’s also a silently shared consensus of “thank god it wasn’t me.” It’s selfish, you all know that, but someone else’s injury is always just another bullet dodged for you.

“On the bright side, the doctors say she can make a full recovery,” Yuki tells you. “But that’ll take a while and it’ll leave us with an empty spot in singles.”

“Mika’s coming back, isn’t she?” you ask. “Her exchange program’s ending soon.”

Mai shakes her head. “Not soon enough,” she says. “We have our first real tournament a week after she comes back. She won’t have enough time to train.”

You turn to Yuki. “So what are we gonna do?”

She just grins. “You mean what are you gonna do?”

“What?”

“You’re playing singles.”

“What?”

“You played in high school, right?” Mai asks, prodding you with her foot to get your attention. “You’re probably our best shot right now.”

You let out a nervous laugh as everyone’s eyes fall on you. “I don’t know, guys,” you say. “I mean, you all saw me trip last time. I’ve been off my game.”

But Yuki’s already decided. She shrugs and places her phone in her pocket. “Then we lose,” she says, looking at you sternly, “and it’ll be your fault. So I suggest you bring your A game for the sake of the team.”

You swallow, trying to ignore the eyes that now rest of you, waiting for your oh-so-predictable answer. “Yes, coach.”

She nods and waves everyone off. “Get some rest, everyone,” she says. “You’ll need it.”

Everyone disperses, girls coming to pat you back and wish you luck. You know what they’re all thinking as their hands touch your skin. Thank god it wasn’t me.

“You’re so fucked,” Mai laughs once everyone has gone and you go to gather your things.

You shove her and roll your eyes. “Thanks for really backing me up there, partner,” you tell her, sarcasm dripping through your words. “‘You played in high school, right?’” you say as you attempt to mock her voice. “Such an ass.”

She wraps her arm around your shoulders and presses her head against yours. “You’ll be fine,” she says as she leads you to the locker room. “Besides, it’ll only be one tournament. The new girls are coming after the break too, so we’ll be just fine.”

You groan. “I hate you.”

“Whatever you say, partner.” She chuckles, leading you through the door. “You need a shower. You fucking stink.”

You push her head before sprinting forward. “I call the good shower!”

“Hey! You can’t do that!”

You sit in your car, engine off, window down as you stare at your phone. As soon as you left the sports complex, you found yourself overcome by a single thought: Sukuna.

The two of you haven’t spoken since you last saw each other. Since you… kissed. Granted, it’s only been a few days, but for the two of you, it feels like a lifetime. You don’t remember the last time you went this long without at least sending him a silly video or receiving a paragraph-long update from him describing a massive shit he’d just taken.

But even as you stare at your chat with him, you can’t bring yourself to send him anything.

You haven’t told anyone about the kiss. Not Maki, not Nobara, not even Kento, no matter how much you wanted to annoy him with random information about your life. For some reason, you can’t seem to let the thought slip through your lips, can’t even vocalize the fact that it happened. And that you don’t know why it’s bothering you so much. And that you don’t know why you’ve been plagued by the desire to have it happen again.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and shake your head. It’ll work itself out, you think. Things between you and Sukuna always do anyway.

With a sigh, you turn your car on and drive back to your apartment.

As you park your car, you wonder if the elevator in your building—after a good few days of being out of service—has finally been repaired or if you need to climb up the three flights of stairs with your tired legs. The prospect of walking more than a few feet isn’t appealing at all.

You grab your bags from the backseat and get out of your car, following the familiar steps from the parking lot to the elevator.

And that’s when you see him.

You find that you can’t move. You can’t leave, you can’t run, you can’t hide. You just stand there, frozen, in complete and utter shock. How did he even know where to find you?

“Dad?”

The word feels foreign on your tongue, worn out of your vocabulary from disuse.

He stands before you with a smile, holding his arms out in the prospect of an embrace. “Sweetheart,” he says, the pet name passing through his tongue coated in sickly sweet honey. “It’s been too long.”

He leans forward to hug you, but you manage to step back, avoiding his touch. He frowns at that and lowers his arms. “You don’t look happy to see me.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t see my daughter now?” he asks, eyes narrowing. “Is that how it is between us?”

Your eyes shift away from him. “What are you doing here?” you ask again, quieter this time.

“I just wanted to see you,” he tells you in the most earnest tone a liar can muster. “And I wanted to tell you the good news.”

You scoff. Not once in your life has your father ever had good news for you. “The good news?”

He clasps his hands together and nods. “You have a baby brother.”

“What?” You gape at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Hisako gave birth,” he tells you happily. “Just a few weeks ago.”

“Hisako,” you repeat slowly, trying to place the name. Your eyes widen in realization. “Oh,” you say softly. “Is she the new one?”

He tuts. “Don’t call her that.”

You’re not quite sure what he expects from you at this point. Your father who, at nine, you learned had been habitually sleeping with women who were not your mother. Your father who, despite his penchant for infidelity, your mother could never quite bring herself to leave. Your father who, just a few months ago, you learned had gotten his most recent mistress pregnant and who decided it was only right to treat the whole thing like it was normal, like it was expected.

As he starts to talk about your new brother, your hand slips to your phone. It’s almost an instinct, pressing his name in your contacts. Second nature, searching for him when things are going wrong.

You don’t even have to look at your phone to know that Sukuna’s already answered your call, that he can hear every single part of this ludicrous conversation you’re having with the man who expects more than you will ever want to give him.

Just as you start to think that things can’t get any worse, your father drops the bomb. The real reason why he’s here in the first place.

“I want you to come home.”

You blink at him. “You want me to do what?”

“Come home,” he tells you. “Your mother can’t stand the baby and Hisako’s not exactly good at the whole child-rearing thing.”

“You want me to come home and leave college to take care of your kid?” you ask in disbelief. The anger hits you before you even realize it. “Do you know how fucking insane you sound?”

Your father doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like it at all. His lips twist into a snarl as he steps closer to you, grabbing your wrist when you try to back up.

“Don’t ever speak to me like that again,” he seethes. “You will come home because I’m telling you to. I have no idea how you got it in your head that you could just leave your family the way you did, but I’ve indulged your childish fantasies for long enough.”

You struggle against him, panic settling in as his grip on you tightens. “Dad—”

“You’re just like your mother, you know?” he says, venom coursing through his words. “Always so fucking stubborn.”

You look down at your wrist as it gets crushed in his hold. “You’re hurting me,” you say. “Please. Stop.”

“So stubborn, so—”

You barely even catch it, the moment that flashes between your father nearly breaking your wrist and him being pushed away. It’s a blur, really. It happens so quickly, so quietly, you have to wonder if it’s even happened at all.

“Respectfully, sir, back the fuck off.”

You look at the man standing in front of you, his back a sight you might even know better than that of your own hand.

“Leave,” Sukuna spits out before your father can even say a word. Even turned away from you, he keeps a protective hand on your shoulder. He squeezes as if to say, It’s okay. I got this.

Your father glares. “You,” he says. “You’re the brat who ruined my daughter. She was so good before she met you. Now she’s fucked in the head.”

“Is that why she’s been doing so great without you?” Sukuna shoots back. You can tell through his voice that he’s holding back. Your best friend’s never been one to shy away from violence, he’s only restraining himself for your sake. You may not love the man, but he is still your father, and Sukuna knows that means something to you.

“Leave,” Sukuna tells your father. “I won’t say it again.”

Your father snickers, looking past Sukuna at you. “I always figured you’d never survive on your own,” he says. “Just like your mother.”

“Sir, if you don’t fucking—”

“I’m leaving, brat,” your father tells your friend, backing up. “You can fucking have her.”

It’s quiet for a moment, the only sounds you can hear are your father’s footsteps retreating, disappearing. You and Sukuna stay in your places, motionless until the footsteps fade away completely.

You sniffle once and Sukuna is already turning and holding you to his chest, shushing you as you wipe tears from your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Can I see your wrist?”

Carefully, you lift your arm and his hands come to cradle yours as he studies your skin, grimaces at the light bruises that are starting to form in the spot that your father held.

“Did he do anything else?” he asks gently.

You shake your head. “I’m sorry for calling you.”

“What? Fuck no.” He places a finger beneath your chin and guides you to look at him. “Don’t ever apologize for that. None of this is your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have left,” you tell him. “I should’ve stayed with my mom. She has to live with that asshole every day of her life.”

His eyes soften at that. Always putting everyone else before you. “She’s okay,” he says. “And you tried to get her to leave. She was the one who wouldn’t listen.”

He can tell from the look on your face that his answer doesn’t sate you, isn’t exactly what you wanted to hear, but he can also tell that you know it’s the truth. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. You learned that lesson long ago.

“I’m sorry,” you say again and you already know Sukuna’s about to scold you for it, so you press a finger to his lips before he does. “For avoiding you these past few days. I wasn’t being fair.”

He cracks a smile and behind your finger says, “I was avoiding you too. I’m sorry.”

You pull your finger away and bury your face in his chest for a moment, breathing in the scent of his detergent, the brand you helped him pick out in freshman year that he’s used ever since. “You wanna come upstairs?”

“I wasn’t gonna leave you even if you asked,” he says, eyes crinkling as he grins.

notes. this chapter is A LOT but we’re really getting deeper into reader’s background and ofc sukuna saving the day is 🥵 anyway just wanted to mention that i really enjoy reading your comments and asks, i don’t get to reply to everything but i see it all and ily babes <3 glad you’re enjoying this series because i’m having so much fun writing it

[henneseyhoe]

Daddy’s Money.

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader.

WARNINGS:lil bit of nasty smut, brief one sided relationship, lewis being pussy whipped, reader is heavily implied to be a gold digger(she is but shhhh! let her rock frl), daddy kink, money making reader hornayyy(me asf), not edited(idc rn i’m sleepy), there MIGHT be plot holes(again, i’m sleepy) and das it i think.

ps. also i’m ngl i wrote this halfway lazily, i just wanted to get back into writing sooo yeah.

✮✮✮✮

The arrangement was really an accident (at first). You were hired to fit and dress the man after practically begging for the job, needing the money to jump start your fashion career since your father had cut you off the month prior. It’d take nearly five years to do so, but with someone as easy going as lewis, time would fly fast.

Eventually he grew fond of you, and you of him..him a bit (a lot) more than you actually. Months after getting hired he began bringing you around for things that wasn’t about his style, things that someone would do for a budding romance. You didn’t mind either, it was working in your favor getting the extra hours to do nothing. You didn’t mean to snag a sugar daddy, a famous one at that, just like you didn’t mean to fuck him before the met gala, damn near making him late. It just…happened; Which is what you’d say to judgy bitches.

You also didn’t mean to point out that midnight black bag (and a few other things) you had been wanting when shopping for him the week after the met. Those things mysteriously showed up on your door step two days later to your surprise. You were beginning to think he was a little generous…so you tested something out.

“Ugh! Wouldn’t this look so good on me?”

You pout as you held the designer dress up to your body. It was originally intended to go to another woman they paired him with for an event, but seeing it up against you instead was all he had to see before he told his assistant to inform the woman she’d be wearing something else. In awe, you proceeded to wear that dress to the event that night, easily gaining eyes from guests and earning yourself a name as Lewis’s “sexy ass stylist” online when the pictures taken of you went viral.

Later on that night the dress was being ripped apart from the back and thrown to the floor by you know exactly who, him doing everything in his power to get to what was underneath.

You couldn’t tell if your pussy was good or if he was just that whipped for you after that night. Either way, you were having fun.

Before you could snap your fingers, whatever you were THINKING of wanting was at your fingertips. He had more money than he could spend, and you had no problem helping him find what to do with it! It was only fair, ya know, for his sake.

The first time you realized he was really wrapped around your little iced out finger was the last time you had wanted for anything for long.

“I could have anything I want? seriously??”

You looked to him in shock, the man shrugging as he debated on a pair of versace shoes. “Have at it, love” He responded simply with a quick endearing smile to you before waving over an assistant to help you. You felt like a kid in a candy store.

^Also the last time you referred to him as anything other than daddy when not in public, (or at least not noticeably to others in public).

He was liquid when you called him that. soft putty in your hands, ready for you to shape him into anything you desired.

“Come on, daddy. Don’t you wanna see your name in diamonds on me? Don’t you wanna mark me? claim me?”

You taunted him in a seductive tone as you rolled your hips onto him. You flipped your hair to one side of your shoulder so you could look back at the work you were putting in, Lewis staring back at you with hearts in his eyes and his bottom lip tucked into his mouth. Both of y’all’s jeans were halfway down with your pretty brown ass perched up for him to see the tip of his long dick teasingly slide between your lips and into your honey coated walls repeatedly. He was right there on the edge, you could feel it and you hadn’t even sat all the way down on him yet.

Really it was either say yes to the chain or be left to make himself cum, he understood that completely. As he nods eagerly in agreement, you plopped your plump self down into his lap and he came as fast as police in white neighborhoods.

By the seventh month of being together your closet was every woman with a fashion sense dream. Designer galore (and not the ugly shit neither). He got you designs that wasn’t on racks yet but straight off a runway, things that fit perfectly to YOUR body. (Seeing that he was getting to know it so well..He could probably draw a map of you with just his damn tongue.)

You began getting way more noticed by his fans and friends, not only for suddenly having a thing for wearing expensive clothes and jewels, but for also being close with Lewis. Dating rumors had started to run amuck. The first plan was to deny, deny, deny but it was hard to do that when you were wearing his name on your neck, hiding the chain under your shirts or wearing it backwards so no one would see the name plate.

But the chain wasn’t what caused the dam to break. It was when you posted bags and gifts with flowers, a card attached that had a heartfelt and flirty handwritten poem on it, forgetting to even scribble out his name. Fans and close friends were on the fence, some of his associates madder than an ant colony in the rain and some fans confused on where the hell you even came from and where you got off on gold digging. The clothes and jewelry were finally starting to make sense and you gave the saying “Look like money” a new meaning.

Lewis was quick to come to your defense in interviews, you had never seen anyone get so nice nasty or petty in your honor. He was witty and quick with comebacks, his polite tone masking rude comments at any interviewer that dared to have an opinion about you that he didn’t like. He made sure as everything went on online and your name trended for the second time that week that you didn’t lack reassurance ever.

“Look in the mirror and let daddy know who’s it is”

He pulls you by your braids up to the direction of the reflecting headboard, your back pressed against his chest as his hips met your ass with a hard smack. After hours of pleasurable “reassurance” there wasn’t a spot inside you that his dick didn’t hit, a place on you that his tongue didn’t lick. The chain you had asked for a bit ago clinked freely against your chest and a fucked out evil smile grew on your face as you look him in the eyes through the mirror. “It’s yours, daddy. you know it’s all yours” You would reply before your walls gushed around his dick.

✮✮✮✮

Fans who prayed on your downfall weren’t so happy when they got the news that you two married two years later in Greece. The wedding was private, but it was no secret that a fortune was spent and that didn’t make the gold digging comments better. (Even though your father paid)

Those comments followed you into your fashion brand era and though you chose to be mysterious about private life and yourself in general, (for obvious reasons) you felt it was only right to defend your honor at least once.

Like the great actress you were, you did what white women around him had been doing to you since the beginning and threw on the waterworks, crying in front of any watchful eye when the rumors were brought up with your amazing husband by your side comforting you immediately. How dare they say such things about THEE Lewis Hamilton’s wife?? THEE Y/N Hamilton???

Your newly grown fan base called it blasphemy. There wasn’t an online blog on beyoncé’s internet that went untouched when having something to say about you. Everything they said was untrue! You had your own money, your own brand, (funded by your husband) and your own name.

“They’re so mean to me”

You pout as Lewis carefully takes off your heels and kisses the top of your feet before standing and caressing your cheek. “You know how the media is, and I know nothing they say about you is true. I’ll have my team take care of it, okay?” He reassured and you smile, mentally noting to suck his dick before bed. As if you were rewarding a dog for jumping through a hoop, being soft and on your side at all times was Lewis’s hoop, and he had better jump through every. single. time.

To be fair, there may have been some superficial motives behind the building of this relationship (on your side at least) but he genuinely did grow on you, and that was before you knew he was a trick, that part just made it deeper.

You were in shock when he asked you to marry him originally, so much so that you refused the first time because it scared you. You avoided him for an entire week and refused to go to work until you realized you had grown so accustomed to being around him that you could barely function. Apart from the fact that you were opening doors by yourself and eating dinner alone, you hadn’t noticed how much you liked talking to him, being with him and simply in his presence.

Materials aside, you loved him, you were in love with him. Infatuated just as much as he was with you by now and you came too long of a way to be scared off.

In reality you telling him no wasn’t gonna stop him from perusing. He knew you were gonna be his wife for a long time now and nothing was gonna get in the way of him finding you (and he kinda duped you with the whole falling for him thing anyway because he knew what half of your motives were and played his role well), you just found him first and made him pop that question again, which that time you happily said yes to.

✮✮✮✮

[strawberrygummiess]

anemone.

azul ashengrotto x gender neutral! reader 4.6k words cross posted on ao3 "Can I request Azul x reader where after a trip into town the reader is begging Azul for a few shifts at the most to lounge? Turns out in a little shop they found what looks to be a replica of their mom’s wedding ring and they miss their parents so much. Who cares if it’s not real gold or fake diamonds? It looks like home and they’re willing to slave just to get it. Azul can’t turn away tears now can he?"

Everyone knew you were short on money.

You had become one of the most notorious penny pinchers on campus, although, it wasn’t your fault.  Crowley’s “generosity” could only take you so far before you had to be creative. Brand new, dubious tuna-based dishes; impractical fixes for your household wares; sewing and resewing every hole in your uniform; and of course, finding jobs anywhere they’d take you.

This was easier said than done, of course. As much as you’d love to go into town and find a stable part-time job, you could only get so far into the application process before it became very apparent that you were not from this world. And you suspected that an unknown person coming in and out of Night Raven College gates with zero records of their existence was not a scandal that Crowley (or you, for that matter) was equipped to handle. Not that anyone would let you starve to death, you had more food-related gifts than you could handle. It made you grateful for Grim’s never-ending stomach. The food was nice, but it wasn’t everything. What you really needed was a steady income.

If you can’t get a job in town, you would have to get the next best thing: The Mostro Lounge. The students who worked there always bragged about the pretty paychecks they earned every two weeks. Who cared that they looked ragged every day? You needed that money.

And that’s why you were here, deep in Octavinelle dorm, begging Azul for a position at the Mostro Lounge. You needed money. Your dorm was falling apart. Your clothes had holes in them. You were just so tired of eating tuna. Anything to garner some sympathy.

He didn’t need to know the real reason. That you’ve been eyeing up in the jewelry shop in town. That you were desperate to buy a ring that looked eerily similar to your mother’s wedding ring. That you were grasping for any reminder of your home. Because that would be embarrassing. And a prime opportunity to get manipulated by Azul. And you had already done that song and dance.

So now, here you were, nervously bouncing your leg while you waited for his response. He seemed to be mulling the idea over, seemingly thinking of a way to trick you into getting the short end of the stick. He hummed an unrecognizable tune while he filed through his contracts, finishing the task he started before you arrived, occasionally peering over his glasses to look at you. You were undeniably anxious, fidgety, and uncomfortable: the prime emotional state to agree to a dodgy deal.

“Now Prefect, do calm down,” Azul mused, placing his chin in his hand after he finished his sorting. He watched as you settled your leg and gave him a tense smile. Despite his confident demeanor, he knew he had to tread carefully here. You were a delicate case.

On the one hand, you were smart. You had already bested him once before, and he knew you were entirely capable of doing it again. You also wouldn’t sign any old contract, even with this out-of-character desperation. On the other hand, Azul couldn’t say he’d seen this level of distress from you before. Especially about your “money problems”.

As smart as you were, he was no fool. Something was up. He just didn’t know what.

“I understand you’re looking for a part-time serving job. The Mostro Lounge is always looking for new talent, however- “

“It’s crucial that I get this job.”

Azul tsks at your interruption before leaning back in his chair. You can see it on his face. Annoyance, frustration. A hint of confusion if you knew what to look for. Nothing pleasant. The smile on his face didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. Less patient.

“Now, now Prefect, I know your work ethic. I am not against hiring you per se. I just ask for a little… transparency amongst my employees. I’m a fair and equitable boss, I only want to help you.”

Your leg began to bounce again.

“C’mon Azul, you remember what Ramshackle was like. It hasn’t gotten much better. And look- “You hold up your arm to reveal the miserable patch you scrapped together with what remained of your curtains. Your blazer had more mismatched patches than linen at this point.

“Your clothes are ruined, and you’re looking to eat something a bit different this week, yes, yes, I know this one.” Azul finishes. His stare is pointed. “However, this is how it’s always been. And never have I seen you so desperate to pick up shifts. Is there something going on? You know I can help you without sending you to work.”

Fat chance. You know his game. You’d allow him to “help” you and then be stuck as an errand boy indefinitely. You were already Crowley’s servant. You weren’t too keen to be someone else’s. You gingerly lower your arm and take a moment to decide on your answer. The whole truth was out of the question, of course, but you could afford to tell him a little bit. Just enough to get him off your case.

“It’s nothing you don’t already know about, like you said. I’m just… tired of living this way. It’d be nice to have extra cash, so I don’t have to complain constantly. That’s all.” You settle. It wasn’t a lie. You needed extra cash anyway. You were just going to use it for a non-essential.

Well, a non-essential to everyone else.

Azul hums in approval before swiveling his chair around to the filing cabinet behind him. He riles through files of paperwork before grabbing a thick stack of papers. At this point, he knows he isn’t getting any more information out of you. If this was the game you were going to play, he would win by your rules. Azul lets out a soft “ah” as he finds what he’s looking for. He turns back around, and with a snap of his fingers, the filing cabinet closes with a loud clink. He sets the stack of papers down on his desk before opening another drawer. You take the opportunity to read the cover. Mostro Lounge Employee Handbook.  

 “That is yours to keep. It has all the information you need about our company, code of conduct; policy and procedures- do study those thoroughly-; and workers’ rights,” Azul begins to flip through the booklet before landing on a section towards the end.

“And this is your acknowledgment that you’ve read the handbook. When you finish reading through it, sign here and tear the page from the booklet.”

You grab the booklet from his desk, flipping through the pages quickly. It would take you at least an hour to read through it, let alone study. You land on the Policy and Procedures page and glance at the text written on it. You notice the usual statements, Attendance, Safety, and Security. Each statement had a lengthy explanation of the expectations and appropriate procedures for employees to follow. Each statement ended with a bold statement: No exceptions.

Before you can speak again, Azul hands you another set of papers.

“Here are some other official documents I will need you to sign. Onboarding processes usually involve tax forms and such but considering your unique situation we will have to create a new form for you. As for payment, as you have no bank account, it’ll be in cash.”

You thumb through the additional papers. One is an agreement of payment. The other is a form about uniforms and sizing. There is a rundown of waiter etiquette, the type of service, and a menu. Azul hands you a pen, gesturing to the payment agreement form. You quickly scan the page, looking for nefarious fine print, but ultimately decide it is safe. And you’re happy to see the high pay rate. Working for at least two weeks, plus any tips you could earn, you’re sure you’ll get that ring in no time. You sign your name eagerly. Azul quickly takes the paper and pen from your hands and grins.

“Please return the uniform slip to me by tomorrow so I can get your uniform fitted as soon as possible. I will also need you to sign the other acknowledgment papers and return those before your first day. Once your uniform is ready, you can begin working with us. Do study that menu, I need it memorized before your first day. You will shadow Jade and Floyd. Do you have any questions for me currently?”

Azul was flashing a charming smile at you. His previous look of annoyance is long gone, now replaced with a confident and relaxed gaze. You were slightly overwhelmed but matched his smile.

“Nothing I can’t text you about later, right?”

“Of course. We look forward to working with you, Prefect.”

He rises from his chair and extends a hand. You stand, shake his hand, and bid Azul farewell, carefully securing your stack of papers against your chest. The easy part was finished. Now you had to survive the hard part.

-

By the time you return to your dorm, it’s late. Grim is sitting on your kitchen counter, tail flipping in annoyance. His eyes are squeezed shut, but you know he’s awake and aware of your presence.

“All that time spent in Octavinelle and you didn’t bring any food home?” he grumbles but he happily leans into your scratches as you search for a can of tuna. His eyes open and scans the stack of papers on the counter.

“Since when did you work at the Mostro Lounge?”

“Since today.” You respond, removing your hand and opening the can. Grim follows your hands, walking in front of the can to chase your pets. You swat his head away. For a creature that claims not to be a cat, he sure acted like one.

“Are you gonna start bringing fancy food home? I want steak every day.”

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to bring steak home ever.” You laugh, emptying the tuna can into a bowl and setting it aside. You take the opportunity to look at the formidable pile of documents and sigh. You supposed you’d have to get started on memorizing sooner rather than later.

It was worth it for the ring.

-

A week passed before you were able to officially start your first day. It was an agonizing wait for you. You compulsively went to the jewelry shop the day before your start date to check that the ring was still there. Still on display, the modest ring sat among the other fancy bands. You had seen others beside it come and go, but the silver ring stayed put for nearly a month. You had never been so thankful for your mother’s practicality.

350 madols. You’d get that in two weeks if you were diligent.

On your first day, you were early. Several hours early. You entered Mostro Lounge, still crisp uniform feeling foreign on your skin. Even back home, you had never worn anything this fancy. You tentatively looked around the dark room and took in the sight of the restaurant. You had never seen it so empty. You almost felt like you were trespassing.

“Woaaah Shrimpy even beat us! Guess they’re serious!” You heard Floyd before you felt him. He grasped your shoulder while he moved in front of you. He was wearing the same uniform as you, although slightly more unkempt. While Azul’s policies had stated there were “no exceptions” to the uniform expectations, you figured Floyd couldn’t be contained by such rules.

“Well, that’s good to see. Not many new hires are this passionate about the business,” Jade strides to the other side of Floyd with a polite smile on his face. “You’re aware of the shadowing process, correct?”

“In theory,” you say, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You’ve always been slightly intimidated by the twins. “Floyd is a server and you’re on expo… I doubt I’ll be spending much time with you, though.”

Jade grins at your knowledge. “No, not while I’m doing that. But I also double as floor manager when Azul is out. That’s when you’ll be under my watch. I’m impressed. Azul told me you’re serving experience was limited.”

You bite back your comment about using the internet to look up your questions. Compliments are nice. And you didn’t want to feel any more over your head than you already did. Expeditors were for fancy restaurants. You had never seen one in your old jobs.

“So, because today is a Saturday, we’re open earlier. The chefs will be comin’ in soon to start prepping and making family, and then we’ll be ready to open. It's great that you’re here so early though. Now I can show you everything without people being in my way.” Floyd explains, guiding you through the dining area with your shoulder.

“This is the floor; you’ll primarily be working here. You’re gonna be serving with me, bussing tables, and running food.” Floyd kicks the doors open to the kitchen.

“This is the kitchen, Jade’s territory. That’s the walk-in, that’s the chef area, cleaning station, blah blah blah, you won’t really need anything back here unless you do.”

You decide not to comment on the “unless you do” bit and hope that it means it’s above your pay grade. So far it doesn’t seem too bad. Although there aren’t any guests yet.

“This is your locker; you can put your… nothing here. Yikes. Things that bad at home, Shrimpy?”

“I can always bring Grim if that makes me look less sad.” You joke, glancing around before following Floyd out of the locker area. He shows you Azul’s office, where you quickly drop off your remaining paperwork, the break area, and the storage area. By the time you’ve finished your tour, other employees have already filed in and begun their side work.

“And that brings you to the end of Floyd’s restaurant tour! I deserve a 5-star rating, right Shrimpy?” He grins, leaning down to your height to flash his teeth at you. “Go ahead and start rolling silverware, I’ll come to get you before family.”

Floyd leaves and you join the other servers, chatting politely while you prepare for service to start. You take a deep breath and try to steady your heart. You have to focus and keep your eyes on the prize.

-

Family was deceptively calm and quiet. Service was hell.

The few times you had dined in Mostro Lounge had been nearly perfect. The servers were attentive, the food delicious, and the atmosphere tranquil. It had been a while since you had worked in food service, but even your limited experience in a family-owned diner couldn’t prepare you for just how intensely Azul ran the Lounge.

The shift from front of house to back of house was like night and day. The second you entered the kitchen you could hear screams for “Hands!” and “Service!”. You constantly messed up dishes- bringing the wrong plates to the wrong tables, bringing them too early or late much to Jade’s annoyance, forgetting the menu out of stress, and the amount of chastising you were hearing for letting dishes die was agonizing. You had even crashed into a dishwasher after forgetting to announce “Behind!” breaking several dishes.

This was only your first day.

Floyd quickly told you to take five in the locker room while several students cleaned the mess you made. You quickly sat on the bench and placed your head in your hands. This was an utter disaster. You let out a miserable groan, pulling your knees to your chest. You couldn’t imagine what Azul would make of your performance. You were hoping for some sympathy, but after all the trouble you made, you wouldn’t keep an employee like you around either.

“Prefect.”

Azul’s harsh tone made you quickly regain your composure. You grimaced as you looked up at him from your seat, placing your legs back on the floor.

“I’m really sorry. It was more than I expected, I should’ve asked more questions… I can pay for the dishes, just take it out of my paycheck, I just really need this job- “

Azul put his hands up to stop you. You’re glad he did. You could feel your throat tightening as you explained yourself. You didn’t want to cry in front of him.

“Dishes can be fixed with magic. What can’t be fixed is the experiences the patrons had today.” Azul states. He opens his mouth to say something else before hesitating. You look utterly miserable. Tired, stressed, and anxious. Usually, this many mistakes in one day would warrant termination, but you’re a special case.

“…Clearly, service is a bit much for you. Tomorrow morning, I am heading into town for the farmer’s market. You will join me. Meet me in the Lounge, 6 AM sharp. Do not be late.”

Azul turns sharply and leaves the room. You breathe a sigh of relief before leaning back against the lockers. You only had a couple more hours of your shift. That was plenty of time to get at least one table right. You resigned yourself to doing the best you can before joining everyone back in the kitchen.

-

The next morning you are utterly exhausted. You were chewed up more times than you could count, and the quick turnaround from the previous workday to this morning left you with only a few hours of sleep. You were sure you looked ragged as you walked into the Mostro Lounge.

Floyd and Jade were already there, Floyd half asleep, and Jade fixing centerpieces. Jade glances at you and raises his brow.

“Oh? I figured you would’ve been fired last night.”

The harsh words made you wince, but you nodded in understanding. You did too.

“Yeah Shrimpy,” Floyd yawned. “You messed up big time yesterday. Never seen someone so bad at this.”

You pursed your lips. You were getting less understanding.

“I’m not joining you in service today,” Your brow twitched in annoyance at the sound of Floyd’s Thank God! “I’m joining Azul in town today. Picking up ingredients with him, I think.”

Floyd and Jade exchanged a look before they let out a series of giggles. Floyd’s giggles turn into a cackle that fills the room. You had never felt so much anxiety in your life. Think of the ring. Think of your mom.

“Is there something funny, Floyd?”

Azul asks as he enters the room, exactly on time. You’ve never been so excited to see him before, but if you had learned anything from NRC, it was that you did not enjoy the Twins’ company. Floyd responds to Azul with a cheeky Wouldn’t you like to know? making him scoff. Azul glances around the room, finally spotting you. He seems pleasantly surprised to see you there so early, almost expecting you to be late, or not even bother to show at all. You truly were dedicated to the paycheck. Azul couldn’t help but admire your devotion.

Jade strode over to Azul with a smile, handing him a piece of paper. Azul sighed, read over the note, and gave Jade an annoyed look before stuffing the list in his pocket.

“The Mostro Lounge does not require fifteen new types of mushrooms, Jade. Come now Prefect, otherwise, we’ll be late to the market.” Azul links your arm with his and begins leading you toward the door, and you hear Floyd’s cackles fill the air again.

The walk to town is mostly quiet. You don’t have much to say, and you’re admittedly too tired to wrack your brain for conversation points. You sneak glances at Azul’s profile as you walk, wondering what’s going on in his head.

What was so special about you that he kept you around? What did he want from you that he couldn’t get from anyone else?

“Is there something the matter, Prefect? It’s impolite to stare.”

Azul glances at you with a smile. You furrow your brows.

“Why didn’t you fire me?”

He chuckles.

“Well, I thought you needed a job. I’m helping you, like you asked.”

He leaves it as that once you approach the market. You don’t need to know how much he enjoys your presence, even when you’re messing everything up. You also don’t need to know that Jade and the head chef are usually the ones making the farmer’s market trips. If you were going to withhold information from him, it was only fair to do the same to you.

 The time spent shopping is pleasant. The tension fades away the longer you two are shopping together, and you find yourself listening to his explanations of the dishes he serves, and why the restaurant is run the way it is. You’re impressed by how much he’s accomplished at such a young age. Every time he mentions his mother’s restaurant, you can’t help but smile.

As you’re finishing up, you happen to glance around, realizing the jewelry shop is on this street. You look at Azul, who is still conversing with a vendor and begin to inch away towards the shop. You’d just take a look at the ring again, and quickly go back to Azul and leave. Simple.

You enter the shop and greet the shopkeeper, who at this point knows what you’re there to look at. You walk over to the display and peer into the glass. Still on display was your mother’s ring.

“Ah, so this is what you needed the money for!”

Azul almost sounds giddy as he approaches you. You jump back in surprise, not realizing he had even come in. You stammered out apologies, trying to cover up why you had wandered off, but it was too late. You were busted.

Azul glanced at the ring that captivated you. It was a plain silver wedding band with a simple vine engraving. There were no jewels or diamonds in the ring, making it an unpopular pick for couples. To him, it was nothing special. He turned his attention to you, who was still sputtering out explanations, embarrassed. If you just wanted it for aesthetics, you wouldn’t be this flustered. Whatever it meant to you was something he wasn’t privy to, but clearly meant a lot.

“Hey… it’s,” you finally find your words. “It’s 8:30. We have to get back so…”

Azul thankfully says nothing. He nods in agreement, and you begin your walk back to campus.

-

Your walk to quiet once again. You shuffle behind Azul, acting like it’s the groceries in your hands slowing you down. You try convincing yourself that getting caught wasn’t so bad. It shouldn’t have been something you were so embarrassed about. It was natural to miss your parents. It was natural to want something to remind you of them. It was natural to want to work yourself to the bone to earn some money. You didn’t mean to start crying, but you figured you needed it. It started as quiet tears, but they soon turned to sniffles, and then blubbering hiccups. By the time Azul realized you were crying, you were almost wailing.

If you were in the emotional state to pay attention, his panic would be hilarious.

He couldn’t figure out where to start. Did he hug you? Apologize? Ignore you? Tell you to stop crying? He wasn’t trying to upset you. He just wanted to know why you were acting so weird. He tentatively grabbed your arms, gripping them tightly, attempting to soothe you but only successfully shocking you out of a cry. His eyes were wide and worried as he tried to understand where he went wrong.

“Why are you doing that?! It was a ring!”

You sniffed, blinking away the tears in your eyes before frowning.

“It’s my mom’s ring.”

Azul purses his lips. You don’t need to say more than that. He’s a bit of Mama’s Boy himself. He nods slowly and releases your arms before reaching into his coat pocket. He pulls a handkerchief out and wipes your face before you can put the bags in your hands down. Your face is still puffy, but he tried his best to get all the tears and snot off of your face.

“We are extremely late. We must get back immediately so we can open on time.”

And without another word, you two finally make it to the lounge.

-

You finish off your first week a bit better than you started, but not by much. You’ve learned the kitchen lingo fast, but you still weren’t designed for fancy service. You had at least gotten back on Floyd and Jade’s good side, even with the occasional broken dish. You definitely understood why students earned such a high paycheck for their work at the Lounge.

After the final sweep-through, you waved goodbye to the other servers and headed to the locker room. You still hadn’t brought anything to work besides a cell phone, but you preferred sitting here rather than the official break room. You sighed and leaned your head against the lockers, eyes closed. You were utterly exhausted.

A curt, ahem, caught your attention. Standing in the doorway was Azul, eyes focused on you. Since your outburst over the weekend, you have avoided him to the best of your abilities. The embarrassment of breaking down in front of him still fluttered in your stomach. If he noticed, he didn’t show it.

“Hello Prefect. Happy to see you survived your first week,” he said, a small smile gracing his lips. It wasn’t one of his usual suave smirks, but a natural grin.

“Survive is right.” You groaned. “You run this place like a Sargent.”

“That is the restaurant business.” He laughs, approaching you. You notice an envelope in his hands.

“I noticed your improvement. Towards the end of the week, you were beginning to be a bit of help.”

“I think you mean ‘becoming a big help’?”

“No, I was very intentional with my words. You are not cut out for this.”

You put your head in your hands. You couldn’t believe he was firing you with a smile on his face.

“Great, thank you. I assume that’s my first and last paycheck?” You gesture to the envelope with one hand while the other massages the space between your eyes. Azul hums in agreement and hands it to you.

“Please do not let this deter you from visiting the Mostro Lounge again in the future. We will still honor your employee discount.” He opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but the words don’t come out.

“Good day, Prefect.”

Azul leaves abruptly, turning on his heel and exiting in a hurry. You raise a brow but quickly turn your attention to the envelope. It's smaller than you expected, bulging strangely around the middle. You can’t help but open it in the locker room.

You pull out the contents hurriedly. First is your notice of termination. The second is a note. And lastly, is the ring.

You quickly read the note.

Prefect,

I apologize for not delivering this in person. I figured you wanted to be alone after last weekend. Please let this be a reminder that I can always help you without putting you to work. We absolutely could have worked out an arrangement to fund this ring. Nonetheless, I hope this makes up for a paycheck.

Yours sincerely,

Azul

You can’t help the grin that splits your face as you slide the ring on your finger. You’d have to tell him the truth about your feelings.

The whole truth, this time.

[enhas-pov]

can you make heeseung one but LONGERRR PLSSS MAKE IT SERIES

my stalker

summary: lee heeseung has been obsessing over reader ever since he first saw her. he wants her all to himself, but how is that gonna be possible when she has no idea of who he is.

warnings: stalking, yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, secret photography, kidnapping, fake rumors, unwanted touching, unwanted gifts, property damage, drugging, being followed, etc.

word count: 3.2k

note: i’m pretty uninspired but i’ll try my best to make it into a series and make each part as long as i can:(

════════════════════════

lee heeseung had never really paid attention to any girl before. being in a relationship was the last thing on his mind. he thought it sounded ridiculous. being in love? not his thing. well that was until he found out about, ___. she was the prettiest girl he had ever laid his eyes on. she was perfect in every single way, almost like she wasn’t even real. he couldn’t believe it, had he actually caught feelings for someone? he had never felt this way before. is this what love felt like? it was the best thing he had ever felt. there was one small problem about all of this tho. ___ didn’t know who heeseung was. she didn’t know anything about him, not a single thing. heeseung on the other hand knew everything about her. he had spent his whole life following her and watching every move she made. she was all he could ever think about. heeseung wasn’t gonna give up until she was his.

“ningning. i already told you, i’m not going” i walked out of class along with the other students and my best friend, ningning. “come on! everyone’s going, why aren’t you?” she was begging me to go with her to a party that this guy yeonjun was throwing. i honestly just couldn’t be bothered to go. “i simply don’t feel like going” ningning let out a groan before crossing her arms. “fine. i’ll just go by myself, all alone..” she was obviously trying to make me feel bad about not going, but it wasn’t working. “have fun” i said, walking away from her so i could get to my locker. “you’re such a party pooper!” i heard her say as i walked away. when i reached my locker, i unlocked it and reached inside to grab my books before i noticed something had fallen out. i crouch down to pick up whatever it was. when i took a closer look at it, i realized it was a note from someone anonymous. “i hope you like my gift. it shines as beautifully as your eyes do” huh? i take a look inside my locker and spot a jewelry box. i took it out and looked at it for a few seconds out of curiosity before opening it. it revealed a really pretty diamond necklace. i was both confused and shocked. who bought me this necklace? and why would they buy it in the first place? it kinda made me feel uncomfortable, and i didn’t like that feeling at all. i closed the jewelry box and grabbed the note that came along with it, i then walked over to a trash can and threw both of them in it. i shrugged it off and walked to my next class.

little did ___ know, heeseung was stood right there in the corner watching her. what was she gonna do? was she gonna put the necklace on, would she put it in her purse, place it back in her locker? nope. none of those. she threw it away. heeseung felt himself fill up with rage, why would she do that? he spent a lot of money on that necklace just for her. it was supposed to be a special gift but she didn’t appreciate it. now, heeseung didn’t want to hurt ___. but she had just hurt him, so now she’ll get that same energy returned back to her.

i decided to walk home from school today, the weather was nice so why not. the second i caught the view of my house, i was left in shock. what had happened? the window to my living room was smashed, like someone threw a rock or something. i met my mom the second i stepped foot inside, and she looked really worried. “mom? what happened to our window?” she was on a phone call, and i noticed shortly after that it was the police she was talking to. “excuse me, my daughter just got home” she pulled the phone away from her ear so she could explain to me what had happened. “i was in the kitchen making dinner when i heard the sound of glass breaking. i rushed to the living room and saw this guy with a baseball bat running away. it was really odd, i’m glad you were at school when it happened” she put her phone back up to her ear as she continued talking to the police. i was really confused. i didn’t know why anyone would do that, especially to us. we hadn’t done anything. my mom was right, it was really odd.

i let out a big yawn when i walked into school. i didn’t get much sleep after what had happened. i was kinda scared it would happen again while i was sleeping, but thankfully it didn’t. “___, where have you been?” ningning came out of nowhere, grabbed me by my arm and dragged me to a corner. “sorry. i was too tired to get up on time-“⠀ ⠀ “well, while you got your extra 5 minutes of sleep, everyone here has been talking about you. and it’s not good” what was she talking about? why were people talking about me, and what were they saying? “i’m confused, explain” ningning bit down on her lip. it was like a part of her didn’t want to tell me. “well.. you know how you didn’t want to go to yeonjun’s party?” this can’t be good. “yes..?” she let out a big sigh before she finally told me what everyone had been saying about me. “people are saying it’s because you’re a whore whose fucked not just him, but his four other friends as well. and they’re not denying it either” sorry, what? “that’s the dumbest shit i’ve ever heard. i’m literally a virgin. and i don’t know yeonjun, or his friends!” this rumor was definitely gonna ruin my life, and i didn’t feel like sticking around to watch it happen. “i’m just gonna go home. text me” ningning replied with a simple ‘okay’ before i turned around and left. as i was making my way out of school, i could feel everyone’s eyes on me. they were all judging me and i have never felt more embarrassed in my life.

i was now laying in my bed, scrolling through random messages i had gotten from people around my school. they were all making fun of me for being a “whore” which i was not. whatever. i blocked every single one of them and finally felt better, until i got a phone call from no caller id. i figured it was someone from my school, so i declined it. i felt fine again until my phone started ringing. “no caller id” who was this person? and why couldn’t they just leave me alone for gods sake. declined again. i was gonna put my phone down before i heard that annoying ringing tone again. that’s it. i accepted the call and put the phone up to my ear. “i don’t know who this is, but calling me from no caller id is really creepy. do you not have anything better to do? those rumors are not true, now leave me alone!” i was about to hang up before i heard a guy’s voice from the other line. “calm down, pretty” his voice sounded different from other guys. it made me feel uneasy. “who is this?” when i questioned him, i heard him chuckle which made a chill run down my spine. “the guy who smashed your window and made up those rumors about you” what the hell? was this guy serious? this was really starting to scare me, but i couldn’t show that i feared him. “why did you do those things..?” i could feel my hands starting to shake. i swear i had goosebumps all over my arms. “because you threw away the necklace i got you. it really hurt my feelings, you know?” he did all of those things because of the necklace? i wouldn’t have thrown it away if i knew this would happen. “i’m sorry for throwing away the necklace. it kinda creeped me out. i don’t know who you are” i tried to be as calm as i could, i didn’t want to start freaking out. this guy was capable of doing a lot so i didn’t want to risk anything. “i accept your apology. and as for my identity, i like the fact that you have no idea who i am. it makes this a lot more interesting and fun, no?” interesting and fun? i’d say the complete opposite of that. “well, i’d really like to know more about you” maybe if i started being nice i could get on his good side, and he could stop the rumors. “i bet you do. it was nice talking to you, pretty. i’ll see you soon” and then he hung up. why did he keep on calling me pretty? it was weird how he had a nickname for me. but it was even weirder how he was the one to had done all of those things.

her voice was beautiful. heeseung loved the way he felt when he heard the sound of her voice. it was his first time talking to her and he couldn’t wait any longer. he needed her, he needed to have her all to himself. he looked up at all of the pictures he had of her on his wall. whenever he followed her, he would bring a camera and take pictures of her. oh it was his favorite thing to do. he absolutely loved it. the pictures he loved the most were the ones he took of her when she was changing out of her clothes. he thought she looked so cute in her tiny little pink panties, and that laced bra that held her boobs perfectly. he wanted to touch her so bad, to feel every inch of her body. the thought of it made him excited. he had so many plans for them made.

i haven’t been to school in a few days due to the rumors. i’ve been talking to ningning of course, but i couldn’t stop thinking about that phone call i had with that guy. i wanted to know who he was so bad. why did he even get me that necklace? that obviously means he has a thing for me, right? but why? i can recognize anyone by their voice, and i sure as hell didn’t recognize him. how can he like someone who has no idea of who he is? i’m weirded out by this whole situation. i wanted to tell ningning, my mom, and obviously the cops but it didn’t feel safe. i was scared of what that guy would do if i did, so i decided not to tell anyone about it. i felt extremely bored tho. i didn’t like sitting in my room all day, i needed some fresh air. it was already dark outside but i didn’t mind. i really enjoy going on night walks. i made my way downstairs before putting on my sneakers and heading out. i was still wearing my pajamas, i didn’t think it was a problem since i’d probably end up walking for like 5 minutes before turning back. i found comfort in the silence and nature, but as i made my way down this dark pathway i started feeling weird, like i was being watched or maybe even followed. no, i was definitely being paranoid. it’s late at night and i’m on my own so of course those thoughts will start taking over. i quickly turned around when i heard the sound of footsteps that weren’t mine, this was really starting to creep me out. i could barley see anything due to the darkness, i was now sure that i wasn’t on my own. i wanted to turn around and go back home, but i heard the footsteps coming from behind me so i couldn’t. i decided to walk faster and further down the pathway, i didn’t know where it would lead me since i had never been here before, but i was willing to take the chance. i was hoping i misheard and that there were no footsteps, but when i heard them again and this time closer to me, i panicked and instead started running. i felt myself getting out of breath, i needed to stop running. i looked behind me and saw absolutely no one. i stopped running and took a few seconds to catch my breath. “you’re a fast runner” i jumped at the sound of a guy’s voice. i turned around to see a tall figure standing over me, i felt extremely terrified at that moment. but wait, his voice. i’ve heard it before. who’s voice was it? … it can’t be. before i got the chance to start screaming for help, my mouth was quickly covered with a cloth by the guy. i yelped into the cloth and tried to get away from him by pushing at his chest, but i felt myself getting tired out of nowhere. “shh. don’t be scared, pretty” i could feel him wrap his arm around my waist and pull me closer to him, and before i knew it.. i had lost consciousness.

finally, heeseung thought to himself. she was right there, unconscious in his arms. she looked so pretty like this, weak and helpless. he removed the cloth from her mouth and placed it in his pocket, he then lifted her chin up so he could get a better look at her. “what a beauty..” he couldn’t hold back, he needed to feel her. even if it was just for a second. he leaned in closer, and the second his lips touched hers, he moaned into her mouth. he pulled away after he had felt his lips on hers, that was all he needed for now. he had one arm around her waist and brought the other one under her legs so he could lift her up. he walked all the way over to his car before opening the trunk and slowly placing her down. he took a moment to admire her beauty before placing a kiss on her forehead. he closed the trunk and got into the driver’s seat. she was finally his.

my back felt extremely uncomfortable. i blinked a few times before i was finally able to fully open my eyes. i was laying on the cold hard floor, no wonder my back was hurting. i looked around and saw nothing familiar, where was i? i tried standing up, but my legs felt numb. i remained sat on the floor while i was looking around trying to figure out where i was. how did i even get here? i don’t remember anything. maybe this is all just a dream- i turned around when i heard the sound of a door creaking, i watched this tall unfamiliar guy walk in. i could barley see his face. “look who’s finally awake” he crouched down in front of me, but i moved backwards until i felt my back hit the wall. i was scared of him, i didn’t know who this random guy was. did he put me in here? he chuckled before he moved closer to me. “are you scared of me?” he leaned down until his lips were almost touching mine. i lied and shook my head. he hummed while he brought his hand up to put a strand of hair behind my ear that was in front of my face. “you’re lying” he said, his eyes looking right into mine. his eyes alone were intimidating. i shook my head once again, no words leaving my mouth. he tilted his head slightly. his eyes looked away from mine, he was now looking down at something. but what? i followed his eyes and noticed how he was staring down at my chest. i quickly covered myself with my hand which made him look back up at me. “it’s okay. you don’t have to be shy around me” he grabbed my hand and forcefully removed it so that my chest was revealed to him again. i saw him biting his lip, and the sight of it made me sick. “please-“ that was the first word that came out of my mouth. i watched him furrow his eyebrows at me. “please don’t do anything to me..” a smile appeared on his face. what was he smiling about? “i’m sorry, pretty. you’re too good for me to resist” i gasped when i felt his cold hand sneak up from under my shirt. he grabbed my boob and squeezed it before he pinched at my nipple. i whimpered at the pain, but he seemed to like that. “shit. make that sound again” i shook my head. he was a disgusting pervert, i wasn’t going to listen to him. “no?” he questioned, removing his hand from underneath my shirt. “no” i mumbled. he didn’t say anything, he just leaned down and hid his face in the crook of my neck.

i was confused until i felt him placing small kisses down my neck. i felt his hand traveling down to my thigh and squeezing it. i felt like this was going somewhere, and since i had never experienced anything like that i needed to stop him. “i’ve never been with anyone before..” i blurted out. he stopped kissing my neck and lifted his head up to look at me. “i know” he said. he knows? how does he know? “i’ll go easy on you. don’t worry” he leaned in, his face getting closer to mine. was he gonna kiss me? i quickly turned my head so that his lips missed mine, but he didn’t seem too happy about that. he grabbed me by my chin and forced me to look at him. “don’t resist me. i wouldn’t want to hurt you” before i could react, he forcefully smashed his lips onto mine. i felt his tongue enter my mouth, i had never kissed anyone like this before. but since i didn’t want him to hurt me, i was forced to kiss him back even tho i didn’t know how to. when he finally pulled away to catch his breath, there was a smile on his lips. “i advise you to listen to me and do what i say. if you don’t, i’ll get angry. and i do bad things when i’m angry” his hand was still holding my chin while he was looking at me. “okay?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at me. i nodded which made him remove the grip he had on my chin. he got back up on his feet and was now looking down at me. “unfortunately, i can’t trust you yet. you’ll still have to stay down here until i can” how long was he gonna keep me here for? i didn’t like the thought of being left here on my own. i just want to go home. “you can’t stay down here with me..?” i asked in a shaky voice. he smiled down at me, “as much as i’d love to, i’ve got plans for us to make”

taglist: @simjungwon (lmk if u want me to tag u)

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

OMG how about a small time villain wondering why shoto or hawks is always on their tail like there are other villains worse than me why do u keep chasing me?

Pairing: Yandere Shoto Todoroki x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

WARNINGS: --

AN: I hope you like this, tried my best! 😊

–

“I didn’t take anything!”

You cross your arms in front of your chest, huffing with annoyance and a tinge of humiliation.

It’s frankly embarrassing to be caught red-handed while trying to sneak a few pieces of pricey jewelry onto your purse. It was supposed to be easy. 

The old jeweler was already distracted with some lovey-dovey couple seeking for their engagement rings, so he barely paid you any attention aside from a few quick glances, too busy helping out his clients.

You were almost successful, if it weren’t for the stupid two-toned hair hero. 

“You were stealing.” 

You roll your eyes, hands defiantly placed on your hips. 

“Was not. I was only looking.” the lie naturally flows from your lips, “Was thinking about buying a diamond bracelet. For someone special, if I must say.” 

Another lie, but since you’re almost certain of the Pro Hero’s crush on you, you tease him in hopes to distract him from booking you.

He hasn’t taken you into police custody so far, despite the numerous times he’s caught you in the middle of stealing. And you certainly don’t want to go to jail anytime soon.

He’s not really your type - too nice and too good to catch your interest, but you play with him anyways.

Dating a Pro Hero could bring so many benefits into life. The thought of all the money he must earn in a single month makes water rise to your mouth.

Todoroki’s eyes squint, brows wrinkling. 

“I… wasn’t aware you had a boyfriend.” his voice comes out gruff, deeper than the usual, and you almost smirk at that. 

You shrug your shoulders, picking on a chipped nail. 

“I don’t. The special guy hasn’t asked me out yet.” you slump your shoulders, a sad expression on your face.

“.Oh...who is he?” 

“A Pro Hero.” you look at him with not-so-subtle adoration, “He’s in the Top 5 and he’s really amazing. Always helps a girl out when she needs it, you know? I’m just hoping he might like me back.” 

A shade of pink dusts Todoroki’s cheeks and he blinks quickly. You’re almost surprised he was able to catch your hint, usually he’s as dense as a rock.

You open your lips to keep going, but his phone shrieks and Todoroki begrudgingly takes the call. You smile at him, twirling a strand of hair in your finger, noticing how his eyes keep glancing at you as he speaks. 

“Yes. Alright. I’ll be there in five.” 

With that, he ends the call.

“Oh, you have to go?” you fake a pout. On the inside, you’re rejoicing. 

He hesitates, mouth opening and closing despite no words coming out. It’s an awkward moment but he quickly regains his usual expressionless stance, looking at you. 

“I… don’t have time to take you into custody right now. But this shouldn't be repeated, okay? Being a villain isn’t something a girl like yourself should be doing.” you nod solemnly, almost burning with irritation but somehow managing to pull your face into the perfect painting of regret. 

He looks at you, swallowing heavily before speaking. 

“...and I hope that special guy asks you out soon.”

[world0fmadness]

BLACK AND WHITE BEAUTY

toto wolff x vintage fashion! model! wife! reader

♡ general married headcanons for toto with a vintage fashion model partner!

୨୧ finally got around to making headcanons related to the smau <3

♡ related smau available here | view my formula 1 masterlist here

reading music recommendations: hug me kiss me love me by helen kane - red hot by billy the kid emerson - a fine romance by marilyn monroe

♡ toto is just the absolute best husband to have as a vintage loving woman!

୨୧ he’s very old time romantic, he lives just to spoil you and take you on expensive but romantic dates

♡ but those aren’t the only type of dates he takes you on! oh no!

୨୧ he loves taking you to history museums and art galleries! you guys walk through them hand in hand, pointing to things and holding quiet conversations about them after reading the attached information plaque, he always leaves these dates recommending the place to all of his friends, telling them how much his wife loved it

♡ speaking of spoiling, he buys you anything and everything you could ever want!

୨୧ oh what’s that? a pair of gorgeous vintage diamond earrings are going for auction? well, you better take his card!

♡ he’s always surprising you with new jewellery, clothes and other knick knacks, often leaving them wrapped beautifully in a box on your shared bed for you to find <3

“ ah, that! yes, i saw it in a store today and i thought you would like it, do you? no, it wasn’t too expensive, don’t worry about that, schön! ” ( it was absolutely too expensive but he won’t tell you that and nothing is actually too expensive to him if it means he gets to see your smile )

୨୧ i can see toto really getting into watching old movies with you too! he really immerses into the plot line and characters

♡ you often watch movies together in the living room, you’re curled up into his side with one of his arms thrown around you and his chin resting on your head whilst your eyes are glued to the screen

୨୧ if you mention wanting to go grab a drink or some snacks, don’t you even dare try to get up! he’ll go and get it for you, just be sure to pause the movie because he doesn’t want to miss anything…

♡ if you wear hair curlers to bed so that your hair will be full in the morning, he absolutely helps you with them!

୨୧ he’ll stand behind you as you sit at your vanity, helping you hold and part your hair correctly whilst sending you a cheeky smile and a wink in the mirror when you meet his eyes

♡ he helps you take them out in the morning too, i just know he’d be SO gentle with it, pulling them slowly and making sure they don’t pull painfully and none of your hair is tangled

୨୧ after like, two years of you guys dating, he surprises you with a vintage car you’d been dreaming of owning since you were a kid but could never purchase because even as a model it was just a little out of your price range and pretty hard to come across

♡ but toto found it, he’d find anything if it would make you happy and he’d get to see your beaming smile

୨୧ he’ll never tell you how he found it and managed to snag it but you take a guess that it’s because of his connections in the car industry…

♡ and when you guys got married, the “ just married ” drive off was in that same car <3

୨୧ speaking of your guys’ wedding, oh my god was that a dream

♡ he went all OUT for your wedding, wanting you to have the dream wedding, the wedding you’d fantasised about having for years

୨୧ everything you wanted at your wedding was there, no matter how expensive!

♡ a lot of your wedding was very reminiscent of rich vintage weddings, a beautiful wedding dress with a short train, your hair done perfectly and your makeup as bright as your smile

୨୧ but toto does not do the infamous cake face smash, absolutely not! he can tell you’re extremely happy with your hair and makeup, he doesn’t want to ruin that for you and respects you

♡ so he simply dips his finger in the icing and smears a tiny bit on your nose as you giggle and do the same to him before sharing another kiss

୨୧ when he’s as rich as he is, why wouldn’t he give his liebling her perfect wedding day?

♡ toto will come with you to photoshoots whenever he can, always standing with his arms crossed and a boyish smirk on his face as he admires you performing different poses

୨୧ when you ask for his opinion on an outfit for a shoot, he’s sooo… god, i don’t even know how to explain it! he’s almost completely mesmerised by you, speaking quietly as he just can’t stop running his eyes across your body and face, still finding it hard to believe this is the beauty he gets to call his wife

“ you look amazing, schön… you always look so beautiful, you know this, yes? my beauty ” ( with the amount of compliments he sends you every minute of every day? yes, you definitely know )

♡ the amount of photos that exist of him where he’s standing in the mercedes’ staff area with a big lipstick mark on his cheek is insane…

୨୧ there’s SO many of them circulating on social media! sometimes because he simply doesn’t realise the print is there and other times because he simply doesn’t care to remove it, wearing it almost like a mark of pride

♡ and people notice that whenever you’re in the paddock, he’s much less easily angered!

୨୧ he does not like losing control of his anger in front of you at all and will always suppress it the best he can, being settled by your soft hands massaging his shoulder-blades and your voice whispering assuring words to him

“ thank you, schön… yes, i’m okay… don’t worry, you want to go and get some lunch? a tea, maybe? come, let’s go ” ( he lets out a deep chuckle when watching you drink, admiring how to drink so carefully as to not ruin your perfect lipstick )

♡ the number of flower bouquets you get from toto is enough to rival a flower shop! he gives you one nearly every single day and you have so many vases in your home due to it

୨୧ he just knows you really love how romantic flowers are and when your eyes light up as they land upon the new bouquet he’s extending towards you, it fills his heart with the strongest sense of love

♡ due to you almost always wearing heels, toto is very attentive when it comes to pampering you!

୨୧ he’ll give you a foot massage any day, just give him the word! or don’t, he’ll probably still massage your feet for you without even having to ask

♡ you become pretty close with basically the whole mercedes team! always baking them cookies and other treats, either taking them to them yourself when you can join toto or making toto take them and promise you he won’t eat them all himself in his office

୨୧ lewis and george are especially big fans of you and your cookies! you’ve stopped toto from raging out on them more times than they can count which they’re already more than thankful for but your baked goods too? you’re an angel to them, sent straight from the highest peak in heaven to feed them well and save them from your husbands wrath

♡ toto absolutely ADORES how minimal your makeup is! always going with very neutral tones and calm colours <3

୨୧ he honestly just loves watching you get ready, sitting on the bed and fixing the cuffs of his neat white button up shirt whilst his soft eyes follow you as you perform your usual morning routine around the bedroom

♡ you’ll always know he’s watching, feeling his big brown eyes on you and ask him for his opinion on how you should have your hair and what type of eyeshadow you should do today before he comes up to you for a better look at the options

୨୧ this man is the BIGGEST fan of dancing with you whilst you try to bake in the kitchen, he’ll put on some jazz and come up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist, swaying softly before gently pulling you away from some cookie dough and taking your hand in his

♡ toto loves spinning and dipping you, leaning down for a soft kiss when you’re dipped back against his arm, it makes you laugh a lot and to him that’s the most heavenly sound in the world…

[deepdisireslonging]

Reassurance

Bruce and the Reader are kidnapped by Two-Face. Their kidnapper wants to make the Batman choose, unknowing that the Batman who shows up isn’t the one he expected. After being rescued, Bruce reassures you and himself that you two are safe. Which is something he needs after being completely helpless to do anything to protect you.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reporter!Reader

Warnings/Promises: canon-level danger and violence, near-death experience, angst, SMUT, oral (female receiving), overstimulation, fluff

Word Count: 3500

Note: This heavily reliant on the events of the Dark Knight trilogy. As well as being inspired by the 1995 “Batman Forever” situation with that version of Harvey Dent. It’s a bunch of plot for the express purpose of getting Bruce Wayne into ravenous, desperate smut with his lady-love. With that in mind, happy reading!

It had all happened so fast.

One minute, Bruce had been giving a toast. It had been another successful fundraiser downtown. The next, guns were stuttering and the guests were pressed against the floor as their valuables were removed. You were separated from the diamond bracelet Bruce had given you last Christmas. And Bruce hesitantly gave away his father’s signet ring. (But at ease knowing it was a replica. As was your bracelet.)

Two Face strode through the room. He paused between you and Bruce. With his charred face, he glared at you. You with your constant stream of news releases and exposés that kept uncovering his plans. And you, always able to evade him, until tonight. With his unblemished face, contorted with hate, he glared down at Bruce.

“Harvey –” he tried.

“Shut up!” Harvey Dent aimed his gun at Bruce’s chest. In his other hand, his fingers twiddled his fateful coin. He didn’t toss it. With a growl, he shot the ceiling instead. “Come on, before the Bat gets here. Bring both of ‘em with us.”

Bruce had pleaded with him to leave you there, playing up his more cowardly public image. He begged for them to come up with a different solution. And with a wave of his hand, Two Face ordered them to gag him.

There would be no resolution. No peace. Not until Two Face had what he wanted. 

***

One of these days you were really going to have to talk with Bruce and the city council members about how many abandoned warehouses there were in Gotham.

You couldn’t budge. The ropes around your arms and legs, tying you to the chair, were too tight. At least you could breathe. A few feet from you, Bruce was tied up in a similar way, but still gagged. Unmoving and observant as he was, you could still see that he was uneasy. He kept glancing between you and Harvey.

The walls of the warehouse were practically gone. The one remaining concrete walkway you were on was at least four stories up, with only rubble on the ground-floor below. Two Face stared off into the distance as if he could watch Batman’s approach in the darkness. The make-shift Bat-signal he’d rigged together sat at his feet.

Only Bruce wasn’t startled when Batman showed up from the opposite direction.

“What is this about, Dent?”

Harvey turned slow, his unburnt side making eye-contact first, before he glared at Batman fully with both halves of his face. “Does this situation look familiar to you?”

You wondered if it was Jason or Dick under the mask. Neither of them had been in the life yet when Harvey Dent had fallen into working as Two Face. But Bruce’s thorough report of that night wasn’t too hard to find on the Bat-computer after a few hours of digging. When “Batman” nodded, you knew it was Dick. Part of you already knew your fate was sealed.

“The two of them had nothing to do with that night.”

“No, that’s true.” Dent took to flipping the coin. Up and down. Catching and flipping. The coin landed flat in his palm, unread and unacted upon. He grinned at you with his burned face as each flip made you shudder. “But each has… cost me greatly here of late. Instead of flipping a coin for each of them and being done with it, I thought this time I could give the choice to you.” Dent caught his coin and gripped it tight. “With half a chance, would you change the choice you made that night?”

Dick/Batman hesitated before answering. “Nothing about this is like that night. We both know now that the Joker lied to me, switching where each of you were. He’s bragged about it to you himself. As for Rachel—”

“Don’t.” Both sides of Dent’s face twitched with rage. He hissed, “you don’t get to say her name.” Sucked through gritted teeth, the breaths he took made his chest heave. A final sigh leveled out his control. “We were on opposite sides of town that night. The two of them are right here. Maybe you can save both. Maybe not. Which will it be? Heads: Bruce Wayne. Billionare playboy with more brains than he shows to the media. How many hospitals, grants, scholarships has he funded over the years?” Dent flipped the coin a couple of times. “How many suits has he replaced for you?”

“I don’t know what you’re implying—”

“I know Wayne tech when I see it. Don’t try to deny it.” Dent shifted his focus to you, making you flinch back in your seat.

As a young reporter you’d attended the funeral of Rachel Dawe. She’d been a role model for you. But this was the last second on earth that you’d mention that in front of him. You breathed a sigh of relief as he faced Dick.

“Or heads: the reporter. A lifetime ago, she would have been a huge help to my cause. What the courts couldn’t decide fast enough, she could write and share with the world the research we all needed to hear. As she’s doing now. She’s your source of information, isn’t she? Isn’t she!” He grimaced. “Time to choose.”

At his feet, Dent kicked at a device bolted to the floor. On second glance, you noticed the wires traveling through holes bored into the concrete. They led under your chair, and another set ran under Bruce’s. Your eyes widened as you noticed the collection of explosives poking out from under the edge of the walkway… right behind his chair. You assumed you had a set too. Both of them ready to crumble your square of concrete towards the rubble below. Or to blow you to kingdom come the second Dent stepped on the device to set off the charges.

Dick slowly moved his hand toward his tactical belt. “Your men are on the bottom floor. Right under us. If you set that off, this floor will crush them. You yourself will have nothing left to stand on. It looks like the choice is yours: eliminating two thorns in your side, or being able to continue your business ventures.”

A slick smile slid across Dent’s face. “I made my choice years ago. As for my men… they made their choice when they accepted pay from me.”

“Dent—” In a very Nightwing motion, he held his palms out before returning them to his side to hold the stoic Batman pose.

“It’s Two Face. And would you point out the same double-sided leadership to your protégé turned ‘businessman,’ Red Hood? How is his war in weapon sales going against Black Mask these days? I’m tired of this.” Dent stepped forward, placing the toe of his patent-leather shoe on top of the device. “Ready to make your choice?”

Dick’s glance flicked towards Bruce first, who furiously shook his head. When he looked at you, you slowly shook your head. “It’s okay. Bruce Wayne can do more in one night,” your voice cracked, “one night of fundraising than I can do with ten stories. It’s okay.” As Bruce struggled in his bonds, tears began to course down your cheeks. You knew when those charges blew, he’d only be able to race gravity for one of you. And Bruce Wayne, the billionaire and the real soul of the Batman; he was more important to the future of Gotham than you.

As the charges fired, Bruce screamed behind his gag.

The ground fell out from under you. It was no surprise when the dark black blur darted away from you to fall over the opposite edge. Even so, you screamed out your fear, your pain, your goodbye. Only for it to cut off mere feet from the bottom as a blue blur snagged you out of the air. Your scream turned to frantic laughter. It took some effort, flying through the air as you were, but “Nightwing” (who had to be Jason) was able to cut the ropes so the chair dropped to the earth. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I thought you were supposed to be in Blüdhaven.”

Your rescuer alighted next to the Batmobile, where Dick was just landing with Bruce. The brothers shared that Two-Face’s goons had been collected long before Dick had shown up and were on their way with Damian to Commissioner Gordon. Two Face had been harnessed into the ceiling. It had lifted him out of danger and ensured his get-away. Dick smiled under the cowl.

Jason glared at his brother-in-arms. “Say nothing.”

“Blue looks good on you.”

They would have bickered longer, but Bruce darted between them. He held you fast in his arms. He kept patting you down, searching for anywhere you could be hurt.

“Darling, I’m alright.”

“Couldn’t do anything.” He glared at Dick. “You scared the hell out of me, not going after her.”

Dick’s jaw clenched. But he managed not to break eye-contact. “Red Hood was already on her side of the building. We were in constant communication throughout. Neither of you were in any danger of the fall.”

With the way Bruce’s shoulders were still tense, he didn’t seem to fully believe that. You knew he trusted his sons totally. But tonight had cut close. You smoothed your thumbs across his cheeks. “Let’s go home.”

Apologetically, Dick tried to say, “there’s not a back seat. Red was going to—”

“We’ll manage.”

Bruce sat in the passenger seat first, and you sat on his lap. All the way home, he ran his hands over your limbs, still checking you over. And his eyes kept flicking to the road. To the  dials and buttons on the dash as they flashed. To Dick as he drove, still in his cowl and cape. And all the way home, you did your best to put him at ease. Your blood was still pumping and your nerves were alight, but you ran your fingers through his hair. Ran your forefinger down his nose and cheeks. You pressed your forehead to his. As much skin contact as you could give him, you gave. As much calm as you could give him, you borrowed back.

Wayne Manor eventually loomed. Dick let you two out at the door. If anyone asked for it, the front cameras would provide visual evidence that you had been returned by the Batman. He drove off in a scuttle of gravel after watching Alfred let you into the house.

“We’re alright, Alfred.” You managed to wave him back to bed before Bruce lifted you in his arms and carried you up the stairs.

Thankfully, he waited until Alfred was long out of sight before sitting you down on a random hall table and latching his lips onto your pulse point.

“Can’t you get us to the bedroom?” You smiled through his kisses. “The boys could walk through and…”

“It’s my house.” Bruce shed his jacket and dress shirt, and he began fumbling with the hem of your dress. “I can ravage you where I want… where and when I need to.”

Still, he froze as your hand spread across his bare chest. “I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t tell Dick to save you instead of me.” He panted. Sweat was beaded across his brow. “I can’t do this without you. Not anymore.”

“You have me.” You kissed him. “You’ll always have me.” Hugging him close, you cried into the crook of his neck.

Batman hadn’t been able to save both Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawe that night. In the end, he still lost both. The choice, distorted as it was by the Joker, still weighed on him. The guilt had woken him up many a night. Like with every nightmare, you soothed him back to sleep. He was constantly afraid that he’d lose you like his childhood friend. Always afraid that he’d be out on patrol and some underworld power would grab you. No ransom would be too high for Bruce Wayne. No number of obstacles would be too much for Batman. What if he was a second too slow? What if the money wasn’t the point, and they harmed you anyway? What if… The what-ifs swirled in his mind constantly. They were swirling now, blinding him to anything but feeling you safe in his arms.

As for you? You still stood by what you told Dick to do. Nothing could change it. And you stood by your promise to always be with Bruce, even if only in memory should the worst occur. In your mind, he had been Batman long before he met you. He could be Batman long after you’d gone. You swallowed the lump in your throat, ignoring that fateful possibility. He had you. Here. Now. Home and safe. In his arms.

“You’ve got me,” you whispered. “We’re alright. I’m okay.”

Before you could say another word, his lips were on yours and his hands were smoothing up your thighs. You rolled your hips forward, and wrapped your legs around his thick torso. You knew every muscle. Every scar. And every bruise long after they’d faded. Bruce ran his hands over your body, feeling your form still trapped under your dress. He knew the same points about you. Every muscle honed from self-defense training with Damian. Every papercut and bruise from archive drawers. And every inch of skin that he’d kissed a thousand times before. He couldn’t get enough.

You laughed as your dress ripped, pulled apart at the seams by a desperate man. His hunger paused as he finally saw the surprise you’d had in store. The entirely black set was your gift to him last Valentine’s Day. He trailed his fingers over the lace on your breasts before diving his face between them. You arched, digging your fingers into his hair. While he left open-mouthed kisses across your chest, you whispered as much comfort as you could. But your ability to speak was quickly degrading into soft moans and whines.

You wanted to be held. You wanted to be held so tight you could barely breathe. You wanted the space to wrap yourself around him like a snake looking for heat. Only his body would be able to warm the shiver out of your spine.

When you sighed as much, he only grunted.

He was lost in you. Lost to the word and the weight of it’s brokenness.

You were home. You were safe. You were in his arms. Skin to skin wasn’t enough anymore. Now he needed to be in you.

Bruce’s wandering touch finally drifted down across your tummy to the apex of your thighs. His fingers curled through the gap in the crotch of your panties. The wetness there made his knees give out. Face level with his target, he dove in, more hungry and hazy-eyed than when he kissed the valley of your breasts. While he ate you out, you gripped the back of his head, steadied yourself on the wall behind you, gripped the edge of the hall table, and you held onto anything you could while your vision blurred. One finger, two fingers curled while his tongue did the rest. He sucked hard on your clit, nearly toppling off your seat. Bruce took advantage of your folded position and hefted you over his shoulder.

Trapped there, you could do nothing but writhe as he continued to play with your wetness as he carried you down the hall. The fancy dress was left in shreds on the floor. You clenched on his fingers. With a growl, he dropped you to your feet. He pinned you to the wall, pressing close. Where your nails clawed into his shoulders, rough and desperate, his kisses to the underside of your jaw were soft and languorous. On the other hand, he never stopped wringing pleasure out of you by quickening the curling of his fingers. His thumb circled on your clit, weakening your knees. But he wouldn’t let you fall. The press of his body over yours was what he needed.

“You’re mine. You’re safe.” He hovered his lips over yours. “Tell me: how are you?”

Now? Your mind reeled. But every time you were about to answer, he’d change the pace of his fingers, or scissor you open, or change the direction of his thumb on your clit. Then your mind would blur. And speech left you. Finally, you managed, “you bastard.”

He smiled against your mouth. “Good.” If you could sass him, then you were completely at ease. His tongue curled into your mouth.

You accepted it, sucking on it like your walls were clamping down on his fingers. But as he quickened both, your breath stuttered. Your nails carved deep half moons into his skin as your body convulsed. Pinned to the wall, your body had nowhere to go as you shivered head to toe. Pinned back, you had nowhere to go when Bruce kept moving through your release. Your mouth fell open, panting with the onslaught of pleasure.

Bruce grinned against your cheek. Once again, he picked you up. This time, he wrapped your legs around his waist. He finished the journey to the master bedroom. When he laid you down, you were still hazy with release. It gave him time to rake his gaze across you again. He took in the heaving of your breasts in the lingerie you picked out. And the way your thighs tried to cover up the mess he’d made of you already. The only remnant of the fancy evening were your heels. Nearly passed out on his bed, there was nothing left of what Dent tried to do to you. He frowned. On second glance, your wrists were beginning to bruise.

From under your fluttering lashes, you took time to look him over too. How his torso shimmered with that fine layer of sweat. How his hair was mussed and his gaze was wild for you. But from the waist down, he was still presentation ready. Give or take the muddy patches on his suit pants.

“You’re wearing too much,” you said.

The frown shifted into a smirk. Slowly, he began to undo his belt. He leaned one way, then the other, as he removed his shoes. With a bit of shimmying, he bared every inch of skin for your view. He slid his hand into the one you reached towards him. His grip between your fingers was just short of painful. Carefully, he loomed over you, pupils blown wide, and his breathing heavy. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Please, Bruce.” You closed your eyes as he slowly sheathed into you. A tiny whimper slipped out as he gripped your wrists, pinning them to the sheets on either side of your head.

When he moved, it was like he was trying to relearn you. Each twist and spear of his hips searching out your sweet spots reassured him that you were the same woman who had woken up by his side that morning. You were the same woman who took days or weeks to research an article topic, only to type it up an hour before the due date. Your cries were the same. How you moaned his name was the same. You were the same woman who walked into his life and immediately made it better.

He was the same man as that morning too. Even after a night of keeping Gotham safe, he could aways make you forget your own name. But you remembered his. Every drag and spear that made you quake brought it up like a talisman. Here was the man who knew your every worry. He listened to your every ramble and collection of convoluted theories for hours. And he came back to you. Triumphant or bloody and bruised, he always came back. Right now, he was replacing the bruises on your wrists with his own. And he was replacing the worries in your mind with nerve-blinding pleasure.

“Darling,” you keened, “please. So close.” You didn’t say you needed him. Or that you needed him to do anything, even to cum. He was taking what he needed from you.

Bruce pressed his forehead to yours. “Look at me.” He pleaded, “look at me, please.”

Taking a deep breath, you forced your eyes open. And you almost collapsed under the desire in his gaze.

He turned his hips in that certain way, and you did collapse. Crying out his name and clawing the air, your body seized. Bruce stuttered and moaned, held in place by your walls and by the sight of you falling apart beneath him. He filled you. Thrusting to chase those last sparks of release, he hummed your name.

Finally, he pulled out and fell next to you on the bed. You curled into his warmth with his chest against your back. When his arm draped across your hip, you smiled.

“Darling?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

Bruce pressed his nose into the spot right behind your ear. He inhaled deeply. “We’re okay.” “Yes. We’re okay.”

***

General Masterlist

DC Masterlist

More smutty goodness with Bruce Wayne: A Night at the Theater

[sdr2lovemail]

Saw your request open for reverse 1999! I not sure what characters you do but could you do smt like troop??idk what it call but basically 'someone ask them if you two are together despite havent establish relationships yet' for medicine pocket, dikke, and tooth fairy? What their reaction and response? If it too much you can cut it down sorry

Oblivious Encounters (GN Reader)

Synopsis: These lovely arcanists are in love and it's obvious to everyone but them.

Notes: I love oblivious pining, a wonderful trope. I'm still trying to get my footing with characters, but I will write for anyone, including NPCs! She/They pronouns are used for Medicine Pocket

Requests are open!

Medicine Pocket:

Parallel play. The act of being alone together. Some people find the best way to spend time with others is to do their own thing. 

Next to you, Medicine Pocket scribbles away in their notebook. Ever since the two of you had entered Vertin’s suitcase, her documenting has gotten way more intense. There wasn’t anyone here to dampen the experiments, so Medi was thriving.

You both sit at a table near the window, the setting sun providing just enough light. It had been a few hours since either of you had spoken, finding peace in the silence. Periodically, Med would slide their notebook over for you to read. They didn’t even want any comments on their work. She just wanted to ensure you were ready for the incoming info dump they would give you. What fun is telling someone about your experiments if they’re just going to be lost the whole time?

Amid the comfortable silence, breaking the serene atmosphere, was a shrill voice.

“No! The great Matilda is never wrong, and I will prove I am correct!” The bright-eyed girl was quick with her pace, making it over to the table in just a few strides. With one hand on the table, she leans in close. “How long has this courtship gone on?”

There’s an almost comedic pause.

“What?” Medicine Pocket cocked their head.

Matilda rests her hands on her hips, tilting her head with a sly smirk. “I know a relationship when I see one. But the question is how long it’s been going on.” 

It’s Medi’s turn to smirk as they respond before you can answer. “What amazing observational skills. Now tell me, just how did you figure us out?”

“Hmhmhm! Matilda always knows! And it was so obvious.” She laughed.

“Ohhh, was it now?” Medi smiled wide, those sharp teeth on display in a wolfish grin. As you are about to correct Matilda on your relationship, the scientist kicks you under the table, itching to see how this plays out.

“The note sharing, for one. You are so stingy when it comes to sharing. Those longing silences the two of you enjoy. The way you’re always together. There is no hiding it from me!” 

You can feel your face grow warmer. Was this romantic? Did people really think that you and Medicine Pocket are together? And was that actually a problem for you?

With a laugh, Medicine Pocket shrugged her shoulders. “Huh, I didn’t think we were that obvious. You figured us out, Matilda. We’ve been courting for a few months now. Obviously, I was the one to start it. They were too flustered even to look my way.” 

“Medicine Pocket!” You chastised, face flushing further.

“See, that’s my beloved, always so embarrassed.” Medi reached over the table to take your hand in her gloved ones.

“I knew it! Vertin owes me money!” The energetic girl ran off to find the others and her new source of cash.

Pulling your hand away from the smirking doctor, you let out a groan. “Why would you tell her that? She’s going to tell everyone.”

“I wanted to see what would happen. We are practically dating anyway.” They shrugged, acting way too nonchalant.

Dikke:

Dikke enjoyed gossip. Well, not just gossiping. She enjoyed listening to others talk about anything. Hearing people engage in idle chatter was an oddly calming pastime for her. However, she couldn’t say it was truthful when the talk of the suitcase was about her. 

“Wouldn’t you like to buy your love some diamonds? I have quite the assortment. Necklaces, rings, anything that is sure to charm your lady.” 

Oh, how that scammer’s voice irked Dikke. She was about to move, wanting to read somewhere quiet, but she heard another voice. One she held dearly.

“Oh, I’m sure the selection of diamonds is… lovely. But I don’t have anyone to give jewelry to.” You answered curiously, unsure of what she was talking about.

Tennant let out a chuckle, brushing her hand against your cheek. “There’s no need to be so coy. I know the judge has stolen your heart.” She knew Dikke was watching. She wanted to rile her up and get a reaction. It would be fun to watch someone so proper get a bit angry.

Dikke rises from her seat, walking over to you and Tennant with quick steps. Her face looks more than displeased. 

“Why hello there, judge. To what do we owe the pleasure?” Tennant smirked, knowing she got what she wanted.

Her gaze practically bore through the blond woman’s body. The grip on her sword unconsciously grows tighter. “Thou should watch what drivel leaves thine mouth.” 

“My, what harsh words. Calling your own relationship drivel.” Tennant runs a single finger down your arm with a borderline mocking frown. “I would never treat you that way, dear.”

It was quick. You barely saw when it happened. Dikke swiped the hand off you in an almost uncharacteristic act of jealousy. “Perhaps thou should mind thy own affairs.” Before there could even be a response, Dikke speaks once more. “Enough of this. Leave us.” 

Figuring there was no point in taunting her further, Tennant leaves. Not without dragging her hand along your back, wanting to give Dikke one last teasing parting gift.

“I’m so sorry about that, Dikke. You know how Tennant can be sometimes.” You apologized with a sheepish smile. While you felt like you were just seeing things, her cheeks seemed slightly pink.

With the pest out of her hair, Dikke’s eyes soften slightly. “Thou shouldn’t let rumors fester. Lest they form into something more sinister.” She bows her head towards you and departs, not to finish her book but to find you a present better than diamonds.

Tooth Fairy:

“There has been an incline of cavities at the Foundation. Perhaps I’ve been handing out too many toffees.” Tooth Fairy sighed as she shuffled through her examination papers. The corners of her lips tugged down in a near-invisible frown.

Walking over to her side of the medical wing, you lean over her shoulder, taking a peek. “I doubt it’s your toffees. The kids probably aren’t brushing as often as they say. I know they lie to me about where they get their scrapes and bruises.” 

“Was that a poor attempt at making me feel better?” If it were anyone else, they probably would’ve been hurt by that comment. However, as the Foundation’s current nurse, you spend a lot of your days with the dentist. You’ve learned to discern when she’s playing around from her usual tone.

You let out a puff of a laugh, lightly shoving her shoulder. “Speaking of toffee, you wouldn’t happen to have any on you, would you?” There’s a soft smile on your face as you hold out your hand.

There was a faint sound of squeaking leather as Tooth Fairy reached into her pocket. “You’ll be the one with cavities if I continue to spoil you with candies.” She hands you a sweet despite her words. Her gloved hand lingers on yours for a second too long, dainty fingers caressing your wrist as she presses the toffee into your palm.

“But you never say no.” You smiled while unwrapping the candy. After popping it into your mouth, you start to walk out of the office. “I have to go meet with Madam Z about some paperwork. I’ll see you at lunch.”

The way Tooth Fairy watched you leave was downright pining. Her gaze locked on the doorframe. Her eyes soon lower, seeing a certain silver-haired young lady.

“Excuse me, is the nurse here?”

“Hello, Ms. Vertin. I’m sorry, they just stepped out. Is there anything I can help you with?” Tooth Fairy asked as the small child sat on one of the medical beds.

Young Vertin casts her eyes to the floor, bringing a hand up to her head. “I’ve got a terrible headache. I wanted to ask for one of their remedies.”

Tooth Fairy smiled. It was the third time Vertin came complaining about a headache this week. She knew she just wanted sweets, but she couldn’t help but humor her once again. “Well, I happen to know where they keep their medicine.”

The dentist kneeled at your desk, opening the drawer to grab from your stash of lollipops.

“Are the two of you married?” Vertin asked, her head titling curiously.

Nearly dropping the lollipop, Tooth Fairy’s eyes widen a bit. It was an innocent question, but it still made her falter. “What makes you ask that?” Quickly regaining her composure, she hands Vertin the candy.

“When I read stories, the parents in the books act the way you do. They always spend time together and give each other gifts.” Vertin explained.

Tooth Fairy sits at her desk, watching the girl unwrap her sweet. “I see. No, we are not married. We are simply work acquaintances, nothing more.” 

Vertin nods before speaking again. “You two should get married. I could be the flower girl.”

“I… will have to discuss that with them. For now, you should be getting to class.” Tooth Fairy turned back towards her papers, hoping to hide her slightly flushed cheeks.

[munsonsmixtapes]

hi, for ur 1k thing

anthony, enemies to lovers and the 4th prompt? sorry if this is wrong i dont use tumblr a lot

You did it exactly right, lovely!

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

prompt used: “You’re a terrible influence.”

You had hated Anthony Bridgerton since the moment you laid eyes on him. Maybe it was the way he was the way his hair laid, or maybe it was the way he always knew how to push your buttons. Whatever it was, he just really got under your skin in a way that nobody else did. And you did the same to him. He absolutely despised you and the way that you spoke to him like you had no regard for his feelings whatsoever. And you didn’t.

Anytime you were together, you had to be separated because of how easy it was for you to argue. It was as if you couldn’t agree on anything. Every conversation was drenched in hatred, neither of you having a single kind thing to say to each other. No one knew what had initially caused the strife, but what they did know was that you absolutely could be not be in the same room together.

It was the start of the season and Queen Charlotte had thrown a ball in honor of it. Little did you know that she had her eye on you for her pick as the diamond. There was something about you that intrigued her. You always spoke your mind no matter what and that was something she admired. You seemed mature for your age, well, other than the silly feud with the Bridgerton boy, but she could easily nip that in the bud.

She watched you dance across the floor with the man who had asked you. You were all smiles as the two of you laughed together, trying to shush each other when you got too loud. Her gaze then moved to Anthony who was across the room, practically burning holes into the two of you because of how hard he was staring. Ah, so he was jealous.

Perhaps Anthony was jealous, but he’d never admit that. He’d never admit how you drove him absolutely crazy. How he wanted to pull you into the nearest room and have his way with you because he couldn’t help himself. Sure, he didn’t like you, but that was irrelevant when it came to his physical attraction to you. That was all it was. As soon as he was done with you, he knew the feeling would go away. At least, he hoped it would.

But as far as you were concerned, there was no attraction to Anthony whatsoever. You had always hated him and would continue to do so for the rest of your life. So what if he had hair that you wanted to run your fingers through? So what if his eyes were the most beautiful shade of brown you had ever seen? So what if you dreamed of his lips on yours every night. It wasn’t like you were actually going to act on your fantasies. Perhaps you had let his incredibly good looks overshadow just how rude he was.

You looked over your partner’s shoulders to look at Anthony only to see his eyes already on yours. If looks could kill, you definitely would have been dead. His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked like he was seconds away from marching over to you to have some words.

As soon as the song ended, he did just that, practically flying across the room because of how fast he was moving. He got to you just as your partner bid you goodbye with a bow. You turned around to get some lemonade when you almost bumped into Anthony, practically jumping out of your skin as you did so. You hadn’t even noticed he was there.

You looked up at him, seeing his eyes fill with a fire that was unrecognizable. He looked almost angry. But not the kind of angry that he usually was when it came to you. This one wasn’t nearly as intense. Without a word, he reached out and grabbed your hand, placing it on his shoulder before resting his on the small of your back before joining your free hands together. The two of you moved around the room with the other couples while you looked at anyone but him, his gaze still fixed on you.

The whole thing was so strange. Just days ago, he told you that you hated you with everything in him and now the two of you were dancing together? He hadn’t even asked either. He just took your hand and before you knew it, you were moving about the room to the music.

“What are we doing?” You finally asked and Anthony looked at you, confused, as if he didn’t understand your question.

“Dancing,” he said with a chuckled even though he knew exactly what you were asking.

“I mean, why are we dancing? You don’t like me.”

“Who said that?” An amused smirk kicked up at the corner of his mouth and you hated how cute you thought it was. How pink his lips were and how much you wanted them to be spittle between yours.

“You did? The other day. You told me that you hated me with everything that you were.” He had forgotten he said that. And honestly, that was probably the meanest thing he had ever said. But he didn’t hate you. Not at all. In fact, he was now realizing that he loved you. Perhaps the thing he hated was the fact that he’d never have you because you really did seem to hate him. It was clear in the way that you looked at him. Like he was the scum of the earth.

“I don’t hate you,” he said as he leaned down so that his lips were right by your ear. “In fact, all I can think about is how beautiful you look tonight. And just how much I want to see what you’re hiding underneath your dress.” Your cheeks burned at his words. Your skin was heating up as you imagined that exact thing: Anthony pulling off your dress and having his way with you like you had secretly been wanting for months now.

“You’re a terrible influence.”

“And you love it.”

If you had liked him and he had liked you, then what had the feud really been about? Was it the result of all of your pent up desire that was making you both so angry with each other? Well, no. At one point, you had actually hated him. There was just something that you couldn’t pinpoint that rubbed you the wrong way and now…well the dreams you had about him leaving Mayfair or falling off his horse were all now replaced with images of his lips on yours, his hands roaming all over your body.

You were getting hot, your face flushed as your mind with the images again. It was all wrong. So wrong. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about him in that way and if anyone could have seen your thoughts, they would surely have scolded for it.

You let go of Anthony and he looked at you with furrowed eyebrows because you seemed nervous and the song hadn’t even finished. Had he done something wrong? Had he embarrassed you? Whatever he had done, he wished he could have taken it back right then. He wanted to fix it.

“I’m sorry, Viscount Bridgerton, but I must go,” you curtsied. “Thank you for the lovely dance.” And with that, you made a dash for the garden, desperate for some fresh air and to get away from Anthony and your feelings for him.

Because if he wasn’t in your sight, if he wasn’t touching you then your feelings would cease…wouldn’t they? That was what you were hoping anyway. Out of sight out of mind as far as you were concerned.

But on your way to the garden, his words kept repeating in your head on a loop, echoing over and over. It was driving you mad, but you also didn’t want it to stop. You wanted him to whisper even more scandalous things into your ear, all of the things he wanted to do to you.

You entered the garden, rushing down the steps to get further into, hoping that no one was out there and that no one would find you either. You just need to be alone for a moment to clear your head. To catch your breath since Anthony seemed to have been stolen with his shocking words.

You didn’t care that it was pouring rain outside. That was far preferable to staying in the ballroom. It suddenly felt stuffy in there with it being filled with people. You didn’t know why you were making excuses when it was perfectly acceptable for you to tell Anthony that you didn’t want to see him. You didn’t care if he upset him. You hated him. You hated him. And that was the only feeling you’d ever have for him.

The rain poured down even more and you looked back just in time to see Anthony chasing after you and hurried down the steps, trying to move slowly since they seemed slippery. But he was gaining on you and you needed to get away as fast as possible.

“Leave me alone,” you called out, but he seemed to have not heard you. Either that or he was ignoring you. You were convinced that it was the latter.

Just as you were getting off the last step, your foot slipped. You let out a gasp and closed your eyes, bracing yourself for hitting the ground, but you never did. You opened your eyes and Benedict was staring down at you, a look of worry on his face.

“Falling for me, hm?” He asked, his signature teasing smirk forming on his lips. You were falling for him. And fast. And the way that he looked drenched in the rain that had fallen from the sky made you feel something that was foreign to you. He was…beautiful.

“Shut up,” you pushed his hands off of you as he helped you back on your feet. “Let’s go inside before we get sick.”

“No,” he grabbed onto your wrist and pulled you back. “I need to talk to you. Right now.”

“About what, Anthony?” You asked, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“About…us.” You paused. What could he have meant by that? Unless…no. There was absolutely no way.

You backed away from him, getting further into the rainfall, but that was the least of your worries. All you wanted to do was run. But you couldn’t. You tried to get away, but it was as if your feet were stuck, glued to where you were standing.

“I have despised you since the day we met,” Anthony said as he stepped forward, getting closer to you.

“Anthony-“

“I’m not done,” he interrupted you, stepping forward until you were only inches away from each other. He reached up and moved one of your soaked wet pieces of hair from your face, his hand resting on your cheek.

“I have liked you for a long time, but convinced myself that I hated you because I thought it would have been easier. Turns out it wasn’t.” He rested his other hand on the small of your back, pulling you to him so that your bodies were flush to each other.

“I don’t hate you. In fact, I feel the exact opposite.” You felt like all of the air had been sucked out of your lungs. Could it actually be possible that Anthony Bridgerton loved you? Was this not what you had been dreaming of for months? Then why were you so scared?

You stared at him, your mouth falling open as his confession. Looking into his eyes, seeing how he ran after you and was willing to confess his feelings to you in the pouring rain, you decided that you had no choice to believe him.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed onto his coat and pressed your lips to his in a rushed kiss. At first, he gasped into your mouth, be he quickly melted into you, his lips moving with yours.

Your arms moved to his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible, wanting to have your lips attached to his forever now that you had a little taste. You knew he had much more experience than you did, but you seemed to be leading the whole thing. You moved his head this way and that so you could have more access to his lips and he was quick to comply, wanting to do whatever you asked.

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I love you too,” you smiled against his lips. He laughed at that, lifting you in his arms and spinning you around, giggles escaping your lips as well. That was a sound that Anthony decided that he wanted to hear every day for the rest of his life.

It was so pretty, infectious. His favorite song. As he set you down on the ground, he made the decision that he was going to get a ring the first thing in the morning and propose to you. There was no way in hell that he was letting you slip through his fingers once again.

[mara-and-its-the-same]

let’s understand that this is Mara immediately post breakup so this means i get to have it as wild as i want it to be...but anyway, all i’ve been thinking about is rebounding with Danny, duh. Beyond suggestive, it's directly implied, 2k words and a big thank you to @frnchgirls, rose is a most gracious help. Enjoy 🥰

“What about like this?”

If anyone asked Danny the series of events that led him here, there would be no sane answer. Friday night he meets you at the Vandals’ bar, Saturday night he learns that you live in Chicago but were dating another Vandal in a different chapter and just suffered a messy break up, and by Sunday afternoon he’s got you posing on his bed with the brand new knowledge that before you got into that relationship you were a lingerie model until that guy made you quit. 

“Danny?” You ask him again, leaning on your elbows and one knee slightly bent to the side over the other.

He shakes himself out of his daydreaming to realize that reality is ten times better and hopes you don’t notice his dazed off gaze from your side of the camera. “Yeah?”

“Is this a good pose?” 

Kathy told you that you should get back into modeling, then offered Danny to help you practice, maybe get new photos to show some agents.  Neither of you were busy this weekend, so now here you are in a brand new soft blue babydoll negligee that she made you buy the minute she heard about the split, on Danny’s bed. 

God, how he washed those sheets and cleaned all over his apartment as soon as you asked if you could do it at his place. It hasn’t been so neat since he toured the place. But now there you are wanting him to tell you if you look good in your lingerie on his bed. But photography is his job, he’s a professional, he can do this.

He could do this, if his tongue wasn’t suddenly tied until he swallowed thickly. “Yeah, maybe you just lean back a little more?”

“Like this?”

“Perfect.” He captures the picture and tries some more from a few different angles. “What about laying down?”

“Mhm,” you move a bit further down the bed and let your hair fall around you as best it could on its own. “Here?”

“Yeah, can I move your hair?”

“Yeah,” he rearranges your strands so they frame your face perfectly and look as effortless as possible.

“Gorgeous.” The shudder clicks right as he said it, so fast that he hits it a second time just to catch your smile when he says it.

“Really?” He catches the moment your face changes from eyes closed and sultry, to open and joyous.

“Beautiful.”

“Me? Or just your pictures? 

“You, and the pictures of you.”

“Thank you,” you roll over again and he gets one from another angle. 

It was never anything crazy, the sets you modeled. Just some odd jobs for more local boutiques, never anything obscene or ridiculously lavish. Danny refuses to believe that though. You make plastic rhinestones shine like diamonds. Machine spun cotton lace looks like hand threaded silk from Paris the second it touches your skin. 

“Do you think we got enough of this one?” you ask.

“I think so. I can get these developed and have them ready in a few days,” he starts packing his camera away. “What size did you say you wanted?”

“Oh I don’t know, but— Well actually I brought one more thing to try on. Unless you want to be done?”

He’s not sure how much more of this he can really take. How much longer can he be in the same room as you before he busts just from looking at you. 

“Yeah, sure- I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He tries not to stare as you slide of the bed and start looking through the bag you brought on his way out the door. 

3 minutes later your head is poked out of the door and into the kitchen, “Danny, you can come in now.”

Oh what a sight you are. The black nightgown reaches down all the way to your ankles, the silky fabric falls over your hips so perfectly, and the only thing between the air and your chest is a thin layer of the finest lace he’s ever seen. “I haven’t worn this in years.”

“That’s a shame.” He can’t believe he’s said that, especially in the tone he did, like he couldn’t believe you wouldn’t even wear it just by yourself. You must know how you look in it, how it looks tailored to your body in every square inch. 

“I know. But he didn’t like it. It’s vintage Chantelle, all silk. Didn’t know how to appreciate it properly.” You sit back on the bed again and just then he notices the slit up one side that just about nears the top of your thigh. 

You’re about to take a new pose when he asks you a most peculiar question. 

“I’m sorry?” You ask.

“Do you mind if I move you?” He says with more confidence this time and what a gift that he did.

“Sure.”

He sets the camera down on his dresser and comes towards you. With his hands on your shoulders— your nearly bare shoulders, his thumbs fitting perfectly just into the dips of your clavicles —he leads you to lay down against the pillows and rearranges your hair. He takes one of your hands and places it beside your head, the other he moves across your torso with your hand cusping your hip bone. He steps back a bit to consider your legs, with respect to the slit. After slowly, so slowly coasting down the length of your leg, he softly pulls one ankle down straight, and pushes the other slitted one up so that it is slightly bent at the knee and tilts it towards the other. 

He takes a second to look at you, really look at you, and he can’t believe anyone would ever try to keep you from this. 

Maybe he’s just getting to know your form, for the sake of the composition, you think. But only for a moment before you see him suck his bottom lip between his teeth, just for a second but you notice. 

Finally, finally, he takes the first picture of you like this. With the click of the shutter you’ve made your mind up, you decide to press your luck. “What if I like…” you bring the hand that was on your hip up to your mouth and bite the top knuckle of your index finger.

“Yes.”

“What’s the look you’re thinking though?”

“They’re your pictures. I’m thinking whatever you want me to think.”

“But you’re the photographer, the artist.”

“You’re the art.”

“Would you kiss me?”

He nearly drops the camera. “What?”

“They like when pictures tell stories, the story would be that I’m messy and ravished and the clothes are serving their intended purpose. If you’re alright with that?”

He so absolutely, most certainly, positively is more than just alright with that. “Yeah, ok.”

You push yourself back up on the bed while he positions himself at the edge. “So how do you wa—“ he’s cut off by your pull to his collar and the press of your lips. Surpassing his initial surprise he brings a hand up around you to hold your waist, and the other up to your jaw. Messy, you want it messy. And salacious, lascivious even. Beyond suggestive, obvious is what you need. He can tell from the way you continue to pull him into you even as his chest is flush against yours. 

You pull away panting for no more than a second to order “Get the camera off the bed.” How sweet of you to be concerned, he nearly leaps over you to put it on the nightstand and he’d like to say ‘if it were any less expensive’ he would have just thrown it, but he knows that the price of it wasn’t what stopped him, it was the fear of damaging even a single one of those pictures of you. 

As he’s leaning over you, you slide down a little further on the bed so he can reach you easier. Or maybe to muss your hair up a little more if it’s against the pillows, or any other excuse you could make to make it seem like this is all for the picture and not your own desires. 

From there it is licks, bites, tugs, sucks of lips. And you’re trying, you’re both trying to keep your hands out of it, but how could you when his hair is so soft and the back of his neck is the perfect shape for you to hold. And how could he when your skin is so perfect and your bare leg is right there.

“I want a hickey.”

“Huh?”

“Kiss my neck.” He kisses you twice more on his way to your throat and you can’t help the sound you make when he reaches the perfect spot. Already he has you gasping for air. “Oh god.” His hand slithers up the slit, sliding even higher in search of your hip bone or waist to hold. 

“Wait,” He lifts himself to be eye level with you, “wait—“

“Hm?”

“Sorry, just…You’re—This is real now, right?”

“Yes, yes, very real.” You rush to pull him back down to your lips and nearly crash noses with the way he rushes down to meet you. 

“Mmph,” he groans at the scratch of your nails across his scalp and just the sound makes your back arch. Moving down again, he passes soft kisses down the valley of your chest. You’re positive he can feel the beat of your heart through every inch of your skin. How you’ve missed this, being wanted, being adored. And how he’s missed crossing beyond the other side of the lens, the feel of sculpting another body just by the skill of his touch. 

As he’s pushing the side of your skirt up and away a sudden fear strikes you, “Wait!”

“What is it?” He immediately sits back and takes his hands away, looking into your eyes for any cause for concern.

“I’m so sorry, but I really don’t want to rip it.”

“Oh,” you see him immediately relax, “So…”

You make no answer, though you do sit up to your knees and move the skirt out from underneath you. With a gesture to the strap that has fallen off your shoulder, he finally gets the message. However, in the spirit of fairness, his own shirt is the first thing to go and before you have time to remember your original intent you both rise on your knees just to kiss again. You feel before you look while your hands roam his torso. 

And slowly, so slowly, through wandering presses, pulls, and squeezes, he reaches the sides of your thighs and takes your nightgown by the seams to lift it over your head. He takes it by the straps to hang by the corner of the headboard rather than tossing it to the floor. 

You guide him forwards as you move to your back again, his knee moves between your legs while his fingertips smooth along your jaw. His eyes dance around your face, and as embarrassed as he may be to admit it, he takes a fleeting glance down the space between your bodies. An idea flashes before him, a bold one, but at this point in the afternoon he’s not sure there’s much left that could happen between you two that’d be too bold. He reaches for the camera slowly enough that you knew exactly what he wants. You resist the instinct to shy away when you still see his soft gaze over the camera. The shudder clicks and he drops it back on the nightstand, “That one’s not making it into the book,” Danny smirks at his own teasing before leaning back into you to finish what he started with a smile still on his lips. 

[loveharlow]

SEVEN - 002

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[6.5k] based on 1x02.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of parental neglect, mild violence, mentions of death/grief, disturbance of a graveyard (?)

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I've been wanting to do an OBX rewrite for a very long time so here it is, the first chapter from yours truly.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“DO YOU REALLY THINK BIG JOHN COULD STILL BE ALIVE?” Kiara’s slightly digitally distorted voice came from the other end of the line. Your phone was pressed between your ear and shoulder as you searched the hangers in your closet, bath towel wrapped snug around your frame and your hair thrown up into a bun, which was presenting more like a mess of damp strands.

“It doesn’t matter what we think, Kie,” You made clear, eyeing a cute shirt you thought you’d lost. “We should just be there for him.”

“Yeah… but what if we’re just feeding into a fantasy? Wouldn’t that make us bad friends if we weren’t honest with him?” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone as well, dresser drawers slamming occasionally. 

“Maybe you’re right.” You sighed, throwing your outfit onto your bed and heading back into the closet to find a bikini to wear underneath. Living in the Outer Banks meant you had a plethora to choose from. “But the way I see it? If it were my dad that went missing, I’d be looking for him too. I’d give anything to even have that small hope that my dad was still alive back, but I know he isn’t… so, I understand.”

“I didn’t think about it like that…” It was sad to hear her so conflicted, as if she’d said the wrong thing.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. And I would never want you to be able to understand that feeling. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” You reassured, putting the girl on speaker to toss the phone on your bed and slipping the bikini you picked out onto your frame and tying the respective knots. “That’s why if John B thinks his dad is alive and wants to look for him? That’s what we’re gonna do. Because alive or not, John B is like a brother to me and leaving him to do this alone is what would make us bad friends.”

“I guess you’re right…are you still meeting up with the guys today?”

“Just J and John B for right now. Pope said he’d be around later after helping his pops.” You told her, slipping an oversized shirt over top of the bikini, eyeing your closet shelves for a pair of shorts.

“Alright, I might swing by if my parents aren’t up my ass about work.” She complained. “Talk to you later.”

“Later.” Was all you said before the end-call sound rang out in the expanse of your bedroom.

A swift series of knocks met your closed door from the other side, you shouted for them to come in, assuming it was either your mother or your dog Marley’s tail hitting the wood. The 2-year-old golden retriever had a knack for sitting outside your bedroom door on the rare occasion that it was closed and she wasn’t inside.

The knob twisted and in walked your mother, adorned in her signature navy blue pencil skirt and blazer, still a half hour to spare before she had to head off to her office for work. Rebecca Reyes was the Outer Banks’ most notable and renowned lawyer. Even when you still lived on The Cut all those months ago, she was still the island's number one defender. Moving to Figure Eight and getting rich, almost overnight, just gave her the resources she needed. You still questioned where all the money spawned from, chopping it down to your father’s life insurance coming through.

But the bank said that could take a while and you never assumed it was enough to buy a house on Figure Eight. But that’s adult stuff, you thought to yourself.

“You got home late yesterday,” She began bluntly, adjusting the diamond bracelet on her wrist. The smell of her expensive perfume already wafting into your space. “Where were you?”

“Just out with John B and the others.” You said with a shrug, walking out the closet with a pair of sneakers in your hands as you undid the tied laces.

She hummed, eyeing the space around you as if she’d never seen it before. “Did you hear about the boat they’re searching for? Scooter Grubbs’ boat?”

You side eyed her quickly, not quick enough for her to catch however. “Yeah, the whole island is losing their minds over it.”

“You and your friends haven’t come across anything, have you?”

“...I doubt we’d have any luck coming across a Grady-White, mom. Especially after the hurricane. That boat could be oceans away for all we know.��

“Right.” She agreed, but she seemed far away. Off. Why’d she care about Scooter Grubbs’ boat? “And what’s this I hear about some kid with a gun at The Point?” Your heart dropped. 

“A gun?” You acted semi-shocked. “I don’t know, I wasn’t there.”

“Hm.” She droned. “Well, if you find anything don’t hesitate to tell me. Or Shoupe, for that matter. He said two out of towners showed up for the boat search yesterday, looked sketchy. So, be careful.”

You hummed in agreement, watching as the woman strutted out of the room without even a small ‘goodbye’. 

You and your mother were nowhere near as close as you used to be. Your father’s passing caused a rift between the two of you that seemed irreparable. You just felt like she had become so cold and closed off, nothing like the woman who used to bake every weekend or plan family nights in the backyard. She was more secretive, dismissive. You couldn’t even remember what her smile looked like. She’d changed so much. She used to hate Sheriff Shoupe, said he was a dirty cop who worked under the rich snobs of Figure Eight. Now, it’s like they’re business partners of some sort and she is a rich snob on Figure Eight. 

She even changed her last name back after your father died and wouldn’t tell you why. That was what made you feel the most alone. Rebecca Carter was now Rebecca Reyes but you were still Y/N Carter and your father would always be Owen Carter. 

It was like she was trying to erase him and everything they’d built together.

You hated to admit that sometimes you wondered what your father would think of the woman she’s become. If she would be as unrecognizable to him as she is to you.

YOU SAT IN THE BACK OF THE VAN, legs bent as your journal rested atop your thighs while you scribbled down your thoughts and recent events — namely the events of yesterday. You had one earbud in, your playlist on shuffle as you half-listened into JJ and John B’s conversation that was happening in the front seat, the bumpy ride making your handwriting a bit chicken scratch-ish.

“I don’t understand why you don’t at least try with Kiara,” JJ started, his heavy boots kicked up on the dashboard. “She clearly likes you. She’s like ‘Oh, John B!’. She’s sketchy about you diving and then she kissed you, bro.” The blonde continued. 

“She kissed me on the cheek. It’s not like we were makin’ out.” John B denied, brushing off the girl’s clear affections.

“Low-hanging fruit, bro.” JJ cut him off, the statement making you cringe in silence as you continued to scribble. “I see it in your eyes. You’re like ‘I kind of like that’.” JJ said in a mockingly low and seductive voice. 

“Okay, you want to talk about me?”

“Yeah, bro, I wanna talk about you and your lack of game.”

“My lack- my lack of game? Okay, what game do you have, JJ? ‘Cause I haven’t seen any improvement in your case.” JJ’s head whipped between you and the boy in the driver’s seat within milliseconds before he was swatting John B’s arm.

“C’mon, dude...” He warned in a hushed tone. John B just chuckled.

“That’s what I thought.”

Moments of silence passed before their voices were heard again. “I gotta admit, your dad’s compass in Scooter’s boat? Freaky, man…” JJ claimed, twirling the newfound object between his fingers.

“That’s why we’re going to talk to Ms. Lana and figure this whole thing out. She’s his wife, she has to know something.” John B told him. 

“And what makes you think she would want to talk to us?” You added, spooking the blonde boy in the passenger seat. 

“How long have you been listen-”

“I’m always listening.” You spoke bluntly, a blank expression on your face as you averted your attention from your journal to him. “Anyway,” you dismissed. “A group of teenagers showing up to ask her about her dead husband, the boat that the whole island is looking for, and the compass we found inside of said dead husband’s lost boat? She’ll either think we’re criminals, FBI, or crazy.”

“Well, this is our first resort.” John B replied, eyes looking at you through the rearview. “We gotta try.”

“KNOW WHAT THIS HOUSE LOOKS LIKE?” JJ said, leading the group of us to the front yard of Lana Grubbs’ residence. “Whoever lives here smokes too much weed.” He observed the small, shack-like house — the walls were overgrown with weeds, the yard looked like it’d never been cut, the place was a mess from the outside.

The three of you stopped, more like flinched, in your tracks when you heard glass-shattering from the inside of the house followed by crash after crash. It sounded like the outside of a rage-room or a gun range. 

“Maybe we should come back…” JJ advised, taking small steps back. But John B persisted, even as the two of you stood back in fear.

“No, no, shut up, JJ.” John B reprimanded absentmindedly. 

“Tell me where it is or I’ll fuck you up!” A deep, brassy voice boomed from the inside. The voice so authoritative it made you shudder, but it didn’t worry you as when a woman’s scream followed. You could only assume it was Ms. Lana. “I’ll sink you in the fucking-” A crash, louder than the rest, cut off the sentence, almost covering the sound of Ms. Lana’s blood-curling screech.

“You’re hurting me!”

John B beckoned JJ and you on with his hands, urging the both of you to move forward. Reluctantly, and after a weary glance at one another, you and JJ followed the brunette boy who was edging closer and closer to the side of the house. 

“Where the fuck is it?!”

“I don’t know!”

The three of you quickly dashed and ducked beneath the window seal on the only open window when you heard something hit the wall from the inside. You had just parted your lips to say that, just maybe, this was a bad idea. A terrible one, even, before a phrase yelled by the angry man inside had you shutting up.

“The compass wasn’t in the boat! Where is it, Lana?!”

“I don’t know!”

Your heart dropped as things continued to get thrown and slammed inside the house and you prayed those ‘things’ didn’t happen to be Lana. The paint and wood started to physically chip and fall off the walls outside, landing on top of the three of you crouched against the side of the house, wood particles falling into your eyes.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, man…” Another male voice commanded, followed by two pairs of heavy footsteps against the wooden floors inside. The three of you peeked around the corner to watch the two men disappear from the grounds through the front door, stomping angrily towards their boat. 

The same boat that had been shooting at you only 24 hours prior. 

“Those were the guys that shot at us.” JJ whisper-yelled. 

“Go back.” John B commanded, pushing you all back behind the safety of the wall so they wouldn’t see you all. Once the boat sped off, the three of you slowly tip-toed your way into the house. The sound of Lana’s cries getting louder and more heartbreaking the more you entered the house, shoes crunching on wood and glass. Photo frames and dishes all broken into smaller fractions and littered on the floor, holes in the walls, kitchen cabinets hanging on by a single hinge.

“Ms. Lana?” You called out, voice laced with concern, eyeing the broken windows before they found Ms. Lana’s curled up figure on the bathroom floor right below the sink that was hanging on by a singular pipe. “Oh my God.” You gasped, kneeling right next to the woman and laying a hand on her shoulder that caused her to flinch and shrink in on herself. 

She had tears running from her red, swollen eyes, curled up like someone’s child.

“She is tweakin’.”

“Shut up, JJ.” You hissed, shooting a mean glare at the insensitive blonde before turning your attention back to the feeble woman. “Do you need a doctor? We can call a doctor for you.” You assured, examining the multiple cuts adorning the woman’s face and arms.

“We can call the sheriff’s department-” John B was on the verge of suggesting before Lana cut him off frantically.

“No cops, please!”

“Mm, that’s not good. Let’s bounce.” JJ urged, weary of the woman’s persistence to avoid law enforcement. 

“You shouldn’t be here...” Lana cried, her eyes focused on John B, speaking as her lip quivered and her voice shook. 

The brunette’s face twisted, kneeling next to me to level his gaze with Ms. Lana’s. “Do you know those guys?”

“They were… looking for something.” Her voice wavered. 

“...Does it have anything to do with this?” John B asked her, pulling the compass from the back pocket of his board shorts. You and JJ shared a glance, both knowing John B probably shouldn’t have shown it to her. “This was my father’s and Scooter had it. Do you know why?”

Why did John B think showing a woman his father’s compass and saying he copped it from her dead husband was a good idea? You had no clue. Interrogation tactic? Impulsiveness? Stupidity? Lana’s eyes were wide and teary, she looked like she was seeing ghosts.

“Scooter didn’t have it, okay? Don’t tell anyone that you have that. They can’t know that you have that!”

Your lips pulled themselves into a thin line and you were starting to feel less bad for Lana and more suspicious of the distressed woman. Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as she appeared. She didn’t seem to be a threat but she clearly knew things that she shouldn’t. You nudged JB’s arm, whispering in his direction even though the woman could most likely still hear you. “We should go…”

“You’ve gotta get out of here!” Lana cried, fearful gaze eyeing the compass in John’s grasp.

“What do you know about the compass?” John B raised his voice over her frantic one, still questioning Lana as JJ pulled him back and the three of you stood to leave.

“Go! Get out!” Was the last thing you heard as the hysteric woman yelled at your retreating figures.

“SO, YOU SAW THE GUYS THAT SHOT AT US, RIGHT?” Pope asked with his head in his hands, stressed after listening to JJ’s dramatic rendition of events. The three of you had returned to The Chateau and summoned Kiara and Pope not too long after, the events of today on the tip of your tongue. “Did you get a good description of them? Anything we can bring to a police report?”

You shook your head along with JJ and John B as Kiara and Pope sighed at you all's lack of response. There was nothing special about these guys. Sure, they seemed out of place but that’s because nobody on the island knew them. That was one perk about living in Kildare, everyone knows everyone. But these weren’t leather jacket, ski-mask wearing criminals. They didn’t stick out like sore thumbs.

“That’s not very helpful…” Kiara huffed.

“But, but,” JJ started again. “They were burly. Like the men I’d see at my dad’s garage. You guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers...” He reminded you all carelessly. “I can tell you with full confidence that these guys? They’re square groupers.”

“Like Narcos square groupers?” Pope questioned with little amusement, his face dropping as he watched JJ smoke against the brick wall. 

“Like, Pablo Escobar square grouper?” You added on, just as skeptical from your seat on the patio floor, legs stretched in front of you and crossed over one another while you leaned on your elbows for support. JJ just nodded, blowing out smoke. 

“You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie.” Kie reprimanded from her place next to Pope on the patio furniture.

“Okay,” Pope started. “What does a square grouper look like? Hm? Because clearly, you don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Okay, you weren’t there! I wasn’t taking little mental polaroids the entire time, dude! I was under duress!” JJ whined to which you and John B rolled your eyes.

“Why would they want the compass?” Kiara probed, leaning forward in her seated position, resting her forearms on her thighs.

“That thing’s a piece of shit, you could pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to… No offense, John B.” Pope claimed honestly, watching as John B flicked the object open and stared at it longingly, paying no mind to the boy’s insult.

“Well, clearly it’s worth something.” You popped in. “Considering these guys are willing to kill for it.”

“...The office.” You all turned to the scruffy brunette. A silent question on everyone’s face. “My dad’s office.” John B continued, shooting up and walking inside The Chateau as you all scurried to follow, shooting one another confused glances. “He always kept the office locked ‘cause he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. Remember?” He directed at you and JJ, looking back but still walking forward. “We used to laugh at him like he was actually going to find it. But now that he’s…gone, I just left it as he kept it.” He said despondently.

“Yeah. For when he gets back.” Kie backed him up with a light-tipped smile. Keys jangled as John B unlocked the room you hadn’t seen in years. Not since before Big John went missing. Before all of this.

“I’ve slept over here like six-hundred times and I’ve never seen this door opened.” Pope said aloud, eyeing the office like a museum. 

This was like being hit by a tidal-wave for you. And you’re sure it was the same for John B. You can remember the countless nights you’d slept over before and after Big John went missing. Before he went missing and you, JB, and JJ would peek inside just to watch him just write and type like his life depended on it. It even brought back memories of when your dad would stay a while after dropping you off to spend the night just to share beers in the backyard with Big John. 

The nights after his disappearance weren’t as sweet though. Sleeping in a group hug around John B after his dad went missing. Then your friends all slept in a group hug around you after your dad went missing. Then they slept in another group hug around you when your dad’s body was found, washed up on the shore for the entire island to see. With the plethora of events, The Chateau became a haunted house in your mind.

“Look,” John B said, pulling you out of your stupor. He’d taken a bulletin board down off of the walls that was decorated with paper scraps and old pictures. His index finger pointed to the photo at the very top, a sepia-like tint to it. “This was the original owner of the compass.”

The paper pinned against the photo read ‘Robert Q. Routledge. 1880 - 1920’. 

“There’s the lucky compass right there.” Kiara showed you all, pointing to the object clutched in the old man’s hand in the picture. You wouldn’t exactly call the compass lucky, though. And if it was before, it surely isn’t now.

“Actually, um. He was shot after he bought it…” John B informed. “Then the compass was shipped back to Henry.” He continued guiding you all through the timeline, pointing to the next picture. “Henry was killed in a crop-dusting accident when he had the compass.” You happened to look up at the exact same time as Pope, the two of you locking eyes with visible worry. “After he died, the compass was given to Stephen. Stephen had it when he died in Vietnam.” The boy ranted. “After that, Stephen passed the compass down to my dad.” 

“This is painting a very bad picture, JB…” You warned, hand on the back of your neck as your face twisted.

“Yeah, he has a death compass.” Pope deadpanned.

“I do not.” John B denied, rolling his eyes and sitting down in the nearest chair with the compass still in hand. “My dad used to talk about this compartment here.” He explained, fiddling with the article between his fingers. “Soldiers used to hide secret notes.” He twisted the back of it off, revealing a word scratched into the top. He sat up with surprise as he spoke. “...This is my dad’s handwriting.” 

Pope scoffed. “How can you know that?”

“He’s right.” You assured the doubtful male absentmindedly, squinting your eyes and craning your neck down to see the word written into the metal. “Big John had horrific handwriting and his R’s always had a point to them. I always used to think they looked like big-headed baby chicks, in a way. That’s definitely his handwriting.”

“Weird observation…but she’s right.” John B backed you up, his eyes going back to the compass. “Redfield…” He muttered. “What’s Redfield? Is it a clue?”

“A clue? C’mon that’s-” Pope began until you shot him a nasty glare, silently telling him to be helpful and supportive or shut up. His eyes widened as he gulped. “If it is a clue, m-maybe it’s an anagram?”

“Yes!” John B jumped up from his seat, beckoning you all to back up some. “Anagram. Perfect. You need paper.” He directed at Pope, eyeing scanning the cluttered space. Handing the boy an old, crinkled sheet of notebook paper, Pope got to work with the help of JJ and Kiara as John B and you scoured the desks for anything else of use.

Your ears were quick to pick up on the sound of an engine over the chatter of the brainiac bunch behind you. Eyes perking up to see a black truck pulling onto the yard.”...Guys?” You spoke, but not loud enough. “Guys!” You shushed them, all eyes turning to you. “Somebody’s here.”

The five of you crowded around the window, peeking through the blinds and peering through the dusted glass. Two males got out of the car and you recognized them immediately. “Those are the guys from The Marsh and Lana’s house.”

John B was quick to turn towards JJ. “Where’s the gun?”

“I don’t know-”

“Now you don’t have the gun? The one time we need the gun?” Kiara panicked.

“It was in my backpack and then I-...it’s on the porch.” JJ quickly realized, sighing before biting his lip out of frustration.

“Go. Go get it.” John B urged quietly but you were quick to step up, tugging the short sleeve of JJ’s shirt before he could open the door.

“No, no, we are not sending JJ out there to be pummeled by square troopers, square groupers, whatever they are-”

“We need the gun-” The bandana-wearing boy hissed.

“I don’t care. We stay put. We stay together.” You insisted. But JJ gently swiped your hand down and backed out of your reach, one hand up in surrender. “What’re you doing-”

“It’ll be quick, I swear. I’m like a ninja-”

“JJ.” You said simply, disappointed as you curled your fist in annoyance.

“I’ll be on my Batman shit.” He whispered before leaving the room quietly with the door cracked behind him, allowing you all to see him leave.

“John Routledge!” A country man’s voice boomed, causing JJ to turn around and slide his way back into the room quietly before he’d even made it two steps outside of the office. “C’mon out now!” JJ closed and locked the door as you all heard the pairs of footsteps enter The Chateau. The men began smashing and throwing things around just as they did Ms. Lana’s house. Was this their MO or something?

‘Window’ Kie mouthed, pointing to the window that led straight into the yard, towards the chicken coop and the surf shack. JJ and Pope rushed over to it as John B held down the door, which was just him standing against it with his hands above his head. JJ and Pope tried to lift the frame but it wouldn’t budge. Your face twisted in confusion, walking over to where the two boys were struggling and attempting to pull up the window seal yourself with no better luck.

“It’s painted shut.” You couldn’t help but smack your teeth, cursing under your breath as your eyes quickly scanned the room for something sharp as you patted the back of your shorts, feeling an object in your pocket. Digging your hand in to reveal a pen, the one you’d been using to journal that morning. You whispered for the guys to move before ejecting the pen and sliding it quickly along the seal to break it as quickly as possible. 

Suddenly, one of the square groupers began kicking the door down, John B running across the room.

“Hurry!” Kiara whispered.

“I’m going as fast as I can!” You hissed. When the seal was completely broken, you wasted no time in opening the window, being the first to jump down into the backyard and making a b-line for the coop. The five of you piled inside one by one, the space surprisingly big enough for five fully grown teenagers as you crouched in tense silence. Just then, you heard a shot ring out from the inside of the house, assuming the man shot the door down.

Everyone could hear everyone breathing, shaky breaths all throughout the small enclosure. And the roosters. One rooster would not stop crowing. You were hoping, praying the damn thing would stop making noise. It wasn’t long before the guys were seen leaving the house, carrying at least two crates of books and research each.

“Pope, shut him up.” JJ demanded, referring to the rooster next to Pope that was making the most noise.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Pet it or something, I don’t know.” Kie cried. Suddenly , JJ got up and grabbed the rooster by its neck, pressing it into the ground until its neck audibly snapped and its clucking ceased. You couldn’t help but cringe and look away, the sight somehow prompting you to gag. JJ’s eyes met yours as if he was making sure you were okay, you giving him a sickly nod in return. One that wasn’t as reassuring as you hoped. Kie was crying silently and you didn’t miss the way John B grabbed her hand in comfort. 

“WHAT BETTER PLACE TO HIDE A MESSAGE THAN A FAMILY HEIRLOOM?” John B tried to muse from the driver’s seat of The Twinkie.

“Maybe somewhere more easily accessible.” You said bluntly, laying back on the floor of the van, your foot on Pope and head in JJ’s lap, Kiara in the passenger seat. “Like a hidden jewelry box compartment or a locked drawer. Not inside of a death compass on a dead man’s sunken boat.”

John B simply ignored you. “He had to know it was gonna get back to me, right?” He spoke hopefully, referring to his father. 

“It’s possible.” Kie agreed from the passenger seat next to him, not wholeheartedly however. 

“It could also be possible that you’re concocting wild theories to help deal with your sad feels- Ow!” Pope was interrupted when you kicked his knee, shooting him a glance that said ‘what the hell'. 

“You know how I process my sad feels,” JJ started, your eyes drifting to him as your head craned slightly back from its place atop his thighs. “Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies.”

“Preach.” You agreed, dapping up the blonde boy.

“Look, I’m not concocting, okay?” John B nearly shouted in frustration. “My dad’s trying to give me a message.” 

“...If it helps you believe, John B.” Kiara tried softly. 

“I don’t need a therapy session. I’m not trippin’ out.” He dismissed the four of you. “My dad is missing, okay? Missing. You guys don’t know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and have no idea what happened.”

Suddenly, the two pairs of eyes in the back of the van turned to you. You couldn’t help but curl in on yourself slightly. “Stop it.” You demanded, averting your eyes to the window, watching the palm trees pass by. You hated when they acted like you had to be shielded from things because of what happened to your dad. 

“It’s been almost a year.” Kiara nudged JB, letting it go. “But fine. What do you think the message is?”

“Redfield.” The brunette reiterated hopefully. “Redfield Lighthouse. My dad’s favorite place.”

THE LIGHTHOUSE LOOKED A BIT DIFFERENT THAN YOU REMEMBERED. It looked older, more rickety. You could swear it was leaning now. The five of you stood staring up at it before John B turned around to face JJ.

“You’re gonna post up out here and look for bogey’s. Alright?”

“Wait, why me?” JJ asked pitifully.

“...JJ, there are independent variables and dependent variables. You’re an independent variable-” Pope tried to reason.

“Shut up.” The blonde-haired boy dismissed with a snarl.

“We don’t know what you’re gonna do!” 

“Just shut up!”

“Listen to me,” John B broke the boys up, pointing an assertive finger. “Pope, you stand lookout with JJ. Y/N, you make sure they don’t rip each other’s heads off. If we get split up, we meet back at JJ’s house.” You watched as Kiara and John B hopped over the fence and onto the lighthouse property. You slid your back against a nearby tree, one earbud placed in your ear as you drummed your fingers against your thigh, playing with blades of grass between your fingers.

“I’m gonna work on my merit scholarship essay. I’m trying to keep felonies to a minimum.”

“All right, would you just shut up already?” JJ sassed, you rolling your eyes and scoffing at them both. A few beats passed before JJ spoke again. “They’re probably boning in there right now.”

“Jesus, JJ…” You breathed out.

“What? You don’t honestly believe they don’t have a thing for each other, do you?” He defended.

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Pope offered from his place in the grass.

“Jealous? Of what?”

“Because John B’s trying to move in on Kie and you have a thing for her.” 

“Listen, dude,” JJ started with his hands out in front of him. “Kie’s hot and all but she’s a kook. I don’t see her like that.”

“That’s what they all say.” You sang playfully, causing JJ to whip around to face you. 

“Oh, really? And what about little miss pretty & popular?”

You visibly cringed. “Ew, don’t ever refer to me like that again.”

“You’re telling me you aren’t crushin’ on someone? No rich, polo-wearing kid swept you off your feet during you and Kie’s kook year?” He egged on.

“Knock it off, JJ.” Pope defended when he saw how your face fell at the mention of it. You hated when they brought it up. Technically Kie’s kook year was longer than yours, considering you’d joined her kook friend group when you moved to Figure Eight. That was an era of your life you’d love nothing more than to forget.

“Fine, fine,” He backed off, his hands thrown up in mock surrender as he backed some steps away. Just then, the three of your heads whipped to the dirt road behind you at the sound of police sirens. You snatched the earbud out of your ear and pocketed it, standing up from your place against the tree. They were clearly headed for the lighthouse.

“What do we do? Do we wait?” Pope asked frantically.

“We can’t, man, c’mon.” JJ urged, sprinting towards the van with you and Pope following close behind. He jumped into the driver’s seat, pulling off before you and Pope had even closed the side door completely. You could only have faith that your other two friends made it out okay.

  

 “NEXT TIME YOU END UP AT THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE, YOU CALL ME FIRST. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, JOHN BOOKER?” Your mother reprimanded the poor boy, her heels clacking against the pavement outside of the department. You didn’t expect a call from John B after you all had run from the lighthouse, coming from the Kildare County Sheriff’s Station from John B saying he and Kiara had been “arrested”. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He affirmed. By the time you’d arrived at the station, Kiara had apparently already left with her dad who’d refused to bail John B out as well, leaving the boy with only one other option. The three of you stopped in front of your mother’s car as she now turned to face the two of you.

“Shoupe already has enough to deal with. The sheriff’s office doesn’t need a couple of rowdy teenagers on their radar. I don’t know what you kids were doing up at the lighthouse that led to this, but drop it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You both blurted out simultaneously, your mother having a newfound knack for intimidating people. She didn’t hesitate to jump in her car and start the engine, giving one last look as a goodbye.

YOU WERE AT THE DOCKS WAITING ON JOHN B, SITTING ON THE WOOD AND SWINGING YOUR FEET. You’d gone with him when he realized it was time for him to work, an employee saying Ward was looking for him as soon as the pair of you had arrived. He was up on The Druther’s, Ward’s boat, talking to the man himself. You couldn’t tell what the conversation was from your seat on the docks, so you waited. It was only minutes before the boy himself came stomping down the marina, prompting you to get up and dust yourself off.

“Is everything okay-”

“I just got fired.” He blurted, not even making eye contact with you and he brushed past you. You stuttered at his passive nature, scurrying to follow behind him.

“What do you mean you just got fired?”

“Ward found out about the gear.” He scoffed, and even with his back to you as he breezed through the working people to leave the dock, you could almost feel his frustration. “I can’t believe her.” He muttered.

“Who? Who are you talking about, John B?” You soon got your answer as Sarah Cameron walked by, you and the girl making brief eye contact with a mutual snarl on both of your lips before her attention turned to John B, who she somehow saw after you. 

“Hey, John B.” She greeted, her hands full of paper bags that were filled to the brim with groceries, a large, brimmed hat on the top of her head. You weren’t surprised when he continued walking as you followed without a word to the girl, but she persisted. “That’s it?” Sarah scoffed. “Not a ‘hey, how you doin’’? Not a ‘kiss my ass’?”

You didn’t expect John B to turn around and swiftly walk over to the girl, getting all in her face. With the noise of the busy marina in the back, their close conversation became hushed but it was still audible enough.

“Your secret’s safe with me? Really?” Your friend pressed the girl. “I just got fired because of you. And I know you can’t imagine that but some people need jobs, so they can eat.” Nothing shocked you more than when he smacked the bag of goods from her arms, leaving Sarah stunned as fruits rolled in front of her sandals. Her jaw slack and eyes wide.

“What the fuck?” She hollered.

“You are exactly who I thought you were, Sarah Cameron.” He reprimanded, turning and leaving behind a stunned kook girl. Although, you would’ve paid money to see that again, it was such an odd interaction.

You knew he worked on Ward’s boat so he was bound to come across her but you weren’t aware they really talked. If you didn’t know either of them, you’d assume they were a high school couple arguing out in public.

The brunette brushed past you once again, taking his time and seemingly building up the courage to break into a run.

“Wh- John B!” You called from your place in the parking lot. “John B, where are you going?!” But it was no use as he simply left you behind and continued sprinting away. You figured you’d just give him some space to himself.

YOU’D RECONNECTED WITH POPE AND JJ SOON AFTER BEING LEFT IN THE DUST BY JOHN B, meeting them on the docks in The Cut. The three of you had been there for some hours, you helping Pope fix a generator while JJ smoked unhelpfully to the side when John B pulled up in The Twinkie.

He honked, beckoning the three of you into the van with a finger and none of you questioned what was happening or where you were going as you hopped into the rickety vehicle. You were mildly pissed about being left at The Marina but you got in nonetheless.

THE SUN HAD SET AND YOU ALL STILL HADN’T ARRIVED YET. John B briefly explained the destination and plan but you half-listened. You’d been driving for a long time, picking up Kiara along the way, with no clue as to where the five of you were going.

“Do you mind if I sit this one out?” JJ asked tiredly. “It’s been a long, weird day…”

“Look, I know I was wrong about the lighthouse.” John B acknowledged. “And wrong about everything else. But I was right about one thing — my dad is trying to tell me something.”

Just then you pulled up to a graveyard, the five of you piling out of the van with a flashlight each in your hand. “This place is scary.” Kie voiced. “John B, what are we doing?”

“You know how you’re trying to remember a song but you can’t remember who sings it?” He started. “Redfield. This whole time, I thought it was a place.” He explained as you all followed him further into the mess of graves and tombstones. “But it’s not.” He held the lantern in his hand up once you all stopped in front of a tomb, one of the tallest ones in the yard, revealing “REDFIELD” engraved in the stone. “It’s a person. My great-great-grandmother, Olivia Redfield. That was her maiden name.” He spoke longingly, looking up at the stone letters. “Help me with the door. C’mon.”

Pope stepped forward as the remaining three of you flashed your lights in the pair’s direction as they attempted and failed to push the tomb door open. 

“Are you pushing?” Pope said to the brunette.

“Yes, I’m pushing.” John B strained out. Then JJ was jumping into help but even with his addition, the boys had no luck opening the door. They all jumped back when a snake hissed, peeking its head out from a crack in the stone structure.

“Woah! That’s a moccasin, alright” JJ started, jumping back almost cartoonistically. “Ye-old cottonmouth. Death in tall grass. Roof! Roof!” JJ started barking at the snake. Sometimes, you questioned his sanity.

“JJ! Shut up!” You warned the erratic blonde. 

“You’re gonna wake the dead.” Pope slapped him on the shoulder, grimacing.

“Dude, they’re afraid of dogs. Everybody knows that.” He breathed out, straightening himself back out.

“Look, John,” Pope sighed, turning his attention back to John B. “We’re not gonna get in there, it’s not budging. We should probably just go.”

You were examining the tomb carefully, flashlight trailing the structure up and down before you noticed something. “I think I can get through.”

“...What?” John B spoke.

“You think you’re gonna fit through that hole?” Pope asked, worried. 

“I’ll do it.” You reassured them, ignoring their concerns. “Just help me up.” They all shuffled to help you up — Kiara and John B holding the vines away and to the sides while JJ and Pope intertwined their hands for you to use as a human step-stool. 

“What am I looking for?” You inquired, eyes fleeting to John B.

“You’ll know when you see it.” Your hands slapped your thighs. Helpful, you thought, but you didn’t ask anymore questions. You put your flashlight in between your teeth, like a dog carrying a bone before laying a hand on each of the boys shoulders, you put your foot over their connected hands and boosted yourself up. 

It was a tight squeeze but you made your way through, landing on your feet and removing the flashlight from your teeth. It took your eyes a minute to adjust, staring at the walls of the spooky space.

“You alive in there?” JJ called.

“Alive and kickin’.” You called back, aiming the flashlight everywhere, scanning over everything. But the space was much bigger than you thought and your one flashlight didn’t seem to be enough. “I need more light, please.”

“Gotcha’.” John B said, pushing his arm holding the lantern through the crack of the wall, illuminating the space by tenfold. And that light was just what you needed. 

“Oh my God…” You breathed out. John B may not have led you all on a goose-chase after all.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

SVN Taglist; (let me know if you'd like to be added!) @esquivelbianca @fallingwallsh @calmoistorm

©loveharlow.

[voxisdaddy]

Do Better

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Vox x Reader

Type: Headcanons + Drabble | ANGST

Featuring: Velvette

C/TW: swearing, suggested one night stands but barely, use of (Y/N), use of the word “gown” but reader written as GN. Kinda cheesy (sorry). Also not good (again, sorry).

In which Vox thinks he could do better and dumps you.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox was an insecure person at heart. He hid it with his egotistical asshole self but most people who knew him on some personal level knew that his ego was fragile and his insecurities were a seemingly endless list.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ One thing he had remained secure on though was you. The diamond of his eye, the light in the dark, the one thing that kept him in line even at his most vulnerable and defensive.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Of course, that security started to crack the more his power and influence grew. He kept you by his side a lot as his plus one to any event that himself and other overlords were often attending too. Product launches, gala’s, balls, big business parties, ect ect.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ However private or public your relationship was before you started being escorted around on him arm at these events, you certainly had the publics attention now.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ At first, Vox tried to keep anything negative said about you and your relationship offline as much as possible—even enlisting the help of Velvette at some point. He didn’t need or want any low life sinners and hellborns disrespecting his s/o and relationship.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ But again, his ego is fragile which makes getting to his insecurities all the more easy to access. As he deleted as much negative opinions on you and your relationship as he could, he found his mind wondering back to the comments. To the threads people made, to the posts, memes, ect

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He’s a big, successful hotshot. He’s one of the most wealthiest and influential people in the Pride ring. You however? Yeah, safe to say Vox is out of your league. You both knew this but never seriously acknowledged it. When it was acknowledged, it was Vox comforting you and promising and that no matter what you’d always be equals—regardless of who’s bringing home the dough.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You noticed that began to change however. It was decently subtle at first. Vox wanting you to wear more glamorous clothing at high profile events. Okay that’s fine… it is appropriate to look high class in these social events. But then he wanted to change your at home comfy wardrobe to bring more…fashionably rich? Like you’re some basketball spouse who’s always gonna be on camera and needs to look the absolute best, wealthiest, and professionally put together person—even on a lazy Friday evening!

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Then their was how he wanted you talk, how he wanted you to walk, how he wanted you to act, ect ect

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ This of course upset you but what really ticked you off was when you’d find out about his use of his hypnotic eye. He’s always promised to never use it on you. And you always believed him. But things were different now. Too different and it wasn’t a good kind. At least for your relationship.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ When the subject was approached however, instead of talking it out like adults and listening to each other, a bigger rift was formed.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He dumped you.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You couldn’t even question if you were good enough because you both knew the answer; you weren’t good enough.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You refused to cry as you packed up your things from your shared bedroom. As much as you wanted to, you knew what kind of man Vox was to people who weren’t his beloved—of which you no longer held that title. He’s likely smirking as he watches you pack up, every monitor in his office showcasing a live video feed of his room. You tried to avoid showing your face to the visible cameras but Vox has always been a sneaky bastard—he probably has a couple hidden about.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ In truth he was smirking behind the cameras. How could he not? Look at you… looking all sad. It makes him chuckle.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You didn’t think this would last eternity, did you? He’s Vox; CEO, celebrity status, and one of the most fearsome overlords in all of Pride. He’s all about ditching the old and embracing the new. It’s time for a change.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ That’s what he’d tell himself to hype himself up some days.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He’s a great manipulator, so much so that he manipulated himself into thinking he’s just fine without you. You made no difference whether you were there or not. VoxTek is thriving as usual, all their creative and business endeavours are working out, he’s at the top of his game, everyone either wants to be him or fuck him—lives great. And he’s single now too!

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He put that to good use.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Only no matter how much tail he got, how good it may feel to not be so alone in bed all the time, how much it fed some part of his ego…it didn’t feel like he was living the life.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Well of course he is! He’s rich, famous, respected, feared, and attractive. What more can anyone ask for?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Sometimes he stalks your new home with his cameras. You know, to see if you’re coming home safe at night.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Your new place is small. It’s definitely a downgrade from the penthouse you used to live in with Vox.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox tries to use that fact as a reason to smirk and chuckle at how you’ve fallen—but it feels so forced and empty. So a laugh kind of comes out pathetically as he looks over the screens with a distant and sad look in his eyes.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Are those the groceries you’re able to afford? That’s…not as much. Though it could be because you’re single and just eating for one, right?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ …right?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ As your door locks, and the lights turn off, and Vox—through your phone—checks you’ve gone to bed, he powers off in his chair.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Please…don’t be in love with someone else.

Velvette huffs as she turns off her phone. Stupid marketing team—making her look like an idiot sometimes. She shakes her head before stepping off the elevator pad.

She glances at the comedically large monitor set up and rolls her eyes. Seems he’s fallen asleep here yet again.

“Always making me clean up your mess.” The doll grumbles, throwing the empty takeout containers into a trash can. Vox by this point is already powered off to sleep for the night though, but she knows him enough that he’s likely recording everything that’s happening so she holds back on berating him as he sleeps. She does not want to deal with a prissy Vox in the morning.

Velvette turns his large chair around, intending to grab him and return him to his room, but stops. On his screen is a video feed. Well, not exactly a video feed. Is this…?

“No fucking way.” The fashionista gasps to herself quietly.

She’s heard that sometimes Vox’s dreams will play on his screen but has never actually seen for herself. She’s had to lug Vox to his bed a handful of times since he dumped you but all those times the screens always just been turned off. Vox doesn’t dream much, he just powers off and sleeps until he boots up. But it does happen apparently.

The pinkette stares at Vox’s screen, curious to know what this threatening overlord dreams of. More money? More ways to hurt to people? Defeating and killing Alastor? To Velvette’s surprise though, a familiar face pops up.

It’s them.

(Y/n), was it?

Velvette didn’t really interact with you much. She had her own empire to run and Vox was weirdly protective of you. She knew of your relationship and the break up but never cared to really get into it. As much as she lives for the drama, anything involving her fellow Vee’s was just a headache so she didn’t usually bother.

She knew he was hung up on you. It wasn’t hard to tell no matter how much Vox tried to make it seem like everything’s fine. Locking yourself in your office and being too afraid to go into your penthouse because “(Y/n)’s not there”—a drunk confession he grumbled during a drunk night out with the Vee’s—is not subtle,Vox.

“Hey—that looks like a gown I designed.” Velvette muses to herself.

For on the screen, the very dream Vox is happily lost in right now, is the very person he dumped 3 months ago, wearing a beautiful wedding gown.

They’re wrapped up in Vox’s arms and he does not seem like he wants to ever let them ago.

If only Vox never let you go.

TMI—so I’m like a depressed person and it’s hard to write angst when all I feel at my lowest is literally nothing. Sorry. Tried my best lol