#but too many look shitty so I won’t show

[lauraneedstochill]

if I see one more post about Aegon “bullying Aemond his entire life”, I will go fucking ballistic, I swear to g—

scratch that, I will actually go ballistic right now. this is the “Aegon doesn’t deserve such a shitty treatment” club and I’m the self-proclaimed CEO. we are about to do some analyzing and reading so BUCKLE UP.

gonna make one thing clear first — Aemond was bullied when he was a child. no one denies that, no excuses can be made for that. I’d only like to note that there wasn’t only one bully. here’s a quick reminder:

now that we successfully counted to three, let’s look over Aegon’s other horrible crimes relationship with Aemond throughout the years.

📍 the night Aemond lost his eye (S1EP7), Rhaenyra suggests he should be “sharply questioned” (she means tortured) so they can learn who told him that her sons were bastards. Viserys, in his perpetual denial, angrily asks Aemond “who spoke these lies” to which he replies that it was Aegon. it is clear that Aemond does that to deflect suspicion from their mother but his words come as a surprise to Aegon.

he’s in a tough spot — Viserys demands the answers “as their king”, not their father (to signify his authority and pressure them into telling the truth). and Alicent screamed in Aegon’s face and slapped him just a minute ago, so he may be less eager to defend her. he can easily lie and say that he overheard some maids gossiping or that he can’t remember where the rumor came from. instead, it takes Aegon about 5 seconds to back Aemond up.

📍 we didn’t get many scenes with young Aegon and Aemond in general, but here’s a short bit people keep overlooking: when Harwin and Criston start fighting, Aemond and Aegon instantly gravitate toward each other. and moreover, Aegon puts a hand over Aemond’s back (which to me is either a protective or a comforting gesture). what a horrible brother, truly.

📍 next we see them all grown up before dinner in S1EP8. I think it’s safe to assume that if Aegon has been bullying Aemond all these years, Aemond wouldn’t want to spend a second in his company. he’s seated between Helaena and Otto, both of whom are dear to him, so Aemond can stay at the table and chat with them. and YET, not only does Aemond voluntarily talks to Aegon, but their conversation seems friendly (you can barely hear it in the show so here’s the enhanced audio). Aemond makes a joke about Aegon’s drinking habits — Aegon quips back — and then, what a shocker! Aemond starts venting his frustrations to Aegon (“Even when the noose is so tight, they expect us to break bread”). nothing would’ve stopped him from venting to Otto but Aemond stays with Aegon. he wouldn’t have done that if there hadn’t been some level of trust between them. he wouldn’t have done that if he hated Aegon’s guts.

📍 at dinner, when Aegon pisses Jace off and the brunet springs to his feet, Aemond stands up too, which forces Jace to act as if nothing happened and come up with a toast. Aegon watches him with a shit-eating grin on his face. it’s the face that screams “I know you won’t dare to act up in front of my brother and my brother has my back”.

when Aemond makes a toast and calls Rhaenyra’s sons “strong”, Aegon raises a cup to that. he can sit this one out — Aemond has his personal vendetta against the boys, and it would be safer for Aegon not to meddle. but what does he do instead? when Luke gets up from the table (clearly intending to go to Aemond), Aegon instantly stands up, comes up to Luke and not just stops him but slams his face into the table right in front of Rhaenyra without thinking twice. and it doesn’t look like Aegon is just messing with him — no, it looks like he wanted to do that for a while. like Aegon finally got his chance to stand up for his brother too. AND he also stops Baela from joining the fight.

📍 S1EP9 is when we get a glimpse of Aemond’s ambitions: he deems himself better than Aegon, he thinks he deserves to be king. but once he finds Aegon and they get into a fight, it turns out that Aegon knows that Aemond is a better choice. he doesn’t want to fight him, he begs Aemond to let him go. and Aemond can do that — Criston has his back to them, so Aemond could’ve pretended that Aegon managed to break free. and even once they caught Aegon, I have no doubt that Aemond could’ve helped him escape. but it seems that, despite his displeasure, Aemond values his family the most. he can’t betray his mother’s trust, and he knows Aegon is the first in line to the throne. Aemond envies him, yes, he may even hate him because of that. but he values his family the most.

📍 as @florisbaratheons noted, during the coronation scene, when Aegon glances at his family, Aemond looks right at him and gives that tiny nod that says “I may hate this and think I am better for the job as king. But I’ve got your back.” I like that Aemond is the one who keeps eye contact in that scene. He could’ve turned away to signal his dissatisfaction with the situation, there wouldn’t have been any consequences for that. But he didn’t.

📍 what I find interesting about S1EP10 is the beginning of Aemond’s dialogue with Luke. that’s the boy Aemond wished to get back at for years and yet, he starts by saying “Did you think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”. Aemond could’ve skipped that part — imagine him saying smth along the lines of “Wait, Lord Strong! Don’t you think you and I have other matters to discuss?” (to which Luke answers that he doesn’t want to fight and the conversation goes on). instead, Aemond makes a point to remind Luke: my brother is the king, and I came here on his behalf. you can argue that Aemond doesn’t do it for Aegon specifically but for his family in general. but Aegon is a part of the family, and S1 Aemond has his priorities straight.

📍 as much as I hate comparing the show and the book (these are two different things and should be viewed as such), I’d like to remind you that Aegon was the only one who stood by Aemond’s side after Luke’s death. I wonder why we didn’t get that scene… I guess it’s because it would be kinda hard to call Aegon “the main bully” after he literally throws Aemond a feast. but we do get to see Aegon supporting his brother: in S2EP1 he welcomes Aemond at the small council meeting despite his mother’s protests (“Aemond is my closest blood and my best sword”). and he trusts Aemond wholeheartedly, that much is obvious.

📍 let’s get to the most controversial part — the brothel scene in S2EP3: some people believe Aegon is being a bully at that moment. those people seem to forget one little detail:

it’s been only a few days after the death of Aegon’s son whose murder was a direct result of Aemond’s ruthless actions. does Aemond ever address it? does he express his condolences? does he mayhaps help to catch the killers, being the skilled fighter that he is? the answer is NO.

I do think Aegon’s joke was cruel (I wrote a whole post about it) but that’s all it ever was — a JOKE. the humiliation comes not from the things he says but from the fact that Aemond is found in a vulnerable position and surrounded by a group of strangers while his brother laughs at him. TGC explained it best:

I also love @notbloodraven’s take on that scene:

Aegon lashing out so cruelly at Aemond seems to be an effort in making Aemond feel as badly as he does and blaming him for Jaehaerys without actually saying the words.

would this be the right way to act? no. but there’s no right way to grieve and to cope with the loss — and HIS SON WAS BEHEADED so maybe take 1% of the sympathy you show your favorite character(s) and cut Aegon some slack.

+ other things worth talking about:

📍 @bietrofastimoff23 analyzed S2EP3 beautifully and I can’t help but mention the scene that happens before Aegon goes to the brothel. it’s the moment when Larys suggests that Alicent and Aemond are plotting against Aegon. he isn’t surprised by the idea that his mother can do that — but the second his brother is mentioned, Aegon’s face falls and he shakes his head no. because there is no way Aemond would ever do that to him. and instead of asking for any proof, he asks Larys “who spreads these lies?” and then commands him to “tend to them.” Aegon can ask him to spy on Aemond, to find any dirt on him, find any weaknesses he can use — he does not.

📍 it turns out to be true — Aemond was plotting behind his brother’s back. which is treason btw (I don’t think Criston intended to keep things from Aegon — he probably believed that Aemond would let Aegon in on their plan). and Aegon does have the power to remind Aemond of his place — he can throw him off the council with a snap of his fingers, he can take offense at Aemond’s attempt to publicly humiliate him (their conversation in High Valyrian — Ewan himself calls it a “public execution”). but that’s not what happens: as TGC phrased it, Aemond’s betrayal “breaks a bit of Aegon’s heart off”. an actual bully would’ve immediately pushed back, but Aegon silently sits down and doesn’t argue, he’s so defeated he can’t utter a word. he has the means to be a bully but he doesn’t contemplate it for a second.

📍 I don’t want to talk about S2EP6 because it makes me sick but I will reiterate one thing: never ONCE Aegon made fun of Aemond’s disability or tried to cause him any physical harm. just want to point that out.

there is no moral to this story, I guess. if you managed to read till the very end, thank you. if you still hate Aegon, that’s your opinion and you are allowed to have one — but please, for the love of god, just stop making shit up. no, Aemond was NOT bullied as an adult, absolutely nothing suggests that he was. Aegon was naive to blindly trust him and it backfired on him, that’s the actual story. and if you are so eager to hold Aegon accountable for his mistakes, maybe it’s time for Aemond to take responsibility for his actions too.

+ some of my favorite critical posts about Aegon and Aemond: x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x.

P.S. I will not argue with anyone so please don’t waste your time — I consider all my arguments solid and that’s enough for me. if you are thinking of sending me anon hate, pls go take a walk instead, it will do you more good. 🌿

[yukioos]

Hi!! I hope you accept requests.

So I was thinking like reader loving Logan and always doing stuff for him like make coffee in the morning, make him breakfast, but like Logan is in love with Jean. So reader stops doing all that and like tries to move on and gets closer w other xmen and Logan realises gets jealous and like BOOM CONFESSION?? (or angst too mueheheheh)

Anywayssss I love your writing!!! 💗💗 Hope u have a good dayyy

from the start — logan howlett x reader (1.5k)

warnings: cussing, jealousy, unrequited love (near the beginning), slight ororo x reader if u perceive their relationship as romantic, not proofread, sorta angst?? idk

summary: reader loves logan and shows it by acts of service, but she knows he’s in love with jean. reader stops trying to get him to love her and gets closer with the other x-men. logan realizes he’s jealous because he’s not getting attention from reader, causing a confession from him and reader.

authors note: sorry this took so long to post LMAO. i’m so glad you love my writing, im having fun posting all this stuff. hope u enjoy! ur so polite, may i add 🎀 also sorry if this writing is shitty i wrote this around midnight

the smell of chicken and vegetables fills your nostrils. you’ve cooked dinner for logan, waiting for him to walk down to the kitchen as he said he would.

you sit on the counter, swinging your legs as you swipe through social media, seeing news about mutants everywhere. humans have been trying to get them locked up, away from society, for years.

you then hear footsteps approaching you, and you look up to see logan striding toward you. you smile at him and wave, blushing when he smiles back at you.

“hey, bub,” he greets you and smiles, sitting down on the island chair, “think you could give me some advice?”

he begins to eat his food, using utensils when he needs to. you turn around and grab a bottle of beer from the refrigerator. you turn and place it on the space in front of him. he quietly thanks you and takes a sip.

you place your hands on the counter and ask, “what d’ya need help with, lo?” and tilt your head.

“it’s about jean. can’t tell if she’s into me or not, i mean what am i doing wrong?” he shakes his head in disappointment.

your heart drops, though you’ve known he’s liked jean ever since he arrived at the school. you’ve always been the first to know about every interaction between them because logan would tell you all about it.

a heavy feeling seeps into your chest, the feeling of sadness. all of those actions and helping logan have gone nowhere. you’ve been debating whether or not you should stop trying to get him to love you.

the thing is, you know jean doesn’t love him back because she’s told you multiple times. of course, she loves the attention, she knows she’s an attractive woman but her heart belongs to scott. she’s loyal, and no matter how many times you’ve told logan she doesn’t love him back, he keeps pushing.

you’re taken from your headspace when logan suddenly asks, “y/n? you okay?” with a concerned look on his face, eyebrows furrowed upward as he paused eating.

you nod and state, “well, she’s taken, logan. i know you think scott is a prick but she doesn’t think that, and she won’t. you can’t change her mind because she’s loyal. she loves him. i don’t know how to give you advice about a girl who has a boyfriend. plus, you’d be a homewrecker if you were the one she cheated on scott with.” you cross your arms.

“it’d serve that asshole right.” he disagrees, returning to eating and looking down.

you sigh and roll your eyes, uncross your arms, and shake your head. you walk away, knowing you won’t get anywhere with how the conversation was going.

as you walk up the stairs, you hear heavy footsteps coming from in front of you. you look up to see colossus walking with ellie, who you know as negasonic teenage warhead and her girlfriend, yukio down the hallway.

the colossus greets you by giving a rough but polite, “y/n, what are you doing up so late? you should be going to bed soon.”

they all pause in the hallway, and before you can respond, yukio greets, looking up from her phone and waving, “hi y/n!”

“hi yukio!” you smile, greeting her with just as much energy as she greeted you, “i was just talking to logan, i guess. i’ll probably be heading to bed soon.” you sigh, now realizing how tired you are.

“logan’s a dick. why are you talking to him?” ellie scoffs, arm linked with yukio.

you stay quiet for a moment and fiddle with your hands before colossus states, “i hope you do not like him. he is strange, he is asshole. even wade would be better.”

“i don’t want to like him anymore. i’ve been trying so hard to get him to know that i like him, but he’s always talking about jean. i mean, fuck, we hardly talk about anything else. i always do shit for him and she hardly even spares him a glance.” you complain, eyes tired as you stare at the ground.

an hour goes by as you, colossus, yukio and ellie switch topics a few times. the whole conversation continues to take place in the hallway, and you’ve forgotten why you’re here in the first place.

“it’s getting late, and it’s been great talking with you guys, but i should be heading to bed,” you mumble.

“you should hang out with us more often than logan. you actually aren’t that bad.” ellie comments, a smile forming on your face.

you all say your goodbyes before you part ways, you walk to your room and think about what she said. maybe it would be better to take a break from logan, after all, he never returned your advances. his heart belongs to someone whose heart belongs to another.

as you lay in your bed, the soft sheets trap you in a comforting warmth. you decide you’ll stop showing logan affection and actions, it won’t lead you anywhere. you suppose even if years go by and you talk to him again, his heart will still be stuck on jean.

days go by and you and ellie, colossus and yukio have gotten closer. you’ve also taken more time out of your day to talk to prior more, who visibly enjoys your presence.

the one person who seems to be irritated by others being around you is logan. your friends have pointed out that he looks as if he’d slice them into pieces if he could.

you didn’t notice the stares until ellie trash-talked him, pointing it out. yukio claims you don’t notice his harsh glares because you’ve gotten rid of your feelings for him, but you’re not quite sure about that.

you run down the stairs, giggling alongside ororo as the two of you travel to the kitchen. she planned a movie night for the two of you because she believes you need to rest by spending time with her. she claims she’s the calmest person you can spend time with.

as the two of you giggle and share touches, waiting for the popcorn to pop in the microwave, you hear footsteps. you turn your head and stop laughing when you see logan approaching you with a stern look on his face.

the room goes silent and logan asks, loud and clear, “y/n, i need to talk to you.”

you worriedly look to ororo, who looks at you back, the same amount of worry in her expression. you nod and gesture that she can leave. she hesitantly walks away, squeezing your hand before leaving to the living room.

you turn around and sigh, not able to get a word out of your mouth, logan interrupts, “why have you been avoiding me?”

you laugh in disbelief, “i haven’t been avoiding you, logan—”

“yes, you have. you haven’t talked to me in days, haven’t looked at me in nearly a week. you’re hangin’ out with fuckin’ pinkie pie, emo girl and that metal guy. why?” he argues.

you scoff, “why the hell do you have a problem with me talking to other people? it’s not even romantic, you shouldn’t care. they’re my friends—”

“no, you’re not answering my question. why are you hanging out with them and why are you ignoring me?” he raises his voice, causing you to back up, almost hitting the counter.

you roll your eyes, “i’ve liked you, logan. like how you like jean, and i’ve liked you for months and you haven’t noticed. i did so much for you, i took literal fucking bullets for you even though both of us can regenerate because i didn’t want to take the risk. i helped you get things for jean and how to talk to her. i made you food, did your fucking laundry. who the fuck does that and doesn’t like the person they’re doing it for?”

he stays quiet for a moment, hesitating, “i only tried to like jean because you seemed so pissed off whenever i’d talk. i had to get my mind off you.”

blush still manages to make its way to your cheeks, “i was pissed off whenever you’d talk because all we’d fucking talk about was jean.”

you sit on the counter as logan leans against the island, he offers, “no more jean talk as long as you spend more time with me instead of whatever their names are.”

you smile and nod, “i’d like that a lot. but i do have a movie night to get to,” he furrows his eyebrows, “with ororo.”

his face visibly relaxes and he nods, you hop off the counter and state, “we can talk more tomorrow.”

he nods and smiles, watching you walk away, “night, y/n.”

[scary-grace]

blind date (shigaraki x reader)

After endless failed attempts to help Tomura up his game, his friends have settled on their last resort: A blind date. Even before you show up, it's not going well. No quirks AU, 2k words.

this was originally in the x reader lovers community, but I figured I'd release it into the wild as well!

Part 1 Part 2

Part 1

Tomura gets being a little late. “A little late” is practically his middle name. He waits until the last minute to do almost everything, and that means any complications mean he’s running behind. Hypocrisy pisses him off so much that he tries to avoid it all costs, so that means he has to put up with it without bitching when somebody else is a little late, too.

Except half an hour isn’t a just a little late for anything, let alone a blind date Tomura didn’t want to go on in the first place. He’s been waiting outside the bar you were supposed to meet at for half an hour, and he’s pissed.

“That’s it,” he says after the eighteenth time a woman his age has walked past and hasn’t been you, whatever the hell you look like. “I’m out of here.”

“Just a little longer, honey,” Magne says. She’s smiling, but she’s also got her arm around Tomura’s shoulders, and if she squeezes any harder, Tomura’s going to pop like a balloon. “She’ll be here.”

“No, she won’t.” Tomura crosses his arms over his chest, tucking his hands in so nothing will bite them. They’re on the waterfront, in the summer, and there are insects everywhere. Whose dumb idea was this? “You showed her a photo of me and she changed her mind.”

“It’s a blind date,” Magne says. Like Tomura’s supposed to know what that means. “She doesn’t know what you look like, either. That’s why you have to stay right here and keep wearing that baseball hat. Otherwise she won’t know it’s you.”

Tomura hates the hat. Right now he hates everything. “So she got here on time, saw me, and left. Can I go?”

Magne shakes her head. “You promised you’d try.”

“I showed up. I waited for fucking half an hour. I’ve tried.” Tomura finally shoves Magne’s arm off his shoulders. “I’m done.”

Tomura wishes he could say he didn’t know how he got here, except he does. One of his friends is getting married, and there’s supposed to be a wild bachelor weekend in Vegas, one last blast of stupid before settling down. Most of the groomsmen are planning to hook up with as many people as possible, and that’s where the problems start. According to his friends, Tomura has no game. Zero game. Negative one hundred game. If he was rolling for his game stat, it would be a critical failure – and none of his friends want to babysit him when they could be getting laid.

Tomura wouldn’t want to babysit when he could be getting laid, either. His solution was to skip the bachelor weekend and just show up for the wedding in his stupid rented suit. But apparently his friends really want him to come to the party, and they decided that what he needed was to get some practice in before the trip. Which means that for the last month, Tomura’s spent every Friday night and weekend getting dragged through his own personal hell.

They made him try dating apps, which were a disaster, even though Tomura let Toga set up his profile and make the first move. Then they tried traditional online dating, which also sucked, because Tomura’s too picky and other people have standards. Hanging out in bars and clubs worked exactly how it’s always worked – it doesn’t – and when Dabi pulled out the big guns and dragged Tomura to the sex club where he met his fiancé, the only people who talked to Tomura were guys. Tomura thought that was sort of a good sign, even though he’s not into men, until he remembered that guys will fuck anything with a hole in it. He’s not high on himself on his best day, but that was a really shitty night.

He thought they were going to quit after that, but his friends had one last ace up their sleeve – a blind date, Magne’s idea, which Toga enthusiastically signed off on when she saw a picture of the woman Magne wanted to set Tomura up with. Toga’s type and Tomura’s type line up, sort of, and Spinner giving the photo two thumbs way up sealed the deal.

It’s not like Tomura was hopeful or anything. He just wanted to get his friends off his back. Still, rejection sucks, and ghosting sucks worse. He’d rather have you show up and tell him to his face that you weren’t interested than stand him up.

Magne collars Tomura again, but her phone starts ringing at the same time, Toga’s contact info popping up. “Don’t go anywhere,” she warns Tomura as she raises the phone to her ear. “We’re here. She’s not here yet. Can you tell him –”

Tomura ducks out from under her arm and books it into the crowd of people on the waterfront, figuring he can make it to the metro stop before Magne figures out which way he’s going. But even that can’t go his way today, because he runs into somebody who’s moving at warp speed in the opposite direction, colliding at the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. Tomura’s not confrontational, but it’s the wrong fucking day. “Can you watch where you’re going? It’s not like you matter to whoever you’re going to –”

“Are you Tomura?”

Tomura’s heart lurches. He stares hard at you as you right yourself, picking up the backpack you dropped in the collision. There’s no way this is happening. There’s no universe in which his blind date would be someone like you.

He can see right away why Toga and Spinner approved of you, but he thought you’d be someone in his league, not somebody who’s several kilometers above it. Maybe Tomura’s too excited that you actually showed up to evaluate what you actually look like. He looks away, then looks back. Nope – you’re still pretty, even though your face is flushed and you’re breathing hard like you’ve just been running. Did you run here to meet him? Only one way to find out. “I’m Tomura.”

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “My boss held me back at work, and I missed my train –”

You’re wearing some kind of work uniform. Scrubs, maybe. Are you a nurse? “And then I couldn’t decide whether to wait for another train or just run, so I ran – but I don’t really run, so it took even longer –”

Tomura doesn’t run, either. When he was doing the stupid online dating thing, he sorted out everybody who said more than one sentence about working out. You pause to suck down a breath, then keep talking. “I know everything I just said sounds like an excuse, and I know you’re leaving,” you say, “but I was hoping I could catch you so I could say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stand you up. I get it if you want to call it off.”

Before Tomura can answer or even think about what he’s going to say, Magne bursts out of the crowd. “I told you not to run off,” she scolds, collaring Tomura again. “If you don’t stay put, there’s no way she’s going to – oh! You’re here!”

You nod. Magne looks you up and down. “I told you to dress cute,” she scolds. “And to get here on time. I practically had to chain him to a streetlight so he wouldn’t escape.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. “My boss –”

“Of course,” Magne says, scowling. “He’s never met a good time he doesn’t want to ruin.”

Magne knows who your boss is? “How do you to know each other?”

“She’s a pharmacy tech at the place I go to pick up my E,” Magne says. “She’s the only one who works there who isn’t an asshole, and her boss is the biggest asshole of them all. I only go in there when she’s on and he’s off. But let me introduce you the right way. Shigaraki, this is – ”

Tomura misses your name the first time Magne says it, catches it the second time, but it barely registers except as something he probably shouldn’t forget. You’re pretty. You’re not an asshole, or at least you’re the same kind of asshole as Magne and everybody else Magne’s friends with, including Tomura. Your boss is the wrong kind of asshole, which means you probably didn’t blow Tomura off on purpose. And you ran here so you could meet him even when you knew you were really late. You must have really wanted to meet Tomura. What did Magne tell you about him?

Tomura can ask you about that later. “So?” Magne is saying expectantly. “Can I leave you two alone, or are you going to run away again?”

“No,” Tomura says. “You can go.”

You look surprised. “Um –”

“Now.”

Magne cackles. She snatches the hat off Tomura’s head, ruffles his hair, and slaps him on the back hard enough that he staggers. “Have fun! I want all the details later!”

“Sure,” you say, bewildered, as she kisses you on the cheek. Tomura’s going to have to talk to you about that – any details you share with Magne will be fair game for the rest of Tomura’s friends, and he’s not sure how much he wants them to know. “Um, bye.”

Magne waves and vanishes into the crowd. Now it’s just you and Tomura standing on the sidewalk. You shuffle off to one side, out of the way, and Tomura follows you. “Are you sure you still want to do this?” you ask once you’re both leaning against the railing. “I get it if you’re not in the mood. When I’ve gotten stood up, I haven’t wanted to –”

“You’ve never been stood up in your life,” Tomura says, and your expression changes from confused to offended. “Look at you.”

You look down at yourself, then back up at him. “What does that mean?”

“I didn’t know anything about you and I got here on time. If I knew what you looked like beforehand I’d have been two hours early.” It sounded like a compliment in Tomura’s head, but he can’t tell if you’re taking it that way. “People like you don’t get stood up for dates.”

“I wish that were true,” you say. You look away. “I know how it feels. I get it if you don’t want to go out anymore.”

Tomura pretends he’s thinking about it. “How far did you run to get here?”

“Sixteen blocks.”

“You ran sixteen blocks to meet me. That cancels out being late,” Tomura says. You look up, surprised for a second or two before the relief kicks in. “I still want to go out.”

“Me, too,” you say. You smile at him. Women don’t usually smile at Tomura. People don’t usually smile at Tomura. He doesn’t know what to do with it. “Thanks, Tomura. For giving me a chance.”

“Yeah,” Tomura says. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t really know,” you admit. “It’s been a while since I went on a date.”

“Same,” Tomura says. ‘Never’ counts as a while in his book. “I don’t know – grab drinks or something?”

You nod. “Can we find somewhere to sit down for a second first? I don’t usually run that much, and I don’t want to pass out on you.”

“You can pass out on me if you want,” Tomura says. You blink. Tomura facepalms even though you’re looking right at him. “There are benches back there.”

The crowd on the sidewalk is only getting denser. Tomura doesn’t want to get separated from you, so he tells you to hold onto the back of his shirt. You grab his hand instead, and you’re still holding it when the two of you find a place to sit down. Still holding it once you’re both settled, searching for something to talk about. Tomura’s not optimistic about this. You’re too good to be true – the kind of woman who’d run sixteen blocks to meet him and hold his hand is a kind of woman who doesn’t exist. Even so, it’s – nice. Tomura laces his fingers with yours and decides to enjoy it while it lasts.

[syluscore]

I Would Never Let You F**k Me

~Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

Word count: 1196

This is my writing for @myrarenee ‘s ask that I have copied below:

This isn’t really a question but I think a Leon Kennedy smut where he hacks his best friends camera system and watches her fuck herself with his names on her lips. And one day she get snippy and says “id never let you fuck me” or something of the sort. He just grips her jaw and says “Sweetheart, I’ve been watching you fuck yourself while moaning my name.” “Why don’t we make it real this time”

!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!

“But our babies would be so cute. It’s theoretical, you can agree to a stupid deal that probably won’t come to fruition,” Leon teased you. The both of you lazily sat on the couch, watching some shitty rerun on TV that you weren’t really paying attention to. You’d be lying to yourself if you claimed this whole conversation between the two of you didn’t make your heart flutter in your chest. He’s your best friend, the only guarantee in your life. Everything could go to shit and Leon would still show up and show out for you. You’d been crushing on him since the two of you met so many years ago.

He could so easily jokingly flirt with you, because unlike you, he wasn’t repressing feelings in order to preserve your friendship. You’ve fucked up so many things in your lifetime and you refused to let Leon be another one. All you could do was shake your head, “We are full ass adults, Leon. You don’t need some agreement with someone to marry and have kids if you don’t have it figured out in ten years. You’ll find somebody and will breed your spawn, you will be just fine.”

You stared at Leon as he pouted at you. Once this man had his mind set to something, it was impossible to persuade him another way. You sighed before speaking, “You do realize babies don’t magically appear right? Like we’d have to have sex to make one. Me, you, fucking. That thought alone should be enough to get your mind off your ridiculous deal.” He gasped and acted horrified at the mere thought, clutching his chest causing you to laugh hysterically. 

“Are you trying to hurt my feelings? I don’t think I’m that bad in bed, good god. I think we’d figure it out just fine,” he continued to insist on his idea. All you could do was roll your eyes at him. “Hey don’t roll your eyes at me! I haven’t had any complaints from the ladies who have taken a ride on the Leon-” you couldn’t bare to let him finish his sentence.

You snapped, “Just drop it okay? I would never let you fuck me.” Your tone was so much harsher than you intended, but you were desperate to drop this conversation. You didn’t want to go there with him right now. It’d be putting too much at stake and you couldn’t allow anything to ruin your friendship. A hurt look washed over Leon’s face and you felt so guilty. You were getting ready to apologize, to back track, maybe even just agree to his little idea, but then a smirk slowly grew on his face. He can be so confusing at times.

“Liar,” he suddenly proclaimed and you cocked an eyebrow up at him. You were ready to ask him what he meant by that before he continued on, “What do you think about when you touch yourself, hmm? And don’t fucking lie to me.”

You blinked at him, trying to comprehend if he really just said that. “Excuse me-” you started, ready to give him an earful about how inappropriate his behavior was. How none of that is any of his business.

He wasn’t having any of it though. He reached out for you, gripping your jaw tightly, making you stare right into his eyes. “I’ve been watching you, watching how you fuck yourself while moaning out for me. Moaning my name and holding back all those little noises you make. Watching your face as you cum while begging me to fuck you. So yes, you are a liar. How about you be honest with me and tell me exactly what you think about while touching yourself and maybe, just fucking maybe, I’ll give you what you’ve been wanting,” he said in a low, husky voice. Between his firm grip on your jaw and the way he was speaking to you, your traitorous pussy was becoming wet extremely fast.

“How?” you questioned him in an embarrassingly shaky voice. Your throat had run dry, your body slightly trembling as your nerves grew and your anxiousness peaked.

He snickered at you, “Yeah, the government training didn’t teach me anything. Surely, I wouldn’t be able to hack into some pesky little cameras. I gotta be honest sweetheart, the security system you installed is a joke. Someone could so easily access them and watch all the dirty little things you do when you think no one is watching.” With the grip he had on your jaw, he slowly pulled you closer to him until your faces were just inches apart. “Now, you still haven’t answered my question. Cmon, it’s just me, you can tell me,” he told you in a condescending tone.

“I-I,” you struggled to speak between your dry mouth and jumbled thoughts. He gripped your jaw tighter, raising his eyebrows as if he was daring you to test him. “I think about what it’d be like if you tied me up and did whatever you wanted with me,” you tried to turn your head away to avoid his gaze, but his grip on your jaw only got tighter. He gently nodded his head, encouraging you to continue. “I think about you forcing your cock down my throat and telling me how I’m such a good girl for you. About how pretty your cock must be. How you’d spank me if I disobeyed you,” you spoke softly and he hummed in response.

“Sometimes I fantasize about you bending me over and fucking me roughly in front of others. Showing them how well I take your cock. How hard I let you fuck me,” you confessed as you both slowly leaned in closer and closer to each other. “You’d mark me up so everyone knows I belong to you. You’d make sure every step I take for the next week reminds me of you and your cock,” you told him as he closed the gap between your mouths.

His hand slipped from your jaw to your hair as he pulled you impossibly closer. The kiss started slow and sensual, but quickly turned messy and desperate. Leon didn’t leave a single millimeter of your mouth untouched by his tongue.

Without breaking the kiss, he pulled you on top of him to straddle him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands traveled down your sides until they landed on your ass, giving your cheeks a tight squeeze in his big, strong hands. You couldn’t help but whimper beneath his touch.

He pulled away from the kiss, a line of saliva still connecting your mouths together as you both greedily sucked in breaths. Leon reached his hand up, breaking the line of saliva and running his thumb across your bottom lip. He slowly pushed his thumb past your lips and you instantly wrapped your mouth around the digit, sucking it as you stared into his eyes. A moan slipped past his lips at the sight of you like this.

“What do you say sweetheart? Why don’t we make it real this time? You can show me just how much you’d never let me fuck you.”

~masterlist~

[anonymousaccountuser]

Okay. I watched Lupin Zero a while back and I’m losing my goddamn MIND over the metaphor of Lupin, a thief, stealing Jigen’s heart. It has been MONTHS and it plagues my mind still. I’m practically tearing my hair out.

Like… Imagine you are a boy. A lonely boy, a boy who’s been hurt his entire life, a boy who was given a gun at the age of five and taught to kill mercilessly without hesitation. You’re constantly told you’re not good enough, that nobody will ever want you for you, that you’ll only ever be a weapon; you’re worth nothing more than that, nothing less. The more skill you have, the more value you hold; if you do a job well you’ll be worth something, if you fail you’ll probably get beat or tossed out, considered less than dirt by your own shitty father. You’re not a boy, not really. You’re a gun, and the minute you miss a shot you’re worthless. You learn that no, you can’t be a kid—being a kid is not for you. You don’t have time for stupid birthday parties or immature little kid games when you’re too busy fighting in war zones or getting shot at in Cambodia. You teach yourself not to feel; remorse and regret are pointless when you’re a hitman, and so is love—you never have childhood crushes or fancy any of the pretty girls at your school. You think it’s stupid. You’ve never been interested in girls anyway, and your father once threatened to shoot you if you ever tried the alternative, so you lock your heart away, stuff it into a box and cram it into a safe and set fifty different code-combination locks and wrap chains around it so that you can’t feel.

And then one day, some skinny rich kid with sticky fingers shows up, and just won’t leave you alone. Okay, you think to yourself. No biggie. He’s just some spoiled brat with too much time on his hands who doesn’t know what he’s getting into. But then this kid starts treating you like you’re worth something, like you’re some sort of treasure he values, something he wants to chase; and not for your quick draw, either. This monkey-faced little brat seems to only want to know more about you, and play stupid kid games with you. He’s annoying, but the trouble he gets into is fun enough, even if you always end up having to bail him out. You find out that this kid is a thrill-seeker, and much to your surprise, he considers you thrilling. You’ve never had friends before, but this feels like something else. The way he looks at you makes your stomach fuzzy with a feeling you’re not entirely sure what to think of, and no matter how many times you walk away you always find yourself drawn to him. You’re reminded of what your father threatened to do at that, so you tuck that feeling away with all the others.

But then, this bastard “friend” of yours does something you never expected; he chips away at the walls you’ve built, carefully picks the locks holding chains around your heart with nimble, practiced fingers. He pries at that safe of yours like it’s fun, like it’s some sort of challenge for him (he likes challenges, you’ve come to find) and finds out those combinations of yours with thieving expertise. And then, as if none of your past matters, as if all those thousands of walls of defence you built and security lasers you set and safety precautions you took are absolutely nothing to him, he reaches forward and places a skinny hand over your chest and takes what he wants, like he’s always done. He holds you in the palm of his hand like you’re something precious, a valued piece of artwork in a renowned museum that he’s taken the liberty of nabbing, and you let him. You let him steal you like some pretty piece of jewelry. You let him pull you from the shitty life you live with that shitty dad of yours and steal you away, even though you’re scared out of your mind of intimacy. You’re alone in the dark of that cramped little safe that you’ve locked yourself away in your entire life, and he picks the lock with a bobby pin and reaches for you and grabs your hand; and then suddenly, you’re not so alone anymore. Suddenly you’re more than a gun, you’re Jigen Daisuke, and Lupin the Third wants you like he would a priceless ruby on display in the hall of a rich man’s mansion.

DO YOU SEE MY VISION, PEOPLE??!? DO YOU SEE IT!!?!1!?

[general-fanfiction]

Foreign Exchanges. (Anthony Vaughn x Reader.)

Summary: Moving school in the middle of the year is never easy. Let alone from an entirely different country. Despite Y/N trying to garner the least amount of attention possible, she still manages to catch the eye of a certain brunette.

Word Count: 1.5k

Gif Not Mine . Requests are open!

Warnings: Mature language.

A/N: My first Ant fic and I’m debating making this a series but you’ll have to let me know what you think! Anyway just a short one to start us off but there’ll be more soon. Don’t forget requests are open!

“I’d like you all to offer a warm welcome to our new student Y/N Y/L/N, she’s moved here all the way from the UK! So let’s show her some of that Hartley spirit.” The teacher, who introduced herself as Jojo, announces to the class. All of them staring at me with blank stares. “Go ahead and say a few words.”

She nudges my shoulder gently before I can decline the offer. Encouraging smile on her face. There are no smiles from my classmates however, only bored faces who couldn’t be less interested in my arrival. For which I’m grateful. I’d seen this school on the news prior to my enrolment, I know these students are brutal. I mean, a sex map? Dad wasn’t too happy about sending me here though he didn’t really have a choice, no other schools were admitting students this late into the term.

“Um hi, I’m Y/N. It’s good to be here I guess.”

“Does anybody have any questions for Y/N?” Jojo offers, attempting to find a way for the class to get to me.

Numerous hands raise and I let out a groan internally. It’s bad enough that I’m stood at the front of the classroom like a new shiny toy but to now be subject to whatever ridiculous questions these teens can come up with is a new form of torture. One that I am really not looking forward to.

Jojo points to her first student, allowing them to be the first to ask. “Why don’t you have a proper British accent?” The girl seems genuinely curious, eyes focused on me as she combs her fingers through her orange hair. Stickers adorn her face along with colourful eyeshadow to match her bright outfit. She has a gentle aura surrounding her, which makes me relieved as I realise her question wasn’t meant in malice and more so pure interest. Maybe these kids won’t be so bad?

“Um, I think the accent you’re think of is the Queen’s English. There isn’t many people that talk like that really, maybe a few down south but I grew up in the North East. None of us talk posh.” I tell her, watching as she seems to take notes as I speak.

“Thank you Quinni, Spider what about you?” Jojo asks, pointing to the tall blonde that is hunched over at the back of the class.

His eyes flicker up to me, giving me the once over though he doesn’t seem too impressed by my presence.

“Yeah, what is it with you and all the other poms having bad teeth?” The boy pipes up, I notice the two boys next to him laugh. Though the one in the baggy outfit makes eye contact with me and a flash of guilt appears on his face.

“I don’t have bad teeth actually. Nobody I know does and to be perfectly honest, that stereotype is deeply rooted in classism and while the UK faces a major cost of living and wealth gap crisis, I don’t think it’s funny to joke about things like that. Do you?” I retort, causing h the pink haired girl and her friend to applaud my mini speech. Both offering cheers.

“Okay any more questions that aren’t going to cause arguments?” Jojo asks, a few hands lowering as they don’t want to get in trouble. “Yes, Amerie?”

“Do you miss home?”

“Yeah, yeah I really miss it.” I start, thinking of everything that I had to leave behind. I know this was the best decision for my family, but I do hold a slight resentment towards being here. “Don’t get me wrong, Sydney’s great and all, but I miss my friends, my house, my pets, I even miss the shitty pub from down the street.”

“Thank you Y/N, I feel like we’ve got to know you a little bit more now, so feel free to take a seat and we’ll get started.”

The only open seat is next to the girl that Jojo called Amerie. Smiling as I take my place, I open my notebook and begin to doodle swirls and other patterns across the page. Focusing on that rather than the subject being taught. It’s some form of sex education by the sounds of it. However, it seems very outdated and heteronormative. Nothing worth listening to anyway.

Upon hearing the bell ring, I begin to pack away my things and watch as a few students mutter things towards Amerie. “Map bitch.” “Cunt.” and “Crazy bitch.” Just to name a few. I realise that may be the reason she had nobody sat next to her and figure it may be best to avoid her if I want to stay under everybody’s radar.

Finding my locker, I begin to turn the lock with great difficulty. Back home, the numbers simply connect and the door clicks open, that doesn’t seem to be the case here though. Fiddling with the dial, I hear the bell signal the beginning of the next class and I huff, annoyed that I’m having this much trouble with a stupid locker.

As the hallways clears out, I continue to twist and pull at the lock. Bag dumped on the floor as I try with all my strength to pry the door open. With no such luck, I throw a quick kick to the locker beneath mine, leaving a dent in the door slightly. Slumping with my back again the metal, I find myself face to face with the boy in the baggy outfit.

Not previously noticing how cute he was, dark hair hidden beneath a beanie, a couple of curls escaping. Boyish grin plastered across his face and piercing brown eyes staring directly at me. I won’t even try to deny that Australia has one up on the Uk in terms of boys, they’re just so much cuter over here.

“What did the locker do to you?” He jokes, taking the slip of paper with the locker code out of my hand.

“Bloody thing won’t open.” I mumble, stepping out of the way as he demonstrates how to open it with ease. My cheeks tinged pink as I fear my outburst may have been unnecessary.

“I thought you Brits were supposed to be good at containing your emotions anyway.” He leans against the locker beside mine, watching me as I stuff countless books into the small space. Normally this would make me uncomfortable, yet there’s there’s something about him that makes me feel warm and calm.

“Nah we love our fair share of violence.” I tell him, smiling as I do so, remembering the amount of fights that used to take place on my estate daily. Providing free entertainment for all the neighbours. “We’re polite, but piss us off and we’ll knock you into next week.”

He laughs, folding his arms across his chest as I close the locker door. His eyes gaze over me as I turn to face him properly. Noticing the small cross necklace hanging from his neck, I can’t help but imagine what it would look like against his bare skin.

“You religious?” I ask, nodding towards the chain.

“Nah, I’m Ant.” He brushes off my question and tucks the necklace beneath his shirt. Clearly a touchy subject that perhaps I shouldn’t have brought up. So instead I attempt to lighten the mood.

“Ant?” The word escapes my mouth as a slight giggle, unable to hide the amusement his name brings. “And your mate’s called Spider?”

“Yeah, stupid right?” He chuckles, playing with the straps of his bag. Almost as if he’s nervous. “We’ve been best mates our entire lives. My real name’s Anthony but nobody calls me that. Same with Spider, his name’s Spencer. Kids started to call us Ant and Spider when we were like six, guess it just stuck.”

“That’s cute.”

Picking up my bag, I throw it over my shoulder. Figuring I should probably head to my next class despite being extremely late already.

“Hey, about Spider.” Ant reaches for my arm, clearly sensing that I’m about to leave. “I just wanted to apologise, he can be a bit of a dick but he’s a nice guy deep down.”

My arm tingles where he’s touching it, feeling the slightest of move of his fingers. As though my nerves are on fire. Suddenly hypersensitive to any little movement he makes. I know I shouldn’t be feeling things this intensely, hell, I’ve just met the guy. Yet he sparks an excitement in me that I haven’t felt in a while.

“Honestly it’s sound. You don’t need to apologise.” I assure him, offering a smile, I see his shoulders relax. “I can handle a prick like him any day.”

“Yeah you certainly shot him down quick.”

As he removes his hand from my arm, I’m quick to begin walking away. Cheesy grin on my face as I recall the interaction in my head despite it only happening seconds ago. I feel dizzy with excitement, my feet feel like they’re walking on clouds and I almost miss the shout from behind me as I go to turn the corner.

“Hey, do you wanna get high?”

[unstableforensicscientist]

Okay these are the head cannons I have so far, and yes I will always add more 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Herbert West headcanonnons:

a gay or unlabeled trans man

also aroace

AuDHD

Hates loud noises or bright lights specifically

Clenches his jaw or grates his teeth when he sleeps

Rarely ever remembers to shower but also needs everything around him to be clean

Despises coffee but if he had to drink it, he would either drink it purely black and probably like the bottom of the coffee pot or so much sugar it’s insane

He secretly has a sweet tooth (PLS HEAR ME OUT ON THIS)

Literally only wears suits and will sometimes sleep in them

Doesn’t remember to take care of himself like ever

he loves compression socks (once again just hear me out)

He wears sock garters

smells like either mold/corpses or hand sanitizer, no in between.

he has two different handwriting, one that is like a mix of cursive and his normal in pen, and really shitty writing in pencil.

Rarely would ever care for music but he would occasionally go with classical

LOVES the rain/thunderstorms

Wanted to study archeology when he was younger (I’m projecting)

will go through math equations when he gets bored or stressed

Definitely stims, but specifically hand taps, leg taps, facial movements, and scrunching his hands or opening and closing his hands into a fist shape, or swaying/pacing.

He also Stims by breaking the fuck out of No.2 pencils and sometimes even pens if he’s stressed out/agitated enough

He fidgets with his tie and watch a lot, especially when he’s nervous, it’s one of the only ways you can tell he’s on edge

Either can’t sit still for hours or will be so silent/still you won’t notice he’s there.

Has a collection of encyclopedias that are really fucking old.

Will read fiction on very, and I mean VERY rare occasions. They will most likely be science fiction too.

Gruber was 100% a father figure for him.

Genuinely couldn’t give less of a fuck about your opinion on him unless you say something about his work.

did his own top surgery with perfect performance and had guidance from Gruber

Doesn’t drink much besides water or just well nothing, but will have some tea on occasion.

I also like the idea of him liking 7 up from the cut scene because it’s silly

used to wear socks with fun yet sophisticated designs on them in high school.

He definitely dressed like your average high school nerd when he was younger, suspenders and all.

Used to have glasses that would make his eyes look 10x bigger

His vision is absolute shit without his glasses, basically a male Velma.

also I think it’s silly to say he did ballet when he was younger (reference to the bride commentary)

used to have his hair a bit more shoulder length in high school

literally sleeps with one single pillow and a sheet. Also his bed feels like a rock when you lay on it. (He never fucking sleeps)

actually really enjoys nature and not just in the experimental environment way, but you would have to water board that info out of him.

Genuinely wants some kind of reptile as a pet.

he has so many random facts on the most niche things you could possibly not want know/hear about.

Genuinely likes the color green, but more of a forest green and not bright ass neon.

has gone camping ONCE.

has a specific routine for everything and will breakdown if it doesn’t go accordingly

never ever shows his meltdowns to anyone but himself

Has gone to the psych ward during his time in Switzerland after Grubers death

Doesn’t trust psychiatrists

this one I think is just funny to me but he has tried to read fiction with magic and shit and HATES IT. Read love craft and he had called that man out for his writing and bigotry so many times to Gruber and probably Dan.

Has the most manic laugh/giggle you’ve ever heard

smiles with his teeth if he’s being an asshole, almost like the Cheshire Cat, smiles with his mouth closed in a tight line when he’s sarcastic or annoyed, only has smiled genuinely like twice.

Hates showing emotions, even negative ones. He prefers to seem entirely neutral unless provoked

never looks himself in the mirror

hates going to the barber shop and prefers to cut his own hair

Literally cannot legally drive

Speed walks, he cannot walk at a normal pace ever.

Enjoys puns and jokes but only if he’s the one making them.

Death glares that could kill a man if it were possible.

thinks he’s very clever but sometimes he really is just stupid 🙁

thinks logically but not rationally

His morals are so fucking grey, like he has his lines he won’t ever cross but besides that, he does not give a fuck at all

He sits with his legs crossed or he sits like a bird perched on a branch, no in between

He either really loves or really hates small spaces

loves curling his body into himself or have his chested puffed out really proudly once again, no in between

He has SERIOUS back problems, and has kinda bad posture

He paces so much that it freaks Dan out sometimes

Talks to himself a LOT

If he lets himself relax, he often does crossword puzzles or just reads medical textbooks and highlights the misinformation in them

does actually care for Dan, just has a really hard and shitty way of showing it

Finds the realism art movement very interesting, and did a lot of research on Eakins to understand how to draw anatomy for his subjects

[storiesofsvu]

Derek Morgan Couple's Headcanons

Derek Morgan x reader warnings: language, minor smut references mentioned, also this is completely unedited or re-read so bare with me lol

Gives nose/forehead kisses

Derek. You can’t tell me this man isn’t the happiest with a partner, little dopey smile on his cheeks, hands on you whenever he can, every moment he can. He’s gonna be kissing your cheek/forehead/nose every opportunity he gets, every time he walks passed you in the kitchen he’s quickly wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek. He always does it as a way to say hello and goodbye, a quick reminder of how much he loves you when he doesn’t have time to say it all.

Gets jealous the most

I think that goes to you. He’s a good looking dude, he’s a charismatic dude, flirty when he doesn’t necessarily mean to be, that’s just who he is. He loves you, like, when that dude is down bad, he’s down *bad* and doesn’t even look in the direction of other women, it just kinda comes off naturally that way. You know all of this, and aren’t insecure about it, but it still irks you. It also sucks how much he’s away for work but he always comes home to remind you just how much he loves you and how you’re the only person for him, even if that takes all night long.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk

This one can go either way. Derek doesn’t drink too much past a drink or two, especially out of the house. But every so often he will go out with friends and have one too many beers and those are the nights he’s so extra affectionate, loving, all over you when you show up to pick him up. He’s showing you off to all his friends, boasting about what a babe you are and how perfect you treat him over and over again until you have to clamp your hand over his mouth and tell him to stop.

Takes care of on sick days

A bit of both, but more so you. Derek’s usually pretty tough and can take care of himself, but the moment he’s come down with the flu? He’s absolutely done for. He’ll always try to power through, only to be shoved back to the couch/bed by you as you tell him that he’s burning up, remind him how nauseas he feels and that he’s not going anywhere. Once he realizes just how shitty he feels he’s a mopey little puppy who needs the utmost care and to be doted on all day.

Drags the other person into the water on a beach day

Also Derek! While he can enjoy sitting in the sun for the start on a beach day, he’s like a rottweiler, he needs enrichment and activities. So he’ll likely hop up after an hour or so, jogging into the water, swimming, surfing, making friends with literally everyone, playing a few rounds of volleyball or another sport. Hell, he’ll even jump in and help the crowd of kids with their sandcastles, lugging barrels of water back and fourth from the water. So you bet he’s absolutely dragging you down to the coast and even if you’re screaming bloody murder, he’s tossing you into the waves over and over again until you’re a fit of laughter.

Gives unprompted massages

Hm.. this one goes to Derek. Same as the first one, he can’t keep his hands off you. He loves to show his love through physical affection, and won’t hesitate to grab your hands, legs, feet or shoulders to give you a little massage to help you relax. If you’re complaining about being super sore from the gym you better expect the full Derek Morgan experience that includes a massage bar/oil and definitely has a happy ending.

Who drives? Who rides shotgun?

Derek drives 90% of the time.

Brings the other lunch at work

Depends on what you do for a living, but when he’s working from the office at Quantico you usually make the time to swing by at least once a month to surprise him with lunch. It’s mainly on the days he either forgets to bring it with him or when he just assumes they’re going to catch a case and then they don’t. He gets a little hangry when he doesn’t eat and rather than him (and the team) suffer, you’ll bring something in.

Has the better parental relationship

Both of you? Correct me if I’m wrong but he seems to still have a decent relationship with his mom, right? Lol. Either way, both of you are happy to make yourselves a new family of your friends and whichever family members are still around and in your good books.

Tries to start roleplaying in the bedroom

Derek starts it unintentionally. He already does the whole “baby girl” and nicknames things with friends, and that defs slips into his romantic lives as well. Little sayings, jokes and teases go both ways, and they stay mainly jokes until someone’s eyes spark in just the right way and the two of you officially know what you’re looking into that coming weekend.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer

You. Derek’s smooth, even when he’s drunk. He knows how to sway around and work his hips no matter how many beers he’s had it’s still hot somehow.

Still cries watching titanic

Derek.

He’s a soft boi with a lot of emotions underneath all that muscle and we’ll let him be.

Firmly believes in couples costumes

Neither of you. And derek thinks the entire idea, (Halloween or not) is completely ridiculous and pretty lame/embarrassing until the two of you have kids and suddenly he’s BEGGING you to do it. (and like, this is before the kid can even walk, they’re still in a carrier and derek’s insisting the three of you all match)

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas

You. While Derek’s all about showing off his love, his gifts are more personal, they’re meaningful, and from the heart, but not necessarily expensive.

Makes the other eat breakfast

Look at this man and tell me he doesn’t follow a meal plan. LOL. He will always have some kind of breakfast, even if it’s just a protein shake. He doesn’t always have the time to make you breakfast, but he always makes sure to have a box of Eggo’s in the freezer and if he’s gone for work when you wake up, he’s sending you a text to make sure you eat at least one of them

Remembers anniversary

Both of you. But he might need a little hinting, and he’s not always going to be there for it. He’s going to remember, and the moment he has some free time and a brain cell to spare instead of thinking of the case, he’s going to feel the guilt of not being there and he’s gonna make sure that he makes up for it. Whether he’s sending flowers, making sure you have take out, or taking you out once he gets home, you always know you’re loved

Brings up having kids

This one could go either way. I don’t know if canon ever really had him talk about kids before he had one, but he was always good with them. I think he was someone who was hesitant considering his own childhood, but also wanted to be a dad so that he could prove to kids that there was a good world out there and that they could go places. I could easily see him wanting to foster/adopt and help out kids in struggling situations, so that could likely come up on his end. I don’t see having or not having kids being a dealbreaker for him, if it happens, it happens, if it doesn’t, it doesn’t, but once it does he’s even more smitten than he ever could have imagined.

________

@lovebishoplosamiguelgalindos @mysticfalls01 @barbasbodaciousbeard @sia2raw @dxtery @alexusonfire @bumblebear30 @haarrrys @clarawatson @fandom-princess-forevermore @kylieramey @alexxavicry @leelizzzle @evilregal2002 @rosaliedepp @disneyfan624 @supercriminalbean @happenstnces @onmykneesformarvel @niyizh @tommyriddleobsessed @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @louderfortheback @ivyflowers13 @silversprings-mp3 @elz-artzzz @speedynana @hanbower @boimlers-gonna-boim @nachofriess @khxna @tinyprettyangel @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @moonlightjxuregui

[imweirdimjazzy]

Sweet Rich Murder

Pairings: Human!Alastor x Female!Reader

Summary: being invited to party fill with rich people wasn’t the type of night you had expected to land in. Although meeting a famous radio show host who has little unique trait, may had lead to some trouble with mob boss.

Word count: 4697 (it’s big one ik)

Warnings: mentions of blood, murder, a lot of violent fighting. Alcohol mentions and drunk people

A/N: hey! this one took a lot of me to write like a lot and I’m thinking to even create another part to this cause I couldn’t help it but write more. This contains human Alastor and I ran a lot of ideas so don’t take this canon (I just kinda thought of something and ran with it) anyway I hope you enjoy this with some nice jazz music in background :)

——————————————————————————

I would say that the American dream has always been full of lies since the 1920s. Alcohol was deemed as illegal and there the country went dry almost at midnight. Scavenging the last bit of their whiskey bottles and the other group people thought it was a gold mine in sight.

Sadly that gold mine had wrapped me in tight rope to be pulled in.

Mobs thrived in such a state of the country. Creating big names out on the street with Alcohol sneaking in as many states as they could. Causing blood to be spilled and families held by gun with a man with so much power.

Yet none of it matters with nothing but glamorous parties out in New Orleans with huge houses enough to get people all drunk and dancing all around the glitter even with so much gambling out there.

Hidden speakeasies, hidden musicians, and you can name any of it. Almost anyone you knew was rich.

Only for their criminal activity.

Invited to huge parties wasn’t exactly my type of Saturday night. Especially having to deal with so many of them working in speakeasy. Yet an “old friend” couldn’t help but invite me.

There I am, stranded, with a sea crowd of people laughing and glasses in their hands. Glitter and champagne all around, cigars trying to be put out into the shitty ash trays that they made out for themselves

With parties like these it was easy for one of your friends to be swept away from you so fast. Walking aimsley in the party and ending up near the bar, with bubble near to be popped.

Observing the place with nothing else to do.

Accidentally making eye contact with someone’s eyes behind a pair of rounded glasses.

He was surrounded by a group of men and women. Blabbering over themselves and getting on top of each other for how excited to speak with him.

I could already tell the crowd as they somehow followed right behind each step he took. Still managing the crowd and distracting them with jazz music played in the background.

I intentionally look away realizing I might’ve stared too long. Looking back to the bar right in front of me while the man behind the bar prepared drinks that were sneak behind closed doors.

Someone clears their throat next to me.

“I couldn’t help but see you.”

Glancing back to him, my palms have sort of sweat themselves so much out.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but watch the sort of crazy party they have here in this mansion,” I mentioned, with sheepish smile that glued on me for the most of night.

“And I won’t blame you on that,” he smiled with a small tilt to his head. “The people here are free entertainment for anyone to watch.”

As I let out a weak chuckle he introduced himself.

“I’m Alastor, and who you might be?”

Making a small smile—I felt my shoulders seize to calm down once he approached me with nice manners that many men didn’t come with into this party.

“Y/N. I’m—I’m Y/N.” I offer my hand with an awkward smile.

Alastor took my hand in his, holding it up to his lips and kissing the back of my hand.

“Nice to meet you, such a beautiful name, for a beautiful lady like you.”

I flinched a little. Flustered of course. It certainly felt like my chest was being pulled just now.

“Ah—ah, thank you!” Fumbling with my words a little but I still recover. “Sorry I’m not exactly the type of person to be in this kind of party.”

Alastor chuckled a little at my fluster face. He let go of my hand once he finished kissing it. Resting his elbow on the counter and facing you completely now.

“I must say, I can tell. You have the look of an introvert. Quite shy.”

“Rather be quiet than loud,” I giggle a little. Peering back to the party I got the view of loud people that were drunk and dancing all around.

“I can admit,” I added. “Some little loudness can be a bit fun.”

He followed my gaze scanning over the crowd of people. “I personally enjoy the quiet as well. So I can supposed I can understand that to an extent. Though a little loudness doesn’t hurt now and then.”

Taking my attention back to Alastor, I propped my elbow on the counter while my chin rested on my hand. Coming up with any thoughts for conversation topics.

“So, why are you exactly here? You also seem the type not to extend a lot of his time here.”

A little light of pleasure flickered on his face, his smile growing a bit more. He look down on me for a moment thinking over his answer.

“I wasn’t planning on staying here that much longer. I only came here to enjoy the simple music of jazz and speak to a couple people for work related matters, but I don’t plan on staying for very long.”

I hummed and tilted my head almost like a curious cat. “You are sure hard worker. I wouldn't care for work right now, especially a chaotic party like this. I can barely keep up with work.”

Chuckling a bit, leaning in closer for how endearing my curiosity was.

“Trust me, if I weren’t here for my job, I be probably be relaxing at home or wandering around looking for something to occupied my time. It’s nice to be here, but I’m ready to leave once I finish what I came here to do.”

A secret grin sneak into my lips. “You’re getting me curious here. A lot of these people wouldn’t care enough to talk unless if it’s about them and their money.”

“Are you trying to guess what I do for money, hm? And how do I get my money?” Alastor smirks grown just as mine did.

For a moment I took a small chance to finally see how he looked, and what he wore for such a party like this. Wearing this nice tuxedo with a classic bow tie.

Recognizing the rounded glasses he wore. Remembering how his eyes looked behind them.

“That’s a nice suit. Probably worth a lot for how nice it is. Careful you don’t want blood catching on it.”

Alastor was clearly amused by my small joke. Although it seems he was more amused by the way my cheeks have turned slightly red after taking a closer look at what he was wearing.

He even knew the suit was clear to the eye; it came from a popular and highly expensive tailor shop. Alastor gestures his hand to his suit with a smile.

“Good eye, dear. And thank you for the compliment. I doubt any blood would get on it.”

“Not if any people want a piece of that suit. Hypothetically speaking,” I teased.

Alastor chuckled along making this party a lot more lively before I had bump into him. Before any of us could slip a word to each other, the crowd was tucking into each other right in front of stage decorated everywhere to the chandelier.

A sudden applause erupt the crowd and whistles. With an entrance of men coming with instruments and getting on the stage.

My eyes had lit up realizing a live jazz band had arrived to fill up more of the empty halls of the mansion.

Alastor only took a peek from the inner corner of his eye. Growing mild interest in how excited I seem to see the jazz band.

“They’ve finally started to perform huh? These musicians have only been on my radio show so often.”

“The instruments look so—“

Eyes widen clear to the diamonds laying on the collarbone of lady sitting a few feet away. Snapping my head back to Alastor with a wider smile.

“A radio show. You’re a radio show host!”

Alastor made another chuckle and nodded at the excitement I gain.

“Yes, my dear. I’m the host of a radio show, now you know why I’m here for business deals. Discussing possible sponsors I could get.”

“That does make a lot of sense,” I stated. “Now that you’ve told me, you certainly do have the voice for a radio man indeed.”

“I take that as compilment,” he smirked. “Besides it is my career and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Some people even listen to my show just for my voice.”

Raising my eyebrow I smirked a littile too. His voice was nice.

“Sounds like you do have quite a lot of fans the last time I saw you.”

“I suppose so my dear.”

Gazing back to the jazz band I tapped along to the music and watch how everyone began dancing right there in front of the stage.

As someone pass by me with champagne glass, my throat had gone dry.

Clearing my throat I turn back to bar and Alastor caught on.

“You want a drink? I can get whatever you want from the bar,” offered Alastor.

“No, no,” I waved my hand and made a small smile. “You’re too sweet. I should try to be sober and enjoy the sweet time in a place like this. Won't probably be here again.”

His eyebrow raised with a smile remains on his face. Mirroring me with his chin resting on his hand!

“You’ll probably never be back in a place like this again? Why is that my dear?”

“Don’t really have the money,” I said with a hint of embarrassment as I looked away. “And— a friend had dragged me here from work. She’s run off somewhere though probably with one of the men she was talking to since we arrived here.

“Are you still enjoying the party?”

My chest made this slight jump and I try not to smile too much.

“Yeah—yeah I am. I would be such a liar if I said no.”

Alastor laughed for a second and leaned closer with our shoulders nearly touching.

“I’m glad you are. I do have to say you certainly have been more fun to talk with than most of the people I’ve spoken with tonight.”

The small comment he made somehow made me giddy all around my chest and brain.

Without a beat he calls for the bartender asking for a drink. Sliding in money for him and handing the drink to me.

No word was spoken but I grabbed the drink as I gave a smile to Alastor who still smiles since he talked to me.

The jazz band kept roaring on with the dance floor covered with flapper dresses swinging around and drinks in hand.

“Quite lively tonight I do have to say. The dance floor is getting more and more packed by the minute.”

“I don’t blame them for wanting to dance. Music is incredible!” I exclaimed while watching this one specific couple dancing with one another.

My eyes were glued on them and Alastor followed where I watched. Hands rested in his pockets and leaned back against the countertop.

Watching the dancers but content watching my facial expressions observing the people dancing.

“Do you want to dance at all, my dear? Or are you just content with just watching the dancers?”

My hands twitch against the glass cup and I bite the inside of my cheek.

“I’m not really a dancer,” I said.

“Oh please,” waved Alastor's hand. “Anyone can be a dancer. Dancing isn’t as difficult as a lot of people make it up to be.”

“I suppose it does seem a lot fun…”

No hesitation came near when he stood up from the bar seat with a hand out for him. A smile never faltered out from his handsome face.

“You know what? Let’s give dancing a try, shall we?”

A wide eyed expression had fallen on my face but a smug smile had turned my lips. “A dancer? I didn’t expect you to be the type.”

“I'm a very good dancer, you are in good hands dear.”

I stood up before he spoke again but I took his hand gently. “Show me the way.”

In a second I was immediately pulled right into the crowd. Swiftly pulling me through the sea of people and making sure my hand was in his. Starting to dance a bit along with the rhythm of the dance

The tassels of my black dress waved around just as he spun me around a couple of times. I laughed but followed his dancing as he gripped my hand and swung around.

People around us kept dancing along and the spotlight shone on the stage as the musicians kept playing. Just from stepping onto the floor, you almost can get drunk simply being around others.

Just as he swung me around and spun me again, I felt mysel trip a little bumping into his chest. Alastor hold me as he kept dancing.

“You got some moves radio man!”

Alastor laughed and his hand placed on my waist holding on to me tight before continuing to dance. Speaking up amidst all of the music and cheerful chatter.

“What can I say? I keep a lot of secrets from my audience, you know. I am full of surprises,” Alastor winked and dipped me down with our faces inches closer.

“Watch it, I love mysteries.”

I smiled and giggle from the small dip he did, and pulling me back up. Alastor hold me close and dance again with a hand on my waist and the other on my hand. Dancing around and taking steps after the other.

Alastor snickered under his breath. “That’s good, because you’ll never discover all of mine.”

“I wouldn’t say that for you. I do have a way to get to know a person more than themselves.”

Alastor chuckled and danced a little slower, taking the time to stare at me for a moment for the cute kind of confidence I grew. “You think you can figure out all of my mysteries, darling?”

A new cute pet name I see.

I stayed silent until I spoke up again. “There’s this quote I really like from one of my favorite books I’ve read. I like big parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.”

Alastor listened to the quote with small humming as we took small steps around the few beats of the jazz song. He wore this cheeky smile while he held me close.

“And yet here you and I are in a place full of dozens of people, and having a private conversation of our own.”

“I guess that’s why they call them intimate,” I almost muttered.

Alastor's smile had widened as he listened to my voice getting quieter than usual. He made sure he had pull me the closest I ever was with him and reduced the amount of space that was left between us.

“Yes, they are quite intimate, aren’t they?” He chuckled. “And how intimate would you say we are at this moment, dear?”

“None, we ain't drunk yet.”

Some laughter left out of me as I closed my eyes, shaking my head. Alastor did the same but softly and made sure I wasn’t bumping into anyone else.

Leaned in close he made sure he muttered it to me to only hear.

“I'm sure I can change that very quickly, my dear.”

My cheeks reddened furiously. “Careful, you might flatter me a bit, radio man.”

“Maybe that’s the point.”

His breath hit me and I could nearly feel myself tripping once again but this time out of my flooshiness.

The song was finished with one more last note from the saxophonist and everyone cheered as we paused on the floor.

For a second I imagine as if he squeezed gently on my hand.

“Y/N!”

I jolt awake and rip my eyes away from him for a second. Recognizing the smug man walking towards the both of us.

“Torrio.” I said his name out loud and I let go of Alastor quickly. I didn’t want too but seeing my boss out and about at the party was something that wasn’t usual.

It screamed as a warning came up ahead.

“Well, now isn’t it the lovely Y/n! And I thought you weren’t the type to get into these kinds of parties,”

Torrio’s words slurred.

His breath reeked of booze and even after taking a few steps it still somehow stink.

“I thought you were with the others by now, sir,” I mentioned to Torrio.

“Oh come on. I’m just glad to see you somewhere like this. I would've always wondered what you would’ve looked like in flapper dress,” Torrio hiccups and tries to place his arm around me but I dodged it taking a few steps back.

Causing me to bump into Alastor, who only sticks with the smile but with narrowed eyes on Torrio.

Losing the little balance I had, he placed his hands on my waist steadying me and making sure I won’t fall.

At least I thought so.

“I was here for Alison,” I said directly and uncomfortable as he kept staring at me, especially how older he was than me.

“I don’t see her anywhere. Looks like you got caught by someone, and I didn’t expect it to be a very famous radio show host!”

Torrio looks at Alastor giving a drunken smile but Alastor gives a smile back. One that didn’t meet his eyes.

“It's a pleasure to meet you sir, you must be…”

“Johnny Torrio,” he slapped his hand on Alastor's hand and shook it harshly and sloppy. “Say, you should visit the speakeasy we have that's a couple blocks away young man. We have every kind of drink that you would like, got some new shipments.”

I frowned a little and continued to sense the energy thick and sticky. Creating this caution tension that I couldn’t get out from the web.

“I don’t think Alastor wouldn’t wanna do that—“

“Nonsense! It would be worth it!” Torrio interrupted me.

Alastor stood silent but remained fixated on the both of us.

“Now, may I have a word with Y/N. I promise I won’t take her away for too long, Mr. Alastor.”

Alastor gave off an air of politeness and charm. Though he seem reluctant letting go of me for a second.

“Of course. I won’t get in the way of you two having conversation,” said Alastor.

He removed his hands from waist and somehow it felt as emptier than usual.

“I promise I won’t take her away for too long,” he made a nasty wink at Alastor and grab my arm, dragging me away.

I didn’t get the chance to look back for Alastor. Only this view of people and the drunk mess of my boss.

Everything started to scream in my brain. Especially the way he had forcibly grabbed me out of my will. There was something wrong, I could smell it on him and see it from the nerve about to pop out of his forehead.

Soon he took me to the exit doors where a bodyguard stood there, opening it up for him.

There it sank in.

I tried to pull away but he still managed to grip tighter and I yelped. The other bodyguard made sure the front doors were closed just as they heard make some sort of any noise.

Torio grabbed me and shut me up placing his hand on my mouth.

“Shut up you tramp! Come on!”

There he dragged me outside away from the noise and partying, to an alleyway dark and no human to be spotted to be screamed for. He push me off from him and there I hit the wall a bit as he stood over me.

“You think that you were that slick to get away from us!” Torio yelled.

“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about,” I spat.

“The FBI is what I’m talking about!”

I looked at dumbfounded and still confused as to why he would react like this to me.

“One of our guys were out tonight until the whole place went into hell and he died after shootout with police officers,” Torio explained with glare in his eyes.

“They found link back the speakeasy and we found out one of the many men who sneak in their way was an actual fucking spy!”

Torio kicked a trash can in alleyway and I stared at him as if he was lunatic. A true fucking lunatic.

“A spy had somehow found our spot and now has leaked all the information to the FBI agents. Meaning they gonna terrioze anytime tomorrow, all because of your fault.”

“My fault?” I scoffed. “I did nothing, what are you on, Torrio?”

“You are the only one who gets to see the guests that get up and leave once they all drunk and gone. You see everyone who enters and leaves with some kind of slut every night. I know you saw them, Y/n.”

“I wouldn’t fucking see them!” I hissed. “I would've known about this faster if I wasn’t so busy being at the bar and dealing with all your buddies who only snort and drink out of their time.”

Torio pushes me to the brickwall and his nails stab my arm. “Watch what you say to me, bitch!”

For a minute it was only me and him pushing off of each other but he had pinned his hand around my neck. Pushing my head to the wall.

“I’m giving you choice right here,” He started to choke me and ran out of breath. “Did you know or not?”

“How could I possibly have known? You know how many people come in and out!” I try to grasp for air. “Coming with gambling and drug deals. You keep me at the bar for godsakes!”

Torrio made sure he had me there stick to the wall and grab something from behind his back. The gun clicked and there it was pointed at me. A fear smeared into my eyes.

“Get off of me!”

With nails dug into his wrist and a finger on the trigger ready to be pushed—a loud smack echo the alleway. A second look of a wooden plank it was hit across behind his head causing him to hit the ground. Falling unconscious at my feet. I gasped and felt the empty air hit my free neck.

My body went frozen.

Hand on the wooden plank—Alastor stare at Torio at the ground as he heavy breathes. He catches me staring at me. Giving his full attention on to me and dropping the plank.

His face staying serious but his eyes seem to stare with nothing but concerned just as he took the sight of me.

A loud groan came out of Torrio and he was shaking, but moving ever so slowly. Reaching for the gun that was few inches away easily to get just extending your arm. I look back at Alastor who seems to realize the same thing that I was thinking of.

So quickly, and so loud, Alastor steps on Torrios hand and smashing it into the ground. Causing Torrio to yell out in pain.

Alastor grabs the gun and swiftly points it spot on onto his head.

Firing a bullet. Striking the bullet right between his eyes. The pistol ring the whole alleway enough to take to the sidewalks to be heard.

Eyes of Torio dead as mouse that has fallen into a trap. His body fallen cold and no air to be exhaled. Blood splatter onto the trash can and puddle near leaking out of his head. Realizing the blood had not only tainted everywhere but us as well.

The both of us stood there in silence, staring at the scene in front of us and now listening to the now quiet alleway. The only sounds being the faint noises coming from the party still going on from the other side of the building.

I couldn’t make up any words the longer I stare at the dead body. Finally getting the courage to peer back to Alastor. His attention drawn to the bloody murder that had just been caused and trembled hand onto the pistol he had in hand.

His face and body say in composure. No reeking of any self pressure or guilt. Just a man with calm wide eye expression staring at man on the ground who he had kill as if he was a deer.

Alastor had turned his face to me. There he saw the shift in my eyes as I saw him differently. There it had both clicked inside of our brains.

Calm composure. Heat in his breaths. This wasn’t his first.

Down the other end of the alleyway I could hear the familiar voices of men. Snapping my head to the voices and hearing them yell.

“Who’s there!?”

Instantly recongizing that the men were from the mob. Panic started to rise inside of me.

“We need to get out of here.” I grab Alastor by his wrist and immediately started running.

His feet picked up with pace of mine and we could hear bullets being fire from the other end. We turned the corner. Entering back inside the party through backdoor of the house.

The sound of champagne bottles being popped up with dancers still keeping the night young out on the floor. Alastor had made sure to stay close to me as we weaved through the crowd and the dancers.

Discreetly making our way out without all the attention back to us. The arrival of gunshots came and soon the party and everyone else in it, knew there was trouble. The area was overrun by everyone running outside taking a warning of the violence growing outside.

Alastor tugs my wrist stopping the both of us from running. He gestures with his head to another door. Im guessing he knew the area well enough on which doors to exit.

Doors went wide open and soon the both of us ran down the streets of New Orleans. Along with people behind us trying to escap the mob

“In here!”

Alastor grabs out of his pocket car keys unlocking a car parked right out of the mansion.

“Get in!” He yelled. Opening the passenger door for me and soon I jump in quickly. Alastor runs for the drivers seat and soon pushing the gas pedal to speed away. Speeding away from faint gunshots firing in the sweet old rich mansion.

With silence now bearing around the air and our breaths all heavy, sinking tired from all the occurrences. I had reimagined all the incidents and what kind of sticky mess i had finally wind up myself into.

I had now processed the fact that my boss was dead and gone. The state of his mob is probably up in flames right now. And the fact I was in a car with a murderer and yet somehow I felt the most safest with him throughout the night.

Even though I couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not once Torrio was fully dead.

Somehow I knew, I just knew he was much more than he shown or spoke tonight. That glare that smeared into his eyes and how he looked at motionless body right there on the concrete floor.

Maybe my brain had self consciously jump into the conclusions or I had now set up a sort of make up lie in my head.

Or maybe it truly takes two people to understand who the other person really is.

Alastor kept one hand on the steering wheel as he drove quietly. Listening to my breathing.

Gazing at him for a quick moment. Noticing the blood stain on his face and the white button up. Matching the red color inside of his suit coat.

I close my hands and there I took sharp inhale.

“Alastor.”

His eyes took a double look at me and finally spoke.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He went quiet for a moment. Not exactly expecting those two words to come out of my mouth. His eyes stay focused on the road up ahead.

“You’re welcome.”

A/N: (Should I make a part two?)

[spoiled-milk]

honkai star rail characters’ reaction to your tattoos [ft dan heng, welt, blade, kafka, gepard]

a/n: it's been four weeks of uni and i have pulled too many all nighters and consumed way too many energy drinks. i am running on no juice at the moment and i wrote this is like two sittings and it is very much not proof read

content warning: mentions of tattoos (duh), very out of character characters probably, shitty writing, sfw

word count: ~780 words

dan heng

neutral to your body tattoos and just see it as another part of you

i personally hc that he has at least one on his body and it’s on right shoulder (source: me i saw it in person in his bed)

doesn’t mean that every time you wear a tank top and your back is somewhat visible he can’t help but stare at you

it’s just fascinating to him. he wants to know if it has meaning to you or if you got it on a whim, if you were meticulous in picking every element represented or it’s just a collage of your favorite things. if the artwork on your back shows your lifetime story that words can’t describe

sometimes at night when the you’re giving him information to fill in the data bank and you fall asleep he’ll unconsciously hover his hand where your tattoo is and rub circles where it is

welt

welt sees your tattoos in pretty much the same way dan heng does, but he admired how the artwork on your body highlights your beauty

when you fall asleep on the couch filling out paperwork for both himeko and for the data bank, your tattoo is visible

as you snore on the red couches in the lobby of the express, welt can’t help but bring you a blanket and shift you into a position that won’t hurt your back in the morning

welt sits next to you book in hand while he watches you snooze away. eventually he too succumbs to slumber and he is seen sleeping next to you on the couch (no one is sure how the two of you manage to fit on one couch)

blade

he’s the first one and probably the only one to notice that your tattoo covers a scar

he won’t ask you about it (it’s not any of his business) but he would point it out in private

“you’ve got a scar there” he’d point at your tattoo and you’d play dumb “pfft… what scar?” then he points at the exact spot on your tattoo where ink covers scar tissue

freaks you out tbh you thought it was not that noticeable and blade senses your panic and reassures you it can’t be spotted that easily

he’s a little confused on why you would want to cover it and you tell him honestly. you don’t like it when people point it out while in public and you just found out easier to cover it up permanently without needing to always apply foundation

he feels bad for you but he’s got bandages on his hands so who is he to talk about covering up wounds

he has a new sense of closeness to you and vice versa. You sometimes catch him eyeing your tattoo and you ask him if he wants to get one too

he politely declines but if you wanted to get matching tattoos with him in a discreet spot, he won’t reject probably

kafka

i’m surprised that in that one light cone of kafka from forgotten hall she’s got none but that’s okay she’s still hot nevertheless

mommy kafka thinks your tattoos are hot probably so she deliberately buys you clothing that don’t cover the tattoo (backless dresses, sleeves less shirts, low rise jeans, shoulder less blouses)

she will be upset if you don’t wear the things she buys you

she probably thinks back tattoos are the sexiest and if you let her she would totally kiss your back just to make you squirm

loves water color style type tattoos the most, but whatever you have on you is hot to her

gepard

in one of gepard’s voice lines he mentions that he’s into gardening (hot hot hot) so i think if you had a tattoo of flowers he’d melt probably

if it’s on your shoulder or back and you show him? he will scream. he’s gonna scream, throw his jacket at you, then go into another room. he’s just a little baby you gotta cut him some slack

will admire your tattoos from afar but cannot look you in your eyes because he will go red in the face

if you ask him for his input for some flowers for a new tattoo idea that you have, will be honored that you asked him of all people

he would suggests lilies, amaryllises, morning glories, or bellflowers. don’t ask him why though he will not be able to tell you without blushing

he thinks all these flowers are gorgeous and he finds you gorgeous and if you incorporated some of these in your new tattoo he will be putty in your hands

he rarely gets to give out advice that’s not related to silvermane guard rules, regulations, and formalities so he’s secretly ecstatic

[pinguwrites]

Kinktober 2023 | Day Twenty — Darren/Pig + vanilla, riding

Pairing -> sub!pig x dom!reader

KINKTOBER 2023 MLIST

Warnings: mild degradation, mention of masturbation, pig's sorta innocent, reader takes runt's place, reader's lowkey a little mean, very very mild dub-con (just in case 'cause they're bold with touching and not asking, but they both are into it), sorry for the shitty accent I tried, if it was really bad let me know and I'll try to make it better

Disclaimer: Disco Pigs characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Pig looked at you miserably, feeling a sense of shame wash over him like a cold bucket of water. He hadn’t expected you to hear him, hear his monologue of how he wanted to have sex with you. He should have kept it all in his head, or made sure you weren’t in your room. How was he supposed to know you were on your bed, listening through the hole in the wall?

“Well?” you snapped. “Whaddya have to say for yourself?”

“Sorry!” Pig cried, lower lip wobbling. “M’sorry, Runt! Jus’ wanna express myself.”

What if you decided you didn’t want to be friends anymore? What if you left him? Found him disgusting and dirty? What would he do if you were gone? You were his everything. He would do anything for you. How was he supposed to convince you to stay?

“You couldn’t jus’ tell me?” you said, sitting down on the bed beside him. When he looked away you grabbed his hair and forced him to face you. “You had to be all secret-like. How many times you’ve done this before? Tell me.”

“Few times,” he admitted, trying not to stare at your lips. “Can’t stop thinking about it—me and you, Pig an’ Runt, moaning an’ touch, with my hand ‘round my cock—”

“Touching yourself, Pig?” you asked, a little surprised, but delighted nonetheless. 

If possible, Pig looked even more miserable. “Yes, ma’am.”

You almost wanted to laugh. Pig only called you “ma’am” when he thought you were mad at him, which, to be fair, you were making it seem like you were. It was just so fun teasing him, the poor little thing. You couldn’t resist. 

“Show me,” you demanded, looking down at the area between his legs. “I wanna see your cock.”

With no questions, he immediately unzipped his pants and pulled it out. It was thick and white, soft at the moment, but you could see it growing hard in his hands. You touched it, without asking for permission—he would’ve let you, anyways—and tugged on it, making him whimper.

“Ah, be nice, won’t ya’? Please, Runt.”

“Am being nice. Wanna see me, too?”

Pig’s eyes widened with excitement. “Yes, yes.” His hands went to your skirt and he pulled it up, shoving your panties down so quickly and smoothly you were sure he’d thought about doing this before. 

He bent over and took a whiff, then pressed his finger through your folds. “Smell good,” he commented. “Feel good, too. Little hole.” He wiggled his finger right above your entrance, but you pushed him away, making him frown. “Still mad? No, don’t be mad. Said sorry, yeah? Said sorry and you feel okay now. Right?”

He tried to push back inside but you pushed him away again, and this time, to make clear he got the message, tugged on his cock again. “Just wanna put my finger inside Runt’s hole! You up an’ teasin’ me . . .”

He pulled away completely, accepting your decision. He didn’t dare go against you a third time, not when he was so vulnerable in front of you, so embarrassed, with tears wetting his eyes. 

“Crying now?” you laughed, not bothering to keep it in this time. 

“Too much,” he whined. His cock was now fully hard, with some liquid leaking out the top. 

You shoved him down on the bed, making it slap against his stomach. He waited to see what you were going to do, almost worried, but then you sank his tip into your pussy, and he moaned, lips spread wide in happiness.

“Yes! S’nice. Warm,” he choked. “Need’a see Runt’s tits.”

He groped your chest, feeling for your tits. You didn’t stop him. You were enjoying his touch, and was far too focused on easing the pain you felt as you sunk yourself deeper onto his cock.

Eventually, the stinging feeling subsided, and you started moving, slowly and sensually, with your hands on his body, eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.

“Should’a done this sooner, Pig,” you said. “Could’a felt ya’ inside me, all big an’ hard.”

He nodded, dazed.

You rode him, without a care in the world that his mom could walk into his room at any moment, without caring that the bedroom window was cracked open with the lamp inside turned on. All there was was him and you—Pig an’ Runt, the way it was meant to be.

Taglist:

@rainyforest777

@thatwitchybitch420

@madeinuk

@gentyleman

@meetmeatyourworst

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

[neontoad]

“Chuuya Is a Sore Loser” needs a special edition, Dazai thinks one day, a genius prank idea brewing in his head. He’s not gonna lie - he’s really proud of this plan. He’s the best strategist of the Port Mafia for a reason - and his talents span further than planning missions. 

Step one - install a hidden camera in Chuuya’s kitchen.

Step two - get Chuuya drunk on some shitty wine and watch him embarrass himself, every single bit of his drunken delirium caught on tape. 

Step three - send the video to everyone in the Port Mafia and have a good laugh. With the nature of the prank, he won’t even have to bother with printing the newsletter out. Saving trees AND humiliating the hat rack? 

Sounds like a perfect plan. 

Installing the camera is a piece of cake - Dazai had messed with Chuuya’s apartment so many times, that he’d probably be able to do it in the dark with his eyes closed. 

Luckily, Chuuya immediately agrees to Dazai’s proposal to come over with a bottle of wine, his text message read and answered within seconds. Silly slug - he makes it so easy. Too easy, even. 

Just to be sure the plan works out, Dazai shows up with two bottles. He knows Chuuya has a very low alcohol tolerance, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, right?

After the third glass, Chuuya’s cheeks get all red, a sure sign that he’s almost had a little bit too much. With his brows furrowed and speech slurred he already looks hilarious, but Dazai just knows it’s about to get even funnier. What is Chuuya going to do today? Dance to some obscure Eurodance music? Sing anime openings from the 90s? Tell some trashy story from his Sheep days?

Dazai has no idea and it makes him vibrate with excitement. He glances at the camera and pours some more wine into Chuuya’s glass. He takes a sip and puts the glass on the table with a loud thud. 

The show is about to start, Dazai thinks triumphantly. 

Chuuya makes a strange sound and Dazai giggles internally - seems like the Port Mafia will have the pleasure of seeing the “best” martial artist, the gravity manipulator Nakahara Chuuya throwing up all over his kitchen floor. Perfect. 

Another sound escapes Chuuya’s mouth. And another one. And another, until Dazai, to his horror, realises that Chuuya is sobbing, his shoulders jerking up and down, tears streaming down his red face as he desperately tries to wipe them away. 

“I have no one,” he wheezes through his tears. “They are all gone.”

Dazai takes another glance at the camera, immediately looking back at Chuuya. His eyes are red, his hair sticks to his wet cheeks, and the look in his eyes is eerily unnerving. It’s so raw that it looks like Chuuya can see right through him. Dazai opens his mouth but no sound leaves his mouth. What can he even say?

“I only have you, shitty Dazai,” Chuuya sobs. “You are the only person I have left. Don’t you leave me, too.”

The breakdown as well as the excessive amounts of wine seem to have drained Chuuya of the last of his energy. With his head on the kitchen table, he falls asleep, soft hiccups interrupting his even breathing. 

For a few minutes, Dazai sits still, watching Chuuya’s back go up and down, his wailing still ringing in his ears: “You are the only person I have left”.

He takes the camera and turns it off. 

Chuuya is way too heavy to be carried all the way to the bedroom, so Dazai lays him on the couch in the living room and covers him with a blanket. Tiptoeing around the kitchen, he cleans up, places a glass of water on the coffee table and quietly leaves. 

When Dazai gets home, he breaks the SD card in half. 

He doesn’t sleep that night.

The next day Chuuya doesn’t show up to work. The Port Mafia meetings are even more boring without him, and Dazai wonders if he should go and check on him. 

He doesn’t. 

Chuuya is back the following day. It’s as clear as a day that he tries his best to avoid Dazai, and when he can’t, he averts his gaze and doesn’t react to a single taunt Dazai throws at him. 

Naturally, Dazai comes to Chuuya’s apartment in the evening.

Usually, Chuuya throws something at him, or yells abuse, or kicks him down the stairs when Dazai breaks in. This time, Chuuya’s reaction makes Dazai’s blood freeze. 

“Leave me alone,” he whispers, his face full of horror and… shame?

Dazai takes a step forward.

“Leave me alone,” Chuuya stubbornly says again, stepping back. “Or I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

Unfazed by the empty threats, Dazai crosses the room and looks into Chuuya’s eyes. He can still see the flames hiding in them behind the crippling shame, and he has to admit that the raging fire looks gorgeous with icy blue, contradiction as bright as Chuuya himself. 

“Lea-”

Dazai cuts him short, wrapping his arms around Chuuya’s shoulders and pulling him close, instantly feeling the tension in Chuuya’s body disappear as he slowly raises his arms and wraps them around Dazai’s waist. 

He doesn’t know how long this moment lasts — it could be seconds. Minutes. Centuries. All he knows is that it’s more than enough time to say what he wants to say without using any words. 

Although… There is something that he’d like Chuuya to hear.  

Chuuya’s hair smells of peppermint, and when Dazai leans down to Chuuya’s ear, he thinks that it might easily become his new favourite smell.

“I’m not leaving you.”

Thank you for reading! Nezu on twt made the loveliest artwork for this little story, make sure to check it out!

[rbinsgf]

Turn the other cheek, and I take it on the chin /Part 2/

Part 1

The sky was blue, two and two made four and Eddie was a coward.

Those were the irrefutable truth of the world. Eddie used to call his behavior "self-preservation" when he ran away from cops and angry jocks mob, or when he skipped a class he couldn’t understand, or when he ran away after witnessing one of the most traumatizing death in the history of mankind.

But as he saw Robin Buckley angrily stomping down his stairs and into his basement, he couldn’t qualify his next course of actions of anything but cowardice.

He had known day more glorious but as he shielded himself from the furious woman with a, for once, quite Mike Wheeler, he couldn’t care less about his image in front of his club.

Hypocritical right ? Yeah that’s another truth Eddie was very well aware about himself but who would dare look him in the eye and spit that fact in his face ?

Robin Buckley actually, as she did not hesitate to shove Mike out of the way and grab Eddie by the collar of his worn out Hellfire shirt, bringing him dangerously close to her angry red face, and shoving him against the wall.

"You, Edward Theodore Munson, are the biggest hypocrite I’ve ever seen. How dare you force those big monologues on conformity and "Hawkins’ monster" on us on top of those poor cafeteria tables, only to turn around and do exactly what you so loudly claim to be against ?"

Eddie was petrified, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. The basement was as quiet as ever, everyone seemed to hold their breath, too scared they might remind Robin of their presence.

"Steve changed, actually no, he didn’t change. He just had the courage to show his true self, he stripped away from the role that was forced on him by his parents, friends, everyone in this shitty town and by you too. He would and has put his life on the line so many times for every single one of you," She said the last part louder, slightly tilting her head to the side towards a specific side of the table but never moving her rage filled gaze from Eddie’s wide eyes. "He trusted you Eddie, he confided in you and what did you do ? You humiliated him by using his vulnerability against him. I hope you’re happy your pathetic little audience appreciated the spectacle." A protest formed itself on Jeff’s lips but was quickly shut off by a quick glare and an honest to god growl from Robin.

"You know what truly breaks my heart Eddie ? Steve still defended you and he doesn’t even blame you ! Do with that information what you want but I hope it makes you feel so bad you won’t be able to look yourself in any type of reflection for as long as possible."

She slowly stepped away from him, releasing her grip on his shirt and making a show of dusting him off,

"If you want to know what I think of this shit show Eddie. You don’t deserve him." She turned around, facing the kids, "and you guys are a bunch of ungrateful brats who don’t deserve Steve and all that he does for you."

She only looked at the older Hellfire members with disgust before turning back to Eddie. The man in question was looking at the ground, his head hanging guiltily and shoulder hunched.

Robin stepped back into his space, her mouth close to his ear, and let out her final strike in a quite sigh,

"And to think that man saved your life.."

With that, she left as she came, the front door banging loudly behind her.

That last sentence she had whispered in his ear sent a glacial chill down Eddie’s spine. It stabbed through his chest in plain and shameful guilt. Eddie sat heavily on his throne. A throne that Steve had spent two weeks making since the basketball team had burned his old one when he was on the run. He lost himself in a spiral of shame and regrets, cringing at himself as he pictured how it all went down earlier and how, even after noticing Steve leaving, they’d kept that same behavior. Laughing at the expense of the poor man like hyenas. One by one, the older members left quietly. The kids stayed a little longer, sitting in silence before all leaving in a quiet agreement. Eddie only registered Dustin telling him they will be using the phone to call for a drive home. A drive home that, for the first time since the boys had joined Hellfire, wouldn’t be Steve.

Eddie had fucked up, that much was very clear. He also knew why he said all those horrible things, he craved the validation and admiration of his sheepies and hellfire friends.

The only way he had found to maintain those was to do what he had always done.

To the detriment of his friends, Eddie was a hypocrite, selfish and coward man. Eddie saw an opportunity to remind his club of who he was, Eddie "the Freak" Munson, natural nemesis of the jocks.

Robin’s words kept circling in his mind viciously.

The sheer fury that emanated of her trembling frame was enough for Eddie to imagine how bad his words must’ve affected Steve.

He knew those exact words would hurt him and he still said them.

He also knew Steve, through and through now, and with that came the knowledge of what Steve might be thinking about himself right now.

Because his sweet, kind and good Steve, didn’t even blame him one bit. Eddie’s words had definitely hit a very tender spot in Steve’s myriad of insecurities and self doubts.

The man was probably descending full speed through the worst of his self deprecating thoughts right now.

Eddie wished the bats had eaten him alive as the thought of Steve believing Eddie saw him for who he was not.

Eddie would rather Vecna came back as a zombie than Steve Harrington taking his stupid, stupid words at heart and believing them.

If Eddie was going to do one last thing, it was to make sure that Steve knew he wasn’t seen as anything but the painfully good man he truly was.

Resignation filled his mind and he pushed himself up from the throne, walked out of the basement and took the keys of his van before stepping, in the soon to be dark, street.

Eddie was going to see Steve, apologize but most importantly beg the man to not take Eddie’s words for one of the universe’s truth.

It’ll be the last thing he’ll do if Robin Buckley didn’t kill him before for daring to stand in the same vicinity as her friend.

———————————————

Here’s part 2 !! And Eddie’s pov yay !! I’m so grateful for your response to the first part as it’s also a response to me getting back to writing and it motivates me so much guys !!!

Next part will be up in a few days since I’m going back to college full time but I’ll do my best to update this little fic as soon as possible !

I tried to tag everyone who asked for it and hope it all worked ?

Love y’all gang ! 🫶🏼🧡

Tag list : @liketheocean @cameheretoread @doubleb11 @m-owo-n @moonage-daydreaming @shitnshit @throwbackthrowaway @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @zerokrox-blog @summer1066 @thesuninyaface @i-less-three-than-you @gamerdano @ineffablecolors @warriorwerewolfheart @tinysuits @cr0w-culture @thatonepotatochild @classicwho @lololol-1234 @what-is-life-but-an-empty-void @victor-thee-corvid @little-gae-shit @livelaughlexa @a-little-unsteady @stevie-crow @val-from-lawrence

[avalil18]

I hate to see you like this

Summary: reader is having a difficult time after being released from the hospital and Joe is there to help her get through the hard times.

——————

You were always the happiest person. The person who always had a smile on her face and always laughing. You were a dancer. You loved to dance ever since you were a little girl. Dancing was your sport. Every day after school you would go to the dance studio and stay there for hours just dancing and coming up with your own choreography. You aren’t a person to really show when you are sad or loved to talk about your feelings to anyone except your best friend Joe. Dancing was your way of expressing all of those emotions. You have been dancing for years now. All throughout middle school, high school, and college. It was mid year in 2020 and everyone was in quarantine. Dancing was the one thing you could really get out of the house and do. You were at the studio with your mom. You decided to do a trick you haven’t done in a while. You flipped and turned but ended up doing something wrong and the next thing you know you are in the hospital just out of surgery. Turns out you had to have spinal surgery. You won’t be able to dance again. You were in the hospital for 2 weeks. Family coming in and out of your room asking how you are doing, but the only person you wanted to talk to was Joe. One night Joe came with his parents.

The door opened and you saw joes figure. He walked around your bed and stood right next to you on your right side. He was wearing a green long sleeve with grey sweatpants and he had been trying to grow out a little bit of a beard so he had some scruff. He smiled as he looked at you. You smiled back. The first smile you probably plastered on in weeks. He was the only person you wanted to talk to.

“Hey you!”-joe

“Hi.”-you

“How are you feeling?”-joe

“Shitty.”-you

Joe laughed

“I feel ok, But I’m happy you are here.”-you

“Good, and I’m happy to see you too.”-joe

You two stared at each other for a moment

“Hey, how about we leave you two alone. We will be back!”- your mom

You two looked at her

“Ok”- you and Joe

The parents left the room and now it was just you and Joe.

“Come here.”-you

You patted the empty space next to you. Joe quickly but carefully laid down next to you. You put your head in his chest and quietly feel asleep in joes arms. He also fell asleep.

—————————-

5 weeks later

(At home)

“Hey! Come on in guys!”-your mom

Joe and his parents came over to check on you and see how you are doing. It was late afternoon and you had been in the backyard playing with your dog or at least trying to. It was hard for you to move around. Your back was still in some pain. You were also exhausted. From learning how to stand up again to walking and then physical therapy it was a lot. You didn’t have dance anymore to let all your feelings out. You were in a state of exhaustion and overwhelmed. There was so many emotions going through your head. You couldn’t let all your feelings out like you could while dancing. You talked to your parents saying that recovery has been hard and you don’t know what to feel. You didn’t cry, just spoke.

“Y/n is in the backyard.”-your mom

“How is she doing?”-robin

“Honestly I think it’s been really hard on her. She isn’t really eating and she told me that recovery has been hard on her. You know she doesn’t really like to talk about her feelings and only likes to dance them out, but now she doesn’t have dance anymore. I don’t think she really knows what to do.”-your mom

“Aww poor y/n, we know it’s been hard I her. But she should always know we will be here for her.”- robin

The moms talked for a few minutes.

“Hey Joe, how about you go outside to see y/n. I’m sure she would love to see you!”- your dad

“Yeah, ok!”-joe

It was hard in Joe to see you like this. He knew you were hurting emotionally and physically. He also knew that you don’t really like to talk about your emotions except when it’s with him.

Joe stepped out side and saw you. He thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he has ever laid eyes on. You’re his best friend and the reason he looks forward to waking up everyday. He just loves to see you.

You were wearing grey sweatpants with a cropped grey long sleeve to match. Your hair was long and your little waves were dancing in the breeze. You were standing with your arms crossed and watching your dog play. You were crying. You shed a few tears before you heard the sliding door open and quickly wiped your fallen tears.

“Hey!”-joe

He came up next to you

“Hi.”-you

He could tell you’ve been crying

“Come here.”-joe

You fell into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around you as you cried.

“Shhh it’s ok, it’s ok, I’m right here.”-joe

You haven’t cried this much in weeks. Joe was your shoulder to lean on, but he also sometimes needed your shoulder to lean on too. You cried in his arms letting all your emotions out. You wrapped your arms around him as he did to you. You guys stayed in each other embrace for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry, I probably look like a mess.”-you

“No, no you look beautiful. And don’t be sorry. You know you can come to me for anything.”-joe

You looked up at him with one last tear streaming down your face and a small little smile.

“Thanks Joey, for everything.”-you

“Of course y,n, I’m always here for you. You are my best friend, my ride or die.”- joe

“Awww.”-you

“Hey, I want to take you somewhere.”-joe

“Umm, ok…”-you

He grabbed your hand and took you inside to get a blanket.

“We will be back!”-joe

“Ok! Don’t be too long.”-your mom

“We won’t, I promise.”-joe

You guys walked out the door and into joes car. He just recently bought a Porsche from the money he is making being in the NFL. You guys drove around for a while until you guys reached a place you recognized.

“We are here!”-joe

You looked around for a second

“Is this our spot?”-you

“Yeah! I know you love it here so I decided to take you, get your mind off of things.”-joe

“Aww thank j.”-you

The Spot is a little hill over looking a big green field. There is a big Willow tree on the hill where you both sit under.

You guys walked up the little hill and sat under the tree. The sun was setting and it was a beautiful site. Joe put the blanket over you guys covering your guys legs. You rested your head on his broad shoulder and just stared into the sunset. Joe put his right arm around you and it made you get butterflies.

“I don’t know if you want to answer this but, how are you doing?”-joe

You looked up at him

“Honestly Joe, I feel much better when you are around. My parents are all over me 24/7 asking if I’m ok or need anything. They also ask me how I’m feeling. But I don’t know how to answer them. I just think I’m sad because I can’t dance anymore. Dance was my whole life, my safe space, but now dance is gone. I have been In pain for the last couple weeks and just not feeling well physically and I guess mentally.”- you

I’m sorry y/n that you have to go through this, but know I’m always here for you. I’m your safe space. We are each other’s safe spaces. I’m going to be there when you need a shoulder to lean on always or just someone to talk to. You are my best friend y/n, always have been since middle school. And I love you y/n.

“What..?”-you

“I love you, so much. I can’t breathe or think when I’m next to you. I always want to hold you are talk to you. And I hate seeing you in pain. I couldn’t even walk through your hospital door without telling my parents that I can’t go in because I couldn’t bare to see you in pain. I love you y/n, with my whole heart.”-joe

You grabbed his face and kissed him

“I love you too Joe. And I’m sorry you have to see me like this, but know I’m always going to be there for you too. And I’m so proud of you Joe. Your dream of finally being in the NFL came true and I couldn’t be more proud of you. I love you Mr QB1!”-you

He grabbed your face this time and kissed you.

The sun set and you and Joe were just laughing and talking looking out into the stars.

—————

Authors note: a little bit of deep one but cute! I also hope to get out more of How To Get The Girl out soon too!!🩷

[coalswriting]

domestic / dating headcanons - natalie scatorccio

(approx. 900 words)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

you and natalie started dating after you met her at a party.

you were with your friends, and you had spotted her from across the room, talking with travis.

you were way too many drinks in, and feeling confident, so without thinking, you abruptly ended your conversation with your friends by walking over to natalie.

travis looked irritated the moment you started talking to nat. she did not; you could see underlying relief in the sparkle of her eyes and she listened to you intently as you told her some random fun fact you had heard in biology.

one thing led to another, and you woke up with her in bed with you the next morning.

you panicked, thinking you had done something regrettable with someone you barely knew but she reassured you that the two of you simply came back to yours because you wanted her to paint your nails black and watch a movie.

cool. cool.

natalie didn’t end up leaving for ages that day, and when you saw her in school the following monday, she stuck around you.

you were pretty much glued together and she felt like your other half.

you watched her practices, went to her games, packed her a nutritious lunch every morning (because let’s face it; school lunches suck), and even helped her study.

it didn’t take long for the two of you to start dating; maybe two months of talking consistently every day.

and damn, did she move into your house fast.

your parents weren’t around too much due to work, but they really liked natalie based on the few interactions they had with her, so she was basically free to stay whenever.

your wardrobe instantly became better as natalie let you borrow her clothes, and you even would go shopping together with money you had earned from your part time job as a cinema worker.

speaking of cinema work, you always snuck natalie into movies for free with you when your shift would end. most of the movies, you two would just whisper through and joke around, but when it came to horror movies, natalie was honed and focused. she really loved them, and you loved seeing her enjoyment even though you’d freak out at any sight of gore.

natalie started looking a lot healthier when she moved into your house; she was used to eating shitty oven meals at home due her not having much cooking space nor ingredients, and when you both started cooking together, she loved it too much – you’d say she hasn’t had an oven pizza in months after you had started to date.

you do most of the meal prep whereas natalie cooks. somehow, she’s a natural! you oftentimes come home from work to the kitchen smelling like brownies or whatever delicious dinner she’s decided to make for you. and then, yknow, she leaves you with a sink full of dishes.

natalie isn’t a super affectionate person. she won’t outwardly kiss you or hug you often, but she shows it in different ways. maybe she’ll brush your hair, do your makeup, help you decide an outfit, make you a playlist, or link your pinkies together when youre watching tv.

however, if she gets drunk? that’s a whole different story. she’ll pull you away to make out with you every chance she gets. she would almost escalate it anywhere if it weren’t for you being reasonable and stopping her before things get too hot and heavy.

she’s also a little spoon. i will die on this hill. she’ll sleep facing away from you, but during the night, will push herself towards you until you’re holding her and breathing in the smell of her shampoo. she doesn’t care if it gets too hot, she will literally sleep through the night like a corpse – and then take a shower the next day because she’s all sweaty.  

she’s almost too over-protective at times, literally glaring at anyone that even looks at you wrong. once a guy catcalled the two of you in the hall at school and she literally kicked his locker shut onto his wrist.

his face was worth the detention that you both had to sit through.  

natalie stopped smoking for you. it’s not that you necessarily complained that you didn’t want her to smoke, but you made an off-hand comment once about how you’d love for her to take care of her health more.

and she took that personally. she literally went cold turkey, and you stayed with her the entire time while she was moody, sick, and tired from withdrawal.

natalie’s favourite thing to do is shower. she didn’t have the liberty to shower every day when she lived with her parents, so she basically showers daily at yours, if not twice a day. you don’t mind though; you’re not the one paying for the water.

you’ll oftentimes just sit outside on the toilet while she’s showering and talking to you about a new album she wants to buy or some drama she heard while in the changing rooms for soccer.

speaking of soccer, the yellowjackets think you two are such a weird couple. natalie is so rough, whereas you’re so sweet and caring. you’ll literally come to their practices with bottles of water for everyone and natalie will say some comment along the lines of “she’s mine, all of you find your own fucking girlfriend.”

meanwhile, everyone else is just blinking blankly, not even doing anything to insinuate that they’re trying to steal you.

[goodday-goodmorn]

Little blurb that’s been sitting in my Docs for while based on @auspicioustidings idea from a while ago now i think— But yeah! I’be got like zero motivation to continue this- butttttt i liked the scene a lot so it shall be seen now! (Plus it’s Mhari’s Birthday!!! Happy Birthday Mhari! :> Even though i’m a few hours late into the day Hope you’re having a wonderful birth celebration!)

Based on a a scene i cooked up where reader finally gets caught by none other than the Ghost himself:

The weight of a gun in your hand is familiar.

So is the quiet sounds of a break in. You point at the door, watching, waiting. Like clockwork it creaks open, and there he is.

“Don’t move.”

You say sharply. Making the gun in your hand well known to the intruder.

Silence. He stares at you, you stare back. How many times have you done this dance? Tense words and a dashing messy escape. (The poorly wrapped bandages around your abdomen throb answering you question for you. Too many then.)

You sigh, and lower the gun.

He doesn’t even look suprised.

With a soft, Thump! ,you plop backwards onto the bed, arms outstretched. The gun is still in your hand but it’s dead weight. (Just like you.)

“…You’re not gonna ever stop are you?”

It’s said up at the shitty hotel ceiling. Hushed in the darkness of the room.

“No.”

He says it so simply.

You hum, pulling your knees and legs up onto the bed and rolling over. Back facing him, on your side. You snag a plushie on the way, hugging it close to your chest and settling your chin atop its head.

“Well shit. Turn all my red flags to white then, i give up.”

Defeated. Hushed. Tired. It sounds so unlike your normal voice. “But you already knew that didn’t you?”

There’s a dip in the bed, true to his namesake- he was silent as he walked to sit. You haven’t even heard him.

“…Who did your bandages?” Gruff bastard with his gruff voice. Sounding way too passive for talking with you, an enemy, his target actually. He should be barking orders and threats to you, you’ve heard the way he speaks on a mission before, all bite and harsh. But he shows none of that tension now. Not a lick of hostility.

“Who do you think?” You snort out, tucking your face into the head of the plushie and vehemently ignoring him.

“Kid, you need help. You can’t survive on your own.” Straight to business it seems.

Without even turning to look at him, you halfheartedly raise your middle finger.

He sighs.

Silence. Blissful, damning, silence. You’ve no more fight left to give and he knows it. Months on the run, months of constant near death escapes, months of being hunted like a dog. You’re tired. So tired.

“Ya know, Torture isn’t an effective way of getting info outta someone: statistically speaking.”

“We’re not gonna torture you.”

“But you do want that info don’t you?”

More silence.

You hum knowingly.

“And what happens after you get your precious information? You’ll kill me? Maim me like all the other fuckers who end up in your shit list?”

“No. Never.”

He says it with such ferocity it almost takes you by surprise for a second. If you were to be facing him, you would see the hardness of his eyes. The pure conviction swarming in his gaze.

“Not you. Never you.”

…

Finally you turn to him, feeling far too much like a young little kid on the playground who just can’t understand-

“Why?”

Something in his gaze softness. He wants to tell you this because he cares. The team cares. All of them- that they saw you, a prickly, panicked little bird in over their head and flying blind- but he knows it an answer you won’t accept. One you won’t understand. Not at this stage. Not yet. You don’t believe in words, you’ve been lied too far too many times for that.

So he says something you will believe. A watered down version of the truth that feels like such a disservice to everything that makes up your very being.

“You’re interesting.”

You seem to digest his words. Turning them over and thinking in that little head of yours.

‘How long is that interest gonna last?’

That's what you want to say. You want to scream at the top of your lungs that he doesn’t want you. No one does. He’ll get sick of your brashness eventually- he’ll learn and grow used to your tricks. And when your spontaneity grows old, you know what’ll happen.

But you don’t.

You say nothing except—

“…Can I at least pack my bags? …please?”

He knows you don’t have much to pack. He also knows you’re one tricky, flighty little bird. However, he heard your small plea, sees the defeated look in your eyes, the way your hand is so lax around the gun.

Gently, oh so gently, he takes the gun from your hand. You don’t even try and fight him.

“Sorry little bird. Can’t trust you to pack.”

The sad look on your face nearly makes him reconsider. But he can’t risk you getting away again. Not when you’re so easy to catch right now. So vulnerable.

“Can’t you restrain me and then i’ll tell you what to pack?”

That, he can do.

“Up.”

Commands come so naturally to him. You’re almost jealous at how easily they fall from his lips.

Like the old defeated dog you are, you listen, sitting up and presenting your hands to him to restrain. You don’t meet his eyes.

He takes no chances, you are securely bound with a pair of handcuffs. He tugs on them, standing you up and nudging you to the common area of your hotel room. It’s a sizable room, a nice hotel, though truthfully you hadn't really been thinking when you booked it. Brain to frazzled and exhausted to think about anything beyond a clean bed and a hot shower.

The lights are flicked on by his gloved hands, flooding your vision. You hiss blinking and adjusting while he nudges you to the center of the room, down into your knees.

“What am I looking for here, bird?”

Your gaze flicks to him, then to the corner of the room, a vent right by a little corner desk with a lamp.

He follows your gaze and then, (with one last hard look towards you that screams ‘stay’), he walks over. Inside the vent is a crumpled up backpack, old and raggedy. It looks out of place amongst the clean cream colors of the hotel amenities.

He prods at the thing, trained caution. (You don’t blame him after your last stunt with explosives.)

Unceremoniously he opens up the bag and dumps all its contents on the floor. You wince, watching your whole life be scattered on the ground.

A journal, a thermal blanket, a lighter, cash, USB sticks, Your laptop in its thick padded casing (thank god), stolen hotel amenities, nicotine patches, several pill bottles, a half empty water bottle, a pocket knife, bullets…

Your own personal little horde of trinkets.

“Was that necessary…?” You mutter, as he stuffs some stuff back into the bag.

“Can’t blame me for bein’ cautious.”

“Well- i could.”

He turns to look at you. Just… stares at you, all you can see is his eyes at that dreadful mask, boring into yours. He doesn’t need to say anything. You both know you could but you never. Been through too much to really blame him.

You’ve saved his life before, even though he was hunting you. You both know you would never blame him for doing his job. Not at this point.

(Just as he would never blame you for running.)