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railingsofsorrow · 4 months

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old habits

a/n: in honour of cm:evolution new trailer that I saw emily holding a pack of cigarettes.

pairing: emily prentiss x f!bi!BAU!reader

warnings/content: exes with feelings trope; smoking; past relationships; discussion about marriage and family being overbearing; this is sad.

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

[part 2] [part 3]

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“you're back at it?”

emily's head tilted to watch you approach from her peripheral vision.

you watched as her grey strands fell from her shoulder as she turned her neck.

one of the best things emily did was let her hair take on her natural colour, instead of dying it black continuously. she's beautiful regardless, especially with messy hair and her sleepy face as soon as she wakes up— and now you're spiraling.

your brain seemed to forget that she's no longer your girlfriend and kept on hunting you with memories you can't get back to.

she was playing with the pack of cigarettes as she admitted out loud, “mhm. trying not to, but—”

“you're stressed.”

her lips quirked up and she looked up at you, a hint of a smile. it wasn't a happy one. “that's one way to put it.”

you looked down at your shoes as you leaned to where she was sitting. eye contact was something you couldn't hold for long, it was hard and awkward. it didn't used to be like that. you could stare at emily the entire day and not look away for a second.

“what's stressing you out?” your voice was slightly muffled by the collar of your coat. it was cold, you find it absurd how emily never even flinched at the wind. she had always been warmer than you but had the coldest hands on earth.

“just needed some fresh air.”

you offered her a blank look.

she closed the lid of the pack, leaving it aside before she spoke again. if she did that out of respect for you or if she didn't felt like smoking anymore, you didn't care. both were good reasons.

“what's stressing you out?” she threw back.

“my mom called.” you eyed her hand for a moment, wondering if they were still as cold as you remembered them to be. clearing your throat and shaking your head to deviate your thoughts to a better and solid place, you said, “she wants to know when I'm going to visit because, you know, uh... she wants to introduce me to someone.”

a beat.

“oh.” emily let out a forced chuckle. “she wants to set you up with a guy.”

“precisely.” which is what your mother always did, even after you introduced emily as your long term girlfriend. her calls were always about finding someone good for you while you were in a relationship.

it was frustrating but you could handle it since you were never at her place anymore. you visited, yes, but five times a year, maybe. never more than that. you never told her you and emily had broke up.

“and do you want it? to meet him?”

a scoff left your lips, “no. it will probably be some religious prick who will want to control my life like my dad controlled hers.”

“she must be crazy about the idea of planning your wedding.”

you nodded, staring distractedly into the horizon.

“probably,” you said, “but it's never happening, so.”

“why would you say that?” you could see her frown through her tone of voice. “it can still happen.”

you leaned back slightly, inhaling with your eyes closed. your nose was definitely pink and you were starting you feel your fingers become numb, but the night sky and the quietness made you enjoy the moment.

and the company, of course.

“i don't want to.”

“get married?” she had a puzzled look while she studied you. and you let her profile you in that moment, even if you despised when she did that. “you used to want it.”

there are some things that are better left unsaid. in order for you to end a cycle, you have to do something to move on. so you say things that need to be said and leave out the ones that will come to the surface later. the what ifs.

you blamed the moon for your choice or words next.

“i used to want it, yes. when I was with you.”

you ignored the deafening silence that installed itself between the two of you, deciding to bask in the rare peaceful moment without seeing dead bodies and without hunting serial killers.

“i didn't know that.” she surprised you by breaking the silence. you thought she would've just pretended you didn't say anything and move on.

move on.

why is it so hard?

“you thought about marrying me?”

yes, please, torture me like that, emily prentiss. you're awfully good at that.

“emily, I thought about everything with you.”

“why?” she sounded genuinely confused.

“because I loved you.” you said matter-of-fact. “and I... you know what? I'm gonna head back inside. it's freezing out here.” you abruptly cut the conversation short. otherwise you'd say something you'd regret later and all the moving on you did in the last few years would go down the drain. a moment didn't change anything.

emily's icy fingers held you by the elbow and your breath failed for a second.

“i'm sorry.”

“no, don't do that.” you begged, pulling your arm back and out of her reach. you'd done that before, you remembered how you ended up. you're not going back there again.

she let you go, folding her arms across her chest as if she felt cold for the first time that night. she eyed the pack of cigarettes, taking a minute to remind herself of the progress she made for not smoking in the past months.

and your voice rang through her head as walked back inside the building.

“it's not good for you.” you said one night when she thought you were sleeping. your arm wrapped around her middle and you tucked your nose in the crook of her neck. she leaned back immediately, her body finding the comfort in seek in your warm touch.

she pulled the cigarette away from her mouth and stared at it. “i know.”

you kissed the back of her shoulder, rubbing softly the side of her waist. “why'd you wake up? nightmare?”

“yeah, I didn't want to wake you up too.” she grimaced, turning her head so your eyes could meet. you gave her an eye roll.

“you didn't but you should. I don't like you alone with your mind catastrophizing everything.”

and look how she ended up.

lonely. with her mind catastrophizing everything.

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a/n: i need to write some emily fluff....

#emily prentiss x reader #lesbian emily prentiss #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfic

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stylesispunk · 9 months

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"The not so invisible string" | part 2

Not outbreak! Joel Miller x f! Reader

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other at the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

chapter summary: You and Joel had a "lunch" together and some things were said, and the past between you both is meeting the present.

word count: 5k.

warnings: angst, implications of cheating (emotional). I probably made some grammar mistakes because I write things fast. Not proofreading, ups. Italics are flashbacks <3

a/n: Chapter two is here!! Thank you so much for your nice comments and appreciation for the previous chapter, I didn't think it would be good enough but thanks for appreciating. This one is less intense than the first one, but we still have a story to develop. I'm on my summer break from work, so I hope to have time to keep writing. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌 p.s if you wann be taglisted, please I'm so shy so I feel asshamed of tagging people if you don't tell me 😳 and if I forgot someone, sorry 😭

dividers by @/saradika

"Are you waiting to see her again?" Sarah asked when Joel was parking outside school before driving to his job.

"Who?" He asked, trying to dismiss the nagging feeling settled in his stomach at the minimum possibility of seeing you again.

"Tara's mom?" She said, leaning toward his dad, "What's the issue with her, by the way? Was she your ex or something?”

"No,” he said immediately.

“So why did you get so nervous?"

"She is the love of my life," he confessed, not turning his face to Sarah in shame of being seen in such a vulnerable state.

When you were a parent, you never showed yourself vulnerable in front of your children; you never allowed them to see that part of you that’s beneath what they knew. But when they grow up, they understand you would never be a hero, but a human living life for the first time too.

Sarah's eyes widened at Joel's unexpected confession. The revelation hung in the air, leaving a palpable tension inside the car.

"The love of your life?" Sarah echoed, her voice a mix of surprise and curiosity. "But you never mentioned her before."

Joel sighed, his eyes fixed on the steering wheel as if it held the answers to a long-buried history. "It's complicated," he finally admitted. "We were each other's first love, but things didn't work out. We went our separate ways, and I thought I had moved on."

"But seeing her again..." he continued, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. "I never expected her to be here again."

Sarah studied Joel's profile, recognizing the struggle in his eyes. "And what about Tara's mom? Does she feel the same way?"

"I don't know," Joel confessed, a heaviness settling in his chest. "It's been thirteen years, and a lot has changed. She has a daughter now, and I have my own life."

Sarah reached out, placing a comforting hand on her dad’s shoulder. "Well, life is surprising," she said. "Maybe it's a chance for both of you to find closure, or maybe even something more. Who knows?"

Joel nodded, the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future swirling around him.

“Perhaps” He said, “Okay, now go to class before you get late.” He hurried Sarah, but before she closed the door, a bolt of thought invaded his mind before he could even think.

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

She nodded.

“Ask Tara for her mother’s number, please.”

Sarah grinned, nodding her head and blowing a kiss to his father.

The days had passed, and life had settled into a new routine for you, unemployed and doing house chores, feeling just as the same twenty-two-year-old you once were.

But that wasn’t your only thought in the back of your mind. Since the day you had seen Joel, you hadn’t been able to take him off your mind, and as if it weren’t already difficult, Tara and Sarah were slowly becoming best friends, just as you and Joel were someday back when you had anything to lose.

For Joel, things weren’t different. There wasn’t a second of the day since he had seen you that he hadn’t thought about you. About how gorgeous you still looked and how much he had missed you for the past years. Despite the investable passing of time, the past seemed to cast a long shadow over the present; he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that had resurfaced since he saw you.

Late one night, he found himself staring at his phone. Since Sarah got your number from Tara, he has been doing the same, contemplating whether to send a message. The words formed in his mind, but typing them out was a whole different thing for him. Trapped between the enormous desire to know about you or to let go of the best thing that had ever happened to him.

But before he could even formulate the thought, he pressed send.

Unknown number

"Hi, it’s me, Joel"

Your phone vibrated on your side of the bed.

"Honey?" Dwight called out,

“Yes?" you asked from the bathroom.

“Why is a Joel messaging you at this hour?”

You paused, the sensation of cold cream on your fingertips suddenly forgotten. The name "Joel" seemed too foreign on Dwight's lips; you even felt guilty.

"It's probably just something about Tara," you replied, forcing nonchalance into your tone. But the unease crept into your voice, betraying the facade.

Dwight's curiosity lingered in the room as you picked up your phone. The screen illuminated with a new message, and the familiar ache resurfaced in your heart.

Unknown number

Sorry for sending this at this time, but I've been thinking a lot about you since our unexpected meeting, and I was wondering if we could talk. No pressure, just a conversation.

You felt a mix of emotions—surprise, apprehension, and a tinge of curiosity. The late-night timing added an unexpected layer of intensity to the message.

"Honey, is everything okay?" Dwight's voice carried a note of concern.

"Yeah, it's probably about Tara or something. I'll go better call him,” you replied, forcing a smile. But deep down, you knew that hearing his voice through a phone would do enough damage to you.

“Hello sunshine! How it’s my best girl doing?” he exclaimed, his sleepy voice from this time in the morning melted you.

“I’m better now that you called”

“Remember I’m always just a call away from you, doe”

The hallway felt colder as you left the room, and the phone gripped tightly in your hand. Your heart raced against your chest, its rhythm echoing the uncertainty of the moment. As you pressed the button to call Joel, each second felt like an eternity.

The phone rang once, twice, and on the third ring, Joel's voice filled the air. "Hello?"

"How did you get my number?” you asked

"I... "I... uh, well," Joel stammered on the other end of the line, a hint of unease in his voice. "Sarah got it from Tara.”

Your mind raced with a mix of emotions—surprise, frustration, and a touch of understanding due to your daughters’ becoming friends.

"You could have asked," you replied, the tension evident in your voice. "But fine, what did you want to talk about?"

There was a pause, and you could almost hear Joel gathering his thoughts on the other end. "I've been thinking a lot about the past, about us," he admitted. "I never got the chance to properly apologize for how things ended. I just want to talk, to understand, and maybe find closure."

Closure. The word hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the years gone by.

You didn’t want to have closure with him; you didn’t want to forget.

"Joel, it's been thirteen years," you said, a mix of weariness and frustration coloring your words. "We've both moved on. What's the point of digging up the past now?"

"I know, and I respect that," Joel responded, his tone earnest. "But I've carried the weight of what happened between us for a long time. Maybe talking about it will help both of us. Besides Sarah and Tara, we could talk about them."

You sighed, the complexity of the situation settling around you. "Fine, let's meet. But just this once. I have a life, Joel, and I can't afford to let the past disrupt it."

"Thank you," Joel said, a note of gratitude in his voice. "I appreciate this, truly. Let's find a time.

"Tomorrow,” you said, interrupting his rambling.

Tomorrow? It seemed like too soon you were conflicted between the desire to see him again and the guilt of not being able to erase that part of your life.

“Okay, tomorrow at lunch” he spoke after what it seemed like minutes “I’ll send you the address.”

“Okay.” You whispered, “Have a goodnight, Joel”

“Good night, doe” he replied, before realizing how he had called you, he ended the call leaving you with no chance to answer back.

You were speechless, and the hallway felt emptier than before. Nobody had called you “Doe” since you parted ways with Joel, as if the nickname was forbidden from the lips of any person who wasn’t him, carrying a reminder of a time when the two of you shared your own language.

“From now on I’m calling you, Doe”

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head

“Because you looked so innocent with those bright eyes of you and you remind me of Bambi but I don’t want to call you that”

“What’s wrong with Bambi?”

“Nothing” he replied, “We could actually be like Bambi and Thumper”

As you walked back into the bedroom, Dwight looked up from his book, sensing the turmoil in your expression. "Everything okay?"

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yes, just Joel wants to meet tomorrow to talk."

Dwight raised an eyebrow, concern etched on his face. "Are you sure about this? You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. I can go."

"No, I know," you replied, sinking onto the bed. "But it’s nothing bad... I actually know Joel from before. "You confessed without looking at Dwight.”

Dwight's expression softened as he processed your confession. "Before we met?"

You nodded, finally meeting his gaze. "Yeah, Joel and I have history. We were close—really close. We were actually best friends,” you said, omitting the “he is the love of my life” part.

Understanding flickered in Dwight's eyes, and he reached out, gently cupping your face. "You don't have to go through with this if it makes you uncomfortable. I trust you, and I trust whatever decision you make."

A mix of gratitude and guilt welled up within you. "I appreciate that, Dwight.”

He nodded, offering a supportive smile. "I'll be here for you, no matter what."

After that, Dwight closed his book and said goodnight to you, falling asleep a few minutes later. It seemed odd for you, but you couldn’t help but feel weird because of his attitude, as if he didn’t care about you meeting with another guy.

Dwight's seemingly indifferent response to your revelation about Joel left you feeling conflicted. Was it a sign of trust and confidence in your commitment to the present, or was there an undercurrent of something else?

As you drove to the restaurant Joel had suggested, your mind buzzed with memories of your shared past. The streets seemed to echo with the laughter and conversations of your younger selves. Navigating through familiar lanes, you couldn't escape the gravitational pull of nostalgia.

The restaurant's entrance loomed ahead, and you found yourself hesitating. The realization struck—this wasn't just a casual meeting; it was a reunion with someone who had once been the center of your world.

Once you stepped inside the restaurant Joel told you about, you were faced with reality. You were a married woman, going to have lunch not with another man who was your ex-boyfriend but with the love of your life. Your heart was beating so hard against your ribcage that you almost felt how your bones crashed at the impact.

You stopped at the entrance; your face was heating up. You wanted to leave, but before you could even make up your mind, those brown eyes found you, and you couldn't turn away.

Breathe in, breathe out.

One step, then another step.

It seemed like hours, but there you were, in front of the boy with brown eyes who put a bandage on your knee when you fell on the pavement at 5 years old. You were there in front of the teenager who kissed you at seventeen on a random night after doing homework in your bedroom.

You had decided to conquer the world—or at least the little corner of it that belonged to your shared imagination. As you ran through the streets, giggles and laughter echoing, it happened—the inevitable collision with the ground. Your knees met the pavement, and the sting of scraped skin sent tears streaming down your cheeks.

That's when Joel appeared, like a knight in a tiny superhero cape. His mom, hearing the commotion, had rushed him outside to play. In his hand, he held a box of colorful, cartoon-themed band-aids. With the unwavering confidence of a five-year-old, he approached you.

"Don't cry, okay? I've got something to fix you up," Joel declared, his eyes wide with sincerity.

As he carefully placed a band-aid on your scraped knee, something shifted. It was more than just a simple act of putting on a band-aid; it was the beginning of a connection that would thread through the fabric of your lives for years to come.

"See, all is better!" Joel announced, grinning proudly as if he had just mended the universe. “I’m Joel,” he said happily. “What’s your name?”

You were surprised and speechless; you felt enamored by the kid in front of you, but in your brain, the boy was still gross.

Joel's expression mirrored a mix of surprise and recognition. For a moment, the world seemed to pause as you both stood there, caught in the gravity of your intertwined past.

But it seemed to be the night you were back in the house he had bought with the help of his parents, where you were supposed to grow old together. It looked like that night you came back, hoping to begin again.

But it wasn't, and time didn't stop because two lovers couldn't survive in the currents of the sea.

"Hi, doe," he greeted you, standing up from his seat.

Doe.

"Joel," you greeted back, gracing a small smile.

"Lovie" is forbidden now.

"Please, take a seat," he said, signaling at the seat in front of him.

You didn't know how to react, what to do, or what to say, so you sat on the chair, trying to ease your heart's beating.

Joel's gaze never left your form; instead, it traveled down your figure, but the golden band on your finger stopped his curious gaze, and somehow he felt the urge to cry.

He had always pictured the shiny rock he had bought for you back those years ago, wrapped around your finger.

If he had told you he spent those late nights doing extra work only to buy that piece of jewelry for you, perhaps you would be the one wearing it now, and in this situation, it would be one of those moments you share lunch between your work schedules.

But that shiny ring wrapped echoes of missed opportunities, and the haunting what-ifs painted a poignant portrait of a love that had slipped through his fingers.

You had been waiting, the anticipation mingling with worry as the hands of the clock inched forward. The scent of a hastily prepared dinner lingered in the air, growing colder with each passing minute. Joel's absence, became a palpable presence in the room.

As the door finally creaked open, revealing Joel's figure in the dim light, a wave of emotions crashed over you. The relief of his arrival was quickly overshadowed by the frustration that had been building within.

"Joel, do you have any idea what time it is?" you snapped, the words escaping before you could temper the edge in your voice.

Joel's expression shifted, caught off guard by the sudden confrontation. "I lost track of time at work. I'm sorry," he offered, attempting to diffuse the tension.

The apology, however, fell on ears numbed by the repetition of similar excuses. The words that followed, laden with accusations and frustrations, transformed the night into a battleground of emotions. The promises made in the glow of love were replaced by the harsh reality of unmet expectations.

"I can't do this, Joel. I can't keep waiting for you every night," you uttered your voice a mix of exhaustion and hurt.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "I'm doing all of this for us. I'm working hard to provide for our future."

He had never sold the ring; he couldn't do it, thinking you would have come back to your home and built your story from the cracked fragments.

But he had made a mistake; however, that mistake that made you slip through his fingers brought his daughter to him, and he couldn’t find the strength to blame that night anymore.

And he thought that for you, it may have been the same; you have had a daughter too, and he knows that you love her more than life itself.

It was almost poetic; the mistakes that had separated you had, in a strange twist of fate, become the catalyst for a reunion. The bond between Joel and his daughter, the same bond you had with Tara, seemed to mirror the intricate threads that wove your lives together once again.

“So, how have you been?” he began asking.

“I thought you wanted to talk about our daughters,” you replied, deflecting the conversation to the common ground that had brought you back together.

Joel's eyes held a glimmer of nostalgia. "Come on, Doe, you know I care about you."

“Please don’t call me that,” you pleaded in almost a whisper.

Joel's expression shifted, a mix of realization and regret flickering across his features. "I'm sorry," he apologized, the sincerity in his voice evident. "I didn't mean to.”

“But I’ve been fine.” You finally said that, looking at him.

“I’m glad,” he said. “I can’t help but be surprised about you being Tara’s mother."

“Why? Is it too hard to believe I’m a mother?”

Joel's eyes softened, and he shook his head. "No, it's not that. It's just... it's surreal, you know? Seeing you as a mother, I mean, Tara is the same age as Sarah.”

“I got pregnant a few months after we..."

“We broke up,” he said, ending the sentence for you.

“Yes. I met Dwight one night, and I got pregnant.”

“You got over things soon, then,” he added in an undertone.

“What does that mean?” You asked in a defensive tone.

Joel sighed, a mixture of emotions playing across his face. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just... seeing you move on so quickly, it's

"No, tell me!” you exclaimed. “Do you think it was going to be easy for me to stay with you while you take care of another woman who was carrying your baby? 2

“Yet, you still had a daughter with another man.”

“So what? It was forbidden for me to hook up with a guy because I was fucking broke. Yes, I ended up pregnant, but...

“But what?” he inquired.

“It should have been you!" You cried, not knowing why you were acting so childish. "It was always supposed to be you." You repeated, calmer, "Since we were seventeen, I picture you being the father of my child."

Joel's gaze held a mix of surprise and remorse, realizing the depth of your emotions. "Doe, I never meant to hurt you. I had my own struggles, and I made mistakes."

"It's not about the mistakes, Joel," you said, wiping away a tear. "It's about the dreams we had and how they shattered. I loved you, and I imagined a future with you.

The silence that followed was suffocating, filled with the weight of unsaid words and the echoes of a shared past. The restaurant seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of unresolved emotions.

“You know this is repeating again,” you chuckled between tears. “I’m here with you while I’m crying all over again. I had to leave my job and move back to the city that throws the past in my face, and I can’t find a job."You covered your face with your hands.

Joel's eyes held a mixture of empathy and regret as he listened to your words. The ache of the past lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the dreams that had slipped through your fingers.

"I wish I could change it all," Joel confessed, his voice heavy with the weight of shared regrets. "I never wanted you to leave, and seeing you hurt now... it hurts me too."

"But we can't go back," you replied with a resigned tone in your voice. "We're both different people now, living different lives. Maybe it's time to accept that some wounds don't fully heal."

“But we can be civil to each other, at least for our daughter’s sake,” he said, his voice soft.

You looked at him, your tear-streaked face reflecting a mixture of pain and acceptance. For a moment, you considered his words, acknowledging the shared responsibility of raising daughters who were connected by a blossoming friendship.

"Yeah," you agreed, a weary smile on your face. "We owe it to them to be civil, to show them that even when things don't work out, people can still be respectful and caring."

Joel nodded, a somber understanding passing between you. At that moment, you both recognized the importance of setting aside personal grievances for the sake of your daughters.

“You know? About the job, Tommy and I need an assistant.”

Your eyes widened at Joel's unexpected offer; the surprise was evident on your face. The mention of a job opportunity brought a glimmer of hope amid the emotional turbulence. It was as if a door, long thought closed, cracked open with the possibility of a new beginning.

"An assistant?" you repeated, the idea taking a moment to sink in. "Are you serious?"

Joel nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I am. We're expanding, and having you would be nice.”

"I appreciate the offer," you finally said, your voice cautious. "But-

“Just think about it; if you want the job, you can call me tomorrow or go to our office," Joel added, his tone sincere.

“You know what? He asked after your silence, leaning into the table, "You are still looking at me with the same eyes you did before.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his observation. There was a moment of vulnerability in his eyes—a flicker of the past that hadn't entirely dissipated. The connection between you, despite the years and the changes, lingered in the unspoken words that floated in the air.

"I don't know what you mean," you replied, attempting to mask the emotions that swirled within.

Joel chuckled softly, a nostalgic warmth in his gaze. "Doe, you always had this way of seeing through me. Even now, those eyes of yours... they haven't changed."

"I'm married."

“So what? Can’t you have friends? He asked.

“What about Sarah’s mother? Wouldn’t she get mad at you for being with your ex-girlfriend?"

“That’s funny because we’re not together,” he confessed with a weird smile on his face. “We never were together. After Sarah was born, she left us.”

The revelation hung in the air, a mix of surprise and confusion settling between you. The complexity of his past mirrored your own, and in that shared vulnerability, there was an unspoken understanding.

"I'm sorry to hear that," you offered, genuine sympathy in your voice.

"It's okay," Joel replied, a shrug accompanying his words. "She is married to another man, and she had a son, but I won because I had Sarah.”

“It’s fun how our daughters brought us together,” you said calmly.

"It's true," Joel acknowledged, a wistful smile playing on his lips. Our daughters seem to be the common thread weaving through our lives now."

You smiled, feeling butterflies dancing inside your stomach. The closeness to Joel felt foreign yet so familiar, and all the sentiments making your way through your heart were there again, suffocating you.

“I should get going,” you said, out of the blue.

“But you haven't eaten yet.”

“I know, but it’s getting late, and I have to go back to my house.”

"Okay,” he said, knowing you were making a lie to run away again, yet he didn’t pressure you.

"I appreciate you taking the time to talk," Joel said, breaking the silence. "And about the job, just think it over. No pressure. Whatever you decide, I'm here for you, even if it's just as a friend."

“Thank you, Joel,” you smiled.

And when you walked away to leave the restaurant, you stopped by the door just to have a second look at him, and when you turned, he was looking at you just as you knew he would.

You smiled at him, and he smiled back at you, mouthing a quiet "take care" in a language only your interlocked gazes understood.

And once you stepped outside, he was left in the restaurant, following you with his eyes.

You weren't the mother of his friend's daughter, but the girl in two ponytails was crying because of a scratch on her knee.

You were once his best friend,

You were once his lover, but that word was a small portion of what you were to him. No, you weren't his lover, but his twin flame that painted every single day of his life blue—the flame that never allowed him to dream about anybody else but you.

And you were the love of his life.

But Joel would do anything to get back on the first step, just to keep you close. He would rather have you back as his best friend than not have you anymore, even if his heart hurts in the process.

You were never his, but he felt the string pulling you together, just like the unbreakable chain you had hanging around your neck since he had memories of you, and he was going to do things right this time because he wasn't able to play pretend knowing there was no gap between you anymore.

You drove around the city for an hour straight, navigating through the streets. Joel used to drive you around when trying to ease your mood after fights with your parents.

You had taken your love and packed it in a tiny little box to protect your heart from breaking.

And when you stopped outside your house, you cried. You sobbed like a little girl waking up from a nightmare. Joel still echoed in your mind, and you accepted that you would never be able to let that part of your life go, so you sobbed, and in that moment of vulnerability, you allowed yourself to grieve for what was lost.

“Pretty girls shouldn’t cry,” Joel said when you didn’t say your name after his introduction.

As the tears subsided, you took a deep breath, the weight in your chest easing slightly, and you stepped out of your car and walked to your house.

The key turned in the lock, the door creaked open, and you stepped into the coldness of your home. You thought about the offer Joel talked to you about, but accepting would be a suicide, and as tempting as the invitation seemed at the edge of your consciousness. However, spending more hours of the day seeing him seemed like being unfaithful to your husband.

As you walked into the living room, Tara glanced up from her phone, and you noticed the concern in her eyes.

"Hi, mom," Tara said, greeting you with a smile on her face.

"Hey, sweets," you said, smiling back at her.

"How was it with Joel?" she asked, setting aside her phone.

"It was... complicated," you admitted, sinking onto the couch beside her.

Tara placed a supportive hand on your shoulder. "Complicated how?"

"He offered me a job," you explained, "and it's not an easy decision to make."

"A job? Why?" Tara asked, her curiosity piqued.

"He thought it could be a good opportunity for us," you replied, choosing your words carefully.

Tara's eyes widened in realization.

“To rekindle our friendship,” you said, before she thought badly of you.

"Are you considering it?"

You sighed, grateful for your daughter's understanding. "I don't know, sweetheart. It's a lot to think about. It's not just a job; it's a connection to our past, to him."

Tara nodded thoughtfully. "Well, whatever you decide, I'm here for you. Just make sure it's what you want.”

“And what about your dad?” you asked

“He is not your boss."

Tara's straightforward response made you chuckle. "No, he's not. But he's my husband, and I should consider his feelings too."

Tara rolled her eyes. "Mom, you're allowed to have a life outside of being a wife.”

You admired Tara's maturity, appreciating the clarity in her perspective. "You've grown into a wise young woman, you know that?"

A hint of a smile touched Tara's lips. "Well, I've had a good teacher." She leaned in for a hug, and you embraced her, thankful for the bond you shared.

You found yourself alone with your thoughts. The house was quiet, and the decision about Joel's job offer lingered in the air like a delicate whisper. You knew it wasn't just about work; it was about revisiting a past that had shaped you in ways you couldn't deny.

Later, after Tara had gone to do her homework, you found yourself alone with your thoughts. The house was quiet, still not in sight of Dwight coming home, and the decision about Joel's job offer lingered in the air like a delicate whisper. You knew it wasn't just about work; it was about revisiting a past that had shaped you in ways you couldn't deny.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up your phone and dialed Joel's number. The call rang for a few moments, and then his voice filled the silence. "Hello?"

"Hi, Joel. It's me," you said, the hesitation evident in your voice.

"Doe?" he responded, surprised.

"What did I say about calling me that?" you asked, with a tiny smile on your face.

“Right. I’m sorry”

"I've been thinking about your job offer. Can we meet tomorrow at your workplace to talk about it?"

A brief pause followed, and then Joel replied, "Of course, I'll text you the address.”

"Okay,” you said. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow,” he replied. “Take care.”

The call ended, leaving you with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty about what was coming into your life again.

Towards the end of the conversation, Tommy glanced at Joel with a skeptical smile on his face. "Do we really need an assistant?" he inquired, unaware of his brother's hidden intentions.

"No," Joel replied, a smile playing on his lips. "But we're going to have one."

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @missladym1981

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puckarchives · 9 months

Text

personally, i found it very attractive: l. hughes

blurb: in which an interview with the devils' upcoming rookie takes the intern by suprise. / word count: 1.5k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

To be fair, all that I wanted to do was leave the Prudential Center, go home, and take a long bath. The game between the New Jersey Devils and the New York Rangers had gone into overtime, and as much as I loved my job, it truly had been a long day.

Flashing my lanyard at the security guard standing outside of the Devils' locker room, I was ushered into the room, joining the growing cohort of other journalists; writers who had made their entire career off of reporting on the comings-and-goings in the sports world. Now that the team had been solidified with major additions, and taken players off of their Injury Report roster, the Devils had put up a good fight against their Hudson River rivals.

Grabbing my phone and opening voice notes, I made a beeline for the one player that I needed to cover— Luke Hughes, one of the newest additions to the Devils, and a hell of a defenseman that I needed to talk to on his play earlier on the ice. And, thanks to the work I had put in weeks before trying to get this same interview, I had the opportunity to actually talk to him, instead of having to wait around in a circle while other journalists droned on (and asked) practically the same questions over and over again.

I had fallen in love with sports journalism because of this— because of the opportunity to speak with the players who have it their all on that ice, and who had a true passion for the game they played.

I once again flashed my I.D. to one of the team's publicists, Sharyl, and she smiled over at me— shaking my hand and calling over Luke.

"Hi Y/N! How are you holding up over this season?" she asked as we stood in our corner, both angled to see the player coming towards us.

"Hi Sharyl, I'm doing well! Just finished up my third-year, and I just need this last interview to finish up the project I've been working on these past few weeks," I told her. It was true— I had been working on this player profile for the past few weeks, and currently, this single nineteen-year-old rookie was the only person left on my list before I could publish the article that I was hoping would help my career.

"Oh that sounds so good, sweetheart! I know just how many hours you've been putting in here, and I'm so excited to read!" the older lady said.

"Here's Luke now!" she said, saying hello to the defenseman, and then turning back to me.

"Luke, this is Y/N, the reporter I mentioned from ESPN's journalism internship cohort. She's just going to go over a few things with you, and finish up her profile," she told the curly-haired boy.

"Hi, Luke, I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you!" I spoke up, putting my hand out for him to shake.

It seemed to take him a few moments to catch up with me; and, to be fair, that was to be expected. I was his age, and from the way Sharyl was speaking about me, you'd expect me to be much older, or even a man. When I had begun working for ESPN's College Internship program, I had started with baseball as my main coverage sport— slowly growing from that to hockey as the seasons changed, and then, finally, landing on the Devils as my main beat at the beginning of the season. With all that, however, I knew the way people looked at me— questioning as to why an eighteen year old college student was interviewing men in sports that others thought I didn't even know existed, or even know how they worked. So, his reaction was expected.

The six-two boy in front of me seemed to be struck out of whatever stupor he was in, however, and shook my hand back.

"Hi, Y/N, it's nice to meet you. Sharyl said you'd be stopping by," he said. He was quiet, and I could tell how much of a toll the game had on him— despite being freshly showered, he sported his signature smirk— looking down at me as the cheers and celebrations kept it up behind him.

"Yeah! I just have a few questions to ask, but do you want to follow me out to the media office? It shouldn't take too long, especially since I'm sure you want to go celebrate your win tonight," I told him.

Not really looking for a response, I looked over the boy— he was, admittedly, cute. His eyes were full of life— and he filled out his after-game clothing well. That, and the coupling of beauty marks over his face just enhanced how handsome he was. God, get it together, I told myself. You're on the job!

Finding ourselves in one of the various media offices hosted in the Prudential Center's basement, I sat down across from the rookie, and waited until we were both situated to start the interview.

“So, thank you for sitting down with me! It was a long game out there, but you’re really pushing through,” I laughed, trying to ease the tension I could feel on my end. I really didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of this very cute boy, and even less knowing that he was a professional player in the sport I covered heavily.

“No— no it’s all okay, no worries,” he said, “I’d rather be here than listening to Shmido trying to recap the entirety of the second-half,” he laughed.

“Well, you’re the first to say that,” I smiled back. “So, now that you’re on your second official NHL game, I kind of have to point out— you went from playing for Michigan, and then skating for the league in just a few weeks, and you admittedly have had a huge transformation—” I started.

“Yeah I got faster,” he laughed, his cheeks tinging a shade of pink, and I couldn’t really lie to myself and blame it on his earlier celebrations. “Don’t worry, you can say it— Jacky has.”

“Well, I’ll be honest, it’s really been great to watch. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you the entire game,” I said, and then admittedly felt my own cheeks flush, because truly, what was I thinking? Was I openly flirting with a guy I was supposed to be interviewing? Before I could feel myself blush even further, or even make the situation even more awkward, the silence was broken with Luke’s laugh— a stark and loud chuckle that made me look up automatically. His blush had now traveled from his cheeks to the tip of his hair, peeking out of his wet curls.

He ran his hand through his hair, “Well I mean, that’s definitely great to hear— are you serious?” he said, and for the life of me, I couldn’t tell if he was joking— if he was making fun of my obvious lack of flirting ability, or egging me on.

“Very,” I said. “It was a great game, and the goal you made in OT was just so smooth! Personally, I found it very attractive” I said; I had spent the entirety of the game looking at Luke skating— the smooth and strategic moves he made on the ice, passing the puck back and forth as if he was moving in water. He was beautiful on the ice— weaving between the opposing team’s players quicker and way more efficiently to the point where they couldn’t even keep up with him.

“And I have to point out the pass you made to Jack in the second-half and the assist you sent to Nico! I haven’t seen a lot of puck work that really resembled that in such a while, and—” I cut myself off, trying not to let myself ramble any farther in front of the boy I could feel myself crushing on.

“I mean that’s really a high compliment, thank you,” he said. “I mean, I know this might not be entirely appropriate for the interview, but I’m free after this, if you are two?” he asked. This had to be some kind of cliche, I thought, not really thinking that he had just asked me out.

I did, however, hope he wasn’t egging me on— and, besides, after this profile came out, I wouldn't be covering the NJ Devils until next season, so why not? Why not spend an afternoon with a hot hockey player who I had already called cute? “You know what? I am also free, and I was going to get dinner, if you wanted to join me,” I responded, hoping the youngest Hughes would take me up on the offer too. “I also don’t have class tomorrow, so yes, I am very free after this,” I laughed.

The boy in front of me smiled up, pushing the curls falling in his face back, and saying a quick “Well, then let’s get this thing started.”

#luke hughes #new jersey devils #nj devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagine

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bodyhopper-files · 4 months

Text

Body Hopper Files: Mateo

My stomach churned and my mind spun as I found myself in a new body. Again. It was a familiar feeling, but it never got any less disorienting. I had no control over these spontaneous jumps from one person's life to another's. For the past two months, I had been living as a quiet college professor. But now, who was I? Where was I?

I took in my surroundings with a quick glance: a busy kitchen filled with people moving all around. I felt young, definitely younger than the professor. How young, though? Looking at my hands, I saw light brown skin and some tattoos on my arms. My uniform was black and stained with food, an apron tied around my waist. In my pocket, I found a phone that unlocked with my new face as the ID. I switched quickly to the camera and saw myself for the first time; a cute face with full lips and scruffy facial hair greeted me. Probably around 19 years old. Not bad, not bad at all.

Putting the phone away, my next instinct was to feel myself up through the fabric of my uniform. A nice long and thick surprise awaited me in between my legs - a big new sausage to play with. It was quite the contrast from the professor's more modest middle-aged penis (not that I'm complaining! I've grown to appreciate all types of genitalia during these random body switches).

Suddenly, a stern voice called out behind me - Mateo's boss, probably. "Mateo! Get back to work! And stop taking selfies!"

Shit, I was about to get this kid in trouble if I didn't start pretending to be him real soon.

I quickly straightened up and turned to face my boss, trying to play it cool. "Sorry sir, just checking the time," I said with a sheepish smile. I figured I was young enough I could still play it cute and get away things like that.

He grunted in response and turned his attention back to the food he was preparing. With a developed skilled I’d picked up from so many random body hops, I returned seamlessly to Mateo’s daily work, navigating the busy kitchen with ease, knowing exactly what needed to be done and when. It was clear that he was well-liked by his coworkers, who joked and laughed with him throughout the shift. Despite the long hours and physical demands, Mateo loved his job, and before long I felt the same youthful passion as I helped the line cooks out, bussed tables, and flirted with the waitresses. It was all in a night’s work for Mateo.

Before I knew it, closing time neared and the orders slowed. I untied my apron, wiped sweat from my brow and headed to the break room for a much-needed rest before the restaurant closed. Sinking into a plastic chair, I pulled out Mateo's phone again. There were dozens of notifications - mostly messages from friends and family wondering how he was doing in the big city. But I was more interested in his dating profiles.

As I scrolled through the apps, I couldn't help but chuckle at some of the messages he'd been receiving. There were dirty one-liners, shirtless selfies, and even a few invitations to kinky encounters. Mateo clearly had a way with the guys! I responded to a few messages, using his usual flirty tone, all the while feeling that big new sausage throbbing underneath Mateo’s dirty workwear. It wasn’t likely that I’d be spending the night alone, given how some of the men I’d messaged in Mateo’s apps had responded.

"Good work today, Mateo," the head chef called out as he walked by, giving me a friendly pat on the back. I smiled and nodded, trying my best to act natural and turn attention away from my raging boner.

The restaurant finally closed for the night and everyone began to clock out. I made sure to say goodbye and thank all of Mateo's coworkers, who were all too eager to invite me out for drinks. It was tempting, but I had bigger plans for my first night in this new body.

I made my way to the locker room, quickly changing out of my sweaty work clothes along with all the other restaurant staff and into street clothes for a night out. Mateo's phone buzzed with another notification - it was one of the guys I'd been messaging earlier. He wanted to meet up at a nearby bar.

Feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, I headed out into the city streets and made my way towards the bar. As I walked, I couldn't help but soak in the feeling of being young and carefree again. It had been so long since I had felt this way, as most of my recent host bodies had been older men with their own set ways and responsibilities. But as Mateo, I could be whoever I wanted to be - a young, attractive guy, new to the city with his whole life ahead of him.

I arrived at the bar and spotted my date sitting at a booth in the corner. He looked just as good as in his pictures; an attractive young man about Mateo’s age but with a larger, more dominant physique. He waved me over eagerly as I approached, giving me an appreciative once-over.

"Hey there, Mateo," he said with a grin as we awkwardly hugged hello.

"Hey," I replied with a flirty smile that came naturally in this body.

We settled into our seats and ordered drinks, chatting about our lives and interests as I delved into Mateo’s memories and personaltiy. As we talked, he reached across the table to brush his hand against mine, sending shivers down my spine. His touch was electric against Mateo's skin.

The conversation eventually turned more flirtatious as our drinks continued to flow. My hands trembled slightly as I leaned in closer to his, my heart racing with anticipation.

“Mateo, do you want to come home with me?”

Finally, it was time for me to give into the urges of the body I now possessed. I smiled seductively and said "I'd love to."

We quickly paid our tab and headed out into the night, his arm wrapped firmly around my waist. As we walked, I could feel Mateo's young, toned body tingling with excitement at the prospect of what was to come.

When we arrived at his apartment, he led me straight to the bedroom, kissing me passionately as we tumbled onto the bed. I eagerly returned his kisses, reveling in the feeling of stubble against Mateo's soft skin.

We had a wonderful evening together, fucking again and again with seemingly unlimited stamina, and then laughing and talking late into the night. I felt comfortable and at ease in Mateo's body, like I could truly be myself, even though I knew I was just a pretender. As it got later, we cuddled up close and fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, sunshine streamed in through the window as I slowly awoke. For a moment, I had forgotten I was in Mateo's body. As I looked around the unfamiliar room, the memories of the night before came flooding back. I smiled thinking about the fun we'd had.

I couldn't help but think my time as Mateo was going to be great. As long as was him, I'd have an easy job that he absolutely loves and hook up with hot men every single night! ----- ----- -----

Original story and AI Illustration by @bodyhopper-files

#male transformation #body switch #body swap #possession #body hop #body hopper #male tf #body possession #body theft

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archangeldyke-all · 3 months

Note

No bc I keep thinking of modern Sev trying to get into the dating game because she wants to settle down and she gets on a dating app because Jinx had mentioned in a conversation with Silco and she ends up matching with reader,,, ahh it’s stuck in my brain

i changed this just a bit to make jinx even more of a shithead hehehe i hope u love it

men and minors dni

"aunt sevy." sevika rolls her eyes at the nickname she hates, and looks up from her book at jinx.

the girl's ten years old now, old enough to know just the right buttons to push to annoy sevika. and sevika's stuck on babysitting duty, because she's an idiot and agreed to be the shithead's godmother when jinx was still a harmless, quiet baby.

"what?" she grunts.

"why don't you have a wife?" jinx asks.

sevika groans. "did your dad put you up to this?" she asks. silco's been bothering her about the same thing lately.

"no." she says. "'m jus' wonderin'. when we have birthday parties and stuff, all the adults bring their boyfriends and girlfriends and wives. but you never do. why not?" jinx asks.

sevika tries her best not to kick jinx's shin. she manages, but not without flicking the kid's forehead.

the truth is that sevika's been asking herself the same thing lately. but she's realized that after so many years of emotionless hook-ups, she's got no idea how a relationship would even fucking work, and she's decided it's easier for everyone if she just... doesn't try.

"mind your own buisness." sevika grunts eventually. jinx studies her with those frighteningly inquisitive eyes of hers, before she smirks, turns on her heel, and runs to her room.

sevika's too relieved by jinx's disappearance that she doesn't even consider that the girl could be up to something.

three days later, sevika gets a call from silco at five in the morning.

"do you know what fucking time it is?" she groans into the receiver as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

"i'm sorry."

"what's so fuckin' important that you couldn't wait to tell me at work?" sevika asks.

silco's responding sigh is long enough for sevika's stomach to sink. "you should dress nice today. a suit, maybe, or at least nice slacks and a button up."

"why? do we have a meeting?"

"no." silco says. sevika waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. she huffs.

"silco what the fuck is going on?" she asks.

"you have a date tonight."

it's silent for a few moments. sevika tries to remember if she'd drunkinly given out her number to someone, or if silco asked her to butter up a client. she draws a blank. "...i do?" she asks.

silco sighs again. "jinx got the idea in her head that you need a wife, so she made you a dating profile."

"what?!"

"she's been cat fishing some poor person as you, and she's scheduled a date for the two of you tonight at seven."

"she what!?" sevika screams. her neighbor pounds on the wall that they share. sevika pounds right back. "silco, there is no way in hell i'm going on a date jinx set up for me."

"yes, i figured you'd say that." silco sighs. sevika's phone buzzes. "check your messages."

sevika pulls her phone away from her face and checks the new text sent from silco.

she gulps when your picture pops onto her screen.

you're... everything. if sevika was asked to describe her type, she'd have described you to a tee.

silco starts talking on the other line, and sevika blinks down at your picture one last time before pulling it back up to her face.

"fine." sevika grunts. she can hear silco's smile, and she huffs. "shut the fuck up. which suit should i wear?"

silco cackles on the other line.

sevika almost passes out when she meets you in person. you're stunning, and she's nervous, and she knows absolutely nothing about you even though it seems like jinx has told you everything about her.

it's only when you've ordered your dinner and are chatting over bread that sevika finally confesses.

"i have to tell you something." she mutters.

you pause mid-chew, your lame story about a fat squirrel you'd seen earlier today entirely forgotten at the sight of your gorgeous date's grimace. "don't tell me you're straight." you groan.

sevika cackles, and you relax a bit into your seat, smiling as you watch her catch her breath. "no!" she laughs. "god, no." she wipes her eyes. "i am very gay. and i find you..." she trails off, her eyes darting down to your lips for just a flash, before she blinks and shakes her head. "very attractive." she says.

you gulp, ignoring your sudden arousal. "so... what's the problem?" you ask.

sevika sighs and looks down at her hands. "you've been catfished."

you frown. "uh..." you study the woman in front of you. "you are sevika right? i mean... you look just like your pictures..."

sevika chuckles and shakes her head. "yes, that's me in those pictures. but you haven't been talking to me all week."

"so..." you're beyond confused. "who have i been talking to?" you ask.

sevika cringes. "my fucking shithead niece." she says.

relief floods your body. this isn't a scam or a fucked up prank-- it's a real date with a beautiful woman who's looking at you like she's expecting you to throw your glass of wine in her face.

instead, you burst into laughter. "you sound awfully fond of her."

sevika's stiff posture relaxes, and she huffs her own laugh. "she was cute before she could talk." she says, shrugging. you laugh even harder, reaching across the table to take sevika's hand and squeeze it as you try to compose yourself. "but now she's old enough to ask me why i'm still single and work a smartphone..."

"well, that explains why you had so many typos in your texts."

"oh, god." sevika groans.

"you misspelled 'restaurant' like five times."

"it's a hard word." she chuckles.

you pull the gorgeous woman's hand up to kiss her knuckles, and watch in fascination as all her worry and embarrassment melts away. "so." you say.

"so." sevika repeats.

"if you'd like to leave i understand, i won't be offended. i'm not sure i'd be into the dates my little cousins would pick out for me."

"no!" sevika shouts. she cringes as half the restaurant turns to look at her. you giggle. "no, that's not-- i really want to be here. i just-- i just wanted you to know that you weren't talking to me... you were talking to a ten year old."

it's quiet for a minute as you try to wrap your mind around the situation. so you'll have to re-introduce yourself to the woman in front of you-- that's fine. you're looking forward to getting to know her, and it seems like she wants to get to know you too.

you take a sip of your wine, then giggle when a thought occurs to you. "god, i'm so fucking glad i didn't try sexting with you." you say.

sevika bursts into surprised laughter, and she has to pinch herself to keep from launching over the table and kissing you.

(jinx never lets sevika live down the fact that she married the first person she picked out for her aunt.)

(jinx also officiates your wedding.)

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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shinynewboots · 7 months

Text

Just a Taste (Adam x fem!reader)

AN: Hello friends! I, like many, have fallen victim to Hazbin Hotel and I am so happy to be here. I could not resist writing about Heaven's favorite misogynist! This was written within 30 minutes in a blur and like my second time writing smut so I hope you enjoy! Probably a bit different of an ending than you would expect but I guarantee Adam has his own religious/morality-based trauma he's got to work through.

1.2k words

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, light smut, dubious consent, fingering, porn without plot, Adam being a misogynist, not proofread

Part 2

You were a sinner. A sinner sentenced to Hell for petty crimes, but a sinner nonetheless. Since the days of the latest extermination, Hell had found itself in a somewhat of a peace. The angels had been slain and driven off for a while at least and Adam, the First Man and Leader of the exterminators, had been killed (allegedly, it had been by a one-eyed maid with a proclivity for stabbing).

However, you knew this information was not alleged as you had seen Adam since his death. Not many knew he had reanimated into Hell as a sinner, as he had attempted to keep a low profile. You had not seen him in all high angelic glory, but you had imagined he likely looked similar before his untimely demise.

You had found him hidden out in an abandoned building, a crazed look of disbelief in his eye similar to other sinners who had first descended into Hell. There was a denial many sinners held, yourself included, about how you had ended up in this place. What had been your final sin to tip the scales towards damnation?

You had decided to take pity on the unknown sinner at the time and offered for him to stay at your humble apartment. He made his identity known quite soon after meeting. He wasn't what you expected; he was a dick. He was also very broody. Had he been this broody and dickish as an angel?

You could not deny that he was handsome, even as a sinner. His hair was thick and brown, constantly in a state of effortless shag. His eyes were a piercing gold color that betrayed his heavenly roots. The only thing that seemed to have changed were the black horns that protruded from his head.

"This fucking sucks," He muttered. He seemed to be in one of his moods again.

"What is it this time?" You asked, choosing to humor him in his misery.

"Same old shit, Y/N. I can't believe I got stuck with all these motherfuckers stupid enough to get stuck in hell."

"Motherfuckers, huh?" You deadpanned, joining him as he sat on the couch. Adam looked you over and shook his head.

"Except you, you're kind of okay I guess."

"Kind of okay, asshole?"

Adam shrugged.

"You know you don't have to stay here," You offered, anger rising in your throat.

"And go where, Y/N? I stick out like a sore thumb and most overlords are just salivating at the chance to kill me again."

"The Hotel the Princess has, the one that rehabilitates Sinners?"

Adam rolled his eyes. "No fucking way, those bitches are the reason I'm even stuck here in the first place."

You shrugged back at him. "Then it sounds like you better stop complaining."

He narrowed his golden eyes and turned to face you head-on on the couch. "Or what?"

You rolled your eyes and moved to leave the couch. You were stopped by a clawed hand grabbing onto your wrist, pulling you back down into Adam's lap.

"What the fuck," You growled, trying to free yourself from his grip. His hand grew tighter around your wrist while the other grabbed your chin and pulled you closer to him.

He stared at you, his golden eyes aflame with something you could not recognize.

"Might as well get a taste if I'm already in hell," He whispered, covering his mouth with yours. Your eyes widened, the situation taking an unexpected turn. His kiss was soft, softer than you had expected him capable of. It was almost hesitant. As if your lips were a new terrain that he must scout, lest there be dangers in his path. His hand that had held your wrist now found itself tangled in your hair.

You wondered how long it had been since he had kissed someone.

Adam grew confident in the kiss and thus grew more hungry. His eager lips consumed yours and you felt his tongue force its way into her mouth, exploring most tantalizingly. His free hand found its way around your waist, pulling your body close to his. A fire burned in your belly as you felt a soft moan escape your lips.

Your confidence grew as you snaked an arm around his neck and pulled him closer. He almost grinned into your mouth, his deep breathing utterly intoxicating.

"Fuck," He groaned, biting at your lip with his sharpened canines. You felt blood hit your mouth, which was quickly licked away by Adam, who looked at you as though he were sampling the finest heavenly wines. You could feel wetness seeping from your cunt, thoroughly turned on by the twist in tonight's events.

Adam grabbed your body and pulled him on top of you so that you now straddled him. You could feel his erection through his robes, which seemed to twitch with every movement.

"Nothing to say ,Y/N?" He asked as he licked up the bone of jaw until he managed to reach your ear. He licked at the lobe for a few seconds before deciding to take a bite.

"Fuck," You hissed, the sting of the bite shocking you. He chuckled, the sound deep in your ears. What was happening? How did this even happen? First, he had been his usual asshole self and now this?

You felt yourself involuntarily buck your hips against his straining member, the sensation deliciously hitting you. Adam groaned and moved a hand so that it now rested over the heat of your core. His thumb found your clit through your pants and rubbed teasing circles over the area. You could feel the warm wetness of arousal soaking your pants.

"Adam," You exhaled, your control of the situation non-existent. He froze, pulling back his hands from your body as though he had been burned by fire. He stared at you with wide eyes.

"What in the fuck, bitch?"

"Adam?" You questioned, too stunned to acknowledge the slur. You still straddled him and could feel his cock pulsate against your core. His eyes were alight with rage. Unsure, you quickly jumped off from him.

His face had a mixed emotion of rage and... fear? A sheen of sweat had made its way onto his brow and he looked a bit like a child whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar.

"You tempted me," He let out, his breath quickening. You tilted your head in confusion.

"What? You kissed me," You bit out. The fucking audacity. He seemed to not hear you as he shook his head.

"Every day I stay here, the harder it is to stay on the path," He muttered, rising from the couch in a panic. His wings furled around him like a security blanket.

"Adam what are you talking about?" You asked, louder this time. He seemed to look right through you as he ran his hands through his hair. Hesitantly, you reached out and placed your hand on his wing. He froze, golden eyes looking at your hand.

"Don't fucking touch me." He exclaimed, pulling away from you. He left the room in a panic, his wings wrapping around him tighter as he left. You were soon left alone in your apartment hot, bothered, and wondering what in actual heaven was wrong with Heaven's golden boy.

Worst of all, in spite of all the slurs and rude names, you could not help but pity the fallen angel. However skewed his moral code might have been, he still seemed to have one. Maybe you were just one more thing in a long line of sins that he had committed.

What in the fuck was wrong with you?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #fanfiction #fanfic #hazbin adam #adam #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel reader #hazbin adam x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam has religious trauma

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f4nd0m-fun · 5 months

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DPxDC - Mafia Ties

Good parents Fenton and redeemed Vlad escaping to another universe with Danny, Jordan, Ellie, Jazz, Tucker, and Sam because of GIW chaos getting so bad they literally need to go to another world to get help, only for the portal to close, and they can't open it from this side. Jordan is Jazz's age maybe a year older and Ellie accidentally got deaged to her actual age give or take which is probably about a year and a half old. Yes it's the Family Breakfast ship.

@hallowsden

Cue Vlad doing his whole possession stuff to not only get them new identities but carefully accumulate a small amount of wealth, not enough to be suspicious in his opinion but still.

The Fenton parents start looking to see if/where this world has ectoplasm because the kids, and maybe Vlad, need it. Hel, maybe the parents accidentally need it too after all those years of exposure.

I know everyone chooses Gotham for this stuff, but also that's about the most I know about DC and it has a Lazarus pit underground so we're using it.

Vlad doesn't get back into the proper businessman profile, too many eyes for him to feel safe after the GIW disaster, but he does end up a Mafia boss, or at least tries. Also, Hood becomes a new 'son' obsession for him, yeah he has Danny and Jordan and Ellie but this kid is also ghosty and probably hungry or something, right?

Hood doesn't get what's up with this weird older man who always has a baby with him, let alone why he'd even bring a baby along to mafia stuff.

Vlad thinks it's safer to have Ellie in mafia meetings than be left with the Fentons during their research obsession periods because they will literally not pay attention to anything else unless it's an emergency, it's not their fault, they're learning to manage it though.

Speaking of Fentons, they work on clean energy manufacturing topside, but underground they deal with weapons. Mostly they supply them to Vlad's crew, since that's basically their testing grounds, but they also don't make anything that's actually lethal. Vlad isn't a fan of guns though but he isn't about to bring out his plasma blasts if there isn't a good reason. (He pretends anyone who sees him cackling like a maniac hit their head, he did say he hates using guns after all).

Jordan and Jazz are probably about 17/18 now. Jazz is going to college, while Jordan slips his way into the kid's mafia (yes he knows he's a kid now too, shut up, he used to be 24). This is half to annoy Vlad and half because he's curious. Jazz, of course, with a little help from both Vlad and Tucker in getting her grades moved between universes, is in college soon, and manages a full scholarship (not that Vlad wouldn't have paid if he still had his old money, in fact he might even be a little jealous that he wasn't the one to pay for her schooling).

Jordan looks a little more like Vlad than he does Jack, due to the way the ghost half fusion effects everything, but he also looks more like Jack than Maddie because Jack is what Danny would have grown into anyway.

Ellie of course just looks like a nearly carbon copy of Danny of course, just baby and female.

Danny, Sam, and Tucker are all going to Gotham Prep, if Vlad can't pay for Jazz's schooling then he's paying at just some for theirs (they might have partial scholarships but not full ride). Danny still sneaks out at night because he can't stand sitting still after a long time of being a vigilante and ends up running into the Bat. He promptly apologizes for invading his haunt and flees.

If any ships, I'm thinking Jazz/Jason and Jordan/Dick, but I'm a sucker for everlasting Trio and Tim also has a trio of his own.

Back to Ellie and Vlad. He of course is trying to keep any 'Meta' rumors on the downlow, but she's just a baby. The harness she's in is ghost proof mostly so she can't just phase out of it, but you try changing a baby's diaper and they just turn intangible, or put then down to nap when they start floating. Hel, imagine setting her down for two seconds, she accidentally makes a shield, and now she's crying because she wants to be held. Sure, Vlad and Danny both, Jordan and Ellie too, can go through shields in human form, but that doesn't mean it doesn't sting or something. Eventually it gets figured out though.

I wonder how long it takes Jason to figure out that this Jordan fellow is related to Vlad. 😂

I also wonder what it would take for Vlad to actually use his ghost form outright, what kind of threat he'd expose himself to for the sake of his family. Just, shoving the kids at Jack - "Darling your aim is iced tea, let Maddie and myself handle this" - and doing what he has to.

And, yes, even as a Mafia boss he refuses to actually swear. Also, he probably still goes by Plasmius, the way his other form looks does NOT help the vampire rumors. Let alone the- well, I read a post on here a while ago where Ellie Danny and Jordan were deaged and needed his ectoplasm to survive. Imagine being a Plasmius goon in a meeting while he's trying to rock his baby to sleep and she's just sucking on his hand. You don't think much of it until you see he's bleeding and, even though it's technically red, your pretty sure it's glowing green and you're not sure if you want to ask (you won't but still). Plus, he's not even reacting to what must be a fair bit of pain, right?

Honestly, there's probably a betting pool about the whole weird family.

And of course I'm bringing in my Alfred Clockwork storyline. Flashpoint Thomas is Frighty, dead Thomas is Pariah, and Gotham is Martha. The moment Vlad finds out that Jason's grandparents are some of the most powerful ghosts in the realms (or at least this side of them in Gotham's case) he's like "okay I won't interfere, but maybe he'd like a friend? He doesn't seem to know a lot of ghosts.' (he tries to figure out which kid would be a better fit and that's when he finds out Jordan's been working for Hood this whole time. "You didn't tell me?" "You didn't know?!") 😂

Basically, give me a Mafia family who's major story plot isn't even the bats outright, it's just trying to survive after fleeing a world that may as well be destroyed at this point. Sure, they interact with the bats, cross paths, maybe even a couple relationships, but, overall, the Fenton-Masters are just outsiders in Gotham, learning to adjust to this new life.

#Fenton-Masters Mafia Crossover #Fenton-Masters Mafia AU #Fenton-Masters Mafia Family #dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc au #dimensional travel #new life

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shadow0214 · 1 month

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I watched Deadpool and Wolverine yesterday. What a movie, I loved it so much!! And, of course, my mind came up with a little scenario hehe.

Wolverine x reader

"What do you think (Name)?" Elektra asked without taking her eyes from the two men.

You had been hiding in the shadows since Wade and the new Logan had arrived to your home, listening to them speak with the rest of the group.

You walked out of the shadow and stood beside Laura, she smiled when you appeared.

"I have not a say in this really, I think is great if you guys take Cassandra out, but I'll be watching from afar." You answered.

"And who might you be?" Wade asked, you had a Deadpool in your universe too, he was way less talkative than this one.

"Logan can tell you that" You chuckled.

"I have no fucking idea who you are" He said with a confused look in his face.

"Maybe you didn't know me in your universe because I came after what happened when the humans attacked" You replied with a sad smile. When you had arrived at the TVA, they had shown you all other possible timelines and all your other variants, you were the only one that lost control completely and killed most mutants at the academy. You were absolutely horrified by that so you stopped using the full extent of your powers when you got to The Void, you only used them to get away from that maniac Cassandra, but once you arrived to that place you mostly kept a low profile.

"How the fuck did you know about that?" Logan growled.

"TVA showed me, and most of us know you are the 'worst' wolverine" you said using airquotes.

He just growled again. It was weirdly fun listening to him do that, you remembered when your Logan would do that when he didn't agree with you.

After that, you just sat down and kept listening to them argue about if they were going or not, eventually they agreed, but Logan went out without saying a word.

The first one to follow him out was Laura, they all knew they had a better chance of pulling this off with him, but he wasn't really going to help.

You followed Laura but kept your distance while she spoke with Logan trying to convince him to help them kill Cassandra. After a few minutes she left him again and came back to the house.

"I did my part, maybe you can help us out a little" She said begging you with her eyes while you were leaning on the front of the house.

You sighed at her request but got up and walked to where he was.

You got to the bonfire and sat near him about an arm’s length from him.

"What do you want?" He said taking a sip of the bottle of liquor he had with him.

"You know? I killed my wolverine" You said looking at your feet with regret. He looked at you, you had peaked his interest.

"I lost control of my powers and ended up killing you. You and I were a couple in my universe." You said with a sad smile.

"So...I was good in your universe?" Logan asked.

"Well...You were you." You smiled at him. " Same old Logan, with your short temper and your sarcastic remarks".

"You remind me of him."

"Well, I'm not him" He said a little disappointed.

You just chuckled sadly and stood up. He mimicked you, and you ended up face to face. He actually found you quite beautiful even though it was his first time meeting you.

"Life has been cruel to you, hasn't it?" You said touching his face barely with your fingers. You noticed him relaxing a little and pushed for more skin contact. Now your whole hand was holding his face, he didn't move, he just stared at you.

"They really need your help" You continued, gently caressing his cheek.

"How about you? They asked for your opinion on the matter" Logan asked getting closer to you.

"I would be a hindrance, if a lose control again you'd be fighting two annoyingly strong mutants" You hummed.

"Maybe I could take you down this time" Logan said, holding your waist with both his hands. You missed the feeling of him holding you like this, you missed his touch, his presence, everything about him.

"You know why you didn't survive my attack? I control darkness in every form, I left some in your body and you couldn't regenerate, your body tried but it was impossible with that inside it" You said getting closer to his lips.

He chuckled and held you harder.

"Now you are at my mercy though, I could kill you with one move if I wanted to" He whispered.

"I get my energy through darkness, even if you hurt me, I would be able to heal myself, don't forget it's nighttime. I'm stronger at night" You replied gently touching your lips with his.

You let out a breath that was caught in your chest and pulled away. Logan looked at you with a frown.

"I'll wait for you here, I know you will be able to end her, no problem" You said patting his chest with your hand. "Just be careful, ok?" and with that you gave him a kiss on the corner of his lips and disappeared in the shadows.

You knew they were going to be fine; He was going to be fine.

#wolverine x reader #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett x reader #mutant reader

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groovyfrog420 · 6 months

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SV Redeemed AU

INTRODUCTION / DISCLAIMER

First things first, these designs for Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla are FAR into the future. Quite literally end game phase of the story, the “they grow old together and live happily ever after”. There's a long way to get there, and while I will write some of my thoughts about their journey, I'm a shitty writer. There's no single thought-out plot, it's just bits and pieces of my thoughts in one place.

I don't think I'd be making a tag or naming this AU anything specific. I'm still calling it an AU because there is a bit of canon divergence, but I don’t have a start-to-finish story. (EDIT: wellp that lasted long. new name is #False-Truth AU because I like the oxymoron. I still don't think I'll do much - maybe a few short comics, which you'll be able to find under that tag on my profile)

Keep in mind that these are just my own interpretations, if you imagine these cookies acting differently, that's ok! This is just my own made-up alternate version

LONG POST UNDER THE CUT - don't say I didn't warn ya

I’ve tried to divide it into sections, so if you are looking for just smth specific / only care about one of the characters, you can skip right to it!

Prepare for the ramblings.

PURE VANILLA'S DESIGN

more relaxed now - doesn’t need to keep up perfect appearances and the image of a hero, so he can lay back a bit more. (messier, less perfectly styled hair - more like his younger years. comfier clothes.)

focusing on herbology - with less power now (why explained below) and trying to not overwork himself, he’s taken to different healing methods, as well as taking on gardening as a hobby

slightly more open eyes - (heavily elaborated on bellow)

different staff - due to being able to use his own eyes more now, as well as staying more on the low, he’d decided to retire the famous staff. Since it’s a flower, it was planted somewhere and allowed to blossom and grow freely - fitting symbolism for a new beginning, I think. The lantern light glowing blue makes it easier on his eyes.

PV STORY BITS

In this AU Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla retire together. I think PV would still like to teach, but would focus more on the medical and practical side of things, like herbs and healing practices. (He’ll leave telling tales about the past to Shadow Milk, though he might throw in his own comments from time to time…) He mostly offers advice and shares every-day methods for protection of different kinds with those who ask, but may take on an apprentice or few to fully pass down his healing knowledge to. He uses magic sparingly now.

This way with not focusing on a variety of subjects and many, many students, he’s able to rest more and doesn’t have to split himself between multiple worries. He can focus properly and give his students more individual attention, to make sure his knowledge will be retained for the future.

Eyes

(don't jump me pls read the footnote)

I've decided to take the closed/covered eyes motif PV has in a bit more symbolic way *. I want to interpret it as PV being blind (=ignorant) to the world around him, choosing to see the world and his own actions in an idealized light, and to look away from anything that doesn't fit that idea. Light sensitivity would be very ironic yet fitting - since his own powers are very light-based, by using them to help others he’d be blindinding/hurting himself in the process...

Over time, he realizes how futile it is. Even if he turns his eyes away from the wrongdoing in the world, from his own mistakes and imperfections, they will still continue to happen. He begins to understand that he has to accept that neither he nor the world is perfect, to stop wallowing over the past and start fixing the present. To keep moving forward and keep working on himself, not hide his imperfections under literal and figurative wraps.

With the help of Shadow Milk, he begins to open his eyes more and more and accept the real truth, no matter how imperfect it is.

*I’m not sure how confirmed it was in canon that he’s blind (from what I’ve seen it was mostly implied, but still). I'm not erasing that - for the sake of this AU, I'd like to say that he has partial issues with sight (including the mentioned light sensitivity), but now he learns to accommodate them rather than ignore them and hurt himself more for the sake of others. No, he doesn't magically gain full sight now, but he's more comfortable, healthier, and more honest about the world around him with all of its imperfections.

Burnout

I believe SM and PV complete each other so perfectly because they can help each other grow in areas where the other is lacking/struggling. With PV, I’d like to focus on burnout, false ideas, and how the pressure he’s constantly under has affected him. He was very much just a normal guy before receiving his Soul Jam. Years beyond a normal cookie’s lifespan of hard work and trying to be the perfect leader, to always ensure the happiness of all his people (whether that be as king or otherwise) are bound to take a toll on anyone. Obviously he'd never admit that, always putting everyone else before his own needs, and he’d likely run himself into the grave. That's where I think Shadow Milk would be helpful - he’d make him realize how unsustainable what he’s doing really is. He wasn’t built for handling immense power for all of eternity, he’s just a single cookie and whether he likes it or not, he can’t save everyone or make every single one of his people happy... Being selfish isn’t entirely wrong, sometimes might even be necessary.

Onto the idea of false truth - Pure Vanilla has a very idealized view of a lot of things and people. He’s trying to see everyone in the best light, but he also holds a high standard for himself - that he must be the ideal, shining and caring hero and a beacon of perfection . Shadow Milk is likely to pick that image apart - probably not in the kindest way, saying that in trying to be perfectly selfless, PV is putting himself on the pedestal above everyone else while still being just a single cookie with limited capabilities. He’d likely call this image egoistical, and while PV would argue that he’s doing it for the good of others (he is helping after all, right?), Shadow Milk wouldn’t be entirely wrong - this way of thinking, that he’s the one who must take care of everyone else, is harmful for both him and the ones he’s trying to protect.

Shadow Milk would show him that truth is relative, that “pure truth” doesn’t exist, for anyone could interpret it differently. That PV isn’t (and doesn't have to be) the perfect blameless hero. That his people aren’t as good or pure as he’d like to give them credit for, but neither are they helpless.

Shadow Milk metaphorically and literally helps him open his eyes - he slowly learns to lay back, to accept the reality and “truth”, whatever it may be, and is no longer blinding and burning himself out by trying to help everyone at once. With a new mindset and outlook of the world, he can allow himself to retire, and leave a calmer, out-of-the-spotlight life.

Retirement

Ok, controversial idea, but I think the ancients will have to one day retire and pass down their SoulJams. Yes, I played Cookie Odyssey, I know how important it is to them, but hear me out. As I said above (which is shown in the game btw, but correct me if I'm wrong), they were just normal cookies before taking on the roles of the Ancient Heros. Cookies with high achievements, yes, but still. They aren’t The Beasts, baked specifically for the purpose of handling the Soul Jams, and even then, The Beasts weren’t perfect. I’m not saying they’re bound to get corrupted like their predecessors did, but I am saying that this role is bound to take a toll on them. Not even just from the perspective of power, even just handling so many responsibilities with running their kingdoms is going to be extremely draining mentally. (Physically likely too, even if they’re said to stay “always young” thanks to the Soul Jams - many stories teach that you can’t mess with nature and that nothing lasts forever...)

I don’t know who they’d pass the Soul Jams along too - whether that’d be Gingerbrave and his friends, or a new batch of heroes, that is to be decided. The point is, they have served their purpose, they have (from the perspective of this AU) defeated Dark Enchantress, and deserve to now leave the rest of their lives in peace.

SHADOW MILK'S DESIGN

“mellowed out” a bit - continues to be eccentric and dramatic, but less manic

still unsettling - most level-headed cookies upon meeting him immediately get a feeling that there's something.. off about him, even if they can't put their finger on it. (I purposefully left some of his corrupted design elements or callbacks to them, like the marking over his eye, for that reason)

vibrant, colorful, very extra in both behavior and looks, everything he does he does with drama and flourish

quiets down when out of the eyes of the public, or alone with Pure Vanilla

peacock elements - fitting for someone with such a vibrant personality. also the eye connection is perfect - if you look closely at the feather he's wearing, you might even notice a familiar symbol in its “eye”

a playful bard - (elaborated heavily bellow) - an identity allows him to enjoy his favorite activities, while also being a slight callback to his academic past

SM STORY BITS

The bard

While spending more time with Pure Vanilla, PV encouraged him to pursue his creative interests. Partly to have smth to get SM’s mind off of causing chaos, and partly because they let him indulge and express himself without causing any serious damage. Now he’s joined PV in retirement, though still not fully stepping down from the stage.

Being a bard allows Shadow Milk to indulge in everything he likes most: being the center of attention, dramatics, theatrics, mischief, a tasteful dose of lies and half-truths, but also, in a way, calling back to his past self: for while a lot of his stories are made-up tales, he can also share the history of Earthbread that he’s witnessed. Yes, he may do so through over-dramatic performances or behind caricatural characters, but every tale holds a grain of truth, does it not? Whether his audience chooses to believe him or not is their choice to make.

Referencing the fact that a big part of human history survived through word of mouth, and how storytellers play an important role in preserving it, I think it’s only fitting to make him a bard.

About visual choices

I made his redeemed design less chaotic and asymmetrical, but still vibrant and based mostly on his current color palette, rather than the one from Blueberry Academy. That's because while he may be rediscovering his interests from the past, he’s not the person he was before corruption and never will be again. Instead, he too is learning to rediscover the world in a new light, with a new identity.

Visually I’ve tried to keep some elements from his current design, if slightly toned down: a wide collar, puffy sleeves, a flowy cape. Elements of his corruption are also still there: different colored sclera (= his one eye being black), the sharp teeth. He may have settled down and calmed down slightly, but he remains as playful as ever :))

He still causes local chaos once in a while or resorts to pranking unsuspecting cookies nearby (the slight charring at the bottom of PV’s robe is a result of one of such pranks getting out of hand), and PV has accepted that he'll never be a calm, put-together cookie he once might have been. However, SM's learned to not be a danger to others for the sake of the one he cares about the most, and that's enough for the both of them.

And that's all for now! If you've managed to get this far, thank you SO much for your patience, I hope you've enjoyed my thoughts and brainworms <3

#funny how this turned into an essay on accident #shadowvanilla #pureshadow #vanilla milkshake #shadow milk #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie run kingdom #shadow milk crk #pure vanilla #pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla crk #shadow milk au #cookie run au #blorbo-time #False-Truth AU

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spencersssockss · 8 months

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Library

Summary: You meet Spencer at the library when going to check out The Fisher King…

Warnings: none!!!

Word count: 700

Ally: This is based loosely off the fisher king episode kinda but not really, sorry about the length!! I plan on having a second part to this one soon!!! Enjoy lovelies!

You loved reading, any free time you had was spent reading, and it served as a distraction.

Your friend had been telling you about a book she had recently heard of, it was called The Fisher King, you did a tremendous amount of research on it only to find out the only possible way to read it would be to get it from your local library as it was no longer being sold due to its old age and rarity.

You decided to visit the library after work to pick it up, luckily someone had just returned it, and just as you were checking out a nerdy, tall, and lanky man walked towards the front desk next to you.

“Do you mind if I read that book in your hand before you leave?” It’ll only take like ten minutes,” he quickly said eyes bright as he bounced his foot nervously.

“Ten minutes?” you questioned cocking an eyebrow.

Spencer bit his cheek for a second before replying, “I have an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute, I know it sounds crazy but just trust me, it's really important,” he mumbled quickly.

“I-uh okay,” you stuttered handing him the book.

Taking the book in his hands, Spencer carefully flipped through it, fingers running over every page as he read, his eyes glancing over the words quickly, taking in every detail. After what seemed like only a few seconds, he closed the book and handed it back to you with a small smile.

“There's no way you read that all,” you blurted eyes widening.

“I promise, I did. My name's Spencer Reid by the way,” he said extending his hand for you to shake.

you shook it hesitantly still in disbelief.

With a smile, Spencer continued, “I'm a psychologist and criminal profiler for the FBI, always on the lookout for new books to read, this time it was actually for a case.”

You gasped in realization, you remembered before you graduated he had done a lecture at your college. “I've seen you before, you do lectures right?” you asked.

Spencer's cheeks reddened slightly, and he nodded. "Yeah, I've given several lectures on various topics, mostly about the human mind and behavior."

“You're one of the reasons I became a counselor,” you smiled.

Spencer smiled warmly, "That's amazing. I'm glad to have played a small part in your journey." He glanced around the library, trying to think of something else to say. "Would you like to get coffee or something sometime?”

“Absolutely, do you want my number?” you asked breaking into a smile.

"I'd love your number," Spencer replied, pulling out his phone. He tapped on the screen a few times before handing it over to you. "Here, add your number, sorry for not asking your name earlier, if you don't mind me asking now what is it?” he blushed slightly.

“it's y/n,” you smiled putting in your number and handing his phone back to him.

"Thank you, Y/N," Spencer said, pocketing his phone. He couldn't help but feel a bit flustered at the interaction. It was rare for him to meet someone who understood and appreciated his work so deeply. "Well, I should probably get back to my research now.”

“Yeah, sorry for keeping you so long,” you blushed holding the book against your chest.

"It's quite alright," Spencer reassured you with a gentle smile. "I hope we can catch up again soon, maybe over that coffee or even another book." He waved goodbye before disappearing into the stacks of the library.

You stood there for a moment still in disbelief at what had just happened, the librarian laughed before saying, “he's a cutie isn't he?”

You blushed deeply turning to face her to answer, “Just a little,” you mumbled making her laugh again.

“He works for the FBI actually,” she added laughing again as your eyes widened.

“Good to know,” you smiled waving at her as you left the library and headed home to read the book. Which would probably take YOU a lot longer than ten minutes.

#criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencerreidssockss #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine

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unreliablesnake · 10 months

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Reunion (Simon Riley x reader)

Simon wasn’t a huge fan of the school reunions that some of his old friends organized every few years. Usually he wasn’t even around to attend them. But he kept track of some people on social media, although this was something he would have denied without hesitation.

His main target was you. He knew about everything you shared, he saw the photos, he saw the cheesy posts about your life. About your perfect husband.

Because that guy was perfect based on the photos, your posts, the comments from friends and family, and his own profile. Tall, handsome, successful, popular, coming from a good family, and apparently he was so madly in love with you that Simon felt like throwing up every time he saw one of his declarations of love.

Back in the day, during those terrible teenage years, he had wanted to ask you out on a date. But with his background, he always felt like he wasn’t enough for you. You talked to him, yes, but it usually felt like an empty, polite chat instead of a deep conversation.

So when he went grocery shopping one day, he was surprised to meet you in the parking lot. His first reaction was to look away and act like he didn’t recognize you. You wouldn’t remember him anyway, and since you were still a beautiful woman, men looking at you should be nothing new for you.

But his whole body froze when he heard you call after him. “Simon? Simon Riley? Is that you?” He slowly turned around and watched you without a word. Sure, he nodded, even smiled a little, but he didn’t want to look desperate to talk to you. “Oh my god, it’s been so long!”

Before he knew it, you were wrapping your arms around him in a warm hug. He didn’t even know what to do. You were a married woman in the middle of a crowded parking lot, anyone could see you hugging a man who wasn’t your husband.

“You never come to the reunions, you’re inactive on social media… I know nothing about what you do these days,” you said with a pout after you playfully punched his chest. “The last thing I heard is that you joined the SAS. Are you still there?”

Who the hell had told you that? Whoever it was, they deserved a punch in the face. But it was water under the bridge, you already knew the truth. “Yeah, that's my life now,” he replied with a nod. “And what about you? What do you do these days?”

He listened to you giving him the answer with wide, happy gestures, and he couldn't hold back the smile that crept on his lips. You were so nice, so alive, so different from the people he was surrounded by. Maybe it was nostalgia making him see you in such a way, but he didn't really care about the why.

Having you in his life again, even if for just a few minutes, made him happy, made him wish you would stick around. He wanted to spend more time with you, although he knew you weren't available. But you could be friends, right? There were no rules stating a man and a woman couldn't be friends.

You suddenly looked down at your phone and cursed under your breath. “I'm late. It was so nice to see you again, Simon,” you said with a wide smile as you unlocked the phone and gave it to him. “Can I get your number? I might check in every now and then. You know, just to know you're okay, even if you don't attend the reunions.”

Oh, he was more than happy to give you his number. Once he gave back the device, you quickly called him so he would have your number as well. “Don't get lost,” he told you with a smirk.

“I won't,” you promised.

Yet you disappeared. He expected you to call him, to send a text, but there was nothing in the following months.

Being deployed and being focused on the mission he was on made things a little easier. He didn't spend every moment of the day thinking about you, thinking about whether or not it was him who did something stupid that made you change your mind. Price noticed that something was wrong with him, but when Simon refused to explain, he gave up trying.

And then, just one week before he was supposed to go home, your name showed up on the screen. At first he thought it was a mistake and you would end the call right away. But it kept ringing, so he took a deep breath and picked up.

“Hey, Simon. You got a minute?” you asked cheerfully.

------

Note: Thanks for reading. I don't have a taglist. If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

#do you wanna reader more?#simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #modern warfare #call of duty #mw2 #mw3 #the last question is from itsv #i needed that ending

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nekrosdolly · 9 months

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father's friend (18+)

you are just what he doesn't need.

cw; afab reader, reader in a skirt, dad's friend wesker, major age gap (14-17 years), fingering, degradation, implied multiple orgasms, reader is a little naive and wesker eats that up, predatory almost???, inappropriate use of mirrors, daddy kink if you squint (get a microscope)

terms of endearment; dear (reader receives)

a/n; i don't know how this became what it did bc this was supposed to be fluff. if you'd like the fluff version, i'm more than happy to provide that, just let me know!

when albert wesker pictured his life, he saw greatness. he'd dreamt of sanitizing the world with uroboros, his pet project of years would finally come to fruition. the world would be the perfect place, full of the superior and cleansed of the lesser. his dreams realized.

what he didn't anticipate, however, was you.

you, who came into his life when he was 38 years old, fresh off the high of the mansion incident. mostly human, partially not. he'd changed his clothes- only black attire from that point forward- and kept a low profile because he should be dead, but he's not. with no body to find, they gave up on the search only months later. he'd slid under the radar with a new identity and relocated across the country to some small town on the east coast.

at the time, you were in your early twenties. maybe 24, 21 at the youngest. you were youthful and so sweet, painfully naive and lacking experience of life's true cruelties. without scars that held stories to be told, or nightmares that took hold of you in the night.

unmarked. untainted. flawless. you.

and you hadn't meant to draw his attention. you, the child of his best friend. oh, you were tempting. how whenever he was over, you'd greet him with a little "hi mr. wesker" despite him telling you over and over to call him albert.

he hung around your father because he was an operative of umbrella as well, and albert needed connections. you were quick to teach about certain things, your doe eyes drawn to him whenever he merely breathed. like you were waiting for something.

naturally, you'd maintained a healthy distance for a long time. the routine you two had whenever he'd stop by- almost daily- the greeting, the glances, the lingering, subtle touches on each other's arms, shoulders, backs, wherever you had access to that wouldn't draw immediate attention.

your father never noticed. not as he fell asleep on the couch one night. not when albert ensured the roofie he'd given your father had settled, then snuck up into your room after.

not now, as he has you on his lap, your legs spread wide, your skirt lifted up so he can rub your clit. he forces you to watch in the mirror, your back pressed against his chest, as he pushes your panties aside and sinks two long fingers inside of you. forces you to watch, his other hand gripping your jaw to keep your head still.

"you're a whore," he murmurs in your ear, "such a filthy fucking whore. you think you can tease me and get away with it, hm?"

"n-no, i'm sorry." you whimper, his fingers curling inside your weeping entrance. you're making a mess of yourself and his hand.

"mm, i don't think you are, dear. you're so wet, i bet you've been thinking about this for a while now, right? imagining daddy's friend splitting you open, ruining your perfect cunt." you should be embarrassed that he's got you down to a science, but his words make you squeeze around his fingers. you nod, much to his satisfaction, and he chuckles quietly. it reverberates in his chest and you relish the way it feels, wondering if you'll ever get to be more than just his secret.

"you're never going to get this from anyone else, you know that, don't you? nobody else will ever make you feel the way i feel." you're dumb from just his fingers, but you can't help that they're just what you wanted. the pads of his index and middle finger brush the spongy spot on your walls, making you cry out and writhe in his arms. your thighs try to squeeze shut but he lets go of your face to force them back open.

"t-too much-"

"shut up and take it. this is what you wanted, so why the hell are you complaining you ungrateful brat?" he hisses, focusing on that spot. with the way the heel of his hand is palming your clit, his fingers buried so deep inside you, you're cumming within moments. you're loud even if you don't mean to be, especially as he continues finger-fucking you after your orgasm.

"please- no more, i-i can't-" you whine, trying your hardest to move away from him, but he's got you tight in his grasp.

"you can, and you will. you don't have a choice. you'll cum as much as i want you to." he kisses your temple, the first sign of mercy he's shown you all night, and then slips a third finger in. you're weak to him, the same way he's weak to you.

#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡#bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#resident evil #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #writing #albert wesker i love youuuu #albert wesker smut #albert wesker fanfic #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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roosterforme · 1 year

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Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 8 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You fulfill your promise to visit both schools. You can't deny that Miami is beautiful and offers a lot of things you want. But San Diego has Bradley, and it's time for you to figure out where your priorities lie. During your trip to California, you reach out to a new friend to discuss your decision.

Warnings: Fluff, swears, and angst

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

Your flight touched down in Miami on a Monday morning in late July, and you couldn't get over how disgusting the weather was. Once you had your luggage, you made your way outside to get in line for a taxi, and you thought you were going to melt. Your lungs felt uncomfortable from the humidity, and it was blazing hot for so early in the day.

You were completely stuck to the seat, and your taxi driver was weaving in and out of traffic. "How much further?" you asked him cautiously, but he was already making a turn toward an absolutely beautiful campus. You peeled yourself off of the seat and braced yourself as you opened the door to the wall of humidity once again.

When you made your way to meet the dean of students with your suitcase and sweaty clothing, you wished you had decided to visit during the winter. And now you had to sit through several meetings thinking about the fact that you hated this weather, perhaps even more than the Chicago winters.

If you were too cold, you could always snuggle up to Bradley.

And then there he was. Again. Right at the front of your mind. You promised him you'd take him out of the equation of which job was the right one for you, but you just didn't know if you could do it.

"Is that correct?" The dean of students was talking to you, and you had no idea what she was saying. She would literally be your supervisor's boss if you took the job here, and you were busy daydreaming about Bradley.

You pushed some of your sweaty hair out of your face. "Uh, could you repeat that, please?"

When you finally got the conversation back on track, you left with a schedule for the next three days. You'd be meeting dozens of people, sitting in on a calculus lecture, looking at curriculum, and taking tours.

You learned pretty quickly that the best time to go out was late at night. You also learned that the Cuban food trucks made some of the most delicious things you had ever tasted. You went out to dinner with some of the deans, and you toured what could become your future office.

It was all very nice, and luckily heavily air conditioned. There was nothing wrong with any of it. But you weren't convinced it was actually right. Until you took yourself on a tour of the library and found the study rooms. They were sterile, with harsh fluorescent lighting. And the doors had windows and didn't lock. You laughed and took a few pictures, including a selfie of you frowning. You'd send them to Bradley when he got back.

On your last day in Miami, you stopped at a coffee shop before doing some sightseeing. You opted for an iced coffee to try to fight away some of the heat, but even in a sundress, it felt horrible outside. You were just pulling the fabric away from your tattoos when you bumped into the person behind you.

"I'm so sorry," you told him, holding your hands up in surrender. "I'm not used to the heat."

He smiled at you. "You're not from Miami."

You shook your head. "No. And I actually think my blood got too thick after living in Chicago? Is that a thing? Are you from Miami?" You eyed him up and down. He was handsome, and his clothes looked pristine, like he was somehow magically avoiding sweating to death.

"Born and raised. And never left," he confirmed. Even his smile was charming. "You're up," he nodded with his chin, letting you know it was your turn to order.

"Oh, thanks," you mumbled, reaching for your wallet as you ordered an iced coffee. But he insisted on paying for your drink along with his, leaning slightly against your shoulder as he handed his credit card to the barista.

You turned to thank him once again, and his face was close to yours. As you opened your mouth, his eyes darted down to your lips.

"Do you want to get dinner with me tonight?" he asked, leaving you just staring at him for a beat.

"Wow," you laughed, startled that he was already asking you out. "Thank you, but no," you said, shaking your head, thoughts of Bradley filling you up and making you warm.

He just nodded once. "You're not wearing a ring. Are you seeing someone?"

You took your iced coffee from the barista and said, "Something like that."

"Well, you don't sound so sure," he replied, grabbing his drink and following you to the door. "We could just go out as friends."

"Friends?" you asked with a laugh. "You don't even know my name."

"You could tell me," he said, his tone hopeful now.

But you just shook your head and told him, "I have an early flight tomorrow. But thanks anyway." You made your way outside as he called after you, but you didn't look back.

The next morning you flew back to Virginia for a few days, before continuing on to San Diego.

-------------------------

Bradley could only spend so many hours per day working out. And when he wasn't flying a mission or eating a meal, he was usually looking at pictures of you on his phone.

He had texted you almost nonstop when he first boarded the aircraft carrier in the port in San Diego, finally calling you to hear your voice one more time before he was out of range of phone service. He kept replaying the way you said 'I love you, Beer Boy. Be safe.' before you ended the call.

You had texted him a few newer photos of yourself. Nothing crazy, but he still felt his entire body stir every time he looked at them. Which was frequently.

And when he had to take matters into his own hands, he thought about that UVA study room, and how fucking happy you made him feel. He thought about your tiny office and your bedroom. He thought about how it felt to have you wash his hair.

He could not stop thinking about you. He tried, but it didn't work. The fact that he hadn't imagined that perfect weekend with you was almost too much to bear. Now that he'd had you in his life again, he couldn't go without.

Bradley assumed you had visited both schools by now, and he was almost hoping he didn't get another chance to have a facetime call. Because he would try to use it on you. And he was terrified you were going to break his heart again, something he could better brace himself to handle from the comfort of his own home. He would call you then.

--------------------

San Diego had a lot of things going for it, primarily the weather. You seemed to be able to go outside in the middle of the day in August without nearly passing out here. Miami definitely lost points for that one.

You also liked the beaches better. They were a little more rustic and not as crowded. Everything moved at a bit of a slower pace, and you thought you could get used to that.

But your office space would be smaller, and the labs were not as updated. The salary was also a bit lower. You had called Veronica a few times, trying to sort through all of your feelings and expectations.

And you honestly tried your best to remove Bradley from the equation, just like he had asked you to. But when you did that, it was almost an even split. Neither school seemed to be able to pull through and clench the top spot.

As you paced up and down the windswept San Diego beach at sunset, you just felt like crying. You were afraid of disappointing yourself, but you were even more afraid of making the wrong decision where Bradley was concerned.

You knew what you wanted to do, but you didn't know how well he was going to take the news when he was back on land again. But you swiped away your tears and checked the time on your phone. You needed to go meet up with someone very important.

---------------------

Bradley was up and pacing in his khaki uniform, and it wasn't even light outside yet. He thought he could barely see land in the distance from the observation lounge, but maybe that was just his mind playing tricks on him. He wanted to get back, needed to be able to talk to you.

It had been six weeks. And it had felt almost as painful to him as the previous ten years without you. Because all of his memories were fresher now, a little more crisp around the edges. Your voice had faded in his mind, but was never quite forgotten. But now he could hear everything so clearly.

He wondered if you were still in Virginia. Maybe you would let him come see you again for a weekend, prolong the pain and suffering if necessary. It would be worth it to be with you again, even if you left him after that to go to Miami.

"Come on," he muttered, checking his phone to see if he had service yet. He needed to make sure Nat remembered to pick him up, but then he would plan the rest of his day around whenever you were available to talk to him.

There was no way his eyes were playing tricks now. He shielded the sun from his face with his hand and squinted, and he could definitely see land. He'd be on the dock in an hour tops, and now he was starting to feel very anxious. So he jogged out onto the walkway to get some fresh air, but even that barely helped.

Suddenly his phone started vibrating with dozens of messages and alerts, letting him know he finally had phone reception. So he called Nat with a pounding heart.

"Rooster!" she greeted when she answered after one ring. "Are you docked already? I haven't left my house yet."

"No," he said, his voice a little shaky. "Getting there, but not quite yet. Less than an hour."

"Okay, I'll leave soon. And before you ask, yes I started your dumb Bronco for you once a week."

That got him to laugh. "Thanks."

But he could always count on Nat to know exactly what was going on with him. "Are you going to call her soon and see what she's doing?"

He cleared his throat a few times. "You know, I thought I could wait until I got home and got settled. But I think I need to call her now, Nat. I'm a mess."

"I know," she replied softly. "I understand that you need to know what's going on. Just give her the benefit of the doubt, okay? Hear her out and don't judge her decision?"

Bradley raked his fingers through his hair. "I could never judge her, Nat. I just can't stop thinking about her."

"You thought about her the whole time?"

He sighed and turned away from the early morning sunlight. "The whole time."

"Oh, Bradley. Those ten years did nothing, did they?"

"No. Nothing."

Nat hummed through the phone before saying, "I'll see you soon."

Bradley paced the length of the carrier, grasping his phone in his hand. It would be late morning in Virgina. He could call you now. But if you crushed him on the spot, he would definitely prefer to be at home while he cried and drank himself into a state of forgetfulness.

If you told him you were going to Miami, but you still wanted him, he would somehow make it work. But if you told him you were going to Miami and that he wasn't going to fit in your life, he was going to have to do all of the things he really didn't want to do. Delete all the photos of you. Delete your phone number. Try to move on for good.

Because it felt like a blessing that he ran into you again last month, but he knew there would never be a third chance for him.

"Fuck," he grunted, unable to wait another minute. He pulled up your contact in his phone and looked at the recent picture of you before tapping the screen

One ring. Two. Three. Four.

"Bradley?"

"Sugar," he gasped, feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

"Hi! Are you back in San Diego now?" you asked, your voice impossibly soothing even though he knew it could break him.

"Almost," he replied, wishing he didn't have to talk over the sound of your soft breaths instead of just listening. "I can see the dock now."

"You're still on the aircraft carrier?" you asked.

"Yeah, Sugar. I couldn't wait another minute to call you." He took a deep breath. "Did you visit both schools?"

You paused for a beat. "Of course I did. I promised you I would."

He squeezed his eyes shut and asked, "How did you like Miami?"

"It was great," you told him, and his heart sank. "The offer is incredible. They have the most state of the art lab facilities I have seen since Chicago. And the offices are huge."

Bradley was cradling his forehead in his hand, thinking about getting dumped by you in his fraternity house. Thinking about how that didn't hurt as much as this potentially could.

He forced out the words. "And if you pick Miami, where does that leave us, Sugar?"

"Bradley? I'm actually meeting up with someone shortly here. Can I call you back later?"

His heart was pounding, and he let out a little laugh, because he knew he'd let you get away with this kind of shit forever. Which was why he would have to stop himself. "Yeah."

"Great, I'll talk to you soon. And Bradley?"

"Yeah, Sugar?"

"I love you."

You ended the call before he could respond. He didn't know what to think as he slowly made his way back to his bunk to gather his things together. He waited in line to deboard the carrier, and once he was on the dock, he heard Nat yelling his name.

"God, you're loud," Bradley told her, scooping her up into a tight hug. "I could hear you a mile away." He felt a little bit better now as she rubbed his back and let him hug her.

"In spite of all of your flaws, I missed you," she told Bradley with a smile, leading the way toward her car. Bradley grumbled a bit, shifting around trash and food wrappers before he could even climb in.

"This is disgusting," he said, nearly gagging as something sticky met his arm. But the terror that was the interior of his best friend's car took his mind off of you for a moment.

"That's just because you're a neat freak."

"I always have been," he agreed, "but this is next level, Nat. So gross."

As she pulled out into traffic, Bradley turned the radio on and listened to Nat tell him about work.

"What else did you get up to while I was gone?" he asked, rubbing his hands along his face.

"Oh, well I met up with a new friend I made on Instagram."

"Instagram?" he asked. "Really?"

"Yeah, she's new to the area," Nat said, giving him side eye. "I actually really think you guys would get along. I could introduce you?"

He turned to face her as she waited at a traffic light. "Nat. Come on. You know I'm waiting on Sugar." Saying the words out loud brought back his bout of nerves, and he kicked some trash out of the way so he could stretch his legs out.

"I know. It was just an idea," she said, zipping down the street once again.

"I called her," he admitted. "But we didn't talk much. She said she'd call me back."

"Really?" Nat asked, looking alarmed. "Do you know where she was?"

"Not sure. Probably Virginia, unless she already moved to Miami."

"Maybe she's out looking at apartments?" Nat asked, turning onto Bradley's street.

He didn't even want to fucking think about that. He pictured some soulless highrise in Miami, and he couldn't even imagine you there. Not after your cute little cottage with the crumbling front step. "Maybe," he mumbled, suddenly anxious to get inside his house and be alone.

Nat pulled her car in his driveway behind the Bronco; he loved that thing, and it couldn't even bring a smile to his face right now. "Thanks for the ride, Nat. I'd invite you in for some coffee, but I'm just not feeling up to it."

"No problem," she said, rubbing his shoulder with her small hand. "Why don't you call me later when you feel like it? Maybe we can get dinner or go to the Hard Deck?"

He sighed, popping the passenger door open. "Maybe."

When he started to climb out, Nat said, "Oh, Bradley. Almost forgot. I left something sweet inside for you. I hope you don't mind."

He just gave her a thumbs up, because if she went grocery shopping for him or left him something to eat, that was more than okay with him. He closed the door and waved to her, digging his house key out of the side pocket of his duffle as he walked up to his porch.

But then he froze. There was a bright yellow post-it note stuck to the middle of his pristine, white front door. He had even painted his door white for a reason, and he never wanted anything marring it. Except maybe for this.

He climbed the steps, tossing his duffle aside, and reached for the note.

BEER BOY

I love you

With shaky fingers, Bradley shoved his key into the lock and wrenched the door open.

------------------------

You had been immensely enjoying your dinner with Natasha. Once the two of you had connected on Instagram while Bradley was away, you made plans to meet her in person while you were looking at San Diego State. And now you fully understood why she was Bradley's best friend.

"I feel like I already knew you!" Nat said with a bright smile over drinks and dessert. "Is that weird? That this doesn't feel like I'm meeting a stranger?"

"No, it's not weird," you agreed with a laugh.

"Bradley has told me so much about you over the last decade. I know more about you than I do any of his other more recent girlfriends, and I'd actually met them in person," she indulged over a glass of wine and some cheesecake. "Maybe I shouldn't be telling you that." She winced at you.

You took a deep breath. "Here, I'll make us even. I got a tattoo in honor of Bradley after I moved to Chicago."

Nat just rolled her eyes. "I already knew that. He told me over facetime like three weeks ago."

You buried your face in your hands as she chuckled. Then you groaned. "I know which school I want to pick. But I think Bradley is going to have a hard time coming to terms with it."

Nat's eyes went wide. "What does that mean?"

"Well...." you began, pausing to collect your thoughts. "If I tell him I picked the University of Miami, I'm afraid I'll break his heart, and mine. Again. But, if I tell him I picked San Diego State, he's going to act all high and mighty, and tell me I shouldn't be making this decision for him."

Nat set her empty wine glass down a little hard. "You know, you're absolutely right! But he's just going to have to get the fuck over it! I know he loves you, and he would be so happy to be with you. So if you want to move to San Diego, don't let him try to stop you."

You both looked at each other before bursting into laughter. "He's making this a lot more complicated than it needs to be!" you groaned.

"He's the worst," she said, nodding in agreement. "But also the best."

"Yeah, he really is," you agreed with a small smile, really missing him right now. "Well, this was so much fun, but it's getting late." You noticed it looked like your waiter was hoping you'd vacate the table soon so he could leave.

"I hope you do pick San Diego. We could hang out," Nat said, setting down some cash on the table.

"Oh, didn't I make it clear? I'm definitely picking San Diego."

Nat actually squealed and ran around the small table to hug you. You let yourself relax into her embrace. "I'm so happy for Bradley," she muttered, releasing you with a huge smile.

"When he's being a noble pain in my ass about it, I'm calling you for help. But for now, I'm going to head back to my hotel room."

Nat grinned at that. "Why don't you just stay at his house? I have a spare key."

Your eyes went a little wide. "Without him there? You don't think he would mind?"

"No. I think he would love that."

And so you ended up staying at Bradley's house for three nights. It was just as surreal as running into him at the bar had been! His house was spotless, just like you expected it to be. But when Nat gave you a little tour, you were shocked to see so many familiar things. The spare bedroom had a framed Grateful Dead concert poster that you remember from his bedroom at the Beta house. And his office was complete with a solid wood desk and his dad's Navy desk lamp.

But after Nat left you on your own, it became increasingly difficult not to be nosy. On the morning he was due to arrive back home, you were running your fingers along his bookshelves, and you came in contact with something familiar. You pulled down your old, purple notebook from your differential equations class.

"Oh my goodness," you gasped, flipping through the pages. Because along with your old math notes, you saw little doodles and messages in the margins that matched Bradley's handwriting. You closed your eyes, and you could perfectly picture the way you used to sit on his lap in the study room while he messed around with your notes. He had written your name surrounded by a bunch of little hearts. You saw where he had written Beer Boy and Sugar with some cute little stick figures, and you laughed.

He had been moving around all over the world, and bringing this notebook with him everywhere. Your eyes filled with tears, and the desire to be with him was so strong.

And then he was calling you. You were so nervous to see him, and you didn't want to get into your decision over the phone, so you tried to throw him off.

"Bradley? I'm actually meeting up with someone shortly here. Can I call you back later?"

He sounded so dejected, so you made sure you told him you loved him before ending the call. Then you made his bed and quickly tried to tidy up his house. You fixed your hair and makeup, but he still wasn't back yet. Nat had sent you a quick text as soon as she saw him on the dock, but that had been quite a while ago.

You were pacing the length of his living room now, terrified that he would be annoyed that you'd spent a few days here. Then you heard a car in the driveway and peeked out through the window to see Nat's dirty car.

"Oh god," you whispered, finally getting to see Bradley after six weeks. He looked so handsome, and you had missed him so much. You scrambled back to the middle of the room when you saw him walk up the porch steps, a look of shock on his face.

The sound of the key in the lock and the way he swung the white door open wide had you chewing on your lip.

"Sugar?" he asked, standing in his entryway and gaping at you.

"Hi, Beer Boy," was all you could manage to say as your heart pounded in your ears. But he looked so stunned, you felt yourself start to smile.

He took a few steps closer to you. "What are you doing here, baby?"

You felt like you could melt inside. Just the sight of him in his uniform had you aching. He was gorgeous, and you loved him so much. You took a step closer as well.

"I was actually wondering if it was okay if I had my boxes shipped here? I don't have an office for another week or so, and I'm still looking at apartments."

He was running one hand through his hair, making it stand on end, and his mouth was open, but no words were coming out.

"Unless...you don't want me to?" you whispered, watching him slowly close the distance between the two of you until he was standing barely a foot away.

"Please, Sugar. Please tell me what that means."

You swallowed hard, looking up at him. You gently ran your hands up to rest on his chest. "I'm picking San Diego. I'm picking you. I'm picking us. If that's still what you want, too?"

A strangled sound escaped his lips, and then his mouth was on yours and you were in his arms. He kissed you deeply as your arms gripped his shoulders, and he held you tight.

"You mean that?" he asked between kisses, nibbling at your lips, barely giving you a chance to answer as he deepened the kiss. Just as you were relaxing into his embrace, he pulled his lips from yours. "You really mean it, Sugar?"

"I really mean it, Beer Boy."

He closed his eyes and ran one hand over his face, sighing deeply. But he still held you snug against him. Then he opened his eyes and gazed down at you.

"I've been dreaming about this for ten years," he whispered, brown eyes soft. "I love you."

"I love you, too," you replied with a smile.

He nodded, and you ran your fingers along his mustache, making him smile. "You can send all your stuff here, Sugar." He kissed your fingers. "You should move in with me. Don't leave or look at more apartments. Stay here."

It felt right. You knew it did. Just like San Diego State felt like the place for you. "Okay. I'll stay."

He licked his lips and kissed your forehead twice, pulling you impossibly closer to him. "And be my girlfriend again?" he whispered against your hair.

You smiled and buried your face against the collar of his uniform shirt. "You were the best boyfriend I ever had. You can have the title again."

"I love you," he whispered, over and over until his lips found yours again.

-----------------------

It feels soooo good! But, only two more parts to this story! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

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kaisertheadvisor · 9 months

Text

Alright, time for some obscure Persona 3 history. I was browsing the old Japanese Persona 3 website, when I stumbled across something interesting. This is what it looks like normally (Vanilla P3 specifically)

But on certain captures of this website on the Wayback Machine, it was set to midnight (JST). The website was coded to have a special easter egg that goes off around that time, as the Dark Hour clock appears...

And then the site is now in the Dark Hour.

Click on the Akihiko, Mitsuru, Fuuka, and Junpei, and cause them to disappear, and Yukari will start to glow.

And you will have unlocked a secret section of the Japanese website! This mostly contained diary entries on various perspectives regarding the Dark Hour (on one section, there even was text regarding Strega's revenge request site), but there also were some secret downloads, namely a supposedly early version of a Persona 3 commercial (which Google translate says it was rejected by a TV station for containing subliminal content?), MP3 downloads, a video showcasing the P3 girls in maid costumes in Tartarus, and a message from Elizabeth to the player (which acted as a tease towards the new Elizabeth requests being added in FES). I have the latest capture of the secret section of the website, as well as a capture of the website during the Dark Hour so you can try this for yourself! (You'll need Ruffle for this)

Speaking of the Persona 3 website, let's go over some of the evolution of the P3 website! Here's the original version of the website when Persona 3 was first announced.

It was updated from P3's initial announcement in March towards May when the newer website was launched, last major update was Fuuka Yamagishi's character profile. Here's a Wayback Machine link for you to try it out yourself.

Here is the website around the time they were teasing FES. Makoto is replaced with Aigis, and there was a section containing audio messages from the developers that would help tease FES. (So far, they are lost media? Hopefully some fan manages to recover them)

And here is the FES version of the website, with both the normal and Dark Hour variations. (Metis replaces Yukari on the Dark Hour variation of the website, though I cannot access the secret section, probably because the silly toaster is blocking the way)

And just for funzies, I thought I'd include this link regarding P3 ads in this blogpost on the old AtlusNet. Hopefully somebody will get high quality scans of the magazine ads and promos used to promote P3 in both Japanese and English.

Now to wonder, what other crazy P3 promotional stunts did Atlus do? I know there was a countdown on the Atlus USA website that counted down the days until the release information on FES would be provided to the world, and I'm well aware of various Japanese gaming magazines that had various info on P3 (that so far only exist as JPEGS on the old Digital Devil Database and other websites), but man, I wanna know more. The fans should be archiving a lot of this stuff. Reload has re-triggered my Persona 3 phase, and I want to know more secrets about the game. I honestly think there's a lot of cool things waiting for us down the line...

#persona 3 #atlus #2000s game advertising was wild man #hopefully a lot of this doesn't end up as lost media #i'm just doing my best to archive a lot of this stuff for future fans of persona 3 #maybe if atlus had the guts they'd bring back the old websites for april fools day #course i'm waiting for someone to remake the old persona 3 website but this time with the reload art for the characters

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mangocustard16 · 11 months

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It was always you~

| synopsis: Childhood friends Jeonghan and Y/N, separated by distance, find their way back to each other in university, igniting a journey from friendship to love filled with whispered confessions and electrifying moments.

| pairing: non-idol childhood bff!jeonghan x reader

| genre: fluff

| warnings: none

| w.c: 960

| a/n: this is pure fluff, story about how two separated hearts find each other once again.

Jeonghan had always been more than just a friend. He was your confidant, who had stood by your side since childhood. You were childhood friends with a history that spanned back to the early years, making it inevitable that something more profound was bound to happen between you two.

You and Jeonghan met as kids, attending the same middle school. You were inseparable, partners in crime on every adventure that childhood had to offer. You shared secrets, laughter, and countless jokes, forming a bond that no one could understand. Your parents encouraged you to spend most of your childhood together. Sitting next to each other in every class, stealing pens, and scribbling on each other's notebooks.

But as life would have it, high school brought new challenges and new schools. Because of work, his father had to relocate to another city. The separation was tough, and it felt like a piece of your heart was missing without Jeonghan by your side. However, you both had a tacit understanding that this was necessary for your individual growth. The emotional goodbyes were filled with promises to meet again someday.

As time flew by, you found yourself in university, a fresh start in a new city. The transition was a bit intimidating, but you were determined to make the most of it. As you nervously walked into the university campus on your first day, the last person you expected to see stood there, grinning from ear to ear. It was Jeonghan. You ran towards him with open arms and hugged him in a cliche airport reunion style.

"What are you doing here?"

"Are you also going to this university?"

"What courses do you have?"

"Are you staying in the dorms?" you fired away without breaking the hug.

Jeonghan decided to have a little fun with your eagerness. "Oh! I was here just for today; I'll go back by evening.", he said pulling away slightly.

Your face fell, and you sighed, a playful pout forming on your lips. "Oh…"

Seeing your disappointment, Jeonghan immediately regretted his teasing and couldn't bear to see you sad. "I'm just messing with you," he admitted with a chuckle. "I'm really joining this university."

Relief washed over you, and you couldn't help but give his arm a playful slap. "You're mean! " As your eyes met, all those years apart seemed to fade away.

Your friendship was rekindled, and it didn't take long for the sparks of something more to start flying. You started attending classes together, studying together, and going out on adventures just like in the old days.

One evening, you found yourselves at a crowded university party, lost in the sea of strangers. Jeonghan leaned in close, his voice a soft caress against your ear. "We should definitely get out of here. Don't you think so?" he whispered. Your heart raced, and you cursed at yourself for stammering, "Y-yeah, sure. Uh-huh." He chuckled at your shyness, knowing full well the effect he had on you.

His fingers gently brushed against your hand as he extended it towards you, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. It was a small, intimate gesture, yet it spoke volumes about his intentions.

Feeling your cheeks flush with a deep shade of red, you couldn't help but look down, trying to hide your embarrassment. The pounding of your heart reverberated in your ears as you hesitantly slipped your hand into his. With a gentle tug, Jeonghan led you away from the bustling party. The soft strains of music and the chatter of other guests slowly faded into the background as you followed him. You couldn't help but steal glances at him, his profile illuminated by the dim party lights, his smile never leaving his face.

And in that moment, you realised that your heart had long crossed the threshold of being just friends.

Jeonghan's roommate had been relentlessly gushing about how adorable you were. Their praises seemed never-ending, and they had begun to get under Jeonghan's skin. He overheard them talk about your charming smile, your infectious laughter, and the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your passion. Burning with jealousy, he showed up outside your class, leaning against the wall, trying to appear casual despite the racing of his heart.

Jeonghan held your hand, pulling you aside. "We could be more, you know?" he said softly, his eyes locked onto yours. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you feigned ignorance. "Hmmm?" "What do you want us to be other than friends?" you teased. "You know exactly what I want," he whispered back, your cheeks turning a light shade of red.

Your newfound connection led to secret smiles and inside jokes that only the two of you understood. You'd burst into fits of laughter, just like in your childhood, while others stared at you, thinking you were both crazy. But you knew better; you were simply crazy in love.

Another afternoon, Jeonghan playfully caged you between his arms, leaning in so close that your breaths mingled. "I know exactly what you're thinking," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. You couldn't help but blush, your heart racing. "Wtf?" you thought, but deep down, you knew exactly what he meant. "May I…kiss you?" Your breath catches in your throat and you force yourself to say something, finally making out a small 'yes' before your lips are attached and you forget how to breathe.

It was a journey from friends to lovers, a story of whispered confessions, shared laughter, and electrifying moments that made you realize that, in the end, it had always been him—it had always been Jeonghan. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that your bond, forged in childhood and tested by time, had evolved into something deeper, something that would last a lifetime.

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