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luveline · 2 months

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Hii! How are you?

I love all ur fics especially Hotch and his adult daughter ones. They are just brilliant<3 Can u please write something with Hotch being worried about his daughter as faints or get injured? Thank you!

thank you for requesting! <3 fem, 2k

There are silver-linings to your concussion. Not many, and he’d much prefer you were better, but silver linings all the same.

You, unable to look after yourself with on-again off-again dizziness and shortness of breath, have no choice but to stay at Aaron’s house. (Well, you could’ve stayed home, and he could’ve come to visit you a few times a day while your mother worked, but this is easier on his gas tank and his heart.)

The silver lining is that he actually gets to spend time with you, large swaths of it, and that he gets to see you without your smart formalwear for the first time since you’d met all but four months ago. It will never not be strange to have a daughter and to be her acquaintance, but Aaron feels that this time is perfect to get to know you beyond two hour dinners and texts.

It is admittedly occasionally awkward, but he doesn’t expect it to be easy. He doesn’t need you to pretend that you’re more comfortable with him than you are, or that he’s been there for you as you deserved. He wishes he was, and he can’t forgive your mother for keeping you a secret, but he can understand her reasoning (to some extent), and he can try to give you what you deserve, because it is about you. You’re a young woman who deserves a father and has one now. He’s determined to prove that it isn’t too late.

You curl on the family couch with a new pillow under your head. You wear pyjamas he bought you, socks you’ve borrowed, and a big blanket covers your legs. Jack sits on your feet eating grapes from a bowl.

You look younger without makeup. Aaron can almost see you as a kid.

“You want another grape?” Jack asks you.

“Please, buddy,” you whisper, holding out your hand.

You’re trying not to talk or move too much, as movement hurts your nose, which was broken. Aaron still can’t believe someone hurt you —you were assaulted in the subway during a city riot and passed out as result, where you hit your head, and ended up where you are now with post concussive syndrome.

A bad fall can do such great harm, he can’t imagine how awful it would’ve been to have met you and had you stolen from him that swiftly. He’s a lucky man.

Aaron almost hadn’t answered when you called, about to change into Kevlar and prepare the BAU for an anti-terroism strike that Strauss shoved into their laps. He’d smiled briefly at your contact photo and thought of the phone call he’d have with you later to apologise for missing the first, but then he got a strange feeling. What could it hurt for him to make sure you weren’t in the centre of it?

“Do you want water?” Jack asks.

You hold out your hand again, searching for Jack’s. You find it and give his fingers a squeeze. “No thank you. You don’t have to worry about me, I just want you to watch your movie.”

“I’ve seen it a hundred– hundred times,” he says, taking his hand back to eat another grape. After a moment, he lays his cheek against your legs where you have them bunched up.

“Don’t choke on your grapes,” you say.

“Don’t worry,” he says.

You laugh quietly. “I won’t.”

Aaron closes his laptop, having failed to work from home in the armchair beside you both. He might need some help to get back to a functioning place when he returns to the office, but his hands itch with a different need today. He checks his watch.

“Time for another dose, if you want it?” he asks you.

“Please.”

It’s only anti-nausea and painkillers, but you’re quite dependent on them. He’s staying on top of them, because on your second morning here, you’d woken up and forgotten the anti-nausea. Being sick with a broken nose is agony. He doesn’t wanna see you crying again. (Though again, that had made you closer. To get to rub your back, and promise it wasn’t too disgusting, he could deal with it no problem.)

Haley hums in the kitchen. She’s happy to have her way, which is to have him home, if vaguely bitter that it’s for you. He understands her annoyance, but it’s different. If Jack were attacked and recovering, of course Aaron would be home with him, as he’s home with you, but he won’t stay home for much less and lately, it's been a point of great contention between them.

Still, she’s a good woman who looks after everyone the best that she can. Your pills are waiting on the counter with a glass of apple juice and a muffin, and your laundry is being folded from the dyer next to Jack’s.

Aaron ushers her in for a grateful hug, a kiss pressed to her soft cheek. “Thank you, honey.”

“You’re welcome. She shouldn’t take so much tylenol when she’s barely eating. You’re gonna have to convince her.”

“I will. I was thinking I’d make soup. You know, my mom’s split pea. What do you think?”

“Does she like split pea soup?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just ask, Aaron,” she says, not without sympathy.

“I was going to.”

Haley gives a long sigh. “I’m sorry.”

He rubs her arm. They’ve been very far apart lately, so far that he’s wondered if they’re not going to make it work, but for today they seem back in sync.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says.

“No, I am. I know it’s impossible, but I keep imagining how I would feel if it happened to me.” She wipes lint or maybe nothing from his collar. “What if I had a baby out there and I knew nothing about her? It’s not… not fair on either of you.”

“Worse things have happened, Hale.” Because it really is awful, but he doesn’t need anyone to feel sorry for him. You, yes. Poor girl, your poor nose. Aaron gives Haley a quick kiss. “We’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it, hm?”

“Okay, honey. Well, find out what she wants for dinner.”

“I’m gonna make it.”

“I can make it.” She moves back to her pile of laundry. “I don’t have much to do, with you home. It’s nice.”

He winces, grabbing your pills, your juice, and the muffin. Aaron has no qualms sharing duties, but he can’t have this conversation again. Of course it’s nice to be home, that’s not the issue.

You and Jack are exactly where he left you eating grapes and watching TV, but you’ve shifted upward a little to make more room for him, the blanket now over his legs.

“Are you looking after your big sister?” Aaron asks. He can’t help himself.

Jack grins at him. “Yeah, dad. We need more grapes.”

“Yeah?” Aaron walks around the couch to pass you the few pills into your hand. He crouches in front of you. It hasn’t stopped feeling alien, suddenly having two kids, but it has started to feel right. “It’s dinner time soon, Jack, can you wait? I don’t want you to have a full tummy.”

“What’s for dinner?” he asks.

Aaron passes you the glass of juice for you to wash down the pills. “I was thinking we’d let Y/N choose…” He taps your knee gently. “Do you have a craving for anything?”

“I can’t choose,” you say.

His hand turns to cup your knee, hoping it isn’t too much. “Sure you can. Jack chooses dinner all the time.”

“I’ll eat whatever.”

“You’ve barely eaten all day, isn’t there something you love? Something soft?”

You look like him when you’re not happy. Unsure, you look to Jack. “Can’t Jack pick, please?”

“It’s your turn,” Jack says.

Aaron puts the muffin he’d been given for you on your knee. “Honey, just think about it. There’s no rush. You and Jack can live off grapes for the rest of the night.”

“Mean,” you murmur.

Jack slips off of the couch with his bowl. He makes for the kitchen, his wobbly declarations of love cute and ringing when he sees his mom. “Hi, mommy. You’re pretty. Can I have grapes?”

“Hi baby.”

You smile, fingertip playing with the muffin’s paper casing. “He’s so lovely.”

“I know.”

“It’s okay, right?”

Aaron holds your gaze. Not commanding, but listening intently. “What’s okay?”

“For us to– you know. To cuddle.”

“Yes, it’s okay. Jack makes his own mind up about things, and if he wants to cuddle with you, he will. If you don’t want him to cuddle, you can ask him for space.”

“It’s strange,” you say, laying your face against your pillow, muffin ignored, “to have a brother now.”

“Bad strange?” he asks.

You smile. Almost hopeful. “No.”

Aaron does know what you’re thinking. He has four months of evidence on your behaviour, and you aren’t dishonest, so he believes his frame of reference to be correct. Right now, you’re feeling unwell, maybe the pain in your face is flaring or your concussion is giving you grief, but you seem to already love your little brother. If not love, then to be very fond of him. You have similar feelings about Aaron, but you’re shy about showing it.

He understands that you might not feel very close to him so soon, he understands that you’re practically still strangers, but he loves you. Maybe it’s something innate in being your father, but he really does love you.

It’s like being passed your baby —you don’t know your baby, they’re a baby, but you love them. Aaron doesn’t know if you like vegetable soup more than French onion, if you like buttered bread or a dinner roll or toasted baguette on the side, but he’ll learn.

“I’ll make you anything you want for dinner,” he says softly, looking for your hand in the blankets, and taking it with similar care. “You just have to tell me what you like.”

You look down at his hand.

“Sorry for making things difficult.”

“You’re not making anything difficult.” His thumb rubs your hand of its own accord. “You aren’t difficult. You’re remarkably easy to look after.”

“Thank you.”

“If you could just pick what you wanted for dinner…”

You both laugh at one another, and you wince at the soreness in your nose. Aaron stands from his crouch with aching legs to pat you on the shoulder.

“I’ll figure something out,” he says. “I’m a good guess, usually.”

“Okay. Thank you, Aaron,” you say, resting with a sore squint back against your nest.

In the kitchen, Jack sits in Haley’s lap, his bowl filled again with more grapes. She’s chewing on one when he comes back. “Hey, did she decide?”

“Not yet. I’m working on it.”

“Well, we have time.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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gatorbites-imagines · 6 months

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Hi! I love your fics!

Can you do a Snobby!Rich!M!Reader x Jason Todd where Jason sees the reader at one of Bruce’s gala, boasting about how rich he (his dad) is. Jason thinks nothing of it at first until the reader starts coming up to Jason and bragging about how much richer he is etc. Eventually, Jason gets so fed up he takes the reader to his room where he fucks the shit out of the reader until the reader is begging and whining. Kinda like brat taming.

Jason Todd x Snobby Rich Male Reader

ficlet

Might have made the reader kind of an airhead, on accident. Hes also got some muscle, but in the “I only have muscles to look good” typa way.

Trying to stretch the writers muscle, since writers block has had me in a violent chokehold for weeks now. Not proof read for this reason, and because i have a major headache.

Jason rarely attended the various galas Bruce, or rather the Wayne name or Wayne enterprises, threw. He had only been dragged along because of a bet he had lost during their last patrol, meaning he had no choice but to go, since none of the others wanted to go to this specific gala. New investors were invited, which meant new money, which meant snobbier than usual rich folk.

It wasn’t hard to see you were new money when you arrived, from the way you carried yourself to the way you dressed. You didn’t stand out much amongst the rest of the new money folk, in expensive brands that cared more about the name than the actual design. But compared to the usual old money that normally attended Wayne galas, you stood out like a sore thumb. The way you were bragging didn’t help either, though, everyone seemed to be bragging, like some kind of measuring contest.

It only became a problem when you started bragging to him. You didn’t even seem to care that he was a Wayne, and definitely much richer than you. He found himself indulging your rambling and peacocking in the beginning, it wasn’t Jasons fault his type were cocky little brats who thought they were untouchable.

The way you fluttered around, chest puffed out, hand on your cocked hip as your lip pouted in a way that made Jason want to bite it. As you grew more tipsy your bragging went from cute to obnoxious, making a heady annoyance start brimming under his skin.

Jason felt what little patience he had left snap when you were so obnoxious as to pull up your Gucci shirt, your lips in such a cocky grin as you showed him the red diamond piercings in your nipples. Seeing the red against your flushed skin made his jaws clench, and before your next brag and boast could sputter out of you, Jasons large hand closed around your bicep and pulled you his way.

You stumbled as Jason lugged you up the many stairs inside the manor, up to the upper floors that were never open during galas, down the hallways and in through a door. There wasn’t much time for you to look around, or comment about the poor looking design, before Jason was upon you like a starved wolf upon a rabbit.

His lips were dry, and this close you could feel the scars carved against them. The noise that left you was borderline pathetic as his tongue slid between your lips, the thick muscle dragging against the roof of your mouth, before Jason truly started devouring you. Grasping uselessly at his suit jacket, you felt so unsure on your feet and dizzy, like you were about to collapse against him.

A sharp gasp tumbled out of you as Jason picked you up, his strong arms flexing like you weighed nothing. It clicked somewhere in the back of your mind that those muscles of his weren’t just for show. Not like you who only worked out and ate well to have the appearance the masses only dreamed of. As you were lost in your thoughts Jason threw you down on the bed, his strong hands grasping at your shirt and jacket, ripping the fabric down the middle, resulting in you whining and crowing in the way only a spoiled rich person could.

The breath that he huffed out was sharp and short, his green eyes flicking up to meet yours, so much intensity in them that you felt your spine straighten. “Ill buy you something better” he grunted as he ripped your pants and boxers, shredding the fugly fabric and throwing the strips off to the side like useless trash.

It was habit at this point that had you whining and complaining, even going as far as to roll onto your front and kicking your legs in a pitiful way, complaining the entire time about him not respecting you or your things, and how he was just some dumb musclehead that didn’t know anything.

Jason didn’t even have the energy to act like he was listening, watching as the muscles of your back flex and pull. There was no true definition for your build, no muscles built from hard work or a rough life, like you were some kinda kendoll with the perfect muscle to fat ratio and specialized trainers. But it did give you an amazing ass, round and perky, the sight of it making Jason drool with the need to taste.

Your next protest was completely cut off as Jasons rough scarred hands grabbed your cheeks, spreading them just far enough for him to bury his mouth between them. A high-pitched squeak that melted into a watery whine rang from you, as Jasons broad wet tongue buried itself in your hole. Burying your face into one of his pillows, you tried to silence the embarrassing noises, eyes prickling with unshed tears as Jason’s hand snuck under your hips to fondle your weeping hardness.

Jason pulled back with a wet slurp, his lips and chin covered in drool as he glanced up over the expanse of your back, seeing the way your head was ducked down and hiding. “I thought you were whining, come on, tell me how much you hate it” he purred, voice deep and hot, making your insides clench as it felt like honey running down your spine.

You lift your face enough to stutter out a few half thought out protests and fussy words, none of them actually making much sense. Behind you Jason smirked, knowing what little brain you had was struggling hard to piece together your usual bravado, which also allowed him to coat his fingers in lube and warm it up enough to not be too uncomfortable.

Once again, your words were cut off as Jasons slicked fingers slid inside you, Jason crawling up enough to rest against your back. He was much bulkier than you were, his scarred torso pressed against your own blemish free back, his weight pressing you deeper into the mattress.

There were a few attempts to insult him, but the way Jason seemed to have expertly found your prostate, and how he kept rubbing against it, you found it very hard to form your lips to muster up any meaningful words. It all felt like too much, everything was too hot, too slick, too stimulating but also not enough, and Jason only seemed to enjoy your reactions more and more.

Through it all Jason made sure to press kisses against your shoulders and neck, the dirtiest but most delicious words mumbled into your ear, as his fingers twisted and turned in ways that had you tearing up. You didn’t even notice how he added more fingers, until Jason finally withdrew them completely and he sat back on his haunches.

It took more brainpower than you had at the moment to peek over your shoulder, your eyes shooting wide at his overly scarred torso, but also the weapon he was rolling a condom down onto. As if sensing your thoughts Jason crawled back on top of you, rubbing himself against you as he reassured you that it would fit, you just had to be good.

The comment about your behavior made you sour, scrunching up your brows and sticking out your lip in a pout. Instead of scolding you, Jason just hooked an arm around your upper torso, turning you enough to kiss you, just to distract you enough to keep you loose and pliant for him to slide inside. The stretch had you whining, but it didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as you thought it would, and soon Jason was seated fully inside.

It had never been Jason’s plan to go easy on you, but he gave you enough time to adjust before he started moving, drawing back before pushing back in with a strong thrust of his hips. Like his fingers Jason seemed way too skilled at finding your prostate, which made your arms give out and sending you crashing back into the mattress as his hips shoved against your own.

His tone was almost taunting as Jason lifted you up by the grip he had around your torso, his voice thick and mocking in a hot and fluid way, reminding you to breathe. It was only then that you realized you had been holding your breath, the air fucked right out of your lungs every time he shoved into you, and his fast and deep pace gave you no time to gasp air back into your lungs.

Tears blurred your vision as you panted and almost drooled, hands clawing and grasping at the sheets. You were sure you must of cum at least once, if not twice, but Jason gave you no time to bask in it or fully register it before the next jab against your prostate had you reeling.

The noises that left you might have been begs and pleas, for him to go harder, faster, for more, but you couldn’t have been sure. At some point Jason even started praising you, making sure to speak right into your ear, telling you just how good you were taking it, and wasn’t it just so much nicer to not be such a brat? A warbly whine left you in response, a full body shudder crashing through you, as you tumbled over the edge for what must have been the third time.

Jason seemed to finally have met his own end, a deep guttural groan ringing from his chest as you bottomed out, his eyes clenched and brows furrowed as he spilled into the rubber around his length. Part of him regretted not just taking you raw, but there was always next time.

You must have fallen asleep or passed out, as you were clean and in a pair of boxers when you next came too. You were even laying against Jason’s chest, one of his strong arms wrapped around your back to keep you pressed against him, ear against his pec, his heartbeat strong and even. A soft kiss was pressed against the top of your head, Jason muttering for you to go back to sleep.

And who were you to protest. Normally you would have started a fuss just because he thought he could order you around, but the way a deep satisfying exhaustion hung over you was enough to keep you quiet and compliant, for now. As you slumped back against him Jason just chuckled slightly, flipping to the next page in the book he was reading, his other hand rubbing up and down your back. Maybe you weren’t so bad as he had thought, Jason didn’t even mind your snooty attitude, since he gave him an excuse to tame the brat right out of you.

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michi-katsu · 2 months

Text

~Kokushibo: Having sex headcanons.

Pairing: Kokushibo x Fem!reader.

Genre: Smut.

Word count: 768.

From fingering you so hard without any effort, making you faint and cum several times from that pleasant pain and painful pleasure his large fingers cause right deep into your spot.

To long, slow, gentle, passionate love making sessions where he cherishes you, it being loving and painful at the same time.

He wants to please you well, due to his demon strength, height and size, he knows he can easily make you feel a deep and penetrating pain, but, knowing you love this, it absolutely drives him wild.

Loves to have you sitting on him, moving you up and down his length with even just one hand, playing with how deep he gets inside of you.

He loves to watch you in silence, closely admiring your faces of pain and pleasure, occasionally whispering things into your ear, turning you on even more, demanding you as his while you're a trembling mess.

"Enjoying this, my love? Daddy knows you do".

"Want to feel me deeper, princess? Should I get completely inside of you, just like this?"

"Does it hurt? Yes? Still, you don't want me to stop? Good baby girl".

"Daddy's doing as you please, sweetheart".

Your moans, gasps and pleads, your voice broken by the combination of pain and pleasure he's causing you are the sweetests melody to his ears.

Loves the spoon position, since it allows him to play with an even deeper and more painful penetration, his large hand occasionally turning your face towards him to lovingly kiss your lips.

Actually loves every position where he can have your face close to his.

Will moan and exhale in pleasure as he watches his member pounding in and out of you, absolutely loves the sight.

His gesture stands serious and imperturbable, yet his eyes stare at you with extreme desire and lust most of the time.

Absolutely loves how you're unable to talk when he gets a little rough.

He really enjoys being in control of the situation, although, you trying to get the lead would just turn him on so much that he would roughly fuck you.

"You asked Daddy for this, huh? Should I fuck you harder now?"

Lowly moans and growls when your nails scratch his back, when you bury your fist into his hair or hold on to his arms tightly as a result of his deep, hard thrusts.

His grip on your skin will leave bruises, marks and scratches, loves giving you a few (more like a lot) hickeys as well.

Trust me, he knows the consequences of using all his strength, therefore, he tries to restrain himself, since he knows the damage he can cause you, he has fallen deeply in love with you and definitely does not want to lose you.

Be it slow, passionate sex or rough and hard, always expect a little pain after the act, most of the time you will end up with a little bleeding as if you were having your period, and lots of his own cum dripping down your inner thighs, of course.

Dizzy, upon noticing your blood, he goes wild to eat you out, he demands it, as an order to protect you from demons being attracted by the sweet aroma of your blood, but in reality he loves to taste you, not just your blood, your pussy is his favorite treat.

Loves to finish inside of you since his release feels so good deep inside your tight walls, also because this is one way to mark you as his.

Sometimes will release his cum inside you and without pulling out, will inmediately continue with the next round. For him, a single lovemaking session can last for hours, while you're laying exhausted and already came several times.

Kokushibo is the sweetest after sex, attentive and loving, loves when you act loving towards him too, he loves having you in his arms while he admires your beauty and the panting mess he has made of you, the bruises, hickeys and marks his mouth and hands have left on your body, he thinks you look cute and sexy, he feels proud to have you pleased (and overstimulated), proud of having so many of his traces on you, he will caress and kiss you romantically, constantly asking how you are, if you need anything and repeatedly telling you how beautiful you are, declaring you his at the same time.

If your response is to inmediately ask for the next round, he will just become so turned on that maybe your legs won't work for the next couple of days, be sure he won't let you go.

#kimetsu no yaiba #kokushibo #kokushibo x reader #kokushibo smut #kokushibo headcanons #kokushibo x you #upper moon one #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba smut #kny #kny x reader #kny smut

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goldsbitch · 8 months

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Just don't talk-

-if you can't hear me. p2 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Lando can't stand Y/N, the first female driver in F1. He also can't stand not having her with her clothes on.

warnings: minors do not interact, biting, cursing...just generally don't take this one too seriously

It would have been too obvious by the media teams to put Lando and Y/N together in a video out of the blue without any obvious reasons. The brands were not connected in any way and had a completely different online strategy. But serious damage had been done by the two at their last joint interview, so there was a meeting between the teams and F1 media and the request to have them paired up together at a next bubbly F1 video was bargained for and agreed upon in exchange for some favors.

There was a long and very detailed briefing for each of them. At the end they even received something resembling a script. They were both quite good at public speaking and charming the crowds, but it only worked on a spontaneity and intuition base. They were far from actors and the more instructions they received, the more mad it made them, each one in a different way, of course, because hell would freeze over before these two had found something in common. Lando had to fight the urge in him to slam the doors on all of these people. All this media planning was making Y/N dizzy. Had it been anyone else, she'd be slaying this like a pro. But for some stupid reason the PR teams were just not going to let them go and bury their little feud down. She thought this was a bad idea anyway - nothing good could come out of this.

And yet, there they were. Getting ready for the shoot in an F1 hospitality centre, with twenty other people, mostly film crew members. The two barely looked at each other, let alone said hello, just casually pretending the other one is invisible. The director really tried to get them hyped up before the shoot, resulting in one of the most awkward silence the poor lady had ever had the misfortune to have on her set. Only once she gave up and excused herself pretending to be adjusting the camera shot, did Lando shoot a quick look at Y/N. She'd already been looking at him. In that one look they shared their own hidden amusement, obviously enjoying having people being thrown into awkward situations because of their own incompetence to manage each other. At least, this was what Y/N was thinking. Lando was thinking about the gap between her thighs. And only she saw the way his eyes shot down shamelessly to her chest and giving her a quick approving look, probably non verbally complimenting the way hot the race suit covered her chest tightly.

"Who does a whisper challenge in this day and age anyway?" was an unspoken thought that many people shared while getting ready for yet another whisper challenge video to complete the collage of several driver from different team duos, one of which being the pair that was secretly playing with each other under the bedsheets every other night.

Finally, after final touch ups, they were sitting on a couch, across each other and as far away as the couch allowed. That was a conscious decision, as their bodies were becoming so familiar to the proximity and contact, that they had to actively stop each other from mimicking each other's gestures. "Ok guys, I understand this might not be the most comfortable thing you ever did, but we will have to push through it. Lando, will you be ready to introduce the video concept?"

"Yeah, sure," Lando sighed, trying desperately not let anything he that was actually on his mind slip his mouth. Like for example how stupid this was.

He turned his full on youtuber style speech mode on within seconds, actually shocking Y/N.

"Welcome everyone, we're here with F1 and today, we'll be trying a cross team whisper challenge - you never know with whom you'll be sharing a team in the next years anyway!" he said, having the first line vaguely memorized.

"Cut," said the director immediately after that first line. "Thank you Lando, that was some great energy," she dug deep into her professional training and started on the one thing that was positive. "But, the line should be something like "because we rarely get to know one another", your version is opening up place for some unwanted speculations. And, Y/N, you were obviously not ready, as your expression in more of a shock that excitement." It took them five more takes on this before the director made a note mentally to shoot a back up version with a different driver pair.

All the questions had a weird undertone. They were competing more than this situations required. People normally laughed during the takes - Lando was an expert on this, he did videos like this with Oscar often, and he gave him almost nothing to work with. He still managed. Not with Y/N. Tension grew over time. Y/N got almost all of her guesses on the first go. When it was his time, he was opted for staying silent than taking a wrong guess, so she had to repeat everything three times at least. Nobody in the room was having fun. The media interns present were terrified of having to present this at their next meeting and were already trying to find the most upbeat song to pair this up with in their group chat. Few more questions to end this nightmare of an afternoon for everyone.

"Would you like drive with me or do you prefer Oscar?" Lando's face was blank. Not giving any reaction. Y/N took a deep breath and looked to Lando's eyes once again. Same look as she had that one time he tied her up. Frustrated. "Would you like drive with me or do you prefer Oscar?" Still nothing. Dry. She smiled and repeated, loudly as if that was to help. "Would you like drive with me or do you prefer Oscar?" Lando finally responded. Without a beat. "Would you like to ride with me to see who comes first? Brain reads what the mind wants. One would think silence does not have a volume. Anyone present in that room on that day would know better. There were levels to silence and this was a loud one.

Now, innuendos were fairly normal theme in whisper challenges. And they were fun, little things to spice a lonely afternoon for those who were watching. But there was just something in the chemistry these two had that you could not just laugh it off or go on the "will they won't they" route. Aggressive undertone overcame any other vibes. There were two other lines for Lando to guess, he did not get any of them and the whole shoot was quickly wrapped up after. Both of them exited, again, without a word to anyone. Y/N was fuming internally. She texted Lando to come and see her immediately. So her dressing room it was.

"What the fuck, Lando?!"

"Hello to you too, miss fun," he responded, annoyed as ever.

"Don't. Just don't."

Communication was definitely not something they'd win contests at.

"You're exhausting me! I'm like...so mad!"

"Eloquent. You should write poetry. Would be treat to read," he responded, unfased by her outburst.

"Fine. Fuck you then," she lost it completely, anger and frustration built up in her finally taking the best of her. He thought she was mad? He hadn't seen mad. She could not care less of what he thought of her. When she got closer to him, he thought she was going for a kiss. Instead she grabbed him arm and bit him hard. Shock wave ran thought Lando and he froze in the spot. She held her teeth in long and firmly. Shock was quickly replaced by pain, a lot of pain. He played a hero for few moments and then gasped. She stopped with the first sound he made. He stared at her, shocked, confused and weirdly turned on. The pain turned into adrenaline high. A really strange high. He quickly looked at his arm and saw a bruise forming, marking the shape of her teeth. She had a proud look on her face, finally getting it out of her system.

"Great. Better now. Hope it stays on for weeks."

With that, she walked away, leaving confused and dazed Lando behind in her dressing room. He could still feel her teeth in and the adrenaline as if he had just drank three double espressos in one sitting. Why was this turning him on. Why was anything she did the hottest thing anyone ever did. And how the fuck was he suppose to cover this up. He had a photoshoot scheduled for tomorrow. And when was he going get to fuck her again?

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killerpancakeburger · 3 months

Text

One man's penalty is another man's prize

SUMMARY: When agreeing to lend a hand with the organisation of some military tests, you thought it would be limited to marking times and keeping scores. Statistically, there was no way that the... "creative" penalty you came up with would be selected, right?

And the chances for your boyfriend to be the one subjected to it had to be close to zero, right?

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader (Soaps calls Reader Ma'am twice, that's it)

TAGS: Civilian!Reader, Fat!Reader, Smug!Soap x1000, a bit Possessive!Soap, Established Relationship, flirting, banter, teasing, partial nudity. Making Shit Up for the Plot/military inaccuracies. Suggestive content but nothing graphic.

WORDS COUNT: 2k

A/N: crackfic...? Soap does push-ups fic. Soap wears booty shorts fic. That actually no one One (1) person asked for.

If you need "visual on the target", this piece by @rusticfurnace and this one by @wombywoo have been on my mind. (Hoping its ok to tag, if not, tell me)

For @glitterypirateduck Cod Vacation Mode Challenge, prompt 27.

A drop of sweat falls from your temple and lands onto the stack of papers you were scribbling on. You wipe off your dripping wet forehead with the back of your arm.

The torrid sun is beating down hard on the ground and bodies alike.

This unforgiving heat left you no respite all day long, despite the fact that all you did was sit and take notes. Drenched in sweat, you fan yourself with your notepad. Perspiration keeps accumulating between the rolls of your stomach no matter how many times you dry it off. Today's the base annual testing day, an unofficial gathering meant to measure soldiers’ performance and entertain some friendly competition.

You would almost regret committing to helping today by playing scribes, but the sadistic satisfaction of seeing others toiling away while you twiddle your thumbs is enough to thwart that feeling. That, and Soap's little… display.

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head when you arrived this morning and stumbled upon him stretching his legs, bent over, fingers aiming for his feet, wearing the shortest, thighest shorts you've ever seen. Then he greeted you as if nothing was out of the ordinary. You glanced in interrogation at Gaz and Ghost, who were respectively wearing Bermudas and tracksuits, and were met with a shrug and an eye roll.

To make matters worse, he traded his blue shirt for a sleeveless top that did wonders for his arms and shoulders - as if his tanned biceps weren't already a work of art and a weapon of mass destruction all at once.

You don’t know which incubus possessed him to wear booty shorts, but you definitely aren't complaining.

You spend the day ogling him shamelessly, knowing he was putting on a show for you. He'd sponge down his glistening face with the bottom of his shirt, offering you a tantalizing view of his toned stomach. He'd throw dazzling smiles, teasing winks and blow kisses your way. At some point, he even emptied his water bottle on his head, resulting in his shirt turning transparent and sticking to his skin in an almost obscene way.

His myriad of attentions made you dizzy, in the best of ways. You may have made yourself look like a lovesick fool, with your blissfully happy smiles and your stupid giggles, but except for the people you were close with, no one would dare to nag you about it - lest a certain Scottish sergeant with a big mouth and no fear of confrontation gets all up in their face.

Strong, bronzed hands heavily lean on your desk. Palms are turned towards you, fingers gripping the table's edge.

“M ‘ere fer my penalty.”

The voice is raspy, accent thick, tone charming and teasing at the same time.

You slowly look up from your paper to meet Soap's cerulean eyes; along the way you can’t help but peek at his tanned arms, his bulging biceps, the beads of sweat rolling down his neck, the familiar chin scar in the middle of his dark stubble. His shirt is soaked with sweat.

He's wearing the grin he has every time he lays eyes on you; a blinding, earnest thing. However, even that beguiling smile cannot hide the spark of triumph and playfulness in his gaze.

Johnny's terribly competitive, that's an open secret. It's no surprise that today's tests would fire him up. The perpetual FNG has a title to defend, after all, and with you watching, the stakes are high despite the tests’ results bearing no influence on their file.

But that excitement wasn’t supposed to target you.

“A penalty?” you repeat, unconvinced, twirling your pen between your fingers. “You?”

Doubt infused with sarcasm seeps in your tone, very much on purpose. You raise a skeptical eyebrow, on your guard.

Your first instinct was to withdraw, prop yourself against the backrest, the distance between the two of you reduced to something too trivial to be proper, but you can’t back off from his implicit challenge. It's a well-crafted game with the two of you as its exclusive players. A dance of provocation and endearment, a mischievous yet comfortable back and forth.

The lack of privacy of it would usually discourage your bashful nature, who avoids confrontation at all costs. But the sergeant has figured out how to appeal to the competitive, driven part of you. So you stand your ground, brazenly, like you're the only two people in the world.

There is no way that Soap earned a penalty, no way that he lost. He's one of the best there is, if not the best - not that his ego needs the boost.

The SAS's youngest prodigue who beat all previous records, his name forever carved into the archives and his legend whispered among impressionable new recruits.

Not to mention that the way he said “my penalty” sounded more like “my prize” than anything else.

“‘ere. Proof.”

He hands out a piece of paper to you, a smug smirk not leaving his lips, one that is not without evoking the satisfied expression of the cat who got the cream. Your fingers brush his as you retrieve the “penalty receipt”, the contact feeling like flames licking your skin.

You take a break from defiantly holding his gaze to glance at the note. Its contents sends an ominous shiver down your spine, your eyes slightly widening in understanding.. and horror.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The odds were, what, one in hundreds? Amplified by the fact that Soap was the one to get ahold of it, out of all competitors.

You vainly stare at your own scrawl, as if that could make the ink vanish, but reality simply gazes back.

When asked to participate in making up a penalty, you wrote the silliest thing that came to mind, as a sort of inside joke only yourself would be privy to. Eight innocuous little words that would sign your downfall.

“Do fifty push-ups with me on their back”.

The fifty was an arbitrary pick between twenty that you judged too lenient, and a hundred that would take too long; however, you've thought a bit more about the “me on their back” part. You were heavier than the average soldier's rucksack - significantly so. It had to be a challenge, so you've made it this way.

Yet you never expected to actually end up on someone's back.

How Johnny managed to get his hands on your penalty out of all of them, you'd probably never find out, but you couldn’t deny that the “me” mentioned was you. Indeed, on top of your… recognizable handwriting, the note was adorned with little scribbles you had mindlessly doodled while bored. They were simple but easily identifiable: a foamy bar of soap, a deadpan skull, a jerrycan wearing a cap, and a stack of cash with a hat, or, put differently, the Task Force 141 stylized.

A version of the team that Soap was well-versed with, having witnessed you drawing it countless times.

There was no way out of the corner you were backed into - Soap put you on the spot, the brightest one possible, and that little shit knew it perfectly - did it on purpose.

You sigh exaggeratedly as you get up. You bypass your desk to stand in front of Johnny, not missing the way he looks you up and down. This is the first time he's seeing you in shorts, and despite how self-conscious you are about the girth of your chafing thighs, he makes it obvious how much he's enjoying the view. You cross your arms with an amused smile on your lips.

“You know you’re not supposed to enjoy your penalty, right? Kinda defeats the purpose.”

His smile mirrors yours as he bends over to whisper in your ear, close enough for you to feel his body heat, but not making a move to touch you.

“And ye do know I’d never let any of those eejits sweat and grunt under ye? That's my prerogative.”

Despite the shiver his gravelly voice sent down your spine,you throw your head back in laughter.

“Ooh so that's what this is! You're jealous.”

He remains unfazed by the accusation.

“Call it what ye want.”

“You do know I'm heavier than your rucksack, right? Much heavier? You’re going to hurt yourself.”

His eyes glint with hunger for challenge.

“Don't knock it til you've tried it.”

“Fine. Drop and give me twenty, pretty boy.”

His grin becomes blinding. He reaches behind to grab the back of his shirt and rips it off like it burned him.

You gape despite yourself in front of his glistening chest, all tanned skin, white scars, hard stomach and soft pecs, and he gently lifts your chin up with his index finger to close your mouth, an extremely smug smirk adorning his lips.

“Yes, Ma'am. Right away, Ma'am.”

From a stranger's perspective, his reply drips with an insolence that matches the cockiness he exhibited all day. But you know better; you can hear the underlying docility in his tone, the one he expresses when you two are intimate.

He keeps his eyes on yours as he kneels, the display way too lascivious for how public it is. You bite your lips, frowning your eyebrows in warning, but say nothing as he obeys and performs the twenty push-ups asked - on one arm. It is good that the position prevents him from staring at you, because you reckon otherwise he'd be giving you the slyest grin.

More than the impressive show of strength; more than the way his skin glows with sweat; more than the flaunting of his imposing muscles; the knowledge that he's undertaking it all for you is what tightens the band of arousal in your stomach, along with multiplying the bubbles of happiness and affection in your chest.

“Gonna take a seat, bonnie?”

He's forced to heckle you since you were so caught up in your staring that you forgot that the next part of the penalty required your participation.

And of course, he chose the cheekiest way to do so. The question, innocent at first glance, sent you back into the bedroom. The last time he asked you that was right before you sat on his face. And the time before that was when you rid him.

You oblige yourself to focus on the here and now, and carefully straddle Soap's back.

“Are you sure you can- Woh.”

He interrupts you by suddenly lowering and rising his body, obliging you to grab his shoulders to keep your balance, but easily demonstrating that the added weight has very little impact on his performance.

“Alright, alright, you convinced me,” you yield. “That's only one out of fifty, though.”

“And yet ye dare doubt me again,” he grumbles under his breath, initiating a steadfast pace.

It is a shame that your current position prevents you from watching his face, but you concentrate on other things instead. Never before did you have the opportunity to revel in the glorious vision that was his powerful back.

You tease him by periodically clenching your thighs without warning, squeezing the meat of his shoulders or ruffling the back of his drenched mohawk.

You let out an impressed whistle when he reaches fifty, before scrambling to liberate him. He pretends needing your help to stand up, and you give him your hands without hesitation. Once he's up, you affectionately shove his shirt into his naked torso, an implicit command to make himself proper.

Following his dressing, you two stare into each others' eyes, hands in hands, like lovebirds until his stomach roars like thunder.

You giggle; he sighs exaggeratedly, suddenly bowed down by an invisible weight, like he wasn’t overflowing with energy a minute ago.

“M starvin’. Tae death.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed.”

He starts walking towards the canteen's building, after a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and his eyes motionning between you and the coveted reserve of food in a silent but strong proposition. You purposely let him take the lead so you can sneak behind him and grab a generous handful of his ass.

He turns his head towards you with mock outrage on his face, a hand pressed on chest, quickly replaced by appreciation.

“Been itching to do that all day,” you confess with an impish smile.

Walking side by side, you start happily humming, and just as you let your hand drop, he seizes it and puts it back on his buttock.

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normal-thoughts-official · 2 months

Text

In the remote recesses of the world, north even to the great Maghreb, live a people with a weird and offputting cousine.

The French, as they're called, partake in the consumption of unique, and oftentimes alarming, ingredients, such as snails, frogs, fish eggs, and, on occasion, juice made of rotten grapes.

The most surprising part of this appalling cultural norm is that it is not, as no doubt thought our readers, the result of famine or lack of resources. Although mainly known for their violent culture, in which it is widely accepted to burn other people's cars, (and, before modern civilization made its way to the region, even take off helpless people's heads with a giant cleaver called the guillotine), the French also have access to rich resources often not exploited by the modern world. One such place is the Landes forest, home to the adorable rabbit, which recently has become a choice of pet for those leaning towards the exotic.

No, the French don't eat such slimy, questionable items out of necessity; it is by choice. As appalling as it may sound, they actually consider the foods derived from such ingredients to be high cuisine, and dishes containing them can be particularly expensive in the small region's economy.

With the blessing of my editor, and the guarantee that a medical team specializing in gastroenterology would be at the ready in case of an emergency, I agreed to travel to the faraway region to sample some of the so-called "delicacies". They were prepared by real, native Frenchs, although inspected by a health expert to make sure the hygienization was adequate. I've always been an adventurous eater, but even I must admit that the prospect filled me with aprehension. Would I be able to stomach the foreign dishes without getting sick, or worse, offending our arson-happy hosts?

My anxieties were initially heightened by the conversation with the French who hosted me; as is typical in their culture, he was offputting and rude, often commenting on the mistakes I made on the weird, twisting tongue I was doing my best to emulate. Still, in the spirit of cultural acceptance and not getting my head cut off, I accepted his socially inapt behavior with grace.

I must admit that the rotten grapes were what I was most curious about. The juice derived from them, known as wine, is considered a delicacy, and there are hundreds of different types of it. In French culture, there are even people whose entire job is to appoint the correct choice of wine to go with any given food; such men and women are caled sommeliers and held in high regard by French society.

I quickly learned that the making of wine is something of an art to the native Frenchs. As my self-important host dizzied me with endless descriptions of different wine varieties, I realized I may have gotten too deep into the turbulent waters of the unique region's palate. Out of the exhausting and oftentimes confusing technical detail, however, I was able to extract an important piece of information: the extent of the rot is important in the making of wine.

That's right, dear reader: they actually prefer it when the grapes are more rotten! Spanning not only decades, but sometimes whole centuries, the French's grapes are left to rot in humid wooden barrels - a tradition that's been kept alive since the Middle Ages -, becoming thoroughly ruined so that their juice may be extracted for the making of wine. And the longer they have been left decomposing with their local fungus, the more valuable the juice is.

I was simply too curious to wait. And even more delighted to find out about yet another culinary tradition I didn't know about: the social gatherings known as wine and cheese, in which wine is paired with a variety of solid, yellow, rubber-like wheels derived from fat extracted from cows' milk - the cheese.

Such unique, foul-smelling dishes are a frequent part of the everyman French's life, being consumed by rich and poor alike in a variety of different recipes from all sorts of French subregions. Among them, I found yet another that would delight my intellect and terrify my stomach: gorgonzola. To the reader not quite as deep in diving into the intricacies of French culture, I shall explain: gorgonzola is but a piece of the aforementioned cheese, left to mold.

I could not believe my ears. These people drank rotten grapes and paired them with rotten cow fat, and they enjoyed it. What to us would be a nightmare scenario in a case of extreme poverty, and a surefire way to earn a trip to the hospital, to them was a quite enjoyable meal.

I later learned that gorgonzola is actually from a neighboring nation close to the French - the Italians. Although officially considered a different tribe, Italians share much in common with the French, including the love for wine and cheese, a quite long border, and a language derived from the same roots - the long-dead Latin, ancient language in which their holy book, the "Bible", was once written.

I am happy to report that my experimentation did not lead to hospital trips, and the most I got was an unusually long carsickness. But I have taken with me much more than the curious experience: traveling to France has helped me expand my horizons, meet new people, and connect with cultures other than my own. Although violent and offputting, the French can be quite amorous, and I was even gifted a piece of cheese from a little girl. It is not an experience I would like to repeat anytime soon, but it's made for an interesting story that helped me grow as a writer, investigative journalist, and, most of all, eater.

I can only hope my stomach has taken some good lessons out of the experience, too.

Cremilda Castanho is a writer, cat-lover, and known foodie, with a knack for finding unexplored depths of cuisine across the world. Her book, What Weirdos Eat, was a Folha de São Paulo best seller, and paved the way for culinary exploration in journalism, earning her a Pulitzer prize.

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connorsblog · 3 months

Note

for the prompts, could you do “are you... wearing anything?” with rick? either male reader or gender neutral, whichever you feel like :)

˙✧˖° SHEETS 📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

a/n : thank you for the request lovely! also sorry for how short this was,,, i wrote this at 3am

pairing: rick grimes x male reader

warnings: reader has hangover, reference to nsfw, the usual !

as i woke up my head felt dizzy, my eyes reluctantly fluttering open. i stretched, my feet shaking as i did so. god that always felt so good.

soon after, i realized the other side of my bed had a weight on it.

looking over, i realized it was rick.

oh, that's why my head hurts.

now my blistering headache made perfect sense.

as i moved to wake him, my sheets wrapped around my leg. damn these comfortable ass sheets.

i maneuvered my legs for a few moments to escape from them, finally freeing my legs.

my head pulsed again as i swung my feet over the edge of the bed — finally realizing i was fully nude.

what the fuck?

i glance over to rick and he was too, his tan shoulders shining in the early morning sunlight.

i tried to nudge him awake again, but he didnt even move at all. he looked dead almost, but i was assured he wasn't by his dramatic sigh.

he's still just as dramatic when he's asleep, i guess.

after a few minutes of me spaced out — staring at his wall in front of me — he finally woke up.

i was faced away from him so i didn't register it until his voice rang out, that accent chipping my ears.

"are you... wearing anything?" was the first question.

"uh, no, actually. seems like you assisted me on that, rick," i let out a chuckle, which i regretted soon after because it made my head pulse.

he chuckled back, sitting up as i recently did. he flattened his curls, trying to tame the hair that seemed to be the only physical result of last night.

well, i was wrong. as he sat up, i saw a large purpling, yellowy mark on his neck. damn — when did i become a fucking werewolf? that thing was huge.

i realized about a half second later there were a few more littered down his muscled abdomen.

"do you remember what happened? last night, i mean," i decided to ask. i was curious, but i had an idea of what it could be.

"i mean.. do i have to say it?" he half-chuckled, looking me up and down for a split second.

"you worried what your pals are gonna say?" i teased. we've had sex before... but this seemed to be a little more intimate than the previous ones.

this time, he stayed in my bed. he didn't leave like he usually did — exiting quietly before dawn had erupted through the windows.

"no, not at all," he walked over to me, still nude (which... i was not complaining.) and planted a kiss on the top of my head.

i could barely feel it — but warmth tingled through my body as if i had.

#connorsblog #the walking dead #rick grimes #twd rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x male reader #x male reader

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counterintuitivecomics · 11 days

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Some colorized bits from my recent free printable zine WHY WE MASK: It's Not "Just A Cold"! I purposefully made the whole thing b&w to make printing as cheap as possible, but it's fun to add color especially to the snot-splosions.

HEY COMICS FRIENDS going to SPX or other cons this weekend - MASK UP, EAT OUTDOORS, and REST if you start feeling run down. COVID-19 levels are BAD bad right now (it's currently the worst September out of the whole pandemic) and the government does not have our backs. This virus causes YEARS worth of horrible vascular, neurological, and immune system damage, and each infection raises your chances of gaining fun new disabilities that could prevent you ever making comics again.

I strongly advice cancelling festivals, cons, indoor dining, anything involving crowds indoors OR outdoors, etc. But I know people depend on income from cons, so: PACK MASKS, NASAL SPRAY, and CPC MOUTHWASH and actually use them! If you develop any COVID-19 symptoms (headaches, dizziness, nausea, stomach pain, diarrhea, sore throat, sore joints, etc) don't assume it's "just a cold". Stay in your dang hotel room and REST! You can TRY to "push through" to keep tabling but you are NOT gonna like the long-term results (aka Long COVID).

I care about all you comics people and I want you to enjoy many more decades of making and sharing and reading comics with each other. If you're feeling sick at a show this weekend and don't know what to do, drop me a line! No judgements. Take care of yourself and each other out there and remember, no one can rest your body for you but you.

(Image Descriptions are in the Alt Text. Also please feel free to print my zine and hand it out if you do go)

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rashomonss · 9 months

Text

The Archives

a/n: so the results from my last post came in and since y’all are interested in my scrapped drabbles and headcanons I present to you all of them, hope you enjoy! all of this contains angst so be warned

the lost unfinished pieces

Untitled

original concept/ idea: I got barbatos’ RAD uniform in nightbringer and it suddenly made me think of this. This is with the bros and MC who just woke up from their coma thing that happened to them while in thirteens cave. This was supposed to feature more characters and be a bit longer but I never got around to it

You woke up to a familiar feeling plush bed and room, and upon closer inspection you found then realized it was yours.

You hadn’t been in your room much since going back to the past, but to be laying in your bed and in your pajamas nonetheless was enough to make you feel as if everything you’ve experienced for the last few grueling weeks was something striaght out of a bad dream.

You didn’t bother to check your surroundings, instead you fell out of bed and rushed out the door.

You had to see them. You had to make sure they still remembered you.

You had to hear them say “I love you” again.

That’s the only thing that was pushing your tired body down the hall. It didn’t matter if you were too dizzy to walk, you had to hear them say they loved you.

You searched and searched but couldn’t find a single demon, that was until you heard noise coming from the living room.

So you rushed into the room eagerly waiting to see your beloved demons, and there they were, laughing, talking, reading, sleeping, and all.

You knew it was them, you were certain, after all no one else wears their RAD uniforms in such a manner.

You ran over to Lucifer and threw most of your weight on the poor demon, if he hadn’t sensed you, you might’ve actually startled him.

You clung onto the back of his uniform and fell to the floor crying. The first born along with all the others turned around worried as to why you suddenly broke down crying, much less after clinging onto Lucifer.

Lucifer grabbed your face and made you look up at him. He wore a worried expression and looked over your face puzzled. “MC what’s-“

You cut him off and enveloped him in a hug continuing to sob even more. After a few moments you then let go and broke down in front of him.

“I’ve missed you all so much, you won’t believe the torture I had to go through it was horrible, all of you didn’t remember me, as a matter of fact we hadn’t even met yet.”

“I had to listen to all of you call me an attendant and boss me around, and you were even rude to me again and said I wasn’t part of the family. I know you were just trying to protect your brothers, but it still hurt. Plus I had to go through each day without being able to tell any of you I loved you and that I was there for you.

Because if I did you all would then look at me as if I was crazy.

Instead you all acted like you didn’t like me and complained when I didn’t fix a problem. And Diavolo threatened to send me back to the human world, even Luke was rude to me at the beginning”

“I couldn’t hold you all or kiss you all or even recall memories of us together. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to say I love you, to each of you again” you cried out.

Each brother looked at the other surprised as you continued to babble to Lucifer about things they didn’t understand, the oldest even looked shocked and didn’t know what to do with you.

“MC!” a voice then shouted from behind you.

As you turned to hear who the voice belonged to, you found yourself being pulled away from Lucifer and into Solomon's arms harshly. The Avatar of Pride then glared at the sorcerer who returned his look with a menacing smile.

“Why didn’t you say anything about MC being awake? How long have they been awake?” Solomon said inspecting your body.

“Solomon let me go, I wasn’t finished talking” you yelled struggling in his grasp. “And why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” He asked, puzzled.

“That we’re back home” you replied trying to free yourself to reach your demons.

Solomon’s face dropped and he looked down at you then to the brothers who were also equally confused.

“MC I would refrain from saying anything else…” he then said quietly in your ear.

“Why’s that”

“Because this is still the past.”

Your heart dropped and your eyes widened in shock as you slowly began to face the sorcerer with a look of despair.

“But their RAD uniforms…” you said, gesturing to the seven demons in front of you.

“These are the final designs for the uniform and Diavolo asked if we could try them on today since they just got delivered,” Lucifer replied.

“Is everything alright MC?” Mammon questioned.

All you could do was stare at them with an unreadable expression and then walk away with Solomon without another word.

Your Cherished Mark

original idea: this was supposed to feature all the brothers, but Mammon is the only one I was able to think of, then I just gave up lol

You were busy trying to stop Mammon and Levi from fighting about something to do with respect again. Honestly that's all they ever fought about, and each time their words stung deeper than the last. It hurt to hear so you would ignore it, that was until the fights became physical. Then and only then would you have to break it up.

The yelling became more tense between the two as they got in each others faces. So yelling a simple "stay" was directed towards the two demons. However after a second or two of struggling Mammon was able to move and began to yell at Levi again.

Sighing you pushed him out into the hall hoping to calm him down with a few words.

"Mammon enough with the fighting. You're being loud and disturbing everyone inside." You pressed.

Mammon rolled his eyes and looked at you. "He started it! Why am I the one getting punished huh?"

"I'm not punishing you, l'm just trying to talk to you.”

"Listen MC. It's nice you're tryna help and all but this is between Levi and I. You wouldn't understand.” Mammon said, before walking off.

"Mammon" you said softly as he left down the hallway, quite grumpy.

An ache in your chest made you clench it through your shirt. Then something caught your attention, Mammon was able to break free when you used a command.

It couldn't be...not now…

Not this soon.

Running to the nearest bathroom you ignored Asmo and Beel as they said hello and threw open the door, then locked it.

Throwing off your shirt you looked to the area right above your heart and stared at the bare skin.

There was no emblem, no small mark, no slightly darker symbol. There was nothing, nothing at all.

It was gone.

Mammon's pact mark was gone.

“There's no way," you said, disbelief filling your voice.

You felt the skin for something, anything, hoping this was just some sick dream. You even tried activating the mark by trying to summon him, but nothing worked.

Because nothing was there.

The pact you had with Mammon was gone. The very first pact you made coming to the Devildom was now gone.

The only source of connection you had to your first man was now severed.

And no amount of clawing or scratching or even bleeding would bring that mark back.

However you tried. You cried and sobbed as you tried to feel for the missing mark. Soon after failed attempts to find it you fell to your knees and held that area, praying that this wasn't true.

Outside the bathroom Asmo and Beel stood looking at each other with a worried expression.

What could have possibly made you so upset?

Somewhere at a much different time a blood curdling wail rang out in the House of Lamentation.

Six demons rushed to the room of the demon in question only to find a trashed room, a broken mirror and the second born livid beyond belief as he clutched his chest.

The six demons unconsciously placed a hand over their beloved mark wondering if they’d be next.

A Family Without You

original concept/ idea: supposed to be much longer with comfort provided at the end but I was too upset at him to finish it lmao

“That’s between my brothers and I. Don’t stick your nose into our business just because you happen to be curious.”

Your face froze and you felt your heart drop. He didn’t mention you?

Of course why would he? Lucifer didn’t consider you family, you were just a demon attendant that was there to help them, and most of the time he thought you to be a bother. So for a demon such as you to stick their nose into his brother's business when you’ve barely even known them would set off a red flag in Lucifer’s head.

“We’ve only just met, why are you so insistent on involving yourself in our lives? Don’t tell me it’s because you find us intriguing since we used to be angles” He stated.

“No, I’ve told you already I just want to help you all, you’re important to me, I really don’t have any ulterior motives”

“Enough, I don’t want to hear it. Just head back to Cocytus Hall.

“You know what fine I will, but don’t bother coming to me for assistance when one of your brothers gets hurt down here.” You said slamming the door.

Readjusting Continued

original concept/ idea: this was supposed to be a continuation of it in a long format but I scrapped it after I got an ask with my exact thoughts

Readjusting to life with the brothers was easier said than done.

You tried your hardest to open up your heart as well as your mind to them after coming back to the present. And of course you loved them just like you used to, however something was different now.

There was this wall between you and them that they couldn’t seem to break no matter how hard each of them tried. Sure you were happy and sure you claimed to love them, but it wasn’t the same, you weren’t the same.

“The past changes everyone” is what Solomon had told them.

“Just give them time, I’m sure they’ll come around”

Easy enough for him to say, each brother thought. Solomon was the only one MC would act at ease with. They even went so far as requesting to move in with him and the angles at Purgatory Hall.

Diavolo was still considering your request of moving much to the brothers dismay, but they chose to go with whatever decision you felt most comfortable with, even if they didn’t agree with it. They found themselves not agreeing with many things you did nowadays. For example the fact that you micromanaged most of their activities and tasks throughout the day freaked them out.

You had kept a schedule of what they were supposed to complete along with completing your own work per usual. Oftentimes you offered to even do, or help Lucifer with work you knew he couldn’t finish on his own. It was nice to have a helping hand at first he thought, however after the third or fourth stack of documents he found it worrisome that you were able to complete that many in a short amount of time. Something he even found tiring to do alone.

Untitled

original concept/ idea: I’m a sucker for MC being distant when they return from the past and the bros being so pissed off about it, I never finished this because I was waisted when i wrote it

It hurt.

It hurt his pride, when Lucifer didn't receive the same amount of pampering and attention he had been used to.

It also hurt when you didn't offer to spend every late night moment you could with him. He wished to go back to your nightly talks in his office while you supported him through piles and piles of paperwork.

He wished to be the center of your attention at large galas and balls again; since he had always been the first one you talked to or danced with.

After not seeing you for such a long time he longed for the same version of you that left that day. Yet that version was nowhere to be found.

The human that had disappeared that dreadful day had come back entirely different.

Not once did he ever blame you for that though.

Instead it was all Solomon's fault.

That sorcerer captured your attention the way he used to, the loving words of encouragement that always were meant for him changed directions and were meant for another. Hearing you speak so boldly of him damaged his pride greatly.

It also hurt like hell when Mammon couldn't pull you away from a conversation with someone like he used to.

In the past you'd follow him without question because the two of you had always been inseparable. Well that was part of it, you always had a bit of a soft side for your first man.

Sometimes it was hard denying him.

But this time was different. He didn't know how to process that slightly annoyed glare you shot him when he tried pulling you away from the witty sorcerer.

Of course he was used to your looks from time to time but this was completely different. You genuinely didn't want to talk to him at the moment.

He had become second to someone for the first time.

Which greatly pissed him off. He was your first, but you weren't acting like it.

However what had really broken him and his ego was when you claimed that him being your first man was just a little joke. After hearing that come out of your mouth he couldn't help but quietly wait to the side until you finished talking to Solomon.

Levi couldn't stand the thought or even the sight of the way you laughed with Solomon.

You had laughed with him like that sure, but your laugh just wasn't the same. Your laugh brought butterflies to his stomach like usual, but did his do the same for yours?

Levi watched the way you gazed as Solomon would go on rants about new spells or potential potions he wanted to try, and admits that he couldn't help but wonder. Did you gaze at him like that when he talked about a new anime or a new game that had just come out?

Then it dawned on him, you did. That look had been reserved for him, and only him. Your wonderful gaze that always watched closely and listened to what he said even when no one else would. That look he loved seeing on your face so much was now reserved for someone else.

His jealousy ran to his core. He couldn't stand sight of the two of you, so much so he decided to avoid you for a while.

But what really pushed him over the edge was the fact that you didn't even notice him distancing himself.

It really pissed off Satan when you didn't go to him for any sort of help.

You needed help reviewing something for a class?

He would offer, but you'd politely decline, then follow up by explaining how Solomon already offered to help you.

He was your study buddy. This was established, it was just the way things were done with you.

But apparently that's not the case anymore.

After coming back you claimed to not need his help mainly because you didn't want to bother him.

But was that really the case?

You were never a bother to him.

He enjoyed those moments with you while you seemed to now enjoy them with Solomon in the exact same spot Satan would tutor you in the library.

When he walked in the library the sight of you two talking and laughing had caught his attention. In a fit of rage and hated he destroyed a wall.

It wasn't fair.

It just wasn't fair at all.

Asmo was much better looking. His sense of style was always something everyone wanted to obtain but couldn't. His hair, face, and accessories always made him stand out above others. Mainly because he was just simply better. He was constantly sought after daily.

But even with all the love he had received there was only one type of love that had mattered to him. And it was the actual true love you showed him when you first arrived.

So why was he having such a hard time trying to get that same love now?

There he was absolutely dazzling yet your gaze was fixed on the sorcerers messy bed hair he got from passing out on his desk for the third time in a row.

You smiled and fixed Solomon's hair as he thanked you, all while Asmo had been trying to get your attention for the past two minutes.

Solomon knew what he was doing.

Asmo knew that's much. After all he knows him better than anyone.

Untitled

original concept/ idea: so I know so many people write about how the brothers would love MC’s “demon form” in Nightbringer. However what would happen if when you return from the past in that same form instead of loving it they actually hate it, mainly because they knew personally how hard it was to adjust to that form. So to see you in it brings back unsettling memories.

You had never thought much about the horns (that were almost identical to that of a ram), that rested on your head, or the wings or tail that decorated your back.

It was all just for show after all.

You conjured them with magic for your survival in the past. Besides, you needed others to believe you were a demon one way of another, so as they say 'when in Rome do as the Romans do.

Even if the brothers and the others knew you were human Diavolo still suggested you stay disguised due to many demons not knowing, and for your own safety, which of course you agreed.

So in return you became used to looking at this demon version of yourself in the mirror everyday.

It didn't take much magic to change your appearance so you would unconsciously have your horns and other accessories on at all times.

This was the norm.

They were used to seeing you in this attire everyday, so why are they freaking out now..?

Why are they giving you shocked expressions and whispering to themselves?

You hated it.

They did too.

All of them couldn't contain their excitement when Solomon informed them that you were ready to return to the present again. You were finally ready to return to where you belong.

Each of them waited as Solomon appeared after a second, and then finally you appeared as well.

As your figure glowed they made out your human silhouette and sighed with relief, but as the rest of you began to form they soon saw horns and other things adorn your back.

When you finally appeared in front of them they were at a loss for words.

Your hair was worn in a different fashion than they were used to seeing, it looked more formal. Your attire was also different, much different.

You fit right in at the Devildom with your outfit.

Next was your horns.

When did you get horns..? They each questioned

And lastly were the things that adorned your back.

If they had to assume, this was your demon form?

But why would human such as yourself need to take a form like this?

The Curse Of Living With The Sins

original concept/ idea: living with demons you love is something most would dream of. However one thing that is never shown is the side of them that truly embodies their sin. Like the title suggests it was supposed to feature all the brothers but I could only think of Lucifer and Beel

It's hard to reason with the Avatar of Pride at times because of course, his pride gets in the way of things.

Arguments between him and his siblings aren't usually serious, however if Lucifer has had a particularly bad day then he will be unbearable to reason with.

So if Satan and Belphegor were to upset him via prank or if Mammon received another letter from a bank he would get ready to punish everyone. Sometimes the others don't even deserve it, Lucifer just finds himself needing to take his anger out on others.

Mainly you.

He’s never wrong in his eyes. How could someone so perfect such as him be wrong against a human.

He made sure to remind you of that if push came to shove.

Often times during the night it's been harder to get a good nights sleep due to the kitchen being raided by the Avatar of Gluttony.

And with your room being right behind the kitchen it's not so easy to ignore. The sound of opening and closing doors and cabinets can be heard along with the ripping of new cardboard boxes. Beel himself doesn't realize how loud he is until you walk in the kitchen rubbing your eyes.

"Are you hungry too MC? There's still some food in the fridge if you want to share" he responds smiling at you. A cute gesture really but you'd be more appreciative if he just went to bed.

"Beel it's late please go to sleep before you wake anyone else up. Also if you continue to clear out the fridge Satan and Lucifer are sure to get on you about that tomorrow morning"

Reluctantly Beel sighs and finishes eating the last of whatever leftovers were in the fridge.

Then with your guidance walks back to his room for bed.

Finally making it to your own room after cleaning up the mess in the kitchen you are able to lay down comfortably in your own bed. Soon a wave of tiredness washes over you and you find yourself right on the brink of sleep, that is until you hear the fridge door open and shut.

"Damn it Beel" you curse, now sitting up wide awake. Looks like it's going to be another one of those nights, you think opening your door ready to head back to the kitchen.

Forgetfulness

original concept/ idea: MC isn’t feeling well so they mistake nightbringer satan for their satan

Maybe it was the food Solomon cooked, or possibly all the liquor you had consumed but your head wasn’t in the right place at the moment. What made things even more difficult for you was the fact that Lucifer had called you over to the House of Lamentation because his brothers were causing a ruckus again.

The walk there was horrific on your end. You felt sick and had a major headache. However that never stopped you before, so like always you carried on and made it.

Upon your arrival you saw a few of them destroying the living room, which you put a stop to right away. Sighing, you made them clean up the house and watched as Lucifer scolded them as well.

After everything was done you ended up passing out on the couch in the living room for a couple of hours.

Maybe it was due to the fact that you were placed in a comfortable position when you woke up, or maybe it was the fact that one of Belphie’s favorite blankets was draped over you.

Whatever the case was, you woke up feeling at home.

It took you a minute, but you managed to get up and take the blanket with you to one of the quietest rooms in the house.

You knocked softly once but there was no answer, after the second time you could finally hear shuffling from the other side as the demon made his way towards the door.

Muffled words that sounded quite annoyed could be heard as the door unlocked and opened to reveal the fourth oldest.

“Lucifer if you’re here to nag-…oh…um hello MC” He said slightly confused but somewhat sweet nonetheless. You should’ve paid more attention to his tone before.

You nodded and pushed past him, soon flopping down onto his bed and making a comfortable spot for yourself in his blankets, while Belphie’s blanket got mixed with the rest.

The blond shot you a confused look that you paid no attention to. Once you had finally found a comfortable spot you looked at him and motioned for him to join you, which in turn made Satan greatly surprised. He reluctantly took a seat on the edge of the bed gazing down at you.

“I’ve always loved how comfortable your pillows were,” you said softly after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

Satan watched you quietly in response. This was the first time you had laid in his bed with him knowing, so he was slightly confused as to what you were talking about. It took him time to formulate a response but when he finally did you had long fallen asleep wrapped up in his blankets.

Sighing Satan left you and walked over to his favorite chair and resumed the current book he was reading. Not too long after you had woken up again, much to his surprise.

“What are you reading?” You yawned, rolling over to face him.

“Well it’s called…” before he could even say the name you smiled at the cover. That was the first book in his collection he lent you. It was one of his favorites too, and to be frank it’s what made the two of you so close.

If he hadn’t lent you that book then you wouldn’t have picked up reading discussions with him. Thanks to that the current book he was reading had become one of your favorites.

“I can’t believe you’re reading it again, what’s this now the thirtieth time you’ve read it? I don’t blame you though, I love that book” you replied, giving him a tired smile.

His brows quirked up in confusion. This was the first time he had read this book, however you were saying he had already read it, more than once at that. What was more surprising was the fact that the book had just been published last week. However he said nothing on the matter and gave you a short reply.

You opened your eyes and saw the fourth born laying beside you underneath the blankets. His breathing was soft and he looked so peaceful as his hand held yours.

You moved closer towards him and smiled softly as you placed a kiss on his cheek. Soon after he began to stir and quickly woke up, smiling back at you.

“Good morning” you replied, placing a kiss on his lips. A gesture like this was normal for you both. Whenever you slept with him either one of you would wake the other with a kiss.

But to your surprise he didn’t return the gesture. Instead Satan quickly sat up looking surprised, and flustered. You could tell the blond was trying his best to keep calm.

You furrowed your brows for a second before it dawned on you. This in fact was Satan, but this was not your Satan.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you” you said sitting up as well, trying your best to cover up your embarrassment.

“It’s fine. I was just surprised you kissed me is all” Satan replied after clearing his throat.

“I didn’t mean to. It’s just…” you began to say.

“Just…?” The blonde asked, waiting to hear your answer.

“Forget it, it's not important.” You said, giving him a small smile.

Satan watched you with concern but sighed not wanting to press the topic further. However a question did pop into his head not long after.

That’s all for now! Thanks for reading

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me angst #obey me nightbringer #obey me nightbringer angst #obey me nb #demon brothers #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon

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sexyandcringe · 3 months

Text

Hopeless romantic

Part 3 ◇ Part 4

Warnings: cheating (not by reader or osamu), mommy issues and generally parents issues. Reader thinks she is unlovable (she just like me fr.)

Content: osamu x reader, Angst to fluff, hurt/comfort.

A/n: This is the end y'all! I wanted to make it longer but i know myself and i would just leave it unfinished at some point, so i thought this might be a good "ending", but good news! I'll still write some drabbles and snippets about yn and osamu's lives in this AU! like their first times and shit. idk, i'll see. I'm sorry if this disappoints you, I don't care.

Osamu thinks that everything in your house screams of you.

It’s not his first time in your home, but the vibrant hues and light shades remind him of your joyful personality; the white marble floor completes the water green and pink of your walls. Some canvases are hanging in the living room and a knowing smile forms on his lips as he recognizes your touch in a few of them. The colours and the delicate strokes all bear your signature, a reflection of everything that is you.

He wanders his eyes around, noticing details he didn’t notice in the past and taking in everything he can.

“Pasta with yogurt is delicious.”

Osamu looks horrified at your statement. He thought you were perfect in all shapes and forms, never had he ever expected you to come up with such a daring, unacceptable, banned-from-his-restaurant-worthy comment.

“This is it. I’m leaving.” he declares, rising abruptly from the table, as if ready to sever all hia ties with you and your questionable taste in food.

Your laughter fills the room before you grab his arms and your hand grips his shoulder, “I’m just joking!! Please!” you plead.

“No, you are not.”

Resigned, you raise your hands in surrender, “Okay, I’m not. but it’s actually good! You can’t judge anything until you try it!”

He only scoffs and sinks back into his seat, his attention on the Zucchini Lasagna with Zucchini “Ricotta” that you both made together. It was easier than you expected, and despite your protests, Osamu refused your assistance in any way, insisting that you simply observe and learn.

The way his hands work in the kitchen left you in awe, and also a little flustered. Who wouldn’t be after seeing those healthy, strong arms of his being put to work?

The final strike was his calm, soft voice, effortlessly explaining everything you didn’t know without making you feel foolish. His tone was void of any patronization and he remained kind and understanding even when you asked questions that might seem obvious to others in the culinary world.

When the result of your (his) hard work was ready, it was late enough that you asked him to stay and dine with you, not wanting to let go of him yet.

(You never want to let go of him.)

“I don’t need to try it to understand that it will taste awful.”

“Never judge a book by its cover, Miya.” you retort playfully, adopting the guise of a wise sage.

Though he doesn't voice it, Osamu hates being called Miya by you.

“You know what- leave it,” he grumbles. His scrunched-up face from the irritation he felt earlier relaxes when he takes a big bite of his dinner and you can’t stop the grin that makes its way onto your lips. Such a goofball he is.

Both of you finish your plates in silence and silence has never been so comfortable, if not with him.

In the past, you always felt like a fish out of water, you knew you were different but not the “cool and edgy” kind, no, you were just straight-up weird, and you believed that most of your friendships and relationships with others did not work out because of this.

Over time, you worked on yourself, learnt to talk to people in socially acceptable manners, and learnt to keep your mouth shut when you had to; Sometimes, your thoughts still race ahead of your words, leaving you dizzy, but you’ve made progress. You’re doing much better now than your younger self, and that is enough.

Osamu never makes you feel different.

He has always been kind and understanding, even on days when you felt like you didn’t deserve it. Even that day, when you were just a stranger soaked with rain, seeking shelter and comfort in his shop.

It was a cloudy day and you were exhausted from work. Darkness dwelled in the sky when your world shattered again.

It was late evening when your parents called, and of course, it ended up in a fight with no end.

You hated it.

You missed them, every once in a while, but you couldn’t stand being around them.

You always had a tricky relationship with your mother, a paradox where you wished her well while hurting her because she hurt you. You loved her and cared for her while wanting to run away from her and never see her again.

(maybe you only loved the mother you hoped she would be.)

To make matters worse, your boyfriend wasn’t answering his phone. You needed him - needed his hugs and kisses and a silly movie to escape reality.

And when he didn’t reply to yet another call, you decided to go to his house in hopes of finding him, but when you got to the main gate of his building, your heart stopped.

You had your fair share of heartbreaks, but at the age of 24, you weren’t one to play around with idiots who can’t have a stable and serious relationship. Your boyfriend seemed perfect initially, he was everything you thought you couldn’t find and the first two months were like a dream. Then, the reality slapped you hard and you saw the imperfections in your relationship: he never called, never let you see his phone (not like you ever asked, privacy is important to you, but when he takes away his phone even just to go to the bathroom, or when he snatches his phone from you when you use just to make some silly selfies, it makes you feel like he might be exaggerating a tad bit.), and most of all, he didn’t want you to meet his friends yet.

You thought he might be just shy, maybe his friends weren’t your type of people, maybe he had been discussing a surprise for you so that’s why he wouldn’t let you see his phone. You found justification in everything because really, you liked him.

Maybe that’s why when you saw your boyfriend of 8 months making out with the barista “you didn’t need to worry about.”, you felt like hundreds of thousands of needles were ripping your skin apart and just then, as if the clouds could feel your pain, they started to mourn, pouring heavy rain on your head, screaming at the top of their lungs and letting all their suffering pour down as if taking revenge of everything the humans have done to Earth.

At first, you felt numb, a numbness that comes from not believing what you are seeing, then started the loud thumping of your heart, making your bones tremble in despair, and your breathing became unbalanced, stuttering through your mouth; and worst of all, you were in the middle of the streets and the rain was growing faster and louder.

(but nothing was louder than the scream you let out inside your head.)

With heavy and slow steps, you walked away, oblivious to the water dripping down your temples, feeling utterly lost.

You didn’t know where to go. Your house was just a hellhole of everything that would remind you of him. You wanted to run away, and that’s what you did.

You ran until your lungs burned, until your legs ached, and the rain drenched you completely.

You were hungry and thirsty and cold and heartbroken and so fucking lost and-

A light.

A warm, inviting light accompanied by soft hums and melodies gets your attention.

From the tables inside the structure, you suspect it to be a restaurant, or perhaps a fast food, you don’t know. All you knew was that you needed warmth and a seat, so you pushed the doors open.

“Sorry, we are close-” A man looks your way, holding a dirty cloth and detergent. He must have been cleaning.

Your eyes widen, a little panicked, because you had no idea it was so late and when you look down-

oh god, you just walked into a closed restaurant, and you are soaked and you dirtied his floor all over again, he is so going to berate you and kick you out-

“Nevermind. Come in.” his voice sounds gentle, kind even; you wonder why he hasn’t screamed at you yet. You just ruined his floor, didn’t you?

He pulls a chair back and waits for you to sit, you oblige in silence, though a little hesitant, “Wait here, I’ll be back.” is all he says before disappearing from your sight.

While you stare at the texture of the tables and tiles, the events of the day come back rushing to your mind, the fight with your parents, the dead cat you found on the streets and your boyfriend cheating on you. Everything was a mess, and you felt so lonely. There was a tight knot in your chest, a heavy weight of unshed tears, and it became heavier with each passing second.

A plate comes into your view with hot rolled spaghetti seasoned with tomato puree and basil and you can’t stop the grumbling of your stomach at the sight of such delicacy.

Your face heats up as you hear a small laugh from the man standing next to you; you opt to hide your embarrassment by eating everything that was laid in front of you. You take a bite of the hot strands, swirling your fork in all the wrong ways (when have you ever done something right?), and the taste fills your mouth, cascading in your stomach and the tight knot between your lungs comes undone, your eyes get blurry and tears start to flow freely down your cheeks.

Fuck, you really did not want to cry now, but you can’t stop it. You sob and hiccup and keep eating all the same, while the cook stands next to you in silence.

The kindness of a stranger and the cruelty of your beloved crashed down on you like a tsunami and all you could do was eat and cry. Miserable, you thought to yourself.

Later, a hand came down your head, a soft pat accompanied by a low, comforting voice, “It’s going to be okay.” it said, and you believed it.

“Yachi was asking about you, y’know. Tsumoto, too. They said they missed your yapping.”

You gasp, feigning a shocked expression. “Hey! It’s called ‘having a conversation’!”

He snorts, “Sure, if that’s what helps you sleep at night.” Osamu collects the empty plates from the table and helps you clean up the kitchen.

You huff as he dries the dishes you wash, his taunting endless. When you glance at the clock, it’s already around 10 pm, and you wonder if you took too much of his time. Someone like him should never waste his time over someone like you.

“By the way, Aika gifted me two tickets to the opening of the “Fishy and Cheesy Aquarium” near the bridge because she can’t make it.” he says after a while.

You sputter out your drink, laughing at the ridiculous name.

“What the fuck is that name?!” you try not to snort like an ugly pig in front of him (you fail.) He just shrugs. “Also who’s Aika?”.

“Oh? I thought you met her! Remember the girl with long black hair and green eyes who entered my restaurant a few weeks ago? She’s Rintarou’s sister, but since me and ‘Tsumu have known Rin since we were toddlers, she’s like a sister to us, too.” a fond smile takes place on his lips, a smile that he rarely gives to clients, a smile reserved for family.

All the pieces fall into place in your head, and somehow you feel relief and joy and you curse yourself for feeling that way. You shouldn’t be allowed to feel happy now, but you are, and your heart’s already thumping out of your chest when he says his next words:

“So, I was saying, since ‘Tsumu is away for two weeks and Rin just hates crowded places with too many kids, would you like to go there with me?”

And of course, you say yes before your brain can even comprehend what he’s asking of you.

You are quite sure he is just asking you out as friends do, but what can you say? you are a hopeless romantic, after all.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

Tags: @lees-chaotic-brain @writingsofanomnivore @pressuredtreasure @k4sumis0u

#haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu comfort #osamu miya comfort #osamu comfort #osamu angst #haikyuu angst #i love him sm

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little-pondhead · 1 year

Text

DPxDC Prompt:

[this is a long one please forgive me]

Bruce lied to the others about his trip through time. Not all of it! Just…one specific thing.

During the early parts of his timeline hijinks, before Tim realized Bruce was still alive, he had a bit of a respite in between his endless time jumps. (Maybe a certain ghost was helping him out.) With a fuzzy memory at best and a strange itch to investigate the unknown, Bruce had been taken in by an old couple who had no kids but wanted to pass on the family name. And who better than a thirty-something amnesiac stranger who could actually be related by blood?

Bruce, with nowhere to go, accepted his new name, grew out his hair, and quickly got accepted into college for engineering. There, he met two of his closest friends; a redheaded woman who could kick his ass and a wet chicken of a man who could also kick his ass. They both made him nostalgic for something he didn’t remember, and that made him sad sometimes, but the two were always there to cheer him up.

Years passed, and Bruce’s life moved on. He settled well into his new name, mourned his parents when the eventually passed, celebrated his wedding with the redhead, and grieved when the last of their trio fell out of touch. He had a daughter, and then a son! They were both so smart, even if they didn’t share the same passion he had for exploring the science behind the afterlife. (Something about the dead just itched his brain in an infuriating way, and Bruce wasn’t one to let sleeping dogs lie. He just had to find out why he was so obsessed with this stuff!)

Eventually, his and his wife’s research yielded results, and that’s when bits of Bruce’s former life started coming back to him. After the portal opened, he spent his days with his head in a fog, oblivious to the world around him as he struggled to continue his work.

Why did he remember a boy named Dick? Who would name their child that? And Jason…who was Jason? That name always made him sad. There were more names, more faces, but none of them were his. He could never remember what his name was supposed to be. All he had was the one his adoptive parents gave him.

His wife was worried. His daughter was struggling. And his son…his son sometimes hurt to look at. Bruce didn’t know why. He knew he was being a terrible father, but something in him wanted to cry whenever he gazed at those clear blue eyes, just like his own. His son was too smart for his own good, and realized his dad had started avoiding him.

The day his son purposely left the room so Bruce could relax was one that hurt him even now.

Time kept passing, and Bruce was becoming anxious. His brain fog was as bad as its ever been. He had constant headaches, and his hands kept twitching for nonexistent tools on his belt. Something was going to happen. Something had happened. A voice in his head told him it was all his fault.

So in an attempt to clear his head and spend more time with his family, Bruce insisted they all go to dinner at the local diner. His son invited his friends. Even better! More people meant more distractions from his messed-up thoughts. He wouldn’t spiral with the kids around.

And then something exploded.

The last thing Bruce remembered was his son’s (green??) eyes widening in fear and horror as something yanked him violently backwards. He fell farther than expected, through a portal and a green sky full of black stars. A hand tightened on the back of his jumpsuit, hauling his giant body through another portal with a roar of a motorcycle.

And then…and then…and then what?

All of a sudden, Bruce was sprawled in some mud in the middle of a forest, dizzy and coughing from the explosion’s fumes. He’s singed all over, and his ears still rang from the force of the…what happened again?

Bruce sits up, and all of a sudden, he’s in the era of the pilgrims. His memory has been wiped clean, his new name and family forgotten thanks to the hands of time. His adventures through the time stream continue, with him assuming many different identities throughout many different decades.

The memories of being Jack Fenton don’t return to him until he’s back in 2004, once again in his own time and living as Bruce Wayne. A glowing green sticky note informs him that “The Nasty Burger Incident” had just occurred. His “other self” just had his ass dragged to another era, so the time loop would continue.

It also informed him that he had an orphaned son crying for him at Bruce’s own grave.

Well, his forgotten son (that sounded bad, even to him) was supposed to be about fourteen now, right? Bruce hopes he doesn’t have to fight anyone for custody.

#pondhead blurbs #danny phantom #dpxdc #writing prompt #‘Alfred get the Guy’#‘you haven’t even left the house today’#‘my dad senses are tingling and I may need to fistfight another billionaire so have the Other Guy on standby as well’#Bruce becomes Jack Fenton #he went to college and literally built a life for himself at the same time ‘Bruce Wayne’ existed #‘Jack’ just never watched the news #clockwork had to make sure Danny existed so guess what! you’re the son of the bat happy birthday #the nasty burger incident happens but in the two seconds it took to kill everyone #Johnny 13 dragged his ass to another era #he was ordered to by clockwork #I have zero clue how old Bruce was during his timeline shenanigans and idk when it took place either #just work with me on this #please I am begging you #he only got his memories back when the time matches up with Jack Fenton’s ‘death’#Danny loses his dad and then gets him back in the span of 24 hours but now his dad is a billionaire??#well he gets to watch Bruce fistfight Vlad for custody and then stop him from killing clockwork #cause how DARE Clockwork just make him FORGET an entire family he had???#morally grey clockwork #Danny is trying really hard not to become Dan and Bruce is trying really hard to explain this to his other kids #‘no this one is ACTUALLY mine’#‘yes I know I was a teen in Europe when the wedding would have happened’#again don’t know the dc timeline just work with me here #please don’t ask me to continue this I will cry #if someone else does I’d be happy to read it though :))

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adambja · 1 year

Text

You asked for my void success story? And my void journey? well I am sharing it bestie!!

But again I won't share any personal stuff some people here are obsessive pls lmao

I typed it when I was on the discord server because someone who is in my experiment asked me so I answered and I asked myself like why not sharing it here after all that time and all these things I am doing (coaching - the experiment - more....) and I am so excited to share the results of my experiment after exactly 6 days and actually 2 people joined the experiment but they were late!

So.....

• let's begin with my void journey!

Okay basically I am sure no one actually knows this except for like 3 people on Tumblr and like 20 people in my experiment (cuz they asked me) my life before entering was actually great I already had everything I wanted my mom and dad are literally my role models and my self-concept was perfect and I am not saying it as an affirmation it's just me and I was always finding something from time to time related to the void state and I worked more on my self-concept using my tape I made it in early - mid 2022 (actually the same tape I sell now) then I started collecting information about the void from literally everywhere back in late 2022 then I started applying in early 2023 I entered in January but didn't really plan to manifest anything because I had the same manifesting abilities in my daily life then I thought about it more than once so I made a list full of everything I can think of at that time and I entered in early 2023 again

• How I entered?

It was just normal i was in the USA specifically NY at that time I was listening to my self-concept tape it was almost 10pm and I felt like I will actually enter today and manifest everything I wasn't even planning to do it but I knew I will experience it's just a feeling I felt at that time and I was feeling a lot of love at that time too so I meditated I didn't affirm I didn't do anything it was fully my subconscious mind but it wasn't that deep to me it was normal EVEN THO IT WAS NORMAL all these days when I entered affirmed the affirmation that's connected to my void list then got out and found everything that was on my void list in my apartment IT WAS SO SURPRISING TO ME but I didn't get overwhelmed nor confused! It was a great surprise!

Also the time it was like 2am when I got out of my void state as I remember and I was sitting at the same place for almost 15 mins just realizing what happened with me and why my head feels like this it was a weird feeling I still can't find a name to it or a word that explains it! i thought about the word "dizzy" BUT it's not just dizzy and it's not really dizzy - it's just a different feeling!

• What was my void state like?

I will say everything that's on my mind

The first time I entered it was pitch black

Then I typed on my void list that it's full of stars it's like outer space because I chose it to be like that (you can choose how your void state looks like too)

It looked exactly like this and everytime I wake up there since that day because I didn't change it! 🫶🏻

Entering was so intense not emotionally but physically even tho I didn't feel my body 😭 it was as if my soul is getting out of my body it was so unexplainable and special to me my body was tired after it and I was feeling too much in my head after getting out and back to my physical body I don't have words for what I experienced the first time and the second time 😭 but now I have no symptoms because it was so annoying so I manifested it away when I woke up in my void state the second day (this was on my void list tho like waking up in my void state everyday and being in my void state everytime I take a nap) - that feeling in my head was so bad like as if I was so high and can't even focus for 15 mins non-stop! That's why I manifested not experiencing any symptoms at all.

• What did you manifest?

I manifested a lot of things I wanted but tbh having these things wasn't that far from me like I already could do it without entering my void state at all and I won't be specific about what I manifested cause they are a bit personal but they were friendships/relationships + businesses + apartments/homes + money/more investments..... and way more

Also I already had many investments before I entered my void state hope this clears everything too

cause many people were asking me about how do I have tips for entering without sharing my story the tips are here tho they are very helpful - it was because I don't like these people who come to your DMs and ask you to help them once and twice and 3 times with their trauma dump message or ask pls like no it was just too much for me when I posted once that I entered then deleted it but here we are again if it happens just don't blame me I will just block people.....

• About the experiment's results

I am not sure if I should post it day by day?

So I am gonna make a poll and see what y'all think!

Also.....

• POWERFUL AFFIRMATION TAPES

(self-concept - void state - shifting - subconscious mind....more) (personalized and unpersonalized) • (discounts for students and specific clients depending on their problems and their situations i am dealing with) - message me

• FOR COACHING

(self-concept - void state - shifting....more) • (discounts for students and specific clients depending on their problems and their situations i am dealing with) - message me

And now that's it! 💋💋

Have a good day/night cuties🫶🏻!

@voidsuccessarchive

@voidarchivefiles

@voidsuccess

@voidbaby111

That's the post! 💋

You can send me a message too if you wanna suggest any idea for a post or something specific I will give you credits if you want credits + If you have any questions related to my void journey or self-concept even coaching you can ask me babes 💋🫶🏻

I would really be thankful because gurl I am so busy with (my life, coaching, the experiment and more...) rn I can't even keep up with posting here so I scheduled this post lmao thanks to Tumblr for adding this feature for real!

#law of assumption #loassumption #loa #neville goddard #void success #loa success #self concept #success stories loa #self development #self esteem

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katsu28 · 2 years

Note

🍭 lollipop -26. “Just breathe. Like that. That’s it” from List 4 with steve pls?? ty<3

i combined this one with another request—"relax, i've got you." because i thought they went pretty hand in hand with each other, i hope that's okay! ty for requesting! <3

dad!steve harrington x pregnant!reader, mentions of pain and pregnancy symptoms, 1.3k

Being pregnant was proving to be one of the hardest things in your life. You’d had enough dizziness and nausea in your first trimester to last you a lifetime, enough achiness and swollen feet in your second than anyone should ever have, and now in your third, you’d discovered something brand new to put on your list of pregnancy woes.

False labor pains, otherwise known as Braxton-Hicks contractions (as Steve had very quickly informed you after a trip to the library that resulted in a pile of what to expect when you’re expecting-esque books residing next to his side of the bed). Paired with an extremely active baby girl with a horse strength kick who loved to make it known 24/7, this home stretch was your toughest one yet.

The telltale open and shut of the front door signaled Steve’s arrival, even before his voice. “Honey, I’m home!!!” He sang.

You made a vague noise of acknowledgement from your sprawled out position on the couch, waving your hand over your head haphazardly. You’d been stuck in the same spot for almost the whole day, seeing as every time you tried to get up, either another well placed kick or a false contraction dragged you right back down.

“How’re my girls doing?”

“Your daughter’s doing her daily karate routine against my organs, but other than that we’re great.”

“Oh so she’s gonna do karate now? I thought she was gonna be a tap dancer? Or a soccer player?” Steve teased gently, tossing his keys into the bowl on the table near the front door. He kicked his shoes off too, hanging his jacket on the hook next to yours before crossing the room to rub your shoulders with a kiss pressed to the top of your head.

“She can be all of them when she grows up, but I wish she’d stop it right now.”

He let out a snort of laughter, rounding the couch and kneeling in front of you. One hand came to rub your belly gently, the other coming to land on your knee. “Anything I can do for you?”

“Tell her to cut it out.” Another laugh from him. “How was work?”

“Pretty uneventful. Robin says hi though, wanted me to ask if you two were still on for lunch on Tuesday?”

“Oh my god, I totally forgot to call her back!” You gasped, hands scrabbling for purchase on the couch cushions as if you wanted to push yourself up.

“Hey, hey, slow your roll, sweetheart. Take it easy, I’ll give her a call later.” Steve eased you back down, shooting you a pointed look when you pouted up at him. “I promise, ‘mkay?”

“‘Mkay.” You sighed, slumping back into your previous position. Then, barely even taking a beat, you shot up straight again, this time moving to grab Steve’s shoulders as leverage.

His brows furrowed in instant concern. “What? What’s happening now? Are you okay?”

“Gotta pee.”

“Jesus, you really scared me for a second there,” He breathed, pressing a hand against his chest but going to help you up anyways.

The second you made it to your feet, you were hit with another Braxton-Hicks, this one so big that you would’ve keeled over at the strength of it if not for Steve still holding on to you. You squeezed your eyes shut, sinking back down on the couch yet again with a choked whimper. For something called false labor, the pain sure was really goddamn real. “Whoa, okay. Relax, I’ve got you. You’re alright, sweetheart, you’re doing great. Just relax.”

“Tell me to relax one more time and I’m gonna wring your neck, Harrington.” You said through gritted teeth, fisting his shirt in your hand as if it would help you ride out the pain.

Steve ignored your threat, because he knew you didn’t actually mean it. You’d been growing a whole tiny human inside you for the past eight months, the least he could do was stomach a few gripes here and there. “Squeeze my hands. Just squeeze my hands, it’ll help.”

You gladly took him up on the offer, borderline crushing his hands with a strength neither you nor him knew you had, but he’d never complain about it. A popped knuckle and temporary loss of blood flow was nothing compared to what you’d been having to endure nonstop.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the worsening spasm in your back and abdomen, like someone had taken your insides and was twisting them around in their grip.

“Just breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth.” Steve soothed, mimicking the deep breaths he wanted you to take. “Like that, that’s it. There you go. Just like that, baby.”

“This is the cramp from hell, Steve, deep breathing isn’t helping anything.”

“Okay, alright, let’s try something else then. Didn’t the doctor say moving around would help lessen the pain?” He suggested, trying his best to rack his brain despite the numbness creeping through his hands. “Or maybe drink some water? I can get you a glass of—”

“Can you just shut up for a minute?” The sharpness in your words shocked you, and should’ve shocked Steve too, but he didn’t seem phased at all, instead just nodding, gazing up at you with wide honey eyes currently filled with concern.

Guilt pooled in you as soon as the contraction finally subsided, and somehow, the guilt felt worse. Steve had been nothing less than the perfect partner this entire pregnancy, and here you were snapping at him for being supportive. Again.

You inhaled a shaky breath, bringing his hands up and pressing a kiss to each of his palms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Stevie, I don’t mean to be mean to you, I just—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, okay? You can do and say anything you want to me, sweetheart, and you never have to apologize. You’re carrying our kid, you’ve got every right to be as mean as you want.” He assured you, cupping your face. His thumbs stroked across your cheeks featherlight despite the firmness in his grip. “I’m a big boy, I can take it. Never be sorry. You don’t have to be.”

“I love you,” You sighed miserably, melting against him like a popsicle on a hot summer day.

“I love you most, sweetheart.” He replied softly, leaning down to press his lips against your belly before adding something. “And I love you most too, baby girl, even though you’re giving your mom a tough time right now.”

“I swear, she’s bullying me more and more everyday.”

He chuckled softly, smoothing a hand down your back in light circles. “I’m sure that’s just her way of saying she’s excited to meet us.”

“I know. I’m so excited to meet her and I know she’s already everything we’ve ever dreamed of, but I’d kill to be able to sleep on my stomach again.”

“One more month, baby. Just one more month and then you can sleep on your stomach all you want.” He murmured, breath ghosting across your skin with each word.

“One more month.” You echoed, curling your hand around the back of his neck. One more month of discomfort for a lifetime of anything and everything with your baby girl. That, you were excited for. Slightly terrified, but definitely more excited. “I’m nervous. Are you?”

“Oh yeah. Nearly-shitting-my-pants nervous. All the time. I don’t think that feeling is ever gonna go away, honestly.” He snorted, nodding sharply. He pressed one more kiss to your belly. “But it’s worth it. As long as I have my two girls, anything is worth it.”

“I hate how perfect you’re being right now.”

“Just right now? I think you mean always.”

You pressed your lips together suddenly, scrunching your nose at him. “Stevie, you’re about to hate me.”

“I could never, but good try.”

“I still need to pee.”

Steve barked out a laugh, heaving himself to his feet and gearing up to help you in your endless attempts at standing up. “C’mon, preggers, let’s get you to the bathroom before karate kid in there decides to try out for a new belt.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #dad!steve harrington x pregnant!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #kait celebrates 1k!

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arctrooper69 · 2 years

Note

hiii! i just found your hurt/comfort dialog prompt list you had tagged and i'm such a sucker for that kind of stuff. could you please do prompt 34. "you're covered in blood, need to tell me something?" with wolffe? maybe even a little bit of prompts 20 and 35 from the the hurt/comfort sprinkled in there too? i absolutely adore your work and your such a fantastic writer, i look forward to everytime you post, and you do such a beautiful job on your writing that i can't wait to read this once it is done (if you decided to do it) . feel free to change it how you want, and thank you for taking time out of busy day to read this. love you <333

Hey! I'm so glad you've been enjoying my work! Sorry it took me awhile to get this out to you. I had so many ideas for it but I couldn't decide what I wanted to do. Hope you enjoy it! 😁

Prompt# 20: "How long did you think that you could hide that?"

Prompt# 34: "You're covered in blood, need to tell me anything?"

Prompt# 35: "It's just a headache, I'm fine."

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

Love is a Battlefield

The new General doesn't want to ask for help. Commander Wolffe does so anyway.

Warnings: Blood. Angst. Battlefield scenes. Hurt/Comfort.

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

"Okay, today officially sucks." You grumbled under your breath, cursing whatever cosmic Force led you to be in your current state. Groaning you dragged yourself back over the ledge and collapsed in the mud. Everything hurt. Your clothes were stiff with dried and drying blood and at this point, you weren't sure if it belonged to you or to those damn splox who's nest you'd fallen into. Probably both.

Ok, now to find the rest of the company. You were sure that you hadn't strayed too far from the battlefield when you'd been drug off by battle droids and thrown from a cliff in the resulting fight. But hey, at least you took them down with you. You thought, cracking a smile. Master Plo would've been proud. On the other hand, you frowned, you had gotten separated from everyone else - so maybe not so much.

You drew a sharp breath between your teeth. A burning, grating feeling radiated from your side as you stepped over a rock and nearly fell to the ground. You paused for a moment to let your tunneling vision focus again, fighting back the urge to throw up. Maybe some of the blood was actually yours. The trek back to camp was going to take much longer than you expected.

Good. Maybe that would give you time to mull over the conversation you'd had yesterday morning with the commander of you battalion.

You were sure it was the reason that Commander Wolffe was ignoring you earlier today.

***

You'd chosen to continue on with the battalion after Master Plo had received an urgent message from the Council, recalling him from the field. Wolffe disagreed.

"You're injured!" He snapped, more forcefully than intended.

You sighed rolling your eyes. "It's just a headache. I'm fine. You know I've had worse, Commander." It was more than a headache, probably a concussion due to the nausea and dizziness that currently plagued you. But he didn't need to know that.

Wolffe pinched the bridge of his nose.

"General, I saw that spider droid fling you halfway across the battlefield. Can you at least go to medical to get checked out? I need you-" He froze, then coughed quickly, trying to pass off his slip-up as though he'd been interrupted mid sentence. "We. We need you. Your men need you at your best, general."

He coughed again and quickly left the room, leaving you frozen in place.

***

Did he really say that? You replayed his words in your head over and over again.

"I need you."

You couldn't deny that it had shaken you. You couldn't deny that it had hit you in such a way that made your whole body tingle and flood with warmth. As much as you tried to suppress it and convince yourself it was nothing, you had found yourself staring at the Commander a lot recently. The way he confidently carried himself, the subtle spark in his eye, the way he cared for his men even though he hid it behind that abrasive and sarcastic front - it was all so perfect. So attractive. So him.

No, he couldn't have meant it like that. You were his superior and even more importantly, you were a Jedi. No attachment allowed. He definitely couldn't have meant it like that. It was simply a slip of the tongue. He felt nothing for you and you felt nothing for him. You told yourself that your infatuation wasn't real. Commander Wolffe was a good solider and your fondness for him was simply a professional sense of pride. That's all.

Distant voices interrupted your brooding. Several clone troopers were searching high and low, calling out for someone but you didn't quite catch the name.

"Who are we looking for?" You walked up to the trooper closest to you. His shiny white armor was streaked with mud and ash - one of the new guys. Splash, they'd christened him on account of the puddle of mud he'd landed in immediately after jumping from the gunship into the field. It was hard to believe you'd only been here for three days. It felt like three years.

"We're looking for the General!" He explained hurriedly, hardly giving you a side glance.

Your heart dropped. Surely not Master Plo. Had he not left for Coruscant after all? Your hero and former master had seemed invincible ever since he'd chosen you to be his Padawan.

"General Plo Koon?" You asked hesitantly.

Splashed grunted as he stepped over a log. "No, the other one."

A wave of relief washed over you. You could've laughed out loud if your head wasn't so cloudy. Your side screamed with every step. You took a shallow breath, trying to ground yourself.

I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me.

Supplementing with the force wouldnt last long and it was draining, but it was better than the agony you'd been in. You took a deep breath, allowing the pain to become a whisper and looked back up at the clone.

"Well you found her!" You joked.

"What?" He stood up looking confused. Then he looked over at you.

Splash straightened up upon realizing that he had indeed found the General. He was glad he was wearing his bucket because he could feel his face turning red with embarrassment. He scrambled stiffly to attention. "Uhm, sorry Sir. I mean Ma'am. Uh, General." He stuttered, trying to compose himself. You chuckled, wincing as the movement pulled at your wounded side. Splash looked alarmed as if he'd just realized that his General was covered in blood. "Are you injured, Ma'am?"

You grit your teeth to hide the pain. "No, I'm fine, thank you. I believe it all belongs to the splox that I killed. Fell into a nest of em."

He looked at you, unsure if you were being serious or not, trying to recall if the regulation manuals told him what to do in a situation like this.

"We should probably make our way to medical, all the same." He concluded. "Just to be safe. Get you checked out and all." He offered his arm.

You shook your head. "No that's alright. They're much too busy right now, seeing as the battle has just ended."

"Well I'm sure..."

You put a hand up to stop him. "It's fine, Splash. I can take care of myself. Let's worry about making our way back to camp."

"Of course, General."

***

You made your way back to camp and bid Splash a farewell. Exhausted, you yawned and slowly made your way back to your tent, passing the Commander's tent on your way there.

"General!" Commander Wolffe sprang to his feet the moment he saw you. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

His eyebrows knit tightly together with a frown. If you didn't know better, you almost thought he looked concerned. Worried even. But that would be stupid. You were reading too much into it. He was simply a solider looking out for the welfare of his commanding officer. That's it. Nothing more.

"I'm good!" You grinned, hoping he didn't notice the way your teeth ground against the pain in your head and now your side.

Wolffe's face became unreadable.

"Just good!?" He growled. "General, you are covered in blood. 'Good' does not even begin to cover it. Do you need to tell me something?"

Yes. I think I'm in love with you.

"No not really." You nonchantly shrugged. "It's not mine. Fell into a nest of those giant splox beetles and had to take em out before they ate me. You know how it is."

Wolffe rolled his eyes. He didn't believe you, but what could he do? He wasn't your superior, he couldn't order you to tell him. He made a note to ask Cody and Rex to let him into the clones-with-stubborn-generals club. He could sure use some advice.

"Could you be anymore bull-headed?" he wanted to yell at you as you left the room, interpreting his silence as the end of that conversation.

Wolffe groaned in frustration. Why did he care so much? Why did the thought of you being wounded send waves of terror cascading through his core. You were acting strange, subtly walking as though every step sent agony shooting through your body thinking nobody would notice. He noticed. He wanted to pick you up in his arms and bandage your wounds. He wanted to softly kiss each scar on your skin.

You were a good leader. He understood wanting to be tough, wanting to be strong for the soldiers under your command. If he was honest with himself, he did the same.

You trudged wearily back to your tent, ignoring the pain that was slowly returning to full force with a vengeance as though it was angry at being willed into submission.

You made it a point to avoid medical. The dwindling amount of medical supplies worried you. It was only a matter of time before they would run out if they weren't sent relief. The chief medical officer had drastically downplayed the dire straits the company was in when you asked him. You'd seen the inventory. It was scarce. It wouldn't be right, going to medical right now. Not when you could most likely patch yourself up with the small medkit by your bunk. The clones made up the backbone of the GAR, it was only right that they take priority over you.

***

It was a miracle of the Force that you hadn't passed out by the time you reached the tent. Biting your lip to keep you from making too much noise, you peeled off your shirt to assess the damage, grabbing a towel from the shelf.

You bit back a pained moan and your vision swam as you gripped the edge of your cot to steady yourself. A large gash curled around the side of your chest from the bottom of your breast to your hip. The torn skin bled heavily, quickly turning the towel a crimson red.

This was...not good.

The com chirped, making you jump. You felt dazed and exhausted. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before answering the com. Sergeant Sinker's brisk voice echoed from the device.

"General, the clankers are moving in from the North. They've engaged the front and the 501st is calling for aid. What are your orders?"

Your men needed you. Who were you to ignore them? What kind of leader would you be if you sent them off while you stayed behind. "A good leader leads by example" Master Plo always said. You were tired of the animalistic way the clones were treated - as if they were only droids or worse. You would be there for your men, fighting right up front beside them. Right beside Commander Wolffe.

You lit up the com. "Proceed with the request, Sergeant. I'll be there shortly."

You looked at the medkit. Well, so much for that. You quickly taped up the wound and slapped some bacta treated gauze on it. Then you quickly changed your clothes, willing yourself to ignore the nauseating pain. You steadied yourself with a hand on the wall before wiping the cold sweat from your clammy skin. You tried to breathe, once more closing your eyes in meditation once again squashing down the pain. The show must go on. The General must lead her men into battle.

***

General Skywalker was right to call for aid. The Separatist forces were throwing everything they had at you. You jumped over the guns of a tank, slicing through the controls to disable it. Droid after droid came at you from all sides and you cut them down. If only the Commander could see you now in all your glory.

An explosion knocked you off your feet, wrenching you from your stupor. Pain surged through your body as you pushed yourself to your feet. The continuous onslaught of enemy forces wasn't so fun now. You began to realize just how tired you were. Trying to catch your breath felt as futile as swimming in honey. Your mind felt sluggish and your arms felt like lead. A B2 took aim and fired. You saw him fire and raised your saber to block but it was a fraction of a second too slow and the blast hit your shoulder. Kriff. You hit the ground hard, letting the awful, searing pain wash over you. You wanted to close your eyes. You wished you could just rest. Just for a moment.

Your eyes flew back open. No. The men need you. Get up. Shakily you forced yourself to your knees and onto your feet. One more time. You knew this was abusing the force but it was for an honorable reason. Right?

I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me. Pain is temporary. Accept it simply as a signal sent by the body. Accept the pain. Respect it. Don't fight it. Ask your body to begin to heal.

You let out a feral scream, pouring every last ounce of energy and willpower into your prayers, knocking back an entire wave of droids. And then you felt nothing.

***

My head. The first thing you noticed upon regaining consciousness was the skull splitting headache that you could almost feel radiating down your entire body. It felt as though someone was spearing red hot needles through your eyeballs, twisting them through the many sections of your brain. The pain made you nauseous.

An agonized wheeze drifted from your lips as you tried to raise your hands to cup your face. When did my arms get so heavy? Pain shot through your side and shoulder as you tried to move. Panic gripped you when you couldn't.

"Ah kriff," a gruff voice cursed. "Hey! General. General, it's okay. Calm down. You're safe." You'd know that voice anywhere - it was the only clear thing that cut through the haze of pain. Commander Wolffe.

He barked a command at someone and after a few minutes the pain had loosened it's claws. It wasn't much but it was better than before.

"What do you need, General? Are you still in pain?"

"Lights," you managed to groan. Even that took too much energy and you desperately hoped that you wouldn't be sick in front of the Commander.

Wolffe immediately jumped from his chair, quickly shutting off the lights. That helped some, but not much. It still felt like your head was being lobotomized by a pickaxe. Your side and shoulder felt like they'd been broken off and trampled by a bantha. A bantha that was on fire maybe.

"You are so kriffing stubborn, you know that!?" Wolffe growled. Seeing you wince, he lowered his volume but continued with the hard and bitter tone.

"How long did you think you could hide that!? Hmm?" He motioned to your side.

"You almost died yesterday." He said, softening his voice ever so slightly.

Wolffe looked tired. His eyes were sunken and even his cybernetic one had a dark shadow beneath it. He looked like he hadn't shaved or showered since the battle. His grey armor was still scuffed up with dirt and grime. A small bacta patch adorned his right eyebrow.

You looked away, shame burning at the corners your eyes, adding to the overwhelming pressure in your head. You failed him and now he hated you. You turned your head away from him wincing at the pain but you couldn't bear to have him see the tears that rolled down your cheeks.

"Look at me." A command. He didn't have the authority to give you a command, but you felt compelled to comply all the same. Hastily wiping your eyes in a futile attempt at seeming alright, you turned towards him. Your breath caught as he wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling it from your face.

"Stop kriffing pretending that you're okay." Still a command, but this one felt softer. His voice still held the rough, bitter edge that defined him so well but as you met his eyes, they held an uncertain gaze of vulnerability.

"Your men need you alive. They care about you, General." He paused, pacing back and forth in the dark room. He came to a stand still by the foot of your bed, refusing to meet your gaze, as though he had something he wanted to say. Finally he took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Oh kriff it." He snapped. "I care about you, damnit!" He shook his head and began to pace again, the anger returning to his visage.

"General Plo said you could've died." He spat. "He said that you had spread yourself so thin, used up so much energy that you could've killed yourself. Do you..." He cut himself off and took another breath, clenching his fists tightly. "Do you know what that would've done to this company. Do you know what that would've done to me!?"

There was fire in his eyes when he looked back up at you. "It would've killed me too."

You lay there in your bed staring at him - shocked at this outburst. What was he saying? That he cared for you? That he loved you? That he thought about you as much as you thought about him?

"I.." you began softly.

"No. I'm not done."

You shut your mouth.

"General, when you came back to camp covered in blood, I had to restrain myself from throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to medical myself. I knew something was wrong but I trusted that you knew what you were doing. It was the same when I saw you collapse yesterday. It took everything in me not to race to your side."

He shook his head, disappointed in himself, and angry with you. "I should be holding the line with my men, not babysitting my General!"

You stared blankly ahead, letting his anger wash over you. So that's how he saw you. That solves one problem, you tried to convince yourself. It was good that he didn't reciprocate your feelings. That made it easier to cleanse yourself of any feeling of attachment. But then why didn't hurt so bad? Why did it feel like a part of your soul had been sawed away? Wasn't letting go of your emotions supposed to bring you peace? This crushing weight of disappointment and heartbreak was anything but peace.

The room was quiet save for the beeps and whirs of the medical equipment around you. The silence felt deafening. Then finally Wolffe let out a sigh.

"I'm....sorry..." The words dragged themselves reluctantly from his mouth.

You didn't respond.

The bed buckled slightly as Wolffe sat down on the edge. He tentatively rested a hand gently on your back, expecting you to recoil or stiffen under his touch. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as you leaned into his touch instead.

He sighed, rolling his neck. "Look," he began awkwardly. "I'm not good at this kind of thing so I'm just going to be honest with you. I..." He stopped. You turned your face towards his. He took a breathe, not daring to make eye contact. "I think I'm in love with you. Kriff. No, I know I'm in love with you."

You gasped, the dam broke and tears began to stream down your face.

Wolffe jumped up, startled and clearly embarrassed. "I...I mean... I... I didn't mean..." The normally confident Commander stumbled over his words in a shameful horror.

"No," you sobbed. You felt so relieved. Everything felt right again. "You didn't do anything wrong." He looked down at you, eybrows knitted upwards in confusion. "Then why..." He motioned to your tearful face.

"Because I love you too and I was afraid that you hated me. I was afraid that everyone would see me as a terrible General. And also my everything hurts and..." you sobbed, "...and I love you so much."

Wolffe looked down at you with amusement and a strange softness took hold of his features - a foreign look for his usually serious demeanor.

"You look nice when you smile," you whispered with a small grin. "But you can go back to frowning if that's more comfortable for you."

Wolffe rolled his eyes as he settled down in a chair beside your bed. "You should get some sleep, General." Back to his serious old self again but he kept that twinkle in his eye. Only for you. he thought.

"I'll be right here when you wake up."

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

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masonmovnt · 2 years

Text

I don’t date assholes

Summary: From the night they met, to memories with each other throughout the years, to the night they confess it all.

Word count: 5.8k words

Warnings: angst, friends to lovers, alcohol

A/N: please be gentle with me, this was my first Mason fic I’ve written! I’m an absolute sucker for friends to lovers, and every time I reread it, I die on the inside 😭 I hope this hits everyone’s feels the way it hit mine. If anyone wants to be tagged in the future in Mason fics, please message me and I’ll add you onto the tag list!

“I don’t date assholes.”

If you had told someone that that’s how you started a friendship with someone, they’d think you were messing with them. A soft snicker escaping their mouth, as they proceeded to ask you what really happened. It made you laugh watching their facial expression change, knowing they were curious as to how someone wanted to be friends with you after blurting out those words.

Your body leaned against the wall, hiding between the wall and the bodies that were circled around you, everyone else conversing with the other people within the group. You? You’d been leaning against the wall for a record breaking 10 minutes, not wanting to engage in conversation with anyone you didn't know. Drunk bodies filled up the apartment fast, giving no room for anyone to wiggle their way across the apartment without awkwardly brushing against another person's body. You had been in your position long enough to get a good glimpse around the current room, your eyes darting from body to body. At one point your attention landed on a group of rowdy boys, consisting of maybe four to five of them. All of them making it easy to tell that they had chugged at least a half a dozen beers to each of their faces, their bodies wobbling all over, making you feel dizzy just by watching them stubble everywhere.

At one point your eyes landed on one of the boys of the group, instantly giving him a once over. He wore a pair of medium washed blue jeans, and had a long sleeve white shirt covering his top half. Visible stains could be seen on his shirt, even in the darkness that took over the room. Most likely the result of having one too many drinks, or stuffing way too many drunk people into a tiny space. Your eyes travelled up his body, making their way towards his face. He sported a cheeky smile, a smile that seemed to never leave his face. Even though he was a mere eight feet or so away from you, you could see the light glistening in his eyes. His soft brown hair plopping down in any and every direction, the sweat dripping off of his forehead causing it to stick against his face. A look that usually made you cringe but for some reason it looked good on him, and you couldn’t tell why.

Apparently you hadn’t been the only one noticing someone. His eyes bouncing off of all the bodies in the room, trying to find the girl who walked into the party two hours ago. The one that turned quite a few heads, his included. It was the way you didn’t care what was happening around you, just simply doing your own thing despite a lot happening around you. It was the way you smiled at someone, brightening up the entire room with a simple gesture. Mason could tell the moment he saw you against the wall, that you didn’t realize how beautiful you actually were. Natural beauty clung to you, making it hard for anyone to look away. Although you had this look on your face that said you’d rather be at home watching Netflix in your comfiest clothing, you still respected the people around you. Showing them that you were still enjoying their company.

Mason lost you a few times throughout the night, getting distracted by the group of people he had been hanging with the moment he stepped through the doors. The group, clearly drunk, didn’t have any clue of Mason and his crush on the girl leaning against the wall. The boys completely smashed didn’t even realize Mason had left them, prancing his way throughout the bodies of people, until he was finally a foot away from you. He waited a few seconds, not wanting to interrupt your conversation, knowing he would be furious if someone interrupted him. The girl you were speaking to instantly looked to her left, her eyes landing on Mason, and then back to you. Her hand landed on your shoulder as she leaned in to whisper something into your ear, before backing away and disappearing into the crowd.

You turned your neck towards the mysterious boy, a blank look quickly replacing the relaxed face you’ve had most of the night. Had he seen you staring at him moments ago? You thought.

“So I know this is weird and all but I’ve noticed you standing here all night,” he started off, running his hand gently against his facial hair and his eyes darting everywhere but at yours, clearly nervous.

You looked at him, letting him know you were waiting for him to continue. It took him a few moments but he finally looked up, giving you a curious look, most likely based off of the blank expression on yours. When he saw you weren't responding, he let out a low sigh.

“How about we leave this place and go have some fun somewhere else?” He lifted his solo cup to his mouth, his lips barely hiding underneath the rim, revealing a fresh smirk.

To say you were shocked was an understatement, because you didn’t know what to even say. He approached you in the least cockiest way, showing nothing but respect while you were still talking to someone. He waited for you to finish, making sure to not interrupt you, something most people at parties forgot to do. The moment he spoke, you could tell he was nervous. Words stuttered through his lips, as he looked everywhere but at you.

You looked up at him, a mischievous smile replacing your blank expression. “I don’t date assholes.”

With the mischievous smile still on your face, you started peeling your body off of the wall, making sure to brush your shoulder against his as you made your way elsewhere. Anywhere else but here.

That night was almost three years ago. Three years ago when you completely turned down Mason, along with insulting him. Of course you hadn’t known Mason before that night, so you didn’t know much about him besides him being gorgeous. You obviously didn’t know how persistent he was, completely shocking you the moment you got home to see a DM from him on Instagram. You didn’t even question how he found your Instagram, because that was the least of your worries. What shocked you the most was that he reached out to you, taking you by surprise. He started off by apologizing, knowing that was the only chance he had to try to make amends with you. He then proceeded to praise you, saying he’s never seen a girl just turn down a guy like that and walk away looking like a complete badass, completely stunning him. This made you chuckle.

The rest was completely history. Mason kept in contact with you through Instagram, making it his mission to get to know you. Beside being one of the most beautiful girls he had ever laid eyes on, he loved how genuine you were. Since being in the eyes of thousands of people at a young age, it was almost impossible to meet anyone without knowing whether they liked him for him, or because he grew up in the spotlight. He knew the moment that you turned him down that you didn’t care if he was a professional athlete. You didn’t let things slide just because he was who he was, and he could finally say that it was refreshing to meet someone new.

Of course even though you turned Mason down, it didn’t stop him from being his flirty self. A few weeks after developing a friendship, he couldn’t help but always bring up that night. He joked around about him not being your type, but how he would change your mind eventually, because of course he was the Mason Mount. You instantly laughed in his face, finding it hilarious that he was so determined to change your mind. Despite finding him attractive that one night, you couldn’t think of him but anything more than a friend.

It didn’t take long for you to meet his friends and vice versa. Mason was constantly asking you to hang out whenever he wasn’t busy with football, and would turn into a child when you turned him down because you were having a girls night.

“I can be one of the girls,” he said into the phone. You weren’t with him at that very moment, but you could sense the pout he had just replaced his smile with. “I just wanna see you.”

Even though you tried to be stern with him, he always ended up winning. He knew exactly what to say, knowing what got you to cave, and it always worked. He felt bad whenever he pulled out his moves, but instantly forgot about how bad he felt the moment he saw you. You seemed to always make him feel better, even after some of the worst days he’s ever had.

His friends loved you from the start, and found it hilarious that you turned him down the way you did. Despite Mason telling them to stop bringing it up, they never failed to do so, causing a chuckle to escape your mouth as Mason sighed before you.

“Oh come on you big baby,” you shoved his body with your shoulder. “You have to admit, it was a funny way to meet.”

One thing both friend groups had in common was the way they saw the both of you guys together. From the outsides eyes, you seemed liked more than friends, even if you yourself denied it hundreds of times. People noticed the way your guys’ eyes darted around the room searching for the other person, especially when the other person wasn’t in the room. They saw the way you guys interacted with each other, basically inseparable. Despite Mason trying to stay as discreet as possible, he hadn’t realized that whenever he made a flirtatious comment towards you, someone was within a few feet to hear it. To everyone else you guys were basically a couple, just too dumb to realize and confess your feelings to one another. In reality, you two were just super close and couldn’t imagine not being around the other.

It was a Friday night during the Christmas break, meaning both yourself and Mason were completely free to do whatever you wanted. During the holidays Mason wouldn't hesitate to head back to his hometown, getting to spend the holidays with his family for a couple of days. Unfortunately for you it was the complete opposite. Christmas wasn’t really something you enjoyed celebrating, and you dreaded when the time came around each year. Mason knew this about you, and even tried convincing you to come home with him to spend the holidays with him. Usually he didn’t need to do much convincing at all, but with Christmas involved, it was near impossible.

“Why don’t you wanna come home with me?” He pouted down at you. “My family would love to have you around.”

“Mason,” you sternly look up at him, letting him know how serious you were. “You know my answer will always be the same so why bother asking.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“Just please go home to your family, I’m sure they wanna see you.”

“No.” He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What do you mean no?” He finally had your full attention, knowing that his stubbornness drove you crazy.

“If you aren’t coming home with me for Christmas, then I’m not going.”

“Wait,” you turned your body so you were now facing him, your legs underneath your body as you sat on them. “So you’re saying you’re just gonna stay here and spend Christmas here with me?”

He nodded down at you, “that’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m not going back home to leave you here alone, so I’m staying. My family can last one Christmas without me, I can’t leave you here alone.”

If you learned one thing in the three years you guys have been really good friends, it’s believe everything Mason says. He was never a bullshitter, and would tell you exactly how it is. If he didn’t like you? You would know within two minutes of meeting him. If he didn’t like something you did? He wouldn’t hesitate to tell you exactly that. So you knew as soon as those words came out of his mouth, there was no convincing him. Once his mind was set there was no going back.

Knowing that you didn’t really care for the festivities of Christmas, Mason tried making the most of his time spent with you that didn’t remind you of Christmas. Even though everyone dusted off their skates near the holidays and got together to skate, you never really connected the two together. Maybe it was because hockey was in your life for most of your childhood, your brothers both growing up playing hockey competitively.

“It’s freezing outside today, so why don’t we just stay at my apartment and cozy up near the fire instead of skating,” he suggested as you both walked in the direction towards his condo.

“I’ll never turn down the fireplace and you know that Mase,” you laughed, looking up at him. “But isn’t that something we do all the time?”

“Yes it is,” he snickered knowing you would say something like that. He just knew you so well. “But I’ve got a few things we can do to mix it up.”

“And that is?”

“You’ll see babe, you’ll see!”

When you guys finally made it back to his condo fifteen minutes later, it got you realizing just how freezing it was in the city tonight. Your body shivered instantly, reacting to the temperature difference from Mason’s apartment and the wind chill outside.

“Just get comfy and I’ll set everything up,” Masom ripped off his jacket, chucking it on the backrest of the couch in the living room. Excitement radiating off of his voice, letting you know that he’d been planning this for a while. He always seemed to amaze you, coming up with all sorts of ideas you yourself never once thought about.

You made your way through the familiar condo, your feet seamlessly gliding across the shiny hardwood floors. Your eyes darting off of the familiar furniture, since you probably spent more time at Mason’s condo than you did yours. It made you feel at home, especially being alone at your condo most nights when you decided to stay there. Mason would make jokes about you moving in since you always seemed to be there even when he wasn’t, but you always took them as that, a joke.

Mason exited his guest bedroom with a giant box in his hands, the contents of the box jiggling with every step he took towards you. He dropped the box onto the dining room table, and turned his attention back towards you.

“So I know whenever we come back to my condo to relax near the fireplace it’s usually while watching Netflix,” he commended, smirking down at you. “But I’ve decided to change it up.”

“What’s in the box Mason?”

He made his way towards the fridge, swiftly opening it and pulling a few things out. With his arms completely full a few seconds later, he pulled his body away from the fridge to close it, before making his way toward the dining room table where you were now standing at.

“Alcohol?” You knew you had a confused look on your face the moment Mason looked up at you and chuckled.

“Yes alcohol,” he placed it down in the middle of the table. “I think tonight calls for a night of board games and drinking.”

No matter what it was that Mason came up with, you guys always ended up enjoying yourselves. Whether it was the activity he decided on or just the quality time you both spent together doing everyday stuff, you never seemed to get bored. You were an introvert, mostly keeping to yourself, but with Mason you felt like you could trust him with your whole life.

“I say by the end of monopoly, you’re too drunk to even stand up,” Mason chuckled as he opened up two beers, passing one to you as he took a seat at the table.

You pulled the seat beside him out, moving your body quickly into the seat before taking a giant swing, “I say I’m perfectly fine and you’re the one who I have to take care of tonight.”

“Oh you’re on,” he smirked at you, clinking his beer bottle with yours before opening up the box in front of you.

Maybe it was because you were a bit smaller than Mason, or maybe it was because you didn’t consume enough alcohol frequently to have a high alcohol tolerance, but to say you were drunk was no lie. You were smashed, and it was no surprise to you when you needed Mason’s help to make sure you were able to stand up properly. The game of monopoly had gone on for a long three hours, money scattered all over the board as a result of Mason flaunting all his winnings.

“I knew I’d win,” he flung his money in the air, it slowly whirling through the air before it plopped down on the game board, looking like a pile of freshly fallen leaves.

“Okay I get it Mase,” you stood against the table for support, giving him a look of annoyance.

“You’re just jealous that I not only won in monopoly, but I also called it that you’d be smashed by the end of it.”

“You’re always picking on me,” you huffed out as you crossed our arms across your chest, your eyes following Mason walk across the room until he was in front of the closet. Before you knew it, Masom had lifted up your jacket from the hanger, bringing it towards you at the table, getting ready to help you put it on. No matter what it was, he always found any and every way to make you feel like a child. He knew how much you hated being taken care of, and took it upon himself to annoy you until you rolled your eyes at him.

“Come on drunk child,” he let out a loud laugh, causing you to let out a pout. “Let’s get you dressed so we can go on a walk.”

“Wait you’re gonna bring us outside for a walk?” You shrieked up at him. “It’s nearly 1 AM Mase, we’re both intoxicated. We’re the perfect victims for kidnapping!”

“Come on drama queen,” he clung onto your hand, yanking open his front door as he let out a laugh. “Let’s go before our chances of becoming kidnapping victims become higher.”

“I’m glad you find this hilarious!”

No matter how against a walk you were, you still followed him out the condo, not having much of a choice since he was holding your hand. Even if you weren’t as intoxicated as you were, it wouldn’t settle right with you knowing that he was outside in the middle of the night on his own, and you were safe in his condo. Wherever he went, you seemed to follow, even severely intoxicated at 1am.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this!” You yelled out at Mason, him already a few feet ahead of you trying to cross the road.

“Oh come on babe,” he chuckled out, his breath lingering in the air letting anyone know that it was indeed a lot more freezing outside than it was a few hours prior. “Live a little. We’re just roaming around having fun, no harm in doing that.”

You huffed out at him, your feet still planted on the curb, never touching the road.

“God you’re so slow,” he began walking back towards you until he was only a foot away from you, breaking the distance with you by reaching out his hand. “Gimme your hand so I don’t lose you!”

Your eyes gazing down at his hand in front of him, waiting for you to grab onto it. Without overthinking anything too much, you lifted your hand to grab ahold of his hand, knowing that if you over thought it, you’d probably leave his hand hanging there. “Let’s go.”

He led the way across the street making sure you didn’t leave his sight. The nighttime air stood silent, the sound of the both of your feet hitting against the sidewalk echoing throughout the night. A silence overtaking you two, but not the type of silence that left you guys feeling awkward, but a good silence.

“Where are we going?” You finally broke the silence, curiosity taking over. “We’ve been walking for at least 15 minutes!”

“We’re almost there I promise,” he looked down at you, squeezing your hand in the process to reassure you everything would be okay.

Despite his reassurance, you still looked over your shoulder constantly, terrified that something bad was gonna happen. Even before knowing Mason you were constantly looking over your shoulder every second of the day. It was a habit you had that you couldn’t seem to brush away. Once you met Mason, you seemed to do it a lot less. You always wondered why it took someone special coming into your life to stop doing it as much as you used to, but could never think much of it. One of your good girlfriends thought otherwise. She was convinced Masom made you feel safe and sheltered, meaning you didn’t have to look at every single thing that moved around you. You were finally able to breathe comfortably when stepping outdoors, and despite always brushing it off everytime she said it was all him, you couldn’t not believe it. It was him the entire time.

“I remember going to the park as a kid, and just forgetting about everything,” Mason said from the other swing only a foot or so away from you. “My best friend and I used to sneak away to come play soccer or road hockey. It was probably one of my favourite memories with him as a child.”

You gave him a little nod, letting him know you were listening to him. Whenever he brought up his family or friends you knew he got into his feelings, sadness taking over him as he remembered he didn’t get to see them as much as he did when he was a kid. It probably didn’t help the situation that he was supposed to be back home at this very moment, surrounded by his family and friends for the next week.

“Sometimes it’s the simplest things that you experience with a person that makes them special to you,” he looked up at you, giving you a stern look as he let out a sigh. “You came into my life so unexpectedly, but I’m so glad you gave me that chance the night I was an idiot. I don’t know what I would be like if I didn’t have you.”

“Mason are you okay?” You lifted your butt off the swing, taking a few steps to Mason until you were standing in front of him. “You never get like this.”

“It’s just I’ve felt like this for a while and I thought maybe I was confused about us, but lately these feelings have been so intense I can’t hide them anymore,” his breath lingering in the air, as he looked up at you.

“Mase, what are you talking about?” You grabbed a hold of his cold hands, squeezing them. “You’re confusing me.”

“I love you okay?” He huffed out loud, as his eyes didn’t leave yours. “I know I’m always cracking jokes about it but I’m an idiot who’s so in love with you it isn’t even funny.”

You stood still not knowing if you could move. You heard everything he said to you, but it’s like your body still hadn’t processed it yet.

“Say something babe,” he squeezed your hand, pulling you out of your trance.

“Mason I-,” you stuttered as you looked down at your intertwined fingers. “We’re both intoxicated and need sleep. I think this is a conversation we need to have when we’re both sober.”

It took you a moment to build up the courage to look Mason in the eyes, scared that he might be mad at you for choosing to disregard the conversation completely due to the high alcohol consumption you both did. When you finally did look up, you were met with Mason looking down at you. His face had a blank expression on it, but his eyes held back a story. His eyes filled with hurt, completely crushing you as you had no choice but to look at him.

“Let’s get back to the condo,” he lifted his body off of the swing, letting go of your hand and walking right past you. “It’s getting late.”

You knew he was hurt, completely devastated. You knew that if you confessed your feelings to him and got the same reaction that he got from you, you’d be heartbroken. It took a huge amount of courage to finally let those feelings escape your conscious, and you could tell just how upset he truly was. Although you could sense how upset Mason was, he never once left your side the whole walk home. His hands weren’t intertwined with yours like they usually were, him placing them in his jacket pocket the moment he hopped off the swing waiting for you. He still stood beside you the entire way home, making sure you felt safe even if he was upset. Him being upset didn’t change the fact that he still cared about you, even though he knew there was a possibility that you didn’t feel the same as him.

The feeling of warmth overtakes you as the bright sunlight shines through the cracks of the curtains, the curtains definitely not doing its job. You slowly open your eyes, your hands instantly trying to shoot up to your face so you could rub your eyes, a habit you always seemed to do every morning, except you couldn’t move them. Lifting your head up off of the pillow, your eyes slowly open, your vision taking a few seconds to adjust to your surroundings. Your eyes instantly make their way to the body basically on top of you, the culprit that is making it impossible for you to move your body. His hair dangles off his head, a complete mess. His head is no longer laying on your chest, his chin resting against your boob, a smirk planted on his face.

“Good morning beautiful,” he looked up at you. “How did you sleep?”

You looked at him with a blank expression, clearly confused that he was so cheerful, especially after the events that happened the night prior.

“I slept good,” you gave him a smile, moving a curl that was stuck against his forehead out of the way. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept good as well,” he lifted his body off of your chest, lowering his feet onto the floor before getting off of the bed. “I feel refreshed for once.”

“That’s good, I know how shitty your sleep schedule is when you travel, so I’m glad you were able to catch up on some sleep.”

“Yeah,” his back still facing you, as he made his way towards the door. “I’m gonna go make some breakfast.”

Despite him being his cheerful self, you knew something was up. You knew he was taking whatever happened last night hard, and although it was upsetting him quite a bit, he wanted nothing more than to make sure you were in a good mood. He was always looking after others, but always seemed to put himself last. You loved how much he cared for the people closest to him, but you hated it when he put himself dead last.

You whipped the blanket off of your body, the heat from the apartment keeping you warm despite the blanket no longer there to shelter you. You slowly removed yourself out of the bed, following the humming echoing throughout the apartment. Mason loved to cook for the both of you, and you knew he was doing it even if you weren’t in the same room as him because he was always humming to himself.

You made your way outside of the bedroom and into the living room, the aroma of eggs and bacon hitting your nose instantly. A fresh plate made for you sitting at the table, waiting for you to indulge. He knew the way to your heart was through your stomach, and constantly made sure you were fed, even if you told him you weren’t hungry after not eating all day. You took a seat at the table, knowing he was probably about done with cooking his food, and would come join you for breakfast.

“So I kind of lied to you earlier this morning when you asked me how I slept,” he dropped the spatula in the sink, his body turning so he was now facing you as you sat at the table.

“About what?” You gulped, knowing that this conversation was probably leading to what happened last night.

“Here’s me being completely honest with you, because I shouldn’t have lied to you when you asked me,” he moved his body around the kitchen island, making his way towards you at the table. “I slept like shit last night.”

“You should have woken me up Mason, I would have helped you get some sleep,” you placed the fork that you had in your hand, on the table, giving him your full attention now. You knew this conversation needed to happen, and you had braced yourself for it the moment you stepped out of bed, knowing that when it came to Mason and how he felt, he didn't like waiting too long to resolve the situation.

“I couldn’t bring myself to do it,” he stared down at you as he pulled out the chair beside you to take a seat, making sure he was still facing you. “You just looked so peaceful and I couldn’t bring it upon myself to wake you. I saw the look on your face last night when I told you, and I didn’t want you staying up half the night overthinking, because I know you.”

“But it was okay for you to stay up all night tossing and turning and overthinking?” You argued back. “I get my reaction probably wasn’t what you wanted, but I hope you understand where I was coming from when I told you I wanted to have this conversation while we were both sober.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he looked down at his hands as he began playing with his fingers. He was nervous. “I was just so in my emotions last night and I have been for a while now. I should have just waited another day to tell you. I was an idiot and I get that.”

“Mason stop calling yourself an idiot,” you grabbed ahold of his hand, getting him to stop fidgeting with his fingers and pay attention to you. “Clearly you were in your feelings last night and have been for a while. You had every right to express how you feel, and maybe I shouldn’t have completely brushed you off the way I did. That’s on me.”

“It’s okay because last night was last night, and this morning is this morning,” he smiled up at you, the first smile he cracked since you both woke up. “Here I am fully sober, letting you know that I’ve been an idiot for the last three years since we met each other. I was an idiot the night I decided to talk disrespectfully to a girl and made a fool of myself. I’m an idiot who hid his feelings from everyone, including you, because I was scared that you just thought of me as a close friend. I’m an idiot who decided after waiting three years to finally tell you how I felt, to tell you when we were both intoxicated. But now, I’m the idiot who’s completely sober, telling you how much you have meant to me these last three years, and how you continue to be the person who makes me the person I am today. I’m an idiot who’s been in love with you, and I’m finally growing the balls to tell you.”

You looked up at him, tears threatening to escape past your eyelids as you listened to every word that escaped his mouth. There was a difference between the way he told you the night prior and at this very moment. Of course you believed him the moment those words left his mouth last night at the park, but his words this morning left you speechless. The passion felt through his words was different this time, and you felt it.

“Mason if you’re an idiot then so am I,” you lifted your body off of the chair, and into his lap, bringing your arms around his shoulder. “I’m the one who hid their feelings from everyone, including myself, in hopes that maybe if I kept telling myself that you didn’t like me, that my feelings would just go away. I just assumed you were always joking around and didn’t see me that way.”

“So it’s safe to say that we’re both idiots and we could have been together this whole time?” He chuckled at you, a bright smile illuminating the space around you.

“I guess we’re the ones to blame then,” you laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder, the feeling of relief finally taking you over.

"I guess we are love," he rubbed your shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on top of your head. "I guess we are."

Maybe it wouldn't have taken as long as it did for you two to get together if you guys had listened to the people around you, constantly bickering at them as they always questioned you two about your relationship with each other. Maybe you guys would have been together this whole time, laughing about how funny it was the way you two met. One positive thing that came out of you guys waiting three years to finally realize your love for each other were the memories you made with each other. They say most successful relationships form from great friendships, and despite your friendship starting off a little rocky, you knew just how great of a friendship you guys had with each other. You trusted each other, you were there for each other during the good and the bad times, but now you guys could finally add another chapter to your friendship. The first chapter of your romantic relationship, a relationship full of I love you's.

#mason mount fic #mason mount #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #my writing #Mason mount imagine

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