#this would not leave my head unfortunately

[egcdeath]

the old college try

summary: you reconnect with an unexpected guest at the creator of your scholarship’s dinner party.

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

warnings: stanford era, sassy reader, situationship, a touch of family drama, mentions of putting an etsy love spell on someone, arguing, emotional immaturity, maybe not the best decisions from our lovely characters, kindaaaa open ending

word count: 4.6k

author’s note: i am absolutely addicted to all things ex!patrick. i hope you enjoy reading this!

“This is my son, Patrick.”

Your stomach dropped the second the woman’s son turned around, familiar light eyes and scruffy appearance immediately taking you back to your tumultuous third semester of college. 

You remembered it like it was yesterday—the extended periods without contact followed by a surprise appearance at your dorm room, or the drawn out arguments on the phone that left every passerby giving you—the angry woman on the phone in her pajamas on the sidewalk—a strange look, and even the few good times you had with him. 

You blinked once to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you, then felt an onslaught of realization hit you at once. Despite your several month on-and-off situationship with Patrick, you never learned much identifying information about him, including his last name. In fact, that had been something you’d argued about multiple times. The two of you barely knew each other, save for each others’ bodies, which you unfortunately both knew very well.

Had you known that Patrick was the son of Mrs. Zweig, donor to your scholarship, you wouldn’t have accepted the invite to this family event. 

Mrs. Zweig seemed to recognize the shock and confusion on both of your faces. While you didn’t think your mouth was agape, there was certainly a high chance that it was. “You two already know each other?” she asked, looking amused. 

“No,” you quickly replied.

“Yeah,” Patrick said, his words coming out at the same time as yours. 

“Yes,” you tried again, trying to get your story straight. 

“No,” he said this time, your voices overlapping once more. 

She glanced between the two of you skeptically before humming aloud. “Hmm. Well, I’ll let you two chat and connect, or reconnect, whatever it is you’re doing.”

She was off without much more fanfare, leaving you very flustered in her wake. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Patrick asked you, getting right in your face like he always did when the two of you argued. It was almost slightly nostalgia-inducing. 

“What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question, given that he had been introduced as the son of your beneficiary. Of course he would be at a family function. This was his family, after all. But you were flustered, as anyone else in your shoes would be, and words were currently failing you. 

“Zweig doesn’t ring a bell?” he asked. When you responded with a wordless shake of your head, he chuckled in annoyance and disbelief. It all felt very familiar. “What was it that you always used to say to me? ‘You don’t even know what my middle name is?’”

You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes, not knowing where the discussion was going, but not liking it regardless. 

In response to your non-verbal response, he leaned in close to your ear, clearly not trying to let on to the rest of the attendees the level of drama that was currently occurring in their midst. 

“You hypocrite.”

The words he spat were simple, but effective—leaving you simultaneously filled with rage and oddly, a little aroused.

He walked off after that, using self restraint that you weren’t actually sure that he had. Knowing Patrick, he would be back and spewing vitriol in your face or in your ear whenever he next had the opportunity. 

You were taking a very different approach to the situation. Now that you knew Patrick was at the event, you were determined to do everything humanly possible to avoid bumping into him. 

You talked to any and everyone you could find, trying to ignore the fact that you could feel Patrick’s eyes searing into you, no matter what part of the room you were in. He was clearly waiting for the moment he could pounce on you once again, evidenced by the way he seemed to start going on the move whenever you stopped talking to someone. 

Somehow, you were still one step quicker than him, quickly maneuvering yourself into new conversations or inserting yourself into the conversations of others. 

You weren’t sure what Patrick so badly wanted to tell you anyway. Maybe taunt you about some new conquest he was with, or to beg you to come home with him after dinner. Unfortunately, the latter proposition didn’t sound all that bad. 

Other than your issue of avoiding conversation with Patrick, you were also facing another challenge: People trying to introduce the two of you to each other. You weren’t sure what it was that made people think that the two of you needed to meet so badly—from Patrick’s mom, who had been insisting for weeks that you meet her son, to a random cousin who happened to think that you’d like each other. You wished you could tell them that you’d already met each other, and that you’d magnificently crashed and burned. 

Briefly wanting to get away from the repetitive small talk and questions about if you’ve met the person you were in a messy situationship with, you found your way to a bathroom—but not without being followed in. 

“What the fuck?” you said immediately as the door behind you shut. 

“We need to talk,” Patrick said plainly, locking the door behind him. 

“Unlock that,” you demanded, not because you were all that afraid of your safety, but because you wanted a quick exit plan if he started to really piss you off. 

“Fine,” he conceded, unlocking the door. “But don’t act weird if someone walks in on us.”

“Walks in on us?” you laughed, parroting his words. “There won’t be anything to walk in on. I mean, you can’t seriously think I’m going to fuck you at a family dinner.”

You were about 95% sure of your words, but that other 5% was thinking about the logistics of getting your tight dress off in that small bathroom.

“I didn’t come in here to fuck you,” he explained.

“Then what are you here for?” you asked, confused about what else he could possibly want from you. 

“We need to get our story straight. I can’t have a repeat of that conversation with my mom.”

“Why does it matter? I’ll just stay away from you for the rest of the night. I’ll expect you to do the same, then there won’t be any issues.”

“That won’t work. Have you seen the seating chart for tonight?”

“Seating chart?” you scoffed. It seemed ridiculous, but it made sense. For people rich enough to create and fund scholarships, it made sense that a large dinner for friends and family members would come equipped with a seating chart. Besides, you were sure there were people with dietary restrictions in your midst. “How would I have known there was a seating chart, let alone look at it ahead of time?”

“Well, a little spoiler: you and I are sitting next to each other.”

“What the hell? Who did that?” 

“I don’t know! Stop looking at me like this is my fault.” Now that he mentioned it, you were currently glaring at Patrick. “It must’ve been my mom. I swear she’s been telling everyone that you and I need to get together. Everyone’s been telling me all night that we need to meet.”

“God, I thought it was just me. Is this a family of matchmakers or something? Or are they trying to help you out with your fear of commitment?”

“I don’t have- can you just focus instead of trying to be funny? We’re gonna be next to each other all night and people are going to be asking us questions. So what are we going to tell them?”

“You don’t want to tell them about you leading me on for months?” you asked innocently, not trying very hard to hide the contempt behind your words. 

“No, you’re right,” Patrick agreed with you, fake thoughtfulness in his tone. “Now that I think about it, maybe we should tell them about the love spell you paid some Etsy witch to put on me.”

You instantly felt your cheeks warm at the mention of such an embarrassing action.

“That was a joke and you know it.” It wasn’t a joke. It was a dark period of time for you. “So what do you suggest we tell them?”

“That we’re just friends,” he said simply. 

“They aren’t gonna be suspicious that you’ve never brought me up before?” you probed, part of you wondering the logic behind his decision, and the other part of you wondering if he’d ever brought you, his situationship, up to his friends or family. 

“Doubt it,” he dismissed with ease.

You were only a little disappointed, but not at all surprised. “So what’s the story?”

“That we met when I was visiting Stanford.”

“That’s true, though.”

“Just leave it at that. We met once or twice through mutual friends,” he directed. 

“Okay,” you shrugged. “Anything else I should know?”

“Just that you look really hot tonight,” he said, biting his lip and unabashedly checking you out. 

“Okay. Goodbye,” you didn’t bother humoring him, though his words did satisfy you. You left the bathroom and didn’t spare a glance back, even as you heard him leave a few minutes later. 

After the torture that was socializing with people whose sole purpose seemed to be setting you up with your ex fling, you’d all been summoned to sit down for dinner. Just as Patrick warned you, you sat down at a seat that was directly next to him. You wished you could switch seats with someone else, putting their nameplate next to him and hoping that no one would be any wiser, but you couldn’t see a world where that would work out for you.

Eventually, Patrick sat down next to you, clearly trying his best not to look at you too closely, lest someone catch on to the fact that you two knew each other. 

You did your best to be a fly on the wall in the conversation that the people around you were having. You poked around at your salad and wondered if you focused hard enough on the leaves, if you’d be able to disappear. 

“So, have you two had the chance to meet?” someone asked from across the table, directing the question to you and Patrick. Clearly, your plan of disappearing hadn’t worked out after all.

“Yeah! We actually know each other already,” you explained, directing a friendly smile towards whatever cousin or family friend you were speaking to. Clearly, Patrick didn’t trust your answering abilities, as he butt into the conversation before you could finish speaking.

“We have some mutual friends, so we’ve crossed paths once or twice,” Patrick clarified, attempting to give more context to your relationship. Technically, it was true. While you weren’t necessarily friends with the man who inadvertently set you up, you’d been invited to a party being hosted by some tennis player in your accounting class who played with Patrick at some point, and met at that very event. 

Despite the many partygoers, Patrick seemed instantly drawn to you, or at least, was instantly attracted to you, based on the way that he openly checked you out as he approached you. Normally, that kind of thing would make you roll your eyes and walk away, but you’d been intrigued by his looks and his shameless demeanor. If only you could go back in time to tell yourself to roll your eyes and walk away. 

“But we don’t know each other very well,” you added. That, you firmly believed was true. Patrick may have known what position made you cum quickest, but he didn’t know a thing that actually mattered about you. He probably couldn’t even tell you what your major was. 

“What a coincidence you ended up here, then,” the other man, whose name you couldn’t remember, commented. “Did Patrick help you get the scholarship?”

“What?” you tried not to sound too offended, though you very much were. You tried to remind yourself that saying the wrong thing could cost you your entire higher education, and ended up laughing off the very rude allegation. “It’s really just a funny coincidence.”

To your surprise, Patrick jumped to your defense. “Unlike you and your seat on the board, there’s no nepotism here. We met long after she already got the scholarship, which she earned. She’s one of the most dedicated students I know.”

His words surprised you. The argumentative ones calling out his relative, not so much, but you were a little impressed by the way that he stood firm on the fact that you were a good student. Sure, he witnessed you studying for midterms in your dorm room every now and then—even if at the time he’d been trying to distract you from your work to get some attention—and now that you were thinking about it, he did bring you flowers after he found out you’d made it onto the Dean’s List. 

Maybe Patrick hadn’t been all that bad of a… you didn’t even know what, after all. But that was certainly a thought you were only entertaining due to his sweet behavior he was currently exhibiting. The fact that you were a whole year out from your entanglement and still couldn’t define what the hell happened between the two of you was a testament to how much of a mess your relationship was. 

“Not that you know too many students,” his relative laughed in that stuck-up rich person's laugh they all seemed to have. You tried to ignore how you were already getting caught in family politics, getting your academic ability called into question in the crossfire of an easy insult Patrick dealt to his family member. “Pat’s too busy going around the world hitting balls. How’s that going, by the way?”

From what you’d observed in your own efforts to see what he was up to, they weren’t going great. Notably, after you’d cut things off with him, his performance decreased significantly. 

“It’s going well,” Patrick said with false confidence that you saw right through. If you could see right through it, you were sure that his family members were able to do the same. A brief glance at the woman in front of you who was clearly attempting to suppress a laugh confirmed this for you immediately. 

It was almost a little pathetic to see, watching Patrick lie so obviously to an audience that couldn’t even pretend to believe him. Seeing how he stepped in to help you out, it was only fair that you did the same for him. Even if he hadn’t done so, you were starting to become embarrassed for him.

“Have you been to any of his matches recently?” you asked, interrupting their mockery of Patrick. “He did a really great job at the French Open. I mean, even making it to the French Open is really impressive.”

Not that you’d been at any of the matches, but you occasionally Googled his name to see what he was up to. Even more occasionally, you turned on ESPN to see if you could catch any footage of him playing. But it wasn’t like you even really cared. 

Okay. You cared a little bit. 

Most of the time, you were rooting for him to fail, as is the right of all bitter exes. But now was not the time for you to share that information. Not when Patrick was looking at you like you were crazy, and his family members were eyeing you suspiciously. 

That was when you remembered that the two of you weren’t supposed to know each other very well. You instantly tried your best to cover up your tracks. “But I don’t know a lot about tennis, that’s just what our friend told me.” Considering that you hadn’t spoken to Art since Accounting 223 ended, he did not actually share this information with you.

“Huh. Do you guys talk about Patrick a lot?” you were trying your best not to fold under the skeptical look she was giving you. 

“Only when he’s doing something cool. Which isn’t very often,” it was a good save, which left the rest of the table laughing at your little dig at Patrick. You were starting to understand his family dynamic a little more, and it didn’t exactly seem like a pleasant one. 

You could practically feel his betrayed gaze searing into you, but you did your best to ignore it. You were already feeling guilt gnaw into you about hanging him back out to dry with a family who already liked to pick on him. 

“You know, that actually reminds me. You said you don’t know much about tennis, but I remember seeing you play a little bit. How’s that going?” Patrick asked you, his question obviously trying to reveal something embarrassing about you. You instantly felt the blood drain from your face at the mention of your attempt to play the sport.

Your brief stint with tennis was mainly born out of your desire to see Patrick more often. After your run-in at his friend’s party, you were determined to put yourself in the type of situations that would allow you to ‘accidentally’ run into Patrick. 

You started off simple, going to the tennis matches for Stanford’s men’s team, hoping that Patrick would eventually show up in the stands to support his friend. Despite your incessant searching of the stands, you were never able to find Patrick amongst the crowd of students, fans, and supportive family members. 

Never one to give up easily, you decided to take matters into your own hands. Maybe if you were a little sportier, Patrick would take an interest in you, reaching out to you so you wouldn’t ever have to make the first move. You spent the evening perusing sporting goods stores with your roommate, putting cute tennis outfits and equipment that you couldn’t really afford on a credit card. 

The next morning, the two of you got up bright and early to hit the tennis courts before anyone else arrived. The game seemed simple enough, but proved to be far more difficult than either of you anticipated. After half an hour of attempting to play with frankly awful technique, you decided to call it quits and do a photoshoot instead. 

Feeling satisfied with pictures that featured your best angles and the slightest hint of breeze blowing up your skirt, you decided to post your photos on social media with a caption about how much you loved tennis. That was sure to get Patrick’s attention.

Just as you’d suspected, not long after you posted, you received a message from Patrick, casually asking about how things were going with you. Your faux interest in tennis had been promptly abandoned. 

Surprised at the fact that Patrick was bringing up your very blatant bait of him, you were caught slightly off guard. “Oh, I was never really super into it,” you attempted to dismiss.

“That’s news to me,” he chuckled. “I swear, you told me about how you were super into tennis. Was that just a phase, or…?”

He eyed you mischievously, clearly challenging you to a match of whatever mind game it was that he wanted to play with you. Unluckily for him, you were in the mood to play–and win.

“Something like that. I guess I just figured out that tennis really wasn’t for me. But you know, college is a time to try out new things. See what you like, what you don’t like. And man, I really didn’t like tennis.”

Obviously, you weren’t talking just about tennis. You hoped that Patrick was able to catch onto the not-so-subtle subtext. 

“I don’t know, I thought you liked tennis a lot. Thought it was good for you,” Patrick commented casually, going back to his food before looking back at you.

“It was surprisingly pretty toxic,” you replied easily.

“Are you sure you didn’t share a part in that toxicity? With a sport like tennis, you really get out what you put in.”

“Sure, but I didn’t put in nearly as much toxicity as I was getting from it.”

“Of course you’d think that,” Patrick murmured. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“It means that you think you’re so guiltless, but you played a bigger role in… tennis not working out than you’re acting like you did.”

“Please, enlighten me on how I could’ve made tennis work out better for me.”

“I just think maybe you’re being a little too hard on tennis in comparison to what really happened.”

“Just because you have a nice racket and a little more experience than me doesn’t mean you’re an expert on how bad things were for me. Seriously, Patrick. You actually don’t have a clue about what I was going through.”

“Are you guys still talking about tennis?” someone asked with a forced laugh, breaking the thick tension at the table. There was a stiff, awkward chuckle from your fellow dinner companions. It was almost as if you’d forgotten that you were at his family’s dinner, bitterly arguing with Patrick in loosely coded language. You should have the shame to feel embarrassed, but you mostly felt agitated with Patrick. 

“Obviously,” Patrick replied. “What else would we be talking about?”

“Oh yeah. Obviously,” they said stiffly. “So like, are you sure you two don’t know each other that well?”

“We really don’t,” you quickly replied.

“Why would we lie about that?” Patrick said, your voices overlapping.

As if arguing about something that was very obviously a metaphor for your relationship wasn’t suspicious enough, this reaction certainly didn’t help your case. It was ridiculous to attempt to keep up this façade when it was becoming more and more clear to anyone at the table with eyes to see and ears to hear that you two were more than casual, mutual friends.

“Actually, we did lie. We were friends for a little while,” you confessed.

“Friends?” Patrick parroted with a scoff. He looked at you with disbelief before shaking his head. “Excuse me,” he announced before standing up and walking off from the table.

The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, which you took as your cue to follow Patrick to wherever he was sulking off to. “Sorry. Excuse me.”

The two of you said nothing as you followed Patrick out to his back patio. The fresh, cold air felt nice after a suffocating, stressful evening. As Patrick sat down on a piece of comfortable furniture, you wordlessly sat across from him.

“Just go. Back inside, back home, I don’t give a shit. I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Clearly you do,” you replied, watching him dig in his pocket for a cigarette to no avail. He finally found a loose cigarette and brought it to his lips, ignoring you as he lit it up. 

“Don’t blow it in my face,” you warned him, though you wouldn’t mind taking a drag or two from it. 

“I won’t,” he replied, words muffled around the cigarette at his lips. 

The two of you sat in silence before he spoke once more. “Do you seriously feel like we were just friends?”

“Jesus,” you laughed at the question, unbelieving that Patrick would think all of your desperate acts to try to get him to commit to you could be interpreted as anything but romantic. “Of course we weren’t just friends. But you try describing what we had to someone who wasn’t a witness to the train wreck that was our relationship.”

“We were…” he trailed off as he thought about how to describe your relationship. “Friends with benefits?”

“Sure,” you replied, though you obviously disagreed with him. “You know, this is exactly why things didn’t work out. I wanted to be with you so badly and you refused to acknowledge that we had a connection any deeper than physical until it was convenient for you.”

“Did you expect me to spell out how I felt about you when I was showing you how I felt?” he asked as if it were the most obvious question in the world.

“Actually, yes. Clearly we were not on the same page about how we felt if you thought that you were being so obvious while I was over-analyzing every single word you’d ever said to me to try to figure out how you felt about me.”

“Are you serious? You were the one who was impossible to understand. One day you wanted me to take you out on a date and hold you in your little twin sized bed afterward, and the next you didn’t want to speak to me. How was I supposed to interpret that?”

“Patrick, you were doing the same thing to me! I was just so mad at you. Like, constantly. Even though I had feelings for you. My friends were always telling me I’m an idiot for letting you treat me that way, so obviously I tried to start pushing you away. But even with everything, I still really liked you, so I couldn’t fully stay away from you,” you explained, hoping that your disjointed words would make sense to him. 

It truly was a very complicated situation. Part of you wondered if you had communicated this earlier, if things might have ended differently for you. 

Patrick seemed to be thinking deeply about your words before he spoke again. “Do you ever still think about me?”

You had two options for approaching his question. You could lie, like you hadn’t made it abundantly clear earlier that you still, at the very least, pay attention to his tennis career, or you could tell the truth and risk having your feelings hurt again. 

“Sometimes,” you confessed, going with the latter. “I’m mostly still really annoyed with the way you treated me, and the fact that I let you treat me that way. But sometimes I miss you, anyway.”

“Then let’s do things differently this time,” he proposed as if it was the best and brightest idea he’d ever had. “I miss you, too. It shouldn’t have taken us breaking up for me to realize how much I need you in my life, but it did.”

“What are you saying, Patrick?” you asked, trying to make sure that you fully understood his proposition. Was he trying to get you back?

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he spelled out for you. “I want to treat you better than I ever did before. I’ve thought about everything that went down between us, and I think that we can make it work this time if we just try to be honest with each other. What do you think?”

You were shocked at the offer. If someone had told you going into this dinner that you would end it with your former situationship asking you to be with him, you would’ve laughed in their face. Yet, his proposition, and the fact that you wanted to say yes, didn’t exactly feel like a laughing matter.

You paused as you stopped to consider your options. Your gut instinct was to say yes—you’d wanted him for so long, and he clearly wasn’t over you. You obviously had some things you needed to work through before you really made this relationship work, but the feelings were there. The more logical part of your brain was telling you to say no—Patrick had hurt you so many times before, that there was no telling if he would hurt you again. 

“Sure. Let’s try it,” you said, ignoring all of the logic in your head and fully following where the passion in your heart wanted to take you. 

You couldn’t be sure if this would end in another heartbreak for you, but you weren’t so sure that you cared either.

[luvlystarr]

.・。.・゜❃・.・❃・゜・。.

Prompt: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley and the sweetheart next door

Content: Pure fluff

I just want to say thank you so much for the support on my Ghost Grumpy x Sunshine fanfic!! I didn’t expect it to reach 1k notes and I’m so grateful that you guys enjoyed it!🤍

.・。.・゜・゜

Simon kept shuffling around his bed over and over again, unable to sleep.

It was 12 PM and he had just came back from deployment. For three week straight his body was surviving off of coffee and adrenaline. He desperately wanted to sleep but unfortunately his new neighbor was moving in.

Through the thin walls he could hear the constant movement of their feet and the dropping of multiple boxes. Simon groaned into his pillow before finally trudging towards the noises. His neighbor hasn't even fully moved in and he's fed up already. He swung his door open, glaring at the door across his, but he instantly felt regret when he saw your helpless figure trying to hold multiple boxes all at once. Beads of sweat formed on your face and your chest was heaving rapidly, it looked like you were gonna faint any minute.

You saw Simon from the corner of your eyes and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Good afternoon! I hope I’m not disturbing you or anything,” you chuckled embarrassingly.

Simon couldn’t help but adore your pretty smile and your sweet voice. All of the negative thoughts in his head flew out the window in an instant.

“It’s alright, just keep it down, yeah?”

Before you could respond, one of the boxes slipped past your hands and dropped to the floor.

A small curse left your lips as you tried picking it up and, without even thinking, Simon rushed to grab it for you.

“Oh, thank you!” You beamed at his kind gesture.

Simon felt his heart melt at the sight of your pure joy.

“No problem, I could help you with the rest if you want.”

You tried insisting that he shouldn’t bother and you got everything in control. But Simon wouldn’t let you exhaust yourself. Besides, he would do anything to see that beautiful smile of yours once more.

After half an hour all the boxes were finally inside the empty apartment. It would’ve originally taken you another hour without Simon’s help. Now all you had to do was unpack, which was less work.

You were glad that your work for the day was done but Simon wasn’t. It meant that he would have to go back and say goodbye.

“I’ll see you around, Simon!” You say before you shut the door.

Your voice echoed throughout Simon’s mind, over and over again. He stood there for a moment, almost like he was in a trance.

He snapped back to reality. His hand wiped across his face at the unusual thoughts he was having. Who would’ve thought you would have such an effect on him?

The following day Simon was greeted by a knock on the door.

He opened it and there you were, the same gorgeous smile on your face while you held a container.

“Good morning! I just wanted to give you something before I leave for work.”

You open the container and reveal a dozen heart shaped cookies.

“I made you some cookies as a thank you gift!” You beamed.

At that point Simon’s heart was completely melted because of you. He couldn’t stop the stupid grin that crept across his face.

“Thanks,” he says as he takes the container.

After he took it, you stood there for a minute, fiddling with your fingers. You looked nervous about something.

“So, um.. I was thinking if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight. I don’t have friends in the city and I really want to treat you for helping me out— as long as you’re free and okay with it of course!” You stammered. Your cheeks were a rosy hue.

Simon’s mind went completely blank.

“Yeah, I don’t mind,” he quickly replied.

Hearing his words made your smile grow even wider. Your eyes were quite literally glittering with happiness.

“It’s a date then!” You giggle in a joking manner.

If only you knew how much your words caused heart rate to spike up the roof.

・゜・。. .・。.・゜・゜・。.

[powderpinkandsweeet]

Loser Ellie x Reader

Loser! Ellie makes me drool. Like I had never thought I would be attracted to the idea of something so perverse, depraved, and almost creepy.

Wlw, loser Ellie, suggestive but not nsfw, Ellie follows you around, Owen slander.

In a University AU, Ellie is praying to anyone and everyone listening that she will be paired with you for the final project. Just her luck, you get paired with some douche named Owen who keeps eye contact with your tits more often than your eyes.

Ellie needs to work on her own project with her partner she can't recall the name of, but she overhears where and when you and Owen are going to meet to start your project. Surely you wouldn't notice if she were there?

That's how Ellie finds herself sitting on a barstool in the corner of a trendy cafe, hood pulled low over her head and peeking over the top of the comic book obscuring the lower half of her face. You and Owen sit across from one another nearly ten feet away. Ellie had to move seats in order to see your face, as it was originally obscured by Owen's big head.

She can't hear what either of you are saying, but you don't look to be enjoying your conversation.

Nearly two unproductive hours pass, and she sees you let out a sigh and shut your laptop, seemingly bringing a close to your study session. She saw you speak to Owen, who perked up and made to pack up his things. Having brought only a pencil and a small notebook, Owen was up and moving before you could give him a proper goodbye. Bracing his weight on the table and quickly rushing from the coffee shop, Owen didn't seem to notice what he had done to your unsteady table. As the bell at the door rung announcing his leave, the table wobbled, toppling over the coffee cup that Owen had left on the table, half-full.

Ellie saw the fear in your eyes as you lifted your laptop from the table as quick as you could, but you weren't able to save your notes, or your lap, from getting soaked with coffee. Unbeknownst to Owen, he had given Ellie the perfect opportunity to play hero. Ellie nearly fell flat on her face as she clambered off the barstool. Rushing to the napkin dispenser, she pulled as many as possible as quick as possible until she had two fists full. As quickly as she could while still appearing somewhat normal, Ellie made her way toward you.

You looked even prettier up close, even with tears lining your eyes and coffee staining your shirt. As you held your laptop high above the table, Ellie locked eyes with you and said "here, let me help," just loud enough that you could hear. She offered to move your laptop to a nearby table so she could clean, to which you nodded with a pathetic sniffle. Ellie haphazardly wiped the pool of coffee from the table, gingerly offering the other handful of napkins to you to wipe yourself down.

As you stand up, it becomes clear that the coffee has soaked your shirt, because Ellie can see right through the white fabric. She can't take her eyes off the lacy edges of your bra and the curves of your breasts. Having been so concerned about your laptop, you hadn't realized that you had become an unwitting contestant in the most embarrassing wet tshirt contest. Following Ellie's gaze downward, you squeaked and attempted to cross your arms over your chest to hide. Unfortunately, this only gave Ellie a better view as your arms squished your breasts together. Ellie blushed as the thought of offering to cover your breasts for you briefly crossed her mind, but then she noticed your face that blushed even redder. Your eyes were locked on the ground as you tried to come up with a way to walk home with your dignity still intact.

Instead, Ellie unzips her baggy sweatshirt and shrugs it off her shoulders. With a blush on her face and a trembling voice she says "you can take my jacket..." and the smile on your face is worth being cold on her walk home.

"Thank you so much," you beam, "but I don't know how I would return it. Would you mind giving me your number so I can let you know when it's washed and I can give it back." As much as Ellie would like you to keep the sweatshirt, she has been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get your number. If she could, she would thank Owen for spilling on you, because she'll get her hoodie back smelling like you.

"For sure, let me just..." as Ellie pulls her phone from her pocket and hands it to you. She hopes you don't care about the cracked screen as you punch in your number and send yourself a text.

"Thank you so much, you're a lifesaver. I just wish I hadn't been paired with him. I already know I'll be doing most of the work."

"No yeah I don't like him either!" Ellie spits out, rushing to agree with you and confirm your suspicions.

You try to stifle your giggle at her nervousness, and realize "wait! I haven't gotten your name yet."

Ellie locks eyes with you and suddenly she forgot how to speak. 'My name? Oh god what was it, who am I?' and stutters out a "uh, um, it's, it's Ellie... Williams. Ellie Williams."

You smile, and return the sentiment, even though she's known your name for months now. "Well, thanks for all your help, Ellie. You're a real sweetheart. I'll see you around."

Ellie nearly melts hearing her name from your mouth. She waves to you goodbye with a dopey smile on her face.

That's it, she would make the professor switch your project partners if it were the last thing she did.

[hanniebaeee]

Bittersweet

Boyfriend Lee Know x fem!reader

Warnings: A lot of crying, pregnancy and child birth, dad! Minho stealing your heart (sorry!)

Genre: angst, fluff

Summary: You feel your boyfriend, Minho, slipping away from you. You love him way too much to leave, but your current situation calls for change.

This wasn't the first time your boyfriend Minho is missing a date with you. In fact this has happened way too many times already and yet here you were, hoping it would be different this time around. But the jokes on you, because Minho wasn't there and you were eating on your own at your favorite cafe. One of the servers was your friend by now and she gave you a sympathetic smile as she placed your order on the table. Blowing the candle out, you ate in silence.

It had started raining heavily by the time you were finished. The cafe wasn't too far from your house and so you had decided to walk. It was pouring cats and dogs now. You didn't have an umbrella, so you tried to wait it out a little. But unfortunately, the rain wasn't planning on stopping.

Just as you were about to step out, the kind server came running with an umbrella.

'Oh no, thank you! How would you get home then?' You asked.

'I still have a couple of hours left here. I'll catch a ride with one of the girls.' She said. 'You get home safe, yeah?'

You nod and take the umbrella from her, thanking her. Stepping out into the freezing rain, you walk to your house as quickly as you can. Even with the umbrella, you were drenched by the time you got home. The cats were asleep in their bed in the living room. It was so quiet and cold, you felt a fit of sobs take over you, crumbling to the floor and crying silently.

You had hoped to find Minho home at least, but sadly, he wasn't. Standing up and walking to your bedroom, you change into dry clothes and get ready for bed.

It was past midnight when you felt the bed dip under his weight. He stayed silently on his side of the bed for a few minutes. He was afraid to approach you after forgetting about your date. Again. But then, you felt his warm body press against your back, his arms wrapping around you. His face is in the crook of your neck. He was crying.

'Minho, it's ok.' You said, even though it really wasn't. But you didn't want to push it. You were too tired.

'I don't deserve you.' He said, his sobs shaking his entire body.

'Hey, hey. Stop that. We'll talk in the morning, ok?' You put your hand over his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. But he cried even more as he realized that you weren't saying all those nice things you usually did.

'Are you leaving me? Is that what it is?' Minho asked, making you face him.

'It doesn't feel like you're in my life anymore, Minho.' You say sadly. 'Especially, now, when I really really need you.'

'I've been struggling a lot with... everything...nothing is going right with me. I'm exhausted all the time. I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.' Minho said, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

Then he falls silent before asking, 'What do you mean, now?'

'Minho, there is a reason I wanted to meet you today.' You say and Minho stiffens.

'I don't want to be a burden, ok? I'm telling you only because you deserve to know.' You continue, making his eyes well up again. 'Your work is your first priority. I get it. You have worked way too hard to be here now and nothing in the world should take it away from you.'

Minho shakes his head no, but you continue talking.

'I'm just really tired of being caught up in between this.'

'Baby, no. Please, no-' Minho was crying harder now, holding you tightly against his chest. 'I won't let you go. I won't. You're everything to me. I wo-'

'I'm pregnant, Minho.' Your words stun him to silence.

He pulls back to look at you clearly for the first time in a while. You did look really tired and pale.

'What?' Was all he could say.

'Yeah. I didn't know until last week. I was really sick - the nausea, the fatigue, the bloating. I didn't think I was pregnant, until I passed out at work after skipping a meal...I'm around 8 weeks in.' You say, wiping a tear from your eye before it could fall.

'Why didn't you call me?! Oh my god, you passed out??' Minho was sitting up, looking shocked.

'I called. You didn't pick up or call me back. So I told you to clear a day and meet me for dinner. You didn't show up today, did you?'

You weren't angry. That he could've dealt with. You just looked so tired and resigned, it killed him. You sit up and pull your messy hair up into a bun.

'I have made up my mind. I will have my baby with or without your help, Minho. You can walk out right now and I won't fight you. If you wanna help and be a part of our baby's life, that's ok too. But I'm done being left on read and being stood up.' You try to control the sudden surge of tears. 'You have to make up your mind.'

'No no no' Minho pleaded. 'I know that I fucked up ok? But I promise, this would be the last time! I will leave everything for you. But I won't last a day knowing that I won't come home to you again.'

'Minho...please-' You didn't have it in you to take any more disappointment.

'NO!' His voice was loud and it shook with emotion. 'No one is leaving! We're doing this together, understand? I'm going to take care of you and our baby. I'm going to be here for you. Ok?'

'Ok' You whisper, after a pause. 'That's what I want.'

'Ok' he said, cupping your cheeks in his hands. 'That's the only thing I want too.'

He leaned forward and kissed you, both of you crying.

Minho stood by his word, and you didn't find yourself having dinner or going to bed alone again. He was by your side for all your appointments and scans and he cried like a baby as he heard your baby's heartbeat for the first time.

Minho had bought a ring he wanted to propose to you with, years ago. He was just waiting for the right time - but here you were. He never thought your baby would be there to witness the wedding though. He organized a beautiful baby shower for you with just your closest friends and family. And he took this opportunity to propose to you. Of course, you said yes.

When you woke him up one night, slowly telling him that you're in pain and the moisture spilling down down legs is definitely not you just peeing yourself, he shrieked in fright.

Picking up your hospital bag and calling Chan through excited tears, Minho drives you to the hospital. He held your hand, trying to soothe your sobs as contractions ripped through you. Everything was fine until he saw your eyes roll back and you were sweating way too much.

'Too tired, I can't-' you mumble, and he's calling out to you, softly first, then it gets louder and louder before the doctor asks him to step out.

'What? Why? What's going on?' Chan holds his hand, trying to assure him that everything is alright when there is a nurse asking him to sign a form and telling him that you need an emergency C-section. His hands shake as he looks at Chan and then at the nurse, who tells him that you're alright, but you won't be able to push your baby out on your own right now.

He covers his face and cries as he thinks of all the nights you spent alone, the times he ignored you and now here you were, struggling alone yet again.

He stares at the little pink bundle in his arms, his little girl with sweet pink cheeks and lips. But his heart is still tight because he hadn't seen you yet. Later, when he was finally allowed to meet you, he wouldn't let go of you. He clung on like a koala, as Chris held your baby, watching you both with moist eyes.

It killed him to see you in so much pain, and he did everything he could to help you. From taking you to the bathroom, helping you bathe and change your clothes - Minho did everything for you. In fact he hated it when anyone else (his mum or yours) tried to do it for you. He was fiercely protective of you and it made your heart swell with love for him.

He stayed true to his word and he never left you hanging ever again.

A few months later:

You watch as the boys move around the kitchen, busy cooking. It was a free weekend for all and they decided to come and have lunch together. You were ordered to go and chill on the sofa as Minho and the boys handled the cooking.

Minho held your little girl in his arms, laughing at something Hyunjin was saying. Your daughter was fast asleep against her father's chest and he was rocking her gently. His eyes meet yours and he gives you the sweetest smile ever. You smile back at him.

This is everything you've ever wanted. And you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

a/n: I have a thing for dad!skz 💘

[ahhnini]

better things - cheater!ex! rafe cameron x reader one shot

synopsis - after rafe cheats on you, he wants a second chance. unfortunately for him, you’re onto better things now

warnings - rafe is lowkey an asshole here, arguing, cheating ( i don’t condone it!! )

word count - 1.2k

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

ask box is open!

tbh i love when my interests mix so here’s some aespa with a fic lol

divider credits - aqualogia on tumblr

initially, you had a rough time after the breakup with rafe. tissues from crying were littered all over your room, you ghosted your friends, and you’re pretty sure you sold out the ice cream from the local grocery store.

turns out, he had cheated. you should’ve known something was up when his text responses became dry, didn’t want to go out in public for dates, and was always on his phone.

when you received the text from him saying, “I need to talk to you,” you panicked. your text response however, remained calm. you both met up, he confessed he cheated on you and wanted to break things off. you tried your best keeping a poker face but he knew you too well, knowing you were about to break down. he then had the audacity to give you “one final hug” before speeding off on his bike, leaving you wallowing in your tears. he never even apologized.

now, here you are, sunbathing with a couple of your friends. it’s a small island, so you occasionally see rafe with his new girlfriend, sofia. or was it sofie? you honestly can’t remember, and that was good. you’ve moved on, healed, realized that you were only with rafe because he saw you at your weakest.

as you watch your friends go in the water to cool off from the heat, you notice a familiar blond boy walking along the beach, alone. you take a glance and lay down on your beach towel again, not paying attention to him. until he calls out your name.

you sit up, and rafe stands over you. you want to see if you can ignore him, so you just wave him off, but you hear him scoff. it was awkward, of course, your ex was standing right in front of of you after almost a year of no contact. you decide to speak up, breaking the silence, “yeah?” and he bluntly says “we…broke up,” your eyebrows furrow. “okay? what does that have to do with me?” you respond. he sighs, “can we talk in private?” “alright, make it quick”

you both walk to a more secluded area, and he begins speaking, “we broke up because of you,” he sighs. “because of me? what part do I play in your relationship?” you cross your arms, scoffing. “sofia thought I was still hung up on you, and she was right, I was,” he looks at you, there’s shame in his eyes, and guilt in his words. you couldn’t believe what he was saying. he continued, “listen, I know I cheated on you, it was a shitty thing for me to do. my head wasn’t right, and…I took you for granted.”

you roll your eyes and scoff again, “yeah, you did take me for granted rafe…you knew how much I loved you, you knew how much I cherished our relationship…for you to throw that away-” he interrupts, “I know, and i’m willing to give it another shot. if you would just let me-” it was now your turn to interrupt, “excuse me? do you know how ridiculous you sound right now? you were the one who broke my heart in the first place, and now you’re crawling back to me? i’m sorry rafe, I won’t ever get back with you. never in a million years.” he sighed, defeated.

he hated seeing you like this, so happy. after that day on the beach, he tried to talk to you again via text. and again, and again, and again, until you finally hit the block button on his contact.

your paths crossed again at the wreck, you were talking with someone, a new friend perhaps. you were smiling and giggling as you ate one of your fries. of course he noticed you first, and his heart leaped. he wanted to come up to you and strike a conversation again, but he knew he would just get shut out by you once more. he wanted to get out of the restaurant as soon as possible, so he ordered and anxiously tapped his foot while mr. carrera fulfilled his order. as soon as his number was announced, he took the bag of food and rushed to his car, not caring that he was being stared at.

it hurt his pride, of course. he knows he shouldn’t be reacting this way, he has no right to be acting this way. but god, did he miss you. he missed the way he basically had you wrapped around your finger, you were so willing to drop everything for him at the snap of his fingers. sofia wasn't the same. she set him straight, didn't enable his behavior, and he hated that. rafe always got things his way, he couldn't control sofia the way he controlled you.

word gets around fast in kildare country. it didn't take long for rafe to find out that you have someone new. he quickly came to terms that you've finally moved on. however, he wasn't prepared to see you and your new boyfriend in person so soon.

you were living your best life, your skin was glowing, and you had the best boyfriend in the world, jason. he was the juxtaposition of rafe, a breath of fresh air. you two were having brunch at the country club, watching some of the members out on the field, playing golf or also having a nice meal. as you take another bite out of your avocado toast, you see a familiar trio walk in. you really wish this island wasn't so small so you wouldn't see him that often. it annoyed you more than it bothered you. you put your toast down on the plate, then spoke to your boyfriend, "i'm gonna use the restroom," he nodded his head. you stood up from your chair and went inside the building.

while on your way to the restroom, you ran into rafe. it had been six months after you blocked him, and you resisted rolling your eyes when he waved and smiled at you. he started walking towards you, and you hoped he knew how much of a stupid decision he was making. probably not, you thought. he was now across you, and you hear him speak up, "how are you?" "fine," you say, dryly. "heard some things goin' around town." rafe says, trying to keep the conversation going. "yeah, I have a new boyfriend," your voice is monotone. "oh, does he treat you better than me?" he asks. you roll your eyes and try your best to not just walk away from the conversation.

"yes, he does, rafe. why haven't you moved on?" your voice was slightly raised, and he sighs, "you know why I haven't moved on. I need you, y/n. please-" "rafe. i've moved on. you should too." you start walking away to the restroom, and he looks at you, defeated. you knew your worth, and you knew you deserved someone better than rafe.

he took one last glance at you before going back to topper and kelce. he sighed as your words hung over him. you moved onto better things now.

[miloformula123fan]

Could you do fic for fic Toto Wolff with wife reader? Just randomly hug him to give energy, to breathe them in to relax. & Running hands through his hair to release the tension in his body. You decide how it goes. Fluff and sweet. Thanks!! :))

Okay i know you said fic, but i really needed to get back into writing, s it’s kind of a blurb instead

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

(and here's a sneaky link to my 300 followers celebration :) )

toto wolff x fem!wife!reader

So obviously randomly hugging him to give him energy

In the garage

After meetings

At home

Honestly you’d love to accompany him everywhere solely to comfort him with hugs

But unfortunately you have a job

And you haven’t signed enough ndas to accompany him to meetings

But you love his chair in the garage

Perfectly to wrap your hand around from behind

And breathe

In and out

It always helps him calm down

And then back in the hotel room

Him being as tall as he is it makes it difficult, but he lays his head in your lap and you run your hands through his hair

And with each time you run your hands through his hair you can see the tension leaving his body

and you love those small moments of making sure he feels safe and more calm

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @pear-1206

[berenwrites]

The Giveaway - Stranger Things - Steddie - G

A/N:  I’m definitely supposed to be doing other things, but this popped into my head and would not leave, so I wrote it down 💖. Hope you enjoy it. Thanks for any likes/reblogs/comments in advance – hope you are having a great week. Don’t forget to check out all the other fun entries for this month over at @steddiemicrofic.

Written for prompt: STUFF | wc: 483 | Rating G | cw: none

(Also on AO3)

The Giveaway

In the end, it wasn’t anything obviously romantic that gave them away. There was no accidental use of pet names, because Eddie did that all the time with everybody anyway. There were no lingering looks or linked hands or unfortunately timed kisses. Or if there were, no one said anything.

What outed them to their friends and extended-trauma-family was Eddie’s hair.

Contrary to popular belief, Eddie had had a hair care routine. Well, ‘care’ might have been going a bit far, but he had known how he wanted his hair to look and how to do it. He had stuff he washed it with, stuff he put in it, and a very abused comb he used to add volume when needed. However, Steve had tried to run his fingers through Eddie’s locks the previous day as they made out, become horribly stuck, and declared that would not do.

Eddie had thought his boyfriend was kidding, but not for long. As it turned out, Steve was very serious when it came to hair. When Eddie had protested, Steve had tried bitching at him, which admittedly Eddie found incredibly hot, but this was his hair, so he’d still held out. It had been the puppy eyes he hadn’t been able to resist. After that, he’d let Steve do what he liked.

“What did you do to your hair?” Dustin demanded the moment Eddie walked into the BBQ at the Byers new house.

“Um … washed it,” Eddie tried.

Even he had to admit Steve had worked magic. Not that he expected Mike to walk right up to him and grab a strand.

“It’s soft!” was the boy’s incredulous opinion, even as Eddie smacked the kid’s hand away.

Dustin stepped into his personal space and sniffed, eyes going wide.

“That’s Farrah Fawcett spray,” Dustin said very loudly. “You let Steve do your hair.”

As if on cue, Steve walked into the backyard. They’d come separately so as not to arouse suspicions yet. As it was, many eyes turned on him.

“Why did you let Steve do your hair?” Lucas asked.

“As if that isn’t obvious,” Erica commented as she walked past.

Eddie sent Steve a ‘help me’ stare. Like the knight in shining armour he was, Steve immediately walked over.

Since the spring break disaster, Eddie had become very good at speaking Steve, so when his boyfriend sighed and lifted an eyebrow at him, he knew exactly what it meant. They had talked about when and how to let everyone in on their secret after all. With his heart beating in his throat, he gave a small affirmative shrug back.

Ever a man of action, Steve leaned in, threaded his fingers through Eddie’s hair and kissed him, before pulling back with a smile. He then levelled his bitchiest ‘I dare you’ glare at the boys. Eddie was too busy melting inside to worry about anyone’s reaction.

[ananxiousgenz]

in honor of my birthday: have a malevolent fic!! it's shitty, but it's complete!! and because you wanted to be tagged: @lighthouseshepard <3

John's time as Arthur's arm and eyes had prepared him for a lot of things that came with being human. The sensation of touch, for one. How to use muscles and nerves to move limbs and interact with the surrounding world. How to determine direction. How to use force. How to describe things effectively and how to apologize for wrong-doing (sort of).

He’d figured out a lot more after the successful completion of the ritual that granted him his own body. Walking. Running. Jumping. Handwriting. Hugs and handshakes and nearly all of the other casual and not-so-casual ways humans made physical contact with each other, kissing included (with Arthur, no less, but that was a story for another time). Smells and sensations and which ones he liked and which ones he didn’t (the smell of clean laundry was a yes, but the feeling of sand on his feet was a big NO). He was still getting the hang of etiquette and social cues, although secretly he felt like he was never going to fully understand them. But on the whole, John felt like he had figured out a lot of what it took to be human.

But never this. Never hair.

John stood in the tiny bathroom of the apartment they shared, examining his dripping hair in the mirror. It was….. nice, he supposed. In appearance, at least. The color suited him, a deep coal black  that suited his warm brown skin perfectly, and when it wanted to cooperate with his efforts to style it, it looked positively regal. Only when it wanted to, of course. It was the styling part that had been causing him problems. Actually, it was the whole taking-care-of-it-in-addition-to-styling thing that had been causing him problems for the past few months.

Arthur had always kept his own hair short and neat, and even when he had been without a barber for several months between the Dreamlands and Addison, his hair never grew farther than slightly past his jaw, shaggy and uneven. His hair was easy to take care of. A little soap, some water, perhaps a comb and pomade when they could get it, and he looked just fine. 

John’s hair, on the other hand, was long and thick, falling in neat waves past his shoulders with a slight curl at the ends. He and Arthur had both been surprised when his new body had hair like that. According to Arthur, men typically kept their hair short all their lives and offered to take John to a barber, but he refused. John had never had to take care of long hair before, but decided to give it a try. Arthur offered what little advice he had picked up from his time with Bella and what he knew from taking care of Faroe, but he wasn’t much help, so John was left to figure things out on his own.

Unfortunately, he quickly discovered that long hair was a nuisance. It frizzed at the slightest provocation, leaving John looking like he had just touched a live electrical wire. It tangled in the breeze and got caught in his shirts and his mouth, which he found utterly disgusting. When he woke from a nightmare (which was more often than he cared to admit), it would be knotted and tangled beyond belief like a bramble patch had decided to grow on his head. Washing and brushing it all out took longer than he had patience for. He supposed he could chop it short like Arthur had suggested, but the thought of anyone taking scissors to his hair made him feel sick to his stomach. 

Not to mention, Arthur had decided that they were going out to dinner tonight, and while John did enjoy being able to talk to people outside of Arthur, he did not particularly enjoy being the center of attention. People staring at him and whispering to each other always set his teeth on edge. He should be used to it by now. He was a big man, taller than most people, and his eyes were a peculiar shade of brown that turned yellow in the sunlight. It was a bit hard for him to blend in. But unwanted attention, whispers and points and stares, made him feel like the King again, and that made him feel powerful and powerful made him feel…nauseous. And messy hair, as he had already figured out, would only exacerbate that attention.

So, he was stuck here, in their tiny, shitty bathroom, his hair more wet and knotted than rope on a sailboat, trying to figure out how to get it to lay nicely on his head after a wash.

He supposed the best place to start was trying to detangle the knots. John took a deep breath in, picked up the comb that had been lying on the counter next to the sink, and began to try to pick some of the larger knots apart.

You eat the elephant one bite at a time. Just start with this side. The ends of this section of hair. Put the teeth of the comb in, and……

John hissed and dropped the comb. That fucking hurt. Felt like he was trying to tear his damn scalp off. He could even hear strands of hair snapping as he tried to ease the knot out. He stood for a moment, staring at his reflection in the mirror, trying to will the pain to disappear.

Okay. While that did hurt like hell, he wasn't about to give up so quickly. Deep breath. Comb in hand again. Same knot. Try it again.

“Fucking- ow, ow, ow, ow, OW.” The comb was stuck. On reflex, John yanked at it, sending a wave of pain across his scalp. This time, hot, stinging tears began to prickle across his vision, mingling with the water dripping from his hair.

“Jesus Christ,” John muttered, looking at the pained expression fluttering across his face in the mirror. There was some desperate emotion beginning to bubble up inside him that he tried to press down. He had to calm down. He couldn't overreact. It was just hair, after all. Nothing worth getting truly upset over. But just beneath the surface, that feeling continued to roil and churn, like a covered pot a few degrees away from boiling over no matter how John tried to turn down the heat.

Okay. He could do this. It was gonna be fine. Ignoring the dull roar of his emotions and ache in his lip from where he was nibbling on it, he grabbed the comb again, still stuck in his hair. It didn't budge. He tugged at it again, but still nothing happened. John let out a deeply frustrated huff and tugged at the comb one final time. 

Between the sweat building on his palms and the water from his hair, his grip on the comb slipped. John's hand shot out and slammed into the mirror, and oh Jesus fucking Christ. 

The mirror, in response to the impact, shattered, sending spiderweb cracks skittering across its surface in every direction.

John inhaled and froze. He stared for a moment at his fractured reflection. A dozen slices of himself stared back, looking wide-eyed, wet, and disheveled, a comb still hanging from the ends of his hair. A monster in a funhouse mirror. A part of his brain dimly wondered if this was how Arthur saw him sometimes, when he couldn't see beyond the bits of the King that still lived within him, terrifying and awful and incomprehensible.

The emotion in John's chest finally bubbled over and began scalding its way up his throat.

He yanked the comb out of his hair, taking the whole knot with it but he couldn't give a fuck about the pain anymore, and threw it against the floor as hard as he could. It snapped as it hit the tile. The emotion had made it past his throat and was now burning behind his eyes as John leaned back against the wall and slumped to the floor. Hot tears began racing their way down his cheeks. John buried his face in his hands and let them come.

He felt nauseous. He felt like a fucking failure. He felt like he should turn around and leave, and never let Arthur see his sickening, monstrous face again.

He was on the verge of getting up and doing just that when the bathroom door creaked open.

“John? Are you alright? I heard some noises and I just wanted to check-” Through his fingers, John could see that Arthur had poked his head into the bathroom. There was a second of silence as he took in the broken comb and mirror and John, curled up with his back against the wall.

“Jesus Christ, John, what happened?” 

John didn't answer. His chest was still too thick with hot emotions and his eyes still burning with tears.

“John, are you alright? Please talk to me.”

John let out a shaky breath, but still said nothing. There was a pause before Arthur said anything else.

“Oh- John, your hand, it's bleeding a bit. Here, I'll patch it up.”

His hand was bleeding? John's brow furrowed from behind his hands. The pain hadn't even registered over his panic and frustration. Suddenly, there were cool fingers on his wrist, moving the injured hand away from his face and out into the light. John saw that Arthur was now crouched on the floor in front of him, examining his hand for a moment. He used his free hand to wipe some of the tears from his face. He didn't want Arthur to think he'd been crying, especially not over something as stupid as his hair.

Then those cool fingers were moving a lock of still-mostly-wet hair out of John's face and  tracing along his jaw before coming to rest just beneath his chin, gently but firmly forcing him to tilt his gaze up to meet Arthur’s.

There was no judgment in Arthur’s bright eyes. Just faint curiosity and gentle concern. “Come on now, John. What happened?”

“I- I tried to- I couldn't…. Nothing. It was nothing,” John said quietly, averting his gaze back to the floor.

Arthur raised an eyebrow as he stood. “I don't call a broken mirror, a snapped comb, and a bloodied hand ‘nothing’.”

“It was nothing you need to worry about. I'll pay for a new comb and mirror.”

“John, you and I both know that's not what I'm getting at,” Arthur huffed, grabbing antiseptic and a bandage from the medicine cabinet. “What happened? Was it an accident or purposeful? That's all I'd like to know.”

“I told you it was nothing. It's fine. I can handle it myself,” John rumbled, trying to inject as much warning as he could into his tone.

Arthur paused his rummaging in the cabinet and looked at John over his shoulder. “There's a difference between independence and forcing yourself to suffer because you think you don't deserve or need help, you know. I learned that difference the hard way.”

John was silent for a minute. 

“It's just… it's stupid. It’s so fucking stupid,”  he muttered. Just saying those words renewed the burning in his chest, throat, and eyes.

“Tell me anyway.” 

“I…. You’re going to think I’m an idiot.”

“I solemnly swear, I will not think you’re an idiot. No matter what you tell me.”

“I… I was trying to make my hair look nice for dinner tonight, okay? I washed it and was going to brush it out, but the fucking comb got stuck in my hair. And when I tried to pull it out, my hand slipped and hit the mirror and-” John's throat began to close with the frustration still boiling over on that stove in his chest. He realized there were more tears slipping down his face and desperately tried to wipe them away.

“Hey. John. Look at me. It's just a mirror and a comb, alright? They're both easily replaced, and-”

“No, I don’t care about the broken shit, okay? That's not it! It’s me I’m upset about. I feel so fucking stupid and clumsy and helpless,” John burst out. “It's just brushing my hair! I should be able to do it on my own! But I'm like a fucking toddler who can't do anything! I can’t take care of this body, I can’t interact with people well, and I can barely control my own fucking emotions! It's just complete bullshit!”

The words hung heavily in the air, and John was on the verge of tears again, his breathing sticky and shallow. Arthur was quiet for a minute, biting his lip in thought as he began to clean the myriad of small cuts on John's hand. 

“I don’t want to make you feel worse about being able to accomplish things on your own, but can I help you with your hair? Only if you want, of course. But I might be able to help get some of the knots out more easily. I could show you how to do it so it won't hurt as much,” Arthur asked carefully as he wrapped a bandage around John's knuckle.

“I guess,” John muttered.

“Okay then,” Arthur said, picking up the two halves of the comb up off the floor and placing them in the garbage. “I have a spare comb in the cabinet somewhere… ah, here it is. I have a hairbrush here, too…”

As Arthur searched, John silently moved away from the wall, making space for Arthur. After a moment, Arthur was standing behind him, using his hands to gently pull apart some of the knots towards the ends of John’s hair before raking the comb through. Somehow, in Arthur’s hands, it felt like a feather being swept through his hair. John had used too much force. He always used too much force.

John closed his eyes and gently leaned into the sensation. It felt lovely, a gentle push and pull, like waves lapping gently at the shore of a lake, or like a slow dance, the kind he and Arthur did sometimes on a lazy Sunday morning. He could stay here forever, he thought, sitting on the tile floor, Arthur brushing out his hair. But the longer he sat, the brighter the question brewing in John’s mind that he wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Not that it was a question he himself could answer. 

The question went along these lines: he knew he must be horrible to live with. His temper was thin, and liable to be set off at the slightest upset. He lashed out when he got scared or nervous instead of talking. He said horrible things and rarely apologized for them. He was working on it, just like he was working on everything else that came with being human, but he still knew he was not an easy person to be around. And yet, despite all of it, the broken mirrors and sharp words, Arthur still stayed. Arthur still helped him, still loved him, still treated him gently despite all the hurt he undoubtedly caused. 

What John wanted to know was this: why? 

Arthur was talking, John realized, and had been for a minute or two.

“Next time, try it like this, alright? Pull some of the more difficult knots apart with your fingers before using the comb or hairbrush. It seems as though it’ll keep your hair a bit more intact than-”

“Why?” John blurted.

Arthur sounded confused. “Well, because you don’t want to actually rip the tangles out of your hair. I think that would be pretty painful-”

“No, no, not about the hair. Why… why are you helping me? Why do you care?”

John finally opened his eyes and turned slightly to look at Arthur’s face. He looked nearly as confused as he sounded. His brow was furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned slightly down as he crouched down to eye level with John.

“Why do I care?” he repeated.

John nodded. “I’ve caused you so much trouble. Even from the beginning, I… I killed Parker. I got you involved in all of this supernatural mess. I’ve yelled at you. Said horrible things to you. Done horrible things to you. But you haven’t left me. You still care for me. Why?”

“John.” Arthur’s face had softened completely. “I would never leave you.”

“Huh. I would leave me,” John muttered.

“Well then, thank your lucky stars you’re not me,” Arthur replied, standing back up and returning to John’s hair.

“Believe me, I thank them every day. I do not miss that frail, twig-like body of yours. You could break a bone if the wind hit you the wrong way.” 

“May I remind you I’m still the one helping you brush out your hair, and I can leave at any time.” 

“Ugh. Alright, fine, I’ll play nice.”

“That’s a good boy.”

Ignoring the wave of heat the final comment brought up his neck and over his ears, John tried to return to the point. “You didn’t answer my question, Arthur.”

Arthur stopped brushing John’s hair and let out a small sigh. “You said you want to know why, right?”

John nodded again.

Arthur was silent for a long moment, his brown eyes growing warm and thoughtful. “I stay with you because of something I learned a lot about over the course of our time together: ‘Life is about survival. Love is about life with others.’ I’ve spent so long surviving on my own that it’s nice having someone else to survive with, and I don’t want to lose that. Even if you think you’re not worthy of it, even if you have caused me problems or hurt me in the past, I stay because I… I love you. I love you a terribly great deal. I stay because I want to see you survive, too, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that happens.”

“Oh. Okay.” John’s heart felt like it might explode in his chest from all the tenderness he felt for Arthur. “I love you, too.”

Arthur smiled softly. “Let’s finish your hair, shall we? We’ve got a dinner we’re going to be late for.”

John smiled back and nodded. 

The world was difficult and complicated, and John still didn’t understand a lot of it. He knew there was still a lot for him to learn. But there was one thing he knew for certain: love gave life its color and purpose. And if love meant survival with others, then he could survive with Arthur. All of the tangled hair and shitty combs and frustration in the world wouldn’t be able to stop him from surviving with the man he loved who also loved him. He would do it with pleasure for the rest of his days. 

[ghostsy]

Monsters are Made

yandere ! MAHITO x READER

WARNINGS: yandere, slight misogyny, gore-ish, kind of unhinged reader lol

A/N: I hate you Mahito, leave me alone now, and get out of my head pls and thank you

read at your own discretion.

❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈

On my Gothic literature bullshit again, but thinking about Frankenstein’s Monster Mahito absolutely infatuated with his Creator.

But it’s not the result of some freak accident that he lives, not borne out of blind or selfish ambition. Selfish maybe, but selfishness in the name of love. The poor Doctor’s husband had fallen ill, and left her to face the big bad world all on her lonesome. And what’s an intelligent woman to do with easy, disposable modern science at her fingertips?

Well, she robs her dear husband’s grave, of course, determined to bring him back to life, bring him back to her. She reasons that maybe she should have known; play with fate and it plays back. She’ll shove that feeling, that off something to the depths of her soul when staring into eyes so familiar because she knows those eyes, those open eyes. 

The thought, stubborn as it is, sticks to the walls of her mind because when he’d blinked up at her, a pretty ocean blue returning to that glazed over film, wasn’t the color of one of his eyes just a shade off? 

Nevertheless, she’ll spend the next few months reintroducing him to the things he once knew, the things he once loved. And it’s awkward at first, with the unnatural jerking of his limbs whenever he walks or the sharp click of his jaw when he talks, voice still gravelly from the days it spent swallowed by the dirt. 

But they’ll settle into a new normal, and even though he’s different, even though he spends his time pouring over books in the library when before he’d never so much as glanced twice at the novels, even though he finds unique fascination in her scientific endeavors when she’s sure he used to squeal so girlishly at the mere sight of blood, he’s still him. He’s him because who else could he be? 

And slowly, there’s a shift in the air.

Because when he grins excitedly at her over the dinner table, eager to discuss the latest novel he’d finished, she can’t help but find his interest endearing. There’s something sort of charming about this newfound, near childlike, obsession with life. And it’s flattering almost, that he hovers dutifully beside her in her laboratory, ready to aid in any new experiment she may have. 

He knows when to play the part of the attentive assistant, and when to ask his questions. His peculiar fascination with anatomy is a little disconcerting when he innocently asks her, “Is everything red inside?” but she can’t very well scold him for displaying the natural curiosity of a true scientist. Something she’d been ridiculed for twice-fold due to her so-called unfortunate womanhood.

No, she wouldn’t stifle these new sides of him. Perhaps death had simply opened up parts of him that lay dormant before. However, one thing that remained, intensified even, was his complete and utter devotion to her. 

He often returns from the gardens caked in dirt with flowers ripped from the roots as a daily gift, a routine show of affection, as he put it. The first time he’d shoved them in her face he’d exclaimed, “I didn’t know dead things could still be so colorful,” With his blinding smile, “Beautiful, don’t you think?” And she can’t help but agree, when she lets her eyes roam him up and down, yes, beautiful. 

When at night, he’ll wrap himself around her, arms tight with nearly inhuman strength, face buried in the crook of her neck, and whispering unsettling things as if they were the most sacred of love poems, she lets herself appreciate how creative his adoration is when he tells her, “If my heart still beat, it would surely spell your name in its rhythm,” It’s alright that what follows is, “I’d rip the heart from any chest that dare beat too close.”

She makes sure to impart on him the importance of secrecy; that she’d surely be burned at the stake for witchcraft should the townspeople find him, her sin against nature. A woman in science is only just barely tolerated, and even though before her husband had been supportive and understanding of her profession, she finds a sort of heat bubbling below her stomach when this new version of him now responds to her discrimination with white hot rage.  

“Should I gut them end to end, my dear?” And he looks at her so tenderly, “Or, if you’d prefer,” Even though the months have not warmed his freezing hands, she nearly melts when his fingers, shaking with excitement, brush against her cheek, “I suppose the lab could use fresher test subjects, hm?”

She wishes she could stay with him forever like this. Within the confines of the Manor spending their days exploring and discovering and creating. Her husband reborn was strange and different and utterly terrifying in the most exhilarating of ways. She’d never felt more alive when looking into eyes so dead.

But all good things must come to an end, she supposes. Be it carelessness in the form of an undrawn curtain or unluckiness in too curious passersby, but the ominous banging at the Manor doors one stormy night sinks her heart in her chest.

They come in all at once, pitchforks drawn and torches waving, and for a moment time stands still. Because the vile things they scream, the deadly weapons they wield, seem so trivial when she catches sight of his face, eyes widened with violent glee, and a smile so furiously bloodthirsty she nearly feels bad for them. Nearly.

And it's less than a second later that an explosion of innards paint the walls of the Manor blood red. She doesn’t quite know what happened when she sees him across the room dripping crimson syrup from head to toe, and try as she might, she can’t bring herself to truly care. Because really, there were no innocents among the casualties, and when he turns to meet her gaze, she doesn’t see anything but reverence in his eyes as he awaits her reaction, her judgment. 

And as she studies him, his mismatched eyes, his sharpened claw-like nails, his stitched together limbs and muscles that flex with too much power, she can’t help but find this Monster in her husband’s skin completely and utterly perfect. 

“Death looks so beautiful on you,” She’ll tell him, and in a second he’s in front of her again, hands cradling her face, and smearing her already bloodied face an even darker red, “But you’ve left me with nothing but scraps.” As she gestures to the shreds of skin and blood that decorate their floors, his expecting expression turns mischievously joyful. 

“And how shall I make it up to you, my dear?” His breath is cold against her face.

“Well, I’m a scientist, after all,” Lips brushing against his, “I have more than a few ideas.”

[penwieldingdreamer]

Puppy Issues and Money Problems

Wow, oh my gosh. Thank you everyone for the likes, comments and reblogs. It's been a while since I had so much fun writing and gotten so many notes on a story. This is another one for the Austin thing.

Again, I tried to keep the appearance and description of the reader as vauge as possible, so you guys will be able to come up with your own picture for the reader, only thing I pictured it's a female reader, living in London with her british mother and american father, single mother of two girls Lottie (5) and Millie (3), and two years older than Austin.

Summary: Did Austin start to have feelings for you? Well, he's not too sure, but to you he's a great friend keeping your kids occupied - unfortunately with puppies - and your ex keeps messing up your plans.

Words: 1,9k

Warnings: fluff, some swear words, maybe a few tippos - if so, please let me know

Happy reading and enjoy. And please let me know what you think, if you want to be tagged or taken off the taglist for this.

Tagging: @sqrlgrl22 @buckysteveloki-me @rlinda6 @imusicaddict @fortheloveoffanfic @unicoreads

Aug. 2022

“You like her.”

It wasn't a question, more a statement. He was on a FaceTime call with Kaia, finally having wrapped his day filming when he saw the picture you posted. 

It was Lottie's birthday, so he called her while on his break. Austin was in his costume and feared that your eldest was going to scream when she saw him. He had told them that it was only for.the movie and they shouldn't be frightened but he wasn't too sure at first.

And scream she did, “Aus! Mummy look, it's Austin! He looks really cool and scary.”

His blackened teeth showed when he smiled at the screen, happy to see the girls and you again. It had been a few weeks, usually Lottie would take your phone and send pictures or videos of you cooking and dancing to Elvis or when Millie got a new toy dog and wanted to show him.

“Are you taking good care of yourself?” you asked him, seeing the tiredness reflect in his eyes. Even with his costume and great acting, you knew he wasn't completely okay.

Nodding his head, he was glad you were a friend he could talk to as well. “I do, Florence took me around Budapest yesterday.”

You hummed contentedly, your hands brushing Lottie's curls from your eyes and pulling Millie closer to you. “That's good, Aus, I'm glad to hear that. I'll leave you with the girls, I need to get back to work.”

“Don't work too much, I only ever see you working when Lottie's on the phone.”

“That's because usually those two are making sure my phone gets charged regularly.”

Chuckling, Austin shook his head at your joke. You walked out of the screen and he was left with your girls.

Florence, Zendaya and Timothée had found him amidst all the other actors and extras in the mess hall, laughing and talking on the phone.

“You know, it's kind of disturbing seeing him smile while in costume. He's such a cream pie and then he switches to being a psychotic murderer.” Florence told them, her eyebrows scrunched together as they made their way over to their co-star. 

“Yo, Aus, what's got you all smiling?” Timothée called his fellow actor as they sat down with him. They could see two little girls on the screen talking animatedly about something or other. He knew Austin didn't have kids so they must have been his sister's kids. “Those your nieces?”

Looking up, he grinned at the three and shook his head. “No, they're my friend's girls. Wanna say hello to my friends, girls?”

He saw them nod eagerly and turned his phone to Zendaya, Florence and Timo. The blonde actress crossed her hands over her heart. “Oh my, you guys are so sweet.”

Lottie and Millie were waving at them, broad grins on their faces. “It's my birthday today.”

A chorus of Happy Birthday sounded from his fellow actors and he couldn't help the warmth spreading in his belly. He knew he was friendzoned and he had a girlfriend back in Los Feliz, but he had to admit that whenever he talked to the girls he hoped to have a few minutes with you as well.

Now Austin was looking at Kaia's face and knew that she wasn't just talking about Lottie. "You know she's just a friend and I adore those girls to bits.”

“I know you do, they are cute and if I didn't have a lot on my plate right now I'd fly over and visit them. But Austin, babe, you got to be honest here.”

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Thank god that bald cap was off for today. “I am, Kaia. We're friends, nothing more.” His voice was low and raspy from tiredness. 

“You sure?” 

“Yes.” No. “Besides, she's made it clear that I'd have no chance with her, no way in hell. Said she was too old and had two kids.” 

Humming, the model leaned back on her couch, watching him closely. “I miss you, babe.”

“Miss you, too. I'll be in London with Baz and then back in LA for the Governor's. I'd love to see you either way. “How's prep for the series going?”

She smiled at him and he saw the giddiness in her eyes. This was why he fell in love with her, her friendly, eager and lovable persona. “It's good, everyone's super nice and giving me tips. I really love working on that show.”

“Great, I'm glad to hear that.” Thinking back on why they actually had that call he was going to stop thinking about you like that. As he had told Kaia, you really were adamant about just being his friend with the girls taking a liking to him. He had a girlfriend he was proud of and hella in love with.

“Mummy? Can we get a puppy?” 

So why did the image of your daughters and you send warmth cursing through his system?

It was a repeating cycle with Lottie and Millie constantly begging you for a puppy dog. Ever since they had seen Kaia and Austin with Milo they wanted one as well. You sat at your desk working on a new blog article about a new recipe you had tried not too long ago. 

Good thing about your job as a freelancer was, you could work from home. Your oldest was going to start school in a week and Millie was still in Kindergarten so you wanted to focus on them and not be off to work and load those two rascals onto your parents. 

You'd get asked to write a blog or articles for a smaller newspaper. The pay was good and you had the time to work on your own blog as well, which you supposed,  was more of a hobby blog instead of something super serious. You started out as a family friendly blog then turned it into a Mom blog and now it had everything from your day to day life, talking about food, travel and family.

“Baby, I talked to you about that. We can't have a puppy yet. You need to go to school and I need to work as well.”

Her eyebrows creased and her lips pushed together in a tight line as Lottie fixed you with an angry look. “But Austin said if I'm a good girl I'd get a puppy.”

“No baby, he said if you're a good girl and ask me you might get a puppy. There's a huge difference in that statement.” You breathed out a sigh, getting back to the text you were writing.

She stomped her little feet and crossed her arms over her chest. “But I've been a good girl for years. You always tell me later, later. I want a puppy now.” 

God, Butler. Next time I'll kill you.

“We don't have the time for a puppy, Charlotte. That's final.” You hated being the harsh, mean parent but it wasn't going to work out if you started with Well, not right now, after you finished first grade. She was going to keep asking for a puppy for another few weeks.

Wide eyes and a trembling chin were the answer before she ran to her room, feet stomping loudly on the hardwood. “I'm going to call granny and tell her everything!” Her call was followed by the slam of her door.

Great.

Next time you keep talking about a puppy with the girls, you'll be the one dealing with the aftermath. 🫠

You knew he wasn't going to answer, being all around the world and filming Dune: Part 2 but you felt satisfied to give back some of his medicine. The last time Austin had been in London there was no time to meet up, so he sent them both a mini version of Kaia’s dog and promised Lottie and Millie to have her there to show Milo to them. Told them, if they were listening to you and talking with you about it, they might get a real puppy dog. Obviously that one backfired and you got the brunt of it.

Of course Lottie’s tantrum wasn’t the only thing keeping you from writing your article. Just as you thought the day couldn’t get worse.

Had an emergency at work. Don't cash the check.

You've got to be kidding me.

Fuming you instantly dialed Trevor’s number, already feeling your stomach churning from the anger towards your ex partner.

He was making things too fucking difficult for you. The dial tone always had bile rising up at the prospect of talking to him, conditioned like Pavlov's dog.

“Trevor! What the actual hell. You promised this time.”

“I know, but there was something at work and I needed the money.”

Closing your eyes, a deep sigh left your lips. Honestly, it sounded more like a groan than pushing actual air from your mouth. “God damn it. You know it's Lottie's birthday. She wanted to go to football camp this weekend and I already made the payment with the check. How am I supposed to actually pay for that.”

“Well, you could have waited before you started giving out big presents like that.” He mocked, annoyance coloring his voice and you could literally feel the eye roll through the phone. 

Your thumb and forefinger pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to remain calm was pretty hard right now and you wondered why you ever gave him the time of the day let alone have two kids with him. “You know what? If you were actually decent at keeping to the schedules we set up and being a good father I wouldn't always have to tell the girls excuses why their dad can't come to any of their FUCKING parties or recitals! 

Especially when you're supposed to pay child support because you didn't want them after all and just up and left. It's the third time now in the last two months and I've had it with your excuses.”

“And I fucking told you all the time that those were emerg”

“Work emergencies my arse! Did you fuck your secretary and got her pregnant as well?”

Trevor growled but you could hear a soft gasp. Of course she was there. Alice, his secretary at his office and the reason he left when Millie was only six months. “That's none of your fucking business. You went on dates as well after we broke up, so don't go blaming me if you're frustrated right now. You're blowing this money problem out of fucking proportions. I always paid on time, but I have some financial problems at the moment so you should give me some credit.”

God damn this man.

“I'm not going to give you credit for something you're supposed to do. I'll have my lawyer reach out to you, so you better be able to pay every god damn penny.”

You gave him no chance to answer, hanging up the instant you heard Trevor take a deep breath. “What a fucking tool.”

Told them they needed to talk to you about it. 🙃 Never promised a puppy, but if you want, I can talk to them. A😜

You'd be a lifesaver. They've been little gremlins ever since. 

I'll be done before they're off to bed. Call me and I'll talk to them both about the puppy issue.

“MUMMY! Can we get pancakes for dinner?”

Leaning back in your chair, you groaned deeply. You loved your girls but sometimes you just wanted a break - and a dad for them who'd take them off your hands.

Divider: @cafekitsune

[haikyu-mp4]

Applying with Hoshiumi! I’m outgoing and driven

hello dear anon, anyone who requests Hoshiumi is an immediate hire;)

Got your back

Hoshiumi is your coworker and protects you from a rude customer, for the now hiring! event

word count; 445 – f!reader

Your day was going so well. The boss had accidentally put more than enough people on shift for the busy hours in the cafe, the customers were mostly behaving and, most importantly, Hoshiumi had complimented your baking after stealing a little something for his lunch break. Everything was great.

Of course, your ex chose this day to come in and sour your mood. You didn’t even see him until he was at the register, and the smile felt like it was slapped off your face. He smirked, raising an eyebrow and leaning one hand on the counter to tell you what he wanted to order.

Even though you felt uncomfortable, you followed normal procedure and finished his order, suspicious of why he hadn’t said anything nasty yet. After handing the to-go cup with the order details on it over to Hoshiumi and smiling weakly at how his fingers brushed against yours, you turned away from him completely to shake off the nerves and take a deep breath. The show must go on.

The peace didn’t last. You had pretty much recovered when a familiar voice rang out and your ex seemed to be walking quickly towards you. He harshly put the cup down and you cringed, glancing at the next customer in line who took a step back. “This coffee tastes like shit,” he complained, and the way he said it made you imagine some unruly dog baring its teeth. “Make me another one!”

You held your breath when it looked like he might throw the coffee at you, but your ex froze on the spot when a shrill voice came from beside you and a white head of hair popped out from behind the coffee machine. “hUH?”

The breath you held slowly eased between your lips and you focused on Hoshiumi instead, bold as ever as he glared up at your ex. He was much shorter, but his unyielding confidence made him seem as immovable as Hirugami when they played volleyball.

“Do you have a problem with my coffee?” he asked, nose scrunched up in disapproval.

“You- You made this?” your ex stuttered, eyebrows furrowed as he picked the coffee back up. He pointed at you while still looking at Hoshiumi. “Not her?”

Hoshiumi scoffed and looked at you. “Do you know him?” he asked.

“Unfortunately,” you said under your breath.

“You’re holding up the line, so I suggest you leave if there’s no real problem,” Hoshiumi concluded, clapping you encouragingly on your back as your ex angrily hurried out of the restaurant. He would probably return at some point, but it was easier to get into your groove knowing Hoshiumi had your back.

masterlist

[emswritingsstuff]

How about a Daryl Dixon x male!reader fic where they’re already dating but because of Daryl’s upbringing, he was scared of openly being with the reader and it takes someone else flirting with the reader for Daryl to be like “Fuck off, he’s my man” (with Rick being the most supportive ofc because I support their brotherly bond)

i had so much fun with this. i got a little carried away with this request but i was ITCHING to add relationship lore, so i did. hope you enjoy!!

--

Charming Man (Daryl Dixon x Male! Reader)

Slight Warnings: Unsupportive family, Daryl's dad mentioned, Homophobia, nothing explicit but it's there!

WC: 3.2K

--

Your relationship with Daryl Dixon was something that even caught you by surprise. You’ve both known each other since everything started, meeting at the Quarry. If you were being honest with yourself, you’d always had a thing for Daryl. Even if he did seem to be the stereotypical rude and offensive redneck. 

Daryl wasn’t like that though, the exact opposite actually. But Merle Dixon on the other hand? He totally was. You never hid your identity, what was the point of that anymore? There's no harm in it, people have bigger issues than gay people nowadays. But unfortunately, Merle always made sure to get a rude comment in. But it was always met by a big slap or hit from Daryl. Which would then cause Merle to turn the ridicule onto Daryl, which you hated. But he took it like a champ so you didn’t have to, which you admired a lot. Defending someone you barely knew like that? It was oddly attractive to you. But you pushed that down, not wanting to create more unwanted tension within yourself. 

After Merle's disappearance, Daryl seemed to shift. You’d found him getting closer to you, emotionally and physically. It made you happy to see him finally open up, it just sucked that he had to lose his brother to let it happen.  

Just observing him, you had also realized that when he was angry or frustrated with the group he would confine in you. It seemed like you had some sort of spell on him, which you definitely got in your own head about. 

It took the Greene farm falling for you to eventually come to terms with the fact you liked him more than in a platonic sense. You had escaped with Rick and the whole ride to the highway you were scared you weren’t going to see Daryl again. What if he separated from the group? What if he didn’t make it out at all? All the thoughts raced in your head. Then it hit you and you realized that you were in too deep.

You loved him. 

Hearing the familiar sound of the bike filled you with an indescribable feeling, one of joy but also nervousness. You felt your heart flutter when you saw him again. You stood back in the group, letting him greet the others. Getting lost in your head you didn’t even notice the strong figure that put his arms around you, holding you tight for a second before letting go to get a look at you. 

“Happy to see ya, tough guy,” Daryl said with a smirk on his face. Giving you a light pat on your back he walked away, leaving you frozen and a blushing mess. You had prayed no one saw you in that state and it seemed to be luck was on your side with that. 

The feelings only grew and grew, there was no chance they were going to stop anytime soon. 

Once taking the prison, Rick started to assign watch shifts within the group, most of the time you had got night shifts. Which you didn’t mind at all, more peaceful you thought. Though every time you had a moment of peace, Daryl plagued your thoughts. With no doubt you were absolutely whooped for this man. 

During one of your shifts, you had gotten lost in thought again, this time just thinking about the past. Missing the old world, in the sense that you didn’t like fighting for your life every single day. You had gotten snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a jiggling sound approaching you, quickly turning around only to be met with Daryl himself. 

“Hey,” he moved his chin up when he greeted you, crossbow in hand. You did the gesture back and looked out into the distance, trying to act like you were actually watching. But you could never focus when he was around, all you wanted to do was look at him. Look at his strong arms, his face, his shoulders, God you just wanted to look at him all day. 

A soft tap on your shoulder brought you back to the real world, it was Daryl offering you a piece of meat. Probably leftovers from dinner, you happily took a small piece and ate it. “Thanks, appreciate it,” you smiled at him. 

“Don’ mention it, figure ya wanted somethin’. Ya been up here while,” A subtle redness hit your face. You knew he cared, but to come up to you on his own time meant a lot to you. When he stayed there afterward, you decided to at least try and talk, at least have sort of a conversation. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” You looked up at him, he wasn’t even looking at you but he just shrugged in response. “Can’t sleep in a cell, tha’s for sure,” 

“Agreed, too cramped, also cold and gross.” That made him chuckle under his breath, you mentally high fived yourself but quickly got off your high horse and continued the conversation. 

“It reminds me of my old man, hate thinkin’ about his ass all the damn time,” He was messing with his thumb, he probably felt awkward bringing it up. But you listened. 

You had known a little bit about Daryl’s father, nothing super detailed but you knew he wasn’t a good man. You sometimes caught glimpses of the scars his shirt couldn’t cover, so you just put two and two together. 

“Whats yer history? Barely know anythin’ about ya.” He pointed at you and he invited you to speak, but only if you wanted to. Which you appreciated. You took a deep breath and decided to tell him, what's the harm in that? 

“Grew up in Georgia, both my parents were around and I had a sister. Parents worked good jobs, treated us well. Or at least up until I came out to them. Treated me like an outsider ever since. Not the no contact type either, the type where they won’t admit I’m gay and sweep it under the rug,” You said the last portion with a shrug, it hurts to think about sometimes but it's far away in the past now. Daryl shook his head, “Tha’s some bullshit, why the hell they’d care?”

All you could do was shrug again, “Judgment I guess, my parents didn’t want to be the ones with the ‘gay son’. Or whatever. Stopped caring about it after I moved out.” He nodded along and smacked your shoulder playfully. “Good shit.” 

It got silent after that, you had hoped you didn’t make anything awkward. Which you obviously haven’t. The smell of smoke filled your lungs as you looked over to see Daryl nursing a cigarette, you finally let yourself watch him, just absolutely getting lost within him. But quickly turning away as he looked right back at you. 

He’d looked nervous now, which was very unlike him. Once the cigarette was out, he turned to look at you again. “Can I ask ya somethin’, and ya can’t judge,” 

“Never would, whats up,” a nervous pit welled up in your stomach, you hoped he couldn’t see the sweaty palms you had equipped. 

“Is askin’ out a guy the same as a girl?” Okay, maybe you were going to judge a little. You tried to hold back a laugh, but Daryl saw right through you. “C’mon ya said ya wouldn’t judge, answer the damn question.” 

You had calmed down and you were finally able to answer, “Depends on the guy but yes, you just sometimes got to be prepared for the worst case.” He nodded in response. 

“So, If I were to ask ya out right now, I wouldn’t get punched?” The meaning of his words didn’t process in your brain until you started responding. “Well no, I certainly wouldn’t punch-” you cut yourself off and looked at him in the eyes.

“Are you serious?” The butterflies that lived in your stomach were back with a vengeance, making you feel like you're on cloud nine. Daryl nodded a simple yes and you took the opportunity to play into the joke. 

“If you were to ask me out, I would say yes,” and there it is. The start of your relationship with the archer. 

It was casual at first, hanging out one on one in privacy, eating dinner together, going out on runs, all the simple things in an apocalypse context. When you both realized you really wanted this to work, you both had a discussion on the boundaries you both had. Daryl's main one being about being out. 

He had issues with his identity in the past, with his father and Merle, you knew he would be scared to be his authentic self so you understood. And you didn’t want to pressure him especially when all these feelings were so new to him. 

Once the prison fell, you had lost Daryl in the mess. Ending up with Carol and Tyreese, as well as Judith. You were unsure what had happened to the two little girls Carol had started to take care of, but you had known it probably wasn’t anything good. And finding out everyone in your group had been taken to a cannibal farm made your stomach drop. 

Thinking you had lost Daryl was a continuous feeling, he’d run off to do things for everyone and sometimes getting hurt in the process. It made you stressed, but without a doubt he would always come home to you. He kind of reminded you of an outside dog or cat, which you would tell him and he’d just push you off chuckling to himself. 

Seeing his strong figure again after being separated made you emotional, bringing you to tears. He was crying too, but trying not to show it off to everyone else. His arms engulfed you in a massive hug keeping you there for what felt like an eternity, but what was probably a few seconds. The reunion of the group was very short lived, you all needing to get on the road again to fully escape Terminus. 

The months on the road were long and hard, you all were praying for a break. And it seemed to come true when Aaron showed up. Inviting you all to Alexandria, you had felt a weight lifted off of your shoulders. Everyone was of course off put by this offer, but eventually realized they were legit. 

Finally having a place to call home, you had gotten all your belongings settled into the shared house. You were unsure where Daryl was going to go, but you wished he would share a room with you. Sighing, you walked out of the house to see Daryl messing with his crossbow, looking harshly at it when he injured himself. 

His expression softened when he saw you though, and he silently greeted you before going back to the crossbow. You made a spot beside him and sat in front of him, just wanting to have some familiar company in this new place. Suddenly remembering the party Deanna was going to have for you all tonight. You figured Daryl wouldn’t want to go, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask him. 

“You want to go to that party at Deanna’s tonight? It would be nice I think,” He just shrugged in response. “Not my thing,” was his response, not even looking up from his bow. Your head looking away caused him to look up at you, “Ya want me to go?” 

“It would be nice, a good opportunity. But I know you aren't going to have fun socializing,” He just scoffed and smirked at you. “I’ll go for ya, but only for ya,” his hand moved from his bow to point at you with a joking scold. You just softly laughed and squeezed him arm with your hand. “Thanks, love you.” 

“Love ya too,” he smiled up at you as you went to leave. Pausing quickly to get one more word in, “Oh, wear something nice, and shower.” Shooting a smirk directly his way, he leaned his head back and rolled his eyes. 

“First Carol, and now ya?” You simply shrugged and walked away. Leaving him on the porch until the party. 

When you started to get ready you heard a soft knock on your door, creeping the door open to be met with Daryl. Surprisingly already prepared to go, dressed up in a black button up, his vest, and a nice pair of jeans. The whole outfit screamed Daryl. Your eyes looked at him lovingly, and he grinned at you. “Like what ya see?” he said as he let himself into the room. 

“A lot actually,” he placed a soft kiss to the top of your head as you continued to get ready. Throwing on a button up shirt and a pair of khaki pants, clothes you had gotten from the resources at Alexandria. Giving Daryl a spin, you showed him your outfit “Lookin’ handsome.” He winked at you and walked over to give you a quick kiss on the lips before officially heading to the party. 

The walk to Deanna’s was nice, it felt like everything was normal again. It was quiet though, Daryl was clearly thinking about something, chalking it up to him not being sure about Alexandria yet. 

Once there Daryl hesitated to go inside, it took you physically dragging him by the side to even get him to the door. Grumbles left his mouth before you opened the door to let yourselves in, only to be immediately overwhelmed by all the people. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” you mumbled so only Daryl could hear. He patted your back softly and left to grab a beer and probably hide in a corner, which you had debated doing yourself. 

But you ended up chatting with Noah, making nice conversation. Never really getting the opportunity to meet and talk to him before. It was really nice. Until one of the Alexandrian women came up to you both, she obviously had some intentions that you really couldn’t read. 

Whatever, you thought, maybe she just wanted to be friendly? That's what you were hoping at least. You and Noah both exchanged awkward glaces, just looking wide eyed at each other as she kept trying to pull your attention without even saying a word.

Right as you were about to say something, she had beat you to the punch. “You’re quite the sight, pretty boy, what’s your name?” The pet name made you gag, but on the inside as it felt rude to physically do it in front of her. “Oh uh, I’m (Y/N), and this is Noah,” as soon as you finished speaking her hand shot up to shoo you. You were taken aback and looked at Noah again, still wide eyed. 

“I don’t care about him, I just wanna talk to you,” she said, pointing her finger at you and touching your face. Still looking at Noah, you were speechless. You had no clue what to say, genuinely. Mind went totally blank. You had looked behind you to see Daryl standing in the corner of the room eyeing up the situation you were in. A subtle head tilt from you was enough he needed to spring to action. 

Making his why over he stopped right beside you looking between you and the woman. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, looking right at you. You went to speak but the woman soon spoke up for you, “Just getting to know the new guy,” Daryl nodded his head looking back at you again picking up on your uncomfortable body language. 

She then went to touch your arm, trying to get a feel for you. At this point Daryl officially understood what was actually happening and he shot to grab her arm. “Not gonna happen, don’t touch him,” his voice was deep and stern and getting the attention of everyone surrounding you guys. 

The woman quickly pulled her arm away and scoffed. “Why not? It’s not like he’s here with anyone. I just wanna have some fun,” she said in a sly tone making you want to gag again. You could see on Daryl’s he was fuming, preparing to hear what he was going to say next. 

“Jus’ fuck off, he’s my man,” he said, quite loud in fact. Louder than anything else he had said that night. That was definitely something you were not expecting him to say in front of everyone. And he wasn’t either because as soon as he said it, he walked out with your hand in his. Storming out and slamming the door leaving everyone there in shock. 

“Okay, what the hell was that Dixon?” he was breathing heavily and trying to calm down with his outburst. His hands met his face as he wiped his eyes, finally calming down. “I don’ know, I jus’, had to finally say it.” A smile creeped up to your face and you put your hands on the side of his head. “I’m glad you did,” kissing him on the lips gently. You both made the choice to go home, just to relax for the rest of the night before the interrogations start tomorrow. 

It was the first night Daryl had slept in bed with you since the prison and it felt nice. Though the next morning Daryl was gone early, you had assumed he had gone out hunting so you just ready for the day and left the home. Only to be surprised by Daryl and Rick having a conversation on the porch. Rick noticed you and immediately walked over and engulfed you in a massive hug. Shooting a glance over to Daryl, he had just laughed. 

“Just wanted to tell you both that I was happy for you guys, glad to see Daryl and you are happy together,” you gave Rick a genuine smile and another hug, this one more emotional than the other one. It felt good to be fully supported in your relationship from people so close to you.  The hug separated and he went on to ask you generic questions like how long you both have been together, when it happened, he wanted to know it all. Which was very heartwarming and it made you feel giddy. 

After a while, Rick had left because he had to do work elsewhere. Leaving you and Daryl on the porch by yourselves. You look over at him, “how are you feeling?” 

Looking back at you, he smiled more than he had before, “Fuckin’ great.” He grabbed your head and placed kisses all over your face. He stopped and quickly reached into his pocket, pulling out two chains with rings on them. He held them out to you letting you pick between a silver and a gold one. You picked the one you liked the most and examined it closely. 

“What's this?” gesturing toward the necklace in your hand. “Necklace, was tryin’ to find promise rings but that all I found. Assumed they didn’t fit so put ‘em on chains.” He explained this like it was no big deal, but to you this was the whole world. 

“Promise rings?” you asked, happy tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“Yeah, wanna marry ya one day. And I wan’ everyone to know yer mine.” After he spoke he pulled you into a sweet kiss. Making you the happiest man ever.

[thetfspot-inanimate]

Lucky Singlet

Full Story and 2nd Image FREE for free members at link in my Bio!

--

Tyler's wrestling buddy, Tent ripped his singlet during a match and had a second match scheduled in an hour. Unfortunately, he didn't have a second singlet. Tyler was done for the day and offered Trent his singlet, but they both knew he wouldn't fit in it. Trent was running out options and was going to have to forfeit, which would cost him his shot at college regionals.

Tyler, already lost too many matches to go to regionals so he contemplated helping out his friend. Tyler, was a Chemistry major and had been working on a mixture that would change living organisms into a objects, but only if a piece of that object is mixed in with the mixture and a person drinks it. He had tested it on bugs and it worked on one mouse, but he'd never tried it on a person…

He looked over at Trent who sat forlorn in the empty locker room, head in his hands, and clutching his torn singlet. With an aching feeling that he would regret it, Tyler knew he had to help out his friend and told Trent about the mixture and what it could do. He told Trent that he would be his singlet for this match and this match only.

Trent's smile beamed and he bear-hugged Tyler, squeezing a little too hard. Trent was elated and was hopping up and down, still not loosening his grip on Tyler. It was only 5 minutes until the next match started and Trent encouraged Tyler to hurry up and drink it while Tyler tried to explain how to apply the second vile of serum that would change him back.

"The white serum is in my duffle bag and I'm leaving it under the bench in the locker room by your locker," Tyler said, "Just fold me up and make sure I am fully covered with it and I'll turn back in an hour, or so."

"Yeah, yeah, got it! Please hurry! Right now! I need it right now!" Trent responded.

Ripping off a piece of Trent's singlet, Tyler put the fabric in the uncorked bottle of yellow liquid and swirled it a round. The object started to bubble and dissolved in the potent concoction. Tyler looked at it and put it to his lips, hesitating, wondering if it was truly a good idea to drink the untested experiment.

"Come on, dude!" Trent begged and grabbed the base of the bottle, tipping it up forcefully into Tyler's mouth.

Without much of a option to protest, Tyler drank the contents of the bottle dry and immediately could feel the toxic liquid changing him from the inside out.

His skin felt weird, light, and cool as any slight breeze of air became more sensitive. His body felt hollow and it was getting hard to stand. He folded in on himself and fell to his knees, however, his knees to not catch his fall. He fellll directly onto his face, which started shifting downward to be the crotch of the singlet he was becoming.

You're shitting me, my face is really going to end up here? Tyler wanted to say but his mouth vanished into the pouch of the singlet. Pale white skin changed to yellow and black fabric, at an alarmingly rapid pace. He didn't expect the transformation to go that quickly, maybe it was because he drank all of the liquid while the test subjects only had a few sips? Whatever the reason, his body morphed into its final goal, hollowing out holes for Trent's massive legs to go.

"Thanks, buddy! I owe you one!" Trent said, wasted no time stripping naked and walking over to Tyler's flat form and picking him up.

Weighing only a few meager ounces, not being able to control any part of his form, and being completely fabric was extremely disorienting to Tyler. He didn't expect to have so much of his senses still. He could see, smell, taste, hear, and his touch felt heightened in a way. He was dropped to the floor and Trent swiftly yanked both of his beefy legs through Tyler's leg holes, stretching them past their intended limit. At first, being stretched like that was scary for Tyler, but surprisingly, it felt… arousing? it was as if someone were stretching his prostate. The other leg going in him felt the same way.

The motions were quick but Tyler new exactly what to expect next, just not to the extent of what to expect next. He knew Trent was hung, the singlets don't hide much when it comes to the imprint of another man's junk. He had also sneaked a couple of peaks at Trent when he was changing in the locker room, but getting to feel Trent's oversized cock press against his face, he didn't expect it to feel that big.

His pouch bulged out, every crevasse filled to the brim with Trent's man meat, yielding the same stretchy pleasure that he felt when Trent's legs filled his form, but this time in his face and mind.

Why does it feel so… so good? Tyler wondered as if could speak.

Trent, with not much consideration to his friend, adjusted his dick and balls through Tyler's former face and finished pulling Tyler up and over his body. Too sexually confused, and rather appalled for that matter, Tyler did not notice the rest of him being stretch onto Trent.

Trent quickly threw on his helmet, put in his mouth guard, and snapped on his pads, and walked out the locker room door on his way to his regional qualifying match.

Every step would elicit a feeling for Tyler. The wind blew through every strand of his fine fabric body. Every bounce and jiggle of Trent's horse cock sent micro-pleasures through Tyler's fabric mind. Trent's muscles contracted and expended, pushing and pulling Tyler's fabric, helpless to do anything but follow.

Tyler reminded himself, this was just temporary and would be over in less than 30 minutes. And whatever bursts of pleasure he was feeling, to put aside and just observe what was happening in the match. Heck, this was practically an up-close-and-personal lesson from Trent to learn his style and see what makes him so good.

Before he knew it, Trent was standing on the wrestling mat and the bell rang. The match had started and Tyler was too busy thinking about Trent, and needing to be changed back and…

The collision of the two men sent and uncanny wake-up-call through Tyler's entire existence. Like every strand of his fabric had goosebumps. The two men didn't stop, rest, or hesitate to grab and man-handle the other to the ground and Tyler could feel every part of it.

Whatever inkling of learning from Trent Tyler had, was now out the window as he was thrown around, grabbed, stretched, collided, and pressed in between two toned, muscular, giants.

Every movement he felt and every rub released some sort of pleasurable feeling, like nothing he felt as a human. He could compare the feelings vaguely. Being rubbed was like having his skelp massaged, and being pressed was like receiving a hug, but again, every part of it felt more than any of those actions would've if he were just a human. More stimulating and more arousing.

Beads of liquid sweat soaked into Tyler from every pore of Trent's muscular body. Trent's dick flopped and bounced in every direction, rubbing against Tyler's fabric face and getting half-hard in the process, further stretching Tyler out.

The bell rang. It was over? Trent's body was over his opponents. He was breathing heavily, and Tyler could feel his chest rise and fall with great succession. Both of Trent's hands were over the other guy's shoulders, pinned to the mat. Trent had won the period!

Heck, yeah! At least it's paying off and he's winning! Tyler thought.

The two behemoths reset, and the next period started shortly after. The same cacophony of pleasure induced disorientation and litany of fabric euphoria shook through Tyler's form. Until again, the bell rang, ending in the same way with Trent over the other man, declaring him the winner and sending him to finals!

--

The joy both Tyler and Trent felt as Trent walked back to the locker room was palpable. Every stretch, every bounce, ever disorienting grab, or musky bead of sweat that Tyler endured was fully worth it now that Trent was going to regionals!

"Dude! That was awesome!" Trent said with a skip in his step, "That was supposed to be my hardest match yet and I beat him faster than I've ever beaten another opponent! Wearing you must be lucky or something!"

Tyler couldn't help but feel the sense of pride he played in helping his friend's dream come true. He was so happy for Trent and in his mind, he was celebrating along with him.

"Did you see that one really quick turn I made the first round that got him onto his back, or that…"

Trent kept talking to Tyler about the match and all the different moves that he made. He opened his locker and started throwing things in his duffle bag and… he put on a hoodie over Tyler?

No no no! Dude! Take the hoodie off, you got to change me back! Tyler screamed in his thoughts as a pair of grey sweatpants followed, blinding Tyler into a muted darkness of warm fabric.

Trent kept on talking, but Tyler couldn't hear anything. He had suddenly become overwhelmed with an unrelenting panic. The fabric against his fabric body felt tingly, almost as if he were being tickled, but he was too concerned to focus on that feeling for more than an observation.

The silent screams of protest were not getting through to Trent as he continued to move and even started to walk. Tyler tried to move, to signal somehow that Trent was forgetting the main thing that Tyler explained to him, but he couldn't do anything, he was just a singlet.

Trent's thunderous steps boomed down the hall and onward. Trent opened what sounded like a car door, sat down, and started the ignition. Tyler's thoughts were flooded with profanities and worry. Anxiety, panic, doom, anger, frustration, every negative emotion was passing through Tyler as Trent put his foot on the gas and drove away, leaving the remedy in a duffle bag that will probably end up getting thrown away by the janitor.

[f1-jay]

Relax - Jenson Button

Pairing: TeamPrincipal!Jenson x FemDriver!Reader

Summary: Jenson helps the reader relax after a bad result.

Warnings: MDNI - Smut (P in V), sex in the workplace, Age Gap

Words: 1.8k

The race didn’t go as well as you had hoped, especially after qualifying in 2nd and ending up in 8th, putting you from first to third in the championship. You went through the media pen, then had a debrief with the team. There was positive energy, and the team was still happy with the result; you got four points and your teammate got twelve. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. You went into a small office area and really tried to determine where you went wrong.

The bright light from the sunset was streaming in through the window and into your line of sight. You closed the blind and continued analysing the footage. You can see the door open from the corner of your eye, and look up to see your team principal, Jenson Button. When you make eye contact with him, he tilts his head slightly. You pause the video.

“Yes? Can I help you?” You ask, even though you were pretty sure you knew what was going to come out of his mouth. The look on his face gave it away.

“I know you’re not pleased with your results, but that doesn’t mean you need to do this. We went through it in the debrief; you drove great; an unfortunate-timed safety car isn’t your fault.” He reminds you with a gentle smile as he comes in and closes the door.

“I know, but I was 6th after the safety car, then I proceeded to lose two more places, so I still want to see what I could’ve done better.” You say it with a shrug of the shoulders. Jenson leans against the desk next to you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You did the best you could. No one’s disappointed in the result but you” he says reassuringly. He reaches out and takes the device from your hands. “You need to take a break. We’re headed straight into another race week; I would rather you prepare for that than stress about this.” You hold your hand out, wanting him to give the device back.

“Just 10 more minutes." You negotiate, but he shakes his head and places the tablet on the far corner of the table, out of your reach.

“No, I’ve seen you on a weekend like this before. Ten minutes will become one hour.” You know it’s true and figure that there is no point in arguing, so you put your hands up in surrender and agree to not do any more. “You put in some of the most intense hard work and preparation I’ve ever seen; you need to not push so hard sometimes. In the end, it won’t do you any good."

“That sounds a little hypocritical,” you say with a slightly confused look on your face. “Weren’t you like this back in the day?”

"Yeah, and that’s why I’m telling you to slow down.” He admits “Plus, Id hate to see you go grey early," bringing a lighter mood to the conversation.

“I think I’ll leave the whole ‘going grey’ thing to you for now.” You gesture at him.

“That sounded a bit judgy, I happen to look good with grey, thank you.”

“I never said it didn’t look good?” You place a hand on your chest as you defend yourself.

“Oh? So you think I look good?” a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He always had a natural flirtyness with the way he spoke.

“Shut up.” You laugh and shake your head at him. Your response caused him to chuckle softly.

“You can’t deny it. You think I’m attractive.” He teased

“That would be a little scandalous, no? Telling my boss that he is attractive” You lean back in your chair and fiddle with your fingers. Jenson looks at you amused; his eyes still fixed on you.

“I’d describe it more like…thrilling”

“Is that right?” You question. The conversation felt like it could be heading into dangerous territory, but with a man like Jenson in front of you, what else were you meant to do. You knew it was wrong; it was your boss, but it was also the man you’ve been crushing on for a few years. He leans down slightly.

“You sound intrigued.” His voice was a little deeper than before.

“I shouldn’t be.” You don’t want to be too forward, hoping that he leads the conversation if he wants to go in that direction.

“But you are, aren’t you?” His hands come down to both arm rests, caging you in, as he gazes down at you. You slowly nodded in response and confirmed what he said. He leans even closer, your noses almost touching. His eyes linger on your lips for a few seconds before meeting your eyes again. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t think I can say. It’s not very work-friendly.” You can feel the warmth of his breath as he chuckles.

“What we do after work isn’t really anybody’s business but our own.” I look to the side and gesture outward.

“We’re still in the workplace.”

“The door is locked. The blinds are shut. Nobody is going to walk in on us or see.” His eyebrow slightly arches, as if he’s challenging you to go ahead and do something. You grab his jaw, pulling him forward to kiss him. He lets out a surprised hum, then closes his eyes as he eagerly kisses you back. His hands move from the chair to your waist, pulling you up from your seat so that your bodies are against each other. He slightly turns and takes a step, so your butt is against the table. He lifts you up to sit on top of it and stands between your legs as he continues to kiss you. Jenson’s hands move down to your hips as he deepens the kiss. His tongue runs against your bottom lip, you adhere and open your mouth slightly, and one of his hands makes its way to your hair. He slowly breaks the kiss and starts trailing his lips along your jawline and down your neck.

“Sir” you softly breathe out. He pulls back a little and looks at you with a grin. He leans in by your ear.

“Yes, sweetheart?” His lips hover over your skin.

“I need to know if we are going to go all the way.”

“Do you want to?” He asks, looking into your eyes again, and you nod. His eyes darkened slightly. “Are you sure?” He wants to make sure you are certain before you go any further.

“Yes, Jenson” His eyes roam over your face, searching for any hesitation. When he finds none, he kisses you again, his hands moving to the waistband of your pants. He works on getting them off, and they fall down to your ankles while you untuck his shirt and fiddle with the buttons. His thumb circles your clit over your panties for a moment until he can feel wetness on the pad of his finger. He pulls them down, and his fingers run through your pussy.

“I’d love to take this slow, but it’s only a matter of time before someone interrupts.” He pulls his pants and underwear down and holds his hand out under your mouth, telling you to spit. When you do, he begins to stroke his cock. His other hand goes to your shoulder, guiding you to lay down. He slides the tip through your folds before pushing it in; you can’t help the small gasp that comes from you. Inch by inch, he slides to rest in, and the slight stretch feels heavenly. You try to keep your voice down as you tell him how good he feels. He keeps hold of your hips as he builds rhythm, and you are forced to bite your lip to contain noise.

Honestly, it had been a little while since you had sex, mostly because you could imagine the things that the media would say if they found out, you would get torn to shreds just because you’re a girl. The desk beneath you creaks every so often, which reminds you where you are. Then the doorknob rattles. You both tense up a little, and Jenson stills inside of you for a single second.

“Who is it?” He calls out; it’s one of the engineers wanting to talk to him. Your pussy clenches around him, causing his attention back to you. He starts thrusting again, slow but hard. “Y/n and I are having an important conversation.” His voice was strained. “We need some time.” My nails dig into your back, and my hand comes up to my mouth as you speed up. His eyes close as a soft grunt leaves his lips. Once the guy acknowledged that and walked away, you asked him to go faster again, and he did. His hand comes to your mouth, moving yours away and covering it himself. “You need to be quiet, sweetheart. Can’t have anyone hearing us.”

“Sorry” you mumble into his hand. An amused grin is on his face at your apology, and his hand squeezes a little tighter, being sure to muffle any noise. Your back arches and you grab his hand that’s silencing you, gripping onto it. Your actions spur him on, and as he looks down at you with desire, his movements become more intense.

“That’s it. Come on.” His voice is low and almost rough. Your hand that’s on his back slides across to his bicep, and you tap a couple of times, trying to tell him you’re getting close. He’s also starting to feel the same way, with the same tension building in him. “Let me have it, sweet girl.” That’s enough to have your high hit you. Jenson feels your body shiver beneath him, and it pushes him to his finish. He keeps grinding softly as you ride out your releases. For a few moments, the only sound in the room was ragged breathing.

He pulls out and leans on the desk, then looks down at you lying on the desk. He reaches out and brushes a lock of hair from your face; his eyes roam over your flushed skin.

“You okay there?”

“Mmm, I’m great." You open your eyes to look at him. He smiles at you and slowly pulls you up into a sitting position, his hands on your hips to keep you there.

“You certainly look great." His words make you shake your head and giggle.

“I hate you” You say as you look away from him, almost nervous to make eye contact.

“You seemed to think I was pretty great a few minutes ago.” He gently turns you back to look at him and cocks his eyebrow.

“Well, we might have to do it again soon for me to actually confirm if it was any good.”

“Is that so?” He leans down to kiss your lips. “I think that can be arranged.”

[justcallmecj]

Ice Dragons DON'T Belong In The Desert

"I would like to suggest a story with Jamil and the reader. Where Jamil finds our dragon passed out at the Scarabia dorm from overheating and takes care of her/them (i will leave the gender decision up to you). I could see this being romantic (like Jamil and our dragon are already dating). But i am open to platonic friendship too." Courtesy of- Foxtrot_Heart77 (On AO3)

Potential Trigger Warning: Passing out, extreme exposure to heat

Y/N's POV

        Damn this sun. Why is Scarabia so freaking hot?! Why couldn't it have been some winter wonderland instead!!

        Now, I've never been to Scarbia. Sure, Kalim has invited me over for parties and all that fun stuff all the time, but I've never gone through with it. If there is any lesson in life that I hope I never forget, it is that heat and Ice Dragons DON'T mix. Not whatsoever. Not even with hundreds of years of evolution.

        However, here I am. If it felt like I had much of a choice, I wouldn't be here. But there were problems and I needed to find my boyfriend quickly. It's not like Jamil to not answer his phone. And even in the times where he's too busy to answer a call or text, he's sure to get back to me eventually, which is why I left the texts as was for a couple hours. But even three hours later there was no response.

        I asked some classmates if they had seen him, but no one has. It's the weekend so no classes, meaning no reason for anyone to have seen him recently unless they went to Scarabia. The problem was that I'm not friends with many Scarabia kids due to the fact I've never been there.

        Why is there such a walk between the dorm building and where the Mirror Hall sends you!? Wouldn't it make more sense to put them right next to each other, or even inside the damn building???

        My wings flared out in an attempt to let whatever wind there potentially was brush against my skin and scales, however the desert air was stagnant and burning hot. Since that plan failed, I tried wrapping my wings around myself and producing whatever cold air I could, even letting out a small puff of Freeze Breath. Unfortunately, even that proved to be rather unfruitful.

        The sweltering heat of the sun beat down in me, my wings getting droopy and my tail dragging through the scorching sand. Thankfully my tail is covered in protective scales so it didn't hurt much. I could feel myself sweat, my clothes sticking to my skin and making me feel uncomfortable.

        A dull, throbbing pain settled in my head, making my stomach curl and knot. I could feel the beginning stages of light headed-ness set in and the desert sands started waving in the non-existent wind.

        I knew this was a bad idea. My only saving grace was the fact that I could see the Scarabia building getting closer and I know Jamil told me the building was purposely built to be much cooler on the inside.

        Is Scarbia moving? Why are the walls waving around? I swear this better not be some heat-induced hallucination! I don't think I can take that!

        The entire desert started spinning and right as I was at the doors of this potential hallucination, the world went black. The last thing I heard before blacking out was the yells of people.

        Ugh, what the hell?

        It is not fun to wake up with a headache, especially not a throbbing one. I attempted the smallest opening of my eyes but the light was far to strong. Opting to keep my eyes closed for the sake of my own head, I instead tried stretching out my limbs to make a quick assessment of my current state.

        Starting with my fingers, which moved without a hitch or soreness, I slowly worked my way up. Arms: working. Legs: sore but also working. Wings: extremely sore in the muscles but otherwise functioning. With a quick feel I can confirm my horns are still attached and my ears are still pointy.

        Well, at least I didn't lose anything important.

        "Y/N.." I heard a voice whisper. My mind may still be slow right now but that is a voice I could never forget. Jamil. My boyfriend. The man I came out here to Scarabia's blazing hot and annoying desert to see.

        "Mh." It was all a could manage. I still couldn't open my eyes, not with how heavy they felt. I quickly realize that my throat was sore, dry as the sands outside.

        Wait. Outside? I'm inside! How?!

        "How much do you remember?" Jamil asked. I felt his hand rest on my forehead and swipe something cold against my skin, a bit of fabric getting caught on a few scales. A cold washcloth. He's trying to cool me down.

        "U-um-" My voice cut out due to soreness and lack of use. It scratched and scrapped against my vocal cords and burned with the effort of responding. A weird object met my lips and it took me a moment to realize that it was a metal straw. I took an experimental sip, trusting my boyfriend not to try and poison me.

        I immediately gulped down as much as I could upon recognizing the refreshing taste of water. I only slightly registered the sound of Jamil's shocked yelp as he scrambled to hold the cup more firmly so there wouldn't be a mess to clean. The cup was soon empty. (I would later realize that it was a rather large cup that I had voraciously swallowed down.)

        "Well, I'm glad a grabbed multiple water bottles while I was getting that cup. You're gonna need them from the looks of it." he said, a slightly strained laugh in his voice.

        I finally worked up the courage to open my eyes again. The sun was bright as all hell but it did feel better to be more aware of my surroundings. My eyes opened one after the other, first the right one and when that one was adjusted to the light, the left followed suit. After a moment of forcing my eyes to stay open, I blinked a couple dozen times to orientate myself.

        Eventually Jamil came into focus. It didn't take long for me to see the worried crease of his brows and the slightly panicked look in his eyes. There was also a distinct tightness to his face that showed his strained facade of calm. There's the Jamil I know, always such a worry wart, but always keeping a clam face.

        Jamil lifted up another water bottle and opened the lid, holding it up for me to grab. My limps felt like they were filled with sand and my muscles strained to move, but I managed to lift my arm enough to take the bottle from him and hold it up to my mouth, gulping all of the water down in only a few swallows. I took a few moments after that to let my head stop spinning, feeling Jamil take the bottle from me.

        "Feeling a little better? You must have been really dehydrated." Silence followed while Jamil placed his hand on my back, rubbing small circles into the skin and scales and putting pressure to make sure I don't topple over if dizziness decided to poke its head. It was a couple of minutes before I could manage a response.

        "Better. No longer burning in the sun, so that's a plus." My voice was still rough and coarse, but it no longer scratched when I tried to speak. The water had helped.

        "Good to hear. However..." he trailed off for a split second before pulling me closer to his chest and maneuvering around my horns, trying not to poke out his eye. "What were you doing out in the sands? You know you can't handle the heat, so why risk it?" Jamil's voice was gentle, but also firm and scolding. Silence followed again.

        "I was worried about you.." I managed. The scratchiness in my throat was all but gone, little bits of Ice Breath cooling my throat now that it had water to create mist, but there was a tight feeling, like emotions squeezing my vocal cords.

        "I tried to text you, call you even, but I got nothing. And I know you're a busy man, with your duties and all that, so I let it be for a couple hours! You usually get back to me when you get the chance. But it had been hours and I still didn't get anything, so I started to worry. I tried a few more times and after that, I made a dumb ass decision to come and track you down.." I was rambling, and I knew that, but I needed to speak and Jamil made no effort to stop me, so why should I? Plus, I know it's best to be honest with my boyfriend, he appreciates it.

        "Shit..." he whispered under his breath. His arms hugged me tighter and I got the feeling it was less to comfort me than it was to comfort himself. One wing unfolded and wrapped around Jamil in a type of pseudo hug and the other splayed itself across my body in an effort to use whatever cold my body produced to keep me cool. I may be in the building now, but there is still a reason the Scarabia uniforms are sleeveless.

        "Sorry about that, babe. My phone died sometime around noon so I put it on the charger in my room, but with duties and all that, I haven't been back to my room since. I was actually beginning to prepare dinner when one of the Scarabia students found me, yelling about a student having passed out in the front courtyard. That's when I ran out to find you there, so I brought you back here, to my room, and did what I could to cool you down." he explained. Now, in Jamil's own weird way, he was rambling. It's a habit he may or may not have picked up from either me or Kalim. But he let me ramble, so I won't stop him.

        I hummed, acknowledging him while still giving him a moment to decide if he wanted to keep talking. He didn't speak again, so I took that as a 'no'. I moved just enough to be further up, so our faces were more level and I was less in his chest. I looked at him and he looked back.

        "You did great at that, by the way. You must have known what you were doing, because I feel better already. I bit hotter than I would normally like, but I no longer feel like I'm about to pass out and if you ask me, that's an improvement." I laughed, feeling the moment needed a bit of humor. Despite the fact he was still clearly worried, he laughed as well. It was a sweet moment.

        Jamil leaned closer and pecked me on the lips with a kiss. Sweet, gentle and meant to express every word that he couldn't properly speak right now. In turn, I kissed him back, this time longer and more passionate, and he returned the sentiment. And for an hour, that's all we were. Two lovers caught in each others embrace, sweetly kissing each other when the time felt right. Sometimes we spoke about our day, about the events that occurred when we were not at each others sides. Other times we sat in comfortable silence, speaking nothing because there was nothing that needed to be said.

        That was all we were until all the water bottles were empty and the sun had lowered some, cooling the air if only a little. We stayed like that until Kalim tracked us down and started to fuss over me. Jamil was a little frazzled, but let it be for the sake of peace. Realizing Kalim found Jamil for dinner, all three of us left Jamil's room and headed towards the kitchen, Kalim talking on an on in a quieter voice than normal and Jamil walking with my hand in his in silence, enjoying the peacefulness of the walk.

        My legs were still shaky, this being the first time I've walked since collapsing, but I managed with minimal help and was back to my normal self by the time we three reached the kitchen. But dread washed over me when the kitchen got infinitely hotter when Jamil turned on the stove, adding to the already hot air of Scarabia. But this time, I had my boyfriend at my side, and I knew I would be fine.

I feel really happy about this because there is something about this man that gets me so he is a delight to have content for

[timetravellibrarian]

Ace x reader

Just me writing something to clear my heartbreak. Cried enough already.

_________________________________________

In another universe...

Where Blackbeard's plans had failed and Luffy managed to save his dear older brother.

In another universe...

Where Akainu couldn't get his last attack in because you managed to block it from hitting either of your favourite boys.

In another universe...

Where you had a df that could heal any injuries. Even if Akainu had placed a large whole in your best friend's body, you could still do something. Recreate all the missing parts and fit them in like they were never burnt to a crisp.

In another universe...

Where Ace could see that he is loved. That he deserves to live. That he is no curse but a blessing in many of the lives of people he met.

The both of you sat at one of the windows of the Polar Tang. Ace's head on your lap and you ruffling his hair. Death was so close to having it's clutches on him.  Now it was time for him to rest from all the emotions experienced on that battlefields.

Whitebeard was dead. His father figure was left to die standing back at Marineford. His crew retreating with tears threatening to spill. If it hadn't been for Shanks appearing out of nowhere there wasn't a doubt that they would have not left the place in a casket.

Luffy was being treated by Law and his crew, his body having caught up to all the energy hormones, the near death experiences, the amount of of power he had to use to try and save Ace. He gave his all. Even when his crew weren't by his side, he tried.

Your eyes trailed over Ace's peaceful state. You had forced him to wear a shirt. Since he had hung onto life by a thread, his power had already left, leaving him to experience temperatures he wasn't used to before eating the devil fruit.

Luffy still thought his brother was dead unfortunately. Everyone did. They hadn't seen him being picked up and healed along the way.

The sound of his steadied breath was comforting.

"Luffy's stable," Law approached the two of you silently, noting that the one was asleep." His body took on a lot. Needs time to repair itself."

"Thank you, Law." You head leaned against the wall as you looked at him, hands absentmindedly playing with Ace's hair.

"You alright? You look worse for wear." The doctor sat beside you.," I don't think reforming organs and tissues was your specialty." His tired eyes trailed over to the bandaged on your fingers.

"I try my best,"

Once Luffy had awoken, his eyes catching a glimpse of a tall dark haired male with freckles arguing with you over wearing a jacket he couldn't believe it.

"You're gonna catch a cold,"

"No, I won't." Cue the sneeze. He reluctantly wore the jacket. He looked away when he knew your face would have an expression that screamed "I told you so.". His eyes met with his younger brother's instead.

"Ace?"

The boy's eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing but his body immediately ran to his brother, tears starting to fall .

"ACE!!!"

They both collapsed onto the floor as they took in each other's presence. It was a happy sight. One that brought a smile onto your face. If it took your hands bleeding to see this kind of exchange, going past your healing capabilities, then it was worth it.

Soon you were pulled into the hug. Being squashed between the two brothers.

"THANK YOU SO MUCH, Y/N!" Luffy screamed into you face, a waterfall of tears going down his cheeks. He continued to spew a thousand words of thanks while still squashing you in a hug.

Law watched from the side, a small smile on his face. Ace catching him in his peripheral before walking to him to talk about something.

But soon the time for everyone to separate came. Rayleigh taking in Luffy to undergo training. Soon you were left alone with your friend, watching as his younger brother retreated.

The feel of a larger hand intertwining with yours caught your attention. Eyes going up to the taller fellow beside you. His face had relieved itself from his carefree smile and had a thoughtful frown.

"You alright?"

No answer. Before you could ask again you were carefully enveloped into a hug. You're head against his chest. A small peck was placed on your forehead.

"Thank you."