#wip: the house always wins

[simplegenius042]

The True Sinners & The House Always Wins?

Ask and you shall receive @carlosoliveiraa!

The House Always Wins is a Fallout New Vegas fic and part of my Fallout series A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore. Here's what I have so far... It takes place a few years after the events of The Waters Of Life Flow (the FO3 fic), and half-human/half-dimensional creature hybrid siblings Ortega "Ore" Brantley and Marissa "Ress" Bishop have been tipped off about atypical activities happening in the Mojave, not dissimilar from the Occult's activities their despicable father, Arcane Urias, lead in the Capital Wasteland and California. Seeing this as an opportunity to put a stop to the Occult and avenge their friends and Urias' victims. However, this is put on hold when they encounter a securitron with a cowboy's face dragging an unconscious Courier through the scorching desert. With no place better to start searching for clues, they help get the Courier, a veteran Wasteland woman named Ryder, to Goodsprings.

Now I don't have any snippets prepared for you, but I can share that Ress and Ore split off to cover more ground; Ore will accompany Ryder to track down Benny, retrieve the Platinum Chip, speak with Mr House, get wrapped up in dealing with the Legion, and win Hoover Dam for House (plus attain any companions along the way) while Ress goes off to track down the Occult by doing the thing she loves most; intimidating the shit out of the locals in the communities she visits, killing people she doesn't like the faces of, bullying the elderly, get wrapped up in doing the NCR's bidding, almost die, then working alongside Yes Man for an Independent Vegas (plus pressuring any companions she meets into following her). All the while Urias second-in-command, Aggravor, chills in the Divide while coordinating efforts to place a warhead into the dam. If only the pesky courier with the mask and long speeches of "something, something, bull, bear" would let him get the location of the remote that originally set off the Divide.

Now The True Sinners is a FC5 fic where it takes place in an alternative setting of Far Cry The Silver Chronicles where Silva Omar's grief still remained long enough to dissuade her from becoming a deputy of the Hope County Sheriff's Department. Without a "muse", especially one chosen by the Voice itself, the Seals can't be opened, and the Collapse can't occur, and the Voice is livid that its muse has decided to opt out. Instead of wasting time in choosing another poor sap (especially since it has history with this one), the Voice instead just re-contextualizes the muse's purpose to Joseph, leading to the Seed Family kidnapping Silva in the dead of night so she can be present for the arrest and still break the First Seal (by technicality). Silva has to balance helping the Resistance from the inside and getting into the Seeds' good graces without sacrificing her morals and values in the process. In the meantime, Silva's (personal? family?) doctor, Kamski Neon, ends up helping to lead the Resistance to rescue the only other person he knew from the Archipelagos, and while great at organization and treating wounds, he is not very popular amongst the locals. Case in point, the snippet below:

Kamski entered the bar, moving ahead to the nearest stool, leaving Armstrong to her own devices outside. He was not unaware of the gazes that were set on him, eyes watching as he steadily sat himself in front of the bar's counter.

Like buitres, Kamski couldn't help but compare the locals to the scavengers. He disliked the bird, more than the eagles that dived at him when he took Silva's invitation into the county, but he understood their importance, despite the little pragmatism they held.

He brought a flask out of his satchel, unlatching the lid to take a swig. He took another swig as soon as he spotted the Pastor making his way toward him.

"Why?"

Kamski lazily glanced to Jeffries, spotting Fairgrave leaning against the wall next to the stairway, watching the confrontation like most of her patrons.

The Good Doctor sighed, scratching at his sideburns, the red in his hair slowly on it's way to becoming white, and asked his own question, "What is the meaning behind this "why", Pastor?"

Kamski took another swig, but found no bitterness reaching his tongue. Upon further inspecting the flask, shaking it about with no signature swish nor swirl, Kamski was disappointed that he'd be dealing with this conversation on a sober mind.

Jeffries took a breath, but his frustration made its way to the tone of his voice, "Why did you kill that man?"

Kamski raised a brow at the Pastor, "You mean the Peggie?"

"A former Peggie. A defector. One who would have exchanged information on John's supply chains, coordination of future attacks, and his next baptisms," Jeffries emphasized, "And you executed him."

Kamski blinked at the Pastor, giving a shrug, "Your point?"

As the old doctor shifted to slide off the stool, Jeffries grasped his shoulder, grounding out his next words with a solemner tone, "Even if it meant losing information regarding Silva's current captivity."

Kamski growled at him, shoving the arm off his shoulder, "I didn't just kill the Peggie. I got information out of him before I gave him what he deserved. It would have been counterproductive to not retrieve whatever information he held, just as it would have been for going through with the escort."

He pulled out a note and slammed it onto the counter.

"Here's all he had. None of it included Silva, by name nor description," Kamski stated.

Kamski made to move but Jeffries stated, "You still killed a man who wanted to change. A way out."

The Good Doctor scoffed, shaking his head at the Pastor's words. He doesn't understand. None of them would. These peggies don't get the right to attempt a vain ploy to change. Not after all they've done. All they do nothing about. It just makes it easier for them to stab us in the back.

He dragged his hand over his face, a fingers rubbing against the scar that crosses the ridge of his nose. His thumb traced the the cut that crossed his bottom lip down to his chin, a reminder that fueled his next response.

"Then he should have never listened to the words of that Profeta," Kamski replied, making his way towards the exit of the bar, ignoring the deep sigh behind him.

"Armstrong," Kamski greeted the sharpshooter at the porch, who only gave a grunt in acknowledgement as she tended to her rifle, "You know where the Jailhouse is?"

Armstrong stopped wiping the barrel, looking up to the doctor, "My pops drove past it sometimes when he was running errands for some old war friends of his. Hard to miss."

"Excellent," Kamski smirked, turning towards the sedan limousine he stole, "Because I'm going to need directions."

[ifievertoldyou]

YoungerBur Art

from @alexanderwesker 's The House Always Wins ! make sure to check it out if the tags aren't too much for you!!

i haven't done photorealism in a hot minute, mostly because i don't usually have the patience for how freaking Long it always takes, but even so, i think i like how this turned out :D

mediums: #2 pencil, crayola colored pencils 100 pack, caran d'ache blender, a pink eraser

time taken: ~8.5 hours 🥴

have some extra content, as a treat.

filters

wips

thanks for making it to the end! as always, reblogs, likes and comments are all deeply appreciated ^D^ <3

[peppered-moths]

FUCK,,,,, THE LIFESTEAL BRAINROT,,,,,,,,,,,, IT'S COMING FOR ME AGAIN

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ EVERYBODY TALKS (LN4)

pairing: lando norris x f!reader

summary: lando eventually lands the girl of his dreams. he also finds out just how fast news travels

a/n: this was one of my wips i posted foREVER ago so enjoy the full one shot whilst i finish off some written stuff. based on everybody talks by neon trees🙇‍♀️🤍

*faceclaim (but imagine as you see her fit) is millie hannah

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by alex_albon, danielricciardo and 451,608 others

landonorris boo’s birthday

view all comments

alex_albon here’s a thought stop calling her your boo and actually make her your boo

this comment has been hidden by the original poster

user did anyone else see that comment or am i making things up

user bro just ask her out i swear to god

user last photo is feeling very intimate mr. norris

alex_albon happy birthday y/n/n, please don’t get me super drunk tomorrow

user i saw that last comment mr ur not slick

yourusername no promises albono i intend to do a lot of shots

texts between lando and friends ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and 47,009 others

yourusername y/n’s big birthday bash🪩

👤 tagged landonorris, friend1 and 6 others

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landonorris did u run to the bathrooms just to post on instagram

yourusername stfu and order me shots

user is anyone else now thinking about how often y/n probably sees lando shirtless👁️👄👁️

user i’ve been thinking about it since she first posted that photo of him in the gym showing his abs

user @/user TAG ME IN THAT WTF

texts between lando and friends ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, alex_albon and 43,001 others

yourusername 💋

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user MA’AM YOU ARE UNBELIEVABLY ATTRACTIVE

lilymhe is that the lip combo i suggested because GIRL IT SUITS YOU

user lando MOVE i want her too

landonorris pretty

landonorris where are you off to?

yourusername meeting that friend i told you about on my bday!

y/n’s texts with lando ੈ✩‧₊˚

landonorris just posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 45,610 others

yourusername race days

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maxverstappen1 you’re a jinx. never come again

maxverstappen1 (it was lovely to see you)

yourusername hope you enjoyed your time in the garage🥰🥰

user come to every race you’re good luck

user personally if my best friend was super hot and came to cheer me on looking that good i’d cuff her but maybe lando’s different

yourusername nah he’s just oblivious

landonorris @/yourusername HUH

yourusername @/landonorris i said what i said

tmz just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

texts between lando and friends ੈ✩‧₊˚

landonorris just tweeted ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername responded: yes, literally everyone.

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, alex_albon and 500,018 others

landonorris lando: 1, friendzone: 0

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user FUCKIN FINALLY.

user @/yourusername i could treat you better

alex_albon you’re not really winning if you’ve been pining over her for two years mate

landonorris shut the fuck up before she sees this

yourusername @/landonorris TWO YEARS??? TWO YEARS AND YOU SAID NOTHING????

user uh oh. lando’s in trouble

————

a/n: this was… weak i apologise im still settling in😭 just wanted to put something out whilst i finish my charles/seb/lando written one shots eek!

as always any reblogs and whatnot appreciated. big love xx

- giselle

taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee @tallrock35 @treehouse-house @iloveyou3000morgan @scopeiguess @amaranthineghost @gwginnyweasley @hetfieldd @sweetbabygirlsworld @wittywhispers @dark-night-sky-99 @namgification @casperlikej @marshmummy @geniusalpaca

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: told myself to slow down, didn’t.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You finish your cocktail before you go into the concert hall. Roxie grabs a third and you pass, not wanting to run back and forth to the bathroom. Besides, you don’t really like the way the vodka stirs in your stomach and little behind your eyes.

The band is decent. You don’t know any of the songs and only vaguely heard of the artist they are a tribute to. Still, you enjoy the live show; you focus on their instruments and how they use them. You always wanted to be musical but never had a sense of tone or melody.

By the end of the set, you’re yawning. Your sister is on her fourth drink and you can’t tell if she’s swaying to the music or if it’s more than that. As the rows empty, you shuffle out with the rest of the concert goers. The bright lights of the casino greet your squint and your ears pulse slightly from the noise of the strumming and crashing show.

“Mm, so, what’d’ya say?” Your sister makes almost every word into one, “how do we spend this?”

She fishes out the chip and you give a sheepish frown. You almost forgot about it. You still think you should turn it in. You don’t feel right spending someone else’s money. You do that often enough, much too old to be living off your mom.

“Don’t be boring,” she warns, “jeez. It’s just cards. Odds are, whoever dropped it, would’ve lost it to the house anyway.”

She claps her hand around your shoulder. You pull back the sleeve of your cardigan to check the time. It’s after ten! You haven’t been out that late since... ever.

“I’m not boring,” you cross your arms and shrug her off. “I just... am different than you.”

“Boring,” she repeats. “You can’t spend all day in your room.”

Yes, you can. And you do.

You don’t argue. When she’s like this, it’s only bound to become a scene. There are too many strangers around for that.

“Black jack,” she declares and spins the coin. It slips from her grasp and falls between her feet. She bends over shamelessly in her dress to pluck it up. “Come on, let’s clean up.”

She struts ahead and you shuffle after her, nervously wringing the strap of your purse. Hopefully she loses it quickly and you can just retreat home in defeat. You catch up to her as she reaches the stairs. She giggles as she leans on the railing and you take her other arm, trying to support her wobbly steps.

“Want another drink?” She asks.

“No, think we’re good.”

“We?” She scoffs, “I’m fine.”

“Please, Rox, let’s just find a table,” you peek around as her voice rises a bit louder than you like.

“Pfft, fine, but if I win, I'm getting a drink.”

You nod. Go along to get along. That’s what your mother always told you when it came to your sister. She’s more like your father than she cares to admit.

You get to a table and she sits easily on the high seat of the tall stool. She lays down the single chip and the dealer offers to break it into smaller ones. She nods and shrugs. You envy how smoothly she just breezes through things.

You stand behind her. You don’t want to take up a seat and the stool is too much of a climb for you. You can see it wobbling as you attempt to hitch yourself up with the crossbar. You’re good, you shouldn’t get comfortable.

You listen to the shuffle of cards as your sister murmurs something you can’t make out. You can only hear the low drone of voices as you stand back. You sidle out of the way as a man claims the empty stool beside your sister. He buys in and another hand is dealt. Hasn’t she lost yet?

The man leans into your sister and you grimace. She turns her head to listen to him and she giggles. Your cheeks blaze hotly and you cross your arms and rock. Neither seem to notice you as they get closer and closer.

As the game progresses, you can only really make out what the dealer says; the different numbers that have grumbles coming from other players. You bring your hand up to pick at the button on your cardigan. The man puts his arm around your sister’s back, his hand on her hip as wiggles in her seat coyly. What about Tom?

You peer around awkwardly. Do you stop her? Remind her of the boyfriend that got her the tickets for tonight? You bounce in your flats and pause as you find someone else staring back at you. Or are they? Just as quickly as your eyes meet, the stranger’s eyes flit away and he’s back to chatting with another man. It’s the very same man who gave you the chip. Maybe her forgot you. That’s not a surprise.

You return your attention to your sister. The man has moved his arm between them and your sister squirms. You watch his elbow as he pulls his hand back. He’s touching her leg. She’s wiggling and suddenly, she shoves him away and screeches.

“EH! I got a boyfriend, perv! I said stop.”

Her voice carries along the high ceilings and you cringe. You back up, cowering away as she stands and the stool teeters dangerously. She fists her hand and you think for a moment she might just hit the guy. He scoffs and turns in his seat.

“Babe, just wanted to buy you a drink.”

“Whatever. You fucking creep!” She hollers.

“Ma’am,” the dealer calls from the table, “is there a problem?”

“Y-yeah,” she hiccups, “this dude had his hand up my skirt.”

“She’s drunk,” the man shakes his head, “listen to her.”

“I’m--” your sister’s denial catches in her throat, “doesn’t mean he can just touch me.”

“Ma’am, if you’re drunk, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m fine. I'm not that...” She slides off the stool and stands, grabbing the chips in front of her seat and tossing them across the table. “You’re all a bunch of crooks.”

Her ankles tangle as she spins and she barely gets her balance before she storms away. Her strides are uneven as she bobbles drunkenly. You watch after her with wide eyes before you follow. She leads you into the bathrooms as she growls and grumbles. She slams into a stall and you stand outside.

You wait until she comes out. She’s quieter and her eyes are hazy. She washes her hands and applies a new coat of lip gloss.

“What a bust,” she pouts and rolls her eyes, “one more drink and we’ll go.”

“Maybe we should just leave now.”

“That guy was such a pervert,” she sneers at you, “you saw where his hand was.”

You nod, “yeah, I did...”

“So, you know I wasn’t being dramatic.”

“Yeah, but... everyone heard.”

“Oh fuck off,” she pushes your shoulder and stomps past you.

You feel bad. It’s not that she shouldn’t defend herself. You admire that she can, but she didn’t need to be so obnoxious. You trail after her into the casino. She heads directly for the bar. You hang your head and wait behind her. This time, she doesn’t offer you a drink. She’s mad at you now so it’s the silent treatment.

“Honey,” another man approaches, “how about I get that for you?”

“Huh?” She babbles, “oh, sure, baby, that’s sweet.”

The man offers his card to the bartender and orders a highball. He leans his arm on the tall bar top as he faces your sister. She bats her lashes at him and giggles as she pulls her drink closer.

“What’s your name, gorgeous?” He asks.

You blink. It’s like you’re not even there. You watch awkwardly, wishing the floor would swallow you up. Instead, you find an empty stool one seat away.

“Roxie,” she answers as you struggle up onto the seat. “And you, handsome?”

“Sam,” he returns, “what’re you drinking then?”

You notice him touch her glass along the brim but can’t see much else around your sister. She replies and his own drink is served. You shrink down and sigh. She’ll get her free drink and then you can just leave. You hope. You hold your chin as you dread another scene.

“Can I get ya something?” The bartender approaches.

“Er, water, please,” you choke out. He seems disappointed but gets you a glass.

You try not to overhear your sister and that man. It’s awkward and you hate this. It’s not the first time she’s done it either. The few times she’s brought you along, you’ve somehow become a third wheel. It reminds you of when you were kids and your mom forced her to take you with her somewhere. She doesn’t actually want you around, she’s genetically obligated.

“Woah, baby, you okay?” The man raises his voice and your sister’s body slumps. Shoot. No.

You barely get off the stool as the man clings to her drooping body. She giggles wildly as you tweak your ankle and rush over. That man, Sam he called himself, seems somewhat calm given the situation.

“Slow down, babe,” he chortles, “Jesus.”

She’s drunk. You knew she shouldn’t have had another drink. Your eyes meet Sam’s and he squints.

“You know her?”

“My sister,” you murmur.

“Oh, right, well...” he clears his throat and looks around, “you can take care of her then.”

“Wait--” you barely keep her up as she leans on you as she’s almost sideways on the stool.

He’s just leaving you? What the heck? You guess if he can’t get anything out of her, she isn’t worth the effort.

You sniff and struggle to slide your sister down to her feet. She’s heavier than you expect and her height makes her difficult to balance. You glance over as the bartender nears.

“Everything okay?” He asks sternly.

“We’re leaving,” you assure him, “sorry.”

“Five minutes,” he taps his watch face, “or I call security.”

You nod and move your arm around your sister’s back, “please, Rox, gotta work with me.”

She laughs again, “hey, where’d that cute guy go?”

“Please,” you beg again, “don’t...”

“Oh, hi,” she touches your faces and squeezes your cheeks, “baby sister.”

You hate when she’s like this. She’s always been a drinker, ever since high school when her friends would sneak out bottle from their parents’ stash. What was once an act of rebellion as a teen is now concerning as an adult.

“Excuse me, everything okay?” The timbre makes your heart drop and you nearly let go of Roxie as she leans in the other direction.

You look up. Oh god. It’s him. That dark-haired man in his expensive suit.

“I’m just... we’re on our way out--”

“She alright?” He points at your sister.

“Tipsy,” you utter.

“I see,” he pushes his hair back as it slips forward, “can I help?”

“Uh, you don’t--”

Before you can answer, he has your sister’s other arm. He almost lifts her entire weight off of you as he supports her against his shoulder. Your entire body is emblazoned in humiliation. You refuse to look above the floor as you’re certain you must have an audience.

You get your sister across the floor and into a hallway. There's an exit sign ahead but you're all turned around. The man stops you and Roxie.

"Where'd you park?" He asks, "this leads to Lot 5."

"Oh, uh..." you blanch. You hadn't thought of any of that. You slouch under Roxie's weight and try to see around her. "I'm not sure but... I don't drive. She was supposed to."

"Ah," he clucks, "and now she can't."

"Right," you agree glumly, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Why?" He asks.

"I didn't think... I let her--"

"Did you let her drink or did she make that choice knowing she was supposed to get behind a wheel?" He challenges.

"I guess... yeah. Sorry."

"Really, doll, no need to keep going on like that," he dismisses, "well, it's late and I can't in good conscience let you wander out with her like this. Especially if you don't have a way home."

"I could..." you begin. A taxi? You'd have to ask your mom to pay the driver when you get home. "Why would you... care?"

"Well, as the owner of this establishment, it won't look good on me if two pretty girls left and went missing," he chuckles then stops himself, "sorry, that's not funny. I just... we overserved your sister obviously so it's on us."

"Owner?" You gulp. You didn't think this could be any more humiliating.

"Bucky," he reaches around you sister.

You hesitate. You can't shake his hand properly as yours is around your sister so you just sorta grab his hand briefly and squeeze two fingers, retracting with another raze of embarrasment. You barely squeak out your name.

He repeats your name before he continues, "I'll get you two a room so she can sober up."

"What? No. That's... too much."

"It's late," he insists, "here," he pulls Roxie away from you as her head lolls and she snorts. He lifts her against his chest, carrying her easily. "I know a back way, just follow my lead, doll."

"Ummmmm," you drone and he waltzes back the way he came, hardly detered by the drunken body in his arms. You can only kick yourself and scramble after him. This night could not have ended any worse. Well, you guess it could if it went the way he suggested.

[stsgluver]

synopsis. gojo satoru always wins.

wc. 880

tags. gojo x reader, fluff, spoilers for 236, possible spelling mistakes I have not proofread this (do I ever?)

a/n. currently clearing out all my old wips. i've already written this in a different version I think but idc bc if i write about him coming home enough times he will eventually do it. my next few works are probs going to be my rich boy!gojo drafts

there was a brief moment when the world stilled. the air was squeezed from your lungs as everything around you slowly began to spin and you weren’t sure the last time you had slept – had it been that long that the hallucinations were finally starting to kick in?

“oh my god.” those were the only words you could utter in your state of disbelief. you couldn’t close your eyes: you couldn’t risk him disappearing. if you were brave enough, you’d reach out to trace the new scars carved into his porcelain skin.

“you can’t say that, you know how my ego is,” gojo looked as gorgeous as ever, arm raised as he leant against the doorframe of his apartment. the same apartment you’d set up camp in nineteen days ago and had only left when yuuji brought you some food. you’d lost too much to process and you were a shell of the person gojo had kissed goodbye to before he left for shibuya. there were deep purple bags under your eyes, your hair was loosely tied back in a messy bun that probably hadn’t been properly washed or brushed in several days and your clothes were probably just gojo’s – you’d been desperate for some sense of familiarity. 

he looked like he hadn’t just been sealed away in another realm. the only evidence of a struggle were his new scars that seemed to decorate every inch of available skin, beyond that he looked excited to be alive, his fitted clothes clinging to him. his cursed energy was terrifyingly immense and you knew him well enough to know he was still riding off of a high that came with fighting for him. 

you were scared to ask who had been the opponent – never would the world’s strongest sorcerer be injured and not cause equal amounts of harm in return. he had a title to uphold after all, something to prove.

“not even a hello?” he shook his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he tsked you. he was so casual in his mannerisms, playing it all off as though he hadn’t spent what felt like an eternity counting down the seconds so that he could see you again. “you can’t have forgotten me that quickly.” he was practically whining now, desperate for the love and warmth you gave him but not daring to cross the threshold and smother you. 

you weren’t a sorcerer and though you understood some of his world, there was so much more that you didn’t. gojo would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared that one day it would be too overwhelming for you and you’d leave him like everyone else had. 

so he did what he did best: masked his insecurities with a sarcastic humour that held no bite: “don’t tell me there’s another man in the house.”

you smiled, and blinked, and you were suddenly here again; in the moment with him and not a thousand miles away wondering what the hell he’d been through. a lone tear slipped down your cheek and gojo ached to wipe it away.

“are you… are you real?” your voice was still shaky and if it wasn’t for the complete silence, you doubted that he would’ve been able to hear you. 

but he did, and then his arm is up against the doorframe again and he was gesturing to his physique as he complimented himself, “super powerful, mega rich and dashingly handsome? i know how perfect i may seem but i’m very real.” he winked and suddenly it was like you remembered that you have free will, practically jumping into his arms.

gojo wasn’t phased as he tucked you tightly into his body, his cursed technique completely dropped for the first time in what felt like forever. his body breathed a sigh of relief as his muscles ached.

“you’re such a jackass,” you lifted up your head to rest against his chest, eyes shining with tears that didn't fall.

gojo nodded slowly, brushing back the loose strands of your hair as he stared at you adoringly, “you love me.”

“mhmm,” you hummed, taking a step back from his longing arms to look up at him through your lashes. “y’know,” you traced a finger across the material on his chest, “you could make it up to me by closing your eyes.” his breath hitched ever so slightly under your touch. you leant in so that your lips almost touched his ear, “i need to kick my boytoy out. things could get kinda awkward if you two saw each other.”

it would be easier to list the things gojo wouldn’t do for you. he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, even going as far as to hold a hand over them. “how pretty is he on a scale of 1-10?”

there was a pause before you responded, as you took in every inch of the man that stood before you. a god in a mortal’s body. one that lived and breathed and worshipped you. “he’s gorgeous,” you whispered, breathless simply from his existence alone. and then he’s smiling and laughing and picking you up, spinning you in a circle and telling you how much he loves you and for a few brief seconds he’s just satoru and you’re just his.

[fangirl6202]

WIP Snippet

“I hope you guys are hungry,” Jake says as he leads them into the kitchen.

“Son, you shouldn't have,” Ice says but sits down regardless.

“I tried telling him not to, but I've learned there's no winning with this one,” Bradley rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, yelping when Jake swats him with his rolled up apron. Both laugh and Maverick can feel his heart constricting in his chest. The scene in front of him is so familiar. This house, the smell of food, the mustache and Hawaiian shirt. For a second he doesn’t see Bradley, but rather he sees Goose. Young, alive, laughing goodnaturedly with a smiling blonde, laying out dish after dish on the table. Not out of politeness but because they wanted to, wanted to nourish anyone who stepped into the Bradshaw home.

Carol Bradshaw nee Bennett had been a Southern woman to her bones, a Georgia peach who had a sweet accent and a tongue-cracking wit. Mav had always thought of her as whiskey in a teacup; demure and dainty on the outside but with a kick that wouldn’t go unnoticed. She would have loved Jake.

Tom places a hand on his shoulder, and he can see his husband’s eyes have gone misty. He knows why. These two kids have placed them right back in 1986.

“Carol would be proud to see someone use this kitchen again,” Tom says in a low steady voice, and it stops both boys in their tracks. “It’s been… it’s been too long.”

[cmkinkbingo2024]

It’s time to get kinky! Welcome to Criminal Minds Kink Bingo 2024.

The goal of a bingo challenge is to get a bingo on your card, either by crossing out one line, two lines, or a blackout (full card) by creating fanworks for the prompts randomly provided on the card.

This could be a written piece of a minimum 500 words, a piece of finished art, or another kind of fanwork of your choosing.

Please note that this challenge and blog is for people 18+ only.

Timelines/Deadlines

Until sign ups open, we are accepting kink nominations to be included as options via our ask box. We have a list already, but we will add to it if something is missing.

Sign ups start on May 1st 2024 and will be open until May 15th.

Individual cards will be issued by May 22nd, and the event officially starts on May 26th (you can start creating as soon as you receive your bingo card).

As soon as the event starts on May 26th, you can post fanworks whenever they’re created, in whatever place you prefer. You can tag your fills, bingo updates or WIPs with #cmkinkbingo2024 on tumblr. We also have a collection on AO3 for your works here.

You have until July 31st 2024 to complete your bingos!

How Bingo Works

Lines can be made by crossing out squares in any direction - horizontal, vertical, or diagonal. To cross out a square, use the prompt on it to create and post a fanwork.

You will choose from a large list of potential prompts, marking the ones you would be happy to have generated on a 5x5 square bingo card. This will also allow you to exclude prompts you would not be happy to have to create for. 

While that does mean you could create the perfect bingo card, we encourage you to select upwards of 25 prompts, to allow for some randomness in the challenge.

Every card will have a free space in the middle, where you have the option to choose a prompt yourself. 

You can request additional bingo cards if you complete a line, 2 lines or a full house and want to try for a second win!

Rules/Guidelines

No plagiarism, art theft or AI generated content will be tolerated in works for this challenge. Participants/works will be excluded at our discretion in these circumstances.

You can post your fanworks wherever you prefer.

Just like kinks are not always sexual, works do not have to be explicit to be entered. As long as it relates to the prompt, SFW content is entirely allowed. 

Some of the kinks utilized in this challenge will fall under “real world” kinks, and others under things considered a kink in the context of fanwork creation.

You are responsible for how much you stick to the spirit of the challenge - ultimately this is meant to be fun, and to spur people to be creative, and create content for a fandom we love!

Safety/Your Kink Is Not My Kink

Some of the kinks listed may indicate extreme, upsetting, triggering content, or content you personally find immoral, or that “squicks” you. You are ultimately responsible for the content you consume - if something is not for you, scroll past and/or use the necessary blocking/muting features to exclude this content from your feed.

Please make sure to tag and rate all works appropriately for their content, such as using Archive of Our Own’s warning, rating and tag system, or tumblr’s ‘read more’ function.

You can add any fills posted on Archive of Our Own to the collection here.

Please check out the Frequently Asked Questions, or send us an ask if you have another question!

[stvrmhondss]

it was breaking down (it was falling in love) snippet

max/charles 3.1k words

this is from a wip that is currently in development. we're in 2025, charles and max are fighting each other for the championship for the first time since 2022. max, as always, in red bull. charles, by the grace of god, still in ferrari. it gets complicated.

The party after the last race before summer break isn’t a tradition officially, but somehow there’s always been one; a simple text in the drivers’ group chat letting them know that xyz and I are getting drinks later, you’re all welcome to join and when the rest of them show up to the address provided, there’s somehow always an entire house rented and seemingly bottomless drinks. It’s one of those mysteries of F1 that Charles thinks he’ll never crack.

For the past few years the summer break kickoff has been an opportunity for him to celebrate, not in a let’s raise a glass to a good first half of the season way, but more of a thank god that’s over kind of way. It had always consisted of systematically knocking back glass after glass until he’d been drunk enough to let whatever girlfriend he’d had at the time drag him onto the dancefloor, if he’d had one at the time.

(He always did.)

(Except this year)

For the first time in his F1 career, Charles is leading the championship at the start of the summer break and instead of forcing every driver and his own mechanics to have a drink with him, he’s making himself as small and invisible as possible in a corner, right beside a potted palm tree that straddles the line between looking extremely well cared for and extremely fake. He’s been nursing the same cocktail for almost an hour and has avoided every driver, staffer or intern who wanted to drink to his championship charge. He’s not in the mood. He’s even managed to chase away Alex and Lily to the bar, if just temporarily, his teammate vowing to get him another round to pull him out his funk.

Instead he’s been letting his gaze roam over the open floor, taking note of the people there and pretending he isn’t looking for Max. It’s going semi-well. Charles hadn’t seen him when he’d entered the house with Alex and he hasn’t spotted him since. He’s also been too much of a coward to just grab someone, another driver or a stray Red Bull intern, and ask them whether they’d seen him, whether he’s even here at all. Maybe, it’s for the best – he wouldn’t know what to say to Max anyway. Have you tried a simple ‘I’m sorry’? The voice in his head sounds suspiciously like Pierre and it has him take a long sip from his glass.

The horrible thing is, Pierre is right. He should really apologise, but it’s been so long since their fight in Monaco and the silence between them has gotten so loud, he wouldn’t know where to start. He’s also not entirely sure Max wouldn’t just walk away from him if he were to approach him now. Hence his hiding in the corner.

After emptying his glass, he looks around the room again. He spots Lewis on the dance floor, chatting up a model he knows for a fact is too young for him. A little ways off to the side he sees Lando hanging off of his Max’s shoulders and Charles tries valiantly to ignore the ugly twisting of his insides. It reminds him of Imola, just a few short months ago – how Max had told him to let go for once and had stood vigil as he’d gotten drunk and celebrated his first win on Italian soil since 2019, how Max had let him cling to him when he hadn’t been able to stand upright on his own anymore and then had called them both a taxi and had gotten him home. Funny how he’d managed to ruin it all with a single sentence.

Charles is pulled out of his thoughts by wild waving in his periphery and when he turns his head he spots Pierre over by a window with his new girlfriend, whose name Charles had forgotten the minute he’d been introduced to her, obviously trying to get his attention. Confused, he shakes his head and mouths a What? in his direction, to which Pierre starts pointing in the direction of the door in response, an insistent look on his face. Charles turns his head just in time to see Daniel Ricciardo enter the party and he’d wonder about seeing him here when he’d given up his AlphaTauri seat last year in favour of a go in Indycar, if following right behind him wasn’t—

Max.

Charles watches as they’re stopped by multiple people on their way in – there’s plenty of hugs for Daniel and claps on the shoulder for Max – and make a beeline for the impromptu bar. Daniel sees him about halfway there and Charles fights and consequently loses against the urge to shrink in on himself when the instinctive smile he throws at everyone turns into a scowl at the sight of him. So, Max had told him then. Charles doesn’t know what else he’d expected.

(Not this. He hadn’t even known they were still close.)

Max doesn’t look at him once.

He should stop staring, knows it very well won’t help his case in any way, but his eyes stay glued to Max’s form, taking him in – blonde hair, blue eyes, standard white t-shirt and jeans. All viewed from afar, as has become standard over the past few weeks. Charles wants to kick himself. He wonders what would happen if he were to throw aside his pride and cowardice and go over to him now, if he asked to speak to him, to explain. Would Max even spare him a glance? Would he frown and grumble and tell him to fuck off? Would Daniel’s scowl become more severe and would he tell him to get lost?

He doesn’t plan on finding out.

So he watches. Watches as Daniel leans exaggeratedly over the bar to order some drinks and then back to whisper something in Max’s ear that has him laugh in that full-body way of his – head thrown back and hands clasped together, then bending forward, eyes crinkled at the corners and nose scrunched up. Full of delight, full of life. When Max seems to have calmed down a little he moves closer to Daniel, a mischievous look on his face, no doubt saying something just as cheeky in return, and Charles sees Daniel break out in one of his honking laughs before throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in. Just for a moment, Max rests his head on his shoulder and Daniel turns his face into his hair. Just for a moment. Blink and you miss it.

And Charles? Well, Charles wants to die.

Alex and his tray full of drinks are a godsend, Lily clearing the way for him as they come back to join him in his miserable corner, and Charles grabs a glass and knocks it back before Alex even has a chance to put the tray down. When he puts the glass back down, Lily lets out a hoot, slapping the table, while Alex scoffs at him goodnaturedly.

“Were you raised in a barn, mate?” He’s chuckling, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. “Where I’m from, you wait until everyone has a glass and then you drink like your life depends on it.” Next to him, Lily cackles, pressing the next drink into his hand and then grabbing one for herself.

“Sorry,” he’s not, really, only tangentially in the way that Alex has been a good sport ever since his fight with Max, letting him be miserable and not making him explain why, and Charles feels bad for making him put up with his bad mood when it’s his first season in the team and he should be having fun instead of babysitting him. But then again, misery and Ferrari go hand in hand and Alex should probably learn to live and work with that, if he wants to survive in the team.

Charles’ fingers itch for another drink.

“Oh, who cares?” Lily raises her glass and waits for them to mirror her. “Let’s fucking party!”

Right before he knocks back his drink, Charles spares another glance over to Max and Daniel, just to see, just because he’s feeling curious and maybe a little masochistic, pressing a finger into an open wound. What he sees makes him down half of the contents of his tall glass all at once – Max is fully pressed into Daniel’s side, Daniel’s arm around his waist, fingers on that tantalising dip of it that Charles had found himself staring at more than once, and Daniel’s once again leaning in, whispering something into his ear that makes him smile. Charles wants to throw up.

He loses track of how much he drinks after that.

One, two, ten hours later, he looks up from his fourth – twelfth? – glass and sees Max making his way over to and up a stairwell that he vaguely remembers leads to a balcony. He’s alone, Daniel nowhere in sight. Without a second thought, he excuses himself from the table and stumbles over to follow him before Alex and Lily can protest. The way up the stairs is perilous and he has to cling to the bannister to hold himself upright, hoping he’s not making so much noise he gives himself away. 

When he finally reaches the balcony, he finds it miraculously empty, except for Max, standing at the railing and looking out into the night. A few lanterns bathe him in soft, warm light and Charles’ heart squeezes painfully in his chest. He’s so beautiful, always has been in his own way, the charmingly gangly, awkward teenage limbs turned strong and broad, handsome. Growing up alongside Max had been complicated and a little painful – at 15 years old, how do you know you hate the guy you’re competing against because of his dirty tricks and raw talent and not because his eyes are as blue as a summer sky? How do you know your palms are sweaty because of the adrenaline of a good fight on track and not because he smirked at you right before he put his helmet on? They’re questions Charles has never quite managed to answer and is keenly reminded of now at 27 years old, standing on a balcony somewhere in Belgium with his heart beating out of his chest at the mere sight of Max. He doesn’t think he’ll ever have a clear answer. 

His drunken lean to the side has him knock over a decorative cat figurine with a loud clang, startling Max in front of him like a deer hearing a sudden noise in what it had assumed to be an empty clearing. He whips around and when he sees Charles trying to right himself, an unhappy scowl settles on his pretty lips.

“What do you want, Charles?”

I want to go back in time and smack myself for what I said to you. I want you to smile at me like you used to, like you smiled at Daniel and I don’t know what that means. I want us to be okay. I want to win and I want you by my side when I do. I want us to be alright.

“Nothing, I just—,” he’s pretty sure he’s slurring, which seems to not be helping his case as Max’s expression doesn’t lighten. In fact, it does the opposite, making Charles trail off, falling quiet as Max looks at him expectantly. He doesn’t remember what he’d originally wanted to say, so instead he throws out the first thing that comes to his mind after Your eyes have the colour of a storm I once saw while out at sea.

“You haven’t talked to me since Monaco,” it’s meant as an explanation, but once the words leave his mouth, they sound like an accusation. Max’s frown deepens, his eyebrows furrowing and the corners of his mouth pulling further down. A little more and he’d be pouting. It’s one of the things that’s never changed about him, Charles ponders idly. That stormy, unhappy frown. The only difference between a 27 year old and a 13 year old Max Verstappen frowning at him is a missing, involuntary flush to his cheeks and the lack of acne. The other boys had always made fun of him for it back then – how easily he’d flush, how quickly he’d get irritated. Charles had never minded either; he’d thought it made Max seem more alive.

Now, Max looks alive in a primordial sense, the way the earth itself is – burning, blazing, vengeful.

“Well, I wonder why,” his voice is venomous, face twisted in an ugly sneer, “I wonder why I would not be speaking to you after Monaco.”

Charles feels helpless, like a fumbling child. “No, no, that’s not what I meant—“ But he doesn’t know how to actually express what he wants to say, his mind foggy and slow. He wants to curse Alex for bringing that entire tray of drinks to the table. 

He continues to stutter, without saying anything of worth, and he can see Max is losing what little patience he’d had to begin with and – yes, there’s that angry, red flush that’s been missing in his cheeks before.

“Do you actually have anything to say to me,” Max’s shoulders are heaving, his breath heavy, “or do you just want to waste my time and stand here, staring at me like a drunk idiot?”

It’s meant to cut him and it does; Charles flinches from the impact, sure that if he were to raise his fingers to his cheek, they’d come away bloody. The thing is, he has so much to say, so many things that have been long overdue, that he should’ve said months, maybe years ago, but now that he has Max in front of him, in all his furious beauty, his brain can’t put the words in order, can’t form the sentences he needs to say to salvage whatever he had, could’ve had, with Max. The alcohol isn’t helping either.

In his drunken stupidity, he says the worst thing he could possibly say in this moment.

“I saw you with Daniel, earlier.”

It’s horrible, it’s the dumbest thing he’s ever said. It does nothing to convey what he actually wants Max to hear, instead he manages to make it sound like an accusation again when all he’d wanted to say was I saw you with Daniel earlier and you looked happy, happier than you have over the past few weeks and I wanted to kick myself for being the source of your sadness, when I only want to see you smile and laugh and be joyful. 

Max’s face is wrathful, his breath quickening and Charles isn’t quite sure whether he’s just imagining the thunder he hears in the distance.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” his voice is tight, controlled and shaking with white hot rage. Charles resists the urge to flinch. He deserves Max’s anger and he’ll take it. He’ll take anything Max is still willing to give him.

“I haven’t heard from you in weeks, and yet you complain about me not talking to you when you haven't even tried to speak with me. I thought you needed time to cool off, so I gave you space, of course, but you keep insisting on this childish grudge over nothing. You ignore me, give me the cold shoulder, and say to the press that we’re not friends when I did nothing you wouldn’t have done if you’d been in my place. Mind you, I didn’t even say anything to the media when I damn well should’ve, but of course, you still find something to complain about.”

Max is panting and the toll this entire conversation is having on him is evident in the pinched corners of his mouth, however, he doesn’t seem to be done just yet.

“And now, for the first time in what feels like ages, I’m having a fun night and you decide to pester me and complain about me spending it with Daniel, when it’s none of your business? When you and I, as you’ve insisted, are nothing?”

Charles reels back from the impact as if Max had physically slapped him across the face. You and I are nothing. He sees champagne showers in Australia. You and I are nothing. Breaking into the Circuit de Monaco at night. You and I are nothing. Max scaring everyone into packing their phones away when Charles had been drunk and without inhibitions in Imola. You and I are nothing. Dancing in the streets of Miami at night.

You and I are nothing.

It’s terrible.

He deserves it.

Max prepares to breeze past him back inside and Charles instinctively grabs onto his arm to make him stay, to make him not leave him. His movements are slow and his grip as weak as a kitten, Max could shake him off easily, but he doesn’t. He glares at him, a fire raging in his eyes, and opens his mouth to undoubtedly berate him again. Deliriously, Charles remembers that the hottest flames burn blue.

Before he can think better of it, his lips fit themselves over Max’s, quelling any upcoming rant. Any rational or coherent thought dies out in his mind and when he tries to think of any reasons why this is the worst thing he could do, he gets as far as Max’s lips are soft before he loses the thread and closes his eyes.

Horribly, Charles feels a startled hum against his lips and then Max is leaning in, letting him carefully cradle his face with his free hand. He’s even allowed to deepen the kiss, sneaking his tongue past Max’s lips and sliding his hand in his hair, and for an exhilarating moment he has Max in the palms of his hands, warm and lovely, and he wants to keep him like this for as long as he’s allowed to.

When Max recoils from his touch, it’s with enough force to send him stumbling backwards. The look on his face is devastating when Charles opens his eyes again. There’s a storm brewing in his eyes – anger, disappointment, fear, pain. Charles feels monstrous. His mouth opens and closes several times, but no words make it out alive. 

To Charles’ horror, there’s tears pooling at the corners of Max’s eyes. Regret is a bitter, nasty thing to swallow and he knows his face must be doing something complicated and sad. He finds his voice in the most inopportune of moments.

“Max, I—,” he sounds scratchy and choked up, even to his own ears, and Max doesn’t let him get any further, storming past him through the open balcony doors and back inside, knocking their shoulders together in his desperation to get away from him and sending Charles careening into a potted plant. As he picks his way out of the leaves, he hears a door slam inside.

Charles looks up at the stars and wishes that just for once, he wouldn’t ruin everything he loves.

[ifievertoldyou]

the long awaited wip graveyard post

i thought the title was fitting for halloween :p

this post is an assorted collection of all my old thaw wips that i deemed not good enough to post, but didn't want to just rot away in my folder, so now they're here.

enjoy !

-

the Eye post

fun fact: i used the same seven colored pencils for both the thes eye and the tommy one, i just made the grayer shades more emphasized for the latter. thought that was a neat little detail.

q's eye here makes his skin look a lil more purple

i impulsively gave quackity an eyebrow when i didn't sketch it before, and the way it turned out bothered me >:((

not a wip because i absolutely would never give this abomination its own post, but this is basically what my scratch paper sheet looks like when i want to test out how different colors look with each other, and also get a really, Really rough idea of what the final product will look like. this is the process i go through Every time i draw something serious. 😭

peep all 7 colors of the chaosduo's eyes under the thes eye practice

LMAO AND THE THES FACE 8 SECOND SKETCH LOOKS LIKE HE'S ON DRUGS IT'S SO SILLY

can you see me struggling to figure out how to wrap the rune around q's pupil? and also how to make the rune not just Completely disappear bc of how dark his eye is? yeah. traditional art is a pain is the ass sometimes, but i'm still wayy better at it.

also shoutout to @alexanderwesker for giving me an idea of what the rune on q's eye looks like, because i like being as accurate as i can when i draw stuff, so that was very much appreciated!

the part 2 to the hero's journey comic

i went fucking Ham during the hero's journey assignment, so much so that i literally planned like 19 more panels than what you saw in the original post (27 panels planned in total). but then i realized that i had like Four Whole Days to do that assignment, and would definitely not be able to do that many, especially not without burning out.

so i instead settled for the very first 8 panels that i planned (though even then, i had to abridge a lot of it, and also cut slime entirely from it, bc otherwise those 8 would have been 14 whole panels, and i think i would actually die-), since that was just enough to show two different steps of the hero's journey (crossing the threshold and meeting the mentor btw. i could probably do a whole analysis on how wesker's stories fit into the hero's journey if i wanted to, but i'm lazy rn and this post is already pretty long), and that was the big grading requirement. (i got 100% on that assignment btw 💪and my english teacher still has no clue that he graded minecraft fanfiction fanart LMAO) but this one is what i would have included if i had more time on the project, and could include more of the story, but as it stands, i made this one in my own leisure, because comics are fun to do.

anyways, with that little rant aside, i tried my best to make q look younger than quackity, and really accentuate the difference between them. idk how i feel about how q turned out though.

i'm really proud of the paneling, and i'm also kinda proud of the first frame with quackity's face in particular bc i thought it looked cool, like an actual comic book or something. but i couldn't figure out the card physics or perspective and that's what ultimately made me choose to abandon it 💔 maybe i'll try attempting this page again when i'm feeling more daring (as well as the other panels that i still haven't even drawn yet), but this wip has been collecting dust for a couple of months now so i figured i'd share it here anyway.

Palido

i drew palido a bit ago, but bro got somehow managed to get crinkled in my bag, even while literally being Inside of my sketchbook 🤨

it's not Too awfully noticeable though, especially bc the fold isn't On the drawing itself, so i might be able to salvage him and post a finished version someday... but i kinda halted progress on him for the time being bc of it, so here he is. </3

"Am I Still Even Me?"

i 1000% want to redraw this someday, just because i think the idea behind it is so fucking neat.

honestly, this one wasn't too bad at all, especially since i did all of it (besides the bones bc i think my health professions teacher would be disappointed if i got them wrong, and also the rune bc i care way too much about accuracy) without any reference, which is a pretty impressive feat for me and my aphantasia. but yeahh i think it could definitely be better, and really, this drawing was ultimately something that i just drew in class to keep myself busy for a bit bc i had way too much freetime that day. it wasn't intended to be post-worthy or anything.

but i think that the idea behind it is definitely post-worthy. maybe i'll even add a thes and/or youngerbur addition once i get more information about them and just how they've changed yk.

i had no clue how to draw the bones in that position, i probably could've done more research but. yeah no i don't have an excuse, i just couldn't be bothered that day lmao.

i was also gonna bloody q's hands a bit if i ever got to the coloring stage. like a little nod to when he lost himself to Madness. is the blood actually there? who knows, we're seeing it from his eyes, so for all we know, the rune isn't even lit up either, and he's just remembering it being so. remembering the moment he acted so unlike how he used to be.

the bones are definitely there for charlie though, poor guy...

also can y'all tell that i drew the rune in like. 5 seconds. bc yeah.

i had way more wips to share but i have literally no clue where they went, and also the tumblr picture limit is getitng close so ig that's all for now </3

like for a part 2 (whenever i accumulate enough wips to warrant a post, that is)

[alder-saan]

His sister...

Larissa x normie! fem! reader

OKAY this is the second time I post it bcz... well that was a wip and I posted it... I hate myself right now. Anyway I have to re-wright it. All of it. But that's okay :) (no that's not I wanna end myself)

Warnings : smut (that's the first time I write smut lol (the second as I already wrote this fic)) (the smut isn't with Larissa)

You are Larissa's brother's wife.

word count: ~3000

(I know this will look a bit like Mme Bovary, but... well, it's not a classic of French literature for nothing)

You had married Philip Weems two months earlier. You didn’t love him. He was eleven years older than you, and not really your type. In fact you didn’t really choose to be his wife and to live in his house. Your father and him wanted to reunite their companies, and you were only there to make it look less commercial. You were here to give an heir. Lovely mission, you were not a woman anymore, you were a baby machine. He had flirted with you before you took the deal, probably to build up your confidence and make it easier for you to accept the situation, but now that you were his, he didn't pay any attention to you.

In his big house, your life was boring. You didn't have a degree, school was never really for you and because your father was rich, you never had to work. So naturally you had resumed reading. It allowed you to live a different life through the eyes of all the characters. And all day long you would read more and more of those mushy novels, dreaming of a life that was no longer available to you. You also started writing, but without telling anyone. It was a bit of a secret. You wrote the romantic stories you imagined all day. And then every day you went out to see your friends in a café in your neighbourhood.

“I promise, Jess’, he doesn’t bother me. I mean, he’s respectful. And I don’t need to work. A win is a win.”

Your friend Jessica narrowed her eyes.

“You sure ? I mean… you always told me you wanted to marry the love of your life when you’d find him.”

“I was younger, Jess’. I don’t believe in this bullshit anymore.”

Yes, you did believe it. You wanted to cry about it. You wanted to know Love. The Real Love. You wanted to meet him by accident in a library, or in a hostel, on the other side of the world. You wanted him to be young, at the same age as you, and you wanted him to love you.

You also wanted to work, to earn your own money.

“Respectful, okay but is he good?” Mary asked

“He is kind, if this is your question.” You pretended not to understand.

“You know what I mean, Y/N.”

“Not really, I doubt he is really interested in me. I mean I am probably too young for him. We just do it because that was a part of the contract, but he never makes me finish. Anyway I don’t need him for that.”

“You don’t love him and he doesn’t look after you. What a nightmare…” Jessica said.

“That’s not that bad. I don't have to worry about money, I have all my days to myself. I can look after myself.“

That wasn’t a positive thing in your opinion. You wanted to be independent. You wanted to be able to do whatever you could want. This made you feel like you were an object, some kind of trophy that he could show off at the parties you attended. You were there to be beautiful and to be silent. 

No, the real positive thing was that you now understood your mother, and why she left you when you were a child. Your father always told you she was a bad mother and she didn’t love you. And before you got married, you were mad at her. But you knew, now you were married to a man you didn’t love. She didn’t love you, but she probably never wanted this marriage nor a child. You were thinking of leaving once you'd given Philip a child, the way she did before.

You wanted to find her, and to talk to her. You wanted to know the story of her life, of her marriage to your father. You also wanted to tell her that you understood her, and that you were no longer angry at her for abandoning you. If she hadn't wanted to be your mother, you wanted her to be your friend, because you were going through something she had gone through too..

“Alright girls, I gotta go. See you tomorrow!” You waved at them and left the café after paying for your drink.

It was time for you to go back to your home. Your husband would be home in less than half an hour. You had to help Livia cook. It wasn't in the contract, but you wanted to do it. Livia, although she spoke very little English, made you feel less lonely. She spoke to you in her half-Spanish English about her travels with her family. Even though she often told the same stories, you liked to hear her talk about places you had never seen. Especially when she talked about the sea of clouds over the Sierra Madre. You dreamed of going there. She told you that when she came back to visit her parents, she could take you there. But you knew your husband wouldn't let you go... And then you helped her to speak better English, she had made progress in the last two months. She taught you Spanish too, but for now, the only things you could say were "Soy Y/N, no me gusta mi marido" and some names of foods and ingredients.

Then, your husband would go home, and you would have dinner. He would watch tv, and the both of you would go to bed, and you would have to fuck. 

Soon, he would fall asleep next to you.

And every night, after that, you used to imagine another man. Sometimes it was an explorer who would tell you about his many journeys, a writer who would make you read his most intimate texts, a painter who would take you for his muse... 

But that night, he was a sailor. A handsome sailor you would have met in the inn where you were working. He would have asked for a room for the night and a meal. And while you were serving him, he would have made a few passes at you, to which you would have responded by teasing him. If at the beginning, it would have been innocent, you would have quickly come to the point where he would have proposed you to spend the night with him, at the end of your service. To which you would have replied with a "maybe", but as soon as your boss allowed you to leave, you would have knocked on his door.

“I was wondering when you’d come…” he would tell you.

Then he would take your waist and hold you close. You would kiss him, and it would become wilder as his hands would travel to your ass. He would gently but firmly push you against the wall.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” He would whisper. You would know that was a lie, but you wouldn’t care. And he would know it.

He would kiss your neck while undressing you. And when you would be completely naked, he would sit you on the bed and spread your legs to kiss your inner thighs, then your clit. He would lick your arousal and you would moan his name.

In your bed, you were circling your clit, legs spread, a hand massaging your breast. You imagined his head facing your wet pussy, saying you were tasting divine, his hands all over your body, caressing your skin. You were already so close and as he would ask you to hold on a little, you waited a few seconds before allowing you to come. 

Next to you, your husband was sleeping.

Soon, you fell asleep too.

The sun was brushing your skin, slowly warming it. You opened your eyes. You were alone in your giant bed. Philip was already gone. You heard the clock striking nine. He used to leave the house near seven o’clock. You stretched your arms and legs and yawned. Watching towards the window, you could see the blue sky. This day promised to be good. You quickly showered and dressed up. Something simple. Black tights, dark skirt, white shirt. A safe bet. But to add a small personal touch, you clipped a blue tit pin on your shirt. 

You always liked blue tit. Firstly because they were cute. A tiny bird, yellow and blue, with a kind of large eye liner and white cheeks. Secondly because you wished to go to Europe once. You wanted to travel to Austria, or Germany, and this Eurasian tit symbolised this dream.

Maybe one day you would quit New Hampshire.

Something on the dresser caught your eye. Some 50 dollar notes had been put there by your husband. He had written a message on a piece of paper: "so you can go shopping today, we have a guest for lunch".

You frowned and crumpled the paper. So he wanted you to look good with his guest, uh? 

“I’m not a teen who needs pocket money.” you grumbled. 

You put on black shoes, music in your earphones, and went out of the house. In the streets, the sun was warming the asphalt, and your steps led you almost automatically to the little café bakery in which you usually  bought your breakfast.

Opening the door, a smell of butter, sugar and vanilla reached your nostrils. By 9 am, not many people were left. But you would have noticed her in a crowd of thousands of people. She was sitting on a chair, a big cup of hot chocolate and a croissant on the table in front of her. Her blonde hair in a perfect updo, she wore a clear blue dress. She was looking at the window, her phone in one hand. She was so tall… Your mouth went dry when you noticed her red lipstick as she turned her head towards you. She had caught you staring in the glass reflection. She gave you a smile, and you were sure your cheeks became as red as her lips. You turned your head to the counter to order, removing your earphones.

Were you just staring at a woman?

Did she just smile at you?

You glanced over your shoulder. She was still looking at you, her blue eyes fixed on you, crossing her legs. She took a sip in her cup.

“Hot…” you whispered.

“Excuse me, Y/N?” the waiter asked.

“Yes-yes, Nicolas, er, I-I want a-a hot chocolate please. And… and, er… a profiterole please. Takeaway.”

“Ready in a second.”

You couldn’t stand her look, it made your knees go weak. Was it what Jess called a “gay panic?”. You had to know and tipped a message.

: Hey, Jess

: What exactly is a gay panic?

She was quick to respond.

J: When you look at a girl and you want to like… kiss her. Immediately. And you can’t function properly bcz you think about her kissing you.

J: Why?

: There is this woman at Nic’ and Jane

: I never felt like this for a woman.

: She’s so beautiful, I want her lipstick on my lips and on my throat right now.

J: Oh my god

J: You’re gay!

: Am I?

J: You ARE.

“Y/N?” Nicolas said.

“Uh? Yes, it’s me”

“I have your hot chocolate and your profiterole.”

“Thanks”

“Is everything okay? You seem distracted…”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thank you. Is it okay if I pay later? I forgot my wallet at home.”

“Of course, whenever you want.”

You took the paper bag he handed to you and went out of the café-bakery. The fresh air was really needed. You put your earphones back on.

Who was she?

You had never seen her. 

Walking the street, you arrived in the big park in which you always ate your breakfast. Your favourite place was in a sort of hidden place, under a badly pruned weeping willow. There was a bench, and a little pond in which ducks used to swim when you were a kid, but now, there were only frogs left. Sometimes, a grey heron you named Alex was fishing in it. A grey heron in New Hampshire. That was the local attraction. It escaped an aviary two years ago and settled up in the park. No one tried to catch it. And now, it was the star of the neighbourhood's children, who often tried to find it. Sometimes, when it was in the pond, you would talk to it, as if it could understand what you were saying. And for the only answer, Alex would keep fishing, at the other side of the pond.

But this day, no Alex in the pond. And the frogs were happily jumping in the grass. The sunshine passing between the branches of the willow tree made thousands of small sun spots on the now shimmering  water. You wiped the bench full of willow leaves with your hand and sat there.

While drinking your hot chocolate, you thought about this woman, in the café bakery… 

You wanted to see her again…

You had just finished your hot chocolate and ate your pastry when you heard footsteps in your back. You hoped no one would pass the curtain of leaves which hid you from the world. You liked to be alone, daydreaming about people you would never see again… Shit, they entered your secret garden. You sighed.

“What a pleasant surprise!”

You turned your head. That was her. She was there, next to you. Your eyes widened, your cheeks went red.

“Hi-uh… Hello.” You managed to say.

“Y/N, isn’t it? Can I sit here?”

“Y-yes, of course. How-how do you know my name?”

“I heard the waiter say it.” She sat, smiling at you. “My name is Larissa.”

“Larissa…” you whispered. Her name was quite unusual, and you liked it, you liked the way it sounded. You couldn’t look at her so you just fixed the water.  But in your peripheral vision you saw her smirk.

“And I paid your order.”

You turned your head towards her. Big mistake, now you couldn't take your eyes off hers.

“Oh no, you shouldn’t have…”

“And you should have sat with me in the bakery. I’m glad I found you.”

“Wh-why?”

Her look went down on your lips. You felt your cheeks warming.

“I don’t know” she said “I thought you could show me a good time…”

“I-I want to pay you back.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

“Mh, if you really want to, there is something you could do.”

“And what is it?”

Her hand approached your cheek. You held your breath. Was she about to kiss you? Your heart hammered in your chest as she stared again at your lips. 

“I-I am a married woman.”

She froze. You held your breath. The wind blew and some willow leaves fell on you, the frogs and the pond.

“I’m sorry. I think I misunderstood your signals” She gave you a soft smile.

She started to pull her hand away from your cheek but you held it back.

“No you didn’t. I-I just thought that was unfair not to tell you.”

“I don’t understand…”

“That’s not a love marriage. I don’t love him, he doesn’t love me.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. You didn’t like this pity gaze on you.

“Don’t. That’s okay.”

“You know, I was almost forced into a marriage, so I think I can understand what you feel.”

Her? Her, forced into a marriage? You suddenly felt understood, and safe with her. She took your hand.

“My former fiancé learnt I wasn’t a normie and refused the marriage.”

“What do you mean by a normie? You mean straight?”

“Yeah, I mean straight.” She didn’t want to tell you she was an outcast.

“To be honest I learnt I wasn’t today.”

“Am I your gay awakening?” Her smile grew bigger as you nodded.

She kissed you. Her lips were soft. Both of her hands on your cheeks, yours were on her hips. She left a last kiss on your cheekbone and smiled.

“How about a walk? Maybe you could show me the city.” She said.

“Of course, follow me.” You smiled.

You stood up and the both of you came out from under the willow.

“What was yours?” you asked, leading her on a path in the park.

“My gay awakening?”

“Yes”

You looked at her looking at the big trees. 

“My brother’s first girlfriend. He always had good tastes in women. By the way, are you from this town? Because I’m visiting him, and he said he would send me the address but he seemed to have forgotten. Can’t blame him, he has a lot of work.”

“Yes, of course, I live in the neighbourhood. I might know him, what’s his name?”

“Philip Weems.”

You frowned. What did she say?

“I didn’t hear, can you repeat, please?”

“His name is Philip Weems.”

That was official, you just kissed your husband’s sister. What were you supposed to say? Was she the guest for lunch? 

“Are you okay? If you don’t know where he lives, that’s okay.”

“I know where he lives.”

“Good morning Mrs Weems” a gardener said.

“Goo-good morning, Mr Johnson. How are you today?” you replied.

Larissa frowned. Did she know him?

And you cursed him for saying that right now.

“I’m fine, and you?”

“I’m fine.”

And he continued sweeping the path beside you.

“Mrs Weems, uh? You’re Philip’s wife.”

“I am.”

She chuckled.

“That only makes you more attractive…”

_______________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed <3

[ladystardust-thinks]

high-achiever - e.u.

Request by: @stilessbaseballbat

Hello! Can I request an imagine with Eggsy where him and the reader are appointed to train the newbies, but they become too competitive and split the group in two - One is Eggsys group and the two the readers. They make a bed which group will pass the Kingsman training? (you can choose who wins and what the loser is going to have to do)

Eggsy Unwin x Fem!Reader

A/N: It hasn't been long since I got that request. Sure. I totally didn't have it in my wips since forever. Anyway, I feel a little boring because of the choice I made on who wins but eh it's okay. It was like 4am. I'm proud of the OCs though 'cause I think they're pretty lovable. (aka I love them and they're my pretty little babies so you also have to love them, no pressure.)

Any feedback, is good feedback!! Correct me on anything you think is wrong.

word count: 2.1k

Tags/Warnings: She/Her pronouns!!, Jealous Reader if you squint really hard, kinda ooc eggsy?, OC x OC, reader is an overachiever, bad writing? English is not my first language, I learned it entirely out of social media, mention of a dog being shot (but not really), mention of reader having a dog (again, only if you squint.), Use of Y/N

"Gawain! Get up!" Eggsy's voice echoes loudly through the woman's house as he swings all the curtains wide open. She winces at the sudden light and curses the boy through her teeth.

"Y'know Galahad, I have heard rumours about people saying good morning as a greeting. Also that is a total violation of privacy. Do you know that? It's important to me that you know that." The girl whines shoving her tired body towards the kitchen, pouring coffee in a mug.

"Good morning, Gawain." Eggsy pauses. "Alright, now, the trainees list just came in and Merlin told me we are to train them. So take a look at it." He pushes the papers towards her and she takes a sip from her coffee, not making an attempt to take the papers. She looks up at Eggsy like he had killed her whole family.

"Why are you all that excited?" She asks rhetorically, not waiting for an answer. "Well, first of all I've been there and it's interesting to see newbies in my position and second of all it's going to be something to add to my successes. I'm high already but I am aiming higher."

He answers in a matter-of-factly tone and sits opposite to the girl. "What makes you think you are going to be all that good at it. I mean I am going to be there sure but-" She was rudely cut off.

"Are you implying you are better than me, Gawain?" The agent says slowly with a smile forming on his face.

"I wasn't implying anything, actually. I thought that was obvious. But before you rudely cut me off and-" She grunts in annoyance. Yet again being interrupted. She didn't like being interrupted.

"Then we can put it to the test. Drink your coffee and get dressed we are going to HQ." He states and starts wandering around the house, almost too comfortable, opening her closet and pulling out her suit, throwing it on her bed.

"You're doing it, again! I don't really appreciate that! And how did you even get inside my house? I never gave you a key. The door was locked, the lock isn't broken. What the bloody hell! You can't just sneak in like that." The woman complains kicking Eggsy out of her room as she starts to change her clothes. "We are Kingsmen, Gawain. Nothing is ever locked." She heard him say behind the door.

***

The newbies were in their cabin and they looked terrified in this sort of fun way. Y/N couldn't help but wonder if she also looked that terrified her first day at HQ. No. She thought. She was too confident. Her friends and family were sure, that was going to be the death of her. She was always sure of herself. Always. She had always been competitive.

Her parents still teased about stuff she'd do when she was little, like crying when she'd land on someone else's property while playing Monopoly.

They didn't even pressure her into all of those academic successes, she just did it.

The competitive part of her - if not her only part - is also what brought her where she is, doing something that Merlin, probably, wouldn't really like. But just like there wasn't one bone in her body that wasn't competitive, there also wasn't one that wasn't a winner.

***

"Do we get to choose who's in our team?" She found herself whispering at Eggsy while the newbies conversed with one another. "If you have your eye on someone that you think would make it easier, then no." He answers nonchalantly.

"Damn it." She swears under her breath, disappointed. "But we could choose eachothers teams. Like I choose yours, you choose mine." He murmurs.

"Okay. Then I'm giving you Marie." She says checking the document in her hand to make sure she got the name right. "Why Marie?" Eggsy asks, genuinely curious. "I don't know she seems annoying, she'd talk your ear of and get you distracted."

"Oh. Well that's good, because I actually think she's quite-"

"Then no." She changes her mind and shakes her head, her eyes still at the trainees looking over the cabin like lost puppies.

The blonde smirks, he marks his coworker's initials next to 'Marie Brown' on his own document. "Marie?" He says looking at the group of people right in front of him, searching with his eyes for the short redhead. "Yes." She speaks up. "You're with Gawain." He states.

The girl sprinted towards the, not-so-thrilled, agent excitedly. She smiled with all her teeth and squealed, standing tall, next to her.

She threw a sarcastic, tight lipped smile smile her way, then turned to look at Eggsy, the grimace never leaving her face. He just tried to hide his giggles under his breath and smiled, looking only forward because he knew if he turned to look at the woman's expression, he'd break down in laughter.

Marie grasped her mentor's shoulder proudly and Y/N's eyes widened but Eggsy's ability to hold his laugh was only getting worse. She nudged his rib with her elbow and coughed. "Okay, Elliot, with Galahad." She marked the initials G.U. on her document and let a breathy laugh out.

His eyes widened and his eyebrows went up, he turned to look at her and Elliot walked over to him. "Hello, sir." He sniffed and put his hand out for Eggsy to shake. His voice was shaky. Eggsy looked at him, then back at his sweaty hand and shook it.

Elliot let go from Eggsy's hand and wipped his hands on his uniform, fixing it and clearing his throat, as he walks next to Eggsy.

"He does realize that we are almost the same age and I am not his teacher, right?" The agent turns to Y/N and she snorts shortly. "Dont be mean," she says quietly "that's my job." She continues.

"Well, this is going to be fun." Eggsy mumbles under his breath. Suddenly regretting ever planting the idea of a bet in the girl's head.

***

"Okay, so." She clapped once to get the attention of the newbies. "The next days are going to be full of missions and tests, but you have to keep two things in mind. Always listen to your mentor and of course always look at the bigger picture. You're going to be in danger, multiple times through out this training process. If you look too closely you don't think practical, you think hypothetical. And a Kingsman doesn't have time for hypothetical."

Eggsy found himself staring at the young agent while she spoke with such loyalty and dedication. There was always this on going banter between them, about who is better at this or that, little things. But it had been amusing for him how she took everything so seriously, like she just had to win. Even if that was just an unserious game of rock-paper-scissors. He couldn't help but wonder why she was so competitive, with everyone but especially him, at most times.

That being the only trait they had in common.

How competitive they both were.

In general they we really different, she was serious most of the time and she always went by the rules, more logical than emotional, she'd always follow a good piece of advice. Eggsy was a free-er soul, he is emotional, he gets attached really easily. A smart-ass if she's ever met one. And he had this weird hero complex she could never understand, this 'I'm saving the world.' kind of attitude. She wanted to wipe that smirk of his face, bring him down to earth, shout 'We're all saving the world here!' at him.

***

"Hello there." Agent Gawain told the newbies, wet like cats, seeming miserable.

"What the hell was that?!" Hayley whined, a trainee from Eggsy's team. "That was your first quest, and if it was hot in here you'd be thanking us now." He answered the blonde girl's question.

"What was surprising, something that has never happened before, was that all of you failed. We had to drain the water so you don't drown." Y/N told her trainees. They all looked at eachother awkwardly, ashamed, as the experienced agent put her hands over her chest disappointed.

"Are you kidding me? We almost died for your stupid training and we get scolded like we're little children? I am not dealing with this crap." She got her luggage from under her bed and pushed through Galahad and Gawain so she can leave. Eggsy grimaced, his nose scrunching and his eyes squeezing shut. "She left." He heard a familiar whisper from next to him. "I know." He said. "Okay. Hopefully by the next mission we won't have anyone storming off." He turned to the rest of the group.

***

It had now came down to the final choice. The two final trainees for the decision to be made were, ironically enough, Elliot and Marie.

The trainees were both at different rooms, one across from another. Agents Gawain and Galahad were both leaning on different walls, one across from another.

Both waiting nervously to hear the gunshot from their trainee's gun. The woman made a clicking noise with her tounge as the man constantly tapped his foot against the metal floor. "Nervous, Galahad?" The agent asks the blonde. "Never, Gawain." He answers.

Gunshots are heard from both rooms and the agents let out a breath they didn't know they had been holding, realisation came to them immediately and they locked in eachother's eyes. "Does this mean...?" Eggsy started. "I think so? It hasn't happened to me before." Y/N says confused and both Elliot and Marie come out of the rooms.

"I almost shot my Barney..." Marie says to her mentor with wide eyes, holding her dog close to her chest. "Yup I know, he's alright, Mar." Agent Gawain hugs her trainee, remembering how it felt to even think of shooting Stevie when she went through her own training.

"I- Me too." Elliot says, still shocked. She sees Eggsy over Marie's shoulder, as he sighs, grimacing yet again, questioning and giving two hesitant pats on Elliot's back she couldn't describe as confrontational. She laughs on Marie's shoulder and Eggsy rolls his eyes at her.

"Okay. I mean. Good news is...you're both Kingsmen now. And you have your dogs!"

Y/N says letting Marie go.

"Congratulations on your dedication."

Marie and Elliot start talking and Eggsy discreetly takes his coworker away.

"So it's tie?" He whispers.

"I guess so." She shrugs.

She looks back at Marie and Elliot. Elliot awkwardly laughs as he makes a depressing attempt to touch Marie's arm and she giggles putting some of her hair behind her ear.

"Well that's akward." She says and Eggsy follows her eyes and also looks at the, now, young Kingsmen.

"Let the kids be. They're living their love."

"You're making me have a mid-life crisis before my time, we're like two years older than them."

Eggsy sighs theatrically. "Yes, but they feel like my kids already. Look at them opening their wings."

Gawain rolls her eyes.

"Must be sad for you. Now you can't make a move on Marie." She says sarcastically.

"I just said that so you wouldn't put her on my team. Marie's not really my type."

"What's your type then?"

"I don't know. Witty, smart, boring agents that can't bare losing?"

"Sounds very specific for the sake of 'not knowing'."

"Familiar too doesn't it?" A proud smile plays around Eggsy's lips as he is staring at her.

"Yeah, it does. Thank god my type is annoying, funny, immature agents that I just can't get off my back." She grins.

"I'm pretty hard to get rid of. Would you break a rule, Gawain?"

"Only if I am to break it with such good company, Galahad."

I would love to read your thoughts, i hope you enjoyed the story. Have a gorgeous day. Mwah!

-Shad

[once-upon-an-imagine]

I need some angst please if it isn't a bother could you write it . I love your writing too , you gott nice work pieces!

James Potter x reader

Scars To Your Beautiful

OMG YES! I love writing for Jamie so much! and thank you so much for liking my writing, love!!!! here's a sneak peek at Jamie's story! hope you like it!

send me a WIP

[Black!Reader] You have always been considered the ‘least beautiful’ of the Black family. You’ve heard everyone call your cousins and even your brothers that. But not you. Until someone does.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Scars To Your Beautiful

And you don't have to change a thing The world could change its heart No scars to your beautiful We're stars and we're beautiful

The ‘other Black’. That's how you were known in Hogwarts. 

You knew your family wasn’t perfect. As much as they all like to make it seem that way, it was very much far from it. Being part of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black brought a lot of pressure with it, but you were used to it by now. And, deep down, you loved your family. At least your brothers and your cousins. Well, two of your cousins, you were always pretty terrified of Bellatrix after she enchanted all of hers and her sisters’ ancient creepy dolls to come alive and it still terrified you to your very core today. But you loved Andromeda and Narcissa, even if the latter was now spending all of her time with Lucius Malfoy and you saw less and less of her. 

“Hey, beautiful” you heard that very familiar voice standing next to you. 

“Potter” you smirked. 

“Going to the match today?” 

“The Slytherin-Gryffindor match?” you smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world” you told him. 

“Good, cause I need my good luck charm” he said as the two of you walked to the Great Hall. 

“Exactly, how does that work, Potter? Because I’m not really rooting for your team” you reminded him and he scoffed, pretending to be offended. 

“But of course you are, your brother plays on my team-”

“My other brother plays for my team” you interrupted. 

“Well, maybe not the team but… I’m sure you like the Gryffindor captain more than Slytherin’s” he smiled sweetly at you. 

“Well, you got me there, Potter” you admitted. 

“Promise you’ll come to the party when we win?” he asked as you entered the Great Hall and you knew you would separate. 

“That’s a lot of talk, Potter” you smirked but he offered his pinky to you. You rolled your eyes but you took it. “Never speak of this” you told him.

“See you there, beautiful” he said before he saw you walk to your table.

To Be Continued

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

A/N: sorry it's short, I don't have much of this one, but I do have like chunks here and there xD

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: double chapters when I know I shouldn't.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“We got a suite available, Amalia?” The man, the owner of this casino, Bucky, asks as he approaches the glass counter of the hotel lobby. You barely keep up as your surroundings smear and your head spins. Everything’s happening so fast. 

“Mr. Barnes,” the woman on the other side greets as she nears the slim monitor, “I think we should.” She glances at him, then your sister as she blathers drunkenly in his arms, “having a good night?” 

“Oh, just some friends in the city for a night,” he lies easily, “she got a bit carried away so we’ll let her sleep it off.” 

You chew your lip as you stand just behind him. Your stomach lurches as your eyes wander around the fine decor. It’s all out of your price range. Again, your brain is a beat behind.  

“Doll, would you get that?” He asks as the desk agent holds out a small folder. 

“Oh, yeah, er,” you rush up to take the room keys, “sorry.” 

“No problem, just got my hands full,” he scoffs, “Amalia, have a good night. Hopefully you don’t get anyone too rowdy.” 

“Thank you, sir, you too,” she preens after him as he heads off across the lobby. 

Once more you’re on his heels as he struts toward the elevators. You catch up to him and force the frog from your throat, “uh, sir, Bucky?” You stammer, “I don’t think... I can afford--” 

“Doll, don’t worry about all that. It's on the house,” he stops before the elevator and stares at the golden doors, “I’m not some sort of grifter. I offered, I’m not gonna squeeze ya. What’s the room number?” 

“Er, oh,” you open the little folder, “720.” 

“Right, hit the button,” he nods before him. 

“Sorry,” you cringe again. You’re so behind. It must be so obvious to him how lost you are. Maybe that’s why he noticed you. He feels bad that someone so pathetic could exist. 

You press the up button and the doors open. He nods you ahead of him and you step into the box. The walls are transparent and you can see outside along the river. He gets in and comes to stand parallel with you as you avoid looking through the glass. 

“Seven,” he says. 

You make another mousy noise and tap the button. You recoil, clutching your hands over your chest, and stare at the doors. As the elevator rises, you feel a wave of head rush, and you sway just a little. You gulp and widen your eyes. 

“Not a fan of heights?” He asks as the box stops sharply and the doors ding and open. 

“Not really,” you mutter. 

He waits for you to exit first and you eagerly do. He follows as you look back and forth between the doors, searching out the number to match the folder. 720, right at the end. You fumble and it takes three tries to swipe the card correctly.  

Finally, the door opens and you push it inward, holding it as you flatten yourself to the wall to let him through. He enters without hesitation. For a moment, you wonder what it must be like to be so sure and so comfortable in a place like this. To have this be your normal.

You let go of the door and trail him further inside. The room is huge. Not just one room, but two. The front room is closed off by a pair of doors, painted white with fine spirals etched into the wood. You flit ahead of Bucky to slide them open and reveal the bedroom. He takes your sister to the bed and lays her down as she lets out a bubbly belch. 

“Sorry,” you apologise on her behalf as you hover in the door. 

“She’s her own person,” he stands back, “you need anything, call down to the desk. They’ll be happy to get you whatever. Oh, and, should probably have some water ready for the morning. She’s gonna be feeling this.” 

“Right,” you push your lip out then quickly fix your face, “thank you. I...” 

“Checkouts at eleven but I’ll tell Amalia to mark you down for a late departure,” he comes towards you slowly. 

“Oh, we won’t stay that long,” you assure him and scrape your palms together. 

“Ah, you got somewhere to be? Work? Gonna be a long day after tonight.” 

“No, I... I don’t...” your eyes drift to the wall. Again, you can’t help but admire the ivory paint and the crystal lamp and tall posts of the bed. “I don’t... have a job.” 

“Mm, tough out there,” he says, “just gotta find the right thing, huh?” 

You want to fold into nothing. This man, a millionaire at least, who owns this whole place, is telling you you’ll find something one day. Just like your mom does when you melt down over another rejection. Ugh. 

“Thanks, yeah,” you take a heavy breath. 

“You’re tired,” he surprises you as he caresses your sleeve, “I’m not gonna keep you up. You get some sleep, alright?” 

You nod and reach to scratch your neck, shifting away from his reach. He’s so much bigger than you that for a moment your stomach is crawling, as the thought occurs of how much control he really has. Not just because of who he is. 

“Good night, doll,” he purrs and brushes by you. 

You stay as you are, staring at your sister, muttering to herself. Why does she have to do this? You could be sleeping in your own bed but instead you’re here, burning in shame and pity. You turn as you hear him near the door. 

“Night,” you offer up. 

He stops and turns back, sending you a wink, “there’s a hot tub in here so... might enjoy the room at least.” 

You force a smile though your stress likely makes it more a grimace. He spins and leaves you, the door shutting with a click and releasing you to your self-reproach. You drop your head in your hands and huff. You are leaving the minute your sister wakes up. You never want to see that man again. You just pray he forgets you just as quickly as you want to forget this whole night. 

🃏

You hardly sleep. Your sister’s drunken snoring keeps you from relaxing for more than twenty minutes at a time, not to mention how unsettled you are. You hate sleeping in new places but moreso you hate that even on a night out, after all the assurance that you could just enjoy yourself, that you are once more a burden for someone else. 

You get up just after six. You rub your forehead as you go out into the front room and look over the amenities. There’s a fancy coffee maker with pods and a mini fridge with a glass door. You take out a bottle of water to leave by the bed for Roxie then return to figure out the coffee. You don’t often have any but your head is pounding. 

You sit down and sneer at the bitterness. Did you make it right? You never liked the taste so you can’t tell. You finish the cup if only for the soothing warmth. 

At seven, you get up to check on Roxie again. She’s still out like a light. Come on! You want to go. 

You rinse the mug in the sink as best you can and return it to the shelf. There’s a knock on the door. You flinch and reluctantly tread down to the hall. You peep through the hole as you fix your clothing. You push down the handle slowly to greet the woman with the cart. 

The golden embroidery on her white blouse marks her as an employee and she beams a smile in your direction. It’s too early for that amount of cheer. She has her hands on the cart, angling it towards the door. 

“Morning, miss, breakfast, complements of Mr. Barnes,” she declares, “where can I put it?” 

“Um,” you back up slowly, “inside... uh, by the table, I guess.” 

She rolls the cart in and asks if you need anything else before she leaves. You shake your head. There’s more than enough there for you and Roxie. If she can even stomach any of it. You’ve seen the way she is after her nights out. 

You sit and stare at the buffet of food before you. Fresh fruit, waffles, pancakes, french toast, bacon, eggs... everything and more. Just another favour to feel bad for. 

As you look over it all, you notice a note, nestled between the glasses beside the pitcher of orange juice. You take it. That must be the bill. You unfold it and read the slanted capitals hand-written across the casino-branded page. 

‘Good Morning, Doll,  

Enjoy breakfast on me. 

B. Barnes’ 

Under his name, is a sharp zigzag of the same black ink, a post script below. 

‘PS. If you’re still looking for a job, call me.’ 

You nearly drop the paper. What? You stare at the digits of his phone number and slowly lower your hand to your lap. This can’t be real. Could you really work at a casino? Would you be a dealer? Or maybe you’d be more suited to a cleaner, somewhere you can be out of the way. 

A long groan interrupts your inner turmoil. You fold the paper and tuck it away. It’s something. You’ll have to just figure out later what. 

“Coffee,” Roxie grumbles as she appears in the doorframe, gripping her skull. 

“Oh, uh, sure,” you get up and go to the machine. You grab a random pod and shove it into the top. 

“Where... how’d we get here?” She sits heavily and reaches for a piece of bacon. 

“Um, you... you were really drunk so...” 

“How the hell did you get us a room? Wait. Did we win? Blackjack?” She bites into the greasy strip and moans. “Or... I didn’t sleep with that guy, did I?” 

“Erm,” you frown, thinking for a moment before you realise she must mean that Sam guy. “No...” 

You don’t explain. You don’t know how. Oh yeah, you were such a disaster that the owner noticed and didn’t kick us out. Actually, he let us stay in an overpriced suite because... you don’t know. 

“He must be loaded if he’s handing out hotel rooms,” she scoffs as she continues on in her assumption. You don’t correct her. It doesn’t matter. “Coffee,” she snaps her fingers as the grind quiets. 

You bring her the mug and she adds too many packets of sugar before she tastes it. You hide the paper in your cardigan pocket and search for your purse. You fish your watch out of it and put it around your wrist checking the time. 

“We should head out before nine,” you say. 

“Why?” She scoffs. “Ugh, what’s the bath like in this place? I could use a soak.” 

“Mom’s going to be worried.” 

“Nah, she knows I’ll get you back,” she waves you off and stands.  

She walks slowly, rubbing her temples as she sips from the cup, and examines the hotel room. She dips into the bathroom and the light flicks on. You hear her turning the faucet and shifting things around.  

You play with the zipper of your purse. You reach inside and pull out your phone. You get up to grab the key folder and enter the wifi code into your outdated model. It takes far too long to connect. You type into the search of your browser, ‘Bucky Barnes’. 

Almost at once, an image of the very man who carried Roxie into this room appears. It’s familiar. You tap it and it opens up a local news story. That makes sense. He’s younger, his hair is shorter. You remember when the casino changed hands and was renovated all those years ago. It was big news. 

Hm. Not just rich, famous, at least to a degree. It means he has a lot more going on than two disorderly girls at his casino. He’ll forget. You just hope you can too. 

Roxie comes back in a robe and put her mug on the table, “make me another. I’m gonna try those jets.” 

She spins away and you stare at her empty cup. How can she not care about anything? Does she not realise that she ruined the night? That she made a fool of both of you? No, she just sees shiny things and forgets all about her own behaviour. 

Well, you’re not like her. You don’t like being a burden or asking for things or living on someone else’s affection. You look down and feel along your pocket, the slip of paper firm through the fabric. You could clean a few hotel toilets for a buck. It’s not like you have much else going on. 

[cosmicstarlatte]

Customer Service (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

They try contacting customer service. 🤷‍♂️

»Characters: Demon Bros

»Tags: Certified Shitpost™️, Pathetic Lucifer is my favorite Lucifer

»Notes: It's been a while since I've done a shitpost bulleted fic so ♡reblogs♡ are appreciated. I've had this wip since March apparently? 💀

Lucifer:

A hand on his hip and the phone in the other

This man means business

"Don't talk to me, I'm trying to keep my level of anger"

Held onto his anger for two hours waiting for the next agent

The annoying hold music only fueled him

Tried to be reasonable with the agent when he got patched through

But they were new

"Look, just get me your manager."

Waited another half hour for them

The problem got fixed rather quickly actually

smirked in satisfaction...Lucifer always wins.

If only he noticed the two stuck pages in the manual, he would've not wasted his morning

Mammon:

If he wasn't broke he would've paid someone else to make the call

Waited for an hour but it felt like eternity

"Yeah ain't there a satisfaction guarantee on this anyway!? The customers always right!"

Tried to get a replacement for his earbuds

And a refund while he was at it

Scammy? What?? Nooo....

"They fell in the wash! It's not my fault! Did I get insurance? Who has the money for that?"

Him and the agent went back and forth for a while

The agent finally caved and promised to replace the earbuds

"Finally! Ya better send 'em quick! -click-"

...

He realized he never gave the agent his address & had to start the process all over again

Levi:

Lol

Tried online chat but his specific issue needed a real agent because...of course it would

Tried to pay one of his brothers to make the call for him

They rather stab themselves or wage war against Diavolo than call customer service

Took anxiety medication before trying to call

Waited three hours on hold but played something soothing in the meantime

helloooo ruri and friends crossing

He stopped when he heard the hold music stop

"Hello thank you for calling Akuz-"

click

"It's not that important."

Satan:

This is how a pro does it.jpg

Drank his little coffee and ate his fresh little pastry

See, he set an alarm to call customer service right when they open their lines

Had the number typed and ready to go with a press

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP

Finally!

-dialing tone-

"Hello. Your wait time is 2 hours and-"

...

...

...

Slammed his phone on the floor and it broke

Went to go fight the company in person

His issue got fixed

The company had to tighten their security after this incident

Asmo:

Is that one lucky demon that happens to get patched through quickly

He was having problems with his devilgram account verification

Just as he started speaking about his issue the agent freaked out

Turns out they were a huge fan and could automatically tell it was the REAL™️ Asmo speaking

The issue got fixed and Asmo stayed talking with the agent because they sounded really cute

One thing led to another and...it went from a customer service hotline to a phone sex one real quick

This always happens when he calls customer service akskjfksls

Beel:

Collected all the snacks he had

Even cooked an entire feast

He needed everything he could get before making the dreaded call

After an hour of waiting (and barely any snacks left) he finally got to an agent!

It was a pleasant experience for both sides

Beel is getting sent replacements for his shoes plus a discount voucher for his next purchase

güd boi™️ as usual

Belphie:

Almost fell asleep while waiting

The music soothed him, they had classical music playing

He's not really sure how long he waited if he's being honest

When he finally got to the agent he sounded so weak the agent was concerned

"Mm? No I'm always like ...losing... consciousness ...it's normal...zzz..."

The agent was still so concerned they sent someone to the HOL to check on him

Beel ended up making the call for him

⬦You might also like: Coconut︱Devil-Mart⭐︱Waffle House

[pappydaddy]

how you get the girl (j.m.)

a/n: i got a little carried away with this one lovelies! but i hope you enjoy it💛!

tv show/movie: outer banks

pairing: jj maybank x fem!kook!reader

not requested

style | i wish you would | how you get the girl - you're here

synopsis: after an increase in reckless behaviour, jj's friends confront him, giving him an ultimatum. jj enlists the help of sarah and kie on how to win y/n back.

taglist: @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @popeheywardssecretgf | @lexi-2004 | @i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo | @luvhanns | @thelakespoets | @lonely-simplicity | @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover | @smarie7543

*line through your user means i could not tag you lovely!

au where there was no treasure but sarah and kie mended their friendship and brought everyone together

warnings: angst, heartbreak, mentions of an unsafe party, drinking, drug use, voyeurism/exhibitionism, mentions of witnessing public sex, inappropriate relationships mentioned, john mayer referenced, being hit on during a vulnerable state, older women (40) hitting on drunk jj, spicy content (not smut).

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

-not my gif - my header-

“Six months. It has been six months of this and I am tired,” Pope exclaimed as they all gathered in the Twinkie. “We are basically acting as his parents and I can barely take care of myself!” He continued as John B drove down the road. 2 AM, just like clockwork. 

  “Tell me about it. I think I’m getting grey hairs. I need to go to the hairdressers sometime,” Sarah muttered, picking up her blonde hair, intersecting it before flipping down the visor, looking at the roots. “Seriously, we need to do something about this. I cannot be going grey at eighteen, John B.” She looked to her boyfriend, flicking the visor back up. 

  “Look, I don’t know what you guys want me to do. JJ’s gone off the deep end, there is no talking to him when he is like this. The harder we push, the further he pulls away from us,” John B sighed. “Look, the best thing for him is for us to give him space, he will come around when he’s ready. If we push him too hard, he won’t have us to protect him anymore.” 

  Kie hummed, agreeing with him, but Pope and Sarah shared a look. “Well, he’s off the deep end about his break-up with Y/N so, why don’t we use that to reel him back in? At least stop making us go get him at 2 AM.” Pope suggested, looking between Sarah and Kie, trying to gauge if it was a good idea. 

  “How did you know about JJ and Y/N?” Kie asked, sitting up straight, fearful. Pope blinked at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

  “It was obvious-” 

  “Painfully,” John B chipped in, turning into a random driveway. “This is the address he texted. Let’s go find him. And I’m not hating the idea Pope had about using Y/N.” He remarked, eyebrows raised suggestively. 

  They all climbed out of the van, approaching the house with the obvious party going on. It was as if they wanted the cops to bust it. The stench of weed and alcohol. It was enough to make anyone who wasn’t drunk or high run away from it. And if that was obvious, there was sure to be an abundance of drugs being used. It would probably be a drug dog’s worst nightmare. “I do like it, but how would we use her? It’s not like she’ll be up to talking to him. The ball is in his court. It is up to him to tell her how he feels.” Kie stressed, earning a hum of agreement from Sarah. 

  “Yeah, she laid down the conditions, he was the one who refused to answer. She should not be responsible for his actions and she should not be responsible for making this right. Besides, she’s really torn up about this.” Sarah explained further as they opened the door, the noise hitting them like a brick wall. 

  “We give him an ultimatum. He either stops this behaviour or next time we’re calling Y/N and telling her about everything he’s doing. We no longer protect him from her finding out all of this,” Pope gestured around to the party full of people tripping on some sort of drug or so horribly drunk he is amazed they are still alive. “Is happening. I mean like, there are at least two couples having sex right there.” 

  “Oh my god, there is,” Sarah gasped. “John B, all of these people are way older. Like John Mayer old and creepy. This is so much worse than the other parties he’s been to.” She pointed out. 

  “Yeah, I’m catching the drift that this might be a tipping point for JJ’s behaviour. This is not safe for any of us to be here.” John B noted as they moved around the house some more, the thumping music and random yelling overwhelming them. 

  From between the noise, they could hear a familiar voice. “You know, I would love to do that with you, but I have someone already.” JJ. He sat on the floor, back pressed against the wall as an older woman dragged her hand up and down his leg, lips pressing kisses all over his face. 

  “JJ, man,” John B quickly rushed over to him, swatting the completely drunk woman away from his best friend. “Get away, you’re old enough to be our mother.” He shooed her off. With a huff, she stumbled off, her heels scuffing against the hardwood. 

  “John B! My man! My buddy, have you seen this party? It’s full of cougars! I’ve been hit on so much, it’s insane.” He was beyond drunk, his speech slurred and his eyes half-lidded. 

  “Yeah, we saw that Buddy, but you don’t want these people to hit on you, they’re too old and don’t have good intentions.” John B coached him. A sober JJ knows this. He might get an ego boost, but he knew not to accept any advances. Drunk JJ, John B wasn’t too sure. 

  John B wrapped JJ’s arm around his shoulder, Pope taking the other one and doing the same. Together, they hoisted JJ up to stand. “But, I couldn’t accept any of them because all I can think about is Y/N. She’s ruined sex for me.” He slumped, not being able to keep his body weight up. John B and Pope stumbled, but kept themselves standing. 

  “Why are you even at this party, JJ? How did you get yourself into this situation, Dude?” Pope asked, looking around. He wasn’t even sure how JJ knew this was happening. It’s not like he runs in any social circles with forty-year-old women who think sleeping with a barely legal teenager is okay. 

  “I heard about this from my cousin. He was supplying some of the weed,” JJ slurred, his eyes closing as his feet dragging as they neared the door. “Last party I was at, I saw Y/N. She was with Topper. Not only did she ruin sex for me, how can I go to another party where she might show up looking so amazing with Topper on her arm,” He rambled, opening his eyes as he felt the cold night air hitting him. “So, I thought that Y/N would never come to a party like this and if she did, I would drag her back out of the party because it would be so unsafe for her to be in there. She would get John Mayered! So, I went to the party.” 

  “You went to the party you deemed unsafe?” 

  “Well, yeah. What if she did come to this party? Who was going to protect her? Topper? Yeah right. He would be too busy snorting cocaine up his nose to realise she was in trouble.” He reasoned as they unceremoniously shoved him into the back of the Twinkie. 

  Turning to the group, John B said sternly. “We’re talking to JJ tomorrow about the ultimatum.” 

____   

  “JJ, we need to talk.” JJ looked up from John B’s coffee table where he was carefully rolling a blunt - his second one since noon. The voice came from John B himself, Kie, Pope, and even Sarah in tow. They had been out together all day, since even before JJ got up.  

  “Okay, then talk away dude, I’m not bothering you.” He shrugged, packing the loose weed in the paper carefully, eyes trained on it. His friends all settled into spots, Pope and John B sitting on either side of him. It raised a red flag within JJ’s mind, but he didn’t care too much about it - he knew they would never hurt him.  

  “Talk with you, Buddy.” John B clarified, gently reaching in front of JJ when he stilled for a second. Pope did the same, grabbing the baggie of weed and handing it to Kiara who quickly moved it away from the living area. John B gently pulled the blunt in progress away from JJ, both to avoid a fight and to make sure none of the weed spilled onto his floor (it’s like catnip of JJ). 

  “Don’t see what we need to talk about, but okay,” JJ shrugged, seeming to be playing obliviously. He knew what they were wanting to talk about. He’ll just pretend he doesn’t. “Talk away, my friend.” He leaned back on the couch as the four of them shared nervous glances. 

  “Well, okay,” John B cleared his throat, looking at his friends in a silent way that said he would start the conversation. “We wanted to talk to you about your behaviour lately. You’ve resorted back to reckless JJ. It was first getting into week long fits of rage-” 

  “Particularly when you see Topper-” Pope added in.

  “Especially when you see Topper and Y/N together,” Kie piped up, sitting on the now clear coffee table across from JJ, Sarah sitting beside her. They were ready to jump up at any time, knowing JJ doesn’t like to feel cornered. “Then you get all mopey when you see Y/N and then all of a sudden, you’re angry again.” Kie explained as gently as she could. 

  “Now, it's the endless partying, but last night with that dangerous party you went to, it’s too much. It’s much worse than what you’ve done in the past. You surpassed your own level of recklessness last night.” John B told him. 

  “So? I won’t go to any more of those parties. I realise now that it was dangerous. Happy?” JJ asked, moving to stand up but John B and Pope simply put their hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down.   

  “It’s been going on for six months, JJ. Which also is about the time you and Y/N stopped talking suddenly. After that phone call you had that night.” Sarah observed. 

  JJ shifted, elbows resting on his knees as he shrugged. “I don’t see it. And I don’t know why you guys are bringing Y/N into this. She has nothing to do with anything, she’s innocent in this.” He denied, blue eyes avoiding everyone.

  “She told us about you a couple of weeks ago, Sarah and I,” Kie informed him, his blue eyes widening, snapping up to look into Kie’s calming brown ones, trying to see if she was bluffing or not. Didn’t matter if she was or not now, she for sure knew from his reaction. “We already knew about you two, but she told us what happened.”

  “We haven’t told her about your behaviour. We figured you wouldn’t want her knowing about some of the things you’ve done.” John B informed him.

  “We have been working double time trying to keep her from getting any information. Your drunken adventures, the attempted hook-ups, the drug use, last night’s party. We have made sure none of it has reached her,” Pope explained. JJ’s blue eyes shifted from each person, a sense of gratitude within them. “But, we have reached the breaking point with your behaviour, especially after last night, JJ.” 

  “So, we’ve decided to give you an ultimatum. You work with us to figure out how to help you fix this or the next time you call us after doing something stupid. We call Y/N and tell her everything.” John B ripped the metaphorical band-aid off. And surprisingly, JJ didn’t flip the table or his lid. 

  They all watched him as he let the words sink in. They could see his blue eyes moving from side to side as if the answer was written on the floor. “I want to get her back. But she’s with Topper now-”

  “You think she’s with Topper? She hates Topper- well, hated Topper,” Sarah spoke up. “Her and Topper were set up on a date by their parents. She called him out on his shit and they became friends. He’s basically just standing in for us while we’re here babysitting you. Once you’re back in her life, I am sure both of them will be more than happy to go their separate ways.” 

  “Okay, that takes care of that, but I don’t even know the first step to getting her back. She is the first girl I actually like, let alone love and this is all uncharted territory for me.” 

  “That’s where we come in.” Kie smiled, pointing between her and Sarah. JJ slid back in his seat, a bit unnerved with their smiles and the gleams in their eyes. 

  “They are going to use this opportunity to enact their revenge, aren’t they?” JJ questioned.

  “Possibly.” Pope agreed. He hoped they did.  

____ 

  Gruelling.That was the word JJ would use Sarah and Kie’s seven day program designed to help JJ get Y/N’s back. They sugar coated it, of course, saying that it was all necessary, but he hardly thought it was necessary for him to run all around The Cut getting them things while they sat at John B’s. They wouldn’t even let him use his bike. “If I get a cold, I am coming for your heads.” JJ painted. It was fifty degrees go and they had him outside running since the early hours of the morning. 

  Sarah and Kie shared a look as they dug through the bag JJ just brought them. “Oh, I didn’t realise you didn’t want our help to get Y/N back,” Kie hummed, pulling all the candy out of the bag. “Well, Sarah, I guess we can just leave since JJ doesn’t-” 

  “No, wait,” JJ exclaimed, hands shooting out in front of him in case they tried to leave. “I need your help, I do. But I don’t see why I need to be out running in fifty degree weather. Getting a cold isn’t going to help get Y/N back.” 

  Kie rolled her eyes at his overdramatics. “You’re not going to catch a cold-”

  “Wait, he might have a point,” Sarah remarked, hands stilling as she shifted through the snacks herself. Kie threw her a questioning look. “Risking a cold,” Sarah spoke again as if that was to make it all make sense. “He’s risking his health to show her how much he loves her! It’s the ultimate romantic gesture!” 

  JJ slumped down in one of the free chairs littering the living room. He really thought Sarah was going to stop this madness. “Should we still do flowers and candy then? Or should he just show up at her doorstep in the middle of the storm we’re getting tomorrow night?” JJ’s mouth fell open to protest, but Kie and Sarah already launched into re-evaluating the plan. 

  “I’m definitely getting sick after this.” He groaned, hand falling over his eyes as his skin felt like a million needles were sticking into it - his skin unthawing from being out in the cold all day. 

  “Oh, hush. This means you don’t have to run anywhere anymore,” Sarah scolded him. JJ let his hand drop, somewhat relieved. “By the way, do you even understand what happened between you two?”

  JJ looked at her, eyes wide as he questioned her sanity. “You mean the thing you explain to me everyday even though I showed a full understanding of how I screwed everything up from the start of these past seven days,” Sarah and Kie nodded. “Oh, well than yes, but I am sure you’ll torture me by revisiting it.”

  “Maybe you should have thought about this before you broke Y/N’s heart.”  

____

  “Wow, they were not kidding when they said it would be a storm.” Y/N muttered to herself as she pulled the curtains covering her bedroom window back, looking at the downpour. She could see it in the yellow gleam from the streetlight, if she didn’t know better, she would assume they were having a hurricane in February. She never understood the expression raining cats and dogs until now. In an odd way, it was beautiful. Especially when she closed her eyes and listened to it hitting her house. She could be lulled asleep standing right there if she allowed herself. 

  Stepping away from the window, the curtain danced back into place. She never used to have curtains, but following the imposition of her relationship with JJ, every time she saw headlights shine through her window, she thought of him. In an effort to squash any hint of regret, she begged her parents to buy her curtains - which they did with little to no fight. Since then, they remained closed, plunging her in darkness that she found suited her recent mood for the past six months. 

  With a sigh, she picked up the pizza take-out menu she had found. It was her and JJ’s favourite place to order pizza from. Topper had innocently fetched it for her in case she lost power and couldn’t look up websites to order pizza from. He claimed that she should save her phone data for texting and emergencies. She thought he was insane. 

  “I could go for a pizza,” She hummed, opening the menu as if she didn’t know what she already wanted. Picking up her phone, she dialled the number she knew by heart. After a few rings, the girl’s voice spoke through the speaker, obviously chewing gum in the obnoxious way. “Hi, I would like to place an order for delivery. My info should be in the system already, it’s under L/N. I just want what I usually get.” 

  She pinched the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she stood up, gathering some blankets that were carelessly thrown on her floor. “Large pizza with extra sauce and extra cheese with pepperoni?” The girl questioned after a few seconds of typing and clicking. 

  “That’s the one. Could I also get two orders of breadsticks with that?” She paused the gathering of blankets, blinking as she listened to the typing on the other side of the phone. 

  “Okay, anything else tonight?” 

  “No, that will be all. Thank you.” 

  “Should be delivered in about twenty minutes. Any later than thirty and the order is free.” She drawled before hanging up the phone. Y/N smiled, looking forward to the greasy food as she slipped her phone into the pocket of her (JJ’s) hoodie. Shifting the mass of blankets, she started to make her way down the stairs to set up in the living room. Her parents were away in Cuba, celebrating their wedding anniversary meaning Y/N was alone in the house. Humming, she set the blankets down on the couch, hands hitting her legging covered thighs as she looked around, seeing if anything else needed to be changed. 

  The sudden sound of a rough knock startled her. Her gate was closed and nearly impossible to scale so it had to be someone she trusted enough to give the gate code to. This eased her nerves slightly, actually making her feet move towards the door. “Oh my god, what if it’s the cops. Did I do anything wrong? Did they get evidence that I was drinking at that party Topper dragged me to like a week ago,” She whispered to herself, her mind spiralling. “I can’t go to jail. They’ll take one look at me and know I cannot offer anything but tutoring sessions which are useless in prison.” She panicked, but another knock pulled her from her mind. 

  Grabbing the door handle and yanking it open, she didn’t give herself anymore time to think. “JJ? Are you insane? You’re shaking like a ghost!” She exclaimed, worry taking over so much she couldn’t even think about questioning why he was here after six months. He stood there, his figure vibrating from the freezing rain. She wanted to take him and pull him into he warm house, but something stopped her.  

  “It’s been a long six months, Y/N,” JJ started, making her furrow her brows in confusion. She was well aware of how long the six months have been. She’s still moping around. “I was too afraid to tell you what I wanted that night and for every night for five months.” He confessed, his face red but she wasn’t sure if it was the bitter cold, him catching something, or him blushing. His blue eyes stayed on her despite his teeth chattering. 

  “So what changed, JJ. Why are you here right now,” She paused, gesturing to him. “You’re going to catch a cold.” She sighed, her still burning love for him outweighing her judgement as she grabbed his arm, pulling him into the house. 

  “In the last month, specifically the last week and some days, I wasn’t afraid to admit it anymore. I want you, Y/N,” JJ was still chattering as she wordlessly led him to the couch, wrapping a blanket around him. “And not in a secret hook-up situation. Like I actually want you for worse or for better. To be in an actual relationship with you and I will wait forever and ever until you can trust me again because I broke your heart and I knew that from the second you hung up the phone, but I was too hurt to do anything about it.” 

  He panted slightly, still shivering like a chihuahua. Y/N sighed, grabbing his freezing hand and pulling him up the stairs. He let out a low, unsure noise as she did so. “Look, I am still hurt and heartbroken, but I am willing to listen to you because that’s what you do when you are mature and ready for a relationship,” She informed him as she pulled him into her room. “I still have some of your clothes so sit on the bed while I get them.” She instructed, pulling open a drawer in her dresser. 

  “I just want you to know that if you give me another chance, I will do my best to fix your heart, to put it back together,” JJ spoke up after a few beats of silence. He could tell she was still listening as she rooted through the drawers. He looked at the dresser, seeing many photos in frames that were all too familiar. “You kept them up.” He whispered. 

  She stood up, looking back at him in confusion before following his eyes, spotting the pictures. “Oh, yeah,” She hummed, looking back down in her drawer. “I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them. They reminded me of the good times. Reminded me of how it used to be between us before I pushed you too hard.” She muttered, throwing a shirt and a pair of sweatpants at him.

  He put them on the bed beside him, standing up, his eyes locked on her as she wrapped her arms around herself, nearly curling into herself in a way to protect her heart (surely). The blanket fell from his shoulders as he strides towards her. Her bedside lamp was on, casting a dim light around the room, making her look magnificent, but he wasn’t too focused on her looks - she always looked magnificent to him. 

  “I lost my mind, Y/N-” He spoke, startling her as she thought he was changing. Whirling around, she was once again startled by how close he was to her. Surely, she would have heard him moving. It’s not like he was a light guy. With all his muscle tone and his usual work boots on his feet. 

  “What do you mean?” She asked, eyes searching his face in confusion, noting how he looked in the dim lighting himself.

  “I lost my mind. When I refused to label it. I knew I didn’t want to lose you, but yet I did because I was stupid and I lost my mind. Then, I actually did lose my mind and I didn’t find it until a week ago,” His voice was scratchy from the raw emotion as she looked down at her. “I left you because I was scared and I don’t have an actual reason for being scared, but I lost my mind. You didn’t push me too hard. This was all my fault.” 

  “JJ, it’s both of our faults. I shouldn’t have sprung that conversation on you. I should have approached it another way-” He cut her off with a shake of his head.

 “No, you aren’t getting it. It is my fault. I love you and I was too chicken to say it while you were so ready and I couldn’t see it,” He let his hands grab her biceps in the most gentle way possible. Despite the fact that his skin was freezing, Y/N found warmth filling her from the contact. “I was a mess for the past six months. Like a literal mess. I was drinking, going to dangerous parties, and putting myself in dangerous situations because without you, I am nothing, Y/N. I have nothing without you-”

  “That is not true-” She tried to protest but he cut her off again. 

  “But it is true. I couldn’t even perform after you-” 

  “Oh,” She looked shocked at this, eyes drifting down to his lap before looking back up at him. “Really? You couldn’t,” She glanced down again before looking back into his eyes. “Because I left you?” 

  JJ nodded. “I mean, I got it up, but only when I was picturing you. But it was in the dead of night. But it was like that when we were dating,” He used that word for lack of a better term. “It was always you. From the very second Sarah introduced us all till this moment.” 

  The doorbell sound of the buzzer on the gate went before a voice echoed through the house, someone speaking into the microphone. “That’s my pizza,” She told him, voice soft as if not to break the delicate energy in the room. “I should go pay-”

  “Let me, I’m already soaked. I don’t want you to get a cold.” He patted her arms before taking out his wallet and making his way down the stairs. She followed him, her heart suddenly light for the first time in six months. Sure, his words were slowly mending her heavy heart, but this act of kindness, for whatever reason, just fixed one of the biggest cracks. 

  She stepped outside on the covered porch, wrapping her arms around herself to fend off the bitter wind, as she watched him run down the paved driveway the best he could without slipping. Even in the dark, blinded by the gleam of the delivery car’s headlights, she saw him paying for her pizza and breadstick with his own, hard earned money including a tip (but it was a minute over thirty minutes so he pocketed everything except the tip again). JJ didn’t seem to notice her standing out in the cold and she didn’t realise she had walked off the porch into the pouring rain until JJ spoke up. “I thought I told you I was getting it. Now look at you, you’re completely drenched and-”

  “Kiss me.” She spoke in such a sure tone with such authority in her voice it shocked JJ. Not just because she, the girl who he thought I would have to beg to take him back, was telling him to kiss her, but the way she said it. 

  “What?” He asked, breathless. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. 

  “Kiss me.” She repeated, stepping closer to him. Her clothes were soaked and sticking to her uncomfortably. Her hair was sticking to her face. But none of that was noticed by her nor him. She shook from the cold, but so was JJ so he couldn’t scold her for being out here. 

 “Y/N, are you sure-” JJ started but she cut him off as she took another step closer to him. The two pizza boxes were soggy and nearly hitting her from how close she was but JJ was too stunned to move them. Instead, he was staring into her eyes, searching for any sign of unease.   

  “I am completely and irrevocably sure, JJ,” She whispered, the sound would have been drowned out by the sound of rain hitting the pavement around them if they were not so close together and JJ wasn’t hanging off of every word she was saying. “Kiss me.” She urged, a small smile playing on her lips. 

  “But,” He looked at the pizza boxes in his hands. “The pizza-” She simply shoved the boxes out of his hand, sending the already ruined food and boxes to the ground. Pizza slices and bread sticks flew into the grass of the yard, the cardboard of the boxes breaking and ripping upon impact. 

  “It was free anyway. Kiss me.” This time, he listened. His hands slid along her jaw, angling her face up towards him as he stepped the rest of the way, his lips pressing against hers in such vigour it nearly knocked the two of them over. Eyes instantly closing, awareness slipping from their minds. Her hands instantly gripped his side, fisting the material of his jacket. His lips tasted the same, but this time she noticed a hint of unflavoured chapstick. Kie and Sarah were the masterminds behind this, Kie only ever had unflavoured chapstick. 

  Quickly, any form of thought was stripped from her mind as the kiss deepened. Both of their lips were desperate for one another. Their bodies pressed against each other as they stood there. Rain falling down on top of them, cold droplets hitting their faces, making their muscles jolt, but the kiss never broke. 

  “I had a whole speech planned-” JJ muttered against her lips, eyes opening, pulling back slightly, but she wasn’t having that. Her lips instantly fitted against his before he could say anything else, making him hum against her, his eyes closing again.  

  She could feel him pulling away to speak again, her eyes remaining shut as she spoke. “Shut up and take me inside, Maybank. You’ve said enough. Now show me.” She ordered, re-attaching their lips. 

  “Message received.” He mumbled, hands leaving her jaw as hers let go of his side. Just feeling his fingers dance over the tops of her thighs, she jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist as if no time had passed. His hands stationed on her butt, he blindly carried her into the house, mouths attached, tongues exploring the all too familiar areas of each other’s mouths, and eyes closed. 

____

  Y/N groaned, pulling her lips away from JJ’s as his phone rang for what felt like the hundredth time within the hour. “JJ, could you just answer it or put it on silent?” She asked, nails dragging up and down his bare back. She was under him, her legs straddling him. The sheets were a mess, tangled around JJ’s legs while they were pulled over the pair. 

  JJ sighed, letting go of some of his weight as he let his head fall into the crook of her neck. She giggled as he placed open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder. “I think I have more important things to take care of,” He muttered as her fingers trailed up into his hair. She giggled at his ticklish kisses. The sound of the phone stopped. “See, now we can go for another round-” 

  The shrill ring started again. JJ was conscious not to put all his weight on her as he slumped more. “JJ, just answer it and get whatever it is over. Maybe it’s important.” She urged him, pulling his face from her neck. 

  “Oh, I know who it is. They are still trying to torture me, I am sure,” He groaned, lifting himself up enough so he could grab his phone, holding himself up by one arm. Y/N let her hold on his hair drop, one hand rubbing up and down the arm he kept her caged in. He plopped the phone on the bed next to them, resuming their position. She could see Kie’s name on the phone, a picture of her she took once when she stole his phone as her contact. He hit answer before clicking the speaker phone button, settling against her body once again. “What?” He asked as Y/N went back to dragging her nails up and down his muscular back. 

  “What do you mean ‘what’, Maybank,” Kie’s angry voice sounded through the phone. JJ huffed, rolling his eyes as Y/N silently giggled. “You were supposed to call us two hours ago to tell us what happened and how it went.” She scolded him. 

  “Well, we were busy.” JJ snapped, looking down at Y/N, winking. 

  “Busy for two hours? What on earth-” Sarah cut her rant off, presumably because someone gave her a hint. “Well that’s good, right? That means you guys made up?” She spoke hopefully. JJ and Y/N looked at each other, ridiculous smiles on each of their faces. 

  “It is good.” Y/N agreed, eyes consumed by JJ. 

  “So, are you dating? Are you guys feeling it out? Tell us!” Sarah pressed, sounding like a kid on christmas morning. 

  “We’re dating. Officially and not secretly.” JJ informed them. Hoping this call will end soon. Y/N found herself wishing the same thing which made her start to press kisses along his chest, looking up at him through her eyelashes. He groaned, leaning his head down to lightly bite her shoulder - trying to stay quiet. But that only egged Y/N on. 

  “Say,” Pope’s voice popped up over the phone, pausing for a second. “You two aren’t in bed naked by any chance, are you?” He posed the question, most likely knowing the answer to it already. 

  “I think you already know the answer to that, Buddy.” John B spoke for JJ and Y/N.

  “What JB said.” JJ pulled his mouth away from Y/N’s shoulder. A chorus of disgusted noises and complaints left their friends.

  “How are you not grossed out by this, John B?” Kie questioned, her nose turned up. 

  “I told you not to call him! I told you they would be busy!” He defended himself as JJ hit the end call button, smacking his phone off the bed carelessly.

  “Another round?”

  “Another round.” He answered, lips crashing against hers as he settled his weight on her just enough to earn a hum from her.