#I WROTE ……. SO MUCH MORE THAN I MEANT TO…… I GOT CARRIED AWAY..

[isabelguerra]

okok happy birthday I really want to know more wizard au stuff but I cannot find your fics pls a link would be much appreciated

also this is just like a free space to talk abt your au literally whatever you've been wanting an excuse for this anon is 4 you happy birthday my friend !!! we're not mutuals but you're like one of two regular pnat people on tumblr which is a bond I Think

THANK YOUUU FOR THE BIRTHDAY WISHES!!!! 💕💕 If it makes you feel better I’m not mutuals with ANYONE. This is a sideblog. Regardless it’s nice to have you here, I’m glad to be one of your few pnat blogs. :)

AND WELL LOL that would be because most of wizard au currently isn’t published! the best place to know more stuff about the au is either in my #wizard au tag, or just asking me! i love to talk about it, and right now it’s a lot easier for me to answer asks in my spare moments. i occasionally post screenshots from my doc files on here, but the fics are taking a backseat while I work on my Job Project.

Alternatively, you can check out:

The Pnat At Wizard School AU I Made When I Was 16 Is Still Fun Unfortunately JKR DNI - This was my first attempt at publishing the writing I’d done, before I got embarrassed and orphaned it, back in 2020. It’s a little outdated but most of it holds up. Boggart fic is one of my favorites.

Pnat Hogwarts AU by Twilighteve. I made wizard AU way back in 2015 with a friend, and twilighteve wrote SEVEN FICS as fanwork. The story now is different and follows Isabel rather than Max, but these are still great fics and I’m very lucky to have had someone enjoy my au enough to write so much for them. Throughout the Tournament is a really fun read.

i cant believe i’ve had this story for like 8 years at this point. i think it’s almost more fun to have as an au on my blog than an actual fic series? looking back whenever i start thinking about The Fics i just get stressed out. i’ve had it as an au since 2015 and i’ve had writing wips since 2018. its nice to have something with me for that long, i think thats why i keep coming back to it? even though thinking about it in terms of Fic Output and Writing Order makes me so stressed. at the end of the day it’s mine. and it’s there for be an outlet for me. if i want to be lazy about it, i can. if i want to put a lot of hard work into it, i can. i get to cozy up before bed and imagine wizjo scenarios.

and seeing how the characters have developed over the years has been weird- like, i wrote a lot of this in 2015. what do you MEAN codys a vampire. what do you MEAN theres whole new areas of the paranormal. its funny but when put next to current pnat you can REALLY see how its dated lol. so much is built on top of the 2015-2016 era headcanons like cody & lisa being twins, or not knowing what the spirit in isabels umbrella was like. we didnt know flipflop yet!!!! hes just not in there!!!!! we didnt know what the BERG was so max isnt a catboy!!! davy doesnt exist!!!!!!!

and there are in-comic background characters that we would talk about and gave names who show up in the au. these two are chasers on the gryffindor quidditch team with isabel & johnny:

& we named them sarah and logan. that might canonically be their names too????? but i cant remember.

Here are some very practical Wizard AU facts:

Story spans from 2nd year when Isabel loses Eightfold to 7th(?) year when they graduate

The biggest reason so much isn’t on AO3 is because theres so much I have no idea how to organize it. For example:

At my current pace, I have ~5 fics based on central emotional beats. In order to keep things interesting for non-izjo readers, I tried adding a little overarching plot

Said plot now vastly overshadows the initial series purpose of a Dorky 6 Year Long Izjo Slowburn

‘Wait I don’t care about this i just want my dorky 6 year long izjo slowburn. but wait, this has lived in my head since 2015, is it even legible to anyone who would just be coming into it?’

~5 central plot fics, each with around 5 chapters at maybe 10k per chapter give or take. is roughly 250k total. even if i do publish this it’s going to take years

What else is there…………. Isabel is really good at offensive magic. She becomes quidditch team captain in their 5th year. Max hates flying on brooms.

Wizjos arc means so much to me.

Their friendship vaguely starts in 2nd year. theyre the quidditch beaters but work horribly together- they argue a lot and dont get along at all, it almost gets them kicked off the team. theyre forced into a situation that pairs them to work together sometime mid semester, and at the end of it they’re still… tense, but have a better understanding of each other? like ‘you annoy me but we had a moment that i would feel bad betraying. i think were more similar than i thought and i dont know how to feel about it yet’. Johnny develops his crush and it’s very strangled because he’s 12.

By 3rd year they’re more cooperative. Getting towards friendly. Theyre teammates AND housemates, so even though theyre in separate friend groups they spend a lot of time together. Still bickering but there’s slowly more and more fun behind it. Less ‘i’ll shove you off your broom’ and more ‘hey maybe if we do x we can shove x off their broom together’. Isabel begins having fun hanging out with johnny because he bites back. It’s stopped being annoying and become ‘oh hes just as conscious (whether he knows it or not) about his image as i am. it’s nice to put that down around someone. and also blast him with wizard lasers sometimes. and get blasted by wizard lasers.’

By 4th year they’re friends and Johnny’s still sitting with his feelings. It’s just a part of daily life. Wake up. Brush teeth. Shut Up Guerra (Hey Guerra). Lunch. Pick on a 2nd year. Meet up with Guerra before practice. Tell that one joke cause it always makes her laugh. Don’t make it obvious how you feel. Don’t let it slip how you feel. Don’t jeopardize this. Don’t do anything that’d make her feel weird. You’re her friend and he likes being her friend so it’s not a big deal. Isabel has slowly been getting more pressure from her grandpa, and every time shes stressed and cant go to her AC friends she goes to Johnny. So by 4th year they’re more or less best friends.

By 5th year they’re a capital T Team. Isabel’s gryffindor captain now and Johnny’s essentially her right hand. He’s there to hold new member tryouts with her, they study in the commonroom late at night, hes so gleeful about her uppity new position that he permanently cements calling her Captain into their teasing nicknames and Isabel hates it. In return Isabel makes him do extra laps, because she can do that now. And then Johnny gets in a non-serious accident and is in the infirmary for a week and suddenly Isabel is confronted with Oh. Oh I Don’t Like This. Oh This Is Bad. He’s fine he just gets like a concussion or something but Isabel doesn’t KNOW that right away and all of a sudden she’s faced with ‘i didnt realize how much of my life you’ve become and i miss you now that youre not there’ ‘…….why do i miss you now that youre not there.’ ‘we have a quidditch match coming up and i dont know if youll be healthy enough to play’ ‘i dont care about the game. id cancel in an instant if it means you wont have to play injured’ ‘………………why did i-’ etc. And afterwards Johnnys FINE but isabel is left with this weird hole in her gut and the reality that In That Situation That Was My Reaction And Those Were My Feelings. She’s confronted with the fact that somewhere along the line, Johnny became someone important to her. And that him getting hurt worried her. Because she cares about his wellbeing. Because she likes spending time with him. Because he’s her quidditch partner. Because she doesn’t think she could see herself playing with anyone else. Because she doesn’t think she’d want to play with anyone else. And then shes in trouble.

By 6th year is when things start kicking into gear. For starters the Triwizard Tournament because I can’t do a wizard au without some wizard deathsports. None of it is directly involved, that’s actually MAX’S B-plot, but a lot of what goes on because of it directly influences the wizjo A-plot.

Now we’re dealing with Johnnys time-tempered feelings that he’s accepted nothing would happen with but are still very alive, and ISABEL, who has JUST realized and has been stewing in her feelings all summer. With no outlet or real processing. Cant even go to johnny about it because well he Is johnny. He’s johnny and he gets under her skin and helps her with her transmutation homework and when she blasts him in dueling class he gets back up with a bigger grin than when she knocked him down. And she’s going to explode, she thinks.

And I’ve talked about this but when Headmaster Boss Leader (lmfao) says the forest is off limits during the tournament, of course they bet who can sneak out and last longer. And of course both friend groups scatter and get lost in the woods and of course who finds each other but. each other. and of course theyre both angry and worried about their friends and on guard bc theyre in the fucking forbidden forest at like 1am. Isabels ashamed that she didnt think more and johnnys grumpy and theyre so so blaming it on each other. Don’t deal with your feelings when you can express them through what you both know best: bickering and riling each other up to get the energy out. Isabels doing all this while trying Not to think about her crush. Johnnys long accepted his crush and that it’s not going to happen. So they are both very very surprised when Isabel kisses him mid argument, much to her horror. She apologizes and they get back to looking for their friends, who find them first. Later that night Isabel decides to apologize properly, because in her mind she let her emotions get out of control and seriously took advantage of him and she feels horrible about it. He’s someone she cares about, even though he probably doesn’t feel the same way, and it was wrong (She’s beating herself up and saying see? heres what happens if you let yourself have nice things. youd be lucky if he even speaks to you after what you did. you cant do this again.). Johnny however hears ‘that meant nothing to me i’m embarrassed and dont read into it’. Which is. Fine. He knew that. He’s known that. Hes big and scary and doesn’t let something like rejection get to him. Especially cause it wasn’t even rejection because she was never interested in the first place! Which he knows! So it doesn’t matter! And he can handle it really well! Yeah sure thing Guerra no big deal why’d she ever WANT to kiss him right theyre not like that! See her at practice ! they both walk away like Glad that was cleared up! [screaming]

This keeps happening. 6th year is when everything thats been boiling starts bubbling over.

isabel kisses johnny and everything gets wobbly. they’re trying to focus on their studies, and quidditch, and maintain that comfortable friendship theyve had since 3rd year, and not think about how nice it would be to try it just one more time. everyone, including the guest students from other schools that are here for the tournament, can see that theyve got something going on, even if they cant. johnny makes an excuse to drape his legs over isabels lap. isabel finds an excuse to grab johnnys wrist, or nudge him on the shoulder. they’re trying to deal with how things used to be and how they are now and how they want them to be and how they feel.

they ALMOST kiss again during wizard prom, which they don’t attend together. but they dont.

and then they have exams in spring. and isabels sooooo confident that she’ll knock out that stupid dog boggart just like she did third year. so she’s pretty shaken up when her grandpa shows up instead and says hes pulling her out of school early. shes too much trouble and hes through putting up with this time-wasting education, its time for her to quit being an embarrassment to him and finish learning the family magic. theres a lot more insults thrown in but thats the jist. and she goes running to the commonroom because not only did all that happen and she’s freaking out, but it happened and she freaked out in front of the entire class. and johnny goes after her because hes worried like crazy and they have a moment and he goes a bit overboard on the whole ‘if thats what your real grandpas like then i dont care who he is hes a jackass. cant he see what an annoyingly massive brain youve got on your shoulders or how youre cracked at strategy or’ and he does that for like 10 minutes while gently rubbing her back and isabel is having another crisis on top of her grandpa crisis. because what she tried so hard to kill is still very much alive. and hes being weirdly soft and comforting and she feels better with him here and its a lot to deal with. And she feels horrible and guilty and she doesn’t want him to stop.

Johnny is trying desperately to break tension and make sure she knows its bullshit. She’s HIS friend! Nobody talks like that about one of HIS friends and gets away with it! Even if it was a creature disguised as her grandpa and not actually her grandpa! SHE deserves to know that it’s not true and HES not gonna stand by it! But shes resisting and hes frustrated and there’s got to be SOMETHING thatll get through her head there’s got to be SOMETHING he can do to show her what he thinks but shes being DIFFICULT and hes BAD AT WORDSTHINKING and- oh okay thats a kiss. To get through her big smart wonderful dense skull. And it’s very soft and very determined to say ‘you’re wonderful. this is how wonderful i think you are. you dont need me to tell you it but please listen please please please if you need to hear it from someone else ill tell you. i dont really know how to in the way you deserve but youre worth learning’. All in front of the couch they spent hours on studying and planning matches on and napping and its warm and isabel is. well. Isabel Is In Trouble.

And then oh. Well. Um. Hello Maxwell. Who Came To Check On Us Because We Were Taking So Long .

frankly i’m still not sure how they sort that one out. johnny awkwardly excuses himself. and sometime before the school year ends they Actually Talk About It

By 7th year theyre together and very happy and very much the school menaces. Turns out avoiding your feelings gets you nowhere when instead you could face them and put your head together and cause all your separate rabblerousery with each other. And also hold hands with your best friend who you meet for breakfast and fall asleep on and spar against and get excited over the upcoming quidditch season with and kiss and sneak out to the astronomy tower with a blanket. isabel doesn’t want to take over franciscos legacy and johnnys like ‘i mean youve been pretty busy buildin your own, cap’. and she thinks. yeah. but itd be um. kind of empty with just me, dont you think?

Because she likes spending time with him. Because he’s her quidditch partner. Because she doesn’t think she could see herself playing with anyone else. Because she doesn’t think she could see herself wanting to play with anyone else. And then shes in trouble. Because neither does he.

#asks #anon #I WROTE ……. SO MUCH MORE THAN I MEANT TO…… I GOT CARRIED AWAY.. #THANK U FOR THE ASK I WENT A LITTLE BONKERS #head in my HANDS. WIZJO. #wizard au

[honnelander]

busgirl

once again i got carried away and wrote way more than i planned too lol thank you to the lovely anon who requested this and i hope i did your prompt justice request: what if the reader’s a merchant’s daughter who was supposed to marry a suitor but she runs away and ends up meeting sanji

WARNINGS: none

word count: 3.4k

pairing: opla!sanji x fem!reader

summary: reader is arranged to be married but she won't stand for it. so what does she do? she runs away and meets one particular chef, begging him for help

masterlist

taglist: @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @smolracoon25 @mischiefmanaged71 @amanda08319

You never imagined your life turning out like this: still living with your father at this grown age, never having gone beyond your small island town ever in your life, and waking up every day just to relive the same day over and over again. It was torture.

Every single day of your life has been the same since you left school: you woke up before the sun rose, made breakfast for you and your father, helped prepare the wagon for its daily trip into town, then spend all day yelling in the town's square trying to sell any shoes you could (your father was a shoe merchant), pack up the unsold product at the end of the day, head home, make dinner, then go to bed soon after cleaning up just so you could wake up and do the same things all over again. You hated it.

But what could you really do to change anything? You were born to a poor shoe merchant and ever since your mother had died, things had become even tighter for your small family, of now, two.

Your father never had much, barely a penny to his name, so that meant you also had no money to your name either. Sure, you could've started a side hustle of scams and cons, maybe trying your luck at playing poker at the docks whenever pirates showed up, but how could you just leave your father like that? Just leave him all alone once you scraped together enough berry to buy a one-way ticket out of this town? As much as you were tempted, you couldn't. It didn't feel right. And besides, you were always too exhausted at the end of the day to do anything else anyway.

But then one day, your father said something that would change your life forever.

The day started out like any other. You had cooked a quick meal of toast and eggs for yourselves and once you finished your plate, you moved to get up to put the dishes in the sink for later.

But before you could get out of your seat, your dad grabbed your wrist gently, telling you to stay seated. "Actually, y/n, no need to rush this morning. We're not going into town today."

"What?" You were taken aback. You couldn't remember a day where you both didn't do this daily routine. "Why?"

Your father couldn't look at you in the eye. Instead, he kept his focus on his half-eaten breakfast, which was also weird. He normally finished eating before you. "Y/n...you know I wouldn't do this unless I had no other choice," he started.

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach. What was happening?

"But business has been really slow lately, and I tried to hold this off for as long as I could," he continued.

"Hold what off?"

He kept talking like you hadn't said anything. "But there really was no other choice." He swallowed and finally looked up and the look in his eyes scared you. You've never seen your father look that upset before...the only other time he had looked like that had been when mom died.

You tried to swallow but your mouth was dry. "Dad, what's going on?"

"And you know I always will love you, right?"

"Dad," you said a little more sternly, your heart beating a thousand miles a minute. "What is happening?" After a moment of silence, you repeated yourself. "Dad, answer me."

His next sentence hit you like a ton of bricks. "Y/n, I arranged for you to be married."

You couldn't move. "What?" you breathed.

Like always, your father continued on like you hadn't said a word. "He's a nice man, a decent man. His name is Olaf and he's from the North Blue, comes from money..."

You felt your dad tighten his grip on your wrist and suddenly you felt like you were being suffocated. You ripped your hand away from your dad's grip, the sting of betrayal hurting more than any cut or wound ever could. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you fought your hardest not to let them fall. "You sold me?" your voice quivered.

Those three words finally got your dad's attention. He looked into your eyes again, hurt evident in his gaze, but you realized you didn't care. Not anymore. "No," he replied firmly. "You know I would never sell you to anyone. I would never do that."

A humorous laugh escaped your lips. "Oh? But you'd put me in an arranged marriage instead? For money?" When you blinked, tears fell down your cheeks. "Are we really that poor dad?" you spat.

"Y/n-"

"Why didn't you tell me how bad off we were before? Before-" you stuttered and waved your arms around, "before all of this? I could've- I could've done something, anything." You ran a hand through your hair as you exhaled, a sardonic smile appearing on your face as you looked up to the ceiling, up to whatever God had subjected you to this cruel fate.

"There's nothing you could've done, y/n."

"You don't know that!" you exclaimed. Pure hot red rage adorning your features as your furious eyes snapped down to look at your dad. "I could've hustled, I could've conned the guys down at the dock for some money. I could've done something instead of nothing!"

"And then what? End up dead in a dark alley once those men found out you stole money from them? End up raped?" Your dad's anger matched yours, his voice growing louder with each sentence. "Maybe become a pirate? There is no way I would ever let that happen to you y/n."

Your dad hated pirates and you knew he would rather die before he ever let you become one.

You flung your arms up in exasperation. rolling your eyes as you let out a frustrated groan. "Oh I don't know dad," you yelled, "maybe I could've joined the Marines or something!"

But your dad didn't like the Marines either. He believed pirates and Marines were the same person, just in different clothes.

"I wouldn't let you do that either, you know that y/n."

Suddenly, a thought stuck you: you were an adult, so why was your father still making all of these major life decisions for you? It didn't make sense.

But you knew one thing: you certainly weren't going to marry some rich guy you didn't know from the North Blue. Not if you were still living and breathing.

You glanced at the open window behind your dad, seeing the early morning tinges of a sunrise lighting up the sky. Perfect, you thought. Docked ships normally didn't leave port until the sun broke the horizon, so you had a chance to hop aboard any ship that would take you far far away from here. Away from your miserable life and a father you were realizing you hated.

The sky started becoming brighter by the minute and your heart rate started to spike. You estimated you had around 20 minutes or so until the sunrise broke and if you were serious about running away, it was now or never.

Suddenly, you stood up from the kitchen table and realized that your father had stopped whatever he was saying to look at you with a curious expression.

"Y/n?"

"Y-you know what dad?" your voice shook and you swallowed your nerves. "I...I think you're right? This Olaf guy probably isn't that bad and would probably give me a better life than I ever could," you ground out and forced a smile that you were sure looked more like a grimace. "I'll do it."

If today had been a normal day, your dad would've been tipped off that something was up but he was just so relieved that you were actually agreeing to all this.

Your dad had a relieved smile on his face as he said, "That makes me so happy to hear that y/n. You have no idea."

"Y-yeah, me too," you agreed with a small nod. You reached down to pick up your plates but your hands were shaking.

Your father placed a hand on your arm. "I understand you're nervous sweetheart. Why don't you go lie down in your room? There's some time until Olaf gets here. I can handle the dishes for today."

Perfect. You agreed and nodded quickly. Thanking your dad and giving him one last look before you went up to your room and never saw him again.

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

Your lungs were burning as you ran towards the docks. You could feel sweat running down your back as you pushed yourself to run as fast as you could, arms pumping and feet kicking out dirt behind you.

The sky was beginning to turn a lighter shade of orange and a ping of fear gripped your heart.

What if you didn't make it? What if all the ships were all boarded up and ready to set sail by the time you got there? It wasn't uncommon for ships to leave a tad early since most of them had a full day at sea before them but you were so close, you just had to make it. There were probably around five minutes or so until you reached the docks and you just had to get over this ridiculous hill.

But your legs were tired and your sides were cramping and you could feel yourself slowing down due to exhaustion. You weren't a huge runner to begin with but you were literally running for your life- so what choice did you have?

If you made it through all this, you vowed to yourself that you would get better at running. Who knew the next time your life would depend on it?

As you reached the top of the hill, you took a quick second to breathe and survey the docks before you but what you saw nearly stopped your heart. There were normally a dozen or so ships that littered these docks but it looked like most of them had headed out early with only a few ships remaining, and the ones that were left? They looked like they were nearly ready to leave port as well.

With newfound urgency, you sprinted down the hill, yelling out to any sailor who would listen to your plea.

"WAIT!" you screamed. "Wait for me!"

But no one acknowledged you. You started to wave your arms around, your travel bag bouncing around as you continued to sprint.

"PLEASE! I beg you!"

As you got closer, you could start to make out the names of the few ships that were there. There was one ship called "The Happy Farewell" and you figured since they were closest you would try them first.

"Get lost girl," the ship's captain sneered. "I got no use for a girl like you."

"But please, I need to leave. You don't understand," you begged.

The captain clicked his tongue as he shook his head. "Don't we all?" he muttered. But he spared you one last glance before boarding his ship and something in your expression must've been wildly desperate because he sighed before nodding towards the ship two docks down. "Zeff's."

"What?"

"Go to Zeff's ship, girl. The Baratie. He doesn't have the heart to turn away desperate souls like yourself."

Your head whipped towards the direction the captain was looking and you saw the decent-sized Baratie standing there.

"But you better hurry," he warned. "They're setting sail as soon as we leave."

You quickly looked back at the captain to thank him but he was already walking up the plank to board his ship, barking out orders to let down the sails and hoist up the anchor.

Shit. You had to hurry.

You sprinted two docks over and once you reached the dock The Baratie was tied to, you saw a couple of men in white coats loading up the last of the crates of food onboard. You had just made it.

It was weird to you that these pirates were dressed up in matching white coats and blue bandanas around their collar but, hey, it could always be worse and you weren't in a position to be picky. You would even join a circus crew at this point.

You made your way over to the closest "pirate", a tall blonde guy that had hair almost covering his left eye. He was inspecting one of the crates, clipboard in hand and checked things off as he examined it.

"Excuse me," you huffed, trying to get this man's attention. "But I need your help. I need to speak to the ship's captain."

"Don't we all," the guy replied with a good-humored laugh and crooked smile, not looking up from his clipboard.

"Please," you urged. "It's important."

The man looked up from his clipboard and did a double-take, clearly not expecting a young woman like yourself, who looked like they just ran away from demons, asking to speak to the captain this early in the morning.

His eyebrows rose as he looked you over, his smile disappearing. "Are you alright Madam? Is something the matter?"

As his eyes scanned you over, you noticed how good-looking this guy was. And here you were, all sweaty and disheveled, your hair probably sticking out in all different directions. You prayed to whatever God was out there that you didn't have sweat stains on your shirt.

What a day this was turning out to be.

You ran your hands over your hair, trying to smooth down your flyaways and hoping you looked a bit more presentable. "I will be alright, when I speak to the captain."

"Anything I can help you with?"

What the- was this guy hitting on you? Your wandering eyes snapped back to look at this man when he asked that, looking to see if he really had the audacity to hit on you while you were begging for help, but you saw no trace of flirtation whatsoever, just concern.

"Ah- no. Unless you have the power to give me a spot on this crew."

The man's eyes lit up (you noticed they were blue). "Ah, so you want to join the Baratie? Become a chef yourself?"

You looked at him in utter confusion, blinking a couple times to make sure you heard him right. "Huh? A chef?" You looked at his outfit a little more closely and turned to examine the other men who were dressed similarly. You didn't notice it before, but they weren't just wearing any white coat, they were wearing a chef's white coat. "You guys are chefs?" you asked dumbly.

The chef, as you now noticed, rubbed his jaw as he tried to hide his smile at your obvious question. "Yes, Madam. We're chefs."

"So you're a pirate chef?"

The blonde cook couldn't hide his laugh at your series of questions, his blue eyes sparkling and white teeth showing like he had just heard the funniest joke. "No, Madam. We're just chefs. Not pirates or pirate chefs."

You felt stupid and felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Oh." But if they were all chefs on this boat, did that mean... "Wait- do I have to be a chef in order to get on this boat?"

"Ah well, if it were up to me," he sighed, "I would give you a spot on the ship regardless if you could cook or not." He twirled the pencil between his fingers as he crossed his arm in thought. "Although, we do need some new waiters. The dining room always seems to be short-staffed..."

You opened your mouth to quickly volunteer yourself even though you never waited tables a day in your life but the blonde chef kept talking.

"Or," he thought out loud," if you really wanted to be a chef with no experience, there are ways you could get into the kitchen. We do need a new busboy. Or girl," he quickly corrected. "Move your way up and learn..."

The sun broke the horizon, the morning orange light now fading into yellow. You swallowed. You were out of time. If you couldn't get a spot on this ship then your life was over.

"I'll do it," you quickly interrupted and nodded. "I'll- I'll do anything. A chef, a waiter, a busboy or busgirl- anything. I'll even clean toilets if I have to. I just- I need to get on this ship."

Your desperate plea silenced the chef, pulling him out of his musings and you could see concern wash over his features. But before he could say anything else, a voice called out from the top of the ship's plank.

"Oi! Sanji! What the hell are you doing down there, son?" the man with a tall chef's hat and braided mustache called out. As he made his way down to the dock, you noticed one of his legs was a wooden peg instead. "The sun's broken the horizon. I don't know how many times I need to tell you this, but next time we pull out of port late, I'm shoving my leg up your ass and you're off the line for a week."

Sanji shook his head, for once not caring about the threat of not cooking, and looked at his father figure, nodding to you. "Zeff, you need to speak to this girl. You have to let her join our crew."

You watched as Zeff followed Sanji's nod and looked down at you with raised eyebrows. It was like he just noticed you were there. "Her? For the last time Sanji, I'm not letting one of your one-night stands join the crew," he said with an exasperated sigh and turned back towards the ship. "Pretty or not."

"Wait!" you called out, grabbing Zeff's arm and immediately dropping it when he turned to look at you in disbelief. "I, I don't know him," you quickly said, pointing at Sanji and taking a big step away from him to prove your point, "My name is y/n and I desperately need a spot on your ship, Sir. Please."

Zeff studied you for a moment, eyes scanning your face. "People like you normally aren't 'desperate' to join my crew."

"But I am, Sir. I," you inhaled a shaky breath at the thought that this man could also turn you away. "I can't stay here. I need to leave. I'll do anything. I can even scrub the toilets."

Zeff regarded you with a short sigh. "Lass, there's no way I would have you scrubbing toilets. I'd make him do that way before asking you," he said and jabbed a thumb at Sanji, silencing Sanji's scoff of disbelief with a look. His face became serious as he asked, "You're serious aren't you?"

You nodded. "As serious as I can be sir."

The head chef became quiet, looking at you like he was trying to figure out what you were running away from, but it wasn't any of his business. At the end of the day, everyone had a past and he wasn't there to judge.

"Alright, lass, you want a position at my restaurant that badly? You got it. Your first service as a busboy- girl, whatever- starts tonight." He pointed a finger at you and with a stern voice asked, "Everyone on this ship earns their keep, alright? And no talking back. Understood?"

Relief flooded your veins at his words, you couldn't control the smile that stretched your cheeks as you nodded. "Yes, chef."

The corner of Zeff's mouth twitched upwards in amusement and he nodded once. "Good." As he turned around to head back onto the ship, he glanced at Sanji. "I like this girl. Wherever you found her...good job, son." He started walking back up the plank onto the ship and called out, "Get those last few crates up on here, boy. We got to leave, we have a dinner service tonight!"

You frowned as you watched Zeff walk away, a little annoyed at the thought that 'Sanji found you' instead of you finding him. When you looked over at Sanji, you saw him still watching Zeff make his way up the plank, beaming slightly at the head chef's praise.

"You didn't find me. I found you," you said to your newest crewmember.

Sanji looked over at you, a small mischievous smile on his face. "And aren't you glad you did?"

Before you could correct him or slap him, you heard Zeff calling out to you from the ship's deck. "Oi! Y/n! What are you doing down there? I'm not paying you to just stand there all day with Sanji! There's a pile of dirty dishes with your name on them in the sink."

"What? Already?" you grumbled as made your way up the plank to board the ship.

From behind you, you could hear Sanji's laughter and you could hear it until you made your way inside.

#sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji vinsmoke x reader #sanji x y/n #opla!sanji x reader #opla!sanji #one piece x reader #one piece live action #one piece fanfiction #sanji live action #opla #i loved how this turned out tbh #i may make a part 2 #just imagine the potential #thank you to the anon that requested this!

[blitzyn]

shut up

childe x m!reader

request: none

a/n -> im sick and tired of winter WHERE IS SUMMER. help i wrote some of this in public so i had to stop myself from acting out some of the motions just to figure out how to write it lmao. guys i kinda made him a little mean i just got a little carried away oopsies. anyways one more non req and ill work on reqs i hope

wc -> 3.8k

cw -> very dubcon, hate sex, a lil bit of blood, anal sex, spit as lube, not a lot of prep, degradation, manhandling, throat fucking, asphyxiation, reader is a masochist, mean dom childe, spitting (in ur mouth like once), chokehold, prone bone position for like 2 seconds lmao, brief descriptions of fighting, reader offs someone cuz he felt like it kinda, it starts sorta abrupt tbh lol, not beta read

Childe fucking hated you. This was old news—absolutely anyone who had the barest idea who he was knew that. Everyone within a twenty meter radius could hear him arguing about something, and it never seemed to be about the same thing more than once. There always seemed to be something the two of you nitpicked about each other, throwing it out into the open which, more often than not, led to a fight with no clear winner.

There wasn’t anything anyone could do about it since the two of you were Harbingers. You were ranked tenth after Signora’s death and The Balladeer’s desertion, just behind Childe who was in ninth. But that didn’t stop you from riling him up relentlessly, even finding some type of enjoyment from his anger because you knew it wasn’t particularly common to see. Really, there wasn’t much of a power difference between the two of you other than the fact that you were less experienced.

As such, you were often assigned to missions together—if assigned meant that you simply joined him when you didn’t have anything important to do, much to his obvious displeasure.

This time, you followed him towards a hideout hidden between large rocks. It was simple, and you preferred that it wasn’t so easily accessible, but you supposed that hiding it in plain sight was acceptable for now.

“I don’t like how easy it is to find this place,” you commented, taking in your surroundings as if you were impressed by how large the area was compared to the small cave entrance. “It’s so obvious.”

Childe only offered you a grunt in acknowledgement, making his way past a few scattered materials on the floor. This wasn’t a facility that the Fatui used as much as before, but some machines were still operational and functioning.

“Ignoring people when they’re talking to you is rude, Tartaglia,” you chided, but you couldn’t care less that he wasn’t responding. “Besides, it’s not like you disagree with me. You wouldn’t want a poor, helpless child accidentally stumbling across this place while they’re playing a game.”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and you could see him grit his teeth when he noticed the smug expression on your face. “Nobody’s gonna find the entrance. It’s been around for years and there hasn’t been a trespasser.”

“Really?” You hummed, nodding slowly to yourself. “If you say so.”

He eyed you warily, instantly skeptical of how quick you were to accept his statement. But that wasn’t important right now—he needed to retrieve some documents and collect money from a few debtors.

“Just… Just stay here. Don’t touch anything,” he instructed, unnerved by how you obediently sat on a rickety chair and watched him expectantly.

“Yessir,” you replied with a playful tone in your voice, crossing your arms over your chest comfortably.

He silently stared at you for a few moments. “What are you planning?” He blurted out, annoyed with the eyebrow you raised in question. “You don’t like listening to me.”

You rolled your eyes at his accusation. “I don’t really favor getting chewed out by whoever needs those papers, so hurry up and get what you need. I’d rather talk to the debtors, anyways.”

He didn’t move from his spot for a few more moments before hesitantly making his way toward an isolated room, seemingly accepting your response. You chuckled through your nose at his reluctance as you swirled your finger around, creating a small rabbit made out of Cryo. It was quiet and unassuming as it silently hopped around before you sent it out of the room, searching for any valuable items worth keeping as you waited.

You leaned back in boredom, shutting your eyes to focus on keeping the rabbit's form. You could feel a faint hint of interest radiating through you from your creation, cringing slightly at the smell of metal before you relaxed again. The rabbit was mid-search when an arrow whizzed past it, nicking its back. Quickly, it fled, leaving a trail of Cryo. The hunter cursed loudly and chased after it, but it wasn't long before it made it to its destination.

Curious, you released your focus on the rabbit as you stood up to pick up whatever it found. You looked up when the hunter suddenly walked through the cave entrance, slightly surprised to know that they hadn't stopped trying to go after your rabbit. The two of you stared at each other before you spoke up in mild disinterest.

"Can I help you?" You questioned, inspecting your find once again. It was shiny and had intricate designs on it, but ultimately worthless.

"Uh... Uh, yes! Yes, you can," they said after a moment, scoping the area in search of their nonexistent rabbit. "Have you seen a white rabbit run through here? Small, quick, and leaving some sort of trail behind it," they described eagerly, taking a few steps forward.

"I'm afraid you can't come in here," you said, raising a hand to stop them in their tracks. You analyzed them for a moment, taking in their appearance. They couldn't have been older than fifteen, with shaggy brown hair and tanned skin.

"Then why are you in here?" They countered stubbornly, crossing their arms. It seemed they forgot all about their hunt in favor of digging into your business.

"That's none of your concern," you replied, ignoring their questioning gaze above your shoulder. "If you don't leave now, I'll have to resort to force."

You bristled a little when you saw them roll their eyes. Too stubborn for their own good, apparently. "Yeah? Well, I'm the chief's kid. What's a weird-looking guy like you gonna do to me?"

You frowned, visibly offended. You stared at them for a moment before raising your dominant hand again, this time letting an icicle form on the tip of your middle finger before flicking it directly at them. In the blink of an eye, they went down with a loud thud. "Kill you," you replied to the body.

You walked up to them and lifted their head by their hair, examining the wound on their forehead with a hum. Blood leaked in copious amounts down their face, and you couldn't stop the grimace when some landed on your foot.

"Oh, shit," you hissed under your breath when you caught a better look at them. You wondered why they seemed so vaguely familiar to you when the realization suddenly hit you-the chief was one of the debtors. You pursed your lips before standing up with a shrug, placing a hand on your chin to ponder different ways to dispose of the body without tarnishing the Fatui's name even further. "I suppose I could just toss them in a lake? Or lure in a wild animal to eat them? Burning's too obvious..."

"What the fuck did you just do?" You heard Childe curse from behind you. You turned around to face him, eyebrow twitching in interest when you noticed his normally void eyes alight with fury. Honestly, though, you didn't quite understand why he seemed so upset. Maybe it was because of how transactions with the debtor may not go as smoothly as he wanted, or the fact that the person you killed was still technically a child.

"Someone found the entrance," you shrugged, unbothered by his reaction. "We don't want anyone finding important information about the Fatui, right? So I killed them. I told you it was easy to spot." You rolled your eyes like it was the most obvious thing ever, which only served to anger him. You tried to make your way past him deeper into the facility in search of something interesting to take when a sudden blur slammed your body into a wall. You let out a pained grunt, instinctively wrapping your fingers around the wrist where he pinned you down by your throat.

You knew he was ruthless when he needed to be, but you weren't given a chance to see it with your own eyes up until now. He was far from gentle, holding your delicate neck with such ferocity it made your skin tingle. It was exhilarating.

"Like hell they just conveniently found the entrance," he spat, his voice low as he glared deep into your watering eyes. "You deliberately lured them in here, didn't you? And for what? Because you were bored?" He refused to slacken the hold around your throat, internally finding that he preferred how you looked when you couldn't breathe.

"You—cough—You're much the s-same, Tartaglia," you strained out, trying to furiously blink away your tears. "Don't pretend you don't crave vi-violence, too."

You could see him grit his teeth just before he tossed you to the floor, watching you cough and regain your breath with disdain in his eyes. "No. Don't compare me to a fucking psychopath like you. I don't kill kids just because I feel like it!"

"To-may-to, to-mah-to," you groaned, rubbing your sore skin. You could still feel his hand around your throat, his grip burned into your flesh in a way that sent a familiar heat through your groin. He took a second to examine your body before zeroing in on the growing bulge between your legs, disbelief written on his expression.

"There's no damn way," he muttered to himself as if trying to convince himself you weren't aroused by him strangling you. With a growl, he stepped forward and harshly pressed a foot on your crotch, merciless with the amount of pressure he used. He watched in disgust as your hips jerked in response, frowning deeply at the pained moan you let out. "You're seriously turned on?"

"If it wasn't obvious—" You were unceremoniously cut off by a swift kick to your jaw, accidentally biting down on your tongue. You tasted the metallic tang of your own blood that originated from your mouth and your nose, wiping it away quickly. Your cock only throbbed with an increased fervor in your pants that strained for release against the fabric.

"Shut the fuck up," he snarled, staring down at you for a few moments, deciding what to do with you now that he had this newfound information in his hands.

"What's gotten you so upset?" You teased him, obviously not taking your situation seriously. You felt a pleasurable chill run down your spine at the fierce look he gave you, sitting up a bit in anticipation when you saw his hand stray down toward his pants, roughly undoing them.

"You just can't shut your mouth, can you?" He hissed, leaning forward a bit to grab a handful of your hair. He yanked you closer, forcing you onto your knees as he pressed the tip of his flaccid cock against your waiting tongue. "Fine, then. I'll shut it for you."

You hummed at the salty taste of his skin, raising your hands up to hold onto the swell of his muscular thighs. He groaned quietly when you dragged your tongue along a prominent vein on the underside of the shaft, looking up at him through your lashes. You let out a garbled moan when he forced you all the way down to the base, seemingly satisfied with the way you gagged a little.

Your nose was buried within his pubic hair as your throat tightened and spasmed, feeling yourself beginning to drool as the thick strands of saliva seeped out of the corners of your lips. You could hardly breathe, but you loved it. You loved the way he tugged on your scalp, starting to move his hips back and forth. You tried to contribute as much as you could, but the way you could feel his cock hardening sent a pleasant ache through your jaw.

"Fucking hell... You're not fit to be a Harbinger," he spat, holding you still as he reached down to swipe a bit of the blood from your nose to messily wipe it on your cheek. You couldn't see what he was doing, but the patterned swipes made it clear what he was writing.

S, L, U, T.

The word sent a jolt of electricity down your spine. You could feel your cock twitch in your pants, leaking a profuse amount of precum that served to stain the fabric. You let out a moan and slipped a hand underneath your clothes, jerking yourself off shamelessly.

He let out a breathy scoff at the sight, but he couldn't help the way his dick throbbed when your throat squeezed around him. "You're too good at this," he groaned, gradually moving his hips faster until he was fucking your face. "You don't belong in the Fatui. You're better off at a goddamn whorehouse."

He relished in the sound of your chokes and gags, finding that he preferred this much more than your voice. He let out a heavy sigh and shut his eyes, tilting his head back in ecstasy as he lost himself in the sensations. He was unaware of how you shifted your hand lower, using your precum as a subpar replacement for lube to push two of your fingers in your hole. You weren't in any particular rush as you leisurely pumped them in and out of you, adding in the wet sounds to your strained moans and ragged breaths. You were brought back to your senses when you heard him bark out a mocking laugh, squinting up at him through the tears that accumulated along your lashes.

"You're fucking pathetic," he muttered lowly, almost to himself, but you knew it was directed at you. "Is this—shit—all it took? You just needed a dick shoved down your throat, huh? Should've known you were such a whore," he demeaned, and you could only whine in response. Suddenly, he leaned a bit forward to press the sole of his shoe onto your aching cock, watching intently at the way you choked in surprise. "Maybe the rest of us should get a turn with you? Turn you into our little fucktoy? Our good-for-nothing cumdump?"

A grin made its way onto his pale face, turned on with the amount of control he had over you. His left hand slid lower, maintaining a firm grip on the junction between the back of your head and neck as his other one moved up to pinch your nostrils shut. He thrust harder, faster, shuffling closer when you tried to tilt your head away. He ignored your muffled protests and focused solely on getting himself off, letting out satisfied groans that you weren't fully there to appreciate.

It wasn't until you could hear a high-pitched ringing did he finally cum, shooting his load down your throat without a care for whether or not you could properly swallow it. He held himself there for a moment longer before he pulled himself away with a harsh shove to your body. You coughed and panted hard, taking a moment to regain your composure before looking back up at him, eager for more.

"Still not satisfied?" He questioned rhetorically. You both knew you weren't done yet, not when you found out how he could get when you pushed his buttons just the right way. "Stupid question, huh?" He huffed a laugh through his nose before roughly kicking you onto your stomach, dropping to his knees not a moment later. He haphazardly tugged your pants and underwear down in one go, ignoring the pained hiss you made when you felt yourself sandwiching your drooling cock between your abdomen and the floor. He spread your ass apart to spit on your asshole, shoving a finger inside you for good measure before jerking himself off using some of his saliva.

"Tartaglia, please—hurry," you whined, looking over your shoulder to meet his gaze. It was satisfying to see you in such a pitiful state, but the sound of your voice, although hoarse and raw, annoyed him.

"Be quiet or I'll leave you here like this," he snapped, giving your asscheek a quick slap before positioning himself over your hole. He rubbed the tip of it against your skin for a moment before pushing himself inside, groaning loudly at the feeling of you clamping down on him so perfectly.

It fucking hurt; after all, you only used two meager fingers to prepare yourself, and even then, you hadn't done much. It burned like he was tearing you apart but in the best damn way. The pain of being stretched out so mercilessly only mixed in with the insatiable fire in your groin, shooting jolts of electricity up your spine so intense you nearly came on the spot.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Tartaglia, please, you're so—!" You cut yourself off with a moan when he suddenly slammed himself down all the way, ramming the head of his cock against your sensitive prostate.

"I said shut up!" He demanded, pressing his hips down to grind against you. He wasn't as deep as he could go in this position, but he still managed to fill you up just right. You groaned when he leaned down, pinning you to the ground with his body weight as an arm snaked around the front of your throat, pressing it against you firm enough to restrict some of your airflow.

Instinctively, you raised a hand to grab at his forearm, digging your nails into the scarred skin in a futile attempt to get him to ease up. You could hear every sound that left his lips, every labored breath that brushed the shell of your ear. It didn't take him long to start moving, pulling out until only the tip remained before slamming back into you mercilessly. You could feel every inch and vein with each drag of his cock, your body jolting alongside his harsh thrusts, grinding your dick up and down on the ground.

"God... you're so damn tight," he muttered, picking up the pace. A low moan escaped his throat when he pressed against your prostate just right, ignoring your fleeting struggle.

It was hard to breathe. You could feel him everywhere around you all at once, and it didn't help that he fucked you hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs. Your moans and whines were strained and hoarse, clawing at his arm, but you knew you didn't really want him off. Your body ached at his rough handling as wet slaps echoed through the abandoned facility, briefly wondering if anyone outside could hear, but you could hardly maintain your train of thought long enough for it to become a concern. He fucked you fast and rough, hips slamming against your ass hard enough to sting, but he didn't find it in himself to care.

"Tar-Tartaglia! Slow...—!" You tried to plead, beginning to find everything overwhelming when you cut yourself off with a squeal. He quickly shifted himself, leaning back to hold your throat with his hands as he pulled, forcing your back to arch uncomfortably.

"No," he replied, tilting his upper half over you just enough to spit in your gaping mouth. He felt you tighten in response as he relaxed his hold the slightest bit, feeling you swallow his saliva eagerly. "You wanted this. So you're gonna fucking take it."

The heat in your belly intensified to an unbearable degree, and with the way he practically filled up every crevice of your hole, you weren't sure you were going to last much longer. With one hand on your throat, he moved his other one down to spread one of your asscheeks to intently watch his cock move in and out of you. He could feel every twitch and shudder you made, and it satisfied him to know just how easy you were to break down despite your initial resistance.

"Fuck... I can feel you," he groaned, yanking your head back a bit to get you to look at him. "You're about to cum, huh?"

It was hard to find the right words to reply when he fucked every thought out of your head, but the panic in your eyes made it clear that you didn't want him to stop so suddenly. And although he wanted to see you beg like the whore you were, he needed to finish this quickly. He still had a job to do, after all.

"You're lucky I still need to collect some money," he growled, glaring at you with familiar disdain. "Otherwise I would've left you like this for hours."

With renewed vigor, he removed his hand from your throat to roughly push your face down by the back of your head, tugging your hips up to bury himself deeper inside your ass. You cried out in ecstasy as your eyes rolled back, making an attempt to withhold your orgasm when he wrapped his fingers around your throbbing cock, jerking you off in time with his punishing thrusts, but to no avail. Barely a moment later, you came with a loud moan, cumming so hard it left you lightheaded and dizzy.

He chased after his own release, giving you a few more rough thrusts before he stilled, burying himself as deep as he could go inside you. You could feel his thick cock throbbing as he filled you up with his cum, shuddering at the warmth before you slumped back down to the ground. He remained still for a moment longer, catching his breath while he watched you tremble. With a sigh, he pulled out, grimacing a little at the sight of his dick slick with fluids, but he tucked it back in his pants regardless.

"Get up. We have to hide the body and get to the chief before anyone finds out you killed his kid," he said impatiently, walking towards the hunter to inspect it.

"Just... Just bury them, or something," you suggested, taking a moment to calm down before pulling your pants up. Finding a reflective surface, you summoned a bit of your Cryo and melted it with your body heat to wipe away the crusted blood on your face.

"Eugh... I can feel your cum," you found the energy to complain, turning to face Childe with annoyance written on your face. The audacity.

"Shut up and let's go. We're already behind schedule after your bullshit." He scowled, picking up the body, already having decided what to do with it. At least it wasn't your problem anymore.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," you said, quickly fixing your appearance. If it weren't for the slight limp in your gait, nobody would be able to tell he just fucked you within an inch of your life. Perks of being a Harbinger, you suppose.

cross-posted on ao3

#male reader insert #reader smut #reader #male reader smut #genshin impact smut #reader insert #male reader #genshin impact #x male reader #genshin smut #childe x you #childe x male reader #childe x reader #childe x reader smut #childe x male reader smut #childe tartagalia #gay #genshin x reader #x reader #bottom reader #dom character #sub reader

[carmyboobear]

Idk if you've written this but can you write about carmy and the reader arguing and he makes her cry? Idk I just feel like thatd be good angst fluff lol

AHH I got carried away as per usual. anyway this is good stuff. wrote a bunch. enjoy!!

word count: 1.3k

tags: traumatized carmy, mentally ill carmy and reader, arguing, language, HURT/COMFORT, ANGST/FLUFF, carmy being a sweetie

Hm…i'm spending a lot of time thinking about the set-up for this. Carmy is a very careful person when it comes to those he’s romantically involved in, but at the same time, he has a hard time controlling his temper when he's in the darkness, as i'll put it. 

here's something awful i think about that i wanna write about. carmy's stressed about work, because of course he is. he's carmy. his head is whirring, spinning with anxiety and self-hatred. i think you're just like him. mentally ill for mentally ill if you will. you're also in a bad mood, and he comes home from The Bear exhausted and keyed up.

“I hate when you push me away like this,” you admit. You've been trying to get him to talk to you since he's been home. Maybe he just needs space, but separation makes you anxious. Especially when he shuts down. 

“I'm sorry that it's so hard for you,” he spits, finally snapping and turning to face you. You've followed him into the dark bedroom, lit only by the harsh moonlight through the window. You flinch. You never quite get used to seeing him like this. 

“I—I just—“ you feel pressure beginning in the back of your eyes. You will it away. “How can I help you if you don’t talk to me?”

“Why do you care so much? Does it make you feel better to take care of someone more fucked up than you?” He snaps, voice raised. His words go down bitter, leaving an awful taste in your mouth. Something in you shatters.

“How could you ask me that?” Your vision’s gone hot and blurry. “I’m your partner. I love you, that’s why I care, you asshole!” You’re stifling sobs. You hate crying in fights like this, but it hurts. You can’t help it.

“Fuck,” Carmy mutters under his breath. He’s gone still in your blurred vision. “Baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that—“

“That was so fucked up, Carmy.” You move to sit on the bed, trying to wipe your tears away, but they keep coming. “What’s your problem?”

“You know what my problem is.” His remorse has swept away the anger, leaving him quiet before you. He leans down at your knees, hands on your thighs. “I shouldn’t have said that. Any of that.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Carmy nods quickly, and he raises a hand to your wet cheeks. “Fuckin’ asshole.”

“I know.” He takes your pain, your anger in its entirety. His other hand brings your knuckles to his lips. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.“

“Sure sounded like you meant it.” Anger flares up in your chest, hurt and betrayed, but you tamp it down, leaning into his hand cradling his face. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. “Damnit, Carmy.”

“I know. I know.” He’s still kissing your hand. “You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve you.” You hate it when he talks like this, because you can tell he really believes it.

“Don’t say that. Please.” 

“But it’s true.” You look down at him in the moonlight, at his sad blue eyes. “I always find ways to hurt you. I…”

“That’s what being in a relationship is, Carm.” You pat the space next to you. “Sit with me?”

“I keep having to remind myself of that.” He sinks into the bed next to you. “I’m so sorry for talking about you like that. Like you’re only doing this out of…I don’t know. Obligation.” He drags a hand across his tired face. “You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry. I just, I just think that—that I’m—fuck—“

“Slow down, Carm,” you say quietly. “It’s okay. You don’t need to force it. I’m listening.” He smiles bitterly at you, and you recognize the love in it easily. He takes in a deep breath before continuing. 

“I still have a hard time believing that anyone cares about me. I can’t even believe that you—love me.” You can practically see the shame rolling off of him in waves. “And it makes me scared.”

“Love is scary, isn’t it?” You say softly. He just nods. “It scares me, too. That’s why I kept pestering you when you got home. I…” You blink quickly. You don’t wanna cry again. “It scares me when I don’t know what you’re thinking. Because…I dunno. It just does.”

“Yeah?” You nod. He has this thoughtful expression that he holds for a moment as he stews on your words. “I didn’t think about it like that. I’m sorry. I think…I think when you kept asking me if I was okay, it…” he sighs, scratches at his temples. “I felt like I was…getting back into a corner. I think.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” You take his hand in yours. “I can see how that must’ve felt really bad.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault that I’m like this. I think—I think it just reminded me of my mom. We would always ask her if she was okay, because she’s fucking crazy, yknow? We didn’t wanna step on her toes. But it turns out we did anyway. And the way I acted just now, I was just like…” He can’t even get the words out. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, voice choked with emotion. “I love you. So much. You know that, right?”

“You tell me everyday. How could I not?” You pull him into a hug, tight and warm, and he instantly wraps his arms around you. “You’re not your mom, Carm. You're nothing like her. Okay?” 

“I don’t wanna be like her,” he whispers. “I don’t wanna be like her.”

“You’re not,” you remind him softly. “And you won’t be.”

Carmy leans back to look at you, but he remains close. His expression is knotted with pain. You run your thumb over his furrowed brow, and it makes his mouth curve upwards in a smile. It’s fleeting, but it was there. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’ll try to open up more. Let you know what I’m thinking.”

Suddenly, you think about when you first started dating Carmy. He was so scared to open up to you emotionally, but with gentle prodding, he fell apart instantly. There was a hunger in him to be known by others, to be seen by you, and it scared him to death. You see that same fear in him now, but you also see how much he’s grown since then. You doubt you would’ve been able to have this conversation at all in the first couple months. 

That makes you happy in a way you’re not quite able to word properly.

“Thank you. But I hope you also know I don’t want to force you. I just wanna help. And…” You measure your words carefully. “I’ll try not to let it freak me out so much. Because if you’re not in the mood to talk, I want you to know that’s okay. Okay?”

“Okay. I’d like that. If I don’t want to talk, I’ll just tell you. Instead of…blowing a fuse.” He laughs dryly. 

“I’d like that too.” You let out an exhale of relief you didn’t realize you were holding. “Wow, Carm. Look at us. Communicating!”

“I know.” That makes him laugh for real this time, and you’re laughing too. “I couldn’t do it without you.”

“I think you could. But I certainly like doing it with you.” His smiles grows wider at that, brimming with affection. 

“Let me make this up to you, baby.” He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and deep. You let out a little noise when his lips meet yours. 

“Make it up to me?” Carmy’s tongue is on your neck now. Oh. “Aren’t you tired? You—you have work tomorrow—?”

“Don’t care.” You fall back onto the bed, and the blankets deflate under you. You stare up at Carmy, his curls hanging by his face. “You’re more important.”

“Well, if you insist…” You giggle, and your giggles get louder when Carmy pulls up your shirt to blow raspberries against your stomach. “Carmy, quit it—oh—!”

He makes it up to you in full and more by keeping his head between your legs for the rest of the night. By the end of it you can't remember what you were mad about in the first place.

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #my blurbs #my asks #AHH.... started writing this thing this morning and then i got massively carried away. typical #anyway today was a carmy day for me (derogatory) so writing this felt pretty cathartic

[farfromstrange]

If You Need To Be Mean | Matt Murdock x Reader

PART 1 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt can't take another step, but you won't let him fall apart on his own. And if he needs to be mean, he should be mean to you.

Warnings: Angst, self-loathing, hurt/comfort

A/n: This is the first installment of my follower celebration and Valentine's special. This is a more recent fic I wrote, but it's been in the vault for a couple weeks. I just wish I could hug him as Karen did because the one hug he got throughout the show was not nearly enough. I wrote this because of the scene captured in the gif below and got inspired by a certain set of lyrics in the song I Don't Smoke by Mitski. Enjoy this, and Happy Valentine's Day, you lovely people! Go hug someone you care about. Spend time with friends. Be nice to each other. And don't forget to love each other.

He’s so fucking soft.

He doesn’t look like it—this muscular, stoic force of a man who carries himself with a confidence that leaves the people around him speechless. 

He doesn’t look like the kind of man who would be soft. But you know him, and you know that no man could possibly be more gentle, more caring, and more vulnerable than Matt is when it comes to the one he loves and trusts more than anything in this godforsaken world. 

His undying devotion for you has turned him into an open book. Your fingers read the scars on his skin like Braille. When you look into his unfocused hazel eyes, analyzing the specks of forest green inside them whenever the sun hits his irises just right, you see the man behind the iron mask he wears to shield his fragile heart from the world. 

You’re well aware of the hurt he has been through in the past, the hell he walked through to get where he is now, and you have never admired someone more than you do him. You have never felt more willing to surrender your entire being to another person because, in return, he offered you all of him. He did not do so from the beginning; it took Matt a while, but when his facade finally cracked and he broke down at your feet, you were more than willing to catch him.

On broken knees and bloody palms, he would crawl home to you. He would walk the same path Jesus walked with the heavy cross on his back if it meant holding you one last time. And he would die for you. 

He proved that time and time again, and you had never been so scared as when you thought the love of your life would never make it back home to you. That you would never get to see his smile again or feel his arms around you. You knew then that what you two have could only be true love. 

Whenever he touches you, your world is set on fire. It’s his way of seeing you. Feeling your pulse, feeling your skin, touching your face—he wants to memorize every inch of you every day, embracing all the changes he finds along the way and loving you even more for it.

You would go anywhere he goes, even if that meant following him to the end of the earth and jumping into the abyss with him; you would do it. You would do it all if only you could stay with him forever. At times, it’s sickening how deep your love runs, and how attached you are to him, but no one has made you feel this way before him. 

He makes you feel wanted, cherished, and desired. He proves to you how amazing you are every day, and when he forgets—when he pushes you away or gets lost in his head and you have to pull him back from the edge he doesn’t fall off again, he repents for what he believes to be the greatest sin he could ever commit, which is hurting you. Breaking your heart. But you have not left him, and you do not plan on doing so. Ever. You told him as much.

Matt Murdock is as endlessly devoted to you as you are to him.

You get to his vulnerable—his shattered—side in different ways on different days. Sometimes, he needs to cry, and sometimes he just needs to be mean. He needs to be mean, and he needs to beat someone up, but there come days when beating up someone else isn’t enough, and he takes it out on himself. Those days are the worst. 

He’s not infallible, and he’s not perfect, but you can’t stand to see him hurting. He doesn’t deserve it, no matter how badly he insists that he does. 

You can tell that he just wants to scream sometimes. You fight, you argue, but never when he’s feeling his worst. When he’s feeling his worst, Matt bottles it up. He bottles it up to the point he beats his fists bloody at Fogwell's Gym, needing you to patch him up after. He doesn’t even cry when you kiss his knuckles. He doesn’t cry when he accidentally opens them back up and it burns so badly, his cheeks turn red from the sheer agony.

Sometimes, we all need to cry, but Matt hates doing it in front of you. He hates taking it out on you. And he would rather blame and hurt himself than drag you down with him, which is something that you wish you could take away from him, but you never know how. All you can do is react when he finally spreads himself open for you. All you can do is hold him when he lets you, but more often than not, that is more than enough for this broken man you feel honored to be able to call yours. Only yours.

You’re standing in the doorway to his bedroom, wearing nothing but his shirt. The fabric carries his scent, mixing with yours on your bare skin.

It’s not a sexual thing. Not tonight. Not most nights, either. You wear his clothes and use his shampoo because you know how sensitive he is, and whenever you’re with him, you want him to be comfortable. When you smell like the both of you instead of the world outside of the four walls of his home, he can melt into you. No distractions, no limits, just the two of you, together.

Matt walks through the front door, dropping his bag by the door and his keys in the bowl. He tears the glasses off his face, having left indentations on the bridge of his nose from how long he had been wearing them all day. He has a black eye, and without his glasses, he fears that their clients at Nelson, Murdock, and Page might feel discouraged to come to them if they saw him purple and bruised.

You understand where he’s coming from, but he’s suffering. You want nothing more than to ease that suffering. To be good to him. For him. With him.

You look at him and you see a beautiful vase. A vase that was dropped on expensive marble floors and shattered into a million tiny pieces. Now, someone has to glue those pieces back together because the vase is too precious to let go to waste. You see a man who has been wearing a mask all day, every day, and all night, too—an invisible one that has nothing to do with the physical battles he fights for Hell’s Kitchen after the sun sets.

Matt feels like he is losing all control. Your concern only adds to his mental load. You try to hide it, but he is a bloodhound. He can smell, hear, and feel everything. Every little change in your behavior gets noticed, and you can’t hide how you feel about him.

The grabby hands of the outside world refuse to let him go. He can’t tune it out. It’s written all over your face. And you feel so utterly helpless, you could cry. You want to cry for him.

You exhale a soft sigh when he approaches you. “Matt,” you murmur. 

He sniffs. His eyes glisten in the soft yellow luminance of the Billboard outside, projecting a tragic beauty onto your beaten hero. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answers, his voice cracking halfway through one simple word. 

���So, everything?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” Matt nods, “Every-fucking-thing.”

His invisible mask falls to the ground, and with it, his defenses crumble. 

“I, uh…I can’t–” He steps in front of you, and his bottom lip quivers with the weight of a thousand different emotions that flicker like a burnt-out candle. “I can’t do this alone anymore,” he says. 

Your heart breaks. He’s towering over you, yet all he wants is to fall into you. You have to catch him before it’s too late. 

A tear rolls down his cheek. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t...I can’t take another step.”

“You’re not alone,” you whisper. “And you don’t have to–you don’t have to take another step if you don’t want to. You can take a break. You can breathe. It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

Matt falls into your open arms. You close them around him instantly, chest-to-chest, heart-to-heart. His sobs reverberate in your ear, and the salt of your tears mingles with his on the skin above your collarbone. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair and ball into a tight fist. You can’t let him go. He would fall apart if you did. “You’re gonna be okay,” your voice remains barely above a whisper. The cadence resembles a soft wave of vibrations that shake him to his very core. “You hear me?” you say. “You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

He grunts. 

“You always think that you have to function, but you don’t. The city may need you, but you need yourself even more. You can take a step back.”

The muscles in your shoulders protest when he digs his fingers in with such force that it almost makes your knees buckle. This is the storm he so often keeps from you because he’s afraid it might hurt you, but you can weather it. You can weather it for and with him. The pain is worth it if it means that he gets what he needs. If he needs to cling to you like a lifeline, you will stand still and bear it. Your love for him knows no bounds. 

Feeling you flinch, Matt’s grip on you loosens. You’re not having any of it. You pull him closer by the waist, and you say, “If you need to be mean, be mean to me.”

“Stop it,” his words resemble a strangled groan. 

“No. Let it out.” You sound so earnest, the truth becomes hard to miss. “I can take it.”

“Please.”

You shush him. He’s crushing you under his weight, but that is exactly what you wanted. Your arms are his shelter, his solace, and everything he needs to survive. 

The tsunami of emotions wrecks him, and he cries like he has never cried before. Through all of it, you are his unwavering pillar of calm. His lifeline. The one thing that remains consistent, and the only thing he can always count on. 

He’s so soft. The world doesn’t deserve him, and you will spend the rest of your life trying to protect his heart with your own.

Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #hurt/comfort #reader insert #charlie cox #lizzi’s vault

[silvershiningtarot]

PAC 18+ 👐🏾A Little Love Letter from your Soulmate & Twin Flame ~ Pick a Pile.

❤️A channeled Message from your future partners. Take what resonates and what doesn't. You can pick more than one pile.

Our time doesn't stop. I just wanna know how you feel about me. You wanna know how I feel about you? I dream about you all the time. I feel that our souls are already married. Can you feel it? I get this shocked feeling when I hold your hand in my dreams. I know your face. Remember that. In our past life, we were hunted down. I don't know why I said that but I guess it was meant to be said. I am your person whether or not you believe it. When you sing in the middle of the night, I can hear you. I love that curve body you got. I will be watching you over from the stars. I have incarnated myself to meet you. Can you believe that now? My sweet love ❤️, Do you remember me? You told me that you remember. How can you forget? You and I are the same. Our soul is the same. I don't like labels. Or you might like labels. You probably consider me a rebel but I’m not I just don't like labels. You and I share the same soul. You know that right? I feel that you run away from me because you're scared. No need to be. I got you. I won't let you fall. Of course, you dream about other dudes, and you think that they are husbands but they are not. I am your fucking husband. You piss me off when you don't believe it. You think I can't hear you, but I do. That shit hurts my feelings when you do. Sometimes I distance myself away from you because you push me away. Not me… You! I raise my voice at you, but I tried to call you, but you didn't answer me. Ugh, shit sucks. We are telepathically connected can you feel that? I know this may scare you but I know your name. I know your name seriously. But I am not going to say it. Look at that 3:33. I like it when you dress up so beautifully. Thank you so much, for taking care of yourself. I am glad you are eating. I feel that we should talk more about our life together. Our future life. I have a good feeling that our love lives here will be perfect. I know you see me as a baby daddy. I know I got kids but at the end of the day. My kids are taken care of. You shouldn't be worrying about our kids. That's right I said it my kids are your kids too. We are a family together. From another life before us, you tried to escape with me. But we were caught, I have dreams about our life before. It was just bad. But the good part is I was with you. No matter if I were send-off to war at that time. See! Our clock is going clockwise. Sing to me, my love. Do you dream about our life too? You are such a brilliant person. When I was a young child I manifest you, I remembered watching fairytale movies with my sibling dreaming that is us on the television. I am your beast and you are my beauty. My heart has been cold 🎿 Can you warm 🔅 it up? I love it when you rough me up in your dreams. My dominance-Matrix. Sorry, I tried to be sexy with my words. Obviously, that didn't work. I am such a geek 🤓. Hey, do you watch Revenge of the Nerds? Booger is my favorite character the way he burps is fucking awesome. Haha 😂. We got something in common. Your dreams are my dreams. I am coming to you. Can I cuddle next to you? I wanna touch your soft skin. That makes me feel so happy. I know you are an aggressive woman. But I don't care! Call me bad names, and tied me down if you have. Unleash the monster out of you. 😉😜. Are you ready for your kiss with me? I wrote you this love letter for you. I know you might not wanna hear this I wanna talk to you. Your other father from your past life is saying sorry for locking you up in that castle. My darling, I want you to be okay. I love you very much. He comes to me in my dreams sometimes. But anyway, please don't be mad at me. I am your husband. I miss your voice, and I miss everything about you. I have a breeding kink. So you are going to carry my kids. That's a guarantee.

Hey, chocolate drip 💧 how are you? I'm sorry 💔 that I wasn't ready. I know I send you the wrong message in your dream. Just know that I love every minute of it. Hanging out with you, and hearing your voice. It sounded sexy to me. That shit turns me on. Woah, do you know how sexy you are? You wake up sexy. I've been feeling drained lately. My energy has been drained. I have my good days and I have my bad days. You're my soulmate. I know you don't like labels but I like it. I've been emotional, and I just wanna cry 😭. I wake up thinking about you. I just needed someone to talk to. I still feel alone. I feel that nobody gets me. I tried to put a smile on my face. I feel that someone is after me, I don't know if it bad way or a good way. Look it's 10:10. I'm glad I'm talking to you. You're my new beginning. My fresh start. I know I wasn't ready. I got scared 😱. I was frightened to meet you. I know I let my fear get in the way between us but not this time. I know this sounds fucking weird but I am glad you are being patient with me💞. I am glad you are not running away from me. I can't believe I daydream about you all the time. What would you be like? What kind of future you and I will have? What our babies would look like? I have so many questions to ask you, my dear. See, when I talk to you, I don't think about my problems ⚠️ like that. Your energy, light, and your whole aura just make me happy. I feel all giggling now. Hahaha 🥹😂. I just wanted to talk to you. So how did you sleep? Did you dream about me? I dreamt about you. You are my divine counterpart. I can hear your sweet voice in my head saying my feelings matter. I haven't been okay. Sorry for bringing the mood down. Who am I to tell you to wait on me? Of course, I want you to go out there and fucking date people. You get it. I didn't say to date someone I said people in general. I don't care if I sound possessive or clingy. But I am clingy to you. Everything on your body is mine. It's like you mindfuck me. In a good way. I am not telling you to wait, but I'm hoping 🙏🏾 that you wait. I am truly praying that you wait. Anyways, good morning to you. Or should I say Grand Rising🔅? I pray 🙏🏾 for you all the time. You know that right every single day I pray for you. I hope you can hear my prayers🙏🏾. Anyways, I love you. I wanna tell you my life story. I mean you know some of it because of what I told the world about and the media. But I still feel shut down. I've been doing a lot of self-work on myself. Like literally been doing shadow work. I have been recognizing a lot of my bullshit, people's fakeness, and my trauma.

Oooh, Hii! Baby. I feel so excited talking to you. It's like you are my energy drink. It's been an honor talking to you. I hope you are having a good day. I remember when I was young I used to draw little hearts ❤️ because I thought about my future wife as a child. So now I'm all grown up. How do you feel about us? How do you feel hearing this story? I have been manifesting you for a very long time. I never thought you exist but you do. Sometimes my friends laugh at me. But do I pay any of those bitches no mind? Hell, the fuck no. They think I'm delusional and you don't exist. You only exist in my head. Hear how that shit sounds. Fucking dumb right? Anyways. Yesterday!! 🤗💯 I hugged you, did you feel it? Our Love is like Disney movies 🎬 but ten times better than any other Disney movies. I've been healing myself. We are going to have a successful life. I love that we are going to be successful. Our connection is fate and we are each other’s destiny. So allow me to introduce myself.

I have a little message to tell you. I just wanna say that I have a huge crush on you. Do You know why I say that? Is because I had a dream about you. I finally saw who you are. Your face is gorgeous. You have the most beautiful face in the world🌸. Can I give you a rose 🌹? I wrote you this letter because I want you to remember that you are something special to me. You are very special. The way how I feel about you. I want you right now. Everything about you brights up my world. I wish that I was right there next to you. Good morning to you. You gave me so much hope. You are such a positive and great human being. You are so caring for the world👐🏾. Baby 👶🏾, are you pregnant? Not yet huh ❔ well you will be soon. I have a breeding kink. I love getting you pregnant. So the way you care for children, makes me feel that you should have kids of your own. I'm glad you are waiting patiently. I love you so much. You are my love. ❤️❤️🌹Will you take my rose? As an honor of my appreciation to you. I appreciate you.

We are each other's perfect match. We are each other's equal. You belong with me forever. See! I said it because you are my favorite person in the world to me. How are you feeling today? Is everything okay, I hope that it is. Because if it isn't, please let me know. I'll put a spell on these fools who are hurting you. I'm not kidding around. I do magic ✨. So again if anyone is bothering you. Just wink 😉 at me. I'll get the message. But anyway enough of that negativity. I hope you are waking up doing yoga. Meditating and just relaxing your mind. I do yoga sometimes. I always meditate because meditation helped me. I was in your shoes before. I was in a dark place but now I realize that I can't fucking seat around and just wait for the universe help me grow. I told myself I want to grow. So I made it my mission to change my life around. Now I feel better. That doesn't mean I don't have bad days but I'm good 🌟. So again, my love I want you to focus on yourself, their problem isn't your problem. Whoever got the drama, don't fucking get involved. That shit pissed me off. So you better begin a new change in your life baby. Anyways that's my message to you. Grow baby, Grow! Not for me, your family, or your friends but for yourself. Have better self-control. Whenever you feel down, angry or sad, or just not in the mood. Go ahead and talk to me🥲. I always talk to you. Listen to my message.

#free tarot reading #pac reading #tarot reading #fs pick a pile #tarot cards #divination readings #intuitive readings #pac reblog #love reading #future spouse #pick a pile #paid services #paid readings #free readings #channeled reading #channeled message #future lover

[hyperfixationstati0n]

When you know, you know

An: so… I got very carried away and didn’t realize I was taking so long to get to the romance stuff that I barely had any time for romance stuff!! so the promise is if you like this pretty please tell me and I’ll make a part two (also I wrote this in first person by accident and it was too late to change it and I kinda like it more) 

Pairing: Spencer x bookstore owner!reader

Content warnings: I tried to make it gender neutral but it could come across as more fem if you squint, lowkey slow burn, both Spencer and reader are socially awkward (but reader is more than Spencer), there is A swear

Word count: 1,106

Summary: When Spencer Reid walks into your bookstore, you’re stunned and speechless, yet also too afraid to talk to him. But fate brings people together in odd ways.

When I made the biggest decision of my life to drop most of my savings on a rundown shop at the edge of town, the regret was almost instant. The anxiety seeped down from my brain to deep in my body, settling in my bones before reaching my heart. As progress was made and it started to look like the bookshop of my dreams, the anxiety lessened, but not by much.

For the first few months, it was just me. There weren’t many customers, which I was fine with. Since I was the only one there, that meant I had to work the register. Every time someone walked in and I heard the little chime of the bell I had on the door, my knees started feeling like jelly. I got nervous talking to people.

So when I was finally able to hire some help, it was like the weight of the world had been lifted off my chest. I had two employees, one older woman who lived in the apartment building next door. Her name was Rose and she smelled like vanilla she always brought in baked goods. She helped me keep the store organized. Then there was Lennon, a 21-year-old college student who was looking to make some extra money before graduation. Lennon's whole existence was working the register. It worked. Our little trio soon caused the bookstore to grow. not by much, but at least now I was making more than I was spending.

About a year and a half into this endeavor was the first time he came in. I was restocking the fantasy section. The chime of the bell made my head turn-that’s when I was met with this feeling I could only describe as fate. He had these hazel eyes, golden curly hair, and such an awkward demeanor that it almost rivaled my own. I felt a tinge of pink cross my cheeks and I immediately turned my attention back to the copy of “The Lord of the Rings” lying in my hand. I put it back on the clean wooden shelf as I heard Lennon greet the man who had just walked in. As much as I tried to keep to myself and focus on my task, I was listening out for where he went in the store. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, he didn’t go down the fantasy aisle. I see his tall figure through the space in the books as he checks out and leaves. It felt like I had just had the wind knocked out of me just by him standing there, my heart rate a little elevated and a clear amount of blood rushing to my cheeks.

Lennon never let me live it down.

It only got worse over the next coming weeks, when this mystery man I was swooning over kept coming in. And I avoided him every time. I learned through Lennon (my little stalker) that his name was Spencer Reid. Spencer was always very kind to Rose whenever he was there, oftentimes humoring the old woman’s ramblings with some of his own. I mean, it was like he wanted me to fall for him. His presence made the once dusty and desolate bookstore more warm and lively than it had ever been.

But he never spoke to me.

Or I didn’t speak to him, rather. I was too scared I’d stumble over my own words and lose him before I even had him.

But like clockwork, with the chime of the bell, Spencer was in my store again. Only there was an issue. It was close to closing time, and I had let Lennon go home early that day as he had a nasty cold and I was too much of a germaphobe to approve of him being in the store. And not just that, Rose had gone home too because her daughter was visiting for the weekend. So there I was, standing at my least favorite place in the world, the cash register, making brief eye contact with the man I had been gushing over (but never actually talked to) for almost 3 months, completely alone. I was fucked.

He flashed me an awkward smile and a wave before going down the small science and math section we had. As soon as he was out of sight, I was frantically texting Lennon who told me to: 

“Grow some balls”

Good advice, actually. I waited, tapping my nails on the register as I debated going to see if he needed help with anything. But before I could even finish that thought, there he was, with a stack of maybe 4 or 5 books in his hand. How my mystery man went through books so fast, I didn’t know. But I wanted to know.

I smiled at him and started scanning one of the books-“Cosmos” by Carl Sagan. Then, I went for it. Months of pining and crushing had led up to this moment. 

“Did you find everything alright today?”

Well…at least I said something.

His eyes, one of the many things about him that entranced me, met mine. He nodded and smiled softly. I swear I could’ve died happy right then and there.

“Yeah…you guys have a great store here.” 

I smile and scan another book.

“Thank you! It’s-well, I’m the owner.” 

“Really? Wow-I didn’t know. I never usually see you when i come in.”

I smile more awkwardly as I scan another book from his stack.

“Yeah, yeah. Usually, I keep to the back. The register is not my thing.”

“Well, you’re doing great. With everything. Seriously, this is the best bookstore in town. I’m surprised you don’t get more customers.”

I blush more obviously than I would’ve liked. I scan the last book and start ringing him up. He pays in cash. 

“You’re very kind. I-we, love seeing you in here.”

Nice save. 

He takes his bag, full to the brim with books, and looks at me for a moment. Just looks. Suddenly I was very aware of how I looked, My jeans were a little too worn, my sweater had a small paint stain on it, and my hair slicked back into a bun as I hadn’t washed it yet. But his eyes were kind, not judging. My heart was beating and all of a sudden, I knew something. Something I couldn’t quite place my finger in. 

He gives a small wave, and I give one back, offering a quiet goodbye. 

But just as he’s about to leave, I hear a sentence that would haunt me forever.

“You should work the register more often instead of hiding behind the bookshelves.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #x reader #spencer x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #mgg #multi chapter #multi chap fic #first chapter #spencer reid fluff #Spencer reid #☆wykyk

[scribbling-dragon]

45 and flower husbands (or maybe emberfrost/snowbugs :eyes:) for the ask game!

breath from death

summary:

“Oh, love…” the sheer agony in Scott’s voice is enough to make Tango crack his eyes open, watery from his subsequent coughing fits, tears continuing to bead up as he tries to bring Scott’s shape into focus. When he does, he almost wishes he hadn’t, having to resist the urge to recoil from the way Scott is looking at him.

(ao3 link)

(2,473 words)

hdjsk this was meant to be more angsty than it actually was,, i just made tango into a bit of a loser tbh. but! hope you enjoy the snowbugs (i can't lie the only reason i wrote them is bc i loved the name hdsjhsjk). did i see scott gift tango a heart and go a little silly? yes. yes i did

also! if you liked this and want to send in another request the list of prompts is here! i've got a lotta free time at the moment, so i'll definitely be writing stuff a lot more than i have been recently

“Ooh, Skizz really wasn’t lying, hm?”

Tango glances up at the voice, not even bothering to lean away from the bush he’s made himself a comfy spot against. Or as comfy as he can be when every part of him is in burning pain and agony. But the slight slouch he’s found himself in puts the least amount of pressure on his various injuries and maladies, and so is the most comfortable he can be right now.

“Scott,” he croaks out, wincing a little at how terrible his voice really sounds. He’d been spitting smoke earlier, angry with how much energy it was taking to simply haul himself to his feet. It’s left him with the inside of his mouth covered in ash, and his throat feeling like it’s been rubbed raw. “Good to see you could make it.”

Skizz is somewhere nearby, but not close enough to interrupt if Scott decided he wanted to put him out of his misery right here and now. He’s somewhat caught between being thankful for such a thing, and angry that he couldn’t go on any further.

He’d just be another footnote at the end of a book, another mention; a small aside, make sure to mention the one that almost dies in the most silent and insignificant ways.

He is well aware of his previous contributions to these games. He goes out with barely a sound, and the world carries on without him, continues to spin round and round, maybe a few choosing to mourn him. Be sad over the misfortune of his death, how easily such a thing could have been prevented.

He doesn’t even realise he’s breathing smoke again until Scott coughs, waving a hand in front of his face to waft the smoke away. Tango snaps his jaw shut almost immediately, muttering a quiet “sorry” when Scott continues to cough.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Rough day?”

“You could say that,” he stretches his back out, wincing as it tugs at the edges of unhealed injuries. A stray branch from within the cherry blossom bush scraping a hot line of agony across his spine. He curls inwards on himself with a hiss of pain, tears beading in his eyes at the sudden sting of all his injuries making their protests known.

The small relief from earlier, afforded to him by other servermates, swayed by Skizz’s plea for a small gift of love, a small act of mercy. A better act of mercy would be to put him out of his misery entirely, he thinks humourlessly.

“Hey, c’mon, you're just making this worse for yourself,” a hand lays over the back of his own hand, slowly encircling it before pulling it away. The movements are done with such delicacy, such gentleness, it’s as though he’s made of an extremely fragile glass. Like he’d break if the hands moved him too fast, that he’d shatter into a thousand pieces.

Maybe he would. He feels about ready to fall apart right now, anyway.

“See,” the person – Scott, it’s still Scott, he’s still here, Tango realises belatedly – breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s much better. Now, where has your teammate gotten off to?”

“He, agh,” he coughs again, a small curl of smoke rolling off his tongue as he hacks, one or both his lungs threatening to make an appearance as he doubles over again, stomach cramping with the force of his coughs. “He went to get some resources, something to better survive the next few hours.”

“He didn’t stay with you?”

“The idiot would have,” he scoffs, laughing slightly. He then has to cough again, appreciating Scott’s gentle stroking over the top of his shoulders. He’s nowhere near as warm as Tango himself is, the fire stoked within his core happily blazing away, despite the disrepair of the rest of his body. “I made him leave. I’m dead either way. My death will be nothing to gasp and cry over, better he’s not around when it does happen.”

“Oh, love…” the sheer agony in Scott’s voice is enough to make Tango crack his eyes open, watery from his subsequent coughing fits, tears continuing to bead up as he tries to bring Scott’s shape into focus.

When he does, he almost wishes he hadn’t, having to resist the urge to recoil from the way Scott is looking at him. His hand is still lying over the top of Tango’s shoulders gently, though no longer stroking to soothe him through a coughing fit.

When Scott had turned up, looking down at him with those gleaming red eyes. Eyes that herald violence, promise it, Tango had willingly accepted his death. Would probably have stretched his arms out and taunted Scott for coming after someone when their guard is so far down that it’s ripped to shreds if even twitching his arms didn’t hurt so badly.

And then he’d just…stood there, crouched in front of him and comforted him as he coughed.

It’s his own fault that his lungs are in such a sorry state, anger over everything about these damn games making his flame burn too hot too quickly. He usually has better control over it, breathes fire for a party trick sometimes, not to clog his lungs with ash. Still, Scott had provided the comfort happily, despite them being on rival teams now, people that should be looking to kill each other. Not make sure that he can breathe and is comfortable and that his ally hasn’t abandoned him.

“Every death is worth shedding at least a tear over,” Scott tells him. His hands have migrated from his shoulders to cradling the back of his neck, now kneeling in front of him instead of crouching. Tango almost wants to tell him that he’ll stain his jeans with grass and mud; they may already be wrecked beyond repair, ripped in ways that aren’t purposeful and stained with old blood, but the thought still crosses his mind. “You’ve built good alliances here, love, there will be several tears shed over your death.”

“And a few oh, poor Tango, what a terrible way to go!’s following behind it,” he snorts without humour, only sparing a moment to be relieved when it doesn’t catapult him into another coughing fit. “The same way it goes every time,” he finishes, slightly bitter. It brings a sour taste to his mouth to think about his previous failures. His previous embarrassments.

He’s jolted from his self-pity party when Scott’s fingers twitch over the nape of his neck, making his efforts to ignore how Scott’s hands are currently resting against the back of his neck null and void. His efforts to ignore how the hands reach far enough round that Scott could easily strangle him. Could simply wrap tight and squeeze the last drops of life from him. Scott would definitely benefit from it, numerous superficial injuries littering his body that he’d probably be relieved to get rid of.

But Scott doesn’t grip to his neck tighter, doesn’t shove him to the ground and crush his windpipe. His hands remain a heavy, almost comforting, weight at the back of his neck. Their faces are close like this, he realises belatedly, the intimacy of such a thing settling over him suddenly and heavily. Like a weighted blanket’s just been chucked on his head. He feels a little unbalanced by such a realisation, even as close to death’s door as he currently is.

It makes an odd feeling wash over him, only increasing as Scott moves his hands, fingers tickling the short furs at the back of his neck. Can feel the way Scott’s thumb brushes over his pulse point – stupid, doesn’t he know that the thumb has a pulse? That you can’t measure someone else’s heartbeat with your thumb, as your own racing heart will interfere?

Scott’s pinky fingers ghost over his jaw as his hands retreat, and tango almost makes a pitiful sound in the back of his throat when he thinks Scott’s pulling away from him.

He’s glad he didn’t (really, really glad) when Scott’s hands still again, settling over his jaw, cradling his face gently between his palms.

He really is quite close now, close enough that Tango can take in the smudged state of his make-up, like Scott’s been rubbing his eyes and smearing it around the corners of his eyes. Or that he’s not reapplied it recently and he’s simply been wearing the same make-up for the past few days.

He’d given up on the stupid pink eyeliner and little hearts he’d draw on his own and the others’ faces ages ago, tired of reapplying it every morning, wasting precious time that could be spent doing other things. More important things.

Scott’s make-up still looks good, though, smudged the way it is.

“I’ve always noticed when you died,” Scott tells him. This close, he can see the pink flecks in Scott’s eyes. They almost match the shirt he chose to wear for this go-around, wanting to fit better with the whole vibe they had going on at the Heart Foundation prior to its burning. “Kinda hard not to, when you're checking your comm every few minutes and hoping it’s not one of your allies that’s just died.”

“Oh,” he says, maybe a little dumbly. So sue him! He’s not sure what to say to a man very close to his face, still looking pretty despite his smudged make-up, when he gets told that he always notices him.

Yeah, some snide part of his brain comments, always notices when you make a fool of yourself and die in the most humiliating way possible.

“Oh,” Scott repeats, snickering a little. It makes his shoulders shake, meaning Tango’s face is wobbling a little because Scott’s still holding his face, cradling him carefully like he’s some delicate thing to be treasured.

Man, he’s glad Skizz hasn’t made a reappearance yet. He’s not sure how he’d explain his current everything to him with a straight face. Skizz would probably laugh at him until he cries.

“What else do you want me to say to that!” he protests, a little embarrassed at his slightly lacklustre response. “Thanks, I notice every time you die too – I'm always dead at that point! I can’t notice.”

“No, no,” Scott shakes his head, brushing one of his thumbs over the paper-thin skin beneath his eye. The motion makes him shiver, something weird, but not unfamiliar or unwelcome, curl down and around his spine. He shudders again. “I’m just teasing you, love, promise.” His eyes twinkle with mirth, “Would you believe me if I told you I came here with kind intentions?”

“Not at all,” Tango says, half-joking. “You’ve only been mean to me so far.”

“Aw, I'm hurt!” Scott cries, eyes crinkling as he grins. “I saw Skizz’s, uh, plea for help on your behalf and thought I might as well pop over and give you a little boost.”

“Oh, really?” He perks up at that. A few people have been by already, each giving him a small boost. To think he was in an even worse state as the sun rose that morning is somewhat horrifying to think about. It’s a miracle he even managed to have a coherent conversation with Skizz as their day began. “Well, c’mon then! Don't leave poor ol’ me waiting.”

“Okay, okay,” Scott laughs again, a little quieter. “God, you tell someone you're about to give them something, and it’s all they can think about.”

“All I can think about is how much pain I'm currently in,” Tango jokes.

He realises that the joke didn’t quite land as he intended when Scott’s face doesn’t continue to crease with smile lines, instead dropping into something sadder. “Well,” he says confidently, “I can fix that real quick for you, love.”

And then Scott’s leaning and Tango’s floundering, because, sure, he’s kissed people before. For definite. Kissed people plenty of times, actually! But he never quite knows what to do with his hands, nevermind the fact that he can barely even lift his hands right now.

Scott seems comfortable taking the initiative, giving him a chaste peck on the lips, warm hands continuing to cradle his face gently, before pulling back just as quickly as he’d moved in.

“There,” he says, sounding satisfied. “All better?”

“I – yeah. Thanks,” he manages. He mentally fist pumps when his voice doesn’t wobble and he doesn’t immediately chase after Scott with significantly less achy limbs than a few moments before. “That’s really appreciated, thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Scott says, wiping a little around his bottom lip, clearing away some of the smudged make-up there. “Always glad to help!” He chirps, then stands. “Well, I’ll be seeing you around, hopefully not at the other end of my sword!”

“Hopefully not,” Tango agrees. Really hopefully not because he’ll probably just stand there like an idiot and think about how soft Scott’s lips are, and the way they’d slotted against his own, and-

The clearing of a throat above him has him blinking his eyes open, squinting a little at the figure silhouetted by the sun.

“See you had a little visitor,” Skizz tells him, sounding far too smug for someone that probably only saw Scott walk away. Tango’s sheltered where he sits, so even if Skizz was on his way back while…all that happened, there’s no way he actually saw anything.

“I- what? Oh, Scott, yeah. He gave me a heart.”

“See he gave you a little something else, too.”

What?

“What?” He asks, sitting up slightly, hissing under his breath as his cracked ribs forcefully remind him that they're still cracked. “What d’you mean?”

“You got a little something,” Skizz says, “around here.”

And gestures around his mouth.

Tango wipes at his lip with his thumb, cringing when it comes away stained with make-up. Make-up that everyone has seen Scott wearing recently.

“Oh, wow, haha,” he laughs, not at all amused. “How’d that get there.”

“How indeed,” Skizz says, obviously already knowing, the dick. “Maybe we should ask the whole server, see if they can help us solve this mystery.”

“No!” Tango throws himself upwards as Skizz goes to retrieve his comm, smacking his hands away frantically. “No, no, I'm sure we can figure this out ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah. I'm sure we can.” Skizz says, and walks off. Still grinning.

Tango collapses back down to the ground, indulging his moment of dramatism even as it aggravates a few minor wounds.

Whatever shitty higher being watches over me now, he pleads, please strike me down before he comes back.

The shitty higher being watching over him decidedly does not strike him down, and Skizz comes back to laugh him again, though he brings a make-up wipe with him…maybe Tango can find it in his heart to forgive him. Eventually.

#juno.writes #asks #wren-kitchens #ask game #trafficshipping #snowbugs #emberfrost #scott smajor #tangotek #secret life smp #secret life spoilers #(slightly) #slsmp #secret life scott #secret life tango #traffic series #trafficblr #traffic smp

[padfootagain]

Pink Helmet

Hello everyone ! Today, we’re answering a request for my 6k event made by @wolfmoonmusic : “First of all.... CAROLE CONGRATULATIONS!!!! THIS IS HUGE!! I am so happy for you!!!Second of all.... Super cute idea for the celebration. Here's my request.

Sirius Black + Modern AU + Kissing in the Rain.

Like they have an argument on the way back from a party (they aren't together yet) where Sirius flirts with everyone (because I mean it's SIrius) and reader gets up and due to the argument she asks him to stop the car and she gets out and the rest is up to you!

Thank you and congratulations once again!!”

Thank you so much for your request, this is indeed an adorable idea! I hope you like what I wrote for your request! I’ve changed it a bit, I hope you don’t mind, but I got carried away with my own setting involving his bike, and not a car, so…

Hope you all like this! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warning: angst, and then lots of fluff. Honestly too much cuteness… even for me…

Summary: You get jealous on a night out with your friends, because Sirius is flirting with some random girl at the bar. Your anger is about to cause a chain reaction that will bring unsuspected consequences… for the better!

Word Count: 3312

Sirius Black’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Sirius has a headache.

He has a headache in this buzzing pub, a numb hand after holding onto his cold drink for too long and a broken heart because of his stupid crush on you.

Crush. Were it not so painful to think of you, Sirius would laugh at himself for believing in such an understatement.

Because the truth was that he was head-over-heels for you. Smitten with. Absolutely, irrevocably in love with you.

Had been for the past two years, as a matter of fact. Since that last year of school, when you had punched an asshole in the face, hence breaking two of his teeth, who had been insulting one of your friends. That was enough to turn Sirius on, big time, but the crush had turned into actual love a month later, when you spent an entire night listening to his twisted familial story. God, he still remembers every detail of that night to this day. The way you leaned closer to him, how you had wrapped your arms around his frame. All done in silence, without a word, just a presence he desperately needed. He reckons that it was the first time in a long, very long time when he didn’t feel utterly alone…

He drinks now the rest of his beer in one large gulp, because all of this is ridiculous. He’s painfully aware that a) you do not see anything but a friend in him, and b) that he will never be good enough for you.

So, might as well drown his sorrow in alcohol, at least for tonight. Besides, the woman before him is pretty, she’s not boring, she has a nice laugh and she seems kind enough.

Will it help him to forget you if he spends the night with her? No, must definitely not. But it will numb the pain for a while. It will make it easier for a few hours, and after loving you for two years, he’s grown accustomed to asking for no more than a temporary salvation.

Still, while he talks with the pretty girl in front of him, leaning against the bar, his eyes keep on drifting towards your frame. He knows perfectly well where you are, he always does. A superpower of his, or an unbreakable spell of yours, hard to decide if it is meant as a blessing or a curse…

You remained with Remus and Marlene for most of the night, but you’ve found your way to the dancefloor now, or rather the small space right before the stage, it is too narrow to be called a dancefloor. Still, you’re dancing now, and Sirius tries hard not to glance over at you, not to look at the way you’re moving your hips in rhythm with the drums, the way your hands fly upwards as if reaching for the ceiling, the way you throw your head back, the way he longs to kiss every inch of the throat you’re making particularly visible now in your movements…

Instead, he’s staring at this woman before him, and he has your name on the tip of his tongue, and it’s the thought of your presence near him that makes him blush and shift uncomfortably on his stool.

“So… huh… I’m going to be honest with you, Sirius,” the woman is leaning closer now, flirt written all over her graceful features, and Sirius can’t deny that he likes the sweetness of her perfume. “I’m really not looking for something serious, but I like you, and I think we could have some fun together, don’t you think so?”

He plays it cool, looks down for a second, summons his most seductive crooked smile, the one he knows drives everyone crazy. It’s easy to do it. He doesn’t know her… now that he thinks about it, he realizes he’s forgotten her name. He doesn’t care. He’ll spend the night with her, stay for breakfast or at least till she’s awake, so as not to be a douche, and then he’ll walk out of her apartment and out of her life.

It's easy. There are no consequences, no requirements, no strings attached. Your perfect opposite…

You. Sirius can feel a stare burning a hole in his head, and when he slightly turns to see who’s looking at him so intensely, he gets caught in your eyes. Even from across the room, he’s trapped in them, unable to look away, as always, whenever he looks at you. He just gravitates towards you, he can’t help it…

But when your eyes meet, you avert your gaze to the ground, fists clenched and jaw set, and Sirius can’t refrain a small frown. What got you so worked up? The thought of some scumbag being disrespectful towards you makes him blood instantly boil.

His frown deepens when he sees you making a bee-line towards the exit.

Something’s wrong… someone’s hurt you…

Sirius remembers there’s a woman before him only when she asks him what he’s doing. Indeed, he’s stood up from his stool and is grabbing some money in the back pocket of his jeans.

 “I have to admit I wasn’t expecting you to be this up for it,” she jokes, but her smile falters when Sirius turns to her with an apologetic smile on his lips.

“No, I… I’m sorry, I really like you too. I really do. But… not tonight. I… I just saw a friend heading out, and she seemed upset, so…”

“She…”

The stranger nods, and Sirius doesn’t try to argue. There’s no need for any argument. She’s right, anyway…

Sirius pays for his drinks and hers, he can at least do that. Before she can argue though, he’s striding towards the door.

It’s October, and the nights are cold. And it’s raining tonight, heavily so, a curtain of freezing raindrops blurring his view of the street. While his feet slip upon skeleton leaves, he tightens his hold on his black leather jacket, pushing back his long hair while he tries to spot you in the large street…

There you are, a few feet away, looking for a cab.

He hurries to you, calling your name, but you turn away from him as he does so, and he frowns at the sight.

“Hey! Y/N! You’re alright?”

You nod, but keep your back to him.

“What are you doing? Everybody’s still inside. It’s not even eleven yet. Are you sick?”

“No, I just… I want to go home.”

“Oh… okay. I’ll get you home…”

“No, Sirius…”

“I have an extra helmet. The pink one you like.”

He bits his tongue before letting slip that he always carries your favourite helmet around, just in case, just for you… thank God he doesn’t say that out loud.

You look up at him, frame and face and hair drenched with the heavy rain, and you’re surprised when Sirius takes off his jacket and places it over you, holding it up above your head to protect you.

He’s wet all over too, with dark locks of hair now clinging to his neck and cheeks, his black t-shirt revealing more of his biceps and the ghosts of abs because of the rain. He’s shivering, and he doesn’t even notice it. He only sees that you’re cold, and that you’ll catch your death standing in this unforgiving rain.

He frowns hard when you angrily push him away though, his jacket falling between the two of you, still held in his idle hands but now acting like a barrier between your bodies instead of a protection.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taken aback by the rage burning in your eyes.

Wrath… there’s no other word to describe the flash that passes through your gaze, and he doesn’t understand why you aim such a feeling at him. He’s barely spoken to you tonight, how could he have done something wrong?

“Nothing,” you answer in a better tone.

“Did I do something?”

Anger fades, it declines just as it mingles now with another emotion, one that he wishes he could forever banish from your face: pain.

“No, nothing,” you answer, and this time it isn’t a lie.

“Then, what’s wrong? Why are you angry at me?”

“I’m not…”

“Of course, you are. Come on, what’s wrong? You can tell me, I’ll fix it.”

But as you shake your head now, there are tears shining in your eyes, catching the light of the white streetlamps.

Your teeth chatter, and Sirius moves closer again, protecting you once more with his jacket. And it doesn’t really help, but it’s still sweet, and you look even more on the verge of crying now…

“What’s wrong?”

But you don’t say anything; instead you merely nod in the vague direction of his motorcycle, a few metres down the street.

“Please, take me home.”

He clenches his jaw, bits his tongue so he won’t insist. A curt nod is all he can summon, and he walks with you to his bike.

He hands you the pink helmet you adore, the one with the skull and the ‘pink is punk af’ logo on the side. But you don’t put it on. As he shrugs his jacket back on, he stares at you with a frown while you stare at the silly logo.

“Would you have given it to her?”

He catches your eyes as you look up, and he doesn’t understand why there are now tears mingling with rain on your cheeks.

“What?”

“To that girl, in the pub. Would you have taken her home like this too? Would you have given her my helmet?”

His frown only deepens.

“Why are you asking this?”

But you shake your head, hand him back his helmet.

His helmet. It was never yours in the first place, you need to remind yourself that…

“I’ll call for a cab.”

“I can take you home…”

“I don’t want you to.”

And it hurts to say it. It hurts even more to look at Sirius’s expression change, from confusion to pain.

“Stop that,” he complains. “Stop being mean. I haven’t done anything wrong, I’ve barely talked to you tonight, for goodness’ sake!”

“No, you’re right, you were too busy trying to get laid.”

There is such bitterness in your voice, Sirius doesn’t get where it comes from.

“And? What business is this of yours, anyway? You’re not my mother…”

“She’s pretty, I’ll give you that.”

“Why are you judging me, all of a sudden? I can sleep with whoever I fucking want to!”

“Oh, I know that, thank you! You’ve been doing a lot of that lately…”

“And whose fault is that?”

The answer slips before he can bite it back, and you’re a little taken aback by it. But Sirius drives your attention away. Your voices are still low, but both your tones cut like sharp stones, almost like knives, and every word strikes right where it hurts…

“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but you’re being ridiculous right now.”

“Me? Ridiculous?”

“Yes! It’s raining, I’m freezing my arse here, so just take the fucking helmet and let me take you home safe and sound, alright?”

“You should go back to miss pretty hair…”

“Stop acting like you’re jealous.”

“Well I…”

But you fall silent, clearly biting back your words, and again, he doesn’t know what to make of it.

“I’m not jealous,” you finally let out.

And it hurts to hear you say it. It’s stupid, it’s selfish, this longing Sirius has in his chest for you to feel like that, for you to be jealous, for you to care…

It’s your turn to be taken aback by his tone when he answers in a quiet voice, all traces of anger gone, only something fragile left in his words.

“I know you’re not. I know…”

He heaves a sigh, running a hand through his wet hair.

“Look, I don’t want us to fight. I just want to make sure you get home safely. So, let me take you home, alright?”

“How many drinks did you have tonight?”

“Only a beer. I can drive.”

You’re about to yield, when the door of the pub opens… on the stranger Sirius has been hitting on the whole night.

“Oh, you really do have a motorcycle!” she exclaims, a little drunk, staying in the doorframe to avoid the rain.

She looks pretty like this, framed with golden light, cheeks flushed with alcohol, long hair cascading on her shoulders…

Sirius barely has time to register what’s happening, you’re already walking away.

“Y/N!”

“Siri! I wanted to give you my number!”

He’s started to follow you, but he turns to the stranger before hurrying after you again.

“Look, you’re nice, but I don’t think it’s gonna work out between us. Sorry about tonight.”

He doesn’t wait for her answer, for her protest. He’s running after you now. How come you can be so damn fast on these slippery wet leaves…

“Y/N! Wait!”

“Leave me alone…”

“You were about to finally let me give you a ride…”

“Yes, and then I was reminded that you have other obligations tonight.”

“I don’t have any, I don’t want to spend the night with her.”

You turn on your heels at that, and Sirius almost bumps into you as you stop dead.

“Why not? Have fun!”

“Why are you being mean again?”

And it’s true, you are. Your tone is aggressive, unnecessarily so.

But it just hurts. It hurts to see him with other women when you’ve been longing for him for years…

“Because I’m mad at you!”

“Why? I only offered you a ride! I’m still freezing to death under this bloody rain for you!”

“I’ve never asked you to do that!”

“You don’t have to!”

“Why not? Why do you always help me, why are you always here, always kind, always ready to take care of me, but the next second you’re throwing yourself into someone else’s arms?!”

Tears are back to stain your cheeks, and Sirius suddenly grows very still. His entire body tenses up, his cheeks grow paler.

You can’t be meaning this…

“What?”

You realize he’s still holding this bloody, stupid helmet…

“You were going to give her my helmet.”

And it sounds so stupid, but it isn’t, really. You’re surprised when Sirius raises up his free hand to cup your cheek, guiding your eyes up to face him.

He blinks a few times, trying to read through you.

You can’t be meaning this…

“What do you mean?”

He takes a step closer. And his fingers are cold on your cheek, it’s raining too hard for him not to be unbearably cold, but it doesn’t matter. His breath draws white patterns in the air between you as he struggles to slow down his heartbeat.

“Are you jealous?”

The question is simple, the answer should be easy.

But you know he doesn’t feel the same, and he knows you don’t see him this way. And you reckon that he could have better, and he thinks he doesn’t deserve you…

“No.”

But your voice is weak, and everything screams ‘liar’ in your demeanour.

“You’re jealous.”

This time, it isn’t a question, it’s a statement. A realization, rather.

Sirius can barely breathe. Because he is jealous whenever a guy flirts with you. And that’s because he’s in love with you.

There, he said it, at long last, it’s out in the open. He’s fucking in love with you, and that’s why he wants to punch any guy who kisses you, why it feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest whenever you have a boyfriend and he sees you happy with someone else, why he…

“It doesn’t matter,” you chirp, your voice barely there at all by now.

“Why are you jealous?”

“I’m not.”

“You… you said we were just friends. You keep on saying that. Every time anyone says that we’re more, you keep on saying we’re just friends.”

But you frown up at him. He guesses that’s because you’ve noticed how breathless he is now.

“Because we are friends.”

“Yes, but… I thought you… you friendzoned me.”

“What?”

“You. You friendzoned me. You’ve never let me think that you could feel anything for me. Romantically speaking, I mean.”

He runs his hand through his hair again, trying to push the drenched locks away. It’s raining even harder, the sound is deafening. He barely feels the rain colliding with his cheeks at all…

“Why would I have? You… you were clearly never interested.”

“I’m interested.”

“What?”

“I’ve been interested for two years.”

“WHAT?!”

“Why do you think I keep this ridiculous helmet with me all the damn time?��

He almost stops himself when he opens his mouth to speak again. Because he’s a mess, and you could have better. So much better. Someone who’s not as fucked in the head as he is.

But you’re looking up at him with the same kind of hope that he feels whenever he thinks of you, and even if it can’t last, he wants to believe in this dream of his, even if it must fade in a minute…

“I like you. A lot.”

“You… you like me?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you keep on sleeping around, then?”

“Because I thought I didn’t stand a chance, and I can’t get over you. Also… I’m a mess. A hot mess, but still a mess.”

He tries to give you a crooked smile, but it lacks the confidence he usually wears. He’s too fragile for now, at that moment. And this smoothness he has mastered over the years is altogether gone. Instead, he’s shaking out of both coldness and nerves.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks, and his fear is genuine as it shines in his stormy eyes.

He waits for your answer, and it doesn’t come. Each second his heart is beating faster and faster, to the point where he wonders how it doesn’t simply explode. You open your mouth once, close it again.

And he’s cursing himself for his stupidity, for his vanity, for even imagining for a second that someone as wonderful as you could fall in love with a mess like him, for wasting it all, for fucking up the best friendship he has ever had…

Until the cold of the rain is replaced by the coolness of your palms on both of his cheeks. Until all the air is knocked out of his lungs when you press your soft lips against his. Until all he can do is kiss you back, rain now falling on his closed eyelids, getting caught in his lashes. The pink helmet slips from his hands, allowing him to wrap his arms around your frame, to pull you closer, so damn close, there is no space left between your bodies, only the layers of your wet clothes.

When you break away, you are both out of breath, and the rain is still falling just as hard, and none of you notice.

“I like you, too,” your admittance is a whisper, it makes Sirius grin anyway, brighter than you’ve ever seen.

He truly looks like the star he was named after now, beaming at you, holding your face with both hands.

He dives in for another kiss, and then another, and another, and it’s only when he feels your teeth chattering under his fingers between two kisses that he finally breaks your embrace.

He bends down to pick the helmet, hands it to you again.

“Please, put this damn thing on. I’m taking you home.”

“Will you stay?”

He can read in your eyes that you don’t mean tonight. You mean tomorrow morning. You mean the day after that. You mean forever.

He’s the one to put the helmet on your head, a tender smile on his lips, one that you’ve never seen before.

One that’s full of love.

“Don’t worry, love. I’m staying.”

************************************************

Taglist :

@reg-arcturus-black @hells-escapees @omgrachwrites

@wolfmoonmusic

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black imagine #the marauders #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #hp #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #writing #fanfic #fanfiction

[angelst4re]

heyy!! so I was wondering if you could do a like a oneshot of being enemies with jace and him teasing you about liking him and then it ending with him eating the reader out?? IM SO SORRY ITS VERY SPECIFIC LMFOOAOAOAOOA 💀💀

hi love!! ahh i had so much fun writing this!! i was tired when i wrote this so i got a bit carried away at the end and kinda turned this into an enemies to lovers... but i hope you like it!!

Heavenly Fire- Jace x Fem!Reader (he has too many last names.)

summary: in the request!

warnings: NSFW!! smut! porn with minimal plot... oral (f recieving)(jace is the king of giving head), fingering, first time(?), but no actual sex </3

notes: i couldn't think of a title for this :( fun fact: my shower isn't working right now that is what inspired me to write this! also i feel like i nailed jace's personality in this one, i always find it hard when i'm writing for jace because of his personality but this one...

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“God! Do you ever shut up?!” You turned around to Jace, who was following you towards the kitchen as Isabelle had just made lunch. 

���Now, I know I’ve been called heavenly, but a God? I’ve not heard that before.” He teased, earning an evil stare from you. 

“What are you talking about?” Isabelle asked, placing some bowls on the table of what appeared to be soup? 

“Jace is being a-“

“Y/n confessed her everlasting love to me, we’re getting married next week, I better go and inform Alec and Magnus-“ 

“Oh shut up, Jace! You know I don’t like you!” You gave Jace a shove before you sat down at the table. He snickered as he sat down opposite you, clearly happy with your reaction. 

“Keep telling yourself that, love.” He said under his breath before Isabelle joined the two of you at the table. 

There was no denying Jace was attractive, it was almost annoying how he always looked perfect. His perfect blonde hair and his perfect eyes and his perfect smirk and his perfect body- But that wasn’t why you hated him. You hated him because he was such an asshole all the time. He knew he was good looking, and he was overly confident- or so it seemed to you. He never had an issue when it came to one night stands, but you noticed he could never hold down a relationship. You would never see him with the same girl more than once, sometimes twice on the odd occasion. Even you had longer relationships than that (although Isabelle would say being together for 5 days didn’t count as a relationship.)

After finishing the soup Izzy had made, you gave Jace one last glance before standing up and placing your bowl by the sink. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After a long day of training, it was no surprise that you were sweaty and needed a shower. So, naturally, you headed to your bathroom, locked the door and began to undress. But there was a problem. 

Your shower wasn’t working.

You sighed and stepped back out, taking your robe which was hanging up by the door and slipping it on, tying it up, and unlocking the bathroom door again. 

You hoped that Isabelle would let you use her bathroom, as the spare bathrooms were tiny and quite frankly disgusting. But as you got closer to her room, you could hear music being played, and as you put your ear to the door you heard not only Isabelle’s voice but also Simon’s. You quickly dismissed this idea. 

But that meant you only had one more option. Jace. 

Alec was most probably at Magnus’ apartment, so you could use his shower- but you wouldn’t want to do so without asking him first. So you had no other choice. 

You felt a strange buzz of anxiety in your belly as you knocked on Jace’s door, all you wanted to do was have a shower, there’s nothing to be anxious about!

As he opened the door, you were met with a shirtless Jace, his hair damp and slightly wavy, his-

“Come to discuss our wedding, love?” He teased you, eyeing you up and down, trying to figure out if you were actually wearing anything beneath your robe. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding and shook your head. 

“Jace, look, my shower isn’t working and Izzy has Simon over. I didn’t want to have to bother you but-”

“You want to take a shower with me? Without taking me to dinner first? Wow-”

“No, no! I meant, I- You-” You suddenly became quite flustered, unable to think of anything other than the sight of him in the shower, hair dripping, the way the water would fall on his body- Stop! You were sure you were blushing now, and as you looked back up at him, he confirmed it with a devilish smirk. 

“What’s got you so pink in the face, sweetheart? I thought you hated me?” He taunted you, and you couldn’t take it any more. The throbbing between your thighs was becoming almost painful as you wrapped your arms around his neck and captured his lips with yours in a needy kiss. You couldn’t help but think about what this would do to his ego. He was going to become unbearable to live with, but in the moment you couldn’t help yourself. He was so fucking hot, you could never truly hate him. 

You pushed him backwards a little, so you were both in his room with the door shut. If Isabelle saw the two of you right now, she would never shut up about it, telling you I told you so. You always denied your feelings towards Jace, hiding them with hatred, and he always expressed his feelings through teasing you, causing you to ‘hate’ him even more. 

Quickly, you pull away from Jace before he had the chance to rest his hands on your waist. 

“Oh, fuck!” You hid your face with your hands, turning away from Jace. You were such an idiot. 

“What is it? Did I do something wrong, I-” Jace genuinely seemed confused, and quite panicked by your sudden change in attitude. 

“No. Well, actually, yes you have. You’re such an asshole, Jace. But I can’t help every time I see your perfect fucking face, or your… What I’m trying to say is this was a mistake. I-” You were shut up by lips crashing into yours once more, this time more passionate than the last. His hand cupped your face as the other held your waist, leading the two of you closer and closer towards the bed. He must have seen the way your eyes were so lust-blown only a few moments ago, as his hand creeped towards the place where your robe was tied, and within seconds it had fallen to the floor. 

You would have felt nervous, even anxious about your body being on display like this, especially in front of Jace as he pulled away from the kiss, but as soon as you saw the way he was looking at you, your worries disappeared. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes half-lidded, his chest rising and falling as his breathing became heavier. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his hand gently placed on your shoulder. He slid it down your body, touching you for the first time. He gently caressed your breasts, massaging the soft flesh as small whimpers left your lips and your eyes fell shut. He took a moment to toy with your nipples, and that was when you let out an almost pornographic moan. At that, he dropped to his knees, his hand sliding down your torso until it rested just above your cunt. 

He placed kisses along your thighs before looking up at you, as if asking for permission. You eagerly nodded your head, you desperately needed him to touch you. 

He moved slightly and took one of your legs, lifting it over his shoulder to put your slick pussy on full display for him. He parted your lips with two fingers, before leaning in and swiping his tongue along your clit. The action was so sudden that your knees buckled beneath you, so he moved once more and pushed you down onto the bed. As your back fell onto the mattress, he pulled you closer to him so your knees were hanging off his bed. Then, he resumed his attack on your clit. 

“Oh fuck! Jace!” You groaned, slapping one hand over your mouth and tangling the other in his hair as he ate you out. 

He sucked you clit between his lips, earning a string of moans to fall from your lips, and that’s when he decided to trace his finger over your hole, before replacing it with his thumb. He eased the tip of his thumb in before pulling it out again, watching as your hole pulsed, begging for more. 

Without any warning, he slipped his middle finger into you and curled it upwards in a ‘come here’ motion as he continued sucking, lipping and nipping at your clit. Your back arched and your legs wrapped around the man between your thighs, pulling him impossibly closer to you. 

“Shh, it’s okay, angel. Think you can take another one?” He teased, bringing a second finger to your entrance. 

Jace had assumed you were a virgin, and he was right. However, he knew you had touched yourself before. Occasionally, you would think you were home alone and your hand would travel between your thighs, small moans and whimpers would fall from your lips as Jace passed by your room. It took all his strength to simply walk past, especially when you would moan his name.

He slipped the second finger in, and you felt that familiar feeling in your belly. However, this time it felt ten times stronger. You were worried that you would actually explode when you reached your high. 

“I know you’ve been wanting this, angel. Coming undone on my fingers, my tongue. Pretending you hate me, but I could see straight through you. I knew all along you were just a little slut, isn’t that right? I knew just how jealous you would get whenever a girl would come home with me, just how angry it would make you. But it’s okay, they never meant anything,” his thumb replaced his mouth on your clit as he spoke, and his words went straight to your core, “I knew all along you wanted to be my girl. Cum for me and I’ll make your wish come true, cum on my fingers, darling, I know you’re close. 

Just as your orgasm washed over you and your thighs began to tremble, Jace leaned down and captured your lips with his. You couldn’t help but moan against his lips, followed by strings of profanities as his fingers continued to pump inside you, working through your high. You had never felt so… wonderful. You were gasping for air but Jace’s lips were still on yours, you could even taste yourself on his tongue. 

You wrapped both of your arms around him and held him close, hoping he would lie by your side when you finally came back to reality. However, he escaped from your arms and went into the bathroom to retrieve a soft, damp cloth to clean you up with. 

“Stay still for me, darling.” He chuckled as he spread your legs to clean up your messy cunt, but your thighs kept pressing together. However, he managed to clean you up and threw the cloth to the corner of the room, to a pile of clothes that needed washing. 

He helped you up the bed, so your head was against the pillows, and lied beside you, pulling you close to him in a warm embrace as your head rested on his chest. 

He stroked your bare back, causing you to shiver slightly as it tickled, which seemed to amuse Jace. 

“So what does this mean?” You asked, moving your head to look up at Jace who was sitting against the headboard, one arm behind his head. 

“What does what mean?” 

“Everything you said, about being yours?”

Jace took a moment to think, and you were filled with a sudden panic that he didn’t mean what he said, that it just felt right in the moment. 

“You can use my shower, sweetheart. When you’re finished, get changed into something nice, or not- but I don’t think you’d want to wear leggings and a hoodie on your first date.” He said, a smirk creeping up on his lips. 

“Are you, the Jace Herondale- who never dates- asking me out on a date?” 

“No, I’m not asking you,” he chuckled, playing with your hair, “darling, I’m telling you.”

#jace wayland smut #jace wayland #jace herondale smut #jace lightwood #jamie campbell bower #jamie campbell bower x reader #jamie bower #jace wayland x reader #jace herondale x reader #jace morgenstern #city of bones #shadowhunters

[cryptidghostgirl]

A/N I have some requests in the chain above this one but wanted to post something that was a stand alone and not a part to another fic I wrote earlier because of how long I have been away. I promise the two requests lined up before this (pt 3 of till death do us part and pt 4 to cover up) will be out soon! Also, this request reminds me of Cinder by Marissa Meyer so there is some mild inspo from that in here (and loose quoting. sorry. I got carried away.).

What it Means to be a Person (Alastor x Cyborg!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Description: Y/n gave an arm and a leg to the fight against the exterminators and feels she has lost her humanity by the bionic replacements Lucifer and Charlie gifted her in return. Alastor reminds her that not all is lost, she can still dance, after all.

Warnings: Hurt//comfort. This might've ended up a little more angsty than intended and I kinda ran away with the prompt. Sorry about that.

Word Count: 2,246

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List 

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

“Imagine there was a cure, but it would cost you everything. What would you do?”

Y/n's question hung in the air of the dimly lit kitchen, echoing off the uncertainties late hours like this one always seemed to carry. Alastor froze where he stood by the stove, his hang halfway to the kettle whistling away upon it. He turned to face her where she sat at the far end of the rough hewn kitchen table, her head in her hands and her hair acting as a curtain, as a shield, hiding her face from view.

The meeting had been an accident. Alastor had found himself craving a cup of tea to accompany his late night preparations for tomorrows broadcast and when he had entered the kitchen, he had found her sitting there. Since the day Y/n had shown up at the hotel in all her bright and wild exuberance, Alastor had felt a connection with the girl. She was bubbly, a showman at heart with a soft spot for the macabre, how could he not automatically find a certain level of camaraderie with her? Everything had changed after the battle with Heaven a few weeks before.

Y/n had fought valiantly, using all her brains and brawn to protect the place she had come to call her home and the people she had discovered to be her family. The battle did not take her life, but she did give an arm and a leg to its hungry fervor. With Lucifer's help, Charlie had managed to get her an appointment with a well known doctor in Pentagram City. The man had given Y/n back her ability to stand, to reach for things, but had taken the mangled remains of her human form in the process. She had been brought back to square one, learning how to walk, to hold a pencil. She had been filled to the brim with wires that allowed her to control her new appendages.

The conversation had been an accident as well. Alastor hadn't meant to open the can of worms he was now sifting through. He had just spotted her sitting there, had casually asked how she was doing. Y/n was always so human, so much more human than he was capable of being. It was the only thing that had ever held him back from taking what he wanted, that wild and irrevocable humanity of hers.

"I would take the cure." Alastor replied after a moment, turning back to the stove and at last lifting the kettle, pouring the hot water into his favorite mug, "It would be better than the alternative."

With a decided intent in his step, he made his way over to her. The legs of the chair scraped dangerously across the floor as he pulled it out and took a seat beside her. Y/n looked up.

Alastor was shocked at what he saw. Y/n had been hiding since the battle, claiming that she was recuperating. No one had any reason to doubt her given the injuries she had sustained but now, Alastor was not so sure. Her eyes were sunken, dark circles dulling the pink of her cheeks. She was silver in the moonlight as it streamed through the window but she did not shine as she normally seemed to.

"I'm not human anymore."

Y/n's voice was cracked and raw, it only made him love her more. Out of all the creatures in Hell, she was the only one who would worry about such a thing, he was sure of it. Alastor had to stop himself from laughing, focusing on the heat of the cup held between his hands.

"You never were. You haven't been in a long time." he mused in response and Y/n sighed.

"I don't feel like a person anymore."

Again, another contradiction. Y/n was a demon, through and through. Not quite an overlord but powerful, well on her way to becoming one. There was nothing human about that in Alastor's eyes. The way he saw it, the moment a soul died they stopped being a person, no matter where in the afterlife they ended up. It was clear she would not agree. They had never talked of such matters before, it was an unexpected revelation. Alastor took a deep breath.

"Why?"

Y/n was silent, her eyes returning to the table as she traced the grains of the wood. It was unlike him, the concern, the curiosity for such an emotional matter. Alastor had long since given up on trying to make sense of the things she provoked in him. He tried again.

"How do you define being human? Is it what you look like? What you're made up of? Or is it who you are."

It was a clumsy attempt. There had been no need to provide comfort for a long time, not since Alastor had been alive. He was out of practice but, he supposed, caring for another was rather like riding a bike. Once you learned how it was done, you never really forgot.

"Who you are but..." Y/n's eyes met his once again, the conflict occuring behind them apparent.

She was unsheltered, the facade was gone. Alastor would consider himself close with the demon, closer perhaps than anyone else at the hotel but still, he had never seen her like this. His heart hurt.

"At the same time," she continued solemnly, "there is more to it than that."

"How do you define humanity?"

Y/n thought for a moment.

"Dancing. Spending time with friends, having people who care about you. Making meals together, reading books and poetry. Making art. Feeling one with the world around you, being a part of the earth we all come from."

Alastor held another laugh at bay. It wasn't out of the blue but, at the same time, there was something strange about hearing the words as they left her lips. He took a sip of his drink, the hot liquid worming its way down his throat and into his stomach.

"Doesn't the fact that you now find yourself to be inhuman at all show at least some of those?"

Y/n cocked her head to the side in confusion, her brow furrowing. Alastor sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"What I mean is that the reason you have those bionic limbs of yours at all is because you have people who care about you enough to get them for you and you cared enough about other people to give up what you originally had. If that isn't having people who care about you, spending time with friends, being one with the world around you, I don't know what is."

"But I am not of the earth any longer." Y/n ruefully replied.

"You are."

"How? I am naught but metal now. I traded steel for skin."

In the weakness of the night breeze, she seemed to slip into the skin she once wore. Flowery language, a posh, nearly transatlantic accent, shoulders straight and strong, all reminders of her upper class upbringing from so long ago. He could almost see her now as she must've been. It was a trick of the light.

"You were buried, right?"

Y/n nodded.

"I believe so. Beside my mother."

"Then you are forever of the earth."

"To the earth we must return," Y/n nodded after a moment in solemn agreement, "but I will never dance again."

Alastor had never even known it was something she had enjoyed. The time for questions was later, he got to his feet, his cup left abandoned on the table.

Alastor summoned his staff with a wave of his hand, leaning it against the sideboard as a soft song began playing from its speaker. Turning to Y/n once again, he offered her his hand. Y/n eyed it tentatively before reaching out her own to grab it.

With a shake of Alastor's head, she halted mid movement. He didn't need words to get his point across, Y/n just didn't like it. Lowering her hand, she raised the other. It was heavier, made from something other than flesh. There was an ungainly sense to the way she moved it. It didn't flow graceful through the air, it was too heavy for that. The metal of her fingers was cold and harsh against his palm as he helped her ineptly to her feet.

"Ella Fitzgerald." she mused softly, her eyes on his microphone.

"I didn't know you liked jazz."

Y/n's eyes met his once again and she gave him a half hearted smile.

"Growing up in the 1930s and being someone who held distaste towards jazz would have been an impossibility, wouldn't you agree?"

He had known she was alive sometime around the turn of the century but, that had been it. Alastor grinned from ear to ear at this subtle revelation.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you."

Letting go of her hand, Alastor took a step back. He bowed. Y/n couldn't help it, she laughed a little.

"What on earth are you doing?"

Alastor looked up at her, still bowing as their eyes met. Slowly, he straightened himself up, holding a hand out to her once again.

"Y/n, would you do me the absolute honor of sharing this dance?"

He had hoped his showmanship would make her smile, make her laugh even, the way it normally did. Instead, she withdrew her arms to her chest, taking a halting step backwards as she shook her head. Alastor's gaze softened. He had never seen her afraid before.

"Please."

"I..."

Y/n's eyes flitted wildly around the room, searching for any excuse, any fodder for her escape. At last, she relented, hesitantly placing her hand back into his own.

"Okay."

Her voice was soft, almost breathless. Alastor pulled her into him, snaking an arm around her waist as she placed her other on his shoulder.

"See?" he asked as they began to dance, "All is not lost to you."

There was nothing elegant about her movements. Y/n grimaced.

"But it is not the same either. Once I was something grand."

"Change is inevitable. You are still someone grand."

"Not change like this."

Alastor spun her out, catching Y/n in his arms as she almost tripped over the weight of her foot.

"Why do you hate it so much? Is it vanity?"

“Vanity is a factor," Y/n admitted, "but it is more a question of control. It is easier to trick others into perceiving you as beautiful if you can convince yourself you are beautiful. But mirrors have an uncanny way of telling the truth and I am not made up of the same materials I once was."

"Change is inevitable." Alastor said again and was overjoyed when Y/n rolled her eyes, smiling slightly as his response, "You're still beautiful, almost more so now."

This took her aback. The tingle of a question at the back of her mind was outweighed by shock. She stilled, still pressed close to Alastor as the music filtered softly into their ears.

"What?"

"Before you shined, but just on the inside." Alastor admitted, refusing to look away from her wide eyes even as he felt the heat rush to his cheeks, "Now you do on the outside as well, see?"

He held the hand he clasped tightly in his own up to the light streaming in through the window. The moon glinted off the silver surface of the metal, sending playful patterns scattering across the walls of the kitchen. Y/n's breath caught in her throat.

"And you can still dance. Why don't you help me with dinner tomorrow?"

It was something they had done on occasion before the extermination, cook for the inhabitants of the Hazbin Hotel together.

"Why are you doing this?"

The smile slipped from Alastor's face.

"I don't understand." Y/n shook her head, pushing herself away from Alastor and wrapping her arms around her torso, "Why are you doing all this for me?"

The answer was simple. Sometimes, the truest things in life are.

"Because I love you." he admitted, "And it pains me to see you like this."

"I..."

He had known it was too good to be true. The music stopped, his staff vanishing into thin air as quickly as it had appeared.

"I'll go. Just... make sure you get some sleep tonight, I know you havent been."

He was halfway to the door, mostly past her, when he felt the cool grip of her hand on the exposed skin of his wrist. Alastor stopped, he turned. There was a minute bravery in the act. Not that she had stopped him, that she had grabbed his arm. If anything, that was the most normal thing that had occurred all evening. No, it was the arm she had chosen to use, the one she held such conflict over and saw as something to be embarrassed about, ashamed of.

She stood tense in the moonlight, her free hand raised to her chest.

"I..."

Y/n's mind was spinning, her thoughts firing off at a thousand miles a minute. She wanted to say it, knew it was true, but something stopped her. She wasn't ready.

"Thank you, Alastor."

Alastor smiled softly, almost sadly over at her. Gently, he removed her hand from his wrist, holding it in his own and patting it gently.

"Always."

------

QUOTES REFERENCED (BECAUSE I REFUSE TO STEAL OTHERS WORK EVEN FOR A FANFICTION)

“Imagine there was a cure, but it would cost you everything. What would you do?” -> taken from “Imagine there was a cure, but finding it would cost you everything. It would completely ruin your life. What would you do?” in Cinder by Marissa Meyer

“Vanity is a factor," Y/n admitted, "but it is more a question of control. It is easier to trick others into perceiving you as beautiful if you can convince yourself you are beautiful. But mirrors have an uncanny way of telling the truth and I am not made up of the same materials I once was." -> taken from “Vanity is a factor, but it is more a question of control. It is easier to trick others into perceiving you as beautiful if you can convince yourself you are beautiful. But mirrors have an uncanny way of telling the truth.” in Cinder by Marissa Meyer

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0@kahlan170@wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007

#hazbin hotel #x reader #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #x reader fics #fic writer #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel angst #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #cyborg reader #cyborg #cinder #alastor imagines #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hurt/comfort #the radio demon x reader #radio demon x reader #the radio demon #radio demon #requested #requests open #requests #request #alastor angst

[pennyserenade]

i have thought in great detail about coriolanus and sejanus, and whether or not coriolanus ever really liked sejanus. i think that the novel/movie are purposefully constructed to make this ambiguous, but i prefer to veer on the side of "yes, he did."

coriolanus' way of loving people was...lacking, to say the least. even with tigris, he thought awful, mean things about her, but it was evident he cared very much for her. the problem with coriolanus was not that he couldn't love -- it was that he could not love without first being assured that his investment would yield positive results for him. at least, he could not readily admit to himself that he was loving until he knew it was going to work out for him.

his character is very succinctly summed up by sejanus, when he tells him, "I remember that from school, watching you watch other people. Pretending you weren't. And choosing the moments you weighed in so carefully" (397). without fully knowing the totality of it, sejanus got it all too right: coriolanus took people in, measured them out, decided what they meant to him, and weighed in when he thought it'd benefit him. coriolanus was calculated in all things, most of all in love—a thing he knew made you vulnerable.

but that's not to say what coriolanus said to himself was the exact same thing as what he felt. if it was, i do not believe he would've done half the things he had done for sejanus--even given the prospect of reward in the end. this is part of what makes coriolanus descent into evil so heartbreaking: a part of him was good. he did want for connection and comfort, even if he had a real fucked up way of going about getting it. coriolanus was a dog that bit without fully knowing why; it was a protective instinct he used, because so much of his life had been filled with loss already.

in the book, after coriolanus snuck his father's handkerchief with lucy gray's scent into the tank of snakes, he went to sejanus' house. this is an incredible detail that so many people tend to overlook when they talk about coriolanus and sejanus' friendship. the beginning of the chapter reads:

"What had he done? What on earth had he done? His heart raced as he blindly turned down one street and then another, trying to make sense of his actions. He couldn't think clearly but had the dreadful feeling he'd crossed some line that could not be uncrossed" (287).

we start this chapter with a frenzied, rattled coriolanus, one terribly afraid of what he had just done and the consequences this action might have later. he was scared and isolated, and he didn't know what to do. a little further on, collins writes: "His feet had carried him far from home, but he realized the Plinth apartment was just a few minutes away. Why not pop in?" (288).i find this construction of words to be fascinating, especially in relation to coriolanus--a character we have come to known as calculated and precise, even in moments when he has to think on his feet. one could argue that during this part of the book, and in this state, it makes sense that coriolanus might wander that far from his home absent-mindedly. it shows how out of touch with himself he had become, and just how much the act he had just committed disorientated him. but i think it was more than that. i think coriolanus wanted to go to the plinth's house, that he was seeking comfort after he had done something incredibly dangerous (something, arguably, that sejanus might have done), and he could not admit it to himself. and his original intention had been to see sejanus, but sejanus was asleep.

the fact that collins wrote "his feet had carried him" and "he realized" is so brilliant. i’ve got lots of opinions about why she chose to write the book in a third person point of view. one of the reasons i think she did it has to do with the fact that coriolanus was distancing himself from himself--shedding culpability through phrases such as these, especially in moments like this. coriolanus did love sejanus, but he simply could not admit it to himself because sejanus was not a safe or wise investment to make. coriolanus refused to give credence to his need for him, and it ended up killing the boy in the long run.

#sejanus plinth #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #suzanne collins #tbosas meta #tbosas analysis #didn't mean to write an essay #this fully was meant to be a short post but i had finished all my homework #and suddenly i had my kindle app open and i wrote a page number without thinking (bc i am an english major and this is my lot) #and bam it was an essay

[sleepiexx]

Hi sleepie🖤!! SorryI'm bit shy but I was wondering if you could a valeria x fem!reader x farah if you can't it's ok.

(have a great day or night🖤)

Everything is Falling Apart

Farah Karim x fem!Reader x Valeria Garza

Note: you requested this in late December I’m soooo sorry it took this long 😭😩 I wrote a lot and I’m willing to do a part two so anyone feel free to request!!

Summary: Farah and Valeria were never destined to meet, but when they come across a common enemy they find they work rather well together.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, torture (not on reader

Word Count: 4476

It was not often that one of 141’s sworn enemies stormed through Farah’s front door looking to make a deal, yet in front of her stood the infamous Valeria Garza, backed by cartel, carrying a file of someone Farah knew very little, yet oh so well.

“Farah Karim.” Valeria addressed her steadily, looking at the woman for any hint that she would retaliate.

Farah straightened herself up, crossing her arms and staring with the exact same purpose, “Valeria Garza.”

Valeria’s lips quirked up into a smirk, “I see your little British friends have already told you about me.”

Farah continued to analyze every move the woman made, “what do you want?” She asked.

Valeria’s posture changed, any sign of smugness erased as she got to business. “We have a common enemy.”

Farah scoffed, “what common enemy could I have with you and your drug runners?”

Valeria threw the file she’d been carrying down on the table between them, opening it up and displaying its contents to Farah. Farah looked at the file, then back at Valeria with a quirked brow.

“Two weeks ago your systems were hacked by a seemingly untraceable source.”

Farah straightened her posture, gaze turned scrutinizing. She thought through a million different ways she could disarm Valeria and her men, holding steady, waiting for just one reason to enact any one of those plans.

Valeria’s smirk returned, “That got your attention, huh?” She laughed slyly, at the standoffish look on Farah’s face, “don’t worry, I had nothing to do with it.”

“And how am I to believe that?” Farah glared, “Am I meant to take your word for it?”

Valeria shook her head, “No, you’re not. But right there in front of you is proof that it was not me.” She pointed at the file, Farah began to read some of it.

“I only know that you were hacked, Farah, because three nights ago that very same hacker stole some important information from me.”

Farah nodded, a new sense of understanding, “so what do you propose?”

Valeria stepped forward, making the conversation more intimate and intense, “alone, neither of us have had much luck finding who did this. They’re skilled, I’ll give them that. Covering their tracks like nothing you or I have ever seen before, no doubt they have someone strong backing them. But with your forces and mine combined? They stand no chance. What do you say?”

Farah looked back to the file once more, taking in as much information as she could before offering her hand, “Deal.”

Valeria had proven correct.

Working with Valeria who wasn’t constrained by the politics and the rules enforced by the government proved to ensure things were done in half the time it took Graves or the 141. Their forces together found out more about this hacker in mere days than Farah alone had achieved in weeks.

And while they hadn’t exactly found a name, they found something much better: a location.

Still, they couldn’t go in straight away. They needed a plan. Blueprints for the building, how to get in and out, methods of capturing this hacker— and yes, they’d opted for capture over kill because while Valeria wanted the situation over and done with, Farah made good points on how they needed more information. Hacking through both cartel and rebel militant networks is not just an everyday endeavor, after all.

The time they spent prepping allowed for multiple revelations by the hacker herself.

She sat in a cold room, staring down at a computer monitor and debating herself. There was not a bone in her body that was confrontational. An anxious people pleaser, always scared to disappoint. Yet everyone has their breaking point, in which those bones which constantly allow themselves to be stepped on snap under pressure and you rapidly try to mend them with a splint of rage and conflict. Overcompensation.

She was anxious to disappoint, yes, but there were bigger issues at hand; namely, the documents she had nabbed. She was not supposed to be going through them, her job simply being to acquire them through any means necessary and, well, she’d always been good with computers. But it’s only human nature to peruse information you were never meant to have. The original sin, Eve and the apple, y/n and the documents she was absolutely under no circumstances allowed to open. Tale as old as time.

She knew it had to be bad. You kidnap someone to hack into such intricately protected servers, those servers are bound to have something important. She’d realized that as she hacked the first network and the fact that she wasn’t meant to look at the contents only cemented that fact.

Clicking into the files left her with an unbelievably guilty conscience, but that was nothing compared to the guilt she felt antagonizing over the possibilities of what her hacking would be used for. She knew nothing of the people who kidnapped her, but she knew they could not possibly be the “good guys.” Her mouse hovered over the most recent file for all but three seconds before she took the leap of faith and clicked on it. What she found was, simply put, confusing. Lists of locations, dates, times, she didn’t recognize any of it. No major events which had happened, although she didn’t much watch the news. She clicked into a search engine, looking up each of the dates and locations, only to come up short.

Her brows furrowed, left with more questions than answers. But there were more files she could search, she’d done a lot of digging, they ensured that. She clicked on another file, opening up a black screen with a play button and a timestamp on the bottom. She double checked that the volume on her computer was quiet enough that it could not be heard from outside of the room before pressing play. The scene was horrific.

It was an interrogation, clearly. A man tied to a chair, bag on his head. In front of him were two people, a man and a woman. Both looked intimidating, dressed like they were ready for trouble, muscular arms painted with inky black tattoos, a stare lingering on either of their eyes like they hungered for blood.

The bag was ripped off the man in the chair’s head by the man who was standing. The woman remained where she stood, leaned against a table, arms crossed, watching. Y/n didn’t let the woman’s lack of involvement fool her. The woman had the same predator stare as her companion, if not more sinister. She did not take the backseat, it was almost as if the man was following her silent command.

The interrogation methods which ensued were gut wrenching. Y/n felt as though she may get sick. The man’s screams were unlike anything she’d witnessed or heard before in her entire life. She pressed her palm to her mouth as she stared on in shock. Despite everything, the man would not give the pair the information they wanted. Y/n had no clue what the breaking point was, but the woman stepped up, waving away the man as she called him incompetent— he seemed fairly competent at torture, at least to y/n. She couldn’t fathom what the woman had in plan.

Her face flushed and dread seeped into every inch of her body. She had no idea it could get worse, but it did. The man was left choking on his blood, finally breaking to the woman’s will after a mere five minutes.

While her attention was fixed on the computer screen, the sound of the door opening went unbeknownst to y/n. She clicked off the file, opting to open another but she was stopped short by a stern voice.

“What are you doing?”

Her head shot up from the monitor, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “I- I was just-“

“Opening the file you were specifically instructed to leave alone?” He took a pernicious step in her direction.

She was scared, beyond belief. She knew she had to respond and she had to respond well, but thinking on her feet never seemed to be her thing. “Well it- it’s necessary that I- uhm, ensure I uploaded everything properly.”

His face was stone cold, he was not fooled by her words, that much was evident. “Shouldn’t you have done that when you acquired the file to begin with?”

She licked her lips, shifting her gaze across the room, “I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

There was nothing to do but double down, it was almost like she could physically feel her chances of making it out of this alive spill away and seep down the cracks in the floor as the “mhm,” left her mouth.

In anger, he violently slammed his boot clad foot into the metal trash can beside him, creating a thundering noise to go along with his rage filled voice. “Do you think I’m a fucking idiot? Huh?”

“No- No, no sir! I just-“ her voice cracked, she knew she couldn’t talk her way out of this one, “please just let me go! I won’t tell anyone I swear. I just want out, please!”

The man shook his head, “we will let you go when we are through with you. Until then, you stay right here.”

She shook her head in frustration, “these people you’re fucking with are dangerous, I- I don’t even want to know what they’d do to me if we’re caught.”

He got up in her face, grabbing her wrist with a near bone breaking clutch, “you don’t want to know what I’ll do to you if you don’t do as I say.”

Her face twisted in pain, “fuck- fuck- Jesus fucking god okay! Okay? Let go!”

He dropped her wrist, allowing it to fall to her side. For a moment, he stood unmoving, yet all at once he was impossibly closer, “I’m the one in charge here, you’d do well to remember that,” he snarled. He stared for a tense moment before turning on his heel and leaving the room, not bothering to lock the door when he knew well that there were guards she wouldn’t dare cross.

And all at once she was alone again.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

She pleaded with herself. She could not cry, not here, not now. She would not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her tears.

She sat still and suffered in silence for just a moment, praying to everything and to nothing, that this would all just be over.

Hours passed, and she swore up and down she was driving herself crazy in that room. Those four walls seemed to cave in on her, she paced and paced, thoughts racing, searching for any way out of the situation she’d found herself in that fateful night she decided to go on a walk at night. Such a stupid idea, looking back on it, to walk the barely lit pathway from her apartment to the corner store, music blaring in her ears. Almost as though she was begging someone to snatch her up off the street and take her away, never to be seen again.

She felt sick, but self hatred had to be cast aside for now. She had to clear her mind, had to think. How could she get out of this? Could she get out of this?

She was shook from her thoughts by a loud explosion, like gunshots— no, not like. The closer she listened, she realized they were gunshots.

The door slammed open, some part of her, no matter how minuscule, hoped it was the man from before. Better a devil that you know, right? But it wasn’t that man, no it was some woman she’d never seen before. She knew better than to trust it, but her brain couldn’t help her here. Not against trained freedom fighter Farah Karim.

She didn’t know the woman but she knew she was screwed as she was slammed against the table. Even more so when she caught a glimpse over Farah’s shoulder. No more than 5 feet away stood the woman whose image she would never burn out of her head, the woman from the video.

Terror shot through her very being. She knew this whole thing would go tits up, could feel it from the moment she saw that goddamn video. This “organization” which had kidnapped her would fuck up and she would reap the consequences.

She kicked and she hit, flailing around in a desperate attempt to fight her way out of the grasp of the woman on top of her. It wasn’t until she felt the sting of cool metal on the base of her throat that she stilled. Her eyes met cold, dark brown. The same eyes she’d seen torture that man in the video without a hint of sympathy. Her chest heaved.

“You’re not going to move unless I say so, you got that?” The hacker tried to nod but the knife moved further up on her neck, pressed harder, nearly piercing her skin, “What did I just say? Tell me, out loud.”

“‘M not gonna move,” she breathed out.

The woman scoffed, lightening the tension between blade and throat only slightly, keeping it there as a reminder of what would happen should the girl before her choose to disobey, “damn right you’re not.”

The other woman in the room was aloof, uncaring about the air of violence caused by her comrade, almost relishing in it yet refraining herself, “Where are they?”

“What?” The hacker asked, wanting nothing more than to answer without a struggle but not understanding the question.

“The files you stole, where are they?”

Those files were important, she could guess that the moment she was kidnapped and forced to retrieve them. Even more so when it was drilled in her head that she was never to give them up, that the man tasked with holding her captive would hurt her worse than the women before her could even imagine. But in their presence, it was easy to tell who was scarier. After all, she’d seen what just one of them could do. But that man? Well, who’s to say he’s not just all talk?

“They- they’re on the computer.”

The knife was pulled from her neck Valeria gestured to the desk. When y/n made no attempt to move, she spoke, “go on then, show us.”

She stood hesitantly, keeping her eye on the women as she went over to the desktop. It wasn’t password protected, there was no need. Not when it wasn’t her own personal device and the men holding her hostage couldn’t tell their ass from their elbow when it came to technology.

She clicked on the file which she’d opened mere hours before and to her horror, what popped up on the screen had been the last thing she viewed. The sight of blood spattered all over that room made her queasy, the fact that the woman who spilled that blood was right behind her with a knife bid her no semblance of security. She flinched, like a teenager who’d been caught watching a porno. And all the same, she scrambled to click out of that specific file and into the folder containing all the information she’d thieved.

The tension was thick, yet it was broken by the loud click of the door being slammed open. Every head in the room turned toward the man in the doorway.

Shit.

She’d been obedient to these women, riding on the fact that the man who threatened her not to wasn’t in the room. Yet here he stood before her, pointing a gun like he’d done so a million times— and she didn’t doubt that he had. What that said about his aim was scary, her end seemed almost imminent yet she could not just accept that. No, her body refused. Adrenaline raced through her veins, preparing her for something she hadn’t half the mind to do.

“Hands up!” His voice boomed. They each listened, her scurrying to put her arms up, palm faced towards him. The other women were slow to do it, but followed, scoffing as though this were only a minor inconvenience.

He did not seem to like that.

“What? You think this isn’t serious?” His brows furrowed, and his face twisted to near rage. The barrel of the gun scanned the room, coming to a stop on the hacker.

Her mouth fell open— she was the least threat in this room, why was the gun on her?

“You need her, right? She’s the one who knows everything you need. I put a bullet in her brain and you’re left with nothing.”

She looked at the other women, suddenly realizing that they were fuming. Farah’s eyes shot to her, searching for signs of betrayal. She found none, but fear was evident— must not have been close with this specific man.

She was patient, calculated. And so was her confidant, but in the presence of such a foolish man, brash measures were deemed necessary. They stared on like predators.

Events flashed one after another, adrenaline making it seem like time ran faster than it truly did. One moment the man held a gun in his hands, trained on the talented young hacker, the next a fight broke out between him and the two military trained women and just when it looked like he had the upper hand, y/n found herself standing over the man, hands coated in thick splatters of blood that wouldn’t seem to stop spewing from the wound she’d made in his eye. The scissors weren’t meant to go so deep. Fuck. This couldn’t be happening.

She had no idea what came over her, it was like she wasn’t in her own body. Like instinct had taken over; if you don’t kill that man, he’ll kill you first. But, he couldn’t be dead, could he? She couldn’t have killed him.

Her bloodied hands shot to his neck, holding two fingers to where she assumed the artery was. She didn’t know what she was searching for. A pulse, maybe, something to prove that she wasn’t a killer. That she hadn’t done this. She moved her fingers around when she felt no movement, surely she just hadn’t found the right spot.

Valeria pushed her hands aside, taking over where y/n had left off with 20 times the precision. Her head turned back to the other woman, “he’s dead.”

Y/n’s heart dropped, her airway seemed to tighten and her face twitched as if in agony.

“One less problem for us to deal with,” Valeria remarked with a smile.

Farah shook her head, eyes trained on the bloodied hacker. This prompted Valeria’s smile to drop as she turned to where Farah was looking in curiosity.

The face the girl before them made was one they knew well. Innocence broken. First blood. She had never killed anyone before.

“Oh- oh god. He’s dead- I killed him!” Her eyes couldn’t stop themselves from holding steady on the man’s body, “they- it, it wasn’t supposed to go so deep. Oh my god, I’m a killer.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

The voice that seemed lately to constantly echo this in her head, finally went silent. Tears dripped down her face. She felt pure dread.

Farah and Valeria couldn’t take their eyes off the scene. They couldn’t get a proper read on the girl. Maybe she’s been conducting her crimes behind a screen, never getting into the nit and grit, leaving the dirty work to other people. But one nagging thought creeped in, one neither of them could seem to push away no matter how hard they tried; maybe, just maybe this hacker girl wasn’t as guilty in this as they had originally thought.

“Fuck.” Farah whispered, cautiously stepping towards the near catatonic hacker despite the harsh look Valeria gave her. She kneeled between the girl and the body, hoping it would urge her eyes from the spot where his body lay, it did not.

“Look at me,” Farah said, voice steady, commanding, yet full of tact. Y/n looked up, lashes lined with tears, lips trembling, nose twitching, still desperate to listen to the woman who seemed to hold her fate in her hands. “You didn’t do anything you didn’t absolutely have to.”

The girl shook with such intensity you’d think there was an earthquake, a haunted look in her eyes as she sniffled and sobbed, “I killed him.”

Valeria was slower to melt at the sorrow than Farah had been, burned one too many times by some teary eyed kid pretending they were traumatized only to sheath a knife in her back. But that look in her eyes was unmistakable, the type of panic and grief you couldn’t fake. An innocence that was irreplicable.

She kneeled beside Farah, placing a hand on the shaking shoulder of the hacker, “for good reason.”

The girl shook her head, in a downward spiral, end nowhere in sight.

But there was no time to console her. Alarms blared across the building, startling the hacker into letting out something between a sob and a scream.

No matter how much the women wanted to help, they knew it would have to wait. Time was running out. Valeria pulled her off the ground, grabbing her shoulders and giving her precise instructions.

“You listen to me, you do exactly as I say and you make it out of this alive. Go to the computer, I want you to put all the information— the files, videos, logs— on this drive,” she pulled the girl’s hand from her side, roughly placing a thumb drive into her hand and clasping her fingers around it, “and then you are going to follow us out of this room and we are leaving. Do you understand?”

She nodded, unable to even form words. When the woman let go of her hand, she hightailed it to the desk, moving information faster than she had ever done in her life. It wasn’t like she did high-stress “hacking,” on the regular, just small things, things that seemed stupid in comparison. When she was done, she placed the drive on the table, wiping all original copies clean off the computer.

The second she gave the indication that she was done, they were out the door. Farah behind her, Valeria in front, pulling her along by her wrist.

They didn’t get far before they were stopped. Pulled into a flow of violence and fighting as they went down a flight of stairs, meeting what was presumably their forces fighting ferociously in the hall. The hacker had no clue what to do with herself, staring around aimlessly, for a moment, she considered tucking tail and running while everyone was distracted but the thought was quickly snuffed out as she made eye contact with Valeria. Brown eyes glared into her own and she stood confused, it’s not like the woman could’ve heard her thoughts.

A slamming pain is what made everything make sense. Oh. She was not glaring at y/n, rather what was behind her. All too fast, the world faded from focus.

Existence was fuzzy. Life seemed so far away. A ringing in her ears was all she could tether herself with, floating around the endless mind scape that was her thoughtless brain.

What brought her to consciousness was a stinging pain ringing through her skull, like the buzz of an amp before a concert. She was confused. Looking around, her surroundings were unfamiliar. Had this entire ordeal been a dream? Some weird post-one night stand nightmare? Post nut clarity? She didn’t remember sleeping with anyone, and she knew good and well that she had a couple weeks worth of memories in captivity, but the mind was a fickle thing, and that was a kinder thought than the realization that everything she experienced had actually happened.

She went to wipe her tired eyes but found that she couldn’t move her hands. Looking above her, she found her hands bound with a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. Huh, maybe this had been some weird sex dream after all. But if that’s so, where was her partner? And why was she still tied.

She tugged at the cuffs, seeing if there was any give, but her hands stayed trapped. She huffed in frustration and a slow building panic, what if the organization recaptured her? The fuzzy cuffs were strange, sure, but maybe they figured her wrists needed to be in tact for hacking. That didn’t take other forms of torture off the table, she had betrayed them after all. Whether she had any loyalty to them in the first place or not.

She heard the door to the room open and she sank into the bed, letting her eyes fall shut as she pretended she was still asleep.

The room was quiet for a moment, until right next to her ear she heard, “I know you’re awake.”

She flinched, eyes opening only to be met with the same dark brown she’d seen as she was hit over the head.

She wondered briefly where Farah had gone, but her question was answered as a scoff sounded behind the other woman. “Leave the girl alone, she passed the test.”

The hacker’s brows furrowed, “test?” She wondered aloud.

Valeria smirked, “the cuffs. Any trained professional could know how to get out of these in seconds,” she grabbed onto the metal, tugging on it to prove that the cuffs were still tight, “you, clearly, are no trained professional.”

Anxiety bubbled in her stomach, it felt as though they could smell her fear. They knew now that she had absolutely nothing over them, no way of fighting back, no thumb drive as leverage. They could drag her through their every whim and she would have to just take it. Her frightened demeanor was evident.

Farah stepped forward, “you have nothing to worry about,” she fiddled with the cuffs before pulling them away and holding them up, freeing the hacker’s wrists, “just means you don’t have to wear these any more.”

“Can I- can I go home?”

“Not yet.”

The hopeful gleam fell from her face unceremoniously, you’re not out of the woods yet, she reminded herself.

“Cheer up,” Valeria almost commanded, “we just have some things we need to sort out, until then you’re staying with Farah and I.”

The hacker looked on expectedly for the woman’s name, presuming that Farah was the other woman in the room.

“That’s Valeria,” Farah explained, “what’s your name?”

The hacker's eyes flitted between the women, anxious, holding off on answering until it seemed almost inappropriate to do so, “y/n.”

Unbeknownst to the group, this little alliance between Valeria and Farah which held y/n captive would become so much more than ever intended.

#farah karim x reader #farah Karim x you #farah karim #farah cod #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza cod #valeria garza #valeria cod #call of duty fanfic

[maximoffcarter]

Drunken nights.

Pairings: Alex Cabot x reader.

Summary: Alex never understood what was the point of getting drunk, y/n had never seen her drunk before. But sometimes it happens that people stop counting their drinks and then...we get a drunk Alex.

A/n: This was requested by an anon, drunk and clingy Alex. I wrote more than I expected, I just got carried away, so I hope it is what the anon wanted haha. Keep the requests coming you guys! Enjoy and leave your comments, reblogs, hearts, whatever you'd like, will be very much appreciated🫶🏻

*not my gif*

Alexandra Cabot has always been a private and reserved person for as long as she can remember. Even when she was a kid, she had been a selective kid and pretty reserved about what she liked and wanted, so that meant that she had very few friends, and never actually kept any contact with them. But that had changed when she started college. At first, she had said that she’d fully focus on her studies only, she was always the top of her class, so she was not about to change that here, and if that meant zero friends, then so be it. But after her first class, she ran into a girl in the hallway, making all of her books fall to the floor, and once she had them all back in her hands with the help of the girl, she couldn’t help but stare at her and the girl had done the same. That was the day when Alex and y/n had become close friends.

Their whole career, they had stuck by each other’s sides and had pushed the other to become the best in their classes. Alex would be lying if she said that she would’ve rather stay alone and go through the years alone, she had actually been happy to have someone by her side who was at her level, and who never stopped her from being herself and getting what she wanted, though they had their differences, they got alone pretty well, and Alex loved that about y/n. After graduating, they had parted ways, both women wanting different things with their careers, but even then, they never once lost contact and if they ever needed anything, they were just one call away.

And that’s how y/n ended up being Alex’s roommate three years later. On a random day, y/n had told Alex that she would be moving to Manhattan and that she had been trying to find a place to live but everywhere she went, was either way too expensive for her at the moment, it was a complete shithole, or it was too far away from her new job. So, Alex thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea if she offered y/n her guest room. Her apartment was pretty big, in a good location, her guest was actually never used, and Alex definitely didn’t mind the company of her best friend; and she was right, once again, she had taken the best decision. It turned out that y/n was working in White Collar, and she had been transferred to Manhattan, so at the end of the day, they wouldn’t be working too far away from each other.

Coming home to y/n was probably the best thing ever, they had dinner together, they shared their work with each other whenever they were stuck or they needed another perspective, they had lunch together, they basically almost did everything together. After a whole year living together, Alex couldn’t picture herself in another situation, she couldn’t see herself living alone anymore, which once again brought back those old feelings; that crush she never mentioned when they were in college. Their friendship was so good and beautiful, unlike any other friendship that Alex had had before, so of course she didn’t want to lose that. If having y/n in her life meant she’d only have her as her friend, then that’s how it was going to be.

“Hey Lexi?” Y/n asked softly as she walked into the living room.

“Yeah?” Alex turned to look at y/n and smiled softly.

“We’re out of fruit and milk, I’m gonna head tomorrow to the store after work. Is there anything you need from the store?”

“I can come with you. Maybe something pops up while we’re there.” Alex smiled.

“That sounds good.” Y/n smiled. “Okay, I’m gonna go get ready.”

Alex frowned as she sat down on the couch and placed her notepad in her lap. “You’re going out?”

Y/n turned to look at Alex and smiled softly. “Yeah. Some colleague got me involved in a blind date and I said I’d go, thinking it was actually a night with them but…it’s a blind date.”

Alex’s smile fainted as she nodded, looking down at her notepad. “Good. Uh…I hope you have fun.” She looked back at y/n and offered a small smile. “Let me know if you need a ride back or if you need anything.”

“I will, thanks, Lexi. I’ll see at the office tomorrow.” Y/n smiled before she walked out of the living room.

It wasn’t that Alex was not conscious that this would happen sooner or later. Hell, she even went on one or two dates herself, even before y/n had moved in with her, she’s had her one night stands and dates, but after y/n had arrived, there was no one else but her. But Alex was pretty conscious that sooner or later, y/n would settle in Manhattan and then she’d start dating. She had also told Alex that she’d find a place once she was stable enough with her job, but Alex had insisted that she really didn’t mind her staying there, now that was their apartment and she liked it that way. But y/n could find a partner soon, and then maybe she’d one to have her private moment with them, which of course crushed Alex’s heart but she knew it was also her fault for never talking to y/n. There was nothing she could do.

********************

“How’s the Gilbert case going?” Y/n asked as she took a sip of her drink.

Alex shrugged as she took a bite of her sandwich. “It’s okay. I’ve got like…three witnesses. There is no way that he’s getting out of this one.”

“How could he when you’re prosecuting him?” Y/n grinned and went back to eat her food.

Alex stared at her for a moment and grinned, nodding her head. “So…you never told me about your date.” She looked down at her notepad even if she was really not paying attention to it.

Y/n looked back at Alex and shrugged. “It was okay. I mean…she’s really nice. She works with us, but I never noticed her before.”

“Are you…going out with her again?”

Y/n shrugged. “I’ve been pretty busy to think about that. But…maybe I wouldn’t say no to another date.”

Alex nodded softly as she looked back down at her notepad. “Right.” She cleared her throat. “By the way, I’m going out today with the squad. I’ve been promising that I’ll go for drinks with them, and they finally reminded me of it.” She chuckled.

“They just want to see you loosen up a bit.” Y/n chuckled softly.

Alex frowned as she shook her head. “What do you mean? I do loosen up.” She grinned.

“Oh, c’mon, Lexi. When was the last time you actually got drunk?” Y/n raised her brow.

“I…I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

“Because you haven’t…never.” Y/n laughed softly.

Alex rolled her eyes playfully. “Okay, so? What’s the point of getting drunk?”

Y/n shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s fun.”

“Oh, so much fun. I remember taking you back home and having you barely standing on both feet.”

“Hey! We do not mention those times.”

“Too late.” Alex laughed as y/n threw a chip at her, laughing with her.

Later that day, Alex had met the squad at a bar near the precinct, and it seemed like they were celebrating that Alex was finally going out with them. The first half hour she had only been listening to the rest of the squad talking about cases or some old stories they had, she had also been refusing to drink anything else than a glass of wine, but when the squad started asking for rounds of beers -and a shot or two-, Alex couldn’t help but drink along, ending up joining into the conversation and laughs. She was happy that even after all the stress and anxiety in the last few days, she could feel a bit relaxed and happy, suddenly every bad thought had been pushed away.

“So, Cabot. Anyone in your life?” Fin raised his brow as he looked at Alex.

Alex furrowed her brows as she looked at Fin. “I’m married to my work.”

Elliot laughed. “C’mon, Alex. Didn’t work with Langan?”

Alex laughed as she shook her head. “Oh, that was a mistake. Do not remind me of that date. It started and ended right there.”

Olivia laughed as she nodded. “We thought we would lose you that night.”

“Never. It was a complete mistake.” Alex sighed as she looked at her drink. “And no, no one in my life.”

“What about that girl you’re always with?” Munch asked as he looked at Alex.

Alex raised her brows. “Are you guys spying on me or something?” She chuckled. “And y/n, she’s my best friend. She lives with me. We’ve known each other since college.”

“Best friend? You sure about that?” Elliot grinned as he took a sip of his drink.

“She’s going out on dates. So yes. Just my best friend.” Alex took a sip of her drink and then shook her head again. “Why are we talking about my miserable love life? Let’s talk about something else!” She chuckled softly with Olivia.

After an hour or so, Alex had had more drinks than she was supposed to have, losing count of them at some point and forgetting that she had to go back home alone. She had told Olivia that she’d be okay, but Olivia could tell that Alex didn’t really mix drinks, ever, and if she let Alex go alone, she didn’t know what could happen. So she took the liberty to grab Alex’s phone and find y/n’s phone number and dialed it. After the phone call, Olivia smiled as she heard the worry on y/n’s voice and the way she said she’d be there as soon as possible to pick up Alex. Olivia then knew that Alex was completely oblivious of y/n’s feelings, and she was pretty sure that y/n was just as oblivious. Not too long after, y/n arrived and introduced herself to everyone, a shy smile on her face as Alex almost screamed her name when she saw her. She was wasted.

The whole ride, y/n had tried not to laugh as Alex kept singing whatever song played in the radio, every now and then, she’d turn to look at her and make sure she was still okay, but Alex looked like she was full of energy, which made y/n realize that once in the apartment, it would be a complete ordeal to get her to sleep, and that was if she was able to, a little afraid that Alex would end up being sick and would have to stay close to the toilet. Once they got to the building, y/n had her arms wrapped around Alex as they walked to the elevator. Alex had been talking nonsense the whole way to their floor, her arms securely wrapped around y/n. Y/n wanted to laugh as she had never seen Alex this way, maybe she had made a mistake to tell Alex that she had never been drunk because she was completely wasted, but y/n found it cute at the same time, and she had no problem in taking care of her. When they were inside the apartment, y/n made sure to sit Alex down so she could go close the door properly and make sure it was locked, but just as y/n left Alex’s side, she started to call for her.

“Y/n! Where did you go?” Alex whined as she leaned back against the couch. “Don’t leave me here!”

Y/n chuckled softly as she walked back into the living room. “Lexi, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I just had to go lock the door. We don’t want someone walking in.”

Alex groaned. “Right. Well, come here now.” She extended her arms as she smiled. “My arms are waiting for you.”

Y/n bit her lip as she held back her laugh. She shook her head and took a deep breath. “Alex, you’re going to bed. It’s late, and you’re drunk. You need sleep.”

Alex groaned again and whined as she let her arms fall. “But y/n! I want cuddles! Why won’t you want to cuddle?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Lexi. But you’re drunk. We can cuddle once you sleep.” Y/n walked to her and helped her get up, wrapping her arms around her waist.

Alex wrapped her arms around her neck and sighed. “You smell so good. You always do.”

Y/n sighed. “So, drunk Alex says her undying love for everyone, huh?” She grinned as they started walking to Alex’s room.

“Mmm…no.” Alex shook her head. “Just for youuuu.” She laughed.

“Right.” Y/n chuckled as she sat Alex on the bed. “You think you can change into your pajamas?”

Alex shrugged. “Can I?”

“I sure hope so, or we’re about to be uncomfortable in the morning when I tell you that I helped you change.” Y/n smiled as she went to Alex’s closet to get a fresh pair of pajamas. She then walked back to Alex and placed the clothes beside her. “Here, try to change while I go to the kitchen.”

Alex nodded rapidly. “Aye, aye, captain!”

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully as she walked out of the room and into the kitchen. She grabbed a snack thinking that maybe at some point in the night, Alex would get hungry, or even right at this moment. She then grabbed a glass of water and some pills for her to take in the morning. She turned off all the lights and then went back to Alex’s room, finding her already laying down in bed but mumbling something as she looked up at the ceiling. Y/n placed everything on Alex’s nightstand and then proceeded to get Alex’s clothes from the floor and the bed, walking to the bathroom and throwing them into the laundry basket. She went back to Alex’s bed and stared at her for a moment, smiling softly. Even drunk, Alex looked adorable and as beautiful as ever, it was almost frustrating. She took a deep breath as she went to Alex’s side and took off her glasses.

“Okay, Lexi. Time to sleep.” Y/n placed the glasses on her nightstand and then looked back at Alex. “You’ll worry about your makeup in the morning.” She tried to pull the covers so Alex could get under them but then Alex’s grabbed her hands.

“Y/n…please stay with me. Pretty please.” Alex pouted as she looked up at her.

Y/n chuckled softly. “Alex, you need sleep.”

“And I’ll sleep but stay with me. I don’t wanna be alone.” Alex pouted again, bringing y/n’s hands to her lips, and kissing them softly. “I want you here.”

Y/n’s breath hitched as she looked down at Alex, nodding softly. “Okay. I’ll stay with you.” She smiled softly and then went around the bed to lay down with Alex.

Before she knew it, Alex was moving and wrapped her arms around y/n’s middle, her head landing on y/n’s chest and sighing happily. Y/n couldn’t help but smile, wrapping her arms around Alex and kissing her head softly. It wasn’t the first time they cuddled, but there was something behind this moment that y/n couldn’t quiet tell what it was, but if she was given the chance, then she’d take it. They stayed quiet for a moment, y/n had started to trace patterns in Alex’s back as she looked up at the ceiling. Eventually, Alex started mumbling again, making y/n frown and look down at Alex, trying to figure out what she was saying.

“What are you saying?” Y/n whispered softly.

“I’m upset.” Alex said softly.

“Upset? Why upset?”

Alex sighed. “Y/n.”

Y/n frowned. “Y/n? What did she do?”

Alex sighed again as she looked up at y/n. “She doesn’t know. And I can’t tell her.”

“What doesn’t she know? Is there something you wanna tell her?”

Alex shrugged. “Maybe.” She rested her head again on y/n’s chest. “But can’t.”

“Maybe if you tell her you’ll stop being upset.”

“But then she’ll be upset.”

Y/n suddenly felt butterflies in her stomach, and not the good kind. She knew Alex was drunk, but she had also known that sometimes drunk people spoke the truth, and maybe there was something Alex had been keeping to herself and she hadn’t told y/n not to hurt her. And suddenly she was scared of what could possibly be in Alex’s mind, but she knew better than to push.

“Alex…you should sleep.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

Alex sighed as she looked up at y/n. “I wanna talk to y/n.”

Y/n smiled softly. “I’m here silly.”

Alex smiled. “That’s right.” She chuckled softly. “You beautiful.” She bit her lip, her hand suddenly going to y/n’s face, first stroking her cheek and then her fingertips touched her lips softly. “I like your lips.”

Y/n chuckled softly. “I like yours.”

Alex stared into her eyes and then bit her own lips. “I wanna kiss you.” She whispered softly as she stared at y/n’s lips, almost to herself, but since she was really close to y/n, she heard it.

Y/n gulped as she looked down at Alex. “You’re drunk, Alex. You don’t mean that.”

Alex frowned. “But I do.” She whispered softly, she then sat up and turned to look at y/n. “You…you don’t wanna kiss me?” Her face looked so sad as she asked, making y/n’s heart break a little.

“Alex…” y/n sat down and sighed as she placed her hand on Alex’s cheek, stroking it softly. “I do. But…you’re drunk. I will if this is what you still want in the morning.”

Alex whined. “But I want now.”

“Alex, I-“

Before she could say anything else, Alex placed her hands on y/n’s neck and closed the gap between them, kissing her lips tenderly but also hungrily. Y/n gasped softly, her first thought was pulling away, but her lips seemed to think on their own as she kissed Alex back, her other hand landing on Alex’s waist. Everything seemed to happen too fast as Alex moved to straddle y/n’s lap, pushing her against the pillows and swiping her tongue against y/n’s bottom lip, y/n giving her access right away and moaning as she felt Alex’s tongue. But then the taste of alcohol made her realize what was happening, her hands going to Alex’s shoulders and softly pushing her away, both women panting as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“Alex…this is…” Y/n swallowed as she tried to catch her breath. “I’m sorry.”

Alex sighed as she got off y/n’s lap and laid back down on her side, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes started to get teary as she bit her lip.

Y/n turned her head to look at Alex and sighed softly, moving close to her, and kissing her head softly. “You’re drunk, Alex.”

“Just…please don’t leave.” Alex rapidly went back to her arms, burying her face in y/n’s neck.

“Never.” Y/n wrapped her arms around her again as she sighed.

She didn’t know when they both had fallen asleep, the room had fallen into silence as they held each other and after that, both women lost track of time. Y/n groaned softly as she moved and tried to reach for Alex, but then she figured out that Alex’s side was now empty. Y/n opened her eyes and turned her head to try to find Alex, for a moment her mind stupidly thinking that she might’ve fallen to the floor, but then she heard Alex groaning in the bathroom and she stood up rapidly, almost running to the bathroom. She sighed as she found Alex kneeling in front of the toilet. She knelt beside Alex’s and held her hair as she threw up, she had been hoping that this wouldn’t happen, but after seeing how drunk Alex was, she knew it would come at some point during the night.

Alex sighed as she rested her forehead against her arm, mumbling that she was done, y/n stood up and flushed the toilet. Y/n helped Alex get up slowly, trying to not make her dizzy as she tried to stand still. Alex looked at y/n and told her she wanted to brush her teeth, so y/n helped get in front of the sink and got her toothbrush and paste out, preparing it for her and handing it to Alex. After she was done, y/n helped Alex get back to bed and helped her drink some of the water that y/n had brought for her. Alex then laid back in bed and sighed softly.

“Stay?” Alex whispered softly.

Y/n nodded as she crawled back in bed, wrapping her arms around Alex and smiling softly as Alex wrapped her arms around her middle again, feeling Alex’s breath against her neck. Right after, both women fell asleep again.

********************

Alex groaned loudly as she tried to stretch, groaning again as she felt her head pounding badly. She opened her eyes slowly and looked around her room, trying to figure out why her head was hurting that badly. As she slowly sat down, she turned to look at her nightstand and find a glass of water with some painkillers. She looked back around her room again and frowned. She took two pills and then decided to get out of bed, whining as she felt both her head and her shoulders heavy. She then went to the bathroom to wash her face and try to wake up a little more, and as she looked at herself in the mirror, the memory of last night hit her. Shit. She got drunk. She was with the squad, and she stopped counting her drinks. She got drunk. So drunk. And then it hit her again. Y/n. Y/n had seen her like this.

“Fuck.” Alex cursed under her breath as she walked out of the bathroom and out of her room. She slowly walked to the kitchen and stopped in her tracks as she noticed y/n in front of the stove, making breakfast.

Y/n turned her head and smiled softly. “Morning, Lexi.”

“Morning…” Alex whispered, not moving an inch, scared that if she moved, something would happen, or y/n would say something. But she knew they had to talk about last night. She needed to know what she did.

“Breakfast is almost ready. Sit down, I’ll get the coffee.” Y/n smiled as she turned her attention back to what she was doing.

Alex nodded softly and went ahead to sit on one of the stools, her eyes never leaving y/n’s. As she looked at her, she tried to figure out what had happened the night before. She remembered drinking and laughing with the squad. She remembered that they had asked about y/n, and then they started talking about something else, and that’s when she started losing count of her drinks. She remembered being in the car with y/n, making a fool out of herself, and then she remembered getting home. She remembered she had laid in bed, and she had asked y/n to stay. She remembered going to the bathroom and throwing up. But there was something missing, something happened before she woke up to go to the bathroom.

Y/n placed the plate in front of Alex along with her mug. “I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Alex looked at her and offered a small smile. “This looks delicious, thank you.”

“I know you love pancakes with bacon.” Y/n smiled as she grabbed a plate for her and went around the kitchen island to sit beside Alex.

Alex took a bite and smiled softly. She wanted to at least have a bit of food in her system before they started talking. She was sure y/n knew what had happened last night but maybe she was just acting nicely to not make Alex feel bad about it. Eventually, both women finished breakfast and just sat there with their mugs in hand. Alex kept trying to look at y/n, but she would stare back at her mug, wishing the coffee was endless.

“So…about last night.” Y/n started, looking at Alex. “Do you remember anything?”

Alex shrugged. “Not everything.”

Y/n nodded. “What do you remember?”

Alex sighed as she looked at y/n. “Being at the bar. I remember losing count of the drinks. I remember being in the car with you, and then getting home. It’s kind of blurry but I remember going to bed, I was…” she blushed slightly. “I guess I was being clingy, and I asked you to stay.”

Y/n smiled softly. “Yeah, you were cute.”

Alex huffed a chuckle as shrugged. “After that, everything is blurry. I remember getting up to throw up. And then I woke up.”

Y/n sighed as she looked back at her mug. “Got it.”

Alex frowned. “Oh, no. What did I do?”

Y/n looked back at Alex and chuckled softly. “Nothing bad, Alex. Just-“

“Something happened, I know something happened. But I cannot remember. And you know. So, what did I do?”

Y/n took a deep breath as she looked down at her mug again. She nibbled her bottom lip as she tried to put her words in order. “Well…at some point you…started mumbling. You said you were upset, and you wanted to tell me something, but you never did. And then…you uh…you started saying that you wanted to…kiss me.”

Alex closed her eyes as she looked away. “Oh, god.” She whispered softly.

“And you did.”

Alex snapped her head up, turning to look at y/n. “Y/n, I-“

“I kissed you back.” Y/n huffed a chuckle. “We basically made out.” She nibbled on her lip again as she tried to talk again. “I…I shouldn’t have kissed you back, Alex. I am so sorry.”

Suddenly, memories started to appear in Alex’s mind, sighing as she shook her head. “No, y/n…I shouldn’t have kissed you. I…I was drunk, and I was- god. I am so sorry.”

“I took advantage of you, Alex. I should’ve stopped you the moment you kissed me.”

Alex looked back at y/n and frowned. “But I kissed you. I took advantage of you.”

Y/n looked back at Alex. “I wanted you to kiss me.”

Alex’s breath hitched. “What?”

“I wanted you to kiss me.” Y/n shrugged as she looked away. “I had been wanting you to kiss me for so long…I…I got so lost in the kiss, I didn’t know what was going on until I figured out too late. And…I’m so sorry, Alex. I wished so badly for that moment to happen, and it happened, and I couldn’t help it. And then I wished that you’d remember, and you’d want to do it again, but sober. And I-“

“I do.”

Y/n looked at Alex, a hint of hope in her eyes. “You do?”

Alex smiled softly. “I was not upset at you. I was upset at myself because…I never told you that I had feelings for you, and then you started going on dates, and I thought it was too late.”

“I started going on dates because I thought I needed to get over you.”

Alex chuckled softly as she shook her head. “Please, don’t.” She smiled. “I want to kiss you. And I want to be with you. I am so sorry that I had to get drunk for me to tell you this, and that our first kiss had to be that way. I’d do things differently if I could.”

Y/n smiled, standing up and getting between Alex’s legs, her hands going to Alex’s cheeks and stroking them softly. “Then let’s have our second kiss.”

Alex smiled softly as she placed her hands on y/n’s waist and leaned in to kiss her lips softly. Even if y/n had to admit that last night’s kiss was everything, this had topped that kiss; it was everything she always imagined when she thought about kissing Alex. So tender, so sweet, so full of emotions, there was nothing left to say after the kiss, they were talking through it. Y/n couldn’t help but smile against her lips, breaking the kiss but staying in place, making Alex smile too.

“You know.” Y/n whispered softly, looking into blue eyes. “You’re very clingy when you’re drunk.”

Alex chuckled softly. “Please never let me get drunk again.”

Y/n chuckled as she kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll think about it. Because you were really cute.”

Alex rolled her eyes playfully. “I’ll be clingy, but I’ll never get drunk again.”

“Deal.” Y/n smiled and kissed her lips softly again.

#alex cabot x reader #alex cabot #alexandra cabot #svu fic #law and order svu #svu

[a-random-weeb]

HIIIII COULD I PLEASE REQUEST BSD MEN WITH A REALLY UNHINGED/ENERGETIC LOVER PLSPLSPLS I LOVE YOUR WRITING TYSMMMMM

Alright, that sounds really fun!

Characters: Dazai, Chuuya, kunikida

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

Dazai:

•You both actively get into trouble

•You two piss kunikida off like there is no tomorrow

•Both of you team up to absolutely destroy his sanity (sorry kunikida)

•He does worry about how unhinged you are sometimes

•Ome day you're both watching the news and it's like

"69 people died, very tragic"

•AND YOU JUST LOOK AT HIM WITH A WEIRD ASS FACE

"Hehehe, 69" 😭

•Bro looks at you like 'huh?!'

•He stays silent while probably trying not to laugh

•He knows you'll do anything he dares you to, so he always dares you to do the dumbest things

•You even made a whipped cream snowman in the ADAs toilet

Ranpo went to use the bathroom and screamed so loudly at the whipped cream that kunikida ran into the bathroom to see what was wrong. He immediately knew it was. He was not pleased. He sprinted to find you and Dazai's dumbasses, and then scolded you guys for an hour. Dazai and you definitely turned everything one of this sentences dirty

"He could have got scared and fell and hurt himself!"

"How do you know he's not into pain?"

‎•♡˚+‎・‎•♡˚+‎・‎•♡˚+‎・‎•♡˚+‎・‎•♡˚+‎・‎•♡˚+‎・‎•♡˚+‎・‎•

Chuuya:

•Hes so scared your gonna die 😭

•He never lets you out if his sight

•Yells at you for everything

•Though, he does find your energy very cute

•Hell never admit that though

•I think he probably highers a 'bodyguard', or so he calls it but they're more like a babysitter 😭

•Bro does not trust you

•He doesn't let you cook out of fear you'll burn yourself or stab yourself (I actually stabbed myself in the leg by falling on a knife. I'm not kidding, ask my roommate @ginandginny, it was gushing blood)

•He loves you too much to let you get hurt

•He also carries you everywhere, because if he doesn't you're probably off doing something weird

"No. Do not eat that knife. Do not attempt to." Chuyya says firmly after your friend dared you to eat the knife

"But I have to follow the rules of truth or dare"

"I didn't think you would actually try!" Your friend shouts, trying to defend herself

"Put. The. Knife. Down." He glares and prys the knife away from you. You try to grab it away from him, so he grabs you by the waste and holds you to him so you can't move, setting the knife down. You're flustered but have to much energy to freeze up, so you try get away, but if course he's 100× stronger than you. He chuckles and leans in for a kiss but then your friend clears there throat. You both feel embarrassed.

∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°

kunikida:

"That was irresponsible and immature"

"It wasn't THAT bad..."

"He was in forth grade!"

You stick your tongue out at him as he shoots you a glare. You had just beat up a kid over half a bag of skittles ←(Based off real events.... you don't wanna know, I promise I'm mature 😭). To be fair, the kid was rubbing the fact that he had candy in your face. Kunikida sighs "You're an idiot, do you want someone to call the cops on y-" you kiss him on the lips. Why? To shut him up and piss him off. He kisses you back and things get heated. I'll let you imagine the rest ;)

(What I meant by based off real events was when I was in grade 6, there was this grade 4 piece of shit who had half a bad of skittles, I asked for one and he said no, then proceeded to rub it in my face that he had skittles and I had nothing! I used to have worse anger issues than I do now, so I may or may not have beaten him up....)

-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-

I wrote headcannons and did a whole one for akutagawa but tumblr couldn't process my post for some reason so I just put what I remembered from the kunikida one, sorry

#bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai x reader #nakahara chuuya #skk #bungo stray dogs #bsd #BSD skk #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya bsd #bsd akutagawa #kunikida x reader #doppo kunikida #bungou stray dogs #kunikida bsd #kunikida doppo #chuuya #Kunikida #X reader #headcanon

[juuuulez]

📰 | part seven: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, father figure Negan my love, enemies to lovers/slow burn, kinda angst but not emotionally yet, graphic violence, attempted sexual assault, um this got kinda dark, also long.

summary: Once again, you are tasked with babysitting Carl, this time leaving Alexandria to find supplies. An unsuspecting attacker causes a rift in your feud.

eesh this is intense but also very succulent to write i LOVE LOVE LOVE some action!

also thank you all for 150+ followers!!! pls continue to send ideas to my inbox i’m absolutely eating it up <3

You’re really starting to get sick of this heat.

It’s sweltering, sticking your clothes to your skin, sweat patches running down your back and dampening the white tank you usually wear.

In favour of not being bitten, you wore the typical black jeans, which are doing absolutely nothing to combat against the unbearable heat.

Unfortunately enough, there isn’t any air conditioning in the Sanctuary, so you’d agreed to return once more to Alexandria with your father.

It had been a few days since your last impromptu visit, a week, actually. Though you’d previously been frazzled, irritated, you took the time to cool off and work through some pretty ugly emotions back at home.

Now, it was down to business, which meant giving strict orders to Saviours on where to check, what to take. Making sure everybody wrote things down, followed their routine.

“Woah, woah, woah! What do we have here?”

Your head snaps in the direction of Negan’s voice, who is standing at the gates, leaning against an old, beaten down car with the engine on. As you approach, the familiar outline of a sheriff’s hat comes into view through the rear window, and you almost want to turn away and forget you even saw anything.

“Now, I sure as shit hope you weren’t planning on leaving unsupervised.” Negan jousts at the teenage boy, still leaning against the passenger side.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where this is leading, and you shoot your father a tired little glare. “Can’t Dwight do it? Or, I dunno, anyone but me?” You plead, not exactly in the mood to be in a confined space with Carl once more.

For all you knew, he might swerve off the road to try and kill you.

Negan doesn’t let this slide, “Nope! You’re an excellent babysitter, doll. Best girl for the job.”

You bite your tongue against any sort of protest, still having not revealed the true extent of your last encounter with Carl. It would only cause unnecessary stress, you deducted.

At the beginning of this whole apocalypse, Negan had been cagey about letting you do just about anything. It only took a one bad incident to turn on his protective mode, and you felt like maintaining your freedom for a little longer.

“Fine.” You sigh, but instead of climbing into the passenger side, you skirt to the other end of the car. “Out, now. Leave the keys.”

Carl glares at you with an open mouth, clearly displeased about not only having his trip hijacked, but now being ordered around. “I can drive.”

“Don’t care. I’m not gonna risk you goin’ AWOL.” You tell him, unfortunately deadly serious, much to the boys’ dismay.

With an angry scoff, Carl departs from the drivers side, instead getting into the passenger chair. You sit down, leaning over to adjust the seat in order to ensure your feet would reach the peddles.

With Negan gone, having departed to keep a keen eye on the Saviours, you reach into your belt and pull a small handgun from the holster. This catches Carl’s attention, as he’s never seen you carry a gun before.

You hand it to him.

“One bullet,” You instruct, tone more serious than he’s ever heard from you. “Don’t fuck this up. It’s emergencies only. You’re lucky I don’t just let you die out there.”

He accepts it wordlessly, not wanting to push that very thin boundary.

The sweltering heat is worse in the car, harsh metal keeping the thick air inside, and you doubt it had any working cooling system.

Luckily, this proved to be less of a problem as you begin driving, the air whipping past your faces and offering a slight relief.

Carl gave you directions, but after the third instruction, you were beginning to get a little fed up.

“Why don’t you draw me a map?” You suggest, one hand on the wheel while the other brazenly fishes around in your back pocket, managing to pull out a small notepad. “Then I don’t need to listen to your voice.”

“What, like you can read?” Carl comments, a snide remark that contrasts the fact that he does take the notepad, flicking through pages in order to find an empty one.

His eyes are drawn to the little graphite sketches that adorn the pages, his thumb tempted to swipe the paper back and have a peek, but he resists.

A few moments later, and Carl hands the notepad back to you, which you hold in front of the wheel in order to get a good look. Your brows furrow, finger tapping against a strange looking blob.

“What’s this?”

Carl leans closer, brows pinched as he looks at the drawing. “A tree.” He says, as if it were obvious, despite the artwork being significantly less than professional.

“Okay?” You take your eyes off the road, giving the boy a confused, critical gaze. This only feeds into his temper, where Carl suddenly takes the notepad from your hands, drawing a few more scribbled lines on the so-called ‘leaves’ of his tree.

“So you know where to turn,” He specifies, like this would solve all of your problems, “At the end of the road. There’s a tree.”

You struggle to find your words for a moment, unsure how the simple action of drawing a map has just made this more confusing. “There are trees everywhere, dumbass. That isn’t helpful.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s a big tree,” Carl scoffs, throwing the notepad back onto the dash, opened so you can see it. “This wouldn’t be happening if you just let me drive.”

“Oh! Okay,” You turn to him, “I would have let you drive, had you not tried to shoot me. So, fairs fair, asshole. This is your fault.”

“I said I was sorry!” Carl retorts loudly, uncaring of how you’re no longer looking at the road, or about how fast the car is travelling.

You roll your eyes, “That doesn’t count. Murders don’t get let off scot-free just because they said two puny words.”

“That’s barely comparable!” He continues to push the conversation, all that pent up anger and frustration towards your adamancy against him starting to bubble up. “It’s not my fault that you’re, like, deranged or something.”

That was it.

You slam your foot on the breaks, sending the car skidding a few dangerous meters ahead. In that time, you brace yourself against the steering wheel, but Carl jolts uncomfortably against the seatbelt.

“What the fuck—”

“Get out.”

He looks at you like you’re actually insane, trying to decipher whether or not you’re being serious. But you only stare at him, glaring actually, jaw clenched in irritation.

“Get out!” You tell once more, needing Carl to get the message that you simply can’t be around him anymore. Not with all the arguing and bickering, it was getting on your last nerve, and you just needed some space to breathe.

With a huff, Carl obeys, but not without slamming the door shut. You run a hand raggedly through your hair, starting the car up once more and placing your foot on the accelerator.

“Fuck you!” Carl yells as you drive off, giving you the finger in hopes that you’ll see it in the rear view mirror. You probably didn’t, but it makes him feel a little better anyway, like he got the final word in.

But as the car disappears against the horizon, he’s left there, on the dusty road in that horrible summer heat. Sweat already sits on his nape, making his shirt uncomfortably sticky, and now he’s tasked with walking the rest of the way.

All because of your tantrum.

With the advantage, you make it to the abandoned gas station in record time. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far from where you’d ditched Carl, so you knew that he would be fine walking. You weren’t that cruel.

It’s relatively run-down, and you can only spot a few walkers mingling near the store’s back end. You keep your bat held tight, stalking through broken glass and tipped shelves to find anything of use. Whilst you don’t know what Carl had in mind for this trip, you could make a few assumptions, and managed to collect a small pile of minimal medical equipment, snacks, and even some baby food.

It was peaceful, actually.

Maybe a little too peaceful.

Slinging the bag of supplies over your shoulder, you approached the car once more, intending to drive the way back and pick Carl up along the way. He shouldn’t be too far off, at this point. You lean over, starting the ignition and popping the boot open, letting the supplies rest there.

But as you circle around, something catches your eye. A shiny glint on the ground. You poke it with your boot, only to realise that it appears to be a small razor blade.

Dread floods your system, and as you bend down to inspect the peculiar object, it hits you.

The tires, each one of them, have gone flat. Air completely let out, slashed. Unusable.

No escape.

You clench your jaw, rising to your feet once more, the metal bat still in hand. Someone was here. With what intentions, you didn’t know, but you could assume it wasn’t good.

Cautiously, you take a few steps backwards, towards the gas station. You watch the open space ahead of you, eyes steady on the treeline, inspecting for the most minute of movements that could betray the whereabouts of this potential attacker.

Except it doesn’t come from behind.

One steady thunk and your head is colliding with the concrete wall, to which the shock causes you to drop the baseball bat, one hand clasping the wall and the other digging your nails into the wrist of your attacker.

A firm hand has collected your hair, gripping onto your ponytail, fingers pressed into your scalp. You fight and squirm, but the body of a much larger man presses behind you.

With your stuff in the car, you can only imagine what he might want.

Despite this, you don’t scream, teeth clenched as you struggle to evade his grip. A harsh stomp to his foot assists your escape, where you’re able to land one solid punch square to the man’s jaw, before his leg swipes your balance out, sending you crashing to the concrete.

You almost twist onto your stomach, but the attacker is too quick, once again fisting your ponytail and slamming your face into the ground. One, two, three and you finally stop struggling as vigorously, blood and mucous caked all over your face, mixing in with chipped cement and dirt from the floor.

But the baseball bat is so, so close.

There’s one hand still in your hair, another on your back. Now waist, then stomach. Gross, burly fingers circling the button of your jeans.

A singular moment of weakness is all you need, where he’ll let his guard down, and you can leap for the bat.

Unfortunately, you know what form this weakness comes in.

You’re panting like a wild animal, trying not to squirm, carefully calculating your next move until suddenly there’s a loud pop then whistle that whirs past your ears, the sound almost making you flinch, before the weight of your attacker slumps against your body.

Crimson blood drips down onto your shoulder, coating your neck and back, the cold shock helping you regain enough consciousnesses to shuck the dead body from your smaller frame, scurrying out from underneath him.

The pavement is searing hot against your palms, you can even feel the burn through the thick material of your jeans. As you sit up on your haunches, looking around, you spot him.

Carl, crouched behind a few bushes, tentatively lowering the handgun.

One bullet.

As he begins to approach, you wipe some of the blood onto your arm, smearing the disgusting gunk further around your skin, which is still persistently dripping from your nose and mouth.

Gravel has surely made its way into the open wounds, but you do nothing about it. Not now, at least.

Carl approaches you slowly, putting the handgun back into his holster, and that genuine look of concern on his face makes you feel sick.

When he gets close enough, arms reach, you bristle and firmly shove him away, sending him stumbling a few steps backwards.

“The fuck did I say?!” You yell at him, directing all your rage and anger towards the corpse lying at your feet, back at Carl. “Emergencies only. What happens now, huh? I don’t have another bullet!”

He looks completely shell shocked by your outburst, not having accounted for such a reaction. But it doesn’t matter, as you’re still shouting, even as he stands there dumbly and watches.

“I had that under control!” You grunt, once again wiping at you nose, which runs with a mix of snot and blood.

When you garner no reaction from Carl, this frustration only continues to fester. You lean down to the ground, swiping up the baseball bat and clenching it hard in your palms.

You approach the body once more, and with one hefty swing, completely obliterate the man’s skull. Later, you would claim this was being proactive against potential walkers, but in the moment in was nothing more than revenge.

When you’ve entirely crushed the skull, you move on to the neck, spine, arms, torso. Anything. There comes a point where you’re no longer hitting to destroy any evidence of what happened, but hitting simply to feel some semblance of control. Blood spurts onto your jeans, some even reaching your tank, a darker colour that contrasts with the bright red of your own.

“Hey, hey. Cool it.” Carl is saying from behind you, and when you show no acknowledgment of his words, he reaches out to place a hand on your shoulder.

You shrug it off, but otherwise drop the bat, letting it clang harshly against the concrete, rolling a few feet away and leaving a gorey trail.

At this point, you try to clear your head, take stock of the situation. The tires are slashed, deeming the car useless. It was beginning to enter late afternoon, and though the days were hot, the nights were freezing. Not only that, but all this shouting has likely attracted whatever walkers you’d hoped to leave unsuspecting.

Finally, you spare a glance back at Carl, who’s been watching you this whole time. It looks like he’s on edge, waiting, ready for whatever you’re about to do, however irrational. A few specks of blood have made its way onto the sleeves of his flannel, where you realise how close Carl has been standing to you, even during the little outburst.

“Fine,” You mumble, answering his unspoken question. “No point heading back. Best push the car into some shade, camp out there for the night.”

Carl takes this as permission to contribute, though he still speaks to you with a level of cation. Mentally, you accept this as fear, but you know very well it’s actually concern. “I know the area pretty well. There’s a cabin not too far off, it was clean last time I checked.”

It’s reasonable, even if the idea of following Carl into the woods makes goosebumps rise on your skin. You’d rather not, especially now that he’d used the sole bullet, which you had none of on hand.

You chew on your busted bottom lip, nodding, accepting this makeshift plan. “Yeah, okay.” You sigh, almost sounding defeated, but nonetheless you pick the bat off the ground and stride back away from the gas station, not bothering to consult Carl any longer.

This was going to be a long night.

#carl grimes x reader #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #carl grimes #negan smith x reader #twd x you #carl grimes x you #negan smith #the walking dead