#...i suppose! probably not the right word

[atlabeth]

pretty boy

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer walks in one day with a new look. you handle it pretty well.

a/n: im in the opposite of a writing slump right now (will prob fall into a writing slump right after i say this) probably because im procrastinating on essays for school and i can only write when im meant to be doing work. but tiny little fluffy spencer one shots are very good for the soul right now. i think it's my way of healing from my hotch fic

wc: 1.8k

warning(s): one slightly sexual joke from emily. all fluff

You usually don’t get to the office this early, but you don’t exactly have a choice. The BAU’s last couple cases have all run one after another, barely leaving you any time in the office, and now you’re paying for it. 

You’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through and not nearly enough time to do it all—if you’re lucky, you’ll be writing reports for a few days straight. If you’re not, you’ll be putting in some overtime.  

“This is the most focused I’ve ever seen you this early,” Derek comments. 

You shake your head with a sigh. “These reports are government mandated torture.” 

He chuckles, and he nods at Emily as she walks over to her desk. “Are you this busy?” 

She shakes her head. “I’ve still got a report to get through, but nothing that bad.” 

“I get it,” you say wryly. “You’re all more organized than me. Just don’t come to me asking to go out tonight—you know I can’t say no.” 

“But don’t shots taste better when you’re supposed to be doing work?” Derek asks, and you roll your eyes with a laugh. 

“Not when I’ve got this much work I’m supposed to be doing.” 

You hear the elevator ding and glance up—Spencer’s walking through and fixing his tie. You look back down at your report as you greet him. 

“Hey, Spence,” you call. “Why’re you late?” 

“I’m not late,” he says, and you can see him checking his watch out of your peripherals. “I’m two minutes and thirty-three seconds early.” 

“Really?” you muse. “I guess I’m just so used to you being here before me.” 

“You can’t judge my timeliness on yours when you’ve been here for an hour already,” Spencer says. 

You frown, tapping your pen against the paper. “How do you know?” 

“You’re settled in already. Your coat’s on your chair, your stack of unfinished files is smaller than it was last time we were in the office, your coffee isn’t steaming, and your mug has a chipped handle—when they were put away last night, that one was set in the front, so you’d have to be here early to get it.” 

“Touche,” you murmur. You’re not sure why you ever ask your team of profilers how they know something. 

“You also look like you don’t want to be here,” he comments. “That’s pretty typical of agents who have to be here before their regular hours.” 

You chuckle and tilt your head in admission. You don’t really want to be here, especially running on so few hours of sleep. 

“Why aren’t you as early as usual?” Emily asks. 

“My neighbor knocked on my door this morning to ask me for something,” Spencer says. “It threw off my whole routine. I picked the wrong tie, I couldn’t pack my bag properly, and I had to toast my bagel for two minutes instead of three and a half to make it out in time.” 

“How terrible,” Derek says with mock austerity. 

“It is terrible!” he exclaims. “It’s scientifically proven that a morning routine makes you happier, more energized, and ready to seize the day—carpe diem.” Spencer sets his bag on the floor next to his desk and looks at everyone else with a smile. “Did you know that phrase was actually coined by the Roman poet Horace in his Odes? It comes from the first book out of four in the eleventh poem—the full phrase in Latin is carpe diem, quam mini—”

“How was your bagel?” Emily asks to interrupt him, and he pauses. 

“It was good,” he says. “Could’ve been toastier.” 

You look up, a teasing remark on the edge of your tongue, but the words die in your throat when you actually see him. 

Spencer’s started combing a hand through his hair to fix it—must have been another part of his affected morning routine—his lips set in a pout as he tries to see his reflection in his dark monitor. He always looks good, even without trying, but now—

“You’re wearing glasses,” you say dumbly. 

“My contacts dried out,” he grumbles, still focused on his hair. “We got home so late last night I forgot to put them in their solution, and I had no time to fix them because my neighbor messed up my whole morning.” 

You nod, still unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Are you gonna keep wearing them?” 

“I don’t know. Contacts are better for cases because I’m not worried about them falling off or fogging up, but I usually sleep on the jet on the way back, and sleeping with contacts in isn’t good.” He smiles a bit as he fully turns to you, seemingly satisfied with his hair. “It reduces the amount of oxygen that gets to your cornea, which damages the cornea’s surface and makes it harder to regenerate new cells. Sleeping with contacts actually makes you six to eight times more likely to get an eye infection.”

You nod again, your brain still not quite working at full power. You always love listening to Spencer’s fact dumps—it gives you a lot of material to impress your non-BAU friends with on the side, and you’re eternally thankful for that—but right now, you seriously cannot focus. 

You’d never really thought about him in glasses, but that’s probably a good thing if this is how it makes you feel. 

You were valedictorian as an undergrad, and you received stellar feedback from your professors during your masters program. You’re an excellent profiler, a valued member of the BAU, and you’re a goddamn FBI agent. 

And yet you can’t find a single thought in your head because your coworker showed up to work wearing glasses. 

He’s still rambling about other common causes of eye infection and how nobody seems to take them as seriously as they should, when Derek, not even trying to hide his grin at your turmoil, speaks up.  

“Reid. Wanna cool it a bit?” 

Spencer’s eyes dart over to him for a moment before he stops. “Uh— sorry.” He frowns as he looks back at you. “Why do you ask? Do you not like them?” 

“No,” you blurt out, and you shake your head a multitude of times. “No. They look great. You look great. They’re—” You dig your nails hard into your palm as you try your hardest to smile like normal, and this time you nod. “They’re good, Spence.” 

“Thanks.” Spencer does that little smile-nod combo of his, and he pushes his glasses back into place with his thumb by the bottom of the frames. “That’s nice to know I’ve got another option.” 

You thank whatever god may be out there that Hotch and Penelope are busy in their offices and JJ is busy with some other case, because you think you would die if anyone else saw you like this. 

“Hey, Reid,” Emily says, also not doing a very good job of hiding her amusement. You hate your team sometimes. “They’re almost out of sugar in the breakroom. If you want coffee the way you like it this morning, you should probably get in there.” 

“What?” Spencer shoots up, his brows already furrowing into a frown. “That— that’s ridiculous. I can’t mess up my morning any more.” 

“You’d better get in there, then,” she remarks. 

“We’re an entire office of agents running on coffee,” Spencer complains as he starts walking. “How are we almost out of sugar?” 

“Because half of ‘em drink it black,” Derek says, and Spencer shakes his head with a sigh as he leaves. 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

You bury your head in your hands the moment he’s gone and Derek laughs. “I wish I could’ve gotten that on video.” 

“Don’t talk to me,” you groan. “It is not fair of him to walk in like that.” 

“And that is why I call him pretty boy.”

“He needs them to see,” Emily says with amusement as she leans against the side of your desk. “You just can’t control yourself.” 

“I need to transfer offices,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t do this.” 

“You should ask him out!” Derek encourages. “He’d probably say yes.” 

“Absolutely not,” you insist. “I doubt he likes me like that. A— and even if he does, that’s the last thing either of us need right now.” 

“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “It looks like you clearly need something.” 

You let out a frustrated noise as you screw your eyes shut. “I’m doomed.” 

You hear Spencer say your name, and when you look over at him, one hand still pressed against your head, you see he’s got two cups of coffee in his hands. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say weakly. “I’m great. Why?” 

“I got you one too,” he says, holding one of the mugs out to you. “The one you have is probably cold by now, and it looks like you need an extra kick to get through all those reports.” 

“Thanks, Spence. That’s sweet.” He nods as you take the proffered mug, and you swear your cheeks are as warm as the coffee. He is really testing your strength today. 

“You— you have a lot,” he says, and you huff a dry laugh and nod. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I could take half of them if you want?” 

Your grip tightens on the mug and you can feel Derek’s eyes on you. “I couldn’t make you do that, Spence.” 

“You’re not!” Spencer exclaims. “I can get through mine really quickly—we worked together for almost the whole last case so I can do all of that anyways.” 

“...You’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?” 

“I’m sure,” he nods. “Besides, I offered. I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to.” 

And god damn him, because he nudges his glasses back into place again, pushes a strand of loose hair back into place. You’re dying over here. 

You set the mug of coffee on your desk and pick up the top half of your pile. “All yours, Spence.” 

He takes the bottom half and smiles at you, and you smile back before he walks back to his desk. You are dying over here. 

“Let me know how I can pay you back,” you say, and he shakes his head. 

“You don’t need to pay me back.” 

“Really?” 

Spencer nods. “I mean, Morgan invited us all out on the jet last night, and I don’t think I can do it alone. If you can get out of the office in time, I don’t have to. I think that's enough of a payback.” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll be there.” 

He smiles again and nods, then he picks up a pen and focuses in. You turn back to your desk, your face burning. 

“What was that about him not liking you like that?” Derek says. 

“Quiet!” you whisper-yell, swatting him with the pile of files in your hand. “He might hear you!” 

“He’s not hearing anything while he’s focused on that,” he says. “That just means you can ogle him more.” 

You groan again, letting your forehead fall into your palm. “I’m pathetic.” 

“I think you’re right.” Emily chuckles as she stands up. “You are doomed.” 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #x reader #sadie writes

[luveline]

Hi Jade!! I love your writing so much! you wrote a few fics of postprison!reid with kinda shy!reader like the one where she faints and I loved that dynamic and that Reid, do you think you could write some more? pls pls pls <3333333

cw non-consensual drug use /reader is spiked 

Spencer is quite gorgeous. He has a great smile, soft and a little shy without teeth, exuberantly bright like a commercial with teeth. He’s smiling like he can read your mind now, fishing for your hand, and taking it into both of his. Your pinky in one hand and your index the other, he wriggles your hand back and forth and laughs softly. “You don’t handle inebriation well.” 

“What?” you ask, startled. You can’t believe he’s touching you like this, casual, like he’s your boyfriend. Your hot boyfriend.

“You think I’m hot?” 

You squint at him. “What?” you ask. 

He covers your hand gently with both of his. “Nevermind. Do you want something to eat now?” 

“No.” You’ll throw up. Chunks, probably, your breakfast. And it wasn’t even a healthy breakfast. It was waffles and whipped cream and then a donut on the way to the office, Spencer will be able to tell, he’s too smart, he’s too everything. 

“I’m not that smart,” he says kindly. 

That’s a straight up lie. 

He laughs heartily, at odds with his quiet talking, and you’re so confused because it’s like he’s reading your mind? Can he read your mind? There’s so much stuff about yourself you don’t want him to know, your chest hurts thinking about it, you don’t want to tell him anything—

“I think I’ll go find you a hot chocolate,” Spencer says, the sleeve of his shirt falling down unbuttoned to his wrist as he stands. He pushes it back up. He is surprisingly underdressed today and you’ve no idea why. “Does that sound nice?” 

“I don’t think you should leave.” 

“I don’t want you to tell me stuff you don’t want to tell me,” he says. 

“But if you leave I’ll be by myself.” You sound strange to your ears. Crackly, like a garden fire.

Spencer perches himself on the hospital bed next to you. You’re sitting cross-cross on the tight white and blue sheets, waiting for something? Something was supposed to happen, you know that. A doctor was going to take your blood. You look down at the crook of your elbow to find they already have, a cotton pad medical-taped to the skin. 

“I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to go,” he says, taking your arm into his hands with the same care he’d shown your fingers. He lifts the corner of the tape and begins to pull it away from the direction it had been stuck in, stretching it, and removing it from you without any pain. 

“Where did you learn that?” you ask. 

Spencer holds your arm in his hand now the cotton ball is done. “Learn what?” 

You’re not interested in asking him again. Weirdly, your throat feels dry, but you won’t tell him because he’ll offer hot chocolate again and you don’t want him to go. 

“Hey,” he says, “not going anywhere until it wears off. Not if you need me.” 

How does he always know what to say? 

“You know, why don’t you get into bed and lay down for a little bit? You must be tired, sitting up. It’s so late.” His voice is a sheet of silk. 

“I thought we were going home?” you ask. 

“We can’t, bub,” —that’s a new one— “not for now. But we will tonight, I promise.” 

“Why not now?” 

He smiles sadly. “‘Cos you’re coming down, Y/N.” 

You frown. “Oh.” 

“I know.” Spencer wraps and arm around your back. “But you’re not alone.” He ducks in until your faces are almost touching. “You know? It’ll go away soon.” 

You don’t know why you say it, but you say, “You’re so nice to me. Even when you’re scary.” 

“Am I scary?” he murmurs. 

You look at him long and hard, feeling the warm rub of his thumb as he smooths a short line into your back. Spencer is intimidating, maybe, because you hadn’t known him when he got out of prison, and he's pretty like a model, or a movie star. But he isn’t scary. That’s not the right word. 

“No,” you say. “I guess not.” You pause. “I feel weird.” 

He doesn’t laugh like you, just hugs you tighter. “It’ll get better.” 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | teaser (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol consumption, curses

☆word count: 1.1k

☆a/n: teaser time babyyyy!! I hope you guys love it :') thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

The hour is late. Jungkook is tipsy, far more than he thought he’d get tonight, but then again, Taehyung is not in a better state, and Sera, Jimin’s girlfriend, had to force him to go home before they got too drunk.

They’re all supposed to help Taehyung’s little sister move in tomorrow, Jungkook included.

“Man,” Taehyung lets out, and Jungkook looks away from the game of Smash they’re playing - that he’s majestically losing - to focus on Taehyung.

“What?” he lets out.

“Can’t believe Y/n will be here tomorrow,” Taehyung answers.

“Can’t believe you’re forcing me to live with a girl.”

Taehyung chuckles. “Don’t worry, Y/n is chill.”

Jungkook doesn’t doubt she is, considering how well he gets along with Taehyung, and Taehyung’s made it seem that he gets along well with his sister. He imagines Y/n’s just going to be a mini Taehyung, which frankly could be fun to have around.

But he doesn’t know anything about her other than the fact that she is Taehyung’s little sister.

“You know,” Taehyung adds as the game finishes. “I meant to tell you something.”

Jungkook cocks his pierced eyebrow in question. “Yeah?”

“Just wanted to say that if you touch my sister, you’re fucking dead.”

Jungkook bursts out laughing, shaking his head, but Taehyung remains entirely serious. Like he meant what he just said - could he?

“You’re joking right?” Jungkook asks as his laughter fades away.

“No, I’m dead ass,” Taehyung insists. “You breathe in her direction, and you’re dead.”

“Damn.” Jungkook widens his gaze, and then picks up the beer he’s been slowly drinking since Jimin left. “Understood.”

Hell, Jungkook knows that he sleeps around. Taehyung does the same - he can’t help but understand Taehyung when he says to stay away from his sister. And he thinks it’ll be easy. Y/n’s probably just going to be a clueless baby college kid, and though Jungkook doesn’t mind going for younger, he’ll have plenty of new faces to explore once Frosh week starts next week anyways.

So he promises Taehyung he has nothing to worry about, and they play a couple more games before they head to bed.

Jungkook wakes up early the next morning, the sun shining right in his face the most efficient alarm he’s ever used before. He wants to go to the gym before helping Taehyung’s sister, and though he hates being awake so early, he immediately forces himself to get up lest he falls back asleep.

His workout goes well, and he’s pleasantly sore when he heads back home. He’s lucky - he manages to park not too far from the apartment. He’s walking home, gym bag in one hand and his phone in the other, when Taehyung texts him to ask where he is.

Jungkook types ‘Fuck off’, pressing send as his attention is solely on his phone.

Until said phone flies out of his hand as he collides with a girl he didn’t notice, and Jungkook watches in horror as the device falls in a flower bed.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you say, and you immediately dive into the flower bed, retrieving Jungkook’s phone. 

You hand it to him, and Jungkook just stares at you, mouth agape. He’s aware he’s staring and that he probably looks stupid, but he’s dumbfounded.

You’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot.

“Don’t worry about it,” he answers quickly when you cock an eyebrow, your cheeks slowly turning red. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“At least it didn’t break,” you say, and you flash him a quick smile.

It does things to his heart that Jungkook barely comprehends - it’s like his heart is going miles a minute, yet it’s soothing, warm, much like the pavement feels in the summer when the sun has just dipped below the horizon.

“Right, yeah,” Jungkook answers, and his cheeks burn.

His cheeks fucking burn, and he wishes he could just disappear, dive below the ground until you can’t see him anymore. You just keep on smiling, eyes never disconnecting from his, and he wonders if you, too, feel like he does.

Shit, he thinks he might even hear bells in the distance.

You glance away, and it’s like he’s falling forward while not moving at all, and all he can do is pathetically clear his throat, as if that’s going to offer any help.

“I see you’ve met Y/n!” Taehyung yells from behind you, and Jungkook freezes.

Jungkook freezes, and then something burns in his lungs, like he’s under the surface struggling for futile oxygen he knows he won’t find.

You are… Taehyung’s sister.

You’re Y/n.

His best friend’s little sister.

The one thing Jungkook can’t have.

It makes him feel cold, his heart suddenly dropping in the Arctic sea amongst the icebergs. 

“We literally ran into each other,” you say, looking back towards your brother.

And Jungkook sees it - your hair is the same shade as Taehyung’s, your face has the same shape. The smile though - your smile is different from Taehyung’s, and maybe that’s why he was fooled.

Fooled for a few seconds which felt like an eternity.

You walk away then, heading to the open back door of a car. You grab a box, and Jungkook puts his phone in his pocket, eyeing a bag on the backseat.

“Do you want me to bring this in?” he asks.

Only because he wants you to look at him again. His heart flutters in his chest when you do, and he forces it down with a swallow as you nod once.

“Yes, please!”

Jungkook nods too, and he grabs the bag before following you in. His right foot lands on the first step leading to the apartment when Taehyung stops him with a hand on his arm.

Jungkook frowns slightly, meeting his best friend’s gaze.

“I’m serious, JK,” Taehyung says through gritted teeth. “You fucking touch her, you’re dead.”

And Jungkook knows right then and there that he’s fucked. Entirely, thoroughly, immensely fucked.

Because he already wants you, and he hasn’t even talked to you for more than twenty seconds.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures Taehyung, and he hopes Taehyung can’t hear how fake he sounds.

How is he supposed to resist indulging in you when he already knows you’re all he’s ever wanted? 

He really is entirely, thoroughly, immensely fucked.

☆☆☆☆☆

Chapter one coming on May 10th, 2024!

What did we think? Are we excited to read?? Let me know here!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

Taglist: (strike-through means dumblr isn't letting me tag you)

@jjkluver7 | @lavender2ari | @srslythis-ismylife | @starlight-1010 | @mggv97

@cookysstuff | @02010802 | @kookieleshgo | @biaswreckersinc | @hera19

@ice | @nightapple | @jungkussyficrecs | @boyfriendtaekook | @montyfbaybee

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@ll4l | @kissyfacekoo | @ggukiepie | @moon-gyi | @apples0-0

@jcrl99 | @iammeandmeisiam | @kookoo-kachoo | @marvelbun | @lalaren

@sugas-baby-girl | @glossminmin03 | @kocoreads | @carriereadsbooks | @aiiselle90210

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@tulips4u | @jinniejax | @chimmisbae | @sumzysworld | @imene_ghd

@gguksflowers | @sadgirlroo | @kissme-ornot | @mar-lo | @kazkookiekazookie

@infiresyg93 | @junggukjeonfreakinwife | @sweet-pinee | @chimchimmarie | @pamzn

#chasing cars teaser #chasing cars #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #btswritersclub #jeon jungkook #chasing cars series

[beskarandblasters]

A Twisted Fantasy

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cooper Howard Masterlist

Summary: You masturbate while thinking about your encounter with the Ghoul.

Word count: 750

Warnings: reader refers to him as the Ghoul, reader is able-bodied, Cooper might be a little OOC but fuck it we ball, masturbation, allusions to smut, pet names (sweetheart), light canon typical violence, no use of y/n

Late at night, under the cover of the trees and the night sky, you think about him– the Ghoul. 

You don’t know his name. But you don’t need to. All you know is that ever since you saw him weeks ago, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. It’s an unfortunate chain of events. You had pissed off the wrong crowd in Filly, owing them bottle caps you most definitely didn’t have.

And for that, a bounty was placed on your head. That’s when the Ghoul came into your life. But only for a fleeting moment.

You were walking the streets after dark, already a bad idea. A hand enclosed around your wrist as you were dragged into a dark alley, followed by the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of your head. 

“It’ll all be over real soon, sweetheart. Be a lot easier if you didn’t resist either.”

“Please no-” you started to beg. 

“I’ll have you know.. they didn’t care if you were brought in dead or alive.”

“Sir, please. I don’t have any bottle caps. I can’t-”

He spun you around you were facing him. His appearance didn’t scare you. You had encountered Ghouls before. But he was different. 

He had a voice so sultry it made you melt, knees buckling underneath you. The brim of his hat hung low, covering his eyes. You were backed up against a wall, cool metal chilling your burning skin. A weird mixture of fear for what’s come and arousal coursed through your body. His gun moved to your temple while his other hand pinned your hands above your head. Fuck. 

Tears welled up on your lash line, threatening to spill over. It wasn’t long before they finally rolled down your cheeks in an unstoppable flow. 

“Please, sir. I don’t have anything.”

“Nothin’?” he asked, his eyes finally meeting yours as he cocked his head to the side. 

You shook your head no, crying harder at the feeling of his gun against your head. 

He looked conflicted, eyes betraying the words he was saying. 

“Look, sweetheart… A job’s a job.”

You cried and stuck out your lip, hoping and praying for a shred of mercy. You’re a crying, pathetic mess and maybe he’ll sense that. He sighed and cursed under his breath, looking away from you and at the ground instead. 

“I suppose I could say you ran off… That I need to track you down again…”

“Really?” you asked, your face lighting up. 

“Maybe but only if you do exactly as I say.”

“Anything,” you nodded as he lowered his gun. 

“Run as far as you can away from here,” he said, letting go of your hands. 

You waited for further instructions but he shouted, “I said run!” shooing you off. “Unless you want me to change my mind.”

“No, sir!” you squeaked, running as fast as you could out of Filly. 

You were thankful he spared your life but for some reason, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You replayed every time he called you sweetheart in your mind. It didn’t help that he looked just like a fucking cowboy, accent and all. 

And now here you are, fingers deep in your cunt, thinking about the Ghoul. You wish he were here right now, watching you please yourself. Or better yet… you wish he were making you feel good instead. 

You imagine he’d talk you through it, praising you for being such a good girl, telling you how good you take his fingers or his cock. You think about his pleasure and how long it’s probably been since he felt any. You’d take care of that for him, making him curse under his breath like he did that one night in the alley. You’d do anything he wanted if it meant he’d call you sweetheart again. 

God, how twisted is this? You’re fantasizing about a mutant who had the power to take your life right there and then. But that adds to the allure, to the fantasy. You’d pretend to be his bounty any day of the week, letting him whisper in your ear as he fills you up. 

Before you know it, you cum around your fingers. Waves of pleasure rush through your body as you bite your lip to muffle your moans. The disappointment of the situation settling in now. The Ghoul’s not here and you’re alone. You roll over and sigh, silently hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’ll cross paths again one day. 

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

Part two

#the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul smut #cooper howard smut #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x fem!reader #the ghoul fanfiction #fallout fanfiction #fallout

[swordsandholly]

def need more ditzy reader with mechanic 141- the only thing that tops my love for military men is blue collar boys <333

make sure to take care of yourself tho lovie!! don’t burn urself out :))

I for sure want to write more of her. Hopefully after this insane week at work I’ll be able to really sit down and crank out some writing. For now I’m battling my way through Ch 3 of Across the Way

But pls enjoy this little not proofread experimental snippet I wrote for ditzy reader

“Look.” Your landlord sighs loudly. Like you’re the one inconveniencing him. “I’ll send someone out.”

“That’s what you said two days ago! And three days before that!” You stomp your foot at no one just to get some of the anger out.

“I’ll get to it when I get to it.”

“Why can’t you-“ The line cuts before you can finish. The jerk hung up on you! What the hell!

You pout, plopping down into your desk chair and sighing. What are you supposed to do? You’re not allowed to call a handyman according to the lease and you don’t have a boyfriend right now. You can’t keep washing pans in the bathroom. It’s gross.

You huff.

“Alright?” Simon asks and you whirl in your chair. How does he walk so quietly?

“Yeah…” You pout harder under his steady gaze, slipping down further into the chair.

“You’re a terrible liar, luv.” His eyes crinkle in corners with a smile.

“Well…” You shrug, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. “My kitchen sink has been broken for a whole week and the landlord won’t do anything about it! I called and called and he just keeps saying he’ll send someone and then doesn’t!” Your voice pitches at the end, real annoyance bleeding through into the edges of your words. You fist your hands in your skirt.

“That’s all?” He raises an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you just ask one of us?”

You blink twice, staring up at him. Your face heats and you look away bashfully - not wanting to admit you didn’t think to ask for their help. Stupid. “I don’t want to be a bother…”

“I’ll come by after work.”

“You don’t have to-“

“I’ll be there.” He nods before marching back into the garage. You just blink after him as he goes.

True to his word, Simon shows up at your door with a massive tool box in hand. Really, he still can’t believe you live in such a shit complex. Price pays you well enough. The locks might as well be paper-mache. Simon lowers his mask before knocking. He trusts you with his face - hell you probably forget it every time you look away - but he also wants you to trust him too. For whatever reason.

You’re staring when you open the door. Big doe eyes looking up at him and blinking slowly. He wonders what goes on behind those blank eyes of yours - if it’s nothing at all or such a chaotic dialogue that you can’t process it enough to pay attention.

All or nothing.

“Gonna let me in, doll?” He asks. You startle, not realizing how intensely you zoned out.

“Oh! Yes!” You jump out of the way, letting him into your small studio apartment. Every time he thinks your shorts can’t get smaller he’s proven wrong.

Simon takes a look around, huffing at the net full of stuffies hanging on the wall. Everything about your home is soft - soft colors, soft fabrics. It smells like vanilla, just like you always do when you come into the shop. His eyes lock briefly on a well-loved sewing machine covered in stickers with a project still under the needle. You must have been working on it before he got here.

Did you mean to leave your bra hanging on the back of that chair right by the kitchen? Lacy and lilac. He’ll have to remember that for some other time. Maybe your birthday.

“Let’s ‘ave a look.” He sighs, knees popping as he crouches in front of the sink. It’s a fucking mess, that’s for sure. At least you figured out how to turn the water off.

“Pipe’s busted.” He says. “I can seal it but it’ll take a sec.”

“Okay.” You murmur.

Simon sighs as he turns onto his back to get a better look. He doesn’t miss the way you stare blatantly at his midsection as his shirt rides up. He might adjust some to expose just a bit more.

You really are the least subtle thing in the planet, aren’t you?

“Can you come hold the light f’me, luv?” He points to the toolbox.

“This one?” You ask, as if it isn’t the only flashlight in the box.

“Yeah.”

“Like this?”

“Yup.” At first he expects you to sit silently so he can concentrate, but he quickly realizes that was far too presumptuous.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Si?” You ask quietly.

He huffs. “No.”

“Oh.” You chew your lip. “You seem like the kind of guy that would.”

Simon has never heard a bigger misread in his damn life but he’ll take it as a compliment, he supposes. “Why do you ask?”

“Cause this is boyfriend work and you’re good at it.”

Simon tries to see your logic - he really does - but he just has no clue how those things are even remotely related. Sure, guys fix things for their girlfriends but calling it ‘boyfriend work’ when anybody with two cents could do it is a bit silly. More than, if he’s honest. He just grunts in response, at a total loss for how to respond.

Simon looks down at you. The way you kneel as your cleaving spills out of your tiny tank top - one of many you insist on wearing so often. He can give into temptation just a little bit, right? “Gonna need you to get closer, doll.”

“Oh!” You scoot forward until your knees brush his side. So ready to listen. Cute.

“Can you lean in a bit?”

“Like this?” You lean forward, chest pressing against him while your hand splays over his midsection for balance. Fucking hell.

“Perfect. Good girl.”

It’s bold and a bit uncoordinated even for him. Something Johnny would try. The purposeful choice of words seems to go right over your head. Instead you blush and smile, shifting your hips just a bit. Your chest pushes further into him. So soft.

Fuck.

You’ll be the death of him. Thank god you’re too unobservant to notice that he’s rock fucking hard.

He’s already done with the sink by the time of this little exchange, but he pretends to tighten some useless bolts anyway just to keep you against him a little longer before shooing you away. It’s cute, the way you scramble to get out of the way. Simon turns the water back on before standing, and gesturing toward the sink.

“Give it a try, luv.”

A little furrow forms in your brow as you step forward to turn it on, crouching and standing to make sure the leak has stopped. You turn the faucet off and whip your head around with a grin.

He’s pretty sure you burst an eardrum with the pitch of the squeal you let out, bouncing over and tightly wrapping your arms around his waist. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“It’s no pro-“ he cuts off as you push up onto your tip toes and press a kiss to his cheek. He can’t help but bark out a laugh. Little minx.

“Oh, I got some lipstick-“ You reach up to smudge it off but he bats your hand away. He’ll wear it back to the garage and show off the kiss he got. Johnny’s going to absolutely fume.

#answered #simon ghost riley #call of duty #ghost cod #cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod #simon x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #fem reader

[hottestvirgin]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 | 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐁𝐈𝐍

what started with matching with your best friend’s older brother on tinder lead to countless weekend nights of sneaking into his bedroom.

warnings(17+). mentions of anton and sex.

it wasn’t supposed to happen. you had tried to convince yourself that a million times til’ it started sounding like a broken record. matching with your best friend’s older brother on tinder wasn’t supposed to happen, and it was not coincidental.

you had created a tinder account just to see what type of men you’d realistically be able to pull and after a few swipes, left and right, you and wonbin have liked each other.

you and him were a match. your stomach churned when realization hit, staring at his profile in shock.

well.. it was him. his name printed brightly on your screen with his age next to it. that same fine, blonde-haired man in the pictures who had a few of his interests listed down below. shopping, guitar, dancing.

you had wondered if his thumb hovered over the send a message icon like yours had that night. you’ve always found wonbin attractive, physically and his personality.

but a part of you felt guilty every time anton came into mind when you’d think about your feelings for wonbin. how would you even be able to explain that you matched with his brother on tinder.. or that you were on tinder in the first place.

but that lingering thought didn’t seem to go far because you both ended up clicking the button and began chatting, bonding over the mere coincidence of you both finding each other on a dating app.

and ever since that night, you’ve been hooking up with him. it was hard going to the brothers’ shared apartment just for wonbin, so you had made a routine.

weekly hangouts. meaning you and anton would watch movies or play games every weekend until he fell asleep, and you’d sneak into wonbin’s bedroom.

you felt the couch dip next to you, “don’t eat up all the popcorn.” anton told you, sitting criss-crossed as he playfully snatched the bowl of popcorn from your arms.

“then pee faster next time.” you told him, clicking play on the horror movie you both had started earlier.

it was getting late and as time continued to pass, you could sense anton’s tiredness. he would doze off next to you, head falling back occasionally.

you’d wait for the right opportunity to help him lie down and pull the blanket you shared with him onto his body entirely. you wouldn’t need it anyway because you were already heading down the hallway to wonbin’s door.

you could hear faint music playing, probably playing from his late night playlist. you twist the doorknob slowly, walking into his room.

wonbin’s on his bed, putting stickers on his guitar when he met your eyes, a small smile immediately creeping onto his lips.

without saying anything, you watched as he peeled back a sticker, sticking it onto his electric guitar. something about the image of him with the guitar had turned you on even more.

you remembered all the times where he would sit you down and play his guitar for you, showing you different songs he learned how to play.

“you need something?” wonbin asked, applying pressure to the sticker once more before giving you his full attention. he had that stupid smile on his face and it took everything in you not to kiss it off of him.

“nope. just wanted to say goodnight.” you shrugged your shoulders and turned on your heels to leave but he cleared his throat.

“i was just playing,” wonbin chuckled again, pushing his guitar from his lap, “c’mere.” your stomach churned at his words and you immediately hauled at him, taking a seat on his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“i missed you.” you admitted. and it was almost instant how he pulled you into a kiss. your lips were soft against his, pillowy as his fingers lingered on your waist.

you missed him; his smell, his touch, his scent, his voice, everything.

warmth blossomed in your chest again, and again. and when he pulled away to look at you, the warmth consumed your entire body. “show me how much you missed me.” he told you.

and you did. because in an instant, you were on top of him, gripping onto his shoulders as you rode his cock as if it would be the last time you’d ever see him.

he was soooo deep in you, hitting spots you’d never imagine. you could feel him in your stomach and each movement of your hips had wonbin whimpering underneath you, fingers digging into your waist with hitched breaths.

your mind is so fuzzy that all you can think about is how much he’s stretching your dripping cunt and getting filled to the brim with his cum. wonbin’s mouth is agape, silent moans falling past his lips that’s glistening with his drool.

“bounce.. make me cum.” he mewled, biting back his bottom lip, eyes never leaving your squinted ones. planting your feet into the mattress, you comply with his request, clenching around him hard, bouncing on his cock and earning more whimpers from him.

he looked so pretty— collarbones more prominent from his heavy breathing, cheeks red with some of his blonde bangs sticking onto his forehead. it was so hard to stay quiet knowing that your best friend was sleeping just down the hallways but how could you stay quiet when he’s filling you so deliciously?

“feels so good.. sososo good.” you groaned quietly, and wonbin nuzzled his face into your sweaty neck, that familiar knot in his stomach struggling not to snap. “k-keep using me. fuck, keep fucking me.” he moaned, sucking pretty little marks onto your neck.

the desperation in his voice was enough to push you over the edge. “wonbin.. m’ cumming..” you moaned, you’re hips stuttered as your walls spasmed around him, body shaking as you cream all over his cock.

it felt as if the earth shattered on its axis from how hard your orgasm hit you, and your body goes numb while you catch your breath. wonbin pulled your body into his arms, thrusting into your limp body to chase his own orgasm.

drinking in your trembling form, body shaking with small whines, wonbin couldn’t hold back anymore. “s’good, f-fuck, i’m close..” he whined, body stilling. and he spills his load into your aching cunt.

both of you stayed like that for a while. and you couldn’t help but thank tinder for getting you the best dick in your life.

a/n. very short very simple.. yeah

#hottestvirginwrites #smut #kpop smut #riize hard thoughts #riize hard hours #riize smut #wonbin #wonbin x reader #wonbin x you #wonbin smut #park wonbin smut #wonbin drabbles #riize x reader

[rebelliousstories]

Not Like The Movies

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Violence

Word Count: 1,688

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: How Cooper got landed with someone of her sunny disposition, he will never now. And it does not help that she knows his films.

“Good morning, you cutie. Oh who’s the best little girl ever?” A feminine voice brought Cooper out of his deep slumber. His eyes had to adjust to the bright light outside that flooded the building they had stayed the night in. He looked around for the source of the noise and was relieved to see it was just his partner playing with DogMeat. The man sat up from the bed that was miraculously in the building that probably used to be someone’s house and began to roll the sleep from his muscles and bones.

“Well, good morning to you, cowpoke.” She greeted, allowing the dog to roam around wherever she pleased.

“Mornin’ sweetheart. Whatcha doin’ up this early?” He asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His boots hit the floor right next to where his partner was, as she sat up on her knees to pull him in close. Physical affection was something Cooper was still not used to after all this time, but he was slowly coming around to it. All of the affection happened behind closed doors, or in this case, a closed house. He still had an image to maintain after all.

“Couldn’t sleep, so I spent some time with Bella.” She said cheerfully into his chest. Cooper just sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“Don’t go naming the thing. Then you’ll get too attached and then you’ll be depressed when it dies.” He groaned out, shifting their bodies so their eyes met.

“But she can’t be named ‘DogMeat’. That’s not a proper name,” came her cry. She laid on the puppy eyes really thick.

“DogMeat is a proper name because that’s what it is.” He argued back, tilting her head up by her chin.

“Fine,” she relented, and smushed her face back into his chest. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Well, gotta head into town now. Stock up on some supplies, gather a new bounty hopefully.” Cooper pressed a kiss to her hair, and shuffled so that he could pull both of them up to stand.

“You gonna behave when we get into town?” He drawled, voice leaning into dangerous territory. His partner giggled and nodded her head.

“Of course, Coop. When am I not?” She inquired, biting her lower lip. That woman knew the easiest way to get Cooper riled up was to do just that motion right there. Because, in an instant, his eyes were locked on to her lips.

“What about back in Filly where you kept smilin’ at folks, leaving me to save you from someone’s fist in your face? Huh?” Howard recalled, watching her shift in his arms as she, too, recounted their last adventure into town.

“How was I supposed to know?” Her whimper made Cooper weak, but he had a job to do today.

“Just tone down the sun a little bit, alright? Maybe a nice cloudy day instead of bright ass sunshine.” He offered, bringing her face back up to his. She nodded and stood on her toes to reach his face. Cooperate, ever the gentleman, met her halfway and locked their lips together. They moved as one, letting their lips slide across the other’s. Hands roamed freely, and it was starting to look like they were not going to be making it to town soon. That is, of course, until DogMeat came back in the room with a dead iguana in her mouth. She dropped it on the floor, and pawed at the man and woman who were locked in their embrace. The Ghoul groaned as his partner detached them in favor of tending to the dog he claimed he did not want.

“Good girl. Such a good hunter.” The baby voice was back. Seeing that the dog was getting the attention now, Cooper moved to grab all of his effects from where they were strewn about the room. His duster sat upon his shoulders, while his hat found its spot on his scarred head.

“Come on. Let’s get goin’.” He stated definitely. His saddle bag was slung across his shoulder, and his hand helped navigate his partner through the abandoned house.

They began their trek into town, which thankfully was not too long of a walk. DogMeat followed on the other side of Cooper, hot on his heels. He kept his eyes peeled as they drew further and further into the town. There was a pharmacy, a trader’s hut, several food stalls, and even a mechanics repair shop. Plenty for the two of them. Turning to his partner, he passed her some caps and pointed towards a couple stalls.

“Go get you some dried meat, and get a box of ammunition. Don’t smile so much, alright?” Cooper stressed. She nodded in return and patted his arm as she left with DogMeat.

The Ghoul made his way into the trader’s hut first to find a new bounty that was around. Thankfully, the woman behind the counter had one, and it was simple enough. Someone had not paid her what she was owed, and now she had a hat out on the man. He accepted half of the caps upfront, before moving on to the pharmacy next door. Cooper’s eyes caught his partner and DogMeat traversing the stalls, already having several pouches of meat in her bag.

Which is why he was not afraid to leave her alone while he took his time getting his chems from the pharmacy. Being a ghoul certainly had its drawbacks; the stares, reputation, and fear. But it also held some positives; the stares, reputation, and fear. It certainly helped when acquiring what he needed for a reasonable price. A commotion caught his ears from outside, but he was not afraid that it was his partner.

Until he stepped outside. Cooper saw his partner being crowded against a pile of sheet metal while DogMeat kept barking up a fuss. The dog ran over immediately to the man and began to drag him by his duster over to the woman.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t play hard to get.” Some man crept into her space, making her cower down even further. Based on what he could see, and the description the trader gave, this must have been the bounty. She did mention that he tended to go where he pleased like he owned it all.

“Please. Let me go.” She whimpered. Her voice was full of fear and worry, and Cooper was not about to let that stand.

“Everyone’s got a price. I can pay whatever your price is.” He continued, placing his hand on the woman’s waist.

“I do believe the lady asked you to let her go.” Cooper finally made his way over. The man turned around, and smiled with blackened teeth.

“Don’t worry, Ghoul. Once I’m done with her, I’m sure you can have a turn. Certainly don’t wanna do it the other way around.” He laughed, as if what he said was the funniest thing in the world. Cooper began to chuckle lowly as he peeked his eyes out from the lip of his hat. Catching his partner’s eyes, she felt relief as she saw her savior in western gear.

“See, she might be bein’ nice and askin’ you to let her go. But I ain’t that nice. So now I’m tellin’ you to let her go. Now.” Cooper growled, feeling his patience wear thin.

“Or what, Ghoul?” The man never got to hear another response. In a flash, Howard had aimed his gun and fired on his legs. Blowing both of them off, the not-so-tough man now crumbled to the ground, screaming and crying, pleading for the ghoul to have mercy on him.

“Well, ain’t that some shit.” The Ghoul growled, tying a rope around the torso of the man, and began to drag him to the trader’s hut. He focused on the task at hand, knowing that DogMeat would take care of anyone else that had dared get close to her owner.

Walking out of the trader’s hut, Cooper’s eyes scanned the town as he tried to find her partner. He found her, hugging her lugs, stuck in the same place that she was being held. DogMeat was chowing down on the legs that were left. His pocket felt heavy with the weight of the caps, but all that mattered now was taking care of her.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” Howard held a hand out for her to grab onto, and she did. Eagerly shoving her face into his chest and letting out a shaky breath as she processed the events that had just unfolded.

“I’m good. Can we go please?” Her words were muffled in his shirt, but he understood them plenty. Calling for DogMeat, Cooper led the three of them out of the town and into somewhere more secluded. Once they were there, tears fell from her eyes as the weight of what happened fully caught up to her. He set her down on something resembling a chair, and squatted down in front to check her over.

“You saved me.” She whispered, letting her partner do what he needed to do.

“Course I did. What’d you expect? Me to leave you with that man?” He countered with a ridiculous tone.

“It’s like one of your old sheriff films.” Her giggles matched his groan as he dropped his head.

“This ain’t the movies, darlin’.” Cooper looked up at her.

“It’s kinda like the movies.” She replied, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to bring him in close.

“I can always take you back to that town and leave you there.” He stated in her shoulder. She giggled again.

“That’s not very sheriff-y of you.” Every time he thought he had won, she proved him wrong.

“Alright,” he stood up and took her with him, “let’s get moving. Maybe if we’re lucky we can find another house to sleep in.”

“Ooo, do you think we could find one with a television and a few films?” She teased, already walking off away from town. Cooper groaned, but caught up to her and kept her underneath his arm as they walked away from that town.

#rebelliousstories #writing #cooper the ghoul howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x oc #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #fallout imagine #fallout

[momojedi]

Could I have #88 and #97 with Captain Rex, pretty please...??

JUST MARRIED PAIRING: Captain Rex x GN! Reader

#88 | “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…” #97 | “I want you and I know you want me too.”

GENRE: Fluff WARNING: none A/N: Since I got prompted #88 by an anon who asked for no one in particular, I mixed up your request with theirs. Thanks for requesting!

MASTERLIST | MOMOJEDI'S 300 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

"Mhi solus tome,

Mhi solus dar’tome.

Mhi me’dinui an,

Mhi ba’juri verde."

Intense concentration furrows my brow as I massage my temples, striving to translate the unfamiliar words. "For fuck's sake," I mutter, frustration punctuating each syllable as I kick a nearby pebble with surprising strength, eliciting a muffled groan and the metallic clang of beskar as it ricochets off a distant helmet.

Two weeks may not seem long, especially when operating undercover among a terrorist faction whilst the galaxy is engulfed in war. It would probably be advisable to keep a cool head and avoid making a big deal out of insignificant subjects—such as unfamiliar phrases. However, when those words escape the lips of your longtime crush, delivered with an unexpected fervor while locking passionate eyes with you in a language foreign to your ears...

Well, needless to say, I've devoted more time to overthinking it than I care to admit.

When General Skywalker tasked us with shadowing Death Watch until the Jedi Council reached more intel, I hadn't given it much thought... admittedly, he hadn't specified that by "us" he didn't mean Ahsoka and me, as usual, but rather the captain of the 501st and myself—the very someone I've harboured feelings for since the day we met.

Nevertheless, I maintained my composure, played my part, and stayed under the radar, much like Rex, until Death Watch proposed an elaborate ceremony—a ceremony whose name I could barely pronounce, let alone understand its significance. Before any suspicion could arise, Rex quickly agreed in my place, and now here I am, entangled in some eerie ritual with a military captain whose gaze seemed entranced, so intense was his focus.

"If I had my datapad right now...," I hiss under my breath, casting blame on whoever decided I should leave my sole translation device behind. Likely Skywalker.

The crunch of gravel under heavy boots interrupts my daydreaming. I spin around sharply, only to find the very man haunting my mind approaching. "I figured I'd find you here," Rex hums as he settles beside me. "Yeah," I reply with a dry laugh, brushing the dust off my hands. "Sorry, I suppose I just needed... alone time. After everything yesterday, you know?" Rex's eyes widen almost comically, and he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. "Oh... yeah."

The ensuing silence gnaws at my nerves, prompting me to pop the question after another agonising five minutes. "Hey, about that... what did those words mean, anyway?" "I'm not sure what you're referring to," Rex responds, avoiding my gaze. I gulp. He can't have forgotten, can he? "Come on, Rex... It seemed significant." After a moment's hesitation, Rex sighs, running a hand over his buzzcut before raising his head to face me, though still evading it. "I..." "Yes?" "Alright, fine. [Name], don't panic, but... we might have accidentally... gotten married."

...

"WHAT?"

"Shh!" Rex quiets me with a gentle hand over my mouth, his eyes darting cautiously around us before he releases me. I shake my head slowly, puzzled. "Sorry, but what?" "The, um, the words... they were Mandalorian wedding vows," he admits, his tone tinged with uncertainty. I can't help but laugh. Married? Us? "You're joking." "Unfortunately not," he replies, a slight smile tugging at his lips, before his expression shifts to sheepishness as he rubs the back of his neck. "Though I do believe you'd make an excellent partner." Suppressing a chuckle, I ignore the warmth creeping into my cheeks.

"Actually, I realized we needed a distraction when I overheard some members gossiping behind our backs. They were growing suspicious, so I thought perhaps they'd relax if we participated in some traditions." Rex sighs, examining a pebble he's picked up. I shoot him a hopeful sidelong glance before quickly looking away, feeling my heart quicken.

Force, this man is captivating.

Silence envelops us once more as we both drift deeper into our own thoughts. When I sense the gravel shifting under his weight, I raise an eyebrow. "It wouldn't bother me, you know?" A lump forms in my throat, causing a series of coughs to escape at his words. "Wh-what?" "Being with you." Suddenly, his warm yet weighty hand finds mine. Sweat prickles at my heated skin as I keep my gaze fixed ahead.

"R-rex, are you suggesting...?" "[Name]," he interrupts, turning to face me. Before I can evade his gaze, he gently lifts my chin, compelling me to meet his eyes. I run my tongue over my dry lips, which his gaze is now fixated on. "I want you. And I know you want me, too." His proximity sends shivers down my spine as goosebumps ripple over my arms and back. His newfound confidence is palpable. "I've noticed the way you look at me, how you stare. I know, [name]," he murmurs against my lips, "what do you think?"

I flush, gripping his wrist as I lock eyes with his warm gaze. "I think you're right." Rex chuckles deeply, resonating like a rumble in his chest. "Good." And before I realize it, his lips meet mine,

Time seems to slip away as I surrender completely to the kiss. Eventually, Rex pulls back, leaving me breathless, and flashes me a mischievous grin.

“So, about that wedding night…”

#star wars #the bad batch #clone wars #bad batch #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #star wars clone wars #tbb #star wars the bad batch #momojedis 300 follower celebration #clone trooper rex #star wars captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex #clone troopers #rex x reader #reader insert #captain rex x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #clone wars x reader #tbb x reader #bad batch x reader #Star Wars x reader #my writing

[shockercoco]

Modern Lonliness

Major John Egan x reader

Warnings - little bit of angst, but mostly fluff

Word count - 2159

a/n - this was literally supposed to be posted over a month ago for the ending of MOTA, but I kept writing for Austin lol. Might as well get it out the drafts now. I also basically had to rewrite the whole thing bc wtf was I thinking a month ago. I hope you enjoy :)

The war is finally over, allowing all the soldiers to go home, including the two best friends Buck and Bucky. The only thing holding Bucky back from being completely content about leaving is the fact that he doesn’t have that special someone to go back to.

Buck has Marge, and of course he’s happy for him, but Bucky just wishes had found a girl before he got sent off, someone who would know how he was before the war. Buck would always tell him not to worry and that he would find someone soon, but each time it doesn’t give him any reassurance.

You have been best friends with Marge since college, so when she told you her fiance was coming home you had nothing but joy for her. You had been a huge supporter of their relationship since the beginning, and while Buck was away you were always at her house comforting her for when she cried or just needed a friend. During his absence, Buck would write to you to check in on Marge because you and him both knew Marge would never tell him how she was really doing.

Currently, you are walking out of her front door to go back home when you see a taxi pull up in the driveway. You didn’t think anything of it until you saw Buck exiting the vehicle with his bags in hand. You shout for Marge to come outside, and it doesn’t take long for her to sprint into Buck’s arms after seeing him in the driveway. With a smile, you watched as he held onto her tightly and so lovingly, knowing this is exactly what Marge needed after a bad week. 

Deep down, though, you were wishing you had someone coming home to you, someone whose arms you could run into and kiss you like his life depended on it. When it came to the dating scene you never had much luck, so after a while you just accepted the defeat and gave up, deciding it was better to put your energy towards your career. 

During your girl talks, Marge would always tell you that you would find someone soon, and how perfect of a person you were, but year after year of not finding a relationship was making it hard to believe her. 

A couple days after Buck’s return, Marge invited you over because she was hosting a barbeque for Buck and some of his friends. You tried your best to get out of it, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She also mentioned that Bucky – Buck’s friend from the military who you’ve only heard while reading letters – would be there and that it would be an opportunity for you.

You didn’t find it unusual that she was trying to set you up with someone because this is what she always does, but you just weren’t in the mood to have small talk with a guy who probably wouldn’t find you attractive.

When Buck had invited Bucky – because when are they not together – he turned down the offer, and just like Marge, Buck wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

So, now here you were in Marge’s backyard surrounded by men and their partners. The only people you knew were the hosts, so you sat on the steps of the back porch with Marge beside you. Marge also didn’t know many of the guests given the fact everyone was Buck’s friend from the military, so she kept you company as she watched Buck man the grill with a few other guys beside him.

Bucky was among them, standing right next to his best friend and sipping on a beer as he talked. Every now and again, he would run a hand through his hair to push some of his loose curls, and you couldn’t deny the fact that he was attractive as you found yourself admiring him from a distance.

“Are you going to say something to him?” Marge asked you as she swished around the lemonade in her glass. She had been watching you this whole time as you practically drooled in the direction of the grill.

“Of course not,” you say as you turn your attention back to her, not before glancing around to see if anyone else had caught you staring. 

Thankfully some of the women had formed a little group and were laughing and gossiping amongst themselves, so there was little chance anyone had noticed you.

“And why not?” asked Marge with furrowed brows. “He’s a nice guy, I promise.”

“I’m sure he is, but it’s not like I know what to say. Plus look at him, he’s way out of my league,” you reply as you take a sip of lemonade from your own glass. 

“No he’s not, he’s just like any other guy,” she scoffs followed by a laugh.

“And just like with any other guy, I have nothing to talk about. What do we even have in common? He also just got back from a war camp in Europe, what if I say something that triggers him? 

“You’re overthinking. Just start off with a simple hello, and then go from there. He’s a huge flirt so knowing him he’ll do most of the talking,” she smiles. 

She was always so optimistic about these kinds of things, but you would be too if you were getting married to a guy who basically worships you.

You quickly finish the last of your lemonade before standing up. “I’m going to get a refill,” you mumble as you walk up the steps and into the house. You needed an excuse to get away from the conversation, and to get out of the heat. The sundress you were wearing was cute and gave you airflow, but it also exposed your arms and legs to harsh sun.

You head into the kitchen and open the fridge to take out the pitcher of lemonade Marge had made earlier in the day. After refilling your glass, you thought it was best to linger in the kitchen for a bit longer and decided to grab a plate of fruit out of the fridge to keep you busy.

Just as you jump up on the kitchen counter to get comfortable, you hear the back door opening. Next thing you know, you see Bucky walking into the kitchen, letting out a sigh that seems to be of exhaustion. He flashes you a smile when he notices you, before proceeding to grab another beer out of the fridge.

“You’re Marge’s friend right?” he asks as he shuts the door and turns to face you. 

“Yep,” is all you say before sticking a grape in your mouth.

“I’m John, but everyone calls me Bucky,” he says. He makes direct eye contact as sticks a hand out for you to shake, which you do, before popping the cap off his beer.

“So I’ve heard. I’ve seen your picture in Marge’s letters,” you respond as you focus your attention on the plate in your hands and begin moving some fruit around.

“Oh, yeah? Did I atleast look good in those pictures? Buck never lets me read his letters,” He smirks as he leans against the counter opposite from you.

You almost choke on the piece of fruit you had just placed in your mouth from his statement. You feel your face and ears turning warm so you turn your head and look out the kitchen window to avoid his gaze.

You stop yourself from smiling and cover it by clearing your throat. “Well  you were in a uniform and in black and white, so I couldn’t really tell.” 

“Understandable, black and white photos can be misleading,” he jokes, taking a swig from his bear. There’s a short silence that follows that isn’t completely awkward, but not exactly comfortable to you either. You hope he doesn’t notice.

The silence is interrupted by the back door opening and Marge sticking her head inside. She grins as her eyes flicker between you and Bucky before stopping on you to say, “Are you coming back out or what?”

“In a second, I’m just going to cool off in here for a bit,” you tell her. She gives you a nod before closing the door.

“Not a fan of big gatherings, I take it,” Bucky says once Marge is gone.

“What makes you say that?” you steal a glance at him before looking back out the window.

You smile as you watch Marge join Buck at the grill, making him turn his head to give her a quick kiss.

“I can tell you’re avoiding going back outside, and I don’t blame you. I’m doing the same thing myself,” he answers.

“What are you avoiding?” you finally turn your head to face him.

“Nothing specific really, I’m just not in the mood for conversating and answering people’s questions right now. That doesn’t include you though,” he looks over at you with a small smile. ” I used to love being around people and having fun, but now all I want to do is leave.” 

You watch as Bucky stares at the wall, going distant. His mood seems to have shifted from the one he had when he first stepped foot in the kitchen. “Everything okay?”

Your voice interrupts his thoughts and brings him back to the present. “Yeah, I’m fine…I’m just…I can tell I’m a different person ever since I got back, and I’m not sure I like this version of me.” He sets his beer on the counter and folds his arms, no longer in the mood to drink it. 

“I don’t think anyone expects you to be the same.”

“Well yeah, it’s just the fact that everyone I meet from now on will only know this version of me. They won’t know how different I was before the war, and they won’t understand what I’ve been through. Like Buck has Marge to talk to, and she understands because of the letters he would send her. I don’t have that,” Bucky says before adding, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to dump this all on you.”

You just give him a smile. Even though you will never understand completely what Bucky went through, you do have some grasp on what he’s feeling. To you it’s obvious that he puts on a mask when he’s around people, and won’t let his feelings show unless he’s alone – harboring his emotions.

“I know how close you are with Buck, have you ever told him about how you felt? It always helps to talk to someone.” you tell him.

He shakes his head, “No, I don’t want to bother him. He has his own problems.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” you tell him, but he just shakes his head again. “Well...I know we’ve just met, but you could talk to me. I mean, you just opened up to me in a kitchen within ten minutes of meeting me. I’m obviously a great listener Only if you want to, though,” you end with a hopeful smile.

Bucky finally looks away from the wall to look you in the eye with his eyebrows raised. “Really?” he asks and you nod. “That would be nice.”

And that’s where the bond between the two of you started, and it only continued to grow stronger. You would meet up with him for drinks, lunch, or just for a walk through the park. Bucky would tell you everything, from him joining the military and meeting Buck to what he has experienced throughout the past few years. You could tell that he would get emotional when he brought up certain topics, but he never cried around you, even though you always encouraged him to let his feelings out.

One day when he invited you to dinner, you brought it up to Marge. She quickly got excited and said it was a date, but you just brushed it off and told her it was just another casual meeting. Nonetheless, you still decided to put effort into your appearance – more than you normally do – and once the dinner was over, you realized she was right.

Bucky ended up confessing to you how his feelings for you have grown over the past few weeks. At first you were shocked, but when you realized he was being serious, you admitted that you felt the same way. 

You didn’t care that Bucky thought he was a ruined person with a lot of baggage, everyone has their hardships, after all. Bucky loved how you enjoyed being with him after everything he had told you, and how you accepted him for who he is now.

When you eventually told Marge that you and Bucky were official, she wasn’t surprised at all and brought up how she always said you would find someone. When Bucky had told his best friend, Buck was happy for him and gave Bucky his fair share of I told you so’s.

#callum turner x reader #callum turner #callum turner imagine #major john egan x reader #major john egan #mota #mota fanfic #mastersoftheair #austin butler x reader #major gale cleven #austin butler

[beomiracles]

「 CRIMINAL CONSCIENCE 」

SYNOPSIS moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder.

pairings criminal!beomgyu x investigator!reader warnings for tape 02 drinking, lightly hinted sexual themes, red flag beomgyu, mentions of drug dealing.

GENERAL WARNINGS ─ this story contains dark themes, portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships as well as substance abuse. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.

✎ NOTE!, this story is partly told in flashbacks. beware of time stamps as present and past is mixed throughout the story.

#serene adds ✎... I've been doing a lot of thinking about how I want the dynamic between the reader and Beomgyu to play out. As the story progresses it will become a lot more evident, also gentle reminder that Beomgyu is a piece of shit with some morals (when it suits him).

the tape recordings

tape 02 ─ red lipstick stains

February 19th 2024 — present time 

“Is everything alright?” Huening’s light voice easily parts the dark clouds fogging your mind and your eyes snap to him as you blink a couple of times. “You’ve barely touched your food”, he comments as he casts a glance toward your almost full plate. 

Pushing said food around leisurely with your fork, you sigh, “I’m not feeling particularly hungry today I suppose”. Your colleague frowns as he sets his own fork down, “does it have anything to do with the case you were assigned this morning?”. 

You look at him as you gnaw on your bottom lip, you don't want to lie, especially not to Huening. But was it such a good idea to tell him about who exactly you had been assigned. You figured it probably wasn’t. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Huening kai, but if word got around the office, well it certainly wouldn’t look good on either yours or Yeonjun’s part. Besides, you really didn’t feel like pulling the whole story for him, not when you had already promised Yeonjun that you would later that night. 

“No, I’ve just been tired lately”, you shrug as you reach for your glass. Huening doesn’t seem convinced as he studies your expressionless face. “Sorry, I’m not exactly good company right now”, you mumble against the rim of the glass. 

“You’re always great company, noona” he beams and you smile. “You’re great company too, Huening” you say and your younger colleague blushes furiously as he occupies himself with his food. 

You liked spending time with Huening kai, he was so easygoing and the atmosphere would always feel light whenever he was around. The restaurant he had taken you to was a small family owned business, perfectly situated on the corner of the street in the most central part of your city. 

From your table by the window you had a perfect view of the large park, though the flowers had yet to bloom and the tree branches remained naked you still found it to be a beautiful sight. 

Beomgyu had rarely taken you out to restaurants. In fact he rarely took you out at all. Back then you didn’t see a problem with that, but then again, there were a lot of things you had disregarded in better judgment of Choi Beomgyu. 

31st March 2022 

It had been three long days since your first encounter with Beomgyu. And for those three days you hadn’t stopped thinking about him. On your way to class, in class, after class, on your way to work, during work, after work. 

He was everywhere yet nowhere. After the night you had spent together you had woken up to an empty bed, no note left behind. Beomgyu had given you no way to contact him. Perhaps that should have been your first warning. 

Had Kayla been right all along? Did he really never see the same woman twice? Yet his words remained engraved in your brain; 

“I like you dollface, I’ll keep you”. 

I’ll keep you. How did you keep someone you couldn’t even contact? Of course you had kept the whole encounter from your nosey friend. As Kayla pestered you about where you had gotten off to during the evening, without as much as a word to your bestest friend, you dismissed her, making up some bullshit lie about getting a cab home to not ruin her night. 

Perhaps you should have just taken a cab home that night, perhaps things would’ve turned out different if you did. But there was no changing the past. 

It was late at night when your usually dry phone chimed with a notification. Had you not still been up to finish your coursework you probably would have missed it. Grabbing the device, an unfamiliar number flashed on the screen. The text was short, only reading out one sentence. 

“75-4, Seongbuk-gu, Seoul, 1.30am.” 

You frown, an address? As you open the message you find that you can’t reply, how odd. Part of you knows better than to give the mysterious message more than another thought. But something about it felt familiar, was that strange to think? 

The sender had left no signature, yet you were almost certain who had sent it. 

What did you have to lose? With that thought in mind you swing your legs over the edge of your bed as you get up. 

Typing in the address on your phone you find that it’s, “a nightclub?”. It was situated in a part of town that you were unfamiliar with. The large buildings looked slightly worn down and as you dwelled deeper into the narrow alleyways you started to question your decision. 

But you couldn’t go back now, you had to find out if he was actually the one who sent the message. The night breeze causes shivers to ripple through your body and you pull your arms around yourself as you quicken your pace. 

Soon a faint light comes into vision and the thumping of loud music can be heard. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or not, but you keep on walking. As you double check the address on your phone you throw a glance at the time, 1.28am. 

You swallow hard, an attempt to cover the fast beating of your heart. When you approach the door a large man turns to look at you. He looked like your typical bouncer, absolutely fucking jacked and covered in tattoos. 

The man raised an eyebrow as he took in the state of you. “You lost, little girl?” he asks in an amused tone. Your throat goes dry as you look up at him, “I…uh”. 

He chuckles, “kindergarten is down the street and to your right”, he gestures with a large hand. The bouncer’s words cause a frown to cross your features, kindergarten? Sure you weren’t exactly your typical bimbo, but did you really look that out of place? 

Oh who were you kidding, of course you did. What were you even thinking coming here, on your own too. There was no way you were going to be let inside this club. What a waste of time. Internally groaning, you prepare to leave when a figure suddenly appears in the doorway. 

“Dollface, you made it”, Beomgyu’s dark eyes perfectly match the smirk playing on his lips. He pushes past the bouncer who immediately steps aside and gives him a quick bow. 

A ring clad hand finds your waist as Beomgyu pulls you to his side. Your eyes widen in surprise as you stammer for words. When you pass the bouncer Beomgyu mutters something to the man that you can’t quite catch. You’re unable to give it much thought as you’re led inside the beating club. 

The atmosphere of it all is no different from any other club you had been to, sweat, alcohol and sex filled the hot air. Yet there was something special about this place, it felt almost exquisite, and the people here seemed to be aware of it. 

Instead of a bar, drinks were being served by the multiple waiters pacing around the outlines of the dancefloor. Several booths clad in purple velvet filled the walls, you expected Beomgyu to lead you to one of them,though his eyes seemed to be set on the large staircase leading to the second floor as he pushed through the dancefloor. 

Immediately eyes were drawn to him as people stepped aside to make room for him to pass. What made him so special? You were barely spared a glance apart from an occasional glare sent by the many women surrounding you.

When you made it to the stairs, Beomgyu's hand traveled from your waist to your lower back as he guided you toward the large purple doors at the top. As the two of you approached, the bouncers stepped aside and gave Beomgyu a quick bow, he barely seemed to notice them. 

“Isn’t this the VIP section?” you whisper under your breath as you survey the area. It was much quieter here and the air felt almost cleaner. “Clever girl”, Beomgyu smirks as he leads you to one of the few larger booths. 

You quickly realized that the two of you weren’t going to be alone. A man in his late twenties sat by the booth as he swished a drink around in his hand. You didn’t recognize him and when Beomgyu called out to him, his name rang no bells. 

“Duri!” he exclaims and the man looks up from his drink with a grin on his face. “I was beginning to think you’d stood me up”, Duri says as he studies Beomgyu’s frame, gaze stopping at the way his hand rests on your lower back. “Though I now realize what kept me waiting”, his eyes shift to you as he gives you a wink. 

“I, uh…hello”, you give him an awkward wave and the man bursts into laughter, Beomgyu however doesn’t seem to share his amusement. “Pretty little thing you got there”, Duri comments as he reaches for his drink once more, “what’s your name, love?”. 

“Oh, it’s─”

“Dollface, this is my old friend, Duri”, Beomgyu interrupts as he gestures toward the man in front of you. “Duri, this is Dollface”. You glance up toward Beomgyu with a slight frown but he doesn’t seem to notice as he pulls you along to sit next to him. 

Duri hums as he eyes you carefully, “nice to meet you”, he then says. “Uh, you too…”, you mumble, your words coming out as a squeak when Beomgyu’s hand finds your thigh, cold rings stinging your naked skin. 

His free hand quickly calls over one of the many waiters and he turns to look at you, “what do you want, doll?”. “Oh anything is fine…I’ll just have what you’re having”, you tell him and Beomgyu smirks as he turns back to the waiter, “my usual, and make it two”. The waiter bows before quickly rushing off again. 

You lean back against the smooth velvet as Beomgyu and Duri indulge in a conversation regarding topics that made little sense in your ears. You wondered why Beomgyu hadn’t introduced you, was he ashamed of you? But why bring you along if he was ashamed, it made little sense. 

Suddenly you’re reminded of Kayla’s warnings, you realize what kind of people Beomgyu might have connections to. Was Duri one of those? Was that why he didn’t want you to give out your name? 

Your mind spun with different scenarios, much so that you didn’t notice your drinks arriving. Not until Beomgyu brings the glass to your lips and mumbles a quiet, “open up”. 

Doing as he says without hesitation, the warm liquor burns your throat. It was unlike anything you had ever tasted before and it was… “this is really good”, you murmur as you take the glass from Beomgyu’s hand. He smirks, “knew you’d like it, dollface”. 

Raising an eyebrow, you sip on your drink, “why, you seem to know everything about me already”, you grin. Beomgyu’s eyes twinkle in an unexplainable way as he brings his own drink to his lips. “You’d be surprised”. 

To Beomgyu’s right, Duri clears his throat, “well it seems my date for the night has arrived”. As he gets up he gives you a quick glance, “pleasure meeting you, ‘dollface’”, he says before making his way over to one of the many half naked girls crowding the rest of the booths.

Surprised at his sudden leave, your eyes follow the man before returning to the one next to you. “Who was he?” you ask and Beomgyu raises an eyebrow as he looks at you, “an old friend”. 

You frown, there was no way he was telling the truth, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to question him further, reminding yourself that you barely knew the man. “If he’s an old friend, then why didn’t you introduce me?” 

Beomgyu takes a sip of his drink before setting it down, his hand returning to your thigh once more, “I did”. Shaking your head you twist around on the spot to look at him fully, “why not my name?”. 

“What’s it to him?” he mutters as his free hand runs through your hair before stopping to rest on your shoulder. Your frown deepens upon hearing his words, “he’s your friend”, you state. “Perhaps”, Beomgyu says as he casts a glance toward Duri whose hand was down the skirt of the girl he had just walked up to, “but not a friend you should be acquainted with”. 

“Why?” 

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth but doesn’t reply. “Did he do something bad?” you press but Beomgyu doesn’t budge. “Haven’t we all?” he says as he empties the last of his drink. 

“Yes but─” 

“Drop it, dollface”, Beomgyu’s voice is so cold that it could've easily brought back the ice age. Gulping you look down to your half empty glass, the drink seeming to have lost all its taste. 

His answer however made you almost certain of one thing, that Duri was a dealer, he had to be. That’s how Beomgyu knew him, it had to be. Then that would mean that Beomgyu also… No, maybe he just bought from him every now and then. A small amount couldn’t be that bad right? As long as he had it under control, and he did, didn't he?

Back then you didn’t know it, but Beomgyu loved his control. More than a lot of things, more than a lot of people. 

You glance up at him once more, a thousand questions prodding at your lips, you chose one. “How did you get my number?”

Beomgyu groans, “fuck dollface, you ask a lot of questions”. His hand on your shoulder moves to the nape of your neck as he pulls your lips flush against his in a hot kiss. Beomgyu was good at avoiding questions, perhaps a little too good. 

That should have been your second warning.

19th February 2024 — present time

Beomgyu hadn’t changed a lot in the ten months you had gone without seeing him. There were only a few noticeable differences. His hair had gotten longer, the ends looked thinner and less well kept. Dark circles clad the area under his eyes, it was something you had never seen on him before. 

His otherwise charismatic persona had yet to leave him as he cracked jokes at any given moment. Ah, and he was still a little too good at avoiding questions. 

“What is your relationship to Park Baekhyun?” you ask. Beomgyu twists the rings on his fingers as he hums softly. As his eyes find yours a grin spreads across his lips, “what’s your relationship to that guy?”. 

You frown, what guy? “I advise you to answer my questions instead of diverting to other─” “The guy in the doorway, from earlier”, Beomgyu interrupts you as his eyes scan your expression for answers, for insecurities. 

“That was my colleague”, you say, mentally scolding yourself for letting Huening drop you off at the investigation rooms after your lunch together. 

“Really?” Beomgyu’s eyebrows raise in a fake-surprise, “didn’t look like it to me”. You roll your eyes, “what you think does not matter, now if you would regain focus and answer my quest─” “He your boyfriend or something?” 

Beomgyu’s expression holds no hint of amusement as he leans back in his chair, rocking on its back legs. You almost wanted to laugh. After everything, he still thought he had a say in anything regarding your life, regarding you. 

“He might be”. 

“Bullshit”. Beomgyu leans forward again, the front legs of his chair slamming down on the stone floor. 

You don’t flinch at the sound, you don’t move from your position even when Beomgyu’s face comes so close to yours that you can feel his hot breath on your face. 

Fighting the urge to smile, you tilt your head to the side. “Is it so hard to believe?” You watch as Beomgyu bites the inside of his cheek as he studies your face, when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for he lets out a huff of air as he leans back again. 

“He’s not your type”, he then says and it’s now your turn to fake surprise as you cross your arms, “who says?”. Beomgyu scoffs, “funny, dollface”. “You forget, I know everything about you”, his tongue swipes over his bottom lip and you find your eyes lingering. 

“Knew”, you then say, “you knew everything about me”. 

Beomgyu looks at you with an expression that could only be explained as rage filled. “Things change, Beomgyu”, you then say, putting pressure on his name, “people change, I changed”. 

“It’s a shame you didn’t”, you give him a sympathetic look. Beomgyu’s fist slams down on the metal table, causing the cuffs around his wrists to rattle. You don’t flinch. It angers him even more. 

“I think it’s best we end today’s session here”, you stand up and straighten your shirt. Beomgyu remains silent as he glares at you. It isn’t until you reach the door, one hand on the handle, that he finally speaks again. 

“Is red his favorite color too?” 

You freeze, “what?”. Beomgyu chuckles behind you, but his laugh holds no warmth. You turn to look at him, what had made him bring such a thing up. It isn't until his gaze travels to your lips that realization hits you. 

You had meant to get rid of that lipstick months ago. You had simply forgotten to, right? It was a mere coincidence that it presented itself on your desk so prettily this morning, and you had been in a rush too, not looking to see which exact product you’d taken. 

Beomgyu smirks, “you still look fucking irresistable in it”, he says as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Quickly composing yourself, you pull your eyes from his lips. “My boyfriend thinks so too”, you say and before he has the chance to reply you’re out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you as you lean against it. 

Fuck, he still made your heart almost beat out of your chest. 

That night had been a restless one, spent going through the few pieces of Beomgyu you had left. The pieces you had clung onto, like your life depended on it. And maybe it did─maybe back then it did. 

They were few but important, a necklace, a perfume, a shirt, polaroids and…the red lipstick. Turning the small shiny tube between your fingers, you admire it. It was the first gift Beomgyu had given to you. 

It came in a small box, wrapped in gold with a red bow on top. Beomgyu had watched closely as your shaking fingers ripped the packaging apart. When you so carefully lifted the lid to reveal the small product inside your eyes had widened. 

“I─ Beomgyu this is…” you had mumbled as your fingers grazed the outline of the lipstick. “Try it on”, he whispered as his fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face. 

You screwed the bottom of the tube, revealing its deep red color. With trembling hands you had applied it, it turned out to be rather difficult without a mirror. As you put the lid back onto the lipstick you turned to look to Beomgyu. 

The smirk on his lips widened, exposing sharp teeth, his thumb grazed your bottom lip as it swept away any excess product. “Now you look like a real doll”, he mumbled as he caressed your flushed cheek. 

“I’ll wear it”, you whispered as you leaned into his touch. Beomgyu hummed in approval as he pressed his lips against your freshly painted ones. 

“Good, red is my favorite color”. 

end of tape 02

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[hxlda-hxlda]

sunday morning snippet!! it's 12AM so it counts for sunday!!

“My mum would have a fit,” Sirius said sort out of nowhere. 

He was listening, he was. But then his mind had half-drifted off, thinking of conversations at dinner tables where he was forced to wear the dress robes with the too-tight collars and well, okay, maybe Sirius had lost track of all of the words a little while ago. 

Remus stopped reading aloud immediately, looking up. “What?” he asked, lacking his usual irritation when interrupted. 

Remus wore a rarely open expression. One that drove Sirius to continue, saying something he otherwise might not have. Maybe if the sun was in a different position or if it was a Wednesday instead of a Saturday, or maybe if it was James instead of Remus, or maybe if it was two o’clock in the afternoon instead of five o’clock. Maybe if any single thing had been different Sirius might not have continued the thought, which pressed at his ribs with a steady ache — a bruise begging to be pressed. 

“Queers, poofs, whatever.” Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “My mother would throw a fit knowing we’re reading a novel by one of them.” 

Remus’ face remained as blank as ever, if not for the slight crease in his forehead. 

“She thinks they’re about as bad as mudbloods,” said Sirius, getting to his point after a bit more time had passed. That was about all there was to his point, but it felt significant for some reason. His heart was thundering loudly in his ears. Sirius wondered vaguely if Remus could hear it with his freaky hearing, then realised he probably could. 

“What about you?” Remus asked quickly, watching Sirius intensely. 

Sirius found looking at Remus to worsen the state of his rapidly beating heart as nervousness, or something, worked its way up his throat. Sirius swallowed, finding Lupin’s gaze too intense. He preferred the sight of his already half-picked thumbnail. He scraped at his thumb a bit more, swallowing again. 

“Well, y’know, I don’t think mudbloods are all that bad. Evans is alright when she takes the quill out of her arse for three seconds, I guess.” 

Sirius heard a snort of laughter that helped him relax his shoulders some. He continued speaking to his torn thumbnail.

“So… how right could she be about the rest of it, y’know what I mean?” Sirius said it quickly, as though it was a secret he wasn’t supposed to tell. It felt like a secret, in some odd way. 

He was met with a silence that immediately made his heart lurch again. He forced himself to glance up, just enough to catch Remus’ eyes. Shockingly, Sirius found that they’d softened. They were far less intense, and even the crease between his eyebrows had disappeared. He was looking all, well, soft. It was a funny sort of look for Remus, Sirius thought. It suited him, yes, but not in the way his usual stoicism did. 

“What?” Sirius asked after a while, feeling sheepish under the prolonged eye contact. 

“Nothin’,” Remus replied immediately. 

“No, no, what?” Sirius shuffled closer on the couch cushions, so close their knees were centermetres from touching. “You have to tell me now. You know how I get when you keep all your little secrets.” 

Remus huffed. “Insufferable,” he said with a shake of his head. 

“Exactly! Insufferable.” 

“This is classic manipulation, you know, threatening poor behaviour like this?” 

Sirius shrugged, quirking a smile. “Yes, well, I did have to learn some things from my mother, didn’t I?” 

Remus shook his head again, pretending not to laugh in that way he did. “I was just thinking,” he said after a beat. 

“About?” 

“About how you’re brilliant.” 

Sirius’ throat immediately felt thick. “What?” 

“Dunno.” Remus somehow managed to avoid and catch Sirius’ eyes simultaneously. They were caramel in the afternoon sun, his favourite kind of sun for Remus’ eyes. “Just… dunno how someone so awful made you. And– and you’re so good.” 

Sirius blinked rapidly, swallowing once then twice then a third time to try and rid himself of the lump in his throat. His cheeks burned, his throat, his eyes. He ducked his head. 

“Oh,” he said stupidly. And then, “You’re not so bad yourself, Lupin,” he coughed out, having to first compose himself enough to do so. 

“Shove off.” 

“Go on,” Sirius said, wiping at his eyes as surreptitiously as he could manage. “Read more of the book written by the poof. Maybe I’ll write a report for good ol’ Walburga.”

tagged by my abosolute darling @fiddleleafedfig ! it's a bit longer than a snippet, but i was scrolling through my docs for something and stumbled upon it. it was too cute not to use.

#fic: i won't believe you #writing tag #marauders #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Can I request headcanons for Raphael, Haarlep, and Zevlor being jealous of some guy is flirting with their female s/o although she's oblivious that he's flirting with her? He's so possessive that he even took her back home to have a heated make-out while holding her close & his tail wrapped around her leg!

I love a Possessive man. I'm not even going to lie. I always get asked if I met a guy in the books or fics I read how I would handle them. In theory, I would love it; in practice, I am a sassy beach and would probably not last.

HEADCANON~~~~~~Haarlep, Zevlor, Raphael

Haarlep-

He couldn't believe the fact he was so irate at this moment. Like he has never felt more than real lust since that was what he was incarnated for. Right now, though, it was as if he was a Demon of Wrath instead of a Demon of Lust.

How could you be so damn oblivious? You just sat there smiling with that stupid, adorable, cute smile.

You were perfect inside and out, something he didn't see in many people. You were the woman of his dreams. That wasn't an easy feat for a demon that could literally bed anyone.

You were his and his alone, so why was another demon standing so close to his woman.

(Haarlep would literally be the iconic TV trope of a partner breaking a champagne or wine glass in hand out of anger. Man is one for theatrics. Come on.)

It was all over after the demon talking to you touched your face to move some hair behind your ear. Before you could even process what was happening, Harrlep was on top of the other demon, practically torturing him.

Once Raphael dismissed and sent him on his way, he grabbed you and took you to his room.

Mans is a pacer when he fears his emotions are too big to handle right then.

Once calmed down, especially by your words, he just turned to you and, with no hesitation, kissed you passionately.

Let's be honest: Haarlep is a man of business. He doesn't play around.

As extra reassurance, you wouldn't leave him for three weeks straight; his tail was wrapped positively around your thigh or waist, constantly teasing you and testing others.

Zevlor-

I'm not going to lie. In my first playthrough, I punched Zevlor, so I can confidently say Mans is a big baby. He plays it off cool, but once his ego is hurt, he tanks Man, and it's so cute.

Watching the male tiefling flirt with you was literally hell on earth. Might as well have Avernus burning around him as you laugh at that stupid demon's jokes.

This party to celebrate your victory was supposed to be a night for you and him to sneak off and consummate your relationship before the long journey through the shadowlands. (If you know, you know, and I cry every time)

Man is more of a self-deprecating jealous than a wrathful jealous. So, unlike Haarlep, who just waits to explode, Zevlor is coming up with 1000 reasons why the other demon is so much better for you.

Zevlor becomes withdrawn and makes his way to his maps and equipment for the expedition, no longer interested in the party.

If he can't see his heart get broken, how can his heart get broken, you know?

However, what this man loved about you most was that you picked up on so many subtle clues. So, with little time between his self-deprecating and abandonment of the party, you were at his side.

The man couldn't even look you in the eyes. He was so sure he would fuck something up.

After some gentle coaxing, he finally listens to you and holds you so gently, kissing you fiercely and passionately.

(He may leave a few hickies or ten to really make sure everyone knew you were taken)

While on the road to Baldur's Gate, he never took his tail from around your waist. He kept you close and secure next to him.

God forbid the tiefling from the party even remotely gets too close to you. That tail might go to other places to prove a point.

Raphael-

He is far too prideful and egotistical to physically show anyone or anything in general how upset he is that another man is talking to you.

He would rather burn in hell under his father's thumb than admit he is jealous.

He knows at the end of the day, you are his. I mean, he had your soul. The first night you two consummated, he took it from you.

That didn't stop the nagging feeling he had watching you laugh, smile, and, in his eyes, flaunt what was his.

Being prideful, Raphael's approach to removing the threat was simple. He simply reminded everyone how powerful he really was.

All it took was a quick interjection into the conversation and not so-subtly informing the lingering demon about how his father was a king of hell.

Once the threat was taken care of, he turned to you. Oddly enough, with a simple, commanding look, you knew it was time to retreat to your shared quarters.

Before you could make it through the door fully, you were slammed against a wall, mouth covered by his.

By the end of the night, you had more marks covering your body than you cared to admit, but damn, at least everyone knew who owned you.

After that incident, at every gala or event he held, you were to sit on his lap with his tail wrapped firmly around your body.

If you behaved well, he would use his tail elsewhere, too.

I had a lot of fun writing this; when I first joined Tumblr many moons ago, this wasn't a huge thing, so this is my first time writing one of these. I really hope I didn't disappoint. Thank you so much to everyone from Annons to other blogs for the help and support in beginning my journey to writing! I appreciate all of you!

#baulders gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader #raphael bg3 #raphael #zevlor #zevlor bg3 #zevlor x reader #bg3 zevlor #haarlep #bg3 haarlep #bg3 raphael #house of hope #raphael the cambion

[astoryisaloveaffair]

Fix You - Chapter 16 - Genesis

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

Fic Masterlist

Read on A03

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Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: cussing, graphic violence, mentions of sex. I'm not giving more warnings than that, sorry.

A/N: Hey all. First I want to say I'm sorry. I literally had no time or motivation to write this. I'm gonna be honest, this is a really tough chapter, and it was hard to get in this headspace. Suffering a recent heartbreak, things in this chapter are things I have thought also, and so it was really hard for me to voluntarily want to address that. I also started working in veterinary medicine, i do not have the spare time that I used to. We also recently adopted a puppy who we named Bucky! And if you read my earlier posts, you know that I was SA'd last January. All that to say, sorry I couldn't do this faster.

Also want to wish a happy birthday to @musings-of-a-rose, my beloved, my bestie, and my constant support. This is for you. Sorry it's not a happier chapter....

* If a character is speaking fully in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this

Suggested Songs: "Exile" Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver, "I Love You" Billie Eilish, "Vampire" and "Logical" by Olivia Rodrigo, "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers, "Genesis" by Grimes

You didn’t even flinch at the landing, which was rough, so that’s saying a lot. When the janky cargo door (which looked like at any time during the flight would be ripped right off) opens, you barely even lift your eyes from the floor. You felt heavy and hollow, somewhere suspended in between shock and just not giving a fuck anymore. The only thing you could still fell was the pinching in your heart. It was still broken.

At some point during the journey, the co-pilot had taken pity on you and untied your arms from behind your back and bound them in front of you instead. You hadn’t struggled. There was no point. Where would you go? Jump in the ocean? You weren’t that great of a swimmer and you loved sharks and everything but the open ocean is not where you are supposed to be.

You have no sense of space and time, so you have no actual clue where you are other than not the mainland. You’re dehydrated as fuck, groggy, your vision’s blurry and you’d figured out the sticky moisture on your face was your own blood. 

Because when you had suddenly blacked out it was because they’d hit you, and had absolutely no hesitation doing so. They did not care about you, they did not see you as a human being, they didn’t even bother strapping you into a seat so you had been sliding around the cargo bay the entire flight, bumping into everything. You were in deep danger, any hope that you would have some ransom protection had pretty much disintegrated. You had hoped that the boys wouldn’t come for you at first. Then you had hoped that they would, because if you’re ransom, even if at the very least you’d be alive until then, right? But “alive” doesn’t mean unharmed.

A shadow looms over you and it finally makes you look up, squinting to adjust your eyes to something so close, as well as the brightness of the sun. It feels like it takes you 10 whole minutes to process that you were being spoken to in English.

“Eh!” The man leaning over you snips, and when you simply blink in confusion and don’t answer, he slaps you lightly on both cheeks. You’re stunned enough to finally look at him, his oval face, beady eyes and unique sideburns seeming so familiar to you but quite frankly you wouldn’t trust yourself with recognizing even your dad at the moment, so you push that thought aside.

He kneels down in front of you. “You listen to me. We don’t want you. We want the money. This means if you don’t fucking piss me off, I might be nice and not kill you, you understand? Be a smart little girl, eh?.”

You nod, you probably should be feeling some sort of panic setting in but you don’t. Whatever. Who even cares anymore.

He takes your silence as submission. “Bueno.” He whispers, leaning down and grabbing you by the arm, lifting you until you are back on your feet. He tilts his head and steps to the side, revealing 5 additional men with AKs pointed straight at you. From behind, you feel the sharp tip of another poking your back, urging you forward and down the precarious ramp. The pilots.

You didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, but you knew you had no other choice. Trying to fight was asking for it, and once you step out of the hold and realize you were in the fucking jungle, there would be no sensical place to go even if you did get away.

You step out of the plane onto a rickety steel ramp that bounces as the footpad of your sandals touches it and shuffle slowly down it. You feel suffocated sandwiched between four men, your hands chafe where they are tied and you have been in the same positions for so long your whole body is sore. Every touch and movement hurt.

You stumble as the ramp ends but one of the men grabs your arm and yanks you so you don’t fall. It wasn’t kindness. It was a way to hurt you that he could get away with. The tiny dirt landing strip is almost canopied completely by the jungle trees, leaving large patches here and there where the plane flew through, not noticeable from far above. It looks like you’re walking to nothing, just a dirt road that ends right into the thick middle of the jungle, but you don’t stop at the edge. You push through.

It’s hot as shit and you felt sweat buildup in every crevice of your body, your thighs are rubbing raw from your asinine decision to wear short shorts to the fair, and you could feel a heat rash growing under your tits that you couldn’t even scratch because your hands are bound.

You walk for forever. You walk until the friction rash on your inner thighs turn to lesions. You haven't drank water in almost 48 hours and it feels like 150 degrees out, with full humidity. You’ve had to stop twice already to vomit from heat exhaustion and you still occasionally gag even though there’s nothing in your stomach to come up anymore. All the years that you did not appeal to insects are making up for it now, they’re all over you and you can’t walk 3 steps without one getting in your eye.  The jungle gets tighter and you can’t breathe because it’s pushing in on you almost as tight as the hands on your shoulders pushing you forward..

You start crying. At least, that is what you tell yourself as you whimper and sob as quietly as you can. You know you’re strong, but this is just beyond reason that any normal person could take. And when you think about how this is probably what life was all the time in Delta for the boys, you cry even harder because you feel guilty, that you have no right to complain.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the tightness of the jungle seems to loosen. More open. You notice some of the trees look more oddly arranged than others. As you get closer you realize they aren’t trees at all, but tents and dilapidated buildings built into the shadows of the trees.  The huge roots and overhanging canopy of the jungle transformed a bustling camp into what looks like a little village. At the entrance, a line of guards in jungle fatigues that were impossible to detect until you got right up to them. You hear someone speak above you, alerting you to a man up in the trees on a platform tucked between the branches. There was another in the tree on the opposite side. He calls to the man with the sideburns, saying something in Spanish you can’t interpret fast enough, but it’s jovial and they laugh, and it makes you feel like you’re going to go mentally insane. 

It’s like it’s not even serious to them. And it’s so serious to you.

You are pushed through the camp quickly, but not quick enough that you don’t see the insane amount of cocaine packages piled up in the makeshift buildings, sheds, and tents toward the back. Men were milling about checking them, moving them and glaring at you as you walked past.

You continue past the main camp, crossing over a bustling creek whose bridge was literally just planks of wood, but you noticed there were tire marks across them so you felt at least safe it could handle a car’s weight. Across the creek, an old stonework manor stood. You can tell at one time it must have been glorious, but the white stone-worked walls were dirty and crumbling in many places, the fountains out front had dried crusty palm fronds and dirt in them and looked like they hadn’t sprayed water since the 1980s.

It was still oddly beautiful. You thought about how this house came to be, what it might have looked like when it had been first built. A beautiful Caribbean sea mansion. A jungle that hadn’t closed in on it yet. Fountains spraying and colorful birds resting on the rooftops. But then you  realize that this place has probably always been used for what it is now. Someone like Carl Lehder probably lived here and ran an entire cartel within this very jungle. Maybe it was the same one, just run by someone else.

There was a shabbily made shack to the left of the manor with padlocks, piles of debris piled next to the door. You assume that’s where you would be taken, but you were instead led up the stairs to the manor proper. And as your eyes focus in on the ground while you were being guided to the mansion instead, you realize the heap of matter by the shack that you thought was some dying plantation was actually a crumpled human body. A boy looking not much older than 17, shot execution style in the head and left to rot.

Then smell hits you, your knees buckle and you vomit on the stonework stairs, a scream of shock and realization pierces the jungle, making the nearby tropical birds explode from the treetops. When the sicarios pick you up and carry you through the mansion door, you’re still screaming.

Eventually whoever was carrying you became fed up, and simply dropped you at the bottom of the stairs and dragged you up backwards by the armpits instead. You didn’t even feel the step edges hitting the small of your back all the way up, but you would later. 

You were tossed stricken and shivering on a disgusting, top-sheeted mattress on the floor in the corner of a room, your feet still bound together and your rope-bound hands looped through a radiator that was long enough only for you to lie down or shuffle over to a bucket for your business. Everything stank and you still had vomit on your chin so you curled up in a ball and slammed your eyes closed, hoping that in time the voices and smells and fear would give way to just simple numbness. You didn’t hear a female voice speaking to you for several seconds.

Your eyes snap open, skin pulled taut from dried unwiped tears,and you jolt upright to look in the direction of the voice. A woman who wasn’t even tied up was propped up against the adjoining wall, and as you take in her condition you could understand why they hadn’t even bothered. She wouldn’t have been able to run.

Her legs look..wrong, splaying at angles that shouldn’t be possible. They look like they could be broken, but you can’t tell for sure because she was wearing jeans that cover up most of her skin. The jeans were ripped in some places and stained with dark blood spots, the color turning brighter wherever her skin shows through the tears in the fabric. She’s missing several fingers on her left hand that had been burnt at the ends to cauterize, and her face was black and blue, swollen and smeared with more blood that seemed to be coming from her scalp somewhere. Her lips are pale and cracking and her eyes are glazed over and barely open. When she speaks, she already sounds like she is dead. 

She swallows and winces slightly in pain, then licks her cracked pale lips.“Is…my…her–my brother. Did you see him? Out there?” 

Your face scrunches in confusion, which actually hurts a little and you’re not sure from what specifically. Perhaps you look just as bad as the other girl. “Your–I—I don’t understand.”

She’s too exhausted to even be annoyed with you. “My brother. They took him from me days ago. They do not talk to me anymore. They don’t—need me anymore.” A single tear falls down her swollen cheek and you suddenly feel so much connection with this woman and how  incredibly fucking strong she is. Her eyes roll over to you, meeting yours for the first time. There are burst blood vessels in them. 

“I think that they killed him.”

Your lips part and you utter a shuddering breath as you connect the dots. There’s no point in sugar-coating it. You nod slowly. “I think so. But it’s not…recent.” You look away as her eyes slowly close, the additional tears she was holding back finally spilling over and cascading down her cheeks. 

“Bueno.” She says. “Then at least he is not suffering like me.” 

You both fall quiet and you look over her again. Her pants aren’t completely done up and her t shirt is ripped at the neckline, exposing a gashed shoulder. Almost like…

You start crying again, and you feel even worse about it this time because you have in front of you a woman who has been through much worse and is somehow NOT crying. You curl tighter into yourself to try and hide. 

But she simply asks. “Who are you?”

You swallow, raising your head up off your arms, quickly wiping the access tears off on your sleeve. It’s incredible how adrenaline and fear can sometimes make you the most clear-headed you’ve ever been. Your thoughts are swirling but you knew one thing for damn sure, if they didn’t know your name yet, you weren’t going to say it now. 

If I look forward I am lost. Focus on right now. Nothing else. It’s my best chance.

You know enough about trauma that compartmentalizing this moment is your best chance. You can’t think what will happen if you don’t escape, if you aren’t found, if they never come for you. You need to stay focused. You need to keep hope alive. You need to stay coherent, because if a chance pops up, you need to be able to think quickly.

“I’m no one.” You mumble. “Just happened to be dating the wrong person.”

She sniffs and looks away, but it’s muffled because her nose sounds congested. You don’t miss her tone though. “Mmmm. His new one then.”

You blink. “What?”

Her glazed over, discolored eyes snap back to yours. “Pope.” She spits. “Your man. Santia—”

“NO!” You cut her off with a shout, you know there is a guy who is in the area and you still don’t know how much these men do or do not know. “Don’t. Don’t give them names if they don’t already know it.”

“I don’t give a shit about Agent Garcia, or his friends, or anyone else, it’s their fault I am here and it’s their fault my brother is dead and..” She finally, finally starts to cry. “I told him I didn’t want to do it. They said they would let us go if we gave them what they wanted.”

“It was you.” You exhale with a shuddering breath. “They found us cause of you. You told them.” You shake your head, and for some reason you feel betrayed by this woman even though you’ve never met her.  “How could you?” 

“Because all I care about is my brother, do you understand?! I wish I’d never met him, Garcia, we would have just snuck away and no one would never seen us, but no, instead we listened to him and helped them steal from fucking Lorea, and now they found us and I knew they would, and YES, I gave them EVERYTHING because they said they’d let us go so long as they found you and–”

“Eh!” A voice trails in with a watchman you knew was hanging out somewhere in the hallway beyond. He slips through the doorway, a smaller man you were not expecting from that voice, and leans against the deteriorating door frame. He crosses his arms and his legs and it makes the handgun on his hip jut out prominently from his skinny hips. “No talking to each other.” His voice is silky and the words all slide together so it sounds like ‘no talkintoeeachother.’

You shrink back into the dirty wall behind you as your associate spits a bloody phlegm ball in the man’s direction. “FUCK you!” She snarls, a tirade of cuss words in Spanish flying from her lips. 

A loud pop almost bursts your eardrums and your heart and you exclaim in terror as your associate is shot point blank in the head, her back slumping against the wall and her head hitting with a bang, pieces of blood and brain tissue spraying over the back wall with pieces flying in your direction.  

The man remains completely motionless with his arms still raised before huffing a laugh to himself, putting the gun back on his hip, and looking at you with the such an unaffected gaze it leaves you feeling dizzy and you scream and scream and scream yourself hoarse, crumpling onto your mattress in a terrified heap, arms over your head, sobbing hysterically.

A gentle but firm palm wraps around your forearm, yanking you back up to a seated position. You look away, but the man’s other hand takes you gently by the jaw and makes you look at him. And just behind him, the woman slumped in a pool of blood and brain matter. You try to wriggle out of his grip but he tightens ever so slightly, and you can’t help but notice how different it is when Frankie would grab you like that versus this man. Frankie held you the same, sometimes harder, but you had trusted his domination and his care of you and because of that, it made it arousing. That same motion with this man has you more scared than you ever have been in your life. 

“Bebita.” He coos, thumb lightly caressing your jaw. He wipes at a small speck of blood you don’t know is even there. You can feel yourself shaking and breathing so fast you can see his half waxed back tousled locks that hang past his temples are blowing in its breeze. You can’t answer him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are a dark, almost black chocolate brown, shape mismatched, a scruffy beard and goatee and thin lips. In another world you would find him devastatingly attractive and the fact that you do makes you feel absolutely violated and disgusted with yourself. 

“Do not cry.” He continues. “You have no reason to if you behave, si? You be good and you listen and I will keep you safe you understand? Well, at least for now.” He shifts closer to you, you can smell his breath. It smells like orange and cloves. “There are a lot of men here Bebita. I am sure you understand what this means, si? Answer me.”

“Yes.” A final fat tear spills from one of your eyes, and it stings as it mixes with your sweat and the raw skin around your eyes. 

He juts his head in the other woman’s direction. “This one, she fight the whole time. I like a easy job. Make my job easy, I make sure you always deal with me. Do not make me call in the other guys, they are not as nice. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He releases your chin and you scoot back quickly as he saunters over to the other woman’s bloody body, grabs it by the arm, and casually drags her as dismissively as possible out the door and out of your sight, leaving a bloody trail behind.

At first you just sit there in a slump staring at the opposite wall,, you don’t know for how long. Probably hours. Maybe days. The man, whose name you figured out from when he spoke to someone else in the hall, is Angel. Sometimes he would sit up and watch you, as if figuring you out, your body and the way you shift and switch positions when you are uncomfortable, what it looked like when you were crying and trying to keep quiet and unnoticed. But most of the time he ignored you. Occasionally others would come into the room and either speak to him or approach you, but upon noticing Angel watching them they would hiss or spit a curse and slink off.

The room reminded you of those old houses from the 70s that had those drafty unfinished basements that were simply concrete floors, painted stucco or white brick. To the sicarios, it served as an overflow area, there was a rotting desk along the side wall with a metal folding chair and piles of scattered papers and random household tools on them. Against the opposite side wall was a pretty nice tv, considering, which was always playing soccer. Angel seemed to make that his home base, his lithe frame sprawled across a grandma-fabric sofa, head resting on one of the puffy arm rests. He binge-smoked cigarettes and his right hand was always stretched over his head resting against his forehead in the direction of to an end table with an massive overflowing porcelain ashtray on it. You didn’t used to mind the smell of cigarettes too much but now it makes you feel sick.

You’re ashamed of how little you actually think about your current situation and like the hopeless romantic idiot you are, mostly all you can think about is Frankie. The things he said–you knew he said mean things when he was mad, or things he didn’t mean, but isn’t there always some truth to things that are said in the heat of the moment? That was enough for you to silently spiral. You thought about every memory you had of him and how it could be viewed through the lens that Frankie just wanted to fuck you. Your self confidence was low enough it was believable, and your mind races through every instance of an older man being in a relationship with someone much younger and how of course it was predatory, and how could you not see it, that you didn’t have anything in common? It’s a tale as old as time. He just wanted to fuck you, he wanted to fuck you and dominate you, his dark desires seducing you into feeling so wanted you can’t believe you thought he loved you and didn’t see right through it. 

And his friends, well, they were all in on it weren’t they, because why would they want to hang out with someone like you either? Why would men such as that actually want to be friends with you when you have never experienced half of what they have.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his lying ass, he was a fucking loser addict and you’re pissed at yourself for even considering him. Like how lonely were you?? To choose an old man with a kid who served in an institution that represented everything you hated about this country? To be so easily blinded by pretty words and love bombs to immediately take your clothes off. Because how, if he actually loved you or even like you, could he possibly have lied about something so big?! Or bought you something nice with all that fucking drug money he stole. Not that you’d want it or expected it, but why wouldn’t you want to treat someone you love as much as he claimed to? 

How could he sit there and make up what happened to Tom like that, when you were being so coddling and trying to be a caring ear. And Benny…Pope...if they were your friends they should have told you, that’s what real friends do…

But they weren’t your friends. They were never your friends. 

And if you went the other way, and considered that it was all true, that he did love you, that they were all your friends, and that he lied to you and threw stones to hurt you and push you away, how was that any better? You couldn't even think about a future not being with him, but obviously he could. He could watch you cry and question him and not even look at you, completely ignore you, then not even think about you again. No texts, no calls. No “I’m sorry, please come back.” Silence. 

How could it be so easy for him? How can he just go about his life like you never happened? Why did you still care?

Why did you still want him? 

Why did you still love him so so much. Part of you wishes they’d get on with it and just kill you. At least then you wouldn’t have to feel this excruciating pain. You wouldn’t have to see him show up to rescue you because he has to, to have to see his fucking face and every line, crinkle, scar, the bald patch in his beard and the tousled little curls that pop out of his hat…only for him to save you and then leave again, or die and then you have the guilt of killing a man who no longer loved you.

Yea. You think you’d rather die.

You feel like you’re going to throw up again. You’d let him force his cock in your mouth as far as it could go, let him tie you up and fuck you hard enough to leave bruises you had thought of as a badge of honor. You’d let him cum on your face. You’d let him fucking cum inside you! He’d gaslit you so you actually wanted him to tie you up with zip ties—-

Your heart almost stops. You can picture how his face looked exactly when he said it.

Sometimes rope can give over time.

That’s why we always used zip ties.

You look down at your bound hands.

They’re bound with rope.

#fix you fic #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

[asimpforyagami]

propmts 1, 5, 6, 7, 8 for kolya please

(if it's a bit much you can excluee 5)

↷ A/N ─ its never too much nonnie :) ilyy ty for sending these reqs!

★ PROMPT ─ 1, 5, 6, 7, 8

!! FT. ─ nikolai

─ wearing his clothes

Nikolai had known for ages that you had your eyes on his clothes. The way you droned about how your date outfits looked so bland and probably needed the addition of boots, how you complained about cold hands wanting to wear gloves, how you put on his hat and sent him pictures captioned "It looks better on me."

Especially with Halloween just around the corner, and you suggesting you two switch outfits for the day, it became all the more obvious.

"But, dove," Nikolai whined. "My suit is a part of me."

"No," you giggled. "I'm the clown of the couple tonight."

"Well, I must say that's a very cute clown. Clowns are supposed to be scary, right?"

"You're not scary."

"You're right," he said. "I'm not scary. I'm completely bonkers!"

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

─ kissing

"Ah, it's good to be back," Nikolai stretched his arms.

"What do you mean? You were right here," you said.

Nikolai gasped. "How vile of you! To overlook my struggle from the hall to the kitchen, all to get you a refill of the popcorn."

"You could've just used your ability."

"Doveeeeee," he whined, and you sighed. Of course, now that he has said that he's been away, he will not stop until he gets what he wants from you.

"Fine," you roll your eyes, and Nikolai immediately uses his fingers to press your cheeks together in a pout, giggling before pressing a long kiss on your lips.

You close your eyes and he releases your cheeks, your lips still in the duck faced pout. A few seconds passed like that. Then, Nikolai pulled away and stared at you before tackling you on the couch and kissing all over your face. His hat fell somewhere on the ground as he tickled your stomach, your face red with laughter and overwhelmed by the love he was showering you with.

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

─ cuddling

"Dove-"

"Shh," you shushed him and Nikolai immediately fell quiet.

You had put one of your legs on his, trapping him with both your arms around his torso, interlocking behind his back. This was probably the first time Nikolai had reluctantly agreed to be the little spoon.

'Reluctantly' because of the reasoning that he did not like being "trapped'. He claimed that he was a 'free bird' and desired 'eternal freedom'.

Nikolai sighed. Sure, the feeling of you practically choking him with your face buried in his neck was different. He felt numb, staring ahead of you as you hugged him.

Thinking... Thinking about you. How you had changed him so much. How he felt much, much more free than he ever was when he was with you. How a hug and a kiss would make him forget all his problems, all that bound him to the world.

He thought and thought. About how if this was any other person he would be ashamed at being trapped by their body this way. About how surreal your warm breath felt against his neck. About how if this was the 'worst case scenario', he was completely okay with it.

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

─ reading to him

"And the little Swallow asked the Prince, ''Why are you weeping then?'," you recited, book on your lap as Nikolai stared at you with interest.

He was never one to read stories. He'd rather they be read to him, which led to this moment, with you lying on the one-seat sofa and him on the longer couch, propped up on his elbows and feet dangling along your words.

"What did the Prince say then?" he asked excitedly, and you turned the page before continuing the story.

Funny, he thought, how you always managed to get books and stories that he likes. Or maybe, as his bi-colour eyes turned glossy with admiration for your beauty, it was only because you were the one reading them that he enjoyed them so much.

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

─ nightmare

You shook Nikolai awake. He had been twitching and shaking in his sleep, breathing hitching when he woke up with a gasp.

"You okay? What's wrong?" you asked, concerned.

"Nothing," he replied too quickly, eyes still hazy.

"You're lying," you said firmly, propping yourself up on one shoulder and pressing a hand on his chest. "I can feel your heartbeat."

"I'm okay, dove," he said again. "Why are you awake at this hour?"

"Kolya, please be honest with me."

Nikolai sighed. He wanted to say that it was nothing, that he wasn't gonna let a stupid nightmare dictate his emotions. But perhaps he could use this as an opportunity for himself?

"Hold me?" he suggested instead.

You narrowed your eyes, but complied anyway. You pressed a kiss against his forehead, and Nikolai couldn't help but think that whatever the dream had been, he was glad that you were there for him always.

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

#bsd x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #bsd imagines #nikolai imagines #bsd fluff #nikolai fluff #bsd nikolai x reader #bsd nikolai gogol #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai #nikolai bsd #nikolai x you

[landoom]

F1 FANFICS REC LIST - Magical Realism

you don't have to know that it's haunted (8373 words) by mintchocolatechip97 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen Summary: At twenty-six, Charles is a witch, and a son, and a racecar driver. He’s learnt what magic can’t save him from, and when it soothes. He likes to think he has it all under control. But the most dangerous thing a witch can do is want. And Charles’s longings outnumber the fish of the Mediterranean Sea. Charles is a witch. Max finds out.

oOoOoOo

wilde (12801 words) by debrief Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: “I’m not sure how aware you are, but people online have started speculating about Oscar since last weekend,” Linda’s static voice comes through. Lando swivels around on his heel. “About Oscar being a merman? What? How—” “No,” Linda says, measured. “They’re speculating that he’s your wag.” A pause. “What’s a wag?” Oscar asks.

oOoOoOo

he may be your dog but he's wearing my collar (3611 words) by glasscushion Rating: Explicit Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: “I'll be two minutes, and then we can try and get that stupid collar off you.” Lando’s bottom lip drops and his face glazes over. “Huh?” His tongue slips out, fat and wet, and traces the edge of his front teeth. “The trophy. That's what it looks like, isn't it? A collar.” Oscar mimes hooking a finger inside a shirt collar and gags. “All tight like that, on your throat.” "Ha." It's not a laugh, just an open-mouthed noise. “Yeah. Suppose so.”

oOoOoOo

roll two ones on the dice (4190 words) by anderstorpgrandprix Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: “There we go,” Oscar mumbles, and the belt unravels from Lando’s wrist. Lando rubs his skin, looks at the faint red mark around it. Oscar starts to work on the knot around the bedpost and asks, “Do I wanna know why you’re tied up?” “So I wouldn’t go anywhere. Sleepwalk or teleport or whatever.” “Right,” Oscar huffs. “And now I’m here instead.”

oOoOoOo

no proof, not much (but you saw enough) (3494 words) by ipleadbritney Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: A soul bond is like any other type of magic; you can buy it in a bottle. Or, to be more precise, you can manufacture it. Oscar and Lando are accused of having an illegal soul bond.

oOoOoOo

from the ashes (phoenix rising) (8996 words) by 14CookiesGone Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: Oscar’s gotten used to the dull ache between his shoulder blades. His wings, which were not yet fully feathered when he stepped into his role as test and reserve driver at Alpine, have always carried an additional weight than they probably should. They’re also dull - a murky yellow and burnt orange combination that makes him look like the back end of forgotten autumn. A forgotten talent, perhaps. OR Oscar's wings begin to change during the 2023 season, and he does his best to figure out why.

oOoOoOo

Needs Improvement (7104 words) by peachbellini Rating: Explicit Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: Will you shut up? Oscar thinks, trying to remember where his bite point is, Lando’s voice ringing in his ears. He doesn’t want to say it out loud, be rude to him on the radio for the world to hear, but this is just silly. Distracting. I can’t drive with you shouting like that. You’re not going to disappoint anyone. The lights start to count up Wait Lando sounds confused. How can you hear what I’m thinking?

oOoOoOo

sju sorters blommor (5940 words) by anderstorpgrandprix Rating: Mature Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: “You should’ve heard Kim’s scream,” Oscar continues. He gestures down at his sneakers, then, at the purple stains covering almost the entire left shoe. “And I spilled smoothie all over myself.” “M’sorry,” Lando says. He doesn’t mean to, really, but it rushes out of him. He’s embarrassed, and tired, and sick of it, so his normally subpar brain-to-mouth filter is down for the count. Oscar huffs. “Why are you sorry? It’s not like you—oh. Oh no. Oh no.” Lando feels himself flush. He’s warm all over, skin prickling, and it doesn’t help that Oscar is suddenly bending over in laughter, slapping his thigh like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him. “It’s not funny.” Oscar keeps laughing, hands on his knees to support the way his body convulses. It's a bit over the top, Lando thinks. “You caused an earthquake!”

oOoOoOo

fluorescent (kid, adult and everything in between) (10515 words) by AnItalianFrie Rating: Not Rated Relationships: Alexander Albon/George Russell Summary: When George is five, he falls while playing in the garden of his house. His mum finds him there, crying on the ground and hugging his scrapped left knee, his face red, ugly snot dripping down his nose, and his skin glowing. or George is in love with Alex. He also glows. He tries to cope with both.

MASTERPOST

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 rpf #f1 fanfic #f1 fic rec #f1 rpf fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 rpf #fic rec #fic rec list

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── PEREGRINE // PROLOGUE

Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.

Chapter Synopsis: You are invited to the wedding of an old friend.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.1k

Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters

A/N: literally shaking as i post this because i have NOT been in the bllk fandom for long enough to be writing a fic for it but oh well #livelaughlove. some authors post new stories because they’re proud of their work. i post new stories because then when i write like shit i disappoint less people.

divider credits: @/benkeibear

Seishiro Nagi had always been beautiful when he ran, albeit atypical in his form. He lacked the fierceness that the others on his team had, his feet never pounding against the turf the way theirs did, his strides never swallowing the ground in quite that same manner. Instead, his steps were light, like he was dancing, or perhaps flying, like he was a falcon diving across the field in pursuit of his next goal.

He was the only thing that could unite your entire miserable, shitty town. Everyone was outside that day, crowding in restaurants to crane their necks at the little screen in the corner, pressing together in the square to peer up at the projection of the tied match, which only had a few minutes left to go before the end of the second half.

Nagi had the ball. You weren’t really sure how he had gotten it, who had passed it to him or what maneuver he had used to get around the other team’s defense, but it was all irrelevant. He had the ball, and as he barreled towards the other team's goalkeeper, the entire town held its breath.

Even you, who were never supposed to have much interest in soccer nor in Seishiro Nagi, found yourself worrying your lower lip between your teeth, leaning forward slightly, clenching your fists by your sides.

“Come on, Nagi,” you murmured. “We’re so close. Come on.”

A few more steps and a strategic feint, and then he had made it behind the defenders. The town swelled with anticipation as victory became all but certain, as the clock ticked nearer and nearer to the moment when Nagi would pull off one of those impossible moves of his, where he would slam the ball into the net and win the game for his team once again.

But the moment never came. For some reason, right as he drew his leg back to shoot, Nagi froze. His foot never connected with the ball; instead, it slowly came back down to rest as he stared down at his muddy cleats.

“What is he doing?” someone said. The cheers turned to whispers as Nagi proved himself to be a statue, incapable of moving, of defending his possession, of scoring, of anything. He just stood there, and as one of the defenders stole the ball off of him and passed it to the opposing team’s striker, he did not make any attempts to turn around and make up for his mistake. He just stood there, contemplating something, a cloudy dreaminess settling over his eyes. It was the most disconcerting thing you had ever seen, that complete apathy in face of an imminent loss, that resignation to an eventuality which he himself had created.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” a man screamed, and then it was a mass chaos as the people who had been praising Nagi only seconds earlier turned to baying for his blood, demanding he never play again as a punishment for his great sin.

They got their wish. The next season, and the next, Seishiro Nagi spent every match on the bench, not even afforded the role of a substitute, no matter how tired the rest of the team grew without his relentless presence, how many games they lost when they did not have him to rely on.

That first season after his disastrous loss, he was made a mockery of. Every single news article was about his downfall, every reporter charting out with glee the exact moment that he had gone from the media’s darling to their newest scapegoat. By the second season, though, he was largely forgotten. There were more exciting things, newcomers who had entered the league and dominated matches with their own unique styles, and so when it became clear that Nagi would not give them the reactions that they were hoping for, the journalists turned to talking about those players instead.

After that, he stopped going to games entirely.

There was another woman in your bed. You could hear her shuffling footsteps, the way your fiancé hushed her, her giggles as she ducked into some hiding spot or another, likely behind his neatly pressed work suits. You could picture it now — such a domestic scene it must’ve been. His arm, wrapped around her shoulders as he guided her to the closet. Her fingers, still working themselves free from his light hair. His eyes, a bright amber that would be glimmering from the thrill of the near-miss. Her cheeks, which would be flushed from the shame of your early return home.

You sighed, pursing your lips and then undoing the knot of the ribbon holding together the bouquet of flowers in your hand. Pouring a cup of water into a crystal vase, you arranged the flowers carefully in it, making sure you did not prick your fingers on the thorny stems as you waited for your fiancé to come thundering down to greet you.

“Y/N! I didn’t think you’d be home so early!” he said, leaping off the bottom stair and waltzing into the kitchen, discreetly wiping his hands against his pants.

“Hey, Ryosuke,” you said. “No worries. I was actually just about to head out again; I had thought I’d wash the sheets tonight, but I think we’re out of detergent, so I’m going to run to the store and grab some.”

“Ah, okay,” he said. “How long do you think you’ll be?”

“About an hour,” you said. “I think I’ll stop by Chigiri’s on the way back.”

“Chigiri’s?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “What do you need from him?”

It was ironic. There the two of you were, both pretending like he wasn’t hiding a third in your bedroom, and yet you were the one who was facing his accusations, who was under suspicion for no other reason than because you wanted to visit your friend.

“I lent him our blender because his broke, remember?” you said. “I was going to see if he’s gotten a replacement yet or not.”

“I see,” he said, relaxing only slightly. “Well, don’t delay on my part, I guess. See you soon?”

“See you,” you said. “I’ll text you when I’m about ten minutes away. If you could warm up the leftovers in the fridge, I’d appreciate it. I’m a little hungry.”

“Of course,” he said. “Bye!”

“Bye,” you said. Once, he would’ve pressed a kiss to your cheek, or maybe even to your lips, but now, he only waved at you before bounding back up the stairs, calling out some excuse about folding his laundry over his shoulder. You watched him go for a moment, wishing you could chase after him and demand he love you again, demand he love you the way he used to, but it would be pointless. You were unconvinced that things would ever be that way again.

One of the lights in the store near your house was broken. It would flicker back to life periodically, struggling to stay lit, but its attempts were stuttered and pitifully in vain. It worsened the migraine building behind your temples, and you narrowed your eyes as you reached the laundry aisle and picked up the cheapest, smallest bottle of detergent you could find.

“You should get that light fixed,” you said to the cashier. He didn’t even look like he was out of high school yet, and as he scanned the bottle, he muttered something about how you should’ve just used the self-checkout line instead.

“I’ll tell my manager,” he said when it became clear that you were waiting for a response. “Cash or card?”

“Card,” you said, tapping it against the screen and signing your name with the attached stylus. “I don’t need a bag.”

“Have a nice day,” he said robotically, mechanically. “Next!”

The woman behind you, who was juggling a screaming baby, a whining child, and a week’s worth of groceries, began to try and empty her cart, but her child kept tugging at her arms and her baby kept crying and she kept dropping things, so it was altogether a pointless effort. The cashier let out an aggravated sigh, barely even sparing you a nod as you tucked the detergent in your pocket.

You furrowed your brow as you watched the woman, wondering if that was to be your future. Once you married Ryosuke, once you became Mrs. Kira, then wouldn’t children be the natural next step? Certainly, that’s what your parents would say.

“Hey,” you said to the child, tapping her on the head as she pulled on her mother’s sleeve once more. Upon feeling your touch against her hair, she froze, looking up at you with wide eyes. “I really like your hairstyle. Did you do it yourself?”

Her hair had been tied into two pigtails and then messily plaited, small pink bows decorating the end of each braid and matching her shirt. She peered at you owlishly, confused enough to quiet down for a moment. Her mother shot you a grateful look as her one hand was freed so that she could start to actually deal with her groceries.

“My mommy did it,” the girl said, stumbling over her words. “For school.”

“It’s very smart,” you said. “I bet everyone in your class was jealous.”

The girl thought about this before nodding. “Yeah, they were.”

“I’m glad I finished school already,” you said, pretending to shiver. “If I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have known what to do if you showed up looking like that!”

“Did your mommy not do your hair for you?” the girl said. You thought back to your own mother, your own days at school, and then you shook your head.

“She tried,” you said. “But no matter how elaborate the hairstyles she gave me were, they could never measure up to what you have right now.”

“Why not?” she said.

“Because,” you said. “I think your mother worked really hard on them, and that’s the most important thing. You should remember to say thank you to her when you can.”

“I always say please and thank you,” she said proudly, beaming at you, her two front teeth missing. “Mommy says it’s good manners.”

“Those are very good manners,” you agreed. “Now, it looks like your mother’s done with checking out. Let’s go to the car with her, alright?”

The girl nodded and darted ahead to grab her mother’s hand. Her mother sighed, going to free her hand from her daughter’s grip, but you stopped her.

“I’ve got it,” you said, picking up her grocery bags in both hands and nodding at the door. “Which way is your car? I’ll walk you there.”

“Oh, you — you don’t have to!” she said, fumbling in the face of the offer. “I can do it.”

“I don’t doubt you can,” you said. “But you shouldn’t have to. I’ll follow after you.”

Maybe it wasn’t the wisest decision for the woman to trust a stranger, but there was a sort of bone-deep exhaustion burrowing into her that must’ve made her accept the offer. So she only nodded at you and began to stride towards her car, unlocking it and opening the trunk so that you could put the groceries in it while she buckled her children into their respective car seats.

When she was distracted, you snuck the laundry detergent into one of the bags. It wasn’t as if you needed it; you had just gotten some the other day, and that had been the brand you preferred, too. The entire outing had just been an excuse for you to leave the house for enough time that Ryosuke’s new girl of the week could sneak out, as if she had never been there in the first place.

“Thank you so much for your help,” she said when you pressed the button to shut the trunk, stepping back and watching it slowly lower. “Er, what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you said, offering her your hand. She accepted it, shaking it so furiously it was a wonder your arm did not fly off.

“Thank you so much, Y/N. They’re so exhausting to bring along, but I have no other choice. I know it must be so irritating to the other shoppers, but…” she trailed off in defeat, her head hanging low. “I really do have no other choice. My husband’s always busy, and we can’t quite afford a babysitter or a nanny or anything like that, so they’re always with me.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “You have the right to be there, too. I hope you can always find help when you need it.”

“Thank you,” she said again. “You, too.”

“Thanks!” you said, waving at her as you made your way to your own car, only allowing your smile to drop once you were far enough that she wouldn’t notice the way it had disappeared.

You spent the drive to Chigiri’s in silence, muting the radio and amusing yourself with watching the street lamps turn on as it grew progressively darker out, their orange glows piercing through the misty night like cheerful planets, so at odds with your glum mood.

Wouldn’t Ryosuke be like that? Because of that one chance encounter, you could envision your future so clearly. It would be exactly the life that that woman led. You would have those children that he and your parents had always wanted, and you would care for them, and all the while, he would run around and sleep with any girl he could get into his bed, his existence entirely unaffected even as yours had been wrecked.

“So,” Chigiri said, stirring a spoonful of honey into the tea he had prepared for himself, his right leg extended on the coffee table before him. “When’s your wedding with that peacock bastard, anyways?”

You took a sip of the tea he had so graciously made for you before responding, taking the moment to mull over what you’d say as the liquid scalded your tongue.

“Lately, it seems like that’s all anyone ever asks me,” you said.

“It’s a pretty typical question to ask someone who’s engaged,” he said.

“That’s true,” you said. “Well, I don’t know when it is. We haven’t picked a date or made any concrete plans yet.”

“Geez, what was the point of proposing, then?” he said.

“You’ll be the first to hear when it happens,” you said.

“Really? Not Reo?” he said. You considered this.

“The second to hear,” you amended. He pretended to scowl at you, though it was half-heartedly done.

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “Though, I guess it does kind of make sense. Nobody hates Kira as much as I do, so you’d probably want to share the news with someone a bit more supportive.”

“It’s about time you let old grudges die,” you said. Chigiri glanced at his right leg before shaking his head.

“No way,” he said. “I’ll never forgive him.”

“It wasn’t even his fault,” you said weakly, though you knew it was just another rendition of the same argument you and he had had so many times before, the same argument that the two of you would probably keep having until you both stopped being friends altogether.

It was bound to happen. There was no way that you could stay friends with Chigiri in any way that lasted. Not as you were currently. Not as who you would soon become. That kind of person didn’t deserve to be friends with someone like Chigiri, who was always so bright and gentle, who even now was frowning slightly because of you.

“Whatever,” he said. “I won’t bring it up at your wedding. That’s the best I can give you.”

You thought that you should probably smile or thank him, but the thought of your impending wedding caused a lump to form in your throat, and it was all you could do to swallow it back without tears forming in your eyes. You gulped down the tea, hissing when it burnt your mouth, glad for the tears which sprang to your eyes and disguised the moment of weakness.

“Sorry,” you said to Chigiri, who only snorted and handed you a napkin to dab at your lips with. “Speaking of which, do you think you’d be okay with wearing a dress and being one of my bridesmaids? I’m woefully lacking in the department.”

“No,” Chigiri said. “Please, make some friends. It’ll actually be embarrassing if you have no one on your side of the wedding.”

“Sorry, but some of us had better things to do in high school than socializing,” you said, tossing a pillow at him. He caught it in one hand and glared at you before chucking it back, full-force. It landed at your side, narrowly avoiding smashing into your face, and then it was your turn to glare at him.

“For your information, I also had better things to do, but somehow, I made time to get to know people,” he said.

“Oh, yeah? Name three of your friends,” you said. He opened his mouth, but you stopped him before he could speak. “Not me, not Reo, and not May.”

He closed his mouth. “Okay, you got me there. Maybe I was more focused on soccer than I realized…”

“Maybe,” you said, though your tea suddenly tasted sour at the mention of soccer.

“I’ll wear a dress if you’ll wear a suit and draw on a mustache at my wedding,” he offered.

“Um, no,” you said.

“Then I guess we’ll both be embarrassed,” he said.

“That’s even assuming you find someone you like enough to propose to, and that that person says yes,” you said.

“I will!” he said. “Just you wait. I’ll make you eat your words!”

“Whatever you say,” you said. “I still think you’re going to die alone, by the way.”

“Better than living with that excuse for a man that you plan on marrying,” he said.

Just like everything else regarding your relationship with Ryosuke, your protests were false and weak. You didn’t mean them. In fact, you even agreed with Chigiri, but if you didn’t speak up, then who would? If you didn’t say something, then all of the time you had spent with him would’ve been a waste. Everything would’ve been a waste, and that was something you could not allow.

“I’m back!” you called out as you re-entered the house, though you knew that even Ryosuke wasn’t foolish enough to risk being caught when he had had so many advance warnings and so much time to prepare for your arrival.

“There she is!” he said, grinning up at you from the dining table, not even a guilty twinge to his words as he spoke — not that you had been expecting any. “Your food’s on the counter, babe.”

“Looks good,” you said, picking up the plate and sitting across from him, picking at the pasta with a fork, pushing it around without lifting any, unable to bring yourself to actually eat it. “You didn’t have to cook, though. There was stuff in the fridge.”

“I know, but I wanted to,” he said. “Can’t I do nice things for my favorite girl every now and then?”

You knew what that clever wordplay implied. His favorite girl, but not his only. You supposed he must’ve been proud of it, of that private joke made for an audience of exactly one.

“I guess there’s no reason why you can’t,” you said. “It’s good.”

“Anytime,” he said. “Now, listen, I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?” you said, preparing yourself for him to say that he wanted to move again or that he wanted to get rid of your cat or something equally as preposterous, as he often did when he started his sentence off with that particular phrase. “And what about?”

“We’ve been engaged for a while,” he said.

“Yes,” you said cautiously, internally cursing Chigiri, believing that he must’ve spoken this entire conversation into existence with his playful inquiries from earlier.

“So we should probably pick a date for the wedding and start preparing for it and all, don’t you think?” he said.

No, you wanted to scream at him. No, I don’t think so. I don’t want to. Nothing has to change. Don’t let it change.

You were saved from having to answer by your cell phone ringing. Without apologizing, you picked up, because there were very few people who would ever call you, and almost all of them were more important than Ryosuke.

“Y/N L/N,” a familiar voice said. Every bit of despair which had crept over you vanished in an instant at that sound, and this time when you smiled, it wasn’t forced.

“Reo!” you said. Ryosuke frowned, but you ignored him. “How late is it over there?”

“It’s early, actually, but it’s okay. I was waking up to go to the gym, anyways, and I figured I’d call you while I’m at it,” he said.

“That makes sense. What’s up?” you said.

“Can’t I just have called you because I miss you so much?” he said.

“You could have, but you wouldn’t,” you said. “What’s the real reason?”

“You’re annoying,” he said.

“Mhm,” you said.

“Fine, yes, I was calling you for a reason, but I do also miss you a lot, so don’t think I don’t!” he said.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you said.

“You know how I proposed to May a couple of years ago?” he said.

“I was there,” you reminded him. “And by the way, you’re lucky I was! The whole reason I went to college abroad was so that I had an excuse to never return to that place, so for you to go back and live there has really been inconvenient.”

“I can’t help that this is where our corporation’s headquarters are,” he said awkwardly. “I kind of have to live here.” You scoffed.

“Whatever. I’m not going to visit again, so if that’s what you’re calling about, then you might as well hang up,” you said.

“Seriously? Nothing can convince you to come?” he said, letting out a chuckle, the cocksure one he had inherited from his father. It was the one thing you hated most about him, but he had never managed to break the habit, no matter how many times you pointed it out.

“Nope,” you said. “Nothing.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Ryosuke said. You waved him off dismissively, mouthing tell you later at him when he pouted grumpily.

“Not even your own best friend’s wedding?” he pressed. You paused, taken aback by the sudden turn.

“What?” you squealed. “Like, an official wedding? You have the day picked out and all?”

“Calm down, woman, it’s not that serious,” he said. You could hear his wince through the phone, but you were too excited to care.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you said.

“So, funny thing, that’s actually what I’m doing right now,” he said. You clicked your tongue.

“Shut up,” you said. “I can’t believe you’re actually getting married. It feels like just yesterday I was introducing the two of you.”

“I know,” he said fondly. “We’ve been arguing the whole time about whose side of the wedding party you’ll be on. At the moment, I think I’m winning, but I don’t know how long that’ll last.”

“You guys just assumed I would come?” you said.

“Will you not?” he said. You glanced at Ryosuke, who raised his eyebrows at you.

“Give me a second,” you said.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting,” he said. You put the phone on mute and set it on the table.

“Reo and May are getting married,” you said. “Soon. They want me to come.”

“Of course they would. You’re best friends with both of them,” Ryosuke said. You waited for him to reassure you, to tell you that he knew it would be hard for you to go back to your hometown but that the two of you could get through it together. However, he didn’t. You weren’t even sure why you had waited in the first place. You had known that he wasn’t that person anymore for a very long time now. Maybe it was just an old habit that you couldn’t let die quite yet. Maybe you would always be waiting for him.

“I should go, then,” you said.

“Obviously,” he said. “And I’ll come this time.”

“Naturally,” you said, because it would raise too many questions if you didn’t bring your fiancé to your best friend’s wedding. It had been bad enough when he hadn’t come with you the last time, but you had managed to soothe everyone’s concerns with stories about work being too much, how he would’ve loved to visit but had such a strict boss that he just couldn’t.

As per usual, those had all been lies. You had been the one to demand he stay back. You didn’t tell him the reason, because it hardly made sense to you, but the truth was that the thought of Ryosuke walking through the streets that had once belonged to someone else was counterintuitive. Wrong. Those steps were not his to make. That secret was not his to tarnish.

“What’s the verdict?” Reo said when you unmuted the phone and held it back up to your ear. Ryosuke leaned over and gathered your dishes, taking them with his own and turning on the sink, running them under the water, drowning out the sound of your voice.

“Don’t ask that as if you don’t know the answer, idiot,” you said. “It seems you got lucky once again. I’ll be there, and so will Ryosuke.”

Reo choked audibly. “Ryosuke? Do you mean Kira?”

“We’ve been engaged longer than you and May have. Don’t you think it would be a little weird if I still called him by his surname?” you said.

“That’s true. I was just surprised you’re still with him, but I shouldn’t have been. Sorry,” he said. “Is he going to be your plus one?”

“Again, he is my fiancé,” you said, glancing over to where he was humming to himself as he scrubbed the sauce off of the plates. Your heart panged at the sight. Sometimes, you thought that you were being unfair to him. You would hate and hate him, and then he would do something that would remind you why you had ever loved him in the first place. “Who else would I bring?”

“I don’t know, Chigiri?” he said. “You talk about him way more than you do Kira.”

“He’s my friend,” you said. “I just spend more time with him.”

“Hey, it’s not my business. If you want to have an affair, then that’s your prerogative. Although, given the history between those two, Chigiri might not be the best choice…” he said.

“You suck,” you said as he burst into laughter.

“Kidding, kidding. Anyways, May beat me to inviting Chigiri, so he couldn’t be your plus one regardless, since he’s a traitor,” he said.

“Who says I won’t decide to be on May’s side after all?” you said. “She’d probably make me her maid of honor.”

“Uh,” Reo said. “If that’s the case, then you should definitely be on my side.”

“Why is that?” you said.

“I mean, you know how the maid of honor and the best man usually spend a lot of time together?” he said nervously.

“Sure,” you said, although you really didn’t, considering you hadn’t been invited to very many weddings before, and certainly none where you had been the maid of honor.

“Well, there’s no gentle way to put this,” he said.

“Just spit it out,” you said.

“Um, just know that I really love you a lot,” he said. “But I already picked my best man.”

“How is that something you’d need to put gently? Considering my lack of ‘man’ qualifications, I wasn’t exactly expecting to get the role,” you said.

“It’s Nagi.”

Unbidden, your eyebrows shot up in surprise, but your initial burst of shock quickly settled, and you realized it made enough sense that you shouldn’t really question it. “Okay.”

“I know you guys didn’t get along in high school and all, but he was the only one I could think of,” Reo said.

“Okay,” you said.

“But you’re my best friend, too, and don’t you dare forget that!” he continued.

“Reo,” you said, but he was too busy rambling to notice.

“Just please get along with him. For my sake! And May’s, if you decide to be her maid of honor,” he said.

“Reo,” you tried again.

“You don’t even have to be friends! Just mutually ignore one another or something, it’ll go much smoother that way. Or, well, if you’re the maid of honor and he’s the best man, I guess you can’t really ignore one another, so that’s a dilemma…wait, I know! You can treat him like he’s just one of your coworkers—”

“Reo!” you said, finally growing frustrated enough to cut him off. “It’s okay. High school was years ago. Neither of us is going to let the past impact the present, I’m sure. You have more important things to be stressing out about; this shouldn’t even be on your list of worries, man. You’re getting married!”

“You promise?” he said.

“Promise,” you said.

“I’m serious. I don’t want any fights or anything. Whatever hatred you had for him, put it behind you,” he said.

“I did that already,” you said. “Many years past. I’m not a teenage girl anymore. People from back then don’t bother me.”

“Not even your parents?” he said.

“Low blow, Mr. Mikage,” you said. But of course, he didn’t even know the half of it, so how could you blame him for what he had surely believed to be a harmless joke? “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to them in a while, either.”

“Have they even met Kira yet?” he said.

“No,” you said.

“Great, then you can introduce him to them! It’ll be a double-win type of trip,” he said.

“Right,” you said. He sounded so happy that you couldn’t bear to tell him the truth, that the thought of introducing Ryosuke to your parents was actually akin to torture. Besides, what would he do if you did tell him? It was something he could never comprehend.

“Now I can’t wait!” he said.

“Me, either,” you said. “And Reo?”

“Yes?”

“Tell May I’m choosing her side,” you said.

“What? You seriously want to risk possibly being the maid of honor, even after everything I told you?” he said.

You thought about what the role might entail. Who the role might entail. And then you looked over at Ryosuke, who was putting the leftover pasta back in the fridge. He locked eyes with you and then jokingly scrunched his nose. You thought you might’ve found it endearing when you had first met him.

“Yeah,” you said. “I do.”

#nagi x reader #nagi x y/n #nagi x you #nagi seishiro #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #modern au #peregrine #m1ckeyb3rry writes