#and I don’t want to be the one worrying about it

[cupid-styles]

brat (sex columnist!harry x best friend!y/n)

in which y/n is best friends with harry, a sex columnist, who needs a little help answering a reader's question.

word count: 3k

content warnings: SMUT!!!! (mean dom/bratty sub dynamic, dirty talk, pussy spanking, paddling, sir kink, degradation, slight edging, fingering)

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

“You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m really not.”

“No, but you are.”

“It would be for work and work only—”

“I don’t care.”

Harry sighs as he lifts a hand to run it through his curly hair. The noisy puff of air is filled with unsaid annoyance and Y/N tries her best not to roll her eyes at her best friend’s stubbornness, instead focusing on toying with the bracelet around her wrist. Instead of replying, he quickly runs his fingertips over the trackpad on his laptop so it glows back to life. 

“Can you at least hear me out?” he asks, his tone teetering on a polite plea, “You know writing about sex is my job. How am I supposed to help this person out when I can’t even offer a fair answer?”

Y/N crosses her arms and shrugs and Harry wishes he could reach across the couch and push them to her sides. 

“What makes you think I have any experience being a sub, anyway?” she fires back, keeping her eyes glued on the TV in front of them.

They're currently binging the newest season of The Bachelor, but Harry was more so using the dialogue and Y/N’s periodic gasps as background noise. For the past year or so, he’s held down a job at an online publication as a sex columnist. He loves it — people write in anonymously, asking him questions about everything from premature ejaculation to open relationships. Under the pen name H.E. Bell, he gets paid to write lengthy, thoughtful responses, helping his readers with approaching whatever sexual issue they’re facing. And this week, his editor really wants him to address a particular question about a dominant and submissive relationship. 

The thing is, though, is the letter comes from a sub. And Harry’s a dom. 

A mean one, at that.

So while Y/N’s diving into a pint of her favorite flavor of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream (Phish Food, obviously), and Harry’s trying his best — and miserably failing — to place himself in the shoes of his submissive reader, he knows what he has to do.

“I hate to tell you, but you scream submissive,” Harry replies, pushing his laptop off of the couch and onto the coffee table. “Don’t even try to deny it. Just… just hear me out. Please. My deadline’s tomorrow afternoon.”

Y/N lets out an irritated huff as she grabs the TV remote and presses pause. Silently, she sits back against the couch, facing her best friend, and shoots him a displeased expression; a wordless allowance to speak. 

“I’m a dom and I’ve literally always been that way. You’re a sub, through-and-through. This person is asking about situations pertaining to experience as a submissive, and I can’t really provide them with the advice that they’re looking for since I’ve never been in that headspace.”

Y/N shrugs carelessly. She’s unbothered by his frank analysis of her subordinate behavior — it’s not exactly surprising that Harry, the sex columnist, is able to identify a sub, dom, or switch from 10 miles away. But that doesn’t mean she has to get dragged into his research, or whatever the hell he was trying to play it off as.

“Why don’t you just skip the question, then?” Y/N asks. “If you don’t have the right resources to offer an answer—”

“My editor thinks it’ll bring in a lot of page views,” he says, his throat bobbing with a swallow. His eyebrows draw together some, creating a small worried wrinkle between them. “Listen, I’ll fuck off if you’re totally uncomfortable with helping me, but you’re my best friend and I don’t know who else I could ask with this short of a timeframe.”

She sighs and brings her knees up to her chest. 

“Fine. Read me the question.”

A grin breaks out on Harry’s face as he grabs his laptop. He taps on the trackpad a few times as he brings the email up on the screen, eyes scanning over his bright inbox. 

“Okay, here’s what they said,” he clears his throat and Y/N really does roll her eyes this time, “Dear H.E.— I’ve been in a sexual relationship with my dominant for three months. Up until now, we’ve clicked really well. The chemistry is great and we always mesh really well both during scenes and aftercare. But lately, I’m worried I’ve been a little too bratty. For context, I’m a bratty sub with an attitude, but my dom knew that going into this. I fear that they’ll grow tired of my nonsense and insistent disobedience, but when I’m in my subspace or engaging in a scene with them, it’s hard for me to pull away from it. What should I do? Do you have any advice for what I can do as a sub to best help my dom?”

Y/N’s plucking at her bottom lip as Harry glances up from his computer. Blinking, she thinks for a moment before crafting a response.

“Well, it sounds like the sub needs to communicate their feelings to their dom. There seems to be a lot of insecurity.” she says. He hums, nodding his head as he types a few words on his keyboard. 

“Yeah, that’s true,” he murmurs, “They said it’s hard for them not to be in that bratty headspace, though.”

She shrugs, “I mean, if you’re a bratty sub, you’re a bratty sub. That’s just who you are.”

“Do you think there are any punishments that would work, then?”

“You’re the dom, shouldn’t you be able to answer that question?”

“I guess,” he replies, running his palm over the short bit of facial hair that’s grown on his chin in the past few days. “Spanking, edging, overstimulation, types of shibari, I guess…”

Y/N’s thighs squeeze involuntarily.

“...I just don’t know what works best.” he finishes his sentence, halting the tapping of his fingertips over the keyboard. “What do you think?”

She forces a swallow to coat her dry throat. “It depends.” she pushes out.

“Well, what works for you?”

She thinks for a moment. It’s been a minute since she’s been in a proper dominant/submissive dynamic — the last few times she’s had sex have all been one night stands and quick flings, all of which don’t allow enough time to learn about hard limits, punishments, and safe words. Her brain has to float back to a year ago, when she was sleeping with Reese, a soft dom who tried his best to tame her bratty nature but came back empty every time. He was good — the sex was good, but she wanted — no, needed — more.

“I don’t think I’ve ever really had a dominant… achieve that, I guess,” she mumbles thoughtfully. “I mean, I know what I like, as far as punishments go. But it’s not really about what the submissive likes, is it?”

“No,” Harry agrees. He hums as he opens up a second tab and she watches as he types the words “punishments for submissives” into the search engine. She sniffles and attempts to disregard the way her core instantly clenches. 

He’s silent as he reads through a few lists, occasionally jotting down some notes into his Google doc. Y/N swallows noisily when he glances back up at her, this time prepared with an apparent list of proposed consequences. 

“Okay, can you just tell me which ones you think most submissives would be fine with?”

She nods.

“Withgoing underwear in public?”

“Mhm.”

“Pussy spanking?”

“Yeah.”

“Nipple wax play?”

“Depends on the sub’s pain tolerance, but um… yeah.”

“Paddling?”

“I actually haven’t done that one before.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise. 

“No?”

She shakes her head. “None of my doms have ever had one.”

“Doesn’t sound like they were proper doms, then.”

“They’ve all been on the softer side,” Y/N explains shyly. “But… yeah. I guess it’s always something I’ve wanted to try.”

“Is it?” 

She can tell by the way his eyes have darkened, that there’s something wicked stirring in that brain of his. She knows she can put a stop to this now if she wants — he’s her best friend and he wouldn’t care if she ended the conversation here and now. 

But she doesn’t.

Not for a second.

So instead she nods. And she’s completely unsurprised by the next sentence that falls from his lips.

“Do you want to try it now?”

By now, Y/N’s brain is all fuzzy and melty, so she doesn’t even think before she’s nodding her head eagerly. Harry chuckles and closes his laptop, shuffling onto his knees to lean forward and pluck at her bottom lip. A smirk curves at his mouth as she leans into his touch.

“Getting quite desperate on me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, cradling her cheek into his palm. “Get naked for me then and I’ll go get the paddle. No touching while I’m gone.”

Her stomach flips at the domineering tone in his voice. All too quickly, they’ve fallen into their most intimate roles, and Harry’s carrying himself to his bedroom as Y/N continues sitting there, all gooey-eyed and foggy. And maybe he should have expected it when he returns back to the living room a few moments later to see her sprawled out across the length of the couch, her bralette and underwear still on with her fingers tucked beneath the waistband of the fabric.

“Kitten,” Harry all but growls, making Y/N shiver at the pet name, “Are you already disobeying me?”

She hums as she watches him through half-lidded eyes, soft fingertips petting at her pearled clit. His eyes glimpse down at the tented material and he instantly sets the dark red paddle down on the carpeted floor, kneeling between her legs.

“What’s your color?” he breathes, locking a hand around her ankle. Her pussy quivers just from the simple grasp.

“Green,” she answers, “I’ll tell you if anything changes. Safe word is licorice.”

Harry nods, allowing his large hands to float up her legs. They reach the gusset of her sodden underwear and he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, snapping the fabric against her swollen pussy.

“Take your hand out of your panties now and I won’t smack your pussy until she’s raw.”

Y/N doesn’t move. In fact, he thinks her circling fingers only quicken.

“I’ll give you one last warning,” he grits out, squeezing the flesh of her thighs, “I’m not a nice dominant. You won’t be able to walk if you keep going against me.”

But of course, her hand stays glued to the bundle of nerves. Instead, she breathes out a sultry response: “Think I could cum like this, having you watch me.”

In a moment, her cotton underwear is being ripped from her body and thrown aside. He’s swift in his movements as he collects her wrists in his palm, squeezing them harshly and throwing them up, high above her body. She gasps, noisy and wet.

“I don’t fuck around with brats like you for a reason.” 

The first spank he issues to her puffy pussy is quick and fleeting, hardly offering a lick of pain. He’s eager to find where her pain threshold lies; if she’s all talk or if she can take the full force of his large palm. By the time he lands the sixth one, her skin now reddening beneath his smacks, he thinks he’s found it and he admits, he’s relatively impressed. 

“Aw, did that one hurt?” Harry mocks, watching as her face twists in an expression of discomfort. “That’s because punishments are meant to be mean. You’re not supposed to enjoy them, little brat. You’ve had it too easy, hm?”

“H-haven’t,” she stutters out, wincing as he delivers a seventh, “I’m good, sir, I swear—”

“Oh, bull-fuckin’-shit,” he retorts. “You’re a silly little brat is what you are.”

“‘m not—”

Smack—

“You are.”

She whines until he reaches the tenth one. She’s a wiggly mess of sniffles and whimpers and he shushes her, brushing a thumb over her clit. She gasps lowly and he laughs.

“On your belly.”

This time, Y/N doesn’t defy him and Harry is admittedly surprised. She buries her face in the throw pillow and he rolls his eyes at the theatrics. Before picking the paddle up off the floor, his blunt fingertips scratch at her scalp, gentle and kind as they trail down to the nape of her neck. 

“What’s your color, kitten?” he asks softly, rubbing a docile palm over her bare ass.

“Green, sir.”

“Do you still want to try the paddle?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, “We’ll start with five and then see where you’re at. You know what to say if you want me to stop, right?”

“Red or licorice, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Since it’s her first time, he decides to ease her into it. He uses only a smidgen of his strength to smack the paddle against the thick of her cheek, watching as the wood ricochets. Her skin jiggles in response and he swallows, noting the way her nails already dig into the couch.

The second and third are just as light but he adds a bit more pressure to the fourth and fifth. When he’s finished, he rubs over the flush skin, slow and intentional.

“How was that?” he asks. 

“Good,” she replies, her voice slightly muffled from the pillow, “I can take more.”

A hand quickly finds its way to the back of her neck and her eyes instantly widen. He shifts her head, smushing her cheek into the soft fabric so her voice is no longer dulled. 

“Need to hear you loud and clear,” Harry says. “And now you’ll count for me.”

When the oak paddle makes contact with her ass for the sixth time, she grits her teeth but still calls out the number. She follows suit for the next five and, while it’s painful and harsh in the most uncomfortable of ways, she’d be lying if she said her skin didn’t feel like it was on fire. She’s burning for him, feeling her arousal leak down between the apex of her thighs with every last spank. 

“Good job, kitten,” Harry announces, dropping the paddle at the end of the set. “You did good, hm? Did the bratty girl learn her lesson?”

Y/N’s bottom lip juts out in a pout when his soft palms begin to soothe her aching bum. He instantly takes notice, wrinkling his eyebrows in confusion. 

“Can’t give you anymore tonight, kitten. It was only your first time.”

Instead of replying, she simply shakes her head.

“Use your words. I’m not a mindreader, brat.”

Swallowing, she lifts her head up slightly, only enough to give her a peek of Harry’s concerned expression. 

“W-wanna cum,” she mumbles, blinking at him, “Will you make me cum, sir?”

And instead of immediately getting what she wants, Harry does the unthinkable.

He rolls his eyes.

“You act like a slutty brat all night, begging to get paddled, and now you want me to make you cum?” 

She nods, ashamed and embarrassed.

“What the fuck makes you think you deserve that?”

“I-I took my spankings and paddlings without complaining. And I didn’t disobey you a-after that.”

“But you did defy me to begin with, didn’t you?” he pushes, weaving his hand into the hair at the back of her head. His fist tightens and he lifts her head so her neck cranes back. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And now you want to cum.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But not only do you want to cum— you want me to make you cum.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fine then,” he decides, sitting down and leaning back against the couch cushions. “Come here. Straddle me.”

She forces herself onto her knees and ignores the way her ass and pussy both sting from her punishments. Right now, all she can focus on is her buzzing clit and its need for attention. 

She does as she’s told and splits her thighs to fit his own legs between them. Almost instantly, he cups a hand beneath her mouth and glares at her expectantly. 

“Spit, brat. Are you dumb?”

She shakes her head, allowing saliva to pool behind her lips before spitting it into his palm. With his eyes staring into hers, he lowers his spit-slick hand down to her mound and pushes a finger inside of her. Immediately, she clenches around it, her eyes threatening to flutter shut.

“Keep them open,” he instructs, “Jesus, your cunt is already milking me.”

She swallows and forces herself to maintain eye contact with the man sitting before her. He’s merciless in his ministrations, especially when he nestles a second, then a third finger and curls them up to her most sensitive spot. Her hands form tight fists as she grinds against his hand, moaning loudly when his thumb reaches her clit. 

“What a desperate little pussy,” he murmurs, speeding up the tight circles over the swollen bundle of nerves, “You like getting stretched out, don’t you? Say it.”

“I-I love when you stretch me out, sir.”

“Of course you do,” he smirks viciously, “Is your cunt gonna cum like this?”

“Y-yes, sir—”

“Ask for permission first, kitty.”

“Please sir, can I cum? P-please?”

She’s whimpery and mewling as she bounces helplessly on his fingers, the ribbon in her lower stomach threatening to unravel at any given moment. He hums, stilling the digits inside of her.

“Hold it.”

“Sir—”

“Hold it, brat.”

Her pussy clenches around him but she does. She restrains herself until he finally allows the ribbon to come undone, a slew of whines and curses sounding from her plush lips as she does.

It feels like it goes on forever but when the pleasure finally ceases, she collapses into his chest. Harry gently pulls his fingers from her center and wraps an arm around her waist, giving it a gentle, loving squeeze. 

He lets her stay like that for a bit and, maybe selfishly, he enjoys having her limp, exhausted body so close to his. 

“Gotta clean you up and rub some salve on your bum,” he finally manages out, ducking down to whisper the words in her ear. 

Tiredly, she nuzzles her head against his shoulder. “Five more minutes?”

He swallows. 

He doesn’t think she’s in her subspace, but he knows she’s sleepy and fuzzy from the mix of pain and pleasure he just instilled on her body.

And so for that, he’ll give her five more minutes.

Six, if she’s lucky.

#writing #harry styles #bffrry #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles filth #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles smutty fanfic #harry's house #hs4 #harry's house album #fine line #one direction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles angst #harry styles drabble

[luveline]

HI MLLLL! I absolutely loved your fainting fic with James! Can you write like a part a part 2 or like a follow up where reader starts realizing that James isn’t as bad as she thought and she falls for him as he takes care of her bc he’s really worried? I love them sm 🥹

James takes care of you when you faint

James is acting weirder than usual… sort of… nice? fem, 1.2k

The days after you faint are just as hot, but you come into work. You can’t afford to miss it, and it’s not as though you’ll make the same mistake twice. 

The memory of what happened is hazy at the start. James had just opened the window, the breeze that filtered in cooling your hot skin. You’d felt sick, you’d tried to stand, and your head had gone blank. 

You woke with your face in James’ hand. You can remember it if you think about it enough, his head tilted down toward you, the sunshine on his skin, his soft smile. He’d felt like a different person. 

You’d felt different. 

“Can you send me that information from the lab, please?” 

You glance away from your computer, eyes tired. “Sorry?” 

“For the, uh, Mr. Nguyen?” James asks. “You didn’t send them to me. I can’t do them if you don’t send them.” 

“Right.” You blink away the phantom of his hand on your cheek. “Okay.” 

“Are you feeling alright?” 

That’s all he asks. Every day since you passed out, at various times and in various ways. Are you okay? Are you alright? Is it too hot in here? Do you want to swap desks with me? That last one had been a little patronising. You’d told him to leave you alone. Your desk is right next to the radiator in winter, it’s prime real estate, and you’re not giving it up just because you got a bit hot. 

“I’m fine,” you murmur, turning back to your computer to open outlook. “Just thinking.” 

“About what?” 

“About you not talking to me.” 

“Funny.” 

You drag and drop the paperwork for the tests he’d wanted. It’s easy to render an invoice but you hate doing it because it involves a lot of talking back and forth with clients. James, on the other hand, loves to talk. 

“There, sent it,” you say.

“Thank you.” 

Awkward. You pretend to be busier than you are for a few minutes, stealing company time without remorse. James types up an email beside you, the click of his keys quick and loud in your ears. 

Remus pops a pen lid across the way, scribbling onto a post it note that he sticks on his monitor. You know what time it is from the sounds alone. A half a minute later, Sirius slinks up from the front of the office to wrap his arm around Remus’ shoulders, sing-songing, “You’re coming with me, handsome.” 

“Are you coming?” Remus asks James. 

There’s a lapse of quiet. You stare at your computer, aware of a silent conversation, but not privy to its content. “I think I’ll stay,” James says eventually. 

“Okie dokie. Y/N, do you want to come, lovely?” Remus asks. “It’s not too hot.” 

“I’m fine,” you say, “thanks. Thank you.” 

You don’t feel like yourself since you fainted. You’d hoped it would go away once you had a better night’s sleep, flooded your system with cold water and good food, but you can’t kick it. You have no energy, no want to do more than turn up for work and go home again, and you know what it is that’s making you feel this way, but you can’t admit it to yourself. It crops up in your mind unbidden and you push it back down. 

“Sirius never used to act like that.” 

“What?” 

“Sirius. He was never like that when we were growing up. Love makes him pathetic.” 

Love is a tender touch. Sirius had laid his arm over Remus’ shoulder without any hug or kiss, but it was as loving as either. To touch someone like they need a kind hand. 

Like James had held your face. His arm behind your back as he led you to the break room. 

“Do you wanna come with me?” James asks. 

You hold in a second confused, What? He’s standing now, you hadn’t noticed him moving, his water bottle in hand as he pushes his chair back under the desk. 

“Don’t wanna leave you here and have you smash your head in when there’s no one around. Imagine the clean up.” 

You get up on impulse. You grab your drink, and the back of your chair, and you stand there wondering if you’re about to be dizzy again. Your chest feels tight, but that weight of unconsciousness doesn’t come. 

“Hey,” James says. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not like you today.” 

There’s a softness in his voice you can’t believe. “Can I eat lunch with you?” 

You wish that you said it to avoid the question. James wrinkles his nose, your heart drops into the pit of your stomach, but then he says, “I just invited you first.” 

“I… have to get my stuff from the fridge.”

“Me too.”

You walk slowly, worried it’s a joke, another stupid joke, but James comes up behind you and his hand graces your shoulder with the barest pressure. You can smell something sweet and warm on him, like jojoba oil. Maybe argan. “Sure you’re okay? You look peaky. Is it the heat?” he murmurs.

“It’s supposed to rain tonight.” 

“You can’t answer anything, can you?” James laughs with a vocal fry that goes straight to your chest. “I could ask you how many fingers you’d have and you’d tell me you have two hands.” 

James walks with you to the kitchen, where you gather your food and warm it in the microwave. He leads you to the break room, and makes sure to choose a table with enough space for you, even while people he’s friendly with beckon him forward. They look at you with unashamed curiosity, but James pretends not to notice so you do too. 

You’re expecting a joke. Aw, look, we’re finally on a date. Or Wow, you know how to use a spoon, I had no idea you were so dexterous. 

“Did you see they’re making a new movie about those aliens? The ones who can hear you everywhere you go?” 

You squeeze your spoon. “Uh, no, I didn’t see it.” 

“It looks awesome. I’ll show you the trailer on my computer after lunch, it looks just as good as the first two. That actress, the one with the really nice eyes is in it.” 

You have no idea who he means. James talks to you like a friend. He offers you some of his papris and he passes you a napkin from his pocket when you get food on your hands. James Potter might actually be a really nice guy. All it took was for you to garner his pity for him to show it. How pathetic you must seem to need it. 

“How do you feel now?” he asks as you clip the lid back onto your Tupperware. “You look better. Do you feel better?” 

“I’m fine, James.” 

“You frown so much I can’t tell.” He butts his knee against yours. “Alright, batten the hatches, I’m gonna carry you back to your desk.” 

“Why?” you ask in a rush. 

“Can’t fall if you don’t walk.” 

“James, don’t try it. I’m serious.” 

“You don’t sound serious. You sound like you want me to carry you.” 

“I’ll report you to Human Resources.” 

“For what? Being helpful?” 

“Harassment.” 

“Fine, but I’m not gonna catch you this time.” 

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

[eddiesxangel]

Never Have I Ever… | E.M x Virgin!Reader

TJ’s 2K Request celebration!

@nailbatanddungeon : “I have a request for youuu. Okay, this is Eddie x Virgin!reader, reader is still new to everything, but there is one thing that the reader needs but is scared to push because the reader is TOUCH STARVED (So am I)”

Cw: reader and Eddie are in their mid to late 20’s, touch starved virgin!reader, angst, fluff, alcohol, throwing up(too much alcohol consumption), hangovers, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, protected sex. Friends to lovers

WC: 3.1k

I hope you enjoy!! 💗

“You’ll get there; you’re just a late bloomer, is all”

A late bloomer, you’ve heard it your whole life- and you’re sick of it. Sick of feeling behind in life? You’re in your twenties now and getting absolutely shit-faced because you’ve never done anything in this game of never have I ever.

You, Nancy, Steve, Eddie, Robin, Jonathan, and a few others were at the block party, and you somehow ended up involved in the juvenile game.

“Never have I ever kissed the same gender,” you drank.

“Never have I ever dumped anyone,” you drank.

“Never have I ever smoked weed,” you drank.

“Never have I ever said the wrong name in bed.” That’s rich because you’ve never been in a bed with anyone to begin with.

You hadn’t relized how much you’ve had to drink until you stood up.

“Woah, you okay?” You hear Nancy speak as you wobble.

You had wanted to get up and get more to drink because, unlike the others, your cup was empty.

“Yeah.” You tried to get out, but it sounded more like a grunt to the others.

Ignoring their protests, you stumbled your way back to the kitchen, feeling sorry for yourself.

You fumble with the lid of the hard liquor bottle until a strong ring-clad hand clasps over yours. You freeze, pissed off and embarrassed, knowing who the hand belongs to.

Even in your inebriated state, you get that same feeling whenever he is around you. You feel the heat in your cheeks instantly as the butterflies in your stomach irrupts.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sweetheart.”

You look down, not wanting to see the look on his face.

“I don’t care” you slur. God, you will hate yourself in the morning.

Of all people, it had to be Eddie to come and check on you?

That’s how he was—always worried, always babying you because you “weren’t experienced in life,” according to his words, and it made you mad! It made you seem like a child, and you were sick of people treating you as such. You were a grown woman, you had a 9:00-5:00, an apartment, and a degree, but none of that mattered—not when it came to dating and love.

“Sweetheart, please, you need to slow down.”

“Why?” You rolled your eyes. “I’m a big girl I can handle my alcohol.” You huffed.

“I just think— "

"IM TIRED OF WHAT YOU THINK!" you've had enough. No one took you seriously, and you couldn't help that Eddie happened to be the only one to feel your wrath.

"Woah, okay-okay, I’m sorry."

“I’m sick of everyone treating me like a child!" the dam broke, and streams of mascara fell down your cheeks.

"I don't think you're a child." Eddie timidly reached out his comforting hand.

"Yes, you do."

"When have— "

"ANY TIME WE ARE OUT, EDDIE! Like last week at the bar, I was so close to getting that guy's number and you swooped in acting like my father!"

"Sweetheart I—"

"Don't sweetheart me!" You cut him off once again. "It's demeaning."

"y/n. Let me take you home. We can talk about this tomorrow."

"I don’t want to."

"Too bad we are going." Eddie no longer gave you a choice. He took your hand and started to pull you along with him.

You stumbled, tripping over your feet because your balance was gone completely.

“Woah, see my point exactly.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and Eddie can’t help but stifle a laugh. You were so cute.

Eddie didn’t mean to make you think you were juvenile…. He admired you and wanted to protect you; you were a woman to him, all women. He liked you; he really liked you. The only reason he swoops in is because he doesn’t want you with anyone who isn’t him, not because he doesn’t think you’re not capable… He dreams about how capable you can be. He just didn’t have the balls to say it to your face.

The thought of you not having any experience never even crossed his mind. He still had no clue you’d never been intimate with someone; he didn’t even know how inexperienced you were until the game. He watched and raised an unknowing brow each time you took a gulp.

Eddie took your keys from your hands and unlocked your front door for you. The whole car ride had been eerily silent. You didn’t dare speak a word without the threat of vomit coming up with it.

You silently stumbled into your home. Eddie followed closely behind. He helped you take off your sneakers. He led you to the bathroom and found some makeup wipes to help you take off your makeup, but halfway through, you turned to the toilet as the tequila made its way back up.

That’s when you broke; you were so embarrassed. “What’s wrong with me?” You cried.

“Nothing is wrong with you, swee-.” But he cut himself off, remembering that you scolded him earlier in the evening.

“Yes, there is something wrong with me! Nobody wants me.”

“That’s not true.” Eddie stroked the back of your head as you emptied out the contenders of your stomach into the porcelain bowl.

“Then why am I still a virgin?!” You sobbed.

Eddie was stunned, speechless. He had no idea. He just thought you didn’t like sharing your sex life, not that you didn’t have one.

So he let you cry into his chest. Your tears stained his shirt, but he didn’t care; he was here to take care of you.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he guided you after he helped you ride your mouth out.

You crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow. Eddie thought of leaving but was worried you would need him if you woke up, so he took the couch.

You awoke with a throbbing pain pounding in your head. You were never drinking again. The night was murky; you started remembering bits and pieces but not everything. You get up and notice the bottle of painkillers and a glass of water you definitely didn’t put there.

Then you remembered Eddie bringing you home and let out an aggravated groan. How could you have been so messy? And in front of Eddie, out of all people? Why couldn’t Robin and Nancy bring you home? What did you say to him? Were you mean? Did you yell at him? You remember crying, but the reasoning was foggy.

You begrudgingly take the water and pills and almost gag, trying to get them down, but you manage. You also smell like a minibar, so you strip and walk to your bathroom.

After a long hot shower, you get dressed and must put some food into your empty stomach.

You walked past a sleeping Eddie, not seeing him curled up in the living room, and started noisily making yourself some breakfast.

“Is that the way you wake up all your guests?”

You screamed as you threw the fork you had in fright.

“Eddie, what the fuck?!” You clench your chest as you take big breaths to calm your racing heart.

“Sorry, Angel”

Angel… that’s new? It’s always been sweetheart.

“I didn’t know you stayed?”

“Yeah… you um. Were in pretty rough shape last night, I didn’t want you to be alone... so I slept in the couch. I hope that’s okay”

“Thank you, Eddie, I’m sorry I ruined your night.” You looked down, ashamed.

“You didn’t ruin it.” He shook his head.

“Well, I owe you one,” you giggle awkwardly. Eddie and you hardly ever hang out one-on-one.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like absolute shit.” You hand Eddie a black coffee.

“Yeah, well, you really went hard in that game of never have I ever.”

You met out a moan of embarrassment. Your memory came flooding back.

Mortification consumed you as you didn’t want to look Eddie in the eyes. You cried in his arms last night after you puked your guys out.

“Oh god”

“It’s okay, Angel. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“What happened to sweetheart?” You tried to change the subject.

“You said it was demeaning…”

“Oh god, I did?” You peek up and see Eddie silently nod his head yes.

“I’m sorry, it’s not… I like the nickname. I just…. I was feeling so emotional last night, and the alcohol.” You tried not to gag at the thought.

“S’all good.” He shrugged. But he was replaced to hear you liked being called sweetheart. It suited you; he didn’t call anyone else that, either. It was reserved just for you.

“Um, so about last night, you mentioned nobody wanting you….” Oh god, was he really doing this now? “I don’t think that’s true.” Yes, he was.

“Huh?” You sit up, taking a sip of your coffee.

“You cried about how you didn’t think anyone wanted you, but it’s not true… I want you.”

Did you hear that right? Did you get water in your ears from the shower?

“You do?” Your eyes widen.

“Yeah,” he looks at you sheepishly.

“Oh?” You were in shock.

“Shit-I-I’m sorry, I ruined everything.” Eddie stood up, but you stood up with him, not wanting him to leave.

“No, Eddie, wait!” You grab his shoulder and turn him to face you. You couldn’t let him leave, not now.

“Sweeetheart, please let me be mortified in peace.”

“Kiss me.”

Eddie stares at you before you tell him one more time.

“Kiss me, Eddie.”

Then you feel his hands grip the back of your head and pull you in.

You didn’t think anything could cure your hangover but this comes pretty damn close.

You melt into his touch, his hands cup your head, your hands find his waist. It feels right, so right you think you’re floating.

No one had kissed you in what felt like years, and maybe it had been, but it was worth the wait.

Hands danced around one another’s bodies, and tongues and teeth clashed. It was messy; it was needy.

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, hold on.” Eddie pulled back breathlessly.

“What’s wrong?” You look up at him, concerned…. Had he changed his mind?

“I think we should slow down.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. We have time.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think—"

"No! I need this, I want this." You look him dead in the eyes.

"You tell me if you want to stop, okay? Promise me."

"Okay, Eddie."

Eddie waists, not another second to take you in a feverish kiss. His hands roam your body, landing on your ass. It excites you so much you can feel the familiar tingling ruminating lower and lower.

You moan his name and press your whole body into his; you need to feel him, all of him… and you can. His hard cock is digging into your hip bone, and you connect your bodies.

Stumbling back without breaking the kiss, Eddie leads you to your bedroom. You fall backwards onto your bed with a gasp.

hovering above you is Eddie. You can see the lust behind his eyes as he scans your body.

"If im doing anything you don't like, tell me. This is about you, okay?"

“Okay,” you breathe as he lowers down to his knees. You watch his hands run up the tops of your thighs before spreading them wider so he can have access to where he wants you the most.

Running his fingers down your centre, you can’t help but moan at the feeling. You are greedy; you want to feel everything all at once.

Wasting no more time, you pull down the stretchy waistband of your pants and yank your underwear down with it. No time to be self-conscious- the need to feel Eddie fueled your desire.

“Beautiful,” Eddie whispered as he left a trail of kisses up your thigh, hovering just above your mound.

“Can I taste you?”

“Yes, please. Take care of me, I want it so bad,” You whine desperately. If you weren’t so horny, you’d be embarrassed by your words, but with Eddie, everything felt right.

Eddie’s lips latched into your soaked pussy, and you watched as his eyes rolled back in enjoyment. He didn’t hold back; he wanted this to be the best head of your life, even if it’s the only head of your life. You grip his hair in your fist, not expecting the pleasure to ripple through you so quickly.

“Taste so good, sweetheart; I wanna live in this pussy.”

“Oh god!” You cry as a single digit breaches your wanton hole.

Slowly, with his tongue and his finger pumping into you, you’re nearly there. Considering how long you’ve waited for this moment, it doesn't take much more. You’re cumming within minutes.

“Good girl, you okay?” he slaps the inside of your thigh and your body jerks.

“More,” you beg. It wasn’t enough; nothing would be able to satiate you until his cock was deep inside you.

“You sure? We can stop if you’re not ready”

“Need you now.” You grab him by the shirt collar and pull him towards you for a searing kiss.

“Okay,” he mumbles into your mouth, crawling up your body.

You loved the feel of his weight on top of you, consuming you with every kiss.

“Want you, Eddie” you moan as your hands toy with the hem of his shirt.

“You have me.” He dips his head lower to caress your throat with his lips.

Your breath hitches when you feel his teeth scrape across your soft, delicate skin.

Eddie didn’t lift his head until he was satisfied with the dark mark left on your neck.

When he unlatched from your throat, you demanded he take his clothes off.

Eddie loved your eagerness; he saw a spunk in you that he could only have dreamed of.

You also removed the rest of your clothing as he stripped.

When Eddie removed his last layer over his head, he couldn’t help but ogle your body, the way your head sunk into the pillows, your breasts, your soaked pussy on display for him. He was devouring you with his eyes.

You motion him to you with a single finger, breaking him out of the trace you put him under.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Eddie was like a feline the way he crawled up on the bed to you.

The heat rushed to your cheeks; somehow, this felt more intimate than what he was doing between your legs a moment ago.

“I want you,” you repeat yourself.

Eddie cups your face, and you cup his in return. His eyes bore into your soul, leaving not a trace unturned as he searched your entire being before kissing you one more.

You moan into his mouth, and Eddie’s cock grazes your mound collecting your slick as his hips ground into you.

“Ready?” He asked desperately; he needed to be inside of you.

“Yes.”

He quickly got up and you moaned,

“What are you?- oh,” you blush

You see him reach for his pants pocket for his wallet as he pulls out a condom.

Quickly he rips it open, and your mouth waters as he rolls it over his cock. This is the first time you’re seeing what he looks like down there, and you’re getting nervous because how is that supposed to fit?

“Sweetheart? You'll be okay.” He smirks.

Cocky, shit.

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to do this myself.” You huffed.

“Oh really? How do you suppose that?” He pounced back on top of you.

“I have my toys.”

Eddie’s head drops back. “We will get back to that later. Now I’m going to fuck you.”

“Finally”

Eddie doesn’t respond. He just slowly slides his cock through your slick folds collecting your natural lube before inching his way inside of you.

“I need you to relax, sweetheart.” You naturally clench around him. He was so tickled and long. Never had you felt so full, but little did you know Eddie was only a quarter-way in.

“Fuck you’re big,” you gasp.

“No need to stroke my ego, baby girl”

That made your pussy clench down again.

“Oh, you like that?”

You nod your head, yes, unable to speak.

“Noted”

You could kill him if he wasn’t making you feel so good.

“Eddie!” You scream as he finally reaches the hilt, gripping him like a koala you don’t want to let go.

“Fuck, this pussy is so tight” Eddie slowly works his hips in and out of you; with each thrust, you can feel his bush brush against your clit, and it sends a tingle down your spine.

You moan in response; everything feels like it is on fire; never had you expected this level of sex. No wonder everyone is obsessed with it.

“Harder”

“You sure”

“Yes, god yes!”

Eddie's hips snap into you with such force your head almost hits the headboard. The bed is rocking; you have never experienced something so wanted, so needed, so absolutely taken over by someone else.

“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!” You chant his name, which only makes him go harder. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping you so hard, not ever wanting to let you go.

“Fuck me, this pussy s'good.” He spits through his teeth. His primal side is showing, and you can't get enough.

Nothing can again amount to this amount of pleasure; you're ruined for life.

"You close, baby girl?" Edie smirks when he feels you clamp don't on his cock when he spits out the words.

A guttural moan is unleashed from your throat in response because, god, you're so close.

The pressure building inside of you is about to burst as Eddie's calloused fingers find your sensitive clit.

"Come on baby, I know you gotta another one for me. I know you do."

Eddies words tipped you over the edge. Your body seized as his thick cock continued to pump into your greedy pussy. Your orgasm took over, and Eddie watched you silently scream for him.

Before you became overstimulated, Eddie also came shortly after, only a few more pumps, and he spilled himself into the condom.

With Eddie beside you huffing and puffing, you couldn't wipe the stupid grin off your face.

"That good, huh?"

"I don't want to stroke your ego, but yeah... fuck me" You hid your face.

"I just did." Eddie rolled over to kiss all over your face and you can't help but giggle.

"I hope we can do that again," you shy away.

"Oh, we are one thousand percent doing that again. "

Tagging some mooties: @littlexdeaths @xxbimbobunnyxx @voyeurmunson @rowanswriting @lofaewrites

@starkeysprincess @strangerstilinski @taintedcigs @mmunson86 @paybacksawitch @stardancerluv

#Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson x female reader #Eddie Munson x virgin!reader #Eddie Munson imagine

[mostly-imagines]

The Alchemy I

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

warnings: slow burn, mentions of attempted sa for reader, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of standard gotham violence

Dear fuck, he’s as heavy as he looks.

You use all of your weight to pull him backwards towards the couch, almost giving up when you realized you’d have to lift him up off the ground to actually get on it.

Getting him through the window was enough of a hassle, challenging the difficulty of the decision to bring him in here at all. 

Thankfully you don’t have to think too hard on it because you feel his body stiffen up suddenly. He jolts upright, though clearly pained to do so, hand flying to the gun holster on his side.

You take a step back, hands out in front of you. “Hey, it’s alright.”

“Who are you?” His voice is interrogative. 

You put your hands down, “You’re the one who passed out on my balcony, I think if anyone gets to ask that question it’s me.”

He stares at you, white lenses bearing into your soul.

Okay, yeah. You tell him your name. He doesn’t move. “You just looked like you needed some help..”

His posture loosens a bit, and his hand finally leaves the holster.

He glances down at his abdomen, a sizable tear in his suit and a nearly alarming amount of blood. “You got any bandages?”

“Uh, I—yeah, yeah, I do.” You dart down the hall into the bathroom, shuffling through your first aid kid. You toss a few wraps into your arms, along with some antiseptic spray you suspect he’ll need. You grab your hand towel and get it wet under warm water. 

When you return, he’s moved himself onto the sofa, lifting his shirt up to assess the damage. You round the couch, seeing more blood than you’d have hoped for.

“Can I?” You ask, motioning to his injury. 

He looks up at you for a long moment. He nods.

You kneel down in front of him and replace his hand in lifting up the shirt. It’s a cut, it doesn’t look terribly deep, but still not shallow enough that he could just leave it.

You take the rag and dab it around the wound, trying to clean up the blood as much as possible without making contact with it.

He’s very still as you work, and you get the strong impression he’s watching you carefully.

You grab the antiseptic spray, shaking it. “This’ll sting.”

He grunts.

You apply the antiseptic thoroughly and he doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t move his gaze from you for a second.

You unwrap one of the bandages and place it on firmly, making sure there’s no bleedthrough.

And not that you particularly want to be thinking about this right now, but the man is noticeably ripped. Stacked like a house of cards.

You rip away your gaze and stand up, hands on your hips, taking a deep breath. You look at him—at his helmet.

You don’t know how you can tell, but he’s studying you. Trying to get a read on you, maybe. Regardless, you’re eager to escape the gaze.

You shovel the remainder of your supplies back into your arms and bring them back to the bathroom, calling out, “I didn’t take off your helmet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

There’s a short beat. 

“Do I seem like someone that worries often?” 

You peek your head out of the bathroom door. 

You look at him. “You seem like someone that doesn’t worry enough.”

He snorts. “You’re not far off.”

You make your way back once you’re done, looking at the disregarded meal you’d been interrupted from. “I have pasta if you…eat.”

“I do.”

“I can go in the other room if you—”

He clicks the lock on his helmet, taking it off. He’s left with a second mask underneath, covering his eyes and nose. His dark hair sticks up from the helmet, a white streak poking out in the front. He looks younger than you would’ve expected. Cuter, if his jaw is anything to go by.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Okay then.

You grab a second plate out of the cabinet and scoop on the rest of the pasta from the pan.

You hand him the plate, avoiding standing too close. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

You turn back around as casually as possible after hearing the name, wanting to avoid letting your face give anything away.

This guy kills people, right?

You sit down in the armchair across from the couch, spooling the pasta on and off the fork. He doesn’t show the same hesitation in dining away that you do—you guess fighting crime would require some calorie exchange.

“You a nurse?” He asks after a few minutes. 

The question takes you by surprise. You hadn’t taken him as a small talk kind of person. “Huh? Oh, no, I’ve just taken a few first aid courses and stuff.”

He gives a short hum, thoughtful.

“What?”

“You’re good.” Hardly.

“I didn’t really do anything.”

“You did enough.” He says, not leaving much room for argument.

He stands up at once, walking past you to the kitchen. Your gaze follows him silently. He puts his empty plate in the sink and returns to the edge of the living room.

He looks at you once more and pops his helmet back on followed by the click of the lock.

“I’ll see ya.” He says shortly, before ducking out the window.

You’re left alone, sitting in your armchair, plate of cold pasta forgotten on your lap.

That could’ve gone very badly. Maybe not your most thought-through decision to literally drag the Red Hood into your apartment, but hey. Maybe you’re exercising your ability to be an upstanding, helpful person. Or maybe you were just hoping to prevent a vigilante being found dead on your fire escape.

Regardless, you close the window after him, leaving it unlocked. Just in case.

You wake in the middle of the night to the sounds of footsteps in your living room. You shoot upright, immediately spotting the lamp light flooding in from under your door.

Creeping to a stand, you grab the baseball bat next to your bed and slowly walk to the door.

You creep the door open as quietly as possible, inching out half a step at a time. A nearby creak on your floorboards had you swinging blindly, only to have your bat get stopped midair. You look up to see Mr. Hood himself, blocking the blow of your hit with his hand. 

“Wow. You and a bat against Gotham, huh, sweetheart?”

“Fuck!” You let go of the bat and drown your face in your hands. “What is wrong with you?”

“Apparently that I don’t carry enough baseball bats with me.” He says coolly, inspecting your bat. Though he’s got to admit, your bat is probably a hell of a lot more useful than his. 

You drop your arms at your side. “If I’d known bringing you into my apartment one time was going to be considered a free pass forever, I might’ve thought twice.”

“If I’d known I was going to nearly be concussed with a baseball bat, I might’ve too.” Barely. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re still half asleep and it was not a very good swing.

He looks at you straight on for the first time. His helmet quickly drifts down and back up to your face just as fast.

You look down. T-Shirt, underwear, and…no that’s it. Not…ideal. You pull down on the unfortunately not at all oversized shirt, wanting to creep back into your room.

He turns his back, allowing you to do just that and scramble for some shorts to throw on. 

“Very gentlemanly of you.” You call out from your room, “And only thirty seconds after breaking into my apartment.”

“Okay, one, I’ve been here longer than that. In a non creepy way.”

“Right.”

“And two, I didn’t break anything. You live in the middle of Gotham and don’t lock your window?”

You reemerge in the doorway, “I live on the eighth floor.” 

He turns around to face you again, helmet in his hands. “Didn’t stop me.” No it did not. 

“Mm. So are you here specifically to judge my home security or was there something you needed?”

He takes a deep breath, “Actually yeah. I just need a place to rest for a minute.” 

“Rest from what?”

A series of gunshots echo from down the street.

“Next question.”

Concise.

You and Hood sit on the couch in the dark, per his insistence, because for some godforsaken reason, you have no curtains. It takes a few minutes for the silence to dissipate into forced conversation, which takes a few more minutes to fade into actual conversation.

“Can I be honest with you?” You ask him.

“Does it matter how I answer?”

“I don’t understand how you’re not dead.” You poke your head up, turning to him. “Are you human?”

He cranes his neck to look out the window, “Maybe getting shot at isn’t the worst thing that could happen tonight…”

You roll your eyes with a smile that you’re glad is hidden by the darkness. “Oh, fuck off.”

“You don’t have much in terms of self-preservation skills, do you?”

You ignore him as to not acknowledge that he’s probably right and roll through to your next curiosity, “Who the hell was shooting at you anyways?” Though, you don’t really expect an answer.

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. They got ‘til sunrise anyway.”

You tilt your head, “‘Til sunri—” oh. Yeah. Come to think of it, he does have two guns on him right now. At least that you can see. You squint blankly at the wall, “You know, I’m placing a lot of trust in the hope that you’re not just as bad as those guys.”

“Yes you are.” He nods, not doing anything to convince you that he is in fact a good guy. He hasn’t tried to harm you in any way though, so you guess that’s a good sign.

You tilt your head at him. “Do you get paid to do this?” 

“I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of people who would pay me not to do this.” 

You nod solemnly, mouth turned into an exaggerated frown. “So you have a day job?”

He looks over at you, “Do you always ask this many questions?”

“Are you always so dodgy about answering them?” You shoot back. If you’d thought for .5 seconds longer on that, you might not have said anything. But you feel comfortable here, in your apartment with a man whose face you’ve never seen, name you don’t know, and always has at least two loaded guns on him.

He huffs out a laugh, “Yeah. I am.” He looks over at you. “You live here by yourself?”

You look around at the empty apartment before turning back to him, “Seems that way.”

He shrugs, “Boyfriend could be out or something.”

“Well most people are asleep at one in the morning. Like I was. Remember that?”

“No.”

You sigh, curling up into a ball on your end of the couch, resting your chin on your knees. You’re quiet for a minute before piping up, “Do people actually break into apartments on high floors a lot?”

“Stupid people.” He pauses, looking over at the frown on your face. “Look, I’m in the neighborhood a lot. If I see somebody climbing your fire escape I’ll shoot them.”

You let a little smile out, “I’m thinking there’s other steps you could take before you get to that point.”

“If you want to waste time.” His gaze doubles back at you, “That was a joke, by the way.”

You bark out a tired laugh, “Yeah, I picked up on that, thanks.”

He removes his eyes from you, fixing on a set of pictures you have hanging on the wall.

Your eyes flutter and you move to rest your head on the arm of the couch. “Is this going to be a regular thing then?”

“You could lock your window.”

“Living on the eighth floor didn’t stop you, I can’t imagine a shitty lock will do much more.”

“If you don’t want me here, I won’t be here.” He says gruffly.

“If I don’t want you here, I’ll let you know.” You mumble, eyes closing.

You can barely make out a laugh from him, “Good to know.”

You’re not quite sure how much time goes by when he leaves, but you have a pretty strong feeling you’d fallen asleep. Your main indicator was feeling the blanket draped nicely over you that you could’ve sworn was on the chair across the room.

Maybe it’s ten o’clock at night and you’re sat on your kitchen floor, bawling your eyes out. Maybe you’re going to have to quit your job. Or maybe you’ll have to face a lawsuit. Maybe this is the worst day in the history of time. Maybe it’s about to get worse. 

The sound of your living room window sliding open has you startling into a rush, body panicking as if you’ve done something wrong and desperately need to cover the evidence. The past few weeks of sporadic visits leaves no question about who it is, and you just hope the kitchen island in front of you will be enough to convince Hood that you’re not in and he’ll leave.

But because today is today, that’s not how it goes down.

You can vaguely make out the sound of his footsteps approaching, a courtesy that you’re sure he incorporated on purpose.

“Oh fuck…” you mutter to yourself, wiping your eyes.

He rounds the counter, looking down at you. “Wha—what’s wrong?”

“Fuck. Nothing.” You say, standing up and adjusting your clothes. “Are you hurt?” He better fucking not be at only ten.

“No, I—why are you on the floor?” 

You roll your eyes, “I live alone, forgive me for assuming I would be given the privilege to cry on the floor in private.”

“Did something happen?” You’re trying really hard not to call him an idiot. 

You raise your eyebrows, giving a light nod. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so.”

He shifts in his stance, “Do I need to talk to someone?”

You scoff, knowing damn well his version of ‘talk to someone’ does not include talking to someone. “Why are you even here so early?” 

“Wanted to stop by before I went out.” he says quietly.

You’re about to snap something at him again, but the burning in your eyes takes immediate priority. You wrap your arms around your middle and try to calm yourself down, with very little success. The tears fall easily and your shoulders start shaking as you look at the floor, letting the melancholy take over. 

It feels like much longer than it probably was, but sometime after the first few tears fall he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. This only makes you cry harder, sobbing against his armor. Your arms stay wrapped around your center, while his hands remain completely still against your back, though firm. You don’t realize it immediately, but he’s holding a good portion of your weight up, you’d for sure collapse onto the floor otherwise. You kind of wish you would. Sitting on the floor felt nice, maybe falling down on it will feel even better.

You slowly start to regain your breathing, the well in your eyes drying up again. He waits for you to stop completely and slowly pulls back from you, hands momentarily still wavering next to you like he’s ready to catch you.

It takes you a minute to notice, but his helmet is locked on to the finger-shaped bruises on your forearm. You awkwardly move your opposite arm to cover them, looking around your apartment with nothing to search for.  

He’s quiet for a long while, clearly thinking hard. “What happened?”

You sniffle, “Some asshole at my job.”

“Some asshole?” He doesn’t believe you. Rightfully so, but he has no business being able to tell that you’re lying about one single word in that sentence.  

“My boss. Was very intent on successfully hitting on me.” You exhale deeply, “His approach could use some work though, if I’m honest.”

His posture remains statue-like. “Where do you work?”

You look at him straight on for the first time that night, “What does that matter?”

“I’ll take care of it.” He says simply.

You wave him off, “It’s fine.”

He waits a moment before letting you know, “I’m being polite by asking, I’m going to find out either way.”

You plop back down on the kitchen floor, knees to chest. “Well, then do it the hard way.”

About ten seconds of him staring down at you in silence go by, before he sits down next to you. It’s a bit funny how he tries to shrink himself down next to you, you’re assuming because he doesn’t want you to get panicked again because this massive stranger is sitting next to you in your kitchen in the dead of night.  

You don’t look at him as he clicks his helmet off and sets it on the other side of him. It’s quiet for another minute when he holds his gloved hand out to you, and you’re not quite sure how you know what he wants, but you do. You place your bruised arm in his hand, letting him gently pull it closer to him and scan over it. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” 

Again, you don’t know how, but you can tell he’s asking how far things went. “I started screaming and it freaked him out. He let me go.” you say numbly. 

You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, bits of red making their way into your peripheral despite the discarded helmet. You turn slowly to look at him, finding him looking at you already.  

His face is more covered than it had been the first night, the same black mask covers his eyes but the lower half of his face is also hidden by a red mouthpiece. You’re in the lamp light and closer to him than you had been before and you’re counting out specks of green in his blue eyes. He lets you, to your surprise, and when you run out of emerald hues you take focus on his thick, dark eyelashes. Your gaze moves back ever so slightly to make eye contact with him and you tear your eyes away, zeroing in on the kitchen tiles. 

You sigh contemplatively, “I’m worried if you kill my boss it’ll be traced back to me and I’ll get pinned for it.”

He doesn’t laugh. But your delivery was a little dry in the wrong way so really it was on you.

“I’m not going to kill him.” he tells you, “I wouldn’t gamble with my pied-a-terre like that.”

Your head falls back, hitting the drawer behind you with a light thud. “Then why waste your time at all?” Maybe you should slow down with the snide comments.

He wants to, but he doesn’t call out the implied self-slighting in your words. “Maybe it’s a ‘me’ thing but I don’t particularly like men that hurt women.”

You let out a dry laugh. “In Gotham, it just might be.”

He sits with you on the linoleum tile of your kitchen until your eyes start to droop and he lightly corrals you to your bedroom before taking his exit through the window. You told him multiple times that he could go and you were fine, but he insisted that nothing important was happening in the city that time of night. You didn’t quite believe him though, because it was past midnight by the time he’d headed out.  

When you showed up to work the following day your boss wasn’t there. Wasn’t there the day after either. Or the day after. He didn’t make an appearance again until the following Monday. And when he did show face, he did so with a neck brace and a cast on his leg. But once more, he absolutely refused to make eye contact or speak to any of the female employees. It actually became a whole thing when he wouldn’t give instructions or feedback to any of you, and insisted on having his secretary replaced with a man, who he then used as a middle man to speak to all of the women for him. HR got involved three times in the span of the next five days, and by the Monday after, he’d been fired.

So to recap: yes, no, no, undecided, and hard no. 

Maybe you’re really starting to like this Red Hood guy.

Hard yes.

You’re slightly on guard upon hearing a clattering on the balcony, though if the past few weeks have been any indicator, you’re not in much danger.

Your posture slumps as you peer around the hallway corner, “Oh, it’s you.”

“Good to see you too.” he grumbles, dropping onto the floor.

“Well, I have to imagine I’m a step up from the last person you saw.” You say, looking him up and down, seeing what sure as hell looks like a gunshot wound on his chest armor. “What happened to you? The Mad Hatter uses guns now?”

He groans, “Ah, I said something about him being a heartless fuck, and I guess he took it personally.”

You sigh, “Jesus Christ, Hood.”

He waves you off, “It’s not that big of a deal.” 

You scoff, ���He tried to shoot you in the heart.”

“Yeah, well, he missed.” He grumbles, adjusting his position on the couch. 

You exhale sharply, “How do you know?”

“How do I know?” He tilts his helmet at you, exasperated. 

You throw your arms up at your side, “I don’t know! I’m not equipped for this scenario.”

He huffs, “Look, it’s fine, it hit my armor. It’ll probably just be a bad bruise.”

“Probably?”

“I don’t think there’s blood. Could you…” he vaguely gestures to his torso, but it's enough for you to get the hint.

You shake the panic out of your head, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

You help him shrug off his jacket as he strips off his armor, and you lift his shirt up as slowly as you can in case the injury is worse than he thinks.

You’re not shocked to see that he has scars, that’s kind of a given in his line of work. What you are shocked to see is one very long scar that lines directly up the center of his body. It’s a deep scar, too.

And, oh. The long scar extends further, splitting off into a fork at his collar. That’s—oh. Oh. Oh. That is an autopsy scar. 

You’re not sure what to do. You’ve never seen a living person with an autopsy scar—though you have to imagine neither have most people.

He clearly does not want to talk about it and you’re happy to let him keep the skeleton in the closet.

You avert your gaze back over to his diaphragm at the area of reddened skin.

“There’s no blood, but…” You inspect it a bit closer, “I think there’s going to be a bad bruise. You might end up with bruising on your ribs, you need to get that looked at.”

“I am.” He says shortly.

You stand up straight, dropping your shoulders. “By someone who went to medical school. Or has taken more than one anatomy class in their life.” 

He yanks down his shirt, standing, apparently too quickly, and wobbling. You catch his arm as he sways, attempting to steady him. “You should sit down.”

“Need to go back out.” He grunts, trying to pull away from you with little force.

“To get killed? ‘Cause you’re going the right way about it.” 

He tilts his head at you like he’s daring you to be so bold again. At least that's what it felt like. You sigh, gesturing to the couch, “Sit down.”

You didn’t expect it to work but he does as told.

You look around, unsure of what to do next. “Do you need ice?”

“What?”

“You’re hurt.” You say slower. “Do you need ice?”

He falters for a second, “No, it’s—no.” A couple beats pass before he adds, “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

It’s impossible not to notice that he’s staring at you. You feel hot under his gaze, not knowing what to do with yourself. You clear your throat, telling him to hang on for a second. 

You call out behind you as you walk to the kitchen, “Take your helmet off, it’s rude.” You grab the painkillers from their new easily-accessible place on the kitchen counter and grab a water bottle from the fridge.

It was a joke but when you come back his helmet is off and he’s just wearing his domino eye mask. His hair is extra tousled, the white streak barely visible in the mess of loose curls. You toss the bottle of meds at him, followed by the capped bottle of water. He catches them easily, downing more than he probably should have but he got shot tonight so you figure you’ll give him a break about it.    

You plop down on the couch next to him, honestly closer than you’d meant to. Your knees and shoulders lightly brush against one anothers, though neither of you make any moves to scoot over. 

You both look straight ahead at the wall, simmering in the amity. “So did somebody else deal with the Hatter or when you get shot do you just bounce back like a T-1000?”

He scoffs, “No, getting shot at is a bit of an inconvenience for me.”

“Wrong line of work.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “You’re telling me.”

You turn your head to him, “Why do you do it then?” 

He looks back at you earnestly. “Someone has to.” 

“Someone does.”

He tenses up a bit at that, breaking eye contact. “Not well enough.” 

Your head slowly lulls and drops into a rest on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen up a bit more before almost completely relaxing.

“So violence is the answer to violence?” you ask, not argumentative, just genuinely musing. 

Hood sighs, “Half-assed reform programs didn’t do anything, shitty ‘crisis interventions’ didn’t do anything, the cops sure as hell don’t do anything.” He shrugs under you. “You run out of options eventually.”

“And that’s why you took it upon yourself to intervene?”

“Mm. ‘When reason fails, the devil helps.’” He says, quite melodramatically, in your opinion.

“I-Is that—” you squint, shooting off of his shoulder to look him in the eye. “You spend your nights getting in street fights and shootouts and you spend your days reading Crime and Punishment of all things?” You gawk at him, “That explains a lot about your disposition.”

He shrugs with a shake of his head. “It’s a rough world. Can’t afford to be reading about Hogwarts.”

You pause, combing through your next words, “‘Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn’t calculate his happiness.’”

His eyes crinkle under his mask as he smiles, clearly pleasantly surprised that you know your shit. “Touché.”

You grin back, pleased with yourself. 

There’s a brief recession where your smiles both get caught in the flicker between on and off, where your eyes take the opportunity to scan over each other’s faces. 

You realize that this may be the first time you’ve seen him properly smile and it’s so magnetizing. So much so that you don’t realize you’re staring at his lips until your eyes snap back up to his and find that his are on yours.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he nudges you a bit with his shoulder. It does just enough to break the trance, giving you the cue to rest your head on him again. This time you allow more of your weight to lean against him and he actually seems relaxed for once.

 You glance at the clock on the wall without moving and realize it’s almost four in the morning. “I’m tired, Hood.” you mumble into his shirt.

“You don’t—” he falters for a moment, “You don’t have to call me that.”

You squint at him, “What should I call you then?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “J.”

“J?” you whisper, like it’s a grave secret. You guess it kind of is.

He nods.

“Okay.” Your cheek flattens against his shoulder. “J.” 

You nearly think you’re imagining it when you feel him rest his head against yours.

“You don’t know how to protect yourself?”

You roll your eyes at him, “You saw the way I swung at you with the baseball bat, what do you think?”

It’s only just after sunset, you could still see some purple-pink hues in the sky if you looked out the window. He’s started showing up before patrol some nights, saying he felt bad about waking you up at 3 am multiple times a week. So now, he mostly only drops in late if he’s a manageable amount of injured.

You stand in the middle of your living room together, after you’d made a joke about needing him as a bodyguard in Gotham. As it turns out, that was a one way street to him finding out that you’re useless in a fight.

“I was hoping you were having an off night because you just woke up, but now I'm concerned.” He says, grimacing.

You shrug, “I carry pepper spray.” 

He grumbles, displeased. “Put your hands up.”

You drop your head to the side and glower at him, “Really?”

He raises his eyebrows at you. Just do it. 

Alright, you’ll humor him. You put your fists up and he holds his hands open in front of you in kind. You throw a light punch.

“Come on, put your weight behind it.”

You do, hitting his hand harder. “Hood—”

He tilts his head forward at that, looking at you through his brows.

You inhale impatiently, “J, Why do we have to do this? I don’t have any illusions that I could knock you out and I can’t imagine you do either.” 

He shakes his head, “It’s not about knocking someone out, it’s about defending yourself. Gonna be a hell of a lot harder to hurt you if you’re throwing punches. Harder.”

You give a raised hum, “Not if they have a gun…”

“Well, we’ll work on that too.”

You groan, throwing a half-assed hit. “Where’d you learn to fight?” You ask before throwing another.

“Turn your body into it.” He corrects. “My, uh, my dad taught me.”

You hum, hitting him again. “Are you guys close?”

“You’re being nosy again.” He grunts amidst a hit.

“You’re being evasive again.” You shoot back.  

He drops his hands, taking your wrists in his, “Here, put your hands in front of your face when you shoot so you can block counters.” He tells you, adjusting your stance accordingly.

You make a face, “I’m confused, am I fighting a mugger or a kickboxer?”  

He ignores you, moving his hands around to give you different angles to hit at. 

You go at it for a few minutes, taking his critiques with reluctant concedence. “Alright, that’s good.” He says, relaxing his body.

You perk up, “We’re done?” 

“No,” he shuts you down before asking earnestly, “Do you trust me?”

Your brain hadn’t even fully processed the question before you nod, mumbling a ‘yes’. He takes a measured step closer to you, watching carefully for your reaction. You almost back up in surprise, angling your head up further to look at him properly. You give no objection, so he continues, “I want you to try to get me on the ground.”

You let out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-scoff. “You’re twice my size.”      

He sighs, looking at you somberly. “Sweetheart, odds are you’re not going to be evenly matched against someone that wants to hurt you. You get ‘em on the ground ‘n you have the upper hand or it’ll give you time to get away.”

You throw your hands up at your sides, “I don’t—” You huff, “Fine, okay.” You try to trip him by sliding your leg behind his and kicking, but he blocks you expertly.

You, against better judgment, shove your shoulder into his side, though it does nothing to phase him, let alone knock him down. 

“You gotta get more creative than that.” He chastises with a tut. 

In response, you take a step back to reassess the situation. You try to maintain a poker face as you strategize in your head. You make a dive for his legs, wrapping your arms around the back of his legs and pulling hard to make him lose balance. You’re sure if he were actually trying for a damn you would immediately be done for afterwards, but it does make him wobble. You then throw all of your weight against him, pushing him backwards and causing him to hit the floor with a thud.

He probably allowed for gravity to come to your aid, but he lands on his back all the same. You land half on him, half on the carpet, your hand resting on his chest. He looks up at you nodding, “Good. That was good, sweetheart.”

You smile, quite proud of yourself, and start to stand up when he hooks his arm around the back of your knee and pulls you to the ground too, switching places with you. You hit the ground gently with a sigh, “Really?”

He has one hand rested next to your head to balance him in his place above you. He smirks down at you and lets a tussle of white hair hang over his forehead. “Can’t be getting cocky, sweetheart.”

You laugh sourly, “Coming from you?” 

You quickly push at the bend of his arm and use the distraction to adjust your position to wrap your legs around his center and push your arm against his chest in an attempt to rotate him off of you.

He counters you by pushing your shoulder down, holding you down to the floor. His opposite hand flies to pull your forearm away from his chest, pinning it next to your head, careful to avoid your hair. He moves so quickly that you have half a mind to think he acted on pure instinct. That, and the look on his face when the dust settles says that he hadn’t intended for you to end up in this position. 

Your legs are still wrapped around him and you’re too frozen in the moment to make any changes. He’s in no more of a rush to move, large frame towering over you. You feel his touch stutter against your shoulder, his eyes flickering across your face.

You gaze up at him, taking in the soft look in his eyes behind the mask. You think you can see more green than you did before. You unwrap your legs from around his waist and slowly start to sit up. He releases your wrist and eases the pressure on your shoulder. He leans back half as quickly as you move forward, stopping when you’re propped up on your elbows.

Your faces are only a few inches apart and it feels like your only option is to look down at his lips. You have a feeling he’s doing the same to you. The adrenaline of the hassle has long since faded but the rhythm in both of your chests remains quick.

He leans forward so barely, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. “J…” you say breathily, not sure what implication you’re aiming for.

He stills and this time you’re sure he’s looking at your lips. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to come back to himself and inches his face away from yours slowly. 

You let the hold in your breath release, disappointed more than anything. He eases off the floor to a stand and holds his hand out to help you up too. You take it with more of a frown than you’d meant to let out and rise to your feet.

“Let’s, uh…” He looks at the ground before taking a step back and putting his hands up again. “Let’s try some combos.”

You blink up at him for a second before raising your hands too.  

Alright, one step at a time.   

#jason todd loves this stranger #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd x y/n #jason todd/you #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #dc x you #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #jason todd loves his gf

[ellatoone7]

❄︎ Family Barbecue ❄︎

Alexia's favourite girl's series

Family barbecues are the girl's new favourite thing

“Emilia why don’t you have your shoes on?”  You addressed the girl in front of you who was looking at all her shoes. “I can’t find my light up shoes.” Emilia pouts up at you, eyes shining with unshed tears. Irene and her wife had invited you all to a family barbeque with all the Barca girls and their kids. The girls had not stopped talking about it for weeks and were positively bouncing at the thought of seeing everyone.  

“It’s okay we will find them, come on.” You picked her up and carried her to the kitchen. Mateo and Emilia had recently gone on shopping spree with Irene and Alexia giving the two former captains an excuse to catch up. They had bought matching pairs of light up shoes that Mateo and Emilia were absolutely obsessed with. It had been a constant battle with Emilia to take them off since she had gotten them. 

Alexia was in the kitchen when you and Emilia rounded the corner, “Ale have you seen Meels special shoes?” Val lit up from where she was sat comfortably in the ex-athletes’ arms. “Sí they are in their special box, so they don’t get lost remember pequeña?” Emilia hummed thoughtfully before running off to find them. You smiled softly at your wife as you made your way over to her. 

Alexia welcomed you eagerly as her strong arm wrapped around your waist, pressing a soft kiss against your temple as she swayed gently making the two-year-old in her arms giggle. You cupped her chubby cheek as she babbled around her dummy, “Someone’s happy now that they’ve been fed huh? Just like your Mami.” Alexia nudged your hip as you teasingly smiled back at her. 

Val’s little hands fell on both of her mother’s cheeks as she happily nuzzled her head against Alexia’s jaw. “¿Estás lista, cariño? We should go before we are late.” Alexia asks as she lets her squirming daughter down so she can roam around for a bit. “Sí, I’ll call Iz and meet you in the car.” Before you could turn around you were pulled back into the strong hold of your wife, “¿Adónde crees que vas?” You tilt your head slightly, “To get Is, should I be worried about your memory?” You teased slightly before wrapping your arms around her neck and giving her what she wanted. 

Alexia sighed into the kiss like she had done since she was young. The familiarity will never dawn on the blonde as she softly breaks away to kiss down your neck. “Ale the kids.” You warn after a particularly sloppy kiss. You could feel her smirk against your skin before she pulled your impossibly closer, “We are well overdue a night to ourselves hermosa.” You melt into the purr of her accent as she presses her lips to as much skin as she can find, “Don’t start something you can’t finish Putellas.” You guide her lips back to yours and indulge her for a few more minutes. “I think we both know how quick I can make you finish amor.” 

You push her back gently, rolling your eyes as her eyes rake down the front of your top, “You’re worse than a hormonal teenager.” Alexia shrugs, “Can you blame me when you have a wife as hot as mine?” You grant her one last kiss before ushering her to get Val into the car, you roll your eyes again when she slaps your ass as you walk away from her. 

“Iz, Meels, Vamos time to go!” There is silence before a herd of footsteps barrel down the stairs, warning of being careful falling on deaf ears as they race to see who can get to the car the fastest. Once everyone was buckled up and safe and sound you were on route to Irene’s. Emilia and Isabella were chattering amongst themselves while Val was mesmerised by everything going on around her. 

“Mami how long until we are there?”

“What kind of food will they have?”

“Is Mateo going to be wearing his light up shoes?”

“Is everyone going to be there?”

“Obviously Emilia, it’s a team barbeque!”

“I was just asking Iz, how am I s’posed to know.”

“You just are!”

“What if Tia Mapi isn’t there or Tia Patri or Tia Jana or Tia Claudia…”

A squeeze to your hand has you stifling a laugh as you glance over at your wife who is just as amused as you are. You shook your head softly as your daughters bicker lightly in the back. “¡Chicas, no creo que estéis excitadas! Do you mi corazón?” She asks you as turn to face your daughters who look appalled by their Mami’s insinuation. “Am too excited!” Emilia scoffs as she crosses her arms with a huff, “Sí you just don’t get it Mami.” Isabella agrees as she quietly whispers something to her younger sister, whatever was said sent the two into a fit of giggles. “They are too cool for you know Mami.” You tease as your wife chuckles softly, bringing your joined hands up to her lips. 

Once you finally arrived at Irene’s house you and Alexia are left to carry all the bags left behind by the two overly excited girls. “At least we still have one who wants to stay with us.” You coo as you unbuckle Val from her seat, “Mi amor she’s two, she can’t form any opinions yet.” 

The sight you’re met with once you enter the house is nothing short of perfect chaos. Emilia is hanging off Mapi’s shoulder as she climbs her like a tree. Isabella has been whisked off with her ‘older a cooler sisters’ (Jana and Claudia). The rest of the former world class team are lounged around the back garden as music flits around the area. 

“Ay Dios mio, it’s a miracle you are only a half hour late.” Ona teases as she’s brought into a hug by her former Captain. “You try having three kids and come back to me Battle.” You tell her as she greets you with a kiss to the cheek. “I’m not complaining I love seeing mi bebés pequeños.” She coos at the two-year-old in your arms, Val shies away from the contact and buries her face into your neck. 

“I remember when they were all like that, she’s so cute.” You laugh gently before greeting your hosts. “Mucho Gracias for having us Lucia, you are a saint.” The woman waves your thanks off, “You are the only one who keeps me sane chica, please never leave.” Irene scoffs playfully from her spot next to Alexia, “Don’t worry Alexia is just as bad.” Alexia just smiles cheekily as she pulls her friend into a hug. 

“Mateo!”

“Emilia!” 

The two six-year-olds squeal as they run to each other, Mapi long forgotten as the two bound around to show everyone their matching shoes. “Hola Lucia.” Isabella smiles as she pulls the woman into a hug. Lucia melts into the hold of your eldest and compliments her on her perfect manners before pinching her cheek. “Iz do you want a drink?” Irene calls from where her and Alexia are now sitting, “Sí, por favor.” 

Isabella waltzes over to where her Mami and Tia are standing, “Mami ¿puedo tomar un refresco?” Alexia kisses her cheek with a nod “Tell Irene about your match hija.” Isabella’s eyes light up as she jumps into how she scored a hattrick and got two assists. Alexia smugly watching as the some of the other girls gather around to listen. 

You take the wine offered to you gratefully before finding Frido and Ingrid who eagerly urge you over. Valentina seems to perk up a bit at the sight of her favourite Swede who showers her with affection. 

Emilia found herself sat on Lucy’s lap, “Did you see my shoes Luce?” She points to her brand-new light up shoes as Lucy sets her down so she can show her how they light up in different colours. “That is so cool Meels my friend from England would love a pair of them!” Emilia’s head tilts slightly as she peers down at her feet again, “Your friend sound super cool!” Lucy laughs at the thought of her blonde captain, “I want to meet her!” Kiera picks the blonde up after overhearing their conversation, “You already have silly, your Tia Leah!” 

Emilia giggles as Kiera tickles her softly, “I love Tia Leah! Can we show her my new shoes por favor!” Kiera and Lucy share a glance before melting at the sight of the girl’s puppy eyes. Kiera pulls out her phone a quickly facetimes her best friend who picks up straight away. Emilia tries to stand on her tippy toes to see as they briefly chat. “Someone wants to show you something, mate.” Kiera chuckles as Leah’s eyebrows raise with intrigue. Emilia is bouncing up and down with anticipation as Kiera finally turns the phone around so she could see her Tia Leah. 

“Meelsie!” The Londoner squeals as she coos at the girl who blushes slightly, “Tia! Tia! I miss you so much!” Kiera gives the girl her phone who rambles on and on, catching the other blonde on what she has missed since Emilia has last seen her. After their accidental meeting when Emilia got lost at the Emirates, she has had a strong bond with the Gunner especially since Leah would come to some of the Barcelona games to ‘see Kiera’ when it was really to see her favourite Putellas. 

Leah had gotten Emilia and Arsenal jersey for her sixth birthday and Emilia had been obsessed with it since then much to the pure chagrin of her Mami who had a heart attack at the sight of it. Alexia had ‘ban’ her from wearing it around the house, but you had insisted that Emilia wore it as often as possible being the secret Gunner you were. 

“Tia look at my new shoes!” Leah’s’ eyes light up, “I want a pair!” Emilia giggled, “I promise the next time you visit I will get you a matching pair so you can match with me and Mateo!” Emilia quickly ran over to where her Mami was sitting with Jenni, “Mami! Mami we need to get another pair of these shoes!” Alexia glances down thinking Emilia’s were damaged, “Not for me Mami! For Tia Leah!” Leah laughed loudly as she was passed to Alexia, the Spaniard playfully rolling her eyes at her ‘enemy’. Jenni was cackling at the interaction as Alexia once again lectured Leah about the Arsenal jersey sitting in her house. 

“Once a gunner, always a gunner Putellas!” Alexia huffed as Jenni greeted the English woman, Emilia was getting impatient as she made grabby hands for the phone so she could say bye to her Tia. “Williamson don’t you even think about it.” Alexia hissed as Isabella popped her head to see who was on the phone.

“Ay hola Leah!” 

“Is, I have the perfect jersey for yo-,”

“Ay no!” Alexia pulled the phone away from her eldest as Leah’s laugh travelled back into Emilia’s hand. “Vamos Tia, I’ll bring you back to Kei.” 

Alexia watched as Emilia happily skipped off towards the two Brits as she pulled Isabella down onto her lap. “Mami It’s okay I bleed Blaugrana nothing will change that.” The brunette promised as tapped over where the badge would be on her top. “At least I did something right.” She mumbled as she kissed the top of her eldest’s head land let her go before Isabella could leave Jenni ushered her over, “I could get you a tigres jersey with your name on it.” 

“Jennifer!” 

After the food had been served and everyone was happily full Valentina seemed to get a bit restless, reverting into the safety of your neck as her little hand softly hits your chest. “You okay baby?” You question as she avoids her dummy, “Mami.” It was whispered so softly that you barely heard it, but Val repeated it a few times until it was absolutely clear that she was squirming in you grip. Head searching for her Mami’s. 

“Vale, let’s go find Mami.” It didn’t take long for you to spot her with Mapi the two laughing loudly as you approached. Val who had finally accepted her dodo reached her arms out for Alexia as she babbled her name around the dummy. Alexia’s smile brightened as she spotted the both of you and she could feel the butterflies in her stomach as her little girl reached out for her. 

“Hola bebita, qué le pasa a mi vida?” You easily passed her over as you gave Alexia a grateful smile, “She wanted her Mami didn’t you Val.” Your youngest nodded as she clutched Alexia’s top tightly in her hand and relaxed at the familiar and safe smell of her Mami. “Creo que alguien tiene hambre, ¿eh?” Alexia asked with a smile as she bounces the girl on her knee. “I have a bottle in my bag amor you go get another glass of wine, I’ve got her.” You press a kiss to her awaiting lips before giving your daughter one too. “Where’s my kiss?” Mapi teases as you coo mockingly at her and press kisses to her cheek. Mapi laughs loudly as she embraces the affection before her attention is captured by the little girl in her best friend’s lap. 

“She really is the cutest thing in the world, all your kids are dios!” Alexia smiles brightly and Mapi can feel the pride radiating of her best friend. “You really are the best mother Ale, you’re pequena’s adore you.” Alexia glances away from Val to send Mapi a soft smile, ¿Quieres saber mi secreto?” Mapi cocks her head, lips quirking in anticipation. “I have the greatest woman in my life, she taught me what love really is and what happiness feels like, and she brought me the most perfect little girls I could have ever asked for.” Alexia kissed her youngest’s cheek as she held the bottle for her.

“I would say you’ve gone soft, but you’ve always been this way.” Alexia laughed softly before nudging her best friend, “Gracias amigo.” 

“Mapi! Mapi! Will you and Ingy push me and Mateo on the swings por favor.” Mateo nods eagerly as he clutches Emilia’s hand in his. “Ay, Godmother duties call, adios Vally!” Alexia watches fondly as Mapi picks both Mateo and Emilia up and their giggles light up the atmosphere even more than possible. 

Alexia’s eyes flicker over to where Isabella is passing a ball around with Jana, someone who Isabella absolutely idolises, eyes lighting up when she sees her lead Barcelona out to a full Camp Nou, armband proudly displayed just like how Alexia used to be before she retired. 

Finally, her eyes land on you in deep discussion with Kiera and Aitana. Alexia is overcome with the amount of love she constantly feels whenever she looks at you, it’s the same feeling she got when you were just kids and you had given her your favourite crayon to draw with. The same love she felt when she got down on one knee and proposed and when you walked down the aisle in the most breath-taking dress. 

Val squirms a little and Alexia realises that she had moved the bottle slightly away from her daughter. With a soft apology and kiss to her head she pulls her closer as her eyes flicker around again. 

“Promise me you will never grow up Val.”

Val slightly grunts around the bottle in her mouth and that’s a good enough answer for Alexia. 

#alexia's favourite girls #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas #alexia putellas oneshot #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso #barcelona femeni

[coco-loco-nut]

Fortnight

pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

summary: you were never cut out to be a WAG

a/n: guys i really like this one so i hope you love it too 🤍

masterlist ttpd masterlist

_______

“Oh my god, we need to get you help,” your best friend, Logan, gasps, walking in on you, three beers deep. You are sitting on the floor of your bedroom, Lando’s too when he’s actually home, the curtains closed, dirty clothes scattered on the floor. What he doesn’t know is that this is your normal.

“I’m fine,” you don’t even slur. Your phone is discarded to the side, beside the latest apology flowers given -shipped- to you by your supposedly loving boyfriend. You haven’t picked up his last couple calls, so he sent your friend to check in.

“Come on, get up and shower while I clean all this, and you call Lando after,” Logan sighs, pulling you off the floor as you finish the beer.

You begrudgingly walk to the bathroom, your friend setting out a fresh change of clothes. “Just, don’t tell Lando. He’s stressed enough,” you tell him, closing the door once you get a confirmation.

Twenty minutes later, you are sitting on the edge of the sink, phone ringing.

“Babe, are you okay, you haven’t been answering?” Lando asks, his worried voice makes a pit in your stomach.

“Lan, I’ve just been a little busy, that’s all. Sorry for worrying you. Are you okay?” despite him being the reason the reason for your recent state, you don’t want him to be hurt.

You miss breaks, when he would be with you all the time, now it seems like you only see each other in passing, like good neighbors who make that corny comment about the weather.

Lando finds you in a similar position as your friend did, except this time you are crying on the floor, not drunk. He got a couple free days off and is eager to spend them with you.

“Darling, what happened?” he kneels down beside you, his voice making you cry harder. “Baby,” his voice and heart breaks as you look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks.

“I-,” you gas for air. “I love you, Lando. It’s ruining my life,” each sob breaks his heart.

“No, no. Don’t say that,” he pleads, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Do you know the longest amount of time we’ve spent together? 14 days, a fortnight. I can’t keep doing this. The apology gifts for missed moments, the quick phone calls that are hardly passable for time spent together,” you pause to catch your breath, the tears still flowing. “I can’t do this, Lando. I miss home, I miss America,” your eyes meet his, both of you broken.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were struggling this much,” he whispers, sitting down and pulling you into him.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you look away, the feeling of him foreign.

“I’m off the next couple days, let’s work on us,”

“Lando-,”

“And I’ll bring you to more races even though I know you find it hard to get off of work,”

“Lando-,”

“Please don’t say it,” he whispers, kissing you. Another foreign feeling.

“I’m moving back to America, tomorrow,” you tell him, feeling like you’ve hit absolute rock bottom. Lando looks around the bedroom, realizing the only thing of yours left was your packed suitcase in the corner.

“Were you going to tell me?” he asks, your eyes not able to meet his.

“I was going to visit you in Woking tonight,” the silence that falls between you is deafening. You spend the night in separate rooms, and in the morning he insists on driving you to the airport. He gets out of the car, pulling your suitcase out for you.

“Please don’t go,” he asks one last time, the both of you crying.

“I have to, Lando. It’s what’s best for both of us,” you step closer to him.

“Winter break is almost here, please, just a little longer. This isn’t what’s best for me,” Lando says, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I love you, Lan, but you deserve someone who can be with you at each race and support you more than I can,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You are always enough for me, I love you,” he cries.

“Please, Lan, I have to put myself first,” you grab your luggage handle and take a step back.

“I won’t block your number, if you ever need anything or are in London, call me, I’ll be there at the drop of a hat,” Lando says, his tear stained cheeks glistening in the sun. His offer is a complete change to how your relationship was.

“Goodbye, Lando,” you turn around, walking into the airport. You hand covers your mouth as you sob, refusing to turn back and look at an equally distressed Lando.

You refuse to check social media, only texting your family and Logan when you land in Miami. You knew Logan from karting before you quit, and he became your closest friend. He offered his apartment in Miami to you until you buy your own.

You quickly got a job and moved to Destin, a whole 9 hours away from Miami, 11 from Austin. Florida is treating you a lot nicer, but you feel stuck in an endless February. You took the magic move on pill that is relocating, but it doesn’t seem to be working. You changed your phone number when you got back to the US, and deleted your social media apps. Lando tried calling you and DM-ing you, but never got a reply.

“I will fly you down, please just come and support me. I need you at my home race,” Logan begs, wanting you to take a two week vacation to spend time with him in Miami and Fort Lauderdale. Something deep inside you agreed, so you pack your bags and hit the road, electing to drive.

You arrive the Wednesday before race week, and stay until the Wednesday after race week. It is nice because you can visit your own family too.

“I got you a paddock pass,” Logan says as you both lay on the beach the day you got in.

“Lo, I can’t go back there,” you turn your head to look at him.

“You can stay in Williams, you don’t have to go visit Oscar when I do,” Logan says, referencing the Australian who is also staying with Logan. Oscar promised he wouldn’t tell Lando you were in town.

“You know, I can get you a much nicer car than your Mercedes,” Oscar says, sitting beside you. Logan gets up to grab two waters.

“A McLaren? Not my thing, I hated driving,” you can’t even bring yourself to say his name. “Yeah, but I do love my car, I always wanted it,” you say.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Oscar leans over, bumping you with his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t. It’s still hard. Sometimes I think about calling him, but he won’t pick up. I have a new number and he has a new girl from what Logan said,” you admit.

“He’s miserable, he will never admit it, but he is. He hasn’t been the same since you left, but you seem to be doing a lot better. You have color back in your skin and you aren’t drinking all the time,” Oscar says, knowing what state you were in when Lando called Logan to check in on you. You were a functioning alcoholic, barely functioning at that point.

“Yeah, this was the right decision. Maybe it’s best if I don’t call Lando. Even if he is miserable, it might make things worse. I can’t get back together with him, but I want him to be okay,” you tell Oscar. What you don’t know is that Lando is renting the beach house beside the one you, Logan, and Oscar are staying in for the two weeks. He is jealous about how happy you seem with his teammate and your best friend.

You figure it out when you take a midnight walk, clad in a sweater with your university’s logo on it.

“Lando, hi,” you breathe, taking him in.

“Hey, you look really good. I like the sweater,” he shifts his weight in the sand. You look healthier, happier, and it kills him.

“I, um, changed my phone number and deleted my social media apps,” you say, answering the question he didn’t want to ask.

“I tried dating again, but I broke it off, I couldn’t do it,”

“Sorry, I should’ve thought about how I would hurt you,” you say, looking at your feet in the sand.

“No, you needed to do it. I don’t blame you, I was basically abandoning you,” Lando says, silently inviting you to join him on the walk. It becomes a habit, you join him every night.

“Congrats on the win,” you hug him on night 11. It was a silent agreement that you would go your separate ways again after the two weeks.

“Where are you living now?” Lando asks on night 14, both of you sitting in the sand between the two houses.

“Destin, Florida. I bought an apartment that used to be a timeshare,” you say, watching the waves.

“That’s pretty close, right?”

“Nine hours, Lan. other side of the state,” you smile, trying not to laugh. Lando’s heart flutters at the way you say his nickname, but squashes it.

“Oh, well I’m glad you were able to come down and support Logan,” he says, yawning a little.

“Alright, I have to wake up early to drive home,” you stand up, brushing the sand off of your legs.

“Drive safe,” Lando hugs you, finally feeling healed.

“Goodbye, Lan,” you whisper.

“Goodbye,” he whispers back, capturing the look of you in his mind.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #logan sargeant #oscar piastri

[wh1msic4alwasab1]

𝐄𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐬 ദ്ദ

synopsis: relaxing bath w/husband ajax

tags: bath sex, praise, nipple play, creampie, penetration

wrd cnt: 0.8k

a/n: ajax is a FAMILY man, i’ll die on this hill

“Yeah and what after that?” Ajax asked, wanting to hear more about your day. His hand soothed over a portion of your thigh, spreading the soapy water across your warm skin as you sat inbetween his legs. The aroma of eucalyptus and rose in the air.

“I think I would have died if it I had to work overtime, thankfully though someone was there so I could go home.” You sighed as you closed your eyes. Ajax gently kissed your head from behind you.

“That sounds really stressful, glad you’re home now.” He smiled as he moved his hands up to your breasts, rubbing them softly before pinching your nipples. “You know, maybe you don’t even need to work at all. I can support us both.” He smirked as he leaned back against the side of the tub and watched your face change into one of pure lust. “How does that sound?” He asked as he saw your mouth drop open in excitement.

“I-I could consider that…” You whispersd as you leaned back into his chest.

“Yeah?” He whispered, both his hands now massaging your breast with the warm, scented bath water. “I can help you relax everyday then, you won’t have a thing to worry about.” He said, as he kissed the nape of your neck.

“Mhm...” You moaned as he trailed his hands down to massage your thigh. He ran his hands along the inside of your thigh, sending chills through your entire body. “Fuck...” You gasped when he finally reached your core, running his middle finger between your lips.

“Please...” You begged, throwing your head back to rest on the crook of his neck, atop his shoulder.

Ajax chuckled as he parted your legs, putting one of them up and above the bathtub wall.

“Of course, princess. Anything you want.” He replied, leaning forward to kiss down your neck before meeting your lips. He pressed his against yours as his tongue slipped inside your mouth. He explored every inch of your mouth with his tongue.

“Ajax...” You whimpered as he began to rub circles around your clit. He grinned at your reaction, loving how much you enjoyed this. His fingers danced across your sensitive area, teasing you until you begged for more. “Please, please...” You moaned, arching your back as he continued to tease you.

“Please what baby? Use your words. Just like you were doing before hmm?” He teased, one hand pinching your nipple and the other toying with your slit.

“Make me feel good…” You mumbled out, but he wasn’t going to embarrass you any further.

Ajax pulled you closer to him, turning you around and pulling your chest against his. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding onto your hips tightly. He kissed down your neck, sucking on your collarbone as he felt your wetness inside you.

“Feeling better yet?” He teased as he spread your legs apart and settled himself in between them.

“No...” You pouted, feeling empty without his touch.

“You will soon, I promise.” He teased again, slowly inserting himself inside of you, letting your walls adjust to him before he began thrusting into you. He groaned in pleasure as he felt your walls tighten around him.

“Ajax!” You screamed as he hit your g-spot repeatedly. “Oh fuck!” You moaned as you felt yourself start to climax once more.

“Come for me… all over my cock, yeah pretty girl?.” He grunted as he slammed into you again, picking up his pace. You couldn’t hold back anymore, coming all over him.

“Yes! Of fuck-, oh god, yes….” You screamed as your walls clenched around his member, milking him for all he was worth. He growled in pleasure as he felt you tighten around him.

“You like that, princess? You like my cock inside of you?” He asked as he picked up his pace even more.

“Yes! Yes, fuck! Please don’t stop!” You cried out, reaching up to grip the edge of the bathtub. He laughed at your response.

“Don’t worry baby, I won’t stop anytime soon.” He grunted as he felt you squeeze around him even tighter. “gonna to fuck you until you can’t walk anymore.” He grunted as he slammed into you once more. “then to fuck you some more.” He grunted as he kept slamming into you.

“Oohhh fuck!” He grunted as he felt you squeeze around him even tighter.

“Ajax- I’m gonna come!” You cried out as he fucked you faster and harder.

“Good girl. Good girl….take it all. Take my cum deep inside of yeah?.” He grunted as he felt you squeeze around him even tighter. He felt his balls tighten up as he got ready to spill inside of you. He grunted as he slammed into you once more, hitting your g-spot again, squeezing you tight.

Feel better now?

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

#jo’s posts #genshin smut #childe tartaglia ajax #childe smut #genshin childe #childe tartagalia #tartagalia genshin impact #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x reader #genshin tartagalia #tartaglia #ajax smut

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!! how are you?

i recently burned my thigh with my iron curler and it formed a big scar. it started slowly bubbling up and i accidentally popped it like 2 days ago so now i have fresh skin open 🥲 it’s extra sensitive and i have to patch it up. and when i let the wound breath it HURTS 😭

i was wondering if you could write about this with emt!marauders? or maybe just james? idk lol whatever you feel like writing it about.

AND IF YOUVE WRITTEN ABOUT THIS ALREADY, MY BAD 😃😭

Hi lovely, I'm good! I'm really sorry this happened, it sounds awful!! Hope it's feeling a bit better by now <3

cw: severe burn (no details)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 786 words

“I don’t think we should do this.”  

“I mean,” says James, sitting patiently opposite you on the bed, “I don’t love it either.” 

“Then let’s not,” you bargain.

 He gives you a sorry smile. “What do you think we should do instead, angel?” 

You take a deep breath. “Leave it,” you say on the exhale. “It’ll heal eventually. Or it won’t, and the bandage will become my new skin. I could be fine with that.” 

“I’m somewhat attached to your real skin.” 

“We all have to make sacrifices, James.” 

Your boyfriend gives you an amused look, but there’s worry beneath it. You feel guilty for putting him through this. It’s bad enough that he has to change your bandages for you because you’re too squeamish to do it yourself, but now you’re also making him convince you as if it were his idea. 

You blow out a long breath, tilting your face up toward the ceiling. “I can’t see it.” 

“You don’t have to,” he reassures you. “You can close your eyes, baby.”

“How bad is a little infection really?” you ask, but you’re already laying back, succumbing to the plushness of your pillow. 

“I had a dog bite get infected once,” James says, pulling your leg into his lap. Strong, gentle fingers on the underside of your thigh. “I didn’t enjoy it.” 

“You got bitten by a dog?” You turn your head to see him, but he shoots you a look and you sigh, covering your eyes with your hands. “When was that?” 

“When I was little.” One of his hands stays cradling your leg, but you feel the fingers of the other probing carefully at the edges of your bandage. Apprehension climbs up your throat, mingling with the ache of affection that’s already there. You appreciate how delicate James is with you, peeling the bandage up gingerly by one corner instead of ripping it off like some might. “It wasn’t really the dog’s fault, it was just spooked and I didn’t know enough to stay away.” 

You hiss as the bandage sticks to a tender bit of skin, and James coos an apology, stroking the unharmed skin beside it soothingly. Then the whole thing comes off, air hitting the wound and making you tense all over. 

“What happened with the bite?” Your voice is somewhat strained. 

James hesitates. “There was a lot of puss involved,” he says. “You won’t want to hear the details.” 

“Mm, thanks.” 

He chuckles. You can hear him twisting the cap off the antibiotic ointment. Your fingertips press harder into your brow bone. 

“You alright?” he asks softly. 

“Mhm. I’m ready.” 

You still gasp through your teeth when the ointment makes contact with your skin, and James grips your leg more firmly to keep you from flinching away. 

“Sorry,” he hisses, working fast as he can with gentle, caring fingers. “Sorry, baby.” 

“Not your fault,” you squeak out, keeping your own fingers pressed tightly over your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.” 

James doesn’t seem to want to accept your thanks, and you let the silence sit. When he’s done, you both sigh. 

“Thanks,” you say again. For good measure. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Definitely not,” James agrees. “I’ve no idea what we’re going to do when I’m hurt someday and neither of us can look at it.” 

You drop your hands from your eyes and sit up on your elbows, careful to look only at James and not down at your leg. It’s not hard. He’s a lovely sight, even with that sympathetic pinch to his mouth and worry tightening the muscles around his eyes. You reach for his hand, and his expression lightens. He wipes his fingertips off on his jeans before giving it to you. 

“We’ll have to call Remus,” you say, squeezing his fingers. 

A laugh startles out of him. “I thought you were going to say you’d put your squeamishness aside for me. Or that it wouldn’t be gross because you love me, or something.” 

“I would if it were true,” you reply, “but I’m afraid I won’t be much help if I’m gagging over you the entire time. I’ll hold your hand while we both don’t look, though.” 

“Mm, fair enough.” He scoots closer on the bed. His hand finds your opposite hip, rubbing a slow back-and-forth. “And you’ll distract me with kisses while I’m nursed back to health?” 

“If it’ll help.” Your voice is soft. “Though I should point out that I haven’t received any kisses.” 

Twin dimples appear on either side of James mouth as he leans over you, careful to avoid your hurt leg. “Patience, angel,” he murmurs as his lips brush yours. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x self insert #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter hurt/comfort #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter drabble #james potter blurb #james potter one shot #james potter oneshot #marauders #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #the marauders #hp marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Denial of Desire

Yandere Vampiress x Henchman Fem Reader

TW: comphet, internalized homophobia, denial of feelings, yearning, slowly slippping into madness, yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, murder (threatened), etc.

Ophelia often dismissed you despite your constant concern of her well being. You knew she was a vampire and a mistress of the night, but she consistently put herself in danger. You once loved Ophelia, yet you knew she was straight. It would be rude to impose your feelings on your mistress when she only held distaste for you. Especially since you were nothing more than a servant to Ophelia.

Whether it was to hunt for food or to bring some random man back to her manor, you always had to clean up the mess. It started to get on your nerves since you were still new to being a vampire yourself… yet you had no interest in drinking human blood. Not like Ophelia did.

“Your cleaning skills are subpar. Can’t you do it any better?” Ophelia nagged you as she kicked over your mop bucket with her black pinkie wickers. You sighed, hours of work now ruined in mere seconds.

“My lady, I was simply on the first round of mopping. This quite difficult to remove old blood from the walls and floor.”

“Then find a better way to do it. I need to fetch my next victim soon and I don’t want them to see this mess.” Ophelia gestured to you and the filthy floor. “If you have any complaints, you can simply leave.”

You bowed your head and frowned. No matter how kind you were to your mistress or how you did your best to meet her demands, it was never enough. You were never enough.

“Apologies, I’ll keep cleaning.” You went back to scrubbing the walls and floor. You couldn’t let her rudeness get to you… not until you found a new master at least. Ophelia would be hosting a vampire ball by the end of the week so you may have your chance to flee then?

Ophelia studied your form before she smiled. You never complained no matter how rude she was to you, it was a trait she adored about you. She wished every servant was like you. It would make her life less stressful then… except she knew you were her favorite. You always dutifully fulfilled your every command in a timely manner… Ophelia was positive you’d always stay by her side. Why would you ever leave your mistress? She made you.

Ophelia had brought yet another man home and quickly whisked him up to her room without sparing you a glance. You shook your head at her antics before you decided to explore the manor’s garden to tend to. Despite now being a creature of the night, you still retained your love for gardening. It was just a shame you could never see the flowers under the sunlight again…

Ophelia on the other hand, couldn’t even get past kissing with this man. He was just like all the others before him… no matter what she did, it felt wrong. Being with men made her feel sick to her stomach and the vampiress didn’t understand why.

All her life, her parents told her she’d find a man one day and she could turn him into a vampire to be with her… yet all of them were subpar. Their genitalia disgusted her and they were far too hairy for her. Everything about men was gross other than their blood. That’s all they seemed to be good for…

Ophelia wiped her mouth from yet another messy meal, the vampiress made her way to her balcony to study her night garden. And that’s when she spotted you. What were you doing down there?

Ophelia studied your form as you trimmed up some of the bushes and tended to the flowers. You were so soft looking compared to the men. Soft and delicate like the petals of the roses below… forever young and beautiful thanks to Ophelia. You’d never have to age or worry about sickness. In Ophelia’s mind, she saved you. Yet why did you always look so sad? Was her company not enough for you?

Ophelia rested her arms on her balcony, her red eyes scanned your sullen form in thought. She wondered if her night would be different if it was you beneath her and not the many men she’s brought to her room. If your skin was as soft as it looked… if you were sensitive and lovely- no!

Ophelia shook her head and pushed herself from the balcony in haste. The vampiress ran a pale hand through her Snow White locks in horror. Why would she think of you in such a way? You were another woman… you weren’t a man. You were soft and sweet like fruit but she couldn’t have you. She couldn’t sleep with you because you were a woman. And Ophelia wasn’t a lesbian… she couldn’t be. She had to produce a pure blood vampire, it was her destiny.

Yet her impure thoughts said otherwise. Ophelia knew the truth deep down… she loved you. It’s why she was so mean to you. It was to try to scare you away.

When the ball came around, Ophelia’s breath hitched when she spotted you in your dress. How could someone look so lovely? If she still had a beating heart, she was sure it would burst

Ophelia did her best to ignore you at the ball but her eyes often shifted to you as you danced with other vampires… how could you dance so carefree with other women? Didn’t you feel shame like she did?

It was when Ophelia hung out with a young couple of pure blood vampires that she questioned herself. This couple consisted of two women? Two female vampires could be together? It was okay to be… she had no idea she could make that choice.

Ophelia felt tears gather in her eyes as the two pure bloods reassure her that it was okay to like other women. That they were immortal creatures who could do whatever they pleased.

And that was all it took for Ophelia to go running after you. The vampiress had to confess, she had to tell you how she felt-

Ophelia nearly fell to the floor when she saw you kissing another vampiress. Her dead heart dropped to her feet in shock when you ran your fingers through the other woman’s black locks. You… you were hers. You were her servant and no one else’s!

Ophelia wanted to kill this vampire you touched! How dare she touch you when you were her property! You cannot be with anyone other than Ophelia, herself!

Ophelia rushed forward and separated you from the other vampire. Her breathing ragged and her white hair in disarray. “I am in need of your assistance this instant. You do not have time to fraternize with the other candies here.”

You can’t even protest as Ophelia dragged you away by your arm. You’re speechless when Ophelia dragged you up the stairs towards her room.

“Mistress-“ You’re suddenly thrown to her bed, unable to scramble away since Ophelia lunged at you.

“I hate you…” Ophelia cried. “I hate how you make me feel. How I can’t get you out of my mind.”

“Mistress-“ Ophelia pressed her lips against yours with fervency. Her hands hungrily grasped at your flesh. You’re absolutely gobsmacked at this transgression. What?

“I hate you so much because I love you. I love you so much, it makes me crazy.” Ophelia muttered into your lips. “And I don’t care who I have to kill or what I have to do, I won’t let anyone else have you.”

#female reader #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere obsession #yandere horror #yandere headcanons #yandere villain #yandere lesbian #yandere wlw #sapphism #sapphic #yandere vampire #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere original character #yandere concept #yandere insert #yandere imagines #yandere female #yandere girl #yandere girlfriend #fem reader #wlw yearning #wlw love #comphet #girl and girl

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for turning someone in for academic dishonesty?

I’m an American IB diploma candidate, and this ask does center around that, so sorry if we all just sound unbearably seventeen-years-old.

If you don’t know what the IB diploma is, think of it as if you had to write a bunch of essays and take a bunch of classes and do a bunch of service hours and then take AP tests on all those classes and add the AP scores together, and if they add up to a certain number, you get a special diploma that looks good to colleges.

Only eight people in the entire grade (we’re seniors and our exams are happening so we’re at the very end) are left in the IB diploma program right now because we made it this far and are all hoping our exam scores and essays. The program isn’t super popular at our school so we tend to have to mostly prepare ourselves for exams and such, so we’re all very proud of ourselves for getting this far and hoping that when our scores come out we get the diploma.

In short, we’ve done TONS of work. TONS OF WORK. And we haven’t received the amount of support that some IB schools are able to give. And suddenly, one of the IB diploma candidates admits in the group chat, “yeah, chatgpt wrote all of my IB essays.” If you know stuff about IB, she explicitly admitted to cheating on her Extended Essay, TOK Essay, TOK exhibition, Chemistry HL IA, History HL IA, Literature HL Essay, and Art HL Comparative Study.

That’s hours and hours and hours and hours of work that the rest of the diplomats candidates did that she’s just flippantly admitting she let an AI do for her.

but…….it also wasn’t really any of my business. So I wasn’t sure whether I should tell or not—especially since I’m the known goody-two-shoes of the group and I didn’t want to be viewed as a tattletale.

I asked two of the diploma candidates I’m friends with what they thought. One of them said “don’t be a snitch,” and the other said she wasn’t sure and kinda felt like I should talk. So… split response.

I was leaning towards “don’t be a snitch,” but eventually I just felt really indignant that this girl and I might receive the same end result for doing wildly different amounts of work. And I had evidence that she cheated—she admitted it herself. So I went to the school’s IB coordinator and I talked. I showed the screenshot. I essentially betrayed one of the candidates in a very tight knit group of students who are all breaking our backs to get this diploma with little to no IB-specific support from our teachers (our classes are all co-seated with non-IB-test-takers, who take up most of the class, which is an entirely different issue), but now it turns out one of us wasn’t even doing the work the whole time…

So I did it and it went to the administration and they’re “deciding how to proceed.”

Reason I’m worried I’m TA: she trusted us with that information and I told on her

Reason I think I might not be TA: it feels unfair that we should have the same shot at getting the IB diploma when the nights I stayed up crafting the perfect extended essay were the same nights she asked chatgpt to write her an essay and then moved on with her life and somehow did it well enough to not get caught.

AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Guilty As Sin? — Chapter One

pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader

rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, not a lot here beyond some world building, the party starts next chapter :)

word count: 3.6k

series masterlist

Though it was the first day of the fall semester and your first day as an official law student, you felt exactly the way you had the year before when you were a struggling undergrad. Same town, same friends, even the same apartment in the student housing complex right next to campus that you shared with three of your closest friends, Nina, Derrick, and Alondra, who just so happened to be law students as well. 

It seemed every aspect of your life had remained stagnant for the last four years, except for one critical thing—you were now a single woman. Four years of the most confusing, toxic, passionate relationship of your life now dead and buried thanks to your ex-boyfriend’s inability to keep his dick in his pants. You’d have to see him too this semester, though you tried to keep the prospect of an awkward run-in out of your head as you got ready for the day to the sound of a busy apartment. Nina and Derrick had breakfast duty this morning, the two of them shuffling around the kitchen as loudly as they could, it seemed. Alondra, like you, was sitting across the hall in her bedroom blasting Kali Uchis out of her speaker, though after two years of living together the noise didn’t really affect you at all anymore. 

“Food’s ready,” Derrick said, popping his head in the crack of your open door. 

Standing at six-foot-two with brown skin, hazel eyes, plump lips, and the sharpest bone structure you’d ever seen, Derrick was beautiful. The two of you had done an awkward dance ever since you’d known him, with Derrick silently crushing and you silently rejecting him. You didn’t know what it was about him that didn’t appeal to you; he was kind, handsome, and funny, all the things a normal girl could want. 

But you never really felt like a normal girl. 

You liked the men that didn’t like you back, the men who desperately needed someone to fix them, always convinced that you had what it took to do just that. Of course, you knew better than that by now, but there was a part of you that worried you. A part you always had to keep an eye on, too afraid of your naive, trusting heart taking the reins. 

“I’ll be out in a sec,” you said, coating your eyelashes in a decent amount of mascara. Derrick leaned against the doorframe, watching you with something too close to adoration for your comfort. You laughed it off, waving your hand at him. “Go away.” 

“Am I making you nervous,” he teased. Truthfully, he was. Just not in the way he probably hoped. 

“I’m trying not to stab myself in the eye,” you said instead. 

“Mmhm,” he chuckled, patting the doorframe. “Hurry up, your plate’s at the table.”

“If you’d let me concentrate.” 

Ten minutes later, you were sitting at the table with Derrick on your right—his plate conveniently set beside yours—and Nina and Alondra across from you.

“I’m swearing off of hookups this semester,” Alondra announced, earning skeptical glances from the three of you. “I am!”

“Until Sabina calls you up late at night claiming she’s lonely and sad,” Derrick teased. You kicked him under the table only to find out that Nina had done the exact same thing. “I’m just speaking the truth.”

“You’re a man, you don’t get to speak your truth here,” Nina said. “And as for you—“ She turned to Alondra beside her. “The minute you run into that bitch, you’re done for. Best to accept it now.”

“No, I’m done with her,” Alondra insisted, though you’d all seen this before. Every fall, without fail, Alondra and her toxic cheater of an ex-girlfriend, Sabina, get back together, and every summer they find a reason to break up, only to repeat the cycle the next year. “I might try dudes for a while.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snorted, carrying your plate to the sink. “Since when are you into dudes?”

“Since Sabina ruined all women for me,” she sassed. “Besides, sexuality’s a spectrum.” 

“What about you?” Nina asked, turning in her chair to watch you wash your dish. “Any plans this semester? Hopefully ones that don’t include a toxic relationship?”

“Certainly not,” you replied with a laugh. “I’m gonna be the most boring fucking person at this school this year. No shitty men, no partying, just school.”

“Twenty bucks I get her to black out this weekend,” Nina challenged, turning to Derrick and Alondra. 

“I’ll take that bet,” Derrick said, shooting you a wink. 

“Alright, while you guys are betting, I’m gonna head out to class. You know, like a serious law student,” you teased, drying your hands off before making your way to the front door. “I’ll see you guys in class.”

The first class of the day was Dr. Brown’s Contracts lecture. You’d had him during undergrad for your Criminal Psych class and specifically sought him out while registering because of his laid-back approach to teaching. Though he appeared to be yet another stuffy old man at face value, his personality was much more in line with that of The Dude from The Big Lebowski. He reeked of weed, loved to curse, and didn’t give a shit about all the formalities the rest of your professors insisted upon. 

Dr. Brown’s class passed by with ease, his lecture on the contract breach between Apple and Samsung paired with a meme-filled PowerPoint amusing you enough that you forgot you’d been sitting there for two hours. 

The next class of the day—Dr. Arman’s Legal Research and Writing course—was far less amusing, but at least Dr. Arman didn’t ask much from her students besides following along with slideshows and turning in the occasional paper. Still, the next hour and a half drudged on like feet on sand, Alondra nodding off beside you in the back of the lecture hall. 

“Shit,” she whispered, snapping awake after a nudge from your elbow to her side. “Is it almost over?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, backing up your bag. “I have to hustle to Criminal Law, you good?”

“Yeah, just gonna rest my eyes for a second,” she mumbled, already falling back to sleep. With a fond smile, you rolled your eyes at her and left the hall. 

The last class of the day was Criminal Law I, taught by Dr. Peña, a professor you’d never had in any of your undergrad classes. It was always a toss up every time you entered a new lecture hall whether or not a professor would end up on your shit list, and a sinking suspicion told you Dr. Peña would not be as casual as Dr. Brown nor as lenient as Dr. Arman. No, there was always one overly demanding, arrogant old prick of a professor each semester without fail. 

Though you’d arrived fifteen minutes before class, all the good seats were taken by the time you walked into the hall, leaving only a few seats at the very front. Sighing, you looked longingly at Nina as she sat in one of the back rows, surrounded by a flock of hopeful men desperate to make her laugh. She caught eyes with you and gasped when she realized where you were headed. 

“No, girl, not the front,” she called, earning a dejected nod from you as you reached the mostly deserted front row. 

As you unpacked your bag and notebook—you hated using your laptop in class—Derrick quickly slid into the seat beside you with a huff, as if he’d just finished a marathon. 

“Had to climb over a row of people to get down here,” he said, smiling at you.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, nudging his shoulder with yours. 

“Wasn’t gonna let you slum it down here alone.”

“Thanks,” you chuckled. “You know anything about this guy?”

“Yeah, my brother had him when he went here a few years back,” he said, opening his laptop. “Apparently he’s a dick.”

“Of course he is,” you sighed. 

“You have class after this?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “You?”

“Nah, just the gym with Nina,” he said, stretching out his legs and relaxing into his chair. “You could come, if you wanted.”

“I hate the gym,” you said, scrunching up your nose. “Besides, I need to go get groceries and stuff. Maybe get a head start on Brown’s project.”

“Responsible,” he nodded in approval. “Boring but responsible.”

“All these boring years are gonna pay off when I graduate top of the class,” you quipped, earning a scoff. 

“That’s what you said in undergrad and who ended up graduating at the top?” he asked with a smirk, sticking his chin up with pride. 

“I was one percent away from kicking your ass,” you rolled your eyes and chuckled. 

“Maybe you’ll find another shitty boyfriend to distract you—“

Though you would have liked to hit him for his comment, you were stopped dead in your tracks as the most handsome, brown haired, broad shouldered, puppy-eyed looking man walked out of his adjoining office and up to the desk at the front of the class. He carried an air of authority with his furrowed brows and disapproving frown as he waited for the class to quiet down. 

“If you’re all finished,” he said, unpacking his book bag while scoping out the faces he’d be spending the semester looking at, starting with the back. You watched him with interest, hating that kick of adrenaline the moment his eyes met yours. He seemed to linger for a half a second longer than he had with everyone else before looking away, furthering your delusional thoughts. “Welcome to Criminal Law I. My name is Dr. Peña, you’ll refer to me as such. I except professionalism, conciseness, and competency from the lot of you. You’re graduates now. Time to act like it.”

“Jesus,” Derrick muttered beside you, shaking his head. 

“There will be no whispering, no texting, and for God’s sake, no music in my class. You’re here to learn and I’m here to teach.”

You listened as a few students gathered their things and silently made their exit from the hall. Dr. Peña watched them with a smug look that did little to shoo away your interest. Fantasies of receiving that same look in a far more inappropriate context flooded your mind, visions of you on your knees in his office. 

“Good, now let’s begin. We’ll be covering the penal code today, along with territorial jurisdiction. Can anyone give me a definition of the latter?” 

Never one to volunteer an answer without being called on, you waited for someone else to take the fall. Dr. Peña seemed just as patient, his arms crossing over his chest in a way that pulled at the fabric covering his arms. You quickly turned your eyes down to your notebook when he caught you staring, busying yourself with jotting down the date. 

“In the front,” he said, earning your attention. When you found him still watching you, you let out a small sigh. “Would you care to give us a definition, Miss…”

Giving him your last name, you searched your mind for the definition that you remembered learning at some point during your four years of undergrad. 

“Territorial jurisdiction refers to a court’s power in a certain territory,” you said, swallowing down your nerves as you began to feel your ears heat. 

“And in regards to Texas? Can you give me the section of the Penal Code that covers territorial jurisdiction?” he asked, his voice a deep, whiskey warm timbre that hit you like an aphrodisiac, your mind running rampant with all sorts of inappropriate scenarios of hearing that sinful voice up close and personal.

“I…don’t know,” you said, lowering your eyes down to your desk just to get a break from his steady eye contact. 

“Section 1.04,” he said, a hint of arrogance in his tone. “Now that you have the section, would you mind reading the text for us?”

Taking a deep breath, you flipped to the section in your textbook, hoping that your nervous stutter didn’t make an appearance today. 

“I can do it,” Derrick volunteered, mildly irking you. Did he think he was saving you? Or was this his attempt at competition? 

Dr. Peña waited until he was finished to admonish his interruption. 

“Thank you, Mr…,”

“Crawley,” he said, offering him a charming smile. 

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Crawley, but in the future, I ask that you refrain from interjecting. I’m sure your friend was perfectly capable of reading aloud,” Dr. Peña said, causing Derrick to scoff under his breath. “Alright, I need a volunteer from the second row to read the next section.” 

Derrick seemed to take it to heart, his ever-present smile long gone as he typed his notes on his laptop. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, tapping his shoe with yours. 

“S’whatever,” he shrugged, but you knew him well enough by now that it was far from whatever to him. Derrick was always the best in every class, always adored by professors. You weren’t sure he’d ever been scolded by a teacher in his life, let alone in front of the entire class. “He’s a prick.”

“He’s—“

“Are we interrupting?” Dr. Peña sighed, leveling a look at the two of you as if to say, really? You shrank in your seat, avoiding his stern eyes. “Anyways, you were saying, Miss Martinez?” 

After a tense hour spent listening to Dr. Peña pick on the class, it was time to pack up. You could practically hear your bed calling as you packed your things into your bag, except…

“Would you mind staying behind for a moment,” Dr. Peña asked, calling your name. You gave Derrick a wide eyed look, earning a raise of his brow. 

“Sure, um—“

“I’ll wait up for you,” Derrick offered, slinging his bag over his shoulders before filing out of the lecture hall with the rest of the class. 

Once alone with Dr. Peña, you began to feel sick with anticipation, especially as he sat quiet at his desk shuffling through papers. 

“I’d like to apologize for today. I’m afraid we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” you said, carefully approaching his desk. “I assure you, this is nothing I take more seriously than this. I—“

“I asked you to stay behind because I’m in need of an assistant for my undergrad Intro to Forensics class and your name was given to me by the Dean,” he said, looking up at you with a mixture of exhaustion and boredom in his eyes.  

“Wait—what?” you gave him a puzzled look. 

“Your name is listed in the TA program, is it not?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. You tried not to ogle him, but the way his white button down stretched across his broad chest made it damn near impossible.

“It is, but—“

“You’re one of the only law students available who’s taken the class before,” he said, clicking his pen as he began to mark the syllabus sheets he’d passed out towards the end of class. “So, what do you say? Three labs a week. Paid, of course.”

“I’m not sure I can handle the extra load, honestly,” you said. Though you were sure the extra work would certainly up the pressure, it wasn’t the real reason you were so quick to decline. Truthfully, it was him. How were you supposed to be around him an extra three days a week when you were already worried about the three you’d be spending with him in this class? “But if you’re in need of a recommendation, Mr. Crawley took Intro to Forensics with me and—“

“Take a day, think about it. First lab is Wednesday,” he interjected, glancing up at you with those brown eyes that looked both innocent and dangerous at the same time, a confusing balance your overly romantic heart longed to study in depth. You chuckled, a sound of disbelief over his disregard for your rejection, as you watched him turn back to his work. “I’ll have the Dean send over a formal offer this afternoon.”

“What time are the labs?” you asked, slowly accepting your fate—or, more accurately, accepting his stubbornness on the matter. 

“Eight to ten in the evening,” he replied, sounding as though he might yawn at the prospect. “Not ideal.”

“No,” you agreed, offering him a small smile. “I, uh, I’ll think about it.”

Not wanting to embarrass yourself—or endure more of this delusional torture—you made your exit as quickly and gracefully as you could manage, waiting until you were out in the main hall to freak out. 

“What did his fine ass want?” Nina asked, approaching you with Derrick in tow. You snorted at her brashness and rolled your eyes. 

“His fine ass wanted me to TA for his Intro to Forensics lab,” you replied, shaking your head as you looked through your tote for some gum, hoping to distract your rampant fantasies about said fine ass. 

“What the fuck?” Derrick griped, shaking his head. “I’ve been begging the dean to get me a TA position this semester but he said all the positions had been filled.”

“I tried to recommend you,” you offered, giving him a sympathetic frown. “I don’t even know if I’ll take it—”

“Then let me,” he said, hope lighting up his eyes. Even though you still had yet to make up your mind on the matter, his assumption that you’d just give urubbed you the wrong way. 

“I’m gonna think about it first,” you said, sharing a knowing look with Nina. 

If there was one thing to fault Derrick for, it would be his tendency to step on people—even his closest friends—to secure an opportunity. Even when he didn’t need to, even when he’d already won over most professors on campus, even when he knew his female friends struggled to reach even half of the respect given to him strictly because he was a man. 

“You coming with us to the gym?” Nina asked, changing the subject as she watched you bite back the urge to tell Derrick that maybe, just this once, it would be you stepping over him to secure a good opportunity. 

“No thanks,” you chuckled. 

“Lame,” she said, glancing over at Derrick who seemed to be lost in thought. “Well I’m gonna go change.” 

“See you later on,” you said, watching as she made her way down the hall. 

“So you think you might take the job?” Derrick asked, sticking his hands in his pocket. 

“I might,” you admitted, shrugging your shoulders. 

“Just…be careful,” he cautioned, causing your brows to furrow. “Male professors can be creepy as fuck.”

“Men in general can be, yeah,” you laughed. “But I’m sure I can take care of myself.” 

He nodded, ticking his jaw. 

“Well, I gotta go get groceries,” you lied, desperate to get back home, crawl into bed, and maybe do something about those fantasies from earlier. “I’ll see you back—“

“Come to dinner with me,” he blurted, biting his lip as he watched you go through a rollercoaster of emotions. Shock, amusement, confusion, before landing on something akin to empathy. 

“What? Derrick—“

“Just one date,” he promised. “One date and if it doesn’t work out, you know…we can just stay friends.” 

“I don’t know that it’s that simple,” you said, looking anywhere but at him. 

Why was he so dead set on going down this road; of making this mistake that you knew would end terribly? 

“Just a date,” he coaxed. “And I promise no weirdness afterwards if it doesn’t work out.”

“You can’t promise that,” you muttered, shaking your head. “And even if you can, I don’t know that I can.” 

“That’s assuming it goes bad,” he said, nudging your shoulder with a smile. “Friday night, you and me, some fancy restaurant I can barely afford. What do you say?”

Perhaps it was the new year, or maybe just the endorphins brought on by the sight of Dr. Peña in his tight slacks, but what did you have to lose? A good friend that you weren’t even sure would be your friend if he didn’t believe it was his only way in? 

“Fine,” you said, sighing. “One date. No weirdness. No expectations.”

Derrick grinned, nodding as he pulled you in for a hug. “Won’t regret it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you chuckled. 

“Excuse me,” Dr. Peña appeared, in the doorway the two of you were blocking, causing Derrick to pull you out of the way and into his side. You watched Dr. Peña’s eyes scan the proximity between the two of you, a hint of disapproval on his face that you were sure you were imagining. “Have a good afternoon, you two.”

“You too,” you managed, sliding Derrick’s arm off your shoulder. “Also—“

Dr. Peña stopped, turning back towards you. “I, uh, I’ll take the job.”

“What?” Derrick scoffed, earning a curious look from Dr. Peña. 

“Very well,” he nodded. “You’ll find the contract in your email tonight.”

“Thank you for the opportunity, Professor,” you said, trying your hardest not to purr the last word out the way your filthy mind yearned to. 

Thank you for the opportunity, Professor. Such a fucking cliche that you had no intentions on perpetuating. 

Except for the fantasies. After all, what harm could come from a silly little fantasy?  

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javi peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #guilty as sin?

[zephyrchama]

(Mentions/descriptions of minor injuries, present and past.)

“There, all good.”

“Thanks, Satan.”

Your leg looked much better now that it had been disinfected and bandaged. Not that it was in bad shape to begin with.

Anyone would have thought a dire medical emergency occurred by the way everybody had leaped into action when you fell. Six of the brothers somehow managed to carry you together - one for each limb and another two on the sides to support your back - because they couldn’t pick just one person to help you back to the classroom.

It was incredibly embarrassing. You closed your eyes to avoid making eye contact with any of the other students, but you still heard the hallway whispers and Thirteen’s loud laughter.

Once back inside, Lucifer immediately evacuated his seat behind the podium at the front of the room. You were placed down like a precious glass ornament. Each brother played a different role in patching you up, but you would have been fine on your own.

“This cut kind of reminds me of one I got as a kid.” You twisted your leg around a few times to look it over. “It’s in the same spot.”

Mammon leaned against the back of the chair and grabbed your shoulders. “Are you tellin’ me you cut your leg before?”

“…yes?”

“First time I’ve heard that.” Beelzebub frowned.

Satan nodded thoughtfully, hand on chin, “you’ve never told us this before.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz I just remembered it.” It happened so long ago that you completely forgot.

Asmodeus buried his face in his hands. “How could you be so irresponsible?”

“I was a kid! Kids get scrapes all the time. I probably got it the same way, too.”

“You fell? Well… At least it didn’t scar.”

“Asmo, how d’ya know that?” Mammon asked.

“Because I know every inch of their skin very intimately.” Asmodeus smirked.

Mammon gripped your shoulders tighter. “Ok! Well! So do I!” he growled.

Leviathan came to sit on the floor next to you, looking worried. He fiddled with your pants leg to make sure the hem wouldn’t roll down over your bandage. “So there were other times you got hurt as a kid?”

“I mean, yeah? Bruised my arm pretty badly one time, right here.” You pointed to the spot.

“How come you never told us?” Belphegor asked. He was craning his head up to look at you while laying on the table, which Lucifer hadn’t noticed until that moment. The eldest gave him a push.

Belphegor muttered some choice words and slunk off to get a chair of his own, which he relocated closer to you. It screeched loudly as he dragged it along the floor. Beelzebub just stared and the others flinched, but Satan and Lucifer looked ready for violence until the youngest finally plopped down.

“We’re supposed to know everything about you,” he stated.

“Since when?”

“Since forever,” Leviathan was quick to clarify. “You have to tell us everything, and don’t spare any details.” His sentence ended there, but you swear you heard “the lore…” whispered almost imperceptibly.

“You better not be holdin’ back on us.” Mammon shifted a bit. He appeared to be getting tired of standing, but didn’t want to give up his prime real estate by your side.

“So I have to tell you everything? Like… when a butterfly poked me in the eye?”

A couple of them winced.

“Did it hurt?” Asmodeus asked.

“Did you tear it apart?” Belphegor asked.

“No, I think I was more shocked than anything? Maybe a little? And no!” You glanced down. “Levi, stop taking notes about me.”

Leviathan tutted and swiped out of the notes app on his D.D.D..

These demons and their theatrics. You couldn’t help but smile. “You’re all just overreacting, as usual.”

Satan shook his head. “No, I think you’re under-reacting. There are lots of dangers to humans in the Devildom. You could have gotten a nasty infection.”

Asmodeus gasped, “you could have lost your leg!”

”Or attracted predators,” Beelzebub added.

“On school grounds? Please. At worst I’d only attract Mephisto sniffing around for a scoop for his newspaper.”

Lucifer crossed his arms. You had faith he was going to say something sensible. “At least this isn’t as bad as that time you bruised your rear in the bath.”

There were seven scandalized gasps, including your own. “I told you that in confidence!”

Mammon was yelling in your ear, “how come I wasn’t the first to know about this? Hah?”

Asmodeus lept forward, “show me where!”

“Is it still there?” Satan inquired.

“Do you not trust us anymore?” Beelzebub looked deflated.

“That’s not it, Beel, I just- ack, Levi!” You shouted and shook your bandaged leg as the third-born clung to it desperately.

“It wasn’t my bathtub, right?” he practically sobbed. “Aahhh, I knew I needed to fill it with more pillows. Ahhhh.”

“Why would they be anywhere your tub?” Belphegor took hold of Levi’s collar and wretched him back. By the way he fell, it wouldn’t be odd for Leviathan to get a butt bruise, too.

“If it happened in your room, you would have been there,” you assured, knowing this would start another round of arguing.

The bell signaling next period mercifully rang. You’d never been happier for class to start again. All that was left was to get to your usual seat, which you stood up to do.

“Woah, whaddya think you’re doing?” Mammon put an arm in front of you.

“Going to my seat…?”

“You’re in it, sit back down.” Lucifer said.

You hesitated, giving them a puzzled look. For a moment you considered running past them. A simple cut wouldn’t hold you back, but there were no scenarios where you could outrun them without magic. You narrowed your eyes and sat down as the seven surrounded you again. You got a bad feeling.

“Just make it quick.”

Other students were already starting to filter into the room. You didn’t particularly want to be seen being relocated by these overly doting brothers. You grabbed the edge of the seat as four of them lifted it up, with the others griping about there being insufficient space for them to grab hold anywhere.

#mc being able to say “thanks satan” completely unironically is amazing. #they start waving the chair up and down and doing the hora with mc in it #obey me #obey me swd #obey me! #omswd #obey me scenarios #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanon #obey me x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me brothers #obey me brothers x reader #obey me brothers x mc #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me drabble #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me mc #obey me fanfiction

[stevenose]

misty (18+)

a cowboy!steve fic for @moodringeyes - thank you for always supporting me, finch!! 🫶🏻

summary: you haven’t seen your cowboy in days and it’s time for some good tender lovin’ 🫶🏻

contains: cowboy!steve x reader; reader with a vagina and breasts; historic!au; sappy gooey gushy sex; comfort; piv; first time ‘i love you’s; soft dom!steve

authors note: this fic follows along with the lonesome crowded west series (aka, the canon where reader owns a tavern). we are rly fast forwarding here in their relationship but u deserve to be told by a soft cowboy that he loves u <3 thank u again finch for supporting me and cowboy!steve!!!!

You hear his boots clicking against the hardwood. Must have used the spare he found when he first started tomenting you to get in. You’d been ignoring him the last few days, and not exactly for any good reason. You’ve just been exhausted. It’s been so hard juggling everything. And when things are hard, it’s hard for you to take care of yourself.

It’s hard to believe that part of taking care of yourself was seeing your cowboy.

But you’d been remiss, not answering the notes he’d left slipped under your door. The ones where he told you he missed you, that he wanted to see you, that he was worried. You cringe as he approaches, expecting a scolding or perhaps a bit of teasing.

“What’s goin’ on with you?”

He says it so soft. It still startles you. Steve can be such a sweetheart when he wants but it still finds a way to surprise you. Especially when he’s caked in dirt, hands calloused, sometimes bruised and a little bloody.

You sniffle, the rag you’d been using to dry dishes moving towards your cheek. “Nothin’.”

“You scared me. Thought somethin’ bad happened to ya.”

You shake your head, tears re-wetting the glass below.

“Can ya look at me, darlin’?”

You try to level your breathing but it’s really no use. Your cheeks are already ruddy and tear stained. You turn, a look of defeat tugging at your features, your arms folding up over your chest defensively.

You really missed him. Your heart hurts when you see him for the first time in days with his lips downturned and eyes soft. “C’mere,” he beckons, and you don’t hesitate, striding towards him and throwing yourself into his big, strong arms. He smells sweet like hay and soap, must have cleaned up before coming to see you. You melt into him and exhale shakily while he moves a hand up to stroke your hair.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asks. Kisses the top of your forehead, making you warm. “What is it, huh? Someone givin’ you a hard time?”

You shake your head, gritting your teeth to hold back a sob. After a moment, you whisper, “I’m just so tired.”

“I know,” he coos. Rakes his fingers through your hair. “I know, peach.”

“I missed you.”

He laughs softly. “D’you mean it?”

You look up at him, vision blurry from your tears. “Steve,” you nearly wail, almost insulted at the implication that you didn’t. “I thought about you every goddamn day!”

“I know, I know,” he shushes, wiping your tears away with a calloused thumb. “Settle down, darlin’. Know you’re always missin’ me, how can ya not, huh?”

You frown up at him. “I really did.”

Steve sighs, nodding, looking into your eyes for a long, drawn-out moment. “I love you,” he says. It’s the second time he’s ever said it.

“I love you,” you whisper. It’s the first time you’ve ever said it back.

You watch his face flush, his eyes gleaming, a laugh slipping past his lips. He cups your face in his big, warm hands and presses his lips to yours. He’s soft and tender and you melt into him, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him closer to you.

“Wanna go home,” you murmur against his lips.

“Trigger’s outside,” he mumbles back. “Let me take ya.”

You melt into him, arms wrapped around his waist on the back of his horse. The nights get cold here, but Steve’s still warm. If it weren’t for the promise of more of him, you’d fall asleep and let him carry you inside. But you’d like to stay up, like to be near him, like to see how much he missed you. Because you know he’ll show you. He always does.

You scoff when he takes you back to his, the little dilapidated, run down shack on the edge of his boss’s property.

“Don’t mean to kidnap ya,” he says. “Just wanna have you to myself a little longer, take care of ya.”

You nod. “‘m not opposed.”

Steve snakes a hand downwards to lay atop of yours, resting on his stomach. “I’d opine you missed bein’ takin’ care of, huh?”

“More than you’d know.”

“That’s the thing,” he says, voice rich and tender. “I missed takin’ care of you, too.”

His bed isn’t ever exactly comfortable, but as you lay on it tonight, you relax into it. Waiting patiently for Steve to tie Trigger up before making his way back inside. He lights a lamp, the dim glow golden and safe.

“Did you undress?” he asks, tugging at the buttons of his shirt.

You pull back his quilt to answer him. He stares for a long moment, gobsmacked, hungry for you. Then he’s quick to rip off his own clothes and climb on top of you, his weight pushing you further into his hay-filled mattress.

“I missed you so much,” he almost whines.

You take him in - his chestnut eyes, slowly darkening; the freckles littering his neck and shoulders, going down where you can’t see anymore; his long brunette hair highlighted by days in the sun, tousled from his work; his broad nose; his soft pink lips. To think you’d ever have hated him, to have been anything other than his - wonderfully, irrevocably his - well, it’s hard to consider.

“I missed you more,” you breathe. “Show me.”

His lips are back on yours. Just as soft and tender as ever. He props himself up with his elbow and lets the other hand run up your side gently. You sigh, eyes fluttering shut, as much as you’d like to drink him in.

“Can ya say it for me again?”

“I missed you.”

“No,” he corrects, nipping at your bottom lip. “Wanna hear you say you love me.”

You blink up at him, eyes readjusting to the dim light. He’s so handsome, pleading at you with his pretty eyes.

“I love you.”

“And - do you mean that?”

You nod slowly. “I do.” Your voice softens. “Do you?”

“Always have,” he says.

You stare at each other for a moment longer before making the mutual, unspoken decision to discuss this later. Steve ducks his head down to press kisses against your jawline, sucking at the sweet spots on your neck. Your body reacts immediately, growing needy, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Wanna take my time with you,” he murmurs, his tongue flicking out against your skin. “Ain’t got much of a lesson for ya tonight.”

Your stomach flips, fingers finding purchase on his broad shoulders. You roll your head back into his pillows to give him better access to your throat.

“You’ve been so good, ain’t ya? Pretty babe, takin’ care of things all by yourself.”

You nod, involuntarily pouting.

Steve’s teeth press into your neck for a moment, making you gasp, before he lets up. “It’s so hard bein’ good, ain’t it? So much easier to be bad.”

Tears prick at your eyes. “I don’t want to be bad anymore.”

He laughs a little, shaking his head while he moves down your body. “Know you’ll have an attitude change tomorrow, peach, but I’ll enjoy you bein’ sweet while I can.”

He kisses down the swell of your breast slowly, making you wait for him with baited breath.

“So goddamn beautiful,” he says, breath fanning against your nipple, making it hard. “Thought about you every day out in the field, ‘bout your sharp mouth and pretty tits and smart brain.”

He kisses your nipple, watches through his lashes when your mouth drops open.

“Missed me, did ya? Can’t do this to yourself, huh, angel? Need me t’come make it all better.”

Steve finally wraps his lips around it and you sigh, squirming already. “Please,” you whimper, hips arching off the sheets when he bites down a little.

“What do you need?”

“You,” you whimper. “Inside, wanna feel close.”

He sighs, pulling back. “Y’know, I really wanted to spend some time with these….”

“You still can - just - both, at once, please?”

“Really must’ve missed me,” he says, smiling, taking your thighs in his warm grip and pushing your legs up. “Bein’ so nice all of a sudden.”

Steve gets you in a mating press, thighs resting on your chest - it appears he really couldn’t spend some time with them if this is how he wanted you. He takes his cock and glides it up your slick folds, moaning all the while. “Oh, sweetheart, I missed this pussy….”

He doesn’t enter you - just fucks himself against your folds, the tip of his dick catching against your clit. You’re panting under him, holding your legs to your chest, feeling every single inch of him slide against you.

“Wish you could see this,” he groans, voice deep, grumbly. “We look so good together.”

You nod. I know, I know, I know.

He pulls his eyes away from where you’re meeting to look at you, eyes dark. “You’re mine, ain’t ya?”

You keep nodding. “I’m yours.”

“Good,” he moans, finally pressing himself against your entrance. “Always gonna be, yeah?”

He presses into you and you moan loudly. Can’t help yourself. It feels so good, being stretched open on him, his heat filling you up. He takes your legs from you and slides them over his shoulders, pushing you into his bed in the process. It’s claustrophobic, but so good, so close to him, full of him. You stare up at him with a gaping jaw and he laughs breathlessly, brows furrowed in pleasure.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” he grits out. “Hard workin’ pussy just grippin’ me, shit.”

You laugh at his words, but stop abruptly when his hips snap back, and then in. He knocks the breath out of you, makes you dizzy, his cock filling up all of the space you have to offer.

“Jesus,” you breathe, “Christ.”

“This is the quietest you’ve ever been on my cock,” he drawls. “Come on, let go for me.”

A rough thumb comes down to play with your clit while he thrusts deep and slow inside of you. You’re writhing, gasping, squeezing his shoulders with your ankles. You’re properly bent in half, letting Steve hit every angle you’ve needed him to find. You finally wail, eyes squeezing shut, hands gripping at the sheets beside you.

“Uh-huh,” Steve pants. He’s not going very fast but holding back is such a chore. He equally wants to fuck you stupid and take his time with you. “There y’go, let’s hear it.”

“Steve!”

“So beautiful,” he rambles. “So goddamn pretty and smart and workin’ so fuckin’ hard. Gonna make sure y-you never work a day in your - shit, in your life. Ever. Again.”

He punctuates it with harsh thrusts that make your body jolt. “I love you,” you cry, tears of pleasure rimming your lash line.

“Love you. Love you so much, I mean it.”

He leans down to kiss you, thumb still working hard at your clit, the head of his thick cock pressing against your sweet spot. You can hardly kiss back, crying out from how good it feels, your teeth clashing against his. “Oh m-my God, shit!”

You’re so close to release, feeling the band in your stomach growing tight, threatening to snap and leave you stupid. Your eyes cross involuntarily while Steve keeps whispering sweet nothings to you, coaxing you to let go. “I've got you,” he mumbles, “let me feel that pretty pussy clench on my cock while you cum.”

You’re practically screaming when it finally happens, despite Steve trying to shush you with his mouth. It feels so good, he feels so good. You feel so safe and complete with him on top of you, warmth washing over your body from your head to your toes. And Steve’s not very far behind, either, groaning your name and pushing himself in to the hilt before spilling inside of you.

You both pant, breathing in each other’s air before Steve finally pulls back. He kisses your shaking legs, massaging them as he lets them off of his shoulders to rest. He smiles at you when you open your eyes, still a little fucked out, euphoric.

“You feelin’ okay?” he asks, reaching up to swipe a pleasured tear from your cheek.

You nod, relaxed, in love.

#steve harrington smut #stevenose posts #cowboy!steve #ns/fw #steve x reader #love u finch!!!

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Prophecy (Lucien Vanserra x Rhys! Sister)/(Azriel x Rhys! Sister) Part 2

Part 1

AN: Wow I just want to say I have been so overwhelmed by the love part one got. Thank you for all the comments! I truly cherish each one!This part is a little short, because if I end up doing two different versions (a Lucien version and an Az version) this is where they will probably split off.

If you're new here check out my masterlist!

Summary: The only thing worse than having Azriel not know about the bond is watching him and Elain carry on like she doesn’t have a mate as well. Lucien and you have been long time friends but things change after one fateful starfall celebration. It’s not wrong if both of your mates don’t want you right? 

Warnings: so much fluff, Angst, they be fightin'

Word count: 3485

“Are you sure you want to do this?  We can fully elope if you want to.” I whisper to Lucien as we stand in front of the double oak doors to my brother's office. 

At first I was confident that we had nothing to worry about. But now that I stood here, with only an ornate piece of wood separating us from the High Lord? The nerves had started settling in.

“I’m sure, an honorable male would ask your brother's permission before wedding you, and you deserve nothing but an honorable male.” he smiled, squeezing my left hand, the one his family ring currently found its home on. 

“But what if he says-” 

“Are you seriously doubting my silver tongue right now?” he smirked, cocking an eyebrow at me. “There’s a reason I was cursed to wear a fox mask for 50 years my darling.” 

“Believe me I know all about that silver tongue,” I laughed, nudging him with my shoulder as I recalled what that silver tongue did to me last night.  

“Shall we?” he asked, donning an unbothered face. 

“We shall,” I smiled before pushing open the doors. 

Inside the ostentatious study sat my brother, with his mate perched on his desk beside him with her back facing us. He broke his love sick gaze on her to see Lucien and I standing at the end of his desk. 

“Sister…Lucien, this is a surprise,” Rhys said, fixing some papers on his desk, as if to collect the thoughts swirling inside his head as well. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t knock, that was an oversight on our part,” I laughed thinking about the thousands of compromising positions we might’ve found them in. I silently thanked the cauldron for keeping that reality at bay. 

“I was hoping I could discuss something with you,” Lucien said regally. I was so taken back by his tone I couldn’t help but look up to him, his face was nothing short of the son of a High Lord. 

The air in the room stiffened as Feyre turned around to sit on the arm of Rhys chair, I suddenly felt like I was in a fishbowl. My brother and I had always been very close, I had shared everything in my life with him, there wasn’t a story of mine he didn’t know. But he didn’t know about Lucien, and I wasn’t sure how he would react to that. 

“Of course Lucien you can speak to us about anything,” Feyre smiled warmly,  placing her hand over Rhys’ as if to calm him down.

“With all due respect Feyre this is just between Rhysand and myself,” Lucien stated with the utmost respect, yet I still nudged his foot in warning. 

Rhys shifted in his seat a bit, placing his hand on Feyre’s hip, “Anything you have to say to me you can also say to my mate Vanserra.” 

This was not going according to plan. 

“Well, you see,” Lucien looked at me and I gave him a subtle nod to continue. “Y/n and I have been seeing each other for quite sometime now-” 

“And by seeing each other you mean?” Rhys interjected. 

Lucien cleared his throat, “We’re all adults here Rhysand I-” 

“You mean to tell me you’ve been fucking my sister?!” Rhys growled and I swear the mountains stirred in the distance. 

“Rhys calm down!” I shout but Feyre speaks up first. 

“How long has this been going on for?” Feyre asks, calmly. Her voice seemingly caused Rhys to lower his hackles. 

“Since Starfall,” Lucien answered truthfully. 

“Dammit I owe Cassian money,” she cursed looking at the door of the adjacent room. 

Rhys turned to look at his mate bewildered, “you had suspicions and you didn’t tell me?” he gasped. 

“Well Cassian thought they were going to hookup that starfall but I said there was no way,” Feyre said seemingly disappointed she lost a bet. 

“Guys?” I probe, turning both of their attentions back to us.

“What I’m trying to say is I admire your sister very much Rhysand, and I would like to ask for your permission for her hand in marriage,” Lucien said, giving my hand a squeeze. 

Feyre looked to Lucien, “But Elain is your mate?” she asks, confused. 

“And Azriel is yours y/n,” Rhys reminded me. 

“Come on Rhys, it’s been 400 years. If the bond was going to snap it would’ve happened by now. Azriel doesn’t want me.” I say honestly, and for the first time, the words don’t sting as much as they normally do. 

Lucien picks up my train of thought, “And Elain has made it perfectly clear that she wants nothing to do with me.” he says to Feyre, who gives him an apologetic glance.

I look over to see Lu smiling down at me, “We’ve been spending a lot of time together, and we get along well. I’m at my happiest when I’m with him,” I smile back at him before turning to my brother and Feyre once more. “Lucien is a good male, he’s kind and he takes care of me. I think we could make eachother really happy.” 

Lucien tugs on my hand to bring my attention back to him, “And y/n is a beautiful, smart, and charming woman. Any male would be lucky to call her his wife, including me.” his lips curl upward, and I can’t tear my gaze away from him. 

I had begged the Cauldron all my life to bring someone into my life who would choose me. I used to think that person was Azriel, but after all my years of flirting with him and trying to get the bond to snap I was only ever met with nothing. Yet here Lucien was, standing in my brother's office, saying I choose you. 

Feyre’s voice broke my train of thought and pulled both of our attentions, “Aww, Rhys they're so sweet,” she beamed grasping onto my brother's arm. 

Just like I had prophesied, I saw my brother's hard exterior melting under the ‘ooos’ and ‘ahhhs’ of his beloved High Lady. He stood from his desk and I felt Lu tense beside me as we both waited with bated breath for what the High Lord was going to say next. 

“Lucien Vanserra,” he said, holding out his hand. “Welcome to the family.” 

The tension in the air dissipated as everyone in the room smiled, Feyre was practically jumping for joy. Lucien gave Rhys a firm handshake over his desk and I could see that while the proposal was unexpected for my brother, he wasn’t unhappy. He knew just as well as I did that Lucien was a good male, that he would be good to me. 

“Oh we need to start shopping for dresses right now! I’ll grab Mor and Nesta and we can go out! We’re going to need a cake too!” Feyre squealed, hugging me tightly. 

“Uhh that’s the other thing,” I said hesitantly, not wanting to step on my sister-in-law's happiness. “We didn’t want a big wedding.” 

“We actually wanted to elope, and we want you two to be our witnesses.” Lucien picked up my sentence.

“Oh of course we will,” Feyre smiled looking at both of us before wrapping her arm around Rhys. 

Rhys looked more troubled than he did moments ago, like the idea of an elopement didn’t sit right with him. However if he did feel that way, he didn’t voice it. Not when the idea seemed to excite Feyre so. 

“When is the date?” Feyre inquired. 

I looked to Lucien who was already looking to me for an answer. We had never given the date a thought. I shrugged my shoulders at him, hoping he might take the lead. His eyes twinkled with mischief, it was that same look he gave me before he did something like wipe whipped cream on my nose or use his flames to singe my bum as he slapped it.

“The day after tomorrow,” he said with certainty. 

“The day after tomorrow?” the whole room gawked. 

Lu turned back to me, “Yes. We’ve never been conventional, why start now,” he gushed giddy with infectious excitement. 

I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face, “Okay,” I giggled. “the day after tomorrow.”

He leaned down to scoop me up in his arms spinning me around the room, Feyre’s laughter and my own bouncing off the ornate wood paneled walls. 

“But what will you wear?” Feyre asked, seemingly trying to figure out something in her head already. 

I pondered the idea myself before it hit me like a ton of bricks, “Oh I can wear mothers dress!” I exclaimed looking at Rhys.

“I’m sure that’s what she would’ve wanted,” Rhys smiled, tossing his arm around his excited wife. 

We parted ways with the promise of seeing them later this evening at family dinner. An event I typically despised, but now? Things didn’t seem so dull. I was walking in with my fiance, instead of alone. 

Lucien and I ran down the hallways hand in hand, laughing like teenagers getting away with sneaking out. 

“I can’t believe I just did that,” he laughed, backing me against a wall. 

“Did what?” I ask, out of breath from running. 

He leaned in close to my ear, “Told your brother how thoroughly I’ve been fucking you,” he smirks pressing a kiss beneath my ear. 

“Well you didn’t use language that graphic,” I snicker while playing with the ends of his hair. 

He pulls his head back from my neck to give me that mischievous look again, “I can always go back in there and tell him,” he teases. 

“Or…” I say low in his ear, “you could just show me.” I say suggestively. 

Lu’s lips curl upward brushing against the shell of my ear, “You little minx!” he growls hoisting me up, earning a squeal from me. 

“You are beautiful and amazing and charming and you are going to be my wife,” he gushes, placing a kiss on my lips for every tender word. 

Lu smiles at me before titling my chin up to meet his lips, the kiss warm and sweet. His hands pull my waist closer to him, and I bring my own from his chest to loop around his neck. He presses his forehead. 

This was the start of a new chapter, one where I was somebody’s first choice. One where I was chosen and loved. One where I didn’t come home to an empty home, or show up to solstice parties without a date. One where I had someone to kill the spiders in the house for me, one where I was chosen. 

As Lucien held me close to him, I could sense he felt all the same things too. It was a new start for both of us. A chance to be happy. 

That evening after much celebration from Lucien and I that involved some time between the sheets…and the shower… and the living room floor…we finally dressed for dinner. 

Dinner with the family was typically a laid back affair, it was the one time a week we could all see one another. Rhys would even make sure no one had any assignments during that time so that there were no interferences. My dress was nice yet laid back, nothing like what I would wear for starfall or a ball. 

Lucien came up behind me as I put on my earrings in the stand up mirror.

“You look lovely, my wife looks lovely,” he said, taking the earring back from my hand to place it on himself. Kissing my bare shoulder in the process. 

“I’m not your wife yet,” I smile, turning in his arms. 

“Maybe so but you’re going to be,” he reminds me, kissing my nose. 

“The day after tomorrow,” I say 

“The day after tomorrow,” he repeats back. “Now let’s go before our tardiness causes your brother to call off the wedding.” 

I laugh taking his hand and walking down the townhouse steps into the brisk night air. I checked to see that I had moved my impromptu engagement ring to my right hand before we got too far away. While I was excited about marrying Lu it was important to me that the wedding stay an elopement.  I wasn’t sure how the rest of the family would react. Despite our good humor and book swapping, Nesta may choose to rip off my head for taking her sister’s mate and who knew how Cassian might feel about me marrying a Vanserra, even if it was Lucien. 

As Lu held open the gate to the townhouse for me, the same way he did on starfall a year ago. I was sure that I had made the right choice. Not just in my future life partner, but in keeping the engagement secret for just a few days more. 

The family gathered around the table, each one of them placing a dish in the center to be shared. During dinners we didn’t like to have the maids do all the work, per the request of the Archeron sisters. They said it felt more homey if we all pitched in on the work and they were right. Lu and I parted ways and I gave Feyre and Nesta a warm hug before continuing to set the table. It seemed everyone was in high spirits as even when I passed by Rhys to lay down the potatoes he gave me a kiss on the forehead. 

Maybe everyone was in a good mood for once, or maybe things just seemed lighter because I didn’t walk in here by myself tonight. 

Dinner moved quickly, and Lucien sat next to me as he normally did, both of us thick as thieves kicking each other's feet all night. It was impossible to keep such a happy secret from the family, but it was also insanely fun. Every now and then I caught a knowing glance from Rhys or Feyre. But whenever Rhys looked at me his next glance was always to Azriel, who didn’t seem to suspect a thing.

When the meal was over we all took our goblets of wine and moved to the living room to drink, laugh and tell war stories, as we always did. Normally this was when I would make some half-assed excuse as to why I had to leave. The last thing I wanted to see was a bunch of mated couples all over each other. My heart still panged as Elain chose to sit on the arm of Azriel’s chair, but it was lightened by the brush of Lucien’s fingers against the back of my head as he went to sit across the room next to Rhys and Feyre. 

It wasn’t until Cassian started talking about going to war with the Valkyries for the one millionth time that I decided that I definitely needed more wine for this story. So I stood and marched my way into the kitchen with the promise of bringing back a couple bottles for everyone. 

The walk-in wine cellar in the kitchen was cold, so when I turned around with two bottles in hand and bumped into a very warm chest I nearly yelped. 

“Shhh it’s just me,” Lucien grinned, taking the two bottles from my hand to place on the counter beside us. 

“Lu you scared the shit out of me,” I say in a hushed tone as he hoists me onto the countertop. 

“I’m tired of watching them all cuddle up to one another in there, I want to cuddle up to you as well,” he smirked, placing kisses all over my neck. 

“Down boy,” I giggle, acting like I don’t feel the exact same way. I feel his lips curl against my skin as I run my hands through his hair.

“This is only going to get worse once you’re my wife,” he smiles, placing a slow kiss on my lips. 

“WIFE?!” 

I whip my head around from where I’m sitting on the counter to see Azriel standing in the doorway, a look of pure betrayal written all over his face. Lucien’s hands found my waist pulling me off the counter so that my feet were firmly on the floor. 

“You’re marrying him?!” Azriel shouts again and suddenly a smaller figure appears behind him, swathed in light pink and roses. 

“He’s my mate you can’t just take him,” Elain exclaims, seemingly coming into her own. 

I immediately see red at her words, completely disregarding Azriel in the room. Elain who wouldn’t give Lucien the time of day. Elain who knowingly entered an unethical relationship with Azriel and flaunted it. Elain who barely glanced at the pearl earrings Lucien had bought her for solstice. She had the gall to claim him, after the way she treated him.   

“Take him?” I scoff. “You don’t even want him.” I shout back, the words coming off a little harsher than expected. 

“She’s right y/n, Lucien is her mate,” Azriel interjected looking down at me, as if this situation didn’t benefit him in every way. Gods he would just do anything to make that girl happy. 

“That’s deft coming from you shadowsinger,”  Lucien snickered disdainfully, cocking his head at the spymaster. 

Azriel bristled, “What's that supposed to mean?” he snarled. 

I put a hand on Lucien’s chest to get him to back down, “It doesn’t matter, we’re happy. Is it really your mission to make everyone in this court miserable but yourself Elain?”

“HEY!” Azriel barked, taking a step towards me, his shadows rising behind him. 

Before he can get a step closer Lucien grabs his arm, “Easy,” he hissed, but Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave my scared form. 

Never in my life had Azriel raised his voice at me in such a manner. While I wanted to say I was unphased, the outburst had scared me.  As soon as he noticed my reaction to his behavior, a realization seemed to dawn on him, and he quickly stepped back.

“You’re taking my mate, was there a way I was supposed to react?” Elain sneered just as snarky as ever, as if this was just a cat fight among the females. 

The red I saw turned to crimson as I realized once more what she was doing. She didn’t want Lucien because she loved him. She wanted him because she felt entitled to him, she wanted both of them. My mate and hers. 

“You take my mate, I’ll take yours!” I seethed the words spilling out of me like venom, unstoppable and poisonous to those in the room. 

Elain’s eyes widened and I realized that the secret that I had kept for 400 years had finally come out. My stomach dropped and my blood ran cold, the world around me fading away as I discerned what I had done.  

“What did you just say?” Azriel said in disbelief, my eyes flitted over to his. 

Anger and hurt flashed in his golden eyes. I didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t know what to say. I had never prepared for this. 

“Azriel I-” 

“I’m your mate?!” he sneered, his voice tinged with malice.

 I felt a scarred hand grip my upper arm as if to winnow me away but Lucien was on Azriel in an instant gripping his arm right back. 

“Get your hands off my wife,” he growled, raising his own metaphorical hackles. 

“By the looks of it she’s not your wife yet. But apparently she’s my mate so I will handle her however I please,” Azriel said, getting up in Lu’s face, but to Lucien’s credit he didn’t back down.

It was as if after 400 years the bond snapped for Az. And every urge that came with that bond had snapped in place with it. The worst part of it all was that I didn’t know how to feel.   

“That may be true but I won’t allow you to touch her in anger,” Lucien stated glowering at the shadowsinger. 

Elain and I remained speechless and unmoving as Rhysand slid into the kitchen eyes ablaze at the scene before him. 

“What the fuck is going on?” he bellowed as he saw Azriel gripping me and Lucien gripping him. 

“It seems that Lucien has decided to wed my mate,” Azriel said with a smooth calm that sounded more like a warning shot. 

“You treat her as if she was-” Lucien snarled back before Rhys cut him off. 

“That’s enough!” he shouted and it was enough for both males to let go. “All of you get out of my sight and simmer down. We can talk about this when you can behave like adults!”

I think to protest my brother's orders, but he shoots me a glare so cold, so unyielding that I find myself sinking into Lucien’s embrace. I look to Azriel who wears his disappointment in me unnervingly well before winnowing both Lucien and I back home. 

to be continued...

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#lucien vanserra x reader #lucien x elain #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #lucien acotar #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff #azriel x reader #rhysand acotar #cassian acotar #lucien vandaddy #lucien vanserra x elain archeron #lucien vanserra x you #azriel smut #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel x reader angst #azriel x reader fluff #azriel x reader smut #feysand #feyre cursebreaker #feyre acotar #feyre archeron

[colonelarr0w]

Just a random, domestic scenario that I thought of about Astarion and it made me soft enough to put into writing.

Picture this …

Astarion, especially after everything that he’s been through with Cazador, definitely has to re-teach himself what it means to love without primarily focusing on physical intimacy. Everything that he’s ever known about loving someone, or rather, everything that he thought that he knew about loving someone is restricted solely to sex.

Of course, his understanding of love drastically changes when you waltz into his life. You with your words of affirmation, you with your soft hands, you with the hugs and kisses that don’t necessarily lead to something more. It strikes him as odd … why is it that you saw past his body and looked at him? Really, truly looked at him.

In the beginning, it scares him. It invokes a feeling in him that he wasn’t able to define, and in truth, it scared him. It scared him that every time your arms wrapped around him or every time your lips touched his, he felt warm. For a second, for one singular split second, Astarion felt alive.

And because of that, he pushed you away. It scared him even more when you actually let him.

“We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” you’d told him one night. You were sitting up beside him, his head resting beside your thigh while his eyes stared up at the flickering night sky. “I have no problem waiting for you.”

And wait for him you did. Never once did you pressure him into anything, never once did you make him feel as if your touch was anything but comforting — you didn’t want him to revert back to the mindset that he had become so accustomed to. When he reached for you, you did the same. And if he didn’t, you never grew angry with him.

For that, he was thankful.

All of your waiting comes to a head one night at the camp’s fire. As usual, you sit at Astarion’s side, both of you sitting in a comfortable silence. His fingers itch to hold yours, but he wills himself to stay completely still — even though he wants to hold and touch you, something in him roots him to his place, preventing it.

“Astarion?” He turns at the sound of your voice, blinking away the glazed look that had pained his eyes in favor of looking at you instead. Your eyebrows pinch together, creasing the space between your eyes. “Are you alright love?”

“Fine,” he answers, voice dead and cold. You hum, nodding your head, not prying any further. Even though he certainly doesn’t want to speak about what plagues his mind, a small part of him also wished that you would pry — likely because he knew that eventually, he would crack.

But you don’t. Because you understand the possibility that he would shut himself away further, retreating back to a place where you might not be able to reach him. “Alright, but if something is bothering you, you know that I am here for you.”

“That’s what … scares me,” Astarion whispers, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the camp’s fire. You turn your head to him, gaze catching his profile, silently waiting for him to continue. “Why do you stay … knowing that what you give isn’t reciprocated?”

His question catches you off guard. Was that what was bothering him? His inability to reciprocate the love that you so easily gave to him? Your heart sinks, eyes softening as you angle yourself to look at Astarion fully. The intensity of your gaze makes him feel as if you’re looking through him — through the flirtatious facade that he had put up constantly and seeing Astarion. Seeing ‘Little Star.’

Your silence worries him; makes him feel as if what he had asked you was wrong. Your lips are pressed into a firm, thin line with your eyes focused so intently on his own. Astarion feels as if you’re analyzing him … judging him. But you’re not, and he knows that you’re not.

“Because I don’t do the things that I do expecting it to be reciprocated,” you answer easily, allowing your lips to turn upward into a soft smile. A smile that begins to melt away the iceberg of worry nestled somewhere in Astarion’s chest. You inhale deeply, holding your hand up with your palm facing Astarion. “Here, if you’re okay with it, I want you to lay your palm against mine.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow, confused. His gaze flickers between your upheld palm and your eyes, which hold no ounce of malice or ill intent. Hesitantly, and very slowly, he lifts his palm. And slowly, very slowly, he brings it towards your own, laying it flat against yours.

Shockingly, the touch doesn’t burn. It doesn’t leave behind a searing scar that he would look at with distaste. Instead, it fills him with a comfortable warmth, one that reinforces the genuine love that you feel for him. The love that extends far beyond physical intimacy, far beyond sex — far beyond anything that Astarion had ever experienced.

“Something as small as this,” you say, not moving your palm from against Astarion’s, “is enough reciprocation for everything.”

He remains silent, watching you. You smile, and as if running on autopilot, he returns it.

#colonelarr0w #astarion acunin x reader #astarion acunin #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 fanfiction #baldur’s gate 3 x reader

[whyse7vn]

FENTANYL -

[ ot7 x reader ] > part one HERE

NEWJEANS

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

hobi: namjoon a bop

jimin: literally 😭

jk: 𝓯𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓷𝔂𝓵 ❤️

namjoon: oh

y/n: pls ignore jungkook he’s going through a phase rn

jin: i think jungkook is a drug addict and we need to talk about it

jk: 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝒶𝒷ℴ𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉

namjoon: what is a bop?

hobi: how he have like 3 different women in one video

jimin: BOP 😭😭

jk: ᵇᵃᵇʸ ⁿᵃᵐʲᵒᵒⁿ

y/n: jungkook

jk: 𝓲 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾 💓

y/n: not right now jungkook

jk: 𝓲’𝓶 𝓼𝓸𝓻𝓻𝔂

y/n: it’s okay

jk: 𝓲 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾

y/n: jungkook

jk: 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭

jin: that’s a literal drug addict right there

namjoon: he’s not a drug addict jin

jin: SAYS THE OTHER DRUG ADDICT

LIKE OMG

joon literally put jungkook onto this life

jk: 𝒾 𝓀𝓃ℴ𝓌 𝒿ℴℴ𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒿𝓊𝓃𝑔𝓀ℴℴ𝓀

y/n: you are jungkook

jk: 𝔂𝓮𝓼 >.<

hobi: i’m worried for him guys

jk: 𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓸 :(

y/n: he is talking about YOU

jk: 𝓭𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴

jin: namjoons influence i’m telling you

namjoon: stop

yoongi: why did jungkook say fentanyl

jk: 𝒹ℴ𝓃𝓉 𝒻ℴ𝓇𝑔ℯ𝓉 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒽ℯ𝒶𝓇𝓉

yoongi: is he doing fentanyl now??

namjoon: no

but doesn’t bop mean good song??

how can i be a good song

that makes no sense

jk: 𝓯𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓷𝔂𝓵 ❤️

tae: hiiii

yoongi: no

tae: guys what is it called when like baby debuts??

hobi: child labour?

jin: newjeans?

hobi: jungkook and y/n core?

namjoon: birth

tae: BIRTH

thats it

guys isn’t birth so beautiful ❤️

jk: 𝓫𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱 𝓲𝓼 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓲 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾

namjoon: ok now can someone now tell me what bop means??!

jimin: i’m going to hurt myself

jk: 𝓳𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓷

𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽

𝓲’𝓶 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮

𝓲 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾

tae: i wish i could experience birth

y/n: ???

hobi: technically we all have

like

we were born

we’ve experienced birth

jk: 𝔀𝓸𝓪𝓱

tae: no

i want to GIVE birth

yoongi: fucking freak

tae: no i’m not

it’s a natural calling a man has at least once in his life

y/n: calling?

jk: ʷʰᵉⁿ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᵐᵉ

tae: don’t worry kook i’ll pass ur number down

yoongi: stop talking

tae: yoongi i’m literally bent over rn

yoongi: ???????

namjoon: please don’t

tae: lets make this baby

y/n: oh

yoongi left “newjeans”

jimin left “newjeans”

hobi left “newjeans”

jin left ”newjeans”

namjoon left “newjeans”

tae: looks like it’s just me and you gorjuice

jk: 𝓱𝓲 𝓫𝓻𝓸 😍

y/n: tae timeout

tae: i JUST got here

y/n added yoongi to “newjeans”

y/n added jimin to “newjeans”

y/n added jin to “newjeans”

y/n added hobi to “newjeans”

y/n added namjoon to “newjeans”

yoongi: why would he say that

jimin: like

hobi: i honestly threw up

jin: still throwing up as i type

namjoon: what the fuck man

tae: dose the calling of birth scare you guys?

namjoon: *does

tae: and you call yourselves feminists….

jk: 𝒾 𝓅ℯ𝓇𝓈ℴ𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝓎𝓈ℯ𝓁𝒻 𝒿𝓊𝓀ℴℴ𝓀

hobi: sighs

jk: 𝒶𝓁𝓈ℴ 𝓉𝒶ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝓌𝒽ℯ𝓃 𝓎ℴ𝓊’𝓇ℯ ℴ𝓃 𝓉𝒾𝓂ℯ ℴ𝓊𝓉

y/n: kook is right tae shut up

tae: 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬😡😡😡😡🤬🤬🤬

jk: 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓭

jimin: the font is pissing me off

yoongi: had to block him on twitter

jk: 𝓎ℴℴ𝓃𝑔𝒾 𝓹𝓵𝓼 𝓊𝓃𝒷𝓁ℴ𝒸𝓀 𝓂ℯ

yoongi: kill yourself

jk: 𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽 𝓶𝓮

hobi: i hope min heejins black magic wins against you

y/n: LMAOSOSK

jk: :(

y/n: sorry

not cool hobi not cool!

namjoon: hoseok please

hobi: i’m speaking for all of us mr bop

jk: 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸𝓷𝓽 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓴 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓶𝓮

namjoon: i don’t even want to know what it means anymore

taking it as a compliment

thank u 👍🏼

jk: 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝒿ℴℴ𝓃 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝒶 𝒸ℴ𝓂𝓅𝓁𝒾𝓂ℯ𝓃𝓉 💀

namjoon: oh

jk: 𝐛𝐨𝐩

jin: it’s kinda crazy that she did that tho

yoongi: who

jimin: min heejin

namjoon: allegedly guys pls remember

jin: low-key wish it took us all out

jk: 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰?

jimin: shut UP

jk: 𝓰𝓾𝔂𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝔀 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝓮

🤫🧏🏼‍♂️

🤫🧏🏼‍♂️

🤫🧏🏼‍♂️

🤫🧏🏼‍♂️

tae: i’m mewing

🤫🧏🏼‍♂️

namjoon: what

jk: 𝓶𝓮𝔀 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓾𝓼 𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷

🤫🧏🏼‍♂️

namjoon: tf is he saying to me

jk: 𝓶𝓮𝔀

tae: 🤫🧏🏼‍♂️

namjoon: what

hobi: this drake and kendrick beef crazy guys

tae: team drake

jk: 𝓴𝓮𝓴𝓮 𝓭𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮

namjoon: what is mew?

jimin: drake son or taehyung daughter

jk: 𝓴𝓮𝓴𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓮𝓻

tae: i pick both

y/n: child neglect

yoongi: suicide

jin: murder

namjoon: mew??

jk: 🤫🧏🏼‍♂️

tae: mewing son 🤫🧏🏼‍♂️

yoongi: actually shut the fuck up

jk: 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓶𝓮𝔀 𝓲𝓷

namjoon: what is mew?

jin: new?

jk: 𝓶𝓮𝔀

tae: 🤫🧏🏼‍♂️

y/n: pls stop

jk: 𝓼𝓸𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓲 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾

tae: i will be posting a cover of gods plan on youtube !!

jimin: i will be covering my ears !!

jk: 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓷

namjoon: mew?

tae: namjoon got gods mew schedule this is crazy

hobi: it’s hard being around unintelligent people all the time

you don’t get this rap beef like i do

jk: 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓯 🤤

jimin: maybe i don’t want to get it

yoongi: couldn’t care less hope they both die

y/n: go kendrick!!!!!!!!

jin: who are we taking about

tae: no i get it like i get no joke hobi i get it drake and kanye go crazy 😭😭💯

hobi: it’s drake and KENDRICK

namjoon: mew the pokémon yes ??

the pink one

this one???

jk: 𝓶𝓮𝔀 𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 🤫🧏🏼‍♂️

y/n: kook please

jk: 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎ℴ𝓊

yoongi: take this fucking font app away from him

jk: 山卄ㄚ ㄚㄖㄖ几Ꮆ丨

jimin: i think this is my fault

namjoon: someone confirm my mew picture

hobi: bop

tae: kendrick a bop

hobi: YOUAREUGLY IHOPE YOU DIE

jk: Boi🐿what🐿da🐿hell🐿boi

y/n: i hate being here

jimin: been giving him a skittles this past week and telling him they were percs lol

namjoon: what

jin: HES ON PERCS ??!!!!

I TOLD YOU

DRUG ADDCIT

DRUG ADDCIT

DRUG ADDCIT

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

SOUND THE SIREN

hobi: by riize

ot7 version i hope

jin: JIMIN AND JUNGKOOK OFF FUCKING PERCS I TOLD YOU

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

jimin: skittles NOT percs

jk: ʲⁱᵐⁱⁿ ᵖˡˢ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ

𝓲 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓭𝓸 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓬𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓱 𝓹𝓵𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝑔𝓊𝓎𝓈 𝓅𝓁𝓈

jimin: i’m telling you it was a skittle not a perc

jk: 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽

jimin: jungkook you are not a crippling perc addict you have just been eating skittles

jk: 𝔀𝓸𝓪𝓱

jin: oh..

jk: ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

|(• ◡•)|| (• ◡•)|| (• ◡•)|| (• ◡•)|| (• ◡•)|| (• ◡•)|| (• ◡•)|| (• ◡•)|| (• ◡•)|| (• ◡•)|| (• ◡•)|| (• ◡•)|| (• ◡•) |٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و٩(ᐛ)و＼(٥⁀▽⁀ )／＼(٥⁀▽⁀ )／＼(٥＼(٥⁀▽⁀ )／＼(٥⁀▽⁀ )／＼(٥⁀▽⁀ )／

\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

^^ 𝓂ℯ 𝒸𝓊𝓏 𝒾 𝒹ℴ𝓃𝓉 𝒹ℴ 𝓅ℯ𝓇𝒸𝓈

yoongi: finding out you don’t actually take percs and are acting like this just because is more concerning actually

y/n: ur concerned yoongi??

yoongi: no

y/n: ur so cute

tae: I AM ALSO CONCERNED

@JUNGKOOK ARE YOU OK?!

jk: 𝓎ℯ𝓈 𝒾 𝒹ℴ𝓃𝓉 𝒹ℴ 𝓅ℯ𝓇𝒸𝓈

namjoon: are we talking about the “mew” noise animals make btw?

hobi: someone tell this bop to shut the hell up

tae: mewing on this hoe ong 😭🤫🧏🏼‍♂️

y/n: shoot me

jk:

|￣￣￣￣￣￣￣|

|⠀⠀ℳ𝒪𝒢𝒢ℰ𝒟⠀⠀|

|＿＿＿＿＿＿＿|

(\__/) ||

(•ㅅ•) ||

/ 　 づ

namjoon: mogged??

jimin: looksmaxxing

namjoon: what

y/n: namjoon pls give up

namjoon: yeah okay

jk: 𝒹ℴ𝓃𝓉 𝑔𝒾𝓋ℯ 𝓊𝓅

𝒻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓃𝒶𝓃𝒿ℴℴ𝓃𝓈𝓈𝒾

yoongi: give up.

jin: namjoon why were you a baby in your music video?

jk: ᵇᵃᵇʸ ⁿᵃᵐʲᵒᵒᵐ

y/n: age regression

hobi: you into that??

y/n: no wtf ???

hobi: oh my fault

me neither lol

tae: let’s all age regress

jk: 𝑔ℴℴ𝑔ℴℴ 𝑔𝒶𝑔𝒶 🍼😭🤰🤰👶

yoongi: ur so gross

jin: so namjoom can you like answer my question

namjoon: basically

jimin: he was reliving his days of youth

i know the concept of youth maybe so far out of reach for you jin that you can’t even IMAGINE what the hell i’m even talking about but yeah

reliving youth ❤️❤️

jin: kill yourself.

namjoon: no but close

jin: you too

namjoon: oh!

jk:

✅✅✅✅✅✅✅

✅✅✅✅✅✅✅

✅ 𝗩𝗜𝗕𝗘 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗖𝗞 ✅

✅✅✅✅✅✅✅

✅✅✅✅✅✅✅

y/n: suicide vibes

hobi: suicide squad

jk: 𝚠𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

yoongi: im gonna smash his phone i think

tae: why do you think yoongi

why don’t you know

jk: 𝓌𝒽𝓎 𝒹ℴ𝓃𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓀𝓃ℴ𝓌 ����ℴℴ𝓃𝑔𝒾

tae: brotha doesn’t know a thing ohmygod 💀💀

jk: 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝓁𝓊ℯ𝓁ℯ𝓈𝓈 𝒶𝓈 𝒽ℯ𝓁𝓁 😂💀

hobi: this fucking font

jk: 𝒹ℴ𝓃𝓉 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒻ℴ𝓃𝓉

y/n: what is going on today

like why has everyone lost their minds

jk: 𝒾𝓂 𝒻ℴ𝓊𝓃𝒹

yoongi: find a therapist

jimin: or a building to jump off lol

namjoon: don’t do that jungkook

please

jin: joon begging like a bitch what’s new

tae: it’s the age regression in him

yoongi: that makes no sense

jimin: maybe yoongi needs to age regress always so tense let loose

yoongi: don’t enable his ideas

tae: age regress with us yoongi

jk: 𝓌𝒶𝒶𝒶𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝒶𝒶 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

yoongi: this is like extremely strange i hope you know that

jk: 𝓌𝒶？🍼👶

yoongi: y/n

y/n: guys

jk: i’m sorry please forgive me

i’m sorry please forgive me

y/n

hi do you forgive me

lmk of you forgive me or not

i’m sorry

do you forgive me

i know i did wrong do you forgive me yes or no

not my song btw

btw i’m not referencing my song

i’m asking you yes or no if you forgive me or not

NOT referring to my song titled yes or no

omg sorry for shouting i didn’t mean to shout i’m sorry

i hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me….

do you?

jimin: do you want to kys?

perhaps??

hobi: maybe

jin: possibly

yoongi: please

—

scrap want to bash my head against the wall sorry better things soon i hope

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @blairebangtan @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @k4ngelz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @elissasimp @socksfirstalways @knjlvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks @futuristicenemychaos

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