#but actually its not like your not allowed to request me to draw something

[pasharuu]

both of us already know who it is

fish stealing incident

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanart #hsr #hsr fanart #hsr stelle #stelle #hsr march 7th #march 7th #hsr dan heng #dan heng #this one appeared before i opened the commissions and i couldnt just miss the opportunity- #but actually its not like your not allowed to request me to draw something #the thing is just i may not do your request lol #but a tiny mini reminder yuh anyway #its 7 am btw i literally spent whole night on this so dont be fooled by how simple it looks >:(

[lovelyney]

────𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐒────

IN WHICH: You accidentally whack Wriothesley in the nose during a training session and feel bad !!

PAIRINGS: Wriothesley x (GN!) Reader

SCENT: fluff but gets kind of nsfw towards the end ??

WARNINGS: uh wrio makes a comment implying masturbation towards the end? that and you guys just makeout, lol.

FLORIST’S NOTE: Reader is a mix between Wrio’s and Sigewinne’s assistant !! Also happy belated new years, blossoms !!

SONG: Bang! Bang! (K,NAAN & Adam Levine)

───────────2023 !! #©LOVELYNEY

WRIOTHESLEY LAUGHS as you drag him through the Fortress of Meropide, drawing the attention of those around you. Though typically, you’d feel uncomfortable, embarrassed, or perhaps self-conscious under the scrutinizing gaze of others, this time, it’s different. Your attention is focused solely on Wriothesley as he holds his free hand up to his bloodied nose. Knowing Wriothesley and his job here, it’s easy to imagine it resulting from a scuffle with a particularly stubborn criminal or something along those lines. However, the truth cannot be farther from that. In actuality, you’re the one responsible for this bloody nose. . . Allow me to expand on the situation a little.

Around a week or so ago, he unexpectedly marched into your office and insisted you learn how to fight. His motives for the sudden declaration were not out of a lack of appreciation for your work at the Fortress but rather a desire for your protection while he’s away. On another note, he believes you’re too “reserved and gentle” with others—“too much like a frightened kitten rather than a fearsome lion,” as he blatantly put it. It was a comparison you found somewhat degrading, yet you couldn’t deny it did speak the truth of your nature. In the end, you decided to comply with his wishes, and from there on out, he started to teach you self-defense and train you.

Cut to the present: Wriothesley pulled you aside for your daily training session. Everything was going swimmingly at first, with you defending yourself from his attacks as usual. Then, amid it all, you accidentally hit him square in the nose and rather hard at that. The punch was neither intentional nor malicious, but it still managed to send him stumbling back and clutching his nose in pain. A tsunami of guilt and worry flooded your system as you frantically apologized to him, but he simply brushed it off and smiled. The look in his eyes was one of mild shock but also of something more. . . fond. He seemed amused rather than angry or annoyed, appearing to be impressed and even a little smitten.

Sigewinne enters the infirmary with the medical supplies you requested, stopping just inside the door to ask you a question. She furrows her brow in concern, noticing the panic in your expression. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of him, Mx. (Y/N)? You’re a bit pale. . . Maybe you should sit and rest for a little while,” she offers kindly.

Wriothesley observes you with a lovesick expression as you prepare a cotton swab, your tongue poking out between your lips from concentration. His heart singes when you take his hand that’s pressed to his nose and lay it gently on his lap; your skin is warm and soft compared to his, scarred and calloused, from his duties here at the Fortress.

When you assure her with that enchanting smile of yours—the same one that drives him wild—it feels like his entire body has been set on fire, and he’s certain you can feel that fire when you press your palm to his cheek to keep him still. “D—Don’t worry, Sigewinne. I’ll be alright. Thank you, though.” You answer calmly, despite your hold on him being slightly shaky.

With a brief nod of her head, Sigewinne slips out of the room, leaving you and Wriothesley alone. As you press the cotton swab to his nose, he lets out a sharp hissing sound as the disinfectant works its magic. “Ouch! Shit, maybe I didn’t give you enough credit. That was a hell of a punch. . .” he chortles, trying to lighten up your mood a little. But his amusement falters when you pout, your face a heartbreakingly adorable sight.

“I—I really am sorry, Your Grace! I didn’t expect to hit you so hard. . . In—In fact, I thought you’d move out of the way before I even got the chance too,” you lament and carefully tilt his chin up, making sure you cleaned all the blood off. “How badly does it hurt? Do—Do you want me to go get some painkillers or ice? Please, just—”

“Breathe, (Y/N).” Wriothesley’s tone is soothing as he speaks, seeming intent on consoling you. “I’m perfectly fine, sweetheart. I’ve dealt with far worse scuffs than this. So, please, don’t think for a second I’m mad at you or anything of that nature. I’m more proud than anything, really.” He adds, melting under the warmth and care of your gaze. He finds himself feeling a little selfish in this moment, wishing you’d always spend so much time doting on him. You’re always so engrossed in your work, and as much as he admires that side of you, he’s also become increasingly smitten with you without you even batting an eye. Your self-absorbed disposition has made you oblivious to his adoring eyes, and he can’t help but feel a mix of heartbreak and longing as he considers how blind you are to his affections. “Hm. . . Now that we’re alone, there is something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while,” he admits, humming contentedly as your hand presses to his face once more, oblivious to the surge of adrenaline that shoots through his veins with every touch. Your affectionate actions result from your nurturing demeanor, but he begs silently for them to mean something more.

Your puzzled expression, bearing a resemblance to a confused puppy, only further softens the gentle smile on Wriothesley’s face. “Is that so? Is—is there a reason you’re only bringing it up now?” You inquire anxiously, teeth sinking into your lower lip. You hope that your unexpected punch wasn’t the last straw for him firing you or something like that. The worry in your voice and tension in your body language betray your deep concern, and Wriothesley finds himself smitten by your innocence and tenderness.

The duke pauses momentarily, seeming to mull something over in his mind. “It’s been harder to get you alone these days, with you always engrossed in your paperwork or helping Sigewinne. I can’t bring myself to tear you away when you’re always so faithful.” He acknowledges. His eyes linger over your lips for just a moment too long, his imagination taking over as he considers the softness of them and how they taste. His heart pounds against his ribcage as he holds back the urge to kiss those teeth away and murmur how he’s the only one allowed to ruin your lips.

You mutter the words, “My apologies, your Grace,” as you press the bandage to the bridge of his nose. Taking a step back, you freeze under the intensity of his gaze. “Well, you have my full, unrivaled attention as of r-right now...?” You try to sound confident, but your sheepish expression gives you away.

Wriothesley hums in response, amused and enticed by the sudden color that washes over your face. Clearing his throat, he slips one hand around your waist and pulls you flush against his warm frame. His eyes flutter shut for a brief moment as he allows the intensity of the moment to sink in. “Oh? Do I now? Good,” he purrs, his voice deep and velvety as it echoes in your ears—sending vibrations throughout your core. You shudder when the smooth of his fingers glide over the exposed skin on your waist, and he almost finds it a little sadistic with how much he’s enjoying you squirm when he hasn’t even done anything.

Your breathing becomes a touch erratic as you feel the lingering touch of his hand against your waist. You attempt to mask your growing excitement, skin prickling with electricity. Despite your best efforts, there’s a faint quiver in your words that you can only hope he doesn’t notice. “G—Go on. . .”

Sadly, nothing gets past Wriothesley’s gaze, and he’s able to take note of your trembling voice and hands; he isn’t the duke for nothing, after all. He can’t help but feel the boost to his ego when he realizes he has a tight grip over you at this moment. With a swift tug, you’re suddenly pushed against his broad chest, eyes blown wide. He chuckles as you choke over your words, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip. “You know, (princess/prince). . . I can’t tell if you’re just dense or trying to prove something to yourself.” The raven-haired male teases. “I’ve been smitten with you for weeks now, you know,” he presses, eyes trained on your expression to read any changes. “I can’t help but wonder if you’re as aware as your actions suggest—or if you have been merely feigning ignorance. Please, explain yourself.”

Your breath catches in your throat as the magnitude of Wriothesley’s words settles in; he’s so direct and brazen with his declaration that it sucks all the breath out of your lungs. Your mind races as you grapple with the sudden realization that he is just as enamored with you as you are with him. Your expression must speak louder than words because as you open your lips to speak, Wriothesley closes the distance—slotting his mouth on yours.

It sends all your senses reeling like they’ve been drenched in ice water after burning for too long. Like a balm and a spark, it’s both a soothing salve and a blazing inferno, comforting and ravaging you in equal measure. All the tension of your attraction has suddenly become a physical manifestation, the culmination of all the unspoken words and feelings that have gone unsaid for too long.

Wriothesley pulls himself even closer to you, his passion only intensifying the longer the kiss carries on. The feeling of his body pressing against yours ignites a primal urge within you, driving the kisses to become more intense. His hands slide further down the bare flesh of your back, tracing your waist in a possessive claim to your body. His tongue dives underneath your bottom lip; it probes between them, trying to gain access to the interior of your mouth.

A noise akin to a muffled whimper escapes your throat as his tongue pushes into your mouth with a feverish, nearly desperate need. The intensity of the sensation is overwhelming, and you feel yourself shudder with a sense of raw desire as his hand slides down from your hip to your thigh, his fingers squeezing and digging into the soft flesh. His touch is both tender and possessive, sending your nerves reeling.

When his fingers climb closer up your thighs, you plant your hands on his face and gently push his head away, his mouth chasing after yours instantaneously. You sigh softly, your face flushed scarlet from the heat of the situation. “Wriothesley. . . We are still in your office. Anyone can walk in at any time.” You chuckle, swiping the saliva from his bottom lip.

His body hums with contentment at the breathless sound of his name coming from your lips. He lets out a displeased huff as he nestles his nose in the crook of your neck, sharply inhaling your scent and drowning himself in the warmth of your body. He absentmindedly starts nipping at your skin, “And? I’ve had enough nights getting off—”

“O—Okayokay! As an. . . apology for keeping you waiting, how about after work, we fulfill those fantasies of yours?” You chuckle nervously and thread your fingers through his hair, smiling when he leans his entire body onto you. “Don’t think I didn’t see the way some of the inmates looked at me when I dragged you in here. . . I don’t think I could recover if they walked in and found out they guessed right.”

Wriothesley’s laughter is like a deep, thunderous rumble that soon after swarms your stomach with butterflies. His kisses pepper your face in response, the sweet scent of your skin filling him with a sense of contentment. He pulls away and smiles down at you, the heat and adoration in his eyes impossible to miss. “After work, then,” he repeats and holds up his pinky, signaling you to do the same. Rolling your eyes, you indulge him and hook your pinky to his—a cutesy gesture veiled in a not-so-innocent promise. 

#꒱₊˚ fawn’s flowers #꒱₊˚ lumindounce bells #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley fluff #genshin fluff

[writa-anon]

"is that.. supposed to be me?"

francis mosses (the milkman) x artist!reader

a / n ~ boom! first fanfic :3 i was a little inspired by uh.. myself LOL when i started playing tnmn i realized i was horrible at memorizing faces so i started drawing the characters to help me remember and it works sooo much. but anyway, super cute oneshot where they first meet, hope u enjoy :D

content included ~ isaack mauss, francis mosses, reader is an artist and doorman, no pronouns mentioned for reader, use of (y/n), shy n wholesome first encounter

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 4.10.24 | 1.6k words

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Another slow day at work, huh?”

A enthusiatic-ridden voice boomed, instinctively making me look up to meet the gaze of a strong-jawlined man. I cleared my throat and placed my pencil on the scratchy sheet of paper, sitting up in my chair.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gauss.” I greeted, grinning that customer-service smile.

“Good afternoon, (y/n). I assume work is treating you well?” He said before sliding both his ID and request form through the letter hole. “Only your third day and you’re occupying yourself with side hobbies!” He exclaimed, squinting a little to see my doodle through the glass screen. I chuckled a little as I examined his ID.

“Eh, yeah..” I sighed. “But this actually helps with my job, believe it or not!” I said proudly, pulling out the floor 2 folder to compare his ID number. “I’ve been drawing neighbors in order to remember their features better. It’s especially helpful because of my terrible memory.” I said, shaking my head. Isaack simply chuckled as I placed the folder to the side as I went through his request form.

“That’s pretty smart.” He commented. “Who have you drawn so far?” He asked, curiously tilting his head. As I went through the checklist as I idly thought to myself.

“Umm..” I hummed. “The Schmitts and the Mikaelys are definitely in here.” I finished up the last check before rolling back to my sketchbook, using my finger to thumb through the pages.

“Unfortunate. I haven’t been drawn yet.” He faked pouted. I rolled my eyes before flipping one or two pages before presenting the portrait to him.

“I’m not necessarily finish. Your face is pretty hard to encapture.” I sighed, looking at the smears of led blended together. Isaack was something of a character: a big prominent smile that is not hard to catch a glimpse of in a room full of people. His hair perfectly styled each morning that still manages to maintain its shape by the end of the day. His voice had depth to it, almost like he was born to be the daily news reporter for radios and TVs of all kind. He stared at the drawing in satisfied awe before leaning back.

“Wow, it surely is accurate!” He beamed. I smiled proudly before placing my sketchbook down.

“Thank you,” I politely nodded. I slid his ID back through the letter box. “Everything seems to be good to go. You’re allowed in, Mr. Gauss.” He nodded in his head in gratitude, but however, did not my window just yet. He took a minute to ponder, as if contemplating his next move, before beaming his teeth once again.

“Ah, before I go,” he quickly inputed. “is there by chance Francis Mosses is on today’s list? He’s the local milkman around here.”

I raised my eyebrow a little, not exactly sure as to why Isaack chose to bring up this person’s name. I shook my head gently before folding my arms in front of me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gauss, but I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information for you.”

“—Ah, of course.” Isaack quickly fixed himself, putting his hands up a little in defense. “I understand. I was just curious is all. I’m sure you know him though, no?” Thinking for a minute, I’ve realized that this is a neighbor I have not encountered yet.

“No, actually..” I pondered out loud. “Huh, that’s interesting. I guess he works a morning or night shift because the name doesn’t really ring a bell.” I noted out loud.

“Interesting.” He muttered. “Well, keep the name in mind. He’s a rather interesting person, and I think you would find him just as interesting.” Before I could say anything else, he gestured a quick wink before walking through the unlocked door. I quickly snapped out my thoughts before locking the door back up again.

Isaack never really mentioned other names— it wasn’t necessarily out of character, but it felt a little outlandish. I looked down to see my pencil in hand again and blank surface of paper. My eyes trailed over to the paper taped on to the wall next to my window, realizing that Frances was in fact on today’s check-in list. Out of curiousity, I located his room number before surfing through the folders. After locating folder 3 and apartment 02, I was able to find more about him.

He was a slim, tall man with a crooked nose and ruffled brown hair. His eye bags were prominent from what I assume to be lack of sleep. As I stared at his picture, my hand moved by itself across my sketchbook, forming a circle to start defining out the headshape. I squinted slightly, trying to feel for each detail in his face. From the way his eyebrows were rotated a little outward, defining more of his tired expression, to the bump in his nose bridge, making it a bit more interesting to draw. It was mesmerizing, almost wishing I could sit here and draw his face in perso—

tap, tap!

I nearly jumped out of my seat. The pencil flung out of my hand, rolling off of the desk. My eyes flickered up—

and there he was.

My breath near caught in my throat as I stared up in shock. The man behind the glass was barely shocked to see my reaction. His white “milkman” hat rested perfectly on top of his brown hair with small curls slightly peaking out. I was swift to regain my composure in my head as I folded my hands in front of me with my legs crossed under the desk.

“Good afternoon, sir.” I smiled. “I haven’t seen you before. ID and entry request?”

He let out a small hum, barricaded by his pink lips, as he took out his paper and ID. He politely slid them through the letter slot before I took the items to examine.

“Mr. Francis Mosses.. Lives on floor 03.. Room 02.. Coming from work as a milkman.” I glanced up to look at him, comparing the photo ID to his face. His expression was exactly alike: tired eyes, slight frown on the lips, crooked nose, and a clean shaven face. I double checked with his file already on my desk, making sure that the ID numbers and the description aligned with his ID. “Everything looks good.” I confirmed as I slid his ID back to him.

“Mmm.. Thank you.” He hummed. I turned around to place his request form in a folder, but once I sat back up, I realized he was still standing at the window, curiously staring through the glass. I raised my eyebrow a little, confused as to why he was still lingering.

“I’m sorry, did I forget something?” I asked. Francis shook his head before pointing down at my desk.

“Is that.. Supposed to be me?” He asked. A tiny bit of emotion seeped into his voice, dripping in interest and curiousity.

“I— oh—” I looked down to see the rough drawing of Francis sitting at my desk, drawn with sketch lines still lightly defining his features, while the harder drawn areas sculpted his prominent details. “Yeah..” I mumbled. “I-I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable!” I exclaimed. “It’s just a way to help me remember faces and I was going through the files and I realized I haven’t met you before so I—”

“You make me look so pretty.” He mumbled, almost breathlessly. A faint pink color brushed his cheeks as he was unable to take his gaze away from the paper.

“W-Well.. I do aim for accuracy.” I chuckled, complimenting the man right back. My nerves had calmed down after noticing his calm demeanor. “You could keep it, if you’d like that is.” I offered. It would be awkward if I kept the drawing rather than give it to him— I mean— this is his first time ever seeing me and it was an awkward first interaction right off the bat. It was the least I could do for him. Francis nodded his head and in response, I tore the piece of paper out of the scrapbook before sliding it through the letter slot.

“There you go.” I smiled.

“Thank you..” He replied, graciously taking the piece of paper and admiring it once again. “Oh— um,” He quickly looked up to me. “What is your name? I’m sorry, I’m not really good with.. Introductions.” He trailed off, but something about his shyness and reluctant voice made me grin even harder.

“My name is (y/n). I’m the doorman in training for this building.” I greeted.

“Ah, of course. I’m Francis— Mmm..Though you already know that.” He said, shaking his head a little by the end of his sentence.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Francis. I’ll be seeing you around, I assume?” I said, sitting at the edge of my chair as I looked up at him.

“More often than before.” He smiled. It was the widest he’d grin throughout our whole conversation. Something inside me told me that he doesn’t pass around smiles like that easily. It made me feel accomplished in some sort of way. But with that, he departed from my window. I made sure to unlock the door and listen for the door closing behind him before locking it again.

Francis Mosses.

I think I have someone to look forward to on tomorrow’s entry list.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

really hoped you enjoyed! replies, reblogs, and even likes are super appreciated! thank you so much for reading :]

#thats not my neighbour milkman #thats not my neighbor #milkman #tnmn #tnmn milkman #francis mosses x you #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses #isaack gauss #oneshot #fanfiction #milkman x reader

[allysunny]

Heartwired Love

Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Engineer!Reader

Synopsys: When Bruce surprises Lucius with a visit to his department, he wasn't expecting to find a beautiful woman there. He asks about her and that's how he discovers she's not only pretty, but extremely talented, an engineer who's been working under him for years. He's immediately mesmerised.

Words: 6.1k words

Warnings: Not much, I'd say? There's a lot of fluff, and a lot of funny moments, and like, one suggestive moment? One twinge of angst, but it lasts like two minutes. Maybe some inaccuracies about engineering? I really don't know much about it so I kinda went with my gut and holy fuck I hope I don't get it wrong or upset / offend anyone.

A/N: Hey everyone!!! So, this is a funny story, because a while ago I got an ask. And I thought I was writing that ask, but turns out I got everything mixed up, and this is not really what my sweet anon requested of me. So, while I work on that piece, have what I ended up writing! I think it's rather fun. I'm sorry to my anon, I'll get started on their request right away!

I hope y'all enjoy this!!! <3

You were brilliant. 

In fact, if there was a word for anyone better than brilliant, that’d be you.

Bruce first saw you when he visited the Applied Sciences Department. He was quite sure Lucius was the only one who actually did any of the important work there, but boy was he wrong. 

He was just visiting the floor to ask Lucius for some help (his suit needed improvements), when he spotted you under a flurry of blueprints and reports. There was a pencil on top of your ear, and you were nibbling on another one as you erased something on the paper in front of you. 

“And who might this be?” He asked no one in particular, eyes trailing the way your eyebrows furrowed as you wrote and sketched away. 

You told him your last name, not even daring to look up. You were far too busy - a new particle reactor was being built, and it had fallen upon you to build its security system, something that’d keep the machine should it fall on the wrong hands. Bruce leaned over and looked at your sketches, observing the careless handwriting and the doodles and the little comments you had on top of each calculation. “Not good”, “doesn’t work”, “tested and failed”. 

“And how long have you been working for me?” He inquired once again, still looking over your blueprints. Your calculations were good - far too good. Where the hell had Lucius found you? 

“Lucius,” you mumbled, removing the pencil from behind your ear and drawing a big cross on top of whatever you were writing. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I work for Lucius, not you,” you said, not even bothering to look up. 

“Lucius works for me, though.”

“And I work for him.” Finally, you looked up, and what you saw did not surprise you. You knew Bruce Wayne’s voice, after all, Lucius did work for him, and you’d overheard them talking once or twice. You looked up to him immensely - he was an insanely smart man, you knew what he had achieved in your department (or at least you knew he had something to do with it), and you wanted to cause a good impression. It also did not help that he was extremely attractive, and you were afraid your body would betray you and give you away. It was nothing, really, just a small little crush. It was harmless, really, and you’d rather be noticed for your work, than anything else. You wanted him to see how smart you were, not notice just how much you admired him. 

“Are these for the particle reactor?” Bruce asked, leaning against your desk, hoping to hold eye contact with you for a little longer. He liked that look on you, that focused gaze of yours. It reminded him of himself. 

You nodded and shook your head with a sigh. 

“I’m working on the security system. But so far, it’s been a bust. I can’t find any combinations that allow Wayne Enterprises full access to the system. Full and only. I'm trying to come up with an algorithm that’ll prevent third parties from accessing whatever services the reactor might have, but it’s tough.” Bruce nodded. 

“How long have you been at it?” 

“Two weeks, give or take. I managed to write a short thing for the opening sequence, but that’s about it. I still have to come up with the rest, and it’s killing me.” You leaned backwards in your chair and stretched, letting out a groan. “And my back hurts like a bitch.” 

Bruce chuckled ever so slightly - he wasn't used to this kind of honesty and openness right off the bat. He supposed anyone who worked under Lucius’s supervision would be just like him, honest and truthful. 

“How about you take a break?” He crossed his arms, tilting his head. You looked away - was that the famous Wayne Charm he put on every time you watched him on television? You weren't going to be fooled. You didn't want to be just a number on his list. You admired this man far too much to get your heart broken by him - not to mention your job at Wayne Enterprises was a dream, and you did not want to risk that. Did all of that even make sense?

“Mr. Wayne, I don’t think I can afford the luxury of taking breaks,” you chuckled, turning back to your blueprints. 

“And if it’s an order?” 

“You wouldn't do that. You have far better things to do than order some random nobody to take a break.” 

“You don’t seem like a nobody to me.” 

“Up until today you didn't even know who I was, and I've been working for you for about two years.” 

“For me.” “Huh?”

“You said you were working for me.” 

“Under Lucius.” 

“Same difference.” 

You chuckled at his smugness and let your eyes return to his handsome face. The magazines did not lie - he was even better-looking in person. Sharp jawline, chocolate-brown eyes, he was an absolute dream, and he probably knew it too. Which is why it felt wrong to be laughing along with him. You didn't want to taint the image of Bruce Wayne you had in your head. He seemed like an airhead in public, but you knew just how much he did and contributed to your department - not every airhead can do that. The little crush you’d allowed yourself to develop should remain just that - a crush. People say never to meet your heroes - well, you didn't want to date them either. You thought it would end just as badly. 

“Looking at security algorithms all day isn't going to make you come up with them faster. Take a break. I know a nice coffee place not far from here, I'm sure it’d help. And after that, if you want to, you can come back here, drown in blueprints, and never be disturbed again.” 

You eyed him curiously, raising an eyebrow. 

“Why?”

“Because you look like you’re a sketch away from having a mental breakdown, and despite what everyone says, I do care about my employees’ health.” 

You weighed your options. 

You could either get coffee with your super hot, super intelligent, super incredible boss, maybe talk to him a bit about your work and prove that you’re an amazing employee, or - 

Yeah, it’s not really a hard choice, is it. 

That's how you got yourself seated across from Bruce Fucking Wayne, yapping away about your ideas and projects. And surprisingly, he drank up every single word. 

As cliché as it might sound, the rest was history. 

Bruce took a liking to you almost instantly. You were so smart, so full of ideas and so innovative. It also helped that you were strikingly beautiful, and that he felt himself drawn to you every time you were near. 

You allowed yourself to fall for Bruce. Slowly, but you did. Only after he proved to you that he was a good person, that he was nothing like the man people saw on TV and gossip magazines. He was more, much more than that. He was extremely intelligent, being an incredible match for whenever you wanted to discuss any new technological advances, and a very good conversation partner. It helped you two had a shared interest in applied sciences - soon, spending time together also doubled down as him giving you a hand with your projects, and you with him. 

It was a win-win situation. You enjoyed spending time with him, he enjoyed spending time with you. You liked doing a good job, he liked helping you. It was perfect. 

And it wasn't just about work, of course, you just liked being with him, in his presence. He was comforting and so very funny, and your heart could about burst with joy whenever he was near. 

You had that same effect on him as well. During company dinners, he started paying attention to you more and more, dragging you away to dark corridors and telling you jokes and anecdotes about other workers and people he disliked. He'd place his hand on your lower back and bring you close so you could hide your face in his chest and giggle into it. It felt natural to be in his arms, like nothing had changed and nothing ever would. 

About three or four months after you began talking and hanging out, he officially asked you to be his girlfriend. 

You knew it was a big deal - normal people could date and fool around all they wanted, but not Bruce Wayne. So when he took your hand and looked into your eyes, you knew it was serious. 

It had been a lovely evening. A dinner at some nice restaurant you’d always wanted to try but could not afford, a stroll in the park, and his sweet confession under the bright lights of Gotham. It was perfect, and you’d kissed him and thus sealed your romance. 

Work became easy to manage after that. You could often be found at Lucius's department, and were often buried with a thousand different projects, so you really didn't have the time to miss Bruce. It's not like you didn't miss him as a whole - simply that you knew the both of you had business to tend to, and the quicker you got it done with, the quicker you could meet up after.

But that’s not to say you didn't spend time together at work. Bruce visited you on your lunch breaks more than often, the two of you pressed against each other as you spoke and ate your respective meals. There was nothing Bruce wanted more than to bring you to his office and spend time with you there, but it was risky. No one knew you were dating, and it could mean trouble for your department and his company. You didn't mind it - your space felt like home, and having Bruce there just added to its charm. Besides, you felt like some sort of character from a movie, hiding your secret relationship with your boss from the entire world. Well, not the entire world. Lucius found the both of you quite often, shooting you Bruce a wink, and you a knowing smile, and telling his boss about how “real smiles look good on him” and how he should smile them more often. 

Speaking of home, you got to meet his. Bruce took you to his Manor a few days after you’d started dating. He wanted you to be around his place more often. Being Batman was lonely - being Bruce Wayne was even worse. He had to go home to an empty Manor pretty much every day, with only Alfred for company. And no offense to the older man, he had taken care of Bruce his whole life and he was extremely grateful for that. But the Wayne heir did not exactly want to come home to his butler sleeping on his bed, clad only in one of his shirts. It was a vision he never wanted to have. 

Instead, he gave you a set of keys and told you to make yourself at home. If you didn't know just how serious he was about the two of you, you wouldn't have accepted them. And it’s not like you’d be moving in right away - the keys were simply so you could come in and out as you pleased, spend some time with him, spend the night if you wanted to. 

He had rules, which you understood. No going in the piano room - that was his father’s old study and he did not want anyone in there. It seemed inviting, and the books on the shelves tempted you, but you did not want to break Bruce’s trust and never entered it. 

You made friends with Alfred rather quickly. You found the way to his heart was fixing the coffee machine he so loved and refused to replace. 

“Miss, with all due respect, do you know what you’re doing?” He’d asked in that low British voice of his, somewhat worried. 

“I promise you, it’ll be good as new.”

To your credit, it was. You'd fixed it after a few minutes, and Alfred marveled as the machine he’d tried to have fixed about seven times the past month worked flawlessly before him. When Bruce got home that day, the butler turned to him with a proud nod and declared you were the one for him. 

Bruce thought so too. 

That’s why he began planning how the hell he was going to break up with you before things got too serious. 

He knew he liked you - that much was obvious. He liked you very much. He liked you, and your personality, and your voice when you chastised him but also when you praised him and told him you loved him, loved your sarcastic sense of humour, loved the way you made his heart leap out of his chest with a simple smile. He thought of all the reasons that made him like you so much, and they only reminded him of why you couldn't be together. He couldn't have you in his life - not when he had a double identity, when he kept a secret as big as life itself. He couldn't drag you into his mess of a life. 

Which is why breaking up hurt him a thousand times more than it did you. 

He sat you down in his living room and spewed some bullshit about not being able to give you the future you wanted, something about not being a good person and you deserving better. He wasn't very clear, kept it short and concise, and confined himself to his bedroom after it was done so you wouldn't see him cry.

It broke your heart to say the least. You'd come to know this man and learned to love him so deeply, and to have all that happiness taken away from you was devastating. You wanted to follow him to his bedroom, ask why the hell he was doing that to you when you loved each other so much, when you were sure your love was stronger than any force in the world. 

But something inside you made you hesitate in front of his father’s study. You were told to never enter that room, but right now, all you wanted to do was go against each and every one of Bruce’s rules. You wanted to love him, to be with him, to go inside the stupid room and play the piano he told you never to touch. 

You walked inside, marveled at how pretty everything was, how right. Everything was in its right place, and the room seemed like a very soothing room to be in. You imagined yourself, sitting by the window, book in hand as you sipped your coffee. You could get used to that. 

Bruce clearly had no idea what you were up to, because if he did, he wouldn't have let you wander around the room, looking through bookshelves to find out what kind of reading his father did, and finding a weird contraption that seemed far too odd to belong to a bookshelf. That sort of mechanism belonged in doors, in gateways, in entrances - more specifically, to the kind of hidden doors Lucius’s office had. 

Bruce clearly had no idea what you were up to, because if he did, he would've found you as you figured out how the hell to open that mysterious door that posed as a bookshelf, and would've stopped you before you could enter the elevator inside. 

Perhaps he shouldn't have let an engineer and a technology prodigy alone in his most forbidden room. 

Bruce clearly, most assuredly had no idea what you were up to, because if he did, he wouldn't have let you wander around his cave, eyes wide in surprise and amazement. You looked around, wondering why the fuck your boyfriend had a whole ass dungeon to yourself. So you got busy. And it didn't take much for you to understand exactly just what the fuck was happening there. 

You looked through the blueprints, through the prototypes, through the endless stashes of papers. You eyed every sketch for gloves and utility belts, and confusion clouded your brain until your eyes laid on top of a cowl. A very familiar one.

Holy shit. 

Your boyfriend is Batman. 

And then suddenly, everything clicked into place. 

The weird schedules, the missed dates, the exhaustion, the odd bruises you managed to get glimpses of. 

The breakup. 

It all made sense now. 

And when Alfred confronted you a few minutes later, having found the secret entrance to the cave open and having quickly followed inside, you frowned and asked out loud why Bruce had hidden such a thing from you. 

“I think that is something you should discuss with Master Wayne himself,” was what he’d told you, and you were quick to cradle the cowl next to you and run back upstairs. 

You knocked on Bruce’s bedroom door incessantly, and for a while you thought he had gone out or abandoned you for good, but after an assertive “I know who you are”, he opened the door at the speed of light, eyes widening once he took note of the cowl tucked under your elbow.

It was an extremely awkward conversation - for him, that is. 

While half of you was freaking out because your boyfriend (you refused to call him your ex. You were not breaking up with Bruce Wayne.) was the fucking Batman and he’d never told you, but the other half told you that everything wasn't always what it seemed, and that you should let him explain himself. 

He did, very awkwardly. He wasn't expecting you to find out - not at all. So, this whole “you-found-out-i’m-a-masked-vigilante-after-i-broke-up-with-you” atmosphere was one he was simply not used to. And he hated it! He’d just told you a bunch of bullshit about the two of you not being able to be together - somewhat true - and he’d tried to erase you from his mind. And now you were sitting in front of him while he tried to explain everything to you. 

It took a while to settle in, but once it did, it was easy to understand why he did what he did. He told you how afraid he was to lose you, should any of the criminals he fought against get a hold of any personal information on him. He told you about how it was already hard enough to trust Alfred, the man that had raised him his entire life, the man he saw as a father figure, too afraid something would happen to him. The more you knew about his double-life, the more it’d put you at risk. 

Still…

You grabbed a nearby pillow and hit your boyfriend on the head repeatedly. 

“You - “ HIt. “Are - “ Hit. “Such - “ Hit. “An - “ Hit. “Asshole!” Hit. “What the hell were you thinking!” You hit him once again for good measure and he removed the soft weapon from your hands, tired of being hit. 

“I was thinking that I had to protect you.” Bruce said calmly. He’d be lying if he said a massive weight hadn't been lifted off his shoulders. He loved you, truly. He wanted to keep you safe and away from harm and away from him, from Batman, from the one figure that could doom your life forever. But he also trusted you and wanted to share everything that was his with you. He wanted to show you everything, to show you who he truly was and what he did and just trust you because it felt so nice to have someone like you. Someone he could trust. “You shouldn't be with someone like me, with someone that could endanger you so easily.” 

“I think I can make that decision by myself,” you retorted, reaching for the pillow again. When it was clear Bruce was not relenting it to you, you scoffed and playfully pushed at his chest. “You're an idiot, Bruce. I thought you didn’t love me anymore.” It seemed like a playful remark, but Bruce could make out the sadness in his voice, and kicked himself mentally for causing it. 

“How could I not love you anymore?” He asked, caressing your cheek with his hand. “You’re everything to me. That's why I was willing to let you go, so you could be happy.”

“I can’t be happy without you,” you mumbled. 

“You'd learn how to. Find some nice man with no secret identities, who spent his night doing something normal like puzzles or crosswords, whose life would never put you in harm’s way.” 

“Puzzles? Crosswords?” 

“As long as he didn't go outside dressed like a bat, I'd be happy.”

“But I don’t want that. I want you.” 

Bruce sighed and looked away, but his hand never left your face. 

“You shouldn't. It’s not good for you to be with me. Hell, look at me. I'm Bruce Wayne. my whole life is under scrutiny and the public eye is merciless. How can I willingly let you be put under a microscopic lense just like I am?” 

“That’s not your choice to make, Bruce, and you know it. I don’t mind. I don’t care whatever I go through, as long as I go through it with you,” you held his hand with your own, and placed a few soft kisses on his. 

“Still. You just saw my cave. That's not exactly boyfriend material now, is it?” 

“I’d say a sex dungeon is worse.” 

This earned a chuckle out of him, and for a brief moment, he got lost in your gaze, as he often found himself getting. 

“Only you could make me laugh at moments like these.”

“And I'll be here too do that for many more years to come.” You scooted over, and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Just… Don’t shut me out, Bruce. I love you. We can do this together, and I'll be fine, I promise. And honestly, you don't even have much of a choice here, because you said yourself you didn't want to break up with me, so, well, there’s no real reason to do it.” 

He sighed, and after a while, nodded. He was allowed to be selfish, wasn't he? To take you for himself, to allow himself the comfort of being loved. 

He didn't have much of a choice, it seemed. You were intent on being with him no matter what, and despite a little voice in his head telling him that was a terrible idea, he let himself smile and agree to whatever you had to say. He always would, really. 

“So you just weren't going to let me break up with you?”

“Pft,” you scoffed, kissing him softly. “I wasn't. You’re mine now, Wayne. Or should I call you Dark Knight from now on? You gonna save me or something, Batman?” You chuckled slightly and something dark flashed in Bruce’s eyes. With one swift motion, he had you pinned down to the mattress, and your giggles had evolved to full on laughter. 

“Pretty cheeky, aren't we today?” He asked with a soft smirk, the one you recognised not from the tabloids and the gossip magazines, but from time spent with you. “You seem awfully into roleplay.” 

“Nothing of the sort. Just wondering if having a goal such as rescuing the fine maiden would improve your performance.” 

“Improve my performance, huh?” 

Bruce reached down to spread your legs and slot himself in between them. 

“We’ll see.” 

Now that Bruce could be completely open with you, life was good. 

He'd no longer come home to an empty Manor and even emptier bed, but you working on some sort of new prototype by the fireplace, or reading about some new technological advancement in bed. Such sights made his heart melt. It was all worth it. The sleepless nights, the bruises, the exhaustion. It was all worth it for you. 

Your time together went by quickly, and before you noticed, you were celebrating your second year as a couple. It was a lovely celebration, quiet and private - the way you two liked - a nice dinner by the river, music, some champagne, promises of a future together, and a question to move in with him. 

The answer was more than clear. You already spent a lot of time at his Manor, so moving in felt natural and comfortable. You wanted this. Wanted to move in with the love of your life, wanted to wake up to his lovely face every day, wanted to teach him how to make coffee and laugh as he gets it wrong after all this time, want to massage the knots caused from stress off his shoulders, wanted to be with him at all possible times. 

Moving in was extremely fun. You had some stuff from your apartment that you simply had to keep. Old memorabilia or some furniture you were super attached to. Items and clothes and such. But aside from that, you simply sold everything else and began your life inside Wayne Manor. 

It was great. It was perfect, even. Bruce still came home rather late sometimes, and he still cancelled your days ever so often, but at least you knew where he was, what he was doing. Sometimes, you’d go down to the cave and talk to him, ask him how patrol was doing through the intercoms and ask him to drive home safely. He always complied. 

One night, he came home to you fiddling with some of his old grapple gun prototypes. Useless, he thought them, having only kept those for spare parts. 

“What’re you doing?” Bruce asked, walking up to you as he removed his cowl. 

You smiled. Seeing him in his suit did things to you - it reminded you he was the just vigilante that kept Gotham safe, risking his own life for others, of course - and you gave him a head to toe look, clearly enjoying the view. 

“Working on something,” you said simply. 

Your boyfriend walked up to you, looking over your latest creation. It was still his old grapple gun, and yet it looked different. 

“I implemented two other grapples.” You handed him the object, crossing your arms over your chest. “Was a bit tricky, but I managed to do it. The line is strong to handle five times your body weight now, and you can use it not only to holster yourself up in the air, but also pull heavier objects towards you. What do you think?” 

Bruce took the gun in his hands and examined it. It was slightly heavier, but you’d managed to keep it small and efficient. It would be of extremely good use. 

“Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your head. “You're brilliant, really. What would I do without you?”

“Probably die in a ditch.” 

“Probably.” 

At first it was hard convincing him that it was totally okay for you to help him in his endeavours as Batman. You told him over and over again that there was nothing wrong with it. You weren't out there, you weren't actually out there, it’s not like you were in danger. No one could hurt you so long as you were in the safety of your shared home. After a few helpful tips and some upgrades on his gadgets, Bruce relented. 

And it was when you began to slack off at work that he realised that something had to change. He'd find you asleep on the job, too tired from having spent the night working on some new concoction for him. You couldn't keep your eyes open during meetings, and would fall asleep during every single ride you took. 

You told Bruce you were fine, of course. You'd been a college student once, and you’d survived. This was nothing. Still, your too sweet boyfriend would force you to stay home for days on end just so you could get some rest. He needed you not only safe, but also healthy, even if his demands for you to take a break were met with groans and eye rolls.

One night when you were huddled up in bed, you confided in him that you loved helping him out as Batman. It was a way for you to be involved in his life, do something nice for the city, and put your inventions to test. 

That's when he came up with the idea. 

It took a while for him to confess it, after all, he knew how much of a hardworking woman you were. You wouldn't simply abandon your job to help him out, now would you?

To his surprise, you did. 

You loved the idea as much as him. Sure, you loved your job at Wayne Enterprises, and were extremely proud of what you had achieved so far. But you had to admit you were stretching yourself too thin. Between your job and your little side gig, you had no real time to rest and it was killing you. So, you accepted. 

You handed in your resignation letter to your boss, billionaire Bruce Wayne (who smiled and spun you around in the air as he kissed you. You teased him about his lack of professionalism and he reminded you the company was his with a pat on your backside.) and headed home.

From then on, you made being Batman’s sidekick (a title he hated, really. You were much more than just a sidekick) your full-time occupation. You had your hobbies, sure, and your interests, and you went out with friends and made the most out of your life. Only this time, instead of working a 9-to-5 job at your boyfriend’s company, you remained inside his cave, crafting new objects and tools for him to use during his nightly duties. 

You created an explosive gel for him, a tool he could use to blast doors down and even stun enemies with. You were quite proud of that one, laughing loudly when you heard him use it for the first time through the intercoms. All you’d heard was a loud “boom”, and Bruce’s voice muttering a husky “fuck”. That was how you knew you’d done a good job. 

The Remote Control Batarang was one of your finest inventions. Bruce first asked you what he hell he needed a remote control Batarang for (he also hated the name Batarang - truly, no fun), but it proved to be useful real quickly. 

“You have two men to your left, one of them has a gun, the other has a bat.” Chuckle. 

“Very amusing,” Bruce whispered. 

“I think it’d be a good time to try the remote control Batarang,” you said, eyes flicking between the screens in front of you. “The one with a gun seems confident, but the other one not so much. If you tackle him down, he’s sure to not put up a fight.”

“You were dying for me to use this, weren't you?”

“So much.” 

You heard him remove the Batarang from his belt, and the few beeps informed you he was done setting it up. The slight woosh as the object cut through the air, and a distant man’s scream of agony was enough for you to know you’d succeeded once again. 

“Now who doesn’t need a Remote Control Batarang?” 

“Don’t call it that.” 

“Love you too. Coast is clear though, go ahead.” 

Maybe the Shock Gloves were your favourite. They were a quick and easy way for your boyfriend to stun his enemies and leave them unconscious long enough for him to do whatever he had to, while not taking their lives. 

You took Bruce’s no killing rule extremely serious. While you thought some of the people that terrorised Gotham most certainly deserved a fate worse than prison, you thought it was noble of him never to take a life for himself. His moral code was commendable and something you loved about him. 

And it goes without saying that after you finished the first prototype for the shock gloves, you made a smaller, daintier tool that allowed you to playfully shock people when you greeted them. Alfred was your first victim and later that evening, he cut off your hot water in retaliation. Touché. 

Your freeze blasts were quite useful as well. He'd used them only a handful times, but as long as he did and they helped, that's all that matters. 

Sometimes, Bruce would come home in the late hours of the night (or perhaps the early morning), and find you doubled over your desk, sketching prototypes or putting pieces together. 

It warmed his heart to see you were working so hard just for him, but tugged at it because you needed sleep. You needed rest, and here you were, working away for him. Creating new “toys”, as you’d so often call them. 

“What’re you still doing up?” He asked one particular night/morning, after having taken off his suit, and resting his head on the juncture between your shoulder and your neck. You sighed at the gesture - after such a tiring day,Bruce’s comfort was all you needed. 

“Working,” you mumbled, fingers moving with dexterity, tugging and twisting at some cables. 

“Isn't it a bit too late for you to still be working?” He replied against the skin of your shoulder. 

“Isn't it a bit too late for you to be coming home?”

“I’m not working anymore though. Coming to bed.”

“Are you? Goodnight then.”

Bruce shook his head and you could feel his brown locks brushing against your skin, tickling you. 

“Look at how far we’ve come. I used to be the one abandoning you in bed.” 

“You're lucky I found a new hobby.”

“Hm.”

You remained in silence for a while as Bruce watched you work. He had no idea what this new contraption of yours was, but he was sure it’d be brilliant, as they all were. As you were. 

“This,” you said, voice only above a whisper, as if to not distract you, “Is a remote electrical charge.”

“Interesting.” What was interesting though, was that he began pressing kisses to the column of your neck, hands wandering to your waist. “I can’t wait for you to tell me all about it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. Because now, we’re going to sleep.”

You scoffed. 

“I have to finish this Bruce, I'm sorry.”

“You’re stubborn. So very stubborn. Why did I hire you anyway?”

You turned to face him and feigned a thoughtful expression. 

“Because I'm really hot and you love me?”

“Damn it. Both of those are true.”

You chuckled and leaned in to kiss him, sighing as soon as his lips slotted against yours. You'd never get tired of kissing your boyfriend, that was for sure. 

“Fine,” you mumbled. 

“Hm?”

“Take me to bed, Batman.”

“No. No Batman here. With you, I'm Bruce.” 

“And that's what I love the most about you.” You smiled and lifted your arms, a silent plea for him to carry you. He rolled his eyes but did so effortlessly nevertheless, happy to obey your every command. And he of course was a sucker for having you near him at all times. 

“Let’s take a shower first. You reek, Batguy.” 

“Whatever you say.”

Needless to say, the Remote Electrical Charge was extremely efficient. 

You were the perfect pair, really. 

Although you joked about being Bruce’s sidekick, you felt more like a partner, really. You'd go and make the tools, he’d go out there and use them to kick some ass. It was a perfect situation. A win-win. And you didn't mind not working at Wayne Enterprises anymore, not really. You still visited Lucius often, and, when you weren't too tired, you’d help him out with certain projects. Your ideas and skills had only gotten better after all the things you’d help build, and your former boss appreciated the effort. 

You helped Bruce with pretty much everything. 

Helped improve his suit, fixed his car (more than once), his motorcycle, and even made a few prototypes for other means of transportation. He’d tested everything from jetpacks, to something that weirdly resembled a rocket and a flying suit. There really was no limit to your imagination. 

Your life as Bruce’s girlfriend was eventually discovered, shortly after you two moved in together, and you decided to take in a “secret” identity, just as he did. To the public, you were Bruce Wayne and his dumb girlfriend who spent her days inside his mansion, sunbathing and spending his fortune. To those who knew you better (so, like, about two or three people), you were the Caped Crusader and his inventor girlfriend. 

Although that title didn't stick for long, because after a few years, Bruce asked you to marry him. 

That’s when you became his inventor wife. 

And that was a life you were happy to lead. 

A/N: And that's it!!! I hope you guys enjoyed this! Once again, I'm so sorry to my anon. I've been super busy and tired, and I got the requests mixed up. If it helps, I really enjoyed writing this - Bruce and an engineer girlfriend who builds stuff for him sounds like a pretty cool idea.

Well then, that's all for today!!!

I hope y'all have a wonderful day ahead <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight fanfic #the dark knight fanfiction #nolanverse #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x fem!reader

[matchamiko]

hello!! could I please request prompt 25 with toshinori?

˚₊ ⊹ 25. The first makeout session that could lead to more + Toshinori Yagi

˚₊ ⊹ Warnings: dry humping, previous established new relationship, canon small-might, making out.

He was - grading papers? Finishing off a report on the last homework he set? Actually writing the next homework assignment in fact? Either way, his coffee table was strewn with papers, some in neat piles and some discarded none to kindly, caught under the fans of his laptop open on a word document baring names and grades and percentages he’s not really focusing on right now.

You came over a few hours ago with a bento box or two for the next days at school. It was just something you started doing for him, claimed it was because he wasn’t eating enough and that your love language was cooking food for people, but you loved that he would kiss your cheek and parade it around the school wrapped in its cute cloth with its cute bow. And you kind of never left, chatting idly with him from the kitchen while you brewed tea, something soft for him and a herby concoction for yourself, something to make you sleepy and all the more acceptable.

Toshinori could taste it in your mouth. The tea and something else, something distinctly you. Leaning backwards as you cup his sharp jaw, smiling when you hum and kiss his nose affectionately. There was something on the TV, something mind numbing and calm, a documentary about Geisha's he thinks but he's too focussed on his work, and on you. The futon you'd insisted on setting up for him was comfortable, soft and heavy at the same time, a perfect support for his back while he was tucked up by the coffee table while you lounged like a cat on the couch behind him, asking lazily every few minutes for a kiss. This was the first one on the mouth. You'd started on the back of his head, then on his long frazzled strands framing his face and then his forehead, then his nose and when you pecked his lips; Toshinori found himself chasing and chasing and chasing.

"Don't tell the kids that I abandoned their grades for you," he's twisted at a strange angle with his lips muttering yours, a prayer only for you to taste, "Aizawa'll kill me if he knew,"

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed and drawing your hands up the sinewy expanse of his neck,

"You have your priorities in perfect order, thank you very much," Toshinori allows you to slink down to the floor, following the droop of your legs and curling into his lap with deep, yearning sigh "I require kisses and you're supplying them, you're serving your duty to your partner,"

He laughs and then moans with the shape of your lips on his jaw,

"I suppose, if you put it like that," he looks at you for a moment, a soft smile stretching over his features and you return it, a little something extra in your eyes he can't quite make out. You two had kissed before, a lot and often but this felt different, felt like honey trickling down his bones and crystallising hot in his belly. Toshinori hums with the tracing of your mouth over his neck, sucking something mean into his delicate skin and he shifts, hands settling on your hips.

Hips that slot deeper against his and give this shy little shudder. A large slender hand cups the back of your head where you practically vibrate against him, the air suddenly palpable and sweet. You think he might ask you to stop, that you've gone far enough and that he's not quite ready for anything more intense, given his injuries and situation and maybe he wants you to go home or even take a break or even -

"Do that again, please," he's far from sober, drinking your lips and swallowing your gushing whimpers, desperate for the kisses and the licks he's come to know so well. These are different, headier, a little smoky and a little dangerous, slow and hard and all things moreish. His free hand guides your hips, into what he's not sure but you gain confidence at his request, undulating with such wantonness that he's the first that moans out loud. Punched and loud and startling, Toshinori flushes right down to his stomach, peaking from where you'd shoved your hands under his shirt, hardly denting your frantic kisses. His grip is harsh, demanding and selfish, smoothing to your ass and this time it's you that grunts at the way he massages a spreads you, slouching lower and wider against the couch.

"I want - I wanna -," you're stuttering but it's from lust, from the sheer magnetic want for the man beneath you, heavy lidded and panting open mouthed, "Please, can we - we don't hav'ta but also, y'know?"

Toshinori kisses you again, slow and deliberate, decisive with his answer; wordless save for a whimper and a jerk.

all rights reserved © matchamiko. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#miko.prompt challenge #miko.chats #kisses u !!! #toshinori yagi x reader #all might x reader #all might smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader

[thatdammchickennugget]

Can you please write a little something for enzo to do with a soulmate au, i adore your writing, thank you <3

Something Special

pairing - lorenzo berkshire x gn!reader

warnings - fluff

a/n - thanks for requesting 💕

wordcount - 673

The city hummed with its usual cacophony of sounds as you navigated the crowded streets, lost in the rhythm of your own thoughts. The concept of soulmates had always seemed like a distant fairytaleto you, something reserved for the pages of romance novels. More and more of your friends had been running into their soulmate, but after waiting for so many years already, you had started to think it would never happen for you. But little did you know, destiny had other plans in store.

It was a serendipitous moment, amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, when you first laid eyes on him. He stood out from the crowd like a beacon of light. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in with an inexplicable force.

As you passed by, your eyes met his, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. It was as if the universe had hit pause, allowing you to bask in the warmth of each other's gaze. In that moment, you felt a stirring deep within your soul, a feeling you couldn't quite put into words.

It wasn't until later, as you sat alone in your favorite cafe, that the realization dawned upon you like the first light of dawn. You had actually seen soulmate, the missing piece of your puzzle that you had been searching for all along. The thought sent shivers down your spine, filling you with a sense of awe and wonder.

The bell above the cafe door chimed, signaling the arrival of a new patron. Glancing up from your seat, your heart skipped a beat as you saw him once again, standing there with that same captivating presence that had drawn you in earlier.

Your breath caught in your throat, disbelief washing over you like a tidal wave. Twice in one day, it seemed almost too good to be true. Was this some sort of cosmic joke, or had fate truly smiled upon you?

His eyes scanned the room, and when they met yours, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was as if he too couldn't believe the coincidence of crossing paths again so soon.

With trembling hands, you beckoned him over, unable to contain the rush of emotions coursing through you. As he approached, the air seemed to crackle with an electric energy, the universe itself conspiring to bring you closer together.

"Hey," you greeted him, your voice barely above a whisper, still awestruck by the sheer improbability of the moment. "What are the chances of running into you twice in one day?"

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Seems like fate has a funny way of bringing people together," he remarked, taking a seat across from you.

His charming smile widened as he settled into the chair opposite you, his gaze warm and inviting. "I suppose fate works in mysterious ways," he replied, his voice smooth like velvet. "But I'm not one to question it when it leads me to such delightful company."

His words sent a flutter through your chest, a rush of warmth spreading from the pit of your stomach to the tips of your fingers. It was as if every nerve in your body was attuned to his presence, resonating with a harmony that transcended mere coincidence.

"I'm Enzo, by the way," he continued, extending a hand across the table. "Enzo Berkshire.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you reached out to shake his hand, the simple act sending sparks flying between you. Your voice was barely a whisper as you struggled told him your own name.

Enzo's eyes sparkled with curiosity as he studied you, as if trying to unravel the secrets hidden beneath the surface. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said, his smile never faltering. "Perhaps fate has something special in store for us today."

And as you sat there, lost in conversation with your soulmate, the world around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in its wake.

Enzo Taglist - @slytherinboysappreciation @urmomsgirlfriend1 @starsval @gillyweeds @sir-elian @harryslittlebitch @gayforyelena @whoreforfictionalmen18 @ravenclawprincess33 @sbrn0905 @helpimhopelesslyinlove @Yhiiil @themarauderswife7 @moonlightreader649 @ihatemyexs @chgrch @nat1221 @thestarlithideout @iamaslytherin0 @bath1lda @ohmaigwad @pinkposttragedy @allshitsangiggles @hoeforvinniehackerrr @mildly-delulu @h3artz4soph @sunasbbie @marsbars09 @vcosette @meepycheep @aglady13 @rinalouu @floswife @ariensversion @agent-tempest @s0urw00lf @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @pinkestfloyd @xlinxdax0704 @chulabeans @l0v3do11 @unstablereader @acourtoflostandwanderingstars @catiwinky @wolfstar-marvelsfan @captainstanksblog @istill-dream-ofyou @pinktreee @ceehance @lizhub @theadventuresofanartist @iamgayforyourmom1501 @feistyfox47 @nat1221 @i-think-you-are-gr8 @cas-planet @csmt_m @selyselyselyse @mrsriddles-blog @the-sylver-dragon @poppysrin @camille-1019 @laniirackssss @slvtfortheo @chosenoneslver @txzii @c0rnf1akessss @yourenogoodforme @opheliamalfoy236 @jeannie-beannie @starzioo @itsarajr @starsfortaylor

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#enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #harry potter #slytherin boys #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #mari writes

[wintervalewritersecond]

weathervane - xavier thorpe

requested: sort of! requests: open! i am begging for literally any kinda of xavier fluff 😭 can be fluffy fluff, hurt/comfort idc i love it all. i have no specific ideas i’m just desperate for more xavier

A/N: its not very original or special, but i hope you like it <3 not a lot of plot, just fluff <3

wordcount: 1,517 warnings: tyler is a bit of an ass, outreach day, she/her pronouns for reader, fluff

Xavier had gotten 'Weathervane' as his volunteer job for Outreach day. You, his normie girlfriend, decided to keep him company while he works.

"Oh my god," Xavier groans when he opens the blue envelope. "I got the Weathervane."

He has not stepped foot in that shop ever since Tyler and his friends tried to beat him up.

"Dude, can we trade?"

Ajax looks up from his own paper. He was actually quite excited about his offer. Uriah's heap. It was some kind of freaky store with loads of taxidermy. He hopes that Enid has the same pick. No way would he trade his volunteer job. For the Weathervane, you need people skills, and even if you don't have those, there will still be loads of people in there.

"I can't man," Ajax shrugs. "What if one of the snakes comes out and I accidentally stone someone trying to get a coffee? Besides, why don't you just invite your girlfriend to hang out with you?"

He immediately texted you afterward, asking what you were up to and if you were willing to keep him some company while he works. If he would be left there with Tyler, there surely would be some type of fight.

You immediately agreed. You had a day off from school anyway, as you were supposed to visit some of the places where the Nevermore students volunteer. Something about testing them, although some of your classmates also went only to bully them.

Xavier had already been working for two hours, having to start at 10:00 in the morning. A machine had broken, so he had to use Google Translate to get it working again while Tyler cleaned the rest of the restaurant. After that, he got lectured on how to perfectly pour coffee into a mug. Not his thing. After today, he probably can't even stand the smell of coffee at all. Before this, he used to love drinking coffee, but in the last two hours, he already downed four cups.

When the little bell above the Weathervane door tinkles, he doesn't even flinch. Who knew that in two hours, there could already be tens of people that hopped in for a coffee.

He is wiping the tables and collecting mugs when he hears a familiar voice.

"Hi!"

You stand at the register, a smile on your face and a bag on your shoulders. A smile immediately makes its way onto Xavier's face as well. Thank God, he isn't stuck with only Tyler anymore.

He immediately hops over to the cash register before Tyler can, leaning on his elbows with a grin on his face.

"Can I offer you a hot chocolate? On me."

You snort as you look at your boyfriend. You wouldn't often go to Weathervane by yourself, but you just wanted to hang out with him. There are not a lot of moments where you can really see Xavier. Not only do you attend different schools, but no one is supposed to leave or go to Nevermore without a proper chaperone.

"Sure," you smile before sitting down in a booth hidden in the corner.

It is right next to some sort of cork board which is filled with random pins and notes. You unpack some of your things. One activity you always love to do is drawing, which is the exact thing that was the start of your relationship with Xavier. The entire Weathervane was filled with people, and the only empty seat was across from him. It was cold outside and you craved your favorite warm beverage, so after mustering up some courage, you asked if you could sit by him.

He was confused at first. Most people in the shop avoided him like the Plague. They knew he went to Nevermore, so they wanted nothing to do with him except to spit on his table or 'accidentally' kick his bag. He moved his sketchbook to the side before nodding, allowing you to sit across from him.

The two of you started talking as you also grabbed your own sketchbook, doodling away as your hot chocolate got placed next to you. He showed you some of his art as you showed yours.

"I can show you something," he then whispered before pointing his fingers to the page.

He had drawn a spider on it, but before you could even blink, it started moving. The spider went in a circle on the table, his legs moving in a slow way before it crawls back onto the page. You had never seen something like it. Your mouth had fallen open as you looked from his hand to the sketchbook.

After that, you hung out together as much as you could. Be it at your house, his art studio, or somewhere in Jericho.

"One hot chocolate with whipped cream and caramel toppings."

You look up at Xavier who is standing next to you with a big grin as he places the drink on the table.

The day went by fast. For you, at least. At some points during the day, Xavier would subtly move his hand to make your drawings move, distracting you from whatever it was you were drawing. He also refilled your cup multiple times. You had taken a break from sitting in the Weathervane, taking an hour to stretch your legs and buying a sandwich from the shop nearby. Tyler didn't let Xavier have any breaks, so he must be hungry by now.

When you come back, you see your backpack in the same position. Xavier told you that he would keep an eye on it, that way you didn't have to carry around a huge bag with you. At the register are three boys, standing with their arms crossed and sour looks on their faces.

"We don't want a freak to serve us. What did you do to Tyler, huh?"

Xavier rolls his eyes before leaning over the register a bit.

"That lazy shit is taking his fourth break for the day. So, either I help you, or you have to wait until he is back."

One of the guys scoffs, looking at the rest of his friends.

"You hear that? A freak is cussing at us normies. Maybe we should teach him a lesson!"

You clear your throat as you stand behind the three, making them look down at you.

"Y/N!" They were your classmates. "I wouldn't go here if I was you. I don't know what this freak did to Tyler, but for the last few minutes that I was here, I haven't heard from him or seen him. Not to mention..."

He points to your bag.

"This freak here insists that he is just watching it, but we all know he stole it. Say the words, and I will beat him up."

You avert your gaze from the boy before loudly ringing the small bell that stands on the counter. After ten times, Tyler immediately emerges from the back.

"Oh, Tyler!" You say with a sickly sweet voice. "Something horrible happened and I need to take Xavier with me! You can handle Weathervane by yourself, right?"

Tyler has always had a weak spot for you. It annoyed you, but the least you could do is use it to get Xavier out of this building.

"Please? It is an emergency!"

"I uh- Yeah. Yeah, go ahead."

You grab your bag before taking Xavier's hand in yours, pulling him out of the store. When you are out of Tyler's sight, you both burst out laughing.

"What dumbasses they are!"

Xavier nods, he totally agrees. He is happy that you got him out of there. The two of you head to the center of the city. There are chairs set up there anyway, as a new Crackstone statue would be introduced in only an hour.

"I can't believe he didn't even give me a break," he groans. "I had to do all the work, I couldn't even eat-"

You immediately hold up the brown paper bag. The smell of sandwiches enters Xavier's nose as he gasps. He takes hold of the bag, seeing two sandwiches neatly packaged.

"Oh my god, I love you so much."

You take both out, giving him one while taking a bite of your own. It is the least you could do for him. You are already happy enough that you got to spend some time with him today, even if it meant having to run into your asshole classmates.

More and more of the chairs get filled up as Nevermore students finish their volunteering jobs.

The unveiling of the statue went as wrong as it could be. You don't know who did it, but the statue caught fire, making everyone evacuate the field. Xavier grabs your hand, pulling you away from the heat while laughing. You look up at him once you're safe from the fire. The only normie that stood with a Nevermore kid. But you couldn't really care less. If anything, Nevermore is interesting.

Xavier presses a kiss to your forehead, smiling down at you as you can only stare back lovingly. You can't believe that he is all yours.

It is never a dull day with a Nevermore kid around.

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe oneshot #wednesday imagine #wednesday oneshot #request

[frogserotonin]

Hii, could you do an Anthony lockwood x reader where they just have a nice chill day. They are together and have nothing to do so they just stay in bed all day sharing Stolen kisses, words of affirmation, cuddling, talking, bed hair, morning voice, makeout?

y'all don't understand this is so different from what i write on ao3 for my other fandom, i am an angst machine there, all of these fluff requests are terrifying bc idk how to write fluff 😭(/lh dw i still love writing them)

as long as you're next to me(just the two of us)- anthony lockwood x reader

(@citizen-01, @gibby31)

a/n: hope i could do justice to what u wanted!! was just listening to beabadoobee when writing this lmao warnings: none??? unedited, kissing ig, idk cursing?? ooc

Waking up in the morning wasn’t something you enjoyed all that often, the prospect of another day not that appealing when the Problem was still a prominent…problem issue. You’d never grow tired of waking up to the sight of Lockwood next to you though, limbs shot out in all directions-and yet always with an arm over you. Sometimes he’d have a little frown on his face when he was very deeply asleep that made you coo and smile so widely it hurt your cheeks. To be fair, who could blame you?

Waking up this morning was no different from most for you, a flash of disappointment at the world around you, and then giddiness at the realisation of Lockwood’s arm being slung around your torso and the most adorable fucking frown on his lips. You sigh happily, sitting up slightly, careful not to move his arm from its place. You glance at the clock on the bedside table-7:36am- dismiss it because it’s cold as shit, and weave your fingers into his hair, stroking his head and humming a song you don’t remember the name of. Today is a good day, a free day. Lucy will probably stay in bed until 9 and then make herself some toast, a cup of tea and then head back to bed and draw with the radio on. George won’t be up until around the same time, going to the kitchen to grab a pastry, make some tea and then bury himself in research about the Problem. 

If he could help it Lockwood would probably not awaken for another couple hours also. Unless you moved. He’d probably wake up to drag you back to bed to cuddle with him then.

You wouldn’t be opposed to that actually. 

Slowly you remove your hand from his hair, and then his arm from around you, letting out a small huff of laughter when he immediately moves it back, although still very unconscious. You swing a leg out from the quilt and place it on the (really fucking cold) floor, allowing for the majority of your weight to shift to that side. His other hand shoots out and grabs yours. For a couple seconds all you can pick up is incomprehensible mumbling, and then-

“Darling, come back.” It was a miracle you didn’t swoon, the nickname and the morning voice were a lethal combination. More grumbling and then he cracked an eye open and offered you a hopeful grin. “Please?”

Wow. How are you even alive anymore? It’s like your heart is simultaneously beating faster than humanly possible, and not at all. 

You feel his arms completely embrace you and drag you into them. He props himself up on one elbow and kisses your forehead, whispering a ‘good morning’ onto it and then attacking the rest of your face with lazy kisses, his other arm still securely hugging you to him.

“How’re you so pretty after having just woken up?” he asks, and it sounds so curious and genuine, you almost melt, right there and then. 

“I should ask you.” You try to play off how completely smitten you are by bantering with him, “Your morning hair is gorgeous dear.” you giggle at the hand that shoots up to try and smooth it down. It doesn’t work but you don’t particularly want to tell him, simply dragging his arm back down to cuddle you again. 

You lay together, you in his arms and his chin resting on the top of your head, for a little while, simply enjoying each other's presence. You turn around, burrowing yourself further into the blankets-because it really is fucking cold as balls, far out-and you wrap your arms around his middle. Neither of you are quite sure when you started kissing or who started kissing who but neither of you were planning on pulling away first.

Kissing Anthony Lockwood was many things. Sometimes it was rushed and breathtaking, like after a particularly terrifying case, when he’d push his lips to yours with a certain sort of vigour, reassuring himself of your stable and safe condition. Sometimes it was heated and intoxicating, deep kisses that doused you in gasoline and lit you aflame. 

These kisses are slow and idle, just the both of you enjoying the feel and existence of each other. You feel like you’re floating, tethered only by the feeling of his lips on yours. You’re infinite in his arms, your hands have found their way back to his hair, running your fingers through his hair. He pulls away and kisses the tip of your nose.

“You’re absolutely stunning.” His eyes lock with yours and his voice is hoarse and breathless from the kissing but still gravelly from having recently woken up. “You deserve everything and anything you so desire and I will go to the ends of the earth to provide you with that.” You kiss him again, just once, but it's hard and full of as much love as you can convey.

“I think that everything I want at all in this world is right here.”

“That is disgustingly adorable.” His smile is all the stars in a clear night sky.

“Thanks', I try.”

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co #mars's fanfiction stuffs ✨ #lockwood x reader

[hyugaruma]

hii, I have a request could you write something about Binzo x f reader

something where he'll be a bit awkward (cause thats how I think he should be haha)

anything you want Im sorry I dont have much ideas

I love your writing keep going !!

Meet-Cute (Binzo x Reader)

♡

re: you meet a strange guy on the subway… he’s not so bad

i wholeheartedly agree, i think binzo would be an awkward doof, but also a bit too honest for his own good. thanks for requesting!!

♡

You could feel his eyes on you, boring into you like some animal. You tried your best to ignore it, opting to pretend to scroll through your phone as he sat directly across from you on the subway. Every time you would look up to try to catch him in the act, his eyes would frantically dart away as if he hadn’t been staring you down for the past five minutes. Your better judgment should’ve told you to be worried about some strange man’s eyes being so keen on you, but something about the way he twiddled with his thumbs so anxiously, or haphazardly drew his hand through his messy hair, made you feel like he wasn’t a threat. Strange, sure, but threatening? You didn’t think so.

You glanced back up again, and again his eyes flickered away quickly. He looked wild, untamed, but somehow equally as shy and awkward. You watched as his tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth as he pretended to read the advertisement displayed above your head. You wondered if he even knew how to read, because his eyes certainly didn’t seem like they were actually focusing on any of the words.

You slowly tucked your phone away into your pocket. If this was a game he wanted to play, you could play it too. So, you decided to stare back at him while he pretended to be preoccupied. You could tell by the way he was starting to fidget that he could feel your gaze on him, saw it from the corner of his eyes. It was making him nervous. You leaned forward, propping your elbow on your knee and letting your chin rest in your palm. Now you were making it obvious. Served him right for doing the same to you.

His leg started to bounce, and he turned his head to pretend to stare between the throngs of people standing in the subway carriage. A hand came up to nervously scratch at his neck. But you didn’t let up. You would make him acknowledge you. As you casually watched him, you couldn’t help but notice that despite his wildness, he was actually kind of cute. Like, in the way one might think a rabid squirrel is still cute despite its savage nature. You almost laughed at the thought, biting it back, but still allowing a smile to draw upon your lips.

It seemed he couldn’t take it anymore, your smile not managing to escape his attention, and he finally looked back to you, your gazes meeting. You gave a little wave. “I couldn’t help but notice that you keep staring at me,” you said. “I thought it was only fair that I should get the chance too.”

He swallowed thickly and tried clearing his throat. He opened his mouth once, decided against whatever he was going to say, and shut it. He contemplated, fingers wrenching at a frayed string from his jean jacket. He stared at you hard for another moment before finally speaking. “Oops.”

Oops? You couldn’t help but chuckle at his response. He was weird, that was for sure. A bit endearing, though. “What’s your name?”

He pointed to himself incredulously, like he had no idea why you would want to be bothered with knowing his name. “Me?” He asked.

You nodded, leaning back in your seat again and crossing your arms over your chest. The overhead comm system dinged as the subway screeched at the arrival of a stop, “Toarushi,” it announced. “Next stop: Nagata.” He didn’t move, and neither did you. The train doors closed, and it was off again.

“Ah, um…” he cleared his throat again. “Miyauchi. You can call me Binzo. If you want.”

“Binzo? Do you want me to call you Binzo?”

He nodded vigorously, some of his anxiety seemingly dissipating at the casual conversation. “Er… What’s yours?”

You responded with your name, and a wide, upbeat smile overtook his face. You felt your heart jump at the sight of it. Okay, maybe kind of cute had been an understatement. There was definitely something novel about him that seemed to draw you in. The next stop was yours, so you wanted to get in as much conversation with him as possible before it was time for you to depart. “So?”

He tilted his head, waiting for you to continue.

“So,” you repeated. “Why were you staring at me?”

His eyebrows shot up, as if it was an obvious question that shouldn’t have even necessitated his answering. Like he couldn’t imagine why you even needed to ask. “Because you’re pretty,” he answered, leaning forward slightly. “Is it okay? If I look at you?”

Your face suddenly became very hot. Now it was your turn to be the nervous mess. But, you hadn’t expected him to answer so bluntly. Usually guys would walk their way around things, try to not-so-subtly subtly let you know that they were attracted to you. But this? This was a new way of flirting, certainly. Though, it didn’t really feel like he was trying to flirt with you, more so just being strikingly honest. “Well, you can look at whatever you want to look at,” you said. “I can’t stop you.”

“I’ll stop if you want.” His earnest eyes bored into you now just as intensely as they had before.

You felt your palms start to sweat. “I don’t mind,” you replied, trying to be equally as honest but finding it hard to stay as unaffected as he was. You shifted in your seat, trying to somehow find the high ground in the conversation again. “Do you normally stare at people you think are pretty?”

“No,” he answered, crudely sticking a finger into his ear and giving it a dig. You almost snorted. “Not normally.”

“Just something you thought you’d try out?” You joked.

He looked at you seriously as he slowly stuffed his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket. He looked like he was contemplating your question. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone as pretty as you.”

This time you couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I appreciate it. You’re not so bad yourself.”

You took note of the almost indiscernible pinkness that erupted over his neck at your words. Now it was his turn to shift in his seat, his foot ticking like it so badly wanted to start tapping anxiously at the floor. You could tell he was having trouble with responding, so you decided to bail him out by continuing. “When’s your stop, by the way?”

“Uh… The one we just left?”

You gawked at him. “You mean, you missed your stop?”

A grin split his face again. “You were talking to me.” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “It’ll come back around.”

You would have facepalmed if not for how endearing his blatant earnestness was. This guy was like no one you had ever met before. Though, you couldn’t help but to feel similarly to him. The blur of familiar buildings from beyond the subway windows told you that your stop was coming up. And yet, you didn’t want to stop talking to the oddball in front of you. “You didn’t have to miss your stop for me,” you said. “It’s not like we won’t talk again.”

“Huh?” He craned his head to the side, bewilderment on his face.

You smiled as you dug your phone out from your pocket, unlocking it and reaching across the aisle to hand it to him. His head remained cocked as he eyed your phone curiously. It was clear he hadn’t the slightest idea as to what you were insinuating. You rolled your eyes. “I’m asking for your number,” you clarified.

His eyes widened as they flashed back and forth between you and the phone. “Huh?” He said again.

You huffed. “So we can talk again? If you’d like?” The train began gradually screeching to a halt, having finally reached your stop. You started to pull your hand with the phone back as you spoke. “But, if you’re not interested—“

Just as the words started leaving your mouth, Binzo’s hand shot out and snatched your phone from yours with such an excitable ferocity that it almost startled you. “Yes!” He blurted, like he was afraid you’d change your mind. He started childishly one-finger tapping at your phone to put his number in, intense concentration on his face. “I didn’t think you’d be interested, is all,” he quietly muttered, more so to himself than anything, but the words still reached your ears.

The subway came to a stop as he finished putting his number in your phone, handing it back your way. You couldn’t help but notice the way his hand shook slightly. Purposefully, you grazed your fingers against his palm as you took the phone from him. He dazedly looked down at his hand where you had touched him.

You laughed as you stood up, his gaze snapping back up to meet yours. The subway doors opened with a shrill squeak, as if announcing your departure. You sent Binzo a soft smile and a wink, making him go pink again. Oh, you could get used to this. “I am very interested,” you said over your shoulder, crossing the threshold to exit. “See you next time. It’s a date.”

The doors closed, just in time for you to hear Binzo’s voice echo from inside. “Huh?!”

#high&low #high & low #high and low #high&low headcanons #high&low scenarios #drabble #fanfiction #high&low fanfic #high&low imagines #h&l #hilo #suzuran #high&low one shot #high&low the worst #high&low the worst cross #high&low the worst x #binzo #miyauchi #miyauchi kouzou #high&low binzo #jdrama #j drama #one shot #high&low oneshot #oneshot #one-shot #headcanons

[joshlmbrt]

i am in the middle of a charlie walker brainrot so. hear me out on this req. what if he had the biggest crush on the reader, like writing all his thoughts about reader in a diary or something. and reader finds the diary. you can decide the rest

charlie walker brainrot you say? (i am as well). thank you for this request!! sorry it took so long! i hope i do it justice! <3 w; fem!reader - anyone can read though, i barely use descriptions :) (you can change the pronouns to your liking!) fluffy!

the door flies open, causing your brows to lift slightly and charlie’s hair to jostle at the movement.

“did you forget i was coming?”

“what? no, no. of course not. i-i was just - uh - i was finishing up on homework.”

wrong.

he was writing in his journal about how you looked today and how he could barely even speak. he’d gotten every answer wrong when called on because he was only thinking about you.

“mhm,” your left brow stays slightly lifted as you give an accusatory up and down causing him to shift on his legs. “so… are we gonna watch those cheesy horror movies you picked out? or do you want me to just stand on your doorstep?”

he thinks you’re serious or upset with him, but he notices the teasing smile that makes its way onto your face. “no. sorry. come in,” he walks away. “i’ll get started on popping some popcorn and getting some other snacks. any drinks?”

“cherry coke?” you’re already halfway up the steps, stopping just to peek into the kitchen over the railing.

“of course.” he nods, watching you disappear up the steps. he lets out a little sigh, tossing the unpopped kernels into the microwave, pressing 2, the smell of butter filling his nose.

meanwhile, you make yourself comfortable on his flannel sheets, rolling onto your stomach and grabbing the tapes on his nightstand he had rented for your movie night, a journal falling to the ground.

‘DO NOT OPEN’ was written with black ink, several lines going over the lettering which makes it look slightly indented.

your brows lift, head tilting as you pick it up from the ground. your eyes cast a look towards the door you’d kept slightly open, before looking back towards the journal that you’re clearly not gonna look in.

you chew at the inside of your cheek, letting out a dejected sigh. “sorry, charlie…” he shouldve had a locked diary at least.

your interest was piqued when you noticed a little doodle on the first page. charlie was quiet about his talents - writing? wonderful. small drawings or doodles? believe it or not, he was great at them.

your fingers run over the doodle of yourself, a small smile pulling at your lips. you slowly turn the page and read the date before the chicken scrawl that was charlie walker’s handwriting.

‘it’s infuriating really - how she doesn’t know. about how i crave the affection she can give me, yet i still run from it. it’s not her fault really, she didn’t decide to be a loveable creature with pretty eyes and-‘

the journal is yanked from your hands, your eyes wide as you stare at charile who’s face is red and eyes turned down in embarrassment.

“can’t you read?” he points to the front.

“i definitely can…” you nod. “i… did you mean those things?”

he lets his shoulders slump and allows himself to sit next to you because this is probably the last time you’d want to be around a creep like him.

nothing he wrote or drew is remotely something an actual creep would do - yet he can’t help but think about how disgusted you might feel.

“yeah,” he shrugs. “for…for awhile - i think?” he never looks up once and you wish he would so you can look at him. “i…im sorry. i know you probably don’t like the way i wrote about you or-or-”

“charlie…” your hand reaches for his. he finally looks up, hesitating and pursing his plush red lips. you smile softly, your thumb moving along his knuckles as you scoot closer. “can i… kiss you?”

his brain short circuits and his lips part, brows lifting slightly at the words because he wasn’t expecting you to say that. “i…uh, yeah. sure. why not?”

you smile at his stumbled on words, leaning closer, eyes fluttering close as your lips brush against his. it’s hesitant because it’s still so new. his lips press against yours finally, hand reaching up and cupping your cheek with more sure movements.

he sucks in a deep breath, tilting his head and your head the way he wants to go, thumb pressing into the soft skin of your flushed cheek. you smile against his lips, pulling away slowly and resting your forehead against his.

“does…that mean you like me too?”

you laugh softly, your own hands lifting and tucking his hair behind his ears before holding his cheeks and rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone. “i believe it does, walker.”

#cherry writes ✿ #charlie walker x fem!reader #charlie walker x reader #charlie walker x you #rory culkin x fem!reader #rory culkin x reader

[astrologicaldreamin]

Can you please give your thoughts on having MC un scorpio at zero degrees? 🩵

Hey, love! I'm still what I would consider a "baby" astrologer, so please take what resonates and leave what doesn't! I am by far a professional, but I appreciate the request to explore. ♡ Within your public image, you may be drawn to highlighting details that people tend to ignore. I've always seen Scorpio as an intense, reflective energy when in interaction to other people. The "intensity" is the actual draw of secrecy and the unconscious urge to dig a little deeper into the depths of things. Other people may notice that there is a privacy that you like to keep, almost a "shadow" upon your personal life. With it being in the 0°, it would most likely heighten this behavior. You may be very energetically direct, but the seclusion you take compared to, let's say, a Leo placement, makes the other person in interactions feel almost watched or potentially judged. You may not be casting the official judgement, but the lack of true openness (or mental boundary) creates an intrigue that promotes a self-reflection in the other person. That is why Scorpio is linked so easily towards obsession — people naturally have an inclination towards mystery in addition to Scorpios having an innate capacity to discover. Therefore, in terms of career (which the Midheaven is mostly associated with), I find this to be a very great position for something in either Law, the Visual Arts, or Science. Without knowing how this energy is balanced throughout your full chart, I find the Scorponic energy in its purest form to invite transformation and depth. In our society, I can sense easy fulfillment with this placement because of your ability to confront the core injustice of issues that could invoke change on a mass scale. This energy can also translate into the Arts. With the inherent depth your placement holds, the artistry you may bring to others would be transformative. It reminds me of the same energy of looking at a painting you don't know why is driving such reflective and almost uncomfortable psyche. It can be very passionate and moving, drawing in a viewer without understanding the cause and effect, until the actual effect is enacted. Lastly, Science would fulfill the thought-provoking and transformative energy you naturally display. Within research, you may easily have a knack for looking at a perspective other people may not share or revealing something that was left behind/discarded.

In essence, I find that you will feel the most fulfilled in a career/passion that would allow you to showcase some form of personal expression that encourages either external or internal transformation and allows you to get into the details of a particular cause. I have a personal feeling that you already know what subject invokes that sense of drive in you, since there is an energy of self-awareness that either is accepted or denied within your Scorpio placement.

#astrology #midheaven #midheaven in scorpio #scorpio #astrologicaldreamin #astrology observations #zodiac signs #zodiac #astro observations #astro notes #astrology notes #astro placements #midheaven in the signs #midheaven in the degrees #critical degree #10th house #scorpio in the 10th house #critical degree in the 10th house

[dirksawesomesprites]

okay so this isn't a request and i'm sorry for the botherations if this isn't allowed but how do you mimic the homestuck art style so well? it genuinely boggles my mind

its not bothersom!

my method of making sprites is, step by step

read the ask, figure out what elements i need from different sprites (ex if a character wears something else from another sprite, like an outfit swap)

find the sprites, manusly take them apart in procreate for the elements i need

put them together and draw the aspects that arnt in homestuck

and most of the elemets i actually do draw by hand. the holding hands sprites, i just simply draw the hands everytime because its eaiser.

if you just study hussies style and break down the anatomy and porportions of his art its actually pretty easy to recreate (in my opinion)

ex: most aspects are mostly these shapes

hussies style is very fluid, the straight lines are in the pixels. everything requires a nice loose flow to draw it. atleast thats how i found it to be able to be the easiest

heres more of a panel style example:

(im doing these from memory so they arnt perfect)

most of it counts on your understanding of the characters enough to draw them properly, one example is me with daves hair. he has one front swoop across his forehead, sideburns, 2 back facing flips, and a little front part. and the horns are fairly easy once you understand their shape

i hope this helps!!!

#dirksawesomesprites #ask #homestuck #not a sprite post #tutorial #information

[foreverdolly]

𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑(𝐩𝐭 𝟏)| 𝟗𝟎𝐬!𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: your love life has been tragic to say the least, so after a rather public breakup you decide that you're done with bad boys. elvis is the lead singer of a well known and well loved metal band. he lives a hard and fast lifestyle and wouldn't dream of ever apologizing for it. the one thing that nobody would ever expect from a rough-around-the-edges kinda guy like elvis is the fact that the man is a hopeless romantic. and he's got his sights set on you. elvis presley was precisely the kind of person you were trying to avoid. you couldn't let him weasel his way into your life. . . . right?

warning/notes: SMUT! ahead, this thing is going to be dirty dirty so prepare yourselves, drug and alcohol use. you're seriously a sex symbol and everyone is obsessed with you. . . including me. elvis is an actual simp in this fic, but what's new with my writing? this fic does take place in the 90's. . . so just imagine 60's elvis throughout this fic, because that's exactly what i was doing. | this is part one of a three part mini series. i will be posting all three parts this week, so you will not have to wait a million years to be able to finish it. please please please heart this post, repost it and tell me what you think about it. i love interaction, and this is my first time posting in ages. i'm a little nervous about it.

word count: 5.3k

masterlist | requests are currently closed !

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The bar was hazy with thick cigarette smoke, but there was something special about the way that the neon lights shone through the fog that hung above the mass of grinding bodies. The music pounded away in your ears, and after the round of mixed drinks that you had downed with your group of friends, you couldn’t help but sway your body along with the beat. In a packed bar like this, where everybody was too drunk to notice or too high to care, you were just another somebody. 

That was the draw to nightlife for you. It was a small reprieve, and maybe it made you a bit sick in the head, but you cherished it. No matter how self absorbed and ungrateful it sounded, you missed the days of feeling like a normal person. You missed being able to leave your house in a ratty old t-shirt and shorts without the fear of being plastered all over the front of a gossip magazine looming above your head. You missed going to the grocery store and taking your sweet time perusing the aisles. You missed the way your life had been before the organized chaos. 

People have always paid extra attention to you. You had been the butt of many jokes during your early days in middle school. You were the ugly duckling- nothing but a scrawny little girl that came from an impoverished family. The year you turned thirteen everything changed though. Puberty had hit you like a freight train. Your curves had filled out and your face had lost all of its baby fat. In the blink of an eye all of the girls wanted to be your friends, and the boys that used to tease you were now trying their hardest to get your attention. 

You only got prettier as time went on it would seem. People stopped caring about the unfortunate state of your home life all together, instead focusing on your looks and likeability. School was no longer hell from you, and you entirely had your appearance to thank for it. Becoming a model had happened just as quickly. 

You had been on a date with an ex when you had first been discovered. You remembered that day vividly: the nasty fight during the car ride to the stadium, the overpriced beers as well as the crippling fear that you were allowing a man to emotionally beat you down. You had somehow ended up on the jumbotron, and all you could do was awkwardly smile and wave- blow a few kisses at the camera when it lingered on your face for a little too long. You had laughed it off, assuring your at-the-time boyfriend that it had been some sort of a coincidence. He had been the jealous and possessive sort. A man that worked in the marketing department of one of your state’s favorite beer companies saw you holding the bottle in your hand on the big screen, and the rest was history. 

You felt blessed for your booming career and all of the attention that you had garnered over the last few years, but a part of you missed the days where you could go outside without cameras flashing or people asking something of you. Everybody always wanted something from you. Be it a simple picture, a signature or even a smile- at this point there wasn’t a part of you not owned or wanted by the public. Even other celebrities had an ulterior motive for trying to connect with you. You’d learned your lesson though. Dating was officially off the table. Well. . . dating celebrities, at least. 

“I’m being serious this time, guys.” You tried to reason with your friends, reaching up to tangle your long manicured fingers into your messy updo. “Bad boys are out.” You seriously believed it this time too. No matter how hot, famous or rich you were, men were always going to be trash.

You had always been the type of girlfriend that went out of her way to take care of their partner. You hated drama, so starting unnecessary fights was beneath you. You were trusting to a fault, which had gotten you into trouble more than a handful of times. You had a big heart, and despite the constant disappointments you still believed in true love. You had finally come to the conclusion that the problem was never you. It had always been them. You were self aware enough to know that you had a bit of a. . .type. 

“Bad boys” only wanted one thing from you though. 

They just wanted sex. It had always been that way, even since high school. As much as you hated to admit it, you had never been in a stable relationship, even in the early years of your life before the tabloids kept tabs on your every move. 

You loved sex, but it never led to anything good. The most you got out of it in most cases was nothing but momentary, fleeting satisfaction that only left you feeling more empty than you had been before. You were done with being used to beef up somebody's ego only to be discarded like garbage soon after. 

Your close friend, Veronica, was quick to throw her arm around you, pressing your frame tightly into her side. “We need to find you someone nerdy. Like. . . like an accountant or something.” She snapped her fingers excitedly as though she had just solved world hunger. 

You let out a small squeal, leaning your head back to laugh without restraint. In your inner circle on a night like this? Things seemed to just. . . fall into place. You were happy- obnoxiously so- and you couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else. You were sick and tired of crying over men that didn’t care about you. Especially ones that didn’t feel a fraction of what you felt for them. All that mattered now was the fact that they were playing remixes of all your favorite songs at this particular club and that you had just gotten your nails freshly painted earlier in the day. Your dress fit you like a glove, you were actually having a good hair day without the help of a stylist and the people that you had surrounded yourself with loved you like family. This was your element.

The drinks were flowing, your heart was happy, and you were tired of moping around and feeling bad for yourself. 

An accountant was exactly what you needed. 

“You’re so right! I need a sweet little accountant that I can come home to at the end of a long day. That sounds perfect to me. I need a man that lives a boring life and is more than willing to take time out of his not-so hectic life for me.” You agreed, pressing your cheek against your friend’s in a display of affection before grabbing your drink off of the table. “A toast! To. . .,” You bit your plush bottom lip as you tried to think of the best way to word what it was that you were looking for in a man. “To good guys.” 

“To good guys!” They all chimed after you. 

Your friends were all quick to clink their glasses against yours, happily joining you in downing the rest of their brightly colored glasses of alcohol. 

“Excuse me!” You called out to one of the waitstaff, flagging her down with a wide dazzling smile. 

The scantily dressed woman was quick to make her way over to your marked off section. The owner of the club insisted on putting you and your friends in VIP for ‘your safety’, though you were starting to think that all it was doing was drawing more attention towards your area. The younger woman smiled sweetly back at you, though you weren’t blind enough to not see the way that her fingers were anxiously twitching at her sides. A-list celebrities didn’t frequent clubs like this, so you were sure that she was probably scared out of her mind to do something wrong and incur your (nonexistent) wrath.  

“W-What can I help you with?” What little confidence she had earlier was faltering now as she got closer and closer to you. 

“I want to buy every person in this club a shot of tequila! Top shelf, please. We’re celebrating!” Tonight you were in an especially good mood considering your recent split with your heartthrob co-star. You were finally starting to feel better about it, which was a good sign that you were moving on. 

You and your group’s shots arrived first, but within seconds tray after tray of plastic cups began circulating the bar. You were quick to cheers your friends once again, swallowing back the clear liquor. You had imbibed in a fair bit of alcohol already, so the burning sensation wasn’t as bad as it had been towards the beginning of your girls night out. Despite the slightly numb lips and hazy expression, you didn’t sway once in your heels as you continued to sway along to the beat of the music. You danced like nobody was watching, but little did you know that a certain blue eyed musician had his eye on you from across the club. 

“Compliments of (F/N) (L/N).” The waitress motioned to the tray that she was holding up in front of the brunette’s face. 

For a second all he could do was stare at the drinks, drunkenly trying to remember whether or not he ordered anything. His eyebrows twitched upwards in surprise as the woman’s words finally began to register. Wait a minute. . . who bought him a shot? The name sounded awfully familiar, so he must know the woman somehow. His rings glinted under the colored lights as he reached for the cup, the leggy blonde that had been keeping him company that night following suit. 

“Who?” He asked dumbly, squinting his eyes to follow the direction that the waitress had pointed in. 

“(F/N) (L/N). She’s an actress and model? She bought every-” And before the woman could let Elvis know that you had bought everyone in the entire club a shot he was already throwing the tequila back, tossing the plastic drunkenly back onto the table before pushing the blonde woman’s arm off from around him as though her touch burned him. 

Because he had recognized you the second that he saw you, even from across the bar. You were prettier in person than you were on camera, which was rare in Los Angeles. 

The woman that had once been keeping him company gaped up at the musician, her cheeks darkening with embarrassment as she realized that she was actively being ditched for another woman. In front of everybody that she had come to the club with. 

“Fuck you, Presley!” She screamed after him, but the curse fell on deaf ears as he wove his way in between the writhing, sweaty bodies of dancing patrons. 

He had his eyes glued on one person and one person only. Never in his life had he seen a woman that beautiful before- and Elvis had seen, kissed and fucked his fair share of hot women. He remembered exactly why your name sounded so familiar to him. You weren’t some chick whose feelings he had hurt or someone that his music label had asked him to play nice with. 

You were a fuckin’ Playboy Bunny. 

Your group of friends had stopped talking and had all turned to face him as he approached, their eyebrows knitted together as they tried to figure out exactly who he was and why he was there. Tall and lean, heavily tattooed with dark hair and blue eyes as bright as the morning sky. One by one he watched their expressions shift into recognition. Elvis lifted up a long leg, easily stepping over the velvet rope that had been put up around your section. 

All you could do was watch, wondering exactly why Elvis Presley was approaching you with a smirk on his face. Was there something that you might have missed? You’d never met the man before in your life. You would have definitely remembered if you had. 

He was clad in a black pair of jeans and a white tank top that fit snug enough to show off his nipple piercings. His thick gold necklaces caught the light as he bent down to shorten his frame, smiling directly at you. It was like the two of you were the only ones in the bar. His attention was perfectly undivided. His black hair hung loose in his eyes, undone from its usual updo that he had sported in all of the pictures you’d seen of him in the past. You had to admit though. . . there was something more dangerous about this version of Elvis. He seemed more wild and relaxed. More himself and less of the showman. It made your heart race, and admittedly kept you from shooing him off in the opposite direction. 

Not even ten minutes ago you had sworn off bad boys, and yet here you were, watching with wide eyes as one sauntered right up to you. 

His black boots stopped to rest right in front of your heeled feet, and he took his time looking you up and down, wanting you to see his approval. He wanted you to know just how irresistible he found you. In a club as loud as this one was, you had to learn how to communicate with your body. 

Elvis had been raised in the south by a Christian family, but that didn’t mean that he was always a gentleman. He was far too drunk for that. So instead of thanking you for the shot or trying his hand at flirting with you, he plopped down in the spot beside you and leaned over. 

Your jaw went slack as you felt his warm tongue trail all the way up from the sensitive pulsepoint at your neck to your temple. His nose brushed against your hair as his warm breath fanned over your ear. You could hear his heady breath, and it lit a fire inside of you. Rather than being outraged you found yourself clamping your thighs together in the hopes of creating some sort of friction. He pulled back only to smile drunkenly at you, drumming his tattooed hands against his seat as he waited for your reaction.

He watched you all while knowing that you had to have felt something. Your breath had caught at the sudden action, and he knew it. He saw the adorable flush to your cheeks and the glint in your glassy eyes. A cocky, satisfied huff left him as he leaned back against the leather booth. You, of course, exceeded his expectations when you turned towards your friend and repeated the action. Your group, no matter how prissy they all looked, were all good sports. They howled and cackled as one by one they licked each other’s face, following your lead without question. 

“I’m Elvis.” He called over the music, watching as you gave him a knowing nod. 

You opened your mouth in order to introduce yourself only for him to hold his hand up, giving a dismissive flick of his wrist. “No need. I know who ya are.” He stated with an upturned lip.

His smile was nothing short of goofy, his blue eyes sweet as he looked over your face again and again, almost as though he was committing every detail to memory. There was something about him that just felt. . . different. It felt good. 

“Do ya wanna dance?” He nodded towards the packed dance floor, raising an eyebrow at you. 

Your best friend tensed behind you. “What happened to good boys being in?” She whispered in your ear, shooting you a pleading look. 

You couldn’t help but giggle, waving her off like it was no big deal. “This is just for tonight. We’re only going to dance, alright? Promise.” And with that you stood up, letting him take your hand and pull you out onto the dance floor. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you danced, only that you could feel long strands of your wavy hair clinging to the back of your arms after falling out from its’s updo. You were a drunken, sweaty mess and didn’t care one bit. All that mattered was that Elvis was making you laugh harder than you ever had before. His large hands felt too good on your hips as he swayed you back and forth, pressing you against his thigh. All you would have to do is arch your back just a fraction, and it would be your cunt that he would be leading you to grind against his thigh, not your hips. You should have hated yourself for the thought, but you were too far gone. All you knew was that he was handsome and was looking down at you as though you hung the moon. 

He was so big and warm. Domineering in a kind of way that let you know he would be able to take care of you in the exact way that you preferred. 

Your fingers gently traced a few of the tattoos on his arms as you continued to sway back and forth, eying the colorful, sweaty skin as he continued to wrap himself around you. He smelled like expensive cologne and warm skin- and it took every last shred of self restraint that you had in your body not to bury your nose into his chest and inhale. Being around him was making you lose your mind.

The two of you only left the dance floor to down more drinks and get away from the loud speakers from time to time when you wanted to converse with each other. It was far too loud to have any sort of heart to hearts with him, but he went out of his way to show off his flashy personality to you. 

“I really have to go, Elvis. I’ve got a flight to catch tomorrow afternoon, which means I have to wake up early to pack.” You explained, stumbling outside so that you could wait for the cab that the bar had called for you. 

Elvis had been nice enough to offer to wait with you, not wanting any seedy characters to get any bad ideas. It was nearly four o’clock in the morning, and you didn’t even want to think about the kind of people that might be lurking in the darkness. L.A was a terrifying place to be left alone in. Especially at night.

“The clubs not even closin’ yet though. Why don’t you wait for just one more hour?” He begged, his gold bracelet sliding down to his forearm as he clasped his hands together over his chest. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, the dyed brunette eyeing the adorable way your nose scrunched up as you did so. Yeah. . . he was completely smitten. It was official. 

“I’m serious, Elvis. I have to get home.” You weren’t giving in, no matter how much you wanted to. 

Your friend's words were finally pounding their way back into your head, reminding you that the man in front of you would only break your heart and leave you to pick up the pieces afterwards. Casual sex used to be fun for you, but you were bored with the notion. What you were looking for was someone to settle down with. Elvis Presley definitely didn’t seem like the type. 

“Well where are you doin’ tomorrow? Maybe we can do somethin’ fun.” He needed to see you as soon as possible. He could tell that staying over at your place or vice versa was completely out of the question, so he didn’t even attempt to offer. You were worth the wait anyway, so he didn’t mind taking his time. He could tell that you were old school, and he respected it. 

This way of thinking was completely out of character for Elvis though. The reason why he wasn’t afraid to sleep around and forget about the women that he spent time with was because the two of you were very similar. The musician was a hopeless romantic, and wanted to fall in love more than he cared to ever say. 

If you weren’t in love then you weren’t alive. That was his way of thinking, at least. 

He wanted somebody to share his life with, but he hadn’t met the right person. He had tried his hand at long term relationships a couple of times, but women had a track record of breaking his heart. So he had gotten into the habit of being the break-er and not the break-ee. 

“I’m headed to Mexico for this business trip. If I show up with huge bags under my eyes my manager will not be happy.” You watched as he perked up, your eyebrows raising in confusion. 

“I love Mexico! Where exactly are you stayin’?” 

“Cacún. . .” You replied slowly, not exactly sure whether or not you wanted him to know. There was something about his reaction to the news that made you think that he might try and. . . - no. No way. No normal person- musician or not- would book a last minute flight just to spend more time with you. Stable people’s minds didn’t work like that. 

“Oh, that’s perfect. We’re goin’ to Cancún then.” No hesitation. 

You guffawed, blinking hard at him as you tried to figure out exactly how to handle this situation. You were used to men being forward with you, but this was on an entirely different level. 

“You’re not following me to Mexico,” You told him, reaching out to give his arm a small shake when you noticed the devious smile pulling up at his lips. “Elvis, I’m serious.” 

“Oh, I’m so comin’, no matter how much you beg.” 

The taxi pulled up to the curb before you could say anything else. With a loud sigh you opened the door for yourself, blurting out “no you’re not” as you closed the door soundly behind you. Before you could even blink the man was wrenching the other backdoor open, sliding his way inside. You laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. He had to be playing with you, because there was no way he could be serious. 

“Sir, please wait a minute. He’s not coming with me.” You told the taxi driver before turning to face the black haired man. “Elvis, you are not coming to Mexico. Okay? It’s something that I have to do for work. Now. . . can you please let me go home?” The alcohol was beginning to take its toll on you, and you felt exhausted. Your bed was practically calling out to you. So no matter how charismatic or handsome the singer was, you refused to let him come home with you.

“I’ll get out of the car if you do one thing for me.” 

You weren’t surprised when he asked for your number, and like an idiot you complied, writing the words “don’t call” right above your digits. 

It was only when he got out of the car with a wide smile on your face that you realized how torn you were. Part of you knew that he shouldn’t call, but a large chunk of you really wanted him to despite that fact. 

What you didn’t see was the way Elvis stared after the taxi until it had completely disappeared down the street, and then at the small scrap of paper in his hands. He gently traced his finger over your loopy, feminine handwriting. Eager to get home so that he could give you a lil ring. 

The phone had been ringing off the hook since ten o’clock that morning. One after the other, Elvis had left you voicemail after voicemail. You had half the mind to just rip out the cord and cut your losses, but knew that your manager would have no way to contact you if she needed to. So you put up with the inappropriate amount of calls. 

“Ya did buy me a shot of tequila last night, which I think has to be a sign that I’m supposed to go to Mexico with ya.” 

Beep. 

“Me and my band just finished recordin’ our album, which means that I have way too much time on my hands. Really, you would be doin’ me a damn favor if you let me go with you.” 

Beep. 

“Elvis Presley in Cancún. Elvis Presley in Cancún. Elvis Presley and his weiner are fuckin’ comin’ to Cancún.” His singing echoed around the house. 

Beep. 

“Hola, mi amor-” 

Beep. 

“Cancún~,” You bit your lip to keep your smile at bay as you dragged your heavy silver suitcase down your stairs and up to the front door. “Cancú-” 

“Elvis.” 

“Darlin’!” He called out excitedly as you picked up the phone for the first time that entire morning. 

“Don’t. Come.” You tried using your stern voice, hoping he would finally take you seriously. 

A beat, and then came his answer. 

“I’m fuckin’ comin’.” You could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Don’t.” And with that you hung up, dragging your luggage out your front door and towards the waiting taxi. 

You should have been appalled, but how could you be? Because what if he really did show up? The thought of seeing him again made her palms go a bit sweaty. "U-Umm. . . You can just drop me off at the front. There's no need to try and park with all of that airport traffic."

“Are you looking for someone?” Your friend asked, standing up the tips of her toes so that she could shove her carry-on into the overhead compartment. 

You pushed the sunglasses higher up on the bridge of your nose, leaning further back into your seat as you watched the door to the plane like a hawk. You hated the fact that Veronica was so observant. Well. . . in this case, at least. She could read you like a book. She had already questioned you about last night until she was blue in the face, and the last thing you needed was for her to find out that there was a possibility that he might be following you all the way to Mexico. And why? You still had no clue. 

“Of course not. I’m just eager to lift off, is all. I’m hoping to take a little nap until we get there.” You hated lying more than anything, but you were willing to do anything to keep her from lecturing you. 

She meant well, and you loved her for that. You just couldn’t help but feel guilty for dancing with Elvis last night, even if it had meant absolutely nothing. It had to have meant absolutely nothing to you. The two of you hadn’t even kissed, which meant that you technically hadn’t gone back on your word. Good boys were in. And bad boys? 

They were out. 

The nicer beachside resorts loomed high above the bustling city, their sleek designs and gaudy terraces visible from the lower streets. You had decided to roll down the window of the car so that you could enjoy the warm night air. The smells, sounds, and sights were so different from those that you were used to in L.A. It was a nice change of pace, whether you were here for work purposes or not. All you had to do was play nice with a room full of rich old men and then you’d be in the clear. Your friend had excitedly made plans for the entire weekend, doing her fair share of research to make sure that the two of you had the best time. She’d even called your resort ahead of time so that she could know what kind of food they served. She had originally agreed to come with you right after your bad breakup to keep you company, but what had once been a means to look out for you and offer you support had quickly turned into her hatching a plan to keep your mind off of things. 

The fact that this trip also gave her a means to try and dissuade you from ever talking to Elvis again was just an added bonus. 

“Ronnie, have you ever seen something so beautiful? Look at that.” You pointed out the window, ushering her to lean closer against you so that she could see what you were seeing. 

A crowd of people were dancing amongst each other, string lights swaying softly in the oceanside breeze as they clapped joyously along with the music. You were a stickler for romance films. The cheesier, the better. It was almost as though you were watching one unfold right before your very eyes. 

You continued to point this way and that, your eyes wide as you tried to fully bask in the city all around you. For a second you forgot all about the crazy musician and his threat to follow you to Mexico. It was just you and your best friend spending some much needed time away from the messy city life of Los Angeles. The car began to climb the brick road all the way up to the largest resort, intricate metal lanterns hanging from the large front porch of the building. 

“They have us staying here?” Veronica gaped, her eyes wide with excitement. This was her first time out of the country in ages, and she was planning to pack in as much as she possibly could over the three day weekend. She had been sure to warn you to prepare yourself for a packed itinerary. 

“I had no clue it would be this nice.” You mumbled your reply, reaching your hand out numbly as you watched a few members of the staff pour out from the front lobby. 

The car door was being opened for you in the blink of an eye, your luggage already being carried up and into the building. 

“Miss (L/N) and friend, we’re so pleased that you could bless us with your presence. My name is Oliver and I will be taking care of all of your needs. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything at all.” Oliver looked to be a year or two younger than you, dressed up in a pressed suit and perfectly starched tie. He sounded like he was reading off of a script, eager to please the star and her close friend. 

When you had envisioned Cancún you hadn’t thought of. . . such a fancy resort. Sprawling beaches and family owned restaurants were more your style, but this? You’d happily thank your manager for booking you such a sweet gig. You and your friend would be staying in your own suites on the top floor for free, and all you had to do was sit and look pretty during dinner tonight. Living the life of a celebrity was still new to you, so you had been told that you still had that “small town” charm that people adored so much. You were personable and genuine, which was rare to find in Sin City. Your good looks and sweet attitude was, thankfully, the reason why you were able to live such a lush lifestyle. 

“Thank you, Oliver. If you could just point me in the direction of our suites that would be amazing. I need to get dressed for tonight.” Your white sneakers and yoga pants felt hideously out of place in the large lobby. Men and women in full glamor passed by you and your leisurely dressed friend, causing the both of you to duck your heads down in embarrassment in fear of being perceived. 

“Of course. Here is your key ma’am,” Oliver slid you the golden key with a well trained smile. “And then here is yours.” 

You started to walk off in the direction of the elevator but froze as he called your name once again. 

“Someone delivered flowers for you. I can have them brought to your room as well if you’d like.” The young brunette reached down on the table behind him, placing the intricate bouquet down on the counter in front of you. 

Your jaw dropped as you realized just how expensive something like that must have been, especially to be delivered. Peonies, babies breath, roses- it was huge. You couldn’t think of anyone that would deliver flowers to you. Not in Cancún, at least. 

Veronica elbowed your side gently, eagerly urging you to read the card. 

“It’s from-” You couldn’t help but bite your lip, trying to keep your smile at bay. Tonight was already turning out to be wonderful. . . and you practically just landed. 

That smile, however, was quick to fall off of your face as you read the card.

i wanted to give credit to my amazing beta readers! @meds4beatlemania, @austinsmutler and a special thanks to @memphis-mania. mem literally held my hand throughout the editing process and gave me the confidence i needed to put on my big girl panties and post! are you interested in becoming a beta reader? feel free to message me!

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#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fic #elvis fic #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis imagine #elvis the pelvis #elvis fandom #elvis presley fanfiction #angst with comfort #elvis fluff #elvis angst #foreverdolly #elvis movie #elvis 2022 #elvis baz luhrmann #austin butler elvis #elvis biopic #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x you

[christinesficrecs]

I might be drowning in lost fic requests. 🤦🏻‍♀️ If you can help I would REALLY appreciate it. ❤️

Stiles started dating this really abusive guy, he cut off all contact with the pack, his dad Etc and the guy moves them away (maybe Chicago). Stiles eventually leaves him and goes back home and it turns out the pack and his dad have been trying to find him.

Lost River (never reached the sea) by scribespirare | 13.2K | Mature Three years Stiles has been gone. Three years, and then out of the blue he shows up on Derek's front porch, bloody and bruised and in need.

I am looking for a fic where there's the monster of the week (it's maybe an incubus?) and it shifts to look like stiles. It convinces derek to not turn him into the rest of the pack. Derek agrees just to be able to be with 'stiles.' scott i think figures it out? And tells derek that it would have slowly killed him.

Derek hates touch because of Kate and flinches whenever someone touches him. But Stiles does this thing where he never touches Derek, instead he lets his hand hover around him, allowing for Derek to initiate the contact if he wants to. Oh! And Cora’s alive and I’m pretty sure the one who notices this. She ends up confronting Stiles about it at some point. I know it’s pretty short, just one chapter/ a one-shot, and around 5,000 words. I think, I could be wrong.

i see that you've come so far [just like them old stars] by crossroadswrite | 2.3K But her big brother’s unwillingness to touch anyone, like he thinks he doesn’t deserve it isn’t the only thing she notices. She also notices how Stiles doesn’t touch him. Everyone reaches for Derek in some form or another, but Stiles- Stiles is something different altogether because he reaches for Derek but he never makes contact.

Hi! Could you please help me find this fic where Derek is an alpha but of like the whole town I think? Or something. Stiles keeps getting into trouble or losing control (or something) and he goes to stay with Derek for a few weeks to help him behave/get focused because hes the alpha. Derek helps him focus better on his homework and runs exercises with him to burn off excess energy and misses him when he goes back to his dad's. That's all I remember, sorry its so vague.

Do you know of a fixk where derek and Stiles kill Gerard together but when chris ask them about it they act surprised he did? I dont know anything other than this so sorry

Basically it's young Derek x Stiles, Derek is part of the basketball team and they end up going on like a trip for a basketball game. Stiles tags along and they end up staying at a motel (they share a room). At some point it's Stiles’ Mothers death anniversary and Derek brings him fast food back from his jog. And I'm like 90% certain that there's like a bonfire at the back of the motel and Derek brings out his guitar infront of everyone and starts singing abt his crush on Stiles.

Okay sooo, young Derek x Stiles but the hale family are still alive. There's this whole thing about them both promising to have a starwars marathon. Derek also draws a lot in this sketchbook thing, he's like rlly private abt it but stiles ends up looking in it and finding a drawing of both him and Derek. Then Derek kind of wolfs out? He like loses control a bit and is afraid of hurting Stiles. OH! And then there's another bit where theyre playfighting in the Hales' kitchen and Derek pins Stiles down and stiles gets really embarrassed abt it. And then at the end there's like a really cute line abt their hearts beating as one 🥺🥺

Hey! I hope you or your followers can help me out but I've been wracking my brain on this one for awhile trying to remember this fic where everyone loses their memory of Stiles' existence but this is where I get fuzzy on the details. All I can remember is that Stiles returns to his house and his dad threatens him because he doesn't recognize him and so he ends up at Derek's. IIRC, Derek doesn't actually recognize him either (he might reveal this right away or later?) but helps him anyhow?

Hi! Ive been trying to find this fic, it was a amnesia type fic and I believe Derek went to visit his family who live out of state, he planned on finally telling them about Stiles but hes in an accident, loses his memories, and his family starts trying to set him up on dates(?). I think some of his family were wellknown or famous or someone told Stiles about Derek going out and Stiles just assumes he'd wanted out of the relationship but didnt want to tell him. Its mostly the summary I remember😅

Hi, I'm looking for a fic where young Stiles meets Derek in the woods as a werewolf, helps him get back home, to thank Stiles he writes him a letter and Derek replies that they become pen pals. That's what I remember that's how it starts. thank you!

#sterek fics #ficrecs #lost fic

[alieinthemorning]

Lifetime Contract [Azul Ashengrotto]

Content: Fluff, Reader is a Cat Beastmen, Timeskips, Jade Leech Being a Little Shit

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

One thing you noticed very quickly during your first year as a transfer at Night Raven College is that Azul Ashengrotto was a very fascinating person. Despite the businessman persona he aired, you knew that there was something beneath it. So, you pursed him. 

First, it was simply to satiate your curiosity. Which meant you often found yourself in the Monstro Lounge. 

“Fufufu…it seems something has caught your attention.” Jade commented, glancing in the same direction that you were looking. 

Azul was on the floor today (a rare occurrence). Gracing the people with his presence (conning them out of more Thaumarks).

 “Might I recommend a new drink for you?” Jade suddenly said, drawing your attention away from the silver-tongue boy. “It is from our…secret menu.” 

You smiled. “Yes, I’d like that.” 

You figured Jade out quickly. He was the kind of person to stay around those who he found amusing and can keep him entertained. And he was very entertained by your curiosity. 

So, you let him indulge every once in a while (as long as it was mutual beneficial to you). 

And thus your prey had found its way to you. 

“Ahem…The Vanessa.” 

Your smile slipped into a grin.  “Thank you, Azul.”  

“Yes, well—” You cut him off with a raised hand. 

“I’d actually like to know more about this drink.” You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table, and your chin on your laced fingers. “You’ll tell me, won't you?”

You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he realized that there was no getting away from you. For who was he to deny a such a simple request of a costumer?

Slowly, but surely, did he get used to your presence in the lounge. Your table was always ready, and there was a new drink to try at least once a week. You were sure he was doing this for you, but why? Was it a mutual fascination? Or did he found worth in your intel gathering skills. You didn’t know, but it did unnerve you when he began to seek you out.

And so the hunter became the hunted. 

He greeted you easily, despite the fact that you were hiding away in a tree (Jade obviously had something to do with this). “Might you give me a moment of your time? I’m conducting a… consumer survey.”

You rolled your eyes, ears flicking in annoyance. 

Is this really the best he had? 

“Ah, I also have a sample of a new product. I’d like to get your opinion.” 

You removed yourself from the tree branch, landing effortlessly on your feet. 

“Sample first, questions later.” 

He smiled, and it wasn’t that slimy business smile, but it wasn’t fully genuine. 

To put it simply, it was just a smile. Nothing behind it, nothing in front of it. 

Then a year passed between the two of you playing this game of Cat and Octopus. Which is how you somehow found yourself in Azul’s office the evening before graduation night. A plain paper contract sitting between you. 

Your gaze lifted from the paper, to the man who had issued it. He was leaned forward, chin resting on his laced fingers. He was very intently staring at the contract. 

You knew what he was asking, you also knew why he was going about it this was, but—

“Fine, I accept this contract. However,” You shoved three fingers into his relieved face, “I will win your heart in three years, and if I do this contract will be voided, and we’ll have a relationship with nothing in between us.” You signed the contract, noting the lack of his Unique Magic (It really was a regular contract, huh).

He slumped back in his chair. “I…”

“You just have to trust me.” You paused, “Or should I say invest in our relationship?” 

He chuckled. “I’ve done a lot of investing in this relationship.”

“Then invest in our future together, Azul.” You smiled. “Take this step of faith.”

“After all these years, I never thought that I’d still find the two of you entertaining.” 

You smiled, adjusting your shell necklace. “I’ll be honest, I thought the same. I thought you’d be more interested in what was going on with Ace and Yuuna.”

“Oh, I am interested in those two, quite much. However, there’s a nostalgic charm with you and Azul that I just adore.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying such sweet things on my wedding day. Are you trying to steal me away, Jade Leech?”  

He placed a hand on his chest, looking apologetic (you knew he wasn’t). “I wouldn’t dare encroach on what wasn’t mine. Especially after you worked so hard for his heart.” His hands reached toward you, gently moving the veil over your face. “Enough banter for now, we’ll have all the time in the world after this.”

“You’re right.”

“He might just burst out into tears if we do.”

You blinked, then said. 

“I want all the details after this has all settled.”

“You’ve got a deal, Mx. Ashengrotto.” 

It's 1AM, and I decided to write something from my random thoughts doc.

Enjoy, nya.

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #alie ficlets: twst #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst x reader #reader-insert

[ctitan98official]

@wife-of-gwendolinechristie : Yandere alcina x Reader asks to sleep with her because she is afraid of rain rays pls 🥺

TW/CW: Unhealthy relationships

Okay, so I have a feeling this was more of a request for a comfort fic, but something is wrong with me and I went in a really dark direction. Alcina is manipulative in this and is not a good person. Please take care of yourself and don’t read if this has the potential to make you feel uncomfortable. Reader, as usual, is gender-neutral. Let’s get into it!

Rain pelts against the window panes, each droplet tapping out a dissonant rhythm that sends shivers down your spine. The storm outside rages on, its relentless fury mirroring the unease that swells within you. You need solace, a place where the thunderous symphony can’t reach your trembling heart. And there’s only one person who can provide that sanctuary—Alcina.

It’s been rough since Alcina decided to make you her pet. She’s possessive, not wanting you to interact with anyone but her (Not even the girls). She wants you to cuddle with her and worship her, to provide her with unconditional love.

Sadly, you’ve actually been chained to the corner of her bedroom for a few days now. She did it in response to you trying to run away. Your attempts to escape have also resulted in her dealing harsh blows in frustration. Her frequent punishments have had the unintended effect of causing you to grow aggressive at times, almost feral. Sleeping on the floor has also become a constant and will remain unchanged until you show her the affection she demands. She hates to see you suffer, but it’s her way of teaching and taming you. The constant stress and fear you’ve been experiencing have devolved your brain into something animalistic. While you can still display higher executive functioning, your personality and grasp on the world have fundamentally changed.

You see Alcina as an obstacle you need to overcome, but… When she’s kind and talks to you gently, it makes you feel safe. Though her love is twisted and dark, a part of you seeks her approval and embrace.

Tonight, you wonder if she is able to protect you from the storm that rages both outside and within. You are terrified. Rain and lightning are some of your biggest phobias, even more than Alcina herself. You try desperately to hide your tears, but small whimpers escape your lips. This is scary.

Alcina turns her gaze toward you, hearing your distress. Her golden eyes, usually ablaze with possessive desire, soften at the sight of your apprehensive form. “What’s wrong, draga?” She asks quietly.

With a trembling breath, you look at Alcina, your voice barely above a whisper. “The rain,” You begin, mustering the courage to voice your fears. “The rain… Can I… Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Your body shivers uncontrollably.

A subtle smile plays upon Alcina’s lips, a mixture of affection and greed. Her voice, a seductive purr, fills the room, drawing you further into her web. “Oh, my precious draga,” she says. “How could I deny such a delightful request? Come here, little one.” She smiles and comes over to untie you and pick you up.

Hope blossoms within you as she holds you close, cradling you like a baby.

She shushes you softly and whispers quiet words of affirmation. Despite your terror over the storm, she’s overjoyed. This is the most you’ve let her handle you. You’re so exhausted and afraid that you are allowing her to comfort you. This is different from the fear you display when she strikes or restrains you. This is a deep-seated anxiety, one that is not caused by her actions. You need her now.

Alcina is learning a lot from this experience, understanding how certain variables affect your mental state and how you react in certain situations. She feels satisfaction at having this control over you. Her ultimate goal is for you to trust her implicitly, craving only her presence in your life. She smiles, realizing that this is a good first step.

Alcina brings you over to her grand canopy bed. Its darkened wood stands in stark contrast to the pristine white sheets that lay in wait. She slips you under the covers, providing refuge from the storm outside and the tempest of your own anxieties. She kisses your head gently. “There we go, draga,” She says.

Alcina walks to the other side of the bed and joins you, her presence providing warmth beside you. The bed creaks as she settles in. Her fingers brush against your cheek, the sharpness of her nails a reminder of her untamed desires.

“Fear not, my darling,” She whispers, her voice a luscious blend of adoration. “While I am near, you are safe. The storm may rage, but within these walls, you belong to me and me alone.”

You nestle closer to Alcina, finding solace in her embrace. Her heartbeat echoes in your ear, a steady rhythm that guides you through the turbulent night. With each rise and fall of her chest, you feel an unusual sense of security, as if the world beyond her arms ceases to exist.

As exhaustion overtakes you, your thoughts muddled by the lullaby of Alcina’s hold, doubts creep in. You question whether your need for safety has led you into the clutches of a dangerous obsession. But in this moment of vulnerability, as you lay cradled in Alcina’s arms, regret is a distant notion.

Note: I really like this dynamic. I hope you enjoyed!

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#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 #re8 village #re8 lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #alcina dimitrescu x reader #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil imagines #lady dimitrescu x y/n #angst #angst drabble