#can’t believe I used to do all my work in my room no wonder I wasn’t productive ..

[snaileer]

Wrong Number? Wrong Answer.

It was the usual deal that the Justice League Dark dealt with… way too often honestly.

Initially, it had been just Wonder Woman, investigating a cult that had attempted to abduct her earlier in the month.

Diana had defeated them. Easily. Of course. But upon questioning them, their reasoning had concerned her.

They had attacked her for a ritual to open the ‘Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep’, a ritual which required ‘a blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

Once again, she was being targeted for her parentage. Did it ever end?

Of course, she questioned them further, what other ingredients did they need, what artifacts they would be hurting others to create.

A ring carved from the bone of an unfreed slave.

A crown made of lava untouched by human hands.

And sand directly from the pouch of Dream of the Endless themself.

It was an eclectic collection of items.

And yet, they had told her that only the blade remained to be created.

Again, it was concerning.

So Diana left the fools to be taken care of by men’s authorities, and focused on tracking down just what they were doing and if necessary, how to stop it.

After depleting her academic resources, and her connections within with nothing to show, Diana finally called in her friend through the league, Zatanna.

Zatanna had been frazzled by it, showing up in her living room before they’d even finished the call.

Together they tracked down the cult to Gotham… which was also a problem.

It was the reason why Diana was running through the caves beneath the crime ridden city with one of her closest friends in men’s world and a magician by her side.

All too quickly, they were surrounded by fanatics, each carrying sharp blades solely focused on her.

Working in sync with Batman and Zatanna throwing spells above them, Diana believed it would be a well-won battle.

Until a golden light flashed across the cave, blinding her for a precious second as she felt a sharp sting cut across her arm.

When her vision cleared, her arm was dripping blood and John Constantine stood in front of her.

“Sorry about that, love,” Constantine smirks, “No harm done?”

Diana’s teeth grind together as she turns away from him, fighting her way through more followers. The one who had injured her is nowhere to be seen, and the blade with them.

Even once the rest of the swarm is beaten, their numbers no longer being replenished, Diana does not feel content. The sense of danger lingers.

“Constantine.” Batman growls, “What are you doing in Gotham?”

The Brit rolls his eyes as he lights a new cigarette, “You know I don’t actually have to tell you every time I enter the city right? But besides, that’s news to me, portals are a tricky business, I’m tracking my own problem.”

Batman glares at him.

“Someone stole from me mate. And whatever they stole it for can’t be good, so I’m here ta get it back. Thought you’d be proud of something like that, Batsy, insteada leavin’ it for someone else?”

Batman’s eyes darken, “We’re tracking a group trying to open the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep, is your artifact related to that?”

“Fucking shit it is yeah! Bollocks I didn’t think they’d be using the dream sand for something like that, what sort of mannies are these?!” Constantine exclaims, hastily grinding his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Hn.”

Suddenly, there’s a rattling boom, the ground and walls shaking around them as dust rains down and they are all forced into stabilizing stances.

They barely share a glance before all three are running down the hall to the source, Constantine left scrambling to keep up.

The scene they come to is equal parts confusing as it is problematic.

The cultists are each in states of disrepair, crusting on the edges or yelling at their leader. The leader is the first to notice their arrival.

“You! You say you are a child of Zeus and yet your blood does not work! You lie of your ancestry!”

Diana steps forward, “I do not! I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, grandchild of Kronos! The fault of your magic does not lie with me!”

The leaders face twists, mouth open to shout, but a flash of gold slams into him.

“Z, the book!” Constantine yells, arms outstretched as he flings more spells at the surrounding people, glowing ropes binding each.

“On it! Etativel em dna eht koob!” Zatanna shouts, lifting into the air as a book the leader had been holding flies into her hands.

Immediately she begins turning pages with desperation, “Wohs em eht stsitluc lleps!”

The book flips to a distinct page, and Zatanna’s face drains of color.

“Batman, we need to be careful, this spell looks legitimate, we might still have a risk on our hands.”

Batman hummed, looking at the chalk lines of the summoning circle drawn out before them, drawing Diana to do the same. Looking closely at the artifacts placed at each cardinal direction, including a short dagger with her blood nearly completely dry on the flat of the blade.

Batman moves towards the gathered and bound cultists as both magicians whisper over the spell.

Diana continues to look out on the evidence of the ritual, confusion warring in her.

She lays a hand on the lasso at her side. She knew she had not been lying about her heritage, so then why….

‘A blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

She looks at the bloodied dagger once more. It didn’t make sense, even if they had managed to harm a godly descendent, pure ichor would be gold; and even her blood was simply a humanly deep crimson red, not black; not until it-

Diana lunges towards the knife, fingertips brushing its hilt just as her blood dries a flaky black.

Her body slams into the cave walls in the next second, percussive force rippling through the air.

She crumples to the ground, struggling to lift her head.

White boots pass in front of her eyes.

She watches as they move towards her colleague, her friend, only to be surprised as they stop in front of the cultists instead.

As the air returns to her body, Diana lifts herself up, shaking arms supporting her as the weight of the atmosphere presses down.

She looks at the being, the sight almost making her collapse once more.

Mist curls around its form like a mountain peak, iridescent light glowing near its head, pitch black night covering its body, the pinprick of stars so small you can’t see them straight on, claws like a falcon’s beak: unhidden and meant to tear apart. And more importantly, wrapped around the leaders neck.

““̵̨̮̣̀͊̓Y̷͖̊̒o̸̤͈͍͌̈́͘u̶̗̭̲̍ ̵̬̤̞̀̑ā̴̟r̸̹̝̉e̴̞̦̮͑̍ ̴̣̩̖͑̓͛a̷̮̞͍͊͆͝ ̶͍̀̈́́f̷̖̄ò̸͈̓͝ǫ̷̅̀̔l̶̹̥̹̋͌͠.̴̤̲̈́͋̀”̶̛̫̺̈́”

The voice rattles her heart within her chest. She watches as Batman continues to try and stand.

The cultist struggles against the hand, mumbling screams behind Constantine’s bind. The creature tears it off with one claw.

“We summ-moned-… the king! Pa-pariah-!“

The creatures hand barely twitches, but the cultist breaks off in a scream. She is surprised to note the other cultists react exactly alike. As if linked.

“̵̻͝Ý̷͚o̶͈͝u̷̦̐ ̶̆͜d̶͈̄ǐ̸̢d̵̲̓ ̴͖̽n̴̘̅ȯ̸͍t̵̛̯ ̴̫̐ŝ̵̗u̴̹̇m̶̨͠m̴̡̽o̴̱̐n̵̘͝ ̴̪̈h̴̨̀i̶͝ͅm̸̰͗.̴͍͆”̸͔̔ The creature growls, “À̴̳n̸̛̜d̶͒ͅ ̴̤̃y̸̬͝ǫ̸̒u̵̫͗ ̶̘͛a̴̫̐r̷̠̈e̶͂ͅ ̶͔̋ḽ̶̔ủ̷͜c̷̥̍k̴̲͊ÿ̸̯́ ̶͓́f̷͇͝o̷͎͒ŕ̴͇ ̶͔͝t̶̞̀h̸̲̉ȧ̸̮t̷̩͝.̷͔̍ ̵͙͐I̸͎͌f̶͖͛ ̶̜̇y̵̜͗o̴̩̍ṵ̶͆ ̵̫̈́h̴͛ͅā̴̼d̸̤͆…̵͍̈́i̵͍̐t̸̡̉ ̴̭͂w̷̥̔o̷̟̅u̴̪͂l̸̞̏d̵͚̀ ̵͓̃b̴̢̽e̵̗͠ ̸͕̉m̸̠͆u̶̖͘c̷̯͘h̴̤̎ ̸̥́w̷͚͝o̸͐ͅr̶̦͐s̵̨̿e̸͕͆ ̸̙̑f̴̧̂o̶̱̓ȓ̷̟ ̴̠͗ÿ̸̥́ö̵͜ŭ̶̟.̵͎̉”̶͍̀

The man whimpers under the claws.

"I̴n̷s̵t̴e̷a̵d̸,̶ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̴g̵o̷t̶ ̷m̸e̸,̴I̴ ̶g̵u̸a̷r̶d̴ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶p̸r̸i̵s̵o̵n̶ ̶b̶e̷c̴a̷u̴s̶e̸ ̵I w̴a̸s̴ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸o̴n̸e̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵u̴t̵ ̴h̸i̴m̶ ̵t̴h̷e̸r̶e̴ ̵o̶n̵c̸e̵ ̶m̶o̸r̸e̸.̵”̴ The creature leans into the cultist, arching ever higher, angles sharpening, body distorting, "“̸̝͋a̵̱͋n̶͓͛d̵̘́ ̵̡̍f̷̱͊o̵͚̓r̷̪̎ ̴̭̑a̷̬̓s̷͙̅ ̷͍͌ĺ̵̫o̸̻͆ņ̵̀g̶̚ͅ ̷̬͌a̶̮̿s̵̩͊ ̸̫̌t̸̲̕h̸̢̉e̷̖͗ ̴̰̋c̸̹̀ȍ̸͎s̷̡̃m̵̥̍o̷̜͋s̷̗͐ ̴̜͆e̷̛̙x̸͓̑i̶͉̿s̸̹̀t̵̛̺,̴̡͠Í̷̢ ̷̣̽w̵̠͋i̶̺͒l̴̠͐l̸̮̃ ̴͍͌k̴̰̑e̸̠͐e̷̟͋p̵̲̏ ̸̙̂h̷̘͋ị̸́m̸͕̚ ̶̳̋t̶̡̒h̷̩͆e̷̪͝r̷̒͜e̵̡̔.̵̭͗”̵̮̔

There’s a dull flash as light flashes beneath the cultists skin, beneath all of the cultist’s skin, before they drop to the ground unconscious.

All too quickly, air returns to the room, pressure lifting like a deep breath into the room.

The creature turns, eyes meeting Diana’s for just a second as he turns towards the chalked lines of the circle. Diana lifts herself to her feet, drawing closer to Batman as they both watch him, hesitant.

On the other side of the room, Constantine and Zatanna also struggle to their feet, eyes filled with fear and caution as they take in the scene.

As the creature moves, mist still rolling off him in waves, his features fall away with it, gradually smoothing to a more human visage. It looks… young. Boyish.

Those same white boots crush down on the formed crown, the cooled lava rock crumbling under one step. Next is the ring, held carefully in two hands the creature whispers over it, breathy wind carrying it away as it turns to dust. He holds the blade with one hand, flakes disintegrating off as he lifts it.

Diana’s arm tingles.

Then the creature is standing in front of the last point, holding the small brown pouch of sand with consideration.

Silence reigns in the room.

Constantine, of course, is the one to break it.

“I believe that’s mine, mate,” he cuts in, stance still laden with suspicion.

“Oh?” The creature smiles, almost mockingly as he turns to Constantine, “Is it? If I wasn’t mistaken, this ritual calls for Dream’s sand. Are you Dream of the Endless, little magician?”

Constantine visibly swallows, “I’m not.”

The creature huffs a laugh, fangs glinting in his smirk. He moves swiftly, pivoting on one foot to toss the pouch at Constantine, “Catch.”

Constantine lurches forward to try and catch it, only to find it vanish in the air before it reaches his fingers.

The creature cackles, floating backwards, “What did you do to get your hands on such an amount of Dream’s sand, magician? I’m curious.”

“It was a family present,” Constantine grinds out as he turns back to the gently levitating humanoid form, “You can drop the kid facade by the way, you’re not tricking anyone here looking like that.”

The creature shrugs, “And if I’m comfortable like this?”

Diana steps in to stop Constantine from snapping back, “Who are you, spirit, to be summoned by such a ritual?”

The creature watches her for a beat, “I am Phantom of the Dead City, Protector of infinite realms. They did not bring me here, but I knew who they wished to summon and came because of it.”

Batman steps forward, voice interrogating, “The Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep-“

“Remains sealed. The Tyrant King remains trapped and at rest, do not worry.”

Somehow Diana does not think that soothes Batman, even as a great a warrior as he is.

“Hn.”

“Now, about that spell book,” Phantom turns to Zatanna, waving a hand and the book flies to him. He hovers a hand over it, and Diana watches in fascination as the chalk on the floor begins to burn away, the drawing in the book following.

Phantom looks at her once more, eyes too wise and strong for the age of his face, and then from one moment to the next, he is gone.

The book drops to the floor with a slam, cover open to aged blank pages as the last of the sigil burns away.

Hesitantly, Constantine goes to it, the rest of them following. When Constantine lifts the book with careful hands, they watch another image fade into view on the paper.

A cool colored image of Phantom rising over a city skyline outlined in green against a deep violet sky. Even on paper, his visage shifts constantly between the boyish figure and the ethereal danger of the form he’d appeared in.

Beneath the city lays a large coffin covered in chains.

The lock glows a pulsing toxic green before fading to a steely gunmetal grey and going still.

“Well that was the best encounter I’ve had with a dangerous dimensional figure and I still lost the dream sand.”

Zatanna’s slap echoes in the cave.

#batman #danny phantom #batfam #dc #danny fenton #batman and robin #danny phantom crossover #young justice #bruce wayne #wonder woman #dpxdc #cryptid Danny fenton #John Constantine #Zatanna Zatara #dpdc #dp

[steddiecameraroll]

Robin is gawking at him and he can’t figure out why.

“What??” Steve shrugs.

“Repeat what you just said.”

“What? That I’d kiss Eddie?”

What’s the big deal?

“Yes, yes that.” She narrows her eyes and leans over the counter. “Since when?”

“Since always?” He doesn’t understand what she’s not grasping. “Why are you so surprised? Don’t his lips look super soft?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never once clocked the smoothness of his lips.”

“Oh come on,” Steve scoffs. “You’re telling me after months of hanging out with him, you’ve not once looked at his mouth?”

“Oh I’m sure I’ve looked at his mouth. The man does not shut up, but I can say I’ve never noticed his lips.”

“Whatever, I don’t believe you, but OK.” He shrugs because there’s no point in arguing.

“Steve, I’ve never noticed any man’s lips. Including yours. And the fact that you have is what I’m trying to explore right now.”

“What do you mean?” He feels a weird twinge deep in his gut.

“What do you mean, what do you mean?” Her voice is oozing with disbelief. “How many other men’s lips have you noticed?”

“I don’t know, I don’t keep track.”

Obviously. That would be really hard to do. He’d have to have a notepad or something in his pocket at all times.

“You don’t keep track?” Her eyes look like they’re going to pop out of her head. “Wait, so you’re telling me there’s too many for you to remember?”

“Yes? I mean, even today there was that one customer with that jean jacket and that guy with the colts hat. And it’s only 11.”

“Oh my god.” Her jaw is on the floor.

“What? I don’t get it. We talk about customers we think are hot all the time?”

“OH MY GOD!” She slaps her hand over her mouth.

“What? I seriously don’t understand what’s happening right now.”

“Steve.” She swallows before continuing. “You’re attracted to them?”

“If they’re hot, they’re hot. What’s the big deal?”

“I have NEVER thought a man was hot. I can understand how they’re attractive but me myself and I, doesn’t get it.”

“Never?” That doesn’t make sense.

“Never. I’m a lesbian. That means I’m attracted to women. What you’re telling me, so very nonchalantly, is that you, Steve Harrington, have found men attractive. In fact, you’re telling me you find Eddie Munson attractive. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Not really.” He crosses his arms and cocks his right hip out.

“You’re not as straight as you might think you are, buddy.”

“What?” No.

“You find more than women attractive.”

“But I’d never date a guy?”

“Oh really? Tell me, have you ever thought what Eddie’s like as a boyfriend? Or like maybe how big his dick is?” She sounds frustrated.

“Well…kinda?” He remembers that one weekend he had everyone over to hang out at the pool, and the first time Eddie got out of the water. His swim trunks were wet and clinging to his body, and Steve’s eyes clocked the outline of the man’s dick. He did wonder if the man was a grower as well as a shower. “It was only because it was like right there.”

“You’re a disaster. What about the boyfriend thing?” She tilts her head and shrugs.

“Wait, so you’re telling me you’ve never thought what it might be like if we dated? Not even at Scoops?”

“Oh my god, no! Les-bee-an,” she waves her hands in front of her body.

“Whatever, it’s not like I’ve thought about marrying him or anything. Just kissing and like how sex would work, y’know between us. If he- or if I wanted him to- which doesn’t sound bad, I’ve just never done that so I don’t know if I’d like it. Would he like it?” Steve leans on his elbows over the counter, and almost gets lost in thought over the idea.

“Now you’re having sex with him?” Robin squeals.

“How do I know if I don’t like it if I don’t try it? Maybe I’d love it. This feels like a way for me to find out.”

“I think I need a break. Don’t follow me.” She points at him. “I’m happy you’re exploring this…thing, but I’m not equipped for this. My best friend likes boys.” She shakes her head and walks away murmuring to herself.

“I don’t know that I…,” he trails off when she disappears into the back room.

Steve’s thumbing through one of the movie release magazines on the counter when the bell over the entrance catches his attention.

“Hey, big boy.” Eddie gives Steve a bright smile as he saunters up to the front counter.

“Hey, man.” Steve closes the magazine and stands up straight. Perfect timing. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Oh yeah? Missed me?” He leans over the countertop and looks up at Steve.

Steve rolls his eyes. This goofball. “Yes, I’ve got a question for you. Rob and I were talking earlier and she said she’s never checked out a guy before. That because she’s a lesbian, she’s not attracted to men, at all. But that makes no sense because I’ve found a ton of guys attractive and I’m straight. Maybe I’m not dating these men, but I’d definitely fool around with them. She’s lying right?”

Eddie’s staring at Steve with his mouth slightly agape. The smile is gone and Steve can see more of the whites in Eddie’s eyes, like he’s surprised or something.

“You get it, right? Am I crazy?” Steve’s heart is starting to pick up.

“F-fool around?” Eddie’s voice cracks a little.

“Yeah, like, hand jobs and making out or whatever. Maybe more? I don’t know, I’ve never done more than a blow job but I’ve thought about it.”

Eddie shoots up with a violent cough, like he swallowed wrong. He starts slamming his fist into his chest trying to catch his breath, and Steve stands there watching the guy have a coughing fit.

“You OK?” Should he get Eddie some water?

Eddie raises his finger asking for a second, and keeps slapping his palm against his chest. Steve stands there getting more and more self conscious as each second passes. After a good 20 more seconds Eddie seems to have caught his breath and gives Steve a small smile.

“Just for, uh clarifications sake, did you give the blow job or get the blow job?”

“Both?”

Who only receives and doesn’t pay back? That’s rude.

Eddie huffs and stumbles forward slightly catching his hands on the counter. He nods at Steve, then lets his head dip down, his hair falling down over his face.

“Right, obviously. Did, uh, did you enjoy it?” Eddie’s voice sounds strained.

“Yeah? Who doesn’t like sex? I haven’t done it a lot but yeah. Don’t you like it?” Is he missing something?

“Uh huh,” Eddie flips his head back and looks at Steve. “I like it a lot.”

Steve shrugs, and then watches Eddie drag his eyes slowly up Steve’s body like he’s cataloguing every inch of it. The direct attention catches Steve by surprise, and he can feel a blush spread across his cheeks.

“So, y-you get it, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “I just didn’t know you got it.”

“What? Of course. Doesn’t everybody find all hot people attractive?”

“Some of us,” Eddie’s voice is almost gravelly now, and it’s doing something to Steve’s body.

“Some? What do you mean?”

“Not everyone thinks like we do, Steve. Wow,” he shakes his head. “We. As in, you and I. As in you, Steve Harrington, pretty boy extraordinaire. Ohhh this changes everything.” Eddie murmurs almost to himself. “How did this, uh, topic come up with Robin?”

“We were talking about you, but hold on.” Steve waves his hands around. “Not everyone? You’re telling me that not everyone is attracted to everyone?”

“Me?” Eddie ignores Steve’s question. “What about me? You were talking about me?”

“Yes, I said you had kissable lips but go back. I don’t understand. I can name five guys right now who agree with me. I mean, two of them had girlfriends when we messed around. In fact, Stacy was there one time. She only watched but like, what are you saying?”

“Kissable lips? You think…? Wait, five? You’ve had a threesome?”

“I don’t think it’s a threesome if she didn’t get involved. Right?”

“Riiight, ok wow. So you’re straight, you say?”

“Yes, why is this so hard to explain? I figured if anyone would understand it would be you, because you said you’re bisexual. So you’re actually attracted to men and women as in you’d date them both.”

Eddie blinks at Steve a few times before nodding slowly. “Right, cause that’s what that means. Um, is Robin still here?” Eddie’s looking around the store now trying to find the woman.

“No, she had the early shift.”

“Ok, well, um so I’m gonna go home and blow my brains out, but uh if you want to…,” Eddie taps his fingers on the counter. “If you want to come over later and find out how soft my lips are, let me know.” He slaps his hand in the counter, and turns away heading toward the door without glancing back at Steve.

“Um, OK.”

“See ya, Harrington.” Eddie throws his hand over his head and pushes himself through the exit.

Steve shrugs and scoops the magazine back into his hands. Maybe he’ll get to see how soft Eddie’s lips are around his dick.

#steve harrington is a disaster #steve naked in bed next to Eddie while hes panting and trying to catch his breath: I gotta tell Rob I liked it #Eddie face palm groan #they’re two months deep before steve realizes he’s not straight #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddiecameraroll posts #my writing #steddie ficlet

[6ebe]

Heartbroken: I miss the library

#also this was the messy favourite library I’ve been to this week but the pics of me are cute 🤷‍♀️ #*least favourite #my sister asking to meet in the afternoon and then delaying an hour has rly undermined the flow of my #day ngl 😭😭😭 #I finished seeing a friend at like midday then I could have done my regular midday to 6pm in the library bUT NO 😞 #I’ve only read 28 pages and I feel kinda lethargic and low this isn’t the best #can’t believe I used to do all my work in my room no wonder I wasn’t productive ..

[eddiesxangel]

Fool Me Once | Eddie Munson x Reader

Anonymous Asked: Eddie being your first everything and first boyfriend and reader is like kinda awkward or something. Then Eddie gets really drunk and gets home to reader and starts yelling at her saying like “You’re only dating me because you don’t want to be a sad loser virgin.” and she gets really sad because she genuinely loves him so much and she starts thinking that he doesn’t love her at all… Then maybe the day after he can’t find reader anywhere and maybe she’s like with robin just crying her eyes out.

AN: IDK IDK it’s my first angsty thing I’ve done hope it’s ok 🫣

Cw: angst, hurt no comfort. Small bitty smut. Use of pet names, one use of reference to reader as “my girl”

“I love you, god, I love you” Eddie slowly pumped his swollen cock in and out of you.

You’ve never felt this wave of pleasure before; no wonder everyone was so hyped about sex.

“Fuck you’re so tight.”

“Baby, please.” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but the feeling in your lower stomach was starting to build more and more and more until! Euphoria. Euphoria fuelled your body. The wave of pleasure that Eddie just granted you felt indebted to him.

“I love you,” you sigh as your body melts into your boyfriend.

You’ve been with him for almost six months and finally felt ready to give himself to him. You hadn’t slept with anyone until now, and you were so happy you waited. You never felt so close, so in love, so unbelievably happy in this moment. Life was amazing; nothing could ever break this feeling you have.

Ring ring ring

You were abruptly awakened by the sound of your phone ringing. You were fast asleep, and now feeling disoriented, you looked at the clock. It was already 3:38am. You wondered who could be calling you at this late hour. Maybe it was an emergency? Your heart racing, you rushed over to the phone in a state of panic.

"Hello?"

"You little slut"

"Eddie?"

"Who else would it be? Are you expecting a booty call? another guy you want to fuck?"

"I don't understand? What's wrong."

“What's wrong? I'll tell ya what's wrong! You’re only with me, so you’re not some loser virgin, that’s what! Do you think all the guys will want you to know that your cherry is popped? Well, guess what, honey? Now you're just a sad little whore.” He slurred.

“Wha-“

“You think you’re hot shit now? Getting with the freak of Hawkins? Gonna brag about how you fucked the freak?”

“Eddie, what are you talking about?” your voice wobbled.

He was obviously drunk out of his mind, but as they all say, drunk words are a sober man’s thoughts.

“I know how this is going to go… well, not if I beat you to it.”

“I don't understand?”

“I don't understand?” He mocked you in a high-pitched voice. “I’ll tell you what I’m talking about!” He yelled, and you cowered. He didn’t care. His voice got louder and louder. “You were a sad loooooser virgin before me! And now you’re just a sad loser who fucked the freak,” he laughed. He actually laughed.

"Eddie-"

“So we are don-”

You hung up the phone before he could finish his sentence.

You couldn't believe this was happening? You gave Eddie everything. You thought he was your everything up until this point. You slept with Eddie for the first time a week ago. Things were good, great, even. Until he went to the hideout tonight without you.

You stayed up the rest of the night because you were in tears about what Eddie said. None of this makes any sense? You always loved Eddie, and you thought he loved you back? How could he be so cruel?

You were woken up from your daze by a knock on your apartment door. You stumbled out of your room, still in your sleep shirt, with puffy eyes from crying all night. Robin was here to pick you up for work.

"Good Mor-" Her smile dropped along with the cup of coffee she was handing you as she saw your appearance. "Oh my god! What happened?" she rushed inside to wrap her arms around you.

"Eddie. He-" You could hardly get the words out. You just crumpled into a ball on the floor and sobbed pathetically in front of Robin.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch" She let you cry into her on the floor. "Come on, you need to get out of here. Get changed. We are calling in sick, and we can return to my place."

Eddie woke up the morning after with a terrible hangover. It was already 12:35pm, and he couldn't remember how he got home. He suddenly felt an intense wave of nausea, which prompted him to hurry to the bathroom, where he vomited uncontrollably.

After the fifth shot, things in his memory become a little hazy. He was pretty hammered by then, but he still kept drinking with the boys. He vaguely remembered Jason being at the bar and making some leud comment about you, but other than that. Nothing.

He stumbled over to his answering machine to find it empty. That's weird? You always call him before your shift, and at least try to catch him on your lunch break. Today was Wednesday, right? You always work the morning shifts today.

Eddie tried calling your number, but he had no luck, so he tried calling your work, and when they said you called in sick, he got worried. So he tried your number again, and it still went to voice mail. Maybe you were sleeping? He tried calling back to see if Robin might know more. But when your annoyed coworker picked up the phone to tell him Robin also called in sick, he knew something was up.

Eddie rushed to his phone book to find Robin's number and called it. he waited for four rings until...

"Hello?"

"Hey! Rob it's Eddie, have you-"

"We are not speaking to you."

"We? Who's we?"

But it was too late. All he heard was the sound of the dial tone.

He tried again, no answer this time. He tried once more before getting pissed and decided to just go over to her place because what the fuck?

When Eddie got to Robin's, he pounded on the door like the pounding going on in his head.

"Robin! Open the door, please."

The door finally swung open to a very angry-looking Robin standing before him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Munson?!" She stepped outside and closed the door behind her so he couldn't come in.

"Robin, I'm extremely hungover and do not have the patience for your riddles. Do you know where my girl is or not? I'm worried sick."

"Oh, you can relax now since she is not your girl anymore, buddy." she poked his chest roughly. "you made that abundantly clear last night.

"Last night? I don't remember a thing from last night!"

"Well, think harder because she has been in there sobbing her eyes out from your little phone call."

"Phone call? What pho-" Then it all came rushing back to Eddie. It hit him like a Mack Truck.

"Yo Munson, where is that little whore of yours? Is she usually dangling off your arm like your little pet?" Jason snorted. "I bet she's off sucking another guy's cock; realized what a loser you are."

Jason didn't say much more to antagonize Eddie and get in his head, especially with the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

How could he be so stupid?

"Robin, oh my god, I fucked up. I fucked up big. Let me apologize."

"No. not now." She's a mess, as you can imagine-"

Robin was interrupted by the creek of the front door opening.

There you stood, looking as small as ever. Your eyes are still puffy, and your hair is a mess in your pyjamas at 1:30 in the afternoon.

"Baby, I-"

"Don't!" you cut him off, and Robin leaves to give you two spaces. "Don't you dare come here and think you can just take back what you said to me!" You had done a lot of crying; your anger was showing through.

"You don't understand, Jason was-"

"Jason?! What the fuck does Jason have to do with this? You hurt me, Eddie! I gave you everything! And then you throw it back in my face, accusing me of sleeping around? Are you insane? I've been in love with you for the last year and give myself to you, and you just throw that all away because of Jason Fucking Carver?"

"Baby, please, I'm so sorry; I'll do anything!"

"You've done enough." You turn and slam the door. That's it. You were done. Your heart felt so heavy… like it was just smashed into a million pieces. You were so close to caving when you saw the look of sorrow in those puppy dog eyes. But he had hurt you so bad you couldn’t believe he felt an ounce of pain he had inflicted upon you.

You and Eddie were officially done.

You have been radio silent. You were held up in your room, and you refused to do anything other than go to work.

Eddie called you excessively. It was every day, multiple times a day. His messages made your heartache as you played them back. You could hear in his voice how broken he was. He had fucked up so bad you didn’t know if you should give him another chance. For two weeks, you refused to answer your phone. You were so sick of it ringing you eventually took it off the line.

Eddie did everything he could think of to try and win you back. He sent you flowers to your work every single shift. He called, wrote love letters, and just needed you to speak to him. He was a desperate mess without you. Eddie’s heart, like not, was ripped into shreds, and it was all his fault.

You’ve been in his life since high school since he met you in hellfire freshman year. Then, once you finally confessed your feelings for one another, he couldn’t believe his luck. You said you wanted to be with him, that you wanted him to be the only one you give yourself to. He never thought that he would be so lucky... And here he was, shooting himself in the foot. He even tried to go to your apartment a few times. But you would never answer the door. He would leave a note each time he showed up unannounced. It would say how sorry he was and how much he loved you, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to believe him.

The slurred words repeatedly played in your head, and you couldn’t make it stop. No matter how much he apologized, nothing he could say could make you forget. Your chest felt like it had a fifty-pound weight sitting right on your heart. Your eyes were permanently swollen from the continuous crying you couldn’t seem to stop. He had stolen your heart and then stomped on it until it seized to beat.

The first month after the breakup was rough, but avoiding Eddie seemed to be easy enough. He eventually got the message by month two and stopped trying altogether.

As time went on, you slowly started to heal. Eventually, your constant thoughts about Eddie subsided. Eventually, they stopped. You never thought you would get over the hurt, but the distance helped. You were getting on your merry way by month three. Finally, feeling like yourself again, eating regularly, sleeping regularly. You hadn’t heard or seen him, and you were finally freed from the prison sentence that was Eddie Munson.

Time spent with your friends and family was exactly what you needed. Even though Robin saw Eddie regularly, she never forgave him for what he did to you. Their friendship was strained, which strained his friendship with Steve as well as Nancy. They wanted to take his side, but once they heard what he had said to you, they couldn’t simply look the other way. So you would hang out with them when Eddie wasn’t there and vice versa. They made sure you never had to encounter one another for the time being. However, it was getting more and more difficult to have two separate schedules to appease you both.

You were to go to Steve’s for dinner with everyone, pizza and movie night. When you arrived, everyone was tense. Lines got crossed, miscommunication ensued, and as you walked through to the kitchen, he was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water in his hand, almost slipping from his grip as his Bambi eyes widened at the sight of you.

“Oh shit!” You hear Steve curse when he realizes the mistake that has been made.

“I’m going to go.” You turn and sprint to the door.

“Not wait!l You can hear Eddie shuffle off the chair behind you, but you refuse to look back.

“Please! Wait!”

Threatening tears sting your eyes, and you rush out the front door.

“Sweetheart, wait.” You feel his hand hook your elbow as your body is jerked in the opposite direction in which you’re running.

“What!” You yell, but then you see his eyes. You really look at him for the first time in three months. He had bags under his eyes, and the dark circles extenuated the deep chocolate of his eyes.

“I-I uh,” he lets out a deep breath, “I wanted to say I’m sorry I’m so sorry. I was so god damn stupid, so so stupid, the dumbest guy on the planet. I can’t believe I fucked this up so badly; I love you. I love you so much. I can’t do this anymore without you, baby. Please.” He was on his knees, begging, literally on his knees, grovelling.

“Eddie, get up.”

“No, I don’t deserve it.” He was so pathetic, but he didn’t care. “I love you, please, just please. I need you in my life.”

“I don’t know Eddie…”

“So that’s not a no?!” He popped up like an excited little bunny, the silver oh hope he needed to get by.

“Eddie…” you sigh.

“No, no, you said maybe! You don’t know. You haven’t decided. Please, baby, I love you.”

“This is too hard.” Your lip wobbles as you try walking away again, but he interlocks your hand with his.

“Please, can I at least just hold you?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You let your hand slip from his grip, and he unwillingly let go.

Eddie felt you slipping through his fingers, literally. The hope he had moments ago was gone.

“I’m sorry”

“So am I…” without another look back, you walked away.

#Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine

[moonstruckme]

Hiiii!I hope your doing great I saw your requests just opened and I was wondering if you would mind doing a poly emt marauders with a reader that’s in hospital and they don’t know until they’re like bringing in someone in or something and their like why didn’t you tell us and she’s like oh cause I didn’t want you to worry.Something like that if not it’s fine have a good day!!!🌊

Thanks for requesting gorgeous! Not super sure if this is accurate since I don’t think paramedics usually spend much time inside the hospital but oh well haha. Hope you have a good day too! <3

cw: hospital/emergency room, mention of broken bone

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 827 words

You’re just on your way out of A&E, feeling sore and shattered and more than a little sorry for yourself, when someone says your name. With an odd mix of relief and trepidation mingling in your chest, you turn. 

Sirius makes it to your first. He takes your face in his hands, eyes scanning it over thoroughly before starting to make their way down your body. “Baby, what’s happened?” 

“Hey,” you say, “what are you doing here?” 

“Um, no.” James gives you a funny-looking smile, amusement tangled up with worry. “It’s fairly normal for us to be here, what are you doing here?” 

“I, um—” 

“Idiots.” Remus bypasses them both, taking your injured hand gently and holding it up where your other boyfriends can see it. “What happened here, lovely?” 

“I broke my finger,” you admit. 

Sirius looks devastated, though with the splint binding your two fingers together you thought it was fairly obvious. “How?” 

“Shut it in my car door.” 

James winces and Remus tsks compassionately, turning your hand so he can see the injured digit from another angle. 

“How long have you been here?” he asks.

You shrug, not quite looking at any of them. “I had to wait a while. A few hours.” 

Remus’ look lets you know your sheepishness isn’t without good reason. “Did you drive yourself like this?” 

You nod meekly. 

“Angel!” James wraps his arms around you, tucking your head underneath his chin, and you go happily. You’ll take his mollycoddling over Remus’ reproachful stare any day. “Why didn’t you call us? I can’t believe you had to sit here all by yourself.” 

“I knew you were busy at work, and I didn’t want to worry you.” Now Sirius is glaring at you, too. You snuggle further into James’ embrace. “It wasn’t so bad.” 

“Did they have to set it?” Sirius asks. 

Your face heats. “Yeah. It was pretty weird-looking when it first happened.” 

James makes a pitiful whining sound. “Poor love.” 

“How long did they tell you it’d take to heal?” Remus’ voice sounds somewhat gentler now. He finally relinquishes your injured hand to Sirius, who starts turning it about and inspecting it in the same manner, like the doctor who splinted it for you might not have done a good enough job. 

“Six to eight weeks,” you say glumly. It already feels annoyingly constraining not being able to bend either of those fingers; you’re not sure how you’re supposed to deal with it for weeks on end. 

The boys exchange a look, and James drops the protective circle of his arms from around you. “I’m going to go find Amelia,” he says, “see if she’s on break.” 

You clutch at his shirt with your good hand. “Don’t leave me,” you whisper. 

Your boyfriend smiles, dropping a kiss on your head. “Sorry, lovie.” 

“I think we ought to feel insulted,” Sirius comments as James walks away. Remus only shrugs. 

He reaches for your face now that it’s not hidden under James’ chin, wiping frownily at something on your cheek. 

“Are you feeling alright now, dove?” he asks, and you veritably liquefy at the tenderness in his voice. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You shrug one shoulder lightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, but it really wasn’t awful.” 

Sirius gives your wrist an admonishing little squeeze. “You have tear marks on your face,” he contradicts you softly. 

“Oh.” You run a finger under your eyes, feeling your face heat. 

Remus tuts and lets his hand against the side of your neck, thumb stroking at your jaw. “We’re only on shift for another hour,” he tells you. “James is finding our friend Amelia so you can stay in the break room with her until we can come back and get you, okay?” 

You shake your head, and his stare hardens but you say anyway, “I don’t need to be babysat. I can get home on my own.” 

“You shouldn’t be driving after having anesthetic.” 

You narrow your eyes. “Wouldn’t they have told me if that were the case?” 

“We don’t want you driving with a numb hand,” Sirius clarifies. When you turn your attention to him, he gives you a stern look. “You should have called us in the first place. Just let us do what we can for you now, okay?” 

You sigh in resignation just as James comes up behind you again. Seeing as no one has taken over hug duty, he wraps both arms around your waist, setting his chin on your shoulder. 

“Okay,” you tell Sirius. 

“Oh, excellent. All on the same page, are we?” James turns his head to smooch your cheek. “Knew you’d come around, angel. Amelia’s ready for you, so you can hang in the break room until we get back.” 

“Is she going to baby me too?” you joke, letting him steer you towards the hallway. 

“Probably not,” Sirius says, “but don’t you worry, sweetness. We’ll make up for that when we get you home.” 

#emt!marauders #emt!marauders x reader #marauders au #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders hurt/comfort #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders blurb #poly!marauders oneshot #poly!marauders one shot #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #tw hospital #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom

[tender-rosiey]

Could you please do husband sukuna?

rhymes — sukuna x f!reader

a/n: don’t worry I will post my own “GOJO IS BACK” drabble later but let’s have some husband + dad sukuna first

“you.”

“y-yes, my lord?”

“where is y/n?”

“in the m-main bedroom, my lord.”

“hm,” sukuna hums as he walks towards the bedroom. he hears squealing, giggling, and cackling from the inside.

just what the hell is being done in his bedroom?

raising an eyebrow, he kicks the door open to reveal both you and his son jumping on the queen sized bed you both sleep on.

“little bunny foo foo jumping through the forest!” you sing and your son giggles, jumping to your rhythm. you take notice of your husband’s arrival and leap at him, “welcome home!”

he is annoyed, but he catches you with a grunt, nonetheless.

“what’re you doing jumping on the bed I made the servants make especially for us so it suits your peculiar tastes?” he grumbles.

you shrug with a smile, “our dear son wanted some time to unwind and who am I to say no to him?”

“you’re his mother. you should have more resistance to his ‘cuteness’ than this; he will grow up to be a king,” he concludes and your son ignores him, still jumping on the bed.

you giggle, “and that’s why I am the fun parent, my dear husband,” you sigh softly and pull him down to press a kiss on his cheek, “I missed you.”

“do it properly,” he says and pulls you up to him and presses a scandalous kiss on your lips. you smack his shoulder lightly after he lets go and he merely chuckles.

“stop doing that in front of our son!”

sukuna smirks and you simply roll your eyes.

“mommy, look I am flying!”

“yes I know, sweetie; that’s awesome!”

“mommy, look I am a superhero!”

“I know, love; you’re the best superhero,” coo at your son who is still jumping on the bed.

your husband just looks at him and wonders how the hell does he get the energy.

personally, you have no idea, but something tells you it’s the genetics from your dear husband who is also the king of curses.

sukuna huffs and pulls you by the waist to him, “you keep spoiling him, but you neglect me?”

“I spoil you both and you know it.”

“do you now?” he challenges and you look at him blankly.

“sukuna, i need to go to work,” you mumble.

“no.”

“no?”

he pulls you closer and nods, “you will stay here til I have had enough of you.”

“BUT YOU NEVER HAVE ENOUGH AND I CAN’T STAY CUDDLING WITH YOU! WHAT ABOUT MY JOB?!”

“you’re married to the king of curses; that’s the last thing you should be worried about,” he deadpans.

“that has nothing to do with spoiling me; you’re just weak-willed,” he grins and you think that, maybe, kicking him in the nuts won’t be so bad.

your son can live without sibling; it will be okay.

you quip, “then how about the time I got you breakfast in bed?”

“the chef was the one cooked it; you only delivered it to my room.”

“why don’t you believe that I cooked it?”

“cause your cooking is awful; it’s probably the only thing close to a poison that could actually kill me.”

you and your son gasp, but your son is the one to retort to his father, “mommy cooked it all by herself! you ungrateful old man!”

you’re about to scold your son to not insult his father but to your surprise, your husband is one step ahead of you.

however, you would’ve preferred if he didn’t even act cause the moron pushed your son off the bed.

your son screams before falling off and hitting the ground in a way that was far from harmless. slowly, his cries grow and he starts wailing and sobbing.

sukuna smirks, “no more monkeys jumping on the bed.”

“SUKUNA! HE IS CRYING!”

“he is my son; he can handle it.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @luciferspen @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will rat you out to gojo

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fluff #sukuna imagine #jjk x y/n #jjk oneshot #jjk imagines #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x you #sukuna ryoumen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk ryomen #jjk #jjk x reader

[chaotic-birds]

be with you || j.pt

Jason wakes up in the middle of the night and you're not there.

🌙 Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader (gn)

🌙 Genres/AUs: Fluff, (emotional) hurt/comfort, established relationship

🌙 Warning(s): mention of kidnapping

🌙 Word Count: 1.1k

🌙 Author's Note: I have so many Jason Todd fic ideas 😵‍💫 For now, I decided to just write this. I normally don't post such short fics, but I want to get used to doing so. Sometimes I just wanna write without thinking of intensive plots 😪 That being said, please enjoy this little fluff piece! Sometimes, we just need some fluff in our lives. Also, this is my first Jason fic after a few years so… 😬 (im a lil nervous)

masterlist

When Jason turns to his other side to pull you against him, his eyes fly open.

Your side of the bed is empty.

And cold.

Which means it’s been a while since you left.

You left.

Did you leave or did someone take you?

Jason’s distressed eyes scan the bedroom. There’s no sign of a struggle. Plus, he would at least hope he’d wake up to the commotion if something like that happened.

But if you didn’t get kidnapped, where did you go?

Worry fills his chest and his heart pumps faster at the influx of questions in his head.

All the doubt about whether he’s making you happy clouds his mind. Had he said something yesterday that had upset you? Are you not happy with him anymore? Did someone better come into your life?

Jason groans and rakes his hands through his hair, tugging roughly at the ends to feel something other than uneasiness.

His hands fall to his sides when he sees your belongings at your vanity.

That’s a good sign, right? Maybe you didn’t leave him after all.

Jason slides off the bed and heads out of the bedroom.

“Babe?” he calls.

There’s no answer.

He wanders to the bathroom. Empty.

He goes to the living room. Empty.

Finally, he goes to your home office.

You’re sat in your chair with your headset on, fingers clacking against the keyboard.

The heavyweight he had put on his shoulders instantly lifted. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He takes three large steps before he encloses his arms around you from behind.

You yelp, jumping and hitting your head against his jaw.

He grunts at having bit the inside of his cheek in the process.

Although your arms are glued to your sides, you tilt your head and lift a hand as high as it can go to remove your headset.

“Jay?” you question. “Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet.”

He shakes his head and nuzzles his face against your neck more.

You lax in his arms, rubbing along his forearms and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Why are you awake then?” you wonder after a while.

“You weren’t in bed,” he mumbles.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I forgot I had to finish something for work.”

“But it’s half past three. Can’t it wait?”

“Sadly, no,” you sigh.

Carefully, you try to pull apart his arms to free yourself. Jason refuses to let you do so.

“Baby,” you laugh softly when he holds you tighter. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be done in a bit.”

“No,” he grumbles.

Knowing he won’t give up, at least not easily, you nod. “Alright then. Should I bring in another chair for you?”

Jason shakes his head and finally lets go. He slides your chair back slightly and sinks to the floor in front of you.

Your legs part when he makes a home between them, wrapping his arms around your hips and resting his head on top of your thigh.

“Comfy?” you ask with a small smile, slightly amused.

He simply hums and closes his eyes.

Your gaze lingers on him before you focus on your work once more. You hurry more now, wanting to get back to bed with Jason.

A few minutes have passed when Jason speaks again.

“I-I thought you left me,” he whispers.

Your hands pause in their movement.

“Oh Jace,” you begin gently and place a hand against his cheek.

His eyes flutter open at your touch. His blue eyes are filled with worry and fear.

“I would never leave you.”

His eyes move between yours, trying to find a reason not to believe you. There’s that rotten side of him that tells him he doesn’t deserve to have company. That it’s inevitable for him to be alone.

“Unless you want me to,” you add.

He shakes his head aggressively. “Don’t say that.”

You smile softly at him. “Then it’s a done deal. You’re mine until the end of time.”

Jason cracks a small smile at your words, lifting his head.

“I like the sound of that,” he says.

Your grin grows. “I do too.”

Jason leans up, and you meet him halfway for a tender kiss.

“I’ve still got more to do. You want to go to bed now?” you ask once you pull away.

“Nope, I’m staying,” he replies, resting his head back on your leg.

His tone sounds lighter now, making your heart warm. Although you love all sides of Jason, this may be your favorite one.

Happy. Soft. Vulnerable.

After forty more minutes, you finally finish.

Jason has fallen asleep and has filled the room with his light snores. Some of his hair lays on his face, some of it slightly ruffled from sleeping in the bed earlier.

Cute.

You bring a hand to his hair, carding your fingers through his soft locks. You scratch at his scalp gently to wake him.

His eyes open, drooping and groggily.

“I’m done, let’s go to bed now,” you say.

He nods and slowly stands up from the floor. He sways a little on tired legs.

“Come on, sleepy head,” you tease lightly and grab his hand.

He lets you guide him back to the bedroom. You sit him down on the edge then gesture in the direction of the bathroom.

“I need to pee; you gonna come with me or will you stay here?” you question.

Jason frowns but nods. “If you take longer than five minutes, I’m coming in.”

You laugh and kiss the crown of his head. “If you say so.”

You know he’s being honest so you rush. Luckily, you make it in time for him not to come get you.

Jason hasn’t moved from when you left. He’s staring at the doorway, feet thumping rhythmically against the floor.

“You’re so needy tonight,” you observe and climb into bed. Jason scoots back until he’s beside you.

“I just miss you,” he sighs, pulling you against him like he originally wanted to do.

You lean back against his chest to feel him more.

“I’ve missed you too, Jay,” you reply.

There's been a rise in crime lately, which resulted in Jason being out in the field more than usual. However, it feels as if there’s a break and you and Jason are making the most of it. You’re sure he will be summoned again soon.

Jason snuggles your body more—if possible—and kisses the back of your head.

“We’re so sleeping in today,” he mumbles, a slight groan accompanying his words.

You giggle. “I can’t protest that.”

“Hm, good,” he says. “Goodnight, baby.”

Smiling, you echo, “Goodnight, Jay.”

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

#jason todd fanfic #jason todd fluff #jason todd hurt/comfort #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you

[love-that-we-were-in]

betting on all three for us two

pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: you think you like being a little more friendly and a little less competition with luke castellan this year. a sequel to this fic word count: 3.1k warnings: none

author's note: frat luke my dearly beloved loser son who studies pre-med this is for you you know who you are i love you

1. 

The fall semester comes at you faster than you’d like, this rapid change from a golden summer to the crisp air of being back on campus. You’re rooming with someone from an old anthropology elective you took, Silena finally moving into her sorority house. It should feel weirder, how everything has changed since spring break. 

You take the opportunity to build new habits. Early runs, no caffeine after 2pm. Little things that make the day go a tiny bit faster, building blocks to fit around your class schedule. Silena schedules weekly lunches for the three of you and there’s this gravity to it all that you want to study. 

It had been nice to be home for a few months. Your mom had missed having you there, being able to show you the new flowers she planted, how the lemon tree in the yard is twisting weirdly. Board games and family dinners and friends who never left your town. Being back home was resetting. Being back on campus was restarting.

Lee catches you as you leave the gym, offering to walk you to class if you’re heading in that direction. You smile, telling him that you have a late start and pretend he doesn’t frown when your phone buzzes. He mentions that he’s thinking of starting a study group for one of your classes and you tell him you’ll think about joining. 

While he heads towards the main building, you make your way to the campus coffee shop - caught behind the early risers desperate for something to get them through their first lecture of the day. 

“Can I get a flat white and an iced americano with caramel to go please?” You smile at the girl working the counter, stepping aside to glance at your watch.

You run through your schedule for today, ignoring the text that comes through. You know exactly what it says, the same thing every morning, and you don’t even bother to roll your eyes at this point. 

“I can’t believe you ignored my text,” Luke says when you reach the courtyard between the library and the medical building. “Not even a flame emoji.”

You stop in front of him, drinking in the jeans and sweater combination he’s settled on today. It’s a really nice sweater, dark blue and a little baggy. You wonder how quickly he’d notice it going missing. Probably not as quickly as he’d notice the stupid hat he’s wearing go missing. His backpack leans against the bench, pristine.

“No one uses those except you,” you shake your head, handing him the iced drink. “What time does your lecture start?” 

Luke tells you as if he really needs to. It’s this thing you’ve started doing since the semester began, acting like you don’t know his schedule as well as your own. As if the both of you haven’t fallen into this routine in just a few weeks. Like it’s not a highlight of your day. 

Clarisse thinks it’s adorable. Chris thinks it’s hilarious. You think it’s nice to have someone to share your free time with, beyond whatever else you and Luke have. It had been a fear of yours, when Silena mentioned not sharing a dorm with you, that you would fall to the sidelines. That life would come with these new priorities for everyone and you would only be fourth or fifth on their lists, too cemented in the day-to-day that you’d be forgotten.

Morning coffee with Luke stops that fear. 

“Did Silena tell you about the party on Friday?” 

“I have a study group in the afternoon,” Luke says, swirling his plastic cup around so the ice clinks together. “If I do go, I’m showing up late.” 

“Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for you there, Castellan.” 

He laughs and it’s like summer again. There’s something insane about hearing Luke laugh like this, unbroken and loud, nothing like it had been over the phone while you were back home. 

“You’ve got dinner with Silena and Clarisse tonight, right?” He asks, swinging his bag over one shoulder. You throw your empty cup into the trash can as you both start walking. “Is there any point in asking if you want to come round after?”

You knock his arm with your shoulder, laughing, and, instead of feigning hurt like usual, Luke just takes your hand in his, the skin a little colder than you expect. Gazing down at your linked hands, you bite your lip before sighing. 

“If I’m home before eleven, I’ll consider it.” 

Last year, when you first met him, you thought Luke only got that determined glint in his eyes when he was competing. That it was a sign of an unanticipated thrill. Since then, you’ve learnt that it’s not that at all. It’s this thing that ignites within him, determined and passionate and a little boyish. 

You think it might be one of your favorite things about him.

“I will take that deal.”

2. 

You wish you could say you were a little drunk. At least that way you would have something to blame. As it stands, you’re stone cold sober, maybe a little tired from class but nothing that can really be blamed for the lack of weight your actions seem to have right now. 

The only thing you can blame, and you will, is the boy next to you, completely engrossed in the movie playing. They’d been watching it when you arrived, all settled on the couches and you assume this is something they do regularly, and at any other time you might’ve called it cute. 

Not tonight. Not when you walked in to the discovery that Luke wears glasses and you didn’t know about it. It was something you played off, making a joke and settling into the cushions beside him. In the time since, Chris has left for his date with Clarisse and Charlie has pulled out some work to go through in the corner of the room. 

“What’s up?” Luke asks when he realizes you’ve hardly moved in ten minutes, barely even breathing. And it’s the worst possible thing he could do, glance down through the frames with that small smile you’ve gotten used to and curls loose. 

“Nothing’s up,” you let your eyes trail back to the screen. “This is a very cute tradition you guys have going on.” 

Charlie lets out a little laugh from across the room. You feel the way Luke exhales against the side of your face. You think you’re able to go back to pretending everything is normal, make a joke and enjoy the rest of the movie. The second you feel Luke’s fingertips on the skin of your knee, gentle and warm, you know you can’t. 

“You’re swerving,” he whispers, throwing a quick glance at Charlie to see if he can hear but the other boy is engrossed in his work. “Talk to me.” 

“It’s nothing,” you bite the inside of your cheek when he nods encouragingly, incredibly aware of the patterns he’s tracing on your skin. “I just think it’s interesting that you’d choose to wear a hat all the time when the glasses are right there.” 

“What?”

His hand stills and you wait. You wait and you stare at the shape of his jaw and you chuckle when it finally clicks, his adam’s apple shifting as he swallows the conclusion down. “Are you saying you like my glasses?” 

You don’t like how uneven this all feels. Whenever you’ve been with Luke so far, there’s been this mutual balance that you’ve grown used to. Even before now, back when you were locked in silly competitions, you did it on even footing, the expectation that everything meant nothing and you wouldn’t be affected. 

This, the way Luke grins around the realization, hand moving to rest on your thigh, is different. It’s heavier. It’s a loss after a winning streak and you’re kind of obsessed with the way it could drag you down. 

“I just think that hat is stupid.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Luke nods and you know, even if he doesn’t do it outright, he’s laughing. He’s categorizing the information you’ve just given him, placing it where it belongs in his mind, and it’s going to bite you in the ass. “Tell me more.” 

“Luke,” you mutter, gritting your teeth. His fingertips brush against the hem of your shorts and, when you glare at him for it, he just shrugs. You throw a glance over in Charlie’s direction. Still nothing. “Are you insane?” 

He tilts his head like he’s considering the question carefully. If Charlie were to look over, you know he’d assume you were locked in a debate about something silly - a staple of you and Luke - and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t know for a second that you were holding onto Luke’s wrist, his hand itching to move just a little to the left. 

You sigh and the boy beside you raises an eyebrow. You both know that you’ve lost this round. 

When you press your lips to his bicep as the film credits roll, warm even through the fabric of his shirt, you mumble, “I really like your glasses.” 

3.

You aren’t used to watching things from a crowd. You’re used to focusing on yourself, on your team - not watching from a distance, surrounded by people who are there purely for enjoyment. There’s no winning from the stands. 

Luke doesn’t know you’re here. You’d sent him a text that morning wishing him luck, arranging to meet him when his debate was over. You hadn’t bothered to message him when your afternoon class got canceled, choosing instead to race across campus and find a seat in the dim auditorium they’re using. 

There isn’t the crackle of energy you get from swimming, or from watching Luke during track sessions. It’s less intense, for sure, a balance between the fire you know exists within him when he’s competing and the confidence he has in his own intelligence. You’ve argued with Luke, stupid things that neither of you care to take too seriously, and this is just the next stage of that. 

He’s got his glasses on, you note, when the debate gets underway. He’s wearing his lucky green polo, even if he’d never personally call it that, and he’s switched his smartwatch out for an analogue one. The cheap biro you’re used to seeing him use has been replaced by a fancy silver pen that he still taps against his thigh while thinking. He’s sitting straighter than usual, shoulders back. 

It’s almost like meeting him for the first time, focused and confident and sharp at the edges. 

You’re kind of obsessed with it. 

An hour and a winning handshake later, you make your way through the small crowd leaving to find Luke in conversation with one of his teammates. She smiles as you wrap an arm around his waist from behind, the slight tension still lingering in his bones melting away when he realizes it’s you. 

“What are you doing here?” He says, turning enough that he’s actually facing you now. The girl waves you both goodbye. “I thought you had class.” 

“Professor Chase had to cancel. His daughter got sent home from school with a fever.” 

Luke nods, pressing his lips to the top of your head quickly. “You didn’t have to come to my debate.” 

In the few months you’ve known Luke, you’ve learnt more about him than you expected to. You know from summer that Connecticut means looking after his sick mother, that he’s hoping to introduce some new charity events to ksig, that he used to go to a summer camp growing up. You know that his dad never showed up for anything and that he sits in the stands of all of your swim meets regardless of whether it cuts into his study time or not.

More than all of that, you know that the way he’s gazing at you now, a cross between awe and something deeper, is going to drive you crazy one day. You hope he can read the same expression on your face. 

“Thank you for coming,” he says when everyone is finally dismissed, an arm thrown across your shoulders as you make your way out of the building. You loop a finger around one of his, just because you want to. “It means a lot.”

“I told you I would,” and you had, months ago, staring at Luke’s bedroom ceiling, back when you were still caught in the casualness of it all. When Luke was just someone you pretended you weren’t trying to bump into at parties. You’d told him that you would show up for him if you ever got the chance. He’d rolled his eyes, throwing a blanket over you both and told you to go to sleep. He’d drifted off with his nose pressed against your neck. “I keep my word, Castellan.” 

“I know.”

In the evening light of campus, you think it might mean something more. Buried under the timing and the bitter wind until it’s a promise only you and Luke could translate. Asking him about where he wants to go for dinner, you like that no one else could understand the depth of it. 

+1.

Silena catches your attention as you enter the kitchen, grinning wildly and explaining her concept for tonight. Drew gave her permission to throw this week’s party, something themed and fun and it’s something she’s so proud of that you can’t help but grin back at her energy. 

“Even Charlie came,” she tells you excitedly, handing you a drink. “I feel like tonight is going to be it.” 

In all the years you’ve known her, she’s been counting down to it. You don’t exactly understand the fundamentals of what it is, if it’s a real thing or something she can just sense intrinsically. There have been moments where she’s thought of it before, mentioned it offhandedly before shaking her head - as if knowing she was wrong. 

“What even is it?” You ask and, for the first time, she breathes deeply instead of shrugging it off. 

“The beginning of the end,” she says and that doesn’t exactly explain anything. “Everything is about to change.” 

You still don’t really get it, but she’s as confident in this as she is about her clothes, so you nod like you understand. She sends you away not long after that, turning her attention to the new group that’s just walked through the doorway, mentioning that you need to be in the basement in about an hour and you just accept your fate, moving into the next room and falling into conversation with Rachel. 

*

Luke slips into the basement just as Silena starts yelling for everyone to do so, catching your eye across the room and waving. When you’re all instructed to sit down in a circle, you wonder exactly what Silena has planned for tonight. When she places a near empty bottle down in the center of you all, you laugh. 

“Are we actually playing spin the bottle?” Chris asks, prompting a murmured chorus of agreement from everyone else in the room. Silena frowns at him. 

“Wanna bet he ends up getting the most into it?” Luke whispers in your ear and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Loser has to buy the coffee tomorrow morning.” 

“You’re on,” you bump your fist to his to seal the deal. “I think he’s gonna get bored by round 3.” 

“Only boring people get bored of this game. It’s about drive.” 

“It’s about power?” Luke lets out a laugh and Silena turns her glare to you. “Sorry.”

She starts to explain the rules of the game, as if you’re all twelve again, and you bite your lip harder with every comment Luke makes under his breath. It’s a little mean, a little stupid, and you wish you were fifteen again, playing a proper game of spin the bottle for the first time.

Nothing much happens for the first few rounds, Chris starting to grumble the longer the game goes on. Luke clicks his tongue when you point it out, cursing his best friend like this was the worst thing that could’ve happened to him. 

Lee spins and it’s like cosmic interference when the bottle stops between you and Luke, the two of you glancing at each other and then back towards Lee. 

“Should I spin it again?” Lee asks when no one says anything. Silena shakes her head and says, “You can choose or we can vote if that makes you more comfortable.” 

“Please let us vote,” Chris shouts, animated and you narrow your eyes at him, ignoring the smug smile Luke gives you. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” 

Lee glances between you both again, at where your knee rests against Luke’s thigh and the beer you’ve been sharing for the past twenty minutes sits between you. “It might be better to vote.” 

“Sure,” Silena smiles before silencing you all. “Everyone that wants Lee to kiss Luke, raise your hands.” 

You raise your hand and Luke mumbles beside you, flicking your leg and you poke him in return. Anything to avoid kissing Lee Fletcher after two years of avoiding it. 

“That is an overwhelming majority,” Silena says and you know, just by the way her eyes slide over to you, that she didn’t even bother to actually count. “Lee, you may now kiss Luke.” 

There’s this moment where you think Lee is going to just leave but instead he stares at the boy next to you, the relaxed set to his jaw, the annoying baseball cap on his head, how he’s so unbothered by it all. You watch as something clicks in his mind, you really want to know what it is. 

Whatever it was, it makes him grab the bottle again, ignoring Silena’s protests. It lands on the girl from Luke’s debate team and she straightens her back ever so slightly. 

“Silena,” Lee says as he leans towards the girl. “I’m not going to kiss Luke or his girlfriend.”

“Damn straight,” Luke mumbles, grabbing your hand from your lap and holding it in his instead. It’s stupid and it really doesn’t matter to either of you, you know that, but there’s this way he says it - almost like it’s the worst thing he could’ve imagined - and it settles in your gut with the beer you’ve been drinking. “Me or my girlfriend.”

“I’d really like to meet her,” you say, laughing when he huffs and pulls his hat down on your head. When you push the visor up to see him properly, all rosy cheeks and compacted curls, you think you might have found it. Whatever it is.

Based on the way Luke’s nose scrunches and his eyes crinkle, you think he understands that too. 

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan x you

[writingsonsaturn]

Tim having a younger girlfriend who gets princess treatment from him, she very obviously in love with Tim, and nobody at the station believes he has a girlfriend, so one day she shows up and work and everyone gets to see and meet her and see just how much she has Tim wrapped around her finger <3

Sorry if it doesn't make sense

puppy love - tim bradford

{ masterlist }

🪐: hopefully this lives up to what you were thinking!! i did my best to capture all the main elements that you wanted in the story <33

word count: 1039

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Tim was notorious for being a hardass, his rough demeanor and strict ways of teaching made him seem like a total douchebag, for lack of a better word.

However, for you, he was a ball of sunshine, just don't let anyone else know that. 

Tim was awoken to the deafening sound of his alarm clock, he looked over at the red numbers, the clock reading “6:00am”, he sighed and reached a hand over to turn the blaring sound off. He turned over at the movement of your sleeping body, his hand now brushing through your hair with a small smile on his lips, waking up wasn't so bad when he got to see your face every morning.

You woke up gently at the new warmth that was on your head, “do you have to leave today?” you whispered with annoyance, one eye looking at him while the other stayed shut hoping to retain some sleep “unfortunately i do, baby, but i'll be home in time for our date” he responds, leaning over and kissing your forehead. 

He gets out of bed and heads for the closet putting on his uniform, once he’s done getting ready he reaches for his duty belt and gun that he keeps in his nightstand. Finally he leans over to give you one last kiss goodbye, “i love you, i’ll text you on break” you felt his lips move, “i love you too, be safe and come home to me” you respond as he walks out of the room gently shutting the door.

You shortly go back to sleep to get extra shuteye before having to go to your 9:00 am psychology class.

===

Tim made it to work early, going into the locker room and putting his duffle bag full of extra clothes and little snacks that you had snuck in there “just in case”, once he left the locker room he made his way to the debriefing room. “Hey Tim, you still owe me the 13 bucks for that burrito i bought you last week” Angela points out, while walking in behind him “ah right” he groans pulling out his wallet simply forgetting the little photo he kept of you in there.

The photo fell on the ground as Tim pulled out the cash, Angela reached down holding the picture “who is that?” she wonders while looking at the piece of paper “my girlfriend” he responds while holding out the $13, “you? You have a girlfriend?” she jokes “yeah, and i'm a millionaire” she finished sarcastically and walked away to sit down in her seat.

Tim just silently rolled his eyes and put your photo back in the safety of his wallet, after Grey gave his briefing, Angela and Nyla both started talking about Tim’s “girlfriend” the others overheard and suddenly everyone knew about Tim’s private life. 

“Tim has a girlfriend?” Lucy questioned, while walking over the group and grinning. “That’s what he claims, when he was paying me back a photo slipped out of his wallet and when i asked who it was he said it was his girlfriend, but i don't know who would torture themselves like that” she explained, Nolan had his eyebrows raised “come on guys, Tim can’t be that bad” Nolan continued “he probably just doesn't like us” he smiled making the others laugh. 

“Okay! Are you guys ready to stop being a bunch of highschoolers and gossiping about my love life so we can, I don't know, do our job?” Tim dead panned, they all quietly snickered, and some started getting ready to head out.

Tim heard the faint call of his name, and fast feet, “Tim! you forgot your lunch!” you spoke quickly while softly jogging towards him. “That’s what i forgot, thank you baby” Tim mentally smacked himself for forgetting the meal you had prepared for him the night before. You smiled at him, rushing as you had to get back to the campus as you had a final in 45 minutes.

Everyone looked slightly gobsmacked, realizing that Tim was in fact not lying about having a girlfriend, Angela came up to the love sick couple, “so you’re the pretty lady Tim keeps in his wallet” she spoke with playfulness, “you must be Angela! Tim talks about you all the time, im (Y/N)” you introduced yourself with a big smile. Tim smiled at you with all the love in the world, looking at you while you introduced yourself to his friends and colleagues. 

“As much as i would absolutely love talking to you guys more, i have a really important test i have to go take” you explained with haste, everyone was extremely understanding and wished you good lucks, “One last thing, Tim, before you come home will you please pick up milk from the store? I used it all this morning” everyone looked at Tim awaiting his response “Yes ma’am” he complied, you kissed his cheek and gave everyone a last goodbye before leaving.

“Man she has you utterly whipped” Aaron spoke, while shaking his head, “yeah, you are so done for sir” Celina giggled. Tim looked at both of them with a stern face immediately making them shut up and get back to doing whatever they were doing. 

“I'm glad you found someone Tim, you deserve a good person” Lucy quietly mentioned, Tim gave a silent nod of acknowledgement letting Lucy know that what she said meant a lot to him as she left and continued on with her duties.

Tim carried on with his day, doing paperwork, and counting the minutes until he came home to you.

Once he got off of work, he made sure he picked up milk and even got you you're favorite snack, as soon as he got home you two made dinner together and sat at the kitchen table, you told him how you’re very sure you passed your final with flying colors, and he told you about the mountains of paperwork that made him wish he was in bed watching a stupid reality show with you instead. 

When it was time for bed you and Tim continued to talk about random thoughts, and your futures together before you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #the rookie #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x younger!reader #reader insert

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Hello! May I request some romantic headcanons (if it is possible) or headcanons of Alastor from Hazbin Hotel beginning the courting phase with a tinkerer!gn!reader who can fix almost anything and entrusts the repairs of his very few electronic devices, including his microphone, to them?

Thank you for taking the time to read this and have a lovely day/night! :)

A/N: tysm for your request!! This started as courting and then developed into the actual relationship so two in one i guess!

Warnings: none! fluff all the way through + Alastor being dramatic

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him wondering if you’re actually going to be useful to the hotel or if you were just here for the free room

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him keeping an eye out on you for a while, cautious but still acting normal nonetheless

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him ready to use his magic to fix the hotel right back up when one of the rooms flooded because of a client

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… a surprised Alastor when he sees you, work clothes drenched and toolbox in hand when you tell Charlie it’s all fixed

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him doubting your abilities at first thinking you’re an average handy-man who can just fix small things

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… so what does he do? he pretends his microphone is broken

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… he takes a trip down to you’re room which doubles as the basement and boiler room. you’d insistes staying there in case anything happened you could fix it right away

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him telling you what’s wrong with his microphone while you examine it, telling you he wants it done by the time he gets back to the hotel tonight

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… a short-circuited Alastor when you tell him you fixed it and tuned it as well.

“Well, Dear I didn’t need you to tune it.”

He says faking gratefulness, because the thing is, you really can’t tune it…

So that leaves him thinking, if you didn’t tune it, what else did you do??

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… an embarrassed Alastor when you tell him you know he lied about it being broken and that you didn’t actually do anything to it.

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… a huge sigh of relief on his end, asking how you knew it wasn’t broken. you tell him you knew the moment he walked in it was perfectly fine.

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞…him confessing he was just trying to see your abilities, but brushing it off saying it was pointless in the first place so you don’t press the matter further

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him stopping by to chat while he watches you fix things, keeping you company and playing music for you

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… Alastor going to you to fix anything even if it isn’t an item

“Y/n dear, would you be so kind as to fix my button? I believe it popped off earlier.”

“Alastor I can’t sew.”

“Well you’ll learn today!”

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him being dramatic when you tell him youre too busy, he’ll groan and whine about it tossing himself onto your bed and acting like he’s dying

“ Alastor you’re already dead…”

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him watching you while you work if he has nothing else to do

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him bragging about you in random bars about how you can fix anything

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him complementing you on your skills tenfold when he breaks something you’ve already fixed for him multiple times

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… hanging his head low as he tells you he did in fact break it after you fixed it and told him how to avoid it

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… alastor asking you to take things apart and explain how to put them back together so he knows too

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him putting aside his own skills, he’s not that bad of a fixer himself, but prefers to go to you for quality time

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… you picking up and fixing things after he goes overboard with his powers

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… Charlie and Vaggie calling you from the hotel saying Alastor broke something arguing with Angel again

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… you two being the perfect pair, he breaks things and you fix them <33

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin vaggie #hazbin demon #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel rosie #alastor

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Professor Miguel O’Hara x Reader Headcanons

Warnings: University Professor Miguel, Implications of Smut, Age Gap, Secret Relationship, Teacher’s Pet Reader, Academic Manipulation, Coercion, Abuse of Power, Miguel Abusing his Spider Abilities for Nefarious Purposes, Slight Yandere Miguel, Implied Obsession, Minor Spoilers for Miguel’s Backstory, Extra Yandere Headcanons, Forced Kissing, No Pronouns Used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Miguel knows it’s wrong to want you in the way he does. You’re his best and brightest student, after all — his magnum opus: his academic pride and joy.

Problem is, that appreciation for your work ethic and your eagerness to take heavy loads of work (and eventually heavy loads of other things) charmed him. Sure, he could label you asa kiss-ass, a teacher’s pet, a sycophant, but ever since the first day he met you, he can’t help but feel your concern for him is genuine.

You always ask him how he’s doing. Every class, without fail, you stop off at his desk on your way to your seat and ask: “How are you doing today, Mr. O’Hara?” Followed by questioning some inane, specific detail he told you off-handedly a day or week prior.

You always remembered the little details. Something even Miguel finds trouble with doing; what, with his extracurricular activities as Nueva York’s one and only Spiderman.

The fact that you’re kind to him, a luxury Miguel had long since lost along with his family, strikes a chord with him.

He’s not sure when his platonic appreciation of such a hard-working student turned to something more — a rogue daydream into the lewd — but once he started, he couldn’t get enough.

Something about your unspoken submission to him – your, dare he say, desire to perform just for him, led his mind and his morals astray, left much room for interpretation and experimentation.

Choosing to believe you liked him — like-liked him — made a brand of pride bubble in his chest that he couldn’t abandon, couldn’t find a potent enough alternative to.

He starts shamelessly, yet restrainedly, flirting with you. In his own way, of course.

“I loved your paper on the configuration of water molecules and their behaviour when observed; very enlightening stuff.”

The way your face would light up, your eyes crinkling while a small, almost relieved laugh escaped you, made his chest flutter.

He thought it was pride. How little he knows for a science professor.

Eventually, this escalated into him asking you to do things for him he “Wouldn’t ordinarily ask a student to do.”

He smiles at you, eyes deceptively kind behind his slender glasses, as he watches you so intently listen, hear, for his commands.

He wonders what other things you’d do — how far you’d really go, stretch yourself (as he hopes you’d let him) — for a good grade and a positive impression.

He has a secret weapon that he knows will work on you, regardless of how momentous the task.

“I’m trusting you because you’re my favourite student.”

There it is. The activation phrase. Your heart rate quickens, your pupils blow wide and he can feel, hear, the blood rush to your cheeks as his confession settles in.

He can expect whatever it is he’s asked you to do to be complete before the time he’s set for you to do it. And all because of your eagerness to prove that you’re worthy of such a title as ‘favourite’. His favourite.

Truly, though, you are his favourite.

He feels his heart prick and his eyes search for you whenever the door to the lecture hall opens.

Only once were you unable to come to class, rendered bed-ridden by the flu, and Miguel’s heart sank.

He thought at first it was because he didn’t have your adoring eyes following him, trailing his every movement, stroking off his ego with how furiously you’d type on your laptop, take everything he said and burn it into your memory with laser-life efficiency.

But, as the lecture drew to a close, Miguel felt…concerned about you. Your well-being.

A dangerous emotion.

He cared about you. More than just an academic plaything, a task donkey; he wanted to visit you, to care for you. In ways he knew only he was capable of.

During his surveillance of the city that night, he paid you a visit as Spiderman.

Nothing so overt as to make himself known to you; rather a sideline visit as he watched you through your bedroom window.

Truly, your physical state reflected how monumental your illness was; you lay in bed, unaware of the world around you as you slept, nose tip red and eyes ringed.

He wanted to come in, to tuck you back under the blankets you’d thrashed yourself free from, to check your temperature, to be with you.

He leaves, hand coming up to the glass, wishing to breach it — and all the rules — to see you.

But alas, the next time he sees you is in class a few days later when you’re fully recovered.

As you sidle into your seat, lecture hall (uncharacteristically) devoid of Miguel, your friends lean in to tell you all that you missed.

Though, to your surprise, it’s not academic material they’re covering.

“He kept looking over here while you were gone,” came one friend, smiling. Knowing.

“Yeah,” chimes another, leaning in even closer. “And he didn’t sound like he usually does — he sounded…” They look for the right word, term, eyes sliding upwards as if the answer lay heavenward.

The cogs click, they look at you, pointing.

“Disheartened!”

Of course, your friends knew of your admiration for Miguel, often construing it as romantic attraction, but their jibes never went past a joke – purely satirical. After all, practically every student fancied Miguel.

But, that was the first indication you’d seen that Miguel didn’t just view you as another of his students. Though, you hadn’t seen the other warning signs.

Not that youd knwo this prior to dating him, but Miguel gets unbelievably hard when you call him ‘Mr. O’Hara’. Or, even better, ‘Sir’.

Something about the way you look up at him beneath your lashes, eyes filled with the desire to please him, to get on his good side and undertake any task he set for you, was akin to him having full control over you — academic and otherwise.

It just reminds him of how much power he has over you; for the first time, he feels that he has control over the elements and objects around him — an agent of fate rather than being a subject of it. 

That, coupled with his secret identity as Spider Man, sends him on a power trip that often leads him to relieving himself of his growing burden in the privacy of his own four walls, your name laced between the groaning, the panting, the moaning; the only comprehensible instrument in his orchestra.

And, when you eventually start dating, he takes his frustrations out on you.

He makes low, raspy threats when he wants something.

“I’ll lower your grade,” he says, sliding his belt from the loops of his trousers.

The blood draining from your face, your widened stare, your mouth dropping open, make his pants feel tight. Tighter. Goosebumps erupt across his skin.

“Or,” he offers, folding the belt and holding it by the ends. He slaps the belt’s body against itself, sending a crack through the room. You flinch.

“You can be a good little student and earn your grade.”

‘Earning’ often ends with you panting and red and wet, while Miguel watches you between half-lidded, reddened eyes, contact lenses long abandoned, his true nature no longer an enigma to you.

Unfortunately for you.

Extra Yandere Headcanons:

Once you discover Miguel’s true identity, both as Spiderman and a monster, you can never leave.

And not just because you’d be endangering both yourself and him if you ever told anyone.

Miguel, quite simply, cannot live without you. And the thought that you would try to escape him is, despite his intelligence, baffling.

His delusion has blinded him, made him privy only to any positive opinion of him you may have, ignoring your reservations. Invalidating them.

If you ever do make the mistake of trying to leave, Miguel knows he cannot let you have the chance of making it again.

“Can’t risk you getting out, Darling,” he says, placing the finishing knots on the threads of his neon web, keeping your arms constricted behind your back. It’s nigh-impossible to breathe; the likelihood of you breaking your ribs against the pull of the web a certainty rather than you managing to burst it open with any manoeuvre.

He kneels before you, taking your cheek in his hand.

With fleeting defiance, you pull yourself from his grasp, only to see him bear his teeth, fangs and all, and growl. His hands snake about your cheek, your throat, and pull you to him.

“No-one will ever love you like I do,” he rasps. Before you can anticipate, his lips are on yours, parted, tongue lapping at the inside of your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, knowing better than to bite him.

His iron grip on your wrists from last time still haven’t healed.

You daren’t close your eyes for fear that doing so will leave you any more vulnerable than you already are.

Only when he’s breathless does he pull back, eyes half-lidded and gleaming. You can tell he’s angling for something more in the way his hand drops to your shoulder, his eyes sweeping across your collarbones.

But, luckily for you, the two of you know he can’t indulge in you just yet. Not while he has you bound in his basement and a class of students awaiting his arrival.

“I’ll be back for you later,” he says, still panting, forehead pressed to yours. His smile, once pointed and serpentine, is incongruously soft compared to the current circumstances. His lips gentle as he presses a kiss to your forehead. His eyes shimmer with a tenderness that often overtook him in moments of great need – of great “love”, as he’d characterise it.

With a tight, embrace, he parts from you. His shirt is an almost blinding white against the light pouring in from the hallway, the basement door now wide open. He retrieves his glasses from his breast pocket, slips them on. His eyes are unreadable, coloured brown with contact lenses which seemed to conceal his inhumanity from all except you.

“Sit tight, Sweetie,” he tells you. And you are plunged once again into darkness with only the dim glow of his web to accompany you.

And, just like the good, obedient student you are, you obey. For you have no other choice.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

#miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #yandere miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #yandere miguel o hara #miguel o hara x you #spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman astv #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #yandere spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

[luveline]

hey pookie bear❤️❤️ i was wondering if u could do james x reader but enemies to lovers/one bed troupe, i can’t find enemies to lovers with james very often and my mind is craving it. thank you ily❤️❤️

hey!! ily tysm for requesting!!! —you and co-worker!james share a hotel room for the night. fem!reader, 1.5k

James Potter is the most insufferable, arrogant, suffocating boy you've ever met in your entire life, so when you hear you'll be sharing a room with him tonight, you shut down. Total icy silence. If he wants conversation, he can ring one of his irritating mates. 

It feels borderline illegal to have your workplace make you share a room considering, but you're adults, and the trip was supposedly all inclusive. Not even the most luxurious per diem could make this worth it, though. 

James lays in the middle of the bed, arms behind his head, skin awash by lamplight and hair a dark halo against the crisp white linens. He grins at you and you despise how handsome he is. Handsome, and such a fucking prick of a man. 

"Won't you join me?" he teases. 

You've kept your vow to ignore him until that point. "Please don't lie on my side of the bed." 

He moves over, looking startlingly apologetic. You'd believe he was repentant, but he asks, "What's the point? You'll be in my arms sooner or later." 

You nibble the inside of your lip. He agitates you, he irks you, but you know James is a good guy. His irritating mates are the same. When you joined the office, he made sure they all remembered to celebrate your birthday though it'd only been a few weeks. When you fell up the icy steps on the way in one morning, James didn't take the piss. He helped you up into the doorway and frowned at your bloody knees and ripped tights like they physically pained him.  

"Do you want to shower first?" you ask. 

"I shower in the mornings. Thank you. But I can strip down now if you'd like." 

"James, please," you say, rubbing your eyes. You'd usually have something much more biting to say, but you're tired. At the last second, you summon the energy. "No one wants to see that." 

He glares at you like he's remembered he doesn't like you. 

"Cruel." 

He leans over the edge of the bed and pulls a book out of his suitcase where it lays in arm's reach. 

"I didn't know you could read," you add. 

"Points off for awfulness. Put your jammies on, shortcake, I wanna see what you packed." 

He's being a creep to annoy you. It's working. You grab your pyjamas and a change of underwear and leave his presence to the small bathroom for a quick shower. You take your time to dry off. It's too big a wish to have him be sleeping when you emerge, and sure enough, he's wide awake but changed into his own pyjamas, plaid bottoms and a white t-shirt. 

"Now I know you're obsessed with me," he says, raising his eyebrows over the pages of his book. 

You cross your arms self consciously over your near identical pyjamas, the bathroom door closing behind you. 

James waits for you to put your dirty clothes in your suitcase before piping up again. "You look adorable." 

"Fuck off, please." 

He snorts and kicks the sheets down the length of the bed. Stretching with a groan that makes your stomach hurt, he puts his novel tented down on the nightstand. His glasses are next. He looks different without them but no less handsome. If anything, the eagle shape of his nose is more pronounced without them, as is the little pink scar on his cheek, stark against his brown skin. 

"You're an awful roommate," he says decisively, "you use all the hot water, you leave the windows open, as now you're ogling me. I feel rather objectified." 

You avert your eyes guiltily. "You might want to take your temperature. You likely have a fever, considering how delusional you're acting."

"Ooh, burn." 

Face hot with spite, you push back the sheets on your side of the bed and turn off your lamp. After a second, James turns off his. 

"You're not brushing your teeth?" you ask. Your voice lacks a specific bite, fatigue kicking in. 

"Did while you were in the bathroom." 

"What'd you do with the toothpaste spit?" 

"Swallowed it." 

You laugh. It sounds much too friendly, and you hate it. "You're disgusting," you mutter. 

You slide down flat on your back and pull the sheets over your legs and stomach, more than aware of his nearness and the heat of his body already waiting for you under the thin quilt. He smells nice, this close. Like deodorant, mint, but something else that snags your attention. 

You hate him so much sometimes —he steals your pens constantly from your desk, he never offers you a cup of coffee even when he's making them for everyone else, and he's lazy. He doesn't do his third of the finances on time. He nudges his desk into yours to make your small figurines fall over and calls it 'earthquake training'. They're fucking plastic. James Potter drives you up the goddamn wall, and being close to someone like this couldn't be more awkward. You're stiff as a board. 

"I was only kidding earlier," James says. He's quiet, but so is the room. He might as well yell. "I wouldn't lay a finger on you if you didn't want me to." 

"You gave me a snakebite three days ago." 

"I thought you had a bug on you," he says furiously, having had this argument already. "That's not the point. If you want me to sleep on the floor, I'll do that. I have no intention of making you uncomfortable." 

"You've already failed, then." 

He sighs. "I can go sleep on the floor in Sirius and Remus' room." 

"They wouldn't have you in the bed?" you joke lightly. They have a close friendship. It's nice, even though you might pretend they're a throuple whenever single girls visit the office to ruin his chances. 

"Oh, they probably would." 

"It's fine. Don't… don't bother. It's not a big deal for me if it isn't for you. I know you wouldn't try anything." 

"Yeah?" 

"Of course. You're a bitch, but I don't believe you're that kind." 

James laughs loudly, his chuckles shaking the mattress. You swear you can feel his eyes on your face, though the room is bathed in darkness and the strings of scarce red light blinking from the alarm clock. 

"Good. I'm not that kind of bitch," he agrees. 

"Well. Goodnight." 

"Yeah, goodnight, shortcake." 

You roll your eyes at his nickname. Whether your short or tall isn't his concern, James calls you shortcake because he's very tall, and he holds that against you often like a schoolyard tease, papers held out of reach, your figurines hidden in alcoves or on top of cabinets.

You turn onto your favoured side and try not to care that you're facing him. James falls asleep first, his breath slowing until a snore emerges, his weight dipping the cheap mattress. Combined with your own, you start to slide toward one another. 

Fucks sake, you think, edging back. 

Space reestablished between you, you close your eyes and try not to think about what he looks like when he sleeps. As you nod off, you feel the soft skin of a hand curling around your forearm. A quarter circle rubbed into your pulse. 

— 

James wakes first, and he is Oh so thankful. He isn't a pervert, he swears, he has no idea why he's curled around you like this. Hugging your arm to his chest like a teddy, his face curved downward, his nose pressed to your forehead, he wakes and he panics hard. 

You aren't touching him back. Sunlight filters in through shitty translucent blinds and kisses your unassuming face, your lashes lightened, your lips pointed down in sleep. He worries something's upsetting you while you doze. He bites his tongue. 

It's none of his business. None of his business why you're having a restless morning. 

James twists and lets your arm fall naturally back onto the sheets, squinting in the sun at the alarm clock. It's barely five AM. You needn't wake for another two hours but you will, if you keep frowning. 

James holds his breath. Carefully, he settles back onto his side facing you and cups your face. It feels too intimate, too much. He pulls his hand away after half of a second, opting to take your hand again instead. 

He's seen you cry before. Bloody hands and knees, humiliated and cold, you'd sniffled on the steps leading into the office and asked him not to tell anyone. Remus and Sirius know everything there is to know about James. His genuine but waning dislike for you, his budding crush. And yet, after pretty much a lifetime telling them every secret he'd ever come into contact with, James didn't tell them about that. He gave you the packet of tissues from his pocket, and he told you a lie about falling in the exact same place a year before you started working with them. 

The expression you gave him then is the same you wear now as he rubs the palm of your hand with his index fingers. You're comforted. Your unseen unhappiness abates.

James falls asleep like that, drawing shapes into your hand. 

—

i love him i want him to be my office frenemy. ty for reading!! pls reblog if u enjoyed it means so much to me!

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

[hecateslore]

hey! so bad bunny has a song called perro negro idk if you ever heard it but there’s a line in that music that says “tu tiene cara que tiene la pussy linda” and i was wondering if you could write yk a little something with Simon and a fem reader who just started dating and their relationship is still in the early stages and they haven’t gotten in bed together yet and the reader is pretty shy but not the uwu shy the type of shy that laughs and gets shocked when she’s embarrassed and one day simon jokingly and lightly flirts with her and she gets a struck of courage out of nowhere and flirts with him back but in a more sexual way? and simon gets surprised and uses that or a variation of that line from perro negro with her and in results in a hot smut scene please 🙏🏻

(also i loved loved loved the two office fics you wrote with simon they’re 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻 can’t wait for more ❤️)

I did the best I could, but im suppeeer obsessed with the song FINA off his new album. I hope you enjoy lolz. ♥️♥️

Also I wrote this with Supervisor!Simon on my mind, cause y'all know how much I love how awkward reader is in this au lmao.

MDNI | afab reader

You and Simon decided to have a date night in, drinking wine and listening to the soft jazz playlist for the background.  You’d both got off work around the same time, you both got the  closing shift and decided to make dinner at your place. 

It's  also the first time Simon has seen the inside of your place, it’s small for him, but the perfect size for you. Almost every room decorated, a touch of you in every piece of furniture. You stood in the kitchen, pulling out the two aluminum tins filled with tonight's dinner out of the oven. “These’ll pair well with the red, no?” Simon nods, watching your frame move around the kitchen, earlier you denied his help and told him to shush and sit. So he did. 

“I like it here.” Simon looked around your apartment once again, “Very you.” he teased. 

“What does that mean?” you pretend to look shocked as you hand him two glass plates. “It’s like you all around me.” Simon chuckles.  “You’d want me all around you.” you snort, “Oh wait-” 

Simon's eyes widened at the sleazy joke. Your hand immediately flies to your mouth in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean-” Simon waves you off, “It’s okay, I wouldn’t mind checking if it's as pretty down there as it is up here.” He sends you a wink as he fixes both of your plates, your eyes nearly pop out of your head. 

The next forty five minutes was the two of you flirting back and forth at the dinner table, saying very lewd jokes to each other, Simon making you extremely giddy- his deep brown eyes watching you intently as you went on and on about how a certain coworker. 

You both then moved to the living Area, “No shoes on the carpet” You reach your arm across his frame blocking him from entering your lounging quarters. He begrudgingly took each shoe off, “My clothes next?” that earned a little “simon!” from you. 

The two of you plop on the couch, Simon slouching while man-spreading and you right next to him, “you’re lucky I didn’t tell you to bring a change of clothes.” he turns his head to you, “why?” “outside clothes on the couch. I’d never let anyone do this, you’re the exception.” you say. 

“I could just take them off?” he smirks, “Simon don’t be gross.” you let out a hearty laugh,swatting playfully at Simon's arm. "No funny business on my couch," you warn him with a mock stern expression. Simon raises his hands in surrender, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Alright, alright, I promise to behave," he teases, leaning back against the cushions. 

“You’re a sweet girl, you know that?” He raises his large hand to caress your cheek,“I’d like to believe so.” you turn your head to kiss his palm softly, savoring the tenderness of the moment. you lean in to peck his cheek,Lost in your thoughts, you absentmindedly trace circles on Simon's chest with your fingertips. He shifts slightly, his eyes gazing into yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

"Do you want to see what the inside of my room looks like?" you ask softly as you continue to trace circles on Simon's chest. He raises an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Are you inviting me to your room?" he teases. 

You whisper to him, "I think you should follow me!", you make a fake shocked expression that makes Simon let out a cackle "Lead the way," he whispers back, getting up, you make way into your bedroom, going down the very short hallway that leads to your room, Simon's hand on your lower back.

You push open your door, refraining from jumping him the second he passes the threshold, you go to sit on your bed and Simon admires your room for a quick second,"Did you mean what you said in the kitchen?" you question, he looked confused, "about seeing me," you motion past your waist "down there.""Yes," he says, his voice filled with sincerity. "I've been holding out until you felt ready, I wouldn't want to ruin this for you"Simon takes a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. "But only if you're comfortable," he adds, his voice soft.

"I'm comfortable, are you comfortable?" you look into his deep brown eyes

"I am," he replies, Simon takes another step towards you, bending down so now he's kneeling between your legs, your lips brush against his, a small smile on his lips before he closes his eyes and allows himself to be lost in the softness of your kiss. It's deep and it intensifies, each movement filled with desperation. Without breaking the kiss, Simon's hands slide up your body, groping your breasts and tugging at your blouse, you let out soft moans opposed to Simon's growls and groans.

Simon breaks the kiss,"Go lay on your back" his accent thicker than usual. He starts pulling his shirt off-You obediently peel off your blouse and lie down on your bed, Simon quickly discards his clothes and joins you, "These pants have to go." he pulls your work slacks down with an unnatural ease, leaving you only in your panties and bra, Simon in his boxers. He kisses you again then trails down your body, wet kisses in between the valley of your bust.

His fingers plunge into the cup of your bra, and he pulls you up and out of it, leaving you in nothing but your panties. He kisses you again, his tongue flickering across your lips. You moan softly, savoring the sensation of his touch against your skin.

Simon's hands slide down over your panties, and he tugs them off, leaving you naked. His two large hands rub up and down your inner thighs, causing you to spread your legs wide open for a better view, "Even prettier than I thought." he says as his lips inch closer to your core, you tense up slightly, biting your lip in anticipation.”You're a very dirty man-" your cut off as he leans in and presses his lips against your core, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. You let out a loud whimper as his tongue glides against your folds, tasting your wetness for the very first time.

"Oh, God," you moan, thrusting your hips upward. Simon's hands grip your thighs, He pulls back form between your legs, "I need to be inside you.'' He rids himself of his boxers and you can't help but to stare at the man before you, Simon is big. His cheeks and ears red from the adrenaline, he looked so handsome, your hand immediately goes in between you thighs, you rub yourself "Fuck me, Simon. Please," you plead, Simon swats your hand away and guides his thick cock head into your very wet and swollen pussy, pushing in slowly until you're both gasping for breath. His eyes locked onto yours, He starts thrusting, his hips moving in and out, filling you up with every stroke. He grabs your face while he moves in and out of you teasingly slowly, "Look a' me" you whine at his movements. He leans down to kiss you, his tongue intertwining with yours as he continues to thrust into you. You meet his movements with your own, wrapping your legs around his hips, pulling him deeper inside you.

"I'm gonna cum Simon," You whimper out as he drills into you harder and faster, "I want to feel you come around me." Simon fixed his gaze on yours and increased his pace, his hips slamming into you with each powerful thrust. "I told you I wanted you all around me didn't I?" Simon growled, his voice low and sensual. "Oh my god i'm gonna cum," you gasp out. His eyes darkened with lust as he felt your walls beginning to tighten around him. "Don't cum in me." you manage to moan out.His movements slow down, but the intensity of them only grows. you can feel his warm breath against your ear, and his voice is low and ragged when he says, "I won't, baby. I promise."

his palms press down on my thighs, spreading my legs even wide, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming" Simon moans in reply, his hips bucking, "Oh fuck!" he yells as he pulls out and  strokes himself. You watch, breathless and aroused as he speeds up his pace, his muscles tensing, He  then lets out a loud groan as he releases his cum all over your sloppy cunt. Simon collapses onto you, panting heavily, his heartbeat pounding against your chest. You can feel his hot breath on your neck, and the sticky warmth of his release between your legs.

You both lay in silence for a second, before Simon lifts himself off of you. “Well that was fun" you breathe, he chuckles and kisses your forehead, "It sure was. who knew you could be so vulgar?" You swat his arm,

"Simon!"

#lunden’s response ❀— #supervisor!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost smut #ghost smut #smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon riley cod #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ghost fanfiction #ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #cod 141 #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #task force 141

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - mentions of kidnapping, controlling behavior, lyla is both Miguel's number stan and number one hater, and blood.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Hey, show a little faith. Have I ever steered you wrong before?” LYLA whispered, hovering just above your shoulder. You paid her a skeptical look, and she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Okay, whatever, but you know who programmed me! You cannot believe Miguel would be able to give me this shining sense of humor.”

That point, you couldn’t argue – even if you still had your reservations. With a deep, faltering breath, you slipped through the barely cracked door and into Miguel’s shell of a bedroom. It was dark, save for the faint red glow emanating from some half-finished electronic weapon he’d been revising and adjusting for as long as you’d known him, and of course, Miguel was still asleep. It looked like he’d made a half-hearted attempt to pull one of his thin sheets over himself before collapsing face-down on the center of his bed – which was, in all fairness, probably exactly what happened. You’d learned his routine, by now, knew that he’d likely only sleep for another three hours or so before dragging himself out of bed and back to his surveillance room. This might’ve been the first time you’d actually seen him in bed, rather than hunched over one of his many consoles or laid across a bench in one of the lesser-used hallways, having given into his exhaustion before he could make it anywhere more private. You didn’t like it. It reminded you too much of waking up in the middle of the night to Miguel looming over you, silently leering as you pretended not to notice him, even if there was a world of difference between what he’d done to you and what you dreamed of doing to him.

You stepped over the threshold, then paused. “Why am I here again?”

“Blackmail.” Miguel had mentioned off-handedly that LYLA couldn’t feel human emotions, just imitate them, but you could’ve sworn you heard a note of pure zeal in her voice. “You get the picture, I spread it around, and we both benefit.” Your phone buzzed, and you fished it out of your pocket. It was practically a brick (being locked inside Miguel’s spider-fortress meant you were blocked from contacting anyone outside of that fortress, apparently), but you still liked to keep it nearby. In the futile hope that you’d be able to call someone, anyone if you did ever make it out of Miguel’s reach, one day. “He still hasn’t gotten over the 2099-Burger. You’ve seen it, right? That was some of my best work, you should’ve seen—”

You shushed her, and LYLA flickered out of sight before reappearing on the foot of the bed, a polaroid camera now hanging from her neck. Slowly, carefully, you moved forward, only to pause when you actually reached Miguel. He wasn’t wearing anything, because he never wore anything aside from his nanotech and maybe a threadbare pair of sweatpants, if you caught him after a shower. It’d been too long since his last haircut. It was already splitting at the ends, fighting against his half-hearted efforts to comb it back and falling over his face, distorting part of his (relatively) peaceful expression. Even unconscious, he was frowning, but the dark circles under his eyes were less pronounced, his lips contorted into something that was more of a pout than his usual scowl. No wonder LYLA wanted a picture. There had to be more than a few Spider-People who’d want proof that their irritable leader could be something other than angry.

Half stalling for time, half trying to talk that better taste off of your tongue, you turned to LYLA. “Remind me why you can’t just take you own pictures, again?”

“Some of us are just a bunch of flashing light. Hot flashing lights, but y’know, lights.” She held up her miniature camera, and you looked away before the flash could blind you. “C’mon, you can’t say you don’t want to get back at him.”

Right. Getting back at him. This was supposed to be your way of getting back him. He kidnapped you, tore you away from your loved ones, locked you in a case of glass and metal, and you were going to help his AI assistant take a picture of him sleeping. The perfect revenge.

Digging your teeth into the inside of your cheek, you raised your phone, but before you could take LYLA’s picture and retreat back to your own room to sulk, an alarm you hadn’t set went off at full volume. You cursed under your breath, stabbing blindly at the screen in a panicked effort to shut it up before Miguel woke up, but an arm lashed out from Miguel’s heap before you could, catching you by the waist and dragging you into his chest just as the alarm mysteriously when silent. You clenched your eyes shut, bracing yourself for his claws embedded in your skin, for a growled threat, but nothing ever came.

You forced yourself to open your eyes and found that, despite everything, Miguel was still unconscious. You heard a camera shutter behind you – LYLA, her grin too smug not to be genuine. No doubt, you’d be able to see her handiwork on every screen she had access to by tomorrow morning - meaning, of course, every screen in Nueva York. “I thought you said you couldn’t—”

“He’s a deep sleeper. Very reactive, though – did I forget to mention that?” There was a pause, a wink. “Oopsies.”

You grit your grit your teeth. “Are you at least going to make him let me go?”

“Ah – flashing lights, remember?” Again, she flickered, reappearing an inch or so away from your face. “I’ll see you in the morning, lovebirds!”

You opened your mouth, but she was gone before you had the chance to protest. Still, you squirmed against Miguel’s vice-like hold, attempting to shove at his arm only for another to wrap around his midriff, only for him to pin you that much more tightly to his chest. There was a low, heavy grunt, then his nose nudging against the side of your throat, his lips ghosting over your skin. Slowly, instinctually, his fangs pushed into the curve of your neck, drawing out a pained whimper, a thin trail of blood. His teeth lodged in your throat, his body wrapped around yours, he settled against you, his breathing falling back into a steady rhythm. Making sure you’d stay where you were until he woke up – whether that was in one hour or eight.

It was all you could do to take a deep breath, close your eyes, and hope LYLA would lead you to a swifter death, next time.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #yanderecore #yancore

[moonstruckme]

Sorry for sending requests back to back lol, I keep having my brain work and it's crazy:

UR RECENT SIRIUS FIC GAVE ME AND IDEA! imagine poly!marauders where both reader and sirius speak french? And maybe reader uses it more when she sleepy (that's usually when I speak french), so she's just sleepily gushing to sirius abt him and james and remus and HOW MUCH SHE FUCKING LOVES THEM AND HOW PERFECT THEY ARE AND SHIT??? Omfggg

Sincerely, :]

Omg yes, thanks for requesting my love!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 719 words

“You’re all too nice to me,” you mumble as Sirius pulls your hair back into a loose bun, James washing your face with a moist cloth. “I love you guys. Not just for this, though. I love you in general.” 

Sirius’ lips curve as he watches bemusement find its way into James’ expression. He wonders if your decision to make your lovey-dovey declarations in French was even a conscious one, or if you’ve just defaulted to it as you sometimes do when you’re this sleepy. He decides to answer you in it regardless. “I love you in general, too, my sweetheart. And we’re not even as nice as you deserve.” 

“I don’t like it when they do this,” James says to Remus, even as he dries your face with a loving hand. “It’s exclusionary.”

“They don’t get it,” you lament to Sirius, catching his smirk in the mirror. “It’s so much nicer when you’re lazy. The words just flow.” 

“I don’t know,” Remus answers James, spitting toothpaste into the sink. “It’s kind of hot.” 

Sirius’ heartbeat picks up frighteningly quickly, but his grin is wicked as he leans his head on your shoulder. “Did you hear that, my love?” he asks, not bothering to whisper since no one but you can understand. “Remus Lupin thinks we’re hot.” 

“Even when they say your name?” James asks, gesturing to Sirius as if to emphasize his point. 

Remus gives Sirius a lingering look. It takes everything in him not to collapse onto the floor. Sirius looks down, breaking Remus’ stare, just to make sure he is indeed still wearing pants. “Especially then.” 

“But they could be saying anything!”

“He’s so pretty,” you say breathily, gazing at Remus. His brows raise at your devoted attention, a twinkle of amusement lighting his amber eyes. Your gaze slides to James, looking at you with suspicion. “They both are.” You turn your eyes last to Sirius, and it’s a different look than the one he’d just received from Remus, but it melts him just the same. “You all are. And all so good, and funny, and smart. I can’t believe my luck.” 

Sirius chuckles, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. “Me neither. Do you think they know?” 

You hum, leaning back and letting him support some of your weight. He takes it happily. It’s going to be one of those nights where you’re asleep before the rest of them have even made it to bed, he can tell. “Not well enough.” 

“Cease looking at me like that this instant,” James demands. “Moony, why do they look like they want to eat us?” 

“Doesn’t sound like such an awful idea,” you say through a yawn, pulling out of Sirius’ arms to move towards the bed.

He follows you. “True,” he says, casting a charged look back at his boyfriends. “I could probably gnaw on a bicep, now that you mention it.” 

“It’s kind of nice that not everyone can understand,” you observe drowsily as you slip under the covers. “Makes it easier to say what we mean.” 

Sirius laughs. “Of course these are your darkest, most secret thoughts, you softie.” He sits down on the bed, brushing a strand of hair from your lovely face. “If you couldn’t understand me, I’d be saying much filthier stuff.” He cocks his head. “Actually, you don’t know what braquemard means, do you?”

Your eyebrows cinch, and there’s a gasp from the bathroom a moment before James comes barreling into the room.

“I heard something!” He exclaims. Sirius smirks up at him from his place on the bed. “That brack-whatever—it’s dirty, I think. I’ve heard him use it before.” You snicker into your pillow, and James looks at you in horror. “Angel, what’s he roped you into? Is he corrupting you while we can’t protect you?”

“Interesting,” Remus hums, moving slowly towards the bed. He approaches Sirius, nudging the other boy’s legs apart and fitting himself between them. Sirius’ heart pounds against his rib cage as Remus tilts his head up, fingers curled lightly around his jaw. “Gonna tell us what you’ve got to say, pretty boy?”

Sirius takes a shuddering inhale, static filling his head as Remus strokes idly at his face. 

You make an amused harrumphing sound, and speak in English so everyone can hear. “Softie.” 

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders oneshot #poly!marauders one shot #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders scenario #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #the marauders era #marauders era #marauders #the marauders #marauders fanfic #marauders fic #hp marauders

[holylulusworld]

BFG (2)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: size kink, flirty reader, objectification of Reacher, language, violence, flirting

A/N: Please consider, that I do not follow the exact storyline of season one. Some characters known from the show may appear.

Catch up here: BFG (1)

BFG masterlist

Reacher made himself scarce over the following days. If not for the missing pie in your fridge and the fixed sink, you’d believe Reacher didn’t come to your home at all.

You don’t know what kind of business he has to take care of in your sleepy town, and you don’t want to know. He’s the kind of person you don’t ask too many questions. 

“Morning,” you chirp when you walk in on Reacher wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He emptied the rest of your orange juice, drinking right out of the carton.

“Morning,” he looks at you when you pass him by to look in the fridge. “I drank your orange juice and ate the leftovers. I’ll pay you back.”

“Nah, I’m glad you ate the lasagna,” you say while poking your head inside the fridge. “It’s great to have someone around who can eat. A big man needs a lot of food.”

“Uh-thanks,” he grins as you bend a little to look for the eggs. You stick your ass out, offering a perfect view of your ass to Reacher. “I took care of the sink in the kitchen, and I’ll have a look at the heater upstairs.”

“You earned your stay already.” You place the eggs on the counter. “Do you want to have breakfast before you go? I bet you didn’t get any food last night. No wonder you had to eat the leftovers.”

“I came back late and didn’t find the time to grab food,” he dips his head to watch you grab a pan. “I wouldn’t say no to eggs.”

“How about pancakes, eggs, and bacon,” you smirk. Reacher subconsciously licks his lips. He hums and drops his eyes to the eggs. “As long as you are around, I’ll make sure you eat well. I can’t have you starving.”

He laughs. A heartfelt laughter fills the room as you join him. It’s been a while since you felt comfortable enough around a man to be just you. 

That’s why you’re single at the moment. You hate playing a role and acting like you are a different person only because a man doesn’t like your attitude or personality. 

You are who you are. Nothing less and nothing more.

“You think I’m starving?” He challenges. 

“A man must eat to stay as big and tall as you,” you point out while unashamedly looking him up and down. “Now, pancakes yes or no?”

“I won’t say no to some pancakes and eggs…and bacon. Can I help you? I’m not a great cook, but I know a few tricks.”

“I bet you do,” you coo, and smirk. This man is a force of nature, and you try to show him that you can hold up with him. “What do you have up your sleeve, Mr. Reacher?”

Cocking your head, you watch him wipe his hand on his shirt. 

“Just Reacher, mom called me that too,” he says. “And she taught me a thing or two when it comes to cooking.” He reaches for the eggs. “I can prepare the pancakes if you want me to.”

“Your mom,” you hum. “I learned baking and cooking from granny and my mom.”

“Your door needs fixing too,” he casually says while cracking the eggs. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

“Oh?” you quirk a brow. “What’s wrong with my door?”

He sighs, long and a little exasperated. “It’s not safe. Anyone could break in and steal your leftovers,” his features darken, and he squares his jaw, “or worse.”

“I got a nice baseball bat I’m burning to test on someone’s face,” you grin, but your smile fades when he shakes his head. “What? I’m not some damsel in distress.”

“I know you are not but,” he places his hand on top of yours, “there are people out there stronger than you. Maybe even stronger than me.”

You glance at Reacher. Maybe he’s not wrong. This sleepy town used to be a safe and friendly place, but things changed.

“Okay,” you agree. “This town isn’t as safe as it used to be. If you have any suggestions, tell me. I’ll buy all you’ll need.”

Reacher and you work in silence, preparing breakfast for the two of you. You glance at him from time to time, wondering about his plans for this town. He came here for a reason. You only hope he stays a little longer than a few days…

“Coffee, black,” a familiar voice barks at Sally Ann. It could’ve been a nice day, but now it’s ruined. “Chop, chop! I don’t have all day. Move your ass.”

“A good morning to you too,” you glare at the unwelcome guest. Kliner jr. - a slimy bastard you can’t stand. He believes only because his daddy has more money than his spoiled son can count that he’s better than the other people in town. “What can we bring you today?”

“Coffee, black,” his tone doesn’t change, only the way he stares at you. He cocks his head to watch you turn around to get a cup for him. “You still got that juicy ass, huh? Did anyone already fuck it? Damn, I bet—”

His voice dies, and you hear something slam onto the counter. You assume he slammed his fist down. 

You twirl around to show him the way out only to watch Reacher press Kliner Jr.’s head to the counter.

He squares his jaw and lifts his hand only to slam the bastard’s head down onto the counter again.

“No one disrespects this lady in her diner or elsewhere,” Reacher whispers in Kliner Jr.’s ear. “I want you to nod if you understood what I said.”

“Do you know who my father is?” Kliner Jr. spats. He tries to act all tough, but it takes anything in him to not wet his pants. This beast of a man holds his head pinned to the counter and he’s got no clue how to free himself. “He’ll … he’ll…”

“He will do shit boy,” you snap at Kliner Jr. “Now get out of my diner or I will let you arrest for harassment.”

“Bitch!”

Reacher grabs Kliner Jr. but his neck, ready to slam him onto the counter again. “I want you to apologize to this lady. And you better mean it.”

“Fuck you!”

“Reacher. Stop.” You shake your head. “I’d like to tell you that he got the message, but he didn’t. He’s one of these guys who need a kick in the balls to leave a woman alone. I just don’t think anything will fix the mess in his head.”

Reacher looks you straight in the eyes, silently asking you if you want him to hurt Kliner Jr. even more. “You will get out of the diner and never come back. If I hear about you harassing her again, you will wish that you were never born.”

He releases Kliner Jr. and pushes him toward the door. “You are banned from the diner. Never come back.” You yell after him.

“Your coffee tastes like sweat either way,” Kliner Jr. spats while spitting blood onto the floor. “You fucked with the wrong guy.”

“You wish,” you snap and get your baseball bat out from under the counter. “You should be thankful he took care of you, not me. Betsy my bat would’ve made sure that you’ll never have a Kliner Jr.”

“You didn’t lie about that bat,” Reacher points at the baseball bat on the counter. “I knew you were trouble.”

“I could say the same about you.” You both chuckle at your flirty banter. “How about I give you a slice of pie for your help, sweetie.”

“That pet name sticks, huh?” He plops down on his seat. “Do you want me to wipe the counter?” Reacher looks at the blood on the counter. “I can clean up.”

“You handled the bastard, I can handle a little blood,” you wink at Reacher. “What do you want? Cherry, apple, or peach.”

“You know my taste.” 

“I see you are already working on my door,” you duck under Reacher’s arm to enter your house. “You know, I wanted to pay for the things you’ll need to make it safer.”

“I got it handled,” he shrugs and goes back to work. It looks like he is trying to protect the crown jewels or something. “I bought orange juice too.”

“Well, if you are done for today,” you lean against the wall next to Reacher, “I’ll make you something for dinner.”

He looks at you and smirks. “I’d like that. I’m almost finished.”

“I’ll be waiting for you in the kitchen. I got a beer for you too.”

You walk toward the kitchen, swaying your hips as you feel his eyes on you.

Smiling to yourself you decide to not let this man slip through your fingers.

Part 3

BFG Tags

@xxyaoi-nationxx, @lovestoreadfiction, @glambyk, @sonicthehedgedoggo, @thewitchesofart, @emily-roberts, @littlelearningbrat, @mcira

#reacher #reacher x reader #jack reacher x reader #reacher fanfiction #plus-sized reader #jack reacher x plus-sized reader #female reader #reacher x y/n