#i wish for the best pray for the best and hope for the worst

[sttoru]

♯ 𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊.

⟣ sypnosis. kento has been extremely busy lately, going on business trips and so forth. he decides to surprise you by coming back earlier than expected. that’s how you end up finding your lover on top of you, showering you in his affection at 3 in the morning.

⟣ tags. nanami kento x female reader. fluff, bit of angst, suggestive towards the end. reader gets called 'sweetheart, angel, dear' wc: 1.8k

⟣ note. okayokay finally an adition to my event heheh ive almost forgotten about it but then i saw this prompt & was like . ok nanami , i must write this rnnn no delaying anymore so here i am :3 its also very bad. i hate it sm LOL i hope u at least like it t_t

kento often asks himself why he had returned to the world he despised — the jujutsu society; his old high school. the sprawling curses everywhere are the main cause of his current misery.

he had been sent out on missions left and right, not catching a break in hopes of reducing any more civilian causalities than necessary. kento had even thought that maybe his previous 9-5 job wasn’t as bad as he had considered it.

overtime was every day for the sorcerer now. that wasn’t the worst thing - no - the fact that he was pratically living a long distant relationship with his beloved irritated him most.

a thought he had in his high school days reoccured in a moment of distress: ‘why not leave all those missions to gojo?’

you were still pretty understanding of his situation. kento appreciated that, though the guilt still ate away at him whenever he tried to sleep. an empty bed welcomed him each time he re-entered his hotel room — you saw the exact same scenery when returning home to your shared apartment.

both of you were adults; both knowing that life was unfair. the two of you being unable to see each other from time to time was a part of your life. kento and you still maintained a healthy relationship. that was all that really mattered in the end.

11:49PM. . . tonight wasn’t unlike any other night; you were preparing yourself to go to bed—changing into your pyjamas after showering, snuggling to a pillow under the covers and texting your lover one last message.

‘good luck on your mission as always! stay safe, i love you.’

you stare at your phone screen for a minute longer than intended. even if you tried to be mature about it — you longed for kento’s warmth and undivided attention. you want him with you, his strong arms holding you to his chest as you rest, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine in the best way possible.

you sigh defeatedly and put your phone down on your nightstand. just two days until you could see your partner again. you can hold onto that hope to keep you calm.

despite you trying to stay positive, you tossed and turned in your bed as you thought about kento’s safety. there was always a chance of him not coming home to you — always the possibility of that bed to be empty for the rest of your life.

all you could do was pray for his safety in your head whilst your eyes eventually closed from fatigue, your mind drifting off to a deep slumber.

03:14AM. . . kento opens the door he had wished to have opened way earlier. the door that lead to the place where his heart lays; the person who claimed his heart and soul for eternity. you.

he didn’t think he’d actually do it. kento had originally planned to finish his last job as soon as possible and then get home afterwards, but there seemed to be a change in routine.

the special grade sorcerer simply assigned the mission to ino — the person whom he could trust most to finish the job in one piece. as much as kento dislikes to put his juniors in possible risky situations, there are also situations where it’s fine to depend on them. besides, the mission could easily be done by a grade one sorcerer.

kento sighs. the familiar scent of your home was one he could recognise from miles away. one that could calm his nerves instantly. it was that same distinctive scent you carry; thus why your lover sometimes calls you his home.

‘i can’t wait to be home’ ‘i want to be home’ ‘i’m going home’ — all these sentences, which kento has uttered before in earlier conversations, weren’t referring to a place. rather to a person he held dear.

“oh, my sweetheart.” the blonde man whispers under his breath as his eyes catch the shape of your figure under the blankets. he quietly enters the master bedroom and closes the door behind him, not making a sound as to not interrupt your well-deserved sleep.

kento slowly undoes his dotted tie, along with the upper buttons of his blouse. he probably needs to go take a good shower before he could settle down with you — but that’d risk waking you up.

you look extremely angelic in his eyes. especially with your left cheek squished by the soft pillow your head rests on. you never once fail to convince him that you are indeed the woman of his dreams; the woman kento ever had and will have eyes for. it’s like you get more attractive to him as the days go on.

“mh,” your sudden and soft groan makes him realise just how disturbing his behaviour could be interpreted as. kento’s body was hovering over your sleeping one and he was just. . . staring at you with a soft smile. a smile which he didn’t even notice had permanently found its place on his weary face.

kento sits down on the edge of the mattress, callused hand gently tucking you in properly, putting the blanket over your shoulders to make sure you didn’t get cold. he can’t rest if you’re not comfortable— even if he himself was exhausted to the point his eyes were starting to feel heavy.

yet that exhaustion doesn’t last long. it never does when kento’s able to see you again after a tiring week of countless missions and other jobs. your presence alone grants him the energy to stay awake and take care of you. and himself. you’re the reason he keeps it going.

“i love you so much, my beautiful girl — my angel.”

kento sure was a romantic. even when you’re unaware and asleep.

he couldn’t help it; the feeling stirring inside of him. the feeling of adoration and love for you. you are simply resting, yet kento felt an urge to kiss you all over, show you the unending love he has for you. but. . that’d probably be disturbing your peace. you are sleeping after all. he

not that that would stop kento.

your eyes flutter open due to a sudden presence hovering over you. your entire face and neck area was feeling ticklish, like someone was placing tens of kisses all over the skin.

strands of blonde hair is the first thing showing up in your blurry vision. kento’s face follows afterwards as his head tilts back up, the warmth against your jawline disappearing along with it —

“ah, i’m sorry.” a low and almost guilty chuckle tumbles out of his sore throat. the visible confusion on your face makes him let out another, “shh, shh, it’s just me, sweetheart.”

your arms flew around kento’s torso the second the realisation dawns upon you. your heart went from a slow pace to one that caused your entire body to warm up immediately; the adorable reaction and increase in heart rate not going unnoticed by your lover.

you wordlessly hug him — almost still in shock by the sudden appearance. kento doesn’t fight off your tight embrace, instead, welcomes it with open arms. the delicate kisses on your skin continue, each being placed with precision whilst one of his hands keeps your head tilted a little — rough fingers being a contrast of the gentle grip they had on your jaw.

“i missed you lots,” kento murmurs, eyes closed as he basks in the warmth of your body, his lips refusing to let go of your neck, “i couldn’t wait anymore. i couldn’t be separated from you any longer or i’d lose it.”

his gruff voice sounded even deeper than it usually would. maybe due to the overuse of it during his missions. the lone thought makes you pout — the thought of kento working super hard just to provide for you both.

“i missed you more, love.” you mumble, bottom lip trembling a little as kento’s hug triggers a whole lot of emotions in you. his hugs were special, his muscular arms giving you a sense of comfort you couldn’t find anywhere. no one could hug you like he did, “you did well. you did so well.”

those were all the words kento needed. his lips come to halt right above your collarbone, his breath a bit heavy from how much he's holding himself back from doing more. one hand moves from your cheek to your waist, fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt.

“thank you, dear.” kento says. his words carrying a load of unending affection. your simple words of appreciation and encouragement makes him shiver in delight. this is what he longed for; this is what he did it all for.

it was clear. the answer to his question - of why he had returned to the jujutsu world, to become a teacher at his former high school - it was all for you. to be able to be with you, see you and hold you like this. to have someone like you appreciate all of his efforts.

“may i?” kento asks through a quiet whisper as he gently removes the blanket covering your figure, his eyes darting down towards your cleavage. he's asking for permission to cross that barrier — to cover you in the love you deserve.

you just stare at the blonde man above you for a second. you watch as he climbs onto the bed with you; the bed which was once empty and dull, now suddenly becoming your favourite place to be at. your fingertips graze against kento's sharp cheekbones. a habit you always did when you were appreciating his looks.

“go right ahead.” you answer with a confirming nod.

both of you were touch starved and had been deprived from each other's embrace for way too long. now was the perfect time to make up for all the time lost.

kento wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip past him. he smiles at you, a gentle and handsome smile, whilst a few of his blonde locks fall over his left eye — his hands already prying away the blanket covering your shape. it was time to show you just how much he has longed for you.

“hold on to me, sweetheart. i’m not stopping until you realise just how much i’ve missed all of you.”

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #jjk fic #jjk fanfic

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green

WC: 1329 Masterpost CW: stitches, blood, canon typical violence, history of experimentation, bad (lbh evil) parent Fentons “I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”

“We should be able to arrange a conversation,” Tim said immediately. None of the shock and concern that Tim must have been feeling seeped through into his words. Jason always admired how even keel Tim could seem.

The kid’s eyes snapped to Tim, brow furrowed in confusion.

Tim just shrugged. “He does good in the city, so do we. Besides, his kids are targeted a lot and sometimes we get involved to help out with that. There’s a line of communication that we can use.”

“So what?” They rasped. “You let every kid who wants to talk to Bruce Wayne get to just ‘cause they’re bleeding out?”

“He’d say that was a good enough reason,” Jason said with certainty. He knew how much money and effort Bruce poured into Make a Wish and the children's hospital.

The kid squinted at him before glancing away. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk to him… like this…”

“Then a safe house for right now,” Tim insisted. “Just like the name says, it’s safe. We can get you patched up and you can rest somewhere you don’t have to look over your shoulder. When you’re feeling better, we’ll set up that meeting.”

“You’ll let a stranger stay at your safe house, just like that?”

“Kid,” Jason said with a sigh. “I don’t think you’re getting it. You’re a very hurt kid. You’re exactly the type of person that we’d do that for. We’re the Bats of Gotham and we protect her people.”

There was that ugly laugh again. “I’m not even from Gotham.”

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters in Gotham,” Jason said. He took the risk and held out his hand. Jason didn’t pray anymore, not since his mother died, but he still silently hoped that the kid would take it. Jason felt certain they wouldn’t make it if they didn’t take it.

The fingers braced against the grimy cinder block wall twitched. Then the hand reached out. The kid collapsed forward into the motion and Jason lunged to catch them. He lifted them gently, worried about how light they were.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

The kid hid their face against Jason’s jacket. Their words were almost too quiet to hear. “I don’t know if you can.”

“Never underestimate what a stubborn Bat can do, Kid.”

-

The kid passed out halfway to the safe house. It was probably for the best. Their injuries were… extensive would be too kind of a word.

Tim laid down a plastic sheet on the bed before Jason deposited the kid down on it. The hoodie, which couldn’t be the kid’s at that size, had to be practically peeled off. The main wound that must have been the blood splatter he noticed was the immediate concern, but it was everything else that worried Tim more.

This was more than signs of abuse, this was torture or experimentation. Those scars and wounds cut into the kid’s arms and torso was far too even and controlled. There were other, messier scars that looked like burns and stab wounds. The inside of their elbows were littered with track marks and their hands bruised from what must have been IV ports. The worst for Tim was seeing the metal collar around the kid’s neck, but he knew that wasn’t what was getting Jason. He didn’t need to see Jason’s eyes to tell they were glued to the track marks.

“Go take five and fill a bowl up with warm water,” Tim said.

“Red—”

“Hood,” Tim snapped, cutting off Jason’s growl. Tim had suffered Jason’s bite, the bark didn’t scare him anymore. Besides, they understood each other these days. They were the Bats will willing blood on their hands. “Go take five. They’re not going anywhere and I need your help to patch them up, so go take five and get your head on, okay?”

The fight drained out of Jason like a string had been cut. He nodded and stalked off to the tiny kitchen that was basically an afterthought to the living room. It was hardly their most glamorous safe house but it was close, had two bedrooms, and was secure, despite it’s shoddy appearance.

Tim had the old bandages and scraps of cloth peeled off by the time Jason came back to start cleaning away the green blood.

“We need to get antibiotics for them from Leslie,” Jason said after the worst was cleaned up.

“Definitely. This new wound is from a knife and some of these were wrapped with what I think was an old hospital scrub.”

“Lends credence to…”

“Yeah.”

Jason nodded stiffly. “This needs stitches.”

“Luckily I think bandages are fine for everything else,” Tim said.

He snapped off the nitrate gloves and put on a fresh pair. He carefully numbed the skin around the wound while he waited for Jason to be in a spot to hold the kid down should they wake up. The first few stitches went fine. Tim took the time to be extra neat. The kid didn’t need any worse scars because of his sloppy work.

Tim had just started on the forth one when the kid started to stir. They twitched and whimpered in their sleep. Jason pressed down carefully to keep them from moving too much.

“No, Mom, please, I’m your son! I’m not— Don’t… not again. I’ll be good…”

Tim looked up at the impassive red helmet.

“I’m good. I have him. Just keep stitching so we can get him tucked in to bed.”

“Okay,” Tim said and got back to work. It was hard to ignore the whimpered words and everything they implied, but Tim needed to focus. There would be time to start looking into everything after.

It was as he was cleaning up that Jason threw a wrench into things.

“Don’t run his DNA.”

“What?” Tim hissed, rounding on Jason. “That is clearly Bruce’s kid in there!”

“Exactly. It’s obviously his kid, there’s no doubt in that with the way he looks. And just as obviously he’s been tortured or experimented on. Don’t you think he’s been stripped of his privacy enough?”

All the fight bled out of Tim an instant. “Fuck. I didn’t think… I just wanted to…”

“I know. You wanted to help by solving this, but that’s not what this kid needs right now. So hold off until he feels safe enough to consent, okay?”

“Okay, no, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Red,” Jason said, ruffling Tim’s hair with a wet hand. “Creepy stalking is just your way of caring, I get it. Just pull back a little this time. You can focus on that collar he’s wearing right now.”

Tim shuddered. “That thing needs to go. Am I staying on watch then?”

“If you’re fine with that. I’ll get Oracle to call the others to the Cave.”

“Sure,” Tim said. He didn’t want to miss that conversation, but someone had to stay with the kid and he was a better choice to get the collar off. “Just make sure I have a comm line in.”

“Of course. Can’t have you missing out on us discussing the old man’s sex life.”

“Ugh, never mind, I don’t need a comm line!”

“Too late!” Jason called out with a laugh as he headed for the door.

Tim flicked him off just to do so.

After double checking that the place was secure, Tim pulled out a tool bag. At least he could start by testing the collar for explosive residue or other traps that would keep Tim from taking it off. The thought of the collar being rigged made him sick to his stomach, but it fit too well with the canvas of scars that the kid bore.

“Who did this to you, Kid?” Tim asked, even though he knew he wouldn’t get a response. “And how soon can Hood put a bullet in their head for you?”

--- AN: So here's a little more of this for Trauma Tuesday! The Reds are very concerned! I'm still having fun writing a Jason and Tim who get along and understand each other in a way the other 'we don't kill' Bat's don't, threats of murder and all.

Sorry if there are lots of mistakes (I don't need them corrected, ty), it's been a bad fatigue spell here. Still hope you enjoyed it and stay delightful, darlings!

(Oh, and there's another continuation to the OG threaded to it by chroma if you want a different take!)

Masterpost you can subscribe to, as I no longer tag people!

#dp x dc #batpham #trauma tuesday #city pigeons

[bth3cowboi]

snoop the bells, cs55xreader

part 1 part 2

masterlist

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

summary: Sometimes marriage is the result you get by mixing two long term partners, devotion and a love for a Snoopy plushie.

format: social media au

a/n: some spanish translations at the end! hope you enjoy

( twitter )

( instagram )

ynraces 3h

liked by carlossainz55, lewishamilton and 1.455.675 others

carlossainz55 2h

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc and 988.765 others

ynraces

liked by carlossainz, scuderiaferrari and 5.667.987 others

ynraces C&Y 25’ ❤️🪐 Ready to start a new journey with you, my beautiful boy and husband. Can’t wait to see what life bring us from now on, I love you.

tagged carlossainz55, carlossainzoficial;

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user1 OMGGGG

user2 THE ROYAL WEDDING

carlossainzoficial Hermosos mis hijos

carlossainz55 Gracias papá ❤️

ynraces 🥹❤️

user4 wow this is beautiful I cant

user5 PAPA SAINZ🥹🥹

lewishamilton Congratulations guys🫶 Wishing you the best

ynraces Thank you Lew! Thanks for coming too

user6 LEWIS WAS THERE? WHO ELSE??

carlossainz55 Te amo😍

ynraces I love you too my bambi

charles_leclerc How do you even find a snoopy for this?

charles_leclerc Also congrats on the wedding

ynraces snoopy and WOODSTOCK

carlossainz55 She has a pinterest board for every snoopy situation

ynraces babe I got that ring and RAN to my romantic board

charles_leclerc Wow you have one for everytime you crash or lose the car?😂

ynraces yes😳 its in between my “snoopy charles getting FUCKED by ferrari” board and my “snoopy charles loses in his home gp” board!!

landonorris DAMNNN

landonorris She ate you up 🫵🫣🤣

ynraces I also have “snoopy lando norris getting his first win” but its empty

charles_leclerc HAHAHAHA

landonorris :(

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, f1 and 4.677.233 others

carlossainz55 My perfect wife, my perfect girl. La mujer más guapa y especial que he podido conocer. I can’t imagine what life would be without you by my side so I will make sure to do everything right so you can stay with me forever. ❤️ I will always cherish this day, thank you.

tagged ynraces;

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user1 wow my parents🥺🥺

landonorris 🫶🫶 Love you guys

liked by carlossainz55, ynraces and 3.556 others

user2 ay the getting ready pic😭😭 im crying

user3 they just love each other too much your honor!!

sebastianvettel So happy for you! Congrats😊

ynraces thanks seb youre the best i miss you come back thank you again

user4 I get it girl I miss seb too💔

fernandoalo_oficial Vamos chicos💪 Felicidades

ynraces Mi puto padre💪💪

carlossainz55 Gracias!!

ynraces I know I want to stay with you forever, thank you for making me the happiest and luckiest girl! Sharing life with you is enough to keep me content, can’t ask for more:)

carlossainz55 Wow I love you

user5 Im sorry I cried

user6 yn being this serious and romantic just killed me

georgerussel63 👏👏❤️

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, ynraces and 2.400.876 others

landonorris Mr & Mrs Sainz wedding was kinda fire🔥🔥🔥

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user1 FERNANDO?? GEORGE?

user2 ehmmm have you seen CHARLES?

user3 How much alcohol was ingested omg

ynraces too much and yet not enough!!

user3 omg!!! girl CONGRATS!! I LOVE YOUR HUSBAND AND YOUR BABYYY

ynraces thank you thank you my babys the best (sometimes the husband too)

user4 thank you lando🙏 this is what i want to see

user5 Lando said f your wife, first pic is your father and us

landonorris I HAD TO PUT ME FIRST

carlossainz55 Thought this was jpg material🤔

landonorris Naaa my besties deserve to be on the main

charles_leclerc Well it should be, because I don’t remember that last photo

landonorris Oh those aren’t even your worsts… I’ve seen things

ynraces Send them ASAP I want to remember some things

carlossainz55 Send the red bull one

scuderiaferrari Should we get worried?🤔

charles_leclerc 😐😐

ynraces LOLLLLLLL U ARE GETTING DEMOTED 😹 🫵

charles_leclerc I wish the worst to that plushie of yours, I hope he gets lost

ynraces I pray you never win another GP in your life and you bring shame to every team you race for in the next ten years

ynraces Also his name is Baby Snoopy have some respect

carlossainz55 Ok that’s enough baby😘

ynraces k bbygirl😍🩷

user6 ☝️☝️That escalated quickly

user7 nah they know damn well to not mess with the dog

user8 this is lovely😭 and the kiss… wishing them and baby Snoopy the best!

——

translations: (in order of appearance)

Hermosos mis hijos: My beautiful kids.

La mujer más guapa y especial que he podido conocer: The most special and beautiful woman that I have ever met.

Vamos chicos. Felicidades: Let’s go guys. Congratulations!

Mi puto padre: My fucking father (Direct translation of a Spanish joke! They call Alonso father in sign of respect lol)

a/n: A lot of people wanted more Snoopy! So here it is!!!! If you want to read more don’t be shy and send me asks with requests! I will be working on them when I’m not too busy with college stuff<3

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 imagine #cs55 x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #cs55 #snoopycarlos

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 3

Previous Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But goddamn, Oliver Quick was a fucking close runner-up.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, slight mention of blood, sexual harassment, Felix is delulu and kind of a pig, Reader just wants some fucking peace, Michael is Michael and the best, Oliver is Oliver (the worst)

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who commented and reblogged! I didn't expect this story to gain so many readers, and this was a challenging chapter to write - but only because there were some scenes I couldn't add because it would have gotten too long otherwise.

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

You really wanted to kick yourself in the pants for making such a fucking cheesy wish at night watching the stars with Michael.

Right now, you were leaning to rest your head against a bookshelf in a slant position. You had a splitting migraine that began from the moment you woke up and worsened with nausea from your tutorial. And you couldn’t even go back to your dorm for the rest of the day because your lab course for your gen-ed didn’t allow for absences.

“What’d she do now?” came a voice on your right.

You looked to the right and were blinded by a white and blue-striped button-down shirt with short sleeves tucked into a pair of tan khaki pants.

Your knight-in-silver-framed glasses, Michael Gavey, everyone.

All the guy was missing was a pocket protector with pens and tape wrapped around the bridge, and he would have matched every bullied kid in every high school movie set in the 80s.

You turned around to lean your back against the bookshelves and slowly lowered yourself until your butt was parallel to your feet. Blowing the stray hairs out of your face, you remembered to take deep breaths to prevent you from blowing up at your only friend.

“No,” you sighed, “well – yes, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Do you love your classes? Yes. Was Daria Martin still your art teacher, and did she still like you? Yes. Are the rest of your teachers mostly assholes that think all Americans are Appalachian hill-billies? Also, yes. But were you still not excelling and scoring in the top ten after every exam? Naturally, no doubt about it.

But were you as invisible and unnoticed as you were before the break came? No. Did anyone with a pulse give you side-eyed glances after your stunt with the 24/7 shit-faced He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named? Pretty much, yes. Did most of your problems come from one mythic bitch in a 5’3” flesh suit that had the ‘Juicy’ logo plastered on her ass? Namely, one in particular, Annabel – who was your assigned student partner in your tutorial.

Was your new name among the student body now “Psycho Bitch”? …Unfortunately, yes.

…Okay, so this term has not been going as well as you had hoped during the break.

Annabel hated you – like hated-HATED you. And you had no idea why.

You were pretty sure you were less than blank air to her last term, but now she was determined to make your life a living hell. Last term, she skipped every other session to do whatever Annabel did. But now, it felt like she came to every tutorial for the opportunity to tear apart your work.

You’re pretty confident she was the one who started your new “name” about a few weeks ago when the weather began to warm up.

It’s not as if you were a stranger to being picked and prodded by the people born with silver spoons on their tongues and blessed with golden-tipped wings. You were a public-school kid from grades K-12 who went to Townsend Harris for those last four years. Townsend Harris High School was a public school, but make no mistake – it was just as full of the same bullshit hierarchy that made up every private school in Manhattan.

"Open the doors to all. Let the children of the rich and the poor take their seats together and know of no distinction save that of industry, good conduct, and intellect."

What crock. You only survived those years because every kid knew that your dad was an NYU professor who knew the Dean of Admissions of Columbia. You couldn’t recall how often you wished you had joined your friends at Flushing High or even Bayside.

However, regardless of the snide snarks and bullshit snickers pointed at you, you were left alone for the most part.

Sure – it sucked; that goes without saying. It was naïve of you to assume that people would grow out of the need for drama once they walked through the ivory doors and marble floors of higher education. It was stupid of you to think that everyone would forget about your outburst at Bodleian while they were getting drunk on the New Year.

And while Annabel was one migraine-inducing problem, she wasn’t the worst part of returning. No, that title belonged to her boyfriend, a whole other can of monkeys.

The worst part – the worst part of EVERYTHING – was how Felix fucking Catton was incapable of just leaving you the hell alone. It was like he had a little antenna sticking out of his head specifically for you whenever the two of you were within a ten-foot radius of him. Everywhere you went, it was as if you had a giant blinking arrow above you screaming, “Felix Catton’s New Toy”!

No, you were less than a toy – you were a joke, a gimmick.

God, you should have just stuck to your original plan and applied to any SUNY school that would have accepted you without even looking at your application.

But no, your good-Samaritan-obsessed college counselor called your parents and complained that you weren’t “putting yourself out there” enough. And now you were over thirty-four hundred miles away from home, stuck with the worst people ever. It was like a thousand tiny prickles were running on your skin as your mind filled with static.

Whenever Felix called out to you, it was to invite you to a party or get wasted. One time, he walked up to you insanely plastered and invited you for a quickie in the men’s bathroom. You were in an empty lecture hall since your usual spot in the library was taken, and Michael was still in class, so you didn’t see the point in trying to find an open spot.

Somehow – without you noticing – the guy plopped himself next to you and asked if there were any rooms in the building where he could smoke a joint in.

“Pretty sure you could open the window in the bathroom to smoke in there,” you replied absentmindedly.

And then he put his hand ON YOUR THIGH, leaned to your ear to whisper, “Wanna get out of here to join me? We don’t have only to get high.”

You grabbed all your shit and booked it – out of the building and all the way to your dorm to take a shower that lasted for around twenty minutes. You wanted to get rid of the smell of nicotine and overpriced aftershave. The scent of him on your skin made you wish you could tear it off.

And in your panic, you left your bike at the building’s entrance.

When you returned to retrieve it, it was after dark, and you recruited Michael as your tall and bony human shield.

“Do not ever walk home alone at night,” your mom told you every morning you left for school.

You tried not to think about the haunted look in her eyes each time she told you.

“Wanna skip the dining hall tonight? We can walk to Crowley Street and order take-out at that Pakistani place you like so much.”

Oh, that perked you right up. Jannahs Express was a broke college student’s paradise. The food was cheap, and the owners took pity on the international students. It was slightly more expensive in the UK, but it was the closest you could find with food on par to Kababish on Broadway in Queens. You stifled a laugh remembering the sight of Michael drinking the entire pitcher of water after you dared him to try a dish at ‘regular.’

“Seriously? Do you think you could take more than ‘English-mild’?” you asked as you stood up. “How did you survive your mom’s cooking for so long? She made us Indian food on our last night.”

“Mum grew up in London, and she had neighbors teach her how to make it the traditional way. You’re the only person who could take that level. Lilypad and I got Dad’s taste buds.”

Choking on your spit from laughing at the image of Gregory Gavey’s face turning firetruck red, you felt the migraine slowly disappear.

“Yeah, I’ll bet. God, I can’t imagine the look on his face when –”

A familiar voice that left a bitter taste in your mouth after hearing interrupted your conversation.

“Hey, (Y/N). Can we talk?”

You and Michael turned your heads to find Oliver Quick – Michael’s former friend, your former acquaintance – and the sight of him soured the mood instantaneously. You narrowed your eyes to dangerous slits to show your displeasure seeing him as one corner of your lip curled to show a sneer. You never liked the guy. There was just something about how he acted and presented himself. He had a profound desperation to impress everyone around him.

So much so that he immediately dropped Michael after becoming Felix Catton’s new pet. As evidenced by the oversized gray zip-up hoodie blanketing him. Felix’s, no doubt.

Fuck, you hated him.

“Ugh, what do you want?” you snapped, taking a bit of pleasure in seeing how your voice made him flinch.

“Look, can we –” his eyes hastily darted to Michael, then you, then behind him to make sure no one was watching him “– can we talk in private?”

Seriously? That’s how he wants to play this?

In the corner of your eye, you saw how tightly Michael clenched his fists. He was obviously still hurt from the time his ex-friend treated him like shit.

Oh, this will not do.

“Oliver,” you snarled as you crossed your arms over your chest, “whatever the hell you have to say to me, you can say in front of Michael.”

“Can you please not do this now?” he begged with pathetic eyes. How very in-character of him.

“Tick tock, Quick. Are you going to talk, or do I have to throw a drink in your face again? But this time, I’ll smash the glass on your face, too.”

Seeing the look on his face gave you almost a perverse sense of joy. Maybe this is why bullies exist.

“Do you think you’ll be at the pub sometime this week?”

What the fuck? Was he serious? His question caught you completely off-guard. You expected him to ask for notes or even help with homework, as his grades have slipped since becoming an official Felix Catton fanboy.

“At the pub – Oliver, when have I drunk alcohol in the entire time we’ve known each other?”

“You’ll turn nineteen this year, right? It’s only illegal if you’re under 18,” he tried to put out convincingly.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. But you’re forgetting the part where I’m still an American citizen. Just because it’s legal for me to vote doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to drink yet.”

“No one cares about that here!” he almost shouted. “Just come with me to the pub at King’s Arms for the next few nights.”

“No fucking way,” you scoffed. “My parents would kill me if they found out I drank on a school night. Also, in case you forgot, we still have our test tomorrow in History. And I, for one, don’t need to get sloshed every night to feel important.”

Michael tugged on your sleeve and nodded at the small crowd forming around you three. You sighed in silence, agreeing that it wasn’t worth it. You both tried to walk away, but you were grabbed and stumbled back, which caused you to drop your books.

“Ow! Are you kidding–” but a wince broke your complaint as Oliver’s hold on your arm tightened to a painful grip. Your eyes traveled to his face, and you were shocked to see the anger shining in his eyes.

“Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” he grit out. “Are you trying to ruin my life?”

The way his nails dug into your skin made you curse under your breath. Seeing you in pain broke Michael out of his shock at how someone as meek as Oliver Quick could show so much aggression. He rushed to get him off you.

“Are you fucking mental?” he hissed at Oliver once he managed to separate to two of you.

But Oliver’s nail left red scratch marks down to your wrist, even breaking the skin enough to cause little beads of blood to escape. This enraged Michael like you have never seen. Staring at the evidence of his former friend’s clawing, he walked forward and pushed him to the bookshelf before grabbing his shirt with both hands.

“What’s wrong with you?” Michael yelled. “She already said no!”

You wiped the blood off your arm with an old travel tissue pack you stole from the plane you took from JFK to London last summer. God, everyone was staring at you guys now. You needed to find a way to contain the situation. If any staff catches you, all three of you may risk trouble. Trouble that would jeopardize your scholarships. You grabbed Michael’s hands to get him to loosen his grip.

“Look, I’ll hear you out–” you looked around and cringed at everyone’s stares, “–just not here.”

This calmed Oliver’s rage enough to get Michael to let go.

“Okay,” he whispered, “okay – yeah. Let’s go outside.”

The three of you grabbed your shit and quickly exited the library. You went to the same area behind the building with no windows – ergo, no bystanders to gawk at you.

“Okay, we’re outside. Look, I’m sorry about your arm. But can you please just –”

You lifted your hand to stop him.

“Okay, look. I only said I would hear you out to make you and Michael stop fighting,” you stated matter-of-factly. “None of us could afford to get in trouble with the faculty and staff, and it was getting too out-of-hand. Oliver, I am not going to King Arm’s tonight or any night you ask me. I have my own life, so don’t drag me into yours.”

Oliver gaped like a fish for a few seconds before speaking.

“But you have to! Please! If you do, then maybe he’ll –”

“WHO?” you interrupted, shouting. “Who will be there? Who is so important that you act so fucking psycho for five minutes ago?”

This was too much for you to deal with everything on your plate already.

“Cut the vague bullshit already! Why are you desperate for me to be there? It’s so –” You froze as an epiphany struck down you.

Oh, hell fucking no…

“Are you hoping that Felix will be there?” you asked through clenched teeth.

You felt like a volcano ready to blow with his slight nod. And like a volcano – you blew.

“You mean to tell me that you risked all our asses, attacked, and humiliated me for fucking FELIX CATTON?!”

You couldn’t believe it – you couldn’t fucking believe it. Felix Catton took up so much of your life already; once again, he felt it necessary to take more of it for himself.

How much more could one man take? How much more did he want until it was enough?

He had taken so much – more than any person other than yourself had any right to own. Your education, your peace, and what was next? Your body? Your life? Did he intend to bleed you dry of everything like a parasitic vampire he and his kind pretended not to be?

You were going crazy, insane, and running yourself tired all at once. The absurdity of it all made you laugh. You laughed and laughed and laughed until you were gasping for air. You laughed so hard that tears spilled from your eyes as you doubled over.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god! That’s it. Of course, it is. What else could it be?”

Standing straight, you kept laughing, but you were staring at Oliver with an answer clear in your eyes.

“He got bored of you,” you accused him, “didn’t he? So quickly?”

God, how you relished how red his face turned. If you were smart, you would have stopped taunting there – but you were too tired of everything to care.

“It’s been what? A month? Maybe two?” you further pressed. “He really just loves to go through all his toys, huh?”

“(Y/N),” Michael whispered in your ear, “let’s just go.”

He looked at Oliver with disdainful eyes before softening them to look back at you.

“He isn’t worth it. Come on, let’s get your cut cleaned up before we leave.”

You let Michael gently drag you away from the hurricane mess that was Oliver Quick, leaving him to stew in anger and wallow in self-pity on the chilly spring night.

A few days later, you and Michael were walking back to his dorm after watching one of the most notable movie franchises starring one of Hollywood’s best actors.

“How could you not love Pirates of the Caribbean?” you cried. “Johnny Depp is beyond brilliant!”

“Oh, so acting drunk in front of an expensive camera is now considered brilliant?” he quipped back. “Shit, I should have just gone into acting instead.”

“I’m sorry, do you not remember his jar of dirt? That scene was completely improvised, by the way – including his fall.”

“Oh – not the stupid jar of dirt! Lil’ kept buggering me all summer doing that scene after I took her to see it!”

“Oh, I meant to ask. What did Lily think of the books I got for her birthday? Were they weird?”

“Are you kidding? She loved them. She keeps going on about how she wants to be Annabeth for Halloween. Oh, by the way, she’s making me dress up as Luke and wants you to go as Thalia.”

Your jaw dropped in shock. “Seriously?! Yes, let’s do it. I am so in.”

“She is aware that Luke’s the villain, right?”

“Don’t worry about it so much. She wants to share these memories with you. And you are such a good brother, Mikey.”

“I am never going to escape that name with you,” he groaned, “am I?”

“Nope!” you happily confirmed. “Never! When I write my speech at your wedding, I will mention it at least fifteen times.”

“I’ll allow six.”

“Twelve.”

“Ten, take it or leave it.”

“Ten it is. Pinky-swear.”

You held out your pinky to show sincerity. And like someone raised correctly, Michael respected the sanctity of the swear by reciprocating.

“Perfect! Now that that’s settled, is it okay if I crash at your place for the night? It’s so late, and we don’t have classes tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “Just make sure you – Annabel.”

Wait, what? You stopped walking and turned to look at your friend in confusion.

“Annabel?”

He pointed it out in front of him with a slight nod.

“Annabel,” he confirmed.

Indeed, it was Annabel. But she was sitting slumped against the hallway’s walls with vomit all over her blue dress.

Felix had been going mad for the past few months since his and Farleigh’s return to Oxford. It was already almost May, and he hadn’t come any closer to getting (Y/N)’s attention.

What could he possibly be doing that was so wrong?

He invites you to parties or a drink with you every time he sees you. He had hoped that being friends with Ollie would have given him an “in” with you, but there was no such luck. Did you really have no idea how he felt about you? How much more obvious could he be?

He remembered how happy he was when he realized that Oliver knew you. It was that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms. He recalled it so vividly.

Felix was silent throughout the entire transaction. The sight of you coming over entirely transfixed him. Your hair had two small braids on the side that were attached with small yellow butterfly clips. You were wearing black denim overalls with vintage-looking patches sewn onto the fabric. Your shirt was a light blue-dyed shirt-sleeved t-shirt with splotches of navy blue. It must have been something you made when you were little. The fabric looked soft and worn down. But the size was small enough to hug the curves of your upper torso perfectly. The way the fabric stretched across your tits made him salivate.

After he introduced himself to you, you only responded with a grimace and a slight nod of acknowledgment. He invited you to join him and his friends for a drink, but you only ignored him. His words were meaningless breezes to you – white noise in the background that added to the clang and chatter in the room. He wasn’t even paying attention to Oliver until you threw that drink at him.

“Fucking cunt-rag!” you called Ollie after throwing Farleigh’s drink in his face. You shoved a middle finger for added effect. “Don’t ever show your face in front of me again.”

Grabbing your coat, you stomped away from the table.

Absentmindedly handing his friend some tissues, Felix had to know what your deal was with Oliver. Were you two dating or just friends? He didn’t know how he felt about his new friend being romantically involved with his angel.

“Wait, do you two know each other?” he asked.

“What?” asked Oliver – not understanding his idol’s question before his mind finally registered it. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, she’s a friend of a friend.”

“Were you two ever, like ‘together’?” Felix had to know.

Oliver’s eyes widened a bit before shaking his head and panickedly answering.

“No, no, no. We have a few classes together – that’s it.”

Felix couldn’t believe his luck. Ollie must really be his hero.

“Do you think you could introduce us?” he asked excitedly – his molten chocolate eyes were shining ablaze with hope.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Oliver quickly agreed – anything to keep his attention on him.

Felix felt like leaping to the sky. He could run a marathon with how much energy was flooding throughout him. He clapped his hands before grabbing Ollie’s face with both hands and smacking a wet kiss on both cheeks.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Felix went up to get him another pint. “You’re my hero, Ollie. You really are.”

As he lay on his bed, he tried to remember every interaction with you. His last one with you was something he could admit went horribly wrong.

He wandered on the grounds when he stumbled on a building with your bike on the rack. Figuring that you were just in a lecture, Felix figured he could try to catch up with you when it was done. It wasn’t like he had anything important later. He would stay near the entrance and try to catch your attention when you walked out.

Simple.

And because he was God’s favorite, he found you sitting in the middle of an empty classroom. You were taking notes while reading a massive textbook while lightly bobbing your head to whatever was blasting through your earbuds.

Sliding to the seat next to you, he smoothly asked you if there was any room where he could smoke. You didn’t even bother to look at him while answering him – too fixated with your studies to pay attention to him.

Knowing that he had to get you to look at him through more direct actions, Felix impulsively put his hand on your thigh before asking you if you wanted to join him. He even joked, saying that you didn’t only have to get high.

But seeing the terror in your eyes threw him off. He quickly wanted to tell you that he was only joking. If you knew that he wasn’t being serious, maybe you would ease up around him. But before he could apologize, you frantically stood from your seat to gather your books in your bag before running out of the room.

Felix groaned into his hands as he recalled how fast you ran out of the room and away from him.

“Felix, you’re a fucking idiot,” he softly insulted himself.

God, what the hell was wrong with him? Why did he think that someone as studious as you would ever consider getting high with some bloke in the bathroom of an academic building?

Every step he tried to take forward with you felt like he was going ten steps back. He needed to find a way to get on your good side.

Maybe Ollie could – no, that was a dead end. Fuck, he needed a drink.

Lying on his bed, Oliver stared at the ceiling of his room. Annabel had just left with the bottle of vodka they had been drinking out of for the past half hour. He wanted to cry.

Why was everything going wrong?

But he knew the reason. It was you.

He was so naïve to think you wouldn’t be an obstacle. You had practically ruined everything from the beginning. It wasn’t just when you refused to help him the other day but also that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms.

While Felix was ordering him a drink, Oliver sat bewildered at the sequence of events that had transpired in the past five minutes. First, Felix invited him over to sit with him and his friends. And when things had been so well, you interrupted his excellent time by asking where Michael was. When you realize he has left your friend alone, you ask for Farleigh Start’s drink before throwing it in his face. You then called him a “cunt-rag” before storming off like a goddamn child.

Luckily, Felix hadn’t listened to you speak. But that was only because he stared at you – stared at you like he was born to worship you. Even worse, Felix asked him if he could introduce the two of you at some point. The way Felix’s eyes widened in glee when Oliver agreed enraged him – even more than when you insulted and almost humiliated him in front of Felix.

Staring at his back, Oliver figured Felix’s attention on you wasn’t something to worry about. He was only interested in you because you were pretty. As much as you infuriated him, Oliver admitted that you had a rare and genuine beauty to you. He didn’t know whether it was your indifference for Oxford’s gods and kings or your dedication to keeping in touch with your American roots – but it was enough to enrapture Felix Catton temporarily.

No, Oliver Quick had no reason to worry. He would be enough for Felix. And then you would be an afterthought, and he’d be Felix Catton’s everything.

Oliver had to find a way to ensure you wouldn't be a problem anymore. You'd comply - there would come a time when you won't have a choice.

Let me know if you want me to write the full scene of Reader throwing the drink at Oliver!

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindnow, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes

Please comment and/or reblog your thoughts and if you want to be added to the taglist!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #michael gavey x reader #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie

[dollwrites]

ᴀɴɢᴇʟs ᴏғ sᴍᴀʟʟ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ᴜʀᴏɢɪ & ᴋᴀʀᴀᴋᴜ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!hashira!reader, noncon, breeding kink, descriptions of blood and injuries, instant loss / bad end trope, dvp, the boys are meanies, choking, degradation, lots of cum, brief oral sex ( m! ), fingering, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 ∣ @serenesaku [ thank you so much, i hope you like it! ]

“If you drop her, our fun’s over before it even starts!” you can faintly hear Karaku harping, and your head rolls around on your neck— it feels like jelly, hardly able to support the weight of your head as it droops backwards to look up at the demon who has you in his grasp. his talons are wrapped so tightly around one of your wrists that you can see a trickle of ruby, feel it as it runs down the length of your forearm. the blood mingles with the dirt and scuff that clings to your skin as you hang there, suspended in the air by merely his claw’s grip on your arm. “Give her to me already!”

all of the muscles in your arm were on fire, sore and aching, and you felt as though the pull of your weight on the one limb had knocked it out of socket. that wasn’t the worst of your injuries, however, but most of the pain from the battle had numbed at this point, anyways.

you don’t even remember where your sword had clattered, broken and useless. wherever was, it was well out of your reach as the demon flies you higher and higher, as if planning to perch you atop the moon itself.

it had been quite the game to him already, flying you higher, and then loosening his grip to let you slip just far enough to gasp and fear the plummet, before he gripped your arm again. at this point, you were praying to whatever god could allow this to happen that they would simply kill you already and get it over with. being toyed with would’ve been scary enough, but you were Hashira, and you were supposed to win this fight. not become a demon’s marionette under the moonlight.

Urogi glances down, smirking with putrid delight as he sees the dulled, defeat-snuffed gaze as you take in your position. “Wishing I would really drop you, demon slayer?” he was mocking you, spitting the words as if they were soaked in acid. “Let you die this easily?” a low cackle bubbles up from his throat, amber eyes burning. “Not a chance.” the violent flap of his wigs send blades of cold wind through your hair and ruffles your torn uniform, you could swear the sheer force of it nicks your cheek as he swoops downward, diving towards the ground. “We’re not done playing yet!” the speed makes your head spin, but you’ve not enough energy to squirm or try to stop the impending collision, so you close your eyes, brows furrowed, and brace for impact.

it comes, but not in the way you expect. with a flick of his talons, Urogi flings you from his grasp and into Karaku’s, who laughs wickedly at the way you smack against his chest like a sack of potatoes, and then try your best to grasp his shoulders. you wanted to regain some semblance of control over yourself, find your footing, but he wasn’t having it. both fists grasp your wrists and pull them back. your knees buckle with a gasp of pain, and you’re once again supported only by a demon’s will, and his hold on your arms. you dangle there, clenching your weak fists. “‘M… going to…”

Karaku’s emerald gems light up, “You’re going to what? Kill me?” you didn’t have to nod, but you do so weakly, and he leans close. only inches from your lips, his fiery breath washes over you. you shy away from a demon for the first time in your life, letting out a soft whimper, “You’re not going to do anything, girl, but let me tell you what we’re going to do to you.”

as Karaku speaks, his lips moving and grazing your cheek the closer he gets, you feel the ground shake beneath you when Urogi lands behind you, talons cracking rocks beneath his powerful feet.

“We’re going to rip this demon killing uniform off,” Urogi’s claws work diligently to make good on his counterpart’s promise, shredding the fabric of your top, down through your pants until the black garments fall away in defeated, little strips. Karaku croons yo you, in amusement, “it’s not like it’s useful, anymore. Your demon killing days are over.” you let out a grunt of discomfort, feeling the drag of his talons against your stomach, biting at your vulnerable flesh. “But your demon serving days? Well, those have just begun.”

“— And we’ll defile your defenseless, human body.” Karaku flashes insanely sharp teeth in a daunting grin as Urogi finishes his threat, his talons grasping your thighs to hoist them up. your feet, that were dragging against the ground prior to this not sweep from the ground, and dangle helplessly as he spreads your legs. completely exposed to the one thing you were meant to hate in this world, the thing you’ve trained your whole life to kill, you felt disgusting and shameful, and your thighs twitched and fought against his strength to close. “Until it all but gives out.”

Karaku takes one look at your cunt as it’s presented to him, and a low gurgle of lust rumbles in his throat, dropping your hands to, instead, jab two fingers inside abruptly. you cry out and immediately grapple at his arm with one hand, trying to pull his hand out, while the other grabs for his horn and forehead, pushing with all your might, squirming and writhing, but you’re trapped. “Stop—!!” but Karaku’s guffawing drowns out your weak demand. his fingers are thick and rough as they pump into your unprepared core, though the rough treatment coaxes your arousal to life, encouraging you to soak his knuckles as he scissors them inside you. pressing his calloused fingertips against your inner walls, he can feel them spasm and tighten.

“Tighter than I expected,” his voice is a low, raspy growl as his fingers work relentlessly inside you, pummeling over delicate nerves. you can’t help but pant and groan, but you try to steel your glare, and push him off. “Your little Hashira buddies haven’t fucked you out yet?” his digits spread, testing the elasticity of your insides, and you moan, haplessly. “All those muscles and no brains. They promote a useless, little piece of fuck meat and don’t even take advantage?”

Urogi giggles from behind you, his lips close to your ear as he hisses. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of that.”

Karaku, using his free hand to retrieve his cock, wraps his fist around the girth and pumps it to life at the same velocity with which he finger fucks you, and his fangs peek out against his bottom lip as he bites down on it, moaning low and guttural. “I broke her down, so I want to fuck her first.”

Urogi had been taunting you, kissing at the shell of your ear, whispering threats and excitedly watching you jerk and squirm to get away from him, but when Karaku says this, he pauses. you can feel the air behind a powerful grit of his teeth, as if Karaku’s claim annoyed him. “We broke her together—“

“Shut up,” Karaku waved off his counter’s nagging, grasping his ready cock at the base and guiding between your thighs. replacing his fingers with his cock was a sudden switch, and a size difference your body wasn’t prepared for. “I’m already in.” your eyes widen, your nails scraping at his horns and his face as he forced his way inside you. your walls spasmed and fluttered around the intruder, clamping down, instead of trying to push him out, and your back arches. the movement was intended to bring you a moment of reprieve, and shove him out of you, but the curve of your body only gives him the room he needs to slide hilt deep.

“F—fuck!” you exclaim; you can’t help it. the force behind his nesting is almost too much to bear, and you grind your teeth, glaring up at him weakly, with your thighs trembling. Urogi’s claws dig into them, blood beading to the surface as you struggle. “Y—you despicable, vile… uh!!” you were just about to make your stand, demand he pull out of you or else you would find a way to kill him with your bare hands, but his hips rocked suddenly. back and forth, falling into a rough and hungry pace that had you scrambling for breath, your feet flopping in the air. “Y-you can’t…!!”

Karaku howls with pleasure, both of his hands now wrapping around your throat, instead, a wild and primal look in his wide eyes. his lips are etched into a permanent, open mouthed smile as he fucks you with reckless abandon, cackling and crowing as he does so. “Aha! It’s been such a long time since I’ve had tight, warm human cunt!” his thumbs press against your windpipe, teasing it closed until you’re clawing at his wrists, gurgling pleas to breathe. it was hard to focus on anything but the lack of oxygen, and yet the sound of your squelching and the smack of his balls against you pounded in both of your ears. “It’s good,” his tongue flicks at his teeth, his breaths coming out in ragged breaths, “the more I choke you, the tighter your cunt squeezes me!”

Urogi was smiling again, his eyes flickering down to the join of your bodies to watch Karaku’s cock slide in and out at a rapid pace. if he zeroed in, he could see your entrance clench down on him, as if to keep him anchored within you, and he chortles low, nipping at your earlobe. “It almost seems like she likes it, listen to how wet she is. Choke her harder, I want to see her cheeks turn purple.”

you shake your head, fervent, “D-don’t!!”

you didn’t want them to hear how your body betrayed you, how it spat and sputtered, grateful to be decimated with demon cock, but even that scream sounded less reluctant. your sounds were changing, twisting from protest to pleasure, and you couldn’t stop it. the tighter the demon gripped your throat, the more pleasure you derived from being taken against your will. the wetter you got.

Karaku’s brows knit together, focusing all of his energy into pounding deep, as he hissed through clamped teeth, “Cumming for you, little demon killer. Going to fill up that belly!”

you didn’t have time to process what his threat had been, because a few, forceful thrusts against your limit, his tip battering your insides, and he erupts with a wail, giving your neck one final, right squeeze that you thought for sure would crush your trachea. it doesn’t, somehow, and when his grip loosens, you choke on a massive influx of air, uttering a defeated, “N-no, not inside—“ though it was too late. you could feel his cum in your guts, much more than a human could produce, sloshing about as he continued. he didn’t pull out, or even slow his pace. dribbling white release out with every buck of his powerful hips, his climax only seemed to spur him to fuck you harder.

“Do you feel that, Hashira?” Karaku taunts, grabbing your hair at the roots to pull your head up, forcing you to stare deep into his eyes. every thrust pushes his release deeper into you, and you mewl and groan, “You’re full of demon cum.” your eyes roll around in your head when it shakes, but Karaku swipes his mouth over yours, tasting your kiss with his long, invasive tongue. “You’re my breeding bitch now.”

“Ours. We’re supposed to be sharing her, did you forget?” Urogi nagged, dropping one of your legs to free a hand. your toe scrapes against the ground, leg limply dangling, but you don’t have the energy to use it to fight back— all of your resistance Karaku had already fucked from your body. you assume, with Urogi’s shifting behind you, that he too was grabbing and readying his cock, and you groan at the thought of being handed off for this to happen again. if you had to satisfy them both, you would surely not survive this night. “Give me room.”

“She’s too tight,” Karaku barked, “give me a minute to open her up some more.”

Urogi snarls, and rubs the swollen head of his cock against the brutal fucking you’re getting, causing your eyelids to flutter as you try to look back at him. surely, he didn’t intend to force his way into the same hole at the same time?

“We’ll stretch her out together. I’m not waiting anymore, I want to break her, too.”

Urogi worms his way inside, spearing your elastic entrance and forcing you to stretch to not only accommodate Karaku’s brutality, but now Urogi’s cock, too. they were roughly the same size and shape, at least they felt that way, but the sensation of them rubbing together inside of you, bulging against your inner walls, was utterly maddening. you felt like you were being torn in half, or as if you were a rope in a vicious game of tug-of-war between the two demons. Urogi was just as eager and cruel as his counterpart, falling into a merciless rhythm opposite of Karaku, so as Karaku was retracting, Urogi was pounding deeper, keeping your limits brutalized with not a moment to recover.

it was difficult, at this point, to do anything short of blacking out. your eyes rolled around in your head, your mouth hanged open, drool leaking from the corners and mews and helpless babbling fell free. your body slumped, in between the two sturdy demons as they all but fucked right through you.

Urogi moans, much louder and huskier, breathing hot on your neck and in your ear. “She’s so much more receptive now that she’s been tenderized,” he takes a sharp inhale, his talons tickling your chin as he tilts your head back, instead, to smash his hungry lips against yours.

the kiss is wrong. rough and forceful, and you can’t fight it, so your mouth hangs open, gurgling quiet pleas for some sort of mercy. Urogi ignores them, and kisses you deeply, so deeply that you worry his tongue, that was prodding at every inch of your mouth, would eventually choke you as fiercely as Karaku had with his hands.

he breaks the kiss for a moment, to pull back and admire the broken expression on your bruised countenance, before he tilts his head. “You’re being ruined, you know? Turned into a mindless fuckdoll.” a wide grin teases his taut lips, “Your body is ours, demon slayer, to destroy as we please. To breed when we feel the need.” if you had any tears left, they would’ve streaked the dirt on your cheeks, but you couldn’t cry.

it felt too good.

“I’d… rather… die…” you breathe out, uneven and trembling, trying to hold on to what little denial you could still muster.

“Shut up, breeder.” Karaku chomped at your clavicle, sucking and biting, leaving his mark on you. “We’ll kill you if we get bored of stuffing your holes, but you won’t get that lucky for a good, long while.” Karaku was grunting again, speeding up, as he must’ve caught on the trail of a second orgasm, and you started to whine and whimper to punctuate each thrust. all of the stimulation— the rubbing against his shaft as Karaku pounded and the way you clench and milk the two cocks fighting for ownership of your pussy— must’ve pushed Urogi over the edge, because he dropped off along the way. coming undone and bucking his hips madly, whimpering with sordid delight as he kisses you again, his release joining Karaku’s and the load already inside as they cum together this time.

a strangled cry bubbles out of your throat, the pressure on your belly more than you’ve ever felt. you could feel a faint bulge, as if they’d inflated you like a balloon, as the excess that refused to fit seeps out between your legs, splattering on the ground underneath you. you could hold absolutely no more, and they both knew that, too. as if coordinated, they both release you, and you crumble to the ground on your belly, sliding off both of their cocks in the process. another eruption of their release oozes out from your abused cunt as you lay there, fucked out and weak.

“Look at you.” Urogi swoons, planting one claw on your arm to pin you in place, squatting down to your level. his cock swung in front of your face, still hard and smelling of your body. it made you dizzy, so you tried to look away, smearing your face in the dirt to escape. “You’re no soldier, girl. All of that training did nothing for your weak mind or your easily ruined body. Break your sword and feed you a couple of demon cocks, and your true purpose is revealed.”

you hear footsteps on the other side, and only a moment passes before Karaku grasps a fistful of your hair. you were familiar, now, with that terribly painful grip. and, upon jerking your head upwards, your open mouth is plugged by his cock, giving you no choice but to taste the cum that frosts it. it’s raw and musky, and your eyes roll back upon swallowing the taste, gurgling weakly. he laughs at this, pushing your head down to force it deeper. “Hanging off our cocks like a pathetic, human puppet.”

#karaku #karaku x reader #Karaku smut #karaku x you #urogi #urogi x reader #urogi x you #urogi smut #hantengu #demon slayer x you #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kny #kny x reader #kny x you #kny smut #kimetsu no yaiba

[charmedreincarnation]

My sucess story

Trigger Warning: Abusive, homophobia, mentions of suicide

Hey there, Maya! I just had to take a moment and express my appreciation for all the fantastic posts you put out. I can now confirm, without a shadow of a doubt, that shifting is real, manifesting is real, and so is the void. Our desires and ambitions aren't in vain.

I've been part of the shifting community since 2020 when it exploded on TikTok. It might not matter much, but as a gay man, I rarely saw other guys in the community (though Reddit and Amino have a more diverse crowd). I've always felt more comfortable in women-centric spaces because they tend to be less judgmental.

I never saw success stories from guys, especially the kind I wanted to see - like waking up in a new world, not just manifesting money or a girlfriend (or boyfriend in my case >.<). I've always been spiritual and interested in witchcraft, voodoo, deities, and now manifesting and shifting. But it felt like nothing would let me shift.

Growing up with homophobic and physically abusive parents, struggling with poverty, depression, homelessness, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and more, I began to feel like you could only manifest and shift if your life was okay. I didn't have the luxury of time or safety to practice methods, constantly dealing with noise, verbal abuse, or physical violence.

Then, I read this post

https://www.reddit.com/r/shiftingrealities/comments/14v4lw3/how_to_shift_the_next_time_you_go_to_sleep/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=2&utm_term=1

It led me to your Tumblr because OP used some of your old posts and talked about the concept of the void. All searched lead to tumblr. A couple of months ago (2.5 ish) after one of the worst days of my life, I went to bed sobbing, trying to block out the noise around me, praying and crying for anything - death, shifting, a new identity...

Everything around me started to fade - it was as if I was being engulfed by a white, serene blanket of nothingness. It was completely silent, and I couldn't see or feel anything. The only thing that seemed to persist was my awareness.

Now, I've read about the void before, but mostly in the context of it being a black, empty space. So, I'm not entirely sure if what I experienced was indeed the void or something altogether different. The concept still baffles me a bit, but I'm learning and growing through these experiences.

Regardless of where I was, my heart was set on reaching my dr.I kept praying and hoping, to wake up in my DR.

I woke up in my Twitch streamer DR! I found myself in a completely unfamiliar yet perfect place. My room was equipped with a high-end PC, top-notch gaming gear, and quaint decor items. Milo, my dog, was there too. I was sharing a mansion in LA with my boyfriend and four other streamers. The house was beyond my imagination, and streaming here was a dream come true. As night fell, my friends and I explored the vibrant LA nightlife, creating lasting memories.

After a week, i can’t lie I almost forgot I had shifted here. Then, I set an intention to shift back into this reality but where I had moved out, lived with my best friend and their supportive parents, mastered shifting and manifesting, had my desired looks, and money came easily to me. And it worked!

Since then, I've been living my best boujee gay life, and I shift all the time. I even created a waiting room where I'm immortal and use it whenever I need a break. I wish I could offer better advice, but like everyone says, there isn't a key to shifting. It's different for everyone. But you can and will shift. You can manifest your dream life. You can and deserve to be happy

Oh my god, I'm so happy for you, love 💕💕. I also completely related to what you felt. I know it can seem like your circumstances are holding you back, but believe me when I say this - that couldn't be further from the truth.

It's that same resilience, and your ability to persist despite the odds, that paved the way to your dream life. There’s nothing, I mean nothing that can stop you. Not wavering, crying, or doubt. Nothing. If you want it, it’s yours.

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #reality shifting #shiftblr #void success

[romanoffsbish]

Russian Roulette

WandaNat x Fem!Reader

A wholesome argument between lovers leads to the best night of all of yours lives.. | 1,995 Words

Warning: Emotional W, Petty Lovers

Smut: Unprotected Sex, Rope/Bondage (N) Daddy (Intersex-N), Dick-Riding (R/W—N) Thigh Riding (W on R), Overstimulation(N), Breeding.

18+ | Minors DNI

Natasha's not sure what started the argument, but now that she's found herself stripped bare with her hands tied behind a chair in your shared bedroom with the promise of pleasure she's not sure she cares all that much anymore. All she knows is that you and Wanda have placed a bet, and that you two were some of the most stubborn people she's ever had the pleasure of loving so this was either going to be the worst day of all of your lives, or the best night of hers; she's praying for the latter.

Natasha’s lust blown eyes tracked your bodies as you two spoke in a secretive manner, her brow raised as she tried to figure out the actual plan here, but you two weren’t giving it up.

“First round you get a minute and a half.”

Wanda nodded, “The remaining just a minute.”

“Heads or tails love?,” she smiled, even in the midst of a petty fight you still refer to her so tenderly., “Tails.,” you flipped the coin, and the smile on her face was wiped away., “Heads.”

Natasha watched as Wanda set a timer on her phone, the energy shifted as soon as she hit start, and her hands reflexively tugged on the restraints when you sauntered over to her in only your lacy white bra., "Fuck, detka.," she moaned once your wetness dripped onto her thigh as you moved to straddle her bare legs.

"A-a condom?," she whined, but you tauntingly chuckled., "Oh baby.," you lined her up with your entrance., "Let me fill you in on the bet.," you slowly sunk down onto her, wincing as the stretch was working to tear you open, and the redheads face slammed against your shoulder as she worked hard to catch her stolen breath.

"We couldn't decide who should be the first to carry your babies.," you panted against her ear, the ghost of a smirk on your face as you felt her twitch at the thought., "So, we're going to play this game until fate decides who you breed."

"Oh shit.," you could feel her shiver, and you hoped it wouldn't be long, but then the dreaded timer broke the moment, and the redhead whined as you removed yourself completely., "I'll be back.," you winked with a confidence that Wanda rolled her eyes at., "We'll see."

"Don't fret moya lyubov'," Wanda teased, her dripping cunt quick to replace the warmth that Natasha was whining over losing., "Blyad!"

(Fuck)

"That's right.," she giggled., "Trakhni menya daddy.," she caught the redheads affected groan with her lips while slowly bouncing up and down on her thick cock.

(Fuck me)

"Can you imagine it Natty?," she swiveled her hips, causing the woman beneath her to mewl as her head flew back in pleasure., "My puffy cunt stuffed full, and dripping with your cum.," her lips traveled over her heated skin until she began to suck on her sweet spot., "Then soon enough I'll be round, and carrying our baby."

Natasha felt it when Wanda's words sent a shiver down her spine, and once her lips slammed to hers she was ready to bust, just another couple thrusts and she'd let it go, but then the alarm went off and Wanda released her hold on her., "Hold it lyubov', be strong.," she instructed sternly then removed herself.

Wanda squealed when you slapped her ass, and before she could scold you she was melting against you as your lips found hers. Natasha watched you two with rapt attention as you apparently sought to devour Wanda whole, her cock twitching, and coated in her pre-cum as she desperately wished for your lost attention.

"No matter who wins, just know I love you, and am excited to start this family.," you panted, your forehead pressed to hers while you were regaining your breath., "I love you so much.," she whispered affectionately, then her lips found yours once more for a reassuring kiss.

Breaking apart came once you heard Natasha whimper, it was pathetic really, but you two always did do a great job at riling her up., "Let the games begin again, may the best pussy win.," Wanda giggled and playfully shoved you away, causing you to turn your focus onto the desperate woman who's now humping the air.

"Hey daddy.," you winked as you crouched down, your tongue popping out so you can drag it over the throbbing vein of Natasha's cock., "Fuck, Wanda you taste so good.," you praised your other lover before swirling your tongue around Nat's enflamed tip, tasting her next., "God, Nat, you too.," you moaned, and the redhead followed as you slammed your lips to hers while sinking down on her thick length.

"Sorry we left you hanging daddy.," your words were muffled against her lips, and nearly drowned out by the sound of skin slapping., "Just wanted to give you a little show is all."

Flashes of your previous entanglement with Wanda flow through her mind, building her orgasm up that much faster as she remembers the way you groped Wanda's breasts and allowed her to get off on your thigh alone.

"No!," Natasha shrieked when the timer went off, you chuckled, but pressed a sympathetic kiss to her cheek., "Soon my love, don't hold back on your next go, fuck a baby into her.," Natasha whimpered, every single time she lost the warmth of your tight holes she was nearly back at square one. The buildup each time increased to a painful level, and she was not sure she could take much more of this.

Wanda smiled when passing you, her hand softly trailing over your abdomen as she did. When straddling Natasha this time Wanda was uncharacteristically still, her hips weren't even moving, and you could see the obvious sexual frustration in Nat's features, but then you saw them soften as she slowly gyrated and spoke.

"I can't wait to be a mama.," Wanda whispered, tears budding up in her eyes, and Natasha was quick to lean forward, nudging her nose into her cheek, and Wanda broke the rest of the distance to kiss her back, desperately wanting the comfort over winning the silly game.

In the vulnerable moment the game was forgotten for all, the two connected in front of you were making out in such a tender manner, you couldn't help wanting to be involved so your soft hands wrapped around to play with Wanda's nipples, and your lips met her back.

Wanda moaned breathily into Natasha's mouth, the combination of all your touches, and the feeling of being so full leant her into a second orgasm, she came hard on Natasha's cock, and the tiniest spurt of cum left the redhead, but it wasn't enough to constitute a win, and the forgotten timer tragically went off.

"It's okay baby, you can stay.," you kissed over the mark you left behind and she shook her head with a smile., "No, a bet is a bet detka."

With a gentle hand you helped her off of Nat, her legs shaky as she's came twice already herself, and you pecked her lips softly before taking her place on the overstimulated cock., "Come on now daddy, speed up the process.," you began to bounce on her once again, pulling desperate moans from her as she felt herself on the edge of bliss for the fifth time, it was all too much, and she was truly fed up with the game.

"Fate's taking too long.," Natasha groaned, and in a split second her hands were free'd from her restraints, and your back hit the mattress with a squeal of shock, and a squeak of springs. She pounded into you with vigor, blissfully ignoring the timer sounding off behind her., "Fuck, I'm cumming detka.," her face fell into the crook of your neck, panting harshly against your chest as she held true to her words, and you writhed and screamed as she released.

"Oh my god, yes, please fill me up, wanna be full daddy, I'm begging you!," you were in a state of euphoria you'd never experienced before. Having her seed painting your walls had the most amazing effect on you, causing you to clench around her, milking her dry as your walls fluttered, and your own orgasm drenched her cock, dripping onto the mattress.

Wanda's lip was caught between her teeth as she saw your mixed arousals gush onto the sheets. As disappointed as she was not to be in your place she couldn't deny how hot it was to see your mutual lover overfilling your pussy.

She sat patiently at the end of the California King bed, shamelessly admiring your sweaty bodies as they moved in aggressive tandem as the both of you sought to prolong the pleasure. Her plush thighs clenched in desperation, that familiar ache between her legs returned with a vengeance as she watched Natasha's hips continue to fuck you well beyond your bliss, so persistent as she pleaded for you to take it all, to not waste a single drop in breathy pants against your marked up chest. There was truly nothing hotter than a desperate Natasha.

"I promise to take it all daddy, wanna be your pretty little cum dump, full of your miracles.," you screamed, clenching around her thickness for emphasis, all of her persistent thrusting was building you both up to another release., "Fuck, detka I'm gonna—.," a moan tore from the redheads throat as she released an even bigger load into you, her hips stilled as she was overwhelmed by the sheer amount leaving her. She'd never in her life came that hard before, your organic warmth over the usual silicone layer was introducing her to new pleasures.

"Mm, thank you daddy.," you hummed as you lazily continued to meet her equally as limited thrusts., "You're welcome detka.," her plump lips pressed to yours sloppily, she suckled on your tongue in a means of distraction, her hips yet to still as she slowly thrusted, her intention to drive her sperm deep into your womb, and ensure above all else that you end up pregnant.

"Daddy?," Wanda whispered., "Baby?," it was honestly so quiet that you'd hardly heard her., "Please.," but the desperation in her voice was unmistakable, so you nudged Natasha who reluctantly released your lips and shifted her gaze over to the pouting Sokovian., "Oh my, look at you.," she rasped, the slick drenching her plush thighs enough to marvel at for days.

"Don't you worry now lyubov'.," the redhead beckoned the woman over with the crook of her finger, and guided her to lay flat beside you., "Daddy's got more than enough cum to last for hours, I'll have you both so full you'll feel me dripping down your thighs for weeks."

Natasha watched the way Wanda's eyes lit up, and she felt your excitement as you clenched around her softened cock that was quick to harden at the sensation and thoughts of the both of you being fucked senseless had her ready to pick her animalistic pace back up.

With a tenderness though she kissed you to ease the ache as she pulled out, you whined at the loss, but you were satiated after she put a plug in your gaping hole. It wasn't nearly as stimulating as her throbbing dick, but it was more than enough to make you feel full, she gently elevated you with a pillow beneath your lower back, trying to use the force of gravity to help her swimmers along on their journey.

Once you were situated she moved on to the patient brunette at your side, she hovered over her with darkened orbs, and in one thrust she slammed her cock passed her yearning hole., "Playtime is over.," she grunted as she set herself up at a quick pace., "Daddy's going to have you two blabbering disasters by the end of the night, there's no way you'll leave barren."

———

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #natasha romanoff g!p #g!pnatasha romanoff #wandanat #wandanat oneshot #wandanat fluff #wandanat fic #wandanat imagine #wandanat x female reader #wandanat x reader #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x you #wanda x reader x nat #wanda x nat x you #wandanat smut

[strawberrysturniolo]

never grow up part five

summary: after months of no contact, chris and sunny find themselves having a long awaited conversation about their relationship part four part six

The last four months were somehow the best and worst times of my life.

In those months I was able to learn so much more about myself, figuring out how to live without the one person I rested my head on for all of my life. It was a challenge, but I’m here, and I’m figuring it out. 

But then I think about the struggle, and the fact that every time I face some sort of hardship, I go to rest my head on a shoulder that doesn’t exist with me anymore. 

I’ve started to make some other friends, forcing myself to distract myself and stop this pit inside of me from growing any more. 

Part of me is still hoping, praying, and wishing on every star that our relationship – friendship can be saved. If we can get through this without losing touch with each other, we can get through anything, right? 

“Are you listening to me?” my mom’s voice snaps me out of my daze. 

“Sorry, yeah,” I nod, focusing back on here as she finishes her grocery shopping. I came with her to keep myself from going insane with my roommates, but now I’m wishing I stayed home to wallow. 

She’s asked me about Chris a few times, the casual, “What’s new with him?” type of questions. I always make something up or say “the same as always,” because even though she doesn’t know how things have changed, at least that answer isn’t a lie. Everything is the same as it’s been since he left without a word. 

I’ve caught myself looking at updates in his life since that’s all I have of him now. We haven’t talked since he called me and admitted to fucking someone else. I can’t begin to express the betrayal and pain I felt when he told me that. Even still, I haven’t brought myself to want to be near any other guy, and to think that he went to LA and slept with someone else so fast and easily makes me feel sick, like I was just another hookup for him despite our history. 

We never had the temptation to do that with each other before. When we slept together, it was because there was something there. We were special. 

I can’t keep myself from wondering if I ever cross his mind.I sit and wonder if he still thinks of me, or who he says is his best friend. 

I have made the painful and saddening mistake of watching some of their videos. I missed his voice, I missed watching us in the older videos, I missed those memories. 

“This one is too big, dipshit!” a familiar voice causes my head to turn.

“Then we’ll get the smaller one!”

“Well, what if we go to the next store and they don’t have any?”

“Jesus, what do you want from me!” Nick responds.

Nick.

“I’ll look over–” the third voice calls out, halting when his body collides with mine.

Oh my god.

“Chris!” my mom cheers. 

His eyes are stuck on mine, our bodies inches apart. I watch as he swallows nervously. I would do anything to know what he was thinking about right now. 

Finally, he snaps his attention from me and places it on my mom. He slaps the fakest, but most convincing smile on his face. 

“Hi!” he grins at her, stepping around me and giving her a hug.

“I haven’t seen you since the cookout,” she reminds him, swaying him a bit as she embraces him. He giggles, just like he always has when she does this. “I didn’t even know you left.”

He nods, tucking his hands into his pockets after she lets go of him. “Things just got kinda hectic and I didn’t have time. I’m sorry.”

So he apologizes to her, but not me. That only proves that his apology to her isn’t sincere. 

“You didn’t tell me he was home!” she says to me now. 

I keep my feelings written on my face. Anger, hurt, and loss.

“No one told me.”

He glances at me, then looks at his feet. “It was a surprise,” he lies.

“Whatever,” I mumble, taking the car keys from my mom and excusing myself to the car for the rest of her shopping. 

What a fucking asshole.

To not tell me he was coming back, lying to my mom, and pretending like he hasn’t ripped me apart over the last few months, I couldn’t keep looking at him. 

I sat in my moms car, trying everything in my power to keep myself from breaking down. This was all so unfair. Every memory we had together, he threw it all away. Him coming back without a word, without a text, a phone call… it all just proved that this friendship was over with. All because of a stupid night that clearly meant more to me than to him. 

I went back to my apartment that night, hiding my feelings from everyone. I didn’t think about calling him as much as I wanted to scream at him for making me feel this way. I laid in my bed and sat with a book, trying to distract myself from everything going on outside. 

If he could do this without hesitation, without thinking about me, and act on emotion because of his anger towards me for going on a date, all while he was going to lie to me and never tell me he had sex with someone else until he had a reason to lash out at me, then he doesn’t deserve my time. 

Eventually, I crumble.

The week went by with me knowing he was down the street and I couldn’t do anything about it. I used to walk into his house unannounced and be greeted with a hug by all of his family members, then spend the rest of the day in his room playing video games, listening to music, talking, just being with each other. 

The one person I wanted to talk to about everything going on was the one person I had to stay away from. I couldn’t tell him how awful I felt, and I couldn’t go to him for comfort. He was the one who ripped me apart. 

The lifelong friend I thought I never had to worry about losing had officially pulled himself out of my life. 

“Higher!” I screamed out for him below me. 

He grabbed the sides of the swing, pulling me back as far as he could without falling over and shoving me forward as hard as he could. “I’m trying!”

I felt myself fly in the air, a cheer of excitement leaving me as the brisk Boston air surrounded me, painting my face in a blush color as the chill burned me. 

“Yay!” he clapped from under me. 

At seven years old, we had it all. Everything that we now lost, we had when we were kids. How is that fair?

“Can you see the hockey rink from up there?!” he asked, raising his voice so I could hear him, as if I was in outer space. 

“Umm, I don’t know. I need to go higher.”

He stood behind me, trying to catch my seat of the swing so he could launch me higher in the air. His small feet couldn’t hold himself up as the impact of me flying back down collided with his waist. He flew back, his puffer coat catching some of the collision. While his body was okay, he fell backwards, spinning around to try catching himself. I jumped down from the swing as soon as I could, some fear stopping me from hopping down at the height I was at. 

I had never seen so much blood before. The mulch under the swingset cut his cheeks, and he must have smacked his nose because it was gushing blood. 

“Sunny!” he cried out, instantly bawling. Maybe he was embarrassed and that’s part of the reason he was crying, but he had so much blood on his face that he was clearly in pain. 

“Sorry!” my own eyes welled with tears as I tried to help him. I took off my gloves and let him use them as tissues, trying to stop the blood from pouring out. 

I held his hand as we stumbled back to his house. As soon as the door opened, he cried for his mom, to which she ran down the steps and scooped him up, trying to calm his hysterics. 

My mom came and picked me back up, and we returned a few hours later. 

“Mrs. Sturniolo, I have a present for Chris and his boo boo’s.”

She smiled down at me, then called for Chris to come down. He ran down the steps, displaying the scratches on his face that had stopped bleeding. 

I held out an ice cream cone for him, cookie dough to be exact. He smiled, hugged me, and held my hand as he pulled me inside, sitting down on the couch with me as he licked his ice cream. 

When I was dealing with family problems growing up, he was always there.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” I cried, watching him wipe my tears before they could fall to my cheeks.

“Where’s your backpack?” he asked, and I pointed somewhere on the floor. 

“What are you doing?” I asked quietly, afraid to interrupt whatever he was doing. 

“You’re going to move in with me until your parents start being nice to each other.”

We were ten at the time, and I did end up moving in with them for about four days.

I slept in Chris’ bed with him, and his mom took us to school. My mom liked the idea until she heard about my plan of not coming back. Needless to say, that brought me home. 

I needed him back in my life, but I was too broken to cry for him again. 

Days later, I was in bed doing homework when a knock on my door finally pulled me out of my room. With both of my roommates gone, I figured one of them came back and forgot their key. Anyone who comes inside needs a code to get into the building. 

I opened the door without checking through the peephole. 

“Hi,” he said quietly, giving me a soft smile. 

My broken heart was suddenly mended together, and I hated myself for making that happen so easily.

“What are you doing here?”

He pulls a cookie dough ice cream cone from behind his back. 

“Apology ice cream?”

A frown starts to pull my lips downward. He notices, and invites himself in. 

“Can we talk?” 

I nod weakly. 

He starts walking towards my couch. Without thinking, I grab his hand and pull him into a hug. He freezes until my arms wrap around him. Then, his body relaxes. 

He wraps his arms tightly around my body, squeezing me. His head rests in the crook of my neck, his breath fanning my skin. 

“I needed you,” I breathe out, trying not to cry again.

“I know.”

“You weren’t there.”

He nods, squeezing me tighter. “I know.”

We stand in silence until he pulls away from me.

“Your ice cream is melting.”

I go to wipe my tears, but he beats me to it, just like he always did. 

“I’ll get a bowl for you,” he says. “Go sit.”

I probably look terrified on this couch.The last time he was here with me we almost had sex again. The last time he was here, everything fell apart. 

I take a bite of my melting ice cream, waiting for him to say something. 

“I panicked when you told me how you felt,” he confesses. “I love you so much. I’ve always loved you. I don’t want you to not be in my life. I was going fucking crazy for months. I missed you so fucking much, Sunny.”

I’m torn between the pain of knowing he was hurt, but also the relief knowing that I wasn’t alone in this. He was feeling the same way I was. If we just communicated then we could have gotten through this, but we wanted to be mad at the other person. 

“I want to be with you,” he says, holding my arms so I focus on him. “I really really do. You’re all I think about. We just need to talk about all of this.”

I nod, trying to think of the right thing to say. 

“When did you start liking me?” he asks. 

“I think right before you left last year,” I try to remember. “I loved being with you. It was different than before. I was getting butterflies with you. Then when you left, I got sad, I think.”

“I fell in love with you in sophomore year.”

My eyes dart to his, shock written on my face. 

“But you were dating–”

“I know,” he says. “I kept trying to break it off with her. She was jealous of you. Every girl was. They knew you were going to come first. She kept trying to tell me all this shit about how I would never be able to keep her or any other girl because I’m too obsessed with my best friend. Finally one day I just decided, fuck her, and that was it.”

I had met his ex-girlfriend a few times. Mostly in passing because the only time we hung out as a group at his house, she tried coming after my friendship with Chris. We lost some of our friendship because of her, but luckily, Chris did everything he could to bring it back to what it was once she was out of his life. 

“I missed you so much, Sun.”

I chew on my bottom lip, looking at him defeated. “I missed you.”

He opens his arms wide for me, then says “C’mere.”

I fall into his arms so easily, it’s like they were made for me. 

“Not letting go of you again, okay?” he whispers, kissing the top of my head before pulling me closer. “I promise.” 

“I love you so much, Chris.” It spills out of me. Maybe I’m able to cover it up as friendship love, the kind we always had for each other growing up–

“I love you.” He waits for me to look at him before continuing. “I love you so fucking much. I just–”

I hold my breath. 

“Right now… with me being in LA, I can’t give you what you deserve right now. I promise, once we’re living in the same place again, if you’re still wanting to be with me, I’ll do anything I can to keep you. I swear on it. I just don’t want to not be able to give you enough right now because of where we are in life.” 

Even though I wanted to try to have a relationship with him, I know this is the right thing, and I am so appreciative of him telling me how he feels this time despite his fears. If I could have had this answer months ago, I wouldn’t have fallen apart the way I did. 

“Is that okay?” he asks carefully. 

I sit up, nodding my head. 

He pushes my hair back behind my ears. “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be.” I give him a small smile. “I get it.”

He rubs my cheek with his thumb before dropping his hands into his lap. 

“I have to go home soon to finish packing for the airport.”

Back to LA he goes, I guess. 

“Did you sleep with anyone else other than the girl you told me about?”

He looks shocked that I would ask him this. “No– I just–” he sighs. “No. It was only her, and it was only one time. I felt like shit after. Got faded and went to Matt for help. He told me to call you, so I did, and that’s when you were on your date. I was so angry and fucked up I lashed out and told you. I shouldn’t have done it like that.” 

“That made me really upset. Not that you slept with someone– well, a little. But the fact that you used it as ammunition because you knew it would upset me.”

“I know,” he agrees. “That wasn’t nice.”

He grabs my ice cream and takes a bite, licking his finger when it drips down his hand. 

I rest my head on his shoulder, the same one I had been searching for for months. 

We sit in a comfortable silence while we share a melting ice cream.

“Where do you see yourself in ten years?” I ask, trying to break the silence but also figure out how long I’ll be waiting for him.

“With you.”

I look up at him, my eyes full. 

“Always with you,” he says, holding my chin.

There clearly isn’t a thought in either of our brains when we kiss each other again. It’s so soft, sweet, and gentle that it answers all of my questions. It gives me everything I need. 

He holds my cheeks, kissing me again and then moving to the side of my face, peppering me in kisses everywhere. A loud laugh leaves my mouth, making him smile into one more kiss. 

“What do you want to do about all of this?” he asks against my mouth. 

“I want to be with you, but I can’t make you ready for me,” I admit to him.

He pulls back and holds my hands. “Then we’ll wait until the timing is better, but I swear to God Sunny, do not fucking leave me. No matter when we get together, I want you in my life always. Please, don’t leave me alone again.”

I kiss him one more time, the last kiss we will share with each other indefinitely. 

He holds onto me for dear life, and I have to remind myself that this can’t go any further. 

It’s always been Chris Sturniolo, and there won’t be a day in my life where I’m not meant for him. 

“I promise.”

tag list: @secret-sturniolo @chrisloyalgf @strnilolo @qwertytit @55sturn @sleepysturnss @creamoncreamoncream2 @sturnvvz @swaggygirlboss123 @angelworldspost @patscorner @ducksturniolo @mattitties @luv4kozume @mbbsgf @freshloveforthefit @ripmattitude @gamermattsgf @strniololoverr @urmom2bitch @sturnitup @luvmila444 @st7rnioioss @sturniolosreads @pepsiskiess @alorsxsturn @sturniolopepsi @sturnsgasoline @sturns-posts @sstvrnioloo @strawberrymilk4k @nickmillersn1gf @milesfordays11 @l9vesick @mattsturnzzz09 @mattnchrisworld @sturniolovoid @aerunn @sturniolosmind @oliviasturniolo21 @carolsturns1 @scarssturniolo @stuniolobbg @sturniolowhore @christurniolomyman

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #strawberrysturniolo #Spotify

[livwritesstuff]

‘tis my birthday today (it’s gotta be one of the worst birthdays to have, we don’t need to talk about it) anyways that’s where this is coming from

(also i’m not trying to imply that jan 1 is eddie’s bday. i wouldn’t wish that on anybody. besides, he is def a weirdo february aquarius)

The second half of the calendar year is nothing short of pandemonium for Eddie and Steve and their three daughters.

Moe’s birthday in late July kicks it off, almost immediately followed by Steve’s birthday in early August, then Hazel’s in September. Robbie’s birthday comes mere days after Halloween, and from there they dive headfirst into the bedlam of the holiday season.

Much to Eddie's relief, they all made it to yet another New Year's Day, and while the girls are definitely feeling the end-of-winter-break blues, Eddie welcomes the reprieve in festivities, brief as it may be.

His own birthday is up next – though not for another month.

He’s really not a birthday kind of guy. Never had been.

He loves making birthdays exciting for Steve and their daughters (they have a whole slew of traditions and everything – there’s names spelled out in pancakes involved; it's a very big deal), but his own…not so much.

It managed to fly under the radar for the past few years, but since this year is the big Five-Oh, he knows Steve won’t let him get away with that again.

Eddie has a complicated relationship with his birthday. When he was younger and the weight of Birthday Importance was at its peak, he never really celebrated the way other kids got to, and now, as an adult, he doesn’t know how to feel the things you’re supposed to feel about your birthday. 

Steve does a good job, despite Eddie’s weirdness. 

His favorite, Eddie thinks, was the year Moe was born, when Steve had managed to catch him off guard by renting a tiny cottage up in Maine for a few days.

“Moe or no Moe,” Steve had asked, “I’ve got Rob and Nance on standby.”

(They’d taken Moe. She saw snow for the first time. It was amazing, and people who don't want to involve their kids in stuff are a bunch of fucking weirdos).

Steve gives him a letter every year – handwritten on notebook paper and folded into whatever cheesy card he picks out.

Eddie keeps most of the letters in a fireproof lockbox along with all their passports and social security cards and birth certificates (look – Eddie doesn’t fuck around with priceless shit), but he keeps the most recent one – the one Steve gave him for his forty-ninth birthday nearly a year ago – in the top drawer of his bedside table.

He has it pretty much memorized at this point.

It says:

Ed! (with an exclamation point and everything – god, does Eddie love him)

49.

Holy shit we’re getting old.

Writing this is making me think about all the ones from the beginning, when I’d write about our future together even though we didn’t have a damn clue what we were working towards for a while.

I think we’re in it, man. Crazy, right?

(The ink color suddenly switches from blue to purple)

Sorry for the color change. Hazy decided she needed a blue pen immediately. Hope your vision hasn’t gone totally to shit and you can still read the purple.

Anyways, since I have you hostage reading this, I’m gonna take the opportunity to discuss you, because you don’t let me in real life most of the time.

You are gorgeous. Best looking face I’ve ever seen. I wonder how much time I’ve lost off my day just staring at you (actually, not a loss. I take that back)

You suck at puzzles – I know that sounds bad, but it’s great for me. I need that to rub off on Moe because she’s getting pretty good and that’s gonna be a problem for me.

You make me laugh so fucking hard every day. I’m praying the girls get your sense of “elevated” humor or whatever you like to call it

You’re so fucking smart, Eddie. I count myself lucky for it endlessly

You are completely 100% you all the time. I’m still working on that I think but I’m getting there because of you. I’m glad all that shit we went through didn’t take that away from you.

the BEST dad. Can’t believe I didn’t say that sooner. Not to brag but our kids are turning out pretty awesome (can’t go around saying that too much though it’ll go right to their heads and then any power we have left goes out the window)

You’re probably the best person I’ve ever known. Don’t think I’ll be forgetting what a catch you are any time soon, because I won't.

Thank you for loving me even all these years later. My life is better every day that I’m with you.

We’ll keep things quiet this year. Don’t get used to it though. Next year’s gonna be a rager.

Love you always!

- Steve :) ♡ ☆

#over-the-moon in love steve absolutely writes a mean love letter #to those who get steve's sign-off -> ilysm that's an old post #shoutout to the partners of birthday-haters #y’all are doing the most and it is appreciated #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

[meiiie]

Hi hope your doing great today :) maybe a dave lizewski x reader period comfort fic? got mine this week and it sucks and i need one with my best nerd <33

omg so sorry i just saw this now anon, but yes of course!

cramps&cuddles — dave lizewski

pairing: boyfriend!dave lizewski x fem!reader

words: 0.6K (I wish I could make this longer, but I've run out of other ideas…)

fluff, comfort :) not proofread

You and Dave decided to have a sleepover after school since your parents goes to a vacation for a day, but your period just had to start at the worst timing. When Dave arrives at your house and sees you what seems to be (physically dying) on your bed, he immediately knows something is wrong

During the past week he’s been too busy being ‘Kickass’, this has been one of the first time in a while since you’ve seen each other, so seeing this sight brings a sudden rush of guilt inside of him. “hey, hey, baby, are you okay?” Dave asks, dropping his school bag with panic, approaching the bed to check your forehead with the back of his hand. “ughhrdhrdhhrfh, no I think I’m dying- oh gosh” you groan while hugging your lower abdomen. “ohmygodohmygodohmygod don’t worry I’m here- what do you need? I- what’s happening. Your forehead isn’t so hot??? What could be the reaso-” while Dave was squirming around your room in hopes of finding something to help with your suffering, you cut him off saying “Dave, don’t stress out omg it’s just that time of the month”

Despite Dave being the huge nerd he is—/that time of the month/ is the only thing he hasn’t researched about. His mom passed away while he was young, so with the amount of knowledge he knows about women… you can tell he was internally panicking. You turn to look away, then when you glance back- POOF, he magically disappears. He’s SPEEDING to the nearest store while on his phone, waht do wpmen need for thst time odf monsht typed while bursting into the store. When safari finally loads, he buys the listed items:

Pads

Tampons

A compress

Your favorite snacks

“wait… pads with wings or without? you know what, I’ll just buy everything” is his mindset while also not thinking of his safety right now because how did bro almost get RAN OVER 4 times in a row. Despite his survival of multiple possible car crashes, he also goes to the nearest market to buy oranges because, according to a website, they help with cramps… or something? At this point, he doesn’t know if any of the items he has bought will help with anything, but he’s just praying you aren’t dead yet by the time he gets back to your house

It’s been roughly about 5-6 minutes, and he SWINGS YOUR DOOR OPEN with an almost burnt meal he made inside your kitchen with any ingredients he could find, hot chocolate, and a bowl of already peeled oranges. (a/n: I know that food combination sounds disgusting, but I’ve had all of that at once in one seating during my period, and it tasted amazing so what can I say) “here hun, I don’t know if any of these helps but how are you feeling so far?” he gently places the set of food on your bedside table, while also settling the hot compress on top of your stomach. He goes to cuddle beside you, caressing your back while handing you paper bags full of all the snacks you love.

“I think I’m feeling a lot better now, thank you so much for this” you say getting comfortable in his embrace, kissing around your forehead from time to time. He looks straight into your eyes, so deep, whispering apologetically “I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to spend this past week with you, I promise to make it up to you.” nuzzling his face into your neck, which makes you feel, warm, like your cramps have suddenly disappeared. “It's okay, please don’t worry too much about it, okay? Plus you’ve already made it up to me, thank you for being here, I mean it.” you both laughing at the sight of how any plastic bags he brought full of at least 15 different versions of pads and tampons. You both hold each other peacefully, while you both feel the breeze from your open window. 

“Can you hand me those oranges?”

#dave lizewski kickass #dave lizewski fic #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski #dave lizewski writing #dave lizewski fan fic #dave lizewski x y/n #dave lizewski x fem!reader #dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski comfort #dave lizewski fluff #kickass fan fiction #kickass x fem!reader #kickass x fem!reader #kickass fic #kickass fluff #kickass comfort #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson kickass #meiiie imagines

[prolix-yuy]

On the Right Flight

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader

Summary: A long flight with a gorgeous neighbor takes a hard turn when you get on his favorite subject - Nicholas Cage.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, allusions to sex, PiV sex, brief hint of voyeurism, lots of fantasizing, we are Looking Disrespectfully, plenty of sweetness dumped on top.

Notes: I had the worst writers block for this, but then went on a plane and remembered all the fun/not fun things about flying. Plus traveling for the holidays would be greatly improved with a dose of Javi.

I apologize for one moment and one moment only in this story. You'll know what I mean when you get there.

Cross-posted on AO3

For once, you pray to the gods of airline transportation, let there be no one in the window seat.

It’s futile, you know. It’s LA to Boston and you’ve never seen an empty seat, but you’re hoping that this one time you’ll get a little respite. You’re already fed up with having to pay extra for an emergency row seat, no other options left on the only flight that gets you to your parents in time. Then the dread of endless questions about your work (fine), love life (dismal) and future plans (???) just adds to your crankiness. It’s the holidays, you’re going home, and you could use a holiday miracle. 

At least the expansive legroom is a plus.

You like LA, but no snow in December is weird. Growing up in places where snowfall is a guarantee makes you miss it all the more when towering evergreens are carted into the Grove and fake snow looks strangely post-apocalyptic against a 75 degree sunny day. It doesn’t feel right without the tip of your nose being perpetually cold and a scarf devouring you from shoulder to chin. 

Plus you still have a handful of presents to get, and the anticipation of a long flight is making you antsy about your procrastination. There are still a couple days, but one present has eluded you this year and you’re getting desperate.

“Excuse me.”

A polite voice, Spanish accented, lifts over the murmurs and rumbles of the plane. Your heart sinks briefly.

“Sorry, is this your seat?” you ask, sliding your shoulder bag out of the way before getting a good look at the man waiting in the aisle.

And you do get a good look.

A long one.

Probably uncomfortably long.

But holy hell he’s gorgeous.

He definitely doesn’t belong in coach, and if the cogs in your brain could turn at all you might have asked him if he was in the right aisle, but instead you numbly stare as he steps around your knees. He nods with a tight smile, tucking his elbows and broad shoulders as he squashes into the small window seat. Against the dull beige and navy of the walls and seats he’s a cream and maroon dream, a lightweight striped jacket barely zipped over a white shirt. Tan chinos hug his thick thighs as he twists to find the seat belt, a tiny slip of his tan stomach peeking out. You look up desperately at the flight attendant, whose expression is almost as shocked as yours, before settling back into your seat. 

Six and a half hours next to this golden god might actually be a Christmas miracle, but not one you’d ever dream to wish for.

You follow basic plane etiquette, pretending he isn’t there as you arrange your belongings just how you like them. Without a seat directly in front of you most of your supplies remain stuffed in your bag - a bottle of water, your iPad loaded with movies and tv shows, snacks easily in reach, headphones at the ready. You do sneak a peek at your seatmate’s luscious caramel curls, the intriguing curve of his nose, the perfect dip above his chin where pursed lips tempt.

Stop it, you scold yourself, you’re not in a goddamn Hallmark movie.

“Sorry,” comes that rich voice again, heavily apologetic as he waves to get your attention. Pretending you just noticed him - very smooth, you praise yourself - you turn and nod with your best people-pleaser smile. “I am not sure how to make all this work,” he sighs, mouth downturned and brow knitted. A wild gesture to the lack of a tray table, or entertainment display, makes you bite back a smile.

Hot and hopeless? Oh no.

“The tray is in the armrest, you have to flip it out. Same for the TV screen. The headphone jack is here,” you indicate quietly, though your elderly aisle neighbor is not paying much attention, “and you can plug in your phone here,” you add, tapping at the ports in the armrest. His face lights up, then falls when he fails to have the correct cable. You’re not normally this forward with someone you just met, but there’s something about the fish out of water routine that’s making you bold.

“Here, you can share mine, I won’t need it much for the flight,” you offer, fishing the other end of your cord out of your bag. The man’s face breaks into relief - you’ve never seen so many expressions in such a short time - before he thanks you over and over. It makes heat tingle at the tips of your ears and the back of your neck.

“You must think I am quite foolish,” he murmurs when he finally settles into his seat, wincing at the stiffness. 

“Don’t fly coach much?” you ask, fighting your smirk when he throws up his hands, the gesture too big for the tiny space he’s occupying.

“Can you believe every plane was booked for two weeks? My assistant barely got me on this one!” he groans, and the tiniest part of you loves the plight of an obvious mucky-muck living like the plebeians. His face turning to you, capturing you in an intensely focused gaze, dries out your mouth.

“You are laughing,” he states, more incredulity heaped on. You can’t help the smile and snort that eke out of your unwilling mouth.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…you gotta know how silly that sounds,” you say, flight attendants beginning safety demonstrations in the aisle. You lower your voice further. “My assistant had to book me in coach because it’s three days before Christmas, oh the humanity!” 

For a moment you’re nervous you’ve offended him, the blank expression he pins you with making you fiddle with your fingers. Then he covers his face, a thick gold pinky ring only adding to the ridiculousness of the situation.

“You are right, I sound like the worst sort of person. My apologies, I will try to be a better seat-mate.” You shake your head, waving your hand at his apology before settling back into the seat. “I’m Javi, by the way,” he says, and you give him your name in return. He repeats it back to you, along with another few apologies, before leaning over to finish settling himself for the flight. The plane begins taxing, and the telltale rumble of the jets lulls you into closing your eyes. 

Your right arm is warm, pressed against something amazingly comfortable. Considering snuggling into it, you’re shocked awake remembering you’re on a plane and you’ve accidentally slumped against the golden man - Javi’s - arm. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, straightening, but he only smiles (holy shit can he get more attractive?) and shrugs.

“We are all on this plane together, what is a little touch?” he whispers back before returning to scrolling through an iPad. His is bigger, the nice pro version that’s almost the size of an actual computer. You begin to settle back into your plane nap when a hefty list of titles flash by.

“That’s a lot of Nic Cage,” you comment sotto voce, the rumble and white noise of the plane keeping your conversation relatively private. Javi looks at you blankly, one eyebrow quirked.

“He is my favorite actor,” he says, and the seriousness of this statement bleats a little laugh from your lips. This furrows his brow further, though his eyes do dart to your mouth briefly.

“Sorry, it’s not funny, it’s just…serendipity,” you say, adding more confusion to Javi’s face. You wave your hands, centering yourself.

“You celebrate Christmas?” you ask, and he nods, confused. “Okay, so every Christmas I’ve got this tradition with my sister. It all started one year when she said she didn’t like Nic Cage movies.”

“How could she dislike one of the greatest actors in film history?” Javi interrupts, now half perched in his seat and animated, hands flying. It makes you lose your train of thought, those soft brown eyes now shockingly sharp. You swallow once before continuing.

“I don’t think she hates him or anything, she just thinks he’s silly, and plays a lot of goofy roles.” At this Javi flops back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his face. The dramatics are making you giddy, a frenetic energy barely contained in your body as you try not to disturb the quiet travelers surrounding you.

“Has she never seen Raising Arizona? Con Air?” he interrogates, counting several more movies you didn’t even know he was in. Shrugging, you watch his face fall.

“She got through Ghost Rider and Face/Off before she called it quits,” you say, shoulders shaking at the exasperation rolling off his broad ones. 

“Please don’t tell me you feel the same,” Javi pleads. You shake your head.

“He’s made some…questionable choices, but I unironically love Lord of War, and National Treasure is just fun to watch,” you say, the flight attendants starting beverage service. 

“Thank goodness,” he grumbles, folding up his iPad to have enough space. The flight attendant moves to take drink orders, a professional smile following, “Something for you?”

“Champagne,” Javi says, almost off-hand, which shoots the flight attendant’s eyebrows up to his hairline. Warmed by conversation, you test a tease.

“You’re not in first class anymore, Toto, try a vodka.” Javi’s cheeks pink, but he does order a vodka soda instead. You begin to order a ginger ale when Javi interrupts.

“No no, it’s a long flight, you should have a drink too,” he says, the confused flight attendant’s eyes darting between your conversation.

“Oh no, that’s all right…”

“You drink, yes?”

“I do.”

“Then you should have a drink.”

“I, uh…”

Javi addresses the flight attendant directly, and where embarrassment radiated off him before is now confidence.

“She’ll have a drink on me,” he says definitively, and when he catches your eye there’s a sweet smile that makes your heart pound. “You should have a drink with me.”

Moments later you’re sipping on your own vodka soda and the flight attendant is giving you an approving nod as he moves on to the next row. 

“So your sister does not like Nic…” Javi prompts, your story brought back to the forefront sharply. 

“Yes, right! So after she told me this, I was looking for her Christmas present and found this ridiculous pillow on Amazon that I had to get her. It’s sequins, and when you brush them a certain way…”

“...you can see a photo of Nic,” Javi finishes, to your surprise. “I have the same one.”

“Get out, you do not!” you reprimand, the vodka starting to warm your blood and loosen your tongue. 

“I do! It’s part of my collection.”

“You have a collection?!”

The next half hour is spent slowly sipping your drink and enjoying the hell out of Javi’s extensive Nic Cage collection, complete with photos. The wax statue is a little much, but the golden guns are pretty badass. You’re half distracted with Javi’s proximity, leaned in to flip through his photos, shoulder to shoulder. Tart orange peel and the clean musk of some expensive cologne engulfs your senses. Add the relaxing effects of the booze and you’re actively trying not to cuddle up to this stranger with an insane amount of movie memorabilia. 

“But you have not told me what your sister and Nic have to do with Christmas?” Javi finally says, leaning back in his seat and finishing his drink. 

“Okay, okay, so after that first Christmas it’s a tradition every year. I get her some silly Nic Cage thing, she pretends to get mad about it, and we all have a good laugh. So far it’s been the pillow, a shirt, a mug, and a really awful coloring book.” Javi shakes his head and laughs, catching the flight attendant’s eye to bring another round of drinks. You’re pretty sure that’s not how it works in coach, but Javi’s charisma gets him two nips and two glasses of ice palmed to him surreptitiously. If only you had that charm.

“So what is the gift this year? Pants? Shoelaces?” he teases, pouring your drinks. 

“That’s the problem! I haven’t found it yet! I’ve looked everywhere for the perfect gift and I am coming up empty!” You slump back in your seat, accepting the second drink with a wry smile. “I’m gonna break my streak.”

“I may be able to help you with that,” Javi says with a sly little smile, looking at you over the top of his cup. 

“Something out of your collection? I’m sure you’ve got some fun things in there you’re not showing me,” you say, altitude and alcohol making that come out flirtier than you expected. 

“Even better. I know Nic,” he says, beginning a standoff between your incredulous face and his smug one.

“You’re joking.”

“I wrote a screenplay, he was the lead. We’re good friends.”

You have to bury your mouth in your elbow to keep from screeching like a pterodactyl.

“You’re fucking with me, really?”

“He came and stayed at my home. He’s an incredible man - talented, kind, humble, funny. I could call him up the second we land and have him record something for your sister. It would be the ultimate gift.” 

You have to admit, that would be incredible. A personalized message from Nic Cage himself? Your sister would shit a brick. You would win Christmas for sure. 

“And what would you want in return for being my Christmas miracle?” you ask, but Javi only shakes his head good-naturedly.

“Only the pleasure of your company,” he says breezily. You scoff at that.

“I don’t think my company is quite worth that.”

“I do.”

The air thickens around you, not daring to look up and see what expression Javi is wearing. Instead you let your finger run the circuit of your cup rim, hot flashes bursting along your collar. Your heartbeat thuds with twin thoughts - yes yes yes and not worthy. 

Some air would probably do you good. You excuse yourself to the restroom and lock the door firmly behind you. 

The tiny plastic sink is grounding under your hands, the hum of alcohol in your blood receding. A glance at yourself in the mirror makes you grimace - disheveled, tired eyes, rumpled loungewear that suits plane travel but not handsome strangers chatting you up. You splash a little water on your face, fortifying yourself for the return to your seat. Anyways, Javi’s out of your league, fun only because you’re trapped in a plane together. He clearly has money or comes from money, and once outside this pressurized tube you’d never be able to hold a candle to the life he has. 

So stop fucking fantasizing about what you would do if he opened that door right now and joined you in this tiny bathroom. If he’d be soft and sweet, plying you with passionate kisses as he lifted you to balance on the edge of the sink. Or maybe those flashes of focus you kept glimpsing were signs of a man who would fuck you hard and fast, time a factor but attentive to your pleasure. Would he urge you to bite down on his shoulder to muffle your cries before he spills his seed on your inner thighs?

Are you fucking rhyming now?

Sighing, you open the door and run almost directly into the man himself, a sheepish smile on his face. Your face is on fire, nodding and smiling as you pass in the tiny space outside the bathroom. Returning to your seat you try to center yourself, but a tap on your arm directs you to your forgotten aisle neighbor. She smiles conspiratorially.

“He’s single,” she says simply, eyes sparkling, and you share a secret giggle at her wingmanning your chance encounter. “And he’s clearly interested, trust me. If you don’t get his number you’ll be kicking yourself later,” she adds before going back to her show. Javi returns soon after, a few wet trails in his hair and a fresh face.

“It is not so bad in coach,” he muses, pulling out his iPad and opening up his library. 

“Even without the champagne?” you toss back, getting your own entertainment set up. The distance beginning to grow between you dampens your mood, fingers uncertain as they fiddle with the tech. 

“Even without the champagne,” Javi sighs back with a wink. He scrolls through and settles on something before looking up at you, lips parted around a question. You wait with baited breath.

“Do you…want to watch a movie with me?” he asks tentatively. “I was going to watch a favorite of mine, if you want me to AirDrop it to you?”

Heart fluttering but trying to keep your cool, you nod. “What movie?”

“Paddington 2.”

After all the Nic Cage talk, this takes you by surprise.

“I’ve never seen it.”

Javi’s face breaks out in joy.

“Then we have to watch it.”

How could you say no to that smile?

Syncing pressing play, you both settle in to watch the children’s movie. It’s honestly really good, Javi occasionally leaning over to whisper commentary in your ear. The tickle of his breath against the baby hairs along your nape is a delicious shudder you savor. 

After Paddington 2, it’s airline lunch, which Javi pokes at with an mistrusting face. You share some snacks between you as he queues up National Treasure, “the perfect movie for flying,” which leads you to debate whether that title should belong to Con Air.

It’s halfway through the movie (which still stands up after all these years) when your eyelids begin to pull, settling deeper into your uncomfortable seat. Javi peeks through his lashes, sliding a little closer.

“If you would like to close your eyes, you can lean on me,” he says with gentle hesitancy. 

“Don’t want to be a bother,” you protest, a yawn interrupting further thoughts. Javi gives you that soft smile you don’t feel worthy of receiving.

“What is a little touch between friends?” he says, an echo of his previous sentiment.

Everything, you think to yourself before resting your head against his warm shoulder. 

You dream of Javi between your legs in the plane bathroom, holding you tight to his chest as he fills you with his cock. He is whispering movie trivia to you, punctuating his thrusts with facts your mind can’t grip. Legs spread wide, head bumping against the mirror behind you, he pushes you higher and higher, hips snapping into your core. The door opens - Nic Cage pokes his head in, asking Javi about changes to a script. Javi pulls back to talk to him as he keeps fucking you senseless, swapping ideas as your orgasm hovers on the precipice. He turns back to your pleading face before absentmindedly licking his thumb and pressing it on your clit.

“Want to watch her cum, Nic?” he asks, your eyes rolling back in your head. 

A jolt of turbulence shocks you awake, your body in unbalanced arousal from that confusing dream. A wide palm strokes along your forearm, Javi’s rumbling hum right next to your ear.

“It is okay, conejita,” he murmurs, your mind blearily taking in how far you’ve leaned on him, his hand on your arm, his mouth moving against the crown of your head. “Only a few bumps, you can sleep.”

“What’s conny…” you mumble, but close your eyes at his urging. He breathes a puff of air into your scalp.

“You twitch your nose when you’re sleeping, like a bunny,” he says, hand slowing to only his thumb caressing your skin. Humming in response, you slip back under, thankfully into a dreamless sleep. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been when you finally rise, neck stiff and fingers tingling. Javi’s watching something in black and white, a man and a woman having an animated conversation. Straightening up, you wipe the corner of your mouth and pray you didn’t drool. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Javi teases, “they said we should be landing in an hour.” The rapidly approaching deadline makes you wish you hadn’t passed out, even if it was the most comfortable you’ve ever been on a plane. You want to ask Javi more about himself, the life he leads, the movies he loves. But the flight attendants are making the rounds, stilling your tongue. This is only a chance meeting, nothing more. 

The landing is smooth and uneventful, both of you watching the Boston skyline come into view. You ask Javi if he’s ever been before and when he responds in the negative you point out popular landmarks, the Leonard Zakim Bridge the easiest to spot.

De-boarding is always a mess, but with the extra legroom it’s easy to get your carry-on out quickly. Javi helps you get it down, pulling his own out as well. You stand and stretch your legs, admiring how Javi's shirt pulls across his back while he packs his belongings. 

With nods and smiles and “thank yous” said on the way out, you’re free from the tight confines and in the open air of Logan. It’s nothing fancy, but it feels like homecoming whenever you enter the familiar airport. 

“Walk you to baggage claim?” you ask, Javi’s expression blooming from uncertainty to agreement. You savor the last dregs of conversation, Javi telling you he’s visiting family friends on the Cape for a few weeks. The time to part is nearing, but you don’t know what you want to ask. For his email? His number? Could you really ask for anything?

Bags in hand and a man in a suit with a printed “Gutierrez” sign looking pointedly at Javi, you finally square up to your unlikely friend.

“Thanks for a fun flight, I can’t say I’ve had a better one,” you start, Javi waving his hands in protest.

“A pleasure for me as well.” The awkwardness mounts as Javi’s driver fidgets impatiently. Girding yourself, you speak.

“I should probably…”

“I need your number.”

Javi’s blurted out request stops your goodbye, eyes widening. His do too as he stumbles to explain, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

“For the video! From Nic. For your sister. I promised, didn’t I? And you were very good company, I must keep up my side of the deal,” he rushes out, flushing high in his cheeks. You couldn’t stop beaming if you tried.

“Yeah, you’re right, you’re gonna help me win Christmas for sure,” you say, typing your number into his phone. Relief dances in his eyes as you hand the phone back, sending a quick “It’s Javi” text to you. “You only have three days to get it, though, you’re on the clock.” 

“Nic will come through, I know it,” he says, hands wrapping around your upper arms. He hesitates, then pulls you into a hug that blocks out the sweat and grime and frustration of the world around you. Orange peel and warmth fill your nostrils, and you hug him back, face tucking under the light scruff of his jaw. He holds you for longer than you expect but just long enough to know you’ll miss being hugged like this.

“Take care, conejita,” he says, watching you over his shoulder as he leaves. You wait for him to be out of sight before heading on your way.

Christmas morning, after all the presents are opened, coffee is drunk and cheer is spread, you pair your phone to your parent’s TV and play a video message.

“Hi Clara, this is Nic Cage. My friend Javi told me you were one of my biggest fans. Now I don’t know if you can compete with him, but if he says so I have to think it’s at least a little bit true. So to my biggest fan, Merry Christmas, happy holidays, happy new year, and if you’re ever nearby I owe you a photo, a handshake, and some thanks for all your support. Take care.”

Your sister is in stitches, laughing on the floor and interrogating you about how you pulled it off. For now, your lips are sealed. 

The other video message, sent right after, you keep as your own Christmas present. 

“I told you he would come through, conejita! Merry Christmas, I hope you are spending it with the ones you love. Maybe we will be on the same flight back to LA and I will get to see you again? Or...ah, I have no plans for New Years…and you know, it’s bad luck to start the new year without a kiss. If you…would like to be mine, this year, maybe I can take you out. Yes. I would like to take you out. Please. If you want. Okay, let me…let me know. Okay, bye.”

You would very much like that.

END

Part 2: A Bearable Weight

#javi g x f!reader #javi g x reader #javi gutierrez x f!reader #javi gutierrez x reader #javi g x you #javi g x female reader #javi gutierrez x you #prolix fics

[libraryofgage]

Hashah Tovah! It's Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and there's no such thing as too much Jewish Steve in my book (that being said, this story isn't about the New Year, it's about Shabbat hfjdks)

Also, I'm gonna be honest, this fic is a love letter to Judaism and my experiences with my temple and the people there. My experiences aren't universal, though, so please don't take anything here as, like, the end-all-be-all of Judaism. If you have questions about anything here, you can ask me; I'll be happy to answer ^_^

The time period is also very loose. Upside Down happened, but some of the attitudes are probably a bit more modern. Honestly, I suggest just shutting off your brain and enjoying the story lmao

CW: vague mentions of antisemitism and homophobia

As always, if you see any typos no you didn't

(also this is like 4k so buckle in bois)

----

Steve's car has officially given up on life. Honestly, he's surprised it even managed to live this long. For all it's been through, it probably deserves some rest and TLC. Steve just wishes it could have demanded that rest and TLC on any other day.

Because it's Friday. Because it's Shabbat. Because he's about to have a mob of concerned elderly members of his temple crowding his door if he doesn't go to services tonight, and that's not something he wants his neighbors to see.

He considers calling Robin, but she won't be much help. She might be his Emergency Goy, but she doesn't have a car. Now that he's thinking about it, Robin may not be the best Emergency Goy, not that he'd ever tell her that.

He knows one other person with a car, of course, but that means he has to call Eddie. Not that Steve has anything against him, of course, but Eddie makes him feel a lot of things that he's not quite ready to confront just yet.

Steve frowns, staring at the phone for a long moment, trying to come up with any other option.

Steve comes up empty.

Shit.

He takes a deep breath and takes the phone off the receiver, slowly punching in the numbers as though he'll suddenly have an epiphany before he's finished dialing.

Unfortunately, he doesn't, and the phone is now ringing. It rings twice before getting picked up, Eddie's familiar voice saying, "You've reached Casa de Munson. The fuck do you want?"

"Do you always answer the phone like that?" Steve asks, momentarily forgetting about the favor he was planning to ask.

He hears Eddie hum and can practically picture the way he's now leaning against the wall next to the phone, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Stevie. What, pray tell, has you calling me?" he asks.

Steve almost hangs up. This is already stressful for him. What if Eddie doesn't agree? Worst, what if he does? Wouldn't that mean Eddie is going to see a part of himself that nobody but Robin has seen? That's fucking terrifying. What if Eddie suddenly hates him?

"I, uh, I need a favor," Steve admits.

"What kind of favor?"

If he wanted, Steve could just lie. It wouldn't be his first time lying about Friday plans. "My car won't start," Steve says, hesitating for a second more before continuing, "and I need a ride to the next town tonight."

"Gee, Harrington, get invited to a party?" Eddie asks, a slight edge to his voice that Steve can't quite place.

"What? No. I...it's not a party, okay? This is really important to me, man. Can you give me a ride or should I ask someone else?"

Maybe Hopper or Joyce would have enough time to give him a ride. He just needs to be dropped off. Getting back...can be a bridge he crosses when he comes to it.

"What time would we be getting back?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve from his thoughts.

"Probably after nine. And we need to be there at six, so that means leaving here no later than five," Steve says, trying to ignore the growing hope and sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. "I know it's really last minute, but you could spend the night at my place after. If you want."

"Will it be fun?"

"Uh, maybe? I don't know, man, it kinda depends. I find it fun, but you might get...bored," Steve says. Or offended. Maybe infuriated? Maybe betrayed that this is a whole part of Steve's life he's never hinted at.

"You're being real mysterious about all this, big boy."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just hard to explain."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm bored and curious."

----

On the drive, Eddie keeps trying to figure out where Steve is directing him. He keeps asking questions, Steve keeps dodging them, and that feeling of inevitable dread keeps growing.

Of course, all that dodging is rendered obsolete as Eddie pulls into a parking spot and shuts off the van. A few families are walking into the temple, some parents glancing curiously at the unfamiliar van, some glancing suspiciously, and some too distracted by kids to notice.

"Uh, are you sure this is the place?" Eddie asks, frowning slightly as he looks at the temple and then at Steve.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, his hands nervously gripping the material of his sweater. "I'm Jewish," he blurts out, feeling his face burning. When a few seconds pass without any response, he burns holes into a tree outside and adds, "It's Friday night services. Shabbat. I've missed too many because of...you know. The, um, the Rabbi called and asked if I was okay, and I promised to be at services tonight. You don't have to stay if you don't feel comfortable."

"You don't look Jewish."

Steve tenses, jerking his head to look at Eddie. There's no malice in his eyes. No suspicion, either, thankfully. He just looks...confused. "What's a Jew supposed to look like?" Steve asks in return, wondering if Eddie even knows that he's toeing the edge of the antisemitic swimming pool.

Eddie opens his mouth before closing it again. "Uh...I don't know, actually. Just...not you, I guess?"

Okay. Yeah. Steve can deal with this. He forces himself to relax. "Well, Jews come in all shapes and sizes," he says. He hesitates before deciding to get a burning question out of the way. "Are you angry?"

"What the fuck would I be angry about?"

"That I didn't tell you. That I was Jewish. To be fair, only Robin knows."

Eddie shakes his head, turning in his seat to face Steve. "No, Stevie, I'm not angry. I mean, I live in Hawkins, too. Not exactly the place to be standing out unless you wanna get accused of murder."

Despite himself, Steve can't help snorting at that. He takes a deep breath, the last bit of tension leaving his shoulders. "Well, uh, do you want to stay for services?" he asks.

"Can I? I'm not Jewish. And I'm dressed like this," Eddie says, gesturing at his clothes.

A Hellfire Club shirt, denim vest, gaudy rings, and dark jeans. It's incredibly Eddie, and something about it reassures Steve. He says, "You're with me, so not being Jewish is fine. And your clothes are okay, too. It's not formal."

"My shirt literally says Hellfire."

"Well, it's a good thing Judaism doesn't really have a hell."

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds, clearly full of questions, but then he just nods and climbs out of the van. Steve blinks and scrambles out as well, wanting to create some kind of buffer between Eddie and the congregation members who see a stranger and instantly become defensive.

The moment he's shut the door, he hears a little kid shout excitedly, "Steve!"

He whirls around in time to see a young girl rush across the parking lot, much to the shock and concern of her guardian. Thankfully, there aren't any cars, so the girl is unimpeded in her rush to Steve.

Eddie comes around the side of the van just in time to see the girl launch herself at Steve, giggling when he lifts her up and spins. "Yael! Have you gotten bigger?" he asks, smiling brightly as he comes to a stop and sets her on his waist.

Yael returns his smile with a grin of her own, tilting her head up so he can clearly see the brand-new gap in her teeth. "I lost a tooth! See? It came out last week," she tells him, practically bouncing in his arms.

By now, Yael's grandfather has reached them, smiling indulgently. "Yael," he says, his voice gentle but firm, "you know better than to run across parking lots." When she mumbles an apology, he looks at Steve, his smile turning warm. "Steve, it's been a few weeks. I'm glad to see you again, and you've even brought a friend."

Steve returns the smile and nods, shifting closer to Eddie. "Yeah, things got a little...chaotic in Hawkins. Oh. Mr. Adler, this is Eddie Munson. Eddie, Elijah Alder."

Mr. Adler's eyes light up, and Steve suddenly remembers something incredibly embarrassing. "Oh?" he says, looking at Eddie with renewed interest, "So this is the famous Eddie Munson? I'm glad to see you've healed well."

Eddie blinks, glancing at Steve. "Uh, thanks. How'd you know?"

"Steve asked the Rabbi to include you during the Mi Shebeirach."

"The Misha what now?"

"Mi Shebeirach," Steve says, gently nudging Eddie with his elbow. "It's a prayer for healing."

Mr. Adler nods once, his eyes practically dancing with new gossip. "Oh, yes, you've created quite the stir among the Sisterhood, you know. They have a backlog of Mi Shebeirach cards and nowhere to send them."

Steve translates that information as "the old ladies have been dying to know who this mysterious Eddie Munson is, so Steve had better brace himself." His smile becomes a little strained. "Well, let's get it over with, then."

Mr. Adler nods and gestures for Steve and Eddie to follow as he leads them toward the temple. While they walk, Yael looks at Eddie, her eyes wide. "Why is your hair so long?" she asks.

"Cuz I like it that way."

"Oh. Why are you wearing rings?"

"Because they're cool."

"Oh. Why did you need healing?"

"I was hurt really bad."

"Oh. By what?"

"A bear."

"Oh. Are you Steve's friend?"

Eddie glances at Steve, meeting his eyes for a brief second before smiling at Yael. "Yeah, Stevie and I are best friends."

Yael smiles right back. "Steve is my best friend, too! He's super strong and can carry me without getting tired and makes the best hamentaschen at Purim!"

"Yael," Mr. Adler says, cutting off any continuation of the conversation as they reach the doors of the temple. "Why don't you go let the Rabbi know Steve has joined us?"

Her entire face lights up with joy. "Okay!" she shouts, wiggling in Steve's arms until he lets her down. She tugs open the door, straining until Steve smiles and helps her. "Thanks! Bye, Steve!"

With that, she dashes into the temple, her voice carrying Steve's name into the room full of other people. When almost all of them, including three children that Steve can see, stop what they're doing and look over at the door, Mr. Adler says from behind Steve and Eddie, "Brace yourselves, my boys. The wolves have appeared."

Steve groans as Mr. Adler pushes them both inside. "Should I be worried?" Eddie whispers, leaning in closer to Steve as the door shuts behind them.

"I apologize in advance," Steve tells him.

Despite his words, he has a large grin as the three kids shout his name and rush over, much like Yael did. They're followed by a few teenagers and their parents. The kids pounce on Steve, two holding onto his biceps and hanging from them as he raises his arms while the third clings to his leg.

"Where ya been?" one of the teens asks, her hair pulled back into a ponytail so permed it looks ready to burst.

"Yeah, man, I've been manning the oneg table by myself," another teen says, his arms crossed over a Metallica shirt. He's got piercings climbing up one ear and through an eyebrow, and his gaze moves to Eddie as he speaks, taking in the other boy. "Who's this?"

"Yeah," another girl asks, smiling at Eddie and batting her eyes in a way that makes even Steve feel uncomfortable, "who's your friend, Steve?"

"Kids," an older woman says, pushing her way through them, "you know better than to crowd. Shouldn't you be passing out prayer books right now?" Once she's managed to shoo the teens away, she turns her gaze on the children still clinging to Steve. "And you three, I heard Mrs. Rost needs help in the kitchen. Something about there being too many cookies to platter all by herself."

Steve suddenly finds himself weightless as the kids abandon him, dashing down the hall toward the kitchen. He smiles with slight relief and looks at the woman. "Thanks," he says, rolling his shoulders.

"Of course, Steve. Now, who's your friend?" she asks, looking Eddie up and down curiously.

"Oh, right. Uh. Rabbi, this is Eddie Munson. Eddie, this is Rabbi Sara. I, um, I was hoping he could sit in on services tonight?"

Rabbi Sara immediately smiles at them. She holds out her hand to Eddie, shaking firmly when he returns the gesture. "Of course! I'm glad to see you're doing better, Eddie. We've been a bit worried about you here," she says. She glances around before leaning in and conspiratorially whispering, "There's a betting pool on whether his name would be added to the Mourner's Kiddish."

Steve snorts, knowing exactly which members would have started that bet. "Yeah, well, tell Diane and Yakov they've lost."

Rabbi Sara barely holds back her laughter, nodding once as she lets go of Eddie's hand. "Well, how about I spare you boys from socializing more," she offers.

When Steve nods, she gestures for them to follow her, leading the way to the sanctuary. He glances at Eddie as they walk, taking in the way he's tugging on a lock of hair and looking at the hall around them. "You doing okay?" Steve whispers, leaning in closer.

Eddie glances at him, is silent for a few minutes, and then says, "It's a lot to take in."

"Service will be easier. Lots of music. You'll like it," Steve promises, smiling reassuringly at Eddie. He hesitates before adding, "And if you want to leave, just let me know. The important part was making sure people saw I wasn't dead."

That's not entirely true. Steve doesn't want to leave the Shabbat service. He misses the routine of it and the feeling of togetherness as everyone sings. But Eddie's comfort is taking precedence here; he's already given Steve a ride and has begun subjecting himself to Steve's nosy congregation. Leaving early if he gets overwhelmed is the least Steve can do, really.

The teen in the Metallica shirt, Sam, holds out two prayer books when Rabbi Sara leads them to the sanctuary doors. His gaze lingers on Eddie for a few seconds more before asking, "Dude, do I know you?"

Eddie blinks and raises an eyebrow. "I don't know. Do you?"

Their gazes hold for nearly a minute before Sam's eyes widen and light with recognition. Steve is bracing himself for the worst (you know, devil worshipper, accused murderer, wannabe criminal, take your pick). Instead, Sam grins and says, "Yeah, I totally do! You're in that band, yeah? The one that plays at Hideout sometimes? Corroded Coffin. Your music is metal, man."

Eddie returns Sam's grin, throwing an arm over his shoulders and leaning in close. "You know, you're alright. Always happy to meet a fan. What's your favorite song?"

"You played that new one last Saturday. Bats, I think. It spoke to me, man."

Steve stares at Eddie, wondering how he missed the fact that Corroded Coffin started playing gigs again. A curl of something like regret or maybe hurt begins to build in his stomach, and he's almost overtaken by it when Eddie nods and says, "Oh, yeah, that one's about Stevie."

"Oohh, dude, that makes so much sense now."

"You wrote a song about me?" Steve asks, successfully regaining Eddie's attention.

Apparently, Eddie sort of forgot he was there. His relaxed posture becomes a little awkward, and he removes his arm from Sam's shoulder. He clears his throat, tugging a lock of hair in front of his mouth as he says, "Yeah. Is, uh, is that a problem?"

"No," Steve says, feeling a reassuring smile tug at his lips, "but you should play it for me sometime."

"This is all very touching," a voice says behind them, "but can you take the flirting inside the sanctuary? We still need our prayer books."

Steve jolts and looks behind them, laughing awkwardly when he sees Rivkah, a woman in her early 30s, and her partner, Tamar. "Sorry," he says, grabbing Eddie's arm and dragging him through the doors.

"Hey, Harrington," Eddie whispers, allowing himself to be pulled over to some chairs near the left corner of the sanctuary, "is everything okay? Like...are we...safe?"

It takes a moment for Steve to understand what Eddie means. Like, of course, he can't guarantee their safety. It's a synagogue. Every person here old enough to understand the world knows the risk, the potential for one person to show up and wreak utter destruction. Steve is about to say as much (and explain the temple's "worst case scenario" game plan) when he notices Eddie glancing at Rivkah and Tamar.

A light bulb practically clicks on above him, and he almost laughs at himself. He sits down and tugs Eddie into the seat next to him. "Yeah, we're safe, Eds," he promises, smiling softly when Eddie looks at him. "Rivkah and Tamar are married. I attended the ceremony. It was very nice. Tamar broke the glass."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly, and he looks around the sanctuary with renewed interest. His gaze especially lingers on the people that file in, taking in the couples and families and groups that wouldn't make much sense outside the temple's doors. Steve is content to let him look, allowing himself to relax back into the seat and wait.

After almost 15 minutes, Rabbi Sara approaches the bema and smiles at everyone. "Good evening, and Shabbat Shalom," she says, nodding along as her greeting is returned. "I'm glad to see so many familiar faces tonight. And some new ones. The week has been long for some of us, but it's now come to an end, and we have gathered to celebrate its end, another week's beginning, and being together. Now, please open your books to page 47 for the L'cha Dodi."

Steve flips open his book as Anna, the cantor and the same girl who tried to flirt with Eddie, starts playing the guitar next to Rabbi Sara. "Uh, the book is backward," Eddie whispers, leaning close to Steve.

"Hebrew is written right to left," Steve explains, taking Eddie's book and opening it to the right page. "Also, don't worry about singing along. Just try to follow. If you don't know where we are, just nudge me. I'll point you to the right spot."

Eddie nods, looking almost overwhelmed, but Rabbi Sara starts singing before Steve can reassure him verbally. Instead, he just shifts so their shoulders are pressed together, flashing a tiny smile when Eddie looks at him before joining the rest of the congregation in singing.

Steve has to point Eddie at the right line a few times, but he doesn't mind. He's memorized the prayer by now, and the book is really just for show. He pulls Eddie up with the rest of the congregation during the L'cha Dodi, turns him to the sanctuary doors, and places a hand on his back to gently nudge him into a bow. Eddie blinks through it, following along but seeming overwhelmed by the entire process. When the prayer is finished and Rabbi Sara invites them to greet each other, Steve looks at Eddie with a smile (one of the most genuine smiles he's had in weeks), holds out his hand, and says, "Shabbat Shalom, Eddie."

Eddie doesn't hesitate to take his hand, leaning in close and returning the smile. "Shabbat Shalom?" he asks, speaking slowly to test the words and let Steve approve of the pronunciation. When Steve nods, Eddie's smile grows wider, and he whispers, "Shabbat Shalom, sweetheart."

That...that's a new nickname. And Steve doesn't know what to do with it. Maybe Eddie just wanted the pseudo-alliteration, but his smile says otherwise, and Steve feels like he's frozen in place.

And then a few of the kids dash over to him, shouting, "Shabbat Shalom!" at the top of their lungs and practically fighting to shake his hand first. Steve would feel honored if he didn't know they raced to beat each other to every adult.

After greeting, they light the candles. After lighting the candles, Rabbi Sara leads them into the next prayer, the rest of the service flowing smoothly with her as their guide.

The service is (beautifully, wonderfully, incredibly, thankfully) the same as always. Prayers are sung, and Steve can practically feel them in his bones. He's never been particularly religious (his mother would say they're more culturally Jewish than anything else), but he can't deny that the sound of over 50 people, young and old and in-between, singing together is an otherworldly experience.

They are singing a language that only a few of them actually know how to speak. Steve is reading a language that he wouldn't recognize outside of the prayer book. It's disconcerting as always, but also special, because he shares in the ignorance and devotion wrapped into singing words he wouldn't understand without the book's translation on the opposite page.

The Mi Shebeirach and the Mourner's Kiddish are Steve's sign that service is almost over. And for the first time in forever, Steve doesn't speak any names when Rabbi Sara calls for them. He sinks back into his seat, an unfamiliar relief easing tension he didn't even know he had anymore. But it's true. Everyone is fine, and they've all healed, and Steve no longer has to say Max's name or Will's or Hopper's or Eddie's. He no longer has to dodge questions or call up the Rabbi and ask her to include an extra name in the service.

And this realization, the sheer relief he feels at the simple act of staying quiet when Rabbi Sara's gaze sweeps past him, is almost enough to bring him to tears. His throat gets tight, his eyes burn, and his voice almost cracks when he joins the rest of the congregation in singing for those in need of healing and those who have passed.

Eddie nudges him gently, and Steve glances at him and then at their shared armrest. Eddie's hand is lying palm-up, a silent invitation, and Steve doesn't hesitate to accept. He slips his hand into Eddie's, interlocking their fingers, and feels infinitely better when Eddie squeezes his hand gently.

----

"So," Steve says, refraining from getting up as others file out of the sanctuary, practically tripping over kids racing to reach the oneg brownies first, "did you...like it?"

Eddie is silent for a few minutes, staring down at their hands. Steve almost pulls away, an apology ready on his tongue, when Eddie squeezes his hand tighter. "Yeah. It was...different. But good. I...there was more singing than I expected."

Steve grins, glancing up to see the sanctuary has mostly cleared, and stands. He pulls Eddie up with him. "Yeah, we sing most of our prayers. It's nice."

"It is," Eddie agrees, still looking a little lost for words.

Steve doesn't push. Instead, he pulls, leading Eddie out of the sanctuary. He gives their prayer books to Sam, grabs two tiny, sample-sized cups of Manischewitz wine, and gives one to Eddie. "Don't drink it yet," he says, nodding to where Rabbi Sara has her own cup and is waiting for the rest to be passed around.

Once everyone is ready, she blesses the wine, blesses the challah, and invites them all to drink and eat. Steve braces himself before knocking the wine back, the strong, warm grape flavor coating his tongue, vaguely reminiscent of cough medicine. He sees the same grimace on Eddie's face. "This is shit wine," Eddie whispers, his nose still scrunched as he tosses the cup into the trashcan like he can't get rid of it fast enough.

"Yeah. It's specifically for services," Steve says, "it's not supposed to be good."

"Right," Eddie mumbles, glancing at the oneg table, his eyes lingering on the desserts laid out. "Do you wanna stick around? You know, talk to people?"

Usually, Steve would. He likes catching up with the kids and teens, likes ganging up on them when their parents come around and playfully scold them, and he likes hearing the most recent temple gossip. But as he looks at Eddie, feels their hands still tightly holding onto each other, Steve finds he doesn't mind leaving early.

So, he leans in closer to Eddie and grins at him. "Or," he whispers, "we could steal an extra pack of brownies from the kitchen, sneak out the back, and eat them on the drive home."

Eddie returns the grin, amusement and eagerness practically dancing in his eyes, and says, "You read my mind, sweetheart."

Later, when Eddie pulls into Steve's driveway after an hour-long ride spent eating brownies, explaining different prayers, and telling him about old temple gossip, a different kind of tension will start to fester between them. Steve will delay getting out of the car, Eddie won't comment on it, and they'll slowly gravitate toward each other.

And they'll kiss. It will be awkward and taste like chocolate and end far too quickly, but it will be perfect.

Steve will pull away, a faint blush rising and his heart racing faster than it ever did with Nancy, and shyly offer to let Eddie spend the night. And Eddie will accept and spend the night and ask to attend Shabbat with Steve again and...

And so much more.

But for now, while he has no clue of the future that's about to start after an hour's drive, Steve glances around the crowded hall and pulls Eddie toward the kitchen.

After all, they've got brownies to steal.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #jewish steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fic #my writing #this is so fucking self indulgent guys

[rollinouttahere-writes]

The Searing Pain part 2 ad Merfolk AU part 2 WAS FIRE🔥. Especially the emotions in Searing Pain, I swear I felt my heart ache when Luffy cried there.

About the request , It's more about the Merfolk AU but feel to make it with regular Strawhats pirates!

So , what if the Merfolk AU Strawhats meet Y/n who lives alone in the island and actually doesn't mind them hanging around as long as they won't bother them. Y/n don't hate them or scared of them but doesn't like them.

Happy birthday @emtynessinmyworld ! I hope you like this! Sorry if it feels rushed, but I wanted to get it done in time for your b-day!

What's the harm?

Yandere Merfolk Straw Hats x GN!Reader

2.1k words

“They’re back again,” you muttered while peering out the window. 

The “they” in question was some pod of merfolk that have decided to make your island their favorite hangout. It started with them stopping here to get some fruit off of the trees near the shore. You didn’t particularly care that they were here. There was more than enough fruit to go around, so you decided to just leave them be.

However, they were not content to leave you be.

Once they realized that you weren’t going to chase them off, they became enamored with you. It makes sense, you suppose. When the usual reaction they get from humans is either a fearful or violent one, it’s understandable that they might become fond of someone who was simply indifferent to them. If they want to chill here where they won’t be harassed by humans, then you’ll let them.

You just wish they would stop trying to bother you. When you chose to make a small abandoned island your home, it wasn’t because you were dying for social interaction. Quite the opposite. All you wanted was to be left alone, and for years you were. Now? You were lucky to go more than a week without seeing those people.

Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepare for what’s to come. There were lots of things for you to do today. A storm passed through last night and took a heavy toll on your roof, so you’ll need to patch that up. Your garden probably also isn’t faring too well. Fortunately, you were able to drag the potted plants inside, but everything in the ground is probably dead. You need to do some fishing too, but you’ll wait until they leave to do that. Being that close to the water when they’re here is a hassle. 

Steeling yourself, you push open the door and slip outside as quietly as possible. These efforts were all in vain, as it seems they were waiting for you.

There’s a call of your name behind you. A look over your shoulder revealed it to be who you assume is their leader, Luffy. The bull shark merman flashed you a wide, sharp toothed smile and waved frantically at you. 

You had to fight the urge to go back inside, he was the worst offender out of them all. This guy genuinely did not seem to understand the concept of personal space. He also didn’t know how to stop talking, much to your chagrin. There’s also the issue of him being able to go into freshwater, something you learned about him while trying to fetch some drinking water from a river flowing through the island. Not only did he scare the hell out of you with his sudden appearance, he also launched himself out of the water to tackle you in a hug. You don’t like hugs at the best of times, but you especially don’t like them when they result in your water being spilled and getting soaking wet.

“Hey! Do you wanna come swim with us?!” Luffy shouted.

He asks that every time that they’re here, regardless of the fact that you’ve refused every single time. Apparently he wasn’t getting the hint.

“No, Luffy. I’m busy and have lots to do today, I don’t have time for that,” you answered. Not giving him a chance to ask more questions, you sped off towards your garden, praying that no one tries to follow you. You’ve had to drag Luffy back into the water on multiple occasions when he attempted to come after you and got too dried out from being out of the water. Much to your dismay, he took this as a sign of friendship and not just basic human decency.

As expected, the garden was in ruins. Your heart sank at the unfortunate sight. After removing all the debris thrown onto it by the storm, you saw that nothing had survived. Everything was ripped up and destroyed. You felt sick to your stomach knowing how dangerous it was to lose this many crops. It was early enough into the season that you could replant it and still harvest them in time before winter, but that would require you going back to the mainland for more seeds.

You hated having to go back and be around so many people, but it had to be done. Maybe you could set sail tomorrow? If the merfolk were gone by then, of course. You don’t want them following you for the entire two day journey.

Since the garden is done for, looks like you’ll be doing some foraging today. After the roof repairs. Those definitely take precedent here. Sighing, you turn and make your way back to your home. It’ll probably take most of the day to finish it based on how bad it was leaking last night. Your home was within eyesight of the shore, which meant that the merfolk were going to be trying to talk to you the whole time. How annoying.

As you get closer, you’re confused to hear what sounds like hammering. Where is that noise coming from? Picking up the pace, you hurry to the source and see that it’s coming from your house. Looking up, you see the colorful form of Franky crawling over what once was your roof and hammering on new planks of wood. Beside your home was a pile of discarded roofing tiles and wood.

All you can do is gawk at him while your brain tries to process what he’s doing. The large mantis shrimp notices your presence and stops what he’s doing to wave at you, “Oh hey! I saw that your roof was all messed up so I thought I’d fix it for you! At first I was just going to retile it, but then I saw that the rafters were damaged too, so I’m rebuilding all of it. Don’t worry, I’ll have this finished before it’s night.”

With that said, he went back to work. You didn’t know what to do or say about this. Given that your entire roof was now ripped off, you didn’t exactly want to tell him to stop. As much as you don’t want him to be doing this, it felt too late to keep him from it now. You’ll just have to let it go. Also where in the same hell did he get lumber and roofing tiles from? You doubt you’ll ever know.

Hazarding a glance to the shore, you can see the rest of them relaxing. Nami is currently laying on the shore and sunbathing with Robin reading a book next to her. Luffy is dangling from a tree hanging over the ocean trying to grab some fruit from the higher branches while Usopp and Chopper egg him on. 

Oh good, he’s occupied and hasn’t noticed you. Grabbing a basket from outside your house, you run into the forested area of the island to forage. You’re hoping that if you stay out long enough that they’ll be gone by the time you get back. You’ll need to gather at least enough food to last you on your voyage to get seeds.

Lucky for you, the food on this island was plentiful. Between you being the only person on the island and the minimal animal life, there were plenty of fruits and root vegetables to choose from. You could hunt for birds too, but usually you got your protein from fish.

The foraging was going well, but the heat was starting to get to you. Today was not only hot, but also humid and you felt like you were suffocating. Sweat was pouring down your back as you pulled yourself up the tree to grab some fruit. You wanted it to be a little under ripe so that it would ripen up during your journey. Your basket was hung up on a lower branch for you to drop your findings into.

After dropping the last of the fruit you found into it, you slumped against the trunk of the tree. You wanted to do more foraging, but this heat was becoming too much for you. All of the sweating had made you dehydrated, too. If you don’t head back soon you’ll be putting yourself at risk of a heat stroke. 

Nodding to yourself, you climb down and grab the fruit basket. It’s full enough that you’re content to call it a day. You can only hope that the merfolk have left by now, but at this point you don’t care. You just want to drink something.

Your house comes into view and you’re pleasantly surprised to see the roof is finished and Franky is nowhere to be seen. Despite your annoyance at him inviting himself to work on it without your permission, you have to admit that his handiwork is impeccable. The roof looks noticeably nicer than the rest of the house, and there is a large blue star painted onto the front of it.

Where he got the paint from is beyond you. Probably from wherever he pulled the lumber out of if you had to guess.

Before you could go inside to get something to drink, someone calls for you. Your head hangs and you groan. You’re in no mood to deal with any of them right now. Why must they insist on bothering you again?

Looking to where the voice came from, you see Sanji pulling himself across the sand with one hand while holding a coconut in the other. Admittedly, you’re impressed at how well he’s able to do that. As he pulls himself closer, you see that the coconut is open on the top. 

“I’ve been looking for you! I made everyone some drinks and wanted to give you one too!” Sanji thrust the coconut towards you and watched expectantly.

Setting down your basket, you hesitantly eye up the drink. It looks like a mixture of various fruit juices mixed together in the coconut. Normally, you would never even consider taking anything from these people, and have turned down food from them on multiple occasions.

Right now, though? That looked like the most refreshing thing in the world and your throat was screaming for something to drink. It couldn’t hurt to accept it just this one time, right? What’s the worst that can happen?

Reaching out, you take it from Sanji’s hand, “Thank you, this looks really good.”

Sanji beams at you while you take your first sip. It’s delicious, and the one sip turns into you gulping down the rest of it in a matter of seconds. The tropical fruity drink felt like heaven going down your parched throat. 

Sanji is still laying in the sand by your feet. His chin is propped up on his hands and he’s smiling at you while his long tail swishes behind him. Oh, he must be waiting to hear your opinion on it. It would be rude to ignore him after accepting the offering. “That was really good, thanks for that,” you answered simply.

“Do you want more? I made plenty! If you come with me to the shore I’ll refill it for you,” his hopeful smile almost made you cave, but no. You couldn’t give them an inch because you know they’ll take a mile if you do.

“That’s alright, I’ve got to get some things done around the house. Thanks, though,” you tried your best to let him down gently. 

Instantly, his whole demeanor drooped, but he didn’t move to leave. Maybe he was hoping to make you sway if he looked at you with his kicked puppy face long enough. Guess that means you’ll have to leave first. Fine by you.

You spin on your heel to do just that, but stumble. That’s weird. All you did was turn around but you’re so dizzy that you’d think that you just spun in circles for a minute straight. Your vision started to blur as a horrifying realization dawned on you. 

He drugged your drink, and you fell for it hook, line, and sinker. 

In a last ditch effort to get away, you attempt to get into your home and lock the door. This amounts to nothing because you collapse after the first step. Your fingers dig into the sand uselessly, your arms didn’t have the strength to pull you forward. You weren’t even that far from the door, it was just barely out of reach. What a cruel joke.

Vaguely, you can hear motion behind you and feel someone pulling on your ankle. You can make out several voices, but your mind is too hazy to put any names to them. Boisterous laughter is the last thing you hear before everything fades to black.

Apparently, this was the worst thing that could happen.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #yandere one piece #monkey d luffy #sanji #black leg sanji #franky the cyborg #cyborg franky #nico robin #tony tony chopper #one piece nami #cat burglar nami #nami #luffy #platonic yandere #yandere #emtynessinmyworld #merfolk au

[the-fiction-witch]

The Event

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Smut

I stood as I frequently did, in the corner of the impressive room doing my best to be a lady observing my etiquette rules while remaining a wallflower not desiring anyone's attention. I avoided people as if they harboured an epidemic, I dodged everyone's gazes in the hope they would reciprocate such a gesture and avoid my own in turn. But people scrutinised me, my hair, my dress, my nails, all of which would be deemed unbecoming of a lady such as myself but I despised everything about how I dressed tonight, and wanted nothing more than to be back in my grungy overalls. I noticed often glares and gossip among themselves at my expense, I loathed being any type of subject and a subject of hypothesis was the worst thing to me. With a look, a smile, and a wrong-placed word everyone commences to make assumptions about you. 

They all knew I was getting too old to be unmarried, but I had little intention to do so, I disliked marriage even as a concept, but I knew the talk my dislike would stir in the general people of Port Victory, 

I disregarded such whispers and sipped my drink, my one prize for attending this mess, but I heard a voice which caused me to roll my eyes and my very soul hurt, if it had been socially acceptable and not caused a scene chitchatted over the bridge tables for the next year, I would have tossed my crystal glass and its contents into the face that homed that voice maybe the glass makes its way into his skin, I’d like to see him smirk and sweet talk himself out of that one, 

"Good evening Miss Y/l/n" He flirtatiously smiled as he joined my wall, 

"Good evening Dr Dawkins" I Glared darting for a path to try to escape this exchange,

"Another drink?"

"No thank you,"

“Aww, why not?”

“I don’t trust you.” I snapped,

“You trust anyone here?”

“...No,”

“Then I’m the most trustworthy here,” he winked, 

“By a thin grace Doctor,” I answered, 

“Fair enough” He chuckled, "Anyway, do exonerate myself for that of my so bolt words miss Y/l/n, despite that It has reached my engagement of yourselves contemporary negligence to chaperone, accompany let alone arrive to particular occurrences well documented on the social calendar.”

I grimaced at him, “You proud of yourself?”

“I admit a little.” He expressed with a cocky smile, “Took me bloody hours to remember that lot.” 

“Well, Pray tell, myself potentially desire yourself to maintain determined memorised vocabulary and phrasing, of aforesaid salutations and deteriorations, succeeding pleasantries of the day, as it rightly is the appropriate, reasonable and accurate manner in which we as guests and courtesies conveyed to articulate the manner of our specialities,” I smirked back, 

He looked at me like I’d just spoken Aramaic to him, “I ain’t that good.” He laughed as he sipped his drink. “There a translation of all that?”

“You best get good. It’s how we're meant to talk to each other.”

“Meant to doesn’t mean we have to.” 

“You wish to supply chatter to the masses?”

“I couldn’t give a toss,” he said, 

"Silence is the prevention of all talk, Dr Dawkins" I told him, 

"Indeed it is, seldom seen in this day" he laughed, “However, whether we talk or not even just me being stood here is enough to draw talk.”

“You’re correct. So you should go.”

“I think I’ll stay.”

“Why?”

“Give their boring arse’s something to talk about tonight after dinner.”

“I suppose,”

“Accept that we are talked about you and I both, we are both watched like hawks don’t you think bells toll when they see us together.” 

“It’s the sort of bells that worry me.”

“As do they worry me.” he said softly he took my hand and kissed it, “But I don’t want that to stop me from talking to a pretty girl like you y/n.”

“That’s sweet Jack, but I do not want to fuel talk,” 

"I understand, unmarried girl in conversation with an unmarried man. Unchaperoned, unwatched, alone in a quiet corner, Humm… they’d be rife with theories about us," he smirked,

"Precisely," I nodded, “And such theories are unwanted.”

“But not preventable Y/n.”

“Shouldn’t you be busy Jack?” I asked changing the subject, 

“Busy?”

“An Unmarried man such as yourself, attending such an event full of eligible ladies.”

“Eligible ladies? Oh, leave of it y/n.”

“I won’t, you know how they speak of you.”

“Humm Call me a siron, mutton monger…”

“The Bachelor confirmed a thousand times over.”

“Say’s the spinster,” he smirked, 

“So? Should one not be at least attempting to be seen as changing it? To be at least faking that you are talking to pretty young things?”

"I am,"

"You need a new wife Jack. They’ll talk forever if you don’t" I told him, “You don’t want them to call you a Bachelor forever do you?”

“I don’t know, I rather like it.” He said, “Then shouldn’t you be doing the rounds? Trying to trap yourself in a husband to make them stop calling you a spinster?”

“I rather like it, a certain pride in… remaining free and uncaptured so long.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, I feel that way too.” He nodded, 

“But… don’t you long for some pretty girl to warm your bed?”

“I have no issues in that regard, and we both know it.” He smirked his hand slipping behind my dress to move close and pinch my ass,

“Jack!” I whispered, 

“And I know you don’t have any… longing need for some pretty boy to warm your bed.”

“I do not know what you are referring to.” I answered playfully, 

“No?” he smirked moving closer to whisper, “Then I beseech you to articulate, whomsoever’s a faultless, flawless, adorable, precious, titillating, salacious, alluring, seductive, salacious, curved ass” He whispered spanking my ass with each adjective that left his lips, “That ensured did myself observe so elegantly, gracefully and exquisitely clambering herself to escape my bed at daylight?” 

“Perhaps one of our pretty girls,” I smirked back trying not to give myself away,

“So you're telling me I lift this dress? I won’t see the red sore cheeks, the bruising nail marks, the tender bite I left on… that girl, last night?” 

“Well, a man could never lift a lady's dress in such a public social event,” I said, 

“Yeah? Try me beautiful,” he smirked, his hand as sneakily as possible finding its way under my dress and he immediately stroked my ass, “Humm, right where I left you.” He smirked running his fingers across his bite mark from last night, even if I had to hide my excitement and my pain as his hand back on my red raw skin. “You wanna be prim and proper you go ahead Y/n, I have something to entertain me.” He smirked his hand giving my ass a firm spank before moving down between my legs, he stroked his fingers across my labia gathering wetness on his fingers, I shot him a glare but he merely smirked back at me, as his index and a middle finger found there way inside me, I gasped but did my best to hide my blushing face, looking across this high social event knowing the sort of trouble we’d be in if anyone saw us like this. The etiquette rules don’t even allow hand-holding and kissing in public let alone him shoving his fingers inside me. And I know him well enough to know this would not be the end of it, and he’d have me bent over the bar table if he could just to make a point. But he was merciless with me not helped by the smirk on his face only growing the longer this went on amused by my flustered reaction and attempts to keep up appearances. 

“Uhhh Jack-” I gasped, unable to hold back,

“Humm… think how it would fuel talk Y/n. I can hear it now, young ladies talking over bridge tables of the latest social event, discussing us. Asking one another if they too saw the devilish sight in a dark consorted corner of the party.” He growled in my ear close enough I could feel his breath, “How the charming captivating, ravishing, exquisite, Spinster Miss Y/l/n was attended panting and lamenting in the epicentre of the event, how all those in attendance at the event bore witness to her gagging the name of the bachelor doctor Dawkins, as his appendages where caught inside her most intimate place, pleasuring her, and satisfying her, so considerably that she commenced to trickle down her legs form a puddle on the newly waxed floor.” 

“I do hope you mean your fingers Jack.”

“We both know I don’t.” He growled kissing my jaw, “Now, either stand in front of me, bend over and be a good quiet little girl or let’s get out of here and I’ll raw dog you in the carriage instead?”

I forced his hand away quickly before I made more noise, “Carriage. Five minutes.” I demanded, going to fetch my coat. 

#tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #thomasbrodiesangster #tbs smut #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster #thomas brodie sangster smut #tbs #jackdawkins #jack #jack dawkins #theartfuldogger #thearttfuldodger #the artful dodger

[libraryraccoon]

Leaving NRC hc

Okay, so, we all know that Yuu/MC have to fight, like, one time by month against Overblot of people.

And you can't tell me this haven't traumatized him.

And what if the MC is tired of that ? Overblot ? Being traumatized ? Crowley ? What if he leave ?

This is how i think Ace, Deuce, and Riddle will react if the MC leave without a word.

!!Male reader, he/him pronouns are used, headcanon, MC is Grim father figure (like in the canon)!!

MC was tired.

Not the "i'm tired, I need to sleep." But the "I'm tired I need to die."

He had traveled to another world, a world unknown to him. And no one told him what this world was, what it was like, he had to learn everything with the hard way.

And he hate this.

Hate that they didn't see that he's hurt.

Hate that he look his best even when he's not.

He hate that they all make attention at what he look like and not how he is mentally.

Hate having to live the overblot, only for some little problems.

They were traumatized, okay, but was it really a reason for traumatized him back ?!

Fuck ! He had all the reasons to overblot, to have a revenge, but he don't do it !

Twisted Wonderland was one of the worst thing that had happen to him.

Nobody give a fuck about what he live. And Crowley don't try to make him back home.

He was just tired.

Sometimes, MC was thinking about just.. leave.

Leave that place, or even leave that live. Not by killing himself, well, not always, but by making a new identity.

If Crowley don't help to find a way for his home, then MC will have to do his research.

And like that, MC and Grim (MC didn't want to abandon his child, he's a good father) had leave NRC without saying a word to anyone.

🂱𝔸𝕔𝕖 𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕝𝕒🂱

•What ? You just disapear without a word ?!

•He thought you were kidnapped until the black mirror said no, you just decided to leave.

•He tried to find out where the black mirror had sent you, but the black mirror didn't respond. He threatened to break it but it came to nothing.

•He's in the denial.

•Every morning, he go to Ramshakle, wishing to see you in here, but nothing. It's the same in class.

•He would try to find you, but he don't find you, so after he cry for the rest of the night.

•He become more silent and stop smiling.

•Riddle stop screaming at him, and stop with the "Off your head".

•Trey try to make him feel better, but it don't work.

•He's always angry when people say things like "I'm sure MC is dead" and when he saw Crowley.

•He had slap Crowley one day, two days after you left (you can't tell me otherwise).

•Grim and you left, leaving a hole in his heart.

☃︎𝔻𝕖𝕦𝕔𝕖 𝕊𝕡𝕒𝕕𝕖☃︎

•You left him ?

•No, he's dreaming, it's a nightmare, it's not possible.

•Denial #2

•He pray every night that you will come back.

•He hope to see you two in class a morning, and saying "All of that was a prank ! Got you !"

•Grim also left, and he was sad to see two of his friends leaving him without a word.

•Wasn't he good enough ?

•Tell him what's wrong with him, he would change it !

•He would do all if it mean you and Grim will come back.

•Even killing himself.

𖣔ℝ𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕝𝕖 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤𖣔

•Why ?

•He only want go know why.

•He know he wasn't a good person when you first meet, he know it.

•An Overblot wasn't the best thing for a meeting.

•But, you say it was okay ! You forgive him ! You even became friend with him after ! Was it all a lie ? Were you friend with him cause you were scare of what would happen if you say no ?

•Oh no ! Riddle is blaming himself now.

•He stay in his room, he don't want to leave it and hurt someone else.

•He stop all the "Off your head !"

•His dorm, especially Trey and Cater, are worry for him.

•His dorm search you, they want they're strict dorm leader, not the sad one !

Okay, It was short, but I it was a try.

#twisted wonderland #Twisted Wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst x male reader #Twisted Wonderland x male reader #riddle x male reader #ace x male reader #Deuce x male reader #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola x male reader #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade x male reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #Riddle x male reader

[thewulf]

I Miss You || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Summary: Request - I need a Bradley or Jake imagine, your choice! But maybe it’s their anniversary and Bradley/Jake forgot and reader has been feeling kind of off to the side lately cause when Bradley/Jake is not at work they go to the hard deck... Read Rest Here

A/N: My favorite, a good old angst to fluffy hurt/comfort. Hope you guys enjoy this sweet Bradley fic!

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Y/N

Word Count: 2.1k +

He hadn’t said anything the entire week, you promised yourself you wouldn’t bring it up. This Thursday was your three-year anniversary with Bradley. You’d been through it all with him. The ups, the downs, the insane missions, the best and worst of it all. Bradley was your person. He saw you for everything that you were so surely. He loved you for everything you were and made up for where you weren’t. For all the bad that happened to be there, he took it for you. He was a true partner to you. He was your person. You were his, or so you thought.

So, when he’d gone out to the Hard Deck after another long day with the guys that Thursday after you asked where he was, your heart broke just a little. Had he really forgotten? He’d always been so excited in the past. He’d made sure to plan something. You were sure you never even had to bring it up first. But here you were, timid as hell. Almost afraid to upset him.

Sorry hon. Long day, at the Hard Deck. I’ll pick up dinner?

He’d texted you. You sat down at the kitchen table staring at the text. He’d officially forgotten. Praying he was just trying to surprise you, but it slowly sunk in that it wasn’t the case. You’d gotten ready for no reason. It was just another Thursday night for him.

Yeah sure. Have fun hon. See you when you get home.

Bradley was and always would be your person. But it felt like you were slowly losing him. He was hanging out with the guys more than ever. You knew he was stressed, some insane mission he was assigned. You just wished he’d talk to you about it too. Even if you couldn’t understand it you wanted to be there for him. Be his comfort. You prayed for the days of when he used to come to you, when you got to hold him all night.

But it was different now. He was back at Top Gun. Those missions were highly classified. He didn’t even know where they were going until they night before they deployed. He couldn’t talk to you about it. He’d turned to the guys this time. Not to you.

When it really hit you that he wasn’t surprising you, he’d really forgotten, you’d decided to go to bed. You left the wrapped gift, note and wine on the counter. You had to remind him somehow. It wouldn’t be fair to let him forget completely. Chalking it up to being distracted at work you took your time getting unready. A long bath and hair wash calmed your racing heart. You were terrified you were going to lose him. He didn’t need you anymore. The thought of that made your heart ache.

Not up for much else you decided to just put on a television show and shut the world out. Sleep came quickly hoping you’d just sleep until he was gone in the morning. You weren’t sure if you could take the apologies when he realized.

Bradley was overwhelmed, stressed beyond measure. He never thought he’d be the person to forget an anniversary with his favorite person ever. But when he spotted the present on the counter he knew he fucked up. Realization came over him quickly when he read your sweet note. Your love letter to him. Words you hardly used out loud. You weren’t great with your affection but you sure as hell tried, for him.

He hadn’t even realized how withdrawn he’d become from you. Of course, he didn’t because you never complained. You always made sure his needs were met before your own. He knew it and felt that disgusting feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized how often he’d taken advantage of that.

He let an audible sigh out as he opened the box finding the watch he’d been wanting to buy for years right there in front of him. He knew he really fucked up. You were too kind for your own damn good. He’d been taking you for granted. Your kindness and all. He’d gotten so used to you he’d begun to take advantage of it.

He had to fix it and fast. He had a plan. A simple one. One he knew would work on you though. He would set it into motion first thing. He had to let you sleep though. When he saw you knocked out he knew he couldn’t wake you up. Quietly, he slipped into bed trying his hardest to leave you be, fighting off every urge he had not to snatch you up and drag you into his chest. He wanted to but he couldn’t. That’d be wrong and he knew it. He finally drifted off after what felt like hours knowing it’d be a rough sleep no matter what he did.

You weren’t sure if you were happy or a little bit sad when you saw Bradley’s roughed up pillow next to you without seeing him occupying the space next to you. He’d been home, that was for sure. So, he had to see the gift. He’d elected to let you sleep. He didn’t bother you.

Rolling over to check the phone you sighed seeing not a single message or note. You were going to let your head spiral until you heard a loud thud come from the kitchen and Bradley’s unmistakable grumble following the crash. You couldn’t help the small smile the graced your face when you realized he was home.

Racing out of bed and tiptoeing down the steps you made it to the kitchen quicker than you normally would. You watched as Bradley seemingly made breakfast in front of you. Watched as he moved hesitantly. He wasn’t used to doing this. It brought another smile to your face as you observed him out of his element. The usual cocky pilot had been so often humbled by the oven.

Deciding to break his concentration you finally spoke up, “What are you still doing here?” You asked referencing the time on the stove. Bradley was normally gone by 5:00 AM. He never was home to see the sun rise let alone cook a breakfast for two. It was approaching 8:00, he was late.

He spun around spotting you quickly. It looked as if every emotion ranging from the happiest he’s ever been to the most nervous you’d ever seen him, “Baby, I…” He paused brushing his bedhead out of his face, “I’m so sorry honey I… I don’t have an excuse. I don’t…” He stopped again trying to find the words he was looking for.

You walked over to him stopping just short, “Bradley,” You brushed the curls away from his manic eyes, “Are you alright?”

He laughed in relief. He should’ve known you’d be more concerned for him than mad at the situation because you were you. Far too kind for what he deserved, “I completely spaced on our anniversary and you’re asking if I’m okay?” He asked, confirming what his ears had heard.

You nodded, “It’s not like you. I’m a little worried Bradley. I just want to know that you’re okay. You’ve been so…” This time it was your turn to pause. It wasn’t easy for you to be open with him. You’d been trained all your life to please, please, please. It felt like you were just opening a can of worms instead by bringing up your issues. Talking about it instead of ignoring it was going against everything you knew. But you didn’t want to do that anymore. You wanted to grow with him. Being avoidant never worked out in the past and you really didn’t want to lose him. No, he was your person.

“So?” He took a step forward hesitantly placing a hand under your chin. Gently, he pulled your gaze back towards him.

“Distant lately.” You whispered almost afraid he’d get defensive, or mad. God, that’s the last thing you wanted to do right now. Fighting was your least favorite thing in a relationship, and you tried your best to avoid it at all costs.

His face dropped seeing your sallow look, “Oh baby.” He wrapped his arms around you pulling you into his chest. Naturally you wrapped your arms around his torso breathing his scent in as you hid your face away from him.

You let a tear slip out. Emotions bubbling over as they so often did, “I just missed you. I miss you so much Bradley.” Speaking into his chest you couldn’t bear looking up at him. It felt so damn good to get it out there for him to hear. He couldn’t fix the problem if he didn’t know there was one.

He gave you a big squeeze knowing how hard this was for you. His girl who only wanted to make him happy was opening up. He knew how badly he’d hurt you if you were talking to him about it.

After a few moments of silence, he decided to break it, “I’ve let my job become an excuse. I didn’t want to take the stress out on you and let it spiral out of control.” He stopped, looked down at you, brushed the tears off your cheek and held you close once more, “Coming home last night was a wake-up call. Please, love, know how much I need you. How much I love you. I can’t imagine my life without you. I’m so sorry.”

You took a deep breath making sure to breathe in his scent as deeply as you could before looking up at him. His eyes told you just how damn sorry he actually was. You could never stay mad at him either, not after those pretty brown eyes were pleading at you like that, “It’s okay Bradley.”

He shook his head, “it’s not okay honey. I messed up. I’ll never do that again.”

“I know you’re stressed…” You tried excusing you but he wasn’t having it.

He stopped you by placing a finger over your mouth, “Please, let me make it up to you?”

Your smile could’ve lit up an entire room. This was the Bradley that had vanished not too long ago. He was just going through a rough patch. He just needed to be reminded, “Alright.”

“Okay.” He grinned, leaned down and gave you a soft kiss. A kiss gentler than he’d normally give you.  “I’m taking the day off. How does the morning at the beach, followed by a lunch made by me. A quick nap. A long shower. And a really nice dinner down at that restaurant you love so much sound?” He suggested knowing he just wanted to spend the day with you even if you didn’t want to do a damn thing. He just wanted to make you happy. Cherish you in any way that he could. He knew you were far too good for him. He knew he needed to show you just how much he really did mean to you.

You grinned in utter glee. He knew you through and through. That was quite literally your favorite day he’d just proposed to you, not a single thing you’d dare to change. God you really couldn’t wait to marry that man, all he had to do was ask now.

“That sounds perfect Bradley.” Nodding your head your wrapped your arms around him once more giving him a squeeze this time letting him know just how happy you were. He’d listened and reacted. He was just struggling and needed to be pulled out of the deep end. That’s what you were for and thank goodness you did. Your Bradley was back and holding you just as tightly as you were holding him.

“Yeah?” he asked just to make sure. He didn’t want to force you into anything you didn’t really want to do just because he’d suggested it.

You nodded looking up to him, “Yeah. Quite literally, perfect.” Giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, you nuzzled your face into his neck letting him hold you. Letting out a sigh in relief Bradley picked you up and held you in his arms.

“I love you.” He whispered softly in your ear, rocking you back and forth.

That dopey smile Bradley brought out came to your face. You’d truly never been happier with him. He was it for you, “And I love you Bradley.” You mumbled in his neck unafraid to fall asleep as he gently rocked you and hummed softly in your ear. This was what life was made for, this right here.

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