#she enters it in shows and somehow it wins

[stevesbipanic]

The Harrington's have a dog but it's one of those smaller ones you can put in a purse. Mrs Harrington often tells it he's her favourite son.

#poor steve #i can just pucture mrs Harrington with a dog #but like the fugliest dog u can think off #she enters it in shows and somehow it wins #stranger things #steve harrington #headcanon

[kentocidal]

lucky winner

users: piercer!bakugou x afab!fem!reader x tattoo artist!kirishima

internal warnings: descriptions of needles/tattoos/piercings as they occur, long fic, wow there's plot in this!, consensual threeway, established krbk, oral (m and f!receiving), piv, spit, size kink, light dacryphilia, spitroasting, inaccurate positioning, ask to tag

internal notes: three way won the poll so i went ham. my fault og. final word count somehow came to 5.2k ish.

new notifications: @kaedescara

you stared blankly at the notification on your phone, wide-eyed and jaw agape. you blinked slowly, rubbed a hand down your face, and then clicked your phone off and back on again. the screen lit back up to your screensaver and the single notification that sat covering it. ‘@sincitytattoojp tagged you in their story! check it out!’

you looked up from your phone to your friend, who you now realized was calling your name and snapping her fingers. “uh, hello? earth to y/n? what’s going on? did your ex message you or something?”

“i think i won something.” you mumbled, turning your phone to show your friend. she furrowed her brows together and took your phone from your hand, studying the notification before cracking a grin. 

“is this that tattoo parlor in tokyo that you keep talking about hypothetically going to?” she laughed as she punched in your passcode and opened up instagram, pressing on the icon to the parlor’s instagram story.

you were quick to snatch your phone back to watch the story yourself, raising the volume on your phone to hear it. it was a video of someone’s hand reaching into a very full fishbowl of printed instagram handles, pulling out a tiny piece of paper and unfolding it to reveal your instagram username. the caption read in big red lettering, “congrats to @[y/n] for winning the human canvas raffle. reply to this post by midnight to schedule your slot.”

you swallowed thickly and looked up at your friend. “i won the fucking raffle. i won the nine hour session.”

your friend sucked in a breath before laughing and lifting her glass to you. “godspeed, soldier.”

you looked back down at your phone and clicked back to rewatch your name be pulled from the bowl. you had entered the contest on a whim – you hadn’t expected to win. you had reposted the parlor’s picture and tagged your three closest friends to enter a bid into becoming a human canvas for a day, i.e. getting tattooed and pierced until you tapped out. the parlor owners couldn’t seem to decide on whether to call it the human canvas contest or the no mercy challenge, not that it mattered. both fit the bill to describe what you had just won.

you swiped up on the story.

you: i dont know whether to be terrified or excited.

@sincitytattoojp: both, sweetheart. sign this and get it back to us [1 attachment]

you had gone through an extensive back and forth that night, printing and signing and scanning different waivers and papers to ensure that you would be able to handle an entire day of sitting in a chair getting poked and prodded with needles and getting art permanently printed on your skin forever. you were grateful that they took so much precaution in ensuring you were well aware of the situation you were putting yourself in, and getting ample consent confirmed ahead of time. you already felt comfortable as you stepped off the train in tokyo and started towards the shop.

sin city tattoo and body art. the small tattoo shop had garnered a massive following around the globe for the gorgeous work that consistently poured from the studio. the artists had never shown their faces on their page, but it was clearly just a two man show. sometimes one of them would film the other doing their newest piece on a client they handpicked from the waiting list, and it was clear that the two were a little more than close friends. 

you trusted their work. you were a new client, obviously, but after following their page for over a year, you knew you would be okay with going through with this. you were just… inexperienced. you had a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on your ankle and your ears double pierced in the lobes, but that was it.

you rounded the corner and saw the neon sign over the glass doors to the shop, the shutters pulled down. you took a deep breath and tried the door, mildly surprised that it opened up. a tiny bell chimed over your head as you stepped inside.

the shop was small, but it was clean. absolutely pristine. for a tattoo shop called sin city, you were expecting a bit more of a grunge theme, not exactly the creamy white walls littered with black picture frames of flash art available for purchase, a tall cabinet filled with various jewelry for fresh piercings, plants in the corners surrounding two chairs that were supposedly for a waiting area. there was a tall partition behind the front desk, and the shop stretched backward, most likely leading to a tattoo chair and then a piercing table, respectively. 

you stood awkwardly by the front door, gripping your bag in front of you. you had brought a few little snacks and some water in preparation for being there all day. you shuffled your feet as you heard footsteps coming up from the back of the shop, and suddenly you were reconsidering your outfit choice. you had tried to be helpful by going with a tight spaghetti strap tank top and a high riding skirt, knowing that you would probably need to shuffle clothes around during the course of the day.

your thoughts got clogged almost immediately when a brick wall of a man rounded the partition, scratching the back of his neck and staring down at you with big red eyes that looked curious, almost playful. he had to have been at least six-five, looming over you with broad shoulders and bulky arms that were covered in tattoos that went all the way down to his knuckles. his red hair was tied half-up half-down, the black roots at his forehead showing through.

you gaped at him like a fish out of water, face starting to feel warm as he glanced you up and down, and then smiled, revealing a wide set of sharp sharklike teeth. “aye, kats! i think she’s here!” he called over his shoulder before stepping behind the front desk. “you’re our pretty contest winner, right?”

“uh-”

“my name’s eijirou kirishima. i’m the main tattoo guy here.” he grinned at you, boyish and peppy, and it stifled your nerves somewhat as you returned the smile, but you were flustered beyond belief. you had seen the videos of him tattooing, you knew at least that his hands were big, but not the rest of him.

“ah, yeah, hi. i’m y/n. it’s nice to see your fsce for once.” you giggled nervously, and he laughed and nodded.

“yeah, we’re not all about showing who we are online. the page got too big, tokyo’s a big place, we don’t want the extra attention, yknow?” he smiled warmly at you as he bent down and shuffled through some paperwork under the desk, pulling it out and gesturing for you to come closer. “i know we already got a lot of your stuff online, but this is the last waiver. pretty much a final agreement that we get to do whatever we want to your body until you either tap out, or the clock hits six, whichever comes first.” 

you made a little squeaking noise at his phrasing, glancing at his face as he just continued to smile. he fumbled around for a pen and held it out to you, and you reached to take it, but he snatched it back and leaned across the desk. “just so you know, you can say stop at any time. we’re not forcing you to be here. if you say no to an idea, we won’t do it. stuff like that. okay?”

you blinked at him. he seemed so genuine, really making sure he was thorough in his explanations of the paperwork and of your position in this. it helped you take a deep breath and nod. “i know. i’m all good.”

“awesome. you seem like a real trooper.” he chuckled in a deep, rumbly voice, and finally held the pen back out to you. 

you took it, your soft fingers brushing over his rough skin and making you feel like your hand was alight in flames. you signed your name at the bottom of the form, dated it, and slid it back across the desk to kirishima. he just grinned at you and shoved the paper into the desk again.

“bakugou! come on, man! she’s all good!” kirishima leaned his head around the partition, and you jumped slightly when the familiar voice of kirishima’s partner sounded from the back of the shop.

“i fucking heard you the first time, i’m not fucking deaf!”

“well, just hurry up!” kirishima laughed and turned back to you. “sorry, he’s a real stickler for making sure his spot is all clean. i’m clean, but he’s a neat freak.”

“who’re you calling a neat freak, red?” a slightly shorter man stepped out from down the hallway, and again you felt your breath catch in your throat.

he was still tall, but far more intimidating in his black wife beater and jeans. he took off his mask that had been covering the lower half of his face, revealing a nose piercing and snake bites around plush lips. his fluffy blonde hair was standing up in all the right places, piercing red eyes looking your form up and down as he cracked his knuckles. his arms were littered patchwork-style, much different than kirishima’s full sleeves, and he clearly liked to hit the gym seven days a week.

you gulped and shifted your weight as bakugou’s eyes drifted over you. “name’s katsuki bakugou. you’ve already met red. didya sign the form?”

“uh, yes. all of the forms.”

“great.” his eyes locked on yours. clearly, this guy was all about professionalism and business, at least while he was on the clock. then he turned his head to kirishima. “so, where did you want to start her?”

you found yourself laid down on your chest, head turned to the side to stare at bakugou’s back as he organized something off to the side. music was playing, but you could hardly hear it over the buzzing of the tattoo gun and the weight of kirishima’s hand on your back.

you chewed on your lip as you felt the needle trace over the skin of your lower back, occasionally lifting to get more ink, only to return and start the ministrations over again. it wasn’t an easy spot to get ink done; tramp stamps were adorable and sexy, but the skin on that part of a person’s back is notoriously thin. despite this, however, you always found the pain to be… enjoyable. 

you felt kirishima’s free hand slide over to the middle of your back, splaying out, applying some pressure to get a better angle as he leaned over you. if he wasn’t wearing a mask, you would be able to feel his warm breaths fanning out against your sensitive skin. your eyes fluttered and you did your best not to move as your neurons fired over the sheer size of his hand against your back. splayed out like that, his fingertips were on one side and the heel of his hand almost felt like it was on the other. perhaps your perception was being warped on account of the buzzing needle poking your back, but you couldn’t be entirely sure.

kirishima added more pressure even as the needle lifted away from your skin, pushing you down into the bed, making you squeak softly. bakugou’s head turned briefly to you, glinting in the white overhead lighting almost devilishly, before turning away again.

“so,” kirishima’s low voice made you flinch slightly, having been entranced by the weight of him looming over your form, “i don’t really see any ink on you. is this your first time?” you heard him chuckle into his mask as he waited for you to relax again, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down, before pressing the needle down again. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, hun.”

you felt like some kind of high schooler talking about her virginity. “it’s- it’s fine. no, it’s not my first, but it’s my first big one. i’ve got a little one on my ankle.”

“your ankle?” he repeated, still pressing the needle to your skin and definitely coloring a shape in. “who did that for you? wasn’t us.”

“right, yeah.” you giggled slightly, really trying not to move as you wiggled the foot that held the little tattoo. “just an old friend who was an apprentice somewhere else.”

“ankle’s a rough place for a first tattoo,” grumbled bakugou, finally turning towards you and sitting down in a chair a little ways away, manspreading in your peripheral. “how’d you sit for that?”

“it hurt, but i liked it.” you mumbled back honestly, glancing back when you felt kirishima put the tattoo gun down and reach with a gloved hand towards your ankle, bending your leg at the knee to study the work.

“hm. it’s real cute on you, but i would’ve done it a little different.” his thumb brushed over the tattoo, over the thin skin of your ankle, sending a spike of heat through your body. “i could touch it up later.” he guided your leg back down and brushed his hand over the back of your thigh briefly before picking his tattoo gun back up and reapplying that heavy pressure to your back again.

“yeah, okay…” you murmured breathily, feeling small underneath kirishima’s weight and the power of bakugou’s gaze where he was staring at you, at kirishima, at how kirishima’s hands left indents in your skin as he worked.

your mouth felt like it was full of cotton, your head feeling like all the blood had drained from it and gone south. you shouldn’t be thinking like this, feeling like this, not while effectively getting stabbed thousands of times per minute.

bakugou hummed as he stood up again to get within your line of sight. “you said you liked the pain, huh? you one of those weird people that gets a high off of getting ink done?”

you felt your face burst with heat, unable to move as you opened your mouth and stammered. kirishima chuckled behind his mask.

“don’t tease, kats.”

“‘m not teasin’. i was just sayin’ that i agree with her.” bakugou smirked at you before stepping around the wall to go get a water from the fridge.

kirishima’s free hand slid from your middle back to just above your ass, his thumb rubbing into the fabric of your tight skirt as he worked.

“you’re sitting really well for this, doll. ‘m proud. probably one of my favorite things to do is back tattoos. especially these.”

you hummed softly in the back of your throat, probably mumbling a thank you that just made him laugh again.

you didn’t say anything when his free hand squeezed your ass as he leaned back to get more ink in the gun.

kirishima had spread the second skin across your pretty new tramp stamp with precision, making sure it wouldn’t wrinkle or peel away until your tattoo was healed. you were given a snack of chips and a bottle of water to recuperate while bakugou prepped his area, pulling on a mask and snapping black latex gloves over his hands. “so, how ya feelin’?”

“good,” you took a breath as you capped your water, sitting quietly on the tattoo bench and waiting to move to the piercing table. “ready to move on, i guess.”

“hope you don’t mind, but i took some photos when red was doing you.” he glanced over his shoulder, and you smiled and waved it off.

“i don’t mind at all. my friend didn’t believe me when i said i was actually gonna come.”

“that so?” bakugou cocked a brow, his mouth hidden behind the black mask. “anyway, what’re you thinking for this next bit? industrial? nose?”

“ah.” you shifted on the bench, glancing away from him as kirishima rounded the corner. “i was, uh. i was thinking i could get my… i could get my nipples pierced first? get the worst ones out of the way?”

kirishima blinked once and immediately shot a look to bakugou, who made eye contact. it was like telepathy; there was a silent exchange between them before bakugou nodded and waved for you to step over. “sure, whatever. it’s definitely not the worst pain, though.”

“really?” you stood on jelly legs and walked over to the piercing bench, sitting down in front of bakugou, who pulled a chair over to sit.

“mhm. worst i would say for a girl is the clitoral hood.”

you flushed and shook your head. “no thanks. i think i’ll stick to this for now.”

“okay.” bakugou sat back in his chair, staring at you. you stared back, tilting your head. bakugou furrowed his brows and clicked his tongue, making an ‘up’ motion with two fingers. only then did it click that you needed to take your shirt off.

you looked around as you started to tug your tank top up, looking over at kirishima, who was leaning against the wall with fascination. “ah, sorry! if you really want, i can leave.”

“no! no, it’s fine.” you shook your head, and finally got the courage to lift your tank top up and over your head. in preparation for this, you had simply forgone your bra in the morning.

you were left in just your skirt and panties, essentially. kirishima hummed low in his throat, earning him a glare from bakugou. you felt like you were on fire when bakugou reached a hand out to your shoulder. “lay back. slow.”

you shuddered under his grasp and laid back on the table, bringing your feet up and bending your knees to be a little more comfortable. your nipples pebbled and hardened from the cold air of the parlor.

bakugou studied your tits with an intense gaze, clearly focused on his job in a way that kirishima was not. where kirishima was flirty, groping and grabbing, bakugou was cold and practiced.

“so this is gonna go something like this. one of these is gonna hurt more than the other. when i tell you, you gotta breathe in, and then breathe out all at once. it’ll make the pain a little easier to handle.”

“okay.”

“i’ll be quick, but we gotta do one at a time.” he grabbed a skin safe marker and finally his hands reached for one of your tits, rubbing his thumb into the skin as he marked where the needle would enter and exit. you felt like you were shaking, being grabbed and examined in such a professional manner.

“you can’t have any fuckin’ saliva or jizz or whatever touch these till they’re fully healed, you got that?”

you squeaked, almost jumping in surprise at his words, before laughing and shaking your head. “no worries there.”

“you sure?” bakugou tilted his head, eyebrow raised, and kirishima laughed as he walked over towards the bench.

you didn’t get a chance to answer bakugou, because kirishima was by your head, offering his massive hand to you. “you can squeeze my hand so you don’t pass out.”

you looked up at him through your lashes, squirming on the bench as bakugou squeezed your tit. you didn’t answer, just reaching your hand up to hold onto kirishima’s. his hand was large, warm, and so rough. you wanted to feel his-

“alright sugar. take a deep breath in for me.”

you sucked in a breath through your teeth, and then suddenly a white hot pain shot through your body, something never experienced before. your vision whited out and you may or may not have cried out and dug your nails into kiri’s hand, gripping it tightly.

your head swam as you were encouraged to breathe, and then to breathe in again as the wide bar was slipped through the new piercing. you yelped and jerked on the table, making bakugou put his gloved hand flat between your tits to try and ground you. “relax, brat. stay fucking still. gotta get this stupid ball on.”

“aw, she’s cryin’.” kiri chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. your cheeks did feel wet as the pain subsided slowly. you whimpered as bakugou leaned away from you and reached to grab another needle package and the second bar.

“one more, drama queen. you can do it. just one more.”

“already?” you whined, shaking your head at him as he scooted his chair closer to get a better angle on your other nipple.

you did not get a chance to beg for mercy. “breathe in deep, good fuckin’ girl.”

you screamed this time. bakugou had been right, one hurt more than the other. your head felt so light all of a sudden, your vision blurring as you gripped kirishima’s hand like a vice and shook. your breath punched out of you when the bar was pushed through and the little ball at the end was screwed on.

you stared up at the ceiling and tried to get your bearings as kirishima let go of your hand to pet your hair and keep it away from your tears. “you did it, pretty girl. you got it. just breathe. did such a great job, yeah?”

you gathered your thoughts together as you listened to bakugou get up and take his gloves and his mask off, tossing them away, ever the professional. he walked back over to where you were laying and held up a mirror over you to show you your new jewelry. the sight made the pain worth it; your nipples, perky and red and hard, glittering with bars pushed through.

“what do ya think?” bakugou cocked his head at you, and you let out a deep breath.

“they look… really nice.”

“really sexy, more like.” kirishima chuckled over you as he openly ogled your chest.

you made a noise of surprise, which was immediately followed by your voice getting caught in your throat when bakugou’s free hand moved to start rubbing up and down your thigh. “you okay?”

“y-yeah.”

“you need a break?”

“i think so.”

bakugou nodded and looked to kirishima, who broke into a grin and bent over you just a little, his voice dropping an octave. “let’s take a nice long break, then, huh doll? you think you might wanna relax a bit with us? take your mind off the pain?”

“what?” you shifted to sit up on your elbows, wincing from the pain in your chest, looking between them.

kirishima laughed, “come on, doll. i know you didn’t come in here wearing just that tiny skirt for nothin’.”

“you can say no.” bakugou’s hand moved off your thigh, clearly the more level headed of the two. “we’ll take a break and come back in a half hour to keep going-“

“wait.” you flushed and put up a hand to make him shut up, glancing between them. “you’re not- together?”

“well, yeah, fucking obviously we are,” bakugou rolled his eyes at you while kiri chuckled, “but if we see a hot chick, we’re not gonna say no.”

“true.” kiri was practically purring.

they were standing over you, broad shoulders and tattooed hands and muscle, red eyes honed in on your shirtless form, and for some reason you allowed your inhibitions to fall away.

you took a deep breath and pouted. “just don’t make me get an infection on my new piercings.”

“never.” bakugou cracked his first real grin, foxlike and dirty, already moving back down towards your legs to start pushing your knees apart. you sat up a bit more, onto your hands, sucking in a breath when the bench dipped under bakugou’s added weight as he pushed your knees far apart and revealed your plain cotton panties with an obvious wet spot in the crotch, your pussy throbbing with the realization.

bakugou hummed as he slid rough fingertips down the insides of your thighs. “look at that shit, red. she’s already soaked. got this pretty pussy all needy even after pokin’ her.”

“figured as much. she was all spaced out during her tat.” kiri’s meaty hand slipped around the column of your throat, practically engulfing it in one palm as he turned your head to make you look up at him.

you gasped, and kirishima’s mouth came crashing down onto yours; he had to practically crouch to get even close to you where you were sitting. your hands flew up to his hair, body twisting slightly as bakugou started to work his fingers along your hips to further push your skirt up around them.

you felt yourself start to whimper as bakugou pushed your panties to the side and slipped two fingers through your wet folds. you shook and moaned as his fingers skillfully rubbed slow circles into your clit, making your hips jerk.

kiri laughed against your lips and squeezed his hand slightly around the column of your throat, pulling away from your mouth to look at your dazed expression. “lay back, doll.”

he guided you back to lay on the bench again, letting go of your throat only for a moment to start unbuckling his belt. “kats, i’m takin’ her mouth first, mkay?”

“hm?” bakugou glanced up from where he was licking his lips, about to press his nose to your pussy. “oh, yeah sure whatever. i’m getting a taste first.”

“someone’s got an oral fixation.”

“shut the fuck up, you red-haired loser.”

you felt yourself start to giggle at their interactions, but suddenly there were lips wrapped tightly around your cliff and a fat cock hanging over your face, drooling with pre.

you swallowed as your mouth practically started to water. your head was spinning as bakugou worked his tongue against your clit, a finger starting to push its way into your right, wet heat. you moaned and felt your eyes flutter, fingers curling into the sides of the piercing bench. “ah, i-i don’t know if i can fit-“

“shh. all you gotta do is swallow. can you try just the tip?” kiri cocked his head at you, suddenly all puppy eyes as he stroked his cock to his boyfriend eating you out.

you whimpered and nodded. how could you say no? you ground your hips against bakugou’s face as your lips parted, and kirishima pushed just the fat head of his cock past them with a low groan.

you felt full. bakugou started to push a second finger into your weeping hole, drool and your juices dripping down his chin and dotting the bench as he ate you out and found the spongy spot within you that made your back arch off the bench, knees attempting and failing to snap shut around his head. bakugou growled against your pussy, unhappy with you disturbing his meal.

you couldn’t respond what with kirishima shallowly thrusting into your mouth, working inch after inch into you. you felt his heady tip hit the back of your throat as your head hung down over the edge of the bench, and you coughed and sputtered.

“shh, careful, careful. breathe.” his hand returned to your throat, feeling the way he slipped further and further in. his balls hung down in your face as he started to effectively fuck your throat, groaning when you whined around him.

you did your best to suck his cock, slobbering and drooling down your cheeks as your eyes rolled back when bakugou removed his mouth and rubbed circles into your clit with his thumb. “she tastes fuckin’ good.”

“yeah? y’think so?”

“yeah,” bakugou breathed out, almost like an offering, and as he pulled his fingers out of your wet pussy, he shoved them directly into kirishima’s mouth.

kiri groaned loudly and sucked on bakugou’s fingers with the eagerness of a dog, gripping your throat with one hand and bakugou’s wrist in the other. he made sure bakugou’s fingers were clean before letting go and rolling his hips against your face. “shit.”

“mhm.” bakugou was panting as he hurriedly fussed with his jeans, shoving them down enough to get his cock free. it was difficult, positioning himself on the bench, but he made it work as he slapped his tip against your clit.

you cried out and gagged again on kirishima’s fat cock, gurgling pathetically while they both laughed at you.

“poor babydoll,” bakugou hissed, pressing his tip to your entrance, “she can hardly breathe, eiji.”

“she’s doin’ a good fucking job. i can feel how deep i am in her throat.”

“i can fuckin’ see that.” bakugou snapped right back before taking a deep breath and sinking so slowly into your pussy.

your walls fluttered around his cock as he sheathed himself inside you, one hand gripping your hip dangerously tight and the other reaching to grab for kirishima’s free hand. “fuck, red, she feels so fucking tight.”

“if- if you think her pussy’s tight, wait till you feel her throat.” kiri panted lowly as he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand over you.

you felt like an object, a plaything, lightheaded and so, so full, almost screaming when they both started to fuck into you at once; they were slightly off pace, both focused on their own pleasure, chasing their highs and smothering you all the while.

kirishima’s hand slid from your throat to the middle of your chest, a compressing weight that left you truly breathless as his balls practically smacked into you. you did your best to try and suck his cock, really, you did, but it was so difficult when bakugou was bullying your pussy and making you shake and cry out.

kirishima was the first to falter, his hips starting to jerk erratically as your vision blurred from tears of pleasure. “oh fuck yeah, fuck, ‘m gonna cum-“

“already? pathetic.” bakugou snapped, only egging kirishima on and making him whine as he tossed his head back and came deep in your throat, making you gag and choke.

he didn’t pull out until the thick, heady ropes of his cum were seated on your tongue, taking a step back to let his fat cock slap wetly against his thigh. it was clear, then, that his refractory period was short; he was already at half mast again as he watched bakugou fuck you into the bench, hiking one of your legs up around his waist to get deeper.

you cried out loudly, voice ragged and ruined as bakugou’s thumb returned to your clit.

“come on pretty girl, lemme feel you cum around my fuckin’ cock first. come on. i know you’re close. i can feel ya squeezin’ me in. shit, baby, fucking cum for me.”

your back arched off the table and your eyes rolled back as you came hard around his cock, your vision going white as you jerked and spasmed on the table. bakugou moaned and dropped his head forward, holding on until the last second when he could pull out and cum all over your twitching cunt, jerking himself off all the way. thick ropes of cum splattered against your skin and made you shiver, all parts of you sensitive.

kirishima, cock still out and hard again, stepped over to swipe his fingers through your pussy and get a taste of yours and bakugou’s cum, groaning deep in his throat as he pressed an almost chaste kiss to bakugou’s cheek. “you wanna fuck her throat next?”

“fuck yes i do.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bakugou.txt #kirishima.txt #ask to tag.txt

[alexias-putellas]

girls like girls // o.batlle x reader

o.batlle x reader

not sure if this needs a warning. reader goes down the bi to lesbian pipeline basically.

-

you had started questioning your sexuality in high school, which wasn’t uncommon, but it was scary. but you settled with the label bisexual since that felt right.

you didn’t tell anyone though. you didn’t need to. your plan was to marry a man and start a life with him. coming out was never going to be necessary if you did that.

so you ignored the niggling feeling you got whenever your friends discussed the boys they fancied and when they asked you, you always said the boy that was considered the cutest. you never quite understood why you didn’t experience the butterflies like they did, or why actually thinking of a few future with a man made a pit settle in the bottom of your stomach.

you signed for manchester city when you were seventeen, it was your first senior contract and luckily, you knew esme and ellie from the lionesses youth camps. so you weren’t entirely alone.

but when they started bugging you about boys, you went along with whatever they said. you dated the boys they set you up with, even kissed a few but nothing ever lasted. you couldn’t really tell them why because you didn’t know yourself.

it never really crossed your mind that maybe you just didn’t like boys until a manchester derby.

city had beaten united by a single goal and after the match, you felt someone jump on your back. “ow, tooney, get off!”

the brunette laughed in your ear and you somehow managed to shrug her off, shoving her away from you.

“come with me.” ella said, grabbing your wrist and dragging you over to where alessia stood chatting with a new player to the derby.

ella introduced you to ona and you pretended to listen but the only thing you could focus on was the spaniard herself. from the tattoos on her arm to the pink flush on her freckled cheeks, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

ona might’ve been the prettiest girl you’d ever seen.

ignoring the sudden eruption of butterflies in your stomach, you cleared your throat and grinned. “oh it’s such a shame that you signed for the lesser manchester side.”

ella gasped, pulling you into a headlock as you laughed loudly. “take that back!”

“never! sky blue is better than red, tooney, it’s about time you admitted it to yourself!”

“are they always like this?” ona asked with a fond laugh as you wrestled ella to the floor.

“unfortunately, yes,” alessia sighed, shaking her head. “it never stops. not even off the pitch.”

ona would learn how true that statement was in the days after the match. she’d entered ella and millie’s apartment, finding you sat on the floor, xbox controller in your hands. the other one sat in ella’s grip, the tv showing the last minute of a fifa game, some of the united girls surrounding you both.

“take that, tooney!” you cheered, pointing to the screen. “what did i say the other day?! city for the win!”

ella scoffed, rolling her eyes and shoving her controller into leah’s waiting hands. “i let you win, mate.”

“sure, you did.”

alessia gave ona a knowing look as ella swiped your ankles from underneath you, everyone laughing as you landed in a heap on the floor.

you scowled and kicked ella’s knee, your blush deepening as you finally noticed ona’s presence.

it almost became a routine for you to crash a united girls night. you’d never admit it but you only did it on the off chance that ona might’ve shown up. eventually, you ended up being a constant presence, always around as per the request of ella and alessia.

you were out for dinner with the two girls one night, them occupying one side of the booth and you on the other. ella waved someone over and you turned, eyes widening as you spotted ona.

she slid into the seat next to you and you smiled at her, that familiar feeling settling in your stomach as she smiled back at you.

spending time with the spaniard one-on-one wasn’t unusual after that night and you forced your feelings down every single time.

having a growing crush on ona wasn’t a problem, in fact, it was something you were welcoming with open arms. the problem was the fact that nobody else had ever made you feel that way. and it terrified you.

everything you thought you knew about yourself was becoming a lie. all the boys you’d dated before were just something you wanted to forget, locking the memories away to never see the light of day again. they never made your knees weak or your skin tingle, your face never heated up when you were around them, you never felt attracted to any of them. and the realisation was killing you.

so when you got invited out after another manchester derby, you wanted to say no. but with leila and ella begging you relentlessly, you just couldn’t.

that’s how you found yourself sitting in a club a few hours later, nursing yet another drink you didn’t really want. alessia took your wrist in her hand and dragged you to the toilets, demanding you stay outside. you didn’t question why she didn’t want you inside but when a group of giggling girls stumbled out, you were kind of glad.

a drink was shoved into your hand and your eyebrows furrowed, looking in time to see alanna wave at you before disappearing into the crowd.

you were drinking it slowly until alessia re-emerged, taking your wrist again and pulling you onto the dancefloor. then ella was handing you a shot, shouting that you needed to loosen up and have fun. so you did.

after a few more drinks and many more shots, you were a free spirit on the dancefloor. all the worries flowed from your body as you danced with your friends. none of you having a care in the world.

you stumbled towards the bar, a pair of hands gripping your waist to hold you steady after someone knocked into you.

ona stood in front of you, the flush on her own cheeks a clear indication that you weren’t the only one ella was forcing to loosen up.

even in the flashing lights of the club, you could see her looking at your lips. without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around her neck, pushing your lips against hers feverishly.

you expected her to push you away so you were pleasantly surprised when she pulled you closer. your hand tangled in her hair and in that moment, you decided that you never wanted to kiss a man ever again.

kissing ona was magical. her lips were soft just like her hands and she tasted like tequila. the ache between your legs became apparent when she deepened the kiss, her tongue darting out to lick at your lips.

you pulled away then, the realisation of what was happening hitting you like a truck. your heart pounded as you shook your head, tears building in your eyes.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry, i can’t–“

you rushed out of the club without another word, not really sure if ona had heard your apology. you jumped into the nearest taxi, ignoring the buzzing of your phone in your handbag.

your city teammates could tell something was bothering you when you turned up for training two days later. you looked exhausted and it showed in how you played. your passes were sloppy and your concentration was barely there and it never seemed to improve. ignoring ona only seemed to make it worse but responding to her simply wasn’t an option.

chloe and bunny tried to show you their new celebration and you smiled slightly, telling them it was great before walking away from them. alex took her turn in trying to talk to you, as your friend and not your captain, but you waved her off too.

when you declined an invite to a team bonding night is when the worry really began to set in. it was esme that used the emergency spare key to get into your apartment. the place was spotless and looked untouched but she knew you were there.

you’d heard the front door shut but you didn’t wipe your tears quick enough. your bedroom door opened and esme stood there, a frown on her face as she looked at you.

“oh, babe,” she sighed, sitting next to you as you sniffled. “what’s up? you’ve been down all week but i didn’t want to say anything… you know you can tell me anything, right?”

you nodded slightly, fiddling with the tag of the blanket covering your body. “i really liked someone, es. and i majorly messed it up because i—i wasn’t ready for any of it.”

“i didn’t know you were dating.” esme said quietly and for a second, you felt guilty.

“no one did,” you told her. “i wasn’t really dating them anyway, we’re… friends.”

“anyway,” she shook her head, reaching out to play with the bracelet on your wrist. “if this guy doesn’t respect you enough to wait for you then he is not worth it, and he certainly does not deserve these tears.”

“it wasn’t—“ the words died in your throat, tears burning in your eyes as you nibbled on your lip. esme immediately grabbed your hand, giving it a squeeze. “it wasn’t a guy, es. it was a girl. i’m—i’m gay.”

you don’t know why you expected such a bad reaction from sweeter than sweet, human personification of sunshine and rainbows esme morgan, but you did. you waited for the shouting, the name calling, the storming out but none of it ever came.

the blonde leaned forward and pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back soothingly.

“thank you for telling me,” she whispered. “does anyone else know?”

“no,” you shook your head, pulling back so you could look at her. “you are the first and only.”

she squeezed your hand again. “i’m so proud of you.”

you tried your best to smile but the weight of the situation was heavy on your chest. you subsequently burst into tears, burying your face in your hands.

“i’m so scared, esme,” you sobbed as she continued to rub your back. “being like this is terrifying, my whole life is going to change, i don’t want it to change. i don’t–“

she shushed you softly, moving her hand to stroke your hair. you cried into her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her.

esme didn’t move back until you did, gently cradling your face and wiping your tears.

“you don’t have to be afraid. you’re not going through this alone, not anymore,” she said quietly. “i’m going to be here every step of the way. so will the other girls.”

you swallowed thickly. “i don’t think i want to tell them yet.”

“and that’s okay, it’s your choice,” she smiled softly. “but i do think you need to talk to the girl you were seeing, tell her everything you told me. if she’s worth your time and effort, she’ll understand. and if she doesn’t, let that be it with her.”

you opened your mouth to speak when the sound of your front door bursting open cut you off.

“right!” you heard ella shout, slamming the door shut with quiet pleads from alessia following. their footsteps grew louder as did their voices. “no, less! something happened. i don’t know what but i know something did and since ona won’t tell me, i’ll find out myself!”

“tooney!” alessia hissed once your bedroom had been swung open, the blonde motioning wildly to you and esme.

ella’s eyes widened as she took in the scene, shuffling uncomfortably on her feet. “oh, i interrupted something. sorry.”

“no, no, it’s okay,” you sighed, glancing quickly at esme. she nodded at you and you took a deep breath. “sit. i’ll tell you what happened.”

again, you didn’t know why you held such low expectations of your friends. but they both hugged you and as esme did, thanked you for telling them and saying that they were proud of you.

“so will you help?” you asked, looking between the three. “i really like ona and i have a lot of grovelling to do.”

“no, you don’t,” ella said and you furrowed your eyebrows. “she’s not mad at you, she’s not even upset. she’s worried about you.”

“really?”

“really,” ella nodded. “ona wouldn’t tell me what happened but she said that you ran off and wouldn’t answer her calls, and when hempo said that you looked like a train had hit you, i knew something had happened between you.”

“did you see us?” you asked quietly.

“nobody did. and if they did, nobody has said anything.” ella told you, esme nodded in agreement.

you breathed heavily and that’s when you noticed how guilty alessia looked. “less?”

“i saw you,” she whispered. “but i didn’t say anything to anyone, i promise. not even when tooney started her investigation.”

you laughed a little at that, placing your hand over hers. “it’s okay. thank you for not telling anyone.”

“right then!” ella clapped. “let’s get working on that plan because i, for one, miss you hanging around with us. even if you play for the lesser manchester side.”

“rude.”

ᡣ𐭩

you stood outside ona’s apartment, a bunch of flowers in one hand and a bag of her favourite takeout in the other.

taking a deep breath, you raised your fist and knocked. for a few seconds there was nothing and you were ready to punch tooney for lying to you until the door swung open.

much like the first time you’d laid eyes on ona, she took your breath away. she looked just as beautiful as she did the last time you saw her in the club.

“hi.” you breathed, shuffling on your feet.

“hi,” ona smiled softly. “come in.”

she stepped to the side and you stepped in, eyes flickering around the apartment. the door closed and you turned to face her.

“before we talk, can we eat? i’m starving,” your face heated up as she laughed. with a shaky hand, you held the flowers out to her. “and, um, these are you. i hope you like ‘em.”

she took them and you held your breath, feeling a little relief when you noticed the soft blush on her cheeks. “they are beautiful, thank you.”

she motioned for you to follow her and you did, watching in silence as she placed the flowers into a vase before gently taking the bag from your hand. you moved to help her plate the food, pretending not to notice her looking at you.

you didn’t really touch your food, the hunger you were feeling had vanished and you were left feeling sickly.

“i’m sorry.” you said quietly and very suddenly, staring down at your plate.

“for what?” ona asked softly and you breathed deeply.

“for everything,” you shrugged, sparing her a glance. “i owe you an explanation. i messed up and i need to fix it.”

when she stayed quiet, you realised that she was allowing you to do so and took another deep breath.

“it was wrong of me to run off and ignore you after the club but when we kissed, it confirmed something for me and i freaked out. we’ve never had the sexuality discussion so i don’t know what labels you’ve used but for a while, i thought i was bi, and in my mind, that meant that i would never have to come out. but then you happened. and you made me realise that i… never actually liked men. they’ve never made me feel the way you do.”

you took another breath after you’d finished, face flushing with the realisation that you’d accidentally confessed your feelings for the spaniard.

it was quiet and you spared ona a glance. her chin rested on her hand and the way she was looking at you made your heart flutter.

you studied her, much like you did on the pitch that day, letting your eyes flicker along her freckles and tattoos.

“you’re really pretty,” you murmured, giggling softly as she turned her head, attempting to hide the flush of pink on her face. “maybe we could start again. do it properly this time.”

she turned back. “are you asking me on a date?”

“yeah, i guess i am.” you nodded.

a smile spread across ona’s face. “are you going to run away again?”

you rolled your eyes playfully, knocking her knee with yours but smiling fondly.

“no. i have no reason to run now.”

#woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle imagine

[harfanfare]

Hey! I really love your "how to win the heart of." Can you do one for Vil? If not that's totally fine I'm just curious.

How to win the heart of Vil Schoenheit?

Be a fan.

You like to think that the oldest memory you can recall is how you became Vil’s fan.

Until then, the recitals your school took you on were boring. Only in fifth grade, the teachers realise that, hm, maybe ancient plays might be a bit too much for those little brains, and in a spark of determination to change something, your class was taken to watch a staged version of a fairy tale, played by youngsters for youngsters.

The memory of Vil, the villain of the story, entering the scene is much more vivid. Even as a child, he was inarguably elegant and strikingly beautiful, it left you agape and your curious heart beating loudly in your chest.

“It’s better than having a completely fictional crush,” your classmate said after you confessed how much endeared you were by Vil and his acting. You listened as you typed a password to a newly-created Magicam account, solely for following him there. “There is a chance that you and him will be together.”

“A big chance?”

“Uh, like this?” She tries to show how big your chance is with her fingers. She wants to leave a gap between her fingers, but ultimately, they touch, and she puts her hands down. “I mean, we are almost the same age, so maybe you can go to the same high school as him? In a very long future…”

“I am not delusional…”

Nonetheless, the thought did make you hope.

After you reached the age of sixteen, the invitation came. For a whole year — since you saw Vil’s post on his new college choice — you’ve been pondering whether you’ve possessed enough magic talent to get into Night Raven College, the school of chosen. In good dreams, the Magic Mirror deemed your soul to be solely fit for Pomefiore. In nightmares, you were doomed to… well, any other dorm, if you were a student at NRC at all.

And maybe dreams really come true because the future you’ve anticipating has turned into a reality.

“Alright, is everyone from Pomefiore here?” Your heart stops when you hear that wonderful voice, this time not from your phone nor from 100 meters away from the speakers. You turn around, and there he is, Vil Schoenheit in all his glory stands and guides the students to the hall of mirrors. He looks like a portrait, and even if you saw his face thousands of times, the glint in his eyes redeems you speechless. “Congratulations, everyone. We will hold the welcoming introductions at our dorm. Follow me!”

Yes, Vil Schoenheit is your idol. And in the first seconds of meeting him, you were ready to follow him to the end of the world.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2. Get rejected. Have your heart broken.

“I apologize,” Vil says slowly, and you notice how his voice is a little monotonous. Just a bit, as if he had repeated these words countless times like the lines before a recital. “And while I wholeheartedly appreciate your feelings, [Name], I want to focus on my studies and career. It’s a bad time for me to think about dating. Nonetheless, thank you for being brave and sincere enough to tell me all of this.”

You nod. The pain in your chest gives you goosebumps. It makes your head spin so fast your legs feel unstable as if there is some shift in gravity. You bow with curtsy because every Pomefiore student should be able to do so elegantly even on a space station. “Thank you for listening to my confession.”

“Of course,” he says and looks down at the letter he got from you. It’s neat, somehow cute with how carefully his name is written on it. He holds it gently so as to not crinkle the delicate paper. “I will read the contents tonight.”

“Thank you. No need to write a response,” you force a little chuckle and excuse yourself. You will be overthinking how could you say something like that after you get over your stupid letter and even dumber confession.

Vil doesn’t say anything as you walk a little too fast to keep the step elegant. He sighs at this view and mindfully tucks your letter amid the pages of the book. Now’s the time for history class. He shouldn’t get distracted—

—and soon enough, you’re out of his mind.

That is until he reads your letter.

It's a beautifully crafted confession, put into elegant lettering and a pale pink envelope. It's sealed with red wax in the shape of a perfect heart; if you haven't used magic, it must've taken several evenings to get the precision you wanted.

You’re his fan. He knows it even if you hadn’t pointed it out; the well-tailored sentences betrayed your utter attention on him in the last several years. You’re his fan, but you don’t cheapen yourself. He is the idol you admire and love, but you don’t degrade yourself to a servant or a worshiper. And that is, unexpectedly, uncommon.

The letter is—also—a challenge to yourself. “If you were to reciprocate those feelings, I will prove myself worthy to stand by your side,” it reads.

He likes that letter. Once he finishes it, he skims over the text one last time and puts it between many other letters he has gotten. Between them, another envelope seems unremarkable, yet the words there…

Unforgotten.

He sighs. Maybe he will pay more attention to you from now on.

‏‏‎ ‎

3. Don’t remember all the etiquette rules.

“You wrote in your letter that I've inspired you to learn. Go on, then. Show me how motivated you are.”

So, now Vil bullies you over your letter.

He can’t be satisfied with your scarce etiquette knowledge—he wouldn’t be content if it was decent, as it would be a dishonour to Pomefiore—but amusement crinkles in his eyes at your utter confusion over the numerous forks, knives, spoons and glasses. They’ve been spread out in several rows and columns varying from the oyster forks to champagne flute.

You hesitate. Maybe you could point out which one is the butter knife or sugar spoon, but you never cared enough to discover which fickle knife is a fish knife. Should you be looking for the one with grooves or an extremely thin one? Would it hurt to use a normal knife to eat the salmon?

Oftentimes you’re thankful there is no awkward silence between you and Vil after your confession, but you can’t shake off the impression he’s been harder on you.

“On second thought, maybe I wasn't motivated enough to learn all the names of cutlery,” you say, not daring to try your luck in labelling each piece.

To your surprise, Vil smiles and uses a teasing tone that leaves you stunned and wide-eyed. “Is that so?”

You take a breath and huff, lowering your eyes. “Yes. The power of—,” unrequired, you bite your tongue on that bitter word, “—love ends here.”

Vil cracks another delighted smile. You start suspecting that someone drugged him with a smiling potion, as you should have received a severe scolding by now. You don’t have anything against the change, so the mention of Vil’s (relative) laid-backness goes unmentioned.

“I will have you seated next to me on tomorrow's dinner, so don't even think of slacking off,” he says, putting a hand on your lower back and gently pushing you towards the next table where the heavy textbooks look so very uninviting. “I won't have any student under my wing not know the basic etiquette. Especially if it’s my fan.”

‏‏‎ ‎

4. Have opinions and the courage to voice them.

Because standing for your own makes you flourish in your own colours and not blend into the monotony of the mainstream. Seek truth, good, and beauty and you will bestow the brilliance upon yourself.

‏‏‎

5. Try to have a healthy lifestyle.

You’ve never imagined Vil barging into your room with a tray of food. Why would he? But here you are, sitting in front of an aesthetically pleasing breakfast, mouth-watering pancakes with cream and a bit of honey, and the deep green shake in question that suits the colour palette but probably tastes awfully, like all good stuff packed with vitamins.

“You should never starve yourself if you want to live healthy.”

It’s hard to swallow anything as your dorm leader glares at you, but Vil refuses to leave you before he sees you eating the stuff he brought. You wondered if he prepared the breakfast himself. Probably not.

“No? I thought that keeping a diet is good.”

“If you are dieting you eat,” Vil hisses and sinks a little more into the couch. He brings a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as if he suddenly got struck with a headache. “Oh, heavens. What am I going to do with you?”

“Maybe—”

“Quiet,” it apparently was a rhetorical question. Maybe Vil would be mad at any answer from you as he considers you a fool. He waits until you take another bite of the pancake. “A dinner break will be in two hours, and I expect you to be there.”

“I think I will still be full by that time,” you admit, glancing at a pancake and a half. “These pancakes are savoury but so very filling.”

“Savor them as much as you like,” Vil says somewhat proudly. …Maybe he did make those pancakes? No. He wouldn’t bother this much. The satisfied note in his voice makes you ponder nonetheless. “But you have no excuse for yourself not to sit with us on the meals. Also—”

His gaze grows unexpectedly impish as his eye catches something.

“I will reeducate you on the topic of a healthy lifestyle,” he glances at the bowl of bland lettuce you prepared for yourself. He smiles, either in amusement or light pity. “It should have a little more… spice.”

‏‏‎ ‎

6. Take an interest in high culture.

“It feels like the hellish lessons of Heartslabyul…”

“The Queens’ 810 rules?” Vil’s smile is lopsided and his eyes render into a knowing look once they meet your gaze. “They are nothing compared to a number of customs in etiquette.”

You take a turn. The classes for today might have ended, but if hearing all that useful stuff meant you would walk with Vil back to Pomefiore, you could bear another few minutes of a lecture. You know that everything he tells you about, he already mastered. He wouldn’t teach you anything half-heartily.

“The etiquette of speaking, the dress code, the knowledge of dinner manners (well, you’ve mastered some part of it already, with the cutlery lessons), the control of body language, the indication of voice, the honorifics, the art of writing letters and emails… You don’t want me to list all of the things I expect from you?”

You would like to, because Vil’s voice is beautiful, but the student part of you takes over control and shakes your head. Just like Riddle, who has a reputation for demanding impossible care and inquiring rules, your dorm leader is not much better — maybe even worse, because while Heartslabyul has to oblige the absurd in chosen hours or circumstances, you are on your toes in every moment.

“So much to master in just four years in the NRC…”

“It’s a lot,” Vil says, and he’s the only person you would doubt if he speaks the truth in that matter. Especially if through your walk his strides seemed perfectly calculated and hand gestures finely planned. “But if you put a mind and heart into it, you will learn all of this in no time.”

You hum. It’s hard to think of having any more motivation than from where you were a zealous Vil fan.

You ask (ponder) and he delivers.

“Actually, I have an offer: if you’ll learn it all in ahead of time, I will teach you a dating etiquette.”

…

What?

“…Dating etiquette?!” You shriek so loudly, that several students turn their heads. You cover your mouth as if it would do something, and ignoring Vil’s delighted gaze, and lower your voice to a whisper. “There is such a thing?”

“Of course. Who should invite who on the first date and where, what gifts can you give and what can you accept, and how to behave with your loved one, like,” he pauses a little, and you almost know he bites the sides of his cheeks to contain himself from smiling, “How to kiss someone in particular situations.”

You want to die. How else should you react? How can he tease you so much when he rejects you? (Not like you were expecting much at the time, yet…)

“There is no kissing etiquette. You tease me…”

“Just a little,” Vil laughs, and you slowly relax. “But take my proposal seriously. If I can give you another motivation to engage in your studies, then I will by all means do so.”

‏‏‎ ‎

7. Get an access to his private Magicam account.

“Do you have Magicam? If you want to, you can add me.”

Vil asks the question. He should have chastised you for mindlessly scrolling through social media because you can probably put your mind and hands to better use. The casual tone surprises you, but the inquiry gets you defensive as if it questioned you being Vil’s fan.

“I’ve already been following you for years,” you declare and pull up your phone.

Before you get to his profile, Vil sighs.

“Not the promotional account,” he says. “Mine.”

You frown. Many times you’ve seen Vil posting the photos on the “promotional account” with his personal thoughts. Maybe because you've been blinded by the elegance and harmony of every post, the idea that he would operate the Magicam profile solely for business purposes has never occurred to you.

“You have another account?” You ask, flabbergasted.

Vil rolls his eyes at the surprise in your tone and sits next to you. Your phone beeps as you get a notification about a new user following you. In a heartbeat, you follow the account back. You almost gape at the pictures there; they are beautiful, elegant, and all in Vil’s manner, but he looks like… a common student. Not ethereally, not otherworldly, but still enchantingly.

“It’s a private profile, so I ask you for discretion. I would like to keep this one for my close friends and family,” Vil says, and you hastily nod, your heartbeat sounding like a drumbeat in your ears. Having access to his personal account felt… personal, ironically.

I would like to keep this one for my close friends — he said that, didn’t he? Does he consider you a close friend?

That’s more than you ever imagined.

And yet you dare to dream for more.

You pull your phone close to your chest. “I feel honoured.”

Vil smiles at the statement. “Of course. As you should.”

‏‏‎ ‎

8. Let yourself be pampered.

“Don’t move,” Vil asks for impossible because you want to bolt as he leans to you once again and only the glare he staggers you with as you push away the urge to close your eyes. You hope the foundation is thick enough to cover a blush that creeps on your face. “You will ruin my work.”

You give up and glance down, earning another heavy sigh from your superior.

“Maybe I should finish the eye makeup myself?” You offer. “I am unused to anyone doing my makeup, so it’s hard not to flinch.”

Your good intentions get ruined as the question aggravates Vil even more because he frowns at you. Staying put and keeping quiet about that whole ordeal would seem like a lovely idea, you question whether your heart could manage another hour in this setup.

“Don’t be absurd,” he says. “We need to handle your sensitivity to the touch or you will struggle in the future if you decide to be a model.”

“I am not—”

“Stop.”

“I—”

“Silence. Be quiet, potato,” he presses his finger to your lips to seal them shut. You feel something sticky, and as his finger traces your lips, you realize it’s the lip gloss, and it’s a very good-smelling one like a strawberry; you didn’t expect something so sweet-tasting to be in Vil’s liked products. “You are under my care now. It also brings me satisfaction to see my skills used on someone.”

“Vil—”

“Shut up,” it’s hard to get offended at him, as he uses such a gentle tone. He takes a good look at your lips and as he glances up at you, probably to see if the colours of the whole makeup are consistent, your mouth goes dry. “Before I tell you to do so, don’t speak. You will mess up with the lip gloss and it’s… difficult to apply one on you.”

What? It’s difficult to apply the lipgloss on you?

Alright**,** you nod, pondering if the lip makeup is really that difficult. Do you have an unusual shape of lips (it’s probably not that?), or is this balm so hard to spread? You sit still, as Vil moves closer to you.

Yeah, except for the touch you need a way to ignore the beating of your heart.

‏‏‎ ‎

9. Move on from your heartbreak.

“Would you like to go out with me today?”

A kind smile convinced you to agree, although you barely recognize the name of the boy standing in front of you. His voice was hopeful, and you were reminded of the time you bore the same expectant expression.

You had no heart to let it fall, not right now, not so quickly, so you paint a delighted smile over your face. “Thank you. I would love to.”

…

You should’ve done this a long time ago.

For the sake of your friendship with Vil, you decide to stop hoping that the man of your dreams might change his mind after getting to know you better. He found a friend in you, and you would hate to disappoint him with your longing for him.

So, you should distract yourself from him and fall in love with someone else.

Today’s date will be a perfect opportunity.

You dress quite stylishly, not enough to steal all the attention, but enough to impress your date. You put more effort into the makeup this evening and spend some time picking the most fitting jewellery. The perfume you picked is subtle but alluring and chic, an excellent concoction, but you could’ve expected nothing less from Vil’s recommendation.

…It feels kind of wrong to use everything he taught you to prepare for a date, but you would’ve used this knowledge one day either way, no? It’s not like he is your first… and last love.

“I heard a boy from Scarabia have confessed to you,” the familiar voice you love but don’t want to hear like now spooks you. Vil leans on your door frame, and you wonder how much he has stayed here.

“I just agreed on a date,” you say, standing up and adjusting the folds of your outfit. You look him in the eye. “How do I look?”

Vil snorts, and his lips stretch into a mean, devilish smile. “Are you expecting an approving comment from me?”

Asking the fashion icon to rate your outfit might’ve been a wrong move. You shake your head.

“Nevermind. He’ll have to deal with however I am if he doesn’t want me to be late,” after glancing the last time into the mirror and receiving a smile from your reflection, you pick up your phone. “Well then. I shall get going.”

Vil is still, as if he hasn’t been blocking the exit or as if he wanted to keep you here. You would have loved for him to stop you here. It’s hard to stop the disappointment from flooding over your composure when Vil moves away.

“Alright. Your look is satisfactory so that Scarabia boy better be grateful for being able to go out with you,” he says something ambiguous again, and you feel bad for your date who will have to deal with such a lovesick fool as you. “Enjoy your date.”

The pang of pain pierces your heart. You smile slowly and leave the room.

The heartbreak better goes away as soon as possible, or you’ll go crazy if the thought of dating anyone else hurts that much.

‏‏‎ ‎

10. Look kissable.

“You’re late.”

Maybe you are, but you haven’t been expecting Vil waiting for you. He sits on a sofa, a book is in his hand and the tea that was served in front of him looks cold. You can guess he’s been sitting here for a while.

“How did it go?”

“It went well, I think,” you say. The date went well. Yet, you couldn’t have enjoyed it. The throbbing pain in your heart strained each of your smiles, and it surged when the Scarabian student started to be flirty. You felt as if you were cheating. “He is a kind guy. He has some hobbies and is quite charismatic, so… He’s alright.”

Vil hums. “Will you settle on ‘alright’?”

You stare at him wide-eyed, but he doesn’t look bothered at all. He didn’t lift his gaze from his book, and his tone was nonchalant, so he almost seemed not interested. He was. He is because Vil never asks the question to whose answers he doesn’t want to hear.

“Pardon?”

He spares you a glance.

“I thought your resolution was stronger. What happened to the person who confessed to me and was so willing to determine their worth to me?”

“Are you jealous?”

“I am furious,” he lifts from the sofa, the book forgotten. The air around suddenly grows warmer, and the shiver you didn’t mind that much runs down your spine. Vil’s strides are slower than usual, creating an imposing image of himself before he stands just before you. “If you want to set the bar so low, go on. But let me give you a taste of ambition.”

He twists his head so his eyes meet directly yours. He doesn’t touch you — not yet — but you can feel a warm breath on your cheek, and the scent of his light perfume envelops you. You have the urge to move away and cling to him at the same time. They balance, and you stay still.

A taste…

Vil puts a hand on your cheek. The gesture is much softer and more benevolent than when he was putting makeup on you. His eyes lock with yours, your heart stops, and then they drop to your lips. He moves a thumb over them.

And he kisses you.

In your dreams, you had him kiss your hand, the top of your head. The corner of your mouth. In your boldest wishes, you wanted him to kiss you like that, so lovingly, with so much care. It makes you want to push away for more air, but it makes you worry Vil will disappear if you break the kiss, as all the dreams shatter upon the morning.

He moves away, not breathless, yet not unaffected either. His cheeks burn slowly into a red shade, and his eyes look somehow glassy. “I told you, I will give you just a taste.”

How disappointing.

Before you can say something, he pushes a letter between your fingers. Its envelope matches the one you gave him several months ago. “Read it. I want an answer by midnight.”

The big clock on the wall shows you have over three hours. So much time, and you already know the answer. “You will wait this long?”

“I am giving you a chance and hope,” he says with a subtle smile. The blush on his face makes him more beautiful than you’ve ever seen him. “It’s my duty of your idol to do so.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil #vil schoenheit #twst vil #vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #twst vil x reader #twst vil schoenheit #twst vil schoenheit x reader #Dear Anon I hope you enjoyed this!

[cobaltperun]

Lost - Born for this

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 3.9k

Story Masterlist / Next part

-They just don't get it, I think they forget, I'm not done till I'm on top-

A fist collided with your forearm as you took a step back, mitigating the effects of the impact. The muscular woman in front of you had blood dripping from her lower lip, and a swelling around her left eye, but she still wasn’t giving up as she pushed on toward you. You lowered your guard, baiting her into growing more confident, only to pull her into a clinch and land two ferocious uppercuts right to her head. She pulled away from you, drops of blood from her nose falling between you in the process.

It was only a matter of time before you’d win. A good hit would end the battle, continuing your streak of victories.

Sometimes it felt wrong, but you found peace in a battle, you found the cure to your heart in violence, in the physical pain and fight that would make you feel more adrenaline than anything ever could or would. You felt lost, a lone fighter going up against life itself, left without anyone you could turn to if you lost. No, that wasn’t quite right. She just… wasn’t as present in your life anymore. So, the only place that didn’t make you feel lost or trapped was, ironically, a cage. Somehow, that felt fitting. The only right thing in your life at the moment were these MMA fights and this was the biggest one of your life so far. The loud cheering of the crowd? Merely a background noise. The taste of blood in your mouth? Just another reason for the adrenaline pumping through your body. The pain you were currently feeling? Both from the exhaustion and the hits you took? That just made your body release endorphins. The opponent in front of you? Soon to be defeated.

A feint ended. the battle and as she backed away you landed a spinning back kick to her side. The beating of your heart slowed down as you took deep breaths. You took a moment to wipe off the drops of sweat from your forehead, to come back to reality and come back down from the high of the battle. The cheers of your name were no longer background noise, you were no longer the underdog, you just won your second local title, proving the first one wasn’t a fluke. You could finally enter the next stage! Take on the world’s greatest female MMA fighters! The euphoria caused by the success was a fleeting thought, a steppingstone. The desire to keep pushing harder, to get stronger and better already settling in along with the anticipation of the next fight.

A reporter came up to you while you were still in the cage, with the belt hanging from your shoulder, and an easy-going confident grin on your face you had to admit you did look good.

“Another KO! Another undeniable victory! How does it feel?” the reporter, a woman that has been following your career almost from the start, seeing the potential in you, greeted.

“Amazing, I’d love to say the fight could have gone either way, but I can’t be stopped,” for a moment you turned to the crowd around the cage. “Isn’t that right?!” you raised your arms up, putting on a bit of a show. Trash talking and overconfidence was part of the job, it generated hype, and earned you money. Respect for the opponent was for the behind the cameras.

And the crowd cheered and booed, almost in equal numbers, some wanting to see you keep going, some wanting to see you fall, as long as they came to watch it hardly mattered.

“And what’s next for the Woodsboro’s upstart fighter, Y/N L/N?” the reporter asked over the yells of the crows.

“The world, of course! Sooner, rather than later I’ll come for the title!” you promised, not exaggerating one bit, that was your goal, the purpose, the reason to keep fighting. You would become the world champion.

“Your target is Anya Golubeva, is what I’m hearing. It’ll be a tough road, but you’ve never been stopped before,” the reporter encouraged you to keep going.

You smirked, knowing full well the current world champion, Anya Golubeva, was a fight that was still far away, and that she might not even have the title by the time you get to challenge her. “Sure, it’s about time someone takes the title from her!”

You kept chatting for another minute or two before saying goodbye and leaving the arena. Your coach, pleased by your victory, was right by your side, waving to the crowd and enjoying the attention much more than you did now that the theatrics were over.

“You’re going right back to Woodsboro?” he asked you as you walked through the nearly empty, dimly lit halls, your footsteps echoing all around you.

“Yeah, I’d rather be there right now,” you said as the two of you stopped by the doors of the locker room. “I’ll see you next week and we can go over this fight and potential opponents for the next one,” you patted him on the arm, really wanting to just take a quick shower and get in your car as soon as possible. The drive back to Woodsboro would take almost two hours, so the sooner you left the building, the sooner you’d go back home.

“Of course, you were great tonight! Keep doing what you do the best and we’ll be at the top of the world!” he was happy, much more excited than you were, and you couldn’t blame him. At least someone was appropriately happy with the success you were having.

~X~

The moment you got in your car you felt a sense of clarity, you no longer felt the high of the battle, just the sense of calm and peace. The drive back to Woodsboro was fun, driving was always fun, well, aside from the times when you’d get stuck in traffic, but that was beside the point. Driving was fun, but driving also meant not answering the phone that kept ringing as if your friends didn’t know you by now. The Babadook theme suddenly caught your attention, and you figured you could stop to fill up the gas tank, so, roughly a mile down the road you stopped and pulled out your phone and returned the most recent call.

A few seconds later Chad’s voice came from the other side. “How come you don’t answer any of us? Hmm Champ?”

“Tara has a different ringtone,” you shrugged as you began filling the gas tank. Given how late it was, and that you were already relatively close to Woodsboro your car was the only one at the small gas station.

“Not fair, Y/N,” you could hear the pouting in his voice.

That made you smirk, as if you wanted to be fair when it came to Tara. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you weren’t even sure he heard you as there was a sudden commotion wherever he was. While our friends were deciding on who was getting the phone you wondered why you didn’t put on your jacket, because the chill night air and a bit of wind blowing in your face wasn’t exactly fun at the moment. Oh well, this wouldn’t take long, even if the short-sleeved polo shirt would get a weird look from the cashiers.

A few moments later the commotion settled down. “Hey, how did it go?” hearing her voice felt so damn good, especially since you didn't get to hear it that often lately. Tara’s question made you smile. She didn’t watch your matches, but you knew she heard how the match ended from Chad. She wasn’t asking about the match though.

“Let’s see, my lower lip got busted, but it’s really not that bad, other than that there’s nothing out of the ordinary, I’ll have bruises for a couple of days, and I’ll be sore but it’s the regular outcome,” if it was anyone else asking you’d probably be annoyed, but it was Tara and you missed her. And even if you didn’t miss her, well Tara was Tara, you could never get annoyed because of her.

You could hear a sigh. A sign of disapproval and reluctant acceptance that telling you to stop fighting would only be a waste of her breath. You couldn't stop. You plain and simple couldn't. Not ever for Tara. There was something bigger than simple fighting here, you had an obligation to fulfil. “Could you pick me up? I’m at Chad and Mindy’s house.”

The question caught you by surprise, she hadn’t asked you to pick her up since two months ago. “Yeah, of course,” you glanced down at the watch. “I’ll pick you up in half an hour?”

“Great! Drive safe okay?” the excitement in her voice made you shiver, and not from the wind, in fact, you barely felt the wind at all.

“Always, Tara,” you reassured her.

You hung up, went inside the gas station to pay, and grabbed a kiwi fruit bar as well as a bottle of water. You paid and were back on your way to Woodsboro.

~X~

“A special ringtone? Seriously?” Chad teasingly accused the moment Tara hung up.

Tara just shrugged, leaning back into the pillows behind her to appear even smaller, suddenly she found the snacks in front of her to be the most interesting thing in the room. She was just glad she remembered to put her phone on silent when you called back. It was a bit of an unspoken promise between you two, you had the theme from the Babadook as your ringtone when she called and she had a song from your favorite show (movie) as her ringtone when you called her. You didn’t even discuss it really, you just misplaced your phone one night and she called you and heard the theme, prompting questions from her since you did not like the Babadook enough to make it your ringtone. Even she didn’t have that theme as her ringtone! Sometimes she felt like she wasn’t fair to Amber, but you were you! You have been her best friend since she was almost ten, since that day in the rain.

You’ve been her, everything really, her best friend, her protector even when Sam was still in Woodsboro, her first love, but not her first kiss. When Tara thought of being loved, she thought of you, of being held in your arms. But you didn’t love her back. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. You didn’t love her back enough. You chose your career. You chose to be an MMA fighter and Tara couldn’t handle that. The idea of watching you get hurt, or waiting for you to come home with fresh bruises stopped her from telling you how she felt. It was one of the reasons she accepted and, to the best of her abilities, reciprocated Amber’s feeling.

“Forget the ringtone! She’s picking you up,” Mindy had the guts to give her a knowing look as if she actually knew anything. She had the guts to be giddy with excitement over something that no longer mattered.

“Good thing Amber couldn’t make it,” Liv’s taunt soured Tara’s mood instantly. “Shit, sorry,” and she noticed it immediately.

Tara smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s okay,” even if Tara loved you there was nothing but friendship between the two of you and if Amber was going to be unreasonably jealous that was her issue. Not Tara’s. She already compromised enough, she could spend a bit of time with you. She promised herself it would only be the ride to her place and maybe chatting for a bit, not for too long, since you needed your rest, but just for a bit. The thought made the smile reach her eyes. The smile vanished when a message from Amber caught her attention.

~X~

Chad and Mindy’s house wasn’t far from Tara’s. It was definitely within walking distance, but given how late it was, and that it was getting colder, getting a ride wasn’t unreasonable. Not that it mattered, you didn’t need a reason to spend time with Tara. You stepped out of your car, a comfortable car, not exactly built for speed, or off-road driving, it was perfect for you though.

“Champ!” Chad was the first to tackle you into a hug as you approached his and Mindy’s house.

“Hey buddy, take it easy, I got hit there,” you half-joked as you patted him on the back.

“Where?” the teasing grin on his face told you everything.

“Everywhere, you jerk, I was in a fight,” you laughed, stepping away from him. A brief hug from Mindy and a high-five from Liv wrapped up the greetings and congratulations.

“We saw, even Tara saw,” Liv pointed out as the four of you entered the house.

“Nice,” that’s when the meaning of her words finally hit you and you stopped. “Wait, what?”

“Technically she was peeking through her fingers, but she saw the fight,” Mindy explained with that knowing smirk on her face. You glanced through the doors, watching as Tara was getting ready. She had her back turned to you, and you knew you were staring, but you couldn’t take your eyes off her. She actually watched your fight. “Come on you two, let’s take our place as the lovable side characters,” Mindy’s teasing was never going to end, not even now that Tara was with Amber. You jokingly flipped her off, still watching Tara as she placed her inhaler and phone in her bag. You frowned at that. Did she need her inhaler? During your fight or after it? When you turned to look at Mindy and Chad they seemed to lose interest in you and Liv wasn’t much better as she pretended to admire a picture hanging on the wall. Sighing you went into the living room just as Tara turned around.

Her face lit up and she jumped into your arms, letting you lift her up. “You okay?” you asked as she looked down at you. Her left hand rested on your shoulder as her right hand slipped behind your neck. The warmth of Chad and Mindy’s house was nothing to the warmth of her body in your arms.

“I am, don’t worry about it,” the softness of her voice, the adoration in her eyes, the gentle way she checked the cut on your lower lip, you took it all in, because it’s been too long since you and Tara were this close. For reasons you were almost sure had everything to do with Amber, you and Tara grew distant a month into their relationship. Spare inhaler Tara kept at your place? Amber had it now. Movie nights? Once a month if you got lucky, as opposed to at least twice a week before her relationship with Amber. Tara almost randomly appearing to hang out either at the gym or at your work? That seldom happened over the past three months. So, you figured you could be forgiven for wanting to hold your best friend just a bit tighter and longer than you did before she told you she and Amber got together. You could be forgiven because despite what you felt this was how you were as friends long before you figured out you had feelings for Tara. You could be forgiven because you would never do anything that would affect Tara’s happiness.

“Okay, I’m here if you need to talk,” you assured her softly.

Tara’s smile grew wider. “I know, Y/N,” you could see the reluctance in her eyes as she dropped her left hand from your shoulder and lightly squeezed your biceps, a silent sign that told you to let her down. You did and now the height difference of roughly eight and a half inches emphasized how adorably tiny Tara was compared to you. “By the way, a tiny change of the plans, could you take me to Amber’s house?”

“Sure,” you missed your chance, well, that would imply you had one. Well, you would have had a chance if you didn’t choose to fight. So, you decided there wasn’t a chance to begin with. The drive to Amber’s house was filled with deafening silence broken only by the occasional buzzing of Tara’s phone, filled with unspoken words, and filled with a sense of tension you hated.

As you waited for the traffic light to turn green you realized you haven’t given Tara the fruit bar you bought, so you reached for the fruit bar resting next to the water bottle in your cup holder and silently handed it to her.

“Oh,” you guessed she was surprised, but seeing as the lights turned green you couldn’t look at her. You could only feel the brush of her fingers as she accepted the snack. “Thank you,” she said, causing you to smile.

“Always, T,” your smile widened when you heard a muffled moan of appreciation at the taste of the fruit bar. She always loved kiwi, so you made it a bit of a habit to get her something with kiwi every now and then.

A few minutes later you parked in front of Amber’s house and Tara stepped out to greet Amber, the girl was already waiting by the road. For some reason, you had an awful feeling you should say something to Tara. It was a familiar feeling, one you normally got when you realized you were about to get hit but couldn’t do anything but brace for it.

Tara leaned through the window of your passenger seat and reached out for your hand. "Thanks, Y/N," there was that smile again.

"Don't mention it," you gently squeezed her hand as the silence turned from uncomfortable to pleasant and you just looked her in the eyes. Just for a moment, you didn't feel lost, you felt exactly how you felt before she got together with Amber.

A cough made Tara pull back and take a few steps back, choosing to stand next to Amber. “Good night,” Tara waved at you.

“Sweet dreams,” you forced out and drove away, the feeling of being lost came back, right along with that awful feeling that filled you with anxiety.

That night, the only reason you managed to fall asleep was the exhaustion in your body, and as the date changed from 22nd to 23rd you were plagued by nightmares you neither remembered nor could explain.

~X~

The moment Tara followed Amber inside she regretted not going home. Or to your place. She regretted it as she sat down in Amber’s living room, with her arms crossed and Amber clearly fuming. It was a familiar scene, a slasher horror movie playing on the TV to fill the silence, the dinner plate with a few crumbs on it, a half-drunk cup of milk, the usual scene for Amber’s living room when there wasn’t a party of some kind going on. “Amber, Y/N is my best friend!” Tara argued, hoping to prevent the argument before it even started.

Amber laughed, almost maniacally at that. “Yeah, a friend! You never look at me like that!”

“Yes, a friend, you know there’s nothing between us,” and she didn’t look at you ‘like that’. She knew exactly what look Amber was talking about, the longing look, filled with all her love and desire for you. She didn’t look at you like that since her and Amber got together. She drew a definitive line there; she would never make Amber feel insecure about their relationship. Tara made her choice, you made sure it wasn’t you, that was the end of it. You were her best friend, but Amber was a close second and Amber loved her the way you wouldn’t…

Amber slammed her palm on the table. “But you want to!” she screamed, her eyes wild and filled with jealousy.

Tara didn’t back away, she didn’t flinch, she just tried her best to keep her breathing under control without using her pump. Amber was angry, but Amber would never hurt her. Even if she tried Tara was confident she could get away. “I wanted to, and you’ve always known that! But that’s the point, I wanted to! I don’t want to anymore! I’m with you now!” she yelled back, tired of this argument happening again and again.

Amber took a deep breath, finally calming down, and that was all Tara wanted, she just wanted her girlfriend to remain calm. “I’m sorry, Baby, I just… You know how I get when I see Y/N,” Tara knew, she knew and that was why she accepted to create some distance between the two of you.

It got out of control by now, it wasn’t supposed to be this drastic, but Tara craved the love Amber was giving her, and she had learnt a long time ago that if people loved her they expected something from her. Her dad wanted a healthy daughter, she wasn’t that, she was sickly and weak and needed to be cared for. So, he left. Sam was the same, Tara couldn’t be the little sister Sam wanted. Sam couldn’t be a normal teenager with Tara around, so Sam distanced herself and then abandoned Tara almost the first chance she got. Her mother was the same, because Tara was the one who tore their family apart. Because Tara clung too hard. Because Tara wasn’t good enough.

Amber was the same, Amber needed a girlfriend that wouldn’t choose you instead of her, Amber needed Tara to choose her instead of you, so Tara did that. That was the cost of Amber’s love. And Tara would pay it. And Amber knew it.

“I know, Amber, I just miss my best friend sometimes,” Tara sighed, a tiny voice in her head telling her you’d never make her choose, that you never once wanted anything more than what Tara had to offer to you. If there was anyone who loved Tara for who she was, without expectations, conditions, costs, or abandonment, it was you.

But you’d never love her the way Tara loved you. Why else would you let her get together with Amber? Why else would you accept the distance? You wouldn’t have done that if you loved Tara back.

“Y/N will abandon you Tara, sooner or later. She’s no longer your guard dog. The moment an opportunity for her career comes around, she’ll abandon you. I won’t, I’d never abandon you,” and as Amber sat down on Tara’s lap, Tara found it difficult to argue, especially since you kept winning, and with every win you’d be closer and closer to your goal. You’d leave Woodsboro eventually, searching for a better life, and Tara would be left here, unable to follow.

That same voice in the back of her head, the one that constantly told her to go to you, told her Amber was wrong. Distance made it difficult to argue. Distance made it easier for Amber to convince her this was the truth. In hindsight It almost would have been enough, but then you took hold of her and all of Amber’s efforts were immediately wasted. You nearly took hold of her one day too late, though, but even then, even as she was bleeding out on her kitchen floor, her leg broken, desperately crying out in pain and fear of the one who attacked her so brutally, she still only thought of two people as she barely clung to life. One was Sam, the other? You.

A/N: So, Y/N is an MMA fighter, honestly, I just want the reader to be reasonably capable of kicking Ghostface’s ass, so yeah, the reader is a badass.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #scream #jenna ortega x reader

[scremogirl]

☾✧꥟ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ✧✰☀︎︎

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐧

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

Mentions of blood! Mentions of Death! Mentions of mutilation! Mentions of Murder, GN! Reader, NReader/Diolouge uses a lot of black colloquialisms/AAVE *slightlyyyy black coded but only for the speaking bits. NO APPERANCE MENTIONED!* READ THE NOTE AT THE END PLZ! (●’◡’●)ﾉ Part 2 here Part 3 here

Halloween.

The day where people grasp the fact that the summer's over and the seasons have finally changed. Corny decorations on front porches, masks in windows to scare unaware customers, and people dressed as slutty cartoon characters.

You loved the last one. You’ve always worked hard on your costumes; from a small cameo in the school yearbook to entering contests and pageants. You loved fashion, everything about it. The different fabrics, colors, patterns; you cherished it all. So, it’s no wonder that’s what you’ve chosen as your destined career path. You somehow managed to get into the third most prestigious fashion school. I say third because the first one you applied for, was full of egotistical French exchange students who do nothing but compare their lives at home to their lives in America. The second… well, you don’t want to talk about it. Regardless, you’re so grateful your talents have been recognized.

That leads us to now. At the biggest fright fest of the year. Your professor decided that if everyone got at least a 95% or above on the unit test, he’d take the whole class on a field trip to the annual Freak do Shek Carnival. A free trip and creating a new costume? You’ve never studied harder in your life. You spent days working on your costume; hoping to win the annual costume contest.

“Breaking news! The killer know as the “Mask Maker” is still on the loose and is currently suspected to be in the Witchwood area. It is recommended for all residents to stay indoors travel in groups-,”

Your heart sinks.

No, no, no! Why does it have to be now? Why here? The area you lived in was one of the safest in the city! Police patrolled regularly, security systems were available to all, and most people have been traveling in groups these days. So, why? You look at your friend, Malika, who no doubt received the same alert as you did, judging by her face.

“Well what the hell are we supposed to do now!?” She yells in frustration. You all have arrived at the festival and the bus has already taken its leave. Unless you call an Uber, there’s no way out; but then again, with a killer on the loose, no person would be dumb enough to let any stranger in their car. You tell your teacher your concerns, but does he listen? No.

“We’ll be fine,” , “just travel in groups,” , and “make sure you check in with everyone at least every 15 minutes,” is all he says to shake your worries. Great job by the way. With that, he goes ahead with another one of the chaperones, probably on their way to get drunk on cheap beer and look at young girls. Pig.

“I know I ain’t stayin for damn sure,” you chuckle at Malikas abrasiveness and nod your head in agreement.

“Who’s gonna pick us up though? We all came here on a bus and no Lift driver is stupid enough to let strangers in at this time,” you both sigh and end up agreeing that she’d call her boyfriend to come get you. The only downside is he lives in the next county. That means 3 whole hours plus some that you two have to try and rid your paranoia.

“How ‘bout we go check out the costume display for the upcoming show? Maybe scope out some the competition?”

“You know what Malika, that sounds like a great idea,” she holds out her arm and you take it , laughing your way down the hay covered dirt path wearily dodging scare actors. Unbeknownst to you the glowing eyes of one of the masks are filled with anything but fake intent.

“Hey, Mal? Is he on the way yet?” You two have already viewed the display, concrete knowing you’re gonna knock everyone at the park. So you decided that maybe a little sightseeing wouldn’t be that bad.

“Ugh! He said he’s on his way but knowing him, that means he just got in the shower,” with a deep sigh she puts her phone back in her pocket.

“Look,” she continues

“ How about we go get something to eat and enjoy what we can. I mean, we did wait all year for this,” you’re a little hesitant but you end up caving; fried oreos do sound good right now.

The walk to the concession stands is filled with jump scares from actors, Jack, o lanterns illuminating your path and the laughter of children and adults a like. The environment reminds you of why you came here in the first place, maybe there is nothing to be worried about.

Oof!

“Oh I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” to wrapped up in the scenery and nostalgia, you failed to notice one of the actors scrambling by. You hear the muffled laughter of Malika and try your best not to strangle her to cover up your embarrassment. Fortunately , it was just the water that spilled on them; Unfortunately, your oreos lay spread eagle on the ground. However, even with a soaked costume and powdered sugar all over their boots, they remain in character. Only giving you a tilt of the head, a grunt, and tightening their grip on their axe. The eyes that lay behind the papier-mâché mask boar deep into your soul, the white contacts holding something deep and dark. The feeling of guilt is slowly washed away and replaced with anxiousness. Man, they're getting employee of the month. Still, you feel bad so you grab the napkins from your back pocket and gently wipe their mask, some of the fake blood coming off along with the water. Hmm, these effects are off the chain too.

As you clean them up you can’t help but to think that they’ll join the costume contest, definitely giving you a run for your money. You're snapped out of your thoughts when Malika pulls you along the road, whining about how upset she is because she didn’t get to snag one of your Oreos. Making your leave, you look over your shoulder one last time, only to find those same white eyes trailing your figure.

My god, you're even more beautiful up close.

“Personally, if that happened to me I’d kill myself,” once again, your friends laughter snapped you outta your own mind. You just giggle and brush it off.

“Shut up! It’s not like I did it on purpose! Besides he was kinda fine not gon’ hold you,”

“I know right! the way he titled his, had a tear running down my leg not gon’ lie,”

“Girl… don’t you gotta man? Like… on his way here?”

“Shhhh don’t ruin the fantasy,”

Two hours have officially passed, the same old texts between Malika and her boyfriend, this time however he was actually in the car. She had pressed him to turn on his location for safety, you could never be too sure now can you? He should’ve been here by now but with how crowded the festival is getting, you can’t blame him. Thankfully, the contest is just about to start! Going against your better judgment, you and Malika thought that being apart for about 15-20 mins wouldn’t hurt. She’ll be waiting in the audience while you go change anyways.

Rushing to the changing rooms you fail to notice another contestant coming towards you just as fast. For the second time this night you managed to bump into someone.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean I-,”

“Watch where you’re going bitch! Y’know how long it took me to make this thing?” You look to the left and then to the right trying to figure out who the fuck they think they’re talking too.

“Look I didn’t mean it, I’m sorr-,”

“Yea yea whatever, just stay outta my way next time. Besides, it’s not like you're gonna win this thing anyways,” just before you were about to give them a piece of your mind, the manager stepped in and separated you two. Jeez now this is gonna take even longer than you expected. You thought it was only fair to let Malika know shoot her a quick text. “No worries, babe! Gill's location says he’s here already so Imma grab us a quick bite to eat before I look for him and we head to you. See ya soonnn❤︎︎!!!”

Good; that buys you just enough time. After getting changed and checking your reflection for the hundredth time, you step out feeling as confident as ever. Just as you exit the stall, you hear the worst blood curdling scream of your entire life. You look over to your right and see that asshole from early and that guy with the really nice axe murder costume. Your eyes have to be deceiving you! One of their legs is completely severed, blood dripping from the stub left behind. Slash marks, deep and crooked, adorn their arms and remaining leg. They Look as if their limbs could snap off at the slightest breeze. They cry and groan as they reach out to you. Following their eyes the crazed murder shifts his eyes to you. Their weapon of choice freezing in their hands mid swing. Their victim continues to moan in pain and crawl away, begging and pleading for someone to save them. But…you just laugh.

“I see what you're trynna do here, and it ain’t workin’. Your costume is good but it isn’t better than mine. Assholes,” the last part is mumbled under your breath as you walk away. Even though you presented yourself in this prideful manner, you can’t help the feeling of disappointment that bubbles inside you. You tried really hard this year, let’s just hope that everyone else thinks you did too.

CHOP

Finally. Holding up the severed head he smiles, crooked and eerie. The bitch wouldn’t stop screaming, but at least he gets to see the look of fear in their face forever.

“Hey! What the hell’re you doing!?” hm? Turning around he sees the manager from earlier, standing before him with wide eyes filled with shock and anger. He can’t have his plans be ruined by a little slip up! He didn’t mean to act so impulsive but he couldn’t help. Nobody talks to you like that; not if he had something to do about it. Swinging his weapon of choice up on his shoulder, he’s about to take a step before he’s interrupted.

“Didn't I tell you guys to keep all spare props in bags because of the fake blood?! It gets everywhere and I’m the one who has to clean it up!” They shoved him to the side before grabbing a large trash bag from the cart they lugged behind them; simultaneously grabbing a mop and bucket. Continue to grumble about how “they don’t get paid enough for this” and “all the newbies are irresponsible”. But hey, free disposal.

“Sh, sh it’s okay; it was never your fault,” you tried comforting her but to no luck. All she can see is red as the burning hot tears streaming from her eyes ruin the makeup she spent so long on

“Okay?! It’s not okay (Y/N)! He said he was stuck in traffic all the while he was toungin’ down some bitch in a slutty cat costume. Very unoriginal btw!” You try to keep your giggle in for her sake. You kept trying to tell her this idiot wasn’t any good for years but nooo “the dick was too good to let go,” and apparently, someone else thought so too. Her weeping continues before she builds up the courage to speak again.

“All I wanna do is go home; fuck this competition,” you smile seeing her personality shine through her sadness just a little.

“Yea, fuck this competition,”sure you’re sad about to being able to participate this year, but with your best friend in distress and a serial killer on the loose, you can’t help but to think that maybe you could wait until next year. Ordering the Uber, you suggest that before it gets here, you should check in with your teacher first. Of course you don’t have his number and you're sure your other classmates are not worried about their phones unless they’re snapping pics and recording for their stories . You send them a quick text to your classes group chat and look for the exit.

“He really is a dick, you don’t need him,”

“Yea, I know. Besides, maybe that axe guy will take care of him for me,” she giggles but you don’t find it funny at all.

“What?”

“Yea, I saw him outta the corner of my eye when I walked in on he who shall not be named about to fuck that other girl,” she rolls her eyes and continues walking but you remain stationary.

“You gotta be joking,“ she turns around and gives you a quizzical look so you continue further.

“He and another dickhead I bumped into put on this whole show to get me to drop outta the contest. Lost limbs, fake blood and everything. I don’t know what his problem is, but he needs to leave me the fuck alone before I get the manager, on some Karen shit”

“Now that I think about it, he has been high-tailing us ever since we’ve got here,” she freezes before looking at you dead on. She wipes away the tear stains and brushes her nose against her sleeve before scanning the area.

“You don’t think it’s Kee-,”

“No! Don’t. It’s not him. It couldn’t be,” she holds up her hands in defense before pulling you along to get the hell up outta here. It goes dead silent, tension filling the air. It couldn't be him! It’s just some rando whos jealous of your skill! But…your mind was just playing tricks on you. That feeling of paranoia started to rise again and the flashbacks felt like they were hitting you in waves. She saw this and decided to speak up before it got worse.

“Hey, I’m sorry for bringing it up. I really didn’t mean to-,” this time it’s your turn to cut her off. You offer her a light smile and hold her hand in yours before squeezing.

“It’s alright. Besides, who needs men anyways. You’re all I need,” she gives you an even brighter one, her usual self returning, before squeezing just as hard, laying her head on your shoulder while you walk.

“Yea, fuck men,” you two laugh in sync before changing the conversation to what you’ll do when you get home; maybe a Horror movie marathon and some junk food will cheer you up. Who cares, the night has just begun for you and there’s no way anything was gonna ruin it.

Watching you walk away a gloved hand slams into a tree. Dammit! You won’t get away so easily. You’re his. Nobody else’s. He’ll make sure of it. Starting with her.

Hello everyone!!!! Hope you enjoyed the first part of my Halloween special. I’m breaking this down into 3 parts because I’m afraid people will think it’s too long if I put the whole thing on tumblr. I will be making an Ao3 and the whole fic will be posted without any split up. When it’s created and up I’ll let you know. Hope you enjoyed Loves!!! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎.

-Love, Sosa❤️

#Yandere! serial killer #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰

[vintagecarat]

Romance Analysis Unit

Summary: You like Spencer. Spencer likes you. Somehow, you’re the only ones on the team who can’t see it - and that calls for some BAU intervention.

A/N: Remember this? Yeah, I’m reposting it as one big fic rather than two little fics, because I’m impulsive when it comes to my writing and I can’t make permanent decisions. Please excuse any spelling and/or grammar mistakes.

Enjoy the fic, and have a fantastic day <3

Note(s): gn!reader & no pronouns used, mentions of alcohol, mention(s) of canon-typical violence, reader gets hurt (non-life threatening), mentions of blood, all the clichés rolled into one, possible cringe (I don’t usually write romance and I might’ve gone too cliché lol.)

Word Count: 4056

* * *

It had been one year, seven months and sixteen days since you’d joined the BAU.

And it had been one year, seven months and nine days since you’d realized that you had a crush on Spencer Reid.

It sounded so childish. A crush, as if you were back in elementary school and thinking that you were in love with the boy who sat two seats to the left of you. You’d liked people in the past, and you’d had partners in the past, but there was something about liking Spencer that was different.

It was almost as if you were facing your first love for the first time all over again.

You’d quickly decided that it was something that you wanted to keep to yourself. You weren’t too keen on becoming the center of a workplace romance, especially not as the newest recruit still eager to prove yourself.

During a particularly wild night out, however, your plan to keep your crush a secret went flying out of the nearest window, along with any shred of dignity you had remaining after drinking one too many shots. 

Penelope had been the first one you’d told, which had definitely been a foolish move on your part, but you were too drunk in the moment to make any logical decisions. Emily and JJ had gone to the bar, leaving you and Penelope alone to guard the table in the corner. She’d brought up the topic, and you’d naturally followed the conversation.

You wished you could’ve taken a photo of her face the moment she processed the words that were coming out of your mouth. 

Once Penelope knew, it was only a matter of time before Emily and JJ knew. Considering how loud Penelope had shrieked at them in excitement, the entire bar most likely knew.

“Place your bets, everyone,” Emily had shouted over the music, slamming a twenty-dollar bill onto the table, “How long until Garcia tells Morgan?”

It barely even took an hour. Emily ended up winning her own bet. 

Derek practically cornered you in the bullpen the next time he saw you, failing miserably to hide a huge smirk as he showed you his phone and the, often unintelligible, texts from Penelope.

With the alcohol out of your system and the devastating hangover a painful memory, you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole. You severely regretted letting Emily talk you into those Raspberry Bombs. 

From that moment on, you noticed that the team was messing with you. You didn’t have any proof, but you were sure of it. 

You’d enter the conference room to find that the only seat remaining was next to Spencer. You’d find yourself paired up with Spencer more often during cases. You and Spencer would frequently be the last two members left in the bullpen at the end of the day. 

It wasn’t as if you particularly minded. You and Spencer were best friends, you had been from the moment you stepped into the bullpen and made a comment about the book he had on his desk. You were used to being around him, but it was a lot harder to act as if everything was normal when you were on edge ninety-percent of the time. You were always wondering if he knew anything about the crush you had on him, or if someone else was about to blurt out the secret that you hoped to keep hidden. It was a lot easier when you were the only person you had to think about.

“Guys,” JJ called for everyone’s attention as she made her way through the bullpen, a case file in her hands, “We’ve got a case.”

“Bad?”

JJ simply grimaced.

You sighed, rising from your seat and heading to the conference room alongside the rest of the team, “Of course it is.”

It didn’t surprise you to see that the seat beside Spencer was the only one available. As you slid into it, you caught Emily smirking at you from across the table. You shook your head at her, though you couldn’t stop a tiny smile from ghosting your lips. 

~

As you’d, regretfully, predicted, the case was a bad one. Not that there were ever any good ones. 

You’d been called to a small town in Wyoming after a frantic call from the police department. Three victims had been found in the town’s frozen lake with anchors tied to their ankles to keep them below the surface. A fourth victim had gone missing, and there was no doubt that she would end up like the others if she wasn’t found, as much as nobody wanted to admit it.

It was late, almost 11:00 p.m., and you were no closer to solving the case than you had been when you’d first arrived. It was as if the unsub was always three steps ahead of you. 

You’d spent a good portion of the afternoon scouring through decade old case files. The lead detective was convinced that it was related to a similar case that had happened in the 1990s. You hadn’t found any striking similarities between the two and you were beginning to wonder if there would be any at all. He was clutching at straws, desperately trying to close the case as quickly as possible. You couldn’t fault him for that.

Just as the words  on the case file were beginning to blur into one large amalgamation, a gentle hand landed on your shoulder, “Hey,” JJ said, “We’re all heading to the hotel.”

“You go ahead,” you waved dismissively, stifling a yawn, “I’m going to finish looking over these files, and…”

“Hotch’s orders,” she cut you off, “You need a break. We all do.”

You looked to the doors of the precinct and saw the rest of the team ready to leave, muttering amongst themselves in a tired conversation. Aaron raised his eyebrows, almost expectantly, at you.

“Alright,” you didn’t bother trying to hide another yawn, “I’m coming.”

You stood up on unsteady legs and padded after JJ, moving as if your brain wasn’t in control of your body. You were so caught up in the details of the case that you hadn’t realized how tired you actually were, but the sudden rush of air that hit you as you exited the building made you even drowsier. You clumsily climbed into the SUV and let your head fall tiredly back against the seat. 

“We’re here,” someone shook your shoulder, “Wake up.”

Your eyes snapped open. Spencer was standing beside you on the sidewalk, holding the car door open with a slight twinge of color on his cheeks.

“You coming?” 

“Yeah. Yeah. Sorry,” you climbed out of the car, “I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep.”

“I did. You fell asleep on me,” he said, “And you kicked me a couple of times, I think.”

You flushed a little, coughing sheepishly, “Sorry.”

The rest of the team were already waiting at the front desk when you entered the hotel. You and Spencer joined the others, and you made a point of ignoring the sly looks Derek and Emily were sending you.

Aaron finished his conversation with the receptionist and moved back over to the team, keycards in hand, “They don’t have enough rooms for all of us. It looks like we’re sharing.”

If Spencer noticed the subtle smirks and side glances the team sent in your direction, he never mentioned them.

He nudged your shoulder, “Are you okay with sharing?”

“Yeah, sure,” you smiled at him, taking the keycard Aaron was holding out to you, “I’m sleeping on the bed nearest the window this time.”

“That’s not fair,” Spencer followed you as you made your way to the elevator, “I like sleeping near the window.”

“Not happening. You slept near the window last time.”

As the elevator shot up to your designated floor, you noticed that your heart seemed to be thudding quicker than usual in your chest, and you felt a small wave of anxiousness wash over you. Sharing a room with Spencer wasn’t a new experience, but you hadn’t openly admitted your feelings to anyone during those times. You’d barely admitted them to yourself, and feelings were a lot easier to ignore when they weren’t out in the open.

“Even the elevators are fancy,” you muttered, casting a quick glance over the elevator’s plus interior, “For a small town, they sure do have nice hotels.”

Small talk. You hated small talk, but you found yourself unable to come up with anything to say other than the most mundane topic you could think of. It wasn’t you, and it was obvious.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Hm?”

“You hate small talk,” Spencer said, and you bit back a laugh at that, “And you’re pulling at your sleeves. You always pull your sleeves down to your fingers when you’re nervous.”

You looked down at your hands. You hadn’t even realized you’d been tugging at the sleeves of your jumper until Spencer mentioned it. You immediately dropped them.

“So,” he continued, “You’re clearly nervous about something. And it’s not the case, because cases never make you nervous.”

“Really?” you said, incredulous, “You’re analyzing me?”

The elevator reached your floor and the door's opener, “I’m not analyzing,” Spencer stepped out, “I’m simply making an astute observation.”

“Okay, well, stop astutely observing me,” you followed him, “I’d tell you if there was something wrong. You know I would.”

You weren’t necessarily lying. You’d always ended up telling Spencer about anything that was bothering you. You simply decided he didn’t need to know about this one particular thing.

Spencer looked back at you briefly, as if he didn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth, but he never said anything. Instead, he took the keycard from you and held it against the lock, waiting for the light to turn green before pushing the door open. 

“Oh.”

“What?” you stepped around him, “Oh.”

You only had one bed. 

You were going to kill Penelope.

“I’ll take the couch.”

“I can sleep on the couch.”

You and Spencer finished your sentences at the same time, and you turned to look at each other, almost incredulous.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch either,” you argued, “You’re way too tall, it’ll kill your back,” you threw your bag onto the couch before he could complain, “There. Done.”

Spencer frowned and reluctantly put his own bag on the bed, “Fine. But we’re swapping tomorrow night,” he told you, “You’re not sleeping on the couch the entire time we’re here.”

“Deal,” your lips curled into a small smirk, “I told you I’d be sleeping near the window.”

~

From your space on the couch, you could see the glowing green alarm clock on the bedside table. A strange commodity for a hotel room. It almost looked alien.

2:32 a.m.

You couldn’t sleep, and not only because your sleep schedule was an absolute mess. Your side still burned and, if you gently put pressure on the area, you could still feel the deep wound through the layers of bandages.

Almost three days into the case, and you finally thought you’d had a solid lead. It had taken a lot of digging, but Penelope had eventually discovered the unsub’s hunting ground, an old speakeasy hidden so deep in the town that nobody had been able to trace it. You were the closest in victimology so you’d agreed to go undercover to catch him.

All you’d ended up with was a knife deep in your side as the unsub escaped you once again.

You’d been in the hospital for hours after that. The knife had gone so deep that it was close to catching something vital. The doctor’s told you that you were lucky to be alive. You’d spent most of the afternoon in that hospital bed, listening to the monotonous sound of beeping machines and. After a concerned lecture from Aaron (he’d told you not to follow the unsub, but you hadn’t exactly listened), you were bandaged up and sent on your way. 

Spencer had told you to take the bed, almost forcing you into it at one point. But you’d seen the way he’d tried to discreetly stretch out his cramp throughout the day, and you were far too stubborn for your own good, so you refused his offer and tried to sleep on the couch for the night.

You huffed a little in pain, shifting uncomfortably. You couldn’t find a position that didn’t make your bandages rub against your wound. You began to feel a dampness slowly seeping through your clothes, and you cursed under your breath.

“No, no, no,” you muttered, pulling your shirt up and surveying your body. You could see where the blood had begun to soak through the bandages again, “Damn it.”

You pushed yourself off the couch and tip-toed across the room. You didn’t want to wake Spencer, especially not in your current state. You kept a hand pressed tightly to your side as you moved, not wanting to get blood on the hotel room’s carpet. The owners were lovely people, and you didn’t want to ruin their day with your mess. Every step made you wince and take a sharp breath as the pain stung you.

A muffled noise from the bed caught your attention, and you saw Spencer begin to stir. He gently said your name as he sat up, staring at you with bleary eyes, “What are you doing?” he looked you up and down, and then his eyes landed on the blood, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you told him, though you clearly weren’t, “I think the stitches came undone, or something. It’s fine,” you waved his worries away, “Go back to sleep.”

Spencer did the opposite. He clambered out of bed, lighting up the room so that you could both see each other. You noticed that, while he slept in a pair of pajamas, the buttons on them were slightly undone towards the top. You’d never noticed that before, and you weren’t too sure why you were noticing it at all.

“You’re not fine,” his eyes were focused on the blood as he stood up and took a step closer to you, “You’re bleeding.”

“Well done, Captain Obvious,” you joked, though you winced again as your little laugh made your side hurt, “I told you, it’s fine. I’ll redress it, and...” you stopped talking as you noticed the look in his eyes. You weren’t entirely sure what it was, but it made your heart thud a little bit faster.

“Let me see.”

“Spencer.”

“You can barely see if yourself, and it’s obviously hurting you,” his sentence was somewhat demanding, and yet there was a soft, concerning tone to his voice, “Let me see. Please.”

You sighed, and gingerly lifted your shirt high enough for him to see it, “It looks worse than it is.”

Spencer gently pulled away the loose bandages and inspected the open wound, his eyes never leaving your body, “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “You’re not patching yourself back up.”

You didn’t have a chance to reply as he darted into the bathroom where you kept the supplies the hospital had given you. Your mouth was hanging open slightly. You’d never heard Spencer talk to you in a tone like this one.

“Here. Sit.” he emerged from the bathroom, patting the space beside him on the bed. His eyes kept darting between your eyes and your blood covered side, “You don’t want it getting worse.”

You hesitated for a moment, “Spencer…” you knew that there was no point arguing with him, and your wound hurt the longer it was left open, “Fine.”

You sat down beside him, your hands curling even tighter around the hem of your shirt as a stinging pain shot through you. It wasn’t the first time Spencer had helped you clean up a wound after you’d been injured in the field, but this time felt a little too different. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” Spencer’s voice was a gentle whisper against your ear, “Sorry.”

Spencer’s touch was so gentle on your skin that it almost didn’t feel as though he was touching you at all. You wouldn’t have been sure if he was touching you at all if not for the way he wrapped the bandages around your so tight that they felt like a strangely comforting hug. 

“There,” Spencer said, almost proudly, “Done.”

You glanced down at your side for a moment before dropping your shirt. It didn’t even seem to hurt anymore, and you noticed that he kept his hands on your hips, “Thanks, Spencer.”

You turned to look at him, and it suddenly felt as if time had come to a standstill. The tension in the air between the two of you was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Your mind seemed to be racing as fast as your heart was.

And, suddenly, your lips were on his. Your brain barely had time to register your own actions, but your body immediately reacted. Your hands found the collar of his pajama shirt and you tugged on it slightly, as if you were trying to pull him closer to you. 

The kiss was tender, and yet it was one that was so full of desire and affection. Warmth flooded your entire body as your stomach seemed to explode with swarms of nervous butterflies. A small part of your brain couldn’t believe that this moment was genuinely happening. You’d thought about this for far too long.

After a few seconds, you pulled away, and only after seeing the startled expression on Spencer’s face and the faint blush that crept up his neck did you realize what you’d done.

“Spencer…” your mouth opened and closed, but no words seemed to come out, “Spencer, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Your panicked ramblings were cut off as Spencer pressed another quick kiss to your lips.

“Shut up,” he smiled at you, and he pressed his index finger to your lips to silence you, “Just… Just shut up, for a minute.”

Spencer had never told you to shut up before. If it were in any other context, you’d be rather offended. In this context, however, you were happy to keep your mouth shut.

“You didn’t mean to, what? You didn’t mean to kiss me?”

“No. I mean… Yes, but also no, but…”

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

You pressed your lips together in a fine line, “Sorry.”

Spencer’s hands left your hips and he took your hands in his own. He squeezed them gently, and he softly drew little circles onto your palms with his thumbs, “You kissed me.”

You were more than ready for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Spencer seemed to notice your discomfort because his grip on your hands tightened, almost as if he was attempting to keep you from running.

“I’m glad you kissed me.”

You couldn’t have stopped the surprised squeak that escaped you even if you’d tried, “What?!”

Spencer chuckled a little at your reaction, and you could see that he was still blushing a slight shade of pink, “I’m glad you kissed me,” he repeated, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, too.”

“You… You…” your mouth was hanging open, and your eyes were wide. You must’ve looked like an absolute idiot, “You have…?”

“Of course, I did, or do, I suppose.”

This conversation was going in an entirely different direction to how you’d assumed it was. You’d never seen Spencer look or talk with so much affection before. It was as if, in that moment, you were the only two people that mattered.

Spencer said your name with so much love in his tone that it snapped you out of your shocked state, “I like you.”

For a single moment in time, it felt as if the world had stopped spinning. You simply stared, unable to do much of anything else. There was a sharp tug at your heart, and a cascade of butterflies filled your stomach.

“You… You do…?”

“Are you capable of putting a sentence together, or not?” Spencer laughed, and he interlaced his fingers with yours, “Yes, I do. A lot, actually,” he smiled at you, and there was a hint of teasing, “And it doesn’t exactly take a genius to work you out.”

You cracked a smile, and your shocked expression gave way to a relieved and delighted one, “I really like you, too.”

“Do you? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Shut up.”

“Shutting up.”

You giggled, and you never giggled. You knew this crush was childish, but this was on another level entirely.

“Are you giggling?”

“No.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Spencer grinned at you, and then his lips connected with yours.

The kiss seemed more affectionate than earlier, and a lot more passionate. Your hands wound around his neck, and his hands found a comfortable resting place on your waist. It was as if you were made to be kissing each other.

It could’ve been seconds, or it could’ve been minutes. You weren’t entirely sure how long it had been, but you eventually pulled away from each other, and you were both a little breathless from the intensity.

You let your forehead rest against Spencer’s, and you smiled, “I hate to ruin the mood and everything, but…” your eyes flitted back and forth to the couch, “Does this mean I don’t have to sleep on the couch, anymore?”

“Absolutely not,” Spencer pulled you a little closer, “You’re never sleeping on a couch ever again.”

“Good,” you smirked at him, and you practically dragged him down onto the bed beside you. You curled into him, letting yourself rest comfortably against his chest, “The bed has better company, anyway.”

Spencer kissed the top of your head, and he ran a gentle hand up and down your back, “Sure does.”

~

“Penelope Garcia! I’m going to kill you!”

You stormed through the halls of the BAU and entered her office, slamming the door open with such a bang that it made the room shudder.

Penelope grinned as she spun around in her chair to face you, “Ah, hello, my sweet angel,” she spoke with a beaming grin on her face, “Do you require my assistance?”

“You little…” you stepped a little closer, though it was hard to look threatening when your face was a deep shade of red, “You gave me and Spencer a room with a single bed?!”

“I did no such thing.”

“Penelope…”

“Ah, my dearest, it’s not me you need to talk to,” she leaned forwards in her chair, as if she had a secret to tell you, “I was the one who booked the rooms, yes, but I wasn’t the one who handed out the keys, was I?”

You hesitated as her words sunk in, and then your mouth dropped open in a mix of shock and humiliation, “You… You mean…”

Penelope grinned. She could practically see the gears turning in your head, and it made her laugh, “Oh, I mean exactly what you’re thinking, sweetie.”

“Hotch set us up?!”

You didn’t even bother to wait for her response. You turned your heel and marched out of her office, leaving Penelope laughing to herself in the background. There was going to be a rampage at the BAU.

“Aaron Hotchner! I’m going to kill you!”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader

[mikavlcs]

Spotlight

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: During an unprompted visit, Wednesday discovers something that you’ve been trying to hide.

Warnings: competetive!wednesday, overuse of parenthesis, this exists outside of canon bc i didn’t wanna come up with characters to replace thornhill and weems lol

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: this was requested by an anon (dino, hi), hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Wednesday could not stand most of the Nevermore population.

Normal teenagers were already grating enough but throw in the various quirks and abilities that came with being an outcast, and you were left with a supernaturally aggravating group of people that Wednesday wanted nothing to do with.

Most of them managed to vex Wednesday without even speaking—their mere presence an irritation to her. And that went for both students and teachers alike. No one was safe from Wednesday’s wrath.

But amongst the outcast-driven chaos and adolescent body odor, she managed to find a few people that she tolerated. Diamonds in the rough (though she would never describe them as that to their faces).

People like Enid, whom she was slowly and unwillingly warming up to, and Eugene, who reminded her too much of her brother for her to not become somewhat attached to him.

Xavier was still able to agitate her by merely being within her immediate vicinity, but he had his rare, fleeting moments of tolerability. Though they started off on the wrong foot, Bianca had earned her respect, solidifying her place on Wednesday’s short list of acquaintances…until they entered fencing class.

And finally, there was you.

A truly unlikely friendship. One that actually began as an initially one-sided academic rivalry.

You were the unfortunate soul that she got assigned to sit next to in a few classes. Because of this, Wednesday found out quickly that you were very smart.

Not as much as Wednesday (no one was), but enough to earn her respect and allow the competitive air between you to form.

She, of course, was winning but you were never far behind, and she refused to let you win.

For your part, you participated in her competition without complaint, but you seemed to do it more out of interest than a need to best Wednesday. Which shifted the dynamic in a way she didn’t expect.

Because unlike Bianca, you didn’t return her insults or instigate fights. You were kind to her. Always. Even when she was anything but kind to you. It made her feel… unpleasant.

So she resolved to stop being excessively rude to you, toning down the insults and leaning into apathy which was her first mistake. Her second was the decision to engage with the small comments you made during class rather than ignoring them outright because once she started lowering the wall between you, she couldn’t help but let it fall a little further each day.

The more she got to know you, the more her indifference morphed into something unrecognizable. The coldness she extended toward you melted, and the acquaintanceship turned into an actual friendship.

It shouldn’t have. In theory, she should have never grown close to you. You were shy, unnaturally clumsy, and you had an absolutely ungodly obsession with puns. But you were also sweet and endearing and pleasant to be around.

It worked in spite of the odds because you somehow exploited the same weakness within her that Enid and Eugene did. A fact that should have upset her but didn’t.

Still, the rivalry, though much friendlier now, endured. Both because Wednesday’s want for challenge never ceased and because you began to enjoy the competition as much as she did.

(Wednesday also enjoyed the look of wonder you had whenever she showed you a perfect test score. But she would never tell you that because you would then think that she was trying to impress you. She wasn’t.)

Whether she was influencing you or not was unclear, but you came out of your shell, matching her usual light insults with playful jabs of your own. Teasing slowly replaced the shy comments you made during class, and you grew just a bit more confident around her.

It only served to warm her up to you further.

The amount of time Wednesday would spend with you outside of class unknowingly increased. And with this newfound closeness, she started to notice some…oddities about your supposed clumsiness.

At first glance, it appeared that you were just chronically uncoordinated—tripping over things that were in plain sight was an everyday occurrence for you—but she discovered that this lack of coordination was a symptom of a greater issue.

That issue being that you had terrible eyesight.

The first time she really picked up on it was while working on a project together outside. You were working under the shade of a tree in the field behind the school and a flash of movement from above caught Wednesday’s eye. She went to inspect it and had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

Thing, the attention seeker that he was, was trying to wave to you from her balcony.

She commented on it so you could wave back and get him to stop, but when you turned, you didn’t wave back. Rather, Wednesday watched as you struggled to find Thing above you, unfocused eyes flitting in every direction without finding their target.

It got to the point where she took pity on you and pointed to where he was hopping on her balcony railing. You waved in his general direction and got right back to work but Wednesday’s mind lingered on the incident.

She began paying more attention to your behaviors in class, the way your eyes squinted, and you had to lean forward slightly when trying to read something that was just a little too far away.

You struggled most in Miss Thornhill’s class, which Wednesday couldn’t really blame you for.

Thornhill moved at a breakneck pace, something Wednesday liked about her class, but she wrote terms in a small, nearly illegible cursive that even her well-trained eyes had trouble deciphering at times. Being assigned to sit at one of the tables near the back surely only exacerbated the problem.

And if it were anyone else, Wednesday would be happy to know that she had a leg up on the competition. But you weren’t anybody else and instead of finding victory or satisfaction in your hardship, she found herself wanting to help you.

An urge she obviously resisted, but it persisted nonetheless.

During a particularly rough class, Wednesday watched as you constantly tried and failed to understand the things written on the whiteboard up front.

You were so distracted with your notes that you made no attempts to tease her, nor did you tell her a single joke. Not even a terrible pun when she sat down in her seat. It bothered her far more than it had any right to.

After class, Wednesday stayed behind longer than usual. You noticed—if the glances you sent her way were anything to go by—but didn’t say anything. That only bothered her more.

She sighed, slid her class notes over to you. “Here.”

Startled, you looked over to her, then to the papers, then back to her.

“You’re letting me borrow your notes?” you asked, astounded.

“Just this once,” she warned, cold eyes piercing. “It would be a shame for one of my only worthy academic rivals in this outcast prison to fall behind because you refuse to act on your eyes’ obvious inadequacies.”

Before you had the time to comment on her admittance of your intelligence, she was swiftly packing her things and walking off. Just before she left the classroom, she heard a bemused, but grateful “Thanks, Wednesday!” called out behind her.

She ignored it, just as she ignored the disgusting fluttering feeling that accompanied it.

-

Unplanned setbacks were nothing new to Wednesday.

Honestly, this one wasn’t even really her fault.

One of the gorgons—tall, loud, and annoying—called her tiny. Him finding three uncovered, full-body mirrors in his dorm bathroom was simply what she would classify as karma.

When confronted she denied any involvement, citing it as “a truly unfortunate accident” but Weems, for all her faults, was no fool.

So now, Wednesday was confined to her dorm room for the week as punishment. Thornhill was stationed outside to make sure Wednesday didn’t leave her room after classes for anything other than meals and extracurriculars.

Wednesday didn’t have the heart to tell Weems that this feeble excuse for “solitary confinement” was more an escape for her than a punishment.

Though it was proving to be an obstacle for her now.

There was a Botany test scheduled for the next day. That was part of the reason why Wednesday chose to lend you her notes. But she wanted to get some studying done before her quickly approaching writing hour, so she had to get them back.

(Not that she needed to study—she had every word written on those papers memorized, but another sweep over its contents wouldn’t hurt. Especially if it guaranteed her a higher score than you.)

She had planned to retrieve them after harvesting hives with Eugene, but now it wouldn’t be that straightforward.

Fortunately, security measures as amateur as having a teacher stand outside her room were as simple for her to bypass as performing an autopsy. Something she could do in her sleep.

“Thing,” she called to her disembodied companion, “fetch me one of my spare grapples and some rope.” When she didn’t hear his tell-tale scuttling, she begrudgingly added a low, “Please.”

The sound of scampering finally reached her ears and Thing appeared beside her, the grapple and rope she requested nestled between his fingers.

She took the items from him and began tying the rope to the grapple’s end. “Thank you, Thing. If Enid returns before I do, then tell her to cover for me.”

He flashed her a thumbs-up and crawled over to Enid’s bed, no doubt intent on raiding her magazine collection.

After knotting the rope, she kicked the window open and ducked onto the balcony, connecting the hooks to the balcony railing. She threw the rope over the edge and gave it a hard tug to make sure it was anchored properly.

The grapple didn’t budge. Satisfied, she grasped the rope, climbed over the railing, and rappelled down to your balcony below with ease, spotting your hunched form through the glass of your window once her feet hit solid ground.

Silently, she pushed the window open, slipped in, and approached you. “Are you finished with my notes?”

You jumped, hard, knees banging against the underside of your desk and scattering your papers. Chest heaving, you spun around, relaxing when you saw her. “Wednesday, oh my god. Don’t scare me like that.”

She would have laughed or given you a sly remark, but she was distracted. Her attention completely taken by the glasses on your face.

The sleek, thin frames sat steadily on the bridge of your nose. She despised how she noticed the way the color accentuated your eyes. Even more so, she hated how she couldn’t deny that they looked…nice on you.

How unfortunate.

“So you do own a pair of glasses.” The words slipped from her lips as her eyes traced them for the fifth time.

You paused, then settled back against your chair, hands moving to reorganize your jumbled notes as you avoided Wednesday’s eyes.

“Two actually.”

Confusion coursed through her. You had the solution to your problem within your grasp this entire time, yet you decided to not use them? It made no logical sense.

“Then why don’t you wear them to class?”

“I-“ you sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“More stupid than knowingly impairing yourself and your performance in your classes?” Wednesday deadpanned. You stayed silent. She exhaled. “I vow not to use the information to blackmail you in the future if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The promise pulled an airy chuckle from you, and she cursed the warmth it spawned deep within her chest. “I actually wasn’t worried about that, but thank you for the assurance anyways, Wednesday.”

Wednesday gave you a nod and kept her eyes on you. Her expectant gaze didn’t go unanswered for much longer. Your eyes moved to the floor, apparently finding your socks a more interesting sight than her. Not that she cared.

“It’s just-I don’t like the way they look,” you admitted, soft and unsure. “I know you don’t care about others’ opinions but I’m not like that. I’m afraid people will laugh at me if I wear them outside of here. You probably think that’s stupid.”

You were right, she did think that was stupid. Because it was. She knew that insecurities were rarely rooted in logic, but this was just ridiculous. Ridiculous enough that she had to unpack it in steps.

First, the idea that anyone would laugh about you wearing glasses was odd. Thornhill and Eugene wore glasses without issue or ridicule. And if the vampires could walk around in their moronic sunglasses with no shame, then you should have no problem traversing the halls with your glasses.

And second, the ludicrous idea of yours that you looked bad with them on. If anyone were to see you now and say that you looked bad, she would question their own need for glasses.

Even she couldn’t find a single negative adjective to describe how they looked on you. In fact, she was having the exact opposite issue.

Wednesday debated just not saying anything in case she let her unsavory feelings slip accidentally, but she didn’t like how downtrodden you looked. Especially when it was because of something as insignificant as this.

“Well, if you’re going to listen to anyone’s opinions then listen to mine since you know I’m always correct.” The tiny smile that crept onto your face threatened to derail her thoughts, but she pressed on. “I think that you should wear them more often, and if anyone laughs, I will personally see to it that it’s the last sound that they ever make.”

You looked up, surprise flashing across your features. “Really?”

“Considering you literally need them to see, it just makes good sense to wear them, does it not?” she drawled out evenly. Seeing your remaining hesitance, she continued. “And in spite of what you may believe, they don’t make you look any worse than you normally do.”

Despite the blatant insult she included to try and distract you, your face lit up. Wednesday nearly looked away. “You don’t think they look bad?”

“No. I think they frame your face quite nicely actually.”

She didn’t catch her mistake, too busy fighting off the heat spreading in her cheeks to notice her fatal word choice. But you did. You gasped, a wide smile pulling at your lips. “Was…was that a pun?”

The words hit Wednesday like a punch to the stomach. She recoiled slightly, but knowing she couldn’t take it back she heaved a heavy, defeated sigh. “Not an intentional one.”

“Oh my god,” you said through a burst of giggles, “I can’t believe Wednesday Addams just made a pun.”

“Please stop pointing out my linguistic shortcoming. I hate being reminded of my personal failures,” she grumbled, trying to minimize the damage as much as possible. But you paid her plea no mind.

Your soft laughter filled the dorm, a melody almost as pleasant to Wednesday’s ears as the ones she played on her cello. The radiance you exuded in that moment was overwhelming.

She should have been upset with you, she really should have, but she could muster no negative feelings in the face of your unbridled joy. Even if it was at her expense.

So she let you have this victory. Just this once.

And maybe, just maybe Wednesday would be willing to accept defeat more often if it meant seeing you like this.

#pretending tyler doesn't exist is practically my full-time job at this point #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega

[adisillusionedauthor]

Could you do fic for Checo with wife reader where she's Max's older sister and she just worried for them because of how the races could turned badly in a matter of second? Add something you'd like though. Thanks! :)

Fearful Velocity - Sergio Pérez and Max Verstappen

Requested by: Anon

Masterlist<3

Pairing: Checo x spouse!GN!reader, Max x Sibling!reader

Warning: OOC Checo, OOC Max, fluff, sweet, concern about loved ones, Max being a sweetie, Checo being a sweetie and bad english

Word count: 713

The team always tries to make everything very comfortable for me when I go see the races in person, being the married and related to their drivers I get some sort of princess treatment, but it somehow doesn’t help the aching feeling that something is going to happen, I shake the thought off of my head once i realize Checo is walking towards me, I start to smile at him opening my arms for him, hoping he’d hug me. 

Of course he obliges and pulls me into a tight hug, since I’m sitting down my head rests comfortably on his chest and he rests his on top of my head, not before giving the top of head a kiss: “You’ve got that look on your face…” He says into my hair softly, I let out a sigh, nothing happens to me without this man noticing: “Is it the usual?” He asks with a knowing look on his face, I’ve shared my concerns with him, even asked him to retire once Sebastian said he’d be leaving F1, but it didn’t work, he wants to race longer; “Yup… It’s like this every weekend that there’s a race, but this time… It feels different, like something is going to happen…” I say, sharing this strange feeling makes my chest somehow feel lighter, Sergio pulls me even closer if that’s even possible, but before he could say something we could hear my younger brother’s voice saying “Ew!” from behind him, Checo turns with an more serious look which makes Max realize I’m worrying over them again.

He comes hug me for a while on Checo’s place while he goes get ready for today, Max keeps telling me that serious accidents barely ever happen, that there’s no need for me to get so stressed over this, today is supposed to be a day where I can take a breath and see my boys enjoy themselves on the track and he’s right, it feels weird even thinking about this: “I’m sorry for worrying so much, it’s just… I still see you as that boy who still raced in a kart, it’s weird seeing the little boy I held in my arms accomplish so much… I’m proud of you Max, truly proud” I say smiling at him proudly, in my heart he’ll always that baby my parents brought home when I was still two, he’ll always be my little brother, no matter how many championships he wins or how many podiums he gets: “Don’t you dare say stuff that’ll make me tear up right before a race, I can’t cry now, Y/N” He says while his eyes get glossy with tears, i hug him even closer and then Checo comes back to get Max to get ready for the race: “So… Feeling better about today, mi amor?” He knows that nickname is my doom, I melt into his arms as his fingers run into my hair soothing me even more: “You’re a very unfair man, Mr. Pérez…” I say resting my head onto his shoulder and he laughs gently: “Oh really? Or maybe I just know exactly what I need to do to calm my wife, Mrs. Pérez.”

I blush softly at his words, I’ve been his wife for four years, but everytime he calls me that I feel like I did on our first date, my smile turns even more soft and I answer him: “Maybe… But just maybe, you’ve helped a lot, darling” He smiles back at me happy that he could help me feel a little more safe about him and my brother racing, he gives me three kissed like he always does when he’s about to go race, one on  my forehead promising to keep me on his mind during the race, one on my cheek promising to never let me go and finally one on my lips promising to always love me, I kiss him back showing just as much love as he is into the kiss, when Max comes to call him so they can enter the car and go to the line up, I don’t feel as anxious as I did on the beginning of the day, because I know that they’ll both be okay and if something does happen they’ll have me to take care of them and nurse them back into healthiness just so i can scold them. 

#f1 fanfic #fanfic #fluff #formula 1 #checo perez x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #sergio perez x reader #checo #checo fanfic #happy #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #younger brother #older sister #worry #cute #family #happy family #f1 imagine #f1 fic #sergio perez #checo perez #formula one #formula #red bull racing #red bull f1 #red bull formula 1 #red bull team #rbr

[ghcstao3]

been on a hunger games kick lately so. ghoapifying time!! yippee yahoo

(edit: extra because i felt a little silly)

-

Simon isn’t much when his name is reaped, just days after he’d turned 18. He’s scrawny, starved, scarred—being from District 10, the only thing he’s ever known is butchery, so maybe he’s of use with knives, but it really means nothing to him. Not when his older brother Tommy had gotten killed by Peacekeepers, not when his mother had died of illness, not when his father couldn’t give less of a shit when his youngest son is sent to die.

So all he can do is accept his fate. All he can do is listen to his mentor, train in the fleeting days he has left, and try to survive. No matter if the odds would never, ever be in his favour.

Simon doesn’t remember much from the days leading to the games. All he can really recall is the absurd pageantry and the lack of privacy, though it had been nice to be freed from the stench of blood, if only for a few days. It was nice, not having grime beneath his fingernails.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t remember much from the Games, either. Simon hadn’t made allies, didn’t need to—even his necessary loyalty to the girl from his district was tentative at best. She would still come down to being another competitor, in the end. Simon didn’t want to die, he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

And he doesn’t. He wins, somehow—maybe out of spite. Maybe out of fear, or out of vengeance. Simon doesn’t know.

All he knows is that he hates the man he’d become in that arena.

* * *

Johnny was born and raised in the Capitol. Maybe not in a family that was the richest of the rich, but still much better off than anyone found in the districts. He’s only ever known some sense of luxury, has never encountered the cruelty of the real world, and continues to stand to benefit from the pain of others.

But even then, he does eventually recognize the faults and evilness of the system.

Eventually.

Because as a boy, he had loved the Games. Before having any sense of consequence or the realness of these people and their deaths, Johnny had been just as enraptured by it all as everyone else. He watched with interest, just as entertained as he was meant to be. The Games had been awe-inspiring to him as they are to most other Capitol children.

He still remembers Simon’s game. Ghost, as the boy from District 10 had been called, having earned the nickname from an uncanny ability to seemingly appear out of nowhere and make that cannon fire one more time. Johnny had been 15, then, still an avid watcher of this slaughter-show—but he’ll always recall that game the most, because of Simon.

Simon was shy, and awkward—but the Capitol had loved it. Loved him. And Johnny had just as well, albeit for some different reasons. Because along with everything the Capitol admired about Simon (which was mostly superficial), Johnny admired his resilience. His persistence, his triumph. He had thought, back then, that he could only ever wish to be like the boy from District 10. He’d never been so enamoured with a tribute, a victor like that before.

That was seven years ago, and things have since… changed. Not enough to be different, but enough for Johnny to notice. Enough for him to finally understand that these Games are far more than he had ever been led to believe. He just didn’t know to what extent.

Johnny is freshly 22 when he meets Simon. A friend of Johnny’s (in the loosest of terms), Philip Graves, tells him that he’d gotten a special birthday gift for Johnny that year—and while usually Johnny might be skeptical or uncaring, given Graves’ track record, it’s what he says about this gift that has Johnny… panicking?

“Remember that victor you used to have a crush on? Well, I finally managed to get in a request.”

Before Johnny can ask what he means, two Peacekeepers—escorts—are entering the room with Simon in tow.

Graves grins almost predatorily before standing and patting Johnny on the shoulder like he means to be friendly. Like he thinks he’s given Johnny all he could ask for.

And in maybe some sense he has, but not like this. Not like this.

“Enjoy the next few days, Johnny,” Graves is saying. “He’s all yours.”

Johnny thinks he might be sick. The threat of bile in his throat only grows more intense one he’s left alone with Simon.

The victor looks… different, since his time in the public eye. Bulkier, likely from a steady supply of food for the first time in his life; objectively healthier. Skin smooth, porcelain, like he hadn’t seen a day of suffering in his life. Every aspect of him perfectly tailored, manicured, prim, like a clean slate for his current proprietor.

He still has that rugged kind of handsomeness to him, though. The Capitol could change many things, but they could never take that look of fierce determination from his dark, knowing eyes.

“How do you want me?” Simon asks softly. Johnny can tell there’s still fight thrumming beneath his skin, but they both could guess what would happen if that were to be let free.

“I… don’t,” Johnny says before he can help himself. At the shift in Simon’s expression he feels his heart drop, so he adds quickly, “Sorry, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that. I just never realized…”

Simon tilts his head, curious, assessing. “Never realized what?”

“That you…” Johnny swallows hard. He takes a shuddering breath, nervous, like he isn’t the one with more power here. Like he’s the prey—and maybe he is. “Could be bought.”

Simon shrugs a shoulder, nonchalant like the idea of being bought and sold like an object is hardly a bother to him. There’s hurt in those eyes, but it doesn’t live anywhere else on his face. “There’s a lot of things you might not know outside of your world of luxury.”

Johnny’s gaze falls the floor. “Yes,” he sighs. “I’m sure there is.”

A tense silence falls over them, for just a moment, before Simon is shuffling across the room to join Johnny on the sofa. He sits close, but doesn’t touch.

“So,” Simon’s insisting, “how do you want me?”

Johnny doesn’t know if he’ll survive these next few days.

Perhaps he should at least be grateful that the transaction is on Graves’ hands.

#do i have permission to go into detail about ghost’s game #i am having. Thoughts #or whole fic? mayhap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing

[throneofsapphics]

haunt me like the wind that blows 

Feysand x f!Reader 

(part two) (part three)

Summary: She yanked her hand from his grasp, taking a few steps backward. The fight was futile, there was no winning in this scenario, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: dark feysand, abusive relationships, mentions of injuries, stalking, mention of suicidal ideation, yandere maybe?, not proofread, blood, death/murder

A/N: mind the warnings!

It had been one year, two months, and five days since she left. She counted every single one, because every single one was filled with memories of their love, their lies, and the fear they might find her. And what might happen when they do. If, she told herself, if they do. Something in her gut, maybe an instinct, told her it was inevitable they would find her someday. But she held onto the hope, the possibility that after a year they would give up. 

She ran as far as she reasonably could, to a small and barely known village in the mountains of Vallahan- one that welcomed her without question. She disguised her accent and her magic hid the presence of the mating bond. In the state she showed up in - shaking, pale, and underfed from weeks of rough travel, nobody questioned her. She used a vague backstory - escaping a bad relationship, being raised in a poor family, working as an herbalist. All of those facts are true, and she fed just enough information to escape suspicion. 

Still, she knew if any of them thought she was the mate of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court, they’d turn her over to them without any question. People's goodness only ran so far. 

They told her they loved her, but kept her so tightly under key that she suffocated. Friends she’d had for years, suddenly felt the need to move away from Velaris. She managed to keep her own business for a few years.

First, they started telling her she didn’t need it, not with them there to provide for her. She told them she liked it, enjoyed working. That satisfied them for a while, until Feyre came in at the end of the day, finding a male flirting with her as she tried to deflect his attention. 

Rhys was there in seconds and she watched in horror as he died on the floor of the shop she built from the ground up. No matter how much she begged them, pleaded for them to stop, they wouldn’t and blood pooled across the floor, soaking into the wood. All traces of blood were removed, all evidence of the male's existence, but she knew it was there, and scented it each time she entered.

She shakily held on to it for a few months. They started mentioning things that happened during her day - things they weren’t present for, and she realized they either sorted through her mind or had somehow hidden themselves in her shop. They showed up from time to time and she never had any idea when they would. Anxiety filled her each day, and she started working on building her mental walls - in secret, hoping it would help her compartmentalize and shove some of that fear down. 

They commented how she looked worn down at the end of each day, how bags started forming under her eyes, how she grew more skittish. All things she knew, but hearing them stung. They convinced her working was too much, that it was her job affecting her health.

Eventually, they gave her an ultimatum. Quit and sell the shop, or we’ll make you. But, an ultimatum implied having a choice - that there would be two different endings, and in this case both scenarios ended the same way. The next day, fliers for sale went up and the shop sold quickly, being prime real estate in Velaris. 

She watched as the door was painted over - yellow instead of blue, and changed to a small clothing boutique. She wondered if the new owners felt that male presence. One who tried to flirt with the wrong female at the wrong place and time. Innocent flirting, flirting that meant nothing to her but cost him his life.

The first time she threw mental walls up around Rhys, finally recognizing the gentle caress of him slipping inside, he ripped them down brutally. She was left with a headache and hand shaped bruises littering her backside for a week. 

They mixed their love for her with lies. How they were protecting her, how they did it for her benefit, that all they wanted was for her to be happy. 

The happy memories haunted her the most, the ones of flights between mountains - both with Rhys and Feyre. Wind whipping through their hair, the smiles on their faces as they pointed out various things, the skyline of Velaris from above.

Now, each brush of the wind against her skin felt like a threat from them. Every audible beat of a bird’s wing made her shudder. It took a while for her to stop hiding when she heard them, or when the wind swept in a strange direction.  

She debated her decision every day. But, every time she took a walk through the mountains, interacted with someone new, created a different kind of tonic or poultice, she felt the freedom rush through her. The right decision, a decision she would make again if she had to. No matter how much her soul tore from being separated from her mates, she’d chosen herself. Maybe not happiness, but freedom. She'd never chosen them, the Cauldron put them together and she reminded herself often it doesn't mean they're a perfect match.

-

A knock sounded against the door and she cursed. The book was reaching its climax after five hundred pages of slowly building plot. It was late - almost sundown in the middle of summer, but she never knew if it was someone needing some kind of tonic or healing herbs and a sense of guilt motivated her to always answer the door. Another thump of fist on wood drew her from her thoughts, sending her rushing from the door, her page quickly marked with a random scrap of paper.

She undid the lock, swinging the door open. Her heart beat rose so quickly she thought she might pass out. After over a year, Rhys stood right outside her door, hands tucked into his pockets. He’d hidden his scent, and put the strongest damper on his power possible. Still, a dark storm raged in his eyes upon seeing her. 

Futily, she tried to slam the door, but a small wave of darkness shoved it back open. She didn’t try to scream, anyone she attracted would probably end up with their minds wiped - or dead. 

“Good girl.” He murmured when she stepped aside. She swallowed harshly as he entered, his eyes scanning the room. It was over. Her year of freedom was over. The High Lord of the Night Court found her, deep in the mountains of Vallahan, a village not even marked on maps. 

“You need to go.” Her voice was hoarse and shaking, betraying her fear. 

He let out a dark chuckle. “No,” his hand shot out quick as an asp, grasping her wrist to pull her close to him. His thumb traced over her bottom lip. “I won’t be going anywhere without you.” 

She yanked her hand from his grasp, taking a few steps backward. The fight was futile, there was no winning in this scenario, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. “I want you to leave. Leave me alone.” 

His amusement faded. “You’ve always been a stubborn brat.” 

Her body shook with fear and rage. How dare he come in here, barge in on the life she created, and try to rip her away. “Go.” She pointed to the door. “I don’t want you, either of you." She knows Feyre is probably listening, watching in through his mind.  

The last sentence was a lie. Her body and soul wanted them, yearned to be with them, but she fought it at every step, and he knew it. “Liar,” he purred and she felt power begin to rumble from him. Anger was loosening his control. 

She tilted her chin up, clenching her fists at her side. “I don’t want you more than I want my freedom.” 

“Freedom?” He tilted his head. “Being with your mates is a privilege. So many don’t find theirs or don’t have one - let alone two.” 

A privilege. That was new. “I don’t care,” she spat, stepping around to open a path to the door, a path for him. She threw up every mental barrier she could, every bit of practice she’d put in every single day. If she left, it would be kicking and screaming and in her own mind. Sure enough, she felt him tapping against it - and saw the impressed expression that crossed his face, quickly overtaken by rage. Rage that she locked him out. 

He somehow mastered it, and strolled over towards the couch, picking up the book she left, twisting it over to read the description. Having him in here felt like a violation. But - his current distraction could help. She slowly backed towards the door, reaching her hand out to grab the door knob - only met with a shield that stung her fingertips. She hissed, sucking her fingers in her mouth to try and get rid of the burn. 

“I told you I won’t be leaving without you.” Rhys’s voice was mild. A mild she recognized - the same tone of his voice before he murdered that male for flirting with her, for touching her arm. A particular tone that haunted her nightmares. “I can give you five minutes to grab whatever you’d like, or we can go now.” 

Now, with nothing but the clothes on her back. Her own magic wasn’t strong enough to rip through his, and she already knew he’d cast a shield to keep her from winnowing away. Gods, she should have winnowed the moment he haunted her doorstep. 

“I thought you would stop looking,” she stalled, trying to buy herself time to figure something out. 

“You’re foolish.” Foolish. Like she was some child in need of scolding. He glanced at the clock hanging above her fireplace. “You have four minutes.” 

“Why do this? Why drag me back?” She questioned. 

“Because you’re ours. You’re part of us.” 

“I don’t want to be.” Y/n snapped, her temper finally flaring. 

Rhys’s eyes flashed. “Watch your tone.” 

“What good will that do me?” She laughed hysterically, “this all ends the same way.” 

“You could make it less painful for yourself.” 

There would be pain - there would be hell to pay, she knew that, and knew they had a plethora of ideas for how to make her pay for this. She could think of one way, only one way to escape. A permanent freedom from them, until they found her in the next life … her eyes glanced at the knife ten feet away, on her kitchen table. 

Her shields must’ve dropped for just a moment, because Rhys’s voice reverberated through her mind, "absolutely not". But, his voice tinged with fear. A sick sort of satisfaction came over her after she shoved him out, that she could put some kind of fear in him, no matter how sickening the circumstances or reasons. 

“Two minutes,” he hissed, “but I’m done waiting.” 

She didn’t move quick enough to escape his grasp. His grip was painful as he winnowed them, a series of jumps all the way back to the Night Court, back to her gilded cage, her shiny prison. 

#acotar fic #feysand x y/n #feysand x reader #dark!feysand #poly!feysand x y/n #poly!feysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #feyre archeron x y/n #feyre archeron x reader #I need to stop writing and sleep why is this coming out of my brain

[tobylovesspence]

ok but miles Fairchild fucking his sisters babysitter 🤭

Ok but I love this idea 🤭 I really tried to do it justice

Miles Fairchild x babysitting!FEM!reader

Contents: smut, the use of the word princess towards the reader, lightly dominant Miles, overstimulation

Miles had a streak for running off babysitters in the area so well that no adult would take the job of babysitting Flora. You, however, needed the extra money and we're Miles age so you weren't very fearful of the kid, more confused how some preppy school boy had scared off several adult women. You had decided to take the job of babysitting Flora and tutoring her and so Ms.Grose let you stay in a guest room which you thought was sweet of her even though she seemed quite stoic.

After a couple weeks Miles had yet to show any "aggressive" or "destructive" tendencies those other babysitters of Flora had told you about when you took the job. He was actually quite sweet toward you. "Flora you wanna play hide and seek?" Miles had asked as you stepped into the room, "oooh yes. Y/n you should join!" Miles smiled at you, as if he was truly hoping you would. "Sure, that sounds like a fun way to spend the day!" Miles grinned, telling Flora he would be it. You had told Flora to hide well before running off toward your room, hiding in the spare room connected to your own, you assumed it was a sewing room.

After a few minutes you heard footsteps enter your room and you held your breath, smiling to yourself at your hiding skills. The door knob slowly turned and you held your breath. "Hello princess." Miles said as he stepped into the room, you crouched further into your hiding spot behind a mannequin. You watched his feet step across the floor when a loud sound hit the wall and you quickly looked toward the sound. You saw a tennis ball roll across the floor. Shit. "Hi sweetheart!~" you turned around quickly. "You win." You defeatedly stood up. "No actually Flora's still hiding." He had stepped closer and you had stepped back toward the table in the center of the room.

You suddenly felt hot and stiff from his gaze alone. You took a hesitant step back and he took a confident step forward before putting his hand under your thighs and lifting you onto the table. "Miles..." He smirked at your desperately quiet voice. "Yes hunny?" His voice was so sultry, it was quiet as he egged you on, he wanted you to beg, fall apart in his hands. "Miles please" he tsched at you, "Please what sweetheart? You know I can give you what you want if I don't know what it is." You moaned quietly as he massaged your thighs. "Please Miles I want-" your eyes started to water, shame, at the way you were begging for him, washing over you. "You want what Y/n?" "I want you!" It was quick, a little loud.

You had gotten impatient and clearly he had too as right after you had spoken he had grabbed you and carried you to your bed, dropping you on it. He locked your bedroom door and stood at the end of the bed right between your legs. Miles softly pushed your skirt up, pulling your panties slowly down your legs. "Oh god" he groaned at the trail of slick between your panties and your folds. "You look so pretty for me hunny, and soo wet" Miles experimented with how far he could go as he rubbed two fingers up and down your folds, collecting your wet arousal on his fingers. He slowly pushed them into your entrance as you, groaned loudly. He slowly began to speed of his pace and began to finger you, his fingers covering in your slick. "Good job princess, you're taking this so well." Your core began to feel warm, you knew what was coming but then Miles quit his actions and pulled his fingers out of your pussy with a pop. "Miles..." You whined, your ball of tension slowly relieving. "Calm down princess, you'll get what you want soon enough."

How true could that be, you got what you wanted several times. Somehow you had been here for almost half an hour with Miles thrusting into you, making your head spin and your legs shake. You didn't even know how many times you had cum anymore as Miles had your leg over his shoulder and his hand over your mouth "good job princess, you're doing so good for me" your eyes rolled back into your head as he spoke in his mumbled whimper and you came on his cock again. "Miles it's too much" you can handle it princess, you've got this." You were too cock drunk to do anything but whimper as your overstimulated hole clamped around his dick as he thrust up into you, his hips began to stutter as he began to get close to his release once again. He groaned quietly cumming in your pussy as you whimpered and came once more yourself.

You both laid on your bed, panting and trying to calm your beating hearts. "Y/n? " Oh shit. It was Flora at your door, she tried to turn the knob but it was locked. You whimpered quietly before stuttering out a response of yes Flora. "I can't find Miles. He flinched beside you. "I think he gave up looking and went out to the stables." You heard her sigh "ok I'll go look for him" you had replied ok Flora and Miles had gotten up to get dressed. "I hate you." He laughed, "I love you too hun." He kissed your lips softly. "Do you think I could lay with you tonight?" It was your turn to laugh. "After all of that? You'd better!"

#miles fairchild angst #miles fairchild smut #miles fairchild x reader #miles fairchild

[lanabuckybarnes]

MASTERLIST

WORKS

Empty Words - FLUFF/ANGST

Sargent Bucky Barnes finds himself enthralled by the new nurse. Luckily for him his courting pays off. Follow them as they share their days at the barracks together.

◈◉◈

Always - ANGST/FLUFF

The sequel of Empty Words. It’s been too long without him, she hurts everyday. One day when the Compound is under attack she finds herself facing the man she’d thought she never see again.

◈◉◈

Bucky Makes you a meal - FLUFF

An International Woman’s Day special! Bucky Barnes finds out from Natasha that since his time as the Winter Soldier women’s rights have been improving, along with those rights came a day solely for the girls. Since you were away on a mission the day of IWS Bucky makes you a meal the following day to celebrate.

◈◉◈

Tha Gaol Agam Ort - FLUFF

Bucky makes an unlikely friend in the new Scottish avenger, after spending months around her constantly he can confidently say he knows most of what she’s saying. What Bucky is hiding, not very well mind you, is his secret crush on her. Will he confess?

◈◉◈

Gift Wrapped - SMUT

Sargent Bucky Barnes celebrates his rescue by enjoying a couple drinks at a bar, where he notices his girl is paying a little too much attention to his uniform.

◈◉◈

Can’t Sleep? - FLUFF

You spend the early mornings doom scrolling through Tik Tok when you’re supposed to be asleep, Bucky changes that.

◈◉◈

Possessive Bucky - SMUT

You two are undercover, part of your disguise is a long black dress that wraps around you in all the right places— Bucky can’t help the way his jaw clenches and cock hardens.

◈◉◈

Missed Dates - FLUFF/ANGST

You and Bucky have been distant lately, the government making sure his missions were as long and as far away as possible. To make up for it he organises a date the same day he finishes his mission.

◈◉◈

Damn Bear - SMUT

Sgt Barnes wins you a bear at a carnival. What he doesn’t expect nor like is when you give it more attention, Bucky shows you that’s he’s better than the bear.

◈◉◈

Kitty Cat - FLUFF

Bucky is compromised during a mission, sending him back into the mindset of the winter soldier. When he makes a break for it he ends up back at your house. Who will help him revert?

◈◉◈

Sergeants Got You - SMUT

You’re stressed, he knows exactly how to make you feel better.

◈◉◈

Winter’s Girl - SMUT

Could you imagine being a scientist on the winter soldier program, your task is to make sure he’s at 100% before every mission. This time though, when you enter his holding cell he’s nowhere to be found.

◈◉◈

DRABBLES

Fucking You (literally) - SMUT

A small collection of the different ways the different Bucky’s would ruin you ;).

◈◉◈

Actor Bucky - SMUT

A Drabble of Actor bucky and his love for your dress.

◈◉◈

Back in Time - FLUFF

A Drabble of a scenario I had in my head for a long time. After the blip the Avengers came up with the idea of travelling back in time to retrieve the stones. You, Steve and Tony are unsuccessful but are desperate to get it— so you travel back to the 1940’s, before Bucky’s train accident. What will happen when you somehow find yourself fighting off a huddle of men?

◈◉◈

Waking up with Sargent Barnes - FLUFF

A Drabble of mines. After an eventful night you find yourself waking up in Sgt Barnes’ warm embrace, unfortunately for you, you had agreed to meet Steve for milkshakes.

◈◉◈

Domming Beefy Bucky - SMUT

A Drabble where I explore my deepest fantasies of dining the absolutely huge Bucky, he’s too big not to dominate.

◈◉◈

(I do not own any photos, credits to owners)

[sunny44]

Daddy’s girl

Pairing: Mason Mount x Mom!reader

Warnings: just fluff.

Summary: you and Mason decided it was time to take baby Olivia to her first Chelsea game and it goes better than the expected.

Today would be the first time we would take Olivia to see Mason playing.

She had gone when I was pregnant and once and then I stopped going because of my difficult pregnancy and after she was born I stared getting a lot of hate online saying horrible things about the baby so we decides that we were taking her when she could walk by herself.

And today is the day.

Mason was already at the stadium and I would go along with his family who were downstairs waiting for us.

"Are you excited to see daddy?" As soon as I mention Mason she gets up and starts jumping on the bed "I guess that’s a yes."

I finished putting on her Jersey with the Mount and the number 19 on the back, she was wearing her Chelsea uniform and her little Nike air.

"We need to pin your hair up." I spoke to her but Olivia was distracted playing with Mason’s socks she had found on the bed. "My God you really are his daughter."

I've made two buns on her and took her on my lap down the stairs to find his family already waiting for us.

"I'm sorry it took so long, she have Mason’s energy."

"No problem honey you have you and mini Mase to dress up." His mother smiles at us leaving the house.

I went in the car with his parents and we were driven to where we were going to watch the game but right at the entrance Olivia saw a huge picture of Mason and she ran screaming “daddy” and hugged herself to the wall. The scene was the cutest thing in the world and it was a shame that I couldn't record it and show it to him later.

When the players entered the field and the big screen was showing them, Olivia screamed as soon as she saw her father.

…

The game was wonderful and Chelsea won it, Olivia spent much of the time screaming and every time the screen showed Mason she celebrated seeing him and the people watching us probably knew she was his daughter since some of them started to take pictures or record us.

After we were free we went to the field, Olivia was on my lap super excited to see everyone including some of her football uncles as I like to call them.

"Look there baby is Uncle Kai, go give him a big hug." She laughed and ran over to him since she hadn't found Mason yet.

"Hi love." He says hugging me from behind.

"Oh my god Mason you scared me." He laughs and I turn to him. "You were amazing I’m so proud of you."

"Thank you." He kisses me. "Where's Oli?"

"She went to give Kai a hug." I pointed to her on his lap and a few other players along making her laugh.

Her relationship with Kai was funny because Olivia was a miniature of Mason, super energetic and likes to talk to everyone and Kai was serious most of the time and not the most affectionate person when it comes to physical touch.

"Olivia." At the same time he calls out and even with all the noise she somehow seems to hear and cracked the biggest smile when she saw him. "Hey baby girl."

"Daddy." She shouts as he picks her up on his lap.

"Did you have fun?" she agrees and he puts her on his shoulders.

I took some pictures of her on his shoulder and lap and then some of them playing with the ball.

"The guys are going out for dinner to celebrate the win, do you want to go?" He asks. "Some of their girlfriend’s are going."

"We can go yes but can you take me somewhere I can change her? This uniform of her smells like horrible and she didn't even play." He laughs.

"I need to shower and get change so I'll take advantage of that and give her a bath in the locker room."

"Alright, let’s say goodbye to your family and I'll separate some clean clothes for her."

We said goodbye to his family and Mason went with Olivia to the locker room, I separated an outfit for her and I obviously wasn't going to go in and risk seeing things I shouldn't have so I knocked on the door and Ben opened it.

“Is everything ok?" He asked worriedly.

"Yeah it's just that Mason is giving Oli a sower so we can go out and meet up with you guys and I wanted to ask someone to give him her clothes."

"Why didn’t you come in?"

"Because I don't want to see your things." He laughs and yells asking if anyone was naked and since they said no I went in. "The only one who might be naked is Mason but considering you have a daughter with him at least once you saw him naked."

I rolled my eyes at his comment and soon Mason let me know she was ready and handed her to me, he went to shower and I was drying and dressing her. When she was dry and in her diaper she got up from the bench and started running after Reece and Christian.

"Oli come back here."

"No." She ran and stretched her arms out to Kai’s who grabbed her in his lap and she hid in his neck.

"Are you hungry?" At the same time she gives me a quick look and I swear I've never seen a little girl as hungry as this one. "Where we're having dinner they have that pasta you like.”

She quickly holds out her hands to me and Kai laughs at how quickly she comes onto my lap. I dressed her I a white blouse and some leggings and a coat that Ben gave it to her.

"Mason I'm going to wait with Oli in the cafeteria."

"Okay love I'm just finishing up and I'll meet you guys there.”

Me, Olivia and a few more of the boys left with me and we went to the cafeteria to wait until Mason was ready to go to dinner.

Dinner was great and right after we ate Oli fell asleep and is sleeping until now, she spent the whole time jumping from lap to lap until she stopped at Mason's where she didn't let go of him and now we are going to the car with her on his lap.

"Wow you don't know how amazing today was." He comments smiling. "Oli went to her first game, we won and I am the luckiest guy in the world to share life with you."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it and Oli loved it." I put the bags on her in the backseat as he adjusts her in the car seat. "You know that giant picture of you outside the stadium?"

"I do."

"I couldn't record it because it all happened so fast but Oli as soon as she saw it ran out screaming daddy and hugged the wall." He laughed and left a little kiss on her forehead and covered her with her binky.

"You have no idea how much I love this little girl." He says starting the car and beginning to drive towards our house.

"She loves you too, every time you appeared on the screen she screamed and clapped her hands calling for you."

"Thank you for taking her today, it meant a lot to me." He takes my hand and leaves a kiss on the top of my hand.” I know it’s not easy to have a public life and I really appreciate you so much for loving me and doing all those sacrifices for our family. And I also know that it was not easy to take her today because now people know how she looks but I really love it, so thank you.

"No need to thank me, you know I would do anything for you." He smiles and we went home after this amazing day.

Bonus scene!

Y/nmount instagram post

Liked by masonmount, jazbenham, benchilwell and others 18,947

Y/nmount our baby girl went to her first game to cheer for daddy and her uncles

Masonmount my little lucky charm, daddy loves you so much

Debbiemount she was the cutest fan

Benchilwell I’m giving her a jersey with my name and number on it

Masonmount I’m throwing away

Y/nmount she’s going to love it ben, thank you

Fan65 we’re finally able to say that baby mount looks exactly like Mason

Y/nlovers yesssss, she’s all him

#ben chilwell #chelsea fc #christian pulisic #england nt #chelsea football club #mason mount x oc #mason mount one shot #mason mount x you #mason mount drabble #mason mount x reader #mason mount request #mason mount #mason mount edit #mason mount imagine #mason mount x y/n #mason mount icons #mason mount instagram au #mason mount angst #mason mount scenarios #mason mount smut #mason mount series #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount gif #mason mount chelsea #mason mount concept #mason mount blurb #chelsea football team #england national football team #england

[munv]

𝗜𝗠𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡 𝗘𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗦𝗬

𝗜𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗕𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗟𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗜𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝗦𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗲𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗷𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘆 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂? 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗼?

P5

The birds were chirping, the sun peaked out from the kitchen window and poured into your connected living room, and peace drifted through the air with grace..yet..you groaned. Now, you weren't an all-time rounded apathetic person, unlike your younger brother you actually learned to show interest but it's not like you wore your heart on your sleeve either. 

However, in the face of school, you couldn't help but show discontent. Grumbling as you ate the eggs from your plate that you cooked earlier somewhere in the corner of your eye your little brother looked more than ready to pounce on you. Don't get it wrong. You knew exactly why..you just refused to acknowledge his apparent irritation,

"you said you'd play soccer with me." He stabbed his fork right into the omelet and watched whatever was in it run out. You sweatdropped at this revelation and kept silent. 'he probably got that glare from mom' you shivered from the thought. Entering grade 4 was one thing. Facing the kids there was another, and you couldn't say you were particularly happy to wait for what kind of asshole Sae would transform into when he gets to that stage. Scratch grade 4–teenager sae would give you paralysis demons for eons. 

"Now sae, your nee-san has to get an education in order to take care of you when we can't." No matter how much your father tried to sugarcoat it, he always had something to say. "nee-san is smart enough, the only thing that's needed for that dry persona of hers is manners." he calmly chewed his food before taking a sip of salted kombucha tea. 

Somehow this reminded you of your grandpa scolding you all those years ago..surely sae couldn't have been a reincarnation of him as well? you frowned at the thought and quickly dismissed it. 

"I don't want to hear that from a brat with a soccer ball for a brain." you sassed back. "If anything, there's isn't an ounce of knowledge in that 4-year-old noggin of yours. I say if we pop it, only air would come out. Enough to supply astronauts actually." 

"oh? And I thought you were smart enough to be the bigger person and not meddle in whatever "foolishness" a 4-year-old has to offer. nee-san"

"To think I wouldn't be doing this if you didn't need any discipline. Brat"

Your father chuckled a bit at the sparks flying around the room. This had become the usual banter you and Sae had ever since he could talk. What a bundle of joy you both were when you couldn't speak at all. "[name] we're gonna be late if you two keep this up. I'll see you in the car" he got his keys which jingled and clacked along with the movement before making his way outside. 

Hurrying to finish breakfast, you put the plate in the sink before grabbing your bag by the door. but, you stopped and turned around to quickly embrace sae and give him a small pat before truly leaving. "see you when I get home sae!" The door closed by the time the younger boy turned to face you and a small blush decorated his cheeks. "stupid nee-san.." he murmured before getting back to work on the plate in front of him. Maybe he'd practice until you could get home and show you some new moves? right! he'd definitely win this match if he practiced. 

You entered the school gates as your skirt and tie swished a bit in the wind, before you got here you got what was supposed to be a schedule for your class which was class 1-B. Too focused on your schedule, what you failed to notice was the looks you were getting. 

"who's that?"

"you don't know? It's Itoshi-san from Samuyoko!"

"no way..she's from that school? wasn't the entry rate like..3.2% or something"

"oh my go–TOMI-CHAN FAINTED!!"

"an angel? cool" "I thought she was here last year?" 

You quirked your brow after finally realizing the commotion around you, looking around only to realize all eyes were on you. 'what the fuck..'  These kids made you feel like your nerves were in a literal jumble, and you weren't having a fun time with all this attention. 

With the help of your schedule, you hurriedly made your way to your classroom just in time before the bell could ring. Finding the inner strength within you managed to walk into the classroom after taking a small breath to yourself 'Everything is fine..she won't be here- hopefully.' 

By the time you reached your seat, her voice echoed through the halls. "[N/N] WHERE ARE YOU??" 

ok..maybe you jinxed it. A bob of short light pink hair that pairs with blue eyes had already run into the classroom. "Kagami..nice to see you too." Opening your arms you braced for your impending doom that was soon to crush you one way or another. "gah! you're cuter than last time I saw you! oh oh right, let me tell you about my summer but you tell me about yours first alright?" She jumped into your arms and she was already rambling. 

"right. Class is about to start you know." the taller girl pouted in response "Such a killjoy you are, but that always adds to your charm!" She stretched your cheeks out with the brightest smile ever. "we have 12 minutes until science so it can wait" 

The thing about her was that you met in your first year when you were still enrolled in Samuyoko Primary. The school was a bit far from home, but considering you were in college back before being reincarnated it was easy as pie passing the entry exam. Kagami was a social butterfly which just so happened to be a complete contrast to your personality. The minute she saw you. Both of you stuck together like glue (she kept on bothering you.) In the end the friendship worked out though so it was fine. 

"and I was like "how'd she manage to grab the whole collection before me?" so then"

Ah. yes. She was still rambling like usual, this was definitely your best friend. 

                                             ITOSHI OMAKE

"[n/n] you shouldn't be so gloomy all the time! here I am so graciously eating lunch with you and yet you still are as silent as ever!" she whined. It was lunchtime and considering how you weren't so keen on being stalked and stared at during this time you somehow managed to convince kagami to eat out in the garden with you. 

"I don't think I'd have the time to speak with the way you've been talking for the last few minutes." still not looking at her, you proceeded to open up your bento and the small piece of cake you brought with you as well. 

"didn't you mention that you had a little brother? you don't really talk about him." you paused from the piece of shortcake you were about to devour and took a minute to give it some thought "him? Sae's so much of a brat I'd rather not talk about him." 

"Sometimes you act like an old man [name]!" she giggled. "it's better than fighting over pocky flavors with a 5-year-old." 

The girl across from you gasped dramatically "Didn't you fight with your brother over STEAK? are you perhaps a hypocrite [name]-chan? even so, you're still cute doing it!"

You pointed your chopsticks are her accusingly "it's different when it's not a random kid Kagami"

"it's so not!"

"it so is"

This was the usual banter you both would have, it was fun. You missed this type of thing whenever it came to her. Maybe..just maybe this life would be better? 

#{-muxis writes #x reader #x y/n #headcanons #headcanon #oneshots #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #sae itoshi #rin itoshi #itoshi siblings #itoshi brothers #itoshi reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock sae #blue lock rin #blue lock x sibling reader #older sister reader #blue lock series

[just-another-author-i-guess]

Hi!

Could you do a headcannon of how Judd would act high around his significant other?

I feel like once he is high, he’s a little more soft and shows that a bit more

Yes!! High Judd = soft Judd fr 💪💪

Tags: fem/gn! Reader, erh the gender isn’t really specified but kinda fem? Mentions of weed and smoking it obviously, mentions of sex too bc yk, big mouth, this is probably the fluffiest thing I’ve written with Judd haha, but I was VERY tired and sleep deprived when I wrote this and did not beta read 😵‍💫

Author’s note: I have convinced my friend to start watching big mouth lmfao, and he actually agreed that Judd is hot 💪💪 it’s a win for the boys

High Judd Headcannons

Word count; 1,0K

He has two moods when he’s high 

You’ll either get super horny Judd or super soft Judd 

My personal favourite is soft Judd 

He’s all goofy smiles and cuddling 

Will think everything you say is hilarious too 

“Judd. Your parents are coming up the stairs, I can hear them,” 

He just lets out a cackle, one of those hoarse, drawn-out ones and just doesn’t answer 

It was kinda stupid of you to smoke in his room anyways,, but somehow he convinced you it was a good idea

The more stoned he gets, the more clingy he gets too 

If he’s in horny mode, he’ll obviously just fuck you harder and faster but if he’s in soft mode you’ll get a very unusual treatment 

Though not uncomfortable treatment, he’s just very, very touchy 

Like imagine Diane walking in the hallway upstairs, she walks past Judd’s room and the whole thing obviously smells like pot, so she enters and behold 

There Judd his— cuddling you, grinning while pressing his face into your stomach and leaving small kisses all over 

Not even in a sexual way 

He just loves you pls 🙏

You’re equally as stoned, running your fingers through his hair and complaining about it tickling 

My man LOVES when you tug or run your fingers through his hair, especially when he’s high 

He’ll literally just ask you to do it 

Diane finds the scene so cute she barely bothers scolding you for smoking, again she’s like 

“If you’re gonna do it, at least do it safely under my roof” 

She will call Elliot up, however, to gush over the to of you 

She’ll try to have him do it quietly though, so you won’t notice 

If you do though, happy stoned Judd will genuinely not care 

Like,, he seems to have smoked most of his anger away 

So he won’t even threaten his parents. Wow 🧐

Anyways, you don’t often do it at his house cause like,,, his parents 

But his car is the designated smoking spot

THATS ANOTHER THING 

He LOVES shotgunning you 

Your first kiss was probably bc he shotgunned you 

He was real smooth about it to; 

“Hey. Have you ever tried shotgunning?”

“No?”

“.. would you like to?” 

He’ll do it when he’s just smoking cigarettes too 

Judd really just wants every opportunity to kiss you, and ngl, seeing you exhale smoke makes him hella turned on 

He kinda has an obsession with your stomach when he’s high??? 

Like,, he’d like to lean his head on it and cackle if it makes noise, but ESPECIALLY he likes to splay his hands over it bc you’re genuinely so small compared to him 

And really soft too 

He’ll unabashedly smell you too, like the smell of your shampoo and perfume and shit makes him all lovestruck 

Stoned showers?? 🤭

Like if he’s in horny mode, he’ll definitely be up for a shower 

Seeing you both wet AND naked 

Yes pls. ✋

But like,, also if it’s at your house and you use your body wash and shampoo on him he’ll go 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Lmfao his family will DEFINITELY comment on it 

Like when he gets home and he smells like strawberry milk and flowers or whatever you use 

He’ll only let you do that when he’s high 

You gotta understand, he has a reputation— 

But, back to my point 

Soft Judd is so straight forward? Will say whatever is on his mind 

But like Judd in general is also really quick to get going, if yk what I mean 

So his soft comments about your smell or how soft you are will turn into something like;

“Sweetheart. D’you wanna sit on my dick for a while or something?” 

Ooooohhh,, soft high Judd has a thing for cockwarming 

I mean, he’s already touchy and sorta horny so you just sitting on him for hours is absolutely perfect 

He’d love watching you wiggle and struggle, red in the face and desperate pleas leaving you as you try to bounce yourself on him 

He would just laugh at your struggles and lightly tell you to stay put, and if you’re really good, he will fuck you later 

He would LOVE to fall asleep with his hard dick inside you 

Just being as close to you as possible 

He’d wake up later tho, not nearly as stoned but is cock still as hard and fuck the living shit out of you 

No okay but soft dom Judd? 😋

He can be stoned without being horny too, but it’s a rare occurance 

You’d smoke in his car and end up on the roof, stargazing 

He claims not to be romantic but when he’s stoned he gets sappy as shit 

“I really fucking love you.” 

He’d mumble into your hair, nuzzling his face into it a little bit 

Aw, you’d melt 

If you return the favor and tell him you love him too he’ll get so embarrassed though 

He’d blush and look away 🥰🥰🥰🤭🤭

I feel like he’s always some level of stoned though 

So he’d have to be really really high for him to be able to open up like that 

Fr it happens only like once every other full moon 

Obviously he does love you, his mom is always on his ass about it telling him to tell you more often lol 

When he comes down he’ll sleep for like days 

Okay maybe that’s exaggerating a bit,, but he’ll be so fast asleep you’ll worry if he died lmfao 

And he’s so groggy when he wakes up too 

If you’re less affected, he’ll definitely expect you to coddle him and bring him food or something 

But if you’re more or the same as him, you’ll just spend the day in his bed 

Taking turns sleeping and fucking 

Idc no matter how tired he is, being in his bed means sex at some point 

Also his mom is an actual life saver and will bring the two of you snacks and food 

(I love Diane ok) 

This, however, is only if you get really fucking stoned 

I feel like usually he would just act like himself, maybe a bit less tense and a lot more handsy 

But yk, the above is for extreme cases were he’s been smoking a lot lol 

Ok I actually need to sleep my eyes are closing by themselves 🧍🏻and I have some sick character development I need to do tomorrow

Tags; @dlfvrr , @bxbyyyjocelyn

#big mouth #judd birch #judd birch x reader #headcannons #big mouth x reader #judd birch smut #smut #i’m tired