#sorry i got carried away but this IS what happens

[mysticworks]

One day too late ~ LN4 x Reader

Lando x Pregnant! Reader; Coworker! Reader; Very Angsty; mentions of intimacy but nothing explicit; Borderline Forbidden love; Reader & Lando are friends with feelings

S Y N O P S I S:

Carried away at the party, you and Lando share a beautiful night. Lando, worried about the implications on his career, urges you to pretend it never happened, ignoring your feelings for each other...until 6 weeks later you find out you're carrying his child. Word count: 1.5k

[ Drop a comment to be tagged in part 2 ]

A beam of sun in your eyes pulled you out of your slumber.

Sore. Head pounding. A deep ache in your lower stomach.  

It took you a few seconds to realise that this wasn't your room. The unfamiliar sheets, the duvet much thicker and heavier. There seemed to be so much room across the mattress, stretching out in its emptiness. 

Then every memory from last night came tumbling through. 

After a launch party of the new 2024 season, you’d found yourself a little too lost in the celebrations, Lando right beside you in fits of giggles and dances. 

You'd always had feelings for Lando, ever since you joined the PR team during his rookie days - the working time together bonding into a quickly growing friendship. Yet something had always stopped you from taking it further.

And so when Lando placed his hands on your waist last night, his face inches away from yours before your lips finally collided - every rational thought was thrown out the window. 

The heat of the party. The excitement and psychedelic blood rush. Climbing into Lando’s car. Your legs, entangled. His whisper of sudden hot, breathless confession. Your heart pounding in reciprocated emotions. Your hands in his curl, his... 

You shot up in bed, last night now a vivid image.

Lando was sitting across the room, on his computer, headphones flung around his neck. His eyes flick away from the computer screen at your sudden movement, coming to rest on you, and he draws in a long breath.

You felt the air leave your lungs. How did he manage to look so gorgeous even in the mornings? 

“How are you feeling?” You blinked at his break of silence, words not quite making it out of your mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m…” Raking your fingers through your curtain of bangs in an attempt to collect your thoughts, “I’m fine.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the pounding headache too.” Lando shrugged, sighing, before powering down the screen and in a swift motion making his way across the room, over to you. 

Awkwardness suddenly overcame you and you did everything to avert your gaze from his. 

This proved pointless as he sat himself in front of you, the mattress dipping under his weight. You could feel the warmth radiate off his body, his finger coming to rest under your chin as he forced your eyes to meet.

“Are you okay?” There was a sadness in Lando’s eyes, one that didn’t quite match the gentleness of his voice. You mumbled a reply, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks - his face was so close - forcing your heart to respond with a quickened beat.

“Listen, I’m sorry for last night.” Your brows found themselves furrowing at his words.

“Sorry?” 

“We shouldn’t have…” He raked his curls, shutting his eyes tight for a brief moment, as if pained to say the words. 

His voice was quieter when he spoke again, “We shouldn’t have done what we did y/n.”

You felt something stab at your chest. “I don’t understand, Lando, I like you, you like me, we’ve known each other for years…what’s…what’s the - ” 

He didn't give you a chance to finish. “I can’t risk having…I just can’t risk a relationship right now. We can’t - ”

He pauses, gaze softening as you feel your eyes well up, but you’re determined to keep a stoic expression on your face.   

It didn't help that Lando was looking at you with such an intense look in his eye, his hand cupping your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Are you saying we can't date?”

You felt your voice betray you, a single tear spilling down your cheek. Lando used his thumb to wipe it away, taking in a shaky breath. 

He looked away. “Please. I’m sorry.” His eyes were almost telling you to stay, now also welled with redness, but his words said differently. 

You felt the world collapse. Your breath hitched. A tremor shot through your limbs as you scrambled out from Lando’s bed. He got up too from his seat, standing limply in the centre of his room.

It was then you realised you were in his clothes, his loose tee reaching your knees, a pair of his joggers clumsily worn over your legs. You paid no heed, now eager to just leave. To run away and hide. 

Never had rejection been so cold. It was almost like he’d used you. A part of you wanted to scream at him, throw things and ask him “why,” yet you felt as if life had been sucked out of you. 

One of the best days of your life had been merely hours ago, before turning into a nightmare. 

“Y/n…” You’d only just reached the door, but his call made you stop in your tracks. There was a shameless hope he’d changed his mind. 

“Here. It’s cold out.” 

He held out one of his hoodies, passing it to you in a gesture to take it. 

You did. Curt and refusing to meet his gaze, before turning around stiffly.

And without another word, you left his apartment, refusing to look back.

----------------------

You weren’t sure when you got home, drenched from the rain that came gushing down along the way. 

You weren’t sure of much…only that your relationship with Lando was over. 

Over before it had even begun.

Climbing out of bed the next day was the worst feeling. With no energy in your limbs, you called in sick to work, refusing to face anyone at the McLaren office, but more importantly, avoiding Lando. 

You stayed in bed, too exhausted from crying to move. 

It wasn’t until a week later that you finally showed up at work. The pain seemed to have subdued; now replaced with forever changing moods. At times you were down in the dumps, exhausted and tired - your head slightly foggy - other times, irritable and angry. Yet you ploughed on at work, ignoring the sleepless nights and restless evenings. 

Avoiding Lando at work was near impossible, and yet you managed. Only speaking to him when absolutely unavoidable through email, or putting on your best corporate voice. 

Eye contact was avoided altogether, even when he craned his head to catch your gaze, you turned away. 

That was a satisfaction you refused to give him.

At 2 weeks it seemed the restless nights had been replaced with exhausted ones, a full night's sleep still leaving you fatigued and nauseous in the mornings. You blamed the sickness on heartbreak. 

Lando watched you more often now, sitting in the lobby of your office during lunch breaks. You turned down the blinds and shut him out.

-------------------

The realisation came, 6 weeks post heartbreak. A quick glance at your calendar told you you’d missed your cycle. The nausea, tiredness, mood swings all made sense now - each jigsaw piece coming together to fit the puzzle. 

Although the fear of raising a baby alone rose in your throat, you were determined to do it. You knew Lando had a right to know. Yet somewhere, deep down in your heart, you refused to give him that.

Perhaps you were running away.

Perhaps this was your revenge.

Your resignation made sure he’d never know. 

L A N D O 'S P O V:

They say you don’t know the value of something until it’s gone. I've learnt this truth the hard way.

I’ve watched her everyday since that night; desperately trying to catch her eye at work; take her aside and apologise. Tell her we can make this happen... start over, uncaring of the world and it's concerns.

I've watched her everyday, slowly starting to shrivel. The bags under her eyes, the tiredness in her smile. I’ve watched her at lunch, nibbling at almost nothing at her plate before silently excusing herself away. 

It devastates me to know that this pain is from me. I have caused it and she didn't deserve it. How I wish I could tell her that I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. 

I miss her smile. Her company; once a comfort. I miss having her by my side; encouraging; so full of energy.

And so this is my chance. My chance to finally set things right.

Clutching the bouquet - glitter roses I spent the last night making - I head over to the PR query desk, determined to start again, if she can give me the chance. 

There’s a new member of staff at the desk; someone I’ve never seen before and he tilts his head up at me, hearing my approach, flashing me a smile. 

He thinks I’m here for a project meeting and begins to rise from his seat, holding up a clipboard as if ready to pass it over. 

“I’m looking for y/n, l/n.” A moment passes.

Legs jittering. Heart tight and constricted; there’s a sense of urgency swelling in me as if telling me to hurry, rushing me to make things right. My fingers tap at the desk, impatient. 

He gives a sigh, furrowing his brows and lowering the clipboard back into place. 

“I'm afraid she's not here. She gave in her resignation yesterday.”

The words hit me like a boulder to the chest.

My legs feel heavy, a tornado whirling in the pit of my stomach. My fingers unclench from the bouquet and with a soft thud, the flowers thud to the ground; petals ripping apart from impact.

They've crumbled. Glitter littering the floor.

It was over.

I was one day too late.

Taglist: @hc-dutch @racinggirl @aileeincomplexity @kravitzwhore @eringaitskill @adoreyou-ido @landoslutmeout @queenofmanydreams

#ln4 #ln4 ang #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 angst #formula one angst #formula 1 angst #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris angst #lando norris x oc #lando norris x you #f1 angst

[aperrywilliams]

It Was Horrible Until It Wasn't (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Reader comes up to her apartment after Spencer walks her home from the diner, where they spend the last couple of hours. She is still processing the night and wonders if they will meet again. Another fortuitous event makes that happen. In which terms they will part ways again?

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Mention of guns (tests to carry a gun). Mention to Reader's ex. Some strong words? IDK what else. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I got very excited after your reactions and comments to "If Anything, I Find it Educative." So this is kind of part two, from Reader's perspective. I'm not convinced about a series yet, even if I have some ideas. What would you like to see if it happens?

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Reader's POV

-----

As I open the door, a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered on the floor greets me. That reminds me that I haven't unpacked all my things yet.

I've only been living here for two weeks, and I'm still getting used to the idea that this is my new home. 

It doesn't feel like it yet. 

But the boxes will be a problem for tomorrow. Now, I only want to take off these high heels and this fancy dress and call it a night - a pretty eventful night.

Not only did I have to confront my ex with his new girlfriend, but I also had to pretend I was okay with it. But how did I expect to do that? Did I genuinely think two months would be enough to be outside again to prove I got myself up? 

How naive of me.

I make a beeline to my bedroom, not even bothering to look at the rest of the apartment.

Again, it's tomorrow's problem.

Retreating my phone from my purse, I plug it to charge over my bedside table as I strip from my clothes and go to the bathroom to do my nightly routine.

The entire time, my mind doesn't stop wandering. At some point, it settles on the girl I helped from choking. It was a total coincidence for me to be there. I only approached the bar for another drink when I heard that man rambling. I don't know why my ear perked up, but it did. When I look to find the voice's source, my eyes land on the man and the girl by his side.

He was talking as if the world would end if he didn't, and the girl only eyed him from head to toe, clearly not giving a damn what he was saying. I kept subtly listening to them while sipping my drink. The guy's voice had something enchanting. I would have heard him talk for hours if it were from me. It was a bad thing his interlocutor wasn't so receptive, and when she occasionally said something, it was a flirting remark that only made him uncomfortable. 

What a shame.

When I noticed her fighting to breathe, swatting her hands in desperation, and the poor guy froze on the spot, I knew I needed to do something.

I didn't think much of it and wrapped my arms around her torso to help her. It worked. The oyster she choked with flew into the air, and she could breathe again.

But the next thing I knew, her palm connected to the man's cheek.

The poor guy seemed so confused, and the people talking around didn't help either. What a shitty situation. And as the good citizen I am, I tried to do something about it, only to get lashed out by the same woman I just saved from choking.

Fuck it. 

Seeing the people's attention returned to them, I walked away. That wasn't my fight in the first place.

Returning from the bathroom, I hear my phone ding. It's a text from my friend Andie.

Andie: How did the gala turn out? Did you see him? He was with her, right?

Andie had insisted on me not going to the gala, although I repeated to her several times that it was okay, that nothing would happen, and that I couldn't hide forever.

Me: You were right. I wasn't ready.

It's a defeat I must recognize. I wasn't prepared to see them.

Andie: My girl, I'm so sorry. It must have been awful for you.

It was, but it doesn't mean the night was a disaster.

Me: It was horrible until it wasn't. I can tell you more tomorrow. Now, I only want to go to bed.

Andie: You have me a bit confused here, but okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Sleep tight; I love you.

I return my phone to the charger and slip under the covers.

It was horrible until it wasn't.

I keep thinking about that. And a smile tugs the corner of my lips. Since Spencer - the guy who got slapped by the oyster-choked girl - approached me at the terrace, the night wasn't that awful anymore.

Who would have thought I would end my night in a diner, dressed to the nines and spouting details of my messy life to a stranger?

-

Monday morning comes faster than I wanted. 

I spent my Sunday mostly unpacking boxes and tidying my apartment, and now, with a coffee in hand, I cross the hall to my office on the third floor of the FBI building in Quantico.

Some colleagues greet me as I pass by. I return them with a polite smile. I saw a couple of them at the gala on Saturday. I only hope they didn't notice the wreck I was that night.

On my desk, a pile of hundreds of manila folders are waiting for me.

This Monday will be a blast.

Dutifully, I reach for the first folder to start my work, as my ear perks up to two colleagues' conversation about the gala.

"Did you see them? Those hot chicks from Counterterrorism?" a male colleague says to another.

"Yeah. I heard one of them was hitting on Reid from the BAU. What a waste!" The other adds.

"And the lucky bastard wasn't able to take her home. His nerdy charm didn't even help him with that."

The mention of the BAU brings Spencer to my mind again. And I realize I don't even know his last name. 

I don't think I need to know, but I can't stop my fingers from typing 'Spencer FBI BAU' on my computer.

My findings make the conversation between my colleagues intriguing. They were precisely talking about Spencer, Spencer Reid, and the girl with him at the gala. Clearly, the incident did not go unnoticed.

I don't like the tone they refer to him, either. I do not know the guy well, but I'm sure he's way better than any of the men at the venue that night.

Are you hearing yourself (Y/N)? That kind of blind trust put you in this situation with your ex in the first place.

I shouldn't grant credibility so fast, but honestly? Spencer seems to be everything but a threat. The things he said, the way he spoke. Anyway, I should stop thinking about that if I want to finish some work. Yeah, that's what I need to do.

Drowning out the noise, I return to the opened folder and continue working.

Some would ask how a task as monotonous as the one I'm doing now could be appealing to someone. The appeal for me comes from how everything fits in the right places and serves a purpose. That's enough for me, even if some people don't understand it.

My ex didn't. And as him, many others.

I'm still fighting to ease the effects their judgments had on me.

Around lunchtime, stopping the papers review, I pick up my phone to check my messages. Yesterday, I promised Andie I would have lunch with her today, so I'm checking for her confirmation and a place to meet.

Just in time, a text comes. She is free right now and suggests a restaurant just outside the building.

"Hey, girl! I'm glad you made it," she greets me as I spot her on one of the tables.

"Of course. I promised I would."

Lunchtime is only one hour, so we order quickly and go straight to the matter.

"I can't believe the son of the bitch decided to go and show off his new conquest," Andie huffs.

"Not that new, considering she has been sleeping with him in what used to be my bed at least a month before I discovered it," I correct with an annoyed look.

It's good to say these things without crying my eyes out anymore.

I tell Andie more details about how it went to share a space packed with mutuals around us and try to stay composed.

"But at some point, I just couldn't. So I retracted to the bar. I only wanted to grab a drink and be alone."

Andie nods in understanding.

"I don't blame you. So you were at the bar when you crossed to the girl to whom you did Heimlich?"

Yesterday, by phone, I told Andie the main facts regarding that, and after laughing for a solid five minutes about the whole ordeal, she made me promise to reveal more details in our lunch meeting.

That's why I'm describing what happened piece by piece.

"She slapped the guy? And she yelled at you? What a bitch! But I don't understand why he apologized on her behalf."

"Honestly? I didn't understand it, but it made sense after talking with him. The guy felt responsible, even if it wasn't related to him. It was the fact that someone had to do the right thing," I explain, with my eyes fixed on my water glass, recalling Spencer's words from that night. 

I can't help but feel some fondness for his genuine worry. Andie raises an eyebrow and hums.

"The guy made a good impression on you, I see."

Andie's tone is teasing, and I know exactly where she is heading.

"Come on, don't start with that," I warn her. I'm not thoroughly annoyed, but I'm not in the mood for teasing. Andie scoffs.

"I'm just saying it's good to know there are men out there that give hopes up. That's all!"

"Sure," I mumble, not very convinced by her explanation.

The rest of our lunch follows a similar tone. When I finish telling Andie about Spencer walking me home, I know she is biting her tongue to say something to taunt me, but she holds back and opts for a question.

"Do you think you'll see him again?"

I ponder my answer. I don't know, although I remember Spencer asking, 'See you around?'

That doesn't mean we agreed to see each other again, even if I said, 'Sure, why not?' 

Did Spencer mean that? Did he want to see me again?

"I don't know. Maybe. We both work in this building, so there are chances, I guess," I shrug. Andie narrows her eyes.

"But do you want to?"

That's a question I don't know how to answer, so I take some seconds to think about it.

"Let's say I'm not opposed to the idea."

A reply that could be an understatement. But not I'm telling Andie that.

She doesn't press on the matter, though. And I'm grateful she doesn't.

Now it's time to go back to work. We walk out of the restaurant to our building and separate ways at the elevator. Andie continues to the eighth floor when I hop off on the third.

Returning to my desk, I continue checking the folders piled on my desk, and my mind only focuses on that, knowing if I don't, there is no chance of getting this stack finished.

----

A good thing about the week progressing is nobody talking anymore about the damn gala. It's been a nightmare since Monday when everyone had to mention something about it. That included comments about me facing my ex there. 

Of course, it was public knowledge I was dating an agent of the Criminal Investigative Division. Also, it became public knowledge he cheated on me with his current girlfriend from Counterterrorism.

But finally, it is Thursday, and everything seems to have returned to normal, so much so that the amount of work has increased exponentially. That's why I'm still at the office at seven pm.

I only assume it's time to go home when my boss pokes out of his office and calls for Andrew, one of our coworkers who distributes files and memos to the other departments.

I turn around, and it's only me at this hour. My boss notices the vacant office and is now talking to me.

"I guess I have to ask you to do this. Can you go to the sixth and drop this to Aaron Hotchner's office? I would have waited until tomorrow for Andrew, but this must be at his desk today."

I don't think I have a choice, so I pick the folder, promising to drop it before going home.

With my coat and purse, I grab the folder and stroll to the elevator.

I have been working here for four years and know every financial detail of each Quantico department, but I still need to recognize all department locations in this facility. So, floors are just floors, except the eight where Andie works.

Arriving at my destination, I walk into a bullpen, where I can see a lot of desks and offices. And just like my floor, it is almost empty. Anyway, I see one of the offices with lights on. My instinct tells me that's the place I'm looking for, and the plaque at the door confirms my suspicions: SSA Aaron Hotchner.

"Come in," a voice comes from the office when I knock.

Peeking inside, a stern-looking man is glancing in my direction. "Can I help you?" he asks with a slight frown.

"Yes, sir. I'm with the Finance Division, and my boss asked me to bring this to you," I explain as I reach out to hand him the folder. When he grabs it, realization washes over the man.

"Of course. Thank you very much-" Agent Hotchner trails off.

"(Y/L/N)," I supply, knowing he wants my last name.

"Thank you very much, Agent (Y/L/N)."

Weird. 

Everyone in the finance and administrative department refers to each other only by last name. We use the 'agent' thing mainly with those who do the fieldwork, and we are used to that.

"You're welcome, Agent Hotchner," I smile politely, ready to leave the man's office. He nods approvingly.

"Hotch, sorry for interrupting you, but I'm ready with my report. I thought you wanted it-"

A man talks, entering abruptly at the office. He stops in his tracks when he sees Agent Hotchner isn't alone.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were with someone. I can come back later," he apologizes.

Wait. I know that voice. 

I turn, and I see Spencer standing there. His eyes meet mine, and I feel my cheeks burn. He doesn't say anything but doesn't tear his eyes from mine.

I don't know how many seconds pass, but it's enough for Agent Hotchner to intervene.

"Reid?" he calls Spencer's attention.

"Uh?"

"The report. It's okay; you can give it to me," he tells Spencer, not without subtly bouncing his gaze between us.

"Oh. Okay." Spencer approaches Hotchner's desk, but he still directs glances at me. I want to say hi to him properly, but it doesn't feel okay knowing the man in front of us is undoubtedly his boss. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable. So, I take that as my cue to leave.

"If you excuse me," I tell Agent Hotchner, signaling my departure. Spencer looks at me, and I give him a subtle smile.

"Of course. Thank you again, Agent (Y/L/N)."

"To you, sir. Have a good evening."

I walk down the stairs to the open bullpen and toward the elevator.

Before I can push the go-down button, a voice calls my name. It's Spencer's.

"(Y/N), wait!"

I turn and see him trotting towards me.

"Hi!" he says once we are face to face.

Now I feel bad. Spencer comes here to say hi, and I didn't greet him properly just two minutes ago. 

"Spencer, hi. I'm sorry, I should have said something there, but I didn't know if you wanted him to know- I mean, I supposed he was your boss, and I-"

What's wrong with me? 

Why can't I explain myself without stumbling with my words?

"No. No. Don't apologize. It's okay. I should have told you something, too. But I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither. My boss sent me here instead of one of my coworkers, who left early. I didn't know this was the BAU floor. What a coincidence, uh?" I play cool, shifting my weight from one foot to another. Spencer nods in agreement.

"Totally. It's good to see you, though. I hoped we could cross paths again."

Isn't it weird that his words have produced a funny tingle in my stomach right now?

"Is that so?" I half-breath, noticing his cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"Yes. I mean, I truly enjoyed talking to you that night," he sheepishly admits.

I more than enjoyed it, Spencer.

"Yeah, me too."

Silence sets between us. And it's time to make a decision. I could say I go home and leave him with a lukewarm 'See you around,' or say I'm leaving, but before doing so, give Spencer my number so we can talk soon. Or...

"Are you busy right now? I'm heading home now, but if you can and want, we can go for a coffee."

Wow (Y/N). Very smooth. I like you smooth.

Spencer's eyes widened, and I wondered for a second if my offer was too straightforward.

"If you have plans, it's okay. We don't have to," I relent.

"Oh, no. I don't. And I would love to go for a coffee with you," Spencer hastens to say. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Yeah?"

"Sure! If you wait for me just a second, I'll pick my things from my desk, and we can go."

----

This time, it's my turn to pick the place.

It's a small coffee shop in the middle of Virginia, just mid-way between Quantico and my apartment.

As we get on the train, I ask Spencer about Agent Hotchner.

"Hotch? Well, he has been at the unit for twelve years now. Gideon, a former agent, told me once he didn't expect Hotch to last long in the BAU. But he proved him wrong. Indeed, Gideon left, and Hotch stayed. Honestly, I can't picture the BAU with another unit chief."

There is a fondness when Spencer talks about Hotchner. I can tell he sees him more than as a superior.

"What about yours?"

Now is my turn to talk about my boss.

"Agent Williams? He is a bureaucrat from head to toe. He had just transferred from another administrative department when I joined the financial division four years ago. At that time, he had ten years working with the FBI. The guy is a genius but lacks social skills. I'm not judging him; I'm a bit like him. But in his position, he needs to make politics, which involves talking and convincing people."

The conversation with Spencer flows so well and easily that I'm as impressed as I was the night of the gala. 

When we reach the coffee shop, we sit facing each other. After ordering our coffee, we start talking about our coworkers.

"So Garcia is our technical analyst. I have to say she is like the team's heart. Besides her outstanding skills, her compassion and care are something out of this world," Spencer admits, and again, I feel the fondness in his voice.

"She seems very special," I add. Spencer nods.

"Very. I don't know what it's like to have a sister, but if I had one, I would have liked someone like her.

So he doesn't have a sister. Does he have brothers, though? We have yet to talk about our families, so this is the first piece of information I get about it.

"What about the guy who came to check what was happening with your girl at the gala?" I ask, and Spencer scoff.

"First of all, Ashley isn't my girl. I think she made it pretty clear that night. And secondly, the guy in question is Morgan, the culprit of why I was with Ashley in the first place."

That's interesting. I want to know more about that.

"How is that?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

Spencer tells me how Morgan insisted they talk to the girls - Ashley and her friends - and how he reluctantly followed him.

I'm about to make a not-so-kind remark when Spencer gets ahead of me.

"I know it may seem like he is a thoughtless person, but he truly means well. I can't entirely agree with his tactics most of the time, but he's right when he tells me I should enjoy more and work less."

"It's safe to say you weren't 'enjoying' that much there," I quip, air-quoting the word 'enjoying.' Spencer chuckles.

"Yeah. Honestly? I have more fun when Morgan kicks doors down in our field chases than when he tries to play wingman for me."

What? Kick doors down?

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that the FBI had to spend thousands of dollars in repairs for third parties last year because of him?"

I know I'm being dramatic. It's impossible that just one agent destroyed that amount of dollars by kicking doors. But still.

Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No! I mean, yes. He does that, but thousands of dollars? Last time I checked, doors are not that expensive."

I roll my eyes. That's not the point.

"Okay. I know it's not only Agent Morgan's doing, but did you know the buro's budget had increased by 4% last year due to refunds for field operations? And did you know 70% of that increase refers to agents shattering private property?"

Now, I sound like my boss. Great. I became what I swore to destroy.

Spencer looks at me with amusement. I narrow my eyes to him. "What?"

He clears his throat. "Oh. No, nothing. It's just - well, it's fascinating to hear you talking about - uh - numbers."

I can't help but snort. "Come on, how fascinating that can be?"

Spencer grins. "If anything, I find it educative," he parrots my words from that night, and we fall into a fit of laughs.

"Yeah?" I muse after the laughter subsides. Spencer nods, still a smile gracing his face.

Gosh, that smile.

"Well, I can talk about numbers all day. But I'm sure you don't want me to 'fascinate' you that much."

Spencer hums, faking be pondering his options.

"Don't tempt me. I like to know and talk about everything. But before returning to numbers, I want to ask about your coworkers. I already talked much about mine."

Even if there is not much to say, indulging him with an answer is only fair.

"What can I say? In my area, there are three: Anthony, Leah, and me. We were four then, but Andie was promoted to the eighth floor a year ago. Anthony is a good guy, a little inexperienced, but very eager to learn. We don't have a very close relationship, but he's my protegee at work. Leah is very clever and has enough experience, but sometimes she is not present, making things a little tense between us. Andie is rightfully my friend. We got to the bureau simultaneously, and although she doesn't work with us anymore, we are very close."

Spencer is looking at me with full attention. It's odd to talk about this kind of thing with someone. I don't like to talk about my bonds in general. It makes me feel vulnerable. But for a reason that I still don't get, with Spencer, it feels right.

It's night already, and we are in our third coffee.

"Do you usually drink this amount of coffee daily at this hour? I try to cut off my dosis after lunch, but sometimes I just can't," I point as I stir the spoon on my coffee. Spencer hums.

"I drink a lot of it at any time of the day, every day. It's worse when we are on cases because that shitty coffee at the precincts should not even be called coffee," he scoffs, pouring half of the sugar pot into his cup.

I have already noticed the amount of sugar Spencer has used in his two previous coffees; this third is not the exception.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask," I say as my eyes dart to his sweet liquid. He follows my line of sight and chuckles.

"I love coffee, but I don't like its bitterness. I know it doesn't make sense, but for me it does."

"Fair enough."

After that, our conversation stumbles to lousy sleep habits.

"Ray hated it. Even once, he told me I purposely got up in the middle of the night to annoy him."

Spencer's brow furrows.

"Ray is your ex?"

Shit. I don't realize I'm talking about him.

Why do I have to mention him? I hate how ingrained he is still in my life.

"Yeah, Raymond. No wonder why things didn't work out between us," I try to joke because I don't want to cry about it anymore.

"An example of a man," Spencer follows my lead, and I'm grateful he doesn't look at me like people usually do when I talk about it. There is no pity. There is no that look saying, 'Oh, poor girl who got cheated on.' It's like a whole understanding. It doesn't make me feel like a failure. And that's a change—a good one.

I chuckle. "Hell, he is."

It's getting late, and it's time to part ways, even if I don't want it. Hours pass quickly with such good company.

"We should get going. It's late," I point as I glance at my phone. Spencer nods in acknowledgment, signaling the waitress to get the check. He is about to fish his wallet when I stop him.

"No. Don't do that. I invited you."

Spencer scoffs, opening his wallet nonetheless. 

"No way. You invited me the other night. You can do it next time."

Next time, uh? I want to say something teasing, but the waitress returns with our check.

We are outside the coffee shop now. I adjust my coat as Spencer does the same with his suit jacket. The night is chilly, and the contrast with the warmth of the coffee shop is evident.

"Can I walk you home?" He offers. I have my doubts about that. It's not that I don't like the idea; I just don't want to use more of his time.

"You don't have to. Really," I shake my head.

"Please? You already said it. It's pretty late," he insists, looking at me with dog puppy eyes. 

Why is he doing that? He is testing my resolve.

"You know I can take care of myself, right? I'm a certificated FBI agent. I can't carry a gun, but sure I could manage," I argue in a teasing tone. Spencer chuckles.

"I know you are. And I'm sure you could. Even though, why no to prolong our evening for fifteen minutes long?" I raise an eyebrow.

"So you really like my company, uh?" 

I'm sure I see a blush creeping his cheeks, and it's endearing.

"I like your company. I thought I made it pretty clear the other night?" he probes. And I don't know how to respond to that.

The truth is quite curious. Teasing Spencer seems so natural sometimes, but now I don't know what to say.

I decide not to say anything and nod, motioning for us to start walking.

Spencer follows me, and we walk in silence for the first block. Then, I feel the need to continue our conversation. I want these fifteen minutes to be as good as the previous two hours.

"Did you know that I used to carry a gun? Although it took me three failed tests to do so."

Spencer looks at me, surprised. I take that as my cue to tell that story.

Once I tell him how I finally managed to pass my shooting test, he starts telling me how he also failed his test a couple of times.

"So you saved your boss life shooting an unsub?" Spencer nods.

"But I really aimed to his leg, not his head," he adds, and we burst into a fit of laughter.

Without realizing it, we are already in front of my building. The laughter subsides when we notice where we are.

I clear my throat. "Well. Uh-thank you. Again," I say, referring to him walking me home.

"No need," Spencer says. "I had a good time today," he adds, smiling. 

I can't help but feel my cheeks burn. Spencer casts his eyes to the ground.

"Me too," I admit, biting my bottom lip. "I - uh."

Why am I so nervous right now? Just say what you want to say!

"I - uh. I'd really like to do this again. I mean, you know, maybe next time could be something planned?"

Spencer's eyes flick to mine. I would say he didn't expect me to say that.

"I would love that," he says, keeping eye contact. And for a moment, I think the breath leaves my lungs. Those eyes are something I didn't see in my life before. I can't describe it, but it's enough to make me speechless.

"I guess it's here when I ask for your number?" Spencer's voice is the one that brings me out of the trance.

I chuckle, mid-embarrassed by my absorption moment. I gesture for him to give me the phone. Spencer does it, and I advert his piercing gaze to focus on typing my number. Once done, I return the device with a playful smile. Jeez, I feel like a damn teenager.

A snort leaves Spencer's lips when he sees the name I used for my contact.

"Really?" He asks. I nod, chuckling.

"It's safe to say you won't forget who I am," I confirm.

"Bet I won't."

"Good. Now I'm going to come up," I gesture to the building. "Good night, Spencer."

"Good night, (Y/N)."

I turn to enter the building, and although I can't see him, I feel him standing there in the cold night until I disappear into the elevator.

Once I cross the threshold of my apartment, a ding comes from my phone. Frowning, I pick it up.

Unknown number: Are you free on Saturday at midday? We could go to lunch. Let me know. Good night. SR.

I bit my lower lip. And after typing a reply, I start my night routine before bed.

Oh, boy. What are you getting into (Y/N)? 

Whatever it is, it feels so good.

-------------

A/N 2: As always, I'm excited to know your thoughts about this one!

-------------

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #aperrywilliams #amanda perry williams

[jgracie]

I CAN FIX HIM (NO REALLY I CAN)

masterlist | rules

❝ Can you please writhe a one shot with Jason and daughter of Psyche reader based on the song “I can fix him(no really i can)” by Taylor?Like imagine some time later when Jason is finally free from his demigod duties and goes to college with his friends,here he meets reader.Since she is a daughter of Psyche (the goddess of the human soul)she understands him immediately and she help him understand himself,discovering what he likes and to heal from his past and of course they fall in love. ❞ — anon

in which they shook their heads saying “god help her,” when you tell ‘em he’s your man

pairing jason grace x psyche!reader

warnings feelings of self loathing, slight bullying

on the radio . . . i can fix him (no really i can) (taylor swift)

an they r in new rome uni in this !! i feel like jason is a tad ooc but also its 11:30pm as im posting this and im tired

Everything you heard about Jason Grace screamed ‘red flag’. Son of Jupiter, ex-praetor, raised by wolves then sent to camp at the mere age of three or four - what was there not to be afraid of? To add to that, the way he carried himself exuded power in a way that would make anyone cower in fear. His face was inscrutable, crystal blue eyes unreadable in the same way the storms his father made were

However, you weren’t anyone. Your mother was Psyche, goddess of the soul. And as a daughter of Psyche, you could see right through just about everyone, including Jason Grace. Whenever you tapped into his energy, you couldn’t help but feel he was the complete opposite of what he presented himself as. While Jason seemed content with solitude to everyone around him, you knew that deep down, he was just seriously misunderstood and in desperate need for some loving

You were right. Jason’s life had been hell, especially the past couple years. His memory had been taken away from him, making him lose ties with all his friends and a potential lover, Reyna. Then, he’d gotten a new girlfriend and new friends, only for his girlfriend to dump him and his friends to all be too busy to spend a single second with him. Still, Jason had persevered. He applied and got accepted to New Rome University, he attended all his lectures, he got perfect grades, he tried his best to socialise. 

The latter never worked out though. People either saw him as Jason the traitor, the guy who’d chosen to leave with the Greeks instead of fighting for his camp (Jason would stifle a laugh at the phrase ‘his camp’ - if this were really his camp, they wouldn’t have easily found a guy who’s the epitome of everything un-Roman to replace him. They weren’t any better), or as Jason the soldier, the man who’d toppled Kronos’ throne and won in a fight against the titan Krios, absolutely untouchable and worshipped in a way that would make his father seethe with jealousy

Eventually, he gave up. If that’s how they wanted him to be, so be it. He shut himself off from the world, focusing solely on his studies and his plans for shrines for every God and Goddess. Little did he know, a certain someone was formulating the perfect plan to become his friend

Your plan backfired. You’d spent weeks keeping note of all the classes you had with Jason, even occasionally following him to see where he’d go after class (his dorm, immediately), and yet you couldn’t seem to get a single conversation out of him. The closest you’d gotten was when you sat next to him in one of your lectures and dropped your pen - he’d simply handed it to you without a word. For the split-second your fingers brushed, you took on all his pain and felt it pull you apart. How could he cope with all of this baggage? 

Luckily for you, the fates work in mysterious ways that in this case, happened to be in your favour

“Oh, I’ll leave. Sorry.” Someone mumbled from behind you. You had been having a hard time sleeping as it was exam season, meaning everyone’s late night stress as they did last minute cram sessions piled onto you, so you decided to go to the one place you knew would be quiet. It was a small garden you’d discovered as a freshman and dubbed as ‘your spot’, and you’d often come when you were feeling extra overwhelmed

Turning your head, your eyes widened as you saw none other than Jason Grace, who was about to go back to his dorm

“No, wait! You can stay, I don’t mind,” this was a first for Jason. Usually, people would go the other way at the sight of him, not offer to let him sit with them. He felt a gut-wrenching, yearning feeling in his stomach, and you felt it too. Softly, you patted the spot on the bench next to you. It was quiet between you, but with that simple gesture, you had made an everlasting mark in Jason’s mind

After that night, instead of leaving his bag on the seat next to him, Jason would put it on the floor in hopes that you’d see the empty seat and choose to sit there. You, ever the empath, did. The more you sat with Jason, the more words were said between you. You started the conversations, of course, asking him about his day and telling him about whatever minor inconvenience you had that morning

“I ran out of toothpaste,” Jason had said to you one day as you took your laptop out of your bag. This was his first time initiating a conversation. He wasn't sure why he did it, and cringed internally the moment those words came out of his mouth - toothpaste, Jason, really? - but you’d smiled and asked if he wanted to come with you to the shops after class, since you also needed to stock up on some supplies

That was the day Jason’s walls began crumbling down. Suddenly, he seemed to loosen up. His posture slackened and he smiled more often, told more jokes and even engaged in your banter. People gave the two of you weird looks as you walked around New Rome in fits of laughter, but neither of you cared 

Well, not until one fateful day. Jason had been making his way to class with two coffees in hand, one for you and one for himself, when he’d overheard two people deep in conversation. He’d never been one to eavesdrop, but when he heard your name being mentioned, he couldn’t help himself

“That poor girl, she has absolutely no idea what she’s getting herself into,” one of them said. The other hummed in agreement, pity laced in his voice 

“She thinks she’s doing a good thing, being friends with him and all, but he’s just going to break her heart like he did Reyna’s. Jason Grace is no good.”

He nearly dropped his coffees. Suddenly, all the confidence he’d built came crumbling down, being quickly replaced with those walls he knew all too well, the only things he could trust other than you. Since he loved you so dearly, this was for the best. You’d find some other guy to befriend eventually. If all of Camp Jupiter could replace him after years of service, who’s to say you couldn’t after a couple months of being friends?

Coincidentally, you happened to be looking for Jason when you saw him standing there, a blank look on his face - the same one people had warned you about in your first year at NRU. This time, however, they didn’t have a fighting chance in fooling you. Even without your powers from being Psyche’s daughter, you knew Jason was a sweet guy with the kindest heart

“Jason, are you alright?” You asked, reaching to place a tender hand on his shoulder. He pulled away and your face dropped as you tuned into his feelings and realised the old Jason was making a comeback. It’s not like he’d ever been gone, no one ever gets rid of lifelong trauma and horrible experiences that quickly, but Jason’s aura hadn’t felt that self-loathing in a very long time

Looking behind you, you saw a couple give you a pitying look and the pieces clicked immediately. Scowling at them, you took Jason by the arm and dragged him to that garden where you first spoke. The garden that was no longer just your spot

“Whatever they said, I don’t care,” you told him, “they’re wrong, Jason. You can’t listen to them. From the moment I met you I knew they were wrong. Don’t let them win.” His eyes stared into yours, completely emotionless. His guard was up, and you didn’t know why (slight btd ref!!). Didn’t he trust you? 

His voice monotone, Jason replied, “this isn’t just about them, Y/N. You have no idea what I’ve been through. You don’t deserve to have to deal with that, it could affect you too. You could be making so many friends right now and yet you haven’t, because you chose to stick with me.”

The tension rose between you and you knew there was only one thing you could do: succumb to the pull he had on you once and for all. Grabbing him by the collar, you pulled Jason closer to you and kissed him fiercely

When you pulled away, you took a second to take in Jason’s dishevelled look before replying, “I don’t care. I’ll choose to stick with you in every lifetime.”

#jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace #jason grace x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #jason grace fanfic #jason grace drabble #percy jackson x reader #jason grace x psyche reader #daughter of psyche #psyche pjo #cynwrites

[metalomagnetic]

Snippet Canis Major

Voldemort remembers the other Sirius. Also, a little glimpse at Orion/Walburga, because I never tire of this toxic couple.

(-)

Usually, it was Arcturus or Pollux that showed up when their children got in trouble. Cygnus, especially, was often in trouble, so Pollux’ face was the most familiar to the students.

In Voldemort’s sixth year at Hogwarts, Atticus Bulstrode, the Head Boy, invited Walburga to Hogsmeade, the last in a lengthy string of boys asking her out. Only this time, she accepted.

When he heard, Orion challenged him to a formal duel. Atticus laughed, rolled his eyes at his fourteen years old opponent.

“Quick!” He was shaken awake by Abraxas, in the middle of the night.“Orion is killing Bulstrode in the trophy room! You have to stop him!”

He reached them just in time, he disarmed Orion, and rushed Bulstrode to the Hospital Wing, where they found Dumbledore asking the Matron for a sleeping potion.

Atticus was lucky- Dumbledore was more often than not away from Hogwarts, chasing Grindelwald, rumour went, but he was there that night, apparently suffering with insomnia.

The professor kept Atticus alive until the Healers from St Mungo arrived and took the boy with them.

“It wasn’t me,” he said, hurriedly, stained in Bulstrode’s blood, lingering in the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore peered at him from under his half-moon glasses. Dumbledore always liked to blame everything on him. “I only brought him here after-”

“I know,” Dumbledore assured him.

The next morning Atticus’ father came thundering, his yells easily heard from where Voldemort was spying, near the Headmaster office.

He wondered if maybe this will be the time when a Black actually suffers consequences. After all, Bulstrode’s name was ancient, they were a rich, influential family, and surely, at least on account of that, Dippet would do something more than detention and points taken, which was the usual punishment for Blacks.

Only, this time it wasn't Arcturus that came to fix his son's issues.

It was the infamous Sirius Black. A tall man, with wide shoulders, long black hair hanging around his face, deep circle under his too intense eyes, mouth twisted in a snarl. Orion walked behind him, his gaze fixed on his older relative. Voldemort watched them, hidden by a pillar. Orion never seemed small; he carried himself with such arrogance and pride, his head held so high he seemed a foot taller than he was. Yet right then, Orion looked small, trailing after his grandfather, quietly, as Voldemort observed them disappear up the stairwell leading to the Headmaster's chambers.

They left Dippet’s office not even a quarter of an hour after they entered it.

As soon as they emerged from it, the gargoyles closing the door behind them, old Black slapped Orion, the noise echoing down the hallway.

“Next time you pull something like this, do it on a weekday, you fool! If I’m woken up again at this ungodly hour on your account on a Sunday, you will be very sorry for it.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” Orion answers, in that unfazed tone of his.

The old man narrows his eyes. “What was it about, anyway? How did he provoke your ire?”

A second worth of silence. “He tried stealing from me.”

Orion gets hit again, harder this time. The heavy family ring rips the skin at the corner of his left eye, and that pure blood of theirs makes an appearance.

“Then why does he still have hands?” the old man hisses, enraged. “If someone attempts to take what is yours, you cut off their hands, boy!”

He slaps Orion again, just as harshly.

“Yes, Grandfather.” Orion doesn't take his eyes off his grandfather, doesn't wipe away the blood running down his cheek, his hands held behind his back.

Sirius Blacks huffs in displeasure, before turning on his heels and marching down the hallway. “Weakling,” he mutters.

Nothing happened to Orion. Not even the usual detention. No points taken.

Sirius Black insisted it was a formal duel, that the challenge had been accepted, and it was all done honourably, Slughorn told Voldemort, when he called him into his office to give him the Head Boy badge, temporarily, until Atticus recovered and would be able to return to Hogwarts and his duties.

“When Armando reminded him duels are illegal at Hogwarts, formal or not, Mr Black said rules are just words on parchment; that he’s a wizard, and he follows laws of magic, not of men.” Slughorn sighs, rubs at his temples, and then he takes a caramel out of his newest bribe-sweets bag that Abraxas gave him. “He told Mr Bulstrode that if he wants justice, then he should challenge him to a duel, and solve it like wizards ought to. Of course, Mr Bulstrode has more than one brain cell, so he refused and let it go.” He sighs again, points a sugar coated finger at Tom. “This is why I always told you not to seek trouble with Blacks. We’re lucky he’s apparently taken to drinking lately, locked up in his Manor, that he lets Arcturus handle most of their affairs, who is much milder and reasonable. But, once in a while, he gets out and you do not wish to run afoul of him.”

No one in the common room talked of it; only Walburga complained she was looking forward to going to the newly opened teashop in Hogsmeade, and demanded to know what was Orion’s problem with Atticus.

“A Quidditch thing,” Orion told her, with a shrug. “Don’t worry, Waly. I’ll take you to Madam Puddifoot’s.”

“I don’t want to go with my baby cousin, don’t be ridiculous! Malfoy, you will take me!”

Abraxas backs away, slowly. “I can’t, Walburga. I’m busy, I have to study,” he says, hastily, when Orion glares at him from behind Walburga.

It was the only time mild-tempered, well behaved Orion did something so outrageous that his unhinged grandfather had to come and solve it, so it was the only time Voldemort saw the man.

#my writing #it runs in the blood #canis major #black family insanity #Orion would commit murder for the chance to take Walburga on a date #wizarding world corruption #Blacks should stop naming boys Sirius because they all turn out insane

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Part 14

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 5371

Ao3 Link

Summary: Party plans are coming along, and your hard work is rewarded, but it seems like secrets keep on growing.

Author's Note: I am so jealous of our numbers girl 😭

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Fluff, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Degradation, Unprotected Sex (stay safe out there), Bondage, PIV Sex, Large Cock, Masturbation, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Comeshot, Dom Mihawk, Dom Crocodile, Switch(?) Buggy, Death Threats, VERY Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

So many hands and lips on your skin, yet all you could feel were the weight of those words.

“You would… ”

“I’ll cut them down for you,” Mihawk whispered, rubbing his face along your neck and ear until your back arched for him. “We’re the only ones that get to make my little rabbit cry. What are their names?”

Crocodile let out a low hum as he settled closer to you, kissing across your shoulder while Buggy smoothed his hands over your legs.

“I don’t…” you choked out, closing your eyes against the dizziness that spun through you. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” Crocodile soothed as he pulled you against him. “Let’s get some sleep. You can write up your kill list in the morning.”

A dream. This is all some crazy dream.

A soft whimper left you as the hot tears staining your cheeks were caught just in time, and you knew it was Buggy’s fingers wiping them away. You sputtered, breathing too fast as you tried to gulp down air, to swallow the overwhelm. Mihawk touched your cheek before letting Buggy join his hands, sliding his body between yours.

“Hey, pretty star,” he soothed, stroking your hair while you clung to him. “I’ve got you.”

~

“How’s my girl?”

Dreams of stormy seas pulled away as that deep voice warmed the back of your neck. 

“Good,” you hummed, Crocodile’s body pressing in behind you. Opening your eyes, you saw Buggy still asleep, having rolled away from you onto his back. Mihawk’s amber eyes shined at you, and your lips parted to see him curled around the clown, resting his head against the other man’s chest while he stared at you. 

“Good. It’s been ages since I had a decent hunting trip. None of your enemies happen to be swordsmen, do they?”

Buggy tensed awake, his body frozen like he was playing dead, while you just gaped at Mihawk. Their offer came rushing back into your stormy mind, and you had no idea what to do with it. 

I can’t.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

All the bodies on the mattress went still.

“You trust us, don’t you,” Crocodile rasped, his voice somehow toeing a line between soothing and threatening. “You can tell us what you want.”

“I told you what I want,” you mumbled, breath catching in fear yet again. Buggy’s hand found your arm, and his warning grip on you was the only movement on the massive bed.

What am I doing?

“Why don’t we get some breakfast,” Mihawk offered lightly. “I prefer discussing murder after my espresso anyway.”

~

There was such a strange tension while you prepared for the day, while Mihawk carried you to the balcony, while they all stared at you over their plates. Chewing the inside of your lip as you tried to eat, you felt their gaze like a weight over your shoulders.

You realized why the tension felt so strange. It felt like the air in a room after a couple’s spat. 

I’m not afraid they’ll hurt me. I’m afraid they’re mad. 

“I’m sorry,” you spilled out, eyes wide as you looked between them all. “I trust you, I’m just not ready to talk about my past right now. Especially if you want me to focus on the party. I don’t want to be distracted.”

You’d expected Buggy to react the best to your apology, but he kept a hint of worry, maybe even hurt in his eyes as he smiled. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” Crocodile nodded, lifting your chin toward him. “But I like secrets just about as much as I like lies. We can wait until after the party, but my patience won’t last forever.”

Mihawk chuckled softly as ice slid down to your gut, and it was only his prodding that got you to eat a decent amount of your meal before you were carried to your desk, your notebook and transponder snail pushed toward you. 

I hate this. I fucking hate this.

Falling into work mode, you schmoozed with your contacts as if you’d never left your old life. That itchy feeling crawled up your spine during every moment of silence, your loud, guilty thoughts only dulled by your work.

It was a long day.

You gratefully accepted a glass of velvety wine as you sat on the couch, Buggy across from you on that green chair. He had a pad of paper on his knee, twirling a pencil in his fingers with a silly amount of flair. He looked so fucking cute like this, his brow creased in thought while he looked up at the ceiling, quirking his lips before jotting down notes. Crocodile and Mihawk had very reluctantly put him in charge of the entertainment, and he was taking it quite seriously.

“We have a full list of attendees, and most will be arriving with a plus one. Here’s the details for the three backers I confirmed today, they’re donations will more than pay for the event,” you reported, pride pushing away some of that tension. “They will expect VIP treatment, of course, but that–”

“Amazing work, sweetheart,” Crocodile praised as he lit a cigar, puffing it a few times while you smiled up at him. 

“You really are a treasure, aren’t you,” Mihawk purred, flipping through your notes. “I’m curious though, what does this, “U,” mean?”

He set your list of contacts in your lap, flipping through a few pages to point out the clients you’d marked with that letter.

“All of your other descriptors are highly detailed, and not a single contact with that letter was invited to the party. Surely we should expand our list of potential backers as much as possible.”

“Let me see,” Crocodile huffed, grabbing your notes to toss on the coffee table. He leaned over them, flipping through the pages before pushing them aside. You let out a yelp of surprise when he grabbed you, but didn’t resist when he sat you on the table to face them both. 

“You just told us the invite list was full, yet you didn’t call any of these people with the letter, “U,” next to their names. Explain.”

His scarred face was like a force of nature, like looking into a sandstorm that you knew would swallow you whole. 

“It means un-unreliable,” you gasped, feeling the heat of their scrutiny against your skin. Your next words were hurried, but steadier. “I can call them if you want me to, and I would have if we hadn’t confirmed so many guests. But they talk too much, and they run in circles that could cause issues for the guild. A lot of them have connections to the Marines. I should have explained, I’m sorry.”

It’s not a lie. It’s not a lie. It’s not a lie.

“Why are you so afraid, little rabbit?” That whispered taunt made you shiver as Mihawk took your wine glass, before lifting one of your hands to his lips. “Did you just remember who we are? Only a few days of spoiling you, and you already forgot that you answer to us now, not some failed party clown.”

Crocodile leaned toward you, his hand on your thigh while he studied your face. 

“That idiot didn’t listen to your work, but I expect full reports from now on. You’ll tell us everything you’re doing and why you’re doing it, you got that?”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded, gratitude flooding you. 

“Good girl,” Mihawk teased, pulling you back onto the couch. “I would hate to punish you over a misunderstanding. That’s all it was, right?”

“Yeah,” you chirped, catching Buggy’s wide eyes. He looked away quickly, staring at his notes, but his cute thinking process was gone, the pencil not meeting the paper again. 

Thank gods for wine.

A few bottles amongst the group left the awkwardness behind, until nothing but their skin on yours remained. No need to hide on that bed, no need to be anything but theirs. 

That thought tugged you out for just a moment, but you smiled as you gave yourself to these three bad men, yet again.

I chose to be theirs.

~

The tension of that day faded, replaced by that comforting, delicious danger you were always in. They carried you from room to room for the next few days until a shipment arrived. Trunks were carted into the suite after dinner, and Buggy’s floating hands started to open them while you sat nude on the bed. 

“Get your grubby hands off her clothes,” Crocodile ordered lazily, pointing to the trunk on the right. “Bring that one here.”

It was hard to keep your eyes open while Mihawk kissed the back of your neck, long fingers leaving circles on your thighs, until Crocodile leaned down to kiss your cheek.

“Open this one.”

His deep voice was so soft, and you hummed as you reached for the clasp, lifting the heavy lid.

What the fuck?

“Well,” he asked, tapping the contents with his hook. “Do you like them, or should I send for something else?”

“N-no, I love them,” you squealed, grabbing a book from the pile, and running your fingers over the dragon on the cover. You flipped the pages, that lovely scent making you shiver. “Fantasy books…”

You laughed to yourself as you remembered that dinner on the balcony when he’d asked you what you like. Crawling onto his lap, you kissed up his neck while he let out a low chuckle. 

“Thank you, daddy.”

“Mm, anything for my sweet girl.”

“Yes, bring it to the door,” Mihawk ordered into the transponder snail, pulling your attention for a moment, which the scarred man pulled back when he fisted his hand into your hair, sucking marks onto your neck. 

The movements and voices in the room didn’t distract you this time, until a very particular sound rang through the air. 

A meow.

“Really,” Crocodile asked dryly when you left his arms, searching for that sound. 

Mihawk stood by the door, a smug smile tugging at his lips before he met your eyes.

“Would you like to hold him, darling?”

“Why…”

“You like cats, don’t you?”

Your brain paused, the cognitive dissonance these men kept putting you through making it hard to think. 

But another meow from the little brown tabby in Mihawk’s arms shook you loose, and soon you were sitting on the plush carpet, laughing while Buggy floated a gloved hand around like a toy for the cat to chase. 

“Look at all of our pets on the floor,” Mihawk laughed, setting a hand on Crocodile’s shoulder, removing it at the larger man’s narrowed eyes. “Come now, you’re not a fan of animals?”

“I prefer scales to fur,” he grumbled, meeting your smile with a sigh. “And I was hoping not to have to share Y/N’s attention with anymore men.”

You giggled, the furry man in question already bumping his head along your legs, and climbing onto your lap. 

“Does he have a name,” you asked, grinning as your new cat tried to crawl up to your shoulders, rubbing his face along your chin. 

“Not that I’m aware of. He was a stray.”

The image of Mihawk hunting the island for stray cats was too much, so you put it out of your mind while you searched for a name. 

“Adam.”

All three men repeated you, each with a hilariously different tone.

“That’s the least flashiest name ever,” Buggy pouted, scratching behind Adam’s ears. 

“Surprisingly, I agree,” Mihawk chided, tilting his head like a hawk about to fly down to steal the poor cat from your hands. “Why–”

“Why Adam?”

Crocodile’s interruption made everyone but Adam go silent, too much weight in the simple question. Heat rushed to your face, and you blinked up into his serious eyes. 

“It’s from a story my dad used to tell me,” you confessed, closing your eyes as you smiled at the memory of his voice. “About a magic tree that survived endless wars. People kept coming back after the island was destroyed, and they’d rebuild around that invincible tree, the—”

“The Jewel Tree Adam,” Buggy asked, his blue eyes shining as he scooted closer. “It’s not just a story. I sailed on a boat made from a Jewel Tree.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, stealing a kiss from those red lips before anyone could stop you. 

“That wood’s been sold on the black market. It’s rare, but it’s real,” Crocodile asserted. Once again, your mind stopped functioning, Adam bringing you back again, this time with his paw reaching toward your face. 

“So it is a flashy name,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at Buggy.

“Barely,” he rolled his eyes as Mihawk sighed in defeat. 

You helped Buggy arrange Adam’s things in the suite, until Mihawk pulled the cat away from you. 

“Don’t worry, darling. I had my old suite set up for our furry friend. He’ll be across the hall in his own little castle while we rip you apart. I’m sure you wouldn’t want the poor thing to see what we’re about to do to you.”

“You set up…” 

“I’ll show you the cat paradise tomorrow,” he huffed a laugh, petting Adam as he lounged comfortably in his arms. “Now be a good little rabbit for me, and I’ll try to convince Sir Crocodile to let the cat sleep in here when we’re done.”

“Not happening,” Crocodile drawled, hanging up his robe before sitting on the edge of the bed, patting his knee. “Why don't you finish thanking me, since we were so rudely interrupted earlier?”

His satisfied smile made your skin flush as you moved toward him, and you saw his cock twitching beneath his boxers, growing as he watched your bare skin. It made your mouth fall open with need, and with caution that you didn’t think would ever go away. 

“Mm, is my sweet girl still scared of her daddy,” he taunted, palming himself through the thin fabric. 

“But what about...” you started, turning around as Mihawk returned to the room. “I didn't try on any of the clothes.”

“It’s too late for that now,” Mihawk laughed, walking toward you until you backed up against Crocodile, those large thighs surrounding you. “It looks like your daddy wants to check how well you fit something else, isn’t that right?”

“I know she’ll fit just fine. Huh, babydoll,” he pulled you to him, moaning softly at your desperate noises, and your instinctive writhing when your ass rubbed against his hard length. “Did you like daddy’s present?”

“Mhm.”

“Not as much as she li–”

“Why don’t you go sleep in your little cat paradise,” Crocodile cut Mihawk off, his shifting attention keeping you from relaxing into him. 

“I’ve got another pussy in mind for tonight,” the swordsman quipped, and you gasped as a floating hand grabbed yours, tugging you out of reach. 

Buggy wrapped himself around you from behind, so you were caught in his warmth as you both looked at the frightening men in front of you.

“When you fight, she wants me.”

Buggy’s words made you feel too many things at once. They felt sweet, and sad, and territorial, and you didn’t know how to react.

“Is that true, little rabbit,” Mihawk asked, danger growing in his voice. “Do you want the clown?”

Oh, that sounds like a punishment waiting to happen. 

But I can’t lie.

“I do.”

Buggy’s soft noise made you melt against him, until you pressed against that heavy need of his, both of you reacting to the touch.

“Do you see this, Crocodile,” Mihawk gestured toward you with a wicked smirk. “It seems she didn’t like either of our gifts. Would you rather have what this clown can give you?”

You’d started to shake just a bit, not knowing which direction you should turn. Mihawk’s words always seemed to twist you where he wanted you anyway. 

Crocodile took pity on you, clearing up the question. 

“Sweetheart, would it make you happy to fuck that stupid clown?”

Buggy let out another squeak, but he pulled away from you slightly, so you wouldn’t feel how much he needed you. 

“It would make me happy.”

As if he couldn’t help it, Buggy pressed against you again, making you gasp as he rubbed his clothed cock along the meat of your ass, pretty little noises leaving his throat. 

Mihawk charged toward you, and you couldn’t help but noticed the hard weight of his cock through his silk pajama pants. He gave an evil little smirk as he looked down at you, grabbing your cheeks to tilt your face.

“Such a spoiled little rabbit. We give you so many things, so many gifts, but that’s not enough, is it? My precious little slut needs another toy. Needs another cock, even when she’s all stuffed up. What do you think, Crocodile? Does she deserve another gift tonight?”

“Maybe my sweet girl hasn’t realized she’s grown out of her old toys.”

Mihawk’s laugh was sharp, too pleased, and your breath caught when he kissed you, and then Buggy on the cheek. 

“Good point, sandman. Alright, little treasure, we showered you with gifts tonight, and now you get to play with your old favorite toy. Let’s see if it’s still as much fun to play with after we’ve been spoiling you so much.”

You were frozen when Mihawk gestured toward the bed, but Buggy picked you up, floating you to the center of the mattress before crawling up your body, caging you in. 

“This okay, star,” he whispered, barely audible. It woke you up, and you nodded with a smile before he kissed you.

“Just a moment, pets,” Mihawk called, bringing your eyes to him. He and Crocodile pulled the couch all the way up to the bed, staring with hungry eyes that made you shiver. “We want to see if your old toy is still worth playing with. Croc, what do you think her minimum is with us?”

“Four. Minimum,” he said, voice rough as he pulled his boxers off, his massive dick like a looming threat. 

“That sounds about right,” Mihawk agreed as he followed suit, stripping before lounging on the couch, his thick cock drawing your eyes as it twitched slightly. “Let’s see if this toy can pull four orgasms out of our little whore, since she wants to keep it so badly.”

“What if he can’t,” Crocodile asked, his voice full of more dangerous humor than he usually had with Mihawk’s games. 

“There are so many pretty holes on that bed,” Mihawk threatened, his eyes raking over your skin, and Buggy’s as the clown stripped. “If she’s wrong about him after going against our wishes, I think we should break her, and her stupid toy.”

“You hear that, sweet girl,” Crocodile rasped, fingers moving lightly down his shaft, then pressing upward until you noticed that lovely bead of precum start to spill down the side. “Daddy keeps telling you to get over that pathetic clown, but you don’t fucking listen. This is your one chance to prove he’s worth it. If he can’t fuck you properly, then I’m gonna ruin you. Daddy’s cock is gonna tear you into pretty little pieces. You got that?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whined, back arching while Mihawk laughed at you. 

“Should we roll dice to see which hole gets destroyed first,” he smirked, seeming absolutely giddy watching you writhe. His hungry eyes flicked to Buggy as the clown crawled back to you, holding himself above your body. “I suppose it’s show time isn’t it. Go on, clown. Make my little rabbit scream, unless you want to be a useless toy for the rest of your life.”

The insults still made you cringe, but Buggy smiled at you, that gorgeous, blue hair falling down around you like a curtain. 

“Will you be my flashy girl,” he rasped, eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes. “Will you put on a real good show for me?”

“Yes, captain,” you breathed, moaning as he swallowed your smile with a needy kiss. 

“She’ll get that paint all over her,” Crocodile grumbled, but that was the last you heard from them as Buggy left trails of kisses and soft bites down your body, leaving your skin tingling while you laughed.

A gloved hand teased around your face, fingers pressing between your lips until you bit the fabric. He kissed your knees, grinning as you pulled his glove off with your teeth, like you had so many times before. He mirrored you with his other hand, tossing them off the side of the bed like a strip tease. 

Your breath caught when he positioned himself between your legs, so very close to where you needed him. 

“Want me to do that thing you like,” he asked, the heat and confidence in his words making your head tilt back before you could answer.

“Please, Bugs, I need you… ”

“Of course you do,” he agreed, tracing his face down your inner thigh until his breath teased your core. “No one can make you feel how I can, huh, baby?”

Dangerous words. 

Dangerous truth.

“No one, Buggy, please.”

“I’ve got you, gorgeous,” he purred as his hands pulled yours above your head, leaving one hand to trap yours there while the other caressed your body, toying with your chest. “Sing for your captain.”

Sloppy kisses to your clit made you squirm for him, whining as he sucked and teased, until you begged for more.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear ya down here. Whatcha need, dollface?”

“Gods, your tongue, your nose, Buggy, please.”

“Mm, your pretty pussy missed me that much?”

He chuckled as you whined for him, then tilted his face down to rub that perfect nose over and around your sensitive clit. Part of you heard voices, maybe laughter from the couch, but you were too busy pouting, still begging for more. 

“Your nose feels so good, baby. Give me more, please,” you pleaded as you shifted your hips, fighting for more friction. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” he winked, shoving his face into your dripping cunt while you cried out his name. 

It always felt like he was designed for this, that round nose giving the perfect pressure as he tasted you. You could feel him rutting against the mattress, his needy movements adding to the rhythm. 

That floating hand massaging your chest focused in, and the teasing pinch to your nipple was enough to push you over the edge. He kept that rhythm and pressure to your clit while you came, and you laughed when he yelled “one,” before returning to his work.

“Do you want me deep?”

His eyes were dark, and heavy with need as he checked in. The sight of his drenched, messy face made you moan, taking a few breaths before you could answer.

“I want you so bad, Buggy, please. You make me feel so good,” you praised, gasping as that teasing hand wrapped fingers around your throat, warning, but not squeezing yet. 

“Want me–”

“Choke me, Buggy, fucking take m–”

So many sensations at once. That lovely hand around your neck pressing tight, his face diving into your core as his nose circled your clit again, and his tongue going deep. 

He licked and tasted you, like he was licking his plate clean, but that wicked tongue went further. 

It had freaked you out a bit when he first tried it on you, but there was nothing in the world that could compare to Buggy’s tongue sinking all the way into you, that thick muscle tasting parts of you that no one could touch. It circled around inside you on its own until he found that sweet, spongy spot.

His tongue fucked into that spot, and tears streamed from your eyes while you screamed his name through his choking grasp. He didn’t let up as you rode through that orgasm, just released your throat to raise two fingers toward the couch. 

“Gods, oh fuck, Buggy. It’s too mu–”

His hand clamped over your mouth, and he lifted just enough to shake his head, his tongue too busy for him to reply. He released your face, that hand teasing along your body while he kept up his attack, until he pressed his palm against your lower stomach.

The pressure of his tongue ramming against you from the inside meeting his hand felt like being hit by a fucking train. Your hands almost broke free as you spasmed, the sheer force of pleasure turning you into nothing but twitching, desperate flesh while you came on Buggy’s face.

Your vision came back slowly, sweet hands smoothing over your skin. The feel of his tongue sliding out of you to return to its rightful place arched your back, aftershocks rolling through you. 

“Three,” Buggy bragged, leaving kisses on your arm. You hummed, hardly able to open your eyes.

“Ah, but the goal was four,” Mihawk taunted, his voice tensing through Buggy’s body beside you, “and it doesn’t look like Miss Y/N is able to finish the show. What do you think, Crocodile?”

“She knows what’s gonna happen to her,” he growled, and you rolled your head to the side to watch those frightening gray eyes. He looked at you like you were the last bit of food on a desert island, and his hand fisting over himself made your eyes roll back. 

“The show must go on,” Buggy laughed nervously, his well earned confidence already floating away. 

You reached out to him, your arms shaking until he crawled up your body. You returned his little smile, goosebumps rolling over your skin at the feel of him with you, and all he’d done. 

“Fuck me,” you whispered, voice hoarse from him. He looked you over, eyes pouring over your features, until he gave you another smile, wide and wicked. 

“Anything for my star.”

He wasted no time, his thick cock pushing into you easily with all the work he’d done. He let out little whimpers, and you clenched around him, wanting him so fucking bad. But he shook himself, rolling his hips into you as he brought a thumb to dance along your clit. 

“You like putting on a show,” he asked, his voice a bit strained as he fought himself. “I knew you were a star, and you’ve got the audience wrapped around your little finger, huh? Look at how hard their cocks are just for you. Give them a show, baby.”

Buggy’s breathing went rough as he fucked into you harder. He grabbed your cheeks, your lips pressing out as he made you look at them. 

Oh fuck.

Crocodile and Mihawk both had their cocks in their hands, jerking themselves off at the sight of you.

“Buggy, I’m–”

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so fucking perfect…”

He held you close as you fell to pieces together. His racing heart, his ragged breaths, and the scent of his skin felt delicious. Even with the twitching of his cock as he spilled his come into you, even with the orgasm that rocked through you, the overwhelming feeling you had in Buggy’s arms was comfort.

“You feeling good, gorgeous,” he asked softly, kissing along your jaw.

“So good,” you hummed, gasping as he twitched inside you, your body clenching around his. 

“Well done, toys,” Mihawk praised as the weight on the bed shifted. “Now, open wide.”

“You looked so pretty for daddy,” Crocodile praised while Mihawk pulled Buggy off of you. “Be a good girl, and tell me where you want it.”

He bit his lower lip while you stared at his veiny cock, so fucking close. 

“My face. Come on my face, daddy, please.”

“Fuck, gods damn,” he groaned with a breathless laugh. “You are such a good girl. Mm, lick the tip for me sweet– fuck.”

You could already feel his come dripping down your skin when you reached out to taste him, his last shuddering moan making him thrust lightly against your mouth. 

“Look at you,” he purred, tracing his thumb over your lips after you licked them clean. 

“Our pets have been very well behaved today,” Mihawk praised, moving close beside the larger man before gesturing toward Buggy’s come-covered face. You let out a giggle, then tried to apologize when he met your eyes. 

“Not the matching face paint I was thinking of, but I’ll take it,” he interrupted with a wink, earning very subtle, but real chuckles from the other men on the bed. 

Crocodile pulled you against his chest, and you realized that in this moment you felt comfort with all three of these bad men. You grinned to yourself at the thought of what home meant to you while you watched Mihawk play with the come that had spilled down to Buggy’s chest. 

“Let’s get cleaned up, pets,” he said brightly, managing to crawl gracefully out of the bed. “We can’t have Adam curling up on these sticky sheets.”

“No cats on the bed,” Crocodile ordered, frowning at your pouting lip. “Don’t you start.”

“Sorry, daddy,” you laughed as you rolled away from him. 

Buggy grabbed your hand, and you laughed your way to the bathroom, leaving the other men to argue about the new furry roommate. Buggy tossed you a washcloth, and you both wiped what you could of those men off of your skin before he started the shower. He pulled you in to press you against the far wall. 

“There’s something I didn’t get to tell you before…” he whispered, tilting his nose away so he could be closer to your face while the water drowned out his words. “Can I tell you now, pretty star?”

His deep blue eyes seemed deeper than you’d ever seen, and your breath caught in your throat. 

Why am I tense? 

“Okay,” you managed to whisper, waiting to breathe properly again. 

He nodded a few times as he looked down, before cradling your face, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks. 

“I know things are– well you know how it is, but…” he trailed off, scanning your face as if watching every movement. 

“Buggy…”

“I love you, Y/N,” he confessed, his brows lifting high as his breathing seemed heavy, heavier as he waited for you to reply. He stared at your parted lips until more words hurried out of him. “I loved you before, and I still love you now. You’re my pretty star, no matter what, right?”

The worry in his voice broke you out of your stupor, and you wrapped your arms around him. 

“Buggy, I–”

He pulled you under the water, the heat making you gasp as the door to the bathroom opened.

“Here you are, pets. Sir Crocodile’s list of expectations if Adam is to stay with us.”

Mihawk dropped a pad of paper onto the counter, cocking his head at you both while Crocodile followed close behind. 

“Why haven’t you started on that hair? It’s late enough as it is,” Mihawk tutted, and you couldn’t keep your mouth from falling open as you watched Mihawk take Buggy’s long hair into his hands. Buggy’s eyes fluttered shut at the swordsman’s touch, but his words kept ringing in your ears, even as Crocodile smiled at you, hunching down to rinse his hair. 

Adam wasn’t allowed in tonight, so it was just the four of you climbing onto that giant bed, four of you pressed in so close. You and Buggy curled in against each other’s chests, with Crocodile around your back, and Mihawk curling around Buggy to lay his long fingers somewhere along your side. 

Tonight Mihawk’s fingers teased along your ribs, his thumb almost tickling as it played down your stomach. Crocodile kissed the back of your head, and your comforting sleeping arrangement was complete. 

Something about the way Buggy held you felt different. 

Is it different? Or did I just not notice it before?

His breathing was slow, and the way he stroked your hair and pressed his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss should have been comforting. 

You should have fallen asleep by now. 

Instead, you laid there as the three men around you fell asleep. You laid there in the most comfortable, most comforting position you’d ever been in. 

But you couldn’t fall asleep. 

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

a/n: BUGGYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!! 😭🤡

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Part 15

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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#cross guild smut #mihawk smut #sir crocodile smut #buggy smut #one piece smut #cross guild x reader #mihawk x reader #sir crocodile x reader #buggy x reader #crocodile x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #one piece x reader #x reader #one piece fanfic #buggy fanfiction #dracule mihawk x reader #smut #use of y/n #turtletaub fics

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 9 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: phew! this took me five million years and a bag of candy to write. remember when I told you to remember the house layout? 😉 Enjoy!

small mention: I absolutely love knowing you all are curious about the next chapter of this series. I appreciate and love all comments I get, and try to keep all my promises I make. but, trust I’m human too and need some away from writing. Though, when rude and harassing words are used in my inbox- the joy of writing this series gets absolutely sucked away. (If I’ve answered your message, this isn’t about your comment 🫶) so, please keep your rude words to yourself or I’ll turn off anonymous inbox messages and block you the next time :)

W/C: 4.016

part eight

"I should've just taken a break to go on vacation."

Lina sighs, poking her salad with her fork, and guiding the mixture of greens and dressing up to her mouth.

"Didn't you take a trip to Paris last international break?"

Luis says, raising a brow at her words. He turns his head towards me, nudging me under the table.

"Can you believe her?" He asks, an exasperated chuckle leaving his lips. It causes me to jolt out of my half-asleep state, my eyes widening in surprise.

"What? Who?" I ask looking around and bring a hand up to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

I had rushed out of the house this morning, which meant everyone got the chance to admire my bare skin today.

Well, my stress-induced breakouts were on full display, but having some pimples wasn’t the end of the damn world anyway.

"Are you okay?" Lina joins in, placing a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, just dozed off- been sleeping horribly." I reply, eyeing my lunch with a grimace.

"Are those exams still keeping you up?"

"More like waking me up.. Do you know how many nightmares of failing an exam a person can take?” I say, my words coming out harsher and louder than I intended. My eye twitches in irritation, and I give them a crazy look.

"Woah, you have an attitude today.." Luis mutters, shifting away from me.

"Don’t piss her off.." I hear Lina say, nudging Luis.

"Never mind, I'm going back to work." I state, quickly putting my tray of food away and walking out of the cafeteria.

I mutter curses under my breath, trying to look as normal as possible to my coworkers when I pass them in the hallways.

Exam season was practically sucking the life out of me, and the added pressure of the upcoming Champions League home game against Napoli was multiplying the stress.

Thankfully, it was international break, which meant that my normal workload was cut in half. Some players not playing for in the national team had requested leave for vacation, so the training center was pretty quiet and empty today.

I only knew of injured players being here for their scheduled recovery appointments.

I finally get back in my office, sighing in exhaustion when I get to my desk. I plop down, rubbing my face to wake myself up further, before starting to work on some more content.

"Why are you grinning like a creep?"

I turn to Luis, chuckling at his choice of words, and let go of the computer mouse.

"I just got a notification that said I passed my written exam." I beam, giving him a cocky look.

"Really?"

"Yeah, ninety-four percent..” I say, turning my head to look at the editing program. The training video we had just shot halfway edited already.

"You've been snapping at us for no reason, but I guess it was worth it- good job.." He says, shooting me a smile, and leaning in to give me a side hug.

"Yeah, sorry about that.." I apologize, fixing my wrinkled shirt. I move my hand towards the mouse again, cutting off a piece of blurry footage that we couldn’t use.

"It's fine, I guess it's payback for making you do random tasks back when you were a newbie.."

"You know, I haven't forgotten how you made me carry that heavy ass bag every morning..”

"I'm sorry, alright. You should've told me earlier that Ancelotti is basically your uncle."

I grumble at his words, jabbing his ribcage with my elbow, sending him a warning look.

"Stop talking and help me out with this.." I mutter, passing him the mouse.

He winces a little, rubbing his stomach, before snatching the mouse off of me with an attitude.

"Didn't know you were allowed to use your privilege to inflict such violence."

I roll my eyes, focused on the moving images on the computer screen. Starting to unconsciously pick at a fresh scab on my hand. Only noticing the damage I’ve done when I look down to see blood trickling down the back of my hand.

"Shit, made myself bleed.." I say, making Luis glance away from the dual monitors.

"Go to the physiotherapy room. They have a shit ton of bandages and bandaids.” He suggests, his hand going up to fix the curls falling in front of his eyes.

I nod quickly, getting up from my seat and walking out of the small, soundproof meeting room. I close the glass door behind me, hurrying over to the physiotherapy room.

I pass the glass panels facing the multiple pitches outside, the sun had been shining brightly this afternoon. Even though the sun had been setting quite early due to daylight saving time.

I knock twice when I arrive, only opening the door when I hear a loud 'come in' in response.

I clear my throat, realizing how silly it is to get a bandaid for a wound like this, but still walk in.

I'm greeted by the sight of first-team physiotherapist Iván, he smiles when he notices me, waving for me to come inside.

He was one of the nicest people working with me at Real Madrid. It would be especially fun when he would bring in his little two-year-old son with him. I couldn’t count on one hand how many times I had carried the cute boy around the training center in my free time.

"Oh, y/n. What brings you here?" He questions, shoving the white privacy curtain out of the way, only to reveal a shirtless Jude lying on the treatment table, his eyes opening to peer over at me.

The personalized shoulder brace he'd been wearing for the past couple matches, was taken off for obvious reasons, and placed on the other side of the bed.

I look away a moment later, feeling my chest tighten, internally wincing at the thought of Jude having a dislocated shoulder and still playing football. Despite all of the aggressive and offensive play we had gotten used to this season, he was handling it well- but I wouldn’t ever utter it out loud.

Because- who wants to inflate that ego even more? Or was that even possible?

"Hi, Iván.. Just wondering if you got a bandaid for me?" I avert my gaze to the physio, and raise my brows. I hold my hand up to show the wound, and smile when he nods in response.

"Yeah, just a second.." He shoots Jude a quick wink, washing his hands before coming over. He begins to rummage through the cabinet, flipping through a pack of bandaids before handing me one closest to my skin color.

"Here you go.. Do you need anything else?" He asks, eyeing the blood on my hand.

"Nope, only this. Thank you.." I smile, quickly wiping down the blood from my hand and gently placing the bandaid on my wound.

I throw the bloody wipes and wrappers in the dedicated trash can, turning around again when I’m done.

I make accidental and involuntary eye contact with Jude instead of Iván, who's already across the room busy with some paperwork. Probably documenting the progress of Jude’s injury.

My eyes automatically dart down to his shoulder, and unbelievably, my eyes slip to his chest, then to his-

I stiffen when I regain consciousness of what I’m doing, and look away with haste. I fight the urge to smack myself in the face, instead biting the flesh of my cheek when I notice him smirk at me.

"What are you looking at?" He questions, voice low and his cocky tone too obvious to ignore.

My eyes widen slightly when he speaks, and I take a step forward as if to say I’m not intimidated.

"Just- looking at your shoulder.." I say, cringing at the way the words leave my mouth.

"So, you’re worried about me now?"

I give him a look of disgust, a chuckle of disbelief leaving my mouth.

"You wish, Bellingham. I heard Ancelotti is confident in putting you in the starting lineup on Wednesday. You better put your best foot forward, and if we don’t end up winning..." I trail off, threatening him slightly with my tone. I then turn around and leave the room.

I couldn’t lie, being rude to him after he'd dislocated his shoulder and still played made me feel a little guilty.

Though, he had a huge gift of being the ultimate douchebag, even when he’d been having his 'decent' moments lately.

���He’s only turned nineteen two- no three months ago, and he’s already scoring in the Champions League..” Luis gawks, grabbing the equipment bag out of my hand.

“I know, it’s so fun to see young players flourish..” I mutter, mentally recalling the interview I just did with Nico Paz. Since it was his first goal for Real Madrid, we had just done an interview in celebration.

“He is a year younger than you.. Is he really that young to you?” Luis teases, pushing me away when I pretend to kick him.

“What? Are you trying to undermine my accomplishments?” I question, trying to kick him again.

“Hey! See, this is how immature you are.. Step back, dude get off…” He says, and I scuffle with him for a moment, gasping when he tries to put me in a headlock.

“Okay, you always do this- stop everyone is looking..” I mutter, squeezing his arm.

“How fuckin’ childish are you?” I hear a familiar voice say. I snap my head up, Luis’ arm loosening as he immediately lets me go.

“As much as I want to be...” I state, my hand traveling up to fix my hair and clothes.

I hear Jude scoff, he gives me a nasty look before taking a step forward, but I notice him freeze in my peripheral vision when he hears someone calling out to me.

“y/n?!” The person shouts, and I look around for a moment before my eyes land on…

The guys from Naples?

What’s his name again?

“Chris?..” I say, my voice low and as enthusiastic as I can manage to pretend.

Fuck, I never even answered his DM’s..

Well, should I really give a guy who looks like trouble a chance?

My common sense says: NO.

I watch him bring an arm around my back, his hand resting on my shoulder blade when he hugs me tightly. Like we’ve been friends for freaking years…

“How have you been? Thought I’d see you here..” He beams, his hand going up to fix the fluffy mop of blonde hair on his head. Aussie accent undeniably mesmerizing like last time.

He is so pretty, but the kind of pretty that told me he was a full on man-wh*re..

“Hi? Good, what are you doing here?” I ask, trying to stop the grimace forming on my face. I lean in, taking a closer look at the badge hanging from his neck.

Surprisingly enough, it says ‘VIP’- I look up at him with a questioning look, waiting for him to explain.

“Oh- this.. someone I know gifted me this pass..”

Yeah, very believable.

He smiles nonchalantly, the skin of his cheeks denting as his dimples show.

I nod as if I understand, glancing at Luis, so he can get me out of this conversation.

“You’re the drunk guy from that night!” Chris suddenly exclaims, pointing at Luis.

Could this get even more awkward.

I tune out the stupid conversation they have, shuffling backwards only to bump into Jude.

Thankfully, not against his injured shoulder.

“Oh, sorry..” I whisper, not even registering his response before he’s rudely interrupted.

“Man- no way you’re the Jude Bellingham..”

I close my eyes in embarrassment, turning around to face Jude instead of both Luis and Chris.

I raise my brows at Jude, giving him a look only readable as ‘send this man away’..

He immediately plasters an all too good, fake smile on his face. Stepping behind me to greet Chris, and begins talking to him about the match.

I can only hear a jumble of both Brum and Aussie accents, it making me want to burst into a fit of laughter. Though, I manage to keep it in, looking at Luis to see if he’s still present in the conversation.

He isn’t, as expected. No surprise, he’s fidgeting with his damn camera again.

I stand there like a statue for the next two minutes, looking back and forth between the two accented men.

It’s a comical sight, especially when I can’t even understand some words.

I sigh in relief when Jude pats Chris’ shoulder, careful with his injury when he goes in for a handshake.

I watch Jude leave swiftly, his facial expression falters immediately, and his hand goes up to rip the shoulder brace off his body, harsher than I’ve ever seen him do before.

"My brain is going to explode, fucks sake.."

I mumble, stretching my arms and legs. I get up from the dinner table in order to walk around the backyard for a moment. Trying to get some fresh air, even though it's past midnight already.

I loved studying at the dinning table way more than upstairs in my room. It felt less lonely- especially since my dad had been gone for a couple weeks now. His work and the case had taken an interesting turn, which meant that his stay had to be prolonged.

I didn't mind, in fact, I loved living alone. Except for when I heard random noises at night. It could've been a bird flying against the window, and I’d still be paranoid.

Since it was our day off, after winning 2-0 against Napoli yesterday- I thought I'd go ahead and continue cramming for my last exam I had in a couple days.

I yawn and stretch my limbs, looking up at the clear sky and stars. It had gotten so much colder since December was almost here.

My pajama shorts are not providing warmth, but I can’t be bothered to go up and change when I’m going back inside in a minute anyway.

I can hear my back cracking when I turn to stretch, making me chuckle. I was only twenty, but those hard ass chairs and sitting in them for long periods of time, made me feel like I was double my age sometimes.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when I hear my phone ring loudly from the dinning table. I jog back inside quickly, throwing my slippers off my feet and snatch my phone. Confusion settling on my face when I read the caller ID.

I immediately pick up, pressing the phone against my ear. Worrying about something horrible happening in the middle of the night.

"Dad? It's late, something wrong?" I say in one breath, left hand clutching the backrest of my chair.

"y/n, nothings wrong. I just need you to listen carefully..”

"Okay." I spit out, just wanting him to get to the point, my brain making up all types of things.

"It's concerning one of my clients. Something unexpected just happened, and he's going to have to stay over at ours for a while."

I pause at his words, frowning in confusion, even though he can’t see my face.

"What? So, you're calling me- because I need to let an unfamiliar guy into our house- so he can sleep here? Is it a criminal?”

I gasp, hand gripping my phone tighter.

“A murderer?! Dad! How can you-”

"-y/n.." He cuts me off, voice stern, but I’m able to hear the grogginess of his tone. He'd probably been sleeping before he was awakened.

"It's no stranger- it's Jude, okay? He's not safe in his own home- relating the case I took on. I offered for him to stay over out of concern for his safety. So, he's going to have to stay with- you for a while."

I stay quiet, taking in all of the information he's giving me. I can already feel a migraine creeping up on me, letting go of my chair to massage my temple with one hand.

"I have to get the guest room- ready?" I say, processing everything and trying to understand what I’m supposed to do.

"Yes, I know you two are- friendly. Please be understanding and responsible. I'll call you in the morning, just get him settled and go to bed. You got that, honey?"

"Yeah, I got it. Uh- I'll get the room ready.." I say, already walking up the stairs and into the guest bedroom.

"Good, again- I'll call you in the morning- good night, sweetie.."

I quickly hang up after saying goodbye, running around, and making the bedroom look presentable. I change the bedsheets and wipe the dust off the vanity with a swift motion. It takes me about ten minutes and a sweaty forehead, before the doorbell rings repeatedly.

I run down the stairs, almost tripping due to my haste.

I take a deep breath when I reach the front door, trying to collect my thoughts and feelings before swinging the door open.

Jude's house was unsafe to stay in, so he's staying here- right..

The front door squeaks when I open it. An exhausted-looking Jude entering my sight, his black suitcase is on the floor, to his right- looking like it’s about to burst at its seams.

Cold air greets my face and naked legs almost instantly, making me curse internally for not changing clothes earlier.

I was too stubborn for my own good..

"Hi- umh, come in?" I say, my voice hoarse as if I hadn't spoken out loud in weeks.

He nods awkwardly, mumbling something incoherent as he begins rolling his suitcase inside.

I motion for him to take his shoes off, which he promptly does without hesitation. I turn away, grabbing some house slippers for him to wear out of the shoe rack.

I throw them next to his feet, watching his eyes flicker up and down as he steps back for a moment.

"You alright?" I ask, worried about the lack of words he's using.

It was unlike him, whether we’re arguing about some stupid shit or I’m filming an interview- he always had something to say.

"Yeah, I'm fine.." He mutters, looking up and finally making eye contact with me.

"The bedroom is upstairs.." I trail off, reaching over to grab his suitcase, but he snatches the heavy luggage up with one hand, immediately making his way up the stairs.

I watch the muscles in his arm flex as I walk behind him. I stop dead in my tracks when I realize what I’m doing and practically start running up the stairs to catch up to him.

I walk ahead of him when we reach the top of the stairs, opening the guest bedroom door for him.

"This is your room, bathroom is there, and the laundry room is over there." I point, turning around to face him.

"Thanks.." His Brum accent is thick, and he looks at me like a lost man in crisis.

I clear my throat, unable to pick between being nice and acting like how we normally interacted.

"Are- do you want to go shower?" I mutter, raising my brows.

I only realize how wrong my sentence sounds the second it leaves my mouth. To cover my embarrassment, I clear my throat again, putting my hands behind my back.

"Yeah- I should.." He responds, and I step aside to let him in the bedroom.

"I'll be downstairs.."

I inform, running down the stairs the second he shuts the door behind him.

I rub my eyes aggressively when I walk into the living room area. Sitting on the couch, I wonder if this is some delusional fever dream.

Maybe it’s just a different genre of dreams, next to those nightmares I had about failing exams.

I mean- who can make this up?

I get up to my feet again, walk up to the fridge, and begin filling up a huge glass with water. I bring the cup up to my lips, and slowly sip on the cool liquid, hoping it will help me feel grounded again.

I exhale deeply when I'm halfway through the cup. Going for my last gulp of water again, I fill my mouth with the rest of the water. My cheeks almost exploding from the amount of water in my mouth.

Suddenly, I'm absolutely- fucking-scared shitless as I'm poked in between my shoulder blades. I turn around in a shift motion, accidentally spraying out the water in my mouth- onto a shirtless Jude's chest.

My eyes almost bug out of my head in shock. My jaw slacks open when I observe the aftermath.

He can only look at me with a blank face. I can’t detect any emotion in his face, but he’s probably equally as mortified as me.

"Shit- sorry.." I blurt, turning around, and grabbing a kitchen towel. I scramble for a second, and start to vigorously..wipe.. his..chest..

I only realize I'm rubbing on his chest like I’m giving him a damn massage- mid-wipe and freeze.

My body goes rigid and my hands are resting on his now dry, naked chest.

I look up at him, only seeing part of his face with help from the dim lights in the kitchen. My breathing slows down, and he looks down at me in return.

I can feel my heart pounding in my ribcage, and I'm sure anyone within meters of me could hear.

His skin is soft and warm underneath my fingertips-

"I- was going to ask how the shower works.." Jude whispers, his warm breath hitting my face. I can make out his brown eyes peering into mine, a series of unspoken and caged words behind them.

His words make me stop breathing for a moment. I remove my hands off of him at lightning speed, the kitchen towel falling to the floor mindlessly and I step back immediately.

"Oh- yeah, sure. Follow me.." I scramble a couple words together, my brain working overtime. I walk up the stairs again. Leading him into the bathroom, noticing he had left the lights on, his discarded shirt on the bathroom counter.

"Here- left is hot, right is cold. This is the best temperature.." I instruct, pointing when necessary and don’t dare to look up at him as he stands behind me.

"This button is for the radio and this one for the ventilation.." I say, pressing some buttons to show him how they work.

"Okay.." He breaths out, his warm breaths hitting the back of my neck. I can practically feel his eyes drilling into the back of my head.

I finally turn to look at him, dragging my gaze up to make awkward eye contact with him.

"Anything else?" I ask, voice low and I begin fidgeting with the hem of my shorts.

"Not really..” He replies, sentence dragged out by his accent.

"Umh- okay.. laundry hamper is there. I'll be in my room.." I trail off, pointing my thumb behind me, and walk out of the bathroom without saying anything else.

I quickly clean up the mess I - no, he caused in the kitchen. I wipe everything down properly and grab my laptop and stationary off the dining table.

I carefully lock the front door and windows on the first floor, setting up the alarm and going back upstairs.

I can hear some noise coming from the bathroom. I begin averting my gaze, just in case Jude walks out of the bathroom half-naked again.

I finally get into my bedroom, jumping into my bed. I try to distract myself with my phone until he's done with showering. So I can finally wash my face and brush my teeth after a long day of studying.

Only, this time- my phone doesn’t seem to be all too interesting. Not even those brainrotting and attention grabbing TikTok’s.

Nothing, and I mean nothing- could distract me from anything that had happened within the past thirty minutes..

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #bellingham x reader #real madrid fc #jude bellingham fanfic #football imagines #football fanfic #footballer x reader #football #football imagine #real madrid

[silly4sillinger]

𝙏𝙄𝙆𝙏𝙊𝙆 𝙏𝙍𝙀𝙉𝘿𝙎 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙏 Sparks Fly Pairing: Matt Rempe x Fem Roommate!Reader Chapter Four

Matt decided to start a prank war with you. He has pranked you a total of three times and you still have yet to get him back.

You try to think of multiple ways to get him back but can't think of anything so you resort to trying to find something on tiktok.

After a little searching you come across a tiktok of a girl pranking her boy bestfriend by saying that her tampon is stuck and decide that's probably the best one.

He goes to practice and you spend the time that he's gone trying to figure out how you are going to execute the prank.

You hear Matt unlocking the front door and bolt to the bathroom, ready to get revenge.

"I'm back!?" He says, his voice carrying through the apartment.

You hear him go into his room and wait a couple seconds before yelling for him. "Matty!?"

"What?!" He yells back.

"Come here a second!"

He goes to go to your room but stops when he notices you standing in the bathroom doorway. "The guys want to know if you want to go out with us tonight."

"Maybe. I need your help." You tell him, purposely standing weird.

"With what? Why are you standing like that?" Matt asks.

"So um. I know this is going to be awkward and I don't even want to be telling you this but I have no other choice to. My tampon is stuck."

"Where?"

"My vag, dumbass. Where else. The string broke and I can't get it, so I need you to pull it out."

Matt stares at you, blinking a few times before saying, "Y-You want me to pull it out?"

"Yes. I-"

"I can call somEOne." His voice cracks and it takes everything in you not to laugh. "I can call Alley. Let me get my pho-"

"Matt, Alley is in Calgary. She isn't going to be any help." You tell him.

"Well I don't know what you want me to do. Becausewhatthefuckidon'tusethem. I don't use tampons. l don't know. I mean, I'm stressed out."

"You're stressed out? You aren't the one with a tampon stuck in your vagina, Matthew."

Matt runs his hands over his face. "Can't I just take you to the hospital or something?"

"No. Do you know how embarrassing it would be to have to go to the hospital for this. It'll be simple. What's gonna happen is I'm going to sit down and put my legs up and you have to dig for it. If we don't get it out I could literally get TSS and die."

"I'm sorry. I don't want you to die but I can't. I'm not a medical professional and shouldn't be digging in your cooch."

"If you were my bestfriend you would-"

"What am I going to do!? I'm not going to go knuckle deep and fish out a tampon. Just let me take you to the damn ER and they can use the tools to get it out." He yells, getting more and more nervous by the second.

"If you were my bestfriend you would help me. I'll put my legs up like I'm giving birth and you just got to reach in there and pull it out. Do you have a pair of gloves?"

"A pair of fucking gloves? Why would I have a pair of gloves, y/n!?" Matt sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "Sit down." He tells you.

You burst out laughing and he stares at you confused.

"Why are you laughing, it isn't funny."

"Remember what happened Sunday, Wednesday and Friday?" You ask him.

He thinks for a second before flipping you off and walking away. "Go fuck yourself."

#matt rempe #matt rempe x fem roommate!reader #sparks fly au #matt rempe x you #tiktok trends with matt

[c00kieguy]

hai :3c (regarding your long distance argenti post; i got lazy at the end sorry huhu)

imagine, one day, he doesn't reply all of a sudden.

imagine one day, late in the evening, you're waiting for argenti's usual goodnight message—either in the form of honeyed, poetic words that could be translated into ballad or the sound of his smooth-as-velvet voice that you could listen to for hours on end.

imagine, falling into uneasy sleep as you can no longer force your eyes open trying to stay awake awaiting your lover's fleeting words reserved for you and only you.

imagine waking up in the morning, immediately turning on your phone in hopes that argenti was perhaps too occupied to send you a message (or, messages) last night—in the past, he has, so hopefully this was one of those cases.

imagine, after a very long day with zero replies from your one and only, there was still radio silence on his end, your messages growing ever more frantic.

a day grows into two, then three, then four, then five.

and then five days becomes two weeks.

at this point, you may as well be growing grey hairs from all the stress you've accumulated worrying about what the hell happened to your boyfriend. he's warned you about the possibility of not being able to contact you for periods at a time due to "certain circumstances"... whatever they were.

but there was also a slim chance of the other possibility of him embarking danger on his journeys out across the stars. you know him—he can be overdramatic, corny.

and reckless.

you perish the mere thought as the doorbell rings; once, then twice.

you slowly cross your abode to the entrance, confused. you aren't expecting anybody today, nor did you order anything. thinking none of it, hoping for a well-rounded distraction you twist the knob open only to be met with a bushel of familiar bright red hair and the scent of roses.

motionless you stare, slack-jawed and silent as you take him in.

you now see that his red hair is ever so unkempt, mussy and tangled; his fragrance of roses shrouded by the odour of blood that stains some of his and dirty scuffed armour. a million questions race through your head among the lines of 'what was so urgent to warrant him not cleaning up when he arrived at your doorstep', or 'where the fuck has he been'.

you almost don't notice him take your hand in his—so gentle, so unlike a knight who has faced countless battles—as he bows down to give yours a tender kiss, you almost wish it was on your lips instead. almost.

it's unfair, really, even with his unkempt appearance you rarely see if ever—he still looks so handsome. he glances up at you with his sparkling eyes, still bowing, answering your unsaid question with an apologetic look.

"my sincerest apologies. my phone had been swallowed by a sting."

("where's my jumping hug you usually bestow me whenever i visit, my dear?" he almost pouts, as if unaware of his uncouth appearance.

"you have bug guts and blood on you."

"but i missed you. :("

"go take a shower, argenti."

you gave him plenty of cuddles and kisses once he and his armour were all cleaned up, and even considered purchasing a backup phone for him in case his new one got swallowed. again.)

ANON THIS WAS SO???!?! I LOVE YOU

ofc his phone got swallowed by a sting. I'd like to imagine he doesn't actually have any important things on his device for this very reason. Every single picture he takes, every important document or any other kind of information he wants saved, he just sends it to you lol. You have a separate folder called 'Argenti's Stuff' (right next to the folder with all the selfies he sends you) (there're like 500+ pictures in it at this point)

"Next time you lose it I'll cuff the damn thing to your wrist."

Ohh and taking care of him afterwards too. I bet he's exhausted from his….endeavors. Imagine running him a bath and helping him wash off all the gunk from his hair >> I got a little carried away hehe, holding him 🤲

Taking in a deep breath you steel yourself against the gruesome state of his hair. Beautiful red locks, once so soft and lush, now matted and sticking to his neck in wet patches. As if that wasn't foul enough, you were sure the tiny clumps of flesh scattered on his hair were just that, flesh. Not to mention the small remnants of the sting's carapace sprinkled on top of everything.

You shake your head and continue, undeterred by the sight in front of you.

Argenti sighs as soon as the warm water hits his head. The heat from the water running down his back like a cozy stream envelops him and alleviates his fatigue as he sinks further into the tub. Holding the shower head with one hand you use the other to carefully work on cleaning up the mess in his hair.

The knight melts into your soft touch, your fingers feel like magic the way they easily untangle his messy hair. The grime and gunk that covered his hair form a bloody river that runs into the drain as they slowly get washed away.

Once you were certain that everything from his hair was cleared out, you move onto the shampoo. Argenti grumbles as you apply a generous amount of the cold gel to his head, clearly disgruntled at the stark contrast in temperate. You disregard his silent complains and start massaging his scalp with both hands, rubbing the foam around his head and adding more shampoo when needed. You swore your bottle felt half as empty by the time you were done.

Rinsing out his hair was a harder task that you thought. Just the sheer volume of it was enough to hold so much soap, you had to spend a considerable amount of time just to wash it all off.

You repeat the whole process just in case, after all, it's hard to tell if there's any blood left when the hair in question is also red…

By the time you're done he's fast asleep and he looks so impossibly cute that way. Just seeing Argenti so visibly relaxed and dozing off made you feel sleepy as well. So you carry him back to the bed and fall asleep next to him <3

(yea I also got lazy at the end lol. it just be like that..)

#honkai star rail #hsr argenti #argenti x reader #x reader #hsr x reader #I've read this like THREE TIMES #genuinely anon wtf #just coming in here and dropping a banger and leaving?!?!! #blood and guts covered Argenti.... #consider me a dead man #ask #anon #I'm gonna be thinking about this for the next few weeks.... #c00kie.writes #hsr

[kori-xo]

A Baby

Loki x Reader Oneshot

(Summary: Loki and (y/n) get left with a baby. Now they have to take care of it for the next few hours.) 

————————————

Chaos reigned over the city as a man with the ability to seemingly manipulate small portions of stone and cement tore holes into roads which out of control cars fell into. Street lights were thrown around by the cement they were connected to and people - not many - were suddenly impaled by various stone spikes.

As you looked around at all the chaos and bloodshed, out of the corner of your eye you saw a woman and her baby running towards you. Adrenaline running through your body, you quickly ran to her, “Ma’am follow me, we’re guiding evacuees to the statehouse-“

"No, no, there's no time," the woman frantically answered you, her eyes filled with immense fear as she looked down at the baby in her arms, which was starting to stir and cry. 

You looked at her in confusion. 

“Please.” A sob fell from her lips, making her next words strained, “Take her.”

You furrowed your brows, confused even more until she carefully brought her daughter from against her chest and handed her to you.

"Keep her safe for me. Please." 

Just as you had taken a hold of the swaddled up baby, you heard a gravelly voice come from behind the frightened woman. 

“I’ve finally found you.”

She had barely even let out a breath before a stony spike was protruding from her chest.

You jumped back instantly, putting your hand behind the baby’s head in both support and instinct.

"Guys," you breathed shakily into the earpiece, struggling to process what had just happened in the previous few seconds. "I need-I need backup over here, I have to go back to the Quinjet."

“Do you need first aid treatment?” You heard Cap ask

"No…but I have a baby." 

"I'm sorry, you have a what?" Tony says incredulously. "Where on earth did you get a baby?"

“I mean I got it here-“

“NOT WHAT I MEANT.” You heard Tony sigh into the earpiece. “Just…Get back to the Quinjet." 

You ran to the jet and as you got closer to it you saw the back open and Loki was standing there ready for whatever situation had happened

Though he certainly wasn’t expecting this.

“What in the name of Helheim are you doing with a baby?!” He asked quickly.

"I don't know, it all happened so fast," you argued back, running into the Quinjet as quickly as possible to make sure the infant was in a safer place. "One minute, I'm trying to help a woman out, and the next, she's handing me a child that I have no idea what to do with, then dying right in front of me!” 

"Well, I suppose that's one way to run away from your responsibilities," Loki mutters. 

You deadpan at him before sighing and wiping sweat off your forehead. As you lower your hand to readjust how you are holding the infant, you see thick blood covering the back of your hand, no doubt from the mother.

Horror dawns on you as you see that you’re covered in it, even the thick blanket the baby was swaddled in. 

Seeing the panic on your face, Loki quickly used his seidr to clean the blood off both you and the child in your arms. “Alright, let’s see what I can do for now..” Loki said, looking around the jet for anything he could use to comfort the infant so that someone wouldn’t have to carry her until they got back to the tower. 

"Can we make a makeshift crib somehow?" You suggested. "There's gotta be a wide enough basket or crate somewhere in here. It won't be as comfortable, but it'll be something for now."

"It could work," he replies. "Possibly." 

As Loki started rummaging around, trying to find the suggested materials, the infant started to sob. You quickly looked back down, moving to sit down on one of the ledges so that you could place her on your lap, gently bouncing her up and down while shushing her in a soothing manner. “It’s alright.. It’s alright.. Sshhhh…”

Your motions calmed her down little by little, until eventually, she was sitting comfortably in your lap, her head resting on your chest as you stroked her head gently.

Loki had found an empty crate at the front of the jet and had brought it back to give you it. His eyes softened at the sight, and he smiled lightly.

As you looked back up to him, he felt his breath get caught in his throat. Frozen, he had almost forgotten what he had come to tell you; he cleared his throat, “I- Er- Found a crate.” He said, holding it up. “Obviously.”

He put it next to your feet and reached his hands back, taking off his cape and folding it to cushion the infant in the crate. You carefully lowered her into it, wrapping the soft fabric of Loki's cape around her for comfort. 

"What do we do now?" he asks, not taking his eyes off your movements. 

"Well…think it's safe to say she doesn't have anyone else to take care of her," you admitted, sitting back on the ledge. "Maybe…we could." 

"Us?" His eyebrows rose incredulously. "Darling, I don't know if you could tell, but neither one of us knows the first thing about taking care of a child." 

"That didn't stop you from having like, six of them." The look on Loki's face was the definition of a deer caught in headlights. "Yeah, I read the books." 

"That's- that's completely different," he argues. 

"Please, Loki," you pleaded. "It's not like we'll be doing it by ourselves. Everyone in the Tower can help if we need it. And I'm pretty sure the majority of them have interacted with and know how to take care of a kid." 

Loki contemplated your reasoning for a moment, and although he was about to protest again, the sight of you returning to the baby's aid and cooing it back into a peaceful silence made his heart soften. 

How could he possibly say no to you? 

"...Alright," he sighs. "We can try." 

Your face immediately lit up as you gave an elated nod and smiled. 

+++++++++++++++++++++

“So, let me get this straight,” Tony began. “You were helping civilians evac, a random woman hands you her child and then drops dead in front of you? Is this how we escape our responsibilities nowadays?”

“That’s what I said!”

“Loki,” you hissed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Look, Tony, I know you don’t think we’re the safest-“ 

“I know you’re not the safest.”

”But we can take care of her, I promise!” 

“You, who’s never touched a baby in her life-“ 

“I’ve touched a baby before,” you frowned. 

“Today doesn’t count.” 

“Oh.”

“And him, who doesn’t need to be 5 kilometers near a baby.” 

Loki crossed his arms in offense. “I beg your pardon? I’ll have you know, I’m excellent with children.”

“Yeah, he’s got about 5 of them,” you mumbled under your breath, earning an elbow from Loki. 

Tony blinked, then shook his head. “I-…don’t even wanna know how. Or why, for that matter. Look, I suppose you two can take care of the kid until somebody can come and collect her, okay?”

Your face lit up immediately. “Thank you, Tony!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “Don’t make me regret it.” 

You gave him a quick “deal” before you carried the baby up to your room, which was vacant most of the time, given the fact that you’d practically moved into Loki’s room. 

“We can make a spot here for her,” you suggested to Loki. “Maybe push that stand out of the way and over onto this wall? And put a crib in its place?” 

“Where would we put her necessities?” He asked. “Diapers, bottles, stuff like that?” 

“There’s a couple of empty storage draws in my closet,” you replied. “Whatever can’t fit in there can go in one of my nightstand drawers.”

Loki nodded, taking the initiative to begin pushing stuff out of the way and reorganizing it, since you were still busy cradling and rocking the baby. 

He didn’t mind though. He liked seeing you like this. Felt like maybe someday in the future—with a lot less last minute warning—he would get to see it again, with you holding a child that the two of you created together. 

“Loki? You okay?” 

The Asgardian snapped out of his daydream and gave you a reassuring smile. “Absolutely fantastic, darling.” You returned his smile and nodded, refocusing your attention on the baby. 

A while later, your bedroom had been set up into a half-baby room, Tony had ordered a ton of baby supplies, and Loki materialized a crib (which, to note, you were slightly skeptical about), which the little girl seemed to love, given the fact that she snuggled right into it. 

“I wonder what her name is,” you murmured in thought as you and Loki watched the baby sleep soundly. 

“The mother didn’t tell you?” Loki asked in surprise. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I told you, she was dead before I could even blink.”

“Well… if we can’t find out what her name is…what if we named her?” 

You cocked a brow. “Us?” 

“Well, why not?”

“I’m terrible at naming stuff,” you laughed. 

“So am I,” Loki joined in the laughter alongside you. “My firstborn? His name was Sleipnir.” 

You burst into a fit of giggles at that. “What? How am I supposed to pronounce something like that?” 

“You weren’t even supposed to know about it! Those were questionable times.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” you snickered as you went to pick up the baby’s blanket, which had been cleaned thoroughly from its bloody horror, to drape it over her. However, you caught a glimpse of some sort of writing engraved at the bottom corner. 

Readjusting it to examine it further, you caught sight of something that made your mouth part slightly in surprise and wonder. 

“Neveah. Her name is Neveah.”

“You just came up with that?” 

“No, no, look!” you replied, beckoning Loki over to see what you were seeing. “It’s right here. Neveah D. R.” 

“What do the last two initials stand for?” He asked. 

“Her middle and last name, I assume. It’s not likely they’re her parents initials, but it’s one of the two.”

Before Loki could answer you, an alarm blares loudly throughout the Tower, startling both you and the little girl in the crib. 

“I’m so sorry for the loud disturbance, but there’s an intrusion alert,” JARVIS’ voice fills the room. 

“An intrusion?” You asked, your eyes widened in fear. “By who?” 

“It appears to be the same threat as earlier, Ms. (L/n).” A holographic screen projects itself on your wall, showing Tony and Clint going at it with the same stone man from earlier. 

“Thank you JARVIS, we’ll be down ASAP.” You then turned your attention to Loki. “I’ll calm the the baby down first, you get down there and help Tony and Clint.” 

Loki gives you a nod, changing back into his armor before teleporting away. 

You picked up Neveah in your arms, rocking her softly as she cried. 

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry, honey,” you whispered to her gently. “It’s okay, I'm gonna protect you. Me and Loki, we’ll keep you safe, alright? Whoever that man is, he won’t get you.” 

Her wails began to die down slowly the more you comforted her, until she was left sniffling softly. 

“There we go, sweetheart,” you said with a smile, before wrapping her in her blanket, which seemed to make her happy in an instant. “Now just lay down and sleep, okay? We’ll come back for you, I promise.”

With that, you placed Neveah back in her crib and walked out the door, locking it behind you, just to be safe. Luckily, you still had on your suit, so you grabbed your holster and belt, attaching them to your body as you rushed down to the lower level of the Tower. 

And boy, was it a mess. 

It was absolute chaos, the room was practically surrounded by stone spikes coming out of the wall, shot up from the floor, even dangling from the ceiling. Things were tossed around and broken, and there was Tony, Steve, Clint, and Loki all trying to stop this crazy guy, who wasn’t budging not one bit. 

However, when he spotted you, he stopped and narrowed his eyes. “You.”

You froze in your tracks as you made eye contact with him, the look in his eyes full of rage.  

“You took my daughter away from me,” he seethed. “First that- that incompetent woman, and now you!” 

Incompetent woman? Was he referring to Neveah’s mother?

“You took Neveah! Now you’re going to pay!” 

All of a sudden, there were spikes being fired at you rapidly, so fast that you just barely managed to dodge the hits. 

You ducked under the stone-like man and grabbed onto one of the thicker, heavier spikes protruding from the wall, climbing up them and swinging off the one on the very top, jumping on the man’s back as you tackled him to the ground. 

He tried to fight back by aiming a spike at you from behind, but Steve threw his shield, knocking it out of the way before it could reach you. 

Tony then jumped in, bringing a fist to the man’s face, the metal of his suit packing quite the cold punch, sending the man into a state of unconsciousness. 

There was a moment of silence before Clint spoke up. “Is anybody gonna talk about what just happened?” 

The rest of you began to speak simultaneously. 

“Nope.”

“No.”

“Can’t explain it.”

“Not a chance.”

Another brief silence washed over the room before Tony lifted up the mask of his Iron Man suit. 

“Rock of Ages, you’re strong enough,” he said. “Mind carrying this…man-rock to the cell in the basement?” 

“My pleasure,” Loki muttered, helping you off of the guy before hauling him upwards, dragging his body away. 

“That guy took the Rock way too literally,” Tony sighed. You shook your head and looked away to avoid the laugh that threatened to free itself. 

“How did he get like-like that, anyways?” Steve asked. 

“Good question, Cap. Turns out, I still don’t have an answer, so we’ll ask him whenever he wakes up.”

“You really think he’ll answer us?” you asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well, at the end of the day, he has no choice.” 

All that was left now was to wait for him to wake up. 

+++++++++++++++

Hours later, JARVIS gave all of you the announcement that the man had woken up, which brought you down to the cell, where Tony was standing already, his arms crossed as he stared the man down. 

“And thanks for all the damages, we really enjoyed the long cleanup,” you heard him utter sarcastically. "Turns out, the spikes disappear, but the mess doesn't." 

“He’s awake?” you asked, staring at the man through the glass, who looked at you with a piercing glare. 

“Yes, and for the love of god, keep your head down, your face looks like it hasn’t felt a drop of moisturizer since the day you were born.” 

Clint raised a brow. “Aren’t you an Atheist?” 

“Objection, besides the point,” Tony dismissed him. “Anyways, Concrete Rain, how'd you get the weird powers anyways, you went out and got yourself stoned or something?” 

Leave it to Tony to start cracking jokes. 

“I was born with these powers,” the man growled. “One of my kind, the Elementals.” 

“I see. So, what element are you, sedimentary rock?” 

“He’s got the Earth element, Stark,” Loki murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“That still doesn’t explain why he tried destroying the city,” Steve said. 

“That woman took my daughter away from me. I want her back.” 

“Don’t you see you’re a danger to her? Do you really think your daughter wants to see you like this? Maybe her mother kept her away for a reason.” 

“Tony,” you frowned. “Cmon, don’t be like that. Have some compassion, he just misses his kid.”

"Hey, child abductor, let me handle this, okay?"

"Wow." 

"Well, what are you gonna do, Tony?" Clint asked. "As much as I hate to say it, we can't just hand his daughter back to him." 

"Exactly," Tony agrees. "I say we send him to the Raft. Let him out for temporary child visits. How's that sound?" 

"No!" The man roared. "I want Neveah! She's mine!" 

"You are in no condition to be taking care of a child. That is a very small infant, and she needs gentle care. Unless you can get rid of the bodily rock, then I'm leaving your daughter under (y/n)'s care." 

"And Loki's," you added. 

"Yeah, him too," Tony reluctantly agreed. "And we'll keep the original plan. Now you two, get back to the kid. Don't leave her alone longer than necessary." 

With that, Loki nodded, grasping your hand before he teleported away, bringing the two of you back to your bedroom, where Neveah was, shuffling around in her crib, cute little giggles and incoherent words spilling from her lips. 

"Hi, sweetheart," you smiled, instantly walking over to shower her in attention. "Everything's okay now. You're safe." 

"She's safe with us," Loki said, wrapping an arm around your waist as he watched you interact with the small child. 

"Yeah,” you replied, laughing softly when you felt her tiny hand wrap around your fingers. 

"Safe with us."

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #fanfic #marvel cinematic universe #loki x y/n #it’s a case of delulu

[hqbaby]

how did it end? — hinata x reader

ੈ𑁍༘⋆ didn’t you hear? they called it all off. after your relationship falls apart, you find yourself trying to pick up the pieces. in the midst of the wreckage, you still can’t figure out exactly why it all ended.

word count. 1.5k content. angst, breakup fic

You remember when you first moved in. It was a hot summer day and there was a leak in the kitchen. It wasn’t there when you bought the place and Shoyo had spent the whole morning arguing with the realtor because of it. You remember seeing him get all frustrated and having to tell him to calm down, that it would be fine.

“I just wanted it to be perfect,” he told you when he got off the phone. The two of you were sitting on the floor of your bare living room, sucking on popsicles and wiping the sweat from your foreheads.

His words warmed your heart, which might have seemed counterproductive in the heat, but you didn’t care. All you could do was smile at him and take his hand and say, “Look around. It’s already perfect.”

He lit up at your words, suddenly all giddy as looked around the place. Your place. For both of you.

He kissed you then and you laughed, jokingly shoving him away, reminding him of the heat, but he didn’t care. You didn’t either.

Things were easier then. Lighter, happier. Better.

You look around the living room now, bare once more, stripped of all signs of life that had once filled its walls, and you wonder if things will ever be that good again. And you realize that they probably won’t.

“You okay?” Sakusa asks you. He’s carrying a box of your things, things that had once had a place in this home and don’t anymore. “Are you missing anything?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine,” you tell him, picking up a box at your feet. “We should go.”

All of your things are split between the trunk of your car and Sakusa’s. After he heard about what happened, he had offered to help you move your things to your new place. At that point, you hadn’t even considered leaving this house, your home. You never thought you’d have to look for a new place again.

“Is there anything else?” Sakusa asks as he closes the trunk of his car.

You look at the boxes of your things, the empty house behind you, the winding road ahead with an unfamiliar destination. You can’t help the tears that fall from your eyes. “I—I can’t,” you say, turning back to the house. “I can’t leave. It’s not over yet.”

Your friend has a pained expression on his face. He says your name, quietly, sadly. “What do you want to do?”

“Can I call him?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

But you’re already fumbling through your pockets, pulling your phone out. “I’m gonna call him.”

You tap on his number, still at the top of your contacts list. You worry your lip as you listen to the phone ring once. Twice. Thrice.

He declines.

You ring him again.

Decline.

Again.

Decline.

“Please stop,” Sakusa says, prying the phone from your hands. “He won’t answer. I’m sorry.”

You look back at the house. Did it always look so empty? So lifeless? So miserable?

“I just need a minute,” you tell him, rubbing your tears away with the back of your hand. “Just a minute,” you say, walking towards the house. To soothe it? To stop its pain? You don’t know. “I’ll be back.”

You push through the doors and suddenly you’re back at the beginning.

Shoyo stands by the staircase with a fresh bouquet, grinning that boyish grin of his. “Happy anniversary,” he says.

You frown. “It’s not our anniversary.”

“I know,” he tells you, still grinning. “But it will be in three months. Thought I’d get you something in advance.”

You launch yourself into his arms and he peppers your face with kisses as you giggle and clutch the bouquet to your chest. “I love it,” you tell him, pulling away to look him square in the eye. “Thank you.”

You’re back in the present, standing at the staircase, arms empty, the warmth of his embrace gone. How long had it been since the two of you were that happy? That careless with your joy?

A month ago, you were both at the staircase too. You were standing at the top, him at the bottom. The distance hurt you more than it should have.

“I can’t deal with this anymore,” you told him. You weren’t crying, you were just staring at him, all tired and drained. “You know that, right? You know I can’t.”

You felt for the ring on your finger. It had been there for two years already, a promise that was yet to be fulfilled. A promise that you had been waiting on for so long, one that never came and would never come.

He gripped the rails and shook his head. “I don’t know what you want from me."

He had a different look on his face, one that you wouldn’t have recognized two years ago but had become increasingly familiar with in the last few weeks. You were both tired, and that was never going to end well no matter what you did.

“Put me first,” you told him. Asking. Begging. Pleading. “Just put me first for once.”

You grip the railing now and you wonder why it didn’t end there. Because it didn’t. Somehow, you found it in yourselves to keep going, keep breathing life into the corpse that was the two of you for two more weeks.

You should’ve let it end there. Maybe it would’ve made more sense.

You wander to the kitchen, the place where you once considered that you might’ve been the happiest you’d ever be.

It was a Sunday night, Shoyo had spent his day off with you, going to your favorite spots around the city, having dinner at the place you two loved, lying on the couch and watching all the shows you’d missed. You found yourselves washing the bowls you’d used for ice cream, chatting about your day, the things you could do next week.

You thought that you were already happy then, that things couldn’t get much better, but Shoyo wasn’t having any of that.

As you placed the last bowl on the drying rack, you found your boyfriend on his knees. There was a ring in his hands. No box, just a ring. He later told you that he’d kept it in his pajama pocket because he was so scared of losing it and you’d laughed at him and told him you understood.

He was nervous, the words getting all jumbled in his mouth until all he could say was, “Do you—do you maybe wanna marry me?”

You nodded your head and leaned down to kiss him. He slid the ring onto your finger and you held him tight. You never wanted to let him go.

You twist the ring on your finger now. He told you to keep it, but you’d been contemplating giving it back. Maybe Sakusa could pass it along. Or Atsumu. Any one of your friends would do. You just know you can’t give it to him directly. He won’t have that.

You tap the kitchen table, still there, part of what you decided to sell with the house because neither of you wanted to keep it. You both know why, but you never said it out loud.

It was where things ended, more or less.

You had sat down for dinner, the week building up to that moment had been tense, but not anything special. You were bracing yourself for another fight, another cool down, another restless night of sleep before things went back to normal. You don’t know if you should’ve realized it was coming. You guess you never will.

“We need to talk,” he said and you listened.

You both poured out all the things that bothered you, the things you wanted to fix, the things that were clearly going wrong. It was a civil conversation, diplomatic and understanding. You talked and talked, trying to piece together the things neither of you could understand on your own. You thought it would work, you thought it was going well.

But it went on for too long. You circled around the same concerns again and again. You put things together only to watch them fall apart. It felt like building a sandcastle by the sea only for the whole thing to be washed away by the waves in seconds.

In the end, you realized that you were going nowhere. This was going nowhere.

So you stopped trying to fix it. You both did. There was no point trying to bring something back when it had clearly been gone for a while already.

You look at the table now. You look at the marks you left on it, where you had both engraved your initials. Shoyo had been so happy when you agreed to doing it.

“We’ll be here forever,” he told you as he pressed the cutter to the wood. His head was bent, focusing and carefully carving each stroke. 

You were sitting beside him, head on his shoulder. You smiled. “We’ll be here forever.”

notes. i’ve been in a weird place recently, picking at old wounds and all, so my writing’s been all over the place. i’m trying not to touch any of my series right now (mainly because i’m scared i’ll mess with the plots too much to backtrack), so here’s a little fic for now <3

#hqbaby.fic #hqbaby #haikyuu #hinata shoyo #hinata #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata x reader #haikyuu x reader #hinata shoyo angst #hinata angst #haikyuu angst

[iamthecomet]

I saw an art on Twitter and I can't remember who post it but it was two Dewdrops, a water and a fire! It was so beautiful and made me think of Dewdrop angst. If there is water Dewdrop summoned through magic, how he used to be, and it looks to fire Dewdrop that other ghouls love water Dewdrop more... He is very fun and easy to hurt 🤭

Oohhh man. Yeah Dew is super easy to hurt. He spirals easily. And doesn't hide his insecurities well. I think two of him would be a nightmare for so many reasons. Not least of all the fact that it would make fire Dew spiral really really badly.

Thinking about this got me thinking about fire Dew and how even without another version of himself to contend with, he probably thinks his pack would like water Dew better.

I got a little carried away with angst Dew thoughts so they're going under a cut to save space.

Dew thinks about it when he's alone. At the end of bad days. After he's snapped at everyone to leave him alone and they've done it. It happens on tour mostly. There are places to go at the Abbey. He can go for a walk. Go visit Mist in the lake, or at the very least vanish into a dark silent room.

But on a tour bus? He can hear them. He's alone in his bunk. Knees drawn up to his chest. Phone playing the latest episode of whatever series he's watching. And when he takes his headphones off he can hear them. Laughing in one of thr lounges. Talking, playing cards. Swiss is plucking at a guitar. And Dew isn't there. He's here. He asked them to leave him alone.

So they did.

But water Dew would be with them. Water Dew didn't have outbursts. He never felt any emotion this strongly. Dew gets his aloofness from his past self. Sure, like Rain he could be distant. Hard to know if he didn't want to be. But at least he never snapped at anyone. Never singed the leaves of Mountains plants. Or melted the best fork on the bus just by holding it in his hand during a fit of overwhelm.

Water Dew was easy. Easier to like. Easier to be. If water Dew had stormed off, demanded to be alone, he wouldn't have been. Someone would have bullied their way into his bunk by now. Put their arm around him. Held him. But fire Dew? When he snaps everyone listens. Which is better in a lot of ways, less infantalizing. He gets what he wants, what he thinks he needs. But he knows it wears on them. He'll, it wears on him.

The way it rears up. The world too small his skin to tight. His own failures bouncing off of his skull begging to be let out. It's exhausting to live through. It can't be any better to be on the other side of it. To watch him shut down. And if they actually cared about it, they'd be here right? Standing outside of his drawn curtain. Checking in on him. He feels like the boy who cried wolf. Too many biting remarks. Too many "just leave me the fuck alone"'s and they're sick of it. They don't care.

He'll feel better after some sleep. Some food. After he reluctantly takes care of himself. He'll push it into the background when he stumbles out of bed in the morning and Mountain curls his arms around Dews shoulders and kisses him between the horns. When Cumulus settles into his lap to kiss him, tasting like green tea and honey. It will fizzle. Fade. He will feel, once again, like he is who he is supposed to be.

But right now? The sound of ruckus laughter cuts into his bunk and it feels like a twisted knife. A problem he can solve by sheepishly rejoining them. But he can't. Can't deal with the way they'll look at him. Better to just suffer. To put his headphones on and sleep it off. To isolate.

Water Dew was never allowed to isolate. Fire Dew can do whatever he wants. How liberating to be able to make these choices. To have everything he could ever want, and to run away from it , to spit in the face of it. To resent it.

He sleeps eventually. Always does. Drifting off to the sound of voices in the next room. But when he wakes he isn't alone. Aeon is next to him. Arms curled around Dews body. Breath huffing out over his horns. And Dews first instinct is to push him away. To shove until Aeon rolls out of bunk and onto the floor.

He doesn't want pity.

But Aeon pulls him tighter. Makes a noise in his sleep and Dew relents. It feels good to be held like this. And it isn't Aeon's fault for not knowing thr protocol. He doesn't know that he's supposed to ignore Dew when he gets like this, not yet. He'll learn. He'll disappear like the others have. But until then? Until Dew inevitably ruins this like he does everything else? He'll sink into it. Savor it. This fleeting comfort.

He drifts back off to sleep to the sound of Aeon mumbling into his hair.

#comet writes #comet canons #i got carried away #i don't know what happened #I'm sorry #dewdrop ghoul #ghost fic #the band ghost fan fic #aeon ghoul #dewdrop angst

[potfulloffrogs]

possible yae miko slander, please bear with me

Ok, I really need to get this off my chest

I saw a comment thread on reddit about why the op doesn't ship yaesara anymore, and their reason was because of this piece of lore from the description of Kagura's Verity.

It's where Miko's reminiscing about her past, and she says 

"I knew a young and obstinate tengu warrior, and used the pretext of "training" to bluff her into asceticism in the mountains, but sensing her unruly nature, I recommended her to those blockheaded Kujou."

Implying that the reason why Sara was all alone in the mountains was because of her. Not only that, but its also saying that Miko's the reason why Sara was stuck with the Kujo Clan, you know, the reason why she doesn't know how to socialize, why she's so hard on herself, the people who rasied her to be nothing more than a soldier and an extention of the clan and the shogun. That was because of her.

And the way that it's phrased makes it seem like Yae didn't trust the Kujo Clan but she let them take care of a child anyway. Am I reading that wrong?

Like, there's no way she'd knowingly give a kid to someone she knows she's abusive right?

Even if she didn't, it's still on her for not checking and kinda ruining Sara's life and that's messed up.

Although, that could have been the only option at the time since Sara was injured and they were the closest help she could get. But then again, the reason why she was injured in the first place was because she was fighting monsters all by herself WAS BECAUSE OF MIKO. She tricked her into living alone on the mountains.

Was there a reason behind any of this, cause I can't find any motivation behind it. Like, what was the point of Sara living a life of abstinence all alone? If the reason was to train her, then that was a terrible idea because her character story doesn't mention of any one being with her. And she can't have been that old because her 5th character also says that "Sara has been training with the Shogun's army ever since she was taken in by the Tenryou Commission" and "her coming to train at an early age". I don't think leaving a child to alone to raise itself is a good idea.

Then again, I could be wrong on that since there doesn't seem to be any mention of what her life was like before being adopted by the Kujo Clan so I could be wrong on that. I could also be missing other pieces since I don't know Yae Miko well and I haven't read her story.

I don't know. Am I missing something? Because this seems like all of this happened for no reason, and this feels way to mean if it was intentional, even for Miko.

#genshin impact #kujou sara #yae miko #i got carried away back there sorry about that #i care about Sara way too much #i thought Sara's life was just a series of unfortunate events but the thought that it was all caused by one person on purpose irks me #i mean it already was because of the abuse but you know what i mean right? #Like i thought she just happend to be adopted by one of the worst candidates being given to them knowing what would happen is something els #at the very least this makes Miko finding Sara annoying for asking about Ei all the time and thinking she's kinda stupid a bit funny #like you (indirectly) made her this way lmao what did you expect? #up to no good again

[hauntingblue]

MARIKO OUT-DIVA'D EVERYONE ON THE ROOM!!!!

#by using her ancestry no less... slay #yabushige is so funny... i love his manerisms #oh my god #threatening sepukku as a weapon omg..... girl.... #star crossed lovers omg....... mariko was my happiness...... girl..... #the hand again.... bi mariko i see you..... #oh my god oh jesus.... hes gonna finish her... and his husband is not there even 😭😭 #the hand AGAIN #girl your son is there.... do not make another one look what happened with mizu blue eye samurai #i wrote this before he entered her room i SWEAR #i have been prophecycing this show a little so this actually might become a thing. maybe the slay brother will die too who knows #what i also know is that yabushige is dying at the hands of this man. new person and away from a party.... nothing good can happen #OH NEVERMIND THE OTHER WAY AROUND AKDJSKSNSL YES GO OFF!!! HE IS IMMORTAL!! HIS SWAG TOO GREAT HIS DECEITFUL WAYS TOO HARD #NINJAS NINJAS NINJAS #what did i say. having people on the inside will make their operation work. what did i say. my brain huge my meat massive etc #sorry got carried away #why are they fighting them omg.... they are toranagas men right..... or did yabushige betray them.... oh god i was wrong #MARIKOOOOOOOOOO #oh i am slow. thats what ishido asked for in return. oh god #talking tag #NOT liveposting shogun #hehe.... alas..... #watching shogun #i am seeing that when i talk about someone on the post i then write tags about them dying. apollo stop this madness

[add1ctedt0you]

that fic idea where WWX is sent to a universe where JC isn't paying attention to him/being sad about him because JGY was JC's childhood bestie... effervescent

the many stages of WWX's reaction

YEAH. THE FEELINGS. THE MANY STAGES OF WWX'S REACTIONS INDEED

(sorry I got overboard while thinking how things would play...) it's very long!!

you haven't asked, but imo at the start, wwx is very excited! He is in his old body again! He has his strong golden core back!( Imo he is scarred by being 'the number one cultivation world's enemy'.) So, it's nice having cultivators who admire him! He is happily married with the love of his life, he is an accomplished scientist and a fun teacher! He didn't even kill 2000 people or his shijie! Everything is perfect.

So he goes to visit jc: his shidi isn't mad at him anymore! Why should he be? He didn't have crimes under his belt anymore.

Lotus Pier, the SAME lotus pier as before the massacre (there was a war, wwx knows that. Maybe during the rebuilding jc has found someone with great memory! Nice!), doesn't throw him out. He feels welcomed.

And then he goes to the sect leader (he has to ask before the disciples let him in the throne room. Rude, but he understands, jc loves formality. - lwj is quite confused... Why would sect leader jiang immediately run to welcome them? But wei ying is happy, so he holds back)

And then, they arrive at the throne room... And jc is there, at his rightful place, proud and scowly, and wwx is so HAPPY. He's at home again!

"jiang cheng, I am back!"

"..."

"..."

jc is so confused that stares at him, unimpressed. He doesn't know this wwx, but he has heard how weird he can be. Still, his inventions are amazing and useful and he is lwj's husband, and lwj is important to lxc... He can't be rude, he has to maintain a good relationship with the Lan. "I didn't know that wei-xiansheng has already been at Lotus Pier before, but I am glad to host such honorable guests. I would say to make yourself at home, but you have already done it forgetting formality", he sneers and wwx is confused. What the fuck jc?! Do you want formalities?! I beat your ass so many times, do you want me to bow to you???

Before wwx can say something, jc calls his second in command and Meng Yao arrives. He escorts them, under jc's order, to their guest room.

wwx is so confused that he lets it happen. Then, he asks his husband what the fuck is happening. Why is meng yao here? Isn't he dead? lwj is worried about his husband' deteriorating memory, but he answers. He would do everything for his husband. But then wei ying's face goes white, then red, then purple! Is wei ying sick?????? He needs to find a good healer to help his husband!! So he leaves the room with an excuse.

In the meantime, wwx is fuming! MY killed shijie!!! He killed jzx, shijie, 2000 people, then comes back (how?? Idk. plot. plot), and JC LET HIM AT LOTUS PIER. JC WHAT THE FUCK!! YOU COULDN'T STAND MY SIGHT FOR ONE SECOND, NOW YOU LET MENG YAO IN!! BASTARD.

It's unacceptable! He needs to fix things!!! He has to, if jc doesn't!!! He goes to jc's personal pavilion ('see, meng yao, I know lotus pier! Even better than you!' he mocks MY speech and suggestions about lotus pier's best inns).

When he arrives, - he sneaks really, now lotus pier has an hell of security system, he almost got caught! That never happened to him before! - he sees jc, MY AND jl eating at a low table. All together. Happily.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK? JL EVEN YOU! THE BETRAYAL! wwx knows that jl in the other universe forgives him (he is shijie' son, at the end of the day) but jgy's too???? Now???? jgy wasn't stabbed by jl! What right does he have to sit at his side?!?! And jl and wwx's relationship was still fragile, they were still working on trust and shit like that, what's the easy way they talk???? JC STOP PEALING LOTUS SEEDS FOR MY TOO. ONLY JL CAN HAVE THEM.

Unfortunately wwx is caught by the jiang disciples. They brings him to jc and wwx snaps: "jc what the fuck?!?! He killed shijie!!! You should be skinning him alive not feeding him!! Or just whipping him because you are boring. Whatever. But what the fuck?!"

And jc gets mad, but not 'wwx has pissed me off but it will pass'mad or 'I am rightfully even if unfairly mad about shijie and the peacock' bodies 'mad. No, he is 'you are pissing me off and I would kill you without thoughts - but REALLY KILL you'mad.

jl snaps "how dare you talk about my mother like that?! Do you wanna die???"

And jc" mister wei has overstepped his stay and bounds. I'll forget it for the sake of our clans, just this one time. Nonetheless, what happens to meng yao is a jiang family matter"

Lwj arrives and apologizes in wwx's stead. Then lwj drags him out of lotus pier. wwx is confused and angry. What is lwj doing?? He explains to his husband that jgy's the devil! He is bad and mean and a cunning manipulator! He killed wrh! He killed nmj! He killed jgs!

But lwj is even more worried: yes, Meng Yao - who is jgy? - killed wrh, but both jgs and nmj are still alive. Maybe wei ying is tired. Lwj is so worried about his husband's memory.

No one,- lsz, wn, ljy- believes him... And it's just as before, when he was all alone against the world, where no one believes him or in him... The food is tasteless, the world seems again to not have a place for him... His home isn't his home anymore...

But wwx has shit to fix! He needs to help jc and jl to see jgy's real nature! HE NEEDS TO FIX THINGS

And that's the fic:

jc's unmovable love for his family plus jl's good heart plus jgy cunning scheming vs. wwx inability to handle jc's emotions (indifference is unacceptable! How does jc dare to forget wwx?) plus his exaggerated reactions

#sorry i got carried away #But I would love a fic like that #Imo things will degenerate #And not in wwx's favor #He was easily manipulated by jgs - even if he was traumatized as hell. But still #See imo jgy is even more smart and cunning than his father #He has political awareness he can shift a situation in his favor #And he has jc wrapped around his finger #He has the upper hand! #Into my mind wwx dies again maybe taking down with him at least 300 people #Then he wakes up and he is alive again! Without thinking too much he runs to lotus pier from the cloud recess even with this weak core #He arrives half dead slurring things like: 'jc stops. jc no I killed shijie. It's me who you are mad at. He is scum. Leave him' #jc is confused but concerned : isn't lwj taking proper care of wwx? Let him run like that! Everything could have happened to him without #a strong core! #Then jc hears : 'I am back...' #And he is immediately 'YEAH YOU ARE BACK' #Then he takes wwx and starts to fuss over him giving him spicy soup and lotus seeds #And wwx understands that maybe the first time he wasn't talking to jc but he was avoiding him #The other jc has said that he will support jgy because he is his family. no matter what happened in the past. #And maybe this jc thinks the same. He is fussing over him he is scolding him again as if he cares about wwx #And after what seems almost 3 lifetimes wwx is at home again

[aqqleshiqqing-archive]

I think I noticed enough mutuals get confused or be unsure over red's real media so ill happily explain it hehe

so you know how c.reepyp.astas exist right? there's a lot of them and he is definitely a part of it, but there's a subgenre of creep.ypastas meant for p.okemon too so you can say he's from that genre. however!! i am focused on the f.n.f variant (i would also prefer if you see them as a p.okepasta selfshi.p)

that's how I see everything I said at least, I don't know if everyone would see it the same as me, but I tried my best to explain it C:

and as for emme, she is a general p.okemon oc/insert but i throw her into the p.okepasta universe for .. well obviously... red LMAO but also for me and my moots' silly antics and ideas since they also indulge in that specific media <3 (... u know who u are)

anyways yeah thanks for reading! :heart_hands:

#gosh you know whats funny. fnf leans so hard on whatever the community makes now its not even the canon game anymore LMAO #THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU LEAVE UR GAME AS AN OPEN SOURCE FILE!!!! #people would now associate the “ocs i just wanted to put in cuz its cool” that fans create for the game as an fnf character its insane #the whitty treatment fr #sorry i got carried away. the fnf community is a big iceberg to comprehend. the people especially both good and bad #~ rambling #i guess it would be a bit hard to understand if you're not familiar with it but that's okay!

[quietwingsinthesky]

I’m not one for soulmates AUs but bobbyrufus soulmate AU of the ‘you have the last words your soulmate will ever say to you on your body somewhere’ kind.

#I MAKE THE RULES OF THE AU AND WHAT I SAY IS THAT THE MOMENT THE WORM ENTERS BOBBY TIME IS UP #ANYTHING SAID BY OR TO HIM AT THAT POINT DOESNT COUNT #YES. THIS IS SO THAT BOBBY HAS TO LIVE WITH ‘I will never forgive you for what happened. you got that? never. so change the subject bob.’ #ON HIM. THE WHOLE TIME. AFTER OMAHA. EVEN AS HES TRYING TO APOLOGIZE IN THIS SCENE HE KNOWS HE WONT BE FORGIVEN #BECAUSE ITS ALWAYS BEEN TATTOOED ONTO HIM. THHAT THEY WOULD END LIKE THIS. WITHOUT BEING ABLE TO MOVE ON. #and so that Rufus’s last words can say ‘I never said I’m sorry Rufus.’ rufus constantly carrying this reminder of what Bobby did. #of the fact that he hasn’t apologized. yet. of the fact that by the time he does it’ll be too late. #and then you just. look imagine. imagine with me. #they say this to each other. there’s that moment where they realize… that’s it. end of the line. #and then obv worm!samuel knocks them both out. them both going down thinking ‘oh this is what does it’ but it doesn’t. it doesn’t. #they wake up again. #and Rufus talks to Bobby. Bobby talks to Rufus. how is this happening? did they break the rules? get a second chance? #their words are still on their skin. unchanging. the last things they ever said to each other. #but there’s a glimmer of. almost hope. and then Rufus turns to shock Bobby. and Bobby starts backing away. #audible drop of Rufus’s heart as he realizes. no. they didn’t get out. and then he dies. Bobby is forced to kill him. #Bobby’s on the other end of the possession stick now. he’s the one with Rufus’s blood on his hands. #and the last thing Rufus said to him. he’s always gonna have it there on his skin. that Rufus didn’t forgive him. and then Bobby killed him. #(and it wasn’t his fault. he knows how possession works. knows there was no fighting this thing or saving Rufus. #but he still takes the brunt of the guilt. Carries it. till he dies and despite everything it’s still Rufus he wants guiding him through it. #bobbyrufus #spn #Bobby singer #rufus turner