#the blood is still fresh and you're flirting!

[tadpolily]

#bg3 #bg3 gale #karlach #bg3 tav #fan comic #comic #short comic #webcomic #gale of waterdeep #artists on tumblr #the blood is still fresh and you're flirting!

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part One

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, nurse!reader, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, Johnny is a flirt, Simon is a basketcase. You meet your new patient, and his ghost.

“Johnny.”

He blinks. 

There’s so much noise now, an overload of sensation ringing between his ears. Ripping and tearing, shouting, booming. The night lights with blue and green explosions, whistles of rockets singing through the sky. 

He blinks again. 

“Johnny, stay with me.” Simon’s calling to him, hands firm against his belly. “Eyes open, Sergeant.” There’s fear there, terror drenching each syllable. White-hot, mind-numbing pain radiates from where a palm presses against his wound, gaping hole torn through his stomach, river of blood spilling from his body. Pint by pint flows freely from him to the dirt. 

He’s never seen Simon like this before, the whites of his eye gleam like bone. Terrified. Frantic. 

It must be bad. He must be dying.

As he blinks, Simon slowly disappears, morphing into someone else, eyes and nose molding into another’s, Price’s face taking the place of his partner’s without preamble. Fire douses the air, red and purple explosions dancing above his head like a halo. Angelic light, falling from heaven to earth, just to take him away.  Fire and blood. Fitting end for a Catholic, he supposes.  Gaz yells something into a radio. A fruitless effort. 

“Si.” He tries to reach, tries to pull him close, but his arm is dead weight, along with the rest of him. “Ah love ye. Tell- tell her, Ah love-” 

“Stop.” The word is barked over another ricochet. “Lay still. You’ll tell him yourself.” 

“Simon.”

“No, Johnny. You don’t get to say goodbye. Not yet.” 

Hospitals are dreadful places.

For most people, hospitals hold the memories of the worst moments in their lives, loss of loved ones, loss of self, painful injuries, frightening medical procedures, or mistreatment by medical professionals. The sanitized, whitewashed walls and off-white linoleum even have a certain scent, a smell that people associate with fear, discomfort, pain. It's globally accepted that hospitals are not well liked. They're not popular or particularly enjoyable. No one wants to go to the hospital.

But to you, the hospital is everything.

It’s where you spend a large amount of your time awake, willingly choosing to be here over anywhere else. Picking up odd shifts on different units, offering to cover for coworkers, staying late or coming in early whenever it's needed. It's your place. Your only place. It's where you make connections, where you're good at something, where you can be seen but never noticed. It’s what you dedicate your life, your time to. It’s what you cling to. It’s where you find your own peace, your own solace. Where you can let go of everything at home and focus on what you’re good at, caring about your coworkers, honing your skills, taking care of your patients. It’s yours. A place where you’re sheltered, where you can be yourself and not have to look over your shoulder, or keep your voice down, or mince your words. Somewhere you know what to expect, where you can predict, most days, the outcome of most things. Where you can feel in control. Its consistent, solid. It’s your safety. Your sanctuary. Nothing can hurt you here.

It's everything to you.

The elevator dings, announcing its arrival, and you curl your hands around your coffee out of habit, warming your palms.

“Good morning?” The friendly face inside greets you, nodding towards your tall mug, steam wafting from the top, hot and fresh from the café. They're a rad tech, you're pretty sure. Day shift. Parker, maybe?  The elevator is always the same. Hellos, goodbyes, floor to floor. No one bemoans their outcomes or tallies their losses here. No one celebrates their successes or accomplishments either. It stays void, unfeeling, unknowing, except for the comings and goings. 

“Hey, yeah. Good morning. Good night?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” They agree, and you bounce on your toes, stretching the front of your new sneakers, trying to get the bridge across the tops of your feet to loosen a little.

“Have a good rest of your day.” You give them a smile, and then hop off, ready to start your morning, as most of this side of the hemisphere gets ready for bed.

“You too.”

“And room two sixty-eight is stable, sedated, for now, but he bottomed out less than hour ago, so keep a close eye. I haven’t had a chance to orient him either, so give it a go, if you can.” Mal taps her passcode into the tablet with one eye closed, spine slowly relaxing downward with exhaustion. “Thank you again. For covering. I wasn’t about to be stuck on another long swing because Alexis decided not to grace us with her presence.” She rolls her eyes, and you incline your head in response, shrugging her off. Mal saved your ass six ways to Sunday when you were a new nurse here, and you’d do just about anything for her, and coming in when your coworker decides she wants to be a slag doesn't even count, considering you prefer to be here anyway. 

Shift change bustles down and up the floor, night shift coming on, days and others leaving. You make polite small talk with everyone, since you don’t know them as well. It’s their Friday. Tomorrow is your Monday; you’re just picking up. Everyone is thrilled to have you though, including the charge nurse, and you allow yourself to sink into the ups and downs of their conversation, back and forth about weekend plans, their kids, their relationships, their issues. 

In a group like this, you're seen. Not noticed. 

Just the way you like it. 

“Oh!” Mal calls out, breezing by the pit with her bag slung over her shoulder, watered down iced coffee in her grip.

“Go home.” You chide, and she sucks in a breath before opening her mouth again.

“I am, but one last thing-“

“Malaya. I got it.”

“I know, I know but this isn’t in the chart. Two sixty-eight, he’s military. There are three others here with him, two kind lurking in the hallway, and his partner is in his room, refusing to go home. He’s…weird. Got special permissions to bypass visiting hours.” She raises an eyebrow. “But they’re all quite fit. Caused a bit of a… stir.” Great. The last thing you needed in the ICU is a stir of any kind. You needed it calm. Peaceful.

“Okay, got it. Thanks. Now shoo.”

You check your email, skimming with speed, skipping over anything HR related, starring skills updates to look back at later, and casually replying to a request for a float to the PACU another day this week- Hi! I’d love to pick up a few hours if I can arrange it. What time are you needing? Before moving onto checks for your patients (too many, if anyone asked your opinion- which they wouldn’t, because why would administration want to ask a nurse their opinion on anything, right?) ensuring that everyone is in good shape, stable, relaxed, resting, or even better, fully sedated. Two of your patients are on vents, and you check in with the RT on shift before heading down the hall to your last, first stop of the day.

Two sixty-eight.

Two men are slumped over and asleep in the hallway chairs outside the room, arms folded, thighs spread wide, chins tucked to chest. One of them younger, probably closer to your age, chiseled jawline akin to Adonis, the type of rich beauty that would make anyone do a double take, and an older, albeit not by much, muscled, broad chested man with a distinguished moustache curling above his lip, eyes hidden beneath the rim of a hat.

These must be the guys causing the stir.

You stop outside the slider of two sixty-eight, drawing a deep breath before knocking and then pulling the slider, fogged glass parting to reveal your patient asleep, sedated, in the bed, and his partner, a hulking mass who sits at attention by his side. He’s broad, clad in black sweats, heavy arms and straight back showcasing his size- massive. The sweatshirt hides definition but judging by the appearance of the two in the hallway and your patient, you’d guess this guy was just as fit. He looks uncomfortable, body too big for the chair, brow creased with worry overtop the black cloth mask that covers his nose and mouth.

There’s something, in his eyes. Something devastated. Something you’ve seen before, in people who sit vigil like this, preparing for the worst, praying for the best, and something else, something that you recognize, but rarely see inside these walls. Something dark and severe, foreboding, even with part of a handsome face peeking out over the mask. 

He's already half lost to his grief.

He could be a ghost.

“Hi.” You whisper your name with a small smile and point to your identification tag. “I’m the overnight nurse.” You imbue the words with sweetness, kindness, but he doesn’t respond, just traces you from head to toe and gives a perfunctory nod. It’s not abnormal for a patient’s loved ones to be less than warm, especially to the graves nurse, the one who ends up interrupting their sleep at odd hours of the night, the one who’s usually here when the worst happens. You never take it personally. You’ve sat in that chair before. You’ve known the pain of this heartache, the way their hearts are cleaving in two, one half desperate to stay beating, the other begging to be lowered in a grave alongside their loved one.

You give the silent man an opportunity to speak when you step up to your patient’s monitor, and then motion to the man in the bed.

“This is John? Mr. MacTavish?”

John MacTavish. 

You’ve already read his chart back to front, memorizing his labs, his last vitals check, going over the scope of his procedure from this afternoon, and the tentative plan for the morning.

He’s a mess. Collapsed lung, hemothorax. Broken ribs, internal bleeding. Perforated liver. Broken wrist. Lacerations all over his body. Third degree burn on the entirety of his lower right quadrant. Shattered femur. Fractured hip. Triaged and treated in the field with less than stellar medical care. Came off the medevac and went right into surgery that lasted nearly ten hours long.  

Lucky to be alive. 

“Johnny.” He corrects, his Manchester accent sharp, rough. You type it into the chart, making a note that Johnny is the preferred name, over John, and duck down to check the bag that’s attached to his foley catheter. The man across from you tenses but doesn’t say anything, tracking your every movement like he’s nervous you might harm your patient.

“I’m just going to check this dressing. I would prefer not to wake him, so I’ll be as gentle as I can, okay?” You explain, motioning to the wrapped portion of his body. He doesn’t respond, just sits still as stone as your fingers nimbly move his gown to survey the would and it's dressing before putting everything back in place. You’re quick once you’re satisfied that it looks okay, tucking the blanket back in around him, careful not to jostle where his leg is immobilized, wrapped in gauze and elevated. “I know this has probably been a very frightening and difficult time for you.” You tell the man in the chair with a whisper. “If you need anything, have any questions, concerns, I’m here. For both of you. I’ll be here at least four, five nights a week as long as he’s on this floor, so we’ll get to know one another.” When he still doesn’t say anything, you try to fight the awkward feeling that’s vibrating up your spine. Okay, he clearly doesn’t want to talk to you. That’s fine. 

Your patient groans. His partner startles, body jolting, and then he’s on his feet, leaning over the bed, eyes searching, anticipating. He looks so… unsure. Worry etches across his face as he waits, and his hand hovers without purpose above the bed, flailing in the air like he doesn’t know what to do.

You stand back for a moment. Your patient, Johnny, will mostly likely be lucid for the first time in who knows how long, and you’d like a chance to orient him, let him realize his partner is here with him, tell him he’s going back in for surgery in the morning, before giving him some more pain medication.

The monitor beeps, signaling an increase in his heart rate, respiration, spiraling upwards until-

“Johnny?” The question is hopeful, nervous, and your patient grunts, tongue darting out to lick his lips before they crack open.

“Simon.” The name is a whisper, heavy with relief, and you make a mental note. Johnny and Simon. Room two-sixty-eight. “Whit happened?”

“You’re in the hospital.” Simon explains, anxiously glancing at you. “Can I… can I touch him?”

“Of course. Carefully.” He lowers his face to Johnny’s so slowly, so gently your heart skip a beat, tapping their foreheads together cautiously.

"Yer here." Johnny whispers, the fingers in his good hand barely lifting, reaching out to try to touch Simon, even though his body won't cooperate. "Thought Ah dreamed ye." You can see it, the heavy burden of love that lays between them, the thing that's brought them to this point, the thing that shines in Johnny's eyes as he tries to drink in the frame of Simon's face, tracing his features over and over, painting a picture to take with him... wherever he goes. 

What is it like, to be loved like that? To be known like that? To be held in someone's heart, cherished and protected? 

You had no idea, but these two did. Just one look, and you knew these two had something people all over the world would kill for. 

“I'm here. I'm right here." Something wet and desperate is caught in Simon's throat, and Johnny’s lips tug into a weak smile before it fades away with a grimace, his partner straightening with a wide hand tight on the bed railing, knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip. 

“Hi.” You tell Johnny your name quickly, eager to get the less important stuff out of the way and start working towards getting him some relief. “I’m your overnight nurse. How’s your pain?” He frowns in consideration before groaning.

“’s alright.”

“Don’t be brave.” Simon says, and you nod in agreement.

“I’d like to get you some relief now so you can sleep, if we can.” Pain management can be a delicate conversation with patients, and you never truly know how they’re going to respond until you get to this point for the first time. You smile down at him, and he gives you one back, sleepy and sweet, bright blue eyes peeking out beneath drooping lids.

“Bad.” He croaks, and Simon glances at you in expectation. You nod to reassure him, reassure them both.

“Alright. Let’s get you something, yeah?” You log his vitals with a few taps on the tablet. The order’s already in the chart, and you ready the dosage, turning your back to give them some privacy.

“Where’s-“

“At the Price’s.” Simon murmurs, voice low, it’s deep rumble vibrating around the room.

“Ach.” Johnny groans something out, but it’s lost to his discomfort, and you wince in sympathy, wiping the hub of his port with an alcohol swab.

“Okay. So, this should go a long way with your pain.” you tell him, disconnecting his line to replace it with the flush. Simon tenses, again, practically flinching in the chair when you approach Johnny with the first syringe of saline. His eyes crease in concentration, watching your fingers, trying to keep up with your movements. “I’m flushing the line.” You explain gently. “Then I’ll push the medication, like this,” You’re quick with your hands, swapping the syringes and then slowing down to administer the medication at the correct push rate. Simon visibly relaxes, only a fraction, after the explanation, and once you’re done, you attach a new flush. “It’s saline. Compatible with the body, we use it to make sure that all the medication is moved through the tube.” He’s focused on your movements, and you reattach the fluids line before patting Johnny’s shoulder softly. “There, all done. He should be feeling much better here in a moment or two.”

“Cheers, bonnie.” Johnny slurs, and you huff a laugh.

“I’ll be back in a half hour for a vitals check, and then after than I’ll leave you be for a while. You do have another surgery scheduled for tomorrow morning, early-“ you glance at Simon, hoping that someone came by to already talk to him, and he nods. “So, I’ll see you before then too. I’m always a click away, if you need something.” You point to the button on the side of the bed. “If either of you need anything, I’m here. Okay?”

“Whit surgery?” Johnny grunts. Simon’s jaw flexes behind the mask, but he hesitates. It’s long enough that Johnny tries to rouse himself, and you rush to answer, to settle him.

“You have a broken hip, and your femur is shattered.” Nothing like ripping the band aid off. “Orthopedics will come by in the morning to talk about the plan, but they have to go back in to continue to work on the repair.” You don’t mention that his leg is still partially open, packed for reentry in six hours, that the damage to his lung and liver took priority when he came in, and by the end of that, the swelling in his leg was too severe to continue. You’re not the doctor, so it’s not your job to advise your patient or his family of his prognosis, really. You need to keep him calm, comfortable. Alive. Advocate for him, for both of them. That’s the job. Simon can tell him what he wishes, when he’s lucid.

Johnny’s lashes flutter, and he mumbles something, fingers curling in Simon’s grip. You take your cue, checking your watch. “I’ll let you get some rest.” You enter a quick vitals check, and then turn to leave.

“Thank you.” Simon murmurs to your back, and you pause half step, head turned over your shoulder.

“Of course.”

Six hours later, you’re slipping back into the room to say good morning to a groggy, but still somewhat alert patient.

“Good morning.” You whisper, and then frown a little at where Simon is still sitting in the same spot, upright with heavy eyelids and mussed hair peeking out from the black hood. He looks like he hasn’t slept for a single moment, blue black circles shining under his eyes, stiff and uncomfortable in the too small chair.

 Maybe we could get a recliner in here. 

A big recliner. 

“How’re we feeling this morning?”

“Alright.” Johnny grumbles.

“He’s in pain.” Simon snaps at you abruptly, insistent, and irritated, and your muscles tense instinctively before you forcibly relax them, un-bunching your shoulders from beneath your ears.

Deep breath. 

Simon’s head cocks, just slightly, and then his attention is back on Johnny, two hands cradling one another, fingers intertwined like they’re afraid to let go.

“Okay, let’s see if I can get you a little bit of medication.” You pull out your phone, flicking open your work app to message his doctor. “They’ll probably order a small dosage of dilaudid, have you ever had that before?”

“Na.”

“Might make you a bit loopy. I’ll have them give it to you when you get upstairs.” You glance at Simon. “Did you get down to the café, grab something for breakfast?” He shakes his head no, and you briefly considering encouraging him before realizing it will probably go over like a lead balloon. You smile at Johnny instead. “Your partner tells me you prefer to go by Johnny?”

“Does he?” He blinks, blue eyes alight behind sleepy lids, looking over to Simon like he’s caught a kid in a cookie jar. “Aye, ah jalouse ye kin ca' me Johnny, bonnie.”

“English, MacTavish.” Simon murmurs, stroking a soft semi-circle into his arm with his thumb.

“Ye can call me Johnny, pretty girl.” He speaks slowly, dragging his consonants and vowels until he gets to the last two words, an impish smile twisting his lips.

Pretty girl.

It’s suddenly incredibly warm in this room.

You roll your eyes on instinct as you’ve trained yourself to do whenever a patient lobs a compliment or a flirtatious quip at you, but it’s usually only ever old men. Or women.

Not beautiful, sculpted Scotsmen with sleepy smiles, stunning blue eyes, and mysteriously handsome, brooding partners.

You clear your throat, self-conscious, and startle just a bit when you hear the door opening, OR team sidling through to bring him upstairs.

“Alright, well. This team will take great care of you, and I’ll see you tonight when I’m back.” You pour positivity into your words, a practice you’ve maintained during your career, thinking good things for your patients, being positive for your patients. A good attitude can go a long way, especially for patients who may have a long road ahead of them, like Johnny.

Slipping out the door, you turn your head to where Simon listens to the surgeon intently, brows lowered, nodding occasionally, and splitting his attention between the (what you’re sure is) a one-sided conversation and where Johnny is half awake in bed, a nurse and two techs busy around him, prepping for the walk and elevator ride, their hands still clutched together. 

Johnny looks over, small sigh expanding across his chest, locking eyes with you for a moment. You freeze, taken aback by the clarity in his gaze, his face shifting from uncomfortable and pained into a small smile, lopsided and sweet.

You give him one back and disappear down the too-white corridor, new soles squeaking against the floor.

Badging out always twists your stomach with the same kind of dread. It's Tell-Tale Heart kind of dread, something that starts in your mind and spreads through your bones, a symptom of malignancy, sickness that ties you in knots, tips you over into dark waters with waves that break too close to the shore. It keeps you rolling your neck and shoulders over and over to release some of the tired tension that’s been building in your back, trying to relax and ease the anxiety that's building up inside you like a tea kettle.

You’re half sleepwalking, mind already wandering when your shoes squeak to a halt outside of two sixty-eight on your way to the elevator, in front of the door parted to reveal Simon sitting in the chair by Johnny’s empty bed, arms crossed, head tipped backwards.

Is he asleep? 

You purse your lips and tap against the glass with your knuckle.

“Hi.” You call to no response. Probably asleep. “Simon?” you whisper his name, and once he doesn’t respond, you turn the dimmer all the way down, satisfied that he’s getting some rest. You set your uneaten banana and protein bar on the little table by the bed before sneaking away, sliding the door shut with a satisfying click.

The weather this morning, this evening, is gorgeous. The sun is a golden orange orb peeking over the horizon, spraying a myriad of colors ranging from pinks to yellows across the rooftops of the city, dipping the morning commute in an effortless glow. It feels good on your face, the warmth, and you roll the long sleeve shirt that you wear under your scrubs up to your elbows to soak it in through your forearms too, stopping to stand still for a moment, for the first time in hours, in front of the back entrance to the hospital. 

In the sun, in the light, it's easy to close your eyes and pretend that you're something, somebody else. Easy to tilt your face to the light and let it wash over you, bathe you in fire, burn you clean like a witch on a pyre. 

Your watch beeps, dragging your focus to where it displays the time, a stark and devastating reminder that you have to get going, and you give the hospital one last look before beginning your trek to the train. 

See you tonight. 

#peaches writes #simple math #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x soap #ghoap #ghoap x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #soap x reader x ghost

[spaceclefairy]

Keep that Coffee Hot

You, a bounty agent. The Ghoul, a bounty hunter. The Ghoul needs to cash in on his most recent job and ends up with more than the contract promised.

Act I | Act II | Act III | Ao3 Compilation

When the Ghoul walks through the front door of your office, you know he's here for one of two things: a contract or a cashout. This no-name wasteland town is little more than a hub for the bounty agencies, so you get rough characters milling in and out of town all the time, but no one can clear a street quite like this Ghoul. You always know when he's back in town - the few people milling about scatter, and even the other bounty hunters coming through make themselves scarce. Even in the middle of a wasteland, he somehow makes the place even more desolate with his just presence alone. 

You don't mind the Ghoul, personally. Dealing with him is part of your job, after all - you're a bounty agent, he's a bounty hunter. You manage the contracts, he hunts the target, you give the payout when he's done. Easy-peasy. He's intimidating, sure, and dangerous, but he's always been all business with you, and he’s damn good for business. 

And if he’s a little flirty sometimes, well, you don’t mind.

This time when the Ghoul struts through your door, he’s dusty from the wasteland outside and carrying a grimy, drippy leather bag in hand. The leather bag squelches faintly as whatever's inside shifts around, dripping brownish liquid on the scrubbed wooden floor. He greets you in his usual way, with a howdy and a sugary darlin’, and plonks the bag down on your desk, goo oozing out from the seams. 

“Howdy, Coop,” you greet, eying the bag with glee. As you drag it over to you, it leaves a snail-trail of ick on the wood, staining it further. You peer into the bag and confirm it's the correct bounty in your contract.

“One mutant heart, as requested,” the Ghoul says. He watches you with a faint amused smile. “Never brought the bounty straight to the agent before.”

You dump the faintly-pulsing mutant heart out on the desk. It’s overly large - much larger than a normal human’s - and gray-brown, and it spurts little gushes of blood when you poke it, so you know it’s still fresh. You’re surprised it’s still working, but that’s why you paid for the Ghoul: he gets things done quickly. 

“That's because I'm the client this time.”

“Aw, you asked for me?” the Ghoul teases, only a little derisively, grinning at you. “That’s sweet.”

You roll your eyes. “I didn't ask for you - I gave the contract straight to you.”

“Straight to little ol’ me, huh?” he grins, resting his elbows on top of your desk.

Anyone else would have been shot for getting this close to you and your contract book, but you’ve always had a little bit of a soft spot for this Ghoul. It might be the flirting swaying your judgment. It might be that he’s actually fairly polite when he comes in - for a bounty hunter anyway. Regardless, you can’t deny you let him get away with more than you let the others who come in for payout.

“That’s what I said, Cooper,” you say as you duck down under your desk to retrieve a sack of caps from the safe and a case stocked with chems and rad-away. “You’re expensive, but you’re worth it. And I needed that done quickly.”

The Ghoul gestures down at the faintly thumping heart. “What’d you want with that guy anyway?”

“Ex-boyfriend.”

“Explains why you wanted his heart in a bag,” the Ghoul comments. He sounds vaguely impressed. “Your ex-boyfriend was a mutant with two heads.”

“Four heads if you count the two below the belt,” you reply. You hand the Ghoul the bag of caps first and the case full of chems second. “Here's your payout and a bonus for quick work.”

The Ghoul opens the case slightly and snaps it shut, apparently pleased by the way his non-existent eyebrows raise. He shoves the bag of caps and case into his shoulder bag and slings it back over his shoulder. “Much appreciated. You got anything else for me to do?”

“Plenty. Let me check the contract log.”

You reach for your book to check, but he stops you by dragging the book over to him. Truly, anyone else would have been shot. Not him. He flips open a page and runs a gloved finger down the crease in the spine, pretending to read whatever’s on the page.

The Ghoul glances up at you. “Are you in the contract log?”

You meet his gaze, eyebrows raised. “Are you telling me you want to do me, Cooper?”

“Sure am, darlin’.”

You lean back in your chair, eyeing the Ghoul where he stands. You’ve always liked his eyes. It’s the only part of him left that looks like there’s still humanity to him.

The Ghoul steps back. “But, if a ghoul’s not really your thing…”

“Didn’t say that.”

“Then what do you say?”

You pause, pretending to think, but you don’t really have to think about it. “Sure, why not?”

“You got a backroom or somethin’ or we just movin’ your book out of the way?”

You nod towards the door behind you, not that you’d be opposed to just fucking him here in the middle of your office. “Yeah, I got a backroom.”

Said backroom constitutes little more than a spare desk and chair with a window, but that’s really all you’ll need. There are no curtains for the window, so whoever walks by is going to get an eyeful of what’s going on if they peek in at the wrong time. You don’t particularly care, and the Ghoul surely doesn’t.

The hat and duster stay put as the Ghoul backs you up against the desk. He’s only a bit taller than you, but his presence takes up the remainder of the tiny, boiling hot room. The hollow, pitted flesh of his face appears raw and red, but his eyes are pretty and alert. His lips are dry and smooth against yours, raw like the rest of his skin. You don’t mind - there’s no room to be picky out in this wasteland town. 

You’re not sure how he’s not miserable in the heat of the tiny room, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. In any case, you drag him closer by his belt, fisting your hand in his duster.

The Ghoul kisses you again, then strips off one of his leather gloves with his teeth and tosses it on the desk behind you. “Guess a ghoul is a step up from a mutant, at least?”

You yank his belt open and shimmy his pants down over his hips - he doesn’t let you get them down any farther. “I like ghouls.”

“Well, then, you’re a fuckin’ weirdo, ain’t ya?”

You slide down the side of the desk and hit your knees, your back pressed against the creaking wood. “Works out well for you, doesn’t it, Coop?”

His still-gloved hand wraps around the back of your neck, the leather sticking to your skin in the heat. “Sure does, darlin’.”

You take his exposed cock in hand and lick him root to tip, grinning at the hiss he gives you. His hand tightens around the back of your neck, catching in your hair. He looms over you, his unoccupied hand planted on the desk, blacking out the sides of your vision with his duster. You slide your hand down around the base of his cock and inch your lips down his shaft, hollowing your cheeks out, and he groans, low and slow, hips twitching like he's fighting the urge to just bury himself in your throat. You look up at him, wrapping your tongue around the tip of his cock, and his eyes are dark deep in the hollows of his eye sockets. 

He doesn't tolerate your teasing long. No, he tangles his hand in your hair and presses himself deep down your throat until your nose is flush with his skin. You gag around him, and he grins, pulling out and thrusting back in so you'll gag on him again.

“That's it,” the Ghoul says, teetering right on the edge of breathlessness, “you take it so well.”

You punctuate his words by scraping your teeth down his shaft, which he seems to like by the way he slams himself down your throat. Your eyes water, and you can feel the tears rolling down your face as surely as you can feel sweat snaking through your hair.

“Look so good on your knees for me,” he says, threading his fingers through your hair. He catches your chin with his ungloved hand, tilting your face up with his cock still in your mouth. His thumb swipes through the tears staining your face. “Pretty as a picture.”

The backroom is only getting hotter the longer you're stuck on your knees, clothed and trapped underneath the Ghoul’s duster with him. You're sure you're soaking through your clothes by now. Your hand snakes down to undo your top and pants so you can get some relief from the heat. It doesn’t help much, but it’s enough to keep your head from swimming.

The Ghoul takes that as an indication you’re itching to take your clothes off (you are). He hauls you to your feet, picks you up, and deposits you on top of the desk, looming over you with a grin. You let him strip the rest of your shirt off and help him get your pants off of one leg. You squeeze his hips between your thighs and hook your foot around his back, pulling him flush against you. 

“Take off the duster, Coop,” you say, moving to tug it down his shoulder. “It’s too hot in here for that.”

He takes the hand clutching his duster and pins it down to the desk. “I think you just want me to get naked.”

You smirk. “That, too.”

He strips off the other glove with his teeth and grips your hip. “Maybe next time, doll.”

“Aw, you wanna fuck me again - oh, fuck-”

The Ghoul doesn’t let you finish teasing him, instead thrusting into you with a rough stroke. The words get caught in your mouth, and he loves that. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Dick,” you say, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him into a breathless kiss. “Just come here.”

The Ghoul yanks you closer by the hip and wastes no time rutting into you. He can’t decide where to put his hands and runs them up your hips, your sides, grabs at your tits, before finally settling one hand around the back of your neck (seems to be his favorite place to grab you) and the other hand down in your lap so he can press his thumb to your clit. You clench around him, and that just makes him thrust into you harder, rubbing tight circles into your clit.

You’re not gonna last long - not like this. It’s hot, and he feels so good, thick and heavy in your cunt, and the way he groans in your ear and licks at your neck makes you whine.

You can tell the Ghoul is getting close to from the way his hips start to stutter, pressing deeper into you, pace quickening. He yanks your head back by your hair and latches onto your neck, sucking a bruise into your skin.

He presses his lips to your ear, “Where do you want it, doll?”

“Inside,” you reply, tightening your legs around him. “Less cleanup. And I’ve got extra radaway.”

The Ghoul takes that to heart, pounding into you until you cum with a sharp whine. It doesn’t take him long to finish after you, spilling himself deep inside you. He pulls out, cock soaked and softening slowly, but he’s not done with you. He stuffs his fingers into your cunt to keep you full, pumping in and out, and keeps pressing down on your clit with his thumb. It’s teetering violently on the edge of too much, overstimulating you, but you cum again anyway, this time harder and louder from the aftershocks ripping through you.

You drop bonelessly to the desk when he pulls his fingers out, and you watch him idly through your comedown as he licks his own fingers clean.

After a beat, you clamber up onto your elbows. “You still want another contract?”

The Ghoul adjusts himself and zips up his pants, chuckling lowly. “I just fucked you stupid and you’re talking about work.”

You grab your shirt and pull it down over your head, climb down off the desk, and set to work pulling up your pants. “Gets boring around here - gotta keep you coming back somehow.”

He snorts. “Oh, babydoll, you’ll be begging to get rid of me if you keep that up.”

“Try me.”

“I could use another contract,” he says. The slow grin that spread across his face would give anyone else chills. “Let’s see what you’ve got in your little book out there.”

#cooper howard #fallout prime #fotv #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #fallout the ghoul

[tomorrcwz]

✰ LATE NIGHT'S DESIRE , O. PIASTRI

[ preview ] working as a mclaren strategist for years, the newest driver is the perfect candidate to satisfy your hunger — he does make it easy for you, coming to your door in the middle of the night.

[ tw ] smut, unprotected sex, dom!fem!reader, teeny tiny little bit of corruption kink, spit kink, inappropriate work relationship | gif by @princemick

[ a/n ] idk what this is but yeah slay or whatever bruh. Might write more smut about oscar, I'm really fixed on him rn + ITS MELBOURNE GP and in honor of that i had to write a little something

. minors do not read | masterlist .

The sight of the quiet, charmingly awkward Oscar makes your blood pump fastly though your veins as the desire within you grows. You know its wrong, having inappropriate thoughts about a co-worker, one that isn't as secure as you are on the team but you can't help yourself with it; the need to fuck whoever is handsome and new is strong enough to make you black out rules.

First you had Lando — he was eager to fuck you as you pleased, then you had to have Daniel, who mind you, wasn't as easy to get in your bed and he also wasn't to corrupt as he was the one to mirror your actions and pull some stuff. Sadly it ended rather fast with him getting a girlfriend. But you still have Lando every other month as the boy can't keep a girl around, making him fall regularly in your bed or wherever you are to fuck. It's not that fun anymore, quiet bland. The routine is always the same — first he'll finger you to get you wet enough and then you push him to whatever surface and take his cock. Afterwards you clean yourself, Lando already out of the door.

So, that brings you to Oscar.

He's fresh blood, newly single, and dear lord in heaven over the winter break he put on a lot more muscles, looking ridiculous strong, causing your pussy to flutter whenever you see him. You flirt with him quite often and you do see his brown eyes cloud with lust, but you want to take your time. There's no need to rush.

But the day comes.

Its Sunday night, hours after the race and celebrations of Oscar taking P3, when you hear knocks on the door of your hotel room. Reaching for your phone, the homescreen only shows a few messages from people you're currently not interested in responding. No Lando. Normally, he'd shot a text beforehand, so you're not sure of who is standing opposite the wooden door.

Breathing in, you swing your bare legs off the bed and walk across the room, opening the door. The sight greeting you leaves your mouth agape — Oscar's wearing an maroon satin shirt, tucked into a pair of black slacks. On his thick fingers are two rings which you've never seen him wear but it suits him. He looks hot, even more so with his hair all toulouse and a curl glued to his forehead. It's an indicator that he is influenced by Lewis and Guanyu, both very fashionable drivers on the grid, and you could kiss them right now because Oscar has never looked this hot. He is but this is otherworldly.

"Everything alright, Oscar?", you ask, crossing your arms under your breasts and unintentionally pushing them up, presenting the man with your more than welcoming cleavage.

He can't help himself; his focus rests on the soft curves of your tits, the skin glistening under a sweat film the heat of middle east brings.

Clearing his throat, the Mclaren driver, sends you a dashing smile. "Yes, actually I've missed you at the celebration and was wondering if you—", he stops himself, cheeks flaming hotly.

"If I want?"

You can see the thoughts running around faster than the car on the track earlier. Must be hard to grasp whatever plagues his mind.

"I was wondering if you'd celebrate with me", he whispers, somewhat bashful which is endearing.

"Sure, let me throw on something else to wear, can't go out in this", you say, hands moving across your body to clarify your point; due to the heat you're only wearing some boxers and a flimsy babydoll top. Oscar gazes at you, shaking his head. "No, no, I mean celebrate in, you know . .", he stumbles over the words, blush now burning his ears too.

Oh. Oh.

To end his misery, you catch his wrists to pull him inside before hitting the door close with your foot and shove him against it.

For the first time you kiss him, all teeth and tongue, and its different from what you have imagined — his hands are rougher, caressing your lower back, creeping under the top to feel the warm skin of yours. Grabbing you by the hips, he sloths his dick against your stomach and grinds. He doesn't feel small, maybe even bigger than his teammate. In your imagination, he was softer yet he let you guide him to bed exactly like dream-oscar did and falls backwards on top of the cream coloured sheets, breath hitching in anticipation.

"Remove your clothes, baby."

You reach for the hem of your top as you command him, letting him stare at your tits while he steps out of his bottoms and throws the shirt in a corner. His milky smooth skin's glowing in the dim lighting a street lamp spends, and you see a map of freckles on his chest as well as a happy tail lending down to his beautiful cock.

Spitting in your hands, slander finger gently touch his length, causing Oscar's head to fall back, lips wide agape and you take the opportunity to spit in his mouth. "Shallow, Osc, be a good boy f'me, yeah?", you coe, hot breath fawning the auricle. He does, groaning lowly but its getting louder when you bring your legs on either side of his lap, left hand grabbing his cock and coating it in your wetness before probing the fat mushroom tip at your pussy, gliding down till every inch is inside you.

The feeling of his cock might aswell change everything; he's the biggest you've ever taken, scraping and burning you inner spongy walls deliciously as he kisses your cervix.

Fuck Lando, he doesn't have anything on Oscar.

"M so full, you're filling me up so good, baby", the praise let the man smile in a haze, far lost in how good you ride him. Your wet hole holds his grith snuggly as you fuck yourself on his cream coated length — his eyes roll back in pleasure at the sight of a white ring forming on the base of his dick, something he has never seen before, and it spurrs him on to grind his hips into yours, getting a worish wail out of you.

You fuck him till his abdomen thighten and he pumps you full of cum, that is oozing out of your desperately moving body, chasing your own orgasm. Oscar leans in, bitting on your pulse point. Then you fall over the edge, legs shaking as you still on top of him.

After catching your breath, you charmingly smirk at him before he grinds up in your fluttering hole — he's already getting hard again.

#f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri #f1 fanfic #f1

[tsxkkis]

# tsukishima kei - eyes don't lie

a/n: as @moonswolfie said, this man has me wrapped around his finger, so here's another tsukki fic^^ i wanted to post it earlier, but bcs of school i sadly wasn't able to do that

summary: tsukishima definitely isn't jealous. or is he?

warnings: none

tsukishima's eyes were always glued to you.

his world revolved around you ever since you were little. although distant and dry at first, tsukishima seemed to take keen interest in your person almost immediately. he was lucky enough to end up in the same high school and class as you, even more lucky when he found a handwritten love letter in his locker, the writing obviously yours.

his eyes would glint whenever they landed on your frame, his lips always curving into a small, barely noticeable smile. yet this time, his look was completely different.

he looked annoyed, almost mad as he stood in the corner, his back against the wall as he carefully scanned the situation. the music was quite loud at the party, the house spacious enough to fit too many people for tsukishima's liking. it wasn't his party, of course; if it were up to him, he wouldn't be here in the first place. but something about your sweet, slightly pouty face while you asked him to accompany you was enough to convince him.

and now he was left watching as none other than kuroo tetsurou shamelessly flirted with you, talking and laughing at the other end of the room.

he seemed so irritated he didn't even notice his best friend standing right beside him, the freckled boy trying to contain his laughter upon seeing tsukishima's expression.

'ah, tsukki, you look even more grumpy than usual.' yamaguchi said, a small giggle leaving his mouth when his friend turned to face him, his expression so funny he couldn't contain his laughter anymore. 'i've never seen you so jealous.'

'i am not jealous.'

'right, and my name's hinata shoyo.'

tsukishima rolled his eyes, well aware that yamaguchi was, in fact, right. he was jealous beyond belief, almost to the point of making his blood boil. but it wasn't without its reasons.

you were beautiful, and not only in his eyes. many people from your high school, as well as outside of it, found you attractive, and due to this specific factor, tsukishima was afraid of someone swooping in and taking you away from him. no matter how many times yamaguchi assured him that you're not interested in anyone else, there was always a voice in the very back of his head telling him otherwise.

but still, he didn't utter a word to you about it. ever. he didn't want to show any weakness, brushing it off for the time being and pretending like he's not, in fact, quite hurt.

his eyes landed on you once again, his expression softening a bit when noticing you walking in his direction, a bright, wide smile gracing your face.

'i finally found you.' you said, tsukishima immediately noticing the sparkles in your eyes the moment they met his. an almost unnoticeable smile appeared on his face, his hand gently patting the top of your head, fingers brushing through your soft hair. 'want to go get some fresh air?'

the blonde hummed, nodding in response as you quickly grabbed him by his hand, almost dragging him to the nearest exit with a big smile on your face.

upon leaving the building, tsukishima laid his back against the wall, eyes glued to you and carefully scanning your every move.

'what're you thinking about?'

his head tilted to the side, a small mumble leaving his lips.

'nothing.'

hearing his answer, you sighed, walking up a few steps to stand right in front of him, a semi pouty look on your face. your hands went up to cup his cheeks, immediately scoring a theatrical groan from him, the boy trying to hide that he obviously liked whe  you did it.

'i don't believe you. you seem deep in thought.'

'what were you and kuroo talking about?'

tsukishima's eyes were focused on yours, his gaze gentle. and yet there was something in the way he looked at you that indicated something wasn't right.

'oh, we just talked about volleyball, what he's been doing after graduating high school, and- wait.' you stopped in the middle of the sentence, making a face that ysukishima couldn't quite decipher; something between an excited and mischievous look. she took a deep breath, her grin growing bigger with each second.

'are you jealous?'

'no, i'm not.'

'yes you are! i knew it.'

'no, i'm not.'

'you are.'

'i'm no- alright.' tsukishima sighed, admitting defeat this time. 'maybe i am. but it's your fault.'

you furrowed your brows, trying to understand what he meant by that. tsukishima saw the expression of yours and almost immediately continued talking, a short but sweet explanation.

'you're too pretty, one day someone's going to steal you from me.'

he didn't expect you to laugh in response, standing up on your tip toes to give him a quick, sweet kiss on the lips.

'it's cute.' you said, giggling at your boyfriend as you saw his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. 'but i'm not going anywhere. there's only one guy in this world who i view as a life partner.'

'and who would that be?' tsukishima asked, a nonchalant tone as he played dumb just to hear the answer.

'you, idiot.'

the blonde boy smiled, and this time it was a genuine one, that would only appear on his face when around you. he ruffled your hair playfully, laughing when you got annoyed about him ruining your hair.

he looked over to the sides, smiling when realized it was just the two of you. he quickly leaned down to kiss you, hand resting on the side of your face.

'i love you.'

you smiled into the kiss upon hearing his whisper, pulling back for a second to look at his face. she wrapped her arms around him tightly, trapping him in a hug.

'i love you too, you know? and i don't plan on going anywhere.'

taglist: @moonswolfie

#tsxkkis #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #karasuno x reader #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff

[osaemu]

Hi, could you please write a Mafia Boss! Suguru Geto where Geto falls in love with the reader because he spends time with her as she nurses him back to heath after he was caught in an assassination attempt.

DOCTOR!READER X MAFIA BOSS!GETO

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: your boss stumbles in, battered and bruised in the middle of the night. (mafia!au)

contents: fem!reader. mentions of blood. medicine-related things written by someone with no medical experience. semi-suggestive ending if you squint.

working as one of the few doctors in a mafia was stressful. but being the only one on the night shift after a major assassination attempt? hell.

you were all set for an uneventful night in the mafia's infirmary when suguru geto, the boss himself, stumbled in, hand pressed to a fresh wound on his waist.

it wasn't uncommon for him to be seen around at nighttime. in fact, sometimes you would see him strolling around headquarters more often on your night shift than on your normal shift. what wasn't common was to see him like this—all battered and bloody.

one second you were ready to spend all night scrolling on your phone, the next your infamous boss comes in with blood dripping all over your freshly cleaned floor.

after a quick double-take, you rush over and guide him to one of the hospital beds. "fuck, what happened?"

geto doesn't reply right away, which is worrying, but you don't press the issue. it can wait until he's in a more stable condition. 

the next hour goes by in a blur—you clean and dress the wound and get some pain medication in him. having been actively in medicine for a couple years, the metallic scent of blood is nothing new, and yet the sight and smell still make your stomach turn. 

you'd think that a doctor who willingly chooses to work in a mafia would have no problem with seeing blood all over the place, and yet, here you were. but it wasn't your place to be picky—a patient was a patient, and like it or not, there would be blood.

after a stressful hour of observations and medications, all sensors are finally showing that he's stable, which is a relief. 

geto seems to see this as well, as he offers you a dry smile and a "not bad."

"it's just my job," you reply offhandedly as you sit across from him. you're still running on the adrenaline rush you get whenever someone  comes in hurt, and it's clear that your hope for an uneventful night is long gone. "so, how'd you get hurt?"

geto smiles ruefully and observes his wound. "heh, you wouldn't believe it. someone tried to assassinate me."

"really."

he laughs and winces slightly, resulting in you immediately advising him to move his chest muscles as little as possible.

his chest muscles...

now that the initial high has faded, you fully realize that you're alone with suguru geto. your boss. and he's shirtless. half his chest is swathed in bandages, but his abs are as prominent as ever.

you realize you've been looking one second too long when he smirks and clicks his tongue. "my my, a doctor checking out her brutally attacked patient. can't resist, can you?"

is he flirting with me?

caught off guard, you stumble over your words and barely manage to say "no, what? your wound- just making sure it's doing alright—" not slick.

geto grins and shakes his head. "do you do this with every guy who comes in here?"

"what's it to you if i do?" you're not sure where your sudden boldness comes from, but somehow the fact that geto's your boss seems to have suddenly slipped your mind.

however, he certainly knows his place—especially when he raises an eyebrow and reminds you of it. "i'm your boss, sweetheart. can't have one of my employees flirting with every man she meets."

fuck, did he really just call me sweetheart?

doing your best not to let your thoughts show on your face, you turn away and grab a roll of bandages to redress his wound. "i should reapply the bandages. yours are already bleeding through." 

it's true—it hasn't been long, but splotches of scarlet red are starting to show through the gauzy white bandages. 

"you sure you're not just tryin' to get your hands on me?" geto asks coyly with a slight tilt of his head. fuck, what's in the air tonight?

you scoff and start peeling off the blood-soaked bandages on his chest. "you wish."

"you have no idea."

what the hell? seriously, why's the boss of the regional mafia flirting with me? is he drunk or something? a quick glance at one of the many machines surrounding your desk shows that there isn't any alcohol besides the medication in his bloodstream. 

you decide not to dignify his comment with a response, and instead throw the reddened bandages in the trash. as you reach for the fresh roll of bandages, geto's voice stops you halfway.

"so, what're you doing for the rest of the night?" he asks, dark eyes fixed on yours. 

"uh, i'm on the night shift. and you aren't going anywhere, by the way," you reply, starting to apply the fresh bandages on his still-raw wound. "unless you want to bleed out or get attacked again."

geto laughs at that, earning another reminder from you that he should try not to do anything to strain his chest muscles. "okay, okay, doc. whatever you say."

"don't call me doc."

"mhm."

you sigh and lean back in your chair, already tired despite your shift not even being close to over. there's warm, sticky blood all over your hands and floor—you should probably take care of that. as you step away to wash your hands, geto speaks again.

"tell me, doc, why're you with the mafia? you don't seem too fond of blood, and there's a lot around these parts."

you turn on the water and start scrubbing his blood off your hands, the steady coolness helping you relax. "what makes you say that?"

"you squirm every time blood gets on you."

so, he really is observant. you had heard rumors of the boss's qualities, and so far, most of them had been true. observant? check. smug? check. condescending? maybe a little.

as you turn off the water and dry your hands, you look back at geto. "it's just... icky." did i really just use the word 'icky' in front of my boss?

geto laughs again, waving you off when you automatically start to remind him not to move for the third time now. "don't worry sweetheart, i've been hurt before."

once again refusing to acknowledge the s-word, you drag your chair back to your desk and plop down, leaning back and gazing at the ceiling. "you should get some rest."

"i'd rather stay up with you."

it takes you a couple minutes to coax him to try and sleep, and after you rattle off all the healing benefits sleep would give to him, geto knows he's defeated.

he finally sighs and makes a face. "can i get some sleep drugs or something?"

"d'you mean sedatives? sure, are you in any pain?"

geto rolls his eyes good-naturedly when you correct his casual language and shakes his head. "s'mostly numb."

you nod and start to fill a syringe with a clear blue liquid. after a moment of silence, you ask "so, what happened to them?"

"to who?"

you turn and meet his gaze. something aboht his eyes seems more friendly than when he first stumbled in, but it could just be because now he wasn't bleeding waterfalls anymore.

"the assassin? assassins?"

geto blinks and grins, shaking his head. "oh, they're long gone. fuckers thought it'd be easy to get rid of me, heh..."

after a moment, he looks you up and down and whistles. "too bad i have a pretty lil' doctor to save me, yeah?"

oh yeah, he's definitely been flirting this whole time.

you close the syringe and turn back to geto, a dry smile on your lips. "can't be flirting with one of my patients, can i, sir?" it's the first time tonight you've appropriately addressed him, and something about it makes him smile.

"oh, of course not. but how 'bout with your boss?"

you roll your eyes good-naturedly. "even worse."

"what if i gave you a raise?"

"tempting."

he laughs at that and holds out his arm. "shoot me, doc."

three words, and you're back to the attentive, precise doctor you're supposed to be—not the casual flirt from just a moment ago. you're no longer interested in entertaining his antics, but concentrated on doing your job right. after all, that's why he pays you, isn't it?

geto smiles to himself, drifting off to thoughts of the other things he could make you do for money. and maybe one day, for him.

but until then, he'd drop by the infirmary whenever he had a chance. it wasn't anything crazy. you were interesting, and he was interested. if he had to fake injuries to see you, so be it—tonight had a time limit, but suguru geto wanted more.

#osaemu #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #suguru geto x you #geto suguru x you #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk suguru #geto drabbles #jjk drabbles #geto fic #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #geto imagines

[whatawonderfulexistence--blog]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part V

Thank you as always to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading for me, you're the best bb!! ❤️❤️

Hello everyone!! This chapter is going to be a little more plot/lore heavy. But, we still get some sweet and flirty boys. IV brings Reader dinner and II is becoming more comfortable in his flirting. Thank you so much for reading, if you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!

WARNINGS: None

Part IV - Part VI

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was one of those times where your store was absolutely slammed. "I'll be right with you Jay, just give me one second." You clap the older man on the shoulder as you round the counter.

"No worries darlin', I got all day." He smiles cheerfully at you." You hurriedly set a fresh batch of coffee to brew, quickly cleaning up the station.

"Next batch will be done in about ten minutes guys." You smile as you pass by a tow of your usuals, a group of old timers that would set up shop at the shelf along one of the windows and spend their day drinking cups of coffee and playing scratch tickets.

"Now Miss (Y/N), don't you go running off, I got a vibe to pick with you young lady." You skidded to a halt, turning in your heels to face the myriad of curious stares.

"You better make this quick Randy, I got a line out the door." You huff with a sarcastic smile.

"I just want to know what you're doing hanging around with those cultists." Your eye involuntarily twitched as he spit out the word. "I'd just hate to see you get mixed up in that crowd."

"They're nice boys Randy." You hurry up to the counter as you continue to call over your shoulder. "It might do you some good to actually get to know them before you try to crucify them over nothing.

"Why don't you try inviting them to the Fall Festival?" Jay asks gently.

"Unfortunately I don't think they'd go. I know it's hard to believe but they're just as nervous about you as you are about them." You explain with a huff.

"I think it's worth a shot at least." He leans in a bit to whisper to you. "Now I can't speak for everyone obviously, but I think if the townsfolk actually got to meet them and see that they're not some big ol' scary monster in the woods… well, they might just come around." He offers his advice with a patient smile. "If you're saying they're a good group of guys I trust your judgment. Your word means a lot more to me than some blood thirsty reporter after a story."

"Thanks Jay, I'll ask them. Who knows, maybe they'll show up." He bids you farewell before leaving you to tend to the rest of your sea of customers. After what felt like an eternity your store was finally empty. You groaned, slumping over the counter. The cool linoleum felt nice against your sticky skin. You jolted up at the sound of the bell ringing above the door, eyes flashing over to reveal II and IV looking at you curiously. "Hey guys." You give them a tired smile.

"Everything alright, love? You look exhausted." II approaches the counter, his eyes full of concern.

"Yeah, just a long day." You explain. You sit down in your chair, resting your elbows on the counter. II copies your motions, his eyes searching yours, his nose just barely out of reach from bumping into you.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" You shake your head in response.

"You boys are already too good to me as it is." You giggle as II playfully rolls his eyes. "I'll be alright, just gotta do some quick cleaning before I go upstairs. Then it's a cup of ramen cause I'm too lazy to cook and shitty movie re-runs until I pass out on my couch."

"A cup of ramen isn't a meal, doll." He tuts.

"I know that, doctor." He chuckles at your sarcastic tone. "I'll be alright, one night without a proper dinner isn't going to kill me."

"I wish we could come help more around here, I hate seeing you so tired." IV chimes in, dropping an armful of snacks on the counter.

"I appreciate all your help, but I promise you, I'll be just fine." You respond with a reassuring smile. Neither of them seemed satisfied with your answer but they could tell you weren't in the mood to argue.

II sighs, "just promise me after you finish up here you'll go get some rest."

"You have my word." You chuckle. The two of them finish their shopping, idly chatting with you as you do some cleaning up. "Goodnight guys, get home safely." You wave as they head out.

"I better not come back here and see you exhausted tomorrow." II warns playfully.

"I'll try my best." He winks at you before pushing out the door. IV wishes you goodnight before joining his companion.

You collapsed on your couch with a groan once you finally made it upstairs. Despite how much you were trying to convince yourself you weren't hungry your growling stomach said otherwise. You lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, when suddenly the familiar rumble of a pick up truck pulls into the lot. You stood, walking over to the window and pushing the curtain aside. You saw IV fumbling with something in his passenger seat before kicking the door open. You met him at the back door, he froze when he saw you standing at the top of the landing with a smirk spread across your features. "I, uh, I brought some food." He offers bashfully.

"Come on up IV." You chuckle before heading back inside. IV steps into your apartment, eyeing you curiously.

"I'm sorry I showed up without an invitation." He apologizes. You smile, taking a couple steps closer to him.

"You're welcome here anytime." He breathes out a laugh as his eyes dart to the floor. You offer to take the food for him, setting up a spot for the both of you on your couch. "I am curious, how did you manage to get fast food without raising any suspicion?" You ask as you pop a fry in your mouth. IV chuckles in response, adjusting to sit more comfortably.

"It's a funny story actually, I pulled up at the drive through and the kid working there told me he liked my costume." You laugh.

"Really?" He nods. The thought of the Fall Festival popped into your mind; how you would love to bring the four of them because you know they would have a great time, how it would give them a chance to see the town for what it really was, and of course your little crush on the charming masked men didn't help either. "IV, do you think Vessel plans on ever going into town? You know, aside from you guys making supply runs under the cover of darkness." You joke.

"If I'm being completely honest, I don't know." He pulls his mask away from his face to take a sip of his drink. "I'm the newest of our little group so I can't give you the whole story, but from what I understand up until we reached here things weren't too great. There's a lot of people out there who want to get rid of us before they even have a chance to get to know us. We've been run out of town after town, sometimes through more… humane means… other times not so much. But, we have something good here, with the camp in the woods, with you." He pauses for a moment to smile at you. "That's something I want to try and hold onto for as long as I can."

You study him for a moment, "what if I tried to help?" You offer. "I could be the middleman for you. People in town know me, I grew up here, that has to mean something. I just… I don't want you to have to constantly be worried about someone being out to get you. I know that if they met you, if they got to know the people I know you are, they wouldn't be afraid anymore."

"I'm sure Vessel would be interested in hearing you out. Who knows, maybe you'll actually convince him." He chuckles. "Between you and me, if you bat those pretty little eyes at him, I'm sure you could convince him to do just about anything." He jokes as he shoots you a wink.

"I bet that line works on all the girls, huh?" You giggle, trying to shake off the heat that had settled in your cheeks.

"As long as it works on you I'm set." You playfully smack his arm. He nestles back into the couch cushions, letting out a soft groan as he stretches an arm over the back, the back of your neck buzzing as you feel his warmth seep into your skin.

"You're all a bunch of flirts." You smile at him.

"A bunch of flirts?" You roll your eyes at his mock annoyance. "It's not my fault that you're so captivatingly beautiful." You noticed that growing familiarity in your chest. The steady thrum of your heartbeat as you tried to hide your flustered state. IV leans in closer to you, his side pressed flush against your body. "Once I met you I understood what they were all fussing over." He chuckles before muttering, "the perfect being brought to us by Sleep." You turn to look at him, his hazy blue eyes coaxing you in deeper with every passing second.

"Who's… who's Sleep?" You whisper. IV tilts his head, a curious expression matching yours. The pieces must have clicked together because he returned to his usual smiling self a moment later.

"You'll find out soon, Vessel's probably waiting for the right time to explain." You accepted his explanation without a fuss. You trusted that if it was something you needed to know they would tell you. He glanced up at the clock, "I'm sorry to cut things short, love, but I should head back." You nod, standing and walking him over to the door.

"Thank you for bringing some food." You smile.

"Anytime." He responds with a wink. "Get some rest, alright? II will throw a fit." You both shared a laugh before IV reached out and pulled you into his arms. You froze at first, not fully comprehending that he had wrapped you in a hug. But, the moment realization set in your arms slipped around his torso. Neither of you were in a rush to let go, the two of you standing in a comfortable silence as IV held you close, gently swaying you from side to side.

"Goodnight, doll." His hand lingers in your hip, taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before slipping out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @herripinkle @thepoisonedchalice @themultiverseofmars @saturnhas82moons @wingsofeternitysstuff @creamwhxre @itsyagirl-snowflake @bookishpenguino @m0cha-bunny @coreofpleasure @madsthenightowl @dangerkitten1705 @rainy-darling @shad0wcast @amara-among-the-stars @venuswinnyix @dontpercieve-me-pls @ripleyswife @thepityscene @lipstick-and-lycanthropes @vmpirekiss @savaneafricaine @mustluvecho @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe (I think that's everyone, if I missed you or you would like to be added please let me know!!)

#sleep token fanfiction #iii sleep token #sleep token iii #vessel sleep token #sleep token vessel #iv sleep token #sleep token #sleep token iv #sleep token worship #sleep token x reader #vessel x reader #vessel

[frogchiro]

im a firm believer that slasher!graves is simply astonished when his cute lil darlin' flirted back for once, maybe it was as an awkward joke or maybe she got a random confident boost, but when it happened he was completely frozen in place, jaw on the floor and mind racing with all the things he would do to her.

to be fair her 'flirting' was probably being nice and starting a conversation for once, but his blood raced to his cock too quickly for his brain to process that that was technically, not proof that she wants to carry his children.

im going insane i need to be contained.

Yeah you're actually right😭

Like I said before, Slasher!Graves due to his massive ego has a tendency to come onto you in a very bold and overbearing way, thinks you squirming and not meeting his eye is adorable, you're like a little shy mouse and you're so flustered becuase you have a crush on him!! But in reality you're fighting for your life because while yes, Mr Graves is very handsome and you'd lie if you said you weren't even a little bit attracted to him, he's still incredibly insistent in his advances and it's all a little...too much.

So just imagine that he was out doing some errands, picking up a delivery for his ranch from the local market and you just so happen to be there too, browsing through the stalls and buying some fresh veggies, oh sweet girl if you were to marry him you'd never again spend a single penny on these things, he has it all already~

But then you notice his insistent stare and smile and wave to him, walking over and greeting Phil sweetly with that shy look in your eyes. Some would say that you're just polite, greeting the older man and asking him how he is and what's he's up to but to Philip?? Yea you're flirting with him. You came up to him and talked because you wanted to?? With that soft look in your eyes?? Yep you're definitely a tease and you're just playing hard to get, his little vixen, and speaking of hard I bet he got a little light headed by the speed his blood left him to go right down to his cock😭

Graves even had to move his hips around a little so the growing bulge isn't as obvious and winced at the tight, uncomfortable feeling in his full balls that he just wants to empty inside you :((

You just know that the moment he's back at his house he will go absolutely feral on the fleshlight he keeps in his bedside drawer, growling and almost yelling (because yes, I imagine his to be very loud in bed) when he cums deep inside the silicone pussy wishing that his swollen red tip was right up against your cervix, breeding you full with his baby :((

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #yes he's THAT guy #slasher!graves #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #philip graves

[helloalycia]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: after you step in to defend Jackie against one of her boyfriend's sleazy friends, you realise helping the popular girl and starting beef with a jock has its consequences.

warnings: mentions of sexual assault, minor violence and underage drinking.

author's note: i keep getting people asking about posting more jackie stuff so i’m happy to share yet another fic! it’s three parts and it’s the last thing for now that i’ve written for her, so i hope you all like it 🥰

I collapsed on the grass outside, breathing out with relief once the fresh night air cooled me down and the music from inside wasn't so loud anymore. How I'd let Van convince me to attend a house party was beyond me, but as my best friend, she usually got her way.

Tonight though, I may have gotten a little carried away and drank more than usual, feeling somewhat lightheaded and lazy. Drunk me wasn't so fun, so I'd come outside to cool off and catch myself, away from the compact house of some jock I didn't know.

As I relaxed, trying to tune out the few teens that were milling around the front lawn, I heard a commotion by the front door. Some couple were arguing, their voices familiar as they left the house and grew louder.

"–can't just check out other girls right in front of me!"

"I wasn't! God, you're overreacting, Jackie, you always do this!"

I sat upright, pushing my hair from my eyes as I glanced in the direction of Van's soccer teammate and the most popular girl in our grade, Jackie Taylor, arguing with her boyfriend, Jeff Sadecki.

The last thing I cared about was their relationship troubles, but they were so damn loud and I was suddenly entertained by their back and forth. From what I could gather in my drunken state, Jeff had been distracted by some girls, flirting with one of them, but didn't deem it flirting like Jackie did.

"–just forget it, we're over!" Jackie shouted at him, throwing her cup on the grass with frustration.

Jeff scoffed. "Whatever. I don't need this."

He returned to the house as Jackie clenched her jaw, still angry. She fumbled for a cigarette and lighter from her purse with irritation, her clumsy hands betraying how much she'd drank tonight too. Thoughtlessly watching, I saw one of Jeff's friends, Leroy something-or-the-other, trail out the house and approach her.

Not shouting like Jeff and Jackie had been a moment ago, the two of them were talking and I couldn't hear their conversation. Or rather Leroy was chatting up Jackie and she was visibly uncomfortable, attempting to step back. He began to get touchy though, his hands grabbing her arm, and whether it was a sense of female camaraderie or my absolutely stupid alcohol-soaked brain, I felt the need to intervene.

Dragging myself up off the grass, I stumbled over to them and fixed Leroy with a glare.

"She clearly doesn't want you here," I said in what I hoped wasn't a babble of English.

"Back off, bitch," Leroy sneered at me, before stepping closer to Jackie and letting his hand slip to her butt.

Jackie jumped at his unwanted touch, hazel eyes widened with panic, and without thinking, I made a swing at Leroy's face, fist connecting with his nose in a sickening crack.

A groan escaped my lips as I grasped my hand – what the fuck was his face made of?! – and then I realised what I did as he stumbled back, clutching his face. I saw a glimpse of blood, and then Jackie's widened eyes looked between us, and I knew I was fucked.

"You little bitch!" he shouted, before making a sloppy swing at my head, to which I thankfully still had the instinct to duck away from.

Not ready to finish this fight I definitely didn't mean to start, I shoved him back to buy time then grabbed Jackie's hand, telling her quickly, "Time to go!"

Thankfully she got the hint and I yanked her away, the two of us running as fast as we could. Leroy chased after us and I risked glancing over my shoulder, watching him trip over his own feet and buying us enough time to leg it down the street.

"Here," I said breathlessly, pulling Jackie down behind a car.

The two of us practically held our breath as we kneeled down, frozen in place. I didn't doubt that Leroy would kill me, and her by association, and I began to wonder how I'd even ended up in this situation.

Jackie risked glancing around the back of the car before sighing with relief. "He's not following us."

Mirroring her sigh, I turned around and sank to the ground fully, back against the car. She joined my side, both of us reeling from what happened. I glanced down at my hand, aware that it should be hurting but not quite registering the pain. It was distant, the alcohol fogging my mind.

"What the hell was that?" Jackie asked, reminding me she was there.

Dazed, I tilted my head and stared at the road. "That wasn't your boyfriend, was it? I can't remember."

She let out a breath before giggling. "No. That was my ex-boyfriend's idiot friend."

Making sense of it all again, I nodded. "Right. Yeah. What a dick."

"Yeah," she agreed.

Feeling hot and a little dizzy, I tried to focus on the present and looked over at her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, her curled blonde hair bouncing as she did. "Yeah. Thanks to you." Hazel eyes flickered to mine in gratitude, and I could only shrug in response.

A silence fell upon us for a moment, and I suddenly became aware of how this was probably the most I'd ever spoken to Jackie Taylor in my life. We'd been in the same class since we were kids, and despite her being on the same soccer team as Van, there had never been need for us to converse. Until now, I guess.

"I feel sick," she suddenly said, and I noticed her face was a little pale.

"Then throw up," I said tiredly.

She scrunched her face with disgust, shaking her head. I shrugged, not caring, and then she leaned to the left and threw up a little. I pulled a face as she straightened up lazily, wiping her mouth.

"I've gotta go home," she said.

I checked my watch, but it did nothing to help because the hands were moving in all sorts of directions. "Same. I think."

She began to snicker, glancing sideways at me. "Leroy just might kill you."

A little delusional and finding her amusement contagious, I began to laugh. Leroy probably would, but right now, I couldn't care less.

She lifted a finger in the air with realisation. "Shauna," she exclaimed. "She'll drive."

"I can't leave Van," I remembered, as she stood up and yanked me up with her.

"I'll go get her," she promised, already tugging me back to the house, where Shauna's car was parked out front. "Don't move."

I saluted clumsily, waiting by Shauna's car and almost falling asleep against the door as Jackie seemed to take years to return. Finally, her, Van and Shauna all came back, Van shooting me an amused glance as she helped me off the door.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked with a stifled laugh. "Jackie said you punched Leroy?"

I waved a dismissive hand. "Barely."

She definitely wanted to know more but thankfully kept quiet as she helped me into the backseat, sliding in beside me.

"You two are gonna regret this in the morning," Shauna was saying from the driver's seat, but it went in one ear and out the other.

I vaguely remembered Shauna dropping me off home and Van helping me into my bedroom later that evening before passing out.

The next morning, my hangover hit me hard, but not harder than the pain from my broken knuckle. After waking up with a purple right hand, terrible memories from the night before reminded me of what I'd done, and after accepting that Leroy was going to kill me at some point, I went to the hospital with my mum who didn't seem to believe I'd punched a wall whilst drunk. Still, leaving with a splint and cast on my hand was worth it if it meant stopping some jerk from getting handsy.

School on the following Monday was definitely something to dread, mainly because I wasn't sure what would happen. Of course, after getting some stares off other students – word had undoubtedly spread about the incident – I stopped by my locker and was mildly surprised to see the word 'BITCH' scribbled in permanent marker pen across it.

"Lovely," I said sarcastically, before ignoring it, not wanting to give bystanders a show.

I opened it as usual and put my skateboard inside, mindful of my hand, when I felt someone bump into me from behind on purpose. I clenched my jaw when I turned and saw it was Leroy walking past, a bandage across his nose.

"Bitch," he muttered with bitterness.

"Yours truly." I returned his glare, before looking back to my locker.

If he was going to hate on me for stepping in as he sexually assaulted a girl, then let him. I'd never liked him anyway, the worst of Jeff's idiot friends. But hey, at least I'd broken his nose.

I'd like to say it ended there, but not even a moment later, his girlfriend whom I'd forgotten existed until she appeared by my side with a threatening glare, decided to defend his stupid arse.

"You better back off," she attempted to warn me. "I know it was you who broke his nose."

I quirked a brow with disbelief. "Do you know why?"

She scoffed. "Because you're a bitch."

I furrowed my brows, wondering if she was choosing to be this dense. "Tiffany, your arsehole boyfriend groped another girl."

She rolled her eyes. "Like I'd believe you."

I snorted with amusement. "Fine. Don't. I really don't care."

She stepped closer to me with narrowed eyes. "Stay the fuck away from us, bitch."

I rolled my eyes as she left, wondering how I'd managed to make so many enemies in the space of one night. Unfazed though, I continued to grab some books from my locker and ignored the looks I was getting from students with nothing better to do. This would all blow over in a few days, I just knew it.

When I closed my locker, I jumped, startled, when I saw Jackie stood behind it.

"Jesus," I said, clutching my chest. "A warning would be nice."

"Sorry," she said awkwardly, before her eyes fell to the cast on my hand and widened slightly. "Fuck."

"Hi to you too," I replied sarcastically.

She shook her head apologetically before meeting my gaze. "Friday night. That was... a lot."

I nodded, just as uncomfortable as she sounded. "Uh huh."

She pursed her lips, glancing at my graffiti'd locker. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. But I'm thankful for your help. You really showed him."

Not wanting her to feel bad, I tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, his brick head kind of broke my knuckle, but it was totally worth it."

She cracked a small smile, eyes flickering to my hand again. "Sorry."

I shrugged her apology off easily. "Seriously, Jackie, you don't need to say anything. Honestly, we were both drunk and I probably could have handled the situation better, but what's done is done. We're good."

She relaxed a little, nodding in agreement, though I couldn't tell if she was satisfied by my response. When she didn't say anything, I held my books to my chest awkwardly.

"So... see you in class," I said.

"Right," she agreed, and then we both turned to walk to class, only to fall into step with one another. "Same class," she mumbled when she noticed, and I tried not to laugh.

"Same class," I agreed, and a silence fell between us as we reached the classroom.

After exchanging a final glance, we split off to our seats, her joining Shauna's side as I found my usual spot next to Van. When she spotted me, she was already laughing at the sight of my bandaged hand.

"I can't believe you punched him," she said instantly, making me roll my eyes.

"Glad this is funny to you," I said playfully, giving her a disapproving look.

She continued to tease me. "I leave you alone for five minutes, Y/N! God, I wish I could've seen it. Everybody's talking about it. Apparently you broke Leroy's nose."

"Something like that," I mumbled as she laughed with amazement.

She continued to ramble about what people had been saying, enjoying how awkward I was at the attention, and I let my eyes wander around the classroom as I tried to tune her out. They subconsciously drifted to Jackie, who was listening to something Shauna was saying to her, and then she glanced at me and I quickly looked away, embarrassed I'd been caught.

—

I was relieved to see that the graffiti on my locker had been scrubbed off (terribly, but I wasn't complaining) by the cleaners last night, as when I showed up to school the next morning, it was gone. My headphones were on as I replaced my books for the morning, mindlessly getting ready for homeroom.

There was nothing out of the ordinary as I did, my eyes glancing around casually, and then I saw Jackie a little ways down the hall, leaning against the lockers with her apparently-not-so-ex-boyfriend, Jeff. I couldn't care less, but she must have felt my eyes as she awkwardly made eye contact, smile fading slightly, and I looked away. Whether she was back with Jeff or not wasn't my business – she was barely a friend, let alone someone whose relationship I cared for – but it felt strange knowing she would choose to go back to him after everything that had happened.

Once I'd grabbed my books, I pulled my headphones off and stuffed them and my walkman into my backpack. I was forced to walk past a flirtatious Jackie and Jeff, eyes trained ahead, and tried not to think much more on it as I went to homeroom.

I settled at my desk, flicking through my English book when I saw Van wasn't here yet, and began to look over my homework a final time before next period. In my own world, I was startled when someone appeared at my desk, looking up to see Jackie stood there.

"Er... hi?" I greeted with a quirked brow.

She swallowed awkwardly, looking uncomfortable. "What you saw just then, with Jeff and I..."

When she didn't continue, I pressed, "What?"

"It's not like it seems," she finished, cheeks tinged pink.

I wasn't sure why she felt the need to explain herself to me of all people, but I answered, "What, that you're back together?"

She pressed her lips together, nodding slightly.

Tilting my head and playing along, I asked, "Well, are you?"

She cleared her throat. "Well, yeah, but–"

"Cool," I cut her off, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "It's none of my business."

She scoffed slightly. "Yeah, but you're gonna think I'm being stupid after everything that happened–"

Growing tired of this conversation, I said, "Being stupid? You think I think it's stupid that your boyfriend was flirting with other girls and then his friend sexually assaulted you and you're still going back to him?" I tutted sarcastically. "Nah, not stupid at all."

She tensed her jaw slightly, clutching her books to her chest. "It's not like that."

I raised my eyebrows. "Then why are you telling me? You've never cared what I thought before."

She let out a low groan, having no reply, and simply walked away to her seat. Okay, so maybe I was being a little harsh, but it was just odd that she suddenly cared what I thought. And yes, I was judging her terrible life choices, but it wasn't my business.

It didn't matter anyway. I wasn't expecting this to be much of a problem now that she'd (terribly) explained herself to me.

—

Maybe I underestimated how long jocks could hold grudges for, or maybe I was just stupid for not knowing Leroy would never let things go. All I knew was that my one punch was never letting me live it down, nor letting me go back to being just acquaintances with Jackie Taylor.

About a week after Jackie felt the need to explain her getting back together with Jeff, I was skateboarding home from school like I always did. The crossing on the road was clear, so I started to ride across, headphones on my head as I did. I saw a car in my peripheral vision, but it was further down the road and they could obviously see me, so I thought nothing of it.

That was until it suddenly beeped and stopped right next to me, scaring the shit out of me and making my foot catch the ground, my skateboard slipping out from under me. Heart racing in my chest, I pulled my headphones from my head and sat up, just in time to hear a voice I definitely didn't want to.

"Watch out, loser!"

I looked to my left to see Jeff and Leroy laughing in Jeff's car, impressed with themselves and their ability to startle me. But the real frustration kicked in when I saw Jackie sat in the passenger's seat, flushed red with embarrassment and guilt as she glanced at me. Why was I not surprised?

Clenching my jaw, I stood up and ignored their laughter, instead grabbing my skateboard and finishing crossing the road. They beeped again as they drove off, but I didn't bother sparing them a glance.

My opinion on Jackie Taylor up until this point was practically nonexistent. In my eyes, she was just some popular girl in school who was nice enough to everyone, kind to my best friend who happened to be on the same soccer team as her, and that was it. We rarely crossed paths or spoke, and I'd never thought about her other than if she was right in front of me.

Now, however, she seemed to be in my life a lot more because of one stupid night, and I found my opinion of her worsening as I judged her poor choice of boyfriend and those she surrounded herself with.

The next day at school, almost to my amusement if I wasn't so irritated by everything that had happened, Jackie found me in homeroom at my desk again. I had a strong sense of deja vu as she hovered before me, uncharacteristically nervous.

"Hey," she spoke first.

I blinked, expressionless, definitely not in the mood for this. "Hi."

It took her a moment to find her words, in which I was growing a little more annoyed by her apparent innocence.

"Yesterday...," she started, "I didn't mean for–"

"What?" I interrupted. "Your jackass boyfriend and his jackass friend to act like jackasses?"

She sighed. "Yeah."

Was she always this irritating? I couldn't remember anymore.

"It's cool, Jackie," I decided to end the conversation, afraid I'd say something I'd regret. "I didn't expect anything less from tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber."

I looked back down to my notebook, hoping she'd leave and we could be done with our lives, but she felt the need to keep going.

"He's not always like that," she said gently. "I swear, he–"

"Did you come here just to defend him?" I asked with surprise. "Because I don't wanna hear it."

She frowned, irritable. "No, I just– I wanted you to know that."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Great apology. Thanks."

Clenching her jaw slightly, she said, "If you gave me a chance to speak, I'd say it."

"Whatever," I mumbled, rolling my eyes and returning my attention to my book.

She huffed with disapproval, making me glance at her with a slight glare. Her playing innocent game was getting old.

"FYI, if you're dating a jackass, that kinda makes you one too," I reminded her when she didn't leave.

She returned my glare before turning on her heel and leaving for her desk. Van soon showed up, taking her seat beside me but noticing the blonde leaving.

"Jackie still on you about your hand?" she asked with amusement. "I keep telling her to get over it, that you're okay. But she feels bad."

I rolled my eyes at the mention of her. "Can't feel that bad if she's still hanging around with douche one and douche two."

Taken aback, Van gave me a look. "Woah, who shit in your cereal this morning?"

I shook my head dismissively, releasing a breath. "Sorry. Nothing. Just tired, I guess."

She clearly didn't believe me, and when I looked up at her, I saw her glancing over to where Jackie was sat, but I refused to look that way. Van smiled in that direction though, greeting her teammate, before giving me a confused look.

"Did you guys fight or something? She looks like you kicked her dog."

"No," I said with mild irritation, before facing forward. "Can we drop this?"

Van chuckled quietly. "Sure, weirdo."

—

Later that day, I was staring out the window in Chemistry class whilst I waited for other students to make their way in and for class to start. When I felt a presence beside me, I assumed it was my lab partner, Dennis, and straightened up to greet him with a smile, but then I saw it was Jackie placing her bag on the desk and pulling out the stool.

"The hell are you doing?" I asked with furrowed brows, watching as she got comfortable. "Dennis sits there."

"Not today he doesn't," she said knowingly, before waving a hand to Dennis who waved some cash in the air with gratitude.

I dropped my jaw with disbelief. "You paid him?"

She turned to face me, her honey-coloured eyes meeting mine guiltily. "I want to say sorry for real. The only reason you're getting all this aggression from Leroy is because you stuck up for me."

I gave her a sarky look. "Kind of, yeah."

She sighed, rolling her shoulders back. "Well, I'm sorry. I didn't even want Leroy there yesterday, but he needed a ride home and Jeff said yeah. It's no excuse though."

I pressed my lips together, eyes studying her straight face curiously. There was a hint of sincerity somewhere there, and maybe finally putting this to bed would bring things back to normal. But then a smile grew on her lips and any chance of forgiving her went out the window.

"This doesn't make me a jackass now, does it?"

I lifted my brows with disbelief, her pride frustrating me. "Wow. Is that what this is about?"

She shook her head. "No. Of course not. But you should know that I'm not like that."

"Is the only reason you're apologising to change the way I view you?"

Again, she shook her head nonchalantly, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Maybe she was nice on the surface, but Jackie Taylor didn't seem genuine in the slightest.

"You know what? Fuck this," I told her, beginning to pack my books away. "I don't need to forgive you and I don't need your fake apologies or games. Just leave me alone. Things were a lot easier before I decided to be nice to you."

She watched me gather my things with bewilderment. "That's not fair."

I stood up and shot her an impatient look. "Whatever. You stick to your delusional princess land with your dick boyfriend and his friends and I'll stick to being a loser. Sound good?"

Her mouth opened with surprise, both offended and taken aback. "Y/N, just– where are you going?"

"To find my actual lab partner," I snapped, before moving past her to find Dennis.

I was beginning to think breaking my knuckle wasn't worth it. Getting involved with Jackie only seemed to bring me misfortune.

—

A few days passed with Jackie finally seeming to leave me alone. Don't get me wrong, I would occasionally catch her eyes in the hallway or in class, or sometimes she'd need to chat to Van about something and I'd awkwardly wait for her to finish before she'd leave, but she seemed to give up on bothering me with her half arsed apologies.

As for Leroy and his girlfriend, they clearly still held some sort of grudge for me, shooting me glares whenever they saw me. It got to a point where they seriously needed to get over themselves, though I guess that was hard when Leroy's broken nose was a constant reminder that he got decked in the face by a girl.

I was walking down the hallway when I resisted the urge to roll my eyes upon seeing Leroy and Tiffany walking in the opposite direction. I purposely avoided their gaze, not wanting to get into a confrontation with them, but Leroy purposely bumped into my shoulder with force, making me drop my books, and that was my last straw.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I exclaimed, before picking up my books.

"What did you just say?" Leroy stopped, turning around to fix me with a glare.

I clenched my jaw as I returned it twice as hostile. "You really need to grow up. Your big rock of a head is still in tact, so what's your problem? You think you'd get over this by now."

He looked like he wanted to punch me, but Tiffany stepped forward instead.

"Watch your mouth, bitch," she hissed, making me groan loudly with disbelief.

"He literally harassed another girl, and probably others too!" I reminded her. "Are you insane?!"

"Don't listen to her," Leroy said to her coolly. "She's just jealous."

"I know, baby, I know."

I laughed bitterly, looking between them like they were the world's strangest exhibit. Bystanders were starting to look at the three of us now, probably expecting a fight, but I seriously didn't care.

"You need to get a life and stay out of ours, loser," Leroy threatened me, fist clenching by his side.

"How fucking ironic," I said, shaking my head. "You're the one who won't get over yourself."

"You keep running that mouth of yours and I'll give you a broken nose," Tiffany attempted to threaten me, stepping forward, but she wasn't intimidating in the slightest. "You deserve it after hurting him."

I snorted with amusement. "I would love to see you try." When she squeezed her fists by her side, I glanced at her stupid boyfriend. "What? Can't fight your own battles, big man?"

Steam was practically leaving their ears as they glowered at me, and then the next events happened too quickly for me to make sense of.

Jackie came out of nowhere and stepped between Tiffany and I, saying, "Okay, how about we just–"

But Tiffany punched forward, aiming for me but Jackie got in the way at the same time and Tiffany's fist landed on her face. My eyes widened as Jackie stumbled back into me, clutching her nose, and both Tiffany and Leroy watched on with wide eyes.

"What the fuck?!" I shouted, before holding Jackie upright as I went to look over her face. When I moved her hand away slightly, there was blood streaming from her nose and I couldn't help but exclaim, "Oh my god!"

"What the hell, Jackie!" Tiffany cried out, holding her hand with pain.

"Are you kidding right now?!" Jackie retorted before wincing and holding her nose again, head tilted up to stop the bleeding.

"Okay, everyone move aside!" a teacher pushed through the crowd of entertained students surrounding us. When she spotted Jackie's bleeding nose, she said, "Miss Taylor, you need to go to the nurse's office–"

"I'll take her," I said quickly, before fixing Tiffany with a glare.

"You," the teacher continued, looking to Tiffany, "with me, now."

I didn't wait any longer to watch the death stares from Leroy and Tiffany, instead guiding Jackie to the nurse's office. I still couldn't believe she'd stepped in like that, and also that Tiffany had it in her to punch me. I didn't think she'd actually do it.

"Oh my god, it's running down my throat," Jackie whined with disgust, looking forward again. "I'm gonna be sick."

"Ssshhh, we're almost there," I cut her complaining off, though a large part of me felt extremely guilty.

When we reached the nurse's office, I immediately guided her to the bed to sit upright, whilst the nurse seemed to catch on and immediately jumped into action. I stood back and watched as the nurse gave her some gauze to hold to her nose.

"Is it broken?" Jackie asked with wet eyes, a little dramatically.

"No, dear, it's just a bloody nose," the nurse assured her, before glancing at me. "There's not much else I can do. Just keep changing the gauze and have her drink some water."

I nodded. "Will do. Thanks."

She offered a smile before heading to the other side of the room to finish helping out another student. I watched her leave before joining Jackie's bedside and looking to her with disbelief.

"What the fuck was that?!" I asked.

She moved the gauze so it wasn't blocking her mouth and motioned to her face. "I was trying to stop this from happening."

"A little fucking late," I said sarcastically.

"I figured," she snapped, before her face scrunched up with pain and she closed her eyes momentarily.

My jaw slowly relaxed as I really took the state of her in. The guilt pressed down on my chest – this wasn't her fight and she was certainly not the type of girl to get into one in the first place. Seeing her bloody nose and stained shirt was like seeing a puppy get kicked, and my irritation definitely wasn't helping.

"You shouldn't have got involved," I said with a sigh, sitting at the edge of her bed.

She opened her eyes, bright hazel ones swimming with guilt. "I just wanted to make things right. Show you that I really am sorry. It's not about how you view me and it's not a game. I'm just sorry."

Unlike the last time, she seemed genuine with her apology, and paired with her puppy dog eyes and bloody nose, it was hard for me not to give in.

"Fuck, fine, I forgive you," I breathed out.

She began to smile with relief before leaning back slightly. I frowned, eyes flickering over her guiltily, before I grabbed the spare gauze at her bedside and gently replaced the one in her hand.

"It looks like it's stopping," I said, disposing of the bloody gauze. "God, you're insane."

"It fucking hurts," she cursed, grimacing.

I tried not to smile as I wet a cloth in the bowl beside her bed. "It was barely a real punch. Tiffany's hand took most of the damage."

She narrowed her eyes at me as I began to wipe the dried-up blood from her nose and mouth with the wet cloth. "Tell that to my face."

A small smile of amusement broke out on my lips. "This was stupid, Jackie."

She sighed, removing the gauze so I could clean around her nostrils. "Probably."

The bridge of her nose was a little swollen and bright red, but at least the bleeding had stopped. God, as if Jackie Taylor got punched in the face for me. I literally never could have predicted that.

Once I cleaned her up, the nurse returned to give her some painkillers and an ice pack before making arrangements for her to be picked up from school.

"I'm sorry, I'd drive you home myself, but I don't have a car," I said with an apologetic smile.

She shook her head. "It's okay. You already stayed with me longer than you needed to. I'm just glad things are good between us again."

I exhaled softly, surprised that she cared this much. We were indifferent to one another, that was our thing. Whether it was because she felt she owed me after I broke my knuckle, or she was just trying to prove that she wasn't a bad person, I was left wondering why she was going through all this effort for a friendship that barely existed.

After she went home, it was easy to say that word of the fiasco spread around school like wildfire. Tiffany had been given a month of detention apparently, and I didn't see Leroy for the rest of the day, thankfully. Van found me after school, the two of us planning to walk home together, and that was where I debriefed her about everything that happened.

"Holy shit, what I would pay to see Jackie get decked in the face!" she exclaimed with a grin.

I quirked a brow. "Aren't you literally teammates?"

"Not in a mean way," she added quickly. "Like, it would still be funny though. Funnier if it was you, of course."

I shoved her in the arm with my good hand as she chuckled.

"I feel bad enough as it is, so no jokes," I warned her.

"Hey, it's not your fault," she assured me with a knowing look, before pausing and adding, "Though if someone says they're gonna punch you in the face, you probably shouldn't tell them you'd love to see them try."

I tried not to laugh as I shot her a look. "How was I supposed to know she'd actually do it?"

Van began to laugh again. "God, I wish I was there."

"You've only said a million times," I said with a disapproving stare, though a smile tugged at my lips.

Despite the jokes Van wouldn't stop making on the walk home, I still felt extremely guilty and couldn't stop thinking about poor Jackie. How our lives had become so intertwined in the space of two weeks was beyond me, but I suddenly felt responsible for her.

The next day at school, I saw her by her locker with Shauna before homeroom. Even from a distance, I could make out the slight swelling on her nose and it only deepened the guilt I felt. We'd technically resolved everything between us yesterday, but I felt the need to go over there and check on her to see how she was doing.

After dropping some stuff off at my locker, I went over to her and Shauna with a small smile. They noticed me and their conversation ceased, the two of them returning my smile with their own.

"Hey," Shauna greeted first.

I nodded her way before my eyes settled on Jackie, and Shauna seemed to get the hint as she politely dismissed herself, leaving us alone.

"Hey," Jackie greeted warmly.

"Hi," I said, eyes scanning her face. "How's the–?" I gestured to my own nose as I asked.

"Hurts," she admitted with a small smile, "but I covered the bruising. It's still a little swollen, but it'll be fine."

I frowned guiltily when I noticed the extra makeup she'd used to cover the red-purple bruise that had formed on the bridge of her nose. She'd done a good job, but it was still peeking through a little bit.

"It's okay," she said when she noticed my expression, before lightheartedly nodding to my bandaged hand. "Consider us even."

That didn't make me feel better at all, and I shook my head. "It shouldn't have happened. As Van kindly pointed out to me, I egged Tiffany on and she was supposed to punch me. It's not the same thing as me stepping in to defend you."

Jackie rolled her eyes playfully. "It's okay, Y/N, really. Besides, maybe her and Leroy will finally back off now."

I hummed, partially agreeing, though I knew this was still my fault.

"By the way," she added, "I broke up with Jeff."

At this, I raised my eyebrows with surprise. "What?"

Her lips pressed together into a faint smile as she looked down. "Yeah, you were right about what you said. He and his friends are jackasses. And I can do a lot better."

I wasn't sure what to say at first, not expecting her to have actually listened to what I said. But then I nodded slightly, acknowledging her words.

"You can," I found myself saying. "Do a lot better, I mean."

She breathed out with amusement. "Thanks... anyway, I should get my things, but see you in class."

"Yeah, see you," I said, still a little shocked, but nodding nonetheless.

#jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor imagine #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor #yellowjackets imagine #yellowjackets #ella purnell

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (11/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The dinner is in full swing. And friends sharing a dessert is pretty normal - right?

Warnings: FLIRTING, PINING (you've been warned!), Charles is sweet, a bit of angst (at the end, beware)

Word Count: 3.5k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: if my story is tooooo slow burn, feel free to tell me! feedback is appreciated! love ya.

According to Google, cold water on the wrists helps against heat, because the blood circulating in the body is cooled there quickly and thus the body temperature should drop. 

So why the hell are you getting hotter?

About five minutes ago, you fled the table after Charles sat down next to you and your brain stopped working and before you could sweat through your clothes. Charles had looked at you with a concerned look after he made room for you to get up from the bench, but you had just smiled at him kindly and once the table was out of sight you were able to take a decent breath. 

About four minutes ago you were frantically googling for a way to get rid of the heat Charles was causing inside you, and since you don't have lukewarm showers here at the restaurant, nor do you have any essential oils with you, the only solution was cold water on your wrists. 

And for about three minutes you've been standing here, letting water run over your skin, and as long as you don't have to think about Charles and his touch, your body seems to cool down as well. But how could you not think about him when he is all your thoughts revolve around?

How silky his hair must be? Or how soft his skin? Or how gentle his touch? 

You lean your forehead against the cold tiles on the wall, though you would have preferred to bang your head against them. 

You can't think that way about Charles. About your roommate. Your friend. And especially not after two days together. You two don't even really know each other. So why can't your thoughts stop spinning around him?

Before you can actually bang your skull against the wall, the door to the ladies' room opens. 

"Are you okay?" asks Kika, leaning against the wall opposite you. She glances at your hands, which you're still holding under running water, and then looks at you with raised brows. 

You clear your throat before turning off the water and reaching for a paper towel to dry yourself off. "I'm fine."

Your new friend reaches out her hand, and you hand her the paper so she can toss it into the trash can beside her. "You can talk to me, Y/N. You know that, right? There is nothing you confide in me that I would ever tell anyone." When you raise an eyebrow, she nods slightly. "Not even Pierre."

You lick your tongue over your teeth once. "I appreciate that. Thank you."

Kika smiles. "I mean it. You can call any time of the day or night. I promise I'll always be there for you. Even if we've only known each other for a short time."

"I'll keep that in mind." You move toward the door. "But then don't complain if I really do call in the middle of the night and wake you up."

She pushes off the wall and puts an arm around your shoulder. "As long as you don't make me get up at six in the morning, this is going to be a super friendship." She gives you a quick squeeze before dropping her arm. "You ready?"

Together, you walk back to the table, where the guys have their noses stuck in the menus. Charles is still sitting in the seat next to yours, a fresh beer in front of him, and as you girls approach the table, he looks up. His look is more unsettled than concerned as he gets up so you two can sit down again. This time, however, he leaves some space between you, for which you are very grateful. 

"Is everything okay?" he asks quietly, so that only you can understand him. 

You nod. "Everything's fine." Seeing that he doesn't believe you, you come clean. Well, part of the truth. "I was just a little warm. It's okay, I promise."

He seems to buy that a little bit more, because he slides the menu on the table so you can both look at it. "We were going to order dessert before we leave. Would you like some?"

You take a look at the map and have to concentrate on every single letter so that you can ignore Charles' gaze on you. But that's easier said than done, because out of the corner of your eye you can see how his gaze drifts from your eyes, over your nose and further down, before he licks his lips and also turns back to the card. 

You think you read something about tiramisu somewhere on the menu, which is why you suggest just that. When you find it, you put your finger on the card. "This." Your finger follows the letters and finally gets stuck on the price, which is pretty high for a dessert. You draw air through your teeth. "Or maybe not."

Charles leans back and runs a hand through his hair once. "The tiramisu is actually meant for two people." He points to the heading above some of the dessert offerings. "Look. Dessert pour deux."

And indeed. The dessert menu is divided into individual servings of ice cream, panna cotta and chocolate souflée, and desserts for two like a moist slice of chocolate cake and dumplings filled with pureed fruit. And tiramisu. 

"Then I'll have something else," you answer him, but before you can say anything, Charles leans forward. 

"If you want, we can share the tiramisu." His voice is low, but deep. 

You don't even dare look at his face, because then you'd have to disappear right back to the bathroom to cool off. How can the suggestion of sharing a dessert sound so seductive? And why doesn't your heart realize that it doesn't have to beat so fast because of it? After all, friends can share dessert without ulterior motives. Or longing. Or anything else. 

You smile at him. "I'd love to.""

When the waitress comes back to the table to take orders, Charles orders the tiramisu with two spoons. As she disappears, he turns back to you. 

"So, what do you think of my friends?" he asks, taking a sip of his beer, which you only now see is non-alcoholic. 

"They're all pretty awful. Hardly bearable," you answer him. He almost chokes on his drink as he lets out a snort. "How can you be friends with them?"

He puts the bottle back on the table. "Good question. They were just there at some point and I guess I missed the time when I could have gotten rid of them. I guess it's just too late now."

"If you want to get rid of us," Kika straddles the conversation, "all you have to do is say so." She scoots closer to you and reaches for your hand to intertwine your fingers. "But you do realize that we're definitely keeping Y/N."

"Ouch." Charles spins on the bench and puts his knee on the cushion, mere inches from your thigh. "So you already like her better than me?" His gaze shifts to you. "Nothing against you, of course. You know how much I like you."

You don't have a second to think about his words before Kika pulls you against her so that your back is against her front. "But of course! We're both going to be best friends eventually! Besides, you can't tell me she didn't immediately captivate you too with her beautiful smile and charm."

You lightly slap Kika's forearm and try to squirm out of her embrace, but she won't let go. Which is why you can only look straight ahead, directly at Charles, whose gaze is gentle and loving. Dimples bore into his cheeks as he smiles. "She did."

Kika lets go of you and you turn to her briefly, giving her an evil look that's meant to express "What was that all about?" as several waiters come to the table and place various plates and bowls with all variations of desserts in front of you. Charles puts a spoon down for you and places the plate with the huge piece of tiramisu between you so that you can both eat from it comfortably.

He smiles at you and points his own spoon at the dessert. "Ladies first."

Gratefully, you smile at him before using the spoon to cut off a piece and shove it into your mouth. On your tongue, the tiramisu seems to explode and your eyes roll back and you can muster just enough strength to keep from moaning out in pleasure. In all your life, you've never eaten dessert so delicious. 

"That good?" asks Charles, who also slips a piece between his lips. A bit of cream sticks to the corner of his mouth and as he licks it away with his tongue, you have to swallow. 

"It's perfect," you reply, taking another bite so you don't have to look at Charles. 

"Don't be in such a hurry," Charles says, pressing his spoon down on yours as you go to take a third piece so you can't move it. "I thought we were sharing the tiramisu."

You jiggle your spoon a little to pull it out from under his, then point it at him. "You're already using my brush. I think I should get a bigger piece of this." You're about to dig the spoon back into the dessert when Charles pulls the plate away. "Hey!"

"So that's how we play, huh?" You can't even react as quickly as he's shoveling in the tiramisu. One bite after another, he pops it into his mouth before you can lean over and grab the plate to pull it away. As he goes to take another piece, you swat his spoon away with yours. 

"You've already eaten half!" you scold him affectionately. "Leave some for me, too, you glutton!"

"First come, first served," he responds, already holding out his spoon, but you grab the plate and turn your back to Charles so he'd have to reach around you to get to dessert. That way you would still be able to take a few bites in peace without having to fight for it, because for sure Charles wouldn't come that close to you for dessert. 

You feel the heat even before you can follow through with your plan. 

Charles moves close to you so he can snake his arm around you. His chest presses against your back as he leans in to look over your shoulder, so he can just find the tiramisu he's so desperate for. His hot breath is on your ear, on your neck, and you're glad there's a sweater and blouse between you, because if you were touching - really touching - you'd have a heart attack, you're sure of it. 

"Come on, just a little bit more," he breathes. 

Your body freezes and you tear your eyes open as if you've seen a ghost. Your grip on the plate tightens, your fingers almost clench around the china, and Charles's scent in your nose fogs your brain. 

Why does Charles have such an effect on you?

"Stop it," Kika intervenes, taking the plate from your hand. "You're arguing like an old married couple." 

"We're not," counters Charles, who now also snakes his second arm around you to get at the plate Kika has placed in front of him. But it's a little too short, so he slides a little closer to you. "If we were fighting properly, this would definitely end differently." His fingers get a grip on the edge of the plate, and you're too frozen to do anything about it. He moves away from you, moving back to his seat and shoving two more bites between his jaws before pushing the rest in your direction. "I'm willing to share with you."

Kika nudges you, bringing you out of your stupor. You turn to face him. "And what do you want in return?"

Charles smiles at you. "Just your friendship."

You return his smile, not even noticing the slight twinge in your chest. "Deal."

"This is where deals are made?" asks Lando as he sits down in the empty seat in front of you - Charles' old seat. "How much money are we talking about?"

"It's not about money," Charles replies, his tone sounding somehow cold, very different from just a few moments ago. 

You nod in agreement. "It's about something much more important." You point to the last bite of tiramisu in front of you, "It's about tiramisu."

Lando's gaze moves from your face to the dessert, then back to you. "That's actually very important. I know a pâtisserie in Nice that serves the best tiramisu in the whole world. Maybe we can go there together sometime?"

Before you can answer, the waitress comes to the table with the bill. As you are about to pay, Charles gives you a scowl. "I invited you, so I'm paying for you."

You roll your eyes. "You don't have to pay for me."

"I'd like to, though. I owe you that, as badly as I treated you today."

Since you can't argue with him on that, you let it happen and when all the bills are paid, the small group stands outside the restaurant. The wind has gotten even colder and inside you are scolding yourself for not taking a thick jacket. You blame it on Charles and his mood swings. 

As you wrap your arms around yourself to get a little warmer, Charles hands you his jacket. "My sweater is thick. And I don't get cold easily."

Hesitantly, you slip the jacket on and are immediately enveloped by his scent. The fabric is heavy but feels comfortable on you and you have to suppress the urge to smell it. You feel warm and would like to snuggle into the jacket. You stifle a yawn and smile at him. "Thanks."

"So," Pierre props an arm on Kika's shoulder. "What club do we want to go to now?"

"The Jimmy'z is about to open," Lando suggests, looking at his wristwatch. "Or La Rascasse. There's supposed to be a cool DJ there today."

The clubs tell you something, but from stories you know how expensive the drinks are there. And since you don't want Charles to pay for you all night and you can't afford Monaco's nightlife, your evening is declared over, for better or worse. 

Kika raises her hands. "I'm afraid I have to get up early tomorrow, which is why it's time for me to go to bed."

You're glad she's the first to get out. "I'm pretty tired. So I'm not in either," you fib, curling your lips into a thin, apologetic smile. 

Charles head jerks in your direction. "Shall we go home then?" he offers. 

"It's fine, you go party," you reply, moving a little closer to him. "Your day has been pretty lousy. So go get drunk with your friends. But call if you want to be picked up. Then I'll come get you."

"Are you sure?" he asks, unsure. "I don't have to go with the others either."

You wave it off. "I'm sure." 

"Do you still want me to walk you to the car?" He hands you the car keys. "It's around the corner."

"I'll be fine, Charles," you smile, "I'm a big girl."

"I didn't doubt that," he assures you, but still seems undecided about whether to drive home with you or go with his friends. "Would you really be okay with me going?"

"If you ask me again, I'll punch you."

Charles smiles. "Will you let me know when you get home?"

"I will."

Charles seems satisfied with your answers, so he gives the boys a thumbs up. "Can I get a ride with you, Pierre?" When the latter nods, he turns to you. His smile is affectionate and gentle. "I'll see you at home."

The sentence sends warmth coursing through your body. "I'll see you at home."

Lando stands next to you, "My car is also around the corner. We can just walk the bit together," he offers and you nod gratefully before Kika wraps her arms around you. 

"Well, you have my number. You can get in touch if you like," she says, giving you a hug. "And if you don't, I'll be very mad at you." Her grin is wide and she pokes you in the side before returning to the other boys. "Don't be a stranger!"

"Don't worry, I won't," you reply, nodding goodbye to Pierre and Max before your gaze drifts to Charles. You raise your hand and wave at him, which he returns. Then you turn and start walking. Lando walks alongside you. 

"So, how about that tiramisu in Nice?" he asks, his hands buried in his pockets. 

You laugh out loud. "You're not letting up, are you?"

He shakes his head and grins. "No way. Unless you want me to, in which case I'd let it go, of course. I'm not a stalker, after all." He looks down at you. 

"Well, it wasn't on my shopping list," you retort, collecting a slight nudge in return. "What? It was meant to be nice!"

"You better believe it." 

You both turn the corner and your Renault enters your field of vision. "I've never been to Nice before. So for all I care, we can go there." 

"Great." He takes a deep breath. "Then wouldn't it be better if I had your phone number? Then we could set up a day to go there."

You raise an eyebrow. "You already have my Instagram, isn't that enough? Not that you'll actually turn into a stalker," you joke.

"Okay, wow." He grins. "If you don't want to, of course I can understand. After all, we've only known each other since today."

"It's all good, Lando. Don't worry about it," you reassure him, telling him your number so he can type it into his cell phone. Then he calls you so you have his number as well. 

"Thanks."

"No problem."

You come to a stop in front of your car, Lando looking at you confused. "Is this your car?" When you nod, he looks like a light's gone on. "I thought you guys came in the Ferrari. Had me wondering why he'd let someone else drive his Pista."

You try not to let the confusion show. "Um, no. We took mine." You unlock the car and open the door. "Thank you for a lovely evening and for walking me to my car."

He glances sideways for a moment. His jawline is so sharp it could certainly cut paper. "You're welcome." He wraps his arms around you and squeezes. "And about Nice, I'll text you." He breaks away from you and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. "Get home safe, okay?"

"I'll do my best," you smile and get in the car. As you drive off, you see Lando waving in your rearview mirror. 

You can't help but think of his statement. Charles has a Ferrari? Those cars must cost hundreds of thousands of euros. How can he afford such a thing? Do people in the car business really earn so much that they can just buy a Ferrari?

And why does he insist on driving your rickety old Renault when he apparently has a super car at his disposal? Is he hiding something from you? And if so, then what is it?

Suddenly you realize how little you actually know about him. But surely he will have reasons for not telling you - right? You decide not to push him to tell you about his car or his job, but to wait for him to tell you on his own. Friends don't push each other to do that. And you are patient enough to wait for him. 

Before you can think about it further, you turn onto the street where your apartment is and immediately slam on the brakes. 

Across the street, directly across from your apartment, is a green Nissan with a license plate you are very familiar with. Your hands start to sweat. What does he want here? How long has he been waiting for you? There doesn't seem to be anyone in the car. So where is he? 

You turn a little on the seat to get a better view of the street, but it is deserted. Not a soul is on the road, you are all alone. And for sure you're not stupid enough to go home now, where he's surely waiting for you. 

You grab your phone and dial a number. It beeps a few times before the person on the other end picks up. "Y/N? Are you okay?"

You bite your bottom lip and feel your heart pounding in your chest. "No," you answer, and your eyes dart around, trying to spot anything out there. To spot him. But you can't see anything. Which makes you feel even more anxious than you already are. 

"Nothing's okay."

next part

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando norris #max verstappen #f1 imagine

[love-toxin]

Leon looks so pissed off in that last gif and Luis looks ecstatic. Oh to be stuck between the two of them. Luis so fucking happy he gets to play with you as he thought you were adorable the first time he saw you but Leon pissed off that he's having to share you. Maybe you were the price for Luis' help.

ok im sorry but i have to go insane for like. at least a moment bc luis 🥺 my love 🥺

(cws: gn!reader, post-canon, re4 spoilers!!, confessions, flirting, a kissy kissy, canon divergence, some blood and injury, mild innuendos, a lil intimate touching & mutual pining. leon's bad with feelings.)

Luis is sooooooo happy go lucky about the whole thing but Leon couldn't be more pissed. you're his mission partner, his. so where the hell does this stupid Latin-hearthrob local get off on asking him to set you two up? the danger may have passed and Ashley may be safely loaded on to a helicopter and taken away, but does he really have no better way to spend the last evening you've got to waste here? he just has to bug him about trying to get in with you?

"come on, prince charming. didn't you say you would thank me for my help?" Luis teases, nudging him with his elbow as the two lounge side-by-side on one of the sofas in the palace's many sitting rooms. Hunnigan had pointed out that the castle would be the most fortified place for you three to wait out the evening, as another chopper wouldn't be available until the next morning. but despite it being comfortable, Leon's only got his mind on passing the time as quick as possible so he can get you away from Luis and nip that possibility of you two hooking up in the bud.

"pick something else." he huffs, arms crossed over his broad chest as he elbows Luis back even harder--and a smirk twinges at his lips when he hears the Spaniard groan and buckle in pain, his wounds still fresh from just barely escaping Saddler's attempt to get the "sample" back from him.

it was because of you that he even survived, you had shoved him out of the way and landed a hit on his attacker with your shotgun aimed right at his head. and even though it obviously hadn't killed him, and you'd suffered your own injuries as you were flung away and Saddler retreated, you still rushed to Luis first to stem the bleeding from his abdomen and whisper those soft, worried reassurances that he would be okay. you'd taken care of him, brought him back to life, soothed him and babied him and smiled when he managed to get to his feet--and Leon had hated every second of it because it was for someone else. what he wouldn't give to have you look at him that way, to croon over him and want to protect him and kiss his wounds better.

so duh, he's jealous, and that's why he's been so stubborn and childish over Luis' attempts to claim his prize. but even now, when all is said and done and he's finished what he started, he still can't get even that.

"Luis?" Leon's head perks up at the sound of your voice--your sweet, delicate voice wafting over as you step through the doorway. clearly you heard him whining in pain, your eyes say it all. they soften with your brow and you move briskly to crouch in front of your friend and rest your hands tenderly on his knees. "are you okay? is it hurting again?" damn that doting look you give Luis. he shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he tries not to think of you looking at him that way, in that same position, with his legs spread apart and you on your knees like that...

"only when I breathe, mi corazon." he laughs albeit defeatedly, and only now does Leon feel a little guilty for prodding some of those wounds. he definitely looks paler than he should, but it also hurts to see you so worried for him.

"oh, Luis--here, let's get you somewhere more comfortable, yeah? it'll be better for you to lay down anyways. Lee?"

he's so lost in the way your hands glide up Luis' legs to check on his bandages that he flinches when you call his name again, your expression questioning when he finally snaps back to reality until he utters a "huh?". and then you gesture for him to help you prop Luis up to take him into the bedroom next door, which he does for you begrudgingly and remedies only by dropping Luis just a little rougher than needed when he lifts him up on to the bed. it bites him in the same way as the Spaniard groans and you hurry to evaluate his pain, but at least now Luis looks a bit more pathetic laying back on the sheets--much like he's moments away from passing out cold. it's been a long day for all of you, after all, although he would be lying if he said he wouldn't be glad that it'd shut him up for five minutes.

it feels even longer when he watches you lean over him, and Luis' fingers trail up your hip to give your waist a playful squeeze--and when you two share a too-intimate smile at each other as you work on tightening his bandages, Leon's had more than enough. when you straighten up and turn to him to ask him to fetch something, the words don't even hit his ears because he's already leaning in. both hands come to rest just underneath your jaw and sit right below your ears, so the entire lower half of your face is dwarfed by him as his lips meet yours in a hot, wet flurry; one, another for good measure, and a third just grazing your bottom lip as you finally flinch at the sudden contact. a sound escapes you but whether it was his name, or a question, or just a sound, he doesn't know. because as soon as it's over, Leon's turning on his heel and leaving the room in a hurry to go get whatever it was you wanted. he'll just have to guess. something for Luis.

"my, my..." the man in question wonders aloud, a smug grin tweaking his lips as he watches Leon's back disappear from the doorway. "...finally got the courage, I see." he whispers devilishly under his breath.

"L-Lee? Lee! I...d-did I do something..? I didn't hurt his feelings, did I?" you whimper so sweetly, and Luis can't help but laugh even though it has him keeling over in a second, the pain in his chest bringing up a hacking cough that thankfully goes away quickly, and without any blood in his palm to boot.

"oh, mi amor, you're going to rot my teeth...don't worry your sweet heart, he's just got something on the mind." he shifts his position and looks up at you with a wink at the ready, but your unexpectedly sour expression staring back at him wilts that charm in no time at all.

"I hate it when you two act like you know something I don't." all that pouting you're doing now is just too adorable to resist though, especially since you're throwing yourself right back into securing his injuries yet again--perhaps, based on the concentration on your face, because you want to focus on figuring out the reason for why your coworker just did what he did. those warm cheeks and glimmery eyes speak for themselves, though. you must have enjoyed it, conflicting feelings and all.

"and--hngh--what if we do?"

"then just tell me!"

you huff, straightening out his clothes for the last time and gently dragging his shirt back down to cover his stomach. just when you reach his belt, however, Luis grabs your wrist in a tight grip and yanks you towards him--and when you squeak and collapse on top of him, your hands hitting either side of the pillow under his head while your knee rests on the edge of the mattress, that flustered face and those quickened breaths at your newfound closeness just melt any remaining hesitation from his heart. his thumb grazes your palm on the hand he's still got in his grasp, and with a smirk he slides it over yours to lace your fingers together while the other creeps up your neck.

you've got eyes on him alone, heart beating in your throat for him. the kiss he plants on your half-open mouth is warmer, sweeter, and deeper than the one you had from Leon--not better or worse, just enthusiastic in a different way. and his grin only grows wider when he breaks away and spots Leon standing there over your shoulder, watching with flushed cheeks and a vial clutched in his hands as he waits in the doorway. how polite of him, especially shutting the door so quietly as he slowly stalks up behind you both in your moment of heated, Spanish passion.

"...now, how's that for a confession, cariño?"

#luis sera #leon kennedy #luis sera x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader x luis #ot3 #resident evil #re4make #ellie writes #anons

[circinuus]

can you make dazai blush?

0.6k words. gn! reader

❥ inspired by this video, and here's my honest reaction; possibly ooc dazai

dazai, who is eloquent in his words and smooth in his gestures; a ladies' man with looks that are easy in the eyes and a voice pleasant to the ear.

dazai, who eyes you curiously when you first step into the agency, wet behind the ears, timid at kunikida's instructions and atsushi's reassuring words.

dazai, who finds the way you stumble your words very endearing, who finds the way the apples of your cheeks heat in crimson adorable whenever he reaches for your hand and starts a soliloquy about how you're just like a beautiful flower.

dazai, who pauses before waving a woeful hand when you return his grasp with a more secure and worried squeeze after he gives you an offer on a lover's suicide. your silent worry and reprimand do not cease even with kunikida's and atsushi's notions that such is just how the agency is.

dazai, who started looking forward to going to the agency every morning, wondering what expression you'll make today. will you bashfully scrunch up your nose if he compliments how your eyes sparkle like the evening tsurumi river that failed to drown him? or how your hands are as soft as the petals of a foxglove? will your eyebrows crease in frazzled concern if he eats that poisonous shroom again?

dazai, who frowns and is against the idea of you going for a fieldwork near yokohama port—more than he expected he will be.

dazai, whose face freezes and tongue paralyzed when you stop him after work one evening, in your arms is a bouquet of fresh blue hydrangeas. "thank you for being such a good senior," you said with heartfelt gratitude. dazai thinks of the possibility of you mistaking him for kunikida, or yosano, or atsushi, or other people from the agency. the possibility is unlikely.

dazai, who usually brushes off or basks in compliments that come his way, but is now stuck in perplexed blinks when you told him about how kind he is, the white stray cat still cradled in his arms and occasionally licking his cheek.

dazai, who is a suave man—accepting honmei chocolates here and there with practiced ease—only to pause in a hesitant, surprised, expression when you hand him a store-packaged box of chocolates. a giri chocolate, he realizes, before covering everything with his usual fanfare and tease.

dazai, who couldn't pinpoint his small exhale is out of relief or disappointment.

dazai, who now doesn't know what to do with you because he is scared of catching feelings, and you catching feelings for him.

dazai, whose, for the first time in forever, mind got thrown off balance and blood rushing to his cheeks when you absent-mindedly drop an innocent comment before the day ends, your eyes still solemnly set on the reports you devoutly type out.

‎

"i'm going to give my honmei chocolate and confess my love to you after work."

"eh?"

"are you free after work?"

"mm."

"be prepared then."

"okay."

"why is your face red?"

dazai, who now sits straight trails off a chuckle. his fingers subtly tighten on his complete suicide book as he raises it closer to his face.

"wasn't that basically a confession?"

and you, who are finally freed from the shackle of fatigued absentmindedness and gasp in morbid realization, face bursting to a million shades of rose.

"ah!"

"please forget i said that-"

this is basically the sunshine x the flirt turned to a mess--because of genuine affection. fic writers, i beg you to consider this concept: a blushing and flustered dazai, a thread 🤡

♡ @ashthemadwriter

#bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader

[flamingtouya]

𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 —

pairing: dabi + afab!reader

word count: 4471

cw: nsfw, smoking, alcohol, fingering, unprotected sex, pining, lots of flirting, dabi being a lovesick mess

summary: dabi doesn't know love. doesn't know tenderness. he doesn't dare seek it out, always denying himself the one thing he's afraid he won't be able to get enough of once he's had a taste. but you - oh, you - you're too intriguing to not get a little too close.

Silence is its own form of violence. 

Silence has a way of consuming Todoroki Touya’s heart and swallowing him whole. Silence, to him, is as loud as the infinite rage burning at the core of his heart, the one that hollows out the space between his ribs and leaves him bare. Even though he died years ago, silence is the one thing that eats away at his soul and spits it back up, exposing him to the rawness, the viciousness of his untamed emotions. It renders him unguarded. Naked. So utterly, laughably vulnerable. 

It only makes sense that Dabi likes to avoid silence. 

His skin prickles with anticipation and his palms light up, wicked euphoria pulling on every muscle in his body and making his heart pound up in his ears. “Y'know, I was in a good mood just now,” he snarls. "Piss off while you still can.”

The villain in front of him flexes his quirk, four muscular arms stretching wide enough to block the way out of the dead-end alley. Dabi tilts his head to the side at the pathetic intimidation attempt. Something about this particular group of lowlifes is rubbing him the wrong way - their obnoxious cockiness, sheer confidence in their numbers, the taunting stares, as if to say 'Pity, you got lost on our turf'. He's not quite sure. Doesn't know, doesn’t care. They want blood. He’ll give it to them. One of the men shouts a vile insult in his direction, but the venom dies in his throat the moment Dabi flashes his most deranged grin, all teeth and manic ecstasy. “Then die.”

Blue flames engulf the alley in an instant. Vicious and bloodthirsty, as though they're being driven by a murderous rage of their own, feeding on the meal that was gifted to them. Adrenaline explodes in Dabi’s stomach; His back muscles ache, staples tugging on the scarred flesh, limbs screaming in agony - it’s pure exhilaration. The men's gargling screams cease within seconds, bright heat retreating just as fast as it had appeared. One body hits the ground. Then another. And another. The gang leader's charred corpse drops mere inches from Dabi's feet. Dabi steps forward, making it a point to bury his boot in the spot where the villain's face used to be. 

"Stepped in shit."

He puts his hands in his pockets and walks away, as he'd done so often before. To any sane person, the sight of the bodies left behind would be as vomit-inducing as the accompanying stench of burnt flesh. But Dabi has gotten so terribly used to it, his nose doesn’t even itch. 

By the time he comes down from his high, the smoke begins to dissolve into the night sky and silence comes crashing down around him once again.

_________________________________________

Your figure is draped across the couch, face hidden behind the cover of a dusty novel. The room is quiet, save for the occasional turning of a page and the rhythmic tapping of your fingers against the book’s spine. Some of the cigarette cinder falls beside the tray and you flick it again, this time deliberately letting it fall onto the wanted poster below and watching as the ash slowly eats a hole into the crumpled paper.

Dabi barges in without so much as kicking his boots off. Before you can even properly take in how dishevelled he looks he’s made his way past you, not sparing you a glance, perhaps not even fully realising you're there. You don’t say anything, just furrow your eyebrows and stare at the fresh burn on the back of his neck as he rummages through the cupboard behind the bar.

It's too shallow to leave a scar. Probably. If it heals right. If he lets it heal right. He won't, though, won't even use the ointment that Toga had gotten him from the pharmacy, purchased with her own money (that she had stolen, but it's the thought that counts). Even Tomura called him stupid when he refused. Which Dabi definitely was when it came to self-preservation. Or lack thereof. So there sits the new patch of fresh red on his neck, waiting to dry out and join the sea of scars on his shoulders.

It takes you more effort to tear your eyes away than you’d like to admit. Suddenly, the small crinkle on the corner of page 106 is very interesting.

Dabi finally gets his fingers on some cheap Whiskey and raises the bottle to his lips without bothering to pour a glass. A waste, really. He gulps down three, four mouthfuls, seemingly unbothered by the streaks of liquid that seep through his teeth and trickle down onto his collarbone. Satisfied when his throat is burning with the same intensity as the scorched skin under his shirt, Dabi slams the bottle on the counter. He blinks six, seven times before the wooden texture under his fingers begins to blur. Soon enough he’s cooled down, the annoying buzzing in his head replaced by a soothing numbness. 

But the quiet around you is eating him alive. Still waters run deep, and Dabi wants to keep things shallow wherever he can. So he does something he’s never done before - something he thinks he’ll end up cursing himself for. 

He acknowledges your presence. 

"You read?" 

You glance up from the page, giving him a suspicious once-over before diving back into the safety of your book. "You speak?" 

Neither of you say anything for days afterward. 

____________________________

It’s you who breaks the silence next. 

“You’re filthy,” you comment when he returns at the crack of dawn. And you reek of burns. You don’t expect any kind of response. But Dabi is a man of many surprises, even as generous as to look your way when he retorts, “you’re nosy.” 

He’s clutching his elbow with one hand and opening the bar cupboard with the other. Glancing at the trail his boots leave on the floor, you wrinkle your nose and decide to push your luck. 

“Do you have to get blood on the carpet?” 

“Shut up.” 

“It’s disgusting enough as it is.” 

He lets you interpret his lack of a response as agreement, or maybe you’ve seen him like this often enough to know how loud his head is buzzing already.

By the next time he makes it back later than he should, the bottle of Whiskey is waiting for him on the counter. 

____________________________

He doesn’t notice. Not at first. How this is turning into a game of cat-and-mouse. You and Dabi dance around each other like fire would around gasoline, and it’s starting to irritate him. He finds himself removing his boots before plopping into the couch seat across from yours. Always irritated when you brush him off. Always amused that he can’t seem to get a rise out of you. 

“You’re smoking hot tonight, sweet cheeks.” He grins. “Spare me a cigarette?” 

You look up from whatever meaningless video is playing on your phone. He’s done this a few times before, calling you ‘sweetheart’ and ‘princess’ in that mocking tone of his. You don’t mind, because talking to Dabi is like talking to an NPC most of the time anyways and it at least shows he considers you someone worth name-calling. Instead of meeting his face, your eyes fall on the half-empty Whiskey he’s gripping a little too tightly. He frowns.

“If you hand me that bottle.” 

Dabi rolls his eyes. As if he’s ever going to consider such a trade. Maybe some part of him actually is. He doesn’t allow himself to think about it, lest he’s forced to admit that the alcohol does indeed taste bad. “Fuck you.” He sways the bottle in your direction. “But I’m down to share. Feeling generous tonight.” 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Don’t want to. Haven’t had alcohol in a while.”

“A shame. You should try it. Makes you give less of a fuck,” he says, and for a moment you’re taken aback by the honesty. That’s the thing about Dabi; All you ever get is fleeting glimpses of sincerity, a split second where his persona slips and he’s forced to feel something. You don’t acknowledge it out loud, taking the pieces as they come and even if some don’t fit quite right, you never pry. Dabi appreciates it, you think. As far as his appreciation goes, anyways. The man before you is a riddle that doesn’t want to be solved.

He’s back to himself in a heartbeat and you realise he’s looking at you, expecting an answer.

“But then I’d ignore you completely,” you nod in his direction. “And you wouldn’t have any fun trying to annoy me.”

He ponders for a moment and takes another swig. A hint of a triumphant smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you allow it to show when he’s not looking. 

____________________________

It creeps up on him, how aggravatingly familiar your presence is becoming. He hates the word, hates the implications of it. You’re not family. He’d like to think you’re far more annoying, if that’s even possible. 

So when he returns particularly early one night and you’re not in your usual spot on the couch, he’s… puzzled. There’s no book, no ashtray, no charger on the floor. No trace of you having been here tonight. In one of the drawers lie several burner phones - he fetches one and punches your number in. The exposed skin on his wrist protests at the friction.

> the fuck you at?

He’s about to go on a scavenging hunt behind the bar when the phone buzzes. 

> out

"No shit," Dabi scoffs. He debates whether or not he should leave it at that. His fingers make the decision for him, typing out a response before his head has fully caught up. 

> shit answer. try again

He wants to toss the phone away but his eyes are glued to the message that pops up immediately.

> watasecho bridge

Dabi frowns at your choice of a quiet spot. He's got an approximate idea of where you are. A few minutes later he's navigating through a narrow passage that leads to the platform below the railway bridge, where most of the lamps are either broken or have been smashed to bits. It's no less eerie than he remembers. Watasecho is where people go looking for trouble, after all.

He’d know. He's cremated a man here. 

Dabi sucks in his breath and turns the corner. Something whirls by him, coming dangerously close to slicing his ear and hitting concrete behind him with a graceless ‘clink’. 

His eyebrows go up in surprise but his posture remains relaxed, shoulders slouched, one hand in the pocket of his jacket and the other coming up to check for blood. "You missed." 

"If I wanted to impale your neck, I would've."

"I know, sweet cheeks. But unfortunately for you, I'm as un-impaled as ever." 

You huff at the snark in his tone. "Don't make me reconsider." 

“So mean. Even though I just got here.” Dabi takes his spot beside you, resting his elbows on the railing. The only lights around were the lamps from the highway below, illuminating your face in a way that made his stomach feel a little too light for his liking.

You shrug. “Figured you wouldn’t bother.”

"Please, I'm a bother. You should know," he says. Of all people, you should know. And you do.

You press the cigarette butt against the railing and stick another in your mouth.

“How so? Indulge me.” 

“If you give me that pack,” he mocks. It’s your turn to scoff, though you can’t deny that there’s a visible hint of a smile there, too. You pretend to contemplate for a moment. “No,” you muse. “I don’t think I will.” You hold the lighter close and flick it. Nothing happens. Try again. Nothing. 

The piece of shit is empty. 

You let out a frustrated groan and Dabi snatches it from you, inspecting the cheap plastic before giving it a good flick down the highway. It barely misses an oncoming truck. “Looks like you’re in a pinch.”

You tilt your head to look at him, cigarette still in mouth. “Can you be not annoying for like, two minutes?” 

“It has nothin’ to do with whether I can, and everythin’ to do with whether I want to. And the answer to that,” he says, “is ‘No’.” You pout. Sure enough, Dabi does nothing to hide his amused smirk. “Say ‘please’ and I might help you out.”

The implication isn’t lost on you. Warmth pools in your stomach and you raise an eyebrow at him, playing with the cigarette between your lips, fumbling through your pockets in hopes that another lighter would magically appear. You huff when it doesn’t. “I’d rather go through withdrawal.”

Dabi exhales deliberately, making a point of dropping his shoulders. “Such a piece of work.” 

He takes the cigarette from your lips and puts it to his, pinching the end between his thumb and index finger. The stick lights up briefly. You begrudgingly mutter your thanks and reach for it but Dabi leans away from you, not breaking your gaze. Shoulders wide and shiteating grin plastered on his face, he chuckles as he takes the first drag. The staples at the corners of his mouth tug on the purplish skin when he exhales, visibly amused when the smoke blows in your direction. 

You roll your eyes and groan, though your voice is softer than you’re used to when you speak; "You're a chronic nuisance and nobody loves you." 

"Sweetheart, I'm well aware." 

You finger another cigarette from the pack and hold it out to him expectantly. To your surprise, he complies. The flame he conjures dances around the tip of his finger. Up close like this, it’s… warm. 

It’s not supposed to be. Dabi isn't supposed to be warm or comforting or any of those things. He’s vicious, cold-blooded. Ruthless and vengeful. His sins are written over his body from the cheekbones to the shoulders, wrapped around his torso and hips, and most recently, his hands. The burns that used to hug his wrists so tenderly are beginning to crawl toward his knuckles. He’s not supposed to feel like warmth. Vicious. Cold-blooded. He’s a despicable person, inside and out.

Beyond despicable. That’s why you hate him, you think. 

That's why you… what?

You’re smacked out of your trance when his hand drops to his side. Thankfully his attention seems to be on the highway below. It’s not very busy, but it’s something to focus on. Slowly, you bring the cigarette to your lips and inhale. Your body welcomes the tobacco's bitterness as it creeps into your lungs and manages to dissolve some of the tension between your shoulders. 

Dabi burns through half of his cigarette in under a minute. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, shoulders dropped when he tilts his head back, eyes closed. Nothing to keep the silence at bay. He invites it in, soaks it up and lets it burn for a little bit before his body forces him to exhale again. 

It strikes you then that he’s… beautiful. His jaw is sharp and the slight curve of his nose all the softer. You wouldn't call him pretty. Handsome, maybe, despite his scars and jarred edges. Definitely attractive. Even the wind seems to think so as it caresses his hair in a way that makes your heart sting with envy. For some reason, Dabi looks small. Unguarded, with his throat exposed like that. 

"There a reason you keep eyefucking me?" 

The tranquillity around him vanishes in an instant, replaced by that familiar, snarky arrogance. Dabi's eyes open and flicker to your figure. You hold your breath. “There a reason you keep burning yourself up like that?”

He seems to consider your words as he takes one last drag. “Maybe I just like to chase death around the block,” he says, voice laced with endearing sarcasm. “Keeps things interesting.”

“Then I’ll just have to guess why you decided to humour me tonight.” 

"Because I hate you," he lies. 

Huh. 

You giggle, and the giggle bubbling up turns into laughter. Dabi’s heart skips a beat. You don’t see how his mouth opens and closes, don’t see how he almost, almost smiles, relishing in the moment - the crinkles in the corner of your eye when you laugh, the lovely sound of your joy - what the fuck did he say again?

It’s kind of amusing, frankly. “I really don’t think that you do,” you say, evidently confident even though your heart is racing.

So is his, but he doesn’t let it show, tries to bury it before the pounding in his chest escapes. Dabi raises an eyebrow. “That your second quirk?”

"More of a natural gift, actually.” You have his undivided attention, the intensity of his gaze boring right through you as you speak. “Can’t really help it. I just know when people lie." 

Dabi freezes. The cigarette butt between his fingers crumbles to ash in an instant. 

"You are not who you say you are, Dabi." 

How far should you go? 

"What you’re hiding is none of my business.” 

This far. 

“But you are not here for Stain's cause, and you really don't like Whiskey - I don't get why you force yourself to pretend you do.” 

Just a little bit further. 

“But it seems you do believe that nobody loves you." 

Maybe too far. 

Maybe it doesn’t matter. 

Not with him.

Dabi hasn’t moved, hasn’t made any attempt to murder you either, so you push it. You bring your palm up to his face, stopping mere inches from his scarred jawline. 

"And you do not hate me."

"I do." 

Maybe he should just ignite you on the spot. If he burns hot enough, there won’t be a corpse left to be found. He mentally shuffles through a multitude of scenarios in which he convinces Shigaraki that they were better off without you. 

For some stupid fucking reason, he comes up blank.

Your hand withdraws from him, coming to rest at your side. He flinches at the sudden loss. Fucking flinches, like you’ve scorched him with the mere implication of your touch. 

Something in your chest is trying to get out. For a second there you might burst. Hell, if that means he can finally see that you care, really care, you might as well. Some things aren’t meant to be said out loud and if Dabi is still capable of softness, you’re hoping he feels it too, the thing that passes between the two of you. Your heart aches for him in ways that shouldn’t be possible and yet here you are, standing before the man that’s lost count of how many lives he’s taken. Longing for him to need you the way you need him to.

"I can't get rid of that emptiness in you." 

"You're right," he says, and it’s much easier when he knows you see right through his lies. "You can't." 

“I don’t think anybody can.” 

Something in the back of his mind cries out. He’s turned the happy smile on your face into a sad one - one that wants to wipe off your face, not violently, not with harsh words, but tenderly. His eyes flicker to your cheek, your neck, your lips. 

It’s silent.

“But I can kiss you.”

Oh.

Yeah. Dabi thinks he would like that.

His lips meet yours, not even giving you a chance to think or breathe, and before you fully realise that it’s really happening you're kissing him back, all lips and tongue and teeth and a slight whimper escapes you. Mercifully, he doesn't stop to comment, but there's a hint of smugness when he slips his tongue into your mouth. His hands find your hips and he guides you backwards until your back is against the concrete. He has you completely, pressing you into the wall and holding you like he's afraid you're going to disappear any moment.

Your head feels fuzzy, eyes prickling and cheeks hot. His lips leave yours and find your jawline instead, teeth grazing. You roll your hips forward and brush over the bulge that’s forming in his crotch. There's a hint of a throaty moan and you can't help but laugh at him for it. 

“Shut up,” he muttered against the crook of your neck, teeth and tongue sucking and nibbling on the already tender skin. 

"Make me."

He firmly grips your chin with two fingers. It’s ridiculous, how he has you submit to him so easily, sending shivers of excitement down your spine and making you weak in the knees. With all the mental strength you can muster, you smile up at him triumphantly. “You didn’t drink.” 

“Had a reason not to.”

“And why is that?” 

Dabi bites down on your throat, too soft to draw blood but hard enough to make you freeze. 

He pushes the fabric aside and presses a finger against your wet entrance, and you could swear his voice drops an octave. “Keep runnin’ that mouth of yours and find out.” 

Fuck. 

Your eager cunt swallows his finger to the knuckle and he doesn't bother to add another, enjoying how you whimper at him teasing your softness and pressing against your cervix, just barely, enough to make you want more. 

There are slight alterations to his rhythm and you trust each and every one of them as he searches for the pace that makes you squirm the way he wants you to. You lose track of your moans when he finds it, slow and deep enough to reach pleasure inside you that you didn’t know you had. He coaxes moan after moan out of you, growing harder with every grind of your thigh against his crotch. 

“Stop being such a goddamn tease and just fuck me already.” 

“This is all you’re gettin’ for being such a goddamn brat.”

“Oh, shut- ah- up. You love it.”

“I hate it,” he corrects. 

“You- fuck,” you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders for support. 

He laughs - it’s a low and husky laugh, one that makes your breath hitch and your pussy clench around his digit. His movements are slow but firm as he begins to pump his finger in and out of you at a steady pace, curling ever so slightly when it brushes against your sweet spot. It’s cute, he thinks, how weak you are for him. 

Dabi has the audacity to lock eyes with you as the inevitable smirk makes its way onto his face. He has no business looking this smug with his erection pressed up against your thigh, but here he is. Hungry for your touch, starved for the sensation of being buried inside of you as though he’s always known how badly he needs it. Whatever he’s going to say is lost when your lips crash into his again and it’s him who lets a moan slip.

“I hate you,” he growls. 

“Such a sweet-talker.” You lazily drag your tongue up his cheek and place a kiss on his temple. There’s the way he gasps just a little too audibly to go unnoticed, the way his fingers dig into your flesh too tightly.

"From the first time I saw you, I've hated your guts." 

You hum, rolling your hips against his and feeling him pulsate. Dabi hisses when you squeeze your thighs, pulling and pushing him with every deliberate motion. Nails digging further into your thigh as he lets out a raspy moan. The sensation drives both of you crazy, the knot in your stomach suddenly feeling very hot and tight. 

"I ah- I hate you in ways you can't- fuck- imagine." 

His forehead is pressed against your shoulder, teeth lightly grazing your neck. You finally have him where you want him, almost daring to protest when he pulls his finger out of you but you unbuckle his belt instead, pulling down the hem of his underwear to reveal his full length. 

Your eyes widen at the sight. “Holy shit, you’re big.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be able to take it,” Dabi says with what little restraint he can muster. “Take it for me? Please?” 

And how could you deny him such a sweet request?

He lifts you up and props you onto the concrete. It’s not cold at all, you realise, and when his hot palm caresses the curve of your ass, it’s clear why. You pull him closer by the hips and he slides into you. Not wholly at first, as if to test your limit. You reassure him that it’s fine, you can take it, and god does he fill you up nicely when he bottoms out. It’s like his cock was always meant to be buried inside you. 

“Fuck,” he curses, “Fuck- fuck. Fuck-”

It’s unlike any meaningless fuck he’s ever had. The grip your pussy has around him is the most heavenly sensation Dabi’s ever felt, something so divine it’s making him want to whisper prayers into your skin.

“‘S okay,” you whisper instead, “I got you.” Even though he’s the one holding you close like his life depends on it. Your fingers slip under his shirt and around his torso, pulling him forward to trap him in another heated kiss.

One can only deny the truth for so long before it begins to eat them alive. You've crawled into his heart and made your home there. He tried to claw you out, but you ignite a feeling in him that he's desperately failed to put out. Touya was one to feed the flames - always had been. 

So when you reach your high he holds you close, picking up the pace at which he ruts into you once you’re pushed over the edge. Stars cloud your vision and you’re letting yourself fall backwards because you know he’s there to catch you, his grip around your back firm despite how hard his thighs are shaking when he spills into you. His thrusts are short but deep. Your fingernails scratch along his shoulder and he fucking loses it when you bite down on his neck and moan his name. Some of him is leaking and running down your thigh already but he fucks it back into you, coming undone with the sweetest, most honey-coated moan you’re ever heard. 

Dabi’s eyes meet yours, pleasure and ecstasy written all over them as you both bask in the afterglow. You brush your thumb across his cheek to wipe away the bloody drop that runs down from his right eye, gently inspecting if any of the staples had come undone. 

Dabi puts his hand over yours, guiding it to his lips where he places a kiss on your knuckles before letting go. You rest your forehead against his shoulder and allow yourself to breathe in the dewy blue of the night. 

♡

Some of us only know love as pain. Every positive emotion is intertwined with an incurable, deep-rooted sadness. I believe that Dabi would express his love in a way that people who’ve been traumatically sabotaged from forming any good relationships would; denying himself the good parts and ultimately being overwhelmed when they become too strong to ignore. 

If you enjoyed this, consider reblogging or giving me some love in the replies or on AO3 <3

#dabi #dabi x reader #touya todoroki #touya x reader #todoroki touya #bnha #dabi x you #touya x you #bnha x reader #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki toya x reader #league of villains #league of villains x reader #bnha x you #i've been working on this for a while and i'm honestly super happy with it #my writing #x

[gracev0609]

Plaything

Josh X Danny X Y/N

WC: 2k

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI, Explicit Sex, Jealousy, Persuasion, Polyamorous Relationship

Cowritten by my lovely friend @lipstickitty ❤️

The bar was loud with chatter, laughter and music pumping, but Danny could still make out Josh's distinct laughter. He zeroed in on his partner while Josh chatted and flirted with a woman at the bar for the last fifteen minutes.She was laughing too loud at whatever story he was telling her, making sure to put her hand on his bicep. Danny's jaw clenches hard and he sees red when Josh locks eyes with him over her shoulder as he pushes a stray piece of her hair behind her ear.

Danny gripped his pint glass tightly in his fist, shooting back the rest of his now warm beer before getting up making his way towards Josh. Josh, who was supposed to be on a date with Danny.

Danny stood right behind Josh, his chest against his back, towering over the smaller man,” I thought you were going to get us another round babe. Who's your friend?”

Josh cranes his neck to look at Danny,”Oh! This is Steph, she's a fan of mine!”

Danny's eyes narrowed slightly at the use of the word mine, Josh giving him a little smirk back.

Danny places his hand on Josh's hip, his fingers finding their way into the opening of his pants pocket,” Of yours huh?”

Subtly Josh backs his ass into Danny's crotch, knowing the game he's playing very well, making sure Danny is pissed enough to give it to him exactly how he needs it.

“Yeah Hun, Steph here said I'm her favorite and asked if she could get us a shot. So I'll be back to our table soon!”

Danny seethed, being dismissed too easily when he was promised a nice night out with his lover. Through clenched teeth he tells the girl it was nice to meet her and orders one more beer. After getting his beverage he stomps back to the table he's been inhabiting alone for the better part of the evening, pulling out his phone and scrolling through socials. Picture after picture of his friends having a great Saturday night with their friends and lovers mock him. He contemplates texting Y/N, but he decides she doesn't need to know about his less than stellar evening.

Josh saunters back to the table with a partially emptied cocktail in his hand,”You ready to go after your drink?”

Danny clenches his jaw for the umpteenth time this outing,”Yeah Josh. All ready to go.” He tilts his head back, guzzling the rest of his fresh beer before setting it down on the table harder than intended.

“Finish your drink Joshua.”

Josh feels his blood travel south as Danny goes to settle their tab. Danny is pissed and that's exactly how Josh wants him.

Once in the car Danny's navigating their way home with a set jaw, and one hand gripped in the wheel. So far he's been silent, the tension in the air causing Josh to shift in his seat subtly pressing his palm to his erection.

Danny barks,” You had a fun night. Are you palming yourself because of that girl or because you know you're about to be punished.”

Josh whips his head towards his love,” No! Not.. not because of Steph.”

“Oh! You remember her name.”

“I mean she was a nice girl Daniel, that's it.”

Daniel's nostrils flare,” She's not so nice when she had you ignoring me for most of the night!”

Josh slinks back into his seat, Danny's booming voice shaking him slightly. He felt himself twitch in his pants, maybe it was a bit twisted but Danny's anger was turning him on immensely.

Josh places his hand on Daniel's thigh, feeling the tension radiating off of him,” I'm sorry baby, really I am.”

“Whatever Josh. When we get home your ass better go straight to our bedroom.”

Josh lets out a breath quietly muttering,” Yes sir.”

The rest of the drive was silent besides the low hum of the tires on the road. Once home he threw the car into park, quickly getting out of the vehicle with Josh following him dutifully. Danny tossed his keys into the catch all tray next to the door in the foyer before storming to the bedroom. Josh caught Y/Ns eye from her place on the couch. She furrows her brow, “What happened Josh?”

Josh giggles, grabbing her hands helping her off the couch,”Dates not over yet baby. Come on.”

She catches the way his smile turns slightly wicked,”Oh? You pissed him off on purpose. What a bad boy Josh.”

Josh leads her to the bedroom where they find Danny already shirtless with a pair of restraints in his hands. Twisting and turning the material in his fingers, staring at them in his grasp.

“Strip and get on the bed Josh.” Danny softened his gaze looking at his other love,” Hi baby. I wanna eat your pretty pussy, how does that sound?”

She nods her head, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. Danny lovingly cups her jaw, stroking his thumb against her cheek. He turns his attention to Josh, making his way to the head of the bed.

“Give me your wrists.”

Josh presents his wrists to him, his eyes soft waiting to see what Daniel has in store for him. Danny loops the fabric around his wrists securing them tightly, perhaps a little too tight, before securing them to the headboard.

“Stay put and watch.”

Turning towards his love,”Y/N sweetie, how about you sit in the armchair, that way he can watch us.”

She sits down, scooting her hips to the edge of the chair and Danny kneels in front of her immediately removing her lounge pants. Josh watches as Danny immediately dives his tongue into her folds making her yelp, the obscene audio making him fully harden.

“Fuck Danny!” She groans as he focuses all his frustrations into eating her out like a starved man desperate for a meal. Motion on the bed catches her attention, and she bites her lip as she watches Josh flex his hips into nothing. He's aching for attention. He's hard and leaking as he continues to writhe on the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he silently begs to touch or be touched.

She pulls on Danny's hair, easing him off of her a bit,” Danny… he needs attention.”

Danny sucks her labia into his mouth quickly before detaching to respond,” No.”

He buries his tongue in her folds once again.

Shakily she breathes,” You can't ignore him Danny, that's mean.”

He removes his mouth from her once again, his eyes cold,” Oh? Like the way he ignored me all night to flirt? He can watch.”

Danny turns his attention to Josh for the first time since he bound his wrists,” How does it feel to watch Josh?”

A quiet whine slips from Josh's lips, and he clenches and unclenches his fists. His legs tense and relax, he's so worked up.

Danny softly coos to Y/N,” Want you to cum on my tongue okay baby? I need to taste how sweet you are.”

Danny thrashes his head side to side, tongue lapping across her clit over and over. Finally her body tenses and releases, Danny growls as she cums on his tongue, exactly what he wanted.

A small,” Please Danny” comes from the bed.

“Mmm, no. I don't think you've earned it yet baby.”

Josh looks at the ceiling, willing the tears away, and Y/N takes pity on him. She makes her way to the side of the bed, kissing him softly as Josh immediately deepens it before Danny pulls her back and they both cry out.

“Enough! Y/N you know he's being punished for his behavior, don't make me punish you too.”

“Please, I need something! I'm so hard, I've been hard. It hurts, please I need… I need relief.” Josh pleads with tears fully streaming down his cheeks.

“Please Danny, I love you! I wanted you to claim me not forget about me.”

Y/N speaks up,”Danny look at him!”

She takes in his tears on his cheeks, his body flushed red, and his cock throbbing.

“He's fine Y/N.”

This isn't going the way Josh intended, at all. He has one more idea to try to get his way, after all he was looking forward to Danny's hand wrapped around his throat not being tied up and left wanting.

Josh chokes out a sob,”I'm not having fun anymore.”

Immediately Danny’s eyes soften and he unties his wrists,”Oh, baby I'm so sorry.”

He kisses his red raw skin on his wrists, before cupping his face in his hands,” I love you. I'm sorry Josh, do you want to stop?”

“No, just touch me. Please.”

“Absolutely baby, anything you want.”

Danny wastes no time peppering his face with kisses, tangling his hands into Josh's curls. Y/Ns hands run up and down the land of Josh's torso making his stomach muscles flutter with the teasing touch.

Josh preens at the feeling of both of his lovers hands and mouths all over his body. His fingers tangle with Y/Ns capturing her attention,” Lovie…. My cock, it needs attention. Needs your mouth.”

Quickly she kisses down Josh's body, taking his aching length into his mouth. Josh melts into the mattress, finally receiving relief.

“Does that feel good, my love? Finally getting what you needed.” Danny croons into the hot skin of Josh's neck.

Josh rapidly nods his head moaning out as pleasure builds quickly within his body with each flex of his hips. Much quicker than he was expecting. Josh grabs at Danny's hand, bringing it to his throat,” Can I cum Danny?”

Danny securely squeezes the sides of Josh's throat, exactly the way he likes it,” Yeah baby, you can cum. You've earned it.”

“Do it Josh, I want it,” Y/N says from below, her voice gruff from the abuse her throat has taken. She wraps her lips around his head, hollowing out her cheeks taking him down as far as she can. Josh digs his nails into Danny's forearm as his eyes roll back. His back arches and a moan squeaks out from his throat as he finally releases. She swallows down all he has to offer, her tongue lapping at his cock until he's a twitchy mess.

“Fuck! I'm so sensitive.” Josh pants.

His love crawls back up his body as he takes a deep breath still coming down from his high. She nuzzles her face into his neck, kissing the now damp skin,”Do you feel better baby?”

He nods, reaching for the prominent bulge in Danny's pants.

“Let me make up for what happened at the bar.”

Danny rolls onto his back Josh eagerly pulling his pants and underwear down, letting his cock spring free. No sooner than removing his clothing from around his ankles Josh was eagerly sucking him down.

“For fucks sake Josh,” Danny groans, throwing his head back into the pillow.

Y/N finds Danny's mouth, her lips connecting with his. He immediately deepens it, prodding his tongue into her mouth. Pleasure floods Danny's body as Josh bobs his head faster, cupping his balls with his hand. Panting, Danny bites down on her lips, whining into her mouth as he comes undone. Once Danny has come down, Josh gently pulls off of him. He places wet hot kisses to the inside of his thighs, nuzzling into Danny's skin he sighs,” Nectar from the Gods.”

Josh resumes his place in the middle of the bed, sandwiched between the loves of his life,”So…. I have a confession to make.” He turns his head looking towards Danny,” I pissed you off on purpose, and I said I wasn't having fun on purpose. I- I wanted this, I wanted you to spoil me.”

Danny's jaw drops,” Wait?! You're fucking me. You- you! What the hell Josh I felt bad! And you just wrapped me around your finger getting whatever you want.”

Josh intertwines their fingers together,” But I love youu!”

Fin.

#gvf #josh gvf #josh kiszka #danny gvf #danny wagner #gvf smut #gvf fanfiction #iced chai universe

[lunaekalenda]

warnings: vampire!suguru, blood (mentions of blood drinking too), gnreader, use of pet names (such as doll, dove...), not explicit but suggestive, mention of alcohol (none of the main characters are drinking), kinda manipulation (?) (suguru's eyes act like a magnet?)

he smells you before he sees you.

fresh, metallic and curiously sweet. the smell of your blood stands out, even when he was about to take the first person to approach him as a prey. suguru sweeps his gaze around the pub, searching the source of that delicious smell, searching you.

his eyes, shiny and sharp, move between faces and bodies, and, there you are, near the entrance, smiling to a group of friends. your heart beats fast and your bloodstream flows delicate, as he stands up to walk towards you.

you had something ethereal, something magical, that would have called anyone's attention. unlucky you it was his. he meanders between dancing people, some of them too drunk for his liking. alcohol gives blood that taste that remains sour on his throat. the closer he gets, more excited he feels. his fangs ache from the need to dig into your neck, but he asks himself for patience. he's soon near, and the group surrounding you feel his presence way before you do. you're way more interesting now that he's closer to you. he keeps his eyes on your figure, trying to get your attention. he needs to be patient. you'll be worth the wait.

giving a long sip to his drink, he looks at you from time to time, a subtle way to flirt, to show you his interest, to make you curious about him. his long hair falls on top of his shoulders, and half of it is tied on a messy bun. he looks good, and that's probably the first thought you get about him when your friend tells you there's someone into you. his eyes meet yours when you turn around, as you smile softly towards him. he's definitely handsome, and he seems nice. exactly what you needed today. your friends push you towards him with thumbs up and drunk laughs, and you find yourself a couple steps ahead. your untouched drink rests on your right hand, and you cover it with your free hand before walking towards the stranger. you're still not sure if it is a good idea, but there's something calling - no, pulling you towards him.

the room feels hot due to all the people dancing inside, and your skin feels sticky. the glitter on your cheeks shines while you move towards the stranger. he looks even better now, with sharp features, feline eyes and a playful smile, still quiet. he turns towards you, and now there you are, face to face, eyes locked on each other's. his eyes are intense on yours as you close distances. they seem to be a magnet.

his hands are closed around a tiny bottle of water, which was probably way more expensive than any alcoholic drink you could ask for. you know it for experience, as the alcohol-free daikiri on your hands. he looks at your glass with interest, as you keep a hand on top of it.

"smart move." he admits. the velvety, playful sound caressing your skin. "better to be safe." his eyes go back to yours, as he bows his head in a salute, since he's unable to shake your hands. you smile at him. "suguru geto." his voice gets that playful tone again, and it seems to bewitch you, it makes you get closer to him to hear his voice closer. your movement causes something on him, something primal, not human. he had to control himself to not bury his face on your neck and his teeth on your skin. you tell him your name, barely audible with the high music, so he looks, again, directly to your eyes.

"should we find a more peaceful spot? the alley behind the pub should work. i wanna be able to hear you while you speak."

you follow him, his hand caging yours as you walk behind him, hearing the laughs and cheers from your friends on your back. the fresh air hits your skin when suguru opens the door. the alley is quiet, just the bodyguard and a couple guys smoking outside, near the entrance of the pub. following him, he finds a spot where both of you can be alone, and you realize suguru doesn't wanna speak.

or, at least, that's not what he's planning to do with his mouth, because while you repeat your name to him, his eyes are fixed on your lips. the attraction between both is innegable, and you find yourself copying him. they seem so soft to kiss, so nice to feel against your own. your voice loses strength as his gaze gets more and more intense, and you seem to be too infatuated to remember even what you were talking about.

"sorry, could you repeat? i think i got lost." he whispers. he's way closer now, and your heartbeat raises.

"what was i saying?" you whisper back. his shoulders move with a quiet laugh, and he's getting closer. you feel the coldness of the wall behind you. he takes a cold hand to your face, caressing your cheek.

"i can't remember, you were too beautiful speaking for me to pay attention. i'm sorry." you laugh quietly and he joins. it looks so intimate, as if you were sharing love words after a first date, and you can feel your heart racing on your chest when he gets a bit closer. he speaks, his breath against your lips, fruity. "can i kiss you?"

he doesn't need even an answer when your lips find his. they're cold, soft and they move masterfully above yours. he knows when to bite, when to kiss and when to suck. his hands caress your sides slowly, and yours crawl towards his neck. the kiss feels too short when he parts, both of you taking air desperately, before his hand exposes your neck, caressing your head softly and moving it to a side, giving him free access.

his tongue traces your vein, from your jaw down to your clavicle, in a sweet dance, making you pull him closer. the sweet smell of you makes him inhale on the curve on your neck, feeling already the taste on his lips. he parts, and then, you see them. the fangs. longer than the rest of his teeth, he isn't even trying to hide them anymore. your legs feel weak. everyone warns kids about vampires, but it wasn't more than a silly children tale. he caresses your cheek slowly, before taking those sharp eyes to yours. "oops. i might have skipped a detail." his gaze is intense. "i was too excited to try your sweetness." his finger traces again your pulse, as you keep your eyes on his. so handsome. his touch so gentle. so attentive and careful. does it even matter if you let him have a little taste? you're lost in his dark irises, in the way he looks at you, in the way he touches you. you don't mind giving him a little bit as long as he keeps doing the same. the question leaves your mouth before your common sense comes back.

"letting you try... will... will it kill me?" you ask. suguru's eyes shine, as he passes his tongue over his teeth. his fangs shine under the moonlight.

"no, dove, it won't." your legs relax as your heart beats faster, making him way more excited to try you. "it would be a waste to taste something so sweet just once." without giving you any time, his teeth find your vein before he kisses and, right after, he bites.

#vampire!suguru #suguru x reader #suguru x you #tw: blood #tw: vampires #suguru fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #geto x you #geto x reader #geto x y/n #vampire!geto

[venomous-ragno]

As you may or may not have noticed, I am utterly, digustingly simping for Ghost-

So I wrote some absolutely not self indulgent sfw headcannons about him.

I take requests btw;)

Tags: CoD Ghost, Ghost x reader, gn!reader, Ghost headcannons, sfw, fluff w a pinch of angst

Warnings: Not proofread lol

Masterlist

Gif by @daniel-bruehl

• A thoroughly scarred man. Lots of tiny ones on his hands; hesitant to admit that those come from one too many knife games that he and his comrades used to do when freshly enlisted.

• Tends to brush his calloused thumbs across your face: Eyes, lips, cheekbones, he wants to emboss your features into his mind. Trust him, he won't forget no matter how far away he is.

• An emotional tank, that one, and just as penetrable. It takes him quite some time to grow comfortable with the topic of loved ones, be they family, friends or comrades. Even longer if you were to let him open up on his own; a little question here and there will help the screws come lose.

• Hesitant to teach you about fighting and guns (if you're not military already, that is). Ghost... Prefers you unaware of what happens out there. Unaware to the blood coating his hands, long dried and yet fresh all the same.

• Love is like fire to him. Keeps you warm, lights up even the darkest of nights, but will burn you if you're not careful. And sometimes, you can do everything right and still end up scarred.

• His 'no' is by far the biggest, most sturdy wall. Everyone in the 141 knows that, once his no comes, there's no chance convincing him otherwise. Ghost doesn't speak unless he's thought it through and stands by it. But you- the way you're searching for cracks in that wall to sneak through. You. The way your lips move, hand on his chest. The way you pout, bat your pretty little lashes at him. Fuck-

• Ghost is hesitant to admit you're his weakness. Strange to see the LT like so when he's used to clear cut commands and statements. You've got him at a checkmate. An impasse. Ghost knows how utterly powerless he is, worse even that you didn't even do anything to begin with - you didn't flirt with him, vie for him like others had in the past. No, he just fell for you entirely on his own. And now you've got him in your palm.

• His love is rough. It's tough, it's stubborn, but it's genuine and loyal. He just... His heart gives in at the thought of you suffering because of him, because of what he does, the reputation that preceeds him. And he knows. He knows he can't always be there to protect you from the world. He knows he's doomed when he looks at you and the pull of his heart stings as a part of him whispers to let you go and be with someone safer, someone who isn't him.

But the heart whispers back.

Perhaps that's where that cynical streak of his stems from.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #gender neutral reader #call of duty x you #ghost headcannons #ghost fluff