#did somebody fucking write this about my life?
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𝟐 — 𝐃𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Hobie Brown / SpiderPunk x Fem! Reader
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Use of Y/N, No physical description of reader other than mostly height comparison. Swearing, Mention of alcohol, drinking, vomiting, Fluff.
𝑁𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠
𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡
A/N: I honestly had to rethink this over and over again so many times even though I was like half way thru the damn chapter so that's why making this took me long, also the fact I have the attention span of a child. I was really not sure about this whole thing cuz it kinda felt too sudden but hopefully, it turned out fine? for me it did tbh but like. *blink* yk? Or maybe it's just because I'm not confident in my fucking writing skills and need validation for every damn step I take<3 But anyways, I made half of the notes for this chapter during math class and the teacher caught me so that too (Spoiler Alert: I got sent to the principal's office :3) but that's besides the point. Also if some of the characters were a little OOC, I'm very sorry- I tried my best to make them as accurate as possible (some inaccurate shit tends to get on my nerve, mostly if it's produced by me) annnnd I need to stop ranting💀. I don't take requests nor do I plan on doing so in the future. Happy reading! 😉
Chapter 2 >>> Chapter 3
Each Stroke of paint is smooth, filling the wall with a little more color than before. The bristles of the paint brush gently swipes over the wall. Music flowed into your ears and through, making you hum.
The atmosphere was calming, like nothing could ever—
“Whatcha listenin’ to?” A teasing voice appeared beside you making you jump and your shoulder tense up.
Right. You forgot he was still here. Pushing your headphones off, “a song.” You answered flatly, turning away from him, your back facing Hobie as you dipped your paint brush into the thick minty liquid that was within the metal bucket and slid the brush across the wall.
“Really? I'll have to check it out when I get home.”
You scoff at the sarcasm in his tone.
After yesterday, he helped you with a little cleaning. You thought he was probably going to dip and disappear from your life after that so when he returned the next day (today), it did surprise you a little. He's been just hanging around. You don't know why, he doesn't owe you anything. “Why are you helping me again?” You turned to him with a quirked eyebrow.
“Mate, you've asked me that like 4 times already.”
“And each time, I haven't gotten a proper answer.”
This time, he's the one to scoff. “Is it that bad to want to just help somebody?”
“You're dodging the question again.” You say in a sing-song voice.
He holds his hands up in surrender, “aight aight. I'm just tryna help out a friend of a friend, y'know? Plus. I ain't' hurtin’ anyone, right?”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it means, love.”
You sighed, your arm falling to your side. Your other hand coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “okay. I'll admit, I'm being a little… douchey.” You say, biting your lip, “But I can't say that I don't appreciate your help, and company.”
“Little's an understatement.” Hobie quipped, snickering to himself which made you throw a side glance in his direction. An innocent smile spread across his face.
You rolled your eyes turning back to the wall to continue what you were doing. Hobie took it as a sign to pursue his side of the wall.
A small spot was left just at the top of the wall making you push yourself up on your tiptoes, trying to get to the empty white patch on top of the wall.
Hobie, who was distracted by his own work, took a glance at you when he heard a few groans of frustration. Seeing you so frustrated over such a small thing brought a small smirk to his face. He settled his brush down into the paint bucket and made his way to you, your head turning to him when you caught a glimpse of him in the corner of your eye extending his hand, beckoning for you to give him the brush you held.
You raised your eyebrow but gave in, settling the brush into his extended hand, your fingers grazing his palm before you quickly withdrew your hand to your side.
He stepped forward closer to you and the wall, making you step back away, giving him space as he took care of the last white spot on the wall.
“Thank you,” you gave him a small smile and a nod.
“No problem.” He returned the smile. You two stood there holding eye contact. His eyes were as pretty as they were in the poster. No. Prettier. You thought, why? You didn't know.
You quickly cleared your throat and looked away to look at your progress the two of you had made whilst he sunk the paint brush back into the depths of the mint paint after filling the small white spot with paint.
The two of you had already completed three walls, the last wall was just about half done. The only other thing left to paint was the closet, you'd get to that later.
“You wanna go get a drink?” Hobie suddenly asked, turning his head towards you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather vest.
You rubbed a hand over your jaw, the thought of a break was very enticing right about now since you'd been busy for about a solid 4-5 hours. You answered after a second or two of silence. “Sure. I could use a little break.”
“Good cuz I know an awesome pub around here.”
“Lead the way.” You said extending your arm towards the door.
—
The two of you walked side by side, Hobie’s gaze fixed on the rock he kept kicking in front of him during your walk, yours lost in the sky that was split into hues of yellow and pink.
“So, I haven't really seen you around here before.” Hobie suddenly spoke up after his rock companion got left behind, a small pout formed on his face which disappeared as quickly as it appeared when it did but obviously he wasn't going back just to retrieve a rock.
“Just moved here about a few days ago, used to live in York with my parents.” You answered, crossing one of your arms behind your head.
“Hm.” He nodded before silence fell over the two of you again, seems neither of you knew what to say. Your eyes lingered on the sky, watching the purple mixing into the pink and orange.
This time, you decided to break the silence. “So, where are we going?” Your head turned towards him, tilting your head a little.
“It's a surprise.” He answered, shrugging his shoulders.
“It's a bar.”
“Your point?”
“I mean, how ‘exciting’ can a bar really be?” You snorted.
“Depends, you ever been in an underground pub?”
“No— say what now?” You gawked, turning to Hobie with wide eyes who just smirked and lifted his chin. When he didn't continue elaborating further, you decided to poke at the subject. “Wait, c'mon. You gotta tell me more.”
Chuckling, he let out a low whistle. “No, I don't.”
“You can't just tell me we're going to an underground bar then shut up. Like- what if I get kidnapped or sumn?” You exaggerated, throwing your hands up in the air.
“I'll be right there beside you, love, won't even let anyone lay a hand. Good?” He proposed, playfully tilting his head a little.
“You're torturing me.” You groaned.
“Maybe that's my plan.” He shrugged, flicking invisible lint off his jacket.
“...”
“How do I know you're not the one who's trying to kidnap me?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Doesn't it seem oddly weird you just randomly appear at my parlor, offer me help and now you're taking me to a very secret underground bar.”
As Hobie heard you ramble on, he couldn't help but start to chuckle. His chuckle twisting into a flown blown laugh as you threw a playful punch in his shoulder.
“Tell me. You have trust issues or something?” He chuckled, wiping an unshed tear from his eye. “Just have a little patience. It'll be worth it, I promise. I mean, you can always go back if you’re too paranoid.”
“Hilarious.”
“I'm being serious, I can walk you back right now if you'd like.” He offered, slowing down.
Your lips parted as you thought about it for a quick second before shaking your head. “Nah, no thank you. I'm coming along.”
“Hm, suit yourself.” He shrugged looking back to the front of the street. Your footsteps falling in sync with one another once more.
Silence taking over, punctuated by the honking motorcycles and cars and the birds chirping.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Twelve minutes later, the both of you stood before an abandoned 2 storey office building. It looked like it hadn't been used in decades with its cracked windows which reflected the creamy moonlight. Graffiti turned the concrete structure into a riot of colors, doodles, swear words and penises with overgrown vines that clawed their way up the sides.
As Hobie strode towards the door, his hand inches away from pushing the door when you suddenly spoke up, “it's in there?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” He said turning his head towards you, “I know it don’ look it but I promise it's on purpose. Keeps the coopers away.”
“Ehh… I don't know. I'm starting to believe the whole “you're trying to kidnap me” thing.” Skepticism traced your voice.
“Oh, c’mon. Just trust me.”
“That's what I'm scared to do.” You scoffed. “This looks like a place where serial killers would stuff their victims in.”
“Dunno, never tried digging around. Two bodies at best?” He analyzed jokingly, covering up his laugh with a cough as he saw you pale a little.
“You're not funny.”
“Dunno ‘bout that, love.” He snickered. “You comin’?” He didn't wait for you to answer before he disappeared into the building.
You crossed your arms tapping your foot, not wanting to follow him in because of your stubbornness but something about standing alone sent chills down your spine.
I'm gonna kill him. You quickly sprinted into the office-like building following Hobie's direction, running away from something you don't even know.
You find yourself walking behind Hobie who walks up to an elevator across the room. The walls were crumbling, chairs laidon the floor, tables flipped upside down “Why the hell is this place so run down?”
“It's a meeting ground made by the government, basically all the corrupted and secret shit that they wanted no one knowing happened around here but word got out. Eventually punks started graffiting the grounds, protesting, sneaking in and eventually drove them out to who knows where. Started using it as a club and a speakeasy after cuz it was spacious grounds. Coopers don’ blink an eye towards this direction cuz they're bloody cowards.” He casually explains (leaving out the part where he whooped their asses and corrupted all their data with a chip he made as Spider-Punk but you didn't need to know that.)
He pressed a few buttons which opened up the elevator doors. Wordlessly, he gestured to you to get in.
“And you know this how?” You lifted an eyebrow climbing into the elevator, he followed suit.
When you asked that, it brought a proud smile to Hobie's face, “I was one of the punks.” He answered nonchalantly without glancing at you, the pockets of his leather vest stuffed with his hands. The elevator door slid back together locking the both of you in.
“Of course you were,” you said it like it was one of the most obvious things in the world for which you got a little nudge in the shoulder from his elbow. He pressed a button on a small keypad beside the door making the elevator flow down.
The elevator finally stopped making a small chiming sound after what seemed like minutes but in reality. It had been barely more than 40 seconds. Guess time just slowed down when you're in the presence of awkward silence… or Hobie.
The doors opened up letting bright neon lights seep in and illuminate your face. The ��bar’ (which looked more like a rave) was more lively than most bars you've gone to. Vibrant blends of pink, blue, and yellow casted over you.
“W'dya think?” A voice shouted over the blasting songs, Hobie's voice. You just stared at him wide eyed, unable to make up a coherent response. “You'll get used to it.” He nudged you before stepping out the elevator, signaling for you to follow him.
You shook yourself out of your daze and promptly caught up with him. You swore to god you've put way too much trust in someone you met a day ago. Maybe not even a complete 24 hours yet but you're too deep in and too stubborn to turn around.
“You come here often then?” You arched an eyebrow in his direction, his gaze straight ahead but he tilted his head a little to meet yours.
“Occasionally. Usually—” He was cut off by someone who called out to him in the crowd. “Yo, it's Hobie everyone!”
People glanced in your (his) direction, waving at him and cheering him on. Said man waves back, winking in the direction of a few gals who probably fainted with how excited they got but you didn't bother checking.
“Mr.Popular, huh?”
“That's one way to put it. I come here to hang out often so I know people.”
“Do you usually take all your girls here?” You suddenly blurted out, heat clawed its way up your neck when you processed what you just had said. He raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress the shit-eating grin that came onto his face. “Shut up, I didn't mean it like that.” You grumbled, turning your head away from him.
“I didn't say anything,” he shrugged, feigning obliviousness.
“You implied it.”
“Did I?”
Something about his tone just wanted to make you sink into the floor and become one with the secretundergroundbarraveparty (whatever it was) or maybe punch that stupid smile off his face but you didn't do either. Instead you continued making your way through the crowd with him until you reached a bar. Several drinks lined up on several shelves behind the counter. You could tell that it wasn't just some cheap liquor crap either. It made you wonder where they had gotten it from.
He sat down on one of the stools, locking eyes with you before patting the stool beside him. Before you could say anything, your body moved on its own, settling yourself on the stool. Nobody else was really seated near your guys, most of the people were already drunk and partying.
Hobie leaned back against nothing but the air particles, his eyes resting on you when you stirred a little, turning to face him, “what?” you tilted your head.
“Nothin’, just thinking.” He gave you one of his small smiles before his attention averted to the raven-haired girl that walked through one of the doors that was hidden behind the counter. Her eyes fell on the two of you making them pop open, “are my eyes deceiving me or are those my most favorite people? Y/N, you didn't tell me you were in town!” She beamed.
“Yuri?” Your eyes harmonized hers. “I was gonna surprise you but… wait, what're you doing here?”
“Me? I work here, babe. The real question is what are the two of you doing here, hmm?” Yuri gaped, leaning against the counter. Her arms crossed over it.
“He dragged me into this.” You said pointing your thumb at the man beside you, making him gasp dramatically, “nah nah, I see how it is.” He drawled, turning his head away from you.
“Drama queen.” You accused, punched him in his bicep. The two of you acted like you had known each other for years by now.
“Ooh, you two must be close.” Yuri cooed, tilting her head, her cheek squished up against her hand as she watched the two of you interact.
“We met yesterday,” you scoffed, turning down any further suggestions that she could blurt out.
“Is that supposed to make a difference?” Yuri sassed, wiping a glass mug down with a cloth that was under the counter.
“Yuri.” Your eyebrows knitted together making her smirk, “what? I'm being serious.” She smirked.
“If this is you being serious, I don't wanna know what you being unserious is like.” Yuri snickered, placing two mugs in front of the two of you. Her body twisted around pulling out one of the alcoholic drinks out of the shelf and shaking the bottle before pouring it into your glass. “So darling, how've you been, how's Camden treating you so far?” She asked, pushing the two mugs across the counter towards you too.
“It's been alright. I've been working on my parlor recently. Otherwise… nothing special. Oh, Spider-Punk also saved my brain from spewing out like three days ago so that's something,” You shrugged when you suddenly heard Hobie choke on his drink, his beer going down the wrong pipe making him cough harshly. You and Yuri raise an eyebrow in his direction.
“Bloody hell. Sorry, this- this drink is really strong,” He sputtered, clearing his throat. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, tears stinging his eyes.
“Okay…” Your tone contained skepticism in it, “you good now?” You asked to which he nodded. “Fantastic.”
You nodded, turning back to Yuri. A silence washing over the three of you even with the blast of music and chitter chatter in the back.
Yuri opened her mouth to say something but quickly closed it when she heard the door squeak open. A brunette walked through, his face flushed as he stumbled towards the counter. “Hey!”
“Flash!” Yuri squeaked, her eyebrows knitting together. “You're not supposed to drink during your fucking shift!”
“Bloody hell. Chill, mom.” He rolled his eyes, voice awfully slurred leaning his hip against the counter but miserably failing after almost falling.
“Ay,” Hobie lifted his head in a greeting while you sat beside him thinned-lipped.
“Oh my god. Hobie, is that you my man?” Flash exclaimed, throwing his arms out in a hug but unable to reach him due to the counter that separated them so going for a high-wave instead that he missed by a head.
“The one and only,” Hobie snickered, grabbing Flash's wrist and guiding him through the high five properly.
Flash clicked his tongue, turning his head towards you, “Ooh, and who's this pretty little thing?” He smirked, grabbing your hand that laid atop the counter and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You gave him a polite smile, retracting your hand. You opened your mouth to introduce yourself but Hobie beat you to it. “Y/N Y/L/N. We met yesterday.”
“What he said,” you dipped your chin in agreement.
“A pretty name for a prettier lady,” Flash winked at you when Yuri pushed him away with her whole hand pressed up against his face, “don't mind this idiot. He always gets like this when he's woozy.”
“‘m not woozy.” Flash grumbled, pushing her hand off his face and crossing his arms over his chest like a child who didn't get what they wanted.
“Sure you aren't.” Yuri rolled her eyes, wiping the black marble counter with gold veinings etched into them with a scruffy cloth tinted a light brown at hand (you assumed that it used to be white once.)
“Just a little bit, alright?” He grunted.
You tune in and out of the conversation thinking about what you could do back at the parlor, what you still need to do and improve, how you're going to start developing and promoting your work. Making a website could do me goods, never hurts to try. Maybe I should make a Facebook page— You jumped out of your twilight zone when a pair of fingers snapped right in front of your face.
“Welcome back to earth, love.” Hobie's voice was the first one you processed.
“Sorry, just got some things on my mind.” You ran a hand over your head till the nape of your neck, letting it settle there.
“I can see that,” Hobie took the empty glass of beer in your hand and replaced it with a refilled one. Your eyes lingered on his hands, watching them with precision before your eyes found their way back to your glass, staring at the foam floating at the top of the glass. You brought the glass up to your lips letting the liquid burn down your throat.
Hobies eyes lit up with amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Calm down, love. The drink ain’ gonna run away from you.” He quipped, his fingers gently wrapping around your forearm pulling the drink down from your lips. Your body slightly tensed up as his warmth seeped into your skin and throughout your body, your eyes meeting his.
Hobie's amused smirk seemed to drop into a line when he noticed the change in the atmosphere. His eyes stuck on yours, yours on his.
The tension suddenly drowned out by the cackle of Yuri who was watching Flash flirt (and fail miserably) with some gals that sat a few seats away from the two of you. His hand quickly untangled itself from your arm finding its way back onto the counter. You let out a breath of relief thankful for brief distraction.
Flash trudged back to where the three of you were, his shoulders slumped with a small pout planted on his face after the girls left with scowls and disgust etched on their faces.
“No luck?” Yuri teased.
“Shut up.” Flash huffed, snapping his head away from her to which Yuri hummed smugly.
Hobie reassured Flash by giving him a small pat on his back whispering some words into his ear that seemed to lighten him up.
“Hey, up for some dare or drink?” Flash beamed suddenly, his movement more animated than before.
“What?” you tilt your head quizzically.
“Dare or drink, do the dare or chug a beer.” Flash summarized with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.
“Oh no, I should probably get back in a couple of minutes,” you interjected, waving your hands in the air dismissively.
Yuri frowned, “c'mon babe, my shift is almost over. It won't hurt you to have a little fun, y'know?”
“I really shouldn't-” You protested but quickly folded with Yuri's small pout the alcohol in your system. I'm so gonna regret this later.
—
“Chug, chug, chug!” The three chanted while your hazy eyes tried to focus on the mug of beer in front of you. This might've been your fifth drink of the night, but could you blame yourself? You were definitely NOT texting your fucking ex that you missed him (given by our dear Flash). Not in a million years, but it was more tempting than chugging another beer and inevitably using the next person near you as a vomit bucket.
“Fuck, 'm gonna vomit.” You slurred, putting the glass mug down on the marble counter. Somehow, even with four and a half beers in your system, you could kind of think properly.
Kind of.
“It's the beer or the dare, babe.” Yuri reminded, wiggling her finger.
“Mhm,” you pinched the bridge of your nose trying to rub the blur out of your eyesight. “I-I’m going to find the bathroom.” You shook your head, standing up clumsily. You swallowed the saliva that had built up in your mouth but it didn't help with your slurring at all.
You just whipped around and showed yourself the way towards the bathroom which you had no idea where the fuck it was simply disappearing into the crowd.
“That's not even the direction of the bathroom.” Yuri murmured, sighing defeatedly.
“So… who's going with her?” Flash raised an eyebrow, his eyes bouncing between Hobie and Yuri. The two stared back at him, making him raise his hands in the air defensively, “not it.”
It made both Hobie and Yuri roll their eyes. Yuri turned towards Hobie, opening her mouth to say something but Hobie interrupted her before she could.
“I'll go, ya both enjoy. If we don't return, we left, ‘ight?” Hobie gave them a curt nod and small goodbyes before he headed your way quickly just in case you were about to do something stupidly stupid and wouldn't be able to take it back.
Hobie strutted through the packed room, hands in pocket, eyes searching for a certain (h/c) headed individual. His height an advantage as he could see over the array of people. His nostrils taking in a whiff of the sweat and alcohol mixed in with the air, dancing bodies bumping against his.
Where did she go? He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes wandered over the room, skimming through the crowd but unable to spot you. You went in the complete wrong direction so you couldn't possibly have made it to the bathroom.
Should he call your name? Probably not, as tempting as it was, you weren't really a lost child.
He caught a glimpse of you – your back turned to him whilst you talked to two other girls. He doesn't remember introducing you to them. Maybe you knew them already? He pushed the thoughts aside, walking over towards you.
He tapped your shoulder, “Y/N-” only to freeze in his stance when he saw ‘you’ turn around.
“Huh?” The amber-eyed woman looked Hobie up and down, her eyes sparkling. “Sorry, can I help you?” She spoke softly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.
“Sorry love, thought you were somebody else.” He explained noticing her smile slip a little.
“Oh.” She murmured melancholy, plastering a fake smile on her face. Hobie nodded and quickly left before she could say anything else.
Something – Someone – suddenly slammed into his side, his hands reaching down and grabbing their waist to steady them.
He looked down, finding your hazy eyes melding with his, “you good?”
“Just a little… light-headed.” You reassured, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm unable to ignore the uneasiness in the back of your throat but you didn't see why he had to know that.
“You wanna get outta here?” Hobie suggested, watching you narrow your eyes at him before nodding and mumbling something he assumed was a yes.
He moved his hand up wrapping around your shoulder and leading you towards the elevator.
—
Ding.
The Elevator had reached the top, the metal doors sliding out revealing how the dark blue had taken over the sky, multiple glowing specks adorning the sky. What time was it? Where were you two going now? You wondered, your thoughts racing from one to another. At least they hadn't gone completely blank… yet.
Your body moved on its own — with the help of Hobie, of course. Otherwise you'd probably still be tossed around the crowd like a colorful toy among a group of children.
You'd rushed over dipped your head over a plant pot that busied the wall right next to the elevator when you reached it. Gagging and retching, expecting your half-digested lunch and almost 5 beers to make a quick reappearance but it never did.
“You feelin’ better?” The voice snapped you out of your musing.
“Nope,” you answered with a pop of the p. “I think… I think it's probably gotten worse actually.” Your answer was slow, trying to comprehend each syllable you spit out of your mouth.
“Eh, should've known better before dragging ya into a bar and making you chug beer.” He sighed, feeling you lean against him while he continued to steady your movement.
“Probably.”
“Definitely.”
“Did you enjoy at least?” Hobie asked, trying to make some good of the situation.
“Mhm.” You crooned, stumbling over your own foot but never making it to the floor. He twisted the door knob that probably would've broken down if the breeze of air was too fast. “So where do you live?”
“Eh… my apartment.” You answered.
He chuckled at your ominous answer, “and where would your ‘apartment’ be?”
Huh… your apartment? It was on street… Your thoughts went blank. Did you just forget where you fucking live? yes. Yes you did. But if you think hard enough– nope. nothing. Maybe you shouldn't have drank that much.
With how long you were silent for, Hobie realized the problem. “Ya forgot?”
“I forgot.”
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @the-kr8tor @missshelleyduvall @hobieszeze
Banner(s) by @/cafekitsune
#A Piercing for the Heart#A Piercing for the Heart Series#A Piercing for the Heart Chapter 2#hobie brown x body piercer! reader#hobie brown x fem!reader#hobie brown#across the spiderverse#atsv hobie#spider punk#hobie brown x reader#fanfic#hobie brown fanfiction#APFH#hobiebrown#hobie x reader#hobie brown x you#hobie x you#hobie brown fluff#rexlpost#spiderpunk x you#spiderpunk x reader#spiderpunk#spiderpunk x body piercier!reader#spiderpunk x fem!reader
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☆┆TEND TO MY WOUNDS !
SUMMARY: red alert! he’s injured! it’s alright, for the prefect of ramshackle is here to save the day.
CHARACTERS: leona, jade, jamil, rook, idia
(i spun a wheel to try and write other characters.. jamil and leona just love me teehee)
GENRE: fluff
WARNINGS: the boys get injured, but nothing is life threatening. — cursing — MENTIONS OF BLEEDING (not fatal)
ROMANTIC, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP
reader is g/n, reader is yuu
🦁┆LEONA KINGSCHOLAR
“shit! ow—“
leona groans, feeling the stinging pain of alcohol rubbed onto his forehead. spelldrive didn’t go as it usually did.
everything was normal. practice was going well, and everybody was doing the proper training regiments. it was all fun watching leona and everybody practice by a nearby tree. except leona wasn’t practicing this afternoon.
today, he felt like napping right beside you. he laid his head in your lap, sound asleep. this all goes south when some freshmen decide to mess around, sending the disc flying in your direction.
typically leona would’ve been able to divert it with magic, but feeling a little hazy from barely awakening, it hit him straight on the forehead.
now here you both are, present in the infirmary, leona sitting on the cot, and you being his own personal doctor. “i can’t believe the great leona kingscholar got hit by a spelldrive disc. it is truly an honor to witness it first hand.” you joke, causing him to roll his eyes.
“tch.. whatever— FUCK.” it’s funny to see leona in such a state. one where his tough guy act isn’t all the way up. you thought he’d brush off the pain like a man, but surprise! we learn something new everyday.
“haha.. wait here. i need to find bandages.” you walk over to the cabinet, only to find all the boxes of bandages empty. except for one. a bandaid box. you snicker at the sight of them and take a couple out of the box. leona raises a brow as he heard your giggling in the back til you made your way back towards him.
you stood in front of him and placed the bandaids on his forehead. he liked the close proximity. he likes being by your side. you caring for him like this is actually one of his deepest desires. he won’t ever say it aloud of course, but he hopes you take the hints.
“you are now officially cured.” you grin, finally applying the last bandaid. he stood up, looking you in the eyes. he wanted to thank you. wanted to thank you for helping him. wanted to thank you for caring enough about him to do this. to help him.
but leona being leona cannot say thank you. “..I don’t wanna owe you any favors so,” he pulls out his wallet from his pocket and throws it to you. you catch it, nearly dropping all the thaumarks inside on the floor. “go buy somethin’ while you’re at it.”
he ruffles your hair, walking out of the infirmary. you flip through the wallet, it barely closing due to the amount of cards and thaumarks inside. rich boy privileges go crazy. ruggie wasn’t kidding when he said leona was stinkin rich. all you could do was stand there, shocked.
leona walks back out to the field, hearing the team laugh as he approaches. he looks at them with a puzzled look, the laughing becoming unbearable. “oi, what’s so funny? mind tellin’?”
“cute bandaids ya got there, boss. shishishishi..” ruggie chuckles, looking at leona’s super cute and silly unicorn bandaids on his forehead. at first, he’s confused. then he rips a bandaid off and looks at the patterns.
start running <3
🐬┆JADE LEECH
“jade, stop moving!”
you sigh, trying to place a bandaid on jade’s cut. you wanted to help him cook today since mostro lounge has been extremely busy lately. azul had been working him to the bone, so he used his time off as a way to spend time with you.
only to end up back in the kitchen, but whatever. since you’re there, it’s all good. while chopping a mysterious vegetable, (it’s a mushroom..) he accidentally cut his finger. he wasn’t paying attention to where he was cutting. cause he was looking at you.
normally somebody would wince in pain, but jade is jade. so. “oh my, this is unexpected.” he says, as his blood gets on his gloves and contaminates the mushrooms. “oh my what— OH MY GOSH, JADE.” you yell, as he’s abnormally calm about the fact blood was all over the mushrooms.
so now he’s sitting at one of the barstools in mostro lounge as you try to patch up his finger. anytime the bandaid gets remotely close to the cut, he squirms and jerks his hand away. you can’t tell if he’s messing with you or if he’s just sensitive to touch because he still has his dumb polite smile.
“jade. stop. moving.” you grunt, trying to grab his wrist to hold his hand still. “fufu..” his stupid chuckle is usually very nice but it’s just growing irritating.
for some reason he still has the impulse to tease you. even when injured. all you want to do is care for him, so why is he making this so difficult?! is he waiting for something?
oh. that’s an idea.
“jade, may i see your hand?” you ask, putting the bandaid on the counter. he raises a brow, but complies nonetheless. “of course. do be gentle though, im wounded.” well no shit.
you held his hand gently, raising a finger up to your lips. you place a gentle kiss on his finger. not on the wound exactly, but near it. his eyes slightly widened and his cheeks tinted slightly red. he loses his composure for just a moment, giving you time to apply the bandaid onto his cut.
you smile in victory, standing up from your seat. “there, all better!” you winked at him before making your way back to the kitchen. he sat there, dumbfounded. how curious.. if that’s a way to get free kisses..
“oh dear, it appears i had just cut my lower lip. what a shame. it appears i am in need of some assistance.” this wasn’t even five minutes later.
🐍┆JAMIL VIPER
“you scream like a girl.”
you laugh as jamil looks away from you. he couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes. a little earlier, the both of you were sitting in the lounge of ramshackle as comfortable silence filled the air.
he was flipping through pages of a book while you leaned onto his shoulder, playing a game of some sort on your phone.
“..AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”
that silence was interrupted as you heard a high pitched scream next to you, turning your head to see jamil absolutely mortified and panicked.
“JAMIL?! WHAT IS—“ then you spotted it. the wretched cockroach crawling on the table. he shut his book and threw it at the table, missing. now he’s grabbing all nearby objects to kill the insect.
“JAMIL PLEASE CALM DOWN, PLEASE! FUCK, JAMIL—” he ended up using his magic, but used a lil too much. as you held him back, his leg bumped against the table, causing him to scurry back to the couch.
confirming that the roach had cleared the premises, you sat next to him and checked the bump on his leg. his breaths were heavy and a sweat was across his brow. you would’ve thought he looked insanely attractive if it weren’t for the incident just before.
now he’s embarrassed, his hood is pulled over, and he’s pouting as he looks away from you. “i think you got a small cut, but it should be fine. i’ll go get some bandaids!” you hum, getting up from the cushions to find the box of bandages.
he completely humiliated himself in front of you. he was weak in front of you. and he hates that. “im back and here to repair your boo-boo.” you came back with the box, sitting back down and opening it. you remove a bandaid and slowly apply it til you hear him mutter something.
“sorry.”
“hm? sorry, couldn’t hear ya. mind speaking up for me?” you heard him perfectly fine. he irks before speaking up, his tone hinted with annoyance. “sorry.”
“all is forgiven, my love.” you smile, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a hug. he sighs, reciprocating the hug and leaning onto you. “please forget you saw that..” he mumbles, his face practically burning.
you chuckle, playing with loose strands of his hair as the both of you now lied on the couch. “no promises..” he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, but placed a quick kiss on your cheek. he shuts his eyes, needing to recharge.
“mhm. love you too, jamil.” you whisper, allowing him to rest on your chest. he fell asleep in no time flat. let him rest. or even better yet, join him!
🏹┆ROOK HUNT
“how’d you fall?”
you ask, seeing as rook lied on the ground. i don’t know how to explain his pose, he’s just a theatre kid.
“never mind the details, ma chère. all that matters is that you had rushed to my rescue!” he smiles as you stood there. the most deadpan expression on your face. “i’ll just go get you bandages and not question it.” “merci!”
you rush to the infirmary, grabbing the bandages and rushing out. if nobody knew better, they’d all have assumed that rook was dead. he hasn’t moved an inch.
“where’d you injure yourself?” you ask, crouching down and inspecting his arms. “non, non. you must guess!” he laughs, sitting up right away. you groan as he initiated such an idea. “rook. im not going to guess—“
“if that is the case, ill be stuck in everlasting pain! it’d be unbearable.” he sighs dramatically, causing you to furrow your brow. “fine. did you injure your leg?” you grumble, checking each limb.
he shook his head, smiling like an absolute idiot. “here, allow me to give you a hint.” he grabs your hand guiding it to the place of the wound. of course he can’t do it without teasing you a little.
he places your hand on his shoulder, his hand, his neck, til eventually he stopped on his cheek. “my injury can be found around here.”
you look at his cheek, but there is no cut, scratch, or bruise to be seen. you raise a brow at him, but he has no shift in reaction. “rook, are you lying to me?” rook shook his head, looking you in the eyes. “I wouldn’t lie to you, mon amour. perhaps you need a closer look.”
before he could even explain what that meant, he pulled you towards him. causing you to fall onto him. “can you see it now?” he asks, staring at you lovingly.
you sigh, pulling a bandage out and placing it onto his lips. his eyes widened, but he wasn’t mad. not in the slightest! he wrapped his arms around you. taking this opportunity for a cuddle session.
despite your “annoyance,” you smiled and laughed slightly. “you’re impossible, rook.”
he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, humming happily as you spoke. his fingers intertwined with yours as the sun hit both of your figures. creating a scene resembling one of a fairytale.
💀┆IDIA SHROUD
“you can’t lock yourself into your room because of this.”
you slightly chuckle as you patch up idia’s knee. moments before, his PE class had to do the sprints. looks like he went to class on the wrong day.
while he was running, he tripped on a conveniently placed rock and fell on his knee. ortho quickly went to find you and bring you to idia so that you can comfort him.
he had tears coming from his eyes, which caused ortho to panic. you both carried him to the infirmary since he had an inability to walk. you situated him onto the cot and grabbed some bandages from the cabinets. “don’t worry niisan! the prefect will take good care of you!”
ortho chimed, trying his best to comfort his brother. idia felt his stress lessen, but that doesn’t change the immense pain he was in. “thank you, ortho. but i don’t im ever gonna to go outside again.”
he mumbles, causing ortho to pout. you come back with the bandages, smiling as you sat to the side of the cot. “im gonna have to go explain to coach vargas why you’re not here! hang tight, niisan!”
you waved to ortho, leaving just you and idia in the infirmary. “idia, you’re not going to die because of this.” you smile, placing the bandage onto his knee. idia groans, picking at his fingers. “i looked so cringe just now. definitely not my moment.”
“you didn’t look cringe, idia. you got hurt.” you grabbed his hand and held it in yours. he smiles slightly as you tried to reassure him. it was endearing to him. “thanks.. but i want to lock myself in my room for like ever after this..” he quickly mutters, hoping you wouldn’t hear that. surprise! you heard him.
“no idia, you can’t lock yourself in your room forever after this.” you sigh, realizing this was the man you fell in love with. “what? you can come too. you’d be free from all the normies surrounding you.” he stated bluntly.
“..no.” you hesitantly said, squeezing his hand slightly. you both sat in the infirmary for a few more moments before you sat up and let go of his hand. “can you stand?”
“no.” he quickly replies, not even bothering to try. you stare at him before exhaling deeply. “i’ll bring your switch then. wait here.” he smiled as he watched you exit the room. he appreciated how understanding you were. how you knew what he wanted before he even had to ask. ..well, most of the time anyway.
when you came back, you sat next to him on the cot. you both played smash bros together, playing until the console runs out of batteries. lucky for him, his console lasts for almost an entire week before it runs out of power.
let me just say, he beat your ass in smash bros.
A/N: this sat in my drafts for a very long time. i had to brainstorm A LOT to see how idia could get injured.
date published: 1/27/24
© temiizpalce — don’t steal or copy my work!
#twisted wonderland#disney twst#twisted wonderland fluff#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#jade leech x reader#jamil viper x reader#rook hunt x reader#idia shroud x reader#twst fluff#twst#twst wonderland
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GLASS TABLE GIRL ! ～ BLADE . ❛ i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.
˖ ⁺ ⫾ SHOW NOTES fem!reader ❱ guitarist!blade ❱ groping ❱ reader is a groupie ❱ PWP!!! ❱ (reader is intoxicated so technically) dubcon ❱ spanking ❱ degradation ❱ clit n nipple slapping ❱ ig ooc!blade but who cares ❱ choking/asphyxiation ❱ size kink ❱ dacryphilia ❱ outdoor/public sex ❱ exhibitionism ❱ spit ❱ face-fucking ❱ dirty talk ❱ reader has 0 self respect ❱ name calling ❱ overstimulation ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (stay safe) ❱ clit pinching ❱ hair pulling ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ cumplay(?) ❱ no aftercare ❱ minors & dc antis do not interact.
˖ ⁺ ⫾ CREDITS i have not written a fic in so effing long nd i was high writing this so excuse my rustiness :c but i have risen from my grave so let’s rejoice nonetheless ! !blade is on my mind 24/7 n i just want to be used n abused by him omfg turn me OWT! i listened to one of the girls by the weeknd literally the entire time i wrote this sooo feel free to listen while reading ^_^ i was js writing as i went so ts is very pwp sorryyy . . i’m gonna try to be more active on here i js need time to write so in the meantime pls show that my works would be appreciated here =( likes & reblogs are so GREATLY APPRECIATED ! ! ! if u don’t like, pls scroll cs comm guidelines r so mean to creators T_T
˖ ⁺ ⫾ RUN TIME 7.5k+ words . (of pure filth)
IF SOMEBODY ASKED you who your favorite artist was, you would say Ren—known by his moniker: BLADE. There was nothing you didn't like about this man; everything about him fundamentally and ultimately was the object of a girlish obsession. You knew all of his songs front to back, followed his social media on every single platform, and never missed a single piece of media uploaded about him. Your life was built around his style: dark and mysterious and enigmatic. He was your number one, unmatched and unchanged.
He was a hard man to come by. He frequently held small shows, with no more than twenty-thousand people on the high end. It was impossible to go, and every time you tried, your chance miserably passed you up. But this time, June twenty-third, twenty-twenty-three, you were right there, in the middle of the pit, only mere feet away from Blade. It was your first time seeing him in person by the grace of your best friend who surprisingly snagged tickets, and you’d never been more grateful in your life.
Blade was ethereal. The concert videos you’d seen over the years did not compare to the image in front of your face. It was dark, the main lights being spotlights shone on his pearly, perspiring, black, skin-tight silk-clothed skin, and dim red LED lights on the set behind him. His fingers ran effortlessly across his guitar, an inexplicably attractive riff and tone singing from the instrument. You felt like you were in Heaven, your eyes never leaving the show before your eyes. It was hot and uncomfortable in the pit but it was worth it. So worth it because he looked at you: taking you in with an unfaltering stare. His lip slipped between his teeth, and he shook his head, throwing stray locks to the back, and God, you felt as though you needed to be bolted to the ground with the way you wanted to jump on the stage. He walks up to the microphone, the most gut-wrenchingly hot vocals sliding off of his tongue. His eyes were closed, smudged eyeliner emphasizing his fluttering, long lashes, and his lips were spit-slicked, parting and pursing with each sultry lyric leaving. They were plump and rosy as if they were asking to be kissed—it was a sight to behold.
You sang your heart out, dragging your hand from waving in the air down a curvy path on your body, going from your shoulder to your chest to below where Blade’s sight would reach. You turned to your friend and recited the lyrics with a big smile and following giggle, all to turn your attention back to the stage and lock eyes with him. Your thighs clamped together just at the narrowed and burning gaze he delivered. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted a man more than you do right now.
Your friend found a way closer to the stage and you wedged your way between the crowd, finding yourself so close that the speakers were banging on your eardrums. You could feel the music in your bones, and all you could think of to describe it was hot and heavy. Maybe it was all of the pregaming you and your friend did before the concert, or the condensed heat and gyrating bodies, but you were so hot. You wipe your sweaty skin as you sway to the beginning of the next song, taking out your phone to begin recording.
Blade leans into the mic, muttering lowly, “I want you all to sing.” He pulls the microphone out of the stand, letting his guitar hang off of his shoulder from the strap. And that’s when he makes his way to where you stand, muttering small “yeah”’s and “good job”’s into the mic as the crowd collectively sings. He kneels right before you, “Sing.” he says into the mic.
You go wide-eyed—cute, he thinks—but you start singing. You grab an open portion of the microphone, leaning in as close as possible and reciting the lyrics of the song just as you were told. All eyes and cameras were on you, and that included Blade, who held an intense gaze on you the entire verse. When you finish the crowd erupts in cheers and screams, and he pulls away, finishing the song. You turned to your friend and screamed about your main character moment, dancing and singing even happier into her recording phone. This was the best night of your life.
For the rest of the concert, you had the time of your life. Blade ends the show with a final guitar solo, the entire audience silent as he wrecks the strings and pours his heart into his vocals. He briefly spoke to his fans, thanking everyone for coming out and heading backstage as everyone began to clear out. And all he could think about was that girl who his eyes couldn't help but wander toward, and to whom his thoughts dedicated his innuendos. He remembers the sign you held at the beginning of the show: “BLADE ♡WNS M(Y)E (HEART) ♡”. Your eyes honed filth that your natural disposition didn’t and he longed for it. He held bated breath as he informed his security about you, requesting you be located and brought to him and they replied with “We’ll try our best, sir.”
It was an after-concert tradition for Blade to hit up a local club, especially in situations like this where it was his last stop. He hoped he’d find you there, but he knew you would, especially if you were as big of a fan as you looked.
“Yukong, just thirty minutes! Please!!” you pleaded, trying to pull your friend into your opinion. She shook her head no, “I can’t! I have to go home! I’m so tired and you know…” you stop your friend there, not wanting to hear about her boyfriend.
“Fine. I’m still going though, text me when you get home.” you didn’t want Yukong to go home. But arguing was pointless, and only time was being put to the test, not her stubbornness. You knew from your years as a Blade fan that he always went to the club after a concert to meet fans, and some rumors even suggested ulterior motives, so you wanted to go. Yukong frowned at your flat expression but still hugged you, waving at you as she got in her car to go home. You’d be flying solo, but you had faith in yourself.
So you make your way over to the nearest club via taxi, praying that this is the one that Blade would visit. You weren’t all too familiar with the place, its name, Starskiff Haven, only being one you’ve heard in passing. Regardless, your thoughts were assured by the abundance of fighting and pushing bodies to get in the door—and when your phone lit up, a Twitter notification from a Blade Updates page noting his location, Starskiff Haven, you smiled widely, making your way to the line.
It was way too long and you weren’t interested in waiting all night—you had to meet Blade. A time like this is when Yukong comes into hand with her very stern persuasion, something that’s near impossible to deny. But she left, and you’d have to figure out a way in. And a thought immediately came to mind.
You walked to the front of the line, breathing in deeply and psyching yourself up for how incredibly you were about to embarrass yourself. When you exhale, you book it, beelining straight into the club, right past security. You immediately shift your demeanor, blending into the crowd seamlessly as security guards rush in, looking around for you. Hiding behind the most cluelessly drunk girl, you make your way to the bar, immediately ordering a sidecar. It packed a punch and the combination of how many shots you had earlier, it’d be just enough to get you through whatever you were about to do.
You turn around in the swivel stool, taking in the atmosphere and coasting the area for any sighting of Blade. The club was darker than the concert but heavily illuminated with hazy, colorful LEDS and much, much louder, filled to the brim with chatter and deafening bass-boosted music. Your drink was brought to you moments later, and with a big sip, you raked your eyes over the club once again. You could see bodies grinding on the main floor, the DJ bopping his head as his hands moved diligently across his DJ controller, couples making out and slipping into cornered areas, and friend groups recording and taking pictures. It was a lively environment, sure, and from the strength that beat on your tongue, established by incredibly skilled bartenders—but you weren’t looking for a new clubbing spot, you were looking for Blade.
And Blade was looking for you. Swimming through the unforgivingly hot crowd for you. He wasn’t itching to have you, he was itching to take you. Every time he closed his eyes he was brought back to his time on stage and how you danced in the audience. How your lips pushed out his lyrics and how your hands couldn’t stop waving in the air and running on your skin. How you swiped off sweat from your forehead and fanned yourself with your sign. And how you couldn’t keep your star-filled eyes off of him. Every light reflection off of your eyes showed desperation and neediness. You were begging to be picked without ever uttering a word, and he was not one to ignore indulgence. You needed him and he wanted you—so where are you?
Perched on that blue-velvet cushioned swivel stool. Sipping whatever remaining contents of your sidecar. And when he saw you, you saw him. You locked eyes and each plastered ill-intended smirks across your faces. And while you had his attention, you brought the glass to your lips, smacking them open and running your tongue along the sugar rim, collecting the sweetness on your tongue. You sucked on your tongue, rolling your eyes and he swears the “Ahh” leaving your lips is audible from his distance. He stayed still even as you slapped down your money on the counter, hopping down and disappearing into the crowd.
You make your way to him quickly, holding onto your rapidly rising chest and laughing at yourself. You were on a roll of unbelievable behavior, but it seemed to be a clean stroke because you were yet to meet a roadblock. And in a very blurry couple of minutes, the goal you’d been working toward was in the palm of your hand—literally.
You danced your way to Blade when you were finally close to him, sliding up against his body sweetly. He was tall and so sturdy against you, but he was smooth like butter as he synced to your movements and danced behind you. His hands were on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he pushed up against you. Your exchange was wordless but it spoke volumes. It felt like a dream, entirely too good to be true but you indulged anyway, grinding against him. A gasp escapes your mouth as his left hand unabashedly grapes your tit, squeezing roughly and experimentally. His other hand trails dangerously on the band of your shorts and you let your head fall back on his shoulder, “I'm your biggest fan…”
He laughs at your declaration, leaning to press his lips feather-lightly at the shell of your ear, “Are you now?” you nod immediately, pressing into him. “‘Blade owns me’.” he mocks your sign, and laughs when he feels you slightly tense under his touch.
“I picked you,” and again, he leans down to your ear, “Are you happy, slut?” The word is so mean but it sounds so good from him. You nearly moan, nodding eagerly, as if complying with his word came with a medal. You were a slut, so willing to give it up as soon as he laid eyes on you. And you weren’t afraid to go low to get his attention, doing just about anything to be his for the night.
Fangirls like you are nothing new to Blade and as a man who looks like he does, it comes with the territory. He can read you like a damn book, cover to cover with ease because despite how enigmatic and indifferent to the norm you may try to appear, you wear your whole being on your sleeve. You do everything in your power to be somebody you're not. Your life revolves around who you think you should be and not who you are. A lot of girls are born with “it”: an innate ability to be the one wanted and desired, but you? Your “it” is manufactured, the blueprint drawn out by girls who are it. You're stuck in a limbo created by your age: too old to not be settling down, but too young to not live your life, and you try to make a box for yourself, being the exception to a path laid out for you. You're lost in the life you lead, and with the way you're dancing so shamelessly and needily on him, Blade knows you. You’re the type of girl who sees getting used as a flex, and despite signing an NDA or promising to never say anything, you’ll tell this person and that person that you got to sleep with the Blade; that the Blade picked you. Women like you are a cancer in the industry. Pests that are incessant and damn near impossible to get rid of. He knows you won't be any different than those before you, but there’s a desire to take you that he cannot ignore.
It’s his natural instinct as a man—or he’s just a shitty person. Perhaps a combination of both, because all he can think about is putting you to use. You’re making it so easy, moaning into the air under the thick remixed song the DJ is spinning, grinding against him, and holding his hand on your tit—you want him, and you’re giving yourself to him on a silver platter. You have a clear lack of respect for yourself, but luckily for you, that’s Blade’s type in women.
The atmosphere seems to be getting heavier, and it feels like time is getting slow and choppy. Now your arms are around Blade’s neck and his large hands are holding onto your ass, and you’re so close, you can feel your chests brushing with each breath you take. The world around you is nothing but background. It doesn’t exist to you, it doesn't matter to you. Not when you have Blade, the literal man of your dreams, right in your palm, and all he's looking at is you.
You feel so special. So wanted and so desired. You feel all eyes on you like you're the main attraction and everybody can’t help but watch and weep, wishing to be you. Your ego is skyrocketed and every embarrassing thing you’ve done tonight doesn't matter to you anymore because it paid off. Your eyes locked and the space between you closed. Your heart synced with the booming beat of the current song playing. You lean in, pressing your hands at the back of his neck and pulling him in. And you kiss him. You kiss Blade.
Blade kisses you back. He tightens the grip on your ass and you moan into his mouth, letting him infiltrate your mouth. He sucks on your tongue, smiling against you when he feels you push up on your tippy toes and hears you whimper into his mouth. He kisses you back. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, pecking your lips once more before moving to your cheek, then to your jaw, then to your neck. His hands are groping at you, roughly grabbing your ass, then your waist, then your breasts. “Are you wet?”
He says it so only you can hear it. You nod. “How wet?” He moves back up to your jaw, placing another kiss. You flutter your lashes, meeting his gaze, “So wet. All for you.”
At your response, he groans, pulling off of you. He chuckles when you pout at him. You’re just what he needs for this night. He grabs your chin, holding your face and leaning down, your lips brushing against his own. “I'm going to go smoke.” and he tells you this for a reason.
You watch with the biggest smile on your face as he sifts through the crowd, heading out of a side door. It was now or never.
Quickly, you rush to the bathroom to freshen up. You fix your hair, digging into your pocket and fishing out your lipgloss, reapplying, and you fan yourself, cooling down to not look a flustered mess. And just as quick as you ran in, you ran out toward the side door, immediately looking both ways for Blade. You smell smoke distantly and turn right, and a few paces down he stood, leaning against the brick wall of the neighboring restaurant. He's next to stacks of old wood and crates and you smile, thinking about whatever was about to go down between you.
You step in front of him and he smiles, taking you in once again. He blows his smoke in your face, tapping the ash off the cigarette before smashing the butt into the wall behind him. “Hi,” you say. He says nothing back, just slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you in. The kiss you share this time is messy and he now asserts control, nipping your bottom lip when he feels you go weak and pulls back.
He rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand for him. This is the first time all night he’s seen you properly, in moderately okay lighting. Your jean mini-skirt is tight to you, accentuating the curve and fullness of your ass, and teases what’s beneath with your plump thighs poking out and how it rides up slightly. Your skin-tight baby tank is seemingly one with your figure, bringing out the best in you and making him smile with the “I ♡ BLADE” print across your chest. Your thigh-high boots did nothing when you were near him—he was looming and caging. He was intimidating and arousing, and with the lustful gaze you shared, the climax of your day was steadily approaching.
“Take it off.” He looks down at your chest and you get the memo; immediately grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head. “Slow. Take your time…” And you listen, letting your body swivel as you remove the shirt. You unhook the clasp of your bra, and before your boobs could spill out of the confines, he grabs you and wedged you between him and the wall he previously leaned on.
The front of your body is slapped on the cold brick, but you’re swallowed in warmth as he presses against you, grinding his hard-on against your ass. One hand grabs your wrists, and the other turns you around. You look at him innocently, shivering at the breeze that blows down the alley. You can smell him: woody, smokey, and expensive. Yet here he was, pressing you up against a brick wall in a random alley. “You’re such an easy slut, y’know.”
“Bet you been thinking about this; daydreaming about your favorite artist pinning you and trashing you like the fucking whore you are.” he presses against your front, nipping at your jaw. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
You whimper, “Fuck me. Take me. Make me yours.”
“Tell me.” He growls - your answer not sufficing. “Want you to break me,”
“Always fantasized…wanting you to shove your dick down my throat and use it mindlessly and mercilessly.” He begins to kiss down your throat again, licking the tender skin. He smirks when you stop talking, your breath hitching and your head craning backward to open the expanse of your neck. He starts biting on your newfound sweet spot when you begin again, “Spit in my mouth and force me to swallow it with your cum,”
He gets to your chest, immediately taking a nipple between his teeth. He listens to you wince and whine as he does, pushing your chest into his face. “And make me beg you to fuck me. Teasing me…fuck—pinching me, pulling my hair until I'm teary-eyed and begging…”
“...And then you fuck me like you hate me; choking me, slapping me, degrading me all while I thank you stupidly.”
“You’re just fucking disgusting,” he mumbles around your nipple. He lets your hands go, palming your free tit immediately. His eyes are narrow as you whine when he twinges the bud roughly. “Put so much thought into this…you’re a weirdo slut.”
You shake your head, breathing out heavily to refute his claim, “Nuh-uh—your biggest fan.” you correct.
He laughs at you. You’re much more fun than he thought, and a lot less shameless, too. You're throwing all of your big cards out; this is your go-big or go-home moment, and while you have him here, you’ll bare yourself wholly because if not now, then not ever. Blade has to commend your patience though. You're letting him toy around, graze around your unknown territory and feel you out. You’re needy but obedient. Tired of waiting but understanding. Absolutely fucking shameful and proud, but eager to be good—so maybe he was wrong about you. You do have an “it”: an innate ability to be the perfect fucktoy.
When he lets you go, he immediately instructs you to get on your knees. And you listen immediately. The cold gravel digs into your bare knees and it's incredibly uncomfortable, yet you don’t utter a word. Your nipples are hard and pebbled and are probably so sensitive, yet you say nothing. You only sit before him, fingers dancing on the exposed thigh as you look up at him, waiting to be put to use.
So he slaps you. As you told him to—he slaps you, and his hand is heavy coming against your skin. It sounds off for what felt like possibly hundreds of miles, and your face doesn’t sting, but it hurts. The skin is heating up from the impact and your head turns to the side, hair falling against your face, yet you don’t utter a word. He grabs the back of your head, forcing you to look at him and dangerously smiling when your teary eyes look up at him wide and thankfully. “Pull my cock out,” he instructs, letting you go and standing up straight.
You get to work on his belt, undoing it swiftly, and then you unbutton his pants. You tease yourself: slowly pulling the zipper down, and when pulling his pants down to his ankles, you palm him softly, gently patting his throbbing cock and staring at the growing wet spot in his underwear. You kiss the wet spot, and then you kiss it again, and again until you suck lightly on it while making eye contact with him. You moan at the very faint taste, fluttering your eyes shut, and finally sliding your hand under the band of his underwear, holding his dick.
Blade hisses at your touch, bucking slightly into your hold at the initial contact. Usually, he’d curse you out at this point for going so slow, but he’s letting it slide this time; allowing you to take control and show him how worth it and nasty you really are.
He’s big. He’s thick—your hand can just barely wrap around the entire shaft, and as you lift him to unsheath him from his boxers, you feel how heavy he is. And hard. So fucking hard.
You gawk at his cock like a kid in a candy store, staring at his leaking slit intensely—almost as if you're waiting. “Go ahead; show me how big of a fan you are.”
You kiss his tip, the bead of precum smearing on your lips. Smacking your lips apart suggestively, you wrap your right hand around the base, applying tightness and pressure as you find the right grip, and when you do, you finally lick a clean stripe across the head. Your tongue sweeps up the new milky droplet spilling out, and you contently hum at the taste, making him groan in response. You lick from the angry tip all the way to his trimmed base, then back up again until you’ve teased every side of him and located his sensitive vein.
If anybody would have told you that all you dreamed about would be coming to fruition—all by mere luck and chance—you wouldn’t believe it. And you still don't; even as you spit a thick bead of your saliva on his cock and then massage it in with your tongue, swirling all around the sensitive head. But it’s real because he moans out for you as you finally take him in, the throb getting heavier as he sits on your tongue and your lips hug him tight.
You begin your ministrations: toying with his balls lightly as you bob up and down, going as far as you could. You tried your best to take him all in. You stretched your mouth wide around him until it felt like your mouth was going to rip at the corners and until it felt like all you could do was sputter and leak drool around him. Tears brimmed in your eyes and each time you blinked them back, keeping a pretty smile on your face every time you came up for air. Your lipgloss was mixed in with spit, and clear tear streaks had already begun to run their course with your base makeup, but you didn't stop. You were moaning incessantly, suffocating his dick in your intense vibrations that had him moaning and grunting.
When you come up from your nth deepthroat attempt, it's not for air, but to breathlessly huff out “Fuck my face…please,” And since you asked so nicely…
“Blink twice if it gets to be too much.” You open your mouth as wide as you could, sticking your tongue out. He pulls your hair back for you, yanking your head back and spitting on your tongue. His eyes tell you not to move, so you don’t, keeping eye contact with him as he wraps his other hand around your own, guiding your smaller hands up and down his shaft. He shudders, “F-fuck…’m so fuckin’ hard…”
And then he slides onto your tongue, not wasting any time before bottoming out in your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise, and your unprepared gags speak volumes to your shock. But that doesn't deter you from wrapping your lips around him. And from there, he pulls out, pulling your head back and then pushing you back down as he thrusts his hips forward. He curses under his breath before picking up his pace, thrusting so hard that his grip tightens on your hair to hold you properly in place, fucking roughly into your face. You can only choke and sputter, having already taken your hands from around his dick and digging crescent nail shapes into his thighs. The sounds eliciting from the two of you are so nasty and filthy. His balls slap at your chin, your voice rings out from around his girth, and his moans echo around the world. You can’t take it but you’re doing a great job of trying. He slaps your face again, pulling out and hitting his tip on your tongue. “Keep your fucking eyes on me,”
“If you can do that, I'll cum all down your throat and all over your pretty fucking face, okay?” You nod eagerly, and as an incredibly degrading action of praise and acceptance, he slaps his spit-slicked dick against your cheek a few times. “Good girl.” Butterflies swarm in your stomach at his praise.
When Blade slides in, he smacks against your face. He goes to the very hilt, pushing his way to the depths of your throat roughly. Your nose is pressed up against his pelvis, and your cheeks are catching stray tears. But this is consistent as he begins thrusting, using you per your request. He grunts out each time his tip hits the back of your throat, thrusting so roughly and meanly into you. Again, you feel like all you can do is choke and gag, spilling slobber and precum mix back down his length. It’s fucking filthy and the loud squelching and impact noises hit your ears nastily, yet you can’t help but squirm and attempt to grind for friction to subdue the need throbbing in your clit.
Above you, the man is falling apart. His hips stutter every now and then and his voice is fucking endless. His long hair sticks to his sweaty forehead and sides of his neck, and it looks damn near intentionally placed from how beautiful he looks. The outdoor lights are like distant illuminators; glowing behind him softly—almost angelically. His eyebrows are knitted together and he struggles to keep his eyes every time he reaches the back of your throat and you start gagging. It’s beyond pleasurable. Blade isn't sure if it’s because of all the tension the two of you have built up, or if it's because he hasn't had any action in the last 3 weeks because of his neverending schedule, or if it’s because your mouth is fucking amazing, but he can't keep himself together. His chest starts heaving faster as he comes close to his high, his knees beginning to buckle, and his stomach caving.
You flick your tongue on the underside of his cock as much as you can and glue your eyes to his, seeing his release breaking him down inch by inch. “Fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!” He announces, throwing his head back.
He stills in your mouth and you take the opportunity to suck harshly on his tip, swirling your tongue around it like it’s the sweetest lolly you’ve ever tasted. He pulls out of your mouth, and you vigorously stroke his cock, so focused and determined to milk him dry. He leans forward, slapping his palm against the wall behind you for stability as he cums. He moans so prettily as he paints your face, the warm ropes making you hum contently. You give him no break, sucking his tip one last time to make sure you get the most out of what he’s given you.
Blade catches his breath, standing up straight soon after and condescendingly cooing at the mess made on your face. He picks up a glob as he sweeps his thumb over your cheek, sliding the digit in your mouth. He presses on your tongue, finding pleasure in how you swallow your sounds under a layer of gagging, but how you never tear your eyes off of him. He does this until you’ve cleaned off your face—but he's not done with you.
You're finally allowed off of your aching knees. You're sure the gravel will leave an indent from how long you were down there. He pinches your pebbled nipples, smirking as you yelp. “What was it that was next? Making you beg..making you earn my cock in you?” you nod rapidly, backing into the wall for stability as he toys with your very sensitive tits. “Show me how you beg then.”
You put your hands on his shoulders to help you stand up, feeling so weak all of a sudden. Your voice cracks as you try to speak, meek little whimpers flowing out as he works your body expertly—like he knows what gets you going. “Please…fuck–Please fuck me, I need you so bad…!”
A shrill yelp is chased out of your throat when his palm cracks against one of your boobs, “Is that all you got? Try again.”
So you do. “Need you to fuck me, Blade. I wanna be used by you, broken–please, I'll do anything!”
“Not good enough. Again.”
“Please fuck me like the slut I am! I need to be full of you, need to have you fuck me ragged and dumb so all I think of is you!” you pitch up your voice, breathing it all out in one breath.
Pitiful. Another smack. “Again.”
“I'm so needy for you, please! It hurts–I need you so much, it hurts! Please…”
And he's heard enough. His right hand slides up to your neck, forcing you against the wall. His grip is tight, fingers pressing into the sides and you have to fight for your eyes to not roll to the back of your head. “You must not want me as bad as you acted like you did…”
“I do! I do!” You interject, but your voice is weak and small—nothing in comparison to his deep and lust-saturated tone. “Then act like you do. Beg.”
He runs his other hand up your thigh, cupping your cunt. Your panties are soaked, and he can feel the heat radiating off of you. He pushes the fabric to the side, running two fingers through your folds and you swear you almost fell out then and there. You'd gone teased and untouched all night—you were beyond ready.
“Pussy is fucking soaked…” he mumbles, letting his index and middle finger twirl through your folds, getting closer and closer to your clit. “You want me here? To fuck your sloppy pussy until you're cumming your brains out?”
Your eyes start to roll and he can feel the pulse intensify in your cunt. That's exactly what you wanted. “Say it. Say ‘I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade’. Say it,”
You part your lips, and he slightly loosens the grip on your throat, “Wan–want…I want my sloppy pussy…” You get shy with your words, and he delivers a slap to your clit. The stimulation has you buckling over. You feel like his hands on you are going to be the death of you. “Say it.”
With the courage finally built up, “I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade! Please, I need it s’bad…feel like I'm gonna fucking die!” leaves your lips easily like spreading butter on toast. His lips that you never got enough of tasting quirk up into his signature smirk. He lets you go, pushing you against the wooden crates and flipping up your jean skirt.
“There you go; atta-fucking-girl.” he practically rips your panties off of you, slapping your pussy just for the hell of it. He cringes at the sound it makes and laughs cruelly at your whimpering. He presses up against you, his semi-hard dick pressed against your ass, and he wraps his arm around you and shows you the coat of your arousal that paints his fingers. “Spit.”
With your spit and abundance of slick collected on his fingers, Blade strokes his cock, going until he’s near painfully hard. The sounds he elicits make your pussy clench around nothing, needing to be satiated so desperately. “Are you ready? There’s no going back.”
This is somehow the sweetest moment for you. Your heart swells and you can only sheepishly nod, wiggling your hips eagerly. “Never been more sure about anything in my life. Ruin me.”
Ask once more, and you shall receive once more. His cock is swiped through your folds and collects a considerable amount of your arousal. He lines up at your entrance, watching you brace yourself with a smile ingrained into his face. He pushes in with a sharp inhale, biting his tongue at the feel of your tightness. Your pussy sucks him right in and—fuck. Warm and soft and tight, he could cum right now.
Your face crinkles up and you grip tightly onto the wooden crates in front of you. You’ve dreamt of this for so long—touched yourself at night to the thought and it's finally happening. He's inside of you, stretching you out, sinking in and in and in, inch by inch until he buries himself deep in your guts, until his tight and heavy balls are touching your folds. You're so sensitive you feel like you're ready to cream already, and you need it, need him, and need more. You grind your hips back on him, exhaling thickly as you rest your head against your forearm. “So fucking ready for me…”
His hand cracks down on your ass. It hurts so well and you wince, arching your back further. He sighs, kneading your skin softly. Then he pulls out, inching out until only the tip sits idly in you. You turn around to look at him, and doing that ignites his fire.
Your face is pathetic and fucked out already. Eyebrows knitted together and your eyes heavy, hardly staying open. Your lips are parted yet folded into a small frown, and perspiration rests at your hairline. You egg him on to slam into you, and he watches your frown drop into a wide ‘o’ shape, your eyes fluttering. So he does it again. And your lip now slips between your teeth. And again. And you drop your head back onto your arms.
And so Blade keeps up this pace, gradually going faster as the pit in his stomach urges him to do so. Your sounds are now uncontrollable—they fly out of you like a skipping record, incoherent babbles, and sinful moans. Each collision of your bodies elicits a visceral, wet slap that echoes off the walls of the alleyway. People around the world could probably hear what you're doing, and you're not sure if that bothers you…if the thought of a curious passerby walking down this alley naïvely would be an issue. If anything, it makes you get louder, your throat not getting to rest.
He hits you again, groaning when your pussy clenches around him. “You’re so fucking loud– you want somebody to find us?” Yes, that is what you want to say. But you moan out louder, shaking your head no. He hits you again. “Don’t lie to me,”
“You’re a fucking painslut,” he spits at you. He wraps his arm to reach your clit, immediately finding the bud and pinching it. Your knees go weak and he stabilizes you against him by pushing you further into the crates in front of you. You sniffle and whimper, presumably spilling tears down your filthy fucking face but doing nothing but asking for more. You've gotten so wet, dripping everywhere messily and Blade only cringes his face up with each wet collision. You're so nasty, so filthy, letting a stranger who you parasocial bonded yourself to defile you in public. He's feeding into your crazed delusions, but he’d honestly rather be doing nothing else. When he pinches your clit again your body shakes. Your knees buckle again and from the waist up you're basically limp. He feels you tighten around him and he sucks his teeth, parting your ass to peer at the milky ring forming around the base of his cock. “Did you just fucking cum?” Yes, you did. And you felt like Heaven doing it.
“You came ‘cause I pinched your clit…” he does it again and you jolt up, whining for him to stop. “So if I slap it…” he slaps it, eyeing you for your reaction. “Or rub on it like I love you…” his fingers run circles on your bud, feeling you get impossibly tighter around him. “So fucking easy.”
He resumes his thrusts like he never stopped—slamming into you unapologetically and now additionally, rubbing on your cute, abused clit. He's not going to last long at this rate. Your pussy gushes around him like a running river and the noises have gotten even nastier. Squelching and the occasional puffs of air escaping…you’re a mess.
“Love this fucking cunt,” he praises while pinching your clit. His free hand that rested on the small of your back is now holding onto your neck, forcing you to stand upright against him. Blade is lean but muscular. His arms flex and you feel his abs every time your bodies get close enough. His strong thighs touch yours and it's like you feel his entire body weight every time he pushes into you. “So good, ‘s so fucking good, Blade!”
The man laughs at your outburst. He angles his hips differently, trying so hard to find your sweet spot to get you creaming again. “Yeah?” he asks, tightening his grip on your throat. “Mhm-!” you concur.
“Where?” He’s sure he's found it, and he drives his hips up, groaning happily once he feels your gummy walls contract around him. “Here?”
Your head nods rapidly. “Yes, yes, yes–fuck! Right there, oh my fucking God!”
Neither of you are going to last. Blade’s balls are so tight and the way your pussy hugs him is even tighter. You suck him in like you never want him to leave, but your over-stimulated squeals and shaking thighs suggest otherwise. He’s found your sweet spot and is recklessly abusing it, going all or nothing. The way he toyed with your clit like a kitten pawing at a toy was too much—it started to hurt, to throb endlessly as your stomach knotted and your hole drooled. His grip on your neck was the icing on the cake. You felt like you could no longer breathe — like his thrusts were knocking the wind out of you and him choking you was keeping it out. Every little thing he did pushed you closer and closer to the edge.
He was even more merciless than before. Blade fucked into you harder, rougher, and faster than before, and you chalked that up to his orgasm catching up to him. You listen to his songs on repeat all the time but never have you heard him sing more beautifully than now as he digs your pussy out. You were really blessed with this night, and now it is coming to a very eventful end.
“‘M gonna fucking cum–!” You announce, and Blade nods his head in agreement. He slaps your cunt one last time, his fingers covered in your juices now tweaking at one of your nipples. “Me…me too, fuck.”
He leans into your ear, “Make me cum in this fucking pussy,” a throaty moan breaks his sentence, and you moan back, feeling it coming. “So close, so close…!”
It's this contraction that has Blade falling apart. He thrusts into you one last time, his eyes shooting wide open as he cums deep in you. He moans gutturally and shakily, feeling you clench tighter as you orgasm as well. His hips stutter in you and your hips ride back onto him as you both come down from your highs. The alley is now deafeningly silent and you flush in embarrassment from how loud you must have been. He lets your neck and tit go, using one hand to now spread your ass and pull out his cock. Your pussy is puffy and shiny, and when he’s out, he watches with a burning gaze as your mixture of cum starts to slightly spill out.
He groans, slapping your ass one last time. You two finally separate, and you turn around to look at him. You're sure he doesn't look as fucked up as you do, but even so disheveled and fucked out and sweaty as he is, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter. He pulls up his boxers and pants, fixing his shirt before he looks over at your mostly naked frame. He comes over to you, pulling down your skirt, and his doing this makes you feel less like a one-night stand, and more like one of his girls.
Being so close to you, he breathes you in. You smell like sex, but beneath that is a layer of whatever fruity perfume you sprayed on you, and it's delectable; so he kisses you. It's something he doesn't usually do, and he wouldn't have done it for you, but you entrance him. Perhaps it's because you're what he likes— he's met his match.
But you kiss each other passionately like you were trying to reignite the flame you just spent God knows how long fucking out. Your tongues are well acquainted with one another, swirling and bumping and riding past one another knowingly. He pulls away from you, looking in your eyes as he lets spit fall onto your tongue once again. You smile happily as you swallow it—God, you could do this forever. “Come back with me,”
You didn't expect him to say that. You blink your eyes a few times in disbelief. This night can't be any more unreal. He notices your confusion and smiles, “Is that a no–”
“–No! I'll come with you!” you don't know where he’s taking you, or what it means to go with him. You do know that you’ll have a lot to tell Yukong, NDA or not, and that you’ll never forget this day.
Smiling again, this time devilishly, Blade pulls away from you, pinching your cheek. “Good girl.”
#honkai star rail smut#honkai star rail x reader#honkai x reader#blade honkai#honkai smut#hsr x you#hsr x reader#hsr smut#hsr blade#blade smut#blade x reader#blade x you#blade x reader smut#minors & ageless blogs do not interact.#hsr blade smut#hsr ren
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DECOLONISING D&D
In 2019, after seeing yet another round of alarmist discourse in Xwitter about how Dungeons & Dragons is FULL of COLONIALIST tropes and patterns, and needs to be revised, SCRUBBED of its PROBLEMATIC FILTH---I rage-tweeted this brainfart:
"Decolonising D&D"
I've seen this thread round the community, since. Humza K quotes it in Productive Scab-picking: On Oppressive Themes in Gaming. Prismatic Wasteland quotes it in Apolitical RPGs Don't Exist. Most recently, it was referenced in a 1999AD post about Western TTRPGs (an interesting discussion on its own merit; one that already has a counterpoint from Sandro / Fail Forward.)
If folks are still referring to it five years later, maybe I should give the thread a little more credit? Perhaps the fart miasma has crystalised into something concrete.
In the interest of record / saving this thought from the ephemerality of Xwitter, here is the text in full, properly paragraphed, and somewhat more cleanly expressed:
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"DECOLONISING D&D"
Firstly: saying "D&D is colonialist" is similar to saying: "the English language is colonialist".
If your method of decolonising RPGs is to abandon D&D---well, some folks abandon English; they don't want to work in the language of the coloniser. More power to them!
For those who want to continue using the "language" of D&D---
Going forth into the "wild hinterland" (as if this weren't somebody's homeland);
to "seek treasure" (as if this didn't belong to anybody);
and "slay monsters" (monsters to whom?)
Yeah. There's some problematic stuff here, and definitely these aspects should make more people uncomfortable.
But! I think it is an error to "decolonise D&D" by scrubbing such content from the game.
That feels like erasure; like an unwillingness to face history / context; like a way to appease one's own settler guilt.
Do you live in the West? Do you live in any Asian urban metropole? White or Person of Colour(tm)---you are already complicit in colonialist / capitalist (yes, of course they are inextricably linked) behaviour. (I can't speak for urban metropoles elsewhere, but I bet they are similar centres of extraction.)
Removing such patterns from the TTRPGs you play might let you feel better, at your game table. But won't change what you are.
I think it is more truthful and more useful NOT to avert one's eyes from D&D's colonialism.
The fact that going forth into the hinterland to seek treasure and slay monsters is a thing, and fucking fun, tells us valuable things about the shape and psychology of colonialism. Why conquistadors in the past did it; why liberal foreign policy, corporations, and post-colonial societies do it today.
Speaking personally:
I write stuff that evokes / deals with the context I'm in---Southeast Asia. An intrinsic part of that is looking at the ways colonial violence has happened to us---as well as the ways / reasons we now, supposedly free, perpetrate it on others.
A long chain of suffering. Heavy stuff.
I also write for people who want to have fun / kill monsters / pretend to be elves, of course. But for those people who want to consider serious stuff like colonialism: I offer no FIGHT THE POWER righteousness, no good feeling, no answers.
Only discomfort. Because the truth is uncomfortable.
Here's a screenshot of the Author's Note for Lorn Song of the Bachelor:
"Any text inspired by Southeast Asia has to reckon with colonialism ... This text presents a difficult situation; there are no easy solutions.
"... If I offered a mechanical incentive for you to fight colonial invaders, you wouldn’t be making a moral decision, but a mercenary one.
"The choice you face should echo ... the kind of calculus my grandparents faced."
I stand by that.
Also: might we be more precise and more careful about using the term "decolonising", please?
Here I quote Tuck and Yang's landmark and (sadly) still trenchant "Decolonization is not a metaphor":
"Decolonization brings about the repatriation of Indigenous land and life; it is not a metaphor for other things we want to do to improve our societies ..."
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Further Reading
So this post isn't just me reheating a hot take, here are some touchstone writings from around the TTRPG community about colonialism as a subject and mode of play in games:
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"Jim Corbett was called upon to hunt down another fifty maneaters over the course of the next 35 years. Together, those tigers had killed over 2000 people, for much the same reasons as the Champawat Tiger - injury, desperation, starvation, and habitat loss.
Would you look at that.
The root cause was British colonialism."
D&D Doesn't Understand What Monsters Are
from Throne of Salt
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"Another effect of having colonizers in my setting would be giving players the opportunity to drive them away from the islands, their home. This maybe just be for the catharsis. After all, isn’t catharsis a big part of why we play roleplaying games?"
I’m Adding Colonizers To My Setting
from Goobernut's Blog
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"When you have a slime boy and the other characters are a really fat lizard and one's playing Humpty Dumpty, it completely shatters the straight-faced serious authoritarian illusion of race, and replaces it with complete fucking nonsense. I love the idea of proliferating the number and types of "races" into absurdity, to the point where the entire logical structure of it collapses in on itself and race as a category ceases to become coherent or meaningful in any sense."
Interview with Ava Islam - Designer of the RPG Errant
from Ava Islam / The Lost Bay
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"Perhaps most critically, the fundamental basis of power is not land or even money but manpower. That’s what local rulers fight over, and what Chinese commercial networks export, in return for unique island products. It’s what the European colonists really need (even if it’s not what they most desire). There is rich loot to be grabbed in the form of spices, Spanish silver, Indian gold, sea cucumbers (the Chinese love ’em), perfumes, dyes, cloth etc. so there’s ample opportunity for piracy, trade and smuggling, but the key to long-term success – the key to independent survival – is nakedly and unquestionably uniting people."
Counter-colonial Heistcrawl: previous high scores
from Richard's Dystopian Pokeverse
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"They worked their own land—which they dispossessed from American Indians—or became small shop owners or opportunistic gold diggers or bounty hunters or itinerant ranchers. To me, substituting these situations for one ruled by industrial monopoly ignores that the Wild West is a perfect example of how capitalism operates outside of (or prior to) mass industry, instead being composed of self-employers and self-sustainers."
Fantastic Detours - Frontier Scum
from Traverse Fantasy / Bones of Contention
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"... using the Western framing and D&D's baked-in imperialist and capitalist structure to get people earnestly participating in the experience of forming imperial power structures and the early roots of regional capitalism ... The PCs aren't the drifters on the train or the townsfolk watching with apprehension - they're the railroad itself."
An Arrow for the General: Confronting D&D-as-Western in the Kalahari
from A Most Majestic Fly Whisk
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doing what’s right | huh yunjin
synopsis : you were always on top of your shit, and yunjin hated your fucking guts for it.
pairing : yunjin x fem!reader
genre : bully trope?? smut
tags : major hate sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism. yunjin’s a bitch, reader’s a goody two shoes and a virgin, jealousy, classroom, public sex kinda? teacherxstudent roleplay, is this considered tag teaming?? degrading names, stripping, slapping (like once but still), fingering, slight boob play, chaewon mention kinda? it’s hinted, dumbification lowkey? that funky stuff~~
!! warnings : dubcon turned consensual, threats of blackmail, degradation, humiliation, bullying, harassment, yknow… that stuff so don’t read if any of this makes you uncomfy please !!
word count : 3.2k
a/n : angsty yunjin coming out soon dw.. i just loved y’all too much to release unwarranted ass angst without some sort of apology beforehand😭enjoy! been wanting to write more dark stuff since you guys really liked minjeong? so YAYY!! also this is like so not proofread if you see any mistakes please ignore as i am so tiredgkefmm
also also obviously NEVER DO THIS TO ANYONE EVER THIS IS TRULY HORRENDOUS :(( and ofc if it’s being done to you CALL THE POLICE DO SMTHH THIS IS ACTUALLY HORRIBLEE?? this is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes and does not reflect my thoughts!!
“hey y/n, since you like studying so damn much, how about you do my assignments for me?” her friends giggled, enjoying the show, “how’s that sound, hm? i’m sure you’d enjoy it.”
you continued to write into your notebook, tending to your work as you ignored the unfunny comments that the group of annoying girls sent towards you, the most distracting one of them all being thrown was huh yunjin’s. you just kept trying to focus on the math equation in front of you as you heard their loud giggles and mumbles behind you.
it was confusing. she’d seem really nice if you didn’t know her, since she rarely was ever mean to other students. plus, she looked really friendly and put together, it was almost welcoming; her ginger hair always styled perfectly, her full face of gorgeous makeup that she somehow managed to put on everyday, the nice outfits she’d pull with such a basic uniform. no really, who knew you could do so much with just a blazer and a skirt? she looked and acted so kind towards everyone.
except you.
as it turns out, she just had a thing against you, apparently. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it wasn’t difficult to guess that she fucking hated your guts, it was apparent with how she’d glare at you whenever you walked past her, books in hand, or how she’d look at her friends whenever you rose your hand, putting on a mocking smile as she nodded along to you. i mean, it’s not like she pretended to like you, you were very aware of her feelings towards you.
you didn’t really care, though.
sure, you were kind of bummed out that somebody as kind-looking as yunjin disliked you at first, but what could you do, in the end? not everybody was gonna end up liking you, and that was okay. that’s what society is, after all. some people will like you, some people simply will not, and that’s just life. still, though, it’s not like you did anything to cause her to hate you.. did you?
nonetheless, slowly but surely, you started getting invested in your task again, the remarks of the girls eventually being tuned out of your brain as you grabbed your calculator.
that is, until you felt her more than overwhelming presence behind your shoulder. you could only sigh,
god damn it.
she pulled on a strand of your hair as she threw her history book on the desk, startling you, “d’you hear me, bitch? the bell rang ages ago, either you go home and leave, or you stay here, be a useful little student and do my work. your choice.”
you heard her friends cackle on the other side of the classroom as she pestered you.
god, and you were actually getting something done, for once.
standing up in a swift motion, you groaned and quickly picked up all of your things before shoving them inside your bag, getting ready to leave.
“since you asked so nicely.” was all you said, annoyed and heading straight for the door, your hand almost coming in contact with the doorknob. you were about to leave.
until she grabbed your hair and pulled you back, making you land butt-first on the ground, earning a collective laugh from the others.
“ow— w-what the fuck is wrong with you???” you yelled, grabbing the back of your hair, where she pulled on, caressing said spot in hopes of soothing it.
“what’s wrong with you? i ask you a question, and you don’t answer?? not what i expected from miss goody-two-shoes..” she mocked, wearing a fake pout as she slightly tilted her head, “i’m incredibly disappointed, y/n..”
you could only furrow your eyebrows and narrow your eyes at her, because what the fuck was actually wrong with her?? yeah, she was always annoying, but she never got violent with you, what changed today?
“no seriously, yunjin, what did i ever do to you?” you stood back up, unconsciously leaving your bag on the floor, “ever since i’ve met you, you’ve just been nothing but a bitch to me, and only me. seriously, tell me, what did i do to you?”
she, in response, only looked back at her friends who were sitting back and watching you two go at it, no really, they even grabbed chairs.
“what didn’t you do?” when she looked back at you, something in her eyes shifted, her gaze was no longer playful, it seemed evil, “everytime i look at you, you’re always on top of your shit, always doing what’s right. i mean— for fuck’s sake, your posture’s always straight, your assignments are always done, your grades are fucking perfect, your goddamn locker’s organized… and at lunch? you’re doing homework. you’re so— you’re just so fucking annoying. you realize that, right?”
…was this seriously what this was all about? you took school seriously, and she didn’t, so she was.. mad about it?? i mean— you’re literal seniors, of course you were gonna take school seriously? you looked back at her, still processing everything. you were perplexed, and she was stepping closer to you as you backed away, unconsciously pinning yourself against the wall.
“i-im sorry..? i really didn’t mean to make it seem like i was rubbing it in your face—”
“see? there you go again, doing what’s right, as per usual. apologizing, being the bigger person, making me seem like the bitch here, right? i see right through your facade, y/n, you think you’re better than everyone, when really, you’re the worst kind of person out there.”
at this point, she was inches away from your face, her gaze piercing through your soul like she was looking into the deep depths of your personality, searching for any sort of crack in your cool and composed demeanor. you always seemed so sure of yourself, she wanted to see you lose it, she wanted to see you lose control over everything around you, she was dying to see it..
but, much to her dismay, she found nothing.
“you’re fucking insane.” was what you whispered, looking at her with nothing but arrogance and worry in your expression. she stared back at you some more, before allowing herself to crack a distorted smile. what was she—
before you knew it, her lips roughly came into contact with yours as she grabbed your face, kissing you like she’d die if she didn’t. you were thrown off-guard, way off guard, especially because of how sudden this was from her, because of how sudden this was altogether. plus, the fact that you didn’t push her away just made it all so much more puzzling, why didn’t you? you were baffled, so baffled that you didn’t even realize her free hand roaming your body. she caressed all over your lower stomach, fingers tracing your thighs before reaching for your lower back, reaching under your skirt and cupping your ass almost immediately after her hand landed on it.
still hungrily making out with you, her hand ended up on one of your pockets, the one containing the classroom keys. of course, the teacher always trusted that you’d lock the classroom once you were done with your work, so he didn’t mind giving you the responsibility.
you didn’t even realize that she reached into the pocket and grabbed the keys, that is, until she quickly pulled away afterwards, leaving you breathless. as you opened your eyes again and caught your breath, you saw yunjin throw the keys behind her shoulder, “here,” the obnoxious sound of them being tossed around occupying your thoughts, “lock the door.”
watching as one of the other girls scrambled to catch them, you spoke up, “w-what are you—“
a loud slap resonated through the classroom before leaving space for silence to settle in, your face was stinging. then, when you raised your hand to put it on your cheek, trying to understand what on earth was actually going on, you heard the click of the lock.
“shut the fuck up.” she said, quickly grabbing you and your attention by the jaw and forcefully making you face her before putting on the fake cutesy face you know so well, talking to you as she would a stupid puppy,
“let’s play a little game, hm?” she slightly leaned in, in order to face you directly, “it’s gonna be called ‘how to be a good student’, the rules are simple; you’re gonna pretend that i’m your teacher and i’ll tell you to do certain things, you just have to obey. you can do that for me, right?”
you gulped, fear plastered all over your expression as you looked back at her.. but also, there was a hint of anticipation? what was she gonna force you to do?? the sane part of yourself tried shaking it off, but to no avail. it was probably way wrong to admit, fucked, even.. but you wanted to see how far she would go. you wanted to see what she wanted to do to you.
you were scared, sure, but also somewhat excited.
she patted your cheek, bringing you back to the reality before you, her friends still behind her, sick smiles as they watched, “understood?” she asked.
you could only reluctantly nod in response.
“words, dumb bitch. you’re usually really good at using those, aren’t you?” she tilted her head, eyeing your legs as her hand slightly fiddled with your skirt before her cold gaze went back on yours, “so, use them.”
your breathing getting heavier, you tried to push away all of the ridiculous thoughts you had, why the fuck were you yearning whatever she was planning? you quietly and unintentionally whined, hoping that she didn’t hear, then you eventually managed to choke up a reply, “y-yes.”
she scoffed, “yes what? i’m sure you don’t talk to teachers like that, do you?”
you closed your eyes momentarily, “yes.. m-miss.”
she snickered, letting out a mocking laugh shortly after as she mumbled something along the lines of ‘i didn’t think you would actually do it.’, raising her eyebrows in the process. her friends seemed rather amused, too, since they were all cracking up behind yunjin, one of them even grabbed her phone and started recording.
wait.
recording??
“t-the phone— what are you doing w-why are you recording—“
the girl in front of you rolled her eyes while backing away from you, sighing exasperatedly, “relax, if you just do as i say and listen to me, i promise you that we’re not posting it anywhere. okay?”
your reputation, your scholarship, she was risking all of it. what if your parents— you couldn’t even finish that thought without feeling chills down your spine
at this point, you had no choice but to trust her words.
“now, strip.” she added.
you hesitated, looking at every corner of the room, your brain desperately trying to forget that there were people watching you attentively.
after a few seconds, your eyes eventually landed on the ginger standing in front of you, arms crossed. her gaze stern as she looked at you; you particularly noticed how she seemed to be devouring your entire body only using her hooded eyes.
that, for some reason, gave you the willpower to do as she told you to.
you slowly and nervously unbuttoned your blazer and looked straight at her, your eyebrows slightly upturned, which earned a smirk from yunjin.
you looked like a prey being cornered by its predator, it drove her insane.
you paid no particular attention to the friends that were screaming, cheering you on and insisting that you take it off faster, treating this whole situation like it was a striptease. once you were only in your bra, you moved on over to your skirt, unzipping the side and slowly sliding it down, still unsure of whatever the fuck you were doing at that moment.
yunjin seemed pleased, very pleased.
“good girl.” the way her tongue rolled off the top of her mouth saying that gave you goosebumps, “now, go bend over that desk and wait.” she added, pointing to… the teacher’s desk.
a surge of shame suddenly washed over you when you remembered the amount of trust that said-teacher had in you. what would he think of you if he knew you were being so inappropriate in his workspace? as if the wall you were standing against gave you some sort of comfort, you didn’t want to move.
at all.
yunjin’s eyebrows furrowed, “come on, y/n.” she said, with a familiar, fear-inducing playful tone, “bend over that fucking desk or i swear i’m gonna make you regret ever attending your stupid classes.”
you were terrified, you knew she was fully capable of physically hurting you, she’s already done it up until now.
so you did what she ordered.
you obeyed.
you sucked up your embarrassment you felt in the process of walking past her friends, half naked and leaning against the desk. you kept your head down; feeling their phone cameras on you, you wanted to hope that hiding your face would make you feel better, so you just kept looking down. until,
a few seconds after, you heard noise behind you, noise that sounded like… bag scrambling? like someone was actively looking for something specific, which undeniably got you very worried.
you remembered your bag, the vision of you leaving it on the floor kept replaying in your mind.
fuck?
nonetheless, said sound only lasted for a few more seconds before stopping abruptly. then, you heard footsteps, who you could only assume were yunjin’s, get closer to you—
you saw a manicured hand slide a sheet of paper, a pencil and a calculator across the table…
the sheet.. was your math homework. the one you were working on not too long ago, it was in front of you.
then, feeling a hand gently rub on your lower back as the girls in the room giggled, you flinched slightly. “finish this assignment.” she ordered, cold, before adding onto it, “and under no circumstances do you move, okay?”
you breathed heavily, nodding. “y-yes miss..” was what you said, feeling a piece of your dignity leave your body with each second that passed by. what the fuck was she planning on doing to you?
without asking further questions, you grabbed the pencil sitting in front of you and went to work, trying to do what you do best; school work. for a few minutes, it went smoothly, you felt yourself getting calmer as you filled out the answers of the questions before you.
until you felt her fingers slowly slip your underwear down, her hot breath against your ear whilst she watched you work from behind, her friend group letting out ironic cheers. you heard her scoff as her middle finger came into contact with your.. embarrassingly wet cunt, rubbing it carefully.
“you’ve been wet this entire time, huh? didn’t know miss goody-two-shoes was so naughty.” you quietly whimpered at the touch, you were aching and you didn’t even want to fully acknowledge it. then, you heard some of her friends get up, getting closer to the both of you.
it was almost dehumanizing to admit that being treated this way turned you on this much, and the last thing you wanted at that moment was for her to know it.
she wasn’t as stupid as you thought she was, she figured it out fast.
she quickly stuck two of her fingers inside of you, watching you struggle as you tried to take her. “oh my god— don’t tell me that you’re a virgin?” she giggled, curling them and hitting your gspot as you bit your lip trying to suppress the lewd sounds that wanted to escape your mouth, “how does it feel to know that i’m the one taking your disgusting virginity, hm? shit, you’re fucking dripping for this, aren’t you?” was what she whispered in your ear, making sure no one heard it but you.
how considerate.
“mmh— y-yunjin—“ you attempted to turn your head over to look at her, but she quickly grabbed your jaw with her other hand and set it back to its original position.
“i told you not to move, didn’t i? focus on the fucking paper, whore. don’t make me hit you again, okay baby?” she snapped, being rougher with her fingers in the process. you let out a moan in response, because as much as you tried to deny it, everytime she spoke just made you clench even more around her.
so she sped up the pace with each sound that you let out, it didn’t take long for her to start properly fingering you and allowing her other hand to grope your clothed tits, watching you lose yourself under her inappropriate touch. you wanted more, you weren’t even writing on the damn paper anymore, you needed more of her. you needed to hear her friends call you a brainless whore more often.
you needed it.
your brain was so foggy and blurry that you didn’t even notice one of her friends end up in front of you, shamelessly shoving the camera on you, “come on y/n, look here.” she whined playfully, her turn to take ahold of your face and move it however she pleases, the girl made you look up at her and stuck her thumb into your mouth.
what was her name? chaeyoung? chaeryeong?? chaewon??? you couldn’t quite remember.
god, you didn’t even fucking know her name and you just let her slur you out like this?
“tell me y/n, is miss yunjin making you feel good?”
more, you wanted more. whatever the hell this was, you wanted more, you craved more.
you nodded, eyes hooded and rolled back as you felt the ginger’s long fingers reach deep inside of you, curling at the perfect places, at the perfect time. it felt so good, too good. you slightly drooled on the bob-haired girl’s thumb as your body shook under the both of them.
feeling yunjin’s mouth against your neck while she kept fingerfucking you, you blabbered, indecent things sounding like “k-keep going— i’ll never be an annoying bitch again i promise i— pleaseplease m-more—“ escaping your mouth.
everyone in the classroom was amused by this, you could tell by the things they said and the laughs they let out occasionally.
yunjin was especially enjoying it, because who would’ve thought l/n y/n would whore herself out for a group of girls she didn’t even know? not her, that’s for sure, but she lived for it, she waited so long for something like this to happen, and it finally did.
for you to be put back in your place, for you to be humbled, for you to be a begging and crying mess all over her. that’s what she hoped for whenever you opened your mouth in class.
“c-cumming— i’m— c-cumming i—“ you moaned against the sloppy kiss you were having with the other girl.
suddenly, a huge wave of euphoria washed over your entire body, causing your legs and arms to shake, giving out. you weren’t paying any attention to the volume of your voice, but when you felt lips come into contact with yours, you figured that you were being a little too loud.
you wanted more, you needed more.
too bad they simply all left you there, alone, only words spoken by yunjin beforehand being “don’t forget to lock the door afterwards.” after being thrown the keys to the classroom.
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hi, can I request a fluffy leighton x reader where the reader is having just a really bad day (late to class, someone spilled coffee on her, etc) and she’s just super stressed and anxious and leighton notices and tries to make her feel better and helps her through it? and ofc leighton’s roommates are totally unused to seeing her being soft with someone so they’re all shocked and stuff
Softie
Sometimes life just seemed to fuck you over and today was just one of those days. It started early in the morning, or well it didn’t which was the problem. Your alarm didn’t ring as your phone charger didn’t work. You woke up a lot later than you normally did resulting in you getting late to class and after class was finally done and the prof was done lecturing you about being late, you walked out of the room just for someone to bump into you and spill their hot coffee over your shirt. As you were already late you didn’t have time to change for your next course, instead just closing the jacket which was at least a bit better.
When it was finally time to eat, at least in theory, you went back to your dorm room to change and since your phone was still off you couldn’t even text your friends about not coming. Happy to finally arrive at your dorm you opened the door just to hear weird noise coming from your room. It took you a second to figure out what those noises were before sighing, your roommates sex life really always was your enemy. Since you couldn’t go into your room you just grabbed a new jacket to pull over your shirt, hoping that it’d fix the problem at least a bit.
During lunch, your friends sat at the same table as always. Leighton was constantly checking her phone, a worried look on her face. “It’s weird that she’s not answering right?” She asked her friends making them freeze for a moment, it wasn’t often that the blonde was asking for advice.
“Wait, is the leighton Murray worried about someone else?” Whitney asked, fake surprise in her voice as she widens her eyes earning an annoyed look from her friend.
“Did you maybe do something to upset her?” Kimberly asked innocently.
“Oh my god, did you say somebody else’s name during sex?” Bella intervened, making the rest of the group cringe. Especially Leighton who shuddered before shaking her head.
“What kind of question is that? Of course not and I don’t think I did anything to upset her. Yesterday everything was fine, we were out and then she brought me home, kissed me good night and went to her dorm. Later we texted shortly before saying good night and going to sleep. Since then I haven’t heard from her” she explained, wrecking her brain trying to think of anything she could have done. The rest was still kinda perplex, the blonde never talked about her private life like this. It already took them hours to get out of her who she was dating.
“Well, do you know if she had a course with anyone you could ask?” Whitney suggested.
“Oh, Lila. Didn’t you have Econ or whatever with y/n this morning?” She suddenly called out to the girl who was walking by their table.
“Yeah I did, dude was late as shit and left me alone in that boring ass course” Lila complained on and on until the blonde finally interrupted her.
“What do you mean she was late?” You were normally very punctual so this was already kinda weird.
“What do you mean ‘what I mean?’ Class started at 7:30, your hot stuff girlfriend arrived at like 8:15, leaving me alone for 45 minutes. But she did seem like she had a rough night or morning. If she did, that bitch is excused. But only this once” with that the sips manager disappeared.
After a moment Leighton stood up and grabbed her food confusing the rest of them as she didn’t say anything. “Where are you going?” Bela asked.
“I wish I could be looking for my girlfriend but instead I have to go and write a shitty math test that is way to easy anyway” she aggressively packed away her stuff before storming off to her lecture.
You never thought you’d say that you’d rather be in Leightons weird ass math class than at sips. But Thursdays were always extremely full and a lot of the people there were frat boys who treated workers like shit. Normally you were at least two people on Thursdays but Zoe had to call in sick last minute leaving you alone with a whole lot of work. Throughout your whole shift the frat boys tried to humiliate you and made you work twice as hard as they spilled everything on purpose and didn’t throw away anything. Your shift went an hour and a half longer than normal exhausting you even more.
Once you could finally leave you felt like breaking down, your eyes were wet, your bottom lip trembling and you were barely moving your feet. As soon as you entered the building your body moved on its own finding the way to your girlfriend’s dorm who was still panicking. She only knew that you were alive was due to other people telling her that they saw you. “If I don’t hear from her in the next hour I’ll get the police or some shit” she told the others while aggressively typing on her phone. “I have been everywhere. Her sips shift was over over an hour ago. I was at her dorm, the library, the cafeteria and the gym but she’s nowhere to be found” she added.
“Have you looked at sips?” Whitney asked making the blonde scoff.
“It’s Thursday” she answered leaving everybody confused, “She hates it there on Thursdays, so why would she stay longer?” While Kimberly found it unbelievably cute that Leighton knew which days you liked and which not she realized that the blonde didn’t have a clue how shifts might work.
Just as she was about to explain that to her there was a knock on the door. The youngest Murray sibling quickly jumped up to see who was behind the door, a relief sigh leaving her when she saw you. But her relief quickly disappeared when she saw how your shoulders were hanging, your eyes wet and barely sparkling anymore and your lips trembling when you tried to greet her. Everybody looked at you, making it even worse. Leighton quickly pulled you in to the room, her hands caressing your cheek softly. “What happened y/n?” She asked carefully while studying your face.
You tried to speak but every time you wanted to open your mouth, you could feel yourself starting to cry. The blonde didn’t want to force you to speak so she just wrapped you in a hug which made you sob out. “Shh, it’s okay. Everything is gonna be okay” she mumbled over and over, feeling all her roommates watch her. They couldn’t believe it, Leighton was hugging someone and in addition to that, someone who was crying. While they stared at her, she tightened her arms around you as she felt your legs giving out. “Bela, Kimberly couch” she asked. They quickly stood up and set on the seats across the couch so you two could sit there. When your cries slowly died down, the blonde pointed at the fridge, making Kimberly get up to get you a bottle of water. “Thank you”
Once your girlfriend had forced you to drink some water with the words “you don’t want to look puffy later do you?”, she repeated her question from before. “It’s stupid, really” you answered but the look she gave you made you continue. “I just had a bad day” you then explained, looking down at your hands.
“That isn’t stupid, love” she comforted, her hands still rubbing circles across your back.
“Can we ask what happened?” Whitney said carefully. One, she didn’t wanna upset you further, and two, she was scared of Leighton is she did upset you further.
“It’s just, my charger broke so my phone didn’t load which meant that my alarm didn’t ring. Then I was too late to Econ and the prof lectured me like half an hour after the lecture that I was too late and as soon as I left the room somebody spilled their hot coffee onto me, but I was already too late to change. So I had to sit in my next lecture drenched in hot coffee and when I wanted to change during lunch I walked into my dorm just for my roommate to have another one night stand over, so I couldn’t change. And when I arrived at sips I was told that Zoe called in sick so I was alone and it was so full and these stupid frat boys were there so I had to work longer than my shift went and they made me spill oat milk on myself” by the end you were nearly crying again. If it wasn’t for Leighton giving you comfort you definitely would.
“See, I told you Zoe is evil” Whitney pointed out, receiving a glare from Leighton which made you chuckle a bit. The moment the sound left your mouth the blonde stopped glaring and instead smiled at you. “I’m sorry the day was so shitty” she then added.
“Oh, I know these frat boys they’re so rude. They always knock their coffee down on purpose” Kimberly said, hoping that that would help you.
“Did you take on of those anxiety pills?” Leighton asked.
“No, they’ve been empty for like three weeks but the pharmacy isn’t delivering them. I called like 60 times and I even went there but nothing. They’re ignoring me” you explained while playing with the blondes fingers to calm yourself down.
“Wait, are you still wearing the shirt with the oat milk on it?” Bela asked as her eyes wandered down to your shirt. You gave her a nod with your lips pressed into a thin line.
“Alright, get up. You’re going to change and then we are going to deal with the rest” you only whined, moving seemed really hard right now and you’d rather not do anything. But the blonde grabbed your hand and pulled you up and into her room. The others tried to give you privacy but couldn’t help the glance through the open door where they witnessed Leighton pulling the shirt over your head and helping you put on another one. You didn’t even need to be told to get on the bed, instead just immediately falling into it, burying your face in the pillow that smelled like your girlfriend.
“Are you gonna come cuddle?” Your voice was muffled due to the pillow which somehow made the whole thing even cuter to Leighton. She nodded and placed herself next to you so you could cuddle. The fact that you were now going to sleep while it wasn’t even 5 pm wasn’t something she liked as you’d definitely have problems sleeping later but she ultimately decided that an hour won’t hurt after the day you had. She’d just wake you up when it was time for dinner.
“No! I mean today, latest in 2 hours. I don’t care, we’ve been waiting for these meds for weeks now!” Leighton nearly screamed into the phone as she exited her room, “Look if you don’t want a lawsuit you’ll bring them in the next two hours. Oh trust me, I have the money to run you down until you do not have a penny anymore. Thank you very much” when she hung up the phone she saw three pair of eyes starring at her.
“What?” She asked her roommates.
“What was that?” Whitney asked, her brows furrowed while the rest also starred at her.
“That damn pharmacy that’s been blowing y/n off” she shrugged as she sat down next to Bela on the couch. “Oh, Kimberly. Do you still have that calming green tea?”
“Uhm, yeah I do. I think it’s in the drawer over there, take as many as you need” the girl pointed to a drawer close to the fridge making Leighton stand up to find the package.
“Great, thank you. I’m gonna get some of y/ns favorite snacks. Does anybody else want something?” After each of them added at least on snack she quickly walked to the small store on campus to get everything. Once she was back the medication was already in front of the door and she still had enough time to brew your tea before she wanted to wake you. “Alright everybody, here are your snacks” she announced as she placed their bag on the table, keeping yours safely stowed in her hand while she heated up a cup of water.
“Love, come on. Wake up, it’s dinner time soon” she carefully shook you awake before placing a soft kiss in your cheek.
“How long did I sleep?” You grumbled as you hid your face in her stomach, still way too sleepy to think clear. The way the blonde brushed her fingers through your hair nearly made fall back asleep.
“Like an hour, but it’s dinner time and you gotta eat something so up you go” she encouraged noticing your hesitation and the way your eyes were darting around endlessly. It was a typical thing you did when you got anxious. “Hey, it’s alright. I even got you your meds so your mind and body can relax a bit” She presented the meds and the tea to you after helping you sit up.
“Thank you” she only gave you a soft smile and wrapped an arm around you.
Not long after you sat in the cafeteria, just observing the discussion the table had while eating your food. Due to the medication you were a lot calmer, giving you time to rest. Your whole body leaned against Leightons something she actually encouraged. Except for Bela, who once saw Leighton and the first girl she knew of make out, no one of them had ever seen her this touchy with anybody.
“Hey what are you guys thinking about watching a movie before we go to sleep? There’s a new Netflix movie that I think we’d all enjoy” Kimberly suggested, earning a yes from everybody except Leighton who instead looked at you who said yes.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” She whispered to you who was laying on her shoulder. You really liked Kimberly and she was scared that you were only too nice to say no. The nod you gave her didn’t convince her at all so you grabbed her chin to title her head down making it easier for you to press a kiss to her lips.
“I promise I’m up for this” you reassured again, she nodded at you and then at Kimberly who happily clapped her hands.
After all of you finished eating you redecorated the dorms common room so all of you could sit comfortably while watching the movie on the small projector Leighton bought during on of her shopping trips. You sat in front of your girlfriend, your back against her front with a blanket over your legs. To everybodies surprise the movie was actually good and all of you enjoyed it. At least until your eyelids became heavier and you drifted to sleep in her arms. When she noticed that you were asleep she pulled the blanket higher and pressed a kiss to your forehead mumbling a quiet ‘sleep well’.
“Who knew Leighton Murray could be such a softie?” Whitney grinned as she looked at you two earning an agreeing nod from the other two.
“What?!” The blonde asked visibly confused.
“Dude you’re a simp for your girl” Bela laughed enjoying the look on her roommates face.
“I am not” she argued back. “You’re so lucky she’s asleep otherwise I’d beat you up”
“Well, she’d kinda right. But like in a good way, you really care for her and it’s very sweet” Kimberly explained knowing that Leighton wouldn’t do anything to her as you liked her too much. Something that actually proved what she just said.
“Whatever! You guys are crazy” she complained feeling you stir slightly in her arms, “and now be quiet before you wake her”
“Simp” Bela whispered while turning her focus back on the movie only to miss the pillow that was chucked her way.
She knew that she was soft for you and she loved it, she loved you. But that wasn’t her roommates business.
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Could I have it's fine if not
A vox x reader where shes his secretary?
A/N: Your wish is my command, <3 This was fun to write. I definitely headcanon Vox as someone that would fluster easily because he's just constantly around the Vees so being around somebody else that he isn't trying to hypnotize or boss around is new territory for him.
Enjoy a flustered Vox. Definitely let me know if you'd like a part 2. I love subjecting him to this in my stories.
Word count: 2.9k words (2,948)
Breathtaking [ Vox x Secretary!Reader ]
The moment Vox saw you standing in front of him in his office, he immediately took notice of your curves. The way your uniform hugged every inch of you nicely. He didn't want to admit that you are Velvette's top model. Not that random bitch Valentino tore up in his fit of rage.
Your intelligence. Your charisma. Your hunger for power. He watched you ever since you demanded to work in his company. He took note of every quirk you have, replaying everything you've done throughout the day just in case he missed something.
When he saw that you were getting approached by Valentino, something boiled inside of him. He didn't want him to have your soul and body. Hell. Your body. He wanted you all to himself. No contracts. No deals. But there's one problem. He has no idea how to approach you. Like at all.
"C'mon darling~" Valentino plays with your hair, "I promise I can make you a star. Imagine it, you and Angel Dust. Side by side. You'll make so much money you won't even know what to do with it!" He breathes out his red smoke, surrounding you both. You could only see his eyes glowing behind it. "Don't run away, babe. Make a deal with me." He grins as his voice echoes around you.
You were about to try and fight for your life against an overlord until the smoke clears out with a zap. You feel the electricity crackling in the air. An arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into them. It was Vox.
"Valentino!" He smiles, "I see you've met my new personal assistant." Val scoffs, a little upset that he got first pick. You weren't entirely aware that you got boosted up to being an assistant but hey. You'd rather that than be a pornstar.
"You never told me this little princesa's your assistant. When did that start?" He whined.
"It started now. I told you I've been watching one of our..." He chuckles, trying to find the right words as to not expose him basically watching you, "...newest recruits."
Valentino almost chokes on his smoke, offended at the lie he just spat out. "Well I need that gorgeous body on set." He lifts up your chin with a finger, taunting you.
Vox moves you behind him before putting his arm around Val, his voice distorting a bit, "Val Val Val..." He chuckled, "You can have any other woman we can reach." They start walking a little bit out of ear shot for you. "I want this one. Got it?" He flashed his hyponitizing eye into his unaffected fellow overlord.
Valentino rolled his eyes and raises his hands up in defeat, "Fine. Fine. Take her." He scoffs, "But as soon as she's gone from your hands. She'll be mine." He chuckled.
"Fucking asshole." You hissed under your breath, secretly hoping he didn't hear it because you're kinda scared of him.
"Well, well. Nice to finally meet you." Vox pivots on his heel to face you, "I'm sure you've heard of me, HA! Who hasn't? The name's Vox." He extends his hand out to you, "And you, my dear, are?"
You take his hand to shake it, "I'm Y/N. I've been watching your work ever since I fell into hell and I've been doing my absolute best to finally get a chance to speak with you! I have so much to say and every time I try to get a meeting set up and-" You rambled before getting cut off by Vox pulling you closer to him as he grinned in delight. "My my. You have a lot to say there, doll. Why don't we go into my office so we can have a real meeting."
You get a bit flustered with your blabbering. "Ah. Yes. Apologies. I was just-" You take a deep breath, "Thank you. For saving me back there."
Vox chuckles a bit and teleports the two of you into his office, leaning into his folded hands. You felt the static all over your skin, your hair floating a bit in certain parts. He walks around his desk and plops down on his chair. You fix yourself up and sit across from him.
"So, Y/N, what were you saying earlier?"
"I want to be yours." You blurt out. Vox blinks, his smile faltered a bit.
"Excuse me?"
"I MEAN-" You clear your throat, "I want to be your assistant. I want to work for you. Under you. I am not afraid to get my hands dirty if it means you rise up in strength as the overlord of this city." If there was anything you can do right, it's killing. And blurting out the wrong things.
Vox chuckled in amusement, "Alright dollface, let's see what you can do." He grins, holding his hand out for you to shake. You shake it with eager delight.
------------------
It's been almost a year since you've begun your work as Vox's personal assistant and it's safe to say that his admiration for you grew over time. You were now next to him at all times. Even though you were his assistant, he was at you beck and call. You honestly didn't expect this behavior out of the powerful demon, but you weren't entirely opposed to it.
"Y/N. Pull up the statistics for the lowest earners this month." Vox states, stress oozing out of his words.
"Yes sir." You nod, directly transporting what he had asked for into the screen in front of him.
"I told you to call me Vox." He groans before cracking his neck, flicking through the screen to note down the employees that haven't met anywhere near the required quota. You take note his stiffness, specifically in his left shoulder. 'He must be working overnight again.' You thought to yourself.
You walk up behind him, gently massaging his shoulders. He flinches slightly from the sudden physical contact. "Wh-what are you doing?" He glitched a bit, hoping you didn't catch that.
"You stayed up overnight again, didn't you?" You sigh, "Sir, you need to take better care of yourself. You may be a powerful overlord but your wits will lose its touch if you don't get the proper rest you need." You work your fingers to massage the knot out of his shoulders as he slowly melted into you touch.
He groans a bit in pleasure, "I-" He started to protest but cut him off before deciding not too. "Whatever. Work your magic. You're good at that with me." He leans further back into his seat as he shuts his eyes, giving into your massage, "And call me Vox!"
You smile, looking down at him, "If you insist," You lean down, whispering into the side of his head, presumably where his ears would be, "Vox."
He was lost in your massage before the sound of his name slips out of your lips, causing his eyes to dart open. "You said my na-" He froze as soon as he turned to face you. Your face was so close to his screen. His face lit up as he slowly starting to buffer.
You grinned at his flustered state, "Sorry. Too close?" You pull yourself back and finally got that knot out of his shoulder. "How come you only have that stubborn knot on your left side?" You thought it strange that it was only on the left. You moved your hands off of the frozen overlord in front of you before shifting over to where he was facing, lightly tapping on his screen.
The taps got him out of his buffered state. He was flustered with you catching him so off guard like that. "No." He coughed, "Just caught me off guard is all." He brings back his signature grin as he looked up at you. "Now what was that question again? Something about a side?"
You roll your eyes, "Your shoulder. The knot I got out was only on the left side. What in the seven rings could you be doing with just that side of you? You arm wrestle Velvette or something?" You state, "You know, I did try that once. She beat me with such ease I never dared to try it again. Valentino just kept trying to lick my arm."
You continued to ramble as he sat and realized why. You haven't left his mind, or his screens, for the last couple of months. He couldn't tell you he's been busy jacking it off to the thought of you sharing his bed with him every night. He couldn't tell you that he wished you were there every time he woke up.
"Ahhh. Yeah! Yeah. Such a bitch to beat." He laughs nervously before quickly getting up, "Well enough of that. Thank you, doll, for the massage. Now, it's almost been a year since you've been by my side and I believe I owe you a treat." He smiled brightly, taking your hand in his, "How about we both the rest of the day off? Let me treat you to a nice restaurant as a...thanks. For your hard work."
Your fingers tapped against the back of his hand, "So...like a date?"
And he glitches again, "No! I mean-pff-what. Nahhhh. That's not-" He stutters, "No! No. I would never-"
His instant denial made your head, and heart, drop a bit in disappointment. You've grown to like him, more than just a close friend and ally. It seems that he took notice of your disappointment as he stopped his ranting to lift your chin up with his free hand.
"Look, just. Get ready. Look pretty! Get Velvette to help you with an outfit if need be. Tell her I sent you. And meet me outside in an hour." He reassures you, "I have quite the surprise for you, Y/N. You know I never disappoint."
"Okay, Vox." You manage a smile, holding his hand tighter. "I'll see you in an hour." You walk towards the door and head straight to Velvette.
Vox puts on his best suit and bowtie. Not allowing a single piece of garment out of place. He waited by the entrance of his building a little bit earlier than the discussed time, eagerly waiting your arrival. Before he knew it he was swamped with reporters, bombarding him with questions regarding the change in the extermination date. He easily answers the questions with his idea of "VoxTek Angelic Security" or so he calls it. He totally just pulled that one out of his ass. He hypnotized the crowd to keep them at bay. As soon as he did, you exit the nearest elevator.
He turned at the sound of heels clacking behind him. You wore a beautiful black dress with red accents that wrapped around your body nicely, hugging your every curve. The drop of your dress went a little bit too low for your liking, straight down from your chest to under your bust, but Velvette insisted that the fashion tape she put on it will prevent any accidental spillage. A slit that revealed the red and blue garter you wore on your thigh that resembled cables. Your hair was curled, half up and half down, falling nicely on your shoulders. On your ears were jewelry that matched the antennas on his signature hat.
The sight of you took all the air out of him, you were stunning in his eyes. "My..." He mumbled to himself as he walks towards you. "You look..."
"Silly, right? I told Velvette she didn't have to go all out. That I was just going out for a meeting with you to celebrate our first year working together." You sigh, looking up at him with a worried look, "If you don't like it, I can quickly change."
Vox couldn't help but snake his hand around your waist, "You look stunning." He grinned, "I can't wait to walk into the finest restaurant in Pentagram City with you by my side." He led you out into the limo waiting, "You're going to break necks with how fast they're going to turn at the sight of you, Y/N."
You blush a bit at his flattery, the makeup you wore barely hiding it. He held the door open for you. You thanked him as you sat inside.
The whole ride there was a test of self-control for Vox. He wanted to hold you in his arms. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, so much so that he swears you could hear it at this point.
You peek out the windows next to Vox. You thought the lights were beautiful, nothing like what they have on Earth. You were captivated by the lights and he took quick notice of you shifting. You scoot closer to him, trying to get a closer look out the window on his side. "The lights are wonderful here, Vox." You smile, taking in the sights.
You place a hand on his thigh, causing him to blush intensely, leaning over him. "If I were to ask you of anything, I'd love to have neon lights in my room." You look up at him, "If you permit it."
He gave himself a mental pat on the back with how quickly he composed himself. Vox places a hand around your waist, "I will give you anything in my power at your asking." He hypes himself up to finally ask you out to be more than just his secretary. More than just his friend. "If you permit, will you consider this as my first attempt in courting you, dear?"
Your face quickly turned red at the sudden turn on events. You lean back, taking your hand off of his thigh. You attempted to back up but his firm grip on your waist stops you, if anything, he pulls you close to his chest. You blinked at him in disbelief, "I-Of course. I shall. I'm honored at to have your attention."
"Love, you've caught my attention since you arrived in hell." He confessed. Before he could continue, the ride slows to a stop as you both arrive at your destination. "Now, shall we?"
You step out of the limo, hand in Vox's as he assists you, careful to not allow you to trip. "I've gotten us our own private dining room here. Somewhere we can speak freely without anybody listening in on our conversation." He leads you into the restaurant, his words earlier still replaying in your head. 'Is this really a date? A date with Vox?' You thought to yourself.
He pulls out the chair for you before seating himself. He sits across from you, propping up his head on the table with his hand. He chugs the bottle of rum on your table to ease his nerves. A couple gulps in, he was ready to talk. "May I confess something to you, Y/N?" He smiles.
"Yes. Of course. Anything, Vox."
"You drive me crazy." He starts, "You're double drop dead gorgeous. If anything is an honor, it's to have you here in hell as my date. These last few months have been my equivalent of heaven."
You fluster at his words, turning red at the compliments. "Y/N, if I may be so bold. I have fallen for you. You're in my mind, always. Your gaze recharges me as much as it short circuits my system."
He gets up to move his chair right next to you, "My dear, I know I just said for you to consider this as me courting you." He holds your hand in his, "But if I'm going to be honest, I don't think I'd be able to handle keeping my hands off of you for tonight. You're absolutely breathtaking."
In response, you finish off what was left in the bottle he drank out off to ease your nerves. The alcohol flushed your face more than it already was from his confession. "Vox. May I be so bold as to speak my truth in return?"
He gulps down his nerves, a bit on edge. "Yes. You know you're always allowed to speak your mind around me."
"Pardon me, then."
"Pardon you for wh-"
You throw yourself on him, kissing him with passion. His hands instinctively wrap around your waist, closing the gap in between your bodies. You shift to sit on his lap, lacking the shame a normal person, probably not in hell, would have in a high rated restaurant. You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into him. You feel his tongue enter your mouth, taking control of yours. He relished your taste. What felt like hours in each others' hold, you finally pull away for air. You gasp and pant, looking into his eyes.
"I've worked as hard as I did, climbed the ranks and dirtied my hands to catch your attention the moment I learned of you. I absolutely adore your mind. Working with you solidified that." You smile sweetly at him, enjoying the shock in his eyes. "I'd love for you to keep your hands on me all night." You winked, "Take that how you will."
You hop off of him, returning to your seat. You sigh contently, holding his hand in yours.
"3..." You count down. Sparks fly from the back of his head.
"2..." You turn to him, his screen was flashing all types of errors now.
"And 1."
His excitement, shock and happiness absolutely drained the city of its power. You giggle and rest your head on his shoulder, waiting for him and the city to properly boot back up. If he unfortunately forgets, you'll just repeat it again for him to remember.
#vox hazbin hotel#vox x reader#hazbin hotel#hellaverse#hazbin hotel vees#hazbin hotel valentino#hazbin hotel velvette
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Sir || Aaron Hotchner
Request: Do you think you could do a Hotch x ADHD reader where they are energetic and talkative all day since Aaron came back from a tough case. With the constant questions and comments Aaron gets irritated due to stress and says something like “can you be quiet for 5 seconds please” or “enough with the stupid questions, it’s annoying” and the reader ends up talking less with him and only responds with short answers and they try to suppress their ADHD ticks around him.
A/N: Well, I couldn't sleep on the plane home yesterday and I found a surge of inspo! Had so much fun writing this one. I just adore Hotch! Thanks for the request! @ghostridrr
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N
Word Count: 3.9k +
You’d never expected to be dating an FBI agent nonetheless fall hopelessly head over heels for the guy in a matter of months. Coming from humble beginnings in a small southern town. Not many people made it out, but you did. You were determined. Determined to get the hell out and never look back. So, you did. You made it happen. Working your ass off through college becoming a civil engineer and finding a job at a firm in Washington DC you quickly found your groove. You worked your way up from an engineer to a manager to a project manager within ten years. Loving your job meant giving your all which didn’t leave much time for your personal life nor a love life. It’s not like you hadn’t tried you were just busy.
It all hit you on your birthday that you wanted more. You wanted a partner. You wanted to have a life with somebody. For years you put in effort to try. Dating good guys and shitty ones alike. You were about to give it up for good after the years of trying. But the universe had a different plan for you.
It all started so casually on a sunny Monday morning at Quantico. Your firm had been contracted out to completely renovate the old Quantico offices and bring them into the 21st century. You’d absolutely fallen in love with your job, the project manager, over the course of the six months. Between working with the clients, budgeting, staging, and executing the demo and construction you’d found loved. It was the perfect job that kept your busy brain occupied and constantly moving. Always showing up to work with a big cheesy smile on your face and ending the day with an inevitable streak of dirt across your shirt or jeans.
Everything went so smoothly until your crew moved up to the sixth floor. The BAU. Whatever the hell that is. Apparently, nobody had warned the boss man and he wasn’t too thrilled to say the least. You were used to working around the residents of the floor, but this wasn’t starting out to great considering your crew would be working on the floor for the next few months.
“What the hell is all this? Why is there tarp in my conference room?” A strong voice broke you from the planning board you were reviewing with your construction Forman, Eric.
Snapping your head around you made eye contact with possibly the most handsome man you’d ever seen. Of fucking course he had to be hot as hell. This was certainly going to make things way more interesting for you.
Putting on your best smile you slowly walked over to him, hardhat and high visibility vest and all, “I’m so sorry sir. I thought somebody from your leadership would’ve informed you. My crew is starting some demo and renovations on this floor today. We’ll do our best to keep the noise down, but we might have to kick you out of a few spots every now and then.” Trying your best to charm the man with a big smile you only felt intimated when he simply just looked at you. As if he was studying you. Not frowning, not smiling, stoic as hell. You involuntarily took a step back. Intimidating the hell out of you.
He must’ve picked up on your discomfort as his straight-faced gaze softened ever so slightly. He pinched the bridge of his nose as you cocked your head to the side observing him. He must’ve been choosing his words very carefully.
“I don’t have time for this today. I’m sorry.” He sighed in clear frustration. A real frustration you’d seen time and time again on the job.
You frowned. Annoyed at his leadership for failing to tell him you were about to ruin his next few months as your crew worked through the floor. You had to think quick. This was your job after all, “I’ll tell you what sir. We’ll start over on those conference rooms this week. Hopefully that gives you time to sort it out?” You pointed to the rooms on the other side of the office, not the large one his team clearly needed.
He gave you a curt nod. His gaze almost fully softening as you tried to compromise with him still with a genuine smile on your face. Even he had to admit that smile was breaking him down far faster than he would’ve thought possible. He had yet to even look at a woman since Haley’s death, that was years ago now. It freaked him out a little. He’d been so fine on his own. Figuring out a good routine with Jack and Jess. Getting too complacent. He knew it wasn’t fair to Jack. Especially since he was getting to an age where a mom was crucial. Jack needed somebody to lean on and it certainly wasn’t fair to Jess to pick that up.
“It won’t mess your plans up?” The handsome stranger asked you. Your smile grew as you knew he was going to be willing to work with you. More often than not you’d have to get into with whomever was arguing back with you, often the government trying to shut you down. But you knew better. You always had all the permits you needed and knew the rule book like the back of your hand. That’s why you excelled. You never let anybody get the better of you. ADHD was a curse and a blessing at the same damn time.
Shaking your head you continued, “Not at all! That’s construction. You plan, and then it changes 45 times before you actually start. It’s no big deal at all. Really.” You tried to reassure him. He looked embarrassed that he was so upset only a few moments prior. The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable. You knew you had at least two months of face to face with the guy. Starting off on the wrong foot was the worst thing you and the crew could do.
“I’m sorry. If you wouldn’t mind. We have a crucial case involving some kids…” He stopped himself before he divulged too much. He didn’t want you to get kicked out on his own accord. He knew you only had a clearance to enter the building. Nothing more, nothing less. He wouldn’t risk that at your stake.
“No explanations necessary sir. We’ll find a better day to demo.” You never dropped your smile as you maintained eye contact with him. You found that making sure to look whomever in the eyes always met you with better than looking around, looking scared.
“Aaron. Sir is too formal. Aaron Hotchner. My team, whenever they get here, will call me Hotch. Call me whatever.” He stuck his hand out for you to take. Gently you set your hand in his. You’d always been taught to go for the death grip when shaking hands. It established dominance or some bullshit like that. Especially since you were a woman in such a male dominated field. Working in a man’s world was exhausting. But something struck you as different with the man. So gentle it was.
“Nice to meet you, Aaron. I’m Y/N.” He shook your hand just as gently as you set your hand in his. You weren’t sure if he felt the pull that you felt but you simply couldn’t take your eyes off him.
“It’s nice to meet you to Y/N.” The handshake when on for a little too long. You were positive Eric was going to give you hell for this when you walked back over, “And again, I’m sorry for the outburst. These cases get stressful.”
You laughed a giggle that shouldn’t have come out of your mouth at work. His stoic expression tweaked into a soft smile after hearing your laugh, “Believe me when I say that was tame. The yelling matches I’ve gotten in with men twice my age are too plentiful to count.”
He laughed this time finally dropping your hand, gently of course, “I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
You shrugged, “Part of the job. Plus, it’s fun to yell back sometimes.” His small smile grew into a much larger one, eyes crinkling and all. You’d done it. You’d charmed him.
“Hotch!” A female voice came yelling out of the conference room, “Round table, let’s go.” The pretty blonde-haired lady smirked at him before turning back to the room. The two of you failed to see his team file in during the conversation.
He broke his gaze turning around to see his agent vanishing from the doorway, “Got to go. Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”
You nodded your head, “Likewise Aaron.”
The rest was literally history. He ended up bringing you some sort of coffee or baked good every morning he was in the office, which you learned very quickly wasn’t all that often. He and his team seemed to be away more than they were actually there. You took advantage of that and fixed their office spaces and conferences rooms right as they left for their trips. You’d check in with Penny to make sure you weren’t in the way when they got back.
Small chit chats in the morning turned to lunch “dates” as Eric so kindly called them. You’d refused to call them as such, not ever truly able to gauge whether he was actually interested in you or not. You tried to make it as blatantly obvious as possible, but he was Aaron. Calm, cool and collected. The two of you had even been the butt of office jokes as you got closer. You didn’t seem to care though. It felt too good with him to give whatever you had up.
Lucky for you those lunch dates turned to dinner dates and before you knew it you were meeting Jack and spending time at his place. Weeks turned to months, and you were spending almost every night at the Hotchner’s. You and Jack were getting along as thick as thieves. Aaron even trusting you to watch him while he was gone. You made Jack promise not to tell his daddy that you gave him ice cream almost every night. It was a secret between the two of you.
Jack was off on a summer camp, and you’d just wrapped up the Quantico project leaving you far too bored sitting at Aaron’s place. So, you did what you always did when you had nothing to do. You cranked up the music and started cleaning. It was a Tuesday morning, and you really weren’t expecting Aaron to get back from his case. It was a long one out in Colorado. He never gave you the specifics, but he sounded horribly upset each night when he was on the phone with you. Distracted and distraught.
You hadn’t heard the door open and close as you were upstairs cleaning. But when your music abruptly stopped you hightailed it downstairs to get it going again. To your surprise your boyfriend was standing at the kitchen island rubbing his temples. You should’ve known there that he wasn’t going to be in the best of moods.
“Hon.” You grinned ear to ear seeing him standing there, “Your home! How was the trip? Happy to be home? I missed you tons. Especially with Jack being gone, I haven’t had anybody to talk to.” You wrapped your arms around his front, hugging him from behind. You were usually really good at picking up on social cues, but you must’ve been too damn excited to see him to pick up on his mood.
“Y/N.” He gave you a half smile before squeezing your hands tightly but gently. Like he was afraid of losing you.
“Aaron.” You let go of him brushing the now overgrown hair out of his face, “Are you alright? Was the trip okay? I just missed you so much. Hopefully it wasn’t too bad. I’ve really gotten used to having Jack around. I wish you didn’t have to go so often.” You admitted.
He sighed a deep one, “It was a tough case.” Was all he gave you. You should’ve known there that he wasn’t going to give you much else. But your stupid ass brain decided to ignore the cues. It wasn’t really your fault that it bounced around so quickly. You’d even taken your meds today. It was something about Aaron that seemed to break anything those meds were holding back.
“Want to talk about it? I know you never do but it could be good for you. You know? It’s not great to hold that kind of stuff in. It’ll eat away at you.” You just wanted him to be the Aaron you knew. Not the ball of stress standing before you.
He shook his head, “Not this time.”
“You sure? You look upset hon. I don’t like to see you like that.” You continued not noticing him closing his eyes. Surely more than irritated with you at the moment. But were you going to catch that? Nope.
“Positive.”
You nodded, “Alright. If you say so. Are you hungry? I can whip you up some lunch…”
He interrupted you before you could go on whatever long winded rant you had built up, “Y/N, can you be quiet for five seconds please? I’m trying to think.” You were turned away from him and didn’t see the immediate regret that washed over his face. He didn’t really mean it he just needed you to stop for a moment. He wasn’t expecting you to be home and wasn’t ready for the bombardment of questions. After cases that involved so many deaths it took him a moment to come back around. He needed a second to himself. The job was hard and you knew that.
And with that you felt your heart deflate right then and there. The smile that hadn’t dropped since he came home immediately vanished without a trace. Your happy eyes immediately dropping and filling with hot, wet tears that desperately wanted to spill over. You’d been with him for almost half a year and that had yet to come out of his mouth. It took you by surprise, to say the least.
“I’m so sorry.” You squeaked out before walking out of the kitchen hastily. You weren’t good with conflict. Always running away from it.
He knew he fucked up. You weren’t overly sensitive, but he knew what he said was over the line. Especially since you were simply trying to help him. But he also needed that moment. So, he shamefully let you sit upstairs with your thoughts. You had an issue of letting things ruminate in your head for far too long.
Letting the tears fall you continued to clean the bathroom in silence. Why were you like this? As soon as you got comfortable with someone you seemed to ruin it with your dumb ass brain. You should’ve known he was exhausted. He’d been gone for nearly two weeks. Cases never ended well when he was gone for over a week let alone two. You should’ve backed off the second he started giving you short answers. Stupid stupid brain ruining everything.
Once you finished you thought it best to spend some time back at your own apartment. The last thing you wanted to do was annoy him into breaking up with you. Tip towing downstairs you found him asleep on the couch. Biting your lip, you scribbled a note letting him know you went home making a dumb excuse that your friend needed you. As much as you wanted to spend the night with him, he clearly needed it alone.
It wasn’t long after you got home that your phone buzzed. Looking down you saw Aaron was calling. Deciding it best to give him space you decided not to pick up. When it rang for a second time you answered, “Hey.” Why were those stupid tears threatening to spill again?
“Sweetheart where are you?”
You frowned, “Home. Emma needed some help with a dress.” You partially lied. Your friend Emma really did need help hemming her dress, something you were oddly good at. But she wasn’t coming over until the weekend.
“Oh, are you coming back after? We can make Spaghetti, your favorite.” You knew this was his attempt to apologize. Quickly realizing in the relationship that Aaron was a quality time kind of guy, his true love language.
Should you? You weren’t feeling great about the whole thing and a night away might make the heart grow fonder, “I don’t think so Aaron. I’m tired and she’ll be over for a while.” Another lie. You hated doing this to him but you just couldn’t confront it head on. It just wasn’t something you were ready for.
“Oh, okay.” He sounded sad. It made your heart lurch just thinking about it, “Come over tomorrow after work?”
“Yeah, sure.” You knew you were being short with him but God, you just didn’t want to annoy him. A specialty you’d seemed to master.
“Everything alright sweetheart?”
Everything was not alright, “Yeah, just a bit tired. I should get going, she’s almost here.” You hardly heard the confirmation on the other end of the phone before you hung up on him.
You didn’t sleep well nor work great the next morning. Aarons comments ringing in your ears over and over again. When it came time to go home you took his route home. Knowing you had to confront this at some point. Aaron would make you. He always did. As bad as he was with words, he always made sure to talk things out.
Somehow, his black SUV was parked in the driveway. You had an inkling feeling he was going to beat you home no matter what. He might’ve even taken the day off today. Walking through the front door you found Aaron in the kitchen cutting up some tomatoes.
“Sweetheart.” He smiled while dropping the knife and walking over to you. Wrapping you in a tight hug he made sure to give you an extra squeeze. He was a profiler after all, he knew something was amiss.
“Hi.” You mumbled in his chest. Breathing him in completely you let your eyes close as you leaned into him. He was clearly trying to make it up to you now, might as well let him.
“Have a good day?” He asked while prying you away from his chest.
Shaking your head you decided to answer honestly. The little white lies you told yesterday making you feel gross, “No, not really.” Yawning you leaned your head back into his chest.
He starting brushing through your hair with his fingers having an inkling as to why, but he needed to know for sure. He hated hurting you. You were nothing but sweet to him and he returned it by snapping at you? He’d done it to Jack as well. He knew it was something he needed to work on even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.
“And why’s that?” He asked softly making sure not to startle you.
“Didn’t sleep great. Then my boss decided to put me on the worst project. Pipes.” You sighed. It wasn’t an attack on you, every project manager had to have a hellish utility job. You were just next on the list. It couldn’t have come at a worse time though. Pipe work meant constant oversight, and anything could shut the project down. Tedious and annoying but necessary, you knew it.
“I’m sorry honey.” He confined brushing through your hair.
“It’s fine.” You signed closing your eyes as you listened to his heartbeat. You weren’t in the mood to talk which was strange for you. You always wanted to talk. To dive a little deeper. Understand him a bit more. But you weren’t feeling it. Was it actually your mood or were you just terribly self-conscious now? You refused to ask that question as you shoved it to the back of your mind.
“You sure it’s fine? You’re awfully quiet. I miss my chatty girl.” He knew he needed to apologize. He should’ve just spit it out already. But he wanted to see if he could see if it was anything more. He’d never seen you so down and out. You were always there with a smile and seeing you so sad had him worried. Had he done that to you? Did you not sleep because of him?
You nodded into his chest, “Yeah, ‘M just…” You paused. Was it really worth not telling the whole truth? Aaron would figure it out. He probably already had. He was doing that profiler shit on you now. As annoying as it was you grew to love it. It was him. You loved him. Everything about the man intrigued you, “Tired.” You finished. Not the whole truth and you knew it.
“Honey.” He kept brushing through your hair knowing how much it calmed you.
Feeling a little surge of bravery, you looked up to him, “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dismiss you yesterday.” He paused giving you a brief kiss on your forehead but not giving you enough time to respond before he continued, “I love all your questions. I really do. It’s just this last case was rough. And I know that’s no excuse to treat you like that. It’s just… this guy. He targeted women that looked just like you. It’s been an awful two weeks. I just miss you. Please stay?”
“Oh Aaron,” You frowned but squeezed him tightly, “I’m so sorry. If I had known…”
“I should’ve told you. Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing.” He kissed your forehead again holding it there. Just holding you in his arms.
Feeling so safe and secured in his arms made you feel every emotion all at once. Thrilled that he still felt the same about you. Embarrassed you took it so personally. Scared you would mess this up. So in love with the guy who recognized so easily what was bothering you. It was all too much for you. You couldn’t try to stop the tears that flowed down your cheeks even if you tried.
Aaron pried you away from him taking your head in his hands. Softly he wiped away the tears with his thumbs with a sad look on his face, “I’m so sorry sweetheart.” His eyes searched your face for anything. His heart breaking just a little more seeing your hurt expression across ever feature.
Nodding, that’s all you could do. Absolutely you accepted his apology. He was so sincere with it you know he meant everything with his entire heart, “It’s okay.” You managed to choke out between breaths. After a moment the tears finally stopped. You’d normally be horrified by the sudden outburst but with him you weren’t. You knew he had you.
“It’s really not. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.” He assured you wiping away the final tears.
“Thank you, Aaron.”
He pulled you back into him, “I’m not perfect but I promise you I’ll try.”
“I know that.” You beamed up at him. You felt so much better. Words always helped, running away never did.
“I love you, my dear.” He smiled down at you while rocking you back in forth in his arms.
“And you know, I love you too.”
Taglist: @twilightlover2007 @morgthemagpie @ashie-babie @buckybarnessweetheart @wendy234678 @adhdannieedison @emilykolchivans @aurabambi @pipecleanerweyesfp @simp4f1 @ghostridrr @sunflowers-4
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner angst#hotch#aaron hotch x you#hotch x you#hotch x reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch hotchner#criminal minds#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch fic#aaron hotch fluff#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds angst
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DON'T
synopsis: Nanami Kento, your ''work husband'' thinks you've finally started seeing somebody which would supposedly deter his role in your life, was he more than just a fuck here and there?
warnings: p in v , creampie , rough sex
a/n: i haven't even watched out jjk so sorry if i write the characters a little bit off
" Then I said 'No way, Kiyoshi. I would never even put that in my mouth, then he slaps it on my face and it gets like all over my face and in my mouth too. It was disgusting." you sum up your weekend trip of going to the amusement park with your family, talking about the infamous incident of the corndog with the green nacho cheese sauce, a tale spread widely amongst your co-workers of Jujustu High.
Gojo laughs hysterically, hitting your shoulder to express himself more. "Okay, okay." you chirp along, "Sounds interesting." Nanami spoke, you flinch, not expecting his deep, husky voice to rung amongst the group of people you were with. "Hey, when did you get here?" you question, taking a sip of your coffee through the reusable, plastic lid.
"Just recently, hope I'm not missing out in all the fun." he murmured unenthusiastically. "Nope, I have another part to my story." you mention, "Ooh tell, tell." Gojo encouraged like a child, "Right, so me and Kiyoshi went on this ride, ah- I forgot the name, but it spun me around so much times, I almost had to vomit and right after I came off, I puked all over my new shirt, it was disgusting and I think I stained my shirt too." you babbled with Gojo, earning another loud laugh from the white-haired man.
Words started spinning in Nanami's head as he stood between you and Gojo, pondering to himself, 'Who is Kiyoshi?', he tried recalling you ever mentioning a Kiyoshi, but there was no ring of recollection. Of course, he could simply ask who was Kiyoshi, however he didn't know what reaction he'd have to what you would say.
Keeping the act of being unbothered, he calmy asked, "Who's Kiyoshi?" he enquired as he vehemently pushed down any sort of emotion imbued in his voice, both Gojo and you turned to look at him, face blank as you registered his question.
"Oh. He's my-", "Sensei!!" Itadori's voice rung, interrupting you mid-sentence, you turned your head to see the boy at the doorframe, waving at you enthusiatically, you quickly walked over to him upon noticing his excitement, leaving both Gojo and Nanami in the presence of eachother.
Gojo turned to Nanami, "I think he's her boyfriend." Gojo stated while scratching his head, "Anyways, bye bye." Gojo waved before joining you and Itadori, leaving Nanami standing with a tense, straight face. He sighed unwittingly, balling his hand into a fist before releasing them slowly as he looked at you, your plump, lustre lips moving as you spoke frantically to both Itadori and Gojo.
Nanami noticed Gojo grab Itadori's shoulder, ushering him away from you, plausibly engaging him in some sort of activity or mission to build his strength, you waved at the two of them before turning to Nanami, you walk over to him, with the intention of getting your handbag that you placed on the sidetable next to your cup of coffee.
"You didn't tell me you got yourself a boyfriend." Nanami gnarled. "Hm, what do you mean?" you question, grabbing your bagstrap, "Playing dumb now?" he mused, grabbing your wrist, pinning it down onto the table. "W-What are you talking about?" you fretted, "What about me? Hm, what am I gonna do when I'm horny?" he muttered into your ear, standing in front of you now, using each of his hands to pin yours onto the table behind you, trapping you in front of him.
You gasp, the room noticeably silent after he spoke, you looked down before looking up at him again, "What are you saying?" you catechize, releasing his grip from both of your wrists, the moves his hand to the curve of your ass, grabbing at the curve of your plump, clothed ass. "Nanami, not here, we can't, not in a classroom." you asserted, "The classroom is empty." Nanami remarked as his hands traveled lower, one hand stayed on your ass as one ventured lower, pulling up your skirt shamelessly using his index and middle finger, he manouvered the pads of his fingers over the fabric of your panties which covered your pussy.
Rubbing a line, teasing your clit through the fabric of your panties, Nanami felt the cloth dampen, smirking lightly as he continued to play with your pussy through the cloth. "Turn around for me." he instructed, you looked up at him through your eyelashes, biting your lower lip as you felt your heart rate increase, "Lock the door." you spout before turning around like he said, you pressed your hands down into the wooden table in front of you, legs almost trembling in anticipation as you hear the door click.
Nanami positioned himself behind you, lining the tent in his pants to where your ass bowed, you felt him behind you, holding onto your hips as he alligned himself, he brought his face towards your shoulder, you twisted your head to look at him, lips meeting as he kissed your reddened lips, down to your neck, stopping at your collarbone. "Mine." he groaned, unbuckling his belt, you hear the zipper come down as his enormous, girthy cock sprung free.
You felt the tip hit your ass as he held his cock in his palms, stroking himself slowly before lifting your skirt, using his thumb to massage your clit through the wet-stained fabric of your panties, " Arch your back for me." he instructed to which you complied, feeling a rush of pleasure run up your spine when he positioned his thumb lower. Using his index finger, he slid your panties to the side, you felt the head of his cock around the rim of your pussy, making your chest tighten as your pussy oozed with juices, only aiding him in slipping it in.
It was only half-way in, you gasped while placing your hand on his tense lower stomach, feeling his tight abs through his shirt, slamming his entire length into your drenching pussy, he stared off with slow thrusts, getting your pussy standardized to the wideness and lengthiness of his flushed pink-colored cock.
"Oh fuck." you moaned when he fucked you slowly, dipping his cock out of you as he slowly pushed himself back in, watching how your ass pressed against his hip when he shoved himself deeper into you. "Please." you whined, in one swift motion, he used his hand to wrap your hair around his palms, tugging at your hair before increasing his speed.
Your back arching as he fucked into you at a godly pace, skin slapping against his as you moan loudly, attempting to speak, "S-slow down.'' you whine, "Be quiet." he groaned as he used his free hand to grab onto your waist as he dug his cock as deep as it could reach into your cushiony walls before drawing it out, leaving the tip standing inside alone before he rushed his cock into you oncemore.
Your hands trembled as you held onto the table, your knees growing weak with every thrust, he pounded into you so greedily and ruthlessly, your needy drenched pussy was continously being stuffed by his wide cock as he tugged at your hair, groaning upon hearing you squeal at the sudden quickness of his hips.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." you curse out, arms growing weak, "How's your boyfriend gonna like it when his girl's screaming around my cock, hm?" he taunted as his fingers dug into the skin of your waist, "Tell me." he grunted as he paced in and out of your dripping pussy, your mixed juices of arousal dripping down your thighs, "Can anybody fuck you like I do?" he questions, "Hm?" he hums, "No!" you whimper as your pussy quivers around his cock.
Removing his hand from your waist, his fingers travelled down to your clit where he rubbed at your nerves while simultaneously ramming into your weeping pussy, "Say my name." he commands, slamming into you as you slur your words.
"Fuck, Kento!" you bawl as your knees tremble, you feel a sudden tautness in your lower stomach, you groan as your walls clench around his cock, "Oh fuck! I- ah." you manage to squirm as you feel the tightness in your lower stomach fade out, covering his dick with your cream.
Keeping his dick inside of your plushy walls, he pressed himself against your back, letting go of your hair, "Stay with me, baby." he muttered before thrusting in and out of your weary pussy as you bite your lower lip, "'m gonna come inside you." he groans, using both hands to grab onto your sides as he plunges his cock deeply into you, painting your walls white as you feel him fill your insides, his cum runs down your thighs and down to your ankle.
He pants as he releases his grip from your waist, slowly drawing his cock from your ladened pussy, he pulls your panties to cover what it intended to, as he pulls you from your arched position, pulling up his zipper, followed by buckling his belt.
You turn around to face him, face sweaty, lips plump and in a pinkish color, "Leave your boyfriend." Nanami instructs, you sigh, as a method of catching your breath, "I don't have a boyfriend." you iterate, "You can change that though." you throw out there before grabbing at his crotch, he smirked playfully before getting a napkin for you to clean yourself.
#nanami kento#kento nanami#jjk nanami#jjk kento#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#nanami x reader#kento x reader#nanami smut#jjk smut#smut#jujustu kaisen smut#jjk x you#nanami x you#kento x you#jjk fanfic
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How about this: After some especially rough missions, Ghost is on edge, his mental health hanging by a thread. Of course he doesn't admit it and powers through training and everything, but everyone knows he needs help, something to balance him out again.
Even the doctors are on their wits ends with him at this point, so they try a new approach and assign him to some animal assisted therapy. OF COURSE he hates the idea - waste of time and he is fine anyway...
So reader and their animal are invited to base to try and help him. (Or reader is the team mate, and the therapist an additional character - how ever, you know best.) I'll leave to you which animal it will be. ;-)
Ghost & Peppa (the dog)
Anon, hold my purse while I fill this with warnings:
Brief mentions of war
Mentions of physical & emotional trauma
This story is purely fictional and should not be considered an accurate representation of the practices and/or effects of Animal-Assisted Therapy
I did NOT cry while writing this. I’m fine.
——————————————————————
He’s fine. Of course, he is.
Nothing wrong with collecting mutilated bodies after a bomb explosion—It’s part of the job.
What about him getting shot? Ah well, it got him on his shoulder—that doesn’t count. It wasn’t life-threatening, according to him. He was fine.
He had to talk to someone. You all tried to pass the idea to him. Everyone except Gaz, who didn’t want to get involved since he, too, was going through some shit.
Soap told him straight away. “Mate, you need to talk to somebody”.
“I got nothing to say”, was his response.
Price was more subtle. Such a tactful guy, your captain. He tried to bring the subject up by sharing his own therapy experiences.
“Opening up and feeling vulnerable was difficult,” he said, “but I pushed through.”
But all he received was a shrug and a stern “glad it worked out for you. I’m fine.”
And you? You tried to cheer him up, calm him down, make him talk.
Nothing.
For the past two months, he has been training daily, hitting that punchbag and bench pressing like a maniac. He was pushing his physical limits, attempting to lift barbells equal to his weight, and you were looking at a person struggling to lift the weight of his conscience.
But he was fine.
Until Gaz came one day and pitched an idea to the captain: “Animal-assisted therapy” they called it. The doctors assigned it to him, and it helped. So, why not give it a try with Ghost?
The lieutenant hated the idea. Hated it. Why? Because “it was pointless and stupid” to him.
Plus, he was fine.
But Price placed his thumbs under his shoulder straps and told him it was an order. And nobody messed with the captain when he put his thumbs under his shoulder straps.
The therapist arrived the following week with Peppa, the dog.
“Peppa, like the pig?”
That was Ghost’s first question. And upon the therapist’s first nod, the follow-up question came.
“Why the fuck would you name the dog Peppa?”
The therapist explained that Peppa’s first patient was a little girl who struggled with anxiety. She named her Peppa after the cartoon character, and the name stuck.
Days turned into weeks, and although he initially protested against the therapy sessions, he was now willingly participating in them. Almost looking forward to them.
“Can’t come to training today; got a meeting with Peppa.” He would say.
Such compliance? From Ghost? How?
You all reached a conclusion because you needed an explanation that could make sense—Ghost wasn’t engaging with the therapist as much; he was opening up to the dog.
Peppa became his silent confidante.
He was playing with her and scolding her for eating too fast. Sometimes, he would ask her “why she was so sad” or “so devious” and why she was always drooling. In response, Peppa would just whine, wiggle her tail, or tilt her head, and Ghost would interpret her reactions as he pleased.
Although you could all see the improvement in his demeanour, you still worried about his well-being.
But whenever you asked him how he was, his response remained the same.
He was fine.
You tried to shift the focus and ask how the therapy was going instead. Yet, Ghost would still cling to his standard response.
Fine.
And then, the therapist advised to do something else instead.
“Ask him how Peppa is doing.”
And that simple question, about the dog’s well-being, unveiled the hidden side of his emotions. He would open up, and recount how Peppa was feeling a bit down one day, seemed too scared another day, or ate very little. He projected his own feelings and experiences onto the dog. He used her as a vessel to express his inner turmoil, revealing his struggles in a way that felt more comfortable and less vulnerable to him.
After all, it was the dog’s struggles, not his own.
He was fine.
“Do you think Peppa gets a payslip every month?” you joked one day as you looked at Peppa lying next to Ghost. “For having a job and all?”
“Peppa was a stray, you know; she always fought to survive.” he replied, kissing her head, “poor thing.”
“Poor thing,” you repeated, this time looking at him.
He knew he wasn’t fine. You all knew.
But Peppa didn’t pressure him to do or say anything.
She wouldn’t urge him to “talk to somebody” or “try meditation.”
She would insinuate, in her own way, that she was there for him.
Looking at him with her tongue out and a wide smile across her face.
Whining and demanding more pets.
Giving him the ball so they can play fetch.
Reminding him that caring for himself was just as important as those gentle scratches behind her ear.
“We’re in this together, human—you will be fine.”
——————————————————————
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x gn!reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#ghost cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare 2#cod mwii#ghost call of duty
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Saw your post about writing, I love older Leon with a younger more naive reader, could you maybe do something along those lines? 👉👈
YES! I’m so glad somebody requested more older Leon, im in love with writing it. I whipped something up as fast as i could but i ended it on a little teaseeee if you guys REALLY like it i’ll finish it!!:))
DISCLAIMER!! this is 18+ ONLY, please do not interact with my blog if you are underaged or don’t have age indicator in your bio!! thank you!!
f!reader x much older Vendetta/ID Leon. Mentions of size difference, slight angst if you squint literally, VERY little smut but it is there. mentions of choking, biting lip. use of pet names (sweetheart, angel, etc.) BIKER LEON HELLO. Leon is obsessed with you, and you’re dumb.
Word count: 1.4k it’s small
Leon always says you were his saving grace. The two of you met during a time in his life where he really needed you. You were bubbly, happy, much younger but he pushed that aside. The only reason you guys met was because you went to go get your brothers bike fixed for him, standing waiting before the mechanic had told you a list of reasons as to why it would cost you almost ten thousand dollars in repairs. You knew enough about cars but nothing about motorcycles, your jaw dropped staring at the man in front of you as you shook your head.
“The tire went out? That was it-“
You cut yourself off, pulling out your check book with a frustrated sigh, before you can even sign on the line a man stepped next to you, squinting at the numbers on the paper then to the mechanic in front of the both of you.
“This what this business is about? Lying to women for no reason?”
The man grabbed the check book scoffing at the astonishing price you were about to pay, the mechanic stuttered over his words before the man once again cut him off.
“Just bring the bike back up front”
You stared at the man in awe. You knew that you were being scammed but you are the one who fucked up the bike so as long as it was fixed you didn’t care. He handed you back your check book and nodded his head towards the workers bringing the bike back up front.
“I’ll fix it for you, no cost too. Well, unless you let me take you to dinner.”
His smile was gorgeous. He was gorgeous. You felt red spread across your face as you nodded, shoving your check book back in your purse as the two of you walked out the front door.
Leon Kennedy was his name, he told you while he propped the bike up, leaning down before swatting his hand signaling you to stand over him and watch him. And he taught you more than you knew, maybe more than you needed to know. You couldn’t help but smile as he stood up, wiping his hands on his pants before looking at you.
“All done.”
And before he could even speak again you pulled your wallet out, grabbing at the cash you had stored. Leon let out a chuckle as he covered your hand with his, shaking his head.
——————
Leon was adamant about taking you to dinner, at least twice a week. Since the two of you met he would pick you up every Monday and Friday, and take you these outrageously fancy and expensive restaurants. Leon stopped his bike, stepping off before grabbing your hand to help you keep your balance as you swung your leg over. The two of you began your walk up the stairs as you rambled on about the girls at your work and how one of them was stealing produce, your words interrupted by Leon’s hand gripping the back of your skirt, pulling it down slightly so it would cover you up more because apparently your skirt rode up on the ride here. Did he just do that? A part of you wanted to yell at him, but physically, your throat went dry and your thighs squeezed together. There was no label on you two, you weren’t girlfriend and boyfriend, but you did spend to much time together. You bit at your cheek as Leon checked you in for your reservations, turning back to you as the waiter walked the two of you to your table. Your hand reached out for the chair but Leon- as smooth as ever he was- brushed beside you, pulling out your chair. You sighed softly, looking up at the man with a smile as you sat down, your ankles crossing over each other. The air was thick between you two but it had been for about the past week. Leon always ordered for you two, mainly because he knew what he was doing. The two of you sat silent as you stared at the menu before you placed yours down, staring at Leon with your eyebrows slightly frowned. He was scanning the menu, his attention not on you of course. He had to have felt the gaze because his eyes flicked up to meet yours, causing him to place down the menu.
“What’s up sweetheart, you seem bothered.”
Bothered was an understatement. Your eyes rolled as before you stared at your glass of water.
“Is it our age gap? Or what? I mean jesus Leon i’m sitting here wondering why I’m not good enough for you..”
Instead of comforting you, Leon let out a chuckle, taking a sip from the wine in his glass. Leon shrugged as he leaned back against the chair with a smug smile on his face.
“Angel, if i didn’t value you and want you to be mine why would i spend almost a thousand a week just to see that pretty smile?”
——————
“He’s what?”
Damien, your brother yelled as you and Leon sat at the table with him, Leon’s hand gripping at your thigh under the table at your brothers outburst. You knew he would react this way when finding out about yours and Leon’s very much prominent age gap of 9 (and a half) years.
“Leon takes care of me Dami.. you don’t have to be mad-“
Damien interrupted you, ranting on about how disappointed mom and dad would be with how you decided to play out your life. Leon lifting you from your seat and basically dragging you out the door made the anger building in your stomach stop.
“We are leaving.”
Leons voice was stern as the two of you walked down the steps of your brothers porch, Damien following behind, arms crossed as he watched Leon carefully place the helmet on your head before he swung his leg over his bike, you following him like a stray puppy, laying the side of your covered head on his back as you watched your brother look at you in disgust.
Leon was silent, but the way he sped down the street told you everything you needed to know. When the two of you finally arrived back at the house, even in his anger he still held the door open for you, when you stepped in he slammed it. sighing as he pulled his jacket off.
“Leon, Im so sorry.”
Leon shook his head watching you play with your fingers, a groan leaving his lips as you folded his jacket for him.
“You are just so..”
Leon grumbled as he grabbed your hips, squeezing them in his much larger hands. You frowned up at him, your hands slowly rubbing up his chest and past his shoulders.
“I love you, it’s not fair.”
Leon nodded down at you, pecking your nose softly before one of his hands left your hip to gently grab at your chin, he took in a deep inhale, he loved the way you smelled. With your strawberry lipgloss and vanilla lotion, he was obsessed with you. The way you would do anything for him, you were his and you knew that too. His lips pressed into yours, his hand that was at your hip sliding to hold your back pulling you closer into him.
Your hands went to pull away from him but he was much stronger, tilting his head into yours causing a soft whimper to fall from your lips as his teeth nipped at your now puffy bottom lip. He pulled back, smirking at the sight of you with your hooded eyes, looking at him like he was the only person in the world. You went to whine something to him but he shushed you immediately, dragging you over to the couch.
“Just don’t talk.”
He mumbled as he sat himself down on his sofa, pulling you between his legs. He admired your outfits more than you knew, the way you always wear cute little skirts for him, or when you guys go out to dinner and you wear that red dress that he fucking adores. Everything hugs your body so perfectly. Your fingertips grazed over his shoulder, your body pushing forward with a gasp as Leon yanked your skirt down your legs, a hum leaving his throat as he gripped at your thighs.
“Leon be careful clothes are expensive!”
You whined with a giggle as Leon dragged you down to the couch, this made you realize just how much stronger and bigger Leon really was, the shyness washing over you as he hovered over you, his hand grabbing at your throat gently, he didn’t want to hurt you (yet).
“I told you not to talk, you act like I don’t buy you all those skimpy little skirts anyways..”
#leon kennedy#leon kennedy angst#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy smut#older leon kennedy#older leon plz#vendetta leon#Infinite darkness leon#thank you anon#leon kennedy fluff#resident evil x reader
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Pretty Girl
Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader
author’s note: I finally caves and joined the Ghost pit. This is my first real attempt at writing full smut so be gentle lmao. Reader’s callsign is “Necro”
warnings: smut, talk of body issues, mention of injury.
word count: 2k
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Soap enjoyed needling the masked soldier more than any of you did of course, but maybe that's just because he could get away with it more.
You said it’s because Ghost had a soft spot for him.
“Bet you live a real double life Lt.”
“How so?”
He sits across from you, long legs stretched out under the rickety table covered in turned over cards from the others that turned in earlier. You're hardly playing anymore, but the way his boot knocks against yours every other minute keeps you from getting up.
“You’re a right fucking terror but I’d bet money on you being some secret softie.” It’s a poor attempt at getting him to lose focus. So he doesn’t see Soap’s knee bouncing like a blinking beacon he got dealt a shit hand.
Ghost doesn’t budge.
“You see me as the picket-fence type, Johnny?”
“Wife and kids too, I’d bet.” He plucks a card from the deck and grins. “Probably the coach of the football team and everything.”
While the idea of your Lieutenant coaching some junior soccer league - and no doubt getting entirely too angry at a bunch of six year olds taking the ball in the wrong direction - was arguably fucking hilarious-
You noticed a shift the moment Soap spoke to him.
Ghost draws up, like a string inside him had pulled taught. Something flashes in his eyes then disappears just as quickly.
Soap looks to you before dropping his eyes to the cards in his hand.
An exposed nerve neither one of you were aware even existed has just been pulled open in the middle of a poker game and nobody knew how to tend to it’s bleeding.
“I call bullshit on that.”
You could certainly try though.
“Guy like you?” Ghost turns and suddenly that silent tremor of anger is being shot your way instead of Mctavish’s. He seems grateful for it. At least you assume he is, since you're putting your ass on the line for him now.“Would definitely be a shit husband.”
It’s nothing. A light jab at the kevlar covered core of the man across from you who could arguably very well be somebody’s husband -none of you truly know much about him aside from the origin of his accent and his own horrid humor he terrorizes you all with. But it’s enough. His shoulders slump and the tension in the room ebbs away as he leans forward on his knee, cards completely neglected in his hand.
“What makes you so sure?”
You toss your own hand on the table. Cards splay out in front of them both and you hear Soap mumble a barely legible ‘fucking cheat’ as you stand.
“Call it a woman’s intuition.” You nod towards Ghost, who watches you through narrowed eyes as you leave.
“I’m turning in. Have fun with the full house.”
You count ten minutes into their next game before the door opens. You don’t bother turning over from your spot on the creaking couch you’ve played yourself out. It’s only a matter of seconds from when Ghost enters the room that he’s tugging the blanket off of your body.
“Your lack of subtly is becoming appalling lieutenant-”
A sudden pull at your hips leaves you falling face first into a dusty pillow until your ass is in the air and he’s tugging your pants down at a frantic pace. Teeth graze the inside of your thigh and you groan.
“Don’t give a fuck about subtly tonight.”
Clearly.
“Had more pressing matters to attend to.”
“You let Soap win?”
Two fingers slip beneath the band of your panties and slide through the slick of your cunt. Your mouth opens in a silent scream as presses himself against your ass, cock straining against his fatigues.
Sex with Ghost is always powerful. Rough hands pushing and pulling you into place on disciplined muscle in between debriefings. His mask lifted up just high enough that you see a flash of his mouth before he sinks it into the scarred skin of your chest until it blooms with his own bruises.
But it’s different tonight.
Fingers breach the give of your cunt and you dig your fingers into the cushion beneath you.
“That’s it.” His hips rock against yours as you hear the sound of him undoing his belt with his free hand. “Fucking soaked for me, Necro.”
He’s rushing.
The stretch of his cock against your walls tips over the cliff bordering on pain but then he leans down, covering your body with his own and tucking his face into the crook of your neck. Your lieutenant isn’t small by any stretch of the word. The first time you took his cock in full was prefaced by slow orgasms pulled from your body with his tongue and fingers until you were trembling for him. Even then he slowly sank into you inch by inch until you were grabbing at his shoulders to make him move. But now there is no warm up or gentle touches. Nothing but stars behind your eyelids and mumbles of “That’s it, darling. Take it.” that rumble from his chest as he begins to drag his cock from the grip of your pussy before sinking it back in at a cruel pace.
You hear the scraping of a chair across the floor in the other room. Most likely Soap turning in for the night. It strikes you with the awareness that neither of you are being particularly quiet.
“Oh, Jesus.”
“Nah. Just me this time.”
What begins as a laugh melts into a shuddering cry you muffle with your own hand until he grabs your wrist, pinning it above your head.
“Don’t do that, Necro. Let me hear you, yeah?” His breath fans out over the back of your neck. “Let me know how good I make you feel.”
“The others-”
“Won’t do a fucking thing about it.” He rasps. “They all know I’d bash their heads in if they even thought of taking me away from you.”
The double meaning makes your head spin but you push it away. It isn’t something you can afford to think about when your slick has begun to drip down your thigh and the room has become nothing but a choir of your voice mixing with his in the most carnal way possible.
The hard surface of his mask bumps the back of your head as his teeth drag against the small of your neck.
He knows you so well it’s angering. Every curve and crook of your body responding to his touch while you’ve yet to see his face.
The civilian part of your brain whispers in your ear and tugs on the thread. That a man who fucked like this while calling you names had surely been swiped up by somebody years prior.
“You know, maybe Soap was right.” You look over your shoulder and grin at him. His mask has slipped ever so slickly that you can see a scar poking out under his eye.
"I've bet you got a pretty girl waiting for you back at home."
"Why would I want a pretty girl when I have you?"
It's said so plainly. So flat and blunt you can’t help but bark out a laugh that has you squeezing his cock as he drills into you.
"You calling me ugly, lieutenant?"
A trained hand wraps around your throat and pulls you flush against his chest. You feel coarse hair rub against your bare back as his hips snap against yours. ‘He took his shirt off.’ you realize. ‘When did he have time to take his shirt off?’
Sneaky bastard.
“I’m calling you mine, Necro.”
He pulls out of your pussy and you barely have enough time to register the empty feeling of your own orgasm dwindling away before he’s flipping you onto your back and slamming back into you.
“You hear me?” Ghost grips your thighs so hard you're sure there will be bruises come morning but you just nod. “Those sweet tits and that wet little cunt are all mine, aren’t they?”
Even as he fucks into you at a brutal pace you can tell something is different. He’s possessive and needy in a way you’ve never seen but welcome nonetheless. Maybe your comment really got to him.
Maybe he does have some lonely little housewife back at home.
“Say it.”
You hope not.
“Say youre all mine.”
Adultery didn't need to join the laundry list of reasons you were going to hell.
His teeth sink into the crook of your neck and you're shocked back into the moment. “Necro-” he rasps. He noses at your cheek, mouthing at your skin like he’s committing you to memory. “C’mon, let me hear it. Say youre all mine.”
He’s begging. Fucking Ghost of Task Force team 141 is begging for you and its giving you a high you'll never be able to kick.
He slides his hand down your stomach and the rough pad of his thumb presses down on your clit and you cry out.
"Say it."
"I'm yours, Ghost."
Ghost groans against your cheek, teeth and tongue flicking out in a mess of a kiss to your salty skin.
“Goddamn right you are. My Necro, my pretty girl. That’s you, isn’t it?”
"Say it." His mouth drags against the shell of your ear as he orders you. "Say 'I'm your pretty girl, Simon'."
For a moment you freeze and he wonders if he's crossed a boundary.
No, fuck that. He knows he's crossed a boundary.
Before this it had only been Ghost or Lieutenant and the occasional "you fucking perv".
But Simon was personal. Simon was raw. It was one inch closer to the man beneath the mask than he had ever let anybody else get to and he’s blurting it out mid stroke like some pussy-drunk highschooler on prom night.
You're looking at him like he just fucking proposed and for a sliver of a second he wonders what that’d be like before ripping the thought to pieces with his incisors.
He wonders if he’s struck a nerve.
The lieutenant had once said something of the ilk before. After an infiltration that left you all walking away exhausted and half of you needing medical attention, he found you in the safe house bathroom, blood dripping from your nose and staining the front of your shirt.
"It looks worse than it is." You defend when he crosses his shoulders and overtakes the space around you. "It's not even broken."
"Yeah." He shifts from one foot to another. "It looks like it's been broken before, though."
The concern coating your face in fear of angering your superior was wiped away at his statement and replaced with a flat expression.
"Well if you want to pay for the nose job-" you turn on your heel to face the dingy bathroom mirror once more and continue cleaning the blood from your face. "-be my fucking guest, sir."
He made it up to you, of course. That same night you had spent three hours finding ecstasy again and again with your legs wrapped around his head, the crooked ridge of his own nose lighting you ablaze with the way it rubbed and dragged against your clit.
You were all broad shoulders and hardened muscles. Hands calloused like his own and he savored the way they felt against his biceps when all you could do was hold onto him and muffle your moans by biting into his shoulder.
Simon was nice like that.
But it didn’t change what you knew. You weren’t pretty. Not in the classic definition.
Some days you were indiscernible from the men on the team. With hair cropped close to your scalp and covered in just as much blood and scars as the others, there was nothing small or lithe about you that stood out in contrast to them all.
Perhaps it was an old insecurity he unearthed on accident. One you thought had been buried away but was slowly uncovered by every poke and prod about your femininity or lack thereof by your teammates. Until years of poorly hidden remarks and self image came barrelling forward from a teammate who was doing his own poorly made attempt of saying something romantic while the two of you screwed in a safe house.
Simon wonders if this is the last time you’ll let him fuck you.
There’s a moment he’s convinced it is. You’re watching him with wide eyes, completely frozen underneath him and he’s about to apologize, something the liutenant doesn’t fucking do and doesn’t know how to do when he’s already balls deep inside of you but then your hands settle on the back of his neck. You take a shaking breath before nodding. “Yeah.” your hands pull him down to you as you speak in a trembling voice that has him drowning.
“I’m your pretty girl, Simon.”
#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon ghost riley x you#ghost & necro tag#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you
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physical therapy, part 6.
--
Hob's been wavering on things like timeline with Dream because, well, he doesn't want to push, but he does obviously want more. There's a lot that he wants, and he thinks Dream wants it too. But Hob can be patient. Definitely. For sure. He's the epitome of patience.
In any case, after a few more dates which are oh so very patient, and in which Dream seems to be gradually coming more and more out of his shell, Hob finally takes the plunge and texts him:
If you want, come over to my place this weekend and I'll cook for you, and adds his address.
He paces nervously while waiting for a response. Dream coming over... he doesn't know how that would end. Well, it would hopefully at least end in Dream eating a proper meal, but other than that...
It's really not so long before he gets a response, though it feels like an eternity.
Okay, writes Dream, with a smile. 🙂 Should I bring anything?
Just yourself, writes Hob.
A shame, for I was planning to arrive incorporeally.
Hob smiles to himself at the comment. Dream is so much brighter once he decides he’s allowed to be.
On the agreed-upon date, Hob spends a truly excessive amount of time getting ready. He’s not even cooking anything elaborate, as he felt convinced he’d wind up fucking it up out of nerves if he did. But really, the quality of his food isn’t the wild card. What he’s nervous about is Dream’s response to being in his home. To being alone. Whether he’ll be okay with it. He doesn’t want to make Dream nervous.
But Dream arrives on time, and he’s smiling when Hob opens the door. He’s also carrying a huge canvas.
Oh!” Hob says, distracted from even kissing him hello. “What have you got there?”
“It is for you,” Dream says, and turns the canvas around so Hob can see it.
It’s a large painting of a rather clever-looking cat, bright colors and bold swathes of paint. It reminds Hob of Dream’s finger paintings, actually, but far more precise in technique. It’s lovely. It’s so cute. And much more playful than Dream’s older art, the pieces he had shown Hob from before his injury.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” he says, and Dream smiles shyly. “I take it your grip’s been feeling steadier, then?”
“Somewhat,” Dream says, following Hob deeper into the flat, as Hob takes the painting and sets it on top of a low bookshelf, propped against the wall. Later he’ll have to hang it up properly. “I am. Enjoying painting again. I think.”
It’s so good to hear. Each time Hob sees Dream he seems incrementally better. Less frozen. More outgoing. And it always makes Hob realize that he’s only gotten to see a fraction of the life that truly exists inside of him.
“I’m so glad to hear that, darling,” he says.
It hurts to think of the version of Dream that might have been there before being hurt. But Hob likes the Dream that he gets to know now.
He leads Dream into the kitchen and bids him to sit down at the table while Hob serves their food, which is staying warm on the stove. Normally, when he invites someone over, he’d offer them wine, but he doesn’t want Dream to get the wrong idea. God, he’s probably massively overthinking things. He’s being totally paranoid, he knows it. But it feels so important that it be right. He’d never forgive himself if he made Dream feel unsafe around him, even if it was by accident.
“I am curious what you’ve prepared to attempt to persuade me to change my habits,” Dream says, after taking a sip of the water Hob’s handed him.
“Something with a lot of butter,” Hob says, and Dream laughs softly. Dream needs it, though. He needs something that’ll stick to his bones.
What he has is tarragon chicken—fried in, truly, an excessive amount of butter—served over rice with string beans. If this can’t encourage Dream to eat real meals, nothing can.
And, gratifyingly, he’s right. Dream devours it, and has seconds. As he eats his own serving more sedately Hob wonders when the last time was that somebody actually cooked for him.
They barely even talk, but Hob doesn’t mind. He just wants Dream to eat.
“You can cook,” Dream says, and Hob laughs.
“Was that in question?”
A light blush graces Dream’s cheeks. “When you first mentioned cooking for me, I had the thought that you were a catch. For that reason among others.”
Hob can’t help himself from smiling—and perhaps blushing a bit, too. “I’ll have to keep it up, and maybe you’ll keep me.”
Dream looks down at his food, but murmurs, “I would like to.”
So Hob takes his hand on the table and squeezes it.
Later in the evening, when they’ve been ensconced on the couch for a while watching mindless telly, Dream’s head on his shoulder, Hob says, “You can stay over if you want. No expectations. Just don’t want you walking home in the dark.”
He’ll walk Dream home if that’s what he really wants, but it’s already midnight and it really might be easier to just stay put.
“Am I allowed to stay over in your bed?” Dream asks, and Hob’s pulse jumps.
“That’s what you want?”
Dream nods.
So, heart still beating hard, Hob says, “Alright. Come on, then.”
And Dream takes his hand as Hob draws him up.
He gets Dream situated with some of his pajamas, which are far too large on him, and with a spare toothbrush and so on, and when they’re finally ready he tries not to be too awkward or nervous as he climbs into bed and gestures Dream to follow, saying, “Come on, love.”
He expects Dream might hesitate, but he doesn’t, just crawls into bed after him and presses himself all up against Hob’s body, laying his head on Hob’s chest. And— God. He’s really decided that he trusts Hob. It puts a lump in Hob’s throat.
He feels like a fucking teenager again, stomach all fluttery just at the feeling of Dream lying against him. In past relationships, Hob had mostly jumped in sex-first, questions-later. But maybe there are more benefits to taking things slow than he thought. It makes every tiny thing feel monumental.
“Comfortable?” he asks, and Dream nods, hair brushing Hob’s chin.
“Yes, thank you.”
Hob pulls the blankets up over them, pets his hair. Dream lets out a long, happy sigh, and snuggles closer.
I’m going to keep you, Hob thinks. “Goodnight, Dream,” he says.
#a nice moment before ANGST#you didn't think we were done with angst did you XD#physical therapy fic#dreamling#my writing#tarragon chicken is a family recipe--thin chicken cutlets breaded and fried in butter with white wine wash and tons of chopped tarragon#i recommend
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acotar x reader: one day at a time
Tw for death:
Reader loses somebody and their friends are there to pick up the pieces. A lil sprinkle sprinkle of az x reader bc that's MY BABYYYY
Lotsssssss of acts of service within the group.
Also bc im a petty asshole i included a snippet of one of my racist aunts who said some wild shit to me at MY SISTERS FUNERAL and just basically dissing her. (literally why would you stare at my poc best friend who's just trying to support me. This bitch stared at MY GIRL?? MY BESTIE???? NUH UH NOT ON MY WATCH BITCH).
Said best friend was just like “she’s never seen a brown person before marie it's fine.”
NO ITS NOT. IDC IF THIS IS MY SISTERS FUNERAL WE’LL MAKE IT A DOUBLE FUNERAL.
I'm petty.
soooo this is born out of grief for my sister. My sister passed away on 03/11/21 and this is very much catered to my grief and these are my comfort characters so naturally i'm gonna write about them when it comes to helping their loved one grieve.
and yeah this is gonna be based around the reader's sister dying. what can i say. I'm on brand.
also reader is feyres childhood friend that got turned into a fae with nesta and elain. i feel like that’s just the staple with my fics.
---------
When you got notified of your sister's death, it was actually a pretty good day up until that point. Sunny day with clouds, a wonderful brunch date with Mor, adorable children at the studio with Feyre. Afterwards, the two of you began walking back to Feyre’s, content on playing with Nyx for the evening before retiring to your own home. When you walked up, Feyre looked at you and told you about how the Inner Circle were having a meeting inside the office. So you two quickly joined them.
When you walked in, Rhysand held out a letter, “this was a letter delivered to you.”
You made a face and grabbed it, “okay, so why are you all staring at me like that?”
“This person walked into the Spring Court and dropped it on Tamlins doorstep.” Cassian said. “They dropped it in the middle of night, just when he wasn’t prowling like a creep.”
“What the fuck?” You asked as you analyzed it.
No name but yours and a pisspoor address.
Lady Y/N L/N
Night Court
“We didn’t know if it was a…” Azriel trailed off, realizing how silly what he was about to say was. “Hence, why all of us are here.”
“We’re also just nosey.” Mor shrugged, her nose wrinkling.
You snorted, and tore into it, “you could’ve opened it.”
“It’s your mail. We may be protective bastards but you still have a right to privacy.” Rhysand drawled.
Feyre stood next to you as you pulled out the paper, your eyes tracing over it.
“It’s from my dad.” You said recognizing his handwriting.
Then, it all went to shit.
Your big sister was dead, the woman you fought with a lot of the time but yet would take a beating for. Your big sister who helped guide you through life, who would always be there even if she was pissed off at you for some inane reason.
Gone.
You just froze, not knowing what to do. You’re pretty sure Az asked you a question, then Cass, then Rhys. Then you felt Feyre’s hand on your shoulder.
I need to leave.
I need to go before I hurt someone.
You just wordlessly handed the letter to her and winnowed away.
You didn’t go to your apartment, you didn’t go to the townehouse, you didn’t go anywhere they would find you.
You went to the middle of the forest. You just picked a random point to lose it.
And you did.
You didn’t remember much of causing the damage. Only that you managed to stop when Azriel’s arms wrapped around you. You just kept screaming.
“I know, I know. It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here.” He said, his lips against your hair.
His shadows wrapped around your hands, cool wind kissing away the raging inferno of your cuts. You collapsed, taking Azriel to the ground.
He just held you as you sobbed. You felt his own tears hit your neck. He usually did a better job masking his emotions, but it was you crying, you who he had a deeper bond with. So he let his emotions run free.
“Y/N!” Feyre called into your mind. Your shields were down and you didn’t even notice.
“Az has me, i’m sorry I-”
“Don’t apologize. I would’ve done worse if I found out…” Her voice trailed off.
“I’m sorry I ran off.”
“Do not apologize.” She said sternly, “After you and Az are done come back to the River House. You can sleep at our house tonight. Guest bed is currently being made up.”
She left your mind before you could respond. You breathed in the smell of Az.
Azriel brought you back to Feyre and Rhysand’s home. Rhys had trouble with touch, but never with you. He brought you into his arms instantly. You tried not to let the tears surface again, but it was quite hard when a brotherly kiss was pressed against your head.
“We got you, Y/N.” He whispered against the crown of your head.
Nuala and Cerridwen made you your favorite food. Which prompted you to start crying again. The twins looked so panicked that it almost made you laugh. Elain made your favorite cookies, which again kept the tears going.
“I don’t know why I’m crying over this.” You said helplessly, you managed to laugh during that.
Feyre and Elain hugged you from both sides.
You retired to the guest bedroom, you found a pile of fluffy blankets and your favorite candy. As well as a bouquet of your favorite flowers with Mor’s handwriting scrawled on the note. Amren left you a bottle of your favorite wine too.
Eventually, after some more tears, there was a knock at your door. You called out for them to come in but saw Nyx.
The little guy was walking even more, speaking full sentences. It’s insane to you that he grew so fast but it has been 5 years since he was born.
“Go on like we practiced.” You heard Feyre encourage from behind the door frame.
“Hi, Auntie.” The little guy mumbled. Holding a glass of water. “I have something for you.”
“Yeah buddy?” You smiled despite the shitty day. Your nephew made everything better.
Rhysand walked in behind him, as did Feyre. Rhysand lifted him up onto the bed while Feyre handed you a cup of hot chocolate.
You were just glad Nyx wasn’t holding the hot drink.
“Here’s some wata.” He said, his small hands handing you the glass.
“Oh thank you.” You said earnestly and took a sip. You set it on the table. Then you laid back down and faced him. “Just what I needed.” You were genuine.
“Auntie, are you sad?” Both Feyre and Rhys froze at their sons question. Clearly, he was going off script.
You sniffed, “yeah, Nyxie. I’m really sad.”
“I love you.” His eyes were so big, so genuine. You were going to cry for a whole new reason.
“I love you more.”
“Nuh uh.” He said, as a typical toddler wanting to argue no matter what.
You huffed a laugh and opened your arms. “Come here.”
He crawled into your arms with no hesitation. You were careful of his little baby wings as you held him close to you.
You loved this kid.
Feyre settled in behind you on the bed, Rhysand joined on the other side with his son.
They held you as you drifted off into a dreamless sleep, hoping to see your sister one last time.
————————
When it came to planning the funeral, you had to go out to your family’s cottage to help. You said you could go alone, but frankly, good luck telling Nesta and the Valkyries to stay behind when one of their own is in pain.
So when you saddled up to your family with three warriors behind you, they were scared a bit to say the least.
Emerie held your hand during the funeral discussion as Nesta watched the director to make sure she wasn’t insensitive to you. Gwyn stood guard behind you. They were protectors, they were not gonna leave one of their girls to deal with this alone.
Eventually, the funeral was planned. The rest of your chosen family came out and surprised you. You sent a notice to them of when the funeral was and told them they didn’t need to come because you knew how busy they were.
When they showed up on your family’s doorstep to surprise you, you started crying again.
——-
The day of the funeral, it was the entire inner circle crammed into the living room of the cottage of your mortal family’s living space.
You felt bad cramming two males with wings into that small space, especially with so many other people. But Cassian and Azriel assured you that there’s nowhere else they would be.
You slept sharing a flimsy mattress with Elain, since the other two sisters were with their mates. But Feyre and Rhys slept close. So did Nesta and Cassian. Both women facing your general direction.
Azriel did not sleep. He wanted to be there in case you woke up in tears again.
Amren slept sitting up against a wall, she wouldn’t admit it but she wanted an eye on you. She only trusted hers.
Mor was curled on the other side of you. You were sandwiched between her and Elain.
Emerie and Gwyn slept down by your guys’ legs. Emerie’s head on Mor’s thigh. Gwyn hugging Elain legs in her sleep.
Azriel chose not to mention what happened when your dad came downstairs in the middle of the night to check on you.
It was as if he wasn’t sure if you’d really be there. He just lost one daughter, he didn’t want to lose another.
He nodded at Azriel who nodded back. Assuring him that you weren’t going anywhere. That you always had people watching out for you.
As everyone got ready, it was a somber moment. Elain did your hair, Mor did your makeup, Amren set out your jewelry and Feyre handled your clothes. They didn’t want you doing anything.
Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie let your nephew and niece play with their swords. It was the one thing they seemed interested in so they let them do it.
Rhysand was currently trying to get your dad to accept a check from him and Feyre to pay for everything plus anything else your parents need during this time. Your father was refusing. Rhys spoke bluntly. “Your daughter is my family, please let me take care of her family.”
Your dad didn’t. But Rhys hid the check in your dads night table. He felt yucky going into their room but did it to make sure they got the check.
On the way to the funeral, Azriel had offered his arm for you to take, which you gratefully did. Rhysand got the door for you. Az led you in. The overprotective bat boys acted like your body guards, which you appreciated, however you couldn’t help but giggle a little bit at it.
Nesta told you before the funeral to let her know if you wanted her to intervene to keep some relatives away.
One of your (racist) aunts kept telling you how you’re responsible for your sister's kids. Then when she saw Azriel, Cassian, Rhysand, Amren and Emerie, she just stared. Before you could intervene, Elain and Gwyn stood in front of them.
You almost wacked her so hard it was going to be a double funeral. You had prepared them before that some relatives were racist. They didn’t give a rat's ass.
Oh and then everyone in your party including you were Fae. That also did not help.
Hence why you lived in Velaris, away from all the bigotry.
During the service, Feyre sat on one side of you, Amren on the other side. Feyre clutched your hand and Amren even held out her hand for you. She always had a soft spot for you. Mor’s makeup didn’t last long throughout the service which is why she did bare minimum on your face.
Afterwards, you left pretty soon after the service was done. You just had to leave the building. You guys went to a pub in your funeral attire. Azriel sat next to you and Nesta on the other side. Rhys refused to let you pay. But you knew he was trying to get you riled up. It was working.
He was incredibly happy to see the fire return to your eyes.
At that moment, with your family, you knew you were going to be okay.
Just have to take every day one step at a time.
#acotar#acofas#acomaf#acowar#feysand#acotar x reader#nesta x reader#nesta x cassian#feysand x reader#azriel x reader#cassian x reader#elain x reader#emerie x reader#mor x reader#morrigan x reader#gwyn x reader
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take my hand * ls2
the princess, to inherit the throne after marriage, is having the hardest time trying to find a man to wed. until, a certain duke of somewhere comes riding in to ask for her hand
pairings: prince!logan x princess!reader
word count: 4.6k
notes: just a short long introductiON!! ugh, there's a lot more to this i think and i'm so excited for this like u cant make this shit up, thank u to the turtle anon who requested this tbh i never would have thought of this my fucking self!! AHHH tell me wht u think bc i spent 3 days drafting and writing this and i'll retire if i dont know what u think of it
(f1 masterlist)
your hands grab your skirt as you move one foot in front of the other. you bend your knees as you curtsy and drop your head. "i hope that you didn't find your stay to be a waste of time, your majesty. i can only offer my sincerest apologies.”
"princess, please," a laugh makes you lift your head with an unimpressed expression flashing on your face, "i told you to call me max. and, it's okay. perhaps we were not the best match."
"truly," you smile, resting your hands on your poofed-up gown that covers your legs. "i do, however, really did enjoy your stay. i learned a lot about the world while you were here."
max glances at the carriage that approaches the front steps that lead to the castle. "text me when you do find the love match you're looking for, princess," he smiles, turning to you politely. "shame that it could not be prince charles."
"do not bring that up. it is unlike me to be so particular of something so... superficial," you laugh, a hand coming up to your mouth. "i'll extend an invite to you for the wedding - if there will ever be one."
"you're absolutely lovely," he straightens his shirt. "i'm sure there will be somebody that will put an end to your long search for a husband."
"a princess can only dream," you shrug. you take a step forward when the carriage stops right by you, mirroring the step he takes to initiate his departure. "texting buddies, okay? take pictures of bangkok for me when you pay a visit to prince alex."
"your wish is my command," max smiles. he holds his hand out to you, palm facing up. "want to hear one more fun fact about geography before i leave?"
you shake your head with a polite smile, lifting your hand and tilting your head as he takes it into his. "please just leave, max. no more fun facts."
"fine. i shall text you one when i arrive in the netherlands," he teases you, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.
that was how the week ended for you. you waved as you watched prince max's carriage ride off into the sunset, towards the exit of your castle. you then sigh when he is no longer in sight. you turn around to face the exterior of the castle you called home for the entirety of your life.
at the large doors, your younger brother stands with his arms folded over his chest. "debrief, sister?"
"yes," you mutter, grabbing what you can of your petticoat and skirt, and hurrying up the stairs. "did you manage to sneak sabine in? she has to be there for the debrief."
"in your bedroom with a bottle of expensive champagne and orange juice as per your request," mick mutters, turning on his heel as you pass him at the doors. "before you run off, however, mother looks for you."
"tell mother i am busy," you frown, hastily navigating the long hallway to try and get to your room. realistically, your farewell with max lasted much longer than you would have liked. but, he is now considered a friend.
“sister,” mick says with a bewildered expression on his face. “she will shave my head if i say that to her.”
you grin. “good, then i get to keep my hair.”
“it’s important, she emphasised. something about a new guest for next week.” mick jogs to catch up to you, stomping his foot into the ground when you come to a halting stop. he smiles apologetically at you. “i hate to be the bearer of bad news for you, sister.”
you fight the urge to roll your eyes. your grasp only tightens around your skirt. “another guest so soon? is she so desperate to hop off the throne and ride off into the sunset with father for an early retirement?”
mick sighs and shakes his head. “you know it’s not like that.”
“all i asked of her is that she gives me a week break between all of the men she is throwing at me! i have not had a moment to myself in three weeks!” you ramble, picking up the weight of your dress again. you charge down the hallway. “i’ve barely had the time to listen to the voices in my head, brother.”
“i told you to stop making that joke — it’s not funny!”
“it is!”
“it could very well be existent — the voices in your head. what are we to do if you truly turn out to be a lunatic of some sort?”
mick is ahead of you a couple of steps again when you halt your footsteps. “you’re saying you’d love me less if i were to be diagnosed to be a lunatic?”
he presses his lips together. “i should tell mother about the time you took body shots off of frederik at that one party i snuck you into.”
“perhaps i shall tell mother about your escapades with the help,” you point out. your smile slowly turns triumphant when mick rolls his eyes and takes a step back. “exactly.”
“i’ll see you in your bedroom, devil spawn,” mick says through his teeth. he glances down the hall and turns on his heel. he leans into you slightly with a smirk. “bring laila. tell her i miss her.”
“take the piss, mick,” you scoff. you continue your way down the hallway and make a quick right. the stairwell leading up to your bedroom almost tempts you, but the silence of the hallway makes your mother’s voice briefly flashes in your ear.
you can almost imagine the fallout if you ignored her this time. so you take one more step down the hallway and knock on the door. from the corner of your eye, you can see someone approaching you. “princess.”
you slowly turn your body to face them and tilt your head. “laila.”
“how was the farewell with prince max?” she giggles, hovering behind you as you wait for your mother’s response. “glad to be on your own, i hope.”
“yes, until you realise that i’m here because mother,” you knock again, “has found another bachelor to terrorise me with either his questionable fashion or weird love for countries that are not his own! for the next week!”
the door finally opens, knocking you back a step as the sudden intrusion of your complaints. you were not done rambling on about the failed courtships that you have had to endure in the last couple of months.
“there you are, mother. i was wondering if mick was simply trying to get rid of me by telling me you needed me,” you grumble, walking straight into the tea room she locked herself in. “question: why is mick telling me about another suitor coming in the next week?”
“ah,” your mother smiles. “yes. i’ve been meaning to speak to you about him, but you seemed busy with prince max. actually, i thought i might have to call off the duke of florida.”
you raise an eyebrow and turn to her. “but mother, i need a break.”
she shrugs in return, throwing her arms in the air. she walks back to the table in the far corner of the room where her tea is set. “he is a very busy man, darling.”
“i’m a busy woman!” you shriek, taking all offence to what your mother is trying to imply. “are you saying his time is more valuable than mine? i am a princess, to inherit the throne upon marriage — he is just a duke.”
your mother doesn’t respond, but takes a seat at her table and smiles at you. you glance at laila, standing quietly by the door with her hands clasped together. you turn back to your mother.
“some might say he will only turn out to be my trophy husband if all of this works out the way you want it to!”
“please, watch yourself! is that what you learned when we let you go out to uni?” your mother scolds you with a bewildered expression on her face. “well, it’s no wonder you cannot find a husband. we are running out of eligible bachelors, just to inform you.”
you part your lips, chest heaving as you try and process — yet again — the underlying meaning of her words. “postpone the courtship.”
“i simply cannot. and, it would be rude of me as he is already en route,” she sips on her tea, “he arrives in the morning.”
“i-“ you cut yourself off and take a deep breath. “whatever.” you turn on your heel and march towards the door. “let’s go, laila. let’s have one last debrief before i give in to my true desire to throw myself out of the bloody window.”
“behave, (y/n)!”
you kick your feet up as you pour orange juice into the champagne flute. "kind fernando was fine, actually," you say, pointing at the picture that flashes on the wall of your bedroom. "it's just unfortunate that he was a bit too old for me."
"a bit?" mick scoffs, turning to you. he is on your bed, duvet pulled up to his shoulders, with one of his arms poking out to hold his champagne flute. "he's ten years younger than father, you think he is only a bit old?"
you stare at him. "it's just twenty years - it could have been worse."
"she's deranged," sabine says, half her upper body laying on your bed while her legs are on the ground of your carpeted floor. "don't mind her. so, next failed date."
the picture immediately changes, now prince george of britain is plastered on your wall in all his glory. you sigh and throw your head back into your chair. “this one is just such a shame.”
“that he’s much sassier than you,” mick grins, turning to you. “you reckon he’s…”
“definitely not. he told me he’s in love with a mundt,” you mutter. “but prince alex told me it’s complicated — mundt is arranged to marry someone else!”
laila gasps, turning to you from the corner of the room. "have you got a groupchat with all the royals or something?"
"no, prince alex is just my bestie," you beam, turning back to the screen. "i'd have married him on the spot if princess lily wasn't already with him."
"you don't like prince alex like that," mick mutters, side eyeing you with a small scowl. "if you were so open to marrying friends, why didn't you just marry prince max?"
"because he was born to be irritating." you shake your head. "and i'm not interested in geography like that. i can't have that for the rest of my life."
"okay, but what was wrong with the crown prince of monaco? he was sculpted by the gods," sabine mutters, changing the slide. objectively, he very well could have been the one that ended all of this for you.
but there was something about his odd fashion choices that made you pull away about three days into his stay in the palace. you lied through your teeth about it simply not being a love match, but never told him about the real reason. it just seems quite mean and intentional if you brought that up.
"not his fashion sense," you mutter. you turn to laila. "why are you standing the corner? don't you want to cuddle with your boyfriend who's already made a home out of my bed?"
"no, princess, i'm at work," she whispers, shaking her head. "more champagne?"
"ridiculous," you mutter, pointing at mick. "when we're in this room and those doors are closed, you are my friend. and his secret girlfriend. so please, kick the shoes off and cuddle before i change my mind."
mick grins, pushing the blankets from his torso. he opens up one of his arms for her. "i told you she doesn't care."
"yeah, but i work for her," laila mutters, climbing into your bed hesitantly and snuggling up into mick's side.
you put your drink down on the table and readjust the projector set up next to you, sharpening the quality and readjusting it to ensure that everyone can see the pictures proper. "don't need to remind me i'm single, you guys."
"you should have just given prince charles a chance," sabine mutters with an eyeroll. she looks at you with her lips pressed together. "i keep telling you - that prince was a catch despite the weird fashion sense."
you switch to the next slide. "fluorescent yellow is up next,” you mutter. “prince lando is so funny.”
“i’m going to tell you again, sister,” mick looks over at you, “funny isn’t going to rule your people properly.”
you roll your eyes and take a swig of your mimosa. “he didn’t even want to court me in the first place — his mother talked him into it,” you explain, shaking your head. “we’re mutuals on instagram!”
“are you even allowed an instagram account?” mick laughs, remembering all the lectures you both would received growing up about behaviour on social media.
“i know you’ve got a private one,” you clear your throat, “as do i. it was very handy for uni.”
“true that,” sabine agrees with you, nodding with a wide smile. “i’m your biggest fan. she’s got the most ratchy stuff in there, mick. you don’t follow her?”
“no, we’re not that close,” mick shakes his head with a giggle. “so, prince lando essentially… just isn’t looking to be married so soon?”
“unfortunately not. but that’s absolutely none of my business,” you giggle, sinking into your seat comfortably. you flip to the next picture and hum in satisfaction. “and the latest one to add to our collection.”
“ah, prince max,” mick grins. he looks at laila. “he was lovely, wasn’t he?”
laila presses her lips together and giggles. she nuzzles into mick’s side, resting her head on his shoulder. “he was very friendly. i quite liked him during his stay.”
“as did my sister, i believe,” mick teases. “do you know how many fun facts prince max knows about the world?”
“ah, i’ve spoken to him,” sabine nods with a soft giggle. she pushes herself up onto the bed, stomach down and rests her head flatly. “he was very nice.”
“she snuck you in somehow this week?” mick turns to you. “very defiant, sister. were you not afraid that mother would catch you sneaking a commoner into the palace again?”
you press your lips together and nod enthusiastically. “max wanted gin and tonics.”
“wow, first name basis,” laila teases, covering her lips with her hand. “he was a talkative drunk, my love, but he is very delightful to be with. did you not converse with him when he was here?”
"i was busy with my finals up until this afternoon," mick sighs, shaking his head. "though, i overheard dear sister over there telling prince max he will be invited to the wedding. so, i will see him again."
"you're such a snitch, mick," you grunt as you roll your eyes. "but anyway, i've got a prince something coming in tomorrow for another week of courtship."
sabine lifts her head to look at you. "seriously? did your mother tell you who it is? shall we search him up on google so we can form first opinions before his arrival?"
mick lifts an eyebrow, moving his head to the side while he maintains his judgemental stare at your best friend. "isn't that a bit much?"
you hum. the thought of google searching for the duke of florida is very tempting. while you do typically let sabine go and do her own investigative searches ahead of time for you to assess how much fun you might have in the time of courtship, it feels like this one is too soon to be able to prepare for it.
you reach over to the projector and turn it off, rolling your eyes at the chorus of disappointment that your entourage voices out. "not for this one, i fear," you stand up and readjust your pyjama shirt. "the duke of florida will have to simply remain a mystery to us all until sunrise."
"what?" sabine slumps her shoulders as disappointment laces her words. "but i won't even be here for his arrival. that's unfair, princess! i insist on sticking around!"
you perk up at the suggestion. you clench your jaw as your face lights up with an idea, turning to your best friend with a small smile. "you're right. you should stay, sabine." you turn to mick with a small smile. "she should stay, shouldn't she, brother?"
he raises an eyebrow in response, and you scowl at the way laila is also staring at you in curiosity. "and how do you suppose you will make that possible? mother will not allow."
"but father will," you beam, "father will not say no. he loves sabine as much as he loves me."
mick gives you a thumbs up. "i would never have thought that you were a daddy's girl, sister."
you roll your eyes and head for the door. "i will find father and i shall convince him to let sabine stay."
"oy." you hear a tired voice before your body is shaken. the duvet is pulled up to your back with your face nuzzled into the pillow. "mother asked me to wake you."
"brother, i wish to wake up one day and not have you pester me," you mutter, rubbing your eye as you lift your head.
"you had that the entirety of my semester when i was away for uni," mick laughs. you feel the bed dip and a hand on your shoulder. next to you, sabine lifts her head to glare at mick. "ah, i seem to have woken up your partner-in-crime as well. mother didn't ask for you, only my sister."
"ah, fuck off. you're not the prince of anything to me, mick schumacher, i've seen you hunched over the bathroom with puke on your lips," sabine mutters, slowly sitting up. she turns to you. "are you ready for another potential bachelor?"
"how late did you sleep, sabine?" you hum, sitting up as well. you sigh and lay your weight on mick's back, resting your head on his shoulder. you glance over at her, assessing the shadows under her eyes. "have you even slept?"
"couple hours," she giggles, tearing off the duvet off her body. "i was up all night researching this duke of florida. i'm very excited for my stay in your palace, princess."
mick chuckles, looking over at the older girl that paces around your room. he looks at you and rests his cheek on the top of your head. "i suggest you start getting ready before mother is the one that asks you."
"just give me a minute," you whisper, shaking your head. truthfully, you were just not ready to be courted by another eligible bachelor. while you have yet to meet anyone who would generally make you gouge your eyes out, being courted endlessly for days is just not a very ideal situation.
you never know - the duke of florida might actually might be the one that throws you over the edge.
the sound of heels echoing in the hallway makes you and mick perk up, the tone and the pace of it being too familiar. you hop off the bed and grab the skirt of your nightgown. mick hops to his feet and jogs over to the door. "okay, i shall get up now."
you take a deep breath as you stare at the stairwell that would lead you towards your potential death. you can hear your mother and father conversing at the end of the stairs.
you take a deep breath as you hunch over the railing that grants you a look at your family and the door. it never gets any easier meeting these men of high status almost week after week, hopeful to ask for your hand at the end of it all.
and it doesn't get any easier trying to find gentle ways to reject these men either. they're very receptive to your rejection, which always gives you some sort of comfort when the time comes, but you're sure they are only this graceful about it because you are a princess.
you're very well aware that the average man would not react that way, very telling of your experiences in university. often, your brother would have to come in between, or the bodyguard loitering in the area (that your father insists should always be around) would have to come to your rescue and whisk you away.
"don't be so nervous, sister," mick mutters, appearing next to you with his hands in his pockets. "i'm sure the duke of florida would not be any worse than the other men that have had a go at asking for your hand. otherwise, mother would have never let him stay here with us."
you take a deep breath. "what if he's another," you look around and lean into mick, "loser? what am i to do then?"
mick shrugs with a soft chuckle. he lifts his elbow and offers it to you, gesturing at the stairwell. "then you tell father and i - we shall take care of the rest for you, princess," he taps your hand when you grab onto his arm, "let's go?"
you nod and let your younger brother guide you down the stairs.
"ah, sweetheart, good morning," your father grins when he takes notice of your presence, stretching out an arm to you. mick drops his arm when you approach your father, throwing yourself into his body for a hug. "is something wrong?"
"i no longer feel like being an heiress to the throne," you mutter softly, avoiding the daggers that your mother is shooting at you next to the older man in front of you. you sigh when he pinches your cheek gently. "just a little tired."
he laughs, patting your back lightly. "you will be okay. the first day is always the best." he looks at your mother. "come on, love. cut her some slack."
"yeah, mother," you smile teasingly, peeking at your mother. "what if the duke of florida actually turns out to be a creep this time? i would be the first to say 'i told you so'."
"not before me, i hope," mick mutters from the window sill, covered by the blinds that shield your entryway from the outside. "i think he's here, sister."
"are you sure?"
mick lifts the curtain from his body and turns to you with a frown. "are you expecting any other royal company?"
"i ought to shave your head in your sleep one night, you know," you bicker. you take a deep breath and pick up your skirt and petticoat from the ground.
you turn around and glance at sabine, hiding shyly behind the door to the study down the hall. she gives you a thumbs-up while you sigh and turn back to the door.
"laila," you sigh, your hand slightly coming out to beckon for her to come towards you. "you stayed up with sabine looking into this guy, i hope?"
"yes, princess," she nods firmly, glancing at mick by the window. "he looks decent. but again, pictures on the internet and interviews can only say so much about a person."
"that's what he is here for - to show you who he is," your father smiles, gesturing towards the door.
you take a step back as the grand doors are pulled open for you. you squint your eyes at the sudden brightness of the sun outside and you hold a hand above your eyes to shield yourself away from the sun.
in fact, there's now a carriage pulling up to the front porch steps of the main building in the palace you call home. you step outside, followed shortly by mick and then your parents.
the carriage comes to a stop, catching your breath in your throat as you anticipate who, or what, will walk out to greet you. perhaps you should have let yourself indulge in the google search that your brother did with your best friends.
two men walk out first, and of course you know that neither of them is the man who will potentially ask for your hand. until a young man steps out, sandy brown hair and a polite smile on his face. he catches your eye and does a bow to acknowledge you.
"i suppose he does not look so bad," you mutter under your breath, leaning towards laila who stands slightly behind you. "he looks... like he would be a normal guy."
"i hate to break it to you, sister," mick mutters under his breath.
you hum in response, unsure of what he means. then he takes a step aside from the door while he readjusts the sleeves of his dark orange suit. another man steps out of the carriage, sporting a royal blue motif with the weirdest mix of brunette-blonde for a hair colour. you make a mental note to ask him if he's done anything to his hair as a conversation starter.
"but that's the duke of florida," laila follows up softly. "we've got no idea who the other man is."
your mother takes a step forward with her chin high in the air. she passes you as she starts greeting the two young men. "welcome!"
you turn to your father. "who the hell is that? why are there two of them?" you turn back to the carriage where your mother is now making their acquaintance. "is this a prank, father?"
to which, he only shrugs. "i intend to find out as much as you, princess."
he puts a hand on your shoulder to urge you towards the steps to greet them. as you step down, you can hear mick chuckling. "quite a situation you've gotten yourself into, sister. two suitors at the same time?"
"they fight at dawn on the last day for her hand," laila jokes softly enough for only mick and yourself to hear.
you swat at them from the back of your skirt to hush their giggles, slowly coming to a stop where the men gathered.
"sweetheart," your mother beams, walking over to you. she wraps a hand around your arm and pulls you with her to take a step forward to them. "introduce yourself."
"princess," the unnamed man in dark orange greets you with a small smile. "pleasure to make your acquaintance. prince of australia; i'm oscar."
"ah," you grab your skirt and move your feet in front of the other, "pleasure to make your acquaintance."
the prince of australia - oscar, nudges his friend forward. he straightens his back and gives you a smile, and you notice the way his green eyes sparkle as they stare into yours.
"duke of florida," he whispers, "i'm logan. thank you for having me."
he bends slightly and presents his hand right by yours. you press your lips together as you lift it slightly, just enough to give him the green light to take your hand into his.
you're pleasantly surprised when he presses a kiss to your gloved hand. "i hope i don't waste your time, princess."
you smile as you prepare yourself for another curtsy before he shakes his head. he puts your hand down gently, resting in on your skirt before taking a respectful step back. "you're the princess," he smiles. "no need for that."
you nod. "i'm sure your travel had been longwinded and exhausting. care for some refreshments?"
#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant x you#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x you#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1
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SERENDIPITY ✦ DR3
“Serendipity is an unexpected and very lucky finding, that is, a coincidence that fills us with happiness. Serendipity in love implies the feeling that the universe conspires in our favor, bringing that special person into our lives at the right time and oh boy, did the universe send her everything she ever needed in the form of a 5'10" man with a built-in accent, a love for Tim Tams, adrenaline-fueled spirit and a smile that could light up a whole town.”
✦ pairing: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader
✦ type: social media au
✦ face claim: becky g
✦ warnings: female!reader, covid-19 & quarantine mentions, age gap, language.
✦ pit wall live: HAPPY FRIENDSHIP DAY BESTIES! 🤗💗 I've been working on this for a month, honestly I thought I was gonna finish it fast but tbh that was really naïve of me 🥴 the amount of times I ended up changing almost every little thing is insane lol but today I sat down and commited to finish and post this! this is my first ever smau or any kind of 'x reader' really, so please be kind 🤍 and of course it was going to be about the love of my life!
— oh btw, my idea is to get to present time and make it angsty so let me know what you guys think! I really hope you enjoy!
─── The Joker & The Queen (Masterlist)
JANUARY 01, 2020
yourinstagram and danielricciardo added to their stories!
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danielricciardo has followed yourinstagram!
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yourinstagram
♡ liked by anitta, danielricciardo and 6,546,214 others
yourinstagram 2019 was full of happiness, pain, healing and growth. I loved a lot, I cried a lot and I laughed a lot. I'm grateful for a lot of things in life, but I'm specially grateful for you guys ❤️🥂 I LOVE YOU! ❤️
tagged: selenagomez, fioamato, iamdannaschwarz, itsvittoriasousa
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fioamato It's out with the old and in with the new ⏭️😜
iamdannaschwarz this could be the start of something new indeed 😏🤭
yourinstagram 🙈
user yourinstagram girlieee does this mean you found your Troy Bolton tonight? 👀👀👀
iamdannaschwarz what a year it has been! Through the ups and downs you prevailed. So proud of you! Cheers, amiga! 🥂❤️
itsvittoriasousa u deserve the whole world, i wish everyone knew ur heart 🥺 love you biiiiiiig ❤️
user1 can we talk about that dress!!!! jaw dropped 🤯
user2 Mami 🔥🔥🔥
selenagomez ❤️🥂🎆
user3 danny ric you ain't slick baby we can see u 👀
user4 words on the streets that they were seen pretty close the whole night 👀
user5 girlies do we think the writing on the napkin belongs to mr. ricciardo? 🧐
user4 what about the last pic?? could it be about a nod to him???
user3 somebody call the fbi and the cia we need to decode this 🔎🔎🔎
sebastianyatra una locura de año 🚀 happy new year penguin!
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JANUARY 25, 2020
justjared
♡ 9.075 Likes
justjared New couple alert?! YN LN, 21, and Formula 1 driver Daniel Ricciardo, 30, were spotted on a walk and getting cozy during a night out in New York. More photos now on JustJared.com #YNLN #Daniel Ricciardo Photos: Backgrid
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user1: well that's a couple nobody saw coming 😶 good for them tho
user2: These pictures are so creepy as to get these they literally have to stalk these people and are probably hiding in bushes or wherever to get the shots
user3: he's a full-grown man in his 30s messing around with a teenager how shocking 🙄
user4: how is she a teenager if she's 21??? she is a consenting adult and has been for a while...make it make sense
user5: it's a 9-year age gap not 25 😑 y'all should learn to mind your own fucking business
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FEBRUARY 05, 2020
danielricciardo added to their story!
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yourinstagram added to their story!
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yourinstagram
♡ liked by danielricciardo, greeicy and 7,452,325 others
yourinstagram starry nights, sunsets, little moments, deep conversations & special feelings 💖🃏
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iamdannaschwarz pov: you were there to witness the first conversation 🤣
itsvittoriasousa never knew a person could blush that hard 😂
yourintagram you are both getting blocked 🙅♀️
fioamato 🃏🃏🃏
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michaelitaliano and scottyjames31 have followed yourinstagram!
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MARCH 11 & 12, 2020
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yourinstagram has added to their story!
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APRIL 09, 2020
yourinstagram
♡ liked by danielricciardo, jbalvin and 5,723,498 others
yourinstagram Quarantine with an aussie boyfriend: turns out, 'G'day mate' is the only greeting you'll ever need. Who needs handshakes anyway? Also, you get to excessively use the word 'mate' without being judged. It's basically a linguistic free pass 🤷🏽♀️😂🇦🇺
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user: OMG OMG IT'S FUCKING HAPPENING!!!! EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!!
user: Dan-Y/N nation how we feeling today? 😍
user: wasn't she dating sebastianyatra tho?
user2: nah they've been friends for years
user3: «cristina» is lowkey about her tho 🤭 "you were 19, i was 23"?? and there's a 4 year age gap between them?? they deffff had something going on a few years back AT LEAST 👀
user2: who knows maybe they did, but they refer to each other as "like-a-brother" and "like-a-sister" so as far as we know they are only best friends 🤷🏽♀️
fioamato what do you say titi yourmomsinstagram does it get the seal of approval?
yourmomsinstagram 🤔🤔🤔
yourinstagram she face-timed me and told me to pass the phone so she could talk to him. They talked for an hour. They are besties now, she's just trying to play hard-to-get 🙃
danielricciardo and 5,345 other liked it
fioamato 😂😂😂
jbalvin encantado de verte feliz hermanita ❤️
danielricciardo tell your boyfriend he's really lucky 🤙🏼
yourinstagram thanks will do, mate 🤙🏼
user OMG??? you guys are so unserious 😭
user2 MOM??? DAD???
user3 danielricciardo yourinstagram i'm glowing, flourishing and thriving 🥰😭
michaelitaliano shitty accent though
yourinstagram I love my haters ❤️ you guys are my motivators ☺️ btw don't you have a kangaroo to fight?
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APRIL 29, 2020
yourinstagram
♡ liked by michaelitaliano, danielricciardo, lewishamilton and 6,498,498 others
yourinstagram Spanglish country…we’re doing it!! Watch kanebrown_music and I blend sounds, languages and dance moves in #LostInTheMiddleOfNowhere (Spanish Remix) 😜 song and video OUT NOW 🔥
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iamcardib OKAAAY MAMAAA 🧊🧊🥶
lali ALTA DIOSA 🔥
user she 👏 never 👏 misses 👏
itsvittoriasousa BRO U ABSOLUTELY ATEEE
user jaw drops to floor eyes pop out of sockets hearts out of chest 😍
danielricciardo wow caliente 🔥
user the amount of unwell I am in this exact moment
user2 daniel is right. muy caliente 🥵
user3 i'm losing my mind over 2 words + emoji okay
user4 daniel stop being a cunt and make an appearence in one of Y/N's ig lives
user5 user4 you could totally hear his voice in the last one lmao
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MAY 03, 2020
danielricciardo
♡ liked by pierregasly, jensonbutton, iamdannaschwarz and 710,610 others
danielricciardo Just a bunch of life 🤠🚜🇦🇺🇺🇸
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yourinstagram awesome taste in music mate 👍🏼
danielricciardo big fan of hers 👍🏼 love finding new underground artists ☺️
user imagine calling THE yourinstagram an "underground artist" lmaooo
user2 they're both such little shits i love them your honor 😭
kristenanniebell ❤️❤️❤️
scottyjames31 I see you're in good company mate
corey_wilson goodness I miss the ranch so much
user daniel said lemme give you thirsty bitches a few droplets of water
user2 there's so much to unpack here omfg
iamdannaschwarz you're welcome 😌 also there's a no-return policy in the contract ok bye
fioamato you're welcome 😌 x2
itsvittoriasousa you're welcome 😌 x3
danielricciardo nah i think i'm gonna keep it for a long while thanks. i'll rate you guys with 5 stars 👍🏼
user3 THE LETTER ON THE LAST PHOTO ???? I'M SENDING Y'ALL MY THERAPY BILLS
user4 THE MATCHING RINGS PLEASE!!!!!!! 😭😭😭
user5 all this soft launch shit is killing me guys help somebody let them know that we already know so they can stop playing!!!
yourinstagram but where's the fun in that babes? 😌
user holy shittttt!!!! y/n ???? i- 🤯
user5 OH MY GOD!!!! HI MOTHER AJKFFLAHDASD
user2 it's a fucking confirmation!!!! dan-y/n nation we got it!!! it's crumbs but we got it!!!!!
user6 we stan a suportive bf ☝️🤩
user7 999 for grammy's best album of the year ✨manifesting✨
°。°。°。°。°。°。
─── Please don't forget to reblog & comment! ♡
#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo x you#latina!reader#famous!reader#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo social media au#daniel ricciardo instagram au#f1 x reader#f1 social media au#( agentstarkid's works )
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