#But some were cruel and wouldn't have got away with their shit back then

[roosterforme]

Midnight Confessions | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It's getting harder and harder for Bradley to hide his feelings for you, especially when you offer to drive him home on his birthday. Before he knows it, he's drunk in your passenger seat, confessing everything he's kept to himself. He may not remember all of it in the morning, but you certainly do. 

Warnings: Fluff, drinking and swearing

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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"Hey, Midnight!" Phoenix called across the bar as she grinned up at Bradley. "Can you come here?" Bradley watched you turn away from Omaha and head in his direction with a smile on your face and a beer in your hand.

"What are you doing, Nat?" Bradley muttered to his friend, trying not to stare at you as you walked over to him. The last thing Bradley wanted was to get a little bit of attention from you now just to have to watch you and Omaha laughing together all night. 

"I'm giving you exactly what you want for your birthday," Nat replied with a devilish smirk. 

"Please don't," Bradley groaned, but you were already there, in his personal space. "Midnight," he said with a nod in your direction.

"Happy Birthday, Rooster," you whispered with a laugh, kissing his cheek so quickly he thought he had imagined it. "Next drink is on me." He swallowed hard, swirling the ice from his whiskey and Coke around in his glass. "Looks like I was just in time," you said, plucking the glass from his hand and heading for the bar.

"You're cruel," Bradley told Phoenix as soon as you were going. "You're evil, and I wish I never told you I have a thing for Midnight."

Nat rolled her eyes so hard Bradley was honestly afraid she wouldn't be able to see as well to fly ever again. "You think you're a locked box or something? You're transparent to me, Bradshaw. Literally an open book. As soon as Midnight showed up at Top Gun, I had your number. She's cute, she's smart, and she flies exactly like you do."

He watched you at the bar, and of course fucking Omaha was right there with you once again, his hand resting on your lower back. "I fucking hate him."

Nat snorted. "Omaha? You never used to have an issue with him before," she said, eyeing Bradley with an amused look. 

"He's annoying," Bradley said lamely. "And he's got nothing going for him except for that jawline." 

"Hmm," Nat hummed, shaking her head and scrutinizing him. "He's got pretty eyes too. And nice teeth. And his hair is actually similar to yours."

Bradley grunted and tried to ignore the scene at the bar while he picked up some darts. It was his birthday. He should be having a good time. He sighed and threw three darts in a row before Hangman joined him. And then he remembered why he never played darts when Jake hit three bullseyes in a row.

"Happy birthday," Hangman drawled with a lazy grin.

Bradley was saved from having to respond when you placed your hand on his forearm and handed him a fresh drink.

"Thanks," he told you, taking the opportunity to look at your face for a few seconds longer than he normally would. Big mistake. You got his heart rate going and made him feel speechless, and you weren't even doing anything. 

"So, what does the birthday boy have planned for the rest of the night?" you asked, staying with him even though Omaha was hanging around. 

"Oh, probably just getting blackout drunk and trying to forget that I have feelings," he replied casually, taking a sip of his drink.

"Yeah, I've tried that," you responded just as casually. "It doesn't work."

"Shit," he replied with a laugh.

"Yeah," you said, leaning in a little closer. "But I have a better idea."

Bradley shook his head and grinned. "No. Don't you remember? Penny said she'd kick us out if we played strip pool again."

You started laughing, and the sound of it this close up made him feel a little smug. Take that, Omaha.

"I swear, all it took was getting Bob to take his shirt off, and Penny looked like she was going to murder us," you said, still laughing brightly as you took him by the hand. "But we can play regular pool, if you want."

Bradley would have followed you anywhere. And then you were lacing your fingers with his, just so briefly, before letting go of him to grab two pool cues. And Bradley ended up playing with you as his partner while his friends handed him drink after drink. You were pretty good at pool, but he was better, and the two of you were unbeatable. Plus, this gave Bradley an excellent opportunity to stand very close to you and whisper in your ear. 

"Nah," he whispered as you bent down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear before he pulled back a little. He thought he heard you sigh as he said, "Go for the corner pocket with the nine ball."

"Okay," you agreed, and Bradley got to watch you beat Omaha and Hangman. And that was really all the birthday present he needed tonight. But then you jumped up and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Smoked those losers!" you said loudly, and this time you had Bradley laughing. Then his hand settled around your waist, and as soon as he felt your denim jeans against his fingers, he had to back up a step. You just smiled and turned to re rack the balls.

Bradley didn't notice it at first, but after another two hours, he was definitely drunk. 

"Give me your keys," Nat told him around eleven o'clock as she held out her hand. 

Bradley had to lean against the pool table while he dug around in his pocket to get his keyring out. He watched with unfocused eyes as she removed his Bronco key and handed him the remaining house key on the keychain that said I'M SO FLY.

"How am I gonna get home?" he asked Nat, leaning in a little closer to try to focus. "Nat, I'm too fucked up to even use a ride app."

She smiled and patted his cheek. "Midnight offered to drive you."

"No!" he groaned. "Nat. You can't do this to me."

"Happy birthday," she crooned, disappearing off into the crowd with his key, leaving him holding a pool cue as you approached him again.

"Why don't you finish your drink, and I'll drive you home?" you asked with a smile so pretty on your lips, he was just dying to kiss you.

He realized he was staring at you now, but he couldn't figure out how to control his body and turn away. Riding in your car with you right now was going to be a disaster. He just fucking knew it. And now he was still staring at you as your smile grew. He would do anything to be able to look away, but now you were giggling, and my god, Bradley just loved that sound. But he tried so hard to look away until you bit your lip and reached out to touch his forearm again, and then he knew he wasn't going to be able to look away from your face ever again no matter what.

"Fuck," he grunted, wondering who had let him drink this much.

You were rubbing your fingers along his arm, and Bradley's brain helpfully informed him that he could have a boner right now, no problem.

"Fuck," he repeated. But you were still smiling. 

"You are so drunk right now," you said softly, shaking your head. "Your cheeks are beat red. You look adorable."

"You're adorable," he whispered, and your laugh was loud and bright. 

"Okay, you just finish this, and I'll take you home whenever you want, birthday boy." You picked his drink up off the table and he took it from you before you turned away.

Oh. You had thought he was joking when he called you adorable. That was good, because he hadn't meant to say anything like that at all. Not out loud. He was going to have to hold his own damn mouth shut in your car. 

He had no idea how long he had been standing there with his glass in his hand, but he was watching you talking to Omaha. Fuck that guy, for real. But he looked annoyed right now. Bradley liked that expression on Omaha's face. He also vaguely thought nobody should ever be looking at you with annoyance, because you were perfect. 

Bradley took a few steps so he was closer to you, because he was drunk, and going home sounded like a good idea. Then he heard Omaha.

"What do you mean you're taking Rooster home? Like you're taking him to your house?"

You replied right away, and your voice sounded crisp. "He's drunk. It's his birthday. I offered to drive him home. To his house. You need to relax."

Bradley liked that tone of your voice when you were talking to Omaha. Especially when your eyes and voice softened as Bradley made his way over to you. "I'm ready to go, Midnight," he said, and you took his hand right away. Bradley shot Omaha a smug smile and saluted him like a real asshole, even though he knew nothing would ever happen with you. But the look he received from Omaha combined with his middle finger in the air had Bradley laughing. 

"Did you have a fun night?" you asked, slipping your arm around Bradley's waist to help him walk. He probably looked like an idiot right now, but he didn't care. 

"Yep," he replied. "Thanks for playing pool with me. And thanks for the drinks."

"Oh, it's no problem," you said. "I know you'll pay me back on my birthday."

Bradley draped his arm around your shoulders even though he firmly told himself not to. "I'll buy all your drinks on your birthday. All that microbrewed shit you like."

You laughed as you led him to your car and unlocked it. "Just get in, birthday boy."

"It's not my birthday anymore," he whispered. "It's midnight." And then he laughed and added, "Well, you're Midnight, actually." He groaned and ducked down into your car when you opened the passenger side door for him. "Just ignore me."

You leaned in and helped him get his seatbelt on. "Now that would be impossible, Rooster."

Your face was close to his, and you weren't moving. Why weren't you moving? You weren't drunk. You'd had one beer, hours ago. You should be moving away from him. "You okay?" you finally asked, patting his chest where the seatbelt crossed him. 

"I like your face," Bradley told you, and then he wanted to disappear into thin air more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

"Thanks," you whispered with a smile. "That's sweet. I'll take you home now, okay?"

Bradley just nodded and cradled his face in his hands as you shut the door and walked around your car. When you closed your door and started the engine, he dared to glance at you before turning to look straight ahead. He would be home soon. And he could climb in bed and this would all be over.

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

Bradley was drunk. You'd never seen his cheeks so rosy or heard his voice so raspy before. It was a cute look on him, even though he seemed pretty far gone. But teasing him a little bit was always fun, because you knew nothing would ever happen.

"I like your face, too," you told him as you backed out of the parking space. "It's a very nice one. Handsome."

Bradley groaned and gaped at you. "What the fuck, Midnight?"

"What?" you asked, glancing at him before you pulled out onto the street. "You're handsome. All you guys are."

"Fucking Omaha," Bradley muttered, and you laughed as he cross his arms. 

"You don't like Omaha?"

Bradley scoffed. "Lieutenant Jawline? He can fuck right off."

You were now howling with laughter as you tried to make a left turn. "What does that make you then? Lieutenant Mustache?"

Bradley chuckled and tilted his head back. "I guess so. But that would make you Lieutenant Sexy Laugh and Beautiful Face."

You gasped and glanced at him as your belly swooped. He was flirting with you. But he was drunk. "That's too long to fit on my name tag."

"Baby, you're so perfect, you deserve two name tags. Maybe even three," he mumbled. "Maybe even a hundred name tags. I can think of a hundred different things I like about you."

You swallowed hard as you turned onto his street. After you had driven two blocks in a daze, you asked, "What's your house number?" You couldn't remember. You were having a hard time remembering anything. Because Bradley Bradshaw could think of a hundred different things he liked about you.

"I dunno," he groaned, pushing his fingers through his hair. "I can't remember anything except that time you wore shorts when we went to the beach and your bikini top was pink, and Nat made fun of me for being too embarrassed to tell you I think you're pretty."

You laughed softly as Bradley's eyes opened wide. "You are so drunk, Rooster! I can't believe we got you this drunk."

"I'm not that drunk," he muttered, turning in his seat to look at you as the light turned green.

"You don't even remember your house number!" you said, driving slowly down the street 

"I think it has an eight in it."

You laughed and pulled over, turning to look at him. "Rooster, what am I supposed to do with you?"

His eyes were soft as he lazily searched your face. "I can think of a few things. They all involve your lips."

You were the one gaping now. His eyes were unfocused, and no matter how badly you wanted to feel his mustache against your skin, you kept yourself a few feet away from him. When he leaned in, you brushed your fingers through his hair to keep him from getting closer. "Rooster," you whispered as he melted into your touch. "Do you want me to just take you to my place?"

His eyes bugged out, and he started to stutter. "Shit, I, well... Midnight, I-I..."

You let yourself stroke your fingers through his hair for a few more seconds before you eased him back against the seat and pulled back away from the curb. "You can sleep it off at my place, and I'll take you back for your Bronco in the morning."

"Sleep? At your place? Of all the things I have imagined doing there, sleep was not one of them."

He was very clearly a mess at the moment, but you couldn't help yourself. "Oh really? What have you imagined?"

He groaned loudly, closing his eyes and rubbing his palms along his face. "Imagined kissing you after I took you out to dinner. Kissing you on your couch and in your bed. Imagined how good you must taste."

Then he was quiet. You thought he must have fallen asleep. And as you pulled up to park in front of your apartment, you couldn't believe you'd gone out on a date with Omaha and let Omaha kiss you when there might have been even the slightest possibility that Rooster wanted to do those things. 

He was breathing softly now, his head resting on the window. When you got out and opened the passenger door slowly, he jolted awake and tried to climb out with the seatbelt still on him. You tried not to laugh, but it was just too funny. 

"Sit back, Rooster," you whispered, and you leaned across his big, warm body to unbuckle him. Then you took him by the hand and laced your fingers with his. You loved the way his hands felt, so big and secure. 

"That feels so nice," he murmured, pulling your hand against him. "Where are we going?"

He was trying to lead you away from your building, and you had to keep pulling him along with you. "Come this way, Rooster."

"Okay, baby. Whatever you want."

You just shook your head as you unlocked your building with his big body looming behind you. "I'm taking you to my apartment. You'll be fine, okay?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed, and you wrapped your arm around him to get him inside. He stumbled down the hallway to your door, and once he was inside, you took his hand again. 

"Here's my bathroom," you said, turning on the light and leading him in. You dug around in one of the drawers and found an extra toothbrush. "You can use this. And the bedroom is next door."

"Thanks," he whispered, bending down to kiss you cheek softly. "Love you." You stood there stunned as Bradley turned toward your toilet and started to unzip his jeans. 

Then you quickly darted out of the bathroom and closed the door. You were stuck somewhere between laughing and dying from shock. This is not what you had signed up for when you agreed to drive him home! But maybe it was even better. Or maybe it was a lot worse, and he didn't really feel this way at all.  

When you heard the toilet flush, you headed to the kitchen and filled two glasses with water. You'd let him sleep in your bed and you'd crash on the couch. You were pretty sure he wouldn't even fit on the couch anyway. The couch he told you he had imagined kissing you on.

What was going on here? 

The bathroom door opened, and you heard him say, "Midnight? I'm getting in bed."

"Okay," you replied with a laugh as you carried the waters into your bedroom. "I think you should drink this." He was wearing nothing except his boxer shorts, and your jaw dropped open. Because he was stunning. Big and muscular and fucking hot. "Water," you muttered, handing him a glass. 

He downed the whole thing in one big gulp, and then he set the glass down, swaying on his feet. "I think I need to sleep."

You nodded at him, and he was reaching for your hand, and you had no idea what to do. "What do you want, Rooster?" you asked, but he was scooping you up into his arms.

"Sleep," he muttered. 

"With me?" you gasped.

"Yep."

And a moment later, Bradley was behind you with his big arms wrapped around you, and he was sound asleep. 

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

Before he even cracked his eyes open, Bradley knew he had a headache. So he just burrowed further into the soft, sweet smelling blanket. He knew this smell. It was familiar and comforting. When he gathered the blanket up and buried his nose in it, he realized it smelled like you.

His eyes were open then, even though his head was pounding. He had never been in the room before. But he was sure it was yours. And the spot in bed next to him was still warm. 

"Oh no. Oh no," he groaned, covering his face with his hands. "What did you do?" Suddenly it was hard to breathe. He was in his underwear. In your bed. Hungover. Yesterday was his birthday. How did he even get here? He could remember playing pool with you at the Hard Deck, and then Nat took his key away. And... oh shit, he got in your car.

He was stumbling out of bed, looking for his clothing. He found his jeans and shirt neatly folded up on your desk chair. As quickly as he could, he pulled everything on and headed down the hallway.

You were in the kitchen, wearing shorts and a tank top, brewing coffee. You were perfect. Holy shit, you were everything. And he had already fucked this up.  

"Midnight?" His voice was rough and raw, and when you turned to look at him with a gorgeous smile on your face, he thought he was going to throw up. 

"Morning, Rooster. Sleep well?" you asked with a smirk. Bradley couldn't formulate solid thoughts. You were handing him a cup of coffee. You weren't wearing a bra. He had been in your bed with you, and he couldn't remember anything that happened.

"Did we hookup?" he blurted loudly, and you froze with the coffee mug in your hand. "Oh, shit, Midnight. Please tell me we didn't sleep together."

You no longer looked happy. But you were shaking your head with your eyes locked on his. "No," you whispered. "We didn't do anything."

As relief washed over Bradley, you turned away from him with the mug and looked out your kitchen window. "Thank goodness," he sighed.

"Yeah," you said softly. "That would have been terrible."

"Absolutely," he said, still catching his breath.

But now you didn't seem to want him around at all. "I'll call Nat and see if she can meet us with your key." You kept your back to him as you reached for your phone, and then Bradley closed the distance to you. 

"Hey, Midnight?" he asked, taking your phone from your hand. You glanced at him over your shoulder with annoyance. "Thanks for driving me last night."

"No problem," you replied quietly, avoiding his eyes now. 

"But why did you bring me here?"

You rolled your eyes. "You couldn't even remember your house number, and it was so dark, I couldn't tell which one was yours. Now let me take you back to your car, please?"

But then Bradley remembered telling you he could think of a hundred different things he liked about you. He remembered holding your hand and kissing your cheek. 

You were walking across the kitchen away from him, but he chased you down, lacing his fingers with yours. You only looked slightly surprised. "Did I completely embarrass myself last night?" he asked.

Despite your best efforts, you were smiling at him again. "I thought you were pretty damn endearing, actually." You tried to pull your hand out of his grasp, but he held you tight. 

"I can think of more than just a hundred things I like about you. So many more than that." He pulled you a little closer still. "You let me sleep in your bed with you?"

You sighed. "Don't worry, Rooster. We didn't hook up. We didn't even kiss. You just spooned me and passed out immediately."

Bradley groaned and tipped his head back. "I spooned you? I got to cuddle with you, and I don't even remember it? That's not fair!"

Another smile was dancing along your lips as you nodded. "You're really great at cuddling. Very warm." But then you bit your lip and looked at the floor. "Would it really have been so bad if we did more?"

"Yes!" he nearly shouted, and your startled eyes snapped up to his. "Baby, I want to remember that stuff in vivid detail!" 

You laughed and now Bradley was smiling. And then you kissed him softly, and he thought his heart was going to pound out of his chest. "You said some crazy stuff last night while you were drunk," you whispered, but he kept you close to him.

"I am pretty sure it was all true," he promised you. "But I'd be more than happy to fact check with you."

"You said you like my face."

"That's a fact," he said, nodding. 

"You said you wanted to do things with my lips."

"Oh, yeah. That's definitely a fact."

"You said you imagined taking me out to dinner and kissing me."

"Many times."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" you asked, sounding annoyed.  

He kissed you again. "Fucking Omaha, baby. What's that all about?"

"Oh," you said softly. "That is something that is basically nothing. At least on my end of things. And I could happily put a stop to that."

"Like today?" he asked, running his lips along your neck. 

"Like five minutes ago, Rooster."

Then you had your arms around his neck, and Bradley's hands were all over you. Your soft sigh as he kissed your lips had him scooping you up into his arms. "Can I have a do-over? Can we get back in your bed and cuddle?"

"Yes," you whispered as your mouth brushed his neck while your fingers went to his hair. 

This time Bradley kept his clothes on, and when he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest, he laced his fingers with yours. "I like this. We should do this all the time."

"We will," you promised, and his lips and mustache found your neck as he buried his nose in your hair. "I hope you had a fun birthday."

He needed to remember to thank Nat for being a pain in his ass when he saw her later. "I did. But today is even better."

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

Midnight, you're so lucky, babe! Upgrading from Lieutenant Jawline to Lieutenant Mustache! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls for putting up with me.

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[hanasnx]

hip to be square.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: themes similar to the movie | allusions to violence and murder | sexual content | sexism | fiancée!reader | dumbification | degradation | rough sex | anal play references | anal fisting reference | drug references | allusions to asphyxiation.

“You’ve worked up quite a sweat.” PATRICK BATEMAN notes in thinly veiled repulsion. Those cruel hands on your hips restrain themselves, and you can feel that tension against you. Instead, he pours his ample strength into yanking you back on him, choked sounds emit from your gaping mouth. In a way, this is an obligation, he can't really enjoy the way your cunt squeezes him, or how his thumbs fit those perfect back dimples—not in the way he wants to. If it were up to him, he'd squeeze the life out of you while he screwed those lifeless brains to pieces. Finally a bitch like you would be put to good use, eyes rolling back as the lack of oxygen grows black dots in your vision. You'd claw at his grip around your neck, easing in to crushing your windpipe, the light would die as he watched, and he wouldn't even falter in his pace. Those hips would still be fucking you, like he is now.

Hard and rough, it hurts. Abusing your cervix as you're bent over the perfect white covers of his California King. You bounce on him like you want more, but in reality you're limp as he directs your body the way he wants it to move. An irrefutable force against you that you are powerless to soothe, unbeknownst to you your only line of defense to protect you from his wrath is the ring on your finger.

You're engaged to him.

In his eyes it was an unavoidable tragedy. All his friends are your friends, you live in his area, and you're a ten minute commute from work. If he's looking to blow off steam during lunch, he'll pop in for a visit and use you up with a pillow covering your head. You don't catch on to the fact he doesn't want to look at you while he ravages you, never question why he insists on hitting it from the back if he can help it. It aids that you've got a nice ass, plump and round and fits in his palms when he handles it. When you aren't being a priss, sometimes you'll let him slip a finger into your asshole. At one point he managed to convince you to let him fist you, but he'd slipped you one to many things that night, narrowly avoiding a messy emergency room visit. There was no way he was going to wait up for you in such a place so late at night. What would he have told everybody? That his fiancée was some junkie? Absolutely not.

Nails dig into your skin at the memory, the salt of sweat burning that raw that makes you mewl. He steels himself from demanding you shut up, instead assuaging the urge by smacking your hand away when you reach back to hold his in a petty attempt to get him to let up. Cruelly, he drills you. Those pathetic noises release in pain, you don't even sound human. "What are you to me?" he spits, looming over your little body as his every muscle contracts fucking into you at a reckless pace. You're sore from his weight, but you can't do a thing about it when being treated like shit never felt so good. A ring of cream foams at his base, taken from you as your cunt confuses punishment for desperation, your expression twisting so hard you'll get wrinkles early. He'll have to divorce you before that happens, otherwise people will think him vain. "Answer me, you idiot, you're supposed to answer me."

Somehow, you don't notice how he's talking to you. How it's different than the cold and distant nature you're accustomed to in public. "Nothing." you breathe out. "I'm nothing." You chase whatever you can get your hands on, scrambling for whatever stupid response you can muster in this state. Apparently, it pleases him, a sea of moans flowing out through his deep voice as he satiates himself using you like a sock with your name on it in his room.

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[heartfullofleeches]

Happy Birthday, C.C!

(And a happy belated Valentine's day. One holiday is a bit more important to me than the other. Gotta celebrate my favorite incubus's day or he may cut me. Reader is brief mentioned to be wearing lingerie, but there really isn't anything that suggestive in this fic- Enjoy!)

-

When asked what he wanted for his birthday, C.C gave the same answer nearly every year.

"Why would I want anything when I already have everything I need?.... A new pair of shoes would be nice, but I'm really not that picky about what I get."

A successful career, the funds to purchase whatever trivial possession he desired. If he hadn't found fame and fortune early on in his life on earth, C.C would have been more than happy to mooch off of the desperate, lonely humans who'd do give him just about anything for a crumble of his attention. A short while ago, the only presents that mattered were what he received from the select few in his family he deemed worth the title, but something that has changed recently - another person entering his life who he puts on the same pedestal as the blood he holds dear if not higher.

If there was one thing C.C didn't want for his birthday - it was waking up in an empty bed all by himself.

Reaching an arm over your side of the bed, the drowsy demon is rudely dragged from his sleep as he finds no one there next to him. It's funny to think that a year prior he would have had no problem with this. Now, his heart sinks every time there's no one at his side. You're cruel for making him so dependent on you like this - and not being beside him on his big day.

C.C grumbles something under his breath - stumbling out of bed, making a grab for his phone on the nightstand as he exits the room. The second he turns it on, he's bombarded with hundreds of birthday wishes from friends and fans across several social media accounts. C.C swipes them all away, only bother to read any of the notifications in case he misses a message from you saying you're out. Why you'd leave without him is beyond him, but it was the best his groggy mind could come up with. Turning the corner that leads to the living room, a sea of curses sound from the kitchen muffled by running water.

"Shit, shit, shit- Fuck, why won't it come off?!"

C.C would recognize that voice anywhere. He scurries into the kitchen - biting back a laugh at your unfortunate state of appearance. There you stood over the sink, frantically scrubbing at your palms with a sponge. It was all over your hands, the robe you wore, even your face - pink stains that stubbornly refused to come out no matter how hard you tried. On the counter behind you was a bowl filled with a pinkish mixture - a bottle of red food dye still mixing its top and covered in red fingerprints seating beside it. C.C creeps over while you're distracted and sticks his fingers in the batter.

It's pancake mix.

"Mmm... I think all that dye is supposed to be in the bowl, babe."

Startled by the voice behind you, the sponge hits the bottom of the sink with a wet splat as you look behind you - hands quick at fixing your robes over scantily dressed body. "C.C? You're awake?! You're usually not up til noon - I thought I had more time.... Happy Birthday!"

The more attempt to hide it, the more C.C notices parts of your skimpy attire beneath the robe he had got you on your own special day. C.C loved to see you in his favorite color, but the bright pink fabric lessened the nearly see through aspect of your underwear and top in this lighting. The stockings you wore made up for it well enough - another accessories he loved to see on you that he made sure to voice many times before.

C.C gathers some of the paper towels on the counter. "Well I see you were at least trying to make breakfast - or get readying for Halloween a few months in advance. Sexy vampire is always a nice look."

"The seal just wouldn't come off and when it finally did it spilled all over me... I'm sorry for messing breakfast."

"Hush." C.C pulls you in close, wetness bleeding through his shirt as he embraces you, but he doesn't seem to mind. "We still have everything we need. I'll help you finish up and then we can take a shower together and spend the day in bed. You didn't put that outfit on just for show, did you?~"

"No, it was actually meant to be your Valentine's gift but.... I still haven't gotten your birthday present yet. I was going to take you to the mall and let you decide since there's so many things you like..."

C.C holds you tighter - grinning from ear to ear as he looks over your shoulder at all you've done for him. 'Don't worry.... I have everything I want right here."

#C.C my oc #yandere incubus #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere fluff

[ghostboneswrites2]

Girl of Your Dreams || Pt.3

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Summary: Daryl coaxes you up to the watchtower with him. He's much nicer this time :)))

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, unprotected p-in-v, general smut, TWD typical zombie killing

        It took you literal hours to recover from the blatant torture he had inflicted upon you in that little loft. Talk about cruel and unusual punishment, you thought to yourself.

        You were both back home at the prison now, having not spoken a single word to each other since he left you sitting there on that bed, high and dry (or... wet?)

        You decided you couldn't sit on  your cot and stew about it anymore, you had to get up and do something. Problem was, it was late, and most people would be asleep by now, so you couldn't exactly do much work inside. You guessed that left you to find something to do outside. Had the gardens been weeded? How were the pigs doing? Maybe the fences were piling up with walkers. That sounded good, you'd go stab walkers through the fence. 

        You sat up, tying your freshly washed hair up behind you, and slipped your boots shoes on. You snuck outside, shutting the door behind you as gently as you could, before making your way over to the inner gate and tugging it open. You glanced up at the guard tower and held up your spear to show whoever it was that you were just working the fences. You guessed probably Glenn and Maggie, as that was usually where they slept when they wanted some privacy.

        You stabbed and prodded the clumsy corpses through the holes in the fence for maybe a half hour before he silently snuck up on you, leaning against the inner fence behind you, simply observing. He saw the way your legs flexed every time you shoved the sharpened wooden pole through a decaying skull, the way your loose ponytail slapped side to side, and most of all the aggression you used, no doubt trying to work off some frustration. 

        You were short of breath after so much work. You wiped the sweat from your forehead with your arm and set the spear against the fence. You went to turn around and take a break, but you jumped as you did so upon noticing Daryl standing there watching you.

        "Shit, man! What the hell?" You gasped, placing your hand over your startled heart.

        "Was on watch. Seen ya out here." He shrugged. "Y'okay? Seem a little frustrated." He smirked.  You shot him a cold glare.

        "Nuh-uh." You shook your head. "No. You take that evil mouth of yours and go somewhere else."

        "What's the matter? Talk to me." He was so nonchalant it made you want to hit him.

        "Oh, nothing." You waved him off. "In fact, I have never been better."

        A bluff, and a poor one at that. All this time you thought you had him, you had reveled in the fact that you could get a rise out of him, only to realize it was him who had you around his finger the whole time. He was a lion in the grass, just waiting for his moment to pounce. Well, you decided you wouldn't fall to his wicked games. He would not make a fool of you again.

        "That's good." He nodded. "Wanna come help me keep watch?"

        "Absolutely not." You crossed your arms.

        "Not even for..." He trailed off, digging in his pocket and holding up a little napkin. He unraveled it to expose your favorite snack, one that only he knew how to make. 

        "Deer jerky?" You whined.

        "Uhuh. Freshly smoked." He said, taking a bite out of one of the strips and chewing slowly, staring you dead in the eyes.

        "Why?" You scoffed. "You gonna tie to to a string and dangle it above my head? Pull it away every time I reach for it? Seems pretty fitting."

        Your tone was harsh and accusatory. It amused him, but he didn't let it show outwardly. He just kept his defense up, remaining as calm and calculated as ever.

        "Nah. Just thought I'd share. Got more up in the tower." He nodded his head to the guard tower.

        You chewed at your lip. You could smell the smoky meat from where you stood. It was tempting, too tempting, but something told you there was nothing but misery awaiting you in that tower. Sweat, delicious, pleasure filled misery. You faltered a little, clearly not convinced you didn't want to join him.

        He pressed on. "Found some candy, too. Out on our run today. Got it all stashed right up there."

        "What kind of candy?"

        He smirked again. It was too easy. He might as well have driven a white van with 'free candy' painted in big black letters on the side. 

        "Dunno. Some chocolate, jawbreakers..."He trailed off, pretending to try to recall the diversity of his sugary loot. He hadn't forgotten, though. In fact, it was all part of his elaborate scheme. He knew exactly what he had up there, one of them happening to be your favorite. "Oh. And those little rainbow strips with the sour sugar coated all over 'em."

        "The sour rainbows?" You uttered in disbelief. Damn it, he was good. You eyes narrowed. "How do I know you really have them up there?"

        "Have I ever lied to ya?"

        You considered his question. He had a point, and he also potentially had a feast of deer jerky and your favorite candy.

        Still, you couldn't make it easy for him. At least, not that easy.

        "Well, you still owe me an apology." You demanded. He scoffed, a laugh escaping his lips. Your chest felt gooey inside. He didn't laugh much. The most you got was a chuckle, a little huff of air.

         "For what?" He raised an eyebrow.

        "For.." You weren't actually sure. You just said whatever came to mind in the moment. "For being mean."

        "C'mon, now. Y'ain't that soft. Let's go. No tricks." He urged, walking backward toward the tower but still facing you.

        "No. Say you're sorry." You doubled down. You couldn't give in. He changed his direction, taking slow steps toward you now, until he was nearly touching you. Your throat got tight as your eyes looked up at his. He leaned down slowly his face growing near. Your eyes fluttered shut, leaning into what you expected to be a kiss. He stopped, though, when his lips just barely grazed over yours.

        "I'm sorry." He whispered. He stood back up straight and turned on his heal, strolling casually back to the tower. Bamboozled again.

        He didn't have to turn and look, he knew you'd follow him. 

        You sucked in a sharp breath and shoved the air out, groaning under your breath as you marched behind him. Up in the tower, he handed you another napkin full of jerky and a pack of sour rainbow strips, just as promised. You snatched them away and began to tear into the candy.

        "You're a lot of things, Dixon. But I guess you can't be called a liar." You sighed. He didn't say anything, just roamed around the perimeter of the balcony, pretending to watch for any threats. You continued, mostly just mumbling to yourself. "A tease, maybe. A cruel, heartless tease capable of great bodily torture.. but not a liar."

        His keen ear picked up every word. He chuckled silently to himself, shaking his head. It didn't take long for you to eat every last bit of the treats he had saved for you. When the instant gratification of your snack had washed away, you were left to wonder; "So, was that all you brought me up here for?"

        He leaned on the metal railing and looked you over, head to toe. Still wearing a baggy shirt you stole out of his bag forever ago and biker shorts. Your usual sleep attire.

        "Y'ever gon' give that shirt back?" He asked.

        "Nope." You boasted, popping the 'P' sound.

        "Mm." He nodded. "Like wearin' my shit?"

        "Yup." You nodded, repeating the same popped 'p'.

        "Got somethin' else for ya to wear." He revealed. He nodded over to a small plastic bag that you hadn't previously noticed. You eyed him curiously, stepping over to the bag and lifting it up. You peaked inside to see a sort of lacey silky fabric all bunched up at the bottom. You looked back at him, eyebrows raised. "Go on." He urged.

        You sighed and pulled the soft fabric out of the bag and held it up with both hands to get a good look. It was nothing crazy or overly lewd, just a simple short nightgown with lacey accents framing the cleavage. 

        "I'm supposed to wear this to bed in a prison full of kids?" You scoffed.

        "Nah. Jus' up here. With me." He said, just over a whisper. There it was, that familiar lump in your throat, heat in your cheeks, pounding in your chest.

        "N-now?" You asked. Your voice was already failing you, cracking a little.

        He loved it, though. You were a violent, volatile little firecracker. You had bigger balls than most of the men around there. But when it came to anything suggestive, suddenly you were a whimpering fool, barely capable of a full sentence.

        "Mhm." He nodded, treading toward you nd taking it from your hands so you could strip down and change into it. Your hands were uneasy as you slowly pulled your shirt off. You were braless, but somehow he didn't even look. You were nervous enough. He wanted you to be comfortable. He could save the lust for later.

        Next was your shorts that slid off with ease. You were wearing underwear, mostly because going without in tight spandex shorts was sure to be a mess.

        You went to grab the nightgown but he instead moved behind you and gently slid it over your head. You worked your arms through the corresponding straps, and he slid the rest of the dress down over your frame. He stepped around you, stopping in front of you, taking in the sight that was you in a sexy, silky dress. It wasn't that tight, but it still formed to your curves nicely.

        You just stood there, arms at your sides, second guessing everything about yourself. Even down to the very way you stood.

        "Alright," he nodded. He moved his hands up to the buttons of his shirt and undid them, one by one, slowly until his torso was exposed as he shook the shirt off of his arms.

        Your breath was caught in your throat with admiration. He was so.. defined. 

        He stepped close to you and ran his hands over your shoulders, down your back, and then up again until he reached your ponytail. He carefully slid the band out, letting your hair cascade around your face, framing it perfectly. He gently moved little strands and tufts around, until he thought you looked absolutely perfect.

        His hands found your neck and he leaned down, planting an actual kiss on your lips, then your jaw, then your neck. Your knees felt weak but you were determined to be strong.

        His lips trailed along your collar bone and over your upper cleavage, hands rested on the sides of your head to hold you steady.

        "C'mon." He told you, grabbing your hand and leading you over to a nest of blankets. He held your hand as you sat down, gently urging you to lay back, and you did, never taking your eyes off of him. He crawled over you and kissed you again, this time with rhythm and urgency. You couldn't help but to snake your arms and legs around him, fearful he might pull away again and leave you in need.

        He didn't, though. He kissed you gently but desperately, sliding his hands over every curve of your body. It was like your first time again, so nervous and excited for whatever new sensations awaited you. You could feel him getting hard as his body pressed into yours. You let out a little whimper when the pressure grew. That one little noise woke him up. It was like he wasn't even in control, just his hands and his body working with yours.

        He slid your dress up just above your waist and traced his fingers over your panties, feeling accomplished already. You were soaked. After that stunt he pulled earlier, you were begging to be touched. You longed for any kind of human contact. Hands rubbing your back, fingers through your hair. It had been so long. It had been a long time even before the turn. You hated every man that entered your space, and that girl who got all starry eyed at the slightest show of interest from a boy was long gone.

        But, here, now, all you wanted was his touch. He slid his fingers just under the hem of your underwear, dragging them sideways, giving you a chance to deny him if you didn't want it. An unnecessary gesture. You couldn't have denied him if you wanted to at this point. Your body was in control, not your brain.

        Without your protest he gripped the fabric of your panties and slid them down, sitting up quickly to pull them off. As soon as they were out of his way he was back on top of you, lips smushed against yours, sloppy and passionate. He traced his fingers over your slit, rubbing softly up and down. A sharp breath escaped you. He slipped a finger inside you, then two, curling them and massaging slowly. Small, breathy moans lulled out of you, music to his ears. He wanted to make sure you were ready for him. 

        You gripped at his arms and back, meagre attempts to pull him closer, deeper. When you seemed eager enough, he reached down and unbuckled his belt, then in jeans. He unzipped them and pulled himself out, stroking himself. He was rock hard. It was almost painful for him. He was throbbing for you just as much as you were for him, maybe even more.

        He wanted you from the moment he laid eyes on you, showing him your bare torso to prove you weren't bitten. He had it bad for you always, but it wasn't until today he acted on it. He didn't know why. Not why he never pursued you sooner, nor why today was the day. He was in a particularly bad mood earlier, thinking about his brother who he had lost not once, but twice. He was frustrated with his lack of luck in finding the Governor, and overall everything you said just pissed him off. There was no flutter in his stomach when you teased him, no urge to flirt back. He was angry, and he wanted to take it out on you. But, when you were looking up at him with his hand around your jaw, eyes full of shock and wonder, he realized how bad he really did want you. That didn't make him any less angry, though, so instead of enjoying you, he tortured you.

        He wasn't mad anymore, though. He was tired of waiting, tired of denying himself.

        He pressed his tip against you and you gasped a little, anticipation rising with every second. You looked up at his eyes to find them trained intently on your own. He didn't look mischievous like he did earlier in the loft, it was a soft, lustful look. Still there was uncertainty there, like he was waiting for you to stop him at any moment.

        Slowly he pushed, sliding the very tip in. Another gasp. He pushed a little further and you let out the tiniest moan. When he was finally sure it was okay with you, he slid the entirety of his length inside you. A loud, guttural moan pushed out of you. He sighed with pleasure as your gripped and throbbed around him. You were so wet and warm he began to fear he'd finish too soon. He eased  back down over you, breathing softly in your ear as he slid out slowly, and then back in, acclimating himself to the sensation. Every time he pushed in you moaned.

        Soon he was picking up the pace, and your hands roamed his shoulders and arms  as you panted and whimpered. His hand slid down between the two of you and a single finger circled over your clit rhythmically. Your hands froze in place on his arms, fingers curling, digging your nails into his flesh.

        You were already buzzing, just centimeters away from the edge, ready to dive off. You felt a mild sense of panic. This was the exact point he pulled away earlier, over and over and over. You were expecting it again, but he kept going, and sure enough you fell over that edge into blissful oblivion. You body shuddered and tensed up as you rode the wave, moaning louder as he pounded into you.

        You began to twitch with over stimulation, jerking your hips a little. He took the hint and pulled his hand away, determined to satisfy himself now that you were taken care of.

        You just held onto him, breathing heavy as he knocked little sounds out of  you, enjoying the relaxed feeling as your orgasm washed away. It didn't take long after that, with the convulsing muscles inside you gripping him. He sped up the pace for only a moment before he pulled out, hot cum shooting on your leg.

        You laid there motionless, catching your breath. He quickly used part of the blanket nest beneath you to wipe you down before he crashed beside you. He looked over at you and you returned the stare, before a laugh escaped you both. You covered your face with your hands.

        ��Now you knew. You knew he could be just as cruel as you were, or he could give you exactly what you wanted. It was all up to you and how you decided to treat him.

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon smut #18+ mdni

[beeslibrarycorner]

Joe goldberg obsessing over a shy/quiet reader Hcs

He thought you were so vulnerable, like you needed to be protected from this cruel world.

|He spied on you from the counter at the bookstore, you looked so small in your sweater and his heart fluttered when you got excited over a book you were looking for. He could make you that happy, he could protect that happiness.|

He will find everything out about you from what your hobbies are to how you like your drink made at starbucks.

|”y/n likes to read a lot of different genres, I could totally talk to her about that!” Joe thought as he scrolled through your instagram looking for things about you.|

He will always be your shoulder to cry on when things get hard.

|”I think Amy is a bad friend y/n” Joe said while wrapping an arm around you in a side hug. He pressed you into his side, your face shying away and hiding in the space of his shoulder and neck. “She can't keep using you as a therapist when her life turns to shit.” he continues while rubbing your back comfortingly.|

He loves when you start to come out of your shell around him and is angered when you tell him why you hide your bright personality.

|”She's so sweet, why did she hide this part of herself from me” Joe thought as he watched you putting books away at the shop. Later on he complimented her and told her how sweet she is. “Thanks Joe, I’ve had way too many people say I talk too much and that I’m too energetic so I choose to hide it.” Joe could feel his blood boil at that, he hates to think you have been hurt like that.|

Will invite you out to lunch every week so the both of you can catch up. AKA: Joe trying to get new information out of you.

|”so, how’s everything going?” Joe asked as the two of you sat in a cafe waiting for your orders. You take a sip of your drink and Joe couldn't help but smile as he could see the wheels turning in your head. Well, Julia has been-”|

When anxiety strikes Joe helps you out, he will always be there.

|“Deep breaths y/n, you got this” Joe said, holding you close and petting your hair. You got yourself worked up over some college class presentation and Joe was quick enough to notice the symptoms before it became a panic attack. Joe distracted you enough for you to calm down and you cuddled together until you were able to get up and do the assignment; with Joe's help of course.|

Joe's obsession grows when you invite him over to your place to stay the night.

|As the episode's credits roll you yawn and stretch, looking at the clock you make the realization that it's eleven thirty. Joe is lazily sprawled out on the other side of the couch, when he catches you looking at him a smile spreads across his face. “You could stay the night if you want, I wouldn't want you falling asleep behind the wheel on the way back to your place.” You said, smiling back at him. Joe's heart fluttered, He was so lucky to have such a sweet girl in his life; his sweet girl.|

When Joe stays the night he steals your clothes and puts them in his bag he brings with him.

|It started with small things like a shirt or a hoodie that smelt like you, but then Joe would get bolder and bolder. He would steal your underwear and bralettes when the doubt dissipates and the confidence takes over.|

It's game over when you tell him you have a crush on him, he's never letting you go.

|”Now I know she'll never leave me” Joe thought as she looked at your relaxed form lying against him. He squeezed you in his embrace smiling when you squeezed him back.|

#joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg

[cyripticchronicler]

Ink and Destiny - Part 2

The long-awaited date with James arrives, and you see him in a new light. But wouldn't it be crazy, to fall for your soulmate?

Masterlist

Part one Part Three Part Four

Warnings: Kissing, swearing, I think that's it if not lmk :)

A/N: Thank you for requesting a part two @lilianelena39I appreciate it sm!!

It seems as if Saturday was never going to come. Which was both a blessing and torture. You were excited to finally get to know your soulmate. But James Potter? The boy who’s been pining after Lily for years? Not to mention all the cruel pranks he’s played on people around school. So, obviously, you were a little hesitant to get to know him. 

You’ve been talking all week, never in person but rather on your skin. You’ve pointedly ignored his flirty comments whilst he pointedly ignored all my snarky comments. 

But alas, Saturday arrived. It took everything in you to get up and ready, already dreading the day ahead. But you still promised to go on that date, and you weren't going to let your crippling disgust of awkward first dates and small talk ruin your chances of getting to know your soulmate. 

So here you were, dressed in your prettiest dress as you made your way towards the lake. The sun's heat grounds you and you push your nerves to the side, taking in the shimmering lake instead. 

James told you to bring nothing, insisting that he’ll handle everything instead. You were flattered but now your hands are empty and you don’t know what to do with them. 

He’s not even here yet. Relax. 

You made sure you got here earlier so you could mentally prepare yourself. But the extra time did nothing for you when you spot James making his way towards you, grinning devilishly, picnic basket in one hand and a wrapped gift in the other. 

You smile tightly as he stops in front of you and he gives you a knowing smirk, “Miss me?” He asks and you scoff. 

“Need any help?” You ignore him, gesturing to the basket in his hand. 

He shakes his head, “No thank you, Love. Let’s move up the lake a bit.” You nod, walking beside him. The silence is awkward- for you at least- so you quickly come up with something to say. 

“How was your day?” You ask, eyes looking everywhere but him. 

“Better now that you’re here,” He grins, sending you a playful wink. You roll your eyes, stopping underneath a big tree. James deems the spot good enough and he gently places the wrapped gift and basket down. 

He pulls out a blanket and sets it down on the grass. He sits and you follow suit, making sure to keep a good distance between the two of you. 

“If a bird shits on me I’m blaming you,” You blurt, immediately wincing. Who says that? 

James just laughs, eyes playful, “I’ll try to keep the birds away from you then.” Your cheeks flush making his grin widen. 

He starts pulling everything out of the basket and you take notice of the way he brought all of your favourite food. 

Noticing your confused stare, his cheeks flush a deep red. “I may have asked Alice what food you liked.” He mutters sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

You melt, “That's very thoughtful. Thank you, James.” He blushes more and you have to bite back a smile. “How’s Quidditch going?” You ask, deciding to change the subject before James burns from embarrassment. 

He perks up immediately, “Really good, actually, we’ve started practising-” You try hard, really hard to focus on what he’s saying but the way he’s sitting, and the way he looks at you makes it hard to focus. 

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you. Just yesterday you were thinking about how much you don’t like him. 

“-listening?” You jump as you realise he just asked you a question. 

“Hm?” You flush, trying to act as if you werent checking him out. James sends you a knowing smile, “I asked if you wanted some butterbeer. You seem distracted, what’s on your mind?” 

You flush, “Y-yes, please. I‘m not distracted.” 

He hums like he knows you’re lying, “Cracker?” You nod. “Do you have any plans for Christmas ?” 

“No,” You respond, “My parents are travelling so they won’t be home for Christmas. Do you?”

You munch on food as he responds, “Sirius is coming home with me for Christmas but I’ll make sure to send you letters so you don’t miss me too much,” He winks and you scoff, “I won’t miss you at all, James Potter.”

He leans in closer, “Just you wait.” 

You don’t miss the way he looks at your lips, and you’re sure he doesn't miss the way you stare back at him. 

Clearing your throat, you attempt to deflect, “So you’re finally over Lily?” James freezes, finally looking back at you. 

“I was barely into her,” He responds cautiously like he doesn’t know where this conversation is going to go.

“Ask anyone in the school and they’d say that’s a lie,” You respond, chewing on a grape nervously. 

“Well, it’s not. I promise you,” When you don’t respond he sighs, “I got you a gift.” You perk up slightly, tracking his movements as he pushes the gift towards you. 

“I didn’t get you anything,” You say guiltily and he smirks in response, “That's the point.”

You roll your eyes, muttering a ‘thank you’ before ripping open the present. You gasp at the contents. “How did you know this was my favourite book?” You question, eagerly inspecting the frayed book. “And it’s signed?!” You screech. 

James laughs gently, “I have my ways. So, do you like it?”

“Do I like it? James this is amazing thank you,” You don’t think to question your actions as you fling your arms around his neck, causing him to fall forward as you pull him closer. His laugh is like honey as he returns the hug, cheeks flushed slightly. 

“I’m glad you like it. Maybe you could read it to me sometime? On our second date.” He pulls away slightly, hands holding himself up beside your head. 

“Our second date, Huh?” You grip his wrist gently, running your hand up his arm. 

“Yeah. The date where I prove to you that I have no feelings for Lily and where you read to me.”

“You know just because we’re soulmates doesn't mean we have to be together,” You’re not sure why you say it but you do. James' eyes soften like he can see in between the lines. “I’m not doing this because you’re my soulmate, I’m doing this because I like you.”

You suck in a deep breath, “Oh.”

He smiles in return, “Yeah, Oh.”

You act on impulse, pushing yourself up slightly to plant a quick peck on his lips. His grin widens and your cheeks explode. 

His eyebrows raise smugly, “So is that a yes to the second date?”

You nod shyly and he giggles- like actually giggles- and shoves his head in the crook of your neck. “It’s going to be the best second date you’ve ever been on,” He mutters against your skin 

You find yourself growing excited at the thought of a second date with James, and you bite your lip to stop your smile from growing. 

“I can’t wait,” You whisper. 

“Me too,” He whispers back.

#james potter fic #fanfiction #james potter fanfiction #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #James Potter Drabble #James potter fluff #james potter oneshot #James potter scenario #james potter x reader hurt/comfort #James Potter #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #the marauders #james potter x y/n #James Potter x fem!reader #James Potter fic #James Potter oneshots #matt murdock smut

[milkywaydrabbles]

A/N: I don't think I'll ever stop thinking about Fratboy! Gojo this is actually my downfall for ever opening my mouth. Part three of the series that wasn't supposed to exist.

Part one | part two

"Stop fucking with me Gojo!" You yelled, pushing him away from you. "And get out of my room!" You couldn't believe the nerve of his guy. He had the audacity to tease you about a drunken kiss (mistake!) And how was pretending like he promised you something as ridiculous as that? Please! He just wanted more ammunition to tease you to no end, and you've had it. "That trick might work on some of the other girls but not me, fuck off." Scoffed, trying to shove him out your room but the lanky mother fucker was stronger than he looked. He grabbed your wrist, tugging you a hair's length away from his face. "Now why would you think I'm fucking with you?" He questioned, smile still plastered on his face. "You think I don't know how bad you want me?" He was so fucking full of himself. (he was hot but you would deny it until the day you died.) 

"I don't want you Gojo, shut up and get out." You huffed, waiting for him to leave. You couldn't push him out obviously. He chuckled, still not letting go of your wrist. "What if I want you?" Wait, what?

You must have said that out loud. "come on, baby. You're such a smart girl and yet you are so dense. Why do you think I always try to find you?" Your breathing hitched, looking away from his piercing blue eyes. "Because you're a fucking dick." Your voice was small, with no bite at all. His smile dropped a little, looking more sheepish and genuine now. "Yeah, Suguru always says that too. But I'm serious, come on pretty girl look at me." Pretty girl. You liked the way that sounded. Fuck. You glanced over at him, trying so hard not to turn your head but he wouldn't have any of that. His free hand grabbed at your jaw and turned you fully to him. "I know you just think I'm just some idiot frat guy." Sounds harsh when he said it, but he was right. You did think that. "But just give me a chance, yeah?" 

You head was spinning, you didn't know what the fuck was going on. Gojo Satoru, the self titled campus hot guy, in your room and admitting to... Well, you didn't know. Having a crush? On you? It was too much, he was too in your space. "Gojo, I don't think—" "Satoru" ... "What?" He sighed, letting go of you fully and looking down at your feet. "I want you to call me by my name. Satoru. Please baby, just let me hear it." He was pulling out all the stops wasn't he?

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. "Satoru, please" you begged "please stop fucking with me, I can't deal with this right now" you were so tired, and your walls were cracking. But you just couldn't believe him after being so cruel to you all semester. "Let me show you how serious I am then" and before you could question him or even look at him his lips were on you. A hand caressed the back of your head while the other rested on your waist. He moved slowly, deliberate, taking his time with the kiss. You were at a loss, not sure how you should react. It did feel nice. And it felt genuine. But you still weren't sure. He sighed, pulling back from you after you didn't react. "Fuck, I'm sorry this a mistake —" he started pulling away from you before you grabbed his face in both your hands. "Wait, Satoru" you started, and his lashes fluttered. "Say my name again, pretty girl." He basically pleaded with you, scared to raise his voice higher than a whisper. "Satoru... you can't fuck with me right now." He was getting frustrated, brows furrowing. "Baby please I'm not. You got me fucking begging out here." He laughed at himself, moving back to you with his hands where they were. "Just give me a chance."

And your lips were on him. You were nervous, that he was going to pull back and laugh in your face. Scared that he was going to go behind your back and talk shit to his fraternity brothers. Scared that he would go straight back to bullying you the way he had all semester. Or worse. Scared that he's just using you for a quick lay. You almost wanted to pull back at the thought alone. But the way he caressed you, the way he kissed you back with so much affection it was hard he would try this hard just for a quick laugh, or a quick fuck. He pulled you closer by your waist, deepening the kiss and nipping at your lower lip, silently asking for permission. You let him, opening your mouth just a bit to let Satoru slide his tongue into your mouth, moaning as he did so. The kiss got messier, spit pooling at the corners of your mouths.

"Fuck baby" he panted when he separated just enough to breathe. "Kissing you is better than I ever imagined" you whimpered, lips glossy. "You're so embarrassing." he chuckled at your words, nipping at your lower lip again. 

"Don't be shy with me pretty girl. Come on, let me hear you sing for me."

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #milk writes #i think of him and just hear dial up tones in my brain

[thefrogsennaneverfound]

let's not forget that ricciardo once made a bet with helmut marko back in 2018 that bottas would lose his seat by the end of the season. all purely for his own shits and giggles.

fed the narrative that red bull were doing him dirty causing a load of hate to be sent to verstappen by his pack of rabid fans, when in reality verstappen was just better than him.

was happy to let his rabid stans mock esteban ocon's ability all across social media when they were teammates at renault and made a few sideways jabs egging them on, because esteban was losing to him.

spent the months before joining mclaren making digs about norris's age and experience, disguised as jokes but clearly mind games, and spoke about norris like he was a child who needed to be shown by the master (him) how to drive. (boy did karma bite him on that one)

egged on the interviewers making mugging jokes and then pretended to grab norris's new watch off his wrist during an interview just days after norris had been held in a chokehold and mugged, then laughed like norris was being a bad sport when he understandably didn't find the jokes funny and walked out of the interview.

put out that pr statement about being committed to mclaren purely for pr purposes, bringing a deluge of hate onto the team when it was announced they'd dropped him. later came out he already knew the writing was on the wall at that point so clearly did it just to try to turn the narrative into a pity party for him before word got out.

he/his team also deliberately fed misleading information to espn during his time at mclaren saying that norris was only beating him because it was the only car he had ever driven in f1 and it was tailored around him and implying norris was overrated, only for him to be forced to admit when directly asked in an interview once he had left the team that the car hadn't suited norris either and that he was frequently baffled by the things he could see on the data that norris was able to do with the car that he just wasn't able to.

agreed pre-race in baku 2022 to the strategy of the two mclaren's holding station in whichever order they were at the end of the first lap in order to work together to use drs to keep the alpine of ocon behind, only for him to then get on the radio knowing it would be broadcast to whinge about how unfair it was that lando was holding him up from getting past alonso, forcing the team to tell him no they weren't swapping them and making the team look bad. he was pissy he hadn't been the lead mclaren at the end of the lap so had to hold behind and knew exactly what he was doing with that radio message. admitted after the race that the strategy had been arranged beforehand and that he wouldn't have got past alonso either as the mclaren was so slow on the straight, but by then the damage was done and norris and the team were being dragged all over social media by his rabid dog-pack.

never once condemned his fans for bullying his mclaren mechanics on social media (to the point one of their wives was posting begging the staniels to stop because it was having an adverse affect on the mechanics' mental health), didn't condemn them sending death threats to his engineer after the radio in baku when tom stallard asked him if the car was okay (he didn't realise ricciardo had crashed at this point, he thought the car had broken down), made digs that fed into his stans mocking norris's very real mental health struggles, and didn't condemn them from sending hate to a mental health charity that mclaren work with.

took visible pleasure in being undeservedly handed de vries's seat on a silver platter last season.

he is not mr nice guy at all. he is incredibly manipulative and good at playing the pr game. he also gets away with some really cruel jokes and jabs by putting on the 'joker' smile and playing the it's only banter card.

egged on the interviewers making mugging jokes and then pretended to grab norris's new watch off his wrist during an interview just days after norris had been held in a chokehold and mugged, then laughed like norris was being a bad sport when he understandably didn't find the jokes funny and walked out of the interview.

Another very salient point I'd forgotten about. Thanks for pointing out this and so many other examples of his nasty behaviour.

he is not mr nice guy at all. he is incredibly manipulative and good at playing the pr game. he also gets away with some really cruel jokes and jabs by putting on the 'joker' smile and playing the it's only banter card.

Absolutely; this takes us right back 'round to the 'charming bully' analogy. The likes of Tsunoda don't make a fuss about his bullying so he gets away with it. Norris does make it clear that he doesn't think it's in the least bit funny (it was downright fucking cruel to bate him like that) so he twists it to make the victim look bad. Utterly vile behaviour and, sadly, Ricciardo is a long way from being in a minority of people who get away with it.

I really do appreciate you taking the time to add to the ever lengthening list of why that obnoxious twerp is such a wrong 'un. It's likely that some folks reading our descriptions of his behaviour will recognise people in their own lives who've been getting away with treating them badly just because they know they can get away with it. Maybe it'll give them the courage to be a Lando rather than a Yuki (although I don't mean to disparage Tsunoda) and make a stand.

#anti-Daniel Ricciardo #It is beyond me why there are still so many people who can't see through his nice guy schtick

[nineinch-nailgun]

I'm so sorry mimic enjoyers I got caught up in my ultrakill brainrot and forgot about yall.

for the sake of keeping everything together I'm going to re-upload the stuff I've already written on quotev first so this is just the first chapter lol.

Weird Pet pt. 1

You'd never really been one to worry too much about mimics or any of the vita carnis. You lived in a remote area, it's not like you get a ton of human flesh eating monsters at your door everyday. 

Well. That was until you saw the absolutely massive fleshy prick standing dead center of your bedroom, in the middle of trying to fold his arm up so he could get under your bed and wait to kill you in your sleep.

Naturally, this scares the shit out of you, and him as well. He wasn't expecting to be caught red-handed, or for you to stare at him that way. He didn't really seem to know what to do, until you took off running, that is. You sprinted off down your hall, adrenaline forcing your body forward as fast as your legs could carry you. You had to think fast, he was barreling after you, his gangly legs having little to no coordination, resulting in him slamming againsta wall or two. As you ran into the living room you thought quickly, grabbing the nearest object- a lamp- and smashing against the mimic's head. 

He was dazed momentarily, stumbling back and making a strange sound similar to a whine and a growl. He regained himself, stumbling after you and lunging around to try and get to you. You didn't even know how you were still on your feet, you'd managed to jerk away from him to this point, you needed a plan. Slowly, an idea formulated in your head. You moved quickly, stumbling out of the living room to the stairs, he chased you down into your basement, lunging as far as he could to reach you- only missing you by a little and slamming right into the bottom step. He scorpioned over the last step, his legs flying over his head. Part of you felt bad, he seemed kinda shitty at this whole 'chase and kill' thing. Although your empathy made it difficult, you decided to use this to your advantage.

You rush past him as he tried to scramble back up, he looked at you with a weird slackjawed look, he raced up the stairs after you, only to get a face full of door. You slammed the door and locked it shut, hearing a loud thud against it, accompanied by a sliding sound. You backed away, hearing the sound of ragged breathing, and then a frustrated grunt from the now imprisoned mimic.

A day had gone by since you'd captured the mimic, and you hadn't let it out, or called anyone.. your initial plan was to let it starve in your basement, but that just seemed cruel at this point. So you did some research on what tastes like human flesh (which made you absolutely certain you'd wind up on a government watch list) and found that ham was pretty close to human meat. "OK, so I'll just get him some ham... yeah... feed the mimic." you muttered out loud, debating with yourself over whether or not you actually should go and get food for the freaky fucker in your basement. Eventually you gave in, closing your front door behind you to go to the local convenience store. 

When you got home a pit had grown in your stomach, if you decided to take care of the mimic, you might get attached. So when it decides to eat you it won't just hurt physically but also emotionally. Whatever, feed it anyways. You take the ham, wrapped in plastic towards your basement door, unwrapping it so he wouldn't choke, and then staring at the door for roughly 2 minutes, still arguing with yourself over whether or not even opening the door was a good idea. Slowly, you twisted the door know, you couldn't see where he was- but you could hear him breathing. You threw the ham in and quickly slammed the door shut. You stayed there for a moment, wondering if he'd come and investigate or not. You heard some shuffling, but that was it.

#mimic vita carnis #vita carnis #mimic #mimic x reader #monster x reader (?) #i cant believe i just tagged that like in real life #chat is this real #so sorry vita carnis fans #monster x reader #monster x human

[moongothic]

To be honest I can kinda see how having a hook instead of a hand prosthetic has its benefits

Hook is easier to mantain than a hand with lots of small moving pats, especially when you don't know shit about it. If something happens to it and it gets broken, it's much easier to replace a hook, even with all layers and poisons

And depending on when in time Crocodile lost his hand he may have just got used to it already

But also yeah, Crocodile is just the type of guy to choose a hook instead of a new hand because looks and aesthetics lol

(sorry for typos btw)

Crocodile's hook is kind of fun because it's a reflection of so many things in the story. Like there's the in-universe lore and character stuff we can look at, but also we can look at it from a meta perspective

Like we know Oda wanted to give certain important characters in the story the Iconic Pirate Traits; the peg leg for Zeff, the hook for Crocodile and an eyepatch he has seemingly been saving up all these years for a special someone (my money's on Mr Burns but that's a different subject). And so Crocodile having the iconic hook is a part of an old pirate-y "vision" Oda wanted to fulfill with One Piece, an OG "goal" from waaay back in the day

But another thing is that Crocodile is very much from The Olden Days of One Piece, more specifically, very much pre-what I'd call the sci-fi era of OP. I'd say One Piece started truly dwelling deeper into that genre and its tropes during Punk Hazard, but Oda didn't even really dip his toes into it until the CP9 Saga (with the introduction of Franky and the namedropping of Doctor Vegapunk). Sure, Oda did already hint at the existence of Vegapunk and his scientific developments back in Alabasta (when Miss Merry Christmas explained that Lassoo was a gun that had eaten a Dog Dog Fruit, this being "the Latest Science from the Grand Line"*), but One Piece was still very much in its more classical fantasy element/genre at this point in the story, so the science fiction that was to come years and decades later was not even present at this point

*(Thinking about it, honestly, how the fuck did Mr 4 get his hands on Lassoo if Lassoo was created by Vegapunk?? Was he a gift from Vegapunk/the WG to Crocodile, maybe????? That Crocodile just secretly gave away to Mr 4????)

In other words, in hindsight it might seem odd Crocodile wouldn't have taken advantage of his position as a Warlord and gotten a prosthetic arm to replace his hook. But Crocodile is a One Piece character from a different era in the story, when advanced prosthetics, cyborgs, robots, clones and so much more were nothing but a twinkle in Oda's eyes. So expecting Crocodile to have lived up to the sci-fi future One Piece wasn't originally going to even get to would be unreasonable.

But the fun thing is that we can actually look at Crocodile and his silly little hook, and spin it in a way that does actually complement his character. We can find in-universe reasons for him to have stuck to a hook over an advanced prosthetic, and they make sense. The most obvious would of course be that Crocodile does not trust anyone. It would be very much unlike him to go to Vegapunk and/or the World Government requesting to be given a prosthetic, because that would mean 1) Leaving himself vulnerable for a period of time so that Vegapunk could actually give him a prosthetic (dangerous) 2) Knowing the WG they would not just give out something like that for free, surely they'd want something from Crocodile in exchange. And, while we know what would become of Kuma eventually (a fate so cruel I'm sure even Crocodile could not have imagined) I'm sure he could have suspected the WG could want to use him for a science experiment or two, something I'm sure Crocodile would never have agreed to. Or maybe the WG/Vegapunk would've wanted Crocodile to pay them an obscene amount of money in exchange for a prosthetic, and/or have him do some other favors. Whatever the case, I'm sure none of these options would have seemed worth it in his mind.

And yeah, what you said.

Maintaining and taking care of a hook would be easier, like if Vegapunk's prosthetics ever broke or malfunctioned for any reason Crocodile would have to make a horrifically long hike all the way from Alabasta to Marijoa, cross the Red Line (to be fair his Shichibukai Status would allow him to go over which would be more convenient than passing through Fishman Island), go to Punk Hazard (or Egghead later on), and then hike aaall the way back to Alabasta again. And Vegapunk's inventions didn't always work as intended, the man had to refine and develop his creations to get them to work the way he wanted them to.

So if the option get a prosthetic was ever brought up to Crocodile by the WG like 10+ years ago, he might've been far more cynical about Vegapunk's ability to actually create a decent prosthetic that worked and wouldn't malfunction/have issues etc. And as you suggested, by that time he probably would have become used to his hook, to the point that he didn't mind keeping it.

And yeah, it would be just a big ol' Luffyism if he preferred the giant, golden, gaudy-ass hook

#Moon posting #Asks #OP Meta #Sir Crocodile #To be fair as a sharp pointy thing the hook IS good for intimidating people. #Like the size of it is pretty inconsistent as is the height of Crocodile in the actual art but in theory #Like. The size of just the base of that hook is fucking massive (and indeed the base is great for pludgeoning people too) #It just. Like the hook just works for Crocodile (because it's Crocodile) and I love that. Like the writing is so good there

[blueiight]

IWTV E4 “A Ruthless Pursuit of Blood with All a Child’s Demanding.” Claudia discussing how it feels to escape poverty to being adopted into wealth, struggling in her existence without peers even during her second childhood and how she does not even care to have the veneer of mortal manners around Louis’s family, what Charlie as her last peer meant to her, and her mortal upbringing prior to Lestat + Louis.

And I realized, what I thought was Heaven was just some nice room. And what I thought were angels were really hell demons.

Uncle Les and Daddy Louis were rich. They had nice clothes and a nice auto carriage and a funny way of being nice to each other.

I gotta go to bed when the rest of the world wakes up, so there's less kids to play with...

Daddy Lou said I had been away from people too long. I didn't know how to behave right anymore. But Uncle Les said, I behaved just fine.

Diary, his name is Charlie. He's got veins like rivers. They flow right down his arms. …Charlie's death ushered in one of the darkest eras in our lives. The oh-so-delicate balance of our oh-so-delicate household was shattered. For Claudia, all humans died with Charlie.

And, diary, you'd think a girl whose mama died in childbirth... whose daddy gave her away to a mean old auntie who beat her 'cause no one said she couldn't, who died in a fire but came back by the blood magic of two demons, well, you'd think that girl wouldn't know what funny was. But you'd be wrong, diary. And if I told you, dumb diary, that that same girl was being raised to kill like her demon parents did, to take two souls a day so she could stay in the same flat-chested, hairless-crotched 14-year-old baby doll body as her mind and spirit turn 19, 20, 25, 63, 358, you dumb, dumb diary, I bet you'd say to anyone who'd listen, "Fun? Fun? How does she even get up in the morning?" Well, let me tell you something, you stuck-up, flower-covered, three-dollar fancy fսcking paper diary, I'm doin' just fine. (diary pages read aloud as Claudia self harms at the end of e4)

IWTV E5 “A Vile Hunger for Your Hammering Heart”. Claudia discussing her life/reckoning with the fate of her premature existence.

"Dear Diary, am I gonna be a virgin every single time I do it? Won't my skin down there grow back like my hair does when I cut it?"

Who am I supposed to love? You two have each other. Who's my Lestat? Who's my Louis? I’m not human. What human would want me? Perverts? Like the uncle at the roomin' house who used to watch me pee? Or little boys? And 40 years from now... still little boys? How are you gonna fix it, huh?… (turns to Louis) [Lestat] treats us like shit and you just take it! And you, [turns to Lestat] cruel as the devil ever made, to deny me one love when you’ve got two.

[Talking to Louis in her room after the confrontation at the dinner table] I remember the night I was made, the fire chokin' me, you carryin' me out through the flame and the smokes. But then why'd you take me home? Why not a hospital? …. But I was breathin'! Maybe I'd have a handsome husband by now. Or maybe he'd be plain but with a good disposition. That'd be fine, too. I'd be sweepin' floors, makin' dinners, nursin' babies. Maybe I'd go to church. You think on that some.

How does Claudia react after her rape? She exhibits textbook behaviors.

Co-dependency.

I spend time following Louis and Lestat now that I am my own woman... with no obvious sense of why I follow them, other than meaning slowly disintegrates without them...My companions in immortality.

but wait.. u might ask: doesn’t this contradict what she said years earlier in this same episode about wanting ‘her own Lestat and Louis’? is this Louis or Armand somehow forging Claudia’s diary? or is this a rape victim shortly after the actual experience struggling with her emotional+ mental state and in that frame of mind going back to the immortal family she finds to be a more familiar sort of ‘evil’ than the unknown vampire that raped her, especially after witnessing Louis weep over the grave Grace made of him? to Claudia here, being Louis’s ‘sister’ is balm put onto a bleeding wound.

Hypervigilance over her wider situation ad an Enmeshment with Louis, as they both have endured incredibly traumatizing events (with Claudia being raped + shortly after, witnessing Louis being beaten) and are without Lestat for six years following the end of E5 picking up the pieces. it is Claudia who tends to Louis in his most vulnerable here, and Louis struggles with that, wanting to be ‘her knight in vengeful black’ in return.

She's grown very protective of me. That's what this is. It's why it's hard. She came back altered when she left us. There's a darkness in her that wasn't there before. Give her a little time. [Louis is trying to appease Lestat here in their ‘compromise’, but there is a key bit of truth in his observations here.]

Claudia learned very early on, as early as E4 when Louis asked her mentally about Charlie, how to block her mind off from Louis. and with her traumatic experiences, its all but said that hypervigilance protects her mind further (as shown in the S2 trailer when Armand comments on it). When Lestat steals her from off the train, he also threatens her:

Because if you try this again, Claudia, I won't snap your leg, defile your pocket, and zoom off on a motorbike. I'll turn your bones to dust.

Is it any wonder Claudia draws the comparison to Bruce when she talks to Louis, especially when Louis in the season finale plays the role of a honey trap to the very same lover who almost ‘killed Louis’, as Claudia [and Daniel alike] frame the ending of E5 as abuse + attempted murder, as Claudia seethes , is ‘done enduring?’ and just before she creates her own murder plan:

Or did you kill him, like you did Antoinette, and how you tried to do with Louis?

I have to wonder why, over a year from airing, blogs and reviews claiming to be dedicated to the series rehash the most juvenile questions that the episodes themselves directly answer? How can S2 spec or complex discussion occur, if callout PSAs shutting down any sort of canon-compliant discussion is the way to go? If people constantly exhibit their refusal to meet the show where its at and engage the material for what it is, where can we go from here? AMC IWTV is very didactic. ‘The absence of metaphor is striking’. Yet for all the waxing about loving ‘fucked-up gothic romance’, there is a willful ignorance in understanding where & what makes the situation fucked up to begin with. Or even an interest in understanding the basics of the setting!

#yn. #family from hell #iwtv #claudia

[funficwriter]

Celestial is Cruel (Tartaglia/Childe x Recruit!Reader)

A/N: Not much, apart from the fact that damn I got some... Fantasies. Fucked up ones but I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a blast writing it. Hopping on to part 2!

Warnings: Sad, disrespect of graves, abuse of power, slight motif of punishment, kinda yandere, horny Tartaglia with even worse timing, talk of a dead friend.

He hated every single thing about this ordeal. The uncomfortable position on the tree was the least of them. At least it offered a good view of you.

He hated how you wailed like a child, because his sweet little recruit shouldn't be sad. He hated how you were laying on the tombstone, arms splayed out as if hugging your dearly departed friend, because such a passionate embrace should only be for him. He hated the flowers you got him tonight, because they symbolized mourning.

He hated it all, because you were giving everything... Your emotions, attentions, presence and more... To another man.

A dead one, too. Really, now! This is how you spent your free nights the last few weeks? Did they stop teaching cadets to not be too attached to each other? That the Fatui had death everyday?

No matter. As your Lord, he was going to put an end to this. He was going to put you back on the right path as a recruit. His recruit.

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

Deeper into the icy woods, laid your friend's grave. It was particularly hard to get to by virtue of being so nestled.

One wouldn't have to go as deep to hear you. It's been weeks and you still have such nights, wailing and apologizing to your companion of years. You also never dared an appearance without flowers, even if he wouldn't mind.

Your body felt cold against the tombstone. You could never pinpoint the exact time that you laid down in this manner, arms sore from sprawling them out across the stone. Perhaps once you stopped denying his death. But what really took your energy was your crying.

"I'm sorry, Julian! I'm sorry, I should have taken that hit, and you should be here! I'm sorry, forgive me...".

When you two were cadets, you were constantly warned about the possibility of losing your comrade. You were told, time and time again, 'don't get too attached to each other'. But hearing it in the classroom was worlds different than facing it. You two would laugh about it and drink afterwards, bantering back and forth:

"If I die, you better bring hyacinths instead of roses! I hate those spiral-ey shits!"

"In that case, you better tell me who's dating who over a bottle of fire-water! You can splash it on my tombstone!"

"Forget this old graveyard etiquette, you can chill out on mine if you need to get away from everyone else!"

Now here you were, with this banter being closer to reality.

Forget your status within the Fatui. Forget the heightened expectation of 'getting over' your friend because 'this happens everyday, it's part of our job'. Forget the potential displeasure of your Harbinger; You knew you were going to face his wrath at some point, but for now, you just needed some space to be a messy griever, consequences to be damned and faced.

"Julian... I don't wanna go back yet. I want to stay a bit more...".

"Y/N.".

Of course he'd seek you out. You tried to adhere to your usual duties, but it was obvious that you needed a bit more time to get back on par. Especially by his standards.

His hulking shadow engulfed your figure, even more so as he bent down to your level. You felt his hand patting your shoulder and looked up to meet his eyes.

"There, there. At least we both know that he died for the Tsaritsa's cause. The most honorable way to go.".

You sniffled: "But he was so young... We still count as fresh recruits, and he was always so resilient...".

"Yes, I know that. Julian was a remarkable unit, and a fine comrade...".

His hand could never remain in one place for too long, least of all if your body's concerned. You wanted to smack him when you felt it slide down to waist level, waiting for more. You were expecting this, but right on Julian's resting place? Really?

"But remember, my dear, that this isn't clerking; This is the Fatui. Great units are still at high risk, no matter how powerful they are...".

It wasn't fully here yet, but you knew where all of this was going. How could you not? You've been performing at a 'sub-par' level in comparison to your usual, you've spaced out thinking of Julian more than a few times, and though you did your best, many who came in contact with you swore up and down that eyes could never look as glossy as those of you losing your friend. All behavior unfitting for Tartaglia's prodigy.

It was very obvious that something has changed, and this will affect your Lord as well. He can't let you keep this up; It's his job as your superior to rectify this in whatever way he sees fit. A messy, moping recruit wasn't a good asset to have.

And you knew Lord Tartaglia - Childe, how fitting. If said way could bring him some sort of fun or pleasure, he was going to take it. For it to involve his sweet, little overachieving soldier? Well, the constant lip-licking was expected.

So did the wandering hand, pulling himself a little closer to you. Now your waist was almost encircled by his arm.

"I'm not saying you're bad for feeling like this. You're human. But you both knew what you signed up for. I myself has a couple of near-death experiences and lost comrades, and I'm a Harbinger.".

He could soften his tone all he wanted. You knew this talk was rehearsed. It sounded too much like his usual cold reading voice. You'd assume someone who felt your pain would be a little more empathetic, more supportive. But him? He was doing a horrible job hiding the excitement in his eyes, the prospect of 'putting you in line'. You looked down; The tent in his pants further told you what you needed to know. What did it matter if your face was still blotchy from crying?

You backed away while asking: "Lost comrades?".

"Yup. Ya know, I had this friend, Antony, who I bunked with back in our cadet days. He always sang for us at parties. Really fun guy. We also talked about our families so you can bet we were close.".

"What happened to him?".

The acting was losing whatever little effort it had: "Burned to death. I mourned too, I liked him a lot. But this is part of the job. This can be expected any day, any mission, and our friends aren't exempt by being loved.".

He made a good point. Julian wasn't going to be spared, and if his power couldn't save him, your friendship certainly wouldn't.

Celestia is cruel.

You looked up to Childe's face: "Anything you want to say?".

"Celestia is cruel. And so are you right now.".

Did you screw yourself over with the second part? You weren't intending on saying it out loud, but repression and your mind being on your friend 6 feet under will have you doing that.

He chuckled and decided that the waiting game was over. He got up on the tombstone, looming over you. Though you've stared into his empty blue eyes a lot, you never manage to shake off that mix of morbid wonder and fear at how... Soulless they were. Did Antony notice too?

"Me?".

"I'm sorry, my Lord, but yes. I'm mourning right now. Can we wait until we're in your quarters, because it's a grave...?".

You didn't have the energy to defend yourself more fiercely. Though you were still relatively young (at least by Fatui standards), your tonality belonged to a retired officer who's seen too much in one life.

You didn't defend yourself physically either. You didn't stop Childe from laying you down onto the stone, nor did you really admonish his lust on top of your friend's grave. You wanted to, but for one, he could easily overpower you, maybe even get harsher under the pretense of 'not obeying your Lord'. Paired up with your tired body, you felt helpless.

"You're correct, Y/N. Celestial is cruel. So cruel for seeing two adorable recruits, so dependent on each other... Then snatching one and leaving the other to suffer.".

He grabbed your hands to intertwine his fingers with yours. The backs of them were on the cool, grey stone, not at all like this fiery man above you. Like Schneznaya and Natlan. Ice and fire. As above, so below not in terms of temperature, but cruelty.

"And me... Well, I'm a Fatui Harbinger. Being a little cruel is guaranteed at this rate."

At last, he captured your lips with his. This kiss was unlike the few others you shared. He was the hungriest you've known. The most lustful you've seen.

What would Julian think?

You wanted to step back, even if the primal in you told you to stay. At some point, you did, only for him to grab your face.

"Now, now, comrade... You haven't been performing to your usual standard. It's my job as your Lord to end this. We can't fall behind the other legions, can we?".

He trailed off to your neck, nipping right where he knew you were most sensitive. Those whimpers were meant to be moans, only you weren't going to let them out.

"Wait, my Lord-".

There was the spot; right above your collarbone, just at the base of the neck. Did you really think he wouldn't know at this point? There was still a fading mark from last time, so he guessed it needed a renewal.

He chuckled and looked down into your eyes: "I know you way too well, Y/N. I'd say...".

He always liked cutting off his thoughts through kissing or nipping. You heeded out every word of his for years, it's basically an unconscious habit for you to grin and bear whatever he threw at you if it meant hearing the rest of his sentence.

How devoted. And thank the Tsaritsa for how delicious you were as well. Sometimes he pondered whether she was testing his mental endurance by sending him a recruit of such a lethal combo, along with more attributes befitting of an ideal partner, too.

To remove the last potential competition, putting him under the ground and far away from you, only served as an encouragement to take you.

When he broke away, he relished into the sad look in your eyes. Yes, you were going to be corrected for your poor performance and waste of time, at his hands.

"I'd say... You're right. Celestia is cruel for throwing you to me."

The tug at your collar was only the start. It was going to end with everything else right next to the grave.

You didn't know if souls were a thing, or if they were near, but deep down, you prayed to Julian to forgive the upcoming act.

#fatui childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe x you #yandere harbingers #yandere tartaglia #yandere harbinger x reader #yandere genshin impact

[mags-writes]

Sunlight || Part III

Summary: frank offers his shoulder for you to cry on

Series Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical swearing, first time writing x reader, no use of y/n, no beta readers we die like ray nadeem

Pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

PROLOGUE/MASTERLIST || PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

Three weeks had gone by. Three weeks of you and Frank dancing around each other while trying not to tip off Matt that there was something going on.

But was there? Frank seemed so in control over every fiber of his being that you doubted anything was actually going on. Then there were the days that he got home before Matt. He would stand behind you, towering above you, and give your shoulders a rub with his rough hands. He handled you like glass, like if he moved too suddenly you'd bleed. He'd help you cook dinner and tell you how beautiful his lunch was that afternoon, that the only thing missing was your company. He'd pick up when you started getting a cramp in your hand from cutting up enough vegetables for three people and rub his thumbs in soothing circles to make it go away. Then Matt would walk through the door.

Something was going on. That was for sure, even if you doubted it sometimes.

The first time you saw Matt leave the apartment in the middle of the night, you kept your breathing even and didn't move a muscle. You weren't surprised when Frank's phone woke you up a couple hours later and he left in a hurry as well. The next day when you woke up to Matt with a frozen bag of green beans to his jaw, you scolded him like an older sister. The topic of Daredevil had never come up in your mind until then. You didn't know if it was even him to start off with and if it was then who else knew? Did Foggy and Karen know like back in your dimension? Did Frank?

Matt lied straight through his teeth with a guilt-ridden expression. He fell down the stairs. Allegedly.

Other Matt tried that lie once. Only once. Before you ripped him a new asshole. And it led to you becoming his girl in the chair. It also led you to own your own firearm after some kidnappings put you in the hospital once the bad guys found out Daredevil was running around with an earpiece.

You stopped what you were about to say, Frank rounding the corner after hearing your voice echo through the apartment. You took a deep breath and accepted the gracious gift of hindsight.

"If you're lying to cover up the fact that you got punched by someone-" You were about to start a rant again when Frank chuckled.

"Who'd be cruel enough to punch a blind guy?" He said, coming closer and taking the bag off of Matt's face. "What'd you do? Fall down some stairs again?"

Oh.

Oh, Frank knows. That's why he calls Matt 'Red'.

You willed yourself for the love of god to play it dumb. Like you didn't just put the pieces together. One man before you was blind, but despite being a walking lie detector, he wouldn't be able to see your face. The other, while he admitted to being dense, could read people better than you could ever hope to.

"Whatever," You mumbled, throwing your hands up and going around them both to start your normal routine of making your coffee that had been laid out by Frank and making them lunch. "Bro code, I get it."

"Sweetheart-"

"No, it's fine." You interrupted because if you didn't then you'd fold like a lawn chair. "Have each other's backs. That's what friends are for."

You heard Frank sigh and one of them walk away.

"Hey," Frank said, putting both of his hands on your shoulders and coaxing you to turn around. You put up a little fight, stirring your coffee before Frank put more pressure and you relented with your eyes down. "Hey, hey. Look at me, hm? Look at me."

You huff, snapping your eyes up with a hint of anger.

"He forgets I know what it looks like when he lies." You said.

"Okay, so what do you think happened?" He calmly asked, and you knew exactly what he was doing.

"I don't know!" You brought your hands up in front of you. "But it's the same shit excuse the other Matt gave me every time he showed up with a beaten-up face and a limp."

Frank frowned, probably turning over the question of why Matt hadn't told you his secret.

"When did your Matt become 'other' Matt?" You froze, not expecting that question in the slightest.

You stuttered, stumbling over your words, starting a sentence and breaking off at the first word before shutting your mouth and intently looking at his chest. It wasn't hard, he was tall enough that you fit perfectly under his chin and your head rested against his chest.

You took in a sharp breath. "I don't want to go back." Frank reached out, putting his hands on your biceps, squeezing comfortingly and you brought yours to his chest, scrunching the material of his work shirt in tight fists. "All of you take for granted how safe you are here. You don't get it, I've looked up all the bad guys from my dimension, and nine out of ten times they're not here. I'm safe here."

"What about your Matt?" Frank asked, frowning like he didn't quite get it. "He's like your brother."

You look back at him at that. Matt was in his room, most likely listening in. If you said what you wanted to say then he would hear. You stuttered slightly again, getting frustrated that you couldn't get the words out.

"He doesn't see it that way." You finally got out, avoiding Frank's eyes again and you lowered your voice as tears started to gather. "He's been more Catholic whore than having Catholic guilt these days. He went through Clair and Karen and nothing's been the same since. I turned him down and I thought that we had moved passed it but right when I was brought here he brought up the topic again. I-Frank, I'm not safe there-I don't want-"

You started to cry then, sniffling and fighting off the tears as hard as you could.

"Hey, hey." Frank soothed, putting his hand behind your head and bringing you to his chest, rubbing your back with the other hand. "It's okay, doll. You don't wanna go, you don't have to."

"What if he shows up? What if he comes here and-"

"I won't let him." He squeezed tighter. I won't let him take you from me. "I won't let him make you do anything you don't wanna do."

Frank nearly sighed in relief when he remembered he was supposed to be convincing you that Matt wasn't Daredevil. Your use of 'other Matt' had thrown him so harshly that he couldn't stop his curiosity. He wondered for a moment that if you had been hiding that detail from them all then what was it like with Karen and Foggy?

You pulled back suddenly, wiping at your face and groaning for a second before shaking your head and looking up at him.

"Okay. I'm fine." You said. "Go drink your shit coffee." You started lightly pushing him away. "Go, I've got lunches to make."

Frank took a hold of your hands with a small smile, giving the upside of your palms a kiss each to the scars you refuse to tell him about that sat in the middle. Your face softened at that. A small smile fought its way to your face as he then leaned in to kiss your forehead. You had to quickly turn back to your coffee at the look he gave you, a look that he had been giving you more and more frequently, especially around Matt.

Not long later you finished up their lunches and they were sitting on the couch waiting patiently for you to bring it to them before they left. Just as usual you walked over to Matt first, him reaching out for the container and putting it in his bag then you moved to Frank who did the same. This time Frank stood first, giving you another kiss on the forehead and saying his goodbyes which confused you as Matt was usually the first out the door.

You cast a look down at Matt who by now was twiddling his thumbs as he waited for Frank to leave. Once the door was closed and Frank's heavy steps had faded he stood up.

"I'm sorry about before." He said earnestly, and you knew he was telling the truth. "I didn't mean to stress you out."

"I just-" you cut yourself off, pausing and thinking for a moment, remembering that he had absolutely heard everything you tearfully confessed to Frank. "I don't want you to lie to me."

"And I don't want to lie to you." He came forward, bringing you into a hug that you went into comfortably.

"Does it have something to do with a case?" You asked into his chest. "Are you in danger? Do we need to call the police?"

"I'll explain everything to you tomorrow night." He said as if he had just decided it at that moment. Like he was desperate to make you happy. "I promise."

He kissed the top of your head. Memories of your brother's all doing the same rushing to the surface of your mind. Memories of Matt doing the same when you were growing up. You never told him your brothers did that, never told him what it meant for him to do it. Never told him that other Matt had stopped.

"I'm not going to be coming home tonight." He said, pulling back.

"What?" You frowned harshly and he could hear it in your voice making him wince.

"Tomorrow night, remember?" He put both of his hands on your shoulders to calm you. "I just have to take care of some things tonight and hopefully it'll be sorted by tomorrow."

"And if it's not?"

"Then you'll hear about it." He said with a smile.

"What? On the news?" You said stressed again.

Matt laughed, bending down to pick up his bag.

"Let's hope not." Was his answer.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fic #frank castle fanfic #the punisher #the punisher x reader #the punisher fic #the punisher fanfic #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil fanfic

[myocsfanfictions]

South Side Story

Shameless Fanfiction

Desna Hills has come living in the Southside of Chicago four years before. Taken in by Kev and V, Desna is close friends with the Gallaghers. Let's see how this Southside story unfolds.

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 21

V's bachelorette party went very well. Desna went with her and Fiona to a night club. They had danced, drank and laughed.

Desna loved when V and Fiona brought her with them. She felt older. An adoult. And for some reason she even felt prettier and more confident.

They walked back home, but since the day after V and Kev would have gotten married, Desna and V would have slept to the Gallaghers, to not let Kev see the bride.

When they got inside the house, no one was at home. Carl was with Lip at the Alibi, for Kev's bachelor party. For what Desna remembered, Ian was at Kesh's house, for their date. And Debbie and Liam were at Sheila's, so that they wouldn't spend the night alone.

"V," Fiona said to her friend, "You sleep with me? Desna can sleep in Debbie's room," V agreed as she walked up the stairs, "That's fine by me. Des?"

"Sure," she answered following the other two upstairs. It didn't take long for Desna to fall asleep. By the time she had taken her dress off and her face hitting the pillow, she fell in a deep sleep. She never woke up. And her sleep had been dreamless, but peaceful anyway.

When she woke up, the next morning, Desna could hear some faint voices from downstairs, but she could not understand what they were saying. She got up, looking around. She needed something to cover herself. She had forgotten her pijamas.

When she opened the door, to look in the corridor, she noticed Lip getting out of his room. She smiled seeing him. He clearly got an hungover. But even in his conditions, ge had noticed her on the door.

"I've really drank too much," he said with a smirk, eyeing her from head to toe. Clearly liking see her wearing only her bra and panties.

Desna giggled as she walked towards him, with crossed arms. "I defenately can say that."

Lip's eyebrows rose, "That bad?"

Desna touched his forehead, "You tell me, Pil," he chuckled. Someone had wrote his name backwards on his forehead. He didn't even washed it away the night before. He must have been wasted.

"And what are you doing here?" He asked taking another good look at her, "Seducing me?"

She laughed, "I was hoping more on a shirt," Desna said.

"How cruel," he said, "Wait here," Desna looked at him as he get back in his room. Lip didn't take long before getting back with one of his shirts.

"Thank you," she said happily, but he took it out of her reach. "Can I have a kiss first?" He smirked. And even if she would have liked to tease him a bit, Desna really wanted to kiss him. So with a smile, she circled his neck with her arms, before crushing her lips to his. She heard Lip smirk against her, before hugging her waist, deepening the kiss. Desna's fingers went to his hair, loving the way Lip kissed her.

"I'm maid of honor and I don't know you had a brother," Fiona's voice got Desna attention, making her break the kiss.

"What is it?" Asked Lip with a frown, but Desna shushed him.

"There's a reason for that," she heard Kev. Desna got closer to the stairs.

"He bust out of preason?" Fiona asked.

"Last night," Kev answered.

"Oh shit," Desna muttered. Lip got more confused.

"What was he in for?" Fiona was asking sitting on the couch, with a cup of coffee in her hand. Desna could already see the distress on V's face as she paced the livingroom wearing only her bra and underwear.

"Aggravated assault, larceny and arson," V answered angrily.

"Arson?" Lip asked from behind Desna, as they made their way down the stairs, "Who you talking about?"

"V's brother," Desna answered, and then she walked to the chair to sit down.

"Oh, is that, like a sibling brother, or a black-guy brother?" Lip asked confused, making Desna glare at him.

"Remember the fire at Curves in the mall?" V started to say, putting her clothes back on, "That was him," Lip turned to Desna, that nodded. She still remembered that day. It had been hell.

"He loves setting fire to things," V kept explaining, "And he hates women. It was the perfect storm," Fi had wide eyes, while Lip had lit up a cigarette, walking towards where Desna was, taking a sit on the arm of the chair she was sit on.

"He's nuts." Kev exclaimed and Desna did not feel to disagree. He was not a presence she felt very comfortable with, "Serious, he's nuts. He came at me. I had to fight my ass off."

Desna's eyes widened, "You okay?"

"Yes, babe," Kev answered, before keep telling his story. "Then one time I'm having a brew, he came up to me; all: 'Ass cunt fuck!' on me."

Fiona frowned, "Is he retarded?"

"He's got Tourette," answered Desna.

"Yeah, coupled with bipolar disorder and drinking problem," V added, "He's a shrink's wet dream."

Desna and Lip shared a look.

"What do we do now?" Desna asked turning to V.

"Kick his ass back to prison," exclaimed the woman, "You know this, Des. If there's one person you can always count on to fuck things up, it's Marty." Desna nodded her head, silently. "I'm going to talk to him," she said, gesturing to Kev to follow her.

"I'm coming too." Fiona said standing up.

"What do I do?" Desna asked.

"You stay here," V said as they walked towards the door. "He's far too agitated."

"Alright," Desna muttered, looking at the door closing. Then she stood up.

"Is it bad?" Asked Lip with brow raised as he blew out some smoke.

Desna shrugged her shoulders, "I wouldn't say 'bad', but surely is an inconvenience."

V wanted nothing but to spend a good daw for her wedding, and she really didn't want anything to ruin it. But Marty could be really stubborn and since he had broke out of preason they rather had to convince him to turn himself in, or call the police. And everything before that afternoon.

"Hey," Lip said, taking her hand so that she could look at him, "It's going to be fine," he assured her, his hands on her hips, "And we are going to have so much fun tonight."

She let out a little giggle. She barely could wait for Lip to see her dress.

"Yes?" He asked pulling her close to give her neck a quick kiss.

"Yes," she answered pulling back, "But go take a shower. I really can't take you seriously with 'Pil' on your forehead."

He chuckled, his lips pecked hers, "Alright. Eat something." She nodded as he walked towards the stairs. Then Desna went to the kitchen to eat some cereal with a cup of milk. In the mean time both Ian and Carl had woken up.

"Hello, gorgeous," said Carl, still wearing the clothes from the days before.

"Hello, Carl," she answered pushing the pack of cereal to him. "Did you have fun yesterday?"

He nodded, "There were strippers." Desna nodded, "I really don't wanna know," then she got up to get closer to Ian.

"What are you doing here?" She asked on a whisper, "I thought you had a date."

Ian looked at her, after making sure that his brother was busy with something else.

"It was too strange," he muttered, "In his room. His and his wife's room. And with all the pictures of their sons."

"That's awkward," Desna could not find it difficoult to believe thst Ian had decided to ran away. "What are you planning on doing now?"

Ian shook his head, "I don't know." Desna smiled affectionstely, before going on her tiptoes, to kiss Ian on the cheek.

"You'll figure it out," she said as he nodded looking at her, "And if you think about calling things off, you're handsome, I'm sure all the boys in Chicago wants to have their way with you."

Ian let out a chuckle before kissing her temple.

After that, Desna decided to go upstairs to wash and change herself. When she reached the top, she saw Lip in his room. He was wearing only his jeans and he was drying his hsir with a towel.

"You like what you see?" He asked noticing her on the door frame.

"You know I like it," Lip chuckled, looking at her. "I like it too."

Desna shook her head, before heading back to the bathroom. Since they decided to get back at their situationship, Desna could feel that there was something different between them. But she really did not want to ask anything. She wanted to enjoy Lip's attentions. Lip became restless everytime she had tried to ask what he felt for her, so she decided to wait.

After having washed up, she went back to Debbie's room to take her belongings. But when she entered, her eyes went to her phone. She had recieved a message. Curiously she took her phone in her hand, and opened the notification.

Hi.

It said only that. Desna looked up at the number, but it was written 'Unknown'. Who could that be?

"Des, you want my pants, so you don't have to put yesterday dress on?" Lip had entered, making her turn to the door. "You okey?" He asked with a frown. He was too intelligent to miss anything.

"Just a message," she said. And that seemed to get him curious as he got close.

"From who?"

"It's unknown," she answered with a shrug of her shoulders, heanding the phone to him, "Probably they got the wrong number."

He read the message, before frown again, "Could have said more."

"Or not," she said taking the phone back, "I really don't want a dirty text from a stranger."

That made him chuckle, "And from me?"

She pushed him playfully, "Stop it," she sid with a laugh, "I want to go see if V and Kev need help with Marty."

He nodded his head, "Cool," he said, "Let's go."

After she got ready, pulling some of Lip's clothes on, Desna was ready to go out. Lip went with her as he promised and Carl had decided to go with them. But when they arrived at Desna's house, they caught Fiona, V and Kev holding a ladder, where Debbie had climbed to look inside the house.

"Call the cops on my own brother?" V was saying, "It's always like this. Nobody can be center of attention. It's always gotta be about him," then she yelled, "You should be in a nuthouse!"

"What's going on?" Lip asked with a frown.

"Veronica's brother is threatening to burn the place down," Fiona expalined to them.

"What?" Exclaimed Desna.

"Cool," said Carl from in front of her, that decided to ignore him.

"He's saying that he's gonna light thr dress and the shit-sack house on fire," Debbie said from above them.

"Oh shit," Desna muttered, sharing a look with V and Kev.

"What a shit-sack?" Debbie asked with a frown.

**************

Tag List: @th3h0nkz @aunicornmademedoit @g0thchick

If you want to be add to the tag list just let me know.

If you liked it, plerase leave a ♥️ and reblog!

#shameless imagine #shameless #shameless fanfiction #shameless smut #lip gallagher x oc #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher fanfiction #carl gallagher #ian gallagher #fiona gallagher #debbie gallagher #liam gallagher #veronica fisher #kevin ball #frank gallagher

[zcorners120]

shut up, and get in.

arthur leclerc x fem!reader

synopsis; you and arthur hate each other, you hating his obsession with his pristine car, and him hating your arrogance. but when he sees you in need, he gets over his ego.

warnings; none, fluff

MASTER LIST

You worked as a mechanic at the Ferrari driver's academy, and having the biggest displeasure and unfortune to be working directly with Arthur Leclerc.

Being a female mechanic and being more.. feminine, you were constantly put down, underestimated and undervalued. Therefore building a hard exterior and persona around yourself, as a coping mechanism, to defend yourself.

Your first encounter with the eminent Charles Leclerc's famed younger brother, was disillusioning. You were previously pissed off with some other mechanics making inappropriate comments towards you, along with some inappropriate touching.

Your anger was bubbling up, where Arthur had shoved past you, and your tolerance had way boiled over.

"Watch it, asshole." You spoke up from behind him, to be met with his face turning around.

"Me, the asshole? That's pretty bold." His thick French accent had announced, eyebrows drawn showing that he doesn't think anything's wrong.

"Bold huh? Well I'm working on your car this afternoon, so I'd keep quiet." You retort, threatening him slightly.

"Ridiculous." He fires back, walking way, ever-so-smug.

You huff, knowing that this is going to be one of many fights you'll have to stand for.

You'd always watch him walking in the academy in the mornings, carefully parking his slick, black BMW, with not a speck of dirt, dust or grime on it. He treated the car as his own child, and didn't let a single person touch it, nor ride in it.

It ticked you off even more, as it really showed you his priorities in today's world.

On this particular morning, you'd driven your car into work like usual. Putting your stuff into your locker, you realised that you'd left your lunch in the car.

You were walking across the gravel road, dust kicking off the back of your old Chuck Taylor's, but slowing down seeing Arthur ride into the lot. Ignoring his car, you walked up to your Audi R8, one of your prized possessions. But not in a weird way like Arthur.

Opening up the door, you heard a strange hissing sound coming your feet, but the sound was beaten out by Arthur unfortunately parking next to you.

"Don't touch-" He starts,

"Your car, got it Sherlock" You cut in, hearing the phrase a million times. "Morning to you too." You continue, hearing the hissing again.

He starts to move around you, shutting the door.

"Don't move!" You mutter out loudly, feeling his eyebrows raise in judgement already.

"Holy shit." He exclaims, walking past to you and to the side of your back tire, pulling out a huge kitchen knife with a note stabbed into it.

Your eyes widen, pulling the note off and reading it.

"I wouldn't-" Arthur warns, trying to snatch the note back, but failing from your reflexes.

The note reads;

Woman such as yourself don't belong in a mans playhouse, the garage. A pretty face like yours should stay in the kitchen and only be used for pleasure, we gave you a knife to get started. :)

You drop the note, not being able to look into Arthur's eyes, feeling absolutely humiliated in front of him, giving him another reason to think of you as pathetic.

You just knew it was him and the other mechanics playing a cruel, and twisted prank on you, and you couldn't take it.

"Hope you feel happy with yourself, just for 5 minutes of approval from a bunch of guys who haven't felt the touch of a woman for many years." You spat out, barely being able to handle the tears flooding in your eyes.

You walked away, not looking at his reaction as you go straight into the women's toilets, sick and tired of the lack of respect and common decency that you never receive. You were a fighter, and you held out. You didn't let such comments ever get to you, and knew your perseverance would only lead you to bigger places in life.

As you sat on the counter of the sinks, looking down at your phone, you had zero idea of what was going on outside.

Arthur saw your face screw up in anger, betrayal and disappointment. He was absolutely furious, livid in fact. Knowing that some sexist fuck in there, fucked with his girl.

Hearing you blame him for it only made him even angrier, at them and at himself. He felt ashamed for how he acted, but in reality he didn't know why he acted like that himself.

He doesn't like you, he hates you, but then why is he so angry? Why did he care so much? All of these mixed feelings and emotions were hitting him all at once, and when he saw you walk away, he turned vengeful.

Walking into the academy not that long after you, holding the note balled up in his hand, and the knife in the other, he spotted the main culprit.

Tapping his shoulder, the guy turned his overweight body towards Arthur, his messy, unkept stubble and beer on his breath was overpowering. Arthur punched him straight in the nose, seeing red. He backed the guy against the wall, holding the knife up to him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, pulling shit like this, at my girl?" He spat out, feeling people trying to grab him back and off the guy, but he held his ground.

He shook the hands off him and eyed all the other mechanics, probably following the ideals and mimicking the fat guy's thoughts.

"Any of you, pull this shit again and you'll be sorry." He warned, a look that could kill painted on Arthur's face as he watched the other mechanics look down in shame, and fear.

He stormed away, going away to fake a smile and do some promotional-media shit.

You come back out, watching everyone eerily silent and working intently. You didn't want to cause a scene and make this bigger than it has to be, so you went into the reporter's office to finish some overdue paperwork.

It was 7:30, everyone had left by then, as you click the black pen and put aside the mound of paper you were working on. Pushing yourself off the black leather sofa, you push the oak door open, and see through the windows that it's pouring outside.

What a great way to end your horrific day, thanks Zeus, for adorning the day with a rainy showers.

Knowing you can't take your car home, you sling your bag onto your shoulder, and walk out into the rain. You walk out of the gates and down the road, watching as your clothes get darker from the rain.

You hear the roar of an engine behind you, slowing down next to you. You turn to the window, to be met with Arthur's face, pulling the window down from his seat.

"Get in." He states, staring at your current damp situation.

"Now, that's humour. Get in your car? You've made my week." You joke sarcastically, knowing he'd never let you in his car, especially wet. You carry on walking, but notice the car is also slowly moving forward with you.

You halt to a stop, he also stops.

"I'm not kidding, Y/N. Get in, you're freezing." He carries on, getting annoyed at your reluctance.

"I'm not going to get in and ruin your car. Are you not forgetting about what happened this morning?" You say, watching as he groans in frustration, pinching his nose with his long fingers.

"Shut up, and get in." He warns, you give up, having a crappy day already.

You yank the car door open, and sink into the warm leather seats, and closing the door carefully, as to not annoy him even more.

You stare out of the window, trying not to look at his big hand, graced with gentle veins steering the car effortlessly, with the other changing gears. You stop at a red light, the ambiance lights of his car setting a purple tint on the both of you.

He reaches over and stretches his arm past your boobs, and pulls the seatbelt, the metal drifting over your chest, clicking it in place. You wondered what was going through his mind, he switches up so fast.

"I didn't do it, you know." He claims, looking straight ahead, as the light changes green and the car kicks back into life.

"Surprising. I'm used to it by now." You say, stunning him slightly.

"Why didn't you tell me that they're such jerks?" He questions, looking over at you for a split second.

"You wouldn't care, I thought you endorsed their behaviour." You say, looking down at your soaked shoes. You continued, not letting him answer, "Why did you let me in if I'm in such a state right now?"

"The car can get cleaned, and I let you in because I care. I don't endorse their behaviour, I gave them a piece of my mind when you left." The Monegasque boy's voice drawls on, so pleasing to listen too.

"Why do we act like we hate each other?" Your meek voice questions, pathetically finding comfort in the car that smells just like him.

"I guess, emotions are complicated." He assumes, working his hand on the back of your headrest, backing up into his driveway. He switches the engine off and runs around the car to open your door. "I'll get you cleaned up and warm" He slightly hesitates, not knowing what's come over him.

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[cowboycannibalism]

I seen this 3 weeks ago but I'm barely posting it because I forgot lol work got crazy

okay some immediate thoughts on The Menu (2022), I literally just got out of the theater so it's very fresh and jumbled in my mind. ⚠️some spoilers included⚠️

Definitely a slow start and requires paying attention to little details to really get a read on the individual characters but I really enjoyed that. It makes you uneasy throughout most of it

It could have used a little more gore/blood but honestly the kills that happened were so jarring and unexpected it made up for the lack of blood

my sister ( a person who went to culinary school), and I (a person who went to art school) both enjoyed the aesthetic of the movie very very much! especially the close ups of the individual courses and descriptions that went along with them. they were beautiful and an interesting way to break up scenes

the characters were all so well done in terms of making you not root for them lol. a group of stuck up, rich people who just right off the bat were people I knew I wouldn't like

that being said the casting was wonderful! everyone played their character so well!

Tyler was so annoying! He had hyperfixated vibes at first where it was very relatable that he was so obsessed with the restaurant and the chef and everything. But as the movie went on he treated Margot like shit for not being as interested even though he was fucking paying her!! like bro you just spent half of the beginning of this saying she was so cool and being cutesy with her and also oh yeah she's an escort so quit being a dick you had to pay her to be there!

I will say Tyler's death definitely hurt me in a weird way. Watching Slowik humiliate him in front of everyone and then say something so cruel that he goes to kill himself...oof.

Also Tyler knowing for 8 months about everything!!! fuck dude.

Lilian and Ted were so realistic in the way that food critics(or any high end critics)talk about the dishes put in front of them. They could never just enjoy something, they always had to find the negative, never could be pleased or satisfied because that doesn't make an interesting review

Margot standing up to Slowik and making him make her a cheeseburger because of his past was so beautiful. Her push back to him being both disrespectful and firm while also giving him back that memory of being a line cook at a burger place from his youth. Of reawakening that love of cooking in him for just a moment.

the overall theme of an artist losing their love for their craft not necessarily it being their fault but because of the community that surrounds that medium was very rough for me to watch as an artist. The art world(any form of art) is so full of classicism and the further you get, the more praise you receive, the more known you become, the harsher it is to you. Not for the sake of bettering you or the craft, no its often just a game of egos and money and fame. Slowik had started off a line cook with a love of what he was doing and then to please the community that surrounded him he changed, and the thing that he loved, that he cherished, it became a chore. a punishment.

Everyone had a reason to be there and I can't find any pity for them except maybe the workers in the kitchen.

the scene with the tortillas had me screaming!!! the exposure of the misdeeds was mwah!!!

Also the fact that no one really tried their hardest to get away was really interesting. they protested things happening to them, they screamed and yelled and tried to escape a few times but it never felt frantic, it never felt like they were desperate to live.

that ties into the way that they eventually accept their fate at the end. they know why they're all there and they know it's pointless to fight or scream about their status or offer money/fame/etc.

they also all in their own way had lost their way in life and the whole menu was designed to show them that as well as how they ruined Slowik's love of his art

#the menu #horror #horror films #movie review #the menu 2022 #anya taylor joy #yami's movie thoughts