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snowyslytherinowl · 10 months

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Locked in the Staffroom

PAIRING: Severus Snape x (Professor) Reader

SUMMARY: Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall know that Severus Snape and you have hidden feelings for each other. When Snape refuses to acknowledge that you truly reciprocate his feelings, they lock him in the staffroom to force him to finally ask you out.

*GIF isn't mine.

Excited whispers and giggles sound from inside the staffroom. Who in the wizarding world is giggling? Severus thinks before he pushes the door open. No wonder; it’s Dumbledore and Minerva. The two jump away from each other the second Severus walks in. Tea flies into Minerva’s hands, and Dumbledore stares dreamily out the window.

“Good day, Severus. What brings you here?” Minerva asks after sipping her tea.

He ignores their question and sneers, “What were you two old bats whispering about?”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkle behind his half-moon spectacles. “In truth, Minerva and I were discussing what a lovely couple you and the charming History of Magic professor would make.” Minerva chokes on her tea, clearly unaware that Dumbledore planned to spill the details of their gossip talk. “We know of your deep, burning feelings for her and believe that it would be prudent to act on them.”

Blood rushes to Severus’s face. “I do not have feelings for her,” he spits. Even if he did, he thinks they would be neither deep nor burning. Sitting next to you at every meal, admiring your outfits and eyes, and dreaming of your every waking moment surely doesn’t constitute as that.

Fine, perhaps he does fancy you just a little bit.

“One may attempt to conceal their love, but love cannot be concealed in the way one gazes at their beloved,” Dumbledore says dreamily.

“She looks at you the same way you look at her, lucky for you.” Minerva raises her eyebrows and throws him a knowing, smug smile. “If you weren’t always so engrossed in your work, you’d see it, too.”

Severus rolls his eyes. “I do not appreciate your meddling in my relationships with the other professors. Either way, you are becoming old and delusional.” The other two professors burst out laughing as Severus turns away and pours a cup of tea for himself. He makes a final comment as his back is turned, “Perhaps you bats need better spectacles or charms to improve your sanity.”

Mere seconds after he takes his first sip, the staffroom door opens. Severus’s eyes shoot up to see who has entered into this embarrassing conversation, and it is none other than you. His gaze immediately lowers back to the tea, and his hair falls around his face to shield the fact that his face is turning an even brighter shade of red. You take note of the tense atmosphere and awkwardly greet, “Hi, everyone.”

Dumbledore and Minerva warmly greet you, while Severus nods in your direction. You blush at Severus’s albeit scarce attention and walk to stand by him at the drink table.

“Look at the time. It appears that Minerva and I must depart for our daily bird watching. Hogsmeade residents have reported a sighting of the Fiery Frizzle, and it would be an absolute shame to miss witnessing the bird setting a cottage on fire,” Dumbledore declares. Minerva plays along and they stand up to leave the room.

“I didn’t know that you’re into bird watching,” you note as you pour milk into a coffee.

“They aren’t,” Severus grunts with full knowledge of their true plan. They want to give you two some privacy so he can make some grand gesture demonstrating his love for you. Too bad for them; he plans to leave the staffroom soon after the older professors depart. Regardless of Severus’s comments, the two give him expectant glances before exiting.

Silence engulfs the staffroom until you say, “I brought essays to grade. You can join me only if you want to, of course.” You smile shyly when he looks at you.

“Unfortunately, I have duties to attend to,” Severus says and downs his remaining tea in one go despite how it burns his throat. With his hair covering his eyes, he glances at your dress one last time before heading for the door. It’s truly a shame that he doesn’t have more time (the courage, rather) to admire how it shows your curves in all the right places.

Severus attempts to turn the door handle and discovers that it’s jammed. No matter the spell he casts and how many times he impatiently grunts “alohomora,” the door doesn’t budge. He notices that you’re looking at him, earning a nervous laugh from him. “The door refuses to open. Not surprising, considering I have been telling Dumbledore that it requires repair.”

“Really? I never had an issue with it. Do you need help?” you ask, but still walk over before he can respond. You cast several spells of your own, none of which work to open the door. Severus feels flustered, but whether it’s because of your closeness or his embarrassment at being unable to complete a simple task on his own, he doesn’t know.

As you attempt to remove the door handle altogether, a realization hits Severus: the door won’t open unless he confesses his feelings or asks you out. His blood boils as he thinks about how that pair of old baboons are probably up in Dumbledore’s office at this very moment, giggling and kicking their feet with excitement like schoolchildren. He can’t wait to get out of here so he can storm into the office and hit them with every jinx and hex he can think of.

But then again, neither of you can leave unless he makes a move. The staffroom is hardly the place for pouring his heart out or asking you out on a date. Severus supposes that inviting you to the Three Broomsticks is the best option since you might think he’s merely asking you as a friend. Though what is he supposed to do? Lean against the door and nonchalantly say, “Go to the Three Broomsticks with me?” Or magic a flower into existence and pop the question? Merlin, why does this feel more nerve-wracking than taking on a dragon or walking through the Forbidden Forest during a gloomy night?

He’s snapped to attention when you say, “I don’t think this thing will budge.”

“Yes, I believe so,” he mutters back. You’re looking up at him through your eyelashes. Ugh, this seems like the best time to ask you on a date. He crosses his arms against his chest, then uncrosses them because it makes him seem closed-off. Then they hang limply against his sides; no, that makes him look weak. Never mind any of this; just say something!

“Er, I want to… I was wondering if perhaps you, er,” he stammers and forces the rest out in a rushed sentence, “WouldliketogototheThreeBroomstickswithme?”

You scrunch your face together. “What?”

Why couldn’t you just hear him the first time? Do you wish to embarrass him? His eyes fix on a point on the ground to avoid the impending look of horror on your face as he clearly enunciates his next sentence. “Do you want to go to the Three Broomsticks with me this Saturday?”

With every ounce of his being, Severus forces himself to look at you. Disgust isn’t written on your face at all. Instead, you’re grinning widely, and your eyes are even brighter than usual. “Yes! Is six okay?”

The muscles of his mouth force his lips into a small smile. “Er, it is,” he replies without thinking if it does. Either way, he’d move around his entire schedule for a mere minute of your time. But then his heart sinks as he realizes that you’ve likely only agreed to accompany him to the Three Broomsticks as an outing between two friends.

Severus is proven wrong once more when you lean up to him and give him a quick kiss on the cheek! Oh no, he must look like a bashful schoolboy due to his burning cheeks and widening grin. No matter any of that, though, because you kissed his cheek!

“I, er, I shall see you then,” he stammers. You smile and nod in agreement before he reaches for the door handle to leave before he bursts with giddiness. Lo and behold, the door finally opens.

Unlike what Severus expected, Minerva and Dumbledore are standing at the end of the corridor. Good; he can murder them without having to walk too far! He rushes over to them and upon seeing him, their faces break out into vicious little smirks.

“I have half a mind to turn you into mice and feed you to snakes!” Severus sneers.

The two professors look at each other and laugh so hard that Minerva has to put a hand on Dumbledore’s arm to stable herself. “We see that you’ve taken our advice to heart,” Dumbledore says. “Did she agree to your invitation?”

“That is none of your business!” he spits.

“It appears that she did agree, Albus!” Minerva exclaims. “You can thank us for that later. I rather think that Minerva would be a beautiful middle name for your future baby girl.”

Severus’s eyes narrow and he advances on the two, but he merely gets close enough to scowl in their faces. “I rather think that name hideous!” he snaps and jerks back to leave the two where they are in the hall.

But he’s halfway to the stairs when Dumbledore calls back, “Perhaps Albus would be a suitable middle name for a boy!”

Severus doesn’t respond. Instead, he flicks his wand at a window, smashing it and sending glass flying everywhere. His cloak billows around him as he grumpily climbs the stairs and disappears from sight, but he can’t help but wonder what name would be regal enough for his future child.

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kvtie444 · 6 months

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➶ ˚ · SINK DEEP

A/N: kinda hate kinda love

Summary: reader and chris are friends, thinks get steamy in the hot tub 😏

Warnings: nsfw?? kissing, swearing, drinking, suggestive lmao

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The night air wrapped around us like a warm embrace as Nick and I continued our gossip session in the hot tub, sipping on margaritas - Nick's was currently on a tangent about Chris. "He literally has no boundaries," Nick exclaimed, raising his eyebrows for emphasis. I chuckled at his tangent, well aware of Chris's quirks. Whilst we were friends, there was always an unspoken tension between us.

Sipping my drink, the alcohol burning my throat, I glanced at Nick, who wasn't exactly the best bartender. The sound of water jets hummed softly in the background, steam and bubbles rising, creating a dreamlike atmosphere under the night sky.

Suddenly, I hear a splash, I look over to nick, who’s getting out of the hot tub. I shoot him a confused look. “It’s too hot and I’m pruning up like crazy” he says as he exited the hot tub, wrapping a towel around himself. "You staying in here?" he asked. I nodded, promising to join him later as I adjusted my bikini straps.

Alone in the warm water, I closed my eyes, relishing the peaceful ambiance. The back door slid open, and I assumed it was Nick returning. "Come back for another marg?," I called out casually.

"No, because I'm not a pussy."

My eyes shot open, and I turned my head to find Chris standing there, smirking in black trunks, a towel around his neck, and his signature silver chain. I sighed, "Was just having a relaxing moment," but Chris paid no mind.

He teased, "Don't act like you're not happy to see me," before grabbing the bottle of tequila from the makeshift bar. He joined me in the hot tub, sitting opposite, holding eye contact with me the whole time.

I couldn't help but chew on my cheek nervously before bringing the rim of my margarita glass to my lips, stealing a glance at Chris who, without missing a beat, was downing tequila straight from the bottle. My eyes widened, and I couldn't hide the bewilderment etched across my face.

"I don't know how you can do that," I commented, scrunching my face at Chris, who simply nodded in response. With a subtle wave of his middle and index finger, he beckoned me over, “come”

Confused yet intrigued, I approached him, and before I could grasp the situation, he closed the distance between us. Our bodies now pressed against each other's sides, I looked up at him, still uncertain of what was about to transpire. His lips glistened as he licked them, a prelude to the unexpected lesson he was about to impart.

"Open your mouth, breathe in deep when you drink, and exhale deeply after," he instructed, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. Cupping his hand under my jaw, he tilted it upward, bringing the tequila bottle into view. Slowly comprehending the scenario, I parted my lips slightly, extending my tongue ever so slightly.

His gaze locked onto me as he poured not one, not two, but well over three shots down my throat. The burning sensation intensified with each gulp, causing me to scrunch my face and shut my eyes. Instinctively, I pushed his hand away with the bottle, signalling I had reached my limit.

I swallowed hard, the lingering burn threatening to make me gag. Reacting on reflex, I clutched onto Chris's bicep, my eyes still shut whilst coughing slightly, my head resting against his shoulder. He laughs at my reaction, rubbing up and down my back soothingly, his warm hand resting there.

I finally lifted my head, meeting Chris's gaze as he slyly glanced at my chest before smoothly redirecting his attention to my lips and then my eyes. His smirk added an electrifying tension to the air. "You took that well, ma," Fuck. That name always got me weak in the knees.

My eyes involuntarily flickered to his lips, and I licked my own as I locked eyes with him again. Chris briefly stuck his tongue in his cheek before biting his lip. His hand moved with deliberate intent, toying with the strap of my bikini, each touch sending jolts of electricity through my body.

Leaning over me, his presence became magnetic, and I couldn't help but lean in closer. His hand cupped my jaw, the other still resting around my shoulders, as he pressed his lips against mine with a soft intensity. His chain dangled over me, a visual reminder of the height difference between us. I surrendered to the kiss, leaning further into it, my hands instinctively gripping his shoulders.

As the kiss between Chris and me deepened, I seized the moment, gently pushing him down as I straddled him. Chris, ever-responsive, quickly shifted, his hands gripping my waist with a bruisingly tight, possessive desire.

I could feel him smirk against me as he moved down to kiss across my jaw, trailing along my neck and chest. A soft sigh escaped me, a blend of the heat radiating from both Chris's touch and the steam rising from the hot tub. His lips returned to mine, the kiss now more passionate - I surrendered to his lead in the kiss, his dominance in the exchange evident.

Tasting the remnants of tequila on his lips, his hands traced a tantalizing path down my body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His hands found their way to my as, gripping slightly as he guided our movements, initiating a slow and enticing grind. A small moan escaped Chris's lips, sending delightful vibrations through me. I sighed in response, feeling him grow beneath me, the undeniable chemistry between us creating an intoxicating blend of desire and pleasure in the steamy embrace of the hot tub.

He deftly pushed down the straps of my bikini, his kisses trailing down the newly exposed skin, a mix of sucking and nipping that left a trail of marks in their wake. "Chris, please," I whined, the pleasure and anticipation building up. He pulled away, creating an almost inaudible pop, admiring the marks he had left against my skin.

"Use your words, baby," he mumbled against my ear, planting a soft kiss just below it, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. "I need you," I managed to say, tugging slightly at the hair on the back of his head.

"Want me to make you feel good, princess?" he cooed, pulling back to look into my eyes. Frantically, I nodded, almost lost in a trance of desire. Before I could register the next move, he slapped my ass, the sensation sending a jolt through me.

"Get up, we're going to my room,"

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

tag list !!

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#chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #angst #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #fluff #imagine #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #smut #Spotify

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brainrot-radio · 29 days

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Sip the gossip, drink 'til you choke Sip the gossip, burn down your throat

(Alternate versions under the cut)

#peter strahm #saw franchise #augh #tuning in #I think about him a lot

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its-avalon-08 · 1 month

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Fellas!!! just hear me out!!! One story about Jenson Button based on Edison Lighthouse - Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes). She's his assistant, a little clumsy in her daily life but she's very efficient at her job. He has a massive crush on her

love grows where my rosemary goes (jb22)

y/n fumbled with the travel mug, spilling a searing stream of coffee down her pristine white blouse. "oh no!" she shrieked, hopping on one foot as the liquid burned through the fabric.

her hair is kinda wild and free

jenson button, watching from his driver's room doorway, fought back a laugh. it wasn't the first time his ever-so-slightly-clumsy assistant had a mishap. yet, despite the constant stream of minor disasters – misplaced files, tripped heels, rogue staplers launching staples across the room – y/n was the epitome of efficiency. her calendar was his lifeline, her emails impeccably crafted, and her research skills unmatched.

And people say she's crazy

he cleared his throat, stepping into the room. "seems like love grows where your coffee goes today, eh y/n?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

y/n whipped around, the mug clutched precariously in her hand. "jenson! don't start," she mumbled, cheeks flushing a shade that rivaled the spilled coffee.

he couldn't help but grin. "here, let me help." jenson took the mug, placing it on his desk. "go change, I'll grab you another coffee."

"thank you," y/n mumbled, scurrying out of the office.

jenson shook his head, a warmth spreading through him as he watched her go. he'd been harboring a secret crush on y/n for months. but confessing felt like navigating a formula 1 race with a blindfold on – potentially disastrous.

he grabbed a fresh mug, a mischievous idea forming in his head. as y/n returned, looking sheepish but still beautiful, he placed the mug on his desk. "here you go," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

y/n cautiously took a sip. "mmm, that's better. thanks, jenson."

"no problem," he said, leaning back in his chair. "so why are you downing your third coffee of the day?," he began.

y/n's eyes widened. "you kept count?"

he smirked. "yeah. you seem to be quite flustered today."

"oh!" y/n's cheeks flushed again. "it's just... i need the caffeine to keep up with you, mr. button," she countered, a playful edge to her voice.

jenson's heart did a little skip. "actually," he admitted, leaning forward, "it's you who keeps up with me. you're amazing at your job, y/n."

a genuine smile bloomed on her face. "thank you, jenson. that means a lot."

the room fell silent for a moment, a comfortable quiet settling between them. jenson took a deep breath. "y/n," he started, his voice low, "there's something I've been wanting to tell you..."

oh, but love grows where my rosemary goes

the office door burst open, shattering the moment. jenson's publicist, richard, barreled in, phone pressed to his ear. "jenson, urgent interview request! need you on set in fifteen!"

jenson groaned. "alright, alright, richard," he sighed, his eyes locking with y/n's for a fleeting second. "we'll continue this conversation later, alright?"

y/n nodded, a hint of disappointment in her eyes. "later," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips.

as jenson followed richard out, the half-confession hanging in the air, he couldn't help but think – maybe, just maybe, love was about to grow where his assistant was too.

she's really got a magical spell

the press conference crackled with a peculiar tension. jenson, impeccably dressed but internally simmering, fielded questions from a pack of reporters hungry for gossip. it was after a particularly grueling race, and the focus seemed to be less on his performance and more on his personal life, with thinly veiled jabs about his "playboy" image.

one particularly obnoxious reporter, a woman with a permanent smirk plastered on her face, leaned forward, her voice dripping with insinuation. "jenson, rumors have been swirling about your recent 'companionship' with a young model. can you confirm or deny these claims?"

jenson gritted his teeth. he was about to launch into a rehearsed, pr-approved response when a voice, clear and unwavering, cut through the cacophony.

"excuse me," y/n said, her voice surprisingly firm as she stepped forward from the corner where she'd been quietly taking notes. "mr. button's private life is exactly that – private. perhaps we could focus on the actual race, where he displayed exceptional skill and…" she trailed off, a glint of defiance in her eyes, "...strategic brilliance."

that i love her endlessly

the room went silent, the reporters momentarily stunned. jenson's heart thudded against his ribs, a mixture of surprise and admiration washing over him. he'd never seen y/n like this – a tiny titan, standing up for him in a room full of sharks.

y/n continued, her voice gaining confidence. "mr. button's talent and dedication speak for themselves. let's talk about the record-breaking lap time he achieved in the third quarter, or the…"

the reporters, caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events, started peppering her with questions about the race. y/n, much to jenson's amusement, expertly fielded them all, her knowledge of the sport as impressive as her poise.

as the press conference ended, the reporters shuffled out, muttering amongst themselves. jenson turned to y/n, speechless.

"y/n, that was…" he began, searching for the right words.

there's something about her hand holding mine

"just doing my job," she said, a hint of a blush creeping up her cheeks. "those questions were ridiculous."

jenson shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "you were incredible. you saved the day, again."

y/n looked down shyly. "i just didn't want them to disrespect you."

jenson reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "you never do," he murmured, his voice low. "you're an angel, y/n. you know that, right?"

nobody knows like me

y/n's eyes widened, surprise flickering across her face. jenson felt a surge of heat rise in his cheeks. maybe, just maybe, he'd let his feelings slip a little too much. but as he met her gaze, a hint of something new shimmering in her eyes, he couldn't help but hope that his not-so-subtle confession wasn't entirely lost in the haze.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

jenson u sweetheart<3

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more <3 happy reading!

leave a like! leave a note!

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

#jenson button #jenson button x reader #jenson button x you #jenson button x y/n #formula 1 #f1 imagine #formula one #red bull racing #y/n #mcalren #female f1 #f1 grid x reader #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #requests #ava speaks #romance #music

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maraudersmyloves · 2 months

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─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x reader

Warnings: underage drinking if your American

Word count: 1094

Disclaimer 1: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!!

"join me?". :☆｡ﾟ. ───

You're giggling while running towards your friends, two bottles in hand that are getting shaken a bit too much. Pansy is waving at you from the fire she set up. It has to be her, the boys are too stupid for that. You throw yourself down next to her and hand the bottles to a grinning Theo. You get some cheers and claps when they see the alcohol and act like you've just won an academy award. "I'd like to thank Filch for being stupid enough to get distracted by a spilled Potion and Mary from Hufflepuff for getting me some booze. I couldn't have done it without them!"

"Toast to Filch," Blaise hollers- "And Mary!" Draco ads and everyone pretends to raise their non existent glasses while Theo opens the bottles. You could swear he has a glint in his eye and it's a little scary. You laugh anyway.

Pansy throws an arm around you and pulls you closer to her while you lock eyes with Mattheo who gives you a soft smile that makes your chest hurt. He doesn't smile like this a lot but it's gotten more frequent. It makes you want to punch him. It's so undeniably sweet and affectionate that you have to actively push down the urge to throw yourself at him, kissing him all over. You look away when your cheeks heat a bit too much to be explained by the small fire in front of you. His eyes don't leave you.

Theo passes the Bottle to Draco while Blaise and Pansy Gossip about a Boy from Gryffindor. From what you can tell, he's a creep. "Draco, pass the bottle." He mutters under his breath about how little he's had, "I brought the booze, i get the booze." He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, yeah."

You take a swing, feeling the burn going down your throat. You lean against Pansy who seamlessly takes the bottle out of your hands and takes a sip before passing it to Blaise. You frown when he doesn't give it back to you. Pansy turns to you with a sparkle in her eye "Wanna swim?" You smile and nod before glancing at Mattheo who's still looking at you. You quickly look away and stand up, "Anyone else wanna come?"

"Come?" Draco asks, laughing. Drunk Draco is a Dirty mind and you roll your eyes at the reminder "We'll go swimming. Anyone wanna join". You glare at Draco while saying the last word, who just shakes his head while laughing quietly. The others shake their heads, and Tom mutters "later." There will be no later, Tom doesn't swim. "Fine, more fun for us." Pansy gives you a look and you know what you're supposed to do. You both take off your hoodies and jean shorts to reveal the Bikinis underneath. She folds the clothes for both of you while you walk towards Mattheo.

You look down at him. His soft smile has transformed into a smirk as he looks you up and down. He meets your eyes, looking at you through his lashes. You smile while putting your Hair into an updo, "Join me?"

He shifts on the ground, pretending to think. He knows he couldn't say no to you, but he can't make it too obvious. "In a sec." You pout playfully, "Oh, come on! Pansy's waiting for me," you look over to see her somehow already making out with Blaise. You roll your eyes, she was supposed to convince him to join, not join lips. Mattheo laughs, "Looks like she's busy." "More reason to keep me company." He smiles and rolls his eyes while you beg, "Please. please. please. pleaseeee, Mattheo. Please. Please Pleaseeee-" you yelp when he stands up and throws you over his shoulder. When did he lose his shirt?

You squeal when he starts running towards the lake keeping a tight grip around your waist. "Put me down," you scream through laughing. He pats your leg as soon as he's deep enough for your hair to already be wet and you take a deep breath in, as expected hitting the cold water only a second later. The cold washes over your body and you swim back up, being deeper than you expected. You gasp for air and see him laughing at you. You splash water at him causing him to look at you like you just stole his favorite hoodie. "how dare you?!" He says through laughter while you try to swim away from him while also splashing more water towards him.

He grabs your legs and pulls you towards him, you yelp and push him away as soon as he lets you go. You jump at him and push him underwater. He grabs you and pulls you down with him. You open your eyes and see him smiling. The water makes his hair look funny and you have to keep yourself from laughing to not breathe in water. He pulls you closer, looking at you with a smile while slowly swimming back up.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks while laughing softly and your laughter just gets worse now that you can let it out. " I'm sorry, I just- You-.” The laughter makes you double over and hide your face in his Neck. You don’t even notice what you're doing but the close proximity makes Mattheo blush. When you finally calm down and look at him, he raises his eyebrow.

“Your hair looked really funny,” you raise your hand to mess up his hair and annoy him. He scoffs but lets you do your thing. You lean back, letting your hand fall to his shoulder and your breath catches. His arms are around your waist, you’re chest to chest and his messed up hair looks a bit too good. “What,” he asks smiling. You notice his eyes glancing at your lips and your throat all of a sudden feels dry.

He squeezes your waist and leans closer, “Can I?”

You nod, “Please.” He connects your lips and you melt. His lips are soft and perfect as you move against each other. It feels so right. It’s soft and affectionate in a way that Mattheo’s only around you. He tries to pull you impossibly closer as you slide your hand into his Hair. You pull slightly and he bites your lip, causing you to gasp. He takes the opportunity and deepens the kiss moaning when you raise your legs to sit around his waist.

Water hits you and you break apart in shock. Draco smirks, “get a room.”

#headcanon #fluff #writing #fanfic #harry potter #mattheo r #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader

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shortnotsweet · 1 year

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[ “GOSSIP” ] :

Sip the gossip, drink ‘til you choke

Sip the gossip, burn down your throat.

You’re not iconic, you are just like them all

Don’t act like you don’t know.

— Maneskin ft. Tom Morello, “GOSSIP” from RUSH!

#rhaenicent #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x alicent #house of the dragon #hotd #my art #so basically gossip has followed Alicent + Rhaenyra all their lives for different reasons #and it was gossip that deteriorated the lives of their children and built up to the Dance #even after Alicent is on house arrest #the whispers of the court and the image of Rhaenyra never leave her #etc. etc.

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fandom-chic · 11 months

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Please Please Please: Chapter 4

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy realize there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

A/N: Hello everybody! Hope you enjoy this chapter. Love seeing all the comments, they make my heart smile. You guys rock my socks <3

Previous chapter

James and Y/N drove in silence through the streets of Small Heath. It was a silence that hung in the air like the end of a bad joke, except no one forced a polite smile, especially Y/N. All she wanted to do was curl in a ball on her bed and hope for sleep to take her away from Tommy. It seemed to be the only time she could truly escape from his grasp on her. It was when she saw the outline of The Garrison did she realize she had another outlet to forget about Thomas Shelby.

“Let me out here,” she said, not bothering to glance at her date. She felt the car slow to a stop and she hopped out. It was then that she spared a glance at James. There was a pitiful air to him, one that told her this was the last time she would see him.

“Get home safe.” Was all he said, before pulling her door shut and driving off. She watched the automobile disappear into the darkness. She would get home how she got home at this point, all she knew at this moment was she needed a glass of whiskey in her hand. She walked through the front door of The Garrison and was surprised to see it almost empty, except for a few patrons and one familiar figure.

“Look who the hell decided to show up.” she teased, a smile musing upon her lips. Arthur turned to face her, a goofy smirk on his face.

“If it ain’t Y/N,” he got up from his spot at the bar, approaching the younger woman and enveloping her in a hug. “How are you, love?”

“I’m alright,” Was all she was willing to disclose to him. He didn’t dig deeper as he ushered her toward the bar.

“And what will the lady be drinking tonight,” he asked, motioning for the bartender to approach.

“The strongest whiskey you have,” she replied, eliciting an eyebrow raise from the bartender. He could sense her present level of intoxication, but he didn’t question it. He poured her a glass, nodded toward Arthur, and began to clean the bar. She took a large swig, letting the amber liquid slide down her throat. It burned going down but the buzz that was there afterwards made up for it.

“I never took you for a whiskey girl,” Arthur said, taking another sip of his own.

“I guess it’s one of those nights,” she said, preparing herself to guzzle down the rest.

“So, who’s the bastard who broke your heart this time?” She smirked to herself, knowing Arthur had seen this show before. He was well acquainted with the bad luck that seemed to revolve around her love life. During her years of friendship with Tommy, Arthur would be pulled into the teenage drama that revolved around the duo. He pretended to be annoyed by all the chaos and gossip that accompanied the teens, but she could tell he enjoyed hearing about their lives.

She waved down the bartender, asking for another drink before responding, “Your fucking brother.”

A sigh escaped Arthur’s lips, “What’d the fucker do this time?” he asked. She shook her head to herself as the bartender poured her second drink of the last few minutes.

“He told me he didn’t want to see me anymore,” She took a sip, “He said our friendship didn’t make sense. What the hell does that even mean? It doesn’t have to make sense! It’s not a bloody algebra problem! It’s such bullshit.” She could feel the steam coming out of her ears.

“What a bastard,” Arthur said wistfully, as if there were words between the spaces of that sentence that needed to be said.

“A bastard indeed,” Was her response. She stared straight ahead as Arthur turned to face the younger woman.

“Tommy will kill me if I told you this but,” he gestured to Y/N, “I can’t see you looking that sad. It breaks me heart.” A stifled chuckle escaped her lips, bringing the cup up to her mouth to take another long sip. Everything inside her tried not to look at Arthur because she knew the second she looked into his eyes, she would break.

“What is it?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

A long exhale escaped her friend as he responded, “He misses you like hell, kid.” She impulsively turned toward the man beside her.

“He sure has a shitty way of showing it,” she said, a quiver in her voice.

“Since whatever happened that day on the lake, he hasn’t been himself,” Arthur said, taking a swig of his drink, “He’s been more solemn than he already is and that’s saying a lot. Usually, you’re the one to make him less depressed” A bitter laugh erupted from her as she tried not to roll her eyes.

“So, he didn’t say that he missed me, you just think there’s the possibility that he might miss me.” She watched the way the ice settled in her drink, wishing she could sink.

Arthur shook his head to himself, knowing that he would not convince Y/N, “I know my brother, Y/N. Something went out in him after that day. The only thing I think it could be is you.”

“Well,” she said, putting her drink down on the bar, “if he truly missed me, wouldn’t he have said something rather than push me away?” Arthur cocked an eyebrow at Y/N as she relayed the events of that night.

Arthur finished off his drink before responding, “Tommy is who he is, and whatever is up his ass might just need a bit more time. You know as well as I do how he can be.”

“We’ve never fought for this long, Arthur,” she gazed away from him toward the bottles of liquor behind the bar, “Even as children when he hit me with the baseball, he was at my door within minutes to apologize.” If a child can see the difference between right and wrong that quickly, she could only imagine what an adult would do in that exact situation. To her surprise, she heard a light chuckle leave Arthur’s lips.

“Did he never tell you what actually happened that day?” Arthur questioned. Y/N looked toward him, tilting her head in confusion. “I guess he didn’t. Might as well tell you.” He brushed a hand through his hair before continuing, “That day, he wasn’t going to apologize.” This made her sit up straighter.

“What?” she asked, her whole friendship with Tommy rushing before her eyes.

Arthur smirked and nodded, “He was ready to let you go, that’s how he has always been with everyone. Then I asked him if he was really willing to let you go over a stupid baseball game. I don’t know what it was about that but something clicked and he ran after you. That night when he came back home and I asked how the apology went,” Arthur paused, looking at Y/N, “he smiled and said ‘I think I met my best friend,’” Y/N could feel her heart soften at the end of that story. She knew she felt that way that day but she didn’t know Tommy felt the same. She felt a tear come into her eye and a finger go up to her eye to wipe it away.

“Why are you telling me this story?” she questioned.

“Sometimes, Tommy needs some convincing to realize he is making a shit decision,” Arthur motioned to the bartender to top off his drink, “And I just don’t think anyone has called him on this shit yet. I’d say you will have Tommy back soon.” Arthur’s words along with the alcohol softened Y/N.

“You really think so?” It felt like a plea coming from her lips.

Arthur nodded, “He needs you as much as you need him.” Y/N was ready to hug the older man when she noticed something, the music on the phonograph slowed to a tune she could recall from anywhere. It was The Girl With The Flaxen Hair by Claude Debussy, one of her favorite songs. Arthur saw the change in her expression and smiled at her.

“Care to dance?” he asked, holding a hand out to her. She looked around the room but the bar seemed empty except for the stray patron or two. Perfect.

“I would love to,” she responded as Arthur led her to the center of The Garrison. Her left hand goes into his and her right hand falls onto his shoulder. His left hand gives hers a squeeze and his right hand falls onto her back. She couldn’t help but smile at the man before her. He was the brother she always dreamed of having, tough but loving. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder as the song went on. For the first time in a long time, she was at peace, but that was only momentary. She felt Arthur stiffen as the song came to an end. She looked up at him to see him staring at the entryway. She followed his gaze to see a man she did not expect to see tonight.

“You two look to be having a good time.” Tommy’s voice felt like a dagger, punctuated by the exhale of a cigarette in her direction. Arthur immediately detached himself from Y/N, taking a step away as well. Y/N looked over at Arthur, her eyes pleading for him to say something, anything to make this situation less terrible.

“I’ll give you two some privacy.” That was the last thing she wanted him to say. Before she could interject, Arthur had already made his way into the back of the bar.

Tommy turned to the remaining patrons, “Out. Now.” As if his words were a spell, they followed what he said. Now, they were truly alone. He takes his jacket and hat off, placing them on a table before asking, “What are you doing here?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “It’s a bar and I wanted a drink.”

Tommy let out a sigh, bringing his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and rubbing it, “You know this is my bar.”

She gave him a sarcastic smirk, “I didn’t think you would be coming here tonight, your date seemed like a pretty sure thing.” At that, Tommy approached the bar, opening up the side door to go behind it. He began to pour himself a drink.

“I can at least say I tried.” He mumbled to himself.

“Tried what?” Y/N asked.

“To make you leave.” He puts the bottle down. “Seems I can’t get rid of you.” He throws back the drink.

“Tommy,” she said, approaching the bar, “Why do you want me to leave? Did it ever occur to you that I don’t want to go away?” Tommy didn’t meet her gaze, as he poured another drink.

“I want you to be safe, Y/N.” He put the bottle back on the counter, “You know the way that my life is going, that won’t be possible anymore.”

The alcohol went around her shoulders like a blanket, giving her the confidence to say, “That’s so stupid, Tommy.” A real smile and laugh came out of Tommy. One that she had not seen in six months.

“Now that is not how I expected this conversation to go.” He took another drag of his cigarette, “In all the ways I thought of this talk going, I did not imagine you calling me stupid.”

She giggled to herself, taking a seat on the barstool, “So, you knew we would speak again.”

He leaned against the bar, his face inches from hers, “I told you, I can’t seem to get rid of you and you can’t seem to get rid of me. Maybe that’s just how life is supposed to be, you and me.” Her thoughts began to swim. She wasn’t sure if it was the booze or the fact that Tommy smelled like whiskey and soap. All she knew was that she didn’t want to move away from him. She only moved when the next song came on, one that she remembered well. The movement was a chuckle that turned into a laugh as Tommy followed suit.

“You remember this song?” She asked, motioning toward the phonograph.

He smirked and nodded, “How could I forget?”

The first time that Y/N heard this song was a moment that replayed in her head from time to time. It was a hot August day. She was 16 and Tommy was 17. There was nothing to do that day but lay on the floor of Tommy’s room and listen to music. They stayed side by side for hours as track after track played. Finally, a track with provocative lyrics rose from the phonograph, causing Y/N to giggle and blush. Tommy looked over at her and smirked.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!” she said, shaking her head as if she was trying to shake the blush off her cheeks.

Tommy nudged her shoulder, “Come on, tell me.”

She paused before answering, “I don’t know, the words are just so… raunchy.” The blush came back onto her lips as Tommy let out a belly laugh.

“What? Have you never had a shag?” This caused Y/N to burst out in laughter.

“I haven’t even had my first kiss, let alone slept with a man.” She expected Tommy to laugh along with her but when she looked over at him, he was already sat up, looking down at her.

“Really?” There was a hint of disbelief in his voice.

She sat up and faced him, “Really,” Y/N said. She shrugged to herself, continuing, “I just don’t think anyone wants me in that way.” There was a long pause as Y/N expected Tommy to say something sarcastic but all he did was stare. Y/N matched his gaze.

He then took his best friend's hand, “Don’t say that,” and continued to stare. He took a deep breath before saying, “If you’d like, I can kiss you.” Y/N didn’t know how to respond, all she could do was gaze into her best friend’s eyes. Neither teen knew what to do except let their faces grow closer together. His breath graced her lips, so close. Then the song changed, and so did her mind.

“No, Tommy,” She backed away. “Not like this.” He backed away.

“I understand.” He said with a nod.

“I want it to be with someone I love who loves me back.”

Y/N felt her mind come back to 1913 as she giggled to herself, “Fuck that is what you said!” Tommy said as he took a large sip from his drink.

She shrugged, “I was harsh, it might be why I didn’t have my first kiss for another year.”

“I remember that,” Tommy said, sitting beside her at the bar, “George Milton, right?”

She nodded, “By the bridge. He bit my lip and it bled.” Tommy let out a snicker. A comfortable silence fell over the two old friends. Tommy was the first to break it.

“So, why did you say no.” She looked up into his blue eyes to see a sense of curiosity there.

“I told you, my sixteen year old self wanted it to be with someone she loved,” Y/N took a sip of her whiskey before continuing, “She wanted magic and delusion. Still haven’t found that yet.” James crossed her mind for a fleeting second and left as quickly as he came. Tommy’s gaze did not leave hers, watching how the words stayed in her mind. Then the song changed again. The tune was a waltz, one that made a smile come onto Y/N's face.

Tommy held out his hand, “Arthur can’t be the only one dancing with you tonight.” Y/N gave Tommy her hand as he led her out to where she and Arthur danced earlier. Their hands found their homes on each other's bodies easily as the couple began to sway to the tune. Y/N looked up into Tommy’s blue eyes and he gazed down into hers. His hand relaxed on the small of her back, sliding down and pulling her closer. She laid her head on his chest feeling his heartbeat against her cheek. She moved her arm behind him, holding him tight. The pair swayed as Tommy laid his head on top of hers.

“Y/N?” She moved her head off his chest to look up at him, “You’re not delusional. You just want what you deserve.” That was when she felt her lips begin to grace his. As soon as they touched, Tommy backed away.

The pair stopped and pulled apart.

“I have to go,” Tommy said. Before Y/N could question him, he was out the door.

Next chapter

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tarjapearce · 8 months

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Bad Teachings (Pt. 8)

Older!Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: Slow Burn, Relationship Building, Mild squeeze of jealousy, daily snippets of life, strained parental relationship, gossips, awkward truths, friendly bickering, a little instrospection on main characters.

Summary: Rekindling things lead to new and unexpected discoveries.

Absolute thanks to my beta reader <;3 @oharasmommymilkers00

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated c: Masterlist Pt. 9

"So, how's it going? When did you return?"

Manicured hands clasped together, inviting Simon to keep talking. After your little impromptu reunion, you had texted him the next day, and between little jokes and mild flirting, Simon asked you on a date.

Let's catch up and see where it goes.

He had stayed the same since college. Ever straightforward and head-on with his words.

Even though the small restaurant bustled with people, you could still hear each other.

"Been alright. I was back a couple of weeks ago. I have been wandering the city to see any changes, but nah. The same. Can't say the same about you."

Your eyebrow arched at his words, which he quickly tried to explain.

"Not in a bad way! I swear! It just... took me by surprise seeing you so different. All I can remember is you wearing hoodies, jeans, or sweatpants."

Chuckling, you took a sip of your drink and pursed your lips.

"Had to get my glow up one way or another."

"What I'm trying to say is that you look fantastic."

"Thank you, Si. You look great as well."

And he did. Both of you had changed for the better. He used to be that average exchange student that was more remarkable for people making fun of his accent between lighthearted jokes and a bit of a chubber.

Simon was tall, but if it came to compare heights, he'd reach Miguel by the shoulders. He had to crane his neck up to meet his eyes. And now that he had been gone for nearly three years to pursue his dream of finishing his career abroad, he had changed physically.

Earning looks from the people as he walked by. He was handsome. But the goofiness and soft-spoken person he was remained the same.

Your glasses clinked as both of you enjoyed the talk.

His eyes remained fixed on your face with a guilty smile "I am sorry, though. For leaving so suddenly."

Your eyes widened softly at his words but quickly dismissed them.

"Are you kidding me? I would've done the same if I had a chance to study abroad with a scholarship, too. Don't feel guilty about it."

"I want to make things right and avoid any misunderstanding between us. Or for you to think I escaped from you."

You couldn't help but laugh and cover your mouth to tone it down.

"You say so like it was so bad and toxic!"

It was his turn to giggle.

"It was."

You gasped as he laughed while taking your hand.

"I'm joking, of course. I had fun those four months."

"Even though we barely had time in between classes?"

"Yes. I was so glad when we had to take that class together with... Miss Lyla, I think?"

"Oh! Office Automation. Yeah. Man, she was such a good teacher."

"She was unhinged."

You had to hold back an ugly snort as your cheeks reddened in laughter.

"She was. But I owe my job to her and Mi-... Mr. O'Hara." You swallowed, "That's what I do daily."

"I'm surprised you know Mr. O'Hara after all these years."

You've got no idea.

Your brow quirked nervously, and he leaned in towards you.

"Like, I heard so much about him back then, but I didn't know who he was, and when he introduced himself when I found you, it clicked. Didn't know he was that guy."

"That guy? What do you mean?"

Simon cleared his throat.

"I know this is an old story, but a couple of days before my dropout, I heard Miss Lyla and him were hooking up."

You blinked as little waves of confusion washed over you at this information. Even though Miguel had told you about his little affairs here and there, you didn't expect it to be with one of your favorite teachers.

"The things you learn. Like for real?"

"Yeah. I mean, both hooked a couple of times before he called it off, but don't believe me. The source was a girl that had a massive crush on him."

A little glint in your eyes shone as he mentioned Miguel stopping it.

"It makes so much sense now! She was one of the few teachers, along with Mrs. Drew, that you could see him being comfortable around enough to be more talkative."

You spoke, and he shrugged.

"I wouldn't know for real. I quit before the semester ended, and I never took classes with him remember? But damn, gossip was a thing."

"He was brutal."

"Oh, I bet. Mr. O’Hara looks quite intimidating. You passed?."

You laughed humorlessly

"I nearly fail. But I pushed through. He was demanding, but yeah."

"Right. College aside, are you still... y'know, living with your parents?"

"Oh no, no. I moved out. Mostly to be near my job."

"Great. I just moved in with my roommate as well. Nice guy, gives me his leftover pizza."

Both giggled and mocked at the silliness of the situation. It brought you back to times when you'd be holed up in the library, either talking or sharing quick kisses between studying sessions when you had the time to do so.

But right now, catching up with him felt good. Your social circle expanded in baby steps, which made you feel like a blooming social butterfly.

Simon's hand took yours to squeeze it softly with a charming smile.

"Wanna go for a walk?"

"Sure."

---

As days went by, your work grew more interesting. The new Bossman, Julius, was strict enough to make most of your coworkers work for real.

You had a couple of photoshoots redone since his eyes were as critical as his mouth. But you had not only learned. But apply those tricks to your arts and hobbies.

The knitting had improved despite the need to buy more supplies soon, but finally, you got the garter stitch right. And as predictable as it was, you'd get started with a scarf. So far, it looked decent, and the wools Hobie sold you seemed perfect for the task.

As you created a mental note to tell Hobie to save you some colors in your next paycheck your phone buzzed. Miguel's name on your screen gave your chest a little irregular thump upon remembering the conversation with Simon. It seemed like the perfect timing.

"Huh-lo?"

You could hear him laughing on the other line

"It's Aló, not huh-lo."

"I'm trying!"

He chuckled "Try harder 'cause that was awful."

"Teach me then." You rolled your eyes, and there was a silence as he gulped involuntarily.

"Are you sure?"

"You were already a teacher, so yeah. You want me to understand it, right? Then teach me."

His grip on his phone tightened as he sighed, asking for strength from the heavens.

"I will. Promise."

"Good. Anyways, is everything ok?"

There was a slight shuffling on his side of the call before the sound of a dragged chair made you scrunch your nose at the sudden noise.

"Yeah. Sorry for that, deep cleaning day."

"Oh? Cool. Want me to make you a Playlist for your cleaning days?"

His rich, deep laugh sent you chuckling, and your skin crawled.

"No, thanks. Though, music is a good way to start learning a language."

"Aye, sir. Any artist you recommend?"

He chuckled

"Might do get you a playlist for simple things. It's a good start."

"Why, thank you. Mr. O'Hara."

He groaned in annoyance, and you giggled. If you’d had any idea of how much he hated when you called him like that, he was sure you’d stop. Even if it was just to annoy him. It made him feel old.

"I appreciate it though. I always wanted to learn another language."

"How's the French going?"

It was your turn to groan. A 'How's Simon doing' would be the most accurate translation of it.

"Not so good. My tongue gets twisted. Might do ask Simon directly as well."

There was more shuffling on your line as you got the Bluetooth earbuds and linked them to continue your closet and makeup cleaning as you were on the call.

The silence stretched for a solid minute until you spoke again.

"Hello? Are you still there?

"Yeah, I was getting some coffee."

His tone was soft.

"Jesus, stop drinking that much coffee." You shook your head with a disapproving look you were sure he’d just laugh off. "Anyways, I wanna ask you something. And I need you to be honest."

"Why do I feel you're about to ask something ridiculous or unhinged?"

You laughed

"Up to you to decide if it is. Did you hook up with Miss Lyla?"

He burned his tongue at your sudden question with the coffee, truly surprised you’d ask such things.

"Oh... That." He cleared his throat, "I did. Just twice, though. Why?"

Your eyes widened as your mouth clammed up for a moment. As uncomfortable as it was, Miguel didn’t lie. After all, he had told you about these things in your first outing together.

"Was it before... or after me?"

Clearly. you remembered the conversation like a lucid dream.

Desperate times.

"Before. Why are we discussing this? More importantly, who told you this?"

You swallowed and sighed. His voice was a bit on the edge.

"Old stories I recently heard. And Simon did. Our date was full of old stories. I'm so glad he didn't take classes with you."

His eyes drooped in boredom upon you saying the word date. Of course, you’d have a date with him. It was natural to return to what one knew. He thought you were less naive than that but would watch it unfold from afar. He’d never miss a chance to say “I told you so”.

The satisfaction of being right about his intuition was a pleasure he enjoyed terribly.

"Bien pinche chismoso" (Such a freaking tattletale)

He grumbled after taking a sip of his bitter coffee

"Uh, what?"

"Nothing. I assume you dated him?"

You threw a couple of old eyeshadow palettes in the trash.

"Yeah, just for four months before he went back to France to finish his career there."

"How cute.”

“You’re just being mean. Don’t you trust my judgment?”

“ I don't trust Simon."

You laughed again, but his face remained serious

"Ah, C'mon. Why?"

"I was young too, guapa. Guys his age are up to no good."

You folded a couple of skirts as your lips pouted.

"I appreciate your concern regarding this. But seriously, Simon hasn't changed that much. He's the same goofy ass from college days."

He scoffed nonchalantly "Are you sure of it? People change. And sometimes is not precisely for the good."

You smiled at his words.

"Well, thanks for the support. Means alot. But I'll be fine."

You heard him sigh

"Right."

"And you're not that old."

He snorted as he put the half cup of coffee on the table

"I'm forty-two, guapa. I say I'm old enough to have my fair share of life wisdom. And that guy is certainly hiding something."

"I'm not arguing against that. You look like you have gone through a bit more stuff."

"Are you calling me a mess?"

Again, you laughed. The sound made him smile.

"My my, so sensitive!. I say you look mature enough. Even though I know maturity isn't linked directly with age, your way of carrying yourself about things makes you a reliable and trustworthy friend. I like that."

His eyes widened a bit at your words

"Didn't know you were into older guys."

"Yup. I mean, you guys know what you want. Or at least most of you do. And that's good cause I don't like teaching younger people what they want. I'm not a rehab center." Your lips pursed, "I like learning."

He gulped and wet his lips with his tongue.

"But yeah, anyways, thanks for calling. Always good to hear you."

"Likewise, guapa. Take care.""Bye, Miguel."

The call ended, and you smiled. Miguel on the other hand, rubbed his face as he pondered at your words.

You liked learning. That was certain. Either academically or in life. But you did. And he liked that too.

-----

— Hello Sweetheart

Dad's number had popped out on your screen, but Hobie's rambling snapped his attention back to you.

You returned home from work a couple of hours early and Mrs. Brown invited you over for a cup of tea.

The apartment smelled like a mix of spices and herbs, along with a touch of vanilla cigarettes. The apartment had two bedrooms, the kitchen was bigger than yours just like the living room area.

Your apartment was the smallest on the floor. Everyone had a two or three-bedroom lease, but for you, a one-bedroom accommodated just fine.

Mrs. Brown was gentle but didn't doubt voicing her concerns and opinions with such delicacy and refinement one would think she'd be complimenting you. No wonder Hobie or Hobart, a little giggle from you when she called him that when he arrived from work carried himself the way he did.

She was supportive and loving. The only authority I wouldn't rebel against said the tattoo artist as you accompanied him into getting his weekly grocery shopping.

His van had been in repair, and now he wasn't sure if he’d get any news anytime soon.

Hey, Dad. How are you? —

Hobie took a look at your piercings and approved your current care. You had also told him about the wools, even paid him ahead, which he used to pay for the groceries.

—Missing you, darling. Are you alright?

The question had you smiling softly. He was always so caring and worried about you. When you first told him you'd move out, he was glad. Congratulated you even, au contraire of your mom who started complaining almost immediately.

"Birdie?"

"Hm?

Your eyes left your phone screen to look at him.

"You good? Kinda spaced out there."

You nodded.

"Yeah, just talking with my dad."

"They want you to visit?"

You nodded with an annoyed groan.

Not that you disliked your parents. Their relationship with you was strained as it was.

"Hard upbringing?"

"More like... Not really there- sort of upbringing."

Hobie put the groceries in the back seat of your Cooper and sat on the passenger seat.

"Yikes."

You shrugged. Not dwelling on the past trauma wound that remained ever fresh. You drove back to the apartment building.

"Sorry to hear that. Seems like people have kids to fill their inner voids."

"Right?! But man, saying that out loud is sure a social death sentence."

"Hypocrisy at its finest. Society is always changing, most of the time is never for good reasons."

You nodded but snorted softly.

"Whut?"

"Nothing, It's funny when we talk like phylosophers on weed."

Hobie chuckled and relaxed into his seat.

"You know? I owe you an apology."

"Whatever for?"

You stopped at a red light and looked at him.

"My mother... she said some comments I didn't like when she came up for a visit a couple of days ago."

"And why do you apologize on her behalf?"

I'm good. A bit busy with work as usual, but I was planning on calling you—

"No, I apologize 'cause it wasn't nice."

You mumbled as you typed in your screen.

"Why are you assuming other's wrongdoings as yours? And in all honesty, I couldn't care less what people think of me. Specially corporate slaves."

The light turned green and you drove again.

"I don't know. Just..."

"Apologize when you are the one at fault, birdie. The rest is irrelevant. Thanks for the warning tho’."

—Yeah, your mom told me that you still have things packed up and that you're not ready yet to live alone.

—Wanna talk about it?

If only his passiveness wouldn't be so dragging to the point of always ending up siding with your mother in little matters that only added more weight to the already full bag of terribly handled emotions. He'd be your favorite.

You parked in the building and helped Hobie to carry the shops. Mrs. Brown made you both a delicious English breakfast for dinner. They didn't believe in consistency, if Mrs. Brown wanted something, she made it. And her cooking was good, especially in the pudding making.

You hadn't looked at the screen yet, so blissfully ignorant to not care for a bit.

Hobie then kept boasting about how it was bad for people to keep assuming other's fault. He told his mom about it, and she just agreed. They had this strong bond you had stopped longing for a long time ago. It was easier for you to see smells and taste colors than to keep a healthy relationship with your parents.

—Honey?

But of course, you dreaded so many things. Even though the upbringing seemed the perfect chance to toughen your mind, angry confrontations weren't your thing. Cause in a hypothetical perfect world, everyone is emotionally intelligent enough to know how to express and regulate their feelings.

But neither the world nor your life were perfect.

You went to your apartment and finally took a look at the messages. Anger boiled in your head, and as usual, you'd have to explain yourself.

You were tired of it.

I would appreciate it if you'd stop believing everything Mom says.

The message was clear, but you deleted it last second as you snapped a quick video and sent it to him instead.

Do you see any boxes on the floor? —

It sounded way too curt and petty than you intended to, but maybe that way he'd start getting his criterion in check.

—No, I'm sorry. When are you coming for a visit?

When you stop taking sides

Again, the message was deleted. Being passive-aggressive with them wouldn't help either. Sighing, you typed once more.

Next weekend, but I will stay Saturday night only. I use Sundays for prepping for the week :) —

Not even Judas was so disingenuous as that emoji at the end.

—Oh gotcha, gotcha. Still, would be wonderful to have you over.

Please don't tell Mom. I want it to be a surprise. —

More like, I don't want her to be all nagging and harassing my inbox with her pretentious texts.

Your mind chanted

—Of course. Love you

Hopefully, she will be out on a business trip and you'll be enjoying with your dad.

Love you too, dad —

It was going to be draining and difficult. But you’d push through. You always did.

You had to.

-----

Taglist:

@jkthinkstoomuch @queenofroses22 @katitakenway @amylasagna @rositabluemoon @lyrasdrawer @plumplumpurin @damhanallagorm @chibiiichann @incustellar @taeecups @vonev @kinkybandages @ittybxttykxttytxtty @del-ightfulling @tatatida

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #t writes✨#bad teachings

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mimiriko · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐘 | 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

notes :: established relationship. 2.4k. fem!reader.

summary :: it’s slow progress making people realize their explosive hero is more than that, more than shallow waters of anger. you wonder faintly if it’s intentional turning a blind eye at the love cracking from his hands, bleeding into you so openly. all it took for the world to change is him carrying you bridal-style.

Sometimes you think about people, and how easy they judge. Sometimes, you think the surface layer is faux and the sea beds contain the real treasure. But to put on a suit and take a deep breath: from your mouth and hold it in your throat, venture down until your ears ring, is too much. Skimming the pretty waters from above is enough.

Living amongst dreamers will never become better, walking beside the theorists and talking to the audacious never gets lighter to bare. To conure stories of the wonders and horrors underneath, cajoling you into saying anything that will prove their words, imprint fact on their gossip. You're the first and only one with a diving suit after all.

"Is he coming?"

The smile clipped on your face is straining. "Any moment, he's just parking."

"It's almost been six months together, right?" she continues, giggling unkindly and sipping her fruity drink. "Who would've thought."

It's a shame: her polite guise from afar drove you to her side, a nook of safety from the overwhelming dance floor, but her mouth opened just like the rest. 'Who would've thought?' You scoff, scanning for the familiar blond peaks of hair.

Don't flare up; you're gonna leave soon anyway.

"Yo."

Thank god.

"Hey, Kats," you're glued to his side in a second. The mercurial energy around the girl— her name already went out of one ear, ever since she recognized you from the papers —switches into something else. Sycophant. Harsh for your tongue, but her fluttering lashes at your lover is boiling your temperament with rage. Raw, as strong as it's been since the first day. The first day Katsuki made it known he was yours.

(It wasn't a fleeting comment on your relationship, no Sorry, I've got a girlfriend to fans, it was even before any dispatch got ahold of your pictures. It was in his first interview. Where he looked the camera dead in its lens and flayed himself open, I'm taken. )

"Hi, Dynamight," she says, breathless.

"Hello. I'll be leavin' now. Enjoy your night."

You spluttered, catching yourself before fully launching a laugh in her face, and turned to the front door with his arm hanging off your shoulders.

You notice the tension in his face and frame easing off, the rough edges around his eyes slanting, sculpting into a rounder, softer look.

No one sees the hand that holds the door for you, they just see your warmth embracing the man.

—

Your legs burn. Diverging from the joint of your knees, paralysing nerves till your toes and sending needles up your abdomen. Harsh fluorescent lights blind your vision in spots, and you're stuck with blinking them away vainly as you scan the store aisle. You look worn out, from the creases in your hoodie to the shine of sweat on your face, and you feel exactly that. Rung dry from the day, barbed heart and pounding head.

Nimbly, you slot a packet of pads in your armpit and make a beeline for some food. Something warm for your sore throat, maybe some sweet potatoes if they're still on the charcoal at this time. Or you could snag any bento box and frozen gyoza left and heat it for you and Katsuki. It’ll be futile considering he’ll have to deviate from his meal plan, but you’re sure he won’t mind you indulging.

A hand on your shoulder startles you, “Wha—“

You blink. Speak of the devil. “Kat.”

Dressed in his spare outfit he wears after patrol, the one that smells like a men's locker room, Katsuki stretches his hand to you, holding a basket full of your cravings. "Knew you'd be here," he says plainly.

Dumbfounded, you take the basket. Your eyes catch your favourite rice cakes, drinks, chips and frozen gyoza. Around the handle your fingers tremble, and you shyly tuck your chin and move closer to him. A surge of protectiveness overtakes him, and he tenderly holds your head with his calloused hands, bringing you to his chest.

Walking towards the cashier with his heartbeat as your melody, a sharp ring from his phone cuts the air and divides his attention. He fails to feel your arm shooting towards a coffee drink left out, securing a pack of chilly ramen along the way. Your hands slink the items at the counter, and his copper eyes burn your downturned face resting now on his bicep. He was Dynamight on the phone right now, and could not break out of it.

Bag in your grasp, the moon offered her light on the walk home, lighting the concrete silver. Shades of black detail his build and his hair looks as if it’s crowned by stars—you can't help but stare.

Silence caved once Katsuki finished the call, savouring the tranquillity the night brings in comparison to the hustle of the day.

Quietly, pensively, your hand lowered into the bag, floundering for the shape of a can. Your fingers spread like cobwebs until they wrapped themselves around the item. In an attempt to be smooth, you lift it in one motion, and a defining chorus of crinkles of plastic echoed.

You sweat.

He sucks in a breath. "Y/n,” he growls, "you know caffeine isn't fucking good for your cramps."

"I know," you reply helplessly, "but-"

"And it's almost midnight!" He takes the can, swatting your hands away.

You whine with no real vexation, like a sated child denied extra candy. Bouncing on your heel, tugging him by his collar, reaching for his arm that went in the air above your reach, or when he stoops down and you have to crouch to even skim your fingers on the metal.

"You wont get anywhere with this." He smirks despite the mask of indignation: lips stretched lopsidedly, utterly charming and handsome. Your own lips tingle, buzzing with a want to kiss him silly. Even if you're in public at nighttime, even if the shadows cloak you—the memory of a glossy lens, cold glass shielding an all-knowing eye, renders you to keep your love for home.

But like an oasis in a desert, a novel feeling mixes in your head. Glistening with temptation under the heat and surrounded by hot sand, beckoning you to bring its poison down your gullet.

It's just you and him. The night was waning, and your heart loosened with it. It's just you and him.

Giddy, you shoot a grin, killing him softly. And then you spring up, startling him. Your lips meet with excitement, mirroring two puppies. Eager, trusting, vulnerable.

Incrementally, you deliver another peck. And another. Until a warm hand takes shelter in your hair, bunching it up and using it to angle you better. A swift kick to his calf jolts him. "The fuck?"

A curse never sounded so breathless. "Give my coffee back you piece of shit. You'd think your lover would be a little nicer when you're on your fucking period.”

"Oh yeah? Maybe your lover just doesn't wanna be a victim to your fucking tossing and turning at night because of your cramps."

Wrestling him is useless, not when his muscles faintly show themselves under his hoodie all hard and wired, but you try anyway. You continue until he's heedless to his own laugh, a rosy tint spread on his bunched up cheeks. You can feel the wind of it on your face.

But the world zooms out of focus, expanding from your happy alcove far too soon.

Beneath a street lamp on the lane you just entered stood a group of people. Back from an outing, judging by the glimmer and cat-eye's, adding depth to the stare they've held on you. Heads drawn like a shark to the scent of blood.

Katsuki fluidly untangles from your limbs, but his jaw is more rigged, his eyes are cast off a bit too far, and the hand on your waist hovers lightly. Touching the fabric of your shirt more than yourself.

Your heart sinks as you pass by, only a narrow road between you but it feels like oceans. A ship travelling the opposite direction and passing by your route, whispers flicking at your ears like sea-foam and cannons angled towards you.

(The main fear that resides in your chest, claws sharp digging at your bones, is what they can say about Katsuki. Ruin him overnight, transforming the gentle hands around your waist to ones with an intent to hurt, to harm. Off of no basis—only his explosive character.

However you are nothing but an open heart to him; he knows your fears like they're his own, and he makes sure everything is behind sealed doors.)

The bag full of food becomes invisible, but the coffee in his hand away from you is in the spotlight.

—

You feel as if you’re in an inchoate dream.

Skipping stones between life and a hazy alternate universe; the low thrum of the car brings an illusion of a soft lullaby, coaxing you into letting go and float somewhere above clouds.

If it hadn’t been for the hand on your thigh stroking in gentle motions, you would not have made it this far. If it hadn’t been for Katsuki sitting beside you, powering you through all the preparations, your first official public appearance would’ve been a calamity.

The car slowly rolls to a stop in front of a red carpet, sleek and ever so daunting, and the chauffeur makes his way to your door before Katsuki stops him with a hand.

Dressed smartly in a mulberry tux, tailored fabric and fitted waistcoat leaving nothing to the imagination, he turns towards you, as if approaching a trembling animal, and waits. Your eyes felt as if they’ve been covered by a veil, barely outlining his face painting only patience towards you. The world’s chaos outside reached your ears through a blanket of water, and your own matching mulberry dress clung uncomfortably to your skin.

He extends his fingertip, brushing your knuckle, and you blink owlishly at him. Trailing further to your wrist, he takes your hand and places it on his lap.

Your throat unstuck itself suddenly, just by a touch.

He tugs towards the door, looking at you for permission—and with a nod, you give it to him.

The rest is lost in bliss and buzz of fame. A dizzying dissonance of memories but all linked with happiness. You are here. You are alive and well.

And with Katsuki, you can finally turn to a camera and give a smile. A big, beautiful smile that leaves your eyes in sparkling crescents. A smile no serpent could look away from.

But there’s a limit to the sky, and being weightless only feels so great until you miss the drag of gravity. Your fingers tug Katsuki’s tie askew in the after-party, and one eyebrow rose in response. He studied you, posture needle straight which he knew was forced, and put his drink down on a nearby table. “Want to switch your heels with my shoes? Your feet are probably red as hell.”

Your chest warmed with the question. “‘m good.”

The ruckus you stood in was at the back of a building, floors down and a lengthy walk from the line of cars awaiting for their respective hero’s. You nod at friends while you make your way to the entrance—Izuku, Kiri, Mina—and smile back at their lovers.

You forgot Katsuki’s words have a habit of becoming law though, no matter the circumstance. A soft pinch of your heel strap takes your attention, and it continues until it starts to scrape. You’re slow to feel the tender flesh of your soles, the press of material at your toes. Glossy lips become a chew toy to suppress your agitation because you were just fine ten minutes ago.

It’s fine, there’s not much longer to go. It doesn’t matter if you can see from your peripheral vision Katsuki’s tantalizing face.

"The earth won't collapse if we switch shoes y'know."

"It's not that long of a walk," you grumbled, "quit it."

If the stars weren't spilled into the night sky, if the sun replaced the moon and the familiar goosebumps of cameras returned, you would have let him wear your heels. The media would greedily devour the intimacy, the acts of service, and boost Katsuki's name with praise not flames.

But underneath the high ceilings and dimly illuminated hallways, with only tinted windows to know of your love, there's no point.

The word stubborn breezes past your ears, and you turn your head at him curiously, before your world is rocked sideways like a glass knocked off a table.

Yet the arms that were the source of your fall did not let you hit the ground, that wasn't the purpose at all, but instead lifted you and stole a yelp from your lungs. Cradling you bridal-style, feet dangling off his arms.

All you did— could do, courtesy to the iron grip on your body, was stare at him. At his eyes fixed forward—defiant, stubborn, handsome. You wonder if your weight matters to him at all if he could steal you from the ground mid-stride.

And you have half a mind to castigate him for it, because it was fundamentally cruel. Unfair. Unjust for him to blend your heart like this.

"You better put me down before someone sees,” You stress.

"Y'see anyone here, sugar?"

"Once you get to the front door there will be! I'm not playing Kat."

"Neither am I.” he says, before jostling you around with dilute vigour, with you whisper-screaming to knock it off. Another flight of stairs and a revolving door, and you'll be at the eye of the public again. Like entering a relic.

The idea of lowering your head, clinging to Katsuki and praying the shutters of white light would freeze in time, was unbearable. Not when you felt encapsulated in a fairytale tonight. How had you lived before?

Because you weren't. A mere skull filled with blackened thoughts. It felt like removing the stitches off a wound, staining the marred skin red and jumping back in.

You were getting closer, nearer to the front doors.

In that instant, a new feeling blistered.

You brace yourself with a smile. "We're going to make a scene, aren't we?"

The halting bold look on his face transmutes into confusion—then true courage takes over.

The uproar of paparazzi and the internet the next few days rival each other. A sight one would think is so rare there wasn't a chance of it existing at all, served on a silver plate. Ares holding an Angel.

One thing in particular which truly lit the public into a spiralling inferno, was spotted by a fan. Trained eyes from a bedroom catching a private moment, between the intervals of blinding light at Katsuki's walking figure.

@makingmagic :: Doesn't Dynamight look like he's whispering "darling"?

#🪐#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader

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mxaether · 1 month

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MITCH MARNER -VS- TORONTO MEDIA/TORONTO FANS/HIMSELF/EVERYONE (a playlist for when you love a thing so much, and it bites you)

track list and selected lyrics for each under the cut ❤️

1. I Want You So Bad I Can't Breathe - OK GO i want you, yeah, i want you/ i want you, yeah, i want you bad/ so bad i can't think straight/ so bad all my bones shake / so bad i can't breathe 2. Careful What You Wish For (the doctor said to) - Jack Harris something is missing/this predisposition/i feel like i'm living inside of my head 3. Who Made You A Monster? - Hael tricking the world to trust you/but everything that you say/is some kind of sordid lie/who taught you how to lie so well? 4. GOSSIP - Maneskin, Tom Morello welcome to the city of lies/where everything's got a price/gonna be your favourite place -- so sip the gossip, drink till you choke/sip the gossip, burn down your throat 5. Don't Be Nice - Watsky false modesty is a guilty habit/some people simply have it/but the fact is i would not have spent a decade doing this/if i did not believe i was at least a tiny bit ridiculously filthy at it 6. JEKYLL & HIDE - Bishop Briggs sweet and then you're sour/changes by the hour/never know which one i'll taste 7. End of It - Friday Pilots Club it's cruel you know/the way they've been treating you lately/get you real messed up on the daily 8. Nowhere Kid - Des Rocs inside of a maze you hide away/where nobody cares who you are/caught in a lie you can't escape 9. All For Us - Labrinth, Zendaya guess you figured my two times two/always equates to one/dreamers are selfish -- i'm taking it all for us, all/doing it all for love 10. Cruel Devotion - Night Club do you want me? tell me true/on my knees and now i'm begging you/loving you is such a cruel devotion 11. Who Are You, Really? - Mikky Ekko i have nothing left to prove/cause i have nothing left to lose/see me bare my teeth for you/who, who are you? 12. Heartbreak Feels So Good - Fall Out Boy is there a word for a bad miracle?/nobody said the road was endless/nobody said the climb was friendless 13. Some People - Dan Mangan cause it's too easy to be righteous when you eat what you've been fed/some people don't question what they've read/some people should 14. SELF-SABOTAGE - Waterparks i'll self sabotage/if you like when we talk i'll dislocate my jaw/what the fuck is wrong with me 15. Matches - Huxlxy bring me the ashes/set me alight/i'd rather burn than say goodbye 16. SICK - Chandler Leighton never let anyone see your guard down/too proud, just stop, keep my frozen/iced out, i'm six feet underground 17. Black Wave - K. Flay shaking in my own cage/what do i believe? i believe/waiting on a black wave/living under bad days 18. Middle Finger - Bohnes you show me love and then spit in my face/making your money off all of my pain 19. still feel. - half-alive when i'm furthest from myself/feeling closer to the stars/i've been invaded by the dark/trying to recognize myself when i feel i've been replaced 20. Rather Die - Barns Courtney i came to kill 'em, now i'm/wipin' the spit from my eyes/i take a beating but i/i'll never give up 21. Lake Effect Kid - Fall Out Boy oh i've got the skyline in my veins, forget your night time/sumer love on a gurney with a squeaky wheel/and joke us, joke us til Lakeshore Drive comes back into focus/i just wanna come back to life 22. Stronger - Kanye West n-now-now that, that don't kill me/can only make my stronger -- do anybody make real shit anymore?/bow in the presence of greatness/cause right now thou hast forsaken us 23. Bulletproof - La Roux, GAMPER & DADONI i won't let you turn around/and tell me now i'm much too proud/all you do is fill me up with doubt/this time, baby, i'll be bulletproof 24. What Do You Want - Nico Vega you can go ahead and hate me/for bringing in news, but you could still choose/ain't going to be a party/but you turn it all down, down, down/say, what do you want?/what do you want from me? 25. I'm Gonna Win - Rob Cantor you've seen me before, you'll see me again 26. Hero - Martin Harrix, JVKE

a thousand voices whisper noise/they plan my fall from grace/whoa-oh, i know/you say you want a hero, you don’t

#mitch marner #mm16 #playlist #my art #i guess #kind of #leafsblr #i had a lot of feelings after game 4

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estjbeaver · 2 years

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𝑼𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑭𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓

[Tamaki Keigo]

[NSFW]

[SPOILERS AHEAD]

Reblog | Comment | Enjoy, ig

Warning! Spoilers. Slow burn. Drunken sex. Breeding sex. Desperate sex. Forgetful sex. Loveless sex. No strings attached. Plot sex. Strangers to Lovers Sex

"T-This just in..."

You were seated in your usual spot at your usual bar, subtly listening intently at what the reporter had to say.

"T-This- I can't believe- "

She kept on stuttering over her own words. It annoyed you at first, but then you realized that gasps and sobs joined the baffled reporter. Curiosity had you looking up at the screen.

"I-" she cleared her throat. "This just in. Pro Hero Hawks seems to be having a struggle fighting against League of Villains member: Dabi. The blue flames make it hard to see b- but we should only hope for the- ah!"

The reported was attacked and the camera went all fuzzy. More people in the bar started whispering and gossiping; overall worrying about their safety. Many left while others tried to drown their sorrows away with alcohol. You just sat there, finishing your drink, looking up at the fuzzing tv.

Life never was something to brag about to you. Your quirk had gotten you exactly where your parents wanted you to be. You were a graduate of medical school, supported by your Regeneration quirk. Basically, you rebuilt lost or damaged DNA.

Later that night you walked alone in the streets of rubble, shit and death. Some newbie heroes took care of the job, though it lasted hours. Hawks ended up in the hospital, wings joined in the rusty evening sky as nothing more than ashes. You'd met him before and rather enjoyed his "company". Met at the bar, a few drinks in, then woke up entangled with feathers and sheets.

A shame, really, to see such potential burn in the flames of his rival. Fuck you, she scolded Dabi for being such a dickhead.

Time skip. He was discharged about two days ago, the fight being something of the past. Weeks were wasted in the hospital where the constant reminder of his disappointment haunted him. He was told to take things easy but being sober was forcing him to nearly lose his sanity. He left for a bar. A bar he hadn't visited in quite some time, and he wasn't sure why.

Everywhere he walked people would gawk and stare. Some would even try to encourage him, but that always ruined his day even more. People pitied him now. A hero, who was supposed to save them.

Wearing a face mask and cap he took a seat at the far back. He asked for something strong and patiently waited.

"Everyone's fucking stupid," he heard you say from behind him, seated at your usual booth. At first, he didn't think you were talking to him. "Either people or blind, or luck is finally on your side." You took a sip. He glanced through the corner of his eyes, but still couldn't see you.

"What now? You gon pity me or some shit? Call me out for being such a fucking disappointment?"

"Why would I do that?" He turned his head over his shoulder and looked directly at the back of your head. "You did more than what I ever could've."

"Yet I still failed." You scoffed and downed your drink, the notified waiter refilling it within moments. "Something funny?"

"Just you thinking you're so special," you could feel him lifting his brows and twisted your head to look at him. Your arm rested atop the booths. Both your faces were really close.

"I'm not-"

"But you are," you swallowed more comfort-juice.

"I'm not-"

"But you are," he stayed quiet to avoid irritation. "Stop thinking you're so special just because some villain whooped your ass. Life happens and there's nothing you can do about it... except laugh it off and call out: 'Fuck you too'," his eyes softened after a moment's worth of pondering. Then he started to chuckle amusingly.

"Have we met?" He then asked, voice a mixture of pure depression and pure delight.

You shrugged. "You've had many, but I'm a lucky bitch who was railed by the Pro Hero Hawks." A seductive grin grinned and he lifted a brow. Your glass rested on your bottom lip and daring eyes looked up at him. "Guess you were just having a shitty day and needed some therapy."

He reached for his own drink and downed the burning liquid. "Guess you pop up exactly when I need you most, huh." You snickered and placed your empty glass down.

"Are you saying you're having a bad day?" Fuck, you were being a slut. Your finger traced circles on his shoulder, ignoring the threatening glare he sent your way. "Maybe you need some therapy."

You looked at him. Fuck, you looked at him.

And that's how you ended up under him, begging for more and pleading for him to stop. Hands clawing at his back as his mouth sucked, bit, gnawed, and kissed away at your body.

Both naked. Both steaming hot. Both already dripping with sweat. Both horny as life itself. Where exactly? He said it was his place, but you didn't quite remember it being as such. Didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Nothing mattered other than his slick fucking fingers stretching you out mercilessly. Your hands gripped at his hair and pulled, groans and moans syncing sexually. He added his thumb to rub your clit. Your back arched and a string of curses cursed their way out your mouth. The common stranger would never take you for being so verbal.

And you weren't. Unless it was a frustrated, animalistic horny beast busy railing you into the fucking ground. You came all over his hand, his fingers dripping soaking wet with the evidence you proved of being ready. He did that. He made you feel so good your body erupted with sensational orgasm.

"I think- I'm starting- to remember you," he spoke between sloppy kisses, ignoring his desperation for air. You kept on kissing him back.

"How so?"

He pulled away and flipped you over, forcing you into doggy style. He took a moment; a painfully short moment, just to take all of you in. "Who the fuck wouldn't remember something as incredible as you?"

Your head dropped with a childish grin. Big, rough hands tightly gripped your sides. Your heartbeat beat faster and faster at the anticipating expectation of him filling you up. You weren't a virgin when he fucked you before, but his size made you feel like tearing everything possible. It had you anxiously excited.

"Ha!" You responded to his previous statement. "You haven't seen the least of my incredibility," you boasted. Then you felt it. A massive fucking cock just brushing over your dripping cunt. It slid between your folds, massaging your clit with every up and down movement.

His chest pressed up against your back, mouth close to your ear. You felt his hot breaths. You felt his tongue wetting your lobe. Shivers. Fucking shivers.

"Then show me."

Fuck! What better word to describe what he was doing to you? With no mercy and no time for taking a breath, he fucked himself deep into you. Pounding endlessly until you swore, he reached your cervix. A repeated motion of buckling his hips and gripping your waist. It drove you mad.

Again and again, he thrusted into you and then for absolutely no fucking reason... he stopped. Dick buried deep inside of you, you were hoisted up and pressed against him. Your back against his chest. Both standing on your knees, only you had a twitching cock inside of you.

"Show me exactly what makes you so memorable."

When you made your remark, you meant it in two ways. You were incredible. Your quirk, to be more specific. And when he uttered those words, it somehow managed to slip out doubled meaning as well.

When all he got was sympathy, you proved to him that life was cruel and there was no point bitching about that. Yet you lightened something that he didn't even know was there. A flame, perhaps? A glimpse of... motivation?

His arms were crossed over your body, each hand gripping a tit. your one hand reached to cup his cheek, while the other rested atop his hands. His nose nuzzled into your neck, pecking it softly.

"If I did that, you might not want to let me go."

You wanted him. Before it was only a hunch and even now you could've just been under the influence of his arousal, but you wanted him. And not just in the sexual way. You wanted him. Desperately.

"You thought I was going to let you go?" He tugged at a string in your mind that sent flutters into your tummy. One peck to the cheek and you were back on all fours, gripping onto the sheets and crying out cries of pleasure. Bouncing along to his beat. Taking him in inch by inch. Like a hawk in heat, he made you his.

His thrusts became sloppy and breaths even more rigid. He was close. You gasped and yelped all at once, feeling the sudden attachment of his finger fingering your clit. Over stimulation. Complete and utter rapture. Glee that made you feel wanted and adored. How could he have such an effect on you?

Your walls tightened and pussy juices squirted all over his pounding cock. Hawks himself then joined you in orgasm and filled you with his seed. Hot, sticky cum dripped from your cunt, sweat mixing in with it.

You were exhausted. He plucked himself from your clingy pussy and turned to sit on the edge of the bed. At first, you fell face first into the bed. You then caught your breath and adjusted your position to look at him. He sensed it and looked back at you.

No words. He simply crawled onto the bed and wrapped big strong arms around you. Gently, he shifted both your weights to lay on your sides; snuggled up against him. You felt hot, sure, but you also felt safe. You heard him chuckle with little amusement.

"Last time I held you I could at least cover you up," he mentioned towards his lost wings. The fluttering burned and you had a heavy sensation dropping in your chest. He pecked your forehead, but let go when you looked up at him.

"I want to show you how incredible I am now." You've decided. His head titled slightly to the side in confusion and he snickered.

"Thought we already established that, kid."

You pulled your lips into a thin line, but then shook your head. Sincerity in your eyes allowed him to understand how serious you were, and his expression softened. He looked at you and maintained focus on where you were touching him. Over his chest, down his sides. Across his back... until you touched the roots where his wings once were.

He cringed or flinched; you weren't sure. One hand went to his neck, and you pulled him in for a kiss. Something to distract him. Something to comfort him. Intimacy. Affection. Passion. All synced along to the kiss. You worked your magic. He didn't notice.

When you pulled away his forehead touched yours. You felt gingerly at the roots of his wings. You smiled. You started to giggle. He looked down on you and gave you a questioning look. You simply smiled up at him.

"And that smile?" As reply you gestured towards the bathroom. In specific the mirror. He felt like there was something on his face or some shit and decided to get up. You sat there, excitedly waiting for him to open his gift from you. It was honestly the least you could do for him.

He looked at his reflection and saw nothing out of the ordinary. He turned to the side and looked back at where you were sitting on the bed, shrugging. You motioned towards the mirror again, this time he only turned his head to examine his side figure.

H-How?

His eyes were wide, yours were closed. His mouth was agape, yours pulled up in a smug smile. His hands were near trembling, yours were ready to embrace him again. There they were. At his roots.

Two little bundles of freshly grown, scarlet-red feathers. An unforgettable favor.

Hawks

#hawks x reader #hawks fluff #takami keigo #hawks smut #my hero acedamia #keigo takami x reader #mha x reader #mha smut

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babygirlispunk · 1 year

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Summer Fling - PART TWO

Pedro Pascal x f!Reader

Summary: lady luck is on your side on a night out with your friends and a chance encounter fuelled by liquid courage giving you a sense of DeJa'Vu.

Warnings: 18+, age gap, alcohol consumption, mentions of hard drugs (reader not consuming), a forced kiss (not from ped), swearing and female degrading words.

Word count: 3.2k

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It had been two weeks since New Years. You still couldn't believe what had happened, that you had your New Years kiss with him. You play over and over again how intense it was. The feeling of his lips, nose, hands and body imprinted on your brain. His taste, his smell, those eyes...

You tried not to become obsessive over it but it was hard when you had never experience a kiss like that before. Something so simple but now your expectations had risen tenfold.

The kicker was that you had even made it onto celebrity news briefly, solidifying that it really happened. Turns out there were some people in the crowd that had taken pictures and videos of you and Pedro but to your luck you were unidentifiable and didn't have to deal with any online harassment.

Not wanting to upset yourself you didn't read the comments and gossip articles, knowing the internet can be cruel. Though Syria did take it on for herself to read some and show you the nice ones. For the most part people were just curious about who you were, if you and Pedro had any history and a lot speculation about your age.

Despite being in your later 20's, there was some people bashing Pedro for getting with someone much younger than him. It annoyed you a little. There may have been a 20 or so year age gap, you were both adults having a harmless fun pash. Hopefully this wouldn't put a stain on his career.

"These girls acting like they wouldn't be over the moon if they were in your positions." Syria reassures you. "I literally seen a 14 years old thirsting over him. 14. Years. Old!"

You chuckle at her frustration. "Who cares, they'll forget about the whole thing in a couple days."

"He's still in Australia, by the way...." she sing songs.

"Have you been stalking him?"

"Someone's got to." she shrugs and you give her a playful shove on the shoulder. "There's always a chance you could bump into him again."

Rolling your eyes, you get back to your show on the TV and Syria continues scrolling through her phone.

The weekend had rolled around and your friendship group has a night out planned. You all meet up in the CBD and make your way together to a hidden rooftop bar that you all frequent. It's popular enough that there's a good amount of people but low key enough that you're not packed like sardines.

it's edging close to 9pm and the sun is setting over the horizon. Lingering heat from the summer sun is simmering in the air and you thank yourself for choosing to wear a simple, short, halter neck dress and a pair of heel boots while dancing along with the live DJ.

Double parked with glasses of your favourite alcohol, taking sips of each as they spill a bit while you move along with the music and getting buzzed. You're giggling and smiling ear to ear with Syria and Nicola as the dawning sky turns to night.

"Shots, we need shots!" shouts Syria running over to the bar followed by Nicola. You follow suit chugging the last of your two drinks so you can join in with the shots.

You place your empty glasses on the bar and watch as the bar tender pours into the shot glasses for your group. You focus on the bottle and see the bold 'Vodka' text written on the bottle's label and begin contemplating whether you are willing for the night to turn wild or not. Though Nicola doesn't give you a choice and shoves the glass into your hand.

'Cin cin' is chanted out in your group and you all simultaneously throw your heads back, swallowing it whole. Another glass is shoved into your hand.

"Cin cin!"

Another gulp and you feel your throat burning followed by the warming sensation travelling down your chest.

"God that's awful" coughs out Nicola, her face screwed up and disgusted from the vodka.

"Gets the job done quicker and cheaper." Syria calls out.

As everyone hangs around chatting loudly over the music, you feel a soft brush rubs along your back and something familiar invades your senses. A scent. That sweet musky scent. Where have you smelt that before? You try to focus on the familiarity but the Vodka is working its way to your brain quicker than you can comprehend.

Before you can look around your hand is snatched by Syria, Nicola and a few other girls as they lead you back on to the dance floor. The more you move the more you feel the mixed alcohol taking effect over your body. The girls are all dancing close together, hanging off each other and sharing affectionate hugs and kisses on the cheek as you drunkenly announce your love for each other. You know your group is gathering some attention, like second nature you can feel eyes burning into you no matter what state of mind you are in. Feeling a little on edge.

Some guys close in on your friends just as you feel a pair of hands slither their way onto your waist. It feels icky and you can feel your body stiffening.

You spin around to see some guy with blonde hair around your age giving you a sloppy smirk. Through blurry vision you see his blue eyes but his iris's are blown out. Without much warning he goes down to kiss you, taking you by surprise as your eyes stay open in shock. His grip hardens on your waist and forces his tongue into your mouth, pressing his face into yours and that's when you can taste it. Whatever drug he had can consumed chars your mouth and the vile taste makes you want to vomit.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you firmly push him off you releasing the kiss he looks at you dumbfounded.

"What the fuck man?" you almost spit out the words as the taste lingers and you wipe his saliva from your mouth. "You taste like shit!"

"Its just coke you bitch." his words are slurred.

All you can do is give him your most confused and disgusted face till he turns around and walks off with his mate towards to the toilet, probably off to have another bump. You check on your friends and they seem to be more successful with their hook ups.

Eager to be rid of the bitter taste you get to the bar and order a water and chug it but is useless. You order another drink along with another shot of vodka instead in hope the alcohol can burn the taste away. Another body joins next to you as you wait for your drink to be made. You peer in your peripheral vision to make sure its not the same guy but you see brunette hair and internally sigh in relief.

He orders a drink as well, waiting beside you.

"Hey there." The guy next to you says in an American accent.

You turn your attention to him, everything a blur you only just make out a nice side smile accompanied by a dimple on his right cheek. His energy was different right off the bat, much calmer and nicer, but you couldn't be bothered with a potential repeat like before.

Your drinks is placed in front of you, tapping your card to pay, sculling the shot and lever yourself off the bar. "Sorry not interested."

Drink in hand, you head towards an empty booth to catch a breather. As you pass the guy, your nose is again engulfed by that smell. He must've been the one who passed you earlier. Not thinking much of it other than just a guy with nice cologne you plop yourself down on the seat to people watch. Well the best you could in your state and in dim lighting.

Sipping your drink and looking around, but like a sniffer dog following a scent hot on its trail, your eyes fall back on the intoxicatingly good smelling guy. He moved his way on to a table, sitting on a stool talking to his friend across him. His blurry silhouette starts to become more detailed the more you stare at him.

The messy brown hair, the glasses, puppy eyes, hooked nose, pouty lip... firm arms...

(Highly recommend listening to Glue - BICEP for the next part, for the vibe and bonus points if you listen to the Nelly Furtado remix *chefs kiss*)

The brunette peers your way mid conversation and you lock eyes. You're not sure if its the weighty bass of the song the DJ is playing that makes your heart beat heavy, the sweat from the hot summer air causing goosebumps to form along your skin or the buzz of alcohol but you feel a lightheaded-ness consume you as realisation sets in.

And judging by his face, a subtle eyebrow raise and a cheeky smile he's trying to hold back, he knows you realised too.

You scull the rest of your drink for that last bit of liquid courage, jump out of your chair and bee line to Pedro, his eyes never leaving you.

"Actually I'm very interested. Wanna dance?" you blurt out and shove your hand out for him to grab, slightly embarrassed that was the first thing you could think of saying to him and his friend giggles near by. But that embarrassment quickly subsides as he smiles wide, making his eye crinkle slightly.

"I'd love to dance." He excuses himself to his friend and they nod back. Placing his hand, entwining your fingers together it sends an electrical jolt through you that makes you inhale deep.

You lead the way to the dance floor gently pushing your way through people to get to the middle. You swivel on your heel to face him and a sense of DeJa'Vu overwhelms you. The loud bass-y music pounding around you, the crowded space, eyes locked and your crazy beating heart, you're almost frozen on the spot because you can't believe this is happening again. Like as if you've dreamed up this fantasy to relive the euphoric feeling that was New Years Eve.

Pedro starts dancing to encourage you out of your frozen state. He starts bouncing and flailing his hands around making you giggle and you start to dance more rhythmically. He looked goofy but you really appreciated his self-confidence to not care how he was dancing.

Dance lights are flashing rapidly making it look like everything is in slow motion and as your moving around you can really feel all the alcohol you had consumed, warming you up and giving you a new sense of confidence and cheekiness. Pedro starts moving more rhythmically and grabs your hands, bringing them to his mouth and kisses them.

Letting the music take over you both, like magnets, you're pulled together connecting bodies once again intensifying the vibe and the yearning at your core. His hands pull yours around his back so you're hugging him and his placed his arms around your neck. As he leans in for the kiss, you take the opportunity to be playful.

Turning around but not losing the space between you two, you lean your back on him. You keep dancing but purposefully rub your ass against him and his hands are quick to slide down your arms onto your waist firmly flushing his body to yours as you feel something growing against your backside.

Pedro dips his head into the crook of your neck, planting kisses along it making you rest your head on him, staring at the starry sky. He moans your name into your ear and lowers his left hand to the hem of your dress, circling your upper thigh, building a pulse down below and making you hum excitedly.

The fact he remembered not just your face but your name as well made you want you to kiss him so bad but you were having to much fun playing with him and instead pressed harder against him.

"Mierda.." he breathes out and nips at the skin of your neck, sliding his righthand from your hip to your breast and groping a hand full. "Putting on a show for your friends are we?"

Your eyes snap forward not realising how into it you were to see Syria and Nicola and a few other friends a little ways ahead of you. Most look confused but Syria is excitedly throwing a double thumbs at you with a cheesiest smile her cheeks can handle and mouthing 'get in' to you.

You burst out laughing, maybe a little too hard, struggling to keep control of yourself and nearly toppling over. Maybe you shouldn't have had that last drink.

"Why don't we take a break, get some air. I think that alcohol is catching up to you." He hooks an arm around you for balance and leads you away from the dance floor back to the high table.

He places himself on the stool and gestures you to stand between his legs and you follow. Head heavy and dizzy you slump your forehead in his neck and nuzzle in, inhaling a deep breathe of his scent. You are met with a warm embrace as he wraps his arms around you and you feel like you could fall asleep right then and there.

"I didn't think I'd see you again."

You slowly raise your head up to look at him through heavy lids. "Me either... Honestly I didn't believe it happened untill seeing myself plastered on the internet."

"I hope you didn't read what they had to say." he looks at you a little worried, brows pinching together and enhancing his puppy eyes.

"Nah, I just tried to ignore it."

"Good girl."

Such simple words but they sounded like music to your ears. Music that reverberated in your body making you feel like your body belong to him and couldn't go a second longer away from his touch.

Closing in your face to his, you ghost your lips over his, so close his moustache tickled you lip. He moves a hand to your jaw line and strokes your cheek, you're not sure why he's holding back now, especially after essentially dry fucking on the dance floor.

"I just need to make sure before I completely give in to you... how old are you."

You snort. "You ask me that after feeling me up?"

"I know... My publicist was concerned when those pictures got out and she reminded me the legal drinking age is 18 here. Even 21 is too young for me."

He's looking at your lips and you can see he's struggling to hold back. You know he knows you're old enough for this to not be weird but you give him peace of mind.

"I can assure you I am older than that. Nothing questionable going on here." You reassure him with a smile and within a second his lips are planted on yours, his hand gliding its way to the nape of your neck to pull you in.

As soon as it begins, your kiss ends, being interrupted by a gyrating voice you've heard before. "Hey man, sorry to jump in but are you Pedro Pascal?"

You both turn to face the male. Its the coke guy from before. He squints at you still cut from your previous interaction and you just roll your eyes.

"Yes I am." He gives the guy a courteous smile but keeps a firm hold on your hip bringing you in close hoping the guy takes the hint that he is preoccupied right now.

"Sick I thought so, my girlfriend is massive fan and I have her on facetime right now, can you say hi to her? Her names Jenna." He stammers, chewing aggressively on a piece of gum.

That asshole.

Pedro politely grabs the phone screen being shoved in his face and talks to the girl on the other side. You look at the guy straight in the eyes and notice a glistening sheen form on his forehead not sure if its from the drugs or he's shitting himself. He's eyeing you back begging you not to do anything but if you where her, you would want to know if your boyfriend was a cheating dog.

"Hey Jenna..." you say into the phone and his mouth drops and he goes pales. "As a girls girl, you deserve to know that your boyfriend is a cheating coke head."

You hear a shocked gasp come from the screen and funnily enough Pedro turns the phone to face you, amusement in his face.

"Yeah, he forced a kiss on me earlier-" You feel Pedro's fist clench on your hip, "-and then called me a bitch when I pushed him away."

The poor girl looks devastated and begins apologising profusely.

He turns the phone back on to himself. "Don't apologies darling, dump his a-" Before he can finish the phone is snatched from his hand, the guy frantically hangs up the call and looks at the both of you pissed off.

"Who do you think you are? And you're just some slut hooking up with this old man."

Pedro's body shifts beside you and before it escalates you place your hand on his should holding him down on the stool before turning your attention back to the asshole looking at him dead in the eye.

"Fuck off mate." you spit it out, doing your best to get him to back down. After a few seconds he finally backs seeing you hold your stance and Pedro's angry face, brows pulled together and tight lipped.

As he storms off, you notice some people around you had notice the commotion and were staring. Some were already taking pictures and videos because of who was involved.

You felt guilty that you had drawn attention around Pedro when he was flying under the radar and enjoying the night. You look at him and he realises that his night out has ended as it was likely people would start crowding around him.

His friend shuffles over to him and they start exchanging words.

'...probably go'

'right...'

'...do you need'

'be fine...'

'...stay'

He manoeuvres you so he can get off the seat, you expect this to be good bye.

He dips his head to your ear. "I have to go before I get horded. I'm not expecting anything from you but would you like to come back to my hotel with me and we can get to know each other without the distractions?"

No matter the situation, he was still polite as ever.

You nod your head a little too vigorously and it makes him chuckle, giving you his hand to take. All eyes on you two, you make your way to the elevator with your head down and Pedro using his body the best he can to shield you from onlookers.

Once the elevator doors closes, he lets out a big sigh. Leaning against the metal wall he pulls you in to rest against his chest and you do so diligently. Using his nose, he nudges your head to move aside and give him better access to your neck to peck at, arms hugging you securely making sure you're not going anywhere and leaving him this time.

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check out my recs list for stories written by people with actual talent ♡

A/N: can't believe part one got to 200 notes wha wha what!? ily a milly

Tags: @mingeniee @onlyrealjoy @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x f!reader

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 1 year

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Sip the gossip (drink till you choke)

Sip the gossip, burn down your throat

When Jingyi, Zizhen and Sizhui joined Jin Ling at the newly opened bar near Jinlintai after the discussion conference, last thing they expect was to find him frowning so deeply that he appeared murderous, fingers gripping his cup hard enough to crack it.

"You okay?" Jingyi asked as he flagged down a waitress for some more wine and snacks. "Did someone mess with you or something? I can pretend I'm drunk and beat them up for you."

"No." And Jin Ling eyes darken even more for a moment, his attention drawn somewhere else. "Shut up and listen."

Everyone focuses in on the conversation happened at the table to their right. Two men, one fat and the other stick thin, draped in so much fake jewelry that their skin was beginning to turn green.

"Heavens, what is this world coming to?" The fat one shouted, downing a large cup of alcohol, "Inviting that disgraceful murderer to the discussion conference as if he hadn't been the one nursing Wen dogs all those years ago! Such scum to share space with us, fine people! Why don't they invite other criminals too?! My brother's been locked up for decades for an accidental killing, he deserves to be heard more than that Yiling Laozu!"

"And he's being so liberal around Hanguang-Jun too!" The skinny one completes, finishing his own wine jar and ordering another, "Such whorish behaviors, even for a cutsleeve! And nobody dares say anything! Not even Zewu-Jun! He lets them do whatever, I bet he'd say nothing if they began fucking in the middle of the conference hall!"

"Disgusting! Who does he think he is, flaunting like he doesn't have our families' blood on his hands?! I should just kill him myself and rid the world of that evil again!" The fat one shouts, hitting his fist against the table loud enough for the dishes to clank together. "And burn down that monster of his too, the Ghost General! My God, a Wen dog allowed among us! Treated the same as us!"

"You're telling me! He acts all modest and innocent, but we all know who he's killed! How does Sect Leader Jin tolerate his existence? His father must be rolling in his grave!"

"His mother too! The Yiling Laozu killed her, yet her son is acting so familial with him! Even Sect Leader Jiang says nothing! What kind of an uncle is that?! Did he not care about his own sister at all?!"

"What could he even do? The Lans coddle the Yiling Laozu like he's their most prized possession! And Sect Leader Jin's just some brat that got put on a throne, what does he know? I bet the Yiling Laozu is manipulating him and waiting to take over the Jin sect himself! Isn't he in the body of one of Jin Guangshan's half sons? It would be the perfect pretext!"

"I don't know how everyone is okay with all this! Didn't we risk put lives storming the Burial Mounds decades ago to kill the Yiling Laozu?! We're all supposed to protect him and love him now?! Ridiculous!"

"You know everyone else thinks the same! But they're too scared of the Lans! They've gained so much power recently, all those new disciples they've adopted out of nowhere... orphans! And they're taught by the Yiling Laozu... how does Lan Qiren tolerate this heresy?!"

"Terrible, terrible world we live in! Imagine, me, a sect leader, getting scolded by some Lan junior! All because I said-"

"It was because you are a prejudiced, small-minded, overly privileged piece of shit that became so insufferable someone had to speak up." Jin Ling loudly intervened, unable to take anymore of the tirade. He walked up to the neighboring table and delighted in the horrified looks of the two men. "And you should be glad it was a Lan and not me because as bratty as you lot think I am, I am equal parts as powerful and I could have had you sent into the dungeons with a look."

"If you insist on being detestable in public," Sizhui started, icy anger in his eyes that looked so much like Wen Ruohan's that the two men nearly got war flashbacks, "make sure the people you speak ill of aren't within earshot. This is a bar, and alcohol is being consumed here. Inhibitions are lowered and emotions run high." And he draws his blade out of its sheath just enough for the glare to shine in the men's eyes. "It would be most unpleasant to ruin this establishment's new furniture with bloodstains."

"And anyway," Zizhen added, smiling dangerously, "not everybody is up for hearing all this vitriol. If this is how you think of your generations' most respectable and most powerful members, you must not be that intelligent or useful to maintain relations with either. My father will be hearing about this, what is the point wasting our sect's resources for the likes of you?"

"I'm nowhere near as elegant as my friends over here, so heed my warning. Talk shit of anyone from the Lan sect, which, mind youm includes Senior Wei and the Ghost General, and I'll have you delivered to the Lan sect's punishment quarters myself. Hanguang-Jun will gladly take care of the rest after, and I'll thoroughly enjoy watching." Jingyi spoke, his voice so low and threatening that it made even his friend's skin prickle with fear. He also took the wine jars off the men's table and sent them a glare. "This is for the trouble. On your tab."

They nodded and quickly scampered off.

The four friends began laughing and high-fiving each other immediately after, sharing alcohol and memories the entire rest of the night.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #writing attempts

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