#and I like all pronouns but day to day I use she

[idkwhatever580]

I would die happy

Pairings: teen!Natasha Romanoff x teen!reader

Song Inspiration: very loosely based off of the songs Casual by Chappell Roan and Ashley by Zolita (They’re good to listen to before hand but not necessary. I’ll link them)

Prompt: what happens when “good girl” y/n breaks it off with “bad girl” Natasha and Natasha realizes she needs y/n more than she thought?

Warnings:mentions of sex, angst then fluff, mentions of death? (From the song).

Pronouns: unspecified (one use of ma’am but in a silly way)

A/N: No this is not an actual songfic. I just took inspiration from the songs so there might be a line or five in the mix. I have had these songs stuck in my head the past few days and I kept imagining like a teen romance coming out of it? Idk. Hopefully I write this better than the last one 😭

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Y/n’s pov

I am in my room doing my homework when I hear tapping on my window. I look up from my neat desk to see Natasha.

My instinct is to smile and open the window up but I freeze.

Natasha Romanoff.

Bad girl. She vandalizes things. She doesn’t participate. And she dresses like a fuck boy.

Some call her a player. Some call her a cheater.

Whatever they think there’s one thing everyone can agree on. Natasha romanoff does not do relationships.

She’s usually the one night stand type of girl but then she met me. And that’s when everyone says she went soft. She never fucked another girl other than me.

But that’s all. For half a year. All she’s ever done is sex, aftercare, leave, repeat.

Another set of tapping falls upon my ears and I zone back in. I open the window and whisper

“What are you doing here?”

Natasha crawls in and says

“Wanted to see you. You alright there? You zoned out for a sec”

I nodded my head and my eyes fall upon her necklace. It’s silver with a little arrow.

I hate myself when I think of it. I nod my head and say

“Yeah. Totally fine. Just doing some homework”

I sit back down at my desk even though I know why Natasha is here.

After a whole 6 months of this it’s hard to not know what her routine is. But I don’t want it anymore.

Obviously I caught feelings. Who wouldn’t catch feelings for her? I just thought that I would get over it. I thought that having some of her is better than none of her at all right?

Wrong.

I cry so much now. All I want is for her to love me back. But that’s not reality. She doesn’t do love. She doesn’t do relationships. And I can’t do it anymore.

Natasha walks up behind me and rubs her hands down my arms and starts kissing my neck. My body lets her do it but then I think about it and take her hands off me.

“Not tonight. I have to study”

She doesn’t let up. Because usually I like playing hard to get. So she doesn’t know. And that’s okay. It’s my fault she doesn’t know.

“I can help you relax baby”

I roll my eyes at the pet name and say

“Natasha. Can we talk?”

She stands up straighter at my use of her full name and says

“Yeah. Sure”

I can tell she is a bit surprised at me but she nods her head nevertheless.

She sits down at the foot of my bed and I roll my chair over to her.

I sigh and look at the ground.

“I don’t know how to say this, but I can’t do this anymore Natasha”

She furrows her eyebrows and says

“You can’t do what?”

“This Natasha,”

I point at her and myself

“I hate myself for letting this drag on so long because I know you. I know you don’t want a relationship. But I lo- I like you Natasha. And I want you. All to myself. I want labels and I want to go to the pier together and eat popsicles and I want you to tell your friends and I want a future with you.”

I can tell I’m overwhelming her with this information but I keep going

“But you don’t want that. And that’s okay! I understand that some things aren’t meant to last. But I can’t keep hurting myself for some fun okay? I need to heal and move on. And you can go find another toy to play with and that’s okay. I just can’t be the one you go to anymore. It’s not what I want. And our ideals clearly do not align. I thought maybe I could do it and be able to handle all of this but I can’t.”

I tear up a bit

“I can’t be casual with you. I want feelings attached and I want you to myself but you don’t want me like that. So I need to cut it off.”

I finally finish my rant and I look down feeling embarrassed.

“I’m sorry”

I apologize and she shakes her head

“Don’t apologize. I get it.”

We sit there for a minute of awkward silence and she sighs and says

“I guess I should go then”

I nod my head and sniffle a bit. She lingers like she has something to say but she ultimately leaves and on her way out of my window she says

“I’ll see you at school I guess”

I nod my head.

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It’s been a week since I cut it off with Natasha and I look rough. My friends are worried about me but I tell them I’m fine.

Even some of my teachers have asked if I’m okay. Of course I lie to them. But it’s nice to know someone cares.

I have avoided Natasha at all costs. But I still find myself thinking about her.

Her arrow necklace. God I hate myself when I think of it. Because then I think of her. And then I start crying. Or I just shut down.

Yes. I may or may not have almost said I love you the night I cut it off with her. But I didn’t want her to have to hold all of my baggage. It’s not fair. She doesn’t like me like that. And she doesn’t deserve to feel guilty for what I feel.

My friend Emerald walks up to me during a free period and she says

“Hey did you see Natasha today?”

I shake my head and say

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

She shakes her head and says

“Well you’re gonna have to listen. She is the talk of the school right now so either you hear it from me or someone else.”

I roll my eyes and say

“What Em? Does she have a new toy hanging on her shoulder?”

Clearly I’m a little ticked off about having to hear about her.

But em shakes her head and I look at her and wait for her to continue

“She’s wearing your hoodie”

I look at her and say

“My hoodie? She doesn’t have any of my clothes, except for that bra that I’ll probably never get back”

She takes out her phone and shows me my favorite hoodie. It’s the pink one that I got from the thrift store. They all knew it was mine because it has em’s name on the sleeve. And a duck on the front.

I remember now. I forgot it at her house one time after she fucked me in her beach house. That was the day everyone found out and started talking about how I’m just a girl she fucked on her couch.

I cried so much that I forgot about it. And of course she just came over to make me forget about all the things people said.

I look at her and say

“Why would she ever wear that?”

She wiggles her eyebrows at me and says

“She obviously likes you y/n”

I roll my eyes and say

“She doesn’t like me Em. From the beginning everyone has known she doesn’t do crushes.”

Em shrugs her shoulders and says

“People can change.”

I roll my eyes and get a little frustrated and say

“Leave it Em. I don’t want to talk about it.”

She puts her hands up in surrender and leaves it at that.

The rest of the day goes by slowly. But I catch a glimpse of Natasha at the end of the day. She is wearing my hoodie. She looks good in it. But she shouldn’t be wearing that. I’m not hers. And she’s not mine.

I quickly leave so she doesn’t see me. Even though we definitely made eye contact. But it’s whatever.

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It’s about 8 pm now and I’m studying again. This final is about to make or break me so I can’t let myself loosen the reigns even though it’s only a midterm.

I have my headphones on and I’m listening to classical because it apparently helps people study. I’m honestly doing anything to help me.

A hand taps my shoulder and I jump up quickly but thankfully I don’t yell.

I turn around quickly and see Natasha standing there.

I immediately get frustrated and say

“What are you doing here?”

I take a second to actually look at her and she looks like shit. Honestly she is looking at me like a lost puppy. Like she hasn’t been in my room for six months. Her hair is a mess, shes still in my hoodie, and the bags under her eyes indicate that she hasn’t been sleeping well. I almost feel bad for her. Then I remember I can’t let my feelings get in the way. She says

“I um… I wanted to talk to you”

I sigh and say

“Well what is it? I’m listening?”

I feel bad for being so short with her but I can’t do it any other way or else I’ll break down.

She kind of stands there for a second and I sit down on my bed and pat it. I might as well be nice to her. She’s not a horrible person anyways.

She shakes her head slightly and keeps standing. I look at her and say

“You wanted to talk?”

She nods her head and says

“I don’t know how to say this but… I- I need you y/n”

I have never seen Natasha cry once. But she immediately breaks down in front of me

“I can’t do this without you. I need you so bad I just want all of you. I thought that if I convinced myself that it was for the better, that if I said I wanted this it would come true. But it’s not true I- I love you and I know you are probably over me by now and that’s okay I just need to tell you that I want you and only you. I know I’ve never done anything like this but I want to I want to change. I want to be good. For you. I want to take you on dates and tell everyone about you. And I don’t think I can do this without you because life is like a bad dream without you and I didn’t even realize what I had until I lost it!”

She starts crying. I start tearing up at her confession and I say

“Stop it. Stop it Natasha.”

It’s short and snippy because I’m about to cry.

“You can’t just say those things and pull at my heart just to get into my pants okay? I’m sorry that nobody wanted to get with you but I cannot just go crawling back to you if you just lie to me to get me back”

She looks at me and she shakes her head aggressively and says

“No. No I don’t. I don’t want to get into your pants I actually love you. I didn’t even know it because I’ve never felt love before y/n. Please you have to understand me I love you. I love you so much and I want a future with you. I was just scared but I’m not scared anymore I want you!”

She drops to her knees and tries to calm down a bit and says

“I understand if you don’t want me but I want you. I want to be your girlfriend. I want to introduce you to my friends and family. And- and I know my past doesn’t help anything. My reputation is probably your biggest fear but I can’t imagine my life without it. I’ve never been the sappy type but I’m telling the truth. If loving you kills me then I will die happy y/n”

I look at her from my bed and I see the genuine look in her eyes. I tear up again and the I get down from my bed and she looks down. It’s like she’s worshipping me. Like if she doesn’t she might lose me.

I envelope her in a hug and she starts crying into me. And I say

“Tell me that you love me and you won’t leave me.”

She looks at me with tears running down her face and her nose is sniffly and she says with such confdence

“I love you y/n. Nothing can change that. I won’t ever leave you. Not even if I could. I want to be yours”

I smile at her as she waits for me to answer and I grab her head and lean into her. I kiss her.

This kiss is different than any other kiss I’ve ever shared with her. It’s soft and tender. And full of love. I don’t even care that her tears and boogers are getting on me.

I don’t care. I just love her. I pull away and giggle and she kind of sits in criss cross. And I say

“Natasha. I love you too. I’ve loved you for a while now. I was just scared to say it.”

She sends me a dopey smile. I’ve never seen her smile at me like that. I like it. So I boop her nose and say

“Cute.”

She scrunches up her nose and says

“I’m everything but cute right now.”

I shake my head and say

“You’re always cute.”

I kiss her again after she wipes her face off and it’s sweet. I pull her into my lap and she says

“I don’t like this.”

Normally I guess she would be more comfortable with me on her lap. But I don’t care.

“I guess you’re just gonna have to suck it up.”

We sit on my floor for a bit and I say

“Oh shit! It’s late.”

I check the time and say

“It’s nine o’clock already! You have to get home baby”

She stops at the nickname and says

“Wait. So… are we?”

I giggle and say

“After all of that? There’s no way we’re not dating. So yes. I’m gonna call you baby. But you need to go home and I need sleep”

She smiles and says

“Can I have a hug before I go?”

I nod my head and pull her in for a long hug.

I kiss her head and then her nose and then her lips and say

“I love you. Now go. I’ll pick you up for school tomorrow?”

She usually walks to school and I drive but I want to pick her up now. She nods her head and I stop her before she leaves my window and I say

“And I want my hoodie back.”

She laughs softly and says

“No way. It’s mine now.”

Then I pull her back in to me and distract her with a kiss. I say

“Well then. I guess this is mine now”

I swiftly pull the hoodie she has on right now off of her and she pouts and says

“Aw man. That’s a good hoodie.”

I smile and say

“Only the best for me right?”

She smiles finally and nods her head and I say

“Text me when you get home okay?”

She nods her head and says

“Yes ma’am”

I giggle and shake my head. I watch as she walks off into the night and I hop onto my bed and cuddle my stuffed animal with a bright smile on my face.

All of that heartache must have been worth it.

She was right. If loving her kills me, then I would die happy.

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A/N: I actually kind of like how this one turned out. I know I pulled from the songs a lot but at least it was built into the words and not like a normal songfic lol. Because I’ve heard that many people do not like songfics :)

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #fanfic #avengers

[heavenlyvision]

˚₊‧⁺⋆༄ dearest pt.II first part ˗ˏˋ here ˎˊ˗ pairing: Vamp!Tomas x reader wc: 7k warnings: 18+ only, smut, mentions of injuries, blood drinking, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasms, p in v sex, minor cumplay, -- like tiniest amount, afab!reader, no pronouns or y/n used, pet names used; dear/dearest a/n; i hope you enjoy it !!! i know this took a while for me to finish and i'm thankful to you all for being so patient !!! <333 MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

Most of your day is spent being anxious about Tomas’ promise to return tonight, you don’t know what he’s expecting, or if he’s expecting anything at all. Last night… sleeping with him was stupid, he’s not even really Tomas, you mean… he is… but he’s not. What even is his end game here, was it to sleep with you? Does he plan on killing you? And what is your end game? Surely you can’t leave him like this… you don’t want to leave him like this, you miss your Tomas.

The way you’re feeling is getting hazy and the lines are blurring, you’ve grown too attached to someone who isn’t even their original self. How would Tomas feel when he comes back, only to see you left him like that for so long, would he still look at you the way he used to? With kindness and adoration, or would he condemn you and tell you that you’ve broken his trust. These thoughts that plague you are debilitating, whatever you decide to do, you need to do it soon. Maybe you’ll be able to talk to him tonight… or maybe that’s not a great idea.

A knock on your door startles you out of your thoughts, looking to the clock you can see it’s about the time Kuai Liang visits everyday but when you open it, the only person in front of you is Harumi.

“Hi! It’s just me today, Kuai is a little bit busy but I’d like to chat, we’ve not spoken in a while,” she smiles at you, it’s kind but also mildly strained.

You eye her for a few moments, feeling uneasy by her lack of explanation and Kuai’s lack of presence, “…Yeah, uhh… come on in,” you say, stepping off to the side to let her into your home.

She brushes past you and moves to the small dining table, sitting as she asks, “How have you been?”

Lingering awkwardly, you answer, “I have been… fine I guess,” you pass her on the way into the kitchen, “Tea?”

“Yes, thank you,” she fiddles with her fingers against the table and quietly waits for you to return with tea, not speaking again until you’re done in the kitchen and sitting across from her, “I just wanted to come by and check on you, make sure you’re… well,” she blows on her drink, watching you carefully.

“I’ve been fine, not great but nothing has changed since yesterday,” you’re lying through your teeth, you just hope she doesn’t notice.

She has come here for a reason today and you aren’t quite sure what it is but she knows something, you can only hope she doesn’t know about Tomas visiting you nightly. The reactions you’d get from her, from everyone, well, to be quite honest are frightening to think about. You’ve waited so long now and there isn’t any real or good reason as to why – besides the fact that you enjoy Tomas and all of his attention, foolishly, you like him.

This visit is incredibly uncomfortable, you know why you’re uncomfortable but you can’t figure out why she’s uncomfortable. It’s been a good few moments now, of her trying to think of something to say and failing.

Your patience is growing thin and as you sigh, you decide to be blunt, “Has something happened, Harumi? You seem to be worrying about something.”

Her eyes grow wide for a second before she collects herself, “No, nothing has happened… I guess I’m just worried over Tomas, I’m not supposed to tell you… but he’s been moving closer to the village, I’m just a little concerned for you.”

If you hadn’t known her for so long, you’d believe her but she’s still withholding something from you. It is an incredibly good cover though, “I am not worried, I can take care of myself,” you offer in an attempt to ease her nerves, she’s lying but she’s still genuinely concerned for you, you believe that much.

She smiles appreciatively at you but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Thank you,” she murmurs, taking a sip of her drink.

The visit isn’t long, she doesn’t linger like Kuai Liang does, she came to check on you, have a small chat and then she’s out the door. It’s something you value about her, not really being one to linger yourself. It’s not often she drops by on her own though, her solo visit has raised alarm bells in your mind.

You’re on edge for the rest of the day, leg bouncing anytime you try to sit still, too much anxious energy pent up inside you. You can’t focus enough to do anything though, nothing holding your attention long enough to forget about your situation. The day can’t go by slow enough, you want it to hurry up so you can see Tomas and talk to him, maybe he has answers, or will be able to offer you some comfort… wait, since when did you start seeking him for comfort?

˚₊‧⁺⋆༄

Frustratedly, Tomas did not come by last night like he had promised, you waited, even stayed up significantly longer than you usually do, only for him to neglect to visit. It’s not characteristic of him, not when he’s made it an active habit to see you every night for the past few months. For him to suddenly stop out of nowhere, it hurts if you’re honest. It hurts because it feels like he’s gotten what he wanted from you, like he’s lost interest suddenly after fucking you.

Though, it’s suspicious too, especially since Kuai Liang also neglected to come by, sending Harumi in his steed. The lack of communication here is annoying and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to fix it, having to just deal with it whether you want to or not. It’s not like you can ask anyone if they’ve seen Tomas and you certainly can’t ask Kuai, not when he doesn’t even visit.

You’re feeling a little aimless and still on edge, it feels like every muscle in your body is wound tight and like you’re ready to fight back against anything that could give you a mild fright. You can’t sit in your house all day again, you’re going to go stir crazy, you might start bouncing off the walls. Instead of rotting away in your house, you wander around the village, even visiting people you’ve not spoken to in months, not since Tomas’ original disappearance.

It's nice but by the time you’re done, there is a significant amount of day left and you’re still high strung. This is frustrating you to no end, so you choose to go for a walk, not particularly enjoying the thought of it, only hoping it will expend enough energy and that you’ll be too tired to continue to be anxious.

Walking is honestly, annoying, it feels pointless, you know it isn’t and that there are benefits, you just personally feel no benefits from it. You don’t experience the mental clarity; you experience mental irritability. Almost as soon as you start, you want to stop but you’re determined to waste your time, maybe if this irritates you enough, you’ll be too focused on being annoyed to remember everything else.

You can’t be sure how much time passes, but you sure are irritated, instead of forgetting things though, it’s just piling all together. Frustration reaching a new point, you want to scream and kick your legs and have a full-blown tantrum but you just keep going, keep moving forward. You… aren’t used to feeling this uncertain for this long, normally you know what the right thing to do is and maybe if you were being honest with yourself, you’d realise you already know what the right thing to do is but just because it’s the right thing… doesn’t mean it’s easy.  

When you finally turn around and head back home, you’re sufficiently tired by the time you walk through the front door. The first thing you do is head for the shower, washing the day away before collapsing onto the couch, it doesn’t take long for sleep to find you. It isn’t intentional but you also don’t really mind, happy that you’re finally exhausted enough to sleep at all.

˚₊‧⁺⋆༄

It’s been a couple more days now and you still haven’t heard from Tomas, at first it mostly hurt and was vaguely concerning, now it’s starting to just feel concerning. You’ve seen Kuai Liang once, he visited yesterday quickly, to check in on you but he seemed… similar to how Harumi was acting, like he knows something that he’s keeping from you. No one is saying anything to you, so you’re taking things into your own hands. Maybe visiting people again and talking to them will result in some kind of gossip, someone has to have seen something helpful.

Being nosey proves to be fruitful, people tell you little tidbits and what you’ve gathered is – Kuai Liang has seemed on edge the past few days, he has recently asked people if they’ve seen anything unusual, and has been searching the nearby land a lot more frequently. You don’t have to be a genius to figure out he’s had some kind of run in with Tomas, whether he actually made contact or only saw him, you have no way of knowing but you know he’s clearly had some kind of confirmation of his proximity to the village and he must have witnessed his presence himself for it to have affected him this much.

Knowing Kuai has seen Tomas is worrisome, you don’t think Kuai will hurt his brother, he believes he can be helped. It’s Tomas who might react more…violently, he’s not adverse to injuring people, he’s grievously hurt some people just to make a point. To completely dismiss the idea of him harming Kuai Liang would be foolish, though it seems Tomas is avoiding him at the moment so you can be thankful for that much, he’s not actively aiming to attack him. Small miracles or whatever, you just hope Tomas comes by soon… you’re worried about him, the hurt you felt has passed, especially since it seems like he’s been avoiding getting too close because of Kuai Liang, at least… that’s what you’re telling yourself, until proven wrong.

The sun has gone down by the time you get home, though it’s not quite late, you just spent a lot of the daylight in the village, you think you’re finding joy in talking with people again. That or you’ve been feeling lonely since you’ve been getting less visitors lately. Brushing off the thought, you commence your nightly routine of showering and cooking dinner for yourself.

It’s not until after dinner that you’re graced by Tomas’ presence, you’re washing up in the kitchen when you hear thumping as he stumbles into your house. It makes you jump, all the noise he makes as he clumsily enters your home.

“Tomas! What the hell? Where have you–” moving closer, you take in the state of him, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m all good,” he smiles at you, “How have you been?”

He looks really tired, “I’ve been…” you frown deeply as you remember how you’ve been, “I’ve been worried! What happened to you for the past few days?”

He looks guilty, well… as guilty as he can manage, “A lot happened, I–”

“–You slept with me and then disappeared for three whole days,” you cross your arms, still eyeing him carefully, concerned.

“Yes, I see how it may look like that,” he scratches the back of his neck.

Your eyes scrutinise him, “It doesn’t just look like that, that is objectively what happened.”

“From your perspective yes, but a lot… a lot happened, I didn’t mean to leave you hanging… I just couldn’t get close enough to see you again,” he sighs, dejectedly.

You cross your arms, sizing him up, “Well, now that you’re here, can you explain what has happened?”

“I can, I just need to sit down or something,” he rubs at his eyes.

There is something definitely wrong with him, he looks exhausted, you don’t think he could look any worse, “…Yeah, just… lay down on the couch, I’ll get some extra blankets.”

“I won’t need them,” he reminds.

You pause, “Maybe not for warmth but the comfort would be nice… right?”

He smiles at you softly, so slight that you wouldn’t notice if you didn’t watch him so closely, “Sure.” You know he’s lying for your sake, but you’ll get him the blankets anyways.

When you come back into the living room, Tomas has made himself comfortable on your couch, you go to give him the blankets and his hand brushes yours as he takes them. You aren’t sure if he’s going to use them or not, but he unfolds one and stretches it out over himself, he’s quite large under the small throw blanket, not that he seems to mind. He uses the other to prop his head up on the arm of the couch, he looks a little ridiculous actually, his feet don’t fit under the throw and his head does not look comfortable like that.

You frown at him but there’s an amused smile ghosting your lips, Tomas looks at you, “What?”

“You look ridiculous… you don’t have to use the blankets if you’re uncomfortable,” you move to sit in the armchair facing him.

He frowns, his tone defensive, “No, I will be using them.”

Lightly huffing an amused breath, you say, “Alright! I’m not stopping you…” You let him settle in some more before asking again, in a polite way, “…What happened, Tomas?”

His eyes flick to yours quickly before looking straight ahead, “I ran into Kuai Liang…after I left yours.

You stay silent, mostly because you’re thinking too many things to be able to pick which question you should ask first and you’re hoping he’ll offer that information on his own. But the silence persists, he just lays there, his eyes closing as he sinks further into your couch.

He must feel your increasingly aggravated staring though because he sighs, “We fought.”

The annoyance you’re feeling towards him increases tenfold, “Why are you withholding? Just tell me everything that happened–”

“–Why?” He glances over to you, smirk plastered on his face, “You worried about me? You care about me, about my safety?”

The urge to roll your eyes is strong but you worry that if you give into that urge now, they’ll permanently be placed at the back of your head by the time this conversation is finished, “More worried about what you may have done.”

He huffs at you, amused by your inability to admit you care for him, “Kuai Liang is fine, I had a feeling if anything happened to him you would get upset so I played defence, I didn’t even hurt him… that bad… I think.”

Your tone is flat, “Are you kidding?”

He blinks at you, “I don’t think so.”

When you saw Kuai he seemed fine, so you’re going to assume if he was hurt, it really wasn’t that bad but that doesn’t mean you’re elated by all of this. In fact, you’d say you’re pretty well on your way to being pissed off right about now, you can feel your eyebrow beginning to twitch.

“Okay, listen… before you get upset, just know I really did try my best to avoid a fight,” he moves to try and sit up but winces as he does, only making it about halfway up.

Frowning, you move over to him, kneeling on the floor, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” his hand holds over his stomach as he continues to sit up, his legs still laying across the length of the couch.

You’re beginning to get exasperated, “Okay… so, am I not worrying about it or are you fine?”

He pinches his brows, “Both.”

He’s frustrating you and he knows it, you tug at his clothes to try and see what may have happened, “Stop being annoying and–”

“–You know…if you wanted me to undress for you, all you had to do was ask,” he throws that smug smile your way and you feel like you might start vibrating with your irritation.

Tugging your hands back, you slump to the floor beside him, “Tomas please– just let me look at you…”

“Listen.” He waits for you to look him in the eyes again before continuing, “When I ran into Kuai we fought and I was focused on not hurting him… he nicked me is all, it really isn’t bad.”

You’re confused, “That was days ago… why aren’t you healed yet?”

He looks away from you, “It’s not important.”

Thinking on it, you realise it’s pretty clear why he’s not healing, “Tomas…”

“I’m fine,” he asserts.

You place your hand on his, “You could be finer though… I can help.”

His voice is firm, “No.”

He’s back to annoying you, “Why not?” You whinge slightly, hand tugging away in your irritation.

He sighs heavily, “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

You don’t appreciate his tone, “I’m fairly certain I do.”

He repeats his previous sentiments with a simple, “You don’t.”

You spell it out for him, to show him you do understand, “I’m offering to help you heal faster by letting you drink my blood, there isn’t much to not get–”

He’s growing frustrated with you now, “–You aren’t understanding the gravity of letting me do that.”

You understand his trepidations, but you want to help, “…Tomas–”

“–What if I can’t control myself? You are literally the last person I’d ever want to hurt…” He’s frowning to himself, agonising over the thought.

Reaching out, you go to touch him on his arm again, attempting to offer comfort but it only makes him tense in response, “I want to help and… I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.” He looks you straight in your eyes, his brow set, tone serious, “You’re not understanding just how good you smell to me,” you have a feeling, that if he could manage it, he’d walk away from you.

His words effect you in a way they probably shouldn’t, at least not in this moment anyways, you push away the feelings swirling in your stomach and refocus, “Let me at least see how bad you’re hurt then.”

The hardness in his eyes softens and he nods, a good choice because you were not about to let this go. He moves to sit on the couch properly, no longer laying across it and you stand to help him undress his upper half. You try to be careful, but he still winces at some movements made, his discomfort more apparent now that he’s not trying to hide it from you. Once you’ve managed to get his layers off, you shuffle to sit beside him and look him over, he lets you get your eyeful.

It's honestly not as bad as you were picturing, still not great, if he were human you’d be running to get your first aid kit, but you know of a quicker and hassle-free way to have this fixed fairly soon.

He must feel how hard you’re thinking because he says, “I’m good, it’s fine.”

“Doesn’t look fine,” you quirk a single brow at him.

He keeps a straight face, “Well…” He looks down at his wound and then back at you, “It is.”

“I don’t want to keep going round like this, you’re being unnecessarily stubborn, let me help or I’ll…” You pause to think of a good threat.

He just smiles smugly at you, waiting for your threat patiently, nodding his head in encouragement.

“I’ll…” You look at him sternly, “I’ll never let you touch me again.”

“Well, that seems like an overreaction,” his expression is still overwhelmingly amused, not taking you seriously at all.

You huff out a sigh and slump slightly, “I just want to help.”

“I know you do,” his hand reaches out to cradle the side of your face, “But it’s not necessary.”

Leaning into his touch, you offer a different perspective, “If the roles were reversed and I was the one who was hurt, would you be so quick to give up your argument and not help?”

“I don’t think that’s the same,” he defends himself, badly.

You go to argue with him, but he predicts that move and instead kisses you, he’s gentle about it, kissing you sweetly for only a moment before pulling back. Frowning, you try to remember what you were going to say, “Tomas… seriously, just bite me.”

He hums at you, “No,” he murmurs, moving in to kiss you again.

You stop him, holding a finger to his lips, “I want you to bite me.”

“You into that sort of thing?” He speaks against your finger.

Choosing to fuck with him, you reply, “Yes.”

He groans at you, “You make everything difficult.”

You drop your finger, “Me!?” You’re shocked by his audacity to accuse you of being difficult when this conversation could’ve ended ages ago.

“Yes, you,” he grumbles out mildly annoyed, before pressing his lips onto yours again, this time less gentle about it all.

His kiss is deep and unapologetic, his tongue licks into your mouth, you moan at his forcefulness. The hand on your face tilts your head so he can have more access to you, his other hand gropes at the fat of your hip, wanting to tug you closer, he wants you in his lap.

Parting from him, you voice concern, “Tomas, I don’t think I should sit on you, right now.”

“I disagree, in fact I think you should always sit on me,” he tries to pull you onto him more.

You place your hands on his shoulders, “No, Tomas, seriously, I’m worried about hurting you–”

“–It’d be worth it,” he smiles but you frown at him, and he drops his smile, instead offering, “It’s fine, you’re not going to hurt me.”

You insist, “I don’t want to risk–”

He gets sick of this back and forth and cuts you off by moving you into his lap with ease, apparently his initial attempts were just for show. “I’m not made of glass,” he leans in close, his lips brushing your cheek, “I could still fuck you stupid.”

Deciding to spin this in your favour, you say, “If you want to do anything more than just kiss me, you’ll have to bite me.”

“I really don’t want to hurt you, dear,” his thumb brushes high on your cheekbone.

“This is my first, final, and only offer, if you want to… go any further tonight, you’ll have to drink from me,” you shrug, playing at indifference despite knowing he’s done an exceptional job at making you wet without trying very hard.

Dropping his hands to your thighs, he shuts his eyes and sighs, his head leaning onto the back of the couch.

Cruelly, you grind your cunt down into his pelvis, hoping to incite some kind of reaction, this is quickly changing from wanting to help heal him, to wanting him to bite you while plowing into you. His response is a deep groan and his fingers gripping your thighs harshly, his dick jerking underneath you.

He opens his eyes to look at you, “You’re not playing fairly.”

Quirking a brow at him, you ask, “Would you?”

“Of course not,” he smiles, leaning up again, “But you know… you’re giving away your intentions.”

You feign ignorance, “I’ve not a clue as to what you’re referring.”

“Keep going, keep rubbing your pretty, little cunt down into me and we’ll see who ends up more affected,” he hums, “But remember… I can smell you,” he moves his lips to the side of your ear, “And dear, you smell divine.”

You don’t move, mostly out of spite, he’s overly confident and there’s good reason for it but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t piss you off, just a little bit, “I’m not doing a single thing.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder and his hands rub up and down your thighs, a faint humming leaving him in thought. Turning his head to the side, he licks along the expanse of your neck, when he reaches your jaw, he presses a small kiss to it. Trailing his lips back to yours but you turn your head just before he can kiss your lips and he huffs a sigh in response.

“I can’t even kiss you now?” He questions.

You pout, looking away from him, “No.”

Sighing, he asks, “You want me to bite you this bad?”

Turning back to face him, you add, “Please?”

“Fuuck–” his brows pull together in thought for a moment, “Fine.” You go to celebrate your win, but he cuts you off, “But you need to tell me if it hurts, or if you’re dizzy or if you just don’t want me touching you anymore, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile at him.

He looks worried, like he’s still not sure if this is a good idea, “Alright, just… relax for me.”

“I am relaxed,” you reach out with both your hands and cradle his face, “You need to relax,” leaning in, you press a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling back and waiting for him to bite you.

He takes a breath, “Kiss me again?”

Moving your hands to his shoulders, you lean in again to kiss him, you mean for it to be quick, but he lightly grabs the side of your neck and pulls you closer, kissing you deeper. His lips are insistent and his free hand gropes at you. His sudden parting from you has a whimper leaving your lips but he’s already trailing his kisses from the corner of your mouth down your cheek, past your jaw, to your neck.

He doesn’t bite you, not straight away, he sucks and licks at your neck first, leaving gentle kisses in between. He nips lightly at your skin, and you stifle a moan at it, not wanting him to know just how aroused you’re getting from the thought of him biting you. The way his mouth quirks against you has you doubting that you’re hiding anything from him though. Thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it and instead presses a single peck to your neck.

Pulling back, he looks you in the eyes one last time, wanting to check that you’re absolutely okay with this. When he’s satisfied, he nuzzles into your neck, you move your head to the side, offering him more room. His teeth lightly graze your skin before slowly sinking into your skin, the pain shocks you but dulls as he lathes over the spot with his tongue, licking at your blood.

It’s a new feeling, the ache of his teeth in your skin, it’s making you hazy. Tomas moans into your skin both from the taste and because you’ve begun absentmindedly grinding down into his lap, seeking friction. When he pulls back, he moves to see your reaction, to make sure you’re still okay.

In all honesty, it doesn’t feel like he drank that much from you, “I thought you would take… more.”

“Mmm, I want to bite you elsewhere,” he moves in and continues to lick at the blood left behind.

Seemingly keeping true to his word, he shuffles to move you. He’s careful as he does, laying you down against the couch gently. Getting himself comfortable, he leans over you, a smile prominent on his lips. Your clothes are his next focus, his hands pulling at you. You want to help him but as you rise he places a hand on your chest and lightly pushes you back down.

Arching your back, you make it easier for him to take off your shirt, “Don’t overdo it.”

“Mhm,” he mumbles in mindless agreement, though he’s not really listening now, too busy looking at your tits.

“Tomas.”

His eyes flick to yours, “Sorry dear, what did you say?”

Squinting at him, you repeat, “I said, don’t overdo it.”

“I am fine,” he leans back to show you wear he had been injured, “Look, already healing better.”

It is, it’s still there and looks irritated but the minimal amount of blood he took from you seems to have helped a great deal. It’s less open and for that you’re thankful but it still has to be tender, “Just be careful.”

“Someone might mistake that for you caring about me,” he has a giddy look in his eyes.

Smiling at him, you say, sheepishly, “Well, I might not go that far.”

He hums at you with a slight smile on his face, not believing you. His hands move to your lower half, pulling off your bottoms, your underwear are tugged off along with them. He’s not wasting any time tonight, eager to have you naked underneath him.

Maybe if he were to give you a little time to think, you’d feel more embarrassed about how he’s stripped you bare and pulled your legs apart all within the span of a minute but he’s not giving you that time, he’s already shuffling himself in between your legs. Your legs which have been haphazardly thrown over his shoulders, you could’ve sworn you just told him to be careful.

He trails his lips along your inner thigh, his touch so gentle it makes a shiver run down your spine, “Can I still bite you?”

You feel fuzzy, his words not completely registering when his breath is tickling your inner thigh, “You can do whatever you like.”

A big grin breaks out across his face, you can feel it, you don’t get a chance to correct your statement or make a snarky remark though, he’s already sinking his teeth into the soft expanse of your thigh. You jump slightly but he holds you steady, growls leave him, clearly enjoying this immensely.

When he parts, he licks and sucks at your thigh, not letting your blood go to waste, “Still with me?”

You feel a little hazy still, but you don’t know if that’s from him biting you or the position he’s put you in, he’s so close to your pussy and you want so badly for him to just put his mouth on you–

“­–Hey,” his voice cuts off your thoughts and you look down to him, “Are you okay?”

“Mhm, yeah, I’m all good,” your head flops back onto the couch once you’ve answered him.

He sighs, “Mmm, is that so?” His thumbs move to your cunt and spread your lips apart so he can hungrily gaze at you on complete display, “You okay with me leaving you like this?...” His thumb runs through your slick heat, “…Or do you want me to do something to help?”

He places his thumb over your clit, not moving, just keeping steady pressure and it’s driving you insane. You want more, you need him to do more, he’s being purposefully cruel now, he wants it just as bad as you do. He also likes to hear how much you want him though and he’s not going to give you any sort of relief before you do.

On another day, maybe you hold out longer, tease him back, but today you’re all too happy to bend to his will, “Tomas…” His eyes shoot to yours, “I missed you.”

The look in his eyes lower and a huffed breath leaves him, “You play dirty.”

“I wasn’t trying to– ah,” you get cut off by his tongue licking at you, up the length of your cunt.

Genuinely, you were trying to give into him, but you seem to have said something that carried more weight than you expected it too. His tongue drags heavy on your pussy, flicking at your clit just to watch your thighs shake and body twitch. Unconsciously, your thighs go to close around his head, he moves he hands to keep them apart. He doesn’t stop there though, he pulls them open and up, almost folding you half.

His mouth doesn’t leave you, in fact, his tongue enters you, his nose presses into your clit, he’s trying to taste as much of you as he can. The wet slurping sounds he’s making are obscene, the room filled with how he laps at your cunt. He’s getting you close to finishing embarrassingly quickly but just when you think you could cum like this, he pulls his mouth back and bites into your other thigh.

Two of his fingers slip into your cunt just as his teeth puncture your skin, the simultaneous feelings are like a gut punch, you twitch and go to cover your mouth as his thumb reaches your clit and circles it harshly. A loud moan slips from you and is caught by your hands, the resulting sound a muffled cry. You cum around his fingers, your thighs shaking with it, Tomas moans into your skin, feeling your cunt pulse around his fingers and your blood coating his tongue, it has his control slipping.

Retracting his teeth and fingers from you at the same time, he slips the two fingers that were in you into your mouth. You take them, glassy eyes looking at him, your blood stains his mouth now, he was messier about his last bite. Slipping your tongue between his two fingers makes him shiver, the look in his eyes is dumb and sated.

When he pulls his fingers from you, he watches intently as they leave your mouth, he trails them, wet and slick down your chin, neck, sternum, all the way back down to your cunt. You gasp against the sensitive feeling, he pushes them inside you, crooking them up, his thumb already back on your clit.

“I really do love watching you cum,” he mumbles mindlessly. Going to say his name results in a pathetically moaned sound leaving you, it makes him smile deviously, “Trying to say something, dearest?”

You shake your head no at him, huffing out small sounds as his fingers pick up speed, his eyes never leave yours, intent on watching you the whole time, wanting to see every expression you make.

He leans down, free hand holding himself up, “Tell me again.” Your thoughts are garbled, and your eyes get lazy, unfocused, “Stay with me, I want to hear it again – how you missed me.”

You focus back on him, words slurring slightly, “Missed you so much, Tomas– hah.”

His fingers speed up again, his thumb harsh on your clit, you spasm around his fingers, your stomach pulling tight.

“I missed you too,” he smiles at you, his fangs showing through it.

Your back arches against the couch, “I– I was –mmphf– I was worried about you~”

Tomas curses at your confession, his head swimming with affection for you, he pulls his fingers from you suddenly and you whimper at the loss, “No– no, don’t be sad, I just can’t fucking wait any longer.”

The overwhelming need for you has overpowered him, he’s shucking his pants down his thighs carelessly. Pulling his cock out and immediately guiding it to your cunt, he slips the head of it through your folds a few times before slowly entering you. He’s trying to take his time and be gentle, he really is but he’s so suddenly desperate to be balls deep he can’t seem to find the patience to open you up for him more.

He makes it easier for you though, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit. It’s completely unexpected when you cum on the first few inches of his cock like this, a bitten back moan leaving you as shudders run through you. He had gotten you so close before retracting his fingers, the fullness now and way he was playing with you had your forgotten orgasm being not so forgotten.

“Tomas– it’s –ah–” You can’t even get out what you want to say, though you’re not entirely sure what you wanted to say. Cumming on his dick makes you go cross eyed, your hips moving to grind up into him, wanting so badly to be stuffed full as you orgasm.

He grunts out, “Fuck–” before taking advantage of your gushing pussy and slips balls deep, a loud and deep moan leaving him, “So incredibly slick, my dear,” he grinds down into you, his pelvis digging into your clit, he’s trying to give you a moment to breathe but he desires friction. “You never cease to amaze me, so incredibly perfect… responsive.”

Ironically, your cunt twitches at his words and a devilish smirk makes an appearance on his face, as if to gloat about his previously accurate statement, “I don’t know… if I can handle another,” your eyes are wet and unthinking when you look up at him.

“You can handle another,” he groans, dragging his cock out at the same time as he speaks, “Been so good to me tonight, I’m just returning the favour.”

He slams back into you, a high-pitched whine leaving you, matched against his low one, “I jus wanted to help –mmph–”

“And help you did, so incredibly helpful,” his words are coming quickly as he starts thrusting into you more consistently, “Taste absolutely divine, dear. Few moments there –ngh– I was scared of hurting you, you’re such an overwhelming presence in all facets of my life.”

Lewd and wet slapping sounds follow each of his thrusts, his hips fucking into you at a speed that makes your head spin. You’re not really capable of responding to him anymore, you’re as good as gone. His cock hits so deep inside you, he tickles your cervix, a thrilling kind of pain following each of his deep thrusts.

“You wanna know something?” He leans in, getting impossibly closer, deeper.

He’s waiting for your response, “Yeah– hah– mmph~”

He engulfs your mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue in your mouth before you can really register that he’s kissed you. He’s heated and rushed; kissing you in such a needy way that you can’t even keep up with him. When he pulls back a string of saliva connects the both of your mouths, he licks his lower lip, disconnecting it.

“I could smell how fucking wet you were getting each time I bit you,” he huffs breathlessly into your ear, “Fresh arousal drenching your cunt every time my teeth sunk into you, do you know how hard it is to focus on not taking much blood from you when you’re getting horny from it?”

“S–sorry,” you apologise but your pussy clenches down on him, his words working you up.

“No, don’t apologise, dear. You did nothing wrong, nothing.” He traces wet and sloppy kisses down the side of your face and neck, “I just meant to say, I think you would cum awful hard if I were to bite you at the same time, don’t you?”

Before you can comprehend the conclusion he’s given you, his hips switch from slamming into you, to grinding when he re-enters, the added stimulation makes you stupid, slurred words of praise and his name leaving you. Just as you’re about to climax, he bites into your neck, he doesn’t drink from you this time, he just sinks his teeth into your flesh. The pain rockets through you and you finish all over his cock, fresh, creamy, cum leaving you and leaking down his dick, a white ring left at the base of it.

The sound he makes is feral and not human, deep animalistic groans leaving him at the way you squeeze his dick so tight. He forces his way through all the sensations he’s feeling, fucking into your tight, spasming cunt, the slick of you making it easier. You’re so fucked open on him that he’s getting dizzy thinking about it, about how well you take his fat cock.

Raising his upper half, he looks down to where he’s fucking you, at the mess you’ve made, at the bite marks on your thighs, it’s all driving him wild. There’s very clear evidence of him being here and it’s sending pleasure down his spine to his core.

His dick jerks and twitches and as he looks at your face, at the gooey look in your eyes, at the unshed tears sitting in your waterline, he cums. It forces its way through him, the sensation almost making him spiral, he’s already cumming when he remembers what he wanted to do.

Pulling out, he aims the rest of his cum at your cunt and thighs, wanting to leave evidence of him all over you. He almost whimpers at the sight of your pussy leaking and being coated in him. Absently, he takes his hand and places it in his spend, smearing it up your stomach and grabbing your tit, leaving evidence of it there too.

You gasp at how he grabs at your breast, his slick forefinger and thumb tweaking your nipple, “Tomas–” You moan out to him.

His eyes shoot to yours and he looks sheepish, “Sorry…I got carried away.”

Mumbling lazily, you ask, “Are you okay?”

He bites a laugh at your question, “Are you kidding? I feel fantastic.” He moves in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, “How do you feel? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay…tired,” you wrap your arms around him, pulling him down into you for a hug.

He breathes in the scent of you, committing it to memory, “You should sleep, I’ll carry you to bed–”

You object, cutting him off, “–No… you’ll be gone when I wake up, I really did miss you…”

He can’t hide the way your words make him glow with joy, “How about, we shower and see how you feel?”

“Mmmkay, you’re gonna need to do all the work though…” He’s already picking you up off the couch halfway through your sentence, “…Don’t think I can walk.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” he chuckles, carrying you off down the hallway.

˚₊‧⁺⋆༄

IT IS DONE !!!!!! MWUAHAHA!!! i hope you enjoyed it :3

#tomas x reader #tomas x reader smut #tomas x you #tomas x you smut #tomas vrbada x reader smut #tomas vrbada smut #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke x reader #smoke x reader smut #smoke smut

[berensteinsmonster]

coverted Toppats to Cowwoys for the hv au

The Cowwoy Posse are a group of cowboys, usually on the outskirts of Red Mesa, who do everything in their power to do good.

Usually they're sent on missions to go help people :) They regularly fight petty criminals or more bust organized crime factions. Or they travel to other locations if trouble arises there. Though not all Cowwoys use the airship or train, if they're skilled enough (such as being of ranger rank) they ride their own horses. Crease and Piercings have their own and they're named Crane and Hoops respectively, those horses are also lesbians.

All Cowwoy members are also required to learn basic survival skills, such as foraging or hunting, for when they take trips across the Red Mesa that'll quickly deplete their resources.

If there's one crime syndicate that have really gotten the most of their attention towards dismembering, it'd be the TVOGXART corporation. And all Cowwoys hate the TVOG.

They're not swindled or easily tricked by promises of riches, because they REGULARLY beat up rich people who are affiliated with the TVOGXART corporation. They've all sworn to do good because as bleak as things can be they want to prove that there is a beating heart of kindness in a world that regularly profits off of misery.

They are kind and they are good. because the hv au society wants people to believe that is no longer possible.

Thank you to @digital-roots for sending me 5 toppats to turn into cowwoy members :) I had a lot of fun doing these, I really love making good-ified mirror characters just as much as I like making evil dopplegangers. I'm so proud of how these guys turned out. like look at them. Theyre so cool and awesome and theyre gonna save the fucking day. even though the world they live in worsens, it's in Cowwoy honor to still try and make it a bit more bareable.

Bonus: original draft sketches

btw just take the messages as like, unpolished draft only for the descriptions of the characters. I was just playing around with the idea process. I think Piercings knows how to use a phone and Ms Hero is (eventually) fine with the Regal Bronzeage since that guy's an actual superhero. The more the merrier. two cakes

Also ignore the message where it says ms hero ues he/him cuz i updated it. ms hero uses he/she because while his pronouns may interchange, her sense of JUSTICE!!! does not :)

Bonus: hey its her sidekicks The Fairy and Wilhelm Krieschen!!! they will get their own post eventually

#berenmon art #my art #henry ventriloquest au #Carol Crease #hv au Piercings #Thomas Worcestershire #hv au Ms Hero #Good ol Macbeth #carol cross #thsc earrings #thomas chestersire #thsc mr villain #mr macbeth #thsc mr macbeth #thsc art #the henry stickmin collection #the henry stickmin au #henry stickmin #thsc fanart #thsc au #the henry stickmin collection au #henry stickmin au #carol cross au #opposite au #mirror au

[seungkw1]

maestro — ljh // chapter 1

⛧ pairing: lee jihoon x afab!reader (reader uses she/her pronouns) ⛧ theme: fantasy, suggestive (18+ smut in future chapters) ⛧ chapter wc: 2.7k ⛧ warnings: minor knife violence ⛧ a/n: when i tell u that lee jihoon wrecked me sooooo bad this comeback !!!! the maestro mv was fully giving villain!woozi and my brain took that and absolutely ran with it. also, this is my first chapter fic!! much more to come, stay tuned <3

Your knowledge of the enemy is minimal, but what is known for certain is this: the Maestro is a dark and powerful sorcerer that is not to be trifled with - and you’ve just walked right into his trap.

You fucked up.

Your task was simple enough: sneak into the palace, steal the ring, and get the hell out. You’ve done countless jobs like this over the years - you're a professional for fuck’s sake. Sure, this gig was a bit more high-profile than usual, but nothing you couldn't handle. 

Yet somehow, they caught you. 

You rack your brain for a clue - something, anything, to indicate what went wrong. But you come up blank. Everything had gone according to plan (up until you found yourself surrounded by imperial guards with a knife at your throat, anyway), not a single detail overlooked. Something is off here, your instinct tells you. 

Here you are now, being forcefully escorted through the palace’s underlevels by a squad of imperial goons. The head goon hauls you through the dim hallways, his grip on your arm painfully tight, knife drawn and at the ready in case you were to try something foolish. A dark mask covers his lower face, so he's hard to get a read on, but you can tell he’s nothing more than a large, brainless oaf. You’ve single-handedly outwitted enemies like him in the past - but here, you are far too outnumbered. For the time being, you comply. 

You arrive at a large steel door, adorned only by a small barred window in its middle. With a rough shove the guard pushes you into the cell - you fall to the ground, your palms striking the cold stone floor. The hinges let out a horrid creaking sound before the door slams shut with a loud CLANG. You hear the clunking of a heavy chain, then the click of a padlock. Footsteps fade away as the imperial squad retreats - then, silence. You are all alone, trapped, imprisoned in this musty cell, somewhere in the depths of the Maestro’s palace. 

You sit on the hard ground, alone with your thoughts. The more you think about it, the only explanation is that this was a setup. But the Agency’s entire job is to sift through lies and misinformation; if this was a trap, there must be something larger at play - something elaborate, sinister. 

Unfortunately for you, you have nothing but time to try and piece together this puzzle. You lean your head against the stone wall, trying to figure out how the fuck you're gonna get yourself out of this mess. 

The absence of natural light leaves you with no way of telling time. The silence grows eerie. Your mind wanders, imagination soon running wild. You’ve heard of people who lose their minds within days of solitary confinement. Will that happen to me?, you can’t help but wonder. How long will I be here? Are they going to bring me food, or am I doomed to die of starvation? How did I even end up here? What are they planning to do with me? What if they forget about me? What if…

Your mind grows weary. You decide to lay down - no use in staying awake and overthinking. You rest your head on the gravelly floor - it’s uncomfortable, but your eyelids soon become heavy. You drift in and out of consciousness, strange visions and voices floating through your mind. Before long, you are asleep.

You’re running. You don’t know where to, but you are running through winding, endless corridors. Running from… something. You don’t know what. The sound of your racing heartbeat pounds in your ears, surpassed only by the heaving pants of your labored breathing. The neverending halls begin to expand around you - they grow larger and larger, disorienting your sense of perception. From behind, unsettling noises draw nearer and nearer: screeching echoes, thunderous crashes, wicked laughter. You run, but it’s not fast enough. The horrid sounds infiltrate your mind, reverberating through your skull so loudly you feel as if your head is about to explode. Suddenly, through blurred vision you see the hallway’s end; at it stands a cloaked figure, facing away from you. You can’t see anything else of the entity, but you sense the dark energy that surrounds it. Dread wells in the pit of your stomach, filling you with terror - but, for some reason, you are drawn to the malevolent being. Their presence is magnetic, alluring - frightening, but seductive. You press on - you don’t know why, but you must get to them. Your legs feel as if they’ve turned to lead - each footstep slowing you down further. You’re almost there, almost, almost… finally - the figure is within arm’s reach. In excruciating slow motion, you extend your hand toward them. Your fingertips graze the black cloak, its woven texture coarse against your skin. Your hand glides over the thick fabric - you close your grip around their shoulder, forcefully turning them around to face you. You lift your gaze to look at their face-

BANG.

You jolt awake in a panic. Disoriented, heart pounding, it takes you a moment to realize you’re still in the cold, dark prison cell. Faint light enters the room through the now-open doorway. Standing in it is a tall, thin man - you can barely make out his face, but his presence is unsettling. He peers down at you, his piercing eyes practically boring a hole into your head. 

“Come with me,” is all he says. 

You blink dully a few times, still not fully lucid. You try to process what all is happening, but your dream (nightmare?) weighs heavily at the forefront of your mind. The odious man quickly becomes irritated.

“GET UP!” he bellows at you.

You rise, stumbling to your feet. Two guards enter from behind him, swiftly seizing hold of your arms and yanking you out of the cell. They halt in front of the man. An unpleasant scowl seems permanently engraved on his face. He smirks at you.

“Well aren’t you pretty.”

You spit on the ground in front of his feet. The man glares at you with vitriol. He draws a short sword from the depths of his cloak, pointing it at your face. He traces the razor-sharp tip lightly across your cheek.

“Act like that again,” he sneers. With a quick flick of the wrist he delivers a small slash into your cheekbone. You barely flinch.

“And I’ll carve some very permanent scars into that pretty little face of yours.”

You stare at him, but say nothing. With a huff he turns, sauntering off into the hallway.

“Come along now. The Maestro wants to see you.”

—

The first thing you notice upon entering the chamber is the hundreds of candles set alight, illuminating the otherwise unlit space. The second is the hooded figure seated upon the throne at the room’s distant end, reclining arrogantly - watching you intensely. 

You hadn’t seen their face, but you know: it is the figure from your dream.

The guards stand you before the Maestro. You still can’t see their face. The thin man who summoned you steps forward, giving a small bow to his master.

“The thief, Your Majesty.”

The Maestro leans forward. Their face, previously shadowed, becomes illuminated in the candlelight: you see a man, much younger than anticipated - and strikingly beautiful. His eyes, adorned with dark makeup, peer up and down your body, studying you. He rises, nonchalantly descending the few steps before him; the clacking of his boots against the dark marble echoes through the otherwise silent chamber. He strolls toward you, maintaining eye contact, coming to a stop within mere inches of you. Slowly he removes his hood, revealing a head of long pale tresses. Up close, he is even more stunning. 

The man lifts his hand, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tilts your head, observing the cut on your cheek.

“I told you to bring me the prisoner unharmed,” he scolds his servant. His gaze doesn’t stray from your face.

The subordinate’s face drops. “Apologies, my liege,” he responds hesitantly. “I-”

“Leave.”

He says nothing else. The servant’s eyes darken with fear. “My liege-”

The man before you motions to the guards. “Take him away.”

The guards seize the man, dragging him from the chamber in silence. The door closes with a heavy thud. You are now alone with the enemy. 

Your existing knowledge of the mysterious individual known as the Maestro is minimal - you have a fairly high level of clearance within the Agency, but even there the details are sparse. Rumors abound, but what is known for certain is this: the Maestro is a dark and powerful sorcerer, and is not to be trifled with.

You watch the man before you intently as he turns on his heels, meandering casually across the room, hands behind his back. Undoubtedly, his presence is intimidating; but admittedly he does not seem to be nearly the loathsome monster you’ve been led to believe he is. Regardless, you will not be letting your guard down. 

“My apologies for the poor treatment you have received thus far,” the man starts as he resumes his seat upon the large, ornate chair. A bowl of deep-purple grapes sits on the table beside him; he reclines again, reaching for the supple fruits. He plucks a particularly round grape from its stem, drawing it to his lips - he places it upon his tongue, holding it there momentarily before biting down, its juicy flesh bursting within his mouth. He chews, his eyes fixated upon you. He swallows before continuing.

“I had to ensure you were who I thought you were, and not some irrelevant member of the Agency.”

You grimace, displeased to learn that your suspicions were correct. He did know about the mission, and presumably the Agency’s agenda too. If that’s the case, then how much else does he know…

You’re itching to ask him who exactly he thinks you are, but you hold your tongue. You know better than to engage with the enemy unless absolutely necessary.

“But now that I am certain, I assure you you will receive nothing but the finest accommodations.” 

You say nothing. He eats another grape. You’ve been staring for far too long when you realize his plush lips seem to have you in a trance; you quickly return to glaring at him.

A few moments of silence pass. The intense eye contact he sustains stirs up a sensation within you - not fear, not worry, but rather… intrigue. You know the man is dangerous, yet here you are - simply captivated by him. You silently curse yourself for allowing emotion to infiltrate your mind like this. You’re smarter than this. Get your shit together.

“Refusing to speak, I see. Very well then. But aren’t you curious?” He leans forward, taunting you. “You know I hold the answers you seek, y/n.”

Your stomach drops. He just called you by your real name. Members of the Agency are exclusively referred to by their code names - even amongst colleagues, true identities remain concealed. How does he…

Your face remains stoic, indifferent, but he smirks. He can read you like an open book, and he knows you know it. 

“Go on, question me. You must see there is no threat here - I am unarmed. You may speak freely.”

You know that’s an absolute crock of bullshit. A cunning sorcerer is never truly unarmed - god knows what he could conjure up in the blink of an eye. But, admittedly he does have a point. You very well may die here - might as well get some fucking answers first. 

“How did you know I was coming?” you ask coldly.

A sly grin appears on his face. “Ah, she speaks! Good girl.” You scowl at him; he continues. “It’s simple, really - it was me who allowed the Agency to ‘discover’ the location of the palace. I made sure their little reconnaissance efforts would lead them to send their most skilled operative to retrieve the ring.”

“You wanted the ring to be stolen.”

“No. I wanted the ring to be stolen by you.”

You pause at his unexpected words. What?

Every neuron in your brain is screaming at you to be silent, don’t play into his little games. But you open your mouth anyway.

“And why me?” 

“Oh, I’ve had my eyes on you for quite some time, darling.”

Your stomach jolts. He said it so nonchalantly, as if he was telling you the weather rather than admitting he’s been watching your every move for god knows how long.

You stare at him incredulously. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He simply shakes his head. “Patience - you will learn the whole story in due time. Guards!”

A new pair of imperials, much more polished and intelligent-looking than their brutish counterparts you’ve dealt with thus far, enter the room. 

“Please escort my guest to her bedchamber for the night. I must retire.”

The guards steer you toward the hallway. You follow without resistance. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” the man calls as you step through the doorway. You glimpse back: he is seated in the same position, watching you intensely. You catch a curious look in his eye, one you can’t quite read. He disappears as the heavy door shuts behind you.

—

As promised, your new accommodations are satisfactory - lavish, even. You’ve never seen a room with so many ornate embellishments, nor a bed with so many cushions and fine coverings. The washroom was equally fanciful, offering a large tub and luxurious-looking towels. Enticing, certainly, but at this point you are exhausted, and simply want to sleep anywhere that isn’t a cold stone floor. You lay upon the bed, not even bothering to retreat under the covers. Within seconds, you drift off to sleep.

You find yourself in the same hallway again - this time, not running, but merely standing behind the cloaked figure. You extend your hand, grabbing his shoulder and turning him round. You raise your eyes, meeting his gaze - but where his eyes should be, you only found blackness. You stare into the void of his sockets, hypnotized in fear, their darkness seeming to infiltrate your soul. He draws a dagger from his cloak, shoving you into the wall and placing it against your throat. You feel its pressure, but it does not break skin. He draws his face into yours, tenderly placing his lips upon your cheekbone - right atop your freshly-scarring cut. He kisses you - slowly, fervidly, his lips burning against your skin, but instead of pain you feel only pleasure. His free hand wraps around the small of your back, pulling your torso into his, holding you tightly against his blisteringly-hot form. The dagger remains perilously at your throat, a constant reminder of the power he holds over you. His lips parts from your cheek as he draws his head back, looking at you once again, the abysmal darkness of his stare penetrating through you. Slowly, he leans in, his lips converging on yours. Your mouth reaches for his, wanting for his kiss, yearning for his taste- 

Your eyes open. There are no windows in your room, but you get the sense that it is morning, midday perhaps. Dazed, you try to wake yourself up, but your mind keeps drifting back to your dream - to the man who has somehow infiltrated your subconscious. You raise your hand to your face, running your fingertips over your wound, but…

Quickly, you sit up, tossing your feet to the floor and heading toward the washroom. You approach the mirror, peering your face in close to the glass. Where there should have been a fresh scar: nothing. Not a mark on your skin. 

You frown. You don’t know what this means, but you suspect nothing good will come of it. 

A knock comes from the door. You hear the turn of the lock, followed by the creaking of the door swinging open. A young female servant enters, carrying a bundle of fabrics. A second follows, placing a tea set on the small table.

“You are expected at supper today,” the first woman informs you curtly. She places the fabrics upon your bed. “Wash up and dress in fresh clothes.” The two leave swiftly without another word.

You let out a sigh of annoyance. So this is how it’s going to be then. Fine - I’ll play along with his little games. You glance back at the mirror. A tired face looks back at you, grimacing.

Not like I have much of a choice anyway.

⛧ chapter 2: coming soon ⛧

#ren's fics ੈ♡₊˚•. #lee jihoon #woozi #woozi smut #woozi fics #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #svt smut #svt fics #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen smut #seventeen fics #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #woozi x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for deadnaming my ex-friend as a coping mechanism?

I’m trans (ftm 18) before people immediately vote YTA. That doesn’t make me automatically correct, but hopefully it convinces people to actually read the story. (Or you can skip to the TDLR)

Not going into detail because it’s not super relevant. When I was younger, I had this really shitty manipulative friend. All the typical stuff, told me they would hurt themselves if I left them or did something they didn’t like, said my other friends were faking their mental illnesses, that I wasn’t actually trans / was faking, lied about having cancer etc etc whatever. Sounds really obvious they were bad news looking back but you know how it is.

Me and “Mila” were both friends with them, and both managed to finally cut them off with each others support, about 2 years ago. Needless to say, this relationship really fucked both of us up.

Last year, Mila moved a few states away. We still keep in touch over text, and occasionally the topic of Ex-Friend comes up, especially if she’s going through a breakdown. About the same time she moved away, Ex-Friend came out as non binary and goes by a new name.

I still have to go to a smallish school with Ex-Friend. It’s difficult being in the same room as them so you can imagine why this is the problem.

However, since coming out, they look pretty different and have a different name….it’s kind of easier to pretend like I don’t even know them.

I also know they were probably really going through it when we used to be friends, and in a lot of ways it feels better to attribute all those bad actions to their Deadname, someone who doesn’t exist anymore, and I never have to see. Separating “Shitty Ex-Friend” from “Person I have to see most days at school” really helps me like…go to school and exist in the same place as them without totally breaking down.

So if me and Mila ever talk about them, I refer to them by their deadname (still correct pronouns, if that makes any difference). Mila does know they came out as NB (I mentioned it to her), but doesn’t know that they changed their name so she isn’t complicit in this or anything it’s 100% on me. I don’t deadname them to anyone else if I ever need to talk about them, just Mila.

I know this is a stupid coping mechanism but does it make me an asshole?

On one hand, I don’t think people need to be “good people” to be correctly gendered — intentionally deadnaming someone because you don’t like them is shitty. On the other hand, that’s not why I’m doing this, and my actions aren’t realistically impacting them or any other trans person, because I’m only using their deadname with one person who lives very far away, won’t ever run into them, and won’t talk about them with anyone else.

TDLR; I still call my manipulator by their deadname while talking to one specific person about them, because it helps me pretend that they’re a different person when I have to be in the same small school as them.

#aita #am i the asshole #self harm cw

[mentally-a-slut]

Hellooo, like I said I would, I am here to send a request your way! I hope it's not too boring, but could I ask you to write for "My breath just made you quiver. Can you imagine what my tongue will do?" with Gale saying it to Tav/reader? (Yes I absolutely had his "practiced tongue" in mind when I wrote this-)

I'd like it with a female Tav, but you are free to change that up if you prefer. I am simply here for the wizard and your writing😂

Teehee, I've been waiting for this one! So sorry this took so long, my internet was out for a few hours and then it took me a while to gather the motivation to open my blog. This one is pretty short and kinda gets straight into the action, but it's the best I can do rn. I hope it's okay! Tysm for the request, and I hope you like it.

Summary: Tav finds out how practiced Gale's tongue really is.

Warnings: smut! oral (f!receiving), whiny Tav, kind of dom!Gale but not really, Gale is cocky, Tav gives brat vibes, she/her pronouns and name Tav used but I left it neutral so you can imagine her as anyone or as yourself, smut starts below the cut!

Rating: E

She hadn't planned for her day to end up this way, but she wasn't complaining.

Tav had started the day ready to face the adventures in store, prepared for anything. It had been tiring as usual, ruthless battles that seemed to pop up at every turn as their group traveled. They survived, miraculously, and made camp just as the sun set.

She had gone to see Gale to chat, just as she always did in the evenings. Tav made a routine of checking in on all of her companions at the end of each day, and she told herself that she didn't favor anyone. Which was of course, a blatant lie, as she always looked forward to her check-ins with the wizard the most.

She had saved him for last, wanting to end her day with a pleasant conversation with a handsome man. She wasn't sure exactly what she had said to steer the conversation into what was now their current situation, but decided to just accept her fortune.

Besides, it was far too difficult to coherently form thoughts when her favorite wizard was knelt between her legs, mouth hovering inches away from her throbbing cunt.

His warm breath brushed her clit, sending a jolt of arousal up her spine that spread through her whole body. Then, his hoarse voice murmured in a low tone, teasing her. "My breath just made you quiver. Can you imagine what my tongue will do?"

She stifled a whine at his words, glaring down at the man. "You talk too much."

Before he had time to retort, she dug her fingers into his long hair, pressing him forward. He, for once, took the hint, and finally flicked his tongue out against her dripping folds.

"Fuck!" Her fingers tightened in his hair as his tongue flattened against her, writhing teasingly around her entrance. He hummed in amusement, which only served to frustrate her more as the vibration intensified the pleasure.

With a quick flick of his tongue against her clit, he finally dove into her, togue exploring her soft insides greedily. Just as fast as it had started, it was over, and he suddenly pulled back. Tav whipped her head up to glare at him, where her eyes settled on his teasing smirk. "Be a good girl and ask nicely."

"Fuck that!"

His hands squeezed her thighs as he moved back, preparing to get up. "Well then, I guess you don't want this bad enough."

She gaped at him, scoffing as he moved away. Just as he was about to leave, she groaned, giving into his ploy. "Wait!"

He froze, raising an eyebrow at her. "Yes?"

She sighed, saying quietly: "Please."

He knelt down again, large hands returning to her spread thighs. "What was that?"

"You know what I said!"

He pulled away again slightly, and Tav frantically called to him. "Please! Please, Gale."

His smile was insufferable, eyes glinting with satisfaction and desire. "Good girl. Say it one more time?"

She opened her mouth to protest, but hesitated as she looked at him poised between her legs, his eyes flickering to her cunt, gaze filled with hunger. Her stomach tightened with even more arousal at his expression, seeing him so eager to please her. "Please. Please, I wanna feel your tongue- fuck!"

His tongue had returned to her immediately, caressing her fold with a newfound vigor. Her words failed her, his practiced movements rendering her to soft sighs and whines as he tasted her.

She gasped when his lips wrapped around her clit at the same time as a finger plunged into her, sending a wave of intense pleasure over her. He didn't hesitate, relentlessly assaulting her clit as he plunged his finger into her at a ruthless pace. Her brain had no time to catch up, blinded by the sheer pleasure of his movements.

Another fingers joined his first one, pace never faltering. His other hand held onto her thigh tightly, preventing her legs from clenching around him. Her muscles tensed as he continued his heavenly movements, stomach forming knots as his fingertips brushed against a spongy spot deep inside her.

She looked down at him when she felt a loss of sensation, his lips pulling away from her swollen clit. Her eyes met his darkened ones, and she couldn't help but moan as his fingers started making a come hither motion inside her, coaxing her impossibly close to her breaking point.

She felt his lips press soft kisses against the inside of her thigh as he sped up, his eyes transfixed on her fucked out expression. Tav struggled to keep her head upright, staring into his eyes as his fingertips pushed her over the edge, triggering her orgasm.

A string of curses fell from her lips, body trembling as he slowly coaxed her through it, but she managed to hold his gaze.

"Look at you, so pretty coming apart on my fingers. Such a good girl for me."

His low words of praise brought her back to earth, blurred vision focusing in on his darkened eyes. She barely even noticed as he carefully removed his fingers, whispering praise to her as he loved up to press his lips to hers.

Her mind was empty, only capable of think of him, of his fingers inside her, his lips melding perfectly with his, how his body felt pressed up against hers. She sighed into the kiss, reaching up to cradle his jaw. His kiss was slow and loving, yet held such desire.

She whined when he pulled back, pouting up at him. He chuckled, his hand squeezing her hip playfully. "Don't worry, love. There's plenty more where that came from."

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 gale #fem!reader #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #afab reader #azi's creations #gale x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #x reader smut #one shot #smut #bg3 x reader #bg3 smut #gale x tav #gale smut #female reader #x reader #x tav #tav #bg3 tav

[bumblesimagines]

i just like having sex with you sometimes. that's all. let's set some ground rules. so… how do we do this? Sarah Cameron

i just like having sex with you sometimes. that's all.

let's set some ground rules.

so… how do we do this?

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

and so the sequel becomes a holy trinity

Sarah Cameron was a pretty girl. Everyone knew it, whether they acknowledged it with awe, envy, or lust, everyone knew the Cameron genes worked like magic. The button nose, the full lips, the sun-kissed skin, the luscious hair that was a mix of blonde and brown strands, the dark brown eyes. The talk of the town, the pretty princess of Figure Eight, the beloved darling of the Cameron family. Sarah Cameron had no business being in the Cut. Hell, she had no business hanging out with JJ's troublemaking friends. She had no business seeking him out, and no business lying in the bed of a Maybank. Funny how the world worked, (Y/N) thought. 

Maybanks and Camerons weren't supposed to mix. They were from two different worlds. And yet...

Between the altercation between JJ and their father and Barry's rage over being jumped and robbed, (Y/N) had an ever-growing headache. He found himself glad JJ had beaten their father into near silence and fucked off before (Y/N) could get home, although he'd left him to patch their father up and deal with quiet, angered mutterings. His father luckily seemed either too exhausted or too drunk to bother him much, leaving him to spend his free day in his room listening to music while he gathered the will to get a Tylenol and step out into the world. He could use a drink or two or three. Maybe he'd stop by a bar and listen to Barracuda Mike's tales about his international dealings until the alcohol knocked him unconscious. 

Following in Daddy Dearest's footsteps. Typical.

His father staggered into the doorway, slamming his fist twice against the old wooden door with a sneer. (Y/N)'s heart skipped a beat and he tentatively paused the music, eyeing the subtle way his father swayed from side to side. Nobody could make him revert to childhood like Luke did, back when he'd cradle a crying JJ while JJ's mom and Luke got into screaming matches over one thing or the other. "Mind tellin' me why the hell there's a Cameron standin' on our goddamn porch? I don't want no problems with Ward, (Y/N)." 

"Jesus," (Y/N) exhaled, pulling the earbuds from his ears and standing up. "Which Cameron, Dad? The idiot or the chick?"

"The chick." Fuckin' Camerons. Fuckin' Sarah. "If Ward catches wind of his little girl strutting aroun' here half-naked-"

"What are you even talking about?" (Y/N) tossed his phone aside and sucked his teeth, slipping past his father and hearing those familiar heavy footsteps follow him to the front door. Sure enough, there stood Sarah Cameron, her head tilted out toward the marsh and arms folded over her bare stomach. Christ. 

"I want no problems. Understood, boy?" Luke hissed in his ear, moving past him and sparing the blonde a glance before he walked toward his truck. (Y/N) inhaled deeply and ran a hand over his face, finding relief in the fact his father coincidentally needed to head into town under the guise of an errand, when they both knew Luke only ran 'errands' when he needed a hit of something strong. Probably needed something to take his mind off the bruises on his face. 

"I shouldn't have to explain why showing up here, on the Cut, dressed in a bikini top and shorts is a shit idea, Sarah." 

"I was going to the beach with some- whatever, it doesn't matter. I... I wanted to talk about the other day, alright? You know, when you basically yelled at me-" 

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Next time, instead of showing up, you get my number from one of the Pogues and you text me, alright? The guys my dad hangs out with call girls like you jailbait, Sarah. They're sleazy fucks who couldn't care less about where you come from." (Y/N) huffed, but regardless, he pushed the front door open enough for her to step inside, eyes following the cloud of dust left behind by his father's truck as it sped down the road. 

The Maybank's home was hardly anything to look at but (Y/N) managed to keep it clean, at least whenever Hurricane Luke didn't pass through. The general upkeep, and frankly everything else, fell on his shoulders with JJ gone half the time and Luke too intoxicated to care about the world around him. Just about every piece of furniture was old, passed down from Maybank to Maybank without so much as a repair or restoration. At the very least, trying to fix the broken things at a young age had given him some pretty decent skills. He couldn't do much about the holes in the walls and doors, though. 

"It's my day off, Sarah. I'd like to spend it without stressing over any of the bullshit that's been going on the past couple of days, 'kay? Say your piece and go off with your boytoy, princess. I want to have a beer in hand by noon so make it quick." (Y/N) sat back on the armrest of the worn couch, crossing his arms and watching the girl study her surroundings. Sarah slipped her tote bag off her shoulder and set it on another seat, leaning back against the barely used dining table. Great. Definitely wasn't going to be quick.

"I didn't appreciate you getting in my face, for starters. It was rude and unnecessary and I wasn't even given a chance to explain our side of the story. We found the gold in the Crain house and we went to your job thinking you were there. You weren't, obviously. The old lady and Barry were and they set us up. Barry held us at gunpoint and tried robbing us. We defended ourselves. JJ went rogue and robbed Barry. We told him not to." Sarah kept her arms crossed as she spoke, finishing with a light shrug and slightly jutted lips. "I'm not a thief and I'm not a liar, either. I wanted to set the story straight." 

"You could've found diamonds or emeralds or rubies in that old ass house, and I still would've been pissed about this treasure hunt continuing. Big John is dead and you know how he died? Treasure hunting. John B wants to die like his dad? Fine by me. I stopped liking him a long time ago. But JJ? The idiot that I spent my whole life raising? I'm gonna make sure that little shit dies of old age. If you want to merrily march into danger with Routledge, fine, go for it. Keep my brother out of it."

"Why do you keep bringing JB up as if I like him? I already told you John B isn't my boyfriend. He's my friend, and yes, I care about him. I-I want to see him happy and that's why I'm helping him but-"

"Is that the only reason you're helping him?" (Y/N) asked, rising from the armrest and taking slow steps toward the blonde. Her brows lifted slightly and her lips twitched, slowly curling upward into that little smile despite how much she tried resisting it. She looked away from him defiantly and clicked her tongue, eyes trailing back toward him.

"Are you suggesting I became friends with John B just to see you? Quite the ego you've got, Maybank. I said I liked you, not that I'm obsessed with you." Her voice softened, laced with playfulness and a hint of mischief, her previous irritation (if she'd even been irritated to begin with) long gone. 

"I was gonna say you wanted to piss off Carrera but if that's the first thing that came to mind..." He trailed off, hearing her scoff in soft disbelief before she swatted at his shoulder halfheartedly. She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips slightly, peering up at him through her dark lashes. 

"You're a dick." She murmured, not nearly as offended as the last time she'd uttered those words.

"Yeah," He dipped down slightly, hands finding the back of her thighs and fingers digging into the warm plushness of her skin. Her hands landed on his shoulders, soft giggles leaving her as he lifted her onto the table, the wood creaking softly under the added weight. One hand slid up from his shoulder and curled around his neck, the tip of her nails slightly scraping against his skin. Sarah's skin flushed. "And the sky's blue."

"But what else is new, right?" Her lips stretched out into a smile before she leaned in, pressing them against his as his hands moved from her thighs to her hips, half his palms pressing against her skin and the other half against her denim shorts. He pulled her closer until she'd gone flush against him, her legs wrapping loosely around him. Her arm curled around his shoulder and her head tilted to the side, a muffled, flustered giggle leaving her when his teeth lightly dug into her bottom lip. His hand moved and pressed flat against her exposed back, trailing upward until his fingers found the bottom straps of the olive green bikini. With one swift tug, they went undone. 

There was a dizzying aspect to making out with a Cameron, he'd come to realize. Maybe it was the knowledge that her father could be considered one of the most influential men on the island or that his life could change for better or worse with just a word from her. It was an intoxicating feeling if he had to be honest. Sarah seemed to feel similarly considering her fingers dug into him and pulled him as close as possible, her breath escaping her in soft pants. She leaned back briefly and pulled her hands away, dipping them under her hair and undoing the straps keeping the bikini on her. She tossed it aside blindly and mushed their lips together again, arms coiling around him and body slightly lifting itself onto him. His hands returned to her thighs and he lifted her again, letting muscle memory kick in as he found his way back to his bedroom.

He really needed to stop hanging out with the Pogues. They were messing with his judgment.

At the very least, he'd spent his free day doing something fun, even if regret began to dig into his back. He was a Maybank. He lived up to the asshole playboy part of his family's reputation 'cause there was nothing better than messing around to take the stress off, but he never enjoyed toying with someone's heart. He'd made a rule in middle school after his first heartbreak to never knowingly get involved with anyone who actually liked him. The first time with Sarah hadn't broken that rule but now... 

"Can I ask what we are or will that ruin your mood?" Sarah's voice piped up, her lips dragging lightly over his shoulder. His fingertip ran up and down her spine, feeling the goosebumps along her skin while he stared at the ceiling. It felt grounding to have weight pressing him against the bed, even if it was Sarah Cameron of all people. 

"I just like having sex with you sometimes. That's all." He answered and she shifted, hands planting themselves on either side of his head and body lifting itself up slightly. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders, the ends tickling his cheek. 

"Sometimes?" She repeated with an arched brow. "You want to do this more often?"

"You're not bad for a virgin." He murmured. 

"Not one anymore, remember?" 

"Yeah, I remember." His hand moving along her back dipped under the covers that'd pooled around her hips, squeezing the skin hiding underneath. She flushed immediately and lowered herself back onto him, burying her warmed face in his neck and huffing. "You were pretty loud-"

"Okay." She groaned and lifted her head again, her reddened cheeks puffed out slightly. "So… how do we do this? Have you done this before?"

"Yeah, until she and I had a pregnancy scare. It was enough to make us block each other." (Y/N) answered, pushing himself up slightly and against the wall behind his pillows. Her legs tangled around his further, and her eyes widened at the revelation. "Let's set some ground rules. I'm going to give you my number and you'll use it whenever you want to see me. If anyone asks, it's just to keep in touch about JJ. Routledge probably thinks you've got the hots for him so I'd prefer if you didn't tell him or Thornton. Let those two go at each other. If you want to be spontaneous like today, you bring protection. I really don't need a little bastard running around right now." 

"I've been on birth control since freshmen year. Rose insisted on it."

"Good for you. My mom was on it when she decided to fuck around and find out and here I am now." He raised his brows at her. "Anyways... don't get your hopes up for anything, Sarah. I mean it. If you don't think you can handle it, that's fine. We're supposed to be having fun, not getting hurt by disappointment."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #the outer banks #outer banks #outer banks x you #outer banks x reader #outer banks x y/n #outer banks x male reader #obx #obx x reader #obx x you #obx x y/n #obx x male reader #sarah cameron #sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron x you #sarah cameron x male reader #luke maybank #jj maybank #obx x maybank!reader #sarah cameron x maybank!reader

[carmenized-onions]

Do the Thing | Toilet Repair

logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.

series history; Previous Chapter

portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).

you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.

“I think my name is just Tony now.”

You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.

“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”

This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.

Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.

You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”

She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”

“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”

“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”

“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”

“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”

“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”

She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”

“Good things?”

“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”

You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”

“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”

“The connection?”

“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”

“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”

She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”

Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”

“Ah. N’ then…”

“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”

She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”

“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”

“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”

You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.

“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”

You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”

She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.

Off to fix an exploded toilet.

“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”

Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.

“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.

“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”

“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”

You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”

“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”

“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”

He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”

“Not a Chef!”

“Term of Respect, Chef!”

You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.

You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.

Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.

“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.

“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”

Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”

“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”

“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”

You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”

“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y’know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”

That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”

His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...

She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”

You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”

“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.

“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?

You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”

“Did they?”

Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”

You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.

“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.

She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”

This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.

It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.

But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.

On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”

They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”

He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”

“Really gonna practice your set on me?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”

“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.

When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.

“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.

“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”

He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”

“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.

You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.

“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”

The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.

He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.

You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”

He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”

Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.

He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.

“What the fuck?”

Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.

“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.

“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”

“In The Beef!”

“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”

He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”

He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.

“Well?” You start.

“Well?” He astutely adds.

You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”

“The thing?”

You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.

“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”

“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”

You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.

Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.

“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”

He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.

He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.

He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.

He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”

“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.

“Huh?”

You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”

You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.

You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”

You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…

“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.

“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”

“Should get Fak on that, then.”

“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”

You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”

“If you’ll take it.”

“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”

“How’s that going?”

You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”

“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.

“How’s the second day open going?”

“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”

You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”

“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”

Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—

The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”

There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.

The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.

“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”

“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”

He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”

You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.

Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.

You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”

Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.

Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.

Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.

After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”

She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.

It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…

“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.

I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”

“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”

Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”

She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”

“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.

“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”

You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”

You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”

“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.

Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.

You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”

“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”

He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”

He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”

“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”

He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Do the thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.

“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”

He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”

Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.

“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.

He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”

You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”

He squints. “…How’re you—”

“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.

“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”

With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.

“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”

He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.

“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.

“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.

“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”

You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”

He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”

“Heard.”

You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”

He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“But in a way you can fix.”

“How?”

“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”

“You can’t take yourself?”

“Bitch?”

“Kidding. Heard. What else?”

“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.

He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”

“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”

“The chaos menu? She said—”

“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”

He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”

“You’re reactive.”

“No shit.”

“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”

He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”

“It had been 23 minutes.”

“Oh.”

“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”

“…No.”

“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”

He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.

“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”

He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”

“I will not.”

“You just said I was a catastrophe.”

“Fully not what I said.”

“I read between the lines.”

“Carmen.”

You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”

He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”

“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.

“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.

You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”

He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”

“First restaurant too?”

He nods again.

“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”

There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.

“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”

“You’ll do better next time.”

He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”

“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.

“At what? Self-help?”

He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”

You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.

You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.

…

When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.

“Fucking Mikey!”

“What’d he do this time?”

You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”

She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”

“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”

“Oh.”

“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”

“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”

“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”

“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”

She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.

“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.

“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”

She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”

All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.

“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.

“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”

You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”

“Does it?”

“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.

She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?

“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”

You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.

“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”

You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.

“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”

You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”

You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”

“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”

“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.

“But?”

“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”

She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”

“It’s done. I’ll be there.”

“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”

Fuck.

Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.

Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!

Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!

Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!

#carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto #the bear fx #carmy the bear #the bear x you #the bear #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction

[starstruckkittensweets]

Catch Me When I Fall

Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

fandom: bungo stray dogs

Star is tired. Star is worn out. Star desperately wants Chuuya to hug her and kiss her until she can't think straight. Star presents an extremely messy and personal fic to you. Star hopes you enjoy ❤️

warnings: fem reader (female pronouns used), job rejection letters, crying, insecurities, may be a bit choppy because I haven't written anything in a while (also it's very late and I'm sleepy) || words: 1.5k

The letter sits there in your hands, only a few short sentences long, but enough to make your heart shatter and your throat close up. 

After careful consideration…pursue other candidates…appreciate your time and effort…best of luck with future endeavors… 

You’ve read it three times so far, and each time sends another pang straight to your chest. The edges of the paper are soggy with sweat, smudging the fresh ink on the surface. Something warm and wet slides down your cheek, splashing onto the bottom corner. Then another, and another, and soon you’re full-on sobbing right there at the kitchen table. 

It’s useless, you’re useless. Why are you so fucking useless? 

You almost don’t hear the door unlock, and when you hear Chuuya call out your name, you stuff the paper in your pocket and jump up from your seat. 

Wipe your eyes, force it down. Busy your hands with something else. 

Take your mind off everything with anything. 

“Where are you, doll?” 

You swallow hard and turn to the dirty dishes in the sink—yeah, that’ll work. First time in your life you’re actually looking forward to doing house chores. 

“There you are.” 

A fresh surge of tears runs down your cheeks at Chuuya’s voice, even more so when he comes in close and wraps his arms around your waist from behind. You grit your teeth and smile, praying to every god and goddess above that he won’t notice the heat in your cheeks or the sniffle in your nose. 

“How was your day?” Always such a gentleman, asking you before you can even think about asking the same of him. “Not too boring all alone, I hope?” 

You shake your head and grab another dish. But it’s hard to see the stains when your sight’s starting to blur again. 

“’S fine,” you mumble with a shrug, “how about you?” 

Suddenly his body goes stiff against yours, his arms coil tighter around your body, and all you can think of is oh fuck, fuck, fuck, you already fucked up didn’t you—

“You feeling alright, doll?” His voice is soft as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. But the gentle touch of his hands only worsens the ache in your chest. “What’s wrong?” 

What’s wrong, indeed? Nothing’s wrong, you’re just overreacting. Just like you always do. Not a big deal. 

You’ll get over it anyway. 

“I’m fine,” you repeat, and damn it you’re running out of dishes to focus on, “it’s nothing—” 

“It’s not nothing if it’s makin’ you upset, sweetheart.” 

Fuck it, here we go. 

A sob wracks through your body, so hard you nearly drop the clean plate back into the soapy water. But Chuuya is quick to swipe it out of your grasp and place it on the drying rack, before shutting off the water altogether. All the while you’re crying in his arms, your soaked hands still gripping the edge of the sink. 

“C’mon baby, talk to me,” he whispers against your temple. He gathers you in his arms, not even caring about the water reaching up to your elbows, gently turning you to face him. “What is it? You gotta tell me, I can’t help you if you don’t—” 

Your knees are practically jelly, it’s a miracle you don’t tumble to the floor and take Chuuya with you. But he’s too strong for his own good, holding you up with one hand and tracing over your cheek with his other. Wait a minute, when did he take off his gloves? 

“Baby, please,” he says one more time, cradling your face in his hands, and even through your tears you can still make out those brilliant blue eyes of his. “Did something happen earlier? Was it something I did? You gotta tell me…” 

Your heart clenches at his words; how could he ever think it was something he did? He’s not the one to blame here, not when he’s been nothing but supportive of you ever since you met. 

But your tongue just won’t move, the words won’t come out no matter how hard you try, so all you can do is shake your head no. His shoulders sag just a bit at that, but he never loosens his grip on you. 

“Alright then… Can you tell me what hurts? Or show me, at least?” 

Show him, show him… That’s right, the culprit’s right here in your pocket. It takes a moment to fish it out with how hard your fingers are trembling, and once you do Chuuya’s eyes are scanning it hungrily. 

He looks more and more ready to tear the fucking thing in two with every word he reads. But then he meets your teary gaze and drops it to the floor instead. Curling his arms around you once more, guiding you to sit on the floor alongside him so he can tuck your head beneath his chin. 

Another one to add to the collection. Watch them pile up on each other, a constant reminder of how fucking useless you are. 

“I’m sorry, baby. You’re too good for them anyway, y’know that, right?” 

It doesn’t make it hurt any less. But at least he’s trying, holding you tight and pressing a line of kisses across your forehead. Being wrapped up in his arms always helps you feel a bit better. 

“I just—” 

Fuck, your voice sounds rough. Your throat hurts, your nose is clogged, and you can feel a massive headache coming on. You bury your face into his chest and try again, clutching the back of his shirt as tight as you can. 

“…I’m just so sick of it, y’know? How many does that make so far? Five total?” Maybe you’ve lost count at this point. 

“Sweetheart—”

No, stop it. The sincerity in his voice only makes you cry harder. He’s always so helpful and supportive, isn’t he? More often than not you wonder if you even truly deserve him. 

Rejection. Condolences. Hope crushed to pieces. Then the cycle repeats, just when you think you can handle it. 

No matter how much you prepare yourself for the worst outcome, it still stings like hell when you meet it face-to-face. 

“You’ll find it, I promise.” Chuuya threads his fingers through your hair as gently as he can. “It’ll take a few tries, but I promise you’ll find it.” 

You don’t know how many more tries you have in you at this point. 

It’s always a running joke between the two of you, of Chuuya constantly offering to take care of you for the rest of your life with his own money. And you’re always tempted by the offer, especially after a difficult day’s work at your current job. But you never want to be a burden on him; he already does so much for you, it’s not fair to ask anymore of him when you can’t do the same. 

“I just…want something a little bit better, you know?” 

“I know you do, doll. And you’ll find it, I swear you will. You just have to get through all this shit first…and you’ll find it right there in front of you.” 

The tears have slowed, but your head is still pounding with something awful. You raise your head to meet his eyes, heart melting at the sight of his gentle smile and pretty blue eyes. He drags his thumb over your pouty lips, over your chin and up to the apple of your cheek. 

“We can talk more about it later, if you feel up to it. Right now, how about you pick out a movie and we’ll order take out later? Sound like a plan, doll?” 

More than perfect, but you’re too worn out to put it in words. So you nod instead and let him help you back up to your feet. You reach for the box of tissues on the counter, but Chuuya’s already grabbing it and holding it out to you with a lopsided grin. He really is too good for you, huh? 

Not that you’ll ever say that to his face; you’re not in the mood to get scolded by him again. 

“C’mon, we both had a pretty rough day, and all I wanna do is curl up with my favorite girl and make her smile again.” He takes your face in his hands again, brushing away the last of your tears with his thumbs. “Where’s that pretty smile, huh? Don’t hide it from me—ah, there it is.” 

It’s hard not to smile whenever you’re near your boyfriend. Maybe that’s his real special ability, putting you at ease no matter what kind of day you’ve had. He’s always there to pick you up, no matter how many times you fall or trip over yourself. No matter how many bumps in the road you have to crawl over. No matter how far you have to jump. 

He’s always there to catch you, every single time. 

“…Chuuya?” He turns just in time for you to collide with his chest, as your arms link around his shoulders as tight as they can. “Thank you… I love you so much, you know that?” Too much to put into words. 

He’s quiet at first—but then you feel the familiar comforting hand at the small of your back, his warmth bleeding through the fabric of your shirt. You can feel him smile against your temple before pressing a kiss to your tear-stained cheek. 

“Yeah, I know. Love ya too, doll.” 

#chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd x reader #bsd fics

[crepezinhos]

As Long as You’re Here.

(REQUEST #1: A NSFW Xiao oneshot where he makes sure you understand your body doesn’t matter)

POV: You (Adepti) and Xiao are companions. You work as a medical scientist and an emergency doctor, so Xiao is commonly your patient and test subject (with consent of course). But even if you’ve saved thousands of lives, the fashion culture in Liyue is very strict with weigh and you were recently humiliated in a dress store because of your chubby body. But unfortunately, you can’t hide your tears from Xiao’s ears.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is an angsty NSFW piece

— Contains sensitive topics about self imagery

— Contains fat-shaming insults

— Reader uses SHE/HER pronouns

You gently closed the door behind you.

Sigh.

You are a good person, you know? You are such a good person that you still hadn’t realized that Liyue’s beauty standards are toxic enough to cut through the line of respect between mere humans and the Adepti until now.

You just wanted to try out the beautiful red cheongsam (I just searched up a traditional Chinese dress I’m not sure if this accurate) you saw in a store’s display case. But instead, you got fat-shamed by an employee and giggled at by the customers nearby.

.

“Hey, you.” You heard a voice behind you, tapping you by your shoulder.

“Yes?” You answered gently, turning backwards to face the lady behind you.

“Do you wanna buy that dress?” She asked a little frustrated, which made you realize just how frowned her eyebrows were.

“Yes! I think it looks beautiful! I’ve been thinking about this dress for some days now and I think I want to use it in this year’s Lantern Ri—”

“It’s not for sale.” The lady interrupted.

“Oh… really? But it’s in the store’s display… and it has a price tag…” You argued, still with a sweet voice.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just not for sale for people like you.” She shamed, looking you up and down.

“You mean… Adepti..?” You asked, genuinely confused with what she said.

“No. Pigs.” She answered with a certain disgust of you. She knew you were an Adeptus and still called you a pig for no good reason at all.

“Oh…” You went silent for some seconds, unsure of what to say to make the moment less awkward. “Is there any way I can request the same dress but in a size that fits me?” You asked nicely, but the lady only chuckled.

“Are you kidding? Do you want to get me fired? It would be a shame for us to have our brand printed in such a dress!” She screamed at you, genuinely offended by your offer.

“Oh, ok...” You said, now with nothing to say or offer at all.

“Now leave before you get in more trouble.” She demanded, pointing to the exit behind her.

“Ok…”You accepted, beginning a slow rhythm while looking at the floor with shame.

And as you walked away, you noticed that most of the customers in the store around were staring at you, either giggling or gossiping with their company.

“Did she really think she could buy that dress?” You heard one of the many comments slightly echo in your ear.

.

You felt a tear rolling down your face. You were really trying to believe the lady hadn’t recognized you, but it wouldn’t make what she said any better. It wasn’t the first time this kind of situation happened to you but… it seems that you’ve reached your limit.

Another tear rolled down, and then another one, and then another one. Some slight hiccups started to escape your mouth. You wanted to hold them up, you wanted to believe that it didn’t matter and that you loved yourself just the way you are. So you slowly leaned your head to the floor, challenging your own eyes to look at yourself.

It was useless. It was so useless that it only worsened your mood. More tears begun to run down and more sounds started to escape your mouth. You were quick in shutting yourself, covering your mouth by sticking your hand palm in it and kneeling down to call less attention from whoever. Everyone knew you as this intelligent and prodigious Adeptus who had perfected the art of healing, who always had a solution for the ill, who would spend most of your days searching for a medicine for theEleazar… you couldn’t cry for such a weird and stupid reason, not at all. Everyone who saw that scene of you would be ashamed.

“What’s wrong?” You suddenly heard a male voice coming from behind you, making you immediately get up in fear.

You met Xiao’s figure, standing pretty far from you with his usual stoic face and arms crossed.

“Y-Yaksha Xiao?! W-Wha… what are you doing in here?! How did you get in?!” You asked confused by his sudden presence, discounting some of your emotions in him.

“Why are you crying?” He asked, ignoring your previous questions. His gaze was locked so deep in you that it seemed like a threat to you.

You didn’t understand his presence there, nor felt comfortable to answer his question.

“Doesn’t matter… you should go back to—” You attempted answering, avoiding eye contact with him while holding up some tears, but your act was quickly shut down.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me.” He demanded beginning to step closer to you.

He was walking slowly, but since each step of his made the wood planks of the floor crank, it became twice as menacing as before. You felt afraid, like he was going to hurt your vulnerable self at that moment if you didn’t confess.

Why the fuck is he trying to get an answer out of you like he was going to kill you if you didn’t?

“Yaksha Xiao… please—” You tried fighting his presence back after feeling he had crossed your line of personal space by stepping backwards, but your ankles immediately hit the door behind you. And as soon the bang echoed, Xiao slammed the door using his both his hand by the sides of your shoulders and kept them there.

You were cornered.

“Tell me.” He demanded, still staring at the bottom of your soul.

You remained silent. You weren’t understanding him at all. Why was he there, out of everyone that could appear to comfort you? Yaksha Xiao was nothing more than a rude colleague. He’d barely ever appear at meetings at the lake in Mount Aozang, only those who were work related. Most of your few interactions with that man were short and awkward because he never seemed to enjoy talking with you or anybody, no matter how kind you or anyone was to him. You understood that he went and still goes through a lot of agony and grief, so you tried being friendly to him. He seemed to notice your change in behavior towards him, but still didn’t collaborate at all, even if you spent hours taking care of his wounds and sealing karmic debt inside him, he would not even say “thank you” and disappear of your sight as soon as you turned your back to him.

“It’s nothing… I— wait… how did you even know I was crying..?” You asked between some tears, finally finding courage to stare at his amber eyes.

He went silent for some seconds, but his face was still as stoic as a rock.

“I was nearby and my hearing is great.” He answered neutrally.

“Oh… well…” You sighed, forgetting his intentions with you for a brief moment.

“Tell me.” He demanded again.

“It’s nothing, okay? I just… feel overwhelmed because of something that happened at work today…” You confessed a part of the story, lying about working.

“And what happened today?” He asked.

Was he really going to make you answer it all?

“Yaksha Xiao, I believe you’re crossing a huge line of privacy and respect right now.” You said angrily to him, trying your best to not blow up. His insistence was very annoying, especially when you were having a very private moment.

But incredibly, he obeyed you and stepped away. You cleaned up the wet in your face and he watched it all, unsure of what to do as his fists gripped themselves harder and harder.

“I’m… sorry.” Xiao muttered when you made the final wipe in your left cheek.

“No, no… it’s ok… I just… didn’t expect you to show up.” You replied, crossing your arms and avoiding eye contact.

“Why?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“Well… we aren’t friends.” You said, chuckling afterwards to make it seem less rude.

“We… aren’t..?” He asked, barely sounding like a whisper.

“We barely talk to each other. I mean… you barely talk to me, because I always make sure to talk to you.” You confessed, a little stressed and sighed afterwards, realizing you were simply making the situation more awkward and harder on you than it was.

“Sorry, I don’t really have time for conversations.” He explained himself, finally looking away from you.

“Yeah… right.” You scoffed, accidentally sounding higher than you wanted it to be.

The entire place went quiet for some awkward seconds, like the whole city had gone quiet.

…

Why isn’t he leaving? Isn’t this awkward to him?

…

“How was your day?” Xiao asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Why are you asking?” You asked, stressed at his insistence.

“You always told me about your day when you took care of me.” He said, accidentally triggering all the anger you kept to yourself.

“BECAUSE THINGS WOULD GET TOO AWKWARD IF I KEPT QUIET!” You blowed up, making Xiao slightly shiver and the ambient go quiet again.

You sighed and put your hands in your front hair and pushing it backwards trying to get some air.

During that, you accidentally glanced at him for a quick moment and realized that he seemed weirdly nervous, like a hurt person would be. You sighed again, ashamed and regretful for saying such a mean thing to him. He was just trying to help you.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be going now.” He said before turning his back to you and stepping forward a few times.

“Wait!” You screamed, making him instantly stop his attempt on teleportation. “Listen I… I just feel bad, ok? I didn’t even go to work today… I was hanging around and I went to this dress store, and then one of the employees said they’d never sell a dress to a person like me.” You finally confessed the realest truth, feeling your voice break again with the will of crying.

“A person like you?” He asked, turning only his face to you.

“A fat person, Yaksha Xiao.” You answered, feeling a tear again at calling yourself fat.

Xiao turned his face back, staring at the balcony of your home for some seconds.

“Humans… you shouldn’t listen to them. You’re not fat.” He said, turning his whole body to you.

“It’s kinda hard to not listen when they call you a pig…”

“A pig?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not a pig. You’re an Adeptus. How dare they call you that?” He said, angrier this time since you specified what you’ve been called.

“I don’t know, Xiao. I really don’t know.” You said before Xiao put his hands on the door and cornering you against it again.

“Don’t give it attention, you’re perfectly beautiful the way you are.” He confessed his thoughts to you instinctually, but instantly swallowed some saliva afterwards from the regret of saying that.

“You think I’m beautiful..?” You asked, genuinely taken aback from hearing someone like Xiao calling you that.

“I…” He mumbled, trying to regain his composure but couldn’t find a way to. So he stood quietly for some seconds while staring at you. “Yes. Yes I do.”

“Oh… thank you.” You thanked embarrassed.

“You still seem sad.” He argued.

“Well… that’s because as long as I’m thankful for your kindness, it just won’t help at all.” You explained, crossing your arms and looking away.

“Why?”

“Because people only say it to me when I’m crying over it. It’s never in a common day or a new dress, y’know?”

“But I’m being genuine.” He said, feeling offended by your accusation.

“That’s also what they say to me…”

“But the difference is that I like you way more than anyone does! Ganyu, Shenhe, Cloud Retainer, Rex Lapis… they feel nothing for you compared to me!” Xiao finally bursted.

“You… what..?” You asked, very surprised at what he said.

“You have no idea how good it is for me to wake up in a warm bed with all wounds covered up, with no headaches and a nice lady talking to me about her day after a terrible day full of fighting, blood and gore! Sorry if I was inconvenient to you before, but I want to change! I hate to admit it but you make me feel things I haven’t felt in ages, and I don’t want you to think I don’t feel it! It pains me that you care more about what humans say to you than all the Adepti and me at this moment!” He screamed, finishing like he still had more to say.

You just stood there.

…

Wow.

Was that really Yaksha Xiao..? It couldn’t be.

He had a crush on you?!

“Oh.” That was all you could find to say.

He didn’t like how you were quiet towards his confession, so he suddenly leaned forward and glued your lips together. You didn’t really have a reaction, you just let him explore your mouth until you finally felt yourself being dragged into the heat of it. And when you did, your heart seemed to melt, feeling his previous words finally hit you. The sympathy you felt for him grew in that same minute. A thing you’d never expect someone like Xiao could do to a person that quick.

Tears begun to form in your eyes again. All the sadness you were keeping inside you, seemed to have find the perfect opportunity to get out. The more you accepted the kiss, the further he pushed your head to the door and his tongue inside your shaky mouth. It seemed like Xiao was sucking all of it outside you and it was working so well that it made moan for the first time in many years. Even if he was doing well, air isn’t infinite.

He parted away from your face and both of you begun to recover from the overuse of oxygen while staring at each other.

“What about now?” He asked between some heavy breathes.

“I…” You mumbled, embarrassed about what you two were doing.

But you wouldn’t mind if he went on. Right?

Xiao was a beautiful guy in the end of the day and now revealed to be in love with you.

Your hands moved to his face and pulled him for another kiss. This time he was being more competitive for power of the kiss because of the way you controlled his face with your hands. Xiao also unexpectedly changed his hands’ position to your crotch, sliding them under your dress and touching your clothes clit. You didn’t expect him to advance that quick and intimately, so you pushed him away from your mouth.

“W-Wait..!” You said, expecting him to ignore you, which didn’t happen.

“Yes?” He asked.

“Are you… I mean, are we going to…” You tried asking but the embarrassment didn’t allow you to.

“Do you want to?” He answered, staring at you. You noticed his eyes seemed to be more hungry than before.

“I mean… are you sure..?”

“Yes. Are you sure?”

“I…” You mumbled before you felt your clit slightly ache like it wanted that touch again. “Do it again… please.” You asked, moving your hand to the tip of your dress and pulling it up slightly, still not showing your underwear to his eyes.

Xiao slightly chuckled. You’ve never heard him make that sound and definitely was surprised to see him do it for such a weird reason. But his hands quickly reoccupied your mind with his two longest fingers beginning to rub your clothes clit up and down repeatedly. Your legs would flinch whenever he decided to scissor and press your clit with the same fingers. Your hands were in the wall, trying to contain yourself from crumbling down.

“You’re wet.” Xiao commented back with his stoic face as he gently pressed your entrance.

You moaned, smashing his perverted hand with your shaky legs when he begun to try thrusting you.

“X-Xiao~!” You called out his name in pleasure.

Xiao growled, like he had really liked what he had just heard.

“I want you all for myself.” He demanded, ignoring your calls and shoving his head on your neck.

His mouth begun to lick and smooch your soft skin and fragile bones as you did your best to not press his fluffy hair too hard and crumble in his single hand holding your buttock. Even if he wasn’t making direct contact with your pussy, you were feeling desperate with that overwhelming pleasure he tortured you with.

“D-Don’t you want to do it in another place or position?!” You suggested, trying to hold his wrist and pushing his head away from your now marked neck.

“I don’t have much time.” He answered, obeying your wishes, but beginning to undo his pants.

“But I weigh a lo—!”

“I’ve carried heavy things my entire life. You will definitely not be a problem.” He said, pulling your legs up, making your whole body hanged in his hands.

You screamed in surprise but let yourself fall and be hanged. Your legs naturally spread away from each other due to the position, opening a way for him to get closer.

And as he stepped those extra steps, one of his hands moved to your hips, pulling your torso closer to him. You looked down and realized he already had himself positioned between your legs.

“Are you ready? I promise I’ll be quick.” He asked looking at you deep, shameless of the moment.

“Do it~...” You asked, putting a hand on top of your mouth to cover your red, vulnerable face a little.

“I will. You don’t have to worry.” Xiao answered while grabbing the wrist of the hand that dared to go in front of your mouth.

You felt his hands move down to grab a piece of your underwear and pull it away, making your bare pussy show up. You begun to feel the tip of his dick making contact with your your entrance, unintentionally feeling the stickiness of your pussy contaminating his tip, beginning to fill you up. And after admiring the view for some seconds, he finally pushed his way inside you very slowly. Your first reaction was to squirm and scream as you felt your walls spread a way for him while Xiao simply hissed in relief. He shortened the distance between you two, laying his head on your neck again to stimulate you with his mouth as he finally begun to move his hips back and forth slowly. You hugged his back, trying to contain the slight pain of having sex after many years. Your nails instinctually pierced and scratched his skin to firm yourself better, causing him to hiss and grip harder on your buttocks as he felt them go deeper and deeper.

“S-Sorry, I—” You tried apologizing between moans.

“It’s ok, discount it all on me.” He ordered, breathing on your neck hard.

You felt two tears form in each eye. The comfort Xiao’s words were making you feel weird, but somehow so good. Your shoulders and hips relaxed to tense up the grip of your nails in his clothed back while Xiao took it like it was nothing.

“Why do you even bother listening to what mere humans have to say about you..? You could wipe the entire city if you wanted to, yet, they have no sense of respect…” He whispered angrily in your ear, discounting his own anger on you as well.

It looked like he was drunk, but Xiao was just burning in the passion and of the situation. He already disliked humans, but their audacity never failed to make his blood boil.

“I don’t want to ever see you crying over what pesky humans say about you and your body, ok? If you don’t defend yourself, they’ll only continue… because they believe you are hurt. You don’t want that, do you?” He asked, covering most of his moans and gasps in the process to make his message more obvious. His eyes wouldn’t move away from yours, trying to get the answer he wanted out of your mouth.

“No… no I don’t..!” You gathered all your energy to scream something to him.

“And if you can’t defend yourself, call our my out my name. A whisper or a finger snap is enough.” He ordered, still in his angry mood.

“I will… I will..!” You threw your head to the air as Xiao pulled your hips closer to his, increasing the amount of total length his dick reached inside you. If you two were in another position, he would be easily reaching your cervix with each thrust.

“Good.” He said before putting his tongue on your neck again and beginning to accelerate his rythym.

Your noises got higher because of those two last decisions of Xiao and your back arched to the core. Your womb also began to slightly ache in a good way, wanting Xiao even more. Your legs moved to tangle your feet together and hug Xiao’s waist to pull his hips closer to you. It worked. Now the tip of his dick could kiss your cervix. The touch was minimum, you could barely feel it sometimes, which made it just more tortuous to you.

You closed your mouth to gather some air to speak what you had in mind.

“Xiao..! I think I’m close~!” You screamed, using all the air you’ve gathered in those seconds.

His pace got even faster, searching more of your pleasure than his own.

“You are, huh? Tell me how you want this.” He whispered in your ear, licking the lobe afterwards.

“Faster~! Faster~!” You asked, trying to not sound as demanding as Xiao.

Xiao didn’t even say anything, he just quickened his pace to the max he could, making you throw your head to the air in ecstasy.

“Oh, archons~! Archons~!” You screamed, feeling your womb ache more and more with the closure of your climax.

And suddenly, both of you felt your orgasm coming all the way down, making both of you stop everything immediately to feel the moment. Your legs shook non-stop and Xiao was doing his best to keep your hips in the same place. He was very sweaty and gasping but his facial expression was incredibly neutral. He hadn’t even tried reaching his orgasm, so he had no much pleasure to express at that moment rather than having his cock warmed by your sticky, tight walls.

As soon as your legs stopped twitching and your body could relax after the orgasm, your eyes closed, completely exhausted. Xiao pulled you away from the wall and begun walking as he changed the way he carried you to a princess style. You didn’t care where he took you, you just wanted to rest after a noon of many emotions and sex. You suddenly felt body lay down and slightly sink at a very soft place, your own bed. You opened your eyes to see what had happened to you and saw Xiao pulling the sheets of your bed to the height of your chest.

“Tell me, which store was it?” He asked you like nothing had happened, looking at your eyes as he finalized the job of comforting you in the bed.

You breathed in and out using your mouth some more times before finding the courage and air to tell him the store’s name.

“Huai Dei… it was the Huai Dei store.” You answered, now a little less more rested and normal.

“I hope it’s not your favorite store.” He said, before finally walking away from you to the balcony and teleporting somewhere you didn’t know.

You stared at the spot where he last stepped for some seconds before turning your head to the roof again and closing your eyes slowly.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #smut #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #genshin x reader

[argisthebulwark]

I'm Almost Me, She's Almost You

summary: He swore he got over you ages ago - but it's hard to ignore the pieces of you he finds in someone else. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Miraak, Vilkas, Erandur warnings: none omg masterlist

Brynjolf knew that he was over you. It had been months since you'd looked up at him with that heartbreaking smile and said those words that had ruined him - I just don't think we should do this anymore. He'd accepted your new roles as coworkers and stuffed away any lingering feelings the moment he saw you move on with another man. He was quite good at moving on, he thought. It had been weeks since he'd let your name leave his tongue when someone else's lips were on his skin, a mistake he would never repeat. It's difficult to mind his words so often - he knows you would never stumble on a job or leave behind any clues. When he glares down at the clear boot print his new partner left behind he cannot help himself - you would never do this. Sometimes when their hood is up, he can pretend that it's you. It's your fingers twisting into the straps of his armor and kissing up his throat or your boots planted on his desk to complain about a long day. Brynjolf lets them kiss him, reassuring himself that he is definitely over you.

Though many lifetimes had passed since he'd last heard it, Miraak would never forget your laugh. It haunted him; late nights spent alone in his study praying that your fingers would trail through his hair and remind him to rest, giggling when he swatted at your touch. He heard it in the winds when he stood atop mountains and the rustling of pages as he hunted Apocrypha for a way to get you back. He never expected to hear it in another. When the Last Dragonborn laughed it brought tears to his eyes. He'd been paying them no mind, mildly interested in the journey they took to High Hrothgar but it had not been enough to distract him until he heard that. It was you, the one he'd loved so dearly all those years ago. He would do anything to hear it again. Descending to Nirn was the last thing Miraak intended to do but it unavoidable. Tucked into the corner of some shady tavern he watched, cloak pulled tight and drink untouched as he stared at them. Their head tilted back, tears leaking from their eyes when they laughed at whatever their companion had said. It was the most beautiful sound Miraak had ever heard.

"Can you do this?" Vilkas wasn't sure why he felt so guilty asking someone to pet through his hair - it wasn't anything profane. As he guided their hand and demonstrated how to run their fingers through it, he assured himself that it was just anxiety. It had been months since he'd lost you but he was still learning how to be intimate with someone else. It was difficult. He'd grown so comfortable with you, something that had taken years dashed over one stupid mistake. He'd known that letting you go would be hard but learning to live without you was terrifying. "Like this?" They giggled and he readied himself to answer. All words failed when their nails scratched over his scalp, brain overloaded with you. Your fingers twisted in his hair tilting his head back to kiss him, you working soap into his scalp after a long battle, your touch wordlessly begging him for more. He stumbled over his words and couldn't bear to open his eyes, entirely lost in memories of you.

Erandur should have known better. Allowing himself to grow accustomed to your touch had been foolish. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep you forever yet he'd done it anyway, he'd become addicted to you - the reverent way you touched him and your voice soothing all his worries, your warmth and forgiveness absolving his many sins. Death had wrenched you away from him so long ago. The pain had broken him, ruining everything but his faith. When he knelt before Lady Mara's altar, hands clasped and lips wrapping around those all too familiar words of faith he felt you. It was your embrace he felt through his god, your arms reaching down from the heavens and your ear hearing him beg for salvation. How could he not see you? Lady Mara, the goddess of love and his first savior, could only be represented by you. You who had saved him over and over, only your eyes could appear in his mind when he whispered prayers in your name. Erandur's vision of his beloved deity blurred, replaced by visions of his most beloved. He could only hope that it was her will.

#writing #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #brynjolf #miraak #vilkas #erandur

[guardian-of-soho]

So Gaiman uses they/them for Muriel, and their actor uses she/her. And Gaiman says all pronouns are appropriate for any angel. I would really like to write a fic where Muriel starts using ‘she’ on Earth, because she’s naturalizing to Soho and likes being butch. I really want a butch angel. I hope there’s room for a fic like that.

#like how Aziraphale isn’t gay #but he’s gay #I know I just need to write what I want to see #it wouldn’t even be the main point of the fic it would just be a background thing #i relate pretty dang hard to Muriel #and I like all pronouns but day to day I use she

[corpsentry]

WHALE TIME

#my art #my stuff #art #digital art #study #DRAMATIZED STUYD #i stabbed myself with a staple while trying to yank this 1966 canada dollar out of its cardboard prison and it wont stop bleeding #so this is the same building from earlier except i was like i want to make a print of it and it looks boring as fuck with jst the buildingn #so after staring at it for like three days and one 3 hour long stream and lots of toxic relationshipcore crying #whale. there she is. jonathan #jonathan uses any pronouns. they are a giant fucking flying whale and they Do Not Care about worldly things #i also do not care about worldly things as it is fall break and everything is dead #may we all go forth and prosper. like worms #likes rbs appreciated #ill stick this up on my inprnt in a bit. thank u for ur patience and love #whale

[nannerism]

Hello again!! Hello!! I come with another 3D model!

I give you humanized (wait, no, humanoid!) Home! (and tiny Wally!) She has been very fun to work on, which is impressive, since I've been working on her for about 5 hours now! Yeesh!

And before you ask: Ronnie, home isn't a GIRL! Home uses He/They/It!!! (I think!) Why is it FEMININE? GRR!!!

To that I answer! I have my headcanons! It is silly to headcanon an estate as trans, but I am a firm believer in Transfem Home!! (or at least, fem presenting agender Home! Either works!)

She also spins! Look at her go...

#my stuff! #welcome home #wally darling #home #I like how she turned out!!! #Also I am a firm She/He/They/It home believer. I would not think she would care too much about pronouns or gender! #But i still think she is transfem. one day she woke up and thought: “I think I will be a girl house!” #can home even think? #maybe she just said it out loud! #“creak creak squeak wham!” says home #“So what pronouns would you like me to use?” Wally replies! #I think home is very polite #and not a scary villain! #I think she cares a whole lot about Wally... She does shelter him after all! #3d model #3d art #blender3d #render #3d modeling #woohoo!!!!!

[svtskneecaps]

it's still genuinely funny to me that the only eggs to use "she" pronouns decided their pronouns themselves lmfao

#qsmp #the og batch of eggs was all he/him at adoption day with the exception of i THINK dapper don't quote me #i did hear a VERY long time ago that bad was using they/them for dapper at the start but i didn't hop in until later #also don't quote me on empanada; i THINK she was asked but i actually don't recall #sunny pomme and tallulah i know decided their own #flippa transed her gender; leo wore pronouns like accessories; and i think tilin became she/her just for a sleepover with flippa #bc allegedly slime was like 'no BOYS are allowed to sleep over with my DAUGHTER' and tilin was like well i'm a girl!! :D or so i hear #didn't confirm this for myself either #but like ramon chayanne bobby trump leo flippa tilin were all definitely assigned male pronouns at adoption lmao #and richas let his parents decide his gender and they went with he/him #this post isn't a hit piece or a critique to be clear it is genuinely funny to me the op lmao #shut up vic #block game brainrot #oh and pepito is pepito i don't think pepito ever actually gave any pronouns so pepito is pepito :D #but everyone knows pepito is pepito lmao #please don't do critique on this post this is a funny haha lmao post

[totopopopo]

The best part about gaining the favor of a group of nine year old girls is that they are 900% ready to throw down for you at ALL times (whether you want it or not)

#these all are events that happened within the past 3 days #and to clarify the woman who was mean to me wasn’t mean to me specifically she was just someone else who works at the school who said #a reaaally nasty comment about our program right in front of me (and unfortunately for her. in front of my girls.) #they were like ❗️WE WILL REMEMBER THIS #and the other dude is yet another adult who also works at the same school as I do but who isn’t part of our program #he was saying nice things abt me to be clear but he kept using the wrong pronouns and holy fuck. I’ve never seen anyone so murderous #I had to mouth to her ‘it’s fine’ to keep her in check but she rly looked like she was about to vault across the table and bite him