#i don't like it for shopping or in the bus or whatever

[tenrose]

Had my first therapy today (actually it's not a classical type of therapy) and I have to fill various questionnaires to evaluate my anxiety, phobias, depression etc. And you know it's the "never" "rarely" "always" etc. types of situations and I can feel a disaster incoming.

I know you can't fail a mental health evaluation, I'm just saying that I'm going to fail at my own mental health evaluation lmao

#i hope it does not end up as badly as the onlines one 💀 #but the online ones don't count #plus it's gonna be so like... contradictory?????? #because take being in a crowd #i don't like it for shopping or in the bus or whatever #however for a concert from a band i love? i manage to get over it #also take the fact that i can't go to the restaurant alone except when im really hungry #HOWEVER I've been able to go to Germany on my own with nobody else??? #and generally speaking when I'm on vacation on my own i have no problem going to the restaurant???? #it makes fucking sense at all #im doomed #there is so much work to do for 50€ a session... #i don't even know how much my insurance is gonna refund #but... i can't close my eyes anymore

[tgirlwithreverb]

I saw that post about what to do if you're homeless again (the one that starts by telling you to spend all of your money on motel rooms lmao) anyway, here's a few thoughts, specifically for trans girls, cuz I don't really care otherwise tbh:

1) plan ahead, most trans girls are in precarious housing situations, you will have a much easier time when it falls apart if you already have a pack with most of the gear you need in it. Also, if you find yourself in a situation where you cant make rent, dont pay part of it, spend that money on gear, pocket the rest and leave, youll have a much nicer time. Look up your local eviction laws, you have plenty of time. (Gear list at the end)

2) travel! If you're in Arizona in May, leave. it's about to be hot as hell. If you're in Michigan in October, leave. It's about to be cold as hell. If you're in a big city, leave. It's way easier to be homeless pretty much anywhere else. Amtrak is cheaper and more comfortable than greyhound, hitchhiking is free and easy, if you're alone it's not that much slower than the previous two, and it's more fun, and sometimes people buy you food or whatever or give you money. I promise it's not scary and you're entirely capable of doing it, no matter who you are. 95+% of people who will pick you up are very nice. All you have to do is take the bus out of town, as far down the highway you can, to an exit with a truck stop if possible, then just stand on the side of the road with your thumb out until someone picks you up. You can stand at the bottom of the ramp(on the highway) near where the merge lane ends or at the top of the ramp(where there's usually a traffic light), the former is more likely to lead to cop interactions but will maybe get you a ride faster, check on hitchwiki for how the cops are in the area. don't be afraid to take a commuter bus or Amtrak to get out of a shitty cop area

3) skip shelters if you can (they are very occasionally a decent place to get stuff from) and encampments, good places to sleep include the trees near railroad tracks or highways, wooded areas behind shopping centers, sections of parks without paths, overgrown empty lots. Hang a tarp above you if there's an appreciable chance of rain, there's tons of YouTube tutorials on how to do this, maybe I'll make a post about what I usually do some day. There are many habits more fun than motel rooms, save your money for them lmao.

4) get on food stamps. This is easier in some places than others, but it makes the whole thing a lot easier. Just tell them you're homeless, if they don't give you a card the same day, you can probably ask to pick it up from that office, alternatively some drop in centers/day shelters can receive mail for you, or you can have it sent to general delivery(USPS service, look it up)

7) libraries are great for charging your phone and using wifi, but also keep an eye out, plenty of random outlets on the outsides of buildings are also powered

5) dumpster. sidewalk trash cans, Aldi, Einstein's, trader Joe's, pizza places, etc. You need to develop a bit of a sense for it but it's an easy way to get cooked food or travelling food or expensive food without spending resources. Also it's fun.

6) water is free, go into the bathroom of any gas station or grocery store in America(offer not valid in most big cities or on the west coast, but in that case just go to the library) and fill up your water bottle

8) hygiene notes: truckers get free showers from chain truck stops(loves, pilot/flying j) go there and ask them. convenient if you're hitchhiking, also you don't need to shower 3 times a day, really, you'll survive. Ditto with deodorant. Take care of your teeth though. Take your socks off every. day. Change them consistently. Safety razors give a good shave, work well without adequate water pressure, and the replacement blades are very stealable, they're kind of heavy though. Walmart makes these electric razors for women that take AA batteries and are pretty light but give a worse shave, also they kinda go through batteries, pick whatever works for you(cartridge razors suck)

9) traveling food notes: peanut butter is great, tortillas and bagels travel pretty well, tuna packets are pretty good protein for traveling(the ones with rice and beans or whatever are nice since theyre often the same price as the regular), condiment packets are free, hot sauce makes everything better, and mayo goes well with tuna and has a bunch of calories in it, salad dressing packets are free from truck stops and work well turning the Walmart shredded vegetable packages (labeled for making into slaw, next to the bagged salads) into a salad with real vegetables(not iceberg lettuce) in it or mixing in with tuna packets for even more calories than mayo

Gear world:

Necessary items(in order of importance): a gallon of water carrying capacity(an Arizona jug or other twist top jug is conventional, but a bladder+arizona bottles also works), a tarp(larger than 6'x9', not brightly colored), a hank of parachord, a sleeping bag (20° rated, synthetic insulation), a backpack with a padded hip belt(at least 50L, no more than 75), rain gear(a rain poncho might cover your pack too, a rain jacket can help with wind when its cold, a trash bag inside or outside your pack can keep it dry, a plan to watch the weather and not get caught also works), a z-fold foam sleeping pad, three pairs of socks, two pairs of underwear (at least one pair of boxer breifs strongly recommended if you arent incredibly skinny), a decent pair of shoes with good arch support, a functional jacket(skip if you got a rain jacket before), a base layer(wool or poly, absolutely no cotton)

Convenient items: a sleeping bag liner(cotton free, keeps you warm in winter and cool in summer), gallon zip locks to pack your stuff in(helps keep it dry and organized), no more than one change of clothes(as light as possible), a multi-tool(can opener, pliers, wire cutter), lighter(burning rope ends etc), spoon, floss and needles for patching

#anyway #not all encompassing or whatever #feel free to add your own tips but ill make fun of you if theyre stupid

[lauriemarch]

and at the end of the day, people will still hate women.

because beyonce is a terrible songwriter who has a good body and nothing more and she's really nothing compared to olivia rodrigo, that stuck-up bitch who steals other people's music, but taylor swift is an old, bitter nothing who clearly hates other girls. and sabrina carpenter deserves to die because she followed her heart, not her brain, and that's exactly why zendaya will never be good enough for tom holland. don't forget about kylie jenner, who's stealing precious timothee's innocence away and dating her is like committing arthouse cinema suicide, or how we said the same thing about miley cyrus and her disgusting profanity, think of the children, poor liam hemsworth, trapped in a marriage with such a horrible woman. lana del rey was hot until she was big and she made trailerpark sexy until her ass got a little too fat. and ariana grande, talentless homewrecker, and selena gomez, jealous and unreasonable, and hailey bieber, even more boring than the blood drying on the knives you are so quick to pull. sophie turner is a bad mom and megan thee stallion deserved whatever was coming to her.

and amidst all of this, we still don't know these women. we cannot fathom the pain of having a public divorce, one where people choose sides and hurl insults at you until the battery on their phone dies. we don't watch them chase after sweet-cheeked children in tucked-away backyards or play board games with their best friends while their chests heave in laughter. we don't know their marriages and we don't know their solitudes. we don't watch them unravel themselves, time and time again, preparing for the battle that we have made of their lives. they can never make a mistake. they can never cry. they can never be who they believe themselves to be.

and we take all of this and we go to work, we ride the bus, we go grocery shopping, we walk in dappled sunlight, and we let ourselves shrivel. i compare myself to every body i see and i comfort in the fact that i can still encircle my wrists with my fingers. food turns to dust in my mouth when i think about the fact that taylor swift thinks she's fat and people still hate sabrina carpenter for sticking by joshua bassett's side when he almost died, for God's sake, and now the people on my twitter feed are saying GUTS is the worst album they've ever heard. i liked it, the tiny voice in my head cries out. she wrote songs that made me feel noticed. they're calling the song i relate to the most a total skip.

so i close the app. i try not to think about the endless profiles screaming about how much they hate a nineteen/thirty-two/thirty-eight/twenty-three/twenty-six/forty-two year old. i try not to think about how much they would hate me, if they knew anything at all.

#this isn't necessarily in defense of the mentioned women #twitter has just been so disgusting in the past week #and everything written in italics is either a direct quote or paraphrased from twitter so that's awesome #so. yeah #what does this mean you ask #i don't know i respond #olivia rodrigo #beyonce #taylor swift #kylie jenner #sabrina carpenter #lana del rey #zendaya #miley cyrus #ariana grande #selena gomez #sophie turner #megan thee stallion

[akawrites000]

casually caring for someone - a prompt list

this can be for anyone - your crush, s/o, close friends. i hope you'll have fun with this!

A messaging B to wear layers first thing in the morning because they know that B never checks their weather forecast (and A obsessively checks it every day).

A and B have a study session together where B is already done with most of their work, but A is still looking all focused at their laptop, so B just pretends like they have more work to do while keeping an eye on A, in case A needs anything to be more comfortable.

Knowing that the other prefers hot/cold water and making sure to fill that in another bottle and giving it to them while you fill your own bottle.

You're having a picnic with your friends and you're in charge of buying the drinks, so you're at a grocery shop, scanning the aisles and you find a bottle of so-so that you know A really likes, so you pick it up for them, along with other general drinks for everyone else.

A and B go out to eat with their friends, and when they are leaving the restaurant, B forgets their jacket—deep in conversation with another friend. A picks it up for them, just as B turns back, searching for their jacket. "here you go" "thank you so much! i was just going to go and look for it"

A eats slowly and B knows that but they don't mind at all. B just finishes eating first and engages A by talking to them about something until A finishes eating their food.

B is scared of dogs so the moment they see a dog approaching them, they pull A in front of them like a shield. A just lets B do whatever they want because they're too busy cooing at the dog.

A invites B out to spend the day together because they've been a little worried about them recently. B hesitantly agrees, and by the end of the day, B ends up having so much fun that they both end up going home pretty late.

B is waiting for the bus to arrive so texts A in the mean time so as not to feel bored. "this street lamp looks so yellow!" A genuinely enjoys their randomness, so they of course indulge in it. "oh yeah? what kind of yellow?"

A knowing that B has a very low tolerance to the cold and asking them to go inside and not to wait with them for the bus to arrive. "please go in! you're going to catch a cold!" "it's okay, the app says it's just a few more minutes away."

(this is my first time trying to write prompts like these so i hope they're good! please tag me if you decide to use them :) )

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #prompts #writing prompts #writing ideas #descriptive prompts #fluff #fluff prompts #fluff ideas #imagine your otp #or your friends #soft #soft prompts #caring prompts #writing inspo #otp prompts #prompts for friends #romance prompts #romantic

[moonstruckme]

I feel like Poly!marauders are sooo caring so maybe a dynamic where the reader is like an overly-insependent person and is not used to this kind of care and affection. Maybe it is reader’s first relationship so they have a hard time with the concept of leaning to others for support. Thank you in advance love!

Lmao this came wayyy too easily because I've definitely done all of these things! Thanks for requesting lovely <3

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

"Where you headed off to, gorgeous?" Sirius looks up from his laptop as you step into your shoes.

"Grocery store," you say. "I'm thinking of making souffle tonight, would you want some?"

"Yeah, that sounds great." He grins at you in that way of his, and you know he knows your knees just went wobbly. "Want a lift?"

"Thanks, but the bus goes almost directly there."

Remus looks up from his book with eyebrows already furrowed in disapproval. "It's nearly dark out, love. You shouldn't be walking around by yourself this late."

You roll your eyes. Men. "I can handle myself, been doing it for years," you say as reassuringly as you can, slipping out the door before either of them can argue with you further. "I'll be back soon!"

You keep a hand close to the rape alarm attached to your bag as you maneuver your way through the shadowy streets. You've been tired since you woke up that morning, so a ride would have been nice, sure, but you don't want to become one of those girlfriends who relies on her boyfriends for everything. That was your biggest concern with getting into a relationship: losing the sense of self-reliance you've cultivated over your life. You don't need help from anyone, even if the big, strong men think you do. You huff a laugh to yourself.

The grocery shopping goes quick, soon you're back at your own front door. Sirius and Remus are almost exactly as you left them, both curled up on the couch, but now James is home from the gym. You know this, because he apprehends you as soon as you walk through the door, hair wet from the shower and dripping on your paper grocery bags as he attempts to take them from you.

"I've got them," you laugh, dodging him.

James gives chase. "You're carrying three! Let me take a couple."

"I can handle it." You kick at his ankle playfully, sniffling.

He pauses, and you take the opportunity to whisk the bags into the kitchen, setting them on the counter victoriously. "You feeling alright, sweetheart?" he asks.

"Yeah." You wave him off. "It's just chilly outside. Go relax, I'm about to start dinner."

James pouts but goes, flopping dramatically over the side of the couch. His head lands in Sirius' lap, and the other boy starts combing his fingers through the tangles of James' wet hair absentmindedly. Satisfied, you start setting out the ingredients you'll need, but a moment later Remus materializes beside you.

"You've been running around all day," he says. "Let me make dinner. You go relax."

"I don't mind," you say, slightly affronted. "I can handle dinner."

"Baby," Sirius pipes up, turning to look at you over the couch, "just let him do it. Take a—" he stops as you sneeze. "Are you sick?"

"No," you sniffle. "I don't think so."

Before you can move away, Remus has a hand on your forehead. "You're warm!" he says, in the same tone as one might say You're killing people and burying them in our backyard! A bit dramatic, in your opinion.

"Oh," you say, covering your face with your elbow as you sneeze again.

"Aw, angel," James says, your sole ally as Remus and Sirius look at you accusingly, as though they suspect you've been keeping this from them on purpose. Which....to be fair, isn't outside the realm of possibility. "Come sit with us, let us take care of you."

"Go," Remus says, moving his hand to the back of your neck and pursing his lips at whatever he feels there. "I'll make dinner, and some tea for you, yeah?"

You shake your head. "That's alright, I can—"

"Don't say you can handle it."

You huff, but it's clear you're not going to win this one. You go to the couch, where James accepts you with eager arms.

"Our poor girl," he coos, kissing every inch of your cheek sloppily. "Fuck, you are warm. You just need to take some time to rest, yeah?"

You sniffle grouchily, but Sirius pokes at your side, eliciting an unwilling snicker. "You could stand to let us help you out every now and then," he says, already seeming less upset with you. You suspect you have your illness to thank for that.

"I can take care of myself," you argue, but the fight is going out of you as you finally give into the cold you maybe sort of knew was coming on all day.

"We know you can, dove," Remus chimes in from the kitchen. "And that's what you've always done, but letting us take care of you sometimes isn't going to suddenly make you helpless, either." He shoots you a knowing look, too perceptive for his own good. And yours, apparently.

You sneeze again, jerking away from James so you don't spray on him. You feel disgusting, and pathetically vulnerable. Is this what they want you to succumb to? "I don't want to get too used to this," you say, voice small as you sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve, "and forget how to manage without your help."

Each of your boyfriends, even Remus, softens like butter in the sun.

"Baby." Sirius wraps an arm around you, looking at you with eyes so soft you feel like you could cry. "You won't forget. You're tough, and that's not gonna change just because you let us do some things for you, yeah?"

You look at your lap, contemplating. He's not not making sense. The idea of accepting help is so unfamiliar to you, it feels like a betrayal of your core values. But you love Sirius, and Remus, and James, and if what they want is to help you, maybe you can try to let them. Some of the time, at least.

Sirius curls a finger under your jaw, his thumb resting on your chin as he tilts your face up to his. He must see the concession in your eyes, because he smiles softly. It's almost an apology, and you know that he's aware of how difficult this is for you to give up.

"You're gonna have to get used to this, sweet thing," he says lightly, pressing a kiss to your overwarm forehead. "Because we're not letting you go."

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders scenario #marauders #the marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders fic #marauders drabble #marauders fandom #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader

[its-time-to-write]

masterlist

i figured it was time to make one. it's in order based on when i wrote it. please, please let me know if a link is broken/mislabeled!!

*81 fics*

All of these are Jamie Tartt x reader

dress

Jamie and Keeley buy you a dress for the benefit gala

three times 'cause i've waited my whole life

secret relationship to engagement

you're losing me

first kid

don't make this any harder

Jamie wants to take you to Brazil, you’re both idiots

would hit him in a heartbeat now

Your ex boyfriend is a footballer and also a douche

silent sleepers

Jamie contemplates your relationship on the team bus

what it is

Jamie is sick ft. Roy

don't go wasting your emotion

Secret relationship + you own a bookshop! Ft. Roy and Keeley

you know, you'll always know me

You’re a famous singer! Congrats!

i don't know how you keep smiling/i'm just choking almost constantly

Jamie’s dad is a douche

i'll still be right next to you my dear

Jamie is a dad

can't really say i'm enjoying it now

Yikes it’s a breakup fic, but happy endings only in this house

mine of you with me

Reader and Jamie go semi-public with their relationship

today's a day like any other

The Tartt family thru the years

there's orange juice in the kitchen

Oof ouch period cramps

i can't breathe without you

Nate kisses you w/o consent

damned if i do give a damn what people say

You’re a theater actress! How exciting!

island made of faith

People think Jamie’s dumb, and he’s not

take your time while you're mine

You’re Roy’s other sister ft. all the Kents

honey, i'll give you all my time

Vienna. Enough said.

feeling fragile can't you tell

Jamie gets hurt

wrote all your lines in the script in my mind

Oh no! Some girl kissed Jamie and it wasn’t you! + Colin as the bff

stick together like glitter

Babysitting Phoebe + angst

your mind is not your friend

Angst + comfort after you have a bad hookup

chasing shadows in a grocery line

You’re pretty sure you have a hot stalker

don’t go yet

Tee hee protective Jamie at a club

kicking myself to keep from crying

The morning after your mind is not your friend

i think we could do it if we tried

High school sweethearts reunited after 6 years🥺

i’m glad you exist

You and Jamie go to a wedding

send for me

BREAKING: shit day at work made better by local boyfriend

tell me where to put my love

day off = food + snuggles

bored

The longest angst I’ve ever written. Def not the best angst I’ve ever written.

would it be enough if i never gave you peace

you’ve got baby fever and your pretty sure it’s going to kill your brother

wishing on every one

You own a flower shop. It’s adorable.

lyrical eyes, indigo smile

Bea meets the team for the first time!

something to rely on

You storm the pitch and smooch your bf

flipped the script

Enemies to lovers slow burn (or maybe fast burn, idk)

i fancy you

London Boy by ms. T. Swift

you don’t want to know me

Jamie shows up at your door after s.1 Man City

you’re in the kitchen humming

Post-Mom City

family that i chose

For the child-free girlies!

never wanted you to hate me

Pt. 2 of you don’t want to know me

wonderstruck

BFF Keeley tells you to give her awful ex a chance

in love with an idea

idk it’s like a confession of love? kinda cute

sinking into your worn-out mattress

Touch-deprived therapist! reader

you’re a mansion with a view

just two footballers doing an England promo, nothing to see here

i know what i’m doing

Post-Roy/Jamie locker room hug after Man City

wonder what it’d be like

Jamie tries to win you back

if only love were true

You’re a single mom in dire need of a plus-one

i know now it’ll pass

It’s hard to love someone when you’ve been told you don’t deserve it

the way it goes

The Greyhounds are protective of Jamie

how to love being alive

Idk this one’s like whatever and also supes long

there is happiness

GEORGIE GEORGIE GEORGIE

it’s just wanderlust

Relationship soft launch

glitter on the floor

You like to knit. You also think you’re a comedian.

maybe tomorrow you’ll know

The “he’s a prick to everyone but her” trope

hustling for the good life

I swear this is my last chaptered fic

let’s fall in love for the night

Kent!reader is having a baby

soft hands hit the jagged ground

friends w/benefits

for you, there’ll be no more crying

anxiety at work + bf jamie

smile at me

there was only one bed!!!!

slow motion double vision in rose blush

happy b-day Jamie Tartt

half-moon eyes

it’s just a question!

can’t hear my thoughts (i cannot hear my thoughts)

I’m allowed to write what i want, ok???

here in my arms

more Kent!reader + a baby named George

coffee at midnight

prick coach wakes you up bc of your prick boyfriend

healing me fine

Just a lil engagement fic for ya

i don’t know anything

if you’re interested in Bea

right words at the right time

It’s a wedding fic

move fast and keep quiet

boxer!reader + smitten Jamie

not saying you’re in love with me

You meet over Bantr!!!

we could be so good

Jamie comforts you after a bad date

i hold it like a grudge

i don’t even know how to describe this one but u might cry

there for you

sick fic

before you go

physio!reader

you’ll probably date her

chronic illness + childhood friends. gotta love it

feel it burn

Gym anxiety

play it back

Old movies of bb Jamie

ours

Thanksgivinggggg

light in the hallway

MORE Kent!reader

stuck by you

Bad family + good Jamie = fic

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso #masterlist

[minispidey]

02: Barbie and the Giftshopist.

Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader. previous part. series masterlist. next part.

02. He's just Steven (and Marc, and Jake)

a/n: i'm not like fully knowledgeable of DID but i did some research! if u guys can give me some tips/ point out my mistakes, i'd be happy to hear it and edit. i just really do need some help 🙏🏻 i've never written a system before and i'd love to hear some advice

(series tags are open!) tags: @3zae-zae3

"Morning, Stevie!" you started calling him Stevie not even a week after you moved in. Sure, he hates it when Donna calls him that, but god did it sound so beautiful when you say it.

You two walk out at the same time everyday, bothered by some of the sellers on the street blocking the door "Excuse us." you say as they made way for you and Steven. A vintage pink corvette was your way of transportation while Steven chooses the bus, but you weren't in a rush today "Stevie! I'll give you a ride. Get in."

Steven blushed, shaking his head "No no, it's fine, love." hearing him call you love made you accidentally kick your leg up. You stared confused at your leg before turning your head towards Steven again "Come on." you pouted.

"I'm serious— oh, bollocks." he drops his keys by accident "I'm alright."

You drove by his side slowly "Stevieee get in. I'm not letting you take the bus when I have a car."

"It's just-"

"Is it because it's pink?"

"No! No, not at all. I don't want to be a bother, that's all." he sighed.

"Steven. Get in." you pull down your sunglasses "I'm not taking a no for an answer."

"Yes, ma'am." seeing you so serious had him flustered. Maybe it's a weird kink he developed after knowing you were a lawyer.

He sat in the passenger's seat and buckled his seatbelt. You smiled at him before fixing your sunglasses "Okay! First stop, the museum."

Steven knew everyone's going to stare at your pink car. He just never expected so many people turning their heads towards you too. You were beautiful and radiated beauty and sunshine, you were an attention grabber.

He just imagines you in all pink in your firm, in a room filled with blue and black suits. He thought it was cute.

"Do you have like, a license? You can take my car on my days off."

"You don't have to." Steven shook his head "Really, you're too kind."

"It's alright! Whatever makes your life easier." you flashed him one of your bright smiles "I can drop you off every day if you wanna. I'm not as busy anyways."

"Take the offer, Steven. Beats having to cramp in every day." Marc says from the reflection of the right side mirror. Steven shook his head before turning towards you "It's fine, love."

"Come on. Rent's hell. Let me save you some commute money, okay? I may be fashionable, but I can be such a cheapskate-" the car comes to a sudden halt as you snap your head towards a shop window. Steven was pushed forward but thankfully held by the seatbelt "What's wrong?" he breathed out.

"What time do you have to go to work?"

"Before ten. Why?"

"It's eight. Do you mind making a short stop with me?"

Shop assistants surrounded you as you worked your magic "Ooh, and this one. Do you have it in pink?" you giggled as you slipped on another heel "Okay so like, the trick is to ignore the assistants." you whisper to Steven "They'll sell you anything in full price. Head straight to the expensive ones before slowly going to the ones on sale."

Steven nodded as he listened to the advice you gave. He felt a bit nervous as you spoke to the shop assistants, you seemed so confident as well. In contrast, Steven felt fairly awkward and he was just observing how you interacted with the people around you.

He was very intrigued by the way you were trying on shoes, the way you were talking about it with the shop staff— he couldn't explain what exactly it was that he found attractive about you, and it was slightly annoying him.

"Chica está loca..." Steven looks at the full-length mirror, Jake was staring right back at him. He raises an eyebrow at Jake "She's crazy. I've never met a girl who wears so much... pink."

Steven was about to talk back when you pull him to the counter, swiping your card and taking your shopping bags "Okay, so like, I got fourty percent off. I have a loyalty voucher." you two made your way back to your car, stuffing your bags in the back "Thanks for coming with me, Stevie. Well, you didn't have a choice anyways."

"It's alright, really. It was... fun." he smiled at you, getting inside the car "Never really shopped with anyone before."

"Really? Not even with friends?"

"Don't have any."

"Aw, how come? You're so fun to be with."

Steven's heart skipped a beat. He stared at you with bright eyes as you drove. He felt his face heat up. When he turns his head to face the side mirror, he finds Marc judging him.

"You've just met her, huh?"

"Shut it..." Steven mumbled under his breath, looking away from the mirror. He watched you, still smiling as you drove. It was like you weren't real, like you were too good to be true. If he had known years ago a woman like you existed, he would've searched for you everywhere. But you landed right outside his flat.

"I don't think I can pick you up after your work, training interns and all." you stopped near the steps "I'll see you later, Stevie."

"You don't have to, it's really okay." he blushed "I'll see you around, love." he got out of your car, looking back at you as he walked up the steps. You pushed your sunglasses down and waved back before driving away.

After an exhausting day, you drove back at 1 am. You shoved your files in the back seat with your shopping bags and rested your face, your signature smile falling from fatigue.

The streets of London were quiet, only the crickets' mating call filling the cold air. You rub your eyes, some of your mascara rubbing off "So tired..." you sighed as you turned the car to the right.

Though your sleepiness immediately went away when you spot a ridiculous ugly-patterned shirt. It was Steven walking back.

"This late?" you whispered to yourself. You sped up a bit to catch up with him "Stevie!" your cheery voice halted the quiet night.

His head turned towards you, a scowl displayed on his face. Though his eyebrows softened upon realizing it was you.

"Don't they have buses out late? You poor thing. Get in." you smiled as you unlocked your car, allowing him to enter.

"I should've totally given you my number. If I only knew you'd be out late like me I would've picked you up." you let out a yawn before continuing "I'm not that busy, I swear. Like, I'm a lawyer but I know how to manage my time."

As you went on and on, Steven just sat there and listened to you.

You parked your car and stepped out, trying to get all your shopping bags in one go. But Steven stepped in and helped "Aw, Stevie, thanks so much!" Steven looked exhausted too.

You talked more in the elevator, detailing how frustrating your day was at your firm before walking to your doors.

"-and he was like no and I was like totes! And he was like noooo and I was like, definitely!" you giggled "Whoever said orange is the new pink is totally disturbed."

You unlocked your door and let Steven in to set your bags down. He went to step out afterwards when you pulled on his sleeve "Thanks so much again, Stevie. You are like, too good to me. We should totally shop again some other time! Goodnight!" you placed a kiss on his cheek before closing your door.

He froze in place, staring at your door before unlocking his own door and getting in. He breathed in the cold air before walking to his fish tank, feeding the two fishes before his vision focused, looking at his reflection on the glass.

"Marc! What was that?!"

Marc looked back at Steven "It's nothing."

"Back off. I really like her, okay? There. I said it."

"You kissed my wife and your crush kissed me on the cheek."

"I said I was sorry."

Jake spoke up, appearing from a small mirror "You like her? Dios mío, that woman wears a lot of pink. What is it about her? Is it because of the car? I have a limousine."

"No! She's- she's really nice."

"Be more specific, amigo. Nice isn't how you like someone."

"Enough." Marc shakes his head "Steven, if you like her then go ahead. But just don't get attached."

"What do you mean?"

"I have Layla— we have Layla. I'm married to her. You can have a crush on your little neighbor, sure, but it's not like you can date her."

"Marc... come on, I have my own life... we have our own lives. What if I decide I want to date her? What if I really really like her, you know?"

"I don't know." he sighed, scratching his eyebrow "It's gonna be complicated, you know that."

Steven let out a sigh, looking down "I-I know... but I just... I just really like her."

Jake on the other hand was deep in this own thoughts. Marc heads to bed when Jake fronts, taking over the body. He cracks his neck before walking out and knocking on your door.

You were just about to take off your makeup when you head his knock. Your fluffy pink slippers squeaked as you made your way to the door, opening it "Stevie? Did you miss me already?" you giggled.

"Do you want to go out with me?" Jake put on his best performance, speaking in a kind of shy British accent.

"Out? Like, a date?" you blinked twice.

"Yes."

Jake understood now. He saw the way your eyes sparkled and your blinding smile "Oh my gosh, yes!" you squealed before covering your mouth, looking side to side across the halls, worried you might've woken up your neighbors "Yes. Let's go out. Uh, maybe lunch? I'm free."

"That's alright with me." he nodded.

"Alright." you couldn't help but smile like a fool "Goodnight, Stevie."

"Goodnight..."

After closing your door, you silently screamed, jumping up and down in excitement. Your exhaustion suddenly disappears as you start planning out your outfit for the morning.

#moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #moon knight system #steven grant x reader #x reader #x you #x bimbo reader #bimbo!reader

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Spilled Ink

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike x f!reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: Uhhh Marcus Pike as the world's softest tattoo artist that's it that's the fic.

Warnings: Lots of tattoo talk, obviously, which includes needles, tattoo guns, pain, mention of bleeding, etc.; reader is explicitly coded as neurodivergent because I said so; yearning; lots of kissing; Marcus Pike being a goddamn menace and he fucking knows it

A/N: @kedsandtubesocks made a post about Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike (original post HERE) and then I wrote 7.5k words in 12 hours, as one does. All credit for the idea goes to the amazing Erika who entrusted me with this idea and THANK GOD SHE DID because I don't think I could have gotten it out of my stupid brain otherwise. Header pics credit go to Erin @perotovar, who made these with Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike in mind and I'm just WOOFWOOFBARKBARKBARKBARKHOWL. Thanks also to @littlebirdsbookshelf who suffers through HOURS of me sending screenshots every time I write anything. Love you <3

Additional Note on Canon: I am pretending that we never got to see Marcus Pike in short sleeves in the show despite it happening twice. He has full sleeves on both his arms in this fic that he covered up during his time working at the FBI. Because sleeves are hot and I said so.

Masterlist

It’s not unusual, these days, to wander down the sidewalk staring at your phone. Some people are texting. Some people are reading the news–because hey, this is D.C. Others, like you on this brisk morning, are watching the little blue dot on a tiny representation of the city streets, trying to find the address you had typed into the search bar.

A text box pops up, informing you of your arrival, and you finally look up.

No wonder it took you so long to find the place–it’s hardly what you expected at all. You always picture tacky neon signs, bars on the windows, undesirables milling about on the street, smoking cigarettes.

Okay, so you admittedly don’t actually know much about tattoos.

All you know is that you want one–a fact you confessed to a friend over lunch the other week: a conversation that led you here.

“Okay, so get one,” she had said bluntly.

“It’s not all that simple,” you had protested. 

“Why?”

“It’s just… it seems like a lot. Mentally. Physically. I’m not sure I have what it takes.”

“They don’t hurt that bad,” your friend had insisted.

“I’m not just talking about that, I’m talking about… y’know, just everything. The noise. New people. Strangers touching me. It just doesn’t seem like something I’ll be able to do.”

“Oh. Ohhh. Because of the… yep. Actually I might have something for you,” she said, taking out her phone and scrolling through that app that drives you crazy–it’s overstimulation in a convenient package–full of noise, chaos, and flashing lights. 

She must have seen you pull a face, because she held out her hand placatingly. 

“Just finding the name of the place, hang on. It’s a shop right here in DC that went ‘viral’ for this video of a guy with autism who wanted a tattoo to commemorate his dad, but he was only comfortable lying on the floor–so the tattoo artist just… got on the floor with him! It was really cute, and anyway I guess he caters to all sorts of people, so… I dunno. Check it out.”

And here you are. Checking it out.

The words “Government-Issued Ink” are spelled out on large windows, and the punny name–apt for its location not far from the Capitol–makes you snort. 

The shop is bright, warm, and inviting–tearing down your outdated preconceptions that tattoo places must always be run-down, dark, and dingy. It’s also empty this early in the morning, save for a lone figure in the back, seated at a well-worn desk, his head pitched forward over his work.

He’s so enveloped in whatever he’s sketching that he must not have heard the light ringing of the bell as you had entered. You watch him for a few moments–taking in the graceful movements of his hand and the way his fingers grasp the pen. He’s dressed in a plain blue button-down dress shirt, which also doesn’t fit your assumed archetype of ‘Tattoo Artist.’ You can’t see his face; his head is leaning forward too much and a few short locks of dark brown hair obscure your view.

Suddenly wondering if you’re being incredibly rude, staring at someone without announcing your presence, you open your mouth to introduce yourself.

“Um.”

While not exactly eloquent, it serves its purpose. The man startles and looks up in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, jumping to his feet and letting the pen clatter carelessly to the desk. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s okay,” you shake your head rapidly. “I was, um…” You blink a few times, your nerves getting the better of you as the man comes around his desk to approach the front of the store.

“Interested in a walk-in consultation?” he offers, holding out his hands in a gesture that could either be an open invitation or a shrug.

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I was thinking about getting, uh, a tattoo, and I was told this shop was… good. With tattoos. And other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” he chuckles, smiling warmly. 

“You know… with people who… might not be good at getting tattoos.”

“What makes you think you aren’t ‘good at getting tattoos?’”

“A hunch,” you shrug, expelling a little huff of laughter through your nose. “I was told to ask for a Marcus Pike?”

The man’s smile widens. “You’re looking at him.”

Oh. You aren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. Marcus Pike is well-dressed and clean-cut, almost startlingly so. You scan up and down, looking for any sign that this man could possibly be a tattoo artist, but the only evidence you can find is a small black target inked between his thumb and forefinger on his right hand. Don’t… tattoo artists usually have more ink? Of course, with him almost completely covered from head to toe, you obviously can’t create a full picture of Marcus’s skin, but the fact that he wouldn’t look out of place in one of the nearby government buildings still takes you by surprise.

You realize you haven’t said anything in response, but Marcus doesn’t seem to be bothered by your deer-in-headlights stare. Instead, he grins again and steps sideways, extending his arm in a silent invitation to come deeper into the shop.

“Come on in. If you’d like, go ahead and sit wherever you want, and we can talk about it. No pressure,” he promises. “I’m not here to push ink on you like a used car salesman; I’m here to collaborate with you. Figure out what you really want. And, if what you want ends up being ‘nothing,’ I totally support that, too.”

There’s something innate and intrinsic about Marcus Pike that sets you completely at-ease. You cast your eyes around, taking in the eclectic seating in the shop–all mismatched, all different colors, styles, and shapes, but all looking incredibly comfortable and inviting. You settle on a giant turquoise beanbag that seems to swallow you whole when you sink down into it, and Marcus grins and sits down in the bright yellow saucer chair beside it. 

“So at the very least, you’re thinking about a tattoo,” Marcus leads. “Can you tell me about that?”

You nod, feeling encouraged by his openness. “Yeah, so… my mom, she passed away a couple of years ago, and it just seemed like I should… memorialize her in some way. Like, in a way that leaves its mark on me like she left a mark on me, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of getting some kind of permanent art that commemorates her.”

“That’s a great idea,” Marcus says softly. “Lots of people choose to do that after losing a loved one.”

“Yeah, the only problem is that I’m not good with um… noise, or people touching me, or… pain, really,” you confess. “I’m like, the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.”

Marcus chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Personally, I don’t believe that. I think anyone can get a tattoo done if they want it, provided they get it done in a way that feels safe and comfortable.”

“My friend, she uh, recommended your shop because apparently you’ve done some stuff for people with autism and it went viral on TikTok…” you ramble, “and I thought maybe that meant you’d be a good fit for… for me.”

Understanding flickers in Marcus’s expression, and he nods, a small smile spreading across his face. “I hope so,” he says with quiet earnesty. 

A beat passes–just a few seconds of silence–but something small and soft and warm settles down between the two of you, and the comforting feeling sinks down into the pit of your stomach and stays there, latent and waiting.

“So, let’s talk design,” Marcus announces. “Do you have anything in mind? Any images or ideas, however vague? I can do anything from replicating designs to building something completely from scratch for you.”

“I like the idea of it being a unique piece,” you tell him.

“I prefer original designs too,” he says. “Not to sound incredibly cheesy, but there’s no one like you, you know? In–In the general sense, of course.” He chuckles sheepishly, looking down at his hands. “I like knowing each person that comes in here leaves with something unique. Something all their own—I’m rambling,” he says quickly, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. “One thing about me is that I talk too much. Anyway–did you have any ideas you can share with me about what you’d like?”

“I don’t have a good image in my mind,” you confess anxiously. After all, how can he build a design based on the swirling, disjointed images in your brain? “I think I want it to be colorful, like she was. And… I keep getting thoughts about, I dunno, the cyclical nature of life, something corny like that.”

Marcus laughs. “Sometimes the corny stuff is what sticks with us. So, colorful and commenting on the cyclical nature of life,” he lists off on his fingers, still grinning. “Anything else?”

“I’ve looked through your galleries online,” you tell him. “You have a few that look like watercolor paintings, and I really love how they look.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m gonna throw out an idea—Feel free to tell me ‘no,’ because I’m just brainstorming here, but I keep thinking about a tree of life. The leaves could easily be done in watercolor and could be any combination of colors you want.” His right hand twitches–as if reaching for a phantom pen–as he speaks, and his gaze seems to be fixed on a spot on the wall, his eyes glimmering with enthusiasm as he starts to speak faster.

“You could have the leaves and the roots connecting on the sides, making a circle, maybe even having her birth date and death date embedded in the roots…” He blinks rapidly a few times, as if dispelling the image from his head. “Anyway. That’s a possibility.”

“I think that’s amazing,” you say softly, watching Marcus with something like amazement in your expression. “Actually… I really like that idea. It sounds… perfect.”

“Oh,” he intones softly, looking at you in surprise as a bright, toothy smile breaks across his face. “Oh. Well then, let’s do it, huh? One final question: where do you envision getting it?”

“I was thinking on my shoulder. Here,” you indicate, pressing your hand to the skin of your upper arm. “That way it’s visible when I want it to be, but easily hidden if for some reason it needs to be.”

“That’s perfect,” Marcus says. “Plus, the circular design will go really well there. Okay. Great. Um, some things to know about the process. We’ll exchange emails, and you can contact me at any time with any questions, concerns, ideas, changes, anything. In the meantime, I’ll get started on a design for you, and I’ll share initial sketches that you can give feedback on before I move to the final stages of the design. It’ll take a couple of weeks, maximum, depending on any changes you ask for. My only request is that you’re always honest with your feedback–don’t tell me you like something when you don’t. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings.” He grins widely. “After that, you book an appointment on a day that works best for you. I almost always book the whole day for the appointment to factor in time for copious breaks and making sure you feel comfortable. Does that work for you?”

You nod eagerly.

“Last question,” Marcus says. “Is it okay if I get a close-up picture of your upper arm? That way I can make sure it fits the curvature of your arm, it’s the right size, stuff like that.”

“Mhmm,” you nod again, pressing your lips together and trying not to look nervous. Thank god you wore a sleeveless top under your sweater.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he insists.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say quickly, removing just the one arm from your outer layer and pulling it aside. 

You watch as Marcus grabs a little ‘point-and-shoot’ digital camera from his desk and comes back to your side.

“This is just used for design purposes,” he promises. “I delete them after the design is done.”

“I trust you.”

His resulting expression could light an entire room. “Thank you,” he answers quietly. “Okay. Super close-up, just your arm. Cool?”

“Cool,” you confirm, and you hear the camera click several times.

“Actually,” Marcus says, still staring thoughtfully at your bare shoulder. “Would it be okay if I made a couple of little marks–washable marker, of course–to make sure the dimensions are how you want them?”

Oh. You normally don’t like it when people touch you. You knew it was going to happen eventually, obviously, because how else was he going to get the design onto your skin? But it was something you had planned on working yourself up to, not something you had to do today. On the other hand, something about Marcus’s entire bearing makes you inexplicably ache to be touched by him. 

“‘No’ is an acceptable response,” he interrupts your dithering with a quiet reassurance.

And actually, that works to seal the deal for you, and your decision is made in an instant. 

“Yes. You can. That’s fine.” And, to your surprise, you mean it.

Marcus seems just as surprised at your answer–his eyebrows shoot upward almost comically at your response.

“Okay,” he says softly. “That’s perfect. Hang on.” He jumps up again to retrieve a black marker–from what was clearly a children’s set of washable markers. He meets your eyes, and again you take in that sincere, earnest, patient look that endeared you to this man from the moment you entered the little shop.

“Is it okay if I touch your arm?” he asks quietly, still watching you carefully as you nod.

“Tell me if that changes,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze to your shoulder again. His touch, when you feel it, is just as warm as you’d imagined. He’s gentle, cautious, and when he speaks again, his voice remains at that same, soft volume and tone. “I’m envisioning being from about here–” he makes a little black dot, “–to here. What do you think?” 

You nod. It’s the perfect size–large enough to cover your shoulder but stopping just above the point where the sleeve of a regular t-shirt would hit.

“That’s perfect.”

“Okay, so that’s–” he tsks softly, measuring the distance with his finger, “–about four inches, so that same distance across, and–” he makes two more marks on either side of your shoulder. “About like that. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you answer, smiling with enthusiasm. 

“Great! Let me just…” Marcus draws a few short lines denoting the proposed boundary of your design, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you at the cool tip of the marker on your skin. 

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “One more picture?”

At your nod, the camera clicks one last time. 

“Like I said, that’ll wash off with soap, no problem,” he promises with a smile. “Thanks for that, makes it easier to scale.” He grabs two business cards off his desk and hands them to you. “Can you write your email on this one for me? And you can keep the other one. Like I said, anything you need, just email me. And uh, barring that, you’ll be hearing from me in a week or so with a rough sketch. Okay?”

You scribble down your email and hand the card back to Marcus before pulling your sweater back over your bare arm. You slip the other card into your purse and rise to your feet. “Thanks,” you say, nodding to him.

“Hey, no–thank you,” Marcus returns. “Thanks for entrusting me with this. I mean it.”

Surprising yourself, you extend your hand toward him, and, when he takes it, you feel enveloped with warmth again.

“Thanks,” repeat, a little bit more breathlessly this time, before turning and hurrying out of the shop before you can embarrass yourself any further.

Your shoulder still tingles from his touch hours later.

Rather than it being a week before you hear from him, you receive an email from Marcus Pike just three days later.

Subject: Initial Sketch

Hello,

Please see attached. It’s just pencil for now, but I made a note of the general blocks of color I was thinking for the leaves. You’ll see what I mean when you open the file. Sorry, I know it’s a pretty rough sketch, I was just excited to get this to you. I look forward to your feedback!

Best regards,

Marcus :) 

Eagerly, you open the attachment. First of all, there’s nothing “rough” about the sketch other than the fact that it’s just penciled in. The details are already so intricate, and you find yourself smiling in amazement as you take in the design.

It’s beautiful.

Brackets, each labeled with a different color in Marcus’s neat, tidy handwriting, surround the top of the tree. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Violet. 

At the bottom of the image is another handwritten note: *All the colors will blend together and the result should look like a rainbow.

Tears spring, unbidden, to your eyes, as you feverishly type out your response.

Subject: Re: Initial Sketch

Marcus,

I really don’t know what to say other than it’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect. Made me tear up. Look forward to seeing it in color.

Thanks again!

Not even five minutes go by before your phone vibrates with another email.

Subject: Re: Re: Initial Sketch

I’m sorry if I made you cry! Obviously wasn’t my intention but I’m glad the design evokes emotion :) I’ll move forward with the design as-is and you should hear from me soon with a full-color image.

Marcus :) 

You can’t wait. The next week and a half stretches out excruciatingly, but finally, on a Wednesday evening, you receive another email. 

Subject: Final Design

Hey there!

Hope you’ve been doing well. Thought you might like to see the final design of your tattoo ;) See attached and let me know if anything needs to be changed. Be critical! Don’t hold anything back! Once we agree on a final piece, we’ll get you on the calendar.

Best regards,

Marcus :) 

Your mind skims over the fact that Marcus used a winking-face emoji in your email, because you honestly aren’t equipped to process that right now, and open the attachment instead. This time, you start crying in earnest. It’s perfect. The colors are so vibrant, and they make the tree look as though it’s in a constant state of movement. Your mom’s birth and death dates are entwined seamlessly into the roots themselves, in a way that makes them not readily apparent at first glance, but seeming to just appear out of nowhere upon further inspection. 

Subject: Re: Final Design

Marcus,

If I had any critical feedback, I would share it, I promise. But I have nothing. This is everything I’d imagined and more, and it means the world to me.

Thank you so much.

After a few more messages back and forth, you settle on a date one month out. 

You can’t wait.

As excited as you’ve been for the past month, when you step foot back into Marcus’s little tattoo parlor, the air of finality makes your body thrum with anxiety.

You’re really doing this.

Marcus is at the back of the shop, busying himself with setting up his workspace when you enter. Today, he’s wearing a dark green henley that looks just as soft as he is, and seems to complement his features even more. As soon as he hears the chimes, his head snaps up, and he grins widely. 

“Hey!” he calls out excitedly. “Just getting everything ready. Do you want something to drink before we get started? I’ve got water, juice, soda…” he trails off, waving his hand in the direction of a mini-fridge in the corner. 

“I’m okay for now.”

“Sounds good, but when we take a break, you should have some juice or something else with a bit of sugar in it, okay?” You nod, and he continues. “Okay! Where do you want to sit?”

“Don’t I have to sit in the chair over there?” you ask, gesturing to the traditional chair and bench near Marcus’s work table. 

“Not at all,” he protests. “The table is mobile, I bring it to wherever you feel comfortable.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I’ll go ahead and sit in the chair, though.” Of all the options, it looks like the easiest–you aren’t entirely sure how Marcus would be able to comfortably tattoo you whilst sitting on a bean bag chair. 

“Your choice,” he insists, spreading his hands out in an open and unguarded stance.

You settle in the chair and he sits down on a rolling stool beside you. 

“Okay, so I’ve got a stencil of your design here,” Marcus says, holding up a paper with an outline of the tree for you to see. “It’ll transfer onto your skin exactly how you want it to go, and I’ll just trace it. Make sense?”

“Yep,” you nod.

“Before I do that, though, I have to make sure nothing interferes with the design, including tiny little hairs.” He holds up a pink safety razor. “Are you comfortable with me doing this for you?”

At your tentative nod of consent, Marcus leans forward and gently swipes the razor up and down your shoulder until he’s satisfied. His eyes dart between your skin and your face the entire time–making sure you’re still with him. After he’s done, he talks you through the stencil–confirming its location, gently applying it to your shoulder, and then holding up a mirror for you to approve. 

“It’s great,” you whisper excitedly.

Marcus returns your smile and begins to absentmindedly roll up his sleeves in preparation to start working–-and the question about tattoos that you’d asked yourself upon first seeing the man is suddenly and unexpectedly answered.

You can’t help the soft sound of surprise that escapes from you when you catch the colorful patchwork of designs on both of his forearms, disappearing under the pushed-up henley and suggesting that they go all the way up. 

Marcus catches you staring and grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“I didn’t know,” you say softly. “You keep them covered up.”

“Force of habit,” Marcus shrugs. “I had a desk job for a long time.”

“Doing what?” you ask, curiously. You can’t see the man doing anything but this.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he jokes, winking in your direction. 

Ignoring how the wink makes your heart stutter in your chest, you bark out a laugh at his answer. “What? Were you like a secret agent or something?” you tease.

“Special Agent,” he corrects, grinning. 

“Get out,” you deadpan. “I can’t imagine you as a Fed.”

Marcus shrugs, giving you another one of his boyish, crooked smiles. “Would’ve been fifteen years this year had I not finally seen the writing on the wall and run for the hills a couple of years ago.”

“What made you leave?” 

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “That’s a long story. How sensitive are you to noise?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“Uh, I dunno. Kind of depends on the day and the situation,” you shrug.

“Fair. Well, I usually let newcomers listen to what the gun actually sounds like, so there are no surprises. If it’s too loud, I do have noise canceling headphones.”

And miss out on hearing Marcus’s soft-spoken reassurances? No matter how loud the tattoo gun is, you’d rather endure it just to be able to hear him talk. 

Marcus turns the instrument on, and the room is filled with a mild buzzing sound. On your worst days, admittedly, it would probably grate upon your nerves, but you’re feeling relaxed, comfortable, and excited about your new tattoo.

“It’s not bad,” you tell him truthfully. 

“Perfect,” he grins. “Are you all set to get started?”

Heart rate increasing with pleasant anticipation, you nod giddily. 

“I’m obviously gonna be touching your arm a lot,” Marcus says, “so let me know if you need a break from that, the noise, the needle, anything.” Seeing your solemn nod, he continues. “I’m gonna do a little dot right here to let you see how it feels, okay?” He gently touches his index finger to your skin to indicate where. 

“Okay.”

The gun turns on again, and Marcus presses it lightly against your skin for just a second before pulling back.

“...That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I thought it would hurt more,” you confess.

Marcus laughs. “Well, the same feeling over and over again in a small area can start to be pretty uncomfortable. I’ll check in regularly to make sure you’re still doing fine. Good?”

You smile widely. “I’m really excited.”

His smile softens, his gaze becoming warmer and more tender. “I’m glad.”

His other hand gently cradles your arm as Marcus leans in, a look of intense concentration settling over his features as he begins the design. Engrossed in his work, you take the time to study his forearms. They’re a hodgepodge of designs, clearly done at different times and by different artists, but you can see themes throughout. He likes classic styles, you can tell, and in between some of the more traditional works you can see beautiful references to an assortment of famous paintings. A Dali melting clock here. A sunflower clearly inspired by Van Gogh there. On his opposite bicep, you can just barely make out the side of one design that looks like it might be of a Greek statue. Tilting your head, you realize it’s Nike alighting on the bow of a warship, and you inhale sharply. That’s one of your favorite sculptures.

“Still okay?” Marcus asks, glancing up at you with concern in his eyes.

“Sorry.” You shake your head quickly. 

“Just checking,” he says softly. “Try to be just a little more still, okay?”

“Sorry,” you repeat, laughing sheepishly. 

“Don’t be, you’re doing great.”

You try to fight the way your entire body seems to grow warm at Marcus’s praise, but you can’t stop the way the feeling stampedes through you. You’re being ridiculous, you chastise yourself. He’s doing his job, and you’re getting all moony-eyed.

In order to distract yourself, you continue playing ‘Spot the Famous Artwork’ on Marcus’s sleeves–although, as distractions go, it’s not your best work. You can’t help but focus in on the way his forearm cords with muscle as he holds the tattoo gun, controlling each movement so delicately and precisely, creating a beautiful, intricate design on your shoulder.

After finding a bit of yellow patchwork that's clearly a reference to Gustav Klimt's The Kiss near his right elbow, you break your silence.

“You like art, huh?”

It seems like a stupid thing to say to a fucking tattoo artist of all people, and you immediately kick yourself internally for saying something so obvious. 

Marcus glances up, and, seeing how your eyes are focused on his own ink, smiles. “Always have,” he murmurs, returning his gaze to your shoulder. “Some of those are years-old.”

“Is that how you got into being a tattoo artist?” you ask.

“Sort of,” he answers, brow pinched in concentration as he continues working. “I uh, apprenticed for a shop in college to pay the bills before going to Quantico for training.”

“You’re really talented,” you tell him. “I was surprised to find out you haven’t been doing this your whole life.”

Marcus hums his appreciation as he carefully fills in a root. 

“Can I ask what made you join the FBI instead of opening your own place after college?”

He huffs a little laugh through his nose. “Parents would have killed me, going to college and then doing nothing with it.”

“Running a small business isn’t exactly doing nothing,” you point out.

“Well, public opinion on tattoos wasn’t what it is now,” Marcus says. “They were scandalized by my apprenticeship, but it paid the bills, so they couldn’t complain too loudly.”

“Was it them who wanted you to join the FBI?”

“Mm, not so much,” he murmurs. “It was more like ‘whatever you want to do, so long as you can make a lucrative career out of it.’ Being an artist wasn’t one of those things, so in lieu of becoming one myself, I decided I wanted to protect them instead.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Protect them how?”

Marcus grins up at you and waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Art crimes,” he answers. “Being an art detective was kind of in the limelight in the early ‘nineties after the famous Gardner Museum theft, and I got swept up in the craze.”

“So you spent the last fifteen-ish years recovering stolen art,” you fill in for him.

“Stolen, forged, looted, illegally traded or smuggled…” Marcus offers, not breaking his concentration again. He wasn’t wrong–the repeated drag of the needle across what felt like the same square centimeter of your skin was starting to wear on you. 

“Uh-huh,” you say, forcing the discomfort out of your tone.

Noticing the tightness in your voice immediately, Marcus’s movements stop. “Feeling okay?”

You shrug.

The gun switches off.

“You gotta be honest about how you’re feeling,” he reminds you. “I might be able to create designs based off of customers’ vague descriptions, but that doesn’t make me a mind-reader.”

“It’s a little uncomfortable, but I can endure it,” you insist.

“There’s no need to endure something that’s painful,” Marcus argues with an amused smile. “Even if it involves choosing to repeatedly jamming a needle into your skin.”

You can’t help but laugh, and your heart swells when he joins you.

“C’mere,” he says. “Let me show you something.”

You let him lead you to the other side of the shop, where he stops in front of a large storage cabinet that you'd assumed held various supplies. When he opens it, however, you find that isn’t the case at all.

No, the entire cabinet is filled to the brim with a collection of stuffed animals just as eclectic and varied as the furniture. There's also a couple of shoeboxes filled with every manner of fidget toy you could ever imagine. 

"You can grab one, if you want. I know it might feel kind of goofy, but I promise they help with the pain."

"Okay," you breathe. Your gaze lingers first on the IKEA shark, then on a very soft-looking cactus with an adorable grumpy expression, but when your gaze lands on the largest and arguably oddest toy in the collection, your hands can't help but move toward it. 

"The big guy, huh?" Marcus laughs, taking the giant squid off of the shelf and placing it in your arms. You have to laugh at how large and ungainly it is; its massive black eyes stare vacantly back at you, but the effect is dopey, rather than menacing. 

"Where do you get all of these?" you ask in amazement. 

"Most of them are gifts from past clients, including that one," Marcus says, indicating the squid. "But I think he originally came from the Smithsonian. I was told his name is 'Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.'"

"Thank you," you say in a small, appreciative voice.

"'S'fine," Marcus shrugs. "Feel up to continuing?"

You nod, looking down at your partially-inked shoulder. "Guess you didn't get very far before I had to stop," you remark, somewhat self-deprecatingly. 

"It's not a race," your artist says earnestly. "We've got the whole day, and we go at your pace. You're paying me, after all." Another wink in your direction.

"Yeah," you nod, confidence growing again. "Yeah, okay." You plop down in your seat, with Cthulhu in your lap, and Marcus takes his place beside you. 

“Gonna turn this back on again,” he announces as the now-familiar buzz fills the room, “and I’m gonna touch your arm–” his fingers wrap warmly and gently around your skin, “–annnd here we go.” 

The needle scratches insistently against your skin, but it isn’t so bad–not really, not with the hilarious giant squid on your lap and Marcus’s gentle, soothing voice in your ear. He talks while he works, sometimes asking you questions about your own life–to which he listens intently and always seems to have follow-up questions–and sometimes telling you stories of his own. You discuss art, obviously, but also music, books, movies, and baseball of all things.

You find yourself wondering if he has this type of easy rapport with everyone who comes in, but you assume he must. He might be the most disarming person you’ve ever met, and it’s hardly a stretch to believe he’s like this with everyone. Still, there’s an ugly, jealous part of you that wishes the connection between you was unique, special. That he’s only this warm with you. 

Marcus was right–squeezing the stuffed toy on your lap is a perfect distraction from the discomfort of the needle, and before long, the sensation fades into the background. As the time drags on, though, the persistent drone of the tattoo gun causes an ache to creep in and settle between your eyes. You take in a deep breath through your nose, count to three, and exhale slowly through your mouth.

Marcus glances up, watching you for a split-second before cutting power to the gun and stretching his back with a satisfied sigh. 

“Break time,” he announces. “Hand’s getting a bit sore.” He shoots you a knowing glance and another one of those crooked smiles. “And you should probably have a little something to drink, maybe a snack.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you say gratefully as he walks over to the little fridge.

“Apple juice?” he asks, holding up a little juice box that looks slightly comical in his large hands. When you nod enthusiastically, he hands it to you.

His fingers brush yours.

If it were anyone else, you’d recoil, but it’s him. It might just be the forced proximity, but…

You’re developing quite the crush on Marcus Pike.

Shoving the thought aside for the moment, you stab the straw into the little hole and take a long sip. Marcus settles down beside you with his own choice–a little can of vegetable juice–and holds it up in a silent ‘cheers.’

Feeling emboldened, you ask the question that’s been burning in your mind since you started.

“So what made you leave the whole ‘helping other artists’ thing behind and start a tattoo business instead?”

Marcus presses his lips together, and for a moment, you fear you’ve crossed a boundary. Just before you’re about to apologize profusely, though, he speaks.

“Have you ever just… woken up one morning, and realized that everything you were working toward, everything you thought you wanted in life… was a lie?”

“I… I don’t know,” you confess quietly, surprised at the emotion behind his words.

“Happened to me,” he laughs softly. “I had moved to DC for what I thought was my dream job, with who I thought was–” he shakes his head, as though dispelling an unpleasant thought. “I had spent my entire life checking boxes: College degree? Check. Well-paying job? Check. House? Check. Check, check check. I spent so much time trying to get ahead, like life was some kind of game to be won. If I said all the right things, did all the right things, if I did everything right… I’d have the life I wanted.”

“What was the life you wanted?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“It was bullshit, is what it was. Saw one too many rom-coms as a kid, I suppose. I thought I was after the picket fence, the dog, the wife and two-point-five kids, that sort of thing. And one morning I woke up, realized that… that relentless pursuit of something I couldn’t even hold–it was all bullshit.”

“So you just… quit?”

“I quit. I wanted to create things again. I wanted to feel inspired. After a bit of uh… frantic soul-searching before I ran out of money entirely, I sold my stupid, too-big condo that I hated and bought this shop instead.”

“Did it work?”

“Well, I’m not bankrupt yet,” Marcus says dryly.

“No, I mean… did you feel inspired again?”

“I did. I do. So very much so,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and that comfortable warmth that had settled in between you the first time you had met him… grows. Mutates. Until the warm, tingling feeling feels a lot more like electricity.

An unspoken moment seems to pass through you, but then Marcus clears his throat roughly, setting the empty can aside and standing again, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Wanna keep going?”

Breathlessly, you nod. 

In no time at all, you’re settled back in the chair with one of Marcus’s warm, strong, large hands cradling your arm as the other gently wields the tattoo gun. As he starts to fill in and blend the colors, the pain starts to increase, and you worry one of the fuzzy tentacles back and forth in your hand as you grit your teeth.

“I know, I know,” Marcus soothes quietly. “The color’s the worst part, but you’re being so good for me.”

It helps you to watch him work, so you do. He’s blending in the colors now, and you watch with interest as it starts to take shape. It’s so mesmerizing that you hardly even notice the buzz of the gun or the light sting of the needle anymore.

“And you said you ‘weren’t good at tattoos,’” he teases gently, noticing your obvious interest. 

“Did I say that?” you laugh, teasing back.

“I believe your words were, ‘I’m like the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.’” he reminds you. “And look at you now, huh?”

You duck your head at his praise, unable to withstand the intensity and honesty in his gaze.

“Doing okay after all, I guess,” you say with a sheepish smile.

“You’re doing amazing,” Marcus corrects, smiling warmly. “The type of client any artist dreams of.”

You don’t know how to respond to the things this man says to you. Stunned and at a loss for words, you stare awkwardly at your hand where it still wraps around Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.

“I’m sorry.” The words are soft, concerned. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just meant that your enthusiasm and your curiosity is the stuff that makes me want to be an artist in the first place.”

“Are you saying I inspire you?” you try to tease, but it falls flat.

Just audibly, over the hum of the tattoo gun, you hear his whispered response. 

“Yes.” 

As Marcus wipes away the last of the stray ink on the purple bit of tree, the tattoo gun suddenly switches off. The silence is almost shocking, and you blink rapidly in confusion.

“Break time?” you ask.

Marcus chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “It’s all done.”

“It is?” you ask, although you can see the answer for yourself in the large mirrored wall to your right. 

“How’s it feel?” he asks.

“My arm kind of aches,” you confess, “but oh my God, Marcus… it’s beautiful.”

It’s his turn to preen under your praise, the tips of his ears blushing pink as he grins back at you.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says softly. “Here, let me give you a little something for the pain.” 

He squeezes a glob of light-green cooling gel and coats the angry skin with the barest of touches. “Still okay?” he asks, glancing up at you for confirmation.

After the harshness of the needle, the soft press of his fingers is more soothing than ever, and you have to resist the urge to sigh and melt into his touch. 

“Yes,” you whisper.

“You’re going to want to keep this covered for a couple of hours, up to overnight,” Marcus says as he carefully applies a dressing to your shoulder–still softly, but more businesslike than before as he walks you through all of the instructions for care. “Once you take this off tomorrow, you’ll probably see some fluid leaking from it–that’s totally normal. It’s blood, plasma, and extra ink, and it should stop after a few days before it starts to scab over.

 “You’ll want to keep it from drying out; I’d recommend scent-free, dye-free lotion if you don’t already have some,” he continues. “Wash it twice a day and put lotion on after. When it starts to scab, I can’t stress this enough: don’t pick the scabs.” He gives you a serious look. “Repeat that back to me.”

“Don’t pick the scabs.”

“If you do, you could cause it to scar, or even pull out the ink. One more time for me,” he prompts, and you get the feeling that this is always the sticking point in his speech.

“Don’t pick the scabs,” you repeat.

“It’ll take three to four months for the lower layers of skin to completely heal,” Marcus tells you. “During that time, keep it out of the sun, keep it hydrated, and you’re in the clear.”

“And don’t pick the scabs,” you say teasingly. 

Marcus winks at you. “Exactly. Any other questions for me?”

“No, just… thank you. It’s amazing,” you tell him. “You did such an incredible job.”

“Hard not to, when I have such a beautiful canvas.”

Your eyes dart up, expecting to see a teasing glint in his eyes, but all you can see is heartfelt sincerity. You swallow thickly, and he tracks the movement, his eyes dropping down, then back up to meet your eyes. Is it… not just you? Does he feel it, too? Realization slams through you and threatens to overload all of your systems. Marcus’s lips are parted slightly, and the look in his eyes… it’s desire.

“Marcus…”

“Wait,” he says urgently. “Hang on. Come… come over here for a minute, let me–” he dashes awkwardly over to the till on the counter and gives you your total. Frowning in confusion–he wants to do this now? Interrupting that electric moment that had passed between you?–you dutifully swipe your card and numbly take the receipt.

“Now you’re no longer my client,” Marcus explains softly. “I–sorry–I was about to throw caution to the wind and kiss you, and I didn’t… I didn’t want to be unethical, I–”

“Yes,” you say simply, giving your response to his un-asked question.

It’s all he needs to stride forward, gently take your face in his warm palms, and, seeing no hesitation in your eyes even as he searches your face desperately—presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is as soft and as tender as the man himself, which hardly surprises you. Your eyes slip closed as his lips move against you with aching caution. He’s careful in all things, including this–taking your cues, giving you the lead, letting you feel everything he’s giving you.

All too quickly, he pulls back–but his eyes only sweep your face again, a growing smile on his lips as he sees nothing but want reflected back at him. 

When he lowers his lips to yours again, he’s less gentle. One large hand leaves your face too hook around your waist, pulling you closer, closer–and when the proximity causes you to gasp softly, Marcus is ready. His tongue gently slips between your parted lips and you practically melt into him. When your knees buckle, his strong arms are what keep you standing upright, and still–

He can’t seem to stop kissing you. 

You break before he does–pulling back to suck in a few shaky, heaving breaths, and he smiles through his own labored breathing.

“I wanted–I–” he begins, before hastily pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as if he can’t help but do so. 

“I’ve thought of you,” he tries again. “I thought of you like this for the last month,” the confession finally spills out. “I wanted to–wanted to kiss you so badly all day, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t let myself.” He kisses you again. “But now,” he promises, whispering the words against your mouth. “Now I’m gonna get my fill.”

To punctuate his statement with one of your own, you slant your head and deepen the kiss, wrapping one hand around Marcus’s neck and pulling him closer still. He makes a soft noise in his throat, and the grip on your waist tightens. You lose yourself completely to the feel of his tongue sliding slowly against yours, until he suddenly pulls back.

“I’m doing this all wrong,” he whispers–although he’s still smiling. “I wanted to ask you out to dinner, first.”

“So ask me,” you say with a giggle.

“Come have dinner with me,” Marcus murmurs, shaking his head in quiet amusement as he steals another gentle kiss. “Right now. Tonight.”

“You might have to open all the doors,” you tease. “My arm hurts.”

Another kiss.

“I’m wounded that you think I wouldn’t open every door regardless.”

“Are you always such a gentleman?” you remark with a wry smile.

Another. 

“Well,” Marcus grins wolfishly. He places on last, lingering kiss on your lips and then makes a show of offering his arm. “Not always.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Stop i feel like it would be so cute if you wrote about how one of the twins (bill or Tom) fell in love at first sight with reader and just became infatuated with them since

I feel like Tom would be such a cute option tho because YKNOW he’s a playboy BUT I FEEL LIKE IT WOULD BE SO CUTE IF HE JUST FELL IN LOVE WITH READER AND NEVER LOOKED BACK

Love at First Sight

It felt so weird for everyone involved

Tom Kaulitz, the fucking playboy, was in love??

It was so shocking that even Bill feared what was going on

Tom didn't even know how to feel at first

He was used to flirting with fans, living how he wanted and not giving a shit

Until he saw you

He saw you and immediately it felt like something paused the entire world and he could only see you

He didn't even talk to you yet! 

You just looked so MF beautiful

He couldn't help but stare at you

Especially when he heard your laugh along with seeing your smile

He couldn't help but freeze up for a minte

It was probably at a concert you went to

You asked for a autograph and legit had to ask twice to break him out of his staring at you

Once he got over that, he started flirting a bit to try and see what was going on

You even flirted a bit back, but not like the other fangirls did

Not tryna be that girl, but you caught his attention quickly

Be it your personality, your style, how you looked, carried yourself or confidence

You did something right that night

Tom legit was pacing wondering if his heart was broken because it didn't seem the same

He seized his opportunity and somehow got your number

The rest I shall leave up to you

After y'all get together he is so smug and flirty and proud he got you

Fans were so shocked when they saw he was in a relationship

Especially when pictures of you guys were leaked

And you can tell he was visibly whipped!

You guys were shopping? 

He's holding your bags with his card in your hand

He's holding your hand, hugging you, kissing your cheek, has his hand in your back pocket, dodging paparazzi with you and almost shamelessly making out practically 

He is not scared to flaunt this mf relationship because he can and he is somehow so happy in it

He didn't think he would actually find that specific great love

You somehow changed his perception of love

He will kiss you, hold you, be held by you, bring you onstage, run back to you backstage

Somehow he will always find you and you cannot escape

So many pictures of him just staring at you with somehow such a loving look in his eyes

He changed somehow so much and the band is almost thanking you

Fans are always up your ass for "changing" him

Mostly crazed fangirls, but neither of you can give a shit

He found you, and somehow, you let him have his chance

Treats you so well as to not risk losing you

Feels so bad in arguments

Like, babe, don't fight

And mother fucker snatched it and will not let go

He turns into such a child

Wanting his hair played with, somehow making you match with him, sleeping on top of you on the bus, sharing hotel room

Will do what you ask no matter what it is somehow

Nobody shall dare get in his way

Tom has a mission when it regards you and he shall complete it no matter what

He turned into such a loveable simp and we cannot handle

Will legit carry you around if you want

Buys you whatever the hell you want, ho don't care about the cost

Has fuck you money that he will willingly go broke spending on you

Loves the smiles and the laughs you bring him

He feels like such a sap at times but loves having you hold his face

He legit wants to just be so close to you that he can crawl into your skin at times it's so clingy

You have literally fell asleep almost inside of his shirt, both slithered inside of the giant oversized shirt on a couch

He loves the nights you guys just stay up and do anything and everything

He is secretly so corny, flirty and charming it's like a total other persona

#tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel georg #gustav tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #bill kaulitz

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

History Repeats Itself

masterlist

note: first jess one-shot!!! (and i'm actually proud of it???) also i say their baby is one but i don't know babies to well so if she's too advanced for a one year old, just cut me some slack

warnings: teen pregnancy, food/eating

word count: 4.7 k

♡ summary: Being a teen mom is hard but without any help it's even harder, after saving up enough she can finally move to Stars Hollow to be closer to her baby's father

♡ Jess Mariano x reader

request ✓

The bus ride down was long, and it only got worse as 1-year-old Caroline woke up from her nap and decided to let everyone know of the inconvenience. Finally after the long months of working and saving up she had enough to move to Stars Hollow, unlike Jess who had a parent to send them and an uncle to stay with, she saved up and made it happen. She wanted Caroline to be around her father, and she wanted to be close to Jess.

And Y/n’s always loved the idea of a small town, a place where you felt safe, a place she would feel safe raising her child in, a place that wasn’t $2,500 a month for a closet. Here she could give her daughter a lot more, here she would have a support system in Jess and Luke. Unlike what her parents would give her.

By this point in the bus route it was only the mother and daughter and a couple strays, she saw the messy haired boy sitting on a park bench close to the bus stop, of course he had his nose in a book. She started packing up Caroline’s stuff, tucking her blanket and toys in the basket of the stroller.

When she got to the bus doors, Jess quickly made his way to help her lift the stroller down the steps, when the stroller was once again on the ground Jess squats down getting face to face with his little girl, “Hey, Care!” “Daddy!” He lifted her up by her armpits. When the little girl was out of her seat and in her dad’s arms, her mom stacked their bags on the seat.

“Hi! You’re so big! Really she is. She’s growing up so fast.” “Well she can walk way more stable now. No more scaring, mommy that you’ll fall if I look away for a second.” She says the last sentence in baby voice while she tickles the girl’s belly to make her giggle and their foreheads to rest on each other’s.  

“So you gonna show us around?!” “‘Around’?” They continued their walk around the gazebo area, walking towards Luke’s. 

“This is it, that's the record shop, that’s the bookstore, that's Luke’s, and that’s all you need to know.” “Well where’s the bank, I might need to rob it later.” “You’ll find a job. And if you don’t then work at Luke’s, he could do with the time off then maybe he’d get off everyone’s backs.” “He’s probably stressed with you always causing trouble.” “Me? Trouble? Nooo, I’m a peach.”

-

Jess had the baby today since Y/n was off to find a job, her first stop was the most promising. Luke let her know that a friend of his needed extra staff at their Inn for an event that was coming up, someone who could be an assistant of sorts. So after wearing her most capable looking top, and best fitting jeans. She kissed Caroline’s check and yelled goodbye to Luke and Jess as she began her walk.

When she walked inside she saw a man at the front desk on the phone. Waiting to ask for directions, she hung around the man’s desk, busying herself with some pamphlet. She couldn't help but listen to the man’s angry English in his french accent.

Suddenly he hung up the phone and got back to writing whatever he was writing, without looking up and with an annoyed tone said, “Yes?” “I was looking for Lorelei, I’m here for-” “The assistant job, yes.. Follow me.” He walked quickly to wherever it was they were going, mumbling along the way, “Of course, an assistant. Just what we need around here. Not like I don’t already do most of the work around here.”

He opened the door for them, it ended up being the kitchen they were now in. A tall woman holding a to-go coffee cup that said ‘Luke’s’ on it and a shorter woman in an apron fighting with a scruffy man about vegetables, which look to be parsnips. 

“The mini-you is here.” “One little comment, Micheal. I’m not saying you’re incapable. I just want more help with organising events so I focus on planning!” “Whatever.” Turning on his heels, Micheal walked out the doors making his way back to his desk. 

“So you’ve met Micheal! Sorry, we usually don’t let him around the new people but we're a little short-staffed. Let’s head to the dining room.”

They sat down at a table in the dining room, Lorelei asked all the important questions, and Y/n was perfect, now she was just asking the things she’ll tell Sookie later when the woman asks about the new hire.

Taking a sip of her sixth coffee this morning Lorelei asked, “So, are you new to town? I haven’t seen you around before.” The girl was stirring milk into her second coffee as she responded, “Yeah, I am. I just moved here with my um- my daughter, closer to her dad so…” 

Since it was of course the time most adults got horrified, thought she was a bad kid, and though she didn’t get that vibe from Lorelei, it was at least bound to shock her. “You’re daughter? How old are you? Wait- I know, it’s on your resume. I mean- I’m, deja vu y’know? Abba did say ‘the history books on the shelf are always repeating themselves’.” 

She must have seen the confused look on the young girl and explained, “I had my daughter when I was sixteen.. And came here to get a job, so just getting major deja vu. Well then, since I know what you’re going through, I won’t put you through the short mental torture of waiting for a call I was gonna do and just tell you you got the job.” “Oh, thank you! I really need this, I can’t thank you enough.” “Just change her name to Lorelei and we’ll call it even.” “deal.” Those two would get along great, much to Luke’s misfortune.

-

Y/n sat at the counter with Caroline in front of her sitting on the counter while she played with her mother’s hair. Jess was filling up cups of coffee and serving customers while he listened to Y/n’s words.

“So until you go back to school, you’ll have Caroline during the day here and when I’m done work I’ll take her.” “No, you’ll never have a break. After work you go to your house, relax then grab her after dinner.” 

Jess may have this ‘I only care about myself’ attitude but that never included Caroline and Y/n, he’d kill for either of them at any given moment. He always put them first. If thought Y/n needed a break, she was getting a break whether she wanted it or not. 

Just as the girl was going to thank him she was interrupted by another girl around their age coming to sit down at the counter, two over from her. 

“I have the book you lent me.” She said, unknowingly interrupting the conversation since Jess was facing the coffee machine to make a new batch when she sat down. “Oh, thanks.” He muttered, notably not turning to face her.

On the inside Jess felt guilty. Why did he feel guilty? He didn’t do anything, he and Y/n weren’t together, nevermind the fact that all he did was lend Rory a book. As friends. Because they’re friends. But nonetheless it almost felt like cheating. Jess and Y/n may not be together officially but that didn’t mean that they both didn’t love each other. And not just because they were the parents to a beautiful little girl. Jess had always wanted more, he’d let the girl know that more than a handful of times, and she let him know it wasn’t unrequited, yet something always came between them.

You’d think having a baby together would bring them closer, and in some ways it did; they trusted each other more. But they also fought more and being the dumb teenagers they were, they didn’t have the emotional ability to move past that and build the relationship they both wanted. And then when they felt they were ready to, Jess was sent to live with his uncle. Just another fork in the road. But now they were living in the same town and had a good system, and people to support them. It was the perfect time, everything was going right, they could feel all the feelings that never really left resurfacing.

“Okay, I have to get to work. You’ve got her?” “Yeah.” “Bye, baby, I love you. I’ll see you in a little bit, but you get to spend all day with daddy.” “Bye-bye, mommy!” 

She said bye to Jess after she walked around the counter and handed him Caroline, muttering a small ‘go see, daddy��� that Rory most definitely heard.

When the door finally chimed shut Rory shot up to follow Jess to the table he was now setting Caroline up at. She watched his gentle movements as he readjusts her shirt and places crayons and paper in front of her, which she got right into scriballing away. 

“She’s yours?” “Yeah.” “.. So that girl is your girlfri-" "I’ve got work to do.” 

-

The warm atmosphere of the dinner is a stark contrast to the cold winter air. Noticing Jess and Caroline are nowhere to be seen she assumes they were upstairs and makes her way up the stairs. Half-way up the flight of stairs she could hear her little girl’s loud giggles. She quietly opens the door to see Jess holding Caroline above his head, as if she was flying.

When she first got pregnant everyone told her Jess wouldn’t be a good dad, that she can’t rely on him for anything. God were they wrong. She doesn’t think it’s possible for her baby to have a better person as a dad. She sadly doesn’t get to watch the scene for much longer as she’s spotted by little Caroline.

“Mommy! I see daddy ‘morrow?” “Yes, you get to be with daddy all day tomorrow too.” “Yay!”

As the conversation between them goes on, Jess lets his little girl plant her feet back on the ground and starts collecting some things she’ll need during the night before she comes back here tomorrow, he then starts getting Caroline’s shoes on her feet. While Y/n sits on the couch next to their little girl.

“So who was that girl this morning?” “Who?” 

Jess always did this, it was a tell tale sign that he didn’t want to talk about it, but that’s never stopped Y/n before. “You know who.” Of course having to be difficult, Jess gives her a fake confused look, as if he’s never met another girl in his life. 

“The one returning your book.” “Oh, that girl.” “Yeah, that girl.” “She’s nobody.” “So you just lend books to ‘nobody’s now?” “Care, where’s Mr.Wiggle?” The girl lets out a gasp and reaches out for Jess to help her off the couch, when he does she runs into the closet where she previously hid while playing hide and seek a couple hours earlier. 

“What? Don’t want Care to hear about her new step-mom?” “Don’t call her that.” “What? Care? Only you can call her that?” “No, don’t call Rory Care’s ‘step-mom’.” “Rory! I get her name!” 

Jess was a quiet guy, but not this quiet, especially not with Y/n. He didn’t want to talk about Rory, maybe because it was weird talking about another girl with your baby momma. And yes it was weird for Y/n too, but for a completely different reason, she assumes. She liked Jess, and has since before she even knew about Caroline.

“C’mon, Jess, it’s me. I want you to be happy.” Sure Rory made him happy, but only because she was the only friend he had here, it wasn’t the way Y/n made him happy. Before he could deny for words again Caroline came back running into the room with her stuffie in her hands. Having already said her goodbyes, she opened the door and walked out.

“Caroline, wait hun! I think you should go for it Jess.”

She walked out the door, closing it behind her, leaving Jess to stare at where she disappeared. He decided to take her advice, just maybe not the way she meant it

-

Y/n helped Caroline pack more snow onto their snowman. Caroline wanted to do it after she heard Luke complaining about town events again, he stopped complaining when he saw how excited the girl was. They had Mr.Wiggles off the side learning against the tree, using him as a reference. 

“Mommy, no. Mr.Wiggles has more hair.” 

Caroline was getting very comfortable ordering her mother around, but in this instance Y/n let it slide, poking more sticks on the top of the snowman’s head to mimic Mr.Wiggle’s spiky hair. 

“That’s good!”

Lorelei and Rory were just one snowman down, both told Caroline they thought she would win and encouraged her before she even started. Since they were so close, they could hear the scene that had just played out. 

“Tough age, wait till you get to the terrible twos. ‘No’ is all you’ll hear.” Lorelei said, kindly as her and her own daughter walked past them. Y/n let out a laugh at the comment before she asks, “You guys done already?” “No, but after Michelangelo over there busted out the power buffer, and when Caroline busts out her cuteness, what chance do we have?” “I see your point.” “So off to Luke’s we go.” “We’ll see you there in a bit.”

-

Y/n was standing talking to one of the decorators when she saw Lorelei and Sookie step out of the kitchen, quickly finishing her directions she wrote down a note on her clipboard then made her way to meet them at the entrance of the dining room.

When Sookie sees her, she asks, “What’re we looking at today?” Sookie was really fun to work with, like Lorelei she was very chill as a boss, but Sookie was also so kind and always took it upon herself to make sure Y/n has eaten and that her and Caroline are taken care of. She could tell the woman was going to make an amazing mother.

“This is last on the list.” She replied, after she took a quick glance at her clipboard, then continued, “We’ve got trumpets, the madrigal singers-” “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m not playing squire of Bracebridge.” 

Sookie and Lorelei must have finally told Jackson to play the squire, they told her earlier in the week that they were playing to ask at the last moments so he had to. It was a flawless plan, especially when Jackson can’t say no to Sookie.

She saw that Lorelei and Sookie were just ignoring him, so she played along and continued down her list, “All the servers are lined up. This is just for the recorder players and harpists.” She stopped at the recorder players and let Lorelei talk to them, “Hi. Lay some on us, guys.” 

The two recorder players played the soft tube they were going to come accustomed to in the next few days. The three of them shared positive looks and when their playing came to an end, Sookie said, “Hey, you cats really know how to blow those things.” Lorelei continued Sookie’s comment by saying, “You’ve got the gig. Y/n here will call you later with the details. Thanks.” 

Recorder players started packing their things, Jackson started again on the fact that he wouldn’t play the squire, and the three women continued to ignore him.

“When do the quests arrive?” “Thursday at four on their own jet.” “After buying out the whole inn.”

“Must be nice to have money.” Y/n added, checking off and writing down more notes on her clipboard.

“You know what struck me today?” “-Was it the fact that I am not the squire?-""We’re crazy for doing this.” “We’re beyond crazy.” It did feel crazy, Lorelei told her they’d never done a function this big before and that’s the reason they hired more help. Like her, but also that they were planning to do a lot more big things like this, more weddings, and such. 

“We’re ‘Anne Heche speaking her secret language to god and looking for the spaceship in Fresno’ kinda crazy.” “Oquinis no-goodo noto.” Sookie said, causing Y/n add, “Il ecnatra dos guidan.”

Their nonsense was once again interrupted by Jackson, “And spring this on me at the last minute too. I mean, that’s just manipulative.” Suddenly a cook pops his head out of the kitchen, saying calmly, “Sookie- fire!”

Sookie rolled her eyes softly, this happened far too often, before saying, “I gotta get back in the kitchen. You guys handle the harps?” Both women nodded and replied in unison, “You got it.” 

“Alright. I’ll do it. I’ll play squire Bracebridge if that’s what you want.” Everyone knew he would cave eventually. Sookie patted his arm and said a quick, “Thanks, sweetie.” before walking back into the kitchen to hopefully deal with the fire. “As long as it’s not just because I fit the costume.” Jackson looked back at Lorelei and Y/n, Lorelei had a grin on her face while Y/n wore a tight-lipped smile. “It’s because I fit the costume, isn’t it?” He followed after Sookie.

Lorelei put her arm around Y/n and led them to the harpist, “Go ahead.” The harpist played the same tune as the two recorder players. But just as the woman started, Lorelei got a call. She patted Y/n’s arm, “I have to take this, you handle the harpist.”

The girl tried to stay calm, nodding her head and going back to listening to the music. Lorelei trusted her, yes it wasn’t a big job by any means, but still it was a step into a bigger role down the line.

-

The next day, Sookie and Y/n had all the waiters/performers in the dining room going over what their job was. And teaching them the old English words to use for things.

Sookie was just telling Rune that he couldn’t just talk like an old man whe Lorelei came in with a disappointed look on her face, and let them know the dinner was off.

The three women, as well as Rory and Caroline were now sitting at a table at Luke’s, Caroline was happily eating her pancakes, plain just as she liked and completely unaware of the collective disappointment of the group.

Lorelei has really welcomed Y/n into her life. She may not be Jess’s biggest fan, but she would always help another teen mom out. Especially since she sees so much of herself in Y/n. She’s grown to really love the girl in the short time they’ve known each other. And aftering hearing Y/n didn’t have her family in her life she was more than happy to help and maybe become that family for her one day. Just like Mia did for her.

“I’ve got 30 pounds of aged beef, trays and trays of trout, mountains of prune tarts. I diced pumpkins until my hands turned orange. I’ve got pumpkin hands!” Sookie showed the table her hands, it apparently caught Caroline’s attention since she grabbed Sookie’s right hand and held it in her left while she continued eating. Sookie lets her hand rest in the little girl’s while she freaks out more and asks Lorelei, “How can you stay so calm?” “There’s nothing we can do about it.” 

Rory was just as upset, mostly because she knew how hard her mother worked on the planning, “I can’t believe they got snowed in.” Y/n hasn’t told Jess, but she’s become pretty close to Rory, the girl sometimes comes to the Inn and helps around and Rory’s become kinda her only friend, that was until Rory invited her to the record store with Lane. After that day she had two friends. 

After knowing Rory more, she realised how much she and Jess have in common, and even though Rory has a boyfriend she can tell there’s an attraction to Jess she’s trying so hard to hide. 

Y/n zoned out for a moment, looking outside, she was upset that the first event she helped organise wouldn’t even happen. She was broken from her stare out the window from Caroline jumping in place while sitting on her mom’s lap, the cause of which was Luke coming to the table. 

“You girls want anything besides coffee?” He asked, adding on with a pat on the girl’s head, “Or pancakes?” “Hey, what about Luke?” “What about him?” “He eats, and Jess eats. Doesn’t Jess eat?” Sookie directs the question at Y/n, before the girl could say anything Luke cuts her off, “What’s she doing?” “I think she’s inviting you for dinner.”

Getting distracted while trying to convince Luke to come to dinner, the four decide to still put on the dinner for the town. Like an out of control slumber-party.

-

The dinner was going great, the secret amazing part of inviting the town was that Y/n and Caroline could actually meet everyone. Miss. Patty and Babette loved Y/n and Caroline (mostly Caroline), Caroline loved Kirk, and everyone loved that Caroline could do whatever she wanted and Talor wouldn’t say anything. And Y/n got to meet Paris after all the stories she’s heard.

Caroline and Y/n were in line for the horse drawn carriage rides, when Caroline saw her favourite person, Lane. “Laney! I ride with you!” Lane, before agreeing, made eye contact with Y/n to make sure it was okay. Y/n gave them the go ahead and helped Caroline get settled. After their carriage left she made her way to the next one. Telling the driver it’s just her.

It was nice to get a break from everything. It was quiet and peaceful. Well that was until Jess ran up and hopped on the carriage next to her. Without a word he put the blanket that was over the girl’s legs on his too. 

“I thought you and Care were going together.” “She’s one ahead, with Lane.” “Ahhh. Well it’s two to a sleigh no more, no less. So you were breaking the rules, you're welcome for saving you.” “You could have hurt yourself.” “Aw, you care about me.” “You are my baby's father.” 

She wished she just agreed with him. She didn’t just care for him because he was Caroline’s dad, and she doesn’t think she says it enough. But then again, maybe it would mess things up if she admitted that. But that decision was made for her.

“I’m touched.” “Jess. I don’t mean it like that. I care about you, Caroline or not.” 

Trying to change the topic to something she thought was more lighthearted, she says, “So, how are things with Rory?” “There are no things with Rory.” “C’mon, Jess, we can talk about this stuff-” “Why are you so insistent that I date Rory?” 

She wasn’t expecting that outburst. Not from Jess. He rarely ever yelled at her, and when he did it was always misplaced anger, never actually angry at her. This time it was her, it was what she said.

“I just want you to be happy-” “C’mon, Y/n. Be serious.” “I am. I want-” “If you want me to be happy so bad, why won’t you give me a chance?!” 

He turned his face to her, looking right into her eyes, she could see the hurt in his. Did she put it there?

“What’re you-” “Since we found out about Caroline, I’ve tried and tried to help you realise that I love you. And not how you mean ‘I love you’. I don’t love and care for you because we have a family and I have to. I love you, because I want to. I want to be with you. And I know it will be hard, but I’ll do the work.” 

If she had more social awareness at the pent she would have hated that the coachman heard all of that. But after what Jess said, the look in his eyes; that was so full of love. She felt like it was just them two in the world. No, that it was just their little family in the whole world. He and Caroline were all she would ever need.

“I love you too, Jess. I have for so long, long before Caroline, but I thought you wouldn’t want to be tied down to me, especially after I had Caroline, that any sign I thought you gave me was all in my head.” “It’s not.” 

He brought her in closer to him, an arm around her shoulders and when her arms wrapped around his waist he left a kiss on the crown of her head. The small kiss brought her eyes up to him, which led to their first real kiss in one year and nine months. 

His lips were softer than she remembered, but they still fit into hers as if they never left.

She broke away from their reuniting kiss to place her head in the crook of his neck, wanting nothing more than to be close to him.

“My mom didn’t want me to come home.” She took her head out of his neck to look at him fully. They were always that person for each other, the one you can tell your problem to and they knew when to help and when listening was enough. Right now, she knew listening was enough.

“I’m sorry, Jess.” “It’s fine. Just sucks.” “I know. Well, Care and I will always want you to come home.” After her words, he brought her closer than before. She was always just what he needed. 

Wanting to change the subject, Jess nodded his head to the snowman Y/n and Caroline built. “It’s good.” “What?” “Your snowman, well Caroline’s snowman I'm sure she’d want me to say.” “You know which one’s ours?” “Definitely shows her personality… It kinda looks like Mr.Wiggles.” “That’s what we were going for. But everyone thinks the one on the end is going to win.” “Really? It’s so overdone.” “I agree.” “You and Care’s should win.” “Agree again.”

-

The dinner was filled with Jess and Luke confused at what exactly was in the food, Jess and Y/n trying their best to keep Caroline sat which about half an hour in they gave up and just let her walk around the lobby, as well as saying hello and talking to everyone at the table. Having an interesting conversation with Mrs.Kim about grace, ‘helping’ Kirk by sitting on his rolling food cart, and even talking with Paris for a while. 

Overall it was a great night. Even better when Jess, Y/n, and Caroline got to their shared room, putting Caroline asleep together for the first time in a while. And falling to sleep in the same bed together, holding each other, listening to each other’s breaths, as well as Caroline’s. Everything was just how they both always secretly wanted. And now get to have openly and freely. 

- 

In the morning Y/n got up early since she was technically working, and she still was when Luke, Jess, and Caroline left to open the diner for the day. It was around noon when Y/n finally left, walking to Luke’s to spend the day with her two favourite people. Which was when she saw Michelangelo’s snowman fallen to a large pile of snow on the ground.

She didn’t even have to think for a second to know that Jess did it. Sometimes he did the weirdest things to show his love.

The bell rang as she pushed open the door, she sat down next to Caroline, saying ‘good morning’ and getting one back before she made her way to the counter.

“I saw what you did.” “What’d I do?” “Caroline will be happy she won.” “Anything if my girl’s win.”

#jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x fem!reader #jess mariano x female reader #jess mariano x y/n #gilmore girls #gilmore girls fic #milo ventimiglia #rory gilmore #lorelai gilmore #emily gilmore #teen mom!reader #teen mom

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Seven: Thursday

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Moon Boys x F!Reader

Summary: You’re a workaholic, but now that you’re on a week’s vacation, your lives are going to take FULL advantage of your presence aka the Moon Boys keep you in bed for a whole week.

Warning: smut - semi-public, teasing (reader's a little bratty in this one), a little bit of dom/sub tones, grinding, p in v

Series Masterlist

You've finally allowed your loves to take you outside of your shared apartment.

"Just a few hours outside, honey. Get some vitamin D."

You smirked at Marc as he led you outside, "Oh, I think I've been getting more than enough D, Marc."

He playfully rolled his eyes at you as he wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your temple, murmuring, "Behave."

"Or what? I'll get a spanking? Don't threaten me with a good time, Spector."

Marc groaned, "You're going to be insufferable, aren't you?"

You shrugged, "This is what happens when you make me go outside instead, we could be inside going at it like rabbits. But whatever."

______________

Marc brought you to a new cafe that opened up a few blocks from the apartment. You'd seen it passing by at one point, but never had the time to check it out. Since you're not working for the week, this was the perfect opportunity.

He ordered himself a sandwich and you a panini and a strawberry cake. Your usual drink of choice, but with a flavored syrup that they had available.

You and Marc now sit in the back corner, away from the rest of the cafe patrons.

Marc watches as you sip your drinking, testing the flavors. You nod, approving of its taste, "I like it!" you slide your drink across to Marc and he takes a sip. He nods like you and murmurs, "Good."

You then take a bite out of your panini, giving the most sinful moan. Marc, sipping from his own drink, starts to loudly cough to cover your sounds.

Oh, she's going to be trouble today, it seems, Steven says to Marc.

You smirk at him while you chew your food and he frowns at you, "Baby?"

"Hm?"

"What're you doing?"

"Eating. This is a really good panini, hon. Try it," you hold it out to him and he shake his head, "I'm good."

With eyes like a hawk, Marc watches as you continue to eat your food. When you go to drink your beverage, you "accidentally" spill some on you. The liquid falling down your cleavage.

"Whoops!" You pull down your shirt a little more to show more of your breasts to Marc, "Silly me," you say as you wipe yourself down.

Marc sighs and runs a hand down his face, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching you, "Really? We're going to do this?"

I think you are, Marc, Steven snickers.

You 'innocently' bat your eyes at your love, "Doing what, hon? I'm just eating. Can't help it if I'm a bit clumsy."

"You're being a brat," he states.

You smirk at him, propping your arm on the table and resting your cheek against his hand, "What're you gonna do about it?"

If that's how you're gonna play, then two can play at that game. He smirks back and shrugs, "Nothin'." He goes to eat his sandwich and you pout a little, hoping to get a rise out of him.

Aw, she's so cute when she pouts!

Stop it, Steven. We're not falling for it! Marc mentally scolds his alter.

_______________

After brunch, you and Marc stepped onto the bus to take you further into the city where you two would walk around and maybe head into some shops.

The bus was surprisingly crowded for a weekday, so you and Marc were huddled into a corner. Marc's back to the wall of the bus, you standing in front of him. An idea popped into your head and you 'stumble' back against Marc. His hands go to your waist and he murmurs, "You okay?"

You smile over your shoulder, "Perfect." You don't step forward, rather you press yourself up more against Marc and start grinding on him a bit. You didn't want to make it obvious to the other passengers though.

Marc knew what you were doing. His nails digging into your waist and he leans forward, lips against your ear, "Princess, you better behave. I mean it, or you won't get anything at all today."

Maybe we can-

No, Steven.

You sigh in defeat and step forward to create some distance, but you're pulled back by Marc. He murmurs to you, "Oh no. You stay here, don't need everyone to see my hard on that you caused."

You giggle, but then gasp when Marc pinches your side.

_______________

Marc's arm is around your shoulders as you both walk down the streets of London. Tourists and locals alike pass you, minding their business or taking in the sights and sounds.

You then spot a boutique and you're pulling Marc inside before he can do anything.

"Wha-hm."

You smile at him, "I just want to look around," you say as you run your fingers along a scantily mannequin, red lace covering very little of it.

Marc clenches his jaw, "Sure you are."

He follows you around, not making any indication if he sees something he'd very much like to rip off you.

You rush over, picking up a black barely-there open cup crotchless teddy, "Do you think Steven would like this?"

Bloody hell. That's practically nothing. Steven says in Marc's head.

You grab another, a very strappy, open cup and crotchless teddy, "Can you see what he thinks of this one?"

Marc stares at you intently, eyes not blinking until suddenly he shakes his head and looks around, "Wha-oh."

You smile gleefully at Steven, "Hi, lovey." You place the sets onto a rack and wrap your arms around him, pressing your lips to his.

Steven pulls away and gives you a stern look, "Now, lovey, I know what you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything, Steven," you say nonchalantly, going back to the pieces you pulled, "I wasn't serious about this pieces, by the way. Maybe we can find something you do like."

Steven gulps and nods, "Y-Yeah, Sure, love."

He follows you around, either giving you a yes or a no on different items that catch your eye. You end up with a good amount, bringing them and Steven with you to the dressing room. He sits on the bench while you try each of them on.

You try on the most modest of the bunch, moving towards the more revealing ones. You did this on purpose, of course, hoping that, with each one, you'd rile Steven up more and more.

You knew you were successful too from the way that Steven's hands were covering his crotch. He was fidgeting in his seat.

"I think this one is it," you say, modeling the white floral teddy. It oozed a sense of innocence and sensuality.

"Bloody hell," Steven groans, wiping his now damp forehead.

You dressed back into your clothes, but before stepping out, you fall to your knees in front of Steven, hands running up his thighs, "Do you need help with that, Steven?" you nod to his crotch.

"We shouldn't, especially since Marc-"

"Marc's not in control right now. You are," your hands inch up towards the tent in Steven's pants, "So, I ask again, do you need help with that?"

Steven mindlessly nods and you immediately work on undoing his jeans, bringing him out of his boxers and pumping his length up and down.

"Fu-" you slap your hand over his mouth.

"Don't want to get caught, do we?" he shakes his head, "Good."

You continue to jerk him off and his chest heaves with every breath. You take off your own pants and underwear, straddling his lap. His eyes widen and you immediately say, "I think this will both help us, don't you think?"

You grind yourself down onto his length and Steven's head fall back, bumping against the wall of the fitting room. He immediately sits up and you bury your face in his neck, giggling, "Careful, lovey."

You move your hips, running your slit along Steven's length. Steven's biting his lip hard, keeping himself from moaning. He pulls you closer to him, mouth going to your shoulder so he can bite down.

You hiss at the pain, but you also find it pleasurable. You continue to move, teasing yourself and Steven as you start to have his cock nudge your entrance.

"Fuck me, Steven. Please? I need you so bad?" you whimper in his ear.

Steven looks to the mirror and see Marc shaking his head, disappointed in his alter's weak resolve.

Don't.

Steven immediately ignores Marc, taking himself in his hand and lowers you onto him.

You moan into his shirt, hoping the music playing within the store is loud enough to hide your sounds of pleasure.

You move slow against Steven, not wanting to make the room shake or creak to reveal what you two are doing.

"So beautiful, lovey. So sweet for thinking of me. Looked so gorgeous."

"Steven," you quietly whine his name.

"Marc's so upset with us," he says with a chuckle, "We're definitely in for it."

"Don't care. He was being mean," you say in pants, still riding Steven in a slow pace.

"If I recall, you were also being a cheeky thing, weren't you?"

You giggle, "Maybe."

"Shit, right there," Steven gasps, "Please tell me you're close?"

You nod, desperate for finally having some release since Marc had denied you earlier. You reach down, rubbing at your clit for more pleasure, "Fuck, yes. So close."

"That's it, lovey. Good girl. Give it to me," Steven begs, his hands gripping you like his life depended on it.

"Shit," you gasp, cumming as you continue to ride Steven.

"Right there, right there. Oh fuck, Y/N," Steven groans, cumming with you. You continue to move, helping you both through your orgasm.

Your movements still, leaving you and Steven breathing hard. You lean back to get a look at his face. It's damp and slightly red. Your chuckle and peck his lips.

You slowly climb off him, grabbing your pants and underwear, sliding them on.

You grab the last set you tried on and watch with a grin as Steven stands, tucking himself back in, and zipping up his pants.

He approaches you, hands grabbing your face and pressing a kiss to your lips with more love and less lust.

Against your lips, he murmurs, "Marc says you're in trouble."

You snicker, "Trouble is my middle name," you reply with a wink and step out of the fitting room to purchase your new set.

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon boys x reader #moon knight x reader #fem!reader #f!reader #smut

[aotprncss]

SAY AAH - TOJI FUSHIGURO

A/N: Is it bad that I LIVE for asshole Toji? I like his attitude like ughhhohmmygod

CONTENT WARNING! swearing, degradation. yns a little dumb, small bit of manipulation, cheating, small mention of alcohol/drugs

641 pm Long Beach CA -

''I'm tired of your shit, I'm fucking done Im leaving." you muffled, wiping the tears falling your face onto your shirt showing your smudged brown foundation. a pink duffle bag was held tight in your arms, and you were just throwing anything into it. handfuls of panties, socks, and whatever clothes you saw folded or hanging in front of you. you two just got back from toji taking you shopping, per usual. while you two are out you ran into one of his 'past' hoes.

532 pm Towne Center Ca - "Is that my baby daddy?" the strange blonde woman cackled, walking over to your man for a hug. "Fushiiii I miss you" she slurs, clearly of some kind of drug or alcohol. "It's been 2 weeks since you were inside me" the trick smiled, leaning up to whisper in his ear. but you could hear her loud and clear. "okay!" you dropped your shopping bags and stormed out of the mall. the amount of people there you chose to not draw any attention to yourself.

fushiguro looked at you and laughed. "and you're going where? With what car?" he wasn't wrong, but why would you want to admit that? The year you started college you lost shit loads of money before meeting toji. he kept a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and money in your pocket, what're you supposed to do without him? "uber! or the bus, or I can ask one of my girls to take me I don't know ... I just need to get the fuck away from you." you grabbed your phone, pushing your soon-to-be ex's shoulder before slamming the door on your way out. 819 pm Long Beach CA - here you were, at a 4-star hotel alone. the floor was piled up with clothes and tissues. you huffed, scrolling through your for you page. the videos toyed with your emotions, each one relating to the situation you're going through. your head jolted up, hearing a slight knock at the door. It was probably DoorDash with the food you previously ordered since hotel food was not within your budget. "coming" you wiped your face from the dried-up tears and kicked over the day clothes you wore. "are you fucking stupid yn?" you looked up swallowing your spit. your stomach started turning inside out at the sight of him. his dark green eyes, his thick black hair, his full lips; why does he have to be such an asshole?

he pushed the door open, moving you out of the way. you looked at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "how did you know I was here?" the tall man turned his back to you, eyeing the nightstand and opening the drawer out of curiosity. "tracked you" he answered nonchalantly. "what? toji who do you think you are? you have zero fucking right to stalk me-" you were cut off by the tall man laughing in your face, "zero right?" he teased "I'm the one paying for that phone you have. I can do whatever the fuck I want yn, you're the one who depends on me." he huffed before sitting on the edge of the bed, manspreading as he toyed with the drawstring of his dark sweatpants.

"matter a fact, cmere. since you wanna tell me what I can and can't do" he grabbed a hold of your arm, pulling you close to him. the eye contact was strong, at least his was. he placed down on the floor gesturing you to get on your knees. you followed, of course you did. why are you doing this to yourself? maybe you were overreacting, maybe he was going through something. toji can be a good man, well when he wants to be. "you not gon talk much when you got dick in your mouth" toji laid back, putting the weight on the palms of his hands resting on the bed. you could see the bulge in his pants, making you gasp. you always forgot how big … thick … long he was. you placed your hands at the hem of his pants, pulling his fully erected dick out. the precum coating his tip and part of his shaft, you bit your lip at the sight. "yawnn, hurry up" fushiguro rolled his head back in annoyance. his hands gripped the back of your neck, forcing your full lips onto his lap. big, it was so big, too big even. your tongue danced around his tip, as your lips coated his shaft. hands, your hands are what you need. but he hated that. toji enjoyed seeing you struggle to take his dick. how helpless you look fitting something far too big into your mouth. "that's right, get it wet. you wanna make me nut on that pretty face, don't you?" tojis' hand grazed the back of your head, curls running through his fingertips. he groaned at the view in front of him, bucking his up forcing his dick farther into your mouth. "yeaaa … tell me what to do again" he laughed.

your eyes rolled back as your freshly done nails dug themselves into his thighs. his tip hit the back of your throat, profusely with force. you shut your eyes tight, a tear rolling down your face as you can feel your mouth being stretched. at this point, you were soaked. he was always rough with you, but never to a point like this. you felt your clit beating, the wetness spreading to make a mess between your thighs. "f … fuck yn, I'm gon nut. Is that okay with you, since you wanna be in charge of me n … shit" he groaned, slowing down the pace of your head. before you could moan a response, you felt his warm liquid release into your mouth. "shittt" toji bit his bottom lip, pulling out. he smiled, eyeing the string of cum and spit mixture from his tip to your glossened, puffy lips. "lemme see you swallow it" he cooed, grabbing your chin between his index and thumb fingers. you separated your lips, showing your empty wet mouth. "you so fuckin nasty girl, fuck" his thumb grazed your bottom lip as you tilted your head up, his dark eyes meeting yours. "turn around, I want you to keep talking shit with this dick in your stomach."

#toji smut #x black reader #fem reader #x black fem reader #black fanfic writer #black reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x you #fushiguro toji #toji zenin #jjk x reader #jjk smut

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

A BREATH OF FIRE × Min Yoongi

[Hybrid gods AU]

INTRO

Run little girl

Warnings: mentions of blood, death, killing.

Keep breathing. Don't slow down. Run. Run. Run.

I hear their disgusting laughs behind me as i take a turn to the forest. How stupid of me thinking this was the best decision. But how could i know? I've been careful all my life, never going to parties, never staying up late after work and always making sure i wasn't alone at night. But today, it felt uncanny from the beginning of the day. I can't find the words to describe how it felt like some thing was going to happen, from the moment i woke up to me walking to my silly job at a coffee shop and then to my coworker asking me to work her late night shift, i thought why not? Nothing ever happen, why would it now? Right.

Wrong.

One moment i was waiting at the bus stop to go home, the second moment a car pulls up and two men are now following me non stop.

Why?

Why did i agreed to do a late shift tonight?

Why?

More then anything I was angry with myself for thinking i would be safe at night.

My chest was hurting at this point but i couldn't stop. I just kept running. Even when the trees would cut through my skin as i blinded made my way deeper and deeper inside the darkness of this endless forest. I would fall on my knees and go back to my feet, even if i was bleeding the fear and adrenaline keeping the pain away and i knew that if i survived this tonight tomorrow it'd probably hurt even more.

I can't keep going like this.

Defeated and tired, for a moment i stoped and looked around me, checking my surroundings i couldn't hear a thing. No bird. No wind. Nothing.

Everything was dark and the fear of what might happen to me now was suffocating.

I refuse to become a victim like this. I refused to die by the hands of those pigs.

Turning to my left i stared running again. Their laughs and disgusting comments were getting closer.

I had to do something but nothing came to my mind. Running was all i could do now.

My breathing was so loud i almost didn't hear it. But then the sound of water falling went through my ears and i decided to fallow it instinctively. From where I was i could already see a bit of the moon light ahead of me, lucky for me it was a full moon tonight and it's light was shining bright.

So i let it guide me.

Until I fell right in front of a lake.

A low groan came from my lips as i used my hands to stand up, the pain from the fall pushing me back down but i held on, my hands now even more bruise then before. An angry puff of air came out of my lips as i saw blood on them, how fucking lucky. As i slowly averted my eyes up to look at my surroundings the two men were standing behind me i saw their reflections on the lake.

They both stood stood there looking as if i was a fool, a victim, the prey they've been waiting for.

I was sick to my stomach at the sight of their disgusting smiles.

- well well... - one of them said.

- aren't you a runner huh?! - the other laugh, he was holding a baseball bat. They were old and looked like pigs - too bad is over now.

Quickly i made sure to stand up and grabbed whatever stone i could that felt sharp enough to cut while doing so. I would fight to the end of this.

- it was fun... - one of them said approaching slowly - but the hunt is over. Now is time for the real fun...

- you can do this the easy way and... start stripping, or you can do it the hard way - the other one took a knife out of his pocket and pointed at me, a wicked smile on his face - And let us do it.

Anger was building inside me as i watched them looking at each other as if they won, as if I was a mare piece of meat.

I knew my chances were low, for that i had only one choice to make. They were two and stronger then me, there is no way i can win. But at least one i can take it down.

- i would rather die... - i said holding the stone against my neck.

Even if it meant me.

They only laughed.

- come on princess... you don't have to be like this - the one with the knife started to approach me making me held the stone tighter against my neck.

- we all just wanna have some fun...

Looking over to the moon and the beautiful night sky, what a sight the moon must have of me.

I... would really...

How many death as have you witnessed in silence dear moon?

Rather die...

His sickening voice was cut out and silence by the sound of a slash.

I felt the wind blow against my face slowly and the smell of blood.

All it took was one breathe.

So fast that I almost didn't saw it happening.

So quietly.

In a flinch of a movement, his head was cut off so easily. Right in front of me. Still my eyes could not believe what i was seeing.

Until the body of the man fell right in front of me.

The moon was shining so bright now i could clearly see every inch of his features, the way his black hair fell over his eyes. They were made of a golden yellow color that just didn't seem real, nothing i have ever seen. And the scar on his right eye. A bloody scar.

He licked the drop of blood on the corner of his mouth, smirking at my direction. A devilish smile, yellow eyes shining even brighter under the moon light. He looked like a God, shining in his fancy clothes and unbiased by the blood on it.

All i could do was watch.

As he moved towards the other men holding his sword towards him, the man didn't move all he did was stare as the creature in front of him killed him in a glance with horror in his eyes. The mysterious creature didn't spare him much time as he slashed his sword against the man cutting his head off too.

So much blood. The smell was suffocating.

From the back i saw his ears standing behind his head falling down as he breathed, slowly looking up and smiling.

He was not human. I could clearly tell.

Have I really died already?

The smell of blood was so clear and the wind now blowing against my face, finally I could hear the trees and the birds singing again. As if all nature knew that now it was safe.

Slowly he looked at me not moving, a smirk on his lips. Then he guarded his sword walking in my direction.

- you owe me now human... - he said coming closer, nearly inches away from my face  - how are you gonna repay the fox for saving your life?

His voice was calm and low, almost a whisper. Taking the stone from my hand that i didn't even knew i was still holding hard against my skin, his touch was cold and it woke me up from the dream i thought i was in. This is real.

- breath little human... - he said and softly caressed the strand of lose hair off my face. At his command i finally breathed.

- you are in shock... - he mumbled, almost sounding like a cat purring. His golden eyes looking stray into mine made me feel warm.

Then slowly he lifted one finger and pressed on the center of my forehead, and i felt the heaviness and tiredness took over me in a second.

With one hand he held me by the waist, as i slowly feel into a slumber. The other hand he used to push my hair back so he could whisper the last part before i fall completely asleep.

- now... you owe the fox two wishes.

Next?

Note:

Sorry for any grammatical errors hehe. It's a rough post.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts drabble #bts x you #bts fanfiction #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #hybrid #fantasy #a breath of fire x min yoongi

[thehusbandoden]

Morning Kisses- Husband!Shoto x Wife!Reader

This was supposed to be something else but ykw whatever, I'll just have to write that latter.

Fluff | 315 words | female reader | 2nd person

You awoke to feather like kisses being pressed onto your shoulder. Blinking your eyes open, you smiled as Shoto continued to kiss you softly.

"G'morning baby." You smile, turning in his arms to face him.

"Good morning love.. did I wake you?"

"Mmhm, but that's okay. I love your affection in the morning.

Shoto just smiled as he moved to kiss your nose, proceeding to kiss your face just as softly. After a minute or so of kissing everywhere but your lips, Shoto paused to chuckle at your pout.

"What is it baby? Getting impatient?" Shoto teased, kissing the corner of your lips.

"Todoroki Shoto if you do not kiss me right this instant I'm taking away your cud-"

Before you could even finish your sentence Shoto's lips were on yours, kissing you sweetly. As you pulled away Shoto rested his forehead on yours, nuzzling your nose with his.

"M'sorry darling, please don't take away my cuddles." Shoto pouted, looking down at you with pleading eyes.

"Hmm I don't know.. that was kinda mean."

"Baby please!"

You couldn't help but giggle, scooching closer to his half naked form while moving your hands to his hair. "Darling.. what are we doing right now?"

"Cuddling bu- oh.. you were messing with me again.. weren't you?"

"Yep. And you, my love, fall for it every time." Shoto didn't say anything as he practically purred as you scratched at his scalp, moving his hands up and down your waist like a kneading cat.

"Baby.. aren't you annoyed at my comment?"

"Nope. I got cuddles." Shoto sighed, relaxation evident in his voice.

"You're so silly." You giggle, moving a hand to cradle his face.

"Mhmm..." Your smile widened as Shop drifted off to sleep, pausing his movements and leaving his hands resting on your hips, face only centimeters from your own. Giggling, you kissed your Shoto's nose before falling back asleep.

Shoto's Masterlist | Main masterlist | Requesting Rules

Tips <3

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

#mha #bnha #fluff #mha drabble #fluff drabble #lots of fluff #mha fluff #shoto #mha todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #todoroki shouto #mha shoto todoroki #shoto x y/n #shoto x reader #shoto todorki #shoto fluff #shoto x reader fluff #kisses #shoto x reader kisses #mha kisses #mha x reader #mha x reader fluff

[moth-nana]

Night time talks

Bonten!Sanzu Haruchiyo x gn!reader

Summary: Sanzu seeks shelter at the bookshop where you work from a shooting. You take a liking to him and apparently so does he.

Not proof read!

Words: 2.3k

You had gotten a new job in a bookshop. The bookshop you worked in was cute and nice but it was in an area that was not that safe for women nor anyone really. The unsafe environment was mostly connected to all the bars and clubs that were owned by different gangs around Tokyo.

You had seen your fair share of violence when you were in your teens and successfully removed yourself from all that after highschool ended and you started to study literature and arts. You were happy when you got your new job but the place had raised your concern. Even though the shop was at the outskirts of the street where there were hardly any clubs and people mostly walked past to get to all the clubs and bars. You had had some girls come in before closing to seek shelter from some creepy individuals and you had been nice enough to keep them company and escort them to the nearest bus stop.

Today was different. You had a good amount of customers and when the late evening came along you started to prepare to close after a long day and many customers. Before you knew it someone ran into the shop. He had a pink mullet and formal suit west. He jumped over the register and crouched behind it. Then you heard bullets being fired not far from your workplace.

"Fuck this." You mumbled to yourself. You were too tired to even care to hide with the stranger.

"I advise you to get down." He whispered loudly. You looked at him. Your eyes directly caught his scars on the corners of his mouth. He looked like he could be a character from a book or a tv show that you would enjoy.

"I think I'm good. I have no reason to hide." Your answer was heard but the stranger didn't care. He yanked you down to his level. You landed on your but hitting your tailbone to the floor. You whined from the pain.

"I said I was good." You snapped at him. He gave you a side eye. 

"I normally don't care if someone dies but right now I have no energy to clean up any blood from my clothes." He snapped back. At that moment you glanced at his right wrist and saw a tattoo that you wished to never see, a Bonten tattoo. 

You heard some shots that were not as close anymore. You started to wake up more and realize the situation you were in. Should you get up and run? That would not be a great idea. Staying and waiting seems a more stable way to go from this.

You glanced at the pink haired man who was typing something on his phone. He huffed frustratingly and looked at you.

"The shooting is going to be over soon." He said this time quietly but he didn't necessarily whisper.

"Good, I need to get home." You moved to lean on the wall on the opposite side of the counter. 

"Why?" He asked you. He seemed to be bored. 

"I have a cat who I don't like to leave alone for too long. He tends to destroy my stuff when I leave him home for more than eight hours." You told him and he nodded. 

"Do you have any pets?" You asked to be polite and for some reason you wanted to know more about him. He seemed dangerous and compelling.

"No, I don't really have time for pets nor do I really like those furballs." He replied to my not so creative question. 

“You seem like a guy who keeps a really cool snake but I guess not.” you shrugged your shoulders and he looked at you. His pupils were slightly dilated. Your guess was that he was on drugs.

“How much have you taken?” You asked without actually thinking about it more. You acted stupid with no filter from the lack of sleep that had followed you for weeks now. You were too tired to mostly care much.

“Little enough for me to have a clear head but enough for you to get into hospital.” He stated with a smirk and then added, “You want some?” 

“No thank you, keep whatever you got to yourself.” you waved your hands to show that you were declining his offer that most likely was a joke. You hoped it was a joke.

“Nice, more for me then.” He was taking something from his pocket that looked like a pack of pills but you stopped his hand by grabbing it.

“I would really appreciate it, if you wouldn’t take any substances in my presence.” He gave you a stare and you stared back. 

“Fine.” He snapped and took his hand away from your grip without his precious drugs. You heard another bang and then it was quite like there was nothing outside. No people, no cars, no wind, nothing.

His phone lit up and he read the message he had received. "We are good to go." He informed you and rose to his feet. You followed his lead and rose from the floor. You dusted your jeans and gave him a nod.

“Next time warn me…” 

“Sanzu”

“Sanzu” You gave him a smile. His face had carried almost no emotion other than annoyance or boredom since he had run into the shop but now he looked like he was unsure of something.

He shook his head and started heading out. With a wave of his hand as to say goodbye. 

“Nice tattoo!” You yelled after him just before the door closed behind him. He turned to look at you and narrowed his eyes before walking away.

“He has some beautiful eyes.”

-

Youfelt like you were drowning in your own work. Everyday since the shooting had been exhausting with no help from the owner. It was like they had disappeared after you asked him if he could hire someone else to work with you. 

You had to manage all the new books that came in and every decision that came with it. You liked to have your freedom but having no one to ask what they thought or was something you did a good idea made you feel exhausted.

You were stoking up new manga that came in yesterday afternoon. You heard the door opening and someone walking in. You didn’t turn to look who it was since your hands were full of new volumes of one of the most liked and bought manga. 

“Hi,” a greeting just beside your ear made you jump a little and drop three volumes you had in your hands to the floor. You cringed as you thought how the cover might have gotten damaged.

“Oh fuck,” You whined before greeting Sanzu. You picked the dropped mangas up and checked their quality. They were still in pretty good condition so you put them to their place. 

“It’s rude to ignore your customers.” Sanzu snickered behind you as you loaded the shelves quickly.

“Sorry for doing my job. Anyway, how can I help you?” You turned to look at him. He looked to be in pretty good shape. He looked at you with a subtle smirk on his lips. 

“I wanted to come and ask you to recommend a book for someone like me.”

“Seriously?” You asked him and lifted your right eyebrow up a little.

“no,” he leaned towards you, “I needed a reason to talk to you.”

“Interesting, what do you need?” You leaned your upper body a little closer to his. You could feel the building up tension between you two. 

“Your name and your number would be nice.” His voice sends shivers through your skin. 

“My name is (Name), but you need to put on more effort than that to get my number.” You leaned back to your original position.

“Is that so?” His lips were curved into a big grin. 

“Surely it is, I would like to have you on a date after my shift is over.” You felt daring with him standing before you like that. He scanned your face with his eyes for something. A small laugh left his lips as he straightened his back.

“Then that is what we’ll do.” He gave you a wink. He turned away from you to leave.

“19.15!” you shouted after him while he was walking out again.

“See you soon!” He yelled before stepping out of the store.

You were really waiting for the closing time. Not many customers came after he left and it made your time fly by slower than before or maybe it was because you were excited. You were cleaning up the counter when you saw him. He walked in front of the shop and you greeted him with a smile and held your finger up to tell him without words that it would take a second before you would meet him outside but he came in. 

“Can you wait up a few seconds?” you asked before putting all the counted money where you should before closing. He was waiting without a word next to the door of the shop. He was leaning on the window with his hands in his pockets and a smirk playing on his face. He looked really handsome. 

You finished with your closing and the last thing was to lock the place up and it would be all done. You had shut all the lights and the small shop had become dark. Only light that came in was from the streetlights outside. You walked towards the door and he opened it for you and let you walk out before him. You thanked him and locked the place up.

“Where to?” you asked Sanzu while he started walking towards all the clubs. “I was thinking of taking you to one of our restaurants to eat and then we would go and enjoy a few drinks in a club.” He summarized his plan and your nose crushed up. He seemed to take notice of that and stopped walking and so did you. He seemed amused before asking, “What would you like to change about my plan?” You had to think for a while before answering him. “I would like to do something that doesn’t involve money since I can’t afford anything fancy… Also I would like to do something memorable for both of us.” He seemed taken back by your words. “Then what would you like to do?” He asked and you took his hand. “Follow me.” You started to pull him by his hand to the closest bus stop.

That night you had taken a bus with Sanzu to the closest grocery store and bought ingredients to a dish you liked very much. You had welcomed him into your apartment and let him pet your black cat, Niko, and cooked you two food.

He had enjoyed the food you made and you two had talked about anything you two had thought of.

He didn’t really tell you much about his work, but he told you about stupid shit his coworkers had said and done that had annoyed him. You told him about your studies and your boss who had just left you with the bookshop. He listened well and asked questions. You too listened to him and liked to hear him talk. In the end he left around two in the morning.

You were at awe how he acted more humane than you thought. He didn’t seem so scary after you had pulled him into the bus and partly forced him to go to the grocery shop with you. He seemed so out of place sitting at your dining table keeping you company while you cooked and after that sitting next to you on your couch. 

After that night it became a habit for him to visit at your place at evening at least once a week. He seemed to be more at ease when he got to talk to you while you made food or did some studying.

He had found some paintings in your room once and had begged for you to let him keep one so he could have something to remember you by at his place. 

You had one picture of him. It was a polaroid picture of him sitting on your dining table head leaning on his hand while partly falling asleep with an actual smile. 

Sometimes when he came by he had blood on his hands and a wicked grin on his face. It did scare you a bit at first but after a while of him showing up like that on your doorsteps it also became a part of your reality. It wasn’t all new, you had been a part of a delinquent world before but knowing that the things he did were more than fights in a parking lot that left bruises on both parties made you feel weird. It felt like Sanzu was easing you into his world bit by bit.

“You know that I love you, right?” You asked him as he had come out of your shower with clean clothes he had brought to your place a few weeks prior. 

“Oh, really?” His voice was playful as the look on his face. “Where did this come from?” He tilted his head and you shrugged. “I just wanted you to know.”

“I love you too.”

-

Bonus: Before he was supposed to take you on a date.

“Take them clubbing!” Ran earned a few approving nods.

“No, take them to eat in one of our restaurants or something more expensive.” Koko disagreed with Ran and sat with his hands crossing his chest.

Kakucho was shaking his head. “Ask them. By what you told us before they most likely will not like clubs.” He was ignored by most and Sanzu decided to go with both Koko’s and Ran’s ideas. But Kakucho knew better.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu x reader #bonten sanzu #bonten x reader #tokyo revengers x gn!reader

[hyuuukais]

⋆.˚𖦹°‧✮‧°𖦹˚.⋆ ERROR 404

pairing ~ yang jeongin x fem reader

synopsis ~ y/n starts getting messages from an unknown number after buying a used phone for cheap. as she finds out more about the boy she's talking to, it turns out there's much more to this than a wrong number --- he died, and she's talking to his spirit, yet he has no idea what happened to him. will y/n have what it takes to solve the mystery of his death? or will the boy's spirit remained trapped in his phone?

warnings ~ gen, drinking

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CH 4 ~ ENERGY (wc: 2.7k, 7 screenshots)

Flipping the open sign to 'closed', you wait for Minho behind the counter. There hasn't been much more communication from him since the last time you talked, only a confirmation of when you're meeting. Changbin made sure to leave before he decides to show up, feeling too uncomfortable facing an old friend. Other than the occasional check-in text from Jeongin, you haven't had much ghostly interaction either, which you think is for the best.

Each interaction so far has taken more and more energy, starting with the man on the bus and then the elderly woman. A headache, then nearly passing out? At this point, you'll end up in the hospital. A chill goes down your spine thinking of that; would it be easier for the ghost to get to you unprotected like that, lying in a hospital bed unconscious and exposed?

The sound of the bell alerts you of Minho's arrival. Adjusting yourself to lean against the counter, you watch him close the door and lock it. When he turns around, he catches your eye and gives you a light nod of acknowledgment. Slowly, he makes his way toward the counter, fingers trailing over an arrangement of pink carnations mixed with greenery. Minho stops, letting a petal fall between his fingers and onto the floor. Shaking his head, he closes the distance between himself and the counter with a couple of strides.

"I don't know if I believe you," Minho says, leaning on the counter; his face is too close to yours. "But I'm willing to try and help. I owe Changbin."

"How so?" You ask, unsure if you'll get a reply when he places his bag on the counter and takes out a sleek laptop.

"Why do you need to know? That's between me and him," Minho doesn't even spare you a glance as he opens the device and starts typing. "What's the kid's name again? Any lead suspects yet?"

"Yang Jeongin and no, not really," You answer with a shrug. "I guess the most notable person is his best friend, Hwang Hyunjin."

"Have you looked into him yet?" Minho's eyes dart up between yours, returning to the screen and starting to type. "Could be something there."

"I don't know-" You're interrupted by a buzz and look down to see a text from Jeongin.

Rolling your eyes, you place your phone face down and focus back on Minho's typing. He's not saying anything, but his eyebrows are knit together in concentration as his fingers fly over the keyboard. Other than the sound of the keys, the flower shop is eerily silent, making you slightly uncomfortable. Ever since this has started up, quiet rooms have you on edge, waiting for the next visit from another spirit.

Minho sighs heavily, stepping away from the screen and pacing in front of the counter. You let him take his time, a hand sitting in his hair showing he must be thinking hard. Hopefully. You'll see in a moment.

"Nothing is showing up," Minho stops in front of his laptop, slamming it shut with the hand not holding his head. "Absolutely nothing, just a warning- error, whatever."

"The same thing happened to me!" You stand up straight, fingertips holding the edge of the counter tightly. "When I found this blog that was talking all about his death, it wouldn't let me read the rest of it and said there was an error! It's like something is stopping us from finding out-"

"Invisible forces?" Minho raises an eyebrow.

"Isn't that the whole thing? Normally, people can't see ghosts. Why do you think probably half the world doesn't believe in them?" You say. "So, yeah, invisible forces."

"Alright, sure," Minho slips his laptop bag into his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. "I'll look into Hyunjin. Goodnight."

"Wait-" As he turns to leave, you call out; he looks back at you over his shoulder. "Would you... could you give me a ride? Being alone right now has me kind of freaked out."

"Won't you be alone at home?"

"Yeah, but it's different," You mumble, looking down at your feet. "It still feels safe there."

Minho hums in response and you don't move.

"Aren't you coming?" He asks after a moment, car keys jingling in his hand.

You lift your head and spot him holding the front door open. Grabbing your bag and jacket, you walk out after Minho and follow him to his car parked down the road. He opens the door for you politely and you step in with a small 'thank you', fiddling with your bag strap as he walks to the other side and lets himself in. The ride to your house is silent, save for the occasional direction from the GPS.

Along the way, you spot a few stragglers out on the streets, one catching your eye when you're stopped at a red light. An uncomfortable feeling washes over you as they keep staring and you shiver, breaking the eye contact and focusing on the road in front of you. When the light turns green, you take one last look and jump. They're right outside your window, the imprint of a hand left on the glass as Minho starts driving again. He gives you a weird look that you miss, too busy trying to learn how to breathe again.

Ten minutes later, you're standing outside your door picking up the keys you just dropped from your hands shaking too much. Minho is stationed outside watching you get in safely, your cheeks flushing from embarrassment when you struggle to get your key in the lock. Switching the light on, you can hear the rumble of Minho driving away and take a deep breath. You're home now, nothing can hurt you here.

Entering your bedroom, you flop face first into your plush bedding and stay like that for a moment. You feel a dip at the end of the bed, but it doesn't freak you out. By now you can tell when it's Jeongin; his presence feels familiar. The bed moves slightly as he adjusts and gets comfortable beside you and you turn your head enough to be able to peek up at him. He's staring straight ahead, hands folded in his lap, and you see he's even kicked his shoes off. Shaggy black hair falls into his eyes and he shakes his head enough to clear his sight, his eyes then falling onto yours- you've been caught.

"Like what you see?" He teases, head rolling to his shoulder to face you completely.

"No," You lie with a grin, propping yourself up on your elbow. "Not at all. Personally, I'm not a fan of having dead people in my bed."

Jeongin laughs at that, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. You watch him relax, sliding further down into your pillows with a content expression. As much as you want to join him in seemingly falling asleep, you still need to change and wash up. But-

"I gotta go," You say, rolling off the side of your bed.

"What?" Jeongin sits up, hands behind him. "Why?"

"Changbin wants to hang out."

"I thought you were in for the night?" Jeongin's voice goes higher at the end of the sentence.

"Me too! But it's been so long since we've done something fun. Now, which is better? This," You hold a plain black dress up to your body. "-or this?"

You switch the black for a dark red strapless shirt and some black pants and watch his reaction. Although he hesitates, you can already tell he's thinking the second and you toss the dress back toward your closet. After he covers his eyes, you change quickly and do some last touch-ups before leaving the room. Jeongin follows you and you both keep an eye outside for Changbin.

"Be careful, okay?" Jeongin talks low, keeping his eyes on the road when you look over at him. "Lots of energy in those kinds of places, don't need you getting hurt. Especially if you're planning on drinking."

"Are you worried about me?" You tease.

"No, I just don't want you to become one of us before my case is solved."

"Cold."

"Just like my case." This makes you laugh, a light catching the corner of your eye.

Changbin steps out of his vehicle and starts to approach, but you're already waving goodbye to Jeongin and exiting before he can get up the steps to the front door. The night air is crisp, goosebumps forming on your exposed skin, but you're quickly ushered into the warmth of the car. In the window of your house, you can still see Jeongin watching when you drive off. On the way to the bar, you and Changbin sing along to his daily playlist to bring up the mood, and it works incredibly well. By the time you're entering the building, any thoughts of ghosts and death are gone.

Ordering two of the same drink, you and Changbin sit with your backs to the bar and observe the others, making up backstories for each person who passes by you or seems interesting. About four drinks later, Changbin has convinced you to join him on the dance floor. One more drink, and you find yourself surrounded by strangers, distracted by the loud music flowing through your veins. It seeps into your skin and you can feel the beat moving inside you, letting your body take control. In front of you, Changbin shows off his moves and you can hear people cheering, but you know to him it's just the two of you here.

The music slows and so does your body, adrenaline leaving as you brush some hair out of your face. Changbin's expression is all scrunched up in a pout and you laugh at the way he appears to be going in slow motion; it's funny, that is until you notice how everyone around you is following his lead. Panic starts to settle heavy in your chest, turning every direction to try and spot what's causing this.

You sway on your feet as you see the first spirit weaving through the bodies toward you. There's a hole in the center of his head, dried blood crusted down his nose and chin. Moving back to the bar, you stop when you almost hit the chest of someone else; her eyes are dark as she towers over you and you step away. You let your body guide you away, walking turning into a frantic dance to avoid the mass amount of spirits that seem to be mixed with the crowd. The exit isn't too far now, but you seem to be getting sluggish purely from being near this many spirits. You can hear your breathing turn to wheezing as you stumble forward with a hand out, your fingers barely brushing the red handle before someone is wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you away. There's no fight left in you, your eyelids heavy and your body falling limp. Someone is calling your name as you're torn away from whoever is holding you, blurry visions of colourful figures above you being the last thing you see before your eyes flutter shut.

-

When your eyes open, you don't recognize the room you're in. Dust falls from the ceiling, visible in the moonlight coming through a window above you, white curtains pulled to the side. The bed you're in is much too small for your body, pale blue sheets twisted under your legs. Rubbing sleep out of your eyes, you sit up slowly, a wave of dizziness rocking you. Once it's over, you take in the rest of the room.

It appears to be a child's bedroom, string lights pinned corner to corner emitting a dim gold on the walls. Tucked in the corner is a small desk with art supplies messily organized in compartments, one cup of paintbrushes knocked over with dried paint water soaked into a drawing. You stand and pick up the drawing; there's two boys standing by water, but one has been smudged by the spillage. They seem to be watching something out there, but the drawing is unfinished.

Directly next to the desk is an open door leading into a short hallway. Stairs lead downward with candles melting over the railing, wax dripping onto the wooden steps. As you walk toward the stairs, you can't help but look at all the photos covering the walls. Most are artsy, decorative shots, but one in particular catches your eye. There's a family of four, but the photo is torn at the parent's middle, leaving only the children to be seen holding hands and smiling wide. It's almost unsettling.

Following the pathway, it ends at the doorway to what looks like a living room, but all the furniture is covered in white sheets. You cover your mouth to suppress a noise when you spot a man standing by a fireplace. The sound of your hand slapping over your mouth must have alerted him, his head whipping around to look at you.

"What are you...?" He's turning fully now, head tilted to the side and eyes squinting. You have to hold in another gasp when you realize it's Hyunjin you're looking at.

"I don't know," you reply quietly, bringing your hand back to your side. "I've never been here before. I don't know where I am."

"You shouldn't be able to get in here. You-" He stalks toward you and grabs your wrists, bringing you into the room with him.

You watch his eyes widen as the moonlight hits you, eyebrows knitting together and mouth falling open slightly. The grip on your wrists is bruising, and he gives no sign of letting go. There's a shift in the air and he looks away from you and past your head, eyes narrowing at something in the space behind you.

"Back off," He warns, and you're almost too scared to know what he's seeing. "Stay right there."

His voice wavers, hands finally loosening and you're able to pull away completely. This, however, is a mistake. Hyunjin is reaching for you again with a shout of your name as hands grab you from behind, tearing you away from the room, the house, this whole place.

With a gasp, you sit up in a hospital bed, lights blinding you. Someone is touching you, trying to calm you, but you fight them off; you've had enough of peoples skin on yours. Head in your hands, you take deep breathes and notice just how badly you're shaking. You hadn't even realized you were crying until now.

"Y/n! It's just me-" Changbin's voice is clear beside you now that you're a bit more adjusted. "Hey, it's just me. You passed out."

"What?" You finally let him settle you back against the stiff pillow. "I did?"

"Yeah, and I think it's ghost related, but I don't know," Changbin shifts in his chair uncomfortably. "Jeongin's been blowing up your phone."

He hands you the small device and you unlock it to see he's right, Jeongin has been blowing up your phone.

Jeongin replaces Changbin, sitting in the chair with his legs crossed at the ankles. Neither of you talk, but he does stare at you with concern visible on his face. You lay down on your side, keeping your eyes on him as you get comfortable, or at least as much as you can be. There's a moment when he opens his mouth, but a nurse comes into the room to check on you before he can say anything. She explains you'll be able to go home soon, just rest for now.

When she leaves, you sigh. "I wish I never left my bed."

"Me too," Jeongin admits quietly, a faint blush of red creeping up his neck and you giggle.

The energy with him is so different than other spirits and you can't understand why. With him, it's warm, easy; It's not draining or unwelcoming in the slightest. Being with him feels nice, like a dream you don't want to leave.

Jeongin follows you out of the hospital, into the cab they provide, and back into your home. He waits outside of your bedroom as you change, opening the door to let him back in. Crawling into bed, you catch a glimpse of Jeongin next to you. This is the first time you've seen him look so unguarded since you've met, so peaceful, and you drift into sleep thinking of him.

~

notes ~ this is unedited bc it's 2:30 am and i'm tired so pls ignore any mistakes lol

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