#i just need to know what prompted them to say it now-

[finniestoncrane]

Pleaseeeee can I have a softer Cooper who worries a lot about his girlfriend having to deal with people looking at them weird all the time, but who would be happy to yell "THIS IS MY MAN!" to anyone who would listen?

Willingly

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.5k i am already on the soft cooper train oh no lmaooooo just a little bit of soft boyfriend cooper, or as soft as i imagine he can get, being defended by his partner 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: guns, blood, violence, good old fashioned trope fic!

Cooper struggled against your gently grip, his gloved hand pulling away from yours, fingers no longer entwined with yours. You looked to him, noticing he was avoiding your inquisitive gaze, and then noticed the crudely painted sign on the wall ahead of you. The gates to the nearest settlement were just ahead of you. Your last stop before you headed on to the next job.

“What? Are you embarrassed to walk in here holding my hand, Coop?”

His easy, charming smile seemed a little off as he spoke to you, still looking straight ahead.

“You kiddin’? Darlin’, this is for your benefit. Not many settlements are alright with folks like me at the best of times, but with you on my arm? We’d both be in danger, and I can’t keep spendin’ all my time savin’ you.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“I can hold my own. You know that.”

There was no response, but you knew better than to keep fighting your corner in this particular arena. So instead, you sighed, placing your hands which now felt so incredibly cold and empty, back into your pockets to keep them from mindedly grabbing Cooper’s hands again. You couldn’t be too annoyed. For someone as stoic and cold as he could be, the fact he tolerated holding your hand at all was a pleasant enough gesture. But his willingness to offer up any form of physical affection dwindled completed when there was a risk of running into people. He became reserved, quiet, well-behaved almost. It was something you hadn’t expected from him, to be shy or to allow someone else’s opinions to hold him back. And admittedly, a lot of the time, you had worried that it was because he didn’t want to be seen with you. But you knew it was the other way around in his mind. He was afraid of how people would look at you.

As though he could hear your thoughts, knowing you well enough after all this time together, Cooper spoke finally as you sidled up to the gates.

“You wake up to this face smiling. You call me handsome. You say I’m charming. Good lookin’ I might be in your books, but there ain’t a lot of charm left in these old bones, sweetheart. I couldn’t talk my way out of an argument, and since you keep remindin’ me that I’m not allowed to cause problems everywhere we go…”

He tapped his thumb against the barrel of his holstered gun.

“… Then I just better not give anyone any more reason not to like me.”

“Well, I like you, Coop.”

“And I will forever question your judgement on that, kid.”

Smiling, you both passed through the open gate of the settlement and separated with a nod to get the supplies you needed. Quicker, and safer, to go separately. But still, you kept your head down, Cooper with his ragged mask up and his hat brim tipped to cover as much of his face as possible. Quiet, subtle, nondescript.

It didn’t stop them though, three of them. Pointing towards you, setting their beer bottles down on the stained and rusting bar top as they rushed to follow you.

“Hey! Hello there, pretty lady! You all alone?”

Turning, you spotted the colour of the uniform first, immediately recognising that you had made a mistake in even acknowledging them. That telltale burnt orange jumpsuit. The arrogance in their smug smiles. The Brother of Steel.

“No. I’m not alone.”

“Sure looks like you are… you know, maybe you could come on over and we’ll by you a cola?”

They laughed amongst themselves as you walked on. That one answer and a quick disappearing act was all you were willing to give them, turning quickly back and trying to lose them in the crowd as they slapped each other’s backs and spat to the ground.

And you thought you had been successful. You found a trader with everything you needed on your list before you returned to wait just beyond the gate for Cooper, no further interruptions to your day from the louts at the bar. But the entire interaction had out you on edge, so much so that when Cooper appeared behind you, leaning in without you noticing to whisper in your ear, you jumped out of your skin. Luckily, he was quick, and managed to grab your wrist before your fist struck the side of his face.

“Jumpy, aren’t you? Maybe you don’t think I’m so handsome after all.”

His wink made you blush, it always did, and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning like a fool.

“You surprised me is all, smartass.”

Cooper smiled, tightening the grip on your wrist and pulling you closer to him. You feigned some resistance, pretending to put up a fight against his grin, his charms, his strength. But you were following his pull, your lips almost touching his before the blow was landed.

Cooper’s body was knocked completely off balance, his body falling to the ground in a cloud of dust. Turning in the direction he was hit from, you found yourself staring down the three members of the Brotherhood from the market. Holding back some of the choice words you had for them, you managed to narrow it down to one question simple enough for even them to answer.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Shocked by your ungrateful attitude, one of the men, the largest of the three, stepped forward and pushing your shoulder with his finger.

“We’re saving you from assault, lady! This monster had its hands all over you, but don’t worry, we’ll take care of it. And you’re welcome.”

You scoffed, face going red with rage as you knelt to help Cooper up.

“You’re not saving me, asshole! You’re ruining the fucking vibe, you dweebs.”

Again, a far more polite term than you had wanted to use, but that didn’t seem to make the men any less aggressive towards either Cooper or now you. The largest of the men grabbed your arm, pulling you back up and away from the hand that Cooper had held out to you.

“Oh… you’re one of those freaks! No wonder you turned down some good old-fashioned heroes like us then.”

One of the others nudged you to the side, the other pushing Cooper back down to the ground with a kick, turning around as all of them converged on you until your back was against the wall. Nowhere to go. Trapped by them as they made their disgusting comments.

“Why would you waste your time on some abomination like that, huh? You into freaky stuff? Cos I could sure show you a thing or two. What’s he got? Like two cocks or something weird like that?”

You spat out your retort, well aware of the repercussions, but not caring.

“He could be feral and I’d still let him touch me before I even thought about letting any of you near me.”

Bracing for impact, you squeezed your eyelids shut, opening them again moments later when you realised you hadn’t been hit yet. Instead, all three of the Knights were on the ground, Cooper kneeling over them as he tightened the lasso and added the long length around their wrists for measure.

“Oughta keep ‘em long enough for us to make our escape, hm?”

You nodded, smiling, surprised still at how effective he was at handling anything the Wasteland threw at him.

“And I did it all without too much violence and noise, like you asked.”

“My hero.”

You swooned playfully, watching him as he made his way to stand beside you, both of you looking down without an ounce of pity at the men who writhed before you in the dirt.

“And look at you, shouting all those kind words about me for anyone to hear.”

“I keep telling you, Coop. I can hold my own, and I don’t care what people think.”

“You sure about that, darlin’? The likes of these fellas don’t put you off none?”

His eyes darted towards the Knights, now trussed up and struggling against each other on the ground, straining their necks to move their heads out of the line of Cooper’s gun.

“What? You think I’m put off by the Brotherhood? Yeah… and the rads put me off stuffing tin after tin of delicious cram down my throat.”

Cooper grabbed your hand in his, initiating the contact for the first time, and pulled you away back onto the cracked road. He knew he’d let go before you hit the next settlement, but he felt a little bit better about the risks associated. Especially since he had to admit, you could hold your own. And you were determined to do so when it came to him. It was nice to feel like he could let the affection be reciprocated.

#fallout #fallout amazon #x reader #finnie writes #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #cooper howard x fem!reader

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑 ꒱ 박지성

summary : baking cookies with your boyfriend, who doesn’t actually know how to bake, leads to him getting playful

genre : fluff, jisung x afab!reader tws : kissing, language (i said hell once oh no) author notes : what can i say~~ word count : 0.7k

“jisung! oh my god, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

the man looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed, “it’s just a spoon…”

“yes — well, let me do it. can’t have my little baby getting hurt.” you pushed him away from the countertop, taking the wood spoon from his hand without protest. jisung was slightly shocked at your seriousness, however he let you carry out whatever was justified inside your head, giggling quietly.

he replied matter-of-factly, “you’re younger than me, y/n, and much shorter.” but you didn’t care about his truthful words. you liked to tease jisung, as he was easy to make blush.

“yeah, yeah, you’re welcome, i love you too. now, can you read the next instruction please?”

you looked to your big bowl of blended sugar, butter, eggs and vanilla, then to the smaller one of flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt.

“it says to start mixing in the flour gradually.” he summarized while looking awfully focused, lips pouted. "then we can cut out shapes."

“okay!” you turned to him, “can you pour a little in while i mix it together? i’ll tell you when to add more.”

he took the bowl within his large hands, watching as you began to mix the two contents little by little. you thought it was adorable how concentrated he was for you, knowing that he wasn’t the best cook or baker out there — he tried his best to do as the recipe said so they’d turn out decent and make you happy... and honestly, he just wanted to prompt a decorating competition once they had cooled.

"add the rest, ji."

your boyfriend did as you said, turning the bowl over so that the rest of the contents spilled out. you huffed a quiet laugh when some of it scattered on the counter, jisung trying to right the wrong by scooping it up with his hand.

he looked at you apologetically, "don't worry about it, baby." you began, pushing your finger into the contents and then swiping it across his nose. he was shocked at first, but then he smiled, just as you intended. "we need some flour on the counter anyways to roll them out."

he mimicked your actions, swiping his finger through the excess, grabbing you by your cheeks and then pressing it against your nose gently. he smiled so sweetly at you, you found it hard to not do the same.

you gave him a look as he stated, "now we're even." letting you go back to stirring the mixture.

"you're not even competitive, ji." you mumbled the last bit, "besides, i'd let you win." but he heard you loud and clear. and it sparked that non-competitiveness; that was really just playfulness disguised.

the next couple of seconds went by too quick for you to even comprehend, but as if your eyes were closed jisung had gotten a pinch of flour out of jar and tossed it in your direction. it scattered across your face, falling to your chest. maybe he couldn’t believe it either as his eyes grew, your features straight and scrunched up.

his hand remained in the air when your eyes did finally open; caught red handed like he wasn’t the only other person in your kitchen — and the bowl sure as hell didn’t do that to you.

you let the spoon fall against the edge of the glass, fully turning to face the man at your side. “jisung…”

he became flustered, apologizing while using his flour-filled fingers to wipe your cheeks. your boyfriend paused when your feigned anger broke, a giggle escaping your lips.

you grabbed some flour, a smile on your face as you backed the man against the counter, trapping him. he looked curiously, seemingly accepting his fate.

you brushed your hands together, pushing them against his black shirt and leaving handprints over his chest that caused you both to laugh. then, you grabbed his cheeks, pulling him down to your level; but just before you met, you stopped, lips centimeters apart.

you admired his closed eyes, features tinted pink like he had blush on, and slightly parted lips. you both knew that you could pull him apart by his seams, and that he’d gladly accept it.

jisung moved first, closing the gap easily. he gripped your waist, pressing your lower back to get you as close as he could. you knew there’d probably be a couple flour-fingerprints against your leggings, but you honestly found it funny, cracking a smile against his lips.

he broke away, slightly winded, and still holding you close. “can we finish? i want to cut out a meummwonbom shape.”

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

#kpop #kpop requests #kpop writing #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #kpopidol #kpop bg #romance #nct dream #nct #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct ff #nct requests #park jisung #nct jisung #nct drabbles #nct dream jisung #kpop fluff #kpop x reader #kpop boys #kpop drabbles #kpop x y/n #kpop reading #nct dream reactions #nct dream fluff #nct dream fic

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Love to Hate You [Teaser]

Pairing: royal secretary!San x female scholar!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Summary: San prided himself on his knack for building easy connections with women, viewing himself as a trusted ally for the opposite gender. Thanks to his deep bonds with his mother and sister, he possessed keen insights into the female mindset. Never did he imagine facing the ire of a woman, until he encountered a resolute female scholar with a strong dislike towards men.

A/N: Once again, special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for coming up with the main concept of San's spinoff.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist

"I'm just trying to help, Scholar Moon," the royal secretary insisted, his arms emptying as the stack of books he was previously carrying was abruptly snatched away by the newly acquainted female scholar.

You scoffed in response, "I don't remember asking for your help, sir. I understand it must be quite intriguing to meet a female scholar for the first time. However, there's a reason I'm the first. I'm not your typical damsel in distress. I don't need saving. While you may be used to women swooning at your feet, rest assured, I won't be one of them."

San stood in stunned silence as he watched you storming off in a fit of anger, completely taken aback by your hostile response to his well-intentioned gesture.

He had stumbled upon you as you exited the royal library burdened with a stack of borrowed books, his innate helpfulness and gentlemanly nature immediately prompted him to offer assistance without hesitation. But rather than the customary grateful smile and expression of thanks he anticipated, he couldn't believe he was met with such an unexpected and vehement reaction.

Did I... do something wrong?

A court lady standing nearby widened her eyes in disbelief. "Did you seriously just say that? Do you even know who he is?"

You rolled your eyes dismissively. "Probably just a eunuch, why?" you retorted, waving off her concern. "I doubt any high-ranking officials would pay me any mind."

"Well, you're correct about that. He's not a high-ranking official, but he is someone close to the King. He's the royal secretary," she disclosed, causing your heart to nearly stop as you gaped at her.

He's the what?!

I'll do my best to get the first part out as soon as I can! Hope you're excited about Sannie's spinoff hehe as always, let me know your thoughts on the concept! <3

Tag list (1/9): Tumblr is a bitch and won't let me mention more than 5 users in a single sentence, so now my tag list looks like a complete joke🤡

@itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr |

@cheolliehugs @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline |

@green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive |

@vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho |

@vic0921 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid |

@sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @myblovedjyh @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings |

@chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories |

@anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @dollce-exe @jan-l |

@lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 @dreamingofyeo @akimkim |

@scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @borntoshineateez @st4rhwa |

@ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 @skteezcursed @beauty143 |

@naps-over-degree @idfkeddieishot @sis-101 @lemon-sage17 @jcalicocatj

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

#edenesth #the way to his heart #love to hate you #twthh spinoff #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #choi san #ateez san #historical au #joseon era #choi san x reader #choi san x you #ateez fic

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Cuddles | Andy Barber

Pairing -> Husband!Andy Barber x Wife!Reader

Summary -> When Andy comes home after an exhausting day he only wants to cuddle.

Wordcount -> 574

Warnings -> (G) none, just fluff

Request -> the fluffy prompts for 1k special number 1 with Andy or Stevie? 🥺 plss take your time ofc🥰

A/N -> Thank you for the request, hope you enjoy.

Masterlist | Andy Barber Masterlist

Andy loves to be cuddled up with you in bed, feeling your weight on top of him, and just letting all the stress from the day flow away. Just feeling your warm body against his, listening to your soft voice, or just laying there in silence and enjoying the closeness to one another.

When the door opens and almost slams against the wall, you hiss, knowing that your husband had an exhausting and annoying day at work. So you get up from the couch, listening to his constant hums while he takes off his shoes and his jacket.

“Honey, are you home?” His exhausted voice echoes through the house. With a soft smile on your lips, you make your way to the floor, leaning against the doorframe while you look at Andy.

“You oke? Exhausting day? I made some food, if you want,” you say, reaching your hand out for him to grab, but he just walks closer and pushes your hand down.

Before you can ask what’s wrong, he has his muscular arms already wrapped around your waist, lifting you up and causing you to giggle slightly. His beard is scratching your sensitive skin. His hands holding you pressed against him while he walks with you into the living room before he lets himself fall down on the couch.

You’re sitting on his lap, your head resting against his shoulder and your legs on both sides of his waist, while you slide your fingers through his soft, brown hair, causing him to lean into your touch and sight softly.

You kiss Andy’s neck, your lips trailing in slow movements over the soft skin, leaving some marks every now and then when you decide to bite or suck on his skin. Low groans are leaving your husband's lips whenever your teeth graze over his neck. But he is still tiling his head to the side, giving you more space to kiss his neck.

Andy sits for a while with you on his lap like that. But he wants to feel you on top of him, not just in his lap. He wants to feel your weight in his muscular body and your warmth surrounding him, and Andy wants to feel your heartbeat against his chest.

So he grasps you by your thighs, turning slightly and letting himself fall backwards until he lays on the couch. You chuckle, letting yourself fall on top of him, and then you rest your chin on his chest, smirking when he tries to move you higher so your head rests on his shoulder.

Andy’s hands are pressing tight against his, and he hums, satisfied. He draws small circles on your back, his face resting in the crock of your neck. His lips are scratching over your neck, and you giggle softly.

“Don’t you want to eat something? We can cuddle later,” you say, sliding your fingers through his soft hair.

“I don’t mind cuddling all day with you; I don’t need food,” he mumbles, pulling you even closer before he sighs softly. His fingers slide to your sides, and he pokes them into your soft skin, causing you to giggle and squirm. “I love you.”

Andy chuckles when you still squirm on top of him. His hands hold you by your waist. “I love you too,” you mumble, biting into his shoulder until he stops tickling you and wraps his arms even tighter around you, chuckling into your neck.

Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @cevansbaby-dove @capsbestgirl77 @princesscore-angel

#andy barber one shot #andy barber fluff #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber x you #andy barber fic #andy barber x reader #andy barber #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x yn #andy barber x f!reader #andy barber x y/n #chris evans andy barber #andy barber chris evans #chris evans character x yn #chris evans character x fem reader #chris evans character x you #chris evans character x reader #chris evans characters #chris evans character fanfiction

[caxde]

congratulations on a milestone! 🎉

could i request this prompt;

person a comes out looking amazing, and person b is literally too stunned to speak. person b's hand is on their chest as if they're trying to catch their breath. person b so desperately wants to reach out and say something, until person a grabs person c's hand. 

with person a as reader and the others as eddie and steve, whoever way round you like 🖤

thank you for the lovely request anon, hope this is everything you wanted! i might do a part2 cus honestly I had so much fun writing it <33

steve x reader x eddie 2.9k | lovingsomeone

“So, will you actually say something to her this time?” Robin teased Eddie for the hundredth time. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snapped back, shaking his head as he overly enunciated every word, trying desperately to not blush at the thought of you. 

“Sure you don’t.” She breathed out, pushing her head back. 

Robin had always been preceptive, even more so when it came to her best friends. Maybe that’s why Robin had no problem when it came time to figure out what was going on. 

She was the first -and maybe only one- to catch Eddie’s lips opening, the clenched fists, the way he always tried to make you laugh or how he looked fastly over at you everytime something funny happened, just so he could see you smile. 

It wasn’t long after when she clocked Steve doing something similar. Steve would always fix his hair before talking to you, he took a step closer than he had to when he was talking to you, his hand lingered when he passed something to you. Most importantly, Steve was a big flirt, and Robin could tell it was working. 

She still was unsure about you. 

She had caught you looking at Eddie when he was deep into a story, your eyelids half closed, as if you were daydreaming about him, and she was sure she had seen you bite your lower lip after looking at his neck. 

But today you had called Steve an idiot with a dumb smile, a playful touch to his chest that had left your cheeks with a pinkish hue, only made worse when Steve grabbed your hand so he could make you twirl to the sound of the music emanating from his car before he left when he dropped you both off. 

Robin was now sitting outside the car park, with an Eddie who was lost into you. 

Eddie couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, and the way your hair moved as you walked closer to them. 

“You’re doing okay?” She asked with an eyebrow raised, as she schotched over so you’d sit next to her as you always did. 

Eddie didn’t even look up, he just grabbed the chocolate bar he had in his pocket, for exactly that reason, handing it over to you. 

“You don’t have to.” Your voice came out all shy, a soft smile as you looked at the colorufull wrapper that laid right in his hands. 

“I know.” Eddie muttered, nodding his head at you, the usual grin he had only for you appearing on his face. 

“Thanks Eds.” You managed to say, grabbing it and biting it. 

Robin rolled her eyes as soon as she saw Eddie focusing on the way your lips opened, stifling a laugh as she shook her head. Both of you are oblivious to the way the other feels.

“Are we still going to the dance tonight?” You asked, breaking the small moment of silence that had formed. 

“Is it tonight?” Eddie asked, his usual teasing tone in his voice every time this topic came up. 

“Yes…” You squinted your eyes at him, knowing he’d smile as soon as he saw you. 

“Yeah, we’ll be here.” Robin confirmed, standing up from the little curbside she had settled into. “Can you give me a ride, Eds?” She asked, tussing her hair in the middle of the question. 

“Uh, sure. D’you need a ride, dove?” Eddie was embarrassed as soon as he muttered the nickname he tried, recomforted by the way you seemed to be pleased by it. 

“I think Steve’s picking me up.” You felt a bit guilty saying it, made worse by Eddie pressing his lips together, followed by a short nod as he went to find his van. 

“Okay, what’s the deal?” Robin had had enough of playing detective. She needed to know what was going through your mind. 

“What do you mean?” You scrunch your nose, not really wanting to know if she was asking what you thought she meant. 

“Oh come on! Eddie’s got a crush on you, Steve has a crush on you, you..?” She left the question open, wanting you to finish it with an answer, instead you got all flustered, standing up straight in a fast motion, trying to make sense of what she had just said. 

“Eddie doesn’t have a crush on me! Neither does Steve, he’s just being nice… And I just, they’re both…” 

“Hot?” 

“Shut up…” You punched her on her shoulder, a giggle escaping both of your lips. “They both treat me so well, and they’re kind and yeah… they’re hot.” 

Robin couldn’t help but laugh, and neither could you, it only made it worse when Robin suggested that if you played your cards right, you might see Paris. 

It continued until Steve’s car stopped next to you. 

Steve stepped out, fixing his hair in a movement that made you wish you could be the one fixing it. His other hand held a small gathering of wild flowers, with pink carnations sticking out of them. Robin's mouth opened wide, as she saw how Steve moved closer to you, looking nervous. 

“Hi.” You chirped, as soon as he stood right in front of you, his feet almost touching yours. 

“Hi.” He stuttered a bit, his nervous energy made evident. He gave a quick glance at Robin, who just nodded, stepping back a bit. “I uh… I know this might be cheesy but, these are for you–” He stopped talking when your fingers brushed his, the same feeling he always had invading your body. An electricity, a warmness that was hard to explain. 

“They are lovely… Why…?” The sweetest tone that could be heard as a melody came out of your lips, and Steve could live in it for an eternity. 

“I… I kinnda wanna take you to the dance, if you’re okay with it.” He begged, a faint trace on it on his tone, as he stepped a bit closer, your feet between his opened legs. His eyes locked into yours, you were a goner as soon as you looked at him and the way his lips curved a bit more on the right than they did on the left. 

“Like a date?” You echoed, a glimpse of hope evident enough that his teeth were now showing when he smiled as he nodded. “I’d love to.” 

Steve caressed your cheek as he reached to hold your hand, walking you to his car as he opened the door for you, he was still going to drive you home. 

Unlucky for Eddie, he had seen the whole thing, and Robin said nothing, just waited for him to start the car. 

-

You and Robin were supposed to get picked up by Steve, who was supposed to pick Eddie up. 

It did happen, only that the tension in the car between both boys could be felt, even from outside and with the windows rolled up. 

No music was playing on the radio, Steve was grabbing the steering wheel a bit harder than he needed to -his knuckles turning white- whilst Eddie kept playing with his index finger, one swipe left, two swipes right. 

Eddie wanted to talk, to ask Steve is he was serious about it, but the smell of aftershave was intoxicating enough to confirm he was. 

As soon as the car stopped, Eddie looked at the wooden doors of Robin’s house, and the way Steve walked them up with such confidence -even if he was just faking it, he was nervous about it all going well, so much so he hadn’t even realised he drove over with no music on- he left a knock on the door, for it to open shortly after. 

You were truly breathtaking. 

Red had never looked that good. The dress hugged your chest, a flowy skirt dropping from your waist, your arms decorated with the same red colour as what looked like a scarf fell from them. Your hair was out of your face, your eyes shined a bit more, your lips looked pinker, juicier. He was losing his mind. 

It only hurt a bit more when he realised he had his hand out, waiting for yours to fit in it, but you moved past him, accepting Steve’s instead, as he twirled you around, praising you, telling you just how good you looked. A shower of compliments Eddie was also thinking, but couldn’t articulate. He just stared at the floor, only looking up when he felt Robin’s touch on his shoulder, a look of compassion held between the both of them. 

Nobody would blame you, or the hyperfixation you had all of a sudden with the way Steve’s neck looked, the red tie wrapping around it, contrasting with the white shirt. What was worse, you had never realised just how many moles and freckles Steve’s skin had, the one that laid where his jaw met his neck was particularly driving you insane. You danced the night away, mostly it was the four of you in a little circle, chatting and drinking whatever was inside the punch. Steve’s hands only found your waist when a slow song played. His thumbs grabbed you a bit too hard, in a way that he knew immediately why you bit your lower lip, and in response your hands were behind his neck, your nails tracing a patron in his skin, tugging his hair slightly. He grinned, chuckled and made you laugh, his eyes shining, looking at yours. You had never seen such beauty in brown until now. 

Maybe you did like Steve, and maybe he did like you. 

Eddie went outside. As soon as he saw you biting your lip, his hands on your waist, yours in his hair, he needed some air. 

He wished it were him. He wasn’t as fancy as Steve was, he had a white shirt under his uncle's old muted brown shirt. He struggled to remember in which pocket he put the Marlboro's away. He had been fidgeting with his lighter for a while, needing, craving a moment of silence. 

He was almost done smoking as he felt sorry for himself, when he heard the doors opening, the sudden music became clear for those brief seconds. 

He turned around, seeing you walking towards him with the biggest smile he had seen in your face for a while. 

For a brief moment, he forgot he was hurt. 

“You do look beautiful Moon” You told him as soon as you reached him, your body next to his, snatching the half smoked cigarette that he had in between his fingers. 

He scoffed, turning his whole body to look at you, he saw the way you smiled up at him, you were being sincere which was only just as hurting as you dancing with him had been. 

“Beautiful?” He questioned, a slight teasing on his tone as he inched closer, breathing in the smoke you let out, stealing the cigarette back. 

“Yeah, beautiful handsome Eddie.” You uttered, the faint smell of alcohol left your mouth, Eddie scrunch his nose. 

“You’re drunk?” 

“No, only had one drink. But you’ve been moody, I miss you in there.” You chirped back, your usual playful tone didn’t make him smile, not even grin. You got worried right there and then. Your hand reaching for his, trying to pull him back into the party. 

“I’m sure you’ll have a great time.” He implied, nodding at Steve who was just now opening the door, looking for you with a lovesick grin on his face. 

“What’s going on?” You weren’t sure what you had done to leave him in such a state, he seemed hurt, his words colder than they had even been. 

“Nothing.” Eddie lied, you hated lies. 

Something in you clicked, as you saw the way Steve smiled you, a contradiction to Eddie’s pursed lips as his jawline looked sharper than it ever did. 

Robin’s words echoed in your head Eddie’s got a crush on you, Steve’s got a crush on you. 

“Well, next time have the courage to ask me out before someone else does…” You snapped back, your arms crossing over your chest, a protective stance taking hold of you as you stepped back. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He shook his head, his hair brushing against his face, an apologetic look on his eyes that made you want to cry. 

“It means don’t just suppose nobody will want me, am I supposed to wait for you forever?” 

Eddie couldn’t quite believe that declaration, knowing now you might also have some feeling for him, but he was a little too late. You sniffled your nose, shaking your head, your hair flowing everywhere. “Forget it.” You declared, leaving the little bubble you were in. 

You walked over to Steve, and he just looked at you, the smile he had turned as soon as he saw the way your eyes were crystalizing, menacing with tears. He cupped your cheeks with his hands. 

You gave in, your body hitting his, Eddie just saw the way your shoulders moved up and down. 

You were crying now. 

“Honey…” Steve begged as he took you in his arms. “Do you want to leave?” 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered back, feeling warmer in his arms, the coldness of Eddie’s words brushing away with the closeness of Steve’s body. 

“Don’t be. We can go anywhere you want. As long as I’m with you I’m happy.” He blurted, his eyes looking at yours, his thumbs brushing out the tear that came out of them. 

“Are you sure?” 

“‘curse I am.” He added, a smile returning to his lips, before he kissed the crown of your head. “I can also drop you off.” He offered, you shook you head. 

“I don’t wanna be alone.” You answered, your voice still barely above a whisper. 

“That’s fine, you wanna go for a walk?” He replayed instead, taking your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. 

As soon as you nodded he started walking. He didn’t push for you to talk, he didn’t try to make assumptions, but of course he did. 

The last he had seen was you talking with Eddie. Steve had always thought that Eddie was beautiful, he had a magnetic pull with people that was hard to explain, and he also knew that Eddie was sharp with his words. So he gave you enough time to gather your thoughts. 

“I do like you…” You confessed, your tone remaining low and soft as you spoke, looking at the ground, not confident enough to look at him right now. 

“I like you too.” He gleamed with pride, though he thought that much was obvious. 

“I… I figured that out with the flowers.” You recalled, as a shiver from the cold air made you shake a bit. 

Steve wasted no second, his tuxedo jacket laying on your shoulders now. 

“The flowers gave me away?” He teased, a short chuckle in the back of his throat. “It wasn’t my constant offer to drive you anywhere?” He admitted with a defeated laugh. 

“I thought you were being nice.” You admitted, still not looking at him, much more interested in the way your shoe made contact with the ground beneath your feet. 

“I was. I also have this crush on you.” The word sended shivers down your spine. 

“Robin says Eddie also has a crush on me.” That when you looked up, seeing a defeated nod from Steve only confirmed it. “I… I don’t know what to do.” 

“I don’t wanna tell you what to do, but… while you figure it out, can I defend my case?” He pleaded, his waist bumping into yours, his finger under your chin. He was being brave, he was finally taking his chance. 

As soon as you nodded, and your lips parted, your eyes darting between his eyes and his lips, a neediness that became clear as you realised what was about to happen, Steve got closer. Close enough to breathe the same air as you, his mouth a whisper away from yours, enjoying that tension that had formulated in the air. He was enjoying that bit of power, feeling how bad you wanted him. You were the one to finally close the distance, and he was ecstatic about it. He took his time, his lips moving gracefully against yours, your hands tugging the back of his neck, one of his was lost in the space between your neck and your jawline, applying a pressure that made you moan against his lips, thought maybe that was due to the way his other hand was grabbing your waist, his fingers would leave a mark, that much was clear. 

As soon as you break off the kiss, the lovesick smile on both of your faces was evident. 

“That was…” He muttered, left speechless by your kisses, needing more of them. 

“You are a good kisser.” You slightly teased him back, recalling the rumors about him in a joyful manner. 

He kissed you a lot more after that, having to stop walking in the middle of the road as you went to find his car. 

Robin saw it, and decided it was best if she kept her mouth shut this time, but she did overhear the last thing Steve whispered to you before going back into the car. “I don’t mind sharing, you can figure out whatever you need, honey.” 

She already saw the headache coming, and really regretted that Eddie didn’t see the way your cheeks flustered at the idea of being with him for a while. 

-

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[cre8inghavoc]

What are friends for?

PT. 11

Status: ongoing!!

Updates: no set date.

WC: 4300

Pairing: megumi fushiguro x FEM!reader

Genre/Warnings:[18+] Characters are aged up. This story contains toxic boyfriend, cursing, name calling, self-doubt/hate, angst, breaking up, post-breakup, alcohol, drug use, drunk moments, new friends, dating!au, college!au, no curses!au, dark humour, dark jokes. SMAU. Smut.

Recap:

As Megumi is about to head upstairs, Itadori stops him and pulls him to the side with a serious expression. "Yo, Megumi," he begins, catching Megumi's attention. Megumi turns to face him, a hint of confusion showing on his face. "What's up?"

"You gotta tell her, you know…" Itadori's tone is firm, his eyes locked on Megumi's.

Megumi furrows his brows, trying to understand. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Megumi," Itadori insists, his voice dropping slightly. "I'm not stupid. I saw the hickey on her neck. I know it's from you. And I'm happy for you, man. I'm glad you're both talking again. But seriously, you need to tell her… or else things are gonna get fucked over again."

Megumi meets Itadori's gaze, his mind racing as he processes the gravity of the situation. After a moment of contemplation, he nods solemnly. "Yeah, I will." 

"When is it happening? Is it your last one?" Itadori asks, his concern evident.

Megumi stares at him, his expression unreadable, before glancing at the time: 4:52 am. "Yeah, if y/n's asleep, then I'll go now," he replies, a sense of urgency creeping into his tone.

"It's your last time doing this... right?"

Megumi meets Itadori's gaze with a serious expression and nods silently.

He heads upstairs to his bedroom, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet house. Slowly, he nudges the door open just a bit, sneaking a peek inside. There you are, lying so peacefully on his bed. Seeing you like that, he can't help but smile. He figures you're completely knocked out, just by the way your chest rises up and down slowly.

Carefully, he steps into the room, trying not to disturb you. He places a glass of water on the nightstand nearby, a small gesture to make sure you're comfortable. With your eyes closed, you expect him to climb back into bed and pull you close, but he doesn't. Instead, you hear him shuffling around in his closet, then the soft click of the door as he leaves. The room suddenly feels a bit emptier without him, a stark contrast to the warmth you were anticipating.

Fully awake now, you scan around the room, but Megumi is nowhere to be seen. Sensing something amiss, you quickly get out of bed and grab a sweater and sweatpants from his closet to get dressed in before leaving his room and heading to the stairs.

As you approach the stairs, you spot Itadori and Megumi standing in front of the house door. Intrigued, you're about to head down to ask them what they're up to until you overhear their conversation. "Just stick to the plan," Itadori says, prompting a flood of questions in your mind. Plan? What plan? You can't help but wonder. 

"Once you're done, send me the message, and I'll let Gojo know," Itadori continues, mentioning someone named Gojo. Gojo as in our Professor? The pieces of the puzzle aren't quite fitting together, leaving you confused and curious about their discussion.

"Got it. Thanks, Itadori," Megumi replies before stepping outside.

“Oh, and Megumi!” Itadori interjects before Megumi can step outside. Megumi turns around to face him, and Itadori hands him a small bottle. Megumi accepts it with a nod, tucking it into his pocket.

"Be careful," Itadori says, his voice carrying genuine concern and a hint of worry.

"I always am," Megumi replies, his smile offering reassurance. With that, he heads out, and Itadori closes the door behind him.

You've already made your way downstairs, and when Itadori turns to head up the stairs, he almost bumps into you, jolting back in fear as he wasn't expecting you to be there. 

"Y/N! Holy shit, you scared me," he exclaims, catching his breath. 

You look at him and then at the door behind him. "Where is Megumi going?" 

"Uh... he just went to grab something. He'll be back soon," Itadori replies, his tone a bit nervous. 

"At 5 in the morning?" you question, raising an eyebrow. 

"Oh yeah, you know he's an early bird...."

"Hm. Let's go follow him then," you suggest, moving toward the door. However, Itadori steps in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. 

"Let's not do that! He wants to be alone right now," 

"Don't be silly, Itadori! Come on," you insist, reaching for his car keys. But Itadori quickly snatches them from the table.

 "Y/n, seriously, let's just go back to sleep. He'll be back soon," he urges, his tone firm.

"Why are you being weird?" you ask, puzzled by Itadori's behaviour. 

Glancing down at the side table where everyone usually keeps their keys, you spot Toge's keys. You move closer to the door while Itadori is still in front of you, and notice him taking a step back every time you take a step forward. Slowly reaching for the door handle, you touch it and open the door. "Megumi's still here, maybe I'll go ask him," you say, tricking Itadori as he turns around to check. Seizing the opportunity, you quickly grab Toge's car keys and duck under Itadori's arm, running out the door and getting into Toge's car. You start up the engine, and hit the gas quickly before Itadori can even react.

Barely processing what happened, Itadori runs out the door, locking it and rushing to his car to follow you. "Fuck, Y/n, what the fuck," he breathes out, stressed, as he tries to catch up to you while you drive ahead.

You speed off, determined to find Megumi, and soon spot his car on the highway. "Found you," you mutter to yourself as you catch up to him, trying not to attract attention. There weren't many cars out at this hour, which was a relief considering your current state of intoxication. However, the lack of traffic also meant that any movement could draw unwanted attention. You tread carefully, mindful of the need to avoid attracting too much notice as you navigate the quiet streets.

Glancing in the mirror, you see Itadori's car right behind you. "Damn it, Itadori!" you curse under your breath, feeling the stress mounting. As he pulls up beside you, you both roll down your windows "Y/N, just turn back around!" he shouts, frustration evident in his voice. 

"For a minute, Itadori, please, just fuck off!" you plead, feeling the urgency to find out what Megumi is up to. With determination, you hit the gas, speeding up to overtake him. Spotting Megumi exiting the highway, you follow suit, trailing him into a mysterious town in the middle of nowhere. Realizing that following him directly might raise suspicion, you decide to turn off your headlights and make a discreet U-turn to enter the town. 

As you proceed cautiously, you notice Megumi's car parked ahead. Opting to stay inconspicuous, you pull over behind a building, grateful that Toge's car is black and less obvious in the dimly lit area.

You step out of your car, taking in the dimly lit surroundings. The neighbourhood is quiet, with not a lot of buildings in sight, most if not all of them are old looking. As you make your way toward Megumi's car, you're careful not to draw attention to yourself. 

Why on earth would Megumi be here?

You hide behind a tree, looking out into the sparse glow, spotting Megumi standing alone in the empty parking lot. You can't help but notice that Megumi has something covering the lower half of his face—maybe a mask? 

What are you up to Megumi?

You observe him lighting up something and bringing it to his mouth, while adjusting his mask just enough to inhale. Leaning against a nearby light pole, he seems lost in thought. 

Is he just here to smoke? Could this be what he and Itadori were talking about? his last time before he stops? But why this place, if that's the case? Is it one of his secret “spots” he goes to escape? 

You ponder these questions as your mind races. Suddenly, your attention is diverted as you notice another figure approaching, also clad in black with a mask covering half of their face. Megumi swiftly adjusts his mask back down over his mouth as he puts out the finished blunt under his foot.

What the fuck?

You watch as the two figures stare at each other, but their masks make it impossible to tell if they're talking. With careful steps, you get closer, trying to catch any snippets of conversation. It's hard to make out their words, but their gestures indicate they're definitely engaged in a discussion. Then, to your dismay, you see Megumi reach into his pocket and pull out something Itadori gave him earlier. Your heart sinks as you realize what it is. 

Is he fucking dealing drugs? 

What the actual fuck is going on.

Rage consumes you as you witness the scene unfolding before your eyes. You knew that you shouldn’t, knew it was dumb, but you couldn’t control the amount of anger propelling you forward. You dash towards them, unable to contain yourself any longer.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" you shout at Megumi, your voice filled with fury.

 His expression drops at the sight of you, and you can almost feel the weight of his thoughts. 

Damn it, Y/n, what the hell are you doing? he silently curses.

“What are you doing here?" he responds, his tone casual but his eyes betraying a simmering frustration. He's furious that you've stumbled upon this scene. You weren't supposed to witness this. Heck you weren't supposed to be here.

"You don't get to ask me what I'm doing here. What the hell are you doing here, and who the hell are you?" you fire back, your anger boiling over. 

You glare at Megumi and the stranger standing before him. Before Megumi can even respond, the man bursts into laughter. You exchange puzzled glances with Megumi, then turn your attention back to the stranger. 

"I knew I recognized you," he declares, pulling off his mask.

You stare at the man in disbelief. "Hey, sweetheart, missed me?" he says, winking at you before you snap back to reality, your shock quickly turning to fury.

"Haruta?"

"What the hell is going on? Why are you with my ex-boyfriend?" you demand, your anger escalating with each word. 

"Y/n, it's not what it looks like," Megumi begins, but you cut him off with a scathing retort. 

"Like hell it isn't, Megumi." 

Your ex continues to laugh, only fueling your rage. "It's exactly what it looks like, isn't it, 'Megumi? Dealing drugs?" he taunts, and you shoot him a venomous glare. 

"Shut the hell up, I'm not talking to you," you hiss, pointing a finger in his direction. 

"Oh, still fierce as ever, are we?"  Your heart pounds in your chest, his words dripping with mockery. Before you can react, he moves closer and grabs your wrist and pulls you towards him, his grip firm and unyielding. Panic surges through you as his arm snakes around your neck, trapping you in a suffocating embrace. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat, as his other hand reaches into his pocket, retrieving a knife. The cold metal presses against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Paralyzed by fear, you can only gasp in shock, praying for a miracle to save you from this nightmare.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" Megumi shouts, his anger boiling over. Megumi's hand clenches into a tight fist, his nails digging into his skin with a ferocity that threatens to draw blood. His knuckles whiten with the intensity of his anger, a potent mix of fury and desperation swirling within him. The sight of you in danger ignites a primal rage deep within his core, fueling his resolve to protect you at any cost. Every fiber of his being strains against the urge to lash out, his muscles tensing as he struggles to contain the seething emotions coursing through him.

"Scared I'm gonna hurt your little girlfriend?" your ex taunts, provoking Megumi further. 

"Watch who the hell you're talking to," Megumi warns, his voice laced with more anger. Megumi takes a step forward, ready to intervene, but freezes in his tracks as he sees your ex move the knife dangerously close to your neck. The sight of the blade drawing blood makes his blood run cold, a surge of fear and anger coursing through him. He's torn between rushing to your defense and the fear of escalating the situation further. Helplessness washes over him as he watches you flinch from the prick of the blade, It's a gut-wrenching moment, and he struggles to find a way to keep you safe without making things worse.

"G-gumi," Your voice trembles as you manage to utter Megumi's name, desperation and fear lacing your words. As you lock eyes with him, you see the fear and stress mirrored in his own gaze.

"Oh, don't be like that, sweetheart," he taunts in a cocky tone, his grip tightening around you. "Why say his name when I'm the one holding you close to me?" His words drip with arrogance, a cruel reminder of your vulnerability in this precarious situation. You can feel the tension in the air thickening, his voice a chilling contrast to the fear coursing through your veins.

"What the hell do you want?" Megumi's voice cuts through the tension, sharp with anger. His words are a demand, a challenge to your ex to justify his actions. The intensity in his tone is palpable, a reflection of the protective rage burning within him.

"Why are you doing this, Haruta?" you manage to choke out, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. His grip tightens on you, a cruel reminder of your vulnerability.

"Oh, come on, I think Megumi knows exactly why." He says while glancing at Megumi. "And honestly, you, y/n, made it quite easier for me." His laughter echoes.

"You think this is funny? Some kind of fucking game to you, huh? "

Haruta's laughter dies down as he meets Megumi's glare with a serious expression.

"Oh? Isn't this all just a game to you too, Megumi?" Haruta retorts, his tone biting. "Being sent out by your father, isn't that right?" The accusation hangs heavy in the air, and Megumi's silence speaks volumes.

"What the hell are you talking about?" you demand, your confusion mounting, but Haruta just smirks in response. Desperate for answers, you turn to Megumi, searching his face for any sign of explanation.

"Megumi, what the hell is he talking about?"

But he doesn't say anything he just glares at Haruta, his silence only seeming to fuel Haruta's excitement.

"That little boyfriend of yours hasn't told you, huh?" Haruta chuckles slightly, his tone dripping with malice. "Let me get it in that little pretty head of yours, sweetheart,"

Before Haruta can continue, a new figure enters the scene, his imposing presence commanding attention. He's a towering man, muscular and intimidating, clad in a tight black shirt that accentuates his physique. His dark hair falls across his face, framing sharp features, and a scar mars the right side of his lip, adding to his rugged appearance.

"That's enough," he interjects, his voice low and authoritative, cutting off Haruta mid-sentence. His arrival casts a palpable tension, his gaze flickering between you three with a silent warning.

"Ahh, Toji Zenin," Haruta acknowledges with a smirk, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. As Toji approaches, his gaze fixates on you, a silent warning in his eyes.

But before he can reach you, Haruta brings the knife dangerously close to your neck again. "Uh uh uh," he taunts, his smirk widening.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Toji walks over to Megumi, offering a brief, reassuring pat on the back before casually leaning against him, his elbow resting on Megumi's shoulder. His gaze sweeps over both of you, his expression one of nonchalant indifference, as if the entire situation bores him.

Holy shit they look so alike...

Before you can process what's happening, Toji springs into action with lightning speed. In the blink of an eye, he rushes towards Haruta, shoving him away from you with a swift, decisive motion. With effortless efficiency, Toji traps Haruta in a chokehold, his movements fluid and precise. The suddenness of it all leaves you stunned, as if time itself has slowed to a crawl.

Gasping for air, you clutch at your neck, the sensation of Haruta's grip still lingering painfully. In an instant, Megumi is by your side, pulling you into his embrace with a fierce protectiveness. His arms envelop you, offering a sense of safety and comfort amidst the chaos.

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me," Megumi's voice is gentle yet firm as he lifts your head to meet his gaze. "You're okay," he reassures you, his words a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. It's only then that you realize tears are streaming down your cheeks, your emotions finally breaking free. Megumi's touch is tender as he brushes away your tears.

Megumi's gaze meets Toji's for a fleeting moment, a silent exchange of understanding passing between them. He knows they need to leave before things escalate further. Turning his attention back to you, Megumi's voice is gentle as he suggests, "Hey, let's go back to my car, okay?" Taking your hand, he leads you away from the tense atmosphere, guiding you both towards safety. Once inside the car, a heavy silence settles between you, the echoes of the recent events still lingering in the air.

"What the hell just happened?" you break the silence, the words tumbling out in a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

Megumi's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his jaw clenched with a mixture of anger and frustration. "I don't know."

"You weren't supposed to be here. You shouldn't have been here."

"Please… tell me what's going on," you plead, your voice filled with desperation. The uncertainty weighs heavily on you, the need for answers pressing against your thoughts like a relentless tide. You search his eyes for any sign of clarity, hoping to unravel the mysteries that have unfolded before you.

Megumi's gaze softens as he meets your eyes, a mixture of guilt and determination reflected in his expression.

"It's… complicated."

"I don't fucking care how complicated it is, Megumi," you exclaim, your voice laced with anger and frustration. "After going through all of that, I need an explanation. Why the fuck were you here? Why were you with my ex? What the hell were you doing?" Each word is punctuated by the weight of your emotions, demanding clarity and understanding from the chaos that has unfolded.

"These are things you shouldn't know, Y/n. Please, just drop it." It's a plea born out of a desire to shield you from the dangers.

But despite his words, you can't shake the feeling that there's more to the story, secrets hidden beneath the surface waiting to be unearthed. And as you stare into his eyes, you can't help but wonder what else he's keeping from you, what other truths lie hidden in the depths of his silence.

"I can't do this anymore. You're just like Haruta. Lying and keeping shit hidden. What the hell, Megumi? I'm done," you declare, frustration and hurt lacing your words as you reach for the door handle, ready to walk away.

But before you can open the door, Megumi's hand lands firmly on your thigh, his grip tightening to prevent you from leaving.

"Don't compare me to that piece of shit," he interjects, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and hurt.

"Then stop acting like him!"

"Y/n, I can't just tell you this shit."

"Why? Why the hell not?" you demand, your anger boiling over.

"I told you it's fucking complicated."

"I almost got fucking killed, Megumi. Isn't that good enough to explain what the fuck happened?"

"Angel, please," Megumi implores, his voice soft with a plea.

"I thought so. Bye, Megumi."

But before you can make your exit again, his grip tightens ever so slightly. "Angel," he says again, his voice carrying a weight of uncertainty.

"If I tell you this, you'll end up hating me," he continues, his words heavy with the weight of his fears. "You'll despise me, never want to talk to me again…"

"No, that’s not true…"

"You say that now, but you don't know… you don't know what I've done," he murmurs, his voice heavy with guilt.

Your heart aches at the pain etched across his features. "Whatever it is, we can work through it together," you reply, reaching out to gently touch his hand.

"Fuck… okay," Megumi begins, his voice heavy with the weight of his confession.

"My dad… he's not a good person, not anymore at least... It started when my mom passed away, happened when was young. Losing her took a toll on him, and he… he lost himself in his grief. He didn't know how to take care of me, how to be there for me."

He pauses, his words carrying a sense of pain and regret. "To cope, he turned to gambling. It started innocently enough, but it quickly became an addiction. And when money became short, he became desperate. That's when he turned to… other things... bad things," Megumi continues, his voice strained.

"He joined the family mafia, thinking it was the easiest way to make money. But their 'missions' weren't just petty crimes. They involved… murder. Not just anyone, though. They targeted important people, threats to the family or rival mafia members." The weight of his words hangs in the air, a stark reminder of the darkness that has tainted his family's legacy.

"But even that wasn't enough," Megumi continues, his voice growing quieter, weighed down by the enormity of his words. "He kept gambling, losing all the money he would make… And knowing he wasn't doing a good job at taking care of me, he… he sold me."

"He sold me to someone who took me in... Saturo Gojo."

"Wait… Saturo Gojo, as in our professor?" you interject, shock coloring your voice. Megumi simply nods in confirmation.

"But why are you with Toji now?" you press, your confusion deepening.

"Gojo got him locked up, but a few months ago, he escaped prison… and found me, he threatened to kill me, my friends, Gojo, if I didn't listen to his orders… So out of instinct, I complied. I didn't want any of them to get hurt."

"Why the hell would someone's father threaten to kill their own son? That's beyond messed up…" you exclaim, your voice trembling with disbelief and anger.

"He would tell me to sell these drugs to the people he's targeting so I could get their numbers, meet up with them when they want more, and then he'll come and… murder them."

"Wait… so, Haruta… he's… he's one of Toji's targets?"

Megumi nods solemnly, confirming your worst fears. "Yeah… Haruta was one of his targets," he admits, his voice heavy with sorrow.

"But… why? Why is he a target?"

"He's the son of one of the highest-ranking mafia leaders… He's killed many people before, and he was a big threat to the Zenin clan," Megumi reveals, his words heavy with the weight of truth.

"He what?!" you exclaim, your voice trembling with fear. The revelation sends a shockwave of fear and disgust through you, your mind reeling at the realization that your ex-boyfriend was not only a member of a dangerous criminal organization but also a murderer.

"This would've ended months ago… but he probably figured it out,"

"What do you mean? Figured out about the Zenins' attack?"

Megumi hesitates before continuing, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. "The first time I gave him drugs, it was at a party… My d—Toji—made me give him a blunt, but… he laced it with heavier shit. Like high amounts of fentanyl. That was his first attempt to kill him, but he didn't smoke it. So I tried plan B… I made him try cocaine… He did, and he got addicted."

"Wait… so his addiction started… because of you?"

Megumi's silence speaks volumes, the weight of his guilt evident in the downturn of his expression. "Yeah… I played a part in it," he admits, his voice heavy with remorse. "I didn't know what Toji had planned at the time… but I was still responsible for giving him the drugs."

"No, no, no, no, no,"

"Megumi…" your voice breaks slightly as you struggle to convey the depth of your emotions. "Do you not see how messed up this is?"

"I know… I'm so-"

"No! You don't understand," you interrupt, your voice tinged with frustration and pain. "You're the one who gave him the drugs. The drugs he got addicted to and tried making me do. That's when he became even more emotionally abusive." Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to contain the flood of emotions threatening to consume you.

His heart shatters at your words, the weight of your pain crashing over him like a tidal wave. How could he have unknowingly contributed to the suffering you endured at the hands of your ex? The thought is like a knife to his heart, tearing him apart from the inside out.

"If I had known… If I had known you were a part of his life, I…" Megumi's voice falters, his words choked with emotion. He struggles to find the right words to express the depth of his regret, the overwhelming guilt threatening to consume him.

"I would have done things differently. I would have protected you, kept you safe from harm," he continues, his voice trembling with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted any of this to happen."

As he speaks, his words are a desperate plea for forgiveness, a fervent wish to turn back time and undo the pain he's caused. But he knows that he can never erase the past.

You step out of the car, your voice trembling with emotion, a sense of numbness washes over you. "I-I can't do this right now…" you murmur, your words barely audible.

"Y/n! Wait!" Megumi's desperate shout echoes in the air.

"Y/n…?" Megumi's voice softens as he steps out of the car, searching frantically for any sign of you. Panic sets in as he realizes you're nowhere to be seen.

i have no words.

TAGLIST <3

@lavender-hvze @xbarrjallenx @atinymonbebestay @1l-ynn @chilichopsticks @dr-fluff-meow @lost-resonance @maya-maya-56 @ichorstainedskin @luciiferslover @madaqueue @vanitywoo @hazedganyu

#fushiguro megumi x reader #smau #jjk smau #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #megumi fushiguro #megumi smau #jjk fluff #megumi fluff #fluff #angst #jjk angst #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smau #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader angst #jjk x reader fluff #jjk series #fushiguro #megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi fanfic #megumi smut #fushiguro megumi smut

[sonofatoasterwaffle]

Timber Timbre

The firework that sets him off is probably a Roman candle, and way closer than all the other ones have been, by Hen’s estimate. Eddie is on the ground before she can say anything and Hen’s blood runs a little cold at the realization of what’s happening. 

“Eddie,” she says gently. “It’s still fireworks, it’s okay.” 

Eddie is squatting low behind the kitchen island, head down, and he’s visibly shaking. He nods jerkily, but his breathing doesn’t slow at all. Hen’s heart hurts, but she’s careful not to get too close. She’s well versed in many a mental health crisis, but what to do when your friend is having combat flashbacks feels a little out of her depth. She gets low with him, keeps her tone soft and even. “How can I help, Eddie?” 

His eyes are wild when they meet hers, his hands clenching around nothing like he’s physically clinging to the present. “Can you-“ he stutters. “Where is-? I need Buck.” 

Hen is on her feet as quickly as she can without startling him. “I’ll find him, okay? You stay right here.” 

Downstairs, Buck’s holding the heavy bag for Chim, saying something that was probably meant to be encouraging but comes out more antagonistic. Their shift into being brothers has obviously been going well. They both stop in their tracks when they see the look on Hen’s face. 

“Eddie needs you.” It feels important to say it the way he did.

Another firework goes off then and Buck pales. “Oh, shit.” 

Then he’s taking the stairs two at a time with Hen and Chim not far behind. “Kitchen.” She calls after him. 

Eddie is where she left him, but now his hands are pressed against his ears. Buck squats down in front of him slowly, ducking his head so he can catch Eddie’s eye. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s me, I’m here.” He says, like it’s definitely not the first time.

He looks back and Hen and Chimney, whispers, “Can you guys sit with us a second?” 

They nod, taking their places off to the left across from them, backs against the kitchen counter. Close enough if they need help, far enough away to keep their bubble intact. Hen’s grateful for the direction, and when Bobby comes out of his office, she waves him over, finger to her lips. He doesn’t question it, just squats down on Hen’s other side. 

Eddie shudders, breathes hard out of his nose. Says, “Buck.” Real soft. 

Buck nods, scoots closer at the recognition, reaches out to run his fingertips feather-light over Eddie’s forearms. “You’re in LA, Eddie. At the 118.”

Eddie gasps like he’s just reached the surface of water. “Doesn’t- doesn’t feel like it.” 

Buck grimaces. “I know. I know, let’s go through it, okay?” 

Eddie nods, once, lets Buck take his hands and keep going. “I feel,” Buck prompts. 

Eddie closes his eyes. “Panicked.” 

Buck nods, soft look on his face like pride. It makes Hen’s eyes water. Their boy has grown up so much. 

“Because the fireworks made me think about,” 

“The chopper going down. Getting shot at while the fire was burning. Greggs.” Eddie grits out through bared teeth. 

Buck rubs his thumbs over the backs of Eddie’s hands. “But if I look around I can see,” 

Eddie forces his eyes open with what looks like immense effort, trains them on Buck for a solid ten seconds before he looks around the rest of the room. “You. The 118. Bobby. Hen. Chimney.” 

He looks at each of them in turn. Hen nods encouragingly, waves a little, which seems to increase the recognition on his face. 

Buck smiles at him. “Yeah, that’s good, real good.” 

Some of the tension seeps slowly from Eddie’s shoulders, and Buck rewards it with a squeeze of their joined hands. “Tell me what day it is.” 

Another firework goes off in the distance and Hen wants to murder someone. Bobby looks like he’d help her without a second thought. The fucking audacity to set off explosives when you live by a firehouse is astounding. 

Eddie winces but Buck stays firm with him, tapping his fingers rhythmically against Eddie’s knuckles. “What’s the date, Eds?” 

“Fourth of July.” 

“Exactly. Which means,” 

“Morons.” Eddie answers, rote, like he’s been trained. The way Buck’s handling him right now, Hen supposes he has been. 

“You got it.” He praises, pressing forward until his forehead rests against Eddie’s. “Chris was excited, though, remember?” 

“Poke cake.” Eddie responds and Bobby smiles. 

Midwestern traditions often mystify Hen, but Christopher was so excited to make that weird jello cake with Bobby and Buck that she couldn’t help but decide she loved that one. They spent all evening in Bobby and Athena’s kitchen last night, making gratuitously American dishes that should be objectively gross but that Denny and Chris were wild for. Poke cakes with red and blue jello, things being called “salad” that have never and will never be salad, and burgers that were always a welcome staple in Grant-Nash cookouts. 

Buck is tapping his fingers on Eddie’s knees now, alternating as he prods Eddie to talk him through Christopher’s latest science project. Bilateral brain stimulation, her brain provides. Works for most long-term trauma treatment but can also be helpful during flashbacks. Evan “Internet Research Extraordinaire” Buckley certainly hasn’t been a slouch in this endeavor. 

As he talks through Buck’s prompts, Eddie is slowly relaxing, sitting up on his own a bit more but shifting closer to Buck, tension slowly bleeding out of him as he points out the things he knows, the things he can see, what Bobby made for dinner, what Chimney’s favorite show is right now, what class he helped Hen run flashcards for. It makes Hen’s heart grow too big in her chest. To know that they’re a part of Eddie’s recovery, of him feeling safe. 

“Where are you, Eddie?” Buck asks again after a few minutes of this. They’re side by side now, shoulders brushing as they lean back against the island cabinets. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, sags a little against Buck. “I’m in LA. I’m at the 118 firehouse. You’re all here with me. Everyone’s safe.” 

Hen smiles encouragingly at him, Chim says, “We’re here for you, man.” 

Eddie looks away, mutters, “Esto es tan vergonzoso,” color staining his cheeks. 

“Nuh uh.” Buck answers, firm. “None of that. No tienes nada de que avergonzarte.” 

Hen knows Buck spent a while in Peru. Bartending, she thinks. She’s heard him speak Spanish to people on calls before, but his accent has historically been horrendous. It sounds like being in the Diaz orbit has been helpful for that. Hen doesn’t speak Spanish well, but she’s been in LA long enough to get the gist most of the time. 

“Sorry you guys had to see that.” Eddie apologizes anyway, ignoring Buck.

Bobby shuts that down immediately. “Everybody’s got their demons, Eddie. We’re just happy we can help with yours.” 

He tells Eddie he should take the rest of the night, even as Eddie protests that he’s fine and he doesn’t want to leave them hanging. “It’s just a few hours, Eddie. Take him home, Buck?” 

Buck nods, looking relieved that he didn’t have to ask permission. Eddie still looks a little mortified, but it’s tempered by Bobby’s careful hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“When do you think they’ll give in and just get married?” Chim asks after Buck bundles Eddie into his Jeep. 

Bobby snorts. “I’ve had the paperwork ready to go for years.”

Also on AO3

#9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #fic #i'm sorry i just can't stop thinking about Eddie relying on Buck to be a safe place for him #combat flashbacks #PTSD #oblivious idiots #i have so little patience for people who set off fireworks in their yards #also I love writing from Hen's perspective #Hen Wilson #Chimney Han #Bobby Nash #this lives in the same universe as Port in a Storm #Eddie and Buck being so close and yet still not ready to admit how they feel for each other my beloved

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Just Looking At You Got Me Thinking Nonsense

A/N: happy Day Four of @nestaarcheronweek! Sometimes, to really be a lover, you have to risk it all in a bidding war, ya know? This was a fun little fic to write, and I want to give a big ole shout-out to the Anon who sent me this prompt! I hope everyone enjoys :)

Read on AO3

Cassian digs his phone out of his back pocket, opening back up the group chat and the most recent messages still waiting there. With a nod, he pockets the phone again, rolling out his shoulders. There’s a glass case full of pictures and some sort of awards on the wall opposite him, and Cassian uses it as a makeshift mirror. He’s always had a bad habit of running his fingers through his hair when he’s nervous, and now his curls are a tangled mess as a result.

A door opening down the hall has Cassian almost jumping out of his skin. He turns just in time to see the exact woman he’s here for walking down the hall, her arm looped with a red head that Cassian is pretty sure was in his trig class last year.

“Trust me, it will be over before you know it,” the red head says as they walk.

“Until I have to sit through some stupid dinner after… You’re lucky that I love you.”

“I know, and I am lucky you’re doing this with me. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to go up there alone.”

“Hey, Nes,” Cassian calls in greeting when they’re close enough, raising his hand in a wave.

Whether she doesn’t hear him or is just ignoring him, Cassian isn’t sure. But both women don’t acknowledge him, walking through another door further down the hall. One that, he presumes, leads into the large hall.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you,” Cassian mumbles to himself, letting his hand drop back to his side. “Idiot.”

“Idiot is certainly one word I’d use to describe you.”

Azriel’s low chuckle echoes Rhys’s remark, and Cassian turns to glare at both his brothers. He knocks his shoulders against both of them, leading the way back toward the front of the building and the main doors into the hall. There’s more laughter, but at least his brothers fall into step behind him. He doesn’t have time for their teasing. Not tonight at least. This is his one chance, and he’ll be damned if he fucks it up, if he loses it. He needs to focus.

Cassian knew that Nesta Archeron was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen the first time he saw her walk into his gen-ed English lecture earlier this semester. Her blue gray eyes had been piercing beneath the lights of the lecture hall, and Cassian wanted to dive into them and drown in them right in that moment. Even more so when he watched her roll those eyes at something said at the front of the lecture hall.

Gods, he wanted to make those eyes roll.

He was sure that the Mother must be smiling down on him when Nesta had ended up in his seminar after the lecture too. It was clear that she was smart. That she had a passion for books. That she didn’t take any bullshit. He could sit and watch and listen to her in that seminar for the rest of his life and be happy. And when she absolutely eviscerated Tamlin for his “analysis” of Lolita, Cassian had been ready to drop to his knees right then and there.

It made him try harder. He made sure he actually paid attention in the lecture, made sure he did the readings, made sure he came to each and every seminar with his analysis prepared in hopes of impressing her. He wasn't sure it was working or not, but sometimes, he swore he saw her lips twitch with the barest hint of a smile, of a smirk, when he spoke. He swore that sometimes he could feel her gaze on him when he wasn't looking.

And then, one day, he’d walked into the seminar room to find the seat next to Nesta open. He’d practically stumbled over his own feet in his rush to slide into that open seat, earning an amused head shake from Kallias. Using the few minutes before the seminar started, Cassian had called her Nes and gotten a withering glare in response. He was sure the look was meant to cut him down where he sat, but it only stoked the embers in his chest into a full wildfire, only made him grin wider.

It became a game after that. Every seminar, he’d take the seat beside Nesta, and every seminar, he’d spark a back and forth between them. He cataloged every look, every response he was able to draw out of Nesta. Every eye roll. Every derisive snort. Every sarcastic quip. He got drunk off it all and kept coming back for more and more. And when he made Nesta blush, the pretty pink spreading across her cheeks, he knew that was it for him.

He spent the whole rest of the week after that trying to figure out the best way to ask Nesta out, sure that she wouldn’t appreciate being asked in front of their whole seminar group. He wondered if it would be weird to ask her to speak to him after the seminar, prayed to the Mother to take pity on him, and blessedly, take pity on him she did. It’s what led Cassian to finding out that Nesta was pledged to Mor’s sorority.

How he found out that she would be here tonight.

One of the sorority members greets Cassian and his brothers when they step through the doors to the hall, her name tag reading Deidre. She holds out three paddles, but Rhys and Azriel both wave her off, only Cassian taking one. Lucky number nineteen, just like his jersey. They settle into seats at an empty table, and then it’s just a waiting game.

It doesn’t take long before Mor is stepping out onto the stage, giving her welcoming speech as president, but any words she says fade away as soon as the women participating tonight walk onto the stage. As soon as Cassian catches sight of Nesta. Her dress is a silky, silvery blue that, along with the stage lights, brings out the blue of her eyes, and the hem is short enough to show off the stretch of her legs. She has that look on her face that’s Cassian’s favorite, and just the sight of her has his mouth going dry. She’s gorgeous.

“And next up we have Nesta Archeron.” Cassian’s attention snaps back to Mor. “She’s pre-law and minoring in English. She loves romance novels, so you better be ready to bring out all the stops if you’re the lucky one who gets to take her on a date. Now, we’ll start the bidding at–”

“One hundred dollars,” Cassian calls out before Mor can finish, jumping up to his feet and holding up his paddle.

“Mother save us,” Rhys mutters under his breath.

“Wow. That’s…” Mor clears her throat. “That’s quite generous. I guess we’ll be starting the bidding at one hundred.”

“One fifty.”

Anger flares low in Cassian’s gut at the second bid, and it burns even brighter when he turns his head and finds the owner of the voice. Eris Vanserra. Cassian has hated the man ever since he had the misfortune of sharing a class with him freshman year. Ever since he watched him stroll into a college class wearing designer clothes and look down on everyone. He’s pompous, pretentious, and has a face practically asking for Cassian to punch.

And punching Eris’s snooty face is definitely something Cassian’s fist itches to do right now.

“Two hundred,” Cassian declares, turning back toward the stage.

“Two fifty,” Eris echoes.

“Two seventy five.”

“Three hundred.”

“Holy shit,” Mor mutters before seemingly remembering that she has a microphone in her hands. “I mean wow. That’s officially our highest bid. Ever. Do we have a response?”

“Five. Hundred.”

Gasps and murmurs of surprise sweep through the room at Cassian’s announcement. He glances toward where Nesta still stands on stage, her eyes wide and pink settled high on her cheeks. But those wide eyes are pinned on him, not Eris, not Mor, and her attention has his heart stuttering between his ribs, has it tugging toward the stage as though she holds the thread so firmly wrapped around it.

He dares to toss Nesta a wink before turning to smirk at Eris, but Vanserra is still lounging casually in his seat with a sort of cool arrogance that ice starts to prickle beneath Cassian’s skin.

“Five fifty,” Eris declares, eyes cutting toward Cassian with a smirk of his own.

“Fucking prick,” Cassian mutters under his breath before he leans down to speak to Rhys. “Okay, I’m going to need to borrow more than what we originally agreed to.”

Rhys sighs, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Seriously, Cass? This is getting a little absurd for a single date.”

“She’s worth it.”

“Is she? You know, I’ve heard stories, and–”

“Fuck you,” Cassian growls, turning back toward the stage before he runs out of time. “Five seventy five!”

“He’s clearly dedicated. You’ve got to give him that,” Azriel mutters with a low chuckle.

“You know Vanserra’s not going to stop, right?” Rhys adds, his tone almost bored.

As if in answer, Eris’s voice rings out again. “Six hundred.”

“Seven hundred,” Cassian calls out quickly before dropping his voice again. “If you’re so worried about your rich boy checkbook, then do something about it.”

“What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Seven fifty,” Eris’s voice drowns out Rhys’s question.

“Alright,” Azriel sighs, pushing up to his feet. “This is just sad to watch now.”

Cassian sighs as his brother walks away, knocking his fist against the table in frustration. “Eight fifty!”

He waits for Eris’s answering bid, but there’s only silence ringing out in the hall. Cassian’s brow pinches in confusion, and he snaps his attention back toward Eris’s table. The man in question is on his feet, standing toe to toe with Azriel. There’s a suspicious looking stain across Eris’s shirt, and his lips are pulled back in a sneer.

Whatever lashing Eris is giving for his now ruined designer shirt, Azriel takes it unfazed. He merely reaches for a napkin, the movement nothing short of sensual as he wipes it against Eris’s shirt, against his chest and down his stomach. Even from across the room Cassian can see the way Eris’s face has turned a color to match his face.

With Eris thoroughly distracted, Cassian looks back toward the stage, raising his eyebrows pointedly at Mor.

“Oh! Right,” Mor speaks into the microphone. “We have eight fifty. Do we have higher than eight fifty?” Cassian motions with his hand to hurry up. “Eight fifty going once. Going twice. Sold for eight fifty.”

Cassian falls back into his seat with a relieved sigh, unable to bite back the wide grin that pulls across his face. He did it, he was the highest bid. He gets to see Nesta outside of their lecture, outside of their seminar. He gets to spend time with her one on one and to find out what really makes her tick.

He gets to take Nesta Archeron on a date.

He’s practically bouncing on his feet waiting for the rest of the women to have their bidding, for the evening to come to a close. He all but jumps back up to his feet, plucking the check from between Rhys’s fingers. The look on Mor’s face is all too knowing when he hands over the money, but even that doesn’t deter him.

He gets to take Nesta Archeron on a date.

“Eight hundred fifty dollars, huh?”

Cassian spins around to come face to face with the exact woman in question, her arms crossed and her expression unimpressed. But Cassian has learned a lot sitting next to Nesta this semester, and he recognizes the light sparking in her blue eyes, the slight pinch at the corner of her lips. Try as she might, she can’t hide her amusement from him.

“What can I say, sweetheart?” Cassian drawls, grin still wide. “I’m quite dedicated to getting what I want.”

“Oh? Is that why you pulled that stunt with Eris?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. That was merely Azriel flirting.”

Nesta laughs, and it’s already Cassian’s favorite sound, a sound he wants to draw out of her again and again. “He flirts by spilling drinks on people?”

“Everyone has their own version of flirting. Look at us, with our back and forth.”

That comment does earn him an eye roll, Cassian’s blood singing and his heart soaring at the reaction. He dares to step even closer to Nesta, until he has to tip his chin down to keep smirking at her. Dares to reach up between them for a stray strand of Nesta’s hair and tug on it teasingly. Dares to tease the backs of his fingers along her now pinkening cheeks.

“You might actually be crazy, you know.”

“Only because you make me that way, Nes.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies

#nestaweek2024 #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #my fic

[dangerpronebuddie]

Hiiiiiii Maggie!! Sending you the first of many kiss prompts. I’m not sure which you’ve already done so just lmk if you want me to send you the next one haha

FIRST requesting number 72 please 💗💗💗

Hi Bazza💕💕💕

I hope this is along the lines of what you had in mind 🥰

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night 31/?

72. Accidentally bumping noses

Summary:

Eddie leans away and pulls his shirt over his head. He barely has his head free before Buck's diving back in for a kiss.

Only they both tilted the same way, bumping their noses together.

Eddie breaks into a fit of giggles, bright and bubbly and so beautiful. Buck can't help but laugh with him.

(read below!)

“Off,” Buck mutters against Eddie's lips, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Buck had his shirt off before they even got down the hall. Eddie needed to catch up.

They only have an hour to themselves, maybe. Chris is getting a ride home with a friend who's going to stay for the entire weekend. Buck wants as much alone time with Eddie he can get before then.

Eddie chuckles and cups Buck’s face in his hands. “You're insatiable.” He guides Buck into their bedroom and kicks the door closed, kissing him with slow, aching tenderness. Buck melts against him, basking in the moment of unhurried softness as long as he dares.

Eddie ducks to kiss the hinge of his jaw.

“Okay, now you're just procrastinating.” Buck tugs at the shirt again.

Eddie leans away and pulls his shirt over his head. He barely has his head free before Buck's diving back in for a kiss.

Only they both tilted the same way, bumping their noses together.

Eddie breaks into a fit of giggles, bright and bubbly and so beautiful. Buck can't help but laugh with him.

He winds his arms around Eddie's waist, his heart fluttering with how full of love he feels. He never in a million years thought he'd get to have this. Married to his best friend, able to laugh during the most absurd moments, completely comfortable and completely loved.

Eddie leans in again in an attempt to get them back on track. Buck, never missing an opportunity to mess with him, bumps his nose against Eddie's again, setting the giggles off once more.

Eddie calms down quickly, like he's in just as much of a rush as Buck. “Are you actually going to let me kiss you or are you just going to-”

Buck cuts him off with a hungry kiss Eddie smiles into.

An hour later, just before Chris and his friend arrive, Buck pulls Eddie in for a soft kiss. Only Eddie bumps their noses together with a wide grin.

“I love you,” Buck says with a fond chuckle.

“To the core,” Eddie says before actually kissing him.

#911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 abc #9-1-1 #fanfic #my writing #buddie fic #911 fic #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #Kiss Me Once #bazza 😻

[sailorshadzter]

Fic prompt: Jon teaches Sansa archery after feeling jealous when he saw Theon and Sansa practicing together

hi anon! ty!!

send me prompts

On the battlements he stands, watching over the courtyard that is a flurry of activity, as it always seems to be these days.  There is never a dull moment there in Winterfell as they make what surely will be their final preparations for the battle that was to come. The threat of death looms overhead and there isn’t a single person among them that does not fear what could be in the coming days.

His attention, however, does not last long on the dutiful men as they work to ensure preparations are complete. Instead, his gaze sweeps across the way, to the most northern corner of the courtyard, to where he catches sight of the red hair he would know anywhere. He is surprised to see her there, a bow in hand, her ivory features pinched with a frown. Before he can blink, there appears another and at once there is a beast called jealousy roaring in his chest. 

He watches as Theon steps around her, carefully positioning her hands as they should be, helping her to draw back the bow string and holding the arrow straight. He watches as she bites her lip in concentration, as she furrows her brow, as Theon must say something encouraging for she’s smiling ever so slightly- then she’s releasing the arrow and it misses the mark by a mile. She looks discouraged but Theon is touching her shoulder and she’s smiling once more, turning to watch him go to retrieve another. They’re back at it then, his hands over hers, so close he surely must feel the warmth of her skin between the layers of the wool they both wear- again, the beast in his chest roars. 

“My lord?”

He turns at the sound of the voice, drawing him out of his head and back into reality- if just for now. 

[ x x x ]

He catches her as she’s descending the stairs and her smile is dazzling, even so early in the morning. “Off to practice archery, are you?” He questions and her cheeks stain crimson, her footsteps slowing to a stop. 

“You saw?” She asks softly, staring at the floor like a child caught misbehaving. 

Jon cannot help but to laugh at her expense, which draws her eyes back up to his face. “Aye, I saw,” he says, reaching out to gently tug on a lock of her red hair. “I thought I might help you today,” he continues, his hand falling away from her, but his fingers long to feel her hair, her skin, her, once more. Her blue eyes widen with surprise but she’s grinning, nodding, a new pep to her demeanor that wasn’t there even just a moment ago. “You needn’t learn this you know,” he says as they walk out the double doors and into the crisp, morning air. 

“I know,” she says softly, the look on her face telling him everything he needed to know. She wasn’t doing this for herself, she was doing it for her people, for her home. Just in case… Just in case she needed to protect someone, she might just be able to do so. Jon wonders if there’s any other lady or lord in the world that would do such a thing. 

“Like this,” he’s saying now, helping her to hold the bow as she needs to, carefully placing the arrow to the string. “Square your feet now.” She adjusts her pose and suddenly, it feels far more natural than it had the day before. Jon’s hands are warm over her own as he adjusts her ever so slightly, pulling back the string just an inch more. “Perfect,” his breath is warm against the back of her neck, so close they are now. “Let go…!” She does and the arrow flies, not striking the center, but striking the board all the same. “There you go!” He shouts happily and she’s laughing, dancing around him as he reaches for another arrow. “Again,” he says and she falls back into position, smiling to herself when he presses himself against her once more. 

The next arrow strikes even closer and she’s the one to let out a cheer, red hair swinging as she turns to face him. “You are quite the teacher,” she compliments as they take up their pose yet again. 

Jon laughs, soft and slow against the shell of her ear. “You are a natural,” he insists as she narrows her eyes, focusing on her target. She’s caught up in her own mind now, not listening to him at all, so he steps away, watching as she is the one who holds the bow, holds the arrow. And then she is the one to let it fly, shooting across the way to strike the dead center of the target. 

She lets out a cheer and turns back to him, throwing her arms around him, laughing, sinking into the warmth of his arms. “You are a good teacher,” she reminds when he holds her at arm's length, gray eyes meeting blue. He opens his mouth, thinking he might argue, but the beast in his chest is purring and he knows it isn’t worth it. Seeing her smile was more than enough, in truth. 

These moments were enough.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #my writing #i wrote this #anon asks #writing prompts

[formula1fanfiction]

Arthur Leclerc / Logan Sargeant

Title: I never said, I didn't like it

Pairing: Arthur Leclerc / Logan Sargeant

Characters: Arthur Leclerc, Logan Sargeant, Alex Albon, George Russell

Prompt: Can we have some Logan x Arthur smut with them bottoming for each other

Logan is practically pulling Arthur into the elevator, it's not often they get to spend time together anymore, so he's not about to waste a single second of time.

Arthur lets his head fall back, with a groan exposing his neck. "Why is Williams on the top floor?" Logan ignores him and sucks a small bite onto the Monegasque's neck, leaving a red hickey behind. Arthur has never been good at keeping quiet and yelps in response. "Ouch."

"Shut up." Logan shuts him up by quickly turning him around and smashing their mouths together, in a deep passionate kiss. The elevator dings and the two jump apart quickly, luckily it's Alex and George who walk in.

"What are you doing here?" Logan asks Alex, George stays quiet in the corner. Alex smirks, taking in the bite on Arthur's neck. "looks like the same thing as you two."

It's almost a relief when the elevator dings again. "Don't fuck him too hard, he has a car to sit in tomorrow." Alex informs Arthur as he steps out the elevator. "I could say the same to you about George." Logan thinks he's being cocky but Alex smirk grows even wider. "I'm going to fuck him so hard, that i'll ruin his race." He hears a small Hey, from George as the elevator door slides closed.

"Your teammate is very funny." Arthur laughs, Logan wants to kill Alex right now, how embarrassing. All thoughts of embarrassment soon turn into arousal as they finally reach the top floor.

Logan barely has time to pull out his key card when Arthur presses himself against Logan's back, pressing his errection against Logan's ass. "You have such a fuckable ass." Logan only just manages to get the door open and falls through it, Arthur and his fucking mouth.

“I've decided I want to get fucked tonight” Arthur informs him, leaving him feel very confused, Arthur usually bottoms anyway. "Right, good to know." Arthur laughs. "No, you don't understand." Logan really doesn't understand, is this some sort of language thing?" “I'll let you fuck me for a little while then i'll cum in your tight ass”

"But, you said you had already lubed yourself up, why do I need to bottom as well?" Arthur takes out his lube and smiles. "Because you are a bottom too, I am bottom but I want to come in your arse."

Logan is convinced Arthur has left his brain at home at this point, but it has been a while since Logan bottoms and it is something he enjoys, so he agrees. "Okay, you need to get me ready then."

The two of them break away from each other for a couple of seconds and start to rip of their clothing. A mess of jackets, shirts, trousers, socks and shoes creates a rather large pile in the middle of the floor. Arthur finishes first retrieves the bottle of lube, he left on the floor.

Arthur pours a rather generous amount onto his fingers. “Hands and knees on the bed” Arthur says the words softly and he doesn't need to be told twice. He climbs up and pushes his ass high in the air. Arthur climbs up after him and kneels down behind him. "Go easy please, it's been a while."

"I would never hurt you, Chéri" Arthur circles his entrance a couple of times, just massaging the area around it then pushes in the first finger to the knuckle. Logan let out at a soft “Ahh” It's been too long, it feels amazing. Arthur starts to push the finger in and out of him. It's been so long Logan feels so tight around the digit, soon enough he opens up enough for Arthur to slide in a second finger, he scissors and twists the two of them and starts to thrust with the two of them. Eventually Arthur works his way up to four fingers, only then does he judge Logan open enough and let his fingers slip out of him.

"Am I going first?" Logan asks, still somewhat confused by Arthur's plan. "yes." Arthur snaps. "I told you, I want to come inside of your ass." Logan. "You're acting so odd tonight, man."  Arthur laughs. "I missed you and i'm horny, alright?"

"Hands and knees, Mr Leclerc." Arthur's smirk grows even weirder as he does as he's told, pushing his glorious ass high into the air. Logan doesn't waste any more time, he presses his cock against that beautiful hole and sinks inside, the slide is easy thanks to the great work of Arthur's fingers and he had reached the hilt in a matter of seconds.

"Do you need time to adjust?" Logan asks, forcing himself to keep still, squeezing down on Arthur's hips. "I don't need any time, I finger myself often, thinking about you." That thought alone makes Logan want to come on the spot. "Fuck."

Logan starts to move, starting off slowly but quickly making his way to harder, rougher thrusts, mostly due to the protests from Arthur. "I missed you, so much." Logan takes Arthur's hips into his hands and sinks deeper with every thrust. "Harder Logie, come on." Logan sighs, but does as he's told fucking into Arthur with all his might. "Yes, yes, yes, you're so good." Arthur groans, pushing back his hips until Logan smashing into his prostate with every thrust.

"Stop, fucking stop." Arthur groans, Logan stops instantly feeling a little worried. "I nearly came, I want to come inside of you." Arthur giggles, pulling forward, letting Logan's cock slip out of him.

"Now it's your turn, baby." Logan takes Arthur's position on his hands and knees, he feels the bed dip behind him. "Fuck." Logan groans, being caught off guard as Arthur sinks inside of him with no warning. "You are so tight, Logie."

"It has been a while." Logan clenches and unclenches around Arthur's cock, it doesn't hurt or anything he just feels really full. "Are you ready?" Logan nods. Arthur pulls all the way out and slams back inside of him, repeating the motion three times then settling into a rough pace.

Logan just can't help the loud embarrassing moans falling from his lips, he's so glad Alex went to George's room, so he doesn't have to explain himself tomorrow. Arthur is just so damn good, he needs to bottom more often.

Arthur thrusts into him so hard, that the only sound in the room matching Logan's moans is the sound of skin slapping against skin. "Does it feel good, baby?" Arthur giggles, purposely missing Logan's prostate. "Please, please, Arthur."

Eventually after what feels like hours of torture, Arthur angles his thrusts just right and slams into Logan's prostate with all his might. It's been so long, it feels so fucking good, there is no chance Logan can last, with one more thrust onto his prostate Logan comes, completely untouched spilling onto the sheets below him.  

"Such a slut, I didn't even touch you." Arthur giggles, if he wasn't still hazy from his orgasm, he'd slap Arthur. Instead he clenches down as tightly as he can, almost instantly squeezing the orgasm out of Arthur, with one more hard thrust he feels the warmth of Arthur's come filling him up.

"So did you enjoy bottoming?" Arthur pulls out and collapses against the bed, taking Logan into his arms. "I never said I didn't, you just said you preferred bottoming." Arthur nods.

"Good, I want you to bottom more often, I have some exciting plans."  At this point, Logan has no idea if he should be excited or scared, he's certainly intrigued to see what Arthur has planned.  

#arthur leclerc #logan sargeant #formula 1 fanfiction #fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #mxm #fanfiction #formula 1 #formula one #mxm smut #george russell #alexander albon

[peanutbutterand]

i miss you, i'm sorry; lmh

 in which alcohol and a broken heart prompts you to make a phone call to your ex.

~ Angst with a capital A. 

wc: 1.6K

Reference(s): “I miss you, I’m sorry” written by Grace Abrahams and a line from Notting Hill directed by Roger Michell

~

“I miss you”

The flashing lights seemed to somehow mute the chaotic noise around you. Head hurting, mind overwhelmed, and still, your fingers unconsciously danced across the screen of your phone, typing a number you had deleted months ago.

Some things don’t stay the way they're supposed to. Out of sight, out of mind right? Funny how all logic and rational thinking is suddenly muddled by the denial of a broken heart. 

“y/n.”

If it weren’t for the alcohol in your system, you’d cry at the sound of his voice. Instead, the concern in his tone forced a bittersweet smile to form on your face.

He shouldn’t be worried, he shouldn’t have even answered. But he did. And you hated that you knew he would. Because even in your drunken state, it was so natural for you to go back to him. 

“You promised.” 

You felt pathetic. Clinging onto his promises of forever, even when you fought his declarations towards the end of your relationship. The need to be right overpowering the need to be loved.

It was careless, taking everything you loved and disputing it with cruel words driven by a fixed mindset. And he did the same. Hurt people hurt people, because no one wants to be hurting alone. 

You did your best to move on. You really did. It was easy at first, fueled by anger and pinpointing all the blame of your failing relationship on him was something you did with your head held high. 

And then all of a sudden, your pride became too hard to swallow and all the hate you spewed ricocheted in the forms of longing and regret. 

You often found yourself reminiscing about fights in his apartment and the disappointment that came with broken dishes, just to get a glimpse of him.

Because he was always readily available in your mind, whether it be in the form of heartbreak or not. And the extent to which you would willingly fall back into these moments only resulted in any progress of moving on to slip through your fingers.

“y/n, where are you?”

How do you move on from someone who is so deeply engraved into your mind, someone who has touched every part of you with sweet kisses and gentle hands, someone who starts your thoughts and always ends them.

For these reasons, your doubts and hesitations were not baseless. Because how do you move on from someone you once promised forever to? It almost seems wrong to do so. 

“I don’t know what to do Minho. Everywhere I go leads me back to you. Everything I know brings me back to us.” 

There was so much to say, so much you wanted to tell him. It was desperate and embarrassing, but others might say you were simply in love; that you were just a girl, talking to a boy, asking him to love her. 

“Y/n, please….go home.”

“I can’t.”

“Y/n–”

“Every corner of that fucking house is haunted Minho.” 

It was suffocating. Home was no longer home but a place filled with traces of his presence. Bittersweet reminders of the life that once flourished remained in every room.

His coffee cup in the cupboard, his hoodie tucked away in your drawer, the silly love notes he left embedded into your books, his morning kisses, his laughter, his smile, him. 

He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Even in his absence, he was consuming you. So no, you wouldn’t go home, you couldn’t. Because the definition between home and Minho seemed to blur overtime. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore."

The drunken daze was now fading away, your clouded mind becoming overwhelmed with the sober emotions that flowed through your body, because they were one in the same when you were drunk, just easier to handle in a state of intoxication. 

“I thought you hated me.”

Such a statement was not meant to be laced with the gentleness he evoked, so much so, a certain heaviness clung to your chest. For the reminder of the three words you spewed at him the last time you spoke will forever bring feelings of angst and regret. 

“Minho…”

Some things are better left unsaid. Until the time comes when those things are all you can think about, clouding your judgement and cultivating a narrative of missed opportunities guided by the words “what if”.

You had many. And they creeped up on you, leaving you lost in your thoughts of love that you’ll never be able to live, at least, not with him.

But not was not the time to wallow in your self pity and despair. Not after all the time you had dedicated to pondering over the “what ifs” and certainly not when the person these “what ifs” revolved around was here, listening to you. 

“I was angry and upset and desperate to hurt you. I don’t hate you—I never could. I’m sorry.”

The slow sigh that ran after your words displayed your relief more than you intended. Thinking back to the last time you spoke to him was routine for you.

But this time, instead of being tormented by the hurt laced in the memory of that night, you were now comforted by the fact that your truth was now something he knew.

And you weren’t going to deprive yourself of his, no matter how much it may break you. You were in too deep to consider that now. 

“Do I still make you sick to your stomach?” 

It was his turn to let out an audible sigh. And it seems as though you weren’t the only one reminiscing back to that night; for his response appeared to be nurtured with time and consideration.

“No y/n, you never did. You never will. I didn't mean that. I wish I had ever said those words to you, but I did. I’m sorry.”

It’s one thing to say something. It’s another to mean it. And it felt nice to hear he didn’t. You knew he could never have meant it, but the assurance you experienced upon his confession pulled apart the remaining angst embedded in your memories. You could only hope he felt the same.

It was cold outside. Somehow, your feet carried you out of the stuffy place, the moon illuminating the still street, a complete contradiction to your surroundings a few seconds ago. 

The silence seemed to emphasize your acknowledgement of everything that had happened and was happening. The phone pressed to your ear. The quick beating in your chest. The familiarity of the slow breaths he took as you listened. Your boldness. His patience. 

“I’m sorry I called. I know we said we weren’t talking—”

“I miss you too.”

You almost didn’t catch it. His voice low and quiet, almost as if the statement was a passing thought that had slipped past his tongue. But you caught it, as did your denial, that after all this time, he too missed what once was.

A part of you wished your ears had been deaf to his words. Because the way your hand fell to your chest, the way it felt as though your heart had paused, the way tears immediately lined your waterline, was the same way you recognized exactly how much you missed him.

One step forward and three steps back is the damage his words did. But you started it first, and it was only fair to finish what you started. 

An absent smile lined your lips with tears falling down your face. Your tears were warm against your cold skin and you so badly wanted the warmth to stay.  

“Everything we were scared of happening, happened Minho.”

“Nothing happened in the way we wanted Y/n.”

Your absent smile turned bittersweet, fingers gently grazing your cheek in an attempt to catch the warmth from your eyes. You were right. And he was too. They say that nothing that is meant for you will ever get away, so why did he?

“Is this better for us y/n?”

It’s hard to make peace with something you don't entirely agree with. He hurt you more than anyone else has. But he loved you better than anyone ever did. 

“I don't know. I’m still confused.” 

Your eyes shut, squeezing what was left of your tears out. 

“I do know that I was really happy with you, we were happy together. And we were really good to each other.”

You went into this conversation with hope and uncertainty. It was only normal for that hope and uncertainty to cultivate into doubts and hesitation. He didn’t deserve that. And you didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. Not now. Not ever. 

“But….”

“But we’ve been here before. And I want to love you because I love you, not because I need you— I missed you Minho…..I miss you. I’m sorry.” 

And in an instant, no sound came from his phone. Your voice, gone, as if it were never there.

Gone before he could familiarize himself with the highs and lows of your tone. Gone before he could tell you to not cry, for he recognized the tell tale signs that you were. Gone before he could say everything he wanted to say and more. 

And perhaps that's why he continued to hold the phone to his ear, head falling to the back of his couch as he allowed the words he meant to say to you, the second your name appeared on his phone, break free from his lips.

Barely a mumble, but with his whole heart and all his truth. 

“I still love you, I promise.”

#lee know #lee minho #lee know x reader #stray #straykids x reader #straykids #straykidsangst #stray kids angst #angst #skz imagine #skz imagines #hyunjin x reader #skz #skz scenarios #stray kids #bangchan x reader #hwang hyujin imagines #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin #minho x reader #minho #skz minho

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 11/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 12

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

Lilith: Sign the papers, Lucifer.

Lucifer: Wha- Why?

Lilith: I don't think- This needs to end now. We both knew it won't last for all eternity.

Lucifer: Lily?

Lilith: I'm leaving.

Lucifer: Lilith, please! Talk to me! At least tell me why! How about Charlie! Our daughter, Lily!

Lilith: It’s just better this way. Believe me. You’ll understand someday. And she will too.

Lucifer: Is this because you’re afraid I'll overshadow and control you? That I'll hurt you like Adam did? Because I won’t. Lilith, please. I love you so much. I can step down! You can be the sole ruler of hell is that's what you want. Please.

Lilith: Stop this, Lucifer. Don’t make this harder than it is.

Lucifer: I.....can’t stop you, can't I?

Lilith: No.

Lucifer: I guess you’re the one doing the hurting this time. Is that what you’ve wanted all along?

Lilith doesn’t respond. She leaves. 

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

Lucifer awakens to the scent of Marigolds and the sound of strangled crying. He's vaguely aware of the weight of his body being cradled by someone, their tears falling onto his still form.

With a lot of effort on his part, he commands his vision to clear and the ringing in his ears to subside. Gradually, his surroundings comes into focus, revealing Charlie to be the one holding him, her face contorted with anguish that should never be present on his little girl's face.

'Who did that? Who made my Charlie cry?'

Her words tumble out in a frantic stream, but Lucifer struggles to respond, his voice caught in his throat. It dawns on him that Charlie isn't aware of his consciousness, her attention absorbed by her own distress.

Squinting against the haze of confusion, he realizes she's speaking to someone else entirely.

Charlie: A-angel hurry, please! I don't know what just happened. You're the number I- and I'm sorry please help me!

Lucifer can't hear what Angel was saying on the other end but they're muffled. Each unintelligible word seems to only worsen his daughter's tears, and oh, how he longs to comfort her.

Helplessness washes over him as he wishes to move, to reach out and wipe away his most precious' tears.

'That's what a good dad should do, right? Yeah. Yeah. It's kinda funny how Charlie is the one craddling me right now. I miss her baby days.'

He must have chuckled because Charlie whips her head down to him.

Charlie: Dad! You're awake! Thank you. You're okay, dad, don't worry. I- Angel, he's awake! I don't know! I just found him, oh god, Angel- I thought he-he-

There's frantic voices on the other line, the residents are all probably huddled in the phone attempting to calm Charlie down. Lucifer didn't get to hear what the overlapping voices were saying when the sanctuary's doors fly open revealing the radio demon.

Suddenly, the sanctuary's doors burst open, revealing Alastor. With a keen eye, he spots Lucifer and Charlie, and wasting no time before teleporting to their side in a blink, concern evident as he checks on them both.

Charlie: A-Al, thank god you're here. I- I

Alastor: My dear, you must calm yourself. Breathe.

Charlie: I can't!

Alastor: Yes you can. Count from a hundred backwards.

Charlie: 100, 99, 98.....80... I ca-can't please-

Charlie freezes as a gentle hand touches her cheek, prompting her to lower her gaze. With deliberate tenderness, he reaches for her hand, guiding it to his chest, positioning it over his heart. A silent reassurance pulses beneath her touch, the steady, calming rhythm of her father's heart.

Lucifer: I'm okay, duckie. Feel it. I'm okay. I'm breathing. I'm alive.

Charlie: D-dad.

Alastor: Match his breathing, dear.

After a minute, Charlie managed to calm down enough to form coherent sentences. She reiterates what she walked in on earlier and Lucifer is horrified. His daughter shouldn't have seen that but he's also berating himself. He knew that he shouldn't have told Keekee that Charlie could come. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID-

A snap of a finger stops the start of another spiral.

Alastor: None of that. We will have a talk about this but first, let us go back to the hotel for now. It must be uncomfortable laying on a frozen floor, no?

The King of Hell wants to say something but he knows there's no arguing with a fretting Alastor. Charlie is already outside on the phone again, most likely talking to whoever was at the hotel or maybe the Sins. He's hoping she doesn't call them right away; they're bigger worrywarts than him.

Charlie: -no no. He's fine now We're going to take him back to the hotel. Yes. Yes. Of course. Maybe in a few hours? Yes, I'll call you after we check him over. Yes. Thank you, Aunt Bel.

He yelps in surprise as the radio demon picks him up and holds him bridal style.

Lucifer: What the hell you doing??

Alastor: Why, carrying you, my love!

Lucifer: I can walk just fine.

Alastor raised an eyebrow at this then promptly dropped him.

Lucifer: Ow! What the fuck?!

Alastor: That does not look like standing. Perhaps it's opposite day today?

Lucifer all but growls but knows he's got him there. With a groan, he relents, deciding that he's going to be complain all the way back if he can help it.

Lucifer: Fine.

Alastor: What was that~?

Lucifer: I said fine! Carry me you tacky piece of shit!

He's pouting but he doesn't care. He's the King of Hell for Father's sake! Why is he letting this man bully him??

Alastor only smiles as he picked him up again. At least someone is enjoying this humiliation.

The way Alastor is holding him is doing something to him and had Alastor always been this handsome??

They meet Charlie outside already with one of their limousines. Thankfully, no reporters are camping anymore around the palace or this will be another big scandal that will most likely damage his image. Not that he cares what people in Hell think of him but whatever they they perceive him as extends to Charlie and he's not going to give them any ammunition on her.

Charlie: You sure you're alright, Dad?

Lucifer: Yes, sweetheart. I just want to be in a bed right now.

Alastor: I could always teleport you there, my dear. Would be faster than this death contraption.

Lucifer: I will throw up on you.

Alastor's eye twitches but doesn't say anything back. They sit in semi-comfortable silence the rest of the ride.

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

Alastor: Charlie, why don't you talk to the others and your uncles and aunts about your father's condition? I'll take his majesty up in his room. I'm sure the last thing he needs is to be bombarded with questions at this time.

Charlie: You're right. Thanks, Al.

Charlie squeezed Lucifer's hand in a silent reassurance.

Charlie: I'll follow you later, Dad. Love you.

Oh, how he loves her so.

Lucifer: Okay, duckie.

He almost threw up when Alastor teleported them up to his tower but before he could, the sinner put up a lemon tea up on his face. Muttering a small thanks, the King of Hell took a few sips before deciding to lay down.

Alastor is still not interrogating him but maybe the other can smell his exhaustion. No. The guy did not talk at all. He only moved to sit by his side, leaning back to the headrest. Lucifer takes this as an invitation to hug the other's waist like a bolster and snuggles closer. The Sin of Pride feels his partner's hand combing through his hair and humming an old tune.

He's afraid of seeing Roo again as he tightens his hold on Alastor. The other doesn't even flinch and Lucifer is glad. Alastor usually doesn't like touch so whenever the other allows it, Lucifer savors every second.

Lucifer: I won't blame you, you know?

Alastor: Hmm?

Lucifer: If it's too much. If you wanna leave, you can.

The hand in his hair stops moving but Alastor still said nothing.

Lucifer: I'll remember you though.

Sleep is calling him. He only wishes that he'll dream of nothing this time.

Lucifer: I remember everyone that leaves.

He passes out not hearing Alastor reply, words laced with a genuinity no one else had the privilege to hear.

Alastor: I can assure you, my king, I am not one to give up what I adore that easily.

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

I adore that Lilo and Stitch line. It really struck me when I first watched it.

YT also played this Hour of Joy VHS tape and that background tune really gave me inspiration on some future scenes. So, stay tuned.

#hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin lilith #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin cherri bomb #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin niffty #hazbin emily #hazbin sera #hazbin michael #hazbin adam #hazbin lute #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel cherri bomb #hazbin hotel sir pentious #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin hotel sera #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel adam

[starpirateee]

could you write a fic where curt gets captured and owen goes absolutely feral trying to get him back? i need angst :D

I will absolutely write that, I think both of us need Owen to go a little apeshit for a while 👀 remember the movie Taken? "I will hunt you down. And I will kill you." ?? Yeah...

Oh yeah, and I 100% used the same case that was referenced in the panic attack prompt because I fell short of ideas, so essentially I'm creating one large cinematic universe worth of ficlets (/j) and this is set about five months before that panic attack

Cynthia Houston called. Cynthia Houston— head supervisor of the American Secret Service— had personally called Owen Carvour— very much not American operative of the British Military Intelligence— with three words on her mind that changed the state of his mental state immediately.

Curt's been compromised.

That was all she'd said before Owen's heart started pounding in his ears.

"What do you mean, he's compromised?" Owen had asked, but he knew. There were a limited number of ways that this could go. One of them compromised him too, and forced his hand. He wasn't so afraid of that option anymore. He'd spent that long preparing for it that he knew the exact reaction to it, and exactly what he was supposed to do.

The other one was dangerous, and meant that Curt's life was in jeopardy. That wouldn't be a matter of concern for another agency under any other circumstance, but Cynthia was able to pull strings, to get him involved in matters that he had no right to even know about. If she wanted him for a particular mission, then there was a very good chance that he was going to be on that mission.

He braced himself subtly, waiting for Cynthia to tell him to start making preparations to run for a long time, or for her to tell him where she needed him in the next few hours.

"Captured. For once, he didn't expose himself, but all the same, he got caught… I think you might be familiar with the case load?"

Owen's jaw clenched tight. Part of him was relieved, but this was the dangerous option, and that meant he didn't have the space to be relieved. "Tell me."

"There's a group of arms dealers led by a man they call Jenner, you know him?"

"Yes. Yes, I know of him and his little organisation. Do you have anything on where he's based?" He knew that Cynthia had more sense than to tell him information like that over a telephone line, but he also knew that he didn't care when he got the information, so long as he got it. It was more than clear that she wanted him on the ground to help them find him, or bring him back, so he knew he was going to get what he needed at some point. She'd likely pass him off to someone else with the intel, and he'd have to fill in the gaps from whichever debrief he was given.

"Always so efficient… you know I'm not gonna tell you that. Not here."

"I thought as much."

"But, make it to Manhattan, Agent, and there will be someone dockside to meet you… Say, tomorrow morning?"

Owen wrote that down on the notepad next to the phone. Tomorrow morning. January 7th. He was expected at the Manhattan harbour, presumably by someone who was supposed to blend in with the crowd. "Tomorrow morning. I'll be there."

Cynthia sighed, then. Owen had a one track mind, it was notoriously hard to pull from focus. Knowing him, he wouldn't stop until Curt was on safe ground once again, no matter how long he worked or what it took out of him. That likely included whatever journey was going to happen that night. He knew about the stakes now, there was truly going to be no stopping him. "Oh, and Owen?"

Owen stopped, briefly taken off guard by hearing Cynthia call him by anything other than a formal title. Of course, she knew his name, she just never used it. What was with the sudden drop in formality? Was this her way of going off the record? If it was, what the hell else should he be expecting out of this mission?

"… Yes?"

"We need you at your best. And I know you have a tendency to… Overthink. Take it as easy as you can tonight… We need you prepared for tomorrow… Curt has a habit of being fine. You know that as well as I do."

"Michael Jenner is a dangerous man, Miss Houston. There's no telling what he could do in an hour, let alone overnight!"

"I'm not telling you not to think about it, I'm just saying, we're gathering intel as we speak, so… Try not to do anything stupid before you get here."

"I understand…" He resigned, drawing in a breath. "Tomorrow, then."

Needless to say, with the stress of everything currently piled in his mind, and the long journey to New York, he didn't sleep all that well. Cynthia had said she wanted to see him at his best, but all things considered, she wasn't exactly going to get him at his worst... By the time he reached New York, he was tired, and he'd managed to think about the scenario enough to really piss himself off, so Cynthia's informant found him in a state so far beyond riled that he was almost serene, and wired on the first cup of coffee he could get his hands on.

"So, you're Agent Owen Carvour... I've heard a lot about you."

"Is that so?" Owen raised an eyebrow, finishing off his coffee. That was strong enough to get him by, he supposed he'd be a little more in control of himself now that he felt less like his mind was trying to betray him for being too slow. If Curt turns up dead, this is on you. The Americans made sure the blood was on your hands, no getting out of it now.

"Mhm. Word is that you're quite the operative... If what they're saying is right, then I dare say I should be impressed."

Owen just hummed in response, having only caught about half of what had just been said on the grounds that he simply could not focus on anything that wasn't the outcome of this mission, or the the crushing weight on the inside of his chest that demanded he get on with it. He was both eager to get to the point, and eager not to find out what the Americans were saying about him. Thanks to Curt, most of it was probably complimentary, but either way, he didn't want to take his chances. "You know why I'm here, don't you?"

"Sure, you're here to help us with Mega... Cynthia tells me you already know the guy at fault?" The informant watched Owen nod, then produce a well broken in notebook from his pocket and lean back against the harbour wall. They'd told him to expect a man who was spectacularly prepared for any eventuality, and judging by the notes written on the page he could see, Owen fit that description down to the letter.

"Jenner, yes. I've been on a case of his before. I didn't fully intend on making him my business again, but what can you do?" To tell the truth, Owen was nervous, but desperate not to let it show. The longer he stayed here, the less time he had before things reached a critical point with Curt. But, the last thing he was going to admit was that he was afraid of the outcome of the mission. He was a professional, and professionals didn't so much as think of the word fear, least of all not on the job.

"He's gotten himself a full team, by the sounds of things. Mega reported at least half a dozen bruisers. Real heavyweights, not to mention the number of specialists he's likely got under his belt."

"Specialists as in..?"

"Arms, explosives... You name it, really."

That seemed to ring some bells. Owen could recall Jenner being the mastermind behind some millions of dollars in transactions involving something of that caliber. And since then, he had grown something of a small empire, which seemed to only be growing by the second. "Where are the likes of him based without anyone noticing the massive transactions passing from hand to hand?"

"That's the thing, isn't it, Agent? Not to be based in one place..."

"In an arms race of this size, it's only logical..." Owen answered automatically, tapping his pen against the notebook spirals. This state of serenity beyond the rage was starting to beome dangerous in itself. He felt like a badly fused explosive, programmed to explode at an entirely random interval between now and the foreseeable.

"Alright then, I'll specify. Where was Curt? And where is he now?"

"Mega's assignment was in Stamford, Conneticut. We don't have any reason to believe he's anywhere different now..."

Owen nodded, making a note of that, and reminding himself that Manhattan was suddenly a very convenient place because Conneticut wasn't actually that far away. He hadn't been told of anyone who was going to be joining him, and that led him to the all too fair assumption that Cynthia had sent him and him alone. Part of him wondered why; his business wasn't in American affairs. He was a British operative, and he'd turned down the offer of working for the American Secret Service before, on the grounds that it may well border on treasonous. He was still sure of that fact, knowing that he betrayed his country for the sake of taking up what may have frankly been a better and more convenient offer was not worth his life, that much he was sure of.

But, the other part of him realised that Cynthia probably had him on such a direct line of contact for a good reason, and it may not have had so much to do with the fact that he was talented enough to catch her eye. At the end of the day, she could near enough do whatever she wanted, and that may have included protecting the secrets of one of her best agents for the sake of not letting him go on a technicallity like that.

Did she know? He had to wonder… Did it make sense for her to know and to still trust the pair of them as much as she did? What they were doing could cost them way more than just their jobs if they were found out by the right people, and yet she seemed to be aware of their closeness. If she wasn't, he was convinced that he would've never known that Curt got captured, not unless he saw him in person and had to work through the mess inside his mind to get to what really happened.

No matter whether Cynthia knew and was actively protecting his secret by proxy of Curt, she had called him in for a job, and it was a job that he was going to do.

Just as he suspected, the journey to Conneticut didn't take him long. Manhattan was the most convenient location because apparently, there was a substation in the harbour that few people actually knew about, where a small team of field scientists were waiting to kit him with a communications wire and walk him through a map of the block they'd managed to narrow it down to. When Curt's signal was corrupted, they had no way of telling which way he went, but they were confident that, should he have stayed in the facility, that block would be within the margin of error.

One of the scientists had promised to keep him updated through the wire, to let him know when he was in range, and he in turn had promised to make this as swift a job as he could manage.

It was the least he could do. Especially since his nerves wouldn't leave him alone, and especially since he was practically being dragged towards saving Curt as fast as possible, on the grounds that he didn't know how his fragile, ticking bomb state of mind would react if he saw him even vaguely injured.

"I've reached the block, I believe. Just off Third, at the intersection." He looked around. There wasn't an awful lot going on that wasn't perfectly within the norm. for a while, he was going to be going about some kind of life too, looking like he didn't have the full intention to flip the kill switch.

"The crossroads?"

"I'm at a crossroads, yes."

"Which way are you facing?"

"I'm on the corner of Mayberry and Third, that's what's in front of me, at least…"

He could feel the fuse on the locked box of his half-suppressed rage fizzling to a dangerous point. He was getting closer, and that meant that he was getting closer to being able to take this storm of righteous anger out on whoever dared to get in the way. It wasn't called a license to kill for no reason, and it came equipped with all of the repercussions already taken care of. All that meant for him was that he could get away with giving Curt a little bit of justice. It would look like they got in the way of his mission, or that he was pursued… Depending on how well organised it was, and how he executed his arrival.

As the scientist started giving him directions, he took a breath. Not yet. Not yet… Prevalent justice would have to wait for a few minutes, until he was no longer public facing. There was a pistol in the inner pocket of his jacket, he could feel it against his side, with the spare clips sitting on the other side, the exact same reach away from his seemingly eager grasp.

That fuse blew when he was alone, when he was wandering the corridors of the facility, looking for anything that might class as a sign or some kind of pointer towards Curt. Instinct told him to get lower, to find sub-floors and basements that facilities like this wouldn't want exposing to the public eye. Upon descending the sirst flight of stairs, he heard a scream that was clearly a long time in the making. The way it echoed through the corridor made him stop in his tracks, and it was in that exact moment that the box blew open and everything exploded onto the outside.

Red tinged rage flooded his senses. He knew that tone well, though it wasn't so often that he heard him so distressed. Curt was good at keeping face under pressure or interrogation, it was one of the things he definitely gave himself credit for, and one of the things that he definitely deserved to do so for. Owen knew that he was more than capable of giving his adversaries as much shit as they gave to him, and also being so cosmically annoying that they have no choice but to make things harder for him…. It was really one of those situations that could go either way…

Curt— if he was right in trusting his instincts and believing that he'd found him— had broken. That meant that he was injured beyond comprehension, and part of that thought was what tipped him over to the side of unfiltered rage. After that, it was a flash of knowing what needed to be done, and knowing how to do it. His pace quickened, his breath sturdy, his mind focused… Owen was unshakable, and definitely no cause for competition. Those who were unfortunate enough to get in his way found themselves gravely injured at the hands of his aim, even those who thought themselves lucky enough to have escaped him by running down the corridor.

He stopped at nothing and nobody; there was not one obstacle that could get in the way of a man like him, on a mission like this.

It took an apparent maze of corridors before he managed to break open a door that led him directly to the one thing that made this whole thing worth it. Heaving a breath as he scanned the room, he finally— finally— laid eyes on the man who had been inadvertently guiding him towards his location the longer he was in pain.

Curt.

And he was a mess. Blood poured from his temple down the side of his face, and there was a sizeable gash running his shoulder and tearing the fabric of his shirt. He looked up when the door was thrown open, and his eyes went wide. He tried to fight showing how relieved he was, but it was hard to do that when his face was such an open book, when he was so relieved to see his partner.

Owen made a signal— a sign that all of this would be over in a matter of minutes— and levelled his pistol. One breath, and the man closest to Curt had fallen, a crimson river pouring from his forehead. Another, and the man advancing on him had fallen victim to a couple of sizeable holes to the chest in quick succession. A third, and Owen had stolen a knife from one of the fallen, and he was looking for the best angle to break Curt's ties so they could leave as fast as possible.

The knife didn't make easy work of the thick cord keeping Curt in place, but Owen found a good angle as he crouched closer to the ground, and managed to get Curt free before anyone else found out he was there.

His breath came out shallow, he was clawing at the last scraps of the rage, fighting not to let it subside into concern too early. But, on the other hand, the concern was justified too, because every time his gaze darted over Curt, he saw something else worth noting. Now was not the time to think about that, not until there was a solid guarantee that they could both get out of there safe, and there was a clear window for curt to get back to his agency.

"Can you stand?" He asked, as softly as he could manage it.

Curt nodded initially, but then realised how much he had been overestimating his own abilities, when he actually tried to stand and Owen had to rush to his side to stop him collapsing. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, Owen could see them from this close. It gave just enough of a spark to that slight of fury that he had left, just enough to seep in a deep desire to see this place— and by extension, Michael Jenner— crumble until there was nothing left of it.

"How'd you… How'd you know?" Curt asked, looking up at him as they trailed the corridor Owen had come in through backwards.

"You wouldn't believe this, but Cynthia called me."

"Wait, seriously?"

Owen nodded. "Apparently I can be useful when I want to be."

#spies are forever #saf #curtwen #agent curt mega #owen carvour #tw blood #tw injury #void offering #star mail #nova's tags → #injured ass curt and feral ass owen #a combination made for the gods #i cannot wait for you guys to see owen lose his absolute shit #you ever get tired of being polite 👀 don't you wanna go apeshit 👀

[epicdogymoment]

once again rubbed the wrong way by friends who unintentionally reveal that they dont really engage with my masculinity in any real way and see me as nonbinary (female-lite)

#leologisms #...................i need more trans friends. in real life #its so frustrating. your gay friends knowing youre transgender but still being able to tell that yeah. they really do just see you as #female-lite. and pushing back by overcorrecting the other way. but im NOT a trans man! and im not a woman either! and the label #nonbinary doesnt fit me even if other people might understand my identity best as under that label. im just transgender. none of #your business. but hearing people say 'well thats why you dont date men' and 'ugh i hate men' etc while i KNOW what they mean #the fact that theyre ok just saying that around me. TO me. a bisexual transgender. feels so bad. #not only am i not masculine in their eyes theyre also telling me that to them masculinity is inherently. dirty. dangerous. but thank god IM #not like that right? hahaha!!!!! thank god i would never be attracted to masculinity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #.........god. anyway. the thing that prompted this happened a few days ago now and it was just a throwaway comment #but my awful brain loves latching onto those. so whatever.

[perenlop]

feel like an asshole for saying this but man i hope my sister doesnt stay on our vacation long

#liiike shes coming to be with dad for fathers day thats why i feel bad #but we’ve been in a weird spot for some time now bc of what happen #and also last time i was at the beach with her she body shamed me and pressured me into s #into sitting in the tent she packed and discouraged me from swimming bc of my body hair #she probably wont this time as much bc ive changed the kind of swimsuits i wear #but then that may prompt her to insist to my parents that im trans #which i am but i do not want them to know that #im conflicted towards her bc i like her shes the closest thing i have to a sibling i can talk to #but shes also psycho analyzing me constantly and badgerinng me into talking to her and then telling my parents what i said #and when i mentioned the thing on thanksgiving she insisted i made HER uncomfortable and forced the conversation and she had to comfort me #when??? that is NOT what happpened at ALL #what happened was that matt had been a prick again and i snapped at him and she went off on me abt how i had to process my trauma already #while also saying he’d done something far worse to me when i was little (which isnt true) and saying i had to process it and move on #bc ‘’hes just existing now and you have a problem with that so you need to get over it’’ #‘’i KNOW he did that i KNOW he hurt you worse than youll admit bc you want to protect him but you HAVE to get over it and talk about it!!’’ #and i asked and asked and asked her to stop bc it was uncomfortable and she just #and she knows she fucked up with that bc she avoided me on christmas and ‘’had to give me distance’’ on text #my mom’s encouraging me to just go off if she tries that again tho so that’s something #dl