#infatuation fic

[troublemoi]

Infatuation Chap 33

By TroubleMoi

Summary: In his thirty-seven years of life, Erwin had never expected to be so entertained by make-up tutorial videos.

#last chapter guys! #omg I am so sad #eruri fic #levi x erwin #erwin smith #levi ackerman #infatuation #infatuation fic #my fic #my writing #snk fic #aot fic #attack on titan #mxm smut #smut #angst #romance #modern au #modern setting

[hbdttg]

Part 1 / tag list below the cut

“I’m quitting,” Eddie declares, “I’m out. Call me a tree, ‘cause I’m leaving. Call me a banana, ‘cause I’m splitting. T-t-t-t-that’s all, folks!” he adds, doing his best impression of Porky Pig’s signature stammering.

Chrissy’s laser focus doesn’t stray from her monitor, even when Eddie bodily throws himself into the chair across her desk with a long, strangled groan. Wordlessly, she raises her left index finger at him in a silencing gesture. With her brows furrowed in concentration, she drags her mouse around on its pad and double-clicks something on her screen before nodding decisively to herself. After another few clicks, she finally lowers her finger, raises her eyes, and meets Eddie’s gaze.

“Would you mind grabbing what I just printed? Please?” she asks, smiling at him imploringly.

Chrissy could ask Eddie to bleach his hair and shave off an eyebrow and he’d do it. She’s actually who he has to thank for landing such a cushy job with HHH—a referral from a trusted associate like her goes a long way in a place like this.

And despite Eddie’s many complaints about becoming a corporate sellout, he can’t deny that it certainly has its perks. The office is only a ten-minute commute from his apartment, the compensation agreement he signed amounted to more money than his last two jobs combined, his benefits package is frankly ridiculous, and he gets to work with one of his best friends in the world. Overall, not a bad gig.

Even so, he makes a show of sighing, loud and longsuffering, before doing as Chrissy asks, leaving her office to grab her job off the printer. Eddie knows she works in HR and some of her stuff can get pretty confidential, so he doesn’t even try to skim the contents of the page as he walks it back over to her.

“Here,” he says, thrusting the paper at Chrissy facedown.

“Thanks!” she says. She makes no moves to take it from him. “That’s for you, actually.”

Curious, Eddie takes the paper back and flips it over. In the center of the page is a graphic of safety sign one might find in a cartoon factory, though Chrissy had edited the original from “[___] Days Since Last Accident” to “[___] Days Since Eddie Last Threatened to Quit His Job”. There’s a big red zero in the counter box.

Eddie tries to glower down at Chrissy, but it’s sort of hard to maintain when she bursts into laughter. It’s been years, but the sound of Chrissy laughing like this, all bright and breathless and unrestrained, never fails to transport him back to his (third) senior year of high school, when they first became friends over a failed drug deal.

“Don’t be cute,” Eddie says with a laughable lack of authority, dropping heavily back down into the chair.

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” Chrissy counters, brow raised archly.

Eddie rolls his eyes, crumpling the page into a ball and lobbing it in between them.

Chrissy lets the ball land harmlessly on her desk before sweeping it into the trashcan by her feet.  “Just so you know, I’ve had that saved on my desktop since Monday—and I haven’t had to edit the days count a single time.”

Eddie scoffs, but it’s hard to defend himself when this current visit marks the fifth day in a row he’s floundered into her office, vainly announcing his resignation. “Yeah, well,” he says weakly, “printing it seems like a gross misuse of company resources.”

“What are you going to do, report me?” Chrissy says with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

“Let me guess: you’re the one who receives those reports?” Eddie says dryly.

“Yep!” she says cheerfully. “Now, go on and tell me about your latest trainwreck of an interaction with Steve Harrington.”

“Christ, Chris!” Eddie hisses, leaping to his feet and immediately spinning around to check if anyone was around to hear her damning words. The coast is clear, luckily, but he still scrambles to shut her office door before falling back into his chair. “You can’t just go around saying his name all willy-nilly.”

“He’s not gonna suddenly appear if you say his name three times, Eddie. See, watch. Steve. Steve. St—”

“Don’t risk it!” Eddie squawks loudly, cutting her off.

“You’re an absolute mess,” she says through a laugh, shaking her head at him.

And well, Chrissy’s not wrong.

Eddie’s been a mess since Monday morning, when he unknowingly produced, directed, and starred in The Roast of Steve Harrington. He blames his shitty memory for forgetting what floor his new office was on—if he’d known he was sharing the elevator with someone he could have potentially worked with (let alone someone whose surname made up a third of the company name), he wouldn’t have opened his big, fat mouth in the first place.

When he finally gathered the courage to make it back down to the fifty-second floor and show his face at the HHH office, he kicked off his onboarding with Chrissy with a strangled, “I know it’s my first day and I technically just started ten minutes ago, but I quit. Thank you for the opportunity and good-bye forever.”

Chrissy, the traitor, spent a full five minutes laughing in his face over his shamefully recounted story before patting him twice on the head and informing him he wasn’t allowed to quit for at least six months. The overly saccharine tone of her voice alone told Eddie there was no room for argument there.

Still, that didn’t stop him from following her into her office after the all-hands meeting on Tuesday, all the while whining in her ear, “I can’t thrive in these conditions, Chrissy. Please, I beg of you—accept my sincere and humble resignation from this cursed hellscape.”

‘These conditions’ consisted of any rooms and/or conversations that contained Steve Harrington. Eddie hadn’t been expecting to see the guy doting over the catering when he walked into the conference room that afternoon, and he certainly wasn’t expecting his supervisor and trainer, Murray, to lead him over to Steve to introduce the two of them (though that was likely just an excuse to head straight for the sandwiches that were laid out for the meeting).

While Eddie choked on his own tongue trying to spit out some generic, inoffensive greeting, Steve merely watched him with an amused smirk before thrusting his hand out and offering a perfectly friendly “It’s nice to meet you, Eddie, I’m Steve”, as if Eddie didn’t have Steve’s name and face (and stupidly fit body—who the fuck looks that good in a pair of khakis?!) burnt into his memory from the day prior.

Afterward, Murray, who most assuredly did not have a filter of any kind, bluntly commented on Eddie’s awkwardness, then spent the next five minutes trying to determine if it was normal, strangers-meeting-for-the-first time awkwardness, or something more sensational. Eddie stubbornly kept his mouth shut until the meeting started.

Wednesday followed a similar pattern, with Eddie flouncing into Chrissy’s office with a dramatic “I choose to break my blood oath. At this point I’d welcome the sweet release of death if it meant I didn’t have to work here anymore.”

Chrissy just corrected him, patiently explaining that he was employed at-will, rather than by blood oath, and that if he left before his sixth month, she’d personally skin him alive. Eddie had to pause and weigh the pros and cons of being skinless. Surely it couldn’t be worse than his latest exchange with Steve—via email this time, mercifully.

He’d just learned how to field helpdesk tickets and received one from Steve Harrington himself. It was a simple enough software request ticket, so he assigned it to himself and replied with next steps, asking Steve for a code so he could remote into his computer and install the program.

Steve replied back, asking where he was supposed to find the code. It was an innocuous enough question, but then Eddie noticed something a little off about his email signature: his last name was bolded.

Eddie ignored it, assuming it was a stylistic choice—nothing to read into, surely—but then Steve sent another email shortly after to let him know to disregard his last email; he’d found the right app and was just waiting for it to generate a code. This time, Harrington was bolded and at least two sizes bigger than his first name.

Then, in Steve’s third email, sent not a minute later with the requested code, Harrington was bolded, two sizes bigger than his first name, and highlighted yellow—a tactic Chrissy found so hilarious that she had to shoo Eddie out of her office with tears in her eyes so that she could compose herself and actually get some work done.

Thursday was a blessed reprieve from Steve’s unique brand of psychological warfare, but Eddie still somehow managed to royally humiliate himself in front of him. After he slunk into her office and silently pushed a scribbled-on napkin across her desk—

Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from my position as Systems Analyst II at HHH, effective immediately. Effective yesterday. In fact, I’ll pay you back the entirety of my wages earned if we just forget I ever worked here.

—Chrissy tutted at him sympathetically before taking the napkin and reaching over to dab it at the large wet stain on his shirt.

He’d been walking back to his desk from the breakroom when he rounded a corner and bumped into Steve in the hallway. Literally bumped into, bodily contact and surprised yelps and everything. And it probably wouldn’t have been such a big deal, really, if not for the fact that he had a newly refilled mug of coffee in his hand.

“Eddie, oh my god, are you okay?”

No, Eddie wasn’t okay, because he just splashed himself with hot fucking coffee and now Steve Harrington was worriedly fussing over him and tentatively trying to mop up the liquid with his own fucking hands for some reason, and he was embarrassed (and a little turned on?) and he had to get the fuck out of there now.

“I’m okay, sorry, it’s fine—” he managed to squeak before whirling around and scurrying to the bathroom.

So yes, Eddie’s been an absolute mess the past few days, and today is no different.

…Actually, scratch that. Today is different. Today is worse.

“Okay, now spill,” Chrissy says. “What happened?”

With another drawn-out, pitiful groan, Eddie sinks down in his seat and lets his neck hang off the backrest, blinking up at the ceiling.

“Talk to me, Eds,” Chrissy says, concern starting to bleed into her voice. “If he’s actually bullying you, you can file a complaint. I have a form here somewhere.”

Eddie hears her open one of her desk drawers and reluctantly sits up. “He’s not bullying me, Mom,” he says with a huff. “We actually…we talked.”

“You talked?” Chrissy asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, about the elevator. Buried the hatchet and everything. I said sorry, we laughed about it, it’s over and done with.” Eddie’s gaze darts around Chrissy’s desk, searching for something to distract him from the warm and fuzzy feeling growing in his stomach at the memory of their conversation.

“That’s great, I’m so proud of you!” Chrissy says cheerfully. “But wait, if you two are good now…”

Eddie doesn’t want her to ask what she’s about to ask, because the answer might be more embarrassing than all of his other Steve stories combined.

“Why are you still going on about quitting?”

Eddie drops his face into his hands, feeling totally and utterly pathetic. “Um, because I think I’m sort of, kind of, just a little bit…in love with him?”

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

tbh I didn’t think I’d be writing a second part, but if strangers on the internet validate me enough, I guess I’ll do anything~

Y’ALL. I’m blown away by the response to part one of this silly lil au. I didn’t reply to any of the lovely comments or tags, but please know if you engaged in any way (or even if you just read the fic and snorted a little through your nose at a bit you found funny) I love you with my entire heart and you’ve made my entire life.

[Now for the tag list, which I’ve never done before. Sorry if you didn’t actually want to be on here! Or, sorry if you’re stumbling upon this post on your own after asking to be tagged and I missed you oops.]

@messrs-weasley @n0-1-important @bornonthesavage @thing-a-ling @eddiemunsonswife @changenamelater @ispyblu @thesuninyaface

@invisibleflame812 @4nemo1egend @ikolanatari @mavernanche @songbird-garden @trashpocket @original-cypher @over7joyed 

@commonxsenss @justdyingontheinside @mojowitchcraft @maya-custodios-dionach @justmiiriam @imzadidragonfly @lillemilly @gay-stranger-things @child-of-cthulhu @bleedingoptimism @lemanzanabizarra @melaniehere91

@iswearitsjustme @silver-snaffles @csinnamon-fox @paint-music-with-me @epicsteddieficrecs @sweetcreaturetm @hxneyfarms @bossyknow-it-all @vecnuthy @stevethehairington @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @nburkhardt

@gayngerthings @patchworkgargoyle @violetsteve @henderdads @2btheanswertothequestion

#stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #modern office au #corporate steddie au #platonic hellcheer #okay obviously eddie's not actually in love with steve #in this au he's a dramatic bitch on top of being a cringe fail loser boy and it's so delightful to me #when he says 'in love with' he means in that superficial infatuated way you sometimes get #when you're suddenly super into someone you don't actually know #let him liiiive #fic writing #hbd

[lydiimae]

Adoration

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Part 1 <3

MDI!! 18+

Warnings: Mentions of sex work, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions (very light and brief) of physical abuse to readers mother, oral (m receiving, vaginal sex, masturbation, dirty talk, talk of public sex

Word Count: 4.1k

A.N: ITS HERE. Part two of infatuation \^-^/! I had so much trouble trying to figure out how to extend this story, but as soon as I wrote this I was overwhelmed with ideas on how to continue it. I am so sorry I have been so very inconsistent with writing, I am nearing finals so I have been so low energy and motivation. (College is awful). For those who have sent me requests- they are coming I promise! Anyways my loves, here is Benedict Bridgerton and you being Benedict Bridgerton and you <3 I hope you enjoy it, and as always, thank you for your overwhelming support and love >_<

It has been two weeks since that lovely, lust-filled night with Benedict. Two weeks since you had officially become his mistress. Two weeks, and you still made sure to keep your past a secret, and the significant fact that you worked as a maid for the family that lives right across from him.  There was a certain shame that came with both, a feeling that he would not want you to come to his townhouse anymore if he found out. You thought he might find it odd that you work so close to his house. Perhaps he might even come to the assumption that you were seeking him out at the party, that he would find you strange. None of that would ever be true, of course. Benedict adores the time he spends with you, he makes it clear every time you meet, but there is still an underlying sense of dread. Especially today.

Indeed, that dread is the same dread that is lingering in the back of your head now. You are chaperoning Penelope to tea with Colin, much to her excitement. You had spent almost three hours getting her ready beforehand, insisting that she looks good in whatever she wears. The both of you walked across the street, the young debutante grinning ear to ear. You, on the other hand, were a ball of nerves. You had met Benedict in his bachelor's lodgings just last night, but you decided not to speak of what he may see today. You were regretting that decision now as you knocked on the door with a shaky hand.

“Y/N, you are shaking. Whatever is the matter? Are you feeling well?” Penelope asks, looking at you with pure concern. “It is only a headache, my lady. Nothing you have to worry about. Today is about you.” You assure, smiling as brightly as you can as you fib. She smiles back, her face brightening. The footman, John, answers the door and grins. “Lady Featherington. Lord Bridgerton is in the drawing room. Please come in.” He says, opening his arm towards the entryway. You collect Penelope's shawl before bowing your head to the footman politely. She starts down the hall and you take a deep breath before faking a sparkling smile, following her into the drawing room.

Sure enough, Benedict is there, sprawled out across the sofa with his sketchbook and charcoal in hand. He looks up lazily when Penelope walks in, but his expression quickly changes to one of shock when you follow. Your face shifts from a bright smile to an apologetic one, trying to communicate your worries silently. A silent prayer that he will pick up on your lingering anxieties about working for his neighbor. 

He clears his throat and comes to the door, where you are patiently standing. “You… for them?” He whispers as he approaches, his expression unreadable. You only nod in response, knowing that if you say anything it will come out a jumbled mess of stutters. “Why did I not know before now?” He asks, settling into a polite position near you. To anyone on the outside, it looks as if he is merely speaking to a maid about his brother and her mistress. “I... I suppose I did not find it important.” You fib.

“Well, I certainly do. You are so secretive.” He sighs, looking over at you. Your eyes settle on your feet, not daring to meet his. “Y/N. If you are going to be my mistress there must be some semblance of transparency between us.” He says softly, his pinky extending and curling around one of yours. The action makes your cheeks heat up. “I did not know if you would think it strange. I have worked there for so long… I thought you would perhaps think less of me.” You whisper, the reasoning sounding silly now that you have said it out loud.

"And why would I think that?" He asks, sensing your nerves and giving your pinky a comforting squeeze as if to say that he is not put off. "You do not find it strange that I have worked across the road from you for ages? I thought that you would think I somehow... sought you out." You whisper, a bit tense. “No, I only pity that you have to be in the same home as Lady Featherington, the woman is a wench.” He mumbles, nudging your hip with his own. You have to suppress a laugh as you look up at him. He looks down at you with an expression of adoration.

"Y/N, I do appreciate honesty. I wish for you to tell me things like this. You do not need to feel anxious around me." He says softly, turning from playful to concerned like a dime. "I do not. I promise. It is more anxieties that linger because of past experiences I suppose." You whisper, looking down at your feet. He senses that there may be something more underneath, and he also senses that you do not wish to speak about it any longer. "My statement still stands. I am not others, I shall not judge you for being a woman who needs to support herself. I certainly shall not judge you for being apprehensive of telling me the place of your employment either." He assures.

“Thank you.” You breathe, looking away before you slip up and do something entirely untoward. You watch Colin and Penelope interact, a small smile gracing your lips as you observe how sweet they are to each other. “Colin. Does he hold any affection for any of the debutantes this season?” You ponder quietly as you watch Penelope smile shyly at the young man. Benedict looks over as well and a knowing look crosses over his features. “He has been secretive about it. Unusually so.” He whispers back. “And Penelope?” He returns. “Penelope is ever hopeful about one.” You hum before returning your gaze to him. 

He meets your eyes and nods, giving your pinky a squeeze with his own. “She is a sweet girl. I have no doubt she will be successful in making her hopes a reality this season.” He murmurs. You nod and look away once more, stolen glances getting all too much paired with the grasp of his finger around yours. “Have you opened yourself up to the idea of marriage, Benedict?” You ask though you do not wish to know the answer. Some strange ache spreads through your chest at the thought of him marrying someone.

He visibly tenses and shakes his head. “No. No, I wish to focus on my art. Improving it, getting ahead in the academy. No time for… marriage right now.” He nods, clearing his throat and quickly returning his gaze to his brother. You nod, something about his vehement denial of the idea of marriage making you calm slightly. “It is quite suffocating. The idea of having to give your whole heart to a person with the risk that they break it. Then you would be… stuck.” You whisper and he looks down at you.

“You believe so?” He asks, his brows knitting together. You look up and nod. “I… what if the person changes once you make your vows? What if they hurt you? I find it terrifying.” You admit. “You do not?” You ask and he shakes his head. “No. I find the risk all the more romantic. If you find someone who truly makes your heart swell, someone who you find you cannot breathe without, who plagues your mind day in and day out, would it not be worth the risk?” He asks and you cannot respond. 

“Finding a woman that makes you feel as though you have discovered the reason behind why poets speak of love so greatly, the way that artists paint the feeling so vividly, is well worth the risk to me. It is what makes life so exciting, finding your person. Your reason.” He finishes, and your heart is practically hammering out of your chest. “That is a very beautiful outlook on love, Benedict.” You manage to whisper back, and he smiles. “It is the naive artist in me.” He whispers back, his tone right back to playful and you nod, smiling to yourself. Whoever Benedict marries is a lucky woman, you decide.

Soon, Penelope and Colin part ways and you are forced to let go of Benedict’s pinky. With a quick curtsy to the Bridgerton brothers, you lead Penelope into the entryway where you wrap her shawl around her shoulders. You curtsy once more to the footman before walking the young debutante back home.

She speaks of Colin the whole way back and for the rest of the afternoon. You find it endearing, the amount of love she holds for the young man. She has never once admitted it outright, but it has always been quite clear to you in the way she speaks and looks at him. Your heart used to break for her when she would come crying to you about the things she overheard him say about her, but recently that has all changed. They are both clearly in love. 

It makes you think of what it would feel like, to be a young debutante in love. To have all of the dresses in the world, to have your every wish only an arm's length away, to have your every need catered to. You had concluded long ago that love was a privilege, just as happiness and comfort. After all, you never saw any of those things in the neighborhood you grew up in. Not in the families you were surrounded by, and certainly not in your own.

Your father worked in a factory and your mother, though she would never admit it, was a prostitute. When your father reached the age of forty-five, the factory laid him off on the claim that he was getting too old and slow to keep up with the children. That is when your father began drinking. You were about ten and seven at the time, and you had picked up a job under a modiste in town where you met Genevieve. Every night when you would return home you would find your father screaming drunken insults at your mother. Drunken insults turned into drunken actions that he would swear would never happen again, and one day your mother stopped coming home from her nights on the streets.

Then, when you would come home, your father would yell at you. The minute he even hinted at being physical with you, you packed your bags and never looked back. Happiness and love were dead, a silly idea that only people with money could have. You spent another three years living with Genevieve before the job at the Featheringtons was presented to you. You accepted Lady Featherington’s offer gratefully and have been working as a lady’s maid for Penelope ever since. The only person who knows the full story of your past is Genevieve, as transparency is another comfort only granted to those with money. Who knows what would be said about you if you openly admitted that your mother was a lady of the night?

“How do you know Benedict, Y/N?” Penelope’s voice snaps you out of the trance you had been in while brushing her hair out before bed. Your blood runs cold. Had she overheard your conversation? “Whatever do you mean, my lady?” You ask, playing dumb. She snorts and smiles knowingly. “You were talking with him like you had known him your whole life, not to mention the way the both of you were looking at each other.” She says.

“My lady I-” You start, trying to think of any excuse to explain the way you were speaking to Benedict, but she quickly interrupts. “Y/N, you know that whatever you share with me shall be kept with me. I promise.” She says with a comforting smile and you chew on your bottom lip, deciding if you want to tell her the full truth or the half-truth. You quickly decide that there is no point in lying, as you are quite terrible at it. 

“We met at a party a few weeks ago.” You whisper as your cheeks turn pink. She turns, making your hands fall to your side. “Really? My God! He is handsome, is he not?” She says with a grin and you smile shyly. “He is indeed, my lady.” You agree and she laughs. “Have you met with him? Has your friendship grown?” She asks and you nod. “I do. I meet with him whenever I am able.” You reply and she nods. “You deserve something wonderful, Y/N. Perhaps he could-” She starts but you shake your head. “It is nothing like that, my lady. I am quite content with my life here, working for you. I see no need in chasing something I am not allowed to have.” You say and her face falls. She nods understandably nonetheless, turning back to the mirror so you can continue to get her ready for bed, the idle conversation turning to one of the books she has read recently.

You make your way down to the servants' quarters after making sure Penelope has everything she needs for the night. As you walk past the other servants one of the other maids stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Grace, what is it?” You ask and she grins. “You have a letter, Y/N. A young man snuck it in while you were taking Penelope shopping this afternoon.” She says with a knowing smile, passing you a small letter.

“Thank you.” You hum before making your way to your small bedroom. You walk in and shut the door behind you, lighting the candle on your desk. “Meet me at midnight, where the world sleeps and the stars whisper secrets. Let us share a moment under the moon's gentle gaze, just you and me, lost in each other's embrace. B.B.” You grin at his somewhat sloppy handwriting, tucking the note away in the lockable drawer in your desk before getting ready to go to his townhouse. 

You pin your hair up and put on one of Genevive’s more risque creations, made just for you. A gift for your nineteenth birthday that you have never had a use for until now. It is a baby pink, almost seethrough material that hangs loose on your body. However, it hugs the assets that you find Benedict likes the most. You cover it up with a cloak to walk and slip on your stockings and shoes before making your way out of the Featherington estate.

He had thought of nothing but you since you arrived at his home, even now as he paints in the small drawing room of his townhouse his thoughts are plagued by you. He is trying to be patient, but he wants nothing more than to run to the Featherington residence and have his way with you. His grip on the paintbrush in his hand tightens as his thoughts turn to the way your body moves when you are in his bed. The way his thighs feel hitting yours when he is buried to the hilt inside of you, the noises he draws from your perfect cunt, the way your breasts bounce when you are on top of him. 

He groans and drops the paintbrush, burying his head in his hands as his trousers become tighter. He closes his eyes and jiggles his leg, trying to take his mind off sex. How humiliating would it be if he answered the door with his cock fully hard already? He groans and runs a hand through his hair, standing up and moving to the sofa so he can take care of the problem himself. He leans back and unbuttons his trousers, letting his cock spring free against his clothed stomach. 

He sighs and spits on his hand beginning to stroke himself to the thought of you. Your face when you reach your peak, the way you moan when he drinks from your body, how your lips wrap around his cock as your eyes look up into his, always so eager to please. He moans at the thought of your perfect breasts pressed against his chest, your nails dragging angry red marks into his back as he fucks you so hard his hips leave marks on your pelvic bone.  God, he wants nothing more than to mark you as his for the rest of the world to see. He wants to parade you around all of London completely naked and on all fours. 

You smile to yourself as you walk to the back entrance, deciding to surprise him. You are happy to find the back door unlocked and you let yourself in, expecting him to be in the drawing room sat in front of a canvas. You hang up your cloak and seak deeper into the home, making sure your bare feet touch the cold wood as quietly as they can. 

You freeze when you hear a loud moan from the drawing room, your heart dropping to your feet. Surely he does not have another woman here, you thought that you had made your boundaries quite clear when he made you his mistress. You did not want to fuck him after he had just fucked another woman, the thought made your stomach roll over with disgust. You chew on the inside of your cheek as you peek inside the drawing room, your lips parting when you are presented with a very much-alone Benedict stroking his cock on the sofa.

Heat pools in your core as your eyes lock in his hand, moving up and down quite quickly. The tip is already an angry red, dripping with hints of his arousal. You take a deep breath and make your way into the room as quietly as you can, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning when he lets out a very breathy, and wanton, “Y/N.” You drop to your knees in front of him, pressing a light kiss to his knee in hopes of not startling him too much.

His eyes shoot open and his hands automatically go to cover himself. You laugh at his startled expression and he sighs in relief, moving a hand down to cup your cheek. “How did you get in?” He breathes, running his thumb along your cheekbone. You hum and lean into his gentle caress. “You left the back door unlocked. So irresponsible, Bridgerton.” You murmur and he chuckles, the deep sound making your thighs all wet and sticky. 

“Perhaps I was being hopeful.” He whispers back and you smile. “You have not commented on the dress I have on. I worked so very hard to look good for you.” You tease, jutting your lip out playfully. He rolls his eyes and gestures for you to stand, making you giggle as you do. “Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He grunts, placing his hands on your hips. You swat them away and he huffs in frustration. “Do not pout, I want to please you. Please.” You whisper and all of his resolve suddenly disappears.

He watches as you sink back down onto your knees between his legs, slowly slipping his trousers off. Once his legs are bare, you begin to pepper the inside of his thighs with wet, open-mouthed kisses. He groans and slides a hand into your hair, making the pins fall out. He plays with your curls and grips as you press a kiss so very close to his twitching cock, his reaction making you smirk. 

Without warning you take his tip into your mouth, sucking on it like an ice lolly. He groans and rolls his head back, his hips bucking up as he grips your hair to try and push you onto his cock. You allow him to guide you, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes as your nose gets pressed into his pubic hair. You look up at him just as he looks down at you, a cocky smirk plastered across his face as he begins to thrust into your mouth. The action makes you moan, your hand sneaking between your legs to soothe the ache that has settled there. 

You whine and grind down onto your fingers, the vibrations making him grunt and stall. You gag and tap once on his thigh, pulling off of him when he lets go. Drool dribbles down your neck and between your breasts as you pant, looking up at him with glassy eyes. He curls his fingers around your chin and leads you up onto your feet. “So perfect.” He whispers as his hands find their way to the soft flesh of your rear. He squeezes and you gasp, moving to straddle him as if on instinct.

He hums and presses a kiss to your lips as he begins to undo the ribbons on your dress. The fabric falls and he lifts your hips, his lips still locked with yours. He throws the dress somewhere across the room and his hands come to your waist, moving you so you are lying flat on the sofa. He breaks the kiss only to lick a stripe down your neck as your legs wrap around his waist. He hums and bites your collarbone as his fingers plow through your folds, making you cry out loudly. He smirks and rubs his thumb around your clit, slipping one long finger into your entrance. 

Your eyes roll back as his finger curls into that spongey spot he somehow knows how to find right away each time. He adds another finger and begins to twist, slowly getting your body ready for him. You pant hard and crowd a hand into his thick hair, tugging him up from your neck so you can steal a sloppy kiss full of tongue and tooth. You whine when the feeling of his fingers disappears and buck your hips up into his, silently begging for whatever he wants to give you.

He parts the kiss and presses his forehead against yours, his tip nudging your entrance. You whine and close your eyes, at which he grips your chin. “Look at me while I fuck you, Y/N. You know the rules.” He breathes and your eyes snap open. He grins and buries himself completely inside of you with one thrust, making you cry out as he grunts. “Fuck. Fuck, you… God. So tight.” He breathes, beginning to pound into you at a brutal pace. You grip his arms, your mouth hanging open as loud moans and whines slip past your lips beyond your control.

He pounds into you, your nails dragging down his back with every thrust. His hands press down onto your hips so hard you are sure that his fingerprints will be embedded in your skin. He revels in the slick noises he draws from your cunt, sucking a mark on your chest where he knows it will not be seen. The sound of thighs meeting thighs fills the small space, the smell of sex making your mind foggy. His pelvis slams against your clit with every thrust, making an utterly intoxicating feeling of pain and pleasure wash over your body as he fills you to the brim.

He is so close already, what with palming himself and a quick suck from you. He presses his head into the crook of your neck and bites down, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. His hand sneaks between both of your bodies and his thumb finds your clit, circling fast so that he can get you to where he is. It works wonderfully and your cunt clenches around him ad you call out his name. He pulls out quickly, spilling himself on your stomach as his fingers take you to your climax. A pinch to your clit takes you over the edge, seeing stars and babbling nonsense about how good he is as you do. 

He lifts himself off of you and cuddles into your side, making you smile. He peppers your shoulder with kisses and you laugh. “Stay?” He whispers after a moment of nothing but kisses and the sounds of your breathing. Your cheeks heat up at the adorable, hopeful expression that crosses over his face. “Mmm. I think I can, Mister Bridgerton.” You tease, flipping him onto his back and crawling over him. “Jesus Christ. You are utter perfection.” He whispers, claiming your mouth again.

Perhaps, love is not that far away.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton/reader #oneshot #smut #fic #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton oneshot #benedict bridgerton x you #fanfiction #smut fanfiction #18+ only #18+ content #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton smut #bridgerton oneshot #infatuation #benedict bridgerton series

[astaroth1357]

Flipping the Script: Leviathan Progression (Human World AU)

Previously: After a baggage mishap at the airport, you and your cosplay group found the perfect replacement for your Lord of Shadows! Rejoice, as now a demon has your number! (Not that you know that)

Contents: Second person (you), fluff, MC is an otaku, MC is down bad, mutual pining between idiots

Part One, Part Two (You are here), Part Three (Coming Soon)...

~♡♡♡~

Levi met up with you and your team for the photoshoot that day, and it couldn’t have gone better!

As promised, you spent your first visit to the vendors room with him as part of his compensation for helping you out. What you hadn’t expected was for him to be quite so funny during your time together.

He had an infectious energy about him… Especially when talking about the shows and hobbies that he liked to indulge in. Coincidently, they happened to line up with a lot of your interests as well, so there was a nearly endless conversations between you two.

By the time the rest of your team tracked you down to do a scheduled fan signing, you and Levi had already gotten lunch at a themed café and exchanged online handles to play games together back at the hotel. Then they had to sit and suffer through you rambling about just how sweet and hilarious he was...

Even after the convention, the two of you kept up a very steady contact. Weekly game nights were an absolute must and he occasionally would join chats with you if you decided to stream. Leviachan, as you'd happily begun to call him, became a fast regular in your DMs and on your chat history.

You were surprised that for all of Levi's skill, he didn’t have the same kind of social media presence that you had to share his cosplay. You offered multiple times to bring him in for collabs together, but…

Well, Levi was always super cagey with you about just WHERE he lives or even where he was born in! When you first asked, he said it was, “J-just a small place somewhere out there! Nowhere important.”

To some extent, you understood his desire for privacy, so you've never really pried, but it still felt so odd that he wouldn’t even give you a country… Not even a time zone! Whenever you wanted to call him, he’d always just “up.” Did he ever sleep??

What information you could gain from him was mainly family-related. He had six brothers, no Mom, and an estranged Dad. The one you saw on the day you met him, Malcolm, was the second oldest and their relationship seemed… complicated.

It wasn’t until you both decided to do a video call to play a game he sent you that you got to first meet the others...

You had your computer booting up the copy of Demonlands 2 that Levi sent for you to play while the window for your video call rang for him to pick up. It was another typical Friday game night for you, though you decided not to stream in favor of having a chill night of fun with Levi. He had been talking up this as one of his comfort games for a long while, though you had never heard of it yourself, so when he offered to give you copy you sprang for it! Over the months you’d gotten to know the shy otaku, you’d learned to put paramount trust in his recommendations. He really knew his stuff, anime AND game-wise, so listening to him was like having your own personal guru.

You slid your headphones on and got comfortable in your chair right as Levi’s end picked up and the corner of your monitor displayed the smiling face of the man who'd quickly grown to become your best friend. The ambient blue light of his room tinged the violet in his hair a shade of indigo, but left the sunset shade of his eyes more or less intact. You'd already expressed some jealousy to Levi over his sweet setup... what parts of it he's been willing to show you anyway. He'd given you the digital tour of his figurines, manga, and games collections, as well as showing you little Henry. You had no idea someone would commit to an aquatic aesthetic so hard that they’d actually sleep in a bathtub, but at the same time it felt so very… Levi. Nothing in his bedroom was like anything you'd ever seen before, like, who actually sleeps next to an aquarium tank?? Maybe his family were the eccentric type…

“Hey, Y/n! Sorry that I'm picking up late.”

“No, it’s fine! I was grabbing a snack earlier. Did something happen?”

“No, nothing important.”

You watched Levi start checking over his monitor through the screen while mindlessly twisting the black wire of your headphones between your fingertips. When you first started to play games together, these little silences between you would feel awkward and Levi would scramble to get find anything he could to fill them. To alleviate the tension, you’d play a shared playlist of your favorite otacore or ani-songs to make him more comfortable, but for the last month or so he hadn’t needed it as much. The silences were now… pleasant. You could take your time with each other like real friends could and it felt pretty nice.

Most of your offline friends knew how embarrassingly down bad you'd become for this guy. You hoped your cosplay audience hadn't picked up on it yet, but there would always be those comments that point out how you gush about him whenever he offered you a new accessory for your outfits… If you guys had a ship name, you didn’t know it'd be yet.

…

Not that you had any ideas about it or anything. You? Ship yourself with your best friend?? Absolutely not! Like, who would actually do that-?

“Y/n?”

“Huh??”

Levi's voice interjected itself into your thoughts, making you fumble with the headphone wire as you recovered.

“Hey, are you alright? You were just staring off there…”

Now back in reality, you stuttered out an embarrassed apology to your confused friend and try to smile it off.

“Oh yeah, Levi, I'm alright. It's just a long week, so I'm ready for some gaming!”

You prayed that the bubbly feeling in your chest wasn't also showing on your face when you watched his expression light up. That determined smile was more than half of the reason you agreed to these game nights of yours when he first brought up the idea. He took to giving you a good time as passionately as a great DM runs their campaign and you appreciated the hell out of him for it... Having a life on social media and being in the public eye could absolutely drain a person, but with Levi you could just relax and recharge with the stuff you loved…

“Okay, Y/n, do you have everything running?”

“Yep! Got it all installed last night.”

“Great! Go ahead and open the co-op menu and-"

His voice got cut off in your headphones by the sound of a sharp knock coming from behind him. Levi's eyes briefly grew to the size of saucers as they darted over his shoulder then back at your image onscreen.

“Levi...? What's wrong?”

“Nothing! Uh… J-just a second!”

You watched him lurch over his desk and fumble with his mouse until eventually the camera feed cut to black. You were definitely getting concerned, since Levi had almost never reacted that way to an outside noise before, but soon your worry morphed into curiosity. A sing-song voice called out through your headphones, one you had never heard before, and after checking the chat window you realized that, yep…

Levi forgot to mute the call.

“Oh Levi~! What made you think we're done talking? Is that your little friend in there??”

The man's voice was at a higher pitch than Levi's and he sounded pretty… annoyed. Or at least insistent about something. You heard the sound of door hinges swinging open, followed by Levi's much more exasperated tone.

“Go away, Asmo-gak! Why are all of you here!?”

A new voice joined the fray, this one was much softer than the other two. They spoke at a languid pace, slow like honey pouring from a bottle. Did he just wake up or something...?

“We thought you've been talking to a computer this whole time, but Mammon says that they're a real person…”

“Yeah, I’ve seen'em too! Tell'em Levi!”

That one you knew had to be Malcolm! There was no mistaking the energetic punch to his words, but who the heck was Mammon?? You didn’t recall meeting him too…

“Ugh, yes! They're real, but no you can’t all see them! We just started a new game, so go away!!”

“Uhm, Levi?”

Your question must have come through the speakers because, for moment, the sudden silence on the other end was deafening… then all hell broke loose at once.

Another voice spoke up now, one that sounded a lot deeper and almost velvety coming through your headphones.

“Was that them just now?”

Another responds, also deep, but muffled? As if they're trying to speak past a mouthful of marshmallows…

“Mmnph-‘ink so-mmmgh…”

The higher voice chimed in well over them both.

“Oh, we should go say hi!! What do you think, Levi? You can't keep teasing us like this!”

The blank screen on your monitor was starting to kill you seemingly as much as it was them… You desperately wanted some kind of explanation, but more importantly…!

“Levi, who's over there? Are those your brothers?!”

Your ears perked from the a collective gasp you heard on the other end, then the excitable one spoke again.

“They know about us???”

“NO!! N-not everything! Please leave-!!”

You'd be lying if you said that Levi's shout hadn't hurt you right then… It felt like a little crack went tink right on your heart! Had he been keeping you a secret from them this whole time? Was he embarrassed? Or did he not trust you to know too much about himself…? Was it your platform that he was scared of??? You had never broadcasted anything he hadn’t given permission about ahead if time… You wouldn't dare to dox him!! Though you could understand if that was his reasoning, the secrecy still kind of hurt…

“W-wait, Levi, I’ve always wanted to see more of your family...! Why not let them in? Please? We can still play right afterwards!”

“Huh?? But Y/n-!!”

“You heard'em, Levi! Let us through!”

A mass of shuffling filled your headphones while you waited with baited breath. You had even leaned in so close to your monitor that when the window flashed back on, you were briefly blinded by all of the colors at once! It took a few moments for you to make out all five pairs of eyes staring back through the screen. Each boy seemed to be crammed up against Levi's computer desk like lab students all forced to share the same microscope... To your surprise, not a single one of them looked like Levi or even like each other! You probably should have guessed, considering Malcom (who was seated center stage, having stole Levi's gamer chair for himself) looked nothing like him before, but you wouldn’t have guessed all 5 would differ quite as drastically… Would the sixth look that different as well?

“Uhm… hi?”

You tried to smile again to make a good impression, but it was hard to do while feeling like a living petri-dish. You were used to having eyes on you, but this was another level. Perhaps it was the added pressure of not wanting to look bad in front of a good friend's family, but it also could have also been the sheer intensity of their gaze… Levi could get this way too sometimes and it always felt like his orange-hued irises could almost see right through you... Especially if he just lost a game. In those times, his intimidating edge gave you a bit of a thrill. It'd feel like you just bested a dangerous beast in combat, but against ten eyes it was overwhelming… Each one bore right through you as if to examine your very soul…

“Huh,” a blonde one peering over Malcom's right shoulder was the first to speak up. His eyebrows were raised practically off of his forehead in surprise. “So they are real, then.”

The shortest boy, squished up against Malcom as if trying to steal center frame, clasped his hands over his heart and cooed back towards the doorway.

“Aww, Levi, look at that! You actually have a friend now!! And a real cutie, too~ Hello, hun!”

“Yeah, but why do they look like a human…?”

You watched guys instantly stiffen up as all eyes shifted towards a dark-haired boy clutching a spotted pillow just barely in view. It was hard for you to see his face, since it was only half on screen and even then some of it was behind his pillow, yet you could detect something… cold in it. He sounded annoyed, but you couldn’t place why… Was he seriously expecting you to be an AI or something?

To your surprise, the pillow guy was swiftly yanked out of frame and replaced by Levi, though you couldn’t see much of his face either. Only that he was holding onto the pillow guy's sleeved arm rather tightly as he spoke.

“Of course they're human! Not a 2D person or just a computer, but human like the rest of us… Right?”

You'd never heard such a dark edge come over Levi’s tone before. Not even in jest! It must have been rare for his brothers to hear as well, because most stared at him with equally shocked expressions. The arm in Levi's grasp yanked itself away and you heard footsteps head towards the door… but the other brothers stayed where they were. Another long silence flooded in, somethibg that felt far more uncomfortable than any you had experienced with Levi before, until a (frankly) massive dude chewing on a huge slab of jerky spoke up behind Malcolm.

“If they're nice to Levi, that's enough for me.” He inhaled the rest of the jerky into his mouth (which you didn’t quite detect him chewing) before he was already smiling at you with the kind of warmth that you'd see saved up only for the sappiest of shojo scenes. “Hello, thank you for being Levi's friend.”

The rest of the boys all exchanged glances with each other, then a similar kindness took over their faces too. Gone were the piercing stares of just a moment ago, and instead you only felt a welcoming energy radiating out from your monitor. As if sensing the change too, Levi finally came into view of the camera. He leaned down by Malcolm in the spot the pillow guy left open, grinning at you in that way only he really could.

“Y/n... These are my brothers.”

#personally i think not enough time is spent on ridiculously infatuated mcs #if you dont want to put your man in a chokehold #and burrow into his chest with your bare hands #is it even love? #come on now #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me fic #obey me scenarios #obey me nightbringer

[lupeloto]

“pretty, huh?” ficlet

basically, ian and mickey are babysitting franny when she lets it slip just how much ian talks about how pretty mickey is

“You’re gonna use this color,” Franny picks out a navy blue crayon, handing it to Mickey.

The two are sitting beside the coffee table in the den, Franny on her knees and Mickey leaned against the couch. There are about five different coloring books laid out on the dark-wood table, which now has its own little streak of purple thanks to Franny. Debbie had dropped Franny off with a few Princess and Fairy coloring books. Mickey immediately went to the little cabinet where they keep Franny’s items for the Monster Truck coloring book that he had bought for her. She beamed, insisting that they start coloring now. Ian had gone out to get lunch, so it was just them two coloring away in a comfortable silence. Franny always got so concentrated when coloring, her tongue sticking out between her lips, brows furrowed. Mickey found it absolutely endearing, it reminded him so much of Ian. A lot about Franny reminded him of Ian, including her bossy nature.

Mickey chuckles, “Can’t I choose my own color crayon, Fran?” He questions while taking the crayon she holds out to him.

“But I want you to use this one,” she says rather seriously, so Mickey complies, scribbling away with the dark blue crayon.

Ian walks through the door, take-out containers hanging off his fingers that peaked out of his gloves, big coat wrapped tightly around him, and a bright-red face.

“Jesus, it’s fucking freezing,” he says as soon as he steps inside. 

Franny seems to pay him no mind, completely concentrating on her artwork as Mickey looks ups, “Ay, I know, man. why don’t you go change into somethin’ warmer and then we’ll eat,” Mickey says softly before returning to his coloring, picking up the blue crayon that was basically a nub at this point.

“Yeah okay, I’ll be quick,” Ian sets the food on the counter before heading over to where the two sit in their own little world.

He places a quick kiss to both Mickey and Franny’s heads, “Hi Fran,” he raises his voice a little as if to say I’m right here, aren’t you excited to see me?

“Uncle Ian!” Franny squeals, finally pulling away from her coloring long enough to realize he was in the room. She jumps up, wrapping her arms around his leg tightly before returning to her picture.

That always made Mickey’s heart skip a beat; seeing him and Franny. The way Ian looked even taller next to her, how she soon figured out she couldn’t hug him while standing up, so instead she grew a habit of clinging to his leg as a warm welcome and goodbye. With that, Ian takes off to the bedroom.

A few more moments of silence pass before Franny breaks it, breaking her gaze away from her purple and green monster truck to stare at Mickey, “You’re pretty Uncle Mickey,” she says matter-of-factly before returning to her drawing. At the same time, Ian walks in, leaned against the doorway to the den, a small smile on his face at the sight of his husband and niece. 

Mickey can’t help but chuckle, looking over at Ian with his eyebrows raised because Where the hell did that come from?

“Well thanks, Little Red. You ain’t too bad yourself kid, way prettier than me,” his attempt to halt the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth miserably fails as he watches Franny giggle and bat her eyelashes at the comment.

Franny’s hand moves slowly and surely around the page, “Uncle Ian says it all the time,” she continues scribbling, “Says that you’re soooo pretty,” she giggles slightly, looking towards Ian

“Oh, ‘s that right?” Mickey raises one eyebrow and turns his head towards Ian who wears a smug grin.

Ian shrugs his shoulders, “I’ve been exposed,” he states matter-of-factly, “What can I say?”

“I have to pee,” Franny says, already bored with their conversation, jumping up from her spot and headed down the hallway.

“Wash your hands, Fran!” Ian yells after her, pushing himself off the door frame, heading towards Mickey.

“Pretty, huh Gallagher?” Mickey flashes a one-sided grin up at where Ian stands behind him, hovering over his head, a certain softness in his eyes.

Ian shrugs, “I stand by it…” Ian leans down and presses their lips together spider-man style, “Fucking beautiful,” he whispers as their mouths part, but still remain close together.

Mickey beams, a warmth that only Ian can provide spreading all throughout his body, “Yeha, you too, Red.” They kiss one more time before Franny comes running in, demanding a popsicle. They all three sit on the patio and eat their popsicle, Mickey looking on in amusement as both Ian and Franny end up with red all over their mouths and shirts by the time they’re done.

— — — — — — — — — —

these two take up so much space in my brain it’s sick and twisted! told myself i wasn’t gonna post anymore today but here i am on your dash to annoy u more about these gays😞

#ian is infatuated with how pretty mickey is!!! #they love to compliment each other it’s true they told me #they do it all the time! they think the other is absolutely stunning #mickey milkovich #gallavich #ian gallagher #shameless #gallavich headcanons #gallavich fic #gallavich fanfic #gallavich fic rec

[mqkoeyes]

this fanfic.

#sefikura #sephiroth #cloud strife #advent children #fanfic #i revisit it every few months or so and AGGGGHHG #I LOVE IT SO MUCH #THANK YOU IMAGINATIVE SPIRIT WHOMEVER YOU MAY BE #The fucking angst. give me that shit #THE CHARACTER PORTRAYALS ARE SO GOOD DON'T TALK TK ME #if i could eat this fic i would #gonna inject this shit into my veins #gonna chug it like i haven't had anythjng to drink in 5 years #gonna breathe it in like it's my oxygen #my drug #AHHHHHGGGGG IT'S SO GOOD #starts bawling #i love them so much #they're perfect your honor #i'm crazy i'm crazy i'm insane i'm bouncing off the walls i'm GROWLING AND HGAGAGGRGRGRRRRR i'm infatuated. #sefikura being the best ship in the universe sorry i don't make the rules #oh god oh fuck #don't read it while listening to emotional love songs or smth cuz TRUST you will sob your eyes out of their sockets #my eyes are watering #my love for this fic #mwah mwah mwah mwahhhh it makes me so insane

[honeybleed]

tr moots i have this mikey x reader fic but cos i like problems she’ll cheat 😭 im sorry infidelity is my guilty pleasure lol

#i’d honestly pick kakucho sawry esp w that all black fit 🤤🤤 #maybe takeomi cos i like old meat #i didn’t add mocchi cos ik u guys r gonna hoe him badly #he fine af imma stand by that #btw sanzu is really mean to reader but you’ll see when i publish that #also in the fic AT FIRST mikey is like infatuated with reader but he gets bored so he starts to treat her poorly

[rimunagenius]

Wish You Were Gay

ღ Pairing: Josette Maskin x AFAB!Straight!reader

ღ Word Count: 2k Words

ღ Warnings: RPF!! angst, hardcore pining (jojo obv), internalized homophobia, unrequited love, crippling jealousy, both preferred pronouns are used for Josette in this fic!

ღ a/n: This is based off Billie Eilish’s song ‘wish you were gay’ and I feel like i actually became a fucken poet with this. I’m sorry for the amount of therapy bills imma have to pay after this really sad fic…but also i feel like this is the perfect pining and unrequited love trope song that billie wrote imo.

ღ

ღ "Baby, I don't feel so good", six words you never understood

"I'll never let you go", five words you'll never say

Jo had this reacurring dream that you'd be here. In her bed. With her. Happy.

Everytime, you'd look to her and smile. Your one dimple on your left cheek more prominent as you layed on her chest. She'd stroke your hair, a matching smile plastered on their soft pink lips.

Josette would then say how they wished they could stay like this forever. You and her. Together. Finally happy. You'd smile, cheeks warming a soft pink, before your arms wrapped tighter around her waist, legs tangling together creating a perfectly entangled mess.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll never let you go."

That's usually where the dream ends. Waking up to cold sheets, no you by her side. Poorly dimmed room setting the precedent that her life feels just a little more empty without that part of you in it.

ღ I laugh along like nothing's wrong, four days has never felt so long

If three's a crowd and two was us, one slipped away

"Bye, you'd guys would make a cute little old lesbian couple!" Katie laughed as she watched you and Jo bickering over something so tiny. Naomi nodding their head in agreement, a small chuckle escaping their lips.

You laughed, a weird feeling settling in your stomach. You'd never even looked at Jo that way. So why would others think the opposite of you? You had a boyfriend.

Jo had noticed the look you gave her. Your joking and feigned annoyance over the small tussle, now shutting down the unserious side of you. It was because Katie had made a lesbian joke when you were straight, right?

Could you never think of her in such a way that when a joke is made, you get uncomfortable? Jo didn't want to over analyze so they laughed, albeit it was dry and short. A small pang in her chest, she wiped the tip of her nose, taking a deep breath and started to scroll on her phone.

She only had a day and a couple hours left to endure of this painful 4-day getaway friends trip. They just wanted it to be over.

ღ I just wanna make you feel okay

But all you do is look the other way

"Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay, baby?" Baby. She knew she should stop calling you that. That's something she's only ever heard him call you. Nicknames like that weren't reserverad for someone like her in your life.

"I'm okay, I could just really use a hug right now." You sighed, tears starting to well up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around her neck, her arms finding place on your waist.

"What do you need? Let me make you feel better, yeah?" Josette pulled away from you, her arms going from either side of your upper arms, to lifting your chin so you could see her. So she could look you in your pained eyes once, to see that she never wanted them to look that way again.

"Hey, you called me?" Jo recognized his voice anywhere. Your boyfriend. Of course. She should have known he'd be the first one you called. They should have known that whatever was bothering you, whoever made you cry, what ever you were struggling with, the burden was yours to carry and his to help.

How naive of Jo to think that maybe this once, you'd actually want her. Need her, to help you.

ღ I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay

I just kinda wish you were gay

The more Jo had thought about yours and hers relationship, the more she thought about just up and leaving. She hates to admit that she spent a good amount of time every now and then wondering what her life would be like without you in it.

She knew what she felt was real, she knew you wouldn't ever give her a shot. The friendship was great. Blissful. But what could she possibly stay for if whenever she was around you, the crippling feeling of longing and yearning to feel you and know you completely; all of you, was something so impossible?

The way she felt...the way she wanted you to love her. It was so strong that she prayed that you'd soon realize that maybe he wasn't the right man for you and what you needed was her. A woman.

She wished you were gay. She wished it was her you longed to be with. To feel their skin. To know them so deeply and romantically that whatever you did, you did it because you loved them. Not him.

It was wrong. It was wrong that she wished your healthy relationship that made you happy, would crash and burn like her mind, heart and soul, whenever you walked into a room. How she prayed for impending doom on two happy people so she could be the one to make you happy. It was selfish. It was wrong.

You weren't gay, but god, she wished you were.

ღ Is there a reason we're not through?

Is there a 12-step just for you?

Our conversation's all in blue

11 "heys"

Ten fingers tearin' out my hair

Nine times, you never made it there

I ate alone at seven, you were six minutes away

Josette knew the only thing holding this friendship together was her. She didn't have to stay, have to be here. She didn't need to make herself feel this way.

You had him. You spent most of your time with him, most of your guys' plans cancelled or postponed because he needed something.

As a silent lover, she watched as you made time for him. Showed up for him. Yeah, you showed up for Jo too, but never with as much love and passion as you had for him. You did actually, but just not the kind that Josette wanted. You chose him. She just wished you chose her instead.

This was no different. You had plans to meet up for lunch. This nice cafe, in the middle of both your residing areas and it was all going to happen at 2. Soon, the first five minute of waiting turned into 15. Then to 30. Multiple messages sent to you waiting for an ETA.

You responded in seconds with a short response of a emergency on his side of the family. Jo sighed, the dull and aching feeling rising in her chest again.

They had to stop thinking swooping you away from him was going to change the fact that you weren't into girls. Jo had known you caught on.

Maybe this was her punishment: All the forced proximity and trying to change something already set in stone, was rejection by the one person she sought acception from. This was you pushing her away. God how could she be so stupid.

Jo was never going to change your mind, maybe this was the only way you could tell her without breaking her heart. Letting her eat alone...be alone.

ღ How am I supposed to make you feel okay

When all you do is walk the other way?

I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay

I just kinda wish you were gay

When you started having problems with him, Jo heard about it. To Jo, it seemed that she was only here for you when he wasn’t. That wasn’t even true. It’s just the way her mind chose to see it, to be able to cope with the rejection she took in an absolute way.

She shouldn’t have let these feelings get in the way. She was setting herself up.

Josette couldn’t fathom loving anyone else with her whole being. It’d take a nuclear act of god to get her to stop her life from circling around you. The purgatory that was loving you when you couldn’t love her the way she wanted you to, was something she’d take over anyone else. The constant suffering was worth it.

You always ran to him for your romantic needs. But Jo’s heart had always ran back to you. She knew you knew. You just know she could never act on it without you setting up a block. So you did it all the time when you were around her.

Maybe in another universe or lifetime, she’d get to have you and experience different parts of you the way he did.

ღ To spare my pride

To give your lack of interest, an explanation

Don't say I'm not your type

Just say that I'm not your preferred sexual orientation

You may have looked at your boyfriend with heart eyes and the most romantic, endearment and adoration and with Josette, you looked at her the same.

Platonically binded by both your caring souls, like mindedness, and mutual interests. She was your soulmate in bestfriend form. You had certainly thought that if you had liked girls, or if Jo had been a boy, you’d love to love her in more ways than one.

But she wasn’t. Something about you two, together in this lifetime, was something that felt wrong. She was always meant to be your bestfriend. Nothing more. Josette had understood that.

She understood that it’s something you had grown up to understand was something that wasn’t socially accepted, atleast by your family. So she understood why you couldn’t pursue something romantic together.

She felt that maybe you did love her, maybe even felt the attraction, but she just wasn’t a man. The idea was unsettling to swallow at first—but it appeased her brain to know that it could happen…if the circumstances were different.

ღ I'm so selfish

But you make me feel helpless, yeah

And I can't stand another day

Stand another day

The longing was weighing down. The burden of carrying such a strong but passionate love for someone who couldn’t physically return it was starting to fuck with Jo.

She knew it was selfish to pray that you’d change your mind about your sexual orientation. To pray that you have always been that way but wanted to hide it. She prayed for any possibility that’d allow you to love her how she wished you did.

But she knew it’d never work. No matter what she said or did, nothing was going to change your mind.

She knew that; they couldn’t stand this anymore. It was becoming too much for her. The attachment and attraction blossomed more than she could’ve imagined. She needed to stop. Needed to forget you. Needed someone else.

But she couldn’t do that to you. Her body and soul couldn’t allow it. She couldn’t stand to breathe the same air as you if you weren’t breathing it together. How could she form a new connection and love someone so deeply when every part of her had already belonged to you.

Together. Together. Together. It’s all she’s ever wanted.

ღ I just wanna make you feel okay

But all you do is look the other way, hmm

I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay

I just kinda wish you were gay

I just kinda wish you were gay

I just kinda wish you were gay

It was on her face, in her eyes, everytime they looked at you. You couldn’t bare seeing Jo in it so deeply and you couldn’t return it. You never wanted someone to break Jo’s heart.

It just never occurred to you that you were the one doing it. Everytime they looked at you, they always thought the same thing.

“I just wish you were gay”

Repeated like a never ending song in her brain. Everytime she was with you, she wanted to confess the feelings that she’s been carrying ever since you guys met. It was overwhelming and heartbreaking but a privilege.

Jo would rather you break her heart a little more everyday than anyone at all. She’d settle for the possibility of her possibly being able to change your mind about girls than forget the way you made every inch of her feel.

To feel love in the most absolute way. It was a privilege to love someone like you. So it was either she had to repeat the mantra in her mind and just go on about their day, pretending everything was fine, or not have you at all. She’d choose the first one everytime.

Cause she knew…in another life, you two would have it all. You be running to her. For anything. Whether it was for comfort or romantic endeavors. She’d be the one you’d choose.

You two would be together.

#Spotify #tumblrpost #writers on tumblr #angst #unrequited infatuations #unrequited pining #unrequited love #i love josette maskin #josette maskin #josette maskin x reader #jo maskin x reader #josette maskin angst #naomi mcpherson #muna #major angst #sapphic wlw #wlw post #wlw yearning #wlw #wlw love #wlw unrequited love #wlw angst #lesbian #lesbian fic #rpf #i love muna #munagenius #muna x reader #muna band

[milyki]

how did a fic dissipate my art block.

Do I love drawing Tanjiro? I will take any excuse

Do I love drawing Zenitsu? Yes. Baby Zenitsu? Oh yes.

And yes I love drawing low quality Tengen

YET AGAIN GO READ ‘Once more, with feeling’ BY @kuwajima AMAZING AUTHOR AMAZING STORY AND AMAZING ART POTENTIAL

#Tanjiro is a siblingless sibling in Need of some more siblings #Made this in mind that he’s reminiscing about his younger siblings #Zenitsu is absolutely infatuated #Tengen can def carry him higher but this is still Mt Everest to Zenitsu’s stubby legs #Tengen doesn’t care why would he? (he cares) #Everyone wants to hold a baby Zenitsu #Inosuke is banned i assume #Zenitsu needs his ray of sunny sunshine back #Tanjiro is probably the best big brother #UGHH THEYRE SO CUTE #GO READ THIS FIC ITS AMAZING #BIG BROTHER TANJIRO LITTLE BROTHER ZENITSU ☺️☺️ #my art

[ddeongies]

y’all ready for a classic yeji falls first ryujin falls harder? no? well too bad i’m already 20k in

#you get what you get and you don’t get upset #as they say #if you thought they were idiots in situation infatuation…. you’ve got a big storm coming #ryeji #writing stuff #my fic

[creampill]

SIGHHHHHHHHHH…

…*opens a fresh word document*

#WHY IS THERE SO LITTLE #WHERE IS MY ARTEMIS FOWL CONTENT #artemis fowl #artemis fowl x reader #Also dear artemis and holly shippers: no #please. Please . #once again I am infatuated by another sickly intellectual european #creamtalks #if you want me to write this fic yell in my replies about it idk

[wri0thesley]

Hi hi, I hope you're doing wonderful ! I've wondered about your thought on something, a while back -like a really long time ago, you made a fic about a desesperate Diluc go to a brothel and look for a gem that looks just like reader to quench his thirst, and that made me wonder who do you think other than him in the genshin universe might do the same ? Don't feel pressured if that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself. Thank you for blessing us with your writing every day !!!

oh, i don't mind!!! diluc, i think, is likely to do this because he thinks himself a gentleman and he doesn't want to corrupt or ruin you, he thinks that by doing such a thing and getting out his baser instincts on someone else he can 'protect' you (and you remain on the pedestal that he's put you on). so i think the yanderes who are likely to do such a thing fall into one of three categories;

one) the ones who think of their darling as something so so precious, who are gentlemen and try to deny themselves. diluc, definitely. zhongli perhaps also. pantalone, capitano.

two) the ones who have plans, and who simply cannot yet put them into practise. these ones are simply biding their time; filling a you-shaped void until all of the things they have put into motion are able to be carried out. kaeya, albedo, ayato, baizhu.

three) the ones who are a little bit mad about how attracted they are too, and who might think that doing this will get out some of their yandere type feelings. childe, xiao, scaramouche. (it doesn't, naturally).

#nat.txt #not sfw text #yandere for ts #genshin impact posting #i also think an interesting concept for a fic is that darling *starts out* as the replacement in this way #but as the yan spends more time with them . . . their affections shift over to this courtesan/sex worker reader instead #who is of course used to infatuated paramours but something about this one . . .

[total-drama-brainrot]

do rice krispies alenoah get together? or do they have a battle to beat all battles? uhm thats probably not the best way to describe what im tryna say, but you probably get it?? uh yeah

bold of you to assume that "a battle to beat all battles" isn't them getting together 🙄

anyway noah bites alejandro again and gives him rabies and alejandro fucking dies. that's how the fic ends.

#/j #🚫 NO SPOILERS 🙅‍♀️ #anon i get why you're asking but the vagueness of their relationship is like. half of the fic's premise. #the tension between them is supposed to be up to interpretation #are they both infatuated with each other? or is noah way to Reasonably Fucking Terrified to ever return alejandro's feelings? #are alejandro's feelings even valid? or is it just possessiveness he feels? does he even know HOW to love? #(will he learn how to love in a healthy way? will he realise that his behaviour is toxic?) #ect ect. you get the idea. #rice krispies fic #replies #shitposting #no main tags we die like chris' interns

[rotisseries]

just looked at my spotify on repeat playlist and it's literally just chappell roan and songs off the tsp playlist. this has been my spring vibe

#+ infatuation by idkhow. honorary tsp song to me if I listen to the playlist I also queue up infatuation #anyway. on repeat playlist song 1 good luck babe song 2 national anthem. ok #need it known also I never listen to fic playlists this is the brainrot getting extremely severe

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Doors Closing ~Diane Lockhart xFem Reader

Summary— Reader starts at Stern Lockhart & Gardner and finds herself under Diane’s wing. What happens when Reader develops more than professional feelings for the woman…?

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: fluff and angst, unrequited feelings, lawyers, the good wife/the good fight universe, unhappy ending (is it? In some ways yeah…), etc.

Enjoy (;

2009 brought a fresh wind to Chicago. You had lived outside the city for your entire life. But you had recently moved into the city, having grown up in the suburbs and this was your big new change. What drove you to move was a job that you had been chasing before the crash. It was a Secretary position at Stern, Lockhart & Gardner. Secretary was just to get you in the door, from there, you aspired to eventually become an assistant and one day a lawyer.

Female lawyers existed but unfortunately the life of law still was very much a boys club. When your husband had still been alive, he had given you his law books to learn from. After he passed, you had resolved to pursue your dream. And after many grueling hours of studying, interviewing, and connection making, you ended up with the position. You moved into her tiny Chicago apartment the very next weekend and began working that Monday.

The job while it was a dream come true most definitely came with its own challenges. You found the environment of Stern, Lockhart & Gardner to be quite male dominant and even hostile at times. Your late husband had warned you of this however, and you had insisted that you would persevere. It had now been 4 years since your husband had passed. There would always be a part of you that would miss him, but he had made you promise not to get hung up on him in the event of his death, and you were determined to keep yourself to your word.

You quickly got into a rhythm at Stern, Lockhart & Gardner. You would arrive at work everyday at least 30 to 45 minutes earlier than was expected of you (this would be pushed even earlier as time past). And you would stay as late as it was asked of you. You had gotten more desensitized to the blatant sexism over time and tried to not take it to heart. All of your bosses were men. With the exception of a small portion of female secretaries and receptionists. You quickly discovered that those women were not your people. They had no ambition, at least your male colleagues had ambition. The one exception to the flock at the firm was the only female Name Partner, Diane Lockhart. Your favorite days were the ones where you got to interact with Ms. Lockhart.

Diane Lockhart held herself to a certain standard that no one else at Stern, Lockhart & Gardner seemed to uphold. She had worked hard to get where she was today, not many women were such renown lawyers, especially not at such a renown firm. On top of being excellent at her job, the woman always behaved with an etiquette and manner of kindness. She didn’t make the same racy jokes as her male counterparts, she didn’t gossip and giggle like your female colleagues. She was direct and to the point. She had ambition. She had guts.

When the time came around for promotions and bonuses, Diane requested you to be her personal assistant. You had been flattered, and you of course accepted. There was a mutual understanding of drive and work ethic between the two of you. You had held Diane up on a pedestal ever since you’d begun at the firm, but now for the first time, you got to know the woman behind the success.

You were now the buffer between Diane Lockhart and the rest of the firm. You ran the busy woman’s schedule, ran to grab her lunch and/or dinner, took and cataloged meetings. Both you and Diane began to relax into the routine of your working together. You got used to spending late nights together in the office, as you would insist that Diane eat. You got used to early morning coffee conversations, so early that most of the firm wasn’t even in yet.

Slowly over the years, the women began to become closer. One day, you learned that Diane had a significant other, one that she confided in you she was hoping would propose to her soon. You had immediately congratulated the other woman. But you had for some reason gotten a strange tightness in your stomache. Tight enough as to where you ended up rushing to the bathroom to throw up your lunch.

After that day, something was off with you. Your time with Diane became brighter and an even bigger highlight to your day. But your time without the other woman, it became dismal and distraught. You couldn’t sleep anymore, her mind racing with memories of Diane. You realized that the tight knot in your stomache was now a permanent thing. You had to fight to eat every day. On days where you didn’t see Ms. Lockhart, you would cry for hours on end. You drew back, if you weren’t in the office, you were in her apartment, curled up and frozen.

This went on for weeks. Until one final early morning, you drudged herself into work. Just at the sight of the other woman, you began to already perk up. You set her things down at your desk, before entering the lawyer’s office with her morning coffee. But as you extended the cup to Diane and greeted her, that was when you saw the ring on the woman’s left hand. You haphazardly dropped the coffee all over Diane’s desk, having completely forgotten about the hot drink.

Within moments, you regained her awareness and began to apologize for your clumsiness. You swiftly cleaned up the mess, before Diane began to tell you about her engagement. Your eyes softened in a mixture of happiness for her but despair for yourself. You intended to congratulate the other woman, watching her squeal about her fiancé and her future wedding. You felt like she’d been stabbed in the gut and someone had twisted the knife inside your intestines for good measure. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Your thoughts were too jumbled. The only thing you could make out, the only thing you could get out were three pesky little words: “I love you.”

How had this happened? How had your feelings slipped away from you so mistakenly? How had you messed it all up so bad? This wasn’t what your late husband had wanted for you. Was it? This wasn’t what Diane wanted, for herself or for you. But that was what you wanted, what you wanted was a fantasy however. You hadn’t wanted this. You had wanted so much more than what you had and you had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Somewhere along the way, your sights for your career changed to sights on a specific female lawyer. How could you have let herself get so far?

You tried to resign that day. But Diane wouldn’t hear of it, insisting she needed you and your good work and that she was willing to forget the transgression. The next week you took the bar. Two months later, Ms. Diane Lockhart happily became Mrs. Diane Lockhart-McVeigh, someone who you didn’t even seem to know anymore. Diane Lockhart now only existed in the figment of your imagination.

~~~

Diane Lockhart Masterlist ~Coming Soon (;

#Diane Lockhart x reader #Diane Lockhart fluff #Diane Lockhart angst #diane lockhart #christine baranski #the good wife #the good wife x reader #the good wife fluff #the good wife angst #the good wife season 1 #the good wife season 5 #kurt mcveigh #the good wife fanfiction #the good wife fic #the good fight x reader #the good fight angst #the good fight fluff #the good fight fanfiction #the good fight fic #the good fight #Stern Lockhart & Gardner #Lockhart & Gardner #love #unrequited love #unrequited feelings #unrequited crush #unrequited romance #unrequited affection #unrequited pining #unrequited infatuations

[general-dweebous]

Listen- listen, think Miguel O’Hara but Pride & Prejudice vibes

Right?????

#what dynamic is this because it’s one of my favorites #maybe it’s just my favorite #I love brooding men #I love subtle yearning #i love when a man is horribly infatuated with a woman #I just want him to want me #but I want him to be real #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara #miguel fluff #miguel fic idea #pride and prejudice