#with just happened twice but what the hell

[yunhoszn]

to hell with it

pairing jung wooyoung x f!reader word count 5k genres angst﹒smut﹒teeniest bit of fluff here and there warnings 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, all lowercase bc she was supposed to be short and vibey and… that just did not happen, mentions and use of weed, very strict parents, lowkey fuckboy wooyoung lol, lots of kissing, marking, scratching, wooyoung has a fascination with reader’s tits lol, nipple play, no real foreplay, unprotected sex, cowgirl and missionary style, dacryphilia, exhibitionism kinda, quite a few references to religious-ish themes, unrequited love in a sense? i got carried away im so sorry

summary you could draw several heaven-hell parallels from this moment in time, from the way wooyoung buries himself inside of you, and you always return to the idea that he’s straight from hell.

more ok… like i said… i got carried away oopsie 😝 this was a request from my lovely wife of 20+ years @juyofans <3 i’m sorry if i strayed too far from the original idea,,, it just happened ok 🙇 also a huge thank u to @bro-atz for betaing for me i LOVE U SO MUCH!! that’s all lets keep this note short and sweet :P reblog if u enjoyed!

@atzhouse

“shit.”

the curse slips from your mouth so naturally upon the discovery that your stash is completely finished. you rummage through the drawer one more time in case you might’ve missed something, but alas, you’ve run into the worst possible scenario. no more weed.

it’s not like you were dependent on it. but it was the end of a long week and it happened to be one of those days. an edible, a long rip from your bong, or a hit from a blunt wrapped with your pretty pink rolling paper sounded like fucking heaven right about now. 

you still lived at home, though, and your parents had no clue that you dabbled with marijuana, so you had to keep everything hidden in your room. unfortunately, it was just too expensive to get your own place in this day and age. and despite the fear of getting caught deeply instilled in you, you were extremely desperate. 

and well, desperate times called for desperate measures…

“hey, wooyoung…” you speak into the receiver. 

your relationship with the guy was complicated. it had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with you. he’d been your plug for a couple years now, and his pretty face made it really hard not to develop a crush. every time you bought from him, you always tried to get a lot at once so you could space out how often you saw him to make things easier on your heart. 

the two of you went to high school together, and the first time you reached out in regards to your secret habit was awkward. to say the least. all of your friends had purchased something from him at least once or twice, so they assured you that he was the real deal. but you had only ever mooched off of them and didn’t have the faintest idea what you were supposed to say or do. (what with having dictators for parents and the lot.)

you remember sending him a dm in the most cryptic way possible. he laughed it off, thinking about how cute it was that you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. but, like every other occasion in which you’d spoken to him, he had a girlfriend at the time. the first time it was haeun, then there was jisu, and it was kind of hard to keep up with the names after that. his patience was endearing, though, and it always left you wanting more out of your conversations. (which is, understandably, what attracted you to the guy.)

he was definitely not a one-partner, commitment type of guy, and that’s all you could ever want out of someone. you thought keeping distance to halt any feelings from growing was the smartest decision. if you didn’t get close to him, it would help squash whatever flame burned beneath your chest. 

but now it was time for that little crush to unearth itself, as it does whenever you see him.  

“hey, y/n, what’s up?” you can hear the smile in his voice, the one that has your insides melting and your panties nearly dropping to the floor in an instant. it’s almost cocky, like he was expecting your call. and he probably was, all things considered.

“um…“ you stop yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and biting your lip, tilting your head back. “are you free to do a drop right now?”

the digital clock on your nightstand read 9:28 PM and your parents wouldn’t be home for another hour or so, having left for the movies a little over an hour ago. (that was the only reason why you were even thinking of pulling something as idiotic as this.) 

not even were you just not allowed to have boys over. you weren’t allowed to have people over period, at least not if your parents were out. in spite of being a grown adult, they still managed to enforce strict rules and curfews on you. you were breaking so many by making this fucking phone call. 

Do Not Think About Talking To Boys Under Our Roof. 

“yeah, actually. i have to do another in the area so that works out perfectly. i can be there in ten.” he answers and that stupid smile pops into your head again. 

Absolutely No Strangers Allowed In The House Without Us Present. 

“okay cool— wait, you remember my address?” your brow scrunch together, the confusion boiling up inside of you. he snorts, some shifting audible in the background. 

No Alcohol Unless We Are Present, Absolutely No Drugs Allowed. 

“yeah? why wouldn’t i?” he asks so nonchalantly, you almost miss it. “i’ll be there soon, babe.”

he ends the call before you can even say anything, still holding your phone to your ear. your jaw hangs open and heat begins to bloom behind your cheeks. this was exactly why you were avoiding him as long as possible. jung wooyoung was a natural flirt, and you were very delusional. 

this was fine, right? all you had to do was exchange the goods and money, then send him on his way. it would be like nothing ever happened, like no one was ever here. your parents would be none the wiser and you could finally relax. it would be just like when you were sneaking around in high school, having him drop when you didn’t have a car—

fuck.

you could’ve just met him somewhere instead, huh? you didn’t have the issue of being car-less anymore. you could’ve told your parents you were running out to grab some things from the store and hid it in your bags in case they were home before you. could’ve done literally anything else except act this irrational. 

This Is An Honest and Trustworthy Household — No Lying Will Be Tolerated. 

maybe, subconsciously, you’ve been wanting to see him in this setting again. there was a thrill in breaking your parents rules. you supposed something special, something exciting sparked under your skin all those times you snuck into the backyard to meet with wooyoung through the side gate. but right now, you’re pacing inside your bedroom. this wasn’t the time to get poetic and reminisce about being a schoolgirl with a crush. 

you were bulldozing through just about everything on your parents’ list of Do Nots and you feel like you should be more anxious about it. for some reason you’re less afraid of pissing them off. you’re entirely too concerned with looking good for wooyoung, and you don’t even hear the shrill sound of your phone ringing.

wooyoung’s contact lights up the screen, sending all sorts of panic signals to your brain. you severely underestimated how long ten minutes was, and also how long you’d been standing in front of the mirror gawking at yourself like a damn fish out of water. this was embarrassing. you were better than this, god, you were so much better than to lose yourself like this over a man. but jung wooyoung somehow made all rhyme and reason escape you like he was some sexy version of the pied piper.

before you realize it, your feet have carried you down the stairs and to the front door. on the other side stand wooyoung, his backpack slung over his shoulder. he’s dressed in a red zip up hoodies and some baggy jeans. his hair is longer than when you last saw him, long enough to have some of the strands tucked loosely behind his ears. you think you’re entranced by his visuals alone, and then he opens his mouth.

”told ya i remembered.” his words drip with that charisma that sucks you in further, deeper, into the chasm you kept trying to avoid.

”uh— c-come in,” you usher him into your house and up the stairs into your room, just in case. “my parents aren’t home, but i don’t know if my neighbors are watching or something. and just in case they get back earlier, it’s easier to hide you in here than anywhere else.”

wooyoung nods with a snort, eyes wandering around the bedroom you’ve had since you were two years old. he’s never been inside of your house before, much less inside of your room. it’s very you; various posters littering the walls, makeup and skincare products cluttered around your vanity, comfy-looking sheets.

Definitely No Boys Allowed In Your Room.

“you know, y/n, i was pleasantly surprised when you called,” he shrugs off his bag, setting it on the foot of your bed, dragging his finger along the footboard. “i was starting to miss my favorite customer.”

just about everything but standing right here sounded ideal to you. if there were miraculously a sniper stationed on the roof of the house next to yours, you hoped you were in his line of sight and he would take you out. it was as if he knew. he knew exactly what his effect on you was, and that was absolutely perfect, now wasn’t it?

“your— huh?” you’re sure you sound stupid, especially so when he laughs, unzipping his backpack to take out what he was here for. the smell alone practically recalibrates your system and reboots you. wooyoung notices.

”we’ve never smoked together, have we?” he asks, pulling out the tube he was looking for. it’s about an eighth, which is less than what you usually buy from him, but you’re in no position to complain. you shake your head ‘no’ as he hands it to you, before pulling out another and doing the same thing. you raise an eyebrow at him.

”this is—“

”no, i know,” he purses his lips with a nod, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth and swiping across the bottom one. “consider it a gift, for being so loyal to me all these years.”

you guffaw in disbelief. what the fuck?

”wooyoung, you can’t possibly—“

”just let me smoke you out this once. that’s all i ask in return,” he seats himself on the edge of your bed. “and we’ll even use my stuff. you can save yours for later. i’ll make it worth your while.”

you would be cutting it really close to the time your parents were supposed to be home. but he was so tempting. and you were so weak. so, so pitifully weak.

”okay…” you let yourself say. you let yourself divulge just this once. “but, remember—“

”yes yes, your parents. do you think this is my first rodeo?” he laughs, pulling out a little plastic baggie that appears to have pre-ground weed in it. almost like… he was anticipating this? when he reaches into his backpack for what you assume is wraps, you jump to grab your pink rolling paper. you’d been so excited to use it, you weren’t going to let this opportunity go to waste.

batting your lashes at him is the only way you know how to convince him, though it doesn’t really take much convincing. your rolling skills still weren’t the best, despite doing this as long as you have, so you watch in awe as wooyoung does it. his fingers move expertly, and you have to blink away the thoughts threatening to overthrow the sane ones that have been struggling to keep afloat.

wooyoung fishes for the lighter in his pocket, red like the color of his jacket. he lights the blunt and holds it carefully between his fingers. you think he’s going to take the first hit, but then he’s holding it to your lips, gesturing for you to do it. “ladies first.” he throws in with that obnoxiously attractive laugh of his. you hesitantly follow his lead, sitting beside him, then inhaling and filling your chest. 

your exhale isn’t as graceful as you hoped it would be, a couple coughs coming out of you, but it was a strong hit. he rubs his free hand up and down your thigh to soothe you, hitting it himself. he’s definitely a lot more experienced than you, in what he does and how he does it, breathing it out into the atmosphere. your room is a little foggy now and you have half the mind to crack open a window, however, you’re hyper aware of his hand on your thigh. and you don’t want it to go away. 

If Any Of These Rules Are Broken, You Risk Being Kicked Out.

it’s calm for a few minutes, just the two of you rotating the blunt in comforting silence, his hand still branding its place on your thigh. and then his thumb starts to move. it circles into your bare skin gently, kneading mindlessly. you almost let out a whine, but you catch yourself, concealing it as a cough instead.

“you like me, don’t you, y/n?” wooyoung asks, puffing out a thick white cloud and pouting. “that’s why you buy a lot from me at once. that’s why i sometimes only see you once a month.”

the question catches you so off guard, you almost grab the pink blunt by the spark. he sets it in your ashtray, conveniently placed on one of your bedposts. you stare at him blankly, because how fucking perceptive do you have to be to figure that out? your crush was probably a little more than obvious, sure, but the avoidant tendency you had couldn’t possibly be linked to that. not unless he truly knew you like the back of his hand. 

he leans back onto his palms with a snicker, carding his fingers through his hair. the way he’s positioned allows you to glimpse at a bit more of his chest from the partially unzipped jacket. the only thing you see is that it’s bare, and your brain short circuits. it was already frying itself when he called you out, now there wasn’t a single functioning cell up there. 

“i’m high like sixty percent of the time, i see everything. i know everything.” he answers your unspoken inquiry. and well, that may be true, but it’s not like you’re doing much to refute with the way you’re ogling at him. (you were a horny high, unfortunately.) 

“what—“ you swallow, suddenly all too aware of how close you’re sitting, of how his grip on your thigh is a little more primal. “what if i said no? what then?”

“i’d think you were a liar,” he smiles, that fucking smile you can picture in your head even through a phone call. “and i don’t like being lied to.”

“so it’s a good thing i haven’t said no yet, right?” you breathe, voice entirely too stable for the situation. his hand rises higher on your thigh, the tip of his index finger brushing under your shorts. you glance down at it, eyes already heavy lidded as they observe the way it drags across your skin. fuck. 

“mhm,” he hums, gauging your reaction to his touch. “it’s very good.”

you’re losing your patience the longer you sit there, tortured by wooyoung’s hand searing on your thigh. your heart seems to beat faster and you feel like you can tell with the rise and fall of your chest picking up in speed. his lips on yours is all that you want, all that you need, and under this spell (the intoxication swimming through your bloodstream), you’re willing to accept the consequences that may come with it. 

a gasp escapes you when his nail scrapes along the side of your leg with the pressure of a feather. it’s overwhelming, to say the least. you want more and more and more, and then so much more until you can’t take it, but part of you is still insecure that he’ll leave you strung out on a clothesline if you indulge. you’re beyond thinking about the repercussions if you’re caught. you’re focused on the repercussions of being hurt if you give in. 

but enough is enough. 

placing your hand over his own, you slip it under your t-shirt where you’ve been braless this entire time. wooyoung’s eyes widen and you grab one of his hoodie strings, yanking him closer to you. your noses brush and your eyes meet, a silent ask for permission to finally play into what you’ve both been waiting for. 

you don’t really give him a second to rethink it.

your lips connect in a rough, messy kiss that has you believing in the existence of a god. one that’s granted what you’ve been dreaming of for years. maybe after this you’ll start praying before bed again, especially if it always rewards you this well. 

his mouth slots against yours like it’s the missing piece of a puzzle, your tongues tangling and your teeth nearly clashing. wooyoung’s hand on your chest regains its own control, squeezing your breast and flicking his thumb over a perked nipple. his other hand grips your waist, pulling you onto his lap. your knees dig into the mattress, hands cupping under his jaw and then entwining in his hair. 

you sigh into his kiss, obsessed with this length on him. you’re sure he feels the same when he groans after you tug on it, deepening the kiss if possible. the sigh turns into a moan when he guides your hips into a circular motion, grinding you down on him to create a bit of friction and get the ball rolling. 

he knows you don’t have a lot of time, maybe an hour tops, but fuck he wishes he could take his time with you. he wished he could explore your body and learn every single thing you liked and didn’t like, and use it all to his advantage. his senses are heightened so he’s keenly aware of your every sound, of each whine that escapes you. 

wooyoung’s mouth travels from your own, along your jaw, and down your throat, nipping and sucking so he leaves his mark on you wherever he can. your lips part with a soft moan when he finds the sensitive spot on your neck. his hand is still in your shirt, kneading and massaging your tits like it was second nature for him. 

your high has reached its peak, and you’re starting to get light headed from how good everything feels. if he didn’t touch you where you needed him most soon, you feared you might finish prematurely, and after all that you’ve been through to get to this point, you really cannot handle that tonight. thankfully, he seems to read your mind. 

“i would love to make up for lost time, but i don’t think we can right now,” he pants into your skin, hands everywhere but somehow nowhere all at once. “let me just—“

“stop yapping and just fuck me, wooyoung, you’re wasting precious time,” you groan, going straight for the zipper of his jacket. you push the red material off of his shoulders in one go, practically pawing at the button of his jeans. he laughs at your impatience, but knows you’re right. 

“well, when you put it like that, i don’t feel bad for the disgusting things i wanna do to you,” he teases, helping you pull your shirt over your head. “gonna fuck you so good, you’re gonna wanna see me more than once a month.”

the call out is crazy, but you don’t have the mental capacity to argue with him, head tossing back when he takes one of your tits into his mouth. you scrape your nails down the expanse of his chest and abdomen, a reprieve to the static buzzing throughout your body with wooyoung’s lips all over you. his teeth sink into your collarbone and you nearly lose your sanity. this was it, there was no going back now that you’ve fallen under his spell. 

his skilled fingers make quick work removing your shorts and you’re so beyond restless, that he has a bit of trouble getting them down your legs. he stills your hips firmly, practically scolding you when he says, “sit still, pretty, i’m not going anywhere.”

it’s a weird reaffirmation, and in a way it calms your erratic mind. you finally let go of those reservations and allow yourself to submit to these feelings you’ve harbored for years. the heat of wooyoung beneath you is enough to make you squirm again, needing him inside of you before you start crying. (though judging by what he’s said so far, you think he’d like that.)

“god, i need you so bad,” you whine, lips locking with his once more. you speak the words into his mouth and they hold all the subtlety of an excavator, desperation hanging off of each syllable. “please…”

you can feel, rather than see, the conniving smile that graces his features, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. he’s dangling your desire in front of you like a ball of yarn with a cat, the bed of his nails dragging along your hips slowly and tortuously. you reach down to cup his erection through his boxers and that’s what spurs him on, dropping his mischievous act in favor of gifting you what you’ve been asking for so nicely.

wooyoung pushes your underwear to the side, kicking off his boxers so he’s bare for you. part of you is way more excited than you should be to fuck him raw, for the first time nonetheless. he leans back slightly and watches as you hover over his cock, sitting on it gently. he’s definitely on the longer side, longer than the other guys you’ve been with— not that there were very many to compare him to. he fills you up just right, tapping that sweet crook of your pussy when he sheathes entirely. 

the moan that breaches the sound barrier fights itself from deep in your chest, tickling his ears and forcing out one of his own. his grip on your hips tightens as you begin to move. it’s more of him moving your body for you, not that you’re complaining at all. less work for you.

with each bounce on his cock, your bed squeaks and it wouldn’t be such a problem if you didn’t also hear the front door open downstairs. your eyes widen almost comically, meeting wooyoung’s with a fear so intense that it nearly scares him too. gratefully, he’s been in this situation before. he holds a finger up to his lips to shush you, simultaneously flipping the two of you so your back is flat on the bed and his feet are planted on the floor.

you’re glad you had the clear mind to lock your door when you came up to your room. you don’t know if it’s because it’s wooyoung, or maybe you’re just into it, but you feel yourself getting more turned on as he continues to fuck you despite your parents being home. he covers your mouth with his hand, rocking his hips into yours with a purpose. his free hand slithers between the two of you, thumb rubbing calculated circles into your clit.

”take it,” he rasps into your ear, nipping the lobe softly; a contrast to what’s tumbling out of his mouth. “take it like the good girl you are.”

at that same moment, there’s a knock on your bedroom door. wooyoung doesn’t stop, in fact, he speeds up his pace, pushing your thigh to your chest so he plunges deeper into your cunt. he’s evil, pure evil.

”y/n, are you in there?” your mother asks.

”y-yes,” you gasp, willing your voice to stay steady. “i was getting ready to go to s-sleep.”

“you sound off… are you feeling okay?” she expresses her concern and you look to wooyoung for help.

you bite down harshly on your lower lip when he leans down to suck on one of your tits instead, still very roughly snapping into you. he urges you to say something anyway, so you can at least get them to leave you alone. “y-yes! i’m fine! i was just looking f-for my pajamas!”

he laughs lowly so only you can hear, gazing at you through his lashes and whispering, “should we tell her they’re on your floor?”

your mother doesn’t question you any further. ”okay… goodnight, sweetheart.”

”goodnight!”

her footsteps get quieter as she walks away from your door. the shit-eating grin on wooyoung’s face contributes to the growing ache in the pit of your stomach more than it pisses you off. unfortunately he just had that effect on you. it was hard to be mad at him when he made you feel like you were lit ablaze, fire burning all the way to the tips of your fingers.

“look at you, sweetheart,” you hate that the pet name has you clenching around his length. his lips trail down your body, worshiping it like you were his own personal goddess. “you’re taking my cock so perfectly.”

if you could scream, you would. you’d be as loud as possible so your whole block knew who was fucking you this good. you’d chant his name like a prayer, which was ironic considering he was, in a sense, more like an incubus. you could draw several heaven-hell parallels from this moment in time, from the way wooyoung buries himself inside of you, and you always return to the idea that he’s straight from hell. the way he lures you in, like the serpent with eve in the garden of eden. he has you turning your back on all forms of reason. 

but this inebriation, this sweet poison coursing through your bloodstream as applies practiced pressure to your clit, has your whole being soaring. you could care less about the trouble that comes with it, especially when it has your back arching off of your mattress and into his chest. 

your lips pry open in a silent moan when he presses up against that same spongy nook in your pussy. tears well in your eyes as they roll back, spilling down the sides of your cheeks. wooyoung kisses them away and fucks into you harder, inching closer and closer towards what you’re already on the precipice of. 

having gone nonverbal after nearly getting caught, it requires so much energy for you to croak out, “‘m so close, woo, so so close…”

he hums approvingly, back at your mouth now. his lips mold with yours so smoothly and your fingers tangle in his hair so easily. you want this forever, to be his in more ways than one. but after tonight, you don’t know how likely that is to happen, and you’ll let yourself be satiated by this one time. 

you’re lost in the sensation of his kiss, disappearing in the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of your cunt without restriction. and maybe this would’ve been so different had you not been high. maybe this wouldn’t have happened at all had you been sober. your vision is hazy and your head is clouded, but you’ve never felt so liberated. 

wooyoung grazes his nose against yours, a stark contrast in the behavior he’s exhibited tonight. even as he does so, his lower half is still pounding into you without mercy. and for some reason, that tenderness is what has you slipping through the cracks. your orgasm washes over you with no warning, crashing and colliding into your being almost violently. 

the fluttering of your walls around his cock has wooyoung finishing right behind you, lashes skimming the tops of your cheeks in butterfly kisses that prolong the climax of your release. it’s much more intimate than you expected, your heart swelling and your body shivering with its implications. he slows his pace to something steady, something that just metaphorically holds your hand through your orgasm. 

as you recover from the weight of it all, you realize that you’re still crying. wooyoung attempts to swipe away your tears with his thumbs, but when he notices that they aren’t stopping, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. he slides out of you and back into his boxers, scouring your bedroom floor for your t-shirt. he sits you up gently and cups your jaw in his hand.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, uncharacteristically serious. you’re used to him being playful and joking about everything, so for him to show genuine concern about your emotions means a lot. a lot.

“i’m okay— i’m fine, i’m just being weird.” you dismiss his worries though, since it’s true. he doesn’t owe you anything and you don’t want to guilt him into anything just because your crush is a little heavier than the schoolgirl crush he’s made it out to be. he shakes his head. he’s not having any of that.

”no, you’re upset about something. don’t water yourself down like that.” you don’t like that this is fueling your delusions, don’t like that you want him so much more than you thought you could. and maybe you could’ve stopped yourself, had you not looked at him. your gaze traces from the beauty mark under his eye to the way his hair frames his face. 

“i want something i can’t have,” is what you settle on, swallowing down that bitter pill that you’ve been avoiding tonight. “and i think i’m finally coming to terms with it.”

wooyoung searches your expression for thicker substance, as if that will hint towards a clearer answer than what you’ve given him. he finds it in that painfully sad smile of yours. he finds it in the heartache swirling in the pools of your irises. you know he didn’t mean to lead you on. it’s not his fault, really. you understood what you were getting yourself into. none of the blame can be placed in his hold, because it doesn’t belong to him.

”i should go,” he says after a long stretch of silence. “before either of us get into any trouble.”

you watch as he dresses himself quickly and exits through the window, taking your heart along with him. but it would be okay. you wouldn’t have to see him for another month anyways. 

at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you reignite the blunt sitting in your ashtray.

© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

#atzhouse #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez wooyoung #ateez jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #yunhoszn

[dr3amofagame]

c!dream and self destruction ... thinking thoughts. head in hands.

#what goes inside pandora's box if not all the evil in the world #what is staged finale if not a villain's defeat #dream starts setting himself on fire the first day of the prison and tells sam 'all about exile' within the week #staged finale involved him dying twice and whatever experimentation happened before it #to give him said lives back probably involved dying a hell of a lot more times #c!dream is ruthless to everyone including himself yes. but also he is disproportionately ruthless to himself in brutal ways #that honestly kinda extend beyond just Using Himself As A Tool you know? ??

[hearts4golbach]

HI POOKS LOVE YOUR WORK, maybe a Johnnie fic where he shows fem!reader how to play guitar, and lead to some smut (if you're comfortable with it ofc) THANKS HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT

The Fretting Hand.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

a/n: I read this request sooo wrong, but it's still relatively the same idea. I'm so sorry 😭

warnings: smut, fingering, bickering, enemies to lovers kinda, (only y/n receiving)

Jake: "They say you should never have wings on the first date with a girl."

Johnnie: "That's true because when you're gonna go finger -"

the strumming of Johnnies' guitar was incessant. jakes snores weren't favorable conditions either. but you let him have a pass cause he was actually a decent person. johnnie, on the other hand, was far from even being your friend.

you put on a fake smile and maintained a friendship on camera, but off camera, it was constant bickering. you two couldn't stand each other. it was funny. Your annoyance with each other had no motive behind it. to be fair, it was everything about him. his face made you angry just to look at. of course, you thought he was the finest man you had ever seen, but he still irritated the hell out of you.

scrolling on the internet wasn't helping. most nights, you could block out all of the excess noise just fine. tonight was way different. you tossed and turned, trying to at least find a more comfortable angle. you never usually stayed up past 11, which was the time, because of your busy schedule. you groaned quietly into your pillow before getting up out of your bed.

you wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water, downing it before reusing the bottle and filling it up in the sink.

even downstairs, you could still hear johnnie screwing around on his guitar. you'd admit, johnnie was a talented guy, but seriously? at 11 pm? you couldn't stand it.

you stomped up the stairs into his room. you knocked twice before throwing open the door. "do you ever know when to shut the fuck up? I haven't been able to sleep at all." you scolded, even though you knew your restlessness wasn't his fault.

your eyes wandered down to his hand that was still placed on the fret board. his middle and ring fingers were placed in a certain chord formation, which just so happened to flaunt the veins and tattoos on his hand.

"My bad." johnnie responded. he noticed your eyes wandering before glancing down at his hand himself. "What?"

"Nothing, just -" you struggled to find the words, your mind corrupted with other thoughts. you felt your face begin to heat up. "Just be quiet."

his lip twitched into a smirk. he placed his guitar down back onto the stand. "Are you sure that's all you came in here for?"

you hesitated before nodding. the cat has definitely got your tongue now. you wanted to turn to leave, but you were frozen. the low light of his lamp mixed with the full moon in the sky was playing tricks on your mind. there was no way you'd actually fuc-

"y/n?" johnnie snapped his fingers. God, his fingers.

"Yeah, sorry." You took a step back before glancing towards the door.

his eyebrows furrowed together. "You've never apologized to me before." he chuckled, "seriously, what's up?" heat had slowly been growing between your legs. johnnie stood up and walked over to you. you were face to face now, and it was almost guaranteed he could see your beet red face. "well? if you've got another problem, fucking spit it out."

you realized quickly this was about to go in a completely different direction. "make me."

"yeah? i bet you'd like that," his palm met your cheek, pulling your plump bottom lip down with his thumb. he took a step forward as you stumbled back, your back hitting the wall.

"and i bet you would even more." and with that, he smashed his lips against yours.

you absolutely hated how soft his lips were. the kiss was rough and needy, and your teeth clashed against his occasionally. your hands clawed at his shoulders, digging your fingers into him. he quietly moaned against your lips, the feeling of pain sending adrenaline throughout his veins. he needed you, and you needed him just the same.

he wrapped his hands around your thighs and lifted you up. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing your needy cunt into his growing boner. Johnnies hands trailed up your thighs and gripped your ass, digging his fingers in so hard you figured there'd be bruises in the morning.

"God, always so fucking needy." he spat. you grabbed his chain and pulled him in again, crashing your lips onto his.

he laid you back on the bed, crawling in between your legs and hovering over you. "I bet you've wanted to see me like this for so long." you teased, trying to get a rise out of him.

he rolled his eyes, flipping his messy hair out of the way. "I could say the same for you. don't act like I can't hear those pretty moans late at night. sometimes I even hear my name. I'm not deaf, fucking slut."

you were gagged, not knowing a rebuttal to that comment. instead, you kissed him again.

his hands trailed down your body, playing with the waist band of your pajama pants. he quickly pulled them off, tossing them on the floor next to the bed.

your purple lace panties hugged your hips and ass perfectly, making him shudder at the sight. his hand moved to your clothed clit. he applied pressure, making you wince as you bucked your hips up into his hand.

"so fucking soaked. shit," he whispered, pulling your underwear down and tossing them on top of your pajama pants.

his hand collected your slick as he rubbed his fingers through your folds gently. you quietly moaned under his touch.

"you wanna tell me now? only good girls get what they want." he whispered in your ear, nipping at your neck.

"please, fuck," you pleaded, bucking up onto his hand again. "your fingers,"

he dipped his middle finger inside of you, just barely thrusting inside. "what about them?"

your hand slapped over your mouth as you moaned at the sudden feeling inside of you. "The way you play the guitar. God, it's so fucking h-hot." you said breathlessly, "please, johnnie."

he slipped his ring finger inside of you, quickening the pace. "What makes you even think you deserve this, huh?" Both his fingers were all the way inside of you.

"shit, please. don't be a bitch." you mustered the strength to insult him back. it turned Johnnie on more than you could even imagine.

"I'm not the one who treats you like a dog, am i?" he sped up his pace, spreading your legs wider. "maybe I can fuck some common sense into you."

your back arched, "shit, then maybe don't act like one."

"you're so fucking insufferable. maybe this will bring you back to reality." he curled his fingers as your walls squeezed him. "you know what I think? I think you act that way because of how badly you want me, you just don't wanna admit it."

you let out a low moan, trying to catch your breath. "in your wildest dreams."

"and if you didn't, we wouldn't be here right now. and you wouldn't be squeezing my fingers like this." his other thumb moved to your sensitive nub, rubbing it to match the pace of his fingers. "why don't you just admit it?"

"fuck you." you spat between moans.

"I'm sure you would." he sped up his pace even more, his fingers thrusting in and out of you at a relentless pace. "prove to me you deserve to cum, or you're going back to your fucking room. if I even fucking hear you finishing, it won't be good."

he pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you on the edge. you wiped sweat off your forehead as you whimpered. "fucking fuck. okay fine. you're right. God, I've wanted you for so fucking long." you replied breathlessly. "please, johnnie. I'll be good from now on. just let me-"

his fingers entered your tight pussy again, making you moan loudly. his thrusts were relentless, curling his fingers at the perfect spot inside of you. you writhed under his touch, endless strings of curses and moans came out of your mouth.

"I've wanted you since I first saw you." he admitted, "but you were such a fucking bitch. it turned me on, though. I'm not really complaining." he added pressure to your clit on top of everything else.

he kissed your inner thighs as you felt the knot in your stomach begin to tighten. "johnnie, I'm gonna cum-"

"let go, baby." he wet noises of his fingers inside of you filled the room, along with your moans.

your climax hit you like a truck. your legs quaked as Johnnie helped you ride out your high. you went limp on his bed, breathing heavily. he laid next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

whenever you had recovered, you rolled over and climbed on top of him. "your turn."

#fanfiction #fanfic #johnnie guilbert #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert x you #jake webber #johnnie and jake #johnnie guilbert smut #smut #oneshot #hearts4golbach

[curufiin]

Hear Me Out.

So we all know Jirt has a vendetta against me I headcanon Curufin as being a very meticulous gift giver. He likes to give meaningful gifts, something someone may not expect or even appreciate in the moment, but years down the line they fully realize just how much thought he’s put into said gift. While this makes Curvo a favorite for receiving gifts from, this also means he has several weeks a year dedicated to agonizing over what kind of gift he should give. He can’t do the same thing twice. It has to be unique, it has to be thoughtful, and the birthday person needs to LOVE IT OR ELSE.

Well, Maglor’s birthday happens to be coming up.

Curufin, of course, knows that everybody and their dog is going to give Maglor either instruments, or something related to music. And of course, why not? He’s not Macalaurë for no reason. But this gets heavily in the way of new gifts. He can’t just make a new harp and call it a day, and he’s also made replacement strings for Maglor’s instruments already. He’s no good at composing, jewelry seems too impersonal, and he’s just realized that he really doesn’t know what Maglor actually likes.

Thus, Curufin starts freaking out.

Like hell he’s going to tell his brother, “hey. I don’t actually know what you like that isn’t music. Please tell me what to get you.” That would be like public humiliation. Instead, he continues to freak out for the next two days, until he gets an idea— an extremely stupid idea, but it’s the only one he has, so he gets to work. It combines his love for metals with Maglor’s love for music, gingerly set in an intricately carved wooden box. The song is just as carefully chosen: not a song that Maglor has composed, but the one which inspired him to pick up composing in the first place.

And as he makes sure the wind up mechanism works propery, he admires his creation: music in a box. Curufin can’t say he’s entirely happy with it, or that he’s even sure Maglor would like it beyond a need to be polite, but he has a reputation to keep up.

Thankfully, the birthday passes as soon as it arrived, and Maglor seemed pleased (and possibly even entranced) by the music that he had stuffed in a box. Curufin benefits most from this, of course: he could just stamp down new songs, make bigger and grander boxes with longer combs for more notes, and bam, brand new birthday present.

TLDR: Curufin invented the music box because he was out of ideas for birthday gifts for Maglor.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion #curufin #maglor #sons of feanor #archi screaming #i think curvo deserves to make things too. just maybe not magical artifacts

[c00kieguy]

hai :3c (regarding your long distance argenti post; i got lazy at the end sorry huhu)

imagine, one day, he doesn't reply all of a sudden.

imagine one day, late in the evening, you're waiting for argenti's usual goodnight message—either in the form of honeyed, poetic words that could be translated into ballad or the sound of his smooth-as-velvet voice that you could listen to for hours on end.

imagine, falling into uneasy sleep as you can no longer force your eyes open trying to stay awake awaiting your lover's fleeting words reserved for you and only you.

imagine waking up in the morning, immediately turning on your phone in hopes that argenti was perhaps too occupied to send you a message (or, messages) last night—in the past, he has, so hopefully this was one of those cases.

imagine, after a very long day with zero replies from your one and only, there was still radio silence on his end, your messages growing ever more frantic.

a day grows into two, then three, then four, then five.

and then five days becomes two weeks.

at this point, you may as well be growing grey hairs from all the stress you've accumulated worrying about what the hell happened to your boyfriend. he's warned you about the possibility of not being able to contact you for periods at a time due to "certain circumstances"... whatever they were.

but there was also a slim chance of the other possibility of him embarking danger on his journeys out across the stars. you know him—he can be overdramatic, corny.

and reckless.

you perish the mere thought as the doorbell rings; once, then twice.

you slowly cross your abode to the entrance, confused. you aren't expecting anybody today, nor did you order anything. thinking none of it, hoping for a well-rounded distraction you twist the knob open only to be met with a bushel of familiar bright red hair and the scent of roses.

motionless you stare, slack-jawed and silent as you take him in.

you now see that his red hair is ever so unkempt, mussy and tangled; his fragrance of roses shrouded by the odour of blood that stains some of his and dirty scuffed armour. a million questions race through your head among the lines of 'what was so urgent to warrant him not cleaning up when he arrived at your doorstep', or 'where the fuck has he been'.

you almost don't notice him take your hand in his—so gentle, so unlike a knight who has faced countless battles—as he bows down to give yours a tender kiss, you almost wish it was on your lips instead. almost.

it's unfair, really, even with his unkempt appearance you rarely see if ever—he still looks so handsome. he glances up at you with his sparkling eyes, still bowing, answering your unsaid question with an apologetic look.

"my sincerest apologies. my phone had been swallowed by a sting."

("where's my jumping hug you usually bestow me whenever i visit, my dear?" he almost pouts, as if unaware of his uncouth appearance.

"you have bug guts and blood on you."

"but i missed you. :("

"go take a shower, argenti."

you gave him plenty of cuddles and kisses once he and his armour were all cleaned up, and even considered purchasing a backup phone for him in case his new one got swallowed. again.)

ANON THIS WAS SO???!?! I LOVE YOU

ofc his phone got swallowed by a sting. I'd like to imagine he doesn't actually have any important things on his device for this very reason. Every single picture he takes, every important document or any other kind of information he wants saved, he just sends it to you lol. You have a separate folder called 'Argenti's Stuff' (right next to the folder with all the selfies he sends you) (there're like 500+ pictures in it at this point)

"Next time you lose it I'll cuff the damn thing to your wrist."

Ohh and taking care of him afterwards too. I bet he's exhausted from his….endeavors. Imagine running him a bath and helping him wash off all the gunk from his hair >> I got a little carried away hehe, holding him 🤲

Taking in a deep breath you steel yourself against the gruesome state of his hair. Beautiful red locks, once so soft and lush, now matted and sticking to his neck in wet patches. As if that wasn't foul enough, you were sure the tiny clumps of flesh scattered on his hair were just that, flesh. Not to mention the small remnants of the sting's carapace sprinkled on top of everything.

You shake your head and continue, undeterred by the sight in front of you.

Argenti sighs as soon as the warm water hits his head. The heat from the water running down his back like a cozy stream envelops him and alleviates his fatigue as he sinks further into the tub. Holding the shower head with one hand you use the other to carefully work on cleaning up the mess in his hair.

The knight melts into your soft touch, your fingers feel like magic the way they easily untangle his messy hair. The grime and gunk that covered his hair form a bloody river that runs into the drain as they slowly get washed away.

Once you were certain that everything from his hair was cleared out, you move onto the shampoo. Argenti grumbles as you apply a generous amount of the cold gel to his head, clearly disgruntled at the stark contrast in temperate. You disregard his silent complains and start massaging his scalp with both hands, rubbing the foam around his head and adding more shampoo when needed. You swore your bottle felt half as empty by the time you were done.

Rinsing out his hair was a harder task that you thought. Just the sheer volume of it was enough to hold so much soap, you had to spend a considerable amount of time just to wash it all off.

You repeat the whole process just in case, after all, it's hard to tell if there's any blood left when the hair in question is also red…

By the time you're done he's fast asleep and he looks so impossibly cute that way. Just seeing Argenti so visibly relaxed and dozing off made you feel sleepy as well. So you carry him back to the bed and fall asleep next to him <3

(yea I also got lazy at the end lol. it just be like that..)

#honkai star rail #hsr argenti #argenti x reader #x reader #hsr x reader #I've read this like THREE TIMES #genuinely anon wtf #just coming in here and dropping a banger and leaving?!?!! #blood and guts covered Argenti.... #consider me a dead man #ask #anon #I'm gonna be thinking about this for the next few weeks.... #c00kie.writes #hsr

[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 11.1 - against all odds

Rating: mature (angst, language)

Word Count: 1500

☾

How can I just let you walk away? Just let you leave without a trace When I stand here taking every breath, with you You're the only one who really knew me at all

☾

February 14, 1984 - junior year

"Your room smells nice."

"Did you expect it to smell bad? Jesus."

Eddie stared at you, standing in his bedroom. You were looking around, your piercing gaze taking in every little detail, which suddenly made Eddie self-conscious.

"Do you have, like, multiple personalities or something, Buckley? I'm getting whiplash from your mood swings," he muttered, dropping the keys to his van on the dresser.

You scoffed, removing your jacket and scarf before laying them out on his bed. You sat on your jacket like it was some kind of protective barrier between yourself and his bedsheets. 

The strange action made Eddie roll his eyes.

Taking time to look at you, Eddie was sure now that you were going through some shit. Your hair was still pristine as always, but the bags under your eyes made you look like a goddamn ghoul.

"Hot chocolate?" you reminded him, running your hands over the tops of your thighs.

Eddie shifted awkwardly. "Uh, yeah, about that. I don't have any hot chocolate, I just said that to lure you in here."

"Again with the homicidal implications, huh, Munson?"

"I do love implications, sunshine," he snapped back with a quick wink. "Woah, woah!"

Standing up suddenly, you grabbed your jacket and made for the door. On your way out, you stopped in front of Eddie.

"Stop calling me sunshine. I don’t like pet names. I’m not your pet," you spat.

Ignoring the jab at his bruised heart, Eddie sneered at you, second-guessing why he even bothered to bring you there to talk. 

"At this point, I think the only thing I know about you is that you're a total asshole."

You paused in the hallway outside of his bedroom. You seemed defeated, like a car that ran out of gas, like a bird giving up after trying to fly with a broken wing.

"Look, I can tell you're not having a great time lately. Obviously," he said, gesturing towards you as a whole, "you're a little off your rocker."

When you didn't respond, Eddie continued. "Let me help you get back on your rocker. Talk to me, tell me things, anything. Tell me about your shitty parents, tell me about your dirty dreams. I care, you know. I'm not about to judge you."

He worried that his pleading would chase you out the door faster, which honestly could be the last straw for Eddie. There was a fine line between trying to help the girl who was hell bent on pushing everyone away and maintaining his own self-respect.

And then you nearly crumpled to the floor, rubbing your eyes with your fingertips.

"I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm sorry about ghosting you again, for leaving after what happened on New Years."

He hadn't expected an apology from you. Sure, he wanted one - but he sure as hell didn’t expect one. 

And then the very last thing he expected from you was the amount of emotion on your face. A mixture of confusion, exhaustion, just a sprinkle of anger.

Unsure of what to say, Eddie scooted towards you, taking a knee on the floor near where you leaned against the dingy wall.

"It's… it's okay. I can't be mad at you. We're both going through our own shit."

"That's no excuse for me to abandon you. Twice."

Eddie chuckled grimly. "Huh, yeah. You did ditch me twice, didn't you?"

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"You mean, besides being a typical teenage girl?" He tried to joke, but immediately felt bad. "Is it about your parents?"

And finally, after months of wondering what the hell you were hiding, the wall you were desperately holding up… fell down.

☾

How can you just walk away from me? When all I can do is watch you leave 'Cos we've shared the laughter and the pain and even shared the tears You're the only one who really knew me at all

☾

You told him about your family. You told him about your religion, or ex-religion at this point, and how much it affected the dynamic of you and your parent's relationship.

You had been so used to maintaining your stoic appearance even before you changed your mind about religion. Since you were a small girl, your parents scolded you for crying. If you even laughed too loudly in public, your mother would pinch your arm. You're embarrassing yourself, child.

Your parent's recent divorce was the talk of housewives all over Hawkins, but not necessarily as big as Eddie's father's arrest. More like the hottest gossip amongst adults since back when Hopper went off the rails and banged nearly every woman in town.

You felt responsible for the entire thing. You told Robin about your father's affair, who in turn told your mother. The whole situation was a complete cluster fuck, ending up with your mother moving to Indianapolis and now the Buckley sisters only had your shitty dad. Not that either of you really needed him, though.

Confiding in Eddie about Robin's sexuality and your parent's ridicule was the hardest part, a lone tear crawling down your cheek for the first time in years. You had never said the words out loud before, even to Robin herself. It had always been an unspoken thing between you two.

You were a girl with a lot of feelings built up inside of you, anger bubbling at the surface of your impassive image. 

After growing up in a vicious, judgemental household, Eddie could see exactly why you were so distrusting of others.

Especially new, unpredictable people. Like himself.

And Eddie sat in silence, sitting across the narrow hallway from you. He absorbed every word you spoke. He felt like he was receiving a precious gift, a priceless artifact, deserving of being protected inside of his heart forever. 

In your close proximity, the Munson boy wrapped his outstretched legs loosely around your own legs. You didn't seem to mind.

"Thank you for telling me. Thank you for telling me about your life, Buckley," he mumbled, after a long stretch of silence between them. 

"Are you okay?"

"What?" he questioned, puzzled. 

"About your dad…"

Your eyes lifted to meet his, and Eddie felt like he saw a new clarity there. Your fixed stare was lucid, like a dirty window that was cleaned after years of neglect. And hell, Eddie would cut off one of his limbs to become the worn out rag that cleaned that window forever.

It seemed like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. He admired you, not only for overcoming obstacles in life, but as a physical being. Sour conversation aside, Eddie wanted to hold you. He was still afraid you would run away, disappear for a third time.

"Eddie?"

He coughed, distracted, looking down the hallway. "Oh, um, well… my dad got locked up for dealing drugs. Now I live here. Not much to say about that."

"But are you okay?"

Thinking for a moment, he tapped his boot against your hip. "I'll be okay. I was planning to move here anyways, remember? No more drunken screaming fights, no more locking me out of the house on a weekly basis. No more broken guitars, either," he laughed. "I've actually been keeping my favorite guitar here at my uncle's for years because of that old angry bastard."

"Really?"

"Unfortunately, Buckley, you aren't the only one with dysfunctional parents. Hate to break it to you." He had one more question for you. "But, on a more personal note. Did I do something wrong?"

You fidgeted in your seat on the floor. "What do you mean, exactly?"

"I guess I know better by now than to take these last few months too personally. We're human, life has its ups and downs. But are we still friends? Why did our friendship, or whatever the hell it was, become collateral damage in all of this?"

No answer from you.

"Are you going to stick around this time? I'm developing abandonment issues over here," he smirked.

His grin grew wider as you actually smiled back at him. Your eyes seemed to glow at him from across the hallway.

"I don't know, you tell me. Can I stay?"

"I'll keep you forever if you let me."

The blush on your cheeks was displayed to him in an almost shameless way, like an offering. And then your next question would have knocked him off his feet if he hadn't already been seated on the floor.

"No, I mean can I stay here tonight?"

☾

Take a good look at me now, 'cos I'll still be standin' here And you coming back to me is against all odds It's the chance I've gotta take

☾

(song lyrics credit: "Against All Odds (Take a Look at Me Now)" by Phil Collins)

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddiemunson #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #eddie munson slow burn #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x buckley!reader

[hiemaldesirae]

Okay, so everyone is all cursed cat Alastor *hates* Vox...but what if It absolutely ADORES Vox? What if it's just like Alastor's Shadow, and it holds ALL of the emotions Alastor won't show? So it's ALL over Vox? Vox can't get a moment alone, cursed cat!Alastor is ALWAYS with him. Following him, loving on him. Only allows Vox to pet him...attacks regular Alastor when he attacks Vox, actually *defeating him.* (Alastor hates that Cat. And is ridiculously jealous.)

oh i endorse this 100%. i wrote a little snippet for it even LMFAO

it gets a tad long so ill leave it under the cut. it is mostly word vomit but . you know.. hopefully u guys enjoy :)

"We should really consider just putting the poor thing out of its misery," Alastor shoots a glare at the curled up lump on the carpet, its foaming mouth bound with rope, even as it chews furiously at its restraints. "Why, if we didn't, we would be violating our own 'no pets' policy!"

"Alastor..." Charlie frowns at her hotelier, before chancing a hesitant glance back at the creature. "Look, no one's perfect, right? Can't we try giving the cat a chance, at least?"

The other residents in the room- Angel, Husk, Vaggie, and even Lucifer himself- all give her blank eyed stares, Angel and Husk in particular rolling up their sleeves to show off the long, deep gouges in their arms.

"Charlie, honey, I think I speak for everyone here when I say you should just let Alastor get rid of it," Vaggie grimaces. "I know you love animals and all, but that- *thing* isn't safe to be around."

"What? Come on, it's sweet!" Charlie turns around, her back to the creature as she motions to it, completely unawares of the furry animal finally chewing through the final bit of rope as it lunges for her, much to the horror of the other hotel inhabitants.

An hour later, Alastor finds himself and his shadow traversing the streets of Pentagram City with the creature held securely in his shadow's grip. "Hmm... so, then, where should we dispose of this little pest? Ah, I have an idea."

He snaps his fingers and in a moment, reappears in a cloud of black, smokey shadow- right in front of the Vee's tower. With a swift motion to his shadow attendant, his doppelganger releases the cat-like creature from its claws, the feral little creature immediately charging the doors of the tower once it's let free. Alastor barely manages to hold back a snort before he once more steps back into the shadows- tomorrow, he'd check back again and see how it was going for Vox. With any luck, the results would be entertaining.

Vox gets the notification in the middle of a meeting. It takes merely the wave of his hand to dismiss the investors and step out, rolling his eyes as he prepares to deal with Val or Vel's shit again for the twentieth time today.

"What is it now...?" He frowns down at his phone, before noticing his assistant's contact on the phone. "Dei? What is it? Did something happen to Lis?"

"Uh, no, it's not anything like that, Sir," the aquatic sinner responds nervously. "Though, um... well, we have a little bit of an emergency, kind of. Not... really, since it's mostly under control now, but we lost a few employees in the scuffle--"

"Just tell me what happened," Vox heaves a long suffering sigh as he presses a claw to his screen, ready to send out apology gift baskets to HR again.

"Um. Well, there is a... Populis calls it a cat, but I'm quite sure it's not any sort of 'typical' animal at all, especially since it has antlers and a monocle... anyway. There's this... *creature* just kind of running around on the main floor, and it took out about five workers before Baxter managed to subdue it."

Vox blinks once, then twice, and then sighs again. "I swear to fucking God- okay, go and contact HR so they can get you all tested for rabies or whatever the fuck it is down in Hell, and I'll come to deal with the fucking cat thing."

"Yes, sir," Dei replies dutifully before the line goes dead. Vox groans before schooling himself and his expression and disappearing into a flash and electric current, teleporting all the way down to the first floor of the Vee's tower.

"S-sir!" Papermint comes running toward him first, looking worried. "Um... so, uh, when Dei went to get the cat creature, it sort of attacked him too--"

"For fucks sake, do none of you know how to do your job properly?" Vox pinches his screen again, thoroughly done. It was fucking Tuesday and he was already hoping for the end of the week. Get rich and famous, they told you. It'll be fun, they told you. Fun his fucking ass-- he has to spend his morning sitting through investment meetings and now, having to deal with a rabid Hell animal and the fact that it was mowing down his workers like some sort of demented lawnmower. Fucking great, just what he needed.

He stomps into the main hallway with the little eel sinner trailing awkwardly behind him, eyes widening in surprise as he takes in the scene before him.

On the ground, his main assistants Dei and Populis grapple with a tiny red animal.

It... looks somewhat like a cat, if a cat had an unholy union with whatever kind of deer Alastor was. And it also had a monocle, and was foaming at the mouth (yeah, definitely rabies), while his tech administrator Baxter stood to the side and watched with a bucketful of popcorn in hand. Logi, possibly the only normal sinner he had under his employment, was trying her damnednest to pull the cat- who, by the way, was winning the fight with BOTH his assistants- off of Dei, whose ear was currently in its mouth.

"I really need a drink," Vox groans before he rolls his sleeves up and walks forwards into the fray, the air around him crackling with static electricity as he intends to separate the fighters, whether with force or not- but to his surprise, he doesn't need to use any force at all.

Instead, when the little cat creature sees him, its eyes light up before it lets go of Dei's ear, the manta ray sinner letting out a groan of relief before collapsing onto the floor, the other assistants rushing to help him up. The cat, on the other hand, leaps up at Vox, who instinctively catches it in his arms. It purrs as it rubs against him, seemingly no longer hostile towards any of the other sinners in the room.

Vox stares down at the cat. It stares up at him, then grins.

It's... kind of cute, actually. In a really weird, freaky way.

"Uh... boss?" Baxter raises an eyebrow as he looks at the cat held securely in Vox's arms, then at the gaggle of sinners trying to make sure that Dei doesn't bleed out. "You gonna help, or...?"

Vox rolls his eyes before he sends a bolt of electricity over at the sinner and burns the bite, effectively cauterizing and closing the wound. "I'll have HR deal with it and get Dei a week's worth of paid recovery. Any more than that and I'm not covering it. You guys just get back to work after the cleanup crew comes, got it?"

He sighs down at the creature in his arms as he walks out of the main lobby, frowning to himself. "What am I going to do with you...? I've got a fitting with Dorian later, and he's *definitely* not gonna allow you in... and what the hell do you even eat, anyway? Better not be my workers- and oh dear god, I've got Vark, too, I can't believe I forgot about him-"

Still, even as he grumbles to himself, Vox can't help but recognize the truth: no matter what difficulties this little shit brings him, he's definitely keeping it.

A week's worth of time passes before Alastor finally finds some free time to go off and take a look at how his *esteemed* rival has been doing. He's half expecting half the Entertainment District to be destroyed by the time he returns, but there's nothing of the sort. In fact, business seems to be going about as usual... but then again, this may be one more of the TV demon's methods of avoidance. Vox *was* always a good actor, after all-- even if his own life was falling apart, he would never let that show.

So with that reassurance settled in himself, Alastor decides to take a risky move and get in closer range to his target- he slips into the shadows surrounding the crowd of reporters gathering around the ground floor of the Vee's Tower, clamouring for the chance to see the Media Overlord in the flesh.

Strangely, they all seem more chatty today-- Alastor didn't recall any sort of holiday being today, so it seemed that there was more information to be heard... and *that* was surprising, the revelation that something interesting may have happened while he was gone. Was it perhaps because of the hellspawn he'd dropped off a week earlier?

His question is answered not even a moment later, when Vox steps out of the doors, a confident grin on his face and a small, hissing red creature draped around his neck like a scarf.

Alastor's eye twitches.

Did he *keep* the damned thing? And why the *fuck* was he absentmindedly petting its fucking ears?! *That should have been him!*

#ran rambles #hazbin hotel #general asks #radiostatic #chai writes #snuck a few ocs in there hehe #cursed cat alastor

[siconetribal]

Put it on My Tab 11

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali

Warning: Frustration, Celebration, and Coffee Inhalation

Summary:

Everyone deserves time off, and the vigilantes of Gotham are no exception to the rule. The boys decide to take a weekend to let loose. Who knew a few drinks would lead to a stranger in bed?

Author Note:

A huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

Please comment, like, share, and reblog! If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters or find chapter one here.

The apartment was silent, broken only by the occasional shouting, shooting, and sirens. For anyone living in Gotham City, especially the rougher parts, this was all white noise. A day of actual  silence was a blessing that no one dared to question. Today was not one of those nights. In fact, it was noisier than most, which usually meant trouble was closer than usual. None of that mattered to Y/N as she sat cross armed and cross-legged on the worn out sofa, staring down at her phone that lay on the coffee table before her.

Seconds had turned to minutes which quickly became an hour which was now nearing two as she sat there stone still. Since coming home from her shift, she had perched herself on the couch as if to judge the cellular device that was placed on the stand. There was now a new number on her phone. Nine new digits under the contact name: Your Hero and a message thread that held one text saying ‘hi’ from her phone to this person. 

The same person with the mesmerising blue eyes that looked like they held the secrets of life itself, tinged with sadness and pain. Tall, muscular but not overly bulky but certainly much bigger than her, with black hair that had a high contrast streak of white in the front. The same interrogative gentleman who saved her from the drink and Matias. The very person who had her drowning in 4k worth of debt to the hotel for room damage. Thrice he appeared out of nowhere and twice were to save her from serious trouble. The one and only silver tongued Wonder Boy who was into books and video games.

“Who just shows up to save someone on time like that? Is he really some sort of self-proclaimed hero?” She muttered to herself, unfolding her arms to rest her chin in one of her palms.  “What do I do now? Do I text him? Should I ask about the room? How do I even bring that up without him claiming I’m some liar trying to squeeze money out of him? It’s not like I knew he was a Wayne! I didn’t sit there and memorise all their faces, and just hoped to the high heavens one had a decent enough personality to save me. I didn’t even want to go to the reunion! Do I just wait for him to text me? He did say he was going to text me, but do I just believe that? When is that going to happen? What did I even say yes to?!” She threw her arms up in frustration and ruffled her hair. “What the hell am I supposed to do?!” She let out a heavy sigh of frustration, staring up at the dated popcorn ceiling as she slumped back into her seat, laying her head on the top of the cushion. Today is going to be a long day. She blinked a few times, fatigue getting the best of her. Forcing herself to stand up, she grabbed her phone and made her way to her bedroom. Sleep was the only answer after such a hectic night shift.

“Tonight, we celebrate, Magnus ol’ buddy!” Jason grinned, snapping the elastic band of the party hat under the stone chin. “Yours truly has managed to not only find her,” he walked away and paused for suspense, turning with ease to face his rock friend once more. “But also get her number and her name! Sure, I got it off her name tag, but I plan on getting it from her directly!” He grinned from ear to ear as he walked back, waving the lit up phone screen in its face as he leaned against Magnus. “Sorry I haven’t been around to update ya on things, I had to help with shit on the other side of the city for the last couple of weeks. At least it wasn’t boring. But that’s beside the point, I finally got something on her before she got on me! Man, you should’ve seen the look on her face! I left her speechless!” He puffed his chest with pride as he plopped down onto his usual seat by Magnus, opening up the rolled up paper bag.

He pulled out a large order of fries, setting it sideways in Magnus’ mouth for easy access before grabbing the burger beneath it, his drink set between them and his helmet just within reach. Batburgers were the perfect on-the-go late night celebratory food. He was not scheduled to be on patrol today, but no one told him what to do. He just merely agreed with decisions for the most part, today was just one of difference of opinion. Let the Batman rant and rave, Jason would not let anyone take away his victory.

“So, what was the last thing we talked about? Ah, right! Some mobsters were causing shit thinking I wasn't around to crack skulls. Fucking dumbasses,” he rolled his eyes and took a hearty bite of his burger. “The look of shock on their faces, you’d think they saw a ghost! I know I’ve died a few times, depending on what stories you follow, but I’m still flesh and blood. Of course, they tried to fix that, thinking they had a chance. They never learn, and that's why they always fucking lose. When I ran shit, I was smart about it. Throwing muscle mindlessly is a waste. You can't educate the brainless though. I had to make sure to do a proper job, and couldn't leave just anyone to send the message. Things should be quiet over there for a bit which gives me the chance to actually reach out to Y/N.”

“Y/N, huh? That’s a pretty name.” A familiar voice held an annoying lilt to it. Jason’s eyebrow twitched as he took a sip of his soda.

“Whaddya want, Dickwing?” He grumbled.

“What, can’t an older brother come check in on his AWOL younger brother?” Nightwing placed a hand over his heart and hung his head. “You wound me, little brother.” He frowned, noticing the party hat on the gargoyle. “And to have a party without inviting me? I am doubly hurt! Maggie has a hat and fries!”

“Magnus is important. He doesn’t say stupid shit like you are now.” Jason scoffed, taking one of the crispy golden potato sticks.

“Margrave can’t say anything. I still think you should see someone about this unhealthy relationship you have with this heap of concrete.” Nightwing knocked two knuckles against it before taking a seat beside Jason. “So, who is Y/N, and why are you texting her? Where did you meet? Should I be worried, and for whom between the two of you?”

“Shut up,” the younger former Robin grumbled. “You better not fucking do anything or I’ll kill you.” He warned Nightwing quickly raising his hands up in surrender. “She's the girl I was trying to find about the whole hotel fiasco.”

“The one where you broke the simple coffee machine and ruined the room, leaving her with a huge bill to clear?” He smirked as Jason scowled.

“Yes, that one. Keep it up, see what happens.” He grumbled.

“Alright, alright! So, you finally found her, hm? That's good, you can give her the money and move on finally. You won't have some rando holding that over you anymore. Did you get the money sent to her already?”

Jason knew that was what he needed to do and that was the whole purpose of trying to find her. Give her the money and move on. There was no use or reason to delay. The sooner he paid, the sooner she was free to move on as well. Being involved any more than necessary was a danger to her and a burden on him. And yet, the thought alone left a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. 

Y/N was witty and funny, easy to approach and talk to even if it was just nonsense. He wanted to keep talking to her, and not just through a computer screen. He wanted to know more about her day, the crazy customers, and the shenanigans of her and Citlalli. He wanted to sit and drink coffee or tea or whatever she drank and discuss books, plan little gaming raids, or just talk about life. He knew nothing about her. 

I could just look it up now that I know her name and place of employment. I could find out everything about her and clear up the mystery that is her, feed the curiosity and be done with it…but I don't want to. Not only that, but I want to hear it from her, organically. Even if I did read all there is, I'd want to hear it from her. 

“Earth to Jason, are you there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. I’m just thinking.”

“You, thinking? Oh man, that isn’t good. Should I be expecting a second duffle bag incident?”

“Duffle bag what? No, that was one time, you guys need to learn to let it go!” He rolled his eyes.

“It’s pretty hard to just let go of the fact that your younger brother was carrying eight heads stuffed in a gym bag.” Nightwing scoffed. “Excuse me for being a little concerned.”

“It was one time!” He let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not some psycho serial killer or something. If you’re here to rain on my parade, you can fuck off! This is why I didn't invite you, Magnus knows how to read a balcony. It’s clearly a party.” He motioned to the shiny pointy hat on said gargoyle’s head. “Also, aren’t you on patrol? Quit slacking off and go.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave! I can tell when I’m not wanted!” Nightwing let out a heavy sigh as he stood up. “Unloved and thrown away like last week’s newspaper.” He sniffled loudly. “I see how it is!” He threw his head back with the back of his hand to his forehead.

“If you get it, then leave.” Jason grumbled, opening up the wrapper of his second burger. “Thanks, for the assist.” He mumbled before taking a bite. Nightwing had just barely heard the words, but smiled nonetheless.

“Anytime, Little Red,” he chuckled before vanishing into the night. 

Over the course of the next two weeks, Y/N picked up every and all shifts that she could possibly find to help clear the money owed. Citlalli was great in helping her find work, while away and on her return. The return of the boisterous and flamboyant Citlalli was like sunshine after weeks of doom and gloom rain, refreshing and much needed. Y/N had been keeping herself too busy to even think, and Citlalli’s return was a great distraction, but also a great sounding board on what to do. She had told her dear friend all about her encounter with her troublesome cousin and the return of her expensive hero. Citlalli was not thrilled to hear about her cousin’s antics, and had quickly informed their boss of what transpired. She also insisted that Y/N should wait for him to text, since that is what he said he would do. The task was simple enough, validating the decision she had been leaning towards as is. 

However, that was then. Two weeks and some days had gone by, and nothing. Utter radio silence from him. No sudden appearances, even though Matias did come by some times to try to get her attention. And her online gaming partner was also MIA. Arkham_Knight said it would be about a week, but there was no movement or notice from him either. It was driving her crazy to just sit and wait for both of them.

The next time I see him, I’m going smack him! How do you tell someone you’re going to message them and just don’t?! Especially after you made sure to get my number to send details, what details?! She wanted to scream, but she was on the clock. It was another graveyard shift and the café was dead. Everything had been cleaned spotless and anything that needed to be restocked was done. She even went through the inventory to make a list of what needed to be reordered soon. With nothing left, she took a seat on the stool and pulled out her book since there was nothing else to do.

As soon as she cracked it open, there was the sound of glass shattering. She reflexively ducked for cover as the window shards went flying everywhere. She could hear the sounds of a struggle at the crunch and scratch of the pieces, a muffled frantic voice followed by a calmer, more exasperated one.

“I told you we could do this the easy way or the hard way, you chose the hard way.” The young male voice flippantly spoke. “Now, tell me what I need to know. I can keep this up all night if I have to, I’ve got nowhere else to be.” 

And I just cleaned the whole place! Y/N scowled at her turn of luck, carefully closing her book and placing it aside. What am I supposed to do in this situation?! I can’t exactly greet them and ask what they would like to order, who knows what they’ll do to me. Wasn’t his place supposed to be ‘crime free’? So much for that promise, thanks for nothing Gotham politicians! She grumbled to herself, slowly lifting her head to just above the counter to see who was responsible for destroying the cafe. She was surprised to see it was one of the famous caped crusaders of Gotham City. Red Robin, here? With who? She tried to get a look of the captured person but her attention was caught by the sound of crunching glass and she ducked quickly for brief moment.

“Did we get it?”

Nightwing? Well damn, I know I said I wanted something to happen, but this was not what I had in mind. She slowly stood up from her hiding spot after shifting over to right so that the machines would help hide her for a little longer.

“Not yet, but looks like he’s just about ready.” Red Robin answered, looking over his shoulder at Nightwing, catching sight of Y/N’s hat in the process. “Looks like we have an audience.”

What do I do? What do I do? Y/N’s eyes darted from side to side trying to find a place to run, but she was boxed in and there was no way she would outrun one of them. With no options of escape, she slowly walked towards the register so she was more visible with both her hands up. “I’m unarmed, I’m just an employee here.” She forced herself to speak calmly and clearly.

“An employee here, where are we?” Nightwing quickly surveyed the location and realized they had come crashing through an actual business and not one of the under construction buildings. “So he ran here hoping to be seen by someone.” He muttered.

“See what? I don’t see anything, except for two potential customers debating if they want to order.”

“Smart girl,” Red Robin answered, turning to face her after tying up the guy on the floor. The two vigilantes walked up to the counter and looked up past Y/N to see what was available. While Red Robin realized where they were, Nightwing realized something else. She noticed and looked down to see it was at her name tag.

“Y/N, that’s a pretty name.” He grinned. “I think we will order something, Y/N. What do you say?”

“Red Eye with two shots of espresso and some steamed milk, large.” The order came out quick, a slight eagerness in the tone. Y/N could not help but stare at the younger of the two masked males.

“I’m guessing you like coffee, and strong at that.”

“It helps when working the night.” He stood a little straighter.

“Riiiight, I’m not judging. I work in a café.” She shrugged, dropping her arms since she needed to make the order. “And you, Mr. Nightwing?”

“Mead Raf for me, medium is fine.”

“To go, or did you plan on staying to chat? We’re a 24-hour café, though I suppose I need to have you leave, since I need to clean up all the glass.” She motioned to the floor.

“Ah yes, sorry about that, Y/N. We’ll have it to go so you can get to cleaning.” Nightwing chuckled, amused by how she was handling the situation. The two watched her as she carefully made the drinks, making sure no glass managed to find its way behind the counter or into the coffee. 

“One large Red Eye with two shots of espresso and steamed milk and one medium Mead Raf. Is that all?” The vigilantes looked between one another and nodded their heads. “Alright, here you go. Consider it a small thanks for doing your best to keep us safe. You sure you don’t want anything to eat? Or are you not allowed to eat on the job?”

“There are no rules about that, we just gotta keep our hands free as much as possible. Thank you, Y/N.” He smiled at her name. He noticed the corners of her lips tug downwards. “Is something wrong?"

“Hm? No, nothing.” I’m overthinking it. He’s probably saying my name to make sure I know that he knows my name now and if I say anything, it’ll be easy to find me. “I’m a snacker, so I guess not having something on hand seems a bit cruel.”

“It’s annoying, but we need to be able to react quickly.” Red Robin agreed, taking his cup and taking a rather big drink from it. She tried to stop him, but could only watch. He was not the first to drink burning hot coffee in front of her, but it was always strange to see. Nightwing was not as crazy, he waited for a bit before sipping his drink.

“Perfect,” he smiled in approval. “Thanks again, Y/N, and here, something for your troubles.” He winked, slipping something into the tip jar before grabbing the tied up man. “Until next time,” he flashed her a grin as Red Robin held the door open and the two walked out as if they had not just come crashing through one of the windows.

She looked down at the tip jar to see what looked to be a $100 bill and something else. Do they get paid to do this job, or is this from a day job? Where the hell did he even keep this money? I don’t see any room for pockets in his suit, but then again, it’s all black. Red Robin did have a belt, maybe he holds the change? Her focus then shifted her attention to the glass littering the floor and sighed, there was no way she was going to be able to run the rest of the shift like this. Locking the doors, she grabbed the cleaning supplies and called her boss, letting him know of the situation at hand. “Well, at least it wasn’t dull.” She muttered as she got to cleaning until her boss got there to have the window temporarily patched up.

#red hood #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #y/n #red hood fanfic #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fic #red hood fanfiction #red hood x fem!reader #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd x you #your name #y/n reader #red hood x y/n #reader insert #jason todd x female reader #red hood x female reader #batman #batman fic #batman fanfic #batman fanfiction #nightwing #red robin #dc fanfic

[coleskingdom]

Hall Pass

Jay White x Female Reader

NSFW Minors DNI 18+

@midwestmade29 @madhatterbri

You need these” Jay handing me his sunglasses even though we were just sitting down for lunch in catering. “What? Why?” my attention drawn elsewhere. “If you’re going to stare at golden boys ass like that, at least do it from behind the glasses.” there was no humor in his tone. Just then Mariah walked in Jay reached back for the glasses putting them on as his head slightly followed her across the room.

I roll my eyes dramatically at him “I’ve lost my appetite.” pushing back from the table. “Sit, Sweetheart. If I didn’t eat every time you stared at golden boy , I would’ve starved to death by now.” he growled only low of enough for me to hear. I glared at him, as I took a bite. “A lesser man would’ve left you for your disrespectful eye fucking of golden boy. I however am not a lesser man. In fact from what I hear a romp with him isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” his wink and smirk had me wanting to stab him with my fork.

“ Why are you so ruffled? I saw that flash in your eyes. I’m a fair man, if you want a night of being pounded in to and being called Bruv, I’ll say yes, but you’ll have to say yes to me taking Mariah back to the hotel, but I know what I’m getting into. Those stardom girls are something different all together.”he made the chefs kiss motion. “I’m done here.” pushing back from the table and walking out of the room I heard his laugh as I left , Mariah taking a seat next to him as I glanced back.

“Ugh, I fucking hate him” slamming the door behind me entering into the Bullet Club Gold locker room. “ Who do you hate?” the unmistakable voice of Skye asked sitting up from the couch in the room. “What the fuck?”completely caught off guard staring at her. “ Hey now, Jay said I could lay down in here. He’s a real sweetheart. Seriously though, are you okay?” as she made room on the couch. “ No, yes, maybe. Jays the nod infuriating man I’ve ever met.” Sitting down “ But what did you do?” Nudging my shoulder playfully. “ Apparently I was staring at Wills ass.” she laughed “Its not funny. He then started staring at Mariah. Who the hell can compete with that and she just sat down with him as I left.” I put my head in my hands. “ It’s funny I got in the same situation twice with Kyle. Once for Will and once for Jay.” I looked at my jaw dropped .”Come on, look at him, he’s all abs and attitude. You know what you have. Don’t act shocked that I looked at him.” Smirking at me. “So why Will? Aside from his God like body. I get to say that because I’m sharing an apartment with him and Kyle. What is that keeps pulling your attention away?.” I hesitated “I’m your best friend just tell me.” Her hand taking mine. “ You’re right about abs and attitude with Jay. I don’t know he’s like that golden retriever puppy he’s just so fucking happy and nice. I’ll be fine and I’m gonna stop looking at Will. Jay thinks it’s all about that and I quote be pounded and called bruv. When it’s more like I want to have a burger and a laugh.” I sighed “ I trust Jay implicitly and I get why he did what he did, but he offered me a hall pass for Will if he could have one with her.” looking at my bestie “ Holy shit what did you say? Is Jay really okay with that ?Everyone knows he’s batshit crazy over you.” I got up and began to pace “ I didn’t say anything what the hell could I say, I was pissed and hurt that he’d actually say that. Maybe he’s tired of me, maybe it’s closer to being over than it is for forever. Fuck if I know. I’ve got to get out of here before he comes in here.” moving toward my bag. “Want my opinion I think you are handling too much of his shit? But I’m gonna say this because I love all three of you. Don’t take the hall pass and don’t give him one either. Will’s not for you, but if you want that burger and a laugh come out with me and Kyle, Will, and Mark I can make that happen.” She stood and hugged me. “I’m gonna head out I think you and Jay have some shit to talk about.” she left just as I was debating about following her.

“Sweetheart where are you headed?” Jay’s mocking tone filling the room as he and Skye passed each other. “ None of your fucking business.” walking towards him. “ Tsk tsk you know our rule we don’t leave each other mad. Besides the best part of fighting is the fucking afterwards.” he stalked me till my back was up against the wall. “ So are we done fighting?” his hand tracing my face the other one finding my hip.

“ Mariah not available?” I seethe but my body craves his touch. “You’d look so pretty wearing my hand as a necklace “ his fingers tracing the side of my neck his thumb pressing lightly causing me to gasp. “Sweetheart, there’s no one, that I want or need more than you.” his kiss sure and deep, his hand keeping my focus only on him. “ Keep looking at me like you want to fuck me but you also want to kill me." His hands thread in my hair, as he continues to kiss me. His hips move and he growls a bit of delight in the back of his throat. His hand pulls my hair harder, and it's like I'm completely swallowed by him.

I fall into that kiss, tumbling deep into this moment, forgetting about everything.

His fingers keep dip below my waistband stroking my pussy over my panties, the other hand gripping my ass. His hard body pins me against the wall and I wrap my arms around his neck, going insane with bliss. "You're fucking soaked," Jay’s voice amused. “You're touching me of course I am.” His mouth buries mine, hungry now, and his fingers slip underneath and tease up and down my slit. I'm moaning into his tongue and I don't care anymore as his fingers slide inside of me, fucking me nice and deep. Oh my god, he presses against that spot inside me . My knees go limp and he's supporting my weight as his fingers stroke in and out, hitting the spot over and over. My eyes roll back, l'm moaning, mindless, insane with pleasure, and he's not stopping.

He bites my lower lip and whispers, "Come for me, sweetheart, come on, you need it, don't you?"

"Yes," | gasp, shaking as I shatter on his hand. I come in a sudden rush, my fingers digging into his back, my cheeks tingling. "Good girl”he whispers my head resting on his shoulder.

“Jay, I’m…” his finger on my lips silenced me. “ I took it to far I’m sorry.” kissing my forehead. “Just the idea of you..” I put my finger on his lips this time.

#aew smut. #aew smut #aew fanfiction #switchblade jay white x reader #jay white x you #jay white fanfiction #jay white smut #switchblade jay white smut

[etherealily]

𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃 // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Dark. SFW, but discretion advised.

Cliffhanger or series? Haven't decided. Repost because of reasons.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc.: You're needed. Now.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

It's not like you even knew Nate.

You knew of him, sure, quarterback and shit, but still, it was unlikely your paths would ever cross.

Until they did.

Until he started following you on Instagram.

That shit... was so unbelievably odd that you almost blocked him because you thought it was a fake account. But then you saw the mutuals. Holy shit. This was legit.

The fact that his account was private didn't surprise you. Yours was public because you had nothing to post and his was private because he had everything to hide.

You sent him a request. No biggie. I mean, he had to accept, right? He was the one who followed you first - it was only fair. And if it took too long, then you could always unsend it, yeah? Yeah.

It didn't take too long. It barely took three minutes.

Okay. Cool. Weird but cool.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you. An average social media interaction. Good.

--------

Come Friday evening, you decided that watching Maddy cheer was a little less important than your deadline and building your portfolio.

She absolutely supported you (rolled her eyes and said 'whatever, nerd. You still love me, right?') but was a little upset about it (pouted and called you a cunt).

Three hours went by, and you surprised yourself with the amount of work you were getting done. This is great. Friday evening well spent. Work a bit more, and then-

Nate Jacobs tagged you in a Close Friends story.

Close Friends? Tagged? NATE JACOBS?

Okay, one : no fucking way were you on his Close Friends.

Two : there were virtually zero pictures of the two of you, so tagging you was moot.

Three : there was supposed to be a game starting about fifteen minutes from now, Blackhawks versus whatever pretentious team they were going to beat, so why the fuck was he even online?

(Oh, yeah, the Blackhawks were absolutely fucking awesome.)

The story was only text. Text and nothing more.

Y/N, accept my message request. Now. I am not fucking around.

What message request? WHAT the fuck was going on?

You frowned, immediately scrolling over to messages. Shit. There was a request.

A picture, along with six other messages.

This was so strange. It was especially strange that he found the time to text you, when he was supposed to be practicing throwing the old pigskin around for the victory of his school. But text you he did. As if him following you wasn't enough to give you whiplash. "Yo."

"You're not here." No shit, Sherlock.

"You should be."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? This was the most excruciatingly awkward interaction you'd ever had.

"You should be here. Come."

Did he think he was super macho with all this mysterious, vague, one-word bullshit he was spewing? You know what, you'd actually bet your entire school tuition he did. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking why.

"U don't just send requests to random people. Don't act like you don't know me. Don't ignore my texts."

"I'm fucking losing it. Come now or else."

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

This was the most random thing to ever happen to you. Nate Jacobs, some random jock you never even said one word to, was texting you as if you had been best friends since two years old and you had always been all rah-rah-go-team for him.

You were almost scared to open the picture. Instagram asked you if you were sure. Once, twice. You should have listened. But you didn't, and you were about to face the consequences.

Red. That was the first thing you saw, and the first thing that had ever grossed you out enough to physically throw your phone away.

So much red.

Above the red, concealed almost cruelly, was a black box with white text in it. For a moment, your eyes were overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with the monstrosity in front of you that you couldn't even begin to comprehend what the words meant. You picked your phone back up, squinting your eyes and blocking out the rest.

He must have noticed you accepted his request, because you saw 'Typing...' pop up way too fast for him not to have been waiting.

"I'll cut deeper if you don't show up."

Nate Jacobs was a cruel and manipulative bastard of a man who you would happily let die.

But not like this.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You glanced at the screen and then back at the road, from time to time. There was no indication that he was typing. The 'online' sign still stayed. Okay. So he either just threw his phone away while still on your chat or he was about to-

Nate Jacobs started an audio call.

Clearly tonight wasn't going to be the night you stayed in and finished all your assignments, like you'd decided.

"Pick up or I'll fucking kill you."

Yup, that sounded about right.

You laughed, incredulously. The genuine threat wasn't lost on you, but what else does one do in this situation besides laugh at the absurdity of it all?

Better safe than sorry. You swiped up.

"Y/N, please just come."

It felt so weird to hear him say your name. It felt even weirder to hear him say 'please'.

"Why?"

"You need to be here." His voice was unwavering.

"Look, Jacobs, I'm sorry, but I have projects and assignments to work on. Not to mention, my portfolio-"

You wanted to see how far you could take it. He couldn't hear your car's sounds, and he couldn't possibly track your location, so according to him, you were still sitting at home, petulantly.

If he was joking, he'd just cuss you out drunkenly. If he wasn't, he'd... keep begging.

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, just come!"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

Keeping your calm was the best thing you'd ever done for yourself, the greatest form of self-care you could give yourself, because Nate Jacobs sensing nervousness was like sharks smelling blood in the water. Quick and bad.

"I have important shit, too, you know? Scouts are here, Y/N, please!"

"Look-"

"Coach, I know, just five more minutes - FUCK, Y/N, you gotta come.", he pleaded, his tone becoming far too pathetic to brush off.

"Why?"

"Why? Whaddayamean why?", he huffed out, frustrated, as if you were supposed to know this already.

2 + 2. What galaxy we live in. The colour of the sky. Why you were needed at the game. According to this asshole, all these things were common knowledge.

"I will cut deeper."

"Stop bullshitting, Jacobs."

You hoped to god that your voice didn't betray your bewilderment. This better be a sick fucking joke.

"I'm cutting."

"Stop."

"Coach says the five minutes are up, but I won't play without you here."

A video. SHIT. FUCK.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Actually, no. This better not just be a joke, because if the entire school was in on this shit, you would end up cutting him.

The grunts of pain and sharp inhales from his side of the call got more and more grotesque as you pulled into the school parking lot.

The school had an unsettling vibrancy to it after hours, and this was only exacerbated by the fact that you were supposedly the cause for a boy to slice through his own skin. It shouldn't have seemed this vibrant, this overwhelming, this vivid, this.... bright, but it did. The world moved at an eerily quick pace, like a carnival ride on LSD.

As you ran across the parking lot and gripped the gate to the stadium and basically swung right past it, you finally realized how fucking loud a crowd could be.

It was like they knew that their QB might be bleeding out because of you, because they seemed to scream loud enough to torture you for eternity.

Immediately manhandled by Chris McKay -another jock you had absolutely no connection to, but who seemed to have a very personal grudge against you-, you were pushed out of the locker rooms as quickly as you came in. Fuck's sake.

"Let me go , McKay!"

"Coach is trying to calm him down, and if he sees you, we got no idea what he might do, okay? OKAY?", he ordered, sternly, through clenched teeth as he shook your shoulders.

He was earnestly trying to be calm and gentle, but his fingers gripping harder and harder into your arms did jackshit to help his case.

"Okay."

He nodded, sighing in some emotion that seemed oddly like relief.

What, did he expect more of a fight? Did he expect you to be all 'no, I gotta see him now?'

You had no clue who the hell this bastard was, let alone what he wanted. No way were you going to kick and shout for him.

"What the fuck is his problem?", you asked, sighing against McKay's chest, exhausted.

He shrugged, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "He's stressed about the game."

"So he cuts himself in my name? We don't even know each other, dude!"

"Okay, he isn't exactly the one you go to for rationality, alright?"

"Yo, the fuck's going on, man? The game was supposed to start-"

The other team's captain.

"Yeah, we're just, uh, dealing with a situation over here.", assured McKay, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from going ballistic at Nate. Or you. Most likely Nate. But even more likely you. "Tell your coach we're so sorry, and we'll be out in a minute, tops."

The other guy scoffed, grumbling as he stomped away, glaring more at you than McKay. What, did everyone know now?

"He thinks we're trying to hook up before the game.", explained McKay, patiently, almost embarrassed. "It's a thing some athletes do, 'for luck'."

Jocks were the weirdest fucking aliens to ever exist.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Crimson traced paths through the blinding white of the bandages wrapped tightly like dependent vines around his palm. Noticing the lack of uniformity of white, Coach tsked. "We need more. McKay!"

"Yes, Coach?"

"One more, then you can send her in."

"She came?" Nate's voice, though feeble and exhausted - and now, hopeful - was heard through the tiny gap in the door that McKay made sure would remain tiny as he passed the last bandage to him, and you didn't want to admit it, but it broke your heart.

Ew. Nate Jacobs was breaking your heart?

Coach finished wrapping Nate up, and McKay guided you in, with both measured aggression and protectiveness.

Nate's eyes lifted and brightened up immensely, a feat you'd only thought possible by a lone spark igniting and breach every inch of a dry leaf.

"You came."

"Son, I don't know what the hell you were thinking-"

"No, no, Coach, she's here, we can play."

Everyone stopped breathing at that moment. What the hell did the self-wounding quarterback asshole just say?

"What'd you just say, Jacobs?"

"We can play. Y/N's here. This isn't my good palm, anyway, so it's fine. Let's go."

And just like that, Nate was back. The amount of theses that could be written on this sheer anomaly of a man, the amount of studies that could be conducted, the amount of shock anyone else in this situation would go through- all unheard of.

No one else could handle it, though, besides all the people right there in the room. The best friend : self-taught and well-versed in handling him, the Coach : the authority figure that could calm him down with a bunch of fatherly words and....

And you : no one knew what the fuck you brought to the table. But something told you no one else would have survived in your shoes.

"Alright... then...?" Even Coach was absolutely speechless.

Nate nodded briskly, shooting up with a sudden burst of energy as he smiled at you.

Smiled.

Ladies and gentlemen : Nate Jacobs was on crack, confirmed.

He drew you in against his chest with an extremely unprecedented jerk, and you locked eyes with McKay behind him as he did so.

Not crack. Probably fent.

Your questioning gaze- which obviously said 'what in the everloving fuck is he doing?' - was met with a shrug and a look which suggested he barely even recognized his best friend right now.

"Okay, let's go WIN this motherfucker!", shouted Nate, patting your shoulder and loudly clapping his hands together before sprinting out of the locker rooms into the cheering football field.

It was dressed entirely in Blackhawk colours and bathed in a fluorescent, sickeningly pale light that you had to now spend an hour and a half in. Ugh.

Whiplash or not, you were about to throw up.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You know those moments after a surreal event? When you just... sit. Stare into space and... ruminate.

You were having one of those in your car. The game had ended, really well, too, with the Blackhawks winning by a landslide. Your windshield had never held such secrets before. You stared through it.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Bang.

You turned. Nate Jacobs' fist fell on your window more times than you thought was necessary. 'Unlock the door, Y/N.'

You shook your head. Not a fucking chance in hell.

"'Y/N, don't be difficult, unlock the fucking door."

Something in you told you that that would be the worst mistake of your entire life.

"I'm sorry, I just want to talk, yeah?"

You had no idea if he deliberately made it a point to rest his bandaged palm on the window in full display to manipulate you, or if it was just a coincidence.

Just a coincidence, right?

You sighed, nodding your head in the direction of the passenger's seat as you unlocked it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He slid in, grinning as he shut the door.

"You catch the touchdown?"

"Yeah. I did."

"What'd you think? Smoothest match yet?"

"Sure."

His grin gave way to a lour as he scoffed. "Why are you so cold? Our school won."

"Why am I so cold? Why am I so cold? You asshole, you just cut yourself to make me show up!"

"Because you didn't show up when I asked nicely!"

"You're a psychopath." The effect of this word on him was oddly intriguing. He seemed to both be offended by it and seemed to get off on it.

"Can I just explain?", he sighed, sucking on his teeth for a moment as he watched other students, cheering, whistling, hooting and drinking, through your windshield.

You gestured at him to continue. He wasn't worthy enough of your words.

"You know athletes have...", he trailed off, searching desperately for the right word of vindication.

"Small dicks?"

"Okay, deserved.", he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Look, we have, like... superstitions, sometimes. For luck."

"Like the hooking up thing."

"How do you know about that?"

"McKay told me."

He scoffed, shaking his head as if his friend had divulged the biggest secret, as if he had broken some moral code.

"Alright, fine, whatever. But, uh, I pretend like it's not something I do, but I kinda have them too."

If he was about to say what he was going to, you were about to press into the wound just to watch him bleed again. How dare he.

"My, um, my first game, I bumped into you on my way to the locker rooms.", he admitted, clearing his throat as if to clear space for whatever he was going to say - because it was so obviously the solution to String Theory, like he was making it out to be.

But oh, shit. He actually was going to say it.

"And we won. The next game, I did the same again, by accident. Y'know, just, this time, I fist-bumped you."

"When the fuck did you-"

"You were drunk, and you were cheering all of us on with your friends. You went for McKay's fist, but I did it instead. Uh, yeah, anyway. So, from the... maybe fourth? Yeah, the fourth game, I made it a point to at least brush my arm past you. Haven't lost a game since."

Your touch was his good luck charm? Was he clinically insane? Or was he just a massive loser?

"What's next? Our rising signs are aligned?"

"It's not a fucking joke, Y/N!", he snapped, his fist clenching.

"Really? Because it's pretty fucking hilarious."

"You know how hard it was for me to even admit I had superstitions, let alone about some random nobody girl I've never even talked to?"

No, no, he was not trying to make you feel bad, no goddamn way.

"You know how hard it was for me to see some random nobody guy bleeding out because of me?"

"It wasn't that deep." The pun was intended. It was so evidently intended that you wanted to slap the smirk off his lips.

"Yeah, okay, get out."

"Okay. You better show up to the next one, babygirl, or I'll have to take more drastic measures."

The audacious son of a bitch ruffled your hair and winked before he left.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"C'mon, Y/N, don't be a cunt. Just do it. High five me. Fist bump me. Hug me. Whatever. Just do it, I've got a game to get to. And... everyone's watching."

The very next weekend, there was another game. Last game of the season. And you were supposed to be there, of course, because Nate's 'entire life depended on it.' And what's worse? He'd dragged you there, from your internship.

That's right. He'd basically come to your place of work, interrupted a conversation with your boss, and tugged you along with him because of his borderline insane obsession with having to touch you for luck.

He could have gotten away with it, too, if his 'good luck charm' theory hadn't involved you having to make contact with him right before the game.

And now you were out there on the field. Backing away from him. Refusing.

"Y/N, please."

"Fine."

You slapped him across the face, as hard as you possibly could.

The entire football field gasped.

He'd fucked up your week with the picture of the blade carving into his skin, and now, he was fucking up your career by costing you your internship. And what's worse, he didn't even care.

"Go. Play now."

He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes to suppress his rage before he opened them again. "That's not how it works. It has to be mutual. Like a fist bump. Or bumping into each other."

"Oh, okay.", you shrugged, grabbing his wrist before using it to uppercut him. "NOW go. PLAY."

You didn't know if you were being 'whoo'd or 'boo'd by the crowd, but at this point, the only thing you could hear was the red hot fury in your boiling blood.

He bit his lip as you let go of his hand, and before he jogged out onto the field, you could have sworn he said something that, if you'd heard it right, could cut through your entire soul and ruin your self-perception for years - something absolutely, shatteringly degrading.

You hoped you'd heard wrong.

Taking your seat in the stands, you scrolled on your phone, ignoring the entire fucking game. As expected, text from your team leader.

Gone. Internship gone. LoR gone. Nate Jacobs? About to be gone.

-------

He won.

He. Fucking. Won.

And that smirk that he gave you before blowing you a kiss that immediately morphed into flipping you the bird made you want to genuinely ask him to recreate that video once again.

You hated yourself for it, but yes.

You wanted him dead.

All the trauma he'd given you the past week couldn't be left unpunished.

Oh, to knock him off his pedestal. OH, to be the one to make him scream in pain instead of arrogant mirth.

"Whoo! Nate FUCKING Jacobs, baby!", he cheered in your ear as you gritted your teeth, walking back to your car. "And, of course, you."

You threw your bags into your car, ignoring him as you get in, starting the engine. He thumped on the hood of the car. "Come on, you can't still be mad! Your boss was looking down your shirt, anyway!"

"Oh, and I'm supposed to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart?", you scoffed.

"That's right, baby, chivalry ain't dead."

"No, but you're about to be. Get the fuck out of my way."

"Hey, I need a ride. Gimme a lift."

"No chance in hell, Jacobs."

"Stop wounding me. Let me in."

"Or what?"

"I'll break your window.", he shrugged, casually. Normal things. The sun will rise tomorrow. Seasons will change. He'll break your window.

"I wouldn't be letting you in if I didn't think you were psychotic enough to actually do that."

He chuckled, sitting as he rested his duffel bag on his lap. A couple moments later, he looked up at you. "What? What are you waiting for?"

"Tell me where to go."

"You don't know where I live?"

"Okay, let me explain this to you, slowly. I didn't know jackshit about you till, like, a week ago. I didn't know your age or what kind of car you drove, or even what classes we shared, much less where the hell you live!"

"All this shit just proves that you don't observe people around you. You only care about yourself."

"If I only cared about myself, you'd have bled out last week."

He sighed playfully, resting his feet on your dashboard because he very evidently knew you would have a neurotic breakdown. "I, for one, know your age, the kind of car you drive, all the classes you have, plus your favourite colour and food."

"The first two are moot.", you replied, ignoring his silent mockery of the word 'moot'. "Next, you know I'm in all of Maddy's classes. And the rest you can find on my account. Account stalker."

"Account stalker. God, sweetheart, you're such a child. You don't want your account stalked, don't have a public one."

"I barely even post anything!"

"Oh, yeah, what about last month?"

He was looking at your profile last month? "I'd gone to France. It was a photo dump."

"It was unnecessary."

"Okay, you know what this is?"

He raised a brow.

"This is post-game audacity, is what I call it. You won. You're Mr. Big Shot, so you think you can just-"

And that's when Nate Jacobs kissed you.

To call it the worst fucking moment of your life would be a massive understatement. "Drive."

"You did not just fucking kiss me."

"You want me to do it again?"

"NO."

"Then drive."

This motherfucking bastard of a man!

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"You wanna come in?"

No way in hell were you going into Nate Jacobs' house. Especially when there was a party going strong.

"I'm good."

He rolled his eyes, his arm leaning on the top of the window as he leaned in. "I don't bite. Initially."

"Ooh, you don't bite initially, oh, please let me come in right now! Shut up and get in, Jacobs."

"You've earned the right to call me Nate. Congrats. Begin using it."

"Why? We're never talking after this."

He scoff-snickered. "Oh. OH, so that's how it is.", he nodded, amused.

"Yeah, yeah, that's how it is."

He guffawed, banging on the hood of your car. "This ain't funny anymore. Come in."

"What? No."

"Is there really only one way to ask you to do something?"

"No, Jacobs, don't you dar-"

But he didn't listen. When did he ever? His fingers emerged from his pocket with his knife in tow. NOT AGAIN. This was the most cunning, calculating, manipulative, Machiavellian-

"I'm cutting. This time, my wrist."

"You're so fucking dumb, y'know that? You're psychopathic."

The grin on his face showed that you were wrong. He wasn't offended. He was 100% getting off on it.

Drops of blood reached the floor, and you realized you couldn't just drive off and leave this guy here - he'd probably still be cutting just to prove a point.

"I hope you die.", you mumbled, getting out of your car and slamming the door.

"I'm trying, dude!", he laughed, pointing at his wrist. Oh, this sick bastard.

"Not dressing that wound?"

"C'mon, blood is sexy. Badass."

Nate Jacobs was about to see how 'badass' blood could really get.

And when you were done beating the everloving shit out of him, you kissed him. Because he deserved to know how infuriating that shit was, too.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you.He didn't seem to care about the fact that you hit him so hard he almost had a concussion. An average social media interaction. Good.

How it should be.

But then he texted you.

Fuck.

#nate euphoria #euphoria x reader #euphoria #nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs fic #nate jacobs fanfic #euphoria fic #euphoria imagine #nate jacobs imagine #euphoria x you #nate jacobs fluff #euphoria fluff #euphoria dialogue #nate jacobs blurb #nate jacobs imagines #nate jacobs oneshot #nate jacobs hc #nate jacobs drabble #nate jacobs fanfiction #euphoria smut #nate jacobs smut

[cjrights]

Ight then here we go. And dw I promise I’m not feral like aloras anons. (Btw I made this while eating Mac n cheese at like 10:30 at night).

This could be really bad so read at your own risk (I’ve never written x reader)

Paige Bueckers x Softball! Player reader! (Hcs)

Content: mentions of an injury/description of one happening, Overall just fluffy stuff.

This is my first time ever writing something like this (pls don’t make fun of me 😭 I’ll cry and probably never log back in)

Starting off with a little about yourself:

-You’ve played softball for quite a while (obviously your good if you’ve gotten to UConn) around 14 years

-You’re a catcher- and a damned good one at that. You catch for just about anyone if needed and play quite a bit.

-One thing your most renowned for are your speed and base running abilities. Very few times is someone better or faster than you on base.

-however you are on the smaller side, barely 5’4 (you give yourself an extra inch though). Many players thought your height would impede your abilities and that you were too small to be a catcher.

-but your basically the ballsiest player in the league and hate losing so you don’t go down without a fight.

Ok now that we know about you let’s get into Paige.

1. Prior to the season she likes helping you clean your bag and gear out.

“Babeeee look what I have.”

You look up briefly confused, only to burst into giggles at the sight of Paige in your catchers gear. It obviously didn’t fit- not surprising with you at 5’5 and her at 6’. The white shinguards barely reached 3/4s down her legs and the chest guard left half of her exposed.

“Paige, why are you trying on my gear?” You ask over your shoulder, turning back into your bag to grab your batting gloves and helmet out.

“I gotta make sure my girls safe!” She protested, desperately trying to put on the to small helmet. “Can’t have you getting hurt! And why’s this helmet so small?!”

“Probably cause you’ve got a big head.”

“Who wouldn’t have a big head dating someone as sexy and skilled as you,” she smirks, lightly kissing your neck as your crouched over the bat bag.

“Well I suppose I am quite skilled and sexy…” you agree lifting your head so she can kiss more easily.

“And all mine.”

“And all yours.” You agree happily. “And yours alone. Now back to work bucko!” You state lightly patting her on the chest and nudging her off kisses. “No time for that now.”

Paige resumes trying to put on the helmet, still struggling immensely, as you go through the pockets of your bag. You snicker at her troubles with the helmet, before grabbing it and sticking it on your own head. “I’ll be fine.”

“But what if-“ fine then Paige, you thought. Guess I’ve got no other choice…

She’s abruptly cut off by you smacking your helmeted head into a wall lightly then staring at her, entirely unmoved by the feel of it. The noise of it had been stronger than whatever pain it had caused. She stands there shocked for a moment, staring at you gobsmacked before reluculantly starting to take off the gear.

“Ok fine. You’re safe in this I suppose.”

You turned away from the blonde and resumed your sorting, now satisfied.

“Erm babe? could you help me out? I think I’m stuck.”

2. Her trying to carry your bag and failing miserably.

“Why the hell do you have a body bag?!” Had been her first reaction to it, which admittedly may have been justified.

But you couldn’t help it! All catchers needed a bag this big…even if it was almost your size. But with cleats, bats, gloves, your gear and everything else you needed a bag like this was a must. Even if it was probably twice your body weight.

You just shrugged and said catchers always had big bags, then started dragging it off to the UConn fields.

Now you were getting ready to board the bus for an away game in Ohio and you’d just unpacked the car. Azzi had came along to see you off alongside of Paige. You went to grab your bag, only to have Paige abruptly get in the way.

“Allow me m’lady,” she mimics, grabbing the bag handle before you can stop her.

“Baby, I love you, but you know damn well you’ll drop that.” It was true, she’d tried multiple times, and crushed multiple toes.

“No! I’m big and strong and perfectly capable of lifting my girlfriend’s bag!” She huffs and chuffs determinedly, as she drags it towards the bus, carefully lifting it up into the open back door.

Your teammates give her half weirded out-half amused look, not quite sure if they should intervene or let her learn the hard way.

Even Azzi rolls her eyes and sighs, “should we stop her before she tears another ACL?”

You sigh, Paige was one stubborn motherfucker, as much as you loved her. “Maybe that’s how she’ll finally learn not to lift a catchers bag without help.”

After a long time, filled with much painful wheezing and a red faced girlfriend she manages to get it on the bus. “See…” she wheezes, “I can so lift your bag!”

You laugh and walk over to her, stretching up on your tiptoes to kiss her lips, which she eagerly accepts gently cradling the back of your head.

“My hero,” you tease, resting your forehead against hers, relishing in the warmth of her ice blue gaze.

3. She sees you get trucked defending the plate for the first time and almost has a heart attack.

It started off as a simple play and should’ve remained simple. Then you blew it and missed the block on a wild pitch. The runner on third saw her opportunity and took it.

Thankfully you’d been quicker on your feet than the pitcher and grabbed the ball guarding the plate from the incoming runner. Normally a base runner would get tagged out on a run, or try to veer away at the last moment.

But not the Alabama girl. Nope, she’d already known you were on the smaller side- and that you never backed down. So she did the only sensible thing.

She lowered her shoulder and smashed into you at a full sprint. To your credit you got the tag and kept on your feet, just staggering slightly from the impact. What you weren’t expecting for the lights to go out a few seconds after she collided.

You didn’t remember what happened after that, next thing you knew, three coaches, the athletic trainer, and about nine concerned teammates had formed a protective barrier around you, as if they were animals guarding a hurt cub.

According to your pitcher, the Bama girls helmet had smacked with yours and with the combined effort from the rest of her body, knocked you out. Thankfully it was only for a half minute or so, and nothing was that badly hurt.

you were fine apart from having the wind knocked out of you and a thorough bit of bruising on your shoulders, chest, hips, and neck. The whole incident hadn’t even phased you that badly and after a quick test run, you were cleared to resume catching and hit a double the next inning, directly over the Bama players head, as though to say it would take more then that to bring you down.

Turns out the one more affected was your blonde girlfriend who was sitting in the bleachers

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“What the fuck was that!” The blonde all but screamed at the top of her lungs, unaware of the looks fans from both sides were giving her.

A dad who was sitting next to her gave her a look before chuckling. “That’s called trucking the catcher. Don’t worry though, she’s a tough little thing, she’ll get back up fine in a few seconds.

Paige shot him a look before glaring at the back of the Bama girls helmet, about ready to go out and beat her up herself.

“It’s called downright bad sportsmanship and dangerous! I mean she could’ve been hurt!” Her anxiety fueled the anger she was feeling, especially after seeing you wobble before your body passed out. Had it not been so crowded she would’ve been on the field herself.

The dad glanced over at her. “Seems like you care quite a bit about this catcher.”

“M’course I do. She’s my girlfriend, my baby, and it’s my job to protect her.”

He nods in understanding, glad the blonde was a bit calmer. “Don’t worry about it, she’s tough as nails. Look she’s already up again.”

She looked down and true to his word you were standing on slightly wobbly legs and doing an experimental squat to see how badly the girl had damaged you.

A breathe she didn’t know she’d been holding escaped, “thank god…” she whispered, not taking her eyes off you.

Now with you alright and her new softball dad friend she could watch the game (albeit she still growled under her breathe when the Bama girl came out). She was ready to spoil you rotten by the end of the game.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Baby, I appreciate the gesture but you don’t need to worry this much…that happens quite a lot.”

“Nope! My baby deserves all the spoiling tonight.” She stated walking in with a freshly microwaved heating pad, full bottle of water, ibuprofen, and some chocolate. “Now come on movie time.”

You couldn’t resist smiling as she climbed into bed beside you, gently draping you over her lap.

“I’m getting thrown out for starting a fist fight the next time you play Bama.” Paige mutteres suddenly.

“Paige Madison! You will not!”

“Yes I will, that stupid shortstop deserves it!”

You roll your eyes, your girlfriend was sweet, but overprotective like a damned pitbull.

“No Paigey, no fighting.”

“Fine….”

You end up dozing off before her, but not before feeling her planting gentle “feel better kisses” over every one of your bruises. And that’s why you fall asleep smiling.

Enjoy! (Also I have many more of these if wanted)

-🦦

hi this is SO cute???? i love????

you did this so well im gagged asf

more more more

#🦦 anon #i love my anons #ask #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x softball player

[lopa124]

Don't you love when a fictional (almost always) non canon couple is a blond dude (bonus point if he's taller) + a dark haired person (bonus point if they don't have a leg/harm and have scars in their face) and their adopted daughter (bonus point if she has powers)

#kazurei #kazuki kurusu #rei suwa #miri unasaka #buddy daddies #danthur #dante aop #arthur cervero #agatha volkomann #ordem paranormal #paranormal order #goldenheart #balister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #nimona #erasermic #shouta aizawa #yamada hizashi #eri #my hero academia #loidyor #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #spy x family #another bonus point if the blond one had was married and his wife died while pregnant #with just happened twice but what the hell #and idk if steve and buck had anyone where could be considered their daughter but if they had/have then I think stuck counts too #i mean lond and yor are kinda considered canon i guess? I'm not sure #and Balister and Ambrosius are 100% canon but they still fit very well in this trope so they count too

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

you want a new kind of guy, fine, i raise you: the lady i was briefly roommates with in college who once smoked a blunt at a party and then spent an hour confessing earnestly to me that she genuinely preferred reading detailed episode recaps over actually watching the tv show in question

#she sounded so remorseful & i just stood staring like an anthropologist watching their phd thesis spontaneously manifest before their eyes #apparently she would watch the pilot episode to get a feel for the characters #and then just read a bunch of recaps & episode reviews instead of watching future episodes. what fresh steaming hell #this conversation took place like a year and a half after we were roommates btw. i had seen her maybe twice in that time period #i thought she was a standard frat girl but then 18 months later she appears in the wild grass to reveal unhinged character background to me #and i'm just standing there nodding feeling like i missed a weird opportunity i did not want or ask for #honestly thought i was the weirdest person in that apartment situation but now i'm wondering what our other 2 roommates were hiding #not my strangest college experience at ALL but like. definitely top 20 #this wasn't the same person as Aquarium Girl btw but oddly enough they were roommates actually #(not at the same time that Recaps Lady and i were roommates but at different intervals idk) #anyway i probably should have interviewed at more than one apartment before taking over a sublease but summer sess is a weird time u know #oh and this happened in Hong Kong btw

[naamahdarling]

.

#my psych who prescribes my psych meds is a resident and is moving on in a couple of months #i don't even remember the names of them all at this point #this happens over and over and I cannot find a clinic that will put me with someone who intends to stay #thst will also prescribe my adhd meds #and my anxiety meds #and the real kicker is that twice now they have LIED about it and said they would #only to reveal after all the hoop-jumping that oops sorry they didn't really mean it #so it's a risk i have to take any time i leave #and rhen there's the issue of new people almost always wanting to DO something #but instead of talking to me about it they just decide that my meds need overhauling and pressure me to go off shit that works #but that they morally object to i guess #and my psych for some stupid reason has decided she wants bloodwork for my cholesterol and blood sugar stuff and im just like #what hell does THIS presage because if she harasses me about the results or tries to put me on drugs for that #I'll give her a nasty scrap about it #im not interested in those meds at all #and im certainly not messing with my diet since food is the only pleasure i get most days and even that is marginal at best #and removing that would just make me worse #but medpros for the most part really don't give a fuck about that #and so now im afraid - because i do not and cannot trust them - that if i disapprove of the meds they will retaliate somehow #which good luck proving that when management and oversight often don't even care if they course of treatment will HARM you #if it relates to being fat or having bad numbers #they just gotta pathologize! #so yeah im sick of everything and just kind of want to bury myself in a bog forever #i shouldn't have to deal with this

[ebonytails]

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

Heart rate has reached dangerous levels❗️

Initiating culling procedures.👁️‍🗨️

#Nyxus #Doe1 #ebonytailsart #did you know that ‘nyxus’ is censored on roblox bevause of the xus part. what the hell #anyway i love you horror boy #i want to get more horror images drawn for him so my first art of him was this of course #copy pasted from twitter? : #I wanted to try drawing Nyxus’s “Tunnel Mode” #which is almost like a “second stage” boss form if you were looking at it from a game perspective #But this is what happens when his system reaches its limit (like getting overwhelmed with information) #which tales a LOT to get to #Shakes you shales you do you understand. that I need to draw him and keep working on his story #im going to get a carrd pro lite subscription after jan 28 bevause im so crazy i need to add every secret and lore into his carrd #ive already made so much progress and i hit carrd limits TWICE on two different sites #i cut his site into two just to get past ot and i still failed #(spins in a circle) #from kris p #i like this a lot so im posting it to main and then ill move it to my personal blog

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

something interesting i realized just recently is that ford went back and wrote those notes in invisible ink on the anomaly entries. they were not there when he first wrote them

which means, one, he read back- at the very least- through all of the anomaly entries (i don’t have black light edition so i can’t check everything to see exactly where he added things). he wrote those entries after having already known bill. can’t imagine how it must have felt to look back on that part of his life again

two, nonetheless, even in his sleep-deprived hallucinatory state, he put in the effort to add notes. and he got all of them right (all the ones that we get to see in-show anyway). zombie skulls really can be shattered by a perfect three-part harmony. gnomes really do go feral like that. even with the hopeless situation he was in, he still thought of and put care into his research

three, it makes the quote ‘some brother you turned out to be. you care more about your dumb mysteries than your family’ really hurt. all his life, mysteries and weirdness were a comfort to him. even when he was losing his mind, being regularly injured by a demon who could actively change the way his brain functioned, anomalies were still a comfort to him. the weirdness was familiar in a way that allowed him a sense of normalcy. just a moment of calm. it’s something bill can’t take away and it’s something that can’t just leave him

and stan calls them stupid. and stan accuses ford of being selfish for pursuing them. and stan says ford is uncaring for immersing himself so heavily in them instead of turning to a family made up of an abusive threat, a pathological liar, someone who isn’t there, and someone who, in his eyes, didn’t even really ever care about him at all

and it’s the last thing he hears before he’s thrust into a foreign world that completely severs him from every source of comfort he ever had

#gravity falls #ford pines #stanford pines #moral of the story stan said just as much fucked up shit as ford did and i need the fandom to fucking acknowledge that #‘oh but stan was-’ no. zip. if ford being tortured by a demon (TWICE. THIS HAS HAPPENED TO HIM TWICE) doesn’t cut him any slack #then i don’t care what the hell stan was going through he doesn’t get any slack either #and this is what happens when you write tags at two in the morning #my apologies for the aggressiveness. not taking back my point though