most people ghost worked with had never seen him with his mask off.
but you were the exact opposite. when you'd first met him, you were his nurse. he'd broken a couple ribs and ended up bruising a lung. no big deal, but he had to spend a week in hospital and price made him take another 2 to rest. the mask inhibited his breathing, so off it came. but after those weeks with you, he never really felt the need to put it back on.
it was an aspect of his life that he stopped wanting to bring home. you had split him into two, simon and ghost. ghost stayed on base. everyday, before sliding his key into the door, he tucked the mask into his pocket. his boots stayed by the door, jacket never made it past the coat rack. his home was a sanctuary.
you drop by base one day, looking for simon so you can drop off his forgotten lunch, and tap on ghost's shoulder:
"excuse me, sir? you don't happen to know where I might find simon riley?"
this is just a silly unfinished idea that's been floating around in my head
idk if I'll ever get around to writing something real about it but for now this is it ❤︎ ⋆˚࿔
summary: what if you wished for dex to love you more than anything in the whole world?
Benjamin Poindexter x GN!Reader
tags/warning: no use of y/n, obsessive!dex, dark!reader, blood/violence, one wish willow, uncanny behavior, stalking, murder, so many red flags, naive!reader, curry barker voice cameo, etc.
masterlist
HEADCANONS
you and dex were friends for awhile now, you guys knew each other before anything of the canon plot happened
you were nice to dex but you weren't ready for a relationship
besides, dex only thought of you as a friend, especially during julie, but after she died, he looked to you
a few months later, you were looking for a gift for dex for his birthday, but he's so hard to get a gift for and you managed to find a one wish willow
you had planned on giving it to him, you think he'd appreciate the thought
you've also had a huge crush on him for a while now and you think you're ready for a relationship now
but plans went skyrocketing when dex was shot after the whole thing with fisk
instead of wishing for dex's health to get better, you were selfish
you wished for benjamin poindexter to love you more than anything in the whole world
you just didn't realize he already did
so instead, the wish just made dex more obvious in his stalking, pining, and obsessing
immediately after the wish - which you made as dex was being patched up after the event - dex woke up from where he was passed out (handcuffed to the bed)
he had one thing on his mind - you.
he asked about you, immediately, uncontrollably, fighting the restraints to the point of bleeding, yelling, glaring, growling like a feral animal
he was inconsolable until you stepped into his sight, he immediately calmed down - like a switch just flipped
it was uncanny to you, he was erratic and now he was smiling
matt and karen were immediately cautious - the way he was acting was so strange
matt was especially concerned, what with his senses and being able to read dex's body language and heart rate
you reassured them that it was just adrenaline from waking up in a strange place - but you knew something wasn't completely right
you took dex home that night
he was acting mostly normal, a little more affectionate and clingy but normal - you didn't think anything of it
up until at three a.m where you woke up, feeling unease
patting dex's spot in the bed, it was cold
you groggily raise your head to look for him, blood running cold when you see him lingering in the shadows
he was hidden in the dark like he belonged there
"dex?" you ask in a worried tone
"yes, sweetheart?" he responded, his tone sweeter than normal
that should have put you off
"what are you doing? come back to bed." you grumbled
"i will, soon." he just said, going quiet
you didn't respond, but you were off-put by his actions so you just laid back to sleep, closing your eyes
you felt him get back in the bed a few minutes later, arms wrapping around you so tightly you could hardly breathe
you wheezed lightly, patting his arms, "little less tighter," you didn't question why he was clingy
he immediately loosened his hold, but he still held you in his arms
the next morning, he was in bed with you as you woke, already watching you
you flinched in shock, not expecting it
"good morning," dex had the sweetest smile on his face as he looked down at you
it was an expression you've never seen on him
"good morning," you smiled nervously, ignoring the red flags
he leaned down and pressed his lips onto yours so sweetly, you melted
you almost got lost into it but you paused
you broke the kiss quickly, "dex, what?"
"what?" he looked concerned
"i didn't know you liked me like that." you answered, confused
dex smiled, "i do, a lot."
"oh?" you paused, content to being held in his warm embrace, "since when?"
"after julie died, it made me realize who i wanted to be with."
you should have flagged that, you were just so stupid and hopeful
"yeah?" you grinned and dex leaned down to kiss you
the first time you had sex with dex, he was more than reciprocative - he was enthusiastic
he made you come on his fingers, more than once, and then on his cock
you made him come multiple times, leaving him a whimpering mess underneath you
your first time was amazing - and so were all the others
the morning after, you had to go to work
dex made you eggs, you ate them and left to go to work, not without a goodbye kiss
you were at work, just doing your job, when you shiver, a feeling running down your spine
you looked around, there was no one of suspicion watching you to be suspicious of
you shook off the feeling, getting back to work
later that day, you returned home to dex waiting for you with a smile
"hey," you greeted him
"i missed you, sweetheart," he walked to you to place a kiss on your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him
you smiled against his lips, you didn't say anything back, so he paused
"did you miss me too?" he asked, desperately, "did you? tell me you did, please."
you pulled away from his lips, eyebrows furrowing
"did you? tell me you did, did you?" he repeated, his voice getting louder in volume, his face scrunching up in distress as he moved down to his knees, pleading and begging, pressing his face against your stomach
"yes! yes, i did, dex!" you reassured him, your hand coming up to stroke his face gently, "i missed you so much."
he calmed down, smiling softly at you and nuzzling into your hand
the first time you were genuinely worried about what dex could do was when you went out with your friends
it was a group of friends, two guys and two girls you met through school or through each other
dex had wanted to go with you, but you told him it'd be weird if he was there
he tried not to let his emotions take over him as he nodded - he would just be with you another way
you guys were watching a movie at one of the other's house when one of them - who was sitting next to you - tried to place their arm over your shoulder
your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to move away
"what are you doing?" you whispered to the friend, not wanting to disturb your other friends
"uh," the friend stumbled over their words, "i just thought-"
"don't," you warned them, moving away, leaning against the arm of the sofa.
you swear you saw a glint of something in the window, but you shrugged it off
after the hangout, you went home, finding dex waiting for you, sleeves covered in red
you froze, "dex?"
"i have a gift for you," dex started, hands covered in blood resting by his sides
"what is it?" you asked, scared but curious
"come," he grabbed your hand in his bloodied one, leading you to your bedroom as you tried not to grimace
he opened the door to the bedroom, revealing his gift
you gasped in shock, "dex, what the fuck?!"
it was your friend - the one that tried to make a move on you - their decapitated head resting on the pillow, their body moved to lay on top of the blanket, curled up in a ball
"do you like your gift, baby?" dex asked you in the sweetest voice, coming to stand behind you, peppering kisses on your neck and behind your ear
you tried not to fall into the sweet embrace as you looked at your friend's dead body
"dex, why'd you do this?" you turned around to face him, his hands moving down to rest above your elbows
"because i love you so, so, so, so, so much," dex confessed
you froze, love was a fast word for something that's only been going on for a few days
"do you love me? tell me you love me, please," dex pleaded, "please, say it, say it," his grip on your arms tightened
your mouth gaped open and close, "dex," you softly started
"say it! tell me you love me!" he yelled, but not at you, just for you, "say it!"
"i love you!" you screamed back, "i love you, dex,"
he visibly unwinded, "thank you, baby," he kissed you, pressing his lips against yours, pulling you closer
your thoughts went back to the one wish willow, that must be what caused it all
a few hours later, when dex was distracted, you found the box for the wish, reading it over
there was a customer support number on it, so you dialed it
"hello, one wish willow?" you sounded unsure as you asked
"sure, what's up?" the voice on the other end asked
"if i made a wish and i want to alter it, could i do that?" you asked, rubbing in between your brows
"uh, that's not really how that works," the voice said
"how does it work then?" you snapped
"well you make a wish and it lasts forever," they answered
"forever?" you gaped in shock
"or you know, until you die."
you pinched the bridge of your nose, "well, is it real?"
"is what real? the wish?"
"is his love real? does dex actually love me?" you tried not to let your voice crack
"depends, did he love you before the wish?"
"i don't know!" you exclaimed, "how would i even know that!"
"do you wish to talk to dex?"
"what do you mean?" you asked, confused
"oh, wait, that's weird," the voice paused
"what?"
"he's not here," the voice hummed, "that only means one thing," they sounded amused now
"what?" you were tired of the vague answers, "can you just be frank for once?!"
"that's not my name," they retorted, "your dex isn't here, the wish didn't work,"
you paused, "what does that mean?"
"it means while you made a wish, it had already came true, so everything dex is doing is of his own accord. the wish only made him bolder," they explained
"oh, so what now?" you questioned
"now, he's all yours, have fun," they hung up and you slowly put your phone down
that whole conversation just meant dex actually loved you and this was his way of showing it
"hey," dex pressed himself against your back
"hi," you replied, leaning back into him, mind still reeling
"who were you talking to?" he asked, obsessively
"just a friend," you lied, turning around to face him
well, he actually loved you, it wasn't just from the wish, huh.
content: fluff, 2nd pov, slightly (?) longer fic, hands 😋, inspired by this tiktok (not george but same vibes 😌)
a/n: all i could say is thank you so much for the insane support. i honestly didn't anticipate that 'His Smile' would get any attention at all . anyways, if you want to be added to the taglist, please let me know!
p.s. i'm sorry this took so long. work and med school are not in my favor this month 🤧 i also may or may not have procrastinated as well. so, for future parts, please expect it will take long — mostly because i work well without deadline or expectations XD
p.p.s sorry for any spelling or grammar errors. my dyslexia is not bloody cooperating. and apologies if it's not as good as the first one, i'm running a bit on fumes when writing this 🤧
Being a prefect has its advantages. For one, you get to scold annoying gits with no repurcussions — to an extent, of course! Two, you have access to the greatest bathroom there is in the castle. Three, you get the earliest gossip of anything happening in Hogwarts — student and faculty alike!
Then, there's the unfortunate disadvantages.
Not only have you been covering people's shift in night patrols — because you are too kind for your own good — now, your presence is demanded for a whole week to decorate the Great Hall and certain corridors of the castle for freaking Valentine's Day.
All because Professor Dumbledore seemed to have liked the ex-DADA Professor Lockhart's idea of puking pinks, reds, and whites 'to illuminate the gloomy halls of this school'. Headmaster's words, not yours.
But, alas, with how humongous this school is, the student manpower is at odds. The week is almost over and the Great Hall and corridors looked like they were being torn apart instead of being decorated. It seems magic can't do everything.
"We called for volunteers from each house," your Head Girl grins widely as she returned from her ultimate expedition of gathering 'reinforcements'.
You tilt your head to look at the 'volunteers' that thudded behind her.
None of them looked happy to be there.
Is what you wanted to say to her if your eyes hadn't locked in on one volunteer.
George Weasley.
Your friend, who seemed to have materialized beside you out of nowhere, elbows you. "Prince charming is here," your friend states with a knowing grin.
"Shut it," you sent her a warning glare as you rubbed the spot she hit.
Then, Hermione Granger, one of the Gryffindor prefects, grins at you as she pulls Harry and Ron from behind her which pulled a chain of tugging from the begrudging Gryffindor 'volunteers'.
You could even hear her scold Ron, saying things like 'Ron, you're a bloody prefect too. Stop being so difficult!'
From what you can deduce, Hermione had forced Ron — another Gryffindor prefect — to force Harry, his brothers, and their friends to aid the decorating team.
"I've gathered us most of Gryffindor's Quidditch players, they can do a lot of heavy-lifting tasks," Hermione turns to you. And for a moment, you forgot that you were the one leading the labor force of the decorating team as you stared at her, still slightly dumbfounded that George Weasley is here.
"Y-Yeah, sure," you cleared your throat as you nodded.
"Wait, aren't you the smile girl?" Fred's voice suddenly cuts through your dreamy haze that soon became embarrassment.
George elbows his grinning twin before turning to you. "Sorry 'bout him, love. He's a bit of a loony," he smiles softly as Fred huffs out an offended 'Hey!' beside him.
Love. That word nearly took you out.
"I-It's okay— Um, I need you to divide your group into three," you cleared your throat again, trying your best to gather your bearings and not embarrass yourself further in front of him.
"One will stay here in the Great Hall with me. The others will go to the corridors with Ernie and Padma, separately," you gestured at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw prefect beside you.
You watched as the group moves like an adorable, chaotic version of the boat is sinking. Some were even fighting to be in certain groups.
While you were too busy being amused at the chaos of red and gold, you failed to notice that a certain ginger boy had settled himself beside you.
"So, what are we going to do?" George asks with that troll-killing smile of his.
"Um— We're, uh—"
"Y/N's finishing up the paper garlands. But, there's still a lot to do — might need some help in there," your friend answers for you with that infuriating grin of theirs.
You don't know if you should thank her or strangle her.
"Alright. Lead the way, love," George — bless him — smiles softly at you as he extends his arm in gesture for you to, in fact, lead the way.
Your friend mouths 'Good luck' from behind you. You haphazardly mouthed a curse at her, and she just laughs at you.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
"Then, you fold it this way," you state as you looked over to your side, watching if George was doing it correctly. You nod in approval as he does.
"That was... complicated and easy at the same time. Weird," George grins, "and you improvised this because you find the one in the book to be too time consuming?" George watches you nod like it wasn't a big deal. It was.
"How brainy," George adds.
You playfully scrunched your nose at the awful attempt of a compliment. "You need to work your on your vocabulary," you chuckled.
"What? Like resplendent? I don't think my brains cut out for that level of braininess, love," George grins.
"I—" you flushed and turned to George, huffed through your nose with your lips pressed in a thin line and a look that says 'really? you just gotta go there, didn't you?'
"Sorry, sorry," George laughs, hands raised in appeasement, before returning to his paper garlands to finish up.
For a moment, the two of you sit comfortably together, folding paper garlands and exchanging light conversation. But, of course, in the midst of it, your eyes couldn't help but flicker towards him ever so often.
How could anyone blame you, really? For someone his age, his got hands for days.
Then, you watched him rolled his sleeves up, face frowned in concentration as he moves onto his next batch of garlands — and, Merlin help you — you think you might actually combust at how hot that was.
That's not all, see those long, prominent veins that wraps around his forearms? Ugh, absolute heart palpitations. Those long, slender, and calloused fingers of his from Quidditch practice and prototyping pranks — an absolute product of his hardwork? Yup, oxygen just left your lungs.
Oh, and if anybody asks how you know he practices more times than his teammates or how he tests his prank gadgets often? Well, let's just say a girl never reveals her secrets.
He's got the biggest hands you've seen in Hogwarts. You just know that anything he holds in them will be engulfed with warmth, and utterly protected. You'd be a total puddle if he ever wraps his hands on you.
Your eyes continued to follow his every move. Every time his finger slids on the paper to fold a crease, you wonder how it would feel to intertwined your hands together. Would his dwarf yours? Would it feel warm like a cozy fire or hot like a blazing furnace? Would yours and his fit like a puzzle piece waiting to meet? How would it feel to trace his veins up his arm? How—
"Ow!" you winced as the paper you had been absentmindly folding pricks you.
"You okay?" George frowns, eyebrows scrunching in worry as he takes your hand in his before you could blink.
"Y-Yeah, I'm okay, really...!" you chuckled nervously as his hands engulfed yours completely. Seriously, is that hand size normal??
George ignores you as he inspects the bit of blood the paper cut has drawn out of you, still having that frown on his face as if how dare the paper hurt you.
You hoped he doesn't hear how much your heart is hammering through your chest right now.
Then, he grabs something from his pocket and wraps a tiny bandaid around your finger with the utmost of care.
"I don't quite have the knack for healing spells. So, you'd have to settle for this one," George grins as he gently runs his thumb across the surface of the bandaid.
"Thank you, George," you smiled softly at him before returning to your garlands.
If you would have stared a little longer at him, you would have seen the blush that crept up on his cheeks. But, unfortunately, you only heard him clear his throat as he returns to his own garlands. You also don't notice how George himself had a paper cut a few minutes later, and had healed himself easily with a wordless spell.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
"Why not just use magic to hang these up?" George asked as he raised the finished garlands.
"My magic is in need of some practice when it comes to precise placement. And, I hate having these look crooked up there," you gestured at the walls where the garlands were supposed to go.
"Can you grab that for me?" you pointed at the ladder by the side, trapped and surrounded by boxes of decorating supplies and tools.
George nodded, already moving to grab it.
It was a simple request. A simple favor. So, why were you frozen in place, eyes tracing along his arms as you watched him criminally fold his sleeves for the second time today before bending down to carefully move the objects aside around the ladder so he could grab the very ladder you asked him to get?
It didn't help that you saw the way the muscles of his arm tense and contract so beautifully, so deliciously. It might be your imagination, but you feel like the veins on his forearm are going to pop if he moves more.
Honestly, could this man get anymore detrimental to your health?
"Here you go," George grins as he sets the ladder in front of you like it was the easiest thing in the world.
"Thanks," you squeaked out and hurried to climb on it before he gets the chance to see how flustered you were by him simply moving a bloody ladder.
But in your hurry, the ladder wobbled and you felt yourself start to slip.
"Ah—"
But, then, a firm set of hands clasps on your waist to steady you.
"You okay, love?"
You felt yourself shiver when you felt his breath on your back through your shirt.
"Y-Yes. Thank you, George. You— uh, you can let go now." You squeaked out body stiffer than an effect from a Petrificous Totalus spell.
George only chuckles at you, "I'm not taking any chances, love."
Your hands tremble as you try to hang the bloody garlands while his hands remained on your waist. The warmth from them seeps into your skin through your top and makes you light in the head.
You did try to focus on your task at hand, but all you could think about is how big his hands felt on your waist. Your mind latches on how firm and grounded he feels, and you know for a fact that there is no chance of you slipping with him protecting you from behind.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Hours later, you finally got a breath out as you waved at the leaving crowd of volunteers while some of them waved back at you. And, yes, George was one of them.
"Saw you earlier — that was some strategical flirting. Color me impressed," Your friend grins as they emerged from beside you.
"I nearly cracked my skull open and the first thing you say to me is that? What a friend you are.'" I turned to her with an unimpressed look.
hiii guys so umm, it's been so long since I posted on Tumblr,,, (and this is also the first time I'm posting under these tags) BUT I JUST CAN'T GET c!Technoblade OUT OF MY HEAD 😭 GOSH, I miss my DSMP phase 🥀🥀🥀
anyways, pronouns used are she/her (i'll try my best to do gender neutral next time) and plz enjoy this little oneshot I conjured up from the depths of my drafts and lmk if I should make more!!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
Where the Water Breaks | c!Technoblade x Reader Oneshot
The river foams white over slick stones, narrow but wild. It isn’t wide enough to warrant a bridge, yet the current is strong enough that one wrong step could sweep a person under. You eye the stretch of water, calculating the jump from rock to rock.
“I can make it,” you mutter, testing the weight of your pack. “Just a little hopping. Easy.”
“Easy until you break your leg,” Technoblade grunts from beside you. His crimson cloak drags against the damp grass, his pink hair darkened by the morning drizzle. He looks like a warlord, considering the best way to conquer a battlefield, not a simple river crossing.
You roll your eyes, trying not to smile. “You think I can’t cross a river? It's not that deep.”
He doesn’t answer. His gaze narrows, measuring the way the current pulls, how the rocks glisten, thinking of a way out of this. It certainly didn't help that the voices were screaming in his ear right now.
PORKCHOP DON'T LET HER DO PARKOUR!
we know her track record 😭
“it’s not that deep” ok philosopher
YOOO TECHNO WE SHOULD CARRY HER
yes! impress her with ur strength 😌
Techno exhales through his nose, as though patience alone could silence the chaos. Then, without warning, his arms hook under you, one behind your back, one beneath your knees, and suddenly you’re airborne.
A startled sound escapes your throat as his arms hold you bridal-style, lifting you like you weigh no more than a feather. Your hands automatically clutch at his cloak to steady yourself, fingers brushing against solid muscle beneath his armor.
“Techno!” you blurt. “What—what are you doing?!”
“This is practical,” he replies flatly, starting down the embankment as if that single word is enough explanation.
You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Practical? This is your definition of practical?”
“Safer this way.” His voice is curt, but his ears burn pink against his pale hair. He doesn’t meet your eyes.
YOOOOOOOOOO
POG POG POG POG
Simpnoblade strikes again!
Chat, clip it, CLIP IT. 😭😭😭😭
“practical” bro just admit u down horrendous
not the disney prince arc 😭
The river crashes around his boots as he wades in, current tugging hard at his legs, but he moves steadily, unbothered. You’re nestled against him, arms looped around his shoulders, because what else are you supposed to hold onto?
“You know,” you mutter, trying to cover your own fluster with sass, “this feels a little like an excuse. You just wanted to carry me.”
His grip tightens slightly. “…No.”
Liar. LIIIAR. Red-handed. Red eared too.
spam HEARTS if you ship it 💗
“no” he says while clutching her like a gapple 🥀
Drop her in the river as a prank. Funny prank. Don’t listen to us, but also… funny.
imagine being 6’3 and losing to her smile💔
He pretends the voices aren’t there, pretends this is only logic and not the way his chest warms at the sight of you holding onto him. He focuses on the stones underfoot, on the weight in his arms, and definitely not on how right it feels.
Water sprays against his cheek, trickling down his jaw. You snort, amused at how stiff he suddenly seems. “You’re blushing.”
“Cold,” he insists flatly, not daring to look at you.
It’s a terrible excuse. The voices cackle in his head.
bro rolled his eyes like we’re the problem
‘cold’ WE'RE COOKED. SHE'S ONTO YOU
nah he’s overheating
SIMP SIMP SIMP SIMP S-
😭😭😭
RIZZLESS WARLORD.
even Phil’s facepalming rn🥀
The water rises to his thighs, spraying against you both, and for a moment, you swear you hear him muttering something under his breath. By the time he reaches the far side, his ears are practically glowing.
He steps onto solid ground and still doesn’t set you down immediately. You raise a brow. “Well? Or are you planning to carry me the rest of the way, too?”
“…See? Practical,” he says again, but even he sounds like he doesn’t believe it this time.
“practical” my brother in christ u r holding her BRIDAL STYLE
simp alert 🚨 simp alert 🚨
W RIZZ, W RIZZ, W RIZZ
“let her down” nah keep her forever idc
caught lacking 😭
You laugh, bright and unbothered, and only then does he reluctantly lower you to the grass. His hands linger a second longer than necessary, then pull away as he turns sharply toward the trees.
You adjust your pack, blissfully unaware of the voices in his head screaming over themselves. To you, it was just another overprotective, awkward moment. To him, it was both agony and triumph, the voices cheering, heckling, chanting his secret feelings into the void.
And he couldn’t disagree with them. Not this time.
you and isaac go on the annual spring camping trip with your school and slowly realize friendship isn’t what you guys want.
♪ ─── warnings: mild slow burn, idk much ab camping or the 90s, isaac in the wilderness, friends to lovers, no y/n, 2nd pov, read in light mode pls, idk how isaac would act in this scenario lowkey, vaguely proofread, vague outcast trait reader, she/her isn’t explicitly used
♪ ─── word count: 1.7k
a/n: first post in millennia 🥲 maybe a little rusty but I think there’s been a lot of improvement since last time ! also idk how many more parts there’ll be i just know I have a plot in mind
You had never woken up earlier than 7am for school; there simply wasn’t a reason to. Breakfast was served at 8am, on the dot, and classes began 35 minutes afterward. Life at Nevermore was fairly easy.
Sign-ups for the camping trip opened in early May, a few weeks prior. It was a simple process— grab a form, fill it out accurately, and hand it in at the Main Office before June 1st. There were only 2 requirements to be considered an attendee:
1. Maintain a B+ or higher in all courses
And
2. Accumulate no disciplinary referrals leading up to the trip
This organized expedition was meant to motivate the underperforming and reward the well-behaved students with a weekend at Camp Sleep Hollow.
Very simple, very straightforward. However, there was one particular classmate you desperately wanted to attend— the illustrious and allusive Isaac Night.
Convincing Isaac to sign up was the biggest struggle of your life. You begged, bribed, and bartered to appeal to his monotonously drab senses. You curated a persuasive essay in hopes of making him even consider it—
“Isaac,” you chirped, sitting on the barstool beside him. He gave a vacant hum in acknowledgement; his attention primarily focused on the assignment before him. “I need you to read this,” you added, dropping a short stapled packet over his notebook.
Isaac froze for a moment and considered it. You stifled a giggle, imagining gears in his head turning, running calculations on whether or not he should neglect your feelings or entertain your idea.
“You want me to proofread it?” Isaac finally asked, slowly picking it up. “Your handwriting could use some fine tuning,” he squinted.
“No, I want you to just read it,” you stated.
He already was.
“Hm,” Isaac mused, eyes darting across the page. He dared not to look up, pretending to be absolutely engrossed in your writing. You watched him eagerly, as he flipped to the next sheet.
“What do you th—?”
Isaac raised his index finger at you, “Shhh.”
Wow, okay, you thought. You sat there patiently, swinging your legs and bopping your head to a nonexistent melody. Your gaze switched between the chalkboard to the desks, to Isaac, the nearby lab stations, the cabinets, and back to Isaac.
A few minutes passed. He finished up the last paragraph with a slight nod. “Cute,” Isaac grumbled under his breath. You were unsure if it was in mocking or subtle degradation. He handed you back the packet. “I applaud the effort, but the answer’s no,” he said bluntly.
You groaned.
Obviously, he was more convinced than he originally let on— or your persistent nature wore him down to rubble, because here you two were, standing in a long line of peers, waiting to be checked in and board the bus. Isaac Night wouldn’t be Isaac Night if he agreed without unnecessary bickering, kicked up dirt, and depressed sighs. And you wouldn’t be you if you hadn’t relentlessly nagged, guilt-tripped, and wailed to make him subside.
A thick fog blanketed the valley, leaving a dewy finish on everything the mist touched. The sun barely poked its head over the horizon. Students dropped off their luggage in a pile for Professors Aparico and Lafontaine to stash in the bus’s undercarriage compartment.
You yawned, your arms wrapped around themselves with the feigned belief it maintained your balance. You felt as if you’d topple over from tiredness any second. At least you were cozy in your hoodie.
Isaac nudged you with his elbow. “If only you could sleep like a horse,” he jokingly quipped. Groggy-eyed, you slowly turned towards his gravelly voice. Isaac blinked, unsure of your reaction. “They can sleep standing up,” he clarified. He hid his hands inside his coat pockets.
“Meh meh meh meh,” you mocked, pitching your voice higher, twitching your head subtly with each word. Isaac snickered at your antics. “I know how horses sleep,” you grumbled back.
Isaac nudged you again, this time alerting you to walk forward; the line was moving. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the coffin, huh?” Isaac teased softly.
“Meh meh meh meh,” you repeated, stepping up to Professor Sontoro.
The math teacher held a clipboard, crossing out names with his black ballpoint pen. He glanced up at you guys. “Check and… check,” he mumbled, waving for you to board.
The back of the charter bus always filled up fast (you were always unsure why), so you and Isaac crammed into the middle section. Out of courtesy, he gave you the window seat.
You leaned your head against the glass pane, and Isaac visibly flinched. The ride surely won’t be smooth enough for the position to be remotely comfortable. “Are you sleeping for the next two and a half hours?” Isaac asked.
Temptation to blatantly ignore him was high, as the answer should’ve been fairly obvious. “Yes,” you responded anyway. You closed your eyes.
You gained consciousness when the kink in your neck became unbearable, and the right side of your face felt sore, as if someone’s shoulder had been jammed into your cheek. You peeled open your eyes to realize that’s exactly what happened.
You sat up. Isaac, at some point, must’ve offered his shoulder to sleep on. In a daze, you accepted— or perhaps you forced him to support your need for rest. Either way, muscles were currently hurting.
The campgrounds slowly faded into view, as the bus drove down a gravel filled path. At the entrance was a tall archway reading ‘CAMP SLEEPY HOLLOW’ in bright orange colors. A large clearing followed, occupied by simply-decorated rustic buildings. The bus came to a halt.
“Isaac,” you grabbed his adjacent shoulder and shook him. He did not stir. “Isaac,” you repeated once more, watching his brown eyes flutter open.
Isaac cleared his throat, as if he was testing his vocal cords. He massaged the space above his nose bridge, taking in a steady breath. “We’re here?”
You continued observing him. Your brows crease unnoticeably, because you suddenly can’t recall ever catching Isaac sleepy til now. “No, we drove off a bridge,” you corrected sarcastically.
Isaac scoffed at your tone and looked outside. “Didn’t know heaven was in Vermont,” he said, playing along.
You snorted. “As if you’d get in.”
Isaac chuckled; he was about to speak until Professor Lafontaine stood up at the front of the bus. She commanded the students’ attention, as the doors creaked open and two teachers slid out to greet the awaiting administrators.
“Everyone, listen up, please,” the blonde woman exclaimed. Whatever conversation that was happening gradually died down. “Once we’re off the bus, do not wander around. Stay put. The counselors are gonna say a few things; be respectful, no chitchatting while they’re speaking, okay? Afterwards, we will head to the Mess Hall,” Lafontaine pointed at the large lodge on her right. “Please, make sure you get all of your belongings. This bus won’t come back til Monday morning. We cannot promise that whatever you leave will remain in here.”
Señora Barbarossa, the werecat Spanish teacher, stood up as well. She gestured at the front seat. “Can we all please thank Miss Reefs for driving us?”
“Thank you, Miss Reefs,” the students unanimously sang.
You saw the woman’s smile reflected in the big rearview mirror. Señora Barbarossa and Professor Lafontaine exited the bus, and everyone else hesitantly waited to follow pursuit. They were grabbing their jackets and backpacks expectantly.
Isaac stood up and a few of his joints cracked accidentally. You cringed at the unpleasant sound. Somehow, he noticed and uttered a short sorry.
You poked his back a few times. “Excited to start your weekend getaway?”
Isaac smiled, relieved to see your mood improved by the nap. He turned around, rolling his eyes. “Oh, you bet I am,” Isaac shot back.
After a filling breakfast (there was a wide variety of fruit salads, yoghurt, and sandwiches), a lengthy orientation (you blocked out most of it), and a brief tour (which you spent whispering to Isaac), the temperature had spiked with the sun’s adherence to the sky throne.
You and your temporary new roommates, Blythe, Makani and Yasmin, began to unpack in your ‘home away from home.’ The 3 of them had been your closest friends since middle school; you quietly thanked the universe for letting you pick your roommates.
The cabin was quaint, but fairly big to house 4 people. Two pairs of bunk beds were wedged in opposite corners, dividing them was a wardrobe. On the other side of the room, there was a vanity table, a closet, dressing screen, and a full-length mirror. Bed assignments were randomized, so for the weekend, you’d be sleeping on the bottom bunk. Sections of the vanity were being claimed to stash shower caddies, makeup bags, and other personal belongings.
You were changing into lighter clothes, since the weather allowed, behind the folded out room divider.
Knock knock knock.
“Hold on!” Blythe called out, as she slipped a shirt onto a plastic hanger.
The cabin could only be locked from the inside (but counselors had keys for security reasons). If all 4 of you decided to go out, that meant you had to leave the door unlocked. Staff members felt confident enough that the students were mature and past thievery.
Yasmin was closest to the door. She sprayed on deodorant and said, “I’ll get it.” The psychic swung the door open. “Isaac,” she announced to the room. “Here to pick up a certain somebody,” Yasmin teased.
You peeked your head around the dressing screen. Eek! You accidentally made eye contact, before hiding behind the divider.
Yasmin let Isaac in. Even though they perceived him as… peculiar… they thought he was undeniably hot in his own… unique way. You didn’t see it, because that’s a strange thing to think of your friends.
Hastily, you pulled your tank top down your torso and shoved your feet into your sneakers.
Your words came out slightly slurred together, as you stepped out of the dressing corner. “What’re you doin’ere?”
“Takes two to canoe,” Isaac shrugged. He had shed his jacket to reveal a black shirt. You recognized the band graphic; it was this niche Romanian group he loved. You couldn’t recall the pronunciation. “Wanna go with me?” Isaac casually asked.
You looked over at your friends. Blythe gestured at herself and Makani. “We’re gonna go to the archery field,” she said.
“I need a shower,” Yasmin added. “Heading to the bathhouse now, actually,” she grabbed a small pile of clothes and her bag of toiletries. “Excuse me, Isaac,” she said, heading towards the door. He moved out of her way.
“Blythe, let’s head out,” Makani suggested. “Don’t wanna be last in line.”
And just like that, Isaac and you were alone together. You thought it mildly strange how your friends were seemingly eager to abandon you. A distant chirping of crickets would be the cherry on top.
Isaac awkwardly looked around the room, arms akimbo. “Do they… do they hate you or something?” Isaac inquired.
sum. gojo satoru was your best friend. he was the one who showed up with ramen and terrible movies. he was the one who'd been in love with you since freshman orientation. you didn't know. not until he confessed in your dorm room, voice shaking, glasses crooked, telling you he'd already picked out a spot for your books in his apartment. this is the story of how satoru stopped pretending — and how you finally saw what was right in front of you.
SATORU AS YOUR BOYFRIEND
pairing. gojo satoru x f!reader
sum. he's loud, annoying, and absolutely insufferable — but he's also yours. gojo satoru is many things: the strongest sorcerer alive, a menace to society, and a man who has never been jealous a day in his life. (until some guy puts his hand on your lower back at a work event, and he learns something new about himself.) from jealousy to heartbreak, from aquarium dates to summer festival confessions, from mood swings to carrying you back to bed — this is a collection of soft, fluffy and vulnerable moments with satoru as your boyfriend. he's down bad, he's not subtle about it, and honestly? you wouldn't have it any other way.
TAKE WHAT'S MINE
pairing. ceo!gojo satoru x secretary!f!reader
sum. you become executive assistant to gojo satoru, tokyo's most impossible CEO — brilliant, bored, and so used to people breaking that he's forgotten what it feels like to be challenged. you don't break. you push back. you correct him. you make him work for it. and satoru, surprised and then completely obsessed, starts manufacturing crises just to keep you close. the contest of wills turns into something hungrier — until a job offer threatens to separate you. his composure cracks. the confession isn't careful. he doesn't want you as his assistant. he wants you as his.
could you make bf hcs for justin law ???? / nf !!!! - fef
To be entirely honest anon I have no clue what 'nf' stands for and google couldn't tell me so I'm hoping it's not too important
(I swear this doesn't show my age, I'm not a secret forty-five year old man)
Justin Law as your Boyfriend
word count; 750
there are two things in this world that Justin Law prioritizes
Lord Death and you
and unfortunately both are just about equal in his heart
Justin Law is first and foremost a death scythe, he made that clear when the two of you first started going out
he's been working as a weapon since he was young so it's an integral part of who he is
but that doesn't mean he doesn't care about you at all
on the contrary, Justin is very fiercely loyal to you
he sings your praises to anyone that will listen and supports you in every way he can
have you seen how Justin preaches about Lord Death? you best believe he's talking the same way about you
Justin's love language is quality time
in an ideal world Justin Law is attached to your side at all times
you watch him train and if you're a weapon or meister yourself you join him
sleepovers! you two start living together fairly close into your relationship
he wakes up fairly earlier than you, to train, pray and watch the sunrise
if you're still sleeping by the time he's done he'll wake you up gently with a cup of your favorite beverage
if you wake up with or around him it would secretly make him happy that you join him; just quiet mornings of enjoying each other's presence
earnest in the best way possible; Justin Law says what he means and is almost incapable of lying to you
and you'd be lying yourself if you said you didn't find it endearing
he has such a willingness to please
tries to be helpful around the house, buys small gifts he thinks you'll like, washes dishes after you cook (because he really can't) and is always so appreciative whenever you go out of your way to do something for him
he knows he isn't the most suave or rugged so instead Justin focuses on just being kind and sweet
that said, no one, and I mean no one messes with you and gets away with it
he's possessive in the way he defends you
someone bumps into you? a death glare until they apologize
another guy is bothering you? guillotine. immediately
you're practically his entire world and he will be damned if you're inconvenienced
and it doesn't even matter if you can stick up for yourself or not, he just thinks you shouldn't have to
in public Justin isn't a huge fan of pda, the most he usually allows is for you to hold onto his arm and drag him around with a soft smile on his face
but in private he is all over you, arms constantly wrapped around you and pressing kisses to wherever he can reach
speaking of, the way Justin Law looks at you makes you question whether you hung the planets and stars
god he's such a yearner
he looks at you like you're made of an ethereal beauty he just can't help but be in awe of
whenever you're in the same room as him he stares at you with such a lovestruck expression
he's so good with words and doesn't even know it
every compliment or remark he whispers in your ear has you blushing with a chill down your spine
"you look so alluring my love, it's as if the gods made the stars come to life"
and then he's confused why you can't look him in the eye your face is so red
he's such a good communicator omggg
when the earbuds are out Justin tends to be a tad socially awkward and sometimes doesn't quite understand certain social situations
so he's gotten very well at expressing himself so that there aren't any miscommunications on his part
unfortunately whenever there is a miscommunication between you two his child prodigy syndrome kicks in and typically assumes you're in the wrong
he does eventually realize when things are his fault but he's been told from a young age how talented and incredible he was that his ego's a little high in his belief that he doesn't make mistakes
it's a small bump the two of you had to ride out together but with time, patience and a little self-evaluation it sorted itself out fairly quickly
as a whole, the relationship between you and Justin Law is loving, balanced and filled with adoration and devotion
he's lanky and awkward and has a big head sometimes but you genuinely couldn't imagine anyone else for you
This is a Lars Lindstrom X Male reader fic, I also wanted to point it out that it is written in 2nd person pov.
I also tried to make it as ambiguous as possible with race, and weight.
You have a sister named Andrea whose race also isn't specified (but if there is anything that would mean otherwise, please let me know!) This is more of an introduction, and overall just a part 1 of this, so I hope you enjoy how I portray you and Lars.
ALSO, this is set a around the same time of after the movies ending, or a bit after. Karin gave birth to a baby girl named Elinor.
Anyways, enjoy it!
The road is slightly bumpy, the gravel beneath your old car hard enough to make it rattle and shake. Every pebble feels like it's trying to knock something loose on the frame.
Looking in the rearview mirror. Cardboard boxes are stacked unevenly in the backseat and trunk, stuffed full with whatever pieces of your life could actually fit into the car. Clothes, books, and random junk you probably should’ve sold years ago but couldn’t help yourself to leave behind.
A tired sigh escapes your lips, shoulders aching from your hands being on the wheel for so long, alongside with exhaustion kicking in.
You almost wish you didn’t hit the road and head down to where your sister lives, but it was for the better.
Having to remind yourself of that constantly, even with your numb butt gnawing at the thought saying otherwise.
Then finally, you see the sign come into view, welcoming you into the small town in Wisconsin.
Sometimes you still wonder why your sister decided to live out here. This small town feels suffocating just thinking about it. Everybody knows everybody else’s business, gossip spreading faster than the wind that kicks around trash.
Still… Maybe there was something comforting about it too.
Quiet streets.
Familiar faces.
A life simple enough to actually breathe.
You turn onto another gravel road, tires slipping slightly on the loose stones before you quickly straighten the wheel.
“Loose gravel is gonna kill you one day.” The thought drifts through your head automatically.
After another minute or two, the rough road turned into smooth pavement. The neighborhood ahead is small and sleepy, lined with aging houses, lined with overgrown weeds and grass with the occasional yard decoration.
Slowing the car down, scanning house after house while trying to remember your sister's description of her own.
“Small white house, looks like it got the landlord special, uh– has Christmas lights on the railings.”
You snort quietly to yourself, remembering your sister's words over the phone. Some of your humor definitely rubbed off on her over the years.
At last, you see the house she described, alongside her sitting outside waiting in the cold weather.
Rolling down your window, “Andrea, what the hell are you doing, it’s freezing outside?”
Your voice rings out when you finally park the car, leaving the driver's seat with an appreciated groan and finally getting to stretch your legs.
“I had to make sure you didn’t get lost!” A shiver in her voice, while her boots crunch the thin layer of snow on her porch steps.
“And freeze your tits off?” Your voice has humor laced in it, as she smacks your arm at the comment, even if she has a smile on her face.
“Thank you, Andrea, it was really sweet of you to wait outside in the cold for me, Andrea,” she does an okay impression of your voice.
“Wow, thank you Y/N, I’m so glad you appreciate my selflessness!”
“Okay– okay, I got it.”
Your eyes roll affectionately as you pop the trunk, grabbing a box.
“But, seriously, thank you, I’m sure it’s a bit annoying having your brother move in.”
Appreciation finally showing, even if it's a bit bashful.
Andrea’s expression softens at that, the teasing grin melting into something quieter, more genuine. Snow catches in the strands of her hair while she stuffs her hands in her pockets.
“It’s not annoying,” she says, nudging the box in your hands lightly. “You know that.”
You huff out a small laugh, adjusting the box into your arms. “Still, feels kinda weird to move into your place now.”
Andrea snorts. “Please, half the stuff I know about surviving came from you.”
“That sounds concerning.”
“I mean it.” Her voice drops softer this time, boot crunching through the snow as she walks beside you towards the porch. “You practically raised me, remember?’
This comment hits harder.
Not because it wasn’t true.
It’s just from how casually she says it, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
You remember late nights helping her with her homework at the kitchen table because nobody else would.
Making cheap boxed dinners and pretending like they’re the best dish ever made.
Walking her to school.
Staying awake while she was sick.
Learning how to braid her hair with shaky and unsure hands, but you learned.
You were barely old enough yourself back then.
“Well,” you clear your throat, trying to brush off the sudden heaviness in your chest, “look how great you turned out.”
Andrea immediately grins. “Emotionally damaged but funny?”
“Exactly.”
She laughs, bumping her shoulder into yours hard enough to almost knock the box out of your hands.
“Seriously though,” she says quieter, opening the front door. Warm air spills out instantly, carrying the smell of candles and something slightly burnt. “You don’t gotta thank me for staying out here waiting for you. You’d do the same for me.”
You pause in the doorway for just a second.
Because she's right.
You always would.
Andrea notices the look on your face and immediately points it accusingly. “Don’t get all emotional on me now.”
“I’m not emotional.”
“You literally have the older sibling stare right now.”
“The what?”
“The ‘I sacrificed my teenage years for you’ stare.”
“That is not a thing.”
“It absolutely is,” She grabs the lighter box from your arms, before you can argue. “ Now hurry up before your old man's knees give out in the cold.”
“You’re twenty-three.”
“And you’re ancient to me.”
“I almost forgot how annoying you can be.”
A scoff leaves your lips, as you now look around in her house, eyeing some pictures she has.
“You mean annoyingly loveable,” Placing the box down near the couch in the living area.
“What’re you looking at?”
You stare at a picture, with a few other ladies around your sister and a… Doll in a wheel chair?
“What is this?” Pointing at the framed photo, specifically at the doll.
Andrea makes her way over, peering over your shoulder a bit.
“Oh, that's Bianca, I can explain it all to you, it’s kinda complicated.”
You give her a look, a bewildered look on your face at how casually she said it.
“...okay?”
══════════════════
“Wow,” Your voice cuts through the air from shock over the whole situation.
“So, is Lars doing better now?”
You ask now, as you hold a warm mug in your hands. Having finished placing the boxes in a room that's now yours.
“Yeah, he's doing a lot better, ever since–” She seems to hesitate as she then put her hands in the air and does air quotes, “‘Bianca died’ he’s been more out with some friends he’s made, but overall, he’s a really sweet guy.”
“You might like him, he’s just on the shy side.”
Andrea explains to you, as you take in the new information about this Lars guy.
“You sound like you’re close to him?”
You state now, even if it sounds more like a question than a statement.
“Oh no, I mean– we know of one-another and we’ve talked just a bit, though it was mostly me talking at the time…”
“His sister in law, Karin. She and I are close friends, so when we hang out she tells me some things about him and her concerns here and there.”
Though her face seemed to brighten, something came back to her mind.
“Actually, that reminded me, she invited us over to have dinner.”
“Like, right now?”
Your eyebrows are raised in surprise at that.
“I just drove hours here, I don’t know if I can handle meeting another person right now, I’m exhausted.”
Placing down the warm mug on the small table beside you on the couch.
“Yeah, that's why I gave you coffee.”
Andrea says with a matter of fact tone, this makes you look at her with that deadpan annoyed stare.
“Yeah, because coffee is gonna make me wanna socialize after my ass was numb in my car seat.”
Standing up now from the cushioned chair, you walk back over to the coat rack and grab yours.
“Fine, we can go, I remember how annoyingly persistent you can be.”
With that Andrea gives an almost happy cheer, like she won the lottery by convincing you to go over to Karins.
“You’ll love them, Gus and Karin, oh– they also have a new born kid, a beautiful little girl, her name is Elinor.”
Andrea says rapidly, while grabbing her own winter gear as well, ready to walk over to Karin's and Gus’s, excited for her friends to meet her older brother finally.
“Elinor, got it.”
Your voice reaches her ears as you confirm remembering the little infant's name, as you now hold open the door for her, letting her out first before closing it behind the two of you.
══════════════════
Looking out the small door window from the garage door, Lars can see two bodies walking up to the porch.
“Who is that?” He can’t help the thought that runs across his brain, he recognizes Andrea.
“Shes nice.” Another thought abruptly swims over him, like he's keeping track of who's good and who isn’t.
Holding his baby blanket that's wrapped around his neck like a scarf closer to him, lifting it up to his nose, as if he’s trying to get some sort of comfort out of it.
He can see Karin wrap her arms around the taller male, he seems surprised by the gesture, but returns it anyways with a soft smile on his face.
Lars notices the slight slump in his shoulders.
But he smiles kindly.
“He looks tired.”
Lars can’t help but note to himself, though a soft smile of his own grows on his face.
“He seems nice.”
And if Andrea brought him here, then he probably is.
