#a rare pair so rare it doesn't exist

[nenekobasu]

the duality of kaiser he gets so much but so little. there's such a wealth of fic and art and yet i'm forced to feed myself

[enkas-illusion]

What’s a Jumpscare?

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Geto Suguru x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre/Theme: Roommates to lovers type beat; non-sorcery au

Content warning: fluff, pure smut, oral (f and m.receiving), explicit sexual content, squirting, overstimulation, language, angst, Suguru is crass with his words, kinda jealous and possessive Suguru.

Summary: What’s the rational thing to do in the middle of the night when you’re scared shitless after watching a horror movie? It’s to call your flatmate Suguru to your room to sleep next to you. Being the nice roommate that he is, he’s more than happy to provide you with a solid distraction.

Author's Note: Porn with a plot but you really have to squint your eyes to find the plot honestly. I have no justification for this hehe. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy it! 

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Freak by Lana Del Rey

“What am I? A child? Fear doesn't exist in this household!”

.

.

.

That’s the embarrassing thing about overestimating yourself. One moment you’re boasting about your ability to endure jumpscares without flinching and the next, you’re sealing the ends of your blanket with your feet, hoping it’d protect you from imaginary ghosts.

As you bite your nails, waiting for your flatmate to answer the call, you feel embarrassed at how much of a wuss you’re gonna seem in front of him after talking big about not being one of the scaredy cats.

“Hello?” you hear his confused voice on the other end, laced with a hint of concern at you calling him in the middle of the night.

“Hi, Sugu,” you speak timidly, knowing you’re going to have to butter him up to get him to comply with your request. But before you can continue, you hear a mocking chuckle on the other end.

“Awww… look who’s scared shitless after bragging about being a horror movie connoisseur,” he teases.

“Pleaseee, come to my room,” you plead and you’re surprised when he agrees quickly before hanging up. But the emotion is soon replaced with dread when you realise that this is one of his rare golden opportunities to tease the hell out of you and Geto Suguru isn’t one to let it slide.

When he arrives, he doesn’t knock but slides your room door slowly so that the hinges creak eerily as it opens. His form almost blending into the dark hallway behind him, highlighted by your room’s awfully bright light.

“Suguru please, this is exactly why I did not want to call you here,” you complain as he smiles slyly, walking in before closing the door behind him.

“Then what did you call me here for?”

“Sleep here tonight,” you request, patting the space next to you on your bed.

“At least have the decency to ask me out on a date first.”

“That’s not– you know that’s not how I mean it!” you sigh.

“Be for real, this is all just a ruse to get me in your bed,” he snorts, leaning against the door with his hands crossed at his chest.

You roll your eyes and want to talk back at him but you remember that your scared ass doesn’t really have the upper hand here. You sigh again, “I’ll hold your pinky finger max…  just so that I know I’m not alone in the room.” 

“Holding hands? That’s like third base for you, babe,” he walks closer till he’s standing at the edge of the bed.

You pout at him and he bends forward in front of you, resting his palms on the edge of the mattress. “Did your dear friend not reply?” he teases you about your fuck buddy Marco but you decide not to react.

“Tease me all you want but please just get in!” you groan.

“Just sleep with the lights on,” he says dryly. 

“I can’t fall asleep with the lights on but I’m too anxious to turn them off,” you reason, leaning forward to touch his bicep gently, hoping he’d be kind and understanding of your predicament.

“Just cover your head with the blanket?” He climbs into bed, sitting on the edge.

“Too suffocating. If you’ll be here, I’ll feel safe and sound,” you pout, trying hard not to smile at how he’s already complying to your request. 

“I sleep naked.”

You suck in a breath to weigh your options. You know he’s just teasing but oh well, a distraction wouldn’t hurt, “I’ll allow shirtless.”

He takes his t-shirt off in an instant, throwing it to the floor before settling in next to you.

“Never miss a chance to make me uncomfortable…” you mumble as you try your best not to ogle at his abs. 

“We both know you enjoy this, princess,” he smiles insincerely and you roll your eyes at him before turning to the side to reach the light switch near the bedside. Just as you turn the lights off, you feel a hand grab one of your ankles tightly and yank it roughly, causing you to let out a shriek as your body stumbles onto the mattress.

You hear Suguru laugh next to you as you turn to see his faint silhouette illuminated by the soft moonlight peeping through the window.

“Who does that!?” you scold him as you slap his chest repeatedly. 

“Me!” he grabs your wrists to stop your attacks and instead wraps his arms around you. He falls back onto the mattress, caging you snugly into his arms so that your torso is almost on top of his.

“Suguru, I doubt this is a comfortable position to sleep in,” you wriggle into his arms as you free yourself to fall to the side, creating distance between your bodies as promised, holding only his index finger to maintain contact. A few minutes pass by in silence before you hear a sudden draft escaping the gaps of the window, making an eerie sound, causing you to hiss out a quiet ‘fuck’ as your hand readjusts to intertwine your fingers with his.

“If all you wanted to do was make noises instead of sleep, I could’ve done a much better job than a horror film,” he speaks softly as he untangles his fingers from yours.

You turn your head to look at his face, eyes searching his in the darkness, “Suguru, please stop teas–”

“Shhh, I’m just trying to get comfortable,” he interrupts and you feel his body turn to the side and towards you. His hand snakes around your waist as he pulls you into his warmth till your back is against his chest. This makes you giggle as you place your hand over his on your waist, fingers interlacing once again.

“Is this safe enough, madam?” His voice is playful but the way his hot breath fans the crook of your neck is far from funny. It’s as if the fear that had preoccupied your mind had suddenly started to lift, leaving behind a sudden sense of awareness. You suddenly feel hyper aware of the position you’re currently in with your attractive, not to mention shirtless, roommate. 

You simply hum instead of speaking, not wanting your voice to betray you and expose the way you’re secretly enjoying the way his body feels against yours. For a second, you wonder how this type of stuff only happens in cheesy fictional movies or steamy romance novels. But on second thought, it might as well just be a well orchestrated happenstance – two adults willing to compromise on a rational way of solving things; and instead acting on their unbridled desire for each other, testing how far they can bend till one of them breaks.

That can never be you. You’ve taken an L as it is for one night, so if someone was going to break, it had to be him. You readjust your body to ‘get comfortable’, moving your hips slightly back till your ass is resting snugly against his crotch. However, when you don't get a reaction out of him, you abandon the idea just as quickly, creating some distance once again.

“Good night, Suguru,” you speak softly as you close your eyes, absentmindedly rubbing soft circles on the back of his hand while trying to understand how his brain works–you could’ve sworn the tension between you and him was real, so why was he acting so aloof?

You don't have to wonder much when you feel him move closer till you feel his bulge poke at your ass, causing you to halt your movement. Instead, Suguru's hand frees from under yours and dips under your t-shirt, fingers caressing dangerously close to your breasts. When you press your hips further back against him, he lets out a dry chuckle.

“Thought you were only going to hold a finger,” he mocks as his nose nudges behind your ear.

“This is a far better distraction,” you hum as you lift your hand up, moving it behind till your fingers are burrowed in his free raven locks. 

“Is that what I am to you? Just a distraction?” his hand cups your boobs, fondling with the soft flesh, earning a satisfactory hum from you.

“No, you’re my dear roomie too,” you tease as you twist your head to look back at him, but your effort is in vain due to the darkness.

“Ahh, right! Just a roomie… that you keep on trying to seduce?”

“Whatever do you mean?” you pout as your hand moves to caress his cheek. He pinches your hardened nipple and it causes you to let out a quiet gasp.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about… roaming around the house without a bra… your nipples poking through the awfully thin fabric of your t-shirts,” his words make the heat rush to your cheeks as you feel his lips graze your neck and you close your eyes at the feeling.

“You roam around shirtless too.”

“That’s different.”

“Sure… seems to me that you’re the pervert here. C-can’t I be comfortable at my own place?” you tease but your voice comes out breathless as your brain is stuck on the way Suguru is playing with your nipples.

“Hmm… I'm trying to do just that… get you more comfortable,” Suguru bites your shoulder lightly as his hand moves down to dip into your sweatpants.

“Such a considerate roomie–mmh,” you swallow your words when he rubs your mound from over your underwear, “... what would I do without you, Sugu.”

You grab his hair to pull his face away from your shoulder before twisting your body further to kiss him on the lips. Your lips miss the mark and land on the corner of his mouth. He lets out a snort at this and brings his hand up to squeeze your cheeks before kissing you right.

His tongue slides into your mouth, swirling against your own and alternating it with soft tugs at your bottom lip. Suguru’s such a good kisser that you feel lightheaded when he breaks the kiss to allow you both catch your breaths. You can make out his outline as he moves away from you, making his way to your corner of the bed to turn the light on.

“Too bright!” you cover an arm over your eyes, scrunching your face at the sudden change.

“I want to see you,” he states calmly as he straddles you, fingers sliding the fabric of your t-shirt up to expose your belly.

“The lamp has enough light,” you stop his movement and motion him to move towards the bedside table. 

He rolls his eyes but obeys as he makes his way to switch the bright tube light with the soft orange light of the lamp, “You could’ve easily fallen asleep in this dim light… you just wanted a reason to get me in your bed, huh?”

“Well, I really was scared,” you pout, making him laugh as he turns back to look at you.

“Yeah rig–” his words get caught in his throat when his eyes land on your bare chest.

“Would you rather go back to your room?” you tilt your head slightly as you toss your t-shirt to the ground before tracing your fingers gently over your rock-hard nipples. If Suguru had any other thoughts in his mind before that moment, the slate is wiped completely clean when he sees the way your dainty fingers dance over your skin, luring him in like a siren to a sailor. 

“That ship sailed the moment you asked me to get in your bed,” he leans over you till you’re lying flat on your back and wets his lips as his eyes shamelessly fixate on your exposed tits. Without wasting another second, he dips his head down to suck on one tit while his fingers play with the other.

Your hands find their way to his hair as you let out soft hums, closing your eyes to enjoy the way his tongue feels on your sensitive skin. 

He moves further down, leaving wet smooches over your belly but his movements come to a halt when his eyes land on your belly button.

“Is this new?” He asks, causing you to open your eyes and you find him eyeing the tiny ring piercing that's barely visible unless seen up close.

You shake your head, “You just never got to see it.”

“I knew you were a freak,” he leans down to kiss over it, “those innocent, doe eyes might trick others but they never fooled me.”

“But isn't that why you’re so hard, baby? Cause you like them freaky?” You shoot back as you hook one leg around his waist to tug the waistband of his sweats down with your toes. He grabs your ankle, peeling it away from him and pinning it down to the bed.

He simply gives you a devilish smile before leaning down to graze the silver metal piercing with his teeth, pulling at it playfully. In that moment, your body's reaction is beyond your control as you let out a whimper, goosebumps covering the entire expanse of your skin.

You bring your hands up to your chest to play with your nipples, back arching when his wet tongue licks a strip down your belly. He hooks his fingers into your waistband before pulling them down your legs along with your underwear.

“Fucking hell Suguru,” you moan when you feel two fingers opening your puffy folds, dragging over the surface to spread your wet juices around.

“Yes, princess?” He looks up to meet your eyes and he can feel the blood rushing to his dick, making it harder than ever. He thinks he might as well cum by just looking at your already fucked out expressions while your fingers greedily play with your tits.

“I want your tongue… please eat me out,” your request is almost a breathy whisper. 

“Hmm, what do I get in return?” He wonders, fingers rubbing soft circles over your clit.

“I'll suck you off–”

“No.”

“Please… fuck– what then?” Your voice grows impatient as rut your hips up to feel more of his fingers.

“I want you to stop calling that fucker over whenever you're horny,” his voice is so stern that it actually makes you focus on what he's saying. 

Your eyebrows furrow at this as you stop playing with yourself to sit up on your elbows to get a better look at his face, “Who? Marco? I don't underst–”

“What's so hard to understand, dummy? I'm fucking sick of hearing you scream someone else’s name at nights when I know I could fuck you much better than that guy,” Suguru's tone is calm, yet he has to grit his teeth to keep his cool.

He didn't have to ask – in your mind it was already a given – what could possibly be better than having your unbelievably attractive flatmate make you his. No other men could ever compare moving forward. 

Yet you want to push his buttons, like you always do, “hmm… I don’t know about that, Sugu. He’s really good with his tongue...”

“Is that the game you really wanna play?” He groans as he spreads your thighs open, nestling himself between your legs. He dips his head down till it is just inches away from your core, “Well, then… be my fucking guest.”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from grinning too hard – it was so fucking easy to rile him up. His tongue is quick to latch onto your pussy, causing you to let out a soft moan at the sudden contact.

Your body melts back down onto the mattress as you bring your hands down to play with his hair. He licks a strip up to your clit before moving back down to dip his tongue into your hole. As he begins to alter the pressure of his tongue, your thighs twitch involuntarily.

“Oh god– Suguru, right ther– nghh,” you push his head further down to bury his face against you completely. Suguru smiles at you as he lifts his head up slightly before letting the spit on his tongue trickle down to your hole and you can feel your insides clutching around nothing. 

You lean your head back and shut your eyes tight when you feel his fingers spread his spit around your entrance. He takes you by surprise when he suddenly shoves two of his thick fingers into your cunt. The moan that escapes your lips next is vile to say the least and you bring your hand up to muffle it.

“No… don’t act shy now, baby. Let me hear your pretty voice,” he growls and you feel his other hand come up to yank yours away from your mouth as he begins fucking you with his fingers.

You nod your head desperately with your eyes still closed and whimper at his words, but it doesn’t take long before you’re cussing out lewd profanities when his tongue plays with your clit at the same time he begins to pump his fingers inside you faster. 

“Suguru, y-you’re so good,” you stutter out praises as you feel your mind numbing at the sensation, getting closer to your orgasm. Your back arches off the bed when you feel him suck on your bud, adding a third finger into your hole.

“Oh my— yesyesyes,” you cry as your body twitches under him. You’re so close, you can almost feel yourself breaking. You bring your shaky hand to his hair again as you look down to find his eyes fixed on your face. Your eyebrows knit, the intensity of his gaze making you feel vulnerable and exposed.

“Sugu– I’m so clo–” you halt mid-sentence when he pulls away completely, causing your build-up to drop suddenly. You whine as you hook your legs around his torso, “Suguru! What the fuck?”

“Aww, sorry baby. Were you about to cum?” His tone is condescending. He holds up his hand to examine the wet coat of your juices glistening on his fingers, “Maybe you can call Marco over to finish the job?”

“Suguru, stop being so cruel,” you huff as you tug at his hand to pull him closer. 

“You’re the cruel one here… expecting me to share what’s mine,” he moves up to kiss you on the lips and your moans are muffled by his tongue when his fingers part your folds once again, making your hips twitch.

“Please, I was only teasing. You’re the only one I want,” you beg, out of breath when he releases your lips.

“Is that so?” his hot breath fans your face. You nod desperately, clawing at his forearm to get him to move his hand once again.

“So, no more Marco? You’ll break all contact with that fucker?” he asks but it’s a rhetorical question anyway. 

“Only you, Suguru,” you agree nonetheless as you lean your head up to kiss him once again.

“That’s a good girl. See how easy it was?” he smirks as his head moves down to your neck to suck on your skin roughly. Your brain goes dumb when he finds your sweet spot, you bring your hands to his shoulders all the while chanting his name when his fingers start fucking into you again.

You squirm under him as his bodyweight restricts your movement. When he feels your pussy flutter around his fingers, he’s quick to make his way back down to stimulate your clit with his tongue. You root your feet into the mattress, your hips thrusting up as your muscles twitch again.

“Keep going, fuck–Suguru” you cry as you grip his hair with one hand while your other hand pinches one of your nipples. The pressure in your core releases as soon as it builds when your orgasm breaks through you. Your legs fall limply to the sides but your abdomen still twitches as Suguru continues to lap at your juices.

You feel way too sensitive as his ruthless tongue and fingers begin to overstimulate you. You yank at his hair to warn him but he doesn’t budge.

“Suguru, too much–ahh!” your body twitches violently and he presses his other hand over your lower belly to keep you from moving too much. As you shiver under his touch, you can feel the coil building up in your stomach – it happens before you even realise it and you squirt all over his face.

You cry his name out loud, tears escaping your eyes as your body falls limp and you feel as if you’ve lost all strength. Suguru pulls his fingers out as he sits up between your legs, sucking his fingers clean before pushing the loose strands of his hair back.

Your chest heaves and you see the way his face shines due to the wetness. You bring a foot up to his chest, pushing him till he’s leaning back slightly, “You’re the freak here, Suguru.”

“Never said I wasn’t,” he smiles as he rests his palms onto the mattress, leaning back and spreading his legs open. You sit up and lean forward as you hook your hands into the waistband of his pants to pull them down along with his boxers. He lifts his hips up slightly and his dick springs free when you pull the garments down, discarding them to the side.

You lean down closer to his dick, your pussy fluttering when you see how perfect his size is – length as well as girth wise. Suguru has the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen and it looks even prettier with the precum leaking from the slit. You move your thumb over the angry tip, sliding the foreskin further down.

You smile at him innocently before focusing back down as your tongue licks over the head, wetting it further with your saliva. Suguru feels like he’s about to lose his shit at this, his dick throbbing painfully in your hands.

A guttural groan escapes his lips when he feels you take his length into your mouth till his tip is hitting the back of your throat. Your left hand moves under to fondle his balls while your right hand gently claws at his thigh. He runs a hand through your hair when you start bobbing your head over his cock.

“Shit– take it in, princess,” his voice strains as he grabs your hair to push your head further down. You let out a muffled groan when you gag slightly.

You pick up your pace and he doesn't know if it's because he's been hard for an awfully long time or if you’re clouding his senses, taking over every thought but he comes undone quickly.

When you rub the base tightly while letting his tip hit the back of your throat in a repeated motion, you feel his dick twitch.

“Fuc– baby, I'm cumming,” he moans as he tries to warn you, tugging at your hair gently but you maintain a steady rhythm, making him shoot his hot liquid in your mouth.

You slow down to pull away from his dick and look up to find Suguru leaning back, resting his weight on his elbows. His eyebrows furrow when he sees the way a string of saliva connects his dick to your glistening lips. He closes his eyes shut as his head falls back limply – he thinks it's impossible to get hard so quickly again after a good head but his body is hell-bent on proving him wrong.

You wipe your lips with the back of your hand as you sit up and giggle at his state. He opens one eye to look at you lazily, chest still heaving lightly.

“You're welcome, Suguru. That is what a real considerate roomie does,” you tease as you straddle his lap, leaning forward to leave soft kisses over his pecs. Your arms rest on his shoulders as you move up to his neck, biting and sucking on his skin.

“Mmh… you’re so fucking cute,” Suguru huffs as he brings his hand up to your face, guiding you to look up at him, “fuck...the things I want to do to you.”

“What do you want to do to me?” You question as you take his thumb in your mouth, sucking on it lightly before releasing it.

“This,” he says as he wraps his arm around your waist to scoot you up till your chest is flush against his, pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss is hungry, passionate and desperate and your arms wrap around his neck and you moan into his mouth when you feel two of Suguru's fingers glide over your folds to part them.

“... and this,” he mumbles between kisses and you feel him graze his tip near your entrance. He pauses briefly as he pulls back from the kiss, “Where do you keep the condoms?” 

You shake your head no, “birth control,” you mumble before pulling him back in to continue your kiss. You're pretty sure you feel his lips curve up in a smile briefly before he shoves his tongue into your mouth.

His hand is quick to reposition his dick, lining it up at your entrance as his other hand wraps around your waist to lift your hips up slightly. 

Your pussy flutters in excitement when his tip enters your hole. He breaks the kiss to look down where your bodies meet, placing both his hands firmly on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he guides your body down onto him slowly.

You whimper as you feel his fat cock impale your walls, resting your forehead against his shoulder while your hands caress his biceps. When he's filled you up to the hilt, he holds you steady, letting you adjust to his size.

“Sugu–”

“And this,” he whispers as he lifts your hips up with ease before slamming you down onto his cock in one swift motion. Your nails dig into his skin at this and you scream his name, your brain going numb when his pace fastens.

“Yes yes, right th– ahh,” your voice is slurry as you bite into the skin of his shoulder to keep yourself from losing your sanity completely– as if that were still an option. 

“S-stop squeezing me so tight,” he sighs when your walls twitch around him. You bury your face into his neck, whimpering at the sensation as his tip kisses the right spot each time he shoves deep into you.

Suguru loosens his grip around your waist as he slows down and it's only then that you realise just how tight his hold was. But the thought slips your mind just as quickly as it arrives when he lies you down till your back is on the mattress with him on top of you.

With his dick still buried deep inside you, he readjusts your legs to hook them over his shoulders and folding you in half as he towers over you.

His lips meet yours as he pins your arms down to your sides, intertwining his fingers with yours. It's a simple act but it has you feeling butterflies in your stomach.

“I want you…” he bites your lower lip lightly before releasing it, “...so bad...”

You hum into the kiss at his sweet nothings, not really being able to focus on the words he's spilling between kisses. You feel lightheaded – the way he kisses you softly is soon contrasted by the rough thrusts of his hips as he begins to pound into you mercilessly.

You cry against his lips as tears escape your eyes at how deliciously he's filling you up. Suguru kisses your cheek hastily before moving down to your neck to decorate your skin with his markings.

“Oh–mmph– god, Suguru,” you sob as he picks up his pace. You feel your mind going blank with each thrust – in that moment, you have nothing in your thoughts expect for Suguru and his cock.

Your moans get a pitch higher when he brings a hand down to play with your clit. It's the tipping point for you when his fingers and dick work in unison to bring you closer to your release.

You feel your pussy flutter around his length and he groans into your neck once again. He knows he won't last much long so he maintains a steady rhythm, rubbing your clit in a way that's eliciting a chain of lewd moans from you.

Your body convulses violently, his body weight on top of yours holds you in place as you reach your orgasm. Within seconds, you hear him hiss cusses into your ear as his dick twitches inside you and his cum paints your walls. Your vision gets blurry and you close your eyes, your breathing gets ragged as your body melts onto the bed and you’re pretty sure you would've passed out if not for Suguru’s sloppy thrusts coming to a gradual stop. He slides your legs down his shoulders gently and you let them slump to the sides.

“Baby, you good?” His breath fans your face and you look at him with half-lidded eyes. You let out a tired chuckle at the concerned look on his face. You simply nod at him as you slowly bring your hands up to hook them around his neck, playing with the hair on his nape.

“Let's get you cleaned up,” he kisses your nose, “then you can rest all you want.” 

You pull him in for a lazy kiss and he obliges, wanting to relish in this moment a little bit longer.

~

You don't remember how you fell asleep but when you wake up to the almost blaring sound of your doorbell ringing, you find your body impossibly closer to his. Your face is almost buried in his chest with your arms and legs tangled with his, caging you into his whole being.

You pull away softly, wondering how you even managed to fall asleep in such an awkward position. You lean forward to kiss his forehead but move back in a haste when you hear the bell ring again, quietly getting out of the bed.

Putting on your pants and t-shirt, you make your way out of your room and to the main door.

Your surprise is evident on your face when you spot Marco standing in front of you.

“Hey…” you greet him, already feeling a weird sense of embarrassment creeping over you.

“Did I wake you up? I thought you’d be awake by now,” he checks his phone for the time.

“No… I slept in a bit since I couldn’t fall asleep after watching that scary film,” you confess, your brain working in full force to come up with the right words to break the news to him. 

He's still standing in the doorway since you haven't really invited him in so he tries his best to do some damage control, “Are you upset about yesterday? I'm sorry for kinda bailing on you last night.”

Right, if Marco had been there for movie night, you wouldn't have called Suguru when you felt alone and scared. But it didn't matter much as what had happened since was way more intense than your fuck buddy missing yet another movie night.

Before you have a chance to speak, you hear a voice from behind, “Oh, no worries, you weren't missed.” 

You turn to see Suguru walking towards you shirtless, in only his sweats. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Suguru to be so unwelcoming towards Marco but what surprised the guy were the hickeys on your flatmate's chest on full display.

And if Marco wasn't smart enough to connect the pieces together already, Suguru snaking an arm over your waist from behind and leaving a quick peck on your cheek, all while wishing the guy a ‘good morning’ was enough to make everything crystal clear. 

You give Suguru a side eye as you chuckle nervously, “Suguru, please give us a minute.”

“Ok, don’t take too long, baby,” he slaps your ass playfully but his eyes stay on Marco, almost taunting him with a cocky smile.

When Suguru walls back inside, you scratch the back of your nape awkwardly, “Sooo…”

“It’s fine, whatever. I just wish you’d told me about it before I embarrassed myself like this,” Marco shoots back, trying not to sound bitter but failing miserably.

“I’m so sorry. You have nothing to be embarrassed about… I'm the one who should be embarrassed,” you ramble as you observe his face for a change of expressions, “Would you like to come in?”

“Doubt that's a good idea,” his tone is cold.

“Right… are we cool? No hard feelings?” you ask.

“Nah, we were just fucking, that’s all– just don’t expect me to keep on being your friend now.”

“Oh, okay, I wasn't going to… guess this is it then?” you speak just as formally, getting slightly annoyed at his entitled tone.

“Yeah,” he lets out a dry chuckle before curtly nodding and leaving.

You close the door and swiftly walk to where Suguru is sitting on the sofa. He's grinning at you, extending an arm out towards you.

“Don't even try! I'm so embarrassed…” you scold him, “I wanted to break it to him gently!”

He simply shrugs before motioning you to get closer to him. You roll your eyes but nonetheless obey as you move closer till you’re standing in front of him. 

You cover your face with your hands, your muffled voice speaking, “That almost felt like an awkward breakup that 12 year olds have after calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend for a week…”

“Good… you can't be having two boyfriends at once,” he snorts as he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer, resting his forehead against your belly.

You grab him by the hair to pull his face away gently to look him in the eyes, “Wait, you want us to date?”

He nods as he chuckles at your surprised reaction, “You really are a clueless one. Yes, I want us to date… besides, I don’t just let random hookups squirt on my face.”

You shove his face away as you groan in embarrassment, “Stopppp.”

“Never. That was the highlight of the night for me– second only to the way your pretty little cunt fluttered around my dick,” he pulls you closer to kiss your belly from over the fabric. 

“Suguru, you have such a dirty mouth,” you push him away but he doesn't bug, further tightening his grip on your waist.

“It’s cause you like it dirty,” he pulls you down till you’re straddling his lap. You giggle when his hands move under your t-shirt to flick your already hardened nipples.

You hold onto his shoulders as you move closer to close the gap between your bodies as you kiss him.

“So?” He moves away to kiss your cheek, “Go out…” another peck on your nose, “...on a date…” next on your jaw, “...with me?” before kissing your forehead lovingly, “Please?”

You pull back to ponder over the question for a moment and the familiar butterflies reappear.

“Okay,” you nod, blushing as he nuzzles his face into your neck, “I'd like that a lot.”

“Okay… celebratory sex.” he exclaims as he bites your skin, making it tingle.

“No! I’m really sore!” you complain.

“Just one round, I'll be gentle,” he presses.

“Have some mercy on your poor girlfriend!” you coo as you lean back.

“Not if you talk like that… you’re only gonna make me hard,” he chuckles as he rubs his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Suguru!” you pout. He laughs as he leans forward to give you a quick peck.

“Ok fine… then, breakfast?” he asks and you nod. You hook your legs around his waist as he gets up with ease, making his way to the kitchen. You giggle when he squeezes your ass as he walks.

“Don't think you’re getting off that easily. I'm only letting you relax now so that I can fuck you later after our date tonight,” he places you onto to kitchen counter.

“Ah, so considerate!” you roll your eyes before kissing his cheek, your fingers tracing the outline of his chest gently. Your eyes meet and you stare at each other in silence. You crinkle your face at how cheesy the moment seems, splaying your palm over his face to break his intense gaze.

“Fuck– are you sure… at least just let me eat you out… nothing else,” he groans and you feel his dick poke against your inner thigh.

“Suguru!” You complain but you break into a fit of laughter at how adorable he seems like this, a side you hadn’t seen before today.

“Okay, okay, fine!” He rolls his eyes before cupping your face, “one kiss and then I'm gonna make you something delicious.” 

“Sure,” you laugh before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another heart-fluttering kiss.

~fin~

[pigfacedbitch]

Phobia

idea : your phobia relates to your boyfriend's gifted godly abilities.

word count : 0.8k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Jason Grace / Percy Jackson / Leo Valdez / Frank Zhang / Nico Di Angelo x Reader

warning/s : phobia speaks for itself. personally, it's thalassophobia for me. 😓

here is my masterlist!

Jason Grace | Acrophobia (Fear of Heights)

Due to having the same fear as his sister, Jason is completely aware of the dos and dont's when you're an acrophobic.

If you two are forced in situations where you need to be in high places, he always attempts to distract you with anything he can think of.

He prefers embarrassing stories over jokes. His delivery is too deadass and his 'i'm-trying-hard-here-it's-not-funny' look makes you laugh before the punchline.

Knowing that it can be associated with the fear of falling, Jason will reassure you every time that he's going to catch you.

If you did fall, during some battle for example, he will asks you to close your eyes and hold you tighter before slowly bringing you down.

He really lives up to that Superman nickname so much, the others started calling you Lois Lane.

Percy Jackson | Thalassophobia (Fear of Deep Bodies of Water)

Percy would be bummed out. Being the son of Poseidon, he loves to be in the water.

Everything about him— from his favorite hobbies to his happiest of memories, revolves around it and he wants to share that with you.

He plans on taking you on trips underwater; introduce you to the majestic marine creatures nobody else has seen before, unravel mysteries the sea has to offer, and form a big bubble where you can do whatever you want without being interrupted (ehem👀).

But how can he make all of it possible when your fear is literally all of those?

Percy would want to help you get over it. He wouldn't force you but he will at least try convince you.

If you refuse, he will respect that.

But if you accept his help, he'll try to take it one step at a time. Probably by starting to show you how the sea, no matter terrifying it is, is also beautiful place.

Leo Valdez | Pyrophobia (Fear of Fire)

Initially, Leo will laugh. I mean, who wouldn't?

You're a pyrophobic yet you're dating someone who is actually made out of fire?

After he notices that you're not joking, he will begin to be terrified for you. Expect that Leo will be extra careful when you are with him, especially when he is working on something.

His contraptions deemed too dangerous like explosives, will be kept somewhere far away.

As much as he thinks your presence will make Bunker 9 a lovelier workspace, he will understand if you don't want to go there. The essense of it is from the god of fire himself— I mean you need a blast of fire to enter.

He also will refrain himself from using his fire abilities in a fight, making do with his inventions instead.

While pyrophobia doesn't have specific causes, it may be possible that you had some traumatic experience relating to fire. Leo doesn't want to hurt you or make you feel worse.

Frank Zhang | Zoophobia (Fear of Animals)

Frank is confused. He doesn't know that the fear of animals is a thing and would wonder why you agreed on dating him in the first place.

He will ask you tons of questions; what caused your phobia? Are you afraid of all animals, a few, or just one? What can I do? After your conversation, he's going to search more information.

If you're afraid of one animal only, Frank will forget it ever existed. He will never talk of that animal again even when you're not around.

The others will joke about it. Example, if you're scared of snakes—

"What is a snake, Frank?"

"What's that, Leo? I have no idea, so let's never speak of it again."

In the case that you're afraid of all animals (this is a rare condition), he will not use his abilities and will train harder in combat.

When he really doesn't have a choice but to shapeshift in a fight, you two will separate with your friends' assurance that they got your back.

Frank is a nice guy but if someone made an offensive comment about your phobia or hardcore pranks involving that animal? Expect the wrath and rage of Mars.

Nico Di Angelo | Phasmophobia (Fear of Ghosts)

I'm sorry but Nico will slightly judge you. Really, a ghost? What are you, five?

Like Frank, he will ask you what caused your phobia.

He will feel terrible and comfort you if you have the same experience as Reina and Jason, who's loved ones turned into a mania. If it's because of horror movies, he will awkwardly pet your head.

You may think the subject is dropped but Nico will make sure that no ghost will ever come near you.

Having the infamous title 'Ghost King', he will not hesitate to torment and threaten the spirits who try to approach, scare, or talk to you.

He will take you on dates to McDonalds but he will not bring you to any 'ghost business'.

If you want to get rid of your phobia, Nico will summon ghosts who can entertain you; like singers, dancers, those that can do tricks, and stand up comedians.

He will also show you how easily he can bend any ghost to his will, proving to you that there's nothing to be afraid of.

[moonstruckme]

hey! I really really really like your writing very much!

can you do one where the reader and spencer reid are both nerds but different kinds of nerds. so the reader's more of a literature/ language nerd and spencer's basically an expert in LITERALLY everything. so she has a major crush on him but always hesitates to make a move on him cuz she thinks that she doesn't stand a chance because she struggles with basic math and physics chemistry make her head hurt

and so when spencer asks her out she's all baffled like you don't think I'm dumb?!😭😭

Hi, thanks honey!

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

It’s one of those rare days where you can actually afford a lunch break, and you’ve decided to take it outside with your book. Every day lately feels like it could be the last nice one you get before the cold weather comes in, and you’re enjoying the crisp breeze and warm sunshine on your face as you get settled on the bench outside the cafe where you work. 

The book you’ve been reading for the past week is good but not great; you’re sort of pushing yourself to finish just so you can say it’s over with and tell the friend who lent it that you gave it your best. Still, you’re very nearly lost in it by the time a pair of black converse comes to a stop in front of you. 

You follow them upward. “Spencer!” you say, probably with a touch too much alacrity. Too quickly, too. You might’ve at least pretended to have to think about the name of the sweet-faced doctor looking down at you. But it’s not your fault; you’ve gotten used to calling it out from the counter when he comes here to pick up his lunch at least three days out of the week. 

“Hi,” he says, teetering on the edge of bashful. “I’m surprised to see you out here, you’re almost always working when I come by.” 

It’s embarrassingly gratifying that he knows that. You’d never hold it against him if he didn’t, but you’ve come to enjoy the little bits of conversation you grab with him when he comes by, and it’s nice to know that he’s noticed you too. 

“It’s a slow day,” you reply by way of explanation. “I figured I’d grab a break while I still could.” 

Spencer smiles like he totally gets that. You imagine he does. “Good idea. Can I sit?”

“Of course!” Again, way too eager. You’ve got to work on controlling your tone around him. You move your discarded jacket into your lap. 

“Thanks,” he says, sitting in the space you’ve made for him. His legs are so long he looks like he’s squatting on the bench, knees high enough for him to set his elbows on. Which he does, tilting his head to see you. “What’re you reading?”

“Oh, um, it’s nothing. I mean, I wouldn’t really recommend it,” you laugh. Christ, you don’t want him to know what you’re reading. Spencer probably reads astrophysics textbooks for fun. “It’s not very good.” 

Spencer puts his hand over yours, far from forceful as he tips the page toward him until he can see the cover. Your brain is short-circuiting so badly it’s a wonder you don’t drop the paperback onto the pavement. 

“I haven’t heard of it,” he says, which surprises you. Spencer seems so knowledgeable it’s difficult to believe there’s anything in existence that’s not stored somewhere in his hard drive. “Why are you reading it if you don’t think it’s good?” 

He doesn’t ask it in any unkind or judgemental way, but something inside you tenses nonetheless. You know perhaps too much about Spencer Reid. It’s not like you’d gone out of your way to figure him out, but the facts had presented themselves to you almost serendipitously and you’d put the pieces together. You know that he’s in the FBI, not only because of the laminated identifier he sometimes leaves clipped to his shirtpocket when he comes in, but also because of the coworkers that occasionally come with him. From those coworkers, you also know that he’s a doctor, and you gather that he’s generally respected and admired as well as cared for by his team. He seems a bit awkward, but sure of himself where it matters, and he goes into every interaction with a kind curiosity. Most of all, you know that Spencer is smart. Like, expert in everything smart. You’d caught a few jokes from the people he’s brought in about an eidetic memory, his multiple PhDs, and the nickname “boy genius.” No matter how shy and sweet someone is, that’s intimidating. 

And it’s unnerving to have someone with an IQ higher than you can probably fathom asking about your intellectual habits. 

“Well, the plot doesn’t actually have much movement, so it’s pretty boring,” you say hesitantly. “I guess at this point I’m mostly in it for the prose. Plus my friend recommended it, so I have to finish it to keep her happy.” 

Spencer laughs at your little joke, nodding. “Wow, the prose alone is enough to keep you going? It must be pretty fascinating.” 

You want to backpedal immediately, but settle for a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s alright. I’m kind of a nerd for that stuff. Rhetorical devices and all.”

Spencer tilts his head, something igniting in his brown eyes. Interest. “Rhetorical devices. You mean like metaphor and personification?”

You nod. “Yeah, like those, but also anadiplosis and polysyndeton and anastrophe.” Spencer’s eyebrows move slowly upward as you speak, and you feel heat rising to your cheeks despite the slight chill. “I just like that there’s things that affect the emotion—or the pacing, or whatever—of writing that we as readers pick up on almost subconsciously, but were so intentional for the writer.” 

Spencer’s nodding, eyes going somewhere just slightly distant. “Yeah, that’s a good point. I mean, I know writing is a very intentional process, but I never really think about the tiny, word-level decisions authors make to influence readers.” 

“It’s so cool,” you agree. “Like, how long do you think it takes someone to land on the exact right word for what they’re trying to convey, or to structure their sentences in a way that builds momentum over the course of a paragraph? Like, so much goes into it.” 

Spencer’s smiling at you, and you realize you’re gushing, geeky zeal bursting out of you like a soda bottle that’s been shaken and finally uncapped. “Sorry. Um, what’re you reading lately?” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he says quickly, still smiling at you. “I actually just finished my last book, so I’m looking for something new. If this book has all that and isn’t up to your standards, I’d be interested to see what you really enjoy reading.” 

Your cheeks are burning hot; you hope Spencer thinks the redness is from the cool breeze. “I’d be nervous to give you a recommendation,” you admit. “Too much pressure.” 

Spencer waves you off. “I’ll read anything, don’t worry about it. Hey, have you ever been to that coffee shop on fifth? It’s in a bookstore.” 

You blink. “No, I haven’t heard of it. That sounds cool, though.” 

A bit of pink tinges Spencer’s cheeks; it’s probably from the cool breeze. “Yeah, well, you should let me take you there sometime. If you want, of course,” he adds hastily. “Don’t worry about it if not.” 

It takes you a second to realize what’s happening. And then once you do, another second to make yourself believe it. “Like, as a date?” you ask, just to be sure.

 Spencer’s smile is hopeful behind its timidity. “Yeah. Yeah, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Yeah.” You can’t think of anything better to say, your brain filling with buzzing bees. “That sounds good. Thanks.” 

He laughs, eyebrows coming together bemusedly. “Well, don’t thank me. I should be thanking you.” 

It’s more a thanks for his taking action, you think. For making a move when you’d been too scared to, stagnant with months over your anxiety that he’d think you were too dumb or trivial to want to keep talking to you after he’d picked up his sandwich. 

“Okay, great.” He stands. “Well, I have to get back, but I’ll, uh…I’ll see you? Friday, maybe? I can come by here after your shift.” 

“You know when my shift ends?”

Now even his ears are turning red. “You…around four, right? I sometimes see you if I’m leaving work around then.” 

You smile. “Yeah, four. See you then, Dr. Reid.” 

“See you then!” he turns around, and you can see the exact moment he thinks to wonder how you know his last name. You don’t bother worrying about it.

[burst-of-iridescent]

South Asian and Hindu Influences in ATLA (Part 1)

disclaimer: i was raised culturally and religiously hindu, and though i've tried to do my research for this post and pair it with my own cultural knowledge, i'm not an expert on hinduism by any means. should i mess up, please let me know.

please also be aware that many of the concepts discussed in this post overlap heavily with religions such as buddhism and jainism, which might have different interpretations and representations. as i'm not from those religions or cultures, i don't want to speak on them, but if anyone with that knowledge wishes to add on, please feel free.

it's well-known that atla draws from indigenous, east and southeast asian influences, but something i rarely see discussed in the fandom is the influences the show takes from hinduism and south asia, and there are actually far more than i think people are aware of.

so here's a (non-exhaustive list) of the main inspirations atla drew from south asian culture and hinduism, starting with...

The Avatar

the title of the show itself is taken from the ancient language of sanskrit, often considered the sacred tongue of the hindu religion. in sanskrit, the word "avatar" means to "descend" or "alight".

the concept of the avatar is a very old one, referring to the physical incarnation of a powerful deity or spirit. the idea of the avatar is most often linked to the god Vishnu, one of three supreme hindu gods collectively called the trimurti, or trinity. the avatar is said to manifest upon earth primarily in times of great need, when balance must be maintained between the forces of good and evil.

atla borrows heavily from this idea in having aang be the incarnation of a divine spirit who returns to the world during a time of immense strife, and is tasked with defeating a great evil to bring balance back to the world. and though i don't know if it was an intentional reference, it's interesting to note that Krishna, the most famous incarnation of Vishnu was also reborn amidst a fierce storm and carried through a raging sea to a new home where he would be protected from the king who sought to kill him. sounds a little familiar, doesn't it?

Agni Kai and the Philosophy of Firebending

the word "agni" derives from the sanskrit name Agni, the god of fire, though it can also generally mean "fire".

the concepts of lightning bending and the sun being the source of firebending are likely also taken from the idea of Agni, since he's said to exist simultaneously in three different forms on three different dimensions: as fire on earth, as lightning in the atmosphere, and as the sun in the sky.

Agni is a significant aspect of many rituals, including marriage rites, death rites, and the festivals of holi and diwali. the concept of Agni is one of duality: life and death, rebirth and destruction. hindu rituals accept and celebrate both aspects, revolving around the idea that destruction is not separate from creation, but rather necessary to facilitate it. the cremation of the dead, for instance, is seen as purification, not destruction: burning away the physical form so the soul is unencumbered, set free to continue the reincarnation cycle.

this influence can be seen in the firebending masters episode, which discusses the idea of fire being vital to life. the sun warriors safeguarding the original fire and demanding that zuko and aang bring fire to the dragons as a sacrifice could also reference the ritual of Agnihotra - the ritual of keeping a fire at the home hearth and making offerings to it. the purpose of this ritual differs depending on which text you refer to, but it is generally believed to purify the person and atmosphere in which it is performed, similar to how zuko and aang must make offerings to ran and shaw and survive their fire before being deemed worthy and pure.

Agnihotra is said to serve as a symbolic reminder of the vitality and importance of fire as the driving force of life, a lesson that zuko and aang also internalize from their encounter with the dragons.

Bumi

bumi's name is taken from the sanskrit word "bhumi", which means "earth". it's also the name of the hindu goddess of the earth, bumi or bhudevi.

one of the things the original animation didn't do and which i really enjoyed about the live action was that they made bumi indian and added desi inspiration to omashu. it makes perfect sense for a king whose name is as hindu-inspired as they come.

NWT Royal Palace

chief arnook's palace in the northern water tribe takes inspiration from the gopurams of hindu temples, massive pyramidal structures that served as entrance towers to the temple.

gopurams were built tall enough to be seen for miles around, beacons to signal tired or weary travellers who wished for a place to rest that a temple was nearby. it's a nice touch that the chief's palace is located in front of the spirit oasis, a similarly symbolic entryway to a sanctuary housing otherworldly deities.

Betrothal Necklaces

to preface: i doubt this was an intentional reference, and this great post talks about other cultures that could have inspired the water tribe betrothal necklaces. given the desi influence in the nwt architecture however, i figured it was worth mentioning.

the idea of betrothal necklaces being given to women by their male partners is similar to the thaali, a necklace given to hindu wives by their husbands. during hindu weddings, grooms tie the thaali around their brides' necks to symbolize their marriage. once given, wives are expected to wear their thaali till the day they die, as doing so is believed to bring good luck, health and prosperity to their husbands.

Chi-Blocking

though chi-blocking takes primary inspiration from the art of Dim Mak, it is also influenced by the south indian martial arts forms of adimurai and kalaripayattu, both of which include techniques of striking vital points in the body to disable or kill an opponent.

kalaripayattu also shares parallels with firebending, being a very physically demanding, aggressive martial art that emphasises the importance of discipline and mental fortitude. control of the mind is essential to control of the body, a philosophy similar to that espoused by iroh across the show.

Wan Shi Tong's Library

the library draws inspiration partly from the taj mahal, the famous mausoleum constructed by shah jahan during the mughal empire as a monument to his beloved wife, mumtaz mahal.

i'll end this post here since it's getting too long as it is, and the following section will be even longer. for while atla treated the concepts in this post with respect, the same unfortunately cannot be said for its depiction of guru pathik and combustion man - both of which we'll be discussing next.

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 2

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, heartbreak, break ups, jealousy, mentions of cheating, mean!Nancy, King!Steve, no upside down

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: After the breakup you try to go on with your life but it's harder than you thought, especially when you have to see him with her everyday.

Word count: 6.9k

Notes: The upside down doesn't exist here. All the older teens are 18 & 18+

series masterlist

prologue | part one

-

He drags himself through the streets of Hawkins. The wind is harsh and the thin jacket that you threw back at him after you had followed him down your driveway, does little to shield him from the cold autumn wind. The rain is falling and the darkened sky forecasts the storm that is heading to this town. The leaves are falling, stripping the trees from the colorfulness. 

A frown is stretched across his face, his shoulders are slumped, wet strands of hair are hanging in front of his eyes, he doesn’t bother to push them away, he doesn’t even bother to hurry and get home faster to shield himself from the rain and the storm that comes closer and closer. 

He didn’t drive to your place the way he usually would, today he walked. 

His heart is aching in an unfamiliar way, it’s something he had never felt before. He can’t identify this feeling, he doesn’t understand what it is. He just knows that he feels bad for what he did to you. He always felt bad about the way he treated you but he never changed, not for you. 

He rarely ever gave you good moments to remember, yet you only held onto those. You didn’t care about the way he was treating you. You didn’t care that he looked at other girls or even flirted with them. You didn’t care that he forgot dates or even ditched you to hang out with Tommy instead. You didn’t care that he only gave you weekends.

The flowers he gave you, the little presents here and there, the I love you’s, the kisses in the rain, the few soft moments were enough for you. You loved him, no matter what. You loved him on his good days and on his bad days. He can’t do the same for you. He can’t love you, not the way you love him. 

He walks back into his house, not caring about the rain that soaked through his clothes, making it cling to his skin uncomfortably. He feels awful, he felt that way all night after you walked away from him. It was the first Friday night without you and it felt.. wrong. You always stayed over on weekends, his bedroom felt empty and lonely without you. 

After kicking his wet shoes off and throwing the soaked jacket on the ground, he drags himself upstairs and towards his bedroom. He eyes his bed, the one he slept with you in, the one he kissed you in, the one he held you in. The picture on his nightstand makes the ache even worse– you in your cheer uniform and him in his basketball uniform after a game, his arm is wrapped around your waist, you are both looking at each other with big smiles on your faces. Your green scrunchie is laying on his nightstand, along with a bottle of your favorite perfume. Your clothes are in his closet, your magazines and favorite books are laying around. 

Where does Nancy fit into all of this? 

This is so wrong, so so wrong but Steve doesn’t realize it fully yet. 

For a moment, he lets himself feel. He sits down on his bed with a heavy sigh, he reaches for your scrunchie, holding it in the palm of his hand, he stares at it. He remembers the night you stayed over at his place for the first time, when you just started dating. You were nervous and shy as though it was the first time alone with him– it wasn’t. You have known each other since you were little kids, your mom’s have been friends since their days at high school, they have even gone to summer camps together and are friends to this day. You and Steve have been around each other since, well, always. Whenever your mom’s would have ‘girls nights’, the two of you would hang out in yours or his room, listening to music or watching movies together. You were friends before you became more than that. He has yet to realize what he actually lost. 

The first time you stayed over, he walked into his room after giving you privacy to get changed. You were sitting on his bed when he walked back in, in nothing but one of his big shirts, your hair was open, your face free of any makeup. You looked so beautiful, he remembers the way his breath got caught in his throat, the way you blushed when he stared at you for a long time before speaking up. He remembers the way he sat down behind you and gathered your hair with his hands and pulled it into a low ponytail before he kissed your neck softly. 

He doesn’t feel the smile tugging at his lips at that memory. 

He looks at the picture on his nightstand, he reaches for it. The smile on your face so different from the look on your face he saw earlier– the tears in your eyes, the quivering lips, the sadness and the pain in your features. Steve stops breathing for a moment, a sinking feeling takes place in his chest and stomach. 

What did he do? 

He looks up and looks around his room with a weird feeling in his chest. The energy in his room is off, he can feel it now. He looks at his desk, books and papers are laying messily on the table. He remembers studying for a science test with you on his lap, for every right answer he got a kiss from you. He looks over to his bathroom, the door is wide open, he stares at the sink and thinks about the way you used to brush your teeth together in the mornings after you had stayed over.  

The moment those memories start to flood back, he shuts them out. He throws the scrunchie on his bed and gets up, he leaves the room and comes back with an empty box, moments later. He fills it with all the things that belong to you, everything that you have left behind goes into that box, which then goes into the back of his closet. He can’t get rid of it but he can’t give these things back to you either. It’s over but he just can’t give it back. 

He can’t let go. 

He can’t let you go, not yet. 

Not even when he ends up calling her after putting your things into the very back of his closet. Not even when he takes her out on their first date later that night. Not even when he kisses her when he drops her off again– ignoring the way it feels so wrong to feel someone else’s lips on his, ignoring the way it feels like he is betraying you.

-

Sunday morning. No arms are wrapped around you, no kisses are left on your shoulder, no ‘good morning’ whispers. You wake up to an empty bed, goosebumps arise on your skin when the cold wind touches your bare arms, you left the window open for him but he didn’t come, of course he didn't, what were you thinking? That he would climb through your window, apologize for what he did and beg for forgiveness? Did you really think that he would do that? You didn’t but you had hoped that he would. 

You lay in your cold bed, beneath the sheets that do nothing to comfort you. You look around your messy room, it feels so lonely. The house feels lonely without him here. Your mom is rarely ever home, too many shifts at the station keep her out of the house most of the time but Sunday mornings are always spent at home. 

The weather matches your mood, it’s raining harder than the day before and thunder rumbles in the sky. Tears well up in your eyes when your mind takes you back to him. How will you keep going? Your life turned upside down in the span of a few days, you lost him– not only your boyfriend but also your childhood friend. You lost both. He threw it all away, he threw you away like you never meant anything to him. 

A sob rises up in your throat, the ache in your chest is so fresh and it hurts so bad. It makes you want to rip your heart out of your chest to get rid of all this pain. 

You hear dishes clattering in the kitchen. You’re excited to see her so despite the pain and the sadness in your chest, you sit up and drag yourself out of your bed, using the bathroom and freshening up before you make your way downstairs. The smell of coffee lingers in the air, bringing a sense of comfort to you. The radio is on, if you leave me now is playing– how ironic. You roll your eyes and bite back your tears as you walk into the kitchen. Your mom is standing in front of the window, a cup of steaming hot coffee in her hand and a magazine in the other. She is wearing her workout clothes, she must have been on her morning run already.

You swallow, blinking a few times to make your eyes look less glassy. 

“Good morning, mom.” 

You quickly turn towards the coffee pot before she turns around, reaching for the orange mug. You miss the look of surprise on her face when she sees you up so early. 

“Good morning, sweetie.” 

She places her magazine on the counter, leaning against it, she presses the mug to her chest and watches you. You pour some sugar and milk into your coffee, stirring it slowly with the silver spoon, not glancing at her just yet. 

“What are you doing up so early?” 

Is it early? You didn’t even check the time when you got up. A glance at the clock on the wall tells you that it’s 8am. Great. You only slept for two hours. 

“I went to sleep early last night,” you lie and take a sip of your coffee. You turn your back to her and walk towards the kitchen table. You can feel her eyes on you. Maybe it was a mistake to come downstairs already, you are not ready to tell her about what happened. 

She grabs the magazine again and joins you at the table. 

“No date night last night?” She teases you, not knowing that this is enough for you to tear up again, “is Steve still sleeping? I bought those bagels he likes so much.”

Your bottom lip quivers and your eyes well up with tears. 

You and Steve always spent Sunday mornings sitting at the kitchen table with your mom, eating breakfast, drinking coffee and talking for hours. Sometimes Steve’s mom, Lauren would come over as well– now it’s all over. 

You shake your head slowly, staring at the dark liquid inside your favorite mug, “n-no.” 

She doesn’t have to look at your face to know that something is off, the way you are sitting with your shoulders slumped is more than enough for her to figure out that you are not feeling well. She furrows her brows and leans forward. 

“What happened, y/n?” 

You press your lips together, blinking rapidly, as though it will stop the tears from falling. You look up at her through your bangs, tears continuing to well up. Your hands are shaking and it takes everything in you not to break down.

Her eyes flash with realization, she raises her brows and sighs. Her gaze softens and she instantly reaches out to grab your hand, “oh y/n.” 

She doesn’t need words or an explanation to know what happened. The look on your face, the tears in your eyes are enough. She knows it all too well. 

You break down in front of her, not caring about holding the tears in any longer. She hugs you tightly, runs her fingers through your hair and comforts you as best as she can but it does little to make you feel better. The pain is just too fresh. 

How will you keep going? You ask yourself again. Steve had been there all your life, ever since you were little kids, he was there. He was always there and now you just have to accept that he is gone? That you have lost your boyfriend and your best friend? That he fell for another girl and left you for her? That you weren’t enough? That he never loved you when he said he did? 

What if you never crossed that line with him? What if you just stayed friends? What if you saw through him from the start? 

There are so many what if’s running through your mind, so many questions, though you don’t have any answers for them. 

There are so many things that you don’t understand. How could he say I love you when he never meant it? I love you under the moonlight, I love you between kisses, I love you during classes, I love you before he hung up the phone, I love you before going to bed, before leaving your house, before parting ways at school. So many I love you’s, so many lies. How could he touch you and still sleep with you when she was already on his mind? Did he think about her when he was with you? 

You hope he didn’t but that hope dies when you see him a day later, walking down the hallway with a smile on his face, hand in hand with another girl. After only two days of being without you, he is already with her, looking happier than ever. It tears a gasp out of you, it makes you stare at him in shock and with tears in your eyes as he looks right at you. 

Curious eyes, shocked faces and hushed whispers.

Steve swallows nervously, he puts on a brave face. He can see the look in your eyes, the tears, the pain, the shock when your eyes move over to her. Nancy Wheeler. She is holding his hand tightly, looking around shyly when she notices all the stares. Her hand feels different from yours. 

All eyes are on the new couple but his eyes are on you. He watches the way your face goes from shock to pain to betrayal to disappointment. Questions run through your mind, he can tell by the look on your face. He can tell by the way your eyes flash with confusion when they meet his again. How could you? You were mine last week and now you are already hers? Were you ever mine? 

Uncertainty fills him the longer he stares at you.

This was the right decision, right? 

You stare at him for what feels like forever. Time slows and it’s just the two of you in this hallway. He forgets about all the people staring at him, he forgets about her. For a moment, it’s only you and him. Tears that he would have kissed away in other circumstances threaten to fall down your cheeks but you don’t let them. You force them away and blink rapidly. You are suffering because of him. He knows it and it makes his heart sink to his stomach. 

He forces himself to look away from you. He forces himself to look at her. Though his eyes itch to glance at you when he hears your locker shutting and your footsteps echoing through the crowded hallway as you hurry out of the school. You brush past him, the smell of your perfume invades his senses. 

He wants to turn around but he doesn’t. 

-

You knew this would happen, you knew you would break down the moment you would see him. The mention of his name was enough to make you cry but seeing him with her after he just broke up with you was too much. 

You didn’t want to run away, you didn’t want to break down but you couldn’t help it. The moment you saw him with her, a wave of nausea fell over you, you had to get out so you ran out of the school with your backpack in hand and your jacket in the other. You ran to the back of the school, the place where all the stoners– no one is here now, you are grateful for that. 

You throw your backpack on the ground and sit down, leaning your back against the wall, you pull your knees up to your chest, still biting back a sob as tears begin to fall down your cheeks. You are supposed to meet up with Heather and Chrissy at the library but you don’t feel like going back in there and quite frankly, you don’t want to see the pitiful looks in their eyes. 

You lean your elbows on your knees and cup your cheeks as you stare into blank space. 

You don’t understand, how can he be with her after not even a week? 

Was he with her all this time already?

Did he cheat on you? He must have.

The smell of smoke fills the air and the sound of footsteps follow but you don’t bother looking up, hoping that it’s just some random student. Luck isn’t on your side though, it never is. 

You see his boots first, glancing up a little, you see the denim jacket and smell his cologne. The usual eye roll that he would get from you is missing. He doesn’t say anything, instead he blows smoke into the air and sits down next to you. 

You sniffle quietly, hiding your face by looking down. 

“Do you want me to kick his ass?” Billy asks, “cause you know I will.” 

You shake your head. 

He sighs, placing the cigarette between his lips, he turns his head to look at you. Tears roll down your cheeks, the wind blows through your hair, exposing your face a little. You are quiet as you let yourself cry, in front of him. You never thought that you would ever cry in front of Billy, out of all people but right now, you couldn't care less.

“You know, I always thought you were too good for him.” 

You want to scoff and roll your eyes but you don’t have the energy to, not today. 

“That’s bullshit,” you mumble. You know what type of man Billy is, he is just like Steve– if not worse. 

“No, it’s not,” he chuckles, “I might not be the guy you want to hear this from but you deserve better than fucking King Steve. There’s plenty of other guys for a pretty girl like you.”

“That’s not helping,” you mumble. Raising your head to look at him, you expect him to stare at you with a smirk on his face or amusement in his eyes but you find neither. His face is straight, his eyes are filled with– you don’t know what his eyes are filled with, he is hard to read. You don’t see any pity and that’s good enough for you. 

He shrugs and continues to smoke his cigarette. 

You turn away from him again and lean your head against the wall. You look up at the sky and watch the clouds move. 

“I saw them together two weeks ago.” 

You look back at him, watching him through your blurry vision, “w-where?” 

He takes his last drag of the cigarette before he throws it on the ground, he blows the smoke out into the air and turns back to you. 

“At the diner, they were in his car and,” he pauses when he sees the fresh tears in your eyes. 

“And?” You ask. 

Your heart is racing, fear settles in the pit of your stomach. Does it even matter anymore, what he did with her? He left you for her already, it shouldn’t matter anymore but it does. 

He blinks, looking away, he feels a sense of pity for you. Billy doesn’t know what it’s like to get his heart broken this way but he knows what it’s like to be left. 

“They kissed.”

Despite everything that happened, despite the things he told you already. These words still feel like a stab to your heart. Your eyes drop, your shoulders slump and a heavy sigh falls from your lips. 

“Oh..” 

Two weeks ago. He called you after he went to the diner to ‘study’ with her to say goodnight the way he always did but that night was the first time he hung up without saying I love you.

You want to run again. You blink rapidly, wanting the tears to be gone. You get up and grab your stuff, ignoring the weight of his eyes on you. You want to run and get away from everything including yourself.

“Where are you going?” 

You shrug. 

Where are you going? You don't know where you should go.

Billy gets up as well, reaching for your wrist to keep you from running away. You look down at his hand before you look up and into his eyes with a frown on your face. He holds his car keys up, “wanna get out of here?” 

Billy is not someone you want to spend the day with but Steve is now the last person you want to see. You are desperate to get away and you would leave with just about anyone if that means that it will keep you away from him and her.

“Okay.” 

-

Who could’ve ever prepared you for such pain? Absolutely no one– not the many heartbreaking books you’ve read, not the relationships you have watched falling apart, not even your mother’s heartbreak when your father left could have prepared you for the pain that you have been going through since he left you. It should be getting better by now, right? But it doesn’t, if anything, it keeps getting worse and worse. 

Everywhere you go, you see him, everywhere you look, you get reminded of him, memories follow you every way you turn to. He cursed you with love, pain and heartbreak and you despise him for it, you despise the way he shattered your fragile little heart, the way he broke every promise he ever made, the way he never loved you when he told you he did. 

‘I-I’m not even sure if I ever loved you, y/n. I wouldn’t have fallen for her if I did love you, right?’ Those words haunt you, they haunt you day and night, when you wake up in the bed you used to sleep with him in, when you get ready in the bathroom, staring at your reflection, thinking about a time when he would come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, when you walk down the stairs only to think about all the times he would walk through the front door with freshly picked flowers, your favorite ones. Those words haunt you at school, when every place you turn to is nothing but a reminder of him, when you see him with her. They even haunt you in your sleep and there is nothing you can do about it. 

Curious and confused glances were thrown your and Steve’s way after the breakup, whispers in the locker rooms, bathrooms and hallways– you heard them all. You weren’t the only one shocked about Steve’s actions, everyone else was too. 

A month of torture had passed and you know that it’s far from over. No matter what you do, no matter who you are with, you can’t stop thinking about him, you can’t stop hurting, you can’t stop crying every time you think of him, you can’t stop tearing up every time you see him. This morning you had walked in on them kissing in the bathroom, her back was pressed against the wall, his hands were on her waist, he was kissing her hungrily. Neither of them saw you, you left just as quick as you came. It ruined your day before it even started. 

Will this ever end? This pain, this heartbreak? 

Your knees are pulled to your chest, your eyes are closed, your chin resting on your knees. You should be at cheer practice, instead you are crying your eyes out on the cold bathroom floor. 

The door opens and two different voices fill the silence in the bathroom, ones you instantly recognize. 

“I just don’t get why you’re so mad–”

“You promised that we’d leave together but you just ditched me because you wanted to lose your stupid virginity to King Steve, who’s by the way, a huge asshole,” Barb grumbles, “I bet it wasn’t even worth it.”

“I-It was! And he’s not an asshole!” You hear Nancy exclaim, “he’s sweet a-and it was.. nice. And it’s not like something happened to you, you got home safe, didn’t you?” 

Your eyes snap open, you place your hand over your lips. Your heart leaps to your throat and your stomach clenches uncomfortably. 

So he didn’t sleep with her while he was still with you. It does little to comfort you, it still makes you feel sick to know that he is with her, that he is so happy while you still cry yourself to sleep every night. 

Does he hold her afterwards? He never held you after you had sex– maybe once or twice on nights where you had felt sad, he traced your skin, drawing stars around the scars that only he got to see. Does he kiss her afterwards? He never kissed you, most of the time he only pecked your forehead and then he would turn away from you. Does he fall asleep afterwards or does he actually bother to take care of her the way he never took care of you? 

“Right,” Barb scoffs, “well, don’t be surprised when he leaves you for another virgin.”

Virgin. Is that what he wanted? Another virgin, another notch on his belt? A new thing to brag about? 

“Why are you so mean?” Nancy mumbles. 

“I’m not mean, I’m just telling the truth, he seems to be moving on quickly– he was just dating y/n and now he’s with you, like he wasn’t in a long term relationship.” 

You hear Nancy shuffling around the bathroom, placing her bag on the floor, followed by a loud sigh. 

“I mean, it wasn’t love.” 

You raise your eyebrows and clench your jaw. Anger fills you and pain tugs at your heart. You know it wasn’t love for him but it still hurts you to hear those words. Does he talk to her about you? Does he laugh about what he once knew love to be now that he has her, the girl he actually loves? 

“It wasn’t love?” Barb asks, laughing at her friend's words, “I don’t know about you but they seemed pretty in love to me.” 

“Well, he wasn’t in love with her– I mean, he dated her because that was expected of him, right? She’s the popular cheerleader, the pretty rich girl,” she says mockingly, “those have nothing in their brains and they’re pretty boring too so.. It was all just for show, I-I mean, do you really think he wanted her for her? I’m pretty sure that she’s already onto the next guy anyway, girls like her are–”

“Whoa that’s mean, Nance.” 

Yeah, these words are mean for someone who looks so sweet and innocent. You don’t know whether to laugh or to walk out and slam her stupid face into the mirror. You have been holding yourself back from confrontations, not wanting to reveal how hurt and angry you really are about the breakup and about her stealing from you. 

“It’s the truth! Steve told me that Billy Hargrove was after her since he moved here this summer.”

“What does that have to do with her being ‘easy’? He’s after her? So? Half of the school would die for a chance with her, that doesn’t make her easy, it’s not like she’s after them– besides, even if she was, she’s single and free to do whatever she wants. She wasn’t the one who went after other people while she was still in a relationship unlike your boyfriend. The only easy one here is Steve– seriously, stop being so mean, you got what you wanted, what else do you want?” 

That’s what you ask yourself as well, what else does she want?

You push yourself up and smooth down your skirt but before you can leave the stall and make your presence known to them, their footsteps echo through the bathroom, the door opens and they leave without realizing that you were there. 

Sighing, you slump against the wall and look up at the ceiling. You never really cared about Nancy Wheeler, you never had anything to do with her. You didn’t mind her, not even when you saw the way she looked at Steve while he was still yours, her big and innocent eyes trained on the King. She always batted her eyelashes at him, giggled at his stupid jokes and it drove him crazy, he loved it, the attention he got from another girl. She wasn’t the first one who looked at him that way, who touched his arm and giggled at his jokes but she was the first one who managed to steal his attention away from you. 

She was the first one who made him doubt his feelings for you. 

And he let it all happen and it angers you because you feel like a fool for loving him despite the things he put you through. He will never be yours again and you will never be his again, you know it and yet it’s still such a hard thing to grasp. It’s only been a few weeks without him, yet it feels like a lifetime.

You know you have to let him go. 

You kept holding onto him, hoping that he would come back because you thought you knew that he would come back but he won’t and he never will. He looks happy with her, happier than he ever looked with you and no matter how much it hurts, you let him go and you get rid of every part of him that you kept holding onto.

The sweater that he left behind in your bedroom, the collection of polaroids in the shoebox under your bed. The necklace he gave you on your sixteenth birthday. The bottle of cologne that he left on your dresser. The ring he put on your finger– a promise ring. You throw it all away, not letting the memories get to you this time. You push them all out, you force them all out of your mind. 

You let him go. 

-

Steve Harrington stopped existing in your life. Days and weeks have passed since the day he left you and it’s as though he became a ghost in your life. You stopped looking at him, you stopped acknowledging his presence– whenever you walk past him in the hallways, you pretend to not see him, when you’re in the same class, you never spare a single glance at him, not even when you have to walk past him to get to your seat, when you’re both at basketball games and you have to cheer him and his team on, you look at everyone but at him and it bothers him. It bothers him to see you acting like he doesn’t exist to you, like he’s not even there, like he’s invisible. 

He doesn’t understand what the feeling in his chest is every time he sees you– odd. It feels odd to see you walk past him without stopping by his locker to steal a kiss– he did this, he caused this. He didn’t want you anymore. He wanted her and now he has her but why does he feel like the worst person alive? Why does he feel so unhappy when he finally has what he wants? 

“Steve?” 

You stop in front of your locker, opening it, you look at yourself in the tiny mirror you put into your locker– you look beautiful, the way you always do. Your hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, you’ve got your cheer uniform on like always, a cardigan that looks way too big on you hangs loosely on your form, it reminds him of the way his big sweaters would look on you. 

He wonders if you still think about him. He wonders if you still hate him for what he did to you almost two months back. He wonders if you would curse him out if he came over to talk. He wonders if–

“Steve!” 

Nancy tugs on his hand and says his name a little louder, pulling him out of his thoughts and forcing him to tear his eyes away from you. He blinks, furrowing his brows as he looks down at her. 

“Yeah, what is it?” 

“Are you… okay?” She asks, giving him a small smile. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he looks back at you again, “yeah, I’m okay.” 

“What are you doing tonight?” Nancy asks.

He shrugs, “I don’t know, I thought we could watch a movie or something.”

“Oh uh, about that,” Nancy starts, looking around, she doesn’t even notice the way he looks at you, “I have this thing–”

Steve frowns, though it’s not because of his girlfriend’s words but because of the man approaching you. 

“Thing?” Steve mumbles. 

“Yeah, I’m working on this project with Jonathan and we gotta get it done before christmas break, so..” 

“Oh, yeah that’s fine,” Steve says without really thinking about her words. His attention is elsewhere. 

Billy Hargrove. 

Steve had always hated him. He moved here this summer and left an amazing impression the first time he met him. Billy had set his eyes on you the moment he stepped into Hawkins. 

Every party you and Steve had gone to together, ended with you arguing because of Billy Hargrove– well more so because of himself and his jealousy, because he couldn’t contain it, because he was too insecure, because he saw the way he looked at you, like he knew that he would get you eventually, like he knew that he would get you to leave him. 

Maybe that’s where it all went wrong.

Maybe his insecurities got the best of him. 

Maybe things would have been different if he wasn’t so jealous all the time. 

“Hey uh– I’m meeting Barb at the library, I gotta go,” Nancy says before she grabs his chin and pulls him in for a short kiss. 

Steve forces a smile onto his face and pecks her lips once more before he lets her go. He watches her leave and waves at her when she turns around to flash him another smile. When she is gone, he turns back to you. 

Billy’s hand is resting on the locker next to yours, the usual smirk on his face is wide as he eyes you up and down. You don’t seem too happy about his presence though, rolling your eyes at whatever he is saying to you. Billy leans even closer to you and you don’t hesitate to push him away from you, you sigh, he can tell by the way your lips part and the way your chest rises. You press your fingertips against his chest to keep him away from you, saying something to him that Steve can’t make out from afar before you turn around and leave. Billy doesn’t even look fazed, if anything, he smirks even more and tilts his head, licking his lips as he stares at your legs. 

Steve rolls his eyes, still hating the way Billy looks at you. He shuts his locker and walks into the same direction you walked to. It’s the last class of the day, the one he shares with you; English class. 

You are already in your seat when Steve walks into the classroom. The seat next to yours is empty, it still is ever since he moved. You are looking down at your notebook, a pencil tugged between your lips as your other hand is propped against your cheek. He looks away and makes his way over to his new usual seat when he realizes that it’s already taken by Tommy Hagan who looks at him with a smirk on his face. His girlfriend, Carol is chewing her gum obnoxiously as she sports the same smirk as her boyfriend. Steve clenches his jaw in anger, irritation sparks inside of him. 

These two have been making his school days more unbearable than before ever since his fallout with Tommy. 

“There’s a free seat,” Carol smirks as she points to the seat next to yours, “the queen looks pretty lonely without her king, don’t you think?” 

Tommy chuckles, “yeah, don’t worry we won’t tell your mistress.” 

Steve scoffs at their words, rolling his eyes, he looks around the classroom. The seat next to yours is indeed the only free one. Fuck. He shakes his head and turns away, begrudgingly making his way over to his old seat. He glances at you when he throws his books on the table. 

You don’t acknowledge his presence but you freeze when he sits down next to you. You pause what you are doing, clenching your hand into a fist and taking deep breaths. Steve notices it all– he wonders if you are angry or nervous. 

He leans back in his seat and turns around to look at his old friends who are already giggling. He glares at them and turns back around, hoping that this lesson will go by quickly. 

He tries to keep his eyes off of you but he keeps glancing at you every few seconds or so. He notices something, it’s a small detail but he notices it, the eyeshadow on your eyelids has been replaced by black eyeliner, that must make your eyes look brighter– if you just looked at him, he would know. 

His mom asks about you all the time, he felt bad when he had to tell her that he broke up with you, he felt even worse when he had to tell her about his new girlfriend. She wasn’t too excited to meet her. His mom adores you. He doesn’t remember the last time she saw you. He doesn’t even remember the last time he saw you out of school. You started skipping cheer practice, you stopped coming to games even though it is your job to do so as the cheer captain, you have slowly started to give that title over to your friend, Chrissy. Some days you even came to school with your regular clothes, ditching the cheer outfit for a pair of jeans and a sweater. 

He wonders how you are feeling. 

He wonders what you do in your free time now. 

He wonders if you still listen to the same music. 

He wonders if–

“You’ll be working on this assignment in pairs.”

“Do we get to choose our partner?” Carol asks with a smirk on her face. 

Panic fills Steve’s chest when he stares at the teacher. He missed the whole class because he was staring at you.

“No,” Mrs. Jones says with a straight face, “not after the last time. You work with your seat partner. You got a little over a week, so–” she pauses as she takes a look at the calendar on her wall, “you will get to finish it just in time before Christmas break.” 

Steve drowns out the rest of her words, he swallows nervously as he looks over at you. His palms get sweaty and his heart begins to race in his chest. 

You are not giving any reactions, you pretend to be unbothered by this whole situation. When the bell rings and everyone gets up to leave the classroom, you get up and gather your books. 

Steve runs his hand through his hair and looks around before his eyes find you again. He speaks your name with uncertainty in his voice. 

“Don’t bother, Harrington. I’ll write the assignment myself, not that you’d be much of a help anyways,” you mumble, coldly. 

This is the first time you have said anything to him in weeks, you didn’t even bother to look at him. You didn’t even bother to wait for him to say something. You turned around and left without sparing a single glance. 

“Y/n!” He calls out to you but you are already gone. 

Sighing, he slumps back into his seat, not caring about the many eyes on him. 

“Aw,” Carol coos with a smug look on her face, “cute, the lovers will reunite again. Isn’t that how you met Nancy?” 

Tommy chuckles, throwing his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder, he looks down at Steve, “yeah,” he nods, “don’t think that King Steve will get his queen back though,” he chuckles. 

Carol’s eyes flash with amusement, “right, last time I checked she was screwing around with Billy,” she says. Giggling when she sees the shocked look on Steve’s face, “oops, you didn’t know?” 

She pouts at him, “guess your fear was valid after all, I mean that’s what you were always afraid of, right? That he would steal your girl?” 

Steve swallows harshly, he feels like he has been punched. You are sleeping with Billy? The guy you always told him not to worry about? The guy that caused all his jealousy?

“Don’t worry, Steve,” Tommy laughs, “it’s just sex, damaged girls like her just wanna be fucked," he says before he turns around with a chuckle, he and Carol leave before Steve gets to say anything back.

A bitter taste lays on his tongue, he leans back in his seat, staring down at the hair tie around his wrist.

He can't believe it, he can't believe you.

-

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[feyascorner]

as the snow falls

summary. years after becoming the vampire ascendant and harnessing the endless power he’s always wanted, the loneliness of his throne brings him to reminisce about the only person who’d ever cracked the surface of his frozen heart.

so why not visit them disguised as someone else?

warnings. angst, little to no comfort, bittersweet, this is kinda long

pairing. astarion x GN!reader

a/n. happy holidays everyone! I thought about making a fluffier fic but what’s better than holiday angst!! this takes place years after the game where Tav/reader breaks up with astarion once he becomes ascendant btw!

He hated fresh snow. At this time of year, he left the palace more often, leaving deep footprints that ruin its perfect evenness. He preferred when it was stained with blood, but then again, he preferred anything over untouched snow.

So when he sits up from his bed, which is far too big for one person, he sighs irritably at the snow falling softly on the other side of the window. His voice awakens the woman beside him, who rubs at her eyes, her other fingers grazing at the two identical puncture wounds at her neck.

To be quite honest, he'd forgotten she was there. He only notices her when she revels at what he's staring at, letting out a shrilling gasp. “My Lord, it’s snowing! How beautiful.”

Judging from the way she oh so comfortably addresses him, he figures she’s one of the newer servants in the palace. Any other half witted person would know to keep their head down and leave quietly, but not her. While it would bother him on any other occasion, he doesn't bother reprimanding her as his mind fails to supply him the words. He doesn't even know her name.

“Get out,” is all he says, voice an octave deeper than usual. There's a slight pause before she scrambles to climb out of the bed, finally having had some sense knocked into her. He only glances at her right as she shuts the door, eyes only noticing how her hair is the same shade as his late lover.

When he turns back to his window, he remembers how your hair had looked softer than hers. He remembers the way it had felt when he ran his fingers through your strands, and the way you'd smile in that enchanting way of yours. The way he'd let you run your own hands through white curls in return, immersed in a world where only the two of you existed in that cruddy tent while the very real problems of the outside world didn’t weigh as heavy as they usually did.

He pulls the curtains closed.

By the time he gets to his throne room, the palace is already wide awake. While Cazador’s operations had run themselves mainly during the night, Astarion was different. He could bathe in the sun all he wanted and would only come out glowing, and he'd abuse that to his full advantage. He was not afraid of the sun, because they were not the same.

They were not the same at all.

As he paces by the servants, they all hush down, quietly returning to their busy schedules as they prepare whatever housework they'd been assigned to. When he perches on his throne, he looks down at all of them, eyes narrowed at each of their movements. He’s not truly paying any of them any attention, except for the occasional ones who have the same shade of hair as the servant this morning. Those ones have puncture wounds on their necks.

Even if their blood tastes vile in comparison to yours, it’s the closest he can get.

Finally, something truly catches his attention. If he didn't have such keen ears, he wouldn't have heard the few in the corner, whispering.

“The heroes are celebrating the restoration of the city at Elfsong tavern tonight!” one says excitedly. “Do you think Master will go see them?”

“No, certainly not,” another responds. “He rarely meets them anymore, does he? Shame. I would love to see them in person before they leave. I heard a few of them won’t be coming back for a while.”

“Surely we could go ourselves?”

“Well,” one ponders. “If we hurry with all our assignments perhaps we can make it in time…”

Astarion snaps back into attention when a male servant approaches him, admittedly with a swallow of his throat. “My Lord.”

“What is it?” he snaps, thought it surprises even himself how harshly it came out. Not that he cares.

“T-the entire first floor has been scraped clean, my Lord. The second floor, twice,” he stammers, eyes looking anywhere but at Astarion’s face. While it first boosted his ego seeing others cower in fear, now it just irritates him. “Of course, we haven't touched the left wing, as you instructed, but there were some worries regarding the dust collecting in the main bedroom there, and-”

“The left wing will remain the way it is until I orderwise,” Astarion responds immediately, then pauses. “Tell the others to rid the yards of snow.”

The servant’s eyes go wide. “But my Lord, it’s still snowing…and there's already a few inches—to clean it would just result in the snow piling again-”

“I won't repeat myself, child.”

He is not like Cazador. Not at all.

As the servant stumbles away with a frantic nod, Astarion’s gaze drifts towards the windows again. He’d had them installed the second he took possession of the palace, refusing to keep its walls in darkness any longer. He'd torn off the curtains, wallpaper, decorations, and replaced them all with new ones—ones that were more to his liking. It was an entirely new Palace, and yet…

The only place he'd left untouched was the left wing. He knew the servant’s words came from reason. The left wing was surely to rot away at this rate, being left unoccupied for so long. He hated the way it had no windows, the way the curtains were the same blood red shade Cazador had favored, and how the hallway was only dimly lit with a few candles.

He closes his eyes.

He remembers your voice so clearly, he might’ve mistaken you for standing right before him. “Once we kill Cazador, isn't this place yours?”

He had raised a brow. “Perhaps. Why do you ask?”

“Maybe you can make this place more pleasing to the eye, I don't like how dark it is now.”

“Really? I am curious as to what you would deem admirable interior design. Perhaps I’ll give you a portion of the palace to yourself, my dear.”

He snaps his eyes open.

He truly hated when it snowed.

He looks down at all his subjects once more. And this time, he found the isolation of the throne eating at a heart that he no longer had.

——

The snow doesn't stop, even as the sun sets.

And while he detests himself for doing so, he finds himself entering Elfsong tavern, where the night’s just begun. After hours of contemplation, convincing himself he had no reason to join the celebrations of common folk, he thinks of course you of all people would celebrate at a mere tavern over a lavish party with the rich. Of course you'd prefer to listen to a less than pathetic excuse for a bard than a musician with years of experience.

He curses that humble streak of yours as he steps into the building with a disguise spell. He’s still an elf, handsome but not as much as his ordinary self. His hair is a shade of chestnut brown, eyes in a different color than his usual as well. It’s enough to pass as a different person.

He doesn't have to look around long, because someone bumps into his shoulder, yelping an obnoxious ‘ow!’ before turning to him. And while Astarion contemplates a more violent outcome for daring to cross a vampire, he quickly stops when he sees a familiar wizard.

“Sorry about that. Have a lot on my hands right now,” Gale apologizes with that annoying smile of his before rushing back to his table with the two drinks in his hands. It’s crowded in the tavern, but none of it stops Astarion from spotting you in an instant.

Gods above.

That same shade of hair framing your laughing expression is all he can see. Gale sets the drinks in front of you and Shadowheart, and the vampire makes out your thanks from the way you mouth the words before taking a chug from it.

You’ve matured. Your hair is styled differently than he remembers from a few years ago. The way you carry yourself is different too. And you seem more comfortable under so many gazes—all of which he wishes it were only his.

You look happy.

A part of himself hates you for it.

But when he dwells on the feeling a moment too long, he realizes it’s more directed to himself. Because while you sit there with that beautiful smile on your face, surrounded by your companions and the admiration of the city, all he has is the cold grips of his throne, where all he seems to think about is blood, and more importantly, you.

Enough, he thinks. He's making a fool of himself. He's sure you'd rather not see him anyway, after the poor falling out the two of you had. And he's not sure what he'd do if you came too close to him, which is also something he'd rather not test.

But then, you stand up. You wave something at the others before pacing across the tavern toward the back door. Astarion doesn't even have to will his legs to move before they're halfway across the door, trailing after you.

When he finds you again, you're ankle deep in the fresh layer of snow behind the loud tavern, in the otherwise quiet city of the night. You're staring at the sky as a snowflake lands on your nose, and you make no moves to wipe it off, instead you breathe in, and then out, leaving Astarion to stare blankly from the shadows.

“You can come out, you know. I promise I don't bite,” you hum, and a lump grows in his throat. Still, he does.

“It’s cold,” he says.

“It is,” you smile, oblivious to who you're speaking to through the disguise. He simultaneously wants to reveal himself and hide in the shadows. “It’s nice though. I've always loved snow, and this might be my last chance to see it in Baldur’s Gate for a while.”

He stares at the way your breath steams against the freezing air. “Have plans of travel? Surely a hero like you would prefer to stay in a city of people in your debt.”

“Adventuring, probably,” you shrug, turning your gaze back down to the snow. “I’ve done what I can here. No reason for me to stay.”

The selfish part of him flares, though it seems to be most of him nowadays. Him. He should be the reason.

His brows furrow. “You won't be coming back?”

“Probably not for a while. This city holds a lot of memories, and not all of them are ones I'm rather fond of,” you sigh. “I just wish I could've helped more people, but I suppose life just doesn't work out the way you want it to.”

He raises a brow. “How ambitious. I would think saving an entire city is enough for at least a few lifetimes.”

“Well,” your voice drops. “There was one more person I really wanted to help. One that I lost.”

He remains quiet, eyes glued to the way you kick at the snow.

“I should have guided him better. Should have let him know that he was enough. Not because he was some all powerful being, but just because he was him. I thought—” your nose crinkles. “—I thought I'd been helping him, by encouraging him any way I could. But that tore us apart, and I'd do anything to go back and fix it.”

To be in that tent again, to hold you close again, to love you again.

“Sounds like a lucky man to receive such endearing words from you,” is all he manages.

You snort, laughing a bit. “I was the lucky one to have ever met him. I just wish our time together hadn't been so short.”

And as you hold out cupped hands to the sky, gathering the snow, Astarion feels his chest go impossibly tight when you finally meet his eyes. Gods, had he missed them. “I wish we could've seen the snow together. The first snow in the morning, when nothing’s touched it and it’s just a perfect even layer. I think he would have liked it.”

“I’m sure,” he says. “I’m sure he would've enjoyed watching the snow with you.”

You smile again, and he forces down the urge to pull you closer right then and there. To remind you that you can have all that, and more. He could give you everything, the world be damned. He could have you sit on his lap in the throne of his palace, and fill your head with hushed promises of love and praises, holding you tight to his side with one hand and wine in the other.

He could forget about how cold the throne feels.

Instead, he only watches you step out of the snow and pace towards the door leading back to the tavern. And as you open the door, you glance back at him. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“I ought to return home. I have quite the night ahead of me.”

You tilt your head. “Shame, I was hoping to buy you a drink for listening to a complete stranger for five minutes.”

Astarion offers a slight nod. “Perhaps next time, I’ll take you up on that offer.”

He hates the churning inside of him as he realizes this is your final farewell. This is the last time you’ll give him your full attention, and he detests the way all he wants to do is to convince you to stay. To realize he can offer so much more than the rest of the world. That he’d ruin the world for you.

But when your smile softens, he stops himself again. He curses the effect you have on him. “Next time, then.”

And then the door shuts closed.

He stares at it for a long time, waging an internal battle where he struggles to gather his composure relentlessly until he looks away and turns his attention back to the snow.

He breathes. Not because he has to—because he doesn't—but because it finally allows his shoulders to relax.

The air is cold in his throat.

Somehow, from here rather than the view from his bedroom, the snow doesn't look so bad.

[jjkeremika]

AoT men confess their love for you

i.e., how i think they’d tell you they love you

reader x Eren, Jean, Armin, Reiner, Porco, Erwin, Levi, Zeke, Bertoldt

*unspecified gender reader*

Eren - blurts it out during sex and you can’t convince me otherwise

You and Eren weren’t really dating, per se… more like… hooking up behind your best friend’s back. The fact that Mikasa was his sister and your best friend was enough to keep both your urges at bay for a few months, but when she left for summer camp and he stayed behind, leaving just you two to keep each other company… well… things took on a life of their own.

So for the whole summer you and Eren gallivanted around the districts over, going on unlabelled dates and hiding from those (Armin, Jean) who just might tell Mikasa about the tryst, because maybe telling her was just too fast or too complicated for the easy and noncommittal situationship.

Which felt like exactly that… until you were bouncing on his cock in the back of his car, his mouth attached to your neck and your fingers curled in his hair. He thrusted upwards, evoking a loud moan from you, when Eren suddenly blurted out, “I think I love you,” with a hearty breath, his hips never stuttering as he kept the motion, his mouth compensating for the words by pressing to your neck.

Maybe it was time to call your best friend.

Jean - it slips out and he tries to deflect it but you already knew

You met Jean during volunteer community service, where you and the awkwardly-tall brunette would leisurely walk around the districts and collect litter. The first day everyone was set off in pairs, you two randomly assigned to wander the same district, and you both actively decided to group together every time after that.

Your conversations were rarely of any importance, mostly letting it serve as either a way to pass time or to express feelings and opinions about people the other doesn't know. At first, he talked an awfully lot about some woman who you weren't sure from his stories if she even knew he existed. Over the months of service together, he stopped bringing her up and started talking about this other person of interest instead.

His cheeks and ears turned bright pink whenever you'd ask about how he met this person, usually providing some vague and nondeterministic answer that honestly left you more confused than before. Some stuttered-out answers and a few too-similar-to-your-own interests later, you had a deep suspicion and debated how to delve it out of him.

It wasn't very hard. One week before the holiday break you two were wandering around, discussing future plans with friends and family for the upcoming holiday. "Are you excited for the break?" you asked, nudging his side with your elbow. "Huh?" he responded curiously, "Oh, I... Yeah, I guess." You snorted in response, "Sounds like it. C'mon, the holiday is a time for being with your love ones! Isn't that exciting?"

"But I only see them not on break, during volunteerin--" It was almost like he'd forgotten who he was speaking to, and his entire face erupted in various shades of pinks and reds, maybe even a light purple from the lack of breathing. He was internally kicking himself, berating himself for being so loose and stupid around you, for always struggling to think around you. He was oblivious to the smile on your face. "I, uh, because, I... love volunteering... so much."

Armin - tells you he's in love with you because you've changed his life (he’s poetic without meaning to be)

Armin was unusual from other men you’ve dated. Height aside, he was very in touch with his emotions, intelligent, and capable; but he tormented himself with baseless insecurities and unfounded truths until all of his perks were equally weighed down by his shortcomings. He’d bring himself down until he was impossibly low, until his opinion of himself couldn’t get lower.

He was depressed when you first met, his friends warning you that maybe it was beyond you, that it wasn’t your responsibility anyway. You knew that, of course, but it was Armin, and it’s difficult to watch sunshine be forced behind endless seas of clouds. So you’d remind him as much as possible to be kinder to himself, to speak to himself positively since he’s the only one who he will spend forever with.

It wasn’t a surprise when your relationship advanced; the effort and care you put in him nurtured feelings beyond friendship. The warmth spread inside him like a wildfire from a lit match in dry brush, and he found himself favoring you over any form of logic or reason.

It was a random weekday when he pulled you aside, trying to make time for a brief 5 minute date between lessons. He seemed nervous, which wasn’t necessarily odd, but he’d become significantly more comfortable around you over the years. “I, uh,” he started unsurely, hesitantly, “You mean so much to me. I can't imagine this life without you. I..." He crossed his forearm over his stomach as he anchored his shaky hand on the inside of his other arm's elbow, holding it tightly to stop his body from shaking as he angelically stared into your eyes. "I’m in love with you. And I don’t mean that poetically or sexually or theoretically or logically or figuratively or ideologically or any of that. I mean it literally. I am in love with you.”

Reiner - tried to act like he didn’t care but he was really invested in your response

You had been casually dating around when you first met Reiner, the tall bulky blond with the bordering-arrogant demeanor having approached you at the bar while your date was in the bathroom. He had a confident smirk plastered across his cheeks as he said, “You know, my wallet has been itching to buy the most stunning person in this room a drink, and, well, I think I’ve found them.”

It shouldn’t have worked but you’d had a few drinks already and a new heat burned in your abdomen and he was significantly more attractive than your current date, so you accepted his invitation to buy you a new drink and take the seat. A second first date of the night, completed with a quick fuck in the bathroom and at home.

Your relationship progressed smoothly from then on, with a heavy positive emphasis in the bedroom. And while neither of you ever clarified the relationship and asked if it was official, your eyes and lips and privates were so glued to each other there was no peripheral for any one else. Which was why, while Reiner never explicitly stated how he felt for you aside from daily comments--"My god, baby, you are so sexy,"; "Mmf, you make me feel too fucking good, darlin', fuck,"; "Sexiest person alive, yeah. you already know I'm speaking about you and your smart sexy ass,"--you were never really that worried anyway.

So when you two were laying on your backs in the bed, side-by-side, chest heaving to catch your breaths, and the words slipped from his mouth post-coitus, "Fuck, darlin', I love you," you were shocked, and a, "What did you say?" slipped from your mouth before you could process. He bit the inside of his lip and felt a nervous weightlessness erupt in his stomach. Reiner shrugged and sat upright, blocking his face from your view with his back. "Huh? Didn't hear me?" Reiner asked, forcing his voice to remain confident and steady, and turned to look at you briefly before stirring to stand up. He shrugged, the inside of his cheek rough and chewed up like a dog-toy. "I just said I love you. It's not a... big deal."

Porco - says it like a joke so you aren’t totally sure if he means it

Galliard was your best guy friend, joining you anywhere you didn’t want to go alone and cracking jokes to lighten the mood. He was really good at that, making you laugh, and he couldn’t deny that the sound was like music to his ears, magical notes strung together to create the most beautiful song he’d ever heard.

It was exactly because of how close you two were that both of you feared doing exactly what you wanted the other to do—make the first move. And because it was the other one, every flirty touch or suggestive comments were stripped of all intention, because there’s just no way the best friend would ever be into them too. Instead, it was personally replaced with sarcastic or playful undertones and purposeful reminders of feelings that didn’t exist.

You had convinced him to go to the lake with you, which your friends conveniently bailed on so that it really was just you two. Porco had hopped into your kayak from the dock, taking you by surprise and fearing a capsize. “Porco!” you screamed, giggling, holding onto the edge of the kayak, “What’s wrong with your own kayak? Desperately trying to get close to me?”

You watched the adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed intently, like he was carefully choosing when to breathe and what to say. “Haha, yeah,” he settled on, forcing himself to chuckle lightly, his voice littered with nuanced feelings he couldn’t bring himself to say confidently, “because I’m definitely in love with you…” You noticed Porco’s lack of eye contact, that he was now looking far off into the distance. “Or something like that,” he joked nervously, wiping his sweaty palms against his thighs as he sat down behind you, hoping you couldn’t see through his charade.

Erwin (age gap) - planned it out but everything didn’t go to plan

After six months together, Erwin already knew how strongly he felt towards you. You were everything he could’ve hoped for and everything he’d waited for. He already knew he wanted you as his future spouse (eventually, he knew you weren’t ready to marry). And so he wanted the moment he told you how he felt to be special to you, to be as special as you were to him.

Erwin had your six-month anniversary date planned out to the T: first, a leisurely walk around the park; second, a quick stop at a couple of your favorite shops nearby to browse and buy you a gift (or gifts, really, he’d buy whatever you wanted); third, stop in at the new bistro you’ve been dying to try—“Ooh, Winnie, look, look! We have to go there!”; fourth, walk around and watch the stars until your feet were sore and he could carry you home.

A sudden rainstorm ruined the walk, forcing both of you to run for cover under some trees for quite some time until it passed. Once the rain finally stopped, it was too close to the dinner reservation time to stop in at the shops, and he shuttled you to the bistro. You were both sat next to a loud family with screaming children, barely able to hear the other speak the entire time, staring at each other with morose smiles while munching on mediocre food. The stars hid behind thick dark clouds as you both walked home, and Erwin felt too defeated to ask to carry you because you were finally enjoying that brisk walk.

At your doorstep, when he profusely apologized for ruining your anniversary date—“Ernie, seriously? Stop apologizing! You can’t control the weather! And the restaurant was my idea anyway.” The frown lines on his face deepened and twisted in morose. “No, that’s not…” he sighed, upset that nothing had gone to plan, “I wanted everything to be the perfect night for my perfect person, a wonderful night solely for the one I love…” he added in a whisper, “…and I messed it all up.”

Inviting him felt like the only way to reverse his thoughts, to make him realize that, despite everything he considered so wrong, it was all so correctly wrong to you it may as well have been perfect.

Levi - thinks it should be obvious since he’s still with you

It was about subtlety when dating Levi. At least, that’s what you’d figured out in the year you’ve been together. His face was relatively expressionless, so you’d learned to read his body language, but you honestly worried you’d never be fluent, because you still questioned the presence or validity of his feelings for you on some days.

He said it once, that he felt deeply for you on the day he asked you out. He repeated it on your six-month anniversary, when you asked if he still felt that way and he answered with a monotoned, “Well, yeah. Obviously. I thought it was implied since we’re together and all.”

Your favorite version of him was when he was sleepy, when he was too tired to keep his protective walls up, because he was cuddly and cozy and craved nothing but your presence and warmth and actively showered you with soft kisses.

It was when his guard was down like this that you asked him, on your one-year, if he still felt the same—shielding the fear of his answer by joking that you’ll ask him every six months—and he rolled his eyes playfully and chuckled, wrapping his arm tighter around you, kissing your cheek, and muttering, “Yes, love, and I’ll give you the same answer six months, six years, and six centuries from now.”

Zeke - writes you a love letter (unlike armin he tries to be poetic)

Zeke was into you well before you even started to reciprocate those feelings. There was something so enigmatic about you, a light airy aura that made him feel buoyant, that unchained him from the burden of his father’s wants and wishes. In his eyes, you saved him.

For a debt he felt he could never repay, he always brought you flowers and sweets and gifts; he wrote long poems detailing that your beauty was beyond all beholders, that you put the sun to shame, that you were the spark to start his supernova; he sent you good morning beautiful and sweet dreams baby texts, hoping you started and ended your day with a smile.

After a couple months of exclusive dating, he wrote you a love letter, expressing the extent of what you meant to him—the burning shape of you etched permanently in his heart—, handing it to you with a deep red stretched across his face and asking you to read it privately, to share it with no one.

My dearest beloved, I write as I know my tongue will fail me, reminiscent of all previous attempts where my lips part and only whimsy air escapes. Remember those moments, my dear? How you'd don a concerned expression and question me in my flustered state. Oh, how futile the intention feels when my spiritual body abandons me, rendering my physical body utterly useless in translation as my stoic invulnerability precedes me. Oh, how I yearn for you the way broken skin stitches itself back together, the way fibers of a wire stretch to hold on, to come together and remain as one. Oh, how you complete me the manner punctuation consummates these phrases, embedding the lines with a flourish no words could elicit. All your self-proclaimed flaws are null to the universe, your soul culminating as the true embodiment of pure perfection with flavorful cracks in the profile, cracks that you've offered to my pitiful soul, pristine ledges to hold on to as humanity crumbles from your grace. Oh, how if what you provide me with is god-like pity, how I want nothing more than for that bliss to fuel my burning heart, to further engulf my being with this feverish love, to only be quenched by your will.

Bertoldt - he’s shy, so his friends tell you for him

Look, really, no offense to Bertoldt, but, well, he never said a word. Which, like, what the hell? You could tell—or rather, you were pretty sure—he was into you by the way he tensed up when you were around, by the longing glances he’d cast your direction when you were nearby.

Holding conversations was difficult in an endearing way, because he was shy—painfully shy—around you, making small comments with a smile and pink cheeks, stuttering out small compliments and avoiding eye contact like he’d crossed a line (honestly you wished he’d crossed more).

You were starting to lose hope after months of talking led to little improvements, him still awkward around you, still not telling you how he really feels, if he likes you in that way. And like, how could you really be sure that he did if his hints were shit?

One day you receive a video message from Reiner, in it depicting Bertoldt and Porco sitting on a leather couch and talking—well, Porco wasn’t. Bertoldt was talking. A lot. About you. Talking about how you make him so nervous he freezes, how he finds you so attractive his body doesn’t know how to react, how he gets goosebumps on his neck at just the sound of your voice, how the secret love he had for you took up so much volume in his throat he couldn’t even speak or breathe near you.

[jacevelaryonswife]

Hiding all of our sins from the daylight | Part Two

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

summary: Even if you were willing to forget what happened, when you saw the prince that morning you knew that your relationship would never be the same.

word count: 3.191

tags: slight angst and adult themes

masterlist — previous part

A bond germinated between the prince and you as the days went by. There was no sin in your conversations, but a servant could never be friends with a nobleman, and above all: a woman could never be friends with a man. Although you believed that the existing dynamics with Jacaerys Velaryon did not fit into any of the previous options. It was your duty to be available to the prince of Dragonstone for what he wanted, and at the time, he needed a thoughtful listener.

"I don't want to fill my mother's head with my worries, even though I know she would listen. She is the queen and we are at war, it’s not time for this," was his justification.

The trust between you has developed slowly.

How are you feeling? Do you want to say something? Do you need anything?

It was the questions that guided the days following the incident with the wine. Over time, the prince began to report his dissatisfaction with the black council, either because of the way the queen didn’t let him act or how the other lords did not respect her enough.

"I just want to be useful for her cause, but she sees me as an incapable little boy," he shouted one of the times that the queen did not allow him to guard with Vermax.

"The queen cares about your safety, my prince. She suffers enough from the death of Prince Lucerys, she doesn't want to risk your life.”

“I'm not going to die!”

"You can't guarantee that, my prince."

And despite sometimes regretting not being formal enough in your answers, the prince showed satisfaction in the sincerity of your words more than once. Obviously no mention of your conversations with him was made for the other girls, you found it too dangerous.

And if there was anything beneficial for you, it was the opening that Rhaenyra Targaryen's heir gave so that your thoughts and feelings were also exposed. Superficial at first, experimental, but that became more intimate over the weeks.

"I try to keep myself constantly busy to ease my concerns about the war, but it's not working as I would like. Every night before bed I think about the worst,” you confessed a day after dinner, during the hour of the bat.

“Me too.”

The conversations became routine during breakfast while you cleaned his chambers and after dinner when you helped him sleep. Secretly, those were your favorite moments throughout the day, although you didn't want to admit it for a while.

The only problem with intimacy was to make you forget your place.

Sometimes, almost, an unweighted response was almost directed to the prince. Other times the physical comfort seemed to extrapolate while you smoothed his dark curls, although he did not manifest discomfort. He never did, actually. Maybe that influenced your behavior around him, especially when he began to reciprocate the attempt of comfort, touching your hand with nothing but respect and delicacy, although firm enough to be felt while you confessed your fears to him.

It was dangerous to allow such closeness to the prince.

You were no stranger to the stories of servants who fell in love with their lords, reciprocated or platonic, it was not something you sought to fantasize, promising yourself that you would immediately move away in the first different twinge in your heart. Although, dealing with feelings was not that simple.

That night, the prince was enthusiastic about the diplomatic experience with the Freys, telling every detail of the conversation accurately. He seemed quite proud to be useful, even the frown present in his feature in the last few days had disappeared.

“When I was a child, Viserys told me the Iron Throne would be mine one day,” Jace commented with a rare smile these days.

"He told?" You asked, knowing very well that it was true.

"A long time ago, before his health got worse, I think I was six years old," he replied on the other side of the table, keeping his smile open.

"Have you ever imagined yourself there?" A silly question, you thought.

“Sometimes, especially before war. Now I feel like I'm cheating on my mother,” his face hardened softly as he looked down.

"You are the heir of the Queen, it is not wrong to imagine your future," you tried to comfort him with the obviousness of the situation, although you understood what was going on in the prince's head and heart.

“I know, but just seems wrong,” he countered, looking at you. “How about you?”

“Me?”

"Have you never imagined yourself being the Queen?"

That made you chuckle. "There is a barrier that people like me should not overcome, even in thoughts," you almost laughing at him.

"Please, everyone has thought about sitting on the iron throne," he leaned totally against the chair, watching you with frowning eyebrows and a smile on his lips. as he totally leaned against the chair.

"I never thought such a absurd," you reinforced.

"I doubt it, have you never thought about being a noblewoman?"

"Of course I thought! I would be pleased to be the ugly daughter that no lord wants to marry, so I could enjoy my position without having only my side a decrepit old man as lord husband. But the Queen? I've never dared so much."

He laughed loudly and his eyes almost closed. "Well, I think it's a good plan, but I believe you would be a fine Queen."

That took you by surprise.

The absurdity of the statement made your eyes widen and your cheeks warm up. "And you will be a fine King," you replied with a giggle, doing little of what he had said - even you believed faithfully in your own statement.

Suddenly, you felt his gaze endure on yours in a different, more intense way, as if... he was seeing you, totally seeing you.

And that made your heart warm.

No, no!

“I must go, my prince. It's late,” you stood up immediately. "Do you need anything?"

He took a while to respond, shaking his head negatively. "N-no, I don't," getting up to accompany you to the door. "Listen, I- I have to say something to you."

Your heart was beating faster than usual and continuing in the presence of the prince did not improve the situation. You didn't know why you felt so suddenly affected, but you imagined that it was the ideal time to reassess the proximity to him.

“I would like to thank you for the support in these weeks, for listening to me,” he said.

"You don't have to thank me, my prince, it's my duty," you exhibited a restrained smile, holding your hands in front of your body.

“I know it's just-“

The previous look that made your heart warm returned, however, more nervous, afraid as he approached you. His hands held your face gently, not giving you time to move away before he leaned over to touch your lips. You froze in place, not being able to move a single member, even after the prince had moved away with terror in his eyes.

"I... I'm sorry, I didn't want to disrespect you, I promise," he said in despair, faster than he intended. "This is not going to happen again, I-

"It won't," you said, heart almost coming out of the chest, "We can't do that, Jace, I'm your servant- that-"

"It was my fault, I'm the one who has to beg for your forgiveness, I dishonored you," he almost spoke too loudly, almost.

"You didn't dishonor me!" You exclaimed as if it were obvious. "But that can't happen again. You are the heir to the iron throne and I am just a servant of low birth, there is no hope for us," your voice almost failed.

When Jace's eyes found the ground, his posture changed, the nervousness turned into something you didn't know how to identify, even though your own anguish was still very vivid while your heart beat fast.

"It's unfair," was all he said when he looked at you again.

“Indeed.”

A squeeze formed in your chest every second that your eyes remained connected, along with a restlessness that you did not know resided in your body until now. No, no, no...

In a bold attitude, you held his hands, uncertain of what to say, uncertain of what to do and uncertain of what you felt for him. It wasn't possible. Nothing, not a single word came out of your mouth while your heart beat faster and faster.

You shouldn't, you knew that, but maybe... maybe...

It was your turn to approach him, cautiously, absorbed in the brown of his iris and the way he mirrored your look.

There was no hurry to meet your lips this time, nor does it take long to be reciprocated. It was the kind of affection that women should have only with their lords husbands in the intimacy of their chambers, not with the prince of the kingdom whom you served and could harm yourself if you were caught.

But it seemed so right.

Your heart pumped soft fire through your body as the kiss gained layers, encouraging you to intertwine your fingers with his. It was not lascivious or obscene, but it involved your body during the act and made you float in the sweetness of his lips before it came to an end mutually.

Your hand slid to the side of his flushed face, smoothing his cheek gently. Even though part of your mind dealt with the turbulence of the situation, the other was delighted with the fullness of serenity.

"I've never been with a woman," he murmured about your touch, reluctantly. "I never wanted to ruin a woman outside of marriage."

Oh. That took you by surprise.

In fact, that brought you to reality again, but without the previous panic.

"You did it right," you comforted him with a restrained smile, feeling nervous. "There is no shame in that."

"I know, but I don't feel secure thinking about it."

Honestly, you didn't know what to say, but you knew that that situation could take a dangerous turn if it were prolonged. He could not consider such an act even for a second, so you just said goodbye to him immediately.

"It's late, you should rest, my prince."

The storm in his eyes almost snatched you together, but there was still prudence in your mind. There was no dispute on his part, allowing you to be involved by the coldness of the corridors until your rooms shared with the other servants. Although sleep wrapped around your body quickly, the prince stole your dreams with memories of what had happened.

When the nightingale time came, his image seemed almost palpable to your eyes. All you could remember were the lips of the princes against yours, the proximity, the softness of his hand, the way he looked at you.

It was dangerous.

All that was dangerous.

Especially for you. Nurturing an additional affection for the prince of the kingdom was a path of no return for ordinary people. There was no hope for you. There was no future between you. He would marry a lady of a important family and have little princes while you would perform your duty serving the next royal generations.

Even if you were willing to forget what happened, when you saw Jace that morning you knew that your relationship would never be the same.

"Good morning, my prince," was all you said when you entered his chambers.

Judging by the way the prince's gaze found yours, you believed he thought the same. “Good morning,” he replied in front of the window.

You left the breakfast on the table and went to organize the luxurious bed - unkneading the sheets and squeezing the pillows without looking at him while doing your work. Even though it was a rational attitude, the smell that emanated from the fabric transported you directly to last night, to the warmth of his lips, to the comfort of your hands and to the soft fire that warmed your veins.

Suddenly, you found yourself wanting more.

The subtle spark quickly turned into a fire, making you want to dive into bed and be surrounded by his smell, wanting to be kissed again in a sweet way, wanting his body pressed above your...

Wanting to make love to him.

Seven hells. No, it couldn't be.

The realization of the fact clouded your mind.

You felt nothing but the burning between your thighs, not even the repetitive call of your name by the prince. You wanted it, you wanted it, you wanted it.

You shouldn't, you shouldn't, you shouldn't.

In all these years you have performed your duty to the kingdom without any ambitions. Now, you believe you deserve enjoying a great pleasure and a great sin.

That's when the hand on your shoulder along with a call brought you back to reality.

"Are you okay?" The prince asked behind you.

There was nowhere to escape. And honestly, you didn't want to.

Taking him by surprise, you held both sides of his face and leaned over to capture his lips in a sweeping and demanding kiss, contrasting with the softness of the night before. Jace immediately corresponded, tying your waist and bringing your body closer to his. There was no fear in the way your lips moved or with the lack of distance between your bodies, on the contrary, you deepened the kiss and wrapped a hand behind his neck, breaking any space between you.

He reciprocated the vigor with the same intensity, savoring your lips as if they were the only thing that lacked him in life, almost pulling the air out of your lungs. You felt surrounded by the dragon fire and silently prayed to the Mother for your body to burn.

“I dreamed with you all night,” he whispered close to your lips, holding you close.

“Me too,” you slitted the apple from his cheek with your thumb. His lips were red, swollen, shiny and so tempting...

When you were about to lean again, knocks echoed from the door and made you jump back immediately, resuming your attention to the bed while the prince went to the breakfast table.

It was the Queen herself, talking to the prince of Dragonstone at the same time that you made a greeting to her.

“I wish to speak alone with prince Jacaerys.”

No other command was needed. With one last greeting, you left Jacaerys' chambers with a racing heart and trembling steps, as if walking on embers. The consequences of your actions would be disastrous if discovered, you were not foolish, but you couldn't help but want more. And can't you help but think about how that happened?

When did such a feeling arise and develop?

It was the questioning that guided your rest of the morning, the whole afternoon and the beginning of the evening. The duties kept him away from you, fueling concerns about a possible worsening for the queen's cause. Because of that, you decided to occupy yourself in the only way you knew: working.

You swept, cleaned, aired and washed until you were tired and coughing because of the dust.

At the end of the additional service, you went to the rooms shared with the other girls to clean yourself and be presentable to him, hoping to be able to see him during dinner.

It was insane, you knew that, but you couldn't help it. You wanted it, despite what it would imply.

And when thinking about what to enjoy with the prince would result, you realized something too serious to be ignored. What if you generated a bastard? Oh gods. Where were you with your head? How did you consider losing your maidenhead with a prince of the kingdom? It would be a scandal! You would be ruined! The queen would send you away, maybe to Essos at worst.

Nothing was effective to keep those thoughts away from your head, especially when you held his dinner with trembling hands. Everything got worse when he offered you a wide smile when entering his rooms, making you freeze briefly before walking to the table and greeting you with a reverence.

“Good evening, my prince,” you forced yourself to say.

“Good evening, my lady,” he replied humorously. "I missed you."

No, no, no.

You smiled insecure and looked down, unable to answer back.

“What's wrong?” He asked when he went to your meeting.

What should you say?

“I can't do that,” you chose to be brutally honest. "I can't get pregnant, I can't have a-" you couldn't say such a word, not in front of him, and you prayed that he wouldn't feel offended.

Unfortunately, his jaw closed and the posture hardened. Heavens.

"... a bastard?" He asked in a strangled voice. "I would never impute such a burden to you."

Your heart squeezed while remaining silent, too nervous to say anything. He seemed angry, creating a fear in your mind about the dragon's fury.

“And I would never dishonor you,” he added, holding your hands as his brown eyes warmed up. But that was Jacaerys, your prince and your friend who would never hurt you.

“I know,” you agreed with a nod and intertwined your fingers with his, being able to breathe relieved at last.

"Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm fine," you assured him with a soft smile.

"Eat with me, I don't have a big appetite."

You knew how to identify an order when you heard it. Of all the sins done and thought of in the last hours, sharing the meal with a prince was not so excruciating.

Sitting in front of him, you took a piece of bread and soaked it in the mushroom broth, watching him drink a generous sip of mead. None of you said anything for a while, leaving the noise of the violent sea wind that crashed against the walls of the castle being the only sound so far.

"What are we going to do?" He just asked.

"I don't know," you replied sincerely. "I think we should go back our dynamics, we can't be more than we are," your voice was lower than usual.

“I like being with you,” he said.

“Me too, Jace, but there's no hope for us,” you held his hand. "This will only break our hearts."

Although painful, that was the only truth that existed. He would never be yours. He would never abandon his duty to the kingdom for you, the opposite was just daydreams and songs invented to make ordinary life less gray. You were and would continue to be a servant and Jacaerys Velaryon would be just a sweet memory of something that could never happen.

Because that was just the order of things.

——————————————————————————

taglist: @hxtd @fkanitta @ladyofvelaryon @llynx7 @briarrainsstuff @jhepolie @dani-says-stuff @vavafaure1994 @fallenangel161 @naive-daydreamer @uhnanix @yrcbhu5wdv

a note: I know it take a while, but I really put all my efforts in here!

[drdemonprince]

I met a Bondage Side on Grindr and had a couple lovely times with him so far. Bondage Side as in he does not have penetrative sex of any kind, and doesn't really like oral -- he just wants to find cute boys to tie up, handcuff, and maybe prod with hitachis and tickle. we have a great time every time we have met up so far -- five hour stints of being hogtied and fumbling around on the floor trying to escape while he tortures me and feeds me edibles he baked.

When he contacted me, I had just decided to make it explicit on my Grindr account that I am not interested in vanilla -- after many years of doubting myself and pushing myself to try having sex with all kinds of people and being sorely disappointed and squicked out nearly all the time if there wasn't some power dynamic or intense kink at play. Meeting him was exactly the assurance that I needed. "No Vanilla" is allowed to be a limit. and by limiting myself to only what I am actually interested in, I get to find great, compatible partners like him and enjoy myself.

Sexual acts don't exist on some single spectrum from "standard" to "extreme," and I am not obligated to assent to any supposedly milder-seeming sex act simply because I am interested in more crazy kinds of sex. It was so foolish of me to believe that was the case.

I guess I still felt bad that what I wanted might be too strange for people or too disturbing, and kinda thought that if I ever wanted the neck corsets and rope and handcuffs that I would have to make some sacrifice and accept mid eye-contact-heavy sex and cunnilingus first.

But there are people who just like the neck corsets and ropes and handcuffs. I don't even have to pair that stuff with sex if I don't want to. I really thought that I would have to. Even so many of the ostensibly kinky people that I have met really only treat bondage, say, as a prelude to the main event of penetration. All of what I consider to be the actual fun stuff is just set dressing for them that they barely care about once the fucking starts.

You can feel a bit cheated and lied to after a certain point with people who only nominally pretend they are interested in kink as a way to access sex, or who say theyre sooo freaky but then reveal their crazy "fetish" is like, threesomes or cum. It can make you feel like you're too rare to live if you're a real deep freak, that you've gotta settle for what you can get.

But it turns out the moment I was more unflinching about exactly what I wanted and didnt pressure myself to "keep an open mind" to things I didn't want as some kind of transactional offering, I immediately met like three different super hot kinky people I could have great bondage and D/s play with in like, a week.

I can just be a D/s and bondage and hypno play side. I can be choking from a chain in a leather hood and a gag in a basement and beg to be beaten and scarred and turned into someones live-in dog and I don't have to want sex. "No vanilla" can be a limit. I'm not crazy for finding vanilla disturbing. There are guys out there who complement me, who want to do nothing but put chains around my neck and ankles and zap me with electricity and rub their dick a little bit while I endure it but never expect or pressure me for more.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Unrequited.

Pairings: Arlecchino x Reader x Furina (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.1k.

TW: Reader Doesn't Have A Gender But Everyone Here Is A Melodramatic Lesbian. Live Dove: Tender and Sweet.

[Part Two]

Arlecchino has never struggled to find her way to you.

She would have, if she needed to. That was something she prided herself on: her perseverance when it came to all things, her determination when it came to her pursuits – romantic or otherwise. When she was in Snezhnaya, she dreamed each night of crossing oceans and climbing mountains and tearing apart the Tsaritsa and all of her many soldiers with her own monstrous hands if only to win the chance of finding her way back to your side, and when she was in Fontaine, there was nothing – not her duties as a Harbinger, not the fate of her nation, and only very rarely her beloved children – that could keep her away from you. Fortunately (more so for the rest of Teyvat than for her), she never had to go through so much effort.

No matter how distant she might’ve been, you were always exactly where she'd left you: at the right hand of Lady Furina, Protector and God of Fontaine, or as Arlecchino had come to think of her, the only person you would ever cross oceans to be with.

Also, coincidentally, the only person thick-skulled enough not to pay you a second glance.

She found you watching your dearly beloved from your usually crow’s nest; a balcony that overlooked the rest of the venue, your eyes cast downward towards the ballroom and a sickeningly tender smile painted across your lips. As Arlecchino neared you, she could see what you were so transfixed by and weather the wave of nausea that accompanied the sight of Lady Furina holding court with a handful of Fontaine’s elite, her hands moving excitedly as she recited some practiced monologue Arlecchino could only be thankful she was too far to hear. An exasperated sigh escaped her lips as she came to stand beside you, extending a flute of champagne which you gladly accepted. She had invited you back to her manor when she first discovered your fondness for such fine things, practically begged you to sample the finest wines and bourbons in her vast collection, but you only shook your had and told her that Furina would need your held reviewing case files for her next trial, grinning like an idiot all the while. If she hadn’t been so endeared by your smile, she might’ve hated you for how thoughtlessly you dismissed her.

“The orchestra is half-way decent, tonight.” She rested a hand on the crook of your arm, let her head lilt to the side. “Care to join me for a dance?”

Your love-struck smile widened. “No, thank you. I’m saving my first for her.” A quick nod towards Furina, one of her boots now propped on a chair provided by one of her audience members. “She’s been working on her waltz, lately – she only stepped on my feet twice while we were practicing this afternoon.”

You said it as if Furina had plucked the moon from the sky and gifted it to you on a silver chain. Arlecchino couldn’t help but scoff. “I have no idea what you see in her. She would starve to death if you weren’t there to remind her to eat.” You sighed wistfully and she took a generous sip from her own drink before going on. “She’s a poor excuse for an entertainer, let alone an archon. If it wasn’t for that judge of hers, she’d have a revolution on her hands in a matter of hours.”  

“You’re only saying that because you don’t know her. She might not have Monsieur Neuvillette’s resolution, but she’s not trying to be Monsieur Neuvillette.” For the first time since the start of your conversation, you looked towards Arlecchino and she could’ve sworn the rest of the ballroom ceased to exist. If she’d been a weaker woman, she would’ve fallen to one knee and presented the ring she kept in her breast pocket when she knew she would see you, would’ve drawn her sword and pleaded with you to drive it through her heart, but your attention turned back to your archon and the temptation faded back into more of a wishful fancy than a possible reality. “She’s wonderful, and brilliant, and she makes me laugh. Whenever I picture myself happy, I picture myself with her. I love her.” She’d heard you say it a thousand times before, and yet, her heart seemed to break in an entirely new way every time those words – coated in such a saccharine affection – trickled off of your tongue. She was glad she was not a weaker woman, upon further thought; if she was, you would’ve done her in months ago. “She’s everything to me.”

She couldn’t help herself. As delicate as she tried to be with you, there would always be a part of her that couldn’t help but twist the knife. “Doesn’t it hurt?” And then, when you hummed for clarification, “Loving someone so incapable of loving you back?”

You let out a breath of a laugh, the noise like windchimes and wedding bells. “I don’t know, Lord Arlecchino.” You glanced over your shoulder. “Does it?”

Ah, there it was.

Despite everything, she’d fallen for a sadist after all.

She let the corner of her mouth curl upward. “More than I could ever say.”

This time, your laugh was more throaty, more full-hearted. “What a sorry sight we must make, too pining romantics mourning lost love at a party.” Your tone dipped into something more genuine, albeit still playful. “My first dance is taken, but would it be too much of an insult to offer you my second?”

She moved to speak, to tell you that you could dig your heel into her foot and spit in her face and she would still be able to thank you sincerely for sparing her so much of your attention, but a melodical voice called your name and instantly, you were stolen away by a head of white hair and two mismatched eyes emerging at the top of the nearest staircase, still glowing with the zeal of a performer post-applause. Furina latched onto you with all she was worth; arms wrapping around your own as she pressed herself into your side. “Evidently, you have forgotten your duties to your goddess,” Furina started properly, her little speech already rehearsed to perfection. “Must I remind you that I am always to be the center of your attention?”

“Never, my lady.” And, in an instant, Arlecchino was gone to you, nothing more than a momentary distraction you would not be returning to for as long as Furina held you in her spotlight. “In fact, I believe you still owe me a dance.”

The reminder was unnecessary. Furina was already pulling you back down to the ballroom floor, already spouting off something about how cruel it would be of her to deny such an earnest request from her most faithful servant, about how foolish you are for believing her memory would be so fallible as to forget even the most trivial of promises. With a ragged breath, Arlecchino took up your post, watching dutifully as you were pulled into (what could be called by the most generous of onlookers) a terribly mangled waltz. It was proof of Furina’s fortune that she’d found the only person in Teyvat with the fortitude and patience to be so hopelessly in love with her.

It was proof to your fortune that, even when faced with the wrath of gods, Arlecchino was not one to give up so easily.

[huskersbooze]

Helloo! Can i Request an alastor x reader angst? (I love angst im sorry😭) where reader n alastor are good friends, but soon alastor starts catching feelings, he didn’t like that so he starts ignoring reader hoping it’ll go away, but when alastor realizes it doesn’t, he wanted to apologize for ignoring reader and maybe confessing, but he couldn’t cause he found out reader got redeemed into heaven? Please and thank you!!

A/N : Oh fuck yes I'm a sucker for angst. This is actually a really interesting concept! Completely opposite to my other fic where Reader ignores Al. Thank you for the ask <3

Alastor Doesn't Do Feelings

Alastor x Reader

Pairing : Alastor x F!Reader (M!Reader here, Gn!Reader here)

Warnings : Cusing(what do you expect? It's Hazbin Hotel)

Additional Tags : Angst, no use of (Y/n), use of dear/darling

Word count : 1.25k

It was never supposed to turn out this way. Alastor, the fucking Radio Demon, doesn't do feelings.

But here he was, finding himself getting flustered, his cheeks red, ears pinned back and his smile faltering.

And it was all because of you.

"-and so I told him to back the heck away, but I swear his brain can't seem to comprehend simple words! He-"

You went on and on about your day, but Alastor could only focus on the close proximity between the two of you and your hand came so close to brushing his every minute or so.

"Alastor! Freaking hell!" He snapped out of his trance when he heard you yell his name.

He cleared his throat, quickly gathering himself once more, "Yes, darling?"

"Were you even listening to me?"

"Of course, I was." Which, frankly, was a lie.

"Just go to bed, dipshit."

"I don't need sleep."

"Your brain is hijacked, Al." You try to give his ears a scratch. Alastor attempts a dodge but fails. "See? You can't even dodge a simple pet on the head."

"I let you do that."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Darling, you know I don't sleep."

"It was an expression, babe."

He knew you meant it as a joke, a light-humoured name you called him; like how he called you "dear" or "darling".

But he couldn't help the blush that found a way to his face.

"Alastor! You're doing it again!"

"I beg your pardon?" He snaps out from his trance.

"You're dozing off again. Are your radio parts radio-ing properly?"

"I'm not an actual radio, my dear."

"Well, you sure act like a broken down machine." You let out a giggle, him doing the same, but it ultimately sounded like he was buffering.

"You need help." You get up and give him another ruffle behind the ears, catching him off guard. "G'night, Al."

He doesn't respond.

He's too busy screaming internally.

-----

Alastor doesn't do feelings. Yet, here he was a broken mess because of you.

No, this was unacceptable. All he'd work for. His reputation. The danger it'd put you in.

He couldn't afford any of that gone — especially not you.

How was he to get rid of this weird churning he gets in his stomach when you near, though? How was he to stop loving you?

-----

Alastor doesn’t do feelings. He nearly did, once, because of you. But he’d found a way to stop it.

Or so, he thought.

“Good morning, Al.”

Out of everyone in the hotel, you were the one person he could tolerate. Despite your polar interests and behaviour, Alastor actually found it quite enjoyable to be by your side.

Sure, you rarely cursed, was so sweet and couldn’t bare the thought of killing, but Alastor never minded. You were the one person he looked forward to seeing everyday. He would usually only talk to you.

“Husker, may I have a word?” Yet, here Alastor was, completely ignoring your existence like you were some irrelevant imp a few rings down.

“Uh, sure, boss.” Husk sends you a questioning stare as you return the favour.

He didn’t actually have anything to say to him; it just hurt to see you. The feelings still lingered and he couldn’t do jackshit about it. 

Staying away from you was only supposed to get rid of his feelings, not intensify them.

“Alastor?” Yet, your voice captivated him in every way possible and his desire to be yours increased.

He simply left the room, and the two of you never spoke after that.

-----

“Alastor doesn’t do feelings, honey.”

“I know, Rosie! But we’re just friends and he knows that.” You take a sip from the tea Rosie prepared for you. “Though, lately, he’s been completely disregarding my presence like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Don’t look too much into it! I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s just Alastor being Alastor.”

“But it’s not.” You sigh. “Something’s changed between us and I’m not sure what it is.”

“Well, did anything specific happen?”

“I.. I don’t know.” Your voice cracks at the agony. “I just.. Everything was fine that night. I just told him to sleep and the next morning it’s like I never existed.”

“Hm. That does sound odd.”

“Exactly! And I’m not sure what to do or if- if I’ve angered him- or- or maybe he’s sick of me-”

“Honey, breathe.” Rosie’s hand finds yours across the table as she rubs soothing circles on the back of your palm. “It’s in his nature to be sending mixed signals. Just give him time. He’ll come to terms with you eventually.”

“Are.. Are you sure?”

“You came to me for a reason.” She jokes, though her warm smile never left her face.

“Thank you, Rosie.”

-----

Alastor, your beloved strawberry pimp, doesn’t do feelings. He didn’t, he doesn’t and he won’t.

At least, that was before he realised he was catching feelings for you.

He’s tried so hard to ignore it. He’s done everything he could to ignore you, but despite his best efforts, you still found a way to float straight back into his mind.

“Alastor?”

“Yes, darling?” It took him a while to comprehend the fact he accidentally called Husk “darling”. His mind was just filled with thoughts of you.

“Uh.. anyways.” Husk cleared his throat. “You were close with the kid, right?”

“I suppose.” He shrugs, saying it as a matter of fact-ly. “Nothing serious.”

Alastor nearly flinched as he said it himself. 

Nothing serious.

But in fact, it was starting to get serious. He was in love with you, head-over-heels obsessed, but he couldn’t come to terms with the fact and decided to push you away.

Fuck. What was he thinking?

“Yes, well I just.. wanted to let ya’ know she’s-”

“In a minute, Husker.” He says, taking off and trying to find you. He had to apologize. He had to talk to you and explain himself. But then, that would mean he had to confess.

Confess. Alastor’s smile widened as he thought of the idea. Blush crept from his face all the way down to his neck and his tail was uncontrollably wagging under his coat.

He loved you.

Turns out, Alastor does, and will do feelings.

-----

“Husker, have you seen her?” After a whole day of looking around the hotel, he couldn’t seem to find you anywhere. 

“Her?” He asks, then immediately realising there could only be one her. “I was trying to tell you, boss. The kid.. The kid passed.”

“What?” His smile falters, eyes twitching, but still keeping his composure.

“Some drunk ass dude got hold of an angelic weapon from the last extermination. She was stabbed on her way back from cannibal town.”

The static in his ears were ringing louder by the second. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No, it wasn’t supposed to end like this. He was only supposed to get rid of his feelings, not you.

This whole plan backfired. It was a mistake. He kept what he hadn’t wanted, and lost what he desired.

-----

Alastor doesn’t do feelings.

He does, but only for you. He keeps his heart closed in hopes you’re still somewhere out there.

Any other demon who tries to get with him, ultimately gets turned down.

Alastor doesn’t do feelings, no; but he does feelings. He saves the romantic kind for you. The platonic ones, however, are open doors now because of you.

Alastor didn’t do feelings, but he does now — in hopes he gets redeemed and can find you in heaven.

———[ End. ]———

[wishful-thinking64]

Hazbin Hotel & Helluva Boss Rewrite Ideas #01

I truly believe that both shows have a lot of untapped potential that we'll unfortunately never get to see thanks to Viv refusing to take criticism and the fact that her writers are all yes men. However, that doesn't mean I can't give out rewrite ideas like they're candy to those who wish to tap into either show's said potential. With that being said, here are some rewrite ideas that you could use for Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss! ______ #01.) Have Mrs. Mayberry become one of the residents of the Hazbin Hotel. I promise you, this one writes itself. #02.) Have Glitz & Glam be Fizz's rival co-workers to parallel his time in the circus when he worked with the Buckzo twins who acted more like a family to him. #03.) Write some new workers for the Hazbin Hotel since they're still severely understaffed. You could make these new employees a Hellborn, a Sinner, an Overlord, or Goetia royalty if you wanted too. The possibilities for this one are endless! #04.) Let Heaven contrast with Hell based on how they operate. For example, in my rewrite for the Hellaverse, Heaven doesn't use currency at all. It quite literally doesn't exist up there. Instead, they use the Bartering System as they view it to be the most fair exchange of goods and services. #05.) Have there be a character who doesn't belong in Hell but got sent there anyway for whatever reason. I'd recommend using Valoris (my take on renaming Vaggie) if you don't mind keeping her as a fallen angel or using her original Sinner backstory however I feel like Amélie (I renamed Emily solely because her name is so common. It's not bad but you can tell that there was barely any thought put into it either.) could work just as well since she'd be a fallen Seraph. #06.) Make Lucifer and Stolas evil as they were originally intended to be before Viv scrapped the idea in favor of something worse. Stolitz is a toxic ship no matter how much damage control and retconning Helluva Boss tries to do and when initially asked about how Lucifer would act later in the series on an old livestream, Viv originally wanted to have his character be on par with that of Willy Wonka so do with that information what you will. #07.) Allow for Charlie's, "Anyone can be redeemed," mentality to constantly be challenged by those around her. Don't be afraid to have her be in the wrong because we all know that not everyone can be redeemed. Some people (Valentino) truly aren't deserving of it and others won't be accepting to change. You can lead a horse to water all you want but the horse has to decide to drink it. #08.) Create a proper foil ship for Fallen Star (I hate using the ship name Chaggie) cause if even Stolitz can have one in the form of Fizzmodeus then Fallen Star should have one too. Most people opt to use Emilute but I'm a damn GuitarSpear shipper so I opted for a crossover ship that has Emily and another character from Helluva Boss instead. Listen, if a rare pair and joke ship like CherriSnake can become canon over a ship like Sir Pentious x Rosie that actually makes sense when you consider they're from similar time periods, then a crossover ship being in my AU rewrite is the least of my problems.

For context, here's a screenshot for one of the HH mockup episodes before Viv and her team decided to scrap it. Like the majority of the HH mockup episodes. ______ Well, that's all I've got for now so happy writing and good luck!

[scarletttries]

Roronoa Zoro Falling In Love Headcanons (One Piece)

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro (Live Action One Piece) x Reader

Rating: Fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Author's Note: After lacking a bit of inspiration recently I just finished watching the live action One PIece on Netflix and am completely obsessed, especially with Zoro! So here a few little headcanons for him, and I might do a part two of relationship headcanons too. Also requests are now open for any of the one piece characters so send them in! 💗☺️

- Oh Zoro. Truly the epitome of a heart of gold hiding behind a sarcastic, borderline cold, facade. A man who pretends to be affected by nothing, despite having so much space inside him for friendship and devotion.

- Chances are he'd first come across you when he and Luffy are docked in another new town. Maybe you're a pirate whose name he's heard in passing and considers trying to capture for the bounty. Maybe you're someone who just loves and helps out the small seaside village you live in, trying to make a few Berry from the ships passing through. Maybe you're the next key step to reaching Monkey's dream of finding the piece. Whatever he expects to find when your paths cross, it certainly isn't you.

- Before he even knows you're the person he's looking for, one look at you and he knows you're important. Like you exist in a slightly brighter light than everyone else he's ever met before, and he's not sure if he should shield his eyes or if he can't bear to look away. He stops dead in his tracks at the sight of you, the first glimpse enough to have his heart pounding in his chest like it never has before. Luffy watches his usually stern friend let his mouth fall open in silence, baffled by his actions until Nami leans over and whispers to him. Zoro can't hear exactly what she says but he hears the word 'crush' and feels his stomach churn at the thought. He wants to run, but he's unsure whether he wants to go towards or away from you. He grips his white katana as a panicked instinct when finally you glance up and send a friendly smile to the eclectic group of pirates standing, staring at you.

- Luffy can tell before you ever say a word that you're good and kind, and destined to be aboard the Merry as a part of his crew. Zoro can't bring himself to do anything but loom over his captain as he makes a sales pitch. The part of his brain that likes to be in control hopes that you're busy and tied down, that you'll reject Luffy's offer and he'll never feel as shaken and desperate as he does in this moment again. A much bigger part of him knows that he won't survive if you say 'no'. Like without you he might never dream again, doomed to spend the rest of his days sailing aimlessly, searching for the same rush he feels every time you look up at him over his friends straw hat. Thankfully Monkey rarely asks someone to join his crew that he isn't certain will eventually say yes. And so you do, accepting it's time to try a new path and join this strange group of good-hearted sailors, hoping for a new shot at your dreams.

- Monkey, Sanji and Usopp are all friendly from the get-go. They can't wait to share stories of their journey so far, and make sure you feel as safe and at home on the ship as they do. Nami takes a bit longer to open up to you, but when she does you can understand why, and while her friendship is harder to earn, it feels all the more solid for it. And then there's Zoro.

- You notice that whenever you all walk into a room, he'll always take the position or chair next to you, awkwardly stepping in front of Sanji on more than one occasion, or forcing himself into a tight spot rather than create distance between the two of you. He doesn't often strike up conversation first, but when you ask him something about himself he always looks very relieved and happy to have something to talk to you about. If the group has to split up he'll always stick by your side, taking the role of keeping you safe to heart. Your unspoken bodyguard. It gets to the point that the crew adjust to leaving a spot next to you for him to settle into, and never asking him to go out without you. All the while Nami takes great joy in speculating on his behaviour with you, and teasing Zoro for his complete inability to act like a normal human being. Sanji has to lay off his harmless flirting with you after he notices the daggers Zoro's shooting at him, and he's sure one night at a bar he heard him start to draw his sword when he put a hand on your leg.

- It doesn't take many conversations with Zoro, or many chats with Luffy who spends a lot of his time telling you about how wonderful and impressive Zoro is, for you to start finding his strange behavior more than a little flattering. The tall, talented swordsman can't help but soften under your gaze, and you feel yourself slowly leaning closer to him every time he settles at your side, before long finding yourself practically draped against him when the group find themselves at some gaudy bar on the outskirts of a marine base, failing to keep a low profile. Usopp insists on dragging you onto the dancefloor, and thankfully Nami asks Zoro to come dance with her before he has to either sit without you, or volunteer to dance of his own volition. Despite his athleticism, of course he's a terrible dancer, all uncoordinated movements and awkward energy as he fails to copy Usopp's charismatic moves. Taking pity on him, you take his hand in yours, letting him hold you closer as the rest of the group seem to fade in the crowd behind you having seen more than enough of his desperate longing to stick around for this. As Sanji and Usopp slink off to find another drink, Nami and Luffy can't resist keeping just in view so they can watch on as they finally see Zoro smile widely and let his guard down, relaxing against you as the pair of you sway. Nami wants to make a bet on if Zoro finally gets the nerve to say something about his feelings, but after a few months of being her closest friend she decides to just root for you both instead, trying to pull Luffy just far enough away to give you two some much needed privacy.

- As you feel his arms encircle you, a soft sway in his hips that matches yours, his mouth drops open and closed a few times over. It's always hard for him to find the right thing to say to you, but when he has you this close, with your eyes sparkling up at him, it's almost impossible to even think. It's all consuming living on the same ship, his heart jumping in his chest every time someone enters his cabin in case it's you, his feet taking him to stand outside your quarters almost every day just willing himself to knock on the door and finally put words to his devoted actions. He couldn't fight his longing to be near you for even a day, and watching you open up to him and start to inch closer yourself, he can't help but hope that you might be feeling just a drop of the ocean of affection he navigates for you. His eyes focus intensely on yours as he tries again to speak, stumbling over the word 'I' a few times before resigning himself to silence for another night.

- You could see the conflict of fear and hope in his eyes, the man of few words clearly straining to explain things his training had never left room for. He was trying, and you were sure you knew what he was going to say, but you didn't think you could be the one to articulate it for him. That didn't mean you couldn't give him a bit of encouragement.

- Trailing your hands over his arms to settle on his shoulders, you stepped flush with his body, the extra contact enough to stop his gentle sway and turn his whole frame rigid. With the softest smile you could muster you leaned up onto your tiptoes, giving him a moment to pull away before letting your lips press softly to his. It was just for a second. A mere moment of soft, sweet, contact. The kind Zoro had never even let himself imagine because it felt so far out of reach for him. But it happened, and it was perfect. A wide grin spread over his face at your action, finally feeling like he might be able to share his life with someone other than the ghost he carried with him on his hip.

"WAHHOOOOOO!YES YES YES!"" A deafening cheer echoed through the bar, shaking the light fixtures and turning every single head towards your ecstatic captain. Nami looked mortified as Luffy continued to punch the air in celebration of his first mate finally achieving a dream a little less violent than he'd first set out for, his joy for his friend all consuming and without an ounce of tact.

"Luffy! Stop it! We'll leave you to it." Nami had to physically drag him away as you heard the unfamiliar sound of Zoro laughing to himself, the grin across his cheeks only spreading as his focus returned to you. Leaning back in to find your lips again, he whispered,

"What Luffy said."

[yanderes-galore]

Romantic Nanami(JJK) concept?

I can try, sure! Hope you enjoy him :) I had trouble writing his character as I guess I didn't connect with him as much as others? But I still enjoy him.

Yandere! Kento Nanami Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective/Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Stalking, Degrading behavior, Isolation, Childish punishment, Forced relationship.

Nanami doesn't seem like the type of person who easily gets attached to people.

He's learned that's a poor choice since he was young.

In fact, his youth was stolen from him due to his role as a sorcerer.

He's reserved and often not emotional/sentimental.

He's blunt and doesn't mince words.

So I imagine manipulation with him is the same, no flowery language or words to soften the blow.

He'd just be blunt and state you need him or something similar.

He'd be strict and serious, not expressing much weakness or emotion.

He's hard to read and can be an intimidating yandere.

Which would make Nanami another yandere who's unpredictable in this universe.

Except for him... it's because he rarely shows emotion or what he's thinking at all.

He's not necessarily possessive in my eyes... but he's certainly protective and I wouldn't doubt it if he was isolating too.

Nanami would believe all he does for you is for your own good.

So every person he scares off, every curse he gets rid of, every lock he places on your gilded cage by his side...

All to keep you safe... and hopefully happy.

He's quick to irritate which doesn't help with his strict behavior.

He seems like the type of yandere to scold his darling like a child, even when they're in a relationship.

You could be a sorcerer just like him... and he treats you like you'll die without him.

In a way, you can excuse this as him being scared to lose you like he's lost so many others.

But he still shouldn't do this... part of him knows that.

If you weren't a sorcerer then he tries his hardest to shield you from such a life.

If you were, it's like he wants you to quit.

Nanami would always watch you like a stern hawk.

As though you'll get hurt if he doesn't.

Sometimes he's sociable but often he prefers to just stay... reserved.

You are one of the only ones he really bothers to talk to that doesn't seem forced.

He's fond of you, really is, but is obviously not the most sentimental person.

Even as a partner he seems to act suffocating.

It's like a parent watching a child sometimes.

You can tell him off about this, complain he doesn't give you enough credit.

You can try to convince him you can take care of yourself.

But he just... refuses to believe it.

Nanami's affection is often silent.

Things like quiet (yet tight) hugs along with kisses.

While Nanami can be condescending, he's loving in his own way.

He seems like the type to want his spouse to be a house spouse.

Big house with security, you staying home all the time, it would soothe a lot of his stresses...

Plus, coming home to you would make him feel a lot better.

He likes the idea of a traditional life.

Maybe no kids, but you at home, and him coming to spoil you when he's home.

Would Nanami kidnap? Not really.

I feel it's a bit too out of character for him and his yandere type.

He's a yandere who lurks in the background of your life primarily before eventually confronting you.

He'd use manipulation but it's often taken as concern or orders.

For example, if he asks you to stay around him due to the Curse activity in the area, you'd most likely listen as you trust him.

Even more so when he becomes your boyfriend.

You may even understand his concern and not register it as toxic.

In a world where Curses exist around every corner, you understand when Nanami expresses concern.

Although, it can quickly start getting toxic when he removes your independence... "to keep you safe."

He does this by offering you to move into his home or convincing you to quit your job.

Would Nanami get jealous? He isn't very... open about it.

Like most emotions he tends to not show it.

It would be very subtle cues like clenching a fist or gripping a table.

He doesn't trust many around you but tolerates it.

Only because he knows you're his when you get home.

While he's mostly overprotective, a subtle feeling of possessiveness is hinted at in his actions.

Things like tight holds or rough kisses when you're alone show that in him.

Nanami doesn't entirely tolerate you fighting with him.

Arguments occur at times, especially when Nanami tries to coax you into giving up your independence.

He thinks you're being childish at times when in reality he's the one being paranoid.

Nanami may also punish you like a child, which just makes things more degrading.

Stupid things like, you sit in your room kinda thing (or spanking I guess).

Nanami no doubt means well... in his eyes.

But he takes it too far, unfortunately.

Would Nanami murder rivals? No.

He knows he's insane for being a Sorcerer (and keeping you in your shared home) but he draws the line at... petty murder.

The most he does is keep you at your shared home and away from people.

He feels that's where you're safest... and it reassures him you're his.

He shows his appreciation through affection... maybe even gifts.

He does seem like he'd buy you gifts, be that clothes or items he thinks you'll like.

Holding you close is comfort to him, his stresses melting easily in your presence.

His biggest issue is he's just overprotective... right?

It's not like he isolates you to keep you to himself, right?

He's... He's just concerned, right?

Giving you gifts and affection isn't to distract you, is it?

Nanami just wants you safe from potential danger because he cares...

He'd never isolate you for any other reason... right?

[sugarlywhispers]

You see him at a distance. Sitting in a comfy chair by the window, watching the sunset in silence.

It will do him good to see you, that's what Izuku had said. But he forgot to mention how it was going to do you no good.

Bakugou Katsuki looks so in peace right at this moment, you're not sure you want to get closer. You're not sure you want to disrupt that peacefulness. It's so rare to see him so relax, so quiet, you don't want to cause him any trouble. Even if it breaks your heart.

He's been asking for you... sometimes, that's what Izuku had said. He sometimes remembers you. But that sometimes makes you wish he wouldn't at all.

You take one, two, three steps closer, and he turns his head because he heard you, his Hero reflexes as sharp as ever. His eyes, ruby eyes that had always held an intensity that made your knees weak for him, look at you up and down. His eyebrows frown and ah, this is not a good day.

"Who the fuck are you and who let you in?" He barks, and your heart breaks.

You look down at your hands, you don't really want him to see how much his words hurt you. You don't want him to see how much you need him back. You don't want him to see how desperate you're for him to remember you.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I got the wrong room," your voice trembles, you're sure he notices, but you don't look back up at him as you turn over your heels and walk back to the door. You don't run, but fuck, you want to get out of there as fast as you can.

Your hand grabs the doorknob as he suddenly gasps, "Y/N?"

You freeze as everything around you. He said your name. Bakugou Katsuki, the love of your life, after two years, says your name once again. You're afraid to turn around. Afraid the it's just your fucking mind playing with you and your feelings. Afraid that when you look at him, there's only going to be a stare that shows how the love of your life doesn't even know who the fuck you are. Still, you turn around. Because, hell, your heart can't be broken anymore when it's barely there, when it only functions because you're alive but you don't live. You can't live without him. You're just surviving.

"Y/N..." He gasps once again and this time you find the courage to look at him.

He's standing, hands closed in fists but you can clearly see hes trying to hold back their trembling, his eyes are filled with unshed tears that he's holding back. And he looks broken. Just like you.

Your tears are rolling down your cheeks as you look at him. There's recognition in his eyes. He knows who you are, and that hurts even more than when he doesn't.

You close your eyes and can't avoid the sob that leaves your mouth when a pair of familiar arms surround you. His smell is the same, sweet like apples and vanilla, but strong like sandalwood and sparks. All him.

"Shh, it's okay... I'm here," he cries, kissing your head as your hands grab his hospital shirt.

"For now," you cry and he holds you tighter.

Because he knows and you know that it won't last long. It never lasts long. He's here for a minute...and then he's gone for days.

"FUCK," he swears crying, before backing away enough to just hold your face in his hands, so you look at him in the eyes. "I'm not fucking giving up, I'm fucking fighting it... I will fight it til I fucking win, you hear me?"

His forehead presses against yours, tears flowing like an unstoppable cascade. You sometimes wonder if cascades aren't just that, nature crying, sobbing a torrent of desperate pleas.

Because fuck you feel like one. An immense torrent of pleas to whatever exists up there to give you back your husband.

"I know you are..." You smile at him, your hands now traveling up towards his face and caressing his cheeks as sweetly as you're able, making him close his eyes and enjoy your touch, "And I'm always going to be here waiting for you."

And that's a promise.

Doesn't matter how long it takes, you'll wait for him. You'll wait until the day he finally heals and comes back to you.