#but I included some on my own that were a mix of ‘I can’t believe someone didn’t nominate this I have to do everything myself’

[dykehayleywilliams]

the funniest thing about the semifinal poll that’s big weekend 2013 v. paramore is a band is that both of those are my own personal nominations. another classic example of playing myself 🤡

[hiraiologist]

i don't know why i like you (but i do)

minatozaki sana x f!reader

8.7k words

synopsis: maybe there’s a reason they tell you not to mix business with pleasure. but with a coworker like minatozaki sana, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

tags/warnings: set very loosely in tdoong ent universe/office setting, smut (cunnilingus, fingering, begging, restraints), fluff, super super mild angst like its so brief it barely counts as angst, miscommunication, not actually unrequited feelings, lowkey switch!sana, coworkers with benefits to friends with benefits to lovers

a/n: i’ve been rewatching TTT quite a bit and tdoong ent office worker sana is too cute. i combined her character here with sha rich bc i'm a sucker for her ngl like okayyy shes serving high femme realness….. anyway this is not my best & i lowkey hate it SAWRY but i just wanted write Anything to get myself back into the groove again :p i'm trying to find motivation to finish some other works too!! next up is gonna be either a short halloween thing for momo (if i finish it in time) orrr what ive been working on for tzuyu ^-^  title from i don’t know why i like you but i do by the wombats.

you don’t know your newest coworker, minatozaki sana—not really. but there are a few things about her that you’ve started to learn.

for one, she is one of the loudest people in the entire office. it doesn’t bother you—after all, your close circle of friends includes plenty of other loud people from the office, like nayeon and jihyo and momo—and it normally wouldn’t even cross your radar. and yet, every time you hear sana’s high pitched giggle from across the room, you can’t help but lift your head from behind your computer. 

another thing you’ve learned is that she is, to put it plainly, a brat. the second she showed up at the office bragging about how her father owns the company, always reminding you that it’s her family name controlling your future, you knew this about her. she’s spoiled, privileged, pretentious, condescending, lazy, richer than anyone should be allowed to be—

nearly a month after sana’s first day, you’d grumpily proclaimed to some of your coworkers that sana was the most irritating person you’d ever met in your life.

chaeyoung told you that you were being unreasonable and you should just talk to sana. tzuyu told you that you were being insufferable and you needed to get laid.

naturally, you’d decided to kill two birds with one stone.

two months after sana joined the company—her father’s company, as she always reminds everyone—you found yourself in her massive apartment, her pink lips hot and wet against your throat as her hands fumbled with your top. “this is pretty,” she’d said when she greeted you at the door, fingers playing with the fabric.

not ten minutes later, that same top was thrown carelessly on her bedroom floor, followed immediately by sana’s prada skirt.

which brings you to now, in sana’s enormous bedroom, where there is a third thing you’ve learned about minatozaki sana: she’s the most attractive person you’ve ever seen.

maybe you already knew that.

but you don’t have time to think about anything beyond that before plush lips brush against your collarbone, and you let your mind go blank as her mouth moves down, down, down—

maybe minatozaki sana has learned a few things about you, too.

the two of you make a habit of late-night meetings at her apartment.

it’s nice. the sex is incredible—mind-blowing, actually, you must admit—and you learn a fourth thing about sana, which is that she’s actually not nearly as annoying as you once believed. at the office, sana’s rambling has become less migraine-inducing commotion and more mildly tolerable background noise. you almost listen for it now, actually, just to know she’s around—not that you’d let any of your coworkers know.

because when your whole arrangement starts, you ask sana if she could keep things on the low, giving a sheepish explanation about not wanting your nosy coworkers to ask questions. you tell her you want this to be a no-strings-attached situation, just casual sex between two people who happen to be coworkers, and you don’t want anyone else knowing about it. sana agrees easily, giggling about how quickly it had gotten around the office that one of the interns had a crush on your department manager mina, and, to your relief, you figure that’s probably the end of that discussion.

you take it a little too seriously, maybe. truthfully, you sort of ignore her. at work, you both operate directly under dahyun, though you work with everyone on coordinated projects—“work” being a loose term; sana never does anything she’s supposed to do, mostly spending her days just chatting with whoever’s willing to engage in a conversation or be distracted for more than two minutes (typically momo—though chaeyoung, nayeon, and jeongyeon are common targets too) or watching an absurd amount of youtube videos whenever she’s meant to be doing something useful. regardless, you act like there’s nothing between the two of you; you don’t acknowledge her unless it’s absolutely necessary and only exchange words about work-related topics. everyone else constantly talks to her or invites her to hang out, but you attempt to keep your contact to a minimum. whenever you join the girls for a drink after work, if sana shows up, you find an excuse to leave as quickly as you can. if sana’s already in the cafeteria, you find a place at another table on the other side of the room (even if you’d really wanted to sit where momo and chaeyoung are chatting animatedly across from sana). you try as hard as possible to ensure that there’s minimal interaction between the two of you when you’re in public.

but sometimes, sana stares at you a bit too long when she’s standing by the printer, or she greets you a little too comfortably when she bumbles towards her desk in the morning. you don’t necessarily say anything to discourage her, but you think about it—especially when momo smirks knowingly at you as you watch sana bend over to pick up a stack of papers she’d clumsily dropped—when nayeon glances meaningfully at you for half a second as sana starts to whine and complain at lunch about being single and bored—when jihyo approaches you on your birthday and gifts you two tickets to a concert for an artist you’d shown to sana (while wrapped around each other under her sheets) but never mentioned to anyone else before.

whenever they ask, you say to your coworkers that you barely know sana. it’s sort of a lie, but sort of a truth, too.

“maybe you’d know her more if you weren’t always avoiding her,” jeongyeon says one night while you’re grabbing some drinks from the bar together. “i think you’re being dramatic. sana is perfectly sweet, really. i don’t know why you run away every time she looks at you.”

you shake your head. “i’m not avoiding her. but i don’t have to be friends with everyone in the office.”

“well, i think she wants to be friends with you,” jeongyeon responds casually. “just talk to her. i have a feeling you two would get along really well.”

“you know, you should try minding your own business.” you ignore jeongyeon’s eye roll. “whatever. if she wants to be friends with me, maybe she should be more obvious about it.”

if you think too long about being friends with sana—or just about sana—your heart starts to beat a little faster in your chest.

you don’t know minatozaki sana, not really. but you can’t help but think you’d really like to.

about a month after your first night together, sana starts sending you random photos and videos—cute animals, most of the time, or just simple things—usually followed by a short message. this reminded me of you! hehe, she types. you typically respond with emojis—the smiley with the halo usually, or a butterfly sometimes—always non-committal and vague, just enough to let her know you’ve seen her messages. sometimes you send a couple words—so cute!! you say. your texts aren’t long or particularly engaging—still, the frequency of her messages never decreases. there’s a fifth thing you learn about sana: she’s addicted to texting. you don’t know if you prefer that or not.

it’s at this point that you stop putting in so much effort to avoid her. if she happens to sit next to you at lunch, you don’t look at her, but you don’t get up and leave anymore either. whenever she greets you in the morning, instead of responding with silence, you give her a small nod. you let her sit with you any time you meet the girls for drinks, staying the entire time without giving an excuse to go home.

when dahyun asks if you’re friends with sana now, you shrug. “i don’t know. not really? still just coworkers.”

the words feel wrong, taste acrid in your mouth. but they’re also half true, because you’re not friends—not really.

after all, you barely know five things about her.

sometimes, when you have sex with sana, it’s a game. sana says or red light green light, maybe. tonight is one of those nights—lie down, sana says, so you comply. no touching, sana says, so you nod. you’re lying on the bed, wrists and ankles restrained, gaze following sana as she struts towards you, a dangerous glint in her dark eyes. the cool air of the room has you shivering lightly, although it might just be from the hungry look sana’s sending you, lips curled into a proud smirk as she watches you tug a little at your cuffs. she’s spent the last hour teasing you, touching you everywhere except where you hopelessly crave, working you up until you’re dizzy with lust.

“please, sana,” you whine softly. “i need you.” you watch as she crawls towards you on the bed, stops at your chest.

and here’s one more thing you’ve come to learn about sana—sana likes it like this: when she’s in complete and total control, with you begging for her permission for everything. she delights in the way your voice cracks and breaks, too consumed with desire to be embarrassed at your desperation soaking the bed sheets.

“need me how?” she tilts her head teasingly, glancing at your glistening slit and grinning. “use your words.”

“need your fingers,” you whimper. “need you inside me, please.” you yank at the cuffs around your wrists again, impatient. sana hums and leans down to capture your lips in a deep kiss, her tongue moving against your own.

“cute. ask properly,” sana murmurs against your lips, “and maybe i’ll give you what you want.” her mouth moves down to your collarbone and you can feel yourself dripping onto the sheets as she sucks a hickey there.

shuddering, you manage to croak out, “will you please fuck me with your fingers? please, i need you so bad, sana.” she lets out a satisfied chuckle and brushes her lips against yours again, nipping at your bottom lip. a second later, she runs two fingers along your entrance, gathering your wetness before pushing one finger inside. you moan in delight as she begins to pump in and out. “will you add another, please sana?”

“my good girl,” she purrs, “asking so politely.” she crooks another finger inside you and starts to fuck you deeper, faster. you moan louder, gasp and whine when she curls her fingers into your g-spot, struggle against your cuffs as pleasure spreads throughout your body. sana snickers smugly, lowers her head to your chest, wraps her lips around your sensitive nipple. her teeth graze lightly against the peak. “does it feel good, baby?” she uses her thumb to rub at your clit—she’d teased too much, and now you’re positively overwhelmed with desire at every touch.

you try to answer, you do—your mouth opens, but all that slips out are more moans. sana doesn’t berate you this time, just giggles and continues to draw you closer and closer to the edge, fingers moving deep inside you, eventually moving to tease her tongue against your other nipple.

it’s not long before you’re tearfully confessing, “sana, fuck, i’m so close. please, i’m gonna cum.” she circles your clit more intensely then, and you gasp. “sana!” she nips playfully at your breast before letting go and looking down at you.

“what do you say, baby?” her dark eyes bore into your own and you whimper knowingly.

“can i cum, please?” you beg, breath catching in your throat as you watch sana bite her lip, fingers still pumping inside you. you have only moments before you might just explode. tonight she has mercy on you, gives you what you want without a fight.

“cum for me.”

at her soft command, you cum instantly on her fingers, sana moaning at the feeling and fucking you through your orgasm. “oh, fuck, i—fuck, sana,” you cry out, twitching, pulling at your restraints, tears leaking from your eyes as you finally come down from your high and settle into the bed with an exhale. sana slips her fingers out, kisses you tenderly.

there’s a brief moment where both of you just lie there, breathing heavily. you close your eyes, feel her press a kiss against your jaw, hum at the gesture. then she’s moving once more, spreading your legs, kissing along your thighs, biting playfully at the soft flesh there before you feel her warm tongue licking into your slit, lips wrapping around your clit and—

sana uses her tongue to lick up all your cum, looks up at you with lust-filled eyes. she sucks at your bud, fucks into you with her tongue. “sana,” you moan wantonly. you’re still not really recovered from your first orgasm, but that doesn’t deter sana, and you don’t tell her to stop. she suddenly fills you with two fingers again and you whimper as she picks up the speed, mouth moving to your clit once more. the suction is incredible. “oh fuck, yes, sana, just like that.” you grind down against her mouth subconsciously.

she angles her fingers like she had before, presses into your g-spot, flicks her tongue against your clit. “you taste good,” she mumbles before taking your clit into her mouth again. you let out a low groan in response, unable to form words—all you can focus on is sana, her mouth and fingers bringing you closer to your peak with every thrust, every lick, every movement.

she lets you cum two more times that night before she’s undoing your restraints, her own juices sticky on your thigh, then using a damp towel to clean you, offering you water and sweet kisses as she checks in on you.

“as always, you were so good for me tonight,” sana praises you with a bright grin as you sip at your water, your eyes half closed. her fingers trail lightly over the hickeys she’d marked along your thighs, breasts, chest. so maybe that’s another thing you’ve learned about sana—she has somewhat of a possessive streak. “so perfect.”

hours later, as sana sleeps next to you, you watch her chest rising and falling evenly, peacefully, before you collect your things and glance at her one last time, slipping out of her apartment with your stomach filled with butterflies.

it’s going on three months since you’d first slept with sana—and something shifts.

she starts messaging you things that both makes your heart flutter and your stomach flip—things like this is so us underneath a video of two dogs cuddling—a picture of her having a small picnic by the river followed by the words wish you were here.

half the time she doesn’t even add pictures or videos to her messages anymore—i miss you baby, she sends. or just good morning! with some variant of heart emojis. sometimes you get something a little more lengthy—watching the drama you mentioned the other day. have you seen the latest episode? maybe we can watch it together!

you think this means you’re probably actually friends now. the thought makes you grin.

eventually, sana begins leaving little gifts at your desk: your favorite iced coffee, packets of gummies, even a delicate—and expensive—necklace.

you hide the necklace underneath your shirt when mina pulls you aside to gently remind you about the company policy for disclosing personal relationships between employees. you insist you have nothing to say and look away with red cheeks when mina’s eyes drift towards sana’s desk.

it burns against your chest when you wear it, but you can’t bring yourself to take it off, either.

a month passes by, sana’s present never leaving your neck. you meet chaeyoung for coffee one morning over the weekend.

“i’ve been meaning to tell you, but i like your necklace,” she remarks, her thin fingers gesturing towards said piece of jewelry. “it’s really pretty. where’d you get it?”

you fight off a blush. “thanks. uh, someone gave it to me as a gift.”

“someone?” chaeyoung looks at you and notices the pink dusting your cheeks, her eyebrows shooting up. “hold on. you mean like a special someone?” she looks at your necklace then at you again, curious.

“well…” you look away awkwardly for a moment. “i don't know.”

“you've worn it every day for a few weeks now,” she points out. “must be someone at least a little special for you to wear that so often, yeah?”

a small frown starts to form on your lips. “maybe i just really like the necklace.”

chaeyoung hums. “maybe. it does look like something you’d pick out yourself.” she glances appreciatively at it once more before a mischievous grin tugs at her mouth. “but i know you. you like the necklace, sure, but you like the fact that it came from”—she pauses like she’s about to say a name—“this person more.”

and, well. she might have a point.

you’ve learned a few more things about sana over the past few months—like that she tries really hard to do things for you before you even consider asking for them, says things that make you melt and smile softly, giggles at even your worst jokes and talks to you when you’re lonely or upset. it’s all very sweet. sana is sweet. truthfully, you do like knowing she spent time picking out a necklace she thought you might like. the mental image of sana browsing through multiple shops with a cute little pout on her face until she finds the perfect gift for you makes you want to grin like an idiot.

you like sana. a lot, you realize.

but you’re not sure where she stands, because you’ve seen her gift mina and momo things before too. maybe it doesn’t mean anything special to her. that’s something you haven’t learned about her. so you simply scoff and shove chaeyoung in the shoulder, hiding your scowl in your cup of coffee, ignoring the way your heartbeat quickens at the thought of sana, sana, sana.

sana’s wearing that same cute little prada skirt today, the one she wore the day you’d first slept together. there’s one more thing you’d learned about sana: the woman loves her prada. you watch her walk in, greeting everybody with a charming smile and enthusiastic wave.

sana has really nice legs—not that you needed a reminder.

for a few moments, you let yourself stare at her and think about her smooth skin, her breathy whines, her long legs spread open just for you, her soft thighs quivering as you lower your mouth—

“have you already started on that presentation for new concepts for the upcoming quarter?”

dahyun’s voice breaks you from your reverie. you manage to drag your eyes away from sana and look up at dahyun. she seems tired, looking at her computer with her brows furrowed as she taps at her keyboard. you blink.

“uh—no, not yet. i was going to start on it later, though.”

she nods, still staring intently at her screen. “work on it with sana,” she requests. you open your mouth to respond, but she speaks again before you can say anything. “it’ll be better to have both of you coming up with ideas. i know you haven’t really worked with her before, but she’s not a bad worker, really. she usually has quite a few good ideas if you can get her to focus for long enough. but right now she needs something to do, and i can’t get her to work for more than ten minutes. maybe you’ll have better luck getting somewhere with sana.” she exhales loudly then and finally glances at you with pleading eyes, looking worn out despite the day just starting.

you sigh. “okay. i’ll see if there’s a conference room available to book today and grab sana.”

two hours later, you drag sana into one of the smaller conference rooms in the hallway next to your desks so you can speak a little louder with her, hoping to brainstorm together.

you’re wildly unsuccessful, of course.

sana spends the first thirty minutes of your two reserved hours playing papa's freezeria on her laptop while you try to work on your own. eventually, you can’t take it anymore. you look up from your laptop and clear your throat. sana glances at you.

“what are you doing?”

sana angles her laptop towards you a little so you can clearly see her sundae platter on the screen. it’s overflowing with toppings. her customer frowns, gives her zero stars and no tip. sana whines and turns the laptop back towards her, pouting a little before shooting a bright grin at you. “mina showed me this game,” she chirps. “have you played it before? it’s actually pretty fun.” she clicks a few more times, taking a new customer’s order. immediately, she begins creating another ice cream monstrosity. you just blink at her.

“seriously, do you ever do anything productive around here?” you try to sound serious, but you can hear the fondness in your voice, a small smile forming on your face.

“nope,” sana responds cheerily, looking up from her game. “well, i talk to momo. that seems pretty productive to me.”

you roll your eyes good-naturedly at her serious expression. “sana, that’s not productive. that’s distracting.” you tap her lightly on the wrist. “come on, we need to finish this.” you get up from your chair and make your way to the whiteboard on the wall, getting ready to note the major ideas you’d already thought of on your own.

she smiles brightly at you and closes out of her game. “okay, whatever you need.”

twenty more minutes go by, and you’re actually starting to get somewhere. just as dahyun had mentioned, sana’s a good worker when she puts her mind to it, creative and thoughtful. that was something pleasant to learn about her. she’d even gotten up to write a few notes of her own on the board. you’re in the middle of jotting down a few more details on the whiteboard when sana sets a hand on your shoulder, leans in a little closer next to you to peer at your handwriting and you can smell her perfume. you inhale a little, squeeze your eyes shut, try to retain your focus. it doesn't work.

“you smell good.” you don’t even really register your voice relaying the words to sana until you open your eyes and find that she’s looking at you, honey dripping from her eyes. instantly, you blush.

“cute,” sana whispers, gaze dropping to your mouth. she leans in then, brings your lips together in a slow kiss. you drop the whiteboard marker and your hands instantly fall to her waist while she curls one hand around your jaw, the other playing with your necklace and resting lightly against your chest.

kissing sana is familiar, easy, but it’s the first time you’re kissing her like this: in public, outside of the comfort of her apartment, where, theoretically, anyone could see you. the thought makes your heart race rapidly. maybe you should be more concerned about the fact that you’re kissing sana not even ten feet away from your coworkers, barely concealed by the translucent door of the conference room, but the swipe of her tongue against your lips pushes every thought out of your head. you grip her waist tighter, trying to fight back a whine and failing. 

she makes a sweet sound against your lips in return. “sana,” you say hoarsely, pulling back just enough to take a breath, resting your forehead against hers. she just hums. “we—we need to finish this.”

“okay,” she replies easily, drawing back and giving you an innocent smile. your eyes drop to her lips. she smirks.

“okay,” you repeat, unable to look away from her mouth. she bites her lip. you stare.

“i thought you said we need to finish this?” she cocks her head, blinks at you. but she’s leaning in again, her breath fanning against your lips.

“uh huh,” you say dumbly. “yeah. we should… finish this…” you close the gap, kiss her deeply, let out a quiet gasp when she sticks a hand up your shirt and rests it against your stomach, stroking your skin. your back hits the wall, and it’s only then that you realize sana had been gently pushing you backwards. “sana…”

sana presses you into the wall, licks into your mouth. your thoughts become hazy as she kisses you languidly. the hand she has under your shirt brushes against your bra and you shiver. her other hand rests on your waist, warm and firm. you whimper into her mouth and she pulls away, giggling. “you’re too cute,” she whispers against your lips. she drops her hand from your bra so she’s grabbing at both sides of your waist, then pushes you against the wall once more as she leans in to kiss you again. all too soon, she pulls away again, shooting you a playful smile as she sits back down in front of her laptop. you stare at her, breath catching in your throat. “back to work!” she says with a teasing wink.

you ignore her triumphant grin when you impatiently drag her out of her chair and lay her on top of the conference table, not caring that anyone could walk in on you at any moment.

the soft adoring look sana gives you when you help her pull her skirt back on is worth the embarrassment you feel when dahyun winks at you later and tells you she knew you’d get somewhere with sana.

you’re at the office one morning, on your way to the bathroom, when you overhear it.

“you’re so good at this,” a muffled voice groans out behind the corner of the hallway.

“mmm.” another voice. this one is familiar to you—extremely so. “does it feel good?”

it’s sana.

“yes, feels so good,” the other voice whimpers. they gasp and moan. you hear sana giggle.

you briskly turn back around.

well.

it seems like you aren’t sana’s only plaything.

(that’s something you didn’t really want to learn about sana.)

six months.

half a year since the first time you’d let sana’s hands roam all over your body, let her bring you to the edge again and again and again.

you finally stop sneaking out of her apartment, instead starting your days with her arm thrown over your waist, legs tangled in her overpriced sheets. you also find yourself spending entire weekends at her place. you’d taken to going over to her place every friday night and staying until sunday. sometimes you even spend most of the week there, making sure to go to work in separate vehicles. it’s a little more domestic than you’d imagined things would be when this had all started, but you like it—maybe a little more than you should.

it’s dangerous for your heart.

as it turns out, sana’s an awful chef; on one occasion, she starts a small fire in her kitchen attempting to make your favorite breakfast. to ensure you don’t starve, you put yourself in charge of all cooking related activities, lightly swatting at her whenever she hovers around you in the kitchen. but you always give in when she slips her arms around you from behind, rests her chin on your shoulder, croons appreciatively in your ear when you feed her small bites here and there.

she’s annoying.

she’s lovely.

it’s terrifying, because you know you’re falling for sana. you know her now, and you like everything you’ve gotten to know. but what you don’t know is how sana feels. you know you’re friends by now. but sana hasn’t said anything and, based on what you’d heard that one day at the office, clearly she’s not exclusive with you, so you begrudgingly admit to yourself that she doesn’t think it’s become anything deeper than that. it hurts, and you’re sort of embarrassed. of course you’d fall for someone who only sees you as a friend.

it’s this fact that prompts you to shut down sana’s request to tell even just one person about your private time together. she insists that momo can keep a secret, but you give her a firm refusal, almost bordering on hostile. you can tell she’s disappointed, maybe even a little surprised at your aggression, but she quickly presses a kiss to your lips and assures you she’s still okay with keeping things secret. you think maybe you overreacted—it was just one question, after all.

“i’m sorry, sana,” you murmur as you pull her closer. “i just really don't want to risk everyone being all up in our business, you know?” it’s more like you don't want to give anyone a reason to analyze your unrequited feelings for sana, but what sana doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

“i understand,” she mumbles into your ear. “i suppose the girls are sort of gossipy, huh?” you’re grateful for the olive branch, and you accept it quickly.

“more than just sort of. i’ve learned more about nayeon’s favorite sex positions than i’ve ever wanted to know,” you joke with a grimace, and sana giggles and hits your shoulder lightly.

later that night, you try not to pay attention to the churning in your stomach when you think about your gossipy friends dissecting how you’d fallen for the company’s daughter all while she’d been making some other girl moan just ten feet away from your desk.

you wouldn’t be able to handle the humiliation of everyone knowing you’d been dumb enough to break your own boundaries and fall for your fuck buddy, only for her to not feel the same.

sana shifts in her sleep, cuddles closer into you.

it’s enough for now. it has to be.

the next weekend, you find yourself getting lunch with tzuyu. you’re sipping at your water when your phone lights up with a text.

it’s sana. can we have tteokbokki for dinner tonight? i’ve been craving it all day!! i’ll even be your sous chef!!!

you grin as you type back a response. sure. but as my sous chef, you should know that if you blow anything up, you’re fired immediately…

you go back to eating when tzuyu speaks. “who are you texting?”

“huh?” you look up at her. “oh, nobody.”

her eyebrows go up. “you’re an awful liar, you know.” she shrugs, watching you blush. “but whatever. keep your secrets. something tells me i might already know the answer anyway.”

you can’t tell if the feeling spreading through your veins is nausea or relief.

the following monday, sana sits next to you at lunch, and when her hand brushes against your wrist, your breath catches in your throat. you act like you don’t see the smug, pleased look she sends you. she stares at you with a grin—something bright sparks in your chest.

you fiddle with your necklace and try not to think about sana, but you find it’s next to impossible when every other thing reminds you of the woman.

you let your pinky rest against her hand for the rest of lunch. a confession. momo has the decency to pretend she doesn’t notice.

on tuesday, you walk into the office with a cheerful smile on your face. you log onto your computer, work on a few assignments, collaborate with nayeon and jeongyeon on a presentation for the upcoming quarterly report.

during lunch, you sit with tzuyu and chaeyoung and pretend like you aren’t staring at sana across the room—like you aren’t watching how momo’s leg brushes against sana’s, pinky fingers innocently laid across each other atop the table—like you aren’t following how jihyo’s hand reaches across the table to gently fix sana’s hair, tucking it behind her ear neatly—like you aren’t wondering what it might be like to really touch sana in public, to interact with her so easily, to love her freely, loudly.

later, when you’re reporting to mina that you’ve finished your department’s presentation, you try not to stare beyond her shoulder at dahyun and sana giggling together over some sort of inside joke of theirs. you barely manage to push the giddiness down enough to keep your focus on mina, and you falter when sana catches your eye from across the room, her playful grin momentarily turning sultry when she notices your heavy gaze. you pretend it doesn’t affect you and give mina a half-hearted apology before you continue to review the contents of your presentation, sana and dahyun disappearing around the corner as mina nods approvingly at your words.

a few hours later, you’re making your way over to a meeting to discuss the upcoming quarterly budget when you hear it again.

“oh sana,” you hear a breathy voice groan out.

sana and… whoever else she’s hooking up with who isn’t you. they’re in one of the conference rooms. you avoid looking at the door.

“is this good? or do you want it harder?”

“this is perfect.”

sana hums. “that’s what i like to hear.”

you rush towards your meeting, holding back tears as you speed away.

later that night, as you watch sana wash the dishes after dinner, you feel your heart breaking but you know what you need to do. “hey sana?”

she puts the last dish away and turns to you with a little grin. “yeah? what’s up?”

“i think maybe…” you look at sana. “maybe we should… stop.”

“stop?” sana starts to frown.

“you know… stop. this.” you gesture between the two of you half-heartedly. “us.”

sana just stares at you, standing stiffly in the middle of the kitchen. her lip wobbles. “but… why?”

you try to keep a neutral expression. “i just think it’s for the best.”

she’s silent for a long moment. then she looks up at you, eyes hardened. “okay. then i think you should go.”

“oh. uh, okay.” you gather your things as she stares at you harshly. you make your way to the door, then look back at sana. “wait. we’re still okay, right?”

sana just looks at you. she scoffs and turns back around, heading to her room. you try to take a step to follow her, but she puts her hand out. “leave. please.”

so you do.

you text her a few hours later. are we okay?

she doesn’t respond.

you do, however, receive a text from momo a few minutes later. it simply reads give her space.

it’s better than nothing.

(you still cry yourself to sleep that night, not knowing that on the other side of the city, momo simply holds sana in her arms as she does the same.)

the rest of the week goes by slowly. it’s awful. you’re not sleeping, not eating, not functioning.

during your lunch break on friday, tzuyu stares as you shovel rice into your mouth, unimpressed. you ignore her, but eventually her silence makes you shift uncomfortably. you glance around the room, looking for sana. you find her at a table across the room with jihyo and momo. you stare at her as subtly as you can.

by the brokenhearted expression on sana’s face and the uncomfortable frown jihyo gives you—not to mention the way momo is openly making eye contact with you—you’re sure it wasn’t subtle at all.

you look away and catch tzuyu’s eye. “what?”

she blinks at you, shrugging almost imperceptibly. “is there something going on with you?”

you freeze before scooping up another bite of rice. “no.” you try to sound unaffected. “why?”

tzuyu hums. “no reason. it’s just that both you and sana have seemed a little… strange the past few days. i thought something might have happened between you two.”

“and why would you think anything’s happening between sana and me?” it comes out a little less convincing than you’d intended. tzuyu’s brows furrow slightly and she leans back into her seat.

“well… you’re…” tzuyu pauses, clears her throat as she eyes you carefully. “you’re… friends, right?” you don’t answer and tzuyu stares at you again. “come on. i’m not blind. you clearly have something going on with her. why won’t you tell me?”

there’s a flash of movement in front of you and momo suddenly plops down into the seat next to tzuyu. “what are you two talking about?” she takes out her food, immediately biting into her lunch.

“nothing,” you grumble.

“we’re talking about how someone here is in love with sana and is really awful at pretending like she’s not.”

“tzuyu!” you glare at her, then look down at your food, shy. “that’s not exactly what we were talking about.”

in between bites of her sandwich, momo hums. “oh, right.” momo’s next words make you frown. “i heard you guys broke up.” the expression on her face is anything but innocent. you glance over to where she’d been sitting before with sana. sana and jihyo are pointedly not looking in your direction. you look back at momo, who’s trying a little too hard to act nonchalant.

“are you spying on me for sana? also, we weren’t dating. i don’t—what did sana tell you?”

“uh, it’s not spying if i’m speaking to you in front of your face. but i did maybe tell sana i’d come over here and see what you were talking about. also, she didn’t have to tell me anything.” momo snickers, takes another bite. you stare at her as she chews. “you guys aren’t that great at hiding when you’re hooking up in the conference rooms. plus, i know the code to her place. you really shouldn’t leave your panties on the couch so often.” she grins crookedly. you squeak in embarrassment.

tzuyu grimaces. “didn’t need that mental image, thanks.”

momo finally realizes something. “hold on. you weren’t dating?” momo’s next words make you frown. “wait, but you know she thought this whole time that you were dating, though, right?”

you shake your head. “no, that can’t be right. the other week i heard her and someone else hooking up in the hallway. she was doing something right, because they just kept moaning and telling her it felt good. and i heard them again on tuesday in one of the conference rooms. sana was asking them if they wanted it harder, and…” you trail off.

tzuyu tilts her head. “uh, actually.” you look at her and she coughs a little. “i don’t think she was hooking up with anyone.”

“what do you mean?” you frown.

“one of the A&R interns just had surgery on their shoulder. sana’s been giving her massages to help with the pain every now and then.”

your heart stops. what?

momo nods. “oh yeah. sana’s pretty good at giving massages. did you seriously think she was hooking up with someone else? aren’t you, like, practically living at her place?”

you groan, drop your head to the table. guilt washes over you and you swallow roughly. “oh my god. i really fucked up. what should i do?” your voice comes out a whisper. “i… i’m in love with her.”

momo shrugs, shoves the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth. she chews thoughtfully, swallows down her food, then takes a sip of her lemonade. “i know i told you to give her space, but as her best friend, i know for a fact that she misses you. i have a feeling that if you went to her place and explained why you did what you did, she’d probably be willing to hear you out.”

you exhale. “really? you don’t think she’d be mad if i just showed up?”

“nah. well, the other day she did mention wanting to stab you with a steak knife.”

“momo!”

she bursts out laughing. “i’m just kidding. she’ll want to have a mature conversation. she just needed time to think about things. i’m sure she won’t stab you and she’ll hear you out.”

“you’re not very helpful,” you grumble. momo grins at you.

“oh, one more thing. if you ever hurt sana again, she won’t need a steak knife, because i will kill you myself. you’d make an excellent stew, i think.”

“momo!”

you decide to follow momo’s advice, despite the slight worry of sana pulling a knife on you, and find yourself outside sana’s apartment on saturday morning.

deep breaths, you think. sana is a reasonable person. she won’t stab you. she’ll talk to you.

you ring the bell.

a few moments pass.

“what are you doing here?” sana’s voice comes through the speaker. you glance at the doorbell camera.

“i wanted to talk,” you say slowly, “and apologize. and clear some things up. if you’ll let me.”

silence.

then sana’s buzzing you in, and you nearly shed a tear at the sight of sana opening her door for you, wearing one of your worn-out t-shirts and her too-short sleep shorts.

“okay.” she sighs. “come in.”

you give her a soft smile and step inside. she closes the door behind you and turns to face you.

“hi,” you say dumbly, playing with your fingers nervously.

sana cracks a small grin. “hi,” she replies. “want some coffee?”

you can’t help but brighten and smile wider at her. “i’d love some, thanks.”

sana walks towards the kitchen and you follow her. you stand behind her as she pours coffee into your favorite mug. her fingers brush against yours when she hands it to you and you inhale sharply. you look at her and her cheeks redden slightly. “let’s sit down, yeah?” you nod at her words and make your way to her living room, sitting gently on her couch and sipping at your coffee before setting it on the small table in front of you.

“thank you,” you begin, “for letting me in and for hearing me out. i know you could tell me to go away and i’d have no right to complain. so thank you again. but i really want to make things right between us and explain myself.”

sana nods. “okay.”

“i guess i should start with saying i’m sorry. i really didn’t mean to hurt you. to be honest, i didn’t think me ending things would even matter to you.”

“oh.” sana frowns. “why wouldn’t it?”

“i…” you sigh. “i honestly thought you didn’t see me as anything more than a friend. like, a fuck buddy. but i was okay with that because i thought maybe… if we spent more time together… anyway. yeah. but then a couple months ago, i heard what i thought was you and someone else hooking up at work. and that hurt so much—to think i wasn’t the only one getting to spend that kind of time with you, you know? and then i heard the same thing again a few days ago on tuesday, and that was just. you know. all i could take. so… i thought it would be better for my heart to make a clean break.”

sana’s quiet. then she looks at you in confusion and says, “okay, sorry, but—what? i haven’t been hooking up with anyone else since, you know, our first time.”

you blush. “i know. or, well, momo and tzuyu told me literally just yesterday that i’d grossly misheard things. they told me you were just giving an intern a massage for their shoulder surgery recovery. but yeah. i’d already ended things with you when i found out that i was mistaken. so. here i am.”

“i…” sana blinks. “okay. so… you ended things with me because you don’t want me to hook up with anybody else. well, i’m not. so… is that all?”

“actually, there’s something else i need to tell you.”

sana slowly nods, her eyes shining with something you recognize as hope. you take a deep breath.

“i like you—i love you. i'm so in love with you, sana, and i've been falling for you for months and i just—you're all i think about. when i'm with you, i'm the happiest i've ever been, and when i'm not with you, i'm just thinking about the next time i can be with you. it's like… it’s like my life is just measured in moments of with sana and waiting to be with sana. and i’m terrified. because i—i thought you were hooking up with someone else, that you didn’t like me the way i like you. or, well. the way i love you.”

sana lets out a breath, leans forward into your space. you blink and before you can register what's happening, she’s kissing you.

the kiss is—different. it's wet, for one, because someone’s crying. in the back of your mind, you register it's probably you. but this kiss is also all-consuming, like sana’s been holding back every time you’d kissed before this, like this is the first time she’s really kissing you the way she’s always wanted. this kiss is full of love, you realize. sana pulls back slightly and you subconsciously chase her lips, blushing and looking down when she lets out a laugh. she gently leans back in and rests her forehead against yours.

“you’re an idiot,” sana breathes out against your lips. you can feel her smile.

“i am?” you pull back to look at her. she just smiles at you and brings you in for another kiss before sighing.

“you’re so stupid,” sana murmurs, pressing a small kiss against your lips once more. “i…” she trails off.

“you…?” it’s hard to form words with her lips gently brushing against your own. she pulls back again and takes a deep breath.

“i’ve been in love with you,” she says quietly, “ever since you agreed to come over to my place for the first time.”

“wow, okay, i am an idiot,” you whisper. sana just nods, lips twitching playfully into a smirk.

“it’s okay though.” she sighs, leans back in to give you another soft kiss. “because i love you, and you love me.”

when you walk into the office on monday morning, it’s with sana’s hand in your own and matching smiles on your faces. you can see all of your friends gawking at the sight.

mina spots you as you round the corner and purses her lips slightly when her eyes land on your fingers tangled with sana’s. “good morning, you two. anything you’d like to tell me?” she fights back a smile at your bashful expression.

sana wrinkles her nose. “mina, i’m pretty sure you sort of work for me. do i really need to tell you that my girlfriend’s your employee?”

mina’s grin only widens when seven voices start yelling excitedly from around the office.

you roll your eyes as sana giggles. your friends are stupid.

you’ve never been happier.

sometimes, when you have sex with sana, it’s a sanctuary. long-awaited touches and whispered praises. tonight is one of those nights—you’re so beautiful, she says, so you kiss her neck. i missed you, she says, so you lay her down on the bed. you’re settled between her legs, one hand in her own warm grasp while your other hand caresses her skin where you’re pushing her leg up. you kiss along her thighs before you press a kiss against her wetness and hum as she shivers lightly. you squeeze her hand then lick against her slit once, slightly tangy slick coating your tongue instantly. she lets out a breathy moan as you lick again, tongue brushing against her clit. you’ve learned that sana likes it like this, too: when she surrenders to you, lays herself bare for you to adore, attentive and loving and intimate.

you wrap your lips around her bud and suck. she clenches your hand so hard it turns white. you dip your tongue between her folds, lick and suck and lose yourself in her heat.

“fuck,” sana sighs. “just like that, baby. you’re so perfect.” distractedly, you think about how sexy she truly is. skin slightly sweaty, girlish moans and whines slipping past her lips every few moments, body heaving with uncontrolled gasps and breaths every time your tongue swirls around her sensitive clit. you moan into her cunt and feel how she squirms and shivers.

you push her leg up more, hook it around your shoulder to make her more comfortable. as you dip your tongue inside her, you feel her use one hand to reach down and grasp at your hair. she tugs a little and you smirk, knowing she’s enjoying herself.

her slick is all over your mouth and chin. it’s intoxicating, being surrounded by sana’s presence, being covered in it. you pull your mouth away momentarily and use your hand not currently being squeezed by sana’s to lightly drag down along her skin before running it between her folds, teasing her. “shit, sana, you taste so good.” then you kiss her clit, ease two fingers into her, marvel at how easily they slip into her wetness. “oh baby,” you simper. “you must’ve wanted this so badly, hm?”

you bring your mouth back to her pussy, savoring her taste. sana lets out a strangled noise as you find the right angle inside her, curl your fingers slightly, lick against her mound. you bring her clit into your mouth again and suck the way you know she likes. you keep fucking her with your fingers as you eat her out enthusiastically, never wanting to stop.

after a while, sana starts twitching around you. her breathing gets even heavier as she gasps and grinds down onto your tongue. she opens her mouth to say something, but instead she releases a long, drawn-out groan. pleased, you suck a little harder at her clit knowingly, wait for her to speak.

“i’m gonna—fuck,” she gasps. “fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, baby.” her voice is deeper than usual, thick with desire. it sends a thrill down your spine. you hum, don’t stop what you’re doing, finger her a little deeper and keep licking at her.

a few moments later, sana’s letting out a cry and cumming hard on your fingers and tongue. you continue to pump your fingers in and out, slowing down a little, swallowing her juices and lapping at her clit until she’s gently laying a hand on your collarbone. you pull away and take your fingers out and stare up at her, pupils completely blown.

she’s no different—her eyes are unfocused, totally black. she pants and bites her lip as she watches you take the fingers that were inside her into your mouth and suck her release off them. you grin at her. “i love the way you taste,” you say casually. “and i love making you cum. you look so pretty when you do, you know?

sana blushes all the way down to her chest. “yeah?”

“well, actually, i don't know,” you say, tapping at your chin. “i might need to see it again, just to make sure.”

she squeals and giggles when you kiss her, sighs adoringly when you bring a hand down between her legs again.

you spend hours after that watching her body and expressions when she cums—on your tongue, your fingers, your thigh, your stomach—and each time, she looks impossibly prettier than the last.

after you both become too exhausted to keep going, you clean up, get ready for bed together, showering and going through your nightly routine. it’s soothing, and you finally flop into her bed and start to drift off. sana’s still in the bathroom. everything starts to fade as you begin to succumb to your fatigue.

you don’t even register sana coming to bed, pulling the sheets over the both of you, turning off the lights. time passes; you’re not sure how much, but it must be a while, because you keep drifting and waking slightly, on the very edge of finally letting yourself fall asleep. sana seems to be in the same boat. her body has relaxed to the point that you know she’s about to pass out in the next ten seconds. you’re barely conscious, nearly fully asleep, also seconds from slipping into a deep slumber when—

“good night, baby. i love you,” sana whispers into your neck, so low you almost don’t hear her—but you do.

sana settles her arm around your torso, pulls you impossibly closer to her body before all her muscles slump and she enters a deep sleep.

your eyes start to close as her words replay softly in the back of your head.

i love you.

sana’s gentle murmur, soft lips pressing the syllables into your flesh. i love you.

when you finally fall asleep, you dream of warm skin and sweet lips, of lithe hands and wide eyes, of sana and love.

i love you, i love you, i love you.

of all the things you know about sana, this is your favorite.

[cinnamon-galaxies]

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐢𝐫 - Part 1

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairings: Alastor x female reader Summary: During a night out at a club with the hotel crew, you enjoy dancing and drinking with Angel while Alastor remains visibly uncomfortable in the lounge area. Seeking distraction from your conflicted feelings towards him, you connect with another woman, which quickly escalates into an embarrassing situation. This forces you to question not only your emotions but also the true nature of your complicated relationship with Alastor. Warnings/Tags: female reader, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, drunk reader, kissing, reader is bisexual and makes out with another woman, Alastor gets jealous, Alastor is bad at feelings so instead of communicating his jealousy he decides to taunt reader, second hand embarrassment Wordcount: 4.4k A/N: I can’t believe it – I’ve finally managed to write a new story! It has a second part that’s almost finished and will be posted at the end of the month. If you’d like to be tagged when it’s up, just let me know! Fun fact about this story: It includes lore about my OC Mara, as the circumstances under which the reader meets Selena are the same as those in which Mara encounters her best friend in my AU! Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

   The club was packed with bodies and the colorful neon lights flickered in time with the relentless beat of electronic music. Loud chatter and the pounding bass around him formed an unbearable cacophony that made Alastor cringe inwardly. He despised the modern scene and its noise, the crowds and overall lack of refinement. It was far from his idea of a pleasant evening. Oh, how much he hated to be here. Stressed and feeling completely out of place, Alastor sat in the lounge area of one of Pentagram City's most notorious clubs, his grin strained, his ears perked up and a much too sweet cocktail in his hand. If it wasn’t for his gloves, the whitened knuckles from his heavy grip around the glass would’ve been apparent even from afar. He hadn’t intended to come here and would’ve preferred to stay at the hotel, settling himself in front of his fireplace with a good book and fine jazz in the background. Honestly, he would’ve even preferred to clean the entire hotel over being forced to spend his time in this establishment which felt as wrong as a walk through the Vee’s district. It was Angel Dust who had brought up the idea of this excursion, promising a wild night of fun and debauchery to blow off some steam. The other residents had barely hesitated, convinced by the idea of spending a night out together. To Alastor’s biggest disapproval, they had insisted on him to accompany them. Not that they would’ve had the power to convince him to leave the tranquility of the quiet hotel behind for such a cacophony of modern entertainment that could be the product of one of his nightmares – no. It was you who had convinced him in the end. You were just too persistent and persuasive, and he was just too taken with you to refuse after such big eyes begged him to join.

   You, on the other side, enjoyed the evening. You were completely in your element, dressed up in a tight but elegant cocktail dress and exuding confidence as if you owned this place. Together with Angel Dust, you dominated the dance floor with fluid and inhibited movements, your arms held up in the air while you swung your hips to the rhythm of the music. You quickly became the center of attention, especially for Alastor who couldn’t help but watch you from his secluded spot, a mix of admiration and irritation flickering in his otherwise unreadable eyes. How he admired your confidence, your ability to let loose in such an uncomfortable and overstimulating place, reveling in the atmosphere with such vivid enthusiasm. Yet, the feelings he held for you were a secret, cautiously buried beneath the layers of his Radio Demon persona. 

   “Come on, Smiles, loosen up and have some fun,” Angel Dust suddenly interrupted his train of thoughts, and Alastor snapped his head in his direction, raising his eyebrows at the spider demon. When did he leave the dance floor? As Alastor glanced at him, he noticed a small tray with half a dozen shots in his hands. Angel must have left for the bar to get drinks for himself and the others. If he really thought he could convince Alastor to indulge in this kind of modern entertainment, he was delusional.

   Without a word, Alastor rolled his eyes and waved him off, his gaze drifting back to you before he got aware that Angel Dust still stood beside him and turned his attention to the glass in his hand.

   The spider demon let out a deep sigh. “Alright. Haven’t expected anything else,” he murmured and walked on, but not without placing one of the full shot glasses on the small table in front of Alastor and disappearing before Alastor could say something. He watched Angel Dust return to the dance floor, heading directly towards you. Then he stared at the shot glass and raised his eyebrow, clear liquor grinning back at him. With a sigh that was impossible to hear under the loud noise other people dared to call ‘music’, he took it in his hand and downed the substance in one gulp. A spicy burn seared in his throat, making him cough. At least the shot was tolerable…

   You had the time of your afterlife. Increasingly intoxicated after downing one drink after another you danced in the crowd, hips swaying vividly to the music with such unrestrained joy you haven’t felt in a long time. It was a good idea to agree to Angel’s suggestion to go partying. You didn't know that you needed this until you had arrived and he dragged you to the bar almost immediately to get ready for a night of reckless debauchery. You haven’t left the dance floor since you’ve emptied your first longdrink and probably won’t within predictable time because Angel Dust served you with new drinks almost every quarter of an hour.

   You watched your friend worm himself through the crowd, skillfully avoiding contact with any of the other guests, balancing the tray high above his head while he shielded himself from accidental punches with his second set of arms. When he arrived, he placed the tray on a high bar table not far from you. Still entranced by the music you danced your way over to him.

   “Damn, you really want to mess me up, huh?”, you joked as you noticed the amount of shots he got and Angel shrugged his shoulders.

   “Lil’ stock supply will prevent me from fighting myself over to the bar for at least another half an hour,” he responded, handing you a shot glass and taking one for himself.

   A laugh escaped your throat and you praised him for his genius idea with a quick wink. “Then let’s hope no one will spike them when we look away.” With that, you raised your shot glass in a quick toast and downed the clear liquor with high anticipation, a cough escaping you as the spicy alcohol burned down your throat. Dry Ouzo. Tasty, but like fire in the stomach.

   Angel chuckled at your reaction, clearly unaffected due to his regular club nights with Cherri.

   “Hey man, thanks for the drinks!” a random stranger exclaimed over the music, boldly snatching two shots away and disappearing in the crowd as fast as he had appeared.

   “And so the stock runs out,” Angel Dust deadpanned with an annoyed expression, staring with narrowed eyes in the direction the shot thief took their leave.

   You snorted through your nose, erupting in wholehearted laughter at his reaction, and shrugged your shoulders. “Looks like you’ll have to return to the bar sooner than anticipated,” you mocked him with a smirk, patting one of his lower shoulder joints.

   “Hmpf…” Without another word, Angel took another shot and downed it right after.

   You and Angel Dust spend some time just standing at the bar table, chatting with raised voices and watching the other guests while you commented on their dancing styles or played a sheepish game of ‘fuck, marry, kill’ with random strangers you pointed out from the crowd.

   After what was about an hour, you cleared your throat. “I need to go to the bathroom. After that, I’ll head to the bar and get myself a soda,” you informed Angel, and he nodded in acknowledgment. Pushing yourself up from the table, you navigated through the crowds, the effect of almost half a dozen shots clearly affecting your vision and balance. It wasn’t too debilitating because your body could handle large amounts of alcohol easily, but you still felt uncomfortable and needed some time to steady yourself and return to your senses. Some non-alcoholic drinks might work wonders to ease the symptoms. You're bound to face a brutal hangover tomorrow anyway.

   After you returned from the bathrooms you walked over to the bar, ordering a simple soda from the barkeeper. You thanked him as he handed you your non-alcoholic drink and leaned with your back against the bar counter. As you took a few gulps, your gaze wandered around the club and a sigh escaped your throat. It was an awesome evening though different from what you expected. You actually had planned to take it easy and not indulge in such debauchery. But Angel had claimed you as soon as you entered the club, dragging you away from the group and lulling you to loosen up. It’s not that you weren’t eager to go clubbing. You actually liked to partake in such excursions and just forget about the daily stress for an evening full of fun and loud music. And this time, it seemed to be helpful to suppress certain matters of the heart as well…

   Your gaze wandered to the lounge area where you found a certain deer demon sitting on a couch – the seats around him unoccupied because no one dared to sit close to him – and you could feel your heart sink. You were so confident when you convinced him to join your excursion and yet you didn’t dare to spare him a single glance ever since you entered this establishment. You had convinced him to join in a moment of boldness, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this could be an opportunity to bridge the gap between you. But instead you feared that you complicated things even further.

   Alastor was an enigma and that was part of the allure that drew you in. His charm, his charisma, and the old-world chivalry he brought to every interaction caused you to melt every time he was near. He made your heart race with a single glance, his touch – so commanding yet delicate – set your skin on fire, sending thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He was a force of nature, fierce and unpredictable, with a soft spot only those he chose were privileged to see. And you were one of those people. Yet, you weren’t even sure if you meant anything to him because he held you at a respectable distance, initiating a game of push and pull between you that left you reeling.

   Was it a mistake to bring him here? A part of you thought it was because you knew he never was one for Hell’s modern nightlife and seeing him sit there, a predator among prey with a strained grin plastered on his face and holding onto a drink in his hands, only highlighted the chasm between you two. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that you made things worse by dragging him into an environment where he seemed completely out of place, and where your feelings for him felt more unrequited than ever.

   "Dizzy head?" A female voice disrupted your train of thoughts, and you raised your head to meet the kind face of a beautiful woman leaning against the bar counter. She held a long drink with a tiny paper umbrella in her hand, her lips curled into a soft smile. Her skin had a pale pinkish hue, almost ghostly under the club's dim yet colorful lights, while two horns peeked out from her thick raven hair.

   "A little," you responded, pushing your daunting thoughts away, and took a sip from your soda. "But nothing to worry about. A few minutes of abstinence will do enough," you laughed lightly, trying to shake off the haze.

   The woman laughed along and glanced thoughtfully at the drink in her hands. “I’ll probably do the same after this one.” She shrugged and then turned her gaze back to you. “I’m Selena,” she introduced herself with a bright smile.

   “Y/N!” you returned much more joyfully than you felt.

   “So, your first time here? I’m a regular guest here so I know all of the common faces.”

   You took another sip from your soda. Maybe getting to know someone new would help you feel better. “I actually came here with a group of people. Friends and co-workers, you could say. Just a simple night out to get some distraction from the stress of maintaining the hotel,” you explained with a slight smile on your lips as your gaze quickly wandered around the club. You noticed some of your companions scattered across the establishment.

   Selena tilted her head curiously, clearly intrigued. “The hotel? So, you’re working at that ‘Hazbin Hotel’?” she asked, and soon your casual small talk turned into an extensive conversation. You told her about your job and Charlie’s unusual belief in redemption that barely received any recognition, and Selena listened intently, her curiosity keeping the conversation alive with thoughtful questions. As you talked, a sense of relief washed over you. Slowly, you learned more about Selena, and before long, thoughts of Alastor faded from your mind entirely.

   As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn back into the rhythm of shots and cocktails, and soon enough, Selena dragged you back to the pulsing dance floor. The flashing lights and thumping bass faded into the background as you moved in sync, the world reduced to just the two of you dancing and laughing like old friends. The chemistry between you was palpable. Selena mirrored your enthusiasm and joy with such ease that it felt like you had known each other for years. With every dance move and shared laughter, the bond between you deepened and you were certain that if the night continued on this smoothly and you both remembered each other the next morning, you had found a new friend. 

   The music – a popular pop song from the early 2000’s – filled the air, infusing the atmosphere with nostalgia and energy, and a sense of euphoria washed over you. You danced, drinks raised into the air while you held each other on the shoulders. Each move felt like a release, a moment of being liberated from all worries and constraints as the adrenaline rushed through your veins.

   You exchanged meaningful glances with Selena, unable to ignore the magnetic pull you felt toward her. Was it merely the alcohol heightening your perceptions, or was it genuinely her captivating presence – her allure, infectious personality, and sharp wit – that drew you in? You didn’t know but your mutual attraction pulled you closer until you eventually slipped away, stumbling into a quiet hallway at the back of the club, away from the pounding music and the press of bodies. The alcohol clouded your vision, lowered your senses and your boundaries. And so, you found yourself caught in a passionate embrace with Selena. Your fingers played with her hair as you pressed yourself against her, using the proximity with that alluring woman to your own benefit to forget about the tight squeeze around your heart and all the inner turmoil you felt whenever you thought about him.

   Meanwhile, Alastor still sat in his secluded spot, grateful that his presence was nervously avoided by the other guests. He appreciated not having to endure forced proximity with people – at least most of the time. One time during the evening, Charlie – ever the caring person – had seated herself next to him, expressing her worry about his obviously strained mood and claiming to feel guilty for not allowing him to stay at the hotel. How funny that the princess truly believed she was the reason he joined their little night out; as if she had any authority over him... To his surprise, Alastor had easily managed to brush her off by affirming he was alright all over again. A blatant lie, but preferable over enduring more of her neverending rambling. Of course, she reassured him several times that returning to the hotel would be okay, before she eventually left him alone. And Alastor would have already left hours ago if it wasn’t his primary concern to ensure your safety.

   He felt a migraine coming on, an unpleasant throbbing in his temple caused by the stress this establishment was inflicting upon him. Rising from his seat, he decided to retreat from the main area to seek some respite from the oppressive atmosphere, instructing his shadow to remain vigilant. With his cane tapping against the floor with every step, he walked past the lounge area and the dancefloor, the crowd instinctively parting to make way for him like Moses parting the Red Sea. Thanks to his observant shadow, he already knew that the back of the club led to an outside area that offered a welcome relief from the sensory overload.

   As he walked through the dimly lit hallway, the music became quieter, no longer assaulting his sensitive hearing, and instead, faint giggles reached his ears. He hesitated before rounding the corner and stopped dead in the tracks. There, in front of him, were you, pressed against a wall and your lips locked with another woman in a heated kiss. The scene was intimate, passionate, and entirely unexpected. Your body was entwined with her’s, your hands roaming through her hair while the woman held you in her embrace.

   For a moment, Alastor simply watched, unable to avert his gaze. This revelation caught him completely off-guard and his heart twisted painfully in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy and confusion warring inside him. He had known that you were fond of men but this revelation left him reeling. But no matter with whom you were with, seeing you in such an intimate manner with another person was a blow he hadn’t anticipated and that sent a surge of anger through his body. He clenched his fists, torn between storming away and interrupting you, the discomfort palpable in his features while he fought to regain his composure.

   Sensing eyes on you, you broke the kiss and looked up. You startled immediately as your eyes fell on the red deer demon.

   "Alastor!" you exclaimed in shock, instinctively pushing Selena away. She turned her head, her eyes widening immediately, her face paling in shock and fear as she recognized the figure standing before you both. "You– you’re the Radio Demon!" she stammered, her voice shaky.

   You, still breathless from the kiss, clenched your jaws together, feeling just as uncomfortable as Alastor. His grin looked strained for a second but then he returned to his cold, unreadable expression, and your heart sank in your chest.

   “Alastor… this isn’t what it looks like…” you muttered a cheap excuse while you felt the heat rising to your face, turning your already alcohol-induced cheeks to a burning red. Your lips curled into a nervous grin, driven by the rush of embarrassment coursing through your veins, mingled with a heavy, unidentifiable tangle of emotions. Out of all your companions, why did it have to be him who caught you in the middle of the act?

   Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile now sardonic while his gaze wandered back and forth between you and Selena. His voice carried a heavy static as he responded, “Oh, I think it is exactly what it looks like, my dear.”

   You took in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t mean to–,” you tried to explain but Alastor cut you off with a dismissive wave of his clawed hand.

   “Nonsense, my dear,” he laughed his discomfort off, pushing his jealousy aside, though the enhanced static on his voice betrayed his forced facade. “There’s no need to apologize. You’re free to do whatever you want. I am the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t mean to interrupt your…” He wiggled his fingers in a suggestive gesture that implied everything he wanted to say without having to utter a single word.

   You giggled nervously, your heartbeat slowly calming, and glanced at Selena who appeared visibly intimidated by Alastor’s presence, her posture tense and her joyful expression replaced by a mortified grimace, which only made you feel more uneasy.

   “I– I should go,” she eventually said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that lingered in the hallway and attempted to walk off.

   “No, wait!” you tried to stop her, not wanting to be left alone with Alastor, but Selena just forced herself to tighten her lips into a reassuring smile.

   “Don’t worry, I’ll find you later,” she retorted, interpreting your reaction as a worry to not see her again instead of the sheer plea to not be left alone. With that, she walked off, returning to the main part of the club and leaving you alone with Alastor.

   You felt his lingering gaze burning into your side, the faint glow of his crimson eyes in the dim light of the hallway making him appear more dangerous than he was. Well, assuming that Alastor wasn’t dangerous would be utterly naive – he was literally an overlord and one of the most dangerous ones at that. However, he would never harm you, so in that sense, he was harmless.

   “Enjoying yourself, I see,” Alastor eventually commented, his unreadable expression sharpened by a subtle flicker of disapproval in his eyes.

   You still couldn't bring yourself to look at him and that comment only exacerbated your unease. Why did he have to be someone who found pleasure in keeping other people on edge? Could he at least not wallow in your discomfort now? It wasn’t as if you weren’t already suffering enough.

   You sighed and bit your lip, swallowing the clod in your throat before you pulled yourself together to say something. “We were just… oh fuck me…” you mumbled those last words quietly to yourself, “Look, she’s a friend and we got a little too comfortable after drinking so much booze.” While you tried to explain the situation, you asked yourself why you even bothered. He couldn’t care less. You weren’t dating and probably not even friends. Damn, you didn’t even know what you were because everything was just too complicated between the both of you. There were pushes and pulls and every time you felt some tension crackling between you it dissipated again, leaving you clueless and completely confused by Alastor’s unpredictable behavior, his intermittent interest in you, and those random moments that allowed you a fleeting glimpse behind his facade. It was infuriating the least and most of all profoundly frustrating. If it wasn’t for him and your damned feelings for that man, you probably wouldn't even have found yourself in this predicament.

   “Why are you even here?” you asked and eventually dared to look at him. 

   “I was seeking some quiet,” he replied, his voice softer now, the edge gone.

   “And then you stumbled upon us and decided to watch?”

   He let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, come on. I did not watch,” he dismissed your question with a nonchalant throw of his hand, rolling his eyes as if you just asked him the stupidest thing. “But your little rendezvous was attracting quite the attention, dear.”

   You gritted your teeth and decided to push his borders a little. If he could make the situation awkward for you then you could certainly return the favor. Besides, you were still drunk and the alcohol lowered your inhibitions enough to go completely bold in front of him.

   Narrowing your eyes you crossed your arms in front of your chest and relaxed back against the same wall you were just pressed against by Selena mere minutes ago. “Quite the attention or your attention, Alastor?” you asked, pretending to be more confident than you actually were.

   Alastor’s grin grew more strained immediately and you could swear that one of his eyes twitched for a quick second before he regained his composure yet another time. Why was he so tense? Normally, Alastor would’ve just raised an eyebrow and walked past you without further interest. But instead he froze on spot, obviously unable to avert his gaze until you felt his eyes on you.

   He didn’t respond, so your expression grew more smug as you decided to push him just a little bit further. Maybe you could use this situation to your advantage and finally get some answers… “Could it be that it bothered you to catch me with someone else?”

   “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, dear,” he dismissed your question with another throw of his hand, rolling his eyes yet again. “I was merely caught off-guard by seeing you engaging in such frivolities with another woman. I didn’t know you swung both ways.” He tilted his head and chuckled, the static filter on his voice distorting the sound almost unnervingly.

   “Well, there’s a lot about me that you don’t know,” you retorted, your voice coming out sharper than expected.

   One of Alastor’s ears twitched at your aggravated tone. “Is that so?” he asked.

   “It is.” You deadpanned.

   A moment of silence lingered between the two of you until Alastor broke it, “Well, the world is full of surprises, isn’t it? And you, my dear, seem to be full of surprises too.”

   “I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”

   “How about both?” He tilted his head once more, casually positioning his cane in front of him and leaning on it the way he usually did when he found himself intrigued by something. The tension that had gripped him so tightly vanished as if it had never been there at all. And there it was: the so-called push and pull that left you reeling for months. 

   You took a deep breath, growing annoyed by this conversation. “If you don’t care then why are you still here?”

   “Curiosity, dear,” he responded casually.

   “Curiosity?” You arched an eyebrow, not quite buying his answer.

   “Indeed,” he affirmed.

   “Curiosity killed the cat,” you deadpanned.

   “And satisfaction brought it back,” he retorted, clearly enjoying the banter.

   You groaned. Why did he have to do this to you…? “Well, if you’re satisfied now… you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be.” You pushed yourself off the wall, ready to return to the dance floor – but not without heading towards the bar beforehand and ordering the strongest booze you could get here.

   You already set off, as Alastor’s voice called after you, “Running away, are we?”

   You stopped in your tracks and closed your eyes, reminding yourself that you were in public and therefore couldn’t just hit his head against a brick. Or…? Well, actually you could. You were in Hell, anyway. But Alastor was much stronger than you, and if you were to attack him, it meant that you couldn't be certain he would no longer be harmless to you. “I am not running away. I just don't see any reason to stay here and be interrogated by you any longer.”

   “Interrogated? My dear, I'm simply making conversation.”

   “This ain’t a simple conversation if you’re prying into my personal life.” With that you straightened your back and headed back to the main room of the club, leaving Alastor alone in the hallway, completely unaware of the hurt expression on his face.

Part 2 will be out at the end of the month. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[veronicaphoenix]

Title: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits — Bonus Scene I (can be read as part 4)

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Oliver Sykes x Reader | Words: 6.2k

Tags: polyamorous relationship, men in denial, a lot of swearing, angst, sexual content including p in v (protected), oral (m. receiving), masturbation.

Sheffield, United Kingdom

Summer 2024

I had barely wrapped the towel around my body when the sound of their escalating voices pierced through the tranquility of the house. 

         They were having an argument, and it wasn’t going good. 

         I rushed out of the bathroom and down to the living room, the urgency in my movements nearly causing me to lose my footing as I rounded the landing of Oliver’s home, my heart racing with a mix of confusion and concern. 

         Arriving in the living room, with my hair tied in a messy bun and my body clad only in the towel, I was met with a disconcerting sight. Oliver and Noah were standing in the middle of the living room, glaring, and shouting at each other. Both ignored me. Luna was conspicuously absent. 

         As I gazed between them, I noted their rigid positions and how charged their voices were. I had never seen them so heated. The smell of the heavy lunch we’d had that morning still lingered, but the atmosphere felt oppressive. The tv was murmuring in the background. Noah’s hoodie thrown casually on the armrest and Oliver’s MacBook still open on the other side of the sofa. 

         “Why all the shouting?” I questioned; my voice laced with concern as I surveyed the look on their faces, their expressions, and assessed how bad it could get from here. 

         Despite my presence, which usually incited their attention, they remained locked in the tense standoff, their focus solely fixated on each other. The air crackled with palpable agitation as accusations flew back and forth like arrows in a heated battle. 

         “Oliver here seems pretty convinced that I’m monopolizing your time, and that eventually I’ll keep you away from him, as if I’d ever sabotage this relationship,” Noah retorted bitterly, gesturing vehemently towards the man standing merely six feet from him. “Do you honestly believe I’d do such thing? What do you think I’m going to do to her, dude? Hide her passport so that she can’t travel anywhere? Burn yours so that you can’t leave this country?” 

         “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did,” Oliver said, his voice dripping with frustration and resentment. 

         His bitter-edged response only continued to mount the tension, fueled by their sudden mutual distrust and resentment. Where was this all coming from? 

         “Oh, really? That’s what you think of me?” 

         Their voices grew louder, and I couldn’t help but feel a creeping sense of unease, a primal instinct warning of impending danger. 

         “Guys, please. Can you just…” They dismissed my attempt at diffusing the escalating conflict. I spotted Luna peering at us from behind the sofa. That’s where she had been; hiding. I couldn’t blame her. I had never seen Oliver and Noah acting like this towards each other, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t scare me a little, too. “You’re scaring Luna,” I admonished, gathering some courage and adding a hint of anger to my tone. However, it seemed to have little effect on them.

         “You’re being ridiculous, Oliver. You’re being jealous over fucking nothing! We’re all in this together. You love her. I love her. We’re all invested in this relationship. We’re fucking her together. I love watching you fuck her. I understand that I spend more time with her because of our residence in the States, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about you every morning and every night.”

         As Noah’s words reverberated through the room and filled each corner, realization dawned on me. Of course, I had thought about this before, but I’d been too focused on my own happiness and pleasure that I hadn’t taken the time to address the issue. Now, as the fire grew in front of me, the problem was clear. 

         “Boys,” I said, taking a tentative step forward to position myself nearly in between their bodies. “Calm down. Please.” My hands were raised at level with their chests. I waited a few seconds, checking if my words had some effect. When I confirmed it and earned their looks, I spoke, “I think the problem is not about who’s spending more time with me,” I told them. “The problem is that you’re both fucking me but you’re not fucking each other.” It was blunt, but given their current state, I don’t think anything else would have made them redirect their focus to the real issue. 

         My blunt assessment seemed to freeze them in place, the weight of my words settling like a thick fog in the room. This was the crux of the matter, and I was determined to confront it head-on, even if the hardest part had to be sorted between them. 

         They went still, then. My words seemed to fill the room with prickling tension. This was the issue, and they were not going to change my mind. Ever since we started this relationship, I had expected for it to be more than just me getting fucked. 

         “You’re wrong,” Oliver protested after a tense pause, his voice tinged with defiance. “The problem is not sex. It’s just Noah being…”

         “Again!” Noah shouted. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I love her! And I love what the three of us have! Where is the fucking problem, man? Why are you being such a teenager?”

         “A teena—?”

         “Guys, stop! Please, stop!” This time, I pressed my hands to their chests, feeling the tension radiating through their bodies. They pressed against me. I feared that if I hadn’t been there, things might have escalated into a physical confrontation. “Oli,” I called out. He ignored me. “Oliver! Look at me. Listen to me.”

         It took a while, but eventually Oliver met my gaze. I eased the pressure of my hand on his chest, conveying through my touch that there was no need for defensiveness. Not with me.  

         “Do you feel like Noah is not spending enough time with you?” 

         Something crossed his eyes. 

         “Love, I swear it’s not that…” Oliver began, his voice softer now. I raised my hand, gesturing to silence him. 

         “I think the root of the problem lies with me,” I continued, turning my head to look at Noah. His chest was rising heavily, his nostrils flaring. If I hadn’t got out of the shower at the time I did, I might have made it downstairs to find him turned into a dragon. This was not the anger that he exuded on stage. This was real. This was raw. And it wasn’t nice. “I’ve been demanding too much from you without allowing you both the space to explore your own emotions and feelings toward each other.”

         Noah chuckled, and I glared at him. 

         “I think we made it clear plenty of times that we’re okay with this, being the three of us together,” Noah added. 

         “Yeah, but… There’s a line that you haven’t crossed. Every time it’s there, you both recoil, as if scared to cross it.”

         “We’re not scared,” Oliver was quick to say, his tone laced with bravado.  

         Noah had the same expression on his face, which told me that they were going to make this harder than required for me and for themselves.

         “Then, why are you shouting at each other? Why are you making such a fuss about something that could be solved in five minutes if you sit down and talk like the adults you are?” 

         “Because it’s not about that,” Oliver retorted.

         I raised an eyebrow.

         “You’re jealous,” I said. “Not jealous of Noah spending more time with me. Not jealous of Noah getting to eat me out. You’re jealous because he’s not sucking your cock.” 

         Oliver started saying my name, his cheeks flushed, but stopped midway, frozen. When I looked at Noah, he had an identical expression etched his face, and when his eyes crossed Oliver’s, they both looked away. 

         This would have been funny —cute, even— if it weren’t for how angry they were. I knew better than to make fun of their behavior when they were fuming and one step away from becoming rottweilers. 

         “And you’re just angry because you don’t know how to channel those emotions,” I continued telling Oliver, “and instead of telling that to Noah straight away or getting on your knees, you decide to shout at him and accuse him of monopolizing my time.” 

         “Because he is! Are you taking his side?”

         “That’s not what I’m doing,” I replied, turning to Noah. “You—.”

         “What have I done?! Is it my fault that we were born in America and live in the same city?” He exclaimed, raising his arms in the air. 

         I ignored his comment. 

         “You know exactly where his feelings come from because you feel the same! And instead of being honest with him, and with me, you shout back at him as if he was your enemy.”

         “You didn’t hear the things he said to me ten minutes ago,” Noah chided. 

         I didn’t want to know. I just wanted to know if Oliver had been serious.  

         “Did you mean them?” I asked Oliver. “Did you really mean them?”

         “No,” he admitted, resignation evident as he dropped his shoulders. 

         I sighed, hopeful that this meant we were getting somewhere; that I’d be able to bring back the peace. I had to admit, though, that the ambience had been tense since before Noah and I arrived. The last videocall between Noah and Oliver hadn’t been very nice, and the strain between them had lingered since then. I could have noticed, but instead I ignored it, selfishly focusing on the thought that I would get to have them both together again in a matter of days, as soon as our flight landed in London. 

         “Can we sit down so that we can discuss this calmly?” I urged, exasperation creeping into my voice.

         “No,” they both replied in unison, their synchronized loud response startling me.

         My eyes widened. I sighed, hard, feeling a mix of irritation and desperation. 

         “Fine, do it your way, but I will sit down.” I relented. I tightened the towel around my body and settled on the sofa. Their brief, shared glance at my bare legs didn’t escape my notice, but it was quickly overshadowed by the tension in the room.  

         “Is anyone else happy in this relationship besides me?” I asked with my arms folded defensively against the chill creeping into my body.  

         “Yes. I am,” Noah replied. “I’m happy, too, but this moron here fails to see it. He fails to see everything I did for this to work. I could’ve had you all to myself if—.”

         “There it is!” Oliver exploded, cutting off Noah’s words with the sharp edge of his tongue.  

         “Noah!” I admonished him, my tone and look conveying my disapproval at his choice of words. He shouldn’t have said that, regardless of whether it held any truth. He should not have said that.  

         “Oh, come on,” he retorted. “Don’t twist it now. I wouldn’t be here in this house if I wasn’t okay with what we have. I told you I’m okay with you fucking her,” he said to Oliver. “She loves you fucking her. And getting her to do what she loves matters to me more than anything else.”

         “It shouldn’t be like that,” I murmured softly. 

         Noah simply gazed at me. I could tell he was tired. He didn’t want to argue, but the complexities of his and Oliver’s dynamic had ensnared them in a tangled mess.

         “It’s clear that you two love fucking me, and I definitely love it, too, so no need to go through this again. Boys,” I changed my position, kneeling on the sofa cushions to meet their eyes with a pleading look, “do you doubt what I feel for you? I have no room for a single doubt regarding your feelings for me, but I’m willing to talk if any of you feel that I don’t love you enough, or that I favor one over the other.” 

         “Kitten…” Noah began, but it was Oliver’s fingers the ones that reached my chin. 

         “You’re everything we could’ve ever asked for. You haven’t done anything wrong, doll.” 

         “What about each other? Do you doubt each other?” I pressed, feeling a pang of cold as Oliver’s touch left my skin. “You have to talk to each other,” I insisted. “We’re not moving forward until you do.”

         For a moment, I thought I did it. I thought that I managed to break through the barriers between them, that they would finally sit down and have an open, honest conversation.  

         But I was wrong.

         They exchanged glances, communicating silently as they waited for the other to make a move.

         I felt a growl building in my throat, frustration bubbling up inside me.   

         “Why are you being so macho? What’s the need for this?” I demanded. “I have no problem with you being all dominant and rough with me. But you can also be every other side of yourselves, and it won’t change the way I see you.”

         I could see my words chipping away at their defenses, but it still wasn’t enough. My frustration grew with each passing moment, a sense of helplessness settling over me as they remained locked in that stupid standoff. 

         As my words hung in the air, challenging their stubborn resolve, I expected some sign of surrender, a flicker of realization in their eyes. But instead, their stances remained rigid, their expressions hardened by the weight of their unspoken turmoil. Oliver’s jaw tightened even further, his brows furrowing in defiance, while Noah’s eyes darted away, a silent admission of discomfort.

         It was as though my words had ricocheted off their armored walls, leaving me standing alone in the battlefield. Despite my efforts to bridge the chasm between them, their refusal to let down their guard only fueled my frustration further, a searing flame of helplessness burning within me.

         With a heavy sigh, I realized that I had reached the limits of my influence. 

         “This is it? You prefer to keep ignoring the elephant in the room? Both of you? For God’s sake… All right,” I stood up, crossing between their bodies and heading towards the stairs. Luna suddenly trailing behind me in a hurried way. Turning away, my footsteps heavy with disappointment, I left them to solve the problem on their own. “You can sleep in the sofa tonight. Or, I’ll take the sofa and you can take… the bed or the floor. I don’t care, but I’m not going to be a part of this anymore until the three of us are finally on the same boat. You’re being dicks to each other, and the three of us are going to pay for the consequences, eventually.”

         Standing there was like watching a slow-motion collision, where each avoided the inevitable crash, preferring the tension to confrontation. My outburst was a last-ditch effort, a desperate plea to break through the thick walls of pride and insecurity that kept them at odds. But as I stormed out, leaving them to their stubborn silence, I couldn't shake the sinking feeling that this impasse would persist until they found the courage to confront the truth they both feared.

I woke up to the chill of two empty sides on the bed, and a pang of loneliness pierced my chest. When I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I could see the sadness etched into every line of my face. 

         I washed away the traces of sleep and decided to make the bed, a subconscious effort to delay facing the reality awaiting me downstairs. 

         They hadn’t come upstairs to sleep. Oliver entered the bedroom around 8pm to grab some clothes and retrieve his and Noah’s toothbrush from the bathroom, and I couldn’t help but be speechless at how dramatic they were being.  

         Thirty minutes later, having attempted and failed to find some peace and strength in a short meditation on the balcony, I went downstairs with hushed footsteps. 

         I started preparing breakfast, not aiming to disturb their sleep, but the soft hum of the coffee machine and the clinking of plates and cups echoing in the open kitchen stirred Noah from his slumber. On the other side of the sofa, Oliver lay sprawled on his back, his hair tousled. As the deep sleeper he was, he only stirred slightly before settling back into his restful state. 

         I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. It seemed that at least one of us managed to get some decent rest, even if it was on the couch.  

         As Noah propped himself up on his forearms, his gaze drifted over to Oliver’s form, then down to the middle of the sofa where their legs lay entangled, hidden beneath the shared blanket.  The sight of their bodies occupying the entire sofa would have brought a smile to my lips were it not for the reason why they had spent the night there. I could only imagine them moving around and kicking each other during the night, adding another silly unnecessary thing to the pile of stuff they had been arguing about the evening before. 

         With a heavy sigh, Noah finally sat up and ran a hand through his face and hair.  

         “Morning,” he grumbled.

         “Morning,” I replied. 

         Noah took a quick bathroom break. When he came back, he walked with deliberate steps to where I was standing in the kitchen. He leaned in for a morning kiss that I was more than quick to give. He lingered by the kitchen isle to watch me make breakfast, accepting the coffee mug I offered and taking a sip while keeping his eyes on me. 

         “I expected you guys to come to bed at some point,” I said in a low voice, trying to conceal the twinge of hurt I felt at the fact that they had opted for sleeping on the couch instead of addressing their issues and joining me in bed. 

         “I wanted to,” Noah said, his voice tinged with regret, “but you made it clear that we needed to sort things out first, that you didn’t want us in bed with you if we didn’t, so…”

         I clicked my tongue, shaking my head. I placed my hands on the edge of the counter, exasperation crawling back to my bones. 

         “You know it wasn’t meant like that,” I sighed. “I was just trying to nudge you both into dealing with the real problem.”

         His silent response and the heaviness of his brown gaze on me confirmed my dreaded suspicion—he still wasn’t ready to. He still didn’t want to talk about it. Great.

         “Did you miss us?” He suddenly asked, breaking the silence. 

         Typical Noah. Whenever he knew he’d messed up, he’d try to sidestep the issue with softness instead of facing it head-on. I couldn’t help but be surprised that even after the heated argument we’d had the day before, he was still reluctant to confront the elephant in the room. 

         But when he looked at me with those puppy-dog eyes, I suddenly became weak. 

         “Every minute,” I admitted, a bittersweet smile forming on my lips. “I couldn’t sleep. I’m used to being sandwiched between you two now. I kept checking my phone, hoping for a text, and waiting for both of you to show up at the bedroom door,” I shook my head. “God, I’m turning into such a sap.”

         My words elicited a laugh from him, one of my favorite sounds in the morning.  

         “You’ve always been a sap,” he teased, leaving the coffee mug aside and pulling me close until his hands found my waist. With no effort at all, he lifted me onto the counter. 

         Grinning, I wrapped my arms around his neck, running my fingers through the silky hair at his nape. He stepped between my legs, and I relished in the familiar warmth of his body against mine in the chilled morning.  

         “Did you talk?” I inquired softly, obviously referring to him and Oliver. 

         “Not much, to be honest,” he admitted. His forehead found mine as he leaned in. “I don’t know what to do.”

         Allowing a moment for him to relax in my arms, I gently brushed a loose strand of hair from his forehead after pulling back to meet his eyes. 

         “I know you two are aware that this is not a relationship based solely on you two dating me,” I began, my voice tender. “We’re all in this together. We’re all dating each other. But you and Oli are struggling to come to terms with it,” I made a pause, my eyes boring into his, “or with what it means.”

         A flash of insecurity crossed Noah’s face, his usual self-confidence momentarily faltering. My heart ached for him.  

         “I’ve never been with a man before, baby,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.  

         I nodded, understanding without him needing to explain. Of course I knew. 

         “I had never been with two men,” I started to say, reaching out to touch his cheek gently, “but here I am, utterly in love and happy with both of them,” I tried to summon a reassuring smile, but Noah’s insecurity lingered, prompting me to continue speaking. “It was scary at first. I spent weeks worrying about what would happen, especially when we flew back home after Europe. But everything is so wonderful now, and I wish to keep it that way, but for that, we need the whole package, Noah. And that includes you and Oliver giving each other what you’re missing out,” I playfully bopped his nose, but he flinched, giving me an annoyed look. All right. “Also, I don’t think Oli’s ever been with another man, either” I added, glancing toward his sleeping form on the sofa. “So, it would be a first time for both of you.” 

         “Would you… like that? Oli and me?” Noah’s voice wavered with uncertainty. 

         I reached for a biscuit from a plate beside me, taking a bite and chewing slowly. After licking some crumbs from the corner of my lips, I casually rubbed the heel of my socked foot against the back of Noah’s thigh.

         “I’ve been thinking about sitting in the armchair in the bedroom and watch you and Oliver do nasty things to each other,” I said with a mischievous grin. 

         Noah narrowed his eyes at me.

         “You’re a naughty girl, you know that?”

         His teasing remark brought back a sense of normalcy, making me feel a bit relieved for the first time that morning after a restless night. 

         “So I’ve been told,” I replied nonchalantly, taking another bite of the biscuit. 

         Noah took the remaining biscuit from my hand and returned it to the plate before kissing me slowly, his hand cupping my cheek and his fingers tucking my hair behind my ear as our lips melded together. 

         “It’d make me really happy to see you together,” I said, placing my hands on his face and pulling back slightly to meet his gaze directly, “but I know it would make you and Oli even happier. You’re hungry for each other. I’ve seen it in the way you look at him and the way he looks at you. The sex is amazing, and we’re all satisfied, but you’re just dying to taste him and you’re too shy to make a move. Same with him, which is unusual,” I continued, drawing out my words as I shrugged my shoulders, “given how carefree he is with everything he says and does, including those impromptu cat walks when he’s wearing that silly maid outfit.” 

         We shared a laugh, the tension dissipating further before indulging in another lingering kiss. This was Noah’s way of seeking reassurance, and I was more than happy to oblige and give it to him. I would give him as many kisses as he needed. 

         “This is where all this tension is coming from”, I concluded, my voice softening once again. 

         Noah’s chest rose with a heavy sigh that said he finally admitted it. He released the breath he had been holding just as Luna appeared at our side, her eyes pleading for her morning walk.

         “Can you wait a bit, darling? We’ll take you out in a few minutes,” I said to her. 

         “I’ll take her out now,” came Oliver’s unexpected voice. 

         Noah and I startled at the interruption, Noah moving away from me as if caught in something criminal. Despite reaching out to him, my eyes focused on Oliver. 

         Oliver excused himself to go to the bathroom before I could open my mouth. He was still upset about what happened the night before, and I guess he didn’t like seeing me in Noah’s arms first thing in the morning, especially since that’s what started the arguments the day prior. 

         I reminded myself to stay calm. I’d have to go through the same talk with him to get him to the same place where Noah was.   

         “Oliver,” I said, my voice gentle yet firm. 

         “What?” came his response, edged with tension. He avoided looking at Noah. 

         Seeing them like this broke my heart and infuriated me simultaneously.  

         “You and Noah need to talk. Right now,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. 

         The whole situation was dripping with irony. I wanted to shout back at Oliver all the things he had preached about before we started this relationship—all that talk about communication being paramount to make this work. Where was all that now? 

         “We can talk later,” he replied, attempting to evade the conversation by calling out for Luna, who happily trotted towards her dad, tongue out and tail wagging. 

         “No,” I asserted, holding my ground. “You two are going to talk right now,” I insisted, positioning myself at a fair distance between both so it wouldn’t seem like I was taking sides.  “I swear, if either of you keeps dragging this out without reason, I will get on the first flight back to Los Angeles. So, decide right now. Do you want me to leave?” I directed the question to both of them. “Or do you want more? What’s it going to be?” 

         Oliver dropped his shoulders in resignation, a small victory amidst the tension. Noah was standing behind me. I could tell that he was ready to get it together and be honest with Oliver and with himself, but he would keep holding back until it was clear that Oliver was in the same boat. 

         Setting Luna’s leash down in the kitchen isle, Oliver caused Luna to drop her tail and tilt her head in confusion. Wasn’t he going to take her out? I made a mental note to go out with her later for a long walk, but right now, Oliver and Noah needed to have the conversation they’d been avoiding for months. 

          Oliver let himself fall onto the sofa, pushing the blanket that he and Noah had used during the night to the side without bothering to fold it. His green eyes met mine. Then, his gaze finally shifted to Noah. 

         “Come here,” Oliver said to Noah, patting the spot next to him. 

         Noah sat next to him, a huff coming out from him, his arms resting unpreoccupied between his legs. It took him a moment to turn his head toward Oliver, but when he did…

         They held each other’s gazes for a while. I don’t know what they felt in that moment, but I was certainly feeling the anticipation, my heartbeat increasing with each passing second. 

         Oliver raised his arm and then his fingers were touching Noah’s chin and lower lip. There was a question in his eyes, something that only they knew what it meant. 

         Then, they leaned into each other, and they kissed. 

         My breath caught in my throat, but as their mouths moved against each other, I found myself flooded by a sense of relief and… excitement. Was this supposed to be wrong? It definitely didn’t feel like it. I was enjoying it very much, feeling pride for my boys and pride at myself for having achieved this. 

         Though they appeared entirely oblivious to my presence in the room, their movements seemed to align with the path I hoped they would follow. 

         As I contemplated where to position myself to observe the unfolding scene in that summer morning, Noah sank to his knees between Oliver’s legs, deftly undoing the laces of his sweatpants until he slid them down, taking his underwear along with them to his ankles. 

         A muttered curse escaped Oliver’s lips, betraying all the tension that had been following us since days prior. 

         Noah raised his eyes at him before daring to put his hands on his length. 

         “Is this what you want?” Noah asked him. 

         If he really wanted an answer, he didn’t wait for it. 

         His mouth swallowed his length, and within seconds, Oliver was leaning back on the sofa, clutching at the pillows with clenched fists, his lips parted in a mixture of pain and pleasure. 

         Had I imagined this scenario before today? Yes, I had, but never had I voiced it aloud, nor di I anticipate witnessing it, in all honesty, especially not amidst the chaos of the day’s events. 

         I was about to climb onto the counter to get a better view of Noah pleasuring Oliver when Oliver’s green eyes caught mine. 

         “Doll,” his voice was ragged, breathless, “why don’t you come over here and join us?” 

         Uncertain of his intentions, I approached them cautiously, licking my lips. Oliver gestured toward the corner of the room, his chest rising and falling as Noah continued his ministrations between his legs.  

         “Jesus Christ,” Oliver muttered before mustering the strength to focus back on me. “Doll, sit down and touch yourself. Don’t stand there watching us. This isn’t some damn show.”

          Noah hadn’t even lifted his head from Oliver’s lap, his attention entirely consumed by the task at hand, when he said, “Do it. Now.”

         Taking a deep breath, I settled onto the corner of the sofa, positioning myself to their view. Oliver’s gaze roamed over me, his struggle evident as Noah continued, relentless. 

         “Feet on the sofa. Panties off. Let me see you,” Oliver instructed, his voice restrained, indicating he was not far from the edge. 

         I complied, feeling a slight shyness creeping in. This was a scenario none of us were accustomed to. Slowly, I parted my legs, and Oliver raised an expectant eyebrow, silently urging me on. Without hesitation, I grasped the hem of my oversized shirt and lifted it, revealing the black thong I wore underneath. 

         “I said—” His voice was cut off abruptly as Noah took him deeper, to the back of his throat, “off,” Oliver growled, his demand leaving no room for negotiation. 

         With a quick movement, I lifted my hips and removed my thong, spreading my legs open to their gaze. As my fingers found their way to my clit, tracing soft circles around it, I sensed that we were in for a wild morning.  

         Barely two minutes into the act, Oliver let out a primal growl, his head thrown back, hands gripping Noah’s hair tightly as he pressed him against his crotch. With a soft ‘pop’, Noah released him, drawing in a deep breath and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. 

         “Don’t tell me that was your first,” Oliver said, “because there’s no way I’m going to believe you.”

         Noah chuckled, his laughter momentarily dissipating the heat in the room. The sound would have relieved whatever remnants of tension and fear remained inside of me were it not for the fact that I was about to come myself. 

         “Definitely a first time,” Noah replied with a tilt of his head. Then, as if sensing my arousal, he turned his head towards me, and his smile fell. 

         He stood up, his hungry faze traveling from my face down to my exposed pussy. He had been so focused on Oliver that he hadn’t noticed the spectacle unfolding on the other side of the sofa. 

         Without uttering a word, Noah walked towards me. He didn’t need to bend down or extend an arm; he simply removed my hand and then, he just… touched me. 

         “You’re a mess,” he acknowledged, his fingers dragging slowly through my folds. 

         He brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted me, causing the burning sensation inside of me to only intensify, threatening to consume me if I didn’t get their hands on me in the next few seconds. 

         “Oli,” Noah called out, glancing over his shoulder. “You good? She needs to be rewarded, don’t you think?”  

         “Sure she does,” he agreed, pulling up his sweatpants and running a hand through his hair. “Sit back,” he told Noah. “I’m going to enjoy this. Doll, do you want to ride Noah?” 

         “I don’t think you have to ask,” Noah added, a grin spreading across his face as he extended his arm towards me. 

         Grasping his hand, I moved myself onto his lap. Noah’s hands found my hips beneath the hem of my t-shirt, while Oliver took hold of my right hand, bringing it to his lips. 

         “You need to be rewarded for doing so good to us.”

         “Right?!” I exclaimed, raising my eyebrows at him with a smile. It wasn’t lost on me that he had been denying his desire for Noah to pleasure him for months. These men and their stubbornness… 

         “And you’re such a good, good girl to us.”

         “She is,” Noah agreed, his voice a whisper as his hands guided me onto one of his thighs, pressing me down against him, my dampness spreading onto the fabric of his sweatpants. 

         “Oh.”

         “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Come on, baby. Use me,” he urged, his hands steadying me with a firm grip on my hips. 

         “But…” I began, my face flushing crimson. 

         “I’ll fuck you in a moment, but I want you to use me first,” he insisted, his voice filled with desire.  

          Feeling self-conscious under the intense scrutiny of both men’s gazes, I opted to press my mouth to Noah’s as I began to grind against his thigh. He tasted like Oliver and the experience made me dizzy. Noah swallowed my moans eagerly, while Oliver urged me to go faster, his hand caressing my ass enticingly as I moved myself on top of Noah. 

         Lost in a haze of pleasure, at some point Oliver grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me towards him so that he could kiss me passionately, allowing Noah a breather.

         Eventually, I became a whimpering mess, my hands sliding down to find Noah’s bulge. I stroked it a few times with my open palm before deciding I couldn’t wait any longer. With deft fingers, I unlaced him and freed his cock. 

         Noah’s hand in my waist steadied me. 

         “You sure about this?” The question was directed to Oliver. There was concern in his voice. 

         Oliver dismissed it with a shake of his head. “That pussy is not going anywhere. It’s ours. So go on. Take her.”

         Noah nodded. I whined in his arms, hoping that he would just let me get him inside of him. 

         “Condom?” He asked, still directing his questions to Oli.

         Oliver disappeared briefly, returning with a condom package that he handed to Noah. However, I took it from his fingers. 

         “I’ll do it,” I offered, taking the package and swiftly sliding the condom onto Noah’s cock. 

         Lifting my hips slightly, I positioned myself above him and sank down, moaning softly, a melody that echoed in Noah’s ears and Oliver’s too. 

         “God, you’re so beautiful,” Oliver murmured in awe, watching each of my expressions like a hawk.  

         Resting my head on Noah’s shoulder, I began to move my hips in a rhythmic motion, gliding up and down, front to back, performing a dance on top of him that ignited a bigger fire inside of me. The intensity heightened when Oliver sneaked a hand between our bodies, his fingers finding my clit with precision. 

         “Come for us, babygirl,” Oliver said, his voice a seductive whisper. 

         Unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure, I surrendered to the sensations, especially as I felt Noah pulsating inside of me. His grip tightened on my hip, his other hand tangling in my hair as he pressed his face against my neck, emitting a primal roar against my skin as he released himself into the condom. 

         I dug my nails on his shoulders through his t-shirt as my own orgasm crashed over me, the waves of pleasure overwhelming me as Noah’s pulses still filled me up and Oliver’s fingers continued their relentless assault on my clit. 

         It took me a moment to find my voice amidst the euphoria. I asked Noah if he was okay, and he responded with a sloppy kiss on my jaw, a bright smile spreading across his face afterward. 

         I glanced at Oliver, who was watching us with admiration despite our dishevelled state. Not that he looked much better himself. 

         After nuzzling against Noah’s chest for a moment, I shifted myself towards Oliver. Wrapping my arms around his neck, half of my body still remained in Noah’s lap. Noah lifted my shirt to uncover my ass, giving it a playful slap before caressing it and dropping his head back with a contented sigh. 

         “Good talk,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice and eliciting laughter from all of us. 

         “Yeah,” Oliver agreed with a chuckle. “We should have more breakfasts like this.”

         Our moment of levity was abruptly interrupted by Luna’s barking. 

         She stood in the doorway, looking frustrated that we had completely forgotten about her. 

         “Oh, shit,” I said.

         Yeah, our bad habits were just about to get worse. 

Taglist: 

@girlfromrussia-universe | @oro-e-diamanti | @lma1986 | @missduffsblog | @bngurngheart | @winterwinchester | @jilliemiw86 | @sorrowsofsilence | @th4t-em0-k1d | @to-be-written | @thescarlettvvitch | @nonamessblog | @somebodyels3 | @starsomens | @ditto66 | @dominuslunae | @cookiesupplier | @midnight-eternals | @pennysky | @iknownothingpeople | @cncohshit | @ladyveronikawrites | @blackveilomens | @robabankfuckmickeymouse | @kageyasma | @concretedaddy2018 | @silentglassbreak | @thescarlettvvitch | @sammyjoeee | If you want to be tagged in the next bonus scene + epilogue, just let me know :)

[anticanonsposts]

heyyyyy

can you do sum with the task force 141 going out to train in a BIG ASS field but Yn used to be a cheerleader so she starts busting out handspring’s and the 141 is just flabbergasted

also I LUV YOUR HEAD CANNONS SM

mwaaa !!

ok yes ofc babe, i did make it slightly könig centric, but still included a few of the other guys 

Cw: none?? sfw allusion to sexual behaviors at the end a little bit so a little nsfw

Sooooo

141 gets to the newest training facility and there happens to be a very large open several acre sized field that you can only imagine is going to be used for some horrific suicide runs or drills of some sort

after everyone gets settled, and trained on what they will be doing when recruits arrive the next day you all go out to the field for lunches

you ofc sit with your affectionately named ‘bunk buddy’ König, who you weren’t officially dating because of fear it might negatively affect your jobs but you guys banged like bunnies and he was completely enamored with you

anyways

you’re minding your own business, eating your sandwich, listening to König ramble on about some new obstacle drill he wants to try out when you hear maybe the cockiest out of the 141, Soap, get a little too noisy

‘Mate there is no way you could do backflips on this terrain….My arse soap!!!’ 

clearly the men a few feet away were having a heated debate on each other’s skill sets

getting a wicked idea, you continue eating your lunch, listening to König, tell yourself that you won’t go there, its not worth it

that is until Ghost gets a little too boisterous saying ‘oh you really think anyone here can do that? That would take years of training dumbass’ he was directing his speech towards Soap and Price but he did say ‘anyone here’ 

calmly you ask König if you can show him something cool, and of course he says yes

So you get up and try to remember a combination that you often did when you were younger during cheer practice 

Taking one last deep breath you perform a mix of front flips, back handsprings, twists, turns, you name it before landing dozens of feet away from where you started

when i say it was silent

it was deafening 

peripherally you could see nearly everyone’s mouth completely agape, other than Ghoast whose jaw is clenched out of what you can only imagine is pure jealousy

it felt good, you won’t lie, to be envied, for your skills to be on display

you felt like you were still having to prove yourself, your worth, your skills for the group 

then with a shit eating grin, not looking at anyone else you sauntered back up to König who had stood up at this point, grabbed his hand and started making your way back to the facility

all you could hear behind you were explanations of ‘bloody hell, oh my god, I can’t believe it, eat shit ghost’

‘You truly are a marvel’ könig says looking down at you, shyly grinning

‘Why don’t i show you other ways I can be that flexible’ you reply which makes this man audibly gulp as you skip with him to your room 

hehe i hope this was at least kind of what you wanted (i truly don’t know shit about the other characters lol) 

that being said, my requests are still open <3333

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the very first night

words: 700

warnings: toxic work environment

you’re rushing as quickly as you can, balancing two drink carriers, filled with coffee, some piping hot, others iced. you took everyones orders before you left the office, knowing if you didn’t get back quickly, before the ice had melted is what one of the bosses has said, that you would get in trouble. you were already running behind, the starbucks being incredibly busy.

you blame your nerves for not looking where you’re going. you briefly think that you’ve walked into a telephone pole, or maybe a street sign, but you realize mid fall it’s a hard body. you land on the ground, the drinks flying out of your arms, raining down on you in a mix of espresso and chocolate.

“fuck!” the figure shouts. somehow you missed getting any of your coffee on him, but his own coffee did spill a bit on his shirt, ruining the crisp white button down.

“i’m so sorry, i wasn’t looking i-” you can’t even finish your sentence as you let out a sob. the stress of your internship, mixing with his mishap, has you unable to hold back tears. 

“are you hurt?” the man bends down, and you get a real look at him through your tears. he’s handsome, probably close in age to yourself, with sandy blonde hair falling on either side of his forehead.

you shake your head no, but let out another sob, and it looks like he doesn’t believe you, giving a scan over your body. 

“i’m not mad.” he says, grabbing some of the coffee cups that now litter the ground, attempting to put them back in the carrier, but you know it’s pointless. too much time has passed and too much has spilled. you’re no doubt going to be fired from your internship.

“it’s not that.” you shake your head, trying to fling some of the coffee off your clothes. pointless. “that-” you have to take a deep breath to prevent yourself from crying again. “that was all for work. i’m an intern and they’re going to fire me now.” 

the man frowns, brows creasing together. “they’re going to fire you for an accident?” he asks, and you just nod. you know they will. they were a fast paced company, and don’t accept mistakes.

“i’m sorry.” the man sighs, then sticks out his hand. “i’m rafe.” “y/n.” you mutter his name, shaking his hand. you move to your feet, rafe rising with you. you look down out your outfit, brown splotches all over your previously pink dress.

“what company is this that would fire an intern for not bringing coffee back quick enough?” rafe asks.

you tell him the name, starting to pick up the cups to throw them in the trash. no point even going back now. you don’t want to face anyone, looking like this.

the corners of rafes mouth fall down into a frown. he helps throw a couple of the cups into a nearby trash can, including his own. he doesn’t feel like drinking it anymore.

“sorry again about your shirt.” you say with a sigh.

“it’s really no problem.” the shirt looks expensive, but rafe also looks like the type of guy to be able to afford staining a nice shirt.

“well. time to go figure out what i’m going to do with my life now.” it’s not like you enjoyed interning at that company anyways, and you certainly don’t want to work there full time, but it was your plan for the summer until college starts.

“hey.” rafe stops you before you can walk away. “let me give you my number, yeah? you can let me know how it turns out and i know a lot of the businessmen in town. i can help you find a better internship.”

“really?” you squeak. “you’d do that for me?” 

“of course”

-- three months later --

“rafe!” you shout, running up to him. you hold your phone in your hand, and read the headline out loud “cameron enterprises buys local company.”

rafe just smirks. “mhm.” “you bought the company that fired me. i know it was you who convinced your dad.” “it’s a good business move.” rafe shrugs. you’re not entirely sure how true that is. the company certainly wasn’t a serious competitor.

“but that’s not why was it?” you ask.

“not at all.” rafe smiles full on now, pulling you into him, pressing a kiss against your lips. “as soon as i saw the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen sitting on the ground, crying and covered in coffee, i knew i would end that company.”

[foliosriot]

SCREAM

ghostface!noah sebastian x reader

WARNINGS!!

talk of death and murder. brief knife-play. vaginal fingering. p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it, my friends). pre-kink. fear-play i guess. non-con but becomes con. please let me know if i missed anything else! 18+ only MDNI or i’ll block you.

TAGS!!

@starsomens @cncohshit @concretenoah + everyone else who didn’t know they needed ghostface!noah in their lives hehe

AUTHOR’S NOTE!!

happy halloween, my fellow noah whores >:)

masterlist

You will admit: the recent string of murders have had your guts twisted with fear and anxiety. Because what if it’s someone you know next? What if it’s one of your friends? What if it’s you?

It has been terrifying just trying to exist the past week and a half. Three people were already dead, and who knows when the next person would be found mutilated? The last one was just down the street from you, for fuck’s sake! What’s stopping that masked psycho from claiming every other life — including yours — on your street?

Nothing, you’re sure. Serial killers are hardly ever satisfied. And this one is absolutely fucking insatiable.

However, right now, it’s a little hard to think about a psychotic killer with your boyfriend looking the way he does. He’s standing in your little kitchen, a mug of tea in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea if you stay over, Noah,” you finally manage to say. Noah had asked if he could stay over for the night what felt like an eternity ago. You had struggled to comprehend what he had said, and were only able to respond when your best friend and roommate, Olivia, had walked up next to you.

“Why not?” Noah asks, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.

“There’s a murderer on the loose, remember, dickhead?” Olivia snaps at him. “I would rather not come back to find my best friend all dead and bloody, then adding you into the mix just to make it worse.”

Olivia had a family reunion she had to go to, something that had been planned in advance long before any of the murders had taken place. She wasn’t able to get out of it, nor was she able to convince her parents to let you tag along, even though they love you like you were their own. She was heading to the airport later tonight and coming back in two days.

You watch Noah shoot a glare at Olivia as he says, “Yeah, I’m aware there’s a murderer on the loose. But I, also, would rather not come back here to see my girlfriend dead.”

As Olivia is clearly gearing up to launch herself into a heated debacle with Noah, you stop her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Guys, I’ll be fine,” you assure them, hoping they can’t hear the waver in your voice. “After I take Olivia to the airport I’ll lock the doors and windows, turn off all the lights, then sleep with my dad’s old baseball bat next to my bed. Besides, Noah has a label meeting early tomorrow morning, so he should just head home to get some sleep for once.”

Neither of them look particularly convinced. But the mention of the metal bat seems to be enough for their tense limbs to relax.

This is the exact reason your dad gave you his bat when you first moved out, anyways. He wanted you to be safe and to protect yourself in case of an emergency. And this seems to be an emergency worthy of the beloved metal bat.

Olivia sighs dramatically from beside you. “Fine. The bat is better than nothing.” She returns Noah’s glare. “You better be gone by the time we leave for the airport in an hour.”

Noah clenches his jaw. “Got it,” he says.

With an annoyed grumble, Olivia turns on her heel and stomps towards her bedroom. Your boyfriend and your best friend have never really gotten along, simply because they both want what’s best for you and they both tend to believe they know exactly what that is. They butt heads a lot when it comes to you. Thankfully, they know they can’t have you without the other, so it’s become a resigned acceptance between them, however uncomfortable they may be about it.

You are finally able to relax your shoulders after you hear Olivia shut her door with a loud thud. Olivia is very overprotective of you and would just have you attached at the hip if she could. But sometimes her worry is suffocating. Like now. So you know she just needs a few minutes to herself before she gets on her flight.

“Did you have to be such an asshole?” you say to Noah.

“How was I being an asshole?” Noah fires back as he sets his mug down by the sink.

“You never seem to know when to stop antagonizing Olivia.”

“Well, excuse me for being worried about your safety. She’s not the only one who gets a say in this shit.”

“And you do?” you scoff, resting your hands on your hips. “So would you be okay with me unlocking every door and opening every window? Turn on each light so I’m just a fucking beacon for the murderer to come and get me next?”

Noah narrows his eyes as he stares at you. You’re now beginning to forget any thought of a psycho killer, and instead thinking of letting Noah stay tonight anyways. Let him keep you safe while also letting him do whatever he wants to you. The idea is very enticing.

“But if you don’t want that to happen, just stay the night, ‘cause I know you want to,” you encourage Noah, a small smirk making its way onto your face. “You’ll still be there for the label meeting. Olivia doesn’t have to know. Come over and keep me safe.”

Silence falls around you. Noah just continues to look at you with a dark gleam in his eyes, and you can feel a white hot knot beginning to coil down in the depths of your stomach. You shift slightly under his gaze.

“You’re being a brat.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you spit at him immediately, knowing with 100% certainty that he is going to make you pay for that comment.

“I will if you stop being a fucking brat,” Noah counters sharply. “Unless you want to keep being one, and end up being punished for it.”

You remain where you’re standing. You have zero intentions on obeying Noah, nor do you plan on dropping the bratty act. Noah loves it when you’re being a bratty bitch and defying his orders, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it. You know what it does to him, so why stop?

“Stay tonight.”

Noah doesn’t say anything. His eyes remain fixed on you, and you can feel the searing sensation of his irises roving over every inch of your body. You shift once more, hoping he doesn’t catch the movement, but you know he does.

“Come here.”

His tone is almost casual. It catches you slightly off-guard that he appears to be mildly bored, when he would normally be demanding you to approach. But you’re feeling defiant, because what is he gonna do if he doesn’t get dominant with you?

“No, I’m okay,” you say with a sickly sweet smile. “I’m not feeling very passive at the moment. Thank you, though.”

That earns you a glare. You can see the way Noah takes a grounding deep breath as his gaze darkens even more. You watch him cross his tattooed arms over his chest as he settles his weight back against the kitchen counter. He angles his head downwards, his eyes still trained on you.

God, is he trying to scare you? Because if that’s the case, he needs to rethink his fear tactics.

“I’m not afraid of you, Noah,” you practically scoff at him.

“Have I ever given you reason to be afraid of me?” he asks lowly. The tenor of his voice hums in your ears.

“No.”

Noah doesn’t say anything in response. He just continues staring at you intently, his dark gaze fixed on you wholly. You aren’t able to detect any emotion in his eyes or facial features. If you couldn’t see the subtle rise and fall of his chest you’d think he were a statue — a man carved from marble with numerous, intricate paintings spanning across the beautiful stone.

As the silence drags on you begin to grow uncomfortable. Noah staring at you isn’t what’s causing you discomfort; no, it’s the anticipation and sense of the unknown he’s letting fall over you. You roll your bottom lip into your mouth and begin chewing on the skin.

But then the corner of his mouth twitches upward. The action is sly and riddled with intention.

“Then I won’t start now,” he finally says. “Unless you want me to.”

His word choice is deliberate, each one laced with a level of teasing you don’t think you have ever heard come out of Noah’s mouth. He knows what he’s doing. And he knows it is finally getting to you in the way he had initially wanted.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Noah asks. His voice is firmer as he speaks. “You gonna come over here like a good girl … or will I be giving you a reason to be afraid of me? Either way it’ll be worth it, I’m sure. But hey, your choice, princess.”

Now, there is the commanding voice you had been expecting from the start. And your heart is pumping uncontrollably now. The pulse buried beneath the surface of your neck is throbbing and vibrating, making the blood roar loudly in your ears.

He’s giving you an obvious choice: admit you were being a brat and surrender. Or, run like your life depends on it. Because it might at some point, in a manner of speaking, you realize.

“Oh, but I don’t wanna scare you too bad,” Noah continues nonchalantly, like he’s talking about the weather or something. “Especially with that psycho killer on the loose and everything, y’know.”

You’re gonna kill him. He’s being a complete ass but being so unreasonably cool and collected about it. He knows he’s getting under your skin, burrowing further beneath your veins and tendons. It has you growing enraged and annoyed with his antics, despite that searing hot coil deep in your belly.

When Noah casually pushes away from the counter, you stagger back a few steps. His grin slowly grows as he makes his way in your direction. Your feet seem to be glued to the floor as Noah is now towering over you.

“You’re gonna pay for that, by the way,” he murmurs. He brings his hand up to your face, and grips your chin between his fingers. “But not tonight. You said it yourself, princess: I have a label meeting early in the morning.”

Noah uses his grip on your chin to tug your face towards his. Your lips meet in the middle, and Noah already has his tongue in your mouth before you can process what’s happening. And you have half a brain to kiss him back, but he’s pulled away by the time you manage to catch up. You can’t control the whine that bubbles up from your throat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Noah says with a grin. “I love you.”

Then he’s stepping out of your space and leaving through the front door.

He leaves you breathing heavily. You nearly sprint outside and stop Noah from leaving when you hear someone walking up behind you.

“Oh, good. He’s gone.” Olivia’s voice nearly startles you. “I’ve got my stuff ready so let’s just go now. I don’t wanna get stuck in traffic.”

You nod in acknowledgement, but your brain feels fried. Your entire nervous system just got short circuited because Noah thought it would be fun to mess with you. He knows you want him to stay over while Olivia’s gone. And, you know he wants to stay over. So why did he just blow you off like that?

You don’t give yourself time to think it over before you’re following Olivia outside. You let Olivia drown you in conversation on the drive to the airport. She doesn’t appear to notice your weird behavior, or, if she has noticed, she doesn’t mention it.

But then she’s getting out of the car with her bags and you’re hugging her and you watch as she walks inside the airport and leaves you behind.

You feel like screaming.

The drive home feels like a blur. You wish you would be arriving home to see Noah waiting for you, but the house is empty. Annoyance strikes your intestines as you do what you promised initially: lock the doors, close the windows, turn off all the lights, put baseball bat at bedside.

It still feels wrong somehow. You want Noah with you, even though he has that meeting very early in the morning. In order to remedy his absence you tug on one of his sweatshirts before climbing into bed.

The next day drags on. Olivia had texted you when her flight landed and when she was reunited with her family. Noah had sent a good morning text and nothing else. You were growing increasingly angry as the hours ticked by.

You were off work today, so you had the entire day to do what you want. But your brain was vibrating with anxiety and had you stuck on the couch. You were able to get through an entire season of your favorite show, though! It still didn’t feel right.

The sun had long since fallen beyond the horizon by the time you’re rummaging through the kitchen to find something to eat for dinner. You settle on making some mac ‘n cheese, and get to work.

You’re pouring the small pot of hot noodles and water into the colander that sits in the sink when the phone rings. Another thing your dad had insisted on when you moved out: a fucking landline phone. You thought it was ridiculous, but you had humored him anyways by getting one.

With the noodles in the colander and the hot metal pot set aside you reach for the phone. You press answer and stick it between your ear and shoulder as you continue making your dinner.

“Hello?”

“Hello?”

“Can I help you?”

“Who are you?”

“I dunno, who are you trying to reach?”

“I’m not sure.”

“That’s okay. Must be wrong number. Don’t worry — it happens.”

You’re quick to transfer the phone back in to your hand and end the call. Dialing the wrong number happens all the time, so the oddity of it doesn’t irk you.

Not until you have the mac ‘n cheese all ready a couple minutes later and the landline rings once more. You furrow your eyebrows as you go to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have dialed the wrong number again.”

It’s that same voice. There’s a familiarity to it you can’t quite put your finger on.

“It’s alright. I’ll let you go so you can try again. Third time’s the charm, right?”

You’re about to put the phone down when the person on the other end stops you, saying, “Wait! Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?”

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“Just in case I accidentally call you again, of course.”

“Well, I’m confident you won’t. You’ve got this.”

“In the meantime, as I’m trying to remember the correct number, let’s play a game.”

You roll your eyes. “A game? Why?”

“‘Cause it’s fun,” the person says simply. “Plus, I think we’re friends now, so it’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“I guess…”

“Good. Answer a series of questions correctly and you win. Answer incorrectly, and I win.”

“What does the winner get?”

“Whatever they want.”

You consider this for a moment. Because what’s the harm in answering some meaningless questions from a stranger? But you find yourself anxiously rethinking your decision even as you agree.

“Good. I’ll give you a couple warm-up questions. Starting with: do you have a boyfriend?”

“I do.”

“Hm. Pity. What’s he like?”

“First you wanna know about me, and now my boyfriend?” You’re growing more and more irritated with every passing second you are on the phone with this person. “You planning on stealing him from me?”

“No, of course not. Just tell me about him.”

“Oh, my god. I’m hanging up now—“

“Hang up and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

The sheer aggression and violence that ripple through this stranger’s voice forces you to stop. The phone begins to gently rattle against your ear and you can’t suppress the shaking that overcomes your body. Panic is now flowing through your veins as you stand in your kitchen in silence.

“Good girl. Now, where were we? Right: tell me about your boyfriend.”

“Um, he… He has tattoos, a-and he’s really tall. Uh, he— He’s in a famous metal band, and—“

“Yeah? What band?”

“B-Bad Omens.”

“Oh, I know them. Don’t they sing that song Just Pretend?”

You nod, even though you know they can’t see you. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, that’s them,” you murmur.

“Well, let’s start the actual game, shall we? First question: your boyfriend was at a meeting this morning with his band and their label. Who’s their label?”

The question stuns you. You’re suddenly frozen in place and you can’t gather the air in your lungs to even breathe, let alone speak. How the fuck do they know that? Why do they want this information if they obviously already have it?

“S-Sumerian,” you choke out.

“Correct. Next question: what band member left before the production of their second album began?”

You now feel sick to your stomach. You suspect this has to be some crazed fan with an unhealthy obsession with Bad Omens. If that’s the case, they should know already know the answer to this particular question. So why are they asking you?

“Vincent.”

“Good. Final question: where am I?”

“Wh-What? What do you mean where are you?”

“Where. Am. I?”

Dread floods your body. “Are you in my house?!” you practically yell in to the phone speaker.

“Come find out. But if you find me it won’t count as answering the question.”

You’re quick to tear the landline from your ear and jab your thumb against the end call button then tossing it onto the kitchen counter. Your hands are shaking as you take a few steps away from it, silently hoping it won’t ring again.

But it isn’t the phone’s shrill ring that makes you jump. It’s a sound coming from somewhere else in the house.

Your fight or flight response kicks in immediately. You rush to flee through the front door when you hear slow, heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. They sound calculated and deliberate, and you have no choice but to stand there in terror.

From the direction of yours and Olivia’s bedrooms comes a dark figure. They walk out of the shadows and into the dining room. Their body is covered in a black cloak, with a hood up over their head and a white mask on their face. The mask is a simple depiction of a screaming face. But it’s not any less mortifying as you watch them.

The figure comes to a stop when they catch sight of you. Their head tilts to one side, almost they’re considering their next move of action.

But you move first, suddenly booking it for the opposite end of the house towards the laundry room, the extra bathroom, and the garage. You hear them give chase a moment later.

You scramble your way into the garage in hopes of getting the large door to slide open. But the masked figure is one step behind you, and prevents you from hitting the door controls. They have you tripping forwards, and you nearly face plant into the concrete but you catch your weight on your hands. You push yourself up just as the intruder goes to grab you.

Darting around your car, that still sits idly in the middle of the space, you are being taunted by the figure in the hood. They stay near the door back into the house which keeps you on the other side of the car.

Then they’re skirting around the vehicle straight for you. You make a last second decision and make a break for the door inside. The intruder races back after you.

The figure chases you down the hall towards your bedroom. You go to slam the door shut before they can reach you, but you didn’t anticipate their strength. They shove the door open all the way, making you scramble back to your bed. You’re panting as you scoot backwards on the mattress.

The black-cloaked figure says nothing as they slowly stalk towards you. Adrenaline in coursing through your veins and you’re panicking. You are rendered silent as they reach the bed and continue their hunt across the sheets until they’re looming over you. The white mask is haunting as it stares down at you with that soundless wail.

“P-Please… I-I don’t wanna die…”

No response. Whoever is underneath that mask does not seem interested in listening to your pleas.

One of their hands reaches back behind them and reveals a shimmering hunting blade. The metal is clean and shiny, and you can see your fear reflected back at you through it.

Their unoccupied hand goes for your shirt, and you flinch at the contact. Your heart is pounding relentlessly as your shirt is lifted from your body. You couldn’t help but be compliant, especially with how they’ve got you situated between their legs.

You watch as they point the knife at you, then have the fine tip poking at the indent at the center of your collarbones. The barely-there feeling of the cold metal on your skin is sending your brain into overdrive. They then slowly, lazily, drag the blade downwards across your bare chest. You see how they’re clearly enamored by the goosebumps flaring across your abdomen as they continue dragging the knife down, down down…

Suddenly, there’s a hand gripping your throat. But it’s not with the murderous intention you were expecting. Instead, there is almost a gentleness to how their squeezing your neck, with the way their thumb grazes your pulse point.

You’re horrifically confused.

You nearly say something to them, but they’re taking the hand holding the knife to their mask. And then they tug off the black hood and this is the end, oh god—

“Noah?!”

And yes, that is your boyfriend kneeling above you with a wicked grin on his face and a knife in his hand. The terror and anxiety you had been feeling begins to melt away, and you can feel nothing but anger and embarrassment.

“Told you I’d see you tonight, didn’t I?” Noah says casually.

It’s a struggle to comprehend his presence. You can’t understand why he’s doing this or why he thought it was okay with a murderer running rampant.

“Wh-What the fuck?” you stammer.

“Oh, what’s wrong, baby?” Noah takes his gloved hand away from your throat and uses it to brush aside the stray hairs that were clinging to your skin. “I thought you wanted me to stay over? Keep you safe?”

You did want that, yes. But this is not what you meant. Never did you say you wanted Noah to stalk you like he were the predator and you were the prey.

But you can’t stamp down the exhilaration that is igniting your insides. You can’t get rid of it, especially with how Noah is looking at you. You suddenly want to turn in to jelly and be completely and utterly obedient to his every word.

And that sort of terrifies you.

“I-I did, but you didn’t have to do this,” you tell him. Your body is slowly relaxing beneath the weight of his own, now that any imminent danger has been found folly.

Noah looks at you quizzically. “What do you mean?” he asks you innocently. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe and sound.”

Noah begins tracing lines across your stomach and chest with the blade’s edge once more, a careful hold on the hilt in order not to pierce your flesh. The sensation has your brain faltering and not fully processing his words. Your hands inch towards his thighs.

He notices your hands moving in no time. He doesn’t stop you and says nothing.

You slither your hands under the cheap black fabric, and you immediately grip at his legs. You boldly glide your hands upwards until you reach the waistband of Noah’s pants. Noah watches as you tug lightly at one of the belt loops, then going for the zipper.

“Did my little charade turn you on, baby?” Noah moves the knife under your chin and gently pushes up so you’re forced to make eye contact with him. “Did you like me chasing you?”

You nod. And you see him grin.

“Shit, and who am I to deny you?”

But you know Noah. He’s going to tease you and get you all worked up, have you in near hysterics before he finally gives you what you want. And he doesn’t seem to be in a very generous mood at the moment.

Noah drops the knife to pull off the entire costume. He tosses it aside before getting rid of his shirt as well. A part of you knows this is what he wanted from the beginning, when he first offered to sleep over. But you can’t be bothered by that, not when he’s moving back enough to pull down your pants.

When he gets your pants off, and they join the rest of the clothes on the floor of your bedroom, Noah drags his tattooed hands up your legs agonizingly slow. He stops briefly when he reaches the top of your thighs, but then he proceeds to dig his fingernails in to the soft flesh and tugs you towards him. You yelp in surprise and are promptly shut up when you find your legs slung around Noah’s waist and his hand resting at your throat again.

“Good girl,” Noah says quietly. The hand not on your neck has begun making its way to your clothed core, which earns a weak whimper from you. “Are you gonna keep being a good girl for me?”

You whine when his fingers start stroking at you through your underwear. You think you answer him, but you don’t care enough as you are now grinding into his hand.

For a moment, you feel Noah remove his hands from your body. You whimper and whine at the loss of touch, until his hand is back at your throat and there’s a sharp cold resting on your hip.

The knife harmlessly glides against your skin once more. Then the pressure from the waistband of your underwear vanishes, to be replaced by the metallic cold of the blade in Noah’s hand. It slowly travels down past your pelvis, making you jerk in surprise.

Noah chuckles at the way your body reacts. You almost begin bitching at him when the knife disappears and is then substituted for his fingers. And his fingers feel so much better against your folds than that stupid knife could ever dream of.

And he’s just lazily stroking, avoiding slipping any one of his long, tattooed digits inside of you. You try your best to grind back against his hand, but the one at your throat squeezes for just a moment. It makes you pause, whining at the unexpected dizziness you are now experiencing.

Then his fingers are inside you, stroking and rubbing and searching for that bundle of nerves deep within. You cry out at the sudden intrusion. But then you’re pushing back on Noah’s fingers and the pressure on your throat eases a bit.

“Such a good girl,” you hear Noah murmur. “Can you cum for me, sweetheart?”

You nod frantically and he thrusts his fingers harder into your pussy. You’re moaning and writhing at his touch, and then that same pressure is applied once more to your throat and it’s just too much. Your body clenches around Noah’s fingers and you ride out your orgasm as he slows down his strokes.

The feeling of suddenly being empty is overwhelming. But you don’t have to worry about that much longer when Noah maneuvers your body off of him and onto your stomach. You feel the bed shift as he moves, and the sound of him taking off his pants has you gripping at the sheets.

Then the bed dips from Noah’s weight and he’s suddenly right above you. His bare legs are caging in your thighs and his hands are gently roaming over the expanse of your back. You can feel his cock against your ass; it takes a little too much self control to not push back into him, although you end up failing.

“You look so hot like this, baby,” Noah says. His hands halt at your hips, and he’s digging his fingertips into the bone. “So, so good for me.”

Noah doesn’t hesitate when he begins pushing his hard cock into you and using your hips as leverage. You’re crying out and moaning weakly as he adjusts slightly and then bottoms out.

There isn’t any warning given before Noah is pulling out just enough then slamming back in. He sets a brutal but steady pace as he fucks you. Your knuckles are whitening from your tight grip on the bedsheets. You quickly become a moaning, blubbering mess beneath Noah as he keeps going and going.

He keeps hitting your cervix perfectly and it makes you see stars. His hands on your hips is currently the only tether you have on reality.

Suddenly there’s a hand in your hair and it tugs at the roots until you prop yourself up on your elbows. Noah’s grip on your hair is sending spikes of pain from your scalp all the way down to your shoulders. But each thrust of his hips is another tug on the strands of hair entangled in his fingers. It’s a mashup of sensations that has you chasing your high again.

“Ah— Ah—“

God, you’re so close. You need to cum so fucking bad.

“Ah, Noah—“

“Come on, baby,” Noah breathlessly encourages you. “I want you to cum with my name on your lips.”

And with that, your pussy is clenching around him and you’re coming with a cry of his name. Then his thrusts get sloppier until he’s coming inside of you. You feel all warm as you are filled with nothing but Noah.

Noah then pulls out and the feeling of his cum dripping out of you is definitely the best thing you’ve ever experienced.

His hands are then forcing you to turn over and rest on your back. He straddles your weak body, and the sight of him above you like that makes you want to go again.

“Such a good little slut for me,” he says quietly. His chest is heaving as he drags one of his hands upwards, starting at your stomach and stopping at your tits. He palms one then the other, playing with each for but a moment. “Always so good for me, baby.”

Silence settles over you while Noah continues to just touch you. It’s calming and has your eyelids growing heavy.

But there’s still something that is gnawing at your brain. And you have to say something.

“Are you the killer?” Your voice is fragile when you verbalize your question.

It doesn’t seem to bother Noah, though. His hands are still wandering and touching you as he seems to process what you said.

“Yes. Does that scare you?” he replies. His eyes dart up to meet yours, and the dark glint has your heart pounding. “Do I scare you?”

You don’t have an answer for him, so you remain quiet.

“Are you afraid of me?”

He’s referring to what you had talked about yesterday. A part of you wants to yell out and tell him you are utterly terrified of him, that you cannot fathom the horrific atrocities he has committed. You can’t stand the thought of how much blood stains his hands. The hands that are touching you, caressing every curve…

“No,” you whisper.

Noah’s mouth twists into a lopsided grin. Your answer seems to satisfy him, and you can’t help the satisfaction you also feel spreading throughout your chest.

“Good. I would never want you to be afraid of me,” he tells you as he leans down so your faces are parallel. “You’re mine. And I’ll get rid of anyone that thinks they can take you from me.”

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

♱ foliosriot 2023

[rebelliousstories]

Stockings

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: David x Reader

Fandom: The Lost Boys

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, David being David

Word Count: 1,457

Masterlist: Here

Summary: This was NOT what he had in mind when someone mentioned “stockings.”

David did not know what he was thinking. He did not know how he got here, yet here he was. He meant to be on the boardwalk with his brothers, and lover, enjoying a night of mischief and fun. But here he was. Where was here exactly? A Christmas pop up stall on the boardwalk. When his lover came to him and asked him if he wanted to help her pick out stockings, he had a totally different idea in mind. Now, he was trailing after the girl awkwardly in the store. She picked up a navy blue stocking with gold embellishments and turned towards the vampire behind her.

“Do you think Laddie will like this?” She asked, eyes watching his face intently.

“Sure.” The response was so dry from him that she leveled an unimpressed look with her lover.

“Could you at least pretend to like this stuff?” She questioned, turning back to the stockings in front of her.

“No, I can’t.” David quipped, looking around to see if he could disappear into the night away from the candy canes and glitter.

“Listen,” she turned back around, “if you help me picking out stockings for everyone to put up in the cave, including your own, I’ll make it worth while. But you need to pretend for as long as we’re in the store.” Her offer was tempting; but David being David, pushed a little closer to the edge.

“Worth my while, huh? Meaning anything I want?” He teased, reaching a hand up and caressing her cheek with gloved fingertips. Her look turned bashful for a moment before she returned to her usual expression when dealing with David; mild annoyance mixed with flirty.

“Sure, Davey. Anything you want to make this worth your while.” She purred, getting closer to him and leaning up against his chest. Her hands ran up his chest, resting right at the top hem of his shirt and staring him dead in the eyes. Crystal blue eyes barred right back into her own, but neither moved.

“Fine. I’ll pretend for you.” David relented, resting his hands on her waist with a squeeze. She turned back excitedly to the decorations in front of her, and began her perusing once more. David allowed her to drag him around the store, and entertained her with comments and input on whatever she grabbed.

“Really? Glitter?”

“No. Get Paul the pink one.”

“Dwayne might like the tiger on that. Get it.”

Once he started pretending to like that stuff, the less he had to act. David found himself enjoying offering the comments and critiques to his girlfriend. He liked joking around with her and messing around with the garland hanging around the aisles. She would giggle anytime he messed around, and laugh when he would make jokes. It was nice to see her lover pretending to enjoy himself. It was almost to the point where she truly believed he was having a good time with her.

Eventually, with bags a plenty, the couple left the Christmas shop to head back to the cave. Arriving at the boardwalk again, she had to fight to keep Marko and Paul's hands from getting inside said bags.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, slapping both of their hands before they could get to close. The vampires let out small whines when they got hit, making David chuckle at them.

“Hands away. You'll find out tonight when we put them up. Behave.” Her words made the boys perk up again. Everyone made their way to the bikes, and she had to situate herself on the back of David's while still holding on to the bags. Star saddled up to Marko as Laddie went to Dwayne. The pack made their way down the beach, screaming and whopping into the chilly air of the night. Arriving at Hudson's Bluff, Dwayne made Laddie help carry some of the bags of Christmas decorations down into the cave. David led his lover down the steps while Marko and Paul kept rough housing behind them.

Stockings of all different varieties were pulled from the bags before abortions could stop the terror twins. And they were in awe.

“Everyone, stockings! Come and get ‘em!” Marko cheered as he excitedly tore apart the bags to get a good look at each one. He set the patchwork quilt style one aside, knowing immediately that was his. Marko gave Star the bright pink one with glitter on it, only to be given a dry “thanks” and a disappointed look on her face. David chuckling made both of them stop.

“That's not Star's, Marko.” He got out in between chuckles, but the vampire was still confused. He looked at the stockings they had, and quickly found the one with the moon and sun drawn in an astrological style. Marko gave that one to the female, who had a much happier expression this time around. He pointed the bright pink stocking towards the girl who was now sat on David's lap. The blonde vampire's face held a smirk and shook his head, looking over to the other blonde in the group.

“Oh hell no.” Paul exclaimed, coming over to snatch the stocking out of Marko's hands. Turning to face her lover, she gave a ridiculous look to David who merely shrugged as he went to light a cigarette. Paul was digging through the bags, looking for another stocking that seemed to belong to him. But he dropped them when he saw there were none. He seemed to come to terms with it pretty quickly.

“Oh well, not the worst thing. Honestly, it looks like something I saw on acid once. Least I didn't get David's stocking.” And then he ran away before said vampire could ask him what he means. David was now curious about Paul's statement, but tried to hide it as best he could.

Marko held up an intricate looking stocking, with a Bengal tiger embroidered on the front. There was light bead work all around the stocking, but nothing could draw Dwayne's eyes away from the ornate artwork on the front. He could not take his eyes from the stocking as he turned to go sit down, and almost ran into Laddie who had made his way over to receive his.

“Here you are, little dude.” Laddie grabbed his navy blue and gold stocking excitedly, and ran over to Dwayne to share their stockings. And then there were two. Marko did not even bother taking them out of their bags, he just brought it over to the couple, and left.

Now, they sat in the chair together, with a single bag between them. She was encouraging him to open the bag first.

“Go on, David. Open it.” The vampire held an unimpressed look, but amused his lover. He reached down into the bag and pulled out a stocking with a dark red rose on it. However, she grabbed it.

“That would be mine. Go on.” Her smile overtook her face and she was almost buzzing where she sat. What David pulled out next, confused him. It was a black stocking, with no embellishments, yet held a blood red trim. He was confused because there were no stockings at that shop that looked like that, even though they only looked at the stockings in that shop that were of alternative designs. His confusion must have washed over his face deep enough that his lover was speaking up.

“I wanted yours to be a surprise since I knew you'd be coming with me. So I went during the day today and got this one for them to hold till I got the others tonight with you.” She explained, watching his face for any sign of discomfort or anger. But all she found was wonder. David was a man of few words, and that did not change now. No, now, he turned their heads together and joined them. Pouring all the love he could not say with words into this kiss, keeping his girlfriend pressed against him. When he eventually let her up for air he did not need, she held a dizzying smile.

“What was that for?” She asked dreamily, staring into the pastel blue wires of her lover.

“Just the fact that you did that. Means a lot.” David sealed his words with yet another kiss that she was quick to end.

“Look inside.” Her whisper enticed him. Reaching his hand inside the stocking, like she said, there was something there. David started to pull out whatever was inside, but stopped quickly. He saw black fishnet material and turned to his lover with an impish grin. She merely matched his expression.

“Told you I'd make it worth your while.” Now that was his kind of stocking.

[lofitojii]

To Be Loved: Part 1

Summary: Your heart never knew it was capable of intense feelings for someone else. You thought that maybe life would've been easier if you never met him that night, if you had just ignored him in that alley. That thought crossed your mind constantly, consuming every good thing that had happened up to this point. This was never meant to be easy, and deep within, you knew involving yourself in his life was going to be complicated.

word count: 4.1k

WARNING: THIS SERIES INCLUDES 18+ CONTENT!

𓆩♡𓆪•.¸♡ ♡¸.••.¸♡ ♡¸.••.¸♡ ♡¸.••.¸♡ ♡¸.••.¸♡ ♡¸.••.¸♡ ♡¸.••.¸♡ ♡¸.•𓆩♡𓆪

When I was younger, I had the constant reminder that love was hard to find with those who were in and out of it around me. Love was harsh, unforgiving, mentally exhausting to endure. I remember seeing my poor mother sobbing on the back porch, deep inhales from her Newport cigarette being heard through the cracked windows of our kitchen, the smell lightly seeping through the screen. I didn’t hate that smell.

She never really talked about who broke her heart but more ask “Why me?” or “What did I do now?” I remember some nights she would come home late, sending home the sweet teenage neighbour or on some nights, our aunt who I remember was a very strong figure in my childhood. The deep sigh Auntie would make when she would embrace my mother in her arms, small hushes trying to mask the sound of the silent sobs. “You can’t let these men keep treating you like this.” Those words lingered heavily throughout those nights. 

Looking back on these specific moments, my heart aches for the single mother, sitting outside alone in the dark. She preferred it that way though, and I don’t really blame her. But one thing about my mother was that she never gave up on what she thought love meant to her. The next morning, Stevie Nicks would be blasting in the kitchen, doors wide open as she smoked inside our house, waving it around as if the smoke were to cleanse the unwanted thoughts we knew she had about what happened. It was just me and my older brother through most of our childhood. Mom never really committed after our father left, not until we were both teenagers, old enough to finally grasp onto something of what she was going through. 

His name was Aiko, tall, handsome, and an artist in our community. She met him one night at the bar she used to work at on weekends when she was trying to save up for my brother to get into college. I remember him being kind, soft spoken. He treated my mother to many things, including fine dining, extravagant adventures around Asia, lavish hotels and exhibits. He was good to my mother and we also loved him, so dearly. They were perfect right up until the very end when he shielded both us and our mother from that night. If only the events had turned out differently. If only she had survived, if only they both had been able to survive.

“Stay here and do not leave by any means. Do you promise me Y/N?” His eyes filled with tears, sweat mixing with crimson liquid as he wiped it away with the back of his hand. His palm caressed my cheek, so gently, so lovingly. “I will help you but you have to promise me you’ll stay here until I do. Please…” He pleaded, his voice heavily concerned. I nodded, tears flowing, blurring my vision. He pushed me further into the dark crevice of the basement, whispering ‘I love you’ as he closed off my vision with one of his paintings. 

The night dragged on, loud bangs and thuds coming from right above me. I knew what was happening but I didn’t want to believe it. I sat and prayed to the God I had never spoken to before in hopes he would hear my calling for him in this desperate time of need. Eventually, it fell silent. I could hear the rain tapping gently against the roof, my mind wavering between sitting here and waiting or seeking help myself. 

But I promised. I told him I wouldn’t move. So I didn’t. 

That was 10 years ago, I’m 25 now, living on my own, a couple blocks away from my older brother. He visits me often, brings me dinner, studies in my kitchen until early hours of the morning, sometimes being found on my living room couch. I don’t mind, I find comfort in having my brother around. But for us to have our own independence after relying so much on each other for so many years, we had agreed to keep it this way. 

“Y/N?” a small knock came from the other side, his gentle voice seeping through the crack in my bedroom door. I closed my journal, placing it down on my side table. “Are you hungry? I was hungry and made and omlette and also kinda sorta made you one too.” I smiled as he walked in, placing the plate down in front of me before hopping into the empty spot next to my side. 

“Even if I wasn’t hungry you wouldn’t care.” He just smiled and laid his head down on the pillow behind him. 

“Do you work tonight?” I nodded, taking a bite of the food in front of me. My brother really was an incredible cook, something he picked up from our mother. “Then tomorrow, do you want to go to that new bar with me? Couple of friends are meeting up, I think it would be good to get out.”

“From one bar to another?” I joked. He rolled his eyes, his gaze pressuring me for an answer. “I’ll go, but I’m only staying for an hour or two. I won't be home until 4 AM tomorrow and I don’t know how much bar environment I can handle.” 

“Why a bar?” 

“Choso,” I sighed, finishing the last bite of the breakfast he had made me. “I make really good money, meet lots of people, have the ins and outs of the night life in this city. It’s a good job for me and I really enjoy it.” The look on his face was something I was all too familiar with. “Choso.” 

“What!” He huffed, throwing his head face down into the pillow. Shaking my head I reached for my own pillow, throwing it over his head receiving a small grunt being muffled through the fabric. He finally sat up, bringing the pillows back to their proper places. “I just think you have other options you should consider for a better future.” 

“What, like the art school?” 

“Y/N they sought YOU out! That doesn’t just happen to anyone! Not to mention it’s the same place-” I lifted my finger over my lips, halting him from finishing his sentence. “I’m just saying.” 

“And I’m just saying I’m 25 and have time to figure out what I want to do. As for right now though, Maki is waiting for me to come join her for half price shots. Not to mention the big fight happened tonight so the bar is probably packed, I should leave within the hour.” Choso gave me an all too familiar look, brows furrowed, pouty lips. I know he means well with what he says to me but, to be honest, it’s something I’m not ready to address yet. “You’re more than welcome to come help out tonight. I know Nanami wouldn’t mind the extra hands.” 

“What and get worked to the bone again just to be paid with under the table tips?” I took the pillow in my hands once more, this time hurling it right in his face. 

“Out.” I motioned towards the door. “Are you coming or not?” 

“I’ll go.” 

The bar I worked at was an underground dive bar located in downtown Shibuya. It was a quick 5 minute walk down the street from my place, right next to the local fighting event center. That was the big thing here in the city, the fights weren’t regulated, completely free style fighting. It was the place to make a name for yourself in this city when it came to fighting, big names started off as small street fighters here. Being that we were the closest bar to the center, made us a very hot spot for the fighters, girlfriends, groupies, stage crew, and college students all alike. 

“What’s it looking like tonight?” I yelled over the loud music blaring in the background of the empty bar. Stamping my card, Choso shimmied his way behind me, locking hands with one of our servers. From behind them, I could see Maki making her way towards me, annoyance written across her face. 

“Big fight happened tonight so Nanami is calling all hands on deck.” She took a smoke out of the pack she kept in her back pocket, offering me one. Placing the stick between my lips, she leaned hers against mine, igniting the borrowed cigarette. The harsh vapor hit the back of my throat, burning ever so slightly. 

“Who won?” I asked, stacking cups behind the bar as Maki stocked popular liquor choices. I could feel a lump in my throat as she placed Bacardi in its preferred spot. 

“Who do you think?” She smirked, putting her smoke out in the drain in front of us. “Alright boys!” She climbed up on the counter, gathering the attention of all the employees in the bar. “There are gonna be a lot of fighters here tonight along with a lot of cops patrolling the area. This is not our first rodeo and I expect tonight to go like any other! You know the rules, you know what to do if a bitch gets out of line so I plan on everyone doing their part tonight.” Maki was the unofficial manager of this place. Nanami doesn’t believe in giving titles out because we’re all here to help each other, the family method. But she’s the only one he trusts enough to leave alone in the bar without him. She was good at it, I admired her a lot for how she can step up to authority so effortlessly.  

10 PM hit and the place was crowded, music blasting from every corner. They weren’t kidding when they said tonight was a sold out show. As the night went on, drinks came and went from my station. The laughs got louder, the drinks got sloppier. 

“What can I get you?” I asked, staring at the couple in front of me. The woman had on a cherry red lip, matching what I would assume was a wig. Her eye makeup shimmering under the strobe lights of the bar. Her partner had a single white stripe, swooping in front of eyes. He had a singular tooth gem on one of his canines, which he didn’t mind showing off. 

“Two stouts and a shot for the winner over there,” he said pointing at the man in the corner who had drinks thrown his way all night. Dark features, broad shoulders. I couldn’t get a good look at his face but I knew exactly who he was. 

“Mai! Another shot for the big one in the corner,” I yelled, sliding the small glass in her direction. “Hey Maki, I’m going out for a smoke.” She nodded, taking the two customers from in front of me. 

Tonight was overwhelming to say the least. Fight nights were always busy but tonight felt a little different. I knew the Fushiguro guy was the talk of the town but I didn’t think he would conjure up this big of a crowd. I slid my phone out of my pocket, planning on doing a quick google search of tonight's fight. “Toji Fushiguro,” I whispered under my breath the exhale of the cigarette smoke. Black hair, scar on his lip, fantastic figure. He looked the part of street fighter, little to no history on his backstory either. “Small town outside Tokyo, has a son huh.” Suddenly, the light that illuminated over me became dark, the heat from someone’s body could be felt very close, almost as if they had pressed themselves up against my back. “Hey man.” 

“Sorry,” he muttered, stepping to the side. “Do you have a smoke?” I turned around coming face to face with his broad chest. My eyes traced up his shirt, the smell of sweat with the masking of burnt sandalwood burning my nostrils. 

“Oh uh yeah sorry.” I opened my half empty box of camel crushes. He smirked, letting out a little huff. 

“Candy cigarettes,” he joked, taking the lighter from my hands. The wic flickered, but nothing lit. Over and over his thumb ran across the spike wheel, but nothing was happening. His eyes darted from the lighter to the cigarette lit in my hand. I placed it between my lips, inhaling as he leaned in to light his own, mimicking the actions of what I did with Maki earlier. Not once did his gaze leave mine as the smoke began to kindle. I could feel my heartbeat surge through my entire body, sensitive to the bitter night breeze trapped in the small alley. He leaned back, his smile barely visible through his pursed lips. He could tell what he was doing. 

“They’re the only ones that don’t taste like ass after having several throughout the day.” I quickly turned my head away from his, trying not to let his aura have such an effect on me, but I was completely in a daze ‘cause of him. 

“Guess I can’t argue with that.” He finally leaned back fully, letting the spotlight illuminate his face instead of hiding it. His skin glistened, the smell of liquor lingering with smoke he had placed between his lips. He was… gorgeous? “What?” He smirked again, looking down at my dumbfounded face. I could feel my cheeks get hot, flushing from his intense gaze that would fluster anyone he looked at. “Let me guess,” he slurred, placing his arm above my head. “Nervous?” 

“No,” I huffed back, avoiding eye contact with the beautiful man in front of me. “Just thinking about how all these strong smells don't mask your cheap bath and body works cologne.” He let out a low chuckle, reaching down and smelling his own shirt. His eyes shifted, lit by the lowlights of the outside smoking area. His consuming gaze felt like he was putting pressure on my whole body. 

“The girl at the mall said it was charming.” He lifted the smoke up to his lips, taking a deep inhale. “What’s your name?” Why was I hesitating so much to speak to him? Was it his aura? Was it because of his cheap cologne? Was it because he was almost double my size and leaning over me a considerable amount? “I’m Toji.” He took one last deep inhale of the smoke he had snagged from me, crushing the bud under his foot. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.” He pointed to my name tag that was half hidden by the jacket I had on. I quickly pulled it closed, turning around to avoid any more conversation with the intimidating man in front of me. 

“Maybe with that big paycheck you got from tonight's fight, you could invest in something that doesn’t stain the nose so badly.” I could feel him let out a deep chuckle behind me before hearing the door slam shut. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief, I finally relaxed my shoulders from the oh so stiff posture I had been holding. I didn’t realize how nervous I actually was until I was left with the heavy atmosphere he had left behind.

“Y/N? Are you okay? You look a little pale.” I looked up meeting the familiar face of my older brother, his expression written with concern. I nodded, tossing the bud of my own smoke into the garbage. I followed Choso back into the bar, immediately losing him in the crowd of people as I struggled to get back to my post. Maki met me with a grasp on the shoulder, switching spots so she could go take a break herself.

As the night went on, we cut people off signaling we closed within the hour which caused small groups to leave in rotations. “Thank god,” Maki sighed, leaning her back against the counter. “Nights like these go back so fast but not fast enough.” 

“Maki, Y/N,” Nanami called over in our direction. “Are you guys staying tonight for drinks?” We both nodded, looking forward to our tradition of staff hang out after a big night. During this time we usually have a round of beers, the regular Nanami speech about how he appreciates our hard work, followed by loud chatting amongst the crew, ending with a singular shot before we start to part ways. 

As I was cleaning the bar in front of me, gathering glasses and loose bills lying around left by friendly drunk customers, Maki tapped my shoulder, gesturing her head to the man standing in front of me. Meeting his dark eyes once more, I could feel the lump in my throat form. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to harass you.” He took a napkin from the pile I had just stacked, placing his hand out in front of me, eyeing the pen in my apron pocket. My hands moved on their own, gently placing the pen in his hand, feeling his rough skin against mine. He quickly scribbled something across it, sliding the napkin in my direction. 

‘Can I have your number?’ I looked up, confused.

“I would give you mine but then there’s the chance you won’t actually text me.” I could feel the curiosity mixed with excitement of multiple coworkers behind me, feeling extremely heavy under the pressure of answering. To avoid this situation anymore, I instinctively wrote down my number, handing it over without making eye contact. And with that, Toji threw a wink in my direction, leaving with a small group out the front door of the bar. I let out a deep sigh, slowly turning around to meet the intense gaze of my coworkers. 

“Girl,” Maki smiled. “We all saw that, right? That just happened?” I felt my face get hot, really hot. What just happened? Why did I give him my actual number and not some random one? He’s right too, if he would’ve given me his number, I wouldn’t know what to do with it? But most of all, WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?

I could feel myself getting dizzy with the thoughts running through my head at what felt like a million miles an hour. Everything happened so fast, I felt like I didn’t have enough time to react. He was so beautiful, and truly I wish I had more words to describe what he was like in my eyes. The way his messy hair fell so easily in front of his eclipse eyes. The scar located on the corner of his rough lips. His smile, that stupid cheesy grin, even made the hairs on the back of my neck wane at the thought of it. Why, of all the beautiful people who attended the bar tonight, why did I stand out?  

“Alright alright,” Nanami gestured at the roaring crowd of tired yet sleepless employees. “One again we had another successful fight night. Only one punch thrown and it wasn’t from one of our staff.” 

“Hey, Y/N.” Maki was smiling ear to ear, breath lingering with the scent of Blue Moon. “So Toji huh? After we heard about the interaction in the alley, man wouldn’t take his eyes off of you.” 

“Shut up Maki!” I lightly brushed her away. “There were a ton of girls sitting at the bar, it could've been anyone.” She rolled her eyes all the way into the back of her head, brows furrowed with a face that read ‘Be fucking for real’. 

“Lucky girl you.” I was desperately trying to grasp on to anything other than the idea he was interested in me. Not that I wasn’t attracted to him but because I was attracted to him. Men like that are elusive, not interested in the quiet life. And that’s all I’ve wanted, ever since I was very small. 

“See you Sunday Y/N. And good work Choso. Threw in a bit extra for you tonight for the last minute help.” Nanami waved us off before locking the doors behind him, walking in the opposite direction with Maki.  

“Y/N?” Choso whispered under his breath, walking slowly behind me on our way home.  The air between us was tense. I knew that if others had seen it, Choso had heard about what had happened. “What happened when you went outside?” 

“Um,” I hesitated, running my fingers through my hair. “I met Toji.” 

“What happened though?” He sounded nervous, voice shaking. 

“Nothing, he just made small talk.” 

“That’s it? Then why did you give him your number?” 

“Choso-” 

“No Y/N.” He stopped in his tracks, causing my own body to freeze. “He may be the top fighter right now but he’s bad news. That man hasn’t committed to anything in his life. All I’ve ever heard about him is bad things, and you want to get involved in that?” 

“Stop!” I turned around, looking at my older brother standing tall in front of me. I know he means well, and I can’t bring myself to be mad at him. But the constant hovering, there’s a certain line that can cause it to feel suffocating.  “Yes I gave him my number, yes I talked to him but why are we just assuming things when nothing has even happened? I get that you’re worried about me and I know you made a promise to look after me but I’m not a little girl anymore. You don’t have a say in who I talk to, let alone who I date. And that thought didn’t even cross my mind with Togi! I exchanged a few words with him about cheap cologne and he asked for my number. Tons of guys have done that working at this damn bar! So please, Choso. Please loosen your grip just a little and trust me for once!” 

I was out of breath, the cold autumn night biting at my bare legs as I painfully waited for Choso to respond. But nothing came. Instead he turned around, and walked the other way. Was I too harsh? Did I hurt his feelings just by trying to stand up for myself? Whatever. I let out a deep sigh and continued to head towards my apartment. Things will blow over eventually with Choso like they always do. I get that he is just being overprotective but this is the main reason why I haven’t gone out of my way to date anyone seriously. I’ve had a few flings here and there, but Choso has always been lingering in the background. Ever since the accident with our mother, Choso hasn’t really left my side. I don’t blame him, I’ve kept my grasp just as tight on him in return. We’ve been inseparable for a long time. But as we grow older, I want him to have a family of his own. I want him to follow his own dreams, be his own person. Not just my protector. 

“Yuna,” I called out as I slipped my shoes off at the foot of the front door. “How was it tonight? Quiet?” 

“Mow,” she called out, letting out a relaxed stretch before prancing over to greet me. I picked her up in one quick swoop, holding her close to my chest. 

“What a night Yuna. Pretty sure Choso won’t be around for a couple of days so try not to be too sad about it.” Her loud purs could be heard echoing throughout the silent apartment. She curled up in a small ball in my lap, bringing me what comfort she could without knowing the distress I was feeling. I let out what felt like the 60th deep sigh of my evening, crashing my back into the base of my bed. 

4:15 AM. Will Choso still want me to show up tonight? I should just shoot him a text apologizing for my outburst. As I reached for my phone, it lit up with an unknown number. Why is my heart racing?

“Hope you’re safe. -Toji.” 

I could feel my face flush to what I could assume was that of deep crimson. The heat  was radiating, cheeks warm to the touch. I sat there with my screen illuminating my face in the darkness of the early morning. 

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping? It’s pretty late.” 

“Did you just get home?” 

“About 20 minutes ago.” -Read 4:30 AM. It had been about 10 minutes since he opened that last text message. With that, I put my phone face down, attaching it to my charger. 

Tonight has been so overwhelming, my head felt like it was spinning as I closed my eyes. To be honest I didn’t want to think about it anymore, I knew I wouldn’t sleep if I fixed on any topic that had happened. Just as I could feel the sleep about to take over, I could feel the vibration of my phone go off. 

“I hope I see you around.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Master List

A/N: Helloooo!!! I hope you enjoyed part 1 of this series. I've been in heavy thought of what it means to be in love, indulging in various romance shows, books, movies, music. I know this isn't going to be about the Toji we know but the Toji we wish we could know. Let me know what you think 𓆩♡𓆪

[devildom-moss]

Valentine's Day Gifts

MC made chocolates for everyone on Valentine's Day, but it turns out that everyone also has a chocolate-themed present for MC. What did the Obey Me characters get you this year?

(All characters - including Mephisto, Raphael, and Thirteen x gn!MC) (platonic for Luke)

(SFW, but some characters are a bit suggestive)

Lucifer

He pulled out a jar of what looked like ground coffee mixed with cocoa powder. You gave him a confused look. He got flustered, realizing that he had forgotten something, and grabbed a card from the nearby table to give to you. You read the card:

Lucifer, thank you for your custom order. Making this Rose Vanilla Ground Cacao for you was a pleasure and an honor. Even without magic, we guarantee this blend will capture the heart of its recipient and soothe their soul. May your beloved be pleased with your tastes and our craftsmanship.

See brewing instructions on the back.

You smiled up at him, striking him with sudden affection. You looked so cute and pleased over his gift. Lucifer was doing his best to contain himself and hide his own joy, “I read that roasted cacao was growing in popularity as a coffee substitute. However, I couldn’t just get you something generic for Valentine’s Day. I could brew a cup for you now, if you’d like.”

“Thank you. I’d like that very much, my beloved,” you teased. His cheeks went pink.

Mammon

“Close yer eyes and turn around.” Mammon demanded.

“Why?”

“Just do it, or ya won’t get a gift at all.”

“Fine,” you complied, turning your back to him. You felt something cold around your neck, realizing what it was as Mammon hooked the clasp of the necklace. He placed his hand on your back and gently guided you across the room.

“’Perfect. Go ahead and look now,” Mammon spoke from behind you. His hands settled on your hips.

When you opened your eyes, you were standing in front of a mirror. A deep brown chocolate-colored pearl pendant, exquisitely carved into the shape of a heart, hung around your neck. It wasn’t traditional chocolate, but it was a uniquely Mammon-esque interpretation. You turned around to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Mammon. It’s lovely.”

“I can’t have anyone showin’ me up today, so I wanted to get you somethin’ real special,” he spoke but he couldn’t look you in the eye. He wanted to tell you how hard he had worked to get that – how much trouble it had been, but he didn’t want to sully that sweet smile you had. “Looks good on you, my treasure.”

Leviathan

Levi had practically snuck up on you, popping up from around the corner, and screaming out your name. His entire face as pink as he stared at the ground, hand outstretched to you. He was holding two pink tickets. You could see a few hearts and Azuki-tan on them.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“I managed to get two tickets to an exclusive Valentine’s Day Ruri-chan pop-up café. They only sold 200 tickets, and you had to buy them in pairs. I thought we could go together – if you don’t mind going with a yucky otaku like me, that is.”

“I’d love to go!” You pulled him into a hug as if to squeeze the self-deprecation out of his body. He let out a squeak, but eventually hugged you back.

“Waa! I can’t believe you want to go with me. We have to try their lava cake special. It’s topped with a tiny chocolate Azuki-tan, and there are rumors that it’s baked with a magical charm that’s supposed to make lovers closer. They also have a white chocolate Ruri-chan parfait. The layers match Ruri-chan’s outfit! M-maybe we could get both and share them? Ahh! Just imagining you offering me a bite of either dessert is more than I can handle. This is going to be the best Valentine’s Day ever.”

Satan

“Ah, MC, could you grab the book on my nightstand?” Satan asked you without looking up from his current book.

“There are . . . eight books here, Satan.”

“The one on top, please.”

“Okay,” you grabbed the strange looking book. It was heavier than you expected for its size, and the balance of weight was off. A Love of Books and Chocolate was written on the cover. You handed it to Satan, but he put his hand up and set his book down.

“Open it up,” he smirked at you.

When you did, you realized that the reason that book felt so strange was because it was hallowed out and filled with chocolate bars – seven of them, to be precise. Each one had a wrapper with different cover art on it. Some of them were familiar. In fact, one of those books was setting right under the book of chocolates on Satan’s nightstand.

“They’re literary themed chocolates. Each one has a flavor that matches a popular piece of Devildom fiction. I set each corresponding book aside if you’d like to read them while you eat the chocolate – it has a long shelf life, so don’t worry about having to rush through the books. I could even read the books to you, if you’d like,” Satan informed you. It was so thought out, and you could tell that he wanted to share more of his interests with you.

“I’d love that, thank you.”

Asmodeus

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love,” Asmo whispered into your ear.

He had crawled into your bed that morning, and was sitting over you, straddling you and smiling down at you.

“Morning, gorgeous,” you smiled up at him, still half asleep. He was already dressed and he had drawn hearts freckles on his cheeks as a part of his make-up this morning. “You sure have a lot of energy. And happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Of course. I thrive on days of love like this. Get up, and I’ll help you get ready,” Asmo gave you a kiss before getting off of you.

He did as promised, going so far as to help you get undressed and even buttoning up your shirt for you. Once you had washed up and were dressed, he asked you to sit down so he could do your make-up.

“By the way, I have something for you,” Asmo grinned and pulled out a fancy, rococo-style lip gloss tube. “Today calls for chocolate lip cream! It’s supposed to leave your lips soft and sweet – like chocolate. Can I put it on for you, MC?”

“Of course.”

He gently applied the lip cream. Asmo nodded, “I knew that color would look amazing on you! Ugh, but now I want to mess it up and kiss you! Can I? I’ll reapply it for you when we’re done.”

Beelzebub

“MC, I have a Valentine’s Day gift for you.” Beel handed you a box excitedly. He was smiling widely, as if he was hardly containing himself. Then again, it made sense that he would be so happy on a day that involved so much candy and chocolate.

“Thank you, baby Beel. That’s so sweet.”

You opened the box to find an array of chocolate syrups. They had unique flavors that looked delicious, but you were taken aback by the fourth flavor: Chocolate Lunatic Pudding.

“Um, Beel, this is a great gift, but I can’t eat this one,” you lifted the bottle slightly, trying to remind him while recalling the one time you tried a bite of Lunatic Pudding and every demon was suddenly all over you. Had Beel forgotten? You felt bad for pointing it out, but you couldn’t risk that happening again.

 “Oh, that one isn’t for you,” Beel remarked non-chalantly before leaning into your ear and whispering, “that one is for me to lick off of you.”

Belphegor

When you got home, you found Belphegor napping in your bed. Lying next to him was a thin blue box with a star map printed on the lid. You leaned over to give Belphegor a kiss on the cheek.

“Mmh, MC, welcome home.” Belphie had the wispy tone you were used to hearing when he woke up from a nap. He stretched.

“Whatcha got there Belphie?” you motioned towards the box.

“Shit, I hope they didn’t melt,” he yawned and handed the box to you, “happy Valentine’s Day.”

“For me?”

“Who else would I get chocolates for – well, aside from Beel? Take a look.”

You opened the box to find an assortment of galaxy painted chocolates – a gorgeous marble of blue, purple, and black with white flecks – and star shaped chocolates. The twins’ constellation (that they now shared with you) was painted on half of the galaxy chocolates.

“These are beautiful! Thank you.”

“You can thank me by joining me in bed.”

Diavolo

Diavolo summoned you to the student council room. When you arrived, he was sitting at his desk. A white box tied with a red ribbon was setting in front of him. Diavolo noticed you in the doorway and waved you in, “come in, MC! I called you here to give you a Valentine’s Day gift.”

He grinned from ear to ear – like a child who had just finished a drawing that he was excited to show you.

“You didn’t have to do anything special for me, Diavolo.”

“Nonsense! I wanted to do this,” Diavolo exclaimed. He pointed to the box on his desk, and it unwrapped itself, revealing a delicious-looking chocolate custard in a heart-shaped ramekin. “It’s common to make chocolate sweets for the one you desire, today. So, with some help from Barbatos, I made this chocolate custard for you. You won’t refuse it, will you?”

His eyes begged you not to refuse him. He looked so sweet and cute that you wondered how anyone ever found him intimidating. “Of course not! Thank you, Diavolo.”

“Excellent,” he laughed, “now, will you also allow me to feed you?”

Barbatos

“I’m sorry to call you here, MC. I’m sure this is a rather busy day for you, but would you do me the pleasure of joining me for tea?” Barbatos asked you at the castle doors. He didn’t show it, but he was holding his breath awaiting your answer.

“I’d be happy to join you.”

“Wonderful. This way, please.”

Barbatos led you to the garden. A vase of rainbow-colored roses sat on a table along with a tea pot, two dark brown cups on saucers, and a covered tray. He pulled a chair out for you.

On closer inspection, you realized that the teacups were actually sculpted out of chocolate. They were more ornate than most cups you had ever used. “Did you make all of this?”

“I did. The roses are from my garden, and I sculpted these cups especially for the tea I’ve prepared today. It’s my own blend of chocolate and cinnamon black tea. I’ve set aside a batch for you to take home and enjoy at your leisure, but today we’ll be enjoying an ice brew version of this blend – so as to not melt the chocolate cups. Feel free to eat your cup once you’ve had your tea, by the way. I also prepared chocolate cardamom shortbread cookies in anticipation of you accepting my invitation.”

“Barbatos, this is too much. I mean, I appreciate it, but wasn’t this too much effort?”

“Not at all. If you enjoy this tea with me, it was more than worth the effort. In fact, that adorable, flustered look on your face right now has already been more than enough,” he teased while pouring tea into both of your cups. Barbatos is the king of doing too much.

Luke

Luke was waiting outside of your first class of the day for you, eager to give you your Valentine’s Day gift. He had worked so hard on it, and he couldn’t wait to see your face – both in reaction to his gift and in general.

“Oi, chihuahua. What’s got ya lookin’ all chipper today?” Mammon greeted him.

“I’m not a dog, you rotten demon! I’m here for MC.” Luke barked back at him.

“What business ya got with them, Fido?”

“Mammon,” you sighed, “stop being rude to Luke and go on to class, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, yeah. Make it quick,” Mammon rolled his eyes and walked into the classroom.

“Sorry, Luke,” you apologized on Mammon’s behalf with a sheepish smile, “what did you want to see me for?”

“I baked this for you,” Luke handed you a small box. “You’re always helping me out, and I wanted to show my appreciation today.”

You opened the box to see a mini heart-shaped layer cake. The cake was pink with white buttercream and topped with a cherry and crystalized rose petals. It was almost too pretty to eat. He was so precious. Luke beamed when he saw the awe on your face. “The buttercream is made of white chocolate and the cake is cherry and rose flavored. Please eat if before Beel spots it, okay?”

“Will do! Thank you, Luke. This is so sweet.”

Simeon

Simeon had requested your presence at Purgatory Hall – “urgently” he said. However, he failed to elaborate, so when you arrived in a bit of a panic, he laughed, “oh, about that. . .”

“Simeon, you scared me,” you told him when he presented a thin rectangular box with a pink bow to you, “a Valentine’s Day gift is hardly urgent.”

“Sorry about that,” Simeon laughed again, “but I really needed to see you and give these to you today. I spent all of yesterday making them.”

You had to forgive him when he smiled so sweetly. Plus, he was giving you a present. You sighed, “next time, just tell me you want to see me. I’d be happy to visit you just for that reason.”

“You would? You really know how to make my heart race, don’t you?” He laughed the embarrassment away. He probably didn’t have to be so sneaky just to ensure he could give you a present, but he didn’t want to risk you declining him. He looked at you with anticipation, “well, aren’t you going to open it?”

The box contained seven macarons, arranged in an ombre color pattern – from a dark brown shell to beige to white. The buttercream and ganache in the center was also in an ombre pattern, going from white to pink to a deep red. They were so pretty, and if Simeon made them, you knew that he must have put a lot of thought into each one. He picked up the one with a dark brown shell and a white center and placed it in front of your mouth to feed you. “This one is dark chocolate, espresso with vanilla buttercream.”

You took a bite. “It’s delicious. Thank you, Simeon.”

“Of course, MC. I wonder, would you allow me to feed each one to you? I could tell you what flavor each one is before feeding you like I did just now.” He couldn’t get the thought of your lips grazing his fingers out of his mind.

Solomon

“MC, I made you something for Valentine’s Day.” Solomon was so cheerful as he said that, but dread filled your veins.

“Oh, Solomon, that’s not necessary. I’m happy just getting to see you today, honestly. I don’t need anything else.”

“Don’t be silly, MC. I obviously had to make something for my lover on Valentine’s Day, especially if you’re going to be receiving gifts from other people. I can’t be the only person to not get you something,” he chuckled and pulled a basket from behind his back. It wasn’t food. You sighed in relief as Solomon continued to explain, “now, the kitchen at Purgatory Hall was pretty packed between Luke and Simeon, so I couldn’t actually cook for you, but I have a lot of experience making beauty and bath products. I made mocha-scented soap, a dark chocolate and lavender bath bomb, and chocolate raspberry perfume.”

You could smell the soap from there, and it was delightful. You weren’t sure whether to be more grateful that Solomon had made you all of those products or that he hadn’t almost committed manslaughter by making you food. You hugged him tightly, “this is wonderful – much better than making chocolates!”

“I’m so glad you like it,” Solomon chuckled before placing a kiss on your neck, “you know, I could help you take a bath tonight if you want.”

Thirteen

“There you are,” Thirteen ran up to you while you were walking around the campus. “Geez, you should make yourself easier to find on a day like today, you know?”

“What?” you asked, confused.

“I shouldn’t have had to try so hard to find you on Valentine’s Day, that’s all. Especially when I finally finished working on your gift,” she feigned her annoyance, an obvious smile giving her away.

“You got me a gift?”

“Don’t act all surprised. Ta-da,” she threw her hands up, motioning towards a mechanical floating sheep that seemed to appear out of nowhere. This was undeniably one of her gadget-like traps. However, you weren’t sure how a trap made for a good Valentine’s gift – aside from that fact that it was cute. “Hey, no need to be worried. He’s 100% safe for you to use. I promise.”

“What’s he do?” you asked.

“Let me show you!” She pulled out a remote and pressed button #1 of 4 – well, actually, it was 3 numbered buttons and one red button. The sheep hovered over you and took out a large chocolate heart and a tiny hammer. It broken open the heart and confetti came floating out over both of your heads. Thirteen laughed, “pretty neat, right? The confetti is made of candy, so you’re welcome to eat it. Want to try another button? Just don’t press the red one.”

“Heck yeah,” you took the remote from here hand. The next button caused the sheep to pull out another heart and break it open. Two small clay chocolate heart charms fell into your hand – one for you and one for Thirteen. The third button dropped a bunch of individually wrapped chocolate hearts. “So, what’s the red one do?”

“This one breaks a heart filled with glitter and melted chocolate over the target. I was wondering if you’d like to try using this one on Solomon with me?”

Raphael

Even though you had made chocolates for Raphael, you hadn’t expected him to prepare a gift for you – especially not one that looked so cute and must have taken a long time. Raphael stood there in the hallway outside of your class, presenting a rather large chocolate macaron plush that required two hands to hold properly. The macaron “filling” even looked like a sheep.

“Did you make this?”

“Yes. I got back into sewing again.”

“For me?”

“Naturally.”

“Oh, Raph. It’s so cute! Thank you,” you took the plush and held it to your chest. It was so squishy and soft.

Raphael couldn’t resist smiling at you. While you were staring at the plush, you heard an airy, gentle laugh. Raphael cut himself short, returning to his placid look when you stared up at him. You had forgotten how sweet his laugh was. He averted his gaze and added, “I figured you could squish it or punch it the next time those brothers give you trouble.”

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles requested your presence in the RAD Newspaper Club room. He unceremoniously handed you a bottle of Demonus. It was clear, even from your limited knowledge, that this was a pretty expensive bottle.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“Demonus – a special chocolate flavored edition, obviously.” What he didn’t mention was that it was an incredibly rare edition from a top-quality brand.

“I know that, but why are you giving this to me?”

“It was a gift from an acquaintance, but I have multiple cases of this one at home,” he said as if he was irritated that you wanted to know why he would give you a present. “Besides, I kind of owe you since you made chocolates for me this year. I’d hate to feel like I was in debt to you, so take it.”

You stifled a laugh at his arrogant façade. He was actually trying to be kind to you in his way. It was like taking the worst parts of Mammon and Lucifer and rolling it into one demon sometimes – but he would protest that comparison angrily. “Thank you, Mephisto. You’re being especially nice today. Although, you really didn’t have to do anything for me. I made chocolates for you because I wanted to, not so you would owe me.”

“Whatever. You can go now,” Mephisto waved you out, but reconsidered as you turned towards the door, “wait.”

“Hmm?”

He undercut his earlier air of indifference by adding, “if you like the Demonus, let me know. I can bring you another bottle or you can visit me, and we’ll have a drink together. I’m certain my collection is better than anything you would get from Lucifer at the House of Lamentation.”

A/N: surprise bonus this week~ I hope you all enjoy this one. Have a good Valentine's Day, and try to enjoy/celebrate love in whatever way in exists in your life.

[nburkhardt]

My beloved baby Pikachu I bring Pokémon ideas~

Eddie as ghost type gym leader whose gym looks like a metal concert and he has his sweetheart strapped to his back at all times

Steve as a water/fighting type gym leader whose gym is half a pool. Everyone is surprised to find this guy in a soft pastel sweater, tight jeans, and the fluffiest hair is the leader. Until he brings put his nail bat as the battle starts.

Everyone thinks they hate each other because they seem polar opposite but no one notices the skull ring on Steve's left hand nor the soft purple sweater Eddie sometimes wears.

They're married your honor!

The Party is a group of newbie trainers that get taken under their wings of course.

🖤❤️🖤❤️🐼

AHHHHH!!! PANDA I LOVE YOU, I already freaked out in dms with you but I’mma say it again: I LOVE YOUR BRAIN, you get ALLLLL the forehead kisses 🥹🥹🥹 I’m sooo gonna ramble away. Maybe not a full fic but my god I’m obsessed. (It’s a full fic, with a surprise pov!)

We’re going to mix up all the gens together (so if you only know some Pokémon, I’ll include pictures at the bottom of the ones I mentioned)

ALSO: if you have any ideas for anyone else’s Pokémon, let me knowwwww.

Onto my rambling fic under the cut 🥰

Here’s the thing, when Dustin decided to take on the gym challenge, he had no idea what he was going to expect.

He didn’t think picking a grass type to start could both hurt and help him between each gym. But Snivy was a little spitfire and like him; dramatic. She didn’t like any of the nicknames he threw out at her. She also didn’t like her pokeball, instead she preferred to sit on his head.

All of his friends were also doing the challenge but he was getting distracted by figuring out more information on each Pokémon instead of just battling. They’re all ahead of him, which, is okay it’s annoying but’s fine.

Especially when he ran into Steve.

Dustin was supposed to take on the fairy gym next but he heard the leader was ruthless. So, he decided to train up a bit. Maybe even evolve Natu and Trapinch. But instead of that, he was grumbling as he carried his very much knocked out, Trapinch to the Pokémon center instead of battling more.

Servine was walking next to him now, too big for staying on top of him when walking. She was also grumbling in her own way, crossed arms and nose in the air.

“We’re trying to get them to evolve, Servine, not knock them out!” He threw out at her getting closer to the center, “can’t believe I let you get your way all the time”

She apparently didn’t like that information and huffed before walking away, which would normally be fine if they weren’t in a new town. So, instead of reaching the Center like he wanted, he turns around to follow her. Returning Trapinch to his ball for now.

“Come ON, Servine I didn’t mean it like that! You’re so good at everything but-” he immediately knocked into somebody and knocked to the floor, “fuck, ow. Dude!”

Looking up he finds a guy, probably in his early twenties with a Mimikyu sitting on his shoulder while a tiny Pumpkaboo floats next to him. Which is a weird combo with the dude’s outfit choice of a soft looking yellow sweater and light wash jeans. “Not my fault you weren’t looking, dude”

Dustin glares up at him before getting up and dusting his legs off, “hey! I’m only looking for my Pokémon, she ran off from me!” Looking around he can’t tell which direction she actually went in, “by any chance you from around here?”

The guy makes a funny assumed face, both ghost pokémon snicker as well- which is so confusing. But he’s not too concerned for that, more so about the fact that his goddamn starter ran off.

“Yeah, you could say I’m from around here. What’s the Pokémon? A tiny Bidoof? Oh or is it a little Oddish?” He laughs and makes a weird hand movement that clearly both ghosts know and move away, “they got a name? That’d be way easier”

Crossing his arms he looks away, “Servine, and no. She didn’t like anything I came up with, so”

The guy’s laugh dies down and he frowns, “what, were the names lame or-” he shakes his head, “you’re upset, sorry, I’m Steve. Let’s find your Pokémon instead of bickering”

“I’m Dustin, and- SERVINE!” His eyes widen as the tiny Pumpkaboo (seriously how is that Pumpkaboo that small?) leads his Servine towards them, “I’m sorry, seriously, you’re the best and that was uncalled for. Are you okay?”

Servine nods and curls into his arms. He doesn’t bother saying anything else to her, cuddles her close and turns to find Steve picking up Mimikyu and whispering to Pumpkaboo, “Thanks. Seriously”

Steve smiles, “no problem, Oz here is pretty good at finding things.” He looks at his watch before wincing, “I gotta run, we’re gonna be late. You at the fairy gym?”

What the- “how do you know?”

Steve gives another funny look before shrugging, “Got an eye for these things, anyway, next gym is ghost. Be wary of him, he’s a little, hm, much. Yeah?”

All he can do is nod and watch as Steve just walks away.

Fairy gyms are brutal, even with Trapinch evolving into Vibrava. His saving grace was Slugma and that was it still rough since it’s fire isn’t that effective against fairy.

Maybe he should’ve gone with more poison types.

But that was two days ago, and now he’s making his way towards the next town and their gym. He is wary. Not only because of what Steve told him but because of running into Lucas.

(Lucas had decided on a water type, Totodile. Which was a little surprising for Lucas but Dustin didn’t question it, the little Totodile was energetic and lovable.)

He was minding his own business trying to figure out whether or not he could, technically, learn how to speak in the Pokémon’s language. When a blue bundle ran towards him, looking around he spots Lucas trying to catch his breath. “Hey! I thought you would’ve been passed this one”

They play catch up and once it’s all been said and done, Lucas shows him where the gym is. It looks fairly normal on the outside but Lucas swears it’s a whole other world inside.

“It’s like a concert, and there’s an actual audience too! Which was overwhelming at first, but once I got my footing it was like they weren’t there” Lucas explains, stopping only once their in front of a normal looking gym, Lucas laughs and shakes his head, “yeah that was my first expression too. I think you’ll enjoy it. Might have a hard time”

He looks away from the building to raise an eyebrow at him, “what does that mean?”

“Dude you picked a grass type as your starter! And you have no dark types!”

Rolling his eyes, “thanks for the encouragement, I’m sure I could handle it. Even with the disadvantages.”

Lucas looked like he didn’t believe him, but it didn’t bother him. Their whole party looked at him funny when he went with a grass type. Hell, Max made fun of him for it.

It didn’t matter, the gym challenge is turning out to be nothing he wanted to do once he’s able. He wanted to be a professor anyway. This was just temporary, even if he gets beat a bunch of times.

Walking inside the gym, he bypasses the annoying tips guy at right next to the door and makes his way to find the actual battle area. Lucas gave him the directions, it was confusing he said.

Sure enough, there’s a goddamn maze and cords everywhere.

After what feels like hours, he makes it to the end and is faced with a stage. Cords and what looks like vines everywhere, sure enough a small audience is there too. It looks all badass and a mix between rock and metal.

As he opens his mouth the lights go away and he has to immediately cover his ears as a loud beat starts. There’s a guitar being played even louder, clearer too. A spot light hits the stage and now he knows who’s playing.

Standing in the middle of the stage is a man. Long frizzy hair, leather jacket over a t-shirt with a band on it, ripped black jeans and black shoes. His guitar really completes the look, red with black lines all over.

The guy plays for a few minutes before stopping and walking closer, “Welcome to my metal concert, you ready for your ass to be handed to you?”

Right as he’s about to open his mouth a little orange and brown blur pops up behind the gym leader, it looks oddly familiar.

The man follows his gaze and groans, shifting his guitar to his back and focusing on the tiny Pokémon next to him, “Ozzy, we talked about this! Either stay in your ball, off the battle field or at home.”

Dustin blinks, moving closer he finds that the tiny Pokémon is a Pumpkaboo. That’s definitely moving and saying something back, which makes the guy shake his head before glancing around.

“Uh-“

“Hold on, I’m trying to find- HONEY LOVE! Come get your child!”

There’s no movement but he hears a snort, then the tiny Pokémon moves away and he sees the gym leader shake his head again, “sorry, that little guy is only a baby. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

The guy’s smile is wild and maybe Lucas was right.

An hour later and Dustin is sitting on the edge of the stage freshly beat and definitely ready to call it quits for the day.

“Did Eds give you a rough time?”

His head snaps up, there’s Steve with Mimikyu on his head and a Vaporeon sitting next to him.

“I just need to do some more training.” He doesn’t want to admit that yes, the gym leader, Eddie, definitely gave him a rough time. It was fun, but Eddie was even more brutal than the fairy gym.

Maybe he just needs to catch a dark type.

Steve nods slightly, making Mimikyu squeak. “Doesn’t hurt to train more, V here” he pats the Vaporeon’s head, causing a pur to happen, “wasn’t the greatest battler, we had to do lots of training. Before you do any of that, want to come have dinner with us? You and your Pokémon can all rest for the night”

Dustin can’t figure out how he didn’t put two and two together. He feels like an idiot right now.

“What do you mean you’re also a gym leader? The final one at that?! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Steve snorts, putting his hands in his pockets as he leads them to a house, “not my fault you didn’t pay attention when the professor talked about the gym challenge to you.”

Crossing his arms he glares at the ground, “yeah well, Professor Owens forgets shit. How is it you’re the water gym leader yet have a ghost type with you?”

There’s an amused smirk on Steve’s face and what sounds like a giggle come from Mimikyu, “I might specialize with water types, I do have a fond experience with ghost types. And dude, it’s okay to try catching other types. I just so happen to work better with water types. Queen here was a gift, basically, my partner found an egg and gave it to me.”

He nods because Steve’s right, it is nice to use all different types. Though if he did only pick one, grass or bug type is where he’d stick with.

“Alright” Steve smiles and comes to a stop, “we’re here, once we get inside you can let your Pokémon out.” He leads them up to a door and Dustin takes in the mixture of aesthetics.

There’s clearly two different personalities living in this house, whoever Steve’s partner is, definitely enjoys the darker aesthetic compared to Steve. Who gives off a more pastel aesthetic. Not that he fully knows, he’s still going off or how Steve is dressed.

“Hey baby, I brought a guest!”

They both hear a crash and then a curse. A Gengar floats out of the kitchen and snickers as it stops in front of Steve, “What did you do?”

“He’s over the moon for beating up a Nin- woah! Honey love, you brought the kid I just beat?”

Blinking hard because there’s no way, Dustin also rubs his eyes before looking over at the kitchen doorway. His vision clears and yep, there’s the gym leader, Eddie, standing there in a pastel purple sweater and black sweats with his Decidueye leaning behind him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, seriously?”

Steve outright laughs and pats his shoulder, “dude, you’re face. Oh man, should’ve taken a picture.” He moves closer to Eddie and presses a kiss to his cheek, “He looked so sad after the defeat, I had to.”

Eddie shakes his head, amusement clear on his face, “Honey, you gotta warn people when you bring them over. Even if they look like a kicked Eevee”

He scruffs and looks away from the couple to find the Pumpkaboo, Ozzy apparently, next to him. It makes him groan, “I’m an idiot, you’re the one who found Servine!”

Ozzy nods excitedly before floating down and nudges his bag, confused he opens it and Ozzy dances around him. He’s curious and looks over at the couple, “uh, what?”

“He’s asking you to let your Pokémon out, they’ll enjoy some play time and food.” Eddie answers and looks at the time, “which is done by the way. Come on, let them out and we’ll give you some tips”

Shrugging, he does just that, all his Pokémon looking around curiously before spotting the backdoor where Ozzy and Steve are now in front of. All of them rush over and Steve laughs before opening the door, letting all of his Pokémon outside.

“Don’t worry, we got a fence and there’s food already out there.”

He can only nod and watch as his Pokémon all play together with Steve’s and Eddie’s Pokémon.

Dustin doesn’t know how he ended up here, honestly, he’s sitting inside a home that belongs to two gym leaders. Who are not only two of the strongest ones but also married to each other. Of all the things he was learning, this might’ve been the most surprising.

————

I’m gonna end it there because if I keep going this post will be stupid long (it already is 😅) BUT!! I decided to make this into a series!! It’ll be a fun one that I could write and post whenever I want. Can switch up povs and everything this way. Please don’t ask me why I went with Dustin’s pov this time around, I don’t even know. I just..kept going.

Anyway! If you enjoyed this let me know what you think and if you have any ideas/suggestions you can totally leave me some!!

Taglist: (sorry if you don’t like Pokémon 😂)

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @bookworm0690 @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @strangersteddierthings

Here’s the graphs of the Pokémon I have mentioned and also the full teams of the main three (Dustin, Steve & Eddie) and also Lucas’ totodile (didn’t come up with his full team)

[padfootagain]

The Last Ones On Earth (IV)

Chapter 4: An Age

Hello, hello! Here is a new chapter for my Darkling series!

I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

****

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warnings for the series: mentions and depictions of violence and warfare, mentions of trauma

Warnings for the chapter: None

Summary: You and the Darkling are a team, even if no one knows it. Beyond being a team, you are the only one he trusts, and he's the only one you care about, and you're each other's true love. But if you've kept your secrets hidden for a long time, now that the Sun Summoner is fighting against you, it's time to reveal who you are, and what you are capable of...

Word Count: 2744

Masterlist for the series – The Darkling’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Alina stares at you as if you were a ghost. Or perhaps a dragon. Or a strange mix of both.

You give her a minute to register your words, you can almost call them a threat. You doubt that she’s weighing her options, though. You reckon she simply tries to understand what your words mean.

And then it’s back. The pride in her gaze, the rise in her chin, the tightness in her jaw.

Stupid girl who believes herself important…

“You say you want to talk, and yet you use threats already.”

“Who was put in chains to see you again?” you reply with amused sarcasm.

“And we were clearly right to mistrust you,” Zoya crosses her arms before her chest, her beautiful features slightly distorted by anger.

“Indeed!” you shoot her a smile. “It was pretty reckless to let me see all of you so easily.”

“David vouched for you,” Genya replies in a grim fashion, and David averts his eyes to stare at the carpet.

But your smile softens as you turn to him.

“Thank you, David. That was very nice of you.”

You turn towards Alina again. You notice that her hands ae touching.

Your smile grows, this time, more threatening, almost predatory.

“Child, let’s not make a mess. I simply want to talk, I haven’t come to hurt anyone.”

“Say that to the soldiers outside.”

“Collateral damage, I’m afraid,” you shrug. “I’m not going to hurt anyone in this room, I promise.”

“If you side with the Darkling, is your word worth anything?”

You raise a surprised eyebrow.

“If you truly knew him, you’d know how foolish that remark is. The Darkling is a lot of things, but he does stay true to his words.”

“And by ‘a lot of things’, you do include mass murderer, of course,” Nikolai points out.

“Coming from a man whose main occupations are pirating and inventing mass-destruction weaponry, I do find the remark particularly ironic.”

But you heave a sigh, tired of losing time you don’t have. There is too much work to do. Grisha to rescue, friends to bury, a whole nation to lead…

“Now, please, Alina. Again, I will not hurt you, so come sit down so we can talk.”

“I’ve never liked you,” the girl mumbles under her breath, her hands slowly moving, and you can see glow coming from her fingertips.

You roll your eyes.

“If I fought every person I didn’t like, only three people in this room would still be alive, including me. And you would not be breathing anymore, Starkov. But as I can’t choke you to death with my bare hands the way I truly long to, please, don’t do anything stupid and sit down.”

With a frustrated sigh, Alina closes her fists, but lets her power subside, and at long last, joins the gathering around the wooden table again.

“We will not yield when it comes to destroying the Fold,” Alina stubbornly declares.

“I am aware of repeating myself, but it will not work without the Fold,” you reply.

“You cannot destroy entire villages!”

“You cannot force people to change if you give them a chance to remain as they are.”

“People can change.”

“They can,” you nod in agreement. “But most of the time, they don’t want to. Why would they? If what you are asking for goes against their own interest, why would they change?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

You snort at that.

“Please… Don’t be so naïve. Of course, some people have enough compassion to not hurt Grisha. But the majority will take centuries to reach this kind of tolerance. And in the meantime, people are dying. Our people.”

“We are all Ravkan,” Nikolai argues.

“Are we? Because when I was arrested by your men a few weeks ago and kept in a cage without water, food, or anything against the cold for three days, waiting to be executed that more Grisha were captured because, and I quote ‘it would be a waste of energy to set up the gallows just for a couple of them’… without any sort of trial or justice whatsoever, I did not feel very Ravkan… but I did feel very much Grisha.”

Nikolai doesn’t answer, instead he looks guiltily at his hands.

“I don’t care about Ravka,” you answer in honesty. “I don’t care about Shu Han, I don’t care about Fjerda, or any other nation. At the end of the day, we are all humans. And we are Grisha, and otkazat’sya. The Fold is not to be used as a threat against Ravka alone, that’s the whole point. It’s the only weapon in our possession that is powerful enough for all Grisha to be safe, no matter where they come from.”

“I do not condone what has been done to you,” Nikolai finally speaks, his voice slow and measured. “But if people are turning against Grisha, it is because of the Darkling’s actions.”

You roll your eyes at that.

“This has been going on for centuries, it is nothing new, they simply have an excuse to do as they please without any repercussion, and they enjoy their newly-found freedom to slaughter all the Grisha they want. It happens again, and again. We have tried to be useful, we have tried to prove people we are no threat, we have tried working hand in hand with kings, and it doesn’t work. The Fold is our last chance.”

“You speak as if you had done all of that, but you are barely older than us,” Zoya spits in a venomous tone. “Who do you think you are, Maeve?”

“Y/N,” you interrupt her.

The girl frowns.

“What?”

“My real name is Y/N. Maeve is only my latest identity, I’ve had many of those before.”

Suddenly, Alina’s eyes grow round, and she finally seems afraid of you.

At long last, some intelligence…

“Are you a spy?” David asks, taken aback by your statement.

But you shake your head.

“Not exactly.”

“You are like him.”

All turn to Alina as she speaks again, her voice uneasy.

“You said you are a powerful Durast.”

“Incredibly powerful,” you correct her.

“You are like the Darkling.”

“Aleksander. That’s his name.”

He’ll hate you for saying it out loud, for revealing something so personal about him.

Aleksander. His first name, his true one. The one only you and Baghra know. The one that tastes of the young man you met all these years ago, unconscious in the snow somewhere near Fjerda…

 All around the table frown. As if they never wondered what his name was. And perhaps they truly never cared to wonder. Perhaps the title was enough. It’s easier, anyway, to stare at a man you send to die on a battlefield and see only a rank, a title, and not the human wearing it. It’s easier too to kill an enemy if he is but a shadow, a symbol, and not an actual breathing man.

You lean a little over the table, your forearms resting on the hard surface, your fingers intertwining together.

“Aleksander and I are extremely powerful Grisha. Just like you, Alina. Just like Baghra. Just like Saints.”

“I don’t understand,” Mal admits.

“Grisha draw great strengths from using their powers. The more powerful you are, the better your health. Some of us are so powerful, we are virtually immortal. Or, well, if you smash my head with a sword, I will die. But I barely age at all. I can leave for thousands of years.”

“Bullshit,” Nikolai curses.

“I’m afraid not. It is a great curse, indeed. But power always has a cost.”

“Some would consider themselves lucky to never age. Especially my mother, considering all her efforts to hide her true age…”

“Well, my dear prince, your mother has not seen people dying for hundreds of years.”

Again, Nikolai looked away.

“You said that Alina was like that too…” Mal insists, and you don’t fail to notice the way Alina flees his gaze.

“Indeed. She will without a doubt outlive all of you, and your descendants on many generations.”

“If it’s so unbearable, why are you still alive? We wouldn’t be in this mess if you and the Darkling had given up,” Zoya adds bitterly.

But when you turn to her, your stare is filled with a cold fire that shushes her.

“Many powerful Grisha kill themselves, after a while, after it’s too much to see all the people you love die over and over again. Aleksander and I were lucky, we found each other. And don’t forget that without our efforts, the Little Palace would not exist and Grisha would have never known any type of safety. We were the first to manage to live for longer than a couple of years at the same place, while using our powers, and remain safe.”

“You speak as if you were there when the Little Palace was built,” David frowns.

“I was there,” you correct him. “I built the place. Literally. I am a Fabrikator, after all.”

“You do expect us to believe you?” Mal scoffs, but Alina shushes him quickly. And you can see on the faces of the others that their opinion of you changes as they realize that Alina does, indeed, believe you.

And rightly so. After all, you are telling the truth. The way you had planned to do.

You choose your next words carefully.

“I have seen the same pattern again and again. I know what will happen, because I have seen it before. I have tried every other way to help Grisha: hiding, fighting, being useful, being tamed, being strong… it doesn’t work. It never works, because otkazat’sya are afraid of our power, because they feel different and thus frightened. You ask me to wait, that we are in no rush to change the world, but I have been working towards that goal for hundreds of years. I am not in a rush, I am patient, indeed. But things must change, eventually. And we have an opportunity here that will never present itself again for things to finally go the way we want.”

You heave a sigh, and you seem tired now. Despite your face untouched by the many years you have spent on this earth, there is something new in your gaze, a sadness that doesn’t fit the youth of your features. It seems ancient, brought by a pain too great to have occurred in only a lifetime.

“If you want proof, I can tell you everything you want to know. I’ll tell you how Aleksander and I met. How we ran. How we hid. How we fought. All the things that we tried to help Grisha and how it always failed. How we were betrayed and how we survived. If it can prove my point, then so be it.”

“How old are you?” Alina asks after a short silent.

Her voice is cautious, slow. As if she’s afraid of your answer. And perhaps she is. She should be. After all, it shows how powerful you are, how much of a threat you can be. To her, who is doomed to a deathless life as well, it also means facing the truth about her lover.

Your smile is smug when your lips curl upwards and you answer.

“I’ll turn 889 in a couple of months.”

Over 400 years ago

Os Alta – over the grounds of the royal Palace

Your hands moved relentlessly in those days. There was so much work to be done. You had help, of course, from otkazat’sya workers but also from other Fabrikators. It was the name that was chosen for the Grisha sharing your powers, along with a colour: purple, like the petals of flowers, like berries, like poisons…

But on this room, your work was to be done in solitude. No one could know about the changes you were bringing to Aleksander’s War Room. It would protect you from eavesdroppers, fire, and many other threats. It would be a safe room. Even if Aleksander’s plan in the army seemed to be working for now, you reckoned you couldn’t stop being cautious. You needed safety, as always.

“You are working too late, my love.”

The warm voice filled your heart with something both peaceful and excited. You couldn’t refrain a smile as you turned to your husband, who was walking inside the room and closing the door behind him.

“You must rest,” he insisted, but you shook your head.

“I am perfectly fine. Besides, I can’t work on this room during the day, it’s too risky.”

Of course, he knew you were right. Still, he wished you could rest more, he wished you could be safe and wouldn’t have to hide…

Soon. He hoped it could be soon. With this safe haven you were building together, it could be the answer to everything. Perhaps it could even be a home…

You chuckled fondly as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close.

“You’re distracting me!” you complained in faked annoyance, and Aleksander knew perfectly what you were doing.

“You love it.”

“I do not! I am busy!”

“And I am tired and long for a good night of sleep in a comfortable bed with my beloved wife.”

“Is it not too risky?”

“We are safe for now, let’s enjoy it, while it lasts.”

“Do you think this could be it? That we could finally remain safe?”

“I do not know. I hope so.”

“But we’re both too old for foolish hopes, huh?”

You exchanged a sad smile.

“We should not be seen as a couple,” Aleksander went on, and he knew he was breaking your heart a little by saying that, the same way he was breaking his own. “It would be too dangerous.”

“I agree. We are both powerful, we will live long lives… It would be too frightening for the otkazat’sya.”

“Build us a room where we can be ourselves, my love. We will pretend the rest of the time.”

You turned in his arms to face him, and his hand immediately raised to rest over your cheek.

“I’ll make you pay for that,” you warned him, and he raised a surprised eyebrow.

“Really? Will you? And how could I repay this debt towards my favourite Fabrikator?”

“An awful lot of kisses will be required. And some cakes. Lots of sweets.”

You both laughed at that, despite your shared tiredness, despite all the things you had been through. A bright laugh made of bright hope, a fool’s hope perhaps, but hope all the same. The sounds filled up the empty room, and echoed in its blank space.

“So, we’ll hide that we are married?” you asked after growing quiet again, and Aleksander nodded, although you could see it pained him to do so.

“It’s safer this way. If I am to step up, I will have many enemies.”

You nodded, tugging your head on his chest, so he could rest his chin on you.

“We’ll make it work,” you reassured him, feeling the tension in his body, the fear too. “We’ll make it work, Aleks.”

“I know. I’m just… worried that you might… that I might lose you.”

“You won’t lose me. I’ll be right there. And I’ll steal an awful lot of kisses in this room.”

“Is it safe already?”

“Safe enough for us to have this conversation, yes.”

“Can you lock the door?”

“Already done it.”

He chuckled.

“You’re getting good at using your powers without moving your hands.”

“I still had to move a finger, but my hands didn’t touch.”

“That’s my wife. So powerful.”

But he felt you tensing in his gentle hold.

“It will be worth it, right? All these moments together we’ll have to sacrifice, all this fighting, all this work… tell me it will be worth it. Tell me we’ll make it.”

He took your face in both his hands to force you to look up at him.

“It will be worth it,” he assured you, and in his dark eyes, you saw no lies nor doubts. “We will make it through. You and me, the way we have planned. The way we promised each other we would.”

“Until we’re the last ones on Earth?” you still asked in a trembling voice, even if you didn’t doubt him.

He nodded, a smile on his lips as he pulled you in a tight hold again.

“Until we’re the last ones on Earth, my love.”

*****************************************

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @wolfmoonmusic @budugu @sayumiht

[sewers-headmates]

hello!! ^^ we were wondering if we could have a subsys based off of mouthwashing /nf

sure. they might be a bit short due to uhhh being a subsystem of 5 that’s like a lot. also i’m doing it because i genuinely love my source. i am not including many transIds in this maybe one or two per person. we can make a seperate thing with the transIDs but i just can’t rn for reasons. also based off of my memories

Subsystem Name: Tulpar Subsystem, Pony Express, Trapped Subsystem

Subsystem Innerworld: The Tulpar

Subsystem Tag: can mix any of these 🪐🩸🌙🔪🥩☄️🚀

Name: James, Jimmy, Jim, Captain

Age: 34

Gender: cis male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: gay

Species: human, transLamb

Source: mouthwashing

Roles: subsystem host, delusion holder, psychosis holder, persecutor on occasions

cisIDs: brown hair, depressed, delusional, psychosis, harmed, abused, harmful, OCD, PTSD

transIDs: permaDepressed, permaSad, transLamb, transLambEars, transLambTail, permaPsychosis, transAngelWings

trisIDs: trisHarmed, trisAbused, tris🍇ed, trisHarmful, trisAbuser, tris🍇ist

Paraphiles: sadomasochist

Other Stuff: he is almost never really in a right state, contently believes he is the lamb of god and he is good, curly helps him figure out what’s real and fake so their normally always together

Appearance:

Name: Grant Curley, Curley, Captain

Age: 34

Gender: trans male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: gay

Species: human

Source: mouthwashing

Roles: protector, caretaker specially for Jimmy, soother also specifically for jimmy but anyone

cisIDs: blonde, appearance shifter, burned, blue eyes, neurotypical, disabled, limbless

transIDs: transShapeshifter, permaBurned, transPTSD, transBeloved

Other Stuff: does his best to keep the peace though will maybe go a bit far for Jimmy (weither it’s /p or /r). he’ll always see jimmy as his childhood friend and as that kid

Appearance:

Name: Anya

Age: 30

Gender: cis female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: asexual bi-lesbian

Species: human, transBunny

Source: mouthwashing

Roles: trauma holder, doctor, medical alter

cisIDs: brown hair, brown eyes, mexican, dyslexia, PTSD, age regressor, sex repulsed

transIDs: transBunny, transBunnyEars, transBunnyTail, permaScared

trisIDs: trisHarmed, tris🍇ed

Other Stuff: she tends to keep to herself though will tend to stay around Swansea becoming a pseudo daughter figure to him, tends to be regressed a lot

Appearance:

Name: Swansea

Age: 65

Gender: cis male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: straight

Species: human

Source: mouthwashing

Roles: caretaker, father figure, protector

cisIDs: human, ukranian, elderly, anger issues, recovering alcoholic, PTSD, exhausted, dude is just tired a lot and grumpy

Other Stuff: tends to take a father role to the rest of the crew, also pretty good and calming jimmy down, hates the internet

Appearance:

Name: Daisuke, ダイスケ

Age: 20

Gender: nonbinary, moonboy

Pronouns: they/them, he/him, moon/moons, glow/glows, star/stars

Sexuality: bisexual

Species: human

Source: mouthwashing

Roles: mood booster, energizer, online manager

cisIDs: human, japanese, alcoholic, drug addict, social, intern, clumsy, brown hair, dyed hair, brown eyes, ADHD

transIDs: transAutistic, transFangs, transCatPupils, transCatTail

Paraphiles: masochist, autobiastophilia, aptophilia

Other Stuff: the most chronically online of the system, views swansea as a father figure and jimmy as an older brother, doesn’t take ANYTHING seriously, really chronically online ngl

Appearance:

i hope you enjoy. i miss my source a lot…this was really nice to make. i relize the first one is just me though ooops. i guess you can all get your own mod jimmy if you want that for some reason??

-mod jimmy

[spiderlandry]

Yes, Chef — ethan landry

Description: The most loving thing one could do is cook for someone else. Ethan finds out it’s your love language.

Pairing: Ethan Landry x GN!Reader

Warnings: implication that reader is shorter than ethan, no ghostface, amber was reader’s ex but it’s only a small mention, lmk if there’s any warnings i should add !! there may be some errors since i only edited this once

Word Count: 3k

Author’s note: i wrote with a poc reader in mind, and much of reader’s experience with cooking is based off my own

Chad is starting to get worried. Exams are in a month, and even though everyone he knows is working hard to prepare, it’s like Ethan is studying as if exams are next week. Chad thinks he can even hear his roommate talking in his sleep sometimes.

He wakes up to Ethan being up at the crack of dawn, a large cup of coffee in hand and deeper bags under his eyes than yesterday.

So, yeah, it’s concerning.

He already tried to coax him into taking more care of himself, but Ethan waves it off. He’s tried other things: getting Sam to scold him, try to get him to go out and party so he’ll get tired, having Quinn threaten him.

If nothing happens, he may resort to putting sleeping pills in Ethan’s coffee.

However, there is one more thing.

You.

Ever since Ethan was introduced to the rest of his friends which included you, he’d been paying more attention to his appearance and how he’s perceived. At first Chad thought he might’ve had a crush on Tara, but Ethan slipped up one time when he not very casually asked if you were going to a group hangout, a few weeks ago.

Chad can use that knowledge to his advantage, he realizes.

Knowing you since freshman year of high-school, you’re a naturally caring person, though can be quiet or a little closed off especially since the Woodsboro murders in which you discovered that your ex-girlfriend was one of the killers.

Your gentle nature, along with his crush, can surely save Ethan from burning himself out so much that he’ll show up to finals only a skeleton, right? Hopefully.

Chad prays he’s right as he sends you a text, Friday evening.

Chad

Hey, can I ask a favor

                    depends

Might be a little weird but u know how ethan has been studying rly hard?

                    yeah u said u were worried. is he ok?

Yeah he’s fine mostly. Im just worried so Im asking if you can

like

Ask him to hang out or something

                    ? why

                     not that i would mind but why

Youre the one he would say yes to I already tried other stuff to get him to relax but man looks like hes about to pass out

Idk I have a feeling its more than about school but its not my place and I think he would open up to u

You know he has a crush on u right

                      i dont believe u but ill do it

Bro dont even act like u dont like him too

                      shut up

You roll your eyes at your phone, already coming up with a plan for a way to get Ethan to chill out. That’s when you think of it.

Ethan allows himself to sleep in during the weekends. But when he wakes up at 11 AM to a text from you that was sent at six, he immediately regrets it.

He opens his phone to read it.

hey i have this new recipe i wanna try but i need a second opinion

wanna come over after work? i get off at 5

He rubs his eyes, making sure he’s reading it right. You? Inviting him? To come over to your place alone?

He’s not proud of the way he gapes at the message for a long moment before he can answer, responding with a ‘sure!’ despite the word not conveying his excitement mixed with the worry at the pit of his stomach. Why are you inviting him alone? He can’t let himself think that it’s anything other than friendliness, right? But you only invited him, so it must mean something.

He rushes to his closet to pick out his outfit, already forgetting about the unfinished page of notes on his desk.

Ethan has known you for a good few months, since the beginning of the school year. But at this point, he’s memorized your smile and your voice, becoming less subtle as time goes on. He pays attention to every single thing you’ve said about yourself, including but not limited to how you almost went to culinary school. He remembers how you once baked a cake for Tara’s birthday, not only the batter from scratch but also the buttercream frosting. He smiles at the memory of you showing the group how to make pasta one night.

To say he’s excited is an understatement.

He doesn’t even bother getting his coffee this time so his breath doesn’t smell like it.

Chad notices that Ethan’s usual cup is still in the cupboard, mentally patting himself on the back for getting the idea to reach out to you.

It’s not long until it’s almost five, and Ethan is walking the few blocks over to your apartment, enjoying the wind. He knows not to show up empty handed, so he stops at a bodega to buy your favourite chips.

You‘d gotten home a little early due to your workplace not being too busy, thankfully. You start prep, laying out the ingredients. The knock from your door reaches your ears a few minutes later, and knowing it’s Ethan you open the door.

You’re greeted with a bag of chips to your face, taking it and seeing Ethan have a slight upturn at the corner of his lips. You mirror his expression, albeit with a wider smile (you can’t help it), letting him into your apartment. He sits down at the breakfast bar facing into the kitchen, while you stand on the other side facing him.

This isn’t the first time he’s been here, but it is the first time he’s here alone. With you. He tried to get rid of the images in his head of him being over at your place every day because you want him to be there. He can’t think like that, not now when you’re beaming up at him while you showcase the ingredients on the kitchen counter, your sentences going into one ear and out the other.

“…Ethan?” Your brows are furrowed, not knowing if he’s paying attention. You quickly catch that he’s not—he has to think for a moment about what to say.

“Uhm—“ he clears his throat. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening. What?” He mentally cringes at himself. He’s sure you’d think he’s not interested and oh god, what if you think he doesn’t want to be there?

You laugh lightly. “I said do you like steak? I mean, I probably should’ve asked, but—“ You’re glad he stops your ramble before it goes any further.

“I like it, don’t—don’t worry.”

“Okay, good. Because this would’ve been awkward.”

Ethan is determined not to let any weird silences happen, so he continues despite not knowing what to say. His curiosity gets the best of him. “Not that I don’t want to, but why did you invite me here? I mean…just me.”

You try to brush it off, coming up with an excuse. “I invited Tara, but she couldn’t make it.” You turn back to the ingredients to get started.

He’s glad you’re not facing him to see his shoulders practically deflate finding out that he’s not the first choice. He’s not sure why he got his hopes up so much.

Before he can say anything else, you interrupt his train of thought. “Wanna help?”

He stands up quickly, eager. “What do you need?”

Truthfully, you’d made this dish a thousand times before that you could do it in your sleep. You’re not about to try anything new when your main objective is to take Ethan’s mind off things.

“How are you with knives?” You ask, taking out a chef’s knife from the knife holder. His eyes widen, begrudgingly taking the object from your hand.

“This is gonna sound—nevermind,” He shakes his head.

“Tell me.”

“I’ve never had to…cook before.”

“Oh,” you sigh. “That’s fine. Do you not want the knife?”

“I do! I just—how do I use it?”

You smile, an image he wishes was burned into his mind. You slide the cutting board toward you, putting a handful of asparagus in the middle.

Ethan can’t help but stare at your hand at the way you delicately go through the motions of cutting, slowly to make sure he sees it. You show him how to trim the asparagus, and you give him back the knife to try.

A spark tingles throughout his hand when you put yours on it to guide him.

“Just trim all of these. Got it?”

He nods.

You prepare the steak on a separate cutting board alongside him.

“Can I ask why you’ve been studying so hard, E?”

The nickname isn’t lost on him, but he tries his best to ignore it before he accidentally cuts himself.

“Finals next month,” He says curtly.

“Is that the truth?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me. But I’m not trying to force you.”

He pauses. “Can we change the topic?”

You nod, “You pick. Turns out I’m terrible at conversation. Can you fill up a pot of water for the mini potatoes? And put some salt in it.”

“How long have you been cooking?” He puts the asparagus in the bowl they were previously in and doing as you say. With the way he gets the question out so fast, you’d think he’d been thinking about it.

“As a kid, I was around a lot of people who knew how to cook,” you begin while you prepare a pan on the stove, melting the butter. “I learned from them. International dishes, mainly. Lots of spices. But I moved to New York and started working in a kitchen when I was sixteen, so I learned about some European pastries and white people food.” You chuckle.

There’s something with the way you talk about food that makes his chest warm. It’s unfamiliar, but a welcome feeling nonetheless. It’s different from how you talk about other things—this one feels more intimate.

You continue. “I think you know, but I almost went to culinary school.”

He does know. He wonders why you didn’t go.

“I took cooking classes as an elective at my high-school. I was lucky they offered that. Senior year, I was a stage for some really pretentious restaurants—y’know, mainly as a server, but I got to know how the kitchen worked.”

He hasn’t even noticed that the butter is almost all melted on the pan and you’ve put some rosemary and thyme on it until you pause to turn to him.

You grab the cutting board with the steak on it, placing it next to the stove.

“They were the kinds of places that served small portions for high prices.” You stared at the stove, turning up the heat.

“Why didn’t you go to culinary school?” He timidly asks.

“The people,” You say it so quietly at first that he almost missed it. “I met people who made the kitchen pretty much unbearable. There was shouting…lots of it, actually. The crazy high standards. They didn’t shout at me, but seeing it from the sidelines was worse…somehow? I don’t know.”

He finds himself wanting to have a stern word with whoever made you feel that way about something you so clearly love.

He’s about to ask another question before you interrupt him.

You pick up the steak from the board, motioning for him to come closer. “Always lay away from you,” you say. “Otherwise you splash oil on yourself, ‘kay?”

He nods. He continues with his question. “Do you regret it?”

He doesn’t realize how heavy of a question it is until after he says it, and he’s going to retract his statement but you respond.

“No, actually, I don’t.”

There’s a sweetness in your voice that’s hard to catch, but for Ethan’s ears, it’s as if they’ve been attuned to your tone.

“If I went to culinary school, I would’ve started to hate it—“ You grab the tongs, using it to push the sides of the steak to the pan, “—That’s searing. You seal in the juices when the surface browns, see that?—“

When he nods, you proceed.

“I grew up believing that cooking was a way to care about people, you know? Like a love language. And If I made cooking my career, that’s not what it would be for me. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, yeah. It does.”

Once all the sides are seared, you grab a spoon and you slightly tilt the pan, using the utensil to coat the steak in the melted butter. “That’s basting. So it doesn’t lose moisture. Every time you flip a steak, it loses moisture, so just do it once.”

He thinks he’s getting repetitive when he nods once more to show that he’s actually listening.

It’s not long until the steak is done, and he’s excited to get it on the plate but instead, you put it on a baking sheet and cover it in tin foil.

“You’re next.”

His head snaps up toward you, sputtering, “What?”

“Do you want to learn?”

“Yeah—“

“Then get to work.” You smirk, and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t awaken something in him. You point to the other steak in the packaging.

He tries to remember the steps you did, but you do have to remind him what to do occasionally.

You’re standing close to him, almost hovering, but he doesn’t mind one bit. In fact, he almost leans in instinctively when you bring your hand up to his face and pushes his curls out of his face.

“You’re doing good,” you whisper.

It takes everything inside him not to collapse right there. He’d give everything to feel your hand on his face again.

You’ve set two plates on the counter. The mini potatoes were boiled nicely, and you cut them swiftly in half (a feast for Ethan’s eyes). Ethan watches while you quietly as you carefully plate the food, and he can’t help but look around him. The used pan, the knives, cutting boards, you plating the food—there’s an element of domesticity.

It’s in the way you flash a smile directed at him and only him, in the comfort of your own home, after you’ve just cooked together. He imagines a future where it’s like this every night.

You open the fridge, grabbing out two sodas. As you turn around Ethan is surprisingly close to you.

Only a few inches away.

He slowly takes the cans from you, setting it on the space next to him. All as if he’s about to wake a sleeping dragon if he were to move too quickly.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks, almost in a pleading whisper. His eyes are boring into yours, and you can’t bring yourself to look away.

“I told you.” Your tone mirrors his. “Cooking is a way to take care of someone, and I care about you.”

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do the next thing.

He brings himself closer to you, not breaking the eye contact.

Suddenly, everything makes itself known. Your breathing, shallower than his, anticipating his next move. The way your clothes touch. The cold air coming from the fridge.

He brings his hand to touch your jaw, it’s a feather-like sensation as his digits make contact with your skin. “Is this okay?”

You gulp and nod, unable to find the words.

“Need to hear you say it.”

In the lowest whisper, “Yes.”

He lifts your chin, tilting his head.

It’s a tiny pause until you’re the one taking the leap, closing the small distance and slotting your lips against his.

Everything falls away, and nothing else matters. His lips are soft. You feel his large hands go to your neck and you wrap your arms around his torso, trying to get impossibly closer.

You’re the first to pull away and you grin when he chases your lips.

“Hi,” You beam. “W—what was that for?”

“You tell me,” he smiles.

You anticipate the night to end when you’re both finished the food and the drinks, and you’ve cleaned up the kitchen.

But neither of you want it to end.

You cross your arms, facing Ethan who’s reluctantly about to open the door.

“Wanna stay?”

He turns around, tilting his head like a cute puppy. “Thought you’d never ask.”

That’s how you found yourselves cuddling on the couch, a new show on your television.

“I have to tell you something,” you whisper, eyes still on the screen.

“Hm?”

“Chad told me to ask you to hang out.” You grimace. “And before you say anything, I didn’t invite you just because of him. I was worried about you too.” You look up at him, the proximity comfortable rather than awkward.

“I figured.”

“Really?”

His arm tightens around you. “When you asked me why I was studying so hard, I remembered Chad’s been trying to get me out of it. This was his last resort.”

You snort, “His last resort was putting sleeping pills in your coffee.”

“I’m…gonna have to talk to him about that.”

“Can I ask why you’re studying?”

“To distract myself.”

You almost sit up. “From what?”

“Not tonight.” He lays your head against him again, and your trust is in his hands. “Someday.”

And someday, he’ll tell the story about how the week before, he realized he loved you. It scared him so much that it kept him up for days, but the night you kissed would be the day his worries all went away.

[pet-genius]

Excerpt from a SSHG fic that mostly exists in my head

A while ago I wrote, and then abandoned, a SSHG fic called "Soulsavers". I still think about it a lot, and so today I wrote a scene that could fit in it. The premise of the fic is that Hermione travels in time to try to talk young!Snape out of becoming a Death Eater, and they gradually develop feelings for each other. In this scene, the Slytherins at the breakfast table debate an editorial on the Daily Prophet:

Hermione would have been almost perfect, if she had not been so fucking clueless, Severus ‎thought. He shoved aside her inexplicable strokes of near-omniscience, along with the ‎knowledge that, had she been at this school since the start, she'd probably want nothing to do ‎with him, like all the other girls. “Oh, can you believe this utter bollocks,” she said, slamming ‎the Daily Prophet on her half-eaten toast.‎

"Finally, she's getting some sense into that head of hers,” Black remarked. “It's absurd to ‎think our society isn't under threat, even if most of them are just shaved monkeys.”‎ But Severus suspected that Black was merely projecting. Hermione gave Black a cold look ‎and mumbled something about “see how you talk in five months”. Regulus was too busy ‎admiring his own voice to hear her, and Severus already knew he wouldn’t get a straight ‎answer. Hermione turned to him, and asked, “Are people really dumb enough to believe ‎atomic bombs are because Muggles steal magic?! And this is how they justify all this idiotic ‎purity stuff?!”‎

Severus asked himself again, for the thousandth time, what were they teaching them in Australia, and stared into his tea. He knew Muggles, and as far as he could tell, wanton destruction is exactly what they would do with magic.

“Well?!” She demanded.

“Doesn’t it make sense, though? Suddenly, they can do this, and even they don’t fully understand how it works, innit?”

“You can’t expect me to explain how atomic bombs work! They’re the ones claiming Muggles stole magic, they can prove it! How were they even supposed to do it?!”

Severus shrugged. However the Muggles had come by atomic weapons, they still had, so wasn't it only right for them to be contained?

“And look at what this… this… Oh, the writer of this editorial is a Malfoy, of course! So how does suggest enforcing his ideas? You kill all the Muggle-borns, new ones will keep turning up!”

Severus glanced at Lily, who was giving Potter the cow eyes as he read out of the same editorial. “Dumbledore wants us to learn from them. He wants us to let their children mix with ours with nary a thought for preserving our identity,” James orated, exaggerating even his own pomposity.

Preserving our identity… Funny, that. There seemed to be nothing left of the Lily he loved so much, who could see her sister and his father for what they were: resentful, obsessed with their own weakness, believing it entitled them to treat their magical kin like the dirt on their shoes.

“Our secrets and our powers corrupted in their unworthy hands, whilst the Ministry wrestles with the minutiae of the Dark Artifacts Regulation Act,” the older Black continued, and still Lily looked at Potter with naked admiration. Such courage, such chivalry, mocking Dumbledore’s critics in Dumbledore’s own school.

“That's easy, Granger,” Regulus interjected. “You know it was Godric Gryffindor who insisted that the admissions book include every magical child. We could, you know, just have someone alert us when a new name turns up, if they're not born to a proper family. That's what the Trace was originally for, you know.”

“Not according to Hogwarts: A History,” Hermione rebutted. Another issue of hers, she could never help correcting people. Sadly, Black had deep roots in their society, and he reminded her in no uncertain terms that he had a headmaster's portrait in his living room and that she would do well not to correct her betters.

What an ass, he could hear her think, and quietly assented. Even an ass, though, was better than an inveterate criminal.

“Not everyone are as psychotic about it as the Blacks, mate,” Avery said. “Don’t scare our half-blood friend here, you know we want him to join. We don't need to kill their babies, we don't have to stoop to their level.

Severus could feel Hermione tense up, but he could not understand why. Nothing Avery’d just said was false. “We could just... have a separate school for them, to teach them respect for our ways. Then if they prove themselves, their children could study here.”

“Or we do nothing and let them blow themselves up,” a more practical minded younger Slytherin suggested. “Or take their babies and raise them like useful servants, without access to wands, of course,” Matilda chimed in.

The conversation turned to the many ways the Muggle-born question could be dealt with, and Hermione grew pale beside him.

“You can't possibly want to join them, Severus! Listen to them!”

Didn't he? He was wiser, now, than he was at 11. His desperate attempt to cling to Lily had failed long ago, not before costing him years of isolation from the other Slytherins. Of course he would have wanted for it all to be different, for the world to be simple. But it couldn't be. And Severus loved magic too much, and knew the muggles too well, to be that much of an idealist.

“It's rule or be ruled, Hermione,” he said with a shrug. “What makes you think the muggles or their children would rush to help you?”

Hermione had a peculiar (and aggravating) tendency to be very certain of herself, as regards what was right or wrong, and what Severus could or could not possibly want, and then crumble at the first sign of resistance. For all her fiery opposition, he expected her to have a better counter-argument than “But if you believe that, how is the world ever going to change?”

Who said he wanted to change the world? What if he had just–finally–understood it, and how he could thrive in it? And why did Hermione seem so convinced it was down to him how the world would turn out?

There was no use denying it, though. He liked that she made him feel important. He buttered his own toast and smiled at her, and she smiled wanly back. She was almost perfect, and it was far more than he had hoped for not so long ago.

[mystoz]

— how it feels to fall for saihara shuichi.

A/N: not a request, just a sucker for stuff with my fav pretty boy <3

SYNOPSIS: headcanons for what it’s like to fall for and date saihara shuichi.

PAIRING: saihara shuichi x gn! reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: none

ADDITIONAL INFO: reader is gender neutral and uses they/them pronouns, gender is never specified.

WORD COUNT: 1.05k+

PRE-DATING

to fall for saihara is to constantly have that little giddy feeling in your heart when you’re met with something familiar that holds a special place within you.

to fall for saihara is that random rush of happiness you get when pulling an all-nighter.

sighs ,, when i tell you he has my heart

when he finally realizes he likes you, he is such a flustered mess.

it’s almost pitiful

he’ll stutter and stumble over every word, pink to the ears and jaw

touches from saihara pre-relationship will linger much longer than needed.

(they still linger even after you’re dating— a very clingy boy !!)

this includes but is definitely not limited to long hugs, intertwined hands, and linking arms

much to yours and everyone’s surprise, saihara confesses first !

the day he plans is actually quite nice— he takes you out for a stroll in the park and the two of you have a picnic on a hilltop. he knew the stars would be out tonight, so you two stayed atop of the hill and gazed up at the sky, laying down together and chatting amongst yourselves.

your hands are intertwined together, so when he begins to shake slightly, you ask if he’s okay

you best believe he is the most flustered he’s ever been

this boy is drumming his fingers against the ground, stuttering, the poor thing can’t even make eye contact with you

‘ shuichi? are you okay? i can feel your hand shaking, is anything the matter? ’

‘ n-no, uh- well actually, yes, there is- there is something i’ve been wanting to..to tell you for-for a while now. ’

his breathing is beginning to get heavy, his whole body trembling in shame. in fear.

what if you rejected him ?? what if you said no ? what if he ruined what you two already have, what if you never spoke to him again ? what if-

you squeezed his hand to reassure him that he was okay. that he was free to say whatever was on his mind.

‘ i’m right here, shu. it’s okay. you’re okay. ’

he calms himself down, slowly gathering up the courage to tell you what he’s been trying to say for a painfully long time.

‘ i’m so sorry for the trouble, i- uhm, uhm, it’s- ilikeyousomuchy/nilikeyousomuchtothepointwheremyheartisgonnaburstifikeepitinanylongeryoudon’thavetotellmeyoulikemebackijustwantedtoletyouknow- ’

saihara has removed his hand from your own, cradling himself as some form of protection. he’s turning his head away in shame, both because he just bore his heart out to you and because small tears were now spilling over his burning pink cheeks.

you took his hand again and pressed a small kiss to it, resting your hand against his palm.

saihara’s face is mixed with that of confusion and bashfulness, eyes darting back and forth to meet anything but your eyes.

‘ i like you too, shuichi. ’

just rip his heart out right then and there

he starts sobbing with a healthy(not really) mix of relief and happiness

POST-DATING

to date saihara shuichi is the embodiment of floating atop cloud nine. it’s that feeling of happiness when you realize that you have that special someone. when you know there’s somebody out there who loves you. somebody out there who cares about you so much to the point they’d risk their very life for you.

after you two start dating, everyone swears they’ve never seen saihara happier

‘ heehee !! wow, i’ve never seen saihara-chan smile so much ! you should’ve seen him when you weren’t around, n/n-chan !! it was all “y/n this”, “y/n that”, “i wanna kiss y/n soooo much-!!” ’ 

‘ kokichi !! ’

‘ whaaaat ? it’s true, saihara-chan ! ’

‘ i mean, he’s not wrong, shuichi. ’

‘ k-kaede !! ’

needless to say, his friends like to retell tales of saihara’s god awful pining

he is mortified. you think it’s adorable.

saihara loves to give you gifts !! he feels like he owes it to you for being the best lover you could ever be. 

though he gets flustered every time when doing so

he always feels the need to tell you in some shape or form that he loves you, even if you already know it.

speaking of which, failing to give him a constant reminder that he’s loved will result in a whole lot of overthinking and panic.

so make sure to tell him you love him !! whether this be verbally or through your own love language, saihara always needs affirmation when it comes to anything

even just a small “i love you” will mean the absolute world to him

nicknames nicknames nicknames !!!! sometimes they’re purposeful, most of the time it’s a subconscious decision.

“darling, my beloved, sweetheart, dear, my love” are his favorites and what he’ll usually refer to you by.

if you call him nicknames, however, he melts.

you called him pretty boy one time and his whole body went rigid. he stumbled over his words and spoke quietly, a state you hadn’t seen him in ever since he confessed.

a simple yet sweet person. the small things he plans out for your dates or the gifts he gives to you all have some sort of sentimentality behind them. 

saihara is very observant, so he’ll pick up on things you enjoy without much issue.

this benefits the two of you, for he can give you all you want and desire(though you tell him time and time again that just being with him is enough) whilst knowing your likes and dislikes.

he gets so shy about everything. he’s too afraid to do anything with you, so again, affirmation is all he needs. especially when it comes to touching you, it doesn’t come as easily as it does before you got together.

at least, for him.

it’s a must to tell him it’s okay to touch you. he’s so afraid he’ll overstep your boundaries or hurt you. when cuddling, he thinks he’s suffocating you by laying on top of you. when holding hands, he thinks his palms are too sweaty and that his grip on your hand is too tight.

he’s such an over thinker and doesn’t want to mess anything up with you, please tell him he’s doing amazing

dating saihara shuichi is an unforgettable experience that will forever leave you satisfied. he is such a sweet and loving person who is so genuine with you and everything he does. a true gem— please hold onto him and take care of him dearly.

thornesx ©