#everything about his head is incorrect and I hate it

[toki-toro]

Jesus christ

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Selfish - Alastor x Reader Oneshot

You face-planted on your bed, what semblance of energy you had left disintegrating and blowing away in the wind.

Today was too long a day.

Charlie needed some comfort after seeing the news roast the hotel again.

Vaggie needed to be calmed down because everyone got on her nerves.

Angel Dust needed a good hug and reassurance that he was worth something.

Husk had drank too much and threw the empty bottle at you when said as much. (He apologized afterward and the guilt made it easier for you to usher him to bed)

Lucifer was disassociating hardcore and you had to walk him through basic selfcare.

Nifty....Was Nifty.

Not that you minded that they needed different help here and there. Everyone needed a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen to. And as far as you were concerned, it really was the least you can do. You couldn't fix their problems, but you can carry some of the load for them. That was...something, right?

A knock on the door made you grimace. Masking your agitation with a neutral expression, you opened your door to see none other than the Radio Demon himself.

He grinned down at you, his arms crossed behind his back, his posture straight, his clothes smooth and unwrinkled.

But...his grin seemed a bit strained, at the corners.

Alastor was difficult to comfort as he insisted he didn't have emotions anyway. And he hated to be touched. And his favorite food was raw venison or demon meat. So most of your techniques didn't have much ground.

However, he did love to laugh. So when he needed it, you would often play the role of a clown.

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms across your chest and looked up at him with an exaggerated grin.

"Whazzzzah?" You said, intentionally making your voice nasally and high pitched.

Alastor picked you up like a suitcase and carried you back to your bed, sitting you down on the edge of it and kneeling in front of you. His expression didn't change as his eyes flicked over you.

You swallowed thickly. "Er...What bees the ups my dudes?"

No change in expression. No confusion, no mild irritation.

You started to get fidgety. Maybe you needed some new material? You like doing the funny voices and the purposely incorrect grammar, but if he was sick of it it'd be-

You train of through abruptly derailed as Alastor's hand came up to cradle your face. The other one brushing some of your hair out of your eyes. One claw lightly grazed your skin and you winced.

"So Husker's little fit did hurt you, hm?" He said, pressing the pad of his thumb against a spot typically hidden by your bangs - now adorned with a partially scabbed-over cut.

You winced again "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, my dear. I heard what happened between the two of you. The drunkard got a bit too brash and ended up hurting you."

You sighed "It was an accident."

Alastor's eyes narrowed "Ah yes, it's always an accident with you."

You met his glare "What do you mean by that?"

The Radio Demon waved his hand, materializing some first-aid equipment. He didn't even let you know when he applied some antiseptic to your cut making you hiss through gritted teeth.

"A little heads up would've been nice!"

"An accident, my dear."

You deflated immediately "Ah. Okay, sorry-"

"Thank you for proving my point." He cut you off, a slight growl to his voice. Alastor slapped a bandage over your wound and pulled back, glaring at you intently.

"Huh?"

He rolled his eyes "Everything everyone ever hurts you with is an 'accident' to you. No one ever means to hurt you."

You scowled "Husk didn't mean to hurt me!"

"You're allowed to be mad you know." He huffed "Even if it was an 'accident', you could be mad he threw a fucking glass bottle at you!"

"He didn't mean to." You insisted.

"And Charlie didn't mean to dump all her woes on you, and Vaggie didn't mean to make you play peacemaker, and Angel Dust didn't need you to be a therapist. And Lucifer didn't need you to play nurse. And nifty...." he trailed off, unsure how to categorize your helping Nifty today. He shook it off and met your eyes. You glared back at him and pushed him away.

"No! None of them meant to! I chose to-"

"Would it really kill you to be selfish once in a while?" He said, tilting his head. Red eyes narrowed as his ears pinned back on his head.

"Firstly, i'm already dead. Secondly, I'm always selfish!"

"Give me an example."

"WELL, Mister Everything-Is-My-Business, I slept in to like, noon, yesterday-!"

"Because you spent all night listening to Vagatha."

"-and yesterday I ate the last of the spaghetti-!"

"From the meal you skipped while you helped Nifty hunt bugs."

"I hid in my room all day-!"

"Due to everyone not paying any attention to your immense discomfort at their ruckus."

"...You're dumb." You said, crossing your arms across your chest. Alastor rolled his eyes and pushed you down so you were lying on your bed. His hands were on either side of your head as he leered over you.

"Despite doing nothing but listening to everyone's endless ramblings all day, you're immediate reaction upon seeing me is to play jester and make me feel better."

"You looked upset." You said.

Alastor sighed "Exactly your problem, my dear." He moved away so he wasn't pinning you to your bed, calmly removing his monocle to clean it before gingerly placing it back onto his face.

You rolled onto your side to watched him. "...I don't think it's a problem to care."

"It is a problem to care too much."

"Well, you don't care enough so I guess we even eachother out."

Alastor hummed, looking away from you. You bit your lip. Maybe...you pushed that too far? You never really held back the sass with Alastor, but he was already irritated....

"Ask me for something." He said.

"Eh?"

He snorted, ears flopping in agitation "As you said, you care too much, i care too little. So now we'll do this: you care less about what I want and you care more about what you want."

You blinked, confused "....That's. Oddly sweet of you?"

Alastor snorted in response, still locked in a staring contest with the opposite wall. There seemed to be a bit of red creeping up the sides of his face.... Now was he turning red because he was mad or because he was....flustered?

"So. Can i ask you for anything?"

"Within reason."

"....Can I get a hug?"

The record scratch was audible.

"You have the Radio Demon offering you to do a favor for nothing in return, and you ask for a hug?"

"That's what I want?" You said, snuggling underneath your duvet. "Don't worry about it if you don't wanna-"

"Oh for the LOVE OF!" Alastor cut himself off, grumbling something under his breath that did not sound as jovial as his permanent grin may imply.

The man briefly disappeared into a puff of shadows before reappearing under the duvet with you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing your head into his chest.

You laughed. "Was it that hard to just lift the blanket?"

"Quiet, you." Alastor muttered into your hair. You sighed contently, snuggling closer to him.

"Can I hug you back?"

He tensed up next to you, so you dropped it. Despite his insistence on you being selfish, he didn't push you any further. Instead relaxing more as you made no move to hold him.

"Thanks, Alastor. I'm gonna drift off, so you can head out if ya want." You mumbled into his shirt.

"We'll see."

You didn't bother trying to fight sleep, letting the exhaustion of the day catch up with you and your troubles drift away as you listened to the Radio Demon's heart.

Alastor was still there when you woke up, but don't you dare mention it.

[calumfmu]

The King's Reign

King Steve, the stupid nickname you had heard your entire life. The rumors, the huge ego to match. It was everything that made you hate him, especially when your best friend wouldn't shut up about him. Robin was forcing you to be friends with him, but it wouldn't stop the passion you had dedicated to wanting nothing to do with him.

Steve Harrington x reader, enemies to lovers edition, 7.7k+ words

cw: smut, unprotected sex, oral, Steve talking you through it (!!), fingering, angst, tension, 18+, mdni

You had heard rumors of ‘King Steve’ your entire life. Being in a small town like Hawkins allowed every rumor—big or small, to be spread like wild fire. Even when it came to talking about Steve Harrington’s dick. No matter what you did, nothing could allow you to escape the whispers throughout the town.

When Robin had befriended the man of conversation, you were annoyed, to say the least. You could barely escape him when you were trying not to listen to the gossip mill, but it was even harder when your best friend wouldn’t shut up about the guy.

You chewed on a fry, eyes focused behind your friend as you gazed at a group of girls from your school across the way. They were walking into a Tammy’s, hair higher than ever and short shorts hiked up on their long legs. You stared at them, wondering if they had a run around with the guy.

Robin was droning on about something Steve had done today at work, involving a bunch of kids who seemed too young for him.

A fry hit the side of your head, knocking your focus into her instead of the girls across the mall.

“Yn!” Robin sighed, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re not even listening to me.”

“And you would be incorrect,” you responded, smoothing the grease off of your face from where it hit. You grimaced, annoyed at her antics. “You said something about Steve, some kid named Justin, and a stupid handshake or something.”

Robin pressed her lips in a straight line, rolling her eyes once more. They might roll out of her head at this point, you thought.

“His name is Dustin, and the handshake wasn’t stupid, it was cute,” she huffed, throwing her hands in the air. She pushed her food tray away from her, burger half eaten and fries lay abandon across the plastic.

You gasped, leaning across the table and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Woah, Rob.”

She furrowed her brow, wondering what you were getting at.

“I had no idea you swung that way, new development I see.” You wiggled your eyebrows at her, wanting to see how far her patience went. “I just have to know—is it as big as everyone says it is?”

You laughed and leaned back in your chair, blocking your face with your arms as Robin threw a handful of fries at you. Her patience ran out, clearly.

“Yn, can you please be serious for once?” The brunette whined, pouting out her bottom lip as she looked at you. Her infamous begging face. “I’m just telling you because I want you to be friends with him. I can’t be a child of divorce between you. It’s so emotionally draining.”

You giggled, eyeing the way her uniform made her look ridiculous as she begged you. It was rumpled in all the wrong places, red tie hanging loosely at her neck. It made her look like she was perpetually going to a Halloween party.

“How do you think I feel being an actual child of divorce?”

She gaped at you, mouth hanging open as she was at a loss of words. Sputtering, she found the words to say, “Fuck, okay my bad. You know what I meant!”

“I know, Rob, Im just fucking with you,” you laughed, shaking your head as she flushed in the face. She genuinely felt bad, you could tell.

Your parents had recently divorced, next month marking the full year since their split. Tommy and his stupid friends had made it their entire personality and asked you about it ever since the news hit the town. What’s wrong with Mommy and Daddy, they would ask. Daddy found out Mommy slept with the entire town?

You grimaced, thinking about the memories. None of the rumors were true, but that didn’t falter the town people into thinking that you all should be walking around with a Scarlet Letter on your chest.

Shaking your head, you diverted the subject as you hand came to rest of the table. “Me and Steve have never been friends, so you can’t be a child of divorce, Rob. And also, I don’t want to be friends with him.”

Robin stretched her arms across the table, grasping your hand in the two of hers. “Yn, please. I know we both used to hate him-”

“Still do.”

“-but I really think you’ll like him,” she continued, not batting an eyelash at your interruption. “He’s not that same Steve-”

“King Steve.”

“-that everyone talks about. Those rumors are just rumors, I mean, you know how it goes.” She paused when you looked away from her, squinting as you stared unfocused in the distance. You took a deep breath, clearing your throat in discomfort as you turned to look back at her. “Please, Yn?”

You chose silence in this moment, blinking at her with a serious expression on your face as she pouted at you. Her blue eyes were practically watering at this point, long lashes batting rapidly at you.

“Please, Yn.”

Her pleads continued, grip squeezing into your hand as a deadpan expression was being held on your face. This went on for another two minutes (you counted) as she begged you, leaning down every 15 seconds or so to kiss at your hand.

“Okay! Okay, fine, Rob!” You gave in, laughing as she decided to place kisses all over every inch of your hand. She cheered, throwing her hands in celebration before shaking them clasped at the sides of her head, as if thanking an audience for winning an award.

“I literally love you so much, Yn,” she beamed at you, lips stretched thin as she exposed all of her teeth to you. You don’t think she’s smiled this big, ever. “So, tonight, I was thinkin-”

“Tonight?!” Your eyes opened wide, heart beating in your chest as you realized how soon this interaction was going to be. You thought you at least had more than a few hours.

“Oh,” she smirked at you, tilting her head to the side. “Did I not mention that it was tonight?”

Sighing, you trailed a hand down your face, pulling down your features as she shared the details to come. You loved your friend, you really did. She was your best friend, but Christ was she a lot sometimes.

Awkward wasn’t the word to describe the tension in the room. The only sound you could hear was Robin’s nails clacking against the sound of her glass, and Steve’s occasional cough.

You were curled into the side of the couch, Steve on the other, Robin in between the two of you. Steve was looking every which way except the two of you, hand running through his hair as he chewed on his bottom lip. Robin glanced between the two of you, taking sips of her watered down sloppy cocktail in her hand. She kept moving to say something, mouth opening and closing around empty words.

You with your back against the arm of the couch, feet tucked into you as you stared down Steve. You were curious, if they were to ask you. You took in his features, his long hair, giant brown eyes, and navy—is that fucking cashmere?—sweater across his shoulders.

You were observing why him and Robin were friends, why this man had such a hold on your friend. He was attractive, you could admit, boyish features drawing you in, in a way you would never admit in a thousand years. He seemed nervous in this moment, something you hadn’t expected him to be. Cocky, arrogant, rude, brash, anything but this.

But he was still King Steve. The man you had heard about since you went to elementary school together. You were forced to listen to stories of Steve kissing girls underneath the jungle gym evolved to him fucking them in the back of his BMW at the drive-in. It was repulsive.

Robin cleared her throat, drawing your attention away from Steve as his into her. She offered a small smile, awkwardly tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“So… guys,” she phrased it like a question, voice dragging up on the end of the word. “How about actual conversation?”

“Sure.”

“No.”

The two of you having contradictory answers caused your eyes to be pulled into each other. Your face was unmoving as Steve raised his eyebrows at you, confused.

“I’d rather sit in silence,” you muttered, breaking eye contact with him as you leaned your head into your hand. Staring at him while he was focused on something else was one thing, but holding eye contact made you crumble, a slight blush crossing your features. You focused on Robin, shaking your head as she gave you a pleading look.

The blush on your face didn’t go unnoticed by Steve, a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow coming up to cross his face. It was like a switch flipped, the cockiness that surrounded the King Steve rumors coming into play.

“I think that’s a great idea, Rob,” he muttered, voice low as he stared into you. You turned your face towards the coffee table, examining the items abandon on the glass. Your eye twitched at the nickname of your best friend you so often used. You studied the nearly full bottle of vodka surrounded by shot glasses, a deck of cards, and a joint tucked into a clear baggie.

Robin had been optimistic at the night having a positive turn of events.

“I’ll start,” Steve said, turning his entire body so he was facing you. Your bodies mirrored each other, Robin sitting awkwardly in the middle as her eyes flitted between the two of you. “So, Yn… How come I’ve been friends with Robin this long, and have never had the honor of meeting you?”

“Wish I could say the same,” you rolled your eyes, leaning your head on your hand. Your heart was beating heavy behind your chest as you watched this man practically morph into a completely different person.

“Yn…” Robin’s hand came to rest on your knee, squeezing as her voice was a warning to you. Be on your best behavior, you could hear her thoughts.

“Hmm,” he answered, you felt his eyes brushing over your figure. You felt insecure in that moment, focusing on the bottle of vodka as you debated the quickest way to black out in that moment. “I’m just saying, Yn. I’ve heard about you for so long, yet I think this is the first time I’ve even seen you.”

You cut your eyes suddenly to him, your own gaze darkening as his words echoed through the room. You weren’t going to crumble (this time), your mind intent on showing him you weren’t intimidated by him.

At the eye contact, his smirk widened even further. There was a glint of something in his eye, similar to the stories you had heard of the Harrington Charm, or so it was called.

“Funny enough, I’ve heard a lot about you too, Steve,” you replied, huffing as his name left your mouth. “This town can’t stop talking about you. King Steve and how you’re so irresistible.”

The last word in your mouth dripped with venom, squinting your eyes at the suggestive look on his face.

Silence held the next few moments, Robin looking at the ceiling as she muttered words under her breath. It sounded something like a prayer.

“Would you like to find out, Yn?” His voice was low as his eyes bored into you, teeth dragging across his bottom lip as your name escaped his lips. Hair hung into his eyes, head tilted down slightly as he leaned forward an inch. Your breath hitched at the small movement, words at a loss.

Robin shot up from the couch suddenly, arms thrown into the air as she turned around to face the two of you. She shook her shoulders, grimacing at the interaction. “Okay!”

Steve slowly dragged his eyes away from you, smirk disappearing as he glanced up at the brunette. Just like that, King Steve was gone. He settled back into the arm of the couch as his eyebrows were raised to his hairline, lips parted as he stared at your best friend.

“Enough of whatever that was,” Robin tried to blink away the memory, hands resting at her hips. She turned to look at the coffee table behind her, leaning over to grab the abandoned bottle of vodka and the deck of cards. Grimace still present amongst her features, she held them up. “Drinking game, anyone?”

The night continued among the three of you, shots being poured as matching face cards were being thrown onto the table. You were pretty drunk at this point, vision blurring as you leaned into your friend. She was resting her head on top of yours, laughing at something Steve was doing.

He had stuck a card to his forehead, trying to guess which one it was. His eyes were glazed over, slightly hooded with intoxication as him and Robin bickered back and forth about the number of cards there was in deck.

He was losing the debate, set on why Robin was wrong. You had a dopey smile on your face, enjoying the interaction between the two of them. You could see why they got along, energies so different, yet so similar.

“Harrington, you’re so wrong,” Robin laughed, shaking her head as she ripped the card off of his face. A small red mark was left behind, Steve groaning as he rubbed it.

She stood up from the floor, stretching her arms out as she walked away from where you all were surrounding the coffee table.

“I’m starving, Steve, come with me,” she demanded, holding a hand out to help the man up as he complained.

“What about me?” You asked, frowning as you watched him begin to trail her into the kitchen. Your question went unanswered, the two disappearing around the corner.

You sighed to yourself, laying out your body on the floor as the room began to spin in circles. Eyes closing, you held your breath, praying you sober up a little before the end of the night comes upon you.

The look on Steve’s face flashed behind the darkness of your eyes, the sound of your name in his voice echoed in your ears. You felt a small smile creeping on you, only for you to open your eyes suddenly, viscerally shaking the memory out of your mind.

What the fuck, Yn? You questioned yourself, blinking as you looked around the room. Glancing at a clock across the room, you noticed it was half past 1 a.m., way later than you realized. Fuck, my parents are going to kill me.

You glanced towards the direction of the kitchen, head tilting back against the carpet. Robin and Steve’s voices were low, but urgent, causing you to sit up on your elbows.

You strained your ears, trying to focus in on her words.

“-don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve!”

“Whaaat?”

Their voices were heavy with the liquor, almost sounding drowsy.

“Stop trying to fuck my friends, Steve. I’m serious.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, breath getting caught in your chest as you heard Steve laugh loudly at her words.

“Shhh!” You heard a thud, presumably the sound of her hand hitting him, based on the “Ow! What the hell!” that followed.

“Steve…”

Silence followed the conversation, your ears straining to see if the conversation continued, only for you to be met with the sound of footsteps coming your way. You panicked, moving to lay back down on the carpet. You crossed your hands over your chest, breathing fast as you tried to pretend like you hadn’t eavesdropped that entire thing.

Glancing up, you saw Steve swaying over you, hand on his hips as he smiled down at you. The overhead light shone over him, creating a halo around his perfectly styled hair.

You allowed yourself to stare for only a second before rolling your eyes.

“You’re blocking my light, Harrington,” you muttered, turning your head in the opposite direction.

He chuckled, moving so he sat next to you. He sat with his legs pulled close to him, being held together with his arms as they were clasped together.

“Sorry, didn’t realize you were getting a tan,” he was sarcastic in his words, light look on his face. He stared down at you, eyes grazing over your stretched out limbs.

“Why don’t you like me, Yn?” He asked, teeth pulling at the skin on his lip.

You closed your eyes, sighing as he started up that shit again. Did you not just have that conversation earlier that night?

“I quite like you,” his voice was a whisper now, hand coming out to dance at the edge of your own sweater. You pulled your arm away from him, tucking your elbow into your side. “You’re good for Robin.”

Questioning where Robin was, you glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Coming out was muffled sounds of her moving around the refrigerator, glasses clinging into one another. She was muttering to herself, something about pickles dipped in Greek yogurt.

“I think you’d be good for me, too.” The low tone of his voice had you squeezing your legs together, watching as his eyes briefly looked down at the movement. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling the strands back into place.

“Leave me alone, Steve.” You tried to even your voice out as much as possible.

“I know you’re curious,” Steve cocked his head to the side, eyes trailing over your face. “About King Steve and his reign.”

You hacked a laugh, surprised at the boldness he had in this moment. The man’s ego was huge, even if he had the looks to back it.

“His reign? Is that what you want to call it?” Before you knew it, a small smirk of your own toyed at your lips.

“Oh, we can call it whatever you want,” the smile dropped from his lips as that darkened look took over his eyes once more. The amber glow of his irises turned nearly black, eyes narrowing as he stared into yours.

“The only thing I’m curious about,” you felt his fingers brush your clothes ribcage, ignoring the sensation, “is how there’s not a single bad thing to be said about this King Steve.”

His eyes slowly dragged over you, starting at your eyes to your lips to your chest and lingering at the spot between your thighs before returning to meet your gaze. He sucked in his bottom lip, gaze glancing towards the kitchen door as Robin began to make her way out, balancing about seven things between her arms.

She giggled, paying attention to the shaking of the items as she tried to not spill anything.

Steve’s voice dropped to a low whisper, barely audible, “Don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?”

You gulped, eyes on him as he switched it off, getting up to help Robin as she struggled with the items. You are so fucked.

Ever since that night between the three of you, you had been tagging along with Robin and her newfound friend more. The facade had been dropped, Steve no longer being flirtatious with you as you tried your hardest to ignore him.

He began to treat you the same as Robin, making stupid jokes towards you and letting his nerdy side come out during the interactions. Your hard exterior slightly crumbled away, defenses lowering as you realized that Robin may have been right about him. They weren’t completely gone, just lowered just enough to get to know him.

He wasn’t as much as an asshole as you imagined, he spent most of nights with a bunch of kids anyways. It was surprising, you had muttered some joke about the kids being “a little too young for you, Harrington?” only to earn his disapproval back. It was the most serious he had been since you met him, eyes dropping to the floor as he shook his head. You felt bad, seeing how defensive he had been over these kids he had practically adopted.

After that interaction, you dropped the King Steve stuff, seeing that your perception of him had been completely wrong. You would love to say that a beautiful friendship was blossoming between the two of you, but it was the opposite of that. You still hated him.

Every time you looked at him, you were reminded of his past, his stupid friend group that he used to hang with. Tommy had made the past few years of your life a living hell, torments of your parents separation and alleged affairs circling in the depths of your mind.

You watched him as he sat on the back porch of his house, cigarette hanging between his fingers as he reclined in the lawn chair over looking the pool. Robin sat in the chair next to him, turning the dial of the stereo as she tried to find a station with “goddamn decent music.”

The night sky hung heavy over you, your feet dipped into the pool as you watched the two from your perch on the side of the pool.

Smoke circled around him, lacing in and out of his hair as he looked in the night sky. A single light from the sliding glass door illuminated the back yard. His hair was annoying, perfectly framing his features as he blinked into the stars of the night.

As you took in the view of him and the rest of his backyard, rolling your eyes at the wealth that stood around you. Typical Harrington and his perfect home.

“Okay, fuck this,” Robin sighed, huffing as she shut off the stereo. She rose from the lawn chair, slipping on her shoes that lay beside it. “I’m over this, I’m going to bed.”

She began walking towards the sliding door, ruffling Steve’s hair as she past him. You protested, kicking your foot in the water.

“You’re going home?” You asked, watching as she paused to speak to you.

“Gonna sleep in Steve’s parents room, they’re not home,” she shrugged, yawning as she stretched her arms over her head.

“Never home,” Steve muttered with a shake of his head, thinking it was under his breath as he took a drag of his cigarette. You glanced at him, brow crinkling slightly at his comment.

“Just come up whenever you’re tired, Yn.” Robin turned, muttering a “g’night” as she made her way into the house, sliding the door behind her.

You looked down at your feet, watching the way the water circled at your ankles. Sounds of water swirling and crickets chirping in the stickiness of the night were filling your senses. You almost forgot Harrington was there, the sound of his cigarette burning out in the water interrupting your thoughts.

You looked at him from where he flicked it in the water. He stared at the way the burned bud floated in the water, moving in small circles as it soaked up the water around it. He seemed to be in a trance, eyes unfocused as they squinted around his thoughts.

You turned your eyes towards your feet again, ignoring him. You didn’t care. He was still that same Steve you despised so much.

“You want to sit here?” Steve asked, pulling you from thoughts once more. “Waters gotta be cold.”

“Absolutely not.” You were stubborn, squaring in your shoulders as your defenses picked up. You heard him huff, breath long as he exhaled.

“Why the fuck are you so rude?” He snapped, your head quickly swiveling to look at him. He shook his head as his hand rested at his bent knee, he continued to stare into the water. The half empty cigarette box was being turned over and over in his grasp.

“Easy for you to say, Harrington,” you shot back, anger seething through you as you got out of the pool. Water dripped around your feet as you grabbed your shoes next to you. You began to storm past him, muttering curses at him. “Good fucking night, asshole.”

You stopped at his chair, glaring down at him as he looked at you, eyes shifting up in your direction as his head stayed centered. Warmth flashed over you as you imagined he looked just like The Fallen Angel in this moment, eyes rimmed red as his gaze cut into you.

You ignored the thought, leaning over him as you seethed, “I don’t know what you think this is, Harrington, but we are not friends. We'll never be friends. You made my life a living hell, and I will resent you for that for the rest of my life. These rumors painting you in good light makes me loath you even more.”

Steve scoffed at your words, getting up so he stood in front of you. You bit your tongue as he towered over you, breath heavy as he searched your face, your harsh words lingering in the air.

“I didn’t do anything to you,” he whispered, voice low as your heart thundered. You swore he could hear it as he glanced down your body. "I've been nothing but nice to you."

“Liar.” You shook your head, taking a step back as he took one in your direction.

“Okay,” he nodded his head, lips forming a frown. His hand reached up to pull at his hair, rolling his eyes as they closed with a sigh. He opened them, hand moving to rest at his hip. “Tell me then, what did I do that was so bad for you, Yn.”

“You know.”

He shook his head, not taking that answer. He remained silence.

“You know,” your voice cracked, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

He shook his head again, tilting his head as he examined you. His own eyes blinked rapidly, jumping back and forth between the two of yours.

You sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. All of the anger dissipated, sorrow filling your chest instead.

“You let Tommy torment me, you let him say what he did about me and all of his stupid friends,” your voice was fragile, volume moving up and down as your words came out. “You might not have said anything, but that’s the worst part, Steve. You were a bystander during the worst times of my life, and you didn’t. Do. Anything.”

Your finger punched at his chest with every word, emphasizing your point. Steve looked down at the assault of the digit, grabbing it between his fingers at the last word.

His touch burned your skin, a feeling that felt so wrong, but so right at the same time.

“You’re absolutely right,” Steve agreed with you, fingers holding your hand tightly. “I was—I was terrible. I was a jerk, a coward, if you will.”

Your eyes looked up into his at his words, hearing him out.

“I’m not friends with him anymore. I met Nancy all that time ago, and things changed for me,” he continued, thumb rubbing circles over the skin. Your heartbeat quickened, glancing down at his movement. “I met Robin, and things only got better. That perception you have of me is so different. So, so different than me now.”

He left go of your hand, watching as it dropped to your side. Steve was only inches away from you, the left over tobacco scent mixing with the detergent of his clothes.

A single tear streamed down your face, your hand shooting up to wipe it away. His gaze softened, shaking his head at you.

“It appears King Steve has dropped his crown,” he muttered, earning a small laugh out of you. You dropped your head, stepping back as a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

Steve’s laugh followed your own, chuckling low as yours picked up. The two of you stood there laughing at each other, an ache in your side forming as you realized the ridiculous situation you were in.

You both quieted down, staring at each other as the moonlight filled the sky above you. The buzzing of the porch light filled the air.

Steve’s eyes were huge in this lighting, his long lashes curled up towards his brows. The small pout of his lips were wet from his tongue darting out, licking at the skin. Moles dotted his skin, cheeks full as joy crossed his features.

You could see him in this light, for who he truly was. That asshole image may have lingered in the back of your mind, but you could see that he was truthful in his speech.

“I may miss him, you know,” you said, looking at your feet as the words came out. “King Steve.”

You glanced up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. His eyes were dark again, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Oh?” You couldn’t pull the emotion off of his face, a mask placed over it.

You nodded, continuing, “I never got to know him the way most people did.”

Smirking at your words, you turned towards the house and walked up towards the sliding glass door. You didn’t bother looking back at him, opening up the glass as you stepped through muttering a goodnight as you entered the house.

It was dark in there, the only light illuminating was the one hanging over the staircase. The image of the look on Steve’s face burned in your mind, how his dark eyes reflected the moonlight. As you trekked up the stairs on your way to meet Robin, you couldn’t help but think that you took things too far at the end. You’ve hated him all this time, why all of a sudden did you want to mess with his head about the idea of King Steve ?

Reaching the end of the hall, your hand reached for the doorknob, stopping in its place as you heard footsteps running up the stairs, fast in their pace.

Your brow furrowed, turning towards that direction as you watch Steve ascend the stairs, turning the corner to the hall in your direction. He was slightly out of breath, colored in the cheeks.

“You want to?” He blurted out, fast paced with his words. You were confused.

“Huh?”

He was crossing the distance to you, eyes determined on yours. Your hand was still placed on the doorknob, grip loose.

“Harrington, what are you talking ab-”

Your words were cut off as Steve closed the distance, crashing his mouth into yours. His hands came up to rest on the sides of your face as your eyes shot open in surprise at the intrusion. Your hand left the doorknob, resting at his chest to push him away.

“What the hell was that,” you exclaimed, finger digging in his chest. Smiling at you, his hands still present on your cheeks as he tugged at his bottom lip.

He made a shushing motion with his lips, stepping closer to place his mouth on yours again. You didn’t protest, fluttering your eyes shut as his mouth began to move into yours, molding into the perfect shape.

His mouth was soft, tongue darting out to lick between your lips, an urgency as you were pulled into him. One of his hands left your face, finding your waist to press his torso into yours. Huffing, the firmness of his body against yours left you breathless as you leaned up into the kiss.

He pulled away, placing two quick pecks to yours before placing a step back. The absence of his hands on your body left a chill throughout your spine. Eyes glazed over, you blinked at him, tongue running over the feeling of him on your lips.

Steve was smug, hands on his hips as he smiled at you. Your mouth flapped open and close, not finding the words to say to him in that moment. You should be repulsed at him, that was your first thought, but you couldn’t be bothered.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Your fingers came to brush at your mouth, looking anywhere but him. It was the first time you had been shy around him. You were starting to understand the Harrington Effect.

“You don’t need to,” he rushed, crossing the distance to you one last time to crash his mouth into yours.

He pulled you into him simultaneously pushing you into the wall next to the doors of his parents room. Your body hit it with a full yet loud thud, not caring about waking Robin in the moment.

Your mouth moved in sync with Steve’s, hands coming up to mess up its perfect style and leg curling up to rest at his upper thigh. He moaned into your mouth as his hands gripped your ass, pulling your hips into his.

This is wrong, you found yourself thinking as Steve pulled away to mouth at your neck. He sucked bruises into the delicate skin, fingers digging into your flesh. Your hands roamed free, wildly pulling at his belt his teeth grazed your earlobe.

His bulge ground into the fabric of your jean shorts, leaving you breathless as you fumbled with his buckle.

“S-Steve,” you panted into his hair, arching into his grasp.

You felt the smug fuck smile at your neck, breath sending a chill down your spine. “So needy, baby.”

The nickname had you mewling, panting even further as once of his hands came to help with you the buckle. He freed himself, leather straps hanging at his waist as he unbutton the jeans, pulling the zipper down.

Your hand reached inside, grabbing his heavy cock. You both gasped at the feeling, Steve throwing his head back at the sensation of you tugging at him under his pants. The sounds echoing through the air were filthy—Steve groaning, the wet slickness of your hand on his cock, your dirty words of affirmation flowing out of your mouth.

His hand came to rub at you through your shorts, the thick material making you see stars. Your own head hit the wall, the thud louder than before.

“Shhh baby,” he muttered, pushing them to the side as his fingers brushed over your clothed opening. He smirked at you, low groan escaping his mouth as you were already dripping wet. You huffed, squeezing at the base of his cock in retaliation, feeling the way his hips jutted out.

“C-can’t wake Robin,” he gasped, hips moving rhythmically in sync with your strokes. His head was dripping wet, the inside fabric of his underwear soaking it up.

You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance, the thick jean and thin material of your underwear pushed to the side. They brushed your folds, collecting slick as he applied pressure to the sensitive bud.

“Need you, Steve, fuck,” your face was twisted in pleasure, core throbbing as he continued to tease you. The look on his face let you know he was falling apart at your touch too, brow furrowed as his bottom lip was sucked into his mouth.

He removed himself from you, tucking the exposed part back into his pants. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you down the hall, leading to an open door. He pushed you inside, shutting it behind him as he pushed you down on the bed.

You bounced, half smiling as you rid yourself of your shirt, throwing it across the room. The jeans shorts followed, leaving you exposed in your bra and panties.

Steve stood at the end of the bed, gaze roaming over your figure as that familiar dark look took over his features.

“The things you’re doing to me,” he breathed, crossing his arms at his waist as he pulled his shirt over his head. The sight of his chest, littered with hair at the top, made a rush of heat go straight to your core.

Your eyes followed his hands, watching as they pulled down his jeans, still unbuttoned from the hallway. His boner pushed at the front of his boxers, wet patch present as the material tented.

His eyes followed your eyeline, smirking at you as he saw your legs subconsciously opening wider. Your hand came down to rub between your legs, the panties becoming stickier with each passing moment.

“You want me to show you, baby?” His voice was taunting, leaning over the bed to make his slow crawl over your body. You nodded, eyes big with desire as you felt his heat over you. “Say it.”

“I-I want you t-to show me, Steve,” you moaned, free hand reaching up to grab at his neck. He stopped its movement, hand loose at the wrist as he sucked his teeth.

"Ah ah ah, say it again." His low voice had you falling apart, wetness pooling between your thighs.

"I want you to show me, Steve." Clearer this time, you arched into him spreading your legs so he lay between. He smirked and let go, leaning down to briefly kiss your lips before making his way down your neck.

The urgency you felt in your body contradicted his slow, languid movements. You felt the admiration in his movements, teeth nipping at your skin lightly, his tongue soothing over the marks. He made his way down, kissing over what seemed like every inch of you.

As he spread your legs, he maintained eye contact with you, hair falling into his eyes. His fingers rested at the waistband of your panties, mouth pressing light kisses over your clit. The fabric was thin enough to feel the heat of your breath, and it had you mewling.

"You're so beautiful, Yn," he whispered as he pulled the piece of fabric off of you. Your hand reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes, leaning up on your elbows so you could get sight of him.

His tongue darted out, licking at your clit as you exhaled deeply. Your hips jutted out, trying to feel the full heat of his mouth as his tongue gave you tiny licks, teasing you. Steve's smirk grew, arm resting at your waist to hold you down.

"'M just getting started, my love."

He began to suck at you, tongue dipping in and out of your folds as one of his fingers found your entrance, pushing in. You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, moaning at the taste of you.

It was heaven watching him. Seeing the way his face was pushed into you, fingers moving in and out of you with a fever. They curled inside of you, toying at the bundle of nerves deep in your walls. Clenching around him, your hips began to stutter, the weight of his arm adding a pressure that made your head feel light.

Bliss approached you, slowly then all at once. You swore you blacked out for a moment, vision going white as he licked you through the pleasure. Your breath was fast, chest heaving as that familiar over stimulation worked its way through your thighs.

Steve pulled away, satisfied with your unraveling. He licked the taste of you off of his lips, rising to his knees as he pulled his boxers down. His cock sprung free, dark red at the head as it dripped in desperation.

His hand came to stroke himself, squeezing small drops of precum out of the head.

"Steve," you groaned, hand reaching to grab at him. His hips angled towards your reach, he groaned as you made contact. You gave him short strokes, focusing your attention at the head.

"You wanna give me a little taste, sweetheart?" His sweet words of affirmation had you soaked with anticipation once again, a nod coming in reply. You repositioned yourself, lying on your stomach, propped up on your elbows as you licked at his head.

A low groan escaped him, hand coming to rest at the back of your head. You took him in your mouth, lips stretching over his girth as you opened up for him.

His hand pushed on your head, forcing down some of the length that you felt shy in taking. You sucked at him, looking up at him falling apart with small thrusts of his hips into your mouth. His head was angled to the side, eyes closed as you saw them move behind his lids. His mouth was open, free hand gripping at the roots of his hair.

He looked beautiful in this light, chest glistening as a sheen of sweat covered him. His hand guided your mouth, feeling the suction of your lips over his shaft. The way his hips stuttered into you had you choking, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"M not gonna last, baby," he muttered, removing himself as you looked up at him. Steve glanced down at himself, seeing the way his cock shone with the glistening of your spit.

His eyes rolled, teeth digging into his bottom lip at the sight. You understood the feeling, the both of you being so turned on, it fucking hurt.

"Turn around for me." Rising to your hands and knees, you positioned yourself, arching your back. Blind to his movements, you heard him shuffle behind you, warm hands gripping at your waist that sent a shock to your spine.

His cock nudged at your entrance, a burn coming as he stretched you open. A high moan escaped your lips, hips running from the intrusion. His hands pulled you right back, cock pushing in even further.

"Shh, baby," he whispered, running his hand up your spine to soothe you. "It'll be okay."

You nodded, looking back over your shoulder at him admiring the way you stretched over him. As he pushed in further, the stretch burned even more. The pain was soothed away by the rubbing of his hands and the words of encouragement he gave you.

"'S okay," he muttered, pushing to the hilt. "I'm right here, baby."

Your knuckles were shaking as you gripped the sheets below you. Your eyes fluttered closed, a sigh escaping your lips.

"All right here, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you." His hips reared back before pressing in again, your back arching as pleasure flowed through your body.

"Steve, fuck," you moaned his name, feeling the way he pushed into you over and over, movements slow. He grabbed onto your hips, fucking into you as the sounds of slapping skin echoed through the room.

"You're taking it so good, my love."

His words had you gasping, hips shooting back to meet his movements half way. Seeing the effort you gave him back, his thrusts became faster, fucking into you with a passion.

Steve's words continued praising you, I love to see you falling apart and feels good, baby? and take it, you love my dick so much. You were panting his name, the only word you could focus on.

That pleasure arched up your spine once more, legs shaking with the promise of release. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, falling to the bed as Steve followed you to it. His large stature hung over your body, fucking you through your high.

You couldn't help, but press your face into the mattress, pleasure rippling through you as his movements quickened. You felt him approaching his own high as his words became short, breath raising a pitch.

"F-fuck, Yn," his voice was even an octave higher, face pressing in between your shoulder blades. His thrusts were irregular, slamming into you as the entire bed rocked. "Gon-gonna cum, baby, f-fuck, you did so well."

He released into you, pressing deep as you felt him fill you up. The warmness of his cum made you moan again, the thick liquid threatening to spill out the sides of his cock deep within you.

"Such a good job," he whispered to you before pulling out, collapsing next to you. He lay on his back, hand reaching out to rest at the small of your back.

You turned your head towards him, blinking slow as you took in the mess of the man. His hair was sticking to his face, cheeks red, and wetness around his mouth. He stared back at you, smirk ever present.

"I still hate you, Harrington," you whispered to him, noticing the way your legs felt numb. Sensing the irony in your words, you felt him leak out of you. A grimace crossed your face.

He laughed out loud, winking at you. He leaned to press a kiss to your nose, watching the way it crinkled under his touch.

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart."

You hid your smile in the sheets, rolling your eyes shut. Happiness warmed your body, the lingering effects of your orgasm. A gnawing feeling came to your heart, chest pounding for a different reason. You had fallen for it, the typical Harrington charm. At that moment, you tried not to tell yourself that things may be different, thinking of his words earlier.

He was different than before, however, the thoughts of King Steve still plagued your mind. This couldn't end well, Steve doesn't end well. You opened your eyes, finding him still staring at you.

"You know, I meant what I said, right?" He asked you, seemingly reading your mind. You blinked at him, ready to push that hard exterior forward. "I am different than I was."

Warmth filled your chest, hope bubbling at the surface.

"I don't know if I believe you," you whispered, voice sounding small in the big room. He pressed his lips together, mouth dropping at the corner.

"Let me show you," he replied, hand coming to brush the hair behind your ear. "Let me do that at least."

Hesitation came over you, silence filling the air between you. A few moments passed as he searched your eyes for any sign of emotion. It was like you had an angel and devil on each shoulder, warning you yet jumping for joy at the same time.

You slowly nodded, a sigh escaping your lips. Steve beamed at you, eyes squinting with the smile.

"I swear, Harrington, if you do anything to fuck me over, I will murder you," you shook your head, not believing you'd give him a chance. He leaned over again, pressing another kiss to your lips this time. His smile was contagious, you fought it back.

"Is that a promise?"

masterlist. requests and inbox are open.

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

How Far Are You Willing To Go? - 1

PAIRINGS: Ex-husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

SUMMARY: Amid a quiet life post-divorce initiated by Ghost himself, his past resurfaces when his ex-wife and their young children are abducted. He's thrust into a desperate race against time to save them, facing his own demons and fighting to protect his family at any cost. Question is, how far is he willing to go?

WARNINGS: Angst, if you squint. Simon being a dummy for getting a divorce. Incorrect knowledge of allergies and asthma (please help a girlie out)

WORD COUNT: 1,096

*not proof-red*

ENJOY!

“Rylan needs to take his-,” you immediately get interrupted by his low and rough voice. “Meds, by seven in the evening after having his dinner. Yeah, I know,” you can’t help but feel that there is a trace of disdain in his voice.

Oh, how you’ve heard so many variations of that voice. From the usual rough and dark, to how soft and loving it could go. The latter was a rarity for people to hear, who meet him outside of your home’s doors. For you, however, it was common. Was being the key word. It may have not been the voice you heard 24/7, but it was a voice you heard daily.

You look at him and eye the black surgical mask he wears, “right,” you pause. “Just wanted to make sure,” you give him a purse smile, before bending down to be at eye level with your six-year-old.

“Kyla, be good and take care after your brother. Be kind in school and do your homework. Call me if you ever need some help with it, ok?” You try to wear out the imaginary creases on her little brown cardigan.

She nods her head like a mini determined soldier and says a very affirmative ‘yes Mama.” Then you move over to kneel in front of your youngest, Rylan. The four-year-old with the many existing allergies. He rubs his nose, and you tut at him, “use a tissue honey, here blow into this.” You hand him the handkerchief you always carry around for this exact reason. “Do you have your inhaler?” You ask your boy, and he nods proudly as he reaches into his pocket and shows you the small piece of plastic.

“Call me if you need Mama, ok Rylan?” You rest your hands on his shoulders, and pat down on the sweater, you look into the light brown eyes he inherited from his father and kiss his forehead. He nods at you one last time before turning around and running to your ex-husband’s family truck. Kyla kisses your cheek one last time before screaming a “buh-bye Mama” and running off to catch up with her little brother.

You stand back up and cross your arms, heart hurting a little knowing you’d be spending two weeks without your children. But what can you do? Not complain, of course.

It was part of the divorce agreement that Simon is allowed to have the children over at his place for three weeks maximum, whenever he returns from deployment. You reluctantly agreed, purely to the reason that you wouldn’t survive if you were in Simon’s place and couldn’t be able to see your kids.

You were kind in that way.

Simon loved you for it.

He loved everything about you.

He still does.

The ice around his heart thaws as he sees your eyes become bleary as you watch the kids climb into his backseat.

He hates seeing you sad.

He does everything in his power to mask the emotions he feels, and he does it well.

“Well,” you sniffle, “I-uh….I’ll leave you to it then.” You wipe your eyes nonchalantly before tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as a sort of distraction to what you feel currently.

It was always hard for you whenever Simon comes to pick up the kids.

The mother hen in you does not want to send them with him. But you know, a 100 percent sure, that they’re safer with him than with you, considering Simon’s military experience.

One of the main reason’s Simon broke things off with you.

Simon nod’s, his hands remain in the pockets of his hoodie. You lift the little paw patrol and the little Bluey child suitcases and hand it to him. “There are three weeks’ worth of clothes in there, for each of them,” you stick your hands to the side immediately after he takes them into his rough and calloused ones.

“Please call me if-,” you start, but he interrupts you again. “Anything happens. Yeah, I know,” he says with a rough tone that says, “you seriously think they’ll get hurt with me?”.

“Right…...right,” you nod as you whisper, the words more of a reassurance to you.

You try to peak at his eyes under his hoodie, but to no avail, you couldn’t see them under his black tainted sports sunglasses.

His phone starts to ring, and he pulls out of his back pocket to see the caller ID revealing the caller “Price”.

“I’ll see you in two weeks then,” you say, knowing he has to go. He nods in response before turning away and heading back to his truck, he places the suitcases in the passenger seat before double checking the buckles on the child-seat’s where Kyla and Rylan are sat in.

He does all the dad checkup’s before getting in the driver’s seat.

He see’s you through the tainted windows of his truck.

He rolls the back window down so the kids can say their final goodbye’s

“Bye Mama!” Both kids scream and the wave with smiles on their faces. You chuckle wetly as tears silently roll down your cheeks.

You know they’re safe with Simon, but you heart still hurts that they won’t be around for a while.

Simon sees the tears and his own heart breaks.

He pulls out of the driveway with a heavy heart, hating to see the love of his life in tears.

He sighs before pulling out his phone and clicking on Price’s caller ID.

The old Captain picks up after two rings.

“Ghost, we need you.”

🎀🎀🎀

TAGLIST <3: @cntloup @identity2212 @somnorvos @yyiikes @bobateasilverpearl @animarix @outoftheseine

Guess who's back? Back again?

Hey Lovelies!

I know it's been a while, but uni has started and I am trying to re-slay. Here is the much-awaited Simon series I have always wanted to start.

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged!

Also....

Lemme know what y'all think!

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[burningembers91]

Not Like You - Cho Sang-Woo x Fem Reader

Follow up piece to:

Biggest Regret What Makes You Happy

Synopsis: You arrange to meet Cho Sang-Woo in the hopes of getting closure. But all it does it make you realise how much you still love the man who broke your heart.

A/N: Oh Lordy, this storyline is breaking my heart. Also, for clarification, I did a quick Google currency converter because in my fic, Cho Sang-Woo has 500,000,000₩ (won) worth of debt. In USD it roughly amounts to $343,000, or if you're in the UK like me it's approx. £282,000. In Euros it's about €332,000 (if those amounts are wildly incorrect, I blame Google).

You were so angry with yourself. You’d spent two years hating the man who had broken your heart, who’d left you standing at the alter like a fool. And yet, the second you laid eyes on him, that hatred simply vanished. You were angry that you could automatically forgive all his sins. You were angry that your body still ached for him in a way it never had for anyone else. Your conversation with Cho Sang-Woo had been playing round and round in your head for the last week. Why couldn’t you have just lied and told him that Jason made you happy? Why couldn’t you have pretended that you were living the dream? The hurt in his face was evident, the tension between the two of you almost electric. It was incredible that despite all the heartache he’d put you through, you still pictured his hands on your body, his lips on yours.

You tried to push him to the back of your mind, tried to focus on your new relationship. Jason was nice enough, if a little distant and uncompromising, but he treated you well. He bought your flowers, and took you to nice dinners, and made you coffee in bed. So, why wasn’t he good enough for you? You already knew the answer; it was screaming at you from the very depths of your soul. Jason wasn’t good enough because he wasn’t Sang-Woo.

You were finding it difficult to be present with him, your mind drifting to your ex-fiancé almost constantly. When Jason made love to you, you pictured Sang-Woo, pictured his lips on your body, your hands tangled in his thick hair. You found yourself snapping at him for no reason, finding excuses to be alone with your thoughts. Sang-Woo was slowly taking over your life, and you needed him to stop.

You’d arranged to meet him at a coffee house, to get some closure and then finally close the door on the man you’d thought you were going to marry. You’d awoken with so much conviction, settled on the idea that you would tell Sang-Woo you never wanted to see him again, and then you could focus on your future with Jason. But as soon you saw him, your desire to forget about him faded. He was sitting at a table by the window, his glasses perched on the end of his nose as he looked at the menu. He looked so different from how he’d been when you were together; his clothes were casual, his hair tousled. He looked good, really good.

“Hi,” you said, the all too familiar ache in the pit of your stomach twisting itself in knots as you looked at him. “You came,” he smiled, standing up to pull your chair out for you. as you sat down you couldn’t help but think to yourself that Jason never pulled your chair out for you. “I thought we should talk. Get everything out in the open, maybe without yelling at each other this time.” Your harsh exchange of words at the market still haunted the both of you. You’d never raised your voices at each other before, but then again, you’d never really argued when you were together. Everything had been perfect, or so you’d thought.

You ordered your coffees, neither of you sure how to start the conversation. You wondered if he felt the tension too, whether he could sense the almost suffocating chemistry between you. you wanted to reach out and touch him, wanted to feel his hands on your waist as he lips skimmed the delicate contours of your neck. “You really hurt me,” you said quietly, “I spent two years thinking I wasn’t good enough for you.” “It was me who wasn’t good enough,” Sang-Woo insisted. He reached forward to take your hand, thinking better of it at the last second. “I didn’t want to drag you down.” “But we could have worked it out together,” you said, your fists balling as you fought the urge to raise your voice. “You gave me no explanation. Do you have any idea how humiliated I was? I wanted for three hours for you to show up at the church. I ended up being told to leave because there were other couples waiting.” Your words cut him like a knife, the idea of you standing there, watching the door he would never come through broke him all over again. He couldn’t look you, his eyes stinging with tears. He would never be able to take back what he did to you, and it destroyed him.

“How badly were you in debt?” you asked quietly. “500,000,000 won,” he whispered. The number still made him sick to his stomach, and he still couldn’t quite figure out how he’d gotten into that position. “How?” Your body had gone cold, your breath catching in your throat. How could he have hidden that from you? “Honestly,” he choked, “I don’t know. It started with credit cards, then loans. Then I invested quite a bit but the investments went to shit. I put the apartment, my car, all our furniture up as collateral, but I’d been so confident my investments would pan out. I never imagined…” He couldn’t finish his sentence; couldn’t begin to image what it would have meant for you. “I wanted to give you the best life, and all I did was tear us apart.”

You so badly wanted to be mad at him, but as you looked at Sang-Woo from across the table, all your saw was a broken man. He had bags under his eyes, he’d lost weight, the weight of the world crushing his soul. You felt sorry for him. Despite your better judgement your hand shot across the table, your fingers entwining in his. Your touch set his heart ablaze, every atom of his being burning for you. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, a single tear running down his cheek. “I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it.”

You sat there in silence for a while, your hands still linked atop the table. You were so conflicted, your head and heart waging a war inside you as you sat staring at the coffee foam in your half-empty mug. You couldn’t have helped him pay back that money, not in a million years. But at the same time, you wouldn’t have left him either. You were beginning to understand why he’d felt the need to run, why he felt he had no other option. “How much have you paid back?” you asked, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you tried to figure out how a person would even go about repaying the vast sum. “About 100,000 won,” Sang-Woo gulped. He was in the shit, so absolutely, undeniably fucked that he would quite probably never recover. “Fuck,” was all you could think to say. You couldn’t leave him to struggle like this, but how could you help him? You made a decent salary, but nothing that could pay back his debts. But you couldn’t leave him to struggle, not when you still cared for him.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there for, your hands still clasped together. you’d have to return home soon, back to the man you’d never love as much you had loved Sang-Woo. You didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to go back to your expansive apartment while Sang-Woo was forced to sleep on the floor of his mother’s living room. You wanted to hold him and tell him everything would be ok. You couldn’t hate this man, not when you’d loved him so fiercely.

“You should get back,” he finally smiled sadly. “Your boyfriend will be missing you.” Sang-Woo escorted you outside, the two of you standing on the sidewalk, neither of you wanting to be the first person to walk away. “I wish you all the best in the world,” he said, fighting tears as you looked at you. “You deserve nothing but happiness.” He turned to leave, but you couldn’t let him go. You couldn’t let him leave, not when it probably meant you’d never see him again. Panic rose through you, your chest tightening as you watch him disappear into the crowd. This morning you’d be so sure that today would be the last time you laid eyes on Cho Sang-Woo, and now the thought was making you physically sick.

You ran after him, pushing past people as you frantically searched for him. You saw him round a corner and sprinted after him, shouting his name as you ran. He stopped, turning towards the sound and saw you bolting towards him. Without a word, you threw yourself into his arms, your lips meeting his in a frenzied heat. Your hands gripped his hair, your arms wound tightly around your neck, as you held each other. The kiss was rough and desperate, tears streaming down your cheeks. You’d been an idiot to think you could ever forget Sang-Woo; he was your soulmate, the one person you were destined to be with.

“Please don’t go,” you sobbed, clinging to his shirt as he held you. “Please.” Sang-woo fought with himself, the urge to be with you overwhelming, but the knowledge that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved pressed down on his soul. “Does he make you happy?” He asked again, repeating the question he’d asked the last time you’d met. You shook your head, sniffing back tears. “Not like you did,” you whispered.

But the happiness he’d given you, it had been built on a lie. He’d hidden debt from you, had almost cost you the roof over your head. He wanted to be with you, but you didn’t deserve a liar like him. Sang-Woo had wanted to fight for you, but why fight for someone you weren’t good enough for?

“You don’t want me,” he whispered, “I’ll only bring you down.” With that, he turned and left, leaving you standing on the street. You screamed his name, tried to follow him but the crowds were too thick for you to pass through.

You didn’t want to go home, didn’t want to go back to the man who could never be the person you wanted. Two years ago, your heart had broken. Now, as you watched Sang-Woo disappear, it broke all over again.

[persephonemorningstar]

Crimson & Clover

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Additional Tags: Secret Marriage, Probably incorrect military lingo/information (don't come for me)

Crimson and Clover

You hated sitting in these exam rooms. They were cold and bland, always smelling strongly of cleaning products. Four more months of these monthly check ins and you could go back to your once a year physicals and medical exams after assignment completions. The base doc had just stepped out to check on your blood test results and you were eager for his return so you could one stop staring at the boring painting of sailboat across from you and also so you could go grab lunch at the mess hall with the team. At this rate the guys would be done eating by the time you made it though. 

Just as you were giving up hope that the doc was ever coming back for you and accepting your fate of being destined to be stuck in this dingy, boring exam room until the end of time the doc comes back into the room holding your file and looking through the papers in it.You sit up a bit straighter as he starts to speak. “Well everything looks good here. Cell count is where it should be and levels all look good. I’d say your recovery since the incident six months ago is coming along nicely. You’ve resumed all regular activities now, correct?”

You nod your head, “being smart about it and not taking on too much at once, always make sure to workout with a partner as well but back to my regular schedule and routine”

He nods, “that’s good, sounds like we are right on track and following instruction. Well I think we’ve covered everything we need to for this visit you are free to go, see you same time next month”

You cheer a silent victory in your head.Finally you can get a bite to eat. As you’re hopping off the exam table the doctor is still looking at your blood test results, “one more thing Sergeant L/N, almost forgot to mention this but just need to do so for the notes, your pregnancy test came back negative as well”

You roll your eyes because of course it did, you could of told them that, the doctor just chuckles at your obvious dismay “I know but you know the rules”

You nod your head “yeah all females on base must get a pregnancy test at every medical appointment for precautions” you say as you reach for the door knob to finally make your escape. 

The doc hums behind you “especially newlyweds like yourself”

You stumble into the door spinning back around to look at the doc, who looks startled by your reaction. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?!”

“Newlyweds tend to get a little overzealous, you’d be amazed by the number of pregnancies we actually deal with around here sometimes”. You shake your head and wave your hand at him “no the part about me being a newlywed”you demand.

He looks at you confused and then rifles through your file, looking over something before speaking again “well your file got updated about five and a half months ago with a wedding certificate and a new primary emergency contact”

What the actual fuck?! You’re screaming internally because what the actual fuck. It has to be a mistake! Five and a half months ago you were just finally being let out of the hospital wing here on base and moved into the barracks with the 141 team. People don’t just get married without knowing it and you certainly don’t. Bewildered, you look at the doc and say “Doc I think you have the wrong file or something. I didn’t get hitched, I’m not even seeing anyone right now. I don’t even have a next of kin on my file let alone a primary emergency contact”

His brow furrows and he looks down again but shakes his head, “no, it says right here Sergeant Y/N L/N and Lieutenant Simon Riley” 

He holds up the paper he is reading from which you can see is a copy of a marriage certificate and sure enough you see your name and Ghost’s name on it as well. “It looks like when this got filed your husband Lieutenant Riley got updated as your new primary emergency contact”

Son of a bitch! You don’t even speak, there are no words at least none for the doc to hear. Without a second though you snatch the paper from his hand and you can hear him protesting as you storm out of the room, down the hall and right out of the med clinic with the piece of paper in hand; heading straight in the direction of the mess hall. 

The 141 isn’t hard to miss. Sitting at the same table as usual, one that faces all doors and windows with their backs to the wall, not to mention an over six feet beast of a man with a balaclava isn’t exactly common. Price clocks you first as you storm in and approach the table. He lifts a hand in greeting that you ignore to busy glaring at Ghost who’s listening to something Soap is saying to him but you can see his eyes following you as you walk over.

Getting to the table you harshly pull out a chair, the legs squeaking loudly on the ground and sit down making sure to hold Ghost’s eye contact the entire time. All their eyes are on you now but your glare is being directed solely at Ghost while you look for any indication in his eyes that he knows what you’ve just discovered. An awkward silence falls around the table as you just sit there burning your eyes into Ghost without saying anything, letting the tension build. 

Price breaks the silence first “everything go alright at the med check, Seph?”

Not taking your eyes off of Ghost you give Price a nod “yeah still all clear for full activity, doc will send you over the med report later”

“That’s great to hea-”

You cut him off “you know they do extensive blood work at all of these appointments to check my cell count and levels, really fucking annoying but do you know what else they check for?”

You address it to the group but your eyes never leave Ghost’s. The both of you are locked in on each other, neither willing to be the first to look away. No one is answering so you off a clue “I’ll give you hint, only the females on base get checked for it”

After a moment you hear Soap say “pregnancy?”

The chuckle that leaves your mouth has no humor behind it and Ghost’s eyes narrow at you a little bit, probably concerned you are having a breakdown of some sort.

“Correct, Johnny!” you exclaim

“There I was rolling my eyes at the doctor when he told me it came back negative because yeah no shit I could have told him that, and do you know what he says to me? Do you?!”

Your voice getting a little louder, drawing the attention of the table next to you and out of your peripheral you see the other shake their head. Ghost however doesn’t move, just continues to stare at you and if you didn’t know better you would say he wasn’t even breathing. 

“He says he knows it’s annoying but that it’s especially important to make sure they are testing newlyweds. NEWLYWEDS!”

There it is a slight change in Ghost’s eyes, if you had blinked you would have missed it. Johnny starts to say something “Lass I think yo-”. Johnny is cut off by you swiping your arm across the table and flinging Ghost’s tray into the table next to you. Standing quickly you slap the marriage certificate down in front of him right where the tray had been.

He doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t move and his eyes never leave yours as you growl out “explain yourself!”

He just continues staring at you, neither of you blinking. You’re breathing heavily, adrenaline and rage racing through your veins. It’s clear you’re ready for a fight.

“Is that a marriage certificate?” you hear Soap ask and you can feel the piece of paper being slipped from under your fingers.

“Holy shit” you hear Gaz say, you can feel his weight as he leans against the table to look at the certificate with Price and Soap. 

“You can’t marry people without their knowledge” you seethe at Ghost. Ghost still says nothing but you can see the twinkle in his eye as if he is saying “oh but I can” and it infuriates you more. You hear a snicker from your right and you snap your head in Soap’s direction, slamming your hand down in front of him.

Leaning forward you get right in his face you can see Price has placed his hand on Johnny’s shoulder ready to snatch him back if you lunge. “You think this is funny? If I find out you or anyone of you had anything to do with this I will burn the barracks to the ground while you sleep”

You see Soap gulp, he knows just what level of crazy you are on and that it’s not an empty threat.Turning back to Ghost who has crossed his arms now while he watches you dish out your threat. He looks smug almost, even without you being able to see his face, you can just tell.

You let out a screech and turn kicking the chair you were sitting in before storming out of the mess hall knocking the tray of a corporal out his hands as he gawks at your display. 

Once you’ve left all eyes turn to Ghost “I think she may actually kill you Lt” Soap says staring at the door you just left through.

Ghost doesn’t respond but Soap swears he can hear a low chuckle sound come from him before he gets up and heads back through the chow line.

[artificial-transmutations]

Historically Accurate

"I'm telling you, Hollywood is going down with all the woke crap! You know what they say: Go woke go broke!"

Julian and Wallace were on their way back from the lunch room and the former was listening to the latter complaining. Julian had tried to avoid any topic like this, but, really, it was a mine field with Wallace. Just about *every* topic had the potential to turn out political.

"I don't see what's wrong with a little inclusion in pop culture." Julian said, not wanting to argue but also not wanting to leave that opinion unopposed.

"Everything! It's just plain wrong, and it's brainwash, too. I mean, it's like a mind virus, poisoning everything! There's a western coming out next week. But it's all bullshit woke agenda again. The cowboy is black and gay! Literal brainwash and historical rewrite."

Julian frowned. How could an intelligent person like Wallace be so stupid at the same time?

"Why does that even bother you? I thought you hated westerns."

"Yes, that's not the point. Fact is, it's historically inaccurate and just pushing the woke agenda."

"Actually, I think it's not even historically incorrect." Julian pondered as they entered the lab using Julian's keycard and an iris scan of both scientists.

Wallace was borderline angry now.

"What are you talking about? Everyone knows that cowboys were the whitest and the straightest people there were."

"I'm not quite sure", Julian said. "Weren't there freed slaves and so on? And I would guess if you were underway with another guy for prolonged periods of time, not everything staid straight, too."

"Bullshit! Everyone knows cowboys weren't fags, and they were white."

Wallace seemed agitated now, and his usual stiff demeanor became even more pronounced.

Wallace was in his mid-forties, but the way he was talking, he seemed way older to Julian.

Julian on the other hand was awfully young for the position he had. Being 25, he still didn't look like he had finished college, even though he had his doctorate already.

It was really a bit sad, he thought. Two of the brightest minds and they were bickering over basic, meaningless distinctions like ethnicity or sexual orientation.

"We could just ask the computer." he proposed, but Wallace frowned.

"We are not supposed to use the equipment for private research." he said.

'The computer' was part of the highly secretive project they worked on. When finished, it was supposed to be a time machine, simple as that. The actual time travel device didn't work properly yet, but a part of it, a chronoton boosted quantum computer that was able to access history itself to answer questions about the part, was already functioning quite well.

"But we are supposed to test it from time to time. Are you afraid of the answer it might give?"

"Of course not." Wallace grumbled. "Fine. Computer! Is there any historical evidence of gay black cowboys?"

The voice activated system acknowledged the request with a beep. While waiting for the answer, Julian checked the parameters of the system and found them in near-perfect condition.

Finally, the system answered, with the neutral male voice it was programmed with.

"A significant portion of cowboys consisted of people with African heritage, especially after the freeing of slaves after the civil war. Homosexual acts and attraction were common among cowboys, especially during the trail drives. Demonstrating..."

"Hrmpf." Wallace said, clearly not happy.

Julian, who was still checking the readings, scratched his head.

"Did you remember to disconnect the capsule before making the query? It seems to be drawing power."

"Ah, crap. That's just because of all the bullshit talk. Computer, stop!"

"Unable to comply. Demonstrating... Target: Montana Frontier Area, June 1865..."

The white walls of the chamber started to glow in an ever brighter white that was beginning to hurt the eyes.

"Crap. Julian, cut the power!" Wallace said, now with a clear notion of fear in his voice. The younger scientist didn't answer but tried to do as he was told - but did not succeed in time.

Suddenly, with a flash, their surroundings changed and the two of them found themselves in the middle of a rugged mountain range, on the border of a pine forest. It was late afternoon and the scientists found themselves in a just set-up camp. Two horses were standing nearby, and a small herd of cows was grazing at a meadow.

Wallace sighed and shook his head angrily. "Just great. Look at the mess you just put us in. Now we have to wait until we're rescued. And, apparently, we have to meet some black homo cowboys."

Julian looked around but couldn't see anyone around.

"I would have also guessed so, but there doesn't seem to be anyone there."

His heart sank as he had a terrible suspicion. He had been experimenting lately with a normalization circuit that would embed the time travelers into history instead of superimposing them onto it. That was - according to his theories - a rather elegant way to resolve the repelling effect the historical structure had, but it wasn't finished by any means. It had never been tested and even theoretically, it wouldn't be able to achieve a partial embedding, only a full one at best. And the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that it had still been connected to the system.

As Julian thought about how to break it to Wallace, he noticed something strange about the other scientist. It could be a trick of the light, but he looked way more tanned than before.

"Uhm... It might actually be somewhat worse than that. I think my normalization circuit was still active when you activated the machine."

"What? What does that mean?" Wallace looked at him, furiously now.

"Well, I would guess..." Julian struggled and gave up. "Look at your hands, I think it's pretty self-explanatory."

Wallace looked down at his darkening hands and paled. Even now, he still had a considerably darker skin tone than before, darkening with every passing second.

"Shit." he said. "That's what you get for fucking around with a half-finished experiment."

Julian didn't even dare to mention his suspicion. If his normalization circuit was really active, that would make Wallace an actual, black cowboy, and not just him. Julian was also a time traveler, so he, too, would be affected.

Meanwhile, the changes in Wallace seemed to have proceeded. His facial structure looked like it was in motion before finally settling on a generally broader, manlier shape: The jawline became more pronounced, and his cheekbones raised.

"Is there... anything going on with me as well?" Julian asked.

Wallace looked over at him.

"Yeah, your hair color is changing, and I think your eye color. Blonde and blue-eyed, how cliché. But most importantly, you're not becoming fucking a fucking Black man."

Wallace didn't say Black man.

For some reason, this didn't bother Julian half as much as it should have. He felt rather at ease, and the untamed wilderness around him awakened a sense of adventure inside of him that he didn't know was in him.

Meanwhile Wallace was also feeling a change within. A surge of confidence emerged from within him that was entirely alien to the deeply insecure man at first, but quickly became more and more part of his personality. It was like his core was solidifying into a confident and assertive nature, a boldness and quiet he secretly always wished he had. At the same time, his body structure changed considerably.

Where before, Wallace had been a physically unimpressive mid-forties man, it now seemed like the years melted off of him, and for every year that he lost, he gained three pounds of muscle mass and beef. His shoulders widened, his height increased, and his frame expanded in order to accommodate the new body mass.

"It's not that bad, ain't it?" While Julian's body had not changed much besides the hair and eye color, his voice sounded entirely different now. It had a southern lilt to it, but it was charismatic and charming. It was the kind of voice you could listen to for hours without end, perfect for reading an audiobook - or telling campfire stories.

"Well now, I ain't too sure 'bout that." Wallace's voice had changed even more considerably when he answered. He had gained a thick southern accent, and his voice had dropped to a low and smooth voice that sounded commanding even if he didn't intend to.

"Ha, look at that, your skin's startin' to change now, too!"

And really, Julian's skin had started to adapt as well, but it was quickly becoming apparent that it went a different route than Wallace's. Instead of darkening to the almost black tone that he was sporting, Julian's skin became rougher and got a sun-kissed tan instead. His facial features sharpened, as his cheekbones looked chiseled all of a sudden and a rugged beard texture was adorning his chin. Julian seemed to notice it, too, since he started touching his new face immediately.

"Cool! Always wondered what I'd look like sportin' a beard." he said, apparently not too unhappy with the changes.

There was no denying Julian looked good, which made Wallace feel a touch of jealousy. In his opinion, it wasn't fair that he was the only one having to deal with the black skin. That feeling quickly faded, though, as his changes continued. His hair became very short, curly and dark. At the same time, a short beard formed on his chin and upper lip, giving him an even manlier appeal. At the same time, chest hair sprouted, sparsely of course, as it was normal for a man of his heritage. A strange feeling overcame Wallace. He wasn't necessarily *proud* to be Black now, but he also didn't mind it anymore. He was proud of a lot of secondary assets, though, like his bulging muscles or his handsome face. As his eyes became a dark brown, he had to smirk as he sat down by the fire, readjusting himself in the process. And, of course, his big cock, which might also have been positively influenced by his new ancestry.

Wallace watched as Julian turned around and tended to the horses. His body was now, finally, also changing. It didn't become nearly as bulky as his own, but instead lean and agile, with narrow hips and a well-distributed surprising strength, as Wallace knew. While Julian was busy with the horses, Wallace had a good view of his ass. It filled out the jeans just so well, and Vallace only noticed now that the other man's attire had changed. He was clad in a pair of blue jeans, a vest and, of course a Stetson now, and Vance always thought that this outfit accentuated the best parts of his partner quite well. He preferred black leather, himself, since the material was sturdier and felt better on the skin.

Vince felt his cock hardening in his leather pants and readjusted himself again while also leaning back and spreading his legs to make more room for the erection. He wasn't afraid of anyone seeing his rude behavior. The only other man within a wide range was Jesse, the owner of that juicy ass. And he was allowed to see... well, everything.

Vince waited patiently until Jesse returned to the campfire, with a big smile on his face.

"How them horses holdin' up, partner?" Vince asked.

"They're good. Just a tad worn out from today's ride." Jesse answered.

"Well, there's somethin' else needs tendin' to, if you're free to lend a hand. Or an ass." Vince grinned and made his cock throb in the confines of his tight leather pants.

Jesse grinned at the display of masculinity and massaged his own cock.

"Hell yes!"

As Jesse moved over in his usual graceful movements, Vince leaned back. There really wasn't anything better than being a big, black cowboy. Especially not with a partner like Jesse, who was always happy to make the nights in the wilderness a little less lonely.

Certainly not poor and lonesome! Also check out this awesome writer!

There are a few more versions of Jesse and Vince, over at my tip jar.

[kinokkotsu]

Satisfied — Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

々 Today’s Music Recommendation: Dark Red By Steve Lacy

A/N: im waiting for Mappa to finally give the jjk fan service to Yuta girlies.

You have accepted the fact that Yuta has nothing for you.

He is such a sweet and innocent soul with a dedicated heart. You should accept the fact that he truly wants to focus on what he is doing right now or otherwise you’d be the bad person.

Your brain tells you — you’re selfish because your heart just wouldn’t stop the way you look at him so dearly nor stop the way you touch him so tenderly despite the fact that he is only second to Gojo Satoru. Besides he has vowed how his heart only belongs to Rika.

Somewhere along that sentence has shuttered your heart once.

You and him were close, extremely. Extremely to the point where you both easily sleep in each other’s room without breaking a guilt, no nasty or sexual behavior from that. Just as close friends.

Yuta only has you if Maki, Toge or Panda were away for a mission. You are always there to embrace his coldness and bare with it everytime he needs you. You study as a Jujutsu Medical Student to treat physical wounds of your patients but Yuta seems to believe you also have the ability to plaster his scars within his sensitive heart.

You enjoy the thing you have with him. Love doesn’t have to be this and that. You are satisfied with whatever you are sacrificing for him. You hope this would last forever but you know life doesn’t always go as planned.

Higher ranks have decided to send him overseas, and you don’t like where this has headed.

“that meeting was draining for sakes..,” Sighs Yuta who plots down on the bed, next to your warm body, after he has stood his sword against the wall.

Yuta groans in exhaustion while he stretches his legs like a child. He always acts like a kid every time he is back from those old people, though it would be lying if you admit you hate him whining over tiny problems.

“You shouldn’t have gone there if you already figured what it is going to be about,” you state, feeling Yuta lean into the crook of your neck while embracing your body.

He nods in your neck before sighing and holding you closer. “I just thought I needed to,” he says.

Silence fills up the room as you both kept quiet for a long time. No one is really in the mood to talk apparently, with all these missions and all these patients dragging the two of you down. The physical touch is the only way to express the burden you both are having.

The crickets in the background rhyme each seconds, entertaining the night as it goes on. The hoots of the owls alarmed how the night has been late for the humans to not fall asleep but neither of you couldn’t seem to close your eyes from exhaustion.

“..i must have to wait such a long time for you to come back,” you start the conversation, pushing your head back as you stare at the ceiling blankly.

He nods, again. Not wanting to spit a word nor waste his leftover energy comforting you.

Yuta has never felt so guilty doing this with you. Lately he could feel himself getting nervous and worried whenever you come to meet him even especially if you are busy. In fact he has been craving your touch than he ever had in the past, knowing he must leave you soon.

Rika might be his first love but he is convinced he has fallen in love once again. This time with you.

The way you touch him so tenderly as if he was as fragile as glass, The way you look at him so dearly that he could melt right in that place, everything you behave around him get him smiling like an immature child.

He knows how he is hurting you like this, how it must have been draining you to accept the fact that he feels nothing towards you when in reality it is all incorrect.

That is when Yuta back his face away from your neck and look at you, staring as your eyelids seem like they are about to shut down anytime soon. He stares as he continues detecting every inch of your face that is illuminated by the moonlight.

A countdown goes on his mind for a good while till your eyes completely close.

“take care..of yourself, silly” he whispers while he brushed the dark circles under your eyes. You have fallen asleep already and he knows it. You are a heavy sleeper, and that is one fact about you that he thinks is cute.

Jujutsu Sorcerers are not ones to be fortunate when falling in love. He knows if he did, one of their lives could end tragically due to how cruel the world can be. Keeping the problem folded is better than unfolding the problem before it leaves you miserable for life. He knows you are in love with him and he shamelessly admits he is a coward for letting himself avoid these problems.

The energy that remains in his body is about to run out yet he could not stop stealing glimpses of you.

He lets out one last sigh for the day before he gives a quick peck on your cheeks and smiles. He quickly pushes himself to the top as he embraces your head in his arms. Glancing over the top of your head before letting himself join the night with you.

Staying in the presence with you like this keeps him satisfied even if everything around him has turned into dust.

Just you and him against this ruthless world.

Reblogs and comments are really appreciated xoxo

[mya-valentine]

Debating Hearts

Synopsis: As fierce academic rivals, you and Alhaitham constantly clash in heated debates. But behind closed doors, you're secretly in a relationship—until Kaveh walks in on a passionate moment. Chaos ensues as you desperately try to maintain your academic reputation.

A/N: This is probably my favorite thing ever

The bustling streets of Sumeru City were awash in the midday sun, casting a warm, golden glow on the myriad of scholars rushing through the Akademiya. Among them, two students stood out—Alhaitham and you. Both of you were notorious for your sharp minds, and even sharper tongues. Every debate, every discussion, every single word exchanged between you two seemed to spark an inevitable fire.

Today was no different.

“You’re oversimplifying the mechanics of elemental resonance,” Alhaitham said, crossing his arms, his gray-green eyes locked onto yours with that familiar condescending edge. “If you’d actually read the primary texts instead of cherry-picking from the summaries, you’d see how flawed your logic is.”

You bristled. “Summaries exist for a reason, Alhaitham. It’s called efficiency. Not everyone has the luxury of pouring over every single word like you do.”

“Only a fool would call it efficiency when it leads to inaccuracies,” he shot back, his voice calm but with that hint of smug superiority that drove you absolutely insane.

Oh, how you hated him. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. Because underneath all that animosity, there was something else. Something no one else knew. Something that would flip Sumeru on its head if anyone found out.

You were dating Alhaitham.

Not that anyone would suspect it. The public bickering, the endless arguments, the way you seemed to enjoy tearing into each other intellectually—it all painted the picture of two people who couldn’t stand one another. But behind closed doors? That was a different story.

---

You made your way toward his house after the latest Akademiya debate, a fire still simmering in your chest. The thrill of clashing with him always left you a little exhilarated, your heartbeat still thundering as you knocked on the door. Alhaitham opened it with a smirk already tugging at his lips, as if he knew you were still riding the high of your argument.

“You’re still wrong about the elemental resonance theory,” he said before you could even step inside.

You rolled your eyes but let him pull you in by the wrist, shutting the door behind you. “You just can’t handle being wrong for once.”

“Incorrect,” he replied smoothly, guiding you over to the couch in the middle of the room. “I just can’t handle you spreading misinformation.”

You were about to retort, but then his hands were on your waist, tugging you closer, and all those brilliant counterarguments you’d been preparing slipped away as he leaned down to press his lips against yours.

It was always like this. The fire that sparked in your arguments burned just as brightly when you kissed. There was a fierce intensity in everything you two did—whether it was trading intellectual blows or tangled together on that couch, fingers gripping at each other like you couldn’t get close enough.

Your hands found their way into his hair as the kiss deepened, the heat between you escalating quickly. He pushed you back against the cushions, his lips never leaving yours, even as he spoke between kisses.

“You—still—didn’t—prove—me wrong,” he muttered, voice husky as he kissed down your neck.

You smirked, tilting your head back to give him better access. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy kissing me, you’d have a chance to think.”

He laughed against your skin, his hands roaming your sides before pulling you back up to meet his mouth again. The clash of teeth and lips was electric, the debate still sparking even amidst the haze of passion.

But then, the door swung open.

Kaveh, returning home earlier than either of you expected, burst in, humming some tune to himself. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide as saucers as he took in the sight before him—Alhaitham, shirt slightly rumpled, lips locked with you as you straddled him on the couch, both of you far too engrossed in your little "debate" to notice his entrance right away.

“What the—by the Archons!” Kaveh’s voice was a mixture of horror and disbelief. “What in Sumeru is going on here?!”

The sound of his voice snapped you out of your heated moment, and you instantly shoved Alhaitham away. Your heart leaped into your throat as panic surged through you. If anyone found out about this… your academic reputation, the teasing, the scandal!

Without thinking, you slapped Alhaitham hard across the face.

The sound echoed in the room, followed by a tense silence.

“What the hell are you doing, Alhaitham?!” you shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at him as if this entire situation was somehow his fault. “I thought we were having an academic discussion, not… whatever that was!”

Alhaitham blinked at you, his hand slowly rising to touch the reddening mark on his cheek, bewilderment written all over his usually composed face. “What? You—”

Kaveh, for his part, was standing frozen near the doorway, eyes darting between you and Alhaitham like he was trying to make sense of the bizarre situation unraveling in front of him.

“Oh no, don’t you dare make this about me!” You continued, crossing your arms and glaring at Alhaitham as if he had been the one caught in the act. “I’m just here to have a reasonable debate, and you—”

Alhaitham opened his mouth to respond, looking genuinely confused for once in his life. “You slapped me!”

“Damn right, I did!” you shot back, cheeks burning with both embarrassment and anger. “What was all of that? Trying to kiss me in the middle of an academic debate?!”

Kaveh, still watching this bizarre scene, finally found his voice again. “What in the name of Sumeru is happening?! You two—what—how—WHY?”

You turned to Kaveh, feigning as much indignation as you could muster. “He ambushed me, Kaveh! I was here to debate, and suddenly—ugh!” You huffed dramatically, throwing your hands in the air.

Alhaitham stared at you, utterly bewildered. “We’ve been dating for months—”

You quickly cut him off, stepping on his foot. “What? You’re delusional! Don’t try to make up excuses now!”

Kaveh’s eyes grew impossibly wider as the pieces slowly clicked into place. “Wait… you two have been dating?”

“NO!” You and Alhaitham said in unison, though for very different reasons.

Kaveh blinked, clearly caught between shock, disbelief, and a building sense of dread. “Oh Archons, I need to lie down,” he muttered, backing away from the chaotic scene in front of him. “I… I’m going to pretend I didn’t see any of this.”

As Kaveh disappeared down the hallway, muttering under his breath, you turned back to Alhaitham, who was still rubbing his cheek where you had slapped him.

“You’re going to explain that later,” he said flatly, his tone exasperated but not entirely angry. There was still that glint in his eye—the one that always appeared when he was both annoyed and slightly amused by you.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I had to save face, okay?”

“By slapping me?”

“Yes.”

Alhaitham shook his head, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he pulled you back down onto the couch. “You owe me for that one.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips tugged upward. “I’ll make it up to you,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again, the earlier embarrassment fading as you resumed your little “debate.”

For now, Kaveh’s horror was just another amusing chapter in your strange, secret relationship.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[gay-dorito-dust]

First ofi love your Jason fic's, they are really great and they made me think could you write for Damian as well?

What about Damian x reader (gn or male pls) where they are really great friends but the family thinks they are in a relationship? You know the typical teasing girls usually experience as soon as she talks about a boy "oh is that you boyfriend" the same thing happens too Damian, and now he dreads bringing the reader to his house because his family always had something to say (except Alfred he's cool like that) and it also makes the reader uncomfortable. And one day Damian snaps at them for their weird behavior, telling them that they are the reason why the reader won't visit anymore

I hope this makes sense, if you don't like this, just ignore it.

Have a great day

Damian hated when he brought you over to the Manor and it’s not for the reasons many might expect. It was more so to do with how Dick, Tim and Jason seemed to always have something to say whenever you two were in a room together, only ever doing mundane activities but to Dick, Tim and Jason, it was viewed under an annoyingly unnecessary romantic context.

They firmly believed that in due to you being able to withstand Damian’s presence for as long as you have, that there must be romantic undertones integrated in every interaction between the two of you. The classic trope of friends being in love with each other but not knowing how to cross that line without ruining everything that was pre established from your longstanding friendship; Which was factually incorrect for so many reasons.

You and Damian weren’t anything more than friends and you both were content with that conclusion. However that didn’t stop you from feeling uncomfortable whenever Dick, Tim or Jason said anything about your suspected secret relationship that you’ve been poorly keeping from them. Damian hated that you couldn’t come to the manor without wanting to leave within the first five minutes of being there, he didn’t want to either but knew that you needed him for support whenever it does happen; and it was unfortunately an reoccurring theme within the Wayne manor.

The first time this happened you and Damian were in the library, reading. Your head was innocently resting against his shoulder and all because of the lack of sleep you had from binge watching the midnight release of the latest season for your favourite show. Had you been anyone else Damian would’ve laid you out flat but since it was you, Damian didn’t seem to mind but he then choice to chastise you for your lack to keep to a healthy sleep schedule.

‘You’re helpless.’ He stats and you pouted at him. ‘But Damian it was the last season! I had to binge watch it before people start spoiling it all over social media!’ You defended yourself but it was obvious that your friend wasn’t buying it for a second. ‘Tch. So was our test today but due to your habit of binge watching, and yet you just barely managed to somewhat passable score.’ He replied, not once looking up from his book as you leaned more into him. ‘Rude.’

‘I’m merely stating the-‘

‘Spare some room for Jesus there lovebirds.’ Both you and Damian looked over to see that Jason had entered the library when you were unawares and had a wolfish grin spread across his face. You tensed up at the implication, wordlessly removed your head from Damian’s shoulder and shuffled to the far side of the couch that you were both sitting on. All the while avoiding eye contact either him or Jason.

The latter (Jason) believed that this was done out of the fact that you had gotten caught but to the former (Damian) it was because you had grown uncomfortable with the comment made towards the nature of your assumed relationship to him. So all he could do without making the situation worse for you was to glare daggers into Jason, who only took this as Damian being mad that he interrupted his quality time with you.

The second time this mistake happened was when you and Damian were in the kitchen taking a much needed break from constant studying for the upcoming test at school, replenishing your hunger by wolfing down on some snacks. ‘You’ll choke if you keep that up.’ Damian said between bites of his own snack.

‘No I won’t.’ You rebutted, swallowing down the remains before shoving another bit of food into your mouth hastily and allowing for some crumbs to cling onto you in the strangest places, though mainly your cheek. Damian sighs and reaches across the table to rub the crumbs off with a handkerchief, muttering about how much of a messy eater you are. ‘Can’t even eat properly, never less sleep the required amount needed for proper functionality.’ He mutters under his breath.

‘Will you never left me live that down?’ You asked.

‘No.’ Damian replied without hesitation and you wondered if the question was even worth asking when he answered them in such a confident and sure fire way. Before you could get a chance to speak, Dick’s voice from the doorway butted in. ‘Do my eyes deceive me or is Damian being a gentleman for his lovely partner? Has hell truly frozen over?’ Damian was quick to retract his hand but it was too late, Dick saw everything and much like Jason, took it out of complete context.

‘We should get back to studying now.’ You said uncharacteristically stiff as you pushed yourself out of your chair and walked out of the room without so much of a word, shoulders hunched and head down when you passed by Dick, who watched in slight confusion as to what just happened. Damian on the other hand was starting to reach his limit with his brothers constant teasing, for how could they not see that it was clearly making you uncomfortable even if some of the teasing wasn’t aimed at you directly.

You took it personally on his behalf and he hates that in due to this it made your eagerness to spend time at to the Wayne manor dwindle. You were his first true friend and he didn’t want his brothers to be the reason you decided that you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. Damian wouldn’t admit it but deep down he was scared that he’ll loose you because of it, and that the only way to save your friendship would one day be reliant on your interactions during school hours. Damian knew he wasn’t the easiest to get along but he had to applause your persistence in wanting to befriend him, so much so that he didn’t want you ever thinking that he didn’t bother fighting for your friendship, because he would fight for your friendship with everything he had and then some.

For you’ve become a large part of him that he doesn’t think he could ever imagine living without now that you were so deeply integrated into his very being.

The third and last time you visited the manor was what made Damian snap. All you were doing was have a slow day with the added company of Titus, who was resting his head in your lap as you petted him; The poor dog missed you and it showed with how he whined whenever you dared to stop the pets, it would be made even more difficult not to as he would then paw at you persistently on top of all that.

‘I swear one of these days Titus will follow me home.’ You joked as you reminisced about the times when Titus would try and follow after you as pup and always disregarding Damian in favour for you and your cuddles. ‘He almost did once when you had to go home after our sleepover.’ Even Damian smiled softly at the memory of seeing Titus’ little head pop out of your bag after almost tearing apart the manor for the little mischief maker. He reached over to scratch the dog behind the ear -just how he liked to be scratched- and watched as Titus kicked his back leg in response.

‘He obviously still loves me a lot to be using my lap like this despite being too big to doing it anymore.’ You chuckled, looking down at the big dog with so much love and affection. Damian scoffed. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Titus only likes you because you pamper and baby him.’ You gasped, covering Titus ears. ‘Don’t say that! Titus is still a baby in my heart!’ You exclaimed. The fully grown Great Dane then sneezed in his sleep and you acted as though he said something meaningful before looking back towards Damian ‘see, Titus agrees.’

‘Tch. You’re such a pain.’ Was Damian’s response as he looked away from you, only to see Tim stood a few feet away, watching you both much like how Dick and Jason did and Damian knew what was about to come out of his mouth before he even said it.

And apparently so did you as you managed to stand up, waking Titus up in the process, who was trying to get his bearings back as you said sombrely to Damian. ‘I’ll see you at school tomorrow, yeah.’ Before walking back towards the manor with Titus at your heels.

Before Tim could ask Damian shot him a murderous glare. ‘Batcave. Two days from now. Make yourself useful and bring Todd and Grayson with you.’ Was all he said before storming off towards the manor himself, leaving an taken aback Tim. His limit has officially been reached.

‘Why are we here Damian? Are you going to tell us that you need help with your partner-‘

‘Stop. Just stop with this nonsense you, Drake and Todd seemed to be hung up on because this false narrative you’ve created about myself and y/n is entirely make belief. And we’re suffering from it.’ Damian cuts Dick off but Jason was quick to speak next.

‘Why? Are you lovebirds not together anymore?’

Damian clenched his jaw but couldn’t contain his anger and annoyance towards this entire situation, wanting nothing more than for it to come to an end. ‘WE NEVER WERE TOGETHER TODD!’ Damian exploded. ‘WE WERE ONLY EVER JUST FRIENDS BUT DUE TO YOURS, GRAYSON AND DRAKES’ SHARED STUPIDITY, YOU’RE MAKING THEM UNCOMFORTABLE INTO EVER VISITING ANYMORE!’

‘Why didn’t either of you say anything-‘ Tim tried to talk but was quickly silenced by Damian who still had a lot more to get off of his chest. ‘WE TRIED BUT YOU WE ALL TOO BUSY TEASING US FOR BEING SOMETHING WE NEVER WERE!’ Damian liked to think he wasn’t the type to be quick to anger and how it was such a foolish thing to do. However Dick, Tim and Jason overstepped one too many times for Damian not to speak up about it, making sure it gets into their thick skulls that their weird behaviour almost cost him his friendship with you.

Jason, Dick and Tim felt stupid now and a little ashamed that their teasing could’ve quite possibly drove you away. It wasn’t their intention to do so, but they guessed that they admittedly got slightly ahead of themselves that they didn’t take into consideration of how you felt about all this. Now they felt like right dickheads.

‘I believe they’ve got the message master Damian.’ Alfred said as he looked at Dick, Tim and Jason who looked like a bunch of kicked puppies. ‘How about we invite master Damian’s friend for dinner so that you may tell them you’re sorry for your recent transgressions?’

Dick smiled softly at the butler whom had became another father figure to them. ‘That’s sounds perfect Alfred but only if y/n is comfortable to come.’ He, Jason, Tim and Alfred then all looked towards Damian who had calmed down significantly from his earlier outburst. ‘Tch. I’ll ask but I’m not guaranteeing anything.’ He says to them as he took out his phone to text you, adding a picture of an impatient Titus sitting at the front door waiting for you to come back for added effect, knowing how you couldn’t resist him.

It didn’t take long for you to reply with; ‘fine. I’m willing to bury the hatchet but as long as Titus gets to lay in my lap. That’s my only condition.’

Yep everything was going to be alright.

[youngbounty]

Something I noticed in The Boy Wonder #3 is how it shows Damian’s envy for Tim. It isn’t like with Jason, who believed Tim was a replacement for him. This is Damian wanting what Tim has and feeling unworthy because he doesn’t have it. It’s only in this issue that we see the shadow of Ra’s saying “weakness.”

The first time this is heard is when he’s with Tim talking about their plan. The narrator goes over how Damian is only working with Tim due to his failure to capture the demon in the last issue with Jason. This is the first time we see Ra’s shadow saying “weakness.” This is referring to Damian’s need for a chaperone or what he thinks is a chaperone. As readers that keep up with the Bats, we know Batman is only using this to teach Damian and Tim to work as a team.

The second time is at the gala when Tim is talking with Penguin, who offers him food and riches. Damian clearly despises this and finds Tim’s actions abhorrent. In Damian’s mind, Tim is using his father’s wealth to dulge himself in greed and gluttony. Those that keep up with the Bat comics know that Tim is putting on an act to extract information. However, Damian doesn’t see that. We see the shadow of Ra’s saying “weakness” once again, referring to Tim’s actions and why Damian refuses to participate.

The third time is when Damian leaves to do Robin work and Tim refuses to tag along. He questions Damian’s trust, believing he feels guilty for cutting the man’s head off, but questions if Damian feels bad because it is wrong or because he got caught. Ra’s shadow says “weakness” once again, showing a deeper meaning of what Damian considers “weak.” Even just feeling guilt or questioning his past guilt is considered weak in Damian’s eyes.

The final time is after Tim reveals his favor with Penguin was an act to go after the demon Damian is after. Damian confronts that he only made the incorrect assumption of Tim because he felt threatened by him, wanting to be more worthy than him. This time, Talia’s shadow joins in and we see a shadow of a dejected Damian. He feels greatly ashamed more for allowing his insecurities drive his choices instead of working with Tim or trusting him. Even his mother would disapprove, who ironically was the one who taught him the disgusting nature of gluttony and greed.

These show the root of Damian’s feelings toward Tim: envy. He feels this way because Tim has everything he wants. This makes sense when you consider the past comics. Unlike Jason or Dick, Tim is much closer to Damian’s age. He only got recently adopted, but was Robin way before when his parents were alive. He is not the blood son of Batman and was defeated easily by Damian, yet still has Batman’s trust and worthiness Damian doesn’t have. Tim isn’t broken like Jason or decided his own legacy like Dick, Barbara or Stephanie. Even when Dick took Batman’s mantle, Damian was expected to take it after he was older.

As a result, Damian sees himself as weak, unworthy and undeserving of the Robin mantle he was given. It feels that he only got to be Robin because of his eldest brother, not his father. Damian wants approval, he wants to be worthy of what he’s given.

From here, we see Damian pushing Tim out of the way to save him. It gives him the question he’s been ignoring, likely the very question he took as weakness: would Damian put his life on the line for another, then be strong enough to remember who he is when others try to force him on a different path?

Juni Ba makes it clear that Damian wants only approval he never truly had. His tension towards Tim was never out of hate, but jealousy. It’s only once confronting his insecurities that Damian is able to show us that he never hated Tim. That is his brother he will always put his life on the line for.

[somethingpersonarelated]

On simplifying Akechi

My brain was ridden with these ideas people have about Akechi that piss me off a little. Mostly ones that say he is "just crazy" or "just hates Joker." There's countless metaposts countering these arguments (and they are absolutely wonderful) but I often wonder WHY simplifying Akechi down is so appealing, even to people who are fans of his character. I can't say I've never been immune to simplifications of his character either, and I feel like that's important to admit. I don't even think it's necessarily a bad thing, but I was wondering about that why question.

TW: Discussions of mental health and child abuse

Source: A high schooler's holiday from the P5 Comic Anthology (read it here!)

I do think it's hard for all of the little things Akechi's character builds upon to be conveyed through a single playthrough. If you go in blind or don't finish his confidant, you may only get that surface level exploration of his character. Base Akechi is flashy and still gets the point across that it needs to: he's a foil to Joker and the PTs. However, by missing out on his social links and special events, you miss cultural, relationship, and personal context.

Many words have been said about the translation, particularly in the engine room, being faulty in areas. But some people still don't understand that Akechi's plan isn't to kill Shido, even when the text makes that clear. There's also this scene with Shido, which reads more as an exposition dump in a long section of the game most players will either tune out or skip. Not everything you see will always stick in your head, and Persona is a LONG game. I feel like it's easy to forget people just... forget canon sometimes. It's easier to put these details aside and say Akechi isn't affected by the system he's raised in. But the reality is, you miss what Lavenza says about Akechi's role, you miss that one exposition scene, and you miss the confidant: you believe Akechi had much more autonomy than was actually true. In conversations I've had with people IRL about Persona, 2/3 either skipped or did not finish Akechi's confidant. It isn't improbable, playtimes can range from 100-300 hours, most playthroughs take weeks. People will forget things. It isn't a maybe, it WILL happen.

When the game feeds you so much information, it's also easier to take what the characters say at face value. Doing this with Akechi will bite your ass. Those words in Rank 8 are directly expanded upon in No More What Ifs, the engine room, and 2/2. Maruki and Morgana confirm Akechi doesn't hate Joker, but you never hear Akechi say it himself. To me the game beats you over the head with this information (as the game has a tendency to do for certain situations), but I've also been in the rabbit hole for over a year now.

There's also this idea that recognizing that Akechi was set up by Yaldabaoth, his upbringing, and Shido means that all the venom is taken away from his actions. That isn't true, and Akechi holds to that in third semester. He doesn't give himself any grace for the situation he landed in, wanting to take accountability for it when it is undone without his consent. Akechi is by no means a perfect victim, and he doesn't believe that either. Recognizing that he had no choice, it was either homelessness and neglect or the plan he conjured himself only brings to light the tragedy of his situation, not whether his actions were morally incorrect. He wanted his father to be in his life, and he wanted his father to suffer. He wanted to have someone like Ren in his life, and he couldn't have someone like Ren because his plan would be jeopardized. It's a series of choices, some of which are forced upon him, some of which he chooses himself. That is an important distinction to make.

There's also this idea that Akechi is 'just crazy,' or never suffered from abuse or events that affected him long term. That he doesn't suffer from unspecified mental health conditions or trauma, and chose everything with a clear mind. When someone brings up this argument, it's usually in response to people talking about his life experiences. That somehow, the existence of trauma or a condition is an excuse for whatever he did. There's a double standard here: Akechi is someone who suffers from a condition that makes him 'plain crazy', simplifying his entire motivation and role in the story, while also removing him from the context of his mother, Shido, and his experience with the foster system. Actually interacting with these facets of his character brings to light the challenging things the story asks you to think about when it comes to Akechi: Is he a victim? Is he like the Phantom Thieves? What about his situation informed his choices? Interacting with this requires effort and an actual acknowledgement about what it means to be someone that suffers from trauma. Calling him 'plain crazy' not only is in disservice of textual analysis, but more importantly incorrect (and frankly, it falls straight into ableist tropes about mental health).

Sometimes internet debates/discourse lead to simplification, even just random headcanons may lead to simplification. That isn't always bad. There are many ways to say what I said here in fewer words. I, unfortunately, am not skilled enough to do that. But some of these simplifications lead to entirely incorrect judgements about a character, or even about mental health issues. When that happens, I wish people would learn to reflect about what that means when they interact with a piece of media. Or even with other people.

tldr: people should learn to say they just don't like things instead of coming up with excuses that make no sense. basically

[iovebarca]

Back To Friends? - Pau Cubarsi

Authors note: I know i havent posted in a while and i honestly haven't been on this app at all mainly cause of this dumb situationship i had, but i dont want to get into too much details haha. I'm defo not going back to regularly posting cause my creativity is really low but i want to try and be active more often :)

WC: 1000+

warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, fluff!

The sunlight was merciless, streaming through the thin curtains of your room and landing squarely on the bed. It chased away the comforting shadows of the night, and with them, any chance of pretending this wasn’t real. You blinked against the brightness, a dull ache blooming in your chest as you shifted beneath the covers.

The other side of the bed was cold. Empty. You turned your head and saw him: Pau, sitting on the edge, his back to you, one hand gripping the edge of the mattress and the other scrubbing through his hair. His shirt lay crumpled at his feet, and he hadn’t put it back on yet, like he couldn’t bring himself to move beyond this moment—but couldn’t stay in it, either.

You hesitated, your throat dry, before you broke the silence. “Pau?”

He stiffened, his shoulders tightening. “Yeah?” His voice was low, like he was bracing for something. He still didn’t turn to look at you.

You pushed yourself up to sit against the headboard, clutching the sheet to your chest. “Are you okay?”

He let out a short, humorless laugh, his head tilting forward. “Am I okay?” he repeated, more to himself than to you. Finally, he bent down, snatched his shirt from the floor, and began pulling it on. “I should go. I have training.”

“Training doesn’t start for hours,” you said quietly, watching as he avoided your gaze. The way he moved, so deliberately, so carefully, like he was trying to hold himself together—it stung.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and stood, still facing the door. “Yeah, well... I need to clear my head.”

“Pau, wait.” Your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded. But you couldn’t let him walk out like this, like you hadn’t just spent the most intimate night of your life together. “Are we just... not going to talk about this?”

He stopped mid-step, his hand hovering near the doorframe. Slowly, he turned back to you, and the look on his face made your stomach twist. It was a mess of guilt, hesitation, and something deeper—something he was trying so hard to hide.

“What’s there to talk about?” he asked softly. “It was... a mistake.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and cold, and they hit you like a slap. You stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. “A mistake?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked away, unable to meet your eyes. “We’re friends,” he said, like he was convincing himself more than you. “We can’t... This can’t happen again.”

Your chest tightened, anger bubbling beneath the hurt. “Right. So that’s it? You’re just going to pretend last night didn’t happen? Pretend I don’t mean anything to you?”

“That’s not what I—” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair. He looked so torn, so conflicted, and for a brief moment, you saw the truth in his eyes before he looked away again. “This isn’t fair to either of us.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “What’s not fair is you deciding this for both of us. I was there too, Pau. I know what I felt. And I don’t believe for one second that it didn’t mean anything to you.”

He froze, his jaw clenching. The room was so quiet, you could hear the steady tick of the clock on the wall. Seconds passed, dragging on like hours, and then he finally spoke.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Scared of what?”

“Of losing you,” he said, his eyes finally meeting yours. They were filled with so much emotion, it nearly took your breath away. “Of ruining everything we have. If we try this and it doesn’t work... I don’t know how to go back to being just your friend.”

The vulnerability in his voice broke something inside you. For all his confidence on the field, here he was—Pau Cubarsí, standing in your room, looking like he’d just handed you his heart and was waiting for you to crush it.

“And if we don’t try?” you asked, your voice soft but firm. “If you walk out that door and we pretend this never happened... do you really think things will go back to normal?”

He didn’t answer, his silence speaking volumes.

You stood, the sheet falling from your shoulders as you stepped closer to him. “Pau,” you said gently, “you’re not the only one who’s scared. But I’d rather take the chance than spend the rest of my life wondering what we could’ve had.”

His eyes searched yours, desperate and uncertain. For a moment, you thought he might turn and leave anyway, the fear too much for him to bear. But then, slowly, he let his bag drop to the floor. His hands were trembling as he reached for you, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered, the words tumbling out like a confession he’d been holding onto for far too long. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I didn’t know how to tell you. Last night... It wasn’t a mistake. It could never be a mistake.”

Your breath caught, tears welling in your eyes. “I love you too.”

He let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over his face. And then he was pulling you into his arms, holding you like he never wanted to let go. His lips found yours, and the kiss was everything—soft, tentative, but filled with all the emotion he’d kept bottled up for so long.

When you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, both of you smiling through the tears. “No more running away,” you said, your voice steady.

“No more running,” he promised, his hands still holding you close.

[duchezss]

I recently finished reading all the Lockwood & Co books, and my god they were good, but it got me thinking. If the show continued, like it deserved too, would Holly and Kipps have gotten a signature color the same way the trio did? If so what would they be? Well I was looking at twitter and I saw that most people agree that Holly's color would be yellow, and Kipps' would be white, and I'll be honest I disagree so badly I'm about to write an essay. It's funny because I distinctly remember finishing the books and thinking, "ah watch everyone put their colors as yellow and white cause it's easy". LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER. Y'all just don't get color theory OR the characters the way I do so listen up.

Holly is many things. She's positive, and compassionate, and kind, but she is so much more than that. She's not just a "yellow", yes maybe she is the sunshine of the group, but honestly? Not really, and that's ok. She's fierce and sometimes she has a short temper, she pretends to let everything slide off her shoulder, when really she's just keeping it inside. That's why her and Lucy are constantly budding heads in the beginning of their friendship, they are so similar. I think her color should be red. She's constantly described as wearing it, and I think it really fits her. Red represents passion, energy, confidence, and excitement to name a few. Holly is always described as having a presence, and her energy and enthusiasm comes off her in waves. Red is usually described as the color of love, and I still think that fits. She has such love for the entire crew, and it's so clear she would go to the ends of the earth for them. I also think this would blend in with the others very well. Despite it not actually being blue's real opposite, blue and red are often seen as polar opposites, which really fits for Lucy and Holly's dynamic. It also works because red and orange are both warm colors and George and Holly have always gotten along. They are similar in their methodical and sometimes odd ways of life. I also think it's fun cause Skully's color is green, and green are red are direct color wheel opposites. I'm pretty sure he hates her the most, but Kipps is also competing hard for that title. And lastly black is kinda the color in between, now more on that in a second.

I see what twitter was going for, Lucy and George are blue and orange, direct color wheel opposites, because they are quite literally direct opposites. So it makes sense for Kipps to be white since he's the direct opposite of Lockwood? LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER AGAIN. Tell me y'all didn't understand their dynamic without telling me. Lockwood and Kipps didn't get along cause they were so different, they butted heads so hard because of how similar they are. It's exactly what happened with Lucy and Holly. Plus white represents a lot of things that are definitely not Kipps. My proposed color for him is purple, I know that's a little odd, but walk with me. Although it's never explicitly stated, one can assume that Kipps was an absolute prodigy when he had his talents. I only bring this up, because purple often represents royalty and luxury, and he practically became a fallen king when he lost the only thing he was ever good at it. But purple is much more than that, it also represents bravery, uniqueness. ambition, and justice. I think Kipps' original color is grey, and not just because of the uniform. Grey represents seriousness, sadness, and boredom. That's how Kipps was before, but when he remeets the crew during book 3 and 4, we begin to see the shift. The group helps him gain his ambition back, and with all of their love and support we even begin to see how brave he really is. He has a unique way of going through life, and even when all the odds are stacked against them, he still seeks justice. Purple fits with the general color scheme as well. It's very close to black, which represents how similar him and Lockwood are, and it's also a cooler color like blue. Kipps and Lucy certainly got along the easiest out of the crew.

Overall it just makes sense. George and Holly are the warmer colors, Lucy and Kipps the cooler, and Lockwood as the mediator between them. I feel like red might be a little hard to incorporate without being overpowering, and I know that purple isn't a super masculine color, but hell if those costume designer made full orange outfits look good they can literally do anything. Anyways I know this isn't that important, but ugh I love color theory so much, and I love how much thought the costume designers put in the first time. I feel like having Holly and Kipps color being yellow and white is just a cheap easy shot, and doesn't take into account the characters and their growth enough. I rest my case.

[lazysoulwriter]

Too hot to handle. - Jake Peralta.

I can hardly ever find anything good to read about him, so HERE IS A TRY! Hope y’all like it!

The first time you stepped into the precinct, Jake Peralta had made some stupid joke about hazing new detectives. You had immediately shot back with something just as ridiculous, and it was like watching a cartoon character glitch out. He blinked at you, stunned, and then grinned so widely it looked painful.

Since then, it had been a running joke that you were the only person who could truly keep up with his humor. Which, of course, meant that he was obsessed with trying to outwit you. The two of you were constantly paired together on cases because of how well you worked in the field. Or, as Rosa had put it, “because nobody else wants to deal with you two idiots for longer than five minutes.”

But it was also complicated. Jake never wanted to admit how well you clicked. He made everything a competition, which was fine, because so did you. But anytime things started getting even remotely real—like the time you had patched up a nasty scrape on his shoulder after a foot chase, or when you had fallen asleep on his couch after a movie night—he immediately reverted back to making jokes.

Tonight’s mission was supposed to be easy. Surveillance. You and Jake were supposed to sit in an unmarked car, watching the entrance of a shady bar where a known arms dealer was meeting with a potential buyer. There was no need for any heroics, no need for either of you to go undercover. Just watch, take notes, and report back.

Naturally, that meant you and Jake were going to be stuck in close quarters, which had never been a problem before. Except that lately, there had been a shift in the way he looked at you. A flicker of something behind the humor, something bordering on dangerous.

Jake was lounging in the driver’s seat, fiddling with the radio as he spoke. “Alright, so how long do you think we’ll be here before something exciting happens? Because I give it fifteen minutes before we start making hand puppets with the flashlights again.”

You snorted, settling back in your seat. “Let’s be real. You’ll start doing the puppets, and I’ll be the audience that pretends to be unimpressed.”

Jake gasped dramatically. “You love my puppet shows! You said Gary the Giraffe had ‘real emotional depth’—”

“That was sarcasm, Peralta.”

“Yeah, well, sarcasm is just love in disguise.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you rolled your eyes.

The street outside was quiet. The bar was bustling, but none of the people going in and out matched the photos of the suspects. It was going to be a long night.

You stretched, arching your back slightly. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jake go very still.

Interesting.

You decided to test the waters. “Man, I hate these stakeouts. It’s always the same. Sitting around, waiting for something that never happens.”

Jake cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, you say that now, but last time we got free tacos out of it.”

“That guy was bribing us to leave.”

“A bribe’s just a gift with extra steps.”

You turned to him, catching the way his eyes flicked to your face before darting away. He was fidgeting more than usual, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Alright, spill. What’s up with you?”

“W-what? Nothing. I am completely normal. A hundred percent Jake, baby!”

You raised an eyebrow. “You just called yourself ‘Jake, baby.’”

“I did?” He winced. “Cool, cool, cool, no doubt, no doubt.”

It was painfully obvious now. He was nervous. You tilted your head. “Jake.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re acting weird.”

“Incorrect. I am always weird.”

“Weirder than usual.”

He hesitated, then let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine. You got me. It’s just—look, I’m a detective, okay? My job is to observe. And I have observed that you’re, like...annoyingly hot.”

You blinked. “What?”

Jake groaned, running a hand down his face. “Ugh, I knew this would be embarrassing, but I didn’t think it would be this embarrassing. Look, I’m just saying, it’s very distracting. You exist, and it’s ruining my life.”

You bit back a smile. “Wow. That’s a lot of feelings you just dumped on me in a surveillance van.”

Jake pointed at you. “Don’t deflect. I know you feel it too.”

You stared at him for a long moment, weighing your options.

And then, because you never backed down from a challenge, you grabbed his jacket and kissed him.

Jake made a startled sound before immediately melting into it. His hand slid up to cup your face, and holy shit, he was good at this. His lips were soft, but the way he kissed you was anything but gentle—like he had been holding back for a long time.

When you finally pulled away, he was breathless. “Okay. Okay. That happened. Cool. Just gonna—” He pressed his palms against the steering wheel and exhaled. “Gonna need a second to reboot my brain.”

You smirked. “Reboot faster. The target just arrived.”

Jake snapped back to reality, sitting up straight. “Oh. Right. Crime.” He glanced at you again, grinning. “We should probably talk about this later.”

“Probably.”

“Like, after we finish this case.”

“Mhm.”

“But just for the record,” he added, “you are absolutely too hot for me to handle.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “And yet, here we are.”

Jake grinned. “Yeah. Here we are.”

[courtofstarsanddreamers]

A Quiet Moment

A short bit of domestic fluff for Feysand (feat. Nyx)

You can read it and comment on AO3 here

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“Nyx is asleep.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” Rhys sighed, unceremoniously depositing the correspondence he had brought to the couch with him onto the nearest flat surface, making room for Feyre to sink down next to him. He pulled her in, humming quietly as her head rested against his shoulder. “I didn’t think any living thing could be louder than Cassian, but that child’s crying has proven me woefully incorrect.”  

Feyre snorted softly, leaning into his touch as he stroked a gentle hand down her hair.  

They were both exhausted.  

Between caring for their son and keeping the Night Court running smoothly, hardly an hour passed in a day when they weren’t being run ragged. It didn’t help that Nyx had started teething, and he had made his displeasure with that fact well known to anyone brave enough to hold him through his cries.  

It was rare, having this moment now between the two of them, Nyx fast asleep and no planned meeting or unavoidable task on either of their agendas. Sure, there were plenty of responsibilities they could be tending to. Things that were piling up with every moment they sat here, idle, but Rhys couldn’t bring himself to care as his eyelids fluttered shut under the weight of several days with little to no rest.  

The young cocksure Illyrian warrior he had once been would laugh to see him now. The thought made him smile in spite of himself.  

In the months and years before their son had made his appearance into the world, Rhys would have used this spare moment, any spare moment, to drag Feyre up to their bedroom and get the two of them naked as quickly as possible. To release that seemingly endless tension that sizzled between them.  

Now…  

The thought of even getting to his feet made his body ache. He knew Feyre felt the same. Worse probably, since she was the only one of the two of them able to feed the babe when he woke up screaming in the middle of the night.  

Rhys pressed a kiss to her temple, about as much intimacy as he could muster at the moment.  

“I can’t wait until he’s old enough to send him off to train with the Illyrians,” he murmured, forehead pressed to the side of her head as he breathed in her scent, the scent of their child still clinging to her.  

“You mean that place that gave you, Cass, and Az lasting childhood trauma?” Feyre mused, her hand coming to rest against his stomach. “I don’t think so.” 

“We’ll discuss it later.”  

“I’m not sending our heir into some battle to the death just to prove himself as a warrior.” 

“My father did so with me, and everything turned out just fine.” 

“I don’t think your father is the gold standard you should set for your parenting, Rhys,” she teased, but there was an undercurrent of something heavier there and when Rhysand blinked open tired eyes he saw her brow furrowed.  

He kissed it, and smoothing out the worry just a bit. “No,” he hummed, “probably not.”  

But still, Nyx would have to train. He was more Illyrian than Rhys himself thanks to Feyre’s shapeshifting during his conception. He would need to learn how to control that power in ways that they couldn’t teach him from the safety of their estate in Velaris.  

Besides, between himself, Cass, and Az, Nyx would always have someone looking out for him in Illyria. The other kids would hate him for it–hell, Nyx might end up hating them for it–but they’d keep an eye out.  

“You still with me?” Feyre prodded softly, fingers stroking his side through his jacket as they breathed in peaceful tandem, the house around them miraculously quiet for once. 

“Barely.” Sleep was tugging at him as insistently as the mating bond. They should go to bed. He should carry Feyre up to bed, lord knew she deserved to rest. But Rhys couldn’t force his body to move a single muscle. 

Feyre didn’t seem to mind. She adjusted a moment later, tucking her feet up onto the couch and laying down, head in his lap, soft hair splayed over his thighs and those gorgeous full lips parted in a sleepy sigh.  

You look like an angel.  

He let the words float down the bond, too content with the silence around them to break it by speaking aloud. Her lips twitched up as she nuzzled into his lap.  

He fell asleep right there on the couch, hand still resting atop Feyre’s head, fingers slack where they wove between strands of silky hair. By some small blessing, Nyx didn’t wake for hours. At some point, another member of their family must have walked in, seen the two of them, and laid a blanket over Feyre, because when Rhys did awake, she was tucked in and warm, breathing so peacefully it made his heart swell.  

He extricated himself from the situation carefully. Slowly. Not daring to wake his mate. But he did carry her to the bed finally, using his powers to soften each movement as he climbed the stairs and laid her out on the bed, pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. A soft grunt escaped her as she shifted, finding a comfortable position once again, and Rhys just smiled.  

His mate, the mother of their child, and High Lady of this court that they both called home.  

He would never stop wondering what he did to deserve such a blessing.  

He tucked the blankets up to her chin and murmured into the warmth of their shared bedroom, “Sleep, Feyre darling.” There would no doubt be more pressing concerns when she awoke, more correspondence to reply to, more meetings to attend, more people to save. And their beautiful baby boy to look after. But for now, with a soft smile that seemed to glow from within as Rhysand quietly shut the door behind him, he would let Feyre sleep.  

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