#he is up to something he shouldn't be that's why he's got a little devil on his screen

[merkerler]

Given the results of a poll on my main, I have drawn Bexter, an OC created by @manda-kat who I have wanted to draw since she started talking about him back I-don't-know how long ago, but I'm slow so it took a while. Takes some time sometimes but if I decide I want to draw something, I eventually do it lol.

[virtuald0ll]

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

♡⸝⸝𝒶𝓁𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓎 | 𝒦𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑜, 𝒯𝑜𝒿𝒾, 𝒮𝒶𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

⌞♡⸝⸝ 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈⌝ NSFW, Age gap (Reader is 21), Petnames, Dilf fucker Reader (Toji), established relationship (Gojo), small hint of degradation, ⌞♡⸝⸝ 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉s⌝ 1.3k ⌞♡⸝⸝ 𝒟𝑜𝓁𝓁𝓎'𝓈 𝑀𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒶𝑔𝑒⌝ First Post yippieee, got a little carried away on Kento's part ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) for Gojo's part I'd like to mention that he only felt attracted to reader once she was 18 (legal age in my country). English is not my first language!! Not Proofread!

♡⸝⸝𝒦𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑜

He knew he shouldn't but , he couldn't resist it, he couldn't resist you. He was too old for you , in his opinion, you should be with someone the same age as you , not his age. But why was it that you always came crawling back to him? He couldn't deny you anymore as much as he wanted , even though he didn't want to deny you, his facade was crumbling more and more each time. Each and every single caress your hands left on his arm, that sweet smile on your face whenever you greeted him and brought him something from the bakery. He wanted you , but his mind didn't let him , you shouldn't be with someone like him , someone who was nearing his thirties and couldn't give you what you wanted. The age gap worried him , but all those worries flew over his head when you sat down on his lap. That stupid pencil skirt of yours riding up and revealing more of your sheer tights cladded thighs. He swallowed a thick lump as he leaned back into his chair , his eyes never leaving yours as his breathing turned uneven. Your hand reached out , fingers brushing his blonde locks back and out of his face before gently grabbing his glasses and pulling them off of his face.

The tension waas thick , thick enough to be cut with a knife , his heart hammering against his chest. Kiss her , Kiss her , Kiss her, he was having an internal battle himself , his mind fighting against his heart , like a little devil and angel on his shoulders — but in the end, he listened to his heart. Your lips felt so soft against his dry ones , his calloused hands roaming your body over your clothes , his right hand groping your ass befoe garbbing the fabric of your pencil skirt and hiking it up to your waist. Your tights just screamed at him to rip them open , a quiet ripping noise ringing in your ears as he tore the thin fabric up — ultimately creating a big hole in your crotch.

You moaned softly as his cock started to chub in his trousers , a dent froming as all the blood in his body rushed down to his cock. Your ass pressed against it , his hard cock fitting so perfectly between your ass cheeks. " What happened to me being too young fro you?", you mumbled against his lips , earning gruff huff from him. "Be quiet Sweetheart.. I've changed my mind, I'm listening to my heart now", it didn't take long for your panties to be pushed aside , his thick length stretching your tight walls around the girth of it — he didn't care anymore , age was just a number as long as everyone is off age , nor did he care that anyone could walk in any moment , he was too focused on how well your pussy took his cock.

♡⸝⸝𝒯𝑜𝒿𝒾

"Always such a sweet 'lil thing for me , aren't 'ya? Taking my cock so good and deep into that slutty little hole of yours. You like fucking old man , don't 'ya?", his voice was almost mocking you as he rammed his cock inside your cunt , his fat tip kissing your cervix with each thurst his hips delivered, Wet squelching noises rung in your ears — wet squelching noises your pussy created. You could only moan in reply , his rough hand gliding down your bare back , thick fingers wrapping around the back of your neck to press your head further into the pillow. "Your pussy is the best.. taking me so fucking well. So tight and warm , so sensitive and easy to play with", he snickered hoarsely, smoke coming out of his mouth after he took a drag of his cigarette before leaning over and placing the burning cigarette into the ashtray on the night stand. His hands firmly grabbed your shoulders , forcing your back to arch as he pulled you up and fucked you back against his cock — his cock bullying its way deeper inside your cunt, so deep that it had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"If only you could see how much your pussy is creaming my cock ... such a slutty hole you have", he grunted under his breath as he felt your creamy hole clenching around his cock , his thrusts getting rougher than before. Your pussy was such a cute lil thing to him , so easy to please and always taking his huge cock like a champ , as if you were a pocket pussy created just for him. He didn't care if this was wrong , pussy is pussy , even if you were one of Megumis Friends — if only his son knew how much of a cockhungry slut his dear friend was. The same friend his son always spoke so highly about , the same friend who'd in the beginning give him shy little smiles — the same friend who was now chanting his name like a mantra and moaning like a slut.

♡⸝⸝ 𝒮𝒶𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓊

He didn't care if you were younger than him , he just waited for you to graduate befoer shooting his shot — after all , a Student-Teacher relationship was scandalous. But god , was it hard to resist you — he may or may not have pulled you away during your training just to make out with you in the empty classroom. You were always so obedient and listened to everything he said , but you also fought back just to rile him up — just like now. "What? Are you too old now to fuck me properly?", you teased as his pace slowed down , his blue eyes looking down at you with a loving gaze, a smirk spreading on his face. "Not excatly , just thought I'd slow down just in case you weren't going to be able to handle me Sweetheart", truth to be told , he didn't want to get rough with you despite how much he loved rough sex — you were just so delicate in his eyes. He wasn't sure if you were going to be able to handle him , but lately , he was having a hard time controlling himself. He wanted to fuck you hard and rough , to have you screaming his name , scratching him up and creaming his cock — but he never showed you his rough side. You could only snort in reply.

"Oh please , not being able to handle what? Your soft vanilla pace?", you taunted him , you knew that he had more in him, he practically gave you nothing. "Oh? I'll show you sweetheart... I'll show you how a real man fucks , not like those wimpy losers you used to date", he leaned back , his knees digging into the matress as he grabbed your thighs and draped them over his shoulders before leaning forward , making your knees bend and press against your chest. "Don't complain later ...", he mumbled under his breath before moving his hips again — at first , slowly to get you used to the change of positon, your eyes already rolling back and closing from how deep he was inside you. His ego was boosting as he watched your mouth fall open , a confident smirk on his face as he watched the way your eyes flew open as he put you in a mating press and drilled his cock inside your tight cunt.

Your hands were desperately clinging onto him as he fucked you just the way he liked — deep and rough. He was sure that his back was going to bleed with how your nails dug into his skin , scratching his pale back up and painting red scratch marks on it, his back your canva and your nails your paint brush. Your mind was fuzzy , you didn't know how long he had been going for you to already cum 4 times while he didn't even cum once.

[neonovember]

I have a sort of angsty hurt to comfort idea for Carmy 😈 Okay but Claire coming back into his life and obviously you’re both dating, but maybe sort of feeling a little bit left out and feeling guilty for feeling a little insecure because you know Carmen’s loyal and Claire seems like a lovely person. Not saying anything because you obviously want him to be happy and you know there’s a part of you that’s being irrational. But THEN, maybe for whatever you also personally know Luca! Perhaps from something work related or had mutual friends and then maybe getting back into contact with him through Marcus and really hitting it off with him and having a respectable normal healthy friendship with him, but Carmy’s on the side going “What the cinnamon toast FUCK is this”. And it culminates in an argument which ultimately leads the both of you to opening up and discussing boundaries and airing out insecurities, and just being super vulnerable and communicating with one another

Love and War (I)

warnings; claire, arguing, threats of violence, anxiety, my writing

i had like 4 different versions of how this story was supposed to go, hope you enjoy the one i finally let see the sun

a/n: yeah...so shit hit the fan and kind of derailed my life for 6 months. I hope you will forgive me, i feel like an absentee father. (part two will be posting right after i swear!)

divider by @firefly-graphics

You aren't jealous.

You have never experienced the slimy green devil in any of your past relationships, so you shouldn't feel it now.

Your mind isn't fond of what it should feel however, and instead, you feel a burning ache begin to burst through your chest as you watch Carmen nod excitedly at Claire in the Beef’s front dining space. It disgusts you, how this feeling wraps around your heart like sludge. You've been trying to focus on prepping for the new menu, gathering different ensembles of compotes and sauces, but your eyes always finds it’s way back to them.

And her.

Claire had burst into Carmen’s life seemingly out of nowhere, and it took one exchange between you both to know it was different. Claire had something you didn't with Carmen, a past, and the discomforting feeling of being on the outside looking in was all that blared in your mind the past few weeks since her appearance.

It wasn’t like Claire was rude, no that would have made this feeling easier to bear. She was nice, for god sake. The only person in Chicago who it seemed had not yet gotten all their goodness sucked out, and she had to have been Carmen's old friend. And a friend was all she was, so why did you- why are you jealous?

She knows him better than you do.

You shake the thought out of your mind so furiously the container in your hand spills onto the cutting board. You weren't going to go there, not when Carmen hadn't done anything wrong.

 You wanted him to have friends, to broaden his circle from beyond just the Beef and Sugar, who you made sure to point out didn't exactly count. So you should be happy, ecstatic even, that he was able to reconnect with someone that had known him for so long.

But she had known him for so long. 

And you know you're being irrational and hypocritical and you know you can’t own someone else, but maybe there was a part of you that liked that you had him all to yourself.

Carmen was different. To your other relationships, your other friendships, everything. You and Carmen danced around your feelings for so long that when it exploded into heated kisses and confessions of love one night after a dazzling dinner service, it had already felt like you had been with him for years.

And Carmen was devoted to you, he sang it into your skin every chance he got. It was just that those chances had begun to dwindle day after day the more Claire came around, until you had begun to detest the sound of her name leaving his mouth.

Steeping your fingers in cold water, you wipe them hastily no your aprosn before making your way over to them both. Fixing your face from quivering lips into a tight smile.

You wipe your messy hands in your apron, steeping your fingers before making your way over to them both. Fixing your face, you pull your quivering lips into a tight smile.

“Hey, Claire. How are you doing?” 

“Oh hey! Good good, Carmen was just telling me about this cool hole in the wall down 85th.”

“Ruth’s Bar?”

“Yes! That’s the one. They really do saffron popcorn there?” Claire replies, eyes bulging.

“Yep, mix it in with a little alcohol and then pour it into the butter. Entertainment is almost too good that you forgot about how amazing it smells though”

“We should go out some time!”

“Definitely. Carmen, were you alright with Thai tonight?”

“Oh” Carmen replies, scratching the back of his head

He forgot.

“Yeah, sorry hun I promised to take Claire to-”

“This new fusion place! I saw it online and Carmen offered to take me.

You voice pitter and curls as you gulp down the innate urge to reply with a deadpan ‘What?”.

“Oh. Ah- okay. What’s the place?” You reply, your voice on the verge of shaky as you blink through Claire, watching to see if there was any semblance of guilt in Carmen.

There wasn't, he was taking her out on a night reserved for you to. As if they hadn't spent nearly everyday together, as if Claire hadn’t imprinted her ass on the bar chair’s sharing pieces of things you never could with him.

“It’s called Route Creale?” Claire replies, excitedly, obviously to the sour expression on your face as she butchers the name of the restaurant.

“La Route Créole” You correct, almost unconsciously. 

Practiced from the amount of times you had excitedly to Carmen about the Trinidan-French fusion place, looking through the menu together, huddled over your cracked phone screen in the early morning in your bed. Listing of dishes and dishes that made you squeal in delight. 

You had told Carmen how bad you wanted to go, how bad you wanted both of you to try it together, and instead, instead he takes her. 

He takes her.

“Easy, not everyone has spent months as the head Poissonnier in Port Of Spain” Carmen jokes, head tilting as you stammer, eyes focused on the floor.

“What the hell is a Poissonnier” Claire replies giggling

And as Carmen clarified to her, gripping her arm as he rambles on the importance of the distribution of fucking cooking stations your mind kind of skips.

It falls over itself like a misshapen piece of the sidewalk. Your eyebrows are screwed and you're looking at Carmen looking at Claire. For a second you are confused, wholeheartedly and entirely confused to the very marrow of your being. Who was this person in front of you? It couldn’t have been your Carmen.

Your Carmen who wrote you letters left on food packages and stuffed in your locker. Your Carmen who would follow you around like a lost puppy, enthralled by your every move. Your Carmen who sung you to sleep in horrible drunken renditions of “Livin on a prayer”.

Jesus he knew every part of you, every inch of yourself like a road map, forks and branched  roots across your skin. You hug your mid section tightly, fingers digging through the cotton of your button chef shirt.

No, no. Someone must have come in and taken his face, his clothes, his mouth.

But he smells like him, the same deep scent of cocoa and burnt cigarettes. You could press your lips to his, but you don’t know if he’d like that anymore. 

You know when someone is slipping away, you’re not one to guard your food like a stray dog. And no matter how hard you want to sink your teeth into him and not let go, you don’t have a choice.

The squealed sound of Claire rips you from your reverie, and your eyes shoot up to catch her grip Carmen's shoulder, her head tilted back and eyes squirmed shut in laughter. The ripple of jealous rage that bursts through every limb in your body causes you to subtly turn on your heel, rushing out of the suffocating stench of betrayal. 

Fingers digging to unlace your apron that feels as if like a vice around your chest, unheard to the inquisitive shouts of Richie and Syd, until you hear the slam of the backdoor behind you.

Your leg jitters as you walk around in circles, grinding your jaw as visions of Claire and Carmen flash in your mind. Fisting the washcloth in your hand till your knuckles turn white, you stuff your face into it, masking the scream of festered anger that rips from your throat. 

You’re pathetic, you don't get to feel jealous. Carmen would never even think of it, of betraying you. But he also wouldn't have taken the very restaurant you had been gawking at for the past month and taken someone else to it. Right in your face.

You don’t know if he even noticed your abrupt disappearance, your eyes shift to the door, waiting, hoping. Ears perked up at any sound of rushing footsteps to come find you. 

Angry tears gather at the waterline when all you hear is the rumbling traffic behind you and the flutter of shrikes above.

You’re not jealous, you’re fuming

You hate it, no, you hate him. You seethe as you're forced to sit in it pushing the adoration and love you have for him to make room for it in your mind. It takes over, overcrowding your brain till you can't hear anything else, where even the buzzing of your phone is unregistered till your thigh begins to itch.

Oh god you told him about those times before, you told him. And he had wiped your tears and kissed your eyelids, damning your past boyfriend who had left you forsaken.

Wiping a hand across your face, you reach down to grasp the metallic slick edges. And the image of Luca flashing across the screen stumps you frozen till it rings out. You hadn't seen him since Denmark, in fact it had been years.

The ping of a text shakes you from the memories of spending months on boats and pastry kitchens in Copenhagen, the gray bubbles appearing on your screen.

“Gonna be in Chicago for a bit, wanna test out if your Mille-Feuille is still up to standard?”

You want to say that you answered Lucas' text in that brief moment out of genuine curiosity. That you would have wanted to see him whether Clair had uprooted your life with Carmen either way.

But you’d be lying to yourself.

The slight drizzle drips down your screen phone, muddying and blurring the Lucas texts till you have to wipe your shirt across it. You hesitate though, you think the blurred messages between you both absolves you of guilt. That it was as if you were lookin through pane fogged glass. But you slide your hand across the screen and it brightens to your eyes, defying every word between you both. You want to see Luca, Carmen had no hesitation when it came to Claire, oh no, he wouldn't think twice before spending the day with her. 

Days like today, where you would usually be posted up in Carmens old beaten leather couch, the cushions weaning under your weight as you ate rice steeped in coconut milk and kung pao on plates.

It’s tradition, or it once was. So much of what you held close to your heart had been left to ruins, maimed and disfigured. Pulled from under you when you had thought it sacred, you should have expected this, it was too good. You’ve stewed in your deprecation look enough till it turned bitter, outpouring harsh streaks of anger from your heart instead.

You helped Sydney finish up the last of the next evening's desserts, waving her off with a smile when she had asked about your sudden departure earlier. She ignored the way your hands shook, and you reached for your things and rushed home before she could prod further.

You felt dirty.

Like Carmen was replacing you slowly, out from under you. Did he think you were too stupid to realise? You don’t want to imagine the things shared between them, and yet you do. Scrubbing your skin raw in the shower does little to scratch the memory of them out of your mind.

You’re resting on the edge of your bed, clutching your towel as you look towards your closet. Phone in hand at Lucas' text inviting you to dinner at his place, you turn Carmen’s picture on the dresser face down before reaching into your closet, and pulling out a dress you had forgotten existed.

When you slide the silk fabric onto your body, it feels anew. Like you were a different skin. It flutters at the edges of your calf, long and rich in colour in elegance.

Your hair is left in its natural state, running some products through with your fingers till the sticky crème is gone from between your knuckles. Carmen always loved your hair this way.

So did Luca.

Your time spent in Copenhagen didn't necessarily involve Luca, not at the start anyways. You were reviewing foods around Denmark, a long awaited food tour you had begun saving for before culinary school, and had made a pit stop at a weathered bakery. 

It wasn't on your repertoire for your trip, in fact you had thought nothing of it, a transitional spot to grab an espresso and maybe a danish.  It had seen better days. The wooden doors stained and creaking as you passed through, inside though, inside was as if you had entered the warmth of someone's heart and soul. Delicate paintings and familial photographs hang on the walls, low lamp lighting, a built-in fireplace that defrosts your fingers wedged in your coat pocket.

The most strange and endearing thing, however, was the bar attached on the same counter as the paned glass display of baked goods. In all your time in food, you had never seen a bakery that doubled as a..brewery? Distilled barrels hitched atop the caramel coloured walls, jugs and glasses perched atop the counter. You weren't necessarily a drinker per se, but the thought of filling your stomach with liquid heat pushed you to shut the door behind you and set your things on the bar counter.

“Now what makes someone as sunny as you walk into the most haggard bakery in all of Copenhagen?” A Brooklyn lilt voice calls from the small entryway into the back kitchen, a tall blonde man wipes his hand on a dishcloth, the tired features of cooking for hours you know to well etched on his face.

You stand right in surprise, you half heartedly expect the embodiment of Hagrid to walk out, and instead New York came bustling through. 

“You sure you aren't lost sweetheart? Lookin’ for Noma?”

“I’m told I can get a pint of something hard and dry with my croissant” You murmur, cockling your head to the side “Or does this fine establishment not know how to laminate dough?”

From that moment on, you had spent almost every day in Denmark being guided to the “actually” good food spot in the city. You wanted to deny it, holding your list of restaurants and bakeries you had died to try since your trip to your chest like a rare jewel.

But God did those alleyway Frikadeller’s taste like religion. You wanted to fall to your knees and pledge your devotion.

Still, after you had draine the last of your savings on cider and meatballs your craft was calling to you from the States. Luca had told you things you had not even read in the mountain of textbooks and ‘Pastry 2’ tutorials you were assigned as a student, marveling at the intricacy of pastry and the world of dough.

He had mentioned a Chef he admired, one he wanted you to meet yourself. You wondered all those months who could have bested Luca. 

And then you met Carmen.

Time and distance had feathered the brief but all consuming intimacy you and Luca shared. It wasn't like you had shared a bed together, no, it was far more deeper than that. You both shared the unraveling layers of your joint obsession;

Food.

It tethered you to each other so finely that even now, after years of no contact, you knew you would fall back into the same rhythmic dance you once had those years before.

It shakes the nerves from your body when you finally rack your knuckles against Luca’s restaurant door.

“Comin, comin, don’t break down the door” Luca’s silky voice laments from deep within the restaurant, before the iron door opens and you’re met with golden streaked hair and a wine stained apron.

“Why is it that every time I see you, you've got something stained on your face” You smile

“It’s the Lucas charm, what can I say” or “Oh please, you eat whatever caused those stains.”

“You say this now, but you’ll be praying to these stains when you taste you’re menu tonight” Lucas smirks

You chuckle shaking your head, before Lucas pulls you into a hug

“4 years and you still smell the same”

“You know I'm a women of routine, like the same bottle of perfume and my eggs-”

“Over easy, yeah yeah.”

“You know me so well!”

“No I just can’t get the smell of sunflowers from out my nose even years later”

“I paid a pretty penny for it, it should be fucking ever lasting”

Lucas shakes his head in a smile, and flashes of stomach pained laughter in pebbled alleyways and chef’s kitchens lights up your mind.

“What are you doing over here Luca?”

“A friend who works in restaurant business asked me to help get one of his locations up and runnin’ in Chicago” Luca replies

You follow him through drywall and scaffolding poles, catching the beginnings of the seating area as you observe the paint swatches on walls . The menu does always comes first.

“And this is you up and running? Conducting mini-master classes for old friends” You joke

“Mhm, don’t think we can classify ourselves as old friends just yet. It was just yesterday the last I saw you.” Luca replies in ponder

“Right, that must be all the gas fumes from looming over sauce pans for eons going to your brain. You do know nobody forced you to make that 36 hour long creme brulee right?” You tease

Lucas fights a giggle as he remembers the dish he had slaved over two nights, “And that sauce earned me a damn near Michelin Star.” 

“Yeah, you probably should've been awarded a Nobel Prize for that” You admit, leaning against the stainless steel table counter of the central kitchen.

“Heard you started working with Carmen, he's good isn't he?”

The brick that had begun to dislodge from your throat slips back in, gulping down an uneasy breath as you give him a tight smile.

“It’s wonderful, he's really something” You murmur, thanking the gods that Lucas was too busy rummaging around the fridge to notice your features melting into malice.

“I wanted to keep this a secret, but who am I kidding. Come, I wanna show you something”

Lucas comes over, rolling your eyes as he makes you take off your coat. Hes eyes skim down your figure fast enough for you not to notice, but you feel him linger gently grasping the cotton of you fleece before hooking it onto a door handle.

To your surprise he pulls out a crisp chef apron, nodding with wide eyes as you stare at him baffled.

“Do you think my text was a joke? C’mon I know you, you would've been sitting there working yourself up not being able to get your hands dirty”

You chuckle sheepishly as you agree, cooking was your life. Even if you had gotten out of a 24 hour day you’d still sore your bones over a good meal. Especially with Luca.

You walk over to him, noting the papers scattered on the table counter and a laptop opened, the light streaming in. It’s opened to a leasing site, a run down appliance store who’s store wide sale had begun peeling off the windows.

“What's this?” You murmur, confusion in your voice as your eyes jump over the listing description quickly

“This is a home furniture store”

"Yes I gathered that from the block letters Luca, what does it mean?” You look over Luca whos grinning widely at you

“You know this used to be an old mill factory? The ones they'd make 7 year old work 20 hour shifts on?” Luca continues

“Have you turned into an anthropologist? Is this what this is? You takin’ a career change this late in the game old man?” You tease.

Luca doesn't laugh, he doesn't even roll his eyes, he just continues grinning ear to ear. You’re suddenly afraid he’s body has been tossed in a dumpster in Frederiksberg and this is his body double.

“It was practically a bakery, sweets. Who better than me to bring it back to its roots?” Luca replies finally as you were considering the best option to escape through the fire exit

You’re stumped before it dawns on you, Luca is gonna open his own bakery? Restaurant? You weren't clear as to what it was going to be exactly but you knew by the look of excitement on his face that it was his.

“You and goddamn rundown buildings” You shake your head, as Luca looks at you with a stupid smile, you can't help but let out a laugh.

“Tis only right I tell the person who saw me sweating in that furnace heated bakery in Denmark daring. It’s fate, and you know it” Luca replies

You chuckle, before bursting in excited laughter, oh you were so happy. You were, it had been his dream, to bring back some of heart that had been left in that flour room when he had come back to the States

You grab his hands, holding them tightly, reaching for his face and jaw and bringing him to your chest with adoration.

“Oh Luca, really? You did it?” You grin and he gazes down at you in sheepish resignation.

“Already put down the payment. Drained half my bank account so I’m going to have to DIY the architecture, and just engineer structure of the place but I dont care.” He chuckles

“Who cares about structural support when they taste that 36 hour creme bulee huh?” You chime, teasing.

You let go of his face but he grabs your wrist tightly,

“I want you to join me.”

You heart stills for a second, and you don't know if its the rush of nostalgia or the anger over Carmen that fights over your tongue to say

“Yes”

“I know you've got a good thing going with Carmen, and it won't interfere with that-”

Luca stammers before stopping abruptly, raising his eyebrows in confusion at your reply. He cocks his head to the side

“It’s fine, I can leave the Beef and help open it up with you”

“Woah woah wait a second, I didn't say leave Carmen-”

“That DIY job isn't going to be a one man job, besides I’m not that valuable there really, just help around here and there. Carmen could do without me to be honest, one less person to pay ya know? It's fine really” It your turn to ramble incessantly, slipping the resentment against Carmen and Calire through your jumbled reply

“Yeah? Is that why you're balling your fists?”

You look to Luca, whose eyes zero in on your shaking hands. You put them behind you quickly, self conscious as you bite your lip.

“You and I both know when you’re runnin’ from something. You really think you can hide things from me of all people?

“You don't want me working for you Luca? I just said I’d leave what I'm doing to do this with you”

“And I want you too, but I also know it's been a dream to work with someone as talented as Carmen”

“Yeah real fucking talented” 

Luca looks at you, squinting his eyes

“I’ve talked to him you know” He murmurs softly, eyes still strained on you

“What?” You scoff, shaking your head

“And the way he gushes about you tells me enough. He damn near sounded like he was going to jump through the phone and ring my neck after I had told him I knew you before. The way he says your name? Tell me you're not just an employee, and the menu I’m hearing all around the city? Lavender and hazelnut? Lime and pistachios? That's all you. Even if you don't know it, you've imprinted yourself into that place and every dish Chicago is raving about” Luca replies, and his voice is low and his eyes are wide as he looks at you can’t not ignore him.

“I know you don't give up easily, and I’m not trying to play mediator, but just- think on it okay? You're going to be a part of this, that is certain. But you're a part of a lot okay? Being the head sous chef is nothing to what they’d make us do back in New York and you know it.”

You're about to bite back a reply before Luca raises his eyebrows, as if he's already as an onslaught of resorts to everything you have to say. You resign yourself to the fact; Luca knows you damn near better than yourself.

“Okay, I’ll think on it. Having you suffer a little without me is a nice image anyways” You reply, rolling your eyes as you tighten your apron. 

Luca chuckles as he shakes his head, motioning you to help start making your dinner.

The sounds of sizzling pans and braised meat left your stomach full and your heart heavy hours later. The heated argument you had with Luca seemed hours ago when you both had let the food bring you back into synchronization. 

You both sat criss cross on the unfurnished dining room floor, a plastic tarp underneath you both as you gorged yourself on duck, potatoes and cheap wine. You regret ever hesitating meeting with Luca, and you suppose you should thank Carmen for that.

Luca knows it's weighing heavy on your mind as he eyes you across the kitchen, wrapping up some leftovers for you. You shake your head as you gaze at him, giving him a reassuring smile that you know he doesn't believe. 

“If it all goes wrong you know you can come to me, anytime anywhere” Luca whispers into your ear as you fall into a tight embrace.

“Getting pretty tired of running my whole life Luca, god I just want to rest.”

“Then let yourself”

The uber comes and you kiss Luca goodbye as he bundles you into the backseat, the shower earlier has now filtered into a slight drizzle and you watch the slow rain drops glide down the window languidly. 

You didn’t want Carmen to be home when you arrived, but the thought of him being out with her this late had you gritting your teeth. You didn't know what you wanted.

taglist

@hansfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @parmforcarm @nolita-fairytale

[thetreefairy]

Could you do another platonic yandere gojo where the reader refuses to call him papa or dad or sensei or anything after he kidnaps them so the reader just keeps calling him gojo? How would he react ?

Post mentioned : A purge with little chances

Warnings: yandere themes, manipulation, silent treatment, purge au, kinda angst? swearing, restraining, gojo hurts reader on purpose, not really explicit so-

Gn student reader, reader does have curly coded hair

Kofi - main masterlist

Dad loves you

Gojo had it all planned out, he would have an adorable child and Megumi would keep them company when he couldn't.

And after Reader's adaption period the other students would be able to visit them too, maybe even taking them out on trips with his other students.

But Reader wasn't doing what he planned,

to be fair, they were stuck on their bed with broken legs and needed to ask him for help on the most basic things. Which, in his mind, was holding back the adaption period.

Reader was quiet and loved being alone, something he found rather adorable.

But Reader still hasn't called him any variation of dad, and even stopped calling them sensei!

So today he got Megumi to come over and try to find out why Reader isn't calling him by his proper title as their yandere caretaker.

"Reader," Megumi started. "Wanna talk?"

Reader looked Megumi, giving him a side eye and ignoring him as well. Reader didn't have the energy to deal with them, they just couldn't.

This caused Gojo to walk over to their bed and pressing on their leg, causing Reader to gasp out in pain. "You will talk to Megumi," He hissed. "I'll go away for an hour, I expect Megumi to tell me how it went."

This caused Reader to glare at him, their eyes full with tears. "How about we do your hair, huh?" Megumi asked. "Teacher has no idea how to take care of it."

This caused Gojo to stick his tongue out as he left and shouted: "Be good!"

And that's how you were now being pampered by your old best friend while he was trying to convince you to at least call Gojo father. You just cried.

"I don't want to acknowledge him as my dad." Reader mumbled. "Teacher has been kind to you, so why don 't you want to?" Megumi asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you stupid?" Reader hissed. "He took away my freedom, my choices, this bitch even fucked up my hair while i finally had some type of hair care!"

Megumi rolled his eyes. "You are so petty, you know that this is how the purge goes."

Reader gave him the middle finger, knowing full well he's saying that to pain Gojo in a good light.

And speaking of the devil

"Awhh, Megumi you got Reader's hair to look pretty!" Gojo greeted the two. "You should teach me sometime, or Reader can!"

Reader was still ignoring him, much to his annoyance, and from the look on Megumi's face. It wasn't gonna change soon, so perhaps he needed some drastic manners, maybe he should take away all their freedoms.

"Megumi, thank you for babysitting, I'll take it over." Megumi knew that look on Gojo's face. "Stay calm, they are simply acting out of frustation." Megumi whispered in Gojo's ear as he left.

But he didn't care anymore, he carried Reader to their bed, while their legs were healing, perhaps they shouldn't be. Maybe he should restrain Reader to the point they are nothing but a hopeless baby.

Maybe then they would call him dad or pa.

While reader was ignoring them, he decided to apply pressure to their legs rather severe. "Gojo- Stop!" Reader shouted, breaking their silence while holding back sobs. "Shh." He whispered, Reader was sure their legs broke again.

"Dad loves you, he's just doing this for your safety." He whispered in Reader's ear. "Dad will protect you."

[one-piece-aus]

Whumptober Day 24

Paulie x Reader

"[Y/N]! THAT DRESS IS WAY TOO SHORT! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?!"

"Calm down, Paulie." You roll your eyes and adjust your hold on your clipboard. "It's right at my knees, no big deal."

"Of course it's a big deal! This is a work zone and you're distracting the men here!" Paulie scolded with flustered red colouring his face.

Ah, such is the life of a lady working in Dock 1. You were part of the inventory keepers, noting when supplies arrived and where they'd go. Paulie the shipwright gambler, kept getting flustered over every little thing about your appearance when you two ran into each other during the same shift. At first, it bothered you, and if it weren't for Paulie seeming to be one of Iceburg's favourites, you would've tried drowning him. Then, someway, somehow, he grew on you.

"Oh pleasure, I won't be distracting anyone." You wave your pen around dismissively. "Besides I even got bending down covered, I'm wearing shorts underneath, see."

You tease him and lift the hem of your dress to show him your black shorts. Paulie's nose exploded blood out, steam flying from his face. Giggling, you drop your dress' hem back down.

"I think you broke him, [Y/n]," Kaku commented, walking up to you.

"He'll be fine. Whatcha need?" You turn to your other co-worker.

"New shipment came from the West Blue," Kaku informed you, leaning closer to add, "Devil Water Pose."

Devil Water Pose... Devil Wanted Poster...

Looks like another assignment has been added, which means your time at Water 7 is closing. Who knew Nico Robin would come here...

"Got it." You nod, keeping your smile. Kaku tips his hat and leaves to help other workers.

"What was that about?" Paulie asked, lighting up a cigar and raising a brow at you.

"Oh, Kaku just let me know about some supplies that just came in. I should go mark that." You spin away, finding it hard to face Paulie.

Paulie stares at your back, mildly puzzled. Something felt off, you don't leave in a hurry like that, especially in high heels. Maybe he's just overthinking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sigh, sitting at the bridge near Galley-La, clipboard in hand. Clicking the pen several times, trying to brush away writer's block, you stare at the paper underneath all the pages you stuff into the clip. If only you had more time to write this.

"What got you all bummed out?"

"Ah!" You flipped the papers down to hide the final page. Looking up, you see him. "Paulie, you scared me."

"Sorry," he apologized and leaned back against the railing of the bridge. "You gonna tell me what you were writing?"

"A love letter for you," you tease.

"Don't joke about that!"

You giggled, amused by his flustered state, until you looked back at the clipboard. Your mood goes back down. "I... I am writing a letter, I'm just not sure how to write it."

"Who's it for?" Paulie inquired, puffing out some smoke.

"...Someone I care about, I won't be able to see them for much longer."

"How come?"

"Work reasons," you answered, keeping it vague.

"Shame."

"Yup..." You stare at the water canal, biting back your tongue.

"Why don't you take the day off tomorrow to spend time with them?" Paulie asks.

"He'll be busy."

Paulie grumbles beside you. "What a chump, leaving soon and not bothering to spend time with you."

You giggle at the irony. "I don't blame him, Paulie. It's just how things are." You hear the man huff beside you before you continue. "Besides, he probably doesn't realize I care about him... I... I've been a little distant, you know."

"Shouldn't matter if you've been distant, it matters if he cares about you. Otherwise, you're just wasting your time." Paulie put out his cigar. You hum, acknowledging his words, even if your dilemma is different. A hand rests on your shoulder, you glance at Paulie. "If means anything, all of us at Galley-La care about you, [Y/n]."

"Thank you, Paulie." You wrap your arms around him, catching Paulie off guard. If things were different, maybe you would've given more than a hug. "Thank you for caring about me."

Paulie halts his emotions, sensing there's more to your story than you're telling him. He returns the hug, not understanding why it feels like you're saying goodbye.

And he won't know, until he reads your letter after you're gone.

Tags: @bookandyarndragon @roseoftrafalgar

[bitchimasnake-sss]

i had this idea for ace x reader id love to see😭 basically idk something along the lines of the reader being apart of the whitebeard pirates and ace having a crush on them/pining for them and they stop at some island to chill/celebrate or something and while partying later in the night reader tells ace he can kiss them if he catches them and after a bit of (playful) runing reader goes into the water at some beach and ace obviously cant follow bc of his devil fruit and yesh djdjjdhd idk how it would play out but lets say ace somehow ends up getting that kiss :3 you’re very much free to add to the story or change it!!

heheheh, this is so cute. i am an ACE TRUTHER FOR LIFE AAAAAAAH *rips my shirts and turns into a wolf* [i-ignore the fact that this has been a wip for about... 1.5 months now, im sorry. i will repent.]

❤️‍🔥hey! that's unfair! ft. portagas d. ace

set-up: as mentioned above by anon! playful banter, nicknames, chasing each other around. that's just part of being a crew, isn't it? okay, but what if your very attractive crewmate was running after you to kiss you? not very crew-mate-y of them, is it? warnings: NOT PROOFREAD CAUSE MY BAD, DUDE. nothing major cause i have wrote enough smut to last me a lifetime and i need a cleanse. contains playful banter/flirting, mentions of the asl brothers' past, "slut" as a joke. ace ughhh light me up. [my digital footprint goes crazy, but so does yours.] wc: 2.5k

"slut behaviour." your drawled out the words, nose scrunching up as you looked up at the man. your fingers drew patterns into the coarse sand, as the man above you barked out a laugh.

"huh?" ace's eyes widened, a boyish grin overtaking his features as the sun shone from behind him. the winds from the sea almost blew his hat off, and he put a hand on his head as he peered you down, "what did you say?"

"i'm just saying~" you shrugged, eyes squinted to make out his face under the harsh backlight, fingers still writing something into the sand.

"you're saying i'm the slut?" he plopped down next to you on the beach mat once he was done setting the beach umbrella. giving you the same unabashed grin, he popped his knuckles, "that's harsh, dude."

"i'm not the one walking around with my top off all the time!" you stuck your tongue out and ace scrunched his nose up. he was adorable. "hey, i've told you. i run hot, okay?"

he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively next, "i've always said, you can sleep with me and find out the truth."

an aggressive blush blossomed from the tip of your nose to your ears, and you instinctively pushed ace away, "is that offer only for me? or can marco uncover the truth, as well?"

his expression turned sour, eyes squinting as if he had the worst daydream a man has ever known, "tch, why would you even make me imagine that?"

"mhm." you grinned, shooing him with a flick of your nail, "now, go get me some ice-cream."

"mean." he muttered, but got up nonetheless.

you stared at the gentle waves, the scorching sun, the wet sand that changed with every little movement of the ocean. your eyes travelled to your far right where some of your crewmates drank cocktails and some of the younger ones ran around, chasing each other with faux grievances.

then, your gaze fell atop portagas d. ace.

pops ruffled his hair and the fire-fist grinned in return, talking about some nonsense that you were sure to enchant everyone who stood there. he had that effortless thing going on. he could smile and offer out his palm and the entire crew will chop off their hearts to give it to him. how pretty. i mean— er, how pretty fucking annoying!

huh?! a nauseating feeling built up in your stomach as you tried to shake down these thoughts. it was wrong, ace was just a crewmate!

a crewmate who made you laugh till you cried, someone who would come running to you with gossips, buy you souvenirs when he went to visit luffy. someone who was just a crewmate. so, you really shouldn't be thinking how he made your chest tighten or about the way his biceps flexed, or the way his eyes glinted under the sunlight or the way his smile was so—

"—here you go, princess." he shoved the orange popsicle in front of your nose and you broke out of your daze. he sat next to you under the cool shade of the beach umbrella, sucking on his own blue-colored popsicle.

"who're you calling princess?" you muttered before chomping down on the ice-lolly, "your shampoo for a year would cost half my salary if i got paid."

"mmph huh? you are so mean—" he spoke with the popsicle still in his mouth, and you flicked his forehead at how dumb he looked. he grinned and you made fun of how his pretty lips were painted a dull shade of blue.

the two of you sat there in the shade, occasionally looking over to where the crewmates played volleyball. it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to spend hours upon hours together. out of all the high ranking faction commanders, you two were the closest in age. he would often crash on your couch after a long day, and you would admire his annoying, freckled face. uh, no. what the fuck. knock it off. just a crewmate.

after a while, ace grew fidgety. fingers playing with the red beads of his necklace, mouth busy with the ice-cream stick, he asked you, "wanna play a game?"

"hm? sure." you slurped down the quickly melting ice-cream, "what is it?"

"it's called twenty questions." he balanced the small stick between his teeth, leaning back on his forearms. "luffy's navigator taught me the last time i visited them."

you hummed, "what do you do in that?"

"well, you ask twenty questions, genius." he laughed as you glared at him, and picked the ice-cream stick caught between his lips, "yeah, i figured that much out. i mean, that's it? just twenty questions."

"yeah." he nodded, eyeing the plucked wooden stick in your hands for a second before dragging his gaze up to yours. god, you were so pretty that some days ace wondered if he would go in overheating just by looking at you. probably not. but what if?

you flicked the stick away, turning towards him, "so, wanna play or what?"

turns out, ace is an absurd man. you found that out as you two were on your eighteenth question. the sun dipped below the horizon and the clouds reflected back myriad of shades, painting you and the man next to you in a thousand hues.

"huh?!" your eyes widened comically, words spluttering into a half-sob-half-laugh, "repeat that, please."

he nodded, repeating solemnly like he didn't hear himself, "i said if you had to fuck one warlord, who would it be?"

"jesus christ." your rubbed your temple, "i dunno, like mihawk? the emo thing kinda gets you going."

"tasteful choice, i agree. you think he's a vampire?" he brushed off the comment, shaking his head, "no, wait, we've seen him in the sunlight. wait, have we? anyways, your turn. ask away."

"well, i'll ask something normal." you hummed in deep thought before asking, "if you could have any devil fruit, which one would it be?"

"mine, obviously." he flashed you a cashmere smile, "somebody as hot as me must ofcourse have a hot power."

"you're cheesy as fuck," your lips puckered up as if you had something sour, "dumbass."

but marco called you both over to help set up the campfire. and so, you followed ace as you both got up to walk over to where the rest of the crew was. chatting, chugging bottles upon bottles of sake, and laughing about days long gone.

the sand got stuck between your toes, the wind blew your hair over and you could just watch awestruck as ace turned around, giving you a soft smile before tugging your wrist and running towards the crew.

"i'll fall!" you shrieked but followed him nonetheless. you would probably follow that man to the depths of hell, it seemed.

by the time you both were free, it was dark. the moon hung low, the sky lay exposed with millions of stars, the dying embers of the campfire still twinkling as ace sat down on a log next to you. the rest of the crew had either slept on each other or retired to their rooms, having drank down every inch of sake available.

"ugh," you groaned, "gotta restock in the next island."

ace laughed, and the sound was so soft. he sounded like a boy in a wrong reality, so young. "why are you so sad? didn't get any today?"

"as if i'd get any with those fuckers drowning anything that even barely resembled liquor." you grumbled, and the fiery boy could only stare at you for a second. taking in your barely illuminated form, the steady rise and fall of your chest, your eyes as you sighed and fluttered them shut, and your arms as you stretched them over your head.

you were adorable. and he was an idiot for fancying his own fucking crewmate.

he shook his head as if to gently pull himself away from staring at you too hard, and you turned to look at him strangely, "what?"

"n-nothing." the section commander muttered, choosing to look at the dying embers in front of him. blushing furiously, you chose to focus on the same welcome distraction.

you air grew thick with tension, the kind both of you got crushed under like bugs. so you cleared your throat, rubbing your palms together as you quipped up, "wanna finish that game?"

"yeah." ace mumbled, mindlessly copying your actions by running his palms against each other, "two more questions, right? you start."

mulling over his words for minute, you tipped your head back to gaze at the stars. you sighed, "if you weren't a pirate..." you paused, "then, what do you think, what kind of job would you have?"

he tipped his head back all the same, hand coming to rest a mere inches away from yours. the glowing charcoal casted a subtle glow against his toned chest, the metallic necklace shimmering against his skin. he finally spoke, "i don' know, really. just think i'll do everything to stay with my brothers. whether that's to become a thief, or to become a marine."

you slowly turned your face to look at the somber man next to you. portagas d. ace rarely got quiet. he was all high-spirits and boyish laughs, freckled nose scrunched up in mischief when he wasn't busy leading the whitebeards to victory. but whenever he got back from seeing luffy, there would be a certain gloom that clung onto his aching bones — the kind he tried to laugh away and hid behind bowls upon bowls of food.

you never understood why seeing his younger brother filled him to the brim with regret. after all, monkey d. luffy was all smiles and reckless punches, right? but one drunken night, he confessed to you about sabo. heavy words, forlorn eyes, a man racked up with guilt. no. a boy racked up with guilt over not being able to chase off death.

your fingers inched closer to his, and your pressed your soft palm against his hand. squeezing down slowly, you found yourself comforting the fire-fist without even as much as a single word.

now, the same man boy next to you cleared his throat, squeezing your soft hand right back. as he dragged his eyes from the night sky back to your face, he gave you an earnest smile, "but then, i would have never met you, and what a shame that would have been."

warmth blossomed from the tips of your fingers to the tip of your nose. what a bother. you huffed, trying to hide away anything that gave away your voracious heart, "you're so cheesy, ace."

"hah, only for you." he was all smiles. he snuck in a prolonged breath, "okay then... my turn, right? if you could join any other pirate crew which would it be?"

"aha, i know this!" you lit up, "your brother's."

"the strawhats?" ace looked genuinely surprised and you nodded, "i wanna see what kind of weirdo are you responsible for. up close."

"that's fair." he shrugged, "okay, last question. go."

"d- d'you think that some day..." you drawled on, fingers stilling against his warm skin, "that some day, we'd leave this place? retire, and do something else with our lives maybe. i don't know if i wanna still be running from marines when i'm all sagging skin and weak bones."

"do you wanna leave?" he asked softly, and you shook your head, "no. i love pops, obviously. but... like i said—"

"—you don't wanna be seventy and still with a bounty on your head?"

"maybe, yeah? if i live for that long, anyways."

"then, i suppose i would have no choice but to follow you. just promise me good food, and i'll come with." the man said it so easily, but he knew it with every inch of his heart. he would follow you to hell and back, if you ever let him.

"tch." you pulled your hand back to your chest, you palm still slightly warm from his body temperature, "what's gotten into you? stop flirting."

"okay, my last question. ready?" he spoke softly, gaze searching your face and studying the flush as you looked away from him.

portagas d. ace moved closer to you, his fingers gently taking your palm in his own slightly burnt ones, and interlocking them. he exhaled, eyes meeting yours, "if i kissed you right now, will you kill me? or will you kiss me back?"

what? your eyes instinctively moved to his pretty lips. soft, pink lips that you've daydreamed about too often in the past few days. should you lean in? or should you tease the man some more?

well, you've never been a saint, have you?

a smile tugged at your lips as you pulled at hand back to yourself again, "hm, i think i will kiss you back. but for that, you'd have to kiss me first."

and with that you took off.

"hUH?!" ace's voice shot up as you bolted away from him, and he chased after you without a second thought, "come back, oh my god."

the sand under you feet almost made you fall but you reached the sea before your crewmate could catch you. clothes growing heavy as they wetted, you moved inwards till you were submerged till your waist in the cold, oceanic water.

the water around you reflected the star-studded sky, and among them you looked like an ethereal being. divine.

"hey!" ace yelled, a small pout on his lips, "that's unfair! come back!"

you found yourself giggling, "why?" you pouted back, "come get your kiss, ace."

"ugh, aren't you troublesome?" he groaned but a grin broke out on his face as he walked towards where you stood, each step drawing you two close. when he stood barely a meter away, his feet wobbled, "if i faint, you're gonna have to carry me back princess style, understand?"

"why? marco will save you, princess. hey, don't fall!" you teased, but ace wobbled again and the smile on your lips shriveled up into a frown. you found your feet moving to him. fighting the push of waves, you reached the man and supported his figure. hands on his toned torso, eyes staring up at him, concerned. "are you okay?"

he wrapped his strong arms against you and grinned like the devil itself. you found the muscles flexing against your wet clothes, gaze trained as he stared you down. what an asshole. he was pretending.

you glared at portagas d. ace, "you cheated."

"no, i didn't." his face titled downwards expectantly, hot breath fanning your nose, "i just tried to get what was rightfully mine."

"and what's that?" you whispered up at him.

"this." his finger lifted your chin up and he pressed a soft, chaste kiss. his lips slotted against your, soft lips dancing against yours so gently. but then his grip on your chin tightened, and he pressed himself against you heavier.

hand tightening against your waist, chest flush against his and tongue passing your pretty lips. as ace pulled back, he smiled to himself. closed eyes, parted kiss-bitten lips and flushed nose and cheeks. what kind of forbidden alchemy were you? and how did he get so lucky?

"huh," you opened your eyes to catch his smile, "looks like you really do run warm."

and turns out he's not "just a crewmate" either. a day full of discoveries, it seems!

credits: @bucciniexe for the bby boy header! tagging: @help-i-lost-my-sock [i hope you genuinely like it!]; @chrollohearttags [ur tags on one of my ace fics were so funny, i had to tag you]; @tetsuskei [you told me ages ago to tag you in ace fics aaah :')] a/n: DROPPING TWO FICS IN TWO DAYS?! WHO AM I?1 omg i had so much fun writing this. don't tell anybody this, but i feel maybe my writing's block is slowly going away. yay! maybe i can upload consistently? who knows? anyways, ace has become one of my favs since i saw his greasy ass in alabasta and declared he's to be the father of my children [he's a 2d man, help].

[justwinginglife]

What Lies After?

Y'all, spoilers- it's a depressing one and I'm so sorry in advance. I promise I'll post something more wholesome later.

You're dying.

You're dying and Soshiro can't do a damn thing about it.

Amidst the chaos of people pulling each other from the rubble, medics running to and fro, and other soldiers groaning in pain as they writhe in the dirt waiting to see if death or the medics will claim them first, he can still hear the situation you're facing a couple feet away from him (in fact, it's the only thing he can hear at this point). You're never far away from him, he would never allow it. He doesn't know what it's like to not be by your side. But he can't reach you. He's badly injured himself and though he gave crawling a good, hard attempt, his bruised, bleeding organs won't allow him to get any closer to you though he's already pleaded and begged them to. He'd plead to anyone who'd hear him, who'd save you. The doctors, the gods, the devil himself.

The sound of the defibrillator thumping at your lifeless body is deafening to him. He can hear his own heartbeat vying for attention as it thunders in his ears and he wishes it would shut up and let him join you.

He wipes blood from his eyes, as it's started to drip down his forehead, he's desperate to see you better. Even if the color has drained from your face he still thinks you're the most beautiful thing ever placed on this Earth. His weak eyes widen slightly, as much as they have the energy to, as he sees the doctors starting to pull away from you. He sees the resigned looks on their faces, though muddled by his own tears, and he thinks he might just choke on his own lungs when he finally brings himself to look at the unforgiving, unbudging line of what was your heartbeat flattened against the cold screen of the monitor.

He stops looking at you. You're not there anymore. He's got nothing left to look at, nothing left to look forward to.

He lays down flat again, pressing his back up against the dirt, and peering at the sky while he still can, his eyelids getting heavier with each aching breath. I'll be there soon, love, wait for me.

He thinks about your laugh. How you'd probably say something about how we shouldn't waste the chance to enjoy such a bright blue sky. How we have to seize the day. And then you'd seize his hand and take off running, laughing and laughing, the way you always do. The way you always did.

Why was the sky so damn blue today?? How dare it be a perfect, clear day when nothing about this day was perfect or clear?

You would've loved today. If you weren't... gone.

He'd always make fun of people who used euphemisms. Just be honest, and say they're dead if they're dead. None of this "kicked the bucket" or "gone to a better place" bullshit. They're dead. But he can't bring himself to think that about you. He settles on "gone to a better place." Darling, save me a spot up there, won't you?

He lifts his fingers weakly and waves at the sky and what is presumably heaven.

He's never thought about religion before, but now every torn, exhausted fiber of his being hopes to every god out there that there is a heaven and that you're waiting impatiently at the door for him, tapping your foot and rolling your eyes but still grinning nonetheless. "Welcome home, Soshiro." You'd say with open arms.

"He's crashing."

He wonders if God will let the two of you have that house that you'd always dreamed of. He's sure God could spare a house or two for the love of his life especially when you're such an angel. He's made up his mind that God definitely wouldn't be able to resist a cutie like you if you asked nicely.

"Get him under control now, I'm not losing another one, damnit!!"

He wonders if you're an angel now. You always did believe in angels. You always believed in everything good and pure and wonderful like the saint you were. He smiles at the thought of you with a little glowing halo above your head and a white flowing gown. He'd kill to see you again. He'd die to see you again.

"Vice Captain, don't you quit on us!"

He wants to quit. He will. He'll do it. He doesn't know who said that but it wasn't you so he doesn't much care. He misses you so much. He misses you. What he'd give to hold you again, to smell your hair- you thought he wouldn't noticed that you'd changed your shampoo recently but he did. He never got to tell you he liked the new shampoo. He never got to tell you a lot of things. His trembling fingers move towards his pocket where he knows the ring is sitting snug against his leg but he stops himself. He doesn't want to touch it. He can't take it, it might kill him if he thinks about whatever future you might've had together. It might kill him. He touches it.

Everything goes white. Your face is coming into view now. He can almost see you fully, your hair bouncing in the wind, your sparkling eyes gleaming at him, your full lips waiting to be reunited with his. Just a little longer baby, I'm coming.

"We've got a pulse! He's stabilizing. He's going to make it!"

No.

Fuck.

[cat3ch1sm]

💚~ hi!! this is my first fic in so long, im so sorry for disappearing for almost two months ... idk I've been at a loss for motivation for a while. happy new years i guess😭. but it's a story based off of @a-hazbin-reader recent headcanons about alastor (first hazbin hotel writing!! exciting !!) i happened to come across it and immediately saw a fic idea finally. all credits to them and the person who requested the original writing (hope they see this too lololol) !!! also yes my anime writings will also return so yayy im officially back!!

heads up this is super long it's like 15 pages cause ya girl got a little carried away 😅 i hope you all enjoy and reqs are open for all!

🌲❦(๑˙❥˙๑)~ mentions of violence , abuse, bit of blood, alcohol, language, lewd language a little bit at the start, fem!reader

alastor x fem!reader

"Angel. Are you able to draw absolutely anything else?"

The aforementioned spider demon stared straight at Charlie with his brow arched and a shit-eating smirk on his lips. Beside his face he haughtily held up a sheet of paper with one of four hands, a drawing depicting nothing other than a giant penis.

"Nope." He popped the "p."

The hotel residents and employees, including Angel, Husk, Vaggie, Nifty, you, and Alastor were doing Charlie's usual scheduled feel-good activity. The devil's daughter had given out paper and pencils, gathered everyone in a circle and told everyone to draw something that made them happy. And of course Angel Dust, lewd as always, had spent a frankly concerning amount of time drawing the member currently on display on his paper.

Everyone just stared at the drawing in silence. Examining it while Angel continued to hold it up with not an ounce of shame on his face.

"Why is it... anatomically correct?" you finally questioned, tilting your head and squinting at the piece.

Vaggie, sitting beside her girlfriend, let out an exasperated groan, looking from the drawing to Angel with undisguised revulsion. "Angel Dust. First you drew pills, then you drew a liquor bottle, and for the last three goddamn turns we've given you, you've drawn a dick. Come on. Are you even trying-"

"Whadd'ya mean?" Angel asked innocently. "Charlie said to draw somethin' that makes me happy. Dicks make me happy. And as a worker here, you shouldn't be judgin' me," the porn star added smugly, making Vaggie let out an impatient growl.

Business as usual in the Hazbin Hotel.

"Well, I mean, you can't really say he didn't try," Husk deadpanned in a gravelly voice. "I mean, look at the vein-"

Ding dong!

"Oh, wow, hey, someone's at the door!" You'd never seen anyone move as fast as Charlie in that moment, and Vaggie was in close pursuit. In a split second, Nifty's tiny frame was flying after them both.

"Someone's at the door!" Nifty repeated in a high-pitched voice.

"Right. While they're distracted, I need a damn dick- fuck. Drink," Husk snapped, rising from his place on the floor. Angel immediately started laughing while Husk wasted no time lighting into him. "Shut up. You and your fucking anatomically correct dick got into my head," you could hear Husk snarl while Angel's taunting laughs never ceased as they headed off to the bar.

With those two gone, it was just you sitting in the circle, blinking. "Right," you murmured, standing up and dusting yourself off.

"Well, my dear? What did you draw?" came the oh-so-familiar drone of the Radio Demon's voice from the corner of the room. You couldn't help the smile that spread across your lips at the sound of it, and glanced up to see Alastor standing with his trusty mic stand, beckoning you to come closer. Of course, you obliged.

You scoffed a little, smile turned slightly sarcastic. "Well... I was going to draw you, but Angel suddenly became the Picasso of Penises and I didn't get around to it."

Alastor laughed good-naturedly, wrapping an arm around your waist and planting a gentle kiss on your head. "Ah, always the sentimental one, aren't you, my dear? Well, no matter. It's the thought that counts."

Your smile turned genuine again at his gesture and Alastor noticed. "There's that smile, sweetheart. Now, if you'd just keep it on your face at all times without fail, we could be quite the formidable pair."

You kissed your teeth with mock exasperation and lightly shoved Alastor away. "Oh, here you go again. And I thought we were having a moment. Alastor, my face just cannot stay like yours for that long-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Charlie came rushing back into the room, her sudden entrance startling you a little. She made her way up to you and Alastor. "Hey, um, Y/N? There's a woman at the door who says she's looking for you. She seems really upset."

Your face wrinkled in confusion. Someone looking for you? You weren't friends with anyone really outside the Hotel and those affiliated with it, so you had no clue who would be searching for you. You glanced at Charlie with a "What's going on?" look and with some reluctance pulled away from your boyfriend's grip to follow her.

As you neared the lobby, you heard a distressed-sounding voice in the door, and confusion growing you walked a little faster to the entrance. But before you could even register who the visitor was, she'd thrown her arms around you, fingernails digging painfully into your skin. But the stench of her familiar perfume wafting unwelcomed into your nose, into your mouth, smothering you and strangling you let you know the identity of this woman without even having to see her face.

You instantly stiffened, limbs suddenly like metal rods, not at all softening into her embrace. Your eyes went wide and you could feel your pulse speeding up.

"Mother?"

"My love! Oh, my precious girl!" she cried, pulling out of that suffocating hug for a moment to cup your cheeks in her cold hands, hands that no matter how gently they touched you their touch would always sting. She peered into your eyes with watery ones of her own, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I missed you so, my dear. This is where you've been hiding? I was so dreadfully worried!" Her eyes, always scrutinizing, ran up and down your figure in the way that made you want to tear the flesh from your bones.

"Oh, and I was worried you were starving somewhere. You were such a frail, skinny thing before on Earth. It's a great relief to see you've put some weight on your bones."

And the first stone was thrown.

"Mother." It was the only word you could seem to utter, fighting the urge to throw up, bile collecting in your throat. Her voice was like a slap to the face, and it was only your mother's grip that kept you from actually staggering backward. And how the others were just staring, awed, at the scene, Charlie's eyes sparkling with tears, Vaggie with a hand on her shoulder and a knowing smile, Angel and Husk watching contentedly from a distance, and Nifty clinging to Alastor who was smiling as usual. God, if you didn't vomit right fucking now, you'd be surprised. But you knew what they all saw in their clouded vision- a heartfelt reunion between mother and daughter. But really? It more closely resembled a predator at last capturing its prey.

You really couldn't hear what she was saying over the pounding in your head, but somehow you were in her arms again, and she was fawning and cooing over you like you were a child, showering you with kisses that burned like molten iron and rocking you back and forth. Always she loved to put on a show, loved being the center of attention.

It made you sick.

You managed to come out of your stupor long enough to shove your wailing mother away, unfazed by her crocodile tears. It was like waking up from a haze. She stumbled back slightly, and you backed away, your entire demeanor hardening. Your tone was flat when you spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

You apparently weren't doing that clean a job of masking your emotions, because the venom in your voice caught even you off guard. Your mother looked hurt- that act wasn't new to you, either- and your friends and partner surrounding you shot you disapproving and mildly disgusted looks that clearly wondered why you were being so cold to your own mother. You dropped your eyes to avoid the accusing stares, unable to slow your breathing and fighting the desire to lash out. Charlie looked bewildered and hurt, Angel Dust arched a brow, Husk appeared disapproving and Vaggie’s venomous expression said everything she wanted it to. How dare they look at you like you were the bad guy without knowing shit! She couldn't care less if you lived or died. She was here because she wanted something, and nothing more. Perhaps she heard about your role in the extermination of the Extermination and wanted a piece of the popularity you'd recently found yourself gaining. Or she came because she was probably destitute, the frivolous bitch, and wanted to suck up to either you or the powerful people you were now associated with. Whatever it was, you didn't care. You wanted her gone.

But it was clear she had no intention of leaving.

"All this time, and not one visit. And she never calls," your mother moaned in anguish, now addressing her new audience. "Perhaps I wouldn't have to track you down like a bloodhound if you would just come see your poor mother every once in a while." Her voice was overflowing with hurt and heartbreak you just could feel wasn't genuine. Before you knew it, she had broken down into sobs again, and you could only stand there stiffly, rage boiling, while the always empathetic Charlie moved to comfort the woman, rubbing her back soothingly while she sent Nifty off to get her tissues for her tears. The dirty look Vaggie shot you- "How cruel of you to do this to your innocent mother,” it said- sent heat rushing straight to your chest. Jesus fucking Christ, how could they fall for this shit? Your stomach twisted again, and this time you actually did nearly puke, suppressing a dry heave.

You did not pay any mind to your mother's display- you refused to give her the satisfaction. You turned in the opposite direction, arms folded, nails digging into your skin hard. You felt nothing seeing her cry but bitterness and icy detachment.

"I don't want to see you-"

"Well, now- who do we have here?"

Alastor appeared from the shadows with his sharp-toothed grin, glancing at you first and then your weeping mother. Before you could stifle it, a rush of hope surged through you- if anybody could get this infernal woman to leave, it would be Alastor. You turned towards him, hoping he would see how distressed you were- he was typically fairly perceptive when it came to you and your feelings. But alas, your mother caught his attention first, peering up at the Radio Demon standing over her with teary eyes and wet cheeks, a piteous expression on her face.

"The Radio Demon? Oh, well, a being like you mustn't worry about who I am. I'm just- a poor mother come to visit her daughter. But she... doesn't seem to want to see me." She sighed in a melancholy manner and slowly unburied her face from the tissue she'd been holding. "I suppose I will simply see myself out."

"Oh, nonsense. Y/N's mother, are you? I absolutely cannot allow you to remain on the streets. I insist that you stay." Alastor extended a hand out to your mother, his maniacal smile gone suspiciously gentle. It was disgustingly familiar; it was the smile he reserved normally just for you. "As... abrasive as your daughter may seem at the moment"- you felt him cast a look over at your back turned to him- "I'm sure she wouldn't want you suffering like this. Please, you're welcome to remain here."

You wanted to cry when he said this- could he really not see who this woman was? Did he really think you were just being testy? And when your mother took his hand and held it for much too long, you could take it no longer. And as everyone crowded your mother, showering her with welcomes and greetings and kindness, you pushed past everybody and walked straight out of the hotel doors, the last thing you saw being the tauntingly smug smirk on your mother's face before you slammed the doors behind you.

When you returned to the hotel, drunk, night had fallen. You hadn't seen any of your hotel mates since you'd left, and as far as you knew nobody went after you after your abrupt exit. Who the hell cared about that now, though? You'd talk to them about your deranged mother when you got inside, without her presence. Perhaps Alastor had just been being nice when he told her she could stay, and they hadn't actually been blind to why you were acting the way you were. Maybe they were just being supportive of a guest when they saw you acting out of the ordinary, knowing you usually were never snappy and stony, and still took her side. Maybe so.

You wished you hadn't had so much to drink.The pounding in your head was worse than when your mother had shown up earlier and your eyelids felt heavy. You had tripped a minimum of ten times on the way back and almost let two thugs take you in their car with them. You hated being drunk, but your mother you hated more.

With unsteady hands you pushed open the doors of the Hazbin Hotel, vision blurring a little. You weren't amazing with alcohol, and again, being drunk wasn't your favorite thing. But the moment you entered, you realized you weren't nearly drunk enough.

In the lobby sat your boyfriend, Alastor, enjoying a cup of tea with none other than your mother. The two were laughing together, which incensed you enough, but what made you wish you'd just blacked out at that bar was when you caught sight of your mother's hand on top of Alastor's as they shared a laugh over God knows what.

It didn't take long for the two to notice you in the doorway, a turbulent, unreadable expression on your face, standing as still as a statue as you took in the scene. Your mother turned to you and smiled, waving the hand with the cup of tea in it.

"Why, darling, we hadn't realized you left! Alastor is quite a charming gentleman. We were just having a moment." She slipped her hand from on top of his with a slightly mischievous smile.

Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing. You had no fucking clue how, but somehow your mother had discovered that Alastor and you were an item. She wasn't sitting here with anyone else but Alastor, drinking tea with him, laughing with him, holding his hand. And she was wearing makeup she hadn’t had on when she’d first come in the hotel- red painted on her lips, blush dotted on her cheeks and glitter on her eyelids in a display clearly meant to make an impression on Alastor and Alastor alone. It wouldn’t be the first time she'd gone after one of your partners, but it angered you no less- it was like the woman wanted to take your place somehow.

Alastor turned to you as well with a smile, but when he saw the look in your eyes, his brow furrowed ever so slightly. However, he made no comment at your slightly disheveled appearance and picked up his expression once more. 

“Why, hello, my dear. Your lovely mother was just telling me about her life before you,” Alastor enthused. “A lively woman she was! I’ve heard story after exciting story. Quite a wild one, indeed- rather unlike you, sweetheart.”

You gave Alastor what could only be described as what is called ‘the thousand-yard stare,’ expression flat, not knowing really what to say to that. Despite the fact that you were in a bit of a daze still, either from the alcohol or the fact that your mother was on a date with your boyfriend, the haughty, self-superior expression on your mother’s face was not lost on you. Nor were the cow eyes she was giving him, or how when Alastor reached for the teapot to refill his cup her hand was conveniently already on the dish, lingering beneath his for what felt like hours.

She turned to Alastor, looking up at him with that sickly sweet, beaming grin of hers that she always plastered on her face when she was really about to lay it on. “I’m still wild if you ever care to find out,” she purred, batting her lashes at Alastor with an unmistakable air of seduction. 

Before you could even register it, you heard yourself saying, “Get out.”

Both your mother and Alastor turned to face you, your mother’s face having dropped and Alastor’s eyes piercing into yours. 

“What?” your mother asked, looking at you with wide, glassy eyes. You truly saw red for a moment, knowing damn well those tears were as false as Angel’s lashes, and the twitching in your muscles to just lash out was almost painfully difficult to stifle. Alastor’s smile wavered a little as his eyes darted from you to your blubbering mother, who had already started her shit.

You advanced forward, your stride making your mother jump and Alastor stand, and without hesitation tore her hand from Alastor’s, yanking her arm with force that momentarily startled even you. She was pulled from her chair and forced to stand up. 

Her voice full of anguish, she pleaded, “Baby girl, what did I do wrong?” However, unmoved by her over-the-top performance, you’d already started dragging her out, not bothering to respond to her or explain why you were throwing her out. She already knew; you could see past the tears and wails and her struggles to pull away from you. Fueled by fury, distress and the afterbuzz of the alcohol, you hauled your protesting mother out of the hotel, pitilessly leaving her outside in the dark, and forcefully slammed the doors behind her. There were muffled screams of your name coming from the other side, her fists pounding on the door, but after a bit they faded away.

The moment she was gone you instantly felt as if a weight had been lifted off of your chest, slumping against the door with a breath of exertion and relief. But that relief quickly dissipated when you locked eyes with Alastor, who was advancing on you, his smile obviously strained. The way he spat your name at you made you shrink back slightly, realizing that he was actually not pleased.

“You cannot just throw your own mother out like that. Into the streets? My dear, that is no way to treat your mother. And frankly, it’s rude.”

You felt anger rising once more, but you didn’t want to start anything with Alastor despite the fact that he had no idea what he was talking about. Of course it looked simply like bad etiquette from his standpoint; he had no idea who your mother was. And somehow you didn’t feel it was proper to tell him- you knew how much he valued his own mother and mothers in general, and as sweet as you had always thought that was, you knew he and his rosy view of maternal relationships wouldn’t understand and perhaps not allow for your turbulent relationship with your own mother. And you didn’t want to be the one to tarnish his otherwise endearing perspective by explaining how abhorrent of a person your mother was. So despite how much you just wanted to scream at him, to tell him he had no clue what was really going on, you kept your composure, inhaling shakily.

“Alastor, please. You- you don’t know what you’re talking about. So just stay out of it, alright?”

“She’s your mother, not the devil, dear.” Alastor’s tone was back to normal, and he was speaking in his usual radio voice as if he was talking to just anyone, and it made your stomach churn. 

“She’s not innocent, Alastor, she’s in Hell-”

“Ah, but so are you and I, sweetheart.”

Your face crumpled, and you found yourself coming up short for a rebuttal. Before you could stop them, tears started to well in your eyes, frustrated that you couldn’t get through to him. Out of spite and pride, you blinked them back harshly. Alastor tilted his head and started to come towards you, his mic stand clacking on the ground as he walked, and for a moment you felt a glimmer of hope, thinking that he truly wanted to talk and get to the bottom of your animosity towards your mother. 

But the Radio Demon breezed right past you and, before you could stop him, opened the door, and your mother whom you’d thought had given up at last and left waltzed right back in, suddenly no longer the aggrieved mother you’d thrown out and back to beaming a mile a minute. The self-assured smirk she sent your way had your blood boiling with rage, and you felt powerless to act. You wanted to slap that smirk off of her face, but why wouldn’t she smirk? She had Alastor exactly where she wanted him, and both of you knew it. 

“I apologize sincerely for the earlier… incident,” Alastor told your mother with a note olf sympathy in his voice, and again he took her hand; you had to tear your eyes away, back to the scene.

“Aren’t you charming!” your mother exclaimed, voice pleasant and upbeat. ‘Don’t even think of it, I’ve already forgotten.”

“You’re too kind, miss. But in order to make up for it, I’d like to offer you to spend the night. I would hate to send a lovely woman such as yourself out on the streets of Hell after sundown. I implore you.”

Fucking Christ. You didn’t even have to see her to know the way she was grinning at you. Your shoulders tensed, rising to your ears, and the tears burned hot in your eyes. Not wanting to give her the satisfaction, you bit your inner cheek hard enough to draw blood so as to not make the slightest sound alerting her to your tears.

“What a kind invitation. It’s nice to know at least somebody wants me here.” An icy silence from you. “It’d be rather rude not to accept; I would be happy to spend the night.”

“Lovely!” Alastor praised. 

You couldn’t take any more. Unable to stifle your sobs, hot tears falling down your cheeks, you tossed back a cracked “I’m going to bed,” and stormed out of the lobby with your head down, rushing upstairs as fast as you could and ignoring Alastor’s calls of your name. Just as you slammed the door to your room, you heard your mother say, “Oh, don’t worry about her. Let her cool off for a bit, and then I’ll go after her. A mother always knows how to cheer up her child.”

It was quiet now. Hours ago Angel Dust had returned from his work and Charlie and Vaggie had locked up for the night. Nifty had been, though with much effort, put to bed by Husk who had then closed up the bar and retired himself. You didn’t know where your mother or Alastor were, and you didn’t want to. 

You were the only one up now, and you had finally run out of tears. Your head was stuffy, your eyes were sore and bloodshot, and you could feel the beginnings of a hangover coming on. It felt like days you’d spent just crying in your bed, unable to suppress the emotion you’d felt since your mother reappeared that morning. Charlie had actually come to check on you earlier, worried, along with Vaggie, but Alastor had told them to let you be for now. You’d heard their muffled conversation from outside your door.

You just wished Alastor would understand, that they all would understand. Your mother wasn’t a mother. She didn’t nurture, she didn’t love, all she did was belittle you, bully you, and take from you. Yet never once had you been able to figure out what you’d ever done to her. You had tried so hard to help and to please her as a living child, then teenager, then adult- tending to your siblings when she was out on the town, working multiple jobs to take care of the house while she spent the day blackout drunk and the nights in the city, and still desperately believing she would change, you sent her portions of your salary when you grew older and begged her to utilize the money, but she always blew it on material shit. And as if it wasn’t enough that you had to be the mother to yourself and your siblings, she beat you too, mostly when she was drunk but sometimes you felt it was just for her amusement or to make you feel small and worthless. As a teenager she did nothing but sabotage you- you couldn’t ever have friends over because she was always passed out on the couch or acting erratic and stinking of cheap liquor, and you had to fight like hell to get your siblings out of there after you left home for school. And yet you had still had hope for her.

That all changed when you came to Hell. It was the end of the road for real now, and you figured there was no point trying to reconcile with your mother anymore. So you’d left her in the past, thinking it was over, finally allowing yourself a little peace. But you hadn’t realized the extent of the resent you’d been harboring until she showed up at the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel. All those feelings just came rushing back.

Another hour or so passed and your swollen eyes were dried out and heavy-lidded. Exhausted from fretting about your mother and regretting the amount you'd had to drink, you turned over in your bed with a stifled groan and closed your eyes, hoping that sleep would finally find you and you could escape the events of the day at least for a little while. But just as you were drifting off, you were startled by the sound of your bedroom door opening.

You let out a moan that was half confusion and half sleepiness, and rolled over just a little to glance at the door through hazy eyes. “Alastor?” you mumbled questioningly, rubbing your eyes groggily.

But the voice that responded woke you right up.

“Not a chance, pet.”

You sat up instantly, knocking the bedcovers off. In the doorway, a shadowy silhouette in the dimly lit hallway, was your mother. A discordant note of exasperation sounded in your head; the woman couldn't let you be even at this hour? For the moment at least, you were more mildly annoyed than pissed like you were earlier, just wondering what in the hell she could possibly want now.

“Why are you even-”

You cut yourself off and immediately jumped out of the bed just as your mother lunged at you like a pouncing tigress; you'd sensed the attack in the way she had been moving and acted accordingly before she could maul you. It didn't mean it didn't still catch you off guard, though.

Your voice rising, you snapped, “What the hell are you-”

Again you were interrupted when she sprung off the bed and snatched your wrists in her iron grip before you could dodge again; her clasp was tight and bruising and you winced painfully. You caught a glimpse of her eyes in the faint light, and they were inflamed, wild with fury she'd probably been suppressing this whole time. It wasn't a new expression.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she snarled, voice trembling with fury. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you demanded, tearing your wrists from her grasp and moving a distance away from her so she was on one side of the bed and you were on the other. By the bewildered look on her face, she was clearly not expecting you to break away so effortlessly; maybe thinking she could just abuse you like she did when you were a defenseless child.

Like hell.

“What the hell are you even mad at me for?”

Your mother, seething, launched more accusations at you. “You think you're better than me, now, is it? Saw your sorry ass on the news after that damn Extermination rebellion. Bet it took your ego up a few notches killing those Exorcists, huh? And now that you're in some fancy hotel, dating some powerful boytoy and hiding behind hell's princess, you think you can just get rid of me?”

“Apparently fucking not, because here you are. And I'm not hiding. I'm trying to get away from you.”

Your mother let out a bitter, droll laugh. “Oh, you think that's how this works?” she hissed in an icy manner, and even though you were already a good distance away you backed up further still. “Think again, whore. I'm the one who deserves to be here, not some ungrateful little cunt who just happened to fall out of me. If I have to live destitute in the back alleys of Hell, so do you.”

The heartless insults and vulgarities she hurled your way would have shattered the living version of you. But it was about time your mother learned that you were no longer the pleading daughter you’d been on Earth, and instead of piercing your heart the names merely bounced off of you.

“You might recall I spent my whole damn life trying to help you,” you answered with equal coldness. “And for nothing, too, because here the hell we both are. Don't blame me because you turned out to be the nothing you always were.”

Without warning, she lunged at you, rushing forward like a charging bull, and though you tried to dodge she managed to snatch a handful of your hair and slam your head into the wall. You let out a cry of shock and pain and spots exploded in front of your vision before you reached up, tore her hand from your head and shoved her forward. You advanced again, teeth bared and fists balled, unwilling to let her get up- but before you could swing, there was a crackle in the air- and what followed was a cacophony of static, crackling, and microphone feedback that would've deafened an elephant. But the sound wasn't new to you, and you weren't surprised in the least when you lifted your eyes to see Alastor, smile maniacal and glowing red eyes wild as he entered the room. The sudden explosion of sound made your mother flinch and clap her hands over her ears, and seeing your opening, you kicked her to the ground; her head hit the wall rather roughly and she lost consciousness, her body going limp. You were breathing heavily, staring at her body sprawled on the ground without pity.

Alastor's eyes lost their luminescence and his smile softened; and he came over to you, attempting to touch you, but you shied away. You weren't necessarily ready to forgive him; if he'd just done a little more pushing and hadn't invited your mother here with you, this could have been avoided. You dropped your eyes to the floor.

“I'm sorry, my dear,” Alastor offered in a voice that was sufficiently staticky. “I wasn't too kind to you today.”

You wanted to say, no shit, but held your tongue, back to him still. Feelings of resent still swirled within you, but admittedly, hearing his apology did make them dissipate a little.

“Why is it you didn't simply tell me she was like this?”

Now you were silent not out of spite but more because…you simply didn't know what to say? Where were you to even begin? How would you explain that you didn't want to somehow tarnish his view of mothers by explaining your history with your own? And that you didn't want him to feel guilty about having a good relationship with his mother while yours was knocked out on the floor in front of you? And that you didn't want him to lose his love of mothers because you were unfortunate enough to have a shitty one? 

Somehow you managed to splutter all of that into something coherent, because Alastor gathered you in his arms without waiting for your approval, which you didn't mind, finally feeling somewhat okay since your mother had first shown up. You felt his hands in your hair, taming the out of place strands, and he lifted your wrists to his eyes, tutting in disapproval when he saw the bruises beginning to form. He settled for wordlessly kissing the deepening marks gently, but when he spotted the gash on your head where your mother had slammed you into the wall, his smile turned positively venomous. His head did a full 180 on his neck, which always made you cringe, to glare at your groggily awakening mother, who froze in her position on the floor when she caught his alarming gaze.

Alastor turned back to you, static popping in the air, and his smile grew- if that was even possible. “Well, sweetheart? What would you like me to do with her?”

You were frankly tired now of fighting your mother, who had staggered from the ground, rage still evident in her visage but with Alastor present she wasn’t about to act. So with a weary sigh, slumping into Alastor’s chest, you muttered, “I just want her gone.”

“Anything you wish.” And within the next few minutes, Alastor had summoned Nifty, who was more than eager to take out the trash, and had the tiny janitor drag your mother from your room by her hair. You lost sight of the two after they left, but by the way Nifty was giggling the entire time she was hauling your mother, you had a feeling the next several hours wouldn’t be too enjoyable for her.

You’d been on edge the whole day, but you didn’t quite realize the sheer amount of tension your mother’s presence had placed on you until it was only you and Alastor inside the room. His hand traced soothing circles around your back, and you finally felt like you could breathe.

The morning, after what seemed like centuries, finally did arrive. You were already up although day had barely broken, and that was because the earlier commotion had disturbed the hotel residents and they had literally gotten you and Alastor (who had evidently felt bad enough to spend the rest of the night with you, which he didn’t often do for posterity reasons, kissing the side of your head where it was wounded and apologizing once more) up out of bed to barrage you both with an onslaught of questions (and Nifty remaining suspiciously silent save the occasional maniacal giggle). With some reluctance you gave the group a brief explanation of everything that had gone down, Alastor standing beside you with a protective hand on your shoulder. Long story short, everyone basically grasped that they’d fucked up by allowing your mother in and judging you harshly about it, and before long Charlie was in tears and begging for you to forgive her, Vaggie had admitted her remorse over it, Angel Dust was shifty-eyed and sheepish, and Husk apologized to you formally. You dismissed the apologies with a grateful look, and that seemed to satisfy them all except Charlie, who you had to tell straight out you truly did forgive her at least five times and that only set her off bawling again to the point Vaggie had to carry the girl out.

Alastor, although one couldn’t tell by his face, apparently did feel guilty about his involvement in the whole fiasco because he took you out for breakfast and spent the rest of the day with you, and by the time night fell once more your cheeks hurt from smiling so much and your spirits were significantly lifted. It wasn’t until the two of you were in bed together (again, your lucky day, you didn’t even have to convince him) that he broke the long, contented silence you two had been sharing to inform you curtly:

“You didn’t ruin my opinion of mothers, you know.”

You sat up at this, eyes wide with hope and relief. He rose along with you to meet your gaze.

“I didn’t?”

“Oh, no. My dear, I love my own mother dearly, but don’t think I’m not aware that others may not have the same relationship with their own mothers. I did admire your resilience, though, and though it really wasn’t necessary, I do appreciate your attempt to spare my feelings. If I do say so myself”- his hand came to rest on your lower belly- “you seem like you’d make quite a stellar mother yourself.”

“Alastor.”

“Merely a thought.”

[nayomi247]

okay okay that uh ideal partner headcannon post with lucifer where you said he would fall for you over your smile got me REELING. Can you do some headcannons (maybe a little story if your so kind o great one) about a reader who doesn't smile/laugh very often and one day Lucifer sees them just totally let loose; like maybe they see an old friend or they get super drunk or whatever, but basically they are nothing but smiles and giggles and Lucifer is 100% smitten.

You've Got A Smile That Could Light Up This Whole Town

A/N: THIS IS SO CUTE. Definitely one of my favorite requests that I've gotten. Writing Lucifer as a complete simp is my kryptonite. Thank you so much for the ask btw<3

Pairing: Lucifer/f!reader

Contents: Fluff, Pining, drunken confessions, alcohol, drinking, Lucifer being a simp

Work under the cut🤞🏻

You had never been much of a smiler. You weren't depressed of course, and you were a happy person, but you just.. didn't smile.

A lot of people had asked you if you had some sort of trauma, or even if you had something wrong with you. You never let it bother you though. You knew it wasn't necessarily 'normal' but you didn't care, you were happy with who you were.

Now, here in hell, not many people smile, for obvious reasons. It's easier to blend in now and not have to deal with constant questions. Though many people at the hotel you're staying at think it's a bit odd. They have one person who smiles constantly, and another that doesn't smile at all. They think it's best not to question it.

Though one person, Lucifer, thinks of it, or more specifically you, more than he probably should. He may be the devil, but he still smiles and what not.

You're sat at the bar, a drink in hand and chatting along with Husk. Angel sits beside you, also pitching in every once in a while. Nearby, Lucifer sits in the lobby mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

He looks up every once in a while, occasionally listening in to what you have to say or what the conversation topic is.

After a while, and an amount of drinks that you can't even count, you start to loosen up. A small smile here or there at a story Husk tells or a little giggle at Angel's jokes.

Lucifer decides he's had enough of whatever he was doing, making his way up to the bar and sits down on a stool beside you. He doesn't say much, only smiling a bit at your soft smiles or chuckling along with you.

As time goes on, your laughs get slightly louder and your smiles linger for longer. But after Husk tells what your drunken self thinks is the funniest story ever, you burst into laughter.

It takes everyone by surprise, seeing you, the person who never smiles turning red and shedding tears over a story.

Lucifer though, turns a deep shade of red at seeing you like this. You're smile is beautiful to him. He wishes he could see it all the time. If this is the way to get you to smile and laugh, then by God he'll drink with you every night.

You continue to laugh, almost on the floor as he stares in awe. Why don't you smile like this all the time? Are you insecure? If so, you shouldn't be.

Finally realizing that he's staring, like a creep, he quickly turns to Husk. He needs more alcohol in his system if he's gonna see you like this all night.

"Uh- Husk?" He stutters out and Husk looks over to him a bit confused, as well as Angel and you. He flushes a bit more at the sudden attention, but quickly composes himself.

"Can I get an um.. a- drink..please." He once again stutters. Get a grip Lucifer! "Sure.." Husk replies, almost as if to question him. "What kind?"

"Hm?" Lucifer asks, thinking he was already done with having to talk. "What kind of drink?" Husk says almost like it's obvious, which it kind of is.

"Ah, okay.. um, anything apple flavored...please." Husk nods and Lucifer pulls out his phone, trying to act like he isn't a complete mess just by hearing you laugh.

Meanwhile, you start a conversation with Angel, your laughs and snickers filling the room once more. Lucifer doesn't even pay attention to what's on his screen, instead he listens in to what you're talking about. He doesn't even really care what the topic is, just that he can hear you.

Husk hands him the finished drink and he downs it like a man who was deprived of water for days. Husk, a bit surprised, but used to seeing people this way, makes him another.

A similar cycle continues for a while, you laughing, Lucifer finishing his drink, and Husk making him a new one.

Eventually, Lucifer gets to the point where he can barely remember where he's at. The only things remaining on his mind are you and your sweet laugh.

Husk and Angel finally decide its time for bed, leaving the two of you alone, still sitting at the bar. You scoot a bit closer, changing to a chair that's beside him.

You notice the way he seems to be out of it. His eyes half lidded, mouth slack, and breathing labored. "You okay..?" You ask. Your thoughts are also all over the place. You probably won't even remember this interaction tomorrow.

He shakes his head and looks to you, blinking himself back to reality. "Y-yeah, I'm good." He laughs and takes yet another sip from the glass in front of him. You've been watching him subtly throughout the night, surprised he hasn't killed himself yet from the amount of alcohol he's consumed.

"I'm surprised you're still conscious." You chuckle, and he remembers why he started drinking in the first place. The light redness on his face from the alcohol burns darker. He chugs down the rest of what's in his glass.

"Uh- yeah.. haha. I have a pretty high tolerance with this stuff." He hiccups, his words slurring ever so slightly. "Y'know, being-" another hiccup "The king of Hell and all." He finished.

You giggle lightly, the liquor in your system making you feel fuzzy and light. He smiles at seeing that he was the one to get that reaction from you.

You both continue to talk for a while, well you do, he mostly just listens, only really focusing on your features; your eyes, hair, lips, anything he can.

Then, out of nowhere, "You're really pretty."

"What?" You ask, a bit flustered. "Where'd that come from?" You question, a small smile still on your lips as you tilt your head.

"I just-" hic "Think you're.. beautiful." He confesses. Your face flushes pink as you rack through your brain trying to find a response. "O-oh.. thank you!" You curse yourself for stuttering.

He leans forward, face only inches from yours. His face is red and his eyes are droopy. He looks like he's about to pass out. "And- your smile. Its gorgeous. It's-" hic "A shame you don't smile often. If every word I said could make you smile, or laugh, I'd never stop talking." He slurs.

"Lucifer, what are you on about?" You question with a bit of a nervous giggle. He smiles and brings a hand up to hold your cheek. You don't protest.

"I mean I like you. Like, really like you. I don't remember the last time I ever felt this way about someone other than Lilith." He smiles softly at you. "You could even say that, I love you."

You freeze and your brain short circuits. He.. loves you? The king of hell, loves... you? You can't wrap your head around it at all. Seeing how you react, Lucifer somewhat comes to his senses. "Shit. I- uhm." He pulls away from you and looks down to his dangling feet. "I probably shouldn't have came on that strong. I'm sorry. I understand if you don't wanna-" He's cut off by the feeling of your lips on his. His eyes widen in surprise, but his hand eventually finds it way back to its previous spot on your cheek and he pulls you in closer.

Once you pull away, he comes back to reality and he tries to speak, but fails to form a single word. You take it as an opportunity to talk instead. "I guess you could say that I love you too." You smile widely.

Lucifer just pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you and vowing to never let you hide that beautiful smile of yours ever again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm so glad I was finally able to get this out. It was a bit rushed at the end, and I'm not too haply with it but I figured this is the best it's gonna get so mind as well not fuss over it anymore.

Once again thank you so much for the request, and for anyone else that has sent any in I promise I'll start working on them and hopefully have one or two out by the end of this week.

Just a warning that I do have finals coming up, so as before I might not be as active with writing, but I'll try my best to do what I can. Sorry I was gone for so long!!

{Taglist}

@wonderlandangelsposts

[nicohischierz]

who's afraid of little old me?: nico x player!reader

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hischif you want to join the taglist let me know!!

you stalked the comments under your post, whilst you knew you shouldn't have paid any attention to what was being said, you couldn't help yourself as curiosity got the best of you.

negativity is something everyone would tell you not to pay attention to but it was hard to do so when it was everywhere. it was as if the fans were ready to attack you at any point.

they didn't understand the hard work you put in to make it to the NHL. the blood, sweat and tears that went into ensuring your place in a professional hockey league.

the comments made by fans who didn't appreciate your hiatus were something you expected but after years of enduring such unnecessary hate, their comments only fuelled your want to play better in the season to come.

after giving birth to your daughter, you readied yourself for world championship games and surprised everyone when your name appeared on the list.

your interview was like a record scratch at a party. the interviewers asked about the influx of negativity towards you and you replied "who's afraid of little old me?"

they laughed it off as a joke but in your mind, you knew they should be.

the news of yours and nico's relationship spread like wildfire amongst the hockey community. adding the birth of your child made people question whether you were on the team for your skill or convenience.

whilst both of you were happy to be open about your relationship, you couldn't help but wonder why your name was the only one being tarnished.

"schatz, i will tell all of them to stop what they are saying. they wouldn't be true fans if they think it is okay to bring one of us down," nico promised one night.

you turned to him and smiled, placing a kiss on his lips. "you don't have to worry. it's not anything new,"

not only was your relationship the talk of the summer, but once the season had started paul bisonette made it his life's mission to make snide remarks about you relationship.

the jokes piled up as you played game after game, until one day you couldn't take it anymore. you sat in your apartment, tears streaming down your face as another joke made its way around the internet.

the devils were playing the rangers and body's were being thrown throughout the whole game. whilst you were a person who wasn't afraid to lay a hit, you steered away from fights.

but as a player from the opposing team chirped in your ear every moment he could, you dropped the gloves landing punch after punch until the referees pulled you apart.

in your post-game interview, a reporter asked what prompted you to start the fight and you answered. "I was tame, I was gentle 'til the circus life made me mean. it was about time I reminded everyone why I'm here,"

yourusername

yourusername: who's afraid of little old me?

no matter what you did, it seemed that the media was out to get you. now people were questioning your abilities as a mother as you continued on with your career.

"nico you tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is? every article about the devils has mentioned me in some and you can stand here and tell me that they didn't do it to hurt me," you screamed.

you came back to the season, feistier than before. showing everyone just how disturbed they made you. starting fights whenever and raking up your penalty minutes.

the older guys in the league (sidney crosby, matt martin and brad marchand) had all expressed their concern for the way you were acting and staged an intervention.

during the all-star break, they cornered you in your home and interrogated you about your behaviour. "we know what it's like to have all this media attention so you don't have to fight this on your own," matt prompted

you shrugged his hands off your shoulder and stood up. "all of you can talk about your difficulties but you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me. i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all say?" you retorted, referring to your post-game interview where your frustrated tears were addressed by everyone.

as the season came to an end, the devils had clinched a playoff spot and you had been scratched the past five games. your behaviour had changed since your talk with sid, matt martin and brad but the three knew the media's words made a lasting impact on you.

so as the devils faced off against the penguins for the first round and reporters asked if you would play the way you have all season you replied, "I am the way I am because of the media. you all act afraid of me when this the a product of the belittling I received upon coming back,"

[piscesirko]

omg bella angst with a happy ending, they're good friends, reader likes him, there's rumours about bella with a girl, she's upset and keeping distance, bella trying to figure out what's wrong, something like this if possible?

ty for the request!!!! this is a little longer than i expected but who cares! enjoy some bellaaa:)

-hurt/comfort, bit of angst, pining, cliche confession lol, fem reader

it hurts you to ignore her this way.

she’s your friend.

best friend. for god knows how long.

and best friends are supposed to be there for each other. to help, and support, and care for one another when no one does. it's the principle — and you shouldn't want for more.

(you shouldn't want to hold her hand when you'd walk side by side. you shouldn't want to push the stranded curls off her forehead and stare deep into the umber of her eyes until everything dissipates and you're both left floating into this void; you shouldn't want to kiss him suddenly when he smiles. and you definitely shouldn't want to wake up beside him every morning and tell him that you love him.)

the thing is, they're normalized now. everyone does it when they know everything remains platonic. but you don't want to hurt yourself that way knowing he didn't feel the same. you couldn't bear the heartbreak.

so when you dawned upon that realization, or maybe when you've come to terms with the fact that the devil on your shoulder was right—that you're in love with him—you'd gone insane. your mind filled to the brim with possibilities of what might happen if you told him the truth. and each one increased the anxiety in your chest even more.

you tried to act like everything was okay. you acted normal around them . you talked like you used to. hung out like you used to. bella would hang an arm around your shoulders, rub her knuckle on your hair and laugh with you like you used to.

up until last week.

the picture of him with some girl on social media and articles. bella with a smile so bright it's familiar, and you realize that she’d only smile that way when she’s with you. and god, she’s laughing with a girl. a pretty girl; it's mind fucking to be hurt this way by just staring at an un consented image.

you drowned in unreasonable jealousy. because why should you be jealous if he's not yours? why should you be jealous in the first place? you fool yourself. you're only jealous because he didn't spend time with you, not because he was with some girl.

some girl.

some pretty girl.

and while you wallow in self-pity, you ignore them. for both your sakes. before you do something that could ruin everything.

bella does their nightly texts — hey! how are you? and you'd respond curtly than go on a long rant. obviously he'd wonder what's wrong, but he'd let it go on the first night.

hey, what's up?

hey can we talk?

hey i miss you :(

until three nights later when you flat out ignored her and it had gotten to the point she started texting your friends. and the same reason was used: you're busy. you're asleep. your phone died. you're out of town for work.

you're in love with her and got stupidly jealous at the sight of her someone else.

so it brings her here.

a week later, outside your door with nothing but questions formed from his confusion and frustration. bella knows you're by the door looking through the peephole by your shadow beneath the minuscule gap beneath the door. you see her sigh heavily, holding back an eyeroll.

"i know you're there, (y/n),"

"fuck," you whisper, standing back on your heels and let your hands fall and raise between your side and the doorknob.

"just— let me in, please? i just want to talk." you hear him sigh faintly. "please?"

you take a huge deep of breath, hand shaking as you twist the doorknob. you're first greeted by the cold air from the hallways, before your eyes land on bella’s hunched figure. covered solely in a pair of blue sweats and a white shirt, her chain hung on her neck.

"hey," he exhales, relieved. "thank god you're alive. thought someone might have kidnapped you and pushed you off a cliff.

you frown. "well, that's specific."

bella comes in when you step aside to make way. he removes his shoes, placing them beside the door as he wipes his feet on the mat. "i was worried." he says. "until i saw you hanging out with our friends while you were ignoring my texts."

it's amusing how quick her tone changed, almost as if she hadn't been worried in the first place as she quickly returns to being irritated by your ignorance. you shrug. "i- i was busy."

"busy with what?" despite the irritation, their voice remains soft, their patience speaking for them.

"work," you laugh a little, tone pitched as you hand waves in the air. "i was busy with work. and- and catching up with others. that's all." bella furrows his eyebrows. "sorry if i ignored your texts. i'm...i'm sorry."

"that's okay," he murmurs. "just wished you would have told me. i thought that i might have done something to make you mad. i was worried."

he's only saying that because he's my friend. best friend.

"sorry," you say again. "just got caught up with things,”

"yeah with partying," it's obvious that he's bitter. and somehow, it pisses you off that he's pissed off for being ghosted. "didn't even bother to invite me,"

you scoff, turning around. "why would i invite you if you're with some girl?"

it was a sarcastic remark, your mouth speaking before you could think. your voice meant to fool her into thinking that it meant nothing. but bella knows what's up—especially with the strain in your voice as you said the last word that was followed by a sardonic chuckle. her face falls, furrowing her eyebrows at you.

"what are you talking about?"

you clear your throat, scratching your forehead. "i dunno. it's social media bella. one day you're in a famous show and the next people with cameras follow you around."

bella frowns. "what?"

"come on," you spin around to face him again, laughing incredulously at him. "people saw you with a girl. who you've been with for the past week. so why would i invite you?"

"because i'm your friend!"

"you were with some girl!"

"that doesn't even make any sense!"

their voice raises, but not loud enough that it hurts your ears. your face wrinkles, throat swallowing your words that the only thing that leaves your mouth are defensive scoffs as your hand drops to your side, turning back around to walk somewhere. "you- you were busy."

"bullshit—hey!," bella pivots his way in front of you, blocking your way to your bedroom, hands on either side of the doorframe.

"don't lie to me, (y/n). look- if i did something that hurt you, or made you pull away from me, just tell me. please?"

she’s desperate now, affliction in her plea. a heavy rock rises to your throat, hands to a fist on your sides. bella’s eyebrows raise, leaning down slightly as if to encourage you to speak. confined with the difficulty to choose between the truth or not, and you sigh heavily.

"you did nothing, okay?" you shrug his hands off, your index finger picking at the skin beside your thumbnail. "everything's fine. it's my fault. "

"then talk to me," he adjures, his hands clueless as to where it should be. "please? if—if you want some space for whatever it is that happened, fine. just tell me, and i'll give you that space.”

her patience makes your heart ache, because you feel guilty for lying to the person so tolerant and understanding. you hear the desperation in her voice. loud and sad as it yearns for your truth to feed his clueless mind, worried of the wrong she didn't do. you look away from bella, at the wall where you trace its small bumps, and you huff.

"it was because of the girl,"

bella’s back straightens, his bottom lip jutting out slightly as his eyebrows return to its place. and suddenly he's perplexed. "oh. why?"

"i—"

"do you not want me to hang around her?" he asks. "are you jealous that i spent the week with her...?"

"no! no, i don't want to be telling you who you should hang out with. and no, why would i be jealous?" the white face paint's beneath the sink, and there's a red wig in your closet, 'cause you look like a fucking clown.

bella scoffs. "then what is it?"

"god, okay, maybe i was a little jealous," you quip, throwing your hands in the air. "maybe- maybe i got upset that my best friend's with another girl. but not because she's taking up his time, but because she's pretty! pretty enough that i'm jealous of you? no, but could be 'cause she is hot. but yes, i could be if i didn't like—“

you pause, your brain telling you you've been talking too much, because bella’s got her head ducked and eyebrows raised to listen. and if you looked closely, her lips are twitched up slightly in bemusement. you close your mouth, glaring at her.

"if you didn't like?" he smirks. "you like someone."

"no i don't."

"yes you do."

"what makes you say that?"

"you said it."

"like can mean anything. i mean, i like your mom because she's nice. i like you because you're my friend. like doesn't mean like like, because i like anyone. and liking anyone doesn't mean i like like them."

"what?"

"fuck!" there's a boulder in your throat, hard and prevents the air from slipping through. you don't find his amusement entertaining, and you're trying to swallow that rock down your throat while he's looking at you like that.

— all innocent and happy, eyes wide as they stare at you like, like you're important.

like they’re in love with you.

they’re not.

bella’s smile falls, noticing the tears at your waterline that makes your eyes all glossy.

"hey. what's wrong? is it something i said?"

"no," you push him aside, stepping into your room and sitting on the bed right in the middle. "it's not your fault. it's never been your fault," the heel of your palms are pressed against your eyes. you hear him shuffle until you feel him kneeling in front of you, gentle hands wrapping around your wrists.

"then what is it?"

you whimper. and when she tugs your hands off your eyes and replaces it with her own thumbs, letting your fat tears wet her calloused skin, it makes your heart hurt even more, with the fact that she’s so gentle and caring.

"i like you,"

three words. something he's heard before but not in the way that he thinks. "yeah, i know. i like you too."

"no, bel," you close your eyes, nails lightly scratching at the bracelet on his left wrist. "i like you."

there's a soft sigh that leaves them that begins the silence between the two of you. the way their hand stays on your face but weakens in the slightest; the way her eyes narrow in anxiousness as they waited for your confession. you mistake this his silence as disgust — that you'd liked your best friend as something more. and you wonder what would have happened if you told her that you loved her.

you didn't have to. because you spoke again. "i...love you."

it's what makes him fully remove his hands on your face, feeling the burn his touch left behind (or maybe it was just the sudden sweat on his palms). he sits down on the carpet, cross legged, a soft thump of denim to wool. bella breaks his eyes away from you to look at your knees in a quiet state of shock. his lips parted in the slightest.

"oh..."

"you know what," you sniffle, licking your lips as you stand up, wiping your tears with the side of your hand. "i'm just gonna go."

bella, who's still processing everything, looks up at you. "you live here."

"i didn't say i was gonna leave for good, dumbass—"

you're startled with the sudden feeling of her lips on yours, befuddled with her speed from sitting to standing. bella holds your face in his hands, flesh rough but touch gentle as he keeps you close to him. and your eyes are open, sense of touch heightened that you can feel every fibre of her as she pressed her mouth harder against yours that it renders your eyes shut and your hands on the softness of her hair.

his mouth opens to part yours, his breath fanning on your face and some into your mouth, his forehead resting against yours. bella’s thumbs drag across the dark circles beneath your eyes, his eyebrows furrowing before he lets out a chuckle.

"i'm sorry," they murmur. “i just kissed you,"

you open your eyes. "it's alright,"

your hand drags from his shoulder to his chest, watching as he slowly looks at you.

dark eyes bright with glee, a ring of doting arousal on the corner of their irises. bella angles your face back, neck straining slightly so they’d get a better view of you. "i like, well, i love you too."

they chuckle when a slow smile comes to your face. "really?"

"fuck yeah" he wrinkles his nose. "i've loved you since that first chemistry read"

before you respond, she kisses you again, a deep inhalation of your scent as her nose dig on your face. her lips are soft, cherry, hot and feverish when they move with yours and break in a soft click.

"you're amazing," she murmurs. "beautiful," a kiss, "smart," another, "unfathomably lovely," and a last. "i love you. that girl you saw? she's just a friend. she's nothing compared to you."

you shake your head, laughing. "christ in hell, bella."

"i love you," he repeats. "yeah? i'd post it on instagram or whatever. i love you."

"i get it—"

"i love you."

"i know," you kiss his nose. "i love you too."

[mono-dot-jpeg]

child! reader w/blade, yanqing, natasha, & gepard

summary; thoughts being thunk about cute scenarios with child! reader

genre/extra tags; fluff, blade is probably ooc, don't give blade a child, yanqing being a big brother, yanqing and reader gang up on jingyuan, natasha my beloved, gepard big brother arc, but gepard is an awkward big brother, whoops my hand slipped now there's angst (natasha's part), blade wants to punt a kid (/hj)

[gender neutral! reader] [child 7-9! reader] [platonic]

[warnings; implied for reader to be heavily sick often (natasha)]

a/n; *smacks my head* this baby holds loads of child!reader ideas, thanks to their family being the way their family is. good ol' trauma. you didn't pick any characters in particular other than just non-express crew characters. hope you enjoy

it's a fucking miracle that you're even standing next to this man. kafka just had to give you to him. luckily, blade is less violent than he looks. and luckily for you, you hold no fear.

"you look ugly like that." you point at him, your tiny finger inching a little too close to his eye. "why do you look like that?" kafka stifles a laugh as she watches from afar.

"i can't believe i want to punt a child." he mutters. "i don't know, why do you look like that?" he retaliates.

"look like what? ms. kafka says i'm cute!" your hand goes limp to rest on your lap.

"you are anything but cute, you devil spawn."

you gasped, "ms. kafka! blade is being mean!" you get up to run to the woman, who is laughing silently. "he called me a devil spawn... whatever that means!"

"it means you're tiny. and stupid." blade says, watching as you hide behind kafka's leg.

"no, you're stupid!" you stick your tongue out at him.

"you little sh-"

"curse jar!"

"yannie!" you cheered loudly.

"y/n!" he cheers back. you run to him as he picks you up. "do you want to walk around today?" you nodded. "let's go get some allowance from the general first!"

"jing!" you and yanqing arrive at the general's office.

"if it isn't our little cloud knight." jingyuan watches as the young blonde puts you down to go run at him. "i could only wonder what you are doing here with yanqing."

"i wan' to explore with yanqing!" you climb up jingyuan's legs as he watches with a fond gaze.

"is that so?"

you nodded, "but me 'n yan need help." jingyuan looks at you confused before turning to look at yanqing.

"we need some money, general..." jingyuan raises an eyebrow, glancing at you who shows him puppy eyes. and then yanqing tries to play off his ask with an innocent grin.

jingyuan can't help but sigh, "for a lieutenant and a little cloud knight, you two sure are sly." he smiles gently.

"you think we can annoy serval?" an impish grin starts to grow on your face.

"we really shouldn't do that." gepard chides you. you groan.

"but i'm so bored! she's got cool ga- gad-gets."

"gadgets."

"yeah! i wanna see them! i wanna watch serval work!"

"she's probably busy, y/n." you huffed as you struggled in gepard's arms, "stop it!"

"what can we do then?" you pouted. "what do you wanna do?"

awkward silence...

"my idea is better! let's go see big sis!" you tug on his clothes as if it would anything to make him move faster.

"how about we make something for serval? wouldn't that be fun?"

"hm? making something like a gad-gets?"

"gadget. yeah, maybe something like that. or we can draw something for her, and she can put it up somewhere."

"yeah, let's do that!" you cheered, walking alongside gepard and putting your hand in his.

it's no doubt that your parents would leave you in the care of the nicer-est nurse in town (your words, not hers). even if you were a not so amazing state, you can't help but still be happy.

"i think you're a superhero, ms. natasha. i wanna make a story about you!" you've always been a creative soul, it was one of the few things you can do with being bedridden for days on end. writing was a favorite. but you really liked making comics.

"i'm just doing my job, dear. i think you should make a story about yourself." natasha speaks with fondness as she distracts you from getting a shot. "you're just as strong as a hero." her voice is bittersweet but you don't notice it.

"how about i make a story about us? we can be the best-est heroes in the world!" you beamed at your own genius suggestion. "i can be your sidekick!"

"i would love to see that story someday." she smiles. "i know it will be amazing as always." she places a band aid where your shot was taken. her thumb brushes over it once, then again. "i'll even put it up by your bed. framed and everything."

she just hopes you live to see another day.

[ooffmlsorry]

Law Bends the Rules for You

A/N: This is my first time writing "Law x reader" or "x reader" in general. Takes place before Dressrosa. Oh! and have fun reading!

To a planner like Law, you had an invaluable devil fruit: the spy-spy fruit. The ability to touch any item and know everything about it instantly.

Moments ago, you had taken off one of your gloves and touched his hat. You were able to tell him what kind of animal it was made out of, who made it, from what store it came from, that it belonged to him and how long he'd had it. You were even able to tell him when he had modified the brim.

"If the item has been around a person long enough, I can even tell a little bit about them," you said, casually, even though your heart was pounding. Law could probably see the pulse throbbing in your neck. You came across pirates all the time but none from the Worst Generation. He was taller than you expected, handsomer, and more composed than his exploits at Sabaody Archipelago two years ago would've let on.

"I know this hat has been through a lot." You chose your next words carefully, "and it's owner has too."

Laws golden eyes flashed for a moment.

Something about that caused a flutter from your heart to your stomach. The wanted poster truly didn't do him justice.

"I-I'll help you. I'll join your crew," you stuttered. "Under two conditions."

Law smirked roguishly and raised an eyebrow. He remembered you saying you wouldn't make for a good pirate but from where Law was sitting he could see the makings of one already. Making a deal with him was bold.

"What makes you think I'll agree?" He rested his hand lazily on Kikoku, a wordless threat. His eyes drifted over your body back up to your face. "Or I could just make you, you don't look all that strong."

As much as that shouldn't have been hot it was, and that was almost as concerning as the implied threat in his words.

You rolled your eyes and looked away from him to hide the heat creeping up your face. "Why don't hear them before you say no," you snap.

Law scoffed, but his hand left Kikoku. He leaned his elbows on his thighs and laced his fingers together, ready to listen to you. "Out with it then, [Name]."

"Please don't make me wear one of those suits the rest of your crew has on," you said.

It was almost enough to make you burst out laughing the way Law's hands dropped as well as his jaw, eyes wide in a mix of shock and disturbance. You managed to stifle it just enough to continue. "I'll wear the insignia, make my own clothes if I have to, but I've spent enough time looking how someone else wanted me." You left it at that.

Law composed himself. Was it just your imagination or was he embarrassed you managed to catch him off guard. He cleared his throat and looked away from you. "Ridiculous, but fine," he said. "Is you're second just as stupid?"

You grinned. "Yeah," you said and carried on in the same breath without giving him time to interrupt. "You have to let me bring my cat!"

Law had no clue by agreeing to your conditions he was doomed to repeating himself on why Y/N got to wear whatever she wanted. Most of the time his answer included: "Because I said so" in true tired grump fashion.

A/N: welp, that's it. Hope you liked my first foray into writing "x reader." I guess stay tuned for more? Idk? I hope you have a good day <3

Part 2

[flowerprincesscherryblossom]

hate

pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader word count: 1712 warnings: smut, explicit language, hate sex, rough sex, face-fucking, degradation, oral sex, vaginal fingering, clothed sex AO3 A/N: request - hi! i absolutely love your writing!! if it’s okay with you, do you think you can write a short smut where y/n and jungkook are enemies but he happened to have a Polaroid in his wallet of her nudes (this is a thing apparently? HAHA, perhaps a drunken night that they don’t speak of..) Hope you like it and that you have a wonderful day wherever you are💜

If anyone asked you if you had any regrets ever since going to college, and if you were to answer truthfully, you'd have only one - Jeon Jungkook.

A little backstory: you and Jungkook met through your mutual friend Namjoon, a childhood friend of yours and basically Jungkook's male crush, and you had a problem almost immediately with him because he acted like a spoiled brat, which he was.

He always had a different girl on his arm, if not two or more, always acting as if he was the king of the campus just because he was good at everything. And all of his hyungs, Namjoon included, always let him have his way. You just found him so annoying.

And he liked to tease you a lot as well, something that got worse one the night of the party.

Two months ago at BTS frat house during one of the many parties they would throw you had made the mistake of getting pissed drunk, waking up the next morning in Jungkook's bed, both of you naked as the day you were born - despite the massive headache it didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.

Ever since then he started to annoy you even more. It was a miracle to have any time to yourself without him popping out out of nowhere. The most annoying part was that he kept teasing you about what had happened during that night which was something you didn't want to even remember. The only part that you willing force yourself to remember was both of you stumbling into the bedroom, full-on making out, and then waking up with one of his arms around you.

You didn't care about remembering the details - you fucked and that was something that you accepted and wanted to move on from.

Talking to your friends didn't help much, especially Namjoon. That bastard giant tree of a man, using his psychology minor to analyze the apparent feelings you had for Jungkook.

"Have you ever thought that maybe you're confusing hate with something else?" he asked while both of you were taking in the sunlight on the frat house's backyard after both of your classes had ended for the day.

"Of course I know it's hate. How dare you ask me if I'm aware of my feelings as if you'd know me better than I know myself!" you replied angrier than you probably should have but one look at your friend's face made you lean your head against his shoulder. "Still love you though."

"Aww thank you sweetheart, the feeling's mutual," Speak of the devil.

Just hearing the sound of his voice from behind you already had your blood boiling. "Didn't your mother ever taught you that eavesdropping is rude?"

"Didn't yours ever taught that you shouldn't lie to people?"

At Jungkook's comeback Namjoon sighed, already knowing what was about to happen and wondering why it was always him in the middle of this mess.

As you and Jungkook went back and forth with the bickering, mostly you, neither of you even noticed that Namjoon had gone back inside.

"Oh my God, why can't you just leave me alone?" you yelled, almost feeling the need to pull at your hair.

"Why can't you just admit that you liked what happened between us?"

You were quick to cover his mouth with your hand, hoping that nobody else had heard him. "That shouldn't ever happen in the first place, you hear me?"

Pulling your hand away from him Jungkook leaned closer to your ear. "You're that ashamed to admit that you liked being my dirty little slut?" your eyes widen at his words, embarrassed that they had an effect on you. "Want me to show you how much you loved it?"

Before you had a chance to respond he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to his room, closing the door once you were both inside.

Forcing you to take a seat on the bed Jungkook pulled a polaroid picture out of his wallet and showing it to you, the image making you want to jump out the window - it was you, full-blown naked on his bed, legs spread, hands cupping your breasts while giving the camera, and by extension Jungkook, your best fuck me eyes amidst licking your top lip.

"There's more where that came from," he said as you fixated on what was in front of your eyes. "They've helped me big time."

His implication pulled you out of the trance you were in. "You're a disgusting pig,"

"Maybe," he smirked widen. "But you didn't have a problem letting a disgusting pig fuck your brains out."

Falling into silence you and Jungkook simply stared at one another for what felt like hours before he made the move of smashing his lips against yours.

The shock you felt was quick to pass and you wasted no time reciprocating with the same force and hunger.

Pulling away from you Jungkook started fiddling with his belt. "On your knees slut."

You kneel before him, pulling his pants and underwear down, his hand moving to the back of your head as you stroked his length. Dragging your tongue from the base to his leaking tip, sucking on it before taking inch by inch from his thick girth.

His grip on your hair tightens as you bob your head up and down, your jaw and throat most likely sore from taking him so deeply. "Wonder what he'd think if he saw you on your knees for me?"

At his words, you pulled your mouth away and stared at him. "Mention Namjoon again and, I swear, I'll bite your fucking dick off."

With a scoff, Jungkook tighten the grip on your hair and forced his cock down your throat. As he thrusts into your mouth, practically impaling his cock, the tip repeatedly bumping against the back of your throat as tears stream down your face and saliva escaped out of the corners of your mouth, constantly gagging on his massive length.

"Such a good little cockslut," he grunts thrusting ferociously into your mouth and simultaneously guiding your head to meet his movements. "Letting me fuck her throat raw."

Hollowing your cheeks, as your tongue slides against the underside, you started rubbing your thighs and moaned around his length. "Pathetic whore, getting wet just from having me in your mouth," Jungkook's head falls back, eyes rolling as he loses himself in the sensation. "Oh fuck." A sudden hard thrust, making you gag and choke, he lets out a strained roar, spilling his cum inside you.

Pulling himself out he forces you to look at him. "Swallow." You visibly swallowed his load, sticking out your tongue to show him. "Good, now take off your panties and lay on the bed."

Doing as you are told, you throw your underwear in his face and then lay on the edge of the bed, spreading your legs.

"Fucking brat," he murmurs as he slides to his knees, spreading your thighs as wide as he could. "At least you were smart enough to wear a skirt."

"Go to hell," you said before a whimper escaped you as his fingers rubbed at your core before he licked a fat stripe from your hole to your clit.

"Funny of you to say that," Jungkook said before burying his face into your pussy, tongue swirling around your hole before moving up to your clit, making you arch your back.

As his lips wrap around your throbbing clit and start sucking on it, you gasp when he slides two fingers inside of you, pumping them with immense speed. "Fuck!" you moaned when he added a third finger, sending you over the edge.

Jungkook grunts as he feels your cunt squeeze around his fingers, his cock rock solid once again. "Shame I can't see your tits, the polaroids will have to do until next time,"

"Who said there was going to be a next time?" you said as you tried to catch your breath.

"That's exactly what you said last time," gripping the base of his length and giving himself a few pumps.

"Fuck you,"

"I'm getting to that," lining himself up, Jungkook slips inside you in one swift motion, burying himself to the hilt, you were so wet that he groaned out loud. "Holy shit."

Filling you up to the brim, stretching you beyond what you thought you could handle. "Just fuck me already."

"Needy slut," he tightly gripped your hips, pulling out until only the tip remained before slamming into you, thrusting into you without abandon. You whine and keen for him to continue, each snap of his hips bringing you closer and making your eyes roll back into your head.

"Look at yourself," one of his hands leaves its place to wrap around your throat, giving it a squeeze. "Begging for my cock like you weren't hating me not that long ago," the combination of his words and the squeeze on your throat causing your cunt to clench around his length. "Such a filthy fucking whore."

Continuing with his brutal pace Jungkook's hand descends from your neck to your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bundle.

"G-gonna cum," you cry feeling your body near the edge.

"Cum on my cock bitch." the unrelenting pace and the thumb rubbing your clit bring you to the end, a scream leaving your lips.

With how your cunt convulsed around his cock, coaxing and gripping him tight, it wasn't long before Jungkook released, splattering your walls with his cum.

Pulling out he lays down beside you, both of you working on catching your breaths.

Once you felt that your legs had stopped being jello you got up from your spot, put your panties back on, and made your way towards the door, just wanting to go home and take a nice, warm, and long shower.

"Until next time," Jungkook said still lying in bed and waving his hand.

"There's not going to be a next time,"

With a smirk on his lips and mischief in his eyes. "That's exactly what you said last time,"

"Go die!" you groaned slamming the door and quickly left the house, hoping your friend hadn't heard any of what transpired between you and Jungkook.

[sourw0lfs]

dance with the devil - part six

I've decided this will eventually be available on AO3, but I want to get through some major plots points for everyone following along here before I have to spoil them with AO3's tagging system.

Words: 525 | Rating: E (mostly parts 1 & 2, but also future parts) | CW: dead bodies, Eddie is having a bad time

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || part eleven || part twelve

Once the front door of the apartment closes, Eddie spends the first few minutes by himself just staring at it. He isn't sure exactly what he expected when Joyce gave him this assignment, but he's pretty sure what he got isn't even near the list. Having to help cover up a murder definitely isn't on the list. And now that he's done that, Eddie isn't even sure that's what he was supposed to do. The only instructions Joyce gave him before sending him on his way was take care of Steve Harrington. No details, no helpful hint or clues. Nothing but the world's vaguest instruction and a stern warning not to fuck it up.

Eddie's eyes wander to the body still in the middle of the floor and he grimaces slightly. "Guess it's just you and me, buddy," he tells the man as he pulls the fourth angelic miracle of the hour to cover up the murder even further. A pool of ochre colored vomit appears next to the body. Hopefully it's enough to throw off any suspicion of foul play, because it's all Eddie's got left. He's only even had the ability to do things like that for a handful of hours at this point. He probably shouldn't be testing their limit. Or cleaning blood off people with them, but what else was he supposed to do? He can't help a guy that gets slapped with a murder charge five minutes into his assignment.

Sighing and taking one last look around the apartment for anything he missed, Eddie finally lets himself go after Steve. There's a chance it's been long enough for him to have the breakdown he was clearly teetering on the edge of. Or maybe he's actually fine and Eddie's just assisted a psychopath or something. That'll look great on his soul's record. All it takes is a blink for him to find out.

And yeah, maybe he should stop with the magic for now, considering the dangerous wobble to his landing once he let's it guide him back to his charge. And maybe he should have made sure Steve was alone before teleporting to him, because a shrill, frantic female voice is the last thing he needs when his head is already kind of spinning. "Holy shit! Where did you come from?"

Blinking hard to clear his vision, Eddie looks in the direction of the voice. He sees Steve first, looking just as frazzled as he had when he’d stormed out before, but now there’s a girl, too. “You want the long answer or the short answer?” he asks, lips already spreading into a grin to hide his discomfort. “Because short is some guy’s apartment and long is, well, a long story.”

The girl looks at Eddie for a moment longer before glancing at Steve, seeming to have a full conversation with him with just their eyes, before they move back to Eddie again. “Long,” she replies with a smirk of her own. “And it better include how the hell you just popped up in my apartment out of nowhere.”

Grimacing, Eddie takes a deep breath and launches into his story.

Did a quick little Google about why some people might not be showing up, so if you're down below and your tag didn't work, check to see if your blog is searchable in your settings! If it's not, I can't tag you.

If you want added to the list, let me know!

tags: @chaosgremlinmunson @soaringornithopter @hbyrde36 @shares-a-vest @dreamwatch @quevadilla @tboyeddie @penny00dreadful @momotonescreaming @stevesbipanic @dawners @steddiejudas @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @estrellami-1 @vthx @lolawonsstuff @gleek4twd @littlebluejane @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lawrencebshaggoth @sadisticaltarts @queenie-ofthe-void @r0binscript @anaibis @hairdressersdoitwithstyle

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

On the Highway

18+ MINORS DNI because Eddie is a devil of a stripper.

"Oh my God, I can't believe we're doing this," Steve said.

"You wanted to know, didn't you?" Robin asked.

"Only because you pointed out that it's not exactly straight to check out everyone's butt," Steve said.

"Because it's not," Robin hissed.

Steve crossed his arms and slumped in his seat. They were both sitting in the far back of a male strip club in Indianapolis. Steve’s stomach was turning. He shouldn't be here. Oh. God. It was too late to leave, though. The show was staring, and the first of many acts came on. The music actually helped calm his nerves and focus on the performance. He had to admit that guy was a good dancer, but he was trying too hard muscle wise. He was definitely pretty, though, with exceptionally plump lips that Steve could definitely nibble on. . .okay, so maybe Robin was onto something. The performances were great, but they really didn't do a whole lot for him except make his stomach flutter. Although the previous act did make his cock twitch a little. It's wasn't until the very last act that Steve got his official confirmation.

"Introducing. . . SATAN'S SLUT. . .," the announcer introduced. "Really? Come on. Why am I friends with you? Oh, shit, I forgot to turn off the mic."

Highway to Hell by AC/DC started blasting from the speakers. A man with long dark curly hair burst forth from the curtains. He wore a long red cloak, a devil's mask, and black heels. Sliver rings glinted on his hands, his nails painted black. His hands went to his throat. Steve watched, enraptured as the man whipped off his cloak and threw it into the crowd. Oh, god, he was wearing a red thong, and his nipples were pierced. He also had tattoos. A weird looking old witch on his chest as well as a spider, bats on his arm, and some sort of puppet on a string on his forearm. His body was perfectly soft and pale. His long, skinny legs worked well with the black heels. Steve could imagine running his hands up those perfect legs, trailing up to cup his . . . Woah, his pants just got a little tighter.

The man started moving and dancing. He moved in a way that seemed physically impossible. Like a cat, he seemed like he was both a solid and liquid. He moved harshly against the pole, his hips thrusting in tandem with the song. Steve gulped, imagining his hands grasping the man's small hips as the man grinded against Steve. There was something familiar about the way the man moved, the way he moved his hands about. . .did Steve know this man? No, the world was small, but it wasn't that small. The man jumped around, his heels slapping into the floor as he turned his back to the crowd. He had a flaming sword tattoo on his back, slotting perfectly along his spine. The man peeled off his mask, held it out beside him, and dropped it. A woman was quick to grab it and slip some bills into the man's g string, letting her hands linger on the man. It caused the announcer to speak up.

"You get one warning, lady. Don't touch. Causing I'm telling you now this asshole bites and not in a kinky kind of way. As in, he'll break the skin and leave a permanent scar all because you ate his goddamn pretzels," the announcer said.

"Frankie!" The stripper yelled.

"Right, shutting up," Frankie said.

The stripper turned his head over his shoulder to give the crowd his best come hither look. Steve’s heart jolted in his chest. Oh, shit. The man he's been lusting after was none other than Eddie Munson. His brown eyes popped under the dark eyeshadow that he had painted across his eyelids. How had he not noticed how beautiful his eyes were?

"Yeah, I'm definitely a lesbian," Robin said, her hand over her eyes.

"And I - I am definitely not straight," Steve said. "I got to take a piss."

When Steve came back to their table, Robin gave him a look of disbelief.

"I know what you did in there," Robin said. "Gross."

"You mean, use the restroom?" Steve scoffed, blushing.

"You've got jizz on your pants, by the way," she said.

"Shit, I thought I was careful!" Steve said, looking down. "Oh, fuck you."

"Made you look! You totally did it, and the guy with devil mask? Really?" Robin asked. "Let's go so we can go back to your house so we can properly judge your taste in men."

The ride back to Hawkins was silent except for the radio playing in the background. They quickly settled into the living room.

"You didn't see his face, did you?" Steve asked.

"No, I was too busy drifting off into La La Land," Robin said.

"Robin! It was Eddie Munson!" Steve exclaimed.

"Oh, shit. As in leader of Hellfire, co-parent to your little boy genius?" Robin asked. "This is perfect! You guys already have kids together."

"Robin, we don't even know if he likes men," Steve said.

"Now, you understand my dilemma," she cackled.

"Yes, please revel in my misery," Steve said.

"That's what good friends do, Steve," Robin said. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously?"

"Yep!"

Steve was true to his word and did nothing about his attraction to Eddie Munson until spring break happened. He slowly started to get to know him in the middle of all hell breaking lose and he liked what he learned so far. He had no choice but to interact with him, and he really liked him. . .like really liked him. He had to do something about it now before it was too late.

The RV was parked in an open field, and everyone was outside, enjoying the sunlight before the big fight with Vecna. Steve discreetly watched Eddie slip inside the RV and waited a moment before following. Eddie had taken off his jacket and pulled his hair into a messy bun while he drank a bottle of water. Steve watched for a moment, blushing. Eddie capped the bottle and flashed him a dimpled smile.

"Hey, big boy."

Steve immediately tried to ignore the way that nickname made his stomach flutter.

"Can we talk?" Steve asked.

"Sure thing," Eddie said.

Eddie plopped on the couch and patted the seat next to him. Steve grinned and sat down next to Eddie.

"So, confession time. A few months ago, I came to realization about myself. Actually, Robin helped me with that. I wasn't exactly straight. I mean, I like men and women," Steve said, pausing.

"That's really great, Steve. Thanks for telling me, man," Eddie said, and Steve could have sworn he saw a little hope in his eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

"A few months ago, Robin took me to a male strip club up in Indianapolis," Steve said.

"Damn, she really is your best friend, isn't she? . . . Wait. . .you saw my act, didn't you?" Eddie groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Look, man, I took the job because I needed to help my uncle out with the bills. He had an accident, and he needed help covering them."

"Eddie," Steve said, laughing as he removed his hands from his face. "I really liked it. . . I mean, I really liked it so much that I ended up. . . "

"What? You ended up doing what?" Eddie asked softly.

"I left right after your performance to go to the bathroom to, uh, take care of myself," Steve said. "I couldn't even approach you for months because you were all I could think about. Now, I'm starting to get to know you, and I want to continue to get to know you because - "

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

Eddie cupped Steve’s cheek and pressed his lips to Steve’s, kissing him softly. Steve responded immediately, placing his hand on Eddie's hip and pressing lips harshly against Eddie's. They moved together, and Eddie let Steve push him back on the couch. Steve squeezed his hips, and Eddie moaned into his mouth, carding his fingers into Steve’s hair. They broke apart quickly when they heard the door open and looked at Robin's guilty, shocked face for a moment before she disappeared. She slammed the door.

"Nothing to see here, kiddos!" Robin exclaimed. "Quick! Go get it!"

"Did you just throw a stick like we were fucking dogs?!" They heard Dustin shriek.

"Why did you go and fetch it, dumbass?" Max asked. "If you aren't a dog?"

Eddie and Steve sat up as they laughed. They leaned heavily against each other. Eddie laughed and kissed Steve’s cheek.

"I like you too, big boy," Eddie said.