#i'm a sucker for days gone by what can i say

[twoflowers]

Sentimentality - Sanji x Reader

Read on AO3

Description: The newest addition to the Straw Hat crew grapples with their easy affection, and especially with the attention from their doting cook.

Tags: SFW, character study, slight slash, scientist reader, no use of Y/N, female reader. First impressions, nakamaship.

Word count: 1397

Special thanks to @mere-mortifer for the encouragement to post my Sanji fics. I love your Sanji very much.

This one isn't very slash-y and honestly feels a bit incomplete to me, but I'm obsessed with this man in a psychological way and need to post at least something, even if it captures only an ounce of my insanity about him and the crew.

Also: thinking about making this into more of a series (as the reader is kind of based on an OC of mine...!). Please, please, Sanji fans: give me any and every prompt you can imagine.

__

Sentimentality

Every morning you settle into the golden-glowing comfort of the breakfast table: the press of arms against arms, the jostling of bodies to the time of the waves, the hard wooden bench softened despite it all. 

The captain is not at all what you expected. He’s a kid, and a downright grabby one at that. You have to slap his rubbery hands away from your plate at every meal, and if you don’t catch him, Nami always does.

You sit next to Chopper, whose tiny, furry body is so very warm. He likes to plan the day over breakfast, still thrilled to have another scientist on board. You watch him nibble at pancakes with his blocky teeth (it really is hard not to coo over him, but he has his dignity to uphold, so you restrain yourself!) and sip his milk and grin, white mustache and all. Robin leans over with a napkin to clean Chopper’s mouth, and he fusses, but concedes. Some of his drawings hang on the fridge, secured by magnets. You think of siblings with a pang in your chest every time you see them.

Roronoa Zoro is inexplicably softer than you imagined. There’s something about the curve of his cheeks, the careless sprawling stance, the way his nose whistles lightly while he sleeps. He barks laughter at Luffy, leans on his swords like they’re children, even smells better than Nami likes to say.

Robin terrified you at first, but you quickly became a sucker for her mellow gaze and old book smell. Besides, educated women are always of interest to you. Nami and Robin are incredible, always encouraging: proof that somehow, someway, a woman who has been chased out of her old life and hunted by the darkest parts of herself can uncurl and be seen. 

The first few sleepless nights aboard the Going Merry, you stared at the ceiling, heart pounding at the vulnerability of sharing a room. You are a scientist. You’ve long denounced the need for sentimentality, though Luffy manages to wring a few spare drops out of you every day. How could you have accounted for the love that permeates every board of this ship? How have you gone your entire life wondering if belonging like this could exist, only to find it among a notorious pirate crew- a crew who, really, is more bumbling than you could have imagined? How can Luffy stroll into any place- town, restaurant, heart- and break down every wall without a second thought?

And the cook… 

You have to look away from him sometimes. The first time he made a meal for you, he sank to a kneel to present it, like he was a servant and you were a queen who could take his head at any moment, and have it willingly. You took the plate with shaking hands and nodded a thank you. When he stood back up, there was a bit of dust on the knee of his fine-pressed pants. You kept your eyes on it as he fluttered around, crooning to the women and brusquely serving the men. What were you supposed to make of that?

Sanji squeezes your heart like it’s an old rag. The way he remembers your favored flavor profiles makes your toes curl. You’re not even sure you’ve managed to smile at him yet, even a month after joining the crew, because he throws you so off-balance you’re left feeling like you’ve been thrust into a hurricane without any solid structure to grip onto.

His… whatever it is- admiration, loyalty, devotion, all of the above and more- has only gotten stronger in the past month. He floats into the lab as if on a cloud to tell you he made you a snack and left it outside, mindful of the potential for contamination. He tells you how lovely your eyes look that day, and every day- that you are the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and that he lives to serve you.

“A snack for you is outside, miss,” he says today, like he’s itching to bow. “I prepared carrot cake and spiced milk for you, with turmeric, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Let me know if anything is not to your liking.”

You side-eye him from your bench, pipette paused in midair. Miss, miss, miss. Every time he says it you’re left breathless. As usual, you nod and mutter a thank you, still focusing on your work, lest you do something stupid like offering him your hand to kiss or backing him into a wall to taste his neck.

He usually leaves right away, but you don’t hear the door close today. When you look back at Sanji, he’s beaming, eyes practically heart-shaped. 

“May I make anything else for you?”

“No. That will suffice.” Something in your chest is shouting at you for being so formal with him. 

“I like carrot cake,” you add.

Sanji’s smile turns tremulous and melty. A hand moves to cover his heart. “I will keep that in mind. And I don’t wish to disturb you- your work is very important- but it will be best eaten soon, while it’s still warm.”

You surprise yourself by setting down your pipette and moving to the sink to wash your hands. Sanji is still lingering at the door as you scrub between your fingers and under your nails, similar to the way he washes his after handling raw meat. You take extra time drying off, the feeling of him behind you prickling at your neck. 

In the hallway, the cake and milk are placed carefully on a table. The mug is to the top right of the plate, handle tilted at the perfect angle for you to grab. A dainty dessert fork leans against the plate, next to two sprigs of mint forming a heart.

“I almost don’t want to eat it,” you say. “It looks perfect.”

“I can make you as many as you’d like, all with love. Please. It’s my pleasure.”

You lift the fork, and Sanji leans forward with the eagerness of a child witnessing a magic trick. When you take a bite of the cake, his visible eye widens.

“It’s delicious. Thank you, Sanji.”

Sanji lets out a shaky breath. “Of course, miss. I can make you anything your heart desires, provided I have the ingredients. And if I don’t, I will make sure to procure them as soon as we make landfall. And if you want them before that, I'll swim to shore.” 

Why does the man have such puppy-dog eyes? You know with certainty that he would do anything you asked of him, or else die trying, and you’ve hardly spoken to him. There’s a string of tension in his body when he’s around you, loosened slightly now that you’ve complimented his food. Is he just that eager to please?

You have met many men happy to go through the motions of wooing you for one reason alone, but something about Sanji tells you that he would be at your beck and call for the rest of your life, even if you never said “thank you” again.

You nod, moving to try the spiced milk, which is, of course, perfect. 

“I noticed that you like cinnamon, so I tweaked the recipe to add more.” He sounds hopeful. “You don’t find the turmeric overpowering?”

“No, no,” you shake your head, lowering the drink. “It’s good. You’re very… perceptive.”

“Of course! I pay special attention to my lovely ladies.”

You’re included in this group, somehow. Why does that make you want to push and prod at him, despite the measured indifference you’ve culminated?

“Sanji,” you say, and he snaps to attention.

“Yes?”

“Could I have some marmalade with this?”

This is the first time you’ve requested anything from him. A broad smile spreads across his face. 

“Right away.” He falls into a bow before walking down the hallway. When he’s out of view, you hear him begin to run, legs pounding the wooden floor strong enough to rattle the pictures frames on the walls. 

You pluck a sprig of mint from the cake, grinding it between your teeth. It’s refreshing, new, with a bit of a kick. You smile to yourself, imagining Sanji in the kitchen, carefully scooping marmalade into a dainty dish, heart thrumming with the thrill of receiving an order from his newest object of affection.

[vladdyissues]

hey speaking of giving them good things out of pure seething spite

assorted badger cereal AND cheese melt fluff?

-reveal gone wrong. Fentons are supportive, but reveal happened in front of GiW, which means government agents now have his identity linked to a ghost caught on camera causing mayhem and destruction. don't matter how ultimately ineffectual OR competent you make them, Danny Fenton's in deep shit now.

-but hey, Vlad's got himself some connections! Danny Fenton disappears. Daniel Masters appears. Big bro to Danielle Masters, yes he's always existed, of course he's not Danny Fenton, Phantom is still appearing in Amity Park, there'd have to be a portal in Wisconsin to pull that off.

-Danny expects to feel isolated. Instead? Gets to have extended ghost family like his new gremlin little sister, gets to have a home schooling experience that means he isn't pressured to keep a schedule broken by ghost attacks, gets to visit through the FentonWorks lab regularly.

-And Vlad seems to have chilled the entire fuck out with two half-ghost kids to Obsess over parenting.

-although if he's going to live in this house Danny is damn well going to learn to make his own ghost-tech and learn the value of an honest day's mad science.

-(Vlad didn't bust his ass learning to solder at a professional level for a field of technology so experimental no one credible believes it exists just so Danny could get desparate and use tech as a projectile)

-and it's really nice having lab safety respected so the food doesn't reanimate.

-and he can just use his powers whenever, however.

-huh. with homeschooling getting easier all the time, maybe he could take up a sport? you don't need to attend a school full time to do that, right...?

-best revenge is living well. Or in this case, enabling such for a kid who just says the saddest things about his home life without realizing

-seriously it makes Vlad go "mine nao" on a deep, irrevocable scale.

-also fucking no one believes Daniel Masters is Danny Fenton because they've a: met his little sister, and b: seen them interact. you're saying these two didn't have the same parents and grow up around each other? (And the fun thing is: technically, Dani being a clone means BOTH of those are true!)

-something something "what do you mean I qualify for scholarships?!" + realization he's actually smart he was just being forced to triple shift his life and it was the worst thing he could have possibly done

I am the biggest sucker for Danny unexpectedly thriving under Vlad's care due to having all of the opportunities and special attention that come with being filthy stinking rich. (That's basically what I'm doing in Familiar.) But having a place where he finally feels comfortable being himself and having people he can relate to? Priceless.

his new gremlin little sister

Can you imagine how awesome Danny is going to feel when it finally clicks that he's not the youngest child anymore? That he's a "big brother"? I think he'd be over the moon. (Mostly. I've heard stories of little sisters.)

an honest day's mad science

ALSKDJHFLAKJSHDFLAKJSDHF Vlad inadvertently switching on Danny's dormant mad scientist gene by demonstrating how to Science Correctly while observing proper safety protocol and making it look really fun and cool—something his parents always wanted but never managed to do—is delicious. Two helpings, please. Heap it on 🍽

[thelvadams]

> fortnite OG > apex legends classic > overwatch classic > nuketown in black ops 6 > halo 2 maps in halo infinite

everything old is new again

[pressureplus]

Ourmmm can I request a headcanon of nicknames Sebastion and the reader would give each other? Only if ur not busy of course 🙏🏾

This one's really cute, absolutely! nobody has any need to be shy here! ❤️

We're here for the fish content.

💖Sebastian Solace Nickname Headcannons💖

Warnings: N/A

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

If You're Enemies:

• He's mean to most people but he's AWFUL to you

• Half of the things he uses to refer to you are curse words

• Bastard, Dumbass, Dickhead, ect... He can't even be bothered a good portion of the time, not with you

• And then there's days where he's feeling EXTRA

• "You look like your mother dropped you into a plinko machine."

• "Do you always act like you crawled out of the dredges of 4Chan?"

• "Oh, there's my favorite little insect!"

• The second he finds out you have mommy issues, he calls you motherless. You're missing your left eye, hand, leg, or ear? He'll call you Righty. Deformities and Mutations alike, he's petty and likes to take cheap shots

• Chance to call you by your name: 0%

If You're Acquaintances:

• You're probably a buyer, so Patron, Customer, Unfortunate Guest, and Expendable are all on the table

• If you work with him religiously, he might call you something special like 'Traitor' or 'Survivor'

• Customer Service says "try make sale", so he's most often short but sweet. Most of his mean commentary comes out when you're not in the shop

• "Oh, now, There's just the person I wanted to see! Welcome back."

• Doesn't talk to you much, so there isn't a ton of things he really calls you, you're towing a pretty neutral line

• Chance to call you by your name: 60%

If You're Friends:

• Actually genuinely wants you around, so now you get actual, meaningful interactions with this man other than buisness!

• He calls you Stupid and he calls you Clumsy, even occasionally calling you Reckless, Dummy, or Sucker

• If you're a little goblin, he calls you Crawler and Vermin

• And then he turns around and calls you Bestie, Favorite, and even Treat

• "Well if it isn't the Star of the Show!"

• Tends to lean towards positive interactions, as having someone he can truly call a friend to him makes him feel a little better about living in a place like this

• Chance to call you by your name: 40%

If You're Lovers:

• Oh God what have you done? How did you even get this far?

• He's SMOTHERING as a lover, and this absolutely extends to the way he refers to you

• Before, when you were Idiot, Crawler, or Treat? Now you're his little Idiot, Crawler or Treat

• "Is that my little star I see over there?"

• "Ah, there you are, my treasure, I was wondering where you'd gone off to."

• "There's my sweet little light, what are you doing?"

• "Are you doing well, my love? You aren't hurt?"

• "If it isn't my darling little diver."

• Likes that he's bigger than you not to emphasize that you're tiny and sweet to him

• Still hits you with something mean every now and then, probably poking fun at you in some way, most likely as an inside joke or a nickname from wherever your relationship started

• (RIP if y'all started as enemies, he's still going to be a bitch to you on his Extra days, it's a funny habit now... Though I guess now it's playful so you win some you lose some, right?)

• I'm sure you wouldn't have it any other way, you know the sassy fish you decided to keep very well by now

• Chance to call you by your name: 5%

[a-hazbin-reader]

Heave you done hcs with Wifey scratching/touching Alastor’s ears/tail?

I HAVE NOW??

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Suggestive

Description: ☝️⬆️

Alastor only trusts his wife to mess with his ears and tail, everyone else would lose a hand if they tried, some people actually have

But with you, it's different, he's comfortable with you and doesn't mind letting you see all his different reactions

Will actually seek you out on certain days, laying himself in your lap and hoping you'll get the hint

You know exactly what he wants but it's more fun if you pretend you don't, patting his head before going back to your book

"Long day, my dear~?"

He let's out a small bleat, his ears twitching upwards in an effort to draw your attention to them

"Better now that I'm with you..."

You don't even glance at his ears, nor do you look at his tail when he suddenly stretches out like a cat and wiggles it

Don't make him say it, it's embarrassing

Alastor let's out another bleat and stares at you pitifully, making you hum and hover your hand over his head

He happily meets it and rubs his head against your hand, letting out a happy sigh as your fingers graze along his ears

You can't help but laugh at him a little, rolling your eyes as you rub and scratch behind his fuzzy ears

"You could've just asked me~"

He's gone lax on top of you, his tail swaying as the rest of him lays in a daze

"Hn... too embarrassing..."

His eyes are closed, head tilting to get you to scratch at a different angle as he practically drools in your lap

Once he's asleep, you lean down to kiss his ears and watch them twitch from the soft touch

He's such a cute man

His tail is a slightly different story, he covers it for a reason and finds the area to be very sensitive

His tail is far more expressive than his ears, and you use it against him whenever you can

So usually, when you're touching it, it's to rile him up or let him know just what he's in for later

He's taken off his jacket and is distracted by whatever he's working on? His tail slowly swaying as he hums to himself with his back turned to you?

How are you not supposed to mess with his tail when he leaves it out like that???

You saddle up next to him, kissing his cheek and neck affectionately as your hand creeps it's way down his back

"Darling, just what has gotten into you~?"

His tone is playful, tilting his head to give you more access as he wraps one arm around you to keep you from pulling away

Your other hand plays with one of his ears, leaning up to kiss the tip of it before whispering in his ear

"Nothing yet~"

Your words paired with the fact that you're twirling his tail in your fingers makes his entire body go hot

His ears stick up straight, and he drops what he's holding, giving you a wobbly smile as he tries to compose himself

"You are an insatiable woman!"

You just smile at him sweetly and keep rubbing his tail, the traitorous thing wagging from the attention as a pleased shudder runs through the rest of his body

It's all he can do to suppress a groan, giving you a dangerous look but not trying to stop you

"Upstairs. Our bedroom. Give me two minutes."

You can't help but laugh and give him one last kiss before sauntering out of the room, eager to do as Alastor says

You stop at the doorway, looking back to give him a look that would scare most people but instead turns Alastor on

"Don't keep my waiting, Alastor~ Or I'll come back and bite those cute ears of yours~"

His ears and tail both stick up straight, frantically putting away his little project and scrambling after you

Don't threaten him with a good time

I'm a sucker for teasing this man 😭

[leeknow-thoughts]

blood sucker ━╋

bang chan x reader

♱ ! synopsis : your sweet boyfriend just can't resist you, no matter what time of the month it is, but especially the time when he can feed from your sweet cunt ...

♱ ! content warnings : vampire!chan, human!f!reader, smut (mdni!!), period sex, clit play, cunnilingus, dom!Chris, sub!reader, pet names, daddy kink (act shocked), use of pain medication !!

You were groggy that morning, more so than usual. The pain in your stomach reminded you of why. You grumbled with every step you took to get to the medicine cabinet in your bathroom. Pop open the cap to the bottle of ibuprofen and swallow two of the white pills with a cup of water. You stare at yourself in the dirty mirror above your porcelain sink.

Your hair sat a mess on your head, greasy and in need of a trim, your face was unbelievably puffy, probably from eating so much greasy food for the past few days, and your eye bags seemed to be darker than usual. Your phone vibrating on the counter finally got your attention, upon seeing the caller id you couldn't help but perk up.

"Hi, my sweet girl," his Aussie accent crackles over the speakers of your phone, a sense of calm washing over your tired body, "are you feeling okay?"

"Mhm," you sigh, not fully sure if you are in fact feeling okay, "where are you?"

Your boyfriend's laughter rings in your ears, followed by, "straight to the point today, hmm?"

He is such a tease, but he knows you love it. "I miss you, Channie," you grumble, "when are you going to be home?"

"I'm just a few minutes away baby, what's bothering you, hmm?" he speaks to you so softly it takes your brain a minute to fully register what he is saying.

Chan is quick to talk when you are still contemplating what you need to tell him, "sweet girl? I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

"Jus' miss you, need you," normally you'd cringe about how weak you sounded in that moment, but you don't because you know that Chris loves you even when you're weak.

"Oh," Chris' voice is impossibly gentle, "my baby, I'll be home in just a few minutes I swear. When I get back we can watch a show and I'll make us some food."

"Okay," you agree, "see you in a few, I love you."

"Love you more," you can hear his smile over the phone before the dial tone.

You groggily walk back to bed, flopping down onto your soft mattress. Your eyes feel heavier with each passing second but you just can't seem to fall back asleep.

Although your tiredness you can't help but perk up when the keys jingle in the door to your apartment. "Baby?" Chris calls out once he closes the door behind himself.

He steps towards your bedroom, his footsteps causing the wooden floors of your apartment to creak very slightly. He pokes his head in the doorway to your room, "hi my sweet baby," he coos.

"Channie," you're breathless when you talk for whatever the reason may be.

Chris is quick to walk over to your bed and lay right next to you, scooping you up into his arms like you're a baby. You are a baby, you're his baby. "I'm sorry I've been gone, my sweet girl," he apologizes like he can help the fact that he had to go.

"It's okay," you hum in a quiet voice, "you got to eat earlier?"

"Mhm," he flashes you a toothy grin, his fangs catching your eye, "I brought back my two month's supply," he tells you.

His hands run gently through your hair while he asks you about work and your friends and how your mom is doing. At first it used to freak you out about how cold his hands were against your skin. Now, no matter how cold they may be they seem to feel warm and comforting. A comfortable silence fills the air as Chris holds you close to his chest.

It's so easy to slip

"Channie," you break the silence shamelessly, "I-."

The words can't come out of your throat, but Chris knows exactly what you need, shifting quickly to grab a throw blanket and cover you with it. Your body moves unconsciously to the cramp that pulses in your stomach,"are your cramps bothering you?"

"Mhm," you're bending at the center trying to put pressure on your lower stomach, "how'd you know I'm on my period?"

Chris almost seems embarrassed to answer you this time, "can smell it - the blood."

"Does it smell bad?"

"Smells like you, smells delicious," he reassures your worst fears.

You hum in reply, your mind moving all too fast, "would you - y'know? Drink my b-blood?"

"Are you being rhetorical?" Chris' eyes squint trying to see your true intentions.

Honestly, you don't even know your own intentions, why else would you ask your boyfriend who happens to be a vampire if he would drink your period blood. You shrug, Chris continues, "I wouldn't drink it, but I'd love to eat you out and get a taste."

Your face gets all hot, your cheeks are a nice cherry color for sure, and shame wracks your brain. Your thighs are pressing together for some sense of reprieve. Chan likes this though, watching you get all embarrassed and squirmy. "Oh," his voice is deep this time, "my little one likes that idea? You wanna have your daddy eat from your cunt?"

"I-I," you're so embarrassed you could cry, Chris' right hand comes up to your chin and tilts it up so you're looking at him. His eyes are starting to turn red.

He only has red eyes when he's hungry, eating, or angry. He only looks at you with love, though. Chris is quick to manhandle you into a position on your back. While you take in the softness of the sheets, Chris stands up and walks into the bathroom.

He fetches a towel that he brings to the bed, folds it once, and puts it under your hips. "You gonna let daddy get a taste?" he hums, looking at you for confirmation.

"Mhm," you hum and nod in reply.

Your head feels fuzzy as he peels off your sweatpants, tossing them somewhere in the room. "Wait!" you cry out when you think of him seeing your underwear and pad.

All Chris' movements halt instantly, "yes, my baby?"

"C-close your eyes, I d-don't want you to see my pad," you can feel the blood in your face throbbing, as you watch relief wash over Chris' features.

"Baby, you have nothing to be embarrassed about, but if you really don't want me to watch I won't," he agrees, closing his eyes.

You hesitate for a moment before talking, "fine you can take them off," you hum.

You close your eyes so you don't see his reaction to your pad, you hear shuffling around the room and Chris' calloused hands pulling down your underwear. You feel his warmth next to you and the bed dips as it adjusts to his weight. "You can open your eyes now, princess," you can hear the grin in his voice.

When your eyes open you see Chris laying next to you in nothing but his boxers. "O-oh," you gawk at his nearly naked body.

His body is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen and you feel utterly over dressed. You're fast to fiddle with the hem of your crew neck, ready to pull it over your head. "Don't," Chris' voice is firmer, "you'll get cold, I don't want my baby to get cold."

You nod, and pull him down for a tender kiss. With every second that his lips are on your own, you feel more and more desperate to have them somewhere else.

Almost like he can read your mind, Chris is shifting down the bed and parting your legs. He slides between them and your fingers thread through his black curly hair. He looks up at you with his red eyes as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

A growl rips from the back of his throat at the taste of your blood. "Oh, oh God, daddy," you whine, hands tightening in his locks.

Every nerve is on fire in your body as your thighs start to tremble. Chris' composure is surely about to break because as soon as you start sputtering about how good it feels, he starts messily tongue fucking your cunt.

His tongue is drawing shapes on your sensitive clit and he's starting to lose himself in the feeling of it all. You can tell that he's enjoying himself by the way his hips grind against the bed. His pretty fingers prod at your throbbing entrance and push past the ring of muscle.

His fingers expertly curl in your cunt, making you see stars. everything around you starts to dissolve into pleasure and the band in your stomach breaks after a particularly harsh suck to your clit.

You cry out into the abyss of your room as Chris continues to lick you through your orgasm. Eventually, once your cunt stops throbbing, you pull Chris up by his hair, and that's when you see his state.

His eyes are half lidded, almost like he is high, and his lips are swollen, his fangs peeking out from his puffy lips. The lower third of his pretty face is covered in blood, your blood, and he's quick to lick his lips to savor the flavor of it. "Holy shit," you stutter.

"You tasted so sweet, babydoll," his voice is sly, "sorry I came in my pants, will you let me eat you out until my cock is hard again?"

You're definitely not going to deny his wishes when he's this debauched and this sexy.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks

Pairing: Jason Todd x Civilian!Reader. No pronouns so can be read as any gender!

Summary: Meet-ugly with the Red Hood due to a gas station robbery gone wrong.

Word count: ~2k

(I'm branching out to other fandoms, apparently. Let me know if you want a sequel. Enjoy!)

You weren't born in Gotham, so it sometimes still surprises you that you had adjusted so well to its particular brand of crazy.

You're from somewhere a little more south of New Jersey, although most places in the U.S. are a little south of Jersey unless you're a lobster farmer from Maine or a tree hugger from Vermont.

Both of those descriptions sound critical, but they weren't meant to be. Right about now you're seriously considering taking up lobster farming.

No one sane ever moves to Gotham. Everyone knows the stories, and even if most of the country didn't believe all of them, most people aren't stupid enough to disregard them. And you certainly weren't stupid. But rent was dirt cheap for a city, and so was tuition for GU's vet school. So you thought to yourself, "How bad could it really be," bought pepper spray and a taser, and accepted the admissions offer.

You'd always liked iced coffee more than green bean casserole and peach cobbler, anyway.

Reading news articles hadn't been enough to prepare you for the utter insanity of Gotham City, unfortunately. But you adapted. You always did. Upgraded your taser, memorized the bus schedule, learned the less sketchy areas of town, did your best not to get caught outside after dark. Kept your head down, ignored the crime lords and genetic experiments gone wrong and lunatics and vigilantes scurrying along the rooftops, and you'd survived for almost two years without many incidents.

But you'd gone to the library because you were critically unable to work in your apartment, gotten distracted by panicking about how little you really knew about next week's test content, and stared at the pages of your textbook for almost an hour as you fought back tears. So now you were running late and it was dark as you walked home because the buses were down. Of course they were. That lunatic that thought he was a crocodile had smashed a bunch last week and they hadn't been replaced yet.

Goosebumps prickle on the back of your neck, but you tell yourself it's nothing. Keep your head down. Criminals target the people that look most obviously paranoid first.

You're just burnt out. Severely. But the end of your sophomore year of veterinary school was looming, which meant you would have a relaxing three-month vacation before the next one started.

And no, you weren't thinking about next year's summer 'vacation' of clinicals. Because if this year was bad after a year of summer vacation, what will it do to you to have no break at all?

That's a future you problem, thankfully.

You're still feeling sorry for yourself when you reach the gas station right next to your apartment building. You walk right by it, remember what's in your fridge or pantry—thanks, grocery store self, thinking you don't need any snacking foods—then backtrack.

Since starting vet school, you've tried to be healthier with your eating habits. Brains lacking in nutrients absorb information less efficiently, after all. But you're still a sucker for Cheez-Its and energy drinks.

You won't drink it tonight, obviously.

Right as you put the items on the counter for the bored-looking cashier to scan the barcodes, something cold presses to your temple.

The cashier freezes, eyes blown wide with panic.

"Easy there," someone says to your left. A man, voice oily in a way that sets your teeth on edge immediately. "Do what I say, or I blow their brains out, then yours."

A gun.

A gun is pressed to your head.

Because of course it is. A shitty way to end a shitty day. You should have kept walking right past the gas station.

Before you moved to Gotham, you might have screamed and panicked, but you know better now. You know to stay calm.

You clench your fists to stop them from shaking so noticeably, but otherwise don't move. You've seen hostage situations before, because this is Gotham, but you've never been the hostage.

The gun feels heavy. And so cold, like it's sapping all the heat from your skin.

"Okay, dude," the cashier said soothingly. "You want the money in the register?"

The robber scoffs. "Obviously."

"All right." The cashier's voice is even and soft, unthreatening. You wonder if training for situations like these are required for cashiers in Gotham. It certainly hadn't been for your old job, although that hadn't been in New Jersey, and it hadn't been at a twenty-four seven gas station, either. "I need to get a key to unlock it, okay? So I'm reaching below the counter."

"Just get the key," the robber demands. The gun shifts against your temple. You fantasize for a half-second about acting like an action hero, disarming him and taking him down all on your own. But you're not a vigilante and you've never been in a real-life fight before. You don't think you're fast enough to get out of the barrel's way before he pulls the trigger. If you managed to shove it away, what if he fired and hit the cashier instead?

Then comes the sound of another gun clicking.

Great, you think half-hysterically. Just what we need. Even more deadly weapons.

"Lower the gun," growls a modulated voice, and everyone freezes.

The Red Hood is standing behind the robber, also pointing a gun to his head like the meme of people lined up in a church with guns aimed at the person in front of them.

The robber lets his gun dip a little bit. Distracted enough that it's not pressed directly to your temple anymore.

Not to brag, but you recover the quickest. It's probably the adrenaline.

Thank God you keep your keychain in hand while out at night. Your fingers shake, but you have your pepper spray up in a second, and the robber's turning to look at your sudden movement when you squeeze down on the nozzle.

The spray hits him directly in the eyes, and his howl of pain is immediate. But you don't stop spraying, even when the cashier starts to splutter and your own eyes water.

The gun goes off, once in the robber's hands, and a second time when it hits the ground because he's dropped it in favor of clutching his burning face.

You stop the stream of pepper spray, because now the air is spicy when you breathe, but can't force yourself to lower your hand. The Red Hood quickly handcuffs the would-be robber, which is only difficult because he's clawing at his eyes in pain, and executes a tricky-looking martial arts move to get him on the ground.

Despite everything, you're impressed.

The Red Hood is bigger than maybe anyone you've ever seen before. He could have punched the robber in half like paper, probably, but you appreciate the finesse a little bit more.

"Hey." A gentle voice, and gentle hands, take the pepper spray out of your grip. "Quick thinking there," you're complimented. By the fucking Red Hood, one of Gotham's most infamous crime lords. The first time you read about him in the papers, he was chopping off people's heads, and every story since has been similarly alarming. But he's not supposed to be here; the Red Hood stays in Park Row, which locals call Crime Alley, apparently, and you've always steered very clear from that part of town.

"Can you look at me?"

You do. Maybe he won't chop off your head if you listen well enough.

"Are you okay?"

You blink. That... does not compute.

The Red Hood doesn't save people. And he doesn't leave Crime Alley. So what's he doing outside of Crime Alley, saving people?

The robber is still screaming, eyes screwed up in pain. He's handcuffed on the ground.

"You should probably let him wash out his eyes, at least," you tell the cashier. "Pepper spray is pretty painful." You'd sprayed yourself once out of curiosity, realized how much it burned, then sprinted to the shower to rinse it off. Which, pro tip: not a good move, especially with warm water. Water reactivates it by opening your pores, or something, and when you're in the shower it just spreads all over your body.

Your eyes are watering. The Red Hood sees that, because he tells you, "Let's get some air," and tugs you out of the gas station.

He's right. The cool night air does feel good. You blink away the stinging in your eyes and he repeats, "Are you okay?" His voice is robotic from the mask, but kind of pleasant at the same time. You'd never guess just from listening to him that he's a killer.

"Yes," you say automatically. "Thanks," you add. You're lightheaded for some reason; you sway on your feet.

"You sure?" he asks critically. "You look... pale." Judging by the pause, 'pale' wasn't the word he really wanted to say. The red helmet tilts. "You weren't shot, were you?"

"I don't think so," you shrug. Then you look down at yourself and realize that there's a large bloodstain on your hip. "Never mind. I think I was."

"Jesus!" he yelps at the sight. It's kind of funny, actually, this grown man built like a brick shithouse yelping at the sight of blood. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shrug and peel your sticky shirt away from the wound to inspect it. "I thought I just bumped something." Sure enough, it's just a graze. You weren't sure which shot had hit you, but you'd honestly been injured worse. Plus, supervising surgeries at the animal clinic you'd worked at for years has desensitized you to the sight of blood. Maybe it's also altered your perception on what 'serious injuries' count as; the amount of times you've been bitten by startled dogs...

"You need to go to the hospital."

"It's just a scratch," you argue. "I can't go to the hospital. I need to feed my cat."

"Your cat can wait. You're bleeding a lot."

"I'm already late, and if I miss dinner, he'll start pissing all over my apartment."

The Red Hood sighs. "Where do you live?"

Your mouth opens to answer on instinct. You snap it shut just in time and glare. "Why?"

"So I can feed your cat for you while you go to the hospital."

It's nice of him to offer, but... "No."

"No?"

Maybe it's not the best idea to refuse Gotham's most prominent crime lord, but it would also be pretty stupid to tell a strange man where you live. Especially when he happens to be said crime lord.

"Look," you sigh. "I'm a vet student. I have surgical tools at home to treat myself with, and I promise, under the blood, the bullet barely hit me. I've been hurt worse by Chihuahuas that hate the vet."

"There's no way I can convince you to change your mind?"

"It's been a long day," you sigh. "I really, really just want to go home." And he's blocking the path. Your apartment building is directly behind him, just calling your name.

"At least let me walk you to your building." He holds his hands up at your suspicious look and assures you, "I won't ask for the apartment number."

"I'm literally right there." You point.

He turns, sees how close you are to being home, and says, "Seriously?"

"Seriously. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were some kind of villain."

"I'm reformed," he grumbles.

"Well, good for you."

You make sure you have your keys and your wallet, then step around him and make it all the way to your building's door before he calls, "Wait!" The Red Hood's jogging to catch up to you, holding the box of Cheez-Its and energy drink you'd almost died for. "You forgot these," he says.

"Thanks," you say, taking them. It would have been a shame to waste four dollars.

"You're welcome," he says. There's something odd about his voice, but you attribute it to the mask, scan to be let into the building, and make sure it's fully closed before heading to the elevator.

Your cat is unhappy about dinner being an hour late. He weaves between your feet, making his protests loudly and viscerally known. You wince. He's worse than the dogs that bark in this building sometimes.

Your poor neighbors.

You give him his wet food, then hop in the shower to clean off your hip. It bled a lot, but once the blood washes away, it's actually not as bad as you thought. You've stitched up animals before, but never yourself, and decide against trying tonight. If it heals a little unevenly, who cares? No one will see it, anyway.

You pad the wound with gauze, tape it over, and fall into bed. Staring at the ceiling, you're forced to admit to yourself that you may be looking up more in the future. Just to see if anyone in a red helmet is running on a rooftop nearby.

It was a long day. But, strangely, almost dying wasn't the worst part of it.

Actually... it may have been the best part.

~~

Forever tag list:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[jinxs-gf]

The Human Spider

The Team x Spider!Reader

summary: you are this universe’s one and only spider-person.

warnings/content: set before the 1st episode of young justice s1, a few marvel references, this whole thing is from the perspective of the reader who’s basically Spider-Man so the writing is a bit silly…but I like it

word count: 2.1k

a/n: this is essentially an introduction to this world, I’m really hoping I can pop a couple fics within this little universe 😭🙏🏽 if not then…I’m sorry LMAO. only time will tell. ENJOY!!!

Life was good.

I mean, how could it not be? You got to fight side by side with some of Earth's greatest heroes. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Flash...oh and Black Canary and—

Yeah. It was great. Not to mention how incredibly easy it was for you to defeat the bad guys you'd fought. You definitely didn't have four near death experiences because of them!

Well you did, but they were completely your fault and not at the hands of a couple of phony villains. They happened before you got used to your powers and gone through extensive training.

It seemed like a curse at first, but now you take them with stride. Your super strength foreign as you'd broke nearly everything in your apartment (that hadn't been a fun thing to explain to your Aunt and Uncle when they came home to a trashed place). Sticky hands well...getting stuck to literally everything. The amount of money you spent replacing your clothes after accidentally ripping up your whole closet only trying to get ready for school...that was also not fun explaining to your guardians.

And the webs. Oh boy. You didn't want to think about it. The hole in your wrist that shot out webs like a proper spider freaked you out the most. You nearly turned yourself in to the government after that one. It was something that took the most mental work to control, the weird hole (yuck) closing up when you didn't need it.

The one thing you did appreciate immediately was the abs. Yeah, those were nice to wake up to one morning.

Today was just another day in your life. A simple mission happening in the middle of the city. Actually it was a pretty unusual mission, it wasn't the regular Ice Family or Joker cult you were fighting...but a Rhino. Seemingly a man in a Rhino cosplay. And his henchmen? Definitely not something you see everyday, but you have seen weirder.

Speaking of his henchmen...there was a lot of them. Enough to keep each member of the team occupied. They had insanely advanced weaponry, surprisingly keeping the fight going for a while.

You hadn't realized so many of the guys were on you now, all surrounding you and trying to shoot at you with guns that weren't spitting out regular bullets.

You look to your side and see your best friend (he doesn't think so but that's what you tell everyone so deal with it sucker). Speedy, Green Arrow's sidekick, Roy Harper under the mask, and Pain in the Ass (a nickname you'd affectionately given him) to you.

You were in a compromising position, one that you could easily get yourself out of. But now you've spotted an unoccupied Roy and you wanted to have a little fun admist the chaos.

"Hey pain in my ass! A little help here!" The men were now taking shots with their fists, all failing to land their hits of course. And your best friend had completely ignored you.

"Hellooooo you know I'm talking to you!"

"I told you I wouldn't answer when you called me that. And I thought I made myself very clear." Definitely referring to the embarrassing way he took you down in front of the team after harassing him all week with the nickname a month ago.

"Well you answered right now soo...."

An arrow suddenly flew right past you, nearly grazing your cheek. A couple more followed.

"Um hello?! You nearly took me out!"

"That's my way of saying cut it out while saving your ass. And don't your spidey senses detect that kind of stuff? Danger and threats? You should've seen them coming."

"Huh. Guess you aren't as threatening as you think you are. At least not with that silly little hat on."

He simply glared at you. He was definitely going to kick your ass later. (Again).

With your guys dealt with, you turned to watch as Flash and Kid Flash emptied out a school bus on the road. Well, watched was a strong word. The job was done before you could fully process what was happening.

And suddenly that same school bus was being throw your way by the Rhino-man. Directly above your head actually.

Uh oh.

CRASH!

This was the third time that's happened to you this week!

He had good aim, you'll admit. It landed on you perfectly, but thanks to your incredible strength he seemingly didn't know about (how could he not? You're literally the Spider-Person from tv! Spider-Person...pfft what a stupid name. No one seemed to come up with something better), the biggest indicator to this being his shocked face. Oh how you loved that look. You threw it right back at him. Jokes on Rhino-man, you also had incredible aim.

"It's gonna take a lot more than a school bus to take me out!" Although you could feel the nearly broken rib and bruises you'd need to get checked out before you went home today.

You sighed happily, dusting your hands, "light work to me. Maybe try one of those city buses next time? Might be heavier and more effective-"

The words barely left your mouth before a city bus was being throw at you, "Wait I didn't actually mean it!" You caught the bus this time. And although your senses knew the danger was coming, it was still a bus that caught you off guard with its weight. Your legs and arms quivered at the force of having to hold it up, you could feel every bruise spotted on your body with the strain and it was not fun. While your body healed faster than the average human, it definitely wasn't fast enough to recover from the previous hit.

The back of the bus was fully tipped to the sky. You prayed there was no one in this thing. And sure you were strong, but there was no way you could tip it back on its wheels without potentially hurting someone.

Luckily Superman helped you with that, seeing you struggle. He easily took it off your hands (show off) and maneuvered it so it was placed safely back on the road.

"Thanks Supes!" He gave a nod and his famous smile.

It was only a couple more minutes of fighting and cars being thrown around before the whole thing was wrapped up. The adults would give their words to the police and news reporters, blah blah blah...

While they did that, you and your best friends, the teens (the cooler ones) got together like you always did after a mission.

Superman is being interviewed by the infamous Lois Lane (the talk of the teen team, there was definitely tension there).

All while Wally stands a little behind them making faces and ridiculous poses for the camera. The rest of you stood out of shot either cackling or rolling your eyes.

Wally steps back, clearly offended. "What? All he's doing is flirting with her in front of a live audience. Remember what they said last time? No one's gonna be paying attention to me."

Robin snickers, "What? The whole 'no one can take Superman' 'but you sure can'?" He repeats their words in poorly done impressions.

"That was totally an innuendo!"

"Very mature KF."

"Hey! Robin and Spider laughed with me. And I saw Speedy’s smirk, he sat there trying to pretend he didn't find it funny. Maybe you should get that stick out of your ass, Aqualad?"

Roy, completely serious, replies, "Now that's no way to talk to the adults' favorite."

You perk up, "oh, me?"

Your friends immediately explode into disagreement, apparently in disbelief you'd think such a thing.

It was a simple story, how it all came to be. You got bit by a spider (totally cool about it).

Totally didn't scream your ass off because of it and stay paranoid the rest of the day, constantly thinking there was a creepy crawler on you...no. You found out the next day that you weren't actually paranoid—if you were in the first place, which you were not! Because apparently the spider had camped out in your clothes all day and night...

You totally didn't scream your ass off again that morning at the revelation.

You did scream at the sight of abs on your body that same morning though. And that's the only reason you'll ever thank the spider, forget the cool powers.

After that you thought it would be cool to use your powers for good, inspired by your uncle. You decided to have your own cool hero costume, symbol, and name (which you still haven't gotten. You originally thought of the Human Spider. People on the streets called it dumb, claiming they would not be calling you that). You had (unfortunately) been (TEMPORARILY!) named the Spider-Person. Which was insanely stupid and you needed to come up with something quick before it stuck completely. Maybe the Human Spider wasn't so good but it wasn't as bad as your unofficial name now!

Anyways, as for the cool hero costume. You had to use what you had at the time, which was...your normal clothes. Getting a costume online seemed cheap, and dressing up as an existing character in the media and saving people seemed wrong. It would only deny your identity as a hero. So you put on whatever clothes (mostly colorful pajamas) that you had, covered the bottom half of your face with a bandanna, and called it a night. And boy did that get you a lot of ridicule, but you got the job done, right? The only thing it didn't do was protect your body from scrapes and...stab wounds. You hated little knives.

You're not the smartest in the world and it's not like you had the money someone like Bruce Wayne could pull out of their ass and make cool superhero wear.

Once you were recruited by Batman, he gave you your own hero costume—no, suit. Every suggestion you made was followed. It was perfect. The mask had to be your favorite part though. Something you didn't suggest was the some type of magic on it, something called hammerspace. Basically you could have any type of hair, or ears...probably even a pair of headphones on your head and it won't show through. It'll seemingly disappear to this hammerspace (you weren't sure how it worked exactly, but it works nonetheless so you won't question it). The magic was done by a team member who was needed very rarely named Zatara. Another man with a silly hat on his head.

You attempted to try it with Batman to see if his bat ears would disappear (which was completely encouraged by Robin by the way. No- completely his idea!) He was not happy. (You got benched for a month...no patrols, no missions...and Robin got off scott-free! How was that fair?!)

Wally starts to bring up your part of the fight, specifically the bus incident.

"Hey isn't that the third time that's happened to you this week?"

You sigh, exasperated and playing it up, "yes."

Robin butts in before you could say anything more, "Couldn't you have caught them? Y'know with your spidey senses and incredible strength?" He has the nastiest smirk on his face. His smartass totally figured you out.

"Well yeah, duh. But it's fun seeing the looks on the bad guys' faces when they realize I'm not dead and I can carry a however many pound bus! Is that so bad?"

"No but it's embarrassing for us."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Yeah, our best friend who's powers include crazy senses that gives them insane reflexes? That best friend can't catch a big, yellow bus being thrown at them? Embarrassing." The one time Roy will take the claim as your best friend is when he's insulting you? Unsurprising.

Kaldur cut in, sensing your defense a mile away, "It is pretty shameful of you."

Your jaw dropped, even Kaldur of all of people was agreeing? Oh this is insane!

You point a figure at your friends, trying to get your threat across, "Well I find that incredibly offensive and you should all take that back before I-"

"Isn't the point of your powers to detect danger before it comes? How come that's the third time this week you've been hit by a school bus? It's embarrassing, Spider." Batman's monotone voice made his words all the more insulting. Your frown deepened.

You sigh, "Yup. Real embarrassing for me. I got that."

"No, embarrassing for me. I've got a reputation to keep up."

He walks away without another word.

"I can't tell if he was trying to joke around like you guys were, but I'm still offended."

"He was being dead serious. And for the record, so were we."

I wrote this before I wrote my Conner fic. I just realized I made Batman tease reader at the end of both fics…??

[kazumist]

THE NAME OF LOVE .ᐟ

✩ — the three times hoshina soshiro dismissed his feelings for you as something that friends do and the one time he realized otherwise.

✩ — request: IVE BEEN WANTING TO REQ U SOMETHING FOR SO LONG NOW I HOPE U DONT MIND !! can i ask for hopeless romantic reader and hoshina soushirou.... the way he... is...... (LOVE PESSIMIST 🫵) I'm a sucker for hoshina falling first or confessing first but it is truly up to you!! i genuinely have no idea where im going with this so pls feel free to change anything to your liking

✩ — includes: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader. fluff. cw: uhm funky pacing bc this is just pure word vom LAWLZ. wc: 3583 (i did not expect for it to be this long i swear). reader works for operations and is considered as second best to okonogi (is also okonogi's assitant). ikaruga and okonogi cameo yipee! hoshina is bad at feelings ™. reblogs and feedback are much appreciated !!

to love is something you cannot name.

that’s a saying that stitched itself onto your brain because it just makes sense. loving someone has way too much depth, depending on the person who is the one lending out their heart and who they are giving it out to in the first place. it could be named as anything, depicted as anything, or interpreted as anything.

especially for you, who had witnessed, watched, read, and consumed all sorts of media that named love as numerous things. sometimes love is tragic, making two people feel so much just for them to get pulled away from each other when they were so close to running into each other’s arms. sometimes love is mirthful, having two people become the best versions of themselves around the person they love because they feel safe becoming vulnerable with the other. yet sometimes love is bittersweet, accepting the art of letting go as it was for the best—accepting that things weren’t just meant to be but not forgetting the emotions the person made you feel.

well, how were you supposed to know what love really is? a hopeless romantic is hopeless for a reason.

having a day off is quite rare, even for the employees of the operations department. the work was quite demanding, as any job involving the JAKDF was. but you still made time to relax and enjoy your rest from time to time, whether that was rewatching a good old romcom film from the 2000s or reading a new romance novel you decided to pick up.

it was normal for a hopeless romantic to dream. to fantasize. that maybe they could experience an extraordinary love like it is portrayed in films or described in songs. so naturally, as a hopeless romantic yourself, you weren’t any different. you just wanted to experience love—to be loved.

then again, liking someone does count as experiencing romance in a sense. admiring someone with traits the public doesn’t really notice is… rare. but that’s how it always went with you. though you wouldn’t really say that you actually acted upon your feelings, they're usually be gone once that person has stepped out of the current environment you’re in.

that’s how it was before.

vice captain hoshina was a respectable man. he is talented, and he sure as hell knows it. as the ton put it, you and the vice captain had a strange relationship—nobody really knows what to call you two. as the secondary leader of operations and okonogi’s assistant, it was only natural to be in the presence of the vice captain most of the time. but there’s just something different when it comes to how you two treated each other.

from flirtatious remarks and confusing gestures that you aren’t sure if you’re supposed to interpret as romantic, just what were you to the vice captain? you’ve observed long enough that he only does this to you. though you don’t really hate it. in fact, you like it that he’s only like that to you—but you weren’t supposed to like him, you swear! but honestly speaking, how could you not? you had plenty of reasons to like the vice captain in that way. you just pray that no one has really noticed it.

however, okonogi wasn’t stupid. she gets praised for her analytical skills for a reason and you wish she didn’t have to use those skills when it came to your romantic interest in the vice captain of all things. she promised to keep it a secret, though, and keeping secrets is a thing okonogi was really good at (to your surprise).

— — — — — — — — 

the first time hoshina denied his feelings for you was when he overheard some rookies talking about you.

“(l/n) is such a blessing to the third division, don’t you think?” one said as the other hummed in agreement. “i know, right? they’re so nice! did you know that they helped me once? they gave me tips on what i should do to enhance my combat power for my fighting style; it was really helpful too!” the rookie beamed. hoshina had an unsettling feeling churning inside of him as he eavesdropped on the conversation. but he quickly shook it off, thinking that he probably ate something funny earlier.

but why hasn’t he received such treatment from you? you were closer to him than some rookies, right? 

right?

wait, what the hell is wrong with me? hoshina thinks, snapping out of his earlier thoughts. he was not jealous of some rookies. those were just rookies, for christ’s sake! hoshina walks away, only to be greeted by the sight of you and ikaruga talking this time.

“thanks again for the film recommendation the other day, (l/n). i didn’t expect to enjoy it so much—you were completely right! it did suit my preferences,” he excitedly says. hoshina watches silently, observing everything in detail. and one thing he notices is that ikaruga is standing close to you—way too close than he preferred.

“really? i’m glad you liked them, ikaruga. feel free to ask for more film recs when you’re free.” you laughed at his enthusiasm. ikaruga had always been a fun person to converse with, in your opinion. and you two bonded over films! but it was really nothing more than that. “will definitely do!” he replies, giving you a two finger wave as he excuses himself.

he was definitely not jealous. why would he be jealous in the first place? you two were just friends.

and friends don’t get jealous like this.

— — — — — — — — 

the second time was when he was undergoing recovery after the whole fiasco of the tachikawa base raid. everyone was exhausted. it was fortunate that the third division didn’t get any casualties during the incident; the majority of the troops were only injured for the most part. soshiro was counted among the severely injured troops but he doesn’t regret it one bit.

or so he thought.

soshiro wakes up slowly, blinking and squirting his eyes at the sudden brightness of the light above him. he felt a weight on the side of his bed when he tried to get up, as if something (or someone) was pressing down on the blanket. looking down, he wouldn’t mistake your hair for anyone else. he knew it was you with just a glance.

and there you were, sleeping softly on the side of hoshina soshiro’s bed. soshiro takes note of your appearance that he could see right now—which was really just your messy hair. he gets up, making sure that you don’t wake up. it is likely that the operation has not had much sleep up to this point, which is why you ended up sleeping in his hospital room of all places.

he feels bad. a hand slowly reaches out to your head, stroking it ever so gently. if he were to be honest, he was worried for he operations team during the attack. he recalls regularly checking in to see if things were okay on your end, and you kept reassuring him that everyone was unscathed. his other hand reaches out to his phone on his bedside, checking to see if he missed anything. he was unconscious until now, he thinks. and the text from okonogi just confirmed all of his suspicions.

you’re probably still unconscious by the time i sent this, but they’ve been there every day since you got admitted. 

that’s all the message contained. soshiro glances at you again, a soft smile tugging on his lips. he doesn’t get why okonogi felt the need to send him that text, but the thought of you waiting for him to be conscious again made him feel… warm inside. but it all went away as he pulled back his hand from your head as you stirred awake. you raised your head, adjusting yourself to be in a more comfortable position as you rubbed your eyes with your knuckles. 

shock was an understatement when you realized that he was finally awake.

“vice captain! i—sorry, i didn’t mean to sleep on your bed. wait, are you okay? does anything hurt?” he just stared at your eyes, trying to process something. shock was still present in your eyes, and relief was mixed in them too. you noticed him not answering anything you said. worried that he might be suffering from some aftereffects, you asked him again. “uhm… vice captain hoshina?”

he snaps out of it as soon as he hears his name. “sorry, i was just thinking. what were you saying?”

“er… is there something on my face? you’ve been staring at my face the whole time since i woke up…”

hoshina blinks once. twice. then thrice. before he focuses his gaze on something else, looking away from you. you held back a laugh at the sight of red tinting his ears as he apologized for his actions. 

“i’m glad you’re alright, vice captain.”

hoshina freezes. he didn’t expect those words to have a bigger impact on him than they do now. but this is all natural, isn’t it? friends worry about each other. friends wish and hope that the other is okay.

yet why does he feel bitter when he labels this as something that friends—no, snap out of it. he thinks.

“i’m glad you’re alright too.”

— — — — — — — — 

the third time was when you were sent to work to the first division of all places. he was completely against it, of course, but he doesn’t have any concrete reason to actually protest against it. 

it was quite boring to not have you there. he didn’t really have anyone to disturb anymore. and the sudden change in the vice captain’s demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed by the platoon leaders. sure, he still had the same toothy grin on his lips, with his fang peeking out ever so often but deep down, you can’t really point out if it was genuine.

after all, hoshina soshiro was good at concealing his emotions and thoughts.

but then again, okonogi wasn’t stupid. it pains her to be the one who’s stuck between the vice captain and her subordinate. soshiro was the same as the night he didn’t get to neutralize kaiju no. 8 back then. shoulder slumped, arms crossed, a slight pout on his lips, and an expression that clearly stated he was pondering about something—or perhaps someone?

“you miss them, don’t you?” okonogi suddenly asks as she organizes the paperwork in front of her. working with hoshina when it came to paperwork wasn’t really new, except for this time because you would also be present in times like these. “miss who?” he decided to play dumb (or is the right term indenial?)

“please don’t make me spell it out for you, vice captain.” she replied, pushing up her glasses.

hoshina doesn’t reply, zoning out as he thinks about okonogi’s words. well, it wasn’t really false that your sudden absence had changed things in the vice captain’s usual routine. he doesn’t see you making a cup of coffee after he finishes training in the middle of the night. nor does he see you drowning yourself in research at the library when you’re not in the operations room, where soshiro would personally lend you a hand and provide his own insights on whatever you’re researching.

oh. 

oh.

he does miss you.

but that’s just normal, right? friends miss each other. and friends tend to leave sometimes but they will always come back when the time is right. however, the head of operations for the third division didn’t have to be some kind of genius to put two and two together. 

the vice captain has some sort of interest in you as well; he just hasn’t realized it himself.

— — — — — — — — 

the day you returned from the first division was the day everything went back to normal for soshiro.

it was currently a quarter after one in the morning, and he had just finished his training. he ended up going more overtime than usual, but if he hadn't, he probably would’ve missed the open door to the library at this hour. and of course, being the ever so curious man he is, he takes a peek in.

and again, there you were. but this time, you were drowning yourself again in research. your hair was a bit messy, and the eyebags doesn’t go unnoticed by him. yet in spite of that, soshiro still found your appearance to be lovely. maybe it was just the fatigue from his training, or perhaps it’s the thought of you being so determined in your work that sparked such a thought in him.

regardless of what the reason actually was, soshiro found your appearance lovely despite it all.

“you should head to bed soon.” he says, approaching the table you were currently working on. you looked up, surprised to see him awake at this hour. but you put your focus back on your work, not even giving him a second glance—which surprised the vice captain. he reads on whatever you were working on, noticing that they were mostly reports of kaiju no. 9. 

“researching on kaiju no. 9, i see. need a hand?”

“there’s just something off about him and i can’t put my finger on it. also thanks, but no thanks. i can handle this myself, vice captain.”

“it’s almost two in the morning, are you sure about that?”

he didn’t quite catch on to what your reply was, but he was positive that you just declined his offer either way. hoshina decides to pull up the chair beside you and grab the small stack of reports in front of you. he rotates the lamp a bit in his direction, but just enough to leave some light for you to read as well if you needed to.

you sigh at him. “vice captain, you really don’t have to—”

“but i want to. it’s the least i could do.”

truth be told, you really can’t bring yourself to be in the presence of the vice captain now. everything was just confusing. you were aware that the vice captain doesn’t really like paperwork in general (who even likes paperwork in the first place?) but you don’t get why he’s so insistent on helping you every time he finds you here.  

you don’t get why he likes your company so much. you considered yourself to be plain, a bit mundane for someone to actually spend some time with. especially when your interests don’t really spark any others for the most part. 

and while you may be a hopeless romantic, you weren’t foolish. even if you like the vice captain who’s currently making an effort to help you with your work, he’s just way out of your league. he’s too high to reach, and you were sure as hell that he would never actually look at you in that way. not now, not ever.

but why? why does a part of you keep saying that maybe he does? he wouldn’t do all of that if he didn’t actually look at you in that way, right? hope is a dangerous thing for someone who doesn’t know how to stop. for someone like you who refuses to give up on most occasions. it was stupid. foolish. naive.

not now, not ever would hoshina soshiro actually look at you that way.

“vice captain, please get some rest.”

“i could say the same to you.”

god, why is this man so stubborn? is he not tired from all the late night training he does? you thought, slowly getting frustrated. hoshina tells you his observations based on the reports in his hands and shares his hypothesis on the matter. he had some valid points and he’s lending a great hand at the moment. but frustration was just getting the best of you at the moment from your numerous trains of thought.

“the fact that he can adapt so easily is scary in itself. and the recent report of him breaking in the operations room in the first division states that—”

“why are you doing this?” you cut him off.

hoshina stares at you, dumbfounded at your question. he opens his mouth to answer, but no words actually come out of him. he chuckles bitterly in his mind. soshiro would like an answer to that question as well. but then it dawned on him. every flashed across his mind in seconds, and he finally realized it.

yet the result of that still scared him.

he was in love. hoshina soshiro is in love—with you nonetheless. the person he swore was just a friend. it took him quite a while to realize it, always being in denial that it was just normal for friends to act the way you two were. but he was in love. and that scared him. because what is he supposed to do when he finally realizes that you have consumed him? he never wanted this to happen, not in a million years.

but perhaps he was in love with you long before he started tripping along the lines of being friends and something more.

why are you doing this? your question echoed in his head. because i love you, he swallows back down his throat. he can’t say it. there’s no way things would work out. he could die any day and he’d rather not see you miserable because of his death. it would be better if you found someone else—but how ironic. he couldn’t really handle the thought of you being with someone else in the first place.

why are you doing this? your question echoes again. “because i love you.” he finally says, hesitant even. hesitant to know what you’re reaction was going to be. your eyes went wide at the sudden confession, and hoshina was certain that you wouldn’t believe him (well, he couldn’t really believe it either). “you’re kidding me,” you replied.

“i’m not.”

and surely enough, the look on the vice captain’s eyes said it all. he was dead serious. "i... why?” it's ten past two in the fucking morning, and you were too scared to accept that all of this was occurring right now, so you were afraid to ask. you were too scared to just randomly wake up and realize that maybe it was all a dream. too scared to believe that your feelings are being reciprocated.

“because you’re different—different to me, if that makes sense. it’s like you have this effect when it comes to me. food tastes better whenever i share a meal with you; my day just feels more peaceful whenever i get to see you’re doing fine, and i realized that maybe i haven’t actually looked at you like a friend or coworker for as long as i can remember; i was just too stupid to realize it earlier.” he avoids his gaze for a moment before looking at you again.

“i love you. i want you to look at me and love me too. we’ve come too far to turn back. i’m already too deep into you.”

you were speechless. 

he loves you. he loves you. he loves you. it repeated like some sort of chant inside of your head as you processed everything. hoshina soshiro loves you back—who would’ve thought? you hadn’t realized that he was sitting so close to you. the tension was so thick, but you easily cut it down as you started with your response.

“you’re an amazing man, vice captain, and i truly cannot grasp how you could feel such feelings towards me, but i love you too.” you could see hoshina jump in his seat in shock at your confession, but you continued. “i love you in ways you have never been loved, for reasons that you may not have been told, for longer than you think you deserve and with more than you will ever know existed inside of me. yet i can’t help but still wonder… how? why? wait no, why was already answered—”

he chuckles at you. stopping you with your words. “what’s so funny?” you pouted at him. “it’s nothing. i just can’t believe that we’re seriously having this moment at two in the morning.”

“sorry, i think that may have been on my part. i kind of snapped there because i was just so… confused.”

“confused?”

“yeah, confused if we’ve crossed the line between friends or lovers without actually realizing it. crazy, right?”

hoshina moves a bit closer to you, making the distance between the two of you smaller than before. he puts his forehead against yours. “not really, but i look at you, and i just love you, and it terrifies me. it terrifies me what i would do for you. i’m in love but i’m also terrified—that’s what i think is crazy.”

“then let’s be terrified together,” you whispered to him.

a soft laugh leaves his lips this time. “i like the sound of that.” he whispers back.

he loves you.

and you love him back.

that’s all what matters.

love, in general, can make you feel all sorts of things. joy, confusion, anger, fear, and many more. it can also make you do all sorts of things. it can make you do things you never really imagined doing for or with someone in the first place. it tends to be irrational—ridiculous, even. but the thought of doing all of it for the person you care most about? you finally realized that’s simply what love is all about for you.

to love is something you truly cannot name.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

HII, saw your post on wanting asks, well here 🫶 I love talking so, and specifically on playboy yandere!! I'm a sucker for angst and yanderes falling into insanity honestly, so let me ramble a bit

- imagine if reader graduates highschool and gets an overseas scholarships!! They also convince their family to move together with them so Kameron can't hurt or use them to blackmail reader. So with only a break up text saying like "bye manwhore 😍😍", blocking and deleting all their social media, I wonder how long and how far would he take to get reader back again? Would he inherit his parent's riches, hire some private investigatiors to find reader and find the country they're living in, expand his business over to their country in order to gain power to trap his darling. And I wonder how deranged his reaction would be to reader's text and be like no way, they're joking right, and runs to their house and whatever usual spots they're at normally, and just break down into insanity. would he try to use substitutes for reader to maintain his sanity or go fully devoid of emotions and start working hard to gain power and influence to find reader again!! I'm also curious how he would process his darling leaving him, would he become delusional first, saying they got kidnapped or something, or some ex or fling of his hurt reader, and then proceed to anger, depression, grief and then finally accept the reality!!

Ok that's a lot of rambling 😭😭 hope it's okay. I rlly enjoyed that fic, was rent FREE in my mind for a whole day

you know luci, you just gave me an idea. So have a part TWO of THIS DUMBASS HOE 🤝

Yandere playboy x reader

Tw: mentions of murder, kameron being delulu, yandere and obsessive behavior

💋kameron was having another breakdown. Sobbing pathetically on the floor of your old bedroom. Just how did you run away? And on such short notice too!? Didn't his love mean anything to you!? WHY DID YOU ABANDON HIM?

💋a million thoughts swirled through his head, until he finally got one that just... stuck. He had to get you back. No matter how long it takes. Getting up and dusting himself off, he kicked the front door open and quickly left the empty house

💋it was a shame really. The once sane and popular boy was struggling to keep his image. So he got help. Not professional as in therapists and medication. Just hiring other students to cover for him Incase he slipped up. all while snooping through the head teachers computer to see if they had any notes on where you might have gone. He almost got caught a few times

"shit that was close.. i can't believe these idiots leave their passwords just anywhere"

💋he knew he shouldn't be back at the school, especially since he graduated but he needs all the information he can get. Eventually moving onto private investigators and online stalking through multiple other accounts. He'd try anything just to see what his darling was doing without him. Were you enjoying making him suffer? You're so cruel..

💋hiring other people to befriend you and lower your guard, gathering any Information they can

💋 kameron who spent a while convincing his parents to let him take hold of the company. He had a degree, a bright mind, responsibility. He's perfect for the job! Oh if only they knew where his 60% was going.. funding multiple businesses across the world in exchange for keeping a careful eye. Making him quite the celebrity

💋look darling! He's on the news-! ...oh right you're not here.. one evening, while working in his office, a new secretary comes in to introduce themselves. They look just like you! He could only stare in shock.

"my love..? Is that you!?"

"..who?"

💋turns out it was just a doppelganger. But with enough time he'd delude himself into thinking it was you. Courting them with the same flowers, chocolates and jewelry he'd given you. It worked like a charm! Now you were back In their arms again. They felt whole..

💋he married your lookalike a year later, the poor fool being too naive and oblivious to think. He was happy for awhile.. or until one of his P.I's came in to show him they found you. His reality started to break.

💋no.. how could he do this to you. Replacing you with some cheap street whore. That night, when they went to bed, he gave them a cup of water and smiled sweetly. Watching as their face went red and they started to cough for air after gulping it down. Clawing at the sheets and staring at him with wide fearful eyes. Begging him to help them

"...slut."

💋 burrying the body in his backyard, he paid people with underground connections to cover for him while he was away. Claiming they suddenly vanished, having run away with a small fortune. How idiotic are people, to actually believe him..

💋kameron disguised himself and went straight for the country you decided to flee too. 5 years apart from you.. he had no idea how he managed to live so long without his beloved, but it was all worth it. Because now you'll be back where you belong. In his arms.

💋you were busy working at your job, running a small business was no joke but atleast the people in the area were friendly. So you didn't notice the suited figure Infront of your cash register

"thank you, please come again-"

💋you froze, looking up at the terrifyingly familiar face. He stared back at you with only glee and love

"hello my darling~ you've been on a naughty streak for a while Haven't you? That's okay, I'll just set you straight when we go back home."

💋big burly men all blocked you from escaping by guarding the doors. Dragging all the other customers out so you both could have your moment. Now you could never leaver leave him. Ever.

[blackberries45]

Okayy I’m back haha, thank you so much for your response and absolutely please don’t feel pressured to if you’re not comfortable but could I request Beetlejuice just like talking you through it and giving praise😭😭 I’m a sucker for him honestly 🖤

Sooooo absolutely just ignore this if it's not what you asked for and or sucks 🤣 I am so sorry this took so long and also that it turned into a short fic. Thank you so much for asking this 🖤

I'd also like thank @hederasgarden for letting me kinda circle and be encouraging. @liquidloz and @84reedsy for reading it and saying it wasn't trash and @the--blackdahlia for fixing the crazy amount of formatting errors and weirdness because I got on a roll finally and everything went out the window.

Brava Ragazza

Notes: I'm terrified to read it again because I'll probably delete it from over thinking, so best of luck 😅

Warnings: smut, thigh riding, praise

🖤💜💚🖤💜💚🖤💜💚🖤💜💚🖤💜💚

You sat on the floor staring at the TV. It had been too long of a day, and you were completely vegging out now. Your elbows were resting on your coffee table, and your head was between your hands. You couldn't even tell what was actually on because you were just staring at this point. A solid hour had probably gone by, and you hadn’t moved a muscle. You did know instantly, however, when he was sitting behind you on the couch.

 “Hey,” it was so blasé. “Do you need something?” you asked him without even turning around.

 “No, but you do. Make me stick around for a minute."

 “Ok,” you said, still staring at the TV and not really giving it much thought. You melted yourself down so your head was just resting on your arm across the table as you lazily said his name three times. Now you were aware you were watching Friends, sideways. 

Not caring to reposition, you started speaking without much thought. “I'm surprised you're around today. You seemed rather jealous of that guy I had over a few nights ago.” 

Before you had time to realize what was happening, your head was being yanked backward by your ponytail into Beetlejuice’s crotch, now looking upside down at him. He blew a puff of smoke in your face. 

“I don't get jealous babes. Now come up here so I can show you why,” he released your head but you were sitting back up too slowly for him. Snap! You were suddenly straddling his left thigh. The quick motion caught you off guard and your arms fell forward to grab his shoulders to steady yourself. His eyebrow raised in amusement, 

“You good?” he asked as he slightly turned his head to take another drag of his cigarette. “Now here's what's going to happen,” he slowly blew out the smoke. “I'm going to have you grind yourself as hard as you can into my thigh. I'm going to show you why I can do more just sitting here than that little shit could have done with his whole body.” 

“But Beej, I didn't even sleep with him!” You started to protest. 

“Yeah honey but you wanted to.” The protest on your face quickly dropped, you know he was right. You didn't really care about the guy you honestly by that point just wanted to get off but it never worked out. He was way too annoying and the embarrassment the next morning wouldn't have been worth it. You started to protest again but this time your voice came out quietly 

“I think I'm too heavy to be on  you like this and..” 

“The fuck you talking about? I'm literally a..” 

“And also,” you interrupted him, “This is really exposing. And we haven't even done anything before. I honestly didn't even know you could do anything” That sent him into the ultimate rage. He snapped again and you were naked except for your bra. “Oh my god!” You started to push yourself up to get off him but he grabbed you by the waist and slammed you back down onto his thigh. The instant hard pressure against your pubic bone sent tiny sparks up to your stomach, but you started to say his name in protest again. “Beetle…” Snap! Your mouth was sewn shut. 

“Oh no honey, we are way past that.” His eyes went from blue to dark stormy gray. “Move!” you looked at him with giant wide eyes and slightly shook your head. He got it now. You weren't protesting because it was him. You just didn't know what to do.

“Oh! You are such a good girl that you haven't done something like this before, is that it?” you nodded your head but also gave away with your eyes that you liked when he called you a good girl. He picked up on it instantly. He slowly looked at you from your exposed flesh on his striped suit-covered pant leg, all the way up to your eyes, and then stared into them intently.

 “I want you to move your hips and grind down like I’m fucking you.” Your eyes widened and your cheeks wet dark red. He put his hand up to your cheek and rubbed his thumb across your bottom lip stitches, as he softened his eyes for a split second before commanding.  “Move.”

You swallowed harshly as his hand left your cheek and rested on your hip bone. The sensation of his cool hand on what felt like your now burning skin helped you to get a little nerve back. 

You held onto his shoulders as you started to just slowly move your hips. Beej slightly leaned back again against the couch making it harder for you to hold on to his shoulders, causing you to lean more forward. This caught the front of you right up against him where you hadn't felt yet. A little noise escaped your throat.  

“You're being such a good girl for me,” Beetlejuice sneered. A cigarette appeared back in his hand again. He could tell that it was hitting your clit this time and how hard you were trying not to let your eyes show it. His grip on your hip grew harder and he started pushing you back and pulling you forward, setting a pace for you to match. As tiny noises started coming up your throat, he started to darkly and lowly laugh. 

Annoyance at your circumstance and now him laughing at it caused you to let go of his shoulders. Your right hand landed right between the crease of his leg and pelvis. You squeezed him, causing him to jerk slightly. Your left hand reached for his tie. Gripping it and yanking him to your face you glared at him. With your mouth still stitched shut and your eyelids heavy, half from the heat that was building in you and half from the hatred you had for Beej at the moment, you almost looked as menacing as he did. The whole thing however was getting Beetlejuice more and more turned on. 

You tried to tell him something, but all that came out was mumbled through your shut mouth. 

Beej snapped as he kept staring into your eyes, inches away from you. You leaned your head back and breathed a deep breath through your mouth and into your legs as you got the courage to look at him again and say, “please help me”.

The look he gave you was probably the same one he had given others right before he killed them. But for you, it was something completely different. 

“Thought you’d never ask” He steadied you with the hand still on your hip, but gently moved his free hand down your stomach. He was cold, but his ring was colder. He was giving you time to anticipate what was coming, but also giving himself a moment, as he was easily going to come any minute at the site of you like this.

His hand slowly turned and his long middle finger found the spot you needed. Again, the coldness of him against your rubbed raw hot flesh added to everything. A slight whimper escaped your lips as you leaned forward and rested your forehead against his. You closed your eyes and heard Beej whisper, “Good girl,” again. He moved his hand forward slightly so he could use more of your wetness. He pumped his fingers into you a few times and then slid his middle finger back to where you needed it. You couldn't help moving your hips to the same patterns as he was circling you. 

After a few minutes, your legs were getting tired and your breathing labored. He could tell and knew he had to make you come or you'd be too tired to get there. 

“Please…” you whispered as he started making faster circles. His pants were now starting to get wet spots forming from you but also where he was starting to pre cum as well. “Can't you just help me please?” You were getting desperate and whiny. He knew he could get you there in this position, it would just take a second more.

”I will gladly fuck you anytime and anywhere babe,”  he let out a groan, “but right now is about you… and you're being… such a good girl…” His words were getting desperate as well. He knew if he could get you off that he would get off too. 

With your foreheads still touching, and your eyes still closed, Beej nuzzled your nose and then put his lips against yours. You kept your eyes tightly shut so you could concentrate on all the different movements and sensations at once. Just as you started to kiss him back, he put as much pressure as he could against you, causing you to grind as hard as you could into his fingers and thigh. 

“Good girl,” He whispered again after he broke the kiss., causing your eyes to flutter open momentarily before you closed them as he crashed against your lips again. Your moans were escaping into his mouth as he deepened the kiss and somehow got faster and faster with his movements until you both couldn't keep up with your making out and you were both bursting.

Your head dropped to his shoulder, panting as his eyes were rolling back and his head flopped against the back of the couch. His movements slowed down instead of ending abruptly. And when you stopped rocking your hips, he removed his hand and brought it to your lips. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, amazed at your own willingness to continue to please him. He stuck his fingers in your mouth gently to clean your juices off of him. Putting your lips around them, he pumped them a few times in and out, his ring hitting your lips as he pushed them back in. When he was finished and pulled them out, you gently rolled yourself off his thigh and onto the couch next to him. He snapped for your clothing to come back and then snapped again for a blanket. Resting your head on his shoulder, he turned to you and cupped your face, the ring still freezing against your cheek. He gave you a smirk before his quiet words hit your ears.  

“Brava ragazza.”

[11rosebunny]

hi! could I request bofurin boys getting patched up from their s/o after a fight?

Patching them up after a fight (BOFURIN)

Haruka Sakura

He's learned how to heal his wounds in the past years after spending majority of his life alone. He would rather die than to get yelled at by someone looking after him so he taught himself how to clean up his gashes and bloody bruises on his body.

Earlier in the day, he was caught up in an unexpected fight and his opponent managed to get a cheap shot on him when someone was distracting him. He's not going to lie—it hurt like a bitch when his fist made contact with his already wounded cut on his jawline.

Afterwards, when the fight is done, he apologizes that you had to wait for him a little longer than usual after school. But the moment you took in the prominent gash on his face, you nearly dropped your duffel bag to the floor.

You yelled at him for being so reckless to which he clicked his tongue and took away your bag to hold it for you when he walks you home. However, you ultimately refused to leave him like this, so now here you are in an alleyway cleaning up the wound on his face with bandages and hydrogen peroxide you two bought from the local drug store.

He already tried to stop you by saying he was going to take care of it home, but you were too persistent (and pissed) so you continued to heal him anyways.

The whole time, he can't look you in the eye, afraid he might give into his intrusive thoughts to bite the shit out of you. He's blushing and worrying someone might see the both of you.

"Hurry up...!" His foot is tapping up and down quickly out of nervousness.

He refuses to look you in the eye and remains staring at the opening of the alleyway where you two walked in.

In pettiness, you pressed the cotton ball on his gash harder than before making him jitter on the wooden crate he sat on with wide eyes.

"You be quiet and wait until I'm done!"

"Tch! Whatever!"

Hajime Umemiya

"Ah, seriously [Name]. You know I can do this by myself..." He smiled softly as he watched you bandage his thick fingers.

He was beaten up badly—not that he did a bad job in the fight he was in earlier but when going into combat, he does slip up especially if he's ganged up on, which is what happened earlier.

Usually, he doesn't mind healing his own wounds and is completely fine if someone else does it for him. He's even let a kid put a bandaid on him when he bumped into the little sucker which caused him to bump his knee on a metal pipe.

But when you two scheduled a stay at home date, he shows up to your house holding his jacket that draped behind his back, covered in scratches and cuts.

"Sorry I'm late, I was caught up earlier with something." He says with a weak smile.

You hold your door in front of him stupidly as he begins to sweat drop at your stare.

Eventually, you do let him in and you lead him to your bedroom. He explains that he was caught up in a fight as he placed his jacket on your chair then sitting on your bed.

You sigh not turning around to face him. It was obvious you were disappointed. "Yeah I can already tell."

He laughs with a regretful smile watching you go through your desk and find the bandages, cotton balls, and medical tape.

He's already aware that you don't have any right to be doing this, there's a hint of guilt shoved down his throat when you let out a sigh and bring your hands to yours to wrap them up. At the same time, you and him create small talk; forcing him to tell you why he got into a fight making him let out a throaty laugh.

But a part of him finds you cute for that. The way you're willing to patch him up, even when you're upset at him. He likes seeing the size difference with your hand and his. His fingers are extremely calloused from him gardening and throwing punches all the time—while your hands are smooth and gentle against his skin. He doesn't say anything to aggravate you more, so instead, he lets you heal him with a warm smile on his face.

Toma Hiragi

He's gone through multiple fights with not a single person laying a finger on him, so it's rare for you to ever see him come to you all beaten up.

Sure he has a rough exterior and sharp features, but even a sturdy guy like him can get knocked over. He's quite pissed that he let something like that ever happen and is embarrassed to say the least. When you ask him where he is and what's taking him so long, he ignores your messages and tries to patch up himself up quickly before returning to you.

He's rather die than to let you see him like this. When he finishes taking care of his wounds, you can tell with the way the bandages hang loosely, the cuts that peek out near the ends of the tape, and the way his clothing is all dirtied up, you can tell he tried hiding that from you.

"...You look like a mess."

He jumps at your accusation, "The hell are ya talkin' about?!"

You end up pointing out the poor job he did at putting the bandages on his body. He opens his mouth to cover it up right away, but in a second he stops himself, he knows he would be lying if he fought back.

He's embarrassed, way too embarrassed.

He shuts his eyes closed when you end up patching the wounds yourself. He didn't even clean them beforehand when he came to you. The entire time, he's felt like his ego is knocked down when you two went into a secluded field of grass with items to help with the gashes all over his face.

To you though, it's funny. The way he tries to fall asleep in hopes that your remarks will all be over soon. At the same time, he's blushing and looking away when you take his face with both hands.

"Yer' doin' too much."

"I'm doing too much?" You repeat looking into his eyes to which he quickly looks away.

"Tch. Gonna be the death of me..." He mumbled the last part.

Taiga Tsugeura

Dating him was probably the most responsibility you've ever had in your life.

It's happened before, the routine of you and him planning to meet up at your house turns into him coming home to you all scratched up and you taking it upon yourself to heal his wounds.

He still feels extremely guilty upon watching you roll your eyes at him and forcing him to sit down on your bed in front of you to clean up his wounds. While he's at it, he continues on to share about what happened to him and why he's all bruised. He explains it like a kid trying to justify why his clothes are all ruined. He's honestly scared if you start scolding him about being more careful.

Mitsuki Kiryu

After he gets into a pretty big fight, he returns to you as if he's prancing about his day.

You're shocked to say the least. The way his bluntness is plastered all over his face while you deadpan him when he goes on to talk about the melonpan that is currently on sale at the nearest convenience store. You blink at him repeatedly as if he's not aware of the state he's in right now. You have to be the one to point out the huge gash on his elbow that began to stain the white patterned button up shirt he was wearing.

"Oh! I forgot." He says as if the fight he was in earlier didn't mean anything.

He laughs at the way you yell at him for being stupid before you two make it back to his house. Instantly, he tells you where he keeps all his medical things and then you instruct him to go wash up first then meet you in his room.

He takes it as a reward after winning his fight. He can't really use his phone when you're practicing sitting on top of him to clean up the cut on his eyebrow that ended up bloodying his piercing. To you, it seems like he's enjoying this too much, even going as far to rocking in the chair he's sitting on and spinning it from side to side. He finds it extremely nice to see you like this—so worried and so scared for him.

There's a small part of him that wants to break a bone next time to see how you'd react.

Hayato Suo

There's really no way of arguing with him. Right off the bat, when you throw texts at him, angered at how he hasn't responded in the last hour, he comes back to you shortly after and texts back without much warning.

From: Hayato Suo

Sorry [Name] , I was out with Sakura and we got into a fight ヾ(＾∇＾)

Sent at 4:47PM

From: You

WHAT

Sent at 4:48PM

You rush to his school but when you're half way there, you bump into him on the same path that leads back to your house, meaning, he was going to you either way. You're in shock and out of breath at his state. You've never seen him that beaten up before and when he looks at you, he quickly changes his surprised expressions to his usual soft smile.

"That was quick—"

"Idiot!"

You drag him back to your house and disgracefully throw him onto your couch. The entire time, he finds it amusing watching your shaken character reach for your cabinets in desperation to heal him up quickly.

It was the first time he's ever been in a fight for that long. Usually, he's able to take down opponents within minutes and goes on to tell you about it afterwards. But the fact that it took him nearly more than one hour, you're terrified when it's the first time you've seen him the most beaten up.

You're frantic, basically begging him to tell you what happened when you're healing his wounds. At this rate, it turns into an interrogation while he answers every question you have with the right amount of explanation.

He seems far too happy when you clean up his wounds, normally it would be him healing you since he's able to go through fights without getting hit once, so when he feels your soothing touch and the way you clean every wound with precision and gentleness, he's shocked at how skilled you can be.

"I wasn't aware that you know how to heal wounds." He says raising a brow with curiosity. A small smile is formed on his lips watching you wince your eyes.

"No, of course not...! I was just worried for you!" You answer back feeling your ears go red. He surely knows how to make you lose your mind.

He stifles out a laugh, "Just teasing..." He says sticking out his tongue slightly.

[hanafubukki]

I'm a sucker for the "kissing scars" scenario and I just saw your tag about Lilia having them and now I can't stop thinking about it!!! aaaaaaaaAAAAAAAA

[about this post]

YOU AND ME BOTH ANONIE YOU AND ME BOTH AHHHH 🫂🫂💞💞

I headcanon that Lilia has scars. I mean how can he not? He fought in war. He was shocked by thunder. There is no way he doesn’t have scars. Inflicted on him or through training, he has them.

Look at his outfit? Love the outfit. Chef kiss. Sexy sexy fae. But you can’t tell me that armor will protect him from everything (unless it’s magicked?? Or something?? 🤔)

His general outfit is more speed and brunt force attack than defense (from what I can tell) so he has to have had some injuries.

I can see Lilia hide his scars with magic. He didn’t want his boys to worry. Even now, centuries later, he can feel them.

The pain has dulled but it’s still there, some days it hurts more than others. But he sees the smiles in front of him and he’s know each one was worth it. For this moment right in front of him.

When he attends NRC, the diasomnia uniform covers them without issue, and the moments they aren’t? A little magic will do the trick. Beside, he looks cuter this way, wouldn’t you say?

Can you imagine then? The vulnerability of him revealing these scars to you? You running your hands over them? Feeling the uneven skin.

Some scarred red as if new; some darkened with time. All of different sizes. Some too close to places that, for anyone else, would have been fatal.

Can you imagine then? Taking those hands and kissing them? Each and every scar? Can you imagine kissing the scars on his back. Those over his heart? The one by his neck, any deeper it would have spelled his end.

Imagine running ointments over his scars. Him blissfully sleeping. Lilia waking up refreshed for once in many years.

Aches nearly gone. All these years he had kept them hidden, managed the pain on his own, but with you; he has finally been able to rest and recover in a way he hasn’t in a long time.

He finally allowed himself to be vulnerable.

I can see Lilia, after book 7, not hide it anymore. There’s no point. The truth is known and he would rather reserve his magic than waste it.

He might not show it out in the open but in the dorm? In his room? When he’s with family and you? He doesn’t hide it anymore.

His scars are a part of him. They spoke of his past. It spoke of his sacrifices. A constant reminder of what led to his present.

It’s something he doesn’t need to hide anymore.

Not now and not ever again.

He is Lilia Vanrouge, the one who loves his family.

[bigdumbbambieyes]

for @thissortofsorcery, who wanted more Billy with a belly button piercing (hehe) and inspired by @robthegoodfellow's amazing tags!!

nsfw

The first time he sees it, it's on accident, and he's not entire sure what he sees.

He's about six beers and two shots deep, so his eyes aren't really focusing as he catches a glimpse of Hargrove's stomach, perfectly toned because he's a fucking asshole, but the peek of silver around his belly button had caught Steve's wandering eye.

They're in Tommy's backyard with a dozen of other people he can't remember the names of, but Billy had invited him so he had gone, and Tommy had glared at him the entire night but also hadn't approached him because the guy clearly doesn't care enough. Which, admittedly, hurts Steve because they had been friends for forever, but not anymore.

But, it's whatever. Hargrove has taken a liking to him and Steve's not about to pass up on someone he can have decent conversations with - even if the guy irritates him to no end.

And, apparently, intrigues him.

Billy had raised his arms in a stretch once he stood up from his chair by the campfire, groaning out a soft sound as Steve had eyed him from above the rim of his cup, the beer catching in his throat as he saw the quick reflection of something shiny on Billy's belly button.

There was no way, right? He's seen plenty of girls with their belly buttons pierced. It was a girl piercing. No guy he's ever known has ever had one.

Until Billy, it seems.

And Steve, as he coughs up a lung and tries to soothe the burn with more beer, thinks back to the times where Billy wore his shirt unbuttoned almost down to his navel, and he'd never seen them before. He's met up with Billy after his shift at the pool, when he wore his cropped Everlast shirt, and there hadn't been anything there except a dark blond happy trail.

It has to be new. Recent.

"You good, princess?" Billy asks him suddenly, his brows furrowed.

His eyes watery from coughing, Steve nods and waves him off, watching the blond roll his eyes and go back inside for another drink.

There's no way, right? 🖤 It's been a week and Steve can't stop thinking about it.

He has to make sure he wasn't just seeing anything or else it'll eat him alive.

So, he calls up Billy that weekend, asking, "You wanna come over for a swim? Maybe some beers, too?"

"I worked at the pool all day, the last thing I want is to fuckin' swim, Harrington. How about we just have some beers? Maybe take them over to Heather's?" Billy offered cooly, like he wasn't ruining Steve's perfectly laid out plans.

Pursing his lips, Steve covered up his indignant huff by palming the bottom of his phone before transferring it to his other ear, saying, "Yeah, I suppose we could."

Because he was a sucker for Billy. He couldn't help it.

"I'll pick you up in twenty, be ready."

The line went dead and Steve huffed again.

🖤

A couple days later, he's finally got Billy at his house, but his parents are home. Not that they're going to ruin his plans or anything, but his parents actually enjoy Billy's company, so they ask him to stay for dinner and who is Billy to decline such a generous offer?

His dad's barbecuing in the back and he and Billy are chatting about something regarding sports while Steve helps his mom prepare the table. He had immediately noticed Billy's new shirt when the guy arrived, a soft light green t-shirt, tightly fitted - and if Steve could only get a damn glance at his stomach, he might be able to see the shape of it through the fabric.

It's almost comical how much stuff gets in the way: Billy's standing behind the barbecue, his dad is in front of him when they come in with food, his mother passes his father the salad bowl just as Billy goes to sit at the table.

He kinda wants to scream.

And again, Billy asks him, "Everything alright, Steve?" Because he's Steve in front of his parents.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he smiles tightly, their eyes locking for a moment, and there's something shining in Billy's blue eyes.

After dinner, when they've had their full and it's time for Billy to go, he watches the blond pat his stomach and keep his hand there as he stands, thanking the Harringtons for the meal.

Steve manages another tight smile as his parents tell Billy to come back soon.

🖤

A couple guys they know from school are playing basketball at the park when he and Billy drive by a couple days later, and Billy glances over at him with a grin, saying, "Wanna join them?"

Steve stares at him for a moment before flicking his gaze over to the guys on the court, noticing that they're shirts vs skins. And knowing Billy, he'll want to take off his shirt.

Oh, yeah. This will work.

"Sure," he hums, playing it cool.

They park and head over, standing on the sidelines until Patrick stops dribbling the ball and asks them, "You two come to join?"

"Yeah, thought maybe you'd want some actual competition, McKinney," Billy smirks, grinning when Jason gives him a glare for his smart mouth.

"Alright," Patrick nods with a smile, "Harrington, you're skins."

Steve feels his shoulders drop, and he glances at Billy, figuring he'd say something like 'nah, let's switch' but Billy just looks at him, quirking an expectant brow.

"You gonna strip or what, Harrington?" Billy asks with a leer.

Sighing, Steve rolls his eyes and pulls the bottom of his shirt over his head.

🖤

It's gotta be on purpose, right? Steve's suffering from some kind of karma that he doesn't deserve. How fucking hard is it to catch Billy Hargrove without a goddamn shirt?

He has Billy's aviators from the other day and he's on his way to Cherry Lane to return them, his thumb tapping his steering wheel as he replays the memory of that simple little lift of Billy's shirt that started all of this. It's honestly infuriating how unlucky he's been.

And he knows he could just ask, but there's no dignity in that. Billy would just tease him about it and never show it.

When he pulls up to the Hargrove house, Billy's outside mowing the lawn, in shorts and a white tank top. He's sweating a bit, his face so unfortunately attractively flushed. His lips go red whenever he's working out too hard and Steve can't help but to stare at them.

He shuts off his car and gets out, calling, "Billy!" over the sound of the mower.

Billy looks up, squinting in the sunlight, and shuts off the mower. He smiles at Steve, in that mean way he does, and shouts back, "Miss me so bad you had to come and track me down, Stevie?"

He's Stevie when Billy's teasing him, when they're alone.

Steve leans against his car and holds up the aviators, "Figured you'd want these back, asshole."

The smile that blooms on Billy's face is beautiful and he actually says, surprisingly without sarcasm, "You're a goddamn lifesaver."

But, it's not what he says that has Steve freezing in place - it's his hand, going down to the bottom of his shirt, like he's going to lift it to wipe away the little beads of sweat on his forehead, and Steve's breath catches in his throat.

Holy shit. Finally.

His stomach clenches in anticipation, his jaw dropping a little, until he hears a sudden familiar voice screech, "Billy!"

It's Max, on the front porch, with anger written across her face, and Billy's immediately turning to face her, his hand falling to his side, sweat forgotten.

Steve lets out a groan and rests his forehead on his car, closing his eyes as he half listens to the step siblings yelling at each other over something petty.

Goddammit.

He's really at his wit's end.

🖤

It's been two weeks and Steve finds himself at a party on a Friday night, at his wit's end about the whole stupid thing. He can't even talk to Robin about it.

Well, he could, but he doesn't really want to see the look on her face and the deadpanned 'you're such a dingus' she'd say to him.

He knows he's being a dingus, but it's not like he can stop.

What he can do, though, is shoot back some vodka with Carol like they used to in freshman year.

"What, no Billy tonight?" She hums, words just a touch slurred, and he gives her a shrug as he reaches for his half-drunk beer.

"Dunno where he's at," he replies, glancing around the busy room, "Assumed he'd be here."

"You two are, like, attached at the hip these days," she smirks, giving him a look, "What's the deal?"

"No deal," he shrugs again, feeling the vodka warm his belly, "He's just...nice to hang out with, I guess."

"Hm," she hums, giving his arm a pat, "Well, if you wanna know where he is, I saw him go down to the basement like, five minutes ago."

Steve's eyes widen and he immediately looks towards the door leading down to the basement of her house, which is cracked open a little.

He eyes it for a moment before asking, "He take a girl down there?"

"Nope," Carol shakes her head, "Probably went to get more beer, or something."

Maybe he should go check on him.

"Maybe you should go check on him."

He turns and looks down at her, eyeing the impish look on her face, and he doesn't know why it's there or why she's saying that, but he nods anyway.

"Yeah, 'kay," he slurs softly, pushing himself off the counter, his beer left behind there as he makes his way to the door.

The basement is cool, and dark, except for the warm glow of a lamp that he can spot at the bottom of the staircase. He pulls the door closed behind him without meaning to, and slowly descends, hearing the rustling of bottles in the fridge that he knows is down here. Carol's dad had the basement fully finished and furnished for his poker nights a couple years ago, and the fridge in the corner is always fully stocked.

He steps down onto the landing and sways, holding onto the railing as he watches Billy compare two bottles of beer, as if he really prefers either. The best beer is a free beer, and the only thing better than a free beer, is a cold one.

Steve breaks the silence first, saying, "You didn't tell me you'd be here."

Billy glances over at him, surprised, before he recognizes him and then he's smirking, "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd be here anyway, pretty boy."

He's pretty boy when they're alone and Billy's flirting.

Steve feels his face flush, from the alcohol (he tries to convince himself), and he quietly watches Billy put one of the bottles back in the fridge before bringing the other one to his mouth, opening it with his molars, and it makes Steve cringe every single time.

"You're gonna wreck your teeth doing that shit," he mutters, like he does every time.

Billy flicks the cap away with that smug smile still on his face, and like every time, he replies, "Haven't yet."

He watches Billy come over to him, to probably go back upstairs now that he's invaded Mr. Perkins' stash, but he can't help the way his eyes flick down Billy's body.

And his eyes stop at the bottom of Billy's Metallica shirt, which might've shrunk in the wash or something, because it's short than Steve remembers and that's when he sees it.

A shiny metal ball, just peeking out from under the dark fabric.

His heart skips a beat and he doesn't even hesitate to step off the landing and push Billy back against the nearest wall, listening to the soft rush of air as the blond's back hits it a little too hard, but he's smiling like the prick he is, staring down his nose at Steve as he tilts his head back.

"Mm, Stevie, that wasn't very nice," he purrs, and that's when Steve smells the alcohol on his breath, but he doesn't care.

He grabs the bottom of Billy's shirt and rucks it up, his jaw dropping as he breathes out a rush of air, like he's just been punched in the gut.

He wasn't seeing things. He was right.

A silver curved barbell, pierced through Billy's navel, sitting so pretty and perfect just above his happy trail.

"You like it?" Billy hums, arrogant, because he already knows Steve does.

His mouth is too dry to answer, and he can't help it when he begins to touch the skin of Billy's stomach, his dark eyes trained on the piercing as his fingers dance around it, his thumb daring to draw closer and closer until he strokes the barbell, giving it a little tug that has Billy making this sound that goes straight to his cock--

"Fuck," Steve breathes, feeling his cock throb in his jeans, so fucking turned on and he hadn't even known it until he heard Billy make that sound, and now he's arching into Steve's touch, seeking it out, and...and...

He flicks his eyes back up to Billy, sees this look on his face, like he kinda wants to eat Steve alive but also wants to be kissed, so Steve does.

He surges forward and Billy meets him halfway, their mouths meeting in a frenzy, like they can't get there fast enough or close enough. He can hear glass break, knowing it's the beer bottle, but it's forgotten because it's dizzying - the way Billy pushes his tongue into his mouth, not wasting a single moment, groaning into his mouth and it goes straight to his cock again.

His hands go to Billy's waist and he pulls himself against him, tilting his head to suck at Billy's lower lip as he grinds his hips into the blond's, revelling in the choke moan he receives for it.

"Knew you'd be into it," Billy breathes, when Steve kisses down his neck and licks at the cologne there, his skin bitter and salty, and he bites down on the junction between neck and shoulder just to hear Billy moan again.

"Shut up," Steve pants, pouting as he sucks on Billy's neck, and then pauses because--

He pulls back just enough to look at Billy, admires the flush on his face before he says, accusingly, "You knew."

"Of course I knew," Billy chuckles low, his teeth flashing as he grins, "I couldn't help it. It was fun watching you lose your mind over it."

"You're such a fucking brat," Steve growls, fisting a hand in Billy's hair and pulling him into a hard kiss, hearing Billy's chuckling hums turn into soft moans as Steve slides his tongue against Billy's.

He can't help but to imagine a stud there, sliding against his tongue, against his skin, against the tip of his cock--

Billy hooks his leg around Steve's hip and reaches down to grab his ass, pulling their hips together until there's a delicious but restricted friction, the blond growling into his mouth, "Yeah? You gonna do anything about it?"

It's enough of a taunt for Steve to pull them away from the wall and turn them, once again pushing Billy back towards the poker table in the middle of the room, a fire in his blood that Billy notices in his eyes and it has him grinning, flushed and pleased as he crawls back onto the table, letting Steve push him down onto his back.

"You gonna suck my cock like you've been wanting to, princess?" Billy breathes, cocky as always.

"Maybe," Steve hums, pushing Billy's shirt up again to get another look at the piercing there, thumbing over it and giving it a playful little tug that has Billy hissing.

"That hurt?" He asks gently.

"S'fine," Billy hums, licking his lips, "Just got it caught on something this morning, kinda tender..."

"Good," Steve says, pushing the shirt higher with both hands, until he's thumbing at Billy's nipples, feeling them harden under his touch and he watches the pleasure cross Billy's face as he squirms under it, sensitive.

"Wonder how sensitive they'd be if you pierced them, too," he murmurs, feeling his blush spread down to his chest as he images it, silver barbells through each nipple, playing with them until Billy had tears in his eyes, begging him to stop or make him cum.

"Maybe we should find out," Billy sighs, moans when Steve gives them a little pinch, arching into the touch like a girl.

"Maybe we should," he agrees, thumbing over them again as he lowers his mouth, pressing and sucking kisses into Billy's stomach, unable to help himself as his mouth wanders lower, his tongue peeking out to guide the metal ball of the barbell into his mouth, groaning as he closes his mouth around it and gives it a little suck, feeling Billy's hips buck under him as he gasps out, "Steve!"

"Yeah, baby? Feel good?" Steve murmurs as he flicks his tongue over it again, sliding his hands down from Billy's chest and to his jeans, tugging his belt open and kissing lower and lower, nuzzling that happy trail with the tip of his nose as he tugs Billy's jeans down, lower and lower until his cock is out and Steve can feel it bump his chin.

He's like a man starved, opening his mouth wide and taking Billy's cock onto his tongue, moaning at the taste of him, salty and bitter like cologne and he still fucking puts it on his dick, the freak, but it's too good and he doesn't even care at this point, not when Billy's grabbing a fistful of his hair and gasping his name.

It's messy, because he's kinda drunk, but he does his best, sucking and minding his teeth, swirling his tongue over the tip before taking Billy as deep as he can, gagging on it gently because Billy makes the prettiest sounds when he does.

"Fuck, Stevie, so fucking pretty like this," Billy moans, watching Steve bob his head up and down on his cock, and he glances up at the blond, their eyes meeting as he slurps at the tip like a fucking slut, and it makes his cheeks burn red.

"Shit--I'm close," Billy gasps, his face twisting in pleasure, which is honestly a compliment because Steve knows he can blow him better than this if he were totally sober, but it's not exactly the time to drag things out, so he sucks harder and brings his hand down to fondle at Billy's balls, giving them a little tug and pressing his knuckles to his taint, enraptured as he watches Billy's eyes roll back as he cums, gripping Steve's hair hard.

It makes him whimper, feeling a streak of cum in his mouth, and he pulls off Billy's cock with a soft gasp, feeling another streak or two paint his chin and cheek.

"Holy fuck," Billy laughs quietly, going limp on the table, but he's still staring down at Steve, humming, "You got a lil something there, Stevie..."

He doesn't even care, too turned on to fucking think as he straightens and goes for his own jeans, yanking them down and pulling out his cock with one hand while the other goes to his face, spitting Billy's cum out onto his palm while he wipes the mess on his chin and cheek with his fingers, bringing that hand down to wrap around himself with a moan.

It's gross but it's worth it to see the stunned and awed look on Billy's face, his jaw slack and blue eyes wide as he looks down to watch Steve stroke himself, clearly admiring his cock.

"Jesus, Stevie," Billy sighs, "You've been holding out on me."

"You've seen it before," he grunts, stroking over the tip and feeling his balls tighten in response.

"Not like this," Billy hums, licking his lips, and Steve's locked in on his mouth then, imagining it stretched around his cock, knowing that it eventually will be.

He feels his stomach tense and he whimpers out a quiet 'fuck' as he cums, aiming right for Billy's stomach, sighing happily when he watches it cover Billy's piercing.

"Oh, you fucker," Billy chuckles, breathless and almost fucked out, looking up at Steve with annoyed amusement.

"Pay back, for the two weeks you put me through," Steve pants with a grin, triumphant.

But, like he knows, he's a sucker for Billy and he doesn't leave him like that. He goes over to the couch against the wall and grabs the box of tissues there, pulling a few out to clean himself with before taking a few more to Billy, who grabs them from him.

He watches Billy carefully wipe away at his piercing, smirks when he hears the annoyed grumbling as he wipes the cum from his belly button, and he grins when Billy shoots him a look.

"You had it coming," he chuckles, scrunching his nose when Billy throws the crumpled up tissue at his face.

"Asshole," Billy hums, tucking himself back into his jeans, slow and unhurried.

Steve does the same and watches his best friend push himself up with a wince, until they're face to face again, although the table has Steve looking up at Billy a bit.

They stare at each other for a moment, in that warm lamp light, until Steve leans in and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to Billy's mouth. Way too sweet for what they just did.

"So," he hums against Billy's mouth, "About those nipple piercings..."

He feels Billy smile against his mouth, his chest rumbling with a chuckle as he mutters, "I'll think about it."

They both know he's definitely doing it.

[lovebugism]

✶ ┄ FIX IT !

summary: you thought you were over it, the whole steve-and-nancy thing. spoiler alert: you aren't. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 3.5k warning: angst. gut wrenching angst. with a sort of happy ending. a/n: i'm such a sucker for angst it's gotta be unhealthy at this point. anyway, shout out to all my angsty fic enjoyers. let's read this and cry together <3

Having four roommates and only two bathrooms was worth it if it meant getting out of Hawkins. The apartment was a quaint little thing just outside of Indianapolis — up four flights of stairs with no elevator, cracks in the walls, and a stellar view of an alleyway.

But it was nice to have a place all your own. Sharing it with all your best friends was even better. That was the dream after all, wasn’t it? And being with Steve — that was just the cherry on top of it all.

So you weren’t going to let your mean, green, and envious heart ruin the new life you and your friends were trying to build in this tiny apartment.

You didn’t even think yourself the jealous type. Not until you realized that Steve was going to live under the same roof as his ex-girlfriend. It was dumb and it was irrational and you just couldn’t shake it.

It was probably a whole lot harder for Steve than it was for you, really. Besides, it had been years since they were together. Both of them had moved on, both of them had new and blossoming relationships.

Jonathan was good to Nancy. And to you, Steve was… well he was perfect. More importantly, he was yours. 

So it really shouldn’t bother you.

And it didn’t. Not for a while. 

Not until Nancy and Jonathan broke up out of nowhere and he’d announced to all of you on movie night that he was moving out.

He said that he missed California too much, that Argyle was getting lonely all the way out there, and that he had a spare room at his place. You couldn’t tell if that was the truth or just some bullshit excuse.

Maybe both.

What made it worse is that Nancy hadn’t seemed all that upset about it. Hell, you were more sad about him leaving than she was.

She told you as much during your weekly designated wine night (the one where you and her and Robin got drunk on cheap wine, while the rest of the boys fucked off and got drunker on cheaper beer).

“It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would,” she’d confessed with a shrug, only slightly tipsy and cheeks pink with it. “We… drifted apart, I guess. Just felt right to end it.”

You and Robin spent the rest of the night comforting her, anyway.

She loved Jonathan, everyone knew that. It sort of came with the whole shared trauma thing. She had to be at least a little bit sad that her person was gone, but she hid it away from the rest of you like it was her job.

But when the days got really bad, and she found herself missing Jonathan more than she liked, she sought refuge in Steve. Your Steve. 

And it made sense. He knew her better than the rest of you.

But it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

A sick feeling twists in your stomach when Steve accompanies the girl on a liquor store run without her having to ask. You watch with your heart in your throat when he leaves with her in the dead of night — a swirling bubble of jealousy in the pit of your chest with an ache so palpable you can taste it.

You spend the next several minutes trying not to look as sad as you feel while Eddie can’t stop debating on what the two of them might be talking about.

Nancy had been more reserved as of late, carrying a rain cloud over her as she wandered through the apartment like a ghost — he concludes they’re just going out to spill some hot goss. Robin makes him promise to never say those string of words ever again while you quietly dismiss yourself to your bedroom.

Nancy and Steve have been gone for an hour.

Lying in the dark and staring up at the textured, water-stained ceiling, you start to do the math. Fifteen minutes there, fifteen minutes back with traffic — but the streets are usually bare after nine o’clock. Either way, that leaves a half hour spent trying to choose what alcohol to splurge on.

You’ve seen Nancy try to pick out wine, she’s indecisive and a perfectionist to boot. She could spend hours dissecting each bottle to find the perfect one, if Robin wasn’t constantly over her shoulder rushing her.

Maybe that’s why Nancy had declined when the girl offered to tag along with them.

Or maybe she just wanted to be alone with Steve—

You have to physically shake that thought from your head. But even when you shut your eyes, it’s like the image of him and Nancy making out in the back of her Station Wagon is ingrained in the depths of your mind.

You curl into yourself and bathe in the depths of the dark abyss you’ve created in your bedroom, trying to see your way out of your handcrafted turmoil like a bad cold.

When Nancy and Steve return, they come cradling paper bags in their arms like babies.

Robin relieves the latter of the load in his hands and follows the darker-haired girl into the kitchen connected to the living room, no larger than a decent-sized closet.

Steve notices the lack of your presence as soon as he walks through the door. When he’d left, the three of you were pregaming — a feat that often led to Eddie breaking out his guitar and you and him singing terribly off-key to whatever was playing on the radio.

Now you’re nowhere to be found, and he feels it like a missed meal. He feels the ache of your absence like an empty stomach.

“Where’d she go?” Steve asks Eddie, who’s lounging on the couch and taking up the entire space — legs spread and arms thrown over the back.

The curly-haired boy takes a noisy sip of his nearly gone beer. Then exhales rather dramatically when he sits the can on his thigh. It leaves a damp ring on the denim. “Hey, buddy... Just blow in from stupid town?”

“…What?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, already annoyed and knowing more than he lets on. “She’s in her room, dingus.”

“She okay?” Steve wonders with furrowed brows, uncaring of the use of the stupid nickname because there’s bigger things to worry about apparently.

It wasn’t like you to miss a night of drinking. He gets momentarily fearful that you’d gotten sick while he was away, that he wasn’t around to help you if you had.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Eddie lilts with wide eyes, like it’s a bright idea that neither of them would’ve thought of otherwise.

His sarcasm makes Steve roll his eyes, but he heeds the boy’s words anyway.

Through the short hallway and the last door on the right, he finds you in the darkness of your shared bedroom, illuminated only by the orange streetlight that filters through the blinds. You're hid beneath the covers, a little lump on the mattress. 

He idles in the doorway and waits for you to react to his presence.

You don’t.

“Hey, babe,” he greets cautiously after concluding you just hadn’t heard the door squeak open upon his arrival. “You feel okay?”

You mumble something he can’t quite make out. He takes the raised infliction as an affirmative and shifts his weight on his feet because it’s unlike you to be so one-note with him.

“Well, I, uh— I bought some of that wine you like... I couldn’t remember if you liked the blackberry or blueberry, so I ended up just getting both, you know, just in case.”

“Okay,” you respond after several agonizing seconds. Your voice sounds so fragile in the still darkness. Like he didn’t already know something was wrong.

He so desperately wants to pry but chooses to err on the side of caution for now, out of fear of turning the bad, worse.

“You wanna come down and try it with me? If you don’t like it we can always go back—”

“I’m okay,” you interrupt gently, with a tone so soft and coated with so much emotion that it makes his heart sink. You’re anything but and he knows it.

“Okay,” he nods anyway with the hope that he can pull you from this funk you’d managed to fall into. “Do you, uh… Do you want me to stay in here with you?”

He hears your deep sigh and sees the way the wad of blankets rises and falls again. A telltale sign of your annoyance. He knows then that he’s overstayed his welcome.

Your voice remains quiet but loses its kindness when you tell him: “You can do whatever you want, Steve.”

He’s hurt by the way you’re so suddenly short with him, then angered because he didn’t do anything to deserve it in the first place.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you? What did I do?”

You don’t answer. You just sigh again, the same really big, dramatic one that’s more to showcase your irritation with him than anything else.

You’re more than keen to end the conversation right there, but Steve isn’t. Not when something’s eating you away from the inside out and he can’t do anything to help you because you won’t let him. 

“Babe, c’mon. I get it, alright? You’re mad at me. Just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

“You can’t fix it,” you monotone, stifled beneath the covers.

“I can’t fix it?” he repeats with furrowed brows. “What do you mean, I can’t fix it?”

You use your silence as an answer, as a weapon. It’s almost worse than any silver-tongued reply you could've given him. The quiet forces him to think for himself and imagine all the things he could’ve done wrong that he can’t take back. It feels like quicksand.

Did he forgot to kiss you good morning? Of course, he didn’t — actually, he gets mad at you for forgetting — and you were golden before he left. Eddie probably said something stupid, that was likely. Or maybe Robin made a joke that upset you, that was even more likely. 

He figures it’s something in between all those. Something silly that feels like the end of the world. He can make it better. He always makes it better.

Steve lifts the lump of covers you shield yourself with and crawls beneath them with the intention of pulling you out of the void you’ve sunken into.

It’s not so comfortable, lying in bed in socks and jeans and a collared shirt, but he doesn’t need to feel good right now — you do. He’ll be content if he can just hold you in his arms for a couple of hours, the rest of the night if that’s what you need.

But he can’t even do that.

He reaches for your arm, fingers just barely trailing across the warm skin there, and you jerk away from him like he’s shocked you.

It startles him, how quick you are to avoid him. It has him jerking back too, because you’ve never denied him the opportunity to touch you. He becomes the same sort of storm cloud that you are now, because he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. Any of it.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks you, less soft than he’d been before.

You sniffle. “I told you I didn’t want you going out alone with Nancy anymore,” you mumble, face still shoved into your pillow. The words are slightly muffled but he can hear the tears that coat your voice. 

“That’s what this is about?” he wonders, not as empathetic as you’d hoped he might be, but genuinely confused. With your back to him, you don’t see the smile pulling at his lips while he shakes his head, like it’s funny to him. “Babe, we were just getting drinks. It’s no different than you going out with Robin.”

“It’s totally different! Because I was never in love with Robin. She was never in love with me—”

“Well, I beg to differ,” he murmurs in a soft laugh.

“It’s not funny, Steve,” you retort wetly and then sniffle again. When you turn to face him, he sees for the first time what he’s done to you.

The orange of the streetlight lamp outside bathes you in a sunset shade of neon — your eyes are glassy with tears that gather at your lashes. Emotions glow at the tip of your nose and your cheeks. Your skin would be hot to the touch if he felt you now.

“Do you know how weird it is for me? To watch my boyfriend and his ex go fuck around with me?” you ask him with a scrunched nose and brows, like your trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him.

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Steve scolds. “She just wanted to get alcohol for tonight and had some shit to get off her chest. I mean, she’s been having a really hard time lately—”

“It’s not your job to take care of her, Steve!” you shout before you even realize you’re shouting. You take in a shuddered breath and let it out in a trembling sigh, shining eyes flitted away from him and towards the ceiling as you calm yourself down.

When you start your lament again, you’re quieter.

“You can’t just be this, like, emotional crutch for her every single time something’s wrong. She’ll just get invested in you all over again and…”

Steve watches from beside you, propped up on his elbow, as you trail off. The frown between your eyebrows deepens, a great and inquisitive crevice, while your eyes widen and your mouth falls softly agape — like you’ve discovered something in the midst of your rant.

“Is— Is that what you want?” you ask him then. “Do you, like, need her attention to feed your ego or something?”

He’s too offended by your words to tell you all the ways they aren’t true. “What? No! Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Steve.”

“What is?”

“Watching you and her together!” you admit through a tightening throat. You rise from where you’d been laying down and Steve follows you, settling in front of you as you wrap your arms around your knees. “When I have to sit here, by myself, while you guys spend time alone. When she always knows what you’re up to, and I don’t—”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes quietly, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“—It’s not fair. She’s not your girlfriend, Steve, I am. It’s your job to take care of me, not her.”

Steve deflates like a popped balloon. His chin falls to his chest and his eyes squeeze shut at the weight of your words.

It’s like you’re reminding him that he’s supposed to be in love with you and not someone he cared for a long time ago. Like you felt the need to remind him because you thought he’d forgotten somewhere down the line.

It hurts him too. It feels like you’ve got his heart in your hands and you're wringing it in your grip.

“You’re right,” Steve concedes with a nod. “I just... I guess, I never thought about it like that.”

He feels the same way, too, sometimes. When you and Eddie go all buddy-buddy mode and want to spend time together.

When you’re out all night with him at band practice. When you’re attached at the hip and having sleepovers in his room to talk about everything and nothing for hours until you fall asleep when the sun rises. When you both come down at one in the afternoon the next day for breakfast, giggling about the thing you said the night before.

It makes him feel like he’s missing out. Like you’re sharing parts of yourself with someone else and he isn’t allowed to see it.

And sometimes he gets irrational — keeps himself up all night as he imagines you and Eddie making out on his floor after going through all his new tapes or fucking in his unmade bed while he keeps a hand on your mouth to keep you quiet.

Steve concocts waking nightmares for himself whenever you’re not beside him.

But even then, it’s different. Because he used to do all that shit with Nancy. They fell in love, made out for hours because they didn’t want to stop feeling each other, had sex on a twin-sized bed and tried to keep from falling out of it while they did.

You’d never done that shit with Eddie — or with anyone you’re now sharing a home with. Besides Steve.

Because he’s yours now. And you’re his.

But you can’t stop thinking about how he used to be Nancy’s too.

“I don’t need you to tell me that I’m right,” you murmur with the childlike shake of your head, slow and lazy, as you wipe your wet cheek on your shoulder. “I need you to do something about it— I needed you to do something about it a long time ago.”

“I will, okay? I will. I promise. I’ll fix it,” Steve assures you quickly, with wide and hopeful eyes and a nodding head that makes his hair flop against his forehead.

He can see you losing hope in front of him, like a flame going slowly out. You’re slipping away. He keeps fighting to keep a hold of you.

“No.”

“…No?”

“You can’t,” you sniffle. “You can’t fix it.”

“Baby—”

“It’s not fair. To either of us,” you tell him, looking at him through clumped together lashes and heavy, sparkling eyes. “And it’s not your fault, okay? But I can’t keep feeling this like. It’s not healthy— this isn’t… this is what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. It shouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve blinks back stinging tears. He brings his hand to his face and rubs the back of it against his burning nose. He feels a bit like you do now, hopeless. You’re slipping away and he is too and you both just keep on slipping, just going going going.

“You’re not even—” he clears his throat when his voice breaks halfway through. “You’re not even gonna let me try?”

You shrug weakly. Tears burn as they gather at your waterline. You revel in the sting because it’s better than the hole ripping through your chest.

“I don’t know. I think… I think it’s too late.”

“Why would you say that?” Steve agonizes with the shake of his head, looking like a wounded puppy as he gaze at you with brown eyes full of hurt. “Don’t say that. Don’t.”

“Steve—”

“No,” he interjects firmly, stopping the spiral before it can start again.

He positions himself so he’s sitting further ahead of you and holds your arms in his numbing hands, ducking down to catch your gaze when you try to look away from him.

“I love you, okay? I’m an idiot and I’m sorry and I'm stupid, alright? I wasn’t thinking. But we can’t just… It’s not too late. I can fix this. I promise I can fix this.”

Your chest aches at his plea, at the way he still doesn’t understand.

It’s not his fault you feel this way, not entirely. It’s not anyone’s fault and that’s what’s so scary. There’s no one to blame the pain on, no root to cut out and put an end to it. You’re frightened that it’s always going to be there, constantly in the way, forbidding either of you from ever moving on.

“Steve...” you murmur through tears while the boy gathers you in his arms. You try to stop him but your voice gets caught in your throat halfway through. Because you don’t want him to stop. Not ever.

He nurses you into his velvet hold, wrapping a pair of strong arms around you to cage you against him. He presses his nose into your temple while he rocks you back and forth. “I promise. Everything’s okay. I’ll fix it.”

He repeats that like a mantra while you keep your head pressed against his chest — everything’s gonna be okay, I can fix it, I love you.

It’s a promise. One that he’d rather die than break. 

You stay there, curled against his chest, while dark feelings ebb and flow in a constant and bitter cycle.

You hope he’s right. That these big feelings are just big stupid feelings that'll pass come the pink and blue sunrise. That everything really is going to be okay and that he really can fix it. 

Because even now, all hopeless and full of doom and gloom, you feel soothed in his hold. You’ve never felt safer anywhere else. You’ve built a home in the peace of Steve’s arms and you want to keep on living in them.

“I’m gonna make it better,” he whispers against the crown of your head. If you’ll let me.

He feels you nod lazily against him. “Okay.”

[huskersbooze]

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

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

Alastor Doesn't Do Feelings

Alastor x Reader

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

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

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

Word count : 1.25k

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

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

And it was all because of you.

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

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

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

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

"Were you even listening to me?"

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

"Just go to bed, dipshit."

"I don't need sleep."

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

"I let you do that."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

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

"It was an expression, babe."

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

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

"Alastor! You're doing it again!"

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn't respond.

He's too busy screaming internally.

-----

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

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

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

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

-----

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

Or so, he thought.

“Good morning, Al.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

“Alastor doesn’t do feelings, honey.”

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

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

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

“Well, did anything specific happen?”

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

“Hm. That does sound odd.”

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

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

“Are.. Are you sure?”

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

“Thank you, Rosie.”

-----

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

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

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

“Alastor?”

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

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

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

Alastor nearly flinched as he said it himself. 

Nothing serious.

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

Fuck. What was he thinking?

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

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

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

He loved you.

Turns out, Alastor does, and will do feelings.

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

Alastor doesn’t do feelings.

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

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

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

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

———[ End. ]———