#like maybe you could do something interesting still but it won't be true to the plot

[knavetheodore]

I really can't conceive of a way to do a soc/ice court plot adaption after this season of shadow and bone. it's taking so many plot points and emotional beats from soc, that there will be little left for a faithful adaption of the duology.

Kind of disappointing given i feel like i can safely say soc is the more beloved series.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 23: Regrets

Summary: Depression: a common mental health condition characterized by a low mood or loss of pleasure or interest in activities for long periods of time. 

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,940

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, mental illness, depression, very heavy emotionally, angst, Johnny gets his feelings hurt (but only for a moment), angst, everyone is having big emotions, Bella Swan-esque sad montage, angst, kissing, slight suggestive content, angst

A/N: Did I completely rewrite part of this during the editing process? Yes. Are you going to thank me for that? Also yes. I'm trying something a bit different with this chapter, so let me know what you think. It probably won't be a regular thing, but I just thought I'd give it a test and this chapter was the perfect time to do that.

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They say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. 

They’re right. There’s a hole in your chest, an empty void. The squeaking of your shoes on the tiles sounds far away as you numbly walk back towards your room. 

“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks cautiously as you pause in front of your door long enough to turn the handle.

You turn to look up at him, his brows pinched and his eyes shining with concern. “He's gone.” Your voice cracks and shakes, breaking over the words like you're speaking the finality of the situation. 

You are. 

“I know.” Johnny reaches out, his fingers wrapping around your arm. “I wish there had been more warning, but this is usually how his solo assignments go.” 

You swallow thickly. “He'll come back, right?”

Johnny grimaces. “Ye know I can't promise that. But, there's no one quite as capable in the field as him, except maybe Price.” Johnny squeezes your arm gently. “He’s been doing this for a long time, kitten. Have faith in that, and his skills.” 

Johnny’s words do nothing to help the turmoil inside you, the fear and anxiety. One split second mistake, one wrong decision and you know it could be over. Everything could be over before it even started. Why didn’t you confront him sooner? Why didn’t you pick up on his true feelings, his emotions as quickly as he seemed to decipher yours? It’s not fair that they can be taken from you so easily and so quickly. There’s no room for argument, no room for any begging or pleading for them to stay. They have a job, and they’ll always choose that job over you. 

“Ye gonna be alright?” Johnny asks, letting his hand fall from your arm as you push open your door, entering your room before closing it in immediately, clicking the lock into place. You lean against the door for a moment, biting your lip to try and stop the tears as you begin to shiver from the dampness of your clothes. 

You leave your shoes in a pile next to the door before you pad silently to your bathroom, stripping off your clothes once you hit the tile. You’re shivering, a cold chill starting to seep into your very bones as you start the tub, letting it fill with water. The tears blur your vision, dripping into the steaming water as you sink into the bath. You can’t stop the tears as you sit there, not caring how hot the water is, not caring how it makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. You’ll take the pain, the discomfort. Anything to ease the pain that’s ripping your chest wide open.

It hurts, he won’t lie, when you close the door in his face. Well, it wasn’t entirely in his face. He was a foot away from the door, but it still causes a little ache in his chest, a little upset in his mind that you just cut him off like that. The click of the lock is like a finality, the gavel falling on your decision to distance yourself for now. 

The rejection of his offer for comfort has his beta stirring uncomfortably in his mind. Tears fill his own eyes as he stares at the handle of your door, wishing he could reach out and grab it, fling it open and take you into his arms and hold you until you stop crying, until the pain of Simon’s sudden absence goes away. 

“Come on.” John says quietly, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “Give her some time.” 

He lets John lead him away from your door and back towards the rec room. He shouldn’t be so hurt by your abrupt dismissal. You were quite obviously upset, upset enough to run out into the rain after Simon. He saw you race out the door, his stomach clenching in worry, but thankfully the rain had forced most inside. There was little threat to you, not with Simon there, but he had been worried you might not be able to catch him, that you might run blindly into the rain to try and find him. 

He had spotted the tears trailing down your cheeks as you walked back to the barracks, mixing with the rain that soaked straight through you. He’s used to his alpha having to leave suddenly, the distance and the worry are second nature now thanks to their jobs, their lifestyles. You’ve never been through this before with him, though, and so soon after the two of you were finally beginning to give in. It’s like a curse. They begin to get close to you, and then suddenly they’re ripped away. 

He almost feels guilty, like he’s responsible for your pain. If he hadn’t forced it, if he hadn’t put you both in that position, maybe you wouldn’t be so upset. He couldn’t have known, though, that Simon would be called away like that. It could happen at any time, they all know that. They always have to be ready, always have to be prepared to be called out. Even on leave they can’t guarantee there won’t be an emergency. It’s just the nature of their job. 

It wouldn’t have bothered any of them before you. 

“She didn't take it well, did she?” Kyle says as John guides Johnny to sit on the couch next to him. 

“Christ, she's so upset.” Johnny says, leaning his head in his hands. “If I hadnae pushed them, then this wouldn't have happened.” 

“You couldn't have known this was going to happen.” Kyle says, squishing Johnny between him and John to try and comfort the upset beta. 

“We didn't even know until a couple of hours ago.” John says, draping his arm across the back of the couch.

“If she's this upset at one of us leaving...how upset was she when we all left?” Johnny says, his stomach churning at the thought. No wonder you were so shaken when they came back. 

“The best thing we can do right now is leave her alone and let her do what she needs to do.” John says, pulling Johnny so he's resting against his chest. “She'll come out when she's ready.” 

The afternoon comes and goes, the rain slowing to a light drizzle. You still haven’t left your room, sealed inside, secluded from them. Johnny casts the closed door a wistful look every time he walks down the hallway, half tempted to try the knob and see if it’s been unlocked, but he stops himself. The last thing you need is to be scared by someone trying to get in. John is right. You’ll come out when you’re ready. 

John knocks on your door as they get ready to head to dinner, waiting a moment for some type of response. “We’re going to dinner, sweetheart.” He says through the door when there’s no answer to his knock. “Do you want us to bring you something?” 

There’s a quiet noise from your room, some muffled response to John’s question.

“We’ll be back soon.” John says, somehow able to make out what it is you said. Or maybe his plan was to bring you something regardless of whether you agreed or not. 

It feels strange, just the three of them walking to the mess. It’s not the first time they’ve gone just the three of them, but it feels different this time. It’s not Simon’s missing presence that weighs so heavily, it’s yours. 

There’s a tenseness that’s settled over them as they sit at the table, avoiding eye contact with each other.  Simon’s empty space at the table wouldn’t have felt so much like an empty chasm if you had been there to fill some of it. 

They’re not sure what to do, the feeling similar to what they felt upon their return. They knew it would be bad, but they hadn’t expected you to be in shambles like you were. Their pack mate is hurting, their omega is hurting, and there’s nothing they can do. They don’t know what to do. Johnny wants to kick in your door, rush into your room and envelop you in a hug so tight you’ll complain that you can't breathe. He just wants to help you, but that’s not what you want, what you need right now. 

He knows it’s his beta instincts, his need to comfort and soothe and support. If Kyle is feeling the same way, which Johnny knows he has to be, he’s hiding it well. Though, perhaps that’s just for his sake and John’s. He can’t even imagine what John is going through, knowing his omega is suffering in such a way. 

All because Simon is gone. 

How easily one missing piece could tear the pack apart. If something happened to one of them, or god forbid something happened to you, they might not be able to recover. They had always assumed their training would win out, that they could move past it in the way they would had there been nothing but the bonds of camaraderie between them. 

How silly that idea had been. 

It’s no secret death disrupts pack stability, shakes the bonds that tie a pack together. He remembers how his Grannie’s death had shaken his family for weeks and it had taken months to return to what could be considered normal after a partially expected death of a member of the pack. What kind of damage would an unexpected and sudden death do to a pack? 

Johnny shakes the thought from his head. There was always a risk. They all knew that, they all agreed to that when they signed up. He knows Simon is highly skilled, well accustomed to working alone, to completing solo assignments successfully. The risk of something happening was always high, but he trusts Simon and puts faith in his skills. 

John goes back through the line once they finish, making a tray for you and piling it high as usual. It always makes him happy to see how well cared for you really are. Despite the circumstances of you being added to their pack, he knows it could have been so much worse. There’s worse packs, worse alphas out there. At least with them, you’re an equal. You’re their precious omega, and they’d make anyone who threatened you regret that decision. 

John is surprised the handle turns when he tries it. You’ve gotten up at least, but he’s not surprised to find you back in the same place you’ve likely been all day. He closes the door behind him before moving to your bed, setting the tray of food down on your nightstand. You squint as he flicks the lamp on, reaching up to rub your eyes. The bed dips as he sits on the edge, a quiet sigh leaving his lips. 

“I know this is hard for you.” He says softly, brushing his fingers across your bare arm. Your skin is warm, likely from being burrowed under the blankets. “I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now.” 

“He's gone.” You say quietly, your voice hoarse from crying. 

“Just for a while.” He says. “He’ll be back.” 

“But you can’t promise that.” You argue, pushing yourself up to sit. Your cheeks are still damp with tears, eyes red and lips still trembling. 

“There’s always a risk,” He says softly. “But you have to trust Simon. He’s not going down without a fight.” He sighs quietly as your gaze drops to your hands, your fingers picking at the skin around your fingers. He slips his hand into yours, stopping you from continuing. “What’s eating you?” 

“I should have told him.” You sniffle, your eyes on his hand as your fingers close around it. . 

“Told him what?” He prods gently, curiously. 

“That I love him.” You say, lifting your gaze to look at him. “I should have said it but I didn’t and now what if he doesn’t come back? I love all of you, and I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” The words end in a sob, tears sliding down your cheeks again. 

Your words take him by surprise. It’s no secret how they feel about you, how their feelings have grown from curiosity to companionship to attraction and now to love. All of them have come to love you in their own ways, even Simon in his resistance wasn’t immune to his feelings, to their shared feelings towards you. 

“Look at me.” He cups your face gently, his thumbs wiping the falling tears. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way, I wish they hadn't picked us to be first for this. It's not fair to you, it's not fair to put you through this. I wouldn't change having you as my omega, but forcing you to live like this, to be left behind with the worry over something none of us can control.” He shakes his head. “It was a selfish decision by those who created the initiative.” 

“What...what happens if the initiative fails?” You ask softly. 

“We’re not giving you up.” He says, holding your gaze. “We wouldn’t want to, and we wouldn’t let it happen. You’ve been part of this pack since the day you stepped foot on this base. We wouldn’t have let you go then, and we sure as hell won’t now.” 

Your breathing is shaky as you stare at him, and he can see the wheels turning in your head, the hesitation as you debate whether you want to speak. He hates that you still feel this way, that you have to hide your thoughts from them out of fear or worry that they might be angered by them. He’s not sure there’s anything you could say that would anger him. 

“Would you ever leave for me?” You speak the words slowly, hesitantly, like they might bite you if you're not careful. 

He's not expecting it, though he has wondered if you'd ever ask it of them. If it might come to be too much and it leaves you no choice but to ask, to give them the ultimatum. He lets out a breath, all the answers he'd thought up in response gone as he sits face to face with you, as he faces this question out in the open for the first time. Tears are gathering in your eyes as you stare at him, taking his silence as second thoughts, as possible rejection. 

“Please be honest with me.” You whisper shakily, a tear slipping down your cheek. 

He watches its path as it slides down your cheek, pausing at the line of your jaw before it drips down onto your shirt. He lifts his gaze back to yours, the pain in them stabbing straight into his heart. He wants to say yes, that he'd leave in a heartbeat, give up what he'd worked his whole life to achieve, all for an omega. His omega. 

He wouldn't be able to sleep at night, knowing the kind of evils that exist in the world, the kinds of threats that linger in the dark. The evils that may pose a threat to you and his pack. You’ll never be truly safe, not so long as there’s others who know of your existence. Very few of them he’d truly trust with the knowledge that you pose a threat to their efficiency as a team, a weakness that could be exploited. 

What bloody fucking fools they were, leaving you alone like that. 

“Part of me wants to say no,” He admits honestly, ignoring the flash of pain in your eyes. “But it would depend on the situation. If your life was ever in danger because of us, then without question. If the initiative fails, if we can't adjust, then we may have no other choice.”

“The job comes first.” You say quietly, sounding defeated. 

“But there may come a time when it doesn't.” He says, trying to reassure you. “Don't worry about that too much right now.” He brushes a hand over your hair. “If a situation arises, then we'll talk about it further.” 

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You lean into him, letting out a quiet breath. He pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly. 

“I love you too.” He says, his lips brushing the top of your head. “And Simon knows how you feel.” 

You shift in his arms, pulling back just slightly to stare up at him. Your brows are pinched as you stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“Simon is very good at reading people. Their scents, their emotions, their body language. Years of training paired with his own natural abilities.” He smiles softly at you. “He knows how you feel.” 

“Oh,” You say, shrinking into yourself. 

“He'll likely convince himself it's not true, knowing him and how he thinks. You'll have to tell him to make him believe it.” He pats your leg under the blankets. “Don't worry too much about him. He'll be back before you know it.” He pushes himself up to stand. “Eat your dinner. We'll be around if you need anything.” 

“John?” You ask, stopping him before he can leave. 

He turns back around to face you. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” You say. “For everything.”

A small smile pulls at his lips. “Of course.”

You're just stepping out of the bathroom when the knock sounds on your door. You had gotten up to rinse your face with cold water, your skin starting to feel tight and itchy after nearly an entire day of uncontrollable tears. You freeze at the sound of knuckles tapping on the wood, your heart leaping into your chest. Is it one of the guys coming to tell you bad news? Has something happened to Simon? 

Or is he coming back already? 

You’re half scared, half hopeful as you make the short journey across your room to the door. You feel like you’re moving in slow motion as your fingers close around the handle, slowly pulling it open. 

Johnny is standing on the other side, his face a mix of worry and sadness. It doesn’t help the despair already starting to manifest in you. Something must have happened to Simon. Something’s gone wrong. He’s not coming back, or they’ll have to leave to help him. 

“Ye doin’ alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, his brows furrowing as he stares at you. 

“Yeah.” You can’t help but wince at the way your voice cracks around the word. You sniffle, wiping at your nose with your sleeve. 

“I have somethin’ for ye.” He says, his hands fiddling with the fabric he’s holding. You hadn't noticed it before now. “I was gonnae do Simon’s laundry, but I thought ye might want this.” 

It’s one of Simon’s shirts he’s holding out to you, one of the black standard cotton t-shirts he often sports. Your fingers tremble as you take it, bringing the fabric to your nose. You don’t care that it’s dirty, having likely been soaked in sweat at one point. You inhale deeply, nose pressed into the fabric. It smells of soap and deodorant and him. Tears well in your eyes as you take in the scent, almost as if you’re getting it directly from the source. 

You’re moving before you realize it, your arms wrapping around Johnny’s middle. He seems almost surprised by your action, his body tensing for a second before it relaxes, his arms wrapping around you. 

“Thank you.” You murmur against his chest, a couple tears slipping from your eyes. You’re so tired of crying, but you can’t stop. 

“Yer welcome, kitten.” He says, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Ye need anythin’...” 

He leaves the other half unsaid, but you know what he means. You’re hesitant to pull away from him, wanting to just stand there and cling to him until Simon returns, but you know he’s busy. Eventually he’ll have to leave you too. You’re not sure you could handle watching him leave your nest, close your door behind him as he’s forced away to do his job. 

Your door clicks as you shut it, holding Simon’s shirt to your chest. You’re tempted to wear it, to slip it over your head and bathe yourself in your scent, but you know if you do that, his scent will just fade faster and become overwhelmed by your own. The desire to bury yourself in it is strong, let his scent sink into your body and overwhelm your own. 

Your eyes pass over the giant bear sitting in your desk chair before snapping back to look at it. An idea begins to form in your head as you set the shirt on your bed. 

You grab the bear, hauling it to your bed and sitting it on the edge. You pull the shirt over its head, stretching the neckline slightly. The shirt is slightly baggy on the bear, but you don’t care as you maneuver it so it’s laying on the bed, trying to picture Simon in its place. It would be a tight squeeze, but then again it always is with any member of your pack. Their bodies don’t leave much space on the narrow mattresses by themselves, much less with you curled up with them. You can’t help the stirring in your chest, the yearning for more space, for a bed big enough to fit all of you at the same time. Big enough for Johnny to starfish himself comfortably, for you to escape the inescapable suffocating heat of their bodies that will build up inevitably. 

Tears burn behind your eyes as you crawl onto the mattress, draping yourself across the giant bear. Simon’s scent wafts up around you as you press your face into the shirt, pretending it’s Simon you’re laying against. You can almost feel his arms wrap around you, holding onto you like you might disappear if he lets go. You squeeze your arms tighter around the bear, letting Simon’s scent seep into your mind and take away your fear and your worry and your pain for a little while. 

It’s two days later when you finally leave your room. You’ve managed to stop the onslaught of tears, calming down enough to exist without being a weepy mess. There’s still an ache in your chest, though, the gaping hole that won’t close. A piece of you is missing, a piece you hadn’t even noticed was there until it was ripped out of you suddenly and violently. Your hug with Johnny had been the first time it had felt less intense, the aching abating just slightly. 

They’ve just returned from their afternoon training, earlier than usual meaning they have some downtime before dinner. You can almost tell where he is before you leave your room, following the sounds of the TV. Your steps are slow and quiet, the cold tile biting into your bare feet as you approach the rec room. 

He’s seated on the couch, spread out as usual. His eyes flicker to you as you hesitate in the doorway, tugging at the hem of the baggy shirt you’re wearing. You’ve long forgotten whose it is, the name on the tag worn off and all hints of scent erased by the many times you’ve worn and washed it. The thought tugs at the hole in your chest. Eventually Simon’s shirt won’t smell like him anymore, faded and rubbed away by time and your own scent. 

“Hi kitten,” He says, breaking the silence between you. 

You let out a shaky breath before entering the rec room, approaching him. You can tell he’s expecting you to sit next to him, to curl up against his side by the way he moves his arm, but instead you straddle his lap, all but throwing yourself against his chest. He grunts quietly in surprise, his arm instinctively wrapping around your back. You lay your head on his shoulder, going limp in his hold. 

It doesn’t fix the hole, doesn’t remove the ache entirely, but you can feel it start to lessen as you sit there, getting as close to Simon as you possibly can through his beta. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt. He wraps his other arm around you, holding you tightly as his scent begins to project around you. Nothing is said, but nothing has to be. He knows what you need, and he doesn’t even have to use his instincts to figure it out. 

A week goes by without a word from Simon or even about him and how he’s doing. You return to your normal routine in a numb, almost dazed state. You follow the rest of your pack around like a lost puppy, going to meals and following them to training when John allows, withdrawing back to your room like a recluse when you can’t. You sit in the rec room with them in the evenings, but you feel far away, distant from them and reality. You stare at the TV, but all you can see are blurry moving shapes. You can’t even read, often finding yourself staring at the cover until the words mesh and blur into something else. 

You never thought the distance could feel like this. You almost miss the fear of them all being gone. At least that had made you feel something. 

You see Dr. Keller twice as usual, both appointments unproductive as you fight to force some kind of life into yourself to drown out the numbness that’s settled. You’re far away, distracted from everything. Even food tastes different, more mushy and flavorless than usual. 

They’re worried about you. Even in your numb state you can tell that. John hovers closer, allowing you to follow them more than he probably should. It’s not like you’re paying much attention to what they’re doing, seated far away from anything that might put you at risk as you stare up at the sky, or off at the trees in the distance. Even when you’re inside, your gaze is far away, never quite focusing on anything. 

Johnny and Kyle keep you close as much as they can, squishing you between them on the couch or when you walk to meals. They’re always touching you, holding your hands, brushing your skin, wrapping their arms around you. They’re trying to comfort you, and it works for a little bit, not even your numbness impervious to a beta’s soothing presence. They hold onto you like they’re trying to keep you grounded to the earth, like you might float off and disappear into space if they don’t. 

You don’t sleep well, electing to sleep in your room every night. It’s a vast difference to what you had been doing, avoiding your room as much as possible. You’re seeking out the safety of your nest, a comfort only it can provide despite everything that’s happened. You feel bad for pushing them away, keeping them at a distance, but at the same time, you don’t care. 

You just want Simon back. 

“I’m worried.” 

“I know. I’m surprised you didn’t come here sooner.” 

He feels strange, sitting in Dr. Keller’s office alone. It’s not the first time he’s been here, spoken to her about you. After their return from their first assignment, he had sat with Dr. Keller and gone over everything that had happened during their absence, or at least as much as she could tell him. Anything you talked about was considered confidential, but at least she could tell him if there were any issues or incidents. 

“She’s depressed.” Dr. Keller answers before he can even ask. “It’s not uncommon for omegas to become depressed after separation. Even when there’s necessary splitting of a pack into a satellite, there’s a risk for all omegas to develop depression because of it.”

He should have known. He’s seen it happen to soldiers, when the blood staining their hands grows to be too much and they begin to recluse in their own bodies, becoming empty shells of who they were before. You’ve become a shell, a body simply existing out of necessity. 

“What can we do?” He asks, unable to keep the mask up, to hide his concern and fear. 

“Not much more than you have been.” She says. “Keep supporting her, reminding her that you’re there. There’s an adjustment when a bond begins to weaken. Omegas are especially susceptible to it, and with how strongly connected and aware of her instincts and emotions she is, it’s going to affect her more.” Dr. Keller sighs, leaning her arms on her desk. “I don’t think anyone has ever taught her how to balance or even use those purebred instincts. Institutes are supposed to, but from what we know, they teach subservience over anything.” 

John shifts in his seat. Of course no one would have cultivated those abilities. It would have made you too aware, made the risk of you being able to manipulate them too high. Your job was to serve them above all else, so why would those teaching you want to give you that ability? Those instincts would have made you a perfect omega, able to pick up on the slightest changes, the needs of your pack. Yet, if you became too aware of your own abilities, it would give you too much power over them. That’s the one thing institutes don’t want...an omega that knows how powerful they are. 

“How do we teach her?” He asks. 

“I can help her with balancing those instincts and emotions, but only someone who knows can really teach her how to be successful at using them.” 

“Simon.” He says, the pieces beginning to come together. 

“If he didn’t know how before, his military training would have cultivated those instincts. That’s why purebreds are so sought after by militaries. Of course, it’s a bit different for alphas and omegas, but you are two sides of the same coin.” Dr. Keller smiles. “She’s smart. She’ll begin to figure it out on her own once she’s aware she can do it. In the meantime, just keep doing what you’re doing. If there’s some way she can talk to him or get in contact with him, that may help alleviate some of the depression.” 

He knows it won’t be likely, but if it will help you, he’s willing to take that risk. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

He stands outside your door, staring at the knob. It’s late, his eyes burning from exhaustion. He’s stressed, not just from the day to day stressors of his job, but your obvious pain and discomfort has been affecting him. It’s affecting all of them. Kyle and Johnny’s times on the course have slowed, their aim is off, and he knows they’re not sleeping well either. 

Even with you beginning to return to your normal routine, your distance from them has proven to affect them more than your presence. Even with you around them, your numbed, absent state has disrupted their abilities to function, to exist as a normal pack. He’s relayed the sudden change to Kate in an attempt to prove his decision not to leave you alone is the right one, and it will help his case should they decide to try and separate you from the pack. 

He can’t think of a reason why they would now. The bonds are too strong. The separation of just one of them has proven to disrupt the bonds between all five of you. He can only imagine how Simon is feeling, being apart from everyone. It’s never bothered him before, but that had been before your presence. If Simon was incapable of fulfilling his duties and performing the task he had been assigned, they would have forced him out of the field and sent him back by now. 

Perhaps your fears were right and Simon isn’t as in love as John thought he was. 

He shakes the thought from his head. He’s seen the way Simon looks at you, the obvious change in his demeanor since your trip to town, the changes that have happened in your demeanor around him. Simon cares for you deeply, more than just as an alpha in your pack. 

He tries the handle of your door, surprised again when it opens. He might have thought you’d start locking it at night again with how much you’ve regressed. Maybe this was your silent plea for help, for comfort, for something other than the emptiness inside you. He slips into the room, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light of your nightlight in the corner. He can’t see you except for your arm tossed around the giant bear. It’s wearing a black shirt, likely the one Johnny had given you. It was a good decision, offering you at least an extension of the missing alpha. 

He approaches the bed quietly, not wanting to startle you. He doesn’t want to climb over you either, but he knows moving the bear will wake you. Perhaps you’re exhausted and sleeping hard enough he won’t disturb you. 

He picks the lesser of two evils, lifting the bear. He curses silently when your body shoots up as soon as the bear slips from your grasp. 

“No!” You shout, almost like an angry child having their toy taken away. It’s a desperate sound, a shocking one, ringing loud in the silence. You’re reaching for the bear, trying to tug it from his hands. 

“Easy, easy.” He says, putting his hand on your arm, your movements slowing to a stop as his touch brings back to reality. “I’m just moving him.” He shifts the bear to your other side, your body rolling to follow it. 

He climbs into the bed, barely managing to fit on the mattress. It’s a tight squeeze with the two of you and the bear, but he’ll manage it. He’s slept in tighter places. He slips an arm under you, the other reaching across you to settle on the bear. 

“Tight squeeze with the three of us.” He says quietly, trying to ease some of the tension. 

“Need bigger beds.” You murmur, voice slightly muffled from where your face is pressed against the bear. 

He chuckles quietly. “I won’t argue with that. Perhaps someday.” 

You shift slightly at his words, obviously not expecting him to continue your conversation from earlier this week. He normally tried to avoid thinking too far into the future. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up for something he might never get to have. Or, at least he used to feel that way. 

Things have changed. 

“I used to think this job would be all I did.” He continues, speaking almost to himself. “I’d never grow old enough to retire. Someday I’d die in the field and that was good enough for me. Then, of course, things changed. Had those three other muppets to worry about.” He slips his arm from the bear to wrap around your stomach. “Then another little muppet got added. Now I’m thinking about a nice little cottage by the sea, big enough for five, with a nice flower garden in the front. Just a short walk to the beach, where we can sit and watch the sun set.” 

“White picket fence dreams.” You say quietly. 

“Or at least the British equivalent of that.” He says, a smile tugging at his lips. 

You shift slightly in his arms, pressing back against his chest as you turn as far as you can. “You mean it?” 

“Of course.” He says, his thumb gently rubbing your stomach through your shirt. “Things have changed. Priorities have shifted, and not just for me.” 

He presses his forehead against the side of your head, breathing in the soft scent of your strawberry body wash and the new vanilla scented shampoo Johnny had gotten you. There’s a faint hint of leather beneath your scent, the smell rubbing off from Simon’s shirt you dressed the bear in. He can almost imagine Simon in place of the bear, both of their arms tangling around you as they surround you and keep you safe from the outside world. Just a moment of peace in the hectic violence and chaos of their lives. 

“John?” You say quietly, pulling him from the edge of sleep that had settled in his mind. 

He hums quietly in response, forcing himself back to consciousness again. 

There’s a moment’s pause, a second of silence, and for a moment he wonders if you’re going to speak at all. “Don’t let go.” You finally say, your voice quiet and broken in the silence. 

“Never.” He says, tightening his hold around you. 

John's phone ringing drags you from the light sleep you had managed to slip into. It hasn't been long since you drifted off you think, but then again, it's hard to tell. It's still dark out, and you're still in the same position. John lets go of you to reach for his phone on your nightstand barely managing to grab it at the awkward angle he’s at. 

His voice is rough with sleep as he answers. “Hello?” 

It's quiet for a moment. You can't hear much aside from a male voice on the other side. You can't tell who it is or what they're saying. 

“Good to hear.” He says, slipping into the Captain again. 

Something stirs in your stomach as you try to listen, try to catch who it is. Just one word, just one hint. 

“I'm sure.” There’s another pause, this one feeling like a lifetime. “I have someone here next to me that would like to talk to you too.”

You nearly elbow John in the stomach in your frantic attempt to turn over. You yank the offered phone from his hand as you lean the top half of your body on his stomach. “Hello?” Your voice wavers as you say it, the emotions beginning to stir within you again. 

There's a second delay before you hear it. “Hello, love.” 

You nearly cry at finally hearing his voice again, the pet name causing a fluttering in your stomach. You've never heard him call you that before. “I missed you.” You finally say, managing to get the words out. 

“That's what I'm hearing.” He says, and you can imagine the lifting of his cheeks under the mask, the slight crinkle of his eyes as he smiles. 

“When will you be back?” You ask. 

“Soon. Won't be much longer.” He says. 

“Be careful.” You say, your breathing shaky. “You better not come back hurt.” You're not sure you could handle it if he came back on a stretcher, or even with a single bandaid. 

“Yes ma'am.” He says seriously, but you can hear the humor in his tone. “I'll try my best.” 

“Good.” You say, wanting to lay there, to listen to him breathing for a while, just so that you know he’s really there, he’s really alright. You know you can’t though, your fingers shaking as you pass the phone back to John. 

He speaks to Simon for a couple more minutes while you lay across his stomach, listening to the rumble of his voice in your ear. Relief is flooding through you after hearing Simon's voice. He's really alright, he's fine, he's coming home. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” John asks after hanging up, his hand coming to rest on your back. 

A thousand words want to come out of your mouth, but you can't get them up past the lump in your throat. “He called me love.” You finally say, replaying the pet name over and over in your head. 

“Did he?” John asks, and you can picture the way his lips turn up in a smile. 

“He's never called me that before.” You say. 

“Well then I'm sure he meant it.” John says. 

You sure hope so. 

It's a week later when you get to stand on the tarmac again, waiting for a plane to land. It's early, the sky clear and the sun just starting to rise over the trees, casting everything in a golden light. It’s so vastly different from how the world had looked when he left, the weather seeming to convey your inner feelings. The rain and darkness a perfect symbol of the dread and pain of him leaving. Now that he’s returning the sun is out and the sky is clear, conveying your relief. You’re beginning to feel again, the ache in your chest beginning to lessen. It’s the most alive you’ve felt since he left. 

You're in a dress today, the yellow sundress that Johnny had bought you. You wonder if he’d done it on purpose, perhaps knowing something you don’t. Despite the sun rising, there’s still a chill in the air, and you had quickly stolen his sweatshirt to cover your bare shoulders. 

You squeeze John's hand as the plane comes in to land, watching it approach in eager anticipation. You're going to hug him tightly, throw your arms around him and refuse to let go until you have no choice. You're going to give him the greeting he deserved weeks ago when they all came back. 

He's like a magnet, halfway down the ramp when you start approaching, moving without even thinking. He's in his full mask, the one with the half skull sewed to it. He looks dangerous and deadly, the true visage of a Ghost, but you approach without fear, without hesitation. Underneath all of it you know there’s Simon, the man you’ve quickly fallen in love with. 

You're ready to hug him, to feel him again, to wrap yourself around him like you could sink right into his body. 

You're not prepared for what he does next. 

One of his hands reaches up, the fabric of his gloves rough on your skin as he grips your chin, his thumb on one side, digging into your jaw, the other four fingers on the other side holding your head still. His other hand pulls his mask up over his mouth, giving you a glimpse of his stubble and chapped lips. 

You don't get to look long as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. 

It's like time freezes as he kisses you, your skin erupting in goosebumps, and it's not from the cold air. You weren't expecting this, your brain trying to catch up, to process that this is really happening, that this is real. 

He tilts your head to the side, deepening the kiss as he leans closer into you. Your hands reach up, closing around the sleeves of his jacket. He's real, he's really here, and he's kissing you. 

The moment likely doesn't last more than 30 seconds, but it feels like forever as his lips move against yours. It might be cliche to say fireworks are going off, but that may have just been the engines of the plane shutting down.  

He finally pulls away from you, his hand still gripping your jaw. You could melt into a puddle right there, his eyes speaking volumes of what's going on in his head. He's done a lot of thinking in his time away. You wonder how many thoughts you've shared over the last two weeks. 

“Should have done that before I left.” He says, his voice rough, but just as you remember. 

Tears prick behind your eyes as you stare up at him. His fingers are digging into your jaw, but you don’t care. He’s here, he’s back, he’s safe, and he just kissed you like you’d wanted to before he left. 

“I wish you had.” You say, as he slowly releases your jaw, his hand brushing your throat before it drops to his side. You let out a shaky breath before throwing your arms around him, holding onto him tightly. 

“What are you doing?” He says, taking you back all those weeks ago to when you hugged him the first time. There’s no confusion in his tone now though, instead there’s an amused lilt to it. 

“Giving you the hug you deserve so you don't get mad at me.” You say, your voice slightly muffled from your face being squished against his chest.

“You think I'd get mad about not getting a hug after kissing you?” He asks, patting your back. 

“Just making sure.” You say, his chuckle reverberating in your ear. 

You don’t release him as he begins to walk to where the others are, keeping your arms wrapped around him tightly. He greets the others, Johnny squishing you between them as he hugs his alpha. You don't care as Ghost's armor digs into your body, it's just a reminder that this is real. He's really here. This isn’t a dream. 

He's really back. 

You sit between Simon and Johnny in the back seat of the car. It's a tight squeeze between the two, but you don't care one bit. Johnny's hand rests on your thigh as John drives back to the barracks. Perhaps you’re still reeling a bit from the kiss, or perhaps it’s Simon’s scent, but you want to push Johnny’s hand higher, hike up your dress and hope Simon gets a peek at what's waiting underneath. You won’t though. You want him to be comfortable. You want your first moments of intimacy to be just the two of you, something special. 

Dread begins to fill you again as the car rolls to a stop outside the barracks. You know what to expect now, having gone through it once before. He’s not truly back, he still has to leave you again. At least this time, you have the others. 

“I'll see you soon.” Simon says, squeezing your arm. 

“Hurry back?” You stare up at him. 

“As fast as I can.” He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

You're tempted to kiss him again, but you don't want to push his boundaries. Sure, he had kissed you, but it could have been a fluke, a one time thing born out of desire and time spent apart. 

You won't care if he never kisses you again. At least you know what it feels like. 

Thankfully he makes the decision for you as he turns his body slightly towards you, as much as he can in the tight space. He lifts the bottom of his mask, leaning down to kiss you again. You purr against his lips, your scent exploding in the car like a smoke bomb. 

Johnny lets out an extensive curse as he fumbles for the door handle, forcing it open in an attempt to escape the sudden onslaught. Kyle is quick to follow, allowing more air in to disperse the intensity of your scent in the confined space. John rolls his window down, lighting a cigar, trying to do anything to keep your scent from going straight to his head. 

You feel giddy and almost proud as Simon places one last soft peck against your lips. You don’t want to let him go, but you know you have to. He’s not quite yours yet. He still has more of his job to do before then. 

Always the job first. 

Your lips are still tingling as you walk into the barracks, your heart still fluttering in your chest. Johnny is staring at you, almost walking sideways. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, your face warming. 

“What?” You ask, finally looking at him. He’s wearing that stupid, smug grin on his face again.

“Been a long time since I've seen him like that” He says, squeezing your arm gently. “Not since his first romp with Kyle.” 

You turn to look at the other beta behind you who simply shrugs. “What can I say? No one's immune to my charm.” He gives you a dazzling smile. He’s not wrong, his smile causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. 

“Cannae wait to see him glowin’ after his first taste of our sweet omega.” Johnny says, backing you against the wall. 

“Yeah, well, you might be waiting forever for that.” You say, stopping his approach with a hand on his chest. 

He tilts his head at you, his brows furrowing. “What do ye mean, kitten?” 

“I'm not even sure he's going to want that, much less if he'll do it.” You shrug. The thought has been going through your mind despite the kiss in the car. Though he’s kissed you twice, that’s a big leap to make, a leap you might never make. 

Johnny snorts at your response. “Kitten, he's been holdin’ himself back for weeks. He's just worried he may...be too much for ye.”

You give Johnny a look. “I can handle you, can't I?”

Johnny grins. “Aye, but this is...different. He's not gonnae make the first move. If ye want it,” He leans in closer. “Yer gonnae have to do it yourself.”

“Well,” You slip under his arm, nearly making him faceplant on the wall. “Then I best save my stamina for him, then.” 

Kyle laughs, patting Johnny's back. “Set yourself up for that one, mate.”

You peel off Johnny's sweatshirt, adjusting the top of your dress before tossing his sweatshirt to him. “I'll see you both later.” You give them a smirk before turning on your toes, heading back to your room. 

Johnny curses quietly behind you, and you just know his eyes are glued to your ass. 

Johnny’s words replay over and over in your head as you go through your day as usual. Simon had returned to the barracks, going straight to his room to shower. You had been tempted to step into the hallway, to wait for him, but you know he’s not free yet. He still has paperwork to do, which you know from experience that could take a long time. 

Thankfully, that gives you plenty of time to think about what you’re going to do. You're going to have to make the first move, but what if you move too fast? How do you even broach the subject? 

“Hey Simon, welcome back. Would you like to rearrange my guts?” 

“I cried the whole time you were gone, would you like to make me cry for a different reason?”

“Bend me over and fuck me like a real alpha.”

You facepalm at your own thoughts. You could just slowly initiate it. Start with touches, getting closer, more kisses. Leave yourself open to him in hopes he gets the message, that he pushes past that boundary and finally fucks you like he wants to. 

Heat blooms in your stomach, sinking between your legs. You're all worked up and he’s only kissed you twice. Johnny’s words don’t help the fantasies in your mind. He’s scared you won’t be able to handle him. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought. He’s a big man. You know, you’ve felt it before. It’s hard not to, with some of the positions he’s put you in during your training, nothing but those grey sweatpants and his underwear as a barrier. 

You wonder how he'll do it. Bend you over so you won't see his face? Keep the mask on and put you on your back so you can hold eye contact with him? Or will he finally take the mask off, finally let you see his face? 

You assume the others have seen it, so when will it be your turn? 

It’s not until after dinner when you hear footsteps down the hall. Johnny had gotten food for Simon who was still deep in his paperwork when you left for the mess. Despite his absence at the table still, it had felt less gaping, less like a black hole threatening to suck you all in. He’s back, he’s here. Soon he’ll fill that empty space again. 

You try to stop yourself from running out of your room when the steps get closer. You’re not even sure it’s him. You don’t want to disappoint the others if you leave your room so excitedly in the hopes that they’re Simon. So instead, you stay seated on the edge of your bed, staring at your unlocked door. You want him to open it, to step into your room, but you know he won’t. He’s never been in your room. The furthest he’s entered is your doorway. 

You’ll have to make the first move. 

Your stomach nearly leaps out of your body as the boots stop in front of your door. You hold your breath in anticipation, too scared to move, too scared to throw open the door and risk your excitement being too much. You might push him away in your eagerness, but you’re not sure you can hide it much longer. You’d let him bend you over with the door open, hell, you’d let him take you in the hallway. 

One step at a time. One step at a time. 

You repeat it over and over in your head as you push yourself off your bed, moving to the door. He’s not going to knock, he’s going to wait for you to open it, for you to remove that barrier between you. He’s giving you the chance to change your mind, to go back, to call the two kisses enough and draw the line where you want it. 

The doorknob is cold in your sweaty hand as you grasp it, turning it slowly. The gavel is falling, the slow opening of the door marks the finality, the crumbling of the final barrier. There’s no going back. The bond is too strong, the line has been removed completely. 

You stare up at Simon as the door swings as far as it will open. His eye black is gone, washed off in the shower revealing the pale skin underneath. He smells good, cleaner than he had on the tarmac. You can smell it despite the space between you. Under the smell of his generic soap you can pick up his natural scent. Leather and eucalyptus and the musk of alpha. You want to drown yourself in it, rub it all over your skin until your own scent is gone. 

“Hi.” You say, goosebumps forming across your skin from the intensity of his gaze. You’d forgotten how sharp it is, how easily he can peel away your layers as he stares at you. 

“Hi.” He says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. You’d forgotten how deep it really is, the roughness around the edges harsher than usual, but you expected that. They had all been a bit hoarse after returning from their group deployment. 

You continue to stare at him, lost in his earthy gaze. The hole in your chest has lessened to almost nothing, slowly the bond repairing itself just from the knowledge he's here, he’s standing in front of you. He’s real. 

You clear your throat, smoothing your hands over your dress. His eyes drop, following the movement. “I thought you'd want to rest.” It's the first thing you can think of to say, speechless in his presence. He must be tired. 

“I slept on the plane.” He shrugs. 

“Yeah, but surely a real bed is a relief.” You say. You’d half expected him to retreat to his room, seeking out a comfortable bed. They’re not all that comfortable, but compared to what he probably was sleeping on these last couple weeks, it must feel like heaven. 

“Probably is.” He says, his gaze shifting back to your face. 

You sink your teeth into your lip as you stare up at him. You’re testing the waters, pushing into new territory as the last walls of the barrier crumble around you. “You could go rest.” You say, shifting on your feet, giving him the option to turn away, to change his mind. “I’m sure you missed your bed.” 

He’s still as a statue as he looms in your doorway, his frame filling it easily, making you feel small. “I'd rather relax in yours.”

Your face warms at his words, not expecting him to say that. The warmth pooling in your stomach intensifies, your heart fluttering in your chest. You’re not sure what happened during his assignment, what caused such a drastic change. You want to know what went through his head, what he was thinking about. Did he picture you at night when he got a moment to rest? Was he imagining you there with him, curled up against him? Or was he picturing you in other positions? 

You might never know, just another secret hidden between you. 

A shudder runs through him. You can see it, the slight twitch in his body, his hands closing into fists. He’s responding to you, to your scent. Such power you could hold over him if you were brave enough to try. 

Such power he could hold over you, if he wanted to. 

“You could come in.” You say, taking half a step back in invitation. 

He doesn’t move, still frozen there like a statue. You wonder how he stays so still, but that was probably part of his training. Be as steady as possible while shooting, how to be invisible even in broad daylight. “You're sure?” He finally rumbles out, his foot shifting just a centimeter, but you catch it. 

You shrug. “Why not? You are part of this pack. You could have entered sooner, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t have minded.” 

He hesitates for just a second before moving his foot from the tile and into your room. He pauses there for a moment, watching you, waiting for a reaction. It’s your turn to stay still, staring up at him as he makes the slow transition into your room, venturing into your sacred space, a place he’s never been in before. 

He moves the other foot, taking the first step over that line, pushing himself past that barrier, leaving it crumbling behind him. 

There’s no going back. 

Something shifts inside you as he enters your room, a weight you hadn’t even realized was there lifting off your shoulders. The hole in your chest is gone, the missing piece back in place. All the tumultuous emotions, all the stress and the fear and the anguish is gone. Your room is safe again, complete again with him in it. Tears prick at your eyes as relief floods through you. No one is getting in, no one can get in now, not with him here. You want to hug him, to kiss him again, drag him onto the bed and make him hold you for a while. 

You don’t. You stay still as he takes in your space, his eyes scanning your belongings and your decorations. He’s never truly seen it in the light. The only time he’d stared into it was that morning when you thought maybe someone had broken in, when your fear had fucked with your emotions enough to think they’d truly let someone enter without their knowledge. 

How silly that thought had been. 

His eyes move to your bed, landing on the giant bear wearing his black shirt. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at it as well, suddenly thinking you should have removed the shirt, shoving it into your laundry and moving the bear back to your desk. Yet, you want him to see it, want him to see that you tried to comfort yourself in his absence, tried to make a placeholder for him. You won’t need it now, though. Not with the real thing standing in your space. 

He shakes his head as he stares at it, rolling his eyes as he lets out a sigh. “Fucking hell.”

NEXT ->

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[qdbs-writes]

How do you think the Cullens would act around a disinterested crush? Maybe they're fated but reader isn't having it lol

(I love your twilight writing btw thank God someone is still doing it 🤤🤤)

ah it has been many moons since I've gotten a twilight request yay!

Cullen Clan Reacting To Their Crush Being Disinterested In Them

Carlisle Cullen

Being alive for just over 400 years tends to give one a good perspective on life and the bigger picture, and Carlisle sure has a pretty good idea of how all things pan out. So you're not interested in him? That's fine, Carlisle can wait for as long as you need to change your mind.

In the meantime, Carlisle will continue to maintain your friendship and continue to show just how hard he's worked to become the kind caring father figure he is. He knows you'll fall for him, eventually.

Esme Cullen

Obviously, she's not going to stop caring about you just because you don't return her feelings. But she might switch up how she shows her affection.

Rather than flirty winks and suspiciously candle-lit wine tastings, she'll back up to more traditionally motherly affections. Making sure you're eating right, baking cookies, etc. And of course, giving you homemade soup when you're sick is still one of her favourite things to do, no need to stop now.

Edward Cullen

Of course, you're not interested, how could anyone love a monster like him? Who did he think he was, thinking he was worthy of your love? Or so his inner monologue goes.

But it's really not that dramatic, it almost never is, Edward just sprung his crush on you suddenly and it caught you off guard. It was largely the excessively long preamble about how he was an irredeemable murderer that put you off first, but of course, he won't realise that until considerably later.

Rosalie Hale

She's a little relieved actually. All her mortal and immortal life, Rosalie has been aggressively pursued by people she wasn't particularly interested in, so the fact that she can crush on someone who isn't really that interested is a wonderful change of pace.

For the first time ever, Rosalie has butterflies in her stomach, she fumbles with her words when she speaks to you, and she feels like a silly, mortal teenage girl again, begging her mother to let her go to the dance just so she can sneak away to catch a glimpse of someone just like you.

Emmett Cullen

You and Emmett had been good friends for a while so when he casually drops a blissful "We should get married" into the conversation, you initially choke on your drink in laughter.

Emmett's a little heartbroken that you'd laugh at something like that, considering that he was being 100% serious. But since you've known him, the both of you have been constantly cracking up jokes, trying to get on each other's nerves, so no wonder you thought this was another one of his pranks. He decides to take this reaction as a blessing, you have no idea he's actually into you, now he knows he has to work out a different way to confess his feelings for you.

Alice Cullen

She's a little confused obviously, having multiple visions of the two of you in a romantic relationship kind of gave her the impression that it might've been going to come true, but your disinterest says something else altogether.

But the worst part is that those damn visions of you and her together keep coming back, taunting her, luring her in deeper to despair with the thoughts of what might be. It's all getting so intense, so she decides to skip town for a bit, see if that changes anything, or at least helps her clear her head.

Jasper Hale

Oh well, so you're not interested in a romantic relationship, so what? Doesn't mean you can't still be friends. Doesn't mean he can't be the charming Southern gentleman he is. Doesn't mean he can't still pull out chairs or open doors for you. Or send anonymous bouquets to your house. Or leave your favourite snacks in your locker when you're having a rough day. Of course not.

It doesn't mean he can't worry about other people who might want to date you. Doesn't mean he can't scare off people who'd be bad for you. I mean, what else are friends for?

[hopelessdazai]

✿ 》 Will you talk to me again?

╰⧼ 🪻 note.. ⧽ ; I don't expect this to do well because its not smut but it'd be nice !! reblogs appreciated, support your creators :)

╰⧼ ☀️ features.. ⧽ ; dazai x gn!reader, WC ; 784

╰⧼ 🌙 contents.. ⧽ ; angst, reader isn't alive, letter from dazai. he's trying very hard to keep himself stable but it's not working™.

To my dearest ______ .

It's been a while, hasn't it? I hope you don't mind me writing to you like this, it's simply been too long. I'm sure you're still angry at me, so seeing you physically isn't my best interest right now! haha, I'm sorry. you know I'm just joking around, don't you? I'd love to see you in person. I'm sure you would've punched my arm if you heard me out loud right now, wouldn't you? I'm glad I'm spared of the bruises.

what does someone put in a letter? that's what I was asking myself before I even began writing. I decided that the best way to do something like this was to just write whatever I feel true as pen touches paper. I hope it makes sense to you, at the least. if I'm pouring my heart out on some paper only for it to be misunderstood, it feels like a waste, no?

though, i'd be lying if i said it wouldn't be rather cute to see you try to fathom what I mean. did you know you scrunch your nose like a bunny sometimes when you're reading? I'm sure you're doing that now too. you'll get wrinkles very at this rate ..

but anyway, I managed to prank kunikida the other day! you remember that hair dye trick I'd told you about? I managed to break into his apartment and swap out his shampoo, at last! he came into work the next day with black hair, it was hilarious, you should've been here! he was so angry with me. beat me black and blue!

oh, _____. I got a new heated blanket for our bed, you know? it took a while to save up for it, and I had to cut out some other necessities, sure. but it makes everything so much better! I hate cold beds, I'm sure you know that better then anyone. haha, back before we moved in together when I'd break into your apartment and crawl into bed with you. I'm sorry for the amount of locks I broke, but your place was so cozy!

... you know, it's been really hard without you here. I miss you so painfully, and I don't mean to call into the void without even an echo, but its killing me to pretend I'm fine about any of this. I'm not fine with this, how am I supposed to be? I wish it was just a bad dream.

I don't want to have to write letters to you anymore, ______. I don't want to have to buy heated blankets to try and stop my arms from aching for your warmth. I don't want you to be angry with me, I'm sorry I didn't apologise to you before you were gone. I shouldn't have been so stupid.

i had so many words on my mind that I was too afraid to say. maybe if I faced myself and told you 'I love you' it would've stopped you leaving.

have you met odasaku yet? has he told you any stories of his time? I wish I could hear your voice again. I wish you could answer my questions. even to hear you scoff at my stupidity again would heal me. I'm sorry I was annoying, I just wanted your attention. it stings knowing I'll never get it again.

I can't keep repeating to myself that you're not gone. I can't keep buying your perfume and pretending that you're in the next room over. your pillow doesn't smell like you anymore.

I wish I could apologise properly. I wish I could've stopped you from leaving the house that night. I wish I could kill myself to join you and yet I know we won't cross paths again in the afterlife. you were always too good for me, ______. i was nothing compared to you.

i picked up a homeless dog yesterday. you'd always wanted a puppy, I'm sorry I never let you bring one home. I named it after you. im trying to get used to them, I promise. if I couldn't save you, I'll save your name.

I'm sorry. if I continue writing, my throat will hurt more. its strange, isn't it? crying makes your throat sore. I forgot what it was like for a while, I remember laying in your arms wondering if I'd ever have a reason to cry again. now I can't seem to help myself.

keep your wings clean for me, white looks good on you. its a shame you couldn't wear the wedding attire i wished to see you in one day. you would've looked amazing.

I'll write again, missing you is the greatest honor.

sincerely, your osamu.

[z3rinn]

# #. COTS AND CUDDLES !!

featuring : linked universe ! It seems that a mix up has occurred when renting rooms in the nearby inn, leaving the group with nine rooms instead of 10 !! but what's this ? the links offer to share a room with you ? what an interesting turn of events.. hmm, but just who do you pick? a zelda version of my twst post !!

this is my introduction to the lu fanbase !! luv yall and I hope you enjoy !

# #. TIME

Time offers you his bed with a gentle smile on his face, hands on your shoulders as he carefully guides you to the bed. His voice is soft, promising that you'd be in good hands while laying with him.

He laid beside you, his back to your front, as to not make you uncomfortable. Its silent and still for a few moments, before shifting closer to him. You can't help but press your chest up against his warm back, throwing your arms around him as you giggled. Time stilled, feeling your face press up against his built back. He chuckled as you fell asleep, a soft smile forming on his flushed face.

He doesn't shift much as the night goes on. Besides cuddling further into you, he sometimes turns on his back, laying your head on his chest. Time's arms wrap around your body, as the two of you snore the first of many nights away.

# #. TWILIGHT

Twilight takes your hand in his as he brings you to the room. Sweat dripped down your face as you looked back a the other boys- Twilight didn't even ask! He just straight up dragged you. But honestly? Could you really complain? It was Twilight for gods sake. It was a dream come true to just be besides him.

You lay on your side, facing away from Twilight as you try to rest. You can't help but notice how his eyes seem to be piercing thru you. He shifts onto the bed, your back to his chest. You could feel his breath against your neck as he shuffled closer into you. Oh my god. This man was going to kill you with his stare- jasajkqdkauiksuef. Twilight chuckled softly to himself, noticing you squirm uncomfortably. Before you knew it, however, Twilights hand wrapped around your waist.

You couldn't sleep much that night. Maybe it was because you didn't want to bother Twilight by moving in your sleep. Or maybe it was because you were too flushed to do so. Between his soft breaths against your bare neck, accompanied by the way he slightly rubbed your waist as you slept. You were never going to be able to sleep at this rate. Either way, Twilight had an amazing night.

# #. WILD

Like Twilight and Time, Wild offers his bed with no hesitation, that smile on his face growing even more so once you agree. He grabs you by the waist, carrying you bridal style all tye way to the bed. You couldn't help but the thoughts that ran over you due to his eagerness.

Wild falls asleep as soon as he hits the bed, meaning he's all over you as soon as he falls asleep. His legs are thrown over yours, arms wrapped around your waist in a tight grip. He often moves around in his sleep, and drags your body wherever he moves. No matter what you try he just won't let loose, it's honestly better to just let him hold on and move around until he wakes up. He's a great cuddle buddy tho!

Sometimes, late at night, you may catch him cuddling into your chest, listening to your heartbeat as he sleeps, his arms are wrapped tightly around you, as a small smile grace's his lips. It might even grow if you pet his head as you rest side by side.

# #. SKY

Sky is the kind of person most people would want to sleep by. He has a calming personality and a gentle aura that just draws you towards him. So how could you ever say no to his proposal?

He lays face to face beside you. His beautiful blue eyes gazing deeply into yous. Seriously what was with these men trying to swoon you at every turn smh. Although Sky seems like he's trying to start something with his alluring gaze, he sticks to himself. His hands and legs stay on his side of the bed, although, while the two of you lay under the soft blanket you may feel him brush up against you.

Deep into the night, however, Sky lets his body relax against yours, hands and legs intertwining with your own. He held your hands in his own, his body pressing up against yours. His head pressed against your own, as light snores left his lips. You cant help but smile at him. Sky loves sleep. But he loves it more when it's with you.

# #. WARRIORS

Warriors gives you a flirtatious smirk as he asks the question- but deep down you know he's squealing like a little girl finally getting to talk to her crush for the first time. It was funny watching him act all Macho as he laid on the bed, raising his eyebrows as he beckoned you over. This guy is a total nerd istg.

Honestly just to spite him it'd be kind of funny to just sleep on the floor- but then you remember that he's actually a pretty boy so can you really say no? No. You can't. At first you may think he'll be all up on you as you lay together- but in reality he just sticks to his side of the bed, out of your space. Little words are spoke between the two of you, just a quick goodnight with a gaze that leaves your heart melting, before he's off to sleep.

It doesn't take that long for either of you to fall asleep. But soon Warriors arms come to wrap around you. He’s holding you close to his body as he succumbs to sleep. Too close in fact. It’s as if he’s hugging you to death with how tight his grip is. However, you cant help but snuggle into him. It's not uncomfortable being in his arms, in fact, it may just be one of the best hugs you had ever experienced.

# #. LEGEND

Legend probably didn't invited you to sleep beside him. No, it was probably your fault that the two of you were stuck together. Instead of him inviting you, you invited himself into his bed. Honestly, its kind of funny.

He's probably scooted all the way towards the edge of the bed, facing away from you, and frowning in annoyance. The two of you definitely sleep back to back, no questions asked. Mainly because if he caught a look at your sleeping face he'd get all embarrassed for sure. There's is no contact or words spoken between the two of you, just utter and complete silence as he tries to sleep.

But deep into the night he shuffles closer to you, burying his head in your chest for warmth and comfort. His arms wrap loosely around your hips as his legs press against yours. It's very tempting to take a picture but you decide against it, keeping his head there for the rest of the night. When he awakes he's in a for a major surprise!!

# #. HYRULE

Hyrule is immediately nervous when he poses the question. Would you say no? Ugh that'd be so embarrassing for him if you did- would you even ever talk to him again? All these doubts consume his mind- rushing in on a never ending loop- until you agree with a smile on your face. That's still doesn't stop how nervous he is while laying besides you though.

Its awkward for a bit as you and Hyrule lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling as you talked the night away. He relaxes as time goes on. His hands are laid across his chest, a smile on his face as he speaks. You converse about his adventures, world, and vise versa. He spoke to you so kindly and gently. That you couldn't help but giggle alongside him.

You talk deep into the night, but suddenly the waves of tiredness consume you both. Accompanied by the cold air and the long and excruciating day you just went thru, you almost fell asleep immediately. You and Hyrule cuddle close for comfort. It's hard being in a different world- away from all your friends and family. But being besides him made it just a bit better.

# #. FOUR

Four is a bit embarrassed to be sharing a room with you, yet he gravbs your hand, intertwining your fingers as he leads you to the room. He tells you he can shift into his minish as you guys sleep. Giving the both of you more room and space in the bed. Yet you disagree, mainly because don't want to crush him obviously-

So instead you just cuddle him close to your chest, holding him against you as you 'immediately' fall asleep. You can feel him tense and squirm around in your hold- yet he doesnt dare do anything. Four can't move- that would disrupt your sleep! His mind is running, his face flushing a deep red, ad he feels you hold him tighter. How the hell was he going to get out of this?!

He settles down in your embrace, slowly succumbing to sleep after his mini heart attack. He moves up your chest slightly, resting his head just below your neck. His legs intertwine with your own as his hands wrap around you in a tight hug. You can feel his soft, yet hot breathing against your neck, making you smile against his forehead.

..

Honestly just make a giant dog pile with all of them and sleep together. That'll be fun!

I love all these Links <3

[g1rld1ary]

overheard that she was nineteen - james potter x reader

wc: 1058

cw: nothing, one swear, reader is sad on their birthday, implied fem!reader but i don't think any pronouns

chat how many aura points do i lose for crying in the literal first 20 minutes of my nineteenth birthday :/ don't think about this fic too hard or you'll see it's more of a diary entry than work of fiction oopsie :')

You weren't feeling very special. To be quite honest, your day had been totally shit. It was your birthday, your nineteenth birthday and everyone had forgotten. Well, that wasn't true exactly, but nobody cared. Your parents had barely said 'happy birthday' when you called them, and only one of your friends had texted you. A sweet message, but still kind of depressing.

You knew it shouldn't have been a big deal, no one cared about nineteen, right? Eighteen was the big birthday and you'd had a good enough day last year, so you weren't really sure why this year had brought you down so much.

Maybe it was just because your love of birthdays was never reciprocated. A person's birthday could be the most exciting day of the year, and you were of the opinion that it should be, if possible. You were the one who showed up with a hand-baked cake on your friend's doorstep, without fail. It was something you enjoyed doing undoubtedly, you spent ages picking out which colour the icing should be and what edible decorations should go on top.

On top of that, you considered your defining talent to be writing cards. It was something you took pride in, penning almost-essays that encapsulated the breadth and depth of your love for your nearest and dearest. Proclamations of never-ending adoration, gratitude for years of friendship, the insides of your heart and soul sitting amongst fresh ink and scribbled hearts. You signed your name with a heart and a flower every time. Plus, you made particular efforts to come up with a creative pun or doodle for the front, just to keep things interesting.

So birthdays were things you held in high regard, and having yours seemingly mean nothing to anyone else was a bit of a mood killer if you were being totally honest. Still, what could you do? You picked yourself up, ate an uninspiring breakfast and went to uni.

You felt more anonymous than usual in class. With the semester having started only a week prior, you were in a sea of new people, none of them having any way of knowing it was your birthday, and you weren't quite at the point where you were begging for well-wishes from people you didn't particularly care about. And so you took notes, put your hand up for the participation grade and dreamed of your own cake and candles.

By the end of the day you were exhausted. The classes were long anyway, but carrying around your own personal grey cloud was taking a toll on your body and mind. It was at the car park when your phone dinged; James.

are you coming over tonight?

please

You smiled a little despite your sour mood. Even if James didn't seem like he was fully aware of your outlook on birthdays, being with him always made you feel better.

It'd already been dark for an hour or so by the time you reached the flat he shared with the boys, the winter weather making the sun disappear at four o'clock. You knocked on his door softly, unable to pluck up the strength to even make your presence easily known. James must've been waiting for you though, since you heard the heavy pad of his feet almost instantaneously.

The sight of him nearly took your breath away, though nothing was out of the ordinary. He was still the same old James, his glasses slightly askew on his nose, but he was looking at you with such softness that you felt the tears spike behind your eyes. You tried to push them down.

"I thought we'd have a bit of an early dinner. I know you won't have eaten at uni." He took your bag, setting it by the entry table softly. You managed to nod, hopefully not giving away all your awful feelings. You tried not to be cut up that he hadn't wished you a happy birthday yet.

All of your melancholy had been for nothing, you realised, when James led you to the dining table. He'd gone the full mile, with a cheesy red tablecloth and single candle as the centrepiece.

"Happy birthday, my love," He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You couldn't help it, the tears rolling down your cheeks before you even realised. Once they started you had no chance, sobs wracking through your body as James stood beside you, bewildered.

"Is this not okay? Do you not like it?" He fretted as you cried, and you rushed to reassure him.

"I love it, Jamie, promise. It's just," You managed a half laugh through your bout of tears, "I thought no one cared. I can't believe you've done this for me." James' brow furrowed deeper than you'd ever seen it before as he pulled you into a tight hug.

"I would do anything for you, love. I mean it."

Once your tears had subsided you had a lovely dinner, James making you double over with laughter as all thoughts of your previous shit day dissolved under the weight of the homemade pasta sitting in your stomach.

Just before the night died down, James presented you with a small box, wrapped in the most beautiful silky ribbon. You glanced up at him curiously, untying it slowly. Inside was the most beautiful bracelet you'd ever seen. Connected with a heart-shaped clasp and decorated with a single charm, a love letter. You were embarrassed by the tears working their way back up to your lash line, but James looked delighted by the reaction, he lived to make you happy.

"Thank you," You whispered, "I love you."

James didn't have to say it back for you to know, but he did anyway because it made him happy.

Maybe your birthday wasn't the flashy event you might've wanted, however deep down, but you were strangely okay with it. Despite the fact that no one showed up to your door with a hand-baked cake or essay-length card, you had James, and James would've pulled the stars down from the sky if he thought it would boost your mood. That was enough.

[cannibalbuffe]

hi! I've honestly been craving some qpr headcanons with Alastor as someone who's also aroace! The concept piques my curiosity so much considering most of the stuff with him is purely romantic (no offense to those writers, I just wanna see more qpr stuff! :])

Of course! But do forgive me, annon, I got so carried away with this 😅. I just really like Alastor a lot.

I ended up writing some backstory to your relationship first, but I highlighted the start of the proper qpr headcanons if you feel like skipping that.

Obligatory I'm sorry if this is ooc, I'm still getting used to writing about these characters. This is also all based on my own perception of him.

(Also, I am aware that qprs are very different from one another and there is no single mold for a qpr, I'm just going off of what I think it would be like with Alastor.)

Uhh, I also finished this at 1 AM, so forgive any mistakes. And I'm pretty sure I changed the verb conjugations(? Is this how you say that in English?) from present to past at some point. Sorry. Enough with the A/Ns now. Hope you enjoy!

Alastor queerplatonic relationship headcanons

(gender neutral reader, Alastor x reader)

‼️Trigger-warning‼️: mentions of cannibalism (not graphic), a single mention of tongue-kissing and making out (spoiler: he doesn't want either of those things in this work.) Usage of the word queer, but not as a slur. Alastor is a grandpa and you have to explain LGBTQ+ stuff to him, but he gets it.

› At first, before you were close, it's likely that he didn't see you as an equal.

› Truly, in his eyes, it seems not really is his equal. He is the most powerful overlord in hell and he knows it.

› Unless you are someone he holds in high regard (and this is mostly based on vibes, barely anything to do with power, as we can see by how he is with Lucifer of all people) before your first meeting, like Zestial, you won't be on equal footing at first.

› You only really start getting close when his perception of you shifts.

› You respect his boundaries, you are interesting, you and him share quite a few interests (or not really, but you're at least interested in hearing about his), and you're, surprisingly, pretty wise and mature.

› And caring. I personally believe he would be drawn to that in a way that he may not even understand fully- or realize it at all.

› Still, the point is. He respects you, and you respect him.

› (And not in the way some others do, where they're only "respectful" out of fear. You would act like this regardless of his power.)

› This, by the way, is important. You don't treat him like a superior, but as an equal.

› You'd think someone like him would love to be treated like a superior, and it's true. He very much does.

› But he has to admit to himself that it does feel nice whenever someone isn't shaking in their boots and can hold really good conversations with him while still not being pushy, annoying or just generally disrespectful.

› Anyways.

› Ever since you became friends (which took long), one could say, you just kept becoming closer and closer.

› You were the first one to be vulnerable with him, of course. It happened on accident, but you trusted him enough for that.

› You were also the first one to share any more intimate information with him. Something you wouldn't tell just anyone.

› Between this, your conversations, and maybe even helping each other around (honestly, he probably helps you more than you do him, but you always offer it and always in a sweet way, never condescending, and he appreciates that.)

› He eventually felt more comfortable sharing personal things with you too.

› (He may have distanced himself a bit when he realized this, but it was short-lived. You can't be without each other for so long, and you were pretty upset at his suddenly withdrawal. You may not have mentioned it to him, but he could tell, and as much as he hated to admit it, it hurt him to see you sad because of him.)

› This marks the beginning of the path toward your queerplatonic relationship.

› I mean, you didn't initially label it as such, but it definitely started there.

› Surprisingly, I feel like the first one to ever do any sort of affectionate gesture towards the other was him.

› You knew he didn't like to be touched, so you didn't.

› But! He just started getting more and more comfortable with touching you. At first it was hands on your shoulders, or putting his arm over them.

› I can even see a head pat or two, which he probably passed off as some sort of joke the first few times, but, if you liked them so much, just became a thing he does to you.

› And then one day you, completely absent-mindedly, intertwined your arm with his while walking around.

› When you noticed you had done it and he hadn't said anything, you questioned him about it.

› "Alastor, I'm sorry I didn't ask... is this alright?"

› "This?... Oh, you mean the arms? Ah, dear, don't worry, if it weren't I would have simply told you so!"

› From them on you only got more and more physically affectionate with each other. At first you would usually be the one to start it, but eventually you were both shockingly equal in doing so.

› (You still would always ask if you could touch him beforehand, but after a while he just gave you a free-pass.)

› Not a lot in public, though. Mostly just hand holding, or intertwining arms (if in public, that is.)

› Alastor also was so protective of you. You were the person he treasured most, after all.

› Well, demon.

› Even if you told him you were going to be okay, he would watch out nonetheless. He couldn't afford to lose you, not when he's never trusted and cared for a person this much.

› You two also cuddle a lot. You were the first one to ask, as usual, but now both of you feel weird sleeping alone.

› Alastor loves being the big spoon, if you're doing that.

› But he is also quite fond of occasionally being the little spoon, although he wouldn't be caught dead admitting it.

› A hobby you two do together is cooking. Cooking with Alastor is fun... especially if you're okay with cannibalism.

› But if you don't like that, he won't insist, of course.

› He's pretty good at cooking, though! If you're also good at it, then great. If not, he'll tease you about it (in a friendly way), but still teach you.

› On teasing, he teases you quite a bit, but never in a mean way. If you don't mind, of course.

› You also may tease him occasionally, but he doesn't appreciate you teasing him in public.

› The two of you also have a good amount of inside jokes that probably confuse the hell out of the others.

› Kissing... well. I don't really see Alastor as the type who would enjoy kissing on the lips too much.

› Tongue is out of question for him, as well as any sort of making out, but otherwise... if you like it, he can do that for you.

› He might actually like a peck or two. An acquired taste for him. Don't overdo it, though.

› Of course, him being from the 1930s and not very familiar with anything LGBTQ+ related, he would, at first, be somewhat confused by the request.

› You would probably have to explain to him that nothing is inherently romantic, especially not if you don't want it to be.

› "A kiss on the lips? Well... we aren't courting, Y/n."

› "We can put our own meanings to things, though. Would you like this kiss to be romantic?"

› "Definitely not!"

› "Well, me neither. So it's not!"

› "... That is very sound logic! I can't believe I've never thought of this myself."

› Kisses on the rest of the face are something else, though. He does enjoy it whenever you kiss him on the cheek. He himself might occasionally kiss you on the forehead.

› But overall I don't think he's big on kissing.

› If you want to really solidify that you're in a queerplatonic relationship you'd also have to explain what that means to him, sorry.

› Again, he's old and not up to date with things.

› Thankfully he understands things easily.

› "I see... I suppose we do have quite the queer relationship, don't we? And it is certainly platonic. I don't see why not!"

› Going back to vulnerability. It will never feel fully natural for him to just be vulnerable with you — or anyone else, for the matter.

› (In case you couldn't tell, he's using the word queer as meaning odd (and doing a little pun. You know. Because it's a. Queerplatonic relationship. Queer. Hehehehe), as it defies the norm of what a platonic relationship usually looks like, despite being one.)

› But you know him well enough at this point to recognize whenever there's something going on with him.

› And if you show concern and give him enough time he will share whatever it is with you.

› If it's not anything too big he might even reach out to you first.

› He can also read you like a book and gives surprisingly good advice, and is also pretty good at comforting you.

› You are the only person allowed at his studio while he's live on the radio. You usually read as he speaks in the background, his voice is very relaxing. He enjoys having you around.

› He's also particularly gentlemanly to you, more than to the others. When you're with him you never have to open a single door yourself, for one. If it's raining, he'll hold the umbrella for the two of you. When walking together on the sidewalk, he's always on the side closest to the street instead of you.

› You two often go out for dinner. If you also fancy some cannibalism, he will definitely show you his favorite restaurants around. If not he will just pick the best non-cannibal places (but you know those are not his favorites, haha.)

› He just cares about you a lot, even if it took him long to admit (it may have seemed fast-paced during this, but Alastor is someone who really takes long to get close to.)

› And you care about him lot too!

› (And you're probably never going to be in a life-threatening situation again, at least not at the hands of most demons. Who would ever want trouble with Alastor?)

[yandere-romanticaa]

I need some Yandere Bokuto and Yandere Akaashi! Maybe together because of the friendship bokuto and akaashi have if thats alright (If not then do it seperate)

This would be one of the most functional pairs to have, even despite their stark and clashing personalities.

You most likely met them in highschool and it was a blast to be around them. Albeit, a bit intense at times. Bokuto was incredibly difficult to keep up with, especially if you're on the more introverted side. He wants you to attend absolutely every single game he and Akaashi are in, he's not even against you coming to practice either! Please do just that, it boosts him so much!

Even if he does get distracted by your smile sometimes but who cares! He certainly does not!

Bokuto is like a whirlwind storm - you never know when to expect him but you know that once he steps close there will be nothing but chaos. He's fun, kind. Gentle even. He tries to be, for you. He can be oblivious towards your feelings sometimes but he always has your best interests at heart.

He would never forgive himself if something happened to you.

Bokuto is needy, incredibly so. If he's not holding or kissing you 24/7 then what's even the point? You give him energy, your mere presence gives him drive and confidence like nothing else. Soon enough his presence starts to become suffocating. He is so deeply intertwined in your life, like sticky glue which you can't shake off no matter how hard you try. He managed to force his way into every possible crevice inside your life and he is always aware of what he's doing. His perfectionist nature commands him to do so.

However, if Bokuto is the powerful storm itself, Akaashi is the calm before the storm.

He lurks. Constantly.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depends who you're asking) there are times when Bokuto can't be with you no matter how badly he wants to be. Akaashi becomes something of a second shadow of yours, constantly tailing after you, taking care of you in the most subtle yet gentle ways. He offers you water regularly, he has you wear his warm jacket on warm days and he regularly chastises you if you think of doing something stupid. He's not completely sweet to you though, his dry personality does not allow for that.

Akaashi throws all sorts of remarks your way but they're never hurtful. Bokuto is usually the victim for his quick witted jabs, but, when he says them to you they're just. Different. They're laced with affection and playfulness but his stoic face masks the true meaning behind his words. He keeps tabs on you in any way he can and Bokuto quickly catches on to this.

They don't have a proper discussion about the situation they're in. The two just come to a silent agreement that they will share you. They already know each other well and their trust cannot be shaken. Neither one is against sharing you with the other.

There are times when you are a fun trio of idiots, simply living life. You have dinner and goof off. Bokuto makes you laugh and Akaashi feeds you fresh food from the table. Bokuto has an iron clad grip on your waist while Akaashi blocks your exit. Despite the lighthearted atmosphere, there's a thick layer of tension in the air. They smile, but it's not reaching their eyes.

Could they be hiding something?

You are paranoid, you rationalize. What could these two clowns have something to hide?

Time passes, you're all still as thick as thieves. Bokuto has become a professional volleyball player and Akaashi became a manga editor. Due to his strict schedule, Bokuto can't see you as often as he'd like... Which is all day, every day. At least in highschool he had the excuse of classes but now?

He's got nothing!

That's where his good old pal Akaashi comes in.

He sends Bokuto photos daily. The duo have countless folders dedicated to you, all of which have different themes and aesthetics. Akasshi sneaks in as many as he can and you won't ever catch him in the act.

He has years of experience snapping photos of you in every way imaginable. If you ever had the misfortune of looking into his computer files, he'd go to jail for life.

Despite their hectic schedules, both of them manage to keep a tight leash on you. Bokuto is quick to make work of anyone who has any sort of romantic inkling towards you, unless Akaashi tears into them first with his sharp tongue.

Neither option is safe. If you're on the receiving end of either, you will be left in a puddle of your own tears. Perhaps even blood.

You cry and complain to them - why have all your friends left you? Was there something wrong with you? Why was no one looking at you, what sort of defect did you have?

Akaashi's shirt is soaked in your bitter tears as he has his hands on your shoulders while Bokuto sits behind you, his chest pressed straight against your back. He is doing everything he can to not pounce on you right there and then but he knows better - patience is key. Pity he lacks that quality.

Luckily for him though, Akaashi has it in spades.

And they sit there with you on the sofa, the soft pitter patter of the rain hitting the window as you sob your heart out towards your two closest friends, oblivious to all of the things that they have done. You don't know how many people Bokuto had to beat up in order to get you where you are. You don't know how many people Akaashi had to scare the living crap out of in order to have you in his arms.

Bokuto gently blows in your ear, most likely in a teasing manner. You look up and in your shaky gaze are met with Akaashi's hungry stare, his dark eyes boring so deep into your own that you feel as though he could swallow you whole. A pair of powerful arms wrap themselves around your waist, securing you in place as Bokuto places his lips on your neck. He nibbles on the soft flesh as Akaashi leans in and steals the kiss he had dreamed about all those years ago.

Finally, they have you. No one is coming for you, they made sure of it. You don't need anyone anymore. They are your world from this point onwards.

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

french press

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

wc: 1.2k reader: femme/gender neutral (gender warnings: reader is wearing lingerie, reader "pushes t*ts together" -- you've been warned) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- also some angst and some funny stuff summary: jiwoong has a biiit of a jealousy problem. he's so jealous rn that he won't even touch you :( with his permission, you take matters into your own hands (and onto his thigh). *ੈ✩‧₊˚ oh helloooo. long time no see. decided to write something for the hell of it. maybe i'll write some more soon...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

~

warnings: 18+ explicit smut, thigh-riding, penetrative sex (reader receiving), descriptions of cum (reader's and jw's), unprotected sex, cumming inside, jealousy/toxicity, swearing, pet names (baby, angel)

also the title is VERY clever. french press: french masseusse pierre and... mating press. i'll leave now.

~

“baby,” you whine, pushing your arms together a bit to accentuate your tits. “don’t you wanna touch? you love touching my tits.”

the sheer, black lingerie set you were saving for a special occasion is hugging every curve of your body perfectly as you straddle your boyfriend. a garter belt squeezing around your right thigh, you know you’re irresistible to anyone with a pulse.

but apparently your boyfriend has passed away since he sat down on the couch with a huff twenty minutes ago. he’s still warm though and that’s permission enough for you to let him have it.

“oh my god,” you groan; smacking your hand on the leather armrest like a frustrated child. “woongie! want you to touch me so bad.”

“well, you should’ve thought of that before you let another man put his hands all over you,” jiwoong answers-- head turning to the side in the ultimate display of pettiness. 

you sigh exasperatedly. “it was a massage, woongie. a professional one that you paid for!”

“so?” he asks with a pout. “are you suggesting i’m a cuckold by my own doing?”

“you are the only one suggesting that actually,” you reply, running your hands down his clothed chest. “the only thing i’m suggesting is that you fuck me. and i’m strongly suggesting it.”

“oh yeah?” jiwoong responds, one eyebrow raised in interest. “are you sure those words aren’t actually meant for pierre: the unnecessarily handsome french masseuse?”

“you literally gave me a gift certificate for my birthday!” you exclaim, hitting his chest lightly in frustration. “baby, i tried to request an ugly massage therapist. the woman at the desk looked at me like i was being rude. and i was! for you.”

jiwoong’s eyes go straight to your barely-covered core and you think for a second he’s finally about to give in. “you asked for an ugly masseuse and she gave you a former louis vuitton runway model? i should’ve just given you tickets to magic mike live!”

“kim jiwoong-ah, if you don’t fck me right now, i swear to god,” you threaten emptily, sinking down on one of his grey sweatpant-adorned thighs. “i’m just gonna use you however i want.”

jiwoong folds his arms across his chest in a final act of defiance, attention returning to the tv screen. “knock yourself out.”

it takes everything in you not to whine like a little spoiled brat, but you manage to suppress it. instead, you grind a little harder down onto jiwoong’s thigh. his legs are lazily spread apart in the most enticing way. you could reach right down his pants and grab him in your hands (a tried and true method that jiwoong loves), but you have something to prove too.

so you repeat the grinding motion, your heat connecting again with the toned flesh of your boyfriend’s perfect thighs. at first it’s just for show-- you need his attention and you’ll do anything you have to to get it back.

but after a few moments, a soft moan escapes your throat. jiwoong’s breath audibly hitches; his body stiffening a bit at the sound of your pleasure. despite this, his eyes stay fixed on the screen.

as a familiar knot grows just below your stomach, you almost start to forget about your goal. maybe it’s desperation speaking, but riding your boyfriend’s thigh is actually a lot more stimulating than you thought it’d be. 

“fuck,” you whine, increasing your pace involuntarily. your hands are gripping the back of the couch, eyes closing as you rapidly approach your high.

suddenly, jiwoong’s thigh grows harder-- a sturdier surface for you to grind on. he’s flexing his muscles for you, helping you reach your climax like the perfect boyfriend he is.

“gonna cum all over my thigh, baby?” jiwoong asks, voice already noticeably fucked out. it’s not a mystery who won this game. “gonna make a mess all over my pants like a fucking angel?”

“i--... oh my god, i--...” you cry, strong hands finding your hips and guiding them down for you onto his thigh. you place your hand gently at the base of jiwoong’s neck, pulling at the collar of his shirt and toying with his collarbone. “i--... ‘m cumming...”

pleasure taking over, you reach your high as jiwoong continues to guide your hips for you. “woongie, love you. love you so much.”

your eyes flutter open to see jiwoong’s cheeks flushed, his eyes locked on your core. you look down to find that you have made a pretty little mess, honey dripping from you and soaking his grey sweatpants. he lifts you ever so slightly up and back down, watching as your juices seep through your sheer panties and onto him.

jiwoong meets your gaze for less than a second before you’re wrestled off the couch and onto your back on the carpeted floor below. carpet aside, it’s not a painless fall and as your boyfriend is hungrily ripping his pants off and burying his cock inside you, you decide it’s a good time to start playing again.

“oh my god, woongie,” you complain, knowing that your back’s gonna hurt even worse in the morning. “are you trying to make me need another massage?”

“no. more. massages,” jiwoong growls, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. “unless i’m the one giving them.”

“fuck,” you whine, pulling him even deeper inside you as you wrap your legs around him. trapping him. holding him hostage exactly where his possessive ass wants to be. “surely you don’t think you’re as skilled as a professional masseuse?”

“i’ll get certified,” he manages to grunt, grabbing hold of your thighs and pushing them up to your chest in a mating press. “or would you prefer pierre’s cock inside you instead?”

“that’s not fair,” you reply, absolutely relishing in your reinstated role of bratty sub. “how can i choose if i’ve never seen both options?”

“you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” jiwoong asks, kneading your thighs mercilessly-- striking his palm across the side with a gorgeous smack. “you’re gonna kill me so you can fuck pierre and then kill him too.”

“i’ll let you live a little longer if you cum inside me,” you promise, running your hand through his hair as he stares at you helplessly. “please, woongie. need you to fill me up.”

you can see it in his eyes: he’ll give you anything you want. he’d even let you fuck pierre if you really wanted to. but you don’t. not even a little bit. you just want jiwoong.

“fuck, i love you so much, baby,” he pants as his thrusts grow shallower and more sporadic. “gonna fill up this perfect... little...”

his hips finally spasm; a sweet moan swallowed down as you feel him spill into you. you sigh contentedly at the warmth inside of you, your boyfriend laying his head on your chest-- letting go of your legs from where he’d been pinning them and collapsing on top of you in exhaustion.

you wrap your thighs around jiwoong’s waist, making sure he can’t escape (he doesn’t want to).

jiwoong’s jealousy issues weren’t really harmful. he knew you’d never actually leave him for another man; what he always seemed to forget is that you’d never even dream of it. and besides, whatever misunderstanding arose always ended in fiery, passionate sex like this. 

so could anyone really blame you for making up sexy french massage therapists just to make your boyfriend jealous from time to time? not to worry... you’ll give jiwoong a couple months to recover from pierre before you drop your next fabrication on him: dante, the sensual italian chef.

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Reddest Flags, Longest Nights

⩙ Summary: The year is 1989. The Berlin Wall has fallen, and Nintendo have just overseen the release of the Game Boy. The first ever episode of Baywatch has just aired, and Ted Bundy has just been executed by electric chair. Vox's relationship with the Radio Demon is on the rocks. Their solution? To add a third person to their bedroom: you

⩙ Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Vox X reader X Alastor, Radiostatic is a committed relationship (well, they're trying), Reader is a girl and she has a pussy, tentacle sex

⩙ Other notes: This is set in a sexy alternate universe for the characters in @bapple117's Bluest Monday

“I'm not for sale,” you say. It's a truly stupid, suicidal thing to say, with the Television Demon's talons wrapped around your arm, and his associate the Radio Demon watching with amused interest as Vox pulls you into their private booth.

“Come now, dear, that surely isn't true.” It's not Vox who speaks, but Alastor, his tones the same genial, cheerful ones he uses for his broadcasts. “Everyone has a price, after all.”

“Everybody fuckin' wants something, yeah.” Vox agrees, releasing your arm once he's convinced that you won't immediately bolt away. He's not slurring his words, but his movements are clumsier than you would expect. He's drunk, you realize. Both of them are. “People want power. Money. Control.”

“Sex,” says Alastor, flashing a grin at Vox, who makes a noise like someone just tuned him to a dead channel, his face filling briefly with static.

“Shh-yeah, some people want sex, Al. That's a normal fuckin' thing to want.”

Alastor's smile grows, a little smug, a little cruel, and his red eyes turn to you. “What about you, dear? Do you want sex?”

“Al! You can't just fuckin' ask a girl that!”

“Last I checked I was better informed on etiquette than you, old chum,” Alastor's smile slides sideways. “And besides, if our interests align, there's a deal to be had.”

You hadn't come to the club intending to sell anything, but the two demons are adept negotiators- Alastor assuring you that no, he doesn't need your soul per se, just your services, services of a personal, private nature, and aren't you inclined to give those, isn't it in your own best interests? All the while Vox is giving a more direct incentive, the front of his boxy face focused on you, entirely you, dexterous talons skating over the exposed skin of your forearms with enough pressure to make you shiver, with the implied promise that he could touch you in less socially acceptable places, if only you would agree to what the Radio Demon was offering.

You're tempted. You're so, so tempted. You know that this is a bad idea, that these two are bad news to be around, that you should just go back to your normal sinner life, but instead you find yourself leaning in to listen more closely to Alastor's solicitations, and Vox, still touching you, grows bolder, his hand dropping below the table to stroke your thigh.

The top of your thigh at first, skating the seams of your clothes, then dropping to your inner knee, Vox's claw drawing a daring line from your knee and up your inner thigh to your panties.

Your breath hitches, and Alastor tips his head at you, expression amused. “You seem distracted. Would you like me to repeat that last part?”

“Would ya like me to repeat that last part?” asks Vox, his grin as wide as his face and lecherous.

“I can make him stop, if you'd prefer,” says Alastor, with a casual menace.

It's hard to listen to the full terms and conditions with Vox's fingers massaging the fabric of your panties, and maybe that's the intention, but you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop, or even to ask Alastor to ask him to stop.

“What've you got to lose?” says Vox, his heavy box of a head nudging against your shoulder as the pads of his fingers press against your now slick-drenched gusset. Your thighs press together, his hand trapped between.

“Of course,” says Alastor. “If you'd like to think about it-”

“Oh, she's thinkin' about it, Al,” says Vox, his tone laden with filth.

“I'll do it!” you blurt, and both of their faces light like pinball machines. “I mean, yes.”

“Splendid,” chirps Alastor. “Now, as a rule, I will close a deal with a handshake, but for this-”

A kiss.

You've never imagined kissing the most terrifying demon in all of Pentagram city, so you have no idea what to expect, but Alastor's hand on your cheek is a feather light touch, a swirl of green magic around you. His lips on yours are chaste, brushing rather than prying, in stark contrast to Vox, who takes the opportunity to push your panties to the side with his fingers and stroke a slow line along your slick-coated inner lips. You whine against Alastor's mouth, and he slides his hand to the back of your head, holding you there as the deal is sealed.

That’s how you go home with them, Alastor holding the green chain that fastens to the shackle around your neck. Vox drives uptown, away from Voxtek, away from the Radio Demon’s broadcasting tower, and you end up in a quiet, well-appointed apartment in the most nondescript tower block that you have ever seen.

You note the shoe rack; the way that Vox’s shiny black dress shoes are stacked up next to Alastor’s bespoke deer-soled boots, and it occurs to you that this isn’t just Vox’s playboy apartment, as you’d expected. The two of them live together. There is only one bedroom.

“So, what now?” asks Alastor, holding out a gentlemanly arm for you to lean on as you remove your shoes in the entrance. “I believe your suggestion was to try new things, yes?”

“Jesus, Al.” Vox’s sigh is heavy. “We’ll just go to the bedroom, undress, and, uh, see where we go, yeah?”

“See where we go?” Alastor’s voice inflects upwards into his upper registers, the sound of a capacitor about to burst, and you realize that you are in considerable danger.

Alastor is grinning, but his body language is stressed, his ears back, lips pulled back over his gums to show the most of his teeth. In your second possibly suicidal move of the night, you squeeze his arm, where you have been holding him since taking off your shoes.

Alastor’s gaze snaps to you, eyes dangerously red, but there’s uncertainty in the corners of his smile. He kissed you, back in the club, you reason, so he can’t find you entirely objectionable. You lower your gaze, sliding a hand up his forearm, and his ears shift, subtly. He exhales, a little of the tension going out of his chest, and you slide your hand to his upper arm, pushing him back against the coat rack behind him, pressing him against an electric blue shell jacket, and he just lets you.

If Alastor were half a foot shorter you would kiss him, but as it is he stares down at you, his smile a question, until finally he gets what you’re trying to do, and bends his knees fractionally so that you can stand on tiptoes and press your face to his.

You can feel his smile under your lips, parting as you dare to pry, your tongue finding his teeth, and then the tip of his tongue, cautious against yours. You can feel the little shiver of his breath, his hand down your back. At first you think he’s about to slip his hand under your waistband, but instead he spreads his large hand under your ass, cupping it, and lifts you off your feet.

You feel a moment of vertigo, and a swoop in your stomach that is definitely not vertigo as Alastor holds you with your face level to his and slips his entire tongue into your mouth. You took him initially as a conservative kisser, but perhaps he was holding back before. You groan against his lips, feeling heat spread into your lower half as his tongue explores your mouth, the tip probing the roof of your mouth, the soft flesh of the insides of your cheeks. It’s not just the kiss but the feeling of helplessness that it brings, of being held aloft by a being so much more powerful than you. Your knees press the coats either side of Alastor’s waist as he cradles your ass, your tongue lapping against his, eyes closed, arms locking around his shoulders. By the time he breaks the kiss you are gasping, heart pounding in your chest, and Alastor gives you an appraising look.

“You are very small,” Alastor comments, his face a little flushed from the kissing. He doesn’t set you down, however, shifting his forearm under you as you wrap your ankles around his waist, his staff in his other hand.

“Ah, she’ll do fine, Al,” says Vox with a glance over his shoulder, unbuttoning his shirt as he stalks through the living area and into the bedroom. Alastor follows, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.

Seeing the bedroom only serves to solidify your impression that the two of them live here together. There is definitely Alastor’s side of the bed, with red deer themed slippers poking out from underneath, and Vox’s side of the bed, with a digital alarm clock and a special pillow with a square cutout for his head. Two powerful demons, together in secret. It’s enough to make your head spin as Alastor sets you down, gently, on the his side of the bed.

“Alright, let’s fuckin’ do this.” Vox clambers onto the bed, shucking off his shirt, a pause before he reaches you, his hand on your knee. “You too, Al.”

“Must I?” Alastor gives a sideways sort of smile.

“You don’t say that in front of a girl!” barks Vox, and you get the impression he would be pulling his own hair, if he had any. “You’re gonna hurt her feelings or some shit. And yeah, Al, you gotta join in. Otherwise it’s just me fuckin’ a girl on the bed in front of you, and that’s not really a fuckin’ threesome now, is it?”

Alastor smiles thoughtfully. “You did say we would see where we go. I could read a book.”

“Fuck my life,” Vox mutters, flopping back, his boxy head hitting the duvet heavily.

You tug on Alastor’s sleeve again, catching his attention. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m aware,” says Alastor, expression guarded, smile thin. He pauses. “Are your feelings really hurt?”

Your smile is wry. You’d be lying if you said his reticence didn’t hurt, at least a little. “My ego, maybe?”

“Ah.” Alastor looks down at you, and you are caught for a second by just how red his eyes are, like rubies, or pools of fresh blood. His fingers whisper across your cheek, pushing away a strand of hair. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

Tossing his staff onto Vox’s supine form, Alastor climbs onto the bed. He cups your face in his hands and kisses you for the third time that evening, all pretense of propriety gone as he pushes you onto your back, your head onto his pillows and his tongue snaking its way into your mouth. It takes your breath away; you can feel nothing else, only the dance of your tongues and lips, slick with saliva, Alastor’s hands sliding down to your jaw and your neck with the barest pressure. He traces the lines of your arteries, almost absently, and you moan into his mouth as you feel your body respond to him, your pulse growing insistent between your legs. You spread your knees without even thinking about it, your cunt level with his navel as you lie shameless and gasping and red-faced beneath him.

“Now we’re talkin’” Vox grins sidelong at the two of you, propping himself up on his elbows. “You are such a fuckin’ tease, Al.”

“Mm…” Alastor looks down at you, his lips parted and shiny with spit. “I do hope that’s a compliment.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, and Alastor presses a finger lazily to your lips, his eyes narrowing fractionally as if to say no thanks needed.

Vox, meanwhile, is removing your panties. He’s not shy of the Radio Demon’s body either, his hand on Alastor’s flank as he makes the space he needs to get them off. In short order you are naked, your clothing peeled away and the sheets warm against your back, though with the gazes of the two men on you, the room feels far from cold. Vox is down to y-fronts, which his cock strains against valiantly, while Alastor keeps his trousers and shirt, his tie and waistcoat discarded beside the bed.

Vox kisses your breasts, not even trying for your face, Alastor sitting back to give him better access. Vox’s lips are strange, part of the curvature of his front glass and yet not, warm and staticky against your skin, supple as his lips curve around your nipple and suck. His tongue is stranger yet, its sensation alien as the buzzing of fluorescent lights as he traces a circle around your areola and brings your nipple to a shivering point. Vox repeats the action with your other breast, Alastor stroking the vents on the back of his boxy head, his expression unguarded and fond.

“Al-” Vox makes a frustrated noise, his breath hot on your breast. “Pay attention to the girl.”

Alastor smirks, his expression almost flirtatious. “I was,” he says, his eyes meeting yours briefly, “But you and your big head got in the way.”

“Oh for crying out loud, Al.” Vox pinches the top of his frame with two fingers, his other hand on your breast. “There’s plenty to be done here-” Vox’s hand moves down your body, over the softness of your stomach and to your sex, a reassuring squeeze on your hip.

Alastor looks at you, your pink cunt spread open for him, and his brow knits slightly. He’s still touching your leg, hand stroking your shin where it rests against his waist. He’s nervous, you realize. Afraid of fucking up. Afraid of spoiling things.

“Wait-” Vox’s face is thoughtful as he reaches the same conclusion. “You’ve never eaten a girl out, have you?”

“I’ll have you know,” says Alastor, his spine straightening a little. “That I ate two ladies just last week.”

“No, fuck- I mean… eat pussy, Al.”

Alastor raises an eyebrow. “Certainly not!” he pipes. “The taste is revolting, the fur gets stuck in my teeth, and they have too many small bones.”

Vox gives a growl, and you find yourself holding back a laugh. Alastor catches your eye again, his eyes narrowing, red and beautiful as he bends to kiss your knee, a brush of his thin lips. “As my friend here has surmised, I am new to the neighborhood,” he says, his smile a little embarrassed as his gaze travels your inner thigh. “If you would be amenable to showing me around?”

You had expected the Radio Demon to be dominant in the bedroom, to take charge and fill the room with slapping, squelching sounds, but instead he is quiet, his gaze intent as you nervously spread yourself for him. You don’t know what directions he might want, so you hesitate, shrinking back as his eyes seem to drink you in.

“May I?” he asks, and when you nod, he drags a finger through the wetness that seeps viscous from your cunt; a slow, deliberate touch that seems to set every nerve ending in its path aflame. He pulls the finger away, his expression fascinated as a clear string of slick stretches between his finger and your cunt. “How interesting!” he exclaims, before popping the finger in his mouth, eyes closing as he savors your taste.

Vox rests Alastor’s microphone across his knees, impatient. “Al, you’re meant to put your face down there.”

“I’m building anticipation,” says Alastor, his lips a thin smile. “And if you had an ounce of natural showmanship, you would understand that.”

Vox shakes his head, his hands and mouth going back to your breasts, your shoulders and your neck. Vox’s head is too large to comfortably fit in the crook of your neck, but his tongue more than makes up for that, slithering bright across the sensitive flesh of your throat as his claws gently knead your breasts. The biggest side effect of this is that Vox’s large head blocks your view, and you cannot see what Alastor is doing.

There is a cannibal overlord between your legs is the first thought that registers as Alastor’s lips move glacial up your inner thigh. He kisses, he sucks, and he tastes, his fingertips ghosting feather light over your hips and stomach, tracing lines from your navel to your mons.

Vox finally deigns to kiss your mouth as Alastor reaches your cunt. Alastor parts your labia, his long tongue stroking between your folds as Vox’s tongue slips into your mouth, the doubled sensation delicious in its intensity. Alastor’s movements are hesitant, almost conservative, but your cunt is sopping wet enough that even the stripes he licks up your inner labia have you moaning into Vox’s mouth, your hips bucking needy into Alastor’s face.

Alastor’s fingers squeeze into the flesh of your ass, holding you firm as he tends to you, his face pressed firmly into your cunt, lips dragging across slick pink flesh as his tongue probes, a breath of pause between each attempt, his hands weighing how much each teasing lick makes you strain against his grip. His nose brushes your clit, which makes your entire body twitch, and he repeats the action more deliberately a second time.

It’s not long before he has found the most sensitive parts of your anatomy, along with the pattern of touch that best makes you arch your back and cry out. Alastor’s tongue moves back and forth, sweeping hot and wet and divine over you as you spread your knees as wide as they will go, your stomach tightening as you arch your back.

“Holy fuck.” Vox breaks your kiss to look impressed, one clawed hand kneading your chest. “Al, you’re gonna make her cum.”

Alastor doesn’t answer, a primal growl into your cunt, and you cannot answer, the only noise in your throat a mewl of helpless pleasure as Alastor, a man who has spent decades in Hell inflicting pain on souls attacks your nerve endings with a furious precision. You’re going to cum, and you don’t have a choice about it, not with his grip steely on your hips. You want to beg, but your lips can’t even form words as Alastor’s tongue robs you of sense, of language, of decorum, each movement of his mouth sending you hurtling towards the edge. Vox’s hands on you are marginalia to the treatise on pleasure that Alastor’s mouth writes.

It occurs to you, as your orgasm hits, crashing over you and shattering you into pieces, that Alastor might have ruined sex with other men for you. Alastor carries on, tongue pressing into too sensitive flesh through your aftershocks, even as you whine and try to twist away, until Vox touches his shoulder and stops him.

“She’s done, Al,” says Vox, his claws gentle in your hair, and you whimper against the warmth of his chest as Alastor releases you. “Hey, babydoll,” murmurs Vox, the proximity of his screen making the hair on the top of your head stand on end. “You good?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow, language returning to you in bits and pieces, and look at Alastor, who kneels between your legs still, his face glistening with your juices. His eyes are uncertain, and you reach out to him, catching his thin wrists and pulling him to you.

“You’re good at that,” you say, looking up at Alastor as you lie sandwiched between the two of them, Vox’s strong arms around your waist, Vox’s cock pressing into your lower back.

Alastor kisses you, tasting of you, and pulls back, looking pleased with himself. “It’s a lot like torture,” he says, eyes half lidded. “All I need to do is listen to your screams.”

“God fuckin’ damn it, Al,” grouses Vox. “It’s always the horror show stuff with you.”

“God forbid a man have hobbies,” Alastor’s head tilts, but there’s no venom to his reprise. “And for your information,” he adds, a glance at you. “It’s not always torture. I also enjoy dancing.”

You laugh into your hands, the afterglow of your orgasm filling you with a pleasant kind of warmth, and Alastor steals another kiss, grinning all the while.

“What now?”

“Now?” Vox grins, dangerous. “Now it’s your turn, Al.”

Alastor’s smile becomes fixed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Vox’s smile grows wider, and he disentangles himself from you, a crackling kiss to the side of your head. “C’mere.”

Alastor gives an undignified squeak as Vox leaps and tackles him into the bedsheets, dexterous claws on the buttons of his shirt and his fly.

“Impudent! I can undress mysel- mm!” Alastor is silenced as Vox catches his chin and kisses him, open mouthed, long blue tongue lapping your juices from Alastor’s chin, and you watch as Alastor melts for the Television Demon, his shoulders going slack, his shadow splaying itself across the pillows. Alastor’s shirt comes off without complaint, and you crawl over to touch him, your hands on his narrow chest, his shoulders, his arms, as Vox undresses him the rest of the way. Alastor’s heart is beating fast; you can feel it through your hand on his sternum, like a butterfly’s wings beating futile against a glass windowpane, but it slows as Vox kisses his back, and Alastor places a clawed hand over yours. “I suppose you both mean to fuck me,” he says, a little sulkily.

“You tryna say you don’t want that, Al?” Vox’s teeth glow as he grins. “You don’t want me to fuck you as the lovely girl here sucks you off?”

Alastor’s smile purses, but he can’t bring himself to say no, not with you staring up at him prettily and Vox growling sweet nothings into his neck.

His cock stands at attention, the tip red and angry, and you take him in your palms before you get on all fours and take him in your mouth, feeling the quiver that runs through his stomach as your mouth envelops him.

“F-fuck,” Alastor hisses, filter failing, his hand in your hair as Vox’s talons circle his narrow waist. He’s sensitive- you can tell that much from your first few sucks, his precum salty and organic tasting, each movement of your tongue drawing soft noises from his throat. Part of that might be Vox working him open, your position in the bed lowering fractionally as Vox pushes Alastor’s knees apart.

“See, you want it, don’t you Al? Gettin’ completely fucked.” You feel Alastor’s talons tighten in your hair as Vox pushes into him, Alastor’s cock twitching against the back of your mouth, and you breathe through your nose, enjoying the feeling of Alastor coming undone.

“Vox!” Alastor’s voice is tight, high in his register, and Vox slows, stroking him and easing him through sensation, the two demons’ hips moving in tandem as Alastor ruts into your mouth, a strangled noise in his throat.

“Say you like it, say we fuck you good,” Vox growls soft, but the only things coming from Alastor’s mouth are obscenities, his senses overwhelmed by the two of you working together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Alastor’s chest heaves, his eyes screwed shut, his lip bleeding where he has bitten it, his cock hitting the back of your throat with every roll of his hips, a lewd little whimper escaping his lips with the apex of each of Vox’s thrusts.

“There you are,” Vox breathes, seeming to sense Alastor’s imminent climax before Alastor himself. You feel Alastor’s cock swell in your mouth, his grip tightening. “We got you, Al. Let go.”

“Don’t -ngh- tell me what to do,” says Alastor, emptying his load into your mouth, hot and salty. He gasps, and you swallow it down. “Shit.”

“Oh, you’re so good, Al. So fuckin’ good.” Vox’s voice is a groan as he presses his face crackling into Alastor’s hair and starts to fuck him in earnest.

You move your face from Alastor’s cock, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to lay back on the pillows with Alastor’s microphone and watch the show, but instead Alastor grabs your wrists and pins you under him as Vox pushes him to all fours, and Alastor kisses you, unreserved and passionate. He tastes of you, and you of him, small whimpers still escaping him as Vox fucks him. Your fingers are in his hair, over his ears, over his antlers, his thin back, and he holds you to his chest, lips locked with yours as Vox finishes inside him, the three of you shivering with it, the room still in the aftermath.

“Ngh.” Vox’s screen shows a test card for a good twenty seconds. “Fuck.”

“Yes,” Alastor agrees, a slow exhalation as Vox withdraws from him.

The three of you are side by side in the bed for a moment as Vox drops to the sheets. Vox’s breathing is labored, Alastor’s more controlled, and neither of them speak.

Alastor rolls onto his back, turning to Vox. “You’d best wash up.”

“What?” Vox narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“It’s rude,” says Alastor, with a coy smile. “To keep a lady waiting.”

“Oh.” Vox stares at you as if he’s just remembered you are there, face coloring. “Oh. Shit. Yeah. Keep her warm for me, Al.”

Alastor takes his staff back in one hand, and pulls you to him with the other, your head nestled nicely against his bony shoulder as you watch Vox disappear into the bathroom, water running. It feels as if you could both drift off like this, comfortable and satiated, and you almost do, until Alastor’s fingers start tracing a slow line from your knee to your thigh, and your eyes flicker open.

“He’ll be pissy if he finds us asleep,” says Alastor, his tone amused. “So, unless you want to see him blow a fuse-”

You swallow as you feel him part your labia with his fingers, careful with his claws as he drags the pads of his fingers through the slickness that seeps from you. “Is this really the best way to stay awake?”

“Probably not,” admits Alastor. “But it is one of the more entertaining ones, don’t you agree?”

“Very,” you agree, your breath hitching as Alastor’s finger graces the base of your clitoris, drawing a small circle, pressing your flesh against the bone of your pelvis with his fingertips. “I am very entertained right now.”

“A performer is nothing without his audience,” quips Alastor, but his smile seems genuine. You’re wondering how he’s going to manage his claws if he fingers you when he extrudes a long black tentacle from his back. “Open wide now.”

Your legs spread, Alastor strokes your knee, the back of your calf, the arch of your foot, and his tentacle slithers, wrapping fully around the meat of your thigh before its tip teases at your cunt.

He doesn’t penetrate you right away, which is a good thing; ready and willing as you are the tentacle is girthy. Instead, Alastor teases with it, his smile relaxed and his ears pricked as he listens to your breathing, your sighs. Your words, when you are able to use them.

“There, there, just there,” you tell him, and your reward is a squeeze of his hand on your ankle, his breathy voice in your ear, telling you what a good audience you are tonight, how supportive, how participatory. The tentacle moves in tandem with his hand, the tip twirling at your entrance as he strokes the folds of your cunt, dragging slick from your hole up over your clit, coaxing it from its hood, his touch so light that it makes you hold your breath, and then firm, a pressure that has you gasping, moaning so loudly that he holds his microphone to your lips and asks you to repeat yourself.

When Alastor’s tentacle pushes its way into you, you are ready, more than ready, speechless at the girth of it and giving heady little gasps as you feel yourself stretch around him.

“You’d better not reach the climax before Vox gets back,” says Alastor, a soft murmur in your ear as you whimper, senseless against his chest. “He really will blow a fuse if you do that.” He’s enjoying himself, you realize. He’s playing with you, his smile relaxed as he manipulates your body to his liking.

But you are already mounting the summit, your body helpless in Alastor’s clutches. He barely needs to use his fingers, not with the tentacle pressed into you, an obscene squelching noise as he curves it in and out of you; Alastor simply holds his fingertips over the tip of your clit and lets the motion of the tentacle do the rest of the work, each brush of contact with the exposed nub of flesh like a lick of flame across your nerves that makes you cry out, over and over, until your throat is hoarse with it.

You cum as Vox returns, a spasm through your body, your cunt fluttering around Alastor’s tentacle, and the Radio Demon grins at Vox.

If Vox’s eyes weren’t just images displayed on his screen, they would be bulging right now. He stares. Alastor grins at him.

“Al.” Vox’s lips are an annoyed line as he watches Alastor pull his tentacle out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing. “How the fuck am I meant to compete with that monster?” His cock is well proportioned to his frame, but it’s nothing compared to the tentacle. You look between the two demons, hoping they’re not going to fight.

Alastor’s grin widens. “You’re a resourceful man, Vox. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Vox shakes his head as he climbs back on the bed. “You’ve always gotta fuckin’ upstage me, huh.”

“That’s why you like me so much,” says Alastor. “Isn’t it?”

“Ah, fuck you, Al,” says Vox, all bark, and Alastor beams at him.

Alastor pulls you on top of him, your back to him, and hooks his chin over the top of your head, so that you both face Vox when he climbs atop you, on his hands and knees.

Vox kisses you, softly, hand cupping your face, and you feel Alastor’s sound of approval through your back, the low hum of an electrical appliance.

“You ready, babydoll?” Vox asks, and when you nod, he pushes into you.

You feel him. Your orgasm has made you tender, Alastor’s tentacle has made you tender and you feel every inch of Vox as if your cunt were just made yesterday, shipped direct from the factory.

“Oh fuck, that’s nice babydoll.” Fragments of test card float on Vox’s screen as he pauses, in you to the hilt. “You feel fuckin’ nice. Fuckin’ soft, god.”

You feel Alastor huff into your hair with amusement, and he reaches for your legs, pulling up your thighs and then your knees, pulling your legs flush with your chest; a mating press for you and Vox.

Vox grins, his hands joining Alastor’s on the underside of your knees, and he fucks you in earnest.

That his cock is smaller than Alastor’s tentacle doesn’t matter one bit, not when you’re pressed like this, his cock able to reach the deepest parts of your tender cunt with ease. He fucks you, and you cry out; not the mewling whimper you had before but a full throated cry that escapes you at the apex of each thrust, your throat already sore, your voice cracking, but crying out regardless.

Vox’s monologue is all sweet, sweary nothings- you’re doing so good babydoll, so wet for me, so soft, so good, so fuckin’ good and Alastor’s commentary is drier- do you think you’ll be able to walk again after this? Now that’s a scream worthy of my studio, all the while you are crying out, tears in your eyes, a pressure in your abdomen, Vox hammering into the most sensitive parts of you, over and over and oh.

Your cunt flutters again, Vox growling a good girl before his seed floods into you in hot, pulsing waves.

You lie there, boneless, seeing stars, the three of you breathing hard. Vox drops his face onto your chest, and you stroke his hot vents, as you’ve seen Alastor do. Alastor lets go of your legs, a kiss to the top of your head.

“Fuck,” murmurs Vox.

“Seconded,” you croak.

“Mm,” buzzes Alastor. “Quite.”

Vox rolls off you, and you roll off Alastor, the three of you side by side on the bed, points of contact between you; your leg crossing Alastor’s thigh, Vox’s arm across your stomach.

It is a long, hazy moment before Vox sits up, digging through the dresser on the Vox side of the bed, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

“In the apartment?” Alastor complains, sleepy.

“It’s a fuckin’ special occasion, Al,” says Vox, leaning over you to place a cigarette between Alastor’s smiling lips. Alastor takes it, and Vox lights it, before offering the box to you. “You smoke?” he asks.

If you didn’t already, it was a hell of a time to start.

[dicenete]

I repainted his face more times than probably necessary but something always caught my eye and still does, but it is done. is done. It's fine. xD IkePri Tagteam:

@scummy-writes @goustmilk @solacedeer @m-mmiy @mxrmaid-poet

@pawnkyyy @ludivineikewolf @violettduchess @floydsteeth @wistfulwanderingone

@sh0jun @lorei-writes

A little bit of rambling of him below the break, spoilers (Keith's route, and little bit of Nokto's route) and such :0 so you have been warned.

TL;DR: I enjoyed the route despite its questionable elements. MC is too forgiving at times, but other than that, romanctic route was cute. Licht, the third wheel, was funny but sad.

Okay first about Keith's visual design: I really love how his design is the most asymmetrical from the suitors. Like the jacket and the vest he has. The jacket is very interestingly layered, almost like you aren't sure which part is the main thing and what is the accent. The green or the gold? The host or the alter? : D Same with his vest. His duality is battling in his clothing too hahaha

Keith's route was interesting. I had heard lots of differing opinions about it and I had my own reservations.

One mainly about the portrayal of DID and how the route does it. First things first: I'm not an expert at all. I won't even humor the idea that I had any say in anything regarding it. But overall, it could have been worse? Of course it might be very extreme in the way Alter Keith is hostile towards Host Keith. And of course you shouldn't take this as the only way the alter systems work. But as I said: I'm not an expert.

I had heard that the dramatic route follows Alter Keith and romantic route host Keith. I picked the romantic one. I had my personal reasons for that tho. But aside from that, it was nice to be with Keith that who struggled with self-worth. It was nice to see him grow as a character and find that strength to stand up for himself. (The fact that the host Keith seems to think that he is inferior to Alter Keith and that people would prefer the alter over him. The amount of stress that will bring. )

Keith's uncle was your very generic villain/antagonist without any real depth. He was a spoiled noble and so on. But since this was more about Keith inner journey I thought it was fine that it was like that.

The drugging scene… Well. That's a… a topic. Hmm… Host Keith himself felt very guilty about it and was full of remorse. Not that it was his choice to do it. Alter Keith well… He might justify it because he was gathering information about a rumor that might endanger his home country and people if it were true. I kinda can see where he is coming from, but also...IT CERTAINLY WAS DESTROYING OF TRUST. Like that time when Nokto "accidently" gets MC drunk. but hey ho. Since there is limited time frame for the chapters, I do understand they can't really jam all the things there, but I wanted Belle be more angry with him with Alter Keith for longer.

Maybe that's what bugs me sometimes. That Belle/Emma/MC is sometimes too forgiving and too much of a doormat. It works in routes like Yves and Licht (from the routes I have played, Leon seems like the most respectable gentleman too), because they are not being insulting towards her. I would even think that she works with Clavis, tho I would love to see him with someone who shares his chaotic gremlin energy. But with characters like Chev, Silvio or Alter Keith the their "power" doesn't feel balanced. MC seems to be completely on their mercy even if they stand up to them in some way. (Gilbert is another can of nasty things.)(With Chev's route, well, that is also a rambling for another time. But I haven't finished his route yet. so I will keep my ramblings to myself for now.)

Is Keith's route more about acceptance then? Accepting the good and the bad of a person? Possibly. I would think that is a good way to put it. Both Keiths have good and bad sides. And it seems that they are working on them.

[takes1]

HI I LOVE UR WRITING

can i req a fic for iwa :000 maybe reader comes w him to the gym and he can clearly see her blushing at him workin out n his body 😔 the rest can be up to u :))

iwaizumi hajime x reader mutual gym thirst

hi!!! thank you so much!! really liked this idea :) i used his timeskip interest to help with some structure here, but i hope i got enough right!

warnings. sfw-ish, thirsty info. iwa's hot bod / charged staring / mutual crushing / questionable touching / will-they-won't-they kinda vibe / oikawa being a nuisance / oikawa moving things along / athletic!reader / injured!reader / 1.4k words haikyuu collection. more here! more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

You never once thought of what your school gym's layout could really do for you before this afternoon.

There was absolutely no reason to, until a certain tall, dark, and handsome brute took a liking to the power rack in front of the treadmill you were tied to for the next half-hour.

Part of your training plan required 40 monotonous minutes of incline walking- so a longer variation of the tried-and-true 12-3-30 became your new ritual after your team's practice. Shin splits weren't going to go away on their own, after all.

So, you and your defective shins were already married to this spot. When he walked his beefy ass to a spot so ideal for watching, you couldn't help but feel a little creepy.

This light dusting of shame didn't stop your eyes from wandering, though. You were too tired from a long practice and longer physical therapy to truly keep your gaze glued to the numbers on the screen.

That near-pornographic muscle-tee he wore at least twice a week was in rotation today.

It was soaked through; light blue now dark, from the cardio that he just finished outside with his partner and current spotter.

"Come ooon, you can get that up," Oikawa smirked, knowing damn well he needed to help Iwa get the bar racked.

He laughed at his friend's shaky struggle, himself even surprised when the bar slammed against the metal holds.

"Fucking prick," Iwa grumbled with very little air in his lungs.

The dark tone on his tongue raised your brow. You looked at the ceiling with a big exhale to get the thoughts out of your head.

This crush was much more manageable when it was confined to passing glances in the hall.

He was panting as he sat up. You looked back down just in time to watch him remove his useless, sticky shirt.

Sure, the hip-deep slits down the sides didn't leave so much to the imagination, but this was still so much better.

You bit the inside of your cheek and squeezed your eyes shut to keep from making any ridiculous faces, but the image of his bouncy chest and twitchy, heavy biceps were burned into your eyelids.

They had to switch out the weight between turns, so when he took the side of the rack closest to you, you were able to stare at his working back muscles without any repercussions. It was akin to crashing ocean waves between his shoulder blades. He set a plate gently onto the floor.

His skin glistened in the moody lighting. The veins in forearms were plump with effort.

"You feeling okay, (Y/n)?"

Oikawa gave an all-too-knowing grin at you when you locked eyes with him.

Heat crept up your neck- as if you needed to feel any hotter- and horribly embarrassed, you couldn't craft a response to his smartass comment.

Thankfully, Iwa glanced back at your downcast expression and scoffed at his friend.

"They're out on injury right now. Chill out, dude," Iwa came to your rescue, thankfully mistaken to the nature of his remark.

Oikawa looked frustrated that his jab didn't land the way he wanted it to.

You stuck your tongue out at him when Iwa wasn't looking and got one right back.

Now that you were under suspicion, you had more motivation to not stare at him anymore. It just wasn't worth getting found out.

This aversion to looking in their direction allowed the more lively of the two to whisper something with a smirk without you catching him.

Only five minutes remained on your screen when Oikawa climbed up onto the treadmill next to yours, despite the four empty ones further away.

An eye roll. You swiped the sweat off of your face and flicked it at him.

He didn't even get the chance to say anything snarky before Iwa noticed his absence.

"Stop being an ass," He grumbled.

"I didn't say anything!"

He wiped down of the rest of the bench, grabbed his shirt, and stood between the two treadmills. He motioned between you.

"You're being obnoxious," Iwa asserted, "Go somewhere else."

He sure as Hell wasn't happy about it, but he gave in to his friend's wishes. This would be interesting enough without him needing to interfere-- he kept a watchful, cheeky eye on both of you from across the gym.

"So, they got you doin' this," He put his hand on the side of the machine, brow furrowed in concern, "God, isn't that a bit much?"

There was no way you could speak to him without ending this. You pressed stop on your workout, thankful to be done with a good enough excuse.

You set your hands on your hips and tried to get your breathing back to normal. Your shins were burning.

"I hope not," You shrugged and wiped the sweat off of your face with the collar of your shirt.

He rested the side of his face on his slick forearm and looked you up and down.

You tensed at the motion and looked to the side.

"Can I take a look?"

A strong twitch of embarrassed confusion on your face forced him to clarify immediately:

"Your legs- I mean," He laughed.

You knew he would assist the head PT every other day for injured student athletes that came through the training room. It was a way for him to get some experience in before he went for a degree.

It just so happened that it never aligned with your schedule, so even though he knew you had become a regular, he never got to assess you.

You tried not to limp on the way across the gym.

"Jesus..." He muttered as you sat your leg onto his lap, "Yeah, that's... fucked."

The little stretching corner was otherwise unoccupied, but you couldn't help but feel like your proximity was too much. Your head was craned around to make sure there were no teachers or staff around to yell at you- but flipped back around with small yelp at his hand.

You laughed and flinched away at his cold fingers, "Thanks."

He didn't react to you.

"I mean, like..."

Iwa was completely taken by how swollen your lower legs had gotten, he wasn't even finishing his sentences. His concentration was super cute. A little concerning, but cute.

He walked you through some new stretches that the head PT didn't care to show you; the more he informed you about the nature of your pain, the less you were trusting the old fellow that you had been seeing.

He supported you as you attempted a tough stretch and quickly reassured you to not push it. You let up as he suggested, hands trembling against his forearms.

"Juuust like that, yeah," He said gently next to your head.

Your face lit up and stopped, too embarrassed to keep this going. Maybe you did prefer that old, crusty, trained professional over him.

Concerned, he ducked to look at your expression, but you quickly evaded.

"Did that hurt too bad?" He asked.

You deliberated on lying but decided against it.

When you glanced back up at him and shook your head, he had a smile on his face that you couldn't quite rationalize.

The focus on 'strengthening' your shins seemed to Iwa like it was just making the issue worse. He recommended resting as much as possible.

His touch and his attentive gaze helped you manage the discomfort you felt going through the motions. He was always waiting for your reaction, gauging how he needed to shift you based on your facial expressions.

"Let me get you some ice," He snapped a couple times, deep in thought, "I wanna try that new wrap, too--,"

He jogged off into the clinic's room and flipped on the light.

In the mirror-wall you caught a glimpse of Oikawa at the free weights. He started blowing kisses in your direction and only stopped when Iwa hurried back out.

"Y'know, I can always make some extra time to check on this after practice."

Your expression softened.

Iwa knelt down next to you. He scanned the damage carefully before sitting, and took one leg into his lap again.

"I couldn't let you do that," You sighed and seethed at the contact.

There wasn't much more room to be gentle, so you just had to endure.

He layered everything slowly, firmly but not too tight, and would take the time to fix the stretchy tape if it got twisted. The actual therapist never spent this much time on you like this.

"Well," Iwa prodded at his finished work, "You can just... give me your number, and we can work something out?"

It may have been the ice, but the chills that ran up your spine were difficult to hide.

"Sure," You smiled.

It felt like you were agreeing to something a little less medical in nature.

He helped you to a stand and supported you for a few seconds too long.

"Sweet," Brushed off his lips in a consumed sigh.

masterlist.

requests/submissions: open

[futurecorps3]

Hiii, could you write a nikokai fic where reader is like in love with kaz but he doesn't really pay attention to her. And then the crows meet sturmhond because of a heist and he takes interest in the reader form the first moment he sae her and makes her fall in love with him. And then whatever you want lol. Maybe kaz being jealous idk.

Sorry for any grammatical mistake, english it's not my first language.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞

Masterlist<3

Summary: After years of being in love with the one and only Kaz Brekker, breaking her own heart, Y/N meets someone else... Pairing: Sturmhond x fem!inferni!reader, Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Warnings: The usual crow violence, DRINKING, jealous Kaz, mean Kaz, "unrequited" love for a little while, Matthias is alive and well like in the books duh but this is ofc before Nikolai becomes king, idc I just want my Fjerdan hunk happy in Ketterdam, curse words, kind of a messy timeline. HURT AND NO COMFORT. Lmk if I missed any.

Word Count: 2.9K!! Requested: Yes

A/N: IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! :( I've been looking forward to getting to this specific request because oh my god, also, I changed it up a little; making Kaz actually be in love with reader but never really trying anything. Tysm for requesting love! Hope you enjoy :)

˚ · • . °

Exhaustion. That's what she felt, and to be honest, it was even more frustrating when Y/N knew she was doing it to herself. Those persistent yet futile attempts at reading Kaz's silence or gaze as something else; a love message, a confession of his sins, any sign of vulnerability reserved for her. However, these attempts, though fervent, ultimately proved fruitless.

How could she confirm what she thought she saw if, after, say, he appeared distressed at her being in danger or fumed when some dick was being extra disgusting at the bar that night; he went back to being his usual cold self?

When she finally obtained concrete evidence that disproved her misconceptions ("Jesper, she prefers black coffee" or "Y/N, could you join me in my office for a moment?" simply to spend time together in quietude), he strategically distanced himself throughout the week, transforming those precious moments of tranquility and companionship into ordinary occurrences, leading her to, somehow, misunderstand them.

Another shot of vodka and the pain her thoughts evoked was replaced by the burning, bitter sensation in her tongue and throat. "A hangover won't make Kaz let you stay behind tomorrow, you know that?" Matthias smiled next to her.

Since he joined the crows, the Fjerdan had taken a special liking to his girlfriend's best friend; she was funny, kind hearted and could keep up his pace in drinking games. Nina couldn't be happier to see her loves get along so well, saying it's her dream come true. "Oh don't even start, Matthias" Y/N answered, feigning annoyance as she poured more of the burning liquid into her glass and pulled out another for her friend.

They silently toasted to nothing in particular and chatted about their books as they usually did. Matthias' romance novel had an interesting love triangle Y/N was eager to read when he was finished. From how he talked about it, the girl knew it was just her type of story. They were in the middle of a playful argument about a plot-hole Y/N thought she found when Kaz approached them.

His usual demeanor seemed a bit... shaken. If you asked the blonde, he'd say he only looked more agitated, but Y/N/N knew better; his hair was covering his forehead slightly, but he wasn't brushing it back. The limp was prominent still, yet he wasn't using his cane. Kaz was in a rush to get to her, maybe?.

"One of your fellow countrymen is starting a turmoil outside, doesn't speak Kerch. Will you please, for the tree's sake, go and talk some sense into his thick blonde skull?" Saints, why did she like him so much? Even like that, Y/N thought he looked rather divine. Matthias stood up from his seat and directed himself to the entrance.

"Since when do you care for what happens outside that door?" She asked with a grin, genuinely curious. "I wouldn't if he wasn't scaring off the pigeons. No wealthy tourist will endure the trouble that some drunk Fjerdan means just to get inside a place full of people that'll take his money" the boy explained, looking down at her.

Kaz's complexion, kissed by the soft glow of the candles, is pale yet flawless, as if untouched by the harshness of the world he inhabits. His sharp, well-defined features give him an air of enigmatic sophistication, further heightened by the way the light dances upon his cheekbones, emphasizing their elegant structure.

Y/N realizes she's staring. She looks away.

The bastard smirks. "Finding something intriguing, are we?" And oh, she wanted to stab him to see if that would wipe the stupid grin he carried. "Oh, please, Kaz. You give yourself too much credit. I was merely lost in thought, contemplating the mysteries of the world. Your face happened to be in the line of sight, that's all."

Quick, sarcastic answer, as if the seconds between her silence confirmed even further what he was saying. He scoffed, drinking the remains of alcohol on Matthias' glass and fixed his hair in the process. "Stop drinking, a hangover won't spare you from our meeting tomorrow".

˚ · • . °

She should've listened. The crashing waves outside only intensified the discomfort, while the salty breeze seemed to carry a tinge of regret. Even the beauty of the sea she was now too used to felt distant and inaccessible, overshadowed by the haze of her post-indulgence remorse.

Nina, taunting Matthias with a mature Ravkan song and Jesper shooting bottles in the warehouse, created an uneasy atmosphere for hungover Y/N. This unsettling environment made it difficult for her to focus on evaluating any potential deals they were to discuss with the privateer Kaz said they were meeting that day. Also, they had been waiting for over an fifteen minutes now! She was surprised Kaz was waiting still.

He checked his pocket watch subtly, sighing at the tardiness of their Ravkan guests. Then, he looked over at Y/N. Even with those deep baggy eyes and with her head on her hands in exasperation, she managed to awaken that odd feeling in his chest. He hated it. No, he despised it.

If he ever accepted that he was down hard for the girl, he could also get over the fact that she, too, liked him. Well, he wasn't dumb! There was no denying that Y/N's actions warmed his heart. He just knew loving was a dangerous thing to do, a weakness he couldn't afford after spending years building a reputation in Ketterdam.

Then came a loud bang on the heave wooden doors of the warehouse. "Fucking finally" Y/N sighed, going to open the door herself before anyone would, wanting nothing but to end this as soon as possible so she could go back home to sleep. She grabbed the handle and pulled, the bright light outside blinding her momentarily before seeing the privateer and his crew.

"Hello gorgeous! Here to see Mr. Brekker. I'm guessing you're one of his associates?" A sharp, slightly deep voice greeted. The girl shielded her eyes from the light and found captain smily offering his hand out. In Ketterdam, rumours ran as quick as blood on pavement; Sturmhond knew that. He needed no introduction. Every person involved in not so legal activities who didn't live under a rock had heard at least once about the dog of the sea.

She took it, shaking gently. "Y/N Y/L/N, but if you prefer nicknames, call me Haepha". Then she stepped aside, pretending not to notice the smirk on Sturmhond's face so his partners could come in. The rumors hadn't done justice to his captivating presence.

The charismatic privateer stood tall, his dark hair falling in unruly waves that added to his allure. His piercing blue eyes seemed to hold a world of secrets, and a mischievous smile played across his lips. Dressed in opulent garments that exuded confidence and flair, Sturmhond commanded attention with every step as his crew and he approached the rest of the crows.

"I'll stick to your name for now doll, too pretty not to use," And the bastard winked at Y/N, making a Shu girl who was walking behind him with the same confidence giggle. The worst thing about pretty men is they know they're pretty, and knew damn well how to get away with being cocky. She knew his type, so she brushed the wink off and walked towards her friends.

Kaz and Sturmhond shook hands. Everyone who was fast enough grabbed a seat in old boxes or even on the floor. Jesper offered Y/N his seat, knowing that the vodka she drank last night was no merciful rival, and stood behind her alongside his boyfriend. Inej lingered sitting in a window near them as Matthias and Nina remained standing, contrary to all the privateers' team.

Kaz started making introductions, all a mere formality, Y/N knew. "You've met Y/N, our inferni. Behind him are Jesper, sharp-shooter, and Wylan, our demo-man. The blonde wall-resembling man over there is Matthias, and Nina is a heartrender. Inej in the window, our Wraith" he pointed, everyone nodding or waving at the dark-haired man.

"A Wraith alright, didn't notice you were there sweetheart!" He pointed out and then introduced the twins; Tolya and Tamar. As well as Anya and Andrei, who were two members of his ship's company who wanted to come by and see who they were working with. When that was taken care of, plans were strategized by both leaders and positions were given to each member.

Y/N knew Kaz was characterized by having plans from A to Z for very elaborate heists, but even this one seemed out of his reach, almost too ambitious. But if Sturmhond's name lived up to the myth, nothing was quite impossible for him and Kaz's love for money could get him to plot even the tiniest detail.

Their objective this time was to steal some kind of jewel called "the moon's tears". It was a gem said to be worth four million kruge, to be bargained for even more; the crows' biggest heist yet. The vault it was in was widely known for its impenetrable security measures, including seemingly impenetrable barriers, intricate lock mechanisms, and a team of highly skilled guards.

Those two were absolutely insane! Even before one considered the noble who owned the vault and therefore the gem they were trying to steal, knew Kaz from the past. It was an extremely peculiar coincidence that a masquerade ball was taking place some distance away from the location of the vault, which represented the perfect opportunity for the work.

This would allow them to exploit the lack of security and sweep the gem away. Nina would ideally take care of the distraction, to keep the nobleman from returning home too quick, but her heartrending abilities would be helpful to make a quick work to make the few officers guarding the vault doze off.

So it became Y/N's job. A job she was to complete with Sturmhond.

After the meeting ended and Y/N's headache had worsened, a deep voice was heard from behind her. She turned to find the charming privateer flashing a smile at her. "Looking forward to working with you, darling" He commented, offering his hand out and all. She took it and shook half-heartedly, eager to just go home and sleep for the rest of the evening.

"Me too, handsome" Irony laced in her tone. "Doesn't seem like it, you alright? You look like a ghost. Lovely, yes, but still ghostly" The comment made her smile, tightening the grasp on his hand but not shaking anymore "Just hungover s'all" "Told you so!" Jesper proclaimed from their side as everyone directed themselves to the door.

The privateer smiled sweetly. "Got any plans this evening?" "Other than rotting in my room until my body stops hurting? Not really. Why?" Y/N looked down briefly, realizing she still hadn't let go of his hand and then released her grasp "Well, if my days at sea have thought me anything other than how to read the stars..." he started, tapping the necklace with a star charm the girl sported.

A "gift" from Kaz (some jewelry that wasn't redeemed from a heist he let her keep). "...is how to cure a hangover. Mind coming with me to a bar? You can decide which". Going to a bar with a complete stranger who had a reputation of being in trouble most of the time and who she were to work with? Sure thing.

"Promise youll make it go away?" "Promise".

˚ · • . °

And what a plot twist he was. Jesper had jokingly said to the girl that she shouldn't take a privateer's word but he did termiante her hangover with some strange, black-ish liquid she didn't dare to ask the composition of. Then they drank more.

As the drinks arrived, they raised their glasses, the clink of crystal breaking the spell of their silent connection. Sturmhond smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "To new adventures and unexpected encounters," he proposed, his voice smooth and velvety.

Y/N couldn't help but return the smile, feeling the warmth of excitement spread through her veins. "To embracing the unknown," she replied, raising her glass in agreement. They took a sip, the flavors dancing on their tongues. A comfortable silence settled between them, allowing the sounds of the bar to envelop them. After a moment, Sturmhond leaned in, his voice low and captivating.

"So, Y/N, what brings you to this lawless corner of the world?". He asked, genuine curiosity lacing his words. Y/N's eyes sparkled as she recounted her journey, the challenges she faced, and the dreams that fueled her determination. Sturmhond listened intently, his attention unwavering, as if she held the secrets of a hidden treasure.

As she spoke, Y/N couldn't help but notice the genuine interest in Sturmhond's eyes. He asked thoughtful questions and shared stories of his own adventures, effortlessly weaving tales of daring escapades that left Y/N hanging on his every word.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, a seamless exchange of ideas, dreams, and aspirations. Time seemed to melt away as they delved into deeper discussions, finding solace in the connection they were building. Laughter intertwined with their words, a symphony of shared amusement and understanding.

They became lost in each other's company, entranced by the way their thoughts aligned and their hearts danced to the same rhythm. And as the night wore on, their conversation continued, their new found connection growing stronger with every passing moment.

She couldn't help but think of Kaz, when exiting the bar, and on the way back to The Slat. When would he ever, in a million years, make her feel so seen? How could he? He seemed to be nothing but cold and a bad type of confusing to the girl.

Y/N was not blind, either. Sturmhond was known for his endless romantic encounters with women across the sea, and he was interested in her. Now, she could not deny the guy was a charming boy too pretty for this Earth, sharp as a knife and, as she found out that evening, shared a lot of ideals and interests with her.

Could he maybe work as a rebound? Maybe. Would she shamelessly use him as that? Could be. Having his eyes on her that whole meeting was no coincidence, and she liked his attention. Maybe what mends a broken heart was a handsome privateer.

They agreed to meet up the next day, his treat.

˚ · • . °

Back at the Slat, Kaz was fuming. No, not fuming; seething. A bar outing? She just met him! He could not believe his eyes when they were talking hand in hand like they had known each other from a previous lifetime.

In the little time that had passed since (most of) the crows had returned from the meeting, Kaz had already gotten four drunks kicked out, death-stared a group of dregs twice so they'd shorten their break time to get them to work and downed four vodka shots.

Why was he this mad? She wasn't even his and as far as she knew; he had no intentions of being hers either. The boy couldn't be mad at her, but he was, and Kaz knew very well he was being a big selfish shit. He could not blame Y/N either; the bastard she had been crushing on gives no signs of interest but a privateer handsome as the devil shows up with his attention completely focused on her? Of course she'd fall.

He just hated that feeling.

It's presence looms, heavy and suffocating, wrapping its tendrils around the heart, constricting with an iron grip. It whispers sweet poison into the mind, distorting reality and fueling irrational fears. Like a tempestuous storm, it rages within, lightning crackling with envy, thunder rumbling with resentment. It paints the world in hues of green, tarnishing every joyous moment with a bitter aftertaste.

And then his heart sunk into the depths of his dark soul when he saw them walk in hand in hand. That was the first time Y/N had walked into a room and not looked for him, he noticed. She was laughing at something Sturmhond had said as they walked up the stairs until they reached the door of Y/N's room. He kissed her hand and she kissed his cheek.

The privateer then walked down the stairs, noticing Kaz staring.

"She's one of a kind, that one... Might stay a bit more after the job's done. See you tomorrow, Brekker"

The feeling was now leaving an empty, bottomless void in his soul. He bottomed his shot glass then poured another one.

˚ · • . °

Time kept ticking and the void intensified, but Kaz learnt how to deal with it.

He learnt how to deal with it when he kissed her after the job was done.

He learnt how to deal with it when Y/N took a break from the crows to leave with him for six months.

He learnt how to deal with it when she returned from her trip, beautiful tan skin and a diamond on her finger.

He learnt how to deal with it when he saw her crying herself to sleep because she missed him.

He learnt how to deal with it when she left for good.

He learnt how to deal with it when she was named queen of Ravka.

Kaz just learnt how to live with the shame and regret of not recognizing that the one thing he needed was right in front of him, hoping she'd have a place next to him.

˚ · • . ° .

Hi! Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed:) I'm actually sorry for this one...

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

[shanieveh]

REVERSE 01 ↺: hi, i love you

wriothesley x fem!reader smau

now playing: niki — take a chance with me

That's life basically.... although Wriothesley is quite literally the biggest fish in the sea, known as the the biggest catch, the lengths you go through to get him still brings shock to people's faces. It only gives one the hypothesis that your obsession love you have for this man runs deep.

But if only they knew... oh okay tmi!!!

"Interesting..." you see Charlotte peeking through your phone—this gossip! you snatched her notes:

'Wriothesley Craze! Life from an Obsessed Fan's perspective'

You then began tearing it to pieces much to her whining and crying. With that, classes began, you open your notebooks with pictures full of him and his defined biceps.

His big game will be next week and you will make sure, oh you will ABSOLUTELY make sure, you will scream and cheer the loudest. After all, seeing his dangerous smirk and his relaxed glare, you're already giddy and focus gone while imagining as the teacher calls you much to your uninterested sigh. This killjoy.

Just as you were about to sleep, the most important notification posted. Ding!

And just like that another picture to be printed. Your innocent teenage crush on this man was taking quite the toll on your mental health, but he's just... he's so perfect.

You can't seem to describe it, but there was no part in you that don't approve of your actions. And even if every valentines he rejects you, or every christmas he puts aside your gifts. Just being on his side, just knowing his thoughts it was enough for you.

This life was enough for you. He was enough.

Hours passed and you finish all your homeworks quietly in the school library. Many have this stereotype that the duke has your whole heart, but that was not true at all.

At least, now when you're doing homework or with your friends.

After all everyone has their limit to desires, everything breaks once its pivotal point is shattered.

But as you schedule the big game in your calendar, you knew it won't be having anytime soon as you read 'Pride and Prejudice' and imagine him as Darcy who'll beg for forgiveness for his constant ignoring and rejecting!

Maybe one day he'll have to do this constant chase, and you'll be:

"Your selfish disdain for the feeling of others made me realize that you were the last man i could ever be prevailed upon to marry!"

You clench your fist to the sky as you deliver it like an oscar-winning actress with a posh and a british accent. In an embarassing moment you looked around to see if anyone saw you in the act, but only the winds and crickets answered back. Thank God.

With that thought, giggles emitted as you exit the library to your home, day over. But little did you know the oldest saying in the book, the walls... have ears.

———————————[ 01 —↺— 02 ]———————————

the whole campus knows about your 3 year crush on the student body president and basketball captain wriothesley. you were fine with his constant ignoring and rejections until something happened, until you stopped, and a reverse took place... now he won't leave you alone.

taglist: @vash-yuu @nayukiyukihira @aethion @whodissbitj @astolary @ayayaaayyiire @randomidk-123 @superdark-soul @sleepy-waffle @kittywagun @ceaether @ichorstainedskin @numwoon44 @eutopiastar @reni502 @fictionalfantasy17 @lucienbarkbark @kyon-cherri @huanator @jqnehr @yourlittlemissworld @zworllyx @unknownlololol @sara-midnight @jaguarthecat @we-wo-we-wo @duhsies @interstellar-equilibrium @ariparri @lolmeowing @aruatsu @k-cris @quacking-simp @vlamouren @semi-orangeapple @tamikahoshiko @imnotgoodwithnamessoidk @portgas459ace @r4yyyyy @vxnuslogy @kazuhasmaid @explosive-wuisa @falors @rirk-ke @shotovhs @aixaingela @ruhaxol @yelleloww

[shinjiikar1]

I've been trying to think about what I want to say about these first two episodes of Love in the Big City. I'm watching it slowly, it's a show that makes me want to sit rather than rush ahead, and it also hits a little too close to home to enjoy freely (I've only watched the first two episodes so far and my knowledge of the rest of the story is fairly vague so bear with me).

Go Young experiences two major losses. The parallels between these losses, what could have been vs. what can never be again was what particularly stood out to me.

Mi Ae represents a beautiful time that is forever lost. After she gets married, there's no one he can be fully himself with. He simply doesn't have another relationship on that level, platonic or otherwise, and that's truly such an isolating experience. Who do you call when you're in trouble? Who do you complain to? Who will always be your first port of call?

Often, youthful friendships are particularly intense, you're at a point where the world feels so enormous but you don't quite know what to do with it, or yourself yet. Everything still feels new and exciting. You meet people who understand you in ways you've never been understood and can't imagine it won't last forever.

And then you experience that loss for the first time.

Kim Nam Gyu experiences it too. It's clear early in their relationship that Go Young is overwhelmed and uncomfortable with the intensity of Nam Gyu's feelings (his expressions during the padlock and ring scenes in particular). He feels suffocated and anxious, he's not ready for it. So, rather harshly (at least the first time) he ends things. I've been on both ends, which makes it a lot easier to empathize with both of them. While I feel for Nam Gyu incredibly (especially as I read him as very neurodivergent), that discomfort is not something easily resolved, and it's only made worse by his inability to move on. But how can he when he also has no one else?

In the end, Go Young mentions that he missed out on what could have been a long and lasting love with Nam Gyu but I wonder if that's true. Would he have eventually opened up and reciprocated that intensity? Or would he have continued to wallow in his discomfort and let that resentment pile up even further? It's hard to say, but based on the way he behaves, I think the latter. He just wasn't in a stage of life to accept it yet, without the experiences he has with Mi Ae, and without Nam Gyu's death, would he have made it to that point before it became too much? He says he didn't really believe love was possible for someone like him, it took him a lot to get to the point where he even starts to believe it; I find it hard to imagine that he could've gotten there purely through a relationship with Nam Gyu at that stage, as sad as that might be.

Mi Ae offers a bit of an interesting foil here. She chooses loss, but the loss of her authentic self. She chooses the safe option, a stable relationship and job, pleasing her parents, following societal expectations. Maybe the guy isn't quite right, but in the end what seems most important to her is that security, and she's willing to take a loss to get it. As others in the tags have pointed out, Go Young doesn't have that option. There is no option that will (mostly) guarantee him security and safety that would even be remotely tolerable and grant him any degree of happiness. Perhaps he could have chosen to lose parts of himself to be with Nam Gyu, but that wouldn't have provided him the type of security Mi Ae enjoys. If something went wrong and it didn't work out, he could stand to lose even more.

I think that's something that a lot of cishet people fail to understand, and part of what these episodes have done so well for me. Really underlining how the queer experience differs and how isolating it can be (which I think is reflected in Nam Gyu as well).

[cottoncandyafterdark]

Senku SFW Alphabet

Tags: SFW, alphabet meme, fluff, headcanons

Warnings: None

Notes: Originally posted on ao3 here

A: Affection (How affectionate are they with a s/o?)

He's not a very touchy person, so not very. Not physically, at least. He's a little more likely to express affection through his words.

B: Breath (What can their s/o do to take their breath away)

He appreciates the hell out of it if you take interest in what he does and what he's interested in, and likewise, he loves seeing you flex what you know and what you're good at.

C: Cuddle (Do they cuddle? If they do, how and when do they cuddle?)

Again, not really. Physical touch is a "sometimes" thing for Senku. When you're falling asleep together, he'll hold you, and when he's in the right mood, he can appreciate a good cuddle, but most of the time he'd rather not.

D: Dream (What do they dream of doing with their s/o?)

Saving the world, obviously. That's all he's ever wanted to do, right? What exactly that entails might change, but he wants to do it all by your side.

E: Effort (How much effort do they put into a relationship?)

So much. You're definitely his first partner, so early on, he's straight up doing research to figure out how to make this relationship work as well as possible... And then it's a whole other deal making what he learned actually work with his personality and style of showing love. He is putting WORK into this. Please be patient with him. Later on, the basic stuff comes a bit more naturally, but he's still putting his all into making sure you feel loved and happy with him, regardless of how distant he might sometimes come off.

F: Fear (What do they do if their s/o is scared? How do they handle it?)

If it's some kind of actual physical threat scaring you, unfortunately he's not going to be the most helpful. Like, he'll do his best to get you out of harm's way, but dude isn't exactly a knight in shining armor. Otherwise, he'd do his best to calm you down, maybe talk you through a breathing exercise or just talk to you to distract you or something. If it's a case of an irrational phobia, he'd probably try to tell you the facts about whatever it is you're scared of, i.e. telling you that a spider isn't venomous, and there's no way it could hurt you.

G: Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they want a gift in return?)

Senku's gifts are usually given in the neurodivergent style of "I found a cool rock I thought you'd like while I was out today" and that's all he wants in return, really. For bigger gifts, he'd both give and want to receive something practical, something actually useful.

H: Hugs (Do they hug their s/o? How often?)

He'll accept hugs from you, and might even reciprocate them. However, he'll rarely be the first to hug you, and it's not his preferred way of showing affection.

I: Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?)

Senku isn't romantic in the traditional sense. He might try at first, but it just isn't how he works. But if you're willing to meet him on his level, and accept how he does show his love, you'll find he's more romantic than most would give him credit for.

J: Jealous (Do they get jealous? How do they act when jealous?)

He'll tell you he doesn't get jealous, but that isn't quite true. He only gets jealous if you flirt with or show attraction to someone else, not the other way around, and he just gets a little irritated and tries to redirect your attention. It's pretty subtle, he might not even realize he's acting jealous at all.

K: Kiss (Are they a good kisser? Do they like to kiss? How often do they try to kiss you?)

So, Senku doesn't mind kissing, but he won't usually be the one to initiate it. At first, he's... Not the best kisser- he just doesn't have any experience, but he'll get better at it with time. As he gets used to it and to being in a relationship in general, he'll also kiss you more often.

L: Love (When do they say they love you? How often do they say it? Do they prefer to say it or show it?)

He doesn't say it much, he prefers to show it; and he shows it every time he kisses you, every time lets you casually touch him, every time he just hangs out with you and wants you to be near him.

M: Marriage (Do they want to get married? If so, what kind of ceremony?)

He'd be happy to get married eventually. He'd prefer a low-key ceremony and reception, not a lot of pomp and circumstance, just your close friends in attendance- if even that, he'd be perfectly happy to just elope- and not letting it get too sappy.

N: Night out (What type of dates do they like to go on? How often do they like to go on them?)

Does hanging out in the lab count as a date? If it were before the petrification, he'd probably take you to a museum, or maybe a library, if you wanted to go out. Otherwise, he'd be content to just hang out at home with you, and that's probably what you'll end up doing most of the time.

O: Out of the Ordinary (What’s something they don’t normally do for/with their s/o?)

I think I've established by now that he's not a fan of physical affection. Don't expect a lot of hugs and cuddles.

P: Playful (Are they playful in a relationship? If so, how do they play around/mess with their s/o?)

Nothing worse than anyone else gets from him. He has a dry sense of humor, so it's not always clear when he's joking, but he does joke around a fair bit. He likes to tease you a bit as well. Just some lighthearted ribbing.

Q: Questions (Do they ask their s/o their opinion on things? Do they share theirs?)

He asks for your opinion if it's about something that affects you or is in your area of expertise, and expects you to do the same for him. He's definitely not shy about sharing his opinion if you don't ask, though.

R: Random (How spontaneous is their relationship? Do they do things on the spot or plan ahead?)

He'd definitely prefer to plan things ahead. He's just not a super spontaneous person when he can help it, he likes to have things planned out. He wouldn't turn you down if you wanted to do something on the spot, though.

S: Sleep (How do they sleep with their s/o?)

While you're falling asleep together is one of the few contexts in which he's okay with a bit of cuddling. Admittedly, he'll probably wriggle out of your grasp once you fall asleep, but the warmth and pressure can be kinda nice when he's tired.

T: Trust (How much do they trust their s/o?)

Completely. End of sentence.

U: Unique (What makes them unique as a s/o?)

His intelligence, his immense kindness (whether or not he wants to admit it's there) add a little something to your relationship that you couldn't get with pretty much anyone else. His brain goes a mile a minute and it can be hard to keep up, but his brilliance and compassion are what make him so endearing.

V: Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?)

After you've been together for a while, you'll start to see cracks in the facade sometimes when you're alone with him. What he does is exhausting. He believes in his cause wholeheartedly, but it's not always as easy as he makes it look, and it gets to him sometimes. When he's alone with you, he starts to feel comfortable enough to show that.

W: Wild Card (Random domestic headcanon)

Senku is a surprisingly good cook- or maybe it's not such a surprise. I mean, he managed to make some decent ramen out of foxtail millet, with the proper ingredients and a good recipe, his food will be great.

X: X-Ray (What would they do if their s/o got injured?)

First, of course, he'd administer first aid. He's not a medical expert, exactly, but there's a good chance he's the person present with the most medical knowledge, so he might even be the person taking care of you throughout your recovery... And even if there was a more experienced medic around, he might just insist on helping. He wants to make sure you're okay.

Y: Yuck (Do they have any pet peeves about their s/o? Are there any habits that might bother their s/o?)

I think Senku doesn't really fuck with religion or mystical/unscientific stuff so while he probably wouldn't outright say anything derogatory or argue about it if you're a believer (unless your beliefs are really anti-science), it might still cause some conflict if that's something that's important to you.

Z: Zeal (Are they passionate as a s/o? Do they want or like passion?)

A lot of things you'd associate with a "passionate" relationship just aren't going to be there with Senku- he doesn't like most forms of physical touch, he doesn't outwardly emote a lot or express his feelings very well- but when he cares about something, he puts everything he has into it. You are no exception. The question isn't if Senku is passionate in your relationship, but if you'll recognize his passion.