#or are in a room that is over other people. im genuinely a fucking idiot whi figured no one could hear

[recents]

future reminder to self in case i convince myself it’s fine to not pace anymore in my apartment and not make noise when i walk and try not to make much noise at home so that the guy who lives underneath us doesn’t bring a fucking gun next time and doesn’t fucking kill my fucking bf and i because i was pacing and i dont know how to walk right. again. jesus christ

[6okuto]

Heyy hope you re having a good day ♡

Im loving your writing and I was wondering if you have any HCs for Vere? 😳🥺

VERE HCS 3

gn!reader | ! he's back again :3

if you're decorating the house for any holidays, vere won't be excited to help put things up, but will go shopping and has strong opinions. like, Strong opinions. honestly this holds up for any time outside of the holidays too

amused when you complain about his fur on your clothes. you ask if he really has to lie his tail right on your shirts that you've left on the bed and he says yes. you Must buy a lint roller! or whatever the equivalent is in TS!

always loves to shit on cheesy movies. watches a christmas romcom and calls the main girl an idiot for picking the village childhood friend guy or whatever. like what are you doing

if you ever asked if he wanted to meet your parents...i don't even know what he'd do. i don't think he'd know what to do. if it's super important to you, he'd do it, but he's genuinely frazzled because he never thought this would happen to him. somebody get him a top that isn't sheer...unless your parents are super chill?

pretty signature :3 ? always picks a pen over a pencil when given the option

y'know how mc wears bandages instead of gloves. yeah. i feel like he'd be one of the first LI's to be like . what's your issue just get gloves. That or the LI in dead last because he wanted to see how long it took for you to be like maybe bandages aren't effective. it could go either way at this point

casual physical touch! sits a little closer to you than he has to in a room of people. when he's bored and half-listening to what's going on, he fiddles with the hem of your clothes, or, in a world where he can touch you, your fingers. if he catches you not paying attention, he gets super close and rests his chin on your shoulder and smiles before asking what's going on in that pretty little head of yours

vere's eyes flicker over to you if you initiate some casual physical touch, but doesn't stop you. he might tease you, but that's just...vere. he'll be quiet about you resting your head on his shoulder, and won't move unless he has to.

for cuter affection like...randomly holding and peppering kisses on his face....the first couple of times he's like what the hell. caught off guard and his hands automatically come to hold onto your wrists, maybe scowls a little if you're doing it to embarrass him. but if he's feeling a little softer and you've been together for a while, he lets you and looks amused while you do it his tail wags a little when he asks if you're enjoying yourself—maybe he even says he thinks you missed a spot

if you're someone who isn't one to make (as many) sexual innuendos like him, if you start doing it, he's totally gonna pick up on it. like, immediately. says he's finally rubbing off on you. sooo fucking entertained if you do it to the others. he's straight up grinning at leander's shock from next to you.

distracts you from your problems before you can even bring them up. he's quick to pick up on when you're feeling bad, whether that's just being tired, or insecure, or frustrated etc. he comes up with some excuse of some show tonight, so go put on a nice outfit and join him. he needs to do some chores, and you wouldn't make him go alone, would you? he'll be a little more affectionate, pick up your favourite foods, 'accidentally' pass by that one store you love and if you're already here, you might as well go in—he knows you want to.

[zarkishere]

Meet... Ruben Connor!

My dumb dumb stupid idiot I hate <3

(i do wanna say a lot of the things he does is based on how I play RDR, so yeah HAJKSGHKJASG)

(yapping time. this is your fault.)

HE'S SO SO DUMB I LOVE HIM I'M SO SERIOUS. GOD. HE MAKES ME SO MAD. idk if I'll ever tell the full story, buuut I'll tell a bit rn :)

He was born in Brazil to a Brazilian mother and a Mexican father, but when he was young his dad got sick and wanted to see Mexico one last time so they went all the way there...and mf died like a week after and then wtf like what are they gonna do that's crazy

ANYWAY, SCARS AND RANDOM FACTS!!

ion wanna explain where he got these, but I WILL say the arm one was kinda because of Dutch....yikers

he loves animals. Like. God. Keep him AWAY, or he WILL try to get close to the cute baby (cougar)

is into embroidery!!

he overthinks a lot and sometimes just starts eating to distract himself, so Grimshaw taught him how to do embroidery so he had somth to do with his hands other than Cut Up Random Shit or Eat

comes home soaked in blood so often he has to buy new white shirts every few days (it's a real problem, he spends so much money, god help him)

has forgotten most of his Brazilian, and it actually makes him very upset

Next, relationship charts! (THIS IS A VERY SELF-INDULGENT OC LEAVE ME ALONE)

what he thinks of others

notes!

Ruben sees Arthur, John and Tilly as siblings!

Has called Arthur and Charles dad more than once while drunk (don't mention it he gets really embarassed)

generally /pos with everyone :)

you see, Ruben is very much a yes man and is sometimes wayy too easy to trust, so for him to think negatively of you, you gotta be some fucked up bastard 😭😭

Likes referring to people by nicknames based on animals. Like, Javier is coyote, Kieran is patito (YES IM STEALING FROM MYSELF), John is Lobito (he fucking hates it), etc.

calls Dutch dad when he needs something, calls Hosea dad when he's genuinely upset

in general, Hosea is the favorite parent (to no-one's surprise)

...what? what about Javier? Oh, uhh...it's complicated. (aka, they're two men in 1899. They're never giving what they have a label they're just Something) (they are really gay tho like damn get a room)

actually really disliked Javier at first! (internalized homophobia + being forced to go with him since "they're both Mexicans") (yeah Dutch said that, and while Javier brushed it off Ruben Did Not Forget) (he got over it eventually tho)

what others think of him

notes!

most people think he's too reckless, tbh.

he is tho ngl LMOA--he'll run in with only a knife if he's all out of bullets, will accidentally throw the dynamite at his feet and panic or other bullshit like he's a bit of a bloodthirsty idiot

Micah doesn't absolutely hate him cuz he finds enjoyment in seeing the fool do fucked up shit

Charles often gives him That Look when he's doing something wrong, and he'll immediately know to stop

alright idk what else to say HJKASGHJKASGJKASG I could yap on FOREVERRRR, but you don't care so it's okay

this is YOUR FAULT for telling me I should post about my rdr2 oc okay

anyway, thank you for telling me that, it's made me happy <3

[k1ss-m3-b3tt3r]

𖣯 High as a Kite 𖣯

pairing: jonathan byers x male! reader (romantic)

summary: smoking weed takes away the feeling of loneliness by providing you with the most perfect food combinations and your best friends. jonathan tries to confess but you cant comprehend a word he says, making him embarrassed and you, wearing fuzzy llama socks, screaming in laughter.

warnings: cursing, weed, awkward but cute fluff :)

a/n: i love fluff and have such a weak heart for jonathan! also happy yule!!! not revised btw

you were always a stoner and somewhat a loner, until you met jonathan and argyle. whenever it was awkward, you would crack a joke and no one could stop laughing. its just something you picked up from high school a while back, the class clown title. you couldnt deal with emotions so getting high was comforting and you were better explaining how you feel while smoking.

while being a cool stoner, youre also oblivious as fuck. everyone notices and im pretty sure you lost most brain cells, but to jonathan you were perfect. not everything about you was perfect, definitely not, but the way you show that goofy smile really lights up the room was magical. it was a hard core crush at this point.

you were never really part of the group until last year, after all the shit that went down in hawkins. you started hanging out with argyle, liking his stoner ways and matched his energy perfectly. “we are all one with the world” and “bro think about it, we’re all just brains! i dont get why people could hate each other.” were things you said quite often while stoned.

today was the day though: to confess. jonathan was nervous, like extremely after the whole thing with nancy and the break up. it hurt him definitely but he decided it was time to actually get out there and do what he wants to do. jonathan invited you over, thinking about how to do this correctly, so he prepped himself, rehearsing the lines. all of a sudden, the doorbell rings.

“ill get it!” jonathan yells while getting off of his ass as quick as possible. his hands were pretty sweaty so he wiped it off, heading to the front door.

“whos that?” joyce says genuinely curious, but of course she rolls her eyes and puts her hand on her hip and steps in front of jonathan. “youre doing all the chores for a week if thats (y/n).” joyce smiles a cheeky grin.

the doorbell starts again, but this time being pressed on a thousand times. “IM COMING!!” joyce yells ignoring jonathan. “wait..!” he tells joyce but she ignores him. shes his mother after all, not the other way around.

once the doors open, (y/n) spins around. “heyyyy miss joyce!” she turns and looks at jonathan with the i knew it face. “uhh, want me to wait out here- nevermind its too cold..” (y/n) jogs inside and acts like its the coldest hes ever felt. jonathan just looks at him like hes an idiot. “come on, lets just go to my room” as he sighs to himself.

before they go anywhere, (y/n) whispers, “hey, bro, hey.. i got the good shit and i may have smoked half of it in my car, but i left you some!” “get your ass in the room!” jonathan mumbles in an exhausted but hushed voice, trying to get (y/n) into a room.

“uh, bye i guess miss joyce..?” “uh huh, you too (y/n)…” she gives a questioning voice with her brow raised, “dont get into any trouble!” (y/n) laughs it off and runs into the bedroom like an idiot. you can here the springs get hit on jonathans bed all the way from the door way.

jonathan gives a little grin, heading towards his room. when he gets there (y/n) is already bringing out the bong, packing it terribly since hes already high as a kite. “hey bro, you gotta check this shit out, its feisty! back i say, back!” while acting like the bag of weed is after him. jonathan laughs and sits on the bed, taking the whole bowl down in a few hits.

“what is in this (y/n)..?” jonathan starts to feel prickles in his legs and his eyes droop. “i told its good shit! i know the best people my man” (y/n) packs another bowl and starts hitting that shit like crazy.

ten minutes later, theyre starting at the ceiling, on the floor of course. jonathan looks over and catches the other guys face, its practically glowing. the guy sits up and looks towards jonathan with his eyes glazed over. “bro… what did i come over here for again..?” jonathan hesitates, “um, i dont know..” jonathan turns away thinking about the confession hes supposed to make but clearly doesnt remember what he practiced.

“damn.. you know man, you cant lie to me even if im high,” (y/n) says as he ruffles his hair and stands up, walking in circles because it “feels good” as you can quote it. “ok ok, i just have to say one thing i guess?” (y/n) stops and stares at him, while jonathan is taking in all his features, down to his beautiful eyes and.. llama socks..??

jonathan sighs, sitting up and rubbing his hands against his face. “umm, (y/n)?” “yuh?” jonathan laughs and just says, “yuh? what does that even mean mannn?” (y/n) looks at him and bursts out laughing. jonathan looks at his hands, “what was i saying?” “bro, i cant even remember what we’ve done for the past uhhh i dont know twelve minutes?” “uh huh, really specific there (y/n)..” (y/n) just grins.

(y/n) stares at the llama socks and whispers, “i think theyre watching me…” jonathan stands up, urgently, asking who is while looking outside. “…the llamas bro…” jonathan looks at him as (y/n) makes that goofy grin. that goofy grin lit up his heart and he realizes what this whole thing was about. he sits next to (y/n) and give him a shy smile.

“ok so um..” jonathan thinks for a moment before blurting out, “i think im in love with you?” (y/n) jolts up and looks at jonathan. “i dont think ive eaten anything today. should i be worried? will i die?” “did you even hear what i said?” jonathan laughs and touches the other guys hand. “i. am. in. love. with. you. does that make sense??” (y/n) just looks at jonathan then looks at his hand and then the door. “if you really love me, get me food my guy.” jonathan sits dumbfounded as (y/n) says that, wondering how he even fell in love with the guy, before laughing. “alright, deal i guess??”

jonathan goes out of his room a little embarrassed, while (y/n) was doing something wild most likely. as soon as jonathan gets back with the food, you have already made a nest out of blankets and pillows on the floor. “what…??” jonathan takes a second before speaking again, “what are you doing?” (y/n) raised his hand, telling jonathan to stop speaking.

“i made a nest and i love you too loser.” (y/n) sits on the floor in his new nest, cuddled up in a ball. jonathan was too stunned to speak. he had to think about what was happening and almost dropped the chips he had in his hand. “so, you made me get food, built a nest, and now you say you love me??” “well..” (y/n) looks around, “yes? now get in.”

jonathan sits in the “nest” and (y/n) immediately pulls jonathan towards him, while sitting quietly. “you know you should brush your hair, its starting to look like an actual nest. jonathan starts laughing and fixing his hair. “is that better?” (y/n) looks at his nest below him and then looks back at jonathan, nodding to himself. “thatll do just fine.” (y/n) soft kisses his head.

jonathan looks around at the nest and then at the bags of chips before looking back at (y/n) again. “youre smoking privileges are being revoked after this.” jonathan laughs and (y/n) gives him a knowing look. “sure thing dude.. sure thing..”

[tonydaddingham]

am i missing something in kinda comparing the entire maggie and nina situation to paris? 'cause there was no need to get them to fall in love. a&c might not be able to make people actually feel it, but they seem to have mind control down pat without much effort (or any moral quandaries). they could have waited for an angel to show up and just faked it- easy, certain way out. it's not like the idea of working together like that is even weird, not after the gabriel miracle.

so. either they missed it, which is plausible, and uhhh, renders this whole ask pointless, or *would* have moral issues with it (also plausible💀), or they're being completely ridiculous again, and would rather plan balls than actually make an effort to get themselves out of Mortal Fucking Peril (not that aziraphale necessarily knows it is). i think it would fit the pattern, honestly- when not having huge blowouts over *problems of their own making* (hey aziraphale kill this kid it'll be fine, aziraphale why won't you ditch earth with me, crowley why won't you come to heaven with me), the ineffables always seem to be constantly, aggressively orbiting eachother, making heart eyes and goofing off (cough end of the resurrectionists "not kind" cough) with 0 regard for safety except for the (very very sadly i can't find the -ennial word for every other century) occasional heart attack, and then just skipping right back down the aisle.

(hope this is coherent, i've been editing things a little too long to tell)

hello @aq-uatic my darling!!!💕

(bby im so sorry!!! i thought i had posted this ages ago and i went rooting around in the drafts to continue something else and realised i hadn't!!! im an idiot sorry!!!)

i think there is some context behind aziraphale's actions in particular with this scene:

we know that aziraphale has a fondness for maggie, that i'd argue goes slightly beyond the fondness he has for humans in general (and even then that's questionable at times), and he seems genuinely put out that he's not in a position to help her - to wiggle his fingers about, and make it happen for her (horrifying implications, aziraphale, but we move). so, whilst aziraphale obviously is prompted into the whole 'lets-make-these-two-humans-fall-in-love-bc-that's-totally-normal-and-okay' by holding the everyday record back in the bookshop, i think there is an element of aziraphale genuinely wanting to help her, and coming up with the ball is his interpretation of an organic way to do that (💀). but it doesn't justify the whole thing one little bit; despite the possibility of that being his intention, it's completely batshit - nina certainly didnt know, let alone consent, to anything, and maggie didn't either; they're not dolls for either of them to play around with.

essentially though, i agree - any logical, coherent, sensible thinking would have probably just helped them arrive at a solution that didn't involve warping reality and bringing a whole room of people under a horrifying amount of hypnosis. but you have two supernatural creatures who, in a fairly major way by the time of 2023 at least, have their sense of existing amongst humanity influenced by not only the clandestine, dramatic nature of their own story, but by their tendencies towards damsel-but-not-wholly-in-distress-ing and anti-hero-at-best-ing respectively. we have to barely scratch the surface to see the intertextuality between these traits of theirs, and where they might stem from stories told in certain books and movies (emma by jane austen, and james bond spring to mind).

they constantly talk in riddles to each other, in code and in double meanings - they may somewhat understand the general sense of what the other is saying, but it's not categorical and leaves too much room for error or misinterpretation (which, ultimately, it does). it's a constant dance circling each other, ebbing and flowing, pulling in and drawing back, but never coming together properly; it's a quadrille vs. a waltz.

it makes sense that they are so used to finding the most roundabout and convoluted ways to do things, and this continues into s2, because not only is it how it tends to go down in fiction, but also because that's literally how they've had to exist - not only so their closeness isn't detected, or so their true natures aren't suspected by their respective head offices, but also by nature of being literal supernatural creatures living amongst humans - sleeper agents, of a kind - and constantly having to exist without detection.

none of this makes it right, of course not - but i actually don't think they see any other way of going about things. they're so good at it, so well practiced, that (as just two examples) they run verbal rings around gabriel/metatron (book) and beelzebub chattering about the great vs. ineffable plans at the airfield, and they dance around the most straightforward solution to the maggie/nina problem. as for themselves and their relationship, they dont speak plainly to each other until the bandstand or final fifteen... and even then, i feel like its aziraphale that is maybe the first to break and speak plainly? idk:

i think it's clear that crowley is the more scared, and therefore the more cautious, in this regard. for all his objections attempting to distance himself as an angel compared to crowley's being a demon, aziraphale feels to me that he is the more inclined to throw caution to the wind. i think its because crowley understands the danger in blowing their cover a little more than aziraphale does - aziraphale on multiple occasions slips in nearly admitting their closeness (1800, end of 1827 as you pointed out, and when meeting with the archangels in heaven in s1) - and is still stuck in the safety that dancing around what should be plainly said affords them. they both - as you wonderfully put it - aggressively orbit each other, and breaking the holding pattern comes a little too late.

so no, i think your drawing the parallel between the Weird-Ass dynamic in 1793, how they handle the maggie/nina storyline, and then how they behave with each other, is very apt! but its, at this time, arguably all that they've known - acting in this way - and breaking the cycle is starting to happen, but won't pay its dividends until s3✨

[tortoisebore]

OKAY SO FOR MY RAMBLE REQUEST i wanna know the losers’ love language

YES YES YES

this one got SO long & sappy im so so sorry gfjgnfjkgnjfkn

first i think growing up in a situation of neglect and abuse would have made it difficult for sirius to understand what it meant to intentionally give and receive love, and he'd genuinely have no idea what to do with overly affectionate people (like james!!!) for a long time. but once he got out of that home situation and had some time to process and start heal from it, i think he'd be extremely affectionate with the people he loves.

physical touch would be the biggest one--once he was able to understand that touch could be something gentle and precious, it became the easiest way to show people that he loved them. he was hesitant with it for a while because he was afraid that other people might be uncomfortable with it like he had been, but that turned into him having a super sharp eye when it came to understanding peoples' comfort levels with different kinds of affection without them needing to say it.

so by the time he & remus get together he understands himself a lot better in that regard. if you would have asked before, he would have said his only real love language was physical touch because it was his first instinct & what he had experience with, but he didn't really need things like gifts or acts of service to feel loved. like, he got quite enough of that growing up between all the extravagant birthday gifts he never wanted and the home staff waiting on him hand and foot his whole childhood & thinks he could probably go his entire life without experiencing either of those things ever again.

but then he starts seeing remus and everything turns upside down. on their third date remus brings him a tiny green glass bird trinket that he'd found at the thrift store they stopped by during their second date. sirius hadn't bought it then, but remus went back and got it the next day just because he said he'd liked it. so sirius gets home from their third date and puts it on his windowsill and stares at it for like.....fifteen entire minutes and decides it's his most cherished possession and if he could save one single thing from his entire room in a fire, it would be the bird. and then he gives remus a key to his apartment the week after that in retaliation because fuck it he's literally in love with that stupid sweet idiot & it was either that or ask him to fucking move in on their fourth date

and then it's their six month anniversary and remus is coming over for dinner and sirius is gonna whip up a nice little fancy pasta situation, but he gets held up because some moron decided to knock over an entire shelf of CDs on the back wall of the music store where he's been working the last couple of months. so he calls remus on the verge of tears & tells him he's going to be really late and maybe they should reschedule and he's so so so sorry, and remus is nice about it because he's always nice but sirius feels like absolute shit because he'd made all these plans and now he has to spend two fucking hours putting the shelf back together and reorganizing the CDs.

so he trudges home in a mood and he's so so sad and it's been the literal worst day ever, but then he gets home and remus is already there. he's lit candles and cleaned the kitchen and set the table, and he's done a really good job at attempting the fancy pasta situation sirius had planned even though he's a shit cook, and sirius' favorite cheap wine from the grocery store is on the counter next to a pretty little bouquet of flowers. and remus goes 'happy six month anniversary!!' and he's so fucking sweet that sirius just....,,.bursts into tears in the doorway. and remus is like "uhh!!! 😧 i'm sorry!! hey wait hold on I'm sorry!! are you okay!!" and sirius literally wants to tackle him to the ground because !!!! no one has ever worked this hard to make him happy !!!! no one has gone out of their way like this just because they loved him !!!! and that's a really fucking emotional discovery to make when he's just spent two hours alphabetizing five hundred CDs.

physical touch is still his number one love language because it's comforting and calming and he likes feeling desired, but the times that remus picks up his favorite chocolate on the way home just because he wanted to or does all the laundry on the weekends sirius has a hard time at work are just as meaningful as the times that remus hugs him from behind while he makes their coffee in the morning or walks with a hand in his back pocket when they're out together. he's not picky about the way that remus loves him, but sirius knows he tries really hard to do it in the most meaningful ways and that alone is enough to make him feel more secure and more cherished than he's ever felt with anyone else.

now switching gears, remus is an introvert. like, imagine the biggest introvert you've ever met and then multiply that by a hundred. he has an ongoing problem with tuning out in the middle of conversations because his social filter hit E out of nowhere, or staying holed up at home for three days trying to get energy back after a night out. his time and energy are rare and fleeting gifts, so quality time has always been the biggest way he shows people he loves them. but he's never desired someone else's time until sirius.

sirius is energetic and bright and and magnetic and he doesn't even have to do anything special to have entire rooms of people gravitating towards him. he could do anything he wanted, talk with anyone he wanted, be anywhere he wanted, but the fact that he chooses to give his time and attention to remus means more than any words or gifts or acts of service ever could.

he's really fucking surprised that sirius even agrees to go out with him in the first place, and even more surprised that he's completely present and engrossed in every moment when they are out together. he doesn't get distracted with his phone, doesn't stop and make conversation with every person that waves at him when they're at his regular coffee shop, doesn't try to fill every silence with thoughts or words that don't matter. he's entirely content to just be together, which is more than remus could have ever hoped to find in another person.

so one evening in the summer they're at remus' place watching reruns of a show they'd already finished, and remus is thinking he's never been happier in his life than he is in that moment--just sitting together quietly, sirius tucked into his side with his head on his shoulder, tracing little patterns onto his palm and giving a little laugh at the tv every once in a while. and then sirius' phone rings on the other side of the couch and he answers it on speakerphone, and it's marlene saying she got him a last minute ticket to that concert in the park downtown they'd been trying to get into for weeks. sirius perks up and remus deflates--of course sirius is going to go, and he absolutely should, he's been talking about this concert all summer, remus is just sad he'll have to leave--but then sirius goes 'ugh i'm sorry, i had something come up and i can't go tonight, you should take dorcas!!!' and he hangs up and just settles back in and remus is like '....hello?? why aren't you going??' and sirius just shrugs and squeezes him a little tighter and goes 'i'd rather be here with you' and remus loves him so so so bad he thinks he might explode with it

and sirius is also really, really good at knowing when remus needs A Moment. he's always been able to read remus like a book, even back when things were new, like he has some kind of sixth sense that lets him know when remus is Done and needs to go home and recharge. recharging also sometimes means being alone, and after a very brief period of misunderstanding in their early days, sirius gets it, and he understands like no one else ever has and gives remus that precious space when he needs it. remus knows that's difficult for him some days, so he works really, really hard to pay attention and make sure he's doing everything he can to let sirius know how much he loves him, even when he needs to be alone sometimes. if that means leaving work early to meet him for the walk home or getting up at the crack of dawn on mondays to grab coffees before sirius wakes up then so fucking be it, he'll go out of his way every single day for the rest of his life if it means sirius feels even half of remus' love for him

he also never would have thought physical touch would become so important to him until sirius. remus wasn't ever one to reach out first, and sirius had always been touchy--casual their first few dates and then leaning further into it; holding remus' hand as they walked from his work to the coffee place down the street, playing with his hair absently while they watched a movie or before falling asleep, trailing an delicate hand up his shirt in public and blinking at him innocently when remus sent him a warning look, giving a sweet little 'i have no idea what you're talking about' while dragging his nails down remus' spine, all evil and smug about it, pushing his buttons expertly until remus pulls him from the room & tugs him in the direction of home. but remus loves those moments now, cherishes them just like he cherishes everything else, and feels more wanted than he ever has before

sirius taught him a lot about how to love other people, how to study and learn them well enough to understand what they need, and ask for help when he got it wrong. he learned a lot about self-worth, about feeling deserving of the abundance of love that had suddenly crash-landed into his life, how to sit with it and accept it and give it in return, just because he wants to

[llycaons]

ep14 (pt1): oh boy romantic montage time

wwx as a teenager is genuinely more compassionate than he's portrayed as

aw shit mention of the oath

I've often been confused by this sequence. if they showed wwx actually entering the shell instead of suddenly cutting to him inside this big red cavern, I think it would have made more sense

also I've often complained that animals don't have large rooms in their bodies like that but I just realized....oh yeah it's an ancient twisted monster. animal biology need not apply so 🤡

honestly I found this fight scene very drawn-out and uninteresting. the special effects for the fight were somewhat awkward and I was kind of bored. this was good though

wyb does 'devastated' very well

I'm kind of missing the donhua ngl. I like cql the best but the donghua was just so focused and clever and creative with the story

wwx is all kinds of fucked up after this fight....not just from his concerning readiness to die but probably also from connecting with this cursed fucking sword. he seems really out of it, and seems to be in a drowsy sort of honesty when he's like 'oh lan zhan...I didn't think I'd be able to meet you again' which is a very...nitimate thing to say? bc later when lwj gives him spiritual energy and he's a little more himself

he sees lwj all lit up and helping him and he starts complaining about how 'boring' it is. face your feelings, wwx! stop avoiding them! you think lwj is beautiful and unique and special and you like him a lot!

it's also. I feel like wwx doesn't feel like he even has the right to have an attachment outside of the jiangs? in some scenes he's really enthusiastic about himself and lwj being partners but in others he hastily denies it in order to smooth things over with jc, so jc doesn't feel abandoned. oof. we'll get to that

okay the top one is the viki and the bottom one is the youtube version which I remember! why are the translations the opposite of each other! also the youtube version is literally higher quality im so mad

god damn I love the lyrics to wuji. they almost don't matter, since they never come up after this and they're not relevant to the song's significance within the narrative, but they're perfect. it's about the struggles of a lifetime, about grief and joy, the ups and downs of being in the world, of reputation lost and gained. vague and poetic, and achingly relevant. that last line about sharing a tune together at the horizon....that's the finale, isn't it? just beautifully put together and a powerful reflection of the story itself, wwx's rise and fall and the pains and joys he's going to face. cannot believe a 16 yr old wrote that. tho if it was anyone, it would be lwj wouldn't it

lwj is ALWAYS the one leaving without saying goodbye! no wonder wwx lost faith! in this context the gusu situation is a little urgent but like. he couldn't have left a note?

I've read a few fics where they sleep together in the cave and 1. nasty and 2. that would make him just leaving after so much worse 😭 I do not endorse the first time cave sex headcanon. I still don't think it would realistically happen until ep 43. too early here, and after sunshot wwx is terrified of anyone touching him because they'll be able to tell he's lost his core. so as fun as angsty sunshot hookups are, I simply cannot see it. tho that would technically also be a factor in ep43, I don't think wwx cares as much by then if lwj knows

aw shit good job jzx

jc is yelling at wwx AGAIN and complaining about not being recognized for his efforts. my dude he just woke up from a week-long fevered sleep chill out. also can jzx stop crowding him? it's like these idiots have no idea how to treat sick people ALSO. why did jc have to run for help? they had a ton of people there. couldn't they have removed the boulders themselves? huh, maybe the wens were hanging around and all they could do was flee

wwx and ljw have such main character energy that wen chao KNEW they stayed behind to kill the false xuanwu...okay

the shidis are learning archery and jyl is just...standing there. okay! couldn't have had her like, reading or doing crafts. nope. just standing there. probably looking out for her returning brothers but like. come on

I really love that jfm personally goes to teach the little disciples. he's gentle and encouraging, and provides a reassuring and secure presence, and I'm sure his students love him. despite his flaws I'm very fond of him esp here

oh wwx, fainting again. first of many

this detail is legit so freaking cute. and wwx's warm smile upon seeing it and knowing he's home 🥰 this supports my 'wwx is a hopeless romantic' agenda. I did laugh when the donghua gave one of them huge boobs but the wx subtext in that show was so potent I can't really accuse them of straightwashing. more evidence for him being bi is all

good for you, jc

see, here he's trying to make jc feel better by calling lwj boring and jc just - lashes out. wwx tries this entire scene to deflect praise onto jc and diminish his accomplishments and to support jc and jc just treats him like shit. no wonder their relationship is so terrible later if jc treats him like this just bc he's mad. can't he see that wwx has no more control over this situation than jc does? he's just the acceptable target in jc's eyes bc jc can't be mad at his parents!

like wen chao was trying to murder mm and string up her body to attract the monster which they were going to be expected to fight without weapons. what the fuck was he supposed to do? and he's not even the one who started the fight! AND if he hadn't stayed behind, how could everyone else has escaped? I didn't see jc offering any other solutions! jesus

it sucks that jfm is implying that jc doesn't have the right temperament to lead the clan, but he's literally the only person in authority to push back against jc's treatment of wwx this arc. and he's literally right that you shouldn't speak from anger. it's not what a leader should do, it's not fair or just, it doesn't allow you to speak wisely or carefully, and it's not something that will lead anywhere good. but after this arc all jc does is lead from anger and bitterness!

it's also so twisted that wwx feels responsible for this and tries to defend jc as 'he's just mad and venting' which he says is fine here but later in the story he bitterly complains about. like I know he loves and misses LP as an adult but this entire situation was absolutely noxious for everyone involved. ppl talk about jyl being parentified but wwx felt obligated to do the same for jc as well and put aside all his own needs and emotions for jc's as soon as this shit starts up. he acts like the undeserving servant as soon as he feels like he needs to I feel dizzy

[sotiriabellou]

last year after the first few days of the war in ukraine we were discussing it in class bc it was like being discussed everywhere and there was this dickhead in my class that brought two pictures of putin(a normal one and the one wheres hes riding a horse half naked.yeah) and hang up one of them on the class board for everyone to see then interrupted every lesson to ask the teacher their opinions about the war and make jokes about it to which everyone chuckled and like the none of teachers directly disagreed with him and just asked him his "opinions" about the war-to which he just parroted the same pro russia arguments that were all over the internet to make himself sound like he cared or was actually informed about the war but like he wasnt and you could tell bc he was like the class clown/devils advocate kinda guy who always said racist shit just to turn heads and have a laugh cus hes a fucking moron- and like!!!!!i was the only one who actually said anything and im not saying that to make myself look better but like genuinely i was so confused that everyone was just going along with him bc like the kids in my class werent idiots!!!!in class discussions we had about like human rights and the like most of them presented well thought out opinions and would generally seems very open minded and progressive but like noone was saying anything to this clown who was literally making jokes about war and how putin was going to march through ukraine and how we should join to fight with him and like no one said anything they just laughed!!!it was so sickening and when i started saying to him that he shouldn't joke about war bc russia is killing people and like invading their country he just parroted the same "they have to protect themselves from nato uwu" bs and then the teachers interrupted me and let him say his bullshit and didnt let me speak??!and chastised ME for tearing down putins image from our class board and throwing it in the trash like???????shit made me feel like the only sane person in the room and im truly not the kind of person to think myself above others but like i felt so insane because none of them were saying anything!!??!!!and the teacher was like a substitute and she said she was pro russia bc her husband was russian and then changed the subject immediately and didnt let me get a word in and i wasnt able to confront her about the fact that she let a student joke about killing ppl bc she never showed up to our school after that day.oh and the stupid shit hang up the second photo after i destroyed the first one so i waited it for class to end to take it down and flush into the school toilet and the idiot was whining about his picture being gone.im still not over that like it makes me so angry how hypocritical all of them were like to present themselves as progressive and then proceed not to stand up to the guy and even laugh at his stupid fucking genocide jokes.still makes me furius like a year later i hope that guy dies painfully.amen

[neogreenhillzz]

guh i need to vent.

i hate how unintuitive this program feels to me, i hate these stupid big ass screens that probably cost a fortune and arent even worth it, they make me so angry bc theyre so fucking stupid, theyre big and incovenient and dont let literally anyone see the teacher or the whiteboard, even people taller than me so it's not even just bc im short, literally everyone has to lean sideways to see anything. i hate their stupid idiotic and useless mouses and the stupid keyboard that decided neEdEd to be dIferEnT so they dont even work like literally every other keyboard in the market. how everything is so different from all other computers so on top of being slow as fuck to do anything thanks to the huge screen and so miniature mouse, it's also EXTRA unintuitive. i need to relearn how the stupid thing works like every week and i hate that. i guess im also angry at myself bc i cant get the hang of this stupid program. i think if the conditions were better maybe i'd focus more and get better at it quicker, but considering the people around me, the terrible conditions of the material we NEED to use, i feel even slower. i like to think im alright at getting new programs, i wasnt nearly as slow or terrible at learning toonboom and yet this program persists. i even feel better with it on the other computers so i genuinely think this room is making it worse. the teacher is so nice and so helpful and i would LOVE to learn it but its so frustrating. ugh. rant over i think im feeling better :)

[tears-of-boredom]

she just has zero nuance. i talked about menial things like the weather and what we're going to eat? we astablished a connection. i talk about how it would be nice to do different things sometimes? im ready and cabable to do those things as soons as opportunity arrives. i dont fucking get it. im your daughter. you have to fucking know just how little you know about me. maybe i dont talk because everytime I try and explain why she's misrepresenting me, she literally starts to argue about how, actually no she's not, it's just how she sees the situation. and then my viewpoint gets forgotten. even me deciding to make a point and sit on the couch until 12, is now "yeah I talked to her and explained how important this was". no. i was trying to fucking show you how much of a corpse i look because I haven't slep. i was showing to not force me to do shit because i wont fucking comply. i was not answering the useless questions. i didnt have the energy to do so. like I said I wouldnt. also her reminding everyone how good my grades would be if I put some effort into them has become such a fucking trigger by now. give me a genuine compliment for once. oh wait you cant because you dont fucking knoe anything about me. me going to church on two sundays is not me being actually interested in going to church. its me trying to come up with anything to look forward to, and desperately just deciding to try if the christian god suddenly wants to help me. i know that there is no way for you to know that, and that to you it may seems like i specifically like the "going to church" part of it. but there is no way for you to know if your view is correct either. so dont fucking frame it in that way to these adults, who are no doubt going to take everything you say at face value. i prefer the buddy system they are planning over living away from home, because I can't see either one working, but atleast for the other i dont have to pack a lot of shit and be forced to sociliaze. the first time I was away, the staff commented how, at first I was really hanging around the others, but then later holed myself in my room. they are fucking idiots. of course I would try and please the adults, did you not hear the quiet but talented syndrome my mom diagnosed me with. and naturally i get fucking tired of having to humor these adults every day like its a fucking job. my wants did not change over time, I just realised that i actually could refuse on doing activities, and that people wouldnt see me as a bad child because of that.

i fucking hate adults. why do they trust my mom so much. why does my mom think that the therapy is working. why does she think my school absences are related to something so trivial as her not being home as much. and it's just so fucking frustrating how she technically doesnt state the things as facts, but she frames them in that way where it is so fucking implied that what shes saying is the truth and that she knows me and can tell shit by just observing me in an enviroment that has her in it.

i cant fucking see from these weird water droplets in my eyes suddenly.

she takes me being annoyed as like, me being really offended.

i just dont know what im supposed to say or do. I cant bring myself to actually open up to anyone who I'm supposed to, because my mom has made me think that no one will understand my words and will always take them the wrong way.

crying to see you again by miley cyrus is truly something. why me. why the fuck. why. why. why. why. why. why. why. why. why. why. why. why do I have to live.

i just feel like i should do something but because i cant bring myself to do anything it feels like its my fault. my pillow is so fucking wet and im ugly crying in that way where your face twists to extremes and you cant stop it and I fucking hate life.

why do other people get to have a fucking life and I get this. sorry i dont actually mean that good for you if you have a life im just so fucking jealous.

i hate adults. none of them ever seem to realise that children are capable of humoring adults. playing along. theyre just so fucking stupid. and they probably all allistic as well. the ones in my "adults trying to help me" circle i mean.

it was also really painful how mom talks always like getting me to go to school is the top priority. like she genuinely doesnt see the mental health issues. she genuinely thinks I havent daydreamed about killing her. she thinks that me going to school is even on the table. ahe thinks that my mental health has just had severe downs, from which i recoverved from. she thinks i dont have trauma.

im tired. from the lack of sleep and probably all the crying as well.

im sad that I cant bring myself to kms. i dont know id just like to step out. quit the game. stop this bullshit thats happening.

[f1nalboys]

Okay, okay! So I love your poly!Ghostface dark/angst, but I wanna see you do some poly!Ghostface dark/fluff too(if that's a thing?)! Still unhealthy/toxic relationship, but one where their feelings are at least actually true and genuine. Trio vs the World shit. Best Friends to Lovers blah blah blah cause you know Im a slut for that lmao. NSFW too if you're willing 👀

AHH so glad I finally got to this request I'm sorry it took me so long :(( HOWEVER i had fun writing it!! i really hope you enjoy (ps, no smut unfortunately i tried to add it and it was coming out wrong ahhh) flashbacks are italicized! 

WORD COUNT: 2352

WARNINGS: toxic relationship, kinda cute moments between the three of you, cursing, little bit of stalking, threats of violence, no nsfw because i was a little lazy sorry :,(

Had someone told you five years ago that you'd be dating not only Billy Loomis but Stu Macher as well, you’d have laughed straight in their face. And yet here you were, curled up on the couch between the two, your legs thrown over Billys and your head resting on Stu’s shoulder, watching a horror movie. You smile softly as you feel Billy’s hand grip your thigh slightly. He never seemed to realize he was doing it which made it even cuter.

“Remember the day I met you guys?” You question, head moving off of Stu’s shoulder when he turns to look at you. He gives you a goofy grin and nods, kissing the tip of your nose. “Sure, baby. Why?”

“Did you think we would have gotten together? Like, back then?”

“Definitely,” Billy says, poking his finger into your side. You raise an eyebrow at him, catching his hand and holding it in your lap. He sighs, grinning slightly. “Alright, maybe not the day we met, but I knew pretty soon. Why? What’s got you thinking about it?”

You shrug, not really sure yourself. Something about the situation you three were in at the moment made your mind drift to those few awful god damn weeks. “You two really sucked then, you know? Honestly, I’m surprised I didn't kill you both.”

Stu gasps, throwing himself back with a hand on his heart. You roll your eyes; ever the dramatic. “You would have hurt us? I can’t believe this… the betrayal!” You elbow him and he sits back up, laughing, and wraps his arms around you, planting a few sloppy kisses onto your neck.

“We weren’t even that bad, babe.” Billy says, eyes widening as you glare at him.

“Not that bad? Do I need to remind you of the first thing you said to me when we met?” You shoot back, sitting up closer to Stu. You had already forgiven the two for how they acted then, but that doesn’t mean you can’t give them a hard time.

The first day you met Billy and Stu, it had started out good. You still didn’t have many friends but that was perfectly okay with you. You were sat in the grass outside one of the buildings where your next class was held, waiting. Thirty more minutes and you got to go to math; yay. You were leaned up against a tree, headphones in, trying to relax, when two men stood in front of you. They were pretty cute. One was tall, wearing a thin sweater and a goofy grin, while the other was shorter with dark hair and a smirk. The tall one's mouth moves and you pull your earbuds out, about to apologize for not hearing him, when the shorter one speaks.

“Pretty stupid to wait for someone to talk to you before taking your headphones out.” His smile was still there but it was clearly masking his annoyance. Your eyebrows raise in surprise at the gall of this dude. You don’t even know him and he thinks he’s owed a conversation?

“Excuse me?”

“What? You’re deaf and a bitch?” The taller one slaps the back of his head immediately and he grumbles, rubbing the soreness. You scoff, shaking your head, fuming. Was it just this dude or were most people here dicks? You didn't want to find out.

You stand, grabbing your bag and pushing past the two, heading towards the building. Your eyes instantly roll into the back of your head when you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. “Hey, I’m sorry about him, really. That’s how he jokes and sometimes it comes across as mean. I’m Stu and he’s Billy.”

Stopping in your tracks you turn to face Stu, the taller one, and take a second to think of a response. Glancing over at Billy, who had finally caught up with you, you can see what resembles regret on his features. “Well, he didn’t come across as mean, he came across as an asshole.”

Stu laughs, nodding. Billy shrugs, giving you that same weak smile he had shown when he approached. You shrug your backpack up higher onto your shoulder, the weight of it starting to get to you, when Billy grabs ahold of it and yanks it off of you. “What the hell? Give me my shit back!”

“Least I can do is to carry it for you. You going to class?” He asks. It’s like he wasn’t taking no for an answer. You give a large sigh and nod, silently thankful for the weight off your shoulders. “Which building?”

“Sycamore.” He nods and begins to walk there, you and Stu trailing behind him. “Is he always so...?” You ask Stu under your breath, trailing off, unsure of a word that could describe the man. He grins and nods. “Annoying? Mean? Stubborn? Yes, yes, and yes.”

Billy groans at the memory, annoyed. He hated when you brought that up. “I told you I was just having an off day! Come on, you’re acting like Stu didn’t offend you too! Do you not remember when you got food with us, like, that night?” Stu punches Billy in the shoulder hard, pissed that he had brought it up.

“Oh yeah! I kinda forgot about how much of a dickhead Stu was,” You say, leaning back against the couch. It really was a shock your relationship with the boys got to where it was now.

Billy and Stu followed you around all day. It seemed they were trying to apologize for Billy’s attitude earlier but, if you were being honest, it was kind of unnerving. After your math class, where they had walked you inside the building and only left when the professor came in, you saw them waiting outside under the tree you had been at.

“Can you guys stop following me?” You had told them the third time you noticed them, this time at the small diner you stopped by after your last class. Stu’s face turned red and he looked behind him as if there was someone else you could be talking about. “Yeah, you two.”

“We wanted to apologize for earlier,” Billy said, motioning for you to join them at their table. You had to choose which one to sit next too and, after your not-so-pleasant meeting with Billy that morning, you sat next to Stu. He sticks his tongue out at Billy who rolls his eyes.

“You already apologized. It’s getting kind of creepy.” You say, placing your elbow on the table. Before the boys could respond, the waitress walks over, placing down their drinks. She flashes you a smile and takes your order, walking off with a sway in her hips, much to the boy's enjoyment.

Stu throws an arm over your shoulder and you shrug him off, ignoring the pained look he gives you. “We just wanted to make sure you really knew we were sorry! Billy here never acts right around a hottie,”

“Stu you fucking idiot.” Billy spits, throwing something at him. Stu laughs, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Billy looks at you and gives you what looks like a real, genuine smile. “Sorry about him; he can’t seem to think with his upstairs brain.”

“Don’t need to when my downstairs one leads me to be sitting next to a smoke show,” Stu says, holding his hand out to you for a high five. Your face flushes and you ignore him, scooting away from him slightly. He was cute, sure, but way too forward. “What? Can’t compliment people anymore?”

“Not when your compliments are preceded by stalking.” You mutter, a part of you hoping he doesn’t hear it. Unfortunately, he does. You see his face change in your peripheral vision and your eyes flick over to Billy. He grins at you, sitting back in the booth, and taking a sip from his drink. He was enjoying this.

“Stalking? You’re fucking with me, right?” His rant is cut short by the return of the waitress who hands you your drink and places the food the boys had ordered onto the table, completely oblivious to your discomfort. She leaves and Stu grabs a fry from his plate, chewing loudly. “We’re not fucking stalking you - trust me, there are better ways to spend our time.”

Billy throws his balled up straw wrapper at Stu, catching his attention, and you let out a soft sigh of relief when Stu’s demeanor changes. He was back to smiling and laughing as if he hadn’t just been attempting to tear you to shreds. “Sorry about that… I’m pretty tired, that’s all.” Stu says, playing with his fingers.

“S’okay, I guess.”

“Why don’t you let us take you on a date? You know, as an apology?” Billy chimes in and Stu grins, nodding. A large part of yourself was screaming no. There was something off about these boys, something dark just under the surface, but you were intrigued. And so you smile.

“Yeah, I guess you two can do that.”

Billy had his arms wrapped around you, laughing at the excuses Stu was stammering out. He was obviously getting frustrated at the memory and you opened your arms to let him join in on the cuddling.

“You know, I really am glad we stuck together. I don’t know what I’d do if it were for our nightly cuddle sessions,” You say, your words muffled by Stu’s sweater. He pulls back and gives you a kiss, Billy swooping in to take one from him as well.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do without our fuck sessions,” Stu hums and you groan, punching him in the shoulder. What a way to ruin the moment. “Wait, let’s not act like you were a saint in all of this! I remember you being pretty awful at one point.”

“What?! No way!”

Billy nods, tickling your sides for a second. “Sure were, babe.”

Two months into the relationship was your breaking point. You really did like, if not love, the boys and yet you were still an outsider. Walking into the shared apartment just for their whispered conversations to stop. Late nights spent in the living room with hushed voices while you tried to sleep. You felt as though you only knew a portion of the two people you had come to like; no, love.

You admit it was petty. It wasn’t the right thing to do in any circumstance, but you did it because you knew it would get a reaction. You had packed a bag and sat in the living room. You wanted them to see you leave. Wanted them to see how much their secrecy had taken. You had been together only a short while and yet you felt so at home with them that the idea of actually leaving, of breaking it off, nearly tore you apart.

The door opens and in enters Billy and Stu, wrapped up in their own conversation. Stu waves at you, carrying on before realizing what he had just seen. “Babe? What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.” Your voice was confident, not a waver in sight, and you knew it was because you weren’t planning on leaving. Some would call it manipulation, sure, but you were backed into a corner. Stu’s mouth drops open and Billy stares at you, his eyes narrowed.

“What? What do you mean you’re leaving? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Stu rushes to sit down next to you on the couch, not wanting to accept the idea that you were leaving them on your own volition. His arms wrap around yours and you shove him off. “Babe?”

You shake your head, standing from your spot on the couch, grabbing ahold of the bag. Billy was still standing near the door, his arms crossed, watching you. “Don’t call me that. The two of you… It’s like I’m not even in this relationship. I’m an outsider with the two people I love and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“Where the hell is this coming from?” Billy questions, grabbing ahold of your arm when you try to walk past him. His voice is thick and you could see the vein in his forehead throbbing. He was angry and you hate to admit it but that’s exactly what you were hoping for.

For the next two hours the three of you talk about your relationship and the future of it. Stu cried, you cried, Billy sniffled a few times, and then you came to an agreement. No more secrets. They told you things that they hadn't told anyone before that they hid behind a vague threat of ‘once you hear this you’re stuck with us,’ and you told them things you had planned on taking to your grave. To say you weren’t shocked at what they told you would be a lie.

Murder wasn’t what you thought they were capable of and especially not murder so gruesome. But, oddly, you felt better about being with them. They trusted you, loved you, enough to let you know their biggest and darkest secret. And you loved it.

Knowing they wouldn’t hesitate to kill for you was a major turn on, which they soon found out.

“Wow, I really was kind of horrible, wasn’t I.” You mutter as Billy recounts the memory with a few interruptions by Stu. You didn’t remember it that way but the more they talked the more you could tell they were being honest. “Well, good thing we stuck together, hm? Would have been pretty bad if we hadn’t.”

“Yeah because we would have killed you,” Billy whispers into your ear and you shiver. He’s telling the truth and that’s what makes the relationship the way it is; they choose to be with you, to keep you around, to love you. “Yeah, we would have given you a call a while ago,” Stu says, his finger making a slicing motion across your neck.

You roll your eyes not because you don’t believe them but because you do. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[onceupon]

London Boy - Part 3: I like girls that dance

summary: It’s your first night out and your first real introduction to Westheath. Rafe is quick to find his way on your radar.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 4.6k

a/n: the way I’m imagining Jack Harlow as I write Liam 😩✋also, im pulling these chapter titles out of my ass - but actually tho, go listen to Girls That Dance by Masego 

Part 1 Part 2

Despite your doubts, you put on the sheer top and the black mini skirt Millie and Olivia had insisted you wear. Your favorite pregame playlist plays as you do your makeup in the mirror. You move as quickly as you can, in desperate need of a shot to calm your nerves before your flat fills with people. You’re also nervous about seeing Rafe after that encounter in the kitchen you just had. 

As you run your fingers through your hair and put on your earrings, all you can see is his stupid (and annoyingly attractive) face, staring down at you with that dumb backwards cap, telling you that you guys should watch Game of Thrones together. Every time your mind starts to think if that means something, you quickly shut down the thought. Of course it doesn’t mean anything. Just because a boy wants to watch a show with you does not automatically mean he wants you or that this was going to turn into some kind of Netflix and chill situation. Or was this gonna be a Netflix and chill situation? I mean it was Rafe Cameron after all, the boy certainly had a reputation. But then again, hadn’t he just showed you that he’s different from what you had expected? Oh god this was all too much to think about right now, you needed a shot. Stat. 

“Y/N!” Olivia shouts, swinging the door to your room open right on cue. “Oh. My. God. You look so hot!” she exclaims. “Here, this is for you,” she extends a shot glass toward you with a devilish grin. 

“Oh god what is it,” you grimace. Shots always seemed like a better idea in theory than in practice. 

“Try it and find out,” she smirks. You sigh and send the liquid to the back of your throat, immediately cringing at the sting of raspberry vodka, Olivia bringing a cup of cranberry juice to your mouth to chase. 

“Don’t worry love, a few more and you won’t even taste it. Now come on,” she laughs, dragging you with her to the kitchen. The rest of your flatmates are already there, Millie bopping along to the music, giggling at whatever Topper is saying, Rafe standing close by sipping his drink. 

“Y/n you hottie!” Millie cheers, looking up as you make your way into the kitchen. You pray to god your cheeks aren’t turning pink. You don’t dare turn your head, but you know Rafe is staring at you. If you looked at him now you’d be crimson for sure. 

“Alright everybodyyy,” Olivia begins, pouring the same raspberry vodka into the five shot glasses she has lined up on the table. You can’t help but laugh at her infectious energy, this girl is nothing if not the life of the party. 

“Cheers to our first night out as flat mates! Wooo!!!” she exclaims, as everyone grabs a shot glass from the table, Rafe instinctively passing you one, hands briefly touching during the exchange and again as you all clink your glasses. You down the contents, unsure if the heat forming in your chest is from the vodka or the feeling of Rafe’s passing touch. 

Pretty soon people start to arrive, Olivia and Millie making sure to introduce everyone. The flat becomes a blur of bodies drinking, dancing, and mingling about, and somehow, despite it all, Rafe Cameron is the person you find yourself standing with. There was something magnetic about him that you couldn’t quite understand, but it kept drawing you near. 

“What are you drinking tonight Cameron,” you nod at the cup in his hand.

“Jack and coke. Of course,” he scoffs with subtle sarcasm, which you instantly pick up on. 

“Not straight whiskey? Wow. That’s not very Figure 8 of you,” you admonish playfully.

“Straight whiskey? L/n who do you think I am?” he twists his face in mock disbelief. “But I’m game to do a shot if you are,” he adds.

“Hmm that does-“ you begin, but you’re quickly cutoff. 

“Y/n, babe, if I had known you’d be here I would’ve came sooner,” Liam greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a cheeky smile. 

“Now how on earth do you two know each other,” Millie asks, walking in line with the boy.

“Umm,” you chuckle nervously. You could not have possibly felt more awkward at the conversation unfolding in front of you, Rafe standing by as witness to it all. “He’s that boy I went to the bar with the other night,” you explain sheepishly.

“That was Liam!? Chrissake. Well I apologize on his behalf for anything he said or did.”

“Hey I’ll have you know I’m a proper gentleman!” he defends, throwing you a wink as Millie rolls her eyes. Just at that moment, another group of people walk in through the door, conveniently coming to Rafe’s rescue.

“Rafe!” a girl calls and he clears his throat excusing himself, Millie following suit to greet the latest batch of guests. You watch as he leans in for a hug with the girl who’s just called his name. She’s twirling her hair and batting her eyes, confident, flirty, gorgeous - just his type. A sick feeling pools in your stomach, you don’t even realize you’re staring. 

“Lily Colts, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Liam informs you as he takes the now empty spot next to you.

“Oh, um no, I was just uh-“

“It’s okay Y/n, I get it. So flatmate huh” he laughs, unbothered.

“No no it’s not like that at all I uh-”

“Alright. Y/n,” he says, jumping up to sit on the counter behind him, cracking open the can in his hand. “You know I think you’re hot and you know I like messing with you-”

“Actually I know neither of those things,” you reply indignantly. 

“Yes you do, you’re not dim,” he bulldozes right on, “I can read people pretty well, and there was a vibe there.”

“A vibe?”

“Yeah. Between you and what’s-his-face. You should’ve seen the way he tensed up when I came up to you,” he snickers in amusement.

“Shut up. His name is Rafe, by the way, and there was no ‘vibe.’ Also why are you even telling me this?” you ask, growing frustrated with the cocky brunette.

“Y/n please,” he scoffs. “I told you I can read people, so let me read you. You’re out here in London right, far away from home, keen for a fresh start. You’ve never been one for meaningless flings, but fuck it, if everyone else can do it, why not you? Or so you try to convince yourself, but you know that’s not you. See, you crave that emotional connection, and when you find even a hint of it, you’re a goner. Which is why you’d never actually hook up with me and it’s why you’re staring at that boy from home even though you swear you don’t care, but you do - you feel something there.”

You’re dumbfounded by his ability to know things about you that even you yourself can’t recognize. “I liked it better when you were just flirting with me,” you grumble.  

“No worries darling, I’ll definitely still do that. I’ll even dance on you in the club if you ask nicely, might make pretty boy over there jealous,” he motions with his eyes toward Rafe, at which you give his shoulder a shove.

“You’re an idiot you know, Millie was right on the money with that,” you quip, as the two of you head over to her, Liv, and the boys.

“Please, Millie wishes she could be right on something else,” he says as you shoot him a glare, trying your best to suppress a laugh. Liam was starting to become a pain in your ass, too smart for his own good, but at least he was a funny one.

—

Your first night clubbing was going great. The place was packed, the music was good, and you were having a blast dancing with Liv, Millie, and their friends. You couldn’t help looking around the club though, eyes scanning for Rafe in the crowd. He’d been hanging out all night with Topper and some of the guys from their new soccer team. You longed to be near him somehow, to interact with him again. All your conversations with him earlier today had left you with an excited buzz - you didn’t know what it was about this version of Rafe Cameron in London, but you were actually enjoying his company.

You try to push him out of your mind and just enjoy the moment. It’s not like there was anything between you and Rafe, you had just barely began to form a semblance of a potential friendship today, let’s not get carried away. Besides, you live with the boy, accidentally running into him wasn’t going to be much of a challenge. 

“Anyone want anything from the bar?” you shout over the music to your friends.

“Vodka soda with lime please!” Olivia shouts back and you nod, turning to make your way to the counter a few feet away. You place your order and mindlessly tap your fingers on the bar as a figure appears beside you.

“Hey, Y/n right? Flatmates with Olivia, Mills, and the boys?” the girl asks, and you turn, now face to face with Lily. 

“Uh yeah, hey,” you feign a smile back. 

“I’m Lily, nice to meet you,” she smiles genuinely. “I’m friends with all the Westheath bozos you’ve probably been meeting tonight,” she laughs, “Callum and Henry over there are my best mates. They’re on the football team with Rafe and Topper, we were showing them around earlier. My god you guys have been hoarding some cute ones over there in America.”

You chuckle, “glad that Kildare’s presence can at least be of some benefit.” 

“So, girl to girl here, what can you tell me about Rafe Cameron? He’s such a hottie isn’t he? Would love to get a taste of that,” she smirks, licking her lips.

“Umm I don’t really have much to tell,” you say, unsure of how to navigate this conversation. You could tell her what you thought you knew of Outer Banks Rafe - he’s a rich, party-boy player. But after today, that no longer felt right. You didn’t want to say or presume anything about him at all actually, it felt wrong to talk about him like that. God, what the hell was wrong with you? You spend a few hours with the boy and you already have a soft spot for him? You needed to get a grip. “Our families know each other but we don’t really hang out at home. He’s uh- he’s cool though,” you decide as a sufficient response.

“Any girl friend?” she asks, sliding cash over to the bartender as she orders a shot.

“Rafe’s not really the ‘girlfriend-type’,” you answer, bartender sliding you the drinks you ordered and Lily her’s. 

“Well then cheers to that,” she grins, clinking her shot glass to your drink before she downs it, waving a quick goodbye. You watch as she makes her way back to Rafe and their group, adorning a flirty smile. You feel sick to your stomach. You wanted to hate her, you did. But you couldn’t. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was just confident, outgoing, and not afraid to go after what she wanted. There was nothing for you to be angry about, who was stopping you from doing the same?

 But in the back of your mind you decided you could never go after Rafe like that. He would never be interested in you in that way, you were sure of it. You had a hard time believing your friends when they hyped you up, so you definitely weren’t going to believe for a single second that a boy you thought was cool could possibly look at you in the same way. Besides, the mere idea of being rejected by Rafe Cameron, and then having to continue living with him and eventually go back to the Outer Banks for everyone to find out you had been rejected by the kook prince, was so mortifying that the very thought made you want to crawl into a hole. So you promise yourself, right then and there, that you won’t let yourself get hurt like that. You could hang out with Rafe, get to know him, become friends even, but under no circumstances could you be caught wearing your heart on your sleeve. You couldn’t disarm yourself like that and give him the upper hand. You needed to look out for yourself first and foremost, preserving the little bit of control you still had over your life. 

You walk back over to your friends, slipping Liv her drink as her and Jake dance together. Your new friends are all tipsy and in a world of their own, getting lost in the music and their movements.

“Dance with me,” you turn to Liam who’s right beside you.

“I said if you ask nicely,” he admonishes sarcastically, to which you roll your eyes.

“I’m not gonna beg Liam. You wanna dance or not?”

“Sheesh, Lily Colts got your panties in a twist like that?”

“Not. At. All.” You confidently stare into his eyes, sipping your drink. It’s no use, Liam knows you all too well by now, and you curse yourself for the way in which this boy is able to see right through all the walls you put up. You may think these walls are made of brick, but to Liam they’re glass.

He just laughs at you, shaking his head in amusement. He grabs your free hand and pulls you closer to him, your bodies now pressed together. He takes your hand and rests it on the back of his neck, his finding their way to your hips. He plants his leg in between yours and soon you guys are lost in the rhythm. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying every second. He spins you around and you lightly grind your ass against him.

“Damn Y/n, I didn’t know you move like that,” he jokes, as you face forward again. He leans in, his hand on the small of your back, and you feel his breath right against your ear, “he’s looking by the way.” Your breath hitches, but you know better than to turn around. Liam is already one step ahead of you, instinctively twirling you again so you can quickly catch a glimpse of Rafe’s eyes on yours without it being obvious. “Told you he’d be jealous,” he smirks down at you triumphantly.

“Shut up,” you reply, the slightest smile tugging at your lips as your sweaty bodies continue to move to the music.

—-

“Aw flatmate bonding you guysss,” Olivia gushes, as you all sit together at a booth. She had forced you all out of your beds this morning to get breakfast together. Despite being hungover and groggy, you all reluctantly agreed. “Mimosas anyone?” she jokes.

“If I so much as smell any alcohol I think I’ll vomit,” Topper groans.

“Aw, what’s the matter, can’t handle your liquor Tops?” Millie asks, quirking her head to the side.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. Could ask you the same question. My room is right next to the bathroom, don’t think I didn’t hear your retching last night,” he snaps back, to which Millie turns bright red and soon you’re all hunched over in laughter.

“I think a mimosa would make me yak right now too, to be fair. Coffees all around!” Olivia asserts.

You’re seated across from Rafe as you both scan your menus, your eyes immediately fixing in on the pancakes. The waiter comes by to take all your orders and you can’t help but blush a little when Rafe orders pancakes and you have to follow with a “same for me.” Such a silly, meaningless thing, I mean everyone likes pancakes. But being the only one to have the same exact order as Rafe leaves you feeling embarrassed, for no good reason all the same. You all begin to scarf down your food as soon as it arrives, thankful to have something to soak up the alcohol in your stomachs, as you share stories and laugh about last night’s drunken antics. 

“So how is it that we’re all flatmates and yet I only have Topper’s contact. Come on, add ‘em in,” Rafe says, sliding his unlocked phone to the middle of the table.

“Wait I want snapchats too. Oooh! And instagram!” Olivia pipes, whipping out her phone as well.

“I expect no booty calls Cameron. This is strictly business,” Millie jokes, typing in her and Olivia’s numbers before passing his phone to you. 

“Am I allowed a booty call?” Topper smirks, extending his phone as well.

“I wouldn’t push your luck Thornton,” she smirks back and he pouts in response. You finish typing your name and number into Rafe’s phone and hand it back to him, skin briefly making contact once again. Even though you had known Rafe all your life, somehow you two never had a reason to exchange numbers, only following each other on Instagram which he never posted on anyways.

“Alright everyone, pull up your snapchat codes, I wanna make a group,” Olivia says and everyone obliges, arms crossing every which way as you all add each other. “What should we name our group chat? Ooo can we do a ship name of our schools - like Kilheath or Westare?” 

“I like Kilheath,” Topper chimes in.

“Yeah I bet you do you psychopath. Sounds like the name of a bad horror movie,” Rafe laughs.

“Oooo there’s five of us, we could be the Spice Girls,” Millie beams.

“No.” Topper immediately shuts her down. 

“What about ‘American Boys and Spice Girls.’ You know, like the Kanye West song,” you add.

“Ehh, we’re getting closer, but not quite there,” Rafe teases you and you playfully kick him under the table. “I’m hearing a lot of opinions and not a lot of contributions,” you cross your arms and raise your brows.

“Hey hey hey, I’m a critic, not a chef L/n,” he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Ooo I got it! We can call it the ‘Royal fam,’ like the royal family,” Olivia suggests, finally getting approval from the whole group. Breakfast is soon over and you all return to your rooms, eager to nap away the remainder of your hangovers. You lay in your bed and stare at the newly formed snapchat group on your phone. Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 appears on top and you scroll down, looking at Rafe’s username and bitmoji on your screen. You laugh at the fact that even his bitmoji wears a backwards cap. It was weird, having him in your phone like this. You had known this boy your whole life, but you two had always operated in separate spheres. And here he was, in your Snapchat, a glimpse into the life of Rafe, of which you only ever got a birds eye view of back home. It almost felt like you were trespassing somewhere you didn’t belong, having access to him like this. You sigh and lock your phone. Rafe Cameron really isn’t all that bad.

—

The next few days fly by fast as you become acclimated to Westheath. You and the rest of the Kildare kids attend an orientation with Westheath’s exchange advisor, spending the whole time with your little trio: you, Rafe, and Topper. When you had first arrived abroad, you were deadset on forging your own path in London and steering clear of everyone else from OBX. But hanging out with Rafe and Topper made you all but forget. It was fun and easy hanging out with them, in fact, counterintuitively, they were helping you forget all about the Outer Banks, just as you had hoped to do. Your conversations centered around your interests, your new lives, on random jokes and made up bits. It was almost as if there was a mutual unspoken agreement between you, them also trying to escape and forget their lives in OBX.

Pretty soon classes began, and you were learning a new schedule and adapting to British schooling. Your evenings were spent singing and dancing in the kitchen as you, Liv, and Millie simultaneously cooked your dinners, getting pints at the pub around the corner with your Westheath friends, and playing card games at the kitchen table with Rafe and Topper, the smack talk between you three flowing strong. There’d be short moments where you’d find yourself alone with Rafe - he’d explain to you whatever Premier League team was playing that day, you’d show him how the coffee machine works, and the occasional passing comments of “so when are we finally starting Game of Thrones, Cameron?” “I’m ready whenever you are, L/n.”

—

It was a Wednesday night, and you were curled up in your fluffy gray blanket watching Gilmore Girls in bed. You found the show comforting and familiar, the small town of Stars Hallow reminding you of what you wished your life in the Outer Banks could be like. Instead it was more like the cold and pretentious atmosphere of Chilton and the older Gilmores’ Hartford life. Your phone buzzes, and you pick it up lazily to check, suddenly freezing at the notification on your screen.

Snapchat: Rafe Cameron

You had opened a few snapchats from the boy over the past few days, but they were always random ones he would send to the group chat. This one was just for you. You gulp and put your phone down, not wanting to open it too fast. A few minutes go by and you realize you haven’t paid an ounce of attention to the show on your screen, even though you’re staring right at it. Fuck it. You open your phone and tap on the unread snap.

When are we watching Game of Thrones L/n the snapchat says, a picture of his laptop on his bed and the HBO Max home page open, the series featured in the corner of the screen.

You snap back a picture of your blanket and the laptop playing Gilmore Girls in front of you: ready whenever you are Cameron.

Almost immediately you get a response back.

Rafe Cameron: wait are you home rn? His message is accompanied by a random picture of his room, a view you let your eyes linger on until the message expires. Another peak into Rafe Cameron’s world.

Y/n: Yep! You send a blurry selfie of you wrapped in your blanket.

Rafe Cameron: be over in 5

You leave that last message on open and your heart starts to race. Just breathe Y/n, breathe, you keep telling yourself. It doesn’t have to be a big deal if you don’t make it out to be. It’s just a show. Just a show. And besides, you guys are friends now, right? You sit up in your bed and grab your pillow, shifting over to sit horizontally on your mattress. That seems more casual to you, more ‘just a couple friends watching a show together at a comfortable distance’ and less ‘sitting right on top of each other Netflix and chill’. You gulp down some water to ease your dry throat when you hear a gentle knock.

“Come in!” you call out, and now Rafe Cameron is in your room, eyes absorbing all the details that are so you. The posters on one wall, film camera photos on another. The string lights which wrap around your room and give it a warm glow. The plants, the subtle scent of vanilla. The bag you always carried with you, hanging off the side of your chair. He almost felt like he was intruding, like he was getting an intimate glimpse of something that was for your eyes only. 

“Whats up,” he says, holding his laptop and closing the door behind him. 

“Ready to finally start the show,” you laugh, “it’s about damn time.”

“Hey, I’ve been ready, it’s you who’s been taking your sweet time.”

“Is that so?” you ask sarcastically and a smile forms on his face.

“What are you doing over there? Who sits like that on their bed?” he asks, now coming over and taking a seat on your mattress facing vertically, propping your other pillow behind his back. “Can’t even stretch out your legs or anything,” he continues, patting the spot on the bed next to him, signaling for you to come over.

“I don’t know, I think it’s comfy,” you lie as you crawl over to him, your first line of defense already shot down. 

“Weirdo,” he chuckles to which you nudge him in the side with your elbow. “If Topper’s wrong about this I’m gonna give him so much shit,” he says.

“Topper does have a lot of questionable opinions,” you laugh, “but I have a good feeling about this one.

—

One episode turned into two turned into three, you and Rafe instantly hooked. The nerves you had felt earlier at sitting so close next to this boy in your bed had all but dissipated, you quickly acclimating to the space he took up next to you. Even though by now all your previous misconceptions about Rafe had disappeared, replaced with the boy you had come to know over the past week, there was a small part of you that was still waiting to see if he’d try to pull something on you, like the Rafe you imagined back home surely would. Of course he didn’t, watching and discussing the show with you, making you feel as comfortable as if you two had been friends for years. You almost felt bad for having had doubted him in the first place.

When the third episode ended and you two got into a long post-episode discussion, you hardly noticed when the conversation began to digress. You both started to sink lower and lower down into your pillows, until you were both laying on your backs, staring at the ceiling and lost in exchanges of words and thoughts. The conversation was different this time, more candid and open, as if the shadow of the night was inviting you to divulge thoughts you wouldn’t have shared in the day. He spoke of his strained relationship with his father and you shared the silly drama that had caused a riff between you and your former friends back home. He showed you pictures of his dog and you showed him the video you had been working on all summer long in OBX, not having anyone to hang out with before you left for London. He talked about how he felt so disconnected from almost everyone on that island, and you nodded, understanding all too well. The conversation continued to ebb and flow, the occasional funny video or meme pulling you two into fits of laughter before seamlessly delving into another vulnerable train of thought. You both had your Spotify accounts open now, taking turns sharing your favorite songs. You put on a playlist you had made over the summer, full of songs that made you feel at peace. 

“This puts you at ease huh,” he says.

You turn your head to look at him, “how could you tell?”

“I don’t know. I guess just the way your whole body relaxed the second you pressed play,” he replies.

“Yeah,” you say turning your head back toward the ceiling. “I know it sounds cheesy, but I feel like these songs are speaking to my soul or something,” you whisper.

“Yeah I get that… I have those too,” he whispers back. Neither of you realize it’s already 5 am and neither of you notice as your eyes both get heavy and sleep washes over you, playlist in the background like a lullaby. And at some point during your deep sleep, Rafe’s arm has found itself unconsciously wrapped around you.

---

Part 4

a/n: lemme know what you think!(:

[watchmegetobsessed]

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 3)

i did not expect this to turn into more than just a oneshot, but here i am, posting a part 3?? and there’s more to come??? lmao, im a mess, having a million wips at a time, whatever. enjoy this DIRTY piece in the world of Harry and Actress!Y/N hehe!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 3k

warning: NSFW content (we are taking a dirty turn in this part babes)

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

“But are you really sure you’re fine?” Florence asks for the millionth time over the phone. “You know, I could come over anytime, have a few drinks and forget about the idiots who decided you don’t deserve that Emmy.”

“I’m very sure,” you chuckle, sinking further down on your couch, kicking your heels off your feet. “It’s not a big deal.” “Oh it is, but you are trying to act all tough, though I know it bothers you.”

“I didn’t say it doesn’t bother me, but there’s nothing I can do about it,” you tell her truthfully.

“You know, sometimes I forget that you are this wise ass bitch, not some petty loser that I usually am.”

You snort at her words laughing loudly. Florence is by far one of the funniest people you know, she never fails to make you laugh, no matter what’s the situation.

“It’s sad that I didn’t win, but I’m fine. Really. Maybe next time it will be me,” you say, genuinely hoping this wasn’t your first nomination.

“Okay, I’ll stop bugging you, but call me if you change your mind and want company.”

“Thank you, Flo. Talk to you later.”

Once you end the call you let a long, heavy breath out that feels like you’ve been keeping in all night. Walking into your closet you stop in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, taking a look at yourself, still wearing the burgundy pant suit you wore for the award show. You were the only woman in pants all evening and you felt more powerful than ever. You’ve always loved to make a statement with your fashion choices and tonight you feel like you definitely succeeded in getting the message through: you are a bad bitch.

Stripping out of the outfit you hang it carefully before putting on some sweats and an oversized vintage t-shirt, feeling so much more comfortable already. Your hair is still in loose waves and you kind of like the texture, so you just leave it like that, moving into your bedroom to check up on some emails.

Cozied up under your duvet, laptop resting on your thighs, you start replying to some emails, updating your schedule for the next week. You almost don’t notice the text you get, barely catching the lit up screen from the corner of your eyes. Grabbing the device from the night stand you smile down at the series of messages from Harry.

“Bunch of idiots,” the first one reads.

“I’m suing them. All of them.”

“You looked fucking unreal by the way. Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Biting down on your bottom lip you read the last one over and over again. It’s been weeks since your number landed in Harry’s phone and you’ve been texting nonstop since then. Whenever you pulled your phone out to check if someone had tried to reach you, there was always a text rom him waiting for you, making you smile most of the time.

“Thanks Xx,” you reply shortly, not sure how to react to his heated words of calling the whole Television Academy a bunch of idiots, though it surely warmed your heart.

“Enjoying the after party?” his next text comes fast.

“Nope, I’m home already. Didn’t feel like partying.”

“What?! You not winning is not an excuse to skip celebrating. You still got nominated!”

“Already celebrated that, so I’m out of occasions.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. Text me your address, I’m going over with wine and takeout.”

His bluntness in flirting and shooting his shot has been amusing to you since the moment he sat next to you on The Ellen Show. Harry Styles doesn’t shy away to try and show his attraction, or at least not towards you.

You hesitate a little, not sure if you want him here, but something deep down in your guts is telling you that you definitely want him to come over, some dirty thoughts already popping into your mind, but you are quick to get rid of them.

You send him your address and he tells you he’ll be over in twenty. You use that time to clean up a little around your apartment. You left in kind of a rush earlier, being a little late with your glam team, so you didn’t bother to leave the place in a decent state. It doesn’t take long though to clean up the mess and checking the time you see that you still have a little time until Harry arrives. As you walk past one of the mirrors in your hallway, you take a look at yourself, debating whether you should change or stay in your comfy homey outfit. At last you drop the idea to put on a different outfit, not wanting to look desperate when Harry arrives.

Not long later you get a notification from downstairs that a so called Mr. Styles has entered the building and is heading up to your floor. Running a hand through your hair you walk over to the front door and opening it you stand there, waiting for the elevator to arrive. When the familiar ding hits your ear you notice how your heart skips a beat upon seeing him walk out.

“Hi,” you smile at him holding the door open for him. He looks amazing, as always, wearing a pair of brown high-waisted pants with a loose white shirt tugged into it, a teal denim jacket topping the outfit. He looks comfortable, but still well put together, something you have always admired in his style.

“Hello, Love,” he smiles back at you and pulls you in for a short, one armed hug before walking fully inside. “Didn’t know what stuff you fancy, so I got a bunch,” he admits with a chuckle, holding up two plastic bags completely stuffed.

“You really shouldn’t have,” you shake your head at him smiling as you lock the front door and lead him into your open concept kitchen.

“But I should have,” he argues, setting the bags down to the counter, packing out everything he brought.

Three bottles of wine, all of them different kinds, snacks, both sweet and salty, topped with an insane amount of Chinese takeout that could feed a whole family, not just two people. You put the wines into the fridge though you know they won’t get chilly enough by the time you open it. Turning to Harry you smile at him shyly, only just now realizing that he is in your home for the first time.

“Want a tour?” you ask, pulling your shoulders up to your ears.

“Would love that,” he smirks and lets you lead the way.

The modern apartment in Manhattan has been your home for a little over a year now. One of the first things you invested into once you started earning like an A-list celebrity. It’s spacious, you did the interior over once you bought it, formed it a little more to your taste. You walk Harry through the living room, the three bedrooms from which one is yours, the others function as a guest room whenever a family member of one of your friends needs a place to stay. There are three bathrooms in total, a study room that’s always a mess, your desk filled with scripts and books most of the time, but Harry tells you it suits your vibe.

“And this here is my wardrobe,” you end the tour, flicking the lights on in the walk in closet, probably your favorite part of the place. It’s bigger than your bedroom, but it’s exactly what you and your passion for fashion needs.

Harry curiously walks inside, his eyes immediately stopping on the burgundy pant suit you wore earlier that night.

“This, Darling, was an excellent choice,” he smirks over at you, his fingers dancing over the soft fabric of the pants.

“Felt amazing in it,” you nod smiling.

“I bet you did,” he chuckles softly.

The two of you head back to the kitchen and sit at the kitchen island, roaming through all the food Harry has brought. A short silence comes over the room that’s broken by Harry first.

“So how are you really feeling about tonight?”

“I’m fine,” you shrug, but then feel his hand on your knee that’s closer to him and your eyes flicker over to him, his gaze burning down on you intently.

“No, I’m asking fo’ real. You don’t have to mask your disappointment.”

Licking your lips you look back at your plate filled with dumplings and you start to just poke them around with the chopsticks in your hand.

“Of course I’m disappointed. Who wouldn’t want to win? But there’s not much I can do about it, right?”

“Still, you shouldn’t push it all down.”

“I’m not the type to rage very publicly, if you haven’t realized that,” you chuckle, diverting your eyes back at him, catching a soft smile on his lips.

“That I know of. Miss No Beef,” he teases you, even though you could pretty much say the same thing about him. “I was properly screaming at the screen when they said someone else’s name over yours.”

“Yeah?” you chuckle.

“Mhm. I was rooting for you big time.”

“Well,” you sigh turning back to your plate. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Nah-ah, none of that crap, Y/N,” he protests right away, dropping his chopsticks to his plate as he slides off his stool, stepping closer to you, one hand lying flat on the counter, while the other one finds the underside of your stool and he easily turns you so you are facing him, your knees involuntarily parting so he could stand between them. “I’m not letting you think of any less of yourself because of some stupid award.”

“The Emmys are not stupid,” you correct him, but it seems like he doesn’t even hear you, staring down at you with a smug grin, his hand moving from the stool to your waist.

“Mhm, they are. They made the most talented and beautiful woman think she is not the best of all.”

You can’t push down the smile that tugs on your lips as you watch him slowly lean closer. Heart beating faster, you let him do whatever he has on his mind, not finding the will to push him away. Not that you want to do that, you’d be stupid to say no to this man.

“Who’s this woman we are talking about?” you breathe out with a teasing smile. Harry smirks back at you, his hand squeezing your waist gently as his other hand moves up to the base of your neck, his thumb running along your jawline.

“The woman I’ve been fantasizing about lately.”

A desperate whimper tries to escape your lips, but you bite it back in time, feeling so lost how much effect he has on you with just a simple sentence.

“What are these fantasies about?” you find yourself asking as he leans closer, his nose brushing against yours.

You’re aching for his lips, to feel him touch you everywhere. You want to come undone under his hands and the breaking point where you won’t be able to mask up your desperate feelings is threateningly close.

“I’ve been thinking about making her feel real good. Watch her fall apart under my touch,” he murmurs lowly and this time, you can’t hold that moan back. Your lips brush against his, but he pulls back smirking, not kissing you.

“Fuck,” you breathe out when you feel his hand move from your waist to your stomach, cheekily teasing you as he is drawing circles around your belly button over the soft fabric of your shirt.

“Can I touch you, Y/N? I really want to make you feel appreciated and good. Will you let me do that?”

Not able to find your voice you whimper out something that’s close to being a yes, but it’s not enough for him and while you are losing touch with what’s really going on, Harry is very much enjoying seeing you like this, all for himself.

“Use your words, Love. I wanna hear you say it.”

“Yes!” you choke out and luckily, he doesn’t waste any more time.

You feel his lips connect with your neck as both his hands work on the waistband of your sweats, pushing them further down a little before his right hand taps on the top of your lacy underwear, the one you wore under your suit tonight, the one Harry definitely thought about when he first saw you through his screen.

You gasp when his hand slides into your underwear, fingers finding your sensitive bud of nerves, pressing down on them softly. You desperately turn your face, eager to meet his lips, but he pulls back for your dismay.

“Not now, Love,” he tells you and though the words sting a little, you don’t have much time to dwell on them when you feel his fingers slide back and forth between your soaking wet folds. “So wet for me, aren’t you?” he smirks while you’re trying to breath evenly, though it’s quite the challenge.

His lips return to your neck and your hands fly up to grab onto the back of his neck and shoulders, his fingers teasing you around your hole, not entering just yet. You start buckling your hips, desperate to get him take the next step and he is surely enjoying the show you are putting on for him.

“Ready to feel good?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, hands grabbing onto his hair roughly and a loud moan escapes your lips when he pushes two of his fingers inside you.

“Fuck, this feels so nice,” he groans, lips nipping on the soft skin under your ear. He is quick to take up on a pace, moving his digits in and out, his thumb circling on your clit, adding that extra magic most men always forget about. But not Harry, he is eager to please you the best he can and if you weren’t sitting, you’d be on your knees for him by now.

“Yeah, tug on my hair, Darling,” he growls, his voice sending chills down your spine as you tighten your grip in his hair just as he asked, while you feel your climax building up.

He picks up his pace, curling his fingers inside you every time he thrusts them in, making you almost see stars. Your legs fly around his waist, ankles crossing above his bum as you bring him closer, and a whimpered groan bursts out of him, probably because his erection just got squeezed against his hand by your action, his nonstop moving hand now stuck between your heated core and his throbbing member. When his head pulls back you quickly look at him, about to ask if he is alright, but he just presses a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth as his unsaid answer that he is perfectly fine.

His forehead comes to rest against yours as he adds a third finger, making you moan his name in ecstasy. Your mind is starting to completely shut down, the sensation of utter pleasure taking over your whole body as you can feel your orgasm just a few thrusts away.

“C’mon, Love. Let it go for me,” he mumbles, his free hand sliding to your back so he keeps you flushed against him, your heaving chest touching his upper body with each drawn breath.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you pant, eyes screwed shut, tipping over the edge of your climax. “Please don’t stop!” you beg whining.

“Never, Darling.”

And he keeps his words. He keeps going and going until your walls close up around his slick fingers and your thighs tremble around his waist. You tug on his hair once again, pulling his head back just enough so your eyes meet right when you come undone. His fingers keep moving a little longer, bringing you down from your high before the last wave of your orgasm dies down and you are brought back to reality.

When his fingers slide out of you, the feeling of emptiness makes you breathe out in dismay and it brings a smile to his lips as he licks his fingers clean and you swear that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, watch him taste your pleasure on his own fingers.

Glancing down you see the very visible bulge in his pants and you reach down to return the favor you just had the pleasure to get, but his hands wrap around your wrists stopping you, your eyes snapping up to meet his.

“Not now, Love. This was all about you. I’ll be fine.”

“But—“ “No,” he cuts you off shaking his head gently. “Seeing you like this was more than enough for me.”

Biting down on your bottom lip you feel yourself blushing at his words, the whole situation that just went down dawning on you just now. Harry really did just finger you on one of your kitchen stools and it was one hell of an experience for sure.

When your gaze wanders over to his lips you remember how he refused to kiss you and now you actually have the chance to pay more attention to this tiny detail.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” you ask him, legs falling from his waist as he goes to sit back on his stool. He glances at you, a soft smile on the lips that never touched yours.

“I wasn’t planning to do this, but I just couldn’t stop myself. However, I’m still trying to be a gentleman, so I won’t kiss you until I’ve taken you out on a proper date.”

“I can’t believe you,” you chuckle shaking your head at the absurdity of what he just said. “So you are fine fingering me shamelessly, but you won’t kiss me without a date?” you ask, rephrasing his words.

“That’s right,” he nods, his smile growing into a smirk now. Shaking your head you turn back to your probably cold plate of food, chuckling to yourself.

“Harry Styles, you are… something else.”

PREVIOUS PART

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[tooruluv]

Hajime Iwaizumi x F!Reader

❝ enemies, as well as lovers, come to resemble each other over a period of time ❞

description: your feud with hajime iwaizumi only escalated throughout your years at hogwarts; whether it was on the quidditch field or who would be the first to sit down in class, there always seemed to be some sort of raging competition between you two.  

genre: hogwarts!au, angst, enemies to lovers, slow burn, rivals, gryffindor quidditch keeper iwaizumi, slytherin quidditch captain f!reader

word count: 5.5k

warnings/notes: swearing, lots of angst, small depictions of violence, mentions of alcohol and drinking, not proof read im so sorry although i am an avid believer than both iwa and oikawa would be slytherins, i wanted to play with the idea of them being gryffindors, which actually makes sense when you think hard about it hfklhfd anyway! please enjoy!

part of a hogwarts collab !  collab masterlist posted here ! tysm to the wonderful @rintsuru​ for hosting <3

my general masterlist

You could feel his presence from across the dining hall, immediately dowsing you in a raging hatred that you only reserved for him. His arrogance mocked you as he basically danced into the Great Hall bathed in compliments.

The Gryffindor quidditch team won against Ravenclaw the night before. You didn’t know why he had all of the glory... he wasn’t even the captain. Being keeper had its perks, you guessed.

You rolled your eyes and focused your attention to your food. You tried not to stab the plate as you heard the varying praises to the boy in red and gold. “Congrats, Iwa!” and “That last block was brilliant!” nearly made you want to choke.

Hajime Iwaizumi was simply not someone who deserved such compliments. He was vile, annoying, and did everything in his limited power to poke and prod at every single one of your nerves. You used to ignore your burning hatred that you harbored for him; but late in your second year, you had let it all out.

And, as it turned out, he wasn’t quite fond of you either.

It had been years since then, yet the feelings remained the same. It was just the start of your sixth year and you already wanted to gouge his eyes out with the pointy end of your fork.

Tooru Oikawa caught your gaze and sent you a cheeky smile. You wished that you could hate the captain as much as his keeper, but you only let your hatred for him simmer for so long. He was quite fun when he wasn’t next to the little shit.

“Just wait for next week when you verse Slytherin! You’re sure to win!” a small Gryffindor told them. 

“I wouldn’t be too sure.” You said, perhaps a bit too loudly. You lacked volume control, after all.

“What was that, Slytherin?” Iwaizumi turned to you. His gaze was fire on your skin and you wanted nothing but to catch him aflame as well. 

“Your arrogance and cockiness proceeds even you.” You said, voice monotone and venomous against the recent silence at your speech. “I wouldn’t be too sure of your success.”

“Say that again after the match.” Iwaizumi turned back to accept another compliment and find a place to sit at his house’s table.

You wondered if you would get expelled if an apple happened to launch out of your hands and land on the back of his head.

Late in your second year, you had enough of Hajime Iwaizumi.

The both of you were in a silent competition the minute you were introduced to each other in your first year. It was never anything serious, just two eleven year olds who liked to be at the top.

It wasn’t until your second year that you started to feel genuine distaste for him. You had buried the thought of “hate” for a long time, masking it to be annoyance and opposition. 

The hatred was much deeper than a surface burn.

It was during charms class that you finally snapped. 

It was not more than the simple mutter of his breath. It was a mispronunciation of the spell and the tap of his wand against the table that made you lose your control. 

“Hajime! Can you please, for the love of Merlin, shut the fuck up!” The harsh language created a tense silence through the classroom. No twelve year old had the balls to curse that hard in front of that many people, including a professor. “If you are going to be an idiot, at least try to hide it.”

Hajime Iwaizumi turned in his seat to face you, irritation and vexation easily overpowering his shock. 

“Funny that you’re saying that.” He said.

“You’re so ridiculous.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh, I’m Hajime Iwaizumi and I am a perfect student that can’t even properly pronounce a simple spell! But that doesn’t matter because guess who’s a keeper for the quidditch team when I’m only a second year!! I am perfect!! Literally no one likes you.”

“Trust me, no one likes you either.”

No one meaning, and translating to, I don’t.

Just to show off, you easily cast the charm that he had failed. Charms was your strong subject, so you only needed to say the spell and flick your wand before turning your attention back to him.

He was nearly smoking from his ears, he was both embarrassed and livid.

You waved to Kei Tsukishima as you caught his gaze from the side of the hall. He was a fellow Slytherin and a good friend, though neither of you would admit that to each other.

He nodded as his greeting. He shoved his book back into his bag as you made your way to his side.

“Hey, Tsukki.” You said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until practice tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I’m waiting for Yamaguchi.” He turned his body to lean against the wall. “We’re going to Hogsmeade today.”

“No invitation?”

He sighed. “Would you like to join us, Captain?”

“I was joking, no need to sound so enthusiastic.” You chuckled. As you started to speak again, Tadashi Yamaguchi left the classroom the two of you stood outside of. He smiled at you, his green and white reflecting off of his eyes.

“Captain!” Yamaguchi greeted, putting an arm around your shoulder. “Are you coming to Hogsmeade with us?”

“Be careful, the idiots are coming.” Tsukishima interrupted and warned, motioning over your shoulder.

You turned around to find Oikawa and Iwaizumi walking next to each other, laughing about something only the two of them knew. You had to hold back from making a comment.

“Yoohoo!” Tooru Oikawa caught your eye. You sighed and turned back to your fellow Slytherins, sharing a look. 

“Hello, Tooru.” You felt him beside you before you looked. 

You purposely didn’t look at Iwaizumi. 

“We’re celebrating our win tonight, you guys should join!” Oikawa invited. You heard Iwaizumi’s exhale of frustration, but you only rolled your eyes in an attempt to ignore his presence. 

“You want a group of Slytherins hanging out with you, celebrating your win, when we go against you in less than a week?” Tsukishima spoke up. He moved off of the wall. “No thanks. Come, Yamaguchi. Let’s go.”

Yamaguchi waved goodbye and followed his best friend down the hall. You pivoted to fully face the two Gryffindors.

“I’ll come.” You said, mainly out of spite.

Tooru Oikawa was naturally outgoing. He was the captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, a flirt, and all together a pretty chill person. You didn’t mind calling him a friend, despite the vast differences between you two.

One vast difference being his best friend.

Which is why you found yourself next to him as soon as you entered the Gryffindor party. The cascades of burgundy and gold created a deep atmosphere in the hidden room, lights dancing along the dark walls and the smell of various alcohols filled the air. It was a Gryffindor party, that much was true.

You were one of the very few Slytherins that occupied the room. Your eyes caught sight of only a couple, most of them much younger than you and just happy to be at one of their first few parties.

“Oi, a snake has crawled into the winner’s common room.” Oikawa joked as he handed you a can. You accepted. 

“A snake in a lion’s den, I wonder who will win.” You quipped. 

“The lion, for sure.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure. Snakes can eat things 100 percent their size.” You raised a brow and opened your can. 

“Hm,” Oikawa looked over his shoulder and called out for someone you didn’t see. “Hey! Who do you think would win, a lion or a snake?”

“A lion obviously.” It was Hajime Iwaizumi. 

You let out a groan, immediately losing your sense of humor. “Ah, you’ll see in less than a week.”

“I don’t think I will.” Iwaizumi said, stoic and annoyed. “This win was only one of few.”

“I suggest you just celebrate this win.” You took a sip. “Because I don’t think the losing team would like to come to the winner’s party.”

“That just means I will not be seeing you, which is a grand idea.”

It was the time of year just before winter, where the air starts to cool but the sun still warms your skin. You took a breath and held your broom at your side. 

It was near minutes before the anticipated game against Gryffindor, and you could hear the crowds already. The rivalry between your houses was something that everyone enjoyed; the rivalry between you and their keeper was all you.

“Alright team.” You pivoted to the team behind you. “We’re playing Serpent first; and if we don’t get any points within the first two minutes, I’ll hold up the signal for Green. Got it?”

“Got it.”

You had a pretty well-rounded team in your honest opinion. Tsukishima was perfect as your keeper, he was never one to let anything get past him. Your chasers included you, Yamaguchi, and another girl named Yui Michimiya. You had the Miya twins for beaters. And, rather recently, you gained a new seeker named Tobio Kageyama. The same age as your keeper, but only wanted to join quidditch out of hate for the Gryffindor seeker (and who were you to deny that?).

The Gryffindor team was not one to mess with, they had a nice team too. Iwaizumi as the keeper, the Idiots Nishinoya and Tanaka as beaters, their new seeker Shoyo Hinata... but the problem was their chasers: Oikawa, Kiyoko Shimizu, and Wakatoshi Ushijima. They were so quick on their brooms, it was like working against wind.

Today was no day to lose.

“It’s our first official match of the year.” You encouraged. “Let’s show them who not to mess with.”

“Let’s absolutely destroy them.” Atsumu added.

You grinned.

As you headed towards the field, you could feel the adrenaline creeping into your bones. Quidditch had become routine, simple muscle memory as you moved to your starting positions. 

The Gryffindor team appeared, and you felt the excitement enter you in a rush of air.

In the air, Hajime Iwaizumi felt at peace. He was very good at what he did, and he knew that, and the game was something he was passionate about.

He was also passionate about beating you.

You were the bane of his existence. You had never once sent him anything other than something bitter or sarcastic. You were an annoying pest that he simply couldn’t get rid of.

And as you threw the Quaffle into the goal just above his head, Iwaizumi felt his eye twitch.

Slytherin won, Tobio Kageyama’s hand high with the Snitch inside. 

You watched in triumph as the teams descended on the brooms. From the skies down, you cheered.

“Congrats, Slytherin.” Oikawa said, though his tone was bitter and sour. 

You knew that he hated losing, so you didn’t push it. He was a friend, after all. Sending him just a small “I’m sorry you didn’t win” smile, you headed to your team. You gathered them into a hug, or rather-- a huddle, and ruffled the hair on Kageyama’s head. 

You peeked over your shoulder to catch sight of Iwaizumi. He was standing, hands at his sides, red face and eyes blank of any expression other than anger.

You smirked at him.

Hajime Iwaizumi was on the other side of the victory this time, silently brooding as he picked at his food in the Great Hall. The Gryffindor table emitted zero volume. 

He was pissed off the second you entered the hall, Kei Tsukishima and Tadashi Yamaguchi walking beside you. The green and white seemed to glow, mocking him in the worst way imaginable. 

Oikawa tried to bring his attention back to the food, but Iwaizumi was focused primarily on you. You were gloating, relishing in his loss, taking delight in the compliments from your house. A Hufflepuff appeared at your side, and you smiled as you thanked them for their congratulations. 

He felt sick.

You could not help but drown yourself in the triumph. You walked on air, the feeling of superiority tickling every inch of skin it could touch.

You waved goodbye to a couple of friends, heading directly to the Gryffindor table. You placed your hands on Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s shoulders, leaning to place your head right between theirs.

“I suppose the snake beats the lion.” You sent a wink to Iwaizumi, knowing full well how it would provoke him. 

“Fuck off.” Iwaizumi shoved your hand off of his shoulder.

“Go receive your praise at the Slytherin table.” Oikawa shooed, fork in hand. “You won’t find it here.”

“Sore losers.” You mocked just for fun. You stood straight. “I imagine that I would be the same, given it were the other way.”

You basically skipped back to your table for breakfast.

You were absolutely elated for the rest of the day. It was quite similar to being on cloud 9, winning your first game of the year against your rivals. The look on Hajime Iwaizumi’s face only added to the feeling.

You were walking down the hall, talking to a fellow Slytherin girl who had her arm wrapped in yours. She was going on and on about how she wished she could have imprinted Kageyama’s snitch catch to her memory.

That was when your shoulder collided directly into a firm body.

Your arm was ripped away from your classmates, along with your bag that fell onto the hard ground with a loud thud and wisp of parchment and ink. Everything in your bag now scattered the ground, covered in the dark ink and dirt. 

Your mood was too high to get too angry. It was an accident; you would bite your tongue and clean up the mess.

Until you realized just who’s shoulder you ran into: Hajime Iwaizumi. Your greatest enemy and now destruction of your contents.

“Watch where you’re going next time, Hajime.” You grunted, kneeling to save some of your parchment before the ink could reach it. 

“Perhaps if you had your head out of your ass, you wouldn’t have run into me.” Iwaizumi responded. He had turned to face you midway through your fall.

“As if you didn’t feel this way a week ago.” You told him, standing up. Nearly everything that was in your bag was soaked, including the bag itself. You inhaled deeply. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Now, why would I run my shoulder into you on purpose hoping to ruin your mood?” He asked. “You must be very arrogant to think that everything must be about you.”

You clenched your jaw and closed your eyes. “I will not let a piece of shit such as yourself bring my mood down today. Today is a good day.”

You knelt once again to find your essay that you had written for Snape, searching your documents. Only to find it one of the few that were directly under the ink, completely doused in black.

“Actually, fuck you.” You lifted the paper. Ink dripped off and onto the ground. “Do you know how long I worked on this?”

“I don’t know, a couple of minutes?” Iwaizumi shrugged. “You aren’t exactly the best at your schoolwork.”

“You wish you knew me well, but you don’t at all.” You felt anger boil in your chest. “I worked very hard on this essay. Days, even. And you destroyed it in less than five seconds..”

“There’s the Slytherin in you.” He let out a humorless laugh. “You think everything has to be about you, and if it doesn’t than someone is out to get you. Your ego is so fucking enormous that you can’t even muster the idea that maybe something isn’t about you. You didn’t even win, Tobio won the game for you. God, why don’t you go make a friend instead of standing here arguing with me about an accident?”

And then, “You really are a raging bitch, aren’t you?”

The girl that you were talking to had wide eyes, and you were sure that she was ready to fight. A couple of bystanders that were once just listeners started to mumble. And you.... you couldn’t fathom words.

Your feud with him had grown deep, but it had never gone as far as that. In front of a crowd, no less. 

It was one thing to make comments, to be bitter and roll your eyes at each other’s presence. It was one thing to bicker, to fight, to joke to friends about the other’s incompetence and purposely pull on each other’s strings.

It was something else completely to call you a bitch in front of everyone in the middle of a hallway after a thread of insults.

You fake smiled, feeling unwanted tears threaten their way to your eyes. You would not allow yourself the angry tears; they would only make you angrier. 

“You’re more than just an asshole, Hajime Iwaizumi.” You told him. Because you truly didn’t have any words.

“Calling a woman a bitch is the worst insult. Those are fighting words.” Oikawa’s older sister used to say. “It’s comparable to calling a man a pussy.”

Hajime Iwaizumi didn’t think much while he spoke. He just said the things as they came, especially when he didn’t really care much about what you thought of him.

But, calling you a bitch... that felt as if it were crossing a line that he didn’t have the authority to cross. And the look on your face after he said it was one that he had never witnessed on you.

At practice, his head still held the image of you. 

He was confused. Why did he regret calling you a name? It wasn’t as if the two of you don’t argue in front of people all of the time. In fact, it was nearly a common occurrence. 

For some ungodly reason, he felt a tug at his chest. 

“Maybe you should apologize?” Oikawa suggested.

“Why would I apologize to her?”

“Because I think you went a little bit too far.” He told his best friend as truthfully as possible. “Because as much as I think the rivalry between you two is fun, she’s still just a girl. And because my sister said you should.”

“You wrote your sister?”

“Yeah, of course I did.”

For several days, Hajime Iwaizumi hadn’t seen you. You didn’t eat in the Great Hall, you didn’t come to the classes he had with you, you didn’t go to Hogsmeade like you usually did on weekends.

So, he came to your practice.

He was hoping to apologize. It was something he had never done to you before, and he had practiced it quite a few times. Just a small, “I’m sorry for calling you a bitch in front of everyone.”

Yes. That should be fine and the two of you could go back to the regularly scheduled loathing.

But the second he stepped onto the field, the two beaters stood in front of him. 

“I wouldn’t.” Atsumu said, holding his broom. “She’s been in a mood.”

“I know, I’m the reason for that.” Iwaizumi said. “I just want to talk to her. Just a second.”

“I wouldn’t.” Osamu repeated. “Whatever you have to say, it’s gonna have to wait.”

Iwaizumi nodded, looking at the twins. He was going to ask them to tell you that he had been there, ask them to ask you to meet him somewhere or something so he can get the stupid apology off of his chest, when you appeared behind them.

“Get off of my field, Hajime Iwaizumi.” You said. You had been at practice for the past two hours (according to the sign ups), yet your voice was even and you hadn’t even broken a sweat. In fact, your voice spit toxin in his direction.

“I just wanted to...”

You had taken off before he could even say his second word. The twins followed right after.

Tooru Oikawa took a place beside you. It would have been normal, if it were not for your avid avoidance of anyone with a Gryffindor robe on.

“Hello, Tooru.” You said without sparing him a glance.

The thing was, you weren’t angry with him. You didn’t hate Oikawa, you hated his closest friend. And by association, you didn’t want to talk to him just as much. Oikawa had always been the middle ground between the doom and gloom that was the dark haired man you hated.

“I think you should talk to Iwa.” Oikawa said. Plain and simple, to the point.

“I think you should mind your business.” You retorted. “I never talked to him to begin with, what’s different now?”

“Because now is different.” He grabbed his book as the professor walked in. “Now, you won’t even say your smart ass remarks or tell him how fucked up his hair looks. Now is just... boring and sad.”

“So you want me to talk to the guy I hate in order for you to not be bored?” You scoffed and collected your things. “Truly, you are his best friend.”

You left just as the professor started talking, receiving a few stares in the process. It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to that.

You were walking with Tsukishima, laughing at your attempts to get him to smile. Your team had really taken your mind and restored your confidence. You figured, as long as you didn’t see the man you hate then he simply didn’t exist. It was that easy.

Until you accidentally caught his eye across the street. 

It had been snowing, so most of the students were in their winter gear and warm clothes. You yourself had a hat and scarf on, gloves to cover your hands despite the hot to-go mug of cocoa in them. 

Hogsmeade was quite busy with everyone getting last minute holiday gifts and hurrying to hang out before break. Yet, somehow, your eyes found the brown of Iwaizumi’s.

You turned around, forcing Tsukishima to follow. The younger boy didn’t even have to ask about your change in demeanor, easily falling into pace beside you. 

You felt a hand on your wrist, and heard your name being called. “Hey. Can I talk to you? I’ve been trying to apologize...”

You stopped dead in your tracks, as if you were pulled on a leash. As if his bare hand touching your empty gloved one had scolded you. Iwaizumi stood before you, red cheeks from either the cold or from rushing after you. Either way, you wanted nothing to do with it. 

He had spun you in his grasp, his jaw tight and eyes searching yours before falling to his hand around yours. His grip on your wrist was tight, and he swallowed as his eyes found yours again.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You snatched your arm away. “Have you ever considered that? I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to see you, and I don’t want to hear your half-ass apology!”

“I have been trying to talk to you.” He said. “I...” His eyes scanned yours. His tongue rolled in his mouth. “You mean to tell me that you don’t want my apologies?”

“You’ve made it very clear what you think of me, so I hope that I can make this very clear for you,” You took a deep breath. “I hate you. I don’t like you, I have never liked you, and I hope that whatever it is that is eating you up inside continues to do so.”

Hajime Iwaizumi’s eye twitched. He started to take a step towards you, but decided against it, falling back into the same step. “I don’t...” His voice was nothing as you had ever heard it. “You...” His eyes clouded with the emotions you were familiar with. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

It was a sudden realization. It was not something you had even considered before, not something planned or reasoned. It was much like a tsunami, a build up of unrelated activity that brought something else entirely.

Emotions were unfortunate things. If you feel extreme emotions for someone, no matter what... they are still very strong feelings.

Hate to love, what a strange concept.

You held the potion below your nose, inhaling the scent. 

“What does it smell like?” Snape asked.

“It smells like... bergamot.” You distinguished the varying smells. “Apple. And... lavender?”

You stepped back and hoped no one could see you connecting the dots through your eyes.

Tooru Oikawa was an observant person. He was known to be the person who knew the best for his team, easily finding the perfect techniques for each on the field and as encouragement. He was one for connections and relationships.

Which is why he knew that you were masking feelings of something else with this burning hatred. Which is why he knew why you felt so bad after Iwa called you a terrible name in front of an audience. Which is why he knew who it was when you listed your amortentia scents.

He tried to send you a look from his seat across from you, classes later. He wanted to tell you that he knew; that he knew there was something more to what’s going on, and that something was Iwaizumi.

You just sent him a middle finger, knowing full well what he was getting at.

Your feelings didn’t just suddenly arrive. And you were full of confusion, disorientation, and most of all... anger.

For as long as you could remember, Hajime Iwaizumi was supposed to be your arch enemy. He was your nemesis on a daily basis. He was the reason for your annoyance. He was the reason for your hatred for the colors red and gold. He was the reason you became the quidditch captain. He was the reason for the breath leaving your lungs.

And he was the reason for the breath entering.

You were pissed. You were pissed that you had unrealized feelings for the man you were supposed to hate, have hated for years. You were pissed that your love had been in a game of chess, where the only outcome is to win or forfeit. You were pissed that the entire time you had spent a vast majority of your time hating, loathing, rolling your eyes at... the entire time you had a reserved space for hate, when it should have been quite the opposite.

The luck must have been exclusively for someone else, because it seemed as though whoever created you had decided to have a fun game.

You had punched Hajime Iwaizumi once. 

It was something you thought of a lot, and it was the main reason Iwaizumi chose not to test you too closely to that day. 

He was rolling his eyes at something Oikawa was saying when you walked by. You were heading to your quidditch practice, the captain not one for latecomers. And he caught sight of you. He quickly jumped from his spot and stopped you from passing.

“Out of the way, Hajime, I have practice.”

“Oh, right, because you’re on the quidditch team now.”

“I am, thank you very much.” It was the beginning of third year, and you were not only annoyed but you were also a Growing Person going through puberty. You did not have time to deal with a teenage boy pissing you off. “You forget that not everyone got on the team their first year of trying out.”

“Because we’re better than the entire Slytherin team.”

“Talk to me when you win a house cup.” You tried to push past him, but he stood directly in front of you in one step. “Move, or be moved.”

“What are you going to do? Punch me?”

So, you did. Your fist collided with his cheek before you could even register that it had happened. Oikawa gasped out loud, it quickly turning into a laugh. 

“She punched you!” Oikawa laughed, grasping at his sides. “Ah man!”

While Iwaizumi touched his cheek to check that— ah yes, you really did punch him— you were already walking away to the practice field.

Iwaizumi missed you, if he were being fully and completely honest with himself.

He found himself searching for you in classes or in common areas, prepared for your snide remarks and bitter taunts. He found himself waiting for you to roll your eyes at his presence; looking for you to quip about the next quidditch game.

But when none of it came, he felt out of place.

He actually missed your annoyed banter. He missed you shoving your middle finger in his direction. He missed the redness on your cheeks when you would try to calm yourself down. He missed the silence that would escape you if he entered a room and you were anything other than angry.

He missed catching you smiling at someone and watching your face change. He missed the arguments in class. He missed the little comments during eating.

Confused, he pushed those feelings down as he watched you eat with some Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff that he had never talked to before.

It had been several weeks of silence from your end. You had thrown yourself back into quidditch before the break, happy to have a distraction from whatever the fuck you were feeling. You weren’t going home for the holidays, so you spent some time planning for the spring and classes.

You found yourself outside, sitting in the snow and writing a make up essay for Snape. You had found a nice spot under a roofed area, so nothing smudged your writing (or, you know, covered it completely). 

“Oh.” A voice said from above you.

You looked up to find Iwaizumi, hands in pockets and staring at you as if you had never existed and he was discovering you for the first time.

“I wasn’t expecting to find anyone here.” He said. 

“Yeah, obviously neither was I.” You started to put your things away.

“No... no comment?”

“Hm?”

“No... snarky comment? No you look terrible to me?”

You shook your head. Mainly because you didn’t have the energy. You were content, bored, and just overall exhausted. You had exhausted yourself in thinking of every possible outcome to your love for the man in front of you, none of which made any sense.

None of it made any sense.

It was as if one moment, you were standing on ground. And the next, you were swept away by a giant wave that you thought was only an earthquake. You hated love. 

“Then, can I finally say what I have been meaning to?”

“No.” You finally got the last of your things into your bag. 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why can’t you just hear me out?” He stood in front of you, hoping to stall your leaving. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I shouldn’t have called you a bitch, and I should have...”

“And I don’t want to hear it.”

You started to leave, but he jogged to jump in front of you again. Through the years, he had gained height compared to you. You weren’t necessarily kids anymore, you weren’t at eye level to just punch him in his cheek without reaching for it. 

“God, you’re fucking annoying.” You shifted your bag on your shoulders. “You want me to call you a name so it can be even? You want me to tell you that everything is fine and we can go back to our constant fighting? What do you fucking want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” He asked, voice rising to match yours. “What do you want from me? I’ve been trying to get your attention for over a fucking month and you have given me every reason to just stop.”

“Then why don’t you!” You dropped your hands. “Why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

“Why?”

“Why what, Hajime?”

“Why?” Iwaizumi let out a small breath, the grey cloud leaving his lungs. “Why won’t you just let me talk to you for five minutes?”

“Because I don’t want to! Because I don’t want to hear you make up excuses. Because I cannot listen to your voice for too long.”

Before you could stop yourself, before you could recognize your own voice, before any thoughts arrived, you said, “Because for some fucked up god awful reason, I’m in love with you!”

Everything froze all at once. The oxygen left your lungs, the snow stopped falling, and everything became so unbearably silent.

You stared at him, regret drenching you in an instant as if the tides of the ocean had rose and fell in one single motion. You couldn’t breathe, your heart seized in your chest and against your ribs. You couldn’t bring yourself to look into his face, fearing to find yourself lost and never found.

He let out a single breath. And you held yours.

fin.

[poisonouswritings]

AAAAAAH I SAW THE ELOWEN REPLY IM JUST-😳😳😳 FKSJRKWJDKS her.

Ok so hear me out once again:

So technically, The main 3 never had a chance to interrogate Elowen properly abt why she switched sides other than her saying "I don't wanna get played by LoS so I'm joining yall for now"

So Felix comes up with this idea: to brew a truth potion, add it to her morning coffee and just ask random questions throughout the day in their usual conversations. Anisa is reluctant about it while Sage is on board because even in Fathom Elowen seems not participate in a lot of conversations and just sit there and listen. So the boys manage to convince Anisa too. After the truth potion is slipped into Elowen drink however,

1) Elowen starts to tell every mean thing that passes in her head, unfiltered asf. Makes Sage roasted ham

"Idk who let you be a member of the Starsworn bc the way you live makes you look like the comedic relief side character in a play who is lowkey depressed."

"Go wash yourself dipshit you look like a mop used to wipe the floor" (mean asf dont judge me-)

2) Flirts with MC as if it's the most casual thing, MC is shocked bc they had guessed Elowen had a reason to be nice to them(She does actually, she only treats you the way you treat her)

"Nice ass" "Who tf said that-" "Me. Nice ass. Appreciate yourself more you idiot look in the mirror or something, you're hot."

"Marry me." "Elowen-" "Do it so I can piss this useless fleabag off."

3) Slander them for how disorganized the main 3 are in their plans with only backup plan. Mentions Lucan sometimes. Gets sentimental

"You cannot organize knights when you cant even organize your room. Clean that up Anisa I can smell spaghetti."

"Lucan used to get paranoid over plans. Have backups is all I have to say. Consider every outcome, and you will be foolproof. "

From that day on everyone swore to never use that option on Elowen again.

:)))

No but that's so funny I fucking love her,,

I feel like Elowen makes it a habit to learn about the people she works with so that if they ever turn on her she'll have the upper hand. That means studying them. She keeps the info to herself but once she's had the truth potion??

Felix is flipping through some books trying to do research and he keeps pacing around the study and Elowen just pokes her head and goes 'your favorite quill is in Stella's pile of toys under the stuffed bear' and! Felix fucking finds it!! Right there!!! And he's finally able to get back to his work because he now has That One Focus Object and he doesn't even think to ask Elowen how she knew it was there

Anisa is scatterbrained and trying to find her knife because she's running late for a Sunstone meeting and Elowen, without looking up from her coffe, goes 'left boot inner ankle' and Anisa checks and finds it there and is just like,, Oh! Thank You Elowen! Why do you know that tho and Elowen just sips her drink and doesn't respond.

Sage is making Felix coffee and Elowen, leaning against the counter, goes 'he says he wants two sugars but really he wants three and a half' and Sage is just glaring at her because Why Does She Know That

She! Makes! Everyone!! Make!! A!!! Backup Plan!!!

Sage starts to argue about some aspect of it and El just flicks his forehead and is like 'I do not have the time or crayons necessary to explain this to you' and Sage is just Pissed

That being said I think the main person she targets with her insults is Sage for obvious reasons

'You remain an excellent reminder for why abortion should be legal' but is that an insult saying he never should have been born or that his illegitimate children would be fucking everywhere were it not for abortion? I don't know! I think they're both hilarious!

She totally is flirting with you just to piss off Sage. But I think there's a little something genuine in there too. Maybe a hint of admiration that you've (apparently) managed to tame the Red Wraith. Or maybe she's just impressed that you haven't killed him already for being annoying.

More than that though, remember when Sage said that you remind him of Lucan? That you two would like each other? I think Elowen sees that too. And if you ask her about it, she'll admit it.

She literally just locks Anisa, Felix, and Sage in Anisa's apartment and orders them to clean it and then just takes you on a date kidnaps you.

[keilemlucent]

long days for bad people

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~6k

Being a prized, adored possession was far better than you thought it would be.

warnings: light daddy kink (no age play, just the name in mostly jest), spit kink, crying kink, degradation, brief descriptions of blood + violence, kidnapping (consensual?? read a/n), brat taming, light sadomasochism, mind break, praise kink

------

here it is, mafia au, villain hawks, dom, brat tamer, soft(?!) hawks. what more could you want? 

there’s briefly described kidnapping at the beginning of the fic but it is reiterated throughout that this is consensual! no yandere/stockholm stuff in this fic. 

i’ve been working on this one for a while and i’m happy to finally share it. hope y’all enjoy!!

||||||||||||||||||||

You shouldn’t have fucked around with the League.

God, it was common knowledge in the parts of town and circles you inhabited. Of all criminal syndicates, mobs, to fuck with, the League wasn’t one of them. They were known for their complete cruelty and violent delights. The League had such a reputation due to the fact that they openly left bodies carved up and burnt as they pleased.

But, you were a fucking idiot and got involved anyways.

It was a small loan, Giran almost seemed to scoff when he gave you the cash. You and your almost-stranger of a roommate were just very late on some bills and were going to lose a lot of material items if you didn’t scrounge up at least two paychecks in about three days. 

You swallowed your pride and took the first and easiest loan you could get. That just happened to be with gap-toothed, wide-grinning Giran of the League. He, you knew from what you’d heard, was somewhat fair in matters like yours. 

You had two weeks to pay him back.

...

You didn’t make it in time.

You were close to the amount, notably. You scrounged and clawed your way into getting the cash back. You weren’t much of a pickpocket, but you snagged some odd jobs around the apartment building that you and your roommate were still fortunate enough to keep a room in.

After one particular job, a nasty carpentry gig that you weren’t qualified for, you returned home tired and worn.

Sure, you were a day late on payment. But with this last gig, you were so close. The League would have to pity two, stupid, stupid young girls?

They didn’t, you realized, as you stepped into your apartment.

Your roommate's slain corpse was laying over the arm of your cheap couch, eyes vacant and mouth dripping blood onto the old beige carpet.

You dropped to your knees, horrified and completely stunned.

“You should’ve known better,” it was a hum from across the room, from a figure you didn’t even know was in the room until then. “Really, you’d expect folks to be smarter.”

Your mouth dried as the figure moved from the nighttime shadows, flashing a dazzling smile and ruffling crimson wings.

Hawks.

You’d heard of him, everyone had. Terrifying, fast, precise, and cutthroat. He took orders and didn’t ask questions other than snark. He talked too much, fucked too much. 

“W-wait,” You didn't know why you were pleading, but you had to try, right? “I’m so close, wait—”

Hawks sauntered up to you wielding one of his feather blades, the red of blood mixing with the filaments of his feathers.

He crouched down in front of you, tsking, “I don’t like begging, angel. I’ll make this quick for you. Your friend there?”

Hawks jerked his finger behind to your dead roommate.

“She fought, pleaded, begged, all that normal shit I don’t like hearing when shitheads like you two don’t make payday,” his voice was slow, talking about death like some casual thing. “I’ll make this nice and fast if you don’t run your mouth anymore, how about that?”

You swallowed, nodding.

The small percentage of your brain that was fully functioning figured dying quickly was a much better way to go than whatever the hell had happened to your roommate. There was far too much blood for that to be quick.

Hawks hummed, the tip of his feather blade tipping up your chin so you were forced to meet his gaze. You vaguely heard the pitter-patter of your tears hitting the carpet below. Blood rushed in your ears as you stared death in the face.

Hawks appraised you.

You watched the metaphorical cogs and wheels turning in Hawks’ skull as he looked you up and down before flashing forward, gathering you in his arms and flying from the apartment. 

Your first thought was obvious as you clung to him in the open air:

He’s going to drop you and kill you.

When you screamed, tears growing thicker, he slapped a gloved hand over your mouth, “I’m giving you an out, kid. Trust me. You’ll prefer this over death.”

 ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Your new existence was certainly better than death.

If you were ever caught and convicted of any of the illegal things you participated in, you’d be fucked, thrown into prison until you rotted, until you were just dust and bone.

But, until then, you worked for the League.

You had groveled at the feet of their leader, Shigaraki, hands clasped on your lap, claiming your worth, or maybe lack thereof. Not many attachments, not many people who’d miss you, a semi-useful quirk. 

With a boot shoved into your skull, he sneered that you’d be the League’s new errand dog. 

The real reason they accepted you was due to the threatening air Hawks was exuding and the fact that their old ‘errand bitch’ had died the week prior. They needed a new body to act as a civilian and do things that only an unsuspecting-looking ‘civilian’ could. You fit the bill, and Hawks had taken a liking to you.

 Oddly, working for the League was actually pretty okay.

You got your own room. It was small, but you only had to share a bathroom with the somewhat unhinged Himiko, but she was fairly nice once she warmed up to you. Everyone lived in the League’s HQ and went about their business, getting drunk at their bar front each night.

Most of the mess happened at night, but it was important to put on a nice veneer and keep spirits high. Not to mention that no one would dared to fuck with the League, anyways. The cops and federal government had long been paid off due to the resources that the League had acquired for them. 

You felt somewhat untouchable.

A lot of this confidence was due to the fact that you had become Hawks’s... Keigo’s...

‘Songbird’

As he liked to call you, anyway. 

Keigo was the general, loveable annoyance of the League, but his connections were invaluable and his skills were unmatched. Despite how he could grate on people (read: Dabi and Shigaraki), he was respected and feared just as much as everyone else was, if not more so. And being his metaphorical and literal pet had its perks.

Sure, the first time he had you come to his ‘office’ and he fucked you against the window until it was smeared with cum and blood was a bit surprising, but god, if you didn’t fucking love it. Being Keigo’s personal fucktoy came with protection, pleasure, and a surprising amount of genuine attention. The dude was lonely, and so were you. The two of you made a good ‘couple’, if you could even call yourselves that. The sadism he doled out was always counterpointed by affections that did seem genuine. 

Keigo was fond of you, and you of him. Maybe your brush with death had twisted something in your head, to even allow yourself to get close to a man like Keigo, but you couldn’t make yourself care. 

You were comfortable and content. 

...

[bird boss]: hey babe ;^) get to my office in the next thirty minutes 

[you]: what if i don’t

[bird boss]: do u really want to find out

[you]: ...

[you]: im just curious 

[bird boss]: don’t get cheeky songbird 

[you]: u make me wanna u know

[you]: i know it gets you riled up

[bird boss]: tread lightly kid

[you]: oooo i gave you some guff over text

[you]: what’re you gonna do about it?

[bird boss]: use your imagination

[bird boss]: 25 minutes now, songbird

[bird boss]: don’t make this worse for yourself <3

 You set your phone on your cheap duvet, quickly primped yourself to see Keigo. He wasn’t too strict about your appearance but wearing dark clothes and some of the more expensive gifts he’d gotten you over the months he’d been screwing you never hurt. Something about ownership with him always got him hot and bothered. 

You tried to remind yourself frequently that Keigo saw you as some sort of possession, but a possession with feelings.

Meandering through HQ was always a bit daunting, despite your protections. Your skimpy outfit choice and hardly-hidden lingerie made you feel a bit more like an object than you liked too. 

There were hardly hungry mouths around the League, they kept you all fed, but god, were there starving eyes. 

Dabi wolf-whistled as you walked past him through a common room, shouting something about how Keigo was collecting his pound of flesh for the day. Maybe a line or two about being a whore, but that was all flavor at that point. Keigo called you far meaner, more sinful things. And hell, it wasn’t like Keigo hadn’t... shared you on more than one occasion. 

Maybe you were a little fucked up for enjoying your lifestyle to the degree you did, but why not indulge where you could? Life was far shittier scraping paint off old fences and picking up cans to just scrape by. 

Opulence was a breath of fresh air. And if you were Keigo’s fuck toy? Then, god, you were Keigo’s fuck toy.

When you arrived at Keigo’s office, you knocked gently on the door, quickly adjusting your skirt and blouse. 

The door opened, though no one was behind it. Only a single one of Keigo’s feathers allowed you entrance. 

His office seemed daunting and extravagant for a man who did most of his ‘work’ in far-shadier, far-bloodier places. The walls were covered in mirrors and old paintings, something out of vanity and pride, knowing how Keigo saw himself. There were several black leather couches scattered around against walls, some stained by your various... activities. There was a broad desk parallel to a back wall made entirely of windows. 

Night had fallen, leaving the room lit by a few lamps and warm fixtures. 

“Hey, boss,” You hummed as you stepped in, shutting the door behind you just before the lingering scarlet feather flicked the lock on the door.

And the other one.

And the deadbolt.

You swallowed thickly. 

As much as you enjoyed a lot of the perks of your... position, it was also daunting.

Keigo was daunting, all bloody colors, vanity, and hunger. 

He sat behind his desk, wings puffed up, and partially extended over the back of his chair. The desk chair was massive, specifically acquired so that you would have enough room to properly straddle his lap for hours on end if he so wished. 

Keigo idly clicked around on his desktop computer. He leaned slack and back into the chair, legs spread wide and exuding casual confidence that reeked of his own ego. 

Keigo normally wore a mix of black and red, as edgy as it was. He liked to seem clean, hide the stains of sanguine that undoubtedly lingered on him no matter how he tried to cleanse himself. His black slacks were pressed, the seams pristine. The black shirt he wore was rolled up to his elbows, the buttons of his red vest undone as well. His black tie hung half-undone and limp around his neck. His tousled gold hair was mussed as normal, ruffled by his flights. His feathers might’ve needed preening, but you doubted that that was the reason he called you to his office. 

And based on the deep set of his brow and the sickly smile on his lips, he was already on edge and in a mood. 

“Songbird, come over here, will you?” Keigo sat back from his typing, watching you from across the room. He took you in the same way a parched man sucks down red wine, greedily and soon to be fucked. “On my lap.”

You complied, despite your earlier attitude. You padded across the room, going around his desk. 

As you moved to straddle his lap, worn hands gripped your waist. His amber eyes gave you a warning, crinkling at the edges, “Not like that, sweetheart. Do daddy right.”

Oh, so it was one of those moods. 

Maybe you were Keigo’s sexual punching bag so he could exert control on something he could later kiss better and patch up. 

Sure, he was going to fucking ruin you, but part of the fun with him was that the more it hurt, the nicer he was after. And, all things considered, with some of the... other folks the League brought in to satiate its member’s desires, you fared far better. Keigo cared about you, in his own particular way. 

You tried to lean over his lap yourself, but his hands and feathers positioned you perfectly as he wanted. With the tight grip he had on your waist and shoulders, dragging you just as he liked, it was easy to see his need for control. 

Your head hung off of one of his thighs as you squirmed in his lap. His bulge already pressed into your ribs, a wonderful reminder of the reward you’d reap later on. Keigo’s hands gathered your hand to the small of your back, a feather replacing their grip a moment later.

“Sit with me while I finish this shit,” Keigo grumbled, going back to clicking the desktop. His leg bobbed absentmindedly, his free hand rubbing over the curve of your barely-covered ass. “Be a good girl, (Y/N). If you can stand that.”

He laughed under his breath. 

You let your head dangle limply downwards, blood rushing to your cheeks. 

You’d thought you’d be in for more of an ass-kicking, but it appeared Keigo was taking things unusually slow. You knew better than to complain, but kicking up a bit of metaphorical sand couldn’t be that bad, right?

“I dunno,” You hummed, kicking your legs lightly. “I don’t think you like it when I’m a ‘good girl’, daddy.”

“Watch it.” A single, sharp smack to your butt was hardly enough to shut you up, but Keigo did so all the same, rubbing over the covered flesh a moment later, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you sure about that?” You wriggled, intentionally pushing up against his growing erection.

His breath stuttered, a smirk pulling at the corners of your lips. The hand on your ass didn’t rear again, rather Keigo kept thumbing smooth circles as he continued to click around on the computer. He might have been actually doing work. Or, he was ignoring you, egging your sass on. 

“If you didn’t want anything, why’d you call me in here?” You asked, way too cheeky for the way Keigo’s body was practically vibrating underneath you. Pissing him off had consequences, of course, but you weren’t in the mood to play ‘good girl’ that day.

“I told you, I want you to sit with me,” Keigo pinched your ass. “But, you’re too mouthy to do just that one thing. You’re usually better than this.”

“Am I?” You played innocent, craning to give him a wide smile. “Hadn’t noticed. What I am noticing, is your already-hard cock, dear.”

“Oh, ‘dear’?!” Keigo paused on the computer. “Cheeky. Cute.” 

Keigo would just dig in more, lean in, before ‘snapping’, if you could call it that.

You gulped as his hand swatted at upper thighs, his nails almost knicking your skin.

“Up and don’t get smart about it.”

Oh, you were going to be remarkably smart about it.

You rose but hardly stayed upright for long. Sliding down to your knees, you pushed at Keigo’s legs, “Wouldn’t you prefer me down here? Just for a treat while you finish your work?”

Keigo clicked his tongue, gaze flickering down to you, “Fine. Behave yourself.”

Yeah, right. You both knew that that wasn’t going to happen. 

You were already tucked underneath his desk, undoing the fly of his pants. 

You pulled his cock from his trousers, pumping his cock to full hardness. Smearing around preek for a bit of extra flare before inching forward.

Wrapping your mouth around Keigo’s dick was somewhat of a feat— he had a decent girth to him, so you usually took the opportunity to warm him (and yourself) up with a bit of tip-kissing and kitten licks.

But, you were feeling bold.

You spit on his dick, a move that normally would have earned you plenty of verbal snark, but anything Keigo could’ve said to you was swallowed as you took his cock down to the back of your throat.

You sucked around it, massaging the vein on the bottom with the flat of your tongue. Drool began to pool at the side of your lips as you let the head bump your throat, gag reflex be damned.

All the while, Keigo had stopped moving above you. The fabric of his trouser balled up in his ringed-fingers as he gazed half-lidded down at you. 

You smiled around his dick, looking up at him innocently as you began to slowly bob your head. His wings fluttered, twitches and air stirring around you. 

Keigo stifled a laugh, a hand tangling in your hair, “All that talk earlier and now you’re treating me to a blowjob without even me having to tell you to? Dove, you’re too much.”

You pulled off of him to reply, “I can only try.”

Before he could reply, you spit on his dick again, and went back to slurping around him.

You held the base of his cock in your hands, twisting and spreading spittle. It almost felt like your actions were for show, but Keigo’s eyes were rolling back in his head all the same.

You smirked.

A drool pool from your mouth, puddling in your lap and soaking your skirt. Not like you weren’t already dripping from the sinful sounds Keigo stopped trying to hold.

“A-ah, that’s it, angel,” Keigo fucked into your mouth with his hold on your hair. “Just like that.”

Your hand rose to play with Keigo’s balls, teasing at the sack as he cried out a high moan above you. 

Considering the performance you were giving, it was unsurprising to feel him tensing above you. You’d been on your knees for him hundreds of times; you’d learned to see the little twitches and puffs of breath he’d give when he’d get close to coming. 

You pulled off his cock with a pop, detangling the hand from your hair in the motion. It was all fast enough that Keigo couldn’t have stopped you in his hazy, pleasure-filled state. 

Based on the look of rapid disbelief he was giving you, your trick had worked well. Knowing Keigo’s... tendencies made you hesitant to push him too much in the past, but for whatever reason, you were feeling stupidly bold. 

Consequences.

“Sorry, daddy,” You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Didn’t feel like swallowing today.”

Keigo’s disheveled appearance was more than gratifying. Knowing how easily you made him come undone by that point was one of the perks of your position.

His hair was more than ruffled, strands and tufts chaotically curled around his cheeks and ears. There was a bright blush on his face, spreading from his nose to the apples of his cheeks, down his deck. At some point, he’d popped the buttons at the top of his shirt. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, half-panting and based on the darkness in his brow and the far-too peachy smile on his face, Keigo was fucking pissed.

His wings stood on end.

You gulped from below him.

Maybe you pushed your luck too far.

Maybe. 

“You’re playing real cute today, aren’t you songbird?” Keigo didn’t move, but his feathers twitched above him, wings flaring out even farther. “Real fucking cute.”

You were fucked.

Good.

A few feathers flew from Keigo, one snagging at your wrist, wrapping around it, and pulling you up from the desk.

You wobbled as you stood, dragged across the room as Keigo leisurely followed behind you. When you tried to set your own pace, Keigo swatted your ass with a huff, “You never learn, huh? I thought I’d trained you better than this.”

You opened your mouth to spit some dickish retort, but you were cut off as Keigo’s shoved you onto one of the leather couches.

“Don’t.” Keigo’s tone was acidic as he stood over your, wings still flared out. “I told you I wasn’t in the mood for your cute bullshit, dove, and you still decided to test your luck, huh?”

You kneeled on the cushions, sucking down air, shaking with anticipation.

“You don’t feel like swallowing today? That’s fine, I can work with that,” Keigo shrugged easily from above you.

Keigo had an... active sexual imagination, and you could tell by the crook in his lips that he had something devilish planned as retribution.

A sharp slap came down on your cheek, Keigo catching the opposite jaw and keeping you from recoiling too far. You blinked as the pain spread around your skull like licking flames against a frostbitten body. 

You wanted more.

A little grin stretched against your mouth as Keigo rubbed at your cheeks with his thumbs, “Aw, you always get so sweet like this, dove. You can be a good girl if you try, can’t you?” 

His actions carried candor and his words absolute torment. 

Despite how Keigo was trying to goad you into submission, you had a bit of spark left in you. 

Plainly, you spit on him.

The glob of saliva landed on Keigo’s cheek, under his eye.

He blinked at you. 

You continued to smile.

His own expression grew strained.

“Oh, songbird,” Keigo damn near lamented, wiping away the kind gift you’d given him. His voice was smooth without any bit of waver, all of the sexually-charged anger rolling just beneath the veneer. “You’re just being pain slut today, aren’t you?”

You were, absolutely. You could feel your arousal wetting your panties, the heat of the strike from your cheek beginning to boil something in your gut. 

“You just need a bit of special attention today, right? That’s all.” Keigo tsked, fully removing the tie from around his neck. “You just need a little reminder.”

“Reminder of what?” You asked, tilting your head quizzically. 

Keigo flipped you, feathers pushing and bracing you as needed while nimble hands tore off your clothes without reverie.

“Plenty of things, especially with this attitude you’ve got today,” Keigo’s tie looped around your wrists, binding them together at the center of your back. 

“You definitely need a reminder of who’s the boss around here,” Keigo shoved you forward, stomach flush with the back of the couch.

You reeled from the pace of it all, shifting your knees for any bit of stimulation you could get. Keigo’s feathers were slicing and pulling your clothes from your body faster than you could keep track of. It was overwhelming, making your mind swim in the best possible way. You throbbed. 

“Maybe a reminder about who fucking provides for you,” Keigo’s own clothes were shaken off, dropped to the floor and forgotten.

It was true. Keigo always made sure than you were taken care of, in more ways than one. Despite how fast-paced and laid back he could seem, he was always on top of making sure you had more than enough material and immaterial pleasure whether than be in the form of food, fucking, or otherwise.

You yelped as a smack fell across your ass. A feather caught the elastic of your panties, snapping a moment later, leaving you fully bare before him. 

Keigo’s worn hand came to press at your throat and jaw, tilting your head back as he climbed behind you, “Maybe, you need a reminder about who keeps you safe.”

This phrase was softer than the others, a sweet kiss pressing to your cheek and his voice a bit more gentle. It was jarring at the skin still stung from his earlier strike, but you cherished the heat besides. 

Once again, true. The folks in and outside of the League were greedy. There were plenty of unwanted souls that stole glances at Hawks’s prized songbird. There were starved eyes that tore into you whether you were dolled up for Keigo or not. There had been some... close calls, one could say, but Keigo always was there, in the end, unafraid to get his hands dirty. 

“You know what the most important reminder is, dove?” Keigo rolled his hips against you, cock wedging between your thighs.

“N-no,” You stuttered, brain turning gooey as Keigo’s arms snaked around your waist, sharpened nails leaving indents in your hips.

He nosed at your neck, leaving a few love bites in his wake.“‘N-no’, what?” 

“I don’t know,” You leaned back into Keigo’s chest, rubbing your thighs around his cock. 

 “Oh, songbird, you sweet thing,” He chuckled, all teasing and self-indulgent. “I’m the one who makes you feel good.” 

He was so right, wasn’t he?

With the way he’d learned your body over the last few months, he’d had some undeniable pursuit to make you feel the best. 

Keigo was inquisitive by nature. He had kept you on your back for hours while he finger-fucked you, watching every twitch and roll of your hips to figure out just the right ways to break you. He’d kissed and sucked and slapped every inch of you, sussing out the perfect ways to make you writhe and cry for him. 

Sure, you were an absolute terror to him sometimes. Not to mention that Keigo jumping you covered in the blood of that day's targets was as macabre and horrifying as it sounded. 

But, fuck, if he didn’t know how to bring you to ecstasy that fucking ruined you in the best way. 

Keigo got off on watching you shatter for him. It was the reason he’d torn you from that cheap, bloodied apartment in the first place. A kind, naive little morsel that he could play with as he wanted. You didn’t complain. Fuck, you reveled in his attention. You gave it back to him, like the fucked up, semi-divine being could be any more debauched than he already was.

Corruption spreads, but you’d never complain. If being plucked from struggling for pennies to being fucked stupid by a man who could kill you at a moments notice, a man who would kill for you, somehow poisoned you?

You’d die with a bitter taste on your tongue and a smile on your face.

 Keigo rubbed at your clit, nipping at your neck, and rolled his hips greedily. His cock was covered in a mix of your slick and his own preek, easily sliding between plushness of your thighs.

“You love pushing me, acting all tough,” Keigo chastised, clicking his tongue. “I mean it when I say it's cute.”

You don’t have any more quick retorts in you, not when his fingers are down your throat, gagging you as spittle dribbles down your chin onto the leather below. It was sure to leave a mark.

“Behind all that bark and snark, you’re just a good girl, aren’t you?” Keigo punctuated his words with a bite and nip to your neck. “Just needed a reminder, right, dove?”

You whimpered against his fingers at the praise, grinding against Keigo’s touch needily. 

His fingers pushed pinched your tongue, breath curling over the shell of your ear, “What are you?”

You mumbled against his fingers, “A g-good g-girl.”

It was humiliating in the best way. Keigo’s light laugh at your attempt. The way he nuzzled his nose into the sweat at the crook of your shoulder was just aloe on the burn.

“I misspoke, if you can believe that,” Keigo’s cock pulled out from your thighs. “Songbird, you know what I meant to call you?”

You squirmed at the loss, but he was quick to hush you. His fingers left your mouth with a thick trail of spit. 

“You’re my good girl.” 

You melted in his arms.

Falling back against Keigo’s chest, you craned your neck to lock your lips to his. 

Maybe that was it, why all the filth didn’t bother you. Because you had worth. Maybe it was insecurity, or maybe it was self-aware in the face of your lived experience. Before being taken, the life you’d lived made you just a rusty cog in a dying machine. You wouldn’t have amounted to anything, probably. 

But with the League?

You were the prized, beloved consort of an angry god. 

Keigo owned you, body, mind and soul, and you let him. That’s not even to mention how you had him wrapped around your finger. He adored you, under all of it.

Fighting with him was for sport, not blood.

Keigo licked past your lips, pressing his cock to your cunt teasingly. You whined against him, wriggling in his arms.

“What does my good girl want?” Keigo loved making you beg for him, claw for any bit of stimulation. He liked it even better when you were already soft for him.

Stray tears pricked at your eyes, “Y-your cock.”

He pinched the meat of your thigh, shaking his head, “Not good enough. Speak properly, dove. Clear and correctly.”

You swallowed, searching for the words in your own haze.

Your words were willed to be solid.

“I want your cock, daddy.” 

It was just enough.

Keigo pushed forward, the head of his cock already stretching your cunt. Consider the girth of it, the lack of preparation stung and burned more than you would’ve liked, as good as it felt to finally be filled.

Keigo cooed at your soft tears, keeping your face to his with a firm hand on your jaw. He shushed you, far too sweetly while licking the salt from your cheeks, “Relax, angel. Big breaths.”

You nodded, sputtering as he speared into you. Keigo’s free hand went back to toying with your clit, encouraging the tension to drain from your body.

As he bottomed out, you shuddered, falling back into his chest. Keigo’s wings fluttered, twitching in wait. Hot breath fanned over your face, Keigo groaning and locking his jaw. 

The stimulation was overwhelming. You had expected Keigo to be meaner, considering how mouthy you’d been. 

Yet, it made sense. Keigo had figured out one of the better ways to make you break was softness. 

(Truthfully, it made him crack in the same way, but he’d never tell.)

“Feel that?” He asked, just barely rolling his hips. 

Keigo released your jaw in favor of wrapping a hand around the front of your throat, tugging you as close he could manage.

“Uh-huh,” You panted. 

You could, the kiss of his cock head against your cervix was almost uncomfortable. The delicious pressure and sensitivity already had you reeling in his arms, unsteady and wanting.

“I fill you up so good, don’t I?” Keigo praised his own ego, his cock, but he wasn’t wrong. The curve of his cock rubbed against all the right spots. He stretched you just right, the burn ebbing away into a need for more, more—

“Please, Keigo—” You gasped. Your legs shook as Keigo slammed into you, shoving you forward and into the wall.

His pace was brutal. Hands and feathers kept your back in a harsh arch as he rearranged your insides to his liking. He was kind enough to keep stroking at your clit, bruising your hips and babbling filthy nothings. 

“I’m the one who makes you feel this good, only me, right, dove?” Keigo growled into your ear with a particularly hard thrust.

You nodded against the wall, aware of the drool slipping down your chin as your mouth lolled open. Your insides were hot like white flames, searing any ability to use coherent speech. 

Keigo snickered at your state. Slowing, he gripped your ass cheeks. You yelped, inside jumping as he pried them apart. You flinched, hole twitching as he spat down, the liquid cool against the flushed skin.

It was little moves like that, Keigo just subtly making your shudder and feel dirty that got you the most fucked up and fucked out.

You pressed back on his cock, panting against the wall and keening. You would’ve spoke, if you could, but anything that you had the ability to say would’ve been torn apart by Keigo’s sharpened, silver tongue. 

“My filthy little dove, huh?” Keigo sneered, watching you try to bounce on his cock the best you could. “Such a glutton when you get broken down like this, needy whore.”

The pleasure of Keigo’s cock tearing up your insides was all you could focus on through the fog of your mind, desperate and wanting and greedy.

“Y-your,” You corrected, the words bubbling from your lips, disjointed and messy. “Yours.”

Keigo may have been avian, but he purred like a damn cat at your admission. He held you like a possession, cock throbbing as he fucked you just right. 

“God, you’re sweet, angel,” He nipped at your jaw before wrapping his hand around your throat. “Even all fucked up, you know who you belong to so well, don’t you?”

You nodded, rolling your hips back. 

Keigo must’ve taken pity on you, squeezing at the sides of your neck. Cruel as he could be, he must’ve noticed the way your thighs and knees trembled against the leather. Keigo knew the cloud in your eyes well— how to get you hazy and how to fuck you perfectly through the fog.

He fucked back into your dripping cunt, pace harder and faster than before. You were helpless to do anything other than fall forward into the wall, cheek squished against the scarlet. 

“Who’s brat are you?” Keigo squeezed a bit harder at your neck as you swallowed against his palm.

“Y-yours—!” You squeaked out, mind going numb from the stimulation and pressure.

A wicked sneer curled against your ear as Keigo’s movements grew sloppier. His tongue lolled over your shoulder, messy kisses and slobbery bites and marks left in his wake. He was close, but you weren’t far off easier.

“Little bird,” It was sweeter, closer and hotter. “Can you come for me? Come all over my cock?”

You nodded.

“Not good enough.” Keigo bit down, nearly breaking the fragile skin of your neck. “You know I like words, angel.”

You gave him words, plenty of them. 

Nearly incoherent pleads and cries poured from your bruised lips as Keigo pounded into you. Each blabbering wail was met with Keigo groans and grunts, condescending little phrases spitting over you without release.

Your lack of leverage and use of your arms made you thumping against the couch and wall, vision darkening on the edges as the pressure in your gut and the hold on your throat remained. 

You were breaking in his arms, tears rolling down your cheeks as you held yourself from cresting. The exertion of it all was taking its toll, legs jellied and chest beading with sweat. 

Keigo sensed it, shifting his hips to hit the spongy spot in your cunt, “Come, dove.”

You let go.

A sob shattered in your throat as your climax crashed through you. Keigo released your throat, holding you by your bound arms as he bottomed out. His own harsh cry panged against yours as he stuffed you full. 

Surprisingly gently, he rocked his hips against your own, letting the ambient throb of your cunt milk him dry.

You came down, rolling and spinning as you sucked down air a bit too fast. Keigo panted behind you, though the sound seemed dull.

The pressure from your wrists released, soft thumbs rubbing at where the fabric had bitten into your forearms, “Hey, angel, you with me?”

You could only nod weakly, exhaustion and aches creeping in. 

Keigo repositioned the two of you, setting himself against the arm of the couch, wings up free to drape and splay over the floor. He dragged you with him, pulling you to lay on his chest. The stickiness of his spunk, your slick, and general sweatiness might’ve been uncomfortable, but you weren’t quite lucid enough to care.

“How are you feeling? Still feeling a little mouthy?” Keigo teased, already knowing your answer. 

You muffled a groan against his chest, shaking your head against the sweat of his chest. 

“Awww,” Keigo chuckled, fingers brushing over your cheeks, “Is my dove a little fucked out?”

“Keeeigo, b-be nice.”

Your voice broke, parched.

Keigo snorted, pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead, “I guess I can manage that. Just for you, though. Can’t let the others see me get all soft.”

You wouldn’t; seeing Keigo warm and gooey, both of you mutually fucked-out, was a pleasure only you got to indulge in. And you loved every moment of it. 

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