#sometimes humor is the only way to deal with it all

[dementiadad]

😢

[euthymiya]

part one ; office mate! gojo ; company heir! gojo ; female intern! reader ; fluff ; pre getting together

Satoru is good at getting things he wants. It’s not because he’s spoiled (although he’s that, too) but rather, it’s because he’s persistent. Annoyingly so. Persistent in that way where he doesn’t necessarily earn what he wants, but scores it just because the other party is tired enough to cave for the sake of some peace.

Case example: you.

You sit across from him as he happily sips on his excessively expensive coffee from all the extra syrups.

“How can you have that much sugar?” You cringe.

He raises an amused brow as he hums, “Because I don’t choose to be miserable. You should try it sometime.”

Glaring, you roll your eyes before taking a sip of your own coffee. Satoru is at least nice and chivalrous enough to pay for your coffee—although, knowing what you do now, it’s not exactly as though he can’t afford it. You’re pretty sure being the heir to the company you intern for means he’s loaded in enough money that a simple iced coffee isn’t too much of a dent in his pockets.

You give him an unimpressed frown before getting to the heart of the matter. “Why didn’t you tell me your dad owns the company?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” you hiss, “I’ve been passive aggressively calling you a lazy asshole for two months!”

“Do you change your mind about that?” He asks infuriatingly calmly.

“No,” you admit. You take a long look at him before nodding in confirmation as you repeat, “No, I don’t.”

He pouts a little at that, still cute and aggravating at the same time. “Hey,” he says, only a little wounded and a whole lot excessively dramatic. You can tell he didn’t get a lot of attention growing up with the way he pulls theatrics. Something about the psychology of unmet emotional needs as a child from your one semester of psych in college comes back. “You don’t have to say it so condescendingly.”

“Well, you are lazy,” you point out. He shrugs because…well, it’s a fair point. “But now I know why.”

“So what, if you knew my old man was our big boss, you’d be nicer to me? Is that it?”

You crinkle your nose and give him a look of disbelief. “No,” you say—it’s almost amused. The first ounce of humor you’ve shown around him at all. “But I wouldn’t have wasted my energy caring that you’re a deadweight in the office.”

“Ouch,” he pouts, “I bought the coffee machine on our floor!”

“It’s getting rather faulty,” you hum, “You should consider investing in another one for us.”

Satoru likes that about you. You’re interesting. Interesting not because you’re exceptionally smart or all that impressive—not that you’re bad by any means. Being accepted as an intern here must mean your resume has a degree of prestige to it, but you’re just like any other person in the building. Except, instead of shrugging off his bratty, obnoxious self, you seem to care a great deal about what he does.

It greatly amuses him enough that you’ve sparked his interest.

“You’re fun,” he chuckles, “I like you. You’re not boring.”

“Just what every woman wants to hear,” you bat your lashes, sarcastically giving him a dreamy sigh, “Not boring. How charming of you.”

He grins wider, and something in your heart does a little bit of a clench. It’s so…pretty. Everything about him is pretty. The clean, pristine button down with perfectly ironed pants. The soft, messy hair that somehow adds to his expensive look rather than take away. Those bright, piercing blue eyes that feel like you’re lost in infinity when you look into them.

He’s pretty. Pretty annoying, too—but pretty all the same.

“I’m working on it,” he murmurs.

“What? Your manners?” You snort.

“My charm,” he corrects.

“We might be here for quite some time then,” you tease. You don’t know what it is. Falling into a bantering back and forth with him is so easy—so amusing and, if you’re honest, a tiny bit exciting.

Maybe a background of wealth and fortune makes a man appealing like that. Or maybe he’s just likable. You’re not sure yet.

“You’re saying you’ll be here waiting for me to get there?” He raises a brow, winking as he adds, “So maybe you’re charmed after all.”

“That’s a stretch,” you pretend to scoff. Nevermind the hardly hidden smile on your face—that means nothing. “I just want to watch you fail, that’s all.”

“And if I succeed?” He challenges, looking at you expectantly.

You roll your eyes, deciding to indulge him in whatever petty games he has going on. “In what, being charming?”

“Yes,” he nods, “What if I succeed in being an irresistible dreamboat of an office neighbor?”

“I doubt that’ll happen,” you bite your lip in an attempt to fight back a large, dimpled grin. It’s funny, you think—just up until a few hours ago, all he ever managed to do was pull your lips into a scowl. Now, it feels like it’s impossible not to stretch them into a smile. “But, if it does, I suppose I’ll eat my own words.”

“No,” Satoru shakes his head, lips curled into a serious, unsatisfied frown, “No that simply won’t do. I need better than that.”

“Okay,” you finally laugh. It’s radiant. It comes from your belly and vibrates through your chest. He’s somehow good at it—just one coffee grab during your lunch break, and he’s already managed to earn the sound of your joy so easily. Something about that tickles a weird, unfamiliar spot under your ribcage. “Lay out your terms.”

“You have to be my girlfriend if I manage to make your eyes turn into hearts over my handsomely unbeatable appeal.”

It’s cheeky, his grin. Wide, confident, and still boyishly hopeful. You start to wonder why you ever disliked such an easy to fall for smile.

“That’s pretty bold,” you note.

“I’m bold about the things I want.” You pretend that those words don’t make your heart do a helpless flutter.

“Okay,” you nod, agreeing as you take a final sip of your coffee and hand him the empty cup, “I’ll agree to these unlikely terms. You can start by bringing me another coffee.”

“You got it, boss,” he salutes before doing a giddy little jog to the counter and ordering you another coffee. It’s cute. It has your heart in a scarily fast chokehold.

Somewhere in the heat of the moment, as you watch him fumble over his wallet and almost drop his card while he goes to pay, you think he may have already won the terms to this ridiculous agreement.

But you won’t tell him that, you think. Just to drag out the eager, hopeful look in his eyes that dart over at you and shoot you a sly wink.

———————————

here is part two as promised for @enyathedrakaina bc they sent me cat pics

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I wanna see what’s Ace’s family’s reaction when they found out Ace is dating reader Heheheh

I decided to have only Ace's brother present, since Mr. and Mrs. Trappola have yet to receive strong characterization.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

The Trappola brothers sat across from one another upon red velvet chairs, and you, between them. They were both intently focused on building a house of playing cards—a task that Ace had warned took “serious patience, coordination, and a gentle touch.” (You had rolled your eyes and responded, “Great. You let me know when you’ve found someone that has all that.”)

Ace carefully laid a Two of Spades down, formed a triangle with a Three of Clubs and a Four of Diamonds. His hand slowly retreated, and the triangle stayed. He expelled a sigh, directed away from the cards so as to not disturb them.

You would have clapped for him, but Ace had discouraged you before the game had even started. So instead, you tapped your index and middle fingers together. Still giving applause, but not nearly enough to rattle the house of cards.

“Your move.”

“Huh, you’ve gotten better at this,” his brother mused. He toyed with an Ace of Hearts, expertly twirling it between dexterous fingers. “Too bad. I was really looking forward to smoking you in front of your new friend.”

“In your dreams,” Ace sneered, passing you a glance. “The last thing I’d want is to look uncool in front of my partner.”

His brother drew himself up in his seat. The card in his hand, stilling. “Your partner? Since when were you two a thing?”

“Oh, you know… since a while ago,” Ace casually replied. “And honestly, I can’t really blame’m. Who wouldn’t fall for my dashing good looks and roguish charm? I’m a catch!”

His brother regarded you with an almost pitying look. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” he advised.

You burst into laughter. "I think I'm good. Ace is an idiot, but he's at least my idiot."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you've got a sense of humor. You'll need that if you're going to put up with Ace all of the time. Congrats, you passed the first test."

"Whaddya mean 'put up with' me?!" Ace protested, puffing up his cheeks. A pout--adorable, you think.

"I mean it exactly how I said it. It's practically a full-time job dealing with you," his brother replied cheekily. "You gotta prepare people for it, or else they won't know what they've signed up for."

"Oh, come on! You're making me sound way worse than I actually am."

"This, coming from the guy who ghosted his ex?" He smirked, and you could see the family resemblance in it. The slight narrowing of the eyes, the way his mouth angled. "I dunno, I was half expecting you to stay single forever after that royal screw-up, lil' bro. You're lucky you found someone willing to take you~"

Pink exploded onto Ace's cheeks. "H-Hey...!" he hissed, leaning toward his brother. "Did you seriously have to bring that up?! Have a little more tact, will ya?!"

The older Trappola grinned. "Gotcha."

You realized why.

Ace's sudden movement had sent a slight breeze against the card house. It wobbled from top to bottom--then the structure collapsed in on itself, the cards all folding into one another. Within seconds, the house was a pile on the coffee table.

Ace fell to his knees with a pathetic wail, scrambling to salvage his hard work. His brother looked on, chuckling. A card, still in his hand.

"I didn't place mine yet," he declared triumphantly, "and since you made the house fall, it's technically my win!"

"Y-You sneaky...! You taunted me on purpose!!"

"Yeah, and it worked like a charm." He flicked Ace on the forehead. "You were too busy trying to flex in front of your S/O. It was easy to take advantage of that. You always were a cocky, predictable brat."

"Grrrrr..!!"

"Ace, it's fine," you soothed him, a hand on his arm. "You did your best. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

"Tch, there you go being all sappy again... You're so lame sometimes," Ace grumbled--but he covered your hand with his. A small gesture, but a reassuring one.

"Hahah, look at you two lovebirds," his brother teased, wagging a finger at you. Then he reached out and roughly ruffled Ace's hair, despite his complaints and attempts to swat him away. "Happy for you though, lil' bro! You gotta tell me how this love story started--"

[theannoyingurge]

Continued: Raphael, Bhaal, Withers (yes, even Bone Man is deceiving you) and the Strange Ox (he's lying to everyone, but especially You) Raphael - Knows you stole the crown with Gortash (thanks for the source!). Knows you probably did gross sex stuff with his former prisoner/foster son, whom he is now sending you off to kill. He knows all this and it eats at him, because telling you would make it harder to manipulate you into giving it back. That's His Crown that he wrote 100 chapters of fanfiction about obtaining, and His Stupid Bootlicker to get revenge on, and here he is reciting poetry to You and offering you deals that don't even include selling your soul (at first) and probably listening to you make fun of him at every opportunity. You can tease him about failing to steal it himself, and he pointedly leaves out the key detail that you were one of the annoying mortals who stole it. And then you can fuck his personal incubus and roast him again! Gotta love this game. Bhaal - Was dead for over a century before supposedly crafting Durge from his own gore. Or via 'divine parthenogenesis' depending on the dialog. Sometimes you're called his purest spawn. Other times you are 'spillage'. Whatever the fuck is going on with Durge's conception story, Bhaal is a lying bastard about it. (This one has little to do with amnesia, just carrying the theme of gaslighting my favorite murder woobie.)

Withers - Totally knew who you were from the beginning. Was/Is Jergal, the Lord of the End of Everything and OG god of Death. May or may not still be the BBEG, depending on how far you're willing to look into the future (to get to his ultimate goal of resetting time itself to a backup save of the universe that his super intelligent alien race created just before blowing themselves up and producing a baby God of Death named Jergal.) Jergal was responsible for the construction of ancient Netheril, the growth of the art of Necromancy among humans, the subsequent fall of Netheril (having manipulated Karsus from birth), and the ascension of the Dead Three. He can thus be held personally responsible in several ways for the Absolute crisis - not only for promoting the Dead Three in the first place, but via the crown that his divine grandchild eventually stole from Hell itself and did evil shenanigans with. Fun fact, he used to date Shar and may have incited horrors beyond all comprehension that we can't even list here. He canonically enjoys fucking with Shar and the Dead Three for funsies. He also exploits the Cult of the Dragon to blow up dracoliches in the faces of tyrants who get on his nerves. He might be using his twisted sense of humor for the power of the Greater Good nowadays. (Depends on how closely Kelemvor watches his butler, I guess.) TL;DR: When Withers brings Resist!Durge back from the dead, and claims he is now your advocate in both life and the City of Judgement, he may or may not just be covering his own ass. Whatever he showed Arabella is also sketchy. Don't assume granddad (aka 'The Pitiless One') has gone soft just yet. You are a pawn in a whole new scheme now. But at least this one has family reunions! And they don't even feature incest! You'll catch more flies with honey, Bhaal. The Strange Ox - Okay hear me out. It worships Cyric. End. (Just kidding! This one is itching to break free.) The Strange Ox seems to recognize that you're also a monster trying to be a person, and it uses this weird cameraderie to convince you to smuggle it into the city. The city where Bhaal currently reigns as Lord of Murder, after usurping Cyric ~10 years ago (who usurped him first). It was The Dark Urge who revived the the cult of Bhaal, a feat which presumably entails killing or reforming any existing murder cultists who worshipped Cyric. And now you're bringing his worshippers back, after wiping out Bhaal's temple for him. I cannot believe I'm saying this, but I think Cyric may have won this one. Like, I told my dad to get fucked, but I love that stupid ox. I will never stop gnawing on the letter Withers penned to the Dark Sun at the epilogue party. Please let my puny mortal mind understand it. Please.

Playing with the idea that none of the bg3 villains are fully honest with Durge. Everyone is hiding some piece of the puzzle and happy to abuse the amnesia situation to their advantage. 'Cept Kressa. She's psycho, but she's an honest psycho. In another life, we might have been friends.

Ketheric is the first, most obvious example of this. He doesn't even bother to inform the other Chosen you've reappeared. (Myrkul is the god of exhaustion, so this tracks.)

Balthazar also 100% recognizes you and also doesn't even bother. To him, your amnesia means no tedious reunions with annoying Bhaalspawn who are big mad that he stole their brother's name and rib bones.

The Emperor is sometimes overlooked when piecing together Durge's history, but he admits to knowing your past if you reject him in Act 3 (stating "I know everything about you" while threatening to turn you into a puppet like Duke Stelmane). Whether or not he's posturing, he should at least be aware of your past with Gortash, considering you helped kidnap him in the first place. For evidence, see Gortash's interrogation notes, which open with "When we captured you". (Sure, this could refer to Orin, but I simply do not see these two working as a highly functional team. More on this and the timeline below the cut.) Naturally, despite traveling together for months, The Emperor wouldn't want to fill any gaps in your memory that might cast doubt on his trustworthiness or help align you with his enemy.

The Absolute might be lying about respecting you/your plan and preferring you over your replacement. I am of two minds about this. If you were attacked immediately after crowning the brain, there should be no basis for a preferential relationship. In that case, the brain is just stroking your ego and need for approval. However, I have doubts about Durge being taken down during the initial raid.** I think some time must have passed after crowning the Absolute, giving it the chance to develop a working relationship with you that it lacked with the other Chosen, which caused everything to fall apart after you were tadpoled. This also buys us time to kidnap the Emperor and bring it under the Absolute's thrall as described in Gortash's interrogation notes.

**Some of Gortash's other notes claim Durge was lost during the first raid, but his journals are full of contradictions. He leaves the House of Hope out of his memoirs entirely. He seemingly retcons history to present himself in a more favorable light, which probably includes intentionally diminishing the work of his allies (or erasing the painful memory of his nearest and dearest). In any interpretation, the brain definitely hates Gortash the most, and that's good enough for me.

Orin and Gortash paint somewhat conflicting pictures of you pre-tadpole. The difference here might be genuine (the honest perspectives of a little sister vs a business partner or lover) or it could be a manipulative game of tug of war over your budding and impressionable self image.

Now, I like Durgetash - but I like every possible interpretation of these assholes, not just the mutually reciprocated and/or sexy ones. It's conceivable to me that Gortash may have discovered Durge's crush on him via the Prayer for Forgiveness and played up their history in Act 3 as a defensive measure. Maybe Gortash always knew of Durge's feelings and used them to his advantage (Orin outright tells you this, but again, nobody listens to Orin. Sorry sis).

It's also conceivable that he knew Durge was the first to be tadpoled, considering how close their pod was to his workbench. The brain was given orders to transform the party (that were resisted several times), so Gortash's surprise that Durge still lives makes sense, assuming he even knew Durge was with them (he doesn't seem to be checking the scrying eyes at all. What kind of loser tyrant ignores his own surveillance system? I digress). His general relief and preference for them over Orin is also still valid. (I imagine he feels something along the lines of Durge being the one who got away, you don't know what you've got until it's gone, etc etc. Cue hysterical bonding as the long lost love of his life waltzes into his coronation covered in blood to save him from their psychotic sister and the poorly housetrained Netherbrain they left him full custody of. Yes he wanted full custody, but still.)

Puppy eyes aside, Gortash is a blackhearted pragmatist (he will turn on Durge if they give him the stones) and progress is progress. The first True Soul was an incredible breakthrough, and the show must go on. So just imagine the bricks he's shitting in Act 3 if Durge comes back and remembers the Wrong Things from before the nautiloid. What if they want revenge on him? Nope, not good at all. Best to position himself as Durge's only friend and most trustworthy partner. Regardless of how well he treated them before, Durge was willing to piss off Bhaal to spare his life. That's an extremely useful vulnerability right now, because he's about to ask them to do it again!

Lastly, I have no proof, but I strongly suspect that Sceleritas is fibbing about Durge's past as well. Partly because the Slayer form is severely disappointing in-game and canonically excrutiatingly painful, despite Fel claiming you've always wanted it. It honestly sounds like a way to sell an unwanted used car back to it's amnesiac owner who failed to appreciate it before. Bhaal isn't a full deity any longer, so take what you're given (and you'd better damned well like it!) I also call bullshit on tossing a coin to a beggar being the "worst" crime Durge ever committed against Bhaal (*ahem* looking at you, Gortash). Some dialogue with the Oathbreaker Paladin suggests we've tried somewhat consistently to be good in the past, and Sceleritas has a vested interest in making Durge worse, not planting noble ideas in their freshly lobotomized murder-happy brain.

[redr0sewrites]

k. takami nsfw alphabet

🍊 A/n: wanted to do one of these for a long time hehe! also cannot believe this is my first time writing for hawks like,,,,

🍊 Cw: nsfw, smut, marking, phone sex, breeding kink, mutual masturbation, corruption kink, overstimulation

🍊 dividers

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

the first word that comes to mind is definitely clingy. i think that after sex, especially with someone whom he's very close with emotionally, Hawks is really desperate for physical contact and intimacy. his aftercare game is okay, he'd put in the effort, but he prefers to just relax and cuddle with you and deal with any mess in the morning. i also think he'd prefer to be pampered a bit rather than do the pampering, but if you're too tired i do think he'd take care of you too. falls asleep as close as possible to you, often crushing you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

i think on himself, Hawks struggles a lot with choosing a favorite, but overall i think its his hands. they're a lot softer than the rest of him, since he's always wearing gloves, and he loves that they give you so much pleasure. plus, i think he has like larger hands than most, and they're just very pretty (and he has prominent veins + a bit of hair on his knuckles urgrhrhrhr im deceased). on you, i think he's either a tummy or thighs type of guy. he likes resting on your stomach or thighs because his wings make it difficult to sleep on his back, and he also really enjoys how much your thighs and stomach tremble when you're overstimulated or about to cum. likes leaving hickeys there as well.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

honestly he'll cum anywhere. if you're just a hookup Hawks is pretty normal about it, he'll use a condom and call it a day, but if he's in an intimate relationship with someone i think he'd really like cumming inside or on your stomach or chest. seeing his cum dripping on your body kinda soothes those weird primal bird instincts he sometimes gets- i feel like he would occasionally get super possessive about cumming on you. he also really likes how wet you get when he's already cum inside a few times and can hear soft squelches everytime he thrusts into you, thats just like an oddly specific turn on of his.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

definitely masturbates to the thought of you, probably even before you officially get together. i don't think he's a big fan of porn, so Hawks pretty much only gets off using his imagination. has probably sneaked a few photos of you in a low cut shirt or tight shorts to use for... later purposes. the embarrassment and shame he feels about violating your privacy only turns him on more. in addition to this, Hawks has a v complicated relationship with morality and would probably get turned on by nefarious or risky acts like public sex or something of the like, simply because it would probably ruin his public image.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

experienced in hookups, but not in intimacy, if that makes sense. like sure, Hawks has slept with people, but hasn't had many long term or romantic partners. all this to say, he's experienced with fucking, but not so much with truly making love. either way, he's talented in getting you off, but probably not talented with specific kinks or holding eye contact n stuff- at least at first.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

basic missionary, mating press, or 69ing. he likes seeing your face and reactions, especially if you're in a serious relationship. however, he's also a certified munch and loves giving head so he drabbles in that as well.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

honestly it depends on his mood. sometimes i can see Hawks being very silly and taking it slow, probably when you're more comfortable in the relationship or are feeling especially tired or emotional. however when he's stressed or irritated he's more serious and less prone to joking around. also depends on how you respond, and if his silliness lightens the mood and makes you more comfortable, then he's damn well trying his hardest to please you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

amazing at manscaping. pubes are a little darker than the rest of his hair, probably curl too. he trims but doesn't shave completely, and has a really nice happy trail. probably spends a lot of time on self care,, in addition to this, he probably wouldn't care on whether or not his partner shaves, but would probably have a preference for more hair rather than none.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

at first Hawks isn't great with intimacy but gets better as the relationship progresses. at the start he's mildly awkward and moreso pursuing pleasure than emotional connections, but once he's sure that the relationship is serious than he himself is a lot more romantic. if he truly cares for you than you best believe he's going all out- from rose petals to candlelight, he wants you to know that he cares. i also think he'd be very sweet and considerate during the deed, like even at the start of a relationship he will always make sure he isn't hurting you or making you feel uncomfortable in any way.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

does it a lot. he has a pretty high libido, and he can't be around you all the time, and while he wishes that he could sleep with you whenever he's feeling horny it can't be helped that some nights are spent with him fucking into his fist instead. like ive said before, he's not a big fan of porn and would prefer to jack off to you or photos of you. HUUGEEE on phone sex and mutual masturbation, especially when he's away on hero business, and its so hot to hear him rasping and whimpering into the speaker about how much he misses you and wishes you were there.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

starting off strong, definitely marking. loves to mark you and be marked himself. wears hickeys with pride. also big on overstim, both giving and receiving. its just super hot to him to watch you squirm, but also likes to be fucked dumb as well. mild corruption kink, especially if you're super inexperienced, because most of the time he's probably the more experienced person in any sexual relationship. likes flustering you a lot. some more include praise, especially receiving, and also sensory play, both giving and receiving

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

prefers the bedroom, but would also not mind public sex or perhaps in a cramped space. likes the risk, but it's so inconvenient, especially with his wings. also a fan of bath or hot tub sex

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

lots of things. gets really horny around spring, again, bird instincts, but most of the time it's just you simply existing that gets him going. really likes seeing you in revealing clothes, especially when you're intentionally trying to tease him. big fan of thigh highs or garters, and crop tops that show your stomach. also when you touch his wings or feathers. that is probably the quickest way to turn him on.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i'd say hawks is pretty experimental, but wouldn't want to do anything that he thinks would hurt you too much or make you uncomfortable. i also think he'd be ehh in terms of wax play or fire play for obvious reasons unless you really truly wanted to try it out, but other than that i think he's down for anything you would like to try.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

giver giver giver. as much as he loves receiving, Hawks fucking LOVES to give head, he's absolutely a certified munch and whether or not you have a pussy or dick he's sucking and slurping like its his last meal. loves how you taste, loves when you grind your hips against his face and chin, loves when you cum in his mouth, loves when your thighs squeeze his head. also fucking loves facesitting. please just let him drown between your thighs...

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

honestly his pace varies. when Hawks is pissed off he tends to be a lot rougher and filthier, but he also has a really soft n gentle side too. it depends a lot on how he's feeling and how you're feeling in the moment. i do think he has a lot of stress, especially prewar!Hawks, and so that definitely leads to a lot of rough sex. i also think he likes savoring the moment though, and obviously he loves you a lot so he wouldn't want to hurt you. sure, people say he goes too fast for his own good, but he's more than willing to slow down for you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

loves them. any and every chance he gets, Hawks is more than willing to fuck you. overall the mixture of both risk and passion is very appealing to him, and since he's often super busy, he appreciates any sex you can hve that fits your respective schedules. fifteen minutes before an important meeting? sure, he's got time to spare- he'll sit you on his desk and eat you out/suck you off until your seeing stars with a few minutes to spare.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

definitely big on risk, and is willing to try anything you want to try. however, a lot of his preferences depend on you rather than himself, and so he's also fine with being pretty vanilla in the bedroom as well. really likes teasing you in public or inconvenient places tho,,, half the hero community has caught you both making out at least once or twice

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

out of all the Bnha men he probably has the highest stamina. not only can he last a while, but he doesn't take long to recover after an orgasm. and, in addition to this, more often than not he's focused much more on his partners pleasure than his own so i really see him being determined to make you cum at least three times, if not more. overall he's got great stamina and he's very focused on your pleasure soo,,, A+ partner

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

probably never really thought about using toys on himself, at least until he started sleeping with you. you introduce him to a bullet vibrator and he cums so many times he's shaking n whimpering. when it comes to you, he loves using toys on you to tease you, but prefers to actually get you off using his own body. doesn't mean he won't use them, but prefers to make you cum himself. has a trusty pair of handcuffs that he uses a lot though

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

ohhh all the time. teases you both in public and in private, sometimes when he's not even horny and just for his own enjoyment. teases you a lot in the bedroom as well, and just. loves seeing you squirm. teases you a lot with his feathers too- like you'll be taking a casual stroll when all of a sudden a slim red feather is sliding under your shirt to rest against your chest,,,, how odd! i also think Hawks would tease you a lot unintentionally? like he's rubbing your thigh while he's driving or pulling you into a kiss by the neck and then wondering why you get so hot n bothered. his hand placement is peak, he's incredibly flirtatious even when he doesn't mean to be, and overall he's just. a huge tease. he's a total hypocrite though because Hawks gets soo pouty when you tease him. he's like miraculously surprisingly easy to fluster simply because he's not used to being the one on the receiving end.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

when he's more dominant i don't think he's as vocal as when he's submissive. when he's domming i think you'll hear a lot of groans and dirty talk but overall he's relatively quiet, however when he's subbing he moans and whimpers a lot. i also think he talks a lot during sex, like he babbles about how hot you are and how good he feels even when he's more dominant

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

his wings/feathers + back are very sensitive and a huge erogenous zone ! they're also very expressive and if you watch his wings a lot, it's easy to tell when he's worked up or horny simply because of little tells he has. however they can also be ticklish sometimes, so occasionally during sex he gets a little giggly because the its both pleasurable but also. hes ticklish.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he's big, and very pretty. i'd say at least 7 inches, maybe 7.5 when he's hard. he's got a few prominent veins on the underside of his cock, and a very nice happy trail too. his tip is also a very nice shade of pinky brown.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

his sex drive is pretty high, not insanely so but to the point where he tries to sleep with you at least once a week, but if you're sex drive is very low he's fine with compromising. if you're sex drive is higher than his though? you're absolutely blessed because he's more than willing to fuck wherever and whenever. a personal hc of mine is that Hawks is like especially horny during the spring... bird mating season.... so be prepared. i just think its kinda funny

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

honestly it depends on how quickly you fall asleep. if you want to clean up before going to sleep and get some aftercare done, then sure he'll stay up, but if you want to stay in bed and cuddle and leave the mess till the morning... well he's out like a light.

i love these type of hcs SO much, i have another set for shigaraki and touya on the way.... anywyss ! hope u enjoyed!! PLS SEND IN BNHA REQS RAHH

[dustysalmon]

I've been thinking, can we have a nsfw alphabet about Steb? (or Scar), I haven't seen anything about it yet, so we really need it. (it's really up to you, it can be sfw or nsfw)🙏🏻

Ohhhh anon, I'm so glad you asked. Here we go! (might do Scar and sfw later)

STEB NS//FW ALPHABET

More Steb headcanons

MDNI

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you think that fish-man is going to sleep after doing the do, you are WRONG! King of aftercare, gentle caresses on your skin, cuddles, massage (he uses special techniques he learnt during his paramedical training), and he will also be happy to cook something for you if you’re hungry. If he was a bit rougher than usual, he will kiss every sore spot on your body, for hours if you ask him

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your mouth. He loves everything about your mouth. They way it moves when you talk or smile, the sounds that come out of it when he kisses you or makes love to you. He also loves the things you do to him with this mouth

On himself, he is quite proud of his hands. They’re quite soft, delicate and skilful (you definitely know something about that last one). He likes to use his hands to show you just how much he adores you

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It can get a little messy due to the amount of cum he produces. It keeps dripping and dripping, it’s a lot to handle but the two of you have learnt how to deal with it. Also, Steb always cleans after himself, good fish-man that he is. The refractory period can take a while, though, but he has hands and a mouth for a reason

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves to see his fluids mix with yours, like he has to see it, visually. Something about getting down and dirty

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not all that experienced, he hasn’t been with many people before. The first time you get intimate,  he will map your entire body and commit every detail to memory to learn exactly what you like. His observing skills and ability to learn make up for his lack of experience, nothing to worry about here

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Watching you ride him is his favourite, and nothing comes close. He gets to see your body AND your eyes, and that’s the most important thing to him. He is utterly and unequivocally in love with your body, and he is mesmerised by the way you move on top of him. If you hold hands while you do it, it’s all over for him

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Steb doesn’t play when it comes to sex, he’s very serious (in a romantic way of course), and will be driven by the need to make you feel loved and leave you satisfied. He definitely gets a little goofier during after care

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Steb is completely hairless down there. The only hair you will find is on his head, and he takes great care of those because his species don’t usually have any. He’s quite proud of his undercut, thank you very much

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Romantic like you wouldn’t believe, lots of eye contact because he always wants to make sure that you’re feeling good. Prepare yourself for a lot of intense kissing sessions. His main love language is touch, and no part of your body will be left behind.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He will sometimes indulge in little solo sessions when he takes a bath. It’s a bit of a spiritual exercise for him. One time, you walked in on him jacking off, and asked him to keep going while you touched yourself too. And it has become something you really like doing

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Steb has a bit of a submissive nature, and praise really works for him. Call him a good boy and he will be done for. Sometimes you will say that in the middle of the day just to see him blush furiously. When you ride him, he really likes when you get dominant and pin his wrists above his head, that will turn him into a whimpering mess in no time

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a romantic, so the bed will be his go to. Because of his introverted nature he is not really into risky locations where there would be a chance of getting caught. He won’t say no if you wanna ride him on the couch, though. Also, shower/bath sex, he’s the most comfortable whenever there’s water around

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Kiss that fish-man’s neck once, and you know neither of you will be getting out of the house for the next hour at least. It’s not that his neck is particularly sensitive, but there’s something so sensual about the way you guide his head back to have full access. He will drop whatever he’s doing and pull you into the bedroom

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t mind getting a bit rough, but he won’t slap/hit you, spit on you, or choke you. If he wraps his hand around your neck, he’s very careful not to press against your throat. If you're into that, it's something you will have to talk about

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Steb’s tongue game is unmatched. It’s much longer than humans, very strong, and it doesn’t tire easily. He will make you cum relentlessly with his mouth alone, only occasionally using his hand. He eats you out enthusiastically, moaning while he licks and sucks you all over. And most of all, he will feast on your juices and won’t leave a single drop. He just loves the taste of you

He likes receiving too. He will guide your movements ever so gently and will be extra careful not to thrust into your mouth without warning. His favourite thing is pulling all the way out, and then watch as his sizeable length disappears all the way back into your throat

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Steb doesn’t fuck, he makes love, unless you ask him to be rough. Sensual tender lovemaking all around, slow and deep while maintaining eye contact. He wants you to feel every single one of his ridges inside you

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t mind it, but they’re not his go to. He’d rather take his time with you to show you the depth of his adoration. You usually indulge in quickies if the two of you have busy schedules

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s a very curious guy, always eager to learn, and so he wants to try every position in the book. He loves the idea of exploring his sexuality with you and experimenting. It’s the same when it comes to kinks. If you wish to try something new, he’s down. If it’s something a little extreme, he will have his reservations, but he will try, for you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can last very long, and you usually come multiple times before he does. However, once he has orgasmed, you will have to be patient

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any, but if you have a collection of your own, he’s very curious about it and will ask you how everything works and what it is used for. He will gladly implement them in your sex life

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t really understand the concept of teasing, maybe it’s a species-related thing, but to him, it feels like he’s denying you, hurting you, and he doesn’t like that. Recently, you’ve tried to teach him that denial can be very pleasurable by teasing him during foreplay, and he is starting to understand how that works. It’s a slow process

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Steb doesn’t speak, but he will moan. A lot. He will start grunting when he’s close and his face gills will move as well. If you tease him, it won’t take long for him to whine inside a pillow or into his hand, truly a delightful sound

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sex in front of a mirror, yes please. Again, if he gets to watch you from a different angle, he’s down. Your bodies are very different, but seeing the way they mould so beautifully together, the way your body responds to his and vice-versa, that’s sacred to him 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s hidden in a genital pouch, and frees itself naturally when there’s sex in the air. Not exceedingly thick, but quite long. Multiple ridges which are ideally placed, and fins that are here for your pleasure, and your pleasure only

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

About average, he can go a long time without having sex, it doesn’t bother him. But if you tempt him, tease him, or start nuzzling and kissing down his neck, he will become very needy 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s always the last one to go to sleep because he is on aftercare duty. He just has to make sure you’re okay before doing anything else. He will stroke your head and run his fingers along your skin until you fall asleep. Sometimes, he will even hum a little tune

[eskumii]

Can you pls do platonic yandere sanemi x demon child reader (that is also tanjiros and nezukos younger sibling to)

soft yandere!older brother figure!shinazugawa sanemi x child!demon!reader hcs [platonic]

TITLE: " TURBULENCE " — navi.

A/N: this contains huge manga spoilers in regards to sanemi's past/relationships!! also ,, ty for being patient annonie, if ur still there :') also i accidentally posted this b4 i finished it, so sorry if anyone saw that...

PAIRING: soft yandere!older brother figure!shinazugawa sanemi x child!demon!kamado!reader (platonic)

CHARACTERS: shinazugawa sanemi (21), reader (12), nezuko (14), tanjiro (16)

☆ sanemi hates demons.

☆ that much is clear from the spectacle he made of your older sister, nezuko, at the hashira's headquarters with that horrrible temper of his. needless to say, you don't like him at all and he clearly doesn't like you or your sister, either. it certainly doesn't help that master kagaya seems to have a sour sense of humor as you're now stuck with him as your babysitter.

☆ both tanjiro and nezuko vehemently object to master kagaya's orders. the servants of the residence had to literally rip you from the ironed grips of your older siblings, who were screaming bloody murder as if you'd be separated for the rest of eternity. they were certainly being a tad bit dramatic, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't just as upset.

☆ with the deal set in stone, however, sanemi drags you to his home as begrudgingly as humanly possible and condemns you to one of his spare bedrooms. apparently he lived alone (expected tbh) in a traditional style home, complete with the koi ponds and bamboo deer scares. it's nice, you'll give him that, but his nasty attitude doesn't seem to match the beauty of his residence.

☆ although your living conditions are less than ideal, you're old enough to know that staying under someone else's roof is almost never free. you try (keyword: try) to do what you can to help around the house but sanemi is constantly hollering at you to leave him alone or to not mess with his stuff.

☆ he insists you stay in your room and out of his way, but you still tail behind him from afar out of your debilitating boredom. if he notices, he says nothing, and simply ignores you as if you're not even there. at least when you were with tanjiro and nezuko there was always something to do—sanemi is so boring.

☆ sometimes sanemi gets really angry for seemingly no reason and at any given time. he'll storm outside and take it out on the poor practice dummies that litter his backyard, grunting in oblivious rage when he accidentally kicks one of their heads off. you're not sure what it is about you that makes him so angry; you've kind of already ruled it out as his perpetual state of being.

☆ and, well, sanemi doesn't... hate you. you remind him so much of his younger brother, genya, and most of his anger is only borne out of pain. as the eldest of the family he once knew, it's not like the instincts he acquired to take care of his siblings just went away. you simply remind him of who he used to be and the weaknesses that tore his family apart make him inexplicably angry.

☆ considering your resemblance to his late younger siblings (and genya), sanemi does get protective over you in his own ways. sometimes you meddle too close to the windows during the day, so he'll yell at you to move. or sometimes when you're scarfing down the raw meat he gives you, he yells at you to slow down lest you choke.

☆ it may seem like he's not paying attention to you at all, but he's always peeking at you with watchful eyes. he's notices that you like to watch him train but can't be out in the sun, so he hung up a blanket in the branches of a nearby tree without saying a word to you. you smile knowing that you're growing on him.

☆ during the evening, sanemi often catches you out in the garden picking flowers. usually he'd shrug his shoulders and turn his nose up, but he felt compelled to see what you were doing out there all the time. plus, he couldn't have you wandering out beyond the walls.

☆ "what're you doin', kid?" sanemi's booming voice scares you and you drop your basket of colorful flowers on the ground with a squeak. you scramble to gather them again and you're surprised to see a pair of scarred hands helping out, too.

☆ "i'm gonna make flower crowns for when tanjiro and nezuko get back." you answer once all the flowers are back in the basket. sanemi snorts. "flower crowns?"

☆ you nod. "yup! here, i'll show you how to make one." sanemi has zero time to refuse as you grab his hand and pull him down onto the grass with you. you take a length of string that you had stolen from one of his many rooms of junk and began to attach the flowers to it with a clever weaving pattern.

☆ sanemi is fuming in embarrassment as you eagerly teach him how to make a stupid flower crown. this is ridiculous. but why can't he just get up and leave? when you hand him the string of flowers to try it out for himself, your childish giggling is contagious as he fumbles clumsily and accidentally crushes the delicate stem in his callous grip.

☆ in the end, sanemi finds himself enjoying making flower crowns with you, but he threatens you violently with a ruffle of your hair should you tell anyone about it. he would never admit it but as he looks at the crudely made flower crown that you helped him with, he feels a distantly familiar feeling of warmth igniting in his heart again.

☆ the rest of the days you spend with sanemi begin to feel more pleasant than it did initially. sanemi no longer leaves you to your own devices, but instead tries to find things for you to do during the day when you can't go outside. he'll bring you puzzles and teach you how to read with children's folktales written on tarnished scrolls that he said he kept from his old family home.

☆ you're not sure what happened, but sanemi dotes on you now. once you had tripped and split your finger open, and sanemi rushed to your side like it had been your head. it healed within a few seconds, but sanemi still scolded you for walking around unsupervised.

☆ and when you get feverish due to your refusal of eating human flesh, which is often, sanemi tarries by your side day and night in order to make sure you're as comfortable as can be. cold, damp towels on your forehead, fresh raw meat at your bedside, and anything else you want, he gets for you. the worry etched into the lines of his forehead shows how much he cares about you.

☆ by the time tanjiro and nezuko return from their mission to collect you, sanemi doesn't even want to let you go. in fact, you've both grown attached to each other and while you're overjoyed to see your siblings again, sanemi has also become something like an older brother to you. you've grown to love the big residence and his presence.

☆ you're in tears as sanemi pats your head and smiles crookedly at you for what feels like the last time. you beg tanjiro to let you stay longer but he firmly tells you no. sanemi makes tanjiro promise that he'll take you to visit him or else he'll kill him (he's serious).

☆ when you inevitably depart from sanemi (tanjiro has to pry you away from him), he feels about as lonely as the day is long. the residence feels too big without you following behind him like his own shadow, and every time he turns a corner he half-expects to find you doing something to cause trouble.

☆ sanemi takes the flower crown you both made and seals it in a glass jar. he hopes that you'll visit again before it withers, or else he might just go out and find you himself.

[dementiadad]

Truth ❤😩

[cherry-leclerc]

don’t lock the door ☆ cs55

genre: fluff, humor, smut, angst, thriller/suspense, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of homicide, erotic literature, tragedy

word count: 9k

An oleander is beautiful—yet deadly. You’re beautiful—yet deadly. But Carlos has always been gentle, and has always known how to take care of things he loves. And even if he doesn’t, he’s willing to learn, just for you. But you can’t outrun secrets. Not when they have everything to do with the only thing he adores—you.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... fingering, riding, car sex

STOP AND READ:

The story you are about to read is not meant to be admired or looked up to. Regularly, the types of fics that I like to present to all of you are light, humorous, and sweet. While I feel that this story does have occasional glimpses of that, it also deals with heavy topics such as; suicide, depression, and homicide. At the end of the day, I care about all my readers, so if any of you feel like this is not something for you then you are always welcomed to head over to my masterlist for much lighter reads. You all know me by now, so you must know that sometimes I like to mix a story of traditional love with a dash of real life struggles, such as trauma and guilt, in this case. With that, I hope you enjoy word for word.

cherry here!...did you miss me????

Tension is normally one’s enemy. It’s fairly simple, you try your best to avoid what makes your skin crawl. Isn’t that how the story goes?

Not quite. 

There’s tension, yes, but it's only because you’re the opposite sex. Nothing beyond that. It could also be because you’re both introduced to each other as a pair of miserable singles. Lewis is the person you share in common.

She’s a close friend, he proclaims as you two shake hands. The touch is sticky, just like hot glue— and for a minute—it feels like a knife cuts this invisible strain in half. He lets himself salivate over your lioness stare; dark, sharp, amorous. You lean towards him just the same; dominant, mature, suggestive.

I’ve seen you race.

He hums, still attached to your desirable touch. Yeah? Why haven’t I seen you then?

Fingers press sternly against his warm skin, as if to provoke him more than he already feels himself falling into. It should be alarming the way his mind slips into a frenzy because of it, but likes it. The rush. 

Maybe because I wasn’t rooting for you.

There. Right then, he disconnects. I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case.

You grin. Well, now you know. 

“You know what? Mingle—”

“Who says mingle?” you and Carlos question at the same time, judgemental eyes staring coldly. 

Lewis blushes. “I-I-Is that not a thing anymore?” Silence. “Fuck, I really am getting old...”

The night consists of mimosas, because according to you, it reminds you of your late-mother. “She liked something fruity, but also fun enough to make her head spin. It was entertaining to watch.”

“How so?”

“She’d ramble on and on. Slurred about her dreams.” A sad smile. “That’s the only reason why I ever found out she wanted to become an author. She was fifty—five decades too old—but she said she wanted one last adventure before retiring. It didn’t even matter if she made it onto the New York Times Best Seller list.”

The way your eyes even out, round and almost doughy, makes him trip for a second because this is not the same girl he shook hands with nearly three hours ago. No, this version of you was almost childlike, but he supposes that's how everyone who loses a parent becomes. 

It comes out shy—closed off—your laugh. As if you just caught yourself being too vulnerable. That was always the worst. “Look at me making you my therapist. I have got to stop doing that.” 

His mouth opens lamely, ghostly scoff sitting upon his lips. And if it were to be released, it wouldn’t hurt your feelings. It was a weird thing to note. “I like hearing you talk.”

A beat. “We’ve only just met.”

Carlos grins, crinkles tracing the corner of his eyes like some beauty. “Then let's meet some more.”

The opportunity is there, the kind you’ve been looking for. With a sheepish smile, you nod. “I should warn you though, I’m a bit of a mess.”

Finally, the scoff escapes. And like envisioned, you laugh at the sound.

“Consider me warned.”

-

He fucked you that same night in the back of his car. It was late, so dark that you barely even had the chance to register the fact that you squirted all over his vintage Ferrari. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he pants as he snaps his hips up again, fast motion making you head loll bad. You wonder what he means, but as soon as his long fingers circle your swollen bud, you’re just as good as gone.

He asked you out an hour later, when he dropped you off right in front of your apartment. You happily accepted, unable to hide your excitement. 

Your smile falters. “Give me a reason as to why I should say yes.”

“Um, well, you sort of already said…yes?”

The confusion that settles onto his handsome features makes you glow with satisfaction. “I could always change my mind. Pretend this night never even happened.”

Panic rushes harshly against his shoulders. He doesn’t even know why he cares so much, but he does. 

Vulnerability is a bitch. 

“Huh,” he hums, relaxing against his seat, head hitting the expensive cushion. And you can see it. The challenge. He clicks his tongue, bored all of a sudden. “Listen, I want you, but I certainly don’t need you.”

You realize right there and then—you met your match. 

You realize right there and then—you two share the same green pride. 

You realize right there and then—

“It was nice getting to know you.” 

-

The only reason you’re even friends with someone like Lewis is because your mother married rich.

Filthy fucking rich. 

Then, somehow, married richer by her third and last marriage. The man was twisted, but you never knew just how much. Not for a very long time. 

He dabbled in stocks, or some boring shit like that, and later invested in some other crap. Somewhere along the line, you met the Brit. 

The same Brit who now hisses at you through the phone. 

“God damn it, what happened? Weren’t you two getting along?”

You sigh, rubbing your feet together as you admire the way the navy blue paint covers your pedicured nails. Stormy clouds match your mood as you shake the bottle of pills that lay on top of your desk. 

“He’s too vain.”

He groans. “You my dear, dear friend, are looking into a mirror then, I suppose.”

A sharp gasp. “Are you insinuating I’m the same?”

“If the shoe fits…”

“May I remind you that you sit and stare at yourself for God knows how long before any race? Newflash, dickhead, you’re going to sweat, look like shit, and one out of ten times, you’re going to win.”

“I see I triggered something.” He sighs heavily. The sound tells you he’s not really upset or anything, but more so worried. Ever since she died, you’ve been that way. 

Snappy. Defensive. 

“Hey, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. I know you.” 

And although he can’t see, you still smile fondly. Rattling the bottle of antidepressants, you inch up higher and higher onto your chair until you face your own reflection. Shattered glass stares back at you as you feverishly look down. 

“Do you still have an extra pass to this weekend's race?”

-

There had to be something wrong with you. Everyone could tell, and quite frankly, you could agree. Would you admit to it out loud? No, now that’s something different. Or maybe you’re just odd. That would also make sense. Whatever it was, it would explain as to why everyone around you screams with excitement as the fast cars fly by. You, on the other hand, simply stare with straight lips and empty eyes.

While all clap cheerfully when Lewis finishes on the third step, you cross your arms. While everyone runs out of the Mercedes garage to declare front row, you drag your feet slowly to the last. 

While Carlos makes eye contact as he lifts his trophy—notably bigger than the Brits—you yawn.

You’re not impressed.

She’s not impressed, the Spaniard remembers thinking to himself as he smiles wider towards the stacks of cameras that turn him temporarily blind. He selfishly thinks you’re here for him, but he knows that's straight bullshit. Truth be told, it didn’t seem like you were here to support your friend either.

“It’s been so long,” Lewis huffs in disbelief as you stare across with vacant eyes. To him, you’re simply jetlagged. “Can you believe it?”

An exhale. “You did good.” Extending your legs outward, you admire the black tiles that shine back brighter than if it were to be white. “Drinks. On me.”

The Brit laughs. “Deal.”

-

Somewhere close by, they play jazz. 

“Pretty,” you softly speak as you connect your lips to the glass. The live band sways back and forth, only adding to the charm you seem to like. And you like it a lot. “Dance with me.”

Lewis snickers. “I love you to death, but I’m gonna have to go with no.”

You frown. “Come on. I never ask you for anything.”

“You were born with a golden spoon and have used retinol since you were ten, you’re not allowed to ask for anything when you’ve already had everything.”

“Yeah…well not this.” You’re secretly envious of every lady in the room. The way they beam with sincere smiles at their husbands. Boyfriends? Flings? Affairs? Who cares honestly, you were jealous nonetheless. 

The Mercedes driver watches as your fingers lazily tap against your lap, as if signaling you’re free. Guilt slithers down his neck as he sighs in defeat. “Fi–”

“Nice seeing you two here.”

Lewis wants to cry with utter thankfulness as Carlos inches closer with a lousy grin. “Hey! Oh God—hey.” You blink. “Wh-what are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining, of course, because I’m not.”

The Spanirad shrugs. “I won. Wanted to celebrate, I suppose.” Brown eyes flicker towards you like thunder and suddenly you feel naked under his gaze. You swallow. “You look nice.”

And there it is again—tension.

He cocks his head to the side, almost as if waiting for a compliment of your own. Instead, he finds himself being ignored. Crossing your legs, you lift the empty glass up as the bartender hurries for a refill. 

Finally, Lewis speaks up. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay—”

“Who says hay?” you and the brunette spit out with snarkiness. You bite back a smile while he releases a chuckle. 

The Brit stands up, chugging the rest of his drink as he waves you two off. “I’m not that old,” he shouts as he turns the corner and disappears. 

Carlos takes the time to catch up on your appearance. Last time he saw you, you had longer hair, now it appears you’ve had a trim. He likes it. You were slightly tanner, but now appear a shade lighter. It could just be because it’s winter. It's nice seeing other versions of you. 

“So, how have you be—”

“Why are you still here?”

He freezes. It takes him a while to find the strength to open his mouth. 

“We never finished our conversation.”

-

He didn’t fuck you that night, no, he took you dancing. And maybe that’s why it worked this time around. Instead of taking the time to learn all the different types of moans you have, he took the time to learn all about your upbringing. 

I learned how to bike when I turned six. Had severe trust issues for a year, so I tried again when I was seven.

That must be where your scars are from, he thinks to himself, but he finds them endearing.

I like long hair, I find it beautiful, but as soon as it’s starting to grow out I think it looks too weird on me. 

That must be why your hair is shorter than he remembers, but he loves it. Has the urge to run his fingers through.

My favorite movie is How Harry Met Sally, but quite frankly, I don't find Harry attractive at all, so I never really understood why Sally settled down with him after so long.

And you’re honest. Brutally honest. And he finds that attractive.

“How about you, Mr. Singapore?”

I learned how to kart before I learned how to bike, actually. I, too, have scars on my hands from small crashes. 

You blush as you hide yours beneath your coat. 

I have two sisters, so I mainly learned how to dance because of them. I hated it at the time, but now I’m quite grateful.

Is it possible to swoon harder?

And I don’t have a favorite film, necessarily, but I’ve watched How Harry Met Sally, and I would agree. Sally was too good looking for him. 

You have to laugh. “Is that so?”

He smiles. “The name Harry sounds so…” He winks cooly before running a hand through his locks. You giggle. “He looks more like a Bob.”

“Oh my God! Could you imagine? How Bob Met Sally?” You pause. “Wait, that actually doesn’t sound half bad…”

He chews on his bottom lip slowly, nodding in agreement. Silence engulfs you two as you stare at each other with round eyes. He’s the first to crack a loopy grin and you quickly follow with a sheepish one. Then, it vanishes and he’s left looking like he swallowed a frog.

“Listen, about last time…”

“Long forgotten.”

He halts, almost surprised by your response. “No, no, there’s no need to pretend, I was a—”

“Jerk?”

The Spaniard rolls his eyes. “Great, so you haven’t forgotten.”

You shrug. “I’m a girl. We remember everything.”

“Got it,” he declares. “Ask me again.”

Now it’s your turn to freeze. “What?”

“Ask me why you should say yes to a date with me.”

“You don’t have to do this, we’re good—”

“I know we are, but I still want you to ask.”

You lick your lip anxiously before relaxing your stiff shoulders. He tilts his head as if urging you and you nod. “Why should I say yes to you?”

Satisfaction settles. “Because you like a good challenge.” He leans closer. “And isn't that what this is?”

-

Carlos Sainz Jr. was made for you.

“Leave me alone,” you scream, veins throbbing, as you rush past him, heading towards the guest room. You’re glad his parents aren’t home at the moment because Lord knows the embarrassment you would feel.

“No. Not until you talk to me.” As simple as that. Your eyes twitch as you turn back, then bring your hands up to your hips. He adores it when you do that, though he probably shouldn’t right now.

“You want to talk?” You let out an unhinged scoff. “Oh, would you look at that, he wants to talk! Now he wants to talk. Well guess what, fuckhead—I don’t.” 

With that, you march out into the balcony. His eyes follow the way you light up a cigarette. The way you drink the last drops of champagne that linger in the bottle gifted to you by his mother. 

She was kind. She was beautiful. She didn’t deserve someone being this mean to her son.

You barely recognize him because of how blurry your vision is, but his scent does it. Musky. Woody. Calm. 

He hands you the familiar pill, then a glass of water. He rushes the champagne away, then takes the cigarette and squashes it against the cold floor. He doesn’t so much call you out for being a lunatic, for upsetting his dogs with all your yelling, or for pushing him. No, he doesn’t do any of that. And you have never been more in love with him than now.

“I know I can be a bit much sometimes…” A sniffle. “I swear I try to catch onto it so you don’t have to deal with any of this, but—”

“You don’t mean it.” He tangles his fingers through your hair as you sob. And it’s soft despite spending the entire day near the ocean. It feels silky. He’s obsessed. “I know you.”

-

You were made for Carlos Sainz Jr.

“How do I look?” 

“Like an angel.” He swears he turns bright red when you blow him a kiss. “Your name must’ve been Bonita in another life because look at you…” A hand flies up to clutch onto his heart as he makes a face. “Though, I must say, you do know how to make me look bad.”

You giggle. “Oh? This old thing? I thrifted it. Nice, eh?”

He groans. “Very, but you’re supposed to be rooting for Spain.” A gag. “Not Italy.”

You frown. “That's all I had. Plus, you’re basically Italian given your working status.”

“No, amor, they pay me to like Italy. It’s a cover up, think about it.”

You huff, popping your hip outward. “Still. I like it, so I’m wearing it while cheering for the opposite team.”

“Always over complicating things.” He laughs. “Can’t say I’m surprised, you’re a complicated person.”

A deadpan expression. “Suck your own dick.”

“Oi, relax.”

Spinning to face the mirror, you fix your jersey one last time before skipping out the door, tube socks sliding as you go. The Spaniard lets out a dreamy sigh. 

Were you flawless? Not at all.

Were you put together? Not without a prescription.

But he loved figuring it all out with you. And that’s called love.

-

You’re in the middle of a rampage, during dinner. While everyone stares at you puzzled, he simply laughs at your cartoon expressions. 

“I mean, I offered!” A pout. “I clearly stated I could get the cap signed for her and she gave me the nastiest, ugliest, dirty-looking glare! I for sure thought her face was permanently damaged.” You relax against the chair, your shaky hand finding its way to your water bottle. “Like sorry for riding your favorite driver…”

Charles laughs nervously. “I don’t think that was a necessary thing to include…” 

You shrug, raising your brows over to your boyfriend who struggles to breathe. 

The conversation flows easily, like most nights you're all together, but this time there’s a minor bump. You’ve been good about it; avoiding the question for so long. Over the course of time, you’ve managed to be so mendacious, that truly no one knew the truth. Not even Carlos.

“I hope it’s not overstepping, but how did your mum pass?”

He means no harm, Lando, but you just wish so badly that you could believe that. While Carlos and Lewis were the closest thing you have to a family nowadays, even they knew not to ask. You never laid the rules out loud, but they could tell it was an unwanted topic to have on your behalf, no matter how curious they got. 

All of a sudden, your mood deteriorates. The look in Lando’s eyes makes sure to strike off as an apology, but you’re so busy looking down onto your lap that you don’t even pinpoint the meaning. The table grows awkward as time ticks by. 

No one has the power to change the subject, save you the same way doctors tried to save your mother—because they, too—wonder. 

You gulp, feeling small, but far too seen at the same time. It was confusing. “She, um…her last husband…” Everyone feels bad, like you’re some limping puppy, zigzagging down an empty highway, but remain quiet. Then, you look up, stone cold but the tip of your rosy nose and blotchy face is enough reassurance that you still have a beating heart.

“Husband number three strangled her to death.”

You say it like you don’t care. Like it hasn’t affected you at all, and that makes Carlos blink twice as fast as everyone else in the table. A droplet makes its way down your cheek as you let out a light laugh. 

“I guess he thought he was some Superior God who had a say in cutting her time short.”

They all freeze. 

“I am so sorry for asking—” 

“I didn’t need to respond.” You smile lamely. “It’s fine, Lando.”

But it’s not, not even close. They ripped the confession out of your throat, at least that’s what it felt like. No one stepped up, no one said anything. 

Your eyes flicker to the only man who makes your heart speed. 

He reaches for your hand and you grip it hard.

No one said anything.

Not. Even. Carlos.

-

You’ve always excelled at holding a grudge. It came fairly simple. 

But as you stare at him through the screen, for the first time—and only the first time—you struggle. Maybe it’s his puppy eyes that betray you, or his gentleness anytime he steps near you, you don’t really know. 

And you don’t want to.

“I was thinking mariscos.”

Hair flies past your eyes as you squint. He looks particularly handsome today, wearing a linen shirt that drapes over him like some silver armor. Long waves brush against his temples as he returns the squint, slightly smiling at your lips. 

“Sounds good to me.”

Soft music roams the isolated restaurant that almost seemed to belong to just you two, and that helps you relax. You could tell it helps him too. 

“The car felt good today.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, biting onto a piece of shrimp. “Felt like I was flying.”

You let out a whistle. There’s a comfortable silence that lingers for a while before you raise a brow up to the open sky. “Hey,” you start as his orbs flicker up with all the attention in the world. “Do you believe in angels?”

A moment. “I’d say so, yes. Yes, I do.”

Hum. “You sound freakishly sure.” You inch forward with teasing eyes. “Why?”

“Easy.” Chocolate orbs swirl with adoration. “There’s you.”

“I don’t count.”

He frowns. “And why not?”

“Because you love me, of course you’d say that only to be nice.”

“I say so because I know so.”

“Love is blind, love is blind,” you chant, sipping on his open can.

A second ticks by. “Why do you ask?”

And like the first night he met you, your eyes merge into doe eyes. “Because I do.” A sheepish grin. “And sorry to disappoint, but it’s not you.” 

“What’s his name?” he jokes.

But you’re not even listening. “My mom was pure. She was a good person, Carlos.” A beat. “She’s my forever angel.”

His heart physically hurts at your glossy eyes, immediately reaching for your hands. “You must really miss her…”

A wet laugh. “Is there a word stronger than ‘really’? If there is, then that would be one way to say it.”

And he has to apologize, even if it’s seven days too late. 

“I’m sorry for not stepping in that night. I-I-I should have said something and you should have said nothing.” Thick brows knit in together. “You don’t know how shitty I felt, but—”

“You wanted to know as well.”

The way his features freeze is enough confirmation. And you can't be mad. Not even a little. Not even a lot. 

“That doesn’t make you a bad person, Carlos. I should have been more open and honest with you first.” A gust of hot air slaps you across the face. “I tend to shut out people like you because…I don’t know.”

“Vulnerability is a bitch?”

You laugh. “That’s one way to say it.” Orbs scan his beauty with no shame before falling back. “You still have plenty of questions, don’t you?”

“O-of course not.”

Another laugh. “It’s okay. You caught me in a good mood. Go on.”

He’s awkward at first, but slowly eases with the sound of your breathing. “Why hasn’t he been arrested?”

“Because he’s a multi-billionaire.”

He gulps and you blink. “Why haven’t you sued?”

“Because I’m not a multi-billionaire.”

“So…he did a cover up with a wad of cash?”

“Mhm. No one dared ask whose hand shaped bruise was imprinted in her neck.”

He’s caught off guard by your bluntness, but he knows he needs this because he knows it will keep him up the same ways it’s kept him up since that god forbidden dinner. 

“This was the cause of your…” He doesn’t even want to finish his sentence.

“Depression…yeah. Losing someone you love will do that to ya.”

But he wants to ask—he wants to ask more because he knows there has to be more. He’s lost people he loves too—and he loved them very much—and he never got this way. In a flash, he feels guilty for comparing his healing process to yours but quickly looks down onto his lap. 

And the hot summer rain is enough warning for him not to question you any further. 

The Spaniard shares a grateful smile. “Thank you for trusting me. To take care of you, and all t-that,” he stutters, blushing.

“I love you, Carlos.” A beat. “I’ve always trusted you. The only person I don’t trust is myself.”

-

“Be quiet,” she hisses, urgently signaling you closer. “And make sure to shut the door.”

Confused, you hesitantly push until you hear a click. Inching closer to your mom, you slowly become more and more lost as you eye the scattered papers all over your step-dads office table. “What is all this?”

Color drains from her normally youthful face. Even the brightest shade of red can’t help add life. “Proof of embezzlement.”

“What?”

She slides stacks of black folders towards you and you quickly flip through, to which you don’t understand a single thing. “He’s stealing money, that’s what. We’re not talking thousands, we’re talking millions,” she whispers frantically before growing green. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Okay, okay, hold on, you’re okay.” Rushing to be next to her, you clumsily tie her hair up into a messy ponytail before fanning her with the white sheets. You wince, quickly placing them back down. “How did you even come across this?”

Just as fast as a lighting bolt, she spins the chair. “I’m starting my book—” She gags, “I was supposed to start today, but I came in here looking for his typewriter. You know, the one with the tiny cherubs?” Across the office, you spot it, the tiny angels delicately painted onto the infamous typewriter. You nod. “Well, I started to search for some paper and instead found all of this…”

Even you grow dizzy as you eye the infinite zero’s that jump out against all types of sums. That’s not even enough to spend in ten lifetimes. It was no wonder he just recently made it onto The Forbes list. Her eyes—honest as ever—make you panic as you twirl your thumbs. “Wait…you’re not thinking of confronting him about it, are you?”

“I have to.” Pause. “Right?”

No. You don’t want her to. Not in any scenario. It’s taken you both so long to reach the life you deserve, and now that you were finally here it’s about to be ripped away from you? Your lack of words makes her glare. 

“I don’t know why I’m asking you, I have to! It’s the right thing to do.”

Adrenaline. “Mom, just think about it—”

“I did not raise you to be avaricious,” she spits out, fire practically fuming out of her.  You flinch. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Y-you’re right.” There goes all your money down the drain. “I’m with you no matter what.” 

Knock knock.

Like mother-daughter, you both freeze as your eyes flicker to the sound. 

“Angelica, are you in there?”

You never liked the name Angelica. Not on anyone else that wasn’t your Angelica. 

Running over to open, she finds herself face-to-face to Lucifer himself as he cocks his head in humor. “Locking me out of my own office now?” He enters. “Fun.” Dark eyes roam the messy area. “Fun.”

Her eyes plead with you in a language only you both knew, but never did you mean to obey. You wanted to stay with her—something told you to stay with her. 

“Honey, give us some privacy, yeah?”

“U-uh…” He winks like that was the go-ahead. Like that was the last permission you needed to agree. And maybe it was. 

Deep down it’s almost like you knew he had sinister intentions. Deep down it’s almost like you knew he was capable of committing those sinister intentions. 

Deep down. 

It’s like you don’t even care.

You smile, tight lipped. “Whatever you need.”

You heard the argument that night, you heard the threats. You heard her pleads, you heard her chokes. You could only imagine what was going on inside, but you were your mothers daughter. You could imagine quite a lot. 

She could’ve been an author—with his resources she might just have hit the New York Times Best Seller list. She could have been a grandmother one day—surely your kids would have lived a luxurious life. 

She could have been obedient. Why wasn’t she obedient? Was it so hard to brush it all under the rug?

He was sweating, just as much as a pig. Or maybe he’s glowing, he is smiling after all. Here and there he apologizes in a lousy manner, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was—

“How much money am I gonna get to keep?”

He’s intrigued. “How much do you want?”

“Enough to not have to worry.” You can still see it; cramped rooms, tin canned meals on paper plates. You could never go back.

An eye roll. “You’re just like her…” A beat. “Fucking greedy.” You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You’re embarrassed—-of course you were—who is he to judge? He sighs. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“It means I’m not transferring you anything. I want you out of this house no later than Sunday.”

Plump lips open, then snap shut, teeth gritting. “I’ll tell everyone that you’re a murderer. You’ll lose it all, w-watch.”

He’s not phased. Not even in the slightest. “And who’s going to believe you? Tell me, really, because I’d like to know.”

Fuck him for having everything. Fuck him for having everything. Fuck him for having everything.

And fuck yourself for having nothing at all—again.

Months swept by, the death was ruled a suicide, and antidepressant became your loyal friend. There was no one else, and sometimes you feared there would always be no one else. 

Then—by some miracle—there was Carlos.

He was handsome. He was shy. He was sweet. He was kind.

He was rich.

You played hard to get, but so did he. You played the long haul, but so did he. You were a fantastic liar, but he was an ever better believer.

And it all clicked.

Just the way it was supposed to.

-

You’ve been accustomed to a certain lifestyle for years now, but somehow you’re always surprised about the sudden boost you’ve switched to ever since you’ve met him.

Chanel heels turned into red bottoms. Last season dresses turned into those that were not yet  released. You loved everything about it.

“You look so beautiful, cariño,” he groans against your lips, desperate for more. His large hands play with the silky fabric, fighting to slide it up against your hips. You shudder. “I mean…come on.”

“Hey, hey—that’s sweet and all—” You push yourself closer to his toned body, immediately feeling his erection. You nearly whimper.  “But why don’t you fuck me instead?” A kiss. “You missed me, no?”

And instead—he whimpers. “How dare you even ask?” 

With that, he picks you up with ease, pinning you against the wall. You’re dizzy, because unbeknownst to him, he’s casted a spell on you. Never did you think you could fall in love, much less, have someone reciprocate. 

Tender fingers make their way to your clit as you lunge forward, biting down onto his shoulder. It should amaze you how he holds you up with one arm, but you’re not. If anything, you leak more and more by every passing second. 

His dirty pants make you fold as you clench around him. The way they curl, the way they pulse, all of it was your kryptonite. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you squeal, keeping your eyes trapped shut, feeling the familiar knot forming. He grins, pecking your sweaty forehead, digits speeding up. Berry lips form an O as you moan louder with every push.”I-I’m c-c-close—oh God.”

“Shh. It’s okay, let go for me, yeah? I’m right here with you.” 

Gritting your teeth harder, you moan like some pornstar as you finish all around him. Almost like some rule, he desperately sucks his fingers clean. The Spaniard hums like he’s living his biggest dream of all before opening his round eyes. 

“So sweet.”

You blush. “Yours tastes like shit.”

He laughs. “And yet you beg for me to finish all over your face, isn’t that so?”

Nearly choking at his bluntness, you fight back a smile as you play with his floppy locks. They’ve grown so much from the last time you saw him, so this was certainly eye candy to you. He sighs, relaxing as you continue to twirl thick strands around your fingers.

Soft legs still drape over his waist, hands still lay around your waist, and even breathing connects you both. Carlos feels like he’s nearly dozing off, but his hand remains firm, preferring to take a bullet than to let you fall. 

You like to think that you like his lashes the best. But then there’s his eyes. And his nose. And his heart. And his lips. And his hands. And his sculpture body. And his jokes. And his laugh. And his freckles. So you never could choose, not truly.

Inching closer to his ear, you smirk slowly. “Wanna fuck my mouth?”

His eyes snap open, jaw clenching. “You’re such a tease.”

A shrug. “Want to or not?” You bite your lip, legs letting go of his hips as you slide down. “Because this offer ends in five…” He raises a skeptical brow. “Four…” You motion him closer to which he steadily follows. “Three…” He laughs. “Two, one!”

Sprinting up the stairs in a flash, you giggle as he chases after you. The sound of his steps make your heart beat faster as you jump onto your shared bed. Rushing past the corner, he cocks his head to the side as he clicks his tongue. Stepping into the room carefully, he swung the door closed before locking it. You frown.

“Reassures me that no one will walk in.”

“No one will walk in,” you whisper as your stomach drops. “There’s no need t-to—”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees, taking in your breathless state. “But I prefer it this way. Just you.” A closer stride. “And me.”

Palms are sweaty. Blood slithers down your throat and thighs. And yet your freeze. You feel hot and cold, all at once. You don’t like the feeling, any of it, but you try to ignore the inner monologue. 

“You look stunning,” he states, finally reaching you. “You always do.”

Your speeding heart lessens. “T-thank you.” 

A beat. “You’re not nervous—are you?”

Hastily, you shake your head. “N-no! Of course not!”

Thick brows knit together. “Because you normally aren’t.” His smile fades. “W-we don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to, you know that right?”

Physically, you’re cringing. Mentally, you’re spiraling. The act itself makes the Spaniard withdraw, taking a steady step back and shaking his head. Panic rises fast as you crawl closer to him, reaching the end of the bed. 

“I just have a lot on my mind, but I want this.” A beat. “I want you.”

It’s as if you’re a blank sheet of paper, blinking up at Carlos with such innocence. So much so, it makes his heart stop. He looks for reassurance, which you give him, and he looks for it again, which you give again without hesitance. 

“Come on, Carlitos…” you slowly whisper, batting your eyes. “I know you’ve missed my mouth.”

If you weren’t so breathtaking, if you weren’t so seductive, if you weren’t so goddamn tempting then surely turning you down wouldn’t be an issue. By alas, you’re here—and even better—you’re all his. 

“Eres un sueño.” It seems like an eternity passes by before he finally steps close to you once again, getting rid of whatever distance you ever had. Like it was never meant to be there to begin with. “Can I kiss you first?”

It’s sweet that he feels the need to build up to fucking you sore, but sweet nonetheless. That’s one thing you love about him—and there’s a lot to choose from—his respect towards you. Smiling warmly, you extend your arm, inviting him like an angel before he smashes his lips against you like the devil.

The contrast. It’s just what you needed.

“God, I fucking love you.” 

“I—” His lips press harsher as he continues marking his territory. All of it was making your head spin like a rollercoaster. “I love you too,” you manage to spit out as he makes his way down. You blush. “I-I-I sort of wanted to…”

He blinks. “Sort of what?”

“Well, you know…” You point towards his hardened cock. 

And he actually snickers. “Cat got your tongue today or what, bella?”

A groan. “You’re so fucking annoying—”

“No, no, no,” he cuts in with a whistle. “By all means, go ahead.”

Desperate hands crazily reach out towards his belt in a nanosecond. You should be ashamed how hopeless you are, but you don’t find enough strength to care. Not when he was looking down at you with hungry eyes. 

“Tan linda,” he whispered underneath his breath. As if you weren’t meant to hear him. As if he can’t quite believe it’s you he gets to keep. This must all be a dream to him, he thinks. 

Just as you’re about to pull his jeans down, large hands get ahold of your wrists. Confused, you look up at him, head tilted and messy hair falling over your shoulder. He grins wickedly. 

“Just one more kiss.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you kidding me—”

But his soft lips move with such urgency that you don’t even have time to bitch and moan. Not that you’re trying. You can feel it; the hunger, the lust. The way you run your fingers through his hair, or how he squeezes your ass. In a matter of seconds, the room grows steamy, hot breaths expanding with every peck. It’s as if Carlos was too afraid of being ripped away from you even for a second, scared your lips might change and he wouldn’t know a thing about it.

Not knowing you might be his biggest fear.

It happens without a warning, his grip. You feel it slide slowly up your ribs—you remember thinking how much you like it, how much it tickles. Then it reaches your chest, to which his eager hands squeeze your tits, pathetically moaning into your mouth. You can’t help but giggle, but still not separating. And then…

It reaches your neck.

As soon as he squeezes, your eyesight begins to blur, but he doesn’t notice. Your chest begins to rise and fall at an alarming rate, but he doesn’t notice. And you’re terrified.

But he doesn’t notice.

“Carlos,” you whimper, but he takes it as a good sign, mouth moving with ease. “Carlos, honey…”

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is deep. “You like that?” Large palm squeezes harder. “Bet you do.”

“Okay, stop!” you scream, arms flying like some madman. “Let go of me!”

Panicked, he releases you in a hurry, jumping off of your trembling body. Color drains his face as realization hits him, but it's too late. You’re sobbing hard, shoulders bouncing up and down. The way you crawl back with fear makes his heart break as he shakes his head, running a hand against his jaw.

“Fuck.” More cries. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—I am so sorry, baby…” Desperate eyes stare back at you as you hide your face against your shaky hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. I should have known, I should have known.” Inching closer proves to be a mistake when you leap off the bed, throwing a mountain of pillows like daggers. 

“Stop it,” you demand. “Stay. Right. There.”

He flinches. “Are you afraid of me?”

The laugh that erupts from your throat is unlike the others he’s heard. It’s almost maniacal. It makes his skin grow with goosebumps. “Is that even a question?” Dark mascara runs down your cheeks as you breathe heavily. “You just tried to kill me.”

“No,” he pronounces. “No, you know that that’s not true. I-I-I thought you’d like it!” The glare you flicker is enough for him to wince, pinching the tip of his nose. “I should have known better, okay? Please, just…calm down.”

All your sniffles come to an end as you freeze. “Are you calling me crazy?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh my God.” Pushing your hair back, you release a chuckle. “You actually think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy, stop putting words into my mouth.”

A scoff. “Okay, wow.” 

He doesn’t have a clue as to how he continues to dig himself into a hole—and yet—here he is. Digging his own grave. Exhaling hard, he licks his lips before looking straight into your glossy eyes. “I love you,” he starts, but you remain as still as a statue. “And I want us to work through this. I want to be able to talk to you, yeah?” A beat. “I’m sorry about…what I did, I should have never done it knowing you’re…traumatized.” 

He’s almost scared to see your reaction, but it never comes. Instead, you blink hastily, as if you’re mortified. 

You should’ve known. You should have figured that karma would catch up to you sooner or later.

I mean, all sins must be paid for, right?

As soon as he starts closing the gap, you’re thumping heart picks right back up. “I just want to talk—”

“No.”

Despite his hurt, he continues his march towards you. “I just want to be near you, please—”

“I said no!” 

It happens almost in the blink of an eye, the sound of glass shattering. He sort of thinks he must’ve imagined it, your hand flying to punch the mirror right besides you, but the gentle blood that oozes out of your hand makes his heart stop. Suddenly, all the scars you have make sense. So much makes sense. 

“Just…stay there, Carlos,” you say, voice trembling, small hand holding out a piece of sharp glass towards him like some wannabe knife. You bite your bottom lip. “Just—there.”

“Cariño…”

“Stop it with that,” you plead, teardrops slipping. “Stop calling me that.”

Somewhere in the shard, he catches his reflection. Half-scared, half-brokenhearted. He doesn’t even know how you two got to this point. 

He gulps. “Okay. I’ll stop, I’ll stop, but please put that down.” You shake your head fast, splotchy cheeks flushing furthermore. Carlos sighs desperately. “Come on—you’re bleeding.”

“I’m used to it by now.”

Tension resurfaces once again between you both as you stare at each other, awaiting for the next challenge. Playing the silent game for a second, curious to see who breaks next. 

“Why did you lock the door?”

He almost laughs. “We always shut the door—”

You raise the blade up higher as you begin to lose patience. Deep down, you know you’re not capable of harming him, but how could you ever let your guard down once again when he tried to strangle you to death?

History almost repeats itself, and you’ll be damned if you ever let it happen.

“You said it, we shut it but we never lock it.” A soft cry. “What were you planning on doing to me, Carlos?”

It’s like a knife to the heart, you’re sudden distrust. The brunette finds himself struggling to breath as he blinks like a lost deer. 

“You know that I would never hurt you. Not on purpose, at least…”

You let out a wet snarl, shaking your head. “I don’t believe you.”

A flinch. “All of this was a mistake and I adore you.”

“You don’t, though,” you protest, the shaky vision intensifying. “If not you wouldn’t have tried to mur—”

“For the last time, I’m not your step-father!” It’s as if he’s finally reached his breaking point, just now. His body is tired. His mind is tired. Everything is just tired of trying. Carlos shrugs lamely. “If you don’t want to believe me…so be it.”

The pain that rains out of him should be enough for you to know that he’s telling the complete truth. He’s a good guy, with pure intentions. He’s not here to get even with you on your mothers behalf. None of what you’re imagining is true.

But you just can’t seem to understand. 

“I don’t believe your lies, alright?” you spit out with deep breaths. You drop the blade, finally. “Open the door.”

With his head hung low, he complies, feet dragging with every step. And finally, with a hand on the knob, he turns to give you one last glance. He can tell you’re holding in your breath and he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. Why it make him feel so much like a monster…

Click. The wooden door swings open as he pushes it gently.

“Now leave.”

A wave of nausea strikes with your words. “Amor—“

“Stop. Don’t even look at me.” Tension. “I don’t want to see you ever again—not even by accident.”

And that was the last stab that ended it all.

-

Every now and then, he wonders how you are. Hopefully better. 

He hears your name mentioned once in a blue moon, but instinctively blocks it out, too disturbed at the thought of what occurred between you two. 

What did occur between you two?

He could take a guess and say that you’re internally fucked. Straight and simple. 

But it’s still annoying. The way he wishes to forget you with every passing birthday wish. 

At first, it was because he missed you. He just wanted to forget you because he missed you—yes.

Later, it was because the memory of the cramped room suffocated him. The sound of glass breaking was stronger than the sound of his car crashing. And somehow the latter seemed better. 

He just wanted to forget that day—yes. 

Staring off into space has been his thing for a long time, often getting called out on it. Now, he finds himself with his eyes closed, too scared that someone might notice his feelings and feel the need to ask if he’s okay. 

He hasn't been. Not since you. 

“Grape or watermelon?”

Popping and eye open, he catches a glance of Lewis before rolling over. “I’m good.”

It’s tough, this silent war between both his friends. The break up simply made this…tough. Especially when no one really knows what happened. 

Setting the electrolytes down, the Brit claims a spot next to the brunette. Groaning at the unwanted company, Carlos switches to sit upright. Brown eyes glare strongly before Lewis laughs it off. 

“How you doin’, bud?”

Great, no yeah, just severely depressed thanks to your so-called friend. Would you mind asking her where she gets her antidepressants from for me? I mean, I would, but last time we saw each other she, uh, I don’t know, tried to stab me? And you know what’s the most fucked up shit? It’s the fact that I still love her just the same. 

I just wanted to help. 

He forces a shy smile. “Fine.”

A pity grimace. “I can tell she misses you, you know?”

Carlos hates how excited the thought of you alone—dreamily sighing for his return—gets him to sit up straighter, suddenly interested. It’s foolish, really. 

“She would never admit it, but I can tell because I know—”

“Her?” The Spaniard lets out a mocking scoff. “Trust me, you don’t. Not entirely.”

That shuts Lewis right up as he sits there, staring blankly. A dark brow furrows. “Listen, I don’t know what happened between you two—not that I need to know—but she’s a good person. And so are you. So…don’t be afraid of reaching out.”

He flickers his brown eyes accusingly. “Why should I? Did she put you up to this?”

“She didn’t—“

But the fact is, the hesitation gives him away. Anger arises as the Spaniard rolls his eyes. “I knew it, God, I knew it!” A second. “I know her.”

The Brit drowns with nervousness as he waves his hands in despair. “She just wants you to apologize!”

A singular laugh. “Apologize for what?” He pauses, squinting at his friend. “She didn’t tell you why we broke up, did she?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t really know who’s fault it was, do you?”

Lewis looks down onto his lap. “No. Not really.”

“Great, then let me be the one to tell you that it was both of ours. I’m no saint but neither is she.”

An award silence lingers as the Spaniards voice echoes the room. Lewis nods. “Understood. I got it, okay?”

He sighs an irregular sigh. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t worry about it, man.” A sheepish grin. “It’s not my place to fix anything about your guys’ relationship, I get it.”

Carlos’ face switches to bright red as he nods his head once. “T-thanks.”

The Brit, ever happily, stands up firmly before patting his back. “I’m always here if you need to talk.”

“Gracias.” Lewis is just a few steps away when he clears his throat before he can even stop himself from asking. “How’s she doing?”

It came across almost softer than a mumble, and one might have missed it if not alert, but not Lewis. 

Spinning to face the almost manchild with round eyes, he smiles as bright as the sun, and that makes his stomach turn. Because he knows. He knows you’re doing—

“Really well.”

Fluffy hair falls down as he tilts his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s good.” Sure. He returns the same smile with a twitch. “That’s really good.”

Lewis has known you two for a long time now. He’s unwillingly memorized your ticks. How the right side of your face slightly twitches before every lie, or how the left side of his does the same before every lie. Much like right now. 

The Brit contemplates for a minute, then two, then opens his mouth in the most hesitant manner. 

“She’s moving to Germany.” Carlos freezes. “Only for a few months. Maybe a year, who knows. But…you should read her book.”

He unfreezes. “Her what?”

A faint smile. Eyes crinkled. “It’s a tough read, but I believe it was necessary. You know, to finally talk about it.”

-

He never quite believed you would open up this way, and yet here he was, in an unknown bookstore, spacing out. Your name jumps out like some shooting star, too difficult to ignore. 

Without a doubt, you’d get a lawsuit from your step-father. Of course—you were only dragging the last name of what seemed to be the world's richest man. 

For what it’s worth, Carlos is proud. This must mean you’re open to moving on. To get the necessary help you so desperately need. From start to finish, the pages are enticing. You go into gruesome depth, something you never seemed to have a problem in doing. From the mention of how her eyes remained open with no sign of life, only terror, to the fact that you got your many scars from punching the door, trying to get in on time. How he bribed his way against the laws. 

Everything seemed to be coming out.

So then why, as he sits in his driver's room, staring at your picture in the back of the book, does he feel like doesn’t believe it? 

Not even a generous half.

-

Angelica lived up to the first five letters of her name. 

She was there for you in the moments you needed her the most. She braided your hair for playdates, she tied your shoe laces even when you were too embarrassed to ask, and she worked her way up, making sure you had it all. 

Undeniably, she was one hell of a woman. Then again, she had more within her—pulled some trigger you never thought she’d pull.

You were going to lose it all, why couldn’t she foresee that? That conversation was going to rip your inheritance straight from your tight grip; the one that ensured your future vacations. How could she ever betray you? Her own daughter? 

You were acquisitive. You were possessive. You were partially responsible for her death.

But call it naiveness, you really thought it’d work.

No one will truly know the way your soul left your body when you heard you wouldn’t get a single dollar. Not even a fucking cent. You had to find some other way to stay secure.

But Carlos was out to get you, you just know he was. You don’t have a clue as to how he found out about the truth, about what happened inside that stupid mansion, but he knew it all. And you had to get out of there.

Only it led you back to square one. With no purpose. With no money. Fuck men and their actions, seriously, too all hell with them.

However, you were your mothers daughter at the end of the day.

You could be a writer. An even better one that she could've ever been. If you wanted to, you could do it. 

And that is exactly what you did.

You typed, and typed, and typed until your fingers would cramp up. The multi-billionaire was a leviathan and everyone would see that no matter what. 

You, on the other hand, were an innocent bystander. Too weak to intervene, to fight back. Too young. Yeah. That was what happened that night.

But you also had your own perspective. One your mom could never match.

While she married for the illusion of love, you would’ve married for money with no shame. Carlos just happened to be the luckiest of strikes because you got both. 

While she always was at the front of the room without having to try, you were always in the back with a bitter smile. Why did she get to have two dimples? All eyes would have surely been on you if you had at least one. 

And while she never cared about reaching the New York Times Best Seller list—you did. 

She would have jumped with joy just by selling ten copies, but not you. You always wanted more—craved more. Label it as ambition. 

More copies sold means more money. A trust fund means more money. Playing the victim against your step-father means even more money. So yeah…

You did care about that stupid list. 

Tilting your head back against your seat, you flinch at the taste of the pill, too familiar for your liking, but the wine helps. It always does nowadays. 

Buzz. 

Picking up with a level of indifference was all fake—you had been yearning this call for what seemed like your whole life.

“Hey.” His voice is almost raw. Like he could use a couple cough drops. “I-I-I read your book. It was incredible.”

And for the first time in a while, you smile. “Thank you, that means a lot, Carlos.”

You can hear the static against the line, indicating once again that you’re on opposite sides of the world and not together. You can almost bet that it will always stay that way. 

The Spaniard coughs awkwardly into your ear.

“Oh, and also, congrats on making it onto the New York Times Best Seller.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[asidian]

Alright. It is time. Buckle up.

Why you should be watching Dead Boy Detectives: the targeted-specifically-at my-readers edition.

Meet the leads, our two ghost boys:

Edwin Payne: Fussy, repressed intellectual type from the Edwardian era. Exceedingly gay for his partner and best friend. Tortured in hell for seventy years on a technicality because he was ritually sacrificed as a prank gone wrong. Endearingly awful at people and dealing with emotions or his own wants.

Charles Rowland: Impulsive, people-pleasing wildcard from the 80s. Heart eyes 24/7 at his best friend but has zero self-awareness. Badly abused by his asshole of a father. Beaten to death because he saved a kid from bullies. Endearingly awful at sorting his own emotions or talking about his problems.

Some highlights:

/slaps hood you can fit so much trauma in these two

Both leads get sobbing breakdowns that happen on screen. The actors are incredible at crying

Both leads get much-needed hugs

The absolute devotion between the two of them. The shared history that lives in their dialogue and how they work together like people who have been each other's Most Important Person for literal decades

I mean, I'm talking in-canon Orpheus and Eurydice reference level of devotion here

The protective way Charles puts himself physically between Edwin and damn near every threat in the show

They're just fun together. Their interactions and banter and how they work as a team is a delight

Their shared plot arc literally involves them learning to talk to each other and communicate more so that they can be there for one another about their respective issues

The symbolism. God. They are metaphorically and literally one another's light in the darkness

But what about stuff that isn't the main duo? Just wait, there's more:

This show is unabashedly, unapologetically queer. It's there in the text and the subtext. The whole show lives and breathes it

So many good, complex, well-written female characters. The Bechdel test gets blown straight out of the water in episode one and they never look back. Headstrong amnesiac psychic learning to be a better person! Quirky meta commentary matchmaker! Cynical lesbian butcher! Delightfully sadistic witch! They are all amazing.

[audience voice] But I'm here for the hurt/comfort. How can I whump ghosts? Worry not, my friends. Canon has you covered. Not only are there ways, there are ways that happen on-screen. The hurt/comfort and rescue are also on-screen. Yes, it is amazing

Absolute chaos, really cool supernatural cases and creatures, a surprising amount of humor, charming writing, and a cast that absolutely nails it on the acting and chemistry

There is an extremely suggestive trickster type who is also the king of cats. He's a cat in human form. He hits on Edwin nonstop. Charles gets blisteringly jealous

All of the leads have well-thought-through, fully developed, emotional character arcs. They're all messy and flawed and sometimes lash out in their pain, but at turns can be incredibly supportive and kind and loyal

A character who is a crow who is also a boy, who is tortured by his witch/creator and also is crushing hard on one of the leads

There are so many incredible details in the setting, costume choices, prop decisions, etc. that you only catch after you know what it's laying the groundwork for. The level of care that went into this show is phenomenal

It's only eight episodes. The time investment barrier to entry could not possibly be lower

Anyway, tl;dr, if any of this sounds appealing to you, you should give this show a watch.

Dead Boy Detectives is well worth your time. It's easily my favorite show in years.

[dementiadad]

We ran into someone I went to uni with today at the doctors. She's unattractive and mean-- what Mom always referred to as a 'bitter bitch'. I didn't like her back then but she was friends with my roomie so I tolerated her. I say 'That's Susabella's friend Becky. Do you remember her from uni?'

I only remember the good looking ones...🤣

[dementiadad]

Needed this today! It was a rough caretaker week...

For those out there navigating through tough times, remember, sometimes the darkest storms bring the most beautiful rainbows. Keep believing, keep dreaming, and who knows? Maybe the next big twist in your story is just around the corner...

[sugucidal]

# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !!

CHAPTER i. [3k words]

୨୧‬┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader

୨୧‬┊synopsis: with winter break having rolled around the corner, you’ve decided to spend it with your family back at home. it felt nice being back after 2 years away at university. you just wish your mom had told you that a certain guest was visiting. one that you hadn’t expected to ever have to face again.

୨୧‬┊warnings: fluff! + age gap (reader is 19 and toji is 34) + taboo content (cause what’re u doin tryna get tojis middle aged ass in ur bed smh) + slice of life kind of (??) + suggestiveness + humor + reader is in her winter bimbo era + toji is…toji. + no smut yet sorryy + slight slowburn + everything is legal! no ones going to jail!

୨୧‬┊a/n: first chapter woohooo !!! second chapter will finally be coming out on [redacted] <3

‪MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part iii.

Tugging at the sleeves of your jacket further down your hands, you let out an exhale, nerves set ablaze. The typical cool spring air was colder than usual this particular night out, sun having already set and moon shining up into the dark, starry sky.

Fiddling with the hem of your mini skirt, you gazed up, doe eyes glinting heatedly up at the man you've harbored adoration towards.

You were finally gonna confess.

"I want you."

The simple words that held so much weight filled the space between you both.

A sigh in response. Oh no. You already knew what was coming, but you hoped to any deity or god from above that it wouldn't turn out this way.

"Kid, you're way too young for me." The smoke blowing past his lips wafted through the stiff air, his scar pulling at the corner of his mouth in dismay. "If you were older maybe I'd consider it. Wouldn't bet on it though, since you're such a pain in the ass to deal with."

You let his words hang momentarily, trying to come up with a sufficient rebuttal. You knew he was only playing when he said you were a pain to deal with but it still stung your heart to hear it coming from him. But you weren't gonna give up that easily. You've had a crush on this man ever since he moved into the neighborhood years ago!

What started out as innocent puppy love slowly built its way into this desire, stemmed deep at the heart the older you got. You'd watch as he invited women into his home late into the hours of the night, clinging onto him like a leech in a body of lakewater. God, how you wish it was you he'd have brought into his home on those late nights. Lustfully gazing down at you with promises of this being the best you'll ever have, one you'd be thinking back on until the day you die.

He knew exactly just how much you craved for his touch. It wasn't hard to see that he felt the same, you could see it in the way he'd glance in your direction whenever you purposely wore something revealing, hoping to catch his eye. He told you that you shouldn't wear things like that at your age around men, that they were dangerous, intentions impure. As if he wasn't one of those men he was warning you about. But despite it all, he always looked the other way. Kept a boundary of barbed wire up, no way of climbing through. Frankly, it was annoying.

You hate when people play hard to get.

"So...you mean once I'm 18, you'll take up my offer?" If he couldn't get with you because you were 'too young' then surely he'd concede if you were legally an adult...right?

"Not exactly what I said, but sure," Taking one last final drag of his cigar, he stomped it out onto the pavement, sharp eyes gazing at you discerningly one last time before turning the other way.

"Whatever gets you off my case."

That was the last time you spoke with Toji and almost 2 years have gone by since then. The rejection after the confession hurt no doubt, but the avoidance of Toji towards you afterwards, hurt like salt to a fresh wound.

You rarely saw him after that, suddenly out for weeks to months at a time for work. Sometimes he'd come by when he was free and have idle chats with your parents any time they saw him down the neighborhood. Not bothering to spare a polite greeting or glance in your direction whenever you were present. What used to be a strong bond between family friend and their doting daughter, having met him at an early age, quickly turned awkward and tense, distance overtaking whatever there once was.

You regret talking to him that night every single day.

Unfortunately, you couldn't bring back the past and fix your fuck up. On the other hand, the days of being immature and bratty were long gone. Having been replaced by someone more mature and less dense.

Living off pre-packaged noodles and staying up till 6 am finishing up assignments for your university classes due the next hour, does that to a person you suppose.

Now with winter break finally having rolled around the corner, you were able to get that good night's sleep your exhausted ass had been craving for. And the home cooked meals your mother had waiting for you was certainly appreciated as well.

Lugging your bags up the front steps to your parents' quaint home, you took a quick look at the classic 'welcome home' mat under your feet that you were sure still hid a key underneath. Lifting the corner of the mat your suspicions were confirmed.

You'd think they'd realize how unsafe this could be one of these days.

Before you could place the key through the silver lock, you were instead met with the distinct sound of hard, oak wood doors being unlocked and swung open.

"Baby, you're finally home! Get in quickly, come on now." Your mother hastily ushered you in, calling over your father to help carry your bags further inside the warmth of your home. The key you held was quickly dropped on the small table near the entrance, and the door kicked shut. The signature smell of a vanilla sugar cookie candle being burnt filled your nostrils, the rest wafting through the air. Anyone would think your family baked with the way they always seem to choose that particular scent regardless of season or weather. Further glancing around, you watched your family's pet cat prance towards you, its furry face wide eyed and complaining to be held. You swear he acted like a dog sometimes.

Guess some things never change.

You just hoped that would've stayed true for a certain someone.

Before you had any more time to dwell on it, you were taken out of your thoughts by the mention of the name you had barely begun to ponder over.

'Speak of the devil', you sighed.

Walking over to the living area, you followed your father picking up your cat on the way, butting in, "Hm? what was that?"

"You remember Toji right?" Nodding your head, your father continued. "We invited him over for dinner tonight."

You paused in your step. "What? Why?" The confusion in your voice was surely noticed. You couldn't exactly say you were unhappy, hell you felt giddy at just the mention of his name, but you were still hung up on the past and weren't ready to face the man that blew off your poor naive, little heart. If you saw his handsome face in person again that's been embarrassingly haunting your dazed mind whenever you're busy writhing and whining atop your soft, cozy sheets—at that dinner table, you might just take the 2 hour car ride back to campus dorms.

You were just a pussy like that. One that couldn't face the culprit of those lingering feelings that had never ceased to falter throughout the years, dead in the eye.

The two quietly glanced at each other at your sudden change in demeanor, eyebrows raised. Before he could continue your mom piped up first, "What do you mean by 'why'? You haven't seen each other in so long. He misses you and I'm sure you two would like to catch up."

"Misses you" You swear your heart might've actually stopped beating. In what world would Toji Fushiguro have missed their friends young daughter after being told straight to their face that they wanted him to fuck her.

"He..misses me?" It sounded a little unbelievable saying it outloud.

"Mhm, after you left for University he asked about you a couple times, wondering when you'd be back to visit," Turning around to walk into the kitchen to get started on dinner, she smiled over her shoulder at you once more, "You must've really left an impression on him."

Nervously laughing you settled your cat down, watching him stride over to sip some water from his bowl.

"Yeah..quite some impression alright."

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

Okay. Okay it's fine. Yeah you haven't seen him in years but it's fine! He's just coming over for dinner. You'll greet him with a friendly smile, he'll ask how you've been- or shit, maybe he won't. Maybe he'll just ignore you again like he's already done. Toji mentioning to your parents that he misses you was probably just a misunderstanding and he meant to say the weather has been misty- yeah. Totally plausible.

"What the hell am I doing.." Taking a once-over to look yourself in the mirror, you just finished applying the finishing touches to your makeup, wiping off any excess gloss at the corner of your lips with a q-tip for a sharp finish. Was the gloss necessary given the fact that it was going to be smudged off during dinner anyway?

The answer was yes. Yes It was.

Just because you were having a small dinner that was probably gonna be awkward as hell with a man you've been wanting- didn't want to see, shouldn't mean you couldn't at least look cute.

A sudden faint sound of muffled talking took you out your inner monologue. Putting away your array of makeup displayed on the varnished wood countertop of your vanity, you walked over to the door pressing an ear against it trying to discern what was being said.

'Hm sounds like there's someone else down there..' quietly poking a head out into the hallway you just barely made out a deep yet familiar voice before quickly being startled by your mother calling out your name.

"Hon, come down and greet Toji!"

Fuck. "C–Coming!" straightening up, you calmed your blazing nerves, mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of awkward tension that your parents luckily knew nothing of. Bless their complete oblivion.

Walking out into the hallway and down the stairs your eyes immediately locked onto Tojis, gaze shyly looking away and focusing onto nothing in particular. You were better off staring at something near him than at him directly.

Approaching towards where they stood, you tried your best to look as confident as possible. You're a woman now. Not some doe. At least that's what you feel like telling yourself at this moment, as you pick at your nails. Standing straighter, you stood next to your parents, watching as they finished up their talk.

You haven't had a proper conversation with Toji since, well...that night. Not counting the usual greetings you had exchanged with him in the past when you saw each other after. If you could even call it that. If a glance of bare acknowledgement was considered a greeting, then sure. Yet here you were right in front of him, determined to set things right. You had to confront him, it was the only way you'd be able to heal the wound of the past and maybe, even let go.

But first, you'll have to actually talk to him.

Deciding to finally look up at Toji, you were able to make out his features more clearly. He hadn't changed much since you last saw him, still very much tall, and his ever so brooding presence never waned. His jaw was somehow even more defined than before, and he was still rocking the same haircut as he always did.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it I guess.

Overall, he looked good. Better. The best. As he most likely always will be in your eyes.

And you're so lost in your own thoughts that you don't even notice Toji looking down at you in the corner of his eye, trying to hold back a smirk that's beginning to creep up. Silly you, ogling him so openly in front of your own parents. Not like they bothered to ever notice though.

Hearing the three of them laugh about something pulled you away from your stupor, and your attention was immediately latched onto Toji who was the first to speak.

Hopefully he didn't notice you being a creep.

"It's been a while, huh? You still remember me?" You know he's only teasing by asking if you still "remembered" him. The old you would've sassed him up for asking something silly like that, but you don't know if its a good idea to get ahead of yourself and start pulling on his leg this early on.

So you opt for the safest response.

With a polite smile on your lips, you shrugged your shoulders, "Of course. It hasn't been that long."

Toji stared at you for a moment. Shit. Did he not like that answer..?

Then you felt something warm come into contact with the top of your head; it was Toji's hand. Toji was petting you. Or more like ruffling your hair—same difference.

"You barely changed."

You exhaled a breath you didn't even know you were holding. A moment longer in silence and you don't think you'd be able to hold back the urge to run back up those stairs, slam the door shut behind you, and scream into your pillow.

Why were you so nervous!? You're never nervous when it comes to Toji.

'What's up with me??''

Regardless, you felt yourself being left annoyed at his comment. Disappointed that he probably still saw you as some kid despite not certainly looking or being one at all for that matter.

Too bad you didn't realize he meant it in a different way.

Even if you tried to hide it, Toji could still make out the way you held your hands behind your back, most likely fidgeting with your nails. Seems you've changed, the thought amusing him. The old you he knew would've pounced on him by now, batting your lashes, staring up starry eyed thinking you were being discreet about it.

Nothing gets past him, especially not when you make it so obvious. One thing that hasn't changed though, are the clothes you seemed to purposely wear around him, and him only.

The moment he saw you walk down those stairs, he knew you had him wrapped around your finger all over again. The too short skirt and see-through slip on you adorned leaving almost nothing to the imagination, if not for the cream colored cardigan you wore hiding the slivers of skin, leaving him wanting more of what was underneath.

'What a damn tease..' But Tojis eyes averted by the time your parents noticed your descend towards them. He didn't exactly want them seeing him ogle their daughter so openly.

Before any one of you could say anything more, your mother cut the greetings short. "Great, now that we're all finished reuniting again, let's start eating before the food gets cold."

Walking a little ways behind you, Toji catched the way your hips swayed as you walked. Whether you were doing it intentionally or not, he couldn't say for sure.

But one thing he was sure about, is that you were going to give him one hell of a hard time.

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

The rest of dinner went by quickly. Once you were all seated, your parents and Toji had no problem talking with each other. They were busy discussing something, but your mind was too occupied to actually listen in on what they were saying. Too busy playing around with the food on your plate as your mind ran aimlessly, and foot twitching anxiously.

The night could've been worse. Really, it could've. Sure you haven't made any progress yet, but you'll get there! Overall, nothing particular happened. Except for one thing.

Toji couldn't stop looking at you.

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

Before you knew it, dinner had come to an end. Toji had already taken his leave and bid you all a 'thanks for the meal' and a goodbye. Finally. Now you can slip away to your room, wipe off your makeup, and lay awake in your bed as you regret everything you could've said and done tonight but didn't without anyone noticing–

"Where do you think you're going?" There stood your mom, looking at you expectantly. Were you missing something?

"To my room, why?"

"Didn't you hear at dinner?"

'Was I supposed to hear something at dinner?'

"No, hear what exactly?"

"Tomorrow, you're going out to buy some decorations for a party we're having."

A beat of silence. Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as you wondered why the hell you would be having a party.

"Mom… I appreciate that you want to host a welcome back party for me, but there's really no need to." It's sweet that they missed you this much, but you weren't one for parties that were centered around you.

She laughed. "No, no, not a party for you. I know you don't like that kinda stuff,"

Oh. Nevermind then.

"Our annual winter get together. We do it every year with the rest of the neighborhood and we're the ones hosting this time. Have all those cup noodles gotten to your head and you suddenly forgot?" She shook her head in disappointment.

Low blow, mom.

"I didn't forget! I just...didn't know you'd be the ones doing it this year."

"If you were actually paying attention at dinner then you'd have heard."

"Sorry. So, tomorrow you want me to go out and buy decor right? Cool, I'll go after lunch."

Thinking that was the end of that, you began to trudge your way towards the staircase. Already almost at the top when your mother called out to you once more.

"Oh! and Toji's accompanying you."

Yup, definitely going to scream into your pillow tonight.

© SUGUCIDAL 2023 — All rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.

[thewulf]

Little One || Aragorn

Summary: Request -I had an Aragorn request that I wanted to send you; if it’s something you’d be interested in writing I know it’ll be perfect (but if it doesn’t strike your fancy I completely understand)!! After reading your fic with the orc attack I was thinking about how Aragorn would respond to reader being injured defending the hobbits... Read Rest Here

A/N: Thank you for the request @fluentmoviequoter !! Had so much fun writing this, hope you enjoy :) Kinda angsty but hella fluffy as always :)

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.1k +

TW: orcs, talks of blood, arrows, getting shot, yelling, angsty

You and Strider had been Rangers together for the better part of fifty years now. The two of you quickly found solace in the other. The two of you just seemed to compliment the other. What he lacked you picked up for him and vice versa. It wasn’t often he could find somebody who just understood him. So, he decided to keep you close but always safe.

He did what he wanted after all. He had a high enough ranking quickly. You were assigned nearly every patrol, raid, quest whatever the hell it was he did it with you. And you learned quicker than you had ever thought even possible with his aid. He wasn’t brutal on you, but he was not easy by any stretch of the imagination. He wanted you alive, so he trained you to stay that way. He had to be a little mean. A little too much sometime. For that was the real world. You couldn’t go out in the world as freely as one once could.

So, when Gandalf proposed the deal of getting the Hobbits from Bree to Rivendell he had agreed on the condition you could come with them. He wasn’t willing to leave you in some random village town in Eriador. No, he would never do that. Gandalf had agreed without a second thought thinking it was a good idea to have two Rangers instead of one.

You had decided fairly quickly that the Nazgûl was on your list of least favorite things in middle-earth you’d had the pleasure of coming across. You could deal with spiders and orcs buts these creatures were eerily different. Ice cold and terrifying, soul sucking. But you needed to remain stoic in the face of it all to help the Hobbits. The poor things were shaking they were so terrified. You’d tried stories of tales far and wide to shake their minds of their troubles, but it seemed no use as they only looked to the two of you in terror around every twist and turn.

When you stopped for the night to camp you’d noticed that Strider had led you deep into a dense forest. You’d never been the best at tracking, so you often led it to him. You really should’ve paid better attention before as you were often so reliant on his talents.

“I am off to gather a few plants for some tea. I will be back in an hour. Y/N, I trust they shall remain safe in your care?” He asked and you nodded without so much as a second thought.

“Of course.” You smiled to him, “Off you go. I know how mean you get without your tea.” That earned a hearty round of laughs from the Hobbit’s as they laid out their bedrolls for the night. It was nice to hear such a pleasant sound instead of hearing the screeching in the distance.

“I will remember that.” He glared at you with humor in his eyes before ducking into the night.

You turned back to the Hobbit’s with a stupid smile on your face not quite realizing how much you were giving way of your likeness towards the man, “Off to bed we go.” You shooed the silly little smirks right off their faces.

They all nodded quickly falling asleep without so much as a second thought. You were mighty jealous at the way they just did that. It took you far too long to fall asleep these days. Worry kept you up more than you liked to admit.

Thank whatever was out there for that worry that wouldn’t let you sleep as you heard the distant voices and branches breaking far off in the distance. Orcs. Had to be, they were so noisy. Your heartrate spiked as you heard them before you spotted them in the dark night. How in the hell had anything found you all the way out here?

“Up! Up!” You whisper shouted before shaking each of the Hobbits awake, “Abandon the camp we must go. Run” You grabbed for your sword and spare bow and arrow before ushering the small Hobbit’s further into the forest.

They ran ahead confused and disoriented having just fallen into a deep sleep but trusting you nonetheless. You knew you had made too much noise but did not quite realize how much the smaller ones were making as they ran.

You paused for a brief moment knowing your longer strides could catch up. You took a look behind you to see how in danger you truly were. The orcs hadn’t spotted your little group quite yet except one with keen eyes. Adrenaline shot through you as you saw the orcs arrow trained right at the back of Frodo’s head as he ran forward. He’d be dead instantly if the orc shot the arrow before you could stop it.

Panic shot through you as you ran ahead beside him pushing him to the ground with more force than you’d truly meant. You’d thought you were in the clear before the searing pain of being shot by an orc arrow throbbed through your shoulder blade sending you to the ground before you could think. Frodo rolled beside you which sprung Merry, Pippin and Sam into action as they pulled the two of you behind the thick trees of the dense forest. Fortunately for you it was mid-summer, and the forest was coated in dense foliage making it that much harder to find you and the Hobbits hiding in the trees.

Frodo looked more confused than upset before he saw the arrow protruding from your body. He’d understood instantly, “You have been hit miss Y/N!” Merry’s concerned voice only rose a few octaves as he saw the large arrow sticking right outside your shoulder. It hurt worse than it looked but you tried your best to bite back the tears as they were so unseasoned to such horrors in the world.

You looked down wincing at the arrow surely coated in poison. Thankfully you were only a few days out from Rivendell. You’d be fine… Strider not so much. Shuddering at the thought of the man who would be so mad you got hurt, you turned to the small Hobbit’s sitting in fear beside you.

Ignoring the arrow sticking out from your shoulder you sat up from the fall you took, “Listen, for there is not much time before they try and find us. Frodo and Sam run. Go find Strider. He will help end this swiftly.” You nodded watching them run quickly off into the forest. You’d sent Frodo off as he needed to be as far from the attacks as possible.

Wincing you turned yourself as best as you could towards Merry and Pippin, “Now, I need you two to be brave. You must snap this arrow as close to the wound as you can. I will fight these orcs off, but I cannot do that with this sticking out.” You huffed eyeing the rather large wooden arrow searing its mark in your shoulder blade.

Merry only gave you wide eyes as Pippin shook his head answering your request, “I cannot do that.”

“Not can I!” Merry agreed.

You looked behind you a little panicked seeing the orcs moving in closer. Far too close for your comfort. Lowering your voice, you leaned closer to them, “It does not matter any longer. Time is of the essence now. You must or we all die.” You glared at the two of them letting them both know quite how serious this was.

“Aye, turn away.” Merry stood with shaking hands grabbing at the arrow earning a hiss from your mouth. Pippin took his hands in his helping him get the leverage he needed to break the thick wood.

“All right.” You turned your head away clutching your hands into the earth trying to ground yourself. You had to fight back everything that was telling you to pass out as the arrow snapped in two under the hands of the much smaller Hobbits. A quiet whimper left your mouth as you tried your hardest to stay conscious. The orcs were close. You had to do something.

“Miss Y/N” Merry sounded concerned as he saw your face pale out and the orcs move closer, “Please be okay.”

You nodded blinking back the wave of nausea taking over your usually so agile self. This did not feel like your standard orc poison. You knew what that felt like and this was not it. This was moving faster than anything you’d been hit by them with, “I am fine mister Pippin.” You breathed trying to blink back the unshed tears. Pain only reminded you that you were alive. With another small groan you stood from the ground trying your hardest to fight the searing fire in your shoulder, “Stay quiet and hidden. It is best to attack them by surprise. Strider will be back soon. Let us try and wait this out as long as possible.” You whispered grabbing your sword from its sheath at your side.

You waited in silence as the first of the few crept into your field of vision. They must have been lost. No way a pack of orcs were this dumb. Or they were on a special mission. But you could wait no longer as they were likely to hear your breath or any sort of movement for he was a mere step away from you now.

Quickly, you sliced off its head without much of a sound. The loudness of the animals in the night covered up for its lifeless body hitting the ground giving you a second to recuperate and fight back the overwhelming feeling of pain now making its way down your arm.

When you killed the second and third the attention was finally on you. You were not able to be as graceful and let out a cry of pain as you had to use your bum arm to defend yourself. Darting behind a tree you narrowly avoided another arrow coming right for your head this time. But you didn’t have time to panic as the man you had been waiting for finally made his grand entrance. Just as you suspected it was over before it really begun. You were a fine Ranger. But Strider was an expert one.

Leaning back on the tree you let out the breath you were holding in. Never had you been so close to losing someone so quickly on a quest. Never had you been so close to being eliminated. You were usually so much better than this. Strider was getting in your head, and you were losing focus. A Ranger losing focus! That was unheard of. But Strider was your exception it seemed.

“You arrogant fool!” Strider yelled right at you as he came storming over to where you were leaning on the tree. He hadn’t seen the broken arrow in your shoulder nor the way you were holding your arm upright. He didn’t notice the sweat the coated your face or the distant gaze in your eyes. He was mad and he wanted to take it out on someone. That someone happened to be you.

You let out a cry in pain as he grabbed for the arm that you were holding gingerly. Even the smallest movement made it feel like your arm was getting ripped right apart. You had forgotten how painful poison was for it had been nearly fifty years since you’d been struck. The bastards made it as fast and as painful as possible. And whatever this stuff was seemed worse than before.

He moved his hand away from your arm after hearing your strangled cry. Pushing you back up against the tree, avoiding your injury, he felt the sticky liquid coating your outer garments. Blood. Of course, he knew what it was. He had only begun to panic as he saw the deliriousness in your gaze. You were hurt and badly at that. He was not used to this.

Frodo jumped in between the two of you, pushing Strider away just slightly, “She saved my life master Strider! Please have no anger towards her.”

His heart raced as he ordered the Hobbits to light a fire nodding at Frodo that he was done lashing out at you. He knew you needed a helping hand. Not one to hurt you while you were down. Gently, he pushed you down to the ground, “Sit down, nigol.” He’d all but ordered as he helped the Hobbit’s start a small fire. He couldn’t see your wound and you weren’t so forthcoming with information. That and he wanted to see it for himself.

A small smile came to your lips remembering the old nickname he’d given you, “Nigol… you have not called me that in quite some time Strider.”

Brushing your comment aside he asked you, “What happened?” As he sat down next to you waiting for the fire to glow so he could inspect your wound.

You turned towards him holding your eyebrows close together trying your best to bite back the pain, “Orcs happened is all. Caught a poisoned arrow to the shoulder.” Letting out a strangled sigh you sat further back against the tree.

“How did you get hit?” He clarified with more patience in his voice than you were used to. Maybe you looked worse than you felt because he never, ever cut you a break. And you appreciated him for that as you were still alive and usually avoidant of such injuries.

“Ugly bastard was aiming right at Frodo’s small little Hobbit head.” You frowned realizing if you hadn’t noticed Frodo would be sure as dead. You caught Strider’s smile at your crass language for he knew he would never grow tired of your fowl tongue. He loved it about you, “Had to push him out of the way and he nicked me instead.”

“I heard that miss Y/N!” Frodo yelled back at the two of you shaking his head at you, “Elves are not the only creatures with good hearing!” You only smiled as you watched them feed the small fire with more twigs and sticks. It surprised you that Strider ordered a fire for you’d just been ambushed. Who knew what else lurked beyond the trees that kept you hidden.

You let out a strangled laugh feeling the effects of the poison inch its way through your system. You watched as Strider looked at you with concern. It wasn’t often you were the one on the receiving end to such a look. You’d been under his wing for a better part of half a century. You’d gotten really excellent at not getting hurt. It must have been jarring to see you fighting the pain back with such a force. He’d never admit how much he had grown to love you. He didn’t like to see you in pain. Not a bit.

He sighed seeing the fleshy wound, “You must not be so careless next. I have trained you better than that.” He sighed inspecting the wound closely, “I must remove the arrow.” He spoke slowly feeling his heart drop at your startled expression.

You shook your head with a vengeance for you did not like that statement “We are but a few days from Rivendell. Surely they will have healers who can do that properly.”

He bit back the frown as he looked at your arm, “You will not have a few days if I do not get this out.” It wasn’t ominous but simply the truth.

“Is it not an Orc arrow?” You looked down knowing what his answer was going to be but trying to ignore it in your head was proving to be a challenge.

He gave you a solemn nod, “Aye, but it does not appear to be orc poison.”

All you could muster was a simple, “Oh.” Not thinking that was a possibility. You’d still concluded it was a different form of Orc poison. What could they possibly be using?

“It appears to be something much darker.” His frown only deepened as he was studying your wound. He had ripped your shirt where you had been hit to examine it closer. It was turning black far too fast to be the standard orc poison they’d become accustomed to.

You shuddered knowing the pain would be intolerable. You already seemed to be teetering on the precipice between the living world and the unconscious world, “Do your worst then.” You spoke quickly turning away and grabbing at a stick on the ground. When you tuned back he was just looking at you with such a sadness you couldn’t help but to ask, “What?”

He shook his head breaking the stare he had on you, “Nothing. Bite the stick. Don’t fight me. You know the rules.”. It had been a long time since you were at the mercy of his hands. You were but a young Ranger the last time you’d been caught in such a dreadful position. Back then you had medicine to at least dull the pain. This was going to be hell you thought as you placed the soggy stick in your mouth. Something to bite into, crucial to keep you from yelling too loud.

But you didn’t need to worry about that issue too much as darkness took over only a moment after he begun to tug on the broken arrow embedded in your shoulder. Of course, you didn’t catch the concern or the panic that overtook him when he saw you collapse into unconsciousness so easily. He didn’t waste a second longer after the arrow was removed from your shoulder to pick you up and carry you in his arms telling the Hobbits that they had to get a move on for your sake. With hushed complaints the group was off to Rivendell in the dead of night.

It must’ve been the pain overtaking the adrenaline that had subsided that made you fade out of unconsciousness. As your body stirred awake the sun rose in the sky before you. Strider only cradled you closer to his chest when he felt you squirming beneath him. A rather large sigh of relief escaped him as he looked down seeing you slowly blink your eyes back into reality.

“Did you enjoy your rest then?” Strider smiled most genuinely down to you for as much as he loved teasing you it sure made him happy to see you awake once more.

You cracked your own smile at his sarcastic words, “It was nice, thank you for inquiring.” You hummed squirming once more in his embrace. When he locked his hands around you it was only then that you realized he was carrying you like so and he had no intention of letting you out of his grasp.

He chucked seeing your startled expression. It was also new to him too and he really did not want to admit just how much he had enjoyed holding you close to him. It put his normally anxious heart at ease. He had long since found you beautiful. He knew he had loved you when he first heard you speak your mind to a superior all those years ago. For nobody, not a single man, had the courage to speak the way you did. And you had the skill to back it up. That was why he panicked seeing your injured silhouette in the forest. For if you were to go down he had no idea what he would do. You were so deeply embedded in his life he could not even begin to fathom a life without you in it.

He ran faster than he ever had before when Sam and Frodo found him foraging for plants. When they came in blabbering that you had been hit by an arrow he began sprinting in autopilot. It drove him mad feeling like it took longer to get to you. He was there in no longer than a minute to kill the ten or so orcs that were hunting you, the one he loved. He was a maniac when it came to protecting you. He hadn’t meant to yell so harshly at you but he was scared. Terrified of the thought of losing you, his person.

He noticed the pink beginning to return to your face and more relief flooded his overstressed system, “You are getting some color back.” He noticed as he held you closer, “That is a good sign. The poison must not be spreading.”

You let out a long yawn feeling the effects of it all starting to come over you once more, “That is good. It does not hurt as bad either. Just aches a bit.” Your eyes drooped as you tried to fight off the sleep that was overcoming you.

“Rest. Go to sleep, nigol.” He smiled down to you with nothing but love in those striking eyes. He’d been carrying you for hours already, what was another few anyway?

“Nigol.” You hummed remembering the times he called you that all the way back when you first had met him. He refused to tell you what it meant and by the time you finally met an elf you’d forgotten the nickname altogether, “What does it mean?” You inquired hoping he would indulge you this time as you were on the verge of unconsciousness.

He laughed, throwing his head back and all. You admired the way his dark hair framed his fair face as he looked back down at you. He was truly so handsome. It wasn’t fair he was placed in front of you like this and yet, was so unattainable, “I did not tell you fifty years ago, why would I tell you now?”

“I thought I would try.” You sighed, “Does it mean something bad? You only use it when I mess up.” You asked him once you concluded the worst. He often used that nickname early on when you two had been partnered up. It’s use seemed to fade as you had gotten more competent. Yet now when you had a bum shoulder rendering you useless he used it once more.

He shook his head quickly, “It is not bad. I can promise you that.” He eased your worried face quickly with his words.

“Well, I suppose I can accept that.” You didn’t want to push feeling oddly unlike yourself in his arms. Usually combative and wanting to pick a friendly fight you felt like doing anything but that. You just wanted to enjoy yourself in his embrace as you knew this moment would likely never occur again.

He knew you better than anybody else. He noticed how shy you were suddenly acting. Was it the nickname? Were you tired? Was the poison moving faster than he could? He looked down seeing you continue to fight sleep. Usually so powerful you looked helpless in his arms. His eyes softened as he realized how much trust you had to have in him to relax into him like so. You were always on guard, always ready. Frodo was alive because of that instinct. But now you were at his will and he felt more responsible for you than he had ever before.

“It’s Sindarin.” He admitted wanting to give you something more as you had given him exactly what he wanted, you.

Feeling your eyes getting heavier you replied with tiredness in your voice, “I had concluded that Strider. You did tell me you were raised by elves, remember?” Lazily, you smiled up to him laughing as best as your body would allow you.

“It is Sindarin for little one.” He finally admitted to you, “Or mouse.” He looked down at you nervously hoping you’d have a decent reaction to it.

“Mouse? Little one? I should be offended.” You grinned not taking offense in the slightest for you found it oddly adorable he had given you such a sweet nickname.

“Do not take offense.” He spoke quickly, “I did not mean it that way.”

“Relax, Strider.” You yawned once more feeling your head rest of his chest heavily. Sleep was coming on quick, “I am just teasing you. You are so easy to mess with.”

“Sleep now, little one.” He gave you another gentle squeeze letting you know he had you. It was alright. You could trust him as always. And trust him you did as you found yourself in a quick sleep right back in his arms.

“There you are.” Strider’s voice pulled you from the sleep that had overcome you on the road. When you blinked you were stunned to be laying in front of a fireplace in a rather grandeur room. You must have made it all the way to Rivendell which meant you had been out for days at this point.

“Are we in Rivendell?” You tried to sit up before his hands pushed you back down, gently, into the plush elven bed.

“You must lie still.” He ordered before answering your question, “Yes. You have been unconscious for nearly four days. Lord Elrond was unsure if you were to make it.” His eyes were laced with something you had hardly seen on the man in your many years of knowing him, fear. He looked scared, terrified. Yet almost relieved seeing you awake.

“Four days?” You swallowed back your surprise.

He gave you a quick not, “Almost, you even have Lord Elrond worried.”

You sighed, “I did not mean to do that.”

He moved closer, sitting on your bedside. Taking his chance he brushed your stray hair away from your face, “You always do that.”

You just looked up at him, “What?”

“It is just that you always care for others before yourself. As much as I love that about you. Think about yourself for once. Care for yourself. You are far too kind.” He spilled his thoughts to you for he was too tired. Too scared at the thought of losing you he was not going to hold back his tongue anymore for he knew he loved you. He wanted you. He couldn’t see you with anyone else but him.

You blinked back surprise at his outright confession. Sure, the two of you had danced around any feelings for quite literally years. But you would have none of that, as sweet as it was, “You did not say that when I slayed half an orc army with you.” You spoke with a hint of playfulness in your tone. It was your favorite game to play with the man.

He laughed a full hearty laugh. A laugh so pure, one you’d heard so rarely from the man. He only laughed like that when he was at peace. Happy. Comfortable and relaxed. A sight that you could really get used to.

“For that is true.” His eyes searched your for any sign of pain. Any sign that something was wrong. He could not quite believe you were finally awake and chatting with him like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t been knocked out cold for that long. When Lord Elrond had started to get nervous. Strider was not dumb. He grew up with Elves and knew their tells. When an elf grew worried he knew things were not boding well.

You felt yourself shrinking under his gaze, “What? Is there something on my face? Because that would be embarrassing. I have been asleep for three days and you let something stay on my face for that long?” You rambled not quite sure what you were doing. He was making you nervous. Strider never made you nervous. But when he gave you that earnest look you completely lost yourself to him. How fickle your brain was behaving.

He bit back a laugh sensing your nerves, “No. There is nothing marking your face. I was simply admiring you was all.”

Was he trying to kill you? Your cheeks were sure to be a bright rosy, red for his second confession was bolder than his first, “Admiring me?”

“Indeed. I would not be the man that I am had you not been by me all these years. I thought I was going to lose you. But now that you are back I get to admire you.” He spoke with that soft voice he only used ever so often. It was fascinating to get to know an entirely different side of the man you thought you knew through and through.

“I deserve no such thing.” You laughed trying to shake off the seriousness of his gaze down on you. He did not find your statement the least bit humorous.

“While I do not agree I also do not wish to argue. How do you feel?” He changed the subject even though he might have enjoyed watching you squirm. Placing a cool hand on your forehead, he did not miss the small jump you had in response to his contact. Touches he had given you so often before had changed. Things had shifted between the two of you and for the first time in a long time he was excited. He had a purpose. His purpose.

You gulped back your argument and nodded in agreement, “I feel fine, will you let me sit up now or must I stare up all afternoon?” You quipped hoping your quick mouth would let him know just how fine you really felt.

Shaking his head, he held out a hand for your to take, “You may sit up, but take it slow.”

“I was shot by an arrow Strider. I did not get my legs cut off.” You took his hand letting him pull you up to sit next to him.

He rolled his eyes yet still held admiration in them, “That mouth will get you in trouble one day.” His eyes traced your face as you too just looked at him. It didn’t feel quite real that he could have admired you just as you him. Had you been blind?

You hummed in agreement not being able to take your eyes off his, “Not if you are there to protect me.”

It was he who broke the staring game going on between the two of you as he collected his thoughts, “Indeed, little one. There is nothing truer than that statement.” Gaining some courage, he took your hands in his giving them a gentle squeeze, “Please never scare me like that again for I cannot bear it.”

“I will try my hardest, as long as you promise to do the same.” You nodded towards him feeling bashful in front of the man you’d grown to love. The man you had only hoped to love you as he did. The man you never could have imagined felt the same. Yet here you were.

Giving your hands a reassuring squeeze, he simply nodded to you, “I promise, little one. I promise with my whole heart.”

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[venus-haze]

God's Got a Sick Sense of Humor (Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader)

Summary: Your decision to dress up as a slutty nun for Halloween has unexpected consequences when you make the acquaintance of an equally attractive and disturbed priest. (AO3 link)

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Not entirely spoiler-free, but if you’ve watched up to episode 6, you should be good! Also I couldn't find what the parish name was, so I made one up. The gif doesn't really have anything to do with the fic, I just like it🤭 Please look at the warnings before deciding whether to read this fic.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Non-con involving degradation, rough oral sex (m. receiving); ambiguous ending.

You knew early on in the night you had made a mistake in costume choice. The vinyl skirt started pinching your waist after less than an hour of wearing it, the nipple pasties were slowly peeling off despite your best effort, and the platform heels weren’t forgiving after several shots of tequila. The vinyl habit stayed in place with the bobby pins you used, but after a while, it felt like it was cooking your head.

Your friends found your plight funnier as the night went on, cracking jokes about how it was God punishing you for wearing the costume in the first place. Lisa had little trouble with her Tinkerbell costume, a green mini-dress and sparkly heels she pulled from her closet and a cheap set of fairy wings from the same Spirit Halloween you got your costume from. Julie’s Bridgerton-inspired costume seemed a bit out of place compared to you and Lisa, but she got a lot of compliments on the details.

For the limited the fun your little desert town had to offer, something was definitely missing from the night out.

“Why did Merritt say she couldn’t make it, again?” Lisa asked, the three of you walking down the street to the next bar you’d inevitably terrorize. All the usual haunts, where the bartenders knew your order and half the patrons were people you’d gone to high school with and definitely didn’t want to see again.

You shrugged. “I texted her earlier, and she said she couldn’t make it, something came up.”

“It sucks she doesn’t hang out anymore,” Julie said. “Did we do something?”

“I mean, her dad’s in a coma, and her mom’s working all the time with those gross murders going on,” Lisa said. “She’s probably the only one keeping things together at home.”

The three of you had known Merritt for years, your friend group becoming tight-knit as time went on. Getting carted to and from soccer games turned into sleepovers and late nights getting fast food. You got to know the Tryons pretty well over the years. Her dad was nice enough, and you always found her mom funny, if not a bit overprotective, but Lois always remembered your birthday.

“I’m gonna stop by sometime this week. It’s been way too long since any of us have seen her,” you resolved.

Lisa and Julie agreed, though you weren’t sure Merritt would appreciate all of you showing up unannounced at her house. You figured you’d be better off going yourself and seeing what the deal was with Merritt.

Stumbling over your platforms, you struggled to keep up with Lisa and Julie until you tripped and nearly wiped out on the sidewalk. You caught yourself on a nearby telephone pole, the lights from the nearby buildings blurring the more you tried to focus.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Are you sure?” Lisa asked.

“Yeah, I’m gonna find a convenience store and then get an Uber home.”

“We can go with you,” Julie said.

You shook your head. “Don’t end your night early because of me.”

“Alright, text us when you get home.”

When the world finally appeared upright again, you looked at the nearby street sign, recognizing where you were, at least. Not far to the nearest shop that you were certain would be open late. You checked your phone for the time and felt especially lame. It wasn’t even midnight yet.

With a sigh, you turned down the street, opening your messages to your most recent text to Merritt. Your FaceTime request went unanswered, so you opted for an audio message instead.

“Hey Mer, it’s me. We missed you tonight!” You paused awkwardly, wishing you could actually talk to her. “Look, there’s a Halloween party tomorrow night, something out in the desert. It’s not too late to get a costume. We could go to the Spirit Halloween in the old Bed, Bath and Beyond—“ A catcall interrupted your rambling. “Look, just call me or something, at least let me know you’re alright? Bye, babe.”

The fluorescent lights in the store were almost headache-inducing, but you powered through for a bottle of Gatorade and a protein bar that you hoped would mitigate the hangover you’d inevitably have in the morning. 

Gatorade in hand, you felt almost dizzy staring at the array of protein bars in front of you, wondering how there could even be so many and if they were really any different. A man walked down the aisle, standing a few feet away from you, though you didn’t pay him much mind until you grabbed a protein bar and noticed he was dressed as a priest.

“Hey, nice costume,” you told him.

“Oh, this isn’t a costume.”

You laughed. “Right.” Your inhibitions lowered, you gave him a once over, your gaze lingering on his handsome face, his muscular arms. “You know it’s a shame we didn’t run into each other earlier tonight, we probably could’ve won a couples contest or something.”

He smiled, though something flickered in his brown eyes that made your guts churn. Except, it likely wasn’t him, as you shoved what you were holding onto the shelf next to you and rushed out of the store.

You wretched, the contents of your stomach emptied onto the blacktop. Tears burned your eyes, your throat scratchy and raw by the time you were done. You felt a hand on your upper back, could barely hear the sound of a man asking if you were okay over the sound of blood pounding in your ears.

Glancing up, you were mortified to see the priest looking at you with concern, though disgust was nowhere in his expression.

He handed you the Gatorade you’d been holding in the store, apparently going ahead and buying it for you. Taking a swig, you swished some around in your mouth before spitting it on the ground. He gave you a handful of crumpled napkins as well, and you tried maintaining what was left of your dignity while getting yourself together in front of him.

You managed a mousy thanks, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Don’t tell me you plan on driving home,” he said.

You shook your head. “I came out here with my friends."

"And they just left you like this? Alone?"

"I told them I'd get an Uber.”

“They'll charge you double tonight," he said. "I can drive you.”

Accepting a ride home from a stranger certainly wasn’t the smartest choice to make, but he actually seemed to give a shit about your well-being. You agreed, if not for the fact that you were curious about him, and the horny part of your brain hadn't shut up since you saw him.

He kept his hand on your back as he walked you over to his car. Almost felt like his fingers were twitching against your skin. 

Getting into his car, you noticed the rosary hanging from the rearview mirror, a saint card clipped to his visor. 

“Oh my god, are you actually a priest?” you asked from the passenger seat as he turned the car on.

“I told you it wasn’t a costume.”

“Shit.”

“Father Charlie Mayhew, from Our Lady of Sorrows, if you don’t believe me.” He smiled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your address?”

After giving him your address along with your name, realizing you hadn’t told him yet, you rolled the window down about halfway, finding the fragrant odor of incense and cologne a bit overwhelming for your queasy stomach. The cool night air gave you instant relief, and you laid back on the headrest, keeping your eyes closed for a few minutes. 

Father Charlie filled the quiet with a true crime podcast. Not a particularly odd choice, except that he was a priest, but Catholicism always lent itself to morbidity—his was more modern, you supposed.

“Have you heard about those murders around town?” you asked over the sound of a young woman giving the background of a triple homicide.

“Yes, our parish’s publication has been reporting on it,” he said. “I'm the editor, but one of our nuns is working closely with the lead detective on the case.”

You opened your eyes to look at him in disbelief. “Lois is working with a nun?”

“You know detective Tryon?”

“She’s my best friend’s mom,” you said. “I went to her house all the time growing up.”

“You must know her pretty well, then.”

“Yeah, Lois is one hell of a detective,” you said. “Still, I can’t imagine…whoever’s behind it must be depraved. What he’s doing—it’s not even human, it’s animal.”

“He?”

“I don’t think anyone but a man could be capable of that kind of barbarism, Father.”

“You might be right about that,” he said solemnly.

You drank more Gatorade, hoping to settle your stomach and ease your discomfort with the direction the conversation had taken. But you were the one who brought up the murders in the first place. All had some kind of religious connotation. No wonder the Catholic paper was eating that shit up. 

Catholicism was always predisposed to an especially grotesque morbidity. Open wounds considered blessings. Bones of the holy displayed with reverence. Even bread and wine transformed into the body and blood of Christ himself. Whoever was behind the recent murders was either observant or well-read.

Father Charlie pulled up to your building about ten minutes later, and you internally sighed in relief when he turned the podcast off. You couldn’t wait to get out of the damn costume and into bed.

“Thanks, Father Charlie,” you said. “I owe you one.”

“Actually, mind if I use your bathroom?” he asked.

You shook your head. “‘Course not. Come on up.”

Acutely aware of the costume you were wearing again, it was far too tempting not to show off on the way up to your apartment, swinging your hips a bit more than was warranted, knowing he was right behind you, the tight skirt giving him a full view of your ass. You privately bemoaned the fact that he was actually a priest. What a fucking waste. A guy who looked like him had no business giving himself to Jesus and denying the rest of the world the pleasure.

You took a selfie by your front door, a tired smile and a thumbs up that you sent to Julie and Lisa.

“Just letting my friends know I got home safe,” you explained, noticing Father Charlie staring at you.

You could barely hide your self-satisfied smile when you unlocked the front door. “The bathroom’s through the kitchen, first door on the right.”

“Thank you.”

Making a beeline for your bedroom, the first thing you did was take your heels off. Your feet were still sore, with a mean blister that made you walk funny when you brought the heels over to your shoe rack. You could hear the toilet flush and the water from the sink run in the bathroom. Chewing on your lip, you were almost tempted to ask Father Charlie if he wanted to stick around. If you could just brush your teeth and reapply some makeup real quick, you'd be good as new.

You never got a chance to.

“So, why this costume?” he asked, startling you.

You gasped, turning around to see him leaning against the door frame. “Oh, um—I thought it was funny.”

“What’s funny about it?”

“Well, nuns aren’t supposed to have sex, and this costume is—”

“Pornographic," he said. "I mean, it’s something you get fucked in.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, shocked at his bluntness.

“Chastity. The sacred vow to God that all women of the cloth take, and you—” he scoffed to himself, stepping into your bedroom so he was only a few feet away from you, “you mock it.”

You knew you should’ve picked the sexy nurse costume instead. “I’m so sorry, Father.”

“You will be. Get on your knees.”

“Ex-excuse me?”

“Don’t be crude. This is about repentance.”

The searing venom in his voice made your muscles contort to his will, and you found yourself on your knees. You should have been fighting back, screaming for him to get out, but in your heart you knew it was useless. Back in the convenience store, you noticed his fit physique, and you could hardly count on your neighbors to give a shit if you were in any kind of trouble.

"Do you even know how to make a sign of the cross?" he asked mockingly.

You shakily did so, bringing your left hand to your forehead, then your chest, then to each shoulder. He scoffed, apparently you messed something up, but he didn't elaborate, instead ordering you to repeat after him. The prayer came jumbled from your mouth, 'through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault' over and over until his voice was ringing in your ears like a broken church bell.

The bulge in his pants was impossible to ignore. You kept your eyes focused on his face, even when you heard the sound of his zipper and clothes shifting. But you couldn't help it, not when he was pumping his cock right in front of your face. Your repetition dipped with a slight whimper when you glanced at the size of him, foolishly hoping it was just proximity making his length appear so intimidating and angry, as if it wanted to hurt you just like he did.

“Simply praying won’t do someone like you any good," he said abruptly. "You need another form of penance, something more tangible."

Shoving his cock in your open mouth, you choked at the intrusion, attempted to shift backward and finally make a run for it, but he caught you by the habit you so stupidly kept in place with bobby pins and hit the back of your throat.

"Why don't you give me ten Hail Marys?" he mocked, his looming silhouette appearing outright demonic through your tear-filled gaze.

You didn't know the damn prayer. Couldn't even try to fake it when all you could manage was muffled pleas for him to slow down, go easy on you, have mercy. Your jaw ached, throat burned at the force he used to make you take as much of his cock as you possibly could.

He didn't show any signs of fatigue, save for the beads of sweat that rolled from his face and onto your own. He grinned at that, at you, the position you were in. The church was full of sickos, and he was certainly no exception.

Making one feeble attempt to fight back, your teeth grazed his cock, and just as you tried to work up the courage to bite down, he jerked his hips, cursing under his breath.

"Take it," his voice a low growl as he came in your mouth, ignoring your choking, spit and snot and cum leaking down your face and onto your vinyl costume and exposed breasts, "take your penance, slut."

Father Charlie hardly gave you a chance to catch your breath when he pulled his spent cock out of your mouth. You practically collapsed on your bedroom floor, each gasp of air painful against the back of your abused throat. Grabbing you by the habit again, he hauled you over to your bed, bending you over the edge of it.

He shoved his fingers between your legs and scoffed at the wetness that coated your thighs, your thong doing little to contain your subconscious reaction to the way he treated you. "Oh, that's just shameful," he drawled. "You're not repentant at all, are you? Leading a man of the cloth astray, causing me to sin…why else would you have put this costume on tonight?"

Straddling you from behind like a dog, his body was heavy on yours. With one hand squeezing your neck, the other pressed something against your throat. You reached for whatever he was holding, freezing in panic when you realized it was the hair scissors you kept in your bathroom. He must have swiped it while he was in there. They weren't even that sharp, but the extra effort he'd have to put in to mortally injure you with them would mean it would be all the more painful for you.

“Depraved, animal, barbaric,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Is that what you think of me?”

You whimpered, feeling his cruel laughter rumble in his chest against your back. “No—no, you can’t be—”

“I was going to do something about that costume anyway, but having that mutual friend in common,” he mused, “I just can’t pass up the opportunity to leave Detective Tryon a personal message. Call it divine will.”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You can tell God yourself how sorry you are,” he whispered.

“No—Father, please don’t—”

[jazzsonly]

ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱɪᴅᴇ ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. tara carpenter, scream.

warning(s): fem!reader, use of she/her, fluff(?), smut (only implied. not detailed.), amber is alive and sane, anika is alive, no gf au, talks of the readers body being fit and toned, reader is a gym rat, talks of protein intake and meal prep, talks of the gym, friends with benefits, etc.

HC summary: the one where tara is fucking her gym rat neighbor…

ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. masterslist. ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. ֹ⠀⠀✶

it started off as an innocent crush, really. it really did.

see, when tara and sam first moved into the apartment, tara would see you jogging around the complex.

“woah, she’s hot.”

sam, peaks, humoring her sisters comment. she hated to admit it, and she never would aloud but you were indeed ‘hot’

tara figured you must live in the complex as she’d seen you on your morning jog twice but it wasn’t until the third day she had found out you lived right across from her, she were coming home from her afternoon class and caught a glimpse of you, clad in your black alo sports bra with matching, grey alo sweats, entering your apartment

you had shot her a quick smile as you unlocked your door to step in

tara’s little high schoolish crush grew, in fact so much core four made it a running joke

“there’s your neighbor!” mindy perked up, looking out the apartment window

“where?!” tara immediately jumped up from her macbook that sat on the kitchen table, she searched through the window, met with an empty complex

“i’m just teasing you!”

mindy’s obnoxious laugh turned to a harsh “ow!” being met with a tara’s punch in the arm

“i was just joking!”

“why don’t you just ask the girl out already? i mean, she goes to blackmore too and you live right next door to each other—”

tara cuts off chad, who were laid out on the couch scrolling through instagram, “she goes to blackmore?!”

“yeah we sit next to each other in math. she’s really smart, lets me cheat off her.”

“you have to introduce me to her!”

and that chad did.

it wasn’t odd but it wasn’t particularly normal either that out of the blue chad had asked to hang outside of math—i mean, besides him copying your answer you two discussed gym related things and sometimes video games

you were a simple person and chad was a cool guy. why not?

“here comes chad with your dick drop off”

“you mean pussy drop off?” amber counters mindy.

“hey, you don’t know what she has in her pants.”

“will you two shut up?” tara seethes, as she fixes her hair and straightens her posture.

“everyone, this is y/n. y/n this is core four.”

fuck. you looked so good. tara couldn’t even understand how you could look so good in an oversized beat up t-shirt and black sweats. you just always managed to look so sporty and it really turned her on.

“hey! you’re my neighbor aren’t you? apartment 216.” you instantly recognized tara.

little did the carpenter know, you had been watching her too. developing your own little crush. seeing her come home from classes. her skinny jeans and crop top combos never failed to catch your eye. you liked the fact that she seem studious, yet looked like one of those hot popular bitchy girls in the movies.

“yeah, yeah. i’m tara.” you exchange a hand shake.

“y/n here is really into horror games…i told her that’s perfect because we love horror movies. especially, tara, i bet you could talk her right out of her panties about horror movies.”

both mindy and amber, on either side of chad punch either of his arms at the same time.

“excuse, my brother…he lacks social skills, part of his lumped up brain.”

“it’s fine, i deal with him all day in math.” you joke.

“so, horror movies, huh? what’s your poison? slasher, thriller…”

“physiological. like, the babadook.”

“no way! my brother loves that movie. it used to scare me to death when i was a kid.”

you get close to not only, tara but core four rather quickly.

tara eager to get to know you and get in your pants, invited you to movie night immediately.

of course, leave it to mindy and amber to tease her about the way she would hog you.

“ok y/n’s on her way, said she’s in the shower.” tara reads off the text you had sent her.

“she’s gonna be all over her again.” mindy snickers, wrapping her arm around anika’s shoulder.

“shut up, you literally worship the ground anika walks on.”

“duh, she’s my girlfriend.”

it wasn’t long before movie nights with core four turned into just you and tara hanging. first you started to get coffee together,

“i can’t believe you like your coffee black.”

“it feeds my soul. plus, it’s an appetite curver and i’m on a cut.”

“i’ll never understand your gym talk.”

“and that’s what i love about you.” you joke.

then it turned into walks at the park,

“ya’ know, we could be running right now.”

“not a chance.”

then it turned into tara hanging around at your apartment,

“so remind me what a ‘winter arc’ is?”

you continue you cut of the banana that was set to be put in the blender along with other cut fruit and your protein mix.

“it’s basically, like when you workout and diet all winter so when summer comes you’re all ‘hot’ and shit.”

“huh…maybe i need a winter arc.”

“no you don’t. trust me.”

tara pauses, were you flirting with her?

“that’s a compliment.” you read the expression on her face.

“well, if i don’t need one, neither do you.”

“oh, i’m not on a winter arc, hon. this is a lifestyle.” you tease, before turning the blender on.

it wasn’t until a month after nonstop flirting and banter, you and tara had kissed.

you were both sharing a movie night alone in your apartment, you sat side by side under your comforter on your reclined couch.

tara being comfortable enough with you that her head was on your shoulder, mindlessly ignoring the movie as she admired the feel of your body.

“dude, your arms look so slim but are like rock hard.” she reaches up, feeling your bicep.

“why, i do workout you know.” you tease, letting out a snicker.

tara ignores it, letting her hands childish roaming your body.

“you have got to tell me your secret, you stomach feels amazing.” over your fitted black under-armor shirt, tara runs her fingers and nails over your ab’d stomach.

“handsy much.”

“oh shit, sorry.” fuck. did she just fuck things up? come on too strong?

“no, no…” you grab her hand, placing it back onto your stomach.

“i didn’t say i didn’t like it.”

tara looks up at you like a deer caught in headlights, she swallows the lump that’s in your throat, her bottom lip caught in between her teeth as you lick your own lips and eye her face down.

she doesn’t know why she’s so nervous that she hesitates. this is all she’s wanted for the past two months.

she’s in a trance and it takes you finally leaning in to break her out of it.

she becomes hungry and irresistible to you all at once.

this time, she seriously does let her hands wander. she can’t get a enough of your body, you feel hot and cold all at the same time.

her body feels all hot with your hands on her waist.

you firmly pull her into your lap.

for a second you break the kiss, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

tara pants, “god, why would i ever want you to stop?”

eagerly, she goes back in for more.

her hands slid up her waist, pushing your shirt up, indicating that she wanted to get it off and you take the hint. breaking the kiss, you reach for the front neck hem of your shirt and pull it over your head. you are left in a white gymshark sports bra.

hastily tara does the same, sliding over her blue crop top , leaving her in a black bra.

“you have a tattoo?” tara runs her fingers over your mid-torso tat that’s just says ‘love’ in cursive. how didn’t she notice this before?

“yeah, matching family thing.” you brush off, softly grabbing the back of her neck to pull her back into the kiss.

that night tara woke up in your bed, and months worth of nights after that.

it almost became a routine, you’d even given her a spare key to your apartment. tara would wait for you while you finished up at the gym. you’d cooked a little dinner, you two would talk, and then fuck.

you weren’t really sure what to call you two and neither was tara. but to be honest it didn’t really matter, all you knew was that you enjoyed the time you spent together and you were only seeing each other.

when anyone asked sometimes tara would slip and call you her girlfriend but you didn’t mind.

you went along with it.

“you make a sexy gladiator.”

“and you make a sexy pirate.” you lean down, kissing tara.

“you and your girlfriend are gross.” amber fake gags in her raven (teen titans) costume.

“at least i have a girlfriend.” tara teases as she pulls you into the obnoxiously loud and crowed house that held a halloween party.

“girlfriend, huh?”

“i mean—”

“i’m just teasing.” you smirk.

the pirate rolls her eyes, “well tease me in another way, you look really hot in that costume.”

━━━👩🏽‍💻 im back…sorta…kinda. anyways finally out of my depression #backtogetherwiththeloml #winterarc #manifesting this was definitely supposed to be a fic but i was too lazy and turned it into a headcon. yes this is named after side to side by ari.