#there's a million ways it would be done poorly

[stvolanis]

Now i know you better

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Fem!Sinner!Reader

WARNINGS: ANGSTTTT, mean!Alastor, cheating w/ Lucifer, probably inaccurate time line idk, foul language,this is honestly kind of poorly written I’m sorry, manipulation, abuse, Alastor owns Readers soul, toxic relationship, possessive!Alastor, pet names, brief mention of suicide

NSFW WARNINGS: dubcon, slapping, hair pulling, choking, forced cream-pie, degradation, dacryphilia, p in v sex, knotting, humiliation, blood if you squint

SORRY IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

It wasn’t your fault that your grave was dug the moment you stepped foot into the fiery pits of hell.

It wasn’t your fault that it was dug by Mimzy when she introduced you to her dear friend, the Radio Demon who, oh so casually, casted peoples screams for hell to hear.

Mimzy, known to drag people into her messes when shit hits the fan, had deeply embedded you into an on-going war with one of the various overlords, simply by seeking a place to lay low for a few days. You didn’t expect Alastor to show up, that damned smile engraved onto his face.

And it most definitely wasn’t your fault that you laid in said grave.

He was charming, and charismatic. A lethal combination when a sense of confidence and dad-humor was thrown into the mix. The way you met wasn’t the most ideal, especially when he basically bombarded through you, inviting himself into your wrecked home to find Mimzy himself without a word.

His smile, then, seemed aggravated. He did little to hide the annoyance she had somehow caused him, and the way his voice grew in static when he spoke showed that. He was scary when you had watched his figure enlarge, his once normal, slim body now turning into a tall, beastly, and lanky figure with protruding antlers and dilated pupils.

Dread set into your core that day when he directed his wrath towards you. His tall frame stalking over you, a hand quickly shot to your throat. Your back hit against the wall as you were lifted from the ground, gasping for breaths of any air you could possibly get.

His breath was drug out and uneven as his chest moved up and down at a surprisingly slow pace. Even though he seemed to be filled of fury and unease—he had a sense of control over his calmness to an extent. Eerily, he had glided his mouth along your neck, inhaling your scent.

A harsh groan, almost as if he were in pain had slipped past his lips. It rumbled deep in his chest, and your eyes watered as your vision began to fade. Only then, did he release you and let your body fall to the floor. You held your throat gently as you finally got what you were begging for.

“Maybe you’ll listen, since sweet Mimzy won’t.” He began, his voice deep and contorted with static and brute. “You will fix the mess she created, and restore what was mine to begin with. Your soul will be mine until you have fulfilled your duty as said.” He finished.

Your mouth gaped. He had presented it to you like you had a choice in the devastating matter, but you knew better. You sobbed as your curled into a ball, and watched as he raised a hand towards your frame that wracked with sobs. “Hush now, girl. You will be under my care so long as I’ll have you.” He ushered with a grimace as he watched you wipe your nose with your wrist.

You longed to object. To scream and yell out that never in a million and one light years would you ever agree to such a thing. Your freedom was yours alone, and you liked to keep it that way. He’d have to drag you through hell and back for you to allow that to happen, yet as you took his sharp hand into yours, it was all said and done.

A bright light consumed you, and just for a moment, you thought maybe it was the light shower everyone talked about up in heaven. The bright beacon of a light so blinding that cleansed you of all your wrong-doings, took away all your pain and replaced the emptiness with a euphoric feeling of content.

Warmth spread throughout your body, and that moment of hope ended when you felt thick, heavy metal of chains cling around your throat and wrists. Alastors smile haunted you. It crept up on you in your dreams, and ate away at the only good things you had left to hold onto.

The life you once cherished, even in hell, soon faded away till it was nothing but a faint distant memory of someone you once knew that was yourself. It was replaced by an evil demon, in the form of a gentleman who disguised plots and alterier motives with wide smiles and laughs.

but again, you knew better.

The person you once were was stripped from you, and you were bare before him to bend and mold how he saw fit. And so, he did. You became his his underboss of sorts, a quiet and submissive being who did as told. They always said behind every powerful man, there was a woman. And it was you. Everyone got the good side of Alastor, yet it was you he took his frustrations out on when the day was said and done.

It was you who endured his aggressiveness when everyone was fast asleep in their bedrooms, dreaming of a better life you knew you’d never receive.

You were his lap dog, and his favorite toy to play with whenever and however he wanted to. It was unofficial, and confusing to others, but you somehow managed to find yourself in some sort of situationship with Alastor. You were his. body, mind, and soul.

You tried your best to please Alastor, constantly seeking his approval that he so generously bestowed upon others. You chased your tail around, and ran in laps, jumping through hoops just to earn a small nod in approval for him.

He wasn’t always bad. He cared for you, in his own fucked up way. He cared in way that he would never let something bad happen to you, and would protect you at all costs. You were his delicate little flower, how could he ever allow anyone who isn’t him to inflict any kind of harm onto you? He’s a bitch, but to an extent.

He loved you, yes, but only when he was in the mood to love you. When he loved you, he’d hold you close to him when you were perched on his lap in the hotel lounge. He’d whisper sweet nothings to you as he kissed along your neck, making giggles vibrate through your chest. He’d run his fingers through your hair till you fell asleep against him at night after a particularly hard day.

And on days when he knew he went to far, his classic water works he only had in store for you would come into play. He couldn’t bare his favorite toy hating him. He didn’t know how to deal with the colder shoulder and short-answer responses from you. It aggravated him that only you could get under his skin without doing much, so when you were heavily upset, only then would he drop down to his knees and kiss the inside of your thighs lovingly.

Tears would align his eyes, but his smile never once wavering, and beg for your forgiveness. He’d tell you how much he loved you as he rubbed your sensitive bud, and wash away your worries with so many orgasms, you forgot why you were mad at him in the first place.

Yes, he owned your soul and tended to be abusive, but he wasn’t heartless.

He’d tell you he’s sorry, and that he’d never hurt you again. It’s always a lie, and each time you allowed yourself to stupidly believe it.

But the truth was, you didn’t know what else to do. You hated to admit it, but you were nothing without him. You spent so long shaping yourself into the person he wanted and needed you to be, that you forgot how to be yourself. You forgot what your previous hobbies were, or what else made you happy besides him. Your world revolves around him, and without him, it felt like your world was coming to an exaggerated end.

So, you put up with it. Each and every time.

It wasn’t till today, the day of Charlie’s fathers arrival to the grand hotel Alastor managed to put together and run, that you’d ever seen him so genuinely with any sort of nerves.

The moment Lucifer walked in, in all his glory, Alastors personality took a flip. He went toe to toe with the ruler of Hell himself, all because he was afraid of someone who he knew had more power than him. But Alastor wasn’t a weak man, not at all, and that’s why he made it his mission to piss off Lucifer as much as he could.

You’d never seen him this way before. With you? Yes, but with other people? Never. He was cunning and every word he spat at Lucifer dripped with malice and confidence. Alastor knew he couldn’t beat him with power, so he hit him where he knew it would hurt. His family. Specifically, the only one he had left.

What Alastor didn’t expect, was for Lucifer to become completely and utterly smitten with you. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he’s been all smiles and giggles with you.

He listened when you talked, even the little small words or sentences no one cared to listen to. His lips against the top part of your hand when you first met was the only thing that circled your mind for days. His lips were plush and warm, soft and tender. It was a contrast to the kisses Alastor left you of pity and forgiveness.

He was sweet, and undeniably handsome. He made you feel ways you’d never felt before. He made you feel like you had a choice. A voice that wouldn’t be spoken over and genuinely listened to. He was charismatic, in a way like Alastor, but it was real. His smiles were real, as were the sweet nothings he said to you.

For weeks, you snuck around with Lucifer. At night, when Alastor was fast asleep, you’d sneak out from under his watchful arm and find your way to Lucifers room. His arms were more welcoming, and warm. His kisses sweeter than honey and his love as gold and bright as they come.

His voice was soft, and vibrant as he hummed against your ear. The fingers that raked through your hair were gentle and soothing, calmed you to your slumbers that comforted you through the night. His smell was intoxicating; cider and musk, like an orchid full of ripe apples. The two rosey spots on his cheek shined in hue when you’d enter the room.

I didn’t take long for Alastor to notice. He want a dumb and oblivious man. He was a ruthless overlord who couldn’t afford to look past the little things. He noticed the stares that the two of you sent when in a room full of people. The lingering touches no one else noticed when you brushed passed each other.

And most of all, they way you’d slip from his grasp in the dark of the night like he was stupid.

He knew, of course. He knew the whole time. And he let you let yourself believe that there was any other choice besides him. He allowed you, from the goodness of his heart, to feel a speck of the freedom you longed for. He let you grasp it and cradle it with all your might, just to draw you back in by the chains that shackled you to him for eternity.

He liked knowing that he controlled you. It fueled the god complex he had, knowing that no matter what you tried to do, you’d always be his. His to love, his to fuck, his to torment.

He mocked you for it, too. Rubbing it in your face that you were chained to him for as long as you’d live in hell. Suicide crossed your mind a few times, the only way you saw yourself out of it—yet, you knew that no matter what life you had next, you’d still always belong to him in some way, shape, or form.

You should’ve known better. Should’ve known that you could never be happy. Should’ve known that Alastor knew the whole time. Yet you were naive enough to think you were smart enough to go behind his back with a person he detested the most. The one person who could easily kill him with a blink of an eye.

Alastor would never say it out loud, because he knew deep down that he would never win against Lucifer. So, he did what he does best, and he took it out on you.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be any different from any of the other nights you left Alastors bedroom.

You lay in another man’s arms, his chest rising and falling beneath you as soft breaths slipped past his pale lips. Lucifer looked especially beautiful like this. His white skin glistening in the dull lighting of the room, and his streaky blonde hair ran through messily against the plush pillow.

You wished you could stay in this very moment forever. You’d rather spend an eternity admiring Lucifer for all his greatness, than suffering in Alastors darkness miserably.

You never told Lucifer about the way Alastor treated you behind closed doors. You knew that if you did, Alastor would be dead without a second thought. It crossed your mind a few times, obviously. How could it not? It was your only way out. The only thing that stopped you was the fact that Alastor wasn’t always like this.

He wasn’t always a bad person towards you. In the beginning, he tried to make you as comfortable as possible. He made you happy, and lively. His presence didn’t make you want to cower away in a corner, and his stare made you flush red, as bright as the color of his hair.

After all he’s put you through, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt shoot through you each time you looked back at Alastor asleep in your shared bed. He never cheated on you. The one of many things he’s never done, yet here you were, every so happily cheating on him. You felt like a two-timing snake, and you knew if he found out that he’d feel betrayed.

With that thought, you slipped from under Lucifer’s heavy arm, watching with soft eyes as he muttered under his breath at the loss of your warmth against him. You kissed his cheek and whispered a goodbye as you exited his room, softly shutting the door behind you. Your finger glided along the walls of the hallway, all the way till you found yourself outside of Alastors room.

You inhaled deeply, reaching for the doorknob, twisting it ever so slowly. Your entered the dark abyss of the room, shutting the door softly behind you with a wince as it creaked lightly. Damned this old ass building.

What you didn’t expect, was for Alastor to press against you from behind.

His breathing was uneven, and sharp as his chest still moved up and down slowly. You froze. You felt your dead heart stop as if you were alive. It seemed like oxygen didn’t exist anymore as you gaped, jaw slightly fallen slack as your eyes lined with tears. Your body shook as his hand traveled to the bed of your throat, craning your neck back to meet his eyes painfully.

“A-Alastor—” you gaped. He clicked his tongue. “Hm, silly girl. You really thought I was unaware of your whore-ish activities?” He chuckled out, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Wait, please—” you began, but you didn’t get a chance to think of what to say next as he slammed your back onto the bed.

You tried desperately to crawl away from him, but within a second, chains tied you down to the bed frame. You wracked with sobs and please of despair. He stood silently for a moment, watching the way you crumbled so easily without him even having to really do anything.

“How dare you.” He hissed out after a moment. Climbing on top of your tense frame, he pinched your cheeks together and watched as tears ran down your cheeks pathetically. “I give you everything you could possibly need. I make sure you’re alive with a roof over your head and out of the clutches of hells streets, and this is how you repay me? By sleeping around with men?” He growled through his sharp teeth.

His smile was formed still, but more into a scowl of displeasure. His antlers were grown and prominent as he began to shift to his demon form that you hadn’t seen since the first time youd met him that fateful day. He was like a rabid animal, drool slipping through the cracks of his jagged teeth as his body became large and monstrous.

This was it. This how your soul would finally be put to rest. By the claws and bared teeth of a monster with the facade of a charming, hotel manager. Not the way you’d want to go out, but hey, at least your were gonna get out of it, right?

Or so you thought.

His claws, sharp as knives tore through your shirt, ripping it off of your figure and discarded onto the floor. Your white lace bra on display in front of him. Your pajama pants adorned with cheesy pandas torn to shreds alongside your favorite sleeping shirt. But all you could think about was the abnormally large bulge hard and prominent against your inner thigh.

God, you hated yourself. You danced along the line of lust, fear, and hatred. Hatred for him, mostly. You hated that you loved Lucifer—yet your body yearned to be used and played with at the hands of Alastor.

The sweet sex, praises and butterfly kisses Lucifer showered you was amazing, but this—this was different. The way Alastor fucked you was different. Yes, he was rough and fucked hard—but this was his way of showing you that he loved you. It was peculiar, to say the least. A man so easily able to use his words to fluster anyone couldn’t look you in the eye to tell you that he loved you.

So he fucked you like he hated you. But you knew what he meant.

His finger hooked under the middle of your bra, effectively slicing upwards to cut it in half. Your breasts sprang free, and your nipples hardened under the tense, cold air. You squirmed as his breath fanned against them, his long tongue shooting out to lick against them tenderly.

He played tricks on you. It was his favorite game. Giving you false hope. Dangling things he knew you longed for in front of you, only to yank it right back. Killing every last good thing you had left till you had absolutely nothing but him.

So you should’ve known better than to trust his soft tongue kitten licking your nipple. His sharp teeth bit down—hard enough to draw specks of blood around it. You yelped out in pain as your eyes lined with fresh tears waiting to be spilled over. The pain was dreadful, but god, did it feel good.

Alastors thumb trailed to lower, tracing down to your stomach till he reached your cotton panties, dampened with your arousal. “What a slut. Getting off on this. You should be ashamed of yourself, darling.” He mocked out with a cunning smile. He didn’t think twice before ripping your panties off.

He fumbled for second with his pants, unzipping them before letting them reach low enough just to pull his cock out. “Now, I’m gonna fuck this cunt till I’ve had enough, and after that, you’re going to go into the small-dicked-duck fanatics room with my cum dripping down your thighs and tell him just how good I fucked you.” He growled out, his hand finding it’s way back to your throat, squeezing tightly as he lined himself to your entrance.

“Alastor, please just listen—i” his cock bullied is way into you. Long, and thick. 9 inches of pure, heavy meat sat snugly inside of you, playing with your insides. He was perfectly trimmed, and his balls heavy balls slapped against the underside of your pussy with each agonizingly perfect thrust he delivered into you.

“Oh, oh fuck!” You moaned out, head thrown back as your hand clenched onto the chains that bound you to your bed post. “Tight little pussy. Tell me, does he fuck you like this, baby?” He panted out as he watched the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He always thought you were the prettiest like this. Underneath him, writhing in pleasure, cock drunk and hungry for him. The only time you didn’t resent him. The only time you wanted him. He cherished this, not that he would ever say it out loud.

“I asked you a fucking question.” He said, slapping the side of your face harshly, leaving a painful sting behind. You whimpered at the familiar impact. “No, Alastor!” You all but screamed out as his cock kissed your cervix.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed loudly, and the smell of hot sex was in the air. A distinctive, vile smell. Your body was lined with sweat, as was his, and your breasts bounced each time his hips met flush against your ass. All you could think about was him.

He consumed your thoughts, plaguing your mind. You couldn’t escape him. And as of right now, you weren’t sure you even really wanted to all along.

Some sick part of you enjoyed this relationship you were in. The part that liked to be put in your place, and told what to do in return for praises of affirmations. A relationship that never got boring, and always kept you on your toes no matter what. Traumatic? Definitely. Toxic? 100%. But, this is what you had to endure. The least you could to was learn to like and deal with it.

You clenched down tightly onto him as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly, his dick hitting every right spot, including the little nerve of your g-spot inside of you. The angle he had your hips positioned in hit it better, and he could tell you were close when your cunt began to pulse around him.

“Please, please, I’m gonna cum!” You babbled on and on, drunk on the feeling of him inside of you. He chuckled as he pulled your head up by the root of your hair, just enough to have your lips crashing down onto his. “Fucked you stupid, honey, i know.” He cooed out against your lips.

He tasted bitter. Like whiskey and old cigars, mixed with a strange tea refreshment. It was an odd combination, but one that suited him indefinitely. His tongue swirled and glided against yours as they fought for dominance in a sloppy, and surprisingly passionate kiss. One that said what he didn’t have to out loud. ‘You’re mine’. He won the fight for dominance, and he sloppily suckled your tongue into his mouth.

The kiss was nasty, sloppy with saliva dripping down your chin and a few cuts on your lip from his sharp teeth clashing against them, but it was the least of your concerns as he rested his forehead against yours, nearing his end.

“I’m gonna fill this pussy up. Nice and full so everyone will know in dues time just who the fuck you belong to.” He growled out through clenched teeth. You shook your head back and forth, your eyes widening with fear. “No, don’t! Please don’t!” You begged, on and on, but to no avail.

His thrusts became harsher, and more demanding. Chasing his high aimlessly as you begged and moaned out his name underneath him. It was then that you felt it. His cock balls deep when you felt it began to swell up inside of you.

You gasped in shock as you were stretched painfully to your limit, the bulge in your lower stomach large and prominent as he pressed against it, triggering your orgasm. Your juices flushed out of you and all over his lower abdomen, and he groaned at the sight. You clenched down onto him impossibly tighter and he felt like he was gonna lose his mind.

“Pull out. Please pull out.” You desperately tried to reason with him, but he didn’t care as he sat snug inside of you, his knot finally emptying inside of you. It was warm, and you could feel it drip down your ass when his cock finally fell flaccid and limp, slowly pulling out of you.

“Maybe now, you’ll learn your lesson. You must be a fool to think that anyone could ever love you like i do.” He said, shaking his head. He bit his lip with a satisfied smile as he watched his mounds of cum pour out of you. “Milked my cock so well.” Was the only praise that slipped past his lips the rest of the night.

He didn’t allow you to clean yourself, only letting you thrown on a pair of panties from the drawer in his bedroom. Your inner thighs were slick and sticky with his warm, salty cum. “Run along now, dear. Come back when you’re finished.” He said in a singing tone, knowingly.

A flame rose in your core of embarrassment as you waddled out of the room, the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs growing by the second. It was humiliating, doing the walk of shame down the hallway, all the way to your now past lovers room.

A soft knock was laid on his door, and after a silent, dreaded minute of standing there, his door fell open. There you stood, in nothing but panties. Bite marks around your nipples and your neck prominent with a lingering bruise from the grip he held on your neck. His eyes trailed down to the cum slick between your plush thighs.

His eyes widened.

“The fuck happened to you?”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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[cdbabymp3]

can u write something about hamzah being nervy for his first time w u cus he’s a virgin 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 i’d actually go insane

𐙚the first time ― hamzahthefantastic

notes/warnings: nsfw !! reader is slightly more experienced than hamzah this might be the first and last time i write a full length fic for this acc i went through every stage of grief making this

it started super innocent. a couple kisses exchanged in the kitchen while making dinner together. you guys had decided to have a little fancy date night at home, since it was pouring rain outside. hamzah lit candles and everything. while eating dinner, you can feel his energy radiate off of him, like he's longing for something but won't quite say what. usually he's pretty straightforward with his feelings, hating to beat around the bush, but right now... this was not the case.

"is everything alright?" you ask softly, as he gets up to clear your empty plates

he places the plates in the sink, looking up at you, "uh, yeah? why? does it seem like something's up?' he speaks a mile a minute, now clumsily rinsing the dirty dishes

"well, no. i don't know, you just seem like there's something on your mind." you further, he keeps his gaze down at the dishes, scrubbing and rinsing far more than what's needed. is he stalling?

"nah, i'm fine, don't worry." he lies poorly, grabbing a rag and starting to dry the plates. his eyes are still failing to meet yours, a tell-tale sign he's not being honest.

dating for 4 months, intimacy and sex was a topic hamzah always found a way to tip toe around. yes, you guys have talked about sex before, but it was never in a serious way. he would always make a joke to the only way you even found out about his lack of experience was during a drunken night, trying to get him into bed to sleep.

"wait, hold up-i've never done this before, i've never done this before, i've never done this before... y/n wait...." he slurred out, delirious laughter quickly turning into panicked muttering

the memory burns in the back of your mind, even more so because he hasn't brought up that night since, nor do you think he even remembers.

he's still drying an already-dry-plate with so much force, that the plate dwindles nearly in and out of his grip. he bites the inside of his cheek, eyes narrow. something's festering, it's so plain to see.

"are you sure? because you can tell me if it's-"

before you could get another word out, the plate he was holding slips out of his hand, hitting the kitchen floor and breaking into a million pieces.

"fuck." he sighs, throwing the rag into the sink angrily and puts a hand over his eyes

you step over to him slowly, trying to avoid the ceramic shards on the floor.

"hamzah-"

"no, don't come over here. let me clean it up first." he removes the hand from his eyes, revealing you standing a foot away with a hand extended towards him to reach for. he thinks on it for a moment, but takes it, walking out of the kitchen and into your embrace.

"what's going on, hm?" you rub his back, trying to calm him down

"it's so fucking embarrassing, y/n, trust me. i can't even say it out loud." he mumbles, releasing himself from the hug and taking a seat on the couch

you follow him, sitting in the adjacent chair. waiting patiently for him to speak, you give him a reassuring smile. it's silent for so long and at this point, you start to catch onto what has him so distraught; the only milestone in your relationship that's been left unconquered. you can practically see the cogs in his brain turning and processing how he wants to go about telling you this information. to save him from his spiraling, you decide to intervene. "you know i don't care, right?" vague enough not to scare him from the topic, but hopefully enough to allude to what he's trying to say.

"care about what?" he frowns, head titled

"remember that night when you got really drunk and i had to drive us home? and you were super delirious, so i had to help you get ready for bed?" he simply nods, still not seeing where you're going with this. "well-um, when i was helping you change out of your clothes and get into bed, you kept repeating 'i've never done this before' over and over again. i didn't want to assume you meant it that way, but..."

he now puts not one, but both hands over his eyes, sheer humiliation hits him like a 50-foot wave. "oh my fucking god, that's so embarrassing."

"what- no, no, no. it's okay, trust me. it's okay, hamzah, seriously."

he hunches over so his elbows rest on his knees, face in his palms, as he's trying to process this. "i-wow... you knew this whole time too, that's crazy." still reeling, he laughs nervously.

"hamzah, it literally changes nothing for me. i just want you to feel comfortable enough to talk to me about it." you get up and sit next to him, putting a hand on his thigh for comfort.

"i know, i know. i was gonna say something tonight," he lifts his face from his hands, "that's why i was so wound up, i think...nerves, you know?"

"yeah, i understand."

"i feel really guilty sometimes... like, that we haven't done anything. i don't want you to think that it's because i don't want to- i do, i really do. i don't know why, but i get so nervous anytime we're in the moment and it could happen. i always chicken out. i just want it to be good for you..."

your heart melts at his confession. "hey, no, don't feel guilty. i'm willing to wait. whenever you're ready, i'm ready." your hand leaves his thigh and rubs his back the way he likes. he snickers and your hand pauses. "what?"

"that's what i was gonna talk to you about; whether or not you wanted to, um...tonight?"

"oh! i-"

"i mean, if you don't want to, we don't have to. i thought that it seemed like a good night since it's just us and the rain outside is honestly kinda romantic, i don't know, maybe i-"

you put a hand over his mouth and you can feel him smile against your palm. "you're overthinking this."

"i-" his voice is muffled against your hand, so he lightly takes your wrist and removes it. "i'm overthinking, but also have no idea what the fuck to do. i mean-i know 'what to do' in a biological sense, but like-" he catches himself in the middle of another ramble and nods knowingly, shaping his lips into a thin line.

"we can take it slow, yeah? just breathe..." you whisper, the hand that was once placed on his back slithering to the back of his head, causing him to turn his face to you.

"okay." he matches your tender volume, allowing his body to relax with a long exhale

you wait for all the air to peacefully leave his lungs before grabbing his hand and getting up. it takes him a second, but he obliges as you lead him into his bedroom. you give him a quick kiss, crawling onto the bed as he follows suit.

"c'mere" you coo

he can't hide the excitement on his face, getting on the bed with urgency and positioning his frame above yours. you wrap your hands around the back of his head and engulf him in a heated kiss. one arm stabilizes him above you, while the other holds your hip. this he's done with you before, this was his comfort zone. what comes next is new and surprises you. his hand glides from your hip, up your torso to your right boob, giving it a squeeze over your shirt. a pleased sigh gets caught in your throat and you feel his hand hesitate, so you put a hand on top of his to continue. it's funny because you can tell he does actually know what to do, but it's obvious that doing with an actual person is throwing him off a little. after a moment or two, he moves on to your other boob, giving it equal attention. you start to play with the hem of his shirt, which he's quick to notice and pulls off. his lips connect with your neck this time and the contact makes your stomach feel incredibly warm. his position in between your legs gives you easy access to his toned chest and torso, so you slide your hands from his collarbones down to right before the waistline of his pants as he continues to his ministrations on your neck. this earns a low hum from him, the vibration of the sound against your neck makes you giggle. he giggles too, happy that some of his nervous tension is being relieved. some minutes pass and you feel what will be a generously sized hickey tomorrow morning planted just below your jaw as hamzah's mouth leaves the skin to breathe.

"um... i should probably get you out of these." his fingertips ghost under the band of your midi skirt and underwear, to which you nod more desperate than you mean to. he cracks his famous grin before sliding the skirt down your legs. once it reaches your ankles you kick it off. he looks down at your black, lacy underwear and blinks slowly. in this brief pause, you take the liberty to peel off your top. to hamzah's delight, your bra matches your underwear with a pink bow in the center.

"you're so cute" he beams, kissing your lips, mouth then heading down between your cleavage to your navel. he leaves sloppy, open-mouthed kisses until he reaches the thin line of your underwear, giving your clothed-clit a sweet kiss.

"mmh" your hips jerk up involuntarily

"yeah? that good, baby?" he asks genuinely, his innocent voice starkly contrasting how his fingers loop around your underwear and drag them down your thighs. feeling your underwear completely off, you sit up to rid yourself of your bra but he clicks his tongue. "i got it."

"oh, you got it?" you tease and he rolls his eyes

"shh" he pulls one of the straps down your shoulder, enough to kiss where it previously was before reaching behind and undoing the clasps swiftly. the garment slips down your arms and he catches it, tossing it alongside the rest of your discarded clothes. "jesus..." his eyes widen, your bare chest on full display for him. he leans down, about to take a nipple to into his mouth when you place a hand on his cheek to stop him. "wh-do you not want me to do that?"

"no, baby, it's not that. it's just-" you take his hand and guide it down to your core, allowing his fingertips to brush past your wetness.

he raises his eyebrows at the feeling, getting your not-so-subtle hint. "oh...i-okay, you're, like, ready, huh?" his voice quivers, a rhetorical question but it's so endearing. "here-uh, lemme get a condom." he leans and extends an arm across you to his bedside table. nervously fumbling with the drawer, he grabs the packet and situates himself back between your legs. in the same position as before, one arm holding himself up and the other putting the packet between his teeth to open, you put a hand on his arm and laugh.

"hamzah, your pants."

"oh, shit, i forgot. hold up," he says, the condom packet still between his teeth as unbuttons his pants and slides them off along his underwear in no time. you can tell by the look on his face, he's getting shy, so you let him do things at the pace he wants. you swear you blink and he's already rolled the condom onto himself, positioning his body inches from where you need him. he looks conflicted, so you cup his face to let him know you're here. "i was already a nervous wreck before, but it just hit me now even more..." he confesses just above a whisper, his cheek feels hot with self-consciousness as you caress it

"do you want some help?" you offer and his eyes soften, visibly grateful that he didn't have to verbally ask you.

"sorry." he apologizes

"no it's okay, baby, here-" you put a hand on top of the one that he holds himself with and move him closer and closer to your entrance. his tip makes contact and you bite your lip, moving him along your arousal to lessen the pain you assume will come based on how sizable he feels. "i'm gonna go slow, okay? it's been a while since i last did this..." you admit, carefully pulling his hand so that his tip only makes it past your folds. his chest starts to rise and fall, his glued to yours and not daring to leave.

"y/n..." he moans, feeling himself finally enter you

the stretch alone has you grabbing for his bicep, mouth open in shock. "fuck" you gasp, trying to adjust to his size.

his eyes scan yours, seeing your discomfort bubbling. "should i stop? am i hurting you, baby?" he starts to panic

"no, i'm okay, just keep going. you can m-move now, if you want." you pant out eagerly and he does as told, pulling back, but not out and thrusting back in nice and slow. he starts to find a rhythm and repeats this at the perfect cadence.

"there you go, you got it-ah" you praise him, which only works him up more, rutting into you now with more haste than ever; he's finally getting comfortable. your nails drag down his broad back, making him whine into your neck, hitting a spot inside you no one's hit before. he knows way more than he thinks. you can feel him start to chase his release, twitching as his sounds start to rise in pitch.

"baby, i think i'm gonna-fuck!" his hips snap and stagger with one final thrust, the coil in his stomach snapping vigorously. his high leaves him trembling above you, barely able to hold up his weight.

"virgin no more" you whisper dramatically, brushing his black curls out of his eyes, a sheer layer of sweat making them stick to his skin a bit.

"b-but you didn't cum... i came in like fucking 3 minutes and you didn't-"

you interrupt him with a kiss, different than the ones you were sharing moments ago. this one held something more than lust or desire.

"i don't care, i'm proud of you." you rest a thumb on his full bottom lip, toying with it. "plus, it was your first time, not your last. you can make it up to me."

so fucking anxious to post this 🥸 yes there will be a pt.2! idk when quite yet bc i'm gonna need a couple days to recover from this

send in hc requests !!! i enjoy writing those a lot and can get them done quicker <333

໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა taglist ; @forevergirlposts , @junebugin-july , @itgirlvirgo (lmk if u wanna be added !!!)

#jules speaks !! 🐻ིྀ #hamzahthefantastic #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzahthefantastic imagines #hamzahthefantastic x you #hamzahthefantastic headcannons #slushy noobz #cdbabymp3

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Mr. Gaiman,

As an accomplished author with several books under his belt, how do you know that a story is a dud for lack of a better word? I have a million ideas bouncing around inside my head at all times, and while I consider them good ideas worth pursuing, how am I sure they will make a good story?

I ask this because I have been dwelling on something one of my professors said last semester. He held a seminar on poetry and got to the topic of fiction writing, where he stated that he had just recently finished a story he had rewritten several times over the course of multiple years. Now I myself write as a hobby with a faint imagining that someone might see it in the future, and I have written a dud or two, where the plot was poorly formed and the ideas behind it just had a flaw somewhere in the base concept. Perhaps this is my youth and amateurity speaking, but I was under the impression that given enough time and care, any story could recover from that stage so long as it had not been completed yet. Ideas would need to be reworked, concepts retooled, characters redrawn, but the very basic idea could still survive in a different format.

My professor disagreed, stating that he has destroyed 400-500 page novels that he has written before upon realizing said fatal flaw. He stated that the story was in a state that it could not recover from, and that many authors encounter ideas that seem good at the time, but stink later on to such a degree that the basic premise must be thrown out. This seems like a tremendous loss of work to me. As writing is an art form, it feels somewhat similar to destroying practice sketches and 'meh' oil paintings that showcase the artist's progress. An idea that stinks today might be able to work from a different angle later on in my opinion.

I suppose after rambling my question is now this: are some ideas and concepts just not worth pursuing? Are some story concepts flawed from the get-go and impossible to save, and is there a way to tell that before writing the whole thing? Is it even possible to waste that time as you're getting in practice for the next tale?This isn't something I ever really thought about before being told in sure tones that this is how things work by someone with a degree is this, so I figured I'd ask the professional author for a second opinion. Apologies for the length of the message, especially if this is one you've received before.

I have things that have stalled and a few stories that, when they were done, went to the box in the attic rather than to anyone who could publish them (there's a whole novel there I wrote when I was 21). But mostly because I was writing serial comics, failure was not an option, and if something did fail it had done it in public for everyone to see. And I learned that some things I thought were failures had actually worked really well.

Some people are afraid of failure. Some people are afraid of success, which can also be a good reason for junking books and never showing them to anyone. As long as you pronounce them irretrievably flawed and show them to nobody, you will never be judged for them or have to deal with either success or failure.

[ghostingcrows]

I used to talk about this a lot but 

IDW Prowl is probably one of the most complex characters in the comics and I absolutely hate it when hes reduced down to “the asshole character”

Cause like

Yeah sure hes got a bit of a stick up his ass

But I feel like people just end there analysis of him there

Has he committed a lot of war crimes and done unethical stuff

Yes

But so has literally EVERYONE else in this universe

Starscream is literally the pinnacle of war crimes

The comics make a point calling out even Optimus for his questionable actions and orders during the war with the Dinobots saying he makes them do the dirty work for him

Megatron literally commits genocide and yet his story ends with an alternate version of him going free and exploring the universe with the LL

The literal war lord was treated better and is looked upon more positively than Prowl and I think it just came down to how fucked Prowl got by the writers

Because while Megatrons redemption was all in your face and you got a shit ton of flashbacks that try to justify the eventual atrocities he would commit you don’t get that with Prowl

Even when Prowl is absolutely in the right you constantly have it disregarded by characters making jokes about him overreacting (being mad OP is sending the space tyrant away with free reign of his own ship isn’t overreacting btw-) and as such you start to think of him as a genuinely irrational character when hes not

Prowl is bad at keeping the relationships he forms yes 

But he is not always at fault for that

While his relationship with CD ended poorly Chromedome is also shown to be kinda of a dick sometimes and commits his fair share of fucked up things such as when he literally ATTACKS PROWL AND FORCES HIS WAY INTO HIS MIND TO PROTECT HIMSELF FROM THE CONSEQUENCE OF HIS ACTIONS WHEN PROWL THREATENS TO TELL REWIND ABOUT THE SHITTY STUFF HE DID IN HIS PAST

This leads to Prowls inevitable snowball out of control when this attack leads to an opening for Bombshell (I think its been a while since I read the comics) to use his tech to mind control him forcing him into combining with the contructicons

Something we learn is an immensely intimate thing with their minds being kinda melded 

This was something Prowl did not want 

And when all was said and done and he was calmed down he still had to live with that gesalt he was forced into with them following him around like fanboys

Nobody ever even really stopped to check in on him 

And as such he understandable went a little bit insane

He had just faced an immensely traumatic invasion of his body and mind and on top of stress form feeling like everything was out of his control and like he couldn’t stop the bad things from happening alongside bitter emotions being brought back up with a return visit to Earth and reunion with spike AND the fact that he feels like Optimus doesn’t trust him and like hes just letting Starscream do whatever he want (something that understandably freaks him out seeing as how he spent 4 million years fighting Starscream) he just kinda snaps

He trys to destroy the space bridge so that no one else can leave or get through and so he can regain some semblance of control

Is it wrong

Yes

But he was not in a good state of mind and no one was helping him at all 

And immediately following his arrest afterward Prowl is confronted by OP who is supposed to be his friend and when Prowl doesn’t say the right things to him to placate him Optimus’ response is to punch him out a window and beat the shit out of him

And not being given any room to breath this is immediately follow up my him getting kidnapped by Tarantulas who is very obviously an impactful and negative part of his past

Prowl just has bad event, one after the other, happen to him over and over again and not only does no one check up on him afterwards to see if hes okay but everyone actively makes fun of him for being understandable unstable

Prowl is a fucking tragedy and not many people seem to be able to see beyond what characters in the comics think of him

#IDW #Prowl #IDW prowl #Asher writing entire essays about the complex nature of a character most people hate- #I will defend IDW Prowl to my death #and I know a lot of people like to point fingers at him for war crimes and questionable actions #but like again almost everyone in IDW has commited a few war crimes #and he was literally the second in command of the entire army #of course he would have had to take on the brunt of the shitty questionable orders #I also think its weird that so many characters point out hes always the one ordering the shitty stuff but never wants to get his hands dirty #but then OP does the same thing and literally ONLY the dinobots point it out #optimus prime #megatron #lost light #taurantulas #starscream

[lets-try-some-writing]

okay but what about robots in disguise?? its not a favorite of mine but it’s still pretty good. russel and his dad are decent lol

Frag that show.

It disrespected TFP on every level and for that it has my eternal hatred and contempt. The humans were annoying, and I HATED how many interesting plot threads there were that were either done poorly or with so little tact that the writing team should have just scrapped it. The designs are tolerable, but I hate how canon TFP characters lost so much of their individuality in their designs (coughtheopticscough). Smokescreen is fricking GONE, which bothers me more than I care to admit. We see the rest of the team enough to be reasonable, but they all appear in ways that don't really make me happy.

Ratchet was done well enough in my opinion. I like his RID design. It suites him. Optimus's design can go die in a hole, they brutalized that mech. Same with Jazz. Frag those stupid shoulder pads.

Grimlock is fun, I appreciate Sideswipe, although his helm hair thingies I think need a redesign to make sense in relation to his alt mode. Strongarm was HORRIBLY underutilized and I hardly saw any character growth in her. Drift and his crew were interesting, but similarly not given much room to grow. I really liked Windblade for the most part, especially the episode where she tries to baby Optimus and comes out having relearned that Op is still a PRIME with MILLIONS OF YEARS OF WAR EXPERIENCE.

The Primes who've done nothing but sit on their rears had NO RIGHT to belittle Optimus at every turn. Nor did the show have the right to make him an idiot for the sake of making Bee look smarter. As @nova--spark has pointed out, the personality Bee got in the show matches Smokescreen better. Bumblebee wouldn't have SUCKED so much at the whole leadership shtick. What happened to all that skill shown in the movie huh? HUH WRITING TEAM????!??!?!

While I am on this train. OPTIMUS DIED SO GOSH DARN LEAVE HIM ALONE!!! He should have stayed deceased, or if they REALLY needed him back, he should have either returned as an Civi or came back with actual issues. Like dang hear me out mate.

Optimus is forcefully returned to life, beats the Fallen with his borrowed power, but then has to actually deal with the consequences of essentially being a walking bomb for a while. Make him start losing plating, make his frame HURT, make him slim down again into the TFP base design. Just, give him a reason to have to sit back and RECOVER. Not this whole half hearted limping around garbage. To add to that, don't baby the mech. Let him stay at base and fulfill the role Ratchet did in TFP. Let him use his knowledge to teach and offer wisdom, plan battles and locate enemies. For Primus's sake he could have gone undercover on Cybertron or something if they really needed him to go be useless elsewhere.

THEY COULD HAVE EVEN HAD AN ARC WITH HIM GIVING THE TEAM A WAKEUP CALL!!! SIdeswipe has no respect for the mission, Grimlock is a fool, Strongarm is too snarky, and Bee in this seems to have largely forgotten about the seriousness except for during key moments. They could have made Optimus a minor antagonist, forcing the team to follow wartime standards since they laid down this plot thread regarding issues between leadership styles and Optimus trying to take control of the operation more than once.

I would have paid money to see Optimus's wartime mentality show itself in the best and worst ways through how he worked with this group of non war vets on a Decepticon capture mission. Maybe even have him use lethal force once or twice, or at least hint at it so that people can be reminded that he is a mech who went to war, killed countless bots, and both drove their people to and saved their people from extinction.

Bee could have had to teach Optimus to calm down. He could have helped eased his leader out of his wartime mindset. Or following that whole council running Cybertron route, Optimus could have had his moment of being very much right when he points out WHY he fought at all and gestures towards the new council. There was SO MUCH potential in this show, so many good threads and interesting Decepticon character that could have given so much depth to the war and the aligned continuity as a whole, but they were almost ALL ignored.

*deep breath*

Alright, sorry about that. I have big feelings in regards to how dirty Optimus was done. Moving on, the Predacons were killed off supposedly and that pisses me off ESPECIALLY because it was done in a fricking offscreen setting. What the hell happened to Predaking??? WHERE DID HE GO????

Starscream's design was rad though, not going to lie.

Where is Shockwave? No seriously where is that fragger? After several years of the map he MUST have an army growing in a tank somewhere.

Soundwave. Why. ARe. YOU. HERE??!?!?!? I love you man but dang you are so out of place. He made sense in the context of trying to get to Megatron, but idk he felt like he deserved better. He should have been the big brain behind the Cons on Earth if you asked me. It would have made everything far more intense, especially if the Cons dont follow Decepticon creed as seen by Soundwave.

The humans were annoying. Sorry they just were.

Fixit is Primus's gift to RID and he's one of the few individuals who makes it less annoying. Idk, I just like him in reasonable doses.

WHERE ARE THE TFP KIDS?! WHY HAS BEE NOT CALLED THEM?? GOOD HEAVENS THERE IS A WHOLE SUBPLOT RIGHT THERE!!!

*yet another deep breath*

Apologies.

To put things simply, I would rather a group of fanfic writers put RID together than whoever the writing team was. They could have made a coherent story with deep characters that actually address the ramifications of millions of years of war and lingering functionalist mindsets. They would have done the lore and the world justice even if there were no main characters popping up.

I think RID has so much potential, but that almost all of it went right down the toilet due to either the higher ups sticking their noses where they don't belong or because the writing team couldn't go two minutes without retconning or otherwise destroying established everything.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #transformers rid2015 #lets try some writing mumbles #rant #bumblebee #team prime #optimus prime #bee team #post war cybertron #fic ideas #sorry but this frickin show made me so mad #I appreciated the ideas #execution deserved to be beheaded

[morganski-19]

Things I Won't Say When I'm Sober: Part Two

part 1, part 3

“Ok, dingus I’m back from the bathroom so Eddie can get out and you can tell me your- Why are you two sitting so close?” 

Steve sits up abruptly, breaking the bubble he and Eddie had. “We weren’t.”

He feels the need to scoot away, to hide the fact that he and Eddie were close. As if someone walked into the room and found them cuddling, or kissing. Needing to not be associated with whatever moment they were just having before. 

Disgust fills Steve with the thought. He’s never had that reaction to anyone he’s dated before. If anything, he would purposely make it seem like they were having a moment, make it clear that he was interested. But now that seems to be the last thing that he wants. Like he is ashamed of his feelings for Eddie. 

Which he isn’t, most of the time at least. There are moments were he thinks that he’s wrong. Moments where he is so sure that he’s just making it all up. That is definitely straight and this is all just something else that Steve can’t quite explain. Even though the only explanation that would explain this is that he has a crush. Now it’s become less of a reaction, but sometimes the fear slinks back in. 

So he runs away sometimes, because of the fear. The fear that this is the thing that will finally break him. That these feelings will destroy the friendship that he and Eddie have built over the last few months. He’d never thought they’d get close to begin with. But what started with sitting in the hospital room for days on end, needing to make sure that Eddie made it turned into one of the best friendships of his life, only behind Robin. He’d hate to ruin that because of some stupid feelings. 

Except they weren’t stupid. They were probably the most real thing that Steve’s felt for a long time. 

Robin squints her eyes suspiciously at Steve. “Ok,” she drags out. “Just looked closer than when I left or something.” She walks back over to Steve, stumbling a bit as she sits down. “I’m tired,” she mumbles as she slumps onto Steve’s shoulder. 

“We can go if you want,” Steve responds. 

Eddie laughs. “Like I’m letting you drive right now. You’re staying here.”

“No, it’s fine I can drive us home.”

“Steve you just spent the last ten minutes giggling over some secret that you can’t tell me. Tell me that you’re in a state to drive right now.”

“Don’t forget about the hair,” Robin mutters, half asleep already.

Eddie springs up, leaning into Steve’s space. “And you played with my hair and called it soft.”

“You only have one bed,” Steve says anyway, very poorly trying to fight his way out of this. 

Eddie dramatically rolls his eyes. “So, one of you shares it with me, and the other sleeps on the couch. Or you both take the bed and boot me to the couch.”

“Like I’m ever laying a hand on that bed without a comforter over it. We all saw the stains,” Robin states. Steve’s fate is sealed, and there’s no getting out of it. 

“It’s a new mattress,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “The old one got destroyed in the quake.”

“My point still stands.”

“So me and Stevie take the bed and you go sleep on the couch then.”

Steve looks at the ground, playing with the carpet again. “I could just sleep on the floor,” he suggests as a last line of hope. 

“No, you won’t. My bed is big enough for two people, I’m not letting you ruin your back by sleeping on the floor.”

“But it’s soft,” he says without thinking. 

Robin snorts. “Like Eddie’s hair?”

Steve bursts out into giggles again. “His hair was very soft.”

“And this is why I’m not letting you drive. Come on Buckley, I’ll get you set up on the couch.” Eddie stands and extends a hand to help Robin up. She takes it and the two leave the room. 

Steve groans, falling back onto the floor and covering his face with his hands. He can’t believe that he’s about to do this. He wishes that him and Robin were the ones sharing the bed, it’s not like they’ve done it a million times before. Both too ridden from nightmares to sleep alone and it became so much easier to share a bed to calm the other of a nightmare. But now it’s different. Now it isn’t his best friend that is next to him, but the one person he wishes it were the most. 

He won’t lie to himself and say he hasn’t thought about this before. About what it would be like if he and Eddie shared a bed. Under what circumstances, that changed depending on the scenario. But sometimes it was like this. Just laying next to each other, slowly falling asleep. Sometimes in each other's arms, sometimes just comfortable knowing the other person is there. What would it be like in real life?

It would be figured out tonight, he guesses. He only hoped that it wouldn’t make things worse. That he wouldn’t act on all of the things he tried so hard to keep hidden. That they would wake up in the positions that they fell asleep in and not in each other's arms. Not that he thinks his sleep self would be able to do that, but more that his arms and legs wouldn’t become entangled in Eddie’s.

Just one night. He could survive that. Then he could return to normal and forget that this ever existed. That he never even let it slip that he had something to tell Robin and that he never shared a bed with Eddie at all. 

Eddie comes back into the room and opens a drawer, rustling around until he throws a pair of sweats at Steve’s face. “So you don’t have to sleep in jeans,” he muttered before pulling out another pair for himself. 

“Thanks,” Steve says, getting up and heading for the door, sweatpants in hand. Normally he’d be comfortable changing with someone else in the room, but he can’t trust himself to catch himself staring. He’d barely been able to do it all night. 

“Where’re you going,” Eddie yawns.

“Bathroom.” Eddie nods in response and Steve closes the door. 

He wanders down the hallway to the bathroom. Quickly changing, he looks at himself in the mirror. The high is starting to wear off but the signs still linger. His hair is a mess from laying on the floor but he doesn’t care to fix it, it’s just going to get messed up anyway. Rinsing his mouth out with water, he makes his way out of the bathroom. 

Peaking into the living room, he finds Robin all curled up on the couch. “Steve,” she mutters, blinded by the bathroom light. 

He patters over to the couch, “Yeah it’s me.”

“What’d you need to tell me, we’re alone now,” she slurs out, trying to fight off sleep. 

Steve doesn’t even know why he said anything. He had planned on telling her, sure. But now, when Eddie was in the room, that was stupid. But there was something about the moment and just seeing her there and feeling safe that made him want to tell her. Even if he regretted it as soon as the words came out of his mouth. 

“I’ll tell you in the morning, it’s not that important.”

Robin glares at him in the dark. “Then why couldn’t Eddie know about it then?”

“It was sort of about him,” he sighs, promising to tell her more when his mind is clearer. 

“Oh,” Robin responds, giving him a strange look he can’t decipher. 

“Yeah, oh. Just get some sleep, I’ll tell you about it later. Promise.”

He turns around and starts to head back to the room when Robin calls out, “Love you, dingus.”

“Love you too, Rob,” he whispers over his shoulder. 

Walking into the room he finds Eddie pulling down the sheets of the bed, changed into his pajamas. Without saying anything, he crawls into bed, gesturing to the empty space beside him for Steve. He left the side not pressed up against the wall, knowing that Steve likes to have easy access out of the bed. It was something that Steve never had to say, Eddie just noticed. 

He takes one last breath before crawling in bed next to Eddie, and tried to fall asleep.

another part coming soon!!

tag list: @imfinereallyy @estrellami-1 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @overhillunderhill @renaissan-vvitch @ashwagandalf @sirsnacksalot @lorelei724 @emly03 @super-cosmic-library @rozzieroos @dolphincliffs @henderdads @abyssal808 @evergreenprose @demolvr @steddiehyperfixation @stedumpsterfire @ent-is-indecisive @steddierthings @makeadealwithdean @kas-eddie-munson @extra-transitional @lunaticmarunatic @steveharringtonmilf @cardboardqueen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme

(i tagged anyone who asked or seemed interested in the first part. if you would like to be added or deleted for the next part lmk and I will do so.)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #ficlet #smoking #getting together #but not yet #angst #pining #things i wont say when i’m sober

[howdoesagrapewrites]

what wld lovesick pav and gaya be like w a s/o who tries to be like, healthy in their relationship? like they're not the "i wanna get away bc this is unhealthy" type, but the "i will actively tie you both down and make you communicate your feelings and wants in a healthy way until we can all reach a mutual agreement" way

like the two reach the stage where they don't want their love to leave the house at all- but they kinda quickly shut that down and are like "nuh uh. i have a life, so either we talk it out and find something that works for me and you two or i stay out five minutes past the curfew you set just to make you squirm"

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙞𝙩 𝙤𝙪𝙩

Cw: poly!reader x lovesick! Pavitr Prabhakar x lovesick!Gayatri Singh, explicit talk about mental health

Notes: all I can think about is the reader spraying then with a water bottle like a poorly behaved cat

>You went out of the apartment to get the grocery shopping done, your partners had been behaving oddly, they were always very affectionate and loved being around you, but lately you feel like they have been neglecting their personal life in order to be together

>You left the house when they were taking a nap, you didn't feel like you were sneaking out, just that you were doing chores while they slept

>You think about this as you examine the red apples deciding if you should buy them or not

>Your phone vibrates and you answer to a preoccupied Pavitr, you apologize for not telling them, but you didn't want to disturb them, when you're about to hang up, he hits you with "just wait, we're on our way"

>You're a little confused and annoyed by having to wait for them at the market without being able to continue the list of home necessities, but you tried to be understanding, and thought that maybe when you got home, you could start a conversation about what you've been thinking the whole afternoon

>When they arrived, the outing went smoothly, and happily, like you're used to

>After you finished organizing everything on the shelves and pantry, you started the conversation in a pretty straight forward manner, you didn't want to dance around the subject and talk about issues like they're anything aside a from a completely normal part of every relationship

>You said you wanted to talk, and they were visibly nervous, however, complied

>"So I've been noticing that you don't want to leave the house, and that you get really upset when I do leave, and it concerns me, I won't force you, but I'm your partner too, I'm here for both of you."

>I think these two would be one of the easiest characters to pull into therapy and get them to work through their issues, something that's surprising considering they would never accept this if you were dating individually

>The challenge here is definitely Pavitr, because like I've said a million times already, he's extremely delusional

>So it'll be hard to even make him realize there's an issue with his obsession, also you'll need to reassure him that you're not rejecting his feelings, but rather just want to work through a more positive and healthy way of expressing and processing those feelings

>"But I love you, why don't you love me too?"

>"Of course I do, Pav, but love isn't supposed to hurt"

>Gayatri has a more clear vision of where these issues stem from and will be more cooperative with communication with time

>At first she's closed to the idea, but when she sees how much you care and that you genuinely want to help her, she lets her guard down

>If you respond positively and don't show signs of fear or disgust when she tells you about her feelings, you get to hear, the most gruesome parts, but far from scared, you're proud she feels safe to verbalize and recognize toxic behavior

>I think Pavitr would use mindfulness as a coping strategy for the yandere tendencies, and Gayatri would turn to writing

>Some of Gayatri's pieces are morbid, sure, but it's better than having her do it, you praise the effort

>Sometimes they still relapse and snap at you or get too possessive, but you're having none of it

>You set clear boundaries and as hard as that is, they understand that they'll lose your trust and love if they are unwilling to be better

>I think there's a solid 8/10 chance of fixing them

#atsv x reader #atsv pavitr #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr x reader #gayatri singh #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr x gayatri #gayatri x reader #spiderverse pavitr #yandere pavitr #yandere pavitr prabhakar #pavitr prabhakar x you #pavitr Prabhakar x Gayatri Singh #gayatri singh x reader #pavitr headcanons

[ghostieeeee]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏: 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

Word count: 3.6K

Warnings: Possible spelling errors? :D

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

You've come to learn that in your current lifetime experience of schooling, high school is much like a jungle gym. The smooth concrete grounds were always littered with students, used at the disposal of others for leverage to fling themselves around; lockers were basically crashpads; and teachers did nothing but ignore the injured ones. Why would someone so simply walk from point A to B when they could find a million and one other ways to get there while having twice the fun?

Your answer would simply be because of safety regulations- or maybe it was just the fact that you couldn't deal with any form of confrontation from possible victims due to such annoying antics. Either way, it had proven that the irresponsibility of students and teachers alike had led the school to chaos, and you, for one, disliked it.

"Did you see the latest post on the muggie page?" Eunchae, probably the most social butterfly-like person within your very contained friend group blurted out, her eyes doe and her smile wide.

"Uh… no? I don't believe I did" Chaewon, the oldest of your bunch with the youngest patience replies, sharing a look of warning with Eunchae as the younger girl spins on her heel to walk backwards, causing her to become blind to her path.

"Wasn't it something about Soobin?" Inquires the taller of the group, Kazuha, also frequently labelled as the book worm for her love of most books.

"Yeah!" Eunchae snaps into grin, clicking her fingers into stretched finger guns,"apparently he's cheating to get ahead in maths"

You groan, rolling your eyes at your sister's poor habit of spreading rumours,"it's a photo, not a Wikipedia page. Where do these rumours even come from? They're almost always fake"

"Yeah, like, who would even believe that a hippopotamus broke into the school's bathroom?" Kazuha interjected, although her voice seemingly vanished after the word "believe" left her lips.

"There's pictures!"

"Eunchae, we don't need to see poorly edited pictures to believe anything," Chaewon almost huffs, having this been the third time today Eunchae has offered to show these so-called real photos. "Besides, it's all just for followers and attention. Remember Felix before he got expelled?"

"He got expelled because he threw a bucket of fish on someone-"

"Not just someone-" Eunchae interrupts Kazuha, holding out her hand,"it landed on the head teacher!"

"Even worse!" You whine,"Mrs Jang was there to stop Felix's madness, and it just so happened that she got caught in the crossfire of it all"

"None of that is the point!" Chaewon grumbles aloud, readjusting the books held between the muscles of her biceps and her ribs,"who cares about who got caught in the crossfire, who cares about the original target! All that matters is that his intentions were to gain in popularity, to ultimately gain followers for his bold and daring personality"

"God do I hate that boy…" Kazuha mumbles, eliciting what seemed to be a spell of silence over you four as you continue to walk in silence. What Felix had done won't be erasable, not to Kazuha and her dozen beloved books, at least, but you can at least try and forget the misery he put most students through.

You still remember the time you came back from gym class, only to find that your clothes had magically transformed into a tight crop top and a mini skirt. To say you were fuming was one thing, but to say your friends were ready to go on a rampage was another.

You release a content sigh however, upon the memory of Minji, Kim Minji, otherwise known as your secret girlfriend, who had been so quick to discreetly pull you aside and offer you the spare change of clothes she keeps for you. She always keeps a full outfit for you in the back of her own gym locker. You hadn't seen much point in the idea to begin with, but damn were you relieved when it actually came in handy.

Thinking back on it, you never did find your clothes again…

"Morning!" A familiar voice called out, so bright and bubbly with a coaxing of something else, something reluctant. It was the tender voice of the very person you were thinking about, Minji, and now she's standing only a few feet away, waving morning to those who pass her by with her signature smile.

On mornings like these, you'd walk past with your head down, minding your own business for the sake of your decision to keep your relationship with the school's "IT" girl private. However, something in you had you hooked on her smile today, and therefore had your eyes hooked on her as you walked past.

It was obvious Minji noticed, her eyes meeting and following yours till they no longer could. It was also obvious that it had made her morning all that much better- evident in the instant widening of her soft smile.

"Y/n, you have english first, right?" Eunchae was quick to unintentionally ruin the short moment, flinging her arm over your shoulder, her eyes boring into the side of your head as you quietly blush to yourself.

There was something different about Minji today… Maybe she was wearing a new soft toned shirt? Or maybe she did something new with her makeup? Either way, it had already devised its plan and plagued your mind with unanswered questions. Unanswered questions that needed to be solved.

"Y/n?"

"Huh?" You jolt back as a result of a small pinch to your forearm, your opposing hand rushing over to cover the new stinging sensation. You glare at Eunchae,"what?"

"You have english first, right?"

"Yes, I have english first. Why?"

Eunchae gives you a wicked grin, one you're sure could be fatal given the correct circumstance,"don't you have that new assignment, project thingy?"

"Shoot…" your eyes falter, neck growing limp as it sags slightly over your shoulders. "Why'd you remind me of that? I was having a decent morning, you know?"

"Oh? My bad?" She speaks with an insincere tone,"Just wanted to ask you who you'd pick to be your partner this time"

"Haha, funny joke munch"

"I told you to stop using that nickname years ago!" The slightly younger Hong whines, retracting her hand from your shoulder.

You roll your eyes,"Miss has never let us pick our partners, so there's no answer to that question"

"You need to have some hope," Chaewon speaks up, pushing her glasses up the thin bridge of her nose. It's been a while since Chaewon last wore glasses, so it was a welcoming sight to get used to.

"Yeah! And if your teacher does pair you with someone, I hope it'll be the boy from last time." Eunchae continues to grin, making stupid kissing faces with her lips impossibly puckered.

"Please no," you shudder out, remembering the laziness of his work ethic, but the proactive nature of his wanting to get to know you better. If it was a social experiment, you would've been somewhat alright with it- but it wasn't. "Let's just see if I can survive getting to class first"

"Why wouldn't you make it?" Truth be told, there were a thousand ways to answer that, a thousand possibilities of something happening. Possibly a fire drill; someone knocks you unconscious; maybe you'd be kidnapped; or the roof of the school gets ripped open and you could get abducted by aliens.

Maybe the last two examples were a little extreme… but never say never?

"Just look around us. Do you really think half of these people aren't secretly serial killers?"

"We're teenagers" Eunchae rolls her eyes,"were all serial killers in the making"

"But still, there's always a possibility"

"I'll see you guys later," Kazuha speaks, her tone almost making her sentence sound like a question more than anything else.

You, Eunchae, and Chaewon each respond with different farewells in unison, creating a mesh of jumbled words as your other friend heads into her class.

"Do you ever get the feeling that someone is secretly watching you?" Chaewon spurts out, causing you to raise an eyebrow at her inquiry.

"Yeah, all the time," you respond,"sometimes I swear Eunchae secretly watches me when I sleep"

"I don't do that," Eunchae almost snorts as she pinches your arm again, earning herself a slap in the process.

"Sounds like it most of the time…"

"We have paper thin walls!!"

"No we don't! You just have the need to know everything about me"

"Guys?" Chaewon interrupts. Albeit your little bickering session was entertaining, Chaewon genuinely couldn't shake the question off her mind.

"Sorry, sorry," you awkwardly laugh,"I've had the feeling once or twice- but like I said, it's almost always Eunchae," you shrug.

"And when it's not me?" Eunchae tilts her head in question, furrowing her eyebrows slightly.

"It's Kazuha waiting for me to fetch a book I offered to find for her"

"Eunchae?" Chaewon asks as you stop outside of your classroom door.

"I get people looking and staring at me all the time," your sister responds with a nonchalant tone, seeming far too careless about her explosive personality.

"Right…" Chaewon tugs a smile across her face, nodding slightly.

"Hey, it's okay. If anything happens, we're all just a phone call away. Right, sis?" You turn to see Eunchae enthusiastically nodding in agreement,"see?"

"Thanks guys" she shakes off the forced smile,"You should get inside your class" she nods to you.

"Yeah, I suppose so. I'll see you all at break, " you wave before turning. The last thing you hear is them saying goodbye before you're officially in the torture chamber of hell. The classroom.

Your designated seat was on the third row back, one depressing chair away from the love of your life- the window. The view is pretty nice up here too, so why must the teacher make you suffer this bad?

You lazily throw your bag against the metal leg of your desk before slumping into the paired chair. You could feel your back almost instantly grow sore at the uncomfortable furniture choice, but it's not like you could change that. Living with the suffering is your only option.

"Morning, everyone," a voice booms against the rest, threatening the bustling army of student voices into hushed whispers until they stop altogether. She coughs,"I'm not wasting any time here, you all know what's happening, so without further ado…" The woman pauses to grab a sheet of paper, her eyes hungrily scanning over the printed information.

"Yujin and Soyeon"

"Irene and Yiren"

"Hyunjin and Jeongwoo"

"Y/n and Haerin"

You gulp. Haerin? As in Kang Haerin? The Haerin that's friends with your girlfriend? That Haerin?

Were you really questioning what Haerin you had been partnered with? There's only one in your class, and as far as you know, the only other girl named Haerin in this school is two years below you. You were tempted to slap yourself, if only it wasn't for the attention it would place upon yourself.

Hesitantly, your eyes hoister upon the figure of your new partner for the next few weeks. She sat on the front row, closest to the door- she was basically completely across the room. You lean forward a tad, capturing what you could of her before someone else's head got in the way.

She looked half asleep in all honesty. You're not even sure if she's listening. Her half lidded eyes are barely focused on the teacher, and her smokey hoodie is drawn up to her mouth.

This was bad. The possible scenario of her finding out was at an all-time high, and you're not ready for that yet- you're not ready for any of that yet.

Your relationship is meant to be a secret, a rule imposed by you to keep your emotions in tact. Minji wasn't all too fond of the idea, but she accepted it nonetheless. It's been hurting you as much as it's been hurting her- but you'll both end up far worse if people knew.

The people in your school would ravage you for details on your personal life. Your privacy would be invaded by snotty teenagers- ultimately turning your life upside down. They'd ruin you for being a nobody if you're not good enough, if you don't match their standards. It doesn't help that their standards are themselves either. It's just one of the many perks of dating Minji.

Maybe you could swap partners…?

"Hey! That's not fair! You know we don't get along well together!" You look to your left, only to find the boy you sit next to on his feet as he thrashes his arms about.

"Mister Song, please remain as you were." The teacher attempts to calm the boy, speaking in her usual dismissive tone.

"I demand a partner swap! Uh- with this girl right here!" You yelp as he grabs your elbow, dragging you to your feet.

"Mister Song, leave the girl alone and report to the head teachers office immediately," Miss huffs out, clapping her hands aggressively out of annoyance.

The boy lets go of you, to which you quickly take your seat again, scooting slightly away as heat creeps to your face and your hands begin to subtly shake. "Whatever"

You breathe in deeply, taking in mouthfuls of air at a time to steady yourself as your brain scrambles to put itself back together. You find yourself counting each breath, starting from one and working your way up to ten within a short matter of time.

It didn't take too long- only until the teacher was done reading out the list- for you to have regained a decent enough composure to not be noticed by others. You had initially calmed down, but your nerves were still very much active, and it made you all that much more aware of your surroundings.

"Find your partners and don't forget to pick up a sheet." You look up as your teacher places a thin stack of paper at the front. Was that seriously your project? It was printed out onto a sheet of paper! You're not quite sure if she's just too lazy to inform the class verbally or if this was some ingenious idea to stop you from letting her words go in one ear and out the other- like they normally do.

You halt in your seat for a moment, your hand grasping a strap of your bag as you wait for everyone else to have gotten their own resources before you move. You had watched how several people passed the Isle two seats down from you, rushing about in a sloppy mess, and now it was your turn to go before everyone was sat back down.

Standing up, your chair's legs scrape against the wooden flooring, an unwelcoming sound to bask in. You're quick to tuck your chair back into the table, also tucking the chair of the boy that grabbed you earlier to get past as he left it in obstruction to your path.

Carefully squishing yourself between the fewer students at the front, you grab a sheet and make your way over to Haerin. You notice how her brown hair tangles itself slightly, how the ends of her hair nestles into the small creases of her hoodie. You also notice how her hands are fiddling with each other, her thumb gracing over her knuckles before rubbing small circles into her palm.

Everyone in the school knows of her, but no one actually knows her. No one has ever questioned her introverted state, neither have they ever really cared enough to find out. It's their loss, you suppose.

You gently clear your throat to get her attention, only now noticing how dry your airway has gotten. You wait as she slowly turns to you, only blinking at your existence beside her.

"W-we're partners for the English project… can… can I sit here?" You felt yourself vomit whatever confidence you had left to get those words out, especially as she keeps staring at you with a blank expression.

"Go ahead," she almost mumbles, keeping her eyes trained on you as you nervously take your seat beside her- almost sweating at the intensity of her stare. You swear she could read your mind.

"Thanks" you offer her a small smile in an attempt to smooth the rough granite between you two, but you don't get one back, causing your face to falter a bit.

Haerin hums, moving her target of focus to the sheet you brung over, her eyes quickly scanning the words as she nods along to a silent beat. "You'd think she'd at least send this via email or something," she grumbles, dragging the sheet closer to her for a better look.

"That way, the instructions wouldn't get so easily corrupted," you add, noting how paper is insufficient against most elements. No one likes a soaked piece of paper, but even so, at least that would be better than having it get burnt into basically nothing.

"My point exactly." Haerin glances back to you, her dark eyes pricking at your skin,"if we lose this paper, we lose our project"

You hold back a smile at her words, more so the particular word,"our." This was already a far better start than your previous project you had done last term.

“Would you want me to type it out and send it to you later?”

“I was kind of hoping we could do that now. I know it's not really a wise thing to do because of the deadline being next month…” Haerin pauses to look over the sheet again, her finger tracing from the set deadline to the paragraphs that explain the task, until the said appendage reaches the very base of the page. “But it would save us a lot of time in case something does happen”

Nodding in agreement, you lean to unzip your bag,”Do you have a laptop?” You ask, pulling your own device out and setting it on the desk.

“Yeah, I do. Can you make a document and share it with me? I’ll write down my email for you” She questions, pulling out a pen and pulling the lid off.

“For sure,” you agree.

The classroom was already back to its usual state of madness and pure insanity. It was almost as if they had reverted to their old, primitive ways with the caveman-like sounds they were producing. It was almost impossible to miss the paper balls being thrown across the room as a strange form of note passing.

“Do people not understand the meaning behind focus?” Haerin murmurs under a light breath, her hand almost straining as she logs back onto her laptop.

“Their brains are too underdeveloped to even understand the context of silence. What makes you think they can focus on anything other than not focusing?” You reply, looking at the brown haired girl with a small smile and a nervous heart. You could still feel the rampant of your heartbeat in your ears.Talking to new people was certainly not your speciality.

She sighs,”you’re not entirely wrong. Some can focus on other things like the females and their makeup and skin care routines… I can’t say much for the boys”

“Yeah… Hey, I sent you the document” You inform, having used the email she neatly wrote down on the paper your teacher had you grab on the way over.

“Thanks. If you can type out this-” she points to the bottom half of the paper, which is arguably shorter than the opposing top half “-then i'll do the rest”

“You sure? You have way more to type out” You look away from the sheet to find her looking at you with a questioning look “I’m just saying- it is a shared project afterall”

“I'm sure. I could probably be done before you anyway”

“That sounds like a challenge…”

Haerin tilts her head, her eyes reflecting the sparkle of the overhung lights,"Take it how you will”

Not even moments later, you were half done with your smaller section, though the distraction of students behind you was making your job a sufferable task. They were too loud. However, that wasn't the only present distraction. You hadn’t come to notice it, but the rapid clicking of Haerin’s manicured fingers had you half in a daze. It was clear she was completely focused on her task, possibly speeding ahead as you pause for a moment to look over at the sheet for a catch-up before resuming with your typing. It’s only been a few minutes anyway, it's not like-

“I’m done” Your hands freeze as you turn to evaluate her screen, and sure enough, every word, every letter, every piece of punctuation was present on the screen. How? What she wrote was near enough a thousand words- or so you were assuming. “How about you? Are you almost done too?”

“Uh… yeah, almost. I’m just on the final paragraph” You look away as the tips at either side of her mouth curl up in a soft smile. You take a second to take a deep breath, eyes readjusting to the word you left off on.

“Oh- Y/n?” You nod, keeping your eyes strictly trained on your keyboard “Would you mind coming to the coffee shop with me later? I’d like to start as soon as possible if that's okay with you and your schedule?”

“Sure” you breathe out, trying to release any nerves.

“Is after school okay? I’ll meet you outside your classroom last period”

“That's fine, I have biology last. It's the last room at the far end of the corridor ”

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

: Dating in a high school full of love thirsty teenagers was never really something you wanted. But of course, things change- and you learnt that in more ways than one. Kim Minji, one of the more popular students. Hong y/n, probably the most invisible person alive. They couldn't possibly be dating… or maybe they could be? You never know what goes on behind closed doors.

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: [𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍]

@jeindall777 @zuhasfavwife @thefckghost @everydayiloveyves @nasyu-kookies @justdelulumeh @feb14-kid

@ehcyps @imjeyjjey @winteresss @haechansbbg @urwyf3

@idkwhatim-doinghere101 @imahallucination11 @sserajeans @lesleepyyy @jennasluma @kaypanaq

@petruchiosstuff @pandafuriosa60 @haexrin07

#minji #kim minji #minji x reader #newjeans #newjeans minji #newjeans kim minji #minji smau #newjeans x reader #kim minji x reader #kim minji smau #newjeans smau #kazuha #chaewon #eunchae #le sserafim

[querenciasturniolo]

home ⮕ n.s.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: swearing, she/her pronouns

summary: you’ve been missing your best friend, so you, matt and chris come up with an idea to surprise him

a/n: this is super corny, and poorly written, but i wanted to write something for nick, so sue me

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

requested: no

“I genuinely don’t understand why you won’t just move to LA.”

You laughed and shook your head as you turned on your turn signal, Nick’s voice coming through the speaker. It had been three months since you’d last seen him, and you missed him like crazy. There wasn’t a day that went by when the triplets were in Boston full time that you didn’t see him. Them living in LA half the time sucked, to say the least. Nick was always subtle about telling you he missed you, but you knew he missed you as much as you missed him.

“Because I have a job, you dork. I can’t just drop everything and move to the other side of the country.” You teased, Nick grumbling a backhanded comment that you couldn’t quite understand over the phone. You scoffed as you pulled into your driveway and turned your car off. “When are you guys coming back to Boston?” You asked, disconnecting your phone from your car and stepping out as you pressed your phone to your ear.

“Not soon enough. We have a shit ton of meetings coming up, so it’ll be awhile before we can even think about traveling. How’s work been going for you?”

The rest of your conversation consisted of a million different things, each topic making you think about dropping everything and going to LA, even though you knew Nick was joking. Not seeing him everyday like you used to was the worst, and when you got off of the phone with him, you had an idea. You opened your messages and created a group chat with Matt and Chris.

how much do i have to beg you two to help me surprise nick ?

It felt like it took ages for either of them to respond, but Matt finally replied.

Surprise him how?

You explained your plan to them, telling them how you wanted to book a flight to LA and surprise Nick, especially since you hadn’t seen the three of them in so long. Chris sent a couple thumbs up emojis, while Matt replied and said to let him know when your flight got in so they could pick you up from the airport.

The days leading up to your flight, you kept in constant contact with Matt and Chris, making sure that you were all on the same page, and making sure Nick had no idea what you were planning.

Your flight was long and tiring, you couldn’t stop yourself from getting antsy. You were so excited to finally see all of them, but especially Nick.

Matt and Chris told you that Nick had plans with Madi for most of the day, and wouldn’t be home until later, so your afternoon landing would give you enough time to set up what you had planned. The moment your plane landed, you rushed to get your bag and get to where Matt and Chris were, facetiming Chris immediately.

“Hey, where are you guys?” You asked, Chris flipping the camera to show you what exit gate they were parked at.

“I can’t fucking pronounce that, but that’s where we are.” He said, an amused scoff leaving your lips as you walked out of the gate and looked around, finally spotting the minivan and running over. Chris and Matt got out of the car and practically yanked your bag and carry-on out of your hands to throw into the trunk. The moment they were done, they wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug, all of the air leaving your lungs.

“I’m glad that you guys missed me too, but I can’t breathe.” You said, dramatically straining your voice as they let go.

“We just love you, dude. Accept it already.” Chris said, you rolled your eyes and opened the back door.

“We need content for our Wednesday video, do you mind?” Matt asked, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You said, Matt nodding to himself as Chris immediately pulled the vlog camera from his bag and turned it on. It took him a few minutes to get the camera to focus, swearing under his breath as he finally lifted the camera to be facing all three of you. You were always surprised at how comfortable they were behind the camera, while you constantly felt awkward any time you were involved in one of their vlogs.

“So, as some of you guys know, Y/n has been one of our best friends for a while. We haven’t seen her in forever, and we all decided that we’d surprise Nick while he’s out with Madi for the day.” Chris said, Matt immediately pulled out of the parking spot and headed towards the exit.

You waved at the camera and gestured behind you to the trunk. “I brought some decorations and gifts for him as well, and Matt and Chris are gonna help me decorate his room.”

Chris flipped the camera on Matt. “Do you have anything to say?” Matt glanced over before looking back at the road.

“Well, Nick has always said that he doesn’t get overly excited about things, but I feel like when he realizes Y/n is in LA for the week, we’ll see if that’s true or not.” He said, you and Chris laughing as he shut the camera off and put it away.

The drive back to their house was filled with the three of you catching up about what’s been going on the last few months in LA and Boston, and when you got back to their house, the three of you rushed up the stairs with your bags and the camera. It took less than an hour to hang the streamers and put the gifts in the bag, the three of you laughing and fucking around the entire time, talking to each other and the camera.

“Nick says he’s about to be home.” Matt said, replying to Nick’s text as you jumped from the desk chair.

“Fuck, where do I go, what do I do?” You said, your heart racing as Chris laughed and shook his head.

“Just stand in the bathroom, we’ll set up the camera. He’ll be confused as hell to see us in his room with a bunch of decorations, and then you can walk out.” He said, you nodding your head as Matt put the camera across from Nick’s door and hit record. You waited until you heard the door open from downstairs and Nick shouted that he was home before you rushed to the bathroom, Chris and Matt making themselves look casual as you waited impatiently.

Time seemed to slow down as Nick ascended the stairs, each step taken making you grow more and more antsy. The door to his bedroom opened and his footsteps paused.

“What the fuck.” He said, a grin growing on your face. You could see Matt looking up from his phone, not looking casual at all. His eyes flickered to you for a split second before meeting Nick’s eyes again. He’s always been awful at being subtle, but it was one of his charming attributes.

“Do you not like your surprise?” Matt asked. You heard Nick scoff and drop something on his desk before walking further into the room.

“This is ridiculous. You guys are acting like I was overseas; I was just hanging out with Madi for a few hours.” He said, his voice monotone as you finally stepped out of the doorway and leaned against the wall, waiting for him to turn and notice you.

“Look around, Nick, I’m sure you’ll find something.” Chris said, Nick frowned and turned his head, his eyes finally meeting yours. He paused for a moment, his reaction time slowed before his face lit up and he rushed towards you. You laughed the moment he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, your legs kicking out behind you as you hugged him back.

“Holy shit! What are you doing here?! When did you get here?! When did you plan this?! What are you fucking doing here?!” He rambled, your laugh uncontrollable as he finally put you down and just stared at you, completely bewildered and shocked. You saw Chris out of the corner of your eye grabbing the camera and zooming in on the two of you.

“I missed you, you dork. A week ago I booked the flight, requested work off, and Matt and Chris helped me decorate your room and set up the surprise.” You said, Nick’s jaw hitting the floor. He looked over, seeing Chris holding up the camera.

“Oh, you motherfucker.” Nick said, a laugh leaving his lips as he shook his head and looked back at you. “You’re helping me edit this video since you exposed me.” He said. You scoffed and shrugged your shoulders.

You didn’t mind being put to work, even if it just meant you laying on Nick’s bed and talking to him while he edited. He was like your home in a person, you’d never thought you’d meet someone you felt completely comfortable with no matter how strange you acted at times. Neither of you had ever been overly affectionate, physically or emotionally, but you couldn’t stop yourself from telling him what was on your mind.

“This is so fucking weird to say, but I’m so glad I met you.” You said, Chris and Matt aweing behind the camera.

Nick snorted and shook his head. “That’s not weird at all, I’m fucking awesome.” He said, the tone of his voice joking. “I’m glad I met you, too, you loser.” He said. You awed dramatically, pulling him into a ridiculous hug.

“I knew you loved me, you big lug!” You teased, Nick groaning and trying to shove you off of him, Matt and Chris cackling behind the camera.

You knew you’d have to head back to Boston at the end of the week, but for now, you were glad you were home.

#nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

[irisintheafterglow]

End Game #2 (volleyball captain!gojo x you)

summary: you sneak out to play volleyball.

word count: 1.5k

cw/tags: mild language, jjk volleyball au, misunderstandings, a little angst but nothing too bad, commitment issues lol, subtle pining !!!!

note: ok part 2 because this au has given me motivation again. also i don't know if i should make the rest of the team the second-gen jjk sorcerers (yuuji, megumi, nobara, inumaki, etc) so if you have any thoughts on that lmk. i'm thinking yes make them part of the team but that'd negate their age gap so as long as that's fine i think it'll work. anyways hope you enjoy!!

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated <3

A knocking on your window jolts you from your daze as you stare blankly at the unfinished document in front of you. It was only supposed to take two hours, you told yourself, but those two hours had doubled as you kept rewriting and re-wording every sentence you typed. Squeezing your eyes shut, you rest your face in your hands and pray for the teacher to postpone the due date. 

More insistent knocking draws your attention again, despite willfully ignoring it the first time. You lean back in your chair and groan, waiting for him to become impatient and start his Shakespearean monologuing. 

“Are you going to make me sit out here in the cold? In the dead of night? How cruel is this earthly plane–” You slide the window open, meeting Satoru’s eyes with a tired stare, and his voice catches in his throat. “Wow," he manages. “You look like shit.” You blink once, twice, a hand leaning on the window frame and the other on your hip. 

“What are you doing here, Satoru?” 

The mouth turns into a sly grin. “I need a partner.”

It’s late, and you’re unfazed. “I have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not what I mean, wait…what?” You laugh at the genuine confusion that paints his face, turning back into your room to grab your shoes. He slides through the window easily like he’d done a million times before, landing softly on the carpet and leaning back against the ledge. Poorly masked concern leaks into his voice and you smirk. “Since when were you seeing someone?” 

“Since never, Satoru. I already have my hands full dealing with you and your team; a relationship would essentially be another item on my schedule.” You slip on mismatched socks and some worn-out sneakers, shutting your laptop with a scowl. The essay would have to wait until you were done taking out your frustration on a volleyball. He watches you intently, blue eyes glowing in the moonlight. You’d known Satoru for years, but you always found that it was most challenging to read his emotions at night. It was like certain emotions were nocturnal. By day, Satoru was the goofiest person you knew; by night, you sometimes caught him staring at you in ways you knew he didn’t look at anyone else. You pushed whatever motives he may have into the back of your mind, dismissing his nightly flirtations the same way you ignored the daytime ones. 

You stand in front of him expectantly with your hands on your hips, and he peers up at you, eyes twinkling like the stars. “Shall we?” His fake chivalry makes the corner of your mouth turn up. 

“We need a ball first, Satoru.” You maneuver through your window after him, allowing him to briefly place his hands on your hips as you jump down from the ledge. His hands linger on your body for a moment before his senses come back. 

“I left it in your yard.” 

Your mouth drops in disbelief. “In the flowerbed?” You’re both whisper-yelling in front of your house, and you hope none of the neighbors decided to take a late-night stroll. 

He puts his hands up in surrender, shrugging as you turn on your phone flashlight to find the ball. “There was nowhere else to put it!” 

“I swear if you crushed those pink asters that I’ve been–”

“That you’ve been tending for years, I know.” You shoot him a glare over your shoulder as you bend over, fishing out the ball among the dark foliage. “You should grow red asters.” 

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Satoru,” you quip, tossing him the ball and running a hand over the petals to ensure they weren’t damaged too badly.  

He takes your spunk in stride, falling into step next to you. “I think they’re pretty. D’you know they’re supposed to symbolize devotion?” 

Your body runs on autopilot, crossing neighborhood sidewalks with Satoru at your side as you head toward the small park a few blocks from your house. He spins the ball on a slender finger absentmindedly as you walk. He continues his attempts to convince you to plant red asters the entire way to the park, even after you’ve taken your regular position across from him near the playground. “I’ll think about it, okay? Will you stop telling me how to garden now?”

“I wasn’t telling you to do anything; I was just suggesting it.” He throws you the ball, underhanded, and your arms move together mechanically to bump it back to him. 

“Yeah, just like you were suggesting that I call you captain earlier today.” Nimble fingers set it gracefully back to you, and you almost miss spiking the ball watching it arch in the air. 

He receives it easily, bumping it back. “I still don’t understand why you refuse.”

“Because I’m not one of your players, Satoru. I’m outside of the game. I make sure you all have water bottles and stuff.” Set. 

“You’re still just as much part of the team as anyone else is.” Spike. 

“Agree to disagree, then.” Bump. 

There was a separate reason as to why you didn’t want to call him captain, one that you would take to your grave. It was a line, you considered it, just like acknowledging his flirting. If you crossed that line, you were truly integrated into the team, truly connected to Satoru. You were the team’s manager, still separate from the rest of the players. As nice as it was to have somewhere to go after school besides your house, it was just as nice having a foot in the door just in case things suddenly went south. It was how you were, and you weren’t in the mood to verbalize your commitment issues with the one guy who’d probably tease you the most about it. 

Satoru’s face is unreadable again as he sets the ball, but you could see the gears turning in his head. “Are we still having that practice match with Kyoto next week?” 

Of all the things he would ask you, you didn’t think it would be practice-related. “As far as I’m aware, yeah. They offered to buy dinner if we won, by the way.” Spike. 

“Does that mean we have to pay for their food if we lose?” Bump. 

“Probably.” Set. 

“Then, no. Definitely not.” Spike. 

“Why?” You stick your tongue out teasingly. “Got plans?” Bump. 

“No, not yet at least.” Set. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Spike. 

Bump. He shrugs nonchalantly, running a hand through his moonlit hair that you knew he only did when he was nervous. “Was thinking about asking someone out after the match.”

Set. “Oh.” The surprise moves past your lips before you can stop it, and you kick yourself mentally for feeling a bit of disappointment at his plans. You tended to get dinner with Satoru after practice matches, always some shitty fast food place where he talked about how much the other team sucked as he wolfed down three burgers. Sometimes Suguru or Shoko or Nanami would join you, but the one constant after hosting rival teams was dinner with Satoru. His intentions bothered you deep in your chest, but you couldn’t figure out why. 

Spike. “Yeah.” A layer of awkwardness settles between you two that you’d never felt before. It wasn’t that you were distressed that he was gonna ask someone on a date; your body just felt physically unable to create words. 

Bump. “Well, have fun with that then.” You fight to keep your voice even, eyes on the ball to look away from Satoru’s piercing stare. He was trying to read you, and you weren’t going to let him. 

Set. “Aren’t you going to ask me who they are?”

Spike, a hard spike. The ball speeds toward Satoru faster than he expects it, forcing him to catch it instead of sending it back toward you. “No, Satoru. Unlike the rest of the country’s population, I really couldn’t give two shits about who you decide is worthy of your attention.” The words fall from your mouth with more venom than you intend, and you bite down on your bottom lip guiltily. “I’m sorry. It’s late.” 

He watches you again, mysterious eyes analyzing your thoughts like a science experiment. “Yeah, it’s alright. It’s my fault, anyway, making you come out this time of night.” He smiles one of those make-everything-better smiles, and you feel a little lighter that he wasn’t too angry. “I’ll take you home.” 

Several minutes that felt like hours later, you’re back in your room as Satoru sits on the windowsill again, about to leave. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’m gonna ask them to dinner.” 

“Really? Why not?”

With his back to you, you had no idea what his expression was. You didn’t know if he was angry with you, but something in his voice told you he was hiding something. 

“Just doesn’t seem like the right time.” Before you could formulate a response, the old Satoru is back in a snap, tilting his head toward you playfully. “But, hey. You never know. Maybe someday I’ll get the balls to ask them,” he murmurs before he disappears, leaping down from your window into the night. 

You can’t tell if you’re relieved or disappointed that he wasn’t going to ask out that mystery person.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen #suguru geto #satoru gojo #jjk volleyball au

[kissingghouls]

The King

Part One: The Crush (ao3) vampireSecondo x fem Reader // Papa Emeritus II x fem Reader

Summary: You thought accounting would lead to a boring life. Then you started working for Mr. Emeritus.

tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, horror themes, vampire violence, (eventual) smut, blood, more tags on ao3, 7k words

Part Two in the Suck Club Series. Read Part One - The Count here

Part One: The Crush

When you live somewhere long enough, you become blind to the little quirks of a place. Eventually, you start to ignore the bad news to maintain your own sanity. It wasn’t like the city was overrun with crime or anything, but the missing posters were an uncomfortable constant decoration on utility poles and shop windows. You kept pepper spray on your keychain and looked over your shoulder in the dark just like anyone else would, but you never truly felt unsafe.

And if you did, Idolatry was a fortress you could run to.

It wasn’t exactly the kind of place in which you imagined yourself working. All that black glass and neon light with the constant thrum of loud music and even louder patrons absolutely losing their minds over topless women wasn’t really your scene. But you had bills to pay just like everyone else. When Mr. Emeritus’s assistant, Mary Goore, fired off that email asking about your financial services, you were all too happy to give them a quote. When you saw the salary Mr. Emeritus offered you in return, you had to sit down.

Once you saw the state of things, you understood the numbers. The last accountant had mysteriously disappeared, but unlike the others in the city, he had done so after skimming millions of dollars from the club. He made sure to trash years’ worth of records while trying poorly to cover his tracks, leaving the accounts in a pitiful state for you to clean up. You hoped wherever he was, he was getting sand in his margaritas.

Still, Idolatry was turning a substantial profit and it wasn’t hard to see why.  An exclusive, members only Gentlemen’s Club with dues as high as they were had to deliver on everything. And Mr. Emeritus spared no expense when it came to the expectations of his guests. He didn’t hold back when it came to his employees either—you’d seen the payroll.

Mr. Emeritus also didn’t seem to deny himself, dressing exclusively in suits that were tailored to his tall frame with coordinating shoes and expensive watches. He was big, not only physically, but his presence commanded attention every time he entered a room. It was alarming at first, how this well-dressed man could take the air out a space without even trying. You had credited it to the black and white face paint he always wore, the skull shaped mask that failed to disguise his expressions. The harsh lines of it made him appear stoic and serious, no matter the situation, but the longer you were employed the less noticeable the paint became. It was a part of him he put on, like those plush green velvet blazers he loved, but it wasn’t the only thing he was. You suspected without the mask people would still stop and notice him.

And you, you couldn’t help but notice him. He wasn’t the type of man who usually caught your eye—that honor was mainly reserved for scrawny dudes in bands who needed someone to take care of them and pay their rent. A miserable list of complete losers who drained your patience and, thanks to the last asshole, your bank accounts. Mr. Emeritus didn’t need to be reminded to shower and he’d never steal your car to cheat on you with some girl in Florida.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t have his own quirks and faults. There were times you’d seen him in the middle of some impossible feat, like moving full kegs on his own, acts that when caught prompted Mary to nudge him and point out that you were there. Secondo never seemed to pay much attention to the warnings, carrying on with whatever he was doing. It was clear he was strong, probably stronger than you thought, but he also had an odd way of addressing things. When word got around you had just been through a particularly nasty break up, he stopped by your office and casually offered to kill your ex. You laughed nervously at the joke, but he’d delivered it so flatly you almost thought he wasn’t kidding.

Your boss was a little strange, sure, but so was everyone else in the city. If the man wanted to paint a skull on his face every day, who were you to judge? That certainly wasn’t what he was paying you for. You started to like the intimidating air surrounding him and how his gaze often matched his nature, as though he was never solving only one problem at a time. You quickly learned his wit was as sharp as his suits, but he tended to remain soft-spoken while the two of you slowly got to know each other.

Over time you learned he didn’t like to show it, but he cared deeply for the people who worked for him. He’d affectionately named the dancers “the Dolls” and made sure they wanted for nothing while they worked for him. In return, they all called him Bone Daddy, partially in reference to his odd makeup, but mostly because of his constant need to make sure they were all ok. As far as you could tell he wasn’t actually a Daddy to any of them in a sexual or relationship sense. He always arrived and left alone, never spending much time with anyone, not even Mary. None of the Dolls had ever seen his home.

You found it easy to settle in when you started, making fast friends with the Dolls and the bartenders. You mostly saw them in passing, everyone arriving for their shifts by the time you left until you began to realize it was almost impossible to reach Mr. Emeritus during the day. It made sense for him to keep the same odd hours as everyone else, but the state of his finances left you with questions only he could answer. Eventually, you found it easier to shift your own hours to match everyone else in the hopes that you could finally catch him and get the information you needed.

That led to those tiny little moments where you began to hope you’d see him.

A lifetime (or more accurately several lifetimes) living amongst humans, blending seamlessly into their limited little world had made Secondo blind to their odd intricacies. Still, he largely found the people around him endearing and he much preferred this life to the endless solitude his brothers had chosen. Though he guessed Copia had someone now at least. And maybe the Countess could drag his old, dramatic cape-wearing ass into the 21st century.

Secondo had grown used to being surrounded by beautiful, half-naked women. It was a necessary part of the job, to the point he no longer noticed if one of the Dolls was topless while talking to him. It was out of respect, more than anything. The Dolls were people, good people with big hearts and families of their own. Just like with his own brothers, he felt a need to protect the girls from the nasty things in the world, even if it meant he had to become one.

So, when you breezed in wearing jeans and a t-shirt for the first time, his mind went completely blank. It was such a stark contrast to the stuffy 9-to-5 business causal uniform you’d worn in the past. But now you were comfortable enough to dress a little more like yourself, to relax a little. You were still all business of course, asking him something he’d completely missed while you waited for an answer with your hands on your hips.

“Sorry?” he asked, blinking up at you from his desk in a daze.

“The 1099s? Where are your 1099s?” you asked with a nervous smile.

“Oh.” He gestured vaguely to the banged-up filing cabinet in the corner of the office.

You huffed at him, shooting an annoyed glance over your shoulder as you turned away. He pretended not to see the soft smile that graced your face when you thought he wasn’t looking. He couldn’t help but wonder what you looked like when you woke up next to a lover, messy hair and half-smiles hidden behind a pillow or pressed into a bare shoulder. Maybe someday his shoulder. But that would be ridiculous because a delicate little thing like you would be ruined if you got too close to someone him.

It didn’t stop him from noticing things about you, slowly at first as you settled into your role at the club. It wasn’t that you were a messy person. You kept your office in an order that made sense to you, but your desk was often cluttered at the edges with to-go coffees or cheap food that came in plastic wrappers. At first, he thought maybe you were just too busy to get yourself groceries, skating by on whatever until you had the time. It wasn’t the kind of thing he had to concern himself with much; he could eat like a human if he wanted to, but for years now he preferred the simplicity of the kill instead. It never struck him as odd, just increasingly interesting to see what you might do next.

It’s these things he picked up on, elements that made you more of a mystery to him than anyone had ever been. He couldn’t help but watch you, fascinated by any tiny thing you did.

The first time he saw you blush, he felt something he’d been chasing ever since. He hadn’t even meant to, but you were standing outside your office looking up at him, some unanswered question hanging between the two of you. But there, just on the corner of your mouth was the tiniest bit of jam left behind from one of those awful convenience store donuts. You turned seven shades of pink as his thumb gently swiped over your face. He worried he had embarrassed you, but it was the act itself that left you too warm all over.

You weren’t even sure when the crush on your boss started, but you knew it got a million times worse after he wiped that jam from your face. He was tall and handsome, but most of all he was kind to you. Really, you never stood a fucking chance against that combination. But after that day he seemed to pay just a little more attention to you or at least you were more aware of whatever attention he gave you. He liked to tease you, throwing out the occasional odd comment or quip about your habits or coffee intake. It was lighthearted in a way you never expected him to be, not with that emotionless mask he painted on every day.

He would drop into your office from time to time, never saying more than a few words at first. But it began to happen often enough that you were putting more thought into your wardrobe. Nothing too drastic, you weren’t trying to get him to look at you, you just wanted to present a somewhat professional version of yourself who wasn’t intimidated by him or the girls downstairs. The version of you who didn’t have fucking crumbs on her face. It was bullshit of course. All he had to do was lean against your desk with his sleeves rolled up over his forearms and you’d forget every number you’d ever learned.

You wanted to write a love letter to whoever produced his favorite cologne, that slightly sweet yet smoky scent that stayed in your office long after he left. Your last boss smelled like mustard, but Mr. Emeritus smelled expensive and always in the right amount, as though he’d spent a lifetime perfecting his routine. You wondered how long it took him to get dressed every day, how much effort it took to make sure the waistcoat went with the shoes and the watch added to the outfit without distracting. Maybe it was effortless for him, the way some things just seemed to come easily to certain people.

You didn’t assume things were actually easy for him. You saw the hours he put in at the club. You saw the investment he’d made in his business. He knew everything that was going on at any given time. It seemed he was the same way with every facet of his life, picking up on the little details of the world and people around him. He made this wildly obvious the day he stopped by your office with a bag from some fancy bakery and set it in front of you.

“What’s that?” you asked, confused.

“It’s a raspberry chocolate croissant,” he stated flatly.

“Oh, uh, I’m fine. I have a bagel around here somewhere.”

“Now you don’t have to eat that stale bagel from yesterday,” he pointed out and tapped the bag. “They’re good. Trust me.”

“How—thank you.”

He shrugged. “You should have something better than old bread.”

“Like… fresh bread?”

He snorted and quickly covered his mouth, his eyes wide.

“Did you…did you just laugh?”

He shook his head. “That was so bad, tesorino.”

It started well before your stupid joke, but that day he learned just how easy it was to make your face flare pink. A couple of innocent yet slightly suggestive words and you’d be hiding your face behind your hands, complaining with an adorable little groan. But you’d bite back with a comment of your own, never letting him fully get away with it. And he liked that about you. He liked that you weren’t afraid of him like so many others were, even when you probably should have been. Even the Dolls had taken to their silly nickname to make him seem less intimidating, but he knew there was still that underlying fear, that completely human response to being near someone like him.

Apparently, it didn’t bother you at all. The fact was made so clear when you showed up at the annual Idolatry Halloween party with your face painted to match his. It was embarrassing that he didn’t know where to look, but you were barely wearing more than a blazer that was just long enough. But it was so much worse when you walked over to happily show off your costume.

“Look! I’m you!” you yelled over the music, doing a little spin as you presented yourself under the neon green glow of the club.

“Very funny,” he replied, trying to keep his voice as level as possible.

You didn’t seem to notice as you sucked your drink into your straw and grinned at him. “What are you? Some kind of Dracula?”

He never should have taken Copia’s advice on a fucking costume. He looked down at his own ridiculous outfit, some silly Victorian era get-up his brother had talked him into buying years ago. At the time it seemed like it would make a hilarious costume, but maybe a vampire was a little too on the nose.

“Something like that, yeah,” he said and adjusted the frilly cuff of his sleeve.

“Sweet cape,” you added with a smug grin, reaching up to adjust the way it fell over his shoulders.

“Nice dress.”

You smiled up at him. “Thanks! The Dolls helped me.”

“So, this was their idea?”

“No,” you laughed and shook your head. “This seemed like the best way to try to get you to blush. Well, this or showing up naked but let’s be honest, you see naked women all the time.”

He blinked hard at you, that horrible sensation of his face growing warm washing over him. “Y-you—”

“Hey, look at that! It worked,” you cheered and ran off, joining a group of Dolls seated at a nearby table.

Secondo stood there speechless, watching as you shared the tale of your victory with the others. He pretended not to see their heads turn toward him. Pretended he couldn’t see the Dolls whispering behind their hands or flagging Mary down to include them in whatever was happening. He was way too old for this and far too sober.

He crossed the room, stopping momentarily at the bar to request an old fashioned to nurse as the DJ slipped into some bass heavy song. It appeared to please the Dolls and the patrons, several of them climbing to their feet and crowding the makeshift dance floor in front of the main stage. The drink was bitter on his tongue, but the bourbon warmed him despite the ice. He might be dressed like an asshole, but he knew how to throw a good party. Or at least throw one arguably better than Copia and his nuns. He tensed slightly, the glass cracking under the pressure of his grip. He’d let himself get too wrapped up, too distracted by Copia’s nonsense and you, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. What a ridiculous idea it was to even think of you at all. You weren’t afraid of him, but you should have been. It would have been so much easier if you were. He never should have let you get as close as you did.

He looked around the club, noting any unfamiliar faces. It was dangerous for him to get distracted, especially now. Primo still hadn’t said anything about the abbey, but he knew his brother’s recklessness would cause problems for all of them. It was just a matter of when.

It didn’t ease his anxiety to find that Mary was still floating around, whispering with the Dolls instead of checking in with security. That paranoia set in, scratching away at the reasonable parts of himself until only the predator remained. He moved through the club, concentrating hard on appearing calm as he caught Mary by the elbow.

“What’s going on, Mary? Is there something I should know about?” Secondo asked, keeping his voice as low as possible under the music.

Mary raised an eyebrow. “I think you already do, Boss.”

“I don’t have time for games today.”

“The accountant,” Mary said knowingly and downed the rest of their drink.

“What?”

 “Ok, maybe you don’t know,” they managed through a dry laugh. “You and the accountant.”

He didn’t mean to. He really, really didn’t mean to, but he scanned the crowd at the mere mention of you, trying to find you in the sea of people moving about. You were easy enough to spot, relaxing against the bar with some ridiculous cocktail and your face made up like his. A smile threatened to tug at the corner of his mouth, quickly replaced by his usual scowl as some idiot dressed like a doctor approached you.

“Uh oh,” Mary sang, staring off in your direction.

“Leave it alone, Mary,” he warned.

“Look Boss, if you ask me—”

“I didn’t,” he snapped.

“Ok then, unsolicited advice: talk to her. If that’s going well, maybe try giving her a gift. Girls like that shit.”

“I’m beginning to understand how you’re still single.”

“Oh yeah, because that couldn’t have anything to do with being blood-bound to a fucking vampire.”

Secondo shot Mary a stern look.

“Relax, old man. No one can hear us. And for the record? My sex life is way more active than yours.”

“How would you even know?”

“I make all your appointments, Boss. Outside of your brothers, you’ve got a pretty small social circle. So maybe you should go talk to her. But if I gotta stand here and keep doing this with you, I’m gonna need another drink.”

Mary kicked off the wall and crossed the room. Sliding a little too easily between you and the idiot, they expertly derailed whatever conversation the guy was trying make. Secondo was all too happy to watch the relief wash over your face, but you turned to look back at him instead. There was a ghost of a smile barely visible under your paint. He couldn’t tell what Mary had said to you, but it couldn’t have been good if you were looking at him like that.  

He didn’t stick around to find out.

It wasn’t one of his greatest ideas, but the 25 year old scotch in his office was half empty before he could think of a better one. The cape had shifted to one shoulder, draping him dramatically as he lounged on the velvet chaise. What did Mary even mean anyway? There was no him and anybody, let alone him and the accountant. Maybe he liked your jokes, maybe he liked that perfect shade of pink that washed over your face.  And he liked your hair. And your perfume. And that little groan you always made. And your stupid laugh.

But that didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything. You were this soft, delicate little thing and he was the stuff of nightmares.

He swore loudly as he dug his phone out of his pocket and hit call before he could change his mind. There was someone he could talk to, the one person who might be able to give him some kind of unbiased answer or advice. He scrubbed at his face as the line rang out, wondering if he really wanted to pay the price for this.

“Fratello!” Copia slurred loudly, the broken sounds of some party happening on the other end. “Mi scusi,” he shouted as the sound fell away.

“Hi Secondo,” the Countess sang into the phone.

Secondo swallowed hard. “Hi. Copia, can I talk to the Countess?”

“You are talking to the Countess,” he replied, followed by an uncontrollable burst of laughter.

Dread started to mix with the scotch in Secondo’s stomach.

“Amore, give me the phone,” the Countess ordered. He could hear Copia trying to argue in the background as the phone rustled between them. After a firmly shouted “no” the Countess returned. “I’m so sorry about him.”

“Is he on something?”

She giggled. “No, no. It’s just someone he ate.”

He sighed heavily. “You two were supposed to behave.”

“Ugh, if this is why you called you can go back to talking to him.”

“Wait, no. I—” Secondo swallowed every ounce of pride he’d ever had. “I think I need your help.”

“Mine? Why?” The sounds drifted further behind her as she moved away from the party. “Are you in trouble, Twos?”

He felt his teeth grind at her stupid nickname. “Everything’s fine. I just have…a human problem.”

“Oh. Kill them. Problem solved.”

“It’s not like that. Why would I need your help with that?”

“What else could it—oh. A human problem,” she repeated sadly. “Do they know about you?”

Secondo sat up and tugged the fastening to the cape apart, letting it fall from his shoulders as he stood. He began to place the length of his office, tracing his unbalanced steps repeatedly as the scotch began to wear him down. “I don’t think she does,” he admitted after a beat. “I mean, generally I try not to make it obvious.”

“She,” she confirmed with a smile in her voice. “You called because you have a crush.”

“I don’t. I just—”

“Copia, get down from there!” the Countess screamed. “I’m so sorry Secondo. I swear I’m never taking him anywhere ever again.”

“Eh, he needs to get out more. He can’t just sit in that castle for the rest of his eternal life.”

“He’s about to make it a lot fucking shorter if he falls off the roof of this frat house.”

“Dolce, look! I’m a gargoyle.”

“Yes, my love. The most handsome gargoyle there ever was. Will you please come down and help me? Twos has a problem.”

Secondo cringed at their conversation, waiting as they went back and forth with each other. He couldn’t comprehend the amount of love the Countess must have had for Copia. To be patient with him even when he was at his worst must have been some superhuman feat. It didn’t make any sense for her to baby the man who killed an entire abbey full of people because they said she couldn’t see him. But what did Secondo know? Maybe that was love.

“Fratello who hurt you?” There was an edge to his brother’s voice, something angry, protective.

“No one hurt him, amore,” the Countess said, trying to soothe him. “So, you don’t have feelings for this girl, and she doesn’t know you’re a vampire, but you still have a problem?”

“Yes?” Secondo confirmed, slightly confused.

“Hmm, is she pretty?”

“What?”

“The girl. Do you find her attractive?”

“Um, I—yeah, I guess I do?”

“And not just, like, her looks, but is she smart? Is she funny?”

“Yes.”

“Do you find yourself going out of your way to see her sometimes?”

His mouth went dry. “Yes.”

“Do you…look forward to seeing her?” she asked gently.

“Yes.”

“Well do you think if you…you know, got it out of your system so to speak—”

“I don’t follow.”

The Countess sighed. “Do you just want to fuck her?”

“No, that’s—no.”

“Secondo, it sounds like you do have a crush on this girl.”

“No, no, no. That can’t be it—”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Twos.”

“It doesn’t matter if there’s something wrong with it or not. That’s not what’s happening. And even if it was, even if there was a snowballs chance in hell, it would mean nothing, because it’s not happening. It can’t happen.” He was almost yelling now, trying to get the Countess to understand that things between the two of you simply would not work.

“Well, why not?”

“I—look, it just wouldn’t. We’re…different.”

“Uh, I was a fucking nun when I met your brother.”

“Fine. I’m different and she’s…”

“She’s what?”

“An accountant.”

He didn’t hear you come up the hallway in your search for him. He didn’t know that you were just outside his office as he admitted to the Countess exactly who you were. You could only hear one side of the conversation, but it was enough.

“I thought you ate your accountant?” the Countess asked, confused.

“No, that was the last one.”

“Oh. So, you have a new accountant who you don’t have a crush on because if you did it wouldn’t mean anything. And yet you still called me to ask about her? Please tell me you’re connecting the dots here, Twos.”

“Fuck,” he whispered harshly. “Oh, fuck.”

“So, what is it, Twos? What is it about this girl that’s got you all wound up?”

“She’s just…” he trailed off and sighed, a fond smile spreading across his face. “She’s kind of hopeless.”

“Excuse me?” you asked loudly behind him.

Secondo whipped around so fast he nearly fell over. “Countess, I’ll call you back.”

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you spat angrily.

“Wait, tesorino—” he called out, drunkenly tripping over his own feet. He had never seen you so upset, so hurt, not even when told him about the guy who broke your heart. Your words dripped with venom, but you had stayed calm, your pulse steady. Now he could hear it pounding in his ears like an entire drum corps as you stumbled away from him.

“Why? So, you can tell me more about how you really feel about me? Fuck, I came up here to make sure you were ok.” You laughed angrily. “Turns out you’re fine, you’re always fine aren’t you? God, what is it like to be so much better than the rest of us, huh?”

“I-I’m not. I am so much worse than you—”

“Wow. Fuck you.” The curse was barely a whisper, that last little bit of control you had snapping under the weight of it. Tears streamed wet trails down your face, washing away the face paint as it went and dripped black and white splotches onto your chest. It was stupid of you to entertain the idea that he could ever have feelings for you, that maybe tonight you could have told him how you felt and it would be ok. It never occurred to you that there could be someone else—a fucking Countess no less. Some beautiful woman somewhere who understood him better than you ever could and had never once gotten powdered sugar on her clothes.

“No, no, no, wait,” he begged as he chased after you. “That’s not what I meant. I—I’m just…I’m drunk, and you’re drunk, and this is—”

“I’m gonna go. You should call your girlfriend back.”

Secondo felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest. He didn’t know what else to do, couldn’t do anything except watch you leave. He heard the door to the club open, music spilling in as you slipped away. It drifted back out just as quickly, the silence only broken by the sound of his phone smashing against the wall.

You told yourself you weren’t thinking about kissing your boss before, but now you definitely weren’t thinking about it. There was no way to tell what his actual problem was last night, and you weren’t going out of your way to find out. Maybe he was in a bad mood, maybe he was just that drunk. Maybe he was the kind of guy who gets a little rude when he’s hungry—either way it wasn’t your problem. He didn’t get to make it your problem. And bad mood or not, he didn’t get to talk to you like that—about you like that.

It wasn’t the most mature thing you’d ever done, but you made sure to come to the office later than usual to avoid running into him. When you made it upstairs and found the door to his office closed, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You stopped to make sure he wasn’t waiting in your office before you closed the door behind you and settled in.

It didn’t make any sense to you when Mr. Emeritus knocked and entered without your permission anyway. He waltzed into your office and placed a large stoneware dish in the middle of your desk like it was the most natural action in the world. Like the two of you hadn’t been screaming at each other a handful of hours ago. The dish was the same deep green he always seemed to accessorize everything with, from the face on his watch to the velvet chaise in his office. It was probably just as expensive as everything else he owned, but it didn’t explain why it was on your desk.

But whatever was inside smelled amazing.

“What is this?” you asked, gesturing toward the dish in confusion when he failed to speak up.

“It’s lasagna,” he replied quietly, keeping his eyes trained on the floor.

“Do you think I’m completely incapable of taking care of myself?” You were not prepared to have this conversation with him again.                                                                                                                               

“No, it’s not—I owe you an apology.”

“Ok. But this is an entire lasagna.”

“You deserve a better apology than just one piece. Everything’s made from scratch, except the cheese. And I’m sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow and poked at the dish. “So, who made it?”

“I did,” he admitted softly.

“You,” you confirmed with an air of disbelief. “You made lasagna from scratch. Like what…like the…ok I’m going to be honest with you I don’t even know what the fuck is in lasagna. What is happening right now?”

“What you heard—what I said last night, it was out of context, but that doesn’t make it right. That’s not what I think of you. That’s not how I see you.”

Even with the paint you could tell he was tired. You wondered if he got any sleep at all or if he’d simply sacrificed it to make you an apology lasagna. “I…um…”

“It’s ok. You don’t have to forgive me or anything. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry and I respect you…a lot honestly. You’re kind of…I don’t know—”

“I’m gonna stop you there because we definitely don’t have an HR department,” you interrupted with a nervous smile. “You’re sorry. I’m sorry. It’s ok, it’s done. And I got dinner out of it.”

“It’s vegetarian,” he offered as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “Seemed like the safest bet.”

“That is really thoughtful of you.”

He nodded and let a shy smile form on his face before heading for the door. “She’s not my girlfriend, by the way,” he called over his shoulder.

“What?”

“The Countess,” he answered and leaned against the doorframe. “She’s not my girlfriend. I mean, if you really wanted to know you could have just asked me if I was single.”

His smile grew as your entire face turned pink before you hid behind your hands. “Oh my god you are actually the worst,” you groaned between your fingers. “Get out of my office.”

“Enjoy the lasagna,” he said with a little laugh and disappeared out the door.

Your boss was confusing and infuriating, but underneath it all he meant well. You still weren’t sure what kind of conversation you had overheard, maybe you’d never know. Maybe it wasn’t for you to know. But the big, intimidating man who painted a skull on his face every day had bent over backwards to try to make it up to you. A man who owed you absolutely nothing wanted things between the two of you to go back to normal. He wasted no time with his stupid jokes—they might have even gotten worse. But he smiled a little easier around you after that, a flash of sharp white teeth you found yourself hoping you’d see more often. He began to find more reasons to visit your office, sometimes saying nothing as he sat on the worn out sofa in the corner and tossed your stuffed Baphomet from one hand to the other.

You did the same in turn, spending more and more time in his office. The rumor mill turned downstairs, the Dolls creating reasons and scenarios amongst themselves that Mary refused to confirm or deny. Things only escalated after the day you were too busy compiling tax forms to remember to eat and fainted, falling right into Secondo’s arms. Two of the Dolls, Mina and Lucy, had been in his office updating their paperwork and watched the entire thing unfold. Everyone at the club had already heard by the time you woke up, though no one seemed especially surprised no matter how many times you told them nothing was going on.

It was true. There was nothing going on between you and your boss aside from a couple of lighthearted conversations and unexpected deliveries from that fancy bakery he liked. But you didn’t mind. You didn’t need more than that from him. Truth be told, it was probably better that nothing happened at all. You couldn’t handle another heartbreak anyway.

Secondo frowned at the sight of your empty office. He wasn’t even sure why he was so disappointed not to find you, but he was slowly beginning to grasp that whatever he felt about you wasn’t going away any time soon. He kept it to himself, of course, never wanting to admit to you or anyone that he could care about you. But there was a part of him that was invested completely, a part that wanted—needed to know that you were safe and happy. If he knew that much, he could handle anything else.

There were only so many places in the building you could be. It didn’t take long for him to hear your laugh ringing through the hallway outside the Dolls’ dressing room. He leaned against the doorway, watching as you leaned over and pointed at something in the massive stack of paper you’d handed to Mina.

“High heeled?” Mina asked, her head tilting as she stared at you in confusion.

“High yield,” you corrected with a light laugh.

“Oh! Yeah, that makes way more sense.” She shook her hair away from her face as she laughed, the glitter around her eyes catching the light as she moved. “I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“Enough for what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in mock disappointment.

“Hey Bone Daddy,” Mina called with a wave. She clutched the packet you gave her to her chest as she stood. “I should get back out there.”

Secondo waited until she was gone to speak again. “Are you planning on stealing my Dolls?”

“Hardly,” you shot back quickly. “I’m helping her set up a retirement fund. Did you know Mina cleared six figures last year?”

“Is that a lot?” he teased.

“You not knowing that would explain a lot about your financial records.”

“I know what Mina makes. I know what all the girls make. Even you,” he added, letting his voice drop low.

“I’m not one of your girls, Secondo,” you reminded him playfully. You knew better, but your face felt hot anyway.

“Is that judgement?”

“Of course not!”

“I’m just teasing you, tesorino. You’re wound so tight for someone who works in a place like this.”

“I am not.”

He shrugged. “I appreciate you helping the Dolls. It’s…kind of you.”

“Just doing my job.”

“No, you’re not.”

You sighed. “They’re good people. I just want to help.”

“I know. It’s quite noble of you, good quality for a person to have. Maybe you should focus that energy on yourself sometime.”

“Hey I—”

“Did you eat today? Or did you think three iced coffees was enough to sustain you?”

“What are you, my dad?”

He smiled. “Oh, you can call me daddy if you’d like.”

“I hate you so much,” you groaned as your face turned from pink to red.

“I guess I can live with that,” he said with a shrug, knowing neither one of you really meant what you said.

You rolled your eyes and slipped past him, darting through the door that led back out to the club. You could have taken the back hallway to head back up to your office; it was the faster, quieter path. But occasionally, you liked to be reminded of how successful the club was on more than paper. There was something magical about the glitz and glamor of the place, about the noise and the lights. Secondo had created something truly special with his club and you could only hope he let himself be proud of it.

You weaved through the crowd, trying to make your way to the other end when an arm locked around your waist. Some stranger was pawing at you, breathing in your ear as they requested a private dance. You shook your head, frantically trying to explain to the man that you weren’t one of the Dolls and even if you were he wasn’t allowed to touch you. Whatever argument you tried to make fell flat as the man restrained you, pulling you by your wrists toward the private rooms. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to do anything to help yourself out of this situation, but your body had gone numb.

The sickening sound of the man’s bones snapping seemed to drown out the music, followed shortly by his shouts of pain. Secondo had somehow put himself between you and the man, breaking both of the man’s hands in the process. The last thing you saw was the man brandishing something metal. It caught the light as he held it up, its sharp edge reflecting neon.

“C’mon, we gotta go,” Mary said, but they had already pulled you from the room as security poured in behind you.

“No, Mary, he has a fucking knife!”

“The Boss will be fine, trust me. I can’t say the same for you and me if we don’t get upstairs now.”

Your body gave up, your resolve snapping cleanly in half as tears fell from your eyes. You had never been so scared in your entire life. This was supposed to be your fortress, the place where these things couldn’t happen. You let out another round of sobs as Mary hoisted you over their shoulder and carried you upstairs.

You collapsed on the chaise, wrapping your arms around your knees as Mary slammed the door to Secondo’s office closed with a force you couldn’t quite comprehend. There were locks sliding into place, things you had never bothered to notice as chaos rained downstairs. Mary ran back and forth, pulling up camera feeds on any and every available screen, their bottom lip pulled nervously between their teeth.

As quickly as it started, it was over. You blinked hard through your tears as Mary pulled the locks back and Secondo burst through the door. His suit was soaked with blood.

“Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” Secondo asked as he pulled you up from the chaise and tugged at your arms, inspecting them as he went. He brought his hands to your face as he searched you for injuries. His eyes, usually so hard and still, were full of fear, softened by his concern for you.

You shook your head frantically once his words really sunk in. You weren’t hurt, but you were worried by the amount of blood around his mouth and down the front of his suit. “That man—”

“Will never touch you again,” he swore. “I can promise you that.”

“Did he hurt you?” you asked in a tiny voice. It seemed like such a stupid question, as though anyone remotely like Secondo could be hurt in a fight, but there was so much blood. The adrenaline in your body was rapidly wearing off, your limbs getting heavier as the seconds ticked by.

“No. I’m fine, tesorino.”

“But you’re bleeding.”

He quickly brought the back of his hand to his mouth, swiping at the red stain. Instead of pulling his hand away, his tongue darted out. His eyes rolled back at the taste, out of disgust or arousal you weren’t sure. Your vision was fuzzy enough at the edges, that tunnel closing in. Maybe you hadn’t seen what you thought you’d seen?

“Sec—” was all you managed before he caught you in his arms.

thank you for your time 💖 part two

#my fic #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus ii fanfic #secondo x reader #secondo fanfiction #vampire secondo x reader #vampire secondo #ghost band fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #suck club forever

[jenanigans1207]

Me, who hasn’t even gotten to s15 yet, writing a fix-it fic? More likely than you think!

—

“I made a deal with the empty,” Cas whispers to the space between him and Sam. “I offered it my life in place of Jack’s. And the empty agreed if it got to take me the moment I felt true happiness.” Cas steadies himself to say the words for a second time— the words he never even thought he’d say one time. “I knew that we were out of options and that if I summoned the empty, I would be able to take Billie with me so that Dean would make it out. So I— I told Dean that I love him.”

The sharp breath Sam takes this time is tinged with so much sadness that it’s tangible.

“Fucking hell.” Sam mutters, shaking his head and ignoring the longer pieces of his hair that fall into his eyes. “Now I’m mad at you. Fuck, no wonder Dean took it so much harder this time.”

“I never intended to tell him how I felt, Sam. But it was the only way for him to make it out alive and I— I needed him to survive. That was the only thing that mattered.” Cas doesn’t regret it, even now. He knows that he’d do it a million times over if it was still the only way to save Dean and he’d never regret it. “And I know it’s not something he wants, which is why I had assumed that he would simply try to erase any memory of that night, so he’d never have to deal with a confession such as that.”

When he looks up, Sam is pinching the bridge of his nose and staring down it at Cas. True to what he’d said a moment ago, he does look mad at Cas, but not in the same way that Dean had looked mad at Cas before he’d stormed out earlier.

“For the fact that you know Dean as well as you do, you sure don’t seem to know shit about him when it relates to you.” Sam mumbles, finally dropping his hand with a sigh. “Okay, listen. I won’t speak to Dean’s feelings— not because I don’t know them but because Dean’s already going to kick my ass for telling you all that I’ve already told you and even I know that his feelings are something he should tell you. But I will tell you this: Dean blames himself for everything bad that’s happened to you. He blames himself for you falling, for every ounce of blood that’s on your hands, and every hard time you’ve had in the last twelve goddamn years. That shit keeps him up at night, trust me.”

“Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for Dean, to some extent.” Cas replies. “But that doesn’t make it Dean’s fault. They were all my decisions.”

“I know that. And you know that. But Dean? Trust me, Cas, he’s put everything that happened to you high on the list of reasons he hates himself. And it’s a long ass list.”

“I know it is.” Cas mumbles.

“So you must understand that not only did you tell Dean you love him— something he wouldn’t have reacted poorly to, by the way— but you used it to— to die. Literally you made loving Dean the cause of your death, you realize that, right? And I know, Cas, I know you didn’t mean it like that. But to Dean and his fucked up brain, he got you killed. The one thing he’s never been able to tolerate and he is now the direct cause of it.” Sam explains and it’s so stupid, it’s so stupid—

But it’s exactly how Dean’s brain works and Cas knows that.

And that’s fine, sort of, because he still wouldn’t change the fact that he confessed to save Dean. He didn’t have time in that moment to think about how it would mess Dean up and a messed up but alive Dean was better than the alternative so that was fine. What wasn’t fine, however, was the fact that Cas never thought about it after. Now that he’s back, now that he’s had time to see how Dean reacted and how he handled Cas’s death, he still hasn’t spent any time to think about the role he played in that or the ways he could have made it worse. And that is unacceptable.

Cas sighs and deflates in the seat. He feels like his strings have been cut, like there isn’t an ounce of fight left in him. He feels like he could simply sit here, glued to this chair, for the rest of eternity.

The thing is— Cas isn’t unaccustomed to messing up or hurting Dean. He’s not inexperienced at crossing lines he both does and does not see. It’s not new for him to let Dean down or betray him. But this— this is something else entirely and they all know it. Because Sam is right, Cas is one of very few people who has been gifted Dean’s trust. He knows that and has spent twelve years cherishing that fact on a daily basis, grateful and awestruck that he had been given something so beautiful and precious. He knows that he has been granted insight into Dean that nobody else, not even Sam, gets. That he has been the only one that has been able to get through to him sometimes.

He has been indescribably privileged to be this close to Dean at all, let alone for this long. He knows that, it’s the greatest blessing of his eternal life and he knows with an unbridled sort of certainty that nothing else will ever honor him in the same way, nothing else will ever even come close.

And through one careless remark, one remark made out of an attempt to deflect his own shortcomings, he has shattered twelve years of a bond that has held strong through everything else. He has laughed in the face of the greatest gift he has ever been given and he was too blinded by his own shortcomings to even realize he was doing any of this.

“I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?” Cas asks, looking ruefully at Sam.

Sam’s smile and huff of a laugh in response is sad and a little amused. “Yeah,” He says after a minute. “You have. But like I said, Dean’s never been one to deny you second, third, or even fiftieth chances.”

“I’ve never hurt him like this before.” Cas points out.

“Nobody has ever hurt him like this before.��� Sam remarks, and it’s clear that he doesn’t mean the statement to hurt, but it does anyways. “But that’s because he’s never cared about anybody like this. The way he is with you, Cas it’s— he never has been and never could be that way with anyone else. Whatever you two have, it’s completely irreplaceable.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s unbreakable,” Cas says dejectedly.

Sam stands up then, walking around the table to clap Cas on the shoulder in the way the Winchesters always do when they’re trying to be heartfelt or encouraging. It’s the closest they come to physical affection when nobody’s life is immediately on the line and it helps Cas feel a little better.

“Cas, if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that Dean will never let you go now that you’re back. He could spent the rest of his life spitting mad at you, and he’d still do it from no more than five feet away. When he comes back— and he will— he’ll be mad and he’ll be hurt, but he’ll be right here. You’ll have a chance to fix this.” It’s encouraging and terrifying in the same moment but Cas is grateful for Sam’s vote of confidence nonetheless. “Just don’t ask me how to fix it, because I sure as shit don’t know. You two have never gone about things in a way I can understand.”

Cas looks up at Sam, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for your insight, Sam.”

“Just remember,” Sam’s hand slips off of his shoulder. “There’s a reason that Dean cares as much as he does and takes your death as hard as he does. And the reason sounds a lot like something you said to him.”

“I thought you weren’t going to tell me how Dean feels.”

“I’m not.” Sam answers as he heads towards the door. “I’m just hinting at it. It’s different.”

He swings through the doorway and around the corner before Cas has a chance to say anything else.

#literally I have no excuse for this #I’m on s10 #but I’ve read so many goddamn fix its #that I just want to write my own now #it’s cathartic somehow #destiel #deancas #spn #supernatural

[cinnamontails-ff]

Why this is the perfect cover for "Accountant's Guide"

Alright, folks! It’s been a week of coming to terms with my overflowing emotions regarding this beautiful piece of cover art for the Ukrainian translation of Accountant’s Guide, and I am ready to wrestle it all into an essay.

Spoilers for the story ahead! It’s been finished since September 2023, so either read it here or proceed at your own risk!

First off, a huge, huge thank you to Marko_Wowchok for taking the time to translate my work and of course, the incredible @razinbee for creating a cover that, quite frankly, I could see as an ad for the next Studio Ghibli movie. You are both so very talented and your love and care for my story is so, so appreciated!

Now, as for the piece itself: Let’s start with the choice of showing just their hands, clasped intimately atop a piece of paper. It’s something I never would have come up with in a million years, but it’s absolutely genius. There’s a sense of subtlety to it. It leaves room for imagination because you don’t actually see what they’re doing; it’s simply implied that they’re most likely going at it on the desk (again). I love this. Because while I wrote Accountant’s Guide as a romance (and it does contain explicit spicy scenes), my goal was always to write Astarion and Scarlett as partners first and lovers second. I am really not a fan of romance stories that rely on physical attraction alone. Basically, if the story wouldn’t work with both of them being ugly, it’s not for me.

Astarion and Scarlett come together as reluctant allies at first. Scarlett offers him a deal to take out Cazador together and Astarion agrees mostly as a way of keeping himself entertained. He does not believe for a moment that she might actually succeed and he is actively planning to throw her to Cazador’s feet at the earliest convenience. But simply by working together, they start to grow closer over time.

Scarlett is the first person in centuries to treat him like a normal guy™. She is a very practical person - she has to be in order to willingly cooperate with the man who’s led her sister to her death. And while she isn’t immune to his flirting, she ignores it because she is painfully aware that he’s way out of her league and nothing good can ever come from that. It is only when she starts to see his vulnerable sides that she develops feelings for him and he, in turn, for her. At this point, however, they’ve both already saved each other’s lives several times. She has fed him when he was starving and he has slaughtered a bunch of guards that interrupted his poorly planned heist/date idea. They know each other, trust each other, rely on each other – they are a team in every sense of the word. When they do eventually share their first kiss in chapter 13, it is a powerful scene (if I do say so myself), but it is also really just one more layer to the bond that they have cultivated over the course of many months. Showing their clasped hands and nothing else is such a fantastic way to visualize the depth of their connection. It is a gesture of companionship and trust as well as intimacy and romance.

Then there is the positioning of their hands: Astarion’s on top of Scarlett’s, his fingers pinning her down, while her fingers are splayed out helplessly - dare I say, ecstatically. It is a stunning representation of their romantic dynamic. Astarion is the experienced, confident sex god who usually takes the lead, while Scarlett hasn’t done a whole lot of things before meeting him and is generally happy to go along with whatever he has in mind. He is her first. He is the one who shows her everything her body can do and he is careful in taking things step by step, working her up from missionary to slightly kinkier stuff all the way to her sitting on his face in “Pocket Money”. His hand on top of hers, holding her and guiding her, is a beautiful depiction of that.

At the same time, I like how the tenseness of his fingers in contrast to her more relaxed posture indicates how much he clings to her. After two centuries of being Cazador’s slave, Scarlett is literally the first time Astarion has anything that is his own. She is his first genuine connection, a lover he’s picked for himself, as well as his savior in helping to break him free from Cazador. He is terrified of losing her, so much so that he even tries to convince her to let him turn her into a vampire, so she won’t die before him. None of that is a perfectly healthy relationship dynamic, mind you, but who could expect that from him after what he’s been through? She is his lifeline. His anchor. The one glimmer of hope in two centuries and this man is ready to eviscerate any vampire lord, spawn, or magic teacher (sorry, Gale!) who so much as threatens to come in between them.

I also want to shout out how the softness and subtlety of their clasped hands reflects how their relationship has to unfold in secret. The second half of Accountant’s Guide lives off the tension of them plotting their plan B while living under the same roof as Cazador, both of them bound to him in different ways. They are in his house, their every move under constant scrutiny by Cazador as well as his spawn, and one wrong step could be the end for both of them. Those are absolutely cruel circumstances to be building a relationship in. Astarion has to make up lies to Cazador as to how he has gained access to a more regular blood supply. He has to pretend to be disgusted with her, so Cazador will continue to send him to comfort her, not one of the other spawn. Scarlett has to hide her bite marks and (awkwardly) flirt her way out of Cazador’s attempts at getting closer to her. There’s a sense of powerlessness to their situation that makes the intimate scenes they get even more special to both of them. I am generally a fan of subtlety, a big proponent of “less is more”, and I couldn’t be happier with how this is conveyed in the simplicity of their clasped hands on the desk.

Finally, the ink and fountain pen. Fountain pens have accidentally become one of my defining characteristics as a writer and I am not at all mad about it. I love heroines who succeed through cleverness and tenacity rather than Strong Female Character syndrome™. When I designed Scarlett, I really wanted someone who would throw Astarion for a loop. Someone he’d have no clue what to do with, someone so different from him and his reality, her every word would cause a flood of error messages in his precious brain. I wanted someone down to earth, someone who would play off him and make all his silly lines sound even sillier - and I wanted someone who’d be able to free him from Cazador through nonconventional and meme-worthy means.

And so I made her an accountant.

I have spoken about this before, but I hail from a family full of accountants. My research for this fic was every single family dinner I have ever attended. I love the ridiculousness of defeating a vampire lord through tax fraud because it plays on the inherent arrogance of Cazador. He is immensely powerful, physically as well as in his social influence, but he, too, can be brought down by a very diligent, very detail-oriented accountant who can demonstrate just how much money he owes the government, thus motivating them to step the fuck up and put him behind bars. It’s the epitome of the (fountain) pen being mightier than the sword. Scarlett is a character who has been underestimated her entire life and she doesn’t really mind it because when the time is right, she knows she can brandish her fountain pen and show everyone what’s what. She has a very quiet, unassuming type of power about herself that I have seen in the many badass accountants in my family and I love how this is reflected in the fountain pen, the ink pot, and of course the infamous ink stains on her fingers. Scarlett does not care about the ink on her fingers – she cares about getting shit done. And I love her for it. And Astarion loves her for it. But he will use every chance he gets to tear her off her work and bend her over the desk because he is also absolutely crazy about her.

This piece is sexy without being graphic. It is beautifully intimate and soft, yet still holds that tension between the two of them with Astarion holding on to her as hard as he possibly can and Scarlett practically melting at his every touch. It shows how a very unassuming, very mundane pencil pusher went and took down the immortal vampire lord with nothing but her mind and her fountain pen (and, well, math magic). The simplicity of it all is what really kicks me in the gut, I think. Because their love is simple at its core. It’s inevitable from the moment they first strike their deal in chapter 4. They don’t have a lot of grand gestures or epic fight scenes (the only fight scene is largely taken care of by The Gang as Astarion is stuck to the floor and Scarlett goes one-on-one versus Laiara). Even their love confessions are quiet and unassuming. They just grow together in a way that has always felt very natural to me and then they hold on and weather it all together until they emerge on the other side, together.

This piece hits right into the core of my story and I couldn’t be happier to see something so beautiful emerge from what I have created. Thank you. I will treasure this forever.

- Cin

#my writing #geeking out over stunning fanart #astarion x oc #astarion x female oc #bg3 astarion #astarion #cinnamontails

[houseofbrat]

Still so William let his cancer stricken wife being trolled online for the mother day pictures as well have her carry bags during at the farmers market. William sigh

That's the worst part. She had cancer all along and William was like "all right under the bus you go Cathy!"

Meanwhile the stans are calling him a hot zaddy and lusting after him.

Granted we are on Reddit so I guess the bare minimum is expected for men.

They have an entire press office and people that they pay to be their mouthpiece to the public.  Why the hell didn’t they just hand all of this off to them to have a plan to roll out to the public?  How did this go so badly?

Honestly, I'd love to know the whole story. Just to be clear, I mean the whole story of the PR fiasco, not Kate's specific medical problems.

This might be an incredibly unpopular opinion, not sure, but I really disagree with everyone saying oh she shouldn't have had to tell us about her cancer, she should have full privacy, etc. I agree with those thoughts for celebrities and influencers, but for people supposed to lead a country and whose lives are being fully funded by taxpayers, I do think they owe a duty of transparency around their health. I'm in the U.S. and we've all seen outrage because Biden's defense secretary kept cancer a secret for like a day, because Trump refused to release his physical results, I could go on.

I think it’s a really hard judgement to make because royalty is such a unique role, and there really isn’t much to compare it to.  Not to mention that there are 2 separate questions: what was she obligated to announce and what should they have expected as far as levels of curiosity about a high profile public figure.  I do think that there would have been strategies that they could have used to better preserve privacy in the face of public curiosity.

I agree. I tend to think royalty doesn't get to be totally private about major life events but that doesn't mean they don't deserve ANY privacy. I just feel like the outraged comments about how sad it is she was forced to tell people because of their evil speculating ways are going too far in the other direction.

I don't think she necessarily has to share a diagnosis, but expecting that she could disappear entirely from public view and no-one would ask any questions is ridiculous. They had at least two months to come up with any plan besides complete silence.

I never wanted them to discuss her medical issues but transparency would have helped. Don't treat people like idiots. They mishandled this, and there were a million ways to keep things private but not have things turn into a cluster. Prayers for Catherine.

in terms of prognosis...

"preventive" chemotherapy is a positive sign here

the fact that the surgeon did not recognize he was looking at a cancer tumor in the OR is a positive sign here

the fact that it required a complex biopsy (it took 5 weeks) for the pathology to find the cancer is a positive sign.

Having been through this recently with a spouse, what you’re saying sounds correct to me too.  She would have had the best of diagnostic tools, so that would have ruled out large masses.  The language also indicates that what they found was small.

whoever ran the PR definitely did it poorly. Part of the reason the mother's day photo blew into a bigger news event was all the major news agencies put out a kill notice on it. and they only did that because Kensington palace declined to share the unedited one when asked.

Chetwynd said news agencies asked Kensington Palace to provide the original photo, but they did not receive a reply. That’s when they decided to issue “kill notices,” something that is very rarely done.

but they didn’t stick to the timeline.. they decided to reveal a doctored image and then make Kate take the fall for it. even if she did edit the picture on her own just for fun, they didn’t have to put it on her alone? the whole thing was so odd.

They could have skipped the fake photo release. They could have reacted to the swell of interest by putting out a statement that there have been developments and they will communicate when they are ready. To pretend nothing happened since the Jan announcement is disingenuous and PR is about real time handling

#my gif #reddit #british royal family #PR fail #kate middleton #Catherine The Princess of Wales #kensington palace #palace officials #MESS! #William The Prince of OWN GOALS #William The Weak #William The Terrible #William The Prince of Wales #prince william

[tbposting]

today's adventures in receiving emails from ostensibly professional companies that wish to work with me

And my response:

Of course, this wasn't actually a serious inquiry. It was a YouTube channel network rep out fishing for clients to parasitise. They are generally companies that offer essentially no value while garnishing their clients' revenue and locking their victims into obscenely lopsided and abusive contracts.

But some days you just don't have the fucking mental energy to let shit slide off you. "Please unsubscribe and I won't email you again" how about you leave me the fuck alone as a baseline, actually, how about that? If all you're going to send me is insultingly shoddy spam garbage, how about you fuck off and I don't have to click random hyperlinks in emails from strangers? Eat dirt and choke on an ant.

IMAGE TEXT:

1 - an email reading the following:

Hi,

I hope this message finds you well. My name is (redacted) and I am a representative of Ritual. I recently came across your channel and was impressed by the quality of your content, particularly your video Frankenstein's tragic monster || Pride 2022.

I wanted to reach out to you to explore the possibility of collaborating together. We have several opportunities available that I think could be a great fit for your channel. Would you be interested in scheduling a call to discuss this further?

Best, (redacted)

2 - a follow-up email reading the following:

Hey,

Just a quick follow-up to my previous email. If this isn't something that interests you, please unsubscribe and I won't email you again.

I've been researching your channel and saw that you are not uploading on TikTok, is this something you have considered? TikTok is a great way to expand your existing audience. Our agency manages creators who have gained millions of fans on TikTok in a short period of time, and this then allows them to get this active audience watching their YouTube videos and consuming content on platforms away from TikTok. We're also able to help creators monetize on TikTok and it's a great revenue stream.

We are an agency that specializes in YouTube and have been working with some of the biggest creators on the platform for several years. However, we also understand the importance of being present on other platforms such as TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook. Our goal is to help you grow your brand and revenue on all platforms.

I would like to discuss with you how we can help you to expand your reach on TikTok, but also with a key focus on YouTube as the main point of our strategy. Are you available for a call or an email discussion? Best, (redacted)

3 - my response email, reading the following:

Hello (redacted)

I do, in fact, upload on TikTok. I have 140k followers, it's a terrible revenue stream, and I upload under exactly the same handle as on YouTube, so whatever research you purported to do was rather poorly done.

Also, it's broadly speaking not in great taste to cite someone's deeply personal Pride essay as "impressive content," because you immediately give off the impression that you are willing to casually monetize someone's queer identity as a branding exercise. It's an unpleasant vibe, it is not the kind of professional company I would want to keep.

It is also possibly the least representative example of my work you could possibly have picked to cite, although I suspect that's because you just copy-pasted a video title into the email. This is your job, I'm sure you write hundreds of these as form letters, and I am sure it is tedious and time consuming, nobody likes doing busywork or cold-calling strangers.

Please do not reach out to me again, I have no need or use for the services your company offers.

- TBSkyen

#tbposting #ignore me i am just complaining about my job

[someonexsomeone]

Street By Street

Title: Street by Street

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: It's really hard to love someone with everything you have when they have already lived.

Authors Note: guys!! its the first fic of Laufeyfest! I really wanted all of these stories to be love stories, but sometimes love stories are too easy. instead, how about a story that hurts mwahahaha

Miguel O’Hara was a man of a million expressions and emotions, but very few words. Though intimidating at first, it didn’t take long for anyone to listen to his short, clip sentences to realize that his care was beyond the measure of any normal person. His heart, despite being hurt, thumped with care for his city and its people, and his actions were always first and foremost to help those in need. It was, admittedly, that care that put you in his path.

It wasn't often that a civilian drew his attention. To be fair, most of his life had been surrounded by astounding people, whether the other geniuses that surrounded him in school, the classes he took at university, the capable scientists that worked alongside him at Alchemax, and even now, with the best the multiverse had to offer (though, he refused to admit that out loud to anyone but LYLA, the only other person who knew his complete plan). But, there was something about the way your eyes shinned in dedication, the absolute fury he saw on your face when the city treated its people poorly, the pride in the way your shoulders sagged after making progress in a corrupt city, that had him returning for more, whether it was stopping by to monitor you while you worked in a way so uniquely you, or to personally meet you in the lobby to once again say no, he didn’t have time to do a meet and greet at the Rec Center despite how great it was that you were fighting for union workers working the steam lines. He wanted to, more than he cared to admit, just to see that blinding smile he saw only occasionally thrown around whatever new project you were working on, but things were unstable right now. The dread in his stomach at the thought of being away from his computer long enough to let a world-destroying anomaly get away was too much, even for you. He did, however, feel his resolve slowly chip away whenever your posture slumped a little, despite the countless times he said no already, and bid a pleasant farewell with a promise to visit again soon.

“Don’t bother coming back”, slowly turned into, “I look forward to it” faster than even he could believe, and it surely didn’t help that the more Spiderpeople joined HQ, the more were there to witness his pathetic wave and gentle hand on your back as he lead you back to the front door. 

“You know,” Peter B remarked one day, appearing behind him with a giggling MayDay. Only a few months old and she was already a little ball of energy, squealing and making more noise than Miguel ever wanted to hear at work. “She really seems like a nice woman. You should give her a chance.”

“What would you know?” Miguel growled, spinning on his heel.

“I’m just saying, man. You got this whole miserable brute thing down pretty good, but it wouldn’t hurt to let yourself live a little.”

“I’ve done that already, and look how that turned out!” Peter B stepped back, whether for his own sake to escape Miguel’s wrath, or to protect MayDay he didn’t totally know. Miguel huffed, shaking his head once. “You know my story already. I’ve lived plenty, and we can’t afford any distractions while the Multiverse is falling apart-”

“I’m not saying you should give everything to go on a coffee date,” Peter B interjected, ignoring the glare Miguel sent him. “I’m just saying that you lived a life that wasn’t yours. Why not give this world a chance to make you happy? You know there won’t be any chance of anomaly here.”

“You don’t know that,” he snapped. Despite his annoying tendency to bring his child to work and butt in when he wasn’t needed, Miguel didn’t know if his frustration was from Peter B’s interference in his personal life…or the fact that he desperately wanted him to be right.

“Coffee. You can do that, can’t you?”

“And who will be here if something goes wrong? You?” Miguel huffed in amusement, nearly missing the slight smug twitch in his fellow spider’s smile. Peter B placed a hand on his larger companion's shoulder, willing himself to keep it there despite every nerve in his body twitching to take it away.

“Sure, I can do it, if you want.” Miguel eyed the hand on his shoulder. “You also have LYLA and Jess and even Ben.” They exchanged a single, pointed glance. “Okay, not Ben, but you do have people you can trust to notify you if anything goes wrong. And, besides, it’s not like you have to hide who you really are, unlike the rest of us..”

So, in a rare instance of trust, Miguel approached you and asked you out for coffee. 

Well, he really swung by while you were working downtown, scooping you up in his arms and bringing you to the quiet cafe inside HQ, demanding you tell him all about the fundraiser you approached him about last time. And, in a rare instance of admitting Peter B was correct, he didn’t have any regrets, not after your smile lit up your face, pulling out a folder from your bag to show him the plans.

Miguel was…to be honest, there wasn’t any word that could describe him better than odd. After a near year of being treated like every other average citizen to seeing him nearly every day to spending most nights together was a pattern you never expected to happen. Even more, you thought the unusual behavior was just that, unusual, but you had never met someone who could keep you on your toes so much. And, if you were honest with yourself, you loved every minute of it.

Yes, his demeanor would flip at the drop of the hat, but his morals never swayed from the dedicated man you loved. In a day you watched him badger a teenager before demanding they visit the medical ward for their injuries, pulverize a criminal on the street before swooping in to give you a gentle kiss, and throw a table across the room immediately after taking a selfie with his close digital companion. If you didn’t know him any better, you would be concerned for his health with the fluctuation in his mood, but there was something always stopping you from being afraid. 

That thing? The simple adoration in his eyes when they met yours. 

Being in his arms was always a pleasure, but you could stare into his eyes for hours without break, running your hands through his hair and just drinking in his entire being. Work would pass in a haze until you returned to his arms, and days off were spent walking around the HQ with him, staring longingly at him, and helping out where you could, which primarily meant distracting him when he started to bounce on his toes with impatience.

(Multiple Spiderpeople have caught you two sprawled on the couch in his office, you laying on top, just staring into his eyes and giving him gentle kisses every couple of seconds. It was the reason he now has a crude ‘Do Not Disturb. Idiots in Love’ sign outside his door that LYLA puts up near daily.)

So, when Miguel had to leave suddenly one morning, you thought nothing of it. HQ was needing him at any hour of the day, and being the protector of the multiverse was more than a simple 9-5 job. He planted a heavy kiss on your lips before departing, like he did every time (a silent apology for waking you up), and jumped from the landing outside your window. One glance at the clock, blinding numbers far too early to even comprehend, you rolled over and drunk in the scent he left behind on his warm side of the bed. Not seeing him that night was also not unusual, though you typically for some sort of message from him, just to let you know he was okay. Despite this, you tucked yourself into bed after a long day, ready to see him in the morning.

Then the morning came. By lunch, you still hadn’t heard anything. Dinner came and went. Then, two, three, four days and still not a word from Miguel. Now you were getting worried.

“LYLA?” you called into the watch on your wrist, legs crossed as you sat on your bed. A gift from Miguel if you ever needed something when he wasn't there, but you haven’t really had to use it recently. In fact, it took you over a minute just to clasp it around your wrist and find the button to turn the damn thing on, since it lived in your bedside drawer most days. Why have it on you when you were glued to Miguel’s side anyway?

“Hiya!” Her sudden appearance made you jump, a titling laugh escaping her digital lips. “What can I do for you?”

“Have you seen Miguel? I haven’t heard from him recently.” At this, her eyebrows furled.

“What?”

“Is he on a mission or something?” When she didn’t move, you clenched your fingers nervously. “I know I’m not really supposed to know any details but I figured maybe you could tell me if he’s okay or not. That’s something I’m allowed to know, right?” She continued to stand still like her model was completely frozen. “LYLA?”

“Sorry!” Her entire being glitched, bouncing up and down before swaying like she gave herself an electric shock. “I was just trying to see where Miguel’s watch was to let you know.” She gave you a pleasant smile, but there was something making the corners twitch suspiciously. “He’s currently at the cafe at HQ. I thought he was here with you this whole time.”

“With me? But he left five days ago and hasn’t come back. This is the first time I’ve heard anything.” Her smile turned completely.

“He hasn’t been with you? I thought…your watch is usually here so I didn’t even think to check…” She looked at your earnestly, before glitching again.

“LYLA? Is something wrong?”

“It’s just…he hasn’t let me come into the office recently, so I thought…And he hasn’t really been on duty since we had a minor anomaly warning the other day in the underbelly.” Your confused look turned to alarm. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Maybe he just found … something?”

“But wouldn’t he tell you?” When she didn’t say anything, you jumped up, practically throwing the watch around while you threw your jacket and shoes on. 

“Woah, woah, woah! What are you doing?”

“LYLA, he’s acting weird. Weirder than usual. If something’s going on…I need to know.”

“But you shouldn’t go out right now! It’s really late, and you have no one here to-” You smiled gently at her.

“I’ve lived here my whole life. Dedicated myself to it. Don’t worry, LYLA, I’ve walked these streets long before the protection of my Spiderman.” These reassurances didn’t do much to stop her from practically begging you to stay home and wait until the morning. You could hear her telling you she was threatening to send messages to Miguel that you were coming, threatening that she wouldn’t let you in the building so there was no point in going, even going as far as to activate the beeping notification on your watch that sent Miguel your location. You didn’t care. If something was bothering Miguel, you didn’t want him to be dealing with it alone, not after learning all about the near-debilitating, self-destructive depression he went through after losing his daughter.

HQ wasn’t close by any means, and your body was nearly frozen by the time you arrived at the front of it, too worried about Miguel to do anything about your pajamas. The building was burning like the brightest beacon, still managing to catch you in a moment of awe, before you approached the front doors. When you pulled on them, they rattled but didn’t open.

“LYLA?”

“I think you need to go home.” Her serious tone alarmed you.

Raising your arm so you were eye to eye, you stared at her. “What? LYLA, seriously what’s going on?” Her body glitched in and out on your wrist, her eyes flickering between you and the door. “If it was a mission or some Spiderman-related thing you would have just told me, so what’s really going on?” 

Her mouth opened and closed, before deciding on, “He’s in there with a woman.” Your eyebrows raised.

“Okay? A woman I know?” LYLA flinched but didn’t say anything. “LYLA, seriously. He’s a grown man, not some hormonal teenage boy. What woman?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“What?” She hesitated, then circled her hand in a motion you didn’t recognize. Beside her holographic body, a screen appeared. Miguel and a woman sat side by side, so close together that her side completely lined up with his. He was holding her hand gently, and her eyes were batting up at him, the HQ cafe’s sign brightly lighting up their faces so you could see their dual smiles. It took a double take to realize that, while you didn’t exactly recognize her, you did recognize her features. Your knees gave out, hitting the ground hard enough to bruise.

LYLA didn’t say anything, taking the photo away from your searching eyes.

“But...but…but…” Your brain couldn’t process it. What was Tempest doing here? You tried a few more times to form words, but your brain and your mouth refused to work together. Finally, they managed to form, “I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t want you to know.” Your eyes narrowed, mind stilling.

“You knew?” LYLA’s eyes widened.

“No!” Your skepticism was clear on your face. She winced. “Okay, I knew. But I promise that I didn’t know what was really happening.” You scoffed. “Miguel returned back from the investigation like he had seen a ghost. Then he asked me to replay the footage from the surrounding streets, and that’s when we saw her. He didn’t know that there would be a Tempest here! He left almost immediately after that, and when I saw his signal head towards you, I assumed…”

“But that doesn’t-”

“He brought her back to HQ later that night. He asked me to run scans on her and said he was going to distract her while I ran an analysis. That was it.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?!” Your furious tone made her flinch. Your eyes widened. “This is what you meant, wasn’t it? When you said he found something.”

“The scan came back negative for anomalies. She’s supposed to be here, she belongs in this world.” Your heart stopped.

“You mean…he has a chance…?”

“Any time I tried to get in contact with him that last couple of days, he told me he was off duty and that I should only contact him if there was an emergency. I thought…I was hoping he was spending it with you.” Your body was burning, the cold mixing with the chill that settled deep in your bones. Miguel, who you thought was the love of your life, had found something to bring back Gabriella, a second chance at the life that was cruelly taken from him. The happiness he had that, while he was very happy with you, didn’t stop you from catching him staring longingly at the only photo he had left of his daughter. “He loves you, you have to know that-”

“But why would he?” You ripped the watch off your arm, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “I just…I want him to be happy, more than anything. And I can’t…I can’t give him Gabriella.” LYLA started to protest, but you just shook your head. “Just…take care of him for me, okay?”

“No! Wait!” You placed the watch gently on the floor of the building. She continued to shout, the familiar ding of Miguel’s notification blasting rapidly. “Don’t leave! Please!”

You smile sadly at her, turning on your heel, taking the short walk back to the sidewalk with her voice slowly fading away. Despite your best efforts, tears spilled over, too large to allow you to see beyond your feet as they dragged along the pavement. Hiccuping sobs made your steps stagger, nearly crashing into the hedges that ran along the length of the Spider Society HQ. With a huff, you finally had to sit down, allowing the painful weeps to bubble over. Your heart was breaking into a million pieces, and your hands were shaking too much to catch the pieces.

“Hey! You there! Are you okay?” The voice was faint, barely audible over the whirling thoughts that muted everything around you. A figure crouched down in front of you, but it was still too hard to make out any features. ”Woah! Wait, what are you doing here? Where is Miguel?” The figure’s hands came into view, but they didn’t get close enough to touch you, only just enough to see that they hovered awkwardly in mid-air.

“...Peter?” you said softly after a minute, blinking rapidly enough to barely make his face. You pushed the heels of your hands into your eyes, wiping away as many tears as you could. “What..what are you doing here?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” He finally settled on patting your head, though you could tell it did not come as easy to him as it did when he did the same to his daughter. “Why are you out here?”

“I, um…” You huffed. “I was just leaving.”

“Leaving?” You nodded.

“Yeah. I, uh…,” Think brain! Come on! “...am about to start a new project at work that will take me away for a while so I just wanted to say goodbye to everyone. I didn’t realize how late it was though.” Finally clear-visioned, you made eye contact with the Spider person you had come to know the most, smiling gently at him. “I didn’t think I would be seeing you, though.”

“I’m on patrol tonight since Miguel couldn’t be here.” Your heart panged dangerously hard. “I thought for sure-”

“I’m glad I was able to see you before I left,” you interrupted, pulling yourself to your feet. Peter B just stared in confusion, slowly rising after you. “It’s so last minute, I was just going to send you a message through L-LYLA,” you pushed through the stutter, “but now I can give you a real goodbye.” You hugged him fiercely. Peter B hesitated only a moment before hugging you back. 

Your knees almost gave way at the comfort he provided, your arms locking even more. You were going to miss him, dearly. Now that Miguel had found his real love, where would that leave you in the mess that was the Spider Society? There was no reason for you to come back, not when Miguel was the only reason you went in the first place, but there were people in there you had come to care deeply for. Surely they would come out once in a while, maybe you could catch them then? Or maybe you could just walk up to the building like you always did, requesting LYLA to send them down so you guys could get something to eat together? The thought of your new friends made the pit in your stomach grow.

What would you do now? You had been so wrapped up in Miguel the last couple of months that you weren’t even sure what was going on on the day-to-day. Work had been so far from your mind that you had only taken on small projects here and there, leaving the bigger decisions to others so you wouldn’t have to stray so far from HQ. You hadn’t met up with your old friends and coworkers in months, let alone without Miguel at your side. Would they even want you back? How could they, when you had essentially broken their trust in you by picking a man over your friends, your work, your city? 

You pushed your head into Peter B’s chest further, allowing yourself just a moment more of his support. 

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” His voice broke your swirling thought cycle, jolting you back to reality. You gently let him go, twitching your face into the best smile you could muster.

“I’m fine,” you lied, “just tired from all the preparation. I need to be heading back though.”

“Let me take you.” Before you could protest, he stopped you with a raised hand. “Please.” You smiled again, this time a little more sincere.

“Thank you, Peter.”

After arriving home, you rushed to your laptop, typing the fastest message you could to your coworkers. After a minute, the late crew chimed back, more than happy to have you on board for the underbelly project they were having a hard time finding a leader for. Their enthusiastic, praising messages brought a smile to your face. 

This time, you swore, Miguel was going to get his happy ending, and you were going to get yours.

______________________________________________________________

masterlist  l What is Laufeyfest? l Laufeyfest masterlist

#miguel o'hara imagine #miguel x reader #niguel o'hara one shot #laufeyfest #miguel o'hara x you #reader insert #spiderverse imagine #miguel imagine #spiderverse one shot #spiderverset angst #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara imagine #atspv x reader #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you