#and even when heaven takes her. they cannot take that away.

[yuikomorii]

when that previous anon said that ayato is "evil and irredeemable" (this could be about any of the diaboys in general) i think it just means that his character development does not take away from the fact that at the end of the day he was still a cruel monster to yui in HDB/MB and that's inherently the diaboys' nature. yes he has the most human qualities and he's always been the one to sacrifice himself the most and and that's one of the things i love most about him but his actions in the old games/CDs (implied rape, taking out his anger on yui by attempting to tear her limbs off, etc.) absolutely cannot be redeemed. he knew full well what he was doing and that's where i think the "evil" part comes in. you could say he's a morally gray character that eventually learned to love because of yui but considering the nature of dl i think he is definitely still capable of that darkness we saw in HDB/MB. maybe not as extreme but i don't believe that his demon nature can be undone just because he fell in love with a human girl. and i am saying this as a diehard ayayui shipper

// I definitely think being a vampire twists someone’s nature, whether they were born human or not. Take Kanato’s Heaven scenario in HDB, where vampire Yui starts killing all the Kaminashi citizens and says she couldn’t care less how many people she has to sacrifice for him. That kind of mindset would sound extremely creepy coming from a human, but somehow it feels ‘romantic’ coming from a vampire. Still, Karlheinz rewound time, so none of the HDB events actually happened in the canon universe. No one remembers anything, no one was traumatized, and nobody died. So why dwell on it? That entire game is just as canon as any bad ending, since all bad endings happen in alternate timelines where time gets reset just like it. It’s fine to feel uncomfortable about it, but at the end of the day, I wouldn’t judge a character based solely on something that doesn’t even exist anymore.

As for MB, I honestly don’t see what was so cruel about Ayato or any of the other Sakamakis. Yeah, they called you prey and bit you, which is definitely painful, especially if you want to feel seen, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call what they did actual torture. And let’s not forget that in Ayato’s route, it was actually Yui who started off objectifying him. She only wanted to date him because, in her mind, he wasn’t a person with real feelings, just someone who made her feel good. In fact, by the second chapter, she even confesses that she likes him for his cuteness and the pleasure his fangs bring her. Hearing that wouldn’t make anyone feel like you like them for superficial reasons? Ayato kept biting her not just out of thirst, but because he was trying to give her what she wanted. It was a form of revenge, but let’s be honest, Yui did kind of walk into that situation herself. The entire route revolves around Yui presenting herself as a helpless maiden in need of love, but by the end, both she and Ruki come to realize that SHE is actually more selfish and more difficult to handle than Ayato.

The CD dramas are their own thing and don’t really connect to the games. The earlier ones were much bloodier and more violent, mainly because that kind of content fascinated a lot of people at the time. But again, they have nothing to do with the actual game canon, so it’s best to treat them as separate stories. For example, in Daylight, Ayato cries, which was something so big that even earned his CD an award, yet in the games’ current timeline, across all seven titles, he’s the only Diaboy who has never cried. And if you’re talking about that limb scene I’m thinking of, then no, Ayato wasn’t taking out his anger on her in that CD. She was actually chained up by the Mukamis, and Ayato believed that was the only way to help her escape. She was scared at first, but she did consent in the end. Yeah, it’s a messed up scene, but since she was okay with it, I honestly don’t care, lol. Be crazy together ig.

The thing that bothers me about how a lot of people think is this idea that whether or not someone is redeemable just depends on how many bad things they’ve done, or how serious those things were. Like there's some invisible scale, and if you did "too much" bad stuff or crossed a certain line, that's it… game over, you’re irredeemable. But if you stayed just under that imaginary limit, congrats, you’re still eligible for a redemption arc. And honestly that’s just NOT HOW IT WORKS. It’s not all about the number of bad deeds or how severe they were. Redemption isn’t this math problem where you tally up crimes and then try to balance them out with enough good deeds. That kind of thinking turns something so complex into a mere checklist, so it completely misses the actual point.

What really matters is how someone deals with the bad things they’ve done. You could make a ton of those, even really serious ones but if you actually recognize that what you did was bad, feel remorse, and genuinely try to be better without expecting anything in return, that says a lot more than someone who did fewer bad things but never changed no matter how much time passed by.

Redemption doesn’t mean that all your bad deeds are erased, it means being willing to improve yourself not because you want to erase your history, but because you understand that growth is the right path forward. It’s about committing to change your behavior and mindset so you don’t keep repeating the same mistakes you made in the past. That willingness to correct yourself and become a better person, even when it’s difficult, is what separates someone who is redeemable from someone who isn’t:

At the end of the day, yeah, all the Diaboys and even Yui, are morally gray characters, and honestly, that’s what makes them way more interesting. It just goes to show you can’t really judge people in just black and white terms. Nobody’s ever fully good or fully bad and everyone’s a mix of both, which is what makes them realistic.

[cinnasite]

“now she’s running from this d*ck, i told her stay with it”

꩜ pairing: caitlyn kiramman x female reader

꩜ warnings: explicit content, language

꩜ word count: 908

꩜ synopsis: you slip up and call your girlfriend “mommy”. the rest is history.

☆ art cred: @/xjdkg89q on twt :3

You're not sure how many times Caitlyn has made you come already.

Reduced to tears and beyond wrecked, your hands move to push your pussydrunk girlfriend away while your core yells at you to let yourself be royally ruined. After all, you did sort of ask for it.

The sheets are damp, your thighs sticky with your glistening slick, and she’s still not done with you. The strap-on inside you is thick and curved just right, pushing in deep with every merciless thrust as her fingers rub tight, fast circles over your clit.

She’s above you, rutting into you hard—strong and controlled like normal, like she knows exactly how you fall apart and has no intention of letting you hold yourself together.

“Such a mess already,” Caitlyn tuts, utterly calm, as if this is another regular day. “But, you’re not satisfied yet, aren’t you? Gods, just look at you. Fucking gorgeous.”

You choke out a high-pitched whine, nails digging into her biceps, as you try to keep up—your head spinning, your body convulsing.

"C-Caitlyn," you breathe out, barely able to process anything. "Hah—don't stop."

“I won’t, baby,” she pecks your cheek, deceptively affectionate and almost ruthless. “You don’t get to run from this.”

She thrusts deep without warning, hard enough that your back arches off the bed. It’s ridiculously obscene that it rips a pathetic sound out of you—half-moan, half-plea.

"O-oh, fuck! Ngh, feels s’ good, m-mommy—!"

Immediately, time freezes.

Your blood runs cold when the haze in your mind clears and reality comes tumbling down. 

No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening.

Caitlyn’s hips stutter, her body suddenly heavy above yours as she looms there and gapes at you. The room goes silent except for the rapid thud of your heartbeat.

You hadn't planned to say it. You swear.

It, quite frankly, slipped out, tangled in desperation—your brain too fuzzy, your mouth too loose. And now it flickers between you like something sinfully electric.

Your eyes widen, “I—I didn’t—”

Her hand grabs your jaw and tilts your face up, a squeak escaping you at the sudden movement.

Caitlyn's expression is surprisingly unreadable. Her mouth is slightly parted and her eyes blaze dangerously blue. Not angry, no, but… hungry.

“Say it again,” she whispers, her demand crackling with charged want.

You blink up at her, stunned.

“Caitlyn—”

“No,” she interjects, her words sharper than before. “That’s not what you called me, sweetheart. Say it again.”

Your pulse trips. You don’t even mean to obey, you’re embarrassed for heaven’s sake; it happens naturally.

“…Mommy.”

Once you let the title hang in the air, that’s it. Something inside her snaps.

She nearly growls, low in her throat, and then she’s moving, grabbing your wrists and pinning them hard to the mattress above your head with one hand. The other braces against your thigh as she fucks into you again, this time with real intent.

“That's my good girl,” Caitlyn pants, rough now, feral. “So, so needy you couldn’t help yourself.”

Your legs quiver as she pounds into you, the wet slap of her hips hitting yours echoing through the room. The tip drags hard against your sweet spot, her rhythm relentless.

“You wanted mommy to take care of you, didn’t you?” she hisses, dragging her mouth along your throat. “Wanted to be ruined by her cock, stuffed like a little slut.”

“Y-Yes—” you can’t think. You surrender to the pleasure, incoherently babbling, “I need it so bad, mommy. S-shit, please—”

“Oh, you need it?” she mocks, deliciously cruel. “Wasn’t even meant to come out, was it? But you can’t stop calling me that, can you?”

You shake beneath her, too gone, too broken, too everything.

“I bet you’ve been thinking about it,” Caitlyn continues, grinding into you even deeper, her physique commanding every inch of your skin. “Thinking about mommy tying you down and fucking you dumb. Claiming this pussy like it’s hers. Isn’t that right?”

You cry out, thighs trembling under her grip.

“It’s yours, mommy—mmf—a-always been yours—”

“Fuck.”

Her fingers dig into you harshly. She leans down and kisses you hard, biting your lower lip before pulling back. Her face is flushed and focused, hair an absolute mess, brow furrowed like she’s concentrating on every thrust.

“You want to come for mommy, princess?” she asks, and it’s so filthy the words punch straight through you.

“Yes,” you moan shamelessly, teetering on pornographic. “Please—please let me.”

“Then take it,” she groans. “Be a good girl and take it.”

Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave. You scream, legs jerking, as pleasure rips through you, abrupt and shattering. You don’t even realise you’re sobbing until Caitlyn finally stops moving, letting you breathe.

She stays buried to the hilt inside you, slowly rocking her hips enough to make your oversensitive body twitch and whimper.

Her expression softens to its usual protectiveness.

“There she is,” she coos at your beautifully fucked-out state. “That’s my girl. All spent. All mine.”

You nod, barely conscious, lips swollen and cheeks wet.

She finally lets go of your wrists and cradles your face in both palms, her thumbs brushing away the tears gently.

“You’re going to call me that again,” Caitlyn says in a tone that caresses like fine silk yet cuts like a vicious blade. “Next time, you’ll beg for it and I’ll show you what it really means to be mommy’s girl.”

[glittergrenade]

roommate ! abby headcanons

roommate! abby who’s in her second year of med school. she’s drowning in exams and papers, but never makes it your problem.

roommate! abby who definitely eats protein packed gym food. she won’t admit it- but she much prefers your home cooked meals to her grainy protein pancakes.

roommate! abby who sucks ass at mario kart. she’d much rather spend her evening reading an article of some sort.

roommate! abby who still plays with you every time you ask her. she always plays as koopa troopa. she gets all pouty when she loses and accuses you of cheating.

roommate! abby nursing you back to full health when you’re ill. she’ll cook something other than hard boiled eggs for once- making you soup, forcing medicine down your throat.

roommate! abby who proudly introduces you to all of her friends, dragging you to hang out with them. they seemed a bit skeptical of you at first, but she defended you to heaven and back.

roommate! abby coming back from the gym all sweaty and worn out. she melts onto the couch, complaining to you about her aching quads after leg day.

roommate! abby who texts you with perfect grammar and spelling. she’s like, ‘Should I stock up on groceries? 🤔🧐🍆🍎🥕’ she sometimes might even throw in a cartoon gif or two.

roommate! abby whose love language is physical touch. she always leaves lingering touches on you, subtly placing a hand on your waist or shoulder- an arm around your shoulder on movie night.

roommate! abby who has definitely picked up on your habits and favourite things. when you’re feeling sick or on your period, she’ll come home with your favourite snacks without having to even ask her.

roommate! abby always grabbing stuff from the shops or the library if it reminds her of you. she especially likes buying you silly socks in your favourite colour or with an unfunny dad joke on it.

roommate! abby who misses alice a lot- always showing you photos of her beloved puppy.

roommate! abby buying a flower vase for the dining table. you two take turns replacing the flowers- and abby buys your favourite flowers every time the old ones begin to wilt.

clearly got a little carried away … i cannot help myself !!!! apologies for any mistakes … it’s midnight

[shizunitis]

Ghostfire Shen Yuan loyally following the lonely, undying, forgotten Luo Binghe from the original outline.

They never even met.

Shen Yuan had died long before Luo Binghe’s story was set to start. Abandoned by his System, he was left wandering the realms, searching for anything to latch onto, anything to stave off the darkness encroaching on his consciousness whenever he stopped. He keeps himself entertained with little jokes and references that will never reach anyone. At least back home, there were other people on the opposite side of his screen reacting, seeing. Paying attention.

He never would have thought he’d miss the times he was perceived by others. He’d give anything, though. Anything.

He stumbles upon the protagonist as he’s ascending the stairs of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect for the first time. Dressed in rags and heaving with the effort, Luo Binghe is exactly as Shen Yuan had pictured: a little bun, soft and kind and so very brave.

The excitement wears off soon enough. When the tea ceremony is held, Shen Yuan watches, hopelessly trying to stop the cup from hitting Binghe’s head. He lunges at Shen Jiu; let him be identified and exorcised, at least he would have done something with himself, however useless. It doesn’t work. Of course not—nothing can come between Luo Binghe and his fate.

Shen Yuan thinks about leaving. Many times. But every time he considers the possibility of going back to wandering the world, or just passing on… Well. There’s still a lot to see, isn’t there? It will get better. It will.

Only, it doesn’t. Not really.

There’s no harem; there’s no warm comfort offered to Luo Binghe by a sympathetic beauty, no wedding celebrations, no moments of gentle companionship, however brief, however superficial. There’s no camaraderie with his demon underlings, his generals, his allies; it’s all casual cruelty and dismissals, before it’s violence and subjugation.

There’s no joy. There’s no hope. There’s no ‘better’.

Something is wrong, that’s clear. Something is wrong, and Shen Yuan has no one to blame.

This is not the Proud Immortal Demon Way he knows.

Centuries later, when Luo Binghe begs for the heavens to allow him to die, Shen Yuan hears. When Luo Binghe rages against the passage of time, alone in the wreckage of his palace, left behind by everyone he’d ever known, Shen Yuan accompanies him. When Luo Binghe lies down in the Holy Mausoleum and refuses to get up, Shen Yuan waits, as he had for centuries, until Luo Binghe opens his eyes again and takes to the road.

They end up in a hidden realm so filled with Yin energy that Shen Yuan can channel it to manipulate his form into that of his former body. It’s not detectable by the living, but it’s there. He feels stronger, too. He can walk, float, fly, interact with what few other ghosts they encounter.

Still, Luo Binghe cannot see him.

Luo Binghe doesn’t talk much. Well, that makes sense, he was never in the habit of talking to himself, but still. It’s lonely.

They end up in a town where a diviner takes one look at Luo Binghe and offers him a free reading. Shen Yuan can’t enter her tent, well-warded against foreign entities as it is, so he waits outside.

She tells Luo Binghe of the little hanger-on he’s got. A powerful one, too, though he’s still getting used to his powers. He’s been here for a long time, she says. Since he was a child. He comes from far away—farther than even the most distant star.

Luo Binghe begins talking to him. Shen Yuan isn’t sure why, but he’s not complaining!

Luo Binghe also begins meditating again, trying to soothe the damage done by Xin Mo over the centuries. For every meal, he places a few fruits or snacks across from him on a plate he’d made himself, which he eats only after finishing his own dish. He makes space by his side whenever he walks on a narrow road. He stops at every landmark and tells stories about them, always starting the same way.

“Do you remember when…” becomes Shen Yuan’s favourite phrase.

One night, Luo Binghe sighs and looks across the table. Shen Yuan places himself so that he’s in Luo Binghe’s focus.

“What is it, Binghe?”

Luo Binghe doesn’t answer him, of course. Still, it feels like a conversation, when he says:

“I wish I knew your name.”

Shen Yuan frets. He’s been trying to manipulate the physical world, but he never got the hang of it. He’d tried drawing in sand, with water, just pushing things off shelves. And yet, nothing.

“I’m sorry, I wish—” he tries, but Luo Binghe is already talking again.

“I wonder if we ever crossed paths when you were alive.” He’s expressed this thought more than once. Shen Yuan never likes to think about how they’ve missed each other, how they’d been set up for failure from the start. “I wonder if we would have been friends.”

Shen Yuan scoffs. Of course not. Him and the protagonist? No way.

But—those cold star eyes, blindly searching for him, trying to land on him… They make him want to say, I would have liked that.

He reaches a hand out to touch Luo Binghe’s forehead. He’s taken to doing it whenever Luo Binghe broods, or makes a silly joke Shen Yuan wishes he didn’t find funny. It’s soothing.

He wishes Binghe could feel it.

When his finger touches the demon mark, it blazes. Luo Binghe gasps, that heavy gaze settling on Shen Yuan’s face.

Shen Yuan startles, and jumps away.

“No! Wait!”

Shen Yuan hesitates. Luo Binghe is looking around himself, eyes begging for even a wisp of Shen Yuan’s shadow.

He can’t deny Luo Binghe this.

He can’t deny himself this.

He reaches out again. This time, he cups Luo Binghe’s cheeks. When those eyes clear of panic and widen in awe, he whispers, softly, “Shen Yuan. My name is Shen Yuan.”

Luo Binghe looks like he’s been handed a treasure so precious he’s afraid to touch it. He hesitates, raising his hands in careful starts and stops, before taking Shen Yuan’s face in them, gently caressing the soft, cold skin of his face. His eyes dance with the haste he takes in memorising Shen Yuan’s features.

Then, he smiles. Helpless and weak and so, so precious. Shen Yuan has not seen hope so bright in Luo Binghe’s face since that fateful day on Cang Qiong Mountain.

“Hello, Shen Yuan.”

[peanutheaddd]

NEW PEANOR AU YYYYAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! dm DIVINE LIBERATION AU!!!!!!!!! deets below cut as always

im gonna preface by saying idk anything about the christianity lore and im not all too interested in learning it either. i was a christian for much of the early years of my life and i dont care much to go back to that era LMFAO most of this au is js using christian imagery bc the christians lwk ate so hard w their religious imagery . neon genesis evangelion type beat . anwyays moving on.

a bit obvious but i gotta start my lore dump somewhere. dm is a priest in this au and petey is a demon

petey is a fallen angel . as in he was born an angel but he was expelled from heaven

in this au there is corruption in the heaven and hell system . god is dead type beat. but not rlly . maybe dormant? maybe god has lost faith in humankind and has gone into hibernation? god cannot exist without faith smth smth Aaanyways.

that being said petey only got expelled from heaven for reasons almost entirely out of his control. he is still graces son and im thinking grace got involved in some anti heaven stuff bc yk heavens system was becoming more and more fucked up . so i reckon when they found out they executed her and as they were in the process of executing her petey tried to protect her but obvs he couldnt be he was a kid. so they executed her and expelled petey for being a traitor . this all happens when peteys like the human equivalent of 12-14 years old maturity wise

anwyays that being said lil petey is an angel. considering when petey was his age he was still an angel . i will go more into lp later

petey is sorta in denial about falling at first bc hes scared but eventually he just leans into the demon thing bc he feels helpless (parallel to canon petey) and just causes a shit ton of trouble. his causing trouble is a way of protecting himself Essentially

eventually he causes a little Too much trouble and he gets turned into a powerless imp by the higher up demons . hes doomed to stay in that form unless hes able to corrupt a priest whos been causing a lot of trouble for the demons . Guess who this priest is.

dms accident with knight still happened (probs happened as a result of one of peteys Funny Doings but not as a direct result.) and dm copes with it by seeing it as a holy act of salvation or wahtnot. like he was saved by gods blessing and by knights sacrifice. half of this is bullshit since as i said god is in a hibernation state. so it was really just All knight. but anyways

knight was a priest before this and its the only life that dms ever known so he kinda just continues with it . he is lwk a better priest than knight was (he got a lot of secondhand religious education just from being around knight so much and hes smarter than knight) so the church just lets him take knights place essentially.

dm is just more calm and collected in this au as well . he found out pretty early on that him being too energetic got knight into trouble which made him sad so he learned to control himself a bit . there was also the threat of him being taken away from knight if he acted out too much which was the worst case scenario for him so , yeah another incentive to behave himself .

anwysays a lot of petey and dms interactions initially are pretty lighthearted . book1 and 2 core. its js petey annoying the hell out of him and dm trying to ignore him LMFAOOOOO this is how petey gets the genius idea to try and summon a clone so he can be more effective in bothering dm . this is how lil petey is created LMFAAOAOOOOO

for this au peteys denial about being related to lp in any way shape or form is waaaayyy worse bc he still has a Lot of trauma from when he was in his angelic state . and he doesnt wanna associate with angels or heaven in any capacity . so even looking at lp is hard for him.

peteys still able to go into his full demon state, but only for brief periods of time . its also super physically taxing so he has to be really careful about it or else he could abruptly change back into his imp form when hes in the middle of danger

eventually petey "corrupts" dm as in dm just acts like a Human (this is also a criticism on the inhumane standards placed on people and how oftentimes humans are shamed for acting like Humans because theyre being held to some holy standard for the promise of a perfect afterlife . using christianity as a proxy for this since christianity is the shining example of doing this a lot) . im thinking its him going against an angel or holy figure to protect petey and/or lil petey

im thinking the overarching plot of this story is intimately tied to lil petey. the plot starts off with petey trying to corrupt lil petey and turn him into a demon so that he can have a little minion .

this attempt to corrupt lp continues even after petey starts to see him more as his son because then hes like well if im a demon then my son should also be a demon . hes also starting to get scsred of what heaven might do if they find out about him . bc as far as peteys aware once heaven gets wind of lil peteys existence theyd either execute him for being an anomoly or just take him away to raise him in heaven since hes an angel. both scenarios are likely (knowing heaven) and its also literlaly the worst thing that could possibly happen. so he slike okay if i just turn lp into a demon then theres no reason for heaven to take him away .

((semi unrelated but this is a parallel to canon to me. this is js my personal headcanon but i think peteys so obsessed eith having lil petey turn out evil in the earlier parts of the series because for him acting evil was a self defense tactic. its a way to protect himself. so by having lil petey act evil hes essentially teaching him how to protect himself in the only way he knows how . when he was rejected by the world and left all alone he was able to stay alive by being a criminal. and past the nonchalant "u have to be evil just because" facade i truly do think it was . again petey subconsciously teaching lp to protect himself in the way that protected HIM from the world. so yeah ))

i think petey probs doesnt tell dm about any of this because dm is a priest . petey fully believes that if dm finds out about lil petey being his son and thus being technically disconnected from the heaven system he would try to alert heaven about it through some mortal means . so for a lot of the earlier parts of the plot dm thinks that lp is a little angel who just kinda comes down to earth from time to time . hes totally unaware that he and petey are related . yes they look almost the same but an angel and a demon being related is totally unprecedented . so he doesnt even consider it

petey also makes sure that lil petey keeps his mouth shut about them being related by telling him that if dm ever finds out that hes his dad then he might never see him again .

but what petey fails to realize is that dms loyalty doesnt lie with the church . it lies with knight . his loyalty is far removed from any kind of institution . so when he evtnually does find out (i reckon through some way out of peteys control) and petey basicaly begs him not to tell heaven because of systematic issues and the possibility of lp getting executed dm immediately agrees. at this point hes close enough to lp and petey by extension that hes willing to forgo his loyalty to the church which only really existed because of knight in the first place . everything he had done religion wise up until this point was bc of knight . so if hes asked to choose between what knight might have wanted vs the real tangible being that is begging him not to tell heaven then he is going to choose the real tangible being . thats his family dawg.

essentially for dm the real living thing happenign in his world is infinitely more important than the moral system that hes been taught .

plot basically then goes to heaven finding out and sending angels to try and find lp as petey and dm get up to shenanigans to hide him . i reckon hell also gets involved in it . heaven and hell are "opposites" but theyre hand in hand when it comes to their shit polarized system . and lil petey as an angel being petey the demons son goes against this system and undermines their power . so both heaven and hell arent all too happy about it .

the climax is the event where dm is "corrupted" like i mentioned above . i reckon this is the event that brings god out of hibernation . smth smth free will smth smth complete and total rejection of heaven by one of its servants for a holy purpose smth smth . you feel me ? and i reckon the angels are abt to finish them off or smth and god is like HEY. STOP THAT. 👎👎👎👎

petey does not become an angel again at the end of the plot. dm does not become an angel or a demon or anything like that . he just stays a mortal being. and he still stays loyal to religion in knights memory despite being friendly with a demon, despite defying the church for said demon. the whole point is that this polarization of identity bullshit is stupid when humanity is so diverse . theres nuance snd complexity and its literlaly impossible to categorize people into discrete identities. thats not how it works

i reckon dm doesnt stay a priest just because that would require adhering to their standards which dm does not fuck with . so he probs just goes and finds some other job while staying religious. smth smth religion is not inherently evil its only the way that its used by hateful people

holy fuck this might be one of the longest lore dumps ive ever done about an au. god bles. LMFAOOOOOOOOO

[ilxlita]

｡ﾟ(｡ﾉωヽ｡)ﾟ｡ 𝙞 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙨, 𝙞 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩.

SYNOPSIS: a headcanon of how bnha boys (and toga) are whenever they miss you. PAIRINGS: various bnha boys x reader, also toga is included because it'd be fucked if i used her as an image and she weren't. like she is literally the definition of "i miss my wife tails". TAGS: pure fluff. so sweet. bakugou does have a VERY VERY small section of nsfw if you squint. all characters are aged up for my own mental health. in my head toga is also a pro hero but i guess you could picture her as a villain if you're a monster /j. AUTHORS NOTE: literally toga is not beloved enough. she is the literal defintion of "I LOVE MY WIFE SO MUCH". like hello, what?

IZUKU MIDORIYA ♡ the man that he is. izuku for sure misses you as SOON as he leaves the house whether that be for a pro hero mission or for work, he is missing you. ♡ 100% is texting you as soon as you or he leaves the houses. like he is such a needy husband. he will conjure up a reason to send you a cute little text whether that be asking what you want for dinner or sending you a picture of a feral cat. ♡ izuku, when you guys are married, is not shy about how much he misses you. whenever people ask him what he's doing after his mission he will announce "me and my wife are doing..." like even if you're not a pro hero other pro heroes KNOW YOU because of how much izuku gushes over you ♡ heaven forbid he ever goes on a multiple day long mission or else he might actually call you all the time. asks you to send him voice messages of your day, asks you to call him so he doesn't fall asleep alone. sends you little videos of him going throughout his day. ♡ when he gets back it is 100% date night !! he will take you to a fancy resturant he saw, or he will take you to a cute little store and insistenet you purchase as much as you want no matter how expensive it is. he really just loves his wife.

KATSUKI BAKUGOU ♡ katsuki bakugou never misses anyone ever. if you ask him he will say he does NOT think about you during his missions because he is locked into his mission. if anyone brings up the fact that katsuki DEFINITELY stares at a photo of you when he's away HE WILL DENY. ♡ katsuki shows that he misses you never through words, but always through words. he will text you randomly throughout the day just things like "what are you eating? has to be better than this garbage ass food" or "found this candle that you would like since you like spending money on useless crap i bought it for you." ♡ KATSUKI FOR SURE GETS BUTTHURT WHEN YOU LEAVE HIM ON READ. like you're working and cannot text him back immediately? he'll respond with "guess we're just leaving each other on read then" or something like "damn guess i should've married a wall at least im not expecting a text back from it." like katsuki is the sassy man apocolapyse. ♡ he 100% buys trinkets for you that reminded him of you. a little stuffed bunny from the store? that's literally you so usually when he comes home it's with a few cute gifts depending on how long he was away for. ♡ the day he comes home is reserved for "miss you" sex and him pampering you and treating you like a princess. he will cook you a beautiful gourmet meal, present his gifts and brush little kisses on your face.

HIMIKO TOGA ♡ as stated previously. himiko is quite literally the definition of "i miss my wife" along with izuku. like she HATES going out of town for missions because she is constantly thinking of you, what you're doing, if you miss her as much as she misses you. ♡ pro hero toga would NOT take your blood and drink it to comfort herself (but villain toga for sure would), my girl is for sure bringing things that remind her of you. if you bought her cute little hair ties she will only wear those! told her one of the necklaces she wore was cute and she will wear it always. ♡ toga for sure goes harder in battles when she's away from you because she HAS TO GET HOME TO HER WIFE OBVIOUSLY. like she will not be dying today, her wife misses her :/. furthermore she is also constantly calling and texting you even if she's in the middle of battle, like she will have you on a phone call in her ear buds while in battle. ♡ "how's your day, cutie patootie?" and all you hear is an explosion in the background before you go on about your day. it is very rare that himiko is not only given out of town missions but also takes them because she hates being away from one of the few people who loves her genuinely. ♡ himiko is absolutely putty in your hands when she does get home, like literally whatever you want. she'll cuddle you close to her chest and if you see a cute pair of high heels you want she is buying them for you INSTANTLY.

HITOSHI SHINSOU

♡ due to the nature of his work hitoshi will not be texting you or calling you during his missions. he is very rarely on his phone because he is often doing undercover spy work, but please do not take that to mean he does not miss you. ♡ hitoshi is very soft; he is not used to missing someone so he is not quite sure what to do with the feeling of wanting you next to him and that usually manifests in him doing things that remind you of him especially while he's undercover. ♡ your favourite meal becomes his favourite meal while he's away, your favourite colour is now his, your favourite scent is now his. hitoshi will always leave you with a hoodie that smells the most like him but in return he's taking one his shirts that you always sleep in so he can smell you while he sleeps. ♡ because hitoshi does undercover work, he is often by other people. often surrounded, but if he's not and he's going on a mission with aizawa or another undercover pro hero he is bringing you up so often in casual conversation, someone definitely has to tell him to stop because he doesn't realise he does it. ♡ when he gets home you are not leaving the bed. he is cuddling you close to his chest, explaining the mission to you and absolutely forcing you to tell him how your days were when he was gone. he will buy take out and pay that twenty dollar delivery fee just so you two can stay wrapped in each other at all times.

SHOUTA AIZAWA ♡ shouta, much like hitoshi, is usually constantly doing cover work which means that it would be dangerous to constantly be in contact with you and he tells you this each time before he leaves just so he can remind you that he is not ignoring you; he simply has to be locked in. ♡ shouta does not text you or call you, but whenever he's alone on a rooftop or in his hotel room he will look back at the photos and videos of you two especially your wedding photos where you are just glowing. ♡ shouta for SURE has a printed out photo of you laughing at him candid on the wedding day. he has it in a little necklace that he can look at whenever he misses you too much. feel like if you have stuffed animals he steals one so he can sleep with it (not cuddle it), but for sure sleep with it. ♡ shouta also likes to buy little knick knacks for your shared home whenever he is gone. it's usually like a little special magnanet, a teddy bear to add to your collection, a snowglobe if he goes to another country, just little things. ♡ shouta when he gets home is usually dog tired so he will insist that you take a nap with him regardless of the time of day afterwards he drowns himself in domestic tasks; cooking, cleaning the home, doing laundry. all things to try and pick up the slack that he left when he was gone.

KEIGO TAKAMI ♡ keigo is in the very awkward position of missing you immensely on his missions and having absolutely no idea how to express it because he has never been in the position to miss anybody ever. like he is used to a solitary life and now he has a wife that he is missing? he has no idea what to do with himself. ♡ the first day of him gone he is playing cool and nonchalant. each time he thinks he won't miss you, but it's always something little and stupid that triggers him spiraling and missing you (usually a song or a smell) and he is spam texting you. ♡ keigo also constantly wants to do phone calls, especially at night when he is calming down and relaxing becase he thinks of you the most when he is at ease. call you up so you can fall asleep to the sound of his voice and so he can fall asleep to the sound of you talking about your day. ♡ he is also definitely indulging in buying you trinkets, but it's usually not cute little one. it's usually expensive necklaces, beautiful earrings/bracellets, and if you have any body modifications he is 100% buying expensive body jewlerry. he is a bird and showers his partner in expensive and shiny things. ♡ usually when keigo gets back it's late so he will tuck himself into you and sleep. the next day he is taking you to an expensive fancy brunch or if you want an amazing homemade dinner. literally he just wants to feed you and take care of you, he wants you to know that there was not a single moment of the mission where he wasn't thinking of you (without actually just saying it.)

[obito-in-disguise]

| Boyfriend Giyuu headcanons |

Boyfriend Giyuu who hasn’t fully settled into the idea of being in a relationship. Letting someone get so close feels foreign to him, terrifying even, because in his mind, anyone he loves he loses.

Boyfriend Giyuu who, on that note, is fiercely protective. If you’re a Demon Slayer or a Hashira, he refuses to let you go on missions alone. He’s always nearby, shadowing your steps, ready to intervene at the first sign of trouble. If you’re a civilian, it’s even worse. He declines long missions after you start dating, assigning someone he trusts (poor Tanjiro) to watch over you when he can’t. Heaven help them if they slip up and something happens to you on their watch, Giyuu will put them through weeks of grueling training as punishment.

Boyfriend Giyuu who does all this because he physically cannot bear the thought of losing someone he loves again. If he’s let you into his life, you’ve become his priority, and he’ll do whatever it takes to ensure you’re safe.

Boyfriend Giyuu who pretends not to care about your affection but gets so grumpy the moment you forget his daily good morning or welcome-back kiss. “So… you’ve decided you don’t love me anymore.” His tone is deadpan, but the slight pout at the corner of his lips gives him away “What?!”

Boyfriend Giyuu who bats your hand away any time you try to initiate PDA. But later that evening, he’s wrapped around you like a koala, his face buried in your tummy, arms locked tightly around you. His silent glare dares you to complain about his hypocrisy.

Boyfriend Giyuu who secretly loves when you leave little trinkets or items at his place. His once barren apartment slowly starts looking homier, softer, little touches of you filling the empty space. (Seriously, did you see how empty his house was in that one episode? get some furniture damn #psycho. At least we know where Kim K got her inspiration from)

Boyfriend Giyuu who completely suffocates you in his sleep. He wraps his limbs around you so tightly, practically lying on top of you, like a human blanket. You like to tease him that his subconscious is just making up for all the affection he represses during the day.

Boyfriend Giyuu who is surprisingly tender despite his cold, aloof exterior. Gentle touches, small but thoughtful gifts, and quiet acts of service speak volumes about how much he loves you, even when he doesn’t say it out loud.

Boyfriend Giyuu who loves you more than words can express. And even if he doesn’t always know how to show it, he hopes you feel it in the way he holds you, protects you, and stays by your side.

This Giyuu fic has been sitting in my drafts for agesss. I'm slowly slipping out of my current Naruto obsession and back into my kny one. Please expect more Kny headcannons from now on, thnx.

Feel free to check out my other Demon Slayer fics and more stories!

[valalice]

ﾒ taking the best naps in chloe's bed.

cw. fluff. fem!reader. established relationship. chloe is a tease. barely suggestive towards the end. not proofread.

the bed dips as chloe sits on the edge, the palm of her rubbing steady circles on your back. she thought the sensation would cause you to slip further into dreamland, but her warm palm on your clothed skin startled you awake.

eyes fluttering open, you think the blue haired girl in front of you to be apart of your dream, the silhouette of her figure blurred—wait, you don't remember falling asleep—are you even dreaming right now?—the blunt ends of chloe's nails rake along the length of your back, sending blots of shivers down your spine; you've got to be dreaming right now, or you've somehow passed and made it to heaven, because of course the perfect heaven is chloe price scratching your back.

"wakey wakey, sleepyhead." chloe teases, her voice hushed. almost as if she didn't want to shatter the hazy space you're in.

groaning you push your head further into your (chloe's) pillow. losing the battle and letting your eyes shut once more. "'m not sleeping." your words borderline incoherent with your face smushed into the pillow. chloe chuckles, feeling the bed dip further as chloe leans down closer to your face.

"didn't catch that." even with your eyes closed you can hear the smirk that's plastered on her face right now, her fingers now ghosting over your back, but pulls them back when she feels you shifting.

with a huff you push yourself off the pillow, not bothering to open your eyes. "i'm not sleeping." you reiterate, before flopping back down onto the plush cushion, getting comfortable once again.

chloe hums, "you sure about that? because whatever you were doing for the past few hours looked a lot like sleeping."

"i was resting my eyes." you answered matter-of-factly. when truthfully you don't remember falling asleep. you remember chloe picking you up to hang out, you remember the jingle of keys opening the door, the short stamped up the stairs, and laying on her bed, then everything just blanks. but, you cannot be blamed, ever since you've known chloe her bed has had some tight grip on you sending you straight to sleep; it's troubling whenever you want to spend any kind of time with chloe in her room and the moment she turns away from you, your body is limp as your consciousness drifts off to sleep; much like today.

"right, because sleeping and resting you eyes are completely two different things."

you're sick of your asshat of a girlfriend at this point, so you flip your body on to your back, making sure to huff to make your annoyance known; but not flipping over to lay on your other side because you're not that annoyed just yet. your actions cause chloe to fully shift into bed next to you on her side, propping her head on her hand as she stares at your "resting" figure. a nimble fingers coming to trace along the indents on your face caused from the pillow, the corner of her lips twitching upward; she wants to tease you for it, for sleeping so well in her bed, but she lets the warm content pool fill in her stomach that you feel safe enough with her to sleep this well in her bed.

a beat passes, and chloe's fingertips stay tracing along your features with a featherlight touch; around the perimeter of your face, over your eyebrows, down to your eyes and under them to swish pass your eyelashes and trace circles around your cheeks, up your nose and down its bridge, and to your lips where she payed extra attention to the shape of them, she knew them well. and she wanted to kiss them, kiss you, but decided against it, for now.

chloe's hand settles on your stomach. you don't know what compels you to flip into your original position, her warm hand following your shifts to lay on the small of your back, pushing your body closer to hers. you finally, and fully open your eyes, meeting chloe's, the blueness of her eyes still striking yet soft, like a watercolor painting. the hand on your back keeps pulling as close as humanly possible till your legs are intertwined.

you don't bother to prop your head on your hand like chloe, much preferring the comfort of your head against the pillow and not the potential ache of your wrist. "how long was i out for?" voice quiet and laced with a twinge of embarrassment, whisper like and preserved only for chloe to hear.

she twist her lips up, looking up towards the ceiling for a moment before her gaze settles back on you. "for a couple hours. it's gonna get dark soon, so if you still want to go out somewhere we can leave now." the hand on your back has now found its way beneath your shirt, the fabric bunched up just a bit to expose some of your stomach and the glimpse of chloe's hand and wrist, her thumb smoothing at your waist.

now it's your turn to momentarily think, embarrassment rushing back through your veins. embarrassed because you've lost the imaginary battle with chloe's bed, again, and embarrassed that also spoiled the plans the two of you had. "do you still want to do go out?" making her question whether you wanted to still do the activities planned up to her, it's only fair in your head. although, you know she doesn't care either way.

the soft glow of the sun setting illuminates chloe's features. and it's at this time that you realize her signature beanie doesn't reside on top of her head, you take this win and reach up to comb through her short locks with your fingers, pushing hair behind her head and her side band out of her face; she hates when you do it, but she doesn't do much to retaliate besides the spew of words she'd say, your just like to see her more, all of her. "not really," now it's her turn to be lulled, being tempted by the mistress of sleep. her eyes fluttering shut, savoring your touch, eyebrows knitting together, her face strained yet still calm; she remembers, engraves even, the feeling of your touch, your skin on hers, you, into her mind, just incase you slip through her fingers like liquid and all she has is the vibrant memories of you. "i picked up that movie you wanted to see. we could watch it?"

your lips curl into a smile. only chloe could make you annoyed one moment then the next make you want to smoother her in kisses. "that sounds nice." you agree, taking a piece of her hair and twirling it around your index finger. the blue suits her well, a little too well, but your mind often drifts to if scenarios of chloe's hair; if she decides to let her hair grow out ever again, if she lets the blue fade and eventually chop it off, if she randomly gets bored of it and decides to bleach and dye it another color. you don't care what she does her hair, you know she'll look hot with anything, you just hope you're there to see the changes.

in a swift movement chloe grasp onto your wrist, freeing the hair wrapped around your finger as she tugs slightly at you, she wants you up just as she is. and with a huff you prop yourself up on your arm angled behind your back, face to face with chloe. her hand drags down from your wrist to just above your elbow, pulling you close again till the tips of your noses meet. only then does open her eyes. "promise you won't fall asleep."

you groan, rolling your eyes. "i don't chose to fall asleep. the bed, your bed, it casts some kind of sleep spell on me." you argue with sincerity. chloe doesn't buy it, her eyes squinting and an eyebrow shooting up; she's not convinced.

this time she doesn't pull you into her. but instead she uses the grasp still on your arm to push it into the mattress, giving her enough leverage to slot a knee between your legs and hover above you, leaning down. "then i guess you better fight it off, 'cause the next time you fall asleep i'm waking you up with tickles." you bite back your growing smile and the bark of a smart remark that you'd much prefer to woken up another way.

[mcflymemes]

NOSFERATU PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the screenplay, adjust as necessary

i have felt you like a serpent crawling in my body.

love is inferior to you.

i am an appetite. nothing more.

you are my affliction.

even now we are fated.

you know nothing of him.

your passion is bound to me.

you cannot love.

i cannot be sated without you.

we must remain calm.

you know i love you both.

why do you hate me?

you have never liked me.

search everything.

this is madness!

i must see them!

don't touch me. i am not to be touched.

our love was supposed to be sacred.

kiss me.

i need no salvation.

you will put an end to all of this?

come to me.

hear my call.

you are not for the living.

do you swear it?

what's that, my love?

there is nothing to be afraid of.

take off your shoes.

i wish i could stay, my love.

i really must be off.

come in, come in.

i thank you for considering me.

you are too generous.

it will be a great adventure for you.

why have you killed these beautiful flowers?

let us put them in water.

forgive me.

throw them out.

you cannot leave.

i must tell you my dream.

please, no more of your childhood memories.

never speak these things aloud.

it is a foolish dream.

everything is well.

when i return, i will finally make something of myself.

i love you too much.

it's worth celebrating your adventure!

i envy you.

it's crushing, [name]. crushing.

i cannot resist her.

not another word.

do take care of [name].

there is a monster in the room.

we have each other.

you're hurting me.

i am proud of you.

please keep safe.

have you so little faith in me?

i promise.

remember, it's all for us.

you bring trouble with you.

i only wish to stay one night.

i have an audience at the castle.

leave here.

you are late.

i wish you to do as i request.

it's nothing.

come by the fire.

why ever did you bring that here?

you must put that away.

what might we do for you?

that was yesterday.

do you ever feel at times as if you were not a person?

we all feel out of sorts.

look at the sea!

i am not mad.

forgive me. everything i say sounds so childish.

how careless of me.

you are fortunate in your love.

i fear i am taken ill.

if it continues, let me know.

i have received nothing of any kind.

still no trace of him.

for heaven's sake, you cannot leave.

a moment longer... please.

i cannot resist you, my love.

can you tell me your name?

he is coming.

why haven't you told me?

i must leave!

i sensed something.

you look tired.

would you describe them to me?

tell me what you can. from the beginning.

this is no delusion.

the blood is the life.

i feared i'd never see you again.

what the devil is this?

it is past three o'clock in the morning!

forgive me for the troubles i have caused you.

get off me. give me room. i can't breathe.

you frightened me.

may i stay with you tonight?

thank you for loving me.

our spirits are one, so too shall be our flesh.

you are mine.

[kingkat12]

hurt people hurt people (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, ANGST, throwing up, gore, jealousy schemes, Roman calling people uncouth mongoloids which is literally the same as in the book lol, and major risk of emotional damage (I warned you)

summary: this night would turn out to be the worst of your life-- of our lives. I hope you don't mind that I'm talking to you directly this time?

word count: 11,273

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seven minutes in heaven masterlist

a/n: this is absolutely insane to me... I cannot believe I've FINISHED WRITING A BOOK?? thank you all SO so so much for being a part of this wild ride and for supporting my work, I couldn't have gotten here without all the love and all the comments, I couldn't have gotten this far without you all; therefore, I'm so so excited to give you the ultimate gift-- the last chapter of seven minutes in heaven!! ENJOY!!<333

... Alright.

We've gotten this far. It's Friday, and I need to give Roman an answer, so I'll be quick; after all the shit that has gone down these past months, after everything I've brought you along with me for, I only have one question for you...

Have you understood it yet?

Have you really?

I could sit on Jasmine's front porch for hours and tell you the story of Roman Godfrey over and over, but nothing would ever change. You'd still love him, you'd still ache for him, just as I've done since the moment I saw him. We're in the same boat, after all-- you and I.

Oh, and speaking of Jasmine; her party was the best I had attended in years. Catch the irony? The bass from the music inside thudded through the floor of the porch, vibrating up through my shoes, through my bones, syncing with the frantic rhythm of my heart, and I was therefore glad to be outside now; the ceilings had felt too low, the walls too close, and the crowd swelled like a living, breathing thing-- loud, erratic, suffocating. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.

But out on the porch, right now, I could. Even when I thought about the fact that one week had passed, that I was supposed to have an answer for Roman regarding whether we could get together again or not, I could at least breathe. 

I let out a sharp laugh for no one but myself, clutching the bottle of rosé I had managed to steal from my parents' cupboard. It was almost empty now, which was a first for me; I wasn't the biggest drinker, initially. Or was I? I couldn't make up my mind. 

Being drunk, alone, and vulnerable at a party wasn't the smartest thing I could be doing, I know. As if she would magically appear, I swayed a little where I sat on the porch step glancing around for Letha-- I remember her smiling at me when we walked in together, but... wait, had she actually? Maybe she hadn't? Maybe that was someone else? Or maybe I just wanted her to smile, so I made it up? You'd believe me, wouldn't you? You'd have no choice but to. 

You have no choice but to see what's gonna unfold tonight through my eyes, actually. And maybe I'm finally talking directly to you because I can't deal with it all alone?

... Don't click away just yet, please. 

Stay, just a little longer.

Yes, you.

I made sure to drink the last few drops left of my rosé before saying bye to the quietness of Jasmine's front porch. My steps were heavy as I dragged my feet back into the house, yet the soundwave that hit me when I opened the door nearly knocked me to the ground nonetheless-- it didn't take long before my head started pounding to the beat of the music again.

All I knew, was that I needed to look busy. I needed to not stay too long in one place, just in case I'd run into people I didn't want to run into; I was still a bit scarred from my hellish prom-night, where I hadn't managed to get away from Daniel when he dragged me down the hall. However, he wasn't here tonight, so my biggest evasions were Letha and Roman. Sometimes, you just have to be drunk and miserable in peace, no?

Instinctively, I toyed with the vial of Roman's blood around my neck for comfort, letting the chain slip through my fingers; I had missed the weight of it. Missed the feeling of having him so close to my heart. I twisted it in the light-- red, gleaming, sharp. It had felt right to wear it tonight, and I thought it would serve as a comfort (and it did), but at the end of it all, I was still at a party I didn't want to be at.

The music was too loud. The lights were too bright. Everything moved too fast, or maybe too slow?-- I couldn't tell. I wasn't even sure of anything anymore, except that this place smelled like beer and sweat and smoke, and I put away my rosé on a nearby table and switched it with an unopened cider a bit further away. As long as no one caught me stealing, I could get away with it, right? Now that I was at it, I also grabbed the jacket closest to me hanging on the rack in the hallway, wrapping it around me despite it not being mine-- the weight of it nearly made it stumble, yet I persisted.

The cider was cold in my hand, and shockingly so. Nonetheless, I slipped it into the pocket of my jacket as I choked back a drunk hiccup-- it was only when a couple stumbled past me, bumping into me rather harshly, that I realized I had to get away from the main event of the party, which was downstairs.

I felt so dead. So, so dead. My body was simply dead weight-- dead, dead, dead. Broken. I couldn't handle this feeling, so I climbed the stairs, clutching the banister like it was the only thing anchoring me to this earth. My legs felt heavy, but my brain felt heavier, and every step echoed through my skull. Thud. Thud. Thud. I stopped halfway up because-- I don't know? I forgot why I was going up in the first place. There was an empty spot at the top of the stairs, a place where the purple lights didn't reach, where the music was muffled, where I could pretend for a second that I wasn't completely falling apart. So I slumped down, pulling the jacket tighter around me as if it could protect me from the cold that had nothing to do with the air.

And that's when I felt it-- the pack of cigarettes in the pocket. 

Not mine. 

Roman's.

It took me a good few seconds before I realized I had picked his jacket out of all the people that had put them away on the rack, and I could only groan. Suppressing another hiccup, my fingers brushed against the familiar cardboard, the worn edges, and the faint scent of cinnamon that clung to the paper. With some further rummaging in the pockets, I found his blood-red lighter, yet the back of it felt rougher than before; I had held it out for him several times, you see.

I flipped it, holding my breath--

Only to realize that Roman had carved our initials into the back of it.

After all the times he had made fun of me for doing that exact thing to a tree a while back, I could only huff at the irony as some people stepped over my body to get up the stairs. The thumping of my head only worsened, because honestly? In this state? It felt like an invitation. Roman could've literally carved I-know-you-stole-my-jacket-so-take-a-smoke-you-pretty-little-fucker, and it would've been the same thing. Or did the carvings make it more private? Should I maybe not be touching this at all?

... Fuck it.

I took one out, hands trembling like a damn idiot, and lit it. The flame flickered, tiny and fragile, and I stared at it like I was seeing fire for the first time.

Then, I inhaled--

And holy fucking shit, you wouldn't believe how awful it was. Sharp and spicy and bitter, and it clawed at my throat like it wanted to kill me. Maybe that's what Roman secretly wanted? To kill me with these fucking cigarettes? I coughed, choking on the smoke, but I didn't stop. I took another drag, then another, until my head was spinning and my chest felt tight, and I didn't care. I wanted to feel it-- the pain of it all. I wanted it to be physical, wanted it to kill me. I wanted it to set my lungs ablaze, and I wanted it to burn me up from the inside with slow and tortuous flames.

Pained, I sat there, legs pulled up against my chest, with the cigarette between my fingers like it belonged there, and I let the smoke sting my eyes, sting my lungs. Over and over, I told myself it was just the smoke that made me want to cry... nothing else. 

And then, of course, of fucking course, I saw him.

Appearing into the hallway with a careless laugh, I watched Roman through the banister of the stairs, standing there like some kind of vision, like the universe just wanted to punish me for giving in to a sinful cigarette. He hadn't seen me-- not yet. But I couldn't take my eyes off him, couldn't stop the way my heart leapt and sank all at once. He looked beautiful. Terrible. The kind of beauty that ruins you. Dark hair, unruly shirt, his eyes flickering with something I couldn't read from across the room; and then I saw who he was with. 

Jessica was there, breathlessly clinging to Roman. My Roman. It was clear that she revelled in the arm he had lazily draped over her shoulders, and she giggled as her hand clutched at his shirt like he was the best thing that had ever happened to her, like she was blessed to be getting even a sliver of his attention. 

But Roman wasn't looking at her, not really.

No-- he was scanning the room like he was waiting for something, someone.

And when his eyes found mine, everything stilled. The music, the voices, the haze of smoke and bodies; all of it faded when our eyes locked.

I froze on the stairs, the cigarette hanging between my fingers-- I inhaled, slow and deep, trying not to fall apart, and exhaled like it could push him out of my system as I refused to look away.

But Roman didn't move. Not yet.

It was subtle-- the way his mouth curved, not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. For a second, I thought he was proud to see me smoking, finally, until the glint in his eyes turned sharp, predatory. He glanced at Jessica like he had forgotten she was there, and in that split second, I knew.

And you know what's gonna happen now, too, don't you?

Roman shifted, turning toward her, and his hand came up-- fingertips tracing her jaw, slow, almost lazy, just like he used to touch me. Jessica leaned in, her eyes fluttering closed, hungry for him, oblivious to who, what, she was keening against. 

And then he kissed her, right there, right in front of me.

Deeply. Lovingly.

Roman's plush lips moved against hers, his hand tangled in her hair, and the sight of it was absolutely brutal-- it was the kind of kiss meant to calm someone, to soothe them, to show them you love them, and it was exactly how he used to kiss me. The sight of it nearly made me throw myself down the stairs, my body aching with the pain and betrayal of it all, but the kiss wasn't about her; it would never be about her.

Because the whole time, Roman's eyes stayed locked on me.

I couldn't look away, not when he commanded my attention in this way. He kissed her like he was punishing me, like this was the type of psychological warfare-discipline I needed to properly understand that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. And all I could do was sit there like the pathetic fucking loser I was, the cigarette burning down to the filter, smoke stinging my eyes, my throat, my heart. I felt myself grab at the vial of his blood tucked away under my shirt; I couldn't look away, but I couldn't stand to watch it, because I wasn't just watching him destroy me-- I was letting him.

When Roman finally pulled back (after a millennia passed, surely), Jessica looked dazed, like she'd just realized she was the luckiest girl in the world, her lips swollen and red. But Roman didn't even glance at her-- his thumb brushed his own bottom lip, that wicked smirk carved into his face, and he stared at me like he knew exactly what he had done.

He wanted me broken-- broken enough to come running right back. 

But I wasn't going to break this quickly.

It took everything that I had in me to get up, yet I somehow managed. With a shaky breath, and with my heart actively falling apart, I slid up along the wall for support, hoping I wouldn't fall right down the stairs-- I wasn't exactly making it easier for myself, because I was simultaneously throwing away my used cigarette and lighting a new one. 

Wrapping myself further up in Roman's jacket, I let the cigarette hang loosely from my lip as I hoisted my arm up to raise my middle finger at him.

Roman chuckled, clearly having expected it, before responding with draping his arms around Jessica, cupping her face as she continued talking up at him, oblivious that he was having a stare-off with me. Roman dragged his fingers through her golden locks like he loved her above anyone else in the world, urging me to come down and fight for his attention, for him, for us--

But God, he was insufferable. I could see it all the way from here; he was mouthing come on.

Come here. 

I know you want to.

... And I really wanted to, believe me. 

But instead, I snorted, rolled my eyes, and shook my head-- and this turned out to be one of the worst ideas of the night. Shaking my head in this state, full of nicotine and rosé, was certainly not one of my brightest moments. With quick steps, I turned around on my heel and marched up the stairs, away from Roman and his fucked up antics as the back of my throat filled with acid. I couldn't throw up on the stairs, now, could I?

The first bathroom I found ended up being occupied, hence why I stormed into the kitchen on the second floor-- how massive was this house? I had never seen a kitchen on any floor but the first. In retaliation of what Jasmine had done to me earlier this year, I stumped my new cigarette on the wall and dragged it along the tapestry, wasting it. My thoughts were racing with how infuriating Jasmine's stupid house was, and how pissed she'd be when she saw how I had trashed her wall, but I pushed my way to the sink, hunching over it just in case I was about to barf up my whole left lung.

The kitchen was loud, hot, too hot, and filled with the thump of the party music bleeding in from the living room. It pounded through the walls, muffled the laughter around me, and people shouting over the music blended into a hum that made my temples ache-- I was two seconds away from bursting into tears.

Thankfully, my only source of comfort appeared behind me with a soothing hand on my back, reaching for my hair as I leaned over the sink; Letha. Her touch gave me a major deja vu from the night Roman and I first kissed, when she had held my hair back when I felt sick.

Roman and I-- kissing.

Roman... kissing.

Roman kissing Jessica.

I let myself gag at the memory as tears welled in my eyes. "There, there," Letha cooed, bending down to catch the look on my face. I wondered whether she smelled the cigarettes on me, or whether she had noticed the fact that I was wearing Roman's jacket. "What's got you like this, hm? You just disappeared, and now..." She leaned in, sniffing me. "Girl, you smell like a bombed whorehouse! Who have you been hanging around? Jack?"

The memory of Jack Edwards almost made me laugh-- I caught myself, fighting back the acid in my throat as I made sure the vial of Roman's blood was safely tucked beneath my shirt and out of Letha's sight. "I drank the whole bottle of rosé," I confessed.

"What? You had barely touched it the last time I saw you, how on earth did you manage?" Letha's laugh was teasing, her voice laced with that soft concern she always wore like perfume. Heavy. Suffocating. I wondered whether this was how it felt like to live in East Germany after the Second World War-- watched.

"I don't know," I muttered, placing my hand over the vial again. If I really focused, I could imagine that it was beating, like Roman's caged blood was still pumping to his heart. "I don't feel good."

Letha hummed, patting my back over and over. "You can take it just a little more, though, right...? I told Jack you felt bad about what happened on the bleachers the other day, and he still wants to have a chat with you!--"

"No!" I sucked in a sharp breath, gagging on the vomit threatening its way up my throat. Grabbing the counter to steady myself, I rocked back and forth to keep myself grounded.

Yet Letha pressed on as she pushed people away from the sink; this party was way too damn crowded. "But Jack could be the perfect distraction for you!" she insisted. "He's cute, he's kind, he's nothing like Roman, he's!--"

"I said no!" Jack hadn't told Letha that Roman and I had fucked; that was all that mattered to me. Nonetheless, I somehow managed to not throw up when I straightened up, taking deep breaths as I turned to her. "You're really fucking insistent, do you know that?"

Letha raised an eyebrow, setting her drink down with a soft clink. "Christ, what's wrong now?"

I didn't answer right away, hoping my offence would sift through my fingers. The question hung heavy and loaded in the air, too simple, too dismissive. The noise of the party pressed in from all sides, but here, with her, it felt like we were in a vacuum, the tension building by the second, and just for a moment, I had the oddest thought-- Letha would've been a good KGB agent. Her interrogation techniques could be polished, sure, but somewhere in that blonde girl was an intense, manipulative Russian. 

... God, I was way too drunk.

With a sigh, I leaned back over the sink, trying to keep myself steady. "Guess I'm just tired, Letha--"

"Tired from what, smoking?" Letha tilted her head, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I can smell it on you, y'know? You smell like a Godfrey. Is this about Roman again?"

Something about her tone set my teeth on edge. I didn't answer, but my silence said enough; I was afraid I'd start barking if I opened my mouth.

"Are we really going back to this?" Letha huffed, softly, like she was doing me a favour, like she hadn't been the one dragging knives across my heart for weeks. "How many times do I have to tell you that you need to start taking active steps to get over him? It's like you never listen! My words go in one ear and out the other!"

I felt the first sparks of anger flare in my chest, hot and sudden; "You've told me a lot of things,"

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

"It means," I hissed, gripping the counter so hard my knuckles were going white. "That I don't think you've ever really been honest with me. Not about him, not about anything."

Letha let out an offended laugh before her smile vanished-- the look on my face was unmistakeable, and it set her off. "I've always been honest with you, unlike what you have been with me!"

"Bullshit. Do you really not get it, or are you just pretending as always?"

Her brows knit together; "Pretending?"

"Yeah, pretending. Like how you pretended to support me, to be my friend, to have my back? I've let you do this for weeks!" My chest tightened, each word tumbling out sharper than the last. "God, Letha, you reacted like I murdered someone when I told you about Roman and I! I was honest with you, I fessed up, and you basically spat in my face!"

Every inch of Letha seemed to tighten. "You're drunk," she said through gritted teeth. "Calm down, please, before you throw up all over yourself!--"

"Oh, fuck you,"

"... What?!"

I had to suppress a grin; I had waited too long to say that. 

Letha's mouth opened slightly, stunned. She glanced around the party, making sure no one was catching the verbal beating she was taking-- I knew she'd care if someone noticed. She'd care a lot. "You know why I reacted the way I did!" she hissed, lowering her voice as she got closer to my face. "He's been getting with my friends for ages, and you were getting yourself into something dangerous!--"

"No!" I cut her off, voice rising along with my nausea. "No, I told you about it because I trusted you! I didn't lie, I came clean to you, and fucking hell, Jesus treated Judas better than you treated me!--" 

My yelling, along with the mix of rosé and cigarettes, finally pushed my body over the edge. Gagging, I threw myself over the sink to finally throw up; "O-Oh, fuck!--" The concoction that left me was beyond anything I had ever secreted. All my pain, all my anger, balled up into whatever the fuck it was that left my mouth. 

Immediately, Letha's hands flew to my hair, holding it back as I threw up in Jasmine's sink. Despite our fight, despite the verbal abuse, she was still making sure I was alright-- it made my heart ache. Everything about this night was tearing at my heart, actually; images of Roman kissing Jessica flashed before my eyes as my body burned. Was I maybe about to have a heart attack? I was surely susceptible of one.

As I cried into the sink, sobbing with pain, Letha traced soothing patterns into my back, hushing me gently. "Shh... You'll be alright," she tried. "I know it feels like your world is ending, but you'll be alright. Someday, you won't even remember this."

My chest felt like it was caving in on itself. How could I ever forget any of this? How could I ever forget Roman?

"I'm sorry if I've been a bad friend," Letha continued, carefully stroking through my hair. "I hope you can forgive me... and I hope that we can someday forgive each other. Because at the end of all of this, through it all, all I ever wanted was for us to be friends again, and... for me to have someone in my court if everything goes down." Her words were small, fragile; "I just wanted my friend back."

I garnered the strength to look back at Letha, heart pounding, and before I could think it through, my drunken confession came tumbling out; "I slept with him,"

Letha's eyes rounded out as she slowly let go of my hair. "What?" she breathed.

"Yeah," My words were quiet as I pulled my shirt down to expose the hickey on the peak of my shoulder. "On the library floor, a week ago." I was sure she could spot the outline of the vial around my neck as I adjusted the jacket draped around me-- I could see in Letha's eyes that everything in her mind was actively falling apart.

And therefore, I delivered the final blow; "Can you forgive me now? Truly, Letha?"

The silence between us that followed was crushing, all-taking. It felt like I had been sucked into a plastic bag, with the air being drained with me stuck inside of it. Letha's lips parted, ready to speak, yet I saw that she couldn't find the right words to say.

But what followed would flip the narrative completely. 

"Yeah... I can," 

My face ticked, and I felt my eye twitch as my words left me with my next breath; "What?" The music pounded through the walls, bass-heavy and relentless. Voices swelled, laughter spiked, but here, in the dim glow of the kitchen, everything felt suffocatingly small. My stomach was still twisting, nausea rolling in waves as I clutched the counter-- what was happening?

Letha's breath was unsteady, but when she spoke again, her voice was calm and unshaken. "I can forgive you," she repeated, like she was offering me the grandest admission of mercy.

I blinked at her, the words catching somewhere in my throat.

With a sigh, Letha brushed nonexistent dust off her dress before smoothing down her hair. "Because that's what friends do. We forgive, even when it hurts... And you're my best friend, so this time, I forgive you," 

Somewhere behind us, someone let out a shriek of laughter, bottles clinking in celebration. My head was spinning, my stomach churning from more than just the alcohol-- this felt wrong. Was this really happening?

Letha tilted her head slightly, watching me struggle. "I'm not going to pretend this doesn't hurt," she admitted, voice barely audible over the chaos outside the kitchen. "But I mean it. I just want you to be okay, and it's okay to... slip up, I guess. You're human, unlike a big part of him." She took a step back, giving me space-- she was the gracious one here, as always. "Because that's what friends do, right?" Her lips curved, not quite a smile. "We forgive. We put each other first."

The weight of her words settled in my chest in the most unpleasant way possible. "I'm supposed to tell him whether I want to give us another chance," I confessed. "Like... tonight. Right now."

Letha's hand found my back again, fingers light. I was scared she'd get mad, that she'd start cussing me out, but alas... nothing. "Okay, I see," she said, softer now. "I know you love him, but love doesn't change what he is. It doesn't change what he could do to you. Keep that in mind when you make your decision."

I swallowed hard, nausea curling tight inside me. Did I know? Did I really? My grip tightened around the counter; was I getting swayed?

Letha shook her head, her brows knitting together, like she hated to be the one saying this; "You don't have to prove anything. Not to him, not to me. You just... have to do what's right," She sighed, giving me one last careful look. "And I hope you know that I'll be here for you, no matter what."

... Fuck.

Roman's pack of cigarettes felt heavy in my pocket again, and I hated it. Hated the blood-red lighter in the other, next to the cold cider. Hated the way he had carved our initials into it like some twisted promise. But fate had a tight, deadly grip around me that I couldn't get out of-- I somehow managed to wry myself away from Letha and the kitchen with a red solo cup filled with water, downing it as I made my way down the stairs. 

It was time to give Roman an answer-- the answer I didn't want to give him, the one I never thought I'd give him.

I shoved my way down through the crowd with my heart thumping in my chest. Was I gonna find Roman with Jessica? This was giving me an intense case of deja vu from all the times I had actually seen him with other girls, before we ever started dating. Was I gonna catch him making out with Jessica somewhere, even after he had sent me that excruciatingly long voice mail where he could only profess his love for me over and over?

But that wasn't love.

Him kissing Jessica in front of me like that-- that couldn't be love. 

Letha had been right all along, hadn't she?

I pushed through the people dancing in the living room downstairs, trying to ignore the laughter and the small talk that surrounded me. It felt like a different world, one that had nothing to do with me right now. I was desperate for a moment of clarity, and the only person who could give me that was Roman... yet I didn't dare to find him. I didn't want to see him with Jessica. I couldn't bare the sight of it.

I shoved open the back door to the yard, and cold night air hit me like a slap. I welcomed it. The darkness out there was different from the party lights. It was real. Still. Empty.

I wasn't alone for long; I heard footsteps behind me, and the soft, deliberate crunching against the floor of the porch quickly become unmistakeable. The door closed shut as I leaned against the wood structure leading to the garden-- I knew who this was. Letting out a sigh, I reached for the cider in my pocket, cracking it open with a hiss despite knowing I shouldn't have any more drinks tonight. 

The first sip was sharp, bitter, but it cut through the lump in my throat I got from knowing Roman was here with me, alone. I let my eyes follow him when he walked into sight, leaning against the wooden frame opposite me with that Godfrey nonchalance I was used to from him. His shirt had been tucked back in, his hair had been combed back into place-- something told me he had prepared to corner me since he watched me leave with his jacket. 

Roman's eyes were so mesmerizing, so green. It was the most beautiful shade of green. It was such a shame to see them glossed over by that searching look in them, the exact look that gave away his hidden anxiety. Finally, he spoke, nodding to my drink with his usual charm; "I don't think you should be having more of those," 

It only made me clutch the cider harder, steading my footing on the porch so that I wouldn't tumble into the grass to my side. "Fuck off,"

"Oh, yeah? You wanna go there?"

"Yeah," After seeing him kissing Jessica like that? Sure. 

Roman rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw to stop himself from arguing back right away. He looked so strict like this-- it was painfully arousing. He plucked the bottle from my grasp with ease, lifting it to his lips as if daring me to stop him; his smirk widened when I didn't.

Forfeiting my cider allowed me to dip my hand back into my pocket and fish out the lighter and the cigarettes. Roman's eyes widened as he watched me put two cigarettes in my mouth, about to light them both, before he snatched one of them from between my lips; "Careful, there," he said, throwing it away somewhere. "Don't get too excited. You'll go into nicotine shock."

"Don't care," I lit the one I had left, but not without glaring at him properly. "I already threw up tonight."

"You did?"

"Yeah,"

"Oh, you fragile thing," he cooed, amused. "You're going to ruin yourself like this."

I bet that some part of him would've loved to see that. I snorted; "Don't care," 

Roman's brows drew together when he realized I was completely serious, when he saw that my empty look wasn't wavering. "Yeah... I got that," He mumbled, shaking his head. "Jeez, you're dramatic tonight."

I let the silence stretch as I simply glared at him; if he thought this was me at my most dramatic, then he didn't know me at all.

Roman watched me, waiting for me to argue, to snap at him, to give him something to work with. When I didn't, his smirk faltered and his voice softened; "What is this, then, hm? You trying to prove a point?"

I inhaled deeply. "Nah, that's your way of doing this," The smoke burned, stung my throat, but I needed it, needed something to hold onto as my pulse pounded against my ribs; it made my pain about his kiss with Jessica physical. I needed it to be, so my brain wouldn't fry itself.

Roman sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Listen, I get it, alright? You're mad about Jessica. You wanna play hard to get, fine. But let's cut the bullshit, cause you're not going anywhere," He said it like it was a fact, like it was already decided-- "Not really."

He was so sure of it.

So sure of us.

I couldn't look at him anymore. I couldn't watch Roman fall apart all over again when he would realize what I had chosen, not when I was still so irrevocably angry with him. My gaze fell to the floor as I remained silent, waiting for it to dawn on him. 

Roman's smirk wavered in the cold night air. He searched my face, waiting for the usual pattern-- for me to scoff, roll my eyes, shove him and say something biting but not final.

... I did none of those things.

His fingers twitched with nervous anticipation. "You're mad," he said, slower this time. "Say something. Humour me, yeah? Pretend that you actually love me, just for a second."

"Fuck you,"

"Baby, come on—"

"Don't say I don't love you. If I didn't, I wouldn't be standing here after you pulled that crap with Jessica just now! If I didn't love you, I would be inside running around to find Jack,"

Roman's green eyes widened— was it the shock of the threat, or the fact that he had made that threat a reality he had to fear? The party seemed so far away, and our life together felt even further away than that. "I'm sorry about Jessica," he breathed. "You know it's nothing personal, you know I can't stand her guts. I just thought you'd... I thought it would be good to show you what life's gonna be like if we don't end up together."

I almost chuckled-- did he really think that was a good plan? Did he really think that'd work? My eyes darted to the cigarette between my fingers while I wondered whether or not to torture myself with another drag. "You wanted to show me that you'll go back to sleeping with the cheerleaders while I become a chain-smoker?" I snarked. "Sounds like a wet dream of yours."

"That's not what I meant!—"

"What did you mean, then?!"

"I don't!— I don't want to keep talking about this!" Roman flailed his arms, frustrated; "It's not relevant, because we're not going to be apart, and because we're going to my place later and!-- and you're going to fall asleep next to me again, and your hair will be all over my pillow in the morning, and we're going to be okay!"

Oh, how I wanted us to be.

But the way he described it made me realize he might've not fully developed his consequential thinking. Did he really think that was a realistic end of this night after what he had done?

I felt tongue-tied by my shock, frozen like an icicle to Jasmine's stupid porch. What he had just described, was all I wanted. I wanted to go to Roman's place later, wanted to feel his arm around me as he pulled me closer in his slumber, and I wanted to lie around in bed while fighting sleep to get a few more minutes with him. Swallowing hard, I did my best to waft away the memories flashing before me, yet I soon realized it was an impossible task. 

Roman's eyes rounded out with his next breath, his heart visibly breaking--

"Cause... you're choosing us, right?"

My mouth repeatedly opened and closed, stuck. How could I, after everything?

Meanwhile Roman's gaze flickered over my mine, searching for some confirmation, some reassurance that I was just being difficult, that I was still his-- it was a heartbreaking sight. It only made me grip the cigarette tighter, feeling the heat against my fingers. It was dying out, just as I was, just as we were.

Something cracked in Roman's expression. "You're serious," he breathed.

It broke me to realize that I was. 

This had to end.

It had to.

Roman's face hardened as he took a step closer. The air between us thickened, turning heavy with something more than just tension-- something sharp, something raw. "You're seriously doing this?" he muttered, the disbelief in his tone prevailing. "After everything? After all of this time, you just-- we're done? Like that?"

My throat was too tight, and all the words got trapped inside. In a way, it felt like I was choking on everything said and unsaid.

Roman's hands were clenched, and the tension in his shoulders made him seem even taller, more imposing. A part of me was scared he'd pounce, that he'd be overcome by whatever upir instincts he had beneath his pretty appearance-- I didn't want to think about it. I was afraid I'd scream and run away if I did. To distract myself, I put my cigarette out on the ledge nearby; I didn't care about the state of Jasmine's house.

I wasn't sure whether my quiet motions read as nonchalance, but it seemed to shove Roman closer to the edge. "You're pushing me away, even after all my fucking reassurance? Even after your voicemail? I gave you everything, I showed you that I'm nothing to be scared of, and you're just... walking away like I'm nothing, over some kiss? Did you ever even love me?"

That question knocked the air out of me. "Some kiss?!"

"Yes!"

"Roman you've— you've proven yourself to be exactly who I feared you'd be all along!" I yelled. "Someone who hurts me!"

Desperate, Roman grabbed my arm, his grip tight, but not enough to hurt. His eyes searched mine, pleading-- "Come on," he begged, his voice shaking now. "I love you. I really fucking love you."

"No! Because you if truly did love me, you wouldn't be hurting me as a means to get back together with me! You're a child!" I snapped, finally giving in to my frustrations. Drunkenly trying to wry myself out of his grip, I felt my tears burn in my eyes, blurring my vision. "This has to end! You and I, it has to end! Letha's right, you will always want to fuck the cheerleaders, and you will always be a upir, and that will never change!--"

My breath stopped in my chest-- fuck. 

Letha.

It was the first time I had verbally confirmed it, and I knew I had shot myself in the foot with it.

The name hung in the air like poison, and Roman looked like he'd been gutted by it.

He stared at me for a long, horrible moment, his eyes wide with disbelief. His grip loosened around my wrist; "You--" he started, his voice hoarse. "You're... serious? So that's it? You're throwing us away because of her? Because of the shit she's been feeding you to take revenge on me?!"

"It's not all because of her, Roman, but she's right! Letha is right that you'll always be dangerous, that you'll always have some underlying urges, and that you'll never be safe to be around!" My voice cracked as I said it; there it was, a cold, harsh truth I couldn't ignore anymore. "You said you'd never hurt me, but you're like a ticking fucking bomb in more aspects than I can count on my fingers!"

That was it; Roman snapped, his fist slamming into the wooden structure I was leaning against with a deafening crack, making it shake. "Bullshit!"  

The boom of it made me flinch and squeak in terror, and instinctively, my hands shot out to push him away, shoving him with all the strength I could muster in my panicked state. "You're scaring me again!" I yelled, heaving for air. "Stop it! I beg you, just stop it!"

Stunned by his own outburst and its consequence, Roman allowed me to push him. He could've planted himself to his spot, could've resisted with no problem, but he took a step back for my comfort.

My heart was pounded against my ribs as tears filled my eyes. I couldn't have him barging at me like that, not when I was this hurt, scared, and drunk. A man that truly loved me wouldn't be doing this, right? My legs shook with the remnants of the heaviness of the conversation, and I heaved for air with terrified gasps as I decided to turn on my heel.

Immediately, Roman went into action-- "Wait, please!" His voice instinctively softened as he rummaged through his brain for the best course of action. "I'm sorry, okay?! I just don't want to lose you, I'm freaking out here!" He reached out for me, but it was too late. 

I was already backing away, not looking back, not waiting for any more apologies— I knew I wouldn't believe them anymore. 

Even the heaviness of Roman's jacket couldn't slow me down, not when I was this desperate to get away from my terrifying breakup-- the sound of music and chatter met me when I opened the door back to the house, but the pounding of my heart nearly drowned it all out. 

Roman's voice followed me inside, each word an attempt to reel me back, but I wasn't turning around. I couldn't look at him; I couldn't do that to myself.

"Come on!" he yelled through the deafening noise. "Are we really doing this again?!"

I made my way through the living room, not looking for anything but an escape. The staircase loomed ahead, and without thinking, I shot up the stairs, taking them two at a time as my legs shook with adrenaline and fear. The air in the house felt suffocating now, the walls closing in as I reached the top of the stairs and darted down the hallway. This was not happening. This was not happening. I was too drunk for this-- were the walls actually moving? The more I looked at them, the more I had a feeling they were pulsing, inching closer to squeeze me to death.

Speaking of death-- Roman's footsteps grew closer, and his voice got louder; "Please, we can fix this! Just hear me out, please!—"

With my heart hammering in my chest, I glanced back to calculate how long I had until he caught up to me. Panicked, I grabbed at every room in the hallway, pushing past the people blocking my way as I desperately suppressed my tears from running down my cheeks.

This was not happening. 

This was not happening.

Roman dragged a hand through his hair, angry, desperate, as his long footsteps allowed him to chase me down with ease. "You're making a mistake!" he pleaded. "Let's talk it out, okay? Please, please, just listen, I love you, I'll calm down, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise!--"

With a scared squeak, I finally managed to force a door open; thank fuck. But before I could even step fully into the room, Roman's leg shot forward, forcing the door back, and in an instant, I realized there was no way I could keep him out-- I stumbled backward, eyes wide and frantic as I turned away from him to start planning my escape.

And then, my breath caught.

Because what I saw inside the room, was Letha half-naked on the bed-- 

With Peter beneath her.

My body froze for a split second before a scream ripped itself from my throat; I shrieked, mortified as I stumbled backwards.

What...

... The fuck?!

Letha and Peter scrambled to untangle themselves, their eyes widening with panic as they tried to hide the obvious. Peter's shirt was half undone, and Letha's hair was a mess, both of them completely caught off guard. The sight of them in that moment, exposed and guilty, made my chest tighten in a way I couldn't describe; I knew exactly what I had just walked in on. 

And Roman, in a blur of motion, rushed forward-- his arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me to his chest with surprising force. One hand covered my eyes, blocking my view of the chaos I had just walked in on to shield me. "What the fuck?!" he barked, kicking the door shut behind us. "What's this?!"

My mind was actively melting against Roman's chest. It didn't help the situation that I could smell his usual cologne better than ever— God, I'd miss that smell in the coming years, wouldn't I?

But Peter and Letha were still scrambling, wide-eyed, and before they could say anything, Roman continued; "Are you out of your fucking minds?!"

Was this maybe just a drunk hallucination of sorts? Was this really happening? Letha and Peter? I should've listened to Jack earlier this week-- I should've listened to myself, because I had suspected something for a while, hadn't I? 

Peter was the first one to talk, visibly panicking; "Ro, calm down!--"

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down! What the fuck are you doing with my cousin, man?!"

"Letha and I were just!--"

"Yeah, I see what you were just doing, you filthy piece of shit!"

"Dude, I'm sorry, I tried to tell you! Over and over, I swear, I tried to!--" 

"Tell me what?! Is this not a one time thing? Is that what all your bullshit has been about?!" Roman yelled. "You calling me at prom and then not saying shit? All the times you've said you were busy when I knew you were just at home?" I could feel his chest raise with the air he forced inside his lungs-- a part of me was scared he'd faint from the anger. "You've been fucking my cousin?!"

"And you've fucked all the friends I've ever had!" Letha yelled back, protecting Peter while struggling to straighten her dress. Then she pointed to me, eyes drilling into Romans'; "I begged you not to touch her all those months ago too, but you didn't listen either!" 

A sick laugh ripped from Roman's throat, and when he finally pulled his hand away from my face, I saw it; the pure, unfiltered rage in his expression. "You have got to be fucking kidding me!" He stepped forward, eyes locking onto Letha. "You have been in her ear for weeks-- weeks!" He jabbed a finger toward me, his voice breaking slightly. "You've been telling her to stay away from me, telling her I'm dangerous, that I'll hurt her, while you've been making my life a living hell for the same thing that you have been doing too all along!"

"Roman, I!--"

"You sick fuck!" he barked, and the sheer volume of it made me flinch.

My head was spinning to the point where I thought I'd throw up again. It felt like a painful vibration in the front of my brain, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I pressed my palm to my forehead. Without thinking, I put my free hand on Roman's arm, silently telling him to give me a second. "How long has this been going on?" I tried.

Peter and Letha anxiously glanced at one another, looking like they were both ready for the world to swallow them whole. "I don't--" Letha started.

"-- Don't know," Peter mumbled, looking guilty as ever. "Three months? Maybe four?-- Ouch!"

Letha smacked his arm, visibly upset that he had admitted that. "Stop talking! You've already stressed me out with wanting to tell Roman about us, you've done enough!"

"He deserves to know!" Peter tried. His brown eyes were big with disgrace; "I told you I didn't want to hide this, I told you he might understand!"

This kicked Roman into the next gear. "Understand...? Understand?!" The boom of his voice made Peter turn white, and Letha grabbed the sheets of the bed as though they would somehow shield her. "Dude, you're fucking my cousin! I could rip your fucking head off right now if I wanted to, and you best believe that I do!--"

In timely manner, I suddenly gagged, clasping a hand over my mouth; that thankfully shut everyone up for second. This was too much for one night.

"She's gonna throw up," Letha mumbled. In true Godfrey fashion, she used this as an opportunity to start slowly scooting toward the edge of the bed, hoping for an easy escape. "We need to get her back to the kitchen sink, and then we can all talk about this when she feels better in a few days!--"

My hand shot up into the air, holding my pointer up as I recovered.

It was a very clear sign of shut up.

Shut.

Up.

I straightened my back, feeling my eye twitch with newfound anger. "Is that what you meant earlier, Letha?" I asked, my voice frail and quiet, yet steady. "When you said you wanted to have someone in your court if everything went down? Have you... been setting everything up for this?"

The silence in the room was deafening. 

Letha swallowed hard; "Look, I just--"

"Have you been breaking Roman and I up so that I'd be on your side?" I continued, cutting her off. "You knew that Peter was going to tell Roman about you two eventually. And when he'd find out, you... needed me to be your friend again so that you wouldn't be alone. Because this will... this will cost you everything, Letha." 

I gagged again at the realization-- Roman's arm shot forward to catch me from tumbling. I held onto him, feeling the tears press on in my eyes. "You didn't want to be friends with me," I breathed, my words coming out as clear whispers. "You just needed someone that was isolated. I was vulnerable, I was scared, and I was perfect for your plan, wasn't I?"

Letha's lips parted, but no words came out. She was staring at me, the usual sharpness in her eyes replaced with something I had never seen before-- guilt. Real guilt. Not the performative, self-righteous kind she always weaponized, but something raw, something vulnerable.

I could barely stand to look at her.

"Oh my God," I whispered, turning away from the scene. "You planned all of this."

Letha shook her head, frantic. "No!-- I mean, not like that, I!--"

"You what? What now?!" Roman snapped, stepping closer to the bed. His presence was suffocating, his fury burning through the room like wildfire. "You're always talking about morals, and you're always acting like you're so much better than me, but look at what you've done! So tell me, Letha, where's your moral high ground now?"

Letha's breathing was ragged, frozen in the most mortifying moment of her life. She looked back at Peter like he could somehow save her, but he just rubbed his face, looking more done than ever. "This is so fucked..." he muttered under his breath, almost like he was annoyed.

Roman's attention snapped back to him in an instant. "Oh, you think this is fucked?" He let out a humorless laugh; "You didn't even have the fucking balls to tell me yourself! You knew that Letha's been making my life hell while you've been doing God knows what with her behind my back!"

"It's not that simple!" Peter barked, scooting forward on the bed to shield Letha and give her space to breathe. "We've-- I've been into Letha for longer than I can remember!"

Letha immediately protested, and her face turned more and more red by the second; "Stop talking, stop talking, I swear to God! I'm going to die of a heart attack at this rate!" 

But her pleas didn't stop Peter. He was ready to fess up, just like he had been for a while, now. His shoulders slumped as his eyes locked with Roman's, getting ready to face his biggest secret. "Letha and I used to date, man. We used to be... together-together. She was my girlfriend for a while, but we broke up because we didn't want to hurt you, Ro, and because it was getting out of control. It was just too big of a secret to keep. But then you got together with her..." He nodded to me with a sigh. "And Letha said we were free to do whatever we pleased, and I gave in because..."

Peter turned to face Letha with a sweet shimmer in his eyes-- the type of look I recognized from all the times Roman had looked at me like that. 

"Because I love her," Peter whispered. 

I could only watch as Letha slowly dared to place her hand on top of his, and they exchanged a painfully sincere silent vow. 

The cherry on top for this moment, was when I started loudly gagging-- not because of the sight of them all loved up, but because all the drama, the stress, the alcohol, and the new sensation of nicotine. Acid crawled up my throat as I buckled over, crouching down as I tried to keep my breaths deep and steady; my brain felt like it was shutting down, and probably because it was.

Roman immediately bent down, trying to get on my level, but I wafted him away. He wouldn't be able to comfort me no matter what he did, not after how I had seen him kiss Jessica to get back at me.

I couldn't believe that I hadn't seen the signs. I couldn't believe that I hadn't noticed them being together when it had been right in front of me, all this time. Gathering strength, I spoke; "You're not really going to study philosophy, are you?"

Peter's head darted down to my crouched-over body. "What?"

"When I met you at the library," I breathed. "All that time ago, when you were reading tons of books about guilt...and you said it was because you were going to study philosophy. You've been lying to Roman and I, just like we've been lying to you. After all this fucking time... Fucking hell. We're, like, the shittiest group of people ever."

Roman, who had frozen to his spot in a mixture of disgust and shock, couldn't watch it any longer. His silence was worse than shouting. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, his nails dug into his palm, he had bit his teeth together so hard that I feared they might crack. The air in the room had changed; it was suffocating, thick with tension that pressed into my skin.

Peter dared to break it. "Roman--"

"Shut up," he hissed. "Enough."

Peter snapped his mouth shut, looking like he had just walked into traffic. Letha was frozen, her hand still resting on Peter's like she was drawing strength from him.

It didn't matter anymore— I wanted to get out. I needed to get out. Now.

"Rome," I mumbled, voice thin. "I need--"

His head darted to me immediately, and his eyes; God, his eyes. They weren't just angry anymore... they were desperate. He was coming undone too.

Letha seized the opportunity once more. "She needs air," she said quickly, standing up like she could actually be of help. "Let's just-- let's all go back down and talk about this later, okay?"

"Later?" Roman let out a sharp, breathless huff. "You don't get to decide that! Do you really think I'm ever talking to any of you uncouth mongoloids again?"

Letha huffed at the names. "But we should really figure out everything later, because you're about to lose your shit!"

Roman took a threatening step forward, and Peter immediately shifted off the bed to step in front of Letha. It was so instinctive that I nearly threw up all over again-- he truly loved her, didn't he? After all this time? 

"You're protecting her, dude?" Roman snarled, nodding to his cousin. "After everything?"

Peter's expression twisted with something I couldn't quite place. "I don't expect you to get it,"

"Oh, I get it, alright," With a smooth, final move, Roman bent down to help me stand up straight.

I swayed in my shoes, my breath catching in my throat to stop myself from immediately barfing all over the carpet. "I need air," I breathed. "This night has been too much. Too many lies, and one too many upirs-- because I assume he knows?"

Briefly, I glanced over at Peter after spilling the secret, but he only looked more guilty the longer my stare cut through into him. Of course he knew that Roman was a upir. Of course.

Everything blurred together, spinning too fast, and the weight of my decision pressed down on me so hard that I thought I'd collapse. The room was suffocating, the walls were closing in again, and the heat was unbearable-- I just needed to leave, I needed air, I needed space.

So I pushed away from Roman, staggering toward the door. "I can't-- I need to go,"

Enough was enough.

My whole life had fallen apart, and I couldn't do anything to save it. ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I wrapped myself further up in Roman's heavy jacket as the world around me kept on swaying. I couldn't go home like this. I didn't even know how to get home.

How was I supposed to carry on after everything that had happened tonight?

But life is a tricky thing-- it doesn't let you go until it's your time. So my legs kept carrying me forward, down the driveway, past the parked cars, because I needed to go on. The streetlights above flickered, casting long shadows across the pavement; I barely registered where I was going, only that I needed to move. Somehow, my feet worked faster than my brain did-- I crossed streets without looking, stumbling over cracks in the sidewalk, the distant hum of the party fading behind me as I passed the houses in the neighbourhood.

All of this distracted from the heaviness of my heart.

I had lost everything.

But behind me, just far enough away that I couldn't hear his footsteps, Roman followed. My everything.

He didn't call out to me.

He didn't rush.

He just walked. With his hands tucked into the pocket of his pants, he walked like he was tethered to me by destiny.

And maybe he was? A big part of my believe it, but tonight? Tonight, I couldn't take it. I turned around to face him, my breath unsteady as all my emotions ravaged through my chest; "Could you please stop following me? I can't-- I can't think when you're near,"

Roman came to a slow halt. He swayed slightly, his shoulders slumped, his hair a mess over his face. He looked at me like he wasn't really seeing me at all, like he felt nothing and everything at the same time. Then, in a voice so quiet it barely carried, he muttered, "I just... I don't know what else to do,"

The admission hung between us, hollow and tired. He sounded so wrecked-- something cracked inside me at the sight of him, at the way his lips barely moved when he spoke, at the way he looked like he could fall apart with the wind. He had nothing left to give. Not to me, not to himself, nothing at all.

Looking at him any longer than this would kill me; I knew it. My heart trembled in my chest as my eyes welled with tears at the sight of him. "Me neither," I breathed, turning back around to continue my stride, too drunk to think clearly, too pained by the events of the night.

It didn't take Roman more than a beat to keep following me. What else could he do?

I didn't know where I was going, but a park came into view and seemed like the most peaceful option. The playground, the swings, the hollow quiet of a place meant for children, was abandoned at this hour-- my feet dragged through the wood chips as I made my way toward the middle of it, taking in the quiet of the landscape. Maybe this place would give us peace?

But Roman's steps came to an abrupt stop a few feet away. "Did you know?" he called out. "Are you sure you didn't know about Peter and Letha?"

I turned to look at him then, to really look at him. The streetlights cast shadows across his face— he was in the dark, where he certainly belonged. "I had no idea," I confessed. "I would've told you if I knew."

Roman let out a weak, bitter breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. "This is too much," he choked out. "This night-- I can't take any more of this. I feel like I just died."

A long silence stretched between us, thick with something neither of us could escape. There was no anger in his eyes now, no fire, just hollow emptiness, and I couldn't tell if that was worse. "I'm sorry about Peter," I tried, softening my eyes. "I always knew Letha was a bit of a cunt, but I would've never thought Peter would do something like this to you... I'm sorry."

Roman couldn't look at me anymore-- he raised his chin to look at the pair of crows sitting at the top of a nearby tree. It was at this moment that I saw the tears in his eyes, and the single one that rolled down his cheek. "I don't care about Peter," he breathed. "I don't care about him, I don't care about Letha, I-- I don't care about anything anymore."

My heart hammered in my chest— what?

"I feel at fault, because I should've known," Roman mumbled, his voice full of resignation as he rubbed away his tears with the back of his hand. "I should've known this would all fall apart... because it always does. People always leave. You always leave."

Fuck. "Roman," I whispered. "That's not—"

"I've been running after you, hoping that if I tried enough, if I did more, that you'd choose me... but you won't," he choked out, lower lip quivering. "Not even my best friend chose me. No one ever does, so... I'm done. I can't change what I am. I'll always be a upir, and if you can't trust that I'd rather die than hurt you, then there's nothing more I can do."

Roman turned away, and his shoulders slumped with the realization; at the end of the night, I wasn't the one who made the final decision about us-- it was him. His next breath seemed to be one of pained relief; "I can't keep doing this. Congratulations... You're free. I can't love you anymore. I won't love you anymore," 

He took a final, slow step back. "You're right... this has to end. It's over,"

And then, Roman Godfrey turned around to leave me drunk and alone in a park long past midnight. 

... What?

Roman was done?

He couldn't love me anymore...?

I won't. I won't. I won't.

It echoed all over. It's over. I can't. I won't. But that's surely not how love works? Can someone just decide not to love someone?

My reaction to Roman leaving felt like a stolen breath-- painful, instant. It felt like my words clawed their way out of my mouth, forcing my jaw apart with one quick snap of bones, and exited with one quick, panicked yell; "Wait!"

It echoed through the park.

Over and over.

My hand laid over the vial of his blood which I kept around my neck, feeling it burn into my skin. "Roman, wait!"

... And it's around here that you'd assume this would end, right? 

You're probably holding your breath, waiting for the moment when Roman's gonna turn around hear me out, tell me he loves me after all, that he's gonna forgive me and we'll live happily ever after, blah blah blah--

But this is not that kind of a story. I'm sorry that I made you believe it was.

Do you finally get why I've needed you along with me this time? Why I've been talking directly to you for once?

... No?

Fine. I'll be more clear. I'll show you the rest; I'll show you why.

My breath was stuck in my throat as I anticipated the sound of Roman's voice, the sound of his forgiveness coming out to soothe me. This was probably proper karmic retribution for me, sure, but could this really be the end? 

Now that he was truly walking away, it hit me like a freight train; I didn't want it to end. 

I didn't want to let him go, especially now that he was letting go of me.

It could work, right?

Every nerve in my body screamed at me to move, so I did. When I realized Roman wasn't turning back around, I choked down a brewing sob and hurried to keep up after him. "Rome, please!"

The nickname had him twitching; it was clear that he was upset about his choice, his forced resignation, and the doubt in his body was a consolation to my momentary panic. But in that moment, his head also turned to the side, and I saw something flicker in his eyes. In no time, completely out of the blue, Roman picked up his pace and started walking in a completely different direction like a dog in a fox-chase. His nose flared, his posture shifted-- he wasn't just walking away from me, he was sensing something.

What was happening?

"Wait!" My voice cracked, rising with panic. He wasn't stopping. He really wasn't stopping. "Stop it! Where are you going?!" Would we ever stop chasing each other? "Do you really expect me to be okay so easily after you kissed Jessica like that?! This is-- This is too much pressure, this is insane! Give me a minute to think at least, stop running!"

Roman's movements were so fast, so precise, that it felt like I was trying to catch up to a ghost. The distance between us seemed to stretch, and I could feel my limbs growing heavier with each step, the weight of my emotions and alcohol pulling me down. But I kept going, desperate, with my heart drumming in my ears.

And when Roman finally came to a halt in the outskirts of the park, I lunged forward; I tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, stumbling as I clung to him, forcing him to see me, to hear me. I let out a choked sob against him, desperate to not let go of the man that I loved. "Hear me out, okay?" I cried. "Just give me a second, I'm too drunk to think!"

But Roman didn't react.

Didn't look.

Because his gaze was frozen on something completely different.

There, tucked into one of the small, plastic playhouses, was a shape. A person.

Confused and broken, my gaze followed his. At first, it barely registered-- it was just someone that had passed out, curled up in the cramped space like a drunk trying to sleep it off. It was the kind of thing you might see after a party, someone who never made it home. That was normal; I didn't think much of it, confused by Roman's entrancement, until I recognized the pink clips in the person's hair.

That was Brooke Bluebell, wasn't it?

Fuck-- it was.

Then, I saw the way Roman's face shifted, the way his nostrils flared, the way he inhaled. It immediately made me step away from him and toward Brooke. Something cold crawled down my spine; "Roman?" I whispered, instantly feeling beyond nauseous once again. "Maybe we should?--"

His arm shot out, barring me from moving any closer. "Wait," he snapped, his voice coated with warning and concern.

The smell hit me a second later.

Coppery. Thick.

I gagged when I finally got a proper look, and I stumbled back as the truth crashed over me.

Brooke Bluebell wasn't sleeping.

She was laying in her own blood, her eyes wide open as her drained body looked frozen in a scream-- her intestines had been dragged out of her stomach, scattered along her torso, and her legs were gone, as though mauled from beneath.

Slowly, Roman turned to me, pupils dilated beyond normal; I knew his upir senses were screaming inside his head. "I thought the smell of blood was thicker because you were on your period or something," he breathed. "I thought-- fuck."

My mind was spinning beyond control, and only the sound of our heavy breathing filled the playground until the distant wail of sirens cut through the silence. I flinched, feeling my heart-rate spike; "Shit!-- Roman, we can't be here!" I grabbed his arm, trying to pull him away. "Please! You can't be exposed to this, we've gotta go!"

But Roman didn't move.

He wouldn't.

It was clear that he was trying to drown out whatever his upir senses were telling him to do, and I had no idea how I was supposed to reel him away from the edge. 

The sirens howled closer,  and the wind picked up, scattering the scent of blood into the cold night air.

... Brooke Bluebell was dead.

And we were about to be caught at the scene of her murder.

(a/n: AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!! WELCOME TO THE PLOT OF BOOK 2! I WILL BE MAKING AN ANNOUNCEMENT THIS WEEKEND, BUT BEFORE THAT--- THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH MY SWEETHEARTS FOR READING THIS FAR!!��🌸 I have been building towards the Letha and Peter reveal since the STARTTTT AHHHH FINALLY IT'S YOURS!!! FINALLY I CAN SHARE IT!!! MY HEART IS YOURS, AND SO IS MY WORK, SO THANK YOU<3333 AND I'M SORRY FOR THIS OH GOD???)

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[thehoneybeestings]

𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐞𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫-𝐢𝐧-𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊˚── Synopsis: Though life has led the two of you in very different directions, sabotaged cargo shipments seem to keep bringing you and Silco's second hand together, for better or for worse.

Word Count: 1.6k Content/Warnings: angst + no happy ending, nsfw, hate sex, top!sev, bottom!reader, reader has female anatomy + referred to w fem pronouns/terms, rough/mean sex, degradation/humiliation (r receiving), dubcon (consent never explicitly given but neither party is/feels forced), slapping (r receiving), strap sucking (sev receiving) A/N: so, i asked if y'all wanted hate sex w sev x enforcer-in-training. you all said yes. i did not expect this fic to be what made me break my own biggest rule: no sad endings for sapphics. with that being said, if you, too, hate sad endings, i am genuinely more than happy to write a pt. 2 for those of us who cannot handle angst lmaooo. if sad endings ARE your thing... enjoy, my sweet little masochist...

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

“Hey!”

Sevika stops in her tracks with an irritated sigh, throws her head back, and rolls her eyes. She’d know that voice anywhere. Could recognize the squeal of that chiding from a mile away.

“You!”

Finally, she turns on her heel. “Me?” She points at herself with a copper claw, and you wonder how she managed to convey such infuriating sarcasm with just one word. She smirks as you stomp toward her, pleased to see that her attempt at making you even angrier than you already were was successful. Your black combat boots come to a stop about a foot away from her own, your nose turned up, and your finger in her face. “Yes, you!” You shriek. “Unless there’s someone else who’s managed to sabotage the last three shipments I’ve been assigned to guard!” She scoffs, that stupid smirk still on her face, that brow cocked to the high heavens. “You need to calm down, sweetheart.” Her words are too relaxed. She looks too unamused. She’s taunting you. You hate that it’s working. “Sweetheart? Calm down? I’m gonna be in deep shit if you don’t-” “Do you think I give a fuck?” Your head rears back. You chuckle incredulously. “Fine! Fuck me, I guess. Not like I’m this close to graduating from the academy, and that if you don’t quit screwing with my assignments, all of it goes down the damn drain!” Her icy eyes bore into you for longer than you can stand, and when you finally look away, she takes a threatening step forward, shoulders squared. “Do you think I give a fuck?” Your breath hitches in your throat. Your mouth goes dry. You’re sure she can hear your heart pounding. Still, you don’t back down. You’ve been trained not to. “You should,” you dare to whisper. This time, it’s Seviks who laughs in disbelief. “Should I?” She nods mockingly. There's a gnawing ache in the pit of your stomach now. You can't tell if it's guilt, anger, or just plain exhaustion. Likely some fucked up combination of all three. “And why is that?” She presses. You should've known she would; that she'd make you say the quiet part out loud.  

“Because,” you huff, “we… you and I… you know me, Sevika. We were together for damn near a year-” “Until you walked away.” Her words are icy, but steady all the same. Your breath is shallow, uneven. Angry tears threaten to spill from your eyes. And there she stands: unmoving, unaffected. “You're fucking bold, enforcer.” You take a deep breath. You know she’s right. And as much as you want to tell her that joining the academy felt like your only way out, your only chance to make a difference without falling in line behind Silco and his shimmer-stained empire, that you truly did believe you could be the good cop in a batch of bad apples, you don’t. Because it doesn’t change that you left her. That when shit hit the fan, you ran for a softer life, a shiny badge, and one hell of a retirement plan. “Enforcer-in-training,” you meekly correct. 

“Right,” she scoffs. “Enforcer-in-training. Knowing damn well what they do to our people.” 

You wince; almost imperceptibly, but the woman in front of you knows you too well. Knows she's wearing you down. So she keeps going. “Or has it only taken 12 weeks of boot camp for you to forget?” 

You clench your jaw as she twists the knife. 

“That’s enough, Sevika,” you grit. 

“Oh?” She challenges, stepping forward again. “Was that too far? Can't talk about home anymore?” 

“Sevika-”

“They don’t want you bringin’ up that you’re from Zaun? Or is that a you thing? Don't wanna think about the folks you left behind-” “Fuck you!” You spit; and you try to shove her away, but she's all muscle and metal, and now she's got you pinned against a brick wall. 

“Watch your fucking mouth. You don't run shit down here.” 

It takes you a moment to register the metal claws wrapped around your neck, but when you do, you curse the heat that begins to pool in between your legs. It only takes her one moment longer to register your sudden desire, and when she does, she laughs in your face. “You’re fucking kidding,” she exhales, breath warm on your cheek and smelling of the spearmint gum she always chews. “You need to let me go,” you demand, but your shaky voice is anything but commanding. “Let you go? Baby, your pupils are blown out like you just did a line of powder. You love this.” She’s right. You’re all desperation and shame, cheeks hot and thighs pressing together. She loves it, too.   She squeezes tighter. Watches those pretty eyes gloss over, feels your hands reach out to frantically unbuckle her belt. A slow, victorious grin stretches across her dark lips. “Considering all the dick sucking you do on the job, you’d think it was part of your training,” she purrs, tilting her head to the side. “Wish it was. I’ve heard Grayson likes to stay strapped.” The slap delivered to your cheek is swift and sharp. “You talk like I won’t leave you a fucking wreck in this alley,” she grits, metal claw sliding up to grab your face and yank it forward until it’s mere inches from her own. You keep pushing. You want her to break you. “That’s what I’m asking for. Was that not obvious?” You’re on your knees in a second. Gagging on her dick in two. “You talk too much,” she jeers. “Should know by now there are better things to do with that pretty mouth.” She grabs a fistful of your hair, pulls you off of her length, lets you take one desperate breath, then puts your mouth to work again. 

By the time she’s hauling you back onto your feet, your face is covered in spit, tears, and running mascara. She laughs. Low and menacing. “You look like a fucking mess.” A weak smile pulls at your lips. Why the fuck do you like this? She asks you the same thing as she spins you around and pushes your cheek against the rough brick. “You like being humiliated, huh? Why is that, baby? Think you deserve it? Feels good to get punished?” You let out a feeble whimper. With the hand that isn’t pushing your face against the wall, she hikes up your enforcer-blue skirt, pulls down your underwear, and lands a hard smack on the swell of your ass to let you know that it didn’t suffice as an answer. “I asked you a question, doll,” she warns. “Be a good girl and use your words.” "Yes!” You obey, “I do, I like it… feels good, mommy, please-” “Mommy?” You kick yourself. There’s no way she’s letting you live that one down. “Good gods, baby; they not giving you enough credit up there? So desperate for approval that you’re going around calling people ‘mommy’ now?” Your own embarrassment sobers you enough to get at least a little defensive. “No, asshole. I don’t go around calling people… that.” “Oh?” She chuckles, and your breath catches in your throat as she slides her strap through your slick folds. “Just me, then?” “Don’t flatter yourself,” You grit. You flinch as she taps the silicone up against your swollen clit. “Aw, come on,” she croons. “Admit it:” You feel her lining up with your entrance, the tip of the strap just barely pressing into you, “You’re still dick-whipped for me, doll.” She pushes in, quick enough to steal your breath away, but not so fast that you can’t feel every ridge of the silicone brushing against your walls. They flutter around her, clamping down when she bottoms out. “You gonna give it back?” Neither of you expects the giggle that escapes you. You don’t even realize she’d kept your face pressed against the brick all this time until she lets go, hand smoothing over your hair and down your body in a manner that’s far too tender. It settles on your hip, kneading like it’s muscle memory. Like she used to do in her sleep. “Please, fuck me, Sev-” The rest of her name is cut off by a hiccup, and she knows there's nothing more to why those last two syllables got lost, but it sounds too much like you’re just calling her by her nickname again. You both feel it in the air. When crackling electricity morphs into oppressive humidity. The shift from anger to grief.  The grief always shows up eventually. And that’s when she fucks the living daylights out of you. Because it’s easier than admitting that this isn’t just sex. That you don’t volunteer for guarding shipments in Zaun, and that she doesn’t insist on being the one to lead them. That you aren’t still searching for each other in everything that you do. Thank Janna you’re getting fucked too hard to think, or you just might tell her you still love her. Wanton moans and stuttering gasps spill from your lips instead. She doesn’t speak, either. Can’t bring herself to degrade you anymore, and knows that the only other thing she has to say is that she doesn’t smoke as much nowadays, because she got used to taking smoke breaks with you. So, no confessions in this alleyway tonight. No honesty on this cobbled street. Only mewls, grunts, and the sound of skin on skin ricocheting off its brick walls. Only combat boots planted firmly on oil-slicked stone, though the ground underneath the two of you couldn’t be less solid.  Only the enforcer-in-training and Silco’s second hand pretending they don’t wonder what their wedding would have been like, and what their kids’ names would’ve been. ──˚₊ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ‧₊˚──

Taglist: @darktrashpoetry, @youngpotato33

[panthrology]

waking up horny in the dead of night with SUGURU GETO as your boyfriend is actual hell sometimes

i just know that this man has the worst attitude when really tired. who can blame him? being a guy as hot as he is cannot be easy.

“girl—” suguru would grunt and turn back over after shaking him awake for dick. for dick. yeah self-inflicted really. other times he wouldn't say anything at all, just shoot you a nasty look.

but a girl has her needs.

“baby please?” you try again, perching your chin onto his buff arm. “the dream was a little too detailed.” a small pout forms on your puckered lips.

“that isn't my fault,” suguru counters, the soft bass in his voice resounding in your shared bedroom. “you couldn't have waited until there was light outside?”

you shake your head.

“must be tough. good night, sweetheart.”

this man. you groan out an exasperated ‘suguru!’ and curve over his form, staring at him as if he can see you through his closed eyelids.

“no, y/n.”

“i’ll top?”

you lied.

you knew damn well you couldn't be bothered to ride him to an orgasm at two in the morning and so did suguru. so when he scoffed and muttered “roll over.” you were grinning victoriously.

“I don't belive you.” suguru hissed, lifting up your hoodie over your hips and feeling up the skin of your ass.

“sorry, sugu’.” you're breathless already when he starts spreading the globes of your ass apart to take a good look at your cunt through low lidded eyes with the sleep and arousal still weighing them down. suguru merely tutted, wrapping a hand around his bobbing cock to push his tip in for the second time tonight.

you tensed as you sunk your head into the pillow in front of you. suguru had a big dick. you knew that much from the time you caught wind of what his attitude was like. nonchalant, quiet confidence, tall, pretty large hands. You'd be surprised if he didn't.

“y/n..if you don't relax. I can't move if you're trying to crush me.” you roll your eyes—so dramatic.

you ease up, but quickly choke on your breath when he slides all the way in, filling you with his thick inches. your pussy flutters at the intrusion, squeezing suguru again. “shiittt baby..” yeah—he undoubtedly missed that.

and when suguru sees your ass ripple and hips jump forward with every deep thrust, he suddenly thinks that he made a good decision.

but he was still fucking tired.

“mm-mm, don't run from me, sweetheart. you wanted me to give it to you, so take it—take this dick ‘fore I take it away.”

“you're so needy, can't even let a man sleep.”

“pretty girl just can't stop creamin’ all over me, so cute.”

“listen t'thaat, it's like your pussy's doin’ all the talking. have i made you dumb already, sweetheart?

for someone who’s so fatigued, he can't seem to shut up at all. mumbling and groaning nastiness all up in your ear like he's drunk on your pussy. suguru thinks he just might be.

he's got a firm grip on your hair and one digging into the fat of your hip, balls thwacking against your sticky cunt. suguru's strokes are mean, every ridge of his cock rubbing against your cushy walls. you're actually drooling, the dizzying mixture of exhaustion and pleasure making you float higher than the pearly gates. Yet with the way your hole squelches when he goes real deep..and his fat tip grinds on that one spot, you're going anywhere but heaven.

You don't even have to say it, suguru knows. suguru knows you're about to cum when he can feel you sporadically squeeze him and when your moans get longer and higher against the pillow you bury yourself into.

“gonna cum already?” he's giggling, the trembles of your ankles and the way your fist tightens not going unnoticed by him. “fuck me back, then. show me how bad you wanna cum on me.” he stops all motion before yawning out loud, a lazy hand reaching his face to cover his mouth. how sexy.

pressing your lips together, you brace your hands out in front of you and swing your ass back on suguru. you were on thin ice right now, and with his snarky attitude, he literally might just leave you high and dry.

your knees are unsteady and shaky but you persevere, looking over your shoulder to see jet black strands hang over his face and shoulders, and amber eyes steeled on where you two connect. his lips are parted slightly as he huffs out a gravelly groan.

“yeah, jus’ like that. fuck me.” suguru praises, words sliding over each other slightly. he picks up the pace again, balls tightening as his head hangs low. he listens to your drawn out moans, sounding more like broken sobs with each stroke he gives you and it makes him dizzy. “‘m gonna cum, i'm gonna cum.” he's whining now.

“inside, sugu’—don't stop!” you beg as you spasm around him, milking your boyfriend.

suguru huffs out a laugh, a lazy grin stretches on his lips. he loves seeing you needy and mind-fucked like this—it scratches an itch deep in his soul. “alright. stay still f'me sweetheart—gonna give it to ya how you like.”

a shattered whimper rips from your throat as he pushes his hips all the way forward, and rams himself all the way in so his cock bullies that spot, the one that makes your cunt gush.

“o-ohh, my god! right there..’s right there, ‘m gonna cuumm..” you wail but he shushes you, the volume of your moans making him wince.

“make a mess pretty girl,” he grunts before his jaw goes slack and ropes of his sticky load flood your cunt. “fuuuckk..” but he doesn't stop—he powers through his orgasm and into overstimulation. suguru smiles when your eyes roll back and your limbs go limp, wailling into the satin pillowcase as you cum and cream onto him.

you think you black out for a second with your ears ringing and heart hammering in your chest. knees falling flat, your entire body slumps forward into the mattress as the aftershocks of your orgasm shoot through you like lightning. you could practically feel the beads of sweat sliding down your body underneath your hoodie.

when a warm and wet rag slides against your slit and inner thighs, you glance behind you and see an entirely spent suguru. he's continuously yawning while he pulls your flimsy underwear back up, before tossing the damp towel into the dirty laundry basket.

“thank you sugu’,” a satisfied sigh escapes your lips as he tucks you into his embrace, yet all suguru can do is scoff. you couldn't help but giggle at his annoyance, smiling like a cat who got the cream.

literally.

“next time, I'll just ignore you and get my well deserved sleep,” he spits, resting his chin atop your head.

totally worth it.

© NEPTNSZN 2024 ★ please do NOT copy, repost or modify my pieces, apply credit when necessary.

[adoregojo]

secret admirer.

hihihihihihihihi, i cannot believe i actually slept for two days in a row? wth? and also that i never did this kind of posts? im such a lazy bum mb yall, I promise I'll write a real fic soon. summary: bllk characters as your secret admirers: isagi, bachira, chigiri, reo. how they fell, what do they do, how did they confess.

isagi.y

him. just him.

you once held his shirt collar to stop him from planting flatly on the floor.

and when you walked away, you walked with his heart in your palms.

yea, just like that

but honestly, isagi himself didn't knew he was such a big sap inside

and the moment he realised you two shared a few classes was the second he almost kneeled and thanked the sky itself for this.

an absolute swoon from looking at your side profile.

he once was long gone within the abyss of daydreaming about you, he genuinely just couldn't look away.

then got called out by the teacher for being too distracted.

definitely prayed that you didn't see that.

writes your name unintentionally in his notebook.

gets so embarrassed about it later and rips the paper.

still dose it again the next day and almost ripped the whole book apart form cringing at himself.

he once was musing over you too much to the point that your name slipped out unwittingly on the dinner table.

his parents couldn't stop teasing him about it, wondering when they would see you walking down their house door.

leaves love notes in your locker almost everyday.

it's something short and simple like: "you look pretty today."

then when he goes home he'll realize how dumb that was because you literally look the prettiest everyday.

dumb, dumby.

takes time to make the first move though.

he just feels like you're way, farther away from his reach.

it's okay, he still considers himself lucky to be one of those who got admire you.

he just hoped you saw him behind all of them, even if it was a glance.

chigiri.h

omgg pretty boyyy

despite chigiri being a confident and self-reliant, the trigger words of his old injury was like a pulling a pin of a grenade to his still-raw sorrowness. something that'll always haunt him.

and what dose he dare to say when they were nothing but truthful? like a salt to his wounds, he tends to just take it and suck it up, or at least try to ignore it for his sake.

but everything flipped when you stood up for him.

from that moment on. chigiri knew that he was far a goner.

out of everyone here he's definitely the most romantic one.

reads all your favourite books and analysis it.

probably named a cat after you.

like isagi he writes love letters for you.

just a little too poetic..

it it's short then it's something like: "loving you is like breathing." or "i hope your days are filled with the same joy you give me with your existence only."

but mostly is: "my definition of love, i see the true meaning of living behind your hue of life. you shall lighten my soul with your existence alone, i was born to see you shin each day, witnessing you is a blessing from heaven itself. the day that i stop seeing you as the owner of the stars is the day my body shall vanish, yet my soul will know it way back to you. from your only and one your admirer."

what a lovesick clown.

he might be a smooth talker on the outside, but trust me the butterflies of sentimental keeps on swirling in his stomach on the sight of you.

told his mother and sister about you.

it was his biggest regrets.

because the next day his sister shouted your name in a demand for you to spend the night for the 'meeting of the future in law'.

he had to physically drag her back to the car, freaking embarrassing.

couldn't meet your eyes for a while after that.

wants to hold your hand.

like, really badly.

it's just that feeling your skin against his cold, pristine hands must've feel like the loveliest, cosiest thing.

the thoughts alone are making him go crazy.

he confessed first, just couldn't help himself.

he just hoped if you would go to the end of the world alongside with him.

bachira.m

the sunshine boy himself.

the definition of fell first AND fell harder.

it all started when the class was ordered to work as duo for a project, something he always despised.

you may say that because bachira was definitely not having the word 'smart' in his book, you'd be right actually.

but mainly since no one really wanted to group up with him.

it was embarrassing, to just sit there and wait to be picked was putting him under the lights that pointed him out as the most pitiful creature in the room.

then you pocked him on the shoulder, and asked him if he wanted to be your partner.

and when he didn't see the sarcasm reeking from you, he knew he tripped hard, and couldn't find it anywhere in his feet to back him up.

it was strange, bachira never had a company, let alone a crush.

but the signs were there, and were painfully vulnerable.

painted you in art class multiple times; you with a smile, you reading a book, you sniffing a sunflower.

maybe also you and him... holding hands or hugging...

stares at your face a way, way too long.

he tells himself it's to crave your features better and detailed.

even he doesn't believe that however.

he draws your eyes a lot.

his second favourite colour is your eyes hue.

he was never the best at writing romantic poems, and his hand writing is just........

so he insisted gets you a gift!

which is a rock.

yes you heard me, rock.

he would even paint a little face with a smile on it and leave it on your desk by the end of the day.

almost went bald from joy when you had it hanging as a small march on your bag.

and when you had a bad day, that goes unnoticed by him.

so imagine your surprise when you would find two pairs of rocks, one kissing the other who had a sad expression on it face.

that somehow that foster a blissful smile on your face. like that little action extinct any remains of the past negative you carried.

and bachira was more than happy to be the reason for your happiness.

definitely rambles about you to his mom.

and his monster.

he once ha a dream about you two smooching.

cried when he woke up because he wanted it to be real more than anything.

you two confessed first, at the same time.

and boy was he dancing on cloud nine at it.

he almost smooch you that moment and then.

reo.m

it's mister perfect everyone, cheer.

you fell first, he fell harder.

no, literally. you fell. tripped flat on the floor.

and somehow, that made the reo mikage heart move.

?????????

love at first (fall??) sight.

he definitely leaves a trail of gifts for you everywhere.

your chair, desk, locker, bag.

he switches between chocolate and flowers to letters and perfumes, necklaces, etc..

you say how he picked them?

easy, see something that reminds him of you, he buys.

and it's pretty foolish since he sees you in almost everything.

reo is convinced that you're within everything that shins beautifully.

he actually paid the teachers to let him be in the same classroom as you.

paid even more to get a seat next to you.

rip to whoever was sitting next to you.

he once heard that a guy was bothering you.

the next day the guy was the talking of school because he suddenly moved out of town due to his dad losing his job.

hm, must be karma then.

has a shrine of you.

but you didn't hear that from me.

talks about you none stop to nagi and ba-ya.

genuinely sobbed when he imagined you with someone else.

has a flight under your name.

made a makeshift doll of you so he can practice his confessions on.

had a mental breakdown of the idea of you rejecting him.

reo can the most horrible, miserable day to a human kind to live.

then he sees you smiling

BOOM

he's all happy and smiling again, also a little giddy.

you once greeted him good morning, the next day he was planing what ring would suit you the most.

had two planes to write on the sky: 'will you go out with me?' and your name next to it in a shade of a heart.

now, you definitely cannot reject that. (Please don't)

have a nice day everyone.

[pannman]

What's on your mind

Alastor x telepathic reader

Tw: dark thoughts, mentions of violence, depressed thoughts, angst, overstimulation

You knew it was a bit risky to show up to a new place hoping for salvation. But in Hell you were given a secret gift... it was more like a curse. You heard people's thoughts. Whether you wanted to or not. And being surrounded by all the worst kinds of people and hearing the horrible and nasty things that plagued their minds had turned you antisocial. You rarely exited your apartment.

The plants were your only friends. But one eviction notice from your pervy landlord and you were out on the streets again. He had tripled your rent almost overnight after you rejected him. You trailed through the busy street hearing all the the unholy thoughts of others and you began to get overstimulated. The voices of a thousand sinners filled your head with their dark thoughts and you covered your ears in instinct even though you knew it would do no good

*I want to kill that bastard with his own car*

*I'll slip something skimpy on and while he's cock drunk I'll steal his wallet and then slice his throat*

*I hate myself. I cannot keep doing this. I'm a monster. I deserve to be here. I need to find some drugs. I can't deal with this sober. Fuck my life! I wish death was really the end*

*Steal. Steal. Steal. I want that. I need that! I'll just wait until that guy leaves his store and I'll break the window and take it. I'll stab anyone who gets in my way. I must have it! Steal! STEAL!*

Suddenly you were brought out of your emotional spiral by the tv in the window next to you. "And there you have it. The new and improved Hazbin Hotel is now officially open for business! The princess of hell is now again accepting patrons for her little pet project she calls redemption. I don't know about any of you. But I think she's wasting her fucking time. But she did save hell and her precious daddy gave us a lot of money so here you go. Check out the Hazbin Hotel and check in to start your journey to the gates of Heaven today! Is that good enough? What do you mean the cameras are still on?"

Even though you weren't 100% sure you believed it was possible, the idea of getting out of hell was far too tempting. And you needed somewhere to stay anyway. You rang the doorbell expecting the princess of hell to answer only to see the door opened by a tall well dressed but creepy looking gentleman. You recognized him quickly. He was an overlord named Alastor or also known as the Radio Demon. You didn't know he was going to be there but you tried to pretend like you weren't in shock

"Hello, my name is y/n. I'm here to-" suddenly Alastor swept you away and guided you inside with a hand on your lower back. "Of course my dear! I'm Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you quite a pleasure! Do come in" His thoughts peirced into your brain with a sharp pain and a sound of static

*yet another fool seeking redemption. Or perhaps a sinner with some ulterior motive. I'm sure they won't last long. But it'll be such fun playing with them*

You were unsettled by his thoughts and proceeded to grow more uncomfortable with his touch. You were beginning to change your mind when the hostess of the hotel, the princess herself finally showed. "Oh my gosh! Are you here to join the hotel?" She looked so excited that she looked as if she'd explode any minute

*I hope Alastor doesn't scare this one away as well. He can be so intimidating. I just wanna help them but they never stick around.*

Realizing the princess had genuine intentions unlike anyone you've encountered here, you felt more inclined to stay. The tension in your shoulders began to relax. "Yeah, I'd like to give it a try at least" You answered. "That's great! I'm Charlie! Of course you've met Alastor..."

Once again you were mentally attacked by Alastors thoughts for some reason. You've never felt actual pain from your telepathy before

*Another sucker here to try and fail like the others. This will be fun to watch*

Charlie seemed to notice your distress. "Are you ok?" She asked. You rubbed your temples and tried to drown out the pain. "Yeah, I... I just get headaches sometimes. It's nothing to worry about" you lied.

Charlie introduced you to the rest of the hotel who seemed much less enthusiastic about your arrival. It was very clear they weren't too confident in you sticking around. Their thoughts gave away their true situation. People must have been coming and going ever since they reopened. But still, it was a place to stay. For free. And at least one nice person was there. You liked Charlie. It was a breath of fresh air to hear thoughts that 1. Weren't horrible and 2. Matched the energy and vibe of the person. She was kind and real. That made you believe it couldn't be all bad

But then Alastor of all people offered to show you to your room. You glanced a look of worry at Charlie who was completely distracted and oblivious while talking away to her girlfriend about how excited she was about a new sinner entering the hotel

He chatted away with you the entire way. "So tell me, what makes you so interested in this place? I am rather curious"

*What are their true motivations?*

You responded. "I lost my apartment and I was at a low place. I saw an advertisement on TV and figured what else have I got to loose" you weren't exactly lying. Just leaving out the fact that you can read minds or more that they read themselves to you without your consent. "Oh trust me you still have plenty. You've got your soul and your life. Those things have at least SOME value. Either way, there is no place quite as beautiful and desperate as rock bottom. Yes?"

*I wonder if they can get any lower?*

You were beginning to become better at hiding the migraines Alastor's thoughts were giving you but you were growing exhausted from fighting it. It was like being around him drained you. You grew more tired by the minute. "Yeah I guess so..."

"You must've had a long day. I imagine it's been overwhelming for you. But do not worry. Our beds are quite comfy" he reassured you.

*Comfier than a coffin of course*

You laughed...

"What is so funny?" He asked tilting his head in curiosity as the two of you stopped at your room door. "Uhh. Nothing I just remembered something funny" you lied. "Oh do tell!" He replied. Shit...

"it was really dumb you wouldn't like it" you tried to lie your way out of this. "Oh and you think you know me so well already?" He responded

*I don't know what's up with this sinner but they are definitely hiding something*

Oh no... quick think of something funny. "So I saw this... guy and he... fell out of a window... into... a coffin! And... he fell asleep in it... I don't know why, I just thought it was funny" You felt your heart racing in you chest. Alastor stared at you with scrutiny before smiling wide. "You're right that is quite dumb. But I suppose everyone's humor is different. Anyway, here is your room. Please let me know if there's any way I could make your stay more comfortable." He bought it?

"Yeah... I'll keep that in mind. Thank you" you began to close the door. "One more thing..." He said as you stopped. "Yes?" His thoughts peirced your mind louder than ever before as if he was speaking to you on purpose. The static now making his voice sound straight up demonic. You clutched your head barely being able to withstand the pain

*How long have you been able to read my mind?*

[xaviesstarlight]

Infold needs to release a Cat Caretaker Part II where MC is the one who’s cursed by the kitty evol. I can just imagine how the LIs would react:

Rafayel

Absolutely waking up to his worst nightmare. His beloved bride is a cat, a horrible monster.

But she would be his cat. He would take care of MC and make sure she has everything she needs while staying with him for the week.

No painting would be done to Thomas’s dismay. MC is chasing seagulls down the beach and constantly knocking over Rafayel’s paint brushes when inside (when she’s not trying to fish Reddie out of the fish tank).

Rafayel just gives up getting any work done and cooks MC a seafood feast.

The worst part for him is that MC refuses to get in the water when he tries to get them both to take a bath. He is distraught that he cannot share his favorite time of day with her anymore.

Xavier

You think Xavier forgot how MC left him while he was cursed as a cat? Think again. He would make sure MC doesn’t forget and will stay by her side 24/7. Xavier wouldn’t abandon his kitty.

Their days are full of nonstop sleeping. Xavier already has the sleeping habits of a cat. He is in heaven being able to cuddle and nap with MC all day.

That is until she gets super hyper and is running around the apartment at 3 am and wanting to play video games.

Xavier decides he is going to cook fish for MC. Of course it is inedible to even a cat, so they just get take out again.

Zayne

For the man who loves cats, he is living the dream to take on the caretaker role for MC.

They cuddle in bed, he makes sure she is healthy and comfortable in her current state, and he buys MC snacks to satisfy her kitty cravings, including sharing super sweet desserts.

Of course, MC doesn’t forget how Zayne didn’t let her pet his kitty ears. She takes revenge by doing the same to him.

Zayne sighs in quiet resignation to not being able to pet her ears. MC eventually gives in and allows him to do so.

She also visits Zayne at work and surprises the kids in pediatrics. Everyone loves seeing her ears.

Sylus

We all know Sylus loves taking care of cats and his kitten. When MC shows up at his place with cat ears, he immediately demands she stays with him until she recovers.

He constantly smirks when calling MC his kitten, which happens a lot more than usual.

Sylus does panic when MC begins chasing after Mephisto around the base.

MC also sits in Sylus’s lap, kneading his stomach while he’s trying to work in his office.

His kitten is a distraction, but she’s a welcomed distraction.

Caleb

MC decides to stay with Caleb in Skyhaven while recovering from the curse.

Of course, we already know he would take care of her so she wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

They would watch movies while cuddling on the couch, and MC would follow Caleb everywhere around the apartment. He wouldn’t be able to even shower alone without MC being in the bathroom with him (not that he’d mind).

But watch out though. Caleb would keep his promise from the main story to put a bell on her so she couldn’t run away.

[parfaitblogs]

can I ask a blurb of post prison spencer and sunshine reader? She works in the BAU as the media liaison and when she rescues him in the episode 300 he looks at her and is like angel? Am I in Heaven?

spencer reid x sunshine!reader. fluff/hurt/comfort. also angst if you squint. i should’ve just slapped smut in here to make it a quinfecta! 0.5k words. gn!liaison!reader. set during '300'.

a/n: thank you for sending me back into orbit by getting me to rewatch those two episodes. i need spencer reid biblically. unfortunately that's not what this blurb is about. but i was audibly barking every time i pictured him. i am terribly sorry for keeping you on edge about when this was going to be posted </3 i wasn’t sure how happy i was with it for the longest time. thank u for the request ♡

spencer reid who accepted his fate the second he was taken hostage. because honestly, the likelihood of his team finding and rescuing him in time was slim to none, and he had lost wars to hope too many times before.

spencer reid who tried to stall his death with a speech, trying to dull the uncomfortable ache in his chest thinking nobody was coming to save him. maybe he could lie his way into believing his team had found him, and he would picture their faces before he inevitably died.

spencer reid who definitely did not expect the awfully loud gunshot — one, then two — ringing throughout the air, followed by panic and yelling. who wished he could've been relieved to see each face of his team slowly appearing in his view, followed by more gunshots, and the promise that he was safe.

he had already accepted death. 

but, spencer reid who's entire facade changed the second you came into view. no gun in hand, because you never were expected to need one, which was even more horrifying to him than the fact that he had been milliseconds away from his own death.

spencer reid who stared at you like he was but a planet and you were the sun he was orbiting, something he knew he'd get teased for later. but right now you were here and he was watching you attempt to unbuckle each leather strap holding his limbs into place, strained laughter escaping him every time you failed because your hands were shaking so hard.

spencer reid who's face fell when you finally met his gaze to get the leather strap holding his head in place, and he could see the tears brimming your eyes and he could hear the sniffles you were intaking to keep your emotions at bay. an achingly painful contrast to the facade he was used to seeing on you.

spencer reid who asked "what's wrong?" and who's heart ached when your response was "i thought i was going to lose you". spencer reid who's heart probably shouldn't have then stuttered like that in his chest at your admission, and he definitely shouldn't have allowed the rush of hope at your words.

but, worse than that, he realised he had accepted his death without thinking, and if he died, he was leaving you and perhaps that was worse than any situation he has been in before, in all fifteen years he's at the bureau.

and you, who's vision was awful from the tears you were attempting to keep at bay, yet you stared at him for a beat, taking in every graze and bruise on his face the best you could to commit them to memory, before wrapping both arms around him and pulling him into you. spencer reid who sobbed in your arms; a scenario you had never even considered the possibility of because spencer reid did not cry anymore, and prison had fractured him in ways you cannot even begin to comprehend. but he was here, and he was crying again, and sad sight or not, he was feeling.

spencer reid who thanked you over and over again for finding him, because no, he really didn't want to die. 

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡