#And he doesn’t owe us anything especially when it comes to what he’s comfortable with showing people

[supercutszns]

a place with you; luke castellan

wc: 2.8k (got a little carried away whoops)

pairing: luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side, even after you’re claimed.

warnings/notes: shy reader going through a tough time, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses, fluff, potential ooc luke i don’t know what i’m doing, most of this is prob inaccurate lol, i got wayyy too attatched to this i am sorry, title inspired by dragon eyes by adrianne lenker

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s used to delivering, passing things along, letting them enter his life and leave him. Sometimes it makes him angry. At his father, at the world, at himself.

So when you passed through the Hermes cabin for the inevitable few weeks before getting claimed by your Godly parent, the last thing Luke expected was for you to stay.

When you first got to camp you were terrified. Luke remembers that much. He can still picture you in Chiron’s towering shadow as he led you up to Hermes cabin. He gave you the usual spiel about the cabin, the land of the unclaimed, but it clearly hadn’t quelled your nerves. You were wringing your fingers together when Luke first spotted you, your eyes blown wide in what he knew as shock and a sort of . . . grief. For a life you’d left for what Luke knows as a life you’d never really have. He’d seen it in so many campers before you. He’d see it many times after.

“This is Luke, Hermes’ head counsellor and one of Camp Half-Blood’s finest,” Chiron pointed him out to you at the entrance. After Chiron introduced you, Luke held your name in his memory. Not because there was anything particularly intriguing about you at first, to be honest, because he’d seen a lot of people like you that needed help settling in (although maybe not many his age). It was harder for some people to adjust than most. He knew that better than anyone.

“Nice to meet you,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake after Chiron left. “I’m Luke.”

You sniffed, shaking it without looking at him. You were so, so embarrassed. This whole time you’d been too stupidly overwhelmed to process anything. Why was this so hard for you? Was it this hard for everyone? “Hi,” you managed, and that was it.

Now, weeks after your first meeting, you’ve concluded that it was not, in fact, this hard for everyone. The camp is crowded but full of life. You’ve never seen more happy kids in your life. There’s a sense of community on the wind.

So why can’t you feel it? Why is it so hard to connect with people? To participate in the fun? Everywhere you look there’s people but it’s all just so . . . lonely. You don’t fit. You’re lost.

Luke wakes up at night when the cabin door creaks open. He’s already tossing, so it’s no surprise he catches it. Unfortunately, he’s supposed to be a good counsellor—sneaking out at night is against the rules, and you’ve gotta reign the strays back in before they cause a ruckus. Sure, Luke’s not exactly a stickler for the law, but the least he owes is to make sure everyone’s safe.

Groaning, he draws himself out of the comfort of his bunk but doesn’t get far when he spots a familiar silhouette slipping out the door. He knows it’s you. He’s been hearing crying at night, and this is confirming his suspicions. It makes him ache in a million different places. Every time he thought about approaching you he shut himself down almost instantly, because who the hell wants some random guy coming up to them in the middle of the night and drawing attention?

This time, though, he’s a little worried.

It’s chilly tonight but not too bad, especially when you’re huddled up in a ball on a hill in front of the lake, grass tickling your ankles. Your tears keep you warm.

It’s a sorrow that feels bottomless. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You don’t know why everything’s so hard.

There’s a scuffling of shoes, and your name is carried to you on the heels of a breeze. Oh God. There’s someone else here.

You sniff and smear your tears on the palms of your hands the best you can but a little part of you only wants to cry more now that you’re all anxious, and you only have a few seconds to collect yourself before you turn around and see Luke, your cabin leader, with furrowed brows. “Oh, h-hi, Luke.” It’s hard to ignore the splinter in your voice. You curse yourself a thousand times.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel entirely exposed. “You, uh, you know you’re not technically supposed to be out here, right?”

You start to scramble to your feet with an apology on your tongue but surprisingly he laughs, a gentle sound, and beckons you to sit back down. “No, no, I’m not gonna get you in trouble or anything, just . . . letting you know.”

It’s uncertain if you should keep sitting, but you decide to because well, you’re already down here, and things can’t go lower than this. Luke comes to sit next to you and you stare out into the sea like your life depends on it. “Wanna talk about why you’re out here?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Luke sighs, scooting a little closer to you. “Most people don’t up and leave in the middle of the night because they’re having a great time.”

The answer is too hard to say so you don’t reply.

Again, Luke sighs, and you try not to look at the shadow the moon casts on his admittedly handsome face. “It’s hard settling in, I know. It happens to a lot of people. I’ve . . . I’ve seen a lot of them, and it doesn’t get any easier.”

“Well it sure seems easier,” you snap, and your self-control flies away before you can stop it. “I have no idea why I can’t just suck it up and fit in here. Everyone seems so happy and it’s driving me nuts because I’m just so confused on why I can’t—why I can’t—process any of it.” Tears burn your eyes. “I’m just miserable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

In the corner of your view, Luke’s face falls. “I’m your guide, you know that, right? I can help you.”

You sniff, embarrassingly pathetic. “I know.”

He comes even closer. “So why didn’t you ask?”

“Because I—I don’t know, you’re busy all the time with all the people in there, so I’m sure your job’s already stressful as is, so—”

“My job is to help you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what I signed up for. If you need something, I’m the one to ask.”

“I’m not sure you signed up for me crying like a baby,” you swallow, the ripples of the lake blurring together. “I mean, I’m like, older than half the kids here, and they’re all so much better than me. I’m not good at a—anything, and I’ve tried it all, and nobody’s claimed me yet, and I feel so weird and old and alone and . . .” It’s too much to think about so you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping the sting wards off the thoughts. “What if I’m nothing? Why am I here?”

You’re crying again, hiccuping into your hands. Shame sears into you. Luke’s arm curls around your shoulders and you realize how cold you are when he’s warm, so warm, and you want to cry even harder. You don’t even know him, but it’s the most tenderness you’ve received in what feels like years. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs, rubbing your arm with his other hand. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to heed him. His hand catches your cheek and you can’t bear to pull away. Something strange rustles in your stomach.

Luke’s taught instinct when faced with situations like these is to reassure that the Gods always have a plan. But he doesn’t feel like much of a liar tonight. Both his hands steady your face towards his, your skin damp and cold beneath his thumb. “It's not your fault. It always takes a little bit of time for people to get claimed, it’s never . . . well, you can never tell.”

“What if I don’t get claimed?” You say it so quiet you can pretend it was imaginary.

His eyes crinkle at the sides when he says, “Well, Hermes’ll always have a place for you.”

I’ll, Luke wants to say, I’ll. His father is not responsible for his cabin’s kindness.

“No one really prepares you for how overwhelming this is,” he continues, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Your vision is clearer now, and Gods, he is handsome, isn’t he? Even when his eyes are forlorn. “It’s harder in a way when you’re older. More to leave behind. Less to look forward to. It’s easier when you have a friend. Or a great cabin head.” He tilts his head with a faint smile, “Lucky for you, I’m both.”

It almost makes you laugh, and that’s enough. “It’ll get easier,” he promises softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s hard to keep his gaze, so you blot at your eyes with your hands as Luke gently slides his off your face. “Thank you. Sorry for, um, all that. And the crying.”

He chuckles, “Don’t even worry about it.” You watch him rise in the throes of starlight. He offers you a hand. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks after pulling you up, and you sheepishly nod your head. He tosses you a sweater he’s been wearing, and it smells like firewood. Nostalgic, in a way. “I’m gonna poke around for some tea. Wait for me back at the cabin.”

Before he leaves, he squeezes your arm and that thing happens again in your stomach. “No need to be embarrassed, by the way. You can come to me anytime. I’m probably less busy than I look.” As he walked away, he added, “And don’t worry about the crying. You’re pretty either way.”

Either way. The tea doesn’t seem important anymore because your face is on fire.

Time reveals that Luke is right. He is a great cabin leader and a friend, and it’s hard to tell which he’s better at. You fall in with him right away. Soon enough, you’re drawn into your new life, so slowly you barely realize it’s happening. The days get shorter and you start wishing they were longer. The nights get easier. And when they’re not, Luke tucks you into his bunk and folds you in his arms until you drift off. You pick up a bow. A sword. Luke tells you to straighten your shoulders with a hand on the small of your back, and you swear it always lingers. You braid garlands of carnations for your cabin mates and they wear them with pride. It’s warm, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and things start to feel like home.

Until you’re claimed.

Now you’re a ghost in Hermes cabin, another empty bunk to be filled, and Luke stares at it until he can remember every last detail of what it looked like when it was yours. A beautiful, gentle daughter of Demeter, no longer in arms’ reach. He should’ve seen it coming.

He sees you with your siblings all the time. You’re so happy and he envies it. You belong there, he knows that, the way your face lights up at the dinner table and how you giggle when your half-sister presents you a flower. But sometimes your eyes wander, and something inside them dulls, until you look at him, too.

Luke’s place at camp is to be nothing but a funnel for lost campers to find their home. He’s a temporary stop in everybody’s journey. He’d made peace with it a long time ago. But here you are, messing it all up, because you still don’t leave him.

You beg him to give you another sword-fighting lesson. You sit next to him at bonfires. You pick him for partner camp activities. It doesn’t matter how many younger boys want to latch onto him for guidance—he sees you heading towards him, and he can’t imagine choosing anyone else.

But you’re always whisked away by your siblings, separated at meals and in sleep and in activities so it’s never, ever enough. Why did he delude himself into thinking you’d stay forever?

After weeks of distance from you, he’s elated when you have even a fraction of a conversation. “Hey, Luke!” You call out to him, and he finds you instantly. You’ve broken away from your siblings to get to him.

“Hey,” he smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look too pleased.

You lean a little towards his ear, and you smell like every wonderful thing in the world. “Can we hang out tonight? On the hill?” You’re a little bashful when you say it and it’s entirely endearing. Even now, you’re still so unsure. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he says almost instantly, and it makes you look less nervous. “Yes. Absolutely. But don’t get caught breaking curfew now, you hooligan.”

Someone calls your name and you give a curt, playful nod. “Yes sir, camp counsellor sir!” He carries your laugh close to his heart until night falls.

You’re already there when he arrives, a vision in the moonlight before he even sees your face. “Hey, angel.”

When you turn around you look flustered. He won’t pretend like it doesn’t flatter him. “H—hi, uh, hello.”

There’s a moment where the world is still. The two of you, alone, for the first time in ages.

He sits down next to you, and it’s like the first time all over again. You get to talking, about your days, your anecdotes, your cabins. The strangeness of it all. “It’s so weird waking up in the morning and not having you yapping in my ear,” you remark, and he teasingly pushes your shoulder.

“Well, one of us has to be the talker, and it’s clearly not you,” he retorts.

You fiddle with blades of grass between your fingertips, weaving them together. “I’ll have you know I had a cabin-wide conversation about Capture The Flag yesterday, and I contributed greatly.”

“Oh, really?” He grins, knocking your elbow to steal your attention. “Look at you, coming out of your shell. I’m so proud.”

It’s hard to hold his gaze for more than a second. You’re afraid you’ll do something stupid if he keeps looking at you like that, but you almost want to. “Oh, shut up.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m serious. I’m proud.” His eyes rake over your face. “You’re flourishing. You found your place.”

You can’t stop yourself from saying, “I kind of miss my old one.”

There’s a way he studies your expression that makes you feel utterly helpless. You wish you could dish it back to him, but you know you just look awestruck whenever you stare at him for so long. He’s quieter when he replies, “I miss it, too. A lot. Sometimes, I—” His face scrunches up like he just tasted something sour. “Nevermind.”

Frowning, you prod, “What? What is it?”

He sighs and turns to the horizon. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him struggle. “Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t been claimed. Sorry, that’s . . . that’s awful, I know.”

His surprise is evident when you say, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.”

He turns back to you. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, staring at the beads on his necklace. “You’re the only reason I’ve adjusted here at all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“It’s true. And I miss you.” A few months ago you would’ve kicked yourself for saying this. But Luke has a way of inspiring confidence in people.

“I miss you, too. So much.” He gently prys the grass you’ve been weaving out of your hands, now a small necklace. “But look at how talented you are. I’ll tell you, I’m lucky you’re still sticking around. For most people, Hermes is touch-and-go.”

Luke leans forward to tie the garland around your neck, and your pulse picks up. “This isn’t about Hermes, Luke,” you try to be firm but it comes out soft. “It’s about you.”

His hands stop fiddling and rest on your neck. When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. And you have no idea that he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. “What’s about me?”

It’s not fair, your inability to string sentences together only worsens right when a beautiful boy is this close to you. “Hermes isn’t—it’s not special because of your father, it’s special because of you.”

There is nothing else you can possibly think of saying with the way his fingers trace up your neck and hold your jaw. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “The only reason anything in my life is special is because of you.”

You don’t know if it’s a lie or not; you don’t care. His nose nudges yours. There’s a moment where you wonder if this is as close to Elysium you’ll ever get. Then he slips a hand to the back of your neck and pulls you to his mouth.

He kisses you in a near fury, then when he knows you’re not going anywhere, it’s the gentlest thing you know. It’s hard to believe this is even happening. Your hands weave through his curls but he holds you steady, and thank the Gods for that because you’re pretty sure you’re melting. You kiss again, and again, and again, until you genuinely think you’re going to pass out and you have to pull away.

“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs when you can’t meet his eyes, a playful lilt in his voice. “Still so nervous.”

“Would you shut up?” You press your face into the crook of his neck with a huge smile.

He kisses the top of your head. “Love to, angel.”

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s supposed to believe he’s bringing the best of humanity to the Gods and glory above.

But screw the Gods. He’s keeping this one for himself.

[atrwriting]

more, more, more — carmy x reader

carmen berzatto x coworker!reader

listen to me. this man? this man?? so fucking slutty. so fucking slutty i can’t even think straight. i am absolutely AGHAST at how little writing there is of this man online. absolutely OUTRAGEOUS. he looks like that and none of us have done his character justice?? DISGRACEFUL.

i wrote this in direct response to how angry i am at how little there is.

as always, warnings… SMUT!, alcohol consumption, alcohol consumption with sex, smoking, p in v penetration, work relationships, overstimulation, carmen berzatto being an absolute mind blowing fuck on a table i mean in bed

also, minors fuck RIGHT the fuck off

barely edited we die like men

i stole that joke don’t come for me

anyway....

you didn’t really know how it happened.

you were once an unemployed law student, scared of drowning in bills, and eagerly awaiting a call back from anyone that would hire you — when she called.

natalie berzatto.

her voice was warm and comforting on the phone, and very eager to have you come in. she was relaying important information to you on the phone, and while you grabbed bits and pieces, it was hard to focus on anything else besides the sheer excitement of finally having a job. the job would be stressful, sure — but at least you wouldn’t be broke and stressed.

unfortunately, your first couple of shifts were a mess and a half. you took instructions well, and performed well, but in the hospitality business — that means nothing when an oven burner is out, a dishwasher doesn’t show up for a shift, richie starts barking, or when carmen’s upset.

carmen.

fucking carmen.

while soft spoken, there was nothing that could compare to the look of approval in his eye when you had completed a task to his standard. most people would consider the job of a hostess useless, or not a job at all — something to laugh at, but carmen? no. that man took your job very seriously, as he knew what it meant to provide the full experience to the customer.

however, when something was lacking in the kitchen and that experience was interrupted… carmen took the look of approval, almost gratefulness, away and replaced it with something that everyone felt like they had to walk around shards of glass.

when he was angry? oh, fuck… that could ruin anyone’s night.

the worst of it happened when his sister unexpectedly went into labor. two weeks early.

carmen had left the place screaming, and, in the process, had also left his things at the restaurant, including his jacket, wallet, keys, the lot — so to be nice you went to drop it off at his place. worried that he might be at the hospital, you texted him.

you: hey, going out for a drink. saw you forgot your stuff at the restaurant so i grabbed it because you’re otw. you home?

carmen: oh shit thanks. i’m home

so there you stood. at his front door, his stuff in hand.

you quickly adjusted your long hair, worried about your appearance. it was weird to show up to carmen’s place in your regular attire — seeing as though your regular attire on a night with your friends was black flare jeans, a tight black long sleeve v-neck that showed off your cleavage — you were concerned that he might be concerned with who he exactly employed. however, his niece was just born… he had more important things to worry about.

so you knocked.

and barely waited.

carmen was barely at the door a few seconds later before you came face to face with the man who constantly let exhaustion ride on his back.

“you good?” you immediately asked, handing over his stuff.

he nodded. “yeah, uh — thanks.”

“you look like you could use a drink,” you laughed. “want to come with?”

he shook his head, the corners of his lips somewhat curving upwards. “nah. day was hectic. you want one? come in — for a drink?”

you smiled. “i don’t want to intrude, especially after the berzatto family excitement of the day.”

“i owe you,” he sighed. “but don’t let me hold you up if your friends are waiting.”

you smiled. “one drink won’t hurt.”

one drink definitely did not hurt.

drink two and three definitely didn’t, either.

how much carmen made you laugh definitely made your stomach hurt, though. in a good way.

“you’re killing me,” you cackled. “who knew quiet carmen berzatto was such a good host.”

“you can call me carmy, y’know,” he spoke, saying his cigarette before pouring you another drink. “everyone else does.”

you shrugged. “you’re pretty professional in the kitchen. didn’t want to impose.”

“i don’t think you could impose a day in your life,” he chuckled. “i think you’re the only one that knows boundaries in that fuckin’ place.”

“says the mysterious one,” you giggled. “the only reason any of us know your nicknames is because richie likes to share your baby stories.”

“speaking of babies…” he took a drag. “thank you for helping sugar out so much. she told me to tell you how much she appreciates it.”

you shrugged. “‘s nothing.”

“nothing?” he scoffed. “you keep her sane. definitely keep me sane.”

“always got your back, chef,” you giggled.

he smiled, and ashed his cigarette once more. his long, thick fingers stretched around the circumference of his glass. one fingertip tapped against the glass and a few droplets of condensation fell to his countertop.

you were twisted around in your seat to face carmen, eyeing his attractive hands. in your peripheral vision, you saw him lift his head to cock it towards you and stare at you. the longing look sent shivers up your spine, but you gazed at him through your long lashes as you waited for his response.

“you do,” he spoke. “always have. we were lucky to find you. i - i was, i mean.”

“more like i was lucky get a call from natalie,” you laughed. “it’s so hard to find a well paying job nowadays.”

“heard,” he rasped. “you happy at the bear?”

“very,” you replied. “staff keeping you happy, chef?”

he chuckled. “when i’m not made to scream, yeah.”

“that’s fair. we’re lucky to have you.”

there was only so many things you could think of to say to carmen before you began to consider that you were imposing. you slapped your hands against your thighs — a implicit signal it was time for you to go. he led you to the door, where he reached out for your coat. you smiled at him, thanked him for the drink, and slid your arms through the jacket as he held it out for you.

you don’t know what caused you to, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was you — or maybe it was how good carmen smelled — but you glanced up and over your shoulder at the polite man behind you.

you didn’t have anything to say. frankly, you said something last — it was his turn. however, carmen’s sense of societal expectations started and ended with the door to the kitchen. but there, by his front door? basically holding you by the shoulders, and staring back down at you? he had nothing to say.

however… his eyes could share a thousand things about him. more specifically, emotions. carmen’s eyes showed exhaustion, a bit of dehydration, to keep it a buck, but there was so much intensity in those crystal irises. they were a stunning, clear blue… but with the way carmen was gazing down at you, there appeared to be no clear thought in his head.

and he did nothing.

so you could do nothing.

you found yourself disappointed at his actions, or rather — lack thereof.

you simply smiled, and went to turn away. you reached for his door knob, when you felt the slightest brush of calloused fingers against the skin of your wrist. the feeling shocked you, pricking at your nerves, but you didn’t stop until you felt those fingers enclose around the circumference of your wrist.

like they had with the glass, moments ago.

you turned back, letting your long and thick eyelashes ghost over your line of sight. all you could see was a frozen chef, standing tired, but staring back at you.

when his gaze fell to the floor, you stepped closer. he glanced up.

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you softly asked, “what’s up, carmy?”

“first time i had someone over.” his parted lips closed so he could swallow, and his eyes drifted between your lips and the floor. the words were right there, on his tongue. they were so close you could feel them, taste them. he replied, “i, um… don’t want it to end, uh — i guess.”

you smiled and turned around in place, barely inches from his face. his breaths were pushing past his lips in small, light puffs that hit the tip of your chin. it was like he was conscious of everything he was emitting; his vibe, where he was looking, even his fucking exhales. he was cautious and frozen and all you wanted was for him to be relaxed, or as close to, as he was moments ago.

“already drank you out of house and home, carmy. what else you got in mind?”

his eyes widened, but his voice stayed level. “what else i got in mind?”

you hummed in agreement with a coy smile on your face. you folded your lip between your teeth and stepped backwards. carmy glanced at your hips and feet hesitantly, shifting his weight slightly. while his eyes were trained on you, his parted lips quivered slightly which told you that there was still some nervousness lingering in him. with every step you took, carmy took one as well. you kept stepping backwards, and carmy kept stepping forwards, until your back was pressed against the wall.

carmy’s lips weren’t slightly quivering anymore. there was no hesitation in his figure when he leaned down slightly and rested a flat palm against the drywall above your head. his breath was hitting you on both cheeks — as if they weren’t hot enough already. inside you were screaming. you were screaming, and screaming, and screaming and all you wanted to do was grab both sides of his face and smash your lips to his. you wanted to, but you wouldn’t. you wanted to see if he would.

“you know,” you spoke, raising your back. your cold palm pressed against his cheek. it was burning — almost as bad as yours. “even though you’re the boss… never seen you actually taste anything.”

“no?” he rasped. the gruffness in his voice pricked at your cheeks and went straight to your core. “and what do you want me to taste, sweetheart?”

you released your grip from his cheek and brought your hand down to your face. with a manicured nail, you tapped the plumpness of your bottom lip. you stared into his eyes — a dare.

“fuck.”

with his free hand, carmen wrapped your hand in his own and pressed it to the middle of his chest. he held it there, pressed against his heart, and surprisingly it was the exact spot you wanted to hold him. you wanted to hear — no, feel his heart that was beating slightly faster than normal. when carmen finally pressed his chapped lips against yours… you saw stars.

the alcohol coursing through your veins made you melt into the man before you. his hand on the wall slid down until he was rubbing the side of your neck, and then gripping the base of your skull. his fingers, his beautiful, skillful fingers threaded through your hair like it was one of his pieces of art and he was creating something. he twisted your strands until he had your head bent back, practically supported by the heavy palm of his hand. the motion made you gasp into his mouth. carmen swallowed it whole. every. last. bit.

“y’taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he moaned against your lips.

you hummed with him. the warmth of his body engulfed your body into his until the moment started and ended with carmen anthony berzatto. you could taste the liquor on his tongue that danced with your own. with every breath he took, bits of smoke would linger between the two of you. it went straight to your head, swallowing your senses whole. you didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the cigarettes, or carmen himself, but you felt like you were swimming.

“this okay, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling away for a second. a thumb of his stroked the skin of your cheek as he stared at you, waiting for feelings of regret from you. “d-do you want me to stop?”

“please don’t stop, carmy,” you gasped, pulling him back into. “you’re perfect.”

you didn’t expect that would make carmen slide his hands down your body and grasp the back of your thighs. his fingertips pressed into your skin, pulling your legs up and around his waist. you squealed against his teeth and couldn’t believe you had found yourself in this situation.

it’s not that carmen wasn’t handsome, no. the man was drop dead gorgeous in a tortured artist way, and you always had a thing for men that looked like they needed a hug but wouldn’t admit it. but… he was your boss.

what could you do about that? it’s not like you could stop now. even if you had told him to stop, got your shit and left — the damage was done. you both had crossed the boundaries, and you were going to reap what you sewed.

in that case… might as well have a little fun with it.

he had placed you on a neighboring table. his large hands gripped the flesh of your thighs and you couldn’t help but whine into his embrace. his tongue glided over your lips and teeth and with your tongue in the messiest way possible and all you could chant in your head was more, more, more.

and that’s when you found yourself pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt.

he stepped back slightly, throwing his shirt over his head. his swollen lips were parted, and his eyes searched your face. you found your chest rising and falling with anticipation, and realized you should’ve been more concerned with how he was dealing with all of this.

“you okay, carmy?” you whispered.

he nodded, letting a few fingertips of his ghost over the skin of your cheek. his crystal eyes glanced down to your lips.

“we can stop, you know,” you whispered again. “it’s okay.”

he nodded again before dipping his head down to the side of your neck. his plump lips left wet kisses on the sensitive skin and you moaned into the open air. you widened the space between your knees, allowing for carmen to wedge himself between your thighs.

“you’re always talking such good care of me, sweetheart, so good to me,” he rasped against your throat, sucking on the skin. “but all i want to do right now is have my fingers inside you. y’gonna let me?”

“yes, carmy,” you whined. “yes please.”

“such a polite girl f’me.” carmy’s mouth was attacking your throat. moans escaped passed your lips like carmy was squeezing them from you, claiming them. his fingers traveled down the front of your clothes and stopped at the button of your jeans. sliding it open, carmen berzatto slipped his perfect hands into your jeans.

“right there, please,” you gasped once his fingers found your bundle of nerves.

his fingers dipped into your core and spread it all over where you needed him most. warmth began to spread through your hips and your knees widened for him. his drew circles different ways until he noticed that when he drew counterclockwise circles, you bit your lip and your eyes appeared to involuntarily flutter shut. you felt carmy smirk against the skin of your neck.

“what made you this wet, baby?” he hummed, sucking at the base of your throat.

“you, carmy,” you whined. “felt it as soon as i saw you when i first walked in. needed you so badly.”

he smirked again. “so bringing my things wasn’t of the purest intentions?”

heat rose to your cheeks with the sensual actions that were taking place below the belt and carmy’s accusation. you grew worried at what he would say if you said no, that you honestly just wanted to help him out… but if carmy wanted to play like that, you could play.

“n-no,” you whined as the pleasure began to spread throughout your whole body.

carmy was holding you so close to him. it was like he was your support — supporting you through such a physically vulnerable moment. your legs were practically shaking at this point, trying to take everything he was giving you and not start sobbing. you were grabbing at any piece of him you, wanting to kiss him — but he wouldn’t let you. fucking bastard.

“good,” he stated, staring you dead in the eyes. your mouth fell open at his response, a pant pushing passed your lips. “i don’t have the purest of intentions when i do this.”

carmen berzatto slid two long, thick fingers inside you ever so slowly. the motion pulled small moans out of you like you were a pathetic mess of a puddle and the sun rose and set with him. you felt his fingertips press against the upper wall inside you, while another finger worked at your clit, and all you could do was hold onto him tighter.

“it feels so good, carmy,” you whined. “i love your fingers so, so much.”

“yeah, baby?” he breathed against your ear. “you wanna cum f’me?”

“faster, please, i will,” you sobbed. you fucking sobbed as the tapping motion inside you hastened. “oh god — oh my fucking god —“

“that’s it, sweetheart? that’s what you needed?”

“yes, yes — fucking — fuck — yes.”

“f-fuck —“ he groaned broken, incoherent phrases against your throat. his breath was hot and heavy on your skin and all you could think about was how good he felt inside of you, and also how badly you wanted all of him inside you. interrupting your thoughts, he spoke, “show me how good it feels, baby. finish all over my fingers f’me.”

that broke you.

that fucking broke you.

it was like a shock of lightning hit you straight in your core and the power from the strike spread throughout your entire body. every muscle of yours went taut as you arched your chest into carmy’s.

with his expert hands, he fucked you through the orgasm. “that’s it, baby. that’s it. keep cumming for me.”

it was like carmen berzatto knew everything to say to make you shatter. you couldn’t even breathe — all you could do was give into the spreading feeling of bliss and hold your breath while it washed over you. it was wave, after wave, after wave of mind-numbing orgasm and carmen held you through all of it.

“pretty girl.”

“i know, baby. you’re such a sweet girl f’me.”

“that’s it, sweetheart. take it.”

once the waves finished hitting you, your chest was rising and falling heavily. carmen peppered light kisses along your neck, being gentle as to your state, but you were having none of it. you reached for his belt.

“greedy.”

you smiled lazily at him. “any objections, chef?”

he smirked at you, letting his fingers ghost over your sensitive core. a shiver ran up and down your spine at the almost painful action. “be careful — or i’ll make you cum again.”

you knew he wasn’t joking. you let out a slight giggle before you dragged the zipper and his boxers down. freeing his cock, you pumped his shaft.

carmy was once dominantly kissing your neck and whispering mean things in your ear, but now he was using the crook of your neck to support his forehead.

“you have such a pretty cock, carmy,” you whispered in his ear. there was something so comforting about being intimate with a man where you both could be vulnerable, and you weren’t sure if you would ever let it go. you want him everywhere he would let you have him. “i don’t know if i want it in my mouth or inside me more.”

he chuckled at that, crooning back into your embrace when you would touch a very sensitive part of him. “dirty girl — you’re so fuckin’ evil.”

you were worried the friction was becoming too much for him, but you didn’t want to raise your hand to your own lips, so you swiped some of the juices from your core and used it to lubricate the skin of carmy’s cock. it was a quick motion — you didn’t think he’d notice, and plus his eyes were most likely closed.

but when he spoke, you froze.

“do-do that again.” his voice was rough with lust. “do that again for me.”

you were hesitant at first, but you decided to make a show of it. you slowly dragged two fingers up the length of your slit and rubbed a very slow circle around the circumference of your clit. you gasped at the sensitivity, slightly jumping at the touch.

“fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned, breath humid on your neck.

you smirked at his response and reached for his cock. your hand slipped along the smooth skin of his cock, drawing a deep groan from carmen. the poor man was so sensitive — almost aching from what giving everything he had to you previously felt like.

“so big, carmy,” you breathed. “so big and pretty.”

“y’know what would be prettier?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your jaw line. “watching you put it inside you. can you do that, baby?

you smiled at him devilishly. carmy’s hands shoved the rest of your jeans down your legs and flung them somewhere in the room. your pussy was aching — dripping for the man before you. the sensitivity had left you, no longer prickling at your nerve endings. all that was left was the want for more — anything carmy had to give you.

“please,” you whined, rubbing the head of his cock against your glistening folds.

“i love when you beg f’me,” he groaned. “such a good fuckin’ girl.”

both of your lines of sight drifted down to the view of your hips. you both watched in awe as you lined carmy up with your entrance as he pushed his hips towards you.

the throws of passion and want for carmy were intense, sure — but so was the want to enjoy this while he could. he pushed in the tip of his cock, groaning slightly as your tight hole encased him. you whines at the barely filled feeling — so empty, needing more. carmy, however? carmy didn’t care. he wanted to feel every push and pull of your muscles between your hips.

carmy kept his eyes turned down at your pussy and you swallowed more and more of him inside you. he gripped the flesh of your waist, fingertips digging into you. your own hands were splayed our flat against the cool countertop of the table — a direct juxtaposition of the boiling feeling that electrified the top of every inch of your skin. you whined as carmy took his time with his thrusts, pulling back every so often when he felt resistance, and then pushing back in ever so slightly, yet slightly farther, each time.

“please, more,” you gasped, folding your lip between your teeth. “i want all of you.”

“baby isn’t patient, huh?” he asked, continuing with his motions. “gotta have it all, when you want it?”

“i can’t be teased right now,” you sobbed. it was pathetic how needy you were, but fucking christ did it turn carmy on.

“this what you want, baby?” he asked, pushing into you deeper.

your walls were squeezing him like he was the only thing that existed to you. the burn at your entrance was something so bittersweet, something so delicious — you didn’t know how you were going to keep control and make this special for him as well, let alone how you weren’t going to cum right then. but you didn’t care — you didn’t have the strength to care.

“yes, carmy — please,” you begged, bucking your hips into him weakly. “fuck — your cock feels so good.”

“yeah, baby?” he pressed into deeper. “so impatient you can’t handle it slow?”

“i want you to fuck me, carm,” you bit with lust dripping from every word. “fuck me — use me however you want — please.”

fuck.

that set him off.

carmy was a patient and low maintenance man, sure, out of necessity and convenience mostly. however, when he had the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, with a dirty mouth to match, talking back to him, and begging him to be selfish?

fuck patience. fuck ease. and fuck being selfless.

carmen’s grip tightened on your waist, and he pushed the last parts of his cock inside you.

it immediately hit you right where you needed him — that soft, sensitive spot so deep that barely anyone before him could dream of reaching. your walls gripped the smooth skin of his cock and you screamed. you fucking wailed when he finally pounded into you painfully, but so fucking sweetly.

“dirty — fucking — girl,” he grunted, thrusting upwards into your pussy.

there was nothing like the sight of carmy finally taking what he wanted. no expression of shame, or guilt, or hesitation on his face — just a man, slightly bent over before you, inside of you, holding you so close to him because, in that moment, you could give him what he wanted — needed. and, in that moment, all he needed was you.

the side of his face was pressed against yours, breathing heavily into your ear. the few groans he let escape his throat were guttural — almost animalistic. they went straight to your core, practically flooding around his cock. your whines of pleasure forced his hips forward and back faster and harder with each motion. balancing your weight and carmy’s with a firm hand of yours behind you on the table, you clamped your free hand on the back of his neck. you twisted a few stray strands of his hair around your fingers, tugging at them. every thrust caused you to pull his hair, him, closer and harder into you.

“laythefuckdown,” he spat, to your surprise.

the command startled you, sure — but it also made you bite your lip in anticipation. he pressed a wet, heavy kiss to your cheek, throwing butterflies in your lower stomach, as you released him. before you could lay down, he stopped you.

“you want to give me what i want, baby?” he whispered against your lips.

you nodded, gazing at him with dark, lust filled eyes.

“then i want your pussy to finish around my cock,” he stated. “think you can do that f’me?”

“y-yeah,” you replied, shakily, but full of trust.

you laid down and carmy regained his footing at the end of the table, keeping his cock pressed firmly inside you as he stood above you. his cock twitched against your most sensitive spot inside you, and you whined at the new angle. he gripped one of your hips firmly, but let his other hand ghost up your glistening lips.

“such a pretty fucking pussy,” he rasped, gazing at it. “takes my cock so well. but right here…”

he pressed his thumb against your clit.

you would’ve jumped if his hand wasn’t keeping you locked to the table.

“this is what i want,” he spat. “so fucking pretty.”

he began rubbing rough, fast circles on your clit. your legs were shaking from the overstimulation, and you thought you could cry from the sensation. your back arched off the table, and your hands struggled to find something to grip — to balance you as carmy tortured you.

but then his cock started working itself back into you again, hitting that spot that needed him so badly.

“think you can cum like this, baby?” he asked, taunting you. “be a good girl for me, yeah?”

“yes — !” you groaned, reaching for the end of the table with one hand. grabbing it, you tried to steady yourself, but it was no use. not with carmy. “fuck — it’s so much — it’s too much carmy —“

“gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”

you threw your head up to stare at the man. he was rocking into you like that was the only thing he knew, fucking you like it was the only thing he wanted, but there was so much focus on his eyes. so much focus on you.

“gonna give me what i want?”

“yes, yes,” you were nodding your head so pathetically, so sweetly for him. tears were practically threatening to spill over the corners of your eyes, but they glistened at him, and only him, and god did it fuck with him. “please, carmy — let me cum for you.”

“do it,” he ordered. “fuck, baby — cum for me.”

your hips were bucking against his pelvis and his hand, too erratic for him to be precise like he wanted to. you were chasing his fingertips, chasing the orgasm that even in his selfish state he was so generous to give. whines left your throat involuntarily as the intensity in your lower abdomen grew, and grew, and grew. your eyes were screwed shut as you pushed yourself to your elbows, holding yourself up as you couldn’t help but curl into yourself. carmen may have been looking at you, or something else — it didn’t matter. all you saw was the black of your eyelids, until is was white.

white. pure white.

your finger nails dug into the meat of your palms as the heat spread from your womb to the entirety of your body. every nerve ending and hair rose to the highest point of height they could, and you held your breath. the feeling of immense pleasured you washed over you — wave after wave, after wave, after wave. it hit you, it crashed into you, it fucking drowned you — it swallowed you whole until you were gasping for air. your orgasm was violent — practically mine splitting. you were shaking. you were sensitive beyond belief, beyond repair — and the prickling feeling wouldn’t stop. you were gasping for air as you looked down, only to find carmy’s hand still working between your thigh.

still rubbing those fucking circles.

“c-carmy,” you sputtered, tears wet in the corner of your eye. “please — i c-can’t.”

“shhh,” he whispered. “just keep cumming, baby. just keep cumming for me.”

your chest split open at that, throwing you back against the table top. shivers went up and down your spine as you took carmy’s torture.

“that’s it, baby. that’s it.”

his words were music to your ears as you screamed for him.

“ohh, fucking shit — that’s it —“ he hissed. “just like that. take it all for me — oh, fuck.”

you were dazed and confused on carmy’s table, basically seeing stars. absolutely useless, fucked out beyond words. you felt the weight and warmth of carmy’s body lean over, and rest against yours, as his hips sloppily rocked into you.

you wrapped your legs around the middle of carmy’s back, locking him in place. one hand went to clamp on the back of his head, and the other pressed against the side of his cheek.

against his lips, you whispered, “cum for me, carmy, please. i want to feel you inside of me.”

“good — fucking —“ he grunted, pressing his lips to yours in a farm, hard kiss as he shook. carmy’s tongue shoved itself into your mouth, and down your throat. carmy was everywhere — so deep in every part of you. you hummed with each moan of his you swallowed, rocking your hips against his and rocking him through his orgasm. gasps left his lips as he gripped any part of you he could, doing anything he could to hold onto you and keep you in place.

“holy f-fucking shit,” he gasped against your cheek, pressing kisses to your cheek and the length of your neck. “that — that was — it was so —“

“i know,” you spoke, giggling slightly.

carmy laid his head against your collarbone and you weaved his wet curls around your fingers. he rested fully against you, completely relaxed.

“fuck your friends,” he mumbled. “stay here tonight — as long as, um — you want to, that is.”

your giggle hummed in your chest. carmy’s confidence leaving him in the middle of the sentence surprised you slightly, but not enough to leave you unamused. “‘m not imposin’?”

he chuckled at that, and pulled you up from the table and into his arms. "fuck off."

-----

lmk what you think :) love yall -L

[linorachas]

morning was made. | bang chan

ᦈ pairing — bang chan x reader

ᦈ genre — fluff, established relationship

ᦈ word count — 1.6k

ᦈ this was posted on ao3 loooong ago and i forgot i never posted it here lol. wrote this in 30 mins as a warm-up to get back into writing so it might be a lil over the place sorry ㅠㅠ no plot whatsoever just vibes in chan's arms

♬ now playing: morning was made (hush kids)

When you wake up, there’s a koala by the name of Bang Chan hanging off you.

The sun has barely risen, but the sky is painted a light blue which tells you that the morning was about to come. You blink blearily, barely even awake, but the puffs of Chan’s warm breath on your neck tickled and the grip he had on your waist was getting just a tad bit too tight.

“Chan,” you groan quietly, wiggling, but his hold on you doesn’t budge. If anything, it just tightens.

Chan grunts at your constant prodding, lips already pursed into a pout even though his eyes are still squeezed shut. His curls brush against your cheeks when he moves even closer.

“Chan, oh my god,” you laugh, slightly more awake now. You rub the sleep off your eyes, mentally planning how to escape from your boyfriend’s death clutch. “Baby, you gotta let me breathe.”

You manage to wiggle an arm free, using it to slide your hand through Chan’s hair and scratch at his scalp while continuing your calls. You were hoping this was enough to gently wake him up, but it seemed to do the opposite, because Chan just snores. Loudly.

So with no other option left, you tug. Hard.

“Ah!” Chan yelps, jerking his face away from your neck, yet his arms still don’t move an inch. He whines, eyes squinted. “Ow, Y/N, what was that for?”

You bite back a smile at his puffy face. “Let me move, please. I’m sure we’re both stiff from being in the same position for so long.”

You had both passed out early in the evening last night, exhausted after a day’s worth of activities. It was rare that the boys had a day off, much rarer when they could spend it with you, so you all made the most of it and jam-packed your day yesterday.

And as much as you all wanted to stay awake, the boys had a schedule today, and you were kind of dead on your feet. So by 9 pm, the lights were out, and you and Chan had crawled into each other’s arms and slept like babies.

But your early bedtime didn’t seem to be enough, because Chan stubbornly refused to open his eyes, even as he pushed his head into your palm. You soothe the pain in his scalp with the pads of your fingers when he whines again, and you apologize quietly with a kiss to his cheek.

This finally gets him to move though. Chan lies on his back, arms slipping away from your waist so he could stretch. You copy his movements too, mostly stretching your now free limbs, but you yelp when Chan pulls you back in his arms with a simple tug to the wrist.

He slides an arm under your neck this time, pulling you close by the shoulder. Weak as ever, you melt into his embrace easily.

Chan sighs after a while, eyes still closed. “W’time issit?”

“Early.” You lean up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, to which he makes a noise at and snuggles closer. “Back to sleep.”

Chan makes an incoherent noise as a reply, and you watch fondly as his breath evens out in just a few minutes. Soon enough, he was back to snoring.

You envied that a bit, though. Once you were up, it was hard to get back to sleep. Even when sleep begged to pull you back to dreamland, your eyes still droopy, you didn’t want to waste the day, especially right now when getting a moment alone with Chan felt like it could only happen once in a blue moon.

So you were content to watch the rise and fall of your boyfriend’s bare chest, his steady heartbeat heard clearly from where your head was resting against his pec.

This, you think faintly, will always be better than a good dream.

But in the end, you still doze off. Chan’s warmth was lulling you to sleep, and you were helpless to the comfort that he provided. Your body was too relaxed to not succumb to the shackles of sleep, because you knew that here, in Chan’s arms, you were safe. There was nothing in the world that could hurt you and take you away from him right now.

When you wake up again, the sky is yellow, and you are still in Bang Chan’s arms.

You sigh, too content and warm and happy in your position. But you could hear some bustling outside— most likely Minho who tended to wake up early on days with a schedule— so you knew it was time to get up, no matter how much you wanted to stay in bed.

Chan’s grip on you was looser than it was last time, but it was you who didn’t want to move. You were far too comfortable and the kitchen was too many steps away and preparing food was going to take too long, but then-

Pots bang outside. Silence, then a muffled argument. You hide a snort in Chan’s collarbone.

Yeah. It was time to get up.

Speaking of Chan, he continues to snore away, legs tangled in yours as he clutches you to his chest. With a sigh, you gently squirm out of his hold, pressing a kiss to his chest as you begin to sit up. You stretch your legs with a groan, mentally preparing yourself for the cold now that you didn’t have Chan basically burritoed around you. You set a foot down on the floor, ready to leave-

-but then an arm wraps tight around your waist, dragging you back down on the bed with a tug.

Chan huffs against your neck. “Where’re you goin?”

You startle. “Have you been awake this whole time?”

“Nah.” Chan mumbles, but then pulls back to look at you suspiciously, puffy eyes narrowed. “Why? Were you doing something suspicious?”

“Yes,” you snort, but don’t elaborate further. Chan squawks when you try to get out of his hold again, and you half-groan and half-laugh when he refuses to budge. “Yah, let me go. I need to cook breakfast. Our kids are gonna wake up and start throwing tantrums soon.”

It’s silent for a moment, and you would have thought Chan had fallen back asleep if it wasn’t for the smile you felt pressed against your skin.

You blink. “What?”

“Our kids?” Chan repeats, and you flush a bright red.

“Yeah, well-“ You splutter, caught off guard. “Ou-our kids are gonna starve soon if you don’t let me out of this bed.”

Chan just shakes his head, messy hair flying everywhere. “Minho’s old enough to cook now.”

“And Minho’s going to break down this door and drag you both out of bed to help him cook if you don’t get up in the next minute!”

You and Chan startle at the voice just outside the door, unmistakably Minho’s. You both gape at the door.

“Were you just standing there and listening to us, you creep?!” Chan exclaims, and Minho scoffs.

“I was on my way to wake you so we can eat, but I had to stop and listen first lest I open this door to see your cock and balls-“

“Okay!” You scream, interrupting Minho before he could go on any farther.

“Two minutes!” Minho shouts from outside the door, banging it on twice for good measure. “And no funny business! Keep your dick in your boxers, Bang Chan!”

You feel your face heat up as you hear scandalized shouts from outside— a sharp “it’s six am! Six! ” from Jeongin, a cut-off “He’s getting some this earl-“ from Hyunjin— and protests from the others who have woken up as well.

Chan buries his squeaky laugh against your neck, shoulders shaking with laughter. You shove at his chest with a groan, though the corners of your lips are quirked.

He barely budges from your shove, but he pulls you close again like you’ve been separated. “Our kids are awake, it seems.”

“Awake and already this annoying. Let me go, Bang. I need to shove some food in their mouths to shut them up.”

Chan surprisingly relents at that, turning around abruptly and clutching the blankets to his bare chest. Cold air crawls up your arms, and you miss his warmth almost immediately.

“Fine.” You feel and hear Chan’s pout despite not seeing it, and you try in vain to suppress a grin. “Leave me here. Cold. And alone. I could die, you know. I guess you want me to die.”

You laugh, curling behind Chan’s back and sliding your hand up his chest, relishing in his shiver. “Come on, you big baby. Get up in five minutes and wake your other kids up. Long day ahead of you.”

You slip away after a prolonged kiss to Chan’s cheek, squeezing his bicep as you get up. You’re just opening the door when Chan says something unintelligible, making you halt.

“What was that?”

“Ours.” Chan repeats, and your heart skips. “Our kids.”

Though you knew he was teasing you for the slip, you still see the tips of his ears redden. The smile that blooms across your face this time can’t be stopped, and you’re positive your face is just as the same shade of tomato as his is, but you still tap the doorway, teasing.

“Five minutes then, daddy. Our kids are waiting.”

And like any unfortunate event, Hyunjin chooses to pass by at that exact moment, freezing in his tracks when he processes what he just heard. Your mouth snaps shut, and you close your eyes as you pretend the Earth swallows you whole. Chan peeks from behind the blanket and starts laughing.

“Oh my god. She does have a daddy kink!”

[elfyelation]

𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 | oneshot

pairing—astarion x m!tav summary—with the secrets of astarion’s past out in the open, tav wants to make sure he knows what he really wants. warnings—self-loathing, mentions of past abuse, mentions of past slavery, minor spoilers?, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort word count—1k rating—teen a/n—idk i just need more hurt/comfort fics because i'm down bad for the sad vampire boy

Camp was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that he could feel the thumping tremors of his heart as though they were cascading drums.

Tav lay in his tent alone, painfully aware of the conversation he was going to have to have tonight. Whether Astarion would even come to his tent, however, was another story entirely. He had expected him to do so, as he came most nights, but now that the torment of his past was out in the open, Tav couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever step past that threshold again. Part of him wasn’t even sure if he wanted him to. Not if he was only doing it out of habit, at least.

He was about to get out of bed to go find the Vampire himself until he heard rustling outside. Feather-light footsteps just barely crunching over leaves as someone finally approached.

Astarion ducked down into the tent, letting the tent flaps fall shut behind him. His snow-like skin almost glistened in the dim glow of candlelight as he stripped himself of his shirt and his eyes finally landed on the man before him.

“What is it, love? What’s wrong?” His head cocked to the side, his brows furrowing as he narrowed his eyes in questioning.

With a soft sigh, Tav crawled out of his bedroll and slowly walked over to the vampire. Without a word, he pulled him into a tight hug. Although the vampire was almost hesitant to return the embrace, his arms soon tentatively slipped around Tav’s slender waist.

As the unexpected embrace came to an end, the vampire found himself almost unconsciously following the heat of the body that left him. When his senses returned to him and his walls began to pull themselves back up, he took a step back. A step that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other.

It was now or never, Tav thought. This was a conversation they needed to have. The hug had been selfish, something he felt he needed to do because, despite everything, he was terrified it would be the last time he’d ever get to hold Astarion in his arms.

“You know I’d never make you do something you don’t want to, right?” he asked, hoping to convey his sincerity.

Astarion seemed almost taken aback by that statement but, with it, began to close the distance between them. “This is about my past, isn’t it? Darling, I thought we’d already crossed this bridge. I told you my sob story but that doesn’t mean anything has to change between us.”

There was a nonchalant way about him even now, especially now. It had always been hard to extract a genuine response from the vampire when it came to what he was feeling. He never had liked to show his vulnerabilities. And vulnerable he was, even if he hated to admit so.

Tav’s heart ached for him, yearned for him, but this was a conversation that had to be had. Even if it would be the end of what had been going on between them.

“Astarion,” he began again, his voice so soft, so gentle, “This… Us… I care about you, more than you know, but I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. I don’t want you to force yourself to do anything you don’t want to. You deserve more than that. You don’t have to force yourself to be with me like this if you don’t really want it. All I want is for you to be happy. Even if that means what we’re doing has to come to an end.”

His vermilion gaze softened when he realised what his companion was trying to say and he moved closer. “I do want this. You. I really do. I just… I don’t know how. I don’t know how to be with someone this way and not hate myself for it. Intimacy, touch… it just all feels so, so twisted, but I want this. I want you.”

It was no secret that the idea of someone actually caring for him and considering his feelings was a foreign thing to him. For two centuries he had been nothing but a pawn, an object used to lure victims back to his master and in all that time, his body had never once belonged to himself. He had never slept with someone because it was something he wanted to do. It had always been an order, a command. Now he had the freedom to choose who to give himself over to. Or not to give himself to anyone at all, if that was what he wanted.

What he wanted…

That sounded so strange to him. What did he want? He wasn’t quite sure but whatever he had with Tav… It was something he wasn’t quite ready to let go of.

“I feel safe with you,” he admitted, “It's just that being close with someone… It feels like I’m tainting them.”

What little distance was between them was no more as Tav reached out, taking his hand in his own. “We’ll figure it out together. We can take things as slowly as you want, there’s no rush. I’ll wait however long you need me to. The only thing that matters to me is that you’re happy, Astarion.”

The vampire smiled, his fangs just poking out from behind his pretty lips. “Happy? I like the sound of that. You know, I can’t remember the last time I actually felt happy but being with you… I want this. Though, it might take me a little while until I’m ready to…”

Tav smiled when he stepped closer still, their foreheads pressing together. “Baby steps, then?”

The vampire chuckled with a nod. “Baby steps.”

In that moment, Tav knew that despite the darkness that had shrouded him for so long, Astarion was willing to walk into the light. It would just take time and they had all the time in the world.

They slept together that night, in the same tent they had spent the night in many times before. This time, however, all they did was sleep in one another’s arms. One small first step. Tav could wait until he was ready and, even if that moment never came, this was enough.

[silverflqmes]

What about playing with oikawa, atsumu, osamu, kuroo and akaashis hair? Like...just pulling them on top and stroking their hair would be the most comforting shit ever😴

໒⦂ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖/ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑.

notes. hello anon! thank you so much for requesting, this is a really cute prompt oml<3 i hope i was able to do it justice :’) i wasn’t sure if you wanted drabbles or headcanons so i did a mix, enjoy!

genre. fluff + comfort

ft. tooru oikawa, atsumu miya, osamu miya, tetsuro kuroo, keiji akaashi

tw. implied to be post timeskip, so there might be spoilers if you haven’t read the manga!

gender neutral! reader.

     ➫    𝓞𝗜𝗞𝗔𝗪𝗔   𝓣𝗢𝗢𝗥𝗨   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ oh. he loves it so much.

⌗ always happy and willing to have you play with his hair! might tease you at first about it though.. i mean — come on. it’s tooru.

⌗ “see y/n-chan, all those long showers and amounts of conditioner are worth it in the end! fluffy hair doesn’t happen just like that!”

⌗ doesn’t really have a particular position he prefers. but, if there’s an opportunity for him to be able to watch volleyball matches while you play with his hair — then bingo

⌗ makes him sleepy though tbh so you do it when he doesn’t get his ass to bed

“tooru-san..” you murmured quietly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you made your way to the brunet, sliding onto his lap. “the bed feels cold without you.. are you almost done..?”

a chuckle left the setter’s lips as he turned the volume down a bit on the tv before placing your head on his shoulder. “that so? did you really miss your tooru-san that much?” he asked you softly, laughing at the whine that left your lips. it was enough to answer his question. “okay, okay.. i’ll tell you what — we cuddle here for a bit while i finish this set, since this match has two more sets..” he muttered before clearing his throat. “and then we’ll go in our room together, okay?”

you weighed his words, contemplating his suggestion before nuzzling into his neck, loosing a quiet breath. “you promise?”

“i promise.” the brunet confirmed, smiling softly as you got more comfortable on his lap, slipping one hand idly into his hair- an old trick you would use to either calm him down.. or in this case, serenade him.

tooru hummed at the action, aware of your true motives, but he couldn’t complain. he had his most favorite and beloved person in the universe clinging and cuddling him while running their fingers through his hair. and although it made him sleepy, he was on cloud nine.

“goodnight, y/n-chan.” he chuckled once he felt your fingers slow to a stop, rising from his spot on the couch to carry you back to your shared bedroom.

     ➫    𝓜𝗜𝗬𝗔   𝓐𝗧𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗨   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ he loves it a lot too!

⌗ atsumu is definitely the one to initiate the most in your relationship, so whenever you approach him first — oh, his heart soars.

⌗ but he teases you for it. why wouldn’t he? his dearest lover wants to be close and card their fingers through his hair!

⌗ “do my ears deceive me, y/n-chan? ya wanna play with my hair?? hold on lemme get my recorder so i can keep this on file-OW! DON’T PULL!”

⌗ playing with his hair honestly calms him down really easily, especially when he’s on edge from a game, argument with osamu, or whatever else might be bothering him in the moment. it just resets him a little :’)

“you okay, ‘tsumu?” you asked upon stepping into your shared flat, doggy bag in hand. “samu asked me to bring you this when i went to onigiri miya today after my shift.” you added softly, joining him on the sofa. “everything okay?”

the blond looked over at you for a moment before letting a huff out, shaking his head. “don’t wanna say. yer gonna think it’s dumb.” he grumbled back, sinking more into the couch while you blinked.

it couldn’t be that bad, right?

a sincere smile crossed your lips as you petted his head gently. “come on, ‘tsumu. you can tell me anything! i promise i won’t laugh or think it’s dumb.” you assured him, placing the food down before patting your thigh.

for a moment he looked you up and down, then at the food. perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to tell you.

he let out a breath before lowering his head onto your lap, feeling your fingers weave through his hair in such a soothing manner. he could never tire of it, and somehow, it made him less reluctant. “i was playin’ switch with shoyo-kun and bokuto-kun, when this tiny ass spider suddenly crawled onto the table and freaked the shit outta omi-kun.” an exasperated sigh. “so he took his cleaning solution and started sprayin’ all frantically.. which got onto the joycons.” he confessed, pointing to the envelope on the coffee table. “so i have to send them for repairs, meaning NO SWITCH THIS WEEKEND.”

silence.

“y/n-chan..?” he called out, looking up to see you shielding your mouth — from laughing. “YER LAUGHING?? TRAITOR!!”

“I’M SORRY I’M SORRY PFFT-”

     ➫    𝓜𝗜𝗬𝗔   𝓞𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗨   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ he likes it a lot! he’s on the neutral side with physical affection compared to atsumu, but doesn’t reject it lol

⌗ whenever you ask he’s always happy to oblige, loves feeling your hands in his hair, anyway. it relaxes him and just feels super good in general.

⌗ honestly takes him back to lunch time in high school under the trees, just laying on your lap while you ran your fingers through his hair.

⌗ doesn’t really say much when you play with his hair, he’s just got his eyes closed while you do it or is watching the cooking channel with you.

⌗ “should i make this for dinner tonight, or too much?” the answer is and always will be yes, because this man’s food is just<3

“hard day at work?” osamu asked from the kitchen, feeling your arms around his waist as you nodded against his back.

“something like that.” came your low sigh, followed by an annoyed grumble. “my boss gave me this really tough manuscript to edit.” ah, of course.

“did they now?” he asked, to show he was listening, and you hummed in agreement.

“sure did. i don’t get it, samu. they’d publish this piece of shit work, but not my story?? it’s preposterous.” you grumbled, pouting when your lover let out a laugh. what was so funny anyway? “hey!! don’t laugh! i’m genuinely irked by this!”

“sorry, love.” he chuckled a little, sliding the vegetables into the curry he was preparing before turning to kiss your head. “didn’t mean to laugh, just thought ya sounded a little cute there.” he responded, and it was true. you did sound adorable to him. “but you’ll find the right publisher someday, the world’s just not ready for yer book to destroy the market.”

you were reluctant at first with his words, but gave in, anyway. it was osamu miya, your everything. how could you possibly resist? “i suppose, i can wait a bit longer..” you agreed, albeit begrudgingly. “but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook!”

the gray eyes male rose a brow before turning the knob on low. “that so? well, what would i have to do to be off the hook?” he asked, placing one hand at your waist while the other cupped your cheek.

a grin spread across your lips before you slipped your fingers into his hair. “i think you know the answer to that.” and that he did.

    ➫    𝓚𝗨𝗥𝗢𝗢   𝓣𝗘𝗧𝗦𝗨𝗥𝗢   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ this man is so for it, he’ll literally be smirking like a cat who wants petting.. might even purr ( or moan ) as a joke..

⌗ you could honestly ask him whenever or he might just even approach you half the time tbh cuz he’s not even worried about getting his hair messed up ( i mean.. that bedhead is unmoving )

⌗ doesn’t really mind the time or place, but prefers being in bed since he can lay his head on your chest while you play with his hair; it’s just easier and more comfortable lol

⌗ “cut me some slack y/n-chan, i worked super duper hard today.. the all star team sure is high maintenance!” — says this when he was literally doing nothing but laughing his ass off from the sidelines while hajime was scolding all of them ( tooru and atsumu.. ) over an altercation.

⌗ once your fingers slide into his hair, tetsuro is not moving. got a shift today at work? you’re calling sick. got plans with your friends? consider them cancelled.

“oh?” tetsuro rose a brow, noting the ds in your hands, which had his suspicions rising. “dare i ask where you got that from?” he inquired, taking up the vacant spot on the bed as he leaned over your shoulder.

your eyes barely lifted from the screen as you hummed, directing your character to a save point before looking over at your lover with a smile. “i think you might know the answer to that already.” you laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “kenma let me borrow it for the week.” just as he suspected.

a hum left the cat eyed male’s lips as he got comfortable in his spot, scooting closer to you. “i figured as much.” he mused, draping an arm around your waist. “think you got room for one more on your chest? or is that reserved for video games only?”

you rose a brow at his response before letting out a laugh. “is that pettiness i detect, tetsu?” you asked, snickering further before letting out a breath. “i suppose i can make room for tonight..” you drawled out, turning off the device before placing it on your nightstand to charge.

a feline smirk etched onto kuroo’s lips as he wrapped his legs around your waist, moving his head to your chest as he closed his eyes. “perfect, that saves me the bribery.” he snickered out, feeling your fingers card gently through his hair as you scoffed, but smiled anyway.

➫    𝓐𝗞𝗔𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗜   𝓚𝗘𝗜𝗝𝗜   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ i don’t think he would mind it honestly, but at first he might be a little confused as to why you would want to play with his hair — or more like he wonders what enjoyment you might get out of it — and now i’m overthinking😐

⌗ anyway, if you do ask him, he will allow you to play with it! he’d never say no to you, as he wouldn’t want to deny your happiness.. and might be a little curious himself

⌗ “are you sure this is gonna help, y/n-san? it seems a little too simplistic to rid me of my — oh.” it was needless to say he took his words back immediately.

⌗ once he realizes that he enjoys it, it’ll become your go to if he’s ever super stressed or having one of his mini anxiety attacks ( those two manga panels resonated sm with me )

⌗ likes to have his head on your lap while you run your fingers through his hair ( might read too as you do it ), it’s very relaxing<3

“keiji?” you called his name softly, lifting your head off your pillow to find a male silhouette kicking off their shoes at the doorway. “it’s late.” you told him when he stepped into the dim light of the tv, frowning a little. “i was beginning to worry..”

“i know- sorry for missing dinner with you.. tenma-san wanted me to stay longer to try and figure out the direction of the new chapter he’s writing.” akaashi sighed out, sleep evident on his visage. he’d been working hard on finishing the chapter for three days now to meet the deadline, but it was taking a toll he hadn’t quite acknowledged yet.

but you did.

“keiji..” you murmured quietly before patting your lap. “come, lay down for a bit.. you’ve been working really hard, so you deserve to give yourself some time to relax.” you told him, smiling a little. “at least the chapter is finished so you can rest for a little without worrying of what needs to be done next.”

it was true, the turquoise eyed male knew it to be true, but he just couldn’t relax.. he kept thinking back to it, if what he done was good enough to be published for the public to see. the last thing he wanted to was let tenma down after all and —

“keiji.” you called again and he snapped from his thoughts, nodding slowly.

“sorry, sorry..” he muttered back, laying down on the vacant space while he rested his head on your lap. “how is this meant to help, though?”

a sigh left your lips, thinking the boy to be clueless. a few days at the office and he was up in the clouds. “just give it a second.” you told him, removing his glasses before carding your fingers through his hair, massaging him gently.

within a few minutes, he was out like a light.

notes. hi hi, i hope this was what you were looking for! i tried to keep them all somewhat diverse, but thank you again for requesting! some feedback would be much appreciated<3 so feel free to send another ask to tell me your thoughts if you prefer to stay anonymous!

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[lemonlover1110]

Baby Steps

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 14] Inconsolable

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Light Angst

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Happy to co-host Gojo NSFW Week 2023! Come join us on Twitter!

Satoru moves out not even two days later, promising to still pay for everything. You’ve had time to process everything, yet you’re still as shocked and confused since the moment he announced everything. You’re so disappointed in yourself to admit that you’ve been crying over him. For some reason you feel as if it’s your fault because you weren’t good enough.

Your relationship was never exclusive so he didn’t owe you anything, you knew that. But you still felt as if something was building up. It was the result of your imagination though, and now you’re inconsolable. Kaya has been checking up on you, making sure that everything is alright. But it’s hard because nothing is alright, and she’s trying to comfort you but it doesn’t work. 

“He’s not even handsome, it’s okay. You’re not missing out. In the end Leiko is the one losing.” Kaya says, wrapping her arms around you while you hug a pillow. You cry your heart out, your head not being able to wrap around anything else other than the fact that Satoru’s gone. You’d make someone else believe that he’s dead by the way you’re reacting.

“Why am I not good enough?” You sob, and Kaya swears her heart breaks when she hears this. This wouldn’t be happening if she kept her mouth shut in the beginning. She can’t help but feel guilty about this. This wouldn’t be a problem. “I didn’t even think he liked her.”

“You’re good enough, Satoru is just a dick.” She tells you. You can’t even believe her words. You’re pregnant with his baby, and lived with him, yet he somehow wasn’t satisfied with you. And what hurts the most is the fact that he acted as if you two were in some sort of relationship while he was here, yet apparently that meant nothing.

“We were supposed to watch a movie tonight.” You share with her, and she pouts.

“Do you still want to watch a movie?” She asks, and you tell her no. You’re not in the mood for anything but to cry. Even the happiest movie will make you burst into tears. “Do you want to do something to hurt him?”

“I can’t do anything to hurt him.” You respond, and she tries to think of something that’ll hurt the father of your baby. Then she thinks of something, and she blurts it out before even thinking, “Go on a date!”

“I don’t want to go on a date.” You cry even more, and Kaya keeps thinking of something else while you try to soothe yourself, “Who’d even want to date a pregnant woman? I look so ugly right now.”

“What? How dare you even say that. You’re so beautiful. You’re glowing when you’re not crying.” Kaya tries to comfort you, and it doesn’t seem to be helping you at all. She isn’t so great at comforting people– At least not pregnant women that cry over everything. Although she just doesn’t know what to say in this situation. It’s something she’s never prepared for.

“I regret ever going to that party with you. I would’ve been just fine staying home.” You begin. “I wouldn’t be pregnant, I wouldn’t have met Satoru, I would be just fine. Working and studying without having to worry about a stupid fucking baby.”

“Oh, you don’t mean that.” She says. She knows that you’re excited about this more than anything. It’s just your hurt feelings getting the best of you and taking over your words.

“I don’t. I’m actually so excited to see my son but–” You keep crying, and Kaya’s eyes widen as she gets the idea.

“Do you want to start decorating the nursery?” Kaya proposes and you bury your face into the pillow before refusing. You say something but it’s muffled by the pillow, leading Kaya to ask, “What did you say, honey?”

“Satoru wanted to do that together.” You inform her, and she laughs. You don’t understand why she’s laughing, especially since you’re so miserable.

“Wouldn’t that be great though? Your sort of payback.” She tells you, and right now even though you’re pissed at him, you can’t wrap your head around doing that to him. It just seems cruel. Your stance would be very different if you weren’t overemotional. 

“It’s okay.” You tell her, and Kaya pouts. She knows this won’t be the last night that you’ll be crying over Satoru and she dreads it because she can’t stand seeing you sad for much longer.

-

The next day you’re better. Kaya makes some breakfast for you, and you quietly eat. She looks at your puffy face and she feels a tug on her heart, but she knows better than to bring up anything. It’ll ruin your day and make you start crying earlier than you’d intend.

She refrains from asking questions because she knows that won’t end well. She has to walk on eggshells. She has to think through what she wants to ask because if she doesn’t, you’ll burst into tears. It’s draining. 

“How about we go out to eat later? I’ll get a bit tipsy while you sip on some mocktails. Maybe we can go to karaoke.” She speaks up and your eyes light up at the idea. Going out to have some fun is what you need. Spending some time with other people is perfect. While Kaya would want to invite some other people, her other friends are Daisuke and his friends and they’re associated with Satoru. 

“I’ll love that.” You respond, and she smiles. She had never really cared to see you smile until now. She had never seen you so sad, even when you found out you weren’t the only girlfriend of your previous boyfriend. And while you’re extremely emotional that anything and everything can make you burst into tears, the emotions that you’ve had the past couple of days are obviously more than just a case of insufficient sweets. “I’ve been thinking about the nursery and while Satoru is an asshole… It’s not his fault that he likes someone else.”

“You’re right.” Kaya nods, realizing how immature she is while next to you. She probably would’ve decorated the nursery a way Satoru would hate, then go out with his best friend. Then again, she’s not in your shoes. Kaya would allow you to be with Daisuke just for you to get petty revenge on Satoru.

There’s a knock on the door that surprises both of you. Neither of you invited someone over. Kaya stands up from the dining table and walks to the front door, suspecting who the unwanted visitor is. And she’s proven right when she opens the door and sees the father of your child, holding a brown paper bag. She puts her hand up, swinging it towards Satoru, but his hand catches her wrist before her skin can strike against his cheek. She swore she’d give Satoru a piece of her mind, including a beating, when she finally saw him. 

“Good to see you too, Kaya.” Satoru says, about to push Kaya out of his way to enter the place. The groceries he holds are much heavier than he expected. But it’s as if Kaya is planted into the ground, and she won’t move. She’s pushed to the side but she extends her arm to cover the doorway.

“You’re a fucking piece of shit. You don’t live here anymore so don’t fucking feel entitled to enter the place without permission.” Kaya says, kicking her feet so they hit Satoru’s shin. It doesn’t affect the man though. “You’re really brave showing up around here.”

“Kaya, I pay for this apartment. I have more rights to enter this place than you do.” Satoru responds, and Kaya feels her blood boil.

“If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to start screaming.” She threatens, and it’s fair to say that Satoru is irritated. She begins a countdown, starting at five. Before she even gets to three, Satoru shouts your name. While you were hearing the commotion, you chose to stay away from it, but now your name has been mentioned. 

“What do you need, Satoru?” You ask as you walk to the front door, standing behind Kaya. You cross your arms and stare at the man who immediately smiles when he sees you. You look away, not wanting to stare directly at him because you’ll burst into tears again. You feel more calm today, but you’re still very emotional. You can’t just get over stuff like this so easily. He notices and feels horrible, knowing how bad he hurt you.

“May I come in? I have some groceries.” He informs you, and you sigh.

“Who told you I needed groceries?” You question, grabbing Kaya’s arm and dragging her away which allows Satoru to enter the place. He does so, closing the door behind him and taking off his shoes. He puts the brown paper bag on the kitchen counter while he looks around the rather messy place.

“Take off those stupid shades. You look like a clown.” Kaya is quick to insult, and Satoru sighs. He’s gathered that she’s very protective of you, so he guesses he deserves this treatment. “Why are you even here? Groceries? Really? I can do that.”

“Well, are you the father of the baby?” Satoru questions, and she doesn’t like the cocky tone that’s in his voice.

“I’m going to be if you don’t step up your game, blind mouse.” She says, and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion, same as you until you remember the movie she ended up putting last night. You actually chuckle at this, and Satoru decides not to argue more because you ended up laughing and he doesn’t want to ruin that. 

“Do you two have plans tonight?” Satoru sighs while asking the question. He’s been dreading this the whole way here but Leiko would only accept to date him if he did this. In his brain he’s thinking that killing Suguru would be easier than doing this to you.

“Yes–” Kaya begins, but she’s met with your,

“No.” 

“Leiko and I were wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner.” He slowly and awkwardly asks the question, and you have no idea what to say. Tears well up in your eyes again and you’re trying your best to hold them back, while Kaya’s hands ball up into fists and she tries her best to not start hitting the man. However, she’s at a great disadvantage. He’s bigger, stronger, and taller than she is. So she does the next best thing, grabbing a glass that’s nearby and throwing it straight at his head.

Luckily for Satoru, and unluckily for Kaya, he has great reflexes and manages to dodge the glass, causing it to hit the wall behind him. He has to say, she has a great arm and she should consider putting that energy into a sport like baseball. Although he isn’t thinking that when Kaya grabs yet another glass, this time it’s filled with orange juice, and once again throws it at him.

While you want to scream at Kaya to stop, you decide to walk away so you don’t get caught up in the crossfire. Plus, Satoru isn’t having a hard time dodging anything. In the end, Kaya will clean everything up, while Satoru will replace the dinnerware. You’re not losing or gaining anything by stopping them, so you’ll let them settle their differences.

“You son of a bitch. Your mother must’ve dropped you on your head because there’s no way you’re just so fucking stupid.” She’s saying as she’s looking for more things to throw at him. When she goes into the cabinets to look for plates it’s when you finally speak up,

“That’s enough, Kaya.” You tell her, and she freezes. She takes a moment to calm herself, while you look at Satoru, “We’ll join you for dinner if you can replace the dinnerware that Kaya broke. I’m sure that’s not a big problem for you, right?”

“That’s fine. Yep.” Satoru ends up nodding, a bit out of breath. He hadn’t prepared himself for the very extreme workout of evading plates. Your gaze then falls on Kaya again,

“You know what you’ll be doing in the spare time, right?” You ask, and she knows you’re talking to her. She doesn’t know why she’s terrified, she just knows that you’ll end up being an amazing mother.

“Yes.” She answers. You clear your throat before, once again, looking at Satoru.

“What are you still doing here? You can tell us the details through a text message. Get out.” You order and he’s hesitant before he begins to walk to the front door. He has so many things to say, but he bites his tongue. He doesn’t want to make the situation worse than it already is. 

When the front door shuts, you walk to the couch and take a seat. In a way, you’re happy that Satoru came because now you’re simply frustrated. Although you’re still sad, your frustration is overshadowing any other feeling.

“You know, Kaya… I think you’re right. Let’s start decorating the nursery.”

🏷 @witchofoe @cactustattoo @kageyamaslittleroyal20 @mykyoon @sunjayist @fonkymonkeyfriday @lilith412426 @luvs-wrld @witchymermaid12 @fi106 @distractionforyourthoughts @dearsunaa @tamak00 @watyousayin @leiriswhore @q-the-rockaholic @shuxjodie @syynnaaah @kleeboomed @shrekmwa @bakugobiddies @blueeskies17 @arminsgfloll @obeythemasters @crispmarshmallow @levismainbabe

[greazyfloz]

Luke walking in on you and Jack doing the deed when he was younger and still is traumatised but uses it for blackmail

Slight Smut w/ Jack Hughes

Trauma

Flashback: 

During COVID lockdown, I decided to join the Hughes family as I didn’t really want to spend that long away from my boyfriend. In the beginning we were always hanging out with everyone in the house trying to keep busy so time would pass. Some restrictions were lifted around June, just in time for lake house season so it was nice that the boys could have some friends over or go golfing because they were starting to get at eachothers throats.

One day, Jack and I were lounging by the pool watching his brothers and parents go out for a boat ride when Jack looked over at me. “We should have sex” he says suddenly

“So subtle” I say laughing

“I’m serious, no one is home and we haven’t really been able to in a long time” he says leaning over to my lounge chair kissing my lips. 

“There isn’t any sheets on your bed Jack” I say pushing him away reminding him that they are in the wash

“We will find another bed” he says, grabbing my hand. 

I roll my eyes as he stands me up and bends don’t so I’d jump on his back up. He piggy backed me up the stairs and into his older brother's room before plopping me down on the bed. “Absolutely not!” I say sitting up from Quinn’s bed. 

“He will never know!” he chuckles

“He will seriously beat your ass if he ever does find out you know?!” I say as I take my bikini top off, throwing it to the side. 

“Stop worrying” he says, placing a kiss on my lips that soon turns into a makeout session. It gets deeper and deeper as Jack reaches down and pushes my bikini bottoms to the side, entering a finger inside of me pumping it in and out of me as I let out a whimper. He takes his fingers out and lifts me slightly so I am up right on the bed and he crawls on top of me as he reaches back down to continue. I then reach down and massage the growing bulge in his shorts before we hear someone

“OH MY GOD!” we hear Luke yell out. Jack springs himself off of me and I grab my exposed chest. “I- uh- Quinn needs- he asked me-” he says covering his eyes. Jack bends down grabbing my bikini top and throws it over to me. “Forget it, I’ll just tell him-”

“NO” Jack and I both yell at the same time. I quickly cover myself again and Jack looks back at me before saying “No, come here”

“I’d feel more comfortable out here” Luke says in the hall on his way back down the stairs. Jack sprints out the door.

“Where you going? I thought you guys where on the boat?” Jack asks a very traumitized 16 year old boy. 

“Yeah but Quinn forgot his sunglasses” he says

“Y/n! Grab Quinn’s sunglasses!” I hear from downstairs so I grab them and come down

“Please don’t tell Quinn” Jack says, “He will beat my ass” he repeats what I told him to his brother.

“Fine” he says grabbing the glasses from my hands, “but you owe me”

It took awhile for Luke to be less awkward with me and especially in summer in a bikini, didn’t make things easier. As time went by Luke would always blackmail Jack to get his way, “I wonder what Quinn would think if I told him about something I saw in his bedroom” he would always say before getting his way. 

It was two years later and we were out on the boat with Luke, Quinn, Blanks, and Duker. When Jack and Luke started arguing about something related to wakeboarding. 

“I only got to go like twice today” Luke says as we made our way back home

“Okay well maybe next time you will go more” Jack says as he drive the boat

“Why are you in such a hurry to get back?” Luke says tauntingly. I have hear this tone before so I speak up

“Let him go again” I say and Jack gives me a weird look

“See even Y/n wants me to go again” Luke says. Jack doesn’t budge. Jack doesn’t think that Luke would say anything in front of Duker or Blanks because he would be too awkward but he was wrong.

“Quinn, drive the boat” Luke says, and Quinn shakes his head no. “Why are you siding with Jack? He is probably rushing home so he can have sex with Y/n in your bed again”. It went silent and Quinn stares deep into Jack’s back before speaking up

“What the fuck?!” Quinn says, looking at Jack in the rearview mirror then to me. 

“It was two years ago Quinn” Jack says almost like he is over this shit. Luke explains what happened and Quinn shakes his head then says “ew”. I look away awkwardly before Blanks and Duker start laughing. 

“I mean beat my ass if you want but he’s the one that didn’t tell you for two years” Jack says laughing along with the other two boys. Soon Quinn becomes more annoyed with Luke than Jack and I. 

“That backfired” Jack says to Luke as we all make our way off the boat

“Yeah, well wait till I tell mom and dad” Luke says

[sluttywonwoo]

DEAR LORD THE WY ASK GOT ME SO EMOTIONAL???? WHY DO I SEE SAN AS SOMEONE THAT WOULD DO THAT TOO??? MAYBE NOT EXACTLY THE SAME BUT THE WHOLE JEALOUS TUNNEL VISION SHIFT TO GUILT AND TEARS?? ESP WITH HOW MUCH OF A SWITCH HE IS WHEN HE PERFORMS… THANK YOU FOR WRITING THAT. THAT WAS A GOOD READ ALSO THANK U TO THE USER THAT SENT THAT ASK. I LOVE U BOTH.

a san ver. you say… also the idea for woo was sent by my irl bestie @sluttywoozi <3

switch!san is literally so important to me

cw: rough sex!! lil bit of injury during sex (obvs mdni this is an nsfw blog)

“gotta be quiet, okay? as much as i want that asshole to hear you cumming on my cock, we don’t want to get kicked out, do we?”

you shake your head in response, which seems to satisfy your boyfriend. san rewards you by snapping his hips into yours, bending you over the bathroom sink as he does.

the marble countertop is cold on your tits. you can feel the chill of it through the thin material of your shirt.

when he dragged you into the bar’s bathroom, san hadn’t even bothered with undressing you all the way. he just pushed your skirt up and pulled your panties aside and fucked you like that. hard and rough and fast.

it felt good, but the pace he’d set had your hips repeatedly slamming into the counter and you’re starting to get sore. you can already feel the spots where your body meets the marble starting to bruise and you can only imagine what they’ll look like come morning.

“ah, ow…” you groan, trying to wrestle your arms free from where san has then pinned behind your back.

san freezes. “ow? what’s ow? what hurts?what’s wrong?”

he’s quick to pull out and turn you around, giving you a once over as he holds your hands in his.

“san, it’s nothing—”

“don’t fucking lie to me.”

“my… my hips were just starting to get sore from the countertop. but i’m fine, really.”

san lets your hands fall to your sides so that he can use his own to assess the extent of the damage. his thumbs press gently into your sides and you wince, whimpering under your breath.

“oh my god, baby. i’m so so sorry. let me go ask the bartender for some ice—”

“w-wait, but we’re not done,” you protest.

“baby,” he tries, zipping up his jeans. “you’re hurting.”

“it’s not that bad!” he gives you a look. “i promise! we can just try a different position.”

“why don’t we just wait until we get home?” san suggests. “that way you can be nice and comfortable on the bed.”

“i want it now,” you pout. “i didn’t get to cum yet. and you’re still hard.”

“of course i’m still hard. it’s you.”

“then take me against the wall or something.”

“i honestly don’t think i can look myself in the eye right now,” he admits, eyeing the giant mirror that hung above the sink. “especially not while i fuck you.”

you frown. “baby, please don’t feel bad. it was an accident.”

“that doesn’t make it ok!”

“i know, but you already apologized,” you point out. he’s quiet for a moment. “are you not in the mood anymore?”

“no, no, i am! i just… hate that i was too rough on you— over something so stupid too. i hate being that guy.”

“i know, baby. and you’re not,” you insist. “but if you really want to show me how sorry you are…” you trail off and san nods eagerly, willing to do practically anything to make it right. “why don’t you get down on your knees for me and start by making me feel good?”

[howtodrawyourdragon]

Hurdles in hand Holding

Summary: Written for the Hurt and Comfort Bingo.

A Modern AU. The thing about having powers is that sometimes even the simplest of things can come with hurdles.

Warnings: /

Ratings: General

Words: 640

Prompts: Accidents

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Astrid

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Author's Notes: Modern AU? Canon Viking setting? I literally weighed a list of pros and cons and even with one extra con for the Modern AU, it still got on pro on top of the Canon Viking Setting. So, here's another Modern AU.

Got inspired by watching the first X-men movie yesterday. :')

Enjoy!

-XOXOX-

Hiccup realized long ago that his ability to generate lightning is so intimately interwoven with his emotions. It’s not unheard of, it’s actually rather natural. It’s how most figure out they have powers at all, while others need to focus and make them happen.

He, in particular, has a great many feelings and he feels them with all of him. Always has. So control is the key and it took him years just to get some semblance of it.

“OW- fucking… Thor!”

But sometimes that control slips and Astrid jumps away from him with a couple of swear words as if she has just been… Well, shocked.

Her body is tingling all over in a rather unpleasant way, her heart is racing and she stares at her hand to make sure it didn’t leave a mark. It still hurts.

“I am so sorry!” Hiccup steps away from her, immediately apologetic. They were just taking a walk in the local park at sunset when Astrid took his hand to hold and it clearly sparked something, he ended up literally shocking her. He felt the charge not even a split second before she cried out.

It’s rather devastating that something so everyday as the joy of holding hands can lead to pain, he doesn’t see Astrid accidentally setting him on fire, does he?

“Hiccup, it’s okay,” she sighs, though her fingers still tingle annoyingly, the sensation radiates all the way up to her wrist. She doesn’t blame him. As anyone with abilities can attest, anyone with dangerous abilities like theirs especially; it’s easy to use your powers, control is the hard part.

She has perfected it, as would be expected from a Hofferson. But she also understands that this aspect of having powers tends to slip Hiccup’s mind. He always has a lot going on up there, so many emotions and she knows how deeply he feels each one. It’s one of the many reasons why she loves him.

As a pyrokinetic, there is no way she can ever let her feelings get the better of her and she pushed every hint of anything other than complete neutrality down until she had almost lost the ability to feel altogether.

But Hiccup… he could try for years and still fail.

“No… No, it’s really not,” he shakes his head. Astrid watches Hiccup pull something from his back pocket and within moments both his hands are clad in dark leather gloves. Contrary to Snotlout’s opinion- who claims her boyfriend has them to be extra- it turns out leather is a poor conductor for electricity. It’s either that or full on rubber gloves and who wants to be wearing those in daily life?

Astrid can’t help the heartache. They are in the minority, there are so many people who wish they had powers like them, but none of them quite realize the troubles they can bring. The two of them can’t even go for a walk together without having some kind of a hurdle to face.

They stand in silence for a moment, a couple of passersby staring at the two of them as they walk past.

Astrid wouldn’t have even noticed them if not for the fact that she doesn’t appreciate that they’re staring at her boyfriend. She couldn’t care less about what people think of her, but when they appear to be staring at him when he’s clearly feeling bad about something and fidgeting with his gloves that are sensory unpleasant…

“Come on,” she takes a resolute step closer to Hiccup and doesn’t allow him the chance to back away before she stretches her hand out to him. They will walk, they will hold hands and they will enjoy each other’s company.

Hiccup dares an appreciative smile and accepts her hand. Because she’s right. They can still enjoy this walk and they should.

[sillygooseassociation]

Just to Be Clear

Request: Jealous!Jason and that too on national television. Like a talk show or something where some other HOT celebrity is openly flirting with y/n and y/n flirts back because she doesn't wanna be rude and y/n & Jason's relationship is kinda secret so he can't really say anything but it's so obvious that he's so jealous and y/n is having a really good time teasing him but later in the dressing room she shows him that she is only his..... - @tedlassostan

Description: With only a few people knowing about your relationship, Jason has a hard time keeping your secret when an unrelenting costar refuses to leave you alone.

Pairing: jealous!Jason Sudeikis x celebrity!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: and here it is, the greatly anticipated jealous!jason fic !! it ended up being a celebrity reader just because of the request (which is great by the way, i love where this went) but it is not connected to my previous celebrity!reader fic. i hope you all enjoy! also rip if you like dylan o'brien, i have nothing against him, i just didn't know a hot young actor to choose lol

-

Feeling a hand slide around your waist, your body freezes before looking down and realizing you recognize the fingers. Turning around, you roll your eyes and push Jason away lightly, your tone of voice biting at him, “What are you doing?” You look around anxiously, making sure the room is clear, “Someone could see us!” Jason jokingly rolls his eyes as he throws his hands up in defense, “Alright, sorry sorry.” He brings his hands down as he looks you up and down, licking his bottom lip before looking back at you “You can’t blame me though, I mean, look at you.” 

His compliment brings a smile and blush to your face, glancing to your feet before deciding to take the attention off of you, “You know, you better pray that Seth doesn’t have any cameras in here for a prank or something. I swear to God, if the world finds out about us because you couldn't keep your hands to yourself for the couple of hours we’re not at home…”

Jason nods and laughs before giving you a joking salute, “Yes baby, I mean ma’am. Yes, ma’am, yes!” You swat at him and roll your eyes before walking towards the door to meet the rest of the cast, tossing a middle finger above your head to Jason as you leave. Florence and Will, who happen to be standing outside of your dressing room, look at you inquisitively before seeing Jason following you out, rolling their eyes at the explanation, “Oh of course, it's the love birds.” 

You shoot Will a look for his comment, “Okay, just because we told you two about us doesn’t mean you can say shit like that, especially in public. Don’t make me regret telling you, Will.” Your friend and costar looks around like he was being threatened with waterboarding, “What! Me?” You roll your eyes as Jason pats Will on the back to comfort him as Florence snorts at the two, “It’s okay, Will, I just got in trouble with Y/N too.” Looking to his friend in disgust, Will teases one of his oldest friends, “Okay, but I’m pretty sure a punishment from Y/N is a lot more enjoyable for you than me.”

Jason’s smile drops, slapping Will on the shoulder a bit harder than normal before you step in, “Okay you two, break it up, break it up.” Florence is now doubling over in laughter, you and the guys letting out a chuckle or two at the situation. Before you can say anything else, Dylan approaches the group with a bright smile on his face, “Hey guys! Hey Y/N!” The group responds with ‘hello’s, though Jason begins to roll his eyes, causing you to elbow him in the ribs, “Ow, ba-Y/N, what?” You shoot Jason a look, the man then looks around exasperatedly before looking to his young colleague, “Yeah, hey Dylan.” 

You roll your eyes at Jason before showing Dylan a tight-lipped smile, he certainly wasn’t your favorite person on the planet, but you figured it best to be nice, at least until the press tour was done. A PA comes to get you all, directing you to the backstage area where you’re now waiting to be called out. Jason comes to stand next to you, wanting to claim a seat next to you on the couch, but before he can, Dylan slides himself into the small space between you and Florence, sending a small smirk your way. You swear you hear your boyfriend mutter “motherfucker” under his breath before you are all called out, “Please welcome the cast of Just Another Day, Florence Pugh, Will Forte, Dylan O’Brien, Y/N L/N, and Jason Sudeikis!” 

You all wave to the crowd as you walk out, each giving Seth a hug before sitting down on the couch, you on one end of the couch next to Dylan while Jason sits on the other end. “Welcome to all of you, some of you for the first time! Jason and Will, just like old times, am I right? And Y/N, you haven’t been on the show but we’ve hung out before.” You smile and nod though you’re internally shooting daggers at Jason, the dumbass definitely forgot to tell Seth to omit the fact that you two had gone on double dates with Seth and Alexi. 

You’re not sure whether Jason could sense your uneasiness or just put his best interview foot forward, but he thankfully rescues you, “Yes, Seth, just like old times. We all remember the days of Dictator Meyers in the writing room.” The crowd laughs along with those on stage, Dylan casually throwing his arm around the back of the couch, seemingly placing you under his grasp. You shift uncomfortably, wishing you could scoot away but you were unfortunately restricted by the arm of the couch.

“Now, Y/N and Dylan, you two play opposite each other in the film, was that ever awkward given your history?” You look at Seth confused, glancing to the side to see Dylan chuckling and shaking his head slightly, “Our history?” Seth nods, pulling out a photo of younger Dylan on another talk show, “Oh, you must not know? Well, about eight years ago, your beloved costar was asked about his celebrity crush and he said your name, basically immediately.” You blush at his words as the studio is filled with ‘ooo’s from the audience, though your two friends on the other side of Dylan sense the awkwardness of your response and Jason sets his jaw. 

Dylan looks to the audience, showing them a charming smile, “I’ll admit, what Seth says is true. Jimmy Kimmel asked me who in the industry I would most want to take on a date and I knew my answer right away.” His hand on the back of the couch moves to settle on your shoulder and gives you a squeeze, “And what do you know, now I’ve gone on dozens of dates with her.” You internally grimace at what his comment suggests, though Jason speaks up before you can react, “Dates in the movie, you mean.”

At the correction, Dylan’s smile drops slightly. He didn’t know about your relationship with Jason but it was clear to most that he felt threatened by the older man. Nodding his head, Dylan turns to Seth, “Ah yeah, thanks, old man.” The crowd laughs while you chuckle awkwardly, not sure what to do before Dylan continues, “See with Jason being the most experienced in the cast, us younger folks have a little nickname for him.” You shoot Dylan a look, what the fuck was he doing? None of that is true and he knows it. If anyone was the outsider in the cast, it was him. He refused to hang out with the cast when having a day off from filming, the only time he mingled with all of you was to flirt with you.

Seth is chuckling at the interaction to keep up appearances but he can tell how uncomfortable his two friends who sit at the couch ends are, “Wait but how is that fair, isn’t Will older?” Will nods, opening his mouth to speak and take the pressure off his friend, but before he can speak, Dylan takes control of the conversation again, “I mean, sure, I don’t know, but at least Will is young at heart, Jason is just…old.” You’re surprised Jason isn’t seething at this point, his age is a sensitive topic for Jason, especially with you two having an age gap of about a decade and a half. The audience laughed though it was clear to everyone just how awkward and uncomfortable everyone on stage felt, everyone but Dylan at least. 

You wondered how much of this would actually make it to air and how much would be cut but before you could think much about it, Jason got in the last word while leaning down to look at Dylan, “Well, that’s the thing about being older Dylan, I’ve had more experience. That’s how I know you should take your hand off Y/N before someone has to take it off for you.” The entire audience goes silent, all you hear in the room is Will snorting in laughter before Florence slaps him on the arm while laughing herself. Seth cuts to the commercial, or where the commercial would go later that evening, and runs to his producers, probably to talk about the shit show that just happened. 

A PA guides you all backstage, telling you that filming would resume in 10 minutes. Once the green room is empty for everyone but the five of you, Dylan pulls out his phone and looks at it like it's the most important thing in the world while Florence and you make eye contact, screaming at each other telepathically. Jason tugs his shoulder away from Will’s grip on it, walking up to Dylan and pulling his phone away from him, tossing it on the couch behind them, “If you ever touch Y/N again, I can promise you, you will get no warning before something happens.” Dylan rolls his eyes as Jason storms out of the room, you then glance to Will and Florence before following your boyfriend out into the hallway.

Walking out of the green room, you see Jason walking into your dressing room, following behind him and closing the door, locking it for good measure. Jason is pacing the room, his hands running through his hair, “I, fuck, I’m sorry Y/N. He just wouldn’t fucking stop. He was saying shit about you as if you two had something but then also said things about me and just, fuck.” You quickly close the space between you two, stepping in front of him to stop his pacing, taking his wrists into your hands and bringing them down, “Jas, bubs, stop, take a breath.”

Jason shakes his head, looking at you with tears in his eyes as his hands tremble, “I didn’t mean to open the door to questions about us, I promise. I-I’m sorry, I wouldn’t care if it was just the shit about me but, he, he just wouldn’t shut up about you. I couldn’t listen to him, I’m so sorry…” You hold his face in between your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes, “Jas, Jason, look at me. Breathe with me.” Taking one hand from his cheek, you place it on his chest, taking deep breaths to try and calm him down. After a minute or two, Jason’s breathing has returned to normal and his crying has stopped. You take him to the couch, sitting him down, you kneeling on the floor in between his legs. 

He looks down at you as you wipe away tears from his face, “I’m sorry.” He speaks so softly you almost don’t hear him, but he knows you do when you shake your head, “Don’t you ever apologize for caring about me.” You raise yourself a bit, just enough to kiss him on the temple and then rest your forehead against his, “You did nothing wrong, Jason. You protected me and you protected yourself.” Jason nods, though his brain tells him not to believe you, that you would be better off with someone younger, someone like Dylan. But after a year and a half together in which both of you had your share of insecurities and the other talked you down, he knows it isn’t true.

Jason turns his head so he can place a soft kiss on your palm that rests against his cheek, “Now, we’re gonna go back out there and talk with our friend. We’re gonna ignore Dylan and then we’ll drive home and spend time with the kids, our kids. They’ll tell us jokes that make no sense and then we’ll eat Mac and Cheese for the fifth night in a row but it’ll be perfect because that’s all I’ll want. It’s all I’ll ever want, with you.” 

Both of you chuckle, Jason then leaning forward to meet you with a kiss. You pull away, attempting to return his hair to how it was before his pacing, “Okay?” Jason nods, kissing you once more, “Okay.” The two of you stand up, checking yourselves in the mirror to wipe away tears and fix your makeup. You walk to the door hand in hand, you unlock the door but before you can open it, Jason pulls you back, wrapping his arms around you, “Just to be clear, you know that I will in fact punch him if he tries again, right?” Chuckling, you lean forward to kiss him, “Yes, I know that bubs, and for his sake, I hope he knows too.”

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

If You Need to Cry

*Zuko (ATLA) x Reader

*Summary: Reader doesn’t often cry in front of other people, so when Zuko comes home to find them crying, he knows something is very wrong.

*Warnings: Swearing, School anxiety, overworking, stress from school. Let me know if I missed anything

*A/N: I have another final tomorrow (today when this goes live) and yet, here I am, finishing this fanfic instead of studying. The last month of school was really rough on me mentally so I really needed this comfort.

Tip Jar

**********

There were very few times you’d cried in front of people that weren’t your immediate family. Off the top of your head, the last time you cried in front of people was when you got rejected from one of your top choices for grad school, and even then that was just your housemate running into you as you left the bathroom after your crying session. The only time you cried in front of your boyfriend was soft tears of happiness when he told you he loved you for the first time and couldn’t picture his life without you. So when your boyfriend got back to the apartment and heard sobbing coming from the living room, he was startled more than anything. However, once the shock wore off, he immediately rushed to find you.

Zuko had known you’d been stressed by this research assignment, but he had no idea it was this bad. You were sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, sobs wracking your body and tears running down your face, but you were still scrolling through whatever article you were currently reading. You didn’t even notice him standing in the hall, mumbling to yourself about dropping out and that you didn’t even know why you were doing this anymore. “Uh, baby, are you okay?”

“Shit, Zuko, sorry, I didn’t realize you were home.” You immediately started wiping away your tears, still hiccuping through the sobs. “Sorry, I’m just kinda overwhelmed. Let me… let me…”

You tried to compose yourself, but Zuko could see that you were still struggling to talk to him. His body immediately went into autopilot as he saw you struggling. He put his workbag down, rushing to join you on the floor in front of the coffee table. He pulled your laptop away from you, saving whatever work you’d been busy with before he closed it. Even as you cried, you still tried getting your laptop back from him. Zuko hushed you, pulling you into his arms and letting you sob into his chest.

After a few minutes, your sobs quieted and Zuko felt your body sag against his. He looked down to check, calling your name softly, but you didn’t respond. This assignment had been particularly bad, especially as it was worth most of your grade in this class, and you hadn’t been sleeping as much as he would’ve liked you to, but he didn’t know it was this bad. Sure, you drank a lot of coffee and energy drinks, but that was kind of your habit anyways. Zuko started internally berating himself for not noticing the warning signs - after all, he knew you were prone to overworking yourself both physically and mentally during college, and grad school had been no different so far.

Before he could get too far into his wallowing, you shifted against him, reminding him of his priorities at the moment. Now, Zuko was never too good with the whole feelings thing, but he had the basic knowledge of what to do. He had just been thrown off his rhythm since he wasn’t used to seeing you cry at all. It took a few minutes of thinking, but he managed to get up and pick you up without you waking up. He brought you over to your bedroom and tucked you under the covers, knowing your mind would probably be a lot clearer once you got some rest. Beyond getting you to sleep and just being physically there for you, Zuko was a little lost. So, he picked up the phone and called his most reliable source for things like this.

“Nephew, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Iroh answered after a couple rings.

“Uncle, I need some advice,” Zuko started, wondering for a second just how much he should share about the situation. He knew you had an issue with people seeing you cry, not wanting others to perceive you as weak or unable to handle the burdens you placed upon yourself, but he knew that his uncle wouldn’t see you any differently for having struggles like everyone else. “(y/n)’s been overworking themself again. When I got home from work today I found them crying in front of their laptop and I don’t know what to do.”

“What are you doing on the phone with me, then? You should be at their side, consoling them,” Iroh admonished him. Zuko could practically see the annoyance on his uncle’s face.

“I’m not stupid, Uncle. They’re sleeping now. I let them cry until they tired themself out. I just don’t know how to support them once they wake up.” Zuko stopped himself from rolling his eyes, knowing that he didn’t necessarily have the best track record with things like this in his previous relationships.

“Then talk to them about it. I know they don’t like feeling as though they are bothering you, so let them know from the beginning that they are not. You are their partner, you’re there to support them through things like this, it’s what you signed up for.”

“Yes, I know, Uncle. I just… you know I’m not necessarily the best with knowing how to do that.”

“I would tell you to make them a cup of tea, but that would probably make them feel worse.” Zuko had to laugh at Iroh’s dig there. “I’ll tell you what. I’m running errands and I can stop by set everything up for you. I don’t want you to poison them somehow.”

“Uncle, I’m sure they would appreciate that, but I also want you to know I’ve managed to make them tea before and they didn’t die.”

“I’m sure their spirit did, at least a little. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Uncle!” Before he could get another word out, Iroh had already ended the call. Zuko looked at the phone, shaking his head in slight disbelief. Even though his uncle was a little eccentric, Zuko knew you would probably appreciate some actually well-brewed tea at this moment. He looked around, trying to figure out what he could do to help ease your burdens at least a little bit until you woke up and he could actually talk to you about things. Looking around the apartment, he rolled up his sleeves. If anything, cleaning up the place and starting dinner would probably be a good starting point.

**********

You were confused when you woke up. You could feel the exhaustion still heavy in your body, but you didn’t remember going to bed. You couldn’t find your phone anywhere within reaching distance, so that just left you even more confused. Normally when you took planned naps, you always had your phone nearby. That was when you shot up, looking around and trying to actually gain your bearings. You started swearing, knowing that you were definitely even more behind schedule now.

“Hey, sorry, baby, I was supposed to be here when you woke up,” Zuko said, coming into the room with a steaming mug of tea. Iroh left about ten minutes earlier, with strict instructions for Zuko to keep the tea ready for you.

“Hey, uh, when’d you get back?” you asked, still confused. You walked towards him, ready to take the mug of tea from him and go back to work. “I gotta go back to researching, but maybe we can order in something, yeah?”

“Baby, just get back in bed, okay? You need to get some rest.” Zuko guided you back to the bed, despite your protests. “Here, Uncle stopped by earlier to make sure you’d have some good tea.”

“I have to get back to my paper after this, though,” you said, letting Zuko tuck you back under the covers. He handed you the mug of tea, the cup immediately warming your hands. As you took a sip, you could immediately taste the difference of something brewed by Iroh. Zuko could see your little smile that you tried hiding with your mug and silently thanked Iroh for taking the time to stop by.

“How about you take the rest of the night off. I know you need to get this research to your advisor, but it was kinda really worrying to come back to you crying at your laptop.” Zuko explained, getting into bed beside you.

“Shit, I’m sorry about that-”

“You don’t have to apologize. I know you’re really stressed right now, and I just want to know if there’s anything that I can do to help you out more. Like I can cook dinner more often, maybe clean up the apartment so you don’t have to, whatever.” Zuko could practically see the way your mind was racing as you took another drink of your tea.

“No, I think I can handle it. I just need to figure out how to better manage my time, and then I don’t wanna bug you because you also work-” Zuko directed the mug back to your lips, effectively cutting you off.

“Baby, listen to me. I want to help you out, and if I need to pick up some slack around the house then I’ll gladly do it for you. I also want to make sure that you’re not overworking yourself again. We’re in this together, right?”

You nodded, knowing you couldn’t argue your way out of this one. “Right. Sorry, it’s just everything with school has kind of been hell like this past month, and I really didn’t wanna bother you since you have everything going on with work.”

“You’d never bother me.” Immediately you could see Zuko’s slight regret in saying that. Before you could respond with whatever teasing little joke you wanted to make, though, he quickly followed it up. “That’s not an invitation to try your hardest to, though.”

“Aw, well there goes my plans for break,” you still joked anyways. “I do really appreciate all of this, though. I’m guessing Iroh did more than just come over to make tea.”

Zuko’s immediate blush was enough to tell you exactly what you guessed, but you didn’t mind it. After all, if there was one person who knew human emotion like no one else, it was definitely Iroh. Zuko tried stuttering out an explanation, but he stopped when you leaned into his chest, his arms immediately going to wrap around you. It had been a minute since you’d been able to do this, savoring the last of the warmth from the tea and the feeling of just enjoying Zuko’s presence and hold on you. Zuko pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you felt your heart flutter at the soft gesture.

“Promise you’ll help me take care of you?” Zuko asked after a few minutes of you just sitting there, basking in the moment.

“Yeah, I guess,” you said, more of a joke than genuine sincerity. You looked up at him, finding his gaze already on you. He was definitely not amused with your little joke, so you reached up to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I promise.”

“Okay, good, because Uncle only prepared me so far for this conversation and I genuinely have no idea how I was supposed to continue that,” he rushed out. “What do you want to do tonight? And don’t say your paper.”

“Can we stay like this for a while? We haven’t done this in a long time,” you admitted, your voice sounding small even to yourself.

“Of course. Whenever you’re ready I have dinner staying warm.”

“You could not be more attractive than you are right now.” Zuko mumbled something in response, still not used to accepting compliments, and pulled you in closer. For the first time in a while, you felt at peace with everything. You knew tomorrow you would have to get back into the groove of things, but now you knew for sure Zuko had your back with all of this. There was a little less weight on your shoulders, but anything that was still there could be dealt with tomorrow. For now, you were content to stay with your boyfriend, letting him calm your mind.

**********

Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness, @delaber, @laic2299

[peachy-panic]

Two Way Street

Part of Do No Harm. Takes place after this chapter. 

WARNINGS: BBU/BBU-Adjacent, lots of talk around food, references to past noncon, fear of future noncon, trust issues

Sebastian knocks twice, waiting for an affirmative sound on the other side before opening the bedroom door. He nudges it with his hip—a little too hard, accidentally—and has to catch it with his foot before it hits the wall. Somehow, he just manages to keep the two plates balanced in his hands and shoots Jaime a sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he says. “I made breakfast. Um. Well, I guess it’s brunch, now. Sorry about that. Do you like egg sandwiches?”

Jaime looks up at him from where he sits against his bed—on the floor instead of the mattress itself, and Sebastian wonders if he should add another talk about the furniture allowances to his list. One crisis at a time.

“Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?”

Jaime starts to shake his head, then pinches his eyes shut and clears his throat. “No. I don’t mind.”

He sinks down onto the floor beside him and hands Jaime a plate. Jaime seems to watch him for a cue, waiting until Sebastian has taken his first bite before allowing himself to pick his sandwich up, but at least he doesn’t wait for explicit permission. That’s a small win.

Sebastian allows himself a few seconds of stalling as he chews his first bite. “We don’t have to talk about what happened in the kitchen,” he says once he swallows. “If you want to unpack it, I’m more than happy to listen, but you should know I’m not expecting an explanation out of you. You don’t owe me or anyone else that.”

Jaime takes another small bite, and Sebastian takes some small comfort in watching it happen, seeing at least one of his needs met.

“That said, I do feel like I owe you some words. First of all, I’m not upset with you. Not even a little. The glass is cleaned up, brunch is served, you never have to think about it again. Not on my account, anyway.”

They mirror a halfhearted smile at each other, like they both know how unlikely that is.

“Second,” Sebastian says, and then takes a deep breath because he wants this to come out right. “I’m not really picky when it comes to food. Or coffee. Especially coffee. Oat milk and sugar if it’s there, but you could also probably put raw coffee beans in a cup of room temperature water and I’d drink it in a pinch.”

This earns a slow blink, which… yeah, fair. Sebastian keeps talking.

“I usually keep the breakfast staples around the house—eggs, bread, cereal, milk—and you really can’t go wrong with most combinations derived from that, but most of the time, especially during the work week, I end up running out of time for anything more than a granola bar on the way out the door.”

He pauses long enough to swallow another bite of his sandwich and give Jaime time to process.

“So now you know what I like. And what about you?”

Jaime freezes with his sandwich halfway to his mouth. A glob of melted cheese splashes down onto his plate. “About me?”

Sebastian nods. “I understand that it might make you feel more comfortable to have something productive to do. To help out.” He leans into the comfort of Ezra’s words on the phone, trusting them to be true. Feeling useful is going to be the one safety net he has at first. You shouldn’t take that away from him completely, even with the best of intentions.

“So,” he continues. “If you happen to wake up before me, like today, and feeling productive for you means making something in the kitchen, I’m not going to be mad if you pour me an extra cup. But that comes with a few caveats.”

That seems to be the part Jaime was expecting. His shoulders stiffen slightly and he looks directly into Sebastian’s eyes, signaling that he is listening.

“One,” Sebastian ticks off on his fingers, “is that you try your best to remember that this is not an obligation you have to fulfill. There’s no pressure. That’s the most important. Two, if you’re making something for me, I want it to be because you’re already making something for yourself. If I’m enjoying the fruits of your labor, so are you. And three is that I am allowed to make things for you sometimes, too. Or that we make things together. I think this should be a two way street.”

Jaime nods, holding his gaze for a few more seconds before dropping it to the sandwich in his lap. His thin fingers tear off a corner of the bread, popping it into his mouth. Sebastian tries not to watch his expression too intently as Jaime chews. Finally, he swallows and opens his mouth, closes it briefly, then opens it again.

“I like milk and sugar?” he says quietly. “I’ve never tried oat milk, but I’d probably like it. I’m not picky about food either. I like… this.” He gestures to his half-eaten sandwich. “This is good.”

A smile pulls at Sebastian’s mouth. “Thank you,” he says, and he means it for more than the compliment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

-- -- --

Jaime can tell the conversation isn’t over, and he can read the tension in Sebastian’s posture that makes his own muscles coil in anticipation.

“There is one more thing I wanted to run by you,” Sebastian says finally. “And, to preface, this doesn’t need to be anything immediate. Just something that might be good for both of us going forward.”

Jaime nods, because he can see Sebastian is waiting for his response to go on.

“I have… a friend,” Sebastian says. “I don’t want to say too much right away, because it isn’t my story to tell. But he’d like to meet you, when you’re ready, and I think it would be a good idea, too.”

And Jaime feels something in his stomach go tight and cold. He pulls a slow, deep breath in through his nose, fighting to keep his eyes steady on Sebastian and reminding himself, over and over, that Sebastian isn’t Mr. Torley. He isn’t him. But Jaime can suddenly smell his friend’s cologne so clearly, can feel the cold bathroom tile under his bare feet and under his knees, and remembers exactly what it feels like to be introduced to a Keeper’s friend.

“He’s a really nice guy,” Sebastian continues, apparently unaware of Jaime’s budding panic. “I promise, I wouldn’t let him anywhere near you if I didn’t believe that completely. He actually… Well, he knows Aria—From the clinic, remember? That’s how I met him.”

A really nice guy. Jaime had met a lot of those. He thought Thomas was a really nice guy for the first couple hours of knowing him. He thought Bryan was a nice guy. The occasional facility worker. The man from the bar.

Nice guys wait until no one is looking. Nice guys press your back against the bathroom door and tell you, “I hope he doesn’t treat you too badly,” and “I wouldn’t want to get you into any trouble,” and “you have to know what you look like.”

Jaime must not be concealing his panic very well anymore, because there is a familiar crease growing between Sebastian’s brows that means he is watching Jaime like he might fall apart at any moment. Again.

“Like I said,” Sebastian reiterates quickly, “it’s not anything pressing. I know… I mean, I can only imagine how difficult it must be to settle into a new place like this. We probably shouldn’t even talk about this seriously for a couple weeks at least. One thing at a time, okay?”

Jaime swallows and forces himself to smile back at him, even though the half-sandwich in his stomach has turned to stone.

“Okay.”

-- -- --

The evening finds them on the living room couch—the couch this time, and not the floor, which Sebastian counts as a small win. A laugh track for some show Sebastian had seen reruns of a hundred times drones in the background, but he gets the feeling neither one of them are paying attention.

They had spent the day performing a carefully choreographed dance of staying out of each other’s way in the most polite way possible. Fun as that was, Sebastian knows it’s not a sustainable way to play this contract out. He’s mentally exhausted and knows that it’s only a fraction of what Jaime must be feeling, but he’s trying to cut himself some slack. It’s only the first full day, he reminds himself. They have six months of room to improve from here.

Sebastian goes back to work tomorrow. He hopes it’s not selfish of him to think a little breathing room might benefit both of them. As difficult a time Jaime is having getting settled in the house, Sebastian’s hovering is almost definitely making it worse.

The sound of a stomach growling breaks through his haze of stress-thoughts. Sebastian puts a hand to his stomach on instinct before realizing the noise didn’t come from him. He casts a look at a sheepish Jaime, who is clutching both arms over his stomach with reddening cheeks.

He casts a glance at the clock and feels a surge of unhelpful guilt. He had lost track of time in his own stress.

“I don’t know about you,” he says, trying for nonchalance as he stretches up into a yawn, “but I am starving. Think you could eat?”

Jaime hesitates, then nods.

An idea occurs to Sebastian, and he latches on with both hands. “Wanna try that cooking together thing we talked about earlier?”

This seems to be something Jaime can latch onto as well, much to Sebastian’s relief. He sits up, some of the hesitance draining from his expression. For a moment, Sebastian thinks about offering him a hand up from the couch, then thinks better of it and keeps his hands at his side. He smiles instead, and it feels a little easier on his face this time.

“Come on,” he says, and leads them into the kitchen.

It’s a bit of an awkward dance, at first. Sebastian is coming to accept that that’s just the way things will probably be for a while, and he has to be okay with that. Ezra was right though; the tension seemed to lessen between them when they both had something to do with their hands.

“Sorry if the ingredients are a little sparse,” Sebastian says as he cuts up a raw chicken breast. Jaime is across the island counter, dicing an onion with expertly quick hands. “I stocked up on the essentials before you came, but I thought it might be a good idea for us to make a grocery list together.”

Jaime sections off a fresh pile of onion and swipes the papery outer layer into the trash bin. “I can help you make a list,” he affirms.

“Cool. Maybe we can do that over dinner.”

They—well, mostly Sebastian with a few terse nods of input from Jaime—decided on pasta. It’s fast and easy and difficult to fuck up in any significant way. There is leftover pizza from the night before in the fridge, but Sebastian already promised himself he wouldn’t subject Jaime to the diet of a sad bachelor just because that’s what he’s used to himself.

Although, it’s worth noting that Sebastian has done better for himself recently. And he has Jaime to thank for that.

“You want to know something?” he says, turning to the sink to wash the chicken juice off his hands. “I was never much of a cook until recently. I never really had a reason to be. Cooking full meals for one feels kind of depressing. It wasn’t until we started having lunch together in the clinic that I even felt the need to keep groceries stocked in the kitchen.”

The sink is positioned so that Sebastian is angled slightly away, so he only catches a glimpse of Jaime’s reaction. There’s a half-second pause in the movement of his knife before he continues seamlessly. In the reflection of the window in front of him, Sebastian can almost convince himself he sees a small smile.

His eyes land on his phone when he reaches for the hand towel. The mention of their time in the clinic together sparks a memory.

“Do you mind if I put on some music?” he asks. “I like to have something to listen to while I work.”

He remembers peering through the office door to find Jaime’s finger tapping along with the beat of some song playing from Sebastian’s cheap speakers. He remembers thinking it was the first time he’d ever seen Jaime look content.

“Any requests?” Sebastian asks as he thumbs through his playlists.

Jaime’s knife pauses again, just for a second. “I liked what you used to play in your office. At the clinic,” he says before resuming his work. “But I’m fine with whatever you like.”

He tries to match Jaime’s casual tone when he says, “Cool,” but he can barely contain his elation at finally getting something right.

Sebastian hits play on his favorite chore playlist and lets the music soften the space between them.

There is less pressure to fill the silence when there isn’t any. Sebastian takes advantage of that for a while and lets the two of them work in tandem without speaking more than what is necessary to pass the next ingredient. He sneaks a few looks in Jaime’s direction and doesn’t think he’s imagining the way the tension seems to lessen in his shoulders as the minutes go on.

When it’s time to combine the ingredients for the sauce, Jaime takes the helm at the stove almost instinctively. He seems content to be there, so Sebastian doesn’t argue. Instead, he backs himself against the adjacent counter and hoists himself onto it. “You’re a natural,” he observes, watching Jaime fold the vegetables into the simmering pan of chicken.

Jaime flashes a quick look in his direction, not quite meeting his eyes. “I like cooking.”

“Yeah?”

He shrugs, then nods.

“Well. You’re good at it.” Sebastian stops, hesitates, then decides to take a chance. “Anything else you like to do?”

The wooden spoon never stops moving against the bottom of the pan, but there is a slight shift in Jaime’s posture that makes Sebastian regret shattering the fragile moment. He wants to take it back, but before he can, Jaime speaks up, soft and tentative.

“I like to run,” he says. “I used to like to run.”

Sebastian takes that in, along with the desperate longing in his voice. He wonders when the last time was that Jaime got to run freely.

“Well,” Sebastian says, leaning forward. “I can honestly say I’ve never related to something less in my life. But this is a pretty quiet street and it probably wouldn't kill me to invest in my cardiovascular health every once in a while, so if you ever want a buddy to go running with…”

He trails off when the full intensity of Jaime’s big, brown eyes turn on him.

“What?” Sebastian asks, immediately worried he has said something wrong.

Jaime takes a minute to study his face, then swallows. “You would let me run?”

Don’t react. Don’t fucking react, because breaking down into tears as the raw, earnest hope in his expression isn’t going to help anyone.

“Sure,” Sebastian says, though a little bit of the vowel gets lost in his throat.

“And you would… come with me?”

Sebastian shrugs. “If you wanted me to, yeah. Though I make no promises you won’t have to fireman-carry me back when I pass out from exhaustion.”

That wide-open gaze lingers on him for a little while longer before Jaime blinks and turns back to the task at hand. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

They let the music claim the room once again. The next time Sebastian glances his way, Jaime’s finger is tapping against the spoon.

--

TAG LIST: @whumpervescence @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump @nicolepascaline @anotherbluntpencil @hold-him-down @crystalquartzwhump @maracujatangerine @batfacedliar-yetagain @thecyrulik @van-whumps @finder-of-rings @melancholy-in-the-morning @insaneinthepaingame @skyhawkwolf @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @mylifeisonthebookshelf @dont-touch-my-soup @whump-world @inpainandsuffering @cicatrix-energy @quietly-by-myself @whumpsday @extemporary-whump @the-whumpers-grimm @thebirdsofgay @firewheeesky @whumperfully @hold-back-on-the-comfort @termsnconditions-apply @cyborg0109

[atorionsbelt]

some thoughts on 3x11 mom city:

i almost wish… we had gotten the chance to see jamie have a panic attack, or an overwhelmed pause regarding everything that he’s been dealing with beneath the surface over the course of the series, especially as a parallel to ted. to be taken seriously in that moment and for the audience to be put directly in his headspace; helpless debilitating fear of possibly seeing his father again. a beat of quiet where the world stops and slows down for a minute. joining in breath and stillness and the comfort its met with. roy and/or keeley being there for him, ted in the aftermath. a notable conversation about boundaries, attachment, guilt.

of course, i never want to magnify the pain of my favorite characters more than any of the circumstances they’ve already been dealt — this would’ve been a natural response many people experience after his severe level of trauma. after it’s been all piled up and up until he can’t ignore it for any longer. after the root of his ptsd has relentlessly lurked unpredictable and inescapable just out of frame, and seemingly threatens to again.

the mom city boot room scene doesn’t necessarily have to be replaced by this, if anything it played an essential part in the duality of depression and how it appears. big outbursts of emotional distress that avoid the event that upset you in the first place; a cry for help, a distraction, a release for what you’re carrying inside even though you can’t admit it’s real quite yet. then the other half. the suffering in the silence; disassociation, drowning until only the numbness remains “like it’s in my soul.”

i know it’s tough subject matter, but it would’ve been so poignant and vital to such a significant part of jamie’s characterization. then comes the topic of forgiveness.

before it was revealed jamie’s dad was in rehab, when he said it was freaking him out that he couldn’t find him in the crowd, i had almost thought ted would tell jamie that they had james sr. permanently banned from his matches after wembley. that he was finally free from him now. assuring jamie he could even get a restraining order if he wanted, evoking a wash of both relief and grief on his face.

regardless of the rehab choice, i always thought it could’ve been one of the most impactful routes to cut ties and go no contact for good just like his mom likely had done. many of us with toxic family members are given no other choice but to do so, it just felt like a golden missed opportunity for healing and cathartic solidarity.

and maybe another solid plotline could’ve been two contrasting sides of forgiveness. ted’s advice vs roy/keeley’s. they would have no hesitation telling jamie that any man alive who abuses him deserves nothing less than losing the right to having the honor of jamie as a son. jamie’s dad stopped being his dad a long time ago. ted is in the dark about how truly bad it is, and biased by his own experience of loss, it doesn’t do the scene justice standing on its own. keeley knows him most intimately, and roy may be the only one that knows about the amsterdam SA. give him options: jamie doesn’t need to forgive him right now or ever, or thank him for a lesson no one should have to learn, or feel that he owes him any help that he himself was never given. just let him go. jamie’s still in his 20s, still closer to being an impressionable kid, still holding onto a burden keeping him from total freedom and autonomy that was never his responsibility. he struggles with self worth and detaching his identity from his dad. he can always change his mind later on about how he feels, but separation and safety should be his priority in order to ever fully cope and move forward. to mourn the loss of his own youth to confusion and torment.

well aware jamie’s friends aren’t verified therapists like dr sharon, but nonetheless, for the sake of communicating a message for the end of the episode, if both jamie and ted lasso viewers were to be presented with more than one singular take on such a delicately personal situation there would be less room for misinterpretation and which behavior is actually being praised — especially under an episode umbrella theme concerning the value in being given second chances.

[ryuichirou]

Complicated relationships with Leona?? Do you guys feel comfortable elaborating?

It’s kind of hard to talk about it, the thing is, this man stole my car, burnt my house down and also owes me money….   

In all seriousness, we just find him kind of boring and overrated, and think that his chapter was the weakest when it comes to writing. I’m especially bitter about it because I really wanted to like Leona; Scar’s always been my favourite Disney villain (I’m basic), so I was already pretty biased and ready to forgive a lot of things, but it didn’t happen lol Leona just… doesn’t really have the same charisma, I guess?

His motivation is also all over the place. What does Leona want?

It’s not like he wasn’t loved – he is loved; it’s not like he wasn’t appreciated for his good qualities – Falena recognized that he’s smart and told him that they could really use his wisdom (it was Leona who refused him); it’s not like he doesn’t have any power and can’t do anything – he has an entire dorm to lead and tons of money to use. If Leona truly wanted to do something meaningful, he could’ve done it, he just doesn’t want to. But he’ll still complain about it. Because he wants ~the crown~

To be completely fair, I don’t mind his motivation being so focused on the crown itself and the fact of him wanting to be a king, but I wish the story would commit to it more? I’m still not sure if it recognizes how ridiculous Leona’s laments are. Some characters seem to be aware, like Lilia and Ruggie, for example. But it doesn’t go further than that.

Moreover, when Leona has a second “chance to shine” in the 6th chapter, he just ends up telling Jamil how to live his life during their entire quest. And of course, the things he’d said to Jamil were pretty valid and justified I guess, and I’m glad Jamil heard some of these things. Very perceptive of you, Leona, but pretty much everything you’ve said also applies to you. Why didn’t we get a “wait a minute, you whiny hypocrite, why are you telling Jamil this when you have the same problem that you don’t really want to fix?”? Of course, Jamil is too cautious to say something like this to Leona, but…

But we never talk about Leona’s bad qualities in general, do we? We can talk about him being lazy all we want, but not him being a petty spoiled child who has pretty much anything he wants but still complains all the time about life being unfair to him.

The fact that he pretty much told Ruggie, a guy from the slums, than both of them were born unlucky, is still bonkers to me. Not because of the fact that he’s said it (doesn’t necessarily make him a badly written character, in fact, it could’ve been fun), but because of all the layers of irony that never really get acknowledged properly. Like… It’s funny, because Ruggie challenges the unfairness of his life: he studies in a great college, he makes connections, he steals some expensive stuff from Leona, he brings home food, for fuck’s sake. He changes his own situation little by little, by fair means or not.

And with everything that was happening in the 2nd chapter, I would assume that Leona shares this sentiment: if you can’t change your life by fair means, do something shady and get what you want this way. This is what Scar did, and what Leona tried to do, but the moment his plan was ruined, he just went “well I don’t care anymore” and never cared or did anything ever since. Just whined.

I also want to stress that our main issue isn’t the fact that he’s an asshole and a hypocrite: we love assholes and hypocrites, all of our favourite characters in any piece of media are assholes and hypocrites. But they’re fun to watch and fun to listen to, and Leona is neither of these things.

The fact that he doesn’t learn from his mistakes also isn’t a problem. Azul didn’t learn that scamming naïve people is bad after his book, the only thing he’s learnt is that he should probably get over the fact that he was a chubby kid and that he’s a hardworking guy and a very nice person overall. If anything, Azul only became worse after his book lol but it makes everything better! It works for Azul’s character, it makes him interesting. We’ve learnt about how horribly he’s been treated, we pitied him, we felt bad for him and we found out why he is the way he is. But he’s still hilariously insufferable, as he should be.

So yeah. I guess I am confused about what we’re supposed to feel towards Leona. Are we meant to feel sorry for him? Because to us it was pretty much impossible: can’t really feel bad for a guy who has everything within his reach, yet does nothing and complains about life being unfair. Are we meant to be annoyed with him? But it’s not the “fun” annoyance, it’s just… “yeah yeah keep whining”; listening to Idia feels much different, for example. Idia’s funny.

At least make Leona funny, goddamnit. Everyone should make fun of Leona more, that would make his character better. Because right now he’s pretty “eh” to us. Do something, lion man.

Maybe if twst didn’t have such a big and amazing cast of fun characters, Leona wouldn’t look as bad, but when pretty much every single other character has something interesting to offer, being mediocre is a serious crime. And because of how underwhelming his chapter was, we don’t really want to dive into more content with him (i.e. vignettes and such): they would give us some additional “meat” to his character, but it wouldn’t really fix the problem of his “core” being boring, I guess.

[raineandsky]

Pinky promise

aka #13.2 (Part 1) (Part 2)

“Isn’t this wonderful?” the hero asks with a blissful sigh. “I can’t wait to have this time with you every evening once we’re married.”

The situation, in fact, is less than wonderful. The past four days here have been even less than that. The villain is sat at the head of the ridiculously long dining table – not of their own will, if the tightness of the leather straps over their wrists are anything to go by – and of all twenty seats around it, the hero chose the one directly next to them. Obviously.

“Delightful,” the villain says flatly, and their abhorrent beloved laughs brightly as if this is all perfectly normal.

The hero has made it perfectly clear what the deal is in the first twenty-four hours. The supposed beautiful guest room he kicked them into has unwelcoming bars across the window, chains locked to the walls with the threat of their use. The entire place is one giant jail cell, especially for them. They miss their own bedroom – comfortable, modest, and homing someone they actually love.

But here they are instead, strapped into a plush chair that gets more uncomfortable with every passing moment, staring into the untouched meal on the table in front of them, subtly turning away from the fork in the hero’s hand as he rambles on aimlessly about the wedding he’s so certain will happen.

“… oh, we’ll need flowers too. Bouquets.” This one day seems to be all he exists for. It’s embarrassing. “The local florist owes me a favour after I stopped his shop collapsing in on itself. I’ll get him to come tomorrow.”

“I’m surprised the agency doesn’t have anything to say about you being here all the time,” the villain says shortly. He seems to be wandering the corridor outside their room at all hours of the day, and they daren’t think about why he’s out there so often. They can only be thankful he stays out there.

“Ah, I have time off,” he reflects with an idle wave of his hand. “I wanted time for us to plan our big day properly, you know?”

“Of course,” is all they can be bothered to say.

-

The hero dumps the villain back in their lush prison after dinner. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he says lightly from the doorway. His phone rings from his pocket and he frowns as he pulls it out, tsking when he sees the name on the screen. “Ugh, it’s my boss. Goodnight, love.”

He’s answering the call before he even shuts the door, the phone to his ear as the door softly clicks closed behind him. The villain sinks into the bed with a sigh, listening to his footsteps receding back into the house with confusion. The telltale clunk of the lock turning hasn’t followed the door shutting, and he’s leaving, distracted. Is this… a chance?

They leap back to their feet eagerly, crossing the floor to the door. They rest their hand on the handle, their freedom resting on its ability to turn. They twist it testily, having to hold in their audible excitement when the knob follows them - the door slowly swings open, and the villain peeks into the corridor beyond. The hero has disappeared deeper into the house, his voice echoing off the walls like a warning.

They slip around the door cautiously, keeping their attention pinned to the laugh drifting down the hall. If the past four days have taught them anything, they’re pretty sure the hero’s in the living room – second door down the hall on the left. If they can get past that door without him noticing them, they have a shot at aiming for the one door he hasn’t locked or barricaded.

They creep as close as they dare, listening more intensely to his conversation than they have anything ever in their life. “No, I have to do stuff tomorrow,” he says idly. They can hear the clinking as he probably swings their room key in his hand, oblivious. “Like I said, I have toni– no, I’m busy tomorrow. Already made plans.”

The villain risks a peek around the door. He’s sitting on the sofa, thankfully turned towards the windows to the darkness outside, his arm propped up on the back of the chair to hold his phone to his ear. “Yeah. I’m gonna be planning stuff.” There’s a pause, and in the window’s reflection they can see how his face scrunches up slightly. “Your birthday isn’t for another five months, dumbass. You wish.”

They decide to take the risk, ducking down slightly to sweep past the doorway. Their efforts don’t go unnoticed – the hero’s eyes flit up as their movement flashes across the window’s traitorous mirror, and he twists on the sofa to glance at the doorway. “Yeah, uh, hold on, I– no, I’ll get back to you.”

The words are all the encouragement they need as they cross the hallway as quietly as they can manage. His voice is changing – he’s moving, coming to the door. “Yeah, there’s a stray cat outside. Real pretty one, too. I’ll go get it and I’ll call you back in five.”

The phone beeps as it hangs up, and the villain darts into the tussle of coats hanging by the front door. They’re so close, the door practically in reach, but they can just see the hero as he pads out from the living room, glancing up and down the corridor with a frown.

“[Villain]?” he calls, and for a moment he sounds almost uncertain. He grips the key in his hand more firmly as he wanders up the hall towards their room, and they see their chance. They slip out from behind the coats silently, watching as he pauses at their door before they turn back to their door to freedom. The key is sitting in the lock, rather stupidly, and the hero only notices they’re out when the key clunks loudly as it turns in their hand.

“[Villain]!” he calls again, distinctly frantic, but he only gets halfway down the corridor before they wrench the door open. He skids to a halt as they do, simply watching as they make their great escape.

They only get their foot out of the door before they freeze as well. The superhero is standing on the hero’s porch, giving them a blunt onceover, clearly not expecting to see the villain here. “Hello,” he says formally after a second, though there’s an underlying confusion laced into his tone.

“[Superhero]!” the hero shouts to him from the hall. All this guy seems to do is say people’s names today, they think idly. “[Superhero], they’ve robbed me! Stop them from getting away!”

The villain turns to stare at him somewhat incredulously, and the superhero is very much doing the same. It’s only when they take their opportunity to bolt that he stops them, grabbing the sleeve of their jacket in a fierce grip. “Absolutely not,” he says with more authority. He’s more in his element dealing with apparent criminals, clearly. “Inside.”

This can’t be happening. “No, [Hero], he’s been–”

“I didn’t ask for excuses,” the superhero snaps over them coldly. “Now, get inside.”

They catch a glimpse of the hero’s sickening glee at their failure as the superhero shoves them back through the doorway, slamming the door to freedom closed behind them.

Taglist: @anonymousewrites  @suck-my-clit-loser

[the-wizard-writes]

Urban Fantasy Stories: Vampy

//Being a vampire in a non- creature friendly area can be tough. But, at least you can find someone who can help you out when you need some comfort. aka. This story is also inspired by a tiktok I found.  //

“Hey Dork! Think fast!”

Julian glanced up and winched as a paper ball was thrown at his face. From the front of the classroom two students were laughing making jokes about the young man in the back of the class. The vampire scrunched up as he continued to scribble in his notebook. He was use to the bullies' antics. “Aww, what’s the matter pale face? Not going talk?” One older boy teased. The bully snatched the book from Julian flipping through the pages. “Oh my god, Hah! This is gold!”

The vampire stood up, trying to reach for his book. The bully held his hand high up with the still open book in his hand. “Aww, Come on bat face, fly up and get it like all you little freaks can!” He taunted, one of the bullies pulled on his pointy ears. “OOooOoOO, a scary nerd. Soooo scary!”  “Ow!! Stop it!!” 

“Leave him alone!”

The two bullies turn around to see a young woman stand up from her desk hurling insults towards the two. “The bell is wrong with you huh? You all just wanna mess with him cause he quiet? He doesn’t even do anything to you!” She shouted. One of the bullies scoffed, “Geez calm down, this doesn’t concern you.” The other one nodded in agreement. Julian was on the floor scattering to pick up his notebook blushing mad from all the people staring at the scene. The girl placed a well manicured hand on her hip and pointed at the bullies. “You are just so damn annoying you know that? No one likes you two cause you always wanna stir up drama. You ain’t that tough, you just wanna act tough so that no one will know how much of a pussy y’all are.” She snapped. The bully slammed the notebook on Julian's desk getting into the girls face. “What are you going to do about it huh?” He taunted. With one swift motion the girl punched the bully in the face. The bully stumbled into some desk holding his nose. “Come on, Square up. You got punched once, you wanna act all bad and stuff.” She yelled in his face.  “Fight! Fight! Fight!” The other students in the classroom chanted. “Ugh, that’s why you’re a psycho bitch Alejandra. Everyone knows it!” He shouted.  Alejandra punched is back hard repeatedly. “Psycho bitch huh? Come on then! If I’m such a psycho then fight then!” She yelled. Julian slowly crept out of the rowdy classroom and out in the hall. Even though skipping class was wrong he really didn’t want to be in there with those guys again. Expecially now that they humiliated him even more in class. He just wanted a quiet place to be by himself. Julian curled himself behind a trash bin whimpering. Why did he have to be here? His mother told him that it would take time to adjust to moving into a new country but, deep down he really missed his home. He missed being with his family and his old home but, since he moved he hasn’t heard from anyone. Especially his father. The vampire curled his knees to his chest sobbing quietly to himself. He just wanted to go home..

“Hey..uhh.. are you okay?” A voice called out to him. The shy vampire lifted his head up tears streaming down his pale face. It was the girl that stood up for him.  Alejandra was it? The name remined him of some of the girls names that he knew back in the old country. Names like, Mariana and Belladonna were common back home. Alejandra crouched down next to him, she placed a hand on his shoulder comforting him. “Hey, Don’t cry. Those guys aren’t going to mess with you now.” She said. “You’re safe here.”   The vampire slowly lifted his head, tears ran down his reddened cheeks, his red eyes gazing back at her. He wasn’t used to being comforted like this, especially by a human. The vampire wiped his tears with his sleeve. “You know that you will get in trouble when you go back to class right… You.. You really didn’t need to follow me…” he croaked sniffling. Alejandra smiled, rolling her eyes. “Ugh, so what. I don’t care. Those jerks made you cry. I think that’s more important than any stupid lesson.” She admitted. Alejandra scooted closer to him. “Besides. You’re much better company than anyone in that class. It’s so loud and annoying.”

A thin smile appeared on his face when she said that.

“I..I do not know why you like to hang out with me…I’m not cool like your friends..”

“What do you mean? You are my friend!”

“W.. What..!?”

“Yeah!” She exclaimed. “Sure I have my girlfriends but, I consider you a friend too!”

Julian’s face flushed as he turned away from her, his pointy ears flushed pink to make Alejandra laugh. “Aww, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make you blush.”

“N.. No.. It’s okay..” the vampire mumbled. “I don’t mind…”

Alejandra beamed, she grabbed the already flustered vampire’s hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from all these bullies tryin’ to mess with you! Someone as sweet as you doesn’t deserve to be picked on.” She stated.

The vampire’s face perked up and for once in school he actually smiled. “Whoa.” Alejandra said. “You really do have some fangs Huh?”

Julian quickly covered his mouth. He knew that some humans already knew that he was a vampire but he didn’t really show his fangs a lot. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized.

“Nah, it’s cool. I think your fangs are really cool!”

“Really?”

“Totally! Oh! And your nails too!”

Julian examined his claws with a confused look. “Thank you…?”

Alejandra gasped and held out his hand. “oooOOoH! I know exactly what color would look good on you too! How about you meet me after school and I can do your nails for you!”

Julian looked at his claws and looked back at her. He nodded. “O.. Okay..! I don’t mind.”