#i hope someone loves me enough to forgive me my shit moments the way the teen wolf fandom does their show

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Summary: A baby shower has you reuniting with Eddie (and Harris). Unbeknownst to Eddie, it's right when he'll need you most--but is he ready to forgive?

Warnings: mention of pregnancy, small allusion to sex, mentions of Grandma Sweetheart's death, mentions of learning disability

WC: 7.4k

Chapter 11/20

Divider credit to @saradika

Mid-January in Hawkins is cold, with temperatures in the mid-30s, but a bundled-up Harris Munson is unfazed. Eddie happily watches as his son practically flies across the empty playground and heads straight for the swingset. In the warmer weather, it’s a coveted spot amongst the kids and usually ends in a battle, but the chill in the air means that Harris doesn’t have to fight for a turn. 

“Daddy! Uncle Jeff!” he calls out, voice muffled by the blue scarf securely wrapped around the lower half of his face, “come push me!”

Jeff laughs with a shake of his head as he and Eddie trudge across the frost-covered grass. “You heard the man.”

“Ready to have a little gremlin of your own?” Eddie teases, hoisting Harris onto the swing, making sure his bottom is squared on the rubber surface. He catches a glimpse of the baby swing to his right, and his heart pangs at the memory of Harris being tiny enough to fit in there. “Lemme tell ya, it goes by quick. The days are long but the years are short.”

Jeff just gives a little nod, and Eddie can tell that he doesn’t quite believe him. “I’m serious, man. And all that stuff they say about not knowing what love is until you have kids? Man, I thought that was the biggest crock of shit. Like, of course I know what love is! I love my music, my uncle, even you guys,” he adds with a gleam in his eyes, referring to his former bandmates. “And then Harris was born, and I was like, ‘holy shit, this is what it means to love someone.’” He positions himself behind the swing, giving Harris another big push before stepping aside to let Jeff have a turn. 

Jeff looks at him incredulously. Eddie Munson is no stranger to a good rant, but never one this vulnerable. He’s speechless for a moment before clearing his throat. “Th-Thanks, Ed,” he manages, offering the white paper bag he’d picked up on the way to the playground. “Y’still like peanut butter creme donuts, right?”

“Hell yes!” Eddie cheers, pumping his fist in excitement. He reaches into the bag and pulls out the chocolate frosted confection, taking a huge bite triumphantly. “‘M tellin’ ya: Em and Abi’s Gourmet Donuts is the best thing about this town,” he exclaims with a mouthful of peanutty filling. 

“Really?” Jeff chuckles, taking a honeycomb donut from the bag. “Better than a certain preschool teacher you may or may not be infatuated with?”

A blush creeps into Eddie’s cheeks, and he hopes he can pass it off as a reaction to the winter winds. “Not in front of…” he trails off, jerking his head in the direction of his son. 

“Got it, got it,” Jeff smoothly agrees, but he still presses the topic in a roundabout way. “But, uh, any luck with that?”

“Nope,” Eddie cuts him off. “I’ve just been giving her space like you said, but she hasn’t reached out or asked about tutoring again.” He shrugs as though it doesn’t bother him, but both he and Jeff know that that can’t be further from the truth. 

Jeff gives Harris a big push, smiling when he hears the boy’s giggle. “You haven’t called or anything?” he asks. 

“Once, after I saw her during drop-off.” Eddie admits, twisting the ring on his pinky finger. “Left a message but she never called back.”

He plays it back in his head, a constant loop that he’d practically memorized before relaying it to your answering machine. As much as he wanted to resolve everything sooner rather than later, he was embarrassingly relieved when he’d heard your outgoing message. Still, the sweetness of your recorded voice was honeyed tea on a dreary day, and he didn’t anticipate his breath to hitch when it played. 

“H-Hey, Sweetheart. Shit, can I call you that? Um, anyway, give me a call when you can. I think we should talk.”

The two men take turns pushing Harris and chasing him around the playground. At one point, Harris makes his way to the pole, painted school bus yellow. He reaches out with two chubby hands, but his feet stay grounded on the platform. “‘M scared,” he whimpers, still clinging to the pole. 

“You got this, Mini Munson!” Jeff cheers, frowning when Harris remains in place. “Tell ya what: if you slide down the pole, I’ll make your dad do it, too.” He grins mischievously, and Eddie would discreetly flip him the bird if he didn’t have a better alternative. 

“Yeah, bud, and then Uncle Jeff will go after me.” He mouths a silent ha at his friend, but neither seem to mind. 

And after a few seconds of deliberation, Harris flings his body forward and slowly makes his way down, hands squeaking along the metal.

“I did it!” he announces triumphantly, turning to Eddie. “Your turn, Daddy!”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbles, but a smile dances on his lips. He darts up the jungle gym steps and hangs onto the pole. He could simply put his feet down and touch the ground, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, he lets out a high-pitched, “wheeeee!” as Harris cackles loudly. 

He claps Jeff on the back once his shoes touch the rubber turf. “You’re up, big boy.”

Jeff follows suit, mimicking Eddie and making Harris laugh even harder. 

“Uncle Jeff, you’re so silly!” he exclaims, using hands and feet to clamber back up to the top and slide down the pole; this time, there’s no hesitation. 

Harris repeats the routine again and again until Eddie catches a glimpse of the digital watch around his wrist. “We gotta leave in five minutes, Har Bear,” he reports matter-of-factly, hoping his lack of emotion will ward off any impending tantrums. 

Harris’s lower lip juts out as his pupils dart back and forth between Eddie and Jeff. “Aw, why?”

Eddie crouches down to match his son’s height, pressing palms to his knees for stability. “We’re gonna help Uncle Jeff pack up the presents from the baby shower, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” He pauses, pursing his lips in concentration. “How did the baby get in Auntie Viv’s tummy?”

Jeff’s eyes widen at the question, and he glances at Eddie, silently willing him to say something. Eddie clears his throat, wracking his brain for a response that will placate his son’s curiosity without giving away too much information. “Um, well,” he begins, biting the inside of his cheek to buy himself more time before settling on: “when a man and a woman love each other, that love can make a baby.”

Fortunately, Harris seems satisfied with that answer, and Jeff hands him a chocolate donut to distract him from asking anything else. The boy plunks down in the grass a few paces ahead of them and takes a big bite.

“How is it?” Jeff calls to him, chuckling when Harris responds with a chocolate crumb-covered thumbs up and turns his attention back to the dessert. “Nice save,” he says to Eddie, clapping a hand on his shoulder and giving him a little shake. “But what are you gonna say when he asks about his mom?”

“Jesus H; he’s gonna have to give me a few years to come up with an answer for that one.”

Despite every cell in your body urging you to stay away, you’re back in Hawkins. More specifically, you’re in Viv and Jess’s parents’ house, cleaning up after an overall successful baby shower. You’re spooning the leftover food into Tupperware while Jess washes dishes and her girlfriend, Robin, dries and puts them in their respective cabinets.

You’d returned to Grandma’s apartment last night after Jess begged you to come to the shower, lamenting that the party was going to be all of her sister’s lame friends and she needed someone actually fun to hang out with her and Robin. Her insistence, coupled with your desire to finish out the remainder of the school year, is why you’d tossed your suitcases into your sedan and made the trek. Yup, those were the only reasons; certainly nothing to do with–

“Have you talked to Eddie since you got back?”

His name alone brings a surge of emotions, none of which you have the energy to identify. “No,” you mumble, a heat blooming in your cheeks, “he left a message a week ago saying ‘we should talk,’ but I didn’t return it.”

Jess snaps off the faucet, hands still dripping with soapy water as she places them on her hips with an exasperated sigh. “What? Why not?”

“Because.” You try to leave it at that, but her defiant glare obligates you to elaborate. “Because I’m embarrassed!” you admit to Jess and Robin–and to yourself. “The guy practically chased me down the night we met, and now that he got to know me, he doesn’t want to sleep with me? Is my personality that much of a turn-off?” You snap the lid on a plastic container, desperate to end the conversation with your rhetorical question, but your friend keeps going.

“Look, I don’t know him that well–only what I’ve heard from you and Jeff–but he seems to really care about you. Jeff says he hasn’t seen Eddie down this bad, like, ever.” She lowers her voice. “Apparently, some old hookup was coming onto him, and he turned her down because he's, quote, involved with someone.” She raises her eyebrows inquisitively, though you both know that the someone in question is you.

“Wait, hold on–Eddie Munson?” Robin breaks in, nearly dropping the serving spoon in her hand when she makes the connection. “Metalhead, senior year three-peat, alleged Satan-worshiper Eddie Munson?”

“Well, the jury’s out on whether I worship Satan or I actually am Satan, but, yep, that’s me.” The familiar voice from the kitchen doorway startles the three of you; this time, Robin does let the oversized utensil fall to the floor with a clang. 

Nerves send your heartbeat into a frenzy, and you have to rest your open palm on the countertop to steady yourself. Eddie stands before you, tip of his nose tinged red from the cold, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Wh-What are you doing here?” You whisper the words, but you might as well be shouting with the level of anxiety steadily rising in your chest.

Eddie rocks back and forth from the soles of his feet to his toes. “Jeff asked us to help him load the gifts into the car.”

“Us?”

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris flings himself into your embrace, and as soon as you stoop down to reciprocate his hug, he’s wrapping his arms and legs around your torso. “I miss you! When are we gonna do the alphabet and eat pizza again?”

Eddie looks over at Jeff; you hadn’t even noticed the other man behind him until Eddie’s gaze drifted over. You watch as the two men exchange a knowing glance, and Jeff quickly speaks up. “Hey, Har,” he motions the boy over to him, “why don’t you use your super strong arms to bring stuff out to the car? I bet you have bigger muscles than me.”

Harris begrudgingly lets go of you, sliding to the floor and dragging his feet to Jeff. He heaves a dramatic sigh and grumbles, “fiiiiiine,” and you and Eddie have to hold back your laughter at his theatrics.

“He is definitely my kid,” Eddie says once Harris has left the room and is out of earshot. He walks closer to you as you turn back to packing up the food. “You, um, never called me back,” he murmurs, placing one hand on either side of you, his chest almost touching your back. Robin and Jess creep out of the kitchen as quietly as possible, leaving you and Eddie alone.

You clear your throat and swallow your fear. “I didn’t have anything to say.” That’s a lie; there was so much you wanted to confide in him, but the thought of him rejecting you again, or getting another glimpse of the hurt you caused reflected in his deep brown eyes, kept you from returning his call.

“Well, I did.” His tone is calm but firm. “I just need to know one thing, and then I swear I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want.” He pauses, gathering up his own courage before speaking again. “That day…why did you ask me to sleep with you?” 

“I told you,” you say, desperately trying to keep your voice from wobbling, “because I needed to feel something.”

Eddie shakes his head, stepping back and crossing his leather jacket-clad arms over his chest. “No, but why did you ask me? Why didn’t you go to the Hideout and pick up some random dude?” His volume starts to rise, and he clenches his fist and drags it back down as if reminding himself to be quieter. “Was it, like, a convenience thing, or did you really think I’d be okay having sex with you while you were so upset?”

Your heart pangs at his question. It had never even occurred to you that he’d perceive it that way. Were you being selfish? Taking what you felt you needed? Admittedly, yes. But were you asking Eddie specifically because he happened to be there? Absolutely not. “No, Eddie,” you say, forcing yourself to face him, “it’s because…because I knew you’d take care of me. If I wanted to stop or slow down, I knew you’d listen. I trust you.” Speaking the truth aloud is like letting the air out of an overfilled balloon on the cusp of popping. Both you and Eddie visibly relax, easing a tension you hadn’t realized he was also holding. 

The room is quiet for a moment. Eddie’s knee softly bumps against your thigh as he wills himself to close the gap he’d created. “You said something in your message about it never being meaningless. Not even the night we…we met.”

The reminder of your confession floods you with humiliation. You—unsuccessfully—threw yourself at him for sex and then left a message saying that you’ve been clinging to the hope of a relationship since your alcohol-laden first hook-up. How humiliating. 

“I’m sorry if that was weird, but I told Jess that I’ve never been good at one-night stands. I always get too attached.” And it doesn’t help when I have to see the guy and his adorable son twice a day, you think wryly, but you store that anecdote inside. 

Eddie shakes his head, lacing his ringed fingers with your bare ones. The pad of his thumb brushes against the knuckle of yours, both comforting you and zapping electricity through your body. “No, ‘s not weird,” he reassures you, giving your hands a squeeze. “I felt the same way, even if I didn’t realize it. I think that’s why I asked you to stay, why I held you…I’ve never done that before.” He’s sheepish but not ashamed; if he’s being honest, he’s pretty damn proud of himself for admitting it aloud. 

You tilt your chin up knowingly. “Yeah, I heard you shut down a sure thing because of your involvement with someone.”

Your emphasis of that one word has Eddie dropping his head, letting go of one of your hands and covering his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Damn, word spreads around here like it’s the five o’clock news. But, uh, yeah, I did. Turn her down.” His tongue darts out to coat his dry lips. “Not that it’s any of my business, but did you, um, see anyone over the holidays?” 

“Nope.” You shake your head, bracing yourself for what you’re about to tell him. Even though he’s the one holding you, allowing your bodies to intertwine, it’s nerve-wracking to be so vulnerable. You forge ahead, allowing the words to tumble out of your mouth. “I…I only want you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s breath gets caught in his throat. Want want want. Present tense, not past. “Want, like, present tense? Like you still feel that way?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t reek of desperation for a millisecond before realizing that he doesn’t care, as long as you still want him.

“Is that okay?” Your voice is small, an almost comic contrast from the bravado you used during your last in-person encounter. 

“It’s more than okay, Sweetheart.” Eddie’s whisper matches yours. His thumb ghosts over the plush of your lips as his hand slips to your cheek, bringing his remaining four fingers behind your ears and to the nape of your neck. He leans in, drawing you closer with his tantalizing smoky scent and raw desire. One step in, noses nudging together–

“Daddy, look at me!”

Eddie whips his head around at the sound of Harris’s voice, nearly crashing against yours, and you stumble backwards into the counter, wincing as you make contact with the linoleum. You bite back the string of swear words on your tongue, both at the pain and the missed kiss.

Jeff is panting as he chases after him, bending forward at the waist and resting his palms on his thighs. “I tried to keep him entertained, but I was not prepared for this level of energy,” he huffs, chest rising and falling with each heaving breath. His eyes dart between you and Eddie, easily picking up on the guilty looks on your faces. He mouths “sorry” and shrugs, but the moment is already over.

Harris, oblivious to the burgeoning tension in the room, tugs on his dad’s sleeve in a demand for attention. “Daddy, wanna see me lift stuff?” He jumps up and down as he asks, making his words vibrate. “Uncle Jeff says I’m the strongest kid in the world!” He opens his arms the entire length of his wingspan to emphasize his point.

“Uh, y-yeah; sure, bud.” Eddie stammers. He looks over at you and you follow his lead, watching as Harris lifts a box of diapers with a dramatic grunt. When Eddie is sure that his son has fully turned around, he grabs your hand once more and gives it a little squeeze. “We’ll pick up where we left off later,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, and it sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Ms. Sweetheart, you watch, too!” Harris insists; so you do, trailing after him all the way to Jeff’s car. Unable to see over the box, he walks it right into the back bumper, and Eddie has to step in and help him.

Once the diapers have been tetris'd into the trunk, Jeff closes the door and slaps it for good measure. “Well, I think that’s everything. Thanks again, Munson…Mini Munson.” He ruffles Harris’s mop of curls with a grin.

Eddie holds out his hand, pulling Jeff in for a hug when he takes it. “Congratulations again, man. I’m really happy for you guys.” And he genuinely is. He can’t wait to see one of his oldest and closest friends experience fatherhood.

He turns to you as Jeff heads back into the house to help Viv to the car. “Did you have anything to eat?” he asks. “I mean, we can go to Benny’s if you want. I was gonna take Harris.” The kid hasn’t had anything since breakfast except the donut, and he’s bound to get cranky sooner rather than later. 

You shake your head. “No, I wasn’t really hungry. But I’m down to split a stack of pancakes with you, if you want?”

“Like you used to do with Grandma?” He remembers you mentioning the tradition during her eulogy. The corners of his lips turn up slightly, though his smile quickly falters when he notices the misty film glazing your eyes. “Sorry, I—”

“I’m good,” you reassure him, dabbing at your lash line with the heel of your hand. “Someone really special once told me that it’s okay to be sad, so I’m kind of giving that a shot.”

This time, Eddie’s grin remains. “Is that a ‘yes’ to the pancakes?”

“Yeah. It’s a yes.” You giggle when Eddie makes a fist and pumps it in celebration. “We usually got blueberry, but I’m down for chocolate chip,” you say, remembering his food preference from your first date.

“Nah, I can get behind blueberry,” he says. What he doesn’t say is that he would eat anchovy pancakes if it meant making you happy. 

“But I want chicken fingers!” Harris scrunches up his nose, and both you and Eddie know that a hungry four-year-old is not to be challenged. 

Eddie scoops Harris up into his arms, smacking a wet kiss to his chubby cheek. One day, his son will wipe them off, but Eddie’s glad that today is not that day. “Then the boy shall have the finest chicken fingers in all of Hawkins!” He declares in a deep voice before winking at you. “More pancakes for me and the pretty lady.”

Harris’s eyes widen. “So you do think she’s pretty–”

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road!” Eddie cuts him off. You duck your head as though that will ward off further questioning from Harris, but not before catching a glimpse of Eddie mouthing, “like a princess.”

You can smell the aroma of the deep fryer as soon as you pull into Benny’s parking lot. Since you drove yourself to the shower, you and Eddie take separate cars and meet there. The small diner isn’t overly crowded, and the three of you squeeze into a booth in the back corner. Eddie sits on one side and you on the other; you assume Harris will slide in next to his dad, but he chooses you instead. 

Your waiter introduces himself as Ryan and places three sets of silverware on the table. He starts to hand you the menus, but Eddie politely shakes his head and tells him, “‘S all good, man. We know what we want.” He orders a plate of chicken fingers and fries for Harris and a short stack of blueberry pancakes for you and him. “Y’want anything to drink?” he asks you, and you contemplate for a moment before ordering a hot coffee, and Eddie gets the same.

“I want a coffee, too,” Harris pipes up, flashing his million-watt grin at Ryan, who holds back a laugh and promises that the food will be right out.

 “So, Harris,” you start, taking a small sip from the glass of ice water in front of you, “how was your Christmas? Get anything good?”

“Mhm!” he chirps, swiveling his body to face yours. “I got a bunch of new Hot Wheels and some cool markers for drawing. They smell like fruits!”

“Very different from when I used to sniff markers back in my day,” Eddie jokes, and you kick his foot lightly in an attempt to silently tell him to behave. His eyes twinkle mischievously when you playfully roll yours.

“That sounds awesome!” you exclaim, bringing your attention back to Harris and adding, “I bet Mr. Will would want to see your new markers if you want to swing by my classroom on Monday.”

Harris’s face lights up, and he claps his hands together in jubilance. “Maybe I can draw something for him!”

“He’d love that,” you tell him, and the little boy squeezes his hands into tiny fists and lets out an excited squeal.

Ryan returns a few moments later balancing a plate of chicken fingers in one hand and the pancakes in the other. Your stomach rumbles; you didn’t realize how hungry you were until you were presented with food. Eddie peels back the film of one of the small plastic syrup containers, positioning it over the pancakes and cocking his eyebrow to get your approval. You nod, and he tilts and swirls it as you watch it drip down the sugary stack. 

“How was your visit with your family?” He doesn’t refer to it as your visit home, because he hopes that you consider Hawkins your home now. He unfurls his napkin and pulls out the fork and knife, cutting into the stack, and you mirror his actions.

Harris stretches his arm out across you, and you realize he’s reaching for the glass ketchup bottle, so you twist off the cap and plop some onto his plate. He dips a fry into it happily. “About as good as it could be,” you answer Eddie. “Everyone kind of tried to act normal, but it was like they were trying too hard, y’know?”

“Was Grandma there?” Harris asks through a mouthful of fried potato.

You bite your lip, not quite sure what he knows and what Eddie wants him to know. Death is a tricky subject to broach with young kids, and you don’t want to say anything that will confuse or scare him. Luckily, Eddie jumps in and comes to your rescue. “Har Bear, remember I told you that Grandma went to Heaven?” He gently reminds his son. “That’s why you made that nice card for Ms. Sweetheart.”

“Oh, yeah.” Harris’s expression morphs from inquisitive to concern, even as he chows down on a chicken finger. “Are you still sad?”

“Sometimes,” you admit, more to yourself than to him, “but it gets a little better every day. And being around my favorite guys helps put me in a good mood.”

Eddie presses a syrupy hand to his chest in mock astonishment. “Who, us?” He smiles and spears another cut of pancake with his fork. “How did you know flattery works with me?”

Before you can formulate a response–something teasing but not overly flirtatious–Harris poses a new question: “Ms. Sweetheart, do you have any babies?”

“Harris!” His son’s name comes out sharper than he intends, but Eddie’s too flustered to think twice. He looks at you apologetically, practically crimson from his cheeks to his ears. “Sorry, he hasn’t stopped talking about babies since I told him about the baby shower.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, giving his hand a small squeeze to show that you truly don’t mind Harris’s curiosity. You look at the boy and tell him, “I don’t have any babies, but I consider all of my students to be my babies.”

“Me, too?”

You chuckle and take a sip of coffee. “Of course, you, too!”

There’s a brief silence as you all eat–Eddie steals a fry from Harris’s plate and shoves it in his mouth before he can get caught. While hilarious, his timing couldn’t be worse, because he has no way of stopping Harris’s next statement:

“You and my daddy could have a baby. Because you’re a woman and he’s a man.” It’s matter-of-fact, said while dunking his food in the ketchup pile, as though this is something everyone drops into normal conversation. “That’s how you get a baby in your tummy like Aunt Viv.” You tuck your lips into your mouth to stifle your laughter, not wanting to reinforce his inadvertently entertaining assertion.

Eddie is far less amused than you are, nearly choking on his swiped French fry. “Chrissakes…” he hisses, ducking and bringing his fist to his forehead, “Harris, eat your chicken fingers, quietly.” He breathes out with a puff of his cheeks as Harris obliges, completely oblivious to the meaning behind his suggestion. 

A beat of awkward silence ensues as you eat a hunk of pancake, warm blueberry juice seeping into your tongue. Grandma used to joke around and say that the blueberries made it a healthy food. “Practically a fruit salad,” she’d tease with a glint of happiness dancing in her eyes. 

Eddie, meanwhile, is desperate for a subject change. His palms are slick from what he’s like to think is merely embarrassment, but it’s multifaceted. The idea of the three of you sitting in Benny’s just as you are now, only you’re eating for two, has his stomach in knots. And if he even dares to dream about what getting you pregnant entails? He’s a goner.  

“Harris has a birthday coming up,” he blurts out a bit too loudly, unable to control his volume. “He’s turning the big, uh, five.” 

You can feel Harris eagerly kicking his legs next to you, so you match his enthusiasm. “Wow, Har! That’s a whole hand!” You hold up five fingers and Harris does the same, bringing his palm to yours.

“Are you gonna come to my birthday party?” He peers up at you with hopeful eyes, and you’re left scrambling for a response that doesn’t give away that you haven’t exactly been invited.

“Oh, I, um…”

“She’s going to check her calendar and see,” Eddie offers, and you exhale at his quick save. Turns his attention to you. “His birthday is February 6, but that’s a Thursday, so we’re gonna do his party that Saturday at the bowling alley. Just me, Wayne, and a couple of the kids from school. And you, if you can make it.” Shit, is he rambling? Was that too much information? You spend every day with kids; would you really want to spend a Saturday afternoon at a birthday party surrounded by them?

He’s not overanalyzing for long before you speak. “That sounds like a lot of fun. Do grown-ups get to bowl, too?” You perch your chin on your hand, blinking to emphasize your curiosity. Bowling has never been your forte, but you imagine you’ll fare quite well compared to a group of five-year-olds. 

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Eddie laughs kindly, letting his arm cross the table so that the back of his fingers can graze your forearm, “that’s a given.”

The three of you head out to your cars—not before you and Eddie argue over who’s going to pay the bill, with you eventually winning the battle. He takes Harris’s right hand as you step off of the sidewalk and into the parking lot, and Harris instinctively slips his left into yours. He walks between you and his dad naturally, as though it’s always been this way. Like you all were a little family that made regular outings for pancakes and chicken fingers.

“Har, go get in your car seat, and I’ll be there in a sec to buckle you in,” Eddie says gently, opening the door for him. 

Harris climbs in clumsily, calling back, “Bye, Ms. Sweetheart!” His farewell ends with a yawn, suggesting that there will be a nap in the near future. 

Eddie closes the door, shoving his hands in his pockets bashfully. It’s one of his nervous quirks, you’ve noticed, and you’re immediately inclined to reassure him about whatever’s on his mind. “Hey, um, could I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.”

“I talked to the people at the school,” he starts, kicking at the gravel under his feet, “and Harris has that evaluation thing on Monday. Would you…”

You don’t even let him finish his request before confirming, “I’ll be there.”

Eddie’s body instantly relaxes, relief flooding through him at your words. “You’re amazing.” He looks around to make sure Harris can’t see before kissing you, lips quickly melding together. He has to pull back before he wants to, before either of you want to, to avoid getting caught. He tastes like coffee and syrup with a hint of berries, though the kiss is too brief to pick up on anything else. A stirring inside you informs you that he could kiss you for hours and it still wouldn’t be enough. “See you, Sweetheart.”

Mondays are characteristically exhausting; kids are home for two days on the weekends and return behaving like they’ve never seen a classroom before. Today is no exception, but the coffee Eddie left on your desk this morning certainly helps. He’d tried to sneak in, but you’d caught him, and it took everything in your power not to plant a kiss on his cheek right then and there. Scrawled on the side of the to-go cup in his messy handwriting were three simple words that made your heart soar: For my Sweetheart. 

What you didn’t know was that Eddie had thought about what he’d wanted to write for the entire car ride. Nothing too clingy, but nothing too distant. Not sappy but not brusque. Even the word my between “for” and “Sweetheart” was daunting; how would you feel about being his? 

By the time the afternoon rolls around, neither of you are too concerned with romantic gestures. You and Eddie sit in the hard plastic chairs outside the school psychiatrist’s office. He’s already answered all of her questions, so now it’s simply a matter of waiting for the observation to end. 

You can hear Harris giggling from the other side of the door, and you look over to smile at Eddie, but he either didn’t hear it or his nerves have built up an impenetrable barrier. 

He exhales slowly, puffing out his cheeks and leaning his head back against the brick wall. It’s a sigh of defeat, not relief, and you lean over and squeeze his hand without a second thought. The edges of his skull ring dig into your palm, but you couldn’t care less. Your only priority is keeping him calm. 

“Hey,” you murmur, crossing one leg over the other. He looks through you, not at you, and you  brush a stray lock of hair from his face to ground him. Once he’s settled, you continue talking. “Everything will be alright. Either he doesn’t have a disability, or we’ll be one step closer to getting him the accommodations he needs.”

Eddie nods. “I know. I just…” He pauses for a beat, struggling to find words that accurately convey his myriad emotions. Besides anxiety about the unknown path that lays before him and Harris, guilt gnaws at him for his past misgivings. The careless sex with Harris’s mom, the stupid fucking tour that he just had to go on while she was pregnant, the blissful ignorance that he could have his cake and eat it, too. “I hate that he can’t learn, like, normally. Like the other kids.”

Your instinct is to tell him that Harris doesn’t need to be like the other kids, that he’s perfectly and unequivocally himself, but that’s not what Eddie needs right now. 

“It’s tough,” you agree, “but Harris is a great kid with big dreams, and he’s not going to let anything stop him. All we have to do is support him along the way.”

Eddie ponders that for a moment, slightly amused at the accuracy of your statement, given what you don’t know. Beyond reading and math–both of which he’s shown improvements in since you’ve begun your tutoring sessions–Harris refuses to give up on his quest to get you and Eddie together. The hand-holding drawing was only the tip of the iceberg; Wayne’s since reported that the boy has asked multiple times about when “Daddy and Ms. Sweetheart will fall in love.” And, of course, he hasn’t stopped talking about your Saturday afternoon diner date, constantly badgering Eddie about whether or not you two were married yet.

Eddie rests his head on your shoulder, curly tendrils tickling your collarbones. All you want is to let him stay there as long as he needs, even if your legs fall asleep, but the nagging thoughts of passersby’s perceptions triumph over your desires. 

“Eddie, I…” you trail off, gently lifting your shoulder so he’ll get the hint without you having to say it aloud. Self-consciousness pinkens his cheeks as he sits up, adjusting his posture and mumbling a soft “sorry” under his breath.

“S’fine,” you rush to reassure him, praying that he doesn’t misconstrue your professionalism with shame of being seen with him. You would comfort any of your students’ parents in times of distress, but let’s face it–you would never snuggle up to Jason Carver or Carol Perkins. “Just don’t wanna be accused of canoodling on the job,” 

He lifts his eyebrows. “Canoodling?”

“It’s a word!”

“You’re the one with the fancy college degree, so I guess I gotta believe you.” 

You giggle softly, brushing his Reeboks with your flats. “Seriously, it’s gonna be okay. Whatever happens, I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. The words replay like an enchanting melody. You’ve got him. You’ve got him, and you’ll have him as long as he vows to hold on.

“Mr. Munson?” 

Eddie’s attention snaps to Ms. Cassie, the school psychologist. Harris darts from her office, a giant smile on his face as he leaps into his father’s arms. “Daddy, we played games! It was lotsa fun!”

“That’s great, Har Bear,” Eddie murmurs into Harris’s scalp. He looks up at Ms. Cassie expectantly. “How did everything go?” Is my son okay? Is there something wrong with him? Is it my fault? He doesn’t dare pose those questions.

The psychologist offers a smile, lacing her fingers together in front of her stomach. “Like Harris said, we had a great time. I’d like to speak with you briefly…” her gaze flits over to the hallway. “Is there someone who could keep an eye on Harris while we talk?”

Eddie’s heart sinks; privately, perhaps naively, he’d been wishing that there wouldn’t be anything else to discuss. Maybe a chipper, everything’s fine; he’ll catch up to the other kids on his own! But nothing so serious that it required an additional meeting.

“My TA can,” you pipe up, remembering that Will had stayed back to prepare an art project for tomorrow morning. Eddie puts Harris down, watching as you take his chubby hand in yours and make your way to your classroom. 

Ms. Cassie starts to wave Eddie into his office, but he shakes his head. “Wanna wait for her to get back,” he tells her, and she nods understandingly. As soon as you return, the two of you take a seat in front of her desk. Paperwork is stacked neatly in piles across the top of it, and framed diplomas line the walls. Board games sit on the shelves, and Eddie can’t help but wonder which ones Harris played this afternoon.

“I want to start off by saying that Harris is one of the sweetest kids I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with,” Ms. Cassie says. Her tone is even and patient, which makes Eddie more anxious. He wants to jump up and demand that she spill the bad news already, but he bites his thumbnail to calm his nerves. You notice the gesture immediately and inconspicuously grab the hand closest to yours, hiding your display of affection below the desk. Eddie grips so tightly that you have to actively suppress a grimace.

“The evaluation indicates that Harris meets the requirements to be classified as a ‘preschooler with a disability,’” she continues, “and as a result, he qualifies for special education services–”

“What the hell does that mean?” You wince at the vitriol in Eddie’s voice, and you rub your thumb over the back of his hand. It brings him back down enough for him to clear his throat and apologize, but you can sense that he’s still on-edge.

“That’s alright, Mr. Munson. You’re not the first parent to react that way, and I’m positive you won’t be the last.” She taps a small pile of papers on her desk to even them out before handing them to him. “The classification means that he will get an Individualized Education Program–IEP for short–that will help us target goals for Harris to make progress alongside his peers.”

Ms. Cassie drones on about short-term and long-term objectives, but Eddie can’t focus on what she’s saying. Preschooler with a disability. My son has a disability because I left, because I wasn’t there, because I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. It’s all my fault. My fault my fault my fault–

“Eddie,” you whisper, but it’s no use. You watch as his ribcage expands and contracts faster with manic breaths, on the verge of hyperventilation. You shoot the psychologist an apologetic glance and pull Eddie from the office before he can launch into a full-blown panic attack. His body is like a ragdoll, and he trails behind you mechanically; if you let go of his hand, he’d probably stop dead in his tracks.

“Baby,” you say, bringing him to an empty classroom. The nickname rolls off your tongue easily despite technically being in your place of work. “Baby, it’s just you and me right now. You’re okay–”

“Harris–disability–my fault.” His words are low and gravelly, but you hear them without having to strain. They’re similar to the sentiments he’d uttered that day at parent-teacher conferences when he’d unexpectedly showed up at your door.

There’s no use trying to convince him otherwise, not when he’s like this, so you try a different approach. “I can talk to Ms. Cassie about rescheduling the meeting. We don’t have to figure everything out right away.” He nods, just a miniscule bob of his head, but it tells you that he’s cognizant enough to comprehend what you’re telling him. “In the meantime, why don’t you go see Harris? I bet he’s drawing something for you.”

That gets a smile out of him. “Y-Yeah, okay.” He doesn’t move; instead, he brings you closer to him and holds you to his chest so close that you can hear his heart beating. His body shakes, but it’s not until you feel a warm teardrop fall from his face onto the top of your head that you realize he’s crying. You wrap your arms around his lithe waist until you feel him begin to steady, staggered breaths becoming fuller. 

Wiping the tear trails from his cheeks carefully, you press a tiny kiss to his nose. “Wash your face and go to my classroom. I’ll meet you there.”

“‘Kay,” he manages, wishing he had the means to express his gratitude for your words, your presence, you. 

When he gets to your classroom, Harris is furiously scribbling on a piece of construction paper with his new markers. Eddie smiles, leaning against the door until Will spots him.

“Harris, your dad’s here!” he announces, and Harris looks up excitedly.

“Daddy!” he exclaims. “I’m almost done with my picture, hold on!” He grabs a blue marker and uncaps it, marking the paper with concentrated dots. He replaces the cover and slides the marker back into the yellow-and-green box. 

He’s always so diligent with his art supplies, Eddie notes.

“Ta-da!” Harris spins the drawing so his dad can see. There’s three people–you, Eddie, and Harris. You’re standing around a large purple rectangle with a line coming out of each corner, which Eddie recognizes as a table. There’s a circle representing the plate of chicken fingers in front of Drawing Harris, and a circle between Drawing You and Drawing Eddie with blueberry pancakes. Just like on Halloween, he’s drawn a smile on everyone’s faces.

“He’s really good,” Will says, and Eddie looks at him in amusement. “Seriously, he is. He’s got great spatial awareness when he draws, which most kids don’t develop until later. And he’s got an eye for detail,” he adds, pointing to the blue dots on the pancakes. “Looks like you’ve got a little artist.”

An artist. Not a failure, not incapable, but an artist. A boy who could grow up and inspire the world with his creativity.

“I love it,” Eddie says finally, reaching out to take the drawing. He frowns when Harris snatches it back.

“This one is for Ms. Sweetheart,” he explains exasperatedly, as though this is something he’s had to repeat multiple times. “We already have one at home, Daddy. Renember?” His pout quickly becomes a grin when he sees you enter the room. “Ms. Sweetheart, I drawed this for you!”

“I love it!” You inadvertently echo Eddie’s statement as you hold the paper to your heart. “This is gonna go on the kitchen wall so you can see it when you come over for tutoring.” You turn to Eddie, eyes warm with understanding. “How are you feeling?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly. “Kinda sad, kinda mad, kinda relieved that there’s an answer.” He scratches at the stubble on his cheeks. “‘M just…really glad I don’t have to go through it alone.”

“I’m always here for you, Eds. You and Harris.”

Eddie’s curls bob up and down as he slowly nods. “Speaking of which, um, you said something about tutoring him? Are you feeling up to it? I can bring pizza—o-or not, if it makes you sad. We could do Chinese or something—”

“Eddie?”

“Ya?”

You look down at the drawing of your little chosen family at Benny’s. It’s certainly different from the times you went with Grandma, but you’re filled with the same feeling of belonging that you’d felt then.

“Extra olives for me, please.”

--

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[skelingtonsderek]

My favorite thing about fandom is how transformative it is like a fan could love the most dogshit fucking terrible piece of crap show and, through their love, make it look like the most amazing, evocative, and breathtaking piece of art imaginable.

[mrzombielover]

- slow ride ch1

feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader

series masterlist | next chapter

warnings: NSFW, enemies to fuckbuddies, adam and reader both suck, unhealthy relationships, size kink oooops, light degradation

a/n: oh my god this is so self indulgent. something is fr wrong with me bc all my favorite men are irrevocably fucked up and toxic and emotionally damaged and would treat me like shit teehee

wc: 2.2k

“You took my shame and you took my pride / And now you gonna take me for a slowride”

When even Charlie is trepidatious about checking someone in to the hotel, you know they’ve fucked up bad.

Adam had shown up, tail between his legs, admitting something about how he’s “desperate enough to try anything,” even this “stupid delusional humiliating hotel.”

Charlie, who’s more like an angel than Adam ever was, had ultimately decided that he could stay. After a lengthy and heated discussion, she’d reminded the group that the hotel’s policy states that everyone deserves a chance at redemption, regardless of the sins they’ve committed. Considering he killed your friend, you thought that was bullshit, but it’s Charlie’s hotel at the end of the day, and you’re just along for the ride.

You like Charlie, which is why you put up with having Adam around. She’s a good person- genuinely, deep down. There’s no hidden motives in her actions. You’ve not met many good people in your life, so she’s won your respect, even if you have your doubts about the hotel’s premise.

But for as much as you love her, you briefly questioned her sanity when she asked you to keep a special eye on Adam.

“…and how exactly is that the job of treasury secretary?” You deadpan.

“Wellll…” Charlie trails off, looking away for a moment. “It isn’t really. Buuut what if I was asking as a favor, for your friend?” She clasps her hands together, giving you a smile. You have to avert your eyes from the hopeful look on her face before your resolve cracks.

“No way in hell,” You say quickly.

“Please!”

“No,”

“Pleaseee!”

You bite your lip as you think. He’s obnoxious, yes, but what’s really the worst that could happen? You close your eyes and sigh.

“…you owe me one,”

You regret accepting every day. Nobody got along with Adam. Well, nobody except for Nifty, who seemed thrilled to have a real bad boy staying in the hotel. You, however, got along with him the least of all.

For someone who’d come to the hotel in his time of need- who was in no position to ask for anything other than forgiveness- Adam sure has a smartass mouth. It seems Charlie just wants to give you a brain aneurysm, that’s why she gave you this job. Even if that wasn’t her goal, that’s certainly the stage you’re approaching, because fighting with Adam everyday is 100% going to make you pop a blood vessel.

You can’t help it. Something about him- the way he acts, the forced proximity, just gets under your skin, makes your eye twitch. He should be groveling, begging for forgiveness, putting his heart and soul into bettering himself, yet all he does is bitch and moan. Constantly complaining would be one thing, hell’s full of whiners, but he also feels the need to voice every thought he’s ever had, which often includes insults and snide remarks about those around him. You’ve never been one to take that shit- though, nobody at the hotel really does. It seems to be much worse with you two, specifically, though.

The problem comes in because, as much as you hate to admit it, you might sometimes occasionally have some things in common with him. No, you’re not quite as loud or crude or obnoxious, you don’t generally insult people for fun, but if someone deserves it?

You’ve tore into people for way less than murdering your friend, showing up on your doorstep and being a pain in your ass 24/7, especially if you’re in a particularly shitty mood. Reduced people to tears for mildly inconveniencing you, having an annoying voice, wasting food, etc etc… all of which Adam does.

Generally, you’re apathetic to what goes on around you, especially at the hotel. You’re fed, don’t have to pay rent, and can pretty much do whatever you want, so dealing with the annoying, traumatized, dramatic residents and staff is a fair trade off in your eyes. Adam should, in theory, be no different than the rest of them to you. So you cannot, for the life of you, figure out what about him makes him so much worse than the rest.

You just try not to think about him as much as possible. But when you ignore him, he just seems to get worse.

“Jesus, you don’t think it’s a bit early to start drinking?”

You mentally groan as you hear his voice, avoiding eye contact as you crack open the bottle.

“I mean, Isn’t this shithole supposed to be for rehabilitation?” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he opens the fridge.

“Why don’t you focus on your own rehab first, dick? Been weeks now and you’re still an asshole,” You snap, before taking a swig of your beer. He shrugs, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and placing it on the counter. He walks past where you’re leaning on the counter to get a glass.

“I mean, damn, you didn’t even try today, huh?”He laughs.

“Why are you pickin’ a fight with me right now?” You raise your voice a little, exasperated and too hungover to deal with this.

“oh, uh, i dunno… i’m bored?” He shrugs again, looking over to you with a self satisfied smile. You groan in frustration, then sigh, forcing yourself to keep it together.

“…and you wonder why your wives left you,” you mumble with a roll your eyes, turning to quickly leave the kitchen. you don’t see his face, but judging from the sound of a crash and footsteps quickly following you into the hallway, you hit a nerve. oh, god, here we go…

“you fucking junkie bitch!” he yells after you as you stomp up the stairs.

“you’re proving my point right now!” you say over your shoulder.

“Like you have room to talk? Let’s bring up your love life, huh?!”

“oh my god shut up!” Angel yells through the door as you pass his room. “Every fuckin’ morning with you two!”

Adam ignores him, continuing to rant as he follows closely behind you, every degrading name he can think of spilling from his lips.

“…fucking whore cunt- whose not even fucking listening to me!” he says as you turn into your room. you turn, attempting to slam the door, but he sticks his foot in the gap and grabs the door, shoving it back open.

“what in the fuck is your problem today?!” you yell.

“it’s you, bitch!”

“oh my god- how do you care about anything this much? Seriously, it’s not that deep!”

you jump a little as he suddenly slaps the beer bottle out of your hands, the glass shattering loudly and the leftover beer soaking your socks. your jaw drops, outraged, and you can’t help the reflex to reach up and smack the side of his head.

“ow!” he yelps, and you raise your fists to hit him again, when-

“you- fucking bitch-!” he shouts. you cry out in surprise as he grabs your wrists and yanks you with surprising ease, shoving you roughly into the wall behind you.

theres a struggle, both grunting with the strain of pushing against each other as Adam wrestles to keep the upper hand. You go to knee him, but he moves quicker, slotting one of his legs between your own and pressing his body against yours to pin you completely against the wall.

then, something changes. he pauses, the close proximity seems to have finally registered in his brain. his eyes widen and you pause too, both panting, faces inches apart. his grip loosens, and a flicker of confusion crosses his features.

“wait, what’s-“

“shut up,” you snap suddenly. before you even realize what you’re doing, your hands are on his chest, and you’re shoving him towards your bed.

“take off your shirt,” you command as the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s falling backwards. he quickly does as you say, looking up at you with wide eyes as you straddle him and rip your own shirt off as well. he mumbles a nice when he sees you’re not wearing a bra. you reach to tug off the sweatpants you had on, and as soon as you can kick them away Adam’s hands are on your waist and flipping you over. He hurriedly rips off the rest of his clothes before he’s back on you, leaning down to eagerly press kisses down your neck. you have to tilt your head to make room for the horns now permanently attached to his head, and you think of the irony of this situation.

the sound of fabric ripping followed immediately by two of his fingers finding your clit makes you gasp. you bite back a whimper as he begins to rub rough and sloppy circles on your clit. the pleasure doesn’t last long before he’s pulling his hand back, only to shove a finger inside your cunt quickly, and you gasp again. being so unprepared, the stretch burns a bit. fuck, has he always had such big hands? he’s gentle at first, as he works the single finger in and out of you, and once the pain subsides, he quickly adds a second one.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the curse that slips past your lips, and before long you’re rocking your hips against his hand. his movements are rushed and sloppy, impatient as he stretches you out. he chuckles dryly, and you shoot him a glare.

once again, before long, he’s pulling away, and grabbing you by the shoulders to make you sit up with him. you whine involuntarily at the loss of contact, and the cocky bastard laughs again.

“So impatient, babe,” He grins.

“Shut up,” You say again, pushing him so that he’s sitting up against the bed frame. You crawl over to him, and straddle his lap. His hands find your ass, groping it roughly while you grab the base of his cock and align the tip with your entrance.

You both gasp in unison when you swiftly lower yourself to take his full length. A strangled moan escapes from your lips and you let your head fall forward to rest on his shoulder. Eyes squeezed shut, you wait so you can adjust to his size. Seriously, how had you never noticed how big he was before now? Prematurely, Adam angles his hips and suddenly thrusts up into you, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Oh you like that, bitch? Huh?” He says teasingly, running his hands up and down your back before moving his hips again.

“You have seriously got to learn to be quiet,” You retort through gritted teeth, reaching up to pull his hair from the roots. He lets out a groan, followed by a more pathetic whine as you begin to move on his length.

It must be all the pent up emotion, because you’re very quickly unable to speak beyond a few curses and wanton moans. Adam however, can’t seem to stop talking. Mumbling about how good you feel- for a whore, how he didn’t think you’d be so tight, how you’re so fucking sexy he wishes he’d done this sooner.

“Ugh, Adam- shut up!” You groan as you move desperately. He whines as you pull his hair again for emphasis, biting his lip as you feel his hips snap up into yours.

“Oh, god-“ You’re squealing, back arching as you can feel your whole body tense. You’re on top, but as you grow more limp, he’s holding you upright as he roughly fucks into you. “I’m close!” You warn, and it comes out a strangled sob.

You’re so, so close. Euphoria clouds your brain, and collapse onto him as he continues to hold you up to thrust into you.

You fall backwards, and Adam follows, caging you underneath him as he chases his own release now.

“oh- fuck- don’t stop!” You’re practically screaming as your orgasm crashes over you, and you wrap your arms around and claw at Adam desperately, fingernails leaving marks on his fleshy back. You only faintly register the breathless laugh he lets out at your state as he now pounds into you.

He slams into you with an intensity that forces the air out of your lungs, and even Adam can’t form thoughts or speak anymore.

“Oh, fu-uuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” He can’t believe the noises that are coming from him, but he also can’t find it in himself to care when you feel this good. You’re so sensitive, and still tight from your previous climax, and he can feel your pulse in the walls of your cunt as you clench around him.

Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you moan his name again, reaching up to pull at his hair, horns, wings, anything, as tears begin to prick at your eyes. Hearing you moan his name, seeing the look on your face, knowing he’s the one doing this to you is what he needed to send him over the edge.

“o-oh my god-“ he groans, hips stuttering as he presses his body as close to yours as possible, spilling his cum deeply inside of you with an actual moan.

He stays still for a moment, both of your breathing labored, sweat making your hair stick to your foreheads and necks, but you stay holding eachother. While both your brains are still fuzzy, thoughts muddled from the aftershocks, he takes a hand up and wipes your hair away from your face, and the tears from your eyes.

Eventually, he sits up and pulls out of you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Neither of you say anything, too fucked out to think of the repercussions from your actions.

[milaisreading]

🌱🩷: this is dramatic for absolutely no reason. Icb😭 pt2

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Reader is Isagi's older sister here. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

"I hope you go to hell." (Y/n) sent Oliver a side-glare, as the boy chuckled and moved closer to her as they walked down the street.

"Come on, (Y/n). You know you missed our dates~"

"Oh yes... I completely missed all the times you would ignore me to flirt with a waitress." The older Isagi glared at the boy, moving further away from him.

"If you come near me, even a little, I will scream."

Oliver's smirk turned into a frown and he sighed, moving away a little as well. There was a short silence as the duo walked down the street, with Oliver sending her looks from time to time.

"Why... why did you want to meet me? Wasn't talking at the bowling alley a few days ago enough?" (Y/n) finally spoke up, earning nervous look from Oliver. Which was a first from him.

"No... I missed talking to ya, and the bowling alley conversation definitely wasn't enough. Especially with your brother glaring at me the whole time."

"I support him in that. To be honest, you deserved way worse."

Oliver sighed at her answer, already expecting no sympathy from her.

"I am sorry... I really am sorry for leaving you like that-"

"You broke up with me via a text message... on the day of our anniversary. No amount of 'I am sorry' will make me forgive or forget that."

The boy flinched at that as (Y/n) glared at him, then turned to look at the road ahead of them. The silence between them was awkward, but (Y/n) liked it. It gave her a chance to de-stress a little.

'Asshole!' She sent a glance towards Oliver, inspecting his face for a moment.

'But he is a handsome one... stupid! Why do you think like that over someone who clearly doesn't care for you...' She scolded herself.

Meanwhile, Oliver was lost in his own thoughts.

'Shit... I really messed it up back then... I wonder if I can make it better in anyway, show her that I really regret it.' Oliver sighed as they approached a restaurant.

"Let's go and have dinner here. It's on me-"

"I can pay for my own food." (Y/n) cut him off, but agreed to have dinner there.

"Of course you can. But, let me cover it tonight-"

"We aren't on a date, Aiku." She reminded him as they walked into the restaurant.

"I am sure you have a girl or two on who you can spend your money on instead." As much as it hurt her to say that, (Y/n) couldn't not say it. The scene at the karaoke bar still hurt her.

'I don't expect him to love or care for me after everything... but to think that I still didn't move on properly and he just...'

Oliver just sighed and kept quiet, knowing right now wasn't the best time to argue about it.

'I screwd up royally... just what could make her see I still care?'

After an awkward dinner and some dry conversations after, they were returning home. (Y/n) was glad that the night was coming to an end.

'I just want to take a bath and forget all of this had happened.'

"Hey... can we talk for a moment?" Oliver suddenly spoke up, grabbing (Y/n)'s wrist to stop her from walking.

"What now?" She asked in a bored manner, removing her first from his hold.

"I... I know you hate me, and I deserve it. I was an ass towards you at the end of the relationship, but..." Oliver stopped, trying to gather his own thoughts as (Y/n) just stared at him with a curious expression.

"But?"

"I... I really do like you. And as short as our relationship was, I really miss it."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened at that, and she just kept staring at Oliver. She couldn't bring herself to say anything at the moment. I mean... what could she say?

"Back then, I wasn't in a good headspace and was going nowhere with my own skills. I didn't want to burden you with all of it... you deserved better. Not a guy who can barely keep himself in line. I realized my mistake, and I wish we could return back to how it was."

(Y/n) felt her eyes sting a little as her hands twitched a little at his words.

"I will do whatever it takes, and wait for however long you want me to, just for us to be together again-"

A loud slap echoed through the street and Oliver flinched and grabbed his reddened cheek.

"(Y/n)..."

"And.... and you couldn't bring yourself to talk to me?" She let out a few sobs.

'She is crying?' Oliver blinked.

"I... you are the worst! Do you know how painful it was when I read that message?! All because... all because you couldn't man up to say how you felt... I..." She buried her face into her palms and Oliver tried to move closer to her.

"Hey... I'm sorry. I don't like seeing you cry-"

"Forget it. I don't want to talk to you anymore." (Y/n) moved away from Oliver and turned around to run away.

"I don't want to look or talk to you... whatever you wanted to say, save it! I just hope the next girl you date... you will love her enough to talk things out."

Before Oliver could say anything or grab her hand, (Y/n) ran off. Her face still buried in her palms.

Oliver felt something break in him as he watched her run off from him. It hurt more than when he broke up with her.

"But I love you-"

"Oliver Aiku! The hell did you do to my sister?!"

The boy shook his head and turned to look at the younger Isagi in surprise. The boy staring at the captain with resentment and rage.

"Isagi... what are you doing here?"

"The better question is what did you do to my sister? Why is she crying, you hag?!" Isagi's glare got more intense as he approached the dumbfounded and heartbroken boy.

'I am such an idiot... I hate him and love him at the same time. Why am I doing this to myself?' (Y/n) thought while walking down the street and trying to wipe her tears away.

'I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.' She thought back at the purple/green-eyed boy.

"And yet I still can't-"

She cut herself off as another body collided into hers, causing the stranger to fall down and her to stumble to the side.

"Ha?!" (Y/n) let out a surprised gasp and removed her hands from her face.

"Can't you watch where you are going, idiot?"

The girl's eyes widened in surprise as teal eyes stared back up at her.

'Itoshi... Sae?! He is still in Japan?!' (Y/n) thought in surprise while looking at the annoyed boy.

[butmakeitgayblog]

I think your understanding of canon Clexa and their characterization/dynamics is really spot on, which makes me really excited to read your canon story. The ask about canon Clarke being Loud made me wonder what your take would be on how their first time went? It’s obviously a scene that’s been written in fanfic a ton but since you seem to be against the typical “heda got fucked into a nap” narrative I’d love to know what the version of events is in your head?

Oh no, I do believe Lexa got fucked into a nap 😂

I just don't believe that was all that happened, nor that it happened the way a lot of people think 👀

Sorry in advance for the rant.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I don't agree with some people's fandom interpretation of Lexa being this ultimately hesitant/demure or reserved person. At least not when it comes to how she expresses herself romantically. Now, I'm not shitting on the people who do see her like that and have written her like that for canon by any means because it's certainly understandable given the way she carries herself overall. I do get it.

But to me at least, Lexa is not a reserved person. Not when she's interested in someone. Not romantically, and certainly not physically.

From the very second she decided she was going to go for what she wanted with Clarke - when she decided to be honest and active about her feelings - what did she do? How did she behave?

Well. She took the reins and kissed Clarke exactly how she'd been wanting to kiss her for days

She took command and pushed into the feel of it and chased Clarke's lips to stretch the moment as long as she could

Yes she backed off when Clarke pulled away and said not yet, but that doesn't negate the fact that she very much did exactly what she wanted to do. That doesn't negate the fact that Lexa slipped her hand through Clarke's hair and tugged her in by the neck and kissed the living shit out of her simply because she wanted to.

Now here's where things get jumbled up imo and where people kind of... lose sight of Lexa for who she is. Because after this comes the mountain and then the subsequent betrayal, and after that Lexa is left hanging in this weird love/hate limbo (Clarke's, not hers. Obviously.) Was Lexa reserved during that time? Yes. Because she was trying to be respectful. She assumed Clarked hated her and would probably never forgive her. She felt she'd already done enough damage to ruin any hope for a relationship between them, so all that was left was to be respectful and love Clarke from afar. (That's glossing over many instances of Lexa still, STILL, showing her affections outright i.e. touching her when Emerson charged at her, the vow, showing up to Clarke's room dressed like a harlot a relaxed woman who just happened to like showing a whole lotta leg. You get it)

Which brings us to the afternoon Clarke was going to leave, and my God the girl was devastated. She was holding it together because that's what Lexa's does. Because Lexa was used to losing everyone she ever cared about. That's just how her life went. But also she was trying her best to keep it all together for Clarke's sake. To not make the decision of going back to Arkadia any harder for her than she knew it already was.

But even then, even in her facade of strength for both of their sake, Lexa still gave in and showed Clarke the crack in her armor. Lexa was methodical in everything shw did, and yet still she let slip, "That's why I...". Because she knew. She knew Clarke would understand what she was saying even when she wasn't ready to actually hear it. She let it "slip" because if that was going to be the last time they were together, she needed to at least know that she'd put it out there. That Clarke could carry that with her forever, if she chose to.

And then Clarke fucking kissed her.

Not once, but twice. Lexa gave her a chance to pull and think it over because of how shaky everything still was, but then Clarke leaned in and kissed her again.

And Lexa didn't hesitate again for one goddamn second after that.

Instead she kissed Clarke deeper than she'd kissed her before. Ran nervous hands all over her and caressed at her wherever she could.

She held Clarke close and actually tasted her with all the hunger she'd been pushing down for weeks (whew, thank you Alycia😮‍💨🫦).

She quite literally took Clarke's hands and tugged her to her bed. Like??? Heda really said through body language "oh we are going to fuck" (but... sweeter)

Yes she was patient and gave Clarke a chance to say no because, again, she was still very aware of how tenuous this seeming forgiveness probably was in Clarke's eyes. But that doesn't change the fact that she made it clear what she wanted. She put her affection and her yearning - all of her vulnerability right out there for Clarke to take or leave, and she did it in way that there was no mistaking exactly what she was asking for.

But Clarke didn't pull away, and what did Lexa do?

She grabbed her again. She pushed their intimacy forward again. She tugged Clarke down to the bed and not only gave herself to Clarke, but also took everything she had wanted.

So you see, Lexa was never passive in her expressions of attraction toward Clarke. She was never truly hesitant when it came to physically going for what she wanted when it came to wanting to be intimate with her. She kissed Clarke and she touched Clarke and she reached out for her time and again without shame, only stopping herself when Clarke put a stop to things because Lexa would never take something Clarke didn't openly give.

Which makes me believe Lexa would've been even less reserved when she was finally, finally, allowed to do all the things she'd yearned for. Yes she'd given Clarke the control to begin with because they both needed that kind of reassurance in their intimacy, but afterward? When it was Lexa's turn to show Clarke exactly how much she wanted her?

I believe Lexa would've been exactly who she always was when it came to being in love: giving and expressive, unabashed in her naked want. I think she would've kissed Clarke until their mouths ached and tasted every drop Clarke had to give. I think she would've begged Clarke to moan for her just so she could have those memories of making her lose control to keep with her forever. I think she would've fucked Clarke like it was their first and last time all rolled into one, because as far Lexa knew, that's exactly what it was. I think she would've teased her just to see Clarke smile and then teased her just to hear her whine. I think she would've done everything to stretch the afternoon out even while knowing they were racing against the clock. And I don't think she would've felt hesitant about any of it. Not about giving herself entirely to Clarke, both dominantly and submissively.

Cuz yeah Miss Lexa was a very happy camper after round one

But she sure as hell still wasn't shy about having her own turn

[night-market-if]

Spoiler Ask

So I'm going to address it all here under the cut because I've gotten a few asks in that are pretty similar and I'm sure I'm going to get more. So I thought instead of answering the same thing over and over, I'd just do a response below. Warning, spoilers for the end of book 1.

Full disclosure. I am sick. We are going through a lot of family things at the moment. My patience is probably thin.

For everyone that says MC is already too forgiving of Milo. Milo has not even come into the story yet. You've only observed memories of him. If you feel like you need an inner dialogue to tell you how angry you are over this "betrayal" or "death", I don't know what to say here. Because MC is literally just observing things at the moment. Any options that have been put forth to comment on Milo and what has happened, have been more to lay ground work and to also give a scope of the type of emotions that will be offered in the game. But literally, Milo has not even shown up yet into the story in a real capacity. So please stop sending me asks about how you are upset that MC has "forgiven" him because there has literally been no real interaction between Milo and the MC.

As for this betrayal and death thing. I am going to state this now for those who aren't going to like where my story is going so you don't need to read if you don't want to. As the Night Market, you knew you were going to die. You gladly came down and wanted to experience death. You looked at what Milo (a non magic user) was doing, and said "hey, this would be a cool experience" and then you came down here. So, yes, you are going to feel the full range of emotions that come with it. But you are also going to need to take some personal accountability for your actions. That is what is going to be explored in this book. An entity that didn't realize what emotion actually meant, came down thinking it wasn't going to be a big deal to die, and it turned out it was a big deal. A big fucking deal, in fact and that by doing so, they actually hurt people they loved. So, don't forgive Milo. I'm not forcing anyone to. But, I will not be writing an MC that puts all the blame on him. Because guess what? The Night Market would have died if he didn't do what he did. So, everyone also saying that he killed the MC? No, he literally saved the MC and billions of people. And I don't care what way you spin it? One person is never worth a billion souls. And with the MC being someone that literally cut themselves open over and over again to save most of the people living within the world, I would think they would probably not be too keen on Milo sacrificing them so they could die together in some bullshit Romeo and Juliet act.

Now, I am all for exploring how an MC comes to terms with the feeling of betrayal along with the feeling of needing to take responsibility. I am all for exploring an MC that goes "holy shit this emotion thing is way bigger than I thought and I'm angry and confused". I'm there for it. I'm excited to write it. But, I will not be writing a willfully ignorant MC that doesn't take into account that they did this to themselves as well. And yes, if you choose to not acknowledge it in game, others are going to acknowledge it for you. If you want to not read because you can't become a villain, rock back and forth in a corner and weep, or violently get mad at someone who saved the world? That's cool. I'm not offended by someone not reading it. Anyone coming into my ask box and saying "I just am not going to read now because you aren't doing xyz" I wish you a good night and hope you find something else for you because there are thousands of stories out there.

I am not interested. Nor will I ever be interested. In writing a story where I add to the plague of ignorance that is this world. Aren't we kind of all struggling enough with that in our own lives? MC is a being of compassion. They will always be a being of compassion. That is going to shift and change based on circumstances and there are going to be moments where that compassion can fall into question. When it comes to Milo, it is going to be a messy bit of confusing emotions because there is so much more than just the black and white strokes of "OMG he killed me" that seemed to be the rhetoric on here. Now, you don't want his character around? Alright. Other than when you have to see him for Gatekeeper purposes, you probably won't.

To all of you guys complaining or sending me ask after ask stating how you don't like what I am doing. I am going to tell you this and it will not ever change. If you don't like reading this, then don't read. I am not here to write a story for you specifically. You don't like the direction of a work and can't ever broaden your scope of fiction to give it a shot? Then please don't. But to have this kind of messages coming through when literally we are a chapter in? Seriously. The instant gratification is bullshit. I'm going to suspect this is coming from the younger half of my audience who is way too accustomed to a confirmation bias internet algorithm and who has had a very small scope of real life. This is of course not all of the younger crowd but it's starting to seem like a pretty good amount.

I love having conversations with everyone. My discord is always open but most of you anons hide because you are far too scared to come at me with your user name or engage in a conversation feed where more than just me can answer. I mean, you guys send me asks, citing others user names, to call them out through me. It's laughable at this point.

I love having discourse with all of you but I'm not going to keep answering the same thing over and over again and justifying my work when it doesn't need to be justified. This is a small little bit of fiction in a vast sea.

If I sound pissed, it's because I am at this point. And I'm sure I'll get more asks in that are stating they are jumping ship or that they are disappointed in me or what not. I'll delete them and move on with my evening.

To all of you who are here for the ride and just want to experience what I'm writing? Thank you. Fiction is just meant to be a form of entertainment. I am not writing anything profound. To anyone that is looking for something more, move on. I'll see everyone who wants to get mad or saying I'm too harsh, in my inbox, I am sure. Thank god you can block anons.

[cambion-companion]

(I'm sorry for bothering, I read you were open to prompts... and I'm dying, since I found out about this, for Raph finding out a very, very stupid Tav who screwed up against Harleep. Like. A Tav who is so random she-or he- found her way into the HoH completely randomly, or thought it would be a good idea to surprise him there. Really anything, as you wish, if you can, if it inspire you, if it amusé you ^^ have a great day !)

Not a bother at all, my dear! I am indeed open for Raphael prompts, always ;)

Hickory dickory dock. The mouse ran up the clock. The clock struck one, The mouse ran down, Hickory dickory dock.

"Oh shit. Oh shit." A chill ran up Tav's spine as they sensed a sharp atmospheric shift inside the House of Hope. The air thickened and grew laden with the scent of sulfur and musk. Raphael stepped through a whirling portal of flame, his human face set grimly in an expression of anger.

"I am disappointed to see you here, pet."

"Raphael, it's not-"

"An errant mouse wreaking inane havoc in my house."

"Raphael I promise I didn't-"

"Silence." His voice was a dangerous purr, holding the promise of tortures unimagined. "You're being here is in direct defiance of clause three section b of our contract."

Tav had never felt his presence carry such fury before. They stammered for a moment, desperate to avoid conflict with the cambion. "Raphael..." Tav tried once more, tongue heavy around their words. "It was an accident! The diabolist in Baldur's Gate sent me here."

Raphael, still frowning sharply, allowed Tav to speak. Incendiary sparks of ash still floated around his form, but he seemed to calm somewhat as they tried explaining their mistake.

"The diabolist and I got into an altercation. She serves Mammon...pretty sure I remember that right." Tav continued. "I didn't know she was going to banish me here."

Raphael tilted his head, listening to the desperate squeaks of his favorite mortal. When Tav began rambling about the state they had found his house in when they'd arrived, he held up a quelling hand. "Enough. I believe your being here was not by your own volition however..." His voice lowered again. "...you brought with you the wretched chaos of your own world into my home."

Tav hesitated, tucking hair behind their ear nervously. "Not to be...blunt, Raph. But your house was kind of, um, disorderly when I got here." They pointed down the hallway in the direction of the dining room. "Your dinner table? An utter mess."

Raphael made a long low noise in the back of his throat, Tav ceased speaking at once under his piercing gaze. After a long moment he spoke again.

"You have not done lasting damage, nor pilfered any of my treasures. I know everything that happens in my house, little mouse. Every movement, every whisper does not go unmarked." His cunning eyes now swept the foyer carefully, lingering on each soul column. "After all, when the cat is away the mice will play." In one stride he took Tav's chin between his finger and thumb and tilted their head side to side. "Someone gifted you quite the disguise, sweetling." He pulled, causing Tav to stumble a couple small steps toward him till their chests brushed. "Did it give you a morsel of hope perhaps?"

Tav winced guiltily, gasping slightly as Raphael's fingers tightened in response, his aura darkening again.

"I have been so generous with you, Tav. Over and again forgiving your wayward insolence." Raphael's nose almost brushed against Tav's as he lent down. "Am I to believe you agreed to help my little Hope escape her shackles?"

Tav bent away slightly, the color draining from their face. "Only so I could obtain the disguise, Raphael. I never intended to help her."

"You lied?" Raphael sounded almost amused now. "And Hope believed you? What a desperate little Nightingale. Her cage is well-appointed. You were wise not to meddle." Raphael almost sighed as he released Tav with a slight push. "I do love the delicious sound of a soul being stripped bare and broken. However, such will not yet be your fate if you agree to assist me."

"In more than retrieving the Crown for you?" Tav asked, a knot forming in their stomach.

"Oh yes." Raphael placed a careful hand on his hip as he gesticulated with the other. "Restoring precious order. First accompany me to the soul cages, to converse with our Hope. Second, I will escort you to your Material Plane and you will deal with the diabolist of Mammon so that none will trespass in such a way again."

Tav frowned slightly, but nodded, they had little choice. "Thought you'd be more happy to see me." They frowned slightly.

"Don't pout, pet, it's unbecoming." Raphael seemed much more his charming self now, amused at Tav's muttered reproach. "After your journey is complete and the Crown is mine, you will be welcome in my house at any time." His smile twisted and his eyebrows arched. "You have my word."

[asimplearchivist]

‘ 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓶𝔂 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓮 . ’

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 |��SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ steven, unbeknownst to him, meets the love of his life at one of its lowest points. pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader word count ☾ 15.7k a/n ☽ [gif credit] ⤏ aka my personal love letter to one steven grant (and myself, because I want to be loved like I love just once). ⤏ i am going to be completely honest on this one, guys: this is a borderline self-insert fic that is 100% self-indulgent on my part bc i have felt like shit the last two months and want to treat myself. ⤏ i kept it as a reader-insert because a) some people (including myself) enjoy experiencing different ‘pov’s of reader-inserts, per se; b) it’s easier to be kinder to and romanticize myself when it’s ‘not me’; and c) i feel that it’s still vague/inclusive enough to be counted as a general reader-insert versus labeling it strictly as a self-insert/original character. i really only describe personality traits and the reader being petite, really (bc nothing comforts my 5’0” ass more than knowing i would actually be able to kiss the boys without craning my neck all the way back tbh). i use a few southern colloquialisms, too, just fyi. :) ⤏ typical moon knight fanfic disclaimer: I don’t claim to know very much about did beyond what I’ve gleaned from both the show, the various meta posts I’ve read on tumblr, and from other fanfics themselves, so please forgive and correct me on any glaring discrepancies/issues I may have presented here (or link me any posts that discuss more accurate representations of did, perhaps—that’d be greatly appreciated). some of the terminology/technicalities escape me. I tried my best to get their voices and characterizations just right, and I sincerely hope I succeeded bc they’re very special to me. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER ☽

The first time Steven met you, it was strictly by happenstance.

He had always considered himself a man with many friends. Although his routine was relatively simple compared to other Londoners who thrived in social settings and spent all of their free time anywhere but home to mingle and chase tail, he had familiar faces he saw frequently. He committed their names to memory when they’d give them off-handedly, he made a point to speak to them in passing even if he or they were otherwise occupied, and he kept a mental list composed of all the details he was able to glean strictly from observation when they didn’t readily volunteer the information.

Perhaps it was a little silly. All lot of them had trouble remembering him, sure, but he couldn’t hold it against them—tons of people had trouble keeping track of faces and people. Sure, JB never quite got his name right even after Steven had worked at the museum for a couple of months by now, but he was a busy man monitoring the security cameras all day long and stayed distracted (with his infatuation with otters, no less—as endearing of a trait as any for someone with a secret soft side). Donna stayed in a tizzy, always worked up over something beyond her control (Steven couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be dealing with the higher-ups trying to meet goals and attempting to exceed them). He didn’t really dislike them for it, even if it had grown rather grating as of late. (Even if it would only take them both a moment to look at his conveniently given and placed nametag.)

Crowley didn’t talk much, all part of the gig, so Steven didn’t hold their one-sided conversations against him, either. The gentleman with the broom cart (whose name Steven never had managed to catch, as gruff as he was) seemed only to ever respond with grunts. The security guards, the tour guides, the usual suspects on the morning and night bus rides…Steven interacted with them all, and they had enough good graces to acknowledge it most of the time.

Over time, however, as his dreams (or perhaps more aptly named nightmares) grew more vivid and more bizarre, as he seemed to lose track of time more and more (how exactly does one manage to miss an entire weekend when one isn’t a blackout drunk?), and as Steven’s anxiety led him into taking more and more precautions to make sure his self-diagnosed sleepwalking disorder didn’t strand him on the other side of London (again), it became more readily apparent that those people with whom he took such care to converse did not seem particularly inclined to return the favor. Sure, he’d accidentally nodded off a few times leaning on the other passengers in the morning bus, ran a little late at times getting to the museum (much to Donna’s ever-increasing ire), and maybe got a little carried away with his nattering when he got invested in something he was excited to share information about, but…would it really kill someone just to respond long enough to reassure him that he wasn’t virtually invisible?

It was one such morning after he overslept, convinced he was late, and worked himself into a right and proper state trying to get to the museum on time that he realized that it was, in fact, Sunday, not Saturday. Much to his bewilderment but proven by his phone, the museum stood barren and closed, doors locked and lights off. He stood at the entrance staring at his dumbfounded expression in the glass for a good five minutes, thoughts racing as he tried to recall anything about the previous day. There was no way he slept an entire day, right? He hadn’t been staying up too late trying to manage his disorder, even if he had been running a little tired lately.

His distress was punctuated by a fat, chilly droplet landing right on his nose. The early spring weather was unseasonably cold this year, leading to an abnormally wet season (as if rain could ever be abnormal in London, but the meteorologists remained convinced), and within seconds of Steven turning and trotting down the steps the skies parted and released their torrential downpour as if just to spite him specifically. Everyone else in the immediate vicinity, if they weren’t holed up in their cars or the myriad establishments bordering the museum district, already had their umbrellas up to shield themselves from the frigid onslaught, ambling along and circumnavigating the puddles lingering from the storm the night before..

Steven shrank into his coat, tugging the collar up and over his head as best he could as he crossed the street and aimed for the first building he saw with its neon, ivory OPEN sign glowing against the gloom—on the corner directly across from the museum entrance. The door was heavy, the handle cold enough he was surprised his palm didn’t stick to it, but he managed to pry it open and tumble inside.

A few people glanced up from their tables to give him a range of skeptical to humored looks before going about their business. Steven hedged to the side of the door in case someone else came in, dripping onto the old hardwood with no small amount of regret.

It was a coffee shop. Comfortingly warm against his numb face, he basked in the scents of espresso and sweets permeating the place. His attention was caught by the bookshelves on the wall to his right, and he was entranced—all until a barista slipped out from the kitchen and addressed him with a croon. “Oh, goodness, look like the weather caught you!”

Steven almost accidentally ignored you thinking that you were talking to someone else (for so rarely did someone speak to him in a tone that wasn’t irritated or dismissive). After his cursory glance in your direction, he did a double-take, realizing you were looking right at him.

“Yeah, I—looked at the forecast wrong, methinks!” he responded sheepishly (and he had—he’d been expecting Saturday’s overcast mist, not Sunday’s shower). “I’m makin’ a right mess, aren’t I? I should probably go before I warp the stain—”

“No! No, just wait a second.” You raised a placating palm before dipping below sight behind the counter. You emerged and rounded the corner next to the display case holding a towel, walking right up to him and offering it to him with a sympathetic smile. “I can’t count the number of times I thought I could beat Mother Nature,” you joked. “It sucks that it’s been so cold on top of it. I’m surprised I haven’t gotten sick.”

Steven accepted it graciously, muttering his earnest thanks as he went about mopping up his sopping curls. Once he’d wiped all the rain he could off of him, he handed it back to you. “Hope I don’t get one, neither,” he responded. “It just wouldn’t do to catch cold in the middle of all this, would it? No.”

You chuckled a bit, eyes glittering with mirth. “Maybe it’ll help if I get you something hot to drink?”

Steven glanced at the menu hanging on the wall behind the counter, eyes rounding a little at the prices. He’d overspent on books again after payday, so he was having to be a bit more frugal this week than usual. “Oh, no, don’t go to the trouble, I’ll just call a cab and get a ride home before it gets too bad.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assured him, wringing the towel between your hands. You hesitated only a heartbeat before you leaned in a little closer, smile turning a bit bashful. “I’ll make it on the house, how’s that sound?”

Steven normally considered himself one to give where charity was concerned, but he had to admit that the sound of something warm on his urgently empty stomach was divine at the moment. He cleared his throat, glancing towards the other customers still wrapped up in their own little worlds. “No, I couldn’t—wouldn’t want anyone jealous that they’re not gettin’ the special treatment, you know.”

“It can be our little secret,” you offered quietly, winking conspiratorially at him.

He blinked, heat creeping up into his face. “Oh, well. If you insist, then…just this once?”

“All right.” Your smile lit up your entire face, and you headed back behind the counter to deposit the towel in an unseen hamper.

Steven followed, training his eyes on the menu—the standard fare was reasonable, with alternative options for dietary restrictions. A lot of the custom concoctions did seem lovely, and he was a tad surprised to discover that they served breakfast and lunch, also—with vegan options, most notably. “Wow, I never even knew this place existed. I must’ve been walkin’ right by it this whole time.”

“Do you work at the museum?” you inquired, folding your arms over the counter and propping your chin up in your palm.

“I do, actually,” he beamed, though it was dashed a tad with his next confession. “I want to be a tour guide one day—you know, I’ve been studyin’ up for it and all—but they’ve got me in the gift shop. For now! They said they’d move me up with a new position becomes available.” They said that they would consider him for the role, but Steven clung to his hope that they’d soon realize how bloody good he’d be at it, as hard as he’d been working for it for so long.

“You always have to start somewhere,” you replied warmly. You gestured to the shop around you. “This is just to hold me over ‘til I’m finished up.”

“Are you a transfer student?” Steven asked.

Your brow rose slightly, but your smile didn’t waver. “How observant. Most people ask me how I got lost on this side of the pond.”

“It isn’t often I see Americans anywhere but in the more touristy spots,” he agreed, “but the university is quite prestigious. You must be very academically successful if you landed a transfer scholarship like that.”

“It took a lot of work,” you admitted, “but it’s been worth it. I never thought I’d do anything like this, and I would’ve laughed at you a couple of years ago if you’d told me I’d move this far away from home. I’ve never really been the traveling type, but I’m so grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to do so.”

“What are you studyin’?” Steven inquired. An English major, perhaps—you struck him as the literary type with your articulation, despite your soft, southern drawl.

“Oh.” Your face darkened and you fiddled with the hem of your sweatshirt—dark gray, warm flannel, with a silver astronomical design embroidered into the front. “Well. I went to a university back home and got a degree in writing—” Nailed it! “—but I was notified at graduation that I qualified for this so I thought why not? It’s a bit self-indulgent, really, as I’ve always been a history nut, but I’m, um…” You reached up and scratched the nape of your neck, glancing away as though embarrassed. “...focusing on Egyptology?”

Steven’s brows shot halfway up his forehead. “No kiddin’!”

“Nope,” you confessed, a bit sheepish. “I picked up a book with pictures of King Tutankhamun’s treasures when I was three and I’ve been in love with it since. Maybe it’s a little niche, but it makes me happy—I’m taking other history classes, too, so I’ll end up with an Ancient History major with a minor in Egyptology—that’s just my main focus since I always wanted to be an Egyptologist when I was little. I don’t know that I could ever stand the heat, though, so I’m happy with writing in the comfort of my own home.”

“No, that’s great!” he raved, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m a bit of a history buff meself! The museum has a huge Egyptology exhibit coming up next month, so I’ve been brushin’ up on it all. You know, in case I get to audition.”

“Oh, yeah?” you tried, emerging from your shell just a bit. “Do you have a favorite period?”

“New Kingdom, definitely,” he said immediately. His heart was thrumming, and he was trying (in vain) to contain at least the majority of his enthusiasm. “There’s just so much material to go through. All the texts recovered from Deir el-Medina fascinate me to no end!”

“Yeah, Paneb was a right bastard,” you joked. “He had the whole town stirred up all the time. But we’re not going to talk about Ea-Nasir.”

“Oh, yeah—imagine keepin’ all your hate mail for posterity,” he returned, strumming his fingers against the inside of his sleeves. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m an Old Kingdom gal,” you said with a chuckle. “Pepi II’s letter about the pygmy won me over. Not to mention all the drama with Teti’s assassination. The workmen’s village at Giza? Oh, how could I pick one thing?”

Finally! Finally, it felt like Steven was talking to someone that spoke his language!

“It’s really hard to, isn’t it?” His stomach was starting to grumble. He cleared his throat, tamping down his anticipation just enough to concentrate on the matter at hand. He glanced up at the menu again, a little remiss with some of the unfamiliar choices—most of those displayed were coffee, but he’d been trying to curb himself off of it in favor of cutting out caffeine altogether for a better sleep schedule. “I, um…sorry, got a little sidetracked there. What would you recommend that’s decaf?”

“Oh, I love chai,” you told him. “Most of the teas we carry are decaf, though we do have decaf coffee, too. We’ve got all the usuals like chamomile, mint, Earl Grey…” You tilted your head slightly. “I’ve been avoiding caffeine since I was a teenager—it makes me antsy.”

“How do you normally take your chai?” he queried, curious.

“As an iced latte,” you said. “Cold foam, cinnamon, whole milk. I like it warm, too, especially this time of year, but there’s something about it iced that I can’t seem to part from—maybe that’s the southern upbringing in me.” You gestured to the equipment behind you. “Would you like to try it?”

“Yeah, sure! But with oat milk, please?”

“You’ve got it, darlin’,” you beamed, and set to work immediately. “I usually drink a small since it’s a bit sweet, that okay?”

“Certainly.”

Never would Steven have thought that he’d find such a deeply kindred soul a stone’s throw away from his workplace he’d never even noticed before today. He had to confess that he was charmed by you almost instantly. It had been a while since he’d met someone so engaging and open—not to mention generous and drop-dead gorgeous to boot! Ironic, really, that the foreigner was treating him more kindly than his native kinsmen. What did the Americans say about southern hospitality?

“Thank you so much,” he said when you returned with the cup and set it in front of him. “It looks great!”

“Go ahead and try it,” you suggested, “and if you don’t like it, I’ll replace it for you with something else.”

Steven had absolutely no intention of telling you to your face that he disliked your favorite beverage, even if he did decide it wasn’t to his taste—much less make you go out of your way to make him another free drink. But as he sipped the heady, sweet mixture the spices melted over his tongue. Despite being served cold, the flavors warmed his mouth and settled cozily into his belly.

“Oh,” he suspired, licking the foam from his lips, “that’s lovely. You’ve won a convert.”

Your smile was nearly blinding with delight. “I’m glad! It’s not for everyone, certainly, but those who do like it always seem to love it. No in between, I guess.”

Steven resisted the urge to suck the entire thing down, folding it between his hands instead as he committed more details of your appearance to memory. Your black apron was a bit big for your frame, dwarfing you a bit, but your sweatshirt did, too—your jeans were well-fitted but not snug. You were wearing very little makeup, just a touch around the eyes, but it emphasized your lashes like a fawn’s. While comfortable, if a bit plain, your ensemble made you seem like the epitome of homey.

“How long have you lived in London?” he asked after another delightful sip.

“Since the start of spring semester,” you said. “It was a big adjustment to show up at the tail end of winter, but I think I’ve gotten the hang of it now for the most part. I still get lost occasionally, but that’s why Google Maps was invented. I’d be up a creek without a paddle without it.” You leaned against the counter again, bracing yourself on the stained surface and gazing up at him as if there existed no other person in the world. “I live right next to the campus, but I work here to get away even though my scholarships carry most of my bills and fees. Ironic, though, ‘cause I don’t exactly consider myself a socialite.”

“You’ve fooled me,” he said with a chuckle. “Bit odd bein’ an ambivert, yeah?”

“I really only talk a lot when I get excited or when I’m with people I’m comfortable being around,” you confessed shyly. “I’ve been told I talk too much about stuff nobody really cares about, so I try not to bother anyone.”

“Now who on earth would have gone and told you that?” he pressed, heart aching all the while. How many times had he been told the very same thing, sometimes with less polite wording?

“Oh, not exactly like that,” you rectified in a hurry, “it’s just…you can tell, you know? When someone isn’t really paying attention to anything you’re saying. I usually get interrupted anyway, so sometimes I find it easier just to keep quiet.” Your skin darkened again, and cleared your throat as you dipped your face to conceal it with a hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I went into all that. See? Rambling too much—words got away from me.”

It was like looking into a mirror—so much so that Steven almost felt a bit of deja-vu.

“No, don’t be sorry,” he said softly. “I understand completely—really, I do. Better than you might think.”

You raised your gaze back up to him, and he understood at once why the philosophers and poets both waxed so romantic on the concept of windows to the soul. He could see your tenderness, your diffidence, your sincerity all there in your jewel-like eyes.

“People talkin’ over you all the time,” he continued with a low murmur, looking down at the cup when the intensity of your stare grew too much—just like looking directly into the sun, “actin’ like you’re invisible or somethin’. Gets frustratin’, yeah? Couldn’t even bother to act like you’re there, could they? No. Seems like too much to ask.”

“Yeah,” you said somberly, but when Steven dared a glance up at you, your expression was one of complete understanding. Never before had he felt so seen. “It doesn’t help when you’re really not a people person to begin with.”

And now that Steven considered it more deeply, he realized that you were right—why did he prefer to stay home rather than go out? Keeping company with a goldfish certainly wasn’t an extrovert’s definition of a good time. Hell, the only reason he really went out of his way to engage with those on the fringes of his daily routine was because he felt it was rude not to because of constant exposure, not because he was itching to have the conversations themselves. He worried constantly that he’d overshare or annoy people, when most wouldn’t even think of it.

He let out a soft laugh, pressing a palm across his forehead.

You quirked a brow, your expression perking up just a bit at the sound. “What?”

“I just realized I’m not really a people person, either,” he said, shaking his head. “Thought all this time everyone else was just awkward at social interaction.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, and there was that ephemeral sparkle of mirth back in your eyes. “Well. Better late than never, right?”

“Right.” He paused, then set the drink on the counter to fish around in his pocket for his wallet. “Here, since you’ve been an absolute angel—”

“Oh, no, please,” you said, waving your palms at him in an attempt to dissuade him, “it was my pleasure. Finding someone else as big of a nerd about Ancient Egypt was tip enough, thank you. You’ve made my whole day.”

And even though his morning thus far had been an utter disaster, Steven believed that you had made his entire day, too.

“Well, all right.” He pointed a finger at you with a wry, toothy grin. “But next time you won’t be able to talk me out of it.”

“Next time?” you echoed, and the unadulterated hope in your eyes made his heart clench.

“Yeah,” he said, “where else will I be able to order the ambrosia of the gods? And nerd out about ancient civilizations? Not all baristas carry a double-edged sword like you do.”

You bit your lip, rolled the hem of your sleeve between your fingertips, and looked down and away. “Oh, stop it. It’s really just a hobby.” You gave him another cheeky smile. “But, if it would make a difference to you, since you seem the type…” You leaned in across the counter, and Steven found himself copying the action as though you had magnetized him. “...there’s a bookstore upstairs, too.”

Oh, bloody Nora, as if you weren’t already perfect enough.

Read the rest of the chapter here! :)

[ze0re]

╭﹐ఌ﹕Teasing You﹒〣 ﹕‹𝟹 －𝖡𝖮𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖭 𝖦𝖠𝖭𝖦

cw/tw. cussing, drugs, soft smut, choking, gun kink, smoking, weed, making out, black!reader

an. i’m a fool for Koko..thats it no its not anyways hey guys! decided to write one shots for the bonten boys 😜 hope yall enjoyyyy

𝖬𝖠𝖭𝖩𝖨𝖱𝖮 𝖲𝖠𝖭𝖮

✰ 𝖮𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄．

You did not like this one bit.

Your top was half way off, same with your bra strap lazily lying on your arm, your skirt slid up to the top of your thigh..you didn’t like it!— well actually that’s a lie you loved every moment of it but you didn’t like that fact someone could burst in on you two. Manjiro kissed and bit your neck, gripping onto his arm whimpering from the sudden feeling of his fangs biting at the skin of your neck. Your mind was fuzzy as the heat in the room and pleasure was getting too much for you, his knee pushed against your clothed crotch earning a flinch and a squeal leaving your throat. He grinned pulling back from your neck, now attacking your lips with his own sliding tongue in savoring your taste, you moaned into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him closer earning a groan.

His hands on your waist glided themselves to your ass giving them a harsh squeeze, your hands started to unknowingly roam around his tinder body, gliding them from his shoulder to his chest and down to his pants loop tugging him forward, you trailed your fingertips to his bulge grouping him through his pants. He smirked before abruptly pulling back from standing inside your legs shaking his head making you furrow your eyebrows. “Why’d you..” You started with a slight whine, Manjiro shrugged looking at the mess he made outta you in satisfaction. “M’Don’t know.” He simply answered, you bit your lip feeling embarrassed, “But, I've been good this whole week. Don’t I deserve at least something?” You looked at him with a slight pout, he chuckled, walking back in between your legs grabbing your jaw with one hand pulling you close to his face, “Do you think you deserve something?” He faked pouted, teasing you, you frowned.

This wasn’t fair at all. He was teasing you and getting enjoyment out of it while you’re over here tryna get off! He’s teased you for far too long today it was starting to piss you off, at first it started with soft kisses to the cheek and pecks, then turned to kisses to your neck, then..to your lips…and then leading up to now. You really thought you were about to get dick down after getting denied for two weeks.

How pathetic.

You should’ve known he would be fuckin with you as soon as he gotten you half naked ontop of his office desk with soaked panties. You glared at him as he grinned leaning down pecking your lips, “Wipe that glare off your face,” He warned raising a brow, rolling your eyes in response looking away from him. “You’re being a bully.” You mumbled, earning a hum. “I wouldn’t have to be a bully if someone knew how to be respectful when being asked to do something.” He scowled, making you scoff, “You’re STILL on about that? Manjiro, I said I was sorry!” He shrugged his shoulders, “Oh but baby, sorry isn’t good enough for me. If you really want me to forgive you..” He paused leaning down towards your ear, “Why don’t you show how good you are for me, hm?” In an instant you nodded your head. You were so fucking desperate for relief, your fingers couldn’t even do shit for you. Your hands went straight to his belt to unbuckle it but got stopped when he grabbed your wrists gripping them. You gasped at the tightness looking up at him to see that dark and lustful glare in his dark eyes, “Oh no. We’re gonna do this a different way.”

“My way.”

𝖧𝖠𝖱𝖴𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖸𝖮 𝖲𝖠𝖭𝖹𝖴

☆ You didn’t expect Sanzu to do this in all honesty.

He had you sitting on top of his lap at the club you guys were at with the rest of the gang, except Mikey of course. At first you didn’t mind it thinking he seen some guy look at you weirdly or had googly eyes but the way he kept shifting under you bucking his hips up against your ass told you otherwise,

He was teasing you.

If you tried to tease him back you wouldn’t get a chance when you felt his gun press up against your back making you stop. Sanzu always knew about your little gun kink when he had you pinned against a wall holding it to your temple that night seeing how you weren’t afraid knowing he wouldn’t hurt you and saw that look in your eyes, the same look you give when you’re turned on. Ever since he would use that against you whenever you acted up. Feeling the coldness of the head pressed up against your exposed waist sent shivers down your back, when he pressed the gun up to your back he pulled your head back with a chuckle whispering in your ear, “Now now doll, don’t even think about it.” His harsh voice echoed leaving you to nod your head trying to keep your cool, the shit he was pulling was completely unfair.

He was teasing you infront of the group who paid no mind thank goodness making you feel many things. You weren’t really big on public sex or PDA but sometimes you were, but on the other hand..Sanzu was a big freak for public sex, doing it in the bathrooms, at house parties— you admit the thought of getting caught kinda turned you on. You huffed feeling his gun go back to wherever it came from giving you freedom to lean over to the table to roll up a blunt you had to pause on. You smiled in relief, finally finishing up your blunt, placing it between your lips, leaning towards Koko who had his lighter out and ready to light yours. Koko shakily leaned his arm out lighting your blunt, soon having that marijuana smell enter your nose. You took a big inhale leaning back against Sanzus chest releasing that built up air into the open night, you hummed feeling his tender hands massage your waist slightly groaning at the one spot that felt nicer from the rest, taking another inhale from your blunt but soon choked on it feeling his hands go to your inner thighs, close to your crotch. You turned your head slightly giving him a warning glance but he of course ignored it and grinned,

He bucked his hips up rubbing his now boner against your ass hearing a soft groan from him, you held tightly onto your blunt trying to hide your moans taking another inhale, he smirked unknowingly hearing that quiet moan from you. Sanzu started to slowly rotate his hips along your ass making you start to squirm against him, you desperately needed him to quit and fuck you already.

You couldn’t take this anymore.

Moving forward right now you didn’t care about your surroundings you needed to get off. You abruptly stood up catching a few eyes, “Y-You okay (Y/N)?” Koko said drunkly with a smile on his face, you nodded your head, “Yep! I just gotta go to the bathroom so i’ll be back.” You said in an instant walking off to the restroom having Sanzu raise a brow, he knew that look..that look when youre desperate for something. He grinned seeing you speed walk away standing up as well, “Imma go grab us some more drinks, yeah?” The drunken group all nodded their heads not paying attention to that knowing smirk on his face.

When you reached the bathroom you slammed your hands onto the sink counter, squeezing your legs together trying to get some pleasure. You thanked the heavens that the club had separated bathrooms leaving you to do your business with your fingers, you glided your fingers from your waist to the hem of your pants, before you could slide your hand into your panties a hand stopped you snapping you back into reality. You forgot to lock the door. You gasped at the harsh grip feeling his boner press up against your ass as he leaned down towards your ear, “Did i say you could fuck your self?” You groaned shaking your head hearing him chuckle with a deep echo, “If you’ve been a good little girl and jus sat there lookin all pretty takin what i gave you, i would’ve rewarded you.”

What I say? He’s unfair.

You gripped the sink counter feeling your pussy clench around nothing, “Please Haru..I couldn’t take anymore, I need you inside please.” You practically begged, backing your hips into his boner earning a groan, he snarled under his breath moving his hand to grip your throat pushing your head back against his shoulder, using his other hand to press his gun up against your crotch. Your eyes widen by the sudden shock. “Oh but i’m sure you could’ve but chose not to, and now you gotta face the consequences pretty girl.” He growled into your ear, you whimpered feeling the head of the gun press harder against your core, you felt as if you were gonna cry. You were extremely impatient and he knows this, the feeling of being horny was not fun when you’re dating the psychopath of bonten. You felt his hand loosen around your neck instead grabbing onto your shaky fingers placing them on his gun, you furrowed your eyebrows from the sudden switch till you felt him push you, bending you over the sink counter smirking.

“If you wanna get off so fuckin badly use the gun..pretend it’s my dick since a desperate little whore couldn’t wait.”

𝖱𝖠𝖭 𝖧𝖠𝖨𝖳𝖠𝖭𝖨

☆ “I don’t think doctors are supposed to be this rough with their patients, yeah?”

“Shut it before I stitch your lips together Haitani.”

He smiled teasingly in response as you continued to treat his wounds, he had came back all..fucked up, he had bruises everywhere you felt like killing the older Haitani brother yourself. There were bruises on his face, his back, his arms, stomach just everywhere! When Ran came into your room with a smile on his face you knew something was up and well…here you are.

An hour later still treating his wounds because he wants to keep moving and fuck around.

Ran was getting enjoyment out of making you mad because first you look cute whenever you get/got mad at him, second those cute threats you throw at him, and third your scolding’s, he couldn’t take any of it serious. Same goes with Rindou just by watching from afar seeing how he acts just to purposely piss you off he felt your pain, i mean he grew up with the asshole, he did nothin but mess with him. You turned around to grab more bandages, slightly bending down to grab them when you felt a harsh sting on your right ass cheek making you jolt forward, turning around in an instant seeing that smug smirk on his face, “What? It looks slappable plus it was in front of me, couldn’t help it.” Any moment now you were about to pounce on him but held back knowing he could easily pin you to the ground,

You groaned heavily walking back in between his legs continuing to work on his face, Ran watched how concentrated you were, staring at you with his gold eyes getting lost into your (E/C) ones as you worked. You were so damn cute, he slid his hands around your waist pulling you closer to him, feeling your chest onto his, you raised a brow, “Do you need something?” He shook his head rolling his eyes, “I can’t even hold my own girlfriend without you questioning things.” He huffed but smiled seeing you roll your eyes continuing to clean the cuts on his face, “I only do it cause you always pull some typa bullshit.” He smirked sliding his hands down to be placed on your ass giving them a slight squeeze seeing you jolt, “What do you mean?” You glared at him earning a laugh in return, you ignored the foolishness placing a bandage on his right cheek moving on to the last bruise that was placed by his lower lip,

But of course you got interrupted when he decided to become a real asshole by leaning his face closer to yours feeling his breath hit your lips, you looked wide eyed by how close he was, it wasn’t anything new but everytime he did this it made you flustered. You weren’t really good when he held eye contact with you for that long, along with being so close to you, he brought his hand up to be placed on your throat tilting your head up slightly placing his lips ontop of yours sliding his tongue in catching you off guard, shooting your hands to his knee gripping it. He smiled into the kiss giving your throat a harsh squeeze earning a soft moan from you. Making out with Ran always leads to something, even if you don’t want it to lead to something he always finds a way to lead you both to having sex. Kissing him always made butterflies enter your stomach, it was rough yet gentle at the same time sometimes he could get carried away with the touching. If the heat of the moment gets more heated then it is his hands start to roam every inch of your body, your ass, tits, waist even groping you through your pants!.

You felt his hand start to roam your body, he glided them from your boobs, to your stomach and finally up your skirt, you whimpered into the kiss feeling his hands brush up against your pussy feeling the fabric move along with his fingers. You gripped tighter on his knee as his fingers rubbed you, Ran pulled away from the kiss slightly biting your lip leaning his head towards your neck starting to suck on it, you bit your bottom lip trying to avoid more moans escaping you scared you would alert someone. Rans fingers continued to rub against your pussy feeling that wetness soak through your panties, he smirked into your neck before pulling back same with his fingers having an unexpected whine leave you. “Why’d you stop?” You questioned with desperation in your tone, he shrugged his shoulders, hopping off your bathroom counter towering over you with that same dirty smirk, “I don’t think my doctor is supposed to make out with their patient now, eh?” That dirty bastard, he wasn’t playing nice nor fair! You were standing there with soaked panties. You crossed your arms glaring at him, “Ran there’s no way you’re gonna leave me like this..” He chuckled, placing his hand on your throat pulling you close to him and tilting your head up to meet his gaze…that dark and lustful gaze. He leaned his head down slightly,

“Oh but i will princess, you got fingers for a reason. Now use em.”

𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖣𝖮𝖴 𝖧𝖠𝖨𝖳𝖠𝖭𝖨

☆ Let’s be honest, Rindou isn’t that much into teasing like Ran.

He’s the type to just instantly get what he wants without doing any such teasing, he wants to fuck you? He does it, he wants to eat your pussy? He does it without warning. He’s just a typical guy who gets what he wants with no question, but I would say he does tease you every now and then. When he does decide to tease you it’s to weaken you and get enjoyment out of it it was horrible..for you at least. His teasing would contain a lot of…toys. The worst toy out of all is the Vibrator..that pink of a toy shoved into your pussy with him controlling it. Basically controlling your orgasms, half the time you would forget you had it in you till you felt that shock of pleasure vibrate through you making you choke a moan. You hated it so much but if you refused you would’ve gotten the choice to get the two way which was extremely worse than the single, so without a single hesitation you snatched the pink toy silently cussing him out.

You, Ran, Him, Koko and Sanzu were all hanging out at this local bar Ran had found, it was a nice laid out bar with a lot of space inside looking like a club almost, you were sat by Ran laughing at him as him and Koko began to fight about a bet he set out, on the other side of you Rindou was staring at the back and of your head twirling with small remote he had hidden in his pocket. You felt his stare but ignored it taking a sip of your drink, before you could swallow it all you felt the toy go off directly hitting your g spot making you jolt up choking on your drink catching Ran and Kokos attention. “Woah (Y/N) you good?” Ran questioned making you nod your head not trusting your voice, Rindou smirked at you trying to keep yourself together taking a sip from his beer, he had the vibrator at a low speed but still it felt too damn good and it was perfectly hitting your g spot! You shakily grabbing onto the counter feeling an orgasm start to come, you silently squealing to yourself squeezing your legs together ready for it to happen, but right as it was about to come out you felt the vibrator turn off, you clenched your fist together groaning to yourself. He denied you for the third time tonight! You were getting sick of it,

Again and again you felt the toy shoot waves of pleasure into you, clenching around the toy from the lost of your orgasm was pissing you off, he’s denied you five times already. Luckily the group was drunk asf to even focus on you at the moment, your legs were shaky you felt as if you tried to stand up you would be denied and hit the floor. You chugged the rest of your drink glaring at your boyfriend who only grinned in response, you squeezed and moved your legs to get the toy moving so you can at least have that pleasure, Rin raised a brow turning the toy on to max speed seeing your eyes widen and hands covering your mouth having silent moans leave your mouth. Your eyes started to water slightly but quickly blinked them away focusing on the movements that were hitting your g spot, again you felt that knot in your stomach you’re about to cum, without any second you finally felt yourself cum onto the toy feeling your eyes roll back and legs squeezing. Rin turned off the toy, standing up grabbing onto you, “Me and (Y/N) are gonna go, we have meetings tomorrow,” He simply said to the drunken trio who only nodded their heads going back to their convo, he lifted you up to your feet seeing how shaky you are. He raised a brow with a grin on his face, “Rinny..i don’t think i can walk.” You whispered, he hummed in response picking you up bridal style and making his way towards his car.

-

“You’re such an asshole you know that?” You huffed pulling your pants off along with your panties taking out the vibrator to see your cum leaking around it, he shrugged his shoulders, looking at the ruined toy that leaked with your juices. “Be thankful I even let you cum on that pathetic thing.” You silently mocked him rolling your eyes, “Yeah yeah…but since that’s over i can get dick right?!”

“No.”

𝖧𝖠𝖩𝖨𝖬𝖤 𝖪𝖮𝖪𝖮𝖭𝖮𝖨

☆ You were his princess.

He loved spoiling the fuck out of you, buying you clothes, shoes, purses, getting your nails done and especially giving you dick. But he also loved teasing the hell out of you, loved the way your nose scrunched in pleasure when he rubs his boner on your clothed pussy, loved how you begged for him..he just loved it all! His favorite is having you sat all pretty and dressed up on his lap counting his money for the day, he would do it but honestly he likes it when you do it so he could have you sitting on top of his dick like this. Every now and then he would try to distract you by placing his hands on your waist or having them rest on your tits, it was most definitely working! But you got a good memory which is helping you out,

Koko laid his head on your shoulder as he watched you count the third stack, slightly rotating his hips along your ass grinning hearing a soft groan in return. “Would you stop it? You’re making my job harder than it is.” You scowled as he chuckled, “That’s my job princess, now continue being a pretty little thing and count.” You rolled your eyes huffing as you continued counting his stack, sometimes you wish you could smack that smirk off his face by doing your own teasing but if you even tried it you would’ve gotten denied instantly. Koko saw how you were almost done with the third stack moving onto the last one, he leaned his head to peck your shoulder blade feeling his soft kisses being pecked on you.

You smiled to yourself at the soft action leaning into his touch but soon moaned softly feeling his hands travel down to your inner thigh close to your crotch squeezing it. You almost forgot what number you were on before instantly remembering forcing yourself to continue, you were almost done there was no way you were gonna forget what number you’re on….untill you felt his legs spread a little wider directly coming into contact with his boner. It rubbed perfectly against your ass as he started to move your hips back and forth, “Shit princess..” He groaned making you bite your lip trying to get this done, you were so close you only had a few more to count. As soon as you counted the finally bill, you huffed in relief turning yourself around on his lap instantly slamming your lips onto his, he grinned kissing you back as one hand was on your ass moving you against his hard grinding on it as the other was placed on your mid back making you arch, you breathed heavily pulling away attacking his neck with love marks as he leaned back letting you do whatever. Chuckling breathlessly, going towards your ear.

“M’finna ruin you.”

[beautifulhigh]

It's me, hi, over-reading it's me

Welcome to today's "Jen is on her meta, spiralling bullshit" entry. I make no apologies for this - anyone who has followed me for more than two minutes will know this is very much my thing.

I get yelled at in a LOT of tags as a result.

ANYWAY. On my daily rewatch I had to pause at the hospital because it hit me.

"All right, what else? It couldn't have just been the conference... Oh my god it is. It is, isn't it?" "Don't minimise it." "How could I possibly? It's already as minimal as it gets." "It was my first foray into the world as a public figure and I was really scared, and you could have helped me and you didn't."

It isn't minimal though, it never was for Alex. The comment about it being his first foray into the world was something and enough of an explanation as to why Alex has held on to this resentment, but there is more to it, more he doesn't share in that janitor's closet.

But even though Henry dismissed it as "minimal as it gets", he shows that he accepts it wasn't for Alex and he apologises for being a prick, offering his own explanation for his actions. But not in the "so you should forgive ME" kind of way. Just in the "I hope this helps you understand me" kind of way.

Later, in a hotel bed in Paris, Alex will tell Henry how he wants to do more. How helping people, making a difference, using his platform and his visibilty means so much to him. Being the kind of person that his dad didn't get to see growing up. Henry will tell Alex that he's learning. And he is.

Later, Alex emails Henry and expresses his fears about letting his mother down while on the campaign trail in Texas, and Henry reassures him, tells him that he understands what he's saying (so he doesn't minimise them this time) and makes it clear how proud he is. Because he has learned that Alex's fears can consume him and they are very real and valid to him.

Later, in the gardens of Kensington Palace, a broken-hearted Henry will ask his sister if what they do makes any real difference. Because he has learned what this can mean to someone and how he has this gift in his position and his status.

Later, he will ask Alex for time so he can learn how to be brave, because he wants his love for Alex to be a part of his written history. Because he has learned that putting yourself into the world is a terrifying thing and sometimes you need to ask for help with that.

Later, the first thing he will ask Alex is if he is OK, because he has learned to ask, to not just focus on his own emotions. (Which given the Melbourne Climate Conference was literal months after Arthur's death, Henry is once again going through some Serious Emotional Shit™. But now he asks.)

Later, he will tell his brother and his grandfather that he is not going to hide who he is, who he loves, for the sake of maintaining the traditional royal image out of fear that he won't be accepted by the people. Because he has learned that there is love and support out there for him to be who he really is.

A moment after, he will take Alex's hand and walk out onto the balcony in front of the crowd waving the LGBTQIA+ flag. Because he listened and he learned and it won't be minimal to someone else.

Henry was so focused on himself and his feelings in Melbourne, and he ended up hurting someone that he came to love so deeply and completely. And while what he did during that first night party was understandable - grief is overwhemingly powerful and almost never gracious - he learns that what he does matters. How he is seen matters. How he interacts with people matters.

In a janitor's closet in a hospital Henry asks the question which changes the course of how he starts to see everything. He listens. He learns.

[la-pheacienne]

Neither Daemon nor Rhaenyra never actually spoke words "I love you/her/him" about each other. it is not an accusation, just a note. At what moment do you think their feelings changed from familial to romantic and they realized it? I think Rhaenyra had a teenage crush on him even in ep 1. But he probably realized something only in episode 4.

Ohhh this is actually an interesting question anon. Rhaenyra just called Daemon "my love" and said "I want you uncle" and then "I need you" and it's true, nobody said I love you.

So big disclaimer. When you follow a story and a particular fictional romantic couple you always need to pay attention to the context. Context is everything. You can also call it interior logic of the story. Every story has one, and you need to keep that in mind if you want to decide how to feel about certain things.

So the context of that particular story is that you have a little girl, raised in an incestuous family and in an era where girls got married very very young, so they started looking for spouses even younger. This girl has a very cool oncle that gives her a lot of attention and also has all the qualities she admires in a partner, but she can't have for herself because she is a girl. He also happens to be hot. So girl falls for said uncle very very early on. That's canon, no doubt about that, it's obvious even in the show that she is smitten as a teenager.

Then you have a man who has been raised in an incestuous family, who is very loyal to said family and has this burden of not being recognised enough as a second son. This man has a niece that he loves and probably very early on considered that she could be a great partner when she grew older, a partner worthy of him, but unfortunately he got married to someone he didn't choose because politics. Then that niece begins to actually resemble him, in all the ways that matter, and he admires her indépendance and firey personality, he understands that they actually have so much in common and that she sees him, truly. She is also hot. So he's like, wait, not only this girl could be a great partner on paper, I actually want her to be my partner in life. We are meant to be.

And they are. Rhaenyra wants a strong Targaryen by her side, a male warrior and Dragonrider like herself, that is absolutely loyal to her. Daemon wants a strong Targaryen by his side, a powerful Queen and Dragonrider like himself, who is not afraid of him but instead embraces him completely and gives him the family acceptance he craved for. Being Targaryens, they are fucked up in the head, obviously (context) and they are also rulers, so there will be fights and competition and ugliness and spite and maybe cheating but in the context they are meant to be. He dies for her and his family.

So love? What does "I love you" mean after this? I believe it could sound a little corny to say that in their context. I believe that they absolutely love each other but it's better to show it by actions and in the narrative, and not by words. Then we also have this kind of shit

So why do we need an "I love you"?

But to answer your question specifically, I believe that Rhaenyra was smitten with him first, then he was smitten with her when he saw her in 1x04 (before he was just entertaining the idea but not in a serious way) then they made out and both realised that they are actually in love, then shit got real very quickly and after many many years they were finally be able to become one. That's it. This blog does not accept any pedo grooming shit, nor Daemon is only after the throne shit. This is crackhead territory and I won't even bother explaining why. Just look at them and watch the show (this is not at all addressed to you anon, it's a general advice).

Btw the GIFs are not mine, some of them are by @lady-phasma but not all, I hope you will forgive me because I'm trying to spread the word of God here.

[moodymisty]

Hi! Anon that wrote the huge ask about the yandere Night Lord (and implied yandere Salamander) scenario (the one with the in between pink coloured words), Ive been having thoughts about it again. And you know, the whole Knight fighting a Dragon dynamic becomes really funny when you think about how narrative-wise, all space marines are dragons.

A space marines, just like dragons. Are big huge monstercreatures who (in most cases) randomly arrive into a settlement of innocent people and wreak havoc all over the place (destroying cities, killing innocents, probably stealing some stuff if its a xenos settlement, and so on and so forth). They’re powerful, clever, and very hard to kill. You must kill them nonetheless. But the only difference between them and dragons is that space marines are, theoretically, on your side. They’re humanised enough for you to overlook the atrocities they commit. They’re doing this because it will help out humanity in the long term, they’re doing this because their primarch said so, they’re doing this because they think its right. But in the end it all boils down to how they have no other option, or a better way of phrasing it: its all that they can do. They’re made to kill. They’ve been irreparably transformed into something horrible and theres no going back from that, and its not like they had any choice in the matter either. You could even say that this mirrors the trope of someone’s greed and ego being the cause of a dragon to appear in a story (that someone in question being The Emperor)

So i find it kind of funny that in this scenario the Salamander sees himself as a knight. Like babe! You’re no different from any other space marine!! The fact that his legion interacts with people more doesn’t change who he is. He has just convinced himself that what he is, is noble. Like he’s some sort of symbol of hope and strength instead of being a walking talking murder weapon. He’s a dragon thats been brought up to think his scales are chainmail and that his claws are swords, that he’s totally not like his traitorous cousins, that he’s humanity’s loyal house dog instead of a fire breathing beast chained to a leash.

Yes he is fighting to save you, yes he loves you more than words could ever express. But to an outsiders perspective this isn’t a brave hero battling a monster to save his beloved, its two serpents fighting over the most sparkling jewel in a treasure hoard

I vehemently adore all of this. Particularly the part about how they think of themselves; As from their view of the story, they're the hero, but another might view them as the villain. Forgive my unfiltered, unrevised ramblings.

It reminds me of a moment from (I believe it was Unremembered Empire? forgive me if I'm wrong) where the Night Lords are waging war on Macragge and the civilians are seeing other Astartes besides the Ultramarines in action for the first time and realizing that, holy shit, these guys are actually horrifying. And looking at their 'protectors' in a whole new light. The Ultramarines proclaim they're different because they choose to be, but we've seen before that even the friendliest of space marines can change their tune when they feel it appropriate.

But back on topic. Salamanders.

Something relevant would be that even their beloved might possibly view them as that brave hero, at first. But as time goes on, they might see cracks in that visage and realize that the man guarding them is more beast than man, holding back a near animalistic desire for carnage. We know that even the most loving of Salamander is more than capable of being an emotionless killer when he desires it. Hell, you could even say it's a core part of them; It's not like you can muzzle a dragon. You can at best point them in the direction you want them to go.

Your Salamander might spare you some of the goriest of details, or the darkest parts of him, but you can see the tail wrapped around you, and how you're kept so close not only because of your safety, but also because he sees you as his. You're the treasure he's found, you're the jewel that rests on top of a pile of gold, and you're not going anywhere. He always looks at you(his treasure) fondly, but there's a possessiveness in his eyes that only gets worse over time.

Other Salamanders are seen as threats and thieves if they get too close. He's the hero of this story, duty bound to protect you even if he has to get his hands bloody. It's all for a purpose, therefor he's leagues different than the Night Lords that act as his chapter's opposite.

If you ever have to do your job or duty, and interact with other Salamanders or other members of humanity he's always right there; Guarding his treasure. And while he might technically be on a leash, it's extremely taught.

[rxyhiraeth]

SO PJO CAME OUT TODAY

and i have a lot of thoughts

this is just me screaming into the void about this show that i’ve been excited about since it’s been announced.

i haven’t personally really read the books in a bit, so if i am remembering things incorrectly or forgetting if something was in the books or not, forgive me (and correct me and my terrible memory)

OBVIOUSLY SPOILERS AHEAD

EPISODE 1: I Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher

first off - chapter titles. i knew about this a while ago but im so happy we are doing this

getting the whole speech from percy in the beginning oh we are so back

blackjack??? that was blackjack right??

MYTHOMAGIC CARDS

if this gets us actual mythomagic cards we can buy, so help me god. i’m gonna spend all my money on them

i will never be able to speak highly enough about sally jackson. best fictional mom ever and i love her with all of my heart.

the “hold fast perseus. brave the storm” parallel at the beginning and end of the episode oh i’m sick to my stomach

the fountain scene felt a little… goofy? from what i remember percy just remembers her ending up in the fountain,like it sounds like he kinda blacks out. maybe that’s actually how it was in the books, but i did imagine it differently.

grover and brunner being the KINGS of gaslighting

percy is stronger than i could ever be if grover exposed me like that i couldn’t talk to him for like a year.

the biggest issue i’ve seen everyone talk about: gabe. i understand WHY they made him how he is in the tv show. it’s a disney show, they can’t have him be completely book accurate putting his hands on sally and threatening percy for money so he can play poker, but i feel like this doesn’t fit with how he ends up at the end of book 1. maybe we will see a more ‘evil’ side to him through the news interviews and stuff, or he will have a different ending, but i feel like the way he acts now doesn’t justify his end in book 1 that i expect to see in the tv show.

sally in the rain listening to olivia rodrigo i love her so much 😭😭😭

d’angelos??? it’s spelled differently but reference perhaps? i cannot WAIT to see nico i hope we get to see him in the casino

i didn’t get this until i saw someone point it out but the cuts to black were ends of chapters!! and it makes so much more sense. i will say it feels a bit odd?? but i honestly prefer it more as someone who has read the books.

i find the whole sally explaining the gods to percy interesting. it fits for the tv show more, but i love book percy just getting forced into camp half blood without any real knowledge just like “what the fuck is going on”

“Like… like Jesus?” PERCY PLS

i love this grover reveal, but the BEST will forever be the musical

“She was a fury!” “YOU’RE a furry, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR LEGS?!?”

grover dropping the fact he is 24 in a super intense scene is very grover

that first shot of thalia’s tree lit up by the LIGHTNING gave me CHILLS

the entire minotaur scene was incredible. sally’s speech to grover and percy. percy killing the minotaur. insane

not to mention sally taking percy’s jacket to throw off the minotaurs scent? such a cool choice

EPISODE 2: I Become Supreme Lord of the Bathroom

"you droll when you sleep" YUPPP MHMM YUP

ik that the whole 'Mr. D trying to use percy to get a drink' thing is supposed to be a little joke, but its also such a good way to explain the whole "gods can get their kids to steal shit for them because they can't do it themselves" without having a whole dramatic moment explaining it.

in my head I imagined the entire camp being very heavily wooded, maybe that's just the movies having some influence over me when it comes to visualization, but it was cool to see the camp in the actually valley in a very book accurate portrayal.

OH THE CABINS MY EYES WERE GLUED THE WHOLE TIME

THEY LOOK SO GOOD

this tv show has already captured the two personally traits of percy jackson: 1. he loves his mom 2. he hates the gods

the jelly beans

seeing Luke befriend percy and be his first friend at camp luke I am in your fucking walls

I personally feel like the way they have chosen to portray clarisse is quite different from the books, but I absolutely love it. i was not a fan of her for a while in the books, but I love her immediately in this version.

also did we get to 'see' the cloven council in tlt? I don't think we did, and I like seeing it in prep for sea of monsters.

the entire scene of percy praying to his mom breaks me. oh my god. favorite scene in the entire show so far. it breaks my heart he loves and misses her so much.

"I think I've made some friends here. like real friends" luke I have a gun

the whole bathroom scene. that's it.

ANNABETH

maybe its just different seeing all these characters portrayed well on the screen, but she feels super different than book annabeth but also exactly the same. im not 100% how to explain it but there is no one better to play annabeth than leah

I am so excited to see this slowburn all over again

"she my little sister" luke please

thalia name pronunciation how are we feeling team

i have 100% been pronouncing it the other way this whole time but oh well

"sunshine" hey! when we get the first "seaweed brain" I am going to go crazy

"percy's on it. when its time he's gonna be ready" are you sure about that luke

in the books the main 'introduction scene' we got with clarisse was the bathrooms, but this scene with her in the woods feel much more like an introduction scene and im not sure if this was done on purpose, but I love her and this scene.

annabeth. I cannot stress my love for her enough

annabeth pushing him into the water instead of him falling. love her

percy FINALLY finding a place he belongs only to be forced out on a quest for his dad that he fucking hates

"good kid" from tlt musical was so right

"I am Sally Jackson's son!" what if I just started eating glass rn

anyway I am absolutely obsessed with this show already. I am so sorry to anyone who doesn't want pjo on their feed you are getting it anyway.

if this show is your first introduction to the series. read the books! or at least the lightning thief. and for the love of god LISTEN TO THE MUSICAL. I cannot stress enough how good of a portrayal of the book it is and it is my all time favorite interpretation of the books (although this show may take that top spot soon).

[ohisms]

↪    𝑨 𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑹 𝑹𝑶𝑺𝑬 .    (  a  collection  of  sentence  starters  from  chapter one  of  r.h. sin’s  poetry  collection  “ she fits inside these words ” .  adjust  phrasing  as  necessary .  triggering  themes  may  be  implied .  )

staying makes no sense .

you’re taken ,  but you’re alone .

i wish you smiled at me that way .

come on ,  you’re kidding yourself .

it’s like you’re waiting to be loved .

you’re here every night ,  aren’t you ?

i’ll be honest ,  i’ve lied to myself .

listen ,  i know you hate being alone .

you don’t need to turn the volume down .

why do we make each other wait for love ?

i have found myself being in awe of you .

it made ruins of my heart ,  loving you .

you left ,  and i grew stronger without you .

i’m sorry ,  i don’t want to come off as rude .

a part of me hates the idea of finding true love .

i wish i could promise some fashion of salvation .

your heart was never meant to carry this sadness .

am i wrong for believing i could be right for you ?

i hate the way i fumbled my heart into your hands .

the silence was always the loudest coming from you .

your eyes are always so sad in every photo you post .

i have been searching for you while being distracted .

i felt it .  the moment we began to lose one another .

we lose so much time holding on to lovers who hate us .

it’s strange ;  my heart is heavy and empty at all times .

be a mess when it’s over ,  if that’s how you really feel .

maybe it’s none of my business ,  but i’ll take my chances .

you’ve been wasting those restless 3am’s on the wrong person .

your heart is a sanctuary ,  the way you have me on my knees .

when you’re ready to choose someone other than yourself ,  choose me .

crazy to think that i was hoping you’d silence my demons ,  but they were you all along .

don’t tell me ghosts aren’t real when i can see you but you’re obviously no longer here .

i didn’t want advice ,  i didn’t want a solution .  i just wanted you to hug me .  that was it .

it’s like you’re trying to forgive yourself for all the shit that he did to you .  that’s not right .

i hate the way i could muster up the courage to care for someone who was never brave enough to fall for me .

i guess i care way too much about something that has nothing to do with me ,  but that won’t stop me from saying all of this to you.

[jar-of-maise]

fontaine archon quest, furina story quest spoilers + brainrot

so after doing the 4.2 quest, i have to say that i really dislike the characterisation of the Traveller and Paimon. Obviously, there's a emotional appeal for the audience to see Furina's suffering but I don't like how we basically manipulate her, decieve her and then harass her straight after the main plot? Like girly says she doesn't want to return to acting and what do our beloved MC's do? Harass her until she agrees.

coming from a story writer's perspective, i can see how the story was done to further...idk character development but to be completely honest, i would have loved it if Furina died in the end, or even disliked the Traveller. Eitherway, I think that the reconciliation arc was so abrupt and quick for my liking. Of course, the question could always become, "if not now then when?" And my answer to that is, realistic forgiveness and closure is rarely present in real life. Yes, the game is fantasy and does not have to conform to reality but I can't help thinking that some depth has been missed/could've been added.

Furina doesn't get enough credit for her work - and maybe the tragedy and point of the quest was to highlight that. But like, I have to say the way everyone treated her during her trial (okay, I know, no one knew anything about shit at the time just let me rant), and worse, after the conclusion of the archon quest had me raging ngl.

Can you imagine playing this tortuous role for basically 500 years, staking your every hope upon a plan plotted by a "mirror you" you've only met once and never again? Not to mention that it might be all for naught?

And then the people you are trying to save isolateand ostracize you? You're tricked and fooled until the very "hope" you wish to maintain (the act) is basically destroyed? And when you've begun to finally find respite, you're forced back onto the stage and made fun of, called poor and mocked for ... not having a personality because you've been playing as someone else? Like, Traveller has their therapy, "makes character's better" moments but this was not one of them.

At the same time though, it makes the Traveller more realistic, which I can appreciate. They want answers, and the continuous theme of, "Archons not knowing jackshit or running away" is tiring. But like, you would have also thought that it could be a point of sympathy not just, making someone suffer????

Hello???

But Traveller and Paimon's extremely irritating actions aside, I can see it from everyone else's POV - that is, Fontaine is literally about to go under, and that for 500+ years the "god" they worship has been saying, "trust me," but hasn't done (in the eyes of the people) anything.

so idk, the archon quest makes me feel very conflicted, and honestly good for hoyoverse. but man, furina was quite literally dealt one of the worst cards to date.

TLDR; i rant about furina and how she deserved better but that tbf i would also be very confused if all i knew was a bratty archon doing nothing (seemingly) for the nation but....also, the injustice and unfair treatment furina got AFTER the archon quest - i could write a full essay about her character deadass x_x

[occasionalrpmemes]

Amigo the Devil: Volume 1 Starters

sentences taken from the 2015 album. edit as desired. warning: this one does NOT pass the Hayes Code lmao. content includes, but is not limited to: sex, violence (both domestic and otherwise), alcohol, strong language, religion, general moral degeneracy, et cetera

It's all for you.

I'd rot in hell with you, if you'd just ask me to.

Come on, believe me, follow me home, there's no judgement here.

Take the shot.

This night is going to end horribly for someone.

I'm not so much afraid of letting go as much as scared of giving up.

Open up to me.

The Devil came and sold his fucking soul to me!

If I've hurt you, please forgive me. Love makes you do funny things.

This fire feels so real.

Don't say a word, my darling. I know how you feel.

On rainy days, we'll drink until the gray is left in nothing but our hair.

I know you want it, too.

I'll lay by your side 'til everything is rotten through.

Tonight, we'll celebrate life! Eat the best food and drink the best wine.

I hope your husband dies.

Are you feeling upside down or even empty inside?

Meet me down by the bar. We'll go and take this drink out to the stars.

Death is just one moment.

Some people follow rules, some people go around.

As an elephant, I'm only really relevant when I'm standing in the room.

I am the son of an asshole.

No one deserves my world quite like you do.

I'm not so much afraid of being alone, just kind of feel I've had enough.

God knows I'll do what I need.

These hands are stronger than you're led to believe.

We'll never have a house to decorate, a place that we can call our home.

If I can't have you, nobody will.

There's only one thing in this life that makes us living.

I want to be where all the stupid shit I say sounds so romantic and true.

Live with me in this sin forever.

There's nothing left to lose, 'cuz I've already lost it all.

Tonight, I'll follow you home and start up a fire that'll keep us both warm.

Hang around, let down your hair.

So you should start to undress and just… try a little less.

Now you're with this asshole- you expect me to believe it's gonna last?

Let me have this dance with you.

Your eyes look like diamonds still stuck inside the mines.

When your tongue is putrid and your skin is sagging down, I'll stick around.

It's true, I hate everything but you.

We'll laugh a little, drink a little, see what you're made of.

All the bridges in the world won't lead you back to fix what couldn't be erased.

This fairytale just ain't coming true.

I'll drive my car like I stole it, drink at the bar like I own it.

These wrinkles are the maps of all the places we went no one else would dare.

I'd rather have a reason I should stay.

There's always gonna be a better high, and a lower down.

We take things a little far, but you couldn't name a place I wouldn't go with you.

I'm capable of making you disappear.

I have a couple different faces if you need a place to hide.

The time we spent together when the light was out became my thought of you.

I am the agent that decides your fate.

There's only one kind of people in the world: people who die!

It doesn't matter what you've heard or if you're good or bad and everything between.

I love the shitty things we do together.

It's been a while since I've held anything as close as I have you.

I'd like to live my life just like a dog. Humble as can be and unconditional in everything I love.

I'll make you famous one way or another.

Home is the last place that I'd stand to be with anyone but you.

I'd crawl in bed with you. Even in someone else's blood, on top of someone else's love, in the worst motel we find.

This life is a maze with only one way out.

Every dime spent is worth looking good- and that's Hollywood!

They'll write about our story here for years to come and maybe even more, cuz there's never been a love like this before.

I'll cut to the chase, just don't try to leave.

Trust me, I'm not jealous, I'm just hoping that he really messes up.

When I had you near me I just couldn't think of anything to say, but now that I'm alone, I got the perfect things to tell you everyday.

We'll leave the world the way dreamers do.

All the parties we can throw - we'll dress like anything we please!

All the distance that we've spent apart will never have to mean a thing. Every mile I traveled was to find the perfect stone to fit your ring.

Living in the moment's hard when everything I want is in the past.

When the night falls, out comes the terror.

Your heart will always have a place to live with nothing left to be.