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cherrychilli · 2 days

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18+ Perv! Steve Harrington x Perv! reader, F reader, friends to lovers, scent kink, reader being a bit of a creep but Steve's into it because duh, masturbation (f) sexual acts in public, mentions of and allusions to oral sex (f)

WC: 5K

A/N: I was going to split this into two parts but fuck it. Two for one special. Still feeling rusty when it comes to writing so go easy on me, yeah? Also, this one's kind of gross at times. Just a little bit. Nothing extreme but just letting you know incase you're someone who gets squeamish easily. Enjoy!

The hair? sure. Everyone liked his hair.

People usually fell into two camps when it came to Steve Harrington's signature do; either they envied it or they hoped to be one of the lucky ones who got to run their fingers through it.

You used to daydream about the latter when you only knew him from afar but now that he no longer ran with a particular kind of crowd, now that he's just Steve and no longer the King, you managed to get close enough to find out that he smelled nice too.

Really nice.

So, figuring out that he used women's shampoo shouldn't have been the revelation that it was because it made so much sense, his tresses never scented with a wintry pine or spicy cedarwood like most scent profiles marketed to men.

You had your friends to thank for your stumbling upon that discovery, the group of them arriving at your home to bully you out of your PJ's and into a pair of jeans and shoes, uprooting you from your room on a Saturday afternoon for an outing to the fancy part of the mall.

While they searched for new make-up, you wandered a section of the store by yourself, uncapping the pretty bottles in the hair care aisle whenever the sales assistants' attention wandered elsewhere, squeezing each one carefully to sample the array of scents. You did this idly and with no real plans to purchase anything, just something to pass the time while your friends crowded another display a few aisles away, chattering blissfully and swatching lipsticks.

Picking up a fifth shampoo from the lineup of bottles, you brought the uncapped rim up to your face, lightly skimming your cupids bow with it as you gently inhaled. While fun, you'd spent most of your time at the mall feeling a little bored, a small part of you still desiring to go back home where you could lounge and laze in peace. That was until you began to recognize the scent of the newest shampoo you had clutched in your hand, the familiarity of it triggering a whirlpool of memories.

In seconds, your mind plunged back to the night of Jack Sullivan's graduation party. The first time Steve Harrington had spoken to you – really spoken to you since he’d parted ways with Carol and Tommy, seeming much more approachable than he had in the past.

The two of you had ended up sharing the patio swing outside where the air wasn't as thick with smoke and the smell of spilled booze. Making conversation, he offered you a beer he'd originally intended to give Robin before she'd slipped away into one of the guest bathrooms with your best friend Sally. You both knew why, sharing a look of understanding but never mentioning the obvious out loud out of loyalty to your friends.

Then there was the only day it rained in July, remembering the way your fingers brushed against his as you handed him your umbrella. You'd discovered him taking refuge under the awning of the diner you worked at that morning, face twisted all worrisome as he looked up from his wristwatch to the downpour in front of him, forced into walking to work that day due to his car still being in the shop. The only light that shone that day was the gleaming smile he gave you when he thanked you for your kindness.

And then there was the time when you had your head down while scanning a tape at Family Video, bumping face first into Steve's chest when you rounded the corner, his name tag catching on your bottom lip. It was the tiniest sliver of a cut, barely noticeable or painful but oh, how he fussed over you like you were made of porcelain. He’d gone so far as to sit you down on his chair behind the counter as if you might collapse from blood loss at any moment, whizzing into the break room and back with a fist full of napkins to dab the miniscule wound that had already stopped bleeding.

All of those memories and more linked by one scent. This scent.

With your pupils dilating like a cat prepared to pounce, you flipped the bottle over to read the contents.

White frangipani blossoms, toasted coconut, bergamot waters, sea salt breeze and sunkissed musk.

Steve Harrington in a bottle. And the quickest 16 dollars you've ever spent.

And with that purchase came the self-imposed reminder to exercise caution. Upon leaving the mall with your friends, your mood much chipper than when you'd arrived, you made sure to hardly ever use the shampoo when you bathed, afraid that if Steve smelled it on you later, somehow, he'd be able to put the pieces together and know why you'd bought it, even as wildly unlikely as that seemed.

So instead, you huffed the bottle in private on most days, only using it when you knew you'd be spending the day at home. On those eagerly awaited days you luxuriated in the scent as you applied the shampoo in your shower, mind and fingers wandering, working your peaked nipples and your firm clit up to the thought of Steve joining you in your shower and fucking you dumb – tits pressed up against the cold, wet tiles, ass bouncing on his hips as he stretched you open and used you well.

But now that you'd discovered this new kind of hunger you had to make sure to keep it well fed and when the shampoo didn't feel like enough anymore, you set out to purchase his cologne.

The scent was one you had memorized from all of your trips to the video store, hanging around the counter while Steve talked to you about which movie you ought to rent next. You could smell it on his neck whenever he leaned in close on his elbows, face inches away from yours, wishing he'd close the distance and meet your lips with his.

Another trip to the mall had you scouring the men's section like a wolf tracking the scent of injured prey, sampling bottle after bottle of cologne until you found it.

Aromatic sage, dark tonka bean and rich sandalwood. Priced at a cool $39.50 which you gladly forked over because to you, it was all money well spent.

The cologne became part of your nightly routine after that, dabbing drops of the heady scent on your body when you went to bed, the smell making your arousal climb before lulling you to sleep an orgasm later, evoking dreams of Steve throughout the night that made you wake up to your panties all damp and sticking to your core by morning.

You were content that way, the shampoo and the cologne enough to satiate your fixation on the way Steve smelled all while managing to maintain your friendship with him without things becoming weird.

What ended up shattering that peace however was running into him a few weeks later coming out of the Y, just done with a game of basketball as he spotted you passing by and happily waved you down.

He smiled at you just as brightly as he had all those months ago in July, this time dressed in his gym clothes; a pair of green shorts that showed off the thickness of his toned, hairy thighs and a grey t-shirt, the sleeves filled out well by his tanned biceps and its collar darkened by sweat.

Up close, you could smell the exertion on him and that was what became your undoing.

It took every iota of self-control not to rush him to the ground and pin him beneath you, feeling more and more like a caged animal the longer the conversation went on and you were forced to compose yourself.

It was the kind of scent you wanted to sink into, more so than the cologne or the shampoo because this was Steve completely unadulterated – that earthy musk, that rugged, almost spicy all-natural scent that you wouldn't be able to find on any shelf.

Barely managing to hold it together until parting ways with him, you knew you wouldn't be able to rest without it, mind already working to devise a plan.

"Risve- what?"

You chuckled as the word died on Steve's tongue, knowing he'd trip up on the pronunciation. Reaching for a pen and a scrap of paper sitting on the counter, you wrote the word down for him. "Risvegli. It's Italian", you explain, handing it to him as you do your best to repress the shiver that runs through you when his slender fingers graze yours, trying hard to quieten your mind after all the ways you’ve imagined those very fingers touching you in your most sensitive places.

"It's kind of an obscure flick but I like that sort of stuff. D'you think you could have a look and see if you've got a copy in the back?", you try not to bat your lashes too much when you ask, not wanting to overplay the sweetness to the point that it comes off as insincere or worse, suspicious.

Steve looks down to study the paper, cheeks dusted a pretty pink, you can’t help but notice. The ends of his hair are still damp from his shower at the Y, just as you expected now that you knew which days he spent there before clocking in for work.

"For you? Definitely", he looked back up and smiled at you in that way that made your heart somersault. "Be right back". He leaves you alone at the counter and you make sure to wait for him to disappear out of sight into the back, stamping down a flash of guilt for having sent him off to search for a movie that didn't exist to buy you time.

You'd planned it all last night, stepping away from the counter before heading towards the employee break room, able to sneak in without fear of running into Robin because you knew she'd be spending the day with Sally on her day off from working at the diner.

Steve’s duffle bag is in plain view as you shut the door to the little room behind you quietly, resting on a chair that'd been pulled out from the table where you imagined he probably shared his lunch breaks with Robin.

Striding up to it, you find the zipper and tentatively, you pull it open to reveal the contents. What you're looking for is balled up at the very top, picking up the sweat damp t-shirt with clammy, trembling fingers. You're really crossing a line this time and you know it, your teeth close to piercing the soft skin of your bottom lip as you bite down on it but you can't deny that there's just something so exhilarating about the whole thing too. The lying, the sneaking around, the risk – it's all a little too much and your mind grows foggy with it, dulling your once sharp intuition and giving way to a moment of weakness that has you abandoning caution now that you're alone.

Waiting to do indulge your urges until you're safe at home feels impossible now that you've got your hands on it, eagerly pressing your nose into the damp t-shirt, eyes nearly rolling back as you filled your lungs with the smell of him. It must have been the pheromones, it had to be, awakening that primal kind of desire in you that had you parting your lips and pressing the tip of your tongue to one of the sweat stains, sucking on the sour, salty musk that had soaked into the cotton.

What you're doing is so dirty, damn near repulsive and knowing that just fuels you even more as you begin to salivate. You're too wrapped up in the earthy scent of him, too lost in the taste to notice when the door handle jiggles behind you, too drunk on the sick thought of what Steve’s used boxers must smell like if you were to pull those out of his duffle next when all of a sudden, it's too late.

The door to the break room swings open and in walks Steve, the world screeching to a sickening standstill when his eyes fall on you.

Your own eyes bulging, you watch in mute horror as he takes in the sight before him, the scrap of paper you'd handed him earlier slipping from between his thumb and forefinger, fluttering to the floor like the wings of a dying butterfly.

It's impossible to know what he's thinking. Is it disgust? if so, he hid it well. Bewilderment? You weren't sure. Ice crackles over your bones as the two of you stare for a few seconds longer, Steve's expression still unreadable.

The whole thing's all the more uncomfortable because of the way he continues to watch you like you’re something to be studied, looking contemplative as you trembled in place, wishing for the ground to break open beneath your feet and swallow you away into a never-ending crevasse.

But as the seconds tick by and the ground stays perfectly intact you're left to seek your own respite.

Despite what feels like the blood retreating from your veins, your body shifts into auto pilot as you wordlessly place the rumpled t-shirt back in Steve's duffel and do the only thing you can do in a fucked up situation like this – walk away. Even as he tries to call after you, you ignore his shouts, continuing on a path towards and out the exit, mortified.

You don't go back to Family Video after that. In fact, you avoid that entire street for a whole week.

The days following being caught out by Steve were some of the worst you've had to endure. Shame made a home in your body, making you ache with a belly full of thorns and your thoughts growing increasingly heavy and abrasive as they flood your throbbing head.

For those seven days you carried around the dread of knowing that Steve had discovered that secret side of you, the feeling worsening at the thought of him telling others what he had seen and rendering you some kind of town pariah – even though a tiny, hopeful whisper inside your raucous head told you that he probably hadn't said anything, at least not yet since Sally hadn't even seemed to have gotten word of the incident from Robin.

But that's all it was. A tiny, fleeting whisper that did nothing to calm you.

At home, you buried yourself in your blankets, letting your anxieties exhaust you to sleep and at work you moved as if you were fighting your way through thick slurry – slow and dragging your body from table to table, unsmiling as you took patrons' meal orders and served them their food.

You continued like that all throughout your shift, waiting for the moment you could peel your polyester uniform off in favour of your own clothes and drive yourself home. With only 30 minutes left before closing, your shoulders which had been pulled tight all day with tension began to sag, a momentary wash of relief coursing through you. That was until you smelled it – smelled him.

Whipping around, your stomach plummets when your eyes fall on Steve walking through the door – and to make things worse, he’s carrying that duffle on his shoulder.

He's yet to have spotted you, taking a seat at one of the empty booths though you notice the way his eyes are scanning the diner, searching.

It's obvious that you’re the one he’s looking for as worry courses down your spine like a lightning strike. Was he going to confront you? right here? in front of all these people? Normally you wouldn’t peg Steve as someone who’d do something so cruel but after what he’d caught you doing, a little public humiliation doesn’t seem all that undeserved, you had to admit.

So, carefully you retreat into the breakroom without drawing his attention, pulling a perplexed Sally along with you once you'd caught hold of her by her elbow.

Once safely inside, you all but blubber in her face, begging her to wait on Steve's table, even promising her all your tips for the next week in exchange.

Seeing the distress contorting your face must have made her feel sorry for you because she pulls you in for a quick, tight hug, running her hand up and down your back in an attempt to calm you. You'd only given her little snippets of what had happened at the video store, making sure to alter a few details for the sake of concealing how far you’d actually gone that day. To her, the gist of it was that you'd embarrassed yourself horribly and that was all she really needed to know, springing into action as the compassionate best friend to the rescue.

"I've got it, okay? just breathe", she'd repeated soothingly into your hair, giving you a quick squeeze and her best reassuring smile before you reluctantly unwind your hands from around her, allowing her to step out of the break room ahead of you.

Outside again, thirty minutes drag on like hours while you purposely stick to the part of the diner that's furthest away from Steve's table. You don't dare look at him but you do sneak a glance when Sally walks by with his order, a single black coffee and nothing else which he sips leisurely while you tremble.

If his plan was to confront you then what the hell was he waiting for? There was nothing stopping him from walking up to you while sweat collects between your shoulder blades as you clear the tables of customers who’ve settled their bill and since left. Nothing to prevent him from stepping up to the counter while you nervously rubbed the surface of it free of crumbs and stains to demand an explanation for your bizarre behavior last week. Nothing to stop him from simply walking up to you at any moment and ask to know what the fuck your deal was.

But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he finishes his coffee and casually waves down Sally for the bill while smiling politely. Somehow that causes you even more unease.

In that moment you lose sight of Steve when you’re called over to serve the only other table of customers left, a family of five keen to fit in one last round of milkshakes before they call an end to their meal.

You see to their order despite your shaking limbs, returning with a tray crowded with the cold, sweet drinks, setting each one down carefully in front of the smiling children and their parents before you head back behind the counter with your tray clutched close to your chest. The whole thing must have taken you ten minutes and when you sneak one more look in Steve’s direction you find his booth empty this time.

Eyes frantically searching the diner, you manage to catch a final glimpse of him walking out the front door, bell chiming above him as he departs, leaving the diner and you with even more questions than you had when he'd first arrived.

Had Steve changed his mind? Had he just wanted to make you sweat for the hell of it? Taken pleasure in watching you try to keep it together in his presence while you traipsed around the diner all too carefully like a petrified newborn deer?

Why had he shown up at all today if he wasn’t going to...do anything?

You get your answer fifteen minutes later when wearily, you trudge into the staff room at the end of your shift, pulling open your locker and all but fainting at the sight of what’s been placed inside beside your belongings.

Neatly folded inside is Steve's grey t-shirt, the same one you'd tried unsuccessfully to "borrow" last week The scent of him is instantly recognizable as you inhale shakily, fingers reaching out to touch the slightly damp cotton to confirm to yourself that you weren’t in fact hallucinating the whole thing.

When your pulse starts to settle and the static crackling in your ears starts to cease you notice a little scrap of folded paper placed inside too. Picking it up and pulling it open, it's with a deep, dreamy sigh that your chest blooms with sunny warmth as you read the note, a smile gracing your lips for the first time in a week.

Three months later...

The only good thing about working the graveyard shift at the diner was that Steve always insisted on coming in an hour before you clocked out so he could drive you home.

Occupying one of the booths inside the sleepy diner, he'd keep himself busy with his phone while you worked, perking up whenever you came by to freshen up his coffee or sneak him a piece of pie he hadn't ordered with all his favorite fixings.

It was during those moments that he liked to have a little fun with you, quickly surveying the room to make sure no customers or staff were looking over in your direction before he'd slip his fingers under your skirt and pinch your ass. Sometimes you'd see it coming and other times he'd catch you off guard, cruel delight curling his lips into a smirk whenever you had to stifle your surprised squeals.

And that's as far as he usually took, patiently waiting until he could get you in his car for more but today felt different.

With no new customers coming in in the last two hours, Sally had taken to the break room to work in a nap while the kitchen staff had stepped out back to smoke and deal cards to pass the time. That left just you working the front with Steve as the diner's only patron.

Having no one else around meant you could flirt freely with him now, making sure to look over your shoulder every now and then just incase to make sure you didn't get caught.

You spent that time alone together with his boot gently tapping against your shoe under the table, reaching out and fiddling with his fingers because you always liked to be touching him while you happily teased each other as the minutes passed by.

Somewhere in the middle of your playful banter you noticed Steve's cup was now empty, picking yourself up from the booth to bring over more coffee. As you leaned over the edge of the table to pour, you anticipated the glide of his fingers on your thigh, inching up your skirt to situate them between your legs.

"You're going to get me fired one of these days", you chide him, still holding on to the pot of coffee once you'd finished refilling his cup.

"Good – then I can have you all to myself", he teased back, index finger drawing patterns on your inner thigh, just a few inches below the lacy trim of your panties.

"Steve", you attempt to scold but there's barely any heat there for him to take it seriously, fingers daring to trail higher.

Meeting his heavy gaze, you watch him search your eyes for a moment, the soft smirk that had been tugging at the corner of his lips slowly fading away as something more serious clouds his expression when he leans forward to whisper to you.

"No one's around, baby. Please? Can I?"

It takes you a second before you know exactly what he's asking for without needing him to specify, heat rising up from the depths of your chest and gathering in your cheeks.

He's got that look in his eyes too and you know that this is what it must have looked like the day he caught you with your face buried in his sweaty t-shirt. That feverish glint of potent want making his iris' gleam.

"Steve, it's too risky", you try to reason quietly despite the way your thighs are already parting for him, allowing him to skim the pads of his fingers over the seat of your panties, teasing your waiting folds through the thin later of fabric.

"Never stopped you before", he's quick to reply with wink, making you grow warmer at the reminder.

He's got you beat there.

"I promise I'll be quick", he pleads again softly and it's almost comical how quickly you buckle under the weight of his needy gaze.

"Shit, okay", you concede as you step closer to the edge of the booth and he pulls himself closer too, hand moving higher to cup your ass under your skirt.

You sigh contently when Steve leans forward and presses his nose against the front of your uniform, right over the juncture between your legs. You're careful to keep your grip tight on the handle of the coffee pot you're still carrying when he takes in a deep breath, inhaling your scent right through your clothes.

Steve liked to joke that you brought out this side of him, the one that made the both of you realize how alike you really were.

It started with the way he liked to linger between your legs after he'd finished eating you out. Your ruined panties spilled out of his back pocket, never to be returned to you as he took his time pressing sweet kisses against your swollen folds and spent clit with his sticky lips, clearly pleased with himself as you fought to catch your breath from the orgasm that'd rippled through you.

And as things progressed, he wasn't secretive about wanting to fuck you so hard and often that the smell of you would linger in the air long after you were done. Or how he liked to nestle his nose in the curls on your mound once he'd finished laving at your pussy – the moreish combination of sweat, saliva and your natural musk making his twitching cock stiffen all over again as he rut into the mattress for a second time, painting his sticky boxers with another generous load.

Other times he'd get on his knees for you, pulling you close by your hips so he could place his face against your clothed cunt and mumble dreamy praises about how good your pussy smelled. And you always loved it when he got like that, even now as your free hand strokes lazily through his caramel hair, letting him do this to you in the middle of your place of work, your coworkers unaware but not far away enough that they couldn't walk in at any moment and find the two of you like this.

"Stevie", you whined softly as you tried to get his attention, a reluctant reminder that the two of you should probably stop before it's too late.

"Jus' a little more, please? need it to tide me over before I can get you alone". His eyes are all glazed over when he looks up at you, tentatively slipping his other hand up the front of your thigh to hitch up the hem of your skirt ever so slightly, his gaze all pleading as he waits for your permission.

With the way he's managed to work you up, your panties more that a little tacky from his attention and your belly tightening with warmth, how could you possibly refuse when you needed this just as badly as he did?

"Fuck. Yes, okay – just be careful", you urge gently because 'be quick' doesn't seem likely anymore.

A look of pure bliss breaks out on his reddening face. "Christ. Thank you, baby", Steve groans appreciatively, pushing your skirt up to expose your panties before burying his face against your clothed mound. He can feel the outline of your cunt perfectly when he's this close – so soft and plump, his mounting greed has him battling the urge to pull the soaked cotton down to your knees and start sucking the tangy slick from your pretty, swollen pussy lips before pressing deeper to lick at your tight hole and all it has to offer.

Restraining himself, he lets out a muffled moan against your core that has your clit swelling and throbbing, your eyes slipping shut while you give yourself to him. It's almost soothing the way he savors you so shamelessly, head partially ducked underneath your rucked up skirt, fingers gently squeezing your ass with his blunt nails making light indents in your skin.

You let him breathe you in for a while longer until you begin to feel a little floaty and more than a little needy from it all, expecting Steve to pull away soon because how much longer could you get away with doing this in public? Stopping him isn't what you want, not really but you knew better than to push your luck by now.

But instead of him reluctantly withdrawing away from you, what you feel next is the wet drag of his tongue along your messy panties, warm, firm and sudden.

Although definitely not unwelcome, under the circumstances, the feeling of it startles you and you can't help but cry out with a yelp, arm jerking backwards as a splash of coffee makes its way onto the checkered diner floor.

Hearts hammering, the both of you rip apart from each other then, Steve with his wide eyes and ruffled hair as he plasters himself to his seat while you very nearly lose what's left of your balance when your shoes skid over the wet mess of spilled coffee. You manage to catch yourself though when you grab the edge of his table with your free hand, finally placing the damn coffee pot down to hurriedly pull your skirt back into place.

Silence overtakes the room as the both of you peer wordlessly in the direction of the kitchen and breakroom, waiting to see if you'd accidentally drawn the attention of any nearby diner staff.

Seconds turn into a minute and when no one comes through either of the doors you allow yourself to sigh out in relief, turning back to Steve.

"Shit. I'm sorry I couldn't help it – had to taste you, honey. You just – fuck, you just smell so fucking good. I needed a little more", he tries to explain when your eyes connect, his cheeks sheened with a thin layer of perspiration and flushed a deep pink.

You were foolish to think you could let him do all of that and endure waiting until the end of your shift to take things further in his car. Leaving him with his lips parted and his jaw slack, you stride away to the diner's entrance to quickly flip the 'open' sign over to read 'closed', rushing back to tug Steve up and out of his seat urgently, grinning when you catch sight of the stiff bulge straining in his jeans.

"Supply closet. Now. Need you to put that mouth of yours to good use."

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

612 notes · View notes

aventvrines · 3 days

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second best ; sae itoshi x f!reader PART 1

note: got to 10k words and decided to cut it in half<3

wc ; 8.8k | content ; slow burn..? swearing, tension, angst, situationship, kissing, making out, crying, more angst, lots of timeskips, not proofread, reader has a huge crush on sae bc tbh who wouldn't, sae is rich, cringe cliche tropes i'm sorry, english isn't my first language, two parter?, no prns but reader wears a dress, ooc, reader and sae both have rich and absentt

summary ; growing up with sae itoshi isn't quite what you'd expect

Sae Itoshi isn’t exactly sure when he first meets you – there are no formal introductions or anything of that sort. One day, you enter his life, and you never really bother to leave after. He’s kind of the same for you, appearing all of a sudden – your parents’ friends’ kid, a neighbor of yours – and never disappearing afterwards. As unlikely as it sounds, you’re probably one of his oldest friends – his first friend, as a matter of fact. [Not including Rin, that is. And not including the fact that he doesn’t really see anyone as friends, either.] Coincidentally, you’re also his first kiss.

It’s another one of those things he’s not quite sure about; he doesn’t know how it happened or why, exactly. All he remembers is that he’s twelve, and you’re sulking on the swings next to him at the park, refusing to talk. He doesn’t really care, but you huff so obnoxiously, for so long that he’s forced to take the bait. Only because he feels a little bad for you, though.

“What’s up?”

You perk up ever so slightly at the sound of his voice. It’s a small movement, one that only he sees, because playing soccer has already significantly honed his senses, and because he’s known you for the past seven years. You’re still upset, though, judging from the stupid pout on your face. The one that annoys him to the core, for some reason, even though he doesn’t even care.

“The boys in class called me ugly,” you sigh. Sae thinks he’s too mature to worry about little things like these, but you’re still tender, and apparently it matters a lot to you. He’s not the type to lie to comfort people, and he doesn’t lie when he replies to you. It’s a simple statement, one that he doesn’t think too much of.

“You are pretty, though,” he says. He’s confused; why would the others lie to you? You’re not ugly in the slightest.

“What?”

“I said, you are pretty,” he repeats.

You shake your head.

“Not pretty like in a friends way, Sae,” you chastise him with a tilt of your head. “Like, in a, uhh–” you cut yourself off, chewing on your bottom lip thoughtfully. “Like, you’d wanna kiss me, that kinda pretty.”

“I’d kiss you.”

This time you’re surprised. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, I would.”

“Wouldn’t.”

“Would too.”

“Do it then,” you huff, confident that you’ve won the argument.

“Okay,” Sae replies, flat and emotionless. He slides off his swing, making his way towards yours. You stop swinging yourself, confused, and he grabs the ropes on either side of your swing, forcing its final halfhearted sways to an end. “So? Wanna kiss?”

It seems that you’ve finally realized he’s serious. “Oh…”

“Well? Don’t waste my time,” he grumbles, but there’s no actual malice behind his words. He thinks you know him well enough to know that, and you do, because then you’re getting off your swing too, and there’s a tense, awkward moment before you lean in, and then–

It’s nothing like you’d imagined; there are no fireworks, and there’s no cheesy romance music in the background either. But the feeling of Sae’s lips on yours are terrifyingly real. But then he pulls back abruptly, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and looks you up and down quizzically. “Happy now?”

You seem unsure of what to say, and he doesn’t push it. Instead, he turns around, ready to leave. “I’ve got soccer practice later,” he announces. “I gotta go.”

Sae doesn’t need to see your face to know how it falls, disappointed. He doesn’t look back as he walks away, because even at this young age, he knows how to pick his battles. And he doesn’t really care about you all that much, but he still doesn’t like it when you’re sad.

“Bye,” you mutter, barely loud enough for him to hear.

He doesn’t bring up the kiss the next day. Or the day after. Or after that. It’s like it never even happened. And if he were anyone, anyone else, you would’ve worried – even a little bit, because you’ve read those cute tween romance books that your best friend lends you – about how the friendship would work after this; but he’s Sae, and Sae doesn’t have friends. You’ve heard the whole spiel before – how he doesn’t care for friends, how he has Rin if he needs company, how soccer is always, always, always his first priority – and even though he’s basically told you that you aren’t friends, he’s never told you to leave either. So it’s not like he doesn’t like you, right?

But then again, it’s kinda changed everything for you. Because suddenly, Sae is no longer just Sae. It’s as if something in your brain finally clicks, and you realize that Sae is a boy too. It’s as if you’ve always seen him as an extension of your girlfriends, but now it’s different. So, so different. For the first time, you look at him like he’s one of the cute boys in class – because he is.

And unbeknownst to you, Sae notices. He sees the way you stare at him unabashedly when you think he’s not looking, how your movements suddenly become more calculated around him. Suddenly, you’ve stopped speaking your mind around him, started caring more about your appearance instead. You’re more conscious of your words and actions, and you keep applying and reapplying the strawberry lipgloss that’s always on your person The regular afternoons at the swing set in the park before practice have turned into hanging out maybe once a fortnight; instead of bugging him to hang out, you now shyly wave goodbye at him after school, and he watches you run over to your friends. You all giggle and push each other around, and if he notices the indiscreet glances your friends throw at him, or hears one of you say his name, he makes an effort to steadfastly ignore it.

It’s already kind of pathetic, how obvious you are with your little crush on him. He tries his best to ignore it, even when your entire face burns red when he throws you a ghost of a smile. But sometimes, even he finds it hard to resist teasing you. He deserves it, right? In his mind, he does. If you’re going to pine over him like this, might as well mess with you at least once while you do so.

It’s a week before your thirteenth birthday – he’s already turned thirteen by then – when he looks at you, feigning curiosity. “Y/n?”

You look at him, startled. “Yeah?”

“What happened to that guy you used to like, what was his name again-”

“N-nothing!” you stammer, interrupting him. “I don’t like anyone, I mean him, anymore!”

Sae’s lips quirk up momentarily; he shakes his head and walks away as you blush and babble incoherently, hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

You’re actually kinda cute.

Kinda.

He doesn’t know why it feels this good to have you indirectly confirm that you like him.

Thirteen passes by so fast, but it leaves you dealing with so many changes too.

There are no more afternoons spent at the swing set in the park.

At fourteen, you stop focusing on yourself for long enough to notice that Sae is changing too. He’s suddenly much taller than you, voice beginning to get deeper. He lets his reddish-brown hair grow out so it frames his face – somewhat unevenly, but it’s still pretty. He’s started to spend more time at soccer practice, and it shows. Like, physically. The muscles in his arms and legs have started to become more defined, and the number of girls who are into him have therefore increased drastically. It irks you. And then he actually starts dating, and it pisses you off even more, because 1) since you’ve basically grown up together, he’ll never see you as anything more than a friend, and 2) girls are basically lining up to date him, even when all the relationships he’s been in so far barely last a month, and his personality is ass, and he always prioritizes soccer more.

He doesn’t deserve it just because he’s pretty.

You don’t really understand why they do it; you’ve been pining for him silently for almost two years, and even though you fantasize him liking you back, and marrying you in the future, you know you probably wouldn’t do anything with him, not right now, not when he’s like this. You hope that if anything happens with him, you’ll be sensible enough to not pursue it. And you even miss just being friends with him – now that he’s busy with soccer, and teaching Rin, and girls, he doesn’t have any time for anything else. Anything else being you, in this case.

You barely talk to him anymore, and it’s not like he makes any effort either.

You miss him.

Sae doesn’t take all these relationships seriously at all; he’s fifteen, and no one really falls in love at fifteen, right? Besides, it’s not like any of these girls want him for anything other than his looks and money. They’re pretty, sure, and it’s fun sneaking around and having someone cheer for him at his soccer matches is nice, but he doesn’t really care for it in the end.

Freshman prom takes place when you’re almost sixteen. You’re one of those few people who doesn’t have a date; you’ve never dated anyone and quite frankly, you’re contemplating whether you should go at all. Maybe you won’t waste money on a dress and makeup and just stay home instead – it won’t be worth it to go alone and face the awkwardness of not having someone with you. All your friends have dates, so you’ll basically be alone anyways, and you don’t want them to give anything up for you – you know they would.

You’re thinking of all this while stranded on one of the higher seats on the bleachers; your friend Asa’s boyfriend is at soccer practice, and she’s brought you with her to watch. You’re not very interested in whatever they’re doing down there, but Asa appears to be, since she’s left you up here alone to go down to talk to her boyfriend. You look up momentarily, not expecting to see anything interesting, but then you catch sight of a familiar number on the back of a jersey – number 10. Despite not wanting to give in to his effortless allure, you can’t help but drag your eyes down the vast expanse of his broad back, down to where it tapers off into a surprisingly small waist, and then his toned legs. If he’s like this at sixteen, you can’t even imagine what he’ll look like when he’s older.

And then he turns around. And your eyes meet. He smirks at you, as if he knows you’ve been staring. You tear your eyes away from his mesmerizing teal ones, trying to focus on the math book that’s perched precariously on your lap. A moment later, you glance up again, thinking he’s moved to some other part of the field, but instead he’s approaching the bleachers, specifically in your direction. You panic for a second – maybe he’s just going to talk to someone else down there, you tell yourself, trying to calm down. But then he starts climbing the steps, one by one, until he stops at your level. Please walk past me, please walk past me, please–

He sits down on the seat next to yours. You keep your gaze fixed firmly on the notebook, refusing to acknowledge his existence until he acknowledges yours.

“You got a date?”

“Huh?” your brain doesn’t register the question before your answer flies out of your mouth. “What?”

Sae sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. Even now, sweaty and tired and annoyed, he looks absolutely gorgeous. “Prom, you have a date?”

“Actually I’m thinking of not going at all,” you admit sheepishly.

“Why not?” Sae has the audacity to actually look interested.

“It’ll be awkward,” you reply flatly. “All my friends have dates, but I don’t, so I won’t have anyone to be with, and if I tell them I’m going alone, they’ll just ditch their boyfriends to hang out with me. I don’t want that to happen.”

“Go with me, then.”

“What?”

“Be my date, to prom,” he sighs.

“Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

“Don’t you have a date? I thought girls chase you everywhere,” you scoff.

“What, you jealous?” he says, almost as if he’s musing.

“Of course not!” you lie.

“So? Is it a yes, or do I gotta find some other girl to take?”

“I don’t think you have to go looking to find one,” you reply coldly.

He snickers in response, but there’s no mirth behind it. “I’m serious. I want you to go with me.”

You’d hoped to be sensible in situations like these. Spoiler alert: you’d hoped wrong. You are, after all, only fifteen.

“What about your girlfriend, though?” you ask him later.

“We broke up.” he replies curtly. Of course they did.

You ignore the twisted glee that boils in the pits of your stomach.

Your friends are probably more excited than you when you tell them who’s taking you to prom; you try to convince them – and also yourself – that it’s nothing like that, it’s purely platonic. But you still don’t know why he chose you. You’re also not sure why you accepted. If only he wasn’t so damn pretty.

You’re not deaf – the whispers start as soon as you enter prom attached to the Sae Itoshi’s side, the corsage on your wrist matching the boutonnière on the lapel of his tuxedo. All eyes are on the two of you; the soccer prodigy and his childhood friend. But Sae is surprisingly courteous tonight. He notices your discomfort almost immediately, squeezing your hand reassuringly to calm you down.

“Ignore them,” he advises you under his breath. He’s nothing like the person you’ve known so far. Is this how he treats his girlfriends? You shrug the thought off, instead forcing yourself to smile up at him.

“I’m fine,” you murmur.

You’re not.

Sae is an excellent date; he dances with you until you’re tired, refuses to leave your side, and looks after your punch when you go to the bathroom. He seems somewhat tired, but it feels like he’s trying to hide it, so you don’t mention it. But then again, you’ve been wrapped up in your own thoughts again. Because of tonight, the emotional part of your crush on Sae has once again been reawakened – he’s no longer a piece of eye candy you stare at when you’re bored.

And then, just when you decide things can’t get any worse, they do.

“Y/n, Sae, c’mere,” calls Asa. “Let's play spin the bottle!”

You shake your head, about to refuse, but Sae grabs your hand and starts walking towards the small group that’s assembled around a glass bottle that’s half full of some dubious liquid you can’t quite identify.

“Sure,” he says. “We’ll play.”

Fuck.

The circle consists of you, Sae, Asa, her boyfriend Denji, your other friend Maki, and a bunch of other people you don’t know by name. You’re sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor of the gymnasium, and for some reason, you have a really bad feeling about this. Maki goes first, leaning forward to spin the bottle with a swift flick of her fingers. It slows down near you, moves to Sae – your breath catches in your throat as it inches past – and stops in front of Asa. She leans in, giving Maki a cursory peck on the lips before pulling back. They’re both laughing, and she leans into Denji, immediately murmuring an apology. He shakes his head, grinning. “I don’t mind, babe, I swear! But whose turn is it now?”

Everyone turns to look at you.

Shit.

You swallow nervously, reaching out to the bottle with one shaky hand. You don’t know why you’re this anxious. Taking a deep breath, you spin. It takes longer than you expect. You can hardly breathe – and then Sae bends his head towards yours, whispering, “Calm down, it’ll be fine.”

But it isn’t. Because as soon as the words exit his mouth, the bottle comes to a stop. And because the universe does everything it possibly can to fuck you over, it comes to a stop in front of Sae. You hastily shake your head. “It’s okay, we don’t have to–”

“What?” he interrupts. “You don’t wanna kiss me?”

“It’s not that,” an angry flush spreads across your cheeks, and your hands ball up into tight fists. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Make it ten seconds at least, this time!” Someone cheers, but you’re only looking at Sae. You turn towards him, and just like that, you and Sae share your second kiss together. He’s obviously much more experienced than you, tilting your head up with one hand to get a better angle. His lips are chapped, but still soft. It feels… nice. You almost wish you were dating him. But when you finally relax, almost starting to enjoy it, he pulls back. “See? It wasn’t that bad.”

You nod, flustered, still trying to compose yourself. “ Yeah, it was okay.”

“I think I’m cursed,” you complain to Asa and Maki in the girls’ toilets where you’ve taken refuge to touch up your makeup. “He was my first kiss, and my second one too. Next you’ll see him being the third one too!”

Asa giggles. “Ooh, I hope so!”

“Maybe he’s secretly in love with you, you never know,” interjects Maki, but you shake your head sadly. She rolls her eyes, closing the tube of mascara. “Stop acting like a pathetic puppy,” she chides. “It’s okayyyyy.”

You don’t answer, busy swiping the applicator of your lipgloss across your lips.

“Um, I think I gotta pee, you guys go back without me,” you say. Your voice is too loud, too high-pitched. It’s obvious that you have other reasons for wanting to come out later. There’s an awkward silence, and you’re not quite sure what to expect. Will they refuse and Call you out? Anxiety bubbles up inside you. But Asa and Maki are your best friends, after all. You can see in their eyes that they don’t buy it at all – they pretend to, though, and leave you alone in the restrooms to rot alone with your thoughts.

When you finally get the guts to exit the toilet, you find yourself standing behind Asa. She’s asking Sae how much longer the two of you will be staying, and hasn’t seemed to notice you behind her yet. Sae does, though, raising one perfect brow ever so slightly. Asa continues talking, unaware of the silent conversation going on between the two of you. Sae tilts his head to one side, as if asking a question; you shake your head vehemently in return, hoping he understands what you’re trying to convey.

“We’ll get going as soon as y/n comes back,” says Sae. You breathe a sigh of relief; how could you possibly have doubted him? He’s known you since you were what, five years old – longer than anyone else in the room, even Maki and Asa.

“But it’s barely eight,” Asa argues, but he shakes his head.

“Her parents said eight thirty tops,” he shrugs. Sae is an impeccable liar. Before Asa can say anything else, you interrupt them.

“ Sae, we gotta go.”

“Yeah,” he says. “See? Later, Asa.”

“Bye Asa!”

She waves goodbye as the two of you leave the gym.

The school looks completely different at night, dimly lit with countless locked doors on either side of you, and it doesn’t take long for the two of you to get lost. Sae watches you standing uneasily by a window, face lit up almost ethereally by the moonlight that’s streaming in. You don’t notice him staring as you gaze distractedly out of the window silently. You really are pretty.

He doesn’t realize when he walks over to stand beside you wordlessly. You tear your eyes away from the world outside and turn to him. “You need anything?”

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

His voice is lower than usual, barely above a whisper, and suddenly the air is thick with tension. He hears you breathe in, sharp and fast, as your gaze flickers from his eyes, to his lips, then back to his eyes again. He can’t blame you, not when he’s doing the same thing. Sae takes a single carefully calculated step forward, and before he can move another muscle, you step forward too, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and pulling him down to kiss him. He’s startled at your boldness – he hadn’t expected you to initiate anything – but it’s a nice surprise. It takes a moment for him to regain his senses before he kisses you back with equal fervor, large hands coming up to cradle your face. He feels you sigh softly into his mouth, fists tightening around the fabric of his jacket. What had Asa mentioned again– oh. So this is your first real kiss – not one that’s part of a game, not one that’s being used to just prove a point. Your stupid strawberry lipgloss smears across your mouth and his, and it tastes good, and you taste good, and so what if a tiny part of him doesn’t want this to ever end?

But then the two of you separate, and you’re probably the most beautiful girl he’s seen in his entire life. You’re panting slightly from the lack of oxygen, chest heaving gently. Your lips are parted a little, slick with a mix of lipgloss and saliva, and you’re watching him with widened eyes. He’s not sure what to do now, but suddenly you take a step back, and then another, and another. You shake your head. “This was a mistake, Sae. I’m not gonna become another one of your disposable girlfriends.”

Sae doesn’t know what to say. In fact, he doesn’t even have anything to say at all. No excuses, no defenses. You are probably right after all. Though he may be an expert at starting relationships, he certainly fails to keep them alive – not that he cares to, in the first place. And soccer is always more important anyways. So he stays silent, watching you hurry away into the dark.

He hopes you won’t get lost this time.

School starts a week later, a day after your sixteenth birthday. You’re almost relieved to see that Sae has gone back to ignoring you. [he hasn’t wished you a happy birthday.] You play it off to your friends as him just being busy again, but you know that’s not true. And he already has another girl hanging off his arm again, and although you’re unsurprised, it still hurts after that night, when he’d kissed you like you actually meant something to him. You know you don’t, though. Not in the way other things matter to him – soccer, for example. Or getting girls.

It’s painful to even look at him now; it’s annoying how fast your views of him have changed. It also doesn’t help that he glances towards you every now and then. Whatever, you think. Fuck him. You need to focus on your classwork instead. Or more specifically, the project that’ll make up a significant portion of your grade and act as a replacement for your finals. Unfortunately for you, it’s a partnered project, meaning you won’t be able to work as efficiently – you’re in your element when you’re working alone. Half the class has already been paired up by the time your name is called. You scan the remaining people for Asa or Maki, hoping you get one of them as a partner, but your peace is shattered as your teacher calls out a name that you’ve grown to dislike, no, fear over the past week. “Sae Itoshi!”

Sae’s face is painfully neutral, betraying absolutely no emotion. You don’t know whether he even cares about this – he probably doesn’t – but it’s still an important project, so all you can do is suck it up and work. He walks up to you, face still annoyingly blank. “You have my number, right?”

What happened to hello? How are you? You nod anyways, unsure of what he wants.

“Call me then,” he says flatly. “I’ll do whatever as long as you arrange the time and place.”

What a bitch. You want to slap him.

“Okay.”

It’s not okay.

Every time you’re even near him, all you can think of is his lips on yours; the feel of his hands on your waist, your face. You don’t want anything to do with him, let alone spend the next two weeks working on this stupid project with him.

That night, you scream at yourself in the mirror. Why can’t you just be normal? These things happen, it’s not a big deal. You spend half an hour pacing around the bathroom, raving to yourself like a madman. It takes another hour before you calm down enough to be able to text him.

You: hey

You: this is y/n btw

Sae: ok

You: you told me to arrange everything

Sae: yea

You: i’m free tmr after school. At like 3

Sae: i have practice

You: dude skip out on practice once nothing will happen

Sae: no

y/n: ur literally a prodigy..

Sae: and?

y/n: okay yk what?

y/n: you set everything up then idc

Sae: wtf okay

Sae: 3pms okay

Sae: your place or mine

The first time the two of you meet up, time passes slowly but uneventfully. It’s at your house; the two of you have decided to alternate until the project is done. It doesn’t really matter, though, considering how close you live to each other It takes you almost six hours to perfect the outline, and you’re fucking exhausted by the end of the day. Even Sae doesn’t have any energy in him to spit out any witty remarks until he’s leaving. He shoves his things into his backpack messily. Usually, everything that belongs to him is neat and immaculate, so this goes to show just how much the day has worn him out. But it appears to have reduced the tension between you two as well. [Not that you care.] At the door, he turns back to you. “Fuck you for choosing the most complicated topic just for some extra credit,” he grumbles.

You scoff, even though you know he’s not being serious.

“Fuck you too, Sae Itoshi.” you call.

He raises up one hand to flip you off behind him as he walks off.

You think you hear him laugh.

The second day of the project is spent at Sae’s place. It’s a Saturday, and he forces you to wake up nice and early so the two of you can start working on the project as fast as possible.

“The faster we start, the faster we finish,” he says.

Sae is infinitely more comfortable in his own house, body draped over one of the many sofas in the living room as he types on his laptop. You’re sitting on the floor, on top of a large piece of paper that you’re decorating. This project is such a pain in the ass. The air conditioner is on full blast, but for some reason you’re still feeling kind of feverish. Sae, on the other hand, seems to be living his best life in a tight black t-shirt and light gray sweats that hang annoyingly low on his hips – it’s a simple yet devastatingly distracting outfit, and you can barely focus.

Sooner or later, the two of you find yourselves in the kitchen looking for something to eat. Sae bends down to rifle through the fridge while you seat yourself on one of the high stools around the kitchen counter. Your legs hang in the air, and suddenly you feel very small. But more and more loud noises come from the fridge as Sae curses and throws an empty box behind him; you take this moment to shamelessly ogle his turned back. He straightens up again a moment later, and you rip your eyes away and look down at the counter. Just in time too, because he turns around, slamming the door shut.

“That little shit Rin finished everything good here,” he grumbles, stretching. You have to force yourself to look away from him and the way his shirt rides up to reveal perfectly sculpted abs. He turns to one of the cabinets instead, pulling out a container instead. Opening it up, he sticks one hand inside, pulling out a chocolate chip cookie. Then he holds it out to you. “Want some?”

You nod in assent.

Sae finishes eating before you, but he doesn’t leave the kitchen as you steadily work through the pile of cookies on your plate. It’s not exactly awkward, but he’s slouched against the marble of the kitchen counter, chin resting on one hand as he watches you eat. His pretty teal gaze follows your every movement, yet his face remains completely passive.

You help him wash up after you finish, even though there’s not a lot to clean. But then, as you turn around to leave the kitchen, Sae moves too, and suddenly you’re standing with your front all but pressed up against his. You move to one side to give him space to pass, but apparently he has the same idea at the exact same time. You move to the other side, and so does he. The double coincidence makes you giggle, and pulls a chuckle from him too. But the atmosphere shifts in a way that’s all too familiar, and the pit in your stomach reopens, and you swallow, looking up at Sae. He stares back at you, nonchalant, and before you can say anything or get yourself out of this situation, he speaks. “I want to kiss you again.”

His voice is controlled, toneless. But his eyes, the ones you’ve known for over nine years right now, betray his true feelings. He’s really not as unbothered as he’s trying to appear; a steady fire of something you can’t identify burns in his eyes.

You want to say no. You know that’s the smarter option here. You know you’ll only get hurt more if you let it – or whatever this is – continue like this. The path that you’re walking is already doomed, you can see where the road ends, fades into nothing but pain and suffering. But you’re young, and you’re stupid. And you like Sae Itoshi way more than you should. So you shrug. “Sure.”

Sae cups your face with one hand, adjusting your positioning slightly before he leans down to kiss you. This time, along with the anxiety, there’s also something in you that yearns and yearns. The second or two before Sae kisses you feels like an hour at the least; something almost akin to relief floods through your veins when he finally does.

It’s as if your world shifts as he kisses you again, slow and languid. Or at least, that’s how it starts. In a matter of seconds it turns into something more zealous, all tongue and teeth. Your hands instinctively fly up to tangle into his messy hair as he picks you up effortlessly with one hand and places you atop the kitchen counter. You gasp into his mouth in surprise at the sudden movement, and it draws a low chuckle from him before he pulls away infinitesimally. You’re confused; is it ending already? You don’t want it to end. And it’s as if Sae reads your mind.

“Calm down, pretty,” he pants, eyes wide and pupils blown out. He smirks against your lips, smug, confident. “It’s just a breather, I’ll kiss you again, don’t worry.”

You roll your eyes, and Sae kisses you again; you can feel the way his lips curve up. He feels you loop your arms around his neck, somehow pulling him even closer to you, and he maneuvers one of your legs so it’s hooked around his hip. You seem to get the message, wrapping your legs around his waist. Sae hums into your mouth in approval, dragging a thumb across your cheekbone slowly, lips still against yours. He knows all of this is still more or less new to you, considering the fact that everything you’ve experienced has been with Sae, but it’s obvious that you’re growing more and more used to it by the second.

He doesn’t taste the lipgloss this time; he almost misses it – both the taste, and the way it smudges across your lips so prettily.

The taste of him intoxicates you, leaving you in a drunken stupor where he’s the only thing you can focus on. His every touch leaves a trail of fire in its wake across your body.

But heaven on earth always comes to an end, one way or the other. You’re both oh-so wrapped up in everything going on when Sae suddenly pulls away. You lean back from him, confused. “Sae, what’s wrong?”

“Just, just gimme a sec,” he rasps. His voice is low, husky from the kissing, and he’s somewhat short of breath. “I’m not looking for a relationship or anything. I don’t know why I did it, I broke up with Kaori like a week ago.”

“I know,” you reply matter-of-factly. “Like I give a fuck.”

And then you kiss him again.

The sound of his phone ringing interrupts the two of you, and you both turn your heads to look at it simultaneously. It’s an unknown number; he cuts the call, cursing, and turns back to you. But your eyes are widened in disbelief as you stare at the clock on his lockscreen. “Sae, it’s been almost an hour since we came here!”

“No way,” he says. There’s a note of mild surprise in his voice as he checks for himself.

“We have to get back to work,” you tell him.

“Whatever, five more minutes?”

You shake your head, finally leaving the kitchen. Now that the haze you’d been lost in has finally cleared, the magnitude of just how badly you’ve fucked all this up has begun to really sink in. Sae is much more composed than you – like he didn’t just spend the last thirty-ish minutes making out with you on his kitchen counter.

The two sides of you are fighting, clawing, tearing each other apart. One side wraps around you protectively, trying to keep your heart safe. To keep you safe. Stay away from him, it screams. You’ll only get hurt. The other side wants him – wants him so badly. He has you addicted with a singular touch; your body needs this, craves him.

And you hate how he’s perfectly fine about all this.

Spoiler alert: he isn’t. Although his face doesn’t betray it, he has been thinking.

That evening, before you leave, he asks you a question.

“What are we?”

You pause. “You said you’re not, y’know…”

“Yeah.” he’s selfish; he knows that you’re into him at least a little bit. [or a lot, considering how the last few days have been.] “What do you wanna do?”

This is the last moment you can turn back, save yourself. But you only live once, right? Might as well do it for the plot. “We can keep it like this, I don’t mind.”

Sae watches you touch up your makeup before you leave. You work calm and methodically – mascara, lipstick, that damned strawberry lipgloss. “y/n.”

You move your gaze from your compact mirror to him. Damn, you’re pretty. “What?”

“Kiss me,” he says, from the couch.

You don’t say no as you take your shoes off again.

You reapply your lipgloss again half an hour later, on the way home.

The project is completed much earlier than expected. If you’re being honest, though, you should have expected this, considering the two of you spend most of every day at each others’ places now anyways. You’ve always hated having rich, absent parents, but it doesn’t seem half as bad now. Not when Sae’s hand sits so comfortably on your waist, chin resting atop yours as he takes a photo of the finished piece. It’s like you’re two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly, that are meant to be. You wish it was meant to be.

You and Sae have been pretty good at keeping things under wraps, especially when you can barely keep your hands off each other. Ever since you okayed the relationship-not-relationship, it’s as if things have automatically upped a notch. And even then, you barely text, unless it’s about meeting up in secluded corners and empty parking lots, where Sae kisses you silly, until you can’t breathe and his sharp teal gaze is unfocused and glazed over. Sae chases you the way he chases every goal on the field, focused on you and only you, ruthless, mindless of everyone else until he has you right where he wants you, with unbuttoned shirts and loosened ties and roaming hands that grab collars and venture daringly underneath clothes without ever crossing that invisible line. In the past few weeks, for example, you’ve felt up Sae’s abs way more than you’re going to admit; you’ve lost count by now anyways, but you know you’d never go farther. [you never started.]

When Sae Itoshi truly puts his mind to it, he is an emphatic lover. Between days of stolen kisses and fleeting touches and nights where you sneak out to meet him like he’s your boyfriend, time passes fast. Your favorite drink sits at one corner of your desk every day at school, and sometimes people ask if you’re dating someone. You shake your head no, but it still is a pleasant surprise every day, you tell people. It’s most definitely not Sae, especially when he’s slightly late to school every day after his early morning soccer practice.

In his own classroom down the hall, Rin’s lips quirk up into a subtle smile.

Sixteen turns into seventeen in the blink of an eye.

Sae’s slowly becoming more and more busy with soccer, and it’s not like you aren’t busy either. You barely see him now, except at schools and parties, both of which are less than ideal, considering the nature of your relationship. This doesn’t deter Sae, however, and you often find yourselves in empty rooms or the like, risking it all for a few kisses.

And then there’s the matter of his girlfriends. Because whether you like it or not, Sae has begun to date girls every now and then. They’re not serious relationships, just stupid flings that last a month or two. He never brings them up to you, and you never mention them either, unless you’re asking whether he’s done with them. He doesn’t tell you when exactly he starts dating someone new, but it’s obvious from how he pulls back and stops texting you at all. And then you see a new girl hanging off his arm at every party, and of course you’re jealous. Why wouldn’t you be? After all, it’s been five years since the first spark of anything you’ve felt for him came alive.

You’re the one constant in his life, though, other than soccer. Every time he’s done with another girlfriend, he comes straight back to you. Or you go back to him.

Sae: come over?

Sae: yeah yeah im done w her dont worry

y/n: okay

You never refuse him, overpowered by greed, trying to get as much of him to yourself as you can.

“Hey,” he greets you. His lips are already on yours before he’s closing the door. You don’t respond – how can you, given your position – but you smile into the kiss all the same. Sae is the closest you’ve ever had to a boyfriend. You have no interest in anyone outside him anyways. His parents are rarely home, and so are yours, so you often end up spending nights at each others’ places. It’s nothing sexual; you’d just rather not be alone. There’s a drawer of Sae’s things in your room, and he knows – and you know he knows – that you wear them occasionally. You always deny it, but he encourages it with a sly smile. “Better you than anyone else,” he says. It makes you feel special. Even his girlfriends don’t get that treatment. But that’s before you sleep over at Sae’s. Once you start staying over, his clothes are basically at your disposal. You steal his button ups, his t-shirts, his shorts. And the best part is, he doesn’t mind in the slightest. All he does is grin at you lazily while he shamelessly checks you out. “You look good, pretty girl.”

He laughs at the way the pet name startles you.

Seventeen is also when your life falls apart.

Sae shows up unannounced one night at your door, with a bouquet, a gift bag and an envelope. You haven’t seen him in a while. He’s been busy with some sort of tryouts, you’re not really sure. He hands the bag and flowers to you watching you toss the bouquet onto a couch and turn to the bag. You take out a small velvet box. It looks expensive. Inside, there’s a simple gold necklace with a heart-shaped locket. Your eyes widen. “Sae, what is this? How much did it–”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. His usually dispassionate face seems almost sad. “Just a present for my favorite girl.”

Sae has never been a verbal person with you. In the last two years, he’s only ever made his thoughts clear through his actions – never his words. This is new, and for some reason, it scares you. “But why?”

“It’s my way of saying goodbye,” he admits. Your heart drops.

“What?”

He hands you the envelope next, and your eyes frantically skim through the document until you finish; he’s been chosen to go to Spain and train under that one soccer team he’s always talked about. You look up with wide eyes. “Sae, I’m so happy for you!”

He smiles, albeit melancholically. “I knew you’d be. But there’s also… us.”

You’re confused. “Huh? Us?”

He nods. “Whatever we’re doing right now – I can’t continue it. Not like this, over texts, with the time difference and everything. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do.” Your heart shatters into a million pieces, but you don’t want to feel any of this. Because even though you’re losing him right now, he was never yours in the first place – and you were never his. And you’d known this from the start; anticipated it even. There’d been a small part of you that had hoped, of course, that things would go a different route, but it had been set in stone all along. You take a deep breath. “Okay, Sae Itoshi, what do you wanna do?”

The corners of his lips twitch at the use of his full name, even as he tries to remain serious. “I don’t know, y/n l/n, what do I wanna do?”

Stuffing the envelope back into his hoodie pocket, he cradles your face softly with both hands, like you’re fragile. Weird. He’s never done anything like this, especially not almost-in-public. He’s always been careful, trying not to get caught. And he has kept this hidden for almost two years now, so you can’t exactly complain. You grab his wrists with both of your hands, pulling him into your house. You lock the door carefully, but you don’t notice the girl at the corner of the street. The one with a wicked little smile on her face, as she clicks yet another incriminating picture of you and Sae, damning evidence of the stupid not-relationship the two of you have kept hidden for so long.

“Do me,” you snicker as soon as you make sure the door is locked. It’s not your usual humor, not with Sae, anyways, but you’re too absorbed in your thoughts, trying to hide the intense pain you’re feeling right now. You hope it doesn’t show on your face.

Sae raises one eyebrow, arms crossed in front of him. “Come again?”

“Nothing,” you say. “C’mere, help me put this on.”

He follows you to your room like a sad puppy, waiting silently as you turn the lights on and stand in front of the mirror. He takes the necklace from your hands, fastening it around your neck. You fix the positioning of the locket; the metal is cool against your skin that’s heated up from the brush of his fingers on the nape of your neck. Your eyes meet his in the mirror, and the silence is strained, awkward even, unlike anything you’ve experienced with him before.

“So, when are you leaving?” you ask him.

“Tomorrow.”

Oh. So that’s why it’s goodbye. Of course. [You want to die.] Instead, you turn to him, hoping your face doesn’t betray your emotions. “How long are you staying here?”

“How long do you want me to?”

“When’s your flight?”

“Stop asking me questions,” he huffs. “Eight, I think.”

You open your mouth to ask another question.

“AM, eight in the morning,” he says, hands raised in surrender. “Now will you stop?”

“Let’s watch a movie,” you tell him, ignoring the second statement. “Then you can go home, I guess.”

“You guess? What, you wanna keep me here forever?” he means it as a joke, but you hum in agreement.

“Sure.”

He pulls one of your drawers open, taking out two sets of clothing. He chucks one at you with a grin. “Go change, stupid. Get comfortable.”

“Oh,” you say. “You have to take all this back, right?”

“Nah,” he responds carelessly. “I don’t. Keep ‘em, throw ‘em out for all I care.”

You change in the bathroom, giving him space to do the same in your room. But when you come out after giving him sufficient time to finish – he’s always been quick in every way – he hasn’t changed, standing with his back to you while talking on the phone in only his boxers. You wait for him to finish, patiently staring at his back until he finishes. He notices your presence almost as soon as the call ends, turning around to face you. “What?”

“Nice ass, Itoshi,” you grin.

He narrows his eyes at you. “For real, y/n?”

You don’t answer, instead busying yourself with fixing up your bed while he gets dressed. When your bed looks okay enough for your [arguably low] standards, you turn back to Sae, who’s still very much shirtless. He holds his t-shirt in front of him, staring at it skeptically.

“The fuck, Sae? Put your clothes on!”

“It’s hot tonight,” he complains. “Can’t I go without?”

In all those nights of staying over, he’s never done that before. If it had been anyone else you’d probably have said no. But it is Sae asking, and when have you ever said no to him? You make a show of thinking it over, but your mind has already said yes.

You start off at separate sides of the bed – you always do. This time, though, you don’t really concentrate on the movie as much as you should. Sneaking looks at Sae Itoshi’s lean, yet defined and extremely attractive body is much more fun anyways. When you’re about halfway through the stupid, sappy rom-com you’re watching, you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around your middle before Sae pulls you into himself. Your terrified shriek turns into a groan as you turn over to smack him in annoyance. “Maybe ask next time!”

Sae shakes his head, burying his face in your hair. Humming appreciatively, he pulls the hem of your [his] loose t-shirt up just enough to be able to wrap his arms around your bare middle. He turns back to the movie, but you’re stuck in contemplative thought. This is all new; he’s never actively done anything like it during any of your countless movie nights – if they can even be called that, considering the majority of them are interrupted by him initiating something or vice versa – and he’s always waited for the two of you to slowly come closer to each other rather than pull you to him, like tonight. He’s acting like what you'd expect a real boyfriend to act like, and suddenly your insides lurch, and once again the gravity of the situation hits you.

You’ve never really minded being Sae’s little secret, someone he comes back to when he’s tired of school and soccer and his girlfriends. It makes you feel like you’re kind of a safe space for him, where he’s not afraid to be soft or tired or imperfect. Of course, he’ll always be perfect in your eyes, anyways. But it hurts like hell now, when he acts like he’s yours, buying you expensive shit, calling you his favorite girl – who even does that? You’re already thinking of giving the necklace away, because how can you live with something like it, when he’s the one giving it to you, his “favorite girl”, when he’s not even your boyfriend. And even then, you’ve managed to somehow fall in love with him.

It’s so fucked – you’re so fucked.

Sae seems oblivious to your troubled thoughts, hands busied with toying with your necklace.

“This looks pretty on you,” he murmurs, and you want to throw up. You can’t take it anymore; you want to forget it, forget him, forget every compliment that he’s handed you today like some sort of indirect apology. Another second of all this, and you might just cry. You need him to shut the fuck up, and the easiest way to do that is–

“Sae, wanna make out?”

He never says no to you, either.

Sae leaves like a shadow in the night; he kisses you goodbye and whispers something that sounds suspiciously like “I’msorryIloveyou” before he pulls away. But he’s Sae, he would never say that. And even while breaking your heart into pieces with his bare hands, slow and deliberate, he still has the audacity to look so devastatingly beautiful while doing it. And you still can’t hate him. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to. It’s maybe two in the morning when you stand at the door waiting for him to leave – you’re not sure because one moment you’re falling asleep, and the next he’s waking you up, cursing, running late. He still needs to pack half his stuff. You’re startled out of your sleep when you hear that; is he fucking stupid? Who leaves that for the last few hours?

But you digress.

You haven’t bothered to turn the lights on, knowing that you'll probably just go back to bed and cry. Maybe grab some ice cream from the kitchen on your way. Not that it matters. Sae’s changed back into his normal clothes again. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he stops. Stepping out of your house for the last time in who knows when, he turns back. You both speak at the same time.

“y/n.”

“Sae.”

“You go first,” he says.

“How long will you be, um, gone?” you ask. You’re aware your voice is shaky. Your lower lip trembles, and you bite down on it to stop. You’re going to cry – you don’t want to, not in front of him.

“Two years,” he replies sheepishly. “Give or take.”

Two–

“I won’t have my phone, or anything,” he continues, unprompted. “So…”

“Yeah, I get it,” you say.

“Yeah.”

“What were you gonna say?” you ask. You’d almost forgotten.

“Oh,” he seems shy, all of a sudden. The cocky, confident, arrogant, brash Sae Itoshi, acting like this in front of you? Something’s definitely up. “Oh.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll miss you,” he says at last.

He watches your face carefully: the way it moves, the way your expression changes, the way the tiniest spasm of pain flits across it before it goes back to whatever facade you’ve been maintaining carefully ever since he came over today. You don’t say anything back, but god you’re beautiful. Even in your [his] ugly, oversized clothes and with your messy hair, you look absolutely enchanting, angelic features illuminated by the silvery moonlight. Suddenly he’s transported back to a certain evening almost two years ago, with you in a shimmery blue dress, standing by a window. You in that same blue dress, kissing him like your life depended on it. You–

“You should go,” you say shakily. I’ll miss you too, Sae. So much. You don’t even know.

“I should.” He doesn’t want to.

[You don’t see Sae Itoshi again until you’re on a cruise ship, celebrating your nineteenth birthday.]

189 notes · View notes

bynott · 2 days

Text

anything for you. theodore nott.

in a universe where voldemort won, you and theo risk everything.

warnings: graphic death

pairing: theodore nott x ron weasley's twin sister!reader

“You can’t possibly love him, y/n. He’s a bloody Death Eater!” your brother had jeered at you. Hot tears ran down your face but you refused to wipe them. You wanted everyone in the room to see how deeply this was hurting you.

“I have never been more sure of something in my life. While you were gone – while everyone was gone – he was the only constant. He isn’t who you think he is.” The room broke out into a chorus of repulsed sounds. The Order of the Phoenix wasn’t much these days, the predominant members being the Weasley family. Harry Potter’s death loomed over everyone. Numerous other deaths piled on: those who died at the beginning of the war, but those who have died recently like your older brothers, Percy and George, and your father, Arthur.

“He thinks we’re scum! He would kill Hermione on the spot. How can you stand there and say this shit?” another brother had chimed in. Voices were starting to overlap the more trapped you felt.

“You’ve never given him or myself the chance to prove that’s not true! If you remember, Theo was the one who told me about everything Draco was doing back in school. He has already given us so much information. He’s climbing the ranks, but he is doing it for us!” you fell to your knees, exhaustion and frustration getting the best of you. “Can’t you see that even if he’s not doing it for all of you, he’s putting his life on the line trying to help secure a world that I feel safe in? You know how my beliefs align!”

“Has he stopped killing innocent people? Does he still partake in Voldemort’s plans that don’t necessarily target us? If he’s climbing the ranks, I can’t begin to imagine what he’s doing to do so,” your mother inquired, shooting daggers at you. You couldn’t look her in the eyes.

“He’s doing what he can to survive, too. If he dies, we will lose so much.” Without missing a beat, you added, “If he dies, I am as good as dead.”

This conversation, over a year old, still rings in your head every time you meet Theo. Your current setup in an old warehouse allowed these thoughts to amplify. The only sounds keeping you from spiraling were the rhythmic tapping of Ron’s foot and Bill’s pacing. You never got to see Theo alone, but that wasn’t a horrible thing.

Though you wanted nothing more than to have one evening alone with him, as selfish as that sounds given the climate of the world right now, the positive came in the form of the people who joined you on these exchanges and started to see through the cracks in Theo’s character. This hardened soldier who bears the Dark Mark turns into someone else in your presence. He is more patient and gentle, as compared to the man that numerous members of the Order have seen slaughter people in cold-bold, just to laugh at their frozen-in-death facial expressions.

You had noticed changes in Theo throughout the last few times you’d seen him. He was much more focused on you than the information they were there to exchange. He’d almost become frantic – dark circles that got darker every time you saw him circled his eyes, and his face had become much more caved in. He was starting to look as though he were actively being tortured. He didn’t look better this time around.

You sprang up from your spot when you heard the metal door grind against the floor, opening quicker than anticipated. Ron and Bill quickly put their wands up and took aim at Theo, refusing to put them down even when you yelled, “It’s just him!” Theo didn’t respond much better, raising his wand and aiming at Bill, who you knew Theo saw as more of a threat than Ron.

“Are you being followed? What made you come in here like that?” Bill growled, eyes flickering between Theo and the entrance. Theo narrowed his eyes at the older man.

“You think I would lead them straight here if I was? If it was just you two, sure. But, I would never do that with her here. Consider yourself lucky,” Theo spit.

“That’s enough. Are you alright?” you stated, briskly walking to your lover. Up close, you noticed faint bruising around his neck, as if he’d been choked. Theo didn’t say anything and instead, kept his eyes locked on the two men standing behind you. “Theo,” you trailed off, putting one hand on his cheek. You searched his eyes for any type of response, but you couldn’t find one.

“You don’t have much time,” he said, only loud enough that Ron and Bill were barely able to hear. You took a slight step back, still close enough that you could hold his hand – the hand that he couldn’t even bring himself to grasp in return.

“What?”

“The Dark Lord knows there’s a mole in his closest circle. He knows you are not dead, despite me telling him you were,” Theo said, finally making eye contact with you. Your mouth fell open and you held his hand tighter.

Theo lost his will to fight at that exact moment, letting his hand holding his wand fall to his side. He pulled you into him and rested his forehead against yours. “He knows you’re the mole?” you whispered.

“Not yet, but I can’t imagine it taking much longer. His eyes are set on Berkshire – thinks he’s gotten scared now that his mother died. I was able to ward him off me for the time being. I told him that I wasn’t the one to kill you, I just saw you get hit with a nasty spell.”

“Come with us before it’s too late, Theo. How many times do I have to beg you? Turn your back on it all. We can keep you protected.” you pleaded, looking back at your brothers for reassurance. Bill shook his head before Ron chose to speak.

“He is not coming back with us. Do you know what kind of target that would place on us? It would be a death sentence,” he spit. “With that Dark Mark, I’m sure Voldemort could summon you back to him at any given second,” he added. You spun around to confront him but Theo was quicker – he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into him.

“I wasn’t planning on it, Weasley,” Theo said with such spite behind his words that it made you want to cower away from him. He looked down at you, asking you a silent question. You bit your lip in thought, looking over at your brothers.

“Could you guys give us a minute to ourselves? Just stand guard at the door.” With a few grumbles, you were able to convince them to leave. As soon as the door shut, you wrapped your arms around Theo as tight as you could, reassuring yourself that he was here with you and still alive. For how much longer he would be alive, no one was certain.

“You can leave them. Even if you don’t take refuge with us, you can escape,” you pleaded. Theo softly shook his head and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“No, y/n, I can’t. I’m bound to him until one of us dies. I…” he trailed off. You frantically started shaking your head at him and he sighed. “We knew this was going to happen.”

“You might have known. I held out hope,” you cried. Theo grabbed your chin gently, using the other hand to wipe away the stray tears. “Promise me you won’t die.”

“Y/n…”

“Promise me, Theo.”

His response never came. Theo pulled you into him and kissed you so tenderly, that it was beyond out of character for him. You knew this was the end. He softly ran his hands down your sides, over your back, anywhere they could grasp. It felt as though he was trying to remember the exact shape of your body. He eventually tried to pull away, but in return, you softly bit his lip and pulled him back in.

Theo couldn’t bring himself to let go of you. You were intoxicating in a way that no drug or drink could replicate. Not breaking the kiss, Theo hoisted you onto a table that was just behind you. Laying you down on it, he kept kissing you. Along your jaw, down your neck – Theo kissed you anywhere with an exposed bit of skin. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying, to which Theo then kissed away your tears. When he was finished, he pulled you up into a sitting position.

“Love, you are the only thing in this short existence of mine that I’ve ever been sure of. When I die, I can die happily because I knew you. I got to love you.” Theo whispered, his voice cracking as he professed to you. You leaned your forehead against him, looking him straight in the eye.

“Try to survive, Theo, please. For me,” you pleaded. Theo nodded briefly but was interrupted by a banging on the door.

“Hurry up, it’s getting dark. We need to leave,” Bill’s voice called out. Bill and Ron both reappeared in the room, looking at the two of you expectantly.

“We need to leave, and you still haven’t given us what we came for,” Bill sighed. Theo tensed and pulled himself away from you, putting his facade back on as if it were a costume. Part of you wished he didn’t, just so they could see the real him.

“The Dark Lord plans to raid Hogsmeade, again. You need to make sure everyone is evacuated. He doesn’t plan on ever having to raid them again. In two days, if you don’t create a plan, everyone still living there will be dead.”

“And will you be one of the Death Eaters killing those people?” Ron inquired.

“If it means that it keeps me alive, and keeps a steady stream of information coming to you, yes. I have never been unclear with my intentions.” Theo said. He was significantly taller than Ron, forcing the redhead to look up at him as Theo walked closer to him, slowly.

“We don’t have time for this,” Bill said, getting visibly anxious. “We’re leaving,” Bill added, grabbing you and Ron both by the arm.

Everything happened so fast after that – you reached out for Theo, but he backed away from you and you could’ve sworn you saw a tear run down his face. Just like that, you were whisked away, Bill choosing that moment to apparate. You didn’t get to say goodbye; you didn’t get to tell him you loved him for the last time.

Three days later, after their failed attempt at raiding Hogsmeade, you and your family watched in horror as Voldemort was broadcasting yet another round of executions. This wasn’t the first time this had happened – the first time being with his son, Mattheo, a boy you had known in school. You can’t recall the exact reason for his death, but it set a standard. If Voldemort would kill his child in such ways, what would he do to others?

You held your breath as the camera view panned down the small row of people awaiting their death. You felt the wind get knocked out of you when you caught sight of him.

The boy you loved was there, his eyes already dead. His appearance was, somehow, much worse than when you had last seen him. The bruising around his neck that had almost been healed was now back in full display, accompanied by bruises all over his face. He had blood dried around his mouth and nose, and his left eye was so swollen that it looked completely closed. Something told you that death was merciful compared to what he had been put through.

Voldemort rambled on about the first three men, killing them quickly. His smile never failed, especially when he turned to the last victim: Theo.

“Theodore Nott, what would your father say?” He teased. He pulled a wand out of the box that a servant of his carried at his side. Raising it, you recognized it to be Theo’s. Voldemort snapped it in half, causing a slight flinch to radiate off Theo.

“Stupidly fell in love with a dirty blood traitor, one of those Weasleys. He’s acted as an agent for them this entire time, but of course, I knew from early on. We’ve played a brilliant game of cat and mouse, haven’t we, Nott?” Voldemort, again, laughed. Every muscle in Theo’s body was tensed up and he never lifted his face to look at the crowd that had gathered or the cameras broadcasting the event.

Noticing Theo's aversion to looking at the crowd, Voldemort ran his fingers through Theo's hair before yanking it back, forcing him to look up. Theo grimaced but finally looked straight at the camera. His good eye bore through you, sending your heart straight to the bottom of your stomach.

You started sobbing, sliding off the couch and crawling towards the hologram showing the entire scene. “Please,” you gasped. Hermione sat behind you, pulling you into her, but you fought her off.

“You were special to me,” Voldemort sighed and raised his wand. You grabbed whatever was closest to you – in this case, a plate someone had been eating off of earlier – and threw it through the hologram. The sound of your sobs and the plate exploding against the wall ricocheted around the hideout.

Another one of your older brothers, Charlie, moved Hermione aside and restrained you. Without doing so, you would’ve hurt yourself or someone else. “Get off me,” you repeatedly screamed, thrashing around on the ground.

Charlie was able to hold you in place on the ground, holding you facedown on the carpet with your arms pinned behind your back. To your horror, you turned your head to the side just in time to see a green light encase Theo in its grip.

The cry you let out was movie-worthy. Using all of your strength, you burst out of Charlie’s grip and jumped up, turning on your surviving family members. “He died for us. He died for us and our cause. You never gave him a chance and never wanted to offer help in return,” you sobbed. Hermione came back to your side and held you in her arms.

You didn’t fight back this time. You sat in her arms and sobbed. You couldn’t stop sobbing as you looked back at the hologram and it was panned to Theo’s dead body. It zoomed in on his face as if to hurt you even more. You watched as Voldemort whispered a simple charm, and flames consumed Theo’s body.

“I hope the Weasleys watching this enjoyed the show. While you watched this we have surrounded your hideout. Even Nott’s Occlumency he worked so hard on for you couldn’t keep me out. Perhaps it’s good that you never trusted him with your exact location, or else this would’ve happened long ago.” Voldemort smiled, and the hologram shut off. There was no noise in the room other than your silent sobs.

Then, the first window exploded.

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astroyongie · 2 days

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My Opinion On The Moon Signs and Placements

Note: the venus placements will be next <33 hope you guys like it, also take it lightly its just my opinion on the placements and not necessarily the true

Aries Moon: I often have a hard time reading Aries moons because they have such an intense way of communicating their emotions. they are either all in or all out and there isn't mid terms with them. Aries' moon is fierce, their instinct tingles. Some people see them as selfish people.

Taurus Moon: they are so much more than what meets the eye. They tend to be pretty rational with what happens around them, yet they can be quite intuitive as well despite not being a water sign. They are the type to hide their emotions so well, but also to run away from them. They are often emotionally stable but their ability to hold grudges is.. scary

Gemini Moon: There’s this stereotype that gemini moods are emotional wrecks because we never know how they are feeling and also because they exhibit huge emotional swings depending on their environment and people they are with. The true is they don't understand what they feel deep down so they are often just as confused

Cancer Moon: Again they have this stereotype that they are super sensible, emotional and super manipulators. Although in some cases this can be true, cancer moon is also someone that has that protective fire in them, they have such a huge protective instinct. They are super pessimists tho

Leo Moon: They aren’t as egocentric as one can think. Yes, they will put themselves first in certain situations but that’s because people tend to also take their loyalty and their warmth for granted. They are a little dramatic when they are feeling stuff.

Virgo Moon: Virgo moons often have a sharp instinct, they have a good memory as well and they always try to process their emotions through rationalizing them, which often hurts because they don't allow their emotions to be processed. They fear losing control over what they feel.

Libra Moon: Their head is a big mess, they never know who to trust, what to feel and how to understand their feelings. often these placement gets co dependent on other people for their emotions because they kind are unable to live by themselves with their own heads

Scorpio Moon: Of course that they are intense, they feel things deeply and with all its rawness. Their intuition is high, they can read people so well and they do have empathetic feelings toward others. When they are in love, it's so beautiful but the trust issues of this placement is no joke

Sagittarius Moon: My opinion on them might be a little biased but gosh, they are so intense, in a way that their emotions are so outbrusting. They can be the happiest person and 5 minutes later they are shifting and it's impulsive and reckless and they have no control over what they are feeling. they have short memory too in my opinion. .

Capricorn Moon: Like most earth placements, Capricorn moons are scared to not be in control of what they feel. They are clever, they are intuitive to a certain point but they are way too cautious and don't allow their emotions to be fully processed. Sometimes they like sensitivity or lack understanding toward other people’s feelings because they see it as dramatism.

Aquarius Moon: Please someone enlighten me about them because I swear I don't understand them. they way of feeling, they way they expose things, they way they remember things. their brain, their emotional output is not conventional and is different from other people,which often makes them misunderstood. but their lack of empathy and their lack of seeing things through other perceptions is also the cause.

Pisces Moon: Yes, another stereotype that they are overly sensitive and that they are cry babies. but their intuition is huge, their emotional sponge is hard to control.yet they can also be the most cold placements ever. if they don't want to feel, they won’t. their escapism ability is out of this world

Moon in the 1st House: Usually they are seen as people that are caregivers. They are often leaned on due to their ability to be able to understand others and always find solutions when it comes to solving issues. They have a very soft personality and they are reliable yet people often take advantage of them because they can’t say no. they have that dreamy beauty in them as well

Moon in the 2nd House: Their whole emotional being depends on how they live their life, on how comfortable they are and how much of the dream life they can live. More often, people with this placement tend to want luxury in their life and they can be an emotional wreck when their values, their possessions or their goals are shattered by life.

Moon in the 3rd House: these people are super smart, like socially and emotionally smart. They make such good teachers, therapists but also manipulators because they are able to use people’s strengths and weaknesses to their own expenses but also to help others. They overthink a lot though, and they tend to suffer a lot from their own emotional health.

Moon in the 4th House: They put a lot of importance in what they consider to be their roots, their culture and their family. They are often family oriented, they love kids and kids love them. some of them can even have that superpower of knowing when someone is pregnant! Some also have taken since young age the role of parent or responsibility in their household

Moon in the 5th House: The creativity that they have is unmatched, the talent that they have for arts, for self expression through their body and their hobbies is amazing. definitely a good placement when one wants to pursue a career in the arts related businesses and professions. These people also have a very funny sense of humor, and they are hopeless romantics.

Moon in the 6th House: This placement can be tricky because it can make someone super emotional, to struggle a lot with their health in general (both emotional and physical). Yet these people also have a good sense in business and they can easily get the career of their dreams just by the power of manifestation.

Moon in the 7th House: They are hopeless romantics as well, they live for their love life, they live for romance, for relationships. People with these placements often tend to be unable to stay alone for a long time and not having someone to love is something that causes them inner turmoil and pain. they have such a good instinct tho, and their love truly is pure

Moon in the 8th House: their emotional intuition is no joke, these people are not only gifted when it comes to the occult and the spiritual world, some can also have the power to predict changes, shifts and even physical death due to their strong and sharp sense of intuition. They are super emotional as well and often tend to suffer from that. They can’t let go of past feelings

Moon in the 9th House: They are so smart, a lot of people with this placement have a photographic memory, like they are able to remember every single detail. They are people who often feel either connected with their religion and practice, or they are connected with their education, their traditions and overall values. they can have such impactful, deep conversions as well due to the way they are passionate about these things.

Moon in the 10th House: Their whole well being is only based on one thing: their status and their career. Nothing much is important to them other than what they are able to bring into life for themselves. some people might think that they are arrogant or lack emotional maturity, but this placement is actually a placement that demands to be stable in their overall life, in order to be able to be healthy emotionally

Moon in the 11th House: Their friendships are super important to them, but so is their social reputation, their emotional well being is often tied with how well they are perceived by others. They want to be seen as reliable and cool, for some even popular. They easily make friends but they get attached quickly as well. they have a strong manifestation

Moon in the 12th House: Similarly to the 6th house, people with this placement can have some struggles with their emotions. yet they can also be so damn intuitive and have gifts when it comes to the spiritual world and the sensing of the spiritual world. Yet these people are also seen as weird by others and because of that they can feel lonely all their life. they self sabotage themselves because of that

#astrology #astrology prediction #astrology facts #astrology readings #astro observations #astrology observations #astrology signs #mercury #moon

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laismoura-art · 15 hours

Text

Ok so...

Twice now i’ve seen people approach @elsa-fogen about a take that is “Alastor is in hell because of Voodoo” (the latest one basically saying he is in hell solemnly because of Voodoo”) and I can’t help but feel there’s reeks of religious intolerance from his take (even if it’s not intentional) cause let’s not forget, Voodoo is a religion (main one in places such as Haiti and Gana), and it’s often stigmatised and viewed through the wrong light. So you all can understand how a take like this could rub someone the wrong way and be deemed as religious intolerance.

But as I know this fandom is PAINFULLY stubborn and probably will want to keep exploring this take even if it makes some people uncomfortable (take the people who refuse to acknowledge Alastor as aro and the people who refuse to stop calling Alastor a wendigo for instance) I would like to offer an alternative take:

See, I’m not from Voodoo and it’s not that big of a religion here in Brazil, however, we do have two other religions here that are similar/derivatives from Voodoo (Candomblé and Umbanda) and face similar prejudices, so I’m making this based mostly on these two but know that it also applies to Voodoo.

In Umbanda, we have a higher god, the Orixás (entities that provide guidance and protection) and we have spirits, these spirits divide in different groups and offer advices and guidance to all types of people, there are spirits that look after women, children, grieving parents and even the lost (such as drug addicts).

But as we have good spirits, we also have bad ones. they are popularly known as “espiritos de porco” (pig spirits) who are usually mischievous and even ill intended spirits that might loom over you if they feel a bad energy coming from you or if you are spiritually unprotected and they will start to cause you misfortune and even make you feel weak and sick.

Some ill-intended people use these bad spirits against people they want to harm, the bad spirits may guide them in performing a ritual or maybe the spirit will loom on this targeted person.

It’s (partly) due to people like this that these religions have such bad reputation, but these people basically perform their religion in a corrupted way! Umbanda is a religion that connects you with nature and guides you spiritually, it’s deeply connected with healing practises (mentally, physically and spiritually), but as I said, like EVERY other religion, it can be corrupted and used to harm.

I think the best use of “corrupt vs proper use of religion” I’ve seen comes from Disney's The Princess and the Frog. People usually remember Dr Facilier better, who used Voodoo against his enemies and to harvest power (much like a certain deer man we all know and love) but we also had Mama Odie (which is a real figure in voodoo, mind you. Also present in Umbanda, a Mama Odie is sort of a priestess of the religion) notice how she is a much more accurate representation of the religion, she lives in contact with nature, she performs her rituals and prayers in the wide while dancing with a very positive energy around, and she wears white (which is the most recommended colour to wear during rituals, as it’s a neutral colour and pleases all Orixás).

So as you can see, there’s good voodoo practicants and bad ones, and in the end it’s all about how you use your religion, if you use it as you were taught, with pure intentions, seeking guidance and protection of good spirits and Orixás, or in a corrupt way, surrounding yourself with bad spirits and helping them spread their bad energy.

So what I am hoping with all this is is that people put a stop to “Alastor is evil because he uses Voodoo” and adopt the “Alastor is evil because he does malpractice of Voodoo” which is a much more accurate to reality and respectful take.

I’d even like to offer a headcanon of my own:

That Alastor's mom was from Voodoo (maybe even was a Mama Odie herself) and taught Alastor all she knew and he corrupted her teachings and started using them for evil (perhaps even to aid him in his killing) and THAT, that corruption, was what sent him to hell, and true redemption for him would not to give up his powers/forsake his religion but actually to go back to his roots and use his powers for good (perhaps in a way that he ends up healing/saving someone (hopefully Charlie or Rosie)👀

#tw religious intolerance #religious intolerance #voodoo #umbanda #candomblé #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #<- please don't be extremely stubborn about this take #I'm BEGGING you #the princess and the frog #mama odie #dr facilier

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howtofightwrite · 2 days

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re: the question about stunning someone with head trauma (and how you Should Not unless you're okay with them dying) would knocking the wind out of a character be a better way to have that happen?

Yes, but no.

So, knocking the wind out of someone is a lot safer. I wouldn't say perfectly safe, this is how Harry Houdini died, after all. However, it's a lot safer that head wounds, and usually wouldn't result in any major injuries.

The downside is against a trained opponent, who's ready for the hit, it's not going to work. This isn't called a, “sucker punch,” without reason. If your abdominal muscles are tensed for the punch, they will absorb a lot of the blow. So this works better against the unaware or the untrained.

The other problem is, it's not going to take someone out for the duration of the scene. In a self defense situation, winding your attacker is great, because it lets you create an opening to start your escape. But, it's not going to stun someone for minutes. From personal experience, you can measure the time you gain from winding your opponent in seconds.

There are combos that start with winding someone and lead into more painful blows that can extend that opening. But, there is a continuity of force: Incapacitating someone for longer requires inflicting harm that is increasingly difficult (impossible) to moderate.

If the goal is to escape from someone who means you harm, then yeah, an elbow strike to their stomach, will give you the opportunity to get out of there.

If the goal is to have a prolonged conversation while standing over a defeated (but still living foe), that's not really something you can do intentionally. At the same time, intentional application of lethal force isn't as reliable as you might expect. For example, gunshot wounds to the head are only fatal ~98% of the time.

The issue with this train of thought is that the individual inflicting harm cannot moderate for the desired outcome. Knocking someone out, only for them to recover, is 100% possible. However, you can't do that intentionally. And having a character who does bounce another person's head off the pavement until they stop twitching, is an incredibly violent act, and it's not going to be a casual, “well they're just knocked out.” It's a, “Carl, that kills people,” moment.

If you want a character that is disproportionately violent, and probably scares everyone around them a bit, this will feed into that presentation. If you want a character who's a good person because they don't kill people, then attempting to inflict life altering injuries on someone is probably not the best way to demonstrate their ethics.

(Remember, Batman doesn't kill people, he just shatters their spines; leaving them at the mercy of the American health care system. So, the real moral lesson of Batman is that it's better to be psychologically unwell and wealthy, than economically disadvantaged. You can murder half of the city, and he'll gently deposit you in a padded cell that you can escape from whenever you get bored of the place, but if you so much as imply that you'll resort to less than legal means to put food on the table for your starving family, he will end your existence as a vertebrate.)

And, yes, I fully realize that, by the nature of his character, and comics, Batman (like most superhero comics) is poorly suited to discuss the complex factors involved in street level crime. This this is more of a critique on the treatment of “violence is okay, so long as no one ends up in the morgue,” more than a specific character critique.

There's another part to this that worth remembering, and I know I've said this before, but when you're writing, violence offers diminishing returns. Violence releases the tension you've been building. You can think of it like a rubber band gun. Until you pull the trigger, that rubber band is under tension, and the moment you release it, you hit your audience. Now, getting hit a rubber band is a sharp, and somewhat unpleasant experience, but the second time is going to annoy you less than the first, and if you're constantly bombarded with them, you'll quickly become numb to their impacts.

I'm not saying that you can't, or shouldn't, use violence, however as a writer, you are paying a very real cost whenever you use violence to resolve a scene. It's something that you do need to consider carefully. Part of my aversion to questions like this comes from this structural consideration. A lot of writers make the mistake of using non-lethal violence somewhat indiscriminately. This can absolutely harm the credibility of your characters, and your world.

There is absolutely a place for violence in stories, however, this is a tool that is most effective when used sparingly, or deliberately. (This doesn't mean the violence itself needs to be deliberate, just your use of it.)

A lot of the time when someone says, “I want to use violence to temporarily remove a character from the scene,” that's a scenario that will harm your story. There are a lot of ways to remove a character from a scene, and I don't mean, “alternatives to fighting,” like hiding from them or talking them down. The limit here is your creativity, and in a lot of ways, violence is the least interesting way to achieve your goals.

-Starke

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#how to fight write #writing advice #writing tips #writing reference #starke answers

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professor-beaker · 2 days

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(Warning: very long rant about growing up religious and aroace. Might delete this in an hour. Idk)

Dear mom and dad,

Do you remember when i was 14, and had my first kiss? You probably dont- for you, it was just another sunday. He was one of my only church friends, and he pulled me, alone, into one of the music rooms after sacrament meeting. You encouraged me to go with him, because you could read the signs i couldnt. He was very polite, but when we kissed and he grabbed my hand on the way out, it felt more wrong than anything id experienced before. I ran back to you, crying, and you walked me through rejecting him. You basically told me that i was just too young, that it would get better, but it certainly didnt feel that way at the time. Every time youve reminisced on it since, it was only to laugh at my expense. At my naievety.

I tried to take your words to heart. I tried to listen each time our church would preach about how essential families were and each time you told me how happy you two were. It didnt work.

Do you remember when i was 15, and i told you, mom, that adopting sounded way better than having biological kids? You got so offended, and i had no idea why. I still dont. You told me it was a natural part of life, that we were supposed to bring children into this world. I tried to explain my reasoning- why would i want my own children when there are those who are suffering on their own? When the thought of procreation made me sick?- but you dismissed it. It was just another day.

Do you remember the brief period when i was 15, when i dated a girl? I assume you dont, because you never found out. I lived in constant fear, because the comments you would make at the dinner table described lgbtq+ as an affront to God, as unnatural. I had thought that men were the problem, and she was my first real partner. But nothing changed, it still felt wrong, and we fell back into only being friends. I hadnt told you about that until today, because i knew exactly what youd say about it. I knew exactly what youd say about me.

Do you remember the boy i met when i was 16? The one with the curly hair and the kind smile. You were always pushing me toward him, because you saw how he looked at me (i saw, too- and i didnt like it). He took me to homecoming, and prom, and danced too close to me for my liking. You always asked if we were a thing yet- and when i said no, you smiled knowingly. I hated that smile. And you smiled that smile for years.

I reconnected with him when i was home over winter break. We hung out once, i told him my sexuality, and he barely reacted. When you asked how it went, i told you i rejected him romantically, but we were still friends. Do you remember what you said, mom? You said, "so you broke his heart and left." I cried that night.

Do you remember when you found my aroace pins a month ago? Im at college in a different state- a religious college you wanted me to go to- and you still made it your priority to berate me for it. I dont know if you could tell how angry i was over the phone, but when you said "asexual and things are just looking for attention", it broke my heart.

Because i figured it out when i was 17. Because it took me two years to finally accept it in a religion that very strongly emphasized the family unit. Because i finally felt accepted, i felt heard, i wasnt being dismissed at every corner. Because i had something to explain why i was like this.

Because i finally didnt feel broken.

I never doubted that you loved me- not once, ever, in my life. Not until you started degrading me for something i couldnt control. Not until you started pressuring me to date people i would much rather be friends with. If youre not going to love all of me, then do you even love me at all?

I hope you know that i still love you, despite everything. But i hate the way you talk to me now, the way you talk to others about me. And i hope that one day, you, too, will realize that im not broken, or affronting God, or unnatural. I hope you realize that im still your child.

I hope you realize im still human.

#aroace #aromantic #asexual #arospec #aro problems #aro #ace #lgbtq community #lgbtqia #lgbt pride #religion #literally just a rant #i am not expecting notes on this at all

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notafragilething · 2 days

Text

Late Night Buck & Tommy Rambling: I'm Talking about Ryan

This is going to be a slightly different ramble than normal because I'm going to start this (and focus) on the Ryan clip that came out this afternoon. Trigger warning for vague discussions of someone making an attempt at unaliving.

This afternoon Tommy DiDario shared a clip from his interview with Ryan where he is extremely brave, honest and vulnerable and discusses his mental health crisis. In it Ryan shares that he made an attempt on his own life and how that has impacted his life and his views. I'm paraphrasing but he basically discusses how men need to let go of toxic masculinity and be able to lean on their brothers/friends for support. And if they're not able to be there to support you then go find ones that are.

This adds so much context to why he keeps talking about and emphasizing the importance of current storyline with Eddie and Buck. That he wants to show two men who are able to be friends and vulnerable and lean on each other. Because this is something that is very important and personal for him because of what he went through and how bad it got for him.

I know there is a lot of discussions about BuckTommy and Buddie and which one should be happening. Everyone has strong feelings on but I think everyone needs to step back and remember that Buck, Tommy, and Eddie aren't real. They're fictional. Oliver, Lou, and Ryan are real people. I've seen people using Ryan's interviews to suggest he's pushing this platonic storyline because he's homophobic, I've seen people being really dismissive of what he wants and saying making his character queer could be so much more important and impactful. And I think we need to stop with that type of language and discussion moving forward.

I'm not saying you have to get behind and support the storyline he vocally wants. We're all allowed to have our own opinions on what we want to happen with these characters. But we can be more respectful, more understanding and more validating when we discuss them. Especially now that we have this huge piece of context to why he feels this way that we've been missing. Because this is something personal for him and I do not want him to come across people invalidating that or downplaying it's importance. He doesn't deserve that after being so honest and open with us in an attempt to help others.

Other than that, we didn't really get any other updates on what is happening with this week's 911. I think they're likely saving most of the promotions for next week to hype up the finale.

We will be getting the full podcast tomorrow with Ryan and I encourage everyone to go support him. So I'll likely discuss that tomorrow along with giving any other updates that I come across and numbers on the BuckTommy reel.

#911 abc #evan buckley #bucktommy #tommy kinard #tevan #firepilot #eddie diaz #buddie #ryan guzman

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moonit3 · 15 hours

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Yandere boss x male reader husband, I imagine Leonard would force you to marry him and his sexual advances would be more aggressive on the honeymoon.

You refuse to sleep with him and Leonard decides to remind you of your nuptial duties.

He drugs you and decides to force himself on you

HONEYMOON OF NIGHTMARES

⟡ cw: male yandere, heavy themes!, amab! reader, nsfw, noncon, virginity lose (from reader’s), sub! reader, top! yandere, blowjob (brief), a.nal, s3x, reader is not having a good time, mention of suicide but nothing happens, forced marriage, bondage(?), handcuffs, drugs and unrealistic expectations of it (i never used it, so i am relying heavily on what Ive learned by reading/ other people experiences and also inventing how long does it take to get under the effect of if, don’t do drugs), please don’t read this if you are weak and tell me if i am forgetting something.

⟡ word count: 2.6 k

⟡ yandere! boss x amab! reader

⟡ notes: sooooo, I being another attempt of writing mlm context in the blog for my dear amab!/male readers that probably feel excluded of the yandere community. please keep in mind that today’s work has heavy elements that might be hurtful to some people and can not be tolerated in real life! remember that, guys. I don’t want anyone to come here and tell me that I should die, so if you feel uncomfortable with the topics added in the content warning, don’t read this. Beware of my spelling mistake here.

the old fairytale of of true love never failed to make you smile. it’s magical the old times when grandma would recite stories of her memories about two individuals who despite everything they always ended together, a simple but beautiful tale.

your always dreamed of marrying a prince when growing up and it slightly shocked when grandma heard that for the first time. a man marrying another one? that is new for me, but it is fine. the tailor will sell two suits in one session, so it’s even better for them… now go get me a cigarette before my soup opera starts, kid. her words comforted you when no one knew about your interest in men when you were younger. initially, you believed she would hate you like the rest of the family did when learning about that part of you, but she stayed at your side regardless of what other people said about you. she was your number supporter til her last breath, always saying that you should marry anyone if you truly loved them.

her words were sweet, consistently making you smile when the world was against you. so you can easily imagined grandma would be devastated if she was alive, hearing about your engagement with a man who you don’t love. a man who took everything away from you, the main responsible for taking your freedom away.

it was dreadful that you were coerced into saying yes in front of the people he invited to the wedding, unfamiliar faces as you refused to invite your family (to avoid them seeing you so ridiculously depressed) and forced to place a fake smile on the lips.

leonard made you write wedding vows, which you hadn’t much option than lying about your true feelings towards him.

my love towards him is like a star, burning me inside and always there even though it can’t be seen nor touched.

you hate him, you despise him! the many fantasies you have of killing leonard with your hands are more common than you want to admit. and by marrying him, this dream won’t stop anytime soon.

like a charming prince, he helped me go through many difficult moments in my life and always is around to save me when i am in trouble.

he is the problem. leonard gives you more trouble since you were forced to step down from the company, making you work from the from his own mansion as a way to keep an eye on you.

every time you touch me, i feel butterflies inside my stomach. it’s make me nervous to be able to hug and kiss you as you are real, not an imagination.

you feel nauseous when his hands touched your skin, it’s never fails to make you tremble when leonard just approaches you and spend minutes holding you in his arms. he never took things further, a blessing, but only because he believes it’s wrong to have his way with you prior the honeymoon.

he made the day you always dreamed of a nightmare, one that you won’t wake up anytime soon. the little boy who often daydreamed of marrying a prince who would be your hero, your hero in shining armor never came, instead, leonard stole away from any possibility of you meeting your hero. you are trapped in the deepest part of the dungeon with him being the warden.

after saying yes to the priest, the rest of ceremony was a success for leonard, who couldn’t leave you alone for one second, like someone has glued him to you. it’s irritating that people seen him as a hopeless romantic when holding your hand to cut the cake for the guests, it’s offense when they began thinking you are just shy to show off affection to him when public when you hate his presence in general. when will this party ended? you want nothing more than drown in those expensive drinks to forget about today, perhaps to never wake up and stay forever dreaming that you married the prince not him. but that never happened.

leonard didn’t allow any alcoholic beverages in the wedding nor during the after party and don’t even think there was a single drop of those expensive champagne there, there was nothing to take your mind away from him. you will have to endure him during the first night as a couple, but hey, the luxury room he rent for a week in another country has a great view of the city.

“i can’t— i don’t think i’m going to—“ a loud moan interrupted yours words, making you feel like an idiot to not be able to hold it back. it’s disgusting that leonard is enjoying touching you even you plead him to stop. “please, please, please stop!”

the tears coming out of your eyes aren’t stopping, not when he keeps stroking your cock without pausing. the sounds coming from your lips are beautiful, perfectly matching the lewd sound that your pretty cock is making after an orgasm. it’s adorable how you fail to move away from his hands, trapped by those tightly handcuffs preventing you from escape the headboard, how humiliating is you for not putting more of a fight.

his left hand going up and down at your member, not moving away his glance away from the tears coming out of your pretty eyes, it remind him of those choker pearl he plans to gift you after this special night. and the crimson coming out of your skin from his bites is a great reminder that he needs to get you that long red coat to match his dark suit, it will make both of you look a perfect couple during the next conference.

he can already imagine the many opportunities to show off to the world as his darling husband. would the media be shocked that he is dating a man? probably not, tabloids already had rumors of him dating someone of his gender during his teenager. however, he can already imagine the public’s reactions when hearing that he turned his employer into his husband.

they would see it as a fairy tale coming true. a rich man who has fallen in love with his own worker, the same who came from a struggling background after being kicked out for his sexuality, only to be saved by him. he will gain more popularity and power over the public, making the two of you prominent figures in the public eyes. but before that happens, he needs to make you submit to him.

he takes his hand away from your leaking cock, already proud of himself for making you come a few times to his touch. beautiful to see that you’ve dirty yourself with your own fluids, it would be perfect to just take a photo and frame it at his home office, but he decided to go to a different approach.

“please, stay still. my love.” his hands prevent you from move away, not having option than feeling his tongue licking your own fluids away from your pelvic area. “you taste delicious, [name].”

his eyes stare at you face, seeing how you are holding back your moans to prevent leonard from hear the sweet melody coming out your lips. you would expect him to be angry at your stupid act of rebellion, probably gaining a slap or two from him to make you stop acting like this, but instead he just smiles.

you watch his hands approach your face, holding it like a you are nothing more than a fragile piece of glass that can easily break at any moment. his thumb fondle your lower lips, opening your mouth to force you swallow dry something you don’t know what, yet by feeling the weird sensation around your throat going down your stomach is probably a pill. and by how your mind began distorting the room, you can guess that he drugged you.

the walls began twisting themselves when your eyes try to focus on the many pieces of art placed on them. your breathing gets more intense than before, taking more seconds to force your lungs to take action to keep yourself calm and your body is getting hotter by every second goes by. it’s a struggle to keep calm when realizing that leonard did it to make you weaker to his touch, preventing you from putting a fight. you wish that your mind would stop thinking of what he is going to do next.

knowing that you won’t try again to escape, he spread your legs apart to make him finally see the view he was dreaming of. and by how it looks, leonard knows that you are complete untouched, meaning that he will be your first one.

he grabs a bottle of lubricant at the nightstand and applies it to your entrance, finding it cute that your already began shaking on it own by the coldness of it. gently, leonard puts one finger inside your tiny gap to let him feel your inner walls. a blood-curdling scream of yours took over the room when his finger started moving in and out, making your body mess around the bed as a futile effort to get away.

“h-hah—!“ you have become more sensitive to the drug. feeling leonard’s finger touching your walls and trying to get as deeper as possible is driving your mind insane. “plea— please…stop!”

of course, your pleadings went unheard. instead of having mercy on you, leonard pressed another finger inside your hole and hold your hips to prevent you from squirm your hips away. he is having fun by seeing the pain on your face, you know that, and feeling his fingers’ speed increases is not something you are going to handle well.

you can’t form any coherent words to speak up, the pain coming from your entrance is the only think you can focus on. it’s too much,you have a feeling that you might die during the next part of tonight’s plan if leonard doesn’t get some senses that your body is going to break down if he continues like this.

another load came out of your cock shortly after, resulting in leonard takes his fingers out of your entrance and to make a small distance between you and him. he stares down at you, admiring what you’ve become because of him, a completely mess with full of tears, greenish bruises all over your skin and fluids on your stomach.

“i think you are ready to take me.” leonard said. “you are probably nervous for me being your first, but don’t worry, i will be gently for this one.”

you couldn’t move your body anymore, not with the drugs finally taking control over your entire body, but your teary eyes can catch the glimpse of leonard’s cock. it’s thick and already hard, ready to penetrate you at any moment from now.

“w-wait…” between sobbing, you managed to form a proper word. “i n-not— don’t want t-this.”

leonard ignored your words once again, this time your heart is beating faster than before, fully aware that after tonight, you will be his forever.

he spreads you wider to see that your hole is filled with the lubricant from before and now it’s a little more relaxed, but are you relaxed? your body who seems to be more than ready to take leonard’s full strength, but the tears and pleading of yours are showing that you aren’t ready for it, yet you know leonard isn’t going to care about your words. at least, not tonight.

positioning himself in the middle of your legs, leonard carefully sank his cock into you deeply. a slow process that made you stay still as you feared that moving would only make things worse.

you tried to hold back from drooling as leonard began thrusting in and out of your entrance. quite humiliating that your body is acting this way, so dumb and unable to hold it back. as much you wish to space out of this situation, pretending that you could be somewhere else with someone that isn’t your husband, your mind can only focus on the man above you.

hands on your waist, with zero chance to remove them away from you as he fears you would simply vanish from existence. eyes on your expression, loving how desperate and precious you look with tears and drool over you face. his cock inside you, not daring to stop rocking his hips into you to hear the moans coming from you.

he continues to move inside you, a little bit more fast and harder than before, as he remembers that you are probably sensitive from coming two times. leonard knows that you are getting closer to a third release and that one would send you to sleep, so he needs to take things extra hard to not let you lose the fun part.

“t-too fast!” your hips are going to be bruised by the harsh thrusts and how strongly leonard is handling you. throwing a leg of your above his shoulder isn’t going to end well, you know that. “l-leo—leonard!”

your cock began twitching and leaking cum again over your stomach, dirtying yourself even more as your pleadings continues to be unheard by him. it’s making you dizzy feeling another orgasm coming up and the drugs make the effect worse for your mind, who is begging for this to endure just a little longer to avoid any more punishment from leonard.

it didn’t took much time for the final climax to arrive. your entire body feels so full after leonard came inside your entrance, too much to handle as some of his fluids ooze out of you, slowly ooze from your entrance.

“you did a good job, [name].” his voice. you mind barely registered that he is speaking, the entire rooms only gets more and more entangled when the handcuffs are finally removed. despite not seeing your wrists, you can feel the bruises around it from being tied up so tightly by him during hours and hours.

he lays next to you, bringing you closer to his body to cuddle you. his large arms wrapping around you, an extra layer of prevention to keep you from escaping and to feel your body’s warmth. leonard would never admit out loud, but he loves seeing you like this, so tiredly that he could do anything with you regardless of your approval. but he wouldn’t do this, at least, not in a special night like this one.

“next time, you will ride me. doesn’t that sound good?” he knows you won’t answer him, not when you are struggling to keep your eyes open, yet he still wants to see for how long you keep fighting your body’s desire to fall asleep, so why not playing with it? “or we could go for another round, you know, to build some extra stamina for future times like this. maybe you could just sleep and i keep going.”

between your quietly sobbing, you manage to voice a ‘no’, trying to keep you from getting hurt again by leonard. he could use your body for his pleasure alone another time, but tonight, you can feel all of your muscles and mind worn out by him.

you don’t want more of him, you want to fall asleep and dream about being saved by a knight in a shining armor who will tell you that everything was just a nightmare, that you are going to be alright in someone’s arms. but you know what to expect when waking up tomorrow in the arms of the monster that owns you.

“sleep well, my love.” he planted a kiss right behind your ear. “tomorrow, we will spend more time together as a newly married couple.”

@moonit3 . don’t repost it, don’t modify it, don’t plagiarize, translate it without my permission.

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leclerc-s · 10 hours

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karma - part seven

series masterlist // previous // next

ollie bearman IS SHE PREGNANT? ARE YOU PREGNANT??

liam lawson who's pregnant?

yuki tsunoda WHO'S HAVING A BABY??

max verstappen me. charles is the father.

natalia leclerc i can't believe this is how i had to find out my husband is cheating on me.

sebastian vettel what the hell is wrong with you two?

max verstappen well that depends how much time do you have?

natalia leclerc ooh too much.

daniel ricciardo we don't have enough time to go over everything.

ollie bearman WHO'S HAVING A BABY??

arthur leclerc AM I GOING TO BE AN UNCLE?? TELL ME I'M GOING TO BE AN UNCLE?

kimi räikkönen🤰🏻??

natalia leclerc

arthur leclerc i may have just told maman she was going to be a grandma...

natalia leclerc ARTHUR LECLERC WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!!

arthur leclerc CHARLES YOUR WIFE IS PLOTTING MY MURDER!!

charles leclerc MAMAN IS CALLING ME ARTHUR!! YOU DESERVE TO DIE!!!

ollie bearman I'M GONNA BE A BROTHER!!

liam lawson to a dog oliver. ollie bearman IT'S A BABY LIAM!! MY BABY BROTHER!! AND DON'T CALL ME OLIVER, LAWSON!!

yuki tsunoda awww when can i meet the baby??

daniel ricciardo aww what a cute baby.

sebastian vettel all this drama for a dog??

charles leclerc not just a dog seb!! his name a leo and he's our baby!! according to twitter he's now your grandchild.

kimi räikkönen ha! grandpa!

max verstappen aww, thank you for naming your dog after me.

natalia leclerc HE'S NOT NAMED AFTER YOU VERSTAPPEN!!

charles leclerc leo leclerc just sounds better than anything else.

max verstappen oh be quiet we all know you named him after me. i'm going to tell everyone you named him after me.

daniel ricciardo he's already started telling people.

natalia_leclerc posted new stories

since apparently i'm pregnant, enjoy my ultrasound picture. i've got my mother-in-law calling me because arthur told her i'm pregnant. pretty little boy. this is a picture of our baby after birth.

liked by natalia_leclerc, sukiwaterhouse, sebastianvettel and others

charles_leclerc welcome home baby leo 🤍 🤍 🤍

tagged: natalia_leclerc

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user1 HIS NAME IS LEO? THAT'S SO FUCKING CUTE!!

natalia_leclerc that's our baby boy.

charles_leclerc i want a girl next. a real one. maxverstappen1 please remember that i share a drivers room wall and a hotel wall room with you two. natalia_leclerc ooh more reason to make you miserable. don’t enjoy it too much verstappen

user2 i demand content with roscoe and leo.

sukiwaterhouse you just had to tie her down someway didn't you?

charles_leclerc WE'VE BEEN DATING FOR FIVE YEARS! WE'RE MARRIED! I DIDN'T TIE HER DOWN!!

rileykeough i demand to meet baby leo as soon as possible.

natalia_leclerc of course love of my life. charles_leclerc i am doomed to third wheel my entire marriage. joris__trouche welcome to my world. i've been stuck here for a long time.

user3 aww they're parents now!

user4 parents are parents guys!!

user5 aww what a cute puppy!!

landonorris sir, that is our child now. he is the grid's child.

charles_leclerc back off, that's my child. not yours. alex_albon you could never become albonpets so suck on that leclerc

olliebearman i demand to meet my sibling!!

user6 when the heck did they adopt ollie? user7 probably somewhere between bahrain and abu dhabi last year.

liked by charles_leclerc, rileykeough, olliebearman and others

natalia_leclerc baby leo with a gift from baby ollie 🤎

tagged: charles_leclerc, olliebearman

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olliebearman my baby brother!!

charles_leclerc my sons!!

arthur_leclerc SHE'S STILL TRYING TO KILL ME!!

natalia_leclerc YOU TOLD MAMAN I WAS PREGNANT!! YOU GOT HER EXCITED AND I HAD TO BE THE ONE TO TELL HER WE GOT A PUPPY!! athur_leclerc PLEASE STOP!!

user8 aww that's the cutest baby boy ever!

user9 bless ollie for getting baby leo a stuffy

rileykeough i demand you bring him over the next time we see each other

natalia_leclerc yes, of course my love.

user10 cutest family ever.

user11 the puppy belly!! it's cute!!

user12 oh the puppy belly is so fucking cute!!

alex_albon i will steal that puppy if you bring him to the paddock

natalia_leclerc well now i'm now i'm no longer letting him tag along. georgerussell63 BOO!! BRING THE BABY!!

maxverstappen1 you named him after me!!

charles_leclerc STOP SAYING THAT!! maxverstappen1 you did!! admit it!! user13 the couple's quarrels stay on the track guys! user14 i don't know how kimi puts up with them

sebastian vettel for the love of god. the next time someone asks you about sainz. do not answer the question.

charles leclerc the people have a right to know how i felt!

sebastian vettel by saying, 'once mattia left it was only a matter of time before he left' is not a good look charles.

natalia leclerc but did he lie?

sebastian vettel you zip it, you're next.

max verstappen all she said was, 'i'm glad that fraud is gone.'

natalia leclerc and in my defense, i was talking about mattia.

sebastian vettel kimi, please deal with your drivers.

kimi räikkönen did they lie?

daniel ricciardo i personally think this is great.

yuki tsunoda i know oscar has let out a sigh of relief.

arthur leclerc what is his problem with oscar? someone on twitter said it was because oscar posed a threat to carlando. i think they're right.

liam lawson i saw that it was because he wants his job at mclaren back.

natalia ruiz he hates oscar because he hates me. that is my son!

sebastian vettel you're all children.

ollie bearman okay grandpa. kimi räikkönen 😂😂

taglist: @vroomvroommuppett @charlesgirl16 @someoneintheworld @iconicbookstore @evans-dejong @minmira95 @d3kstar @lollie0024 @magical-spit @rockyhayzkid @weekendlusting @ironspdy @namgification @moonyzsworld @emilyval1 @lorenakaspersen @spilled-coffee-cup @butterfly-lover @blushmimi @lovely-blackinnon @six-call @bingewatche @vroomvroom95 @lesliiieeeee @fletchingarcher @casperlikej @minmira95 @nichmeddar @chezmardybum @nikfigueiredo @buckybarnessweetheart @scuderiadevils @bellalilo @landonorizzz @sargeantdumbass @seesaw-it @evie-119 @doodlehunz @dark-night-sky-99 @si1ver06

not taggable: @janeholt3 @Fall-bambi @leanneg97 @asparklysoul @gemnetjournal @mgmoore @itscrzy @alymeddar @raavadakedavra @solidalibi @bi-bitch-bi @a-beaverhausen

click here to be added to the karma taglist

¡leclerc-s speaks! can you tell at what point i decided i didn't want to write for every race and decided to summarize it? and of course i had to include little leo somehow!!

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #karma series #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #f1 x female oc #charles leclerc x female oc

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a-substantial-trash-pile · 1 day

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hey guess what. it's finally time for my Stardew Valley Loredump. i’m about to ramble about my farmer and yo-yo/yoba and shane in a probably long-ass, disjointed post because i have a problem ok. not expecting anyone to read it all of course—just want to finally write these brainstorming shenanigans down. the loredump will be below the cut below the image 👇 (WARNING: IT'S LONG):

SAMUEL IZAWA:

*samuel is 28 years old, pan, japanese okinawan (no im not self projecting hahaha), and goes by he/they. main thing is that they’re from “our world” where stardew valley is a video game, but he died and ended up in the stardew universe. because i think isekai tropes are fun and silly. as the player, samuel can do things others in the stardew world can’t do, such as:

summon the in-game HUD that’s only visible to him, so he can see health/energy levels and inventory and all that.

speaking of inventory, it’s essentially a pocket dimension samuel can shove stuff in. the inventory doesn’t really care about size/weight/etc as long as it’s something the system considers an “item.” so like samuel can put a whole ass four poster bed in there but he can’t do that to a person or a whole house. samuel just needs to touch the item to make it disappear into his inventory. he can then summon it back out when he needs it. the game’s inventory limit system remains the same. samuel gets 12 slots on their own, but if they have a bag on them it increases to 36.

can access the player menu you can normally access in game. so like profile, skills, collections, relationships, etc are all there. no options or quit tab though. having the relationship tab is a nightmare for samuel, who has major insecurities about what people think of him. that tab is a quantifiable measure on how much people like him. it a real brain demon for him to know it exists and is right there for him to access anytime.

can see the “stats” of food and healing items. hp/energy recovery amounts, buffs, etc.

*funny thing is that samuel has never played SDV himself and only has knowledge based on what he’s heard and seen online secondhand. ironically he was planning on playing the game for the first time before the whole dying thing ruined it. they can’t even remember how they died, but it doesn’t bother them as much as they think it should. they didn’t leave much behind in that life.

*anyway, i’m talking a lot of game terms here, but don’t get it twisted. while samuel has all these game systems going on, the SDV world is very much a real one that doesn’t normally work by that logic. by that i mean time flows normally like in our world and there isn’t just 4 months in a year. things exist outside the valley. there’s a whole planet of places and people.

*luckily samuel has help in navigating this new world in the form of yo-yo the junimo, who is the first living thing samuel sees when he first wakes up in that joja cubicle. yo-yo helps explain a lot of things and guide samuel around in its own abrasive way. he’s also there to be like, “hey i gave you a second chance at life so you kinda owe me actually. sign this contract.” and samuel, who is a pushover and also confused, is just like, “ok.” (yo-yo sounds like danny devito btw. because i think it’s funny.)

*i call the contract a “magical girl contract” because that’s essentially what it is. samuel gets access to extra powers/abilities on top the stuff he can already do as a player. in return he fights monsters n shit for yo-yo and generally does things for them that they can’t do easily on their own. the extra benefits include:

higher pain tolerance. which isn’t always a good thing. especially when you tend to not be great with self-preservation like samuel is.

can heal most injuries by just eating/drinking stuff to regain hp.

yo-yo can teleport the both of them around as needed, but it’s tiring and it drains a lot of magic. distance matters too.

yo-yo can spawn items but it drains magic as well. the more valuable/rare the item, the more draining it is. spawning items is already a magic-intensive thing in the first place. also yo-yo isn’t creating the item out of nothing. they’re actually randomly taking it from wherever it already exists in the world. for example, say yo-yo “spawns” a jar of pickles. somebody in the world is going to open their fridge and discover their jar of pickles is missing or maybe a grocery store will have a sudden empty spot on its shelf. yo-yo doesn’t have control of where the items are taken from (or so they claim).

samuel and yo-yo’s magic pools became connected so they can both do more than they could do on their own before. this is one of the reasons why yo-yo wanted a contract with samuel, who has a larger magic pool than normal due to being from another world. but it’s possible for one side to use up all the magic for the both of them.

*samuel’s personality can be summed up as Awkward People-Pleasing Tired Sad Garbage Dork. either he’s dressed like a grandparent in sweaters and turtlenecks or he’s wearing a button up shirt with the collar undone and jeans. they usually have their neck covered in public to hide the mark of yoba embedded there. he has a “resting bitch face” as some may call, but that’s just because his brain is busy over-analyzing 193828 different things. he loves being outside in the grass and dirt, looking at bugs n shit. he’s also a nerd who likes to play video games and ramble about the lore in them (he likes RPGs the most, but if the game’s got a good story and cool world, he’s into it). they like to do things with their hands like model building/painting. in their new stardew life, they get into woodcarving after willy teaches them the basics (he carves shane a little chicken).

*samuel does NOT know how to say “no.” absolute pushover. their self-worth is based on how much they’re liked by others, which isn’t healthy obviously. he has a fear that the only way he can be liked is by being useful. he’s scared that he is inherently a bad and selfish person, because he can’t say for sure if he’s helping others purely out of kindness or because it just makes him feel better about existing. deep down there’s anger/frustration that’s accumulated over the years, anger towards himself and also others because he’s always doing things for other people—going above and beyond—but it never feels like enough. at the same time though, they hate it when these thoughts come up because they believe that you shouldn’t go into helping somebody expecting that you’ll get something out of it. he hates how much of a hypocrite he is. he hates how he bases so much of his self-worth on the opinions of others, but feels helpless to it. they usually just push these emotions down because samuel feels guilty about them. how can they be a good person if they’re thinking like this? how can they deserve to exist with this mindset? however they get a chance to let out the anger/bitterness/frustration through fighting monsters. kind of disassociating in a way. this also isn’t a good thing because his demeanor is much colder and scarier during combat. having someone who’s felt powerless for so long suddenly gain power is a dangerous thing.

*this mindset when monster fighting shatters when samuel meets krobus and realizes that monsters aren’t just the simple enemy NPCs their brain had been automatically categorizing them as. guilt galore. he gets real depressed about that for a while but yo-yo, krobus, and shane are there to help him.

*SPEAKING OF SHANE… it’s crush at first sight for samuel because hot damn is shane their type. i mean just look at him. mamma mia. haha anyyyway, they first meet at the stardrop saloon. samuel’s waiting at the bar for his to-go order near where shane is drinking. shane’s looking sad, so samuel gives in and decides they’ll start a convo to maybe distract him from whatever’s bothering him. samuel employs the “crack a dumb joke to hide the fact that i’m nervous because i’m talking to a hot person and then use that opening to introduce myself” strat. shane, being an asshole, is like, “oh so you’re the new farmer. here’s a tip: don’t bother me.” samuel takes 999 damage and their brain immediately goes “THIS IS MY FAULT I FUCKED UP like who wants to be talked to by a stranger when they’re sad goddammit why am i so bad at this?!!” it’s overall not a great first impression. after that, samuel tries to avoid shane out of embarrassment, but circumstances keep making them run into each other. for instance, samuel works a lot with marnie with her being a mentor figure to him in animal husbandry, so he and shane have a lot of opportunity to interact through that (plus marnie is secretly trying to get them closer to each other). through these meetings and shenanigans, samuel and shane get to know each other better until one day they’re friends. then good friends. then best friends. then kiss friends. then marry friends. :)

YOBA (A.K.A. YO-YO):

*yo-yo is ????? years old and goes by any pronouns but most of the time it's it/they.

*yo-yo is actually THE yoba, but they’re not the completely benevolent creator-of-all-things humans have made them out to be. maybe they were in the past, but now they’re selfish and rude and swear a lot. but they do still care, even if they don’t admit it (tsundere-ass). yoba is currently stuck in the form of a little junimo and is substantially weakened because it gave too much of itself away to the world in the past and got burned for it. because the world kept taking and taking. and now there’s war and pollution and shit and yoba/yo-yo is maybe just a teensy tiny bit angry and bitter now. but it’s ok because now they got this human from another reality to help them reclaim the pieces of itself. and maybe along the way relearn how to love the world again.

*oh also yoba didn’t create the whole planet like the creation story claims. they’re technically an alien that came across a young planet full of life and decided to stay and help it develop.

*main reason yo-yo made a contract with samuel is because it needs help finding/reclaiming the pieces of itself. pieces can usually be found in strong monsters empowered by the piece. this isn’t always the case though. sometimes it’s in an ancient artifact. sometimes it’s in a specific place like a temple. sometimes it’s in a person.

*samuel doesn’t have to deal with having an existential crisis about yo-yo, since he’s from our world where yoba doesn’t even exist as a god. yo-yo claims to be the one responsible for bringing samuel over into the stardew universe, but there are holes in their story. where did yoba even find the power to do such a thing when they’re in such a weakened state? mysterious.

*the first time yoba reveals itself to shane is kind of chaotic. it’s in the middle of the night when yo-yo suddenly appears in shane’s room, grabs his face with its little stick arms and yells, “WAKE UP!!! YOUR BOYFRIEND IS IN MORTAL PERIL!!!” shane is like, “WHAT THE F–” it was an act of desperation on yo-yo’s part, because samuel was in trouble and shane was the only one it could think of going to for help. essentially samuel meets something Bad in the deep mines, something that takes him out of commission and puts him in a trance state while draining his lifeforce. y’know, the classic kind of trance state where you need to figure out how to get the person back–how to snap them out of it. yo-yo tried and failed, so that’s where shane comes in. it’s the classic “love-interest-breaks-main-character-out-of-mind-control-with-sheer-power-of-love” trope. except shane does punch samuel during it. lovingly. in the face. hey it works ok. after the chaos is over and everyone’s safe and gathered together, samuel and yo-yo explain everything to shane (well more like samuel explains everything while yo-yo wishes outloud that they had their memory erasing powers back). shane, who is canonically an atheist, learns that this talking pottymouthed jerkass apple is actually THE yoba and is just like, “yeah. this might as well happen.” and then he remains atheist because what else are you going to do when you learn that god is a talking pottymouthed jerkass apple who calls you a bitch and is also responsible for your partner having to go do dangerous shit. he and yo-yo have a rocky relationship at first to say the least. but once they both realize how much the other cares about samuel, things get a little better.

*yeah, yoba may be a bitch and they may be angry and they may be bitter, but they really do care, even if they try to convince themselves otherwise. even though so much got taken from it, it still cares about humans and dwarves and shadow people and everything else on the planet. and when it eventually comes down to it, yoba will step up to protect what it loves, even if it means losing everything again.

SHANE FINCH:

*this post was technically supposed to just be about my farmer and yo-yo’s lore and stuff, but i gotta give some personal headcanons i have about shane… like for instance his last name is “finch.” because i thought the bird theme was cute. he’s 29 years old, bi, and half asian, half white (in our world that asian half is korean). i’m not being specific because i don’t know if korea even exists in the stardew world, since all we know in the game is that there’s a “ferngill republic” and a “gotoro empire.” i was thinking of just headcanoning that stardew’s planet is essentially the same as earth. so like most of the same countries/nations exist except the history diverged a bit along the way, leading to the ferngill republic and gotoro empire. OK SORRY for the tangent—back on topic.

*so shane is a trans man who started transitioning back in high school. he had two best friends who were very supportive and really helped him on his journey to figure himself out. those two friends were like family to him. it was good that he had this support because his parents were always pretty shitty and shane transitioning just made them act even shittier. the only good family member of shane’s is marnie, who was supportive, but she lived far away, was busy, AND wasn’t on good terms with her sister (shane’s mom), so shane didn’t get to see her much.

*the moment shane became a legal adult, he got away from his parents, finding a place with his two best friends and moving in together. oh and his friends’ names were rosa and heath. should’ve probably mentioned that earlier oops. shane, rosa, and heath go to the same college together, suffer student loans, graduate, etc. haven’t thought of what shane would get a degree in yet—most likely something “generic” because he’s unsure of what he wants to do himself (i feel u bby).

*ok so rosa and heath were dating since high school, but they were so comfortable with shane and vice versa that things never got that awkward living together. however when rosa and heath got married (“yoba, FINALLY,” shane would say), shane felt like it was time to find his own place, much to the devastation of his bffs. the apartment ended up close to where rosa and heath lived of course—the couple made sure of it (“stop backseating my apartment hunting!” “MAKE US”).

*rosa and heath get pregnant and have a healthy baby girl that they name jasmine. i headcanon jas as black (from heath’s side) and portuguese (rosa’s side). everyone is thrilled about the baby. shane was immediately offered godfather role and he happily accepted. jas was the cutest baby ever and he adored her. he babysat jas all the time.

*jas was 4 years old when rosa and heath tragically passed away in a car accident. they were coming home from a business dinner when they lost control of their car on some black ice and slid into oncoming traffic. shane was babysitting jas when he got the call. in the span of one cold winter night, shane and jas’s world shattered.

*rosa and heath didn’t have any reliable relatives either. those relatives only came to take the money and belongings. shane was the only one jas had, so he adopted her. he tried his best to pick up the pieces. he really did. he lasted for a year trying to raise a kid on his own with the salary of a dead-end job, but he knew the situation wasn’t good with the money and how much his mental health was spiraling. he knew he and jas were in dire need of more support (“jas deserves better than this”). so he turned to the one person he had left to rely on: his aunty marnie. and that’s how shane and jas ended up in pelican town.

*shane’s joja jacket was actually originally rosa’s. rosa worked as an accountant for joja and would get free promotional items all the time from the company. the jacket was one of the only things she actually ended up using because “it’s pretty comfy for being joja bs.” she would wear it all the time, much to her more fashion-conscious husband’s chagrin (yet he would patch up any holes she’d get in it anyway). after rosa died, shane kept her jacket. there were a lot of memories in it.

~~~

ok that’s it for now. if anyone actually read all that, thank you for even wasting your time to process my ramblings. i’m sorry it’s so fucking long like jfc.

*who is mr. qi?

#stardew valley #stardew valley shane #stardew valley farmer #sdv shane #sdv farmer #sdv yoba #ocs #long post #loredump

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the-clumsywitchtarot · 1 day

Text

Pick-a-Card Reading: What do You Need to Release Right Now?

Pile 1 Pile 2 Pile 3

Cards

The King of Swords (Reversed)

Seven of Wands

King of Pentacles

This pile needs to let go of feeling like they've never done enough. I feel like you are someone that is diligent and puts their time and effort into almost any and everything that they do. But I feel like you have a hard time letting go and will continue to overthink something long after it's been completed, agonizing over what you could've done better. For instance, if you turn in an assignment at college or university you'll be thinking about how you could've better written the essay only to receive a 100% on it.

On a side note, I also feel like this pile needs to start listening to their intuition more, you are wise. Of course be careful when necessary. But don't completely dismiss your intuition.

Cards

Ace of Cups

Three of Swords (Reversed)

Seven of Pentacles (Reversed)

This is a very interesting pile because I'm getting two different things for some people that will choose this pile I'm getting that you need to release feeling bad about how you express your emotions and for others I'm getting that you need to stop dismissing your emotions.

For the first set of people (those that are made to feel bad about how they express their emotions) consider ignoring those around you that ridicule you for either being too emotional or not emotional enough. Everyone expresses their emotions differently, you have to do what works best for you, if you are extremely emotional, that's fine. And if you are more reserved with your emotions, that's perfectly fine too, please do not let anyone pressure you into changing your emotional expression.

For the second set of people that may have chosen this pile (those that dismiss their emotions). You may need to learn that it is okay and safe to feel and that it's probably better to feel your emotions to avoid issues down the road. I'm not saying that you need to be a puddle of tears and snot, but consider taking the time to actually feel instead of just dismissing an emotion as soon as it arises.

For anyone that chose this pile, if you feel that you might need help consider speaking with a licensed therapist to address any emotional issues that you may have. And if that's the case I wish you all the very best and I hope you receive absolutely everything that you need. 🩷

Cards

Eight of Swords

The Lovers

Queen of Cups

For this pile I'm getting that you need to release the feeling that you need to be perfect or fit some standard that is hard for you to conform to for a partner. This may be for an existing partner or one that you hope to attract. I mainly feel like this is about your physical appearance but I also see that you have some quirks that you feel like you need to hide in order to keep/make your partner happy. But what you don't see is that this person loves you for you, your appearance, those weird things that you try to hide from them, all of it. They find you captivating and they love that you're whole and complete. You're not draining to be around and in this person's eyes you are the whole package. Let's put it this way, if you were anything else in this person's life you'd be their favorite version of it, like if you were a city you'd be their favorite city. If you were a drink you'd be their favorite drink, etcetera, etcetera (a super weird way of describing how much they love you, I know but it's what I got 😊).

Stop thinking that you are not enough and need to be refined in some way to be loved.

Please let me know if your reading resonated and always remember not to make a decision based on a reading unless it's one you feel completely comfortable with. Thank you for visiting my tarot page!

All the Best to You,

Erika, The Clumsy Witch

#the clumsy witch #the clumsy witch tarot #tarot #pick a card tarot reading #pick a card #pick a card tarot #tarotblr #tarot blog #tarot reader #tarot readers of tumblr #black witches of tumblr #witches of tumblr #release #black tarot readers

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toriangeli · 3 days

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Re: Daniel's flashback of Armand

I know our minds jumped to the "Armand is Alice" theory. At least, mine did. But that explains nothing about why Daniel thinks of that specific memory. It seems like such a non-sequitur, him remembering a story about selling his dad's dirty magazines in middle school. What's also weird is Armand telling him about it.

We know the original interview was traumatic for Daniel, so I have two theories:

Armand is trying to calm Daniel down from some kind of panic by using grounding techniques. This would be weird because grounding techniques are usually a lot more physical, involving the senses to bring one back to the present reality. Why this would be relevant to his proposal memories, I'm not sure.

Armand has Daniel in a state of hypnosis and is implanting a memory. Why is he implanting a memory about selling dirty magazines? No clue. It doesn't seem like it serves a purpose--unless it's part of a larger narrative.

My usual problem with the "Armand is lying about everything" assumption is that Armand and vampires in general in the books don't do that much lying. Like, they'll do these short-term deceptions (see the second half of Blood Communion), but big ongoing lies are kind of a shit idea when you're immortal because you have to keep up with the lie forever. Armand does lie to Louis about Lestat being dead, and to Lestat about Louis being dead, but other than that, he doesn't do a lot of deliberate misrepresentation of the facts. Self-delusions, denial, hiding shit, but not straight-up lies. This same issue applies to the idea that Armand has been creating false memories for people willy-nilly. Which, I don't think I've seen anyone claim he is doing it willy-nilly, but one can get the impression scrolling through Tumblr seeing various people point to various scenes as being made up by Armand that everyone all the time thinks everything that doesn't make sense to them is Armand dicking with memories again.

However, in this case, Louis and Armand were never supposed to see Daniel again. They can't just rewrite his entire life, obviously, because too many people have met/know Daniel and would be like, "Dude, that so did not happen, what is wrong with you?" but if for some reason they made some big mistake during the interview and needed to fix it, they could impart some kind of narrative that couldn't be disputed or verified by anyone who knows him.

Armand also delivers the "she wanted to say yes" speech with a similar tone, but there's a warmth to it. He doesn't seem particularly emotional, although he's also not the most naturally emotive person. But with how good Assad is at subtle acting, I feel like if Armand was actually talking about himself, there would be some kind of hint to it. Instead, it just seems like Armand feels badly for Daniel (who, let's be fair, was being pretty horrible to Louis) and is trying to comfort him. Still a Devil's Minion hint either way. Armand, at least in the books, doesn't give a shit about randos he has no attachment to getting their feelings hurt. If he wants to comfort Daniel, it's because he's gotten attached.

It's in the flashback that Armand looks emotional. And I want to know why.

But yeah, I think that could be why Daniel flashed back to that weird moment. This prodding about Alice is making him remember some fuckery.

That being said, we still don't have much evidence that this is even a power that exists for these vampires. Maybe Fiction Hypnosis could do it, but idk. We'll see.

#armand #daniel molloy #louis de pointe du lac #iwtv #iwtv amc #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #iwtv s2 #iwtv spoilers

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calaisreno · 18 hours

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Diagnosis

974 words / Prompt: Night / CW: Sad

After, I stayed at Baker Street as long as I could, but every morning that I woke up and found him gone plunged me into darkness. Everything reminded me.

When I couldn’t sleep, I walked. I could never escape the memories, though. If I did sleep, they were there, waiting for me. 221B was full of memories, lacking him. At night, walking was better than lying in bed, sleepless, with the past.

Sometimes at night I saw him. Wherever I walked, he would eventually appear, waiting in a doorway, sitting on a bench in the park. Without speaking, he would fall in step with me.

“You must be a vampire,” I told him one night. “I only see you after dark.”

Vampires are not real, he said.

“Are you real?” I asked.

I could almost hear him smiling. You didn’t invent me.

Once I asked him if he would come home with me. He didn’t answer.

I drank during the day, walked at night, and thought about going back to work.

I slept in his bed. Even to myself, I seemed crazy. I thought about dying.

After a month of this, drinking and walking, it came to me that I had to leave. Mrs Hudson was lovely, but it was impossible for me to explain it to her, so I just left a note, promising to stop in at some point and pick up my things.

I waited until night, took my bag and slipped out the door like a thief. As I looked back, I saw a tall figure in a Belstaff coat following me.

I’d travelled back in time to a depressing bedsit. To a life where Sherlock didn’t exist, where those few months at 221B were something I’d dreamed.

The first day I returned to work at the hospital, a few people stopped me to offer polite condolences. I thanked them, saying the same empty things over and over. After a couple days, nobody reminded me that he was dead and I was alone. On my way home I bought more liquor. Vodka this time, since it didn’t leave much odour on the breath..

Like a sleepwalker, I trudged along for weeks, not sure where I was heading. Life was just eating and sleeping, taking the bus to work and coming home, watching the telly, smiling at people, saying meaningless things.

At night, I walked in a liminal space where he might still exist.

“This patient came in,” I told him one night. “Five years old, high fever, skin peeling right off his palms, bright red eyes.”

He glanced at me, intrigued. Diagnosis?

“Kawasaki disease. Never saw a case before.”

What tipped you off?

“When he stuck out his tongue and I saw how swollen and red it was, I remembered reading about that and it all just clicked together.”

Satisfying when that happens, he said, nodding.

He seemed as restless as I was, and began turning up in places I didn’t expect. There were always the all-night convenience shops, and if I had something to pick up he would follow me inside, just out of eyeshot, reminding me to get the biscuits he liked, recommending jams that I might want to try. What about these chocolate biscuits? Or maybe the ones with apricot filling.

Sometimes he was there in the A&E, making observations and acting bored when I ignored him, as I had to. “Can’t have people thinking I’m losing my mind, talking to people who aren’t there,” I muttered.

I heard him scoff. No, we can’t have that.

But usually I only saw him when I wasn’t working. When I arrived at my sad little flat after work in the early morning, he would be leaning on the door, waiting for me. Almost every day I had a story for him, a new case to describe. He asked odd questions: Did you look at his fingertips? Did his breath smell like ammonia? Did she have freckles, not the usual kind, but darker? Did her skin look waxy?

He’d always said, People see, but they do not observe. As I examined my patients, I tried to use his eyes to observe the things that might solve the case. And gradually I realised that I’d become the go-to doctor for bizarre diagnoses. The Sherlock Holmes of Barts Hospital.

Impressive, Dr. Watson, he said. You’ve become quite the detective.

“You taught me,” I said. “It was from you that I learned to see everything differently. As you always say, the world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance observes.”

He smiled but said nothing. Though he loved receiving compliments, he was stingy in his praise of others. Once he’d praised something, there was no need to say it again just so my ego could bask in it.

At other times, he was critical. You’re rotting your brain, he said one afternoon when I got out of bed and looked at my bloodshot eyes. You have talent — why are you doing this to yourself?

I didn’t point out that he had often rotted his brain with worse things. He had more or better brain cells, I suppose, and often needed to slow his mind down just to keep it from crashing out of exhaustion.

But he was always more solicitous of my health than of his own. He scolded me now. You’re not taking care of yourself.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I’m really fucked up and I don’t know what to do about it. I miss you so much.”

I felt, rather than heard his chuckle. Try to remember all the things that used to annoy you. Try to remember what a prat I was.

“You weren’t,” I told him. “You were wonderful. I love you.”

The room was silent. When I looked up, he was gone.

#mayprompts2024

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sebastianswallows · 12 hours

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The Little Death — 10. Something more than immediate joy

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 2k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw @missbingu @wo-ming-bai @torossosebs

People always want something more than immediate joy or that deeper sense called happiness. This is one of the secrets by which we shape the fulfilment of our designs. — Leadership Secrets of the Bene Gesserit

When she was done tending to Feyd she tried to start her morning but found she hardly could. Still a little dizzy after the night before, and weak and sore, she thought to take a shower but remembered that they were on Arrakis. She’d have a better chance of trying to bathe in gold. Water was more available in the palace than among the natives, even in Arrakeen, but they were all subject to restrictions. All of them except the ruling class. Feyd offered to let her wash with him when he saw how dour and upset she was as she scrubbed her body clean with a rough cloth — a suggestion he made with ample delight — but she wasn’t ready to be so close to him again.

“Are you sure?” he asked, cocking a smooth brow.

“Yes, thank you,” she muttered, feeling bitter that he even offered. She would not find herself in his debt, not for physical comforts at least.

Her mind was still reeling from his viciousness and love throughout the morning. He had been merciless in taking her, and to her shame, he noticed how much she enjoyed it by the end. She was never supposed to enjoy it… At least that wasn’t her plan. It terrified her to think that maybe it was his. And then, as if she hadn’t been confused enough, he’d melted before her like a globe of snow when she sat in his lap to paint his teeth all black. She was quite relieved when he left her for the day, but not before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. His lips felt softer than she thought they should.

Meditation was ruined as well. All her thoughts kept turning to him, to herself, to what they’d done together, to how she submitted. It was all going according to her plan for survival — he liked her and he seemed to like her more and more each day. She should have been happy because with each humiliation she was closer to getting off that planet, maybe even rejoining her Sisters. So why wasn’t she happy…? Why wasn’t she even satisfied with herself and instead felt a disappointment? Every way she turned her thoughts she met a wall built by herself and which she was too scared to pull back down. It was a decision her mind almost made for her that she should wander off outside the palace and into Arrakeen. She knew the lay of the city and could navigate it even blind if need be, even though she hadn’t been there more than a dozen times throughout her stay. I have to be somewhere that doesn’t remind me of him, she thought, justifying it to herself.

The streets of Arrakeen had the quality of being loud and quiet all at once. The stilted Fremen speech had adapted among the city dwellers to something more descriptive, more precise, bordering on rude and yet eminently practical. Low voices carried far between those square stone buildings and the noise of animals and pottery filled in all the empty spaces. The market drew her in by being the noisiest, perfect for forgetting and losing herself in a crowd. With her black robes and the veil around her head, she could pass through unseen, without drawing any glances. Raw artistry surrounded her from every side, simple things with quite elaborate designs, ordinary objects vastly different from anything found now within the Harkonnen-held palace but frail, and temporary, and weak. Nothing caught her eye, but nothing had to. She wasn’t there to buy. But she stopped when something glinted on a seller’s table that snagged on her memory and pulled her in. As she approached, a shadow swathed in black among a sea of grey and brown, she realised why the little broken items were so familiar to her. They were scraps from when the Atreides were there. Leftovers picked up after the sacking… Stolen, perhaps, but certainly with no owner now.

“What does the lady want?” the merchant asked in his weak, raspy voice. Only his eyes were visible, bright blue from between threadbare rags.

“Nothing,” she said, still looking at his wares.

“Cheap,” he said. “One Solari for ten.”

“No, thank you.”

“Twenty.”

“I don’t barter,” she said, shocking him into silence.

Still, she stayed and looked, her eyes traversing the items on their own as if her mind had her own design. Memories of her past life came to her just from the gentle glint of a spoon, its handle beautifully ornate with little silver waves, or a hair comb with two teeth missing, or a half-filled bottle of perfume. She wondered if she’d ever see such things again, items small and beautiful just for beauty’s sake, bright and coloured and loved. She was sick already of Harkonnen black... But these thoughts were unworthy of a Bene Gesserit, and she pulled herself away before the merchant could tempt her into spending her paltry sum of money on a useless thing. And she was in mid-step when she noticed from the corner of her eye a square and greenish thing that had often appeared in her nightmares as a girl. She stopped, head turned toward it to confirm what she was seeing, and remained transfixed.

It was difficult to barter its price down once the merchant saw her interest, and she was reluctant to use the Voice over so small a thing, but she bought it in the end for a fraction of what it was worth, even though it missed its poisoned needle. It was a Gom Jabbar, or more specifically the box that went with one. Impossible to say if it belonged to the ladies Jessica or Margot or to someone else, but it was hers now, and she walked back to the palace with a new spring in her step.

Feyd had asked for one of these at their first meeting, and as she got to know him she learned just how much he enjoyed pain. Their first night together with her between his legs came back as a dizzying flash in her mind and made her blush. She could return to that again now, return to that sense of power over him — and make him happy too. A part of her was also privately excited to see just how he would react. How long he’d last.

She hid herself in some small room upon arriving, far away from the shouting and the crying that came along with the Harkonnen household. And there in dark and silence she took it out, placed her hand in it, and felt the still familiar burn. She had to try it out before she presented it to him. Find out if it worked. Find out if it hurt just as badly as it used to. This is just what he needs, she thought, and perhaps what I need too. The agony ran up her arm, singing her nerves, setting her skin on fire, and settled like a swarm of butterflies at the back of her head. Her body sang with the instinct to pull her hand away — and she could, she could at any time. There was no Gom Jabbar at her neck, no Reverend Mother there. But there was something about knowing that it wasn’t real, something about knowing that she was safe while doing it that made her addicted to the feeling. Her eyes stung, her heart stuttered, and a cry fought its way out of her throat. It was decadent, being able to cry out with no one there to hear it…

When she greeted Feyd that evening in his quarters, he paused at the sight of her. The expression on his face gave her perverted joy.

“Hello,” he greeted gently, slowly letting the doors behind him close. “Good day?”

“You can say that…”

“You’re smiling. Glowing, even…”

She sat upon the windowsill, leaning in a sapless pose against the wall, and watched him as he watched her while he moved across the room. He took his blades out first and placed them on the table, as he often did, and started to undo his armour.

“Let me help you,” she said.

“I thought that sort of thing was beneath you,” he murmured as she came close.

She smiled as she began to pull the straps away, first at his arms and then his chest and then around his waist.

“I only do it,” she whispered, “because I want to.”

“And why do you want to?”

“Do you check your spice for the perfect shade of orange?”

“I have it checked for poison.”

“No you don’t,” she laughed.

“No, I don’t, but perhaps I should.”

She pulled his armour away, smiling — because she knew he was more delighted than suspicious.

“Sit on the bed,” she said softly, brushing a hand across his naked shoulder. “I have a gift for you.”

He seemed to choke on hearing that and a thought like a cloud passed over his mind. She wondered if he had any bad associations with gifts — because he seemed to — but she was in far too good a mood to worry about that now. Feyd listened to her and sat down, and waited with a knot in his throat for her to come back to him in her veil of vaporous black. She didn’t show him what she had until she was right in front of him, kneeling, with the little thing she had hidden in a drawer by the bed.

“You asked me for something on the day we met. Something I can give to you now. Something I think you deserve…”

“You’re awfully vague for someone so happy,” he said archly, leaning back on his strong arms. “Well? What is it?”

“If you’ll be petulant, you’ll get nothing.”

“You better give it to me before I turn petulant, then.”

“Incorrigible…” she muttered.

Feyd didn’t seem too sure he would enjoy her gift until she unfolded the towel she’d hidden it in and revealed the small metal box. He recognised it immediately and his face turned from a frown to a smile to a look of wonder.

“I thought you said —”

“I only found it today. Left by the Atreides, I believe.”

She tilted her head slightly as she looked up at him. He was like a child getting a long-desired birthday present, and she couldn’t help but want to coddle him. And what a dour present it was… To anyone other than a Harkonnen it would’ve been an insult, even an ill omen, or at least exceedingly strange. Not to Feyd though. He reached out for it, his pale hand suspended in the air for just a moment, then pulled away.

“Does it still work?”

“It does.”

“How do you know?” he asked, then paused to look into her eyes. “You tried it,” he noted with a grin. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Not as much as you seem to,” she smirked. “In fact, not much at all. It brings back… uneasy memories.”

“We’ll make new memories together, then.”

How sweet he is, she thought, when he gets what he wants.

She placed it on the bed beside him with her hand above and looked into his eyes. He’d done it before. He knew what followed. He swallowed the knot in his throat and took in deep breaths, steeling himself the way he would before a fight in the arena.

“Do you want to put your hand inside it?” she whispered.

Feyd kept his gaze fixed on the little thing as if he expected a scorpion to crawl out of its mouth. If he were capable of it, he would have blushed.

“How long do I have to keep it inside?” he asked in a rough low voice.

She reached into her dress again, moving as slowly as a snake, and then, in a motion that was deceivingly calm as if she did it every night, she took out a slender blade.

“As long as you can,” she said, holding the edge against his stomach. “That’s the game.”

Feyd’s eyes moved to the knife against his skin and then he looked at her and giggled. He placed his hand in the box and licked his lips, his pale eyes staring her down from above.

#Feyd #Feyd Rautha Harkonnen #Feyd Rautha #Dune #Dune part 2 #Dune fanfiction #Dune imagine #Feyd Rautha x reader #Feyd x reader #Feyd Rautha fanfic #Feyd Rautha imagine #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;littledeath

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