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another-lost-mc · 11 months

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When They Say "F*ck Lucifer" (& Think MC Takes It Literally) Headcanons | THE DEMON BROTHERS 2.6k words | NSFW | gn!Reader | Crack Treated Seriously Content warnings: Cursing, implied relationships, pet names, jealous/possessive behaviour, misunderstandings and poor communication, demon form mentioned (Satan), suggestive content.

BELPHEGOR

"Belphie, it's time for dinner!" Lucifer sent you to find him, and when he wasn't napping in your bed, you knew where to check next.

He mumbles something into his pillow and you can't make out the words, but you know he's listening. "It's the third night this week you've skipped eating dinner with the family. Come on, you know how Lucifer is."

Belphie turns his head towards you enough so that you can hear him more clearly. "Oh, fuck Lucifer." He rolls over and starts snoring again, and you stomp back down the attic stairs in frustration.

When you join the others for dinner, you jab your fork into your food with more force than necessary. You're halfway done your meal when Belphie suddenly plops down into the empty chair beside yours. He reaches for your free hand and leans against your shoulder.

"Belphie?" you ask him curiously, but he says nothing. He doesn't eat anything either. He tries to cuddle even closer to you instead, and he shoots glares at his older brother sitting at the head of the table.

It takes you longer to eat than normal with one of your hands firmly tucked in Belphie's grip. As soon as you finish your dinner, he pulls you away from the table and back up to the attic. He curls around you for the rest of the night like he's afraid you might disappear if he doesn't.

He doesn't skip any more meals for the rest of the week.

BEELZEBUB

You have one hand stretched out in front of you, pressed firmly against Beel's chest. The other is holding a container of sweets behind your back.

"No, you can't have these," you remind Beel for the hundredth time. "They're for tomorrow, remember?"

But Beel's only half-paying attention to you. His focus is latched onto the container in your hand, and if he wasn't worried about hurting you by accident, he'd simply take it from you.

"It's not fair," his low voice rumbles thickly, and there's drool leaking from the corner of his mouth now. "I'm starving!"

You shake your head and look around for something else to tempt Beel with instead. "Lucifer bought these for Diavolo, and we're taking them to the tea party tomorrow."

"Fuck Lucifer," Beel growls, and it's the loudest and angriest he's sounded yet. You both look startled by the outburst; your hand slips away from holding him back, and his jaw drops open when he realizes what he said to you.

You hold the container tightly against your chest. He could easily take it from you now, but he surprises you when he doesn't. His eyes are fixed solely on your face, as if the thing he wanted moments ago is completely irrelevant. He holds his arms out like he's trying to block you from leaving the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I'll look for something else to eat, but please, don't go."

ASMODEUS

"Are you sure you should post that?" you ask, glancing over Asmo's shoulder as he types another inflammatory reply on Devilgram.

"Of course!" he exclaims. "You read their comment. ‘Pretentious and gaudy?’ MY clothing line?! No, I won’t stand for it.”

He’s typing quickly and you’re not exactly sure what his Devildom insult is supposed to mean, but you imagine it’s not very nice by the way Asmo cackles when he hits Send.

“I don’t want to be that person,” you start nervously while Asmo scrolls through the other comments on his post, “but maybe you should ignore them? All this back and forth is drawing a lot of negative attention to your Devilgram feed.”

Asmo pauses what he's doing and looks at you suspiciously. “Who told you that?”

You bite your lip and look away. “Lucifer asked me to talk to you about it.” When Asmo rolls his eyes, you throw your hands up. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it? Aren’t you worried this little spat might impact your new launch?”

Asmo jabs his D.D.D. in your direction. “He’s only worried about drama if it involves someone close to Diavolo.” He runs his hand through his hair and looks down at his phone screen again. “Fuck him. If Lucifer cares that much, he can come talk to me himself.”

“Ugh!” You stand up with a huff and head towards the door. You tried to talk to him and it’s obvious he’s not going to listen. You hope Lucifer believes you later when you tell him you tried to get Asmo to see reason.

When you reach for the door handle, you’re surprised when Asmo suddenly blocks your way. Sometimes you forget how fast demons can move.

“I didn’t mean that,” he says seriously. His housecoat falls open slightly when he leans towards you, and his expression isn't angry but dead-serious.

“Didn’t mean what?” you ask confusedly.

“Fucking my brother. Don’t do it.” His hands grasp your shoulders and you can’t help but laugh.

“I wasn’t going to? I was going to go back to my room while you carry on with your…” you trail off, gesturing to his abandoned D.D.D. on the bed, “…little feud.”

He steers you back towards his bed. “If you want to relax, then I insist you stay here instead. My room is much more comfortable than yours. Besides, I just thought of something you can help me with.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and smile up at him. “Like apologizing to that poor demon lord you keep picking fights with?”

Asmo winks at you with a hint of a smirk, and he tugs at the belt holding his housecoat closed. “Maybe we can do that after.”

SATAN

Satan walks around the narrow pathways in his room, avoiding the fragile stacks of books that litter his floor. You sit on his bed and watch him anxiously, giving him the patience and time he needs to tell you what's bothering him. You're careful to give him space when he's in one of these moods; it was one of the stipulations you agreed to before he let you inside earlier.

"So, you were in the garden earlier with some of the stray cats, and Lucifer did...what, exactly?" You've been trying to piece together what happened between Satan and his brother earlier, but it's hard to make sense of his grumbled and disjointed complaints.

"He scared them away," Satan bites out angrily. "I wasn't even feeding them treats. I sprinkled some catnip for them. What's the problem with that?"

You know Lucifer complains about the stray cats that flock to the House of Lamentation if Satan feeds them when he's not supposed to. You know that Lucifer isn't a fan of cats in general. But, you also know that Lucifer wouldn't purposefully hurt any of the cats that make their way into the garden, and he's not usually this petty.

"Is it possible he thought you were feeding them? I don't think he would make such a big fuss if he knew you were only giving them catnip." Satan glances at you and you can tell he's not convinced by your explanation. "What if I go with you to talk to him?"

"Fuck him," Satan snarls as he keeps pacing in front of you, fists clenching open and closed at his sides.

Sigh. Maybe you can talk to Lucifer on your own. Things have been peaceful between them lately, and this is such a silly thing for them to be at odds over.

Satan watches you stand up from his bed with a defeated sigh. When you try to shuffle past him, he wraps his arms around you from behind and pulls you against his chest. There's a wave of warm energy around you, and you feel the familiar feathers of his true form against your back.

"You're not going to leave me to see him, are you?" his rough voice grates against your neck. "You should stay here."

"Tomorrow we're going to sort this out together," you tell him when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

His hands on your hips tighten. "Fine. But tonight, you're mine."

LEVIATHAN

"I think there's something wrong with your Akuzon account."

Levi asked you to pre-order the Dogi Maji anniversary bundle on his tablet, but the Submit Order button is greyed out every time you try to purchase it for him.

"Huh?" Levi spins around at his desk. He was doing some dungeons with his guild and you've been waiting for him to finish so you could watch anime together.

You tap the screen a few more times and shrug. "I don't know, it won't let me order anything."

Levi opens the Akuzon site on his second monitor and he sputters when he realizes what the problem is. "Lucifer put parental controls on the account again! Why would he do that?"

Of course. You knew Lucifer was upset at Levi for what happened earlier this week, and somehow his threat of punishment completely slipped your mind. "Well, you did summon Lotan on the RAD campus again..." you offer hesitantly.

"That wasn't my fault!" Levi argues loudly. He wilts a bit under your skeptical stare. "Okay, it wasn't completely my fault. Mammon took my rare Ruri-chan capsule figurine and wouldn't give it back."

You rub the back of your neck. You want to be sympathetic, you really do, but you can't necessarily blame Lucifer for his reaction either - an entire floor of the building was unusable due to the flooding.

"You know how Lucifer is, he'll change it back in a few days and we can order the game then."

"But what if it sells out before then?!" he shouts in frustration. "Fuck Lucifer!"

Levi rarely raises his voice like this to you, and he deflates immediately after his little outburst. "Wait–wait–wait!" he stammers quickly, launching himself out of his computer chair and into the empty seat beside you on the sofa. He holds your hands in his and squeezes so tightly that you wince. "I didn't mean that," he says imploringly, and his eyes dart around your face like he's nervous you don't believe him.

You mistakenly assume he's trying to apologize for getting so angry, and you pull him into a hug. "I know," and he nods against your shoulder. "What if I go to Purgatory Hall and order the game using Solomon's account instead?"

Levi sniffles and practically drags you into his lap. "Maybe later," he mumbles against your chest, the game temporarily shoved aside so he can keep you to himself instead. "What do you want to watch first?"

MAMMON

You flick on the light switch in Mammon's room and glare at him in annoyance. You warned him last night not to stay too late at the casino, and here he is, sleeping well past his alarm. At some point he chucked his D.D.D. across the room and promptly went back to sleep.

Great, now you're both going to be late, but for some reason, Lucifer seems to think herding Mammon to class is your responsibility. Lover's perks, you guess sarcastically as you stomp over to where the Avatar of Greed is snoring under a pile of blankets. One of his feet is dangling over the edge of the bed, and if you had more time, maybe slow, torturous tickles would teach him a lesson. For now, you grab the edge of his blankets and rip them off him in one smooth motion.

His eyes are still closed while his hands search blindly for the blankets that are on the floor by your feet. He's only in his boxers so the sudden gust of cool air against his skin makes him shudder. You feel a bit of petty satisfaction as you kick the blankets away for good measure.

"'m tired, goin' back to sleep, babe," he mumbles sleepily.

Well, at least he knows it's you, even if he is half-asleep.

"We're going to be so late for class, and Lucifer's going to kill me. Or you. Or both of us!" You wonder why Lucifer would send you to wake up Mammon, when his own threats of dangling him from the ceiling would probably be more effective. You guess waking Mammon up is meant to be your punishment for choosing to be with him of all demons in the first place.

Mammon groans and rolls over so you can't see him, but you can tell he's half-buried in his pillow when he grumbles, "Fuck 'em."

You throw up your hands and spin on your heel. "Fine, be that way," you snap. Your mood's already sour, and Lucifer's pestering and Mammon being himself isn't helping.

You should have enough time to grab something to eat and make it to class on time if you leave now. What you don't expect is for Mammon to not only get out of bed, but to somehow make it to the doorway before you do.

Damn, he's fast.

He's panting heavily and his eyes are clear now, his razor-sharp focus trained on you. You bump into his bare chest because you don't expect him to block your path. You open your mouth to ask what he's doing, but he leans forward and gives you a sloppy kiss instead. There's something almost desperate in the way his hands cradle your jaw and he drags his lips away from your mouth and dusts your cheeks and brow with feathery-soft kisses too.

"'m sorry," he mumbles, pulling you against him in a tight hug, "Wait for me while I get ready, yeah? Just, don’t–don’t leave. I’ll make it up to ya later, promise.”

LUCIFER

Lucifer pauses outside your bedroom door when he realizes you're speaking to someone on the phone. His brothers are all studying in their rooms - or they should be, same as you. He wonders who could possibly be so interesting that you're ignoring your studies to talk to them instead.

He assumes it's Solomon or Simeon, and he can't decide which of those two options is worse. Not that he cares, of course.

Even through the door, he can hear you clearly. He feels the slightest sense of guilt when he recognizes the tired, sad tone in your voice. Some of his brothers failed the last set of exams, and perhaps he was too strict with you considering your own scores were satisfactory - excellent even, in some classes. He knows that you've been ignoring your extracurriculars and hobbies to focus on studying so you don't disappoint him like his siblings do.

He catches the tail-end of your conversation and decides it's definitely Solomon on the other line if you're being invited to human world outings.

"...yeah, I heard that movie is in theatres now too. I think it looks good, but I'm too busy with–look, maybe once exams are over we can go see it, okay? I think Satan might like to see it too...uh huh...alright, you too. G'night."

Silence follows, and before Lucifer can knock on your door, he hears you sigh and mutter quietly, "Ugh, these stupid exams. Fuck Lucifer."

Well, there's a thought, isn't it? He was going to offer to take you to Madam Scream's to pick up some of those cupcakes you like. He considers it for only a split second and decides he likes your idea even more. His lips curl into a feral smirk, and he knocks once before letting himself inside.

"Huh? Oh, hi, Lucifer. I'm just going to..." but your voice tapers off. Whatever you were going to say dies in your throat when he leans against your door and slides the lock into place.

"I missed you," he murmurs, a surprisingly honest (and to you, completely random) confession that causes your cheeks to darken slightly. You swallow thickly and stare when he brings his hand to his mouth and pulls his glove off with his fucking teeth. "I think you deserve a little reward for all your hard work, hm?"

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hard-core-super-star · 4 months

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make you mine this season [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x barton!reader

summary: a badly timed snowstorm leaves you unable to make it to the barton farm for christmas. thankfully, a certain archer shows up to keep you company.

warnings: none, i think? just really cheesy, holiday rom-com type of fluff [i say this as if i've watched any holiday rom-com besides happiest season and the holiday 😶]; kate's a dork [wow, what a shock]; idiots in love; past mentions of bishova; bad jokes?; snowstorm; cheesy gifts bc kate can't talk about her feelings

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: HI, EVERYONE, I'M ALIVE! and it wouldn't be a rubix fic if it WASN'T posted a little late 😅 i hope you all had a fantastic holiday season and that you'll accept this very cheesy Christmas fic <3 [and maybe that last line is very self-indulgent but that's none of your business, if you know you know]

* * * * * * *

You’re no stranger to loneliness but things were bordering on ridiculous. Not only have you spent the past two years ridiculously in love with a certain purple-loving archer, you’re also on the verge of spending Christmas by yourself thanks to the worst-timed snowstorm of all time.

And maybe the first part of your unfortunate situation is your fault but that doesn’t stop the waves of disappointment from crashing into you.

This year was supposed to be different.

That’s what you had told yourself in an effort to convince yourself to tell the young archer about your feelings for her. It was a strategy that almost worked…until a certain blonde decided to accept Kate’s offer for drinks…which turned into a date…which turned into a second date…which turned into the longest four months of your life.

You could never be one to be mad at someone else’s happiness but that didn’t stop you from feeling absolutely defeated every time you saw them together. There was no one to blame except you for the brunette’s lack of knowledge about your feelings and that only made everything worse.

It was impossible to ignore the ache in your chest when your eyes met Kate’s or the heavy jealousy that clouded most of your interactions with her. Maybe if you had been less into your head about the whole thing, you would have realized the way the archer’s smile never seemed to reach her eyes.

Eyes that followed you every time you walked away.

You never noticed the traces of darkness that clung to her usually radiant persona but you were the first person at her side when the break up happened. She offered little to no details besides an awkward joke about the relationship ending almost exactly where it started right at the Rockefeller tree.

It was messed up in a way that made Kate want to make as many jokes about it as possible which resulted in you laughing at things that definitely weren’t funny and were just sad. Not as sad as spending the holidays completely alone and hopelessly in love with your best friend, though.

You were sure the archer was already well on her way to your dad’s farm which leaves you completely unprepared when the door to your apartment swings open to reveal her. She almost drops the key in her hand the second she realizes you’re home.

“What’re you doing here?” You question, doing your best to pretend you don’t see the gift bags she tries to hide behind her back.

You can practically see the wheels turning in her head before she’s finally able to respond. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at Clint’s?”

It’s hard not to laugh at the incredulous look on her face. No matter how many times you see it, it’s still as endearing as the first time. Back when she was just your dad’s protege and you hadn’t spent so many of your days learning the ins and outs of her complicated personality.

“Did the incoming snowstorm happen to slip your mind?”

“No, I just thought you’d want to go anyway,” she replies with a small shrug.

“I’d rather not crash, Lila will never let me hear the end of it.”

Your words make her tilt her head to the side, the slightest hint of a pout on her face. “So…what, you’re just going to spend Christmas alone?”

“Yup. Kate, I’m not a kid anymore, nothing will happen if I spend one day by myself.”

“But it’s Christmas!” She exclaims, looking borderline offended that you’re so comfortable spending the holiday alone.

“Is that why you’re breaking into my apartment?” You ask in a foolish attempt to stop yourself from asking her to spend the day with you.

Just because she thought about you long enough to come drop off her, no doubt ridiculously expensive, gifts for you does not mean she wants to spend the holiday with you when she could easily spend it with anyone else.

The pink hue that overtakes her cheeks is a better gift than anything that could be inside the bags in her hand. “Well, uh…maybe…”

She finally gathers enough courage to get rid of the distance between you with a bright, albeit nervous, smile on her face. You half-expect her to launch into some long ramble about why she just couldn’t stop herself from buying an insane amount of gifts for you this year but she doesn’t.

For once in her life, Kate Bishop makes things easy for herself.

“I didn’t think I was going to make it to the farm on time so I was just going to drop these off for you…” She holds out the bag for you and you do your best to calm the rapid beating of your heart as you take it.

“Can I open it right now or will you get embarrassed?”

“Both,” she replies through a chuckle. “I would leave but I don’t want you to be lonely.”

“Right, because I’m the one who gets lonely.”

“Shut up.”

It’s both a blessing and a curse to have broken through the archer’s defenses and right now, her cute reactions are beginning to feel like a curse. Although, that might just be your unrequited feelings talking.

A slightly awkward silence settles over both of you while you rifle through the overwhelming amount of purple tissue paper until you find your gift. You’re expecting another expensive necklace, maybe a bracelet this time, but what you’re met with is the most thoughtful gift you’ve ever received…and probably the most thoughtful gift Kate has ever given.

What you end up pulling out of the bag is a leather journal with a beautiful engraving of yours and Kate’s initials. “Kate…is this-”

“Yeah, I, um…I couldn’t find a photo album that I liked so I sort of…made my own.”

You can’t stop yourself from flipping through the first couple of pages, caught somewhere between the euphoria of being given something so beautiful and the disappointment that comes with knowing it all only serves to fuel your love for the archer.

Love you can’t express the way you want to.

Love that’s hidden between the pages of the journal you hold in your hands.

You don’t notice and Kate isn’t really in a hurry to watch you read the series of rambles that make up her overdue confession so she lets the moment fade like she always has. It’s not like you can blame her for wanting to move on to something else, her lack of focus isn’t necessarily a secret, and you let yourself get carried away by her jokes and her stubborn need to make mac and cheese for you.

The archer manages to cook without setting your kitchen on fire and the two of you settle on your couch to watch the first cheesy Christmas movie you find. In all honesty…the movie is awful but the corny jokes make Kate laugh so you can’t find it in yourself to be too grumpy about the shitty writing.

Until the scene in front of you reminds you of the archer and her ex. You’re unable to hold back the jealousy-tinted snarkiness said reminder brings out of you. “I think Yelena watched this movie and then decided to be a dick just like the main character.”

Kate instantly turns toward you, staring at you with wide eyes that barely hide her amusement. “What?”

“What?” You feign confusion to avoid having to repeat yourself.

“You know what,” she replies with an eyeroll. “If I’m the one who got broken up with, why are you the one that’s still upset?”

“Because- wait, why are you not upset?”

Your uno-reverse of a response leaves Kate speechless for a few seconds and you prepare yourself for the series of jokes that will no doubt leave her mouth next.

But Kate’s never been predictable.

“Because…she didn’t break my heart. She didn’t even own it in the first place.”

Her words spark the low flames of hope hidden in the depths of your heart. It feels impossible and if you were a believer, you might even say Santa’s on your side, helping to give you the one thing you’ve wished for more nights than you can count.

And yet you hesitate.

“What are you trying to say?” You ask, your voice so soft it borders on cautious.

“That I’m an idiot,” she replies with that same bright smile that made you fall for her so long ago. “And…I’d really like to kiss you.”

The world seems to slow down to a complete stop at that moment.

You almost don’t even know what to do with yourself. Thankfully, you manage to kick yourself into action before the moment passes.

Kate’s awkwardness seems to disappear into thin air as she leans in toward you, meeting you halfway for the softest, sweetest, kiss you’ve ever had. And maybe nothing about it is perfect but it’s you and her and that’s all that matters for now.

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darkcircles4lyfe · 3 months

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Behind the locked door

In honor of Izuku’s mask disintegrating into rubble, I think it’s finally time for me to really dig deep into his character. I’ve been keeping this one in my back pocket for a while. Amid all the talk about Izuku’s fading narration, the “control your heart” subplot, I’ve been trying to find the words to articulate how I know exactly where this is going, at least on a certain level. Most recently, I read this meta from pika who brings up how the word “control” alone can be misconstrued (by us). And then I thought about how a while back I made a similar point, although I said Izuku was the one who got it wrong. At that time, I was holding back a huge piece of evidence because it was external to the story and I wasn’t sure it would be received well. As a result, my argument fell a little flat. Well, now—after 411, right before leaks for 412—it might be my last chance to play this card.

So about that external evidence. I struggle to bring it up because it’s gonna sound an awful lot like I’m projecting onto Izuku if I don’t do it justice. But… I look at the way his storyline has been going lately and I see a pattern emerging that I’m very familiar with. Fortunately, I don’t have to dump a bunch of personal junk on you in order to illustrate this pattern, because a certain personality typing system already has it all figured out: the Enneagram.

Now, hang on. I’m not one to put people in boxes. My trans ass? I managed to get a different result every time I retook the P0ttermore quiz. MBTI, zodiacs—not my thing. But the Enneagram comes the closest I’ve ever seen to covering all the bases and revealing actually meaningful insight, at least for myself. On top of that, I find it extremely useful for fleshing out fictional characters, hence this post will be taking advantage of that.

For those who aren’t familiar with it, here’s a quick overview: The Enneagram consists of 9 individual personality types, each arranged carefully in a sequential, circular manner. They are also simply named 1 through 9. While this might seem kinda basic, there is actually a surprising amount of nuance and fluidity involved. Typing is done largely through personal introspection (you don’t really have to take a test). Adjacent numbers share some core themes with each other, and according to a web of arrows between them, one type can take on either positive or negative traits associated with other types depending on how emotionally ‘healthy’ they are, causing a lengthy spectrum of different ways each type can manifest. That part gets kinda complicated to explain here, so for more info, the Enneagram Institute website is a decent place to start. I also highly recommend the Enneagram album by Sleeping At Last (and if you really want to dedicate some time, the accompanying podcast) to really get inside the heads of the types on a deeper level.

My interest in applying the Enneagram to Izuku comes from observing how differently one can interpret his character based on whether you read him as a 2 or a 9. And even though no one uses this language to talk about him, the distinction accounts for a bunch of different rifts in the fandom: whether you appreciate bkdk’s relationship, whether you can acknowledge Izuku’s flaws and weaknesses, the severity of his vigilante/rogue phase, and most importantly the gravity of his concealed heart, his rage, and what it all means—what he needs in order to grow and triumph.

Discussion of Enneagram types in the fandom is pretty scarce, but where it exists, I have only seen him labeled as a 2. Type 9 and type 2 can be similar at a glance in a lot of ways (actually, 9s can be mistaken for any type because they are like all of them combined). It’s easy to see Izuku as a 2 because he is the helping hero archetype. He puts others’ needs above his own and he is always ready and eager to help. If you listen to Sleeping At Last’s song for 2, you’ll notice that it’s all about care and noble sacrifice with the underlying theme of neglecting or even harming oneself: “I just want to build you up, until your good as new, and maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself too.” Sounds pretty obvious, right? Well, here’s the thing. You really get to know what your type is by how it hits you where it hurts, so I like to focus on each type’s basic fear and basic desire, first and foremost, as a tell. A 2′s basic fear is of being worthless and unloved. Consequently, their most basic desire is to be loved. And 2s have been taught through their negative experiences that love is conditional, something they have to earn from others. They need to be needed. So let’s say you think Izuku is a 2. This means you consider his heroic, self-sacrificing tendencies to be a result of his growing up quirkless and being told he is worthless and powerless because of it. Through this lens, he is trying to prove himself to the world by being useful. Along these lines, you may also assume he is trying to prove himself to Katsuki. Taking this train of thought even further, you may interpret Izuku’s relationship with Katsuki as an obsession of his, where he is either blind to Katsuki’s more negative traits in favor of gaining his love and praise, or else bitterly determined to prove him wrong. This is how a 2 might behave in an unhealthy relationship with an 8, which, yes, I do think Katsuki is an 8. That’s a tangent for another time, though.

But does Izuku ever “need to be needed?” It’s worth noting that while 2s’ search for validation might seem insincere, it is actually motivated by a deep, heartbreaking insecurity. They think they don’t even deserve love unless they are useful to someone, so they do everything they can to be worthy. Does Izuku show signs of this motivation?

If I stop to think about it, I can’t exactly see this in Izuku’s character. Yeah, his dream is to be a hero, and in his childhood, he was denied that dream. However I think we need to take a step back from that for a second if we want to dig deep. I mean, a lot of the other characters also behave heroically, act selflessly, and strive to help. Does that mean all of them are 2s as well? Of course not. So let’s instead turn to observe how Izuku acts with his loved ones, friends, and peers in other/adjacent contexts:

Inko: He is committed to protecting his mother from fearing for his safety. He wants to be good enough to not cause her to worry, rather than good enough to make her proud or make her love him. Idk about his father but at this point I think it’s safe to assume he is deeply unimportant.

All Might: I would describe their relationship as one of mutual responsibility. Izuku feels a responsibility to uphold All Might’s legacy, All Might feels a responsibility to teach him well. Because of this mutuality, I don’t think it quite makes sense to say Izuku deliberately seeks approval for its own sake. You know what I mean? They may be a mentor and a pupil but in practice they are almost more like co-conspirators. They don’t really have a power dynamic going on.

Shouto, Tenya, other friends: Izuku seems to take an interest in what makes his friends tick, and he sets himself aside in order to both analytically and intuitively determine what’s wrong and how to solve it. Examples include his fight against Shouto in the sports festival, and his stubborn concern for Tenya’s reaction to his brother’s forced retirement. He will put himself in the line of fire specifically when confronted with another person’s inner demons. This is not a labor that is asked of professional heroes, it’s just who Izuku is. You can also extend this observation to how he sees through Tomura to Tenko, but I’ll get to that later. Basically, while 2s seek to help in all kinds of ways, a 9’s strategy is always centered on the realm of the mind.

Kota: Adjacent to the paragraph above, before Izuku literally gets into a position where he needs to save Kota, he becomes interested in the boy’s point of view out of genuine curiosity. He doesn’t go “oh no, this kid doesn’t like heroes, I better get him to like heroes.” Instead he seeks out information as to why he thinks that way, and patiently listens. He’s sorry about what happened to Kota, and he understands. Twice (ch 71 and 72), he recognizes the fact that everyone has their own point of view on quirks, and he can’t really do anything about that.

Mirio: This might be one of the most telling examples. Mirio is the platonic ideal of an All Might successor. He’s “perfect.” He even looks the part. While this initially makes Izuku uncomfortable, he doesn’t become insecure and defensive over it. On the contrary, he easily comes to the conclusion that actually, Mirio should have One for All. Just like that (ch 172). If Mirio hadn’t dismissed the “hypothetical,” he probably would have gone through with giving it to him. That’s not how a 2 would respond. A 2 would double down and aim to be better than Mirio by trying to establish some relationship of need, fueled by the insecurity. Their shared subplot with Eri would have looked pretty different, I think.

Katsuki: I’ve mentioned before that I believe their rivalry only exists because Katsuki put it there. First of all, we can see that after the sludge villain incident, Izuku weirdly takes Katsuki’s dismissal of Izuku’s help as practical advice. Like, “oh yeah, I guess what I did was pretty stupid and dangerous, and I’m not cut out for this hero stuff. Now I can move on and find a realistic career.” Hello?? He accepted that so easily. So Izuku clearly isn’t motivated by a desire to prove himself to Katsuki. Even when he proclaims he’s going to surpass him, it’s like he’s happily mimicking Katsuki, not reacting based on insecurity or pride. Izuku is content to meet Katsuki wherever he is, and he’s satisfied with whatever kind of relationship they are able to have, including a rivalry, so he isn’t vying for his affection either. We can observe this when he gives up the role of reaching out a hand to save Katsuki to Kirishima, and also when he thinks about how “blessed” he is to even have a normal conversation with Katsuki. He doesn’t push things. It’s also stated in Deku vs. Kacchan 2 that Izuku doesn’t excuse or overlook Katsuki’s “bad side” but still admires him for his other traits. This is not at all characteristic of a toxic 2x8 relationship.

When 2s are at their very worst or pushed into unhealthy situations, they tend to become more needy and self-centered, even downright manipulative. But at Izuku’s worst, when he went rogue, he pushed everyone away to avoid being a burden. When the refugees at UA tried to prevent him from returning, he was like, “you’re right” and would have turned back immediately if not for his friends, loved ones, and other people who care about him telling him it was all okay. Meanwhile, Katsuki, in true 8 fashion, was pissed off at being rejected and having to deal with Izuku’s stubborn and evasive side (oh yeah, have I mentioned 9s are actually stubborn as hell?), but he made sure to establish that they are (he is) here to step in when Izuku can’t handle things by himself. Katsuki even opened up and admitted to his own weaknesses to show why mutual support is so important. Tbh, a lot of the above can be construed as just super healthy type 2 behavior, but not this. The way Izuku acts at his lowest, and his dynamic with Katsuki? Totally different. Dead giveaway for a 9.

Let’s get into the type 9 itself in more detail to show how it applies to Izuku more deeply—seriously, it’s beat for beat. One of the key differences is, while 2s seek validation, 9s are actually resigned to the belief that they aren’t important. Similar to 2s, a 9′s basic fear is of separation, but their basic desire is actually just peace or harmony rather than love. Notice how these motivations are just like a 2’s, except they have the “self” part taken out. With that in mind, they “achieve” their basic desire through selflessness in and of itself, without the need for recognition. That’s not to say that 9s are better than 2s. In fact, a 9 can be worse, in a way. If unhealthy, they will seek peace at almost any cost to themselves. In other words, they can be more self-destructive while still under the impression that they are doing just fine. “Peace” may refer to the expression of empathy, fulfilling the needs of others, sheltering someone, or mediating a fight—but also to repressing their own opinions and needs, not “rocking the boat,” ignoring negative emotions, or becoming a vessel for someone else to vent to.

What about inner peace? 9s value serenity, and thus they have a complicated relationship with the most tumultuous of emotions: anger. On the surface, 9s look like the type that is extremely slow to anger and highly tolerant. However, as much as they would like to believe this about themselves too, deep down, 9s are afraid of what might happen if they lose control. My phrase for it is this: I feel like a bottled tornado. Personally, I also think of anger as a basic desire to make others feel your pain—not necessarily sadistically, but in an effort to be known, to be understood. The difficult thing to grasp, especially for a 9, is that this is NOT inherently a bad thing. It isn’t wrong to seek sympathy. On the contrary, it is harmful to tell yourself that getting angry is wrong, because it’s like telling yourself that your pain is wrong, your pain doesn’t matter.

The problem is it doesn’t stop there. A 9, in shutting down their anger, ends up with such a low opinion of their own heart, their other emotions dull along with it. They cry less, laugh less, love less. It’s often said that they “fall asleep” to themselves. It all starts with anger. It’s interesting to note how different this whole mindset is from toxic masculinity—where men only feel allowed/able to express emotions through anger. This is sorta like the opposite. Anger becomes the dam rather than the river. For Izuku, I want us to consider that his suppression of anger carries with it the implication that he is hiding other things, too. It’s a given. There’s a whole sea of feelings out there, and we can only see the waves hitting the shore. This brings me to the whole “control your heart” thing. I do think it is worth mentioning that Banjou didn’t just tell Izuku to exercise control. He also told him that his anger could be useful if it is harnessed. With this added context, “control” here means “to master.” And Izuku seemed to grasp this concept… sorta. I think that if Izuku is like a 9, we can assume he has trouble understanding how anger could be a worthy source of strength. His emotions in relation to Katsuki feel more like a weakness to him, a character flaw in a hero, who is supposed to be detached and selfless. But he’s trying to understand, even though he’s afraid of it. He essentially applied the same strategy he used for mastering OFA itself: incremental strength training. Which, okay. Take a moment to absorb how odd that is, in relation to emotions, specifically. Does one learn to cry incrementally? Does one learn to use anger by bottling a fucking tornado?? Like, what, you think you’re gonna be able to let out juuust the right amount of air to avoid an explosion??? No, man… if you want to be the master of your emotions you have to be willing to sit with them. Confront them. Listen to them. Take them in completely and accept them as a part of yourself.

For someone like Izuku, though, it is very difficult to imagine how this is even possible. Tomura, as with every villain, can be used to reflect his hero counterpart’s greatest fear about himself. Tomura literally touches everyone and everything with his rage, and as a physical manifestation of that desire to pass his own pain onto others, destruction radiates from his fingertips. Thus, losing control in this manner must be Izuku’s worst nightmare, as if he would be completely unable to stop the collateral damage like an infinite line of dominoes. But his anger is not something he can overcome, as such.

An overarching theme in this heroes vs. villains conflict is that the villains are not merely obstacles to be overcome. Just think back to Himiko’s bitter rejection of the heroic sense of superiority. She demanded not to be pitied, condescended to, or lied to. Likewise, the answer cannot be that Izuku needs to restrain himself where Tomura doesn’t. What purpose would it serve to show that Izuku is better than him? Certainly not saving Tomura. If this was a battle against AFO, it might have been a different story. In that case, Izuku would have to overcome his emotional manipulation tactics. Tomura, on the other hand, is not so strategic. With his strangely childlike tendencies, he must relish making Izuku mad because it brings them closer to the same wavelength. It’s his own twisted way or seeking sympathy, or at least, the closest thing to sympathy he can get anymore, because he believes he is beyond saving. With that in mind, Izuku isn’t going to get anywhere unless he rises to meet him. Izuku has to match Tomura’s hatred with equally strong emotions of his own, whatever they may be, or else face the loss of OFA (as established in 305). This is not an easy thing to ask of a 9, once they have started to pull the blood from their extremities, become cold and numb. Bringing back circulation is painful and makes the skin crawl.

In case you’re worried about the focus on anger here, I want to reiterate that concealed anger in a 9 is just one sign of so much more. Back when everyone started fretting about Izuku’s habit of self-sacrifice, which would have been the only thing we need to worry about if he were a 2, I was freaking out because Izuku was also starting to look like a person who has too many secrets. You don’t even have to acknowledge the possibility that he lied about what triggered blackwhip. It’s written all over his face all the time these days. It’s especially noticeable when you contrast him with Katsuki after all his own growth. Katsuki confides in people. He acknowledges his weaknesses. He enjoys being himself. He asserts his place. He thinks about Izuku all the damn time and now he even lets himself be soft about it. All this warmth while Izuku is distant, muted, and blank. I know all too well what this state of mind is like. Man, I hate secrets. You get to the point where you don’t know how to talk about even the simplest most inconsequential shit. And the bigger things? They’re like a growing snowball of words in your throat that cannot possibly fit out of your mouth. The “easiest” way to cope is to simply fade into the rhythm of life. Go with the flow.

Since 9s have a natural curiosity about the interiority of other people, they may choose to focus on that in order to divert their own attention away from themselves. Taken to the extreme, they will lose track of their sense of self. Like I said, you can see Izuku doing this as he fights, analyzing the psyche of his opponent, and his match against Shouto in the sports festival was a fantastic early example. They became friends because of how observant Izuku is. His emotional intelligence and intuition are very strong, but gradually, as he has taken on greater responsibilities and experienced more trauma, he has gotten worse at applying these skills to himself. You know, we go on and on about how his narration has been reduced to nearly nothing, and it’s not just an absence of introspection, it’s an absence of self. It creates a lack of ownership over the narrative—what should be his narrative.

Right now, he’s focusing on trying to see Tomura as a person, figuring him out. I think it would be really satisfyingly ironic if in the process, he ends up uncovering insights about himself instead. It’s about time we learn what Izuku’s secrets are. I don’t actually think that Izuku mastering anger will constitute the emotion that is strong enough to keep Tomura from taking OFA. Moreover, he can’t expect to reach Tomura’s core, Tenko, unless he exposes his own. Rather, anger is the conduit for Izuku to unlock something else. Think of the way he described how Katsuki is his image of victory. The feeling manifests when he asserts a stronger sense of self (the urge to win) and he becomes more free with his words. I have no doubt that Tomura has the power to make unfiltered honesty spill out of him. He knows how to bring out his selfish needs, his pain, his pressure points, his fears, his insecurities. Hell, maybe Mt. Fuji erupting is a metaphor. I want to see Izuku explode while Tomura watches with mad glee. But then I want Izuku to Realize Things such that it finally sets him free. Then, instead of Tomura witnessing yet another person he touches fall apart, he gets to see someone become whole.

"I let the scale tip, feel all of it. It's uncomfortable but right. And we were born to try to see each other through. To know and love ourselves and others well is the most difficult and meaningful work we'll ever do." --Sleeping At Last, 'Nine'

#you are very much welcome to send me asks about this and the enneagram etc because it's very fun to talk about!#bnha meta #bnha manga #bnha 411 #bnha 412 #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #character analysis #midoriya izuku #shigaraki tomura #bakudeku #bkdk #dekubaku #dkbk #lin speaks

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lincolndjarin · 9 months

Text

ride cowgirl! ★ (agent whiskey x reader)

(18+ mdni) pairings : agent whiskey x afab!reader summary : you like to make bets with your coworker for simple things, what happens when he decides he wants to raise the stakes? warnings & tags : no use of y/n, smut, sort of dubcon there's reluctance but everything is consensual, porn with plot, this ended up actually being mostly plot lmao, p in v sex, unprotected sex, forced orgasm, light bondage, use of restraints, fully clothed sex, pet names, size kink, praise, whiskey big dick truther word count : 2.3k a/n : first new fic post on the new blog!!! I had so much fun with this thank you so much to the person who requested it !! one of my google forms anon requests was for anything whiskey!! (I put the request at the end) this was the direction I went in >:) this was meant to be a drabble but I got carried away immediately. enjoy!! (this was edited super fast bc i'm tired after work lmao, so apologies for any mistakes)

It was a stupid deal.

And you never should have made it.

Of course it’s a little late for that now, when he’s already tying your hands behind your back with his ridiculous flask belt.

“This wasn’t a part of the original agreement.” You grumble as he pulls the leather tight. That smug smile on his face.

“You said, anyway I wanted it. This is how I want it.” He leans back against the headboard to admire his work. His eyes focused on the way your chest pushes out now with your arms forced behind you until you cough to get his attention. He takes his time before letting his eyes crawl back up to your face, still grinning ear to ear.

“Can we just get this over with?” You groan.

“Oh come on, gorgeous.” He’s loosening his tie, his smile never falters. “I already told you we don’t have to do this. I’ve offered you several outs and you keep turning them down. Besides,” He flashes his teeth at you in a toothy grin. “it’s no fun for me if you don’t want it.”

That’s exactly what he’d said when you’d made this deal a week ago.

“I think I want your hat.” You said rather confidently. The two of you had a long standing rivalry. You were placing bets nearly every week at this point. The winner was whoever had the most successful missions. It had started off simple. The loser has to take the other out to dinner, or pay for drinks after a night out.

After a few months of that you’d gone out with Whiskey more times then you’d gone on any dates.

Then you decided to raise the stakes.

The other person's paycheck that week, a piece of tech the other had, at one point your mothers phone number was on the line. (Thankfully that week you had won.)

This week you were feeling lucky. So you pointed at his cowboy hat, he was never seen without.

“If I win I want your hat.” You cock your head to the side, smirking.

“You have a hat already.” He was typing up a mission report, you had come in as you always did on Monday mornings.

“Nice observation agent, how’d you figure that out?” You took a pen from the mug on his desk, rapidly clicking it in an attempt to get under his skin. “That doesn’t change my mind, I don’t want my hat. I want yours.”

He sighs in irritation, taking the pen from you and moving the mug to the other side of his computer.

“And if you win you can have mine.” You flick the rin of his hat as you say it and he finally turns to glare at you.

“I don’t want your hat, I already have a hat.”

“Someone’s in a bad mood today.” You whisper theatrically as he turns back to his work.

“I’ve got a lot of paperwork to get through darlin’ so let’s hurry this up.”

“I already told you. I want your hat, if you don’t want mine then pick something else.”

He turns in his desk chair completely to face you now. Annoyance visible on his face.

“If I win, then you wear my hat.” As he speaks he cracks the first smile you’ve seen on him all morning.

“You aren’t making any sense, are you still waking up? Do you want me to go get you some coffee?” You laugh but he leans forward. Even though you were up on the desk and he was in his chair he was still nearly face to face with you.

“Darlin’ you can be so cute sometimes.” You have no idea what he means but his voice has a condescending tone that makes you scowl.

“Stop being coy and just clarify.” His first signs of a smile turn into a full blown grin.

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” He whispers, you’re about to slap him for making such a crass joke but he looks completely serious.

“That’s not funny. What do you really want?” You pray he doesn’t see the goosebumps on your arms at his words, you spend so much time with him yet he’s never made a pass at you. You’ve watched him hit on countless women these last few months but he’s never turned his attention towards you quite like this.

“I told you. You win, you get my hat. I win, you wear it.” He has to be messing with you. You want to believe that he’s just trying to push your buttons but you know purely based on the way he looks at you that he couldn’t be more serious.

It’s an insane offer. But it’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Who wouldn’t be curious about what he must whisper to get women to come home with him, what he must promise them.

Stop. You can’t seriously be considering this.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously I’m not doing that.” You get up to leave. Embarrassed by the entire situation.

“You win, you get my hat and the Bronco. I win, you wear the hat.” You’re already walking out when he says it and you stumble a bit before turning back to stare at him slack jawed.

“You’d give me your car?” The disbelief in your tone is palpable.

“If you won.”

And you just couldn’t say no. It was too good of an offer.

So you set up ground rules.

You wanted your clothes to stay on, at least as much as possible for the situation. Which he agreed to, so long as the two of you did it “how ever he wanted.” You didn’t realize until much later what that entailed. And of course there was the fact that he wanted you to enjoy it. An odd request all things considered, but he said it was important to him that you had a good time.

“It's no fun for me if you don’t want it.”

He had insisted that if you weren’t into it that he would stop, especially if he thought you were faking it.

Once everything was decided the two of you shook hands.

And then, by some cruel trick of fate, you had fumbled not one, not two, not even three, but all of your missions that week. A feat that has never happened to you in the entire history of your employment with Statesman.

So that’s how you ended up like this.

Fully clothed other than your discarded panties, straddling your most annoying coworker, who’s sitting underneath you, dressed the same as always except his pants are unzipped, with his belt around your wrists.

“Just let me know when you’re ready darlin’, take your time. I can wait all night, I've got nothing else planned.”

You could tell him no. You should. You just don't want to.

The second you did he would take the belt off your wrists, hand you your panties (the ones you pretended you didn’t see him shove in his pocket when you threw them on the bed,) and send you on your way. And he’d do it all with a smile.

Of course you can’t let that happen, that would just mean that he’s won, again.

He wouldn’t even tell anyone, not that anyone knew about the deal to begin with. But he’d never tease you for bailing, he’d just make you live with the knowledge that you bit off more than you could chew.

And worst of all, if you had won, you know for a fact that he would have handed over the keys to his car with zero hesitation.

So you roll your eyes and nod.

He clicks his tongue, leaning forward, his hands rub your thighs, pushing your skirt up further.

“Tell me you want it sweetheart.” He taunts, making you sigh loudly.

It’s not that you don’t want it. God knows you want it. You crave it. But you can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I want it.” You say, almost comically emotionless which has him frowning, sitting up straighter.

“Let’s just call it. You clearly don’t, and I’m not interested in an unenthusiastic partner.” He begins to lift you off of his hips but you push against him, properly sitting yourself in his lap.

“Give me a second, Jesus. I’m not even warmed up, just- I need a minute. We’re doing this.” There’s a determination in your voice that stops his efforts.

There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again.

“Do you want me to… warm you up?” It’s the first time he’s dropped the cocky facade since you started this ordeal.

“No. I think I’m okay. Let’s do this.” You nod a few times, almost like you’re hyping yourself up. The two of you hadn’t factored in a lot of the logistical details of this deal, more specifically foreplay.

As he pulls himself out of his jeans you’re starting to wish that you had. He isn’t even completely hard yet and you aren’t entirely sure how you’re going to take all of it.

He unceremoniously spits into his hand before gripping himself at the base, steadily stroking himself.

It’s like he’s a porn star and you’ve got front row seats to a private show.

You’re close enough that when he leans forward, softly grunting, his face brushes against yours. His cock becoming fully erect in his hand, you hope he doesn’t hear you gulp.

As he jerks himself off, his free hand reaches up, removing his hat before placing it onto your head. It’s a little too big for you so it tilts to one side. He gives you a lopsided grin before picking up his pace. You watch with wide eyes.

He’s too big.

In every way possible.

He’s too long, he’s too thick, he’s simply too much.

And you can’t tell him that. He’s smug enough as is, if you say “actually nevermind. you’re dick’s too big I couldn’t possibly fuck you.” he’ll be even more insufferable than he already is. But much to your chagrin he already knows what you’re thinking.

“You still sure you don’t want me to warm you up?” His nerves are clearly gone as he chuckles before hissing through his teeth. His thumb brushes over his pink, weeping tip.

“I’m fine. Ready when you are.” Not true.

“Maybe I could free your wrists. You can do it yourself if you don’t want me to do it.” He’s reaching behind you and you once again halt his efforts.

“No. We’re doing this your way.”

You’re certainly overestimating your abilities, but he doesn’t need to know that.

You scoot forward in his lap until his cock is resting between your thighs. You sit up on your knees and he lines himself up at your entrance.

“Last chance to back out, sugar.” With that final taunt from him you sink down onto him without warning. Barely taking more than an inch before you drop your chin to your chest so he can’t see your face as he simultaneously leans back to rest against the headboard once more.

It feels like he’s splitting you in half.

His hands return to your thighs. His palms splayed against you as his thumbs rub comforting circles against your flesh.

The sting is all you can think of but buried beneath it all is a heat that threatens to consume you.

You lift your head to look at him. He’s lost a bit of his bravado as he runs his fingers through his hair. You don’t give him (or yourself to be fair) a chance to adjust. You have a desperate need to watch him unravel despite the ache between your legs.

You take a deep breath before you take nearly half of him in one rock of your hips.

The stretch is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, the heat in your stomach is bubbling over as you let out a moan you’ve never heard from yourself before. His grip on your thighs is tight enough now that you’re certain you’ll have to wear a longer skirt tomorrow.

“Christ darlin’.” He stutters out, his eyes are squeezed shut and you couldn’t be more proud.

“Is this enthusiastic enough for you?” You manage to grunt out between your small gasps.

He mumbles something that sounds like a yes.

You have to wait longer this time before moving again, you wait until the pain eases itself away and is replaced with that heat you’ve been pursuing. Only then do you try taking more of him, you don’t manage all of it but you take most of him after a bit of effort. The entire time his eyes are trained on you, a look of admiration on his face.

“You are something else, gorgeous.” He whispers.

His low drawl shoots straight to your core and god you’re sure he knows it. He whimpers when your walls clench around him.

You haven’t even started properly riding him and you’re close.

The way he fills you has you seeing stars. You would love to try and banter with him right now, tease him, but you’re too far gone. Too focused on the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he lets out a soft whine before squeezing your hips.

“Let me touch you, please.” He mutters breathlessly.

You aren’t one to deny good southern manners.

You give him a nod and he wastes no time as he rubs your clit with the pads of his fingers frantically, like he’s trying to make you cum as fast as possible. You’re confused as to why for only a moment because your climax approaches so rapidly it nearly knocks the wind out of you. Your hips stutter as you sit, finally fully impaled on his length, in an instant your vision is a searing hot white. His hat tilts forward on your head, briefly covering your eyes. You’re left breathless in his lap, when you come down from your high he’s grinning at you.

“I win again darlin’.”

You groan as you recall the conversation you’d had right before he had tied your hands behind your back.

“If I finish first you can have my hat, if you do, then I get to finish inside you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“If I finish first you can have the Bronco.”

“...Fine.”

a/n : requester ily, thank youuu

#lincolndjarin #agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #agent jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey / reader

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kilistina · 1 year

Note

hiii just wanted to say i love ur posts so much. ur so good at writing pls never stop😫 i just finished reading punk 57 and the whole “tell me something true” line has me in a CHOKEHOLD. pls pls pls write about assholery being cold and distant with y/n out of nowhere even though they’re friends. can the reader be fem and have bunny as a nickname too? it’s been on my miiind and i just know you’ll write it to perfection <33

i fucking ADORE this suggestion sm. whoever you are, message me pls bc i wanna rack your brain for more lmao

lmk if you wanna be tagged in part 2 when—if—it comes out <3 i hope y’all enjoy this part though bc it’s truly one of my favourites so far.

i recommend listening to these two songs while reading: wet dream - wetleg, desire - meg myers

•••

dirty dancing. pt1

word count: 4.4k-ish

disc. nsfw content ahead. mdni. brief coke mention—in passing, includes fem! reader n harry styles, bold ass language, kinda slow burn but not really, some sexy dancing ig n aaaangst. enjoy my whores <3

•••

Things have been weird with Harry for a while now. You’re not exactly sure how or why the rift even started, but it did. And it’s only been getting worse.

You’ve been friends for what—two years now? Never too close, but close enough to be able to communicate about any issues you’ve had with each other. You and Harry don’t really argue, he’s not the confrontational type. Not with you, anyway. And not when he’s sober.

You aren’t the biggest fan of confrontation either. When things get too heated or overwhelming, you cry. It embarrasses you—being unable to handle your emotions. You know that you’re only human, and you’d never judge someone else for crying in the middle of an argument, but because it’s you, because you know yourself so well, you judge yourself over it. Weird pattern, but hey, it’s real.

Right now, you’re out at a bar with your friends—the same group you’ve been hanging around since high school. Mitch and Sarah have been highschool sweethearts for as long as you can remember, they’re like the parents of the group. The cool parents. The parents everyone secretly wishes they could have. Niall and Lewis are attached at the hip, too—platonically. Been best friends since the day they met.

You’re the closest with Niall since you’ve been living with him through college, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You have other girlfriends but they’re not as close to you as Niall and Sarah are. Sarah’s like a diamond you’ve always loved. They all are. They’ve always been by your side when you needed them—Harry included. You got lucky, sure. Not everybody has the luxury of picking the good ones before college and life gets in the way.

The bar is slowly coming to life. People who came for a meal are leaving, and people in the mood for a night of drinking and dancing are all piling in. You’re excited. It’s been way too long since you’ve let loose. You’ve been too stumped with work and college lately, you’ve barely had any time to breathe without someone breathing right there with you. And of course, you enjoy the company of others. But when you have to be sober for it all? Eh.

Harry’s similar to you in that sense. He loves socialising. Absolutely adores it. He’s an extrovert. But after weeks of constant company, he gets burnt out. The only thing that helps toughen the blow is alcohol. Or coke, but he’s stopped that for a while now.

You prop your elbows up on the edge of the bar and lean against it, looking around for the bartender. He has his back to you, mixing someone else’s drink. You clear your throat and he turns his head to the side, catching sight of you and nodding his head to let you know he’ll be a moment. You nod back and wait, turning to face your friends.

“Anyone wanna shot with me?” You arch a brow at your five friends, and they all smirk and nod their heads. Harry included. “We all good for a vodka?”

Everyone nods a second time in response, and you turn back to face the bartender.

“What can I do for you, gorgeous?” He shoots you a warm smile.

“Five shots of vodka, please.” You smile back at him and he nods.

“Straight?”

“No, gay,” You murmur a witty reply and he laughs, beginning to fill five shot glasses for you. You swear you can hear Harry coughing back a laugh from behind you too, but you don’t pay him any attention.

You double tap your phone’s off switch, activating the apple pay, and you hold it up to pay for your drinks.

“No need, beautiful,” The bartender holds his hand up, “This round’s on me.”

You shrug, exhaling dramatically, “I won’t try and convince you to let me pay.”

“I wouldn’t let you try.” The attractive bartender plays along, smirking at you.

You mouth a quick thank you to him and he gives you one final wink before turning his attention to the small group of girls next to you, catering to them now. You grab the shot glasses off the counter and hand them out to everyone, and you all hold them up and clink them together before downing them in seconds.

“Fuck,” Sarah sticks her tongue out as if that’s going to help the taste in her mouth, “Never gets easier does it?”

“Doesn’t need to,” Niall grins proudly, setting his shot glass down on the counter, “You’re just weak.”

“Yeah we fuckin’ get it, you’re an Irish heavyweight. We should all bow down at your feet, you’re a king and we’re peasants who can’t handle a measly shot.” Lewis rolls his eyes and pretends to worship him.

Niall frowns in confusion, “Who you calling a heavyweight?”

Harry snorts at the two men bickering. They’re like two peas in a pod, and typically, people who are so close tend to argue every now and then.

The group has that dynamic. Sarah and Mitch, Niall and Lewis, you and Harry? You’re not sure if you and Harry count. You’re not as close as the others. You wouldn’t call him a best friend. A friend, yes. A good friend? That’s pushing it, but still, yes. A best friend? No.

It’s not that you wouldn’t like to be closer. You’ve just never really been given the chance. Harry’s always kept a safe distance from you. You’ve hardly ever spent time alone, always speaking and engaging with each other the most when others are around to witness it. Sure, a part of you wishes that Harry would pay you more attention, but the other part of you doesn’t think he deserves it. If he wanted to, he would, right?

“And aren’t you Irish too?” Niall questions Lewis, continuing on with their unserious bickering.

“Yeah like a third,” Lewis shrugs, “From my dad’s side, but you already knew th—stop deflecting. Y/N, tell him to stop deflecting from how much of a cock he is.” He points towards you and tries to get you involved.

You giggle and shrug your shoulders, “You are a bit of a cock sometimes, Ni.”

“Both of you can suck me, honestly. I’m fuckin’ great.” Niall flicks his hair dramatically and you and Lewis snicker.

“I’m with Niall,” Harry lightly nudges Niall’s chest with his elbow, joining in on the joke, “Both of you can suck him.”

“You fucking weirdos,” Mitch shakes his head at the lot of you, not surprised in the slightest by your antics, “Miss Jones and I are gonna go dance, you lot can either keep bickering or come join us. Choice is yours.”

With that, they both head for the dance floor together, holding their hands in the air and laughing.

“I’m joining those twats,” Lewis gestures to them, looking at the rest of you, “You three game?”

Niall nods, “Course. Harry, Y/N?”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” You nod towards the bar, “I feel like some more drinks.”

Everyone’s attention shifts to Harry. He clears his throat as he thinks for a moment, “Yeah, me too. Be there in a bit.”

Lewis and Niall both nod at Harry and beeline for the dance floor, already beginning to bicker again on the way. You giggle at the sight of them and shake your head, turning to face the bar again. Harry joins you, standing by your side. Neither of you look at each other, you keep your eyes in front of you at the neat array of liquor set along the counter.

“Nice night, don’t you think?” You break the awkward silence threatening to form between the two of you.

You catch sight of Harry nodding his head, “Always a nice night with this lot.”

Dry as fuck. You might not be close with Harry, but you aren’t stupid. You know the way he speaks to people, you’ve seen it. Harry could have an hour long conversation with a tree. But with you, it seems like a fucking chore.

You want to scoff. You want to scoff at how fucking childish Harry’s acting with you. Why can’t he look at you or have a normal conversation with you?

You sigh, not wanting to overreact over such a minor reply and ruin the night for yourself. Although Harry seems to be doing a decent job of that himself.

“Can’t argue with that.” You murmur.

“Mhm.” Harry murmurs and you wait a beat for him to say something else, anything else.

He doesn’t.

That’s it.

“I feel like I don’t know you.” Your words spill out before you can stop them.

Harry’s taken by surprise. He turns to face you. Now he’s looking, at least. “Sorry?”

“I feel like I don’t know you.” You sigh, repeating yourself.

“What is there to know?” He furrows his eyebrows at you, gesturing to the bartender that he wants a glass of something.

“You tell me, Harry Styles.”

He sighs, running a hand through his curly hair, “Y/N, what are you trying to get at here?”

You shrug, “I dunno, I feel like I click with everyone else. I’ve got a connection with everyone, H. Everyone but you.” Your words come out harsher than you intended. You’d feel a little guilty if they weren’t true. But they are.

“That was unnecessary.” Harry murmurs so quietly that you almost don’t hear him.

“You asked me a question and I answered it.” You stand your ground, sick of Harry’s half-assed efforts to conversing with you. You’re a catch, your friendship is amazing, and you’re great to talk to. What the hell is Harry’s problem?

He laughs, scoffing at you in disbelief, “Fuck, you’re such a bitch sometimes.”

You almost choke on your own saliva, “Excuse me?”

“You fuckin’ heard me, Y/N. I called you a bitch. Because that’s what you are half the time when shit doesn’t go your way.” Harry doesn’t know where this is all coming from, but it’s coming.

He doesn’t mean it, obviously. He’d never mean that. He doesn’t think you’re a bitch. Again, never. But he’s angry. He’s angry and you’re angry and you’re both speaking without thinking it through properly and you’re both making an absolute mess of the situation and each other—

“What the fuck?” You stare at Harry in shock, your eyes wide with disgust.

He’s confused by your offended reaction, “What, are you surprised or something? Come on, Bunny. You know better than that.”

“You don’t have to be such an ass,” You scold him, “We used to get along. We used to be closer. We’ve never been as close as the others but at least we used to speak. At least I was able to walk into a room knowing you were there and look forward to it.”

His face relaxes at your words. He knows you mean well. You’ve both been hotheaded for a moment but now you seem to be calming down. You’re bringing your point across well and he can’t fault you for it.

“But what now? What fuckin’ now, H? You never speak to me when we’re alone, and then when you finally do, it’s this. It’s an attack on my character. Does this shit get you off or something?”

Never mind.

Harry scoffs at your sudden change in tone, feeling agitated again, “Fuck you.”

You slam your hand on the counter, “Fuck you, Harry!”

He glares at you as you continue scolding him, “What the hell are we even doing here? Go spend time with your actual friends.”

“Hey, wait a second. What?” He leans his head to the side in confusion, not knowing what you mean, “We’ve known each other for years, Bunny.”

“I don’t know a single thing about you.” You point out, making him roll his eyes. “Don’t roll your—“

“Where’s my favourite place to eat?” Harry cuts you off with a question. A question that you know the answer to.

 “That’s not—”

“Where do I go when I’m upset?” Again, another question you can answer.

“Harry—”

“How did I get the scar on my chin?” That’s a special question. You gave it to him the day you met.

You sigh, knowing where he’s going with this. He’s not understanding what you’re trying to tell him and it infuriates you.

You tap the tips of your fingers on the countertop, feeling anxious, “That’s not what I—”

“You do know me, Y/N. we don’t need to speak every two seconds or braid each other’s hair to know each other well.”

Your eyes begin to prick with tears. That isn’t what you meant and he knows that.

“That’s not what I meant.” You lower your voice as it threatens to crack.

“Then what did you mean, Bunny?” He crosses his arms and stares at you, waiting on an explanation.

You groan, throwing your head in your hands.

The truth is, you can explain. You can explain everything you’re feeling well. But is that going to get you anywhere right now? Maybe. Maybe not. You have a better idea.

“Do you consider me a friend?”

Harry’s face drops. You can tell that he’s upset and borderline offended that you’re even asking that question.

Of course you’re friends. You’ve been friends for years. He adores you. Why can’t you see that he adores you?

“Bunny..” He takes a step towards you, and you take one back.

“Do you?” You insist on getting a solid answer.

“Of course I consider you a fr—”

“Don’t lie.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m not—”

“Tell me something real, Harry. Please. God, please just tell me something that isn’t base level for once,” You beg, “Tell me something true.”

He raises his eyebrows slightly. He’s taken back. He wasn’t expecting that from you at all.

He stays silent.

“You can’t, can you?” You scoff at him, not knowing why you expected anything to come from this conversation. You should’ve known better than to be hopeful about how things were going to go with Harry..because it’s Harry, “I don’t know why I thought you’d—“

“I still smoke cigarettes.” Harry cuts you off, blurting out an admission. He tenses his jaw in realisation—he’s just as shocked as you are.

Oh.

Your eyes widen at his confesion. Harry’s been gloating to everyone about how he so easily quit smoking three months ago. You’re all so proud of him, considering how difficult it is to quit something cold turkey the way he did. The rest of you haven’t been able to shake the bad habit. Apparently, neither has he.

“You do?” You question.

He nods, “Less. But I do.”

“Why?”

He almost smiles at your question, “Why do I smoke?”

“Why did you lie about it?”

He sighs, looking down as he answers you, “Everyone’s got something, right? Sarah and Mitch have their relationship, Niall has his singing, Lewis has his stand-up every Friday, you have your double degree. I just wanted something that everyone could be proud of. Felt like something small like that would’ve been manageable to keep hidden from everyone.”

You frown, “Harry..”

“No,” He shakes his head, refusing to let you feel sorry for him, “No. Seriously, no. We’re not about to do pity. That’s not what we do with each other.”

“Okay,” You clear your throat and agree to let it go, grabbing a now filled shot glass and handing it over to him, “Drink?”

He smirks at you, silently thanking you as he reaches forward and takes the shot glass from you.

“Sorry for calling you a bitch.” He murmurs, offering you a small, sincere smile.

You give him one back, “Sorry for being one.”

His small smile turns into a grin.

“To the truth.” You hold your glass up to cheers his with.

“To the fuckin’ truth.”

You both down your shots and tap them down on the counter to gesture for the bartender to refill them. He complies and neither of you waste a second to down the next ones. Over and over, shot after shot, you continue to drink until you’re buzzed.

You’re both good at handling your liquor, and you know how much you can take. By the time you’re done with your shots, you’re over the moon. Buzzed and aware. Aware of what you feel, aware of where you are, aware of who you’re with. Aware.

Harry leans down, his face dangerously close to yours. He’s never been this close, you don’t think. You’ve never seen his face so clearly, you’ve never seen his chest tattoos so well, his necklace dangling, his—

“Should we go dance with the others now, you think?” He speaks into your ear and you feel your stomach beginning to erupt with nerves.

“Yeah,” You inhale sharply, nodding, “Sure.”

Harry grabs your hand and leads you through the crowd, keeping a hold of you even when you reach where your friends are. The contact is strange but you welcome it, liking the new barrier that’s being broken between the two of you.

Over the years, you’ve noticed how touchy he can get when he’s under the influence, so you have an idea of what you’re getting into. You like being on the receiving end for once. You could get used to this side of Harry. You like being his friend. His real friend.

Once you get to where the others are, you quickly gauge what they’re all doing. Mitch and Sarah are in their own little world as usual, dancing together as if it’s their wedding night. Niall’s dancing with a random girl he’s probably going home with later tonight and Lewis is making a fool of himself in the middle of them. Ah, friendship. You love to see it.

“Nice song, yeah?” Harry leans over to your ear, speaking over the music. The song playing is one of your all time favourites—Wet Dream by WetLeg.

Anyone who knows you, knows the way you feel about this song. It’s become tradition to play it everytime you carpool. A fine tradition, you think.

“Oh, the best.” You start bopping your head to the beat of the song, singing along with the lyrics you know and love.

“I was in your wet dream driving in my caaar, saw you at the side of the road, there’s no one else around you’re touching yourself, touching yourself—“ You start yelling out the words along with everyone else on the dance floor, shaking your head side to side and dramatising every word. Harry watches you and smirks, letting you have your moment.

“You said—“

You’re about to keep singing the next part when he beats you to it, “Baby do you want to come home with me? I got Buffalo ‘66 on dvd!”

You let out a surprised laugh at the fact that Harry even knows the words to the song, loving that you’re seeing this side to him. You’d never expect to have something as simple as loving a song like this in common, but here you are.

Beam me up—beam me up!

Count me in—count me in!

Three, two, one—three, two, one!

Let's begin!

The song continues and you realise that you’ve both been staring at each other for a good ten seconds in silence, just taking in the sight of each other. Harry really is beautiful. The way his hair hangs perfectly below his shoulders. The way his dimples show at the smallest hint of a smile. The way his eyes burn into yours. You never want to see anything else. Just him. Just Harry.

“I was in your wet dream, driving in my caaaar!” Harry’s voice breaks you out of your daydream, and you laugh as he grabs your hands, dancing with you to the beat of the song.

“What makes you think you're good enough to think about me when you're touching yourself?” You continue the song and he pretends to be shocked, acting out the song with you.

“You climb onto the bonnet and you’re licking the windscreen! I’ve never seen anything so obscene!” You both sing the next part together, leaning in close to each other’s faces and practically screaming with the biggest smiles on your faces, “It’s enough! To make a girl blush! It’s enough! It’s enough to make a girl blush!”

The rest of the song plays and you both continue to scream out every word, making the most of the moment you’re having and hoping it never ends. Neither of you are sure what’s going on but neither of you are complaining. You’re both witnessing a new side to each other and you’re enjoying it. Perhaps you were made to be best friends like the others. Maybe it was meant to happen like this.

The song eventually comes to an end and you both let out a deep sigh, catching your breath for a moment as another random song plays.

Harry looks down at you with parted lips, “Nice singing, Bunny.”

“Could say the same to you, H.” You smile and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. The move is natural and you don’t put too much thought into it. Neither does Harry.

His hands find their way to your waist and you both sway in time with the music, singing the lyrics into each other’s faces and having the time of your lives.

“I haven’t had sex in 5 months!” His voice is just loud enough for you to hear over the music.

Your eyebrows furrow, “What?”

He leans closer to your face, “I said—I said I haven’t had—”

“No I—I heard you H,” You chuckle, “I’m just a little—”

“Surprised? Yeah me too.” He grins at you, suddenly seeming to be completely comfortable with you in a way you never expected, “I stole that chocolate bar from you last week by the way, it wasn’t Niall.”

You laugh for a moment at his strange confessions until you process what he just told you, “Wait that was you?”

 “Loud ‘n proud, bunny.” He grins proudly.

“You—you fucker!” You gasp, playfully hitting his chest with one of your hands, keeping the other where it was around his neck.

 He chuckles, playing along, “Did you forget what I just—”

“Shut up!”

You both laugh, continuing to move your bodies together.

“What about you? Tell me something true.”

You purse your lips together, trying to come up with something to tell Harry. There’s a million things you could tell him, but you want to catch him off guard. You want to see an honest, raw reaction from him.

“I think you’re really pretty.” You finally say, shrugging your shoulders.

Harry raises his eyebrows at you, unsure if you’re being serious. “Pretty?”

You nod.

He tilts his head for a moment, “Weird choice of words.”

“I don’t think so,” You smile at him, “You’re a pretty boy.”

He smiles back, “You’re a pretty bunny.”

“We’re pretty.”

“We are.”

You both smile at each other and share a brief moment. A moment of what—you’re not sure. Two friends being supportive of each other? Two friends suddenly becoming closer and making the most of it? Two friends two friends two friends—

The next song begins playing and your heart begins to pace more. Desire, Meg Myers.

The two of you exchange a look, knowing that you won’t move together to this song the same way you have been for the others.

You know that you won’t be singing along with this one. You’d rather feel it. Feel Harry.

You move your hands away from around Harry’s neck, and he keeps his on your waist, holding you close. You move your hands down and place them over his, feeling electric all of a sudden.

Baby, I wanna fuck you

I wanna feel you in my bones

The song is loud and the coloured lights are flashing red. The atmosphere has changed—not only in the bar and on the dance floor, but between you and Harry. The way he’s looking at you is different. The way you’re looking at him is different. The way he’s touching you is different. The way you’re touching him is different.

I’m gonna tear into your soul

You begin to sway your hips to the beat of the song, holding your eyes over Harry’s. Neither of you dare to look away. You wouldn’t dream of it.

How do you want me?

You begin to turn your body in time with the music, turning your back to Harry. He leans his head down, resting his head on your shoulder and keeping his hands by your waist as you continue to move against each other. You feel a surge of confidence—you’re not sure if it’s the song, if it’s the alcohol, if it’s Harry’s random confessions, if it’s the feelings you’ve been suppressing from him for years—but it’s here. It’s here and you’re about to make the most of it.

Yeah I gotta hurt you, I gotta hear it from your mouth

Boy, I wanna taste you, I wanna skin you with my tongue

I’m gonna kill you

You lean your ass back, moving it against Harry’s crotch. He sucks in a breath, and the only way you know it is because you feel his teeth graze the skin of your bare shoulder. Your eyes close at the feeling and you grow bolder, moving the same way a second time.

He tightens his grip on your waist. You can feel the bulge of his cock against your ass and you can only imagine how much it’s straining against the band of his jenas. You almost pity him. Almost.

I wanna feel you

I want it all

I wanna feel you

I want it all

You continue moving against Harry, enjoying his little reactions to your touch. To the way you feel. He begins trailing kisses down your neck, applying pressure and sucking on your skin. You still. You can’t focus on anything but the way his lips feel against you.

What’s going on between you both? What the fuck is happening? Why the fuck has it taken so long? Why couldn’t it happen sooner?

So many questions.

“Bunny,” Harry groans against your shoulder, placing one last kiss to your neck before moving his mouth to your ear, “Tell me something true.”

You know exactly what you want to say. Again, there’s so much you want to tell him. You want to tell him how good he feels against you, how much you love the way he moves his body against yours. You want to tell him that you feel the connection now. You want to tell him that you know he can feel it too. There’s so much to say, but you settle for the most simple thing. The most important one.

“I want you.”

•••

aaahhhh!!! i’m sososo proud of this one. idk why but this shot has a special place in my heart. the smut will be included in the second part. and believe me, it’s gonna be SMUT. i’m such a whore for angst n this friendship trope is just chef’s kiss.

anyway enough chat. i hope y'all enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 if you liked what you read then please reblog n comment. feel free to suggest ideas for new posts too.

have a good day or night wherever you are n stay safe, always <3

- k

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wolfjackle-creates · 8 months

Text

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 11

God this arc just keeps getting longer and longer. Luckily after this, I should be able to move ahead with the plot? I'm a few more minutes into the episode at least!

Anyway,

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

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Cassie sat next to him and bumped their shoulders. “We’ll figure this one out just like we have all the ones before.”

Conner sandwiched him on the other side. “Yep. And the Fentons don’t seem like the type to hide information. They’ll tell us everything we want to know.”

“You’re both right. We’ll fix this and be home before we know it.” Tim pulled out his phone. “I wonder if there’s any old news articles we can look up for more information. Danny told me about the first ghost attack. A ghost called Lunch Lady who used meat to attack people and was upset because Sam changed the school lunch menu.”

Bart blinked at him and sat on the coffee table facing him. “You’re making that up. You’ve gotta be.”

Tim laughed and shook his head. “Nope. We’ll have to see if he has a list of his rogues so far. They’ve all been so gimmicky. Kinda like Condiment Man in Gotham.”

At Tim’s direction, Bart and Cassie also began looking into various news articles and posts about the ghosts of Amity. Conner recorded their findings and Tim supplemented with information he’d gotten directly from Danny.

Research kept them busy for the next hour until the Fentons returned.

“Danny’s friends!” boomed Jack when he saw them.

“How are you four doing? Did you find the pantry? Enough things to eat?” asked Maddie.

“Yes, Ma’am,” said Conner. “Cassie and I also left to explore a bit and found a corner shop where we picked up a few things we knew Tim and Bart liked.”

“That’s great! Now, I see you’ve seen the news, and I don’t want you to be afraid. Jack and I are planning on training some of Danny’s classmates in ghost fighting, would you four like to join?”

Everyone looked to Tim who bit his lip in thought. “I— can we sit in on the first lesson? I’d like to see some more of your work. Danny’s told me a little bit about it, but seeing it in person is something else. But I also want to spend more time just with Danny since we haven’t met in person before.”

“Of course, honey!”

Tim had to force his smile to remain neutral at the pet name. His parents didn’t even call him ‘honey,’ let alone anyone else. “Thank you, Dr. Fenton.”

“Call me Maddie, dear.”

“And I’m Jack!”

“Yes, Dr.— er, Maddie, Jack. When will the others be here?”

Jack looked at…something on his wrist that must’ve had a clock feature and boomed, “Not for another three hours! School’s still in session, you know.”

Conner cleared his throat. “Will you need help setting up? Maybe you can tell us a bit about ghosts while we do. I’d never seen one before.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea! Thank you, sweetie!” said Maddie.

“Conner, my boy, the first thing you need to know about ghosts is that they’re evil and only want to hurt you. If you don’t remember anything else, always remember that,” added Jack.

Tim’s stomach sank at those words. Did Danny have to hear things like that every day? “How do you know they’re all evil?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, Tim! It’s because ghosts aren’t people. They’re post human consciousness imprinted on ectoplasm. They’re an echo of what they used to be and that echo wants to become a person again. But it can’t because it’s dead. So it lashes out at anything living around it. Either to steal their life or make the living like it.”

Maddie nodded. “Exactly. A ghost killed my best friend when we were girls. If you’d like, I can send you some papers Jackie-poo and I wrote about how ghosts form so you can have more information.”

Tim forced a smile. “That’d be great, thank you.” Could the portal be destroyed in some way? Would that keep ghosts from coming through and allow Danny to come with him to Gotham?

“Now!” said Jack. “Who wants to help me carry up supplies from the lab?”

Once again, Tim asked for some safety gear before going into the lab and Maddie shoved a white jumpsuit at him with a sticker of Jack’s face on it.

“This is one of Danny’s, dear. But he doesn’t wear them very often. Here’s another for you, Bart. It might be a bit long, but try it on and we’ll see what we can do. Cassie, Conner, you two will be a bit harder, but I think I should be able to coble something together. Hang tight a sec!”

“I guess we’ll go get changed, then,” said Bart as Maddie and Jack disappeared back downstairs to see what they had.

Tim held out the top and poked at the decal of Jack. Going to the edge, he worked a finger under the image and let out a sigh of relief when it came up. “These are removable,” he commented as he pulled it off.

“Fantastic!” said Bart, ripping his own off. “Come on, Rob. Let’s get changed.”

Upstairs in the guest room, Tim allowed himself to comment, “At least it’s not orange.”

“Everyone will know who we’re staying with, though.”

“Better than stepping foot in that lab with no protection.”

They were just finishing up when Cassie and Conner walked in with matching scowls. In their arms were a mix of orange and blue fabrics.

Cassie glared at them. “Not. A. Word.”

Tim smirked and held up his hands. “Who, me?”

Bart mimed zipping his lips.

“We’re just about finished here, though, so we’ll go help the Fentons while you two get changed,” said Tim. He couldn’t help the way his lips quirked as he looked at the clashing jumpsuit pieces as they passed each other.

Conner made sure to trip them with TTK.

Tim just smiled at him as he pushed himself up and left without another word, Bart a step behind him. The door was barely shut before they were laughing so hard they couldn’t walk down the stairs without gripping the railing.

“Good to see you boys are having fun! How do the jumpsuits fit?” asked Jack when he saw them.

Bart held up his hands to show how he’d folded the ends of the sleeves. “Not bad. Just had to roll up the sleeves and pants a little.”

Tim nodded his agreement. “Little tight in places, little loose in others. But I can move well enough.”

“Good, good! Now, want a detailed tour of the lab as we collect weapons to train Dan-o’s classmates?”

Tim didn’t have to hold back his sharp grin at that question. “Absolutely. I want to know everything.”

And Jack and Maddie were willing to share quite a lot. Conner and Cassie joined them ten minutes later, wearing jumpsuits cobbled together from spares of Jack’s and Maddie’s. Now that they weren’t rushed by trying to get out and manage an active and hostile ghost invasion, the tour of the lab was much more thorough.

Jack and Maddie were also happy to answer any questions the four had. As it looked, there was no actual organization to the lab. And in the fridge, food was stored right next to samples. The fudge hissed when Jack took out a piece to eat and Tim shuddered.

“Want one? My snookums made it! Best fudge you’ll ever eat.”

“Aww, thank you dear!” Maddie hugged Jack at his compliment and kissed his cheek.

“I— No. Thank you,” said Tim.

“Why do you have a stockade?” asked Cassie.

Tim gave her a grateful look and she winked at him.

“That’s to hold down ghosts so we can question them,” said Maddie.

“Yup! Restrain them in there and then you can use toys like this one”—Jack brandished a cat-o-nine-tails—“to force ‘em to talk!”

“Or the Fenton Prod,” added Maddie holding out what looked like an electric cattle prod. She pressed a button and the end sparked green.

Tim swallowed hard and clenched his teeth. Did everything these people make have to look so painful?

The rest of the time in the lab passed in much the same way. The four traded off who had to ask a distracting question as they were all more and more horrified by the casual cruelty displayed by Danny’s parents.

Eventually, the doorbell rang and they were able to return upstairs with armfuls of weapons. Maddie opened the door and Dash Baxter and his cronies stood there with sadistic grins.

“Dash, what a pleasant surprise to see you again,” Tim said with his own teeth bared. “I don’t think we got off on the right foot last night. I’m Tim. Danny’s told me so much about you.”

For a moment, the boy’s face showed confusion before it was wiped away with a polite smile. “He’s told us about you, too. I’m sure we’ll become great friends.”

Well fuck. Looks like the ghosts weren’t all gone after all. Tim held a hand behind his back and signaled danger to his friends. They needed to get away from here.

-----

We've got more with Jack and Maddie here! Hope you guys like how I write them. We already know this is going to turn into bad-parents Jack and Maddie based on what's going to happen in Arc 3. (Arc 3 will be the original prompt fill and it's fall out.)

Also, I think I'm going to change some things around in previous parts. I won't edit them on Tumblr, but before they go on AO3 they'll change. Tim is going to lie to Bruce a bit more than he has so far. He'll tell Bruce that Danny is Cassie's friend so he doesn't decide to look Danny up if he gets bored.

Next chapter will have Danny and co again!

I will no longer be managing a tag list for this fic, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want to be notified of updates. I'm also want to get the first chapter transferred over to AO3, but I'm going to transfer the first arc of Ghost!Robin first.

I reblogged an ask game earlier today if anyone's curious about me. Check it out and consider sending something in!

#dpxdc #dead tired #tim feel his homicidal urges stirring #every robin gets them at some point #and bruce isn't here to keep them in check!#the rest of his team arent far behind #if tim goes evil theyll follow #its why they play villain tim bingo #to keep it from happening

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hollandorks · 8 months

Text

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter two

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: I have like six chapters written and a rough (mental) outline of the next four or so, so I'm going to keep posting pretty frequently! I mostly want to get these first few posted to get a nice foundation going...and also because I'm greedy for the attention. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.5k

Her childhood bedroom was exactly as she had left it three years ago, free of dust, the linens on the bed so fresh she could still smell the detergent.

She threw herself onto the bed and finally let herself cry.

The funerals were a small, somber affair two days later.

Y/n’s mother’s only guests were her sponsor, a distant cousin she had been close with, and a neighbor. Dory’s guests included Bruce and Alfred, along with a few friends, her sister, and her niece and her family. Though the number of guests were few, y/n knew her grandmother was well loved.

As the sermon commenced, y/n found herself aching for just one more hug, one more story, one more smile.

And her mother…the grief for her was unexpected and sharp. She had been a bad mother, yes, but in recent years she’d made an effort. She got help for her addictions. Apologized. Sent the occasional card or letter. Took her own mother to appointments when y/n was too much of a coward to face Bruce.

She couldn’t stop the tears, but she hung on every word said over them in goodbye. She wanted to speak for them, to say her own goodbye, but she couldn’t bring herself to. It was too hard. The hardest thing she’d ever done.

And when Alfred stepped up to the podium, his kind words made her choke on emotion, her muffled sob echoing in the space despite her best efforts to smother it.

She half expected Bruce to comfort her, to try to make her laugh like he had when they were young. But he made sure Alfred sat between them, the space yawning wide like a chasm instead of the length of a single chair. When she glanced over at him, his eyes were on her, his hands bunched into tight fists on top of his knees.

Were those…bruises across his knuckles? She frowned even as he continued to watch her. Well, he had gone through a street racing phase when they were in high school. Maybe he was into boxing now. She had no way of knowing.

She met his eyes once more and her already broken heart broke a little more when he turned away without a word.

She ached for one more smile, one more hug, from Bruce as much as from her grandmother. It was another type of grief, but worse because she could get those things, if only their relationship was still alive. He was there, he was alive, but he was just as far away as the two people in the coffins before her were.

After the funerals and the reception at her grandmother’s church, y/n followed Alfred and Bruce out of the elevator at Wayne Tower. It felt as if she had aged ten years in the span of three days. Her steps were heavy as she trudged towards her room. Tomorrow, she thought tiredly, she would have to go through her grandmother’s things. Alfred told her that she didn’t have to, that everything could stay as it was–but she knew that she had infringed upon Bruce Wayne’s generosity for too long already.

In her own room again, she tried to go to sleep. It wasn’t late, but she was exhausted, and she wanted her brain to turn off for a little while. She didn’t want to think, to remember, to go over every single thing she would never get to do again with her grandmother. She didn’t want to think about Bruce’s gaze on her at the funeral, his hands in fists, his lips pressed tightly together.

She had lost everyone who loved her, except for Alfred.

The loneliness and the grief were sharp in her chest.

Hours later, she was still awake.

With a groan, she rolled over, defeated. It was nearly midnight.

She stood and changed into something more comfortable.

She needed to get out. Out of the place of so many memories, good and bad. Every moment in Wayne Tower was like being chased by ghosts. One moment, she saw herself and Bruce at eight years old, chasing each other up and down the stairs. In the next, she saw her grandmother teaching her how to properly carry a tray of tea to Mr. and Mrs. Wayne. In the next, she heard Bruce’s angry words echo off of the vaulted ceiling as he broke her heart.

Y/n shuddered as she walked towards the elevator that would take her down and out.

“Where are you going?” a gruff voice asked, nearly making her scream.

She whirled around. Bruce was half-hidden in the shadows.

“Out,” she said, feeling oddly like a teenager again. Dory and Alfred had caught her sneaking out many a night. Somehow, they’d never caught Bruce, but always caught her. She had that same guilty feeling now, spreading sticky fingers through her like a flush of heat.

Bruce stepped into the weak light from the lamp on the entry table. “Out where?”

“God, what are you, my father?” she asked with a roll of her eyes. “Just out, Bruce.”

“In Gotham?” he asked, incredulity coloring his tone. His dark eyebrows disappeared into the lengths of his hair. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Never stopped me before,” she said with a shrug. She missed him so much she relished each word he gave her, even if they were a reprimand. She needed to leave before she got stuck in an argument with him–or worse, cried. “See you later.”

She hit the button for the elevator and startled all over again when Bruce grabbed her wrist. She hadn’t heard him close the distance between them. How could someone so tall and broad move so silently, she wondered. And then she realized that he was touching her bare skin, and electricity crackled up her arm.

She wanted to lean into him. God, she missed him.

But then he ruined the moment. “No. It’s too dangerous, y/n.”

Anger rose within her, wild and unstoppable and full of thorns. She bristled at it. “I don’t care.” She yanked her arm away and stepped into the now-open elevator. Even three years away couldn’t tamper the hurt she still felt. It was as fresh at it had been the day he’d ripped out her heart. “I can’t stand to be in this place another second.”

He took a step forward too, blue eyes blazing. “Let me at least–”

“You’ve done enough,” she snapped. The words seemed to stun him into stillness. Which worked for her, because then the doors slid closed, and she was whisked down and away, just like she wanted.

She slumped against the far wall of the elevator, suddenly tired again. She wondered if Bruce was watching her on the security camera she knew was in the upper left corner. She knew he was trying to look out for her–he always had, even as kids when he was much smaller and scrawnier than her–and she had thrown it back in his face. But she was so damn tired. Tired of pretending like she wasn’t hurting. Of pretending like she could look him in the eyes without remembering how much she loved him. Of pretending like things might ever be able to go back to the way they used to be. Of pretending like she wasn’t fucking lonely.

Cold air assaulted her as she stepped outside of the tower. The security guard had barely given her a second glance. She was an adult now and not technically sneaking out, so he didn’t care what she did.

It smelled like it had rained recently or would rain again soon.

She inhaled deeply. Something in her settled. Gotham might stink like any other city but it was a familiar kind of stink. Almost comforting. And the damp smell underneath it was another comfort, one Bludhaven didn’t have to offer with its drier climate.

Y/n turned and walked off with no direction in mind. Maybe she’d stop by the diner on the corner three blocks away. She and Bruce had eaten many a late night meal there. She hadn’t had dinner, either, and was suddenly ravenous. Had she eaten lunch? She couldn’t remember eating anything before leaving for the funerals.

She made sure to keep aware of her surroundings because, as much as she hated to admit it, Bruce was right. Gotham was dangerous. It always had been. It didn’t matter that there was some freak in a bat costume running around, either. He could only do so much. And it didn’t matter that a lot of the corruption had been rooted out by that serial killer, Edward Nashton, the man called the Riddler. Gotham had a way of turning even the best of people into something rotten. It was only a matter of time before another guy in a costume showed up or another mayor turned bad.

Y/n’s mind turned to the bat guy as she scanned the shadows around her. Maybe she’d get lucky, catch a glimpse. She had read a lot of op-ed articles over the past three years while he’d been active. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. She had to admit, he was doing good for the city. One article in particular came to mind–an interview with Lieutenant James Gordon at the GCPD. He apparently worked with the Batman often and they had caught the Riddler together.

One line in particular stood out to her. Those days, in a city where I wasn’t sure who to trust on my own team, I trusted him.

And somehow, this Lieutenant Gordon had avoided being a target of the Riddler, which had to count for something. Because as psycho as he was, Nashton had targeted the corrupt. Well, except for Bruce Wayne. She still couldn’t forgive him for trying to blow up Bruce and almost succeeding with Alfred.

She slipped into the diner, busy despite the late hour, her mind still swirling with thoughts of serial killers and vigilantes and cops.

She took the last free booth in the corner, the cold night air following her inside. An old jazz song hummed in the background and the air smelled like bacon and burnt toast. Her stomach announced its emptiness again, loudly.

She was still thinking of the vigilante as she placed her order with an older waitress with hair the color of wine.

What was to stop the Batman from becoming like the Riddler? They both had taken justice into their own hands and only one was in prison. The Batman hadn’t killed anyone….that they knew of. So why did the city laud him and crucify the other?

Although, she thought as she dug into her stack of chocolate chip pancakes, there had been protests and riots in regards to the Riddler. Enough people had believed in him that a group of them had tried to shoot up Gotham Square Garden in the floods.

Her head was pounding now. The part of her brain that made her a good reporter was latching on to the idea of vigilantes and the line between good and bad. She wanted to write an op-ed article herself, but her thoughts on the matter weren’t original in the slightest.

Maybe, while she was in the city, she’d run into the vigilante and ask for an interview. In a city of criminals like Gotham, the chances were relatively high of seeing the vigilante at least once.

She snorted quietly to herself. That was an unoriginal thought if there ever was one. She would bet money that any reporter worth their salt had tried and failed to interview the Batman. Which probably had involved at least a few getting into trouble on purpose. And still, nothing on his identity. Hell, even his friend Lieutenant Gordon was pretty tight lipped about him, despite telling the world how much he trusted the vigilante.

“Hey,” she asked her waitress as she brought the receipt over. The cracked vinyl seat creaked as she leaned forward. “Ever seen that Batman guy? I’m from out of town, so…” She shrugged, gave a coy smile.

It was technically the truth. She’d been gone for three years, and in that short amount of time, Gotham had birthed all kinds of crazies, including the Batman and the Riddler. It was a running joke in Bludhaven, who only had “normal” criminals.

The waitress shrugged. “I haven’t ever seen him, no. But it makes me feel better working so late, knowing he’s out there.” She inserted y/n’s card into a handheld credit card machine.

Y/n nodded and chewed her lip. “How do you know he’s on your side, though? That Riddler guy last year did alright, up until the flooding and the shooting.”

The waitress’s expression soured. “Batman’s never killed anyone, good or bad. Ever since he became…you know, a vigilante…he never killed anyone. Ask around and you’ll eventually find someone he saved from a mugging or an armed robbery. Or, more likely, someone he helped when all the higher ups left us to fend for ourselves in the floodwaters.”

“Wow,” y/n said after a moment. The waitress had…fierce opinions about the vigilante. “I didn’t realize he was so…loved.”

The woman shrugged again. She handed the card and receipt over. “I’m just saying, he looks out for the little guy.”

Y/n absently tapped her bank card on the table. “Well, that’s good to know. Maybe I’ll see him out there, yeah?” She laughed lightly.

“Probably better than you don’t, because then that means he’s saving you from something.” The waitress winked and went to another of her tables.

Y/n was really itching to write an article now. Wouldn't it be great if she were the one to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding the Batman? Maybe her editor would loan her out to the Gotham Tribune or another newspaper for a special assignment.

She scoffed quietly as she got up to leave. They would simply tell her the truth–there wasn’t anything special enough about her to be the one to succeed where so many others had failed. The only special thing about her was that she had been raised alongside a billionaire. A billionaire who didn’t even want to be her friend anymore.

As she stepped out of the diner, she turned left instead of right. Right would have led her to Wayne Tower, and she definitely wasn’t ready to go back. Talking to the waitress about the vigilante had lit an all too familiar fire within her. The kind of fire that usually burned her, but always led to a hell of a good story by the end.

The kind of fire that made her do stupid things, like stop when she heard a muffled sound from the end of an alley.

The kind of fire that made her sneak forward, into the shadows, to see several men huddled over two other figures.

The two on the ground were both hooded and bound with hands behind their backs. But one was slumped over while one was still on their knees.

And that same fire gave y/n her first burn as she took out her phone and started recording.

There was another muffled sound and she finally placed exactly what it was as the second hooded figure slumped against the first. It was a gun–a gun with a silencer. When she realized, she made her next mistake.

She gasped.

And every head–four of them, all men–turned to look at her.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @slovakshadow

#the batman x reader #battinson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #the batman 2022 #the batman #battinson #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x y/n #battinson x y/n

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ilythena · 1 year

Text

·˚ ₊˚ 𝐌𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤!

🎵 Gherbo - friends & foes.

Sum. ᯤ Being the blue lock characters pretty ass gf.

Char. ⩩ Nagi Seishiro, Reo Mikage, Bachira Meguru PT 2. - Rin Itoshi, Chigiri Hyoma, Isagi Yoichi.

Tags. ⌯ People (it’s actually bachira) hitting on you, you’re an it girl, bad ass bitch frl, kinda crack

𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 (なぎせいしろ)

“Where is nagi at?” You mumble, standing on the sidewalk, looking down at your phone to look less awkward to strangers. You’re so hypnotized by your phone you don’t see him and his team walking down. “That girl over there is super pretty.” “She looks really familiar?” Isagi and reo say as they glance at you.

Nagi turns his head to where they’re looking to see you and he smiles. “That’s my girlfriend.” He says and reo laughs, nagi looks him up and down in a ‘the fuck is so funny’ type of way. Reo catches this and scoffs, “no way you’re pulling her.” Kunigami says and as if it was on cue, you hear him and see nagi from across the street. You smile and wave to nagi and he waves you over, reo is shocked. Isagi’s mouth is wide open and he cannot believe it. You walk over saying hello to everyone and clinging to your boyfriends arm and he’s glaring at the whole damn team at this point

“Did he force you to date him? Is this a joke? Nagi got a girlfriend before me?! I’m gonna faint.” Bachira says as he holds onto Isagi and puts a hand on his forehead. You laugh hard and nagi frowns at you mumbling a “how’s that funny?”, Isagi is still standing there in complete shock. “Y-you’re y/n! The one who won the woman’s high school soccer championship in kanagawa! No way!” Isagi says and he’s about to faint literally.

“Y’all just mad I get more action then y’all.” He replies and drags you away from them, your smiling and yelling a “bye! Hopefully I’ll see you all around!” And Bachira is yelling “bring her back!” To nagi.

𝐑𝐄𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 (レオみかげ)

“Reooo! Wait up” you whine, and reo chuckles and slows down a little for you to catch up. You both walk through the doors of the school and immediately all eyes are on the two of you, people staring and mumbling— it honestly scares you a little. You both walk to class and you think something is wrong. Why was everyone looking?

It’s the first time anyone’s ever seen you since you’re new to the school, and you’re nervous beyond belief.

Class goes by and reo pulls you aside as soon as it’s over. “What’s wrong? You look upset.” “Why is everyone staring at us?” Before reo can respond a tall boy with white hair walks over and talks before him. “Are you and reo dating?” Straight to the point. You nod and he smiles, pats reo on the back with a “congrats” and leaves without another word.

Confusion is written all over your face and reo laughs and says “that’s nagi. I’ll introduce you to him one day, but I was gonna say they’re looking bec-“ cut off once again, this time by some random girl, she shoves a camera in your face and smiles “Reo Mikage’s girlfriend! The brand new school sensation. Everyone is fawning over how beautiful she is! What’s your name and how do you feel about all the support and compliments you’ve been getting on the school page?”

Reo sighs and excuses the both of you and drags you outside, everyone smiling at the both of you and suddenly it makes sense. Everyone’s looking because you two are dating and they want to know who exactly you are. Nosy. As you pass groups of people you hear them mumbling “it’s no surprise reo got the prettiest girl here. It is reo mikage.” “They’re both so cute. I don’t know if I want to be reo or be with reo.” “Reo better watch out, cause if they break up I’m going for her first thing!”

You smile as he drags you down the hall and laugh. He sees and smiles as well, happy you finally understood and aren’t upset anymore.

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 (ばちらめぐる)

Logging on to Instagram, you read through the comments of your recent post.

Isagiyoichi: ❤️

User26774: 😍😍😍

^chigirihyoma_: Bachira we know this is u come to practice ugly.

S3ishir0: Nobody Doing it Like y/n ig….

^y/nsthebest: fym “ig…” 🤨

Thebestmikage: WHATS 4+4?

^rensuke50: ATE!

You laugh at your friends comments and get dressed to go through the day. Walking to the soccer practice you smile and yell “heyyy!” To everyone and everyone yells hey back, but nobody was as loud as Bachira. He stops everything he’s doing to run over to you and hug you despite how sweaty he is.

“You’re sweaty bachi’” you whine, and push him off of you because you don’t want him to ruin your clothes. Chigiri yells “Bachira come here and finish practice! We’re almost done.” “Wanna spend time with the light of my life” and nagi fake throws up in the corner. “We know y/n would never go for you Bachira give it up! She really want me instead” reo jokes, and Bachira takes a random shoe and throws it at him.

Reo chases Bachira and kunigami screams “my shoe! I spent money on that shit you know!” You laugh and Isagi kicks you out because apparently you’re too much of a distraction for the team (Bachira.)

You spend the rest of the day home and hear loud knocks on your door. Who else would it be? Bachira shoves his way into your home and flops on top of you on the couch. “They’re bullies” he fake cries and you stroke his hair and laugh. “My poor Bachi.” You kiss his forehead and he hums into your chest.

You take out your phone and snap a picture of him on you and post it on your story, adding a text saying “@bachiraluvsy/n the best bf” and post it. You put the phone down and silence it, only wanting to focus on your boyfriend for the rest of the day.

Notification Center:

2 hours ago

Reo <3: Y/N ARE U FR.

Reo <3: I LOST TO BACHIRA?

Nagi :x: LMFAOOOO REO MAD AS SHIT RN

Nagi :x: *attachment: 1 image*

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first-edition-dumpster-fire · 2 years

Text

I’m not gonna lie, I find the reactions to my last post to be very encouraging. I think it’s safe to say that you guys will be seeing more headcanons and preferences from me. Maybe even fics as well. As always, my asks are open, so feel free to comment or suggest fics you’d like to see from me

Anyways, on with what y’all actually came here for

My Hugging Headcanons for the Casper Crew + Finn

Bruce Yamada

-expect bear hugs

-comes from a very openly affectionate family, so he likes to convey his feelings through physical affection

-he’ll keep you there for a minute, too, prepare yourself for that

-hella cliche, can and will pick you up and twirl you around if he hasn’t seen you in a while

-I head canon that Bruce isn’t all that great with words, like, there’s basic compliments and sentences, but I feel like he’s the type that believes that love can’t be expressed with words. So he’ll hold you and imagine that all of his love is being poured into a hug

Robin Arellano

-even tho i previously said that he doesn’t care who’s looking and he’ll be as affectionate with you as he pleases, I feel like that might not apply to hugs

-robin is very awkward with hugs but he likes touching you, so he’ll wrap an arm around your shoulders when you walk together

-if you aren’t and are just standing around, he’ll turn you to face him and just grab your hips, just keeps his hands there

-he actually loves putting his hands on your hips because he likes that he can be openly affectionate with you and still look cool

-he does give full-on hugs, but he feels like those are intimate, too intimate to be shared with the prying eyes of others. He’s a pretty small guy and he knows it, so to him, hugs are protective and private. Robin’s real hugs are very special

Billy “Paperboy” Showalter

-a lot like Robin, Paperboy isn’t one to hug you in public

-it’s not an intimacy thing, or a PDA thing, he could not give less of a shit about that

-but he correlates hugs to cuddles, so in his mind, if he’s gonna hug you, its gonna be an hours-long affair

-in public, if he wants a hug, but can’t cuddle you, he’ll just wrap an arm around your shoulder by its the closest he can get to having what he wants until y’all are alone

-when you’re alone, whether it’s at his house or yours, and he wants a hug, he’ll just drag you to a comfortable spot and y’all will cuddle until bodily needs overtake the sweet comfort of each other’s embrace, but seriously, clear your schedule bc you will not be moving for a very long time, don’t even try it

Griffin Stagg

-hugging is the most extreme form of PDA this boy can handle

-to him, hugging can be platonic and is ordinary to the public eye, so he doesn’t mind it, but he will end it if he feels like y’all are being watched

-his favorite way to hug you is to wrap his arms around your waist and across your lower back, which leaves room for you wrap your arms around your shoulders

-griffin knows he isn’t exactly the most affectionate boyfriend, whether its in public or not, so giving you hugs makes him feel like a better romantic partner

-its sort of silly tho bc in private, its almost as if he has trouble detaching himself from you. He’ll give you a hug, and then do an awkward shuffle to wherever he wants to go with you still in his arms. It makes him blush when you bring it up to him, so he’ll use his body to guide you to a bed or couch, body slam you, then leave as if it was nothing

Vance Hopper

-no

-c’mon, you already know

-fine, but if he did hug you, it would be so totally low effort that it doesn’t even seem like a hug to other people

-he likes to shuffle up behind you and wrap one of his arms across your chest

-it honestly looks kind of threatening because of the way he’s positioned with an arm caging you to his side and his mouth very close to your ear, it looks like he’s threatening you or whispering malicious things to you if not for your pleased smile and the fact that he’s not actively yelling at anyone

Finn Blake

-like Bruce, he likes to wrap his arms around you

-in public, he’ll maneuver you to tuck your head into his chest or neck and sway you until he decides he’s had his fill for the moment

-sometimes if you’re just standing around by your lockers or the Grab n’ Go, he’ll have you curled into his side with an arm around you, casual and unassuming

-in private, especially in his house, he likes to tuck his head into your neck instead. For a very long time, his home wasn’t a very safe and happy place for him and the changes that came with escaping the Grabber didn’t magically fix his bad memories of his childhood. So he’ll curl into you and find comfort in your soft warmth. A good amount of the time, private hugs end up turning into cuddle sessions where he lays onto top of you with his head on your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat

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admiringlove · 2 years

Text

exes.

synopsis. hq boys bringing up their exes during an argument.

genre. headcanons; angst to fluff.

characters. sakusa kiyoomi, kuroo tetsurō, oikawa tōru.

warnings. swearing, crying, etc.

author’s note. i contemplated publishing this, it’s been sitting in my drafts for a month :/

navigation. main menu, hq menu.

— SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

sakusa was a very private person. so, dating him came with the fact that he had boundaries. and his career wasn’t easy on you either, because he preferred to keep your relationship private.

you weren’t the type of person to argue with that. in fact, even you preferred it this way. it would be way easier if the two of you were hidden away from the crazy fans and the invasive media. so you went along with it. you’ve known kiyoomi since college; you’ve adjusted to his mannerisms, his quirks, his ups and downs—everything, really. he couldn’t be more grateful to you.

but everything came crippling down when you thought that it had been too long since the two of you started going out. that maybe, just maybe, you and kiyoomi could still lead a private life if he just announced to his fans that he has a significant other—just mentioning it, or posting a story on his instagram or any other social media. the first time you had brought it up, he’d dismissed it lightly. you’d tried again and again, but he just wouldn’t budge.

just like today. but something was off about today as well. you hadn’t exactly had a good day at work, and neither had he. but you approached the argument either way, even though you probably shouldn’t have.

“we’re happy, aren’t we?” he asks in a taunting way, “why do we need to tell the whole world we’re together if we’re content.”

“omi,” you take in a sharp breath, “we have been together for eight months. eight. that’s more than half a year.”

“yeah, so?” he raises an eyebrow, shrugging. you hate the way he’s so dismissive whenever the two of you come to a disagreement. while you’re usually level-headed, you tended to have a complete change in personality when you were arguing with someone. just like today.

“do you- oh my god, kiyoomi!” you huff, “i’ve been nothing but patient for the past seven months, but this is a limit that you’re crossing. i thought that after so much time you would be comfortable but no-”

“this is getting annoying,” he sighs, “why are you acting out like this? everything was fine until last month.”

“because,” you grit your teeth, “i don’t wanna be some secret fling anymore. if you can’t take responsibility then i don’t want to be a part of whatever this is.”

“you do realize you’re behaving just like nami, right? that nagging pain in my ass who kept telling me to make our relationship official even though we dated for only two months.

“w-what?”

“what else do you think?” he taunts. you can tell he’s lost his cool but the things he’s saying pricks at your heart. it hurts. it hurts so much that you don’t know how tears start flowing down from your eyes. sakusa isn’t looking at you, he’s pouring himself a glass of water in the open kitchen while you look at his back in disbelief from the living room. you wipe at your cheeks and when your boyfriend finally turns around is when he realizes how badly he’s screwed up.

“[y/n]-”

“save it, you jerk,” you spat, “go find another pain in the ass to sleep next to tonight, i’m going over to atsumu’s.”

sakusa’s eyes widen in fear, he keeps the half-empty glass on the counter haphazardly, following after you like a lost puppy until you slam the door on his face. he flinches, breathing unevenly and irrational thoughts racing in his brain.

“i’m sorry,” he says, leaning his forehead against the white door, “that was a jerk move.”

he hears shuffling on the inside—it felt like you were sliding your back down on the door. he heard a few sniffs, and guilt ate away at him. he didn’t mean to hurt you at all, but the words came out on their own. maybe it had been the swarm of fans outside the gym today because of hinata’s birthday that ticked him off. or the fact that one of his tires punctured on the way back home from work. he doesn’t know why all of this happened, but he wants to go back to how the two of you would be in the bathroom applying lotions and creams to your faces before going to bed. you would make jokes saying that kiyoomi looks like a ghost and he would say that you don’t look too different either. sometimes he’d poke your waist before leaving the bathroom just to see how you’d react. sometimes he’d kiss the top of your head and immediately make a yucky expression because some of the lotion got onto his lips and made his whole mouth taste like bitter, soapy flowers.

he doesn’t get a reply from you. but he still stands there, waiting for you to open the door or give him an earful.

and after around fifteen minutes, you do come back out. but with a bag filled with some essentials, and a mask covering your face. sakusa’s eyes perk up, “where are you going?”

“move,” you seethe, “i’m going to atsumu’s for the night.”

“i can’t let you do that,” he says, shaking his head and trying to cup your cheeks. you take a step back from him, and his heart breaks. he tries to look into your eyes but you’re looking everywhere but at his own.

“well excuse me if i don’t wanna be a pain in someone’s ass,” you mock, “now, move.”

“i didn’t mean it,” he cries. his eyes are red, and he looks miserable. you roll your eyes, even though you want to believe him, “omi, i’ve known you for five years. you say shit you mean when you’re angry.”

“i wasn’t angry,” he reasons, “i’ve had a bad day, and i know that doesn’t excuse anything but you’re not like her. i’m so sorry. you didn’t deserve it. i don’t deserve you.”

“look, kiyoomi,” you sigh, “figure it out, okay? i don’t wanna be treated like crap. i’m leaving for now, but i’ll come back later.”

“[y/n]-”

“no, omi,” you say, walking away from him, “i said, figure it out. i’ll be back tomorrow night. until then, sort your thoughts out. okay?”

you turn, walking towards the door and opening it. you glanced back one last time to say goodbye when you catch a glimpse of his face.

“please don’t leave me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. your eyes soften, “i’m not leaving you, dummy. i’m just goin’ over to atsumu’s to cool off for the night. i’ll be back tomorrow. till then, just. reflect, or something.”

“o-oh. um, okay. uh, can i ask you a question before you leave?”

you nod, humming as you grip your bag tightly. his voice is quiet, “are we gonna be okay?”

“i don’t know, omi. i don’t know. but we can try.”

— KUROO TETSURŌ.

kuroo was always sophisticated. you appreciated that about him. in fact, it's what drew you to him more. he was so ambitious in college; he could go on about volleyball for hours. it would be like that on your dates at first. you, him, a muffled movie, blankets and random talks about your futures together.

but when your futures are what drift you apart, can you really blame each other? you weren't college kids anymore—the pipedreams you shared weren't real, life caught on and jobs became hectic. schedules didn't fit with one another anymore. you grew up, and so did he.

and that might've taken a turn for the worse. the complete opposite of what you had imagined it would be.

"tetsurō," you say, losing your patience by the second, "i'm only asking for you to make time. you work overtime way more than you need to and it's honestly affecting our relationship-"

"does your job not affect our relationship?" he asks cockily, raising an eyebrow. you scoff, "you know i gave up that promotion so we could spend more time together. why can't you put in some effort too? it's not like i'm asking for much!"

"i'm only working overtime for us, [y/n]. where the hell do you think all the money goes? it's savings. for us. i work for us. what, am i just not supposed to do that anymore?"

"i didn't say that," you pause, "make time for me, tetsurō. that's all i'm asking from you."

he grumbles, running a hand through his gelled hair. and then, he says something under his breath that you thought would've never come out of his mouth.

"nari wasn't like this at all. tch."

you blink, tilting your head to make sure you heard him correctly. he's taking his coat off and hanging it in the rack. he doesn't see the way your eyes fill to the brim with tears as you whisper, "what?"

he pauses abruptly, turning around, "love, i didn't mean-"

"your ex didn't give up her promotion for you because she was fucking her boss behind your back," you grit your teeth, "if you want me to do that too, all you had to do was just say so."

kuroo stops in his tracks. mouth opening and closing like a goldish’s. he looks shocked at the sudden change in your attitude, but he knows it was deserved. you run up the stairs, locking yourself in your shared bedroom as your fiancé paces around the apartment in worry.

he fucked up. and that too, terribly. it took him a long while to move on from his first love—and who was the one who helped him throughout the process of him returning home drunk off his ass or needed soothing? you. you, his best friend, his roommate (at least, that's all you were back then), and someone who was irrevocably in love with him but never uttered a word.

it took him a long time to convince you that he was over his ex, and that he'd realized he was in love with you all along. college kids might've been all you were, but you were intelligent enough to know that he was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. his corny chemistry jokes, your clumsy habits, him being better at sports and you being better at video games, him knowing how exactly to make your coffee in the mornings, you knowing just what he needed whenever he was sick. you two just clicked. there was nothing complicated about it, really.

he was the one who proposed to you. and now, it seemed like he was the one who was breaking your relationship into pieces. kuroo cursed, taking his shoes off and racing up the stairs. just then, you stepped out with a bag.

"i'm going over to kenma's," you mutter, "leave me alone for now."

he shakes his head, "no."

you raise an eyebrow at him. your somewhat calm composure scares him, but he continues, "i can't let you leave. i need to fix this."

"you can't just ‘fix this’, tetsurō," you say, trying to walk down the stairs. but he grabs your arm, "i'm sorry. none of that should've been said."

"but you said it anyway, didn't you?" you retort, "what, you want a fortune cookie for apologizing?"

"[y/n]-"

"go back to your so-called nari if you miss her," you snarl, "i'm done."

"no," he cries, "we aren't done. stop."

you continue walking towards the front door, and he grabs your bag. you tsk, trying to take his hand off. but his grip is too strong.

"stop walking away and listen, will you?" he says. his voice is barely a whisper. your eyes cloud with anger, "i've been trying to talk to you for the past hour. but all you've done is demean my feelings for the entire time, and you even had the audacity to compare me to your ex. do you know how hard it was for me to date you in the beginning?"

"i-i do," he sighs, "please, just listen to me. i'm sorry. reminding you of my ex was uncalled for. i won't do that ever again. it was an honest mistake, i swear."

"tetsurō," your voice cracks, "do you even know just how much you hurt me tonight?"

and he sees it. you break down. you stop acting like everything is okay, and your eyes finally let out tears in front of him. you had probably already cried in the bedroom as you packed your overnight bag, but here you were, sobbing as you tightly held onto his dress shirt, hands forming fists. his eyes soften, and he cradles your cheek with his hand, "i know saying 'sorry' isn't gonna be enough. but i really am sorry. i love you, and i can't lose you because i was an idiot and said shit i didn't mean."

he looks up, a few tears of his own falling from his eyes, "i'm sorry. please, just-"

you place your head on his chest, your forehead making contact with his clothed skin. he looks down, abruptly stopping as his hands reach the back of your head, caressing your hair. your cries are quieter than before, tuning down to mere sniffs, "you hurt me, tetsurō."

"i know," he says, nodding, "i shouldn't have said any of that."

"do you," you pause, as if to wonder if you should really say it out loud. to save yourself of the pain, maybe. but you keep going, "do you still think about her?"

kuroo cups your cheeks, forcing you to look into his eyes, "i'm gonna be honest with you. i found some old high school photos on my laptop today. it's the only reason i even thought of her."

you whimper against him. god, how he hates seeing you like this. he kisses the top of your head before reassuring you, "you don't have to worry about me thinking about anyone who's not you. i can assure you that literally everyone around me knows how much i love you."

you almost roll your eyes. he lets out a sad chuckle before continuing, "no, really. kenma gets annoyed by how much i talk about you sometimes. so do some of my co-workers. i was gonna ask you to come to the expo with me, and they were all going to complain about me to you."

a giggle escapes your lips as some tears fall. kuroo presses a kiss to your nose before whispering, "you don't know how much i love you. the words simply aren't enough. and i hate myself for making you think any less."

"tetsu," you let out a sound before wrapping your arms around him. he laughs, wiping a stray drop away from the corner of his eyes. kuroo lets out a strangled sigh, "you don't know how much it means to me that you're calling me that again."

"tetsu," you say again. he looks down to see you peering up at him, "i love you. please don't say anything dumb like that ever again."

"if i do, i give you full permission to throw concentrated hydrochloric acid into my eyes."

— OIKAWA TŌRU.

you were embarrassed by your fiancé today. again.

oikawa tōru was your high-school sweetheart. he was your first love, your everything. his smile made your heart skip a beat, his touch made you forget about the rest of the world, hs gaze made you think all your problems were tiny compared to your love.

until he had to leave, that is. that was probably one of the most strenuous parts of your relationship—life, maybe. he loved you too much to make you feel the pain of his absence, and you loved him too much to let him go without you. so what did you do? you applied to universities in argentina for your courses.

and you got in. the day you broke the news to him through a surprise party with your friends by your side, you saw him be the happiest boy on earth. his eyes went from the dullest brown to being as bright as the sun. his smile returned, and you embarked on a journey. together.

years flew by. you grew older, more mature and responsible. you had some ups and downs—one really bad argument happened back in college where the two of you took some time off and thought about everything you wanted from life. but then he showed up outside your friend's apartment(where you were staying then). it was raining heavily that night, his hair was slopping wet and sticking to his face. he was with someone during your time off, and he realized that everything that he wanted in life was you.

because it was you, who understood him. you, who supported his dreams. you, who he was so irrevocably in love with that he compared everyone else to you. the three-month break meant nothing. the words he had said during the argument meant nothing. he was yours; he was always going to be yours. ever since he met you at the park as a child trying to chase his toy car, he was yours. remember that time when the two of you had your first kiss while star gazing on the roof of your home? yeah, he still blushes while thinking about it.

you were bitter at first—that he'd gone to someone else after the two of you had taken a break. but with time, you understood that too. he couldn't ask for more.

but today irked you. the past two months irked you. you were grown-ups now. you had responsibilities. just as how oikawa was your responsibility, you were his. so why is it that, in the past two months, oikawa tōru stood you up on every single date the two of you had meticulously planned to fit into both of your schedules? all six of them.

"tōru," your voice is stern, "what part of 'you stood me up' don't you understand? even after i spent a week trying to plan tonight out? i get that your career is important but you spending extra hours at the gym practicing isn't work. it's you being stubborn."

"if i'm stubborn then you're a hypocrite," he retorts, "you pin the blame on me all the time. do you not remember how you kept postponing because of your dumb endless meetings? when i was the one that was free? when it wasn't volleyball season?"

"those dumb meetings are why i earn so much more than last year," you're firm as you pour yourself a glass of wine, "you're being childish, tōru. do you know how embarrassing it was for me? at the same restaurant where you've been abandoning me for the past few months? it's been six times where i've had dinner alone."

"oh, so i'm being childish?" he asks, in a mocking tone. his voice gradually getting louder, "i was at work, [y/n]. i had to work. because i have a game next week. what part of that is so complicated for you to understand?"

"what part of 'we planned this beforehand because you have a game next week and won't be free then' is not understandable for you?" you retort, sipping from your glass as you walk toward the living room. the hardwood floors feel nice against your feet, and just as you're about to sit down on the couch, you hear something you never thought you would.

"tch. yuri wasn't like this at all when i was with her."

the glass of wine in your hand almost falls, but you get a hold of your grip in time. the mature argument you thought you were having isn't 'mature' anymore. oh no, it's much more. you place the glass on the coffee table before looking at him with fury.

"excuse me?" your voice is much ruder than before, "the girl you pity fucked? the girl you were with for the three months when we weren't together? the girl you fucked, pretending that it was me? really, tōru?"

he flinches at your sudden change in tone. his lips are pressed in a straight line as he finally looks at you. your eyebrows knitted together in confusion and betrayal, your eyes covered with rage—but oikawa knows that there are tears behind the clouded anger, ready to spill at any given moment. you were an open book to him, but right now, you were building walls between the two of you that he wasn't sure he could break.

"i-i didn't mean that-"

"oh yeah?" you taunt, stepping a little closer, "what would you do if i went back to the one-night-stand i had when we took a break, huh? what then? do you want me to tell you he was better than you?"

he winces at the words. gosh, he doesn't remember the last time you lost your cool in this way. the last time you two had an argument as serious as this, was in college. both of you were childish back then. but now? you were the one who was trying to stay calm and talk it out, whilst he acted like a total buffoon.

"you know what?" you voice cracks, "screw this. screw you. i'm going over to a friend's. fuck whoever you want."

your footsteps are like pins pricking into his heart when you walk up the stairs of your home. the slam of your shared bedroom door makes him flinch, and his eyes close. when they open, he sees your degree hung up on the living room shelf where his trophies and medals sit.

fuck.

he remembers how he'd warned you that argentina would be nothing like japan. back when the two of you were just kids. back when you left your country and came here, just because he would be alongside you.

he still remembers the day you’d shown him your acceptance letter. you moved halfway across the world for him. you didn’t even bother applying to japanese schools because of him. you learned a whole another language for him. and what did he do in return? he told you that the two-and-a-half month fling he had was better than you.

he curses himself as he runs up the staircase. when he opens the door to your bedroom, he finally sees you. sitting at the edge of your side of the bed, clutching a bag as small sobs escape your lips. your ring sits prettily on the nightstand, staring back at him in horror. the ring that was always on you, that you never took off, was sitting somewhere that wasn’t your finger.

he walks up to you slowly. taking in a sharp breath, he kneels down in front of you. he takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb against your skin. you choke back a sob as you ask, “what do you want now?”

“i’m sorry,” he voice is soft, “whatever i said down there was uncalled for. i was acting like a child. you shouldn’t have had to go through that. i’m pretty sure that one-night-stand you had would treat you better than how i’m doing at the moment.”

you chuckle before mumbling, “all i wanted was to spend time with you. we even planned it together because i didn’t wanna bother you with the upcoming season.”

god, how he wishes iwa-chan was here right now so he could get a beating. this is probably the first time he wanted to get beaten up by his best friend willingly.

“i know. i’m sorry. i love you, and i think i just,” he pauses, as if thinking of what to say. or confirming in his mind that it’s the right thing to tell you, “i think i said what i said because you weren’t agreeing with me. i got so used to you doing things for me that i took you for granted. and you didn’t deserve any of that. you deserve someone way better than me. hell, you studied your ass off in high-school so you could come to a whole new country just because of me. you did so much for me. i guess... i guess that got to my head a little. you love me so, so much and i’m so grateful. but [y/n], i proposed to you because i don’t think i can even breathe properly without you by my side. so call me selfish, but i still want you to stay. please don’t leave me because i was an arrogant idiot who said things he didn’t really mean.”

“i’m not going to leave you, tōru,” you murmur, “i’m not going anywhere just because we had a stupid argument. we’re both adults.”

“do you um,” he’s scared of completing his sentence because you might say yes, “still need to go over to your friend’s house? i can drop you if you’d like. i don’t want you driving while you’re feeling so low.”

“no, no,” you wipe away your stray tears with your other hand, still holding onto oikawa. you pause, pondering if you really want to say the words you’re thinking, “tōru?”

he hums.

“please don’t say anything like that ever again,” you look at your lap instead of his honey-brown eyes, “i don’t know what i’d do if you did.”

he understands what you mean. he gets it. he knows that you will leave if he repeats his mistake. because as complacent as you were, you still had a lot of respect for yourself.

“i promise.”

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hawkins-losers · 2 years

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Pillow talk | Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: You and Steve have sex, something feels different than the other times

Word count: 0.5k

Request: Could u possibly do a Steve Harrington x reader with prompt 58? I’m just a slut for love confessions. Thank you! (“You make my heart feel some type of way and it’s freaking me out.”)

A/N This request was from @chevyharvelle but I accidentally deleted it...

The soft glow of the full moon mixed with the garden lights illuminated Steve’s room the perfect amount as you laid in his bed post-love making. You couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but you could see the glow of his skin and the beaming smile on his lips, having reached sexual nirvana less than ten minutes ago.

‘’You’re so beautiful,’’ he said in the quiet of the night, tucking your hair behind your ear as you laid on your side, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed.

A glowing smile bloomed on your lips, feeling pure bliss through your whole body. You had definitely excelled your daily required dose of serotonin and oxytocin.

A beaming smile bloomed on your lips, feeling pure bliss through your whole body.

You didn’t think Steve could be so affectionate and gentle in bed - he could be such an over-confident douchebag sometimes -, but he proved you wrong. He wasn’t what you’d consider a ‘rough’ person either, but it still surprised you how sensual, caring and selfless he was. He wanted to take things slow and really feel it, not just fuck. He made eye contact with you, pressed sweet kisses all over you. He made sure you were feeling pleasure, not just him.

You didn’t know if he was like that with all the girls he’d been with, but you felt damn lucky to experience it.

“You make my heart feel some type of way and it’s freaking me out,” he confessed in a whisper.

You scooted closer and lair your head on his chest, feeling Steve’s arms close around you. ‘’It’s called love.’’ You kissed his chest, which was still sticky and warm from your activities.

‘’Is it?’’ he asked, genuinely questioning.

You raised yourself on an elbow, looking down at him. ‘’What do you mean? You’ve been in love before, right? You and Nancy-’’

He shook his head. ‘’I’ve never felt like that with Nance. It was never this intense.’’ Steve grabbed your other hand and kissed it from your reversed palm to your wrist. ‘’I’m gonna sound dumb, but when I’m with you, I feel like I’m on a fucking cloud of happiness. Nothing in the world makes me more happy than being with you.’’

‘‘A cloud?’‘ you repeated, holding your laugh. It was an odd comparison.

‘‘Don’t make fun of me. I’m just telling you the way I feel it, okay? Sorry that I’m not some romantic Shakespeare character.’‘

You had never taken him for one either - despite his window-climbing à la Romeo Montague.

‘‘I love you the way you are, Steve Harrington. Even when you write me stupidly cute little notes. Dear Y/N, I want you to know that I really like you. I think about you all the time and can't help but look at your beautiful face during passing period. You aren't like the other girls and I'd study science everyday if it meant I could spend more time with you. I love you Y/N and I hope you feel the same.‘‘

Steve was embarrassed, yet shocked and amazed at your excellent memory. These were exactly the words he had written to you on a piece of paper during class. He had slipped it in your locker between two periods. ‘‘How do you remember what I wrote? I wrote that two months ago.’‘

You shrugged, your cheeks flushing. ‘’I may have read it a few times...’’

‘‘I think more than a few.’‘

You giggled and Steve kissed your cheek down to your lips.

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3 @cursedandromedablack @Slashersimpfor @savagejane1 @wh0reforbucknasty @eddiemunson-slut @slvdsjjk @hehehehannahthings @dreamdancers-world @grace-loux @iamharrystyleslover @matildavol6 @Original_babababoo @eddiemunsonbby @notbeforelong @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog @tatespillows @alwayslexii @lilygreennn @milkiane @imahomeslice @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun

Steve Harrington taglist: @dylanstilinskiposts @captainbuckyyy12 @valevalentyne @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddie_munsons_girlfriend @scarlet-kazuha @uhidklol-26 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @swiftbyul @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie @tinfoilhat2719 @straycatarang @wayfaring----stranger @starstruckspring @fourlokiss @mi-amoree1111 @starshipsxx @ghoulishlygrey

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve stranger things #stranger things s4 #stranger things imagine #steve harrington blurb

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girlreblogger · 2 months

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and then there were 3 💿

don’t get mad. i’m saying what needs to be said and this the last time.

the blk yn “stereotypical” stories are self indulgent and the relationships are unfulfilling and unhealthy. yeah.

i never mentioned fully the stereotype thing that’s associated with blk yn fics and that’s because i have never really understood what ppl meant by it. and this isn’t to be funny towards the ppl that say that abt those certain fics.

i somewhat? get what ppl mean by yn is written as a stereotype when it comes to the toxicity in fics but because these stories are written by blk women for blk women who feel comfortable with those types of behaviors, dynamics and relationships i feel it shouldn’t be seen as blk women writing themselves as stereotypes because the comfortability with that idea of relationships comes from somewhere and it’s not no stereotype.

stereotype: 1. a widely held but fixed and oversimplified image or idea of a particular type of person

that word itself just projects an idea on those ppl and (not to use a buzz word but) dehumanizes them. it dilutes and dismisses the perception and character those women see themselves as and i don’t personally think that okay.

lots of ppl are accustomed to or find comfort in certain dynamics and behaviors for so many different and very personal reasons. (whether extreme or not.) without even knowing sometimes we all do or have because we are still ppl at the end of the day. so chalking up someone’s humanness to a stereotype is unfair to me. it’s the same shit that ppl did to us back in the day and still do till this day and i find it unnecessary to do amongst ourselves.

that’s why i chose to say the relationships in those books and fics are unfulfilling. the dynamics, behaviors and all that ain’t healthy. if we being real. and that’s more than just a stereotype. i also dk what ppl mean by her being a stereotype in particular. maybe being extroverted? ion know.

but ppl who want to write those things are going to do what they want but that doesn’t mean..

blk women don’t deserve or that it’s impossible for us to have more exposure to more fluffy and healthy dynamics in books with us as the main leads (also all blk ppl cause not just women read books obvi and want fluffy romance that’s another convo tho). it’s also important we showcase blk girls in various ways because we all are very different.

**we should keep in mind a fictional! character we call blk yn can be a ya (young adult) so mistakes and learning experiences in fics aren’t always useless. (though it seems we’ve had enough of it im just saying)

with different ways of thinking, with different styles, quirks, and personalities. right now it’s mostly coquettes, bimbos, and baddies being written almost similarly each time. and that’s perfectly fine but i think there’s something else that ppl are wanting to see but i would like to know what exactly.

do you guys want see her in different styles? talking differently? as an ambivert or a shy girl? someone who doesn’t talk much or someone who does? like what would be the opposite of the “stereotypes” you normally see?

and how can we as a community make some kind of change to see ourselves differently.

those few ppl when i said “as a community”

don’t get quiet now.

but honestly, because of that maybe give writers prompts and requests with what you’d like to read. there are many writers who always have requests open and lots of times those asks are some of their most popular posts!

ppl started only reading or getting used to smutty and plug books cause that’s all there was, (there was an influx at the time) especially since 2020. that’s also when the blk fic community began to grow so there were more blk fics and writers than it used to be. so maybe we can try and do that with fluffy, fantasy and wtv other fics.

**also there are some really good books on kindle for you guys to try with blk girls as the lead that might be interesting for you. here’s some of my suggestions: sunny disposition! and excuse me while i ugly cry! (these are just from the top of my head)

i personally have noticed so much about myself from reading more wholesome stories and stuff so reading other fics or books sometimes isn’t for me. it’s books i’ve read that i look back at and see how much i have grown from what i used to be into. that’s why i don’t reblog as much anymore too because i want to find more that is more personally up my alley.

so yeah let’s just try and find and create more books that are healthier. blk girls deserve love, kindness, to be treated gently not weak (or a like a child) and have sweet stories. stories and portrayals that heal us.

we can have suspense, drama, mystery, ups and downs, and even rain but i think a lot of us just want the sunshiney stuff. maybe that way we can digest the suspenseful and dramatic stories (that aren’t toxic) in a better way.

like i said in my last post we read and write for comfort so i think we can use this as a way to heal ourselves as well.

ps. (even some “healthy stuff” can be unhealthy lowkey but that’s another convo)

muah

also thanks for all the likes on my previous posts! i was nervous ppl wouldn’t understand what i was trying to say but the good feedback has definitely given me confidence!

no bars

#x black reader #x black reader fluff #black reader #x black fem reader #aot x black reader #black fanfiction #anime x black!reader #jjk x black reader #connie x black reader #x fem black reader #eren x black reader fluff #nigga eren.#xblackreader #gojo x black reader #i hope i’m not sounding passive aggressive but i said what i said in every post i have made.#this something ppl should have been saying

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slut4thebroken · 1 year

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Space wolf

Pairing | Keith Kogane x reader

Summary | Keith brings home a wolf, cat person!reader is not happy

Warnings | cringe worthy fluff

Words | 1.5k

Notes | I’m not used to writing fluff so I’m sorry if it’s bad lol. I made this in November and it’s been done for a while and I’m trying to get over my fear of posting my fics lmao

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“What the fuck is that?” Was the first thing you asked when you finally returned to the castle. You were on a mission with the blade, so you weren’t there when he arrived.

“It’s my wolf.” Keith smiled, petting its head. “His name is Kosmo.”

“Why do you have a wolf??”

“Is this her?” The woman standing next to him gave him a knowing smile. Keith blushed and introduced you to her before turning back to you.

“This is my mom, Krolia.” He told his mom about you? No, don't be silly… He probably told her about everyone on the team.

“It’s really nice to meet you.” You smiled, trying to act normal after Keith just came back and all of a sudden had a mom and wolf. Speaking of…

“Why do you have a wolf?” You whisper yelled at him. Krolia excused but neither of you acknowledged her.

“We found him! What was I supposed to do? Leave him?” You stared at him with wide eyes.

“Yes!” You said in disbelief and he looked at you like you were crazy. “It’s a wolf-“

“First of all, don’t call him “it.’” You rolled your eyes. “Second of all, it’s okay for you to adopt an animal but not me?”

“That’s different.”

“How?!”

“Princess is a dignified, intelligent, actually useful cat. That,” You pointed at the furry beast sitting obediently by his side, “is a wolf. Not even a dog- a wolf!”

“Kosmo is a thousand times more useful than Princess!” He touched Kosmo and all of a sudden they were both standing right in front of you. You tried taking a step back but he wrapped his arm around you and put his hand on your lower back, pulling you into him.

You gasped and stared at him wide eyed. Partly because of what the wolf just did but mostly because Keith was different. You didn’t notice at first that he was even taller than you now, or that he just seemed to be bigger in general. You put your hands on his chest to ground yourself. Yep. Definitely bigger.

“I missed you.” He said before leaning in to kiss you. You snaked your hands up to grab his hair and the back of his neck. His other hand reached up to grab your hip. You pulled back but stayed close to him.

“It hasn’t been that long.” You laughed breathlessly.

“It has for me.” This time, when he leaned down, he put his head next to yours and wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you. You tightened your arms around him.

“How long?” You asked quietly.

“Two years.” That made you pull back just enough to look at him.

“What? Where were you?”

“Quantum abyss. Long story.” You frowned, running your hands through his hair and lightly scratching his head.

“I’m sorry.” You wanted to know more, but knew he’d tell you when he’s ready.

“Don’t be. I missed you a lot, but it was nice being able to get to know Krolia more.” He gave you a small smile.

“I can’t believe you found her.” You smiled back at him.

“Wait so you’re- you’re half Galra?” Your eyes widened at the realization. He did not look half Galra. You probably would’ve guessed maybe ⅛ Galra? But not half. You moved his hair out of the way to look at his ear then moved his lips to check his teeth.

“What are you doing?” He chuckled.

“You don’t look half Galra. I would ask if you’re sure she’s your mom but she looks exactly like you. It’s kinda freaky actually.”

“She does?”

“I’m serious, you guys look almost identical. Like if you were full Galra and a girl, that’s what you would look like. Don’t worry though, milfs aren’t my type.” You said teasingly and he pouted. God he’s adorable.

“I only have eyes for one Galra Kogane.” You smiled at him, playing with his hair again. “Spoiler alert: it’s you.” He smiled sheepishly and looked down.

“I really missed you.” He hugged you again. After a beat he pulled away and gave you another kiss.

He managed to convince you to let Kosmo meet Princess. That’s how you found yourself walking to your room, Keith beside you and Kosmo trailing behind him. You opened the door and Princess ran up to Keith. He picked her up and scratched her head a bit, listening to her purr.

“I missed you too.” He chuckled when she started trying to rub her head on his face. “Kosmo, stay.” He waited outside the door while you sat on your bed with Keith and Princess. You gave each other a nervous look before he called for Kosmo.

Princess immediately became hostile, jumping off Keith and hiding behind you. You just hoped that she’d calm down enough to sense that you didn’t see him as a threat. You don’t really know why, or how it happened, but you have a similar bond with your cat as Allura does with the mice.

You turned around on the bed and put her in your lap, hiding her from Kosmo who was getting curious and starting to move closer. You closed your eyes and lightly pet her head, trying to let her feel your emotions toward the wolf. She was like this with Keith at first too, and it didn’t help that he was apprehensive about her also.

You felt her start to calm down and become more curious rather than scared. She stood up on her back legs, resting her front paws on your chest, and peered over your shoulder to investigate.

Keith had Kosmo sit, so the only movement was his panting and his tail sweeping across the floor.

“It’s okay.” You whispered and she dropped down into your lap then started walking toward the space on the bed between you and Keith. Kosmo leaned forward as far as he could without getting up and Princess flinched back. When she realized he was only sniffing and not trying to attack she moved closer and sniffed him as well.

“This is going a lot better than I thought it would.” Keith whispered to you.

“Good thing too. Cause if they hate each other, Princess isn’t the one to go. Seniority and all that.” You whispered back, lightheartedly. Out of the corner of your eye you watched Princess jump to the floor.

“I hate to break it to you… but if we’re going by seniority, Kosmo and I aren’t the ones leaving.” He leaned into your space and gave you a small smirk. You narrowed your eyes at him.

You lunged at him, pushing him back on the bed until you were laying on top of him. He immediately started laughing alongside you and fighting back. He got you on your back and you started tickling him so he grabbed your wrists and held them down. Both of your laughter died down until you were just breathing heavily and smiling like idiots. A sudden weight being dropped on top of him, making him fall onto you, forced a breath out of you.

“Ow…” You watched as Kosmo fell off of Keith until he was laying next to you, panting and ready to play. You gave him a faux glare.

“I’ll let it slide this time, wolf. But if it happens again, especially if we’re in the middle of something, you will be banned from this room.” You tried to keep the serious expression on your face but broke out into a fit of laughter when Kosmo responded by tilting his head and looking at Keith.

“She’ll warm up to you soon, don’t worry.” Keith whispered and Kosmo seemed content with that answer. He yawned and then put his head down on your arm.

“He better not drool on me.” You said when he closed his eyes. There was a beat of silence and you looked at Keith who had a guilty expression.

“He’s kind of a drooler… sorry.”

“Remind me why I let you and the cosmic wolf in my room again? Let alone on my bed.”

“Because you love me.” He smiled, releasing one of your wrists to tuck your hair behind your ear. “And by extension, him too.” He added and you scoffed.

“Is that so?”

“Yep.” He rested his chin on your chest and you brought your free hand to his hair, playing with it and scratching his head. He closed his eyes and he-

He started purring.

You had to check to make sure it wasn’t just Princess but she was laying down on the other side of the room and you could feel the vibrations on your chest.

“I do love you.” You whispered. “And I guess, maybe, the space beast too.”

“You know you can just call him Kosmo.” He turned his head so his cheek was on your chest now. He was still laying on top of you and even if he crushed you to death, you wouldn’t even consider moving. Kind of like when your cat lays on you.

He opened his eyes to look at you before saying, “I love you too.” You smiled and he closed his eyes again, continuing purring.

“You better not drool on me either.” You could feel him smile against your chest.

“No promises.”

#keith kogane x reader #keith kogane #voltron #vld kosmo #kosmo #reader is a cat person #fluff

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celestial-dreamscapes · 2 years

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Taking care of you on your period - Obey Me

Characters: Lucifer, Asmodeus, Diavolo

A/N: I’ve seen a lot of these types of posts, but they don’t feel specific enough for me, so I did it myself 💀 Might do other parts with the other characters eventually or if it gets requested. Reposting cause this isn’t showing up in tags :’) Requests are open!

Warnings: mentions of throwing up, blood, nudity (not sexual), and mention of fainting

Word count: 1.7k

part 2

part 3

Lucifer:

-At the House of Lamentation, every day is a different person’s turn to cook. Conveniently enough, on the day it’s your turn, you’re hardly able to get out of your bed without the whole room spinning

-He definitely checks on whoever is meant to be cooking dinner every day a while before the usual time everyone sits to eat, since his brothers aren’t exactly the most punctual and responsible people around

-So he goes to check on you thinking you’re just being lazy and stuff, but he’s also a bit worried because he hasn’t seen you for a good portion of the day but didn’t realize it because of how busy he was

-After a while of lying down and feeling your body burning, you decide to try and pace around your room for a bit, hoping that a bit of movement would help ease the pain at least a little bit

-Except you’re still suffering so you’re kind of curled in on yourself, hunched over because it hurts to move but staying still feels like hell and it feels like nothing is working

-And you’re also trying not to puke the tiny amount of food you were able to just barely eat that morning because of the nausea

-I just know this man gets back pain, he definitely has some type of heating pad already that he keeps hidden away in his desk or something maybe like a couple rice packs or whatever the devildom version of those would be

-He’ll get you two of them, one for your back, one for your stomach and he also gives you a heavy pillow to put over your thighs in case they start hurting too (the weight helps quite a bit with the burning, and you feel less antsy)

-Once you feel better and are able to talk without the pain bothering you, he’s definitely gonna ask you more about it and if it’s that bad every month, so that he can be more prepared, especially if it gets worse the next time you get your period

-He’ll look into it some more and get you whatever supplements or meds you need (if you need any) to help with the pain and make sure you take them as often as you should

-Lucifer is such a workaholic but he’ll take a break since it’s for you 🥰

-Tbh he will probably give you an annoying lecture at some point ... as if you don’t know what you’re doing 😭 you just gotta tell him you obviously do know what you’re doing since it’s you feeling the pain and you’re doing what you can to take care of it but you’re not a doctor or able to just magically completely heal yourself and he’ll kinda shut up and stop being patronizing about it

-Will let you lay your head on his lap and he'll either play with your hair or rub your back gently until you either start feeling better, want to do something or want to get something to eat

Asmo:

-Asmo definitely has his fair share of experience with this kind of thing, I’m sure a few of the brothers do, but even though he loves to party and stuff, I doubt he’d just ditch everyone he’s with right after, he’d be attentive and especially if they got to know each other for a bit longer than just one night or a day, he’d learn to take care of them better

-He’ll notice you’re not feeling well and then ask you about it, but he doesn’t really need details, since he’s already familiar with humans and whatnot

-His bath is absolutely ginormous, so he’d definitely draw you a very hot bath (not to the point of it being super painful but enough to drown out the cramps with the amount of heat) + bubble bath if you’d prefer and Epsom salts to relieve the burning feeling on your back + other oils so the smells help you relax but nothing too strong

-If you’re comfortable with it he’ll keep you company while you take your bath and talk if you’re not feeling up to talking but don’t wanna be alone

-Or if you wanna play music to fill the silence and help you relax he’ll let you pick of course

-I feel like his room is very cool and not too stuffy which is perfect because the cramps make your body heat up a whole lot so if you’d like to stay, he’d let you nap on his bed and also bring you a heating pad just to help any more pain, just in case

-From the amount of cramps you were having + their intensity, he would know that you shouldn’t eat anything right away especially if you were nauseous as well, so he’d wait until about an hour and a half or so after you fall asleep to order something warm for you + he’d ask Solomon for recommendations because he’d know what foods are good for humans and stuff (he offers to cook something himself and Asmo has to hold himself back from telling him that the goal isn’t to hospitalize you 😭)

-He wouldn’t get anything spicy of course, since it could make your cramps even worse, and he doesn’t wanna risk it after they finally calm down/go away

-If it’s caused by vitamin deficiencies, he’ll order vitamin supplements for you and set alarms on his phone and remind you (over text or in person) when it’s time to take it, just in case you forget

-This man would absolutely not care the slightest bit if you happen to get some blood on his sheets, he may be super particular about lots of things but he knows that bedsheets being slightly stained is not a big deal and it hardly takes any time to wash them anyway, he’s so sweet too he’d probably try to make you feel better by saying he’s been meaning to change them anyway :’)

-He’ll gladly cuddle with you if you want, but he’s more than okay with giving you space if you want to just rest alone, as long as you have everything you need and have your phone near you so you can text or call him if you need anything else

-Will not hesitate to tell his brothers to shut up if they’re being loud when you’re resting because you need to replenish your energy and your hearing becomes more sensitive after all the pain (especially if you threw up before or were dizzy and your ears were ringing)

Diavolo:

-Let’s say you’re staying at the castle for a little while when you get your period all of a sudden

-It’s the first time you get it since coming to the devildom (since being around a bunch of demons would obviously cause quite a bit of stress, it just stopped for a while), so you’re a bit thrown off since it’s the last thing on your mind and you haven’t been keeping track of your cycle

-He’s not completely clueless when it comes to the differences between species and all that but he’s still not super great with how differently human bodies work in comparison to demons so he might just think you’re going to bleed to death for a little bit when you tell him :/ so you have to reassure him that you’re not gonna die and that unfortunately it is a very regular thing for humans

-Tbh you probably won’t be able to give him the whole rundown in detail of how it works because of how much pain you’re in so you just ask him to get you painkillers, and you go to take a nap and hope the pain fades once you fall asleep

-Instead, after napping for a bit the painkillers seem to just wear off as if you never took any to begin with and the pain comes back full force, so you ask him to draw you a hot bath

-The bath doesn’t seem to be helping much even after over half an hour of soaking in it so you decide to get out

-But then you get extremely dizzy all of a sudden, so you put on a towel robe and lay down on his bed to try and wait out the ringing in your ears + the dizziness and your heart beating insanely fast

-Conveniently enough you don’t have your phone on you and he’s who knows where probably working so you can’t even try to call him to help you (to get you a heating pad, painkillers, anything really, even just to have someone else’s presence because it legitimately feels like you’re about to die and not even in peace)

-You notice you got blood on the robe while lying down, so you go to the bathroom to get a pair of underwear and a pad (which you manage to do) but you get super nauseous all of a sudden so you just. sit on the floor for a bit, wearing basically nothing and hoping you’re not about to pass out or straight up die alone, partially naked on the cold bathroom floor

-After not too long (but what feels like a whole damn hour to you) he finally goes to his room and so you call him and he’s kinda panicky, but he brings you a new robe since you bled over the other one and helps you get up and walk over to his bed which is thankfully not too far from the bathroom since it’s in the room

-And then he helps you lie down under the covers, and then gives you a water bottle + he helps you drink from it since you’re dizzy and can’t really lift your head properly

-Gets into bed after you and just chills beside you, kinda rubbing your back and just making sure you’re not in too much pain (basically ignoring all the work he has to do)

-Makes sure you have food and water almost immediately after you wake up so the dizziness will go away faster

-Diavolo would feel really bad about not being able to help more, and I feel like he’d be the most likely to try to look into other solutions (aka stuff not meant for humans) if you find that human medicine and supplements aren’t doing anything even after months, he doesn’t want to see you in pain ever, let alone every single month, so he’d definitely want to fix the problem as soon as possible (and you do too obviously, although not exactly in the same way)

#lucifer x reader #obey me x reader #obey me! x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#asmo x reader #asmodeus x reader headcanons #asmo x reader headcanons #diavolo x reader #diavolo x reader headcanons #obey me #om #omswd #omswd x reader #lucifer x reader headcanons #obey me headcanons #om headcanons #obey me!#obey me! headcanons

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scary-grace · 7 months

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Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 3) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

Chapter 3

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it. Except now you know damn well that the thing that’s wrong with it isn’t the house itself – it’s what’s in it. What was put in it. What’s stuck in it. “In most hauntings, ghosts are summoned from the world between by conjurers, whether they like it or not,” Aizawa says. “These ghosts are bound unwillingly to specific locations and left to haunt them as they see fit. Eri was this type of ghost.”

“So’s Himiko,” Jin says. He pauses. “I think.”

“So was Magne,” Spinner adds. “She didn’t like it here.”

“Can’t she go back?” you ask.

Aizawa shakes his head. “Once a ghost has been summoned and bound, there’s only one way out,” he says – but he doesn’t tell you what that way is. Of course. “As I said, in most cases, the ghosts are bound to their haunts unwillingly. The ghosts who came willingly are the ones to be scared of.”

You’re smart enough to catch the implication. Most of the ghosts in the neighborhood didn’t want to be here. “You think Tomura did.”

“A ghost of his strength could have resisted the summons, and killed the conjurer who made it,” Aizawa says. “Your ghost is here because he chose to be.”

“Which is way we brought you to old man Aizawa,” Jin says. Aizawa, who’s not actually that old, rolls his eyes. “He’s got one of those, too.”

Not Eri. It’s not Eri, and Shinsou’s not a ghost, so – “Your husband’s a ghost?”

“He was a ghost,” Aizawa corrects. He looks even more tired than before. “I suppose it’ll be easiest to tell you what happened. It’ll cut down on the useless questions you’ll undoubtedly ask. My husband Hizashi was summoned form the world between two hundred and nineteen years ago, to haunt an opera house that was being built –”

Aizawa’s husband was a very powerful ghost, he says. He could have resisted the summons, but he didn’t, and he spent a hundred and fifty years terrorizing the opera house and everyone who set foot in it before the last person who owned it burnt it to the ground on purpose. “That was a mistake,” Aizawa says. “Destroying a haunt releases the ghost to wander. Releasing a ghost like Hizashi is – unwise.”

“Look up the opera ghost murders,” Spinner stage-whispers. You glance back at him. “Let’s just say Hizashi spent a lot of time embodied.”

Tomura’s words flash through your head: I can’t get it from you or the dog. You’d die. You stare at Aizawa. “Your husband killed people?”

“People who deserved it. Or people he felt deserved it,” Aizawa says. His voice is flat. “Ghosts aren’t human. They don’t think like humans do. Their sense of right and wrong is accordingly – skewed.”

“Sometimes Papa killed people who hurt other people,” Eri says. “Sometimes he killed people who were mean to their waiters. But that was before he met Dad.”

You’re still stuck a few sentences back, slowly piecing something together. “The energy doesn’t last long when they’re – embodied,” you say, stumbling on the word. “Your ghosts are just killing people all the time?”

“No,” Aizawa says shortly. “The ghosts in this neighborhood, excepting yours, are former ghosts. They no longer have that power.”

“We’re people now. We don’t need it,” Eri explains to you. She looks back to Aizawa. “Tell how you met Papa!”

Aizawa sighs. “My current job is as an author. Prior to this, I was an investigative journalist. My specialty was exposés, and I often took risks to ensure the truth came to light. During this time, unbeknownst to me, I caught Hizashi’s attention. He began watching me, following me – helping me, although our definitions of helpfulness diverged more often than not. His word for it was ‘haunting’.”

That’s Tomura’s word for it, too. A shiver runs down your spine. “On my last assignment, I was investigating corruption in the police force,” Aizawa says. “While I discovered plenty of it, I also discovered something worse – a serial murderer, using his role in law enforcement to conceal his crimes. I knew that no one would believe me unless I brought them incontrovertible proof. I took appropriate precautions, or so I thought, then confronted him to force a confession.”

“And it didn’t work,” you guess.

Aizawa’s fingers trace a scar under his right eye in a movement that almost looks unconscious. “It didn’t go as planned,” he says. “I was badly injured. If Hizashi hadn’t intervened, I would have been killed. As it was, I fell unconscious. When I woke up in the hospital three days later, Hizashi was there. Alive.”

“Not a ghost anymore,” you clarify. Aizawa nods. “How?”

“Ghosts can embody themselves permanently if they kill someone and take the complete measure of their life-force,” Aizawa says. “That’s what Hizashi did, and Eri. That’s what they all did.”

Eri killed someone. You glance at her, more than a little creeped out, and find her smiling a gap-toothed smile. “I had to,” she says. Her pupils open and shut again. “She was hurting Hitoshi. She made him cry.”

“Did you mean it?” you ask lamely.

“To be people?” Eri frowns for a moment. “I must have. Or it wouldn’t have worked.”

“The embodiment thing doesn’t just happen,” Jin says. “They don’t just trip and fall – like, whoops, I’m embodied now! They have to want it.”

“They have to want it more than they want anything else,” Aizawa says. “More than they’ve ever wanted anything else in all their existence. It’s not something that happens often.”

“Which is a good thing,” Spinner puts in. “Because once you’ve got one, you’ve got it for life.”

So every ghost – former ghost – in the neighborhood had at least a split second where they wanted to be human. “If a ghost who was summoned unwillingly becomes human, their contract with the conjurer who summoned them is broken,” Aizawa says. “The conjurers often come back to exact punishment, and while a ghost in this world has significant power, most permanently embodied ghosts have roughly the same power as a human.”

“Papa’s strong,” Eri argues.

“I said ‘most’,” Aizawa reminds her. “When Eri’s conjurer came for her, Hizashi’s residual abilities allowed us to defeat him. But Hizashi’s conjurer, should he reappear, would pose a significant threat. Every family in this neighborhood is under a similar threat.”

“Which is why we’re all here,” Spinner says. “The ghost in your house is so strong that his presence hides the rest of us completely. If Atsuhiro’s conjurer or Himiko’s or Hizashi’s looked here for them, they wouldn’t be able to find them. All they’d see is your ghost.”

“That’s why we all want to meet him so bad,” Jin says. “He’s the boss! The baddest guy around! And we owe him, see? If not for him, they’d find us, easy.”

You look at their faces, Eri and Jin and Spinner. They all look pretty enthusiastic at the prospect of your ghost. Nothing like the way you feel when you think about him, some weird mix of gratefulness and comfort and confusion and fear. You look away from them, to Aizawa. He doesn’t look sad, exactly. Not resigned, either. But when he looks at you, you get the sense that he understands it. He’s been where you are, or somewhere like it, and suddenly you’re intensely grateful to Jin for bringing you here. You aren’t crazy for having mixed feelings about your ghost. Aizawa had them, maybe still has them, too.

“This information, while interesting, is ultimately irrelevant to you,” Aizawa says. You didn’t want to say it, but he’s right. “I imagine you’re more interested in how to handle your interactions with – Tomura, was it?”

You nod. “He hasn’t hurt me. I don’t think he wants to hurt me. But I don’t think he knows what he wants.”

“That’s likely. For all his power, he doesn’t seem to have much experience actually haunting anyone,” Aizawa says. “The fact that the house stood empty for so long suggests that he’s selective, and the actions he’s taken suggest that he has an interest in keeping you appeased. That gives you leverage.”

“You kind of need that,” Spinner says. “Like Aizawa said, they don’t get right and wrong like we do. Magne thought all kinds of shit was okay at first. It gets better if they’re embodied, but since yours isn’t gonna do that, you’ll have to explain a lot.”

“Frame the situation in terms of how the action you want the ghost to take will benefit the ghost,” Aizawa says. “For instance, if you want privacy, explain how respecting your privacy will increase your comfort in the house and make you more likely to stay there. Avoid asking him to do things.”

“Like asking him not to stare at me while I sleep?”

“No,” Aizawa says. “Avoid asking him to undertake tasks for you. The means he’ll use to achieve them will likely be unpleasant.”

You think of the coyote. All you needed was for it to leave, but Tomura basically tore its head off. “I don’t need him to do anything,” you say. “Just to leave me alone.”

“Sorry, sister. That’s not happening,” Jin says, and your heart sinks. “That house has been empty ever since we moved in. He’s been waiting for somebody to haunt this whole time, and he picked you. You’re his now. He told Himiko so.”

“Magne said she got the same vibe,” Spinner adds. “It’s not so bad, having a ghost. Think of it like having a really good roommate, or a best friend –”

“Or the coolest little sister ever,” Jin adds, grinning. “All the best people I know used to be dead!”

“I’m not dead! Take that back,” Eri protests. “I’m just your kind of alive now. And it’s the best kind of alive. There are flavors. And tastes –”

Spinner asks Eri what kind of tastes she likes best, and that sets all three of them off. You look back at Aizawa, who’s studying you with that same flat look in his eyes. “I don’t think mine wants a best friend,” you say.

“Mine didn’t,” Aizawa says. You wonder how he ended up married to his ghost, raising kids with his ghost. If that was really what he wanted. If he ever had a choice. “I don’t think so, either.”

When you head back to your house, it’s with an armful of books and a low, heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Phantom greets you cheerfully the instant you latch the gate behind you. You wonder how she got out when you know you left her inside, but the answer comes to you almost ahead of the question. Tomura must have let her out. He’s watched the whole process play out hundreds of times by now – Phantom going to the door, aiming sad looks your way, crying until you open it – and he did exactly what you do. You remember Aizawa’s admonition against asking Tomura to do things. You didn’t ask for this, and he did it anyway.

He materializes the instant you close the front door. “Where did you go? You were gone for hours.”

“I went to see the neighbors,” you say. His eyes flash. “To ask them about you.”

Now he looks confused. “Why didn’t you ask me about me?”

“Because you might lie, and I needed the truth.” You wait to see if Tomura will argue, but he doesn’t. “They had a lot to say.”

“What did they say about me?”

“They said you’re strong,” you say. Tomura goes from suspicious to proud of himself in about two seconds flat. “That’s why they moved here. You’re so strong that you can hide them from the people who summoned them.”

“It’s their fault they need to hide. They embodied themselves, like idiots.” Tomura at least sounds like he’s against permanent embodiment, which is a relief for you. “They can stay. I don’t care. As long as you stay.”

“I can stay,” you allow. You think of what Aizawa said and give one of his negotiating tactics a try. “I’ll be a lot more comfortable staying here if you give me some space.”

“Space,” Tomura repeats. “What kind of space?”

“When I’m in the bathroom. Humans like being alone in there,” you say. He nods. “And at night when I’m sleeping. We like to be alone then, too.”

“Not everybody,” Tomura argues. “In those movies –”

“I’m not going to watch any more movies if you keep getting dumb ideas from them.” You ignore the affronted sound Tomura makes. “Life isn’t like movies. I like to be alone when I’m sleeping.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Do you sleep?” You should have asked Aizawa about things like that.

“I don’t sleep. Sleeping is for humans,” Tomura says. You raise your eyebrows and he scowls. “It sounds nice when you sleep. I can’t hear it if I’m not in your room.”

“What sounds nice?” You’re not a sleep-talker, and nobody’s ever told you that you snore. “What kind of noises am I making? Are they weird?”

“I don’t know,” Tomura snaps. “I don’t know what noises humans are supposed to make when they’re sleeping. They don’t sound weird to me. They’re just – nice.”

You decide to set up your phone to record tonight, just to figure out what kind of sounds you’re making. And then you’ll buy a white-noise machine so this doesn’t happen again. This isn’t working. Maybe you need to try something else. “I’m not fun to hang out with when I’m sleeping,” you say. “Why don’t we hang out more when I’m awake and I can talk to you?”

His red eyes light up. Part of you wants to call his excitement childish, but you’ve felt that way as an adult. Aizawa says that ghosts materialize or embody or whatever you’re supposed to call it at the equivalent human age. Tomura’s an adult by ghost standards. You have to interact with him like one. “Well?”

“I need more life,” Tomura says. “I killed all your mushrooms in the front yard. Find me something else and I’ll – hang out with you. You are boring when you sleep.”

“I’ll find something,” you say. You can see that Tomura’s starting to fade, and you move to end the conversation before he can freak out again. “Thanks for letting Phantom out. I’ll see you soon.”

“Soon,” Tomura says. He doesn’t look happy, but he’s not angry. As long as he’s not throwing a fit, you’ll take it.

Once he’s faded completely, you take out your phone and text the newly formed group chat that has the numbers of every human in the neighborhood old enough to have a phone. Jin’s renamed it eight times already. Right now it’s “ghost friends anonymous”. You text it with a request: If you all catch bugs in your houses, bring them to my house. I need them.

So you can talk to him? Keigo texts back first. Wish I’d thought of that when it was me. No problem. Bug buffet coming right up.

Shinsou responds next. Can we leave them on your porch? Dad says not to go up there.

You’ve got my permission, you say, even though you and everybody else knows it’s not your permission that counts. And his, once I tell him what they’re for.

The cold spot settles around your shoulders and you startled badly. You’ve walked through Tomura by accident before, and he must not have liked it, either, because he stays out of your way when you’re on the move. But he’s here now, not sinking through you but wrapped around you. “Don’t,” you say aloud. “I’ll get a chill.”

Tomura stays there a moment longer, probably just to prove he can. Then he slips away, leaving you with the worst case of goosebumps you’ve ever had and a feeling you don’t like in the pit of your stomach. You’ve got a ghost in your house – fine. It’s not being a ghost that makes him an asshole.

Tomura’s an asshole, but he must want to hang out with you more than he wants to spy on you, because the bathroom’s empty except for you when you shower before bed. And for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep in an empty room.

Your bug idea works out pretty well. Every day you find at least five or six jars on your porch with holes drilled into the lids and spiders or ants or wasps rattling around inside, trying to escape. Two jars of bugs buys Tomura five minutes of complete materialization, but he’s starting to get smart about things, only materializing what he needs for a given interaction. A pair of hands to throw the ball for Phantom. His head and shoulders when he’s talking to you. His whole body, barely visible, when the neighbors come over to the house to drop off the day’s catch.

The first ones to come by are Jin and Himiko, and Himiko shrieks in excitement when she sees Tomura’s shadow on the front porch. “It’s you!” she squeals. “You’re so cute!”

“I’m not cute,” Tomura says, disgusted. Then he looks at you. “What’s cute?”

“Not you,” you say, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Even though he can’t breathe. It’s weird-looking for sure. “Jin, Himiko, this is Tomura. He’s, uh –”

“The boss!” Jin flashes a double thumbs-up. “The king of the neighborhood! Frankly, my dude, you terrify me.”

Jin’s mood switches stopped being weird to you a long time ago, but Tomura’s not used to him yet. “What’s wrong with it?” he mutters.

“Nothing’s wrong with him! Don’t make fun of my humans,” Himiko says. She smiles with her sharp teeth and ghost-blinks a few times. “I don’t make fun of your human. Even though she wears the same shirt three times a week.”

“It’s my favorite shirt,” you protest. “It’s comfy. And I wash it in between.”

“My human wears what it wants to wear,” Tomura says. You don’t have the heart to correct him on the pronouns.

And you don’t have to – somebody else does it for you, when Shinsou stops by with a bug delivery two afternoons later. He’s not alone, but it’s not Aizawa with him. It’s a blond man with a tiny mustache and bright green eyes, and he’s standing as far away from Shinsou as humanly possible without letting go of Shinsou’s hand. “I admire the ingenuity, but this is gross,” he says, projecting his voice ridiculously loud with seemingly no effort. Then he looks up at you and smiles. “Hey there. Shou’s told me all about you. The name’s Hizashi.”

“Aizawa told me about you, too.” You’ve met almost all the ghosts in the neighborhood already, but this is your first time seeing Hizashi, and something about him makes you nervous. Maybe it’s just what you know about his backstory, or maybe you’re worried he’s going to come up here and give Tomura ideas about things he can do with his human. “Tomura, this is Hizashi. He lives up the street.”

“I know who he is,” Tomura says. He’s more visible now than he was a second ago. “Back off. You’re scaring it.”

“It?” Hizashi repeats. “Most humans don’t go by ‘it’, friend. That’s a she. Your human’s a woman.”

“Huh?” Tomura looks at you, looks you up and down in a way that makes you really uncomfortable. “How can you tell?”

“You could ask,” Hizashi says, unruffled. He turns his attention to Shinsou. “You’re sure you have to go up there? Spooky McScarface doesn’t look too friendly.”

“I don’t touch other people’s humans,” Tomura says. He studies Shinsou as Shinsou comes up to the porch and sets his jar down on the first step. “Which kind are you?”

“I’m a guy,” Shinsou says. Tomura keeps staring at him. “The opposite of a girl. Not a girl. Most humans are guys or girls. Men or women. I’m a guy. Your human’s a girl.”

“Whatever,” Tomura says. Shinsou sets down the bugs and backs away toward the front gate. You’d elbow Tomura if he was embodied. When you elbow him anyway, your elbow goes numb from the cold. “I’m supposed to say thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Hizashi says. He yanks Shinsou back through the gate and hurries him up the street. “We’ll be back! Enjoy your worms.”

They’ve given you a lot of worms. “This is great,” you say. “Maybe we can get through a whole movie on these. What do you think?”

You glance at Tomura and find him mostly dematerialized, lost in thought. “You’re a girl,” he says. You nod. “What am I?”

“Whatever you want to be, I guess,” you say. “You look like a guy, though. Your voice sounds like a guy’s voice, and you don’t have – um –”

You gesture at your breasts, which is a mistake. Now he’s looking at them. “Would you rather be a girl?”

“No,” Tomura says decisively. “I don’t like girls that much.”

Tomura’s understanding of gender probably still has a couple of big holes in it, but you decide to steer off the topic for now and count yourself lucky that it wasn’t worse. It’s not until you’re trying to fall asleep in your still-empty room that you realize what Tomura actually said – that he doesn’t like girls enough to want to be one, not that he doesn’t like girls at all. You thought you were off the hook. It turns out your ghost is straight.

You text Aizawa in a fit of pique. Your husband taught my ghost how to like girls.

Your ghost already liked girls. Now he has words to explain it. Aizawa’s typing bubble appears, then vanishes. Trust me, it helps.

You’re not all that sure that it does, but after a week or so of normal behavior from Tomura, you decide that it’s probably not a disaster. Whatever Hizashi told him, it’s not anywhere as bad as what Tomura’s getting out of the movies he watches with you.

You’ve been trying to be careful about what you show him, but you learn pretty quickly that he can get something weird out of whatever he watches. Tomura is shockingly observant, picking up on stuff that even you don’t notice, but he almost invariably draws the wrong conclusions about whatever he’s caught on to. That’s fine when you’re watching sci-fi. Not fine when you’re watching a romcom.

“No,” you say to Tomura for the fifth time. You feel like you’re talking to Phantom. “That’s not good. He shouldn’t be doing that.”

“Why not? He wants to protect her and she’s being stupid.”

You agree she’s being stupid, but – “He’s scaring her,” you say. Tomura blinks. He doesn’t blink like the embodied ghosts do. He blinks like a human does. “It’s scary for someone to grab you, or to block you in a corner and not let you leave. People who care about you don’t scare you.”

Tomura’s quiet for a little bit. You’re just picking up the remote to unpause the movie when he speaks again. “Do I scare you?”

“Right now? No.”

“So you’ve been scared of me before,” Tomura says. Sometimes you can get away with lying to him, but not right now. You keep quiet, and he takes it how you meant it. And he’s pissed. “Why would you be scared of me? I didn’t do anything to you. I helped you –”

“Humans are scared of things we don’t understand,” you say. Tomura studies you, scratching the side of his neck. He’s not materialized enough for it to show, which is good. You hate seeing the scrapes appear. “It’s normal.”

“The others say their humans weren’t ever scared of them.”

“Their humans were kids,” you say. “I’m not.”

You haven’t run your theory by Aizawa yet, but you’re still pretty sure you’re right. Jin, Shinsou, and Spinner were all kids when they met their ghosts, and their ghosts were there for them when nobody else was. You’ve heard the stories of how they met in bits and pieces, but you know Himiko protected Jin and Jin’s siblings from their abusive dad – and killed him to embody herself when he took it too far. Eri told you what she did to the foster sibling who hurt Shinsou. Spinner hasn’t told you how he met his ghost yet, but you feel like it’s probably something similar. They were all kids, and their ghosts were their best friends before they became human. They didn’t think about it any more than that.

You and Aizawa were older. You can’t speak to whatever brought Aizawa to Hizashi’s attention, but you went out of your way to make sure your house wasn’t haunted and wound up with a seriously haunted house anyway. When Tomura killed the coyote to protect you and Phantom, you were grateful, and you said so – but your next thought was about how easily that same violence could be turned against you. You’re an adult. You don’t trust easily. Of course you’re wary of the insanely powerful ghost in your house. Who wouldn’t be?

Tomura’s still studying you. “How do I make you – not?”

“You can’t make me do anything,” you say. Tomura rolls his eyes. “Don’t do that. You asked.”

“And you didn’t answer. How do I make you stop being scared of me?”

“You can’t,” you say, which is probably the stupidest answer you’ve given to any question ever, even if it’s true. “Why do you want me not to be scared of you? You’re supposed to be haunting me. Don’t you want to act like a ghost?”

Tomura vanishes, which is about as close to a fuck-you as it gets. You resign yourself to a rough night and settle in for the rest of the movie. In retrospect, daring your ghost to actually haunt you was a really bad idea.

You haven’t shown Tomura any horror movies, but you watched a few before you knew he was watching them with you, and over the next few hours, he pulls every trick he must have seen in them. The lights flicker. The house fills itself with weird sounds, creaks and screeches and moans, and the hallways warp before your eyes as you try to walk through them. If you had to guess, you’d say Tomura wants you to beg him to stop, but you’re not going to do that. You brush your teeth, ignoring the way the water from the faucet runs read and the creepy shadow behind the shower door. You check your closet, ignoring the pair of feet very obviously sticking out below the racks of clothes, and pick up your feet to avoid the hands that grasp at your ankles as you try to get into bed. Then your bed starts to rattle, like he’s grabbed it by the post and started shaking it around.

And that, of all things, is what makes you lose patience. “You suck at haunting things.”

Tomura’s voice issues from beneath the bed. “Maybe you just suck at being haunted.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” You suck at all of this, and all the time you spend trying to solve your ghost problem has been sapping your focus at work. Mr. Yagi’s nice about it, but he can’t be nice forever. “I didn’t ask for this. You did.”

Your bed rattles again, harder than before, then goes still. “No, I didn’t.”

“Don’t lie. I know how this works. A ghost as strong as you –”

“I wasn’t always strong.” A scratching sound emanates from beneath the bed. Not only is Tomura still down there, he’s materialized fully enough that you can hear him scratching his neck. Why would he waste that kind of energy? “I didn’t want to come here. Master made me. I couldn’t get back.”

Master – his conjurer. It must be. But Aizawa says that ghosts are strong or weak, that their powers don’t grow or increase, and all the former ghosts agree. If Tomura started out weak enough to be summoned unwillingly, how did he get strong enough to hide an entire neighborhood of former ghosts? “I don’t understand.”

“So I bet you’re extra scared now.”

Tomura’s voice is bitter, mocking. But you can still hear the scratching, and before you can think better of it, you sit up and slide off your bed. When you’re lying flat on the floor, you can see into the darkness beneath the bed and make out Tomura’s red eyes, his pale skin, the scraped-raw spots on the side of his neck. “Hey, don’t do that,” you say quietly, and he scoffs. “It looks like it hurts.”

“Things don’t hurt. There’s feelings or not-feelings. I don’t care either way.”

“If you don’t care either way, then stop,” you say. Tomura scoffs again. “I’ll prove it’s different. Hold your hand out.”

He holds out the hand he’s not scratching with, like an asshole, but maybe you can use that. If he’s still scratching, the contrast will be obvious. You reach for Tomura’s hand with both of yours and hold it still. Part of you is expecting your hands to sink through and meet in the middle, but Tomura’s hand is real enough to touch. His skin is rough and ice-cold.

Tomura stops scratching the instant your hands enclose his. You’re tempted to call attention to it and gloat over being right, but it feels like it would be the wrong thing to do. It’s banter, and this doesn’t feel like banter. It feels like something else. You don’t think too hard about what that something is.

Tomura’s not thinking about it, either, but that’s because Tomura’s an asshole. “It only feels different because your hands aren’t moving.”

“You want me to move my hands? Fine.” You turn Tomura’s hand over and run the pads of your fingers lightly over his palm, noting as you do that his palm is completely unlined. He doesn’t have fingerprints, either. You notice that when you trace the length of one of his fingers, and then the next, and the next after that. But if you ignore that, and you ignore the cold, Tomura’s hand is just a hand. You match your palm to his, then run your fingers down the length of his all at once. It’s just a hand. It could be anyone’s.

Tomura yanks his hand free of yours and vanishes for the second time tonight, leaving you sprawled out on the floor of your room, staring into the now-empty space under your bed. It occurs to you to be embarrassed, but this isn’t even close to the dumbest thing you’ve done because of the ghost in your house. You lay there for a second, wondering how long it’ll take for Tomura to get whatever stupid thing he’s doing out of his system, and then climb back up into bed.

Tomura’s sitting there, cross-legged, both hands up over his face. “What was that?” he asks. Usually when he asks you questions like that, it’s a demand, but it sounds different this time. “Why did you do that to me?”

“I was proving a point.” Were you, though? Suddenly you aren’t sure. “Get off my bed.”

“Never do that again,” Tomura says. His shoulders are rising and falling fast, like he’s breathing hard. “Never! I don’t want to feel like this!”

“Like what?” you ask, but now he’s fading – not dematerializing, fading. He’s run out of energy, and he won’t be back tonight, unless he changes his mind and decides you and Phantom are fair game as far as living batteries go. “Fine. You started this. Don’t play your stupid games with me anymore.

The lights flicker on, then off, then on again. You roll over, press your face into your pillow, and fall asleep.

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