#but when the writer doesn’t address them

[cleo-fox]

Movie Night

Summary: You’re not really sure why Loki shows up for your movie nights. He never seems to like the movies, even when he picks them, and every movie you watch together is accompanied by a litany of dry complaints and general sarcasm from him. This is partly why it always ends up being just the two of you—the others don’t have the patience to put up with it. You generally think it’s funny, so you’ve never rescinded his invitation.

That and…you kind of have a thing for him.

Pairing: Loki/Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, couch sex, quiet sex, praise kink, friends to lovers, making out, vaginal fingering, semi-public sex, praise kink.

A/N: I’m working on cross posting all my stuff from AO3. I wrote this a little while ago in an effort to address some writer’s block (it didn’t work, but I had fun writing it). This is also on AO3.

You’re not really sure why Loki shows up for your movie nights. He never seems to like the movies, even when he picks them, and every movie you watch together is accompanied by a litany of dry complaints and general sarcasm from him. This is partly why it always ends up being just the two of you—the others don’t have the patience to put up with it. You generally think it’s funny, so you’ve never rescinded his invitation.

That and you’ve got a little bit of a thing for him. You think he might have some interest in you, but you’re not certain enough to make the first move.

You look forward to your movie nights, but when this particular Friday night rolls around, you’re absolutely dragging by the time the clock strikes eight, thanks to a bad night of sleep the previous evening. Before the movie even starts, you’re wrapping yourself in the soft throw from your room and curling up, pillowing your head on the arm of the couch.

“I didn’t realize I would have such riveting company this evening,” says Loki dryly.

You roll your eyes and stretch obnoxiously, purposely shoving your feet into his lap. “I was up ‘til three this morning, give me a break.”

“Surely you need your full wits about you to appreciate the nuance of this fine cinema.”

He’s being sarcastic; you decide to ignore it because that will annoy him the most. You stifle a yawn and give him your most beatific smile before hunkering back down under your blanket. Loki grumbles something indeterminate, but he doesn’t shove your feet off his lap—in fact, he drapes his arm over your ankles like it’s not a big deal at all.

This simple gesture warms you from the inside out and sends a flurry of butterflies fluttering through your stomach. You are pretty sure nothing is going to come of it—stuff like this has been going on for months and nothing has happened—but it’s still nice. You have no idea what it means, but it’s nice.

You’re not entirely surprised that you fall asleep during the movie—you are tired and while you don’t necessarily want to admit that any of Loki’s cinematic complaints have merit, the movie really wasn’t very good. Between that and your cozy blanket, it’s a recipe for an unintentional nap.

It’s dark when you wake up. You don’t really remember falling asleep, though you think it must have been about halfway through the film, based on the last hazy bit of dialogue you can recall.

You certainly don’t remember Loki sliding over on the couch to join you. But here he is, spooned up against your back, arms snaking around your waist, and the blanket tucked neatly over the two of you.

It’s dark and quiet and his breath is warm and even against the back of your neck. You’re reasonably certain that he’s asleep, though you wouldn’t necessarily bet money on it.

You consider your options. You probably should get up before someone wanders in and finds you like this, but…you don’t want to. You are wildly attracted to Loki—there’s no denying that—and the feeling of his strong arms wrapped snugly around your waist and the warmth of his broad chest pressing against your back is far too intoxicating to give up, even though you’re currently tangled up with him in a common area.

Still…you’re not entirely sure what to do about this. At some point, you’ll both need to go to your respective beds. Pretending to be asleep when he wakes is almost certainly not an option—he’ll somehow know that you’re faking and he’ll absolutely call you out on it, which will make the whole thing worse. Going back to sleep is tempting, but it presents its own set of risks.

But then…why did he curl up with you like this? Surely he wouldn’t have done this if he didn’t find you appealing in some way. Maybe you don’t actually need an exit strategy? Maybe you can just enjoy it. You’re a bit too comfortable, sleepy, and distracted to think properly, anyway. You allow yourself to relax further into his embrace.

And then you feel his cock twitch against your ass.

It’s almost impressive how quickly your body shifts from content and pleasantly sleepy to wide awake and intensely aroused. Somewhere in the back of your mind, there’s a calm and rational voice saying you’re being ridiculous, but this is easily drowned out by the growing ache between your thighs.

You press your thighs together and try to take slow and even breaths, but it doesn’t really help. If you weren’t sure what to do before, now you’re at a complete loss. The safe assumption would be to chalk it up to biology and timing and move on, but it’s really difficult to do that when you’ve been locked in this flirty back and forth with him for months and you want him as much as you do.

You feel him twitch again and you bite your lip as the ache between your thighs pulses in a kind of answer, the slickness growing. Your breath is quiet, but shallow, your heart thrumming in your throat.

You’re trying to keep perfectly still, but between your aching core and the slight kink in your hip from the way you’re positioned on the couch, doing so is easier said than done. You hold out for as long as you can before you give in and shift your hips slightly, trying to be as subtle as possible.

He stirs in his sleep and pulls you closer, his cock pressing hard against your ass. You’re not sure if he’s awake—his breath is still coming slow and even against the back of your neck—but you can’t quite suppress the way your own breath stutters in your throat when you feel him against you. 

God, you want him.

He flexes his fingers where they are splayed against your stomach. You feel the tip of his nose brush against the curve of your neck.

“Will you admit now that you want me?” he says. His voice is low and intimate and calls to mind dark silk and smoke.

“I didn’t know that you wanted me to,” you say, which is true—whatever’s been brewing between you has been subtle, more sidelong glances than lustful stares; you’ve never spoken about it.

“Don’t play coy with me, pet,” he says, his voice a soft growl against your neck. “I have enjoyed the chase, but I’ve no more patience for games.”

The slickness between your thighs increases at the slight roughness in his voice. His lips graze the shell of your ear and you let out a sharp breath.

“Admit it.” He catches your earlobe between his teeth and gently sucks it into his mouth.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your back arching slightly against him.

“In due time,” he says, his hips pressing back against you. “Answer me first.”

You roll over so that you’re facing him. The sharp, angular planes of his face are flattered by the faint, moody blue light from the sleeping city outside. He stares openly, brazenly, at your lips, his hand resting on your waist.

“What happens if I do?” you ask.

He gives you a wolfish smile and his hand strokes down your waist to your thigh. He pulls your leg up and over his hip, drawing you toward him so that his cock presses against your clothed heat. You have to bite your lip to hold back a moan, but you’re pretty sure he catches the slight hitch in your breath.

“You’re a clever girl,” he says, “I’m sure you can work it out.”

When you’ve thought about this moment before—and you’ve admittedly thought about it a lot—you’ve always imagined yourself smirking right back at him, meeting his clever quips with barbs of your own until he’s forced to admit how much he wants you. But you’re not quite prepared for the way that your brain abruptly short circuits at the feeling of his thick, hard cock pressing against your clit through the thin fabric of your leggings or how his gaze is a thousand times hungrier in the dark than it was in your imagination. It feels thrilling and sexy being here with him like this, tangled up in the dead of night in the middle of the common area. Clever quips and keeping him hanging seem like an impossibility several times over.

He seems to sense that your resolve is faltering because his hand slides to your lower back and he rocks his hips against you ever so slightly, giving you just a taste of that beautiful friction.

“Admit it.” It’s not a question this time and a pleasant shiver runs up your spine.

You lick your lips. “I—I want you.”

His smile is like sin. “Good girl.”

You’re practically trembling with want when he kisses you, so slow and sensual that it makes you whimper when his tongue strokes past your lips and into your mouth.

He moves in a languid, almost lazy way that makes you dizzy with need. He’s completely unhurried, but there’s a tension in his body that tells you he’s barely holding back, that he wants you a lot more than what he’s saying.

You almost don’t notice his hand sliding from your back to your hip and then ghosting along your stomach until he slips it under the band of your leggings.

“How much do you want me?” he asks as his fingers trail lightly along the fabric of your underwear.

“You can’t tell?” you ask, trying and mostly failing to keep your voice level.

“I like to be certain,” he says.

“You just like hearing me say it,” you say.

His eyes glitter as his hand slips under the elastic of your underwear and slowly creeps downward. “And why shouldn’t I like hearing you tell me how much you want me?”

“I—” His hand is so close to where you need him. He runs one finger right along the edge of your slit and your breath catches. “I—I don’t…”

He raises an eyebrow expectantly. “You don't…?”

“I…” Your mind is blissfully blank and every fiber of your being is focused on his hand and your aching clit. “I—I don’t…remember the question.”

You think you must have surprised him a little because he laughs in a way that makes his eyes light up, even in the moody blue half dark of the room. But after a brief moment he refocuses and his fingers slowly part your dripping folds and finally stroke your throbbing clit.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe, a moan catching in your throat.

“As I thought,” he tuts. “You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” You nod and he makes a scolding sound. “Say it. Tell me what you need.”

You can feel your cheeks heat, which is ridiculous given that he’s got his hand down your pants. You lick your lips. “I need to come.”

“And what do you want me to do about that?” His fingers circle your clit lightly and retreat.

You shiver, your hips rolling forward, searching out his fingers. “Touch me.”

“How?”

You bite back a whimper as his fingers trace a circuit around your clit, avoiding your obvious need. “Please, Loki.”

“I need you to be more specific, darling,” he purrs. Your hips roll forward and he retreats again.

“You know what I want,” you say.

His smile is sharp. “Have we not established that I like hearing you say such things?” His fingers bypass your clit again. “Tell me how you want me to touch you. Tell me what you want.”

Your pride—or what remains of it—has slowly eroded to nothing. You lick your lips. You need him.

“I—I need you to touch me,” you say again. “I want you to rub my clit until I come on your fingers.”

His smile is vulpine but his fingers finally roll over your clit, lightly circling it. You breathe out, your hips rocking with his hand.

“Absolutely drenched,” he murmurs. “You’re a proper mess, my love.”

“It’s because you’re such a fucking tease,” you say, your hands sliding up to grip his shoulders.

His eyebrows rise. “I’m a tease? Am I not giving you everything that you asked for?”

“After amping me up,” you retort.

“And I’m taking care of that now, aren’t I? I’m touching you just like you begged me to.” He changes the movement of his hand slightly, fingers rolling across the most sensitive part of your clit. You suck in a deep breath and his eyes darken as he readjusts his hand to hit that spot again. “And you obviously like it. I daresay you need it.”

Your head tips back as your hips rock with his hand. You can feel your orgasm beginning to build and for the first time, it occurs to you that you are doing this in the middle of a common area. Reluctant as you are to stop, you can’t help but think it might be best to relocate.

“Should—fuck, yes, just like that—should we go back to your room? Or mine?” you manage to gasp.

“I don’t see why that’s necessary.”

“S-someone might hear,” you gasp as his fingers massage your slick and swollen clit.

The white of his teeth flashes in the dark as he continues to touch you. “Then I suggest you keep quiet,” he says, his voice rough.

You manage to raise an eyebrow. “You don’t want to hear me?”

Another sharp smile. “Later.” His eyes darken. “You’ve kept me from my prize long enough. I rather think you’ve earned this little game.”

“I thought you had no more patience for games,” you manage to say.

He smiles and it occurs to you that he likes it when you talk back, perhaps just as much as you enjoy him putting you in your place. “Oh, I think I rather like this game,” he says, his fingers suddenly slowing, but still exerting a firm pressure on your clit. “How hard will you come for me? How quiet can you be?” His eyes darken again. “Or perhaps you don’t want to be quiet. Perhaps you want to be heard. Perhaps you want the others to know exactly what I’m doing to you.”

You shudder despite yourself.

“Wicked girl,” he murmurs appreciatively. “Letting me touch you out here in the open like this. Anyone could walk in here and see.”

“You’d really let that happen?” you ask. “I didn’t take you for the type who likes to share.”

The hunger in his eyes increases tenfold and you know this was the right thing to say. “Oh, I don’t share, darling. Especially not you.” He increases the speed of his fingers ever so slightly and your breath catches, the tension in your hips building. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? How many times I’ve thought about ravishing you until you forget every name but mine? How many times I’ve imagined you wet and begging for my cock?” His voice drops to a low rasp. “I have gone to bed hard and aching for you more nights than I can count.”

His words and his fingers are a wonderful and wicked combination. You reach for him, tangling your fingers in his ink dark hair and pulling him in to kiss you. He does, but with such a lazy restraint that you can’t help but whimper a little, trying to press yourself closer as your hips rock with his hand. You’re reaching the place in the lead up to your orgasm where you’re so desperate to come that you feel like you’d do almost anything. It’s a heady place, with an edge of danger and you think that Loki must have an inkling of it based on the way his eyes darken.

“Did you think of me like this? Did you touch yourself, imagining the feeling of my hands on your body?”

“I—”

He must catch the slight hesitation in your eyes because that firm authority returns to his voice. “Tell me.”

Panting, you nod and earn another one of those dark and hungry smiles.

“How many times did you make yourself come while thinking of me?”

You don’t know the answer to that. Partly because it was like…several times a week. For the last six months. At least.

“A lot,” you finally manage.

His smile is devilish as he kisses you. “You’re going to come at least twice as hard for me tonight.”

The muscles of your cunt clench tightly around nothing. You need him so badly. Have you ever needed anyone like this? You’re fairly sure you haven’t. You’re getting close, your hips rolling with the stroke of his hand.

“Tell me how much you need it,” he purrs. “Tell me how you need to fall apart on my fingers.”

“Loki—”

“Tell me.”

“Please—I’m so close—”

“Tell me and I’ll let you come. Be a good girl for me, darling, and I’ll give you everything you need.”

You gasp. “Fuck, Loki, I—fuck, I need to come—I need you—”

You’re not sure how he manages it—perhaps there’s some magic involved, perhaps it’s luck or skill—but you start to come the moment the words leave your lips. The edges of your vision blur slightly as your orgasm overtakes you, roaring up from your hips and bursting like fireworks in the night sky. You gasp, trying to hold in a moan, but a slight whimper escapes you before Loki’s mouth covers your own, claiming you in a hungry kiss. His hand is still moving, fingers still circling your clit.

“Oh, yes,” he breathes against your lips. “Oh that’s lovely.”

It seems to last a long time, drawing out in long waves that make your toes curl. He kisses you throughout, until you very nearly lose track of where you end and he begins. All the while, his fingers keep rubbing your clit, extending your pleasure and making you shudder.

You can feel his cock still pressing against your hip and you want nothing more than to take him in your hands and make him feel just as good as he made you feel.

“I want to touch you,” you say and you’re treated to another one of those hungry smiles before he starts undoing the fastenings of his trousers. His cock finally springs free and you suck in a deep breath. He’s big—easily the biggest you’ve ever had—and you can’t help the ache that courses through you.

It’s immensely rewarding hearing his breath hitch when you take him in your hand. You’re surprised by how warm he is—you’d expect a Frost Giant to run a little cooler, but he’s hot and throbbing. You stroke him slowly from base to tip, squeezing his shaft ever so slightly.

His head tips back and he lets out a very quiet groan before reaching to push your hand away. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I’m sorry—” you start to say.

“I need you now,” he says, tugging your leggings and underwear down and off, his voice conveying both authority and desperation in a way that makes you ache.

He pulls you to him, drawing your leg up over his hip to spread you open. He rubs the tip of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your slickness and taking every opportunity to tease your clit.

He finally settles himself at your entrance and slowly begins easing into you.

He kisses you and it’s a good thing he does because you’re so slick and wound up that the dull, blunt stretch of his cock sliding inside of you unexpectedly tips you right back over the edge, pulling a soft moan from your lips as you come on his cock. You almost have a mind to be embarrassed—you’ve hardly begun and you’re already coming undone—but the feral glint in Loki’s eyes is enough to make you forget all about it.

“Like I said: you’re absolutely desperate for it, ” he says, pressing even deeper inside of you. “And you’re taking me so well.” He withdraws slightly and pushes forward again and you bury your face in his neck to hide your moan.

His fingers slide between your legs to find your clit. “I want to feel you come again,” he says, gently beginning to stroke you as he thrusts again. “You feel exquisite.”

It doesn’t take very long for him to build you back up—the steady thrust of his cock stroking your slick walls just right and his fingers expertly circling your clit is more than enough to take you there. It’s all so good and the way he’s kissing you is making you dizzy in the best way.

“I can feel you, darling,” he purrs in your ear. “Let go. Come on my cock like a good girl.”

With a few more thrusts, you do. You bury your face in his shoulder, trying to muffle your moans as much as possible.

“That’s it, yes,” he growls as he fucks you through the aftershocks. His brow is furrowed and his focus is intent and you can tell he’s getting close.

“Loki,” you breathe.

Even though he’s in the process of losing his composure, he still manages a wicked grin. “One more for me, love,” he rasps.

You’re not sure if you can manage another, to be quite frank. “Loki, I—”

“One more,” he says again, his eyes flashing. “One more and I’ll fill your tight, perfect cunt with my seed. One more and I’ll make you mine.”

His words send something electric and primal racing up your spine and quite suddenly, you find yourself hurtling toward the release you didn’t think you had in you. A choked whimper catches in your throat and you are trembling in his arms and with one last shudder, you come hard.

“Nearly there.” His words are punctuated by gasps, his hips never faltering in their rhythm.

His hips snap hard against you and he throws his head back, his face rapt in ecstasy, lost to a pure pleasure as he comes. He’s staggeringly beautiful in this moment and you’re filled with a feral kind of possessiveness—he is yours and you don’t want to share this moment or this feeling or this man with anyone else. It’s a startling thought—one you know that you know you’ll need to interrogate at some point—but you decide that it can wait until later. He starts kissing you and it nearly takes your breath away—it’s soft and tender and still so decadent it feels like it should be forbidden.

You want to stay in this moment with him, your legs wrapped around his waist, his cock still pressed inside of you, but you know it can’t last. Something in your chest aches as he pulls away from you, vanishes the mess and tucks himself back into his trousers. He slowly stands up and you suddenly feel so much colder than you were before.

But before you can start to wallow in that misery, he’s bending down and scooping you up into his arms, throw blanket and all.

Before you can even think to ask where he’s taking you, you’re in his rooms and he’s placing you gently on the bed.

“Oh, so now you want privacy,” you say as you watch him quickly strip off his clothes, your gaze lingering on every emerging detail like you’re a woman starved.

He smirks and joins you in bed, covering your body with his and kissing you deeply as he pulls off the rest of your clothes. The feeling of his bare skin on yours is so dizzying that it takes you a moment to realize that he’s hard again.

“Already?” you say with a disbelieving laugh.

His smile is sin dripped in syrup. “I am a god, pretty girl.”

The ache between your legs returns and he kisses you like he knows it.

“And this time,” he says, his eyes glittering with want, “I want to hear you scream for me.”

You are more than happy to oblige.

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x yn #loki x you smut

[breeyn]

An essay rebutting the “bad writing” claims of s2 ofmd. Spoilers herein.

I’ll preface this with saying you’re obviously allowed to like and dislike whatever you want. I am in no way opposing that. And your reasons are your reasons. Have at. (Also - this is a collection of observations from the past few days, I’m not calling anyone out)

I AM going to rebut the idea that season two was poorly written and lost the spirit of what the show is about.

My favourite movie of all time is Empire Strikes Back. It’s been my favourite movie since I was four. I’m pretty sure it’s a fave of David Jenkins, too. He and Taika have made absolutely no attempt to hide their love of all things 80’s - Prince, the Princess Bride, Kate Bush, Star Wars, etc.

I have ancient video tapes (that I can’t play because who has a vcr) where Lucas is interviewed by Leonard Maltin? Malkin? I dunno. Who cares. Maltin asks him about the Star Wars (original trilogy) story arc. Lucas says “in act I, you introduce all the characters. In act II, you put them in a situation they can’t get out of, and in act III, they get out of it.”

That’s how it works. This is how stories and literary structures work.

Of course you’re not satisfied with season two. You’re not supposed to be.

The arguments I have read on why s2 loses the spirit of s1 is because no one heals. No one learns anything. No one moves forward properly. The person who makes the biggest move towards healing dies. The two main characters end the show doing the exact fucking thing they had promised themselves and each other they wouldn’t do. Our romantic lead still doesn’t understand his value or make any headway on addressing his tragic flaw. It makes no goddamn sense.

My gremlins in weird: it’s not supposed to. In Act 2, EVERYONE LOSES. This is how it goes.

I’ve read a lot of people saying “but this felt like a series finale, not a season finale.” We all know that outside politics play a part here, the strikes make everything precarious. I remember the last writers strike. It destroyed tv for fifteen years. Anyone remember Pushing Daisies? Some of y’all have never had your fave show cancelled with zero resolution for the characters and it shows.

Daddy J did us a kindness. He softened the blow of a tough season. After the brutal cliffhanger of s1, he gave us a little softness and hope. All those things you’re mad aren’t resolved? It’s because THE STORY ISN’T OVER.

No one on earth thinks “stuff all your trauma into a box and ignore it” is good advice. A way to actually live. This show did not have enough screen time to throw out dialogue for no reason. There was foreshadowing in s1 for s2, and there is foreshadowing for s3 in s2. This is a well-crafted story by very smart people who care very much for these characters. There is zero chance Frenchie explained the box in his head for no reason. The reason people have not resolved their trauma and growth is because they haven’t done it *yet*.

And friends - it’s not thinly veiled. They straight up fucking tell us what they’re doing.

Luke Skywalker spends the first two movies fucking up and desperately trying to prove himself and just generally being an idiot. Sound familiar? He ignores the lessons he is supposed to be learning to go off and do what he feels like doing, and loses fucking badly. At the end of Empire, Han is gone, Luke and Leia wave goodbye to the Falcon that has Lando and Chewy - the rest of their crew - aboard. Everyone has lost everything they care about. Vader is undefeated. Yoda is pissed. Nothing is resolved.

You see where I’m going?

If you think I’m stretching this too far, welp, when Ed tells Stede he loves him - the climax of the finale - Stede quotes Han fucking Solo. Like - *it’s right there*. The story structure. The reason everything is unresolved.

So yeah. They wave goodbye to their ship because they have wounds to heal (like Luke’s hand). The people aboard the ship have things to find. Ed and Stede have *not* learned their lesson about whims and how not to be like Anne and Mary. It’s not stupid that they’re doing the same thing, and it’s not pointless that we were shown Anne and Mary. It’s all relevant.

The resolution comes in Act 3. None of these people are done. The story is far, far from over. And just in case the studios want to be dicks about it, David Jenkins was lovely enough to not repeat my enduring heartbreak over Pushing Daisies.

Thank you, @davidjenks 🖤

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd spoilers

[lolomidi]

The Price of Entertainment: An Episode-By-Episode Analysis of Alastor's Facade

I don’t think any character in Hazbin Hotel has been discussed as much as Alastor, and it’s a testament to how much the writers put in his character that the mystery of his intentions, past, and contract have been so debated on.

There are some takes I vehemently disagree with, but something a lot of people seem to have settled on is that Alastor is, behind his massive ego and cool-headed persona, insecure about his place in Hell after his long “sabbatical.” I want to do an episode-by-episode analysis of Alastor’s behavior and how Season 1 shifts our view of him from an unquestionably powerful Overlord to something with more depth, and while I won’t be speculating on who owns his soul and how he’ll break that contract in those post, I will take a guess at the future of his character in a narrative sense. I will also implicitly be addressing my issues with some of the conclusions others have made, or at least playing devil's advocate.

NOTE: I want to clarify that none of this is meant to depict Alastor as some poor woobie. He’s still awful. He’s in Hell for several reasons and being a serial killer is only one of them. Rather, I want to analyze what is shown to us about him, and how those story beats can be used to determine where he’ll end up by the finale of the series.

ALSO NOTE: I haven’t followed all of VivziePop’s comments outside of the show about the characters, and it’s possible that certain details have been changed between the release of the pilot and the show, so take any mentions of what hasn’t been explicitly depicted within the show with a grain of salt.

___

Part 1: Recap Analysis

This section will consist of commentary regarding Alastor's appearance and behavior in the given episodes, with retrospection based on new information given in later episodes if needed.

“Overture”: Alastor is pretty one-to-one with his depiction in the pilot in the first episode. He’s snarky, open about his sadism, but helpful if begrudgingly so. Interestingly, he’s able to put together a well-edited, if tonally awful, commercial, and probably could have done better if he weren’t intentionally being an ass about it. From the finale we know that he and Vox likely used to have a more magnanimous relationship, and it’s likely that he picked up some tools of the digital trade in that time despite or before being turned off completely by it.

“Radio Killed the Video Star”: Vox effectively plays heel for Alastor this episode as we continue that first impression of the Radio Demon. We spend a good time showing off the former’s power and how far his roots have spread throughout Hell’s society, only for Alastor to effortlessly trounce him and steal from his audience, despite being gone for so long and his position in Hell less stable. This indicates that Alastor does still have pull, but at the same time that his position in the hierarchy of Hell is being contested due to the length of his absence. He deals with it easily here, but we’ll see in subsequent episodes that things aren’t as smooth as they first seem.

“Scrambled Eggs”: In terms of the eggs, there’s not much to talk about. He begrudgingly accepts Vaggie’s request to get rid of them “humanely,” but brings them back to the hotel after they prove to be useful spies.

More importantly, we get our first small hint that Alastor’s ego can be bruised when Carmilla doesn’t humor him during the meeting between Overlords. Now, I actually disagree with a lot of the takes on this episode in that I think it indicates that at least some of Alastor’s views and need to prove himself as a powerful Overlord are the result of self-delusion. Yes, he does need to reestablish himself as a person not to be messed with after being gone for so long, but I think it isn’t as bad as some are making it out to be, which makes his behavior in later episodes more strange and excessive if anything.

Carmilla, who mind you is a busy and stressed woman trying to hide the fact that she’s successfully murdered an angel, hits his ego by not caring where he’s been (something he wouldn’t have revealed in the first place), but she also welcomes him back, which is more than you could say to Velvette and by extension the Vees. And minutes before that, Zestial, who’s probably the highest on their totem pole, does go out of his way to meet with Alastor and inquire about where he’s been. Alastor himself gets over the slight pretty quickly and has no issue contributing to the meeting. Overall, he isn’t necessarily terrifying other overlords, but he still has an established place with them and they do seem to get along well enough. He’s “part of the group” unlike the Vees, who are treated more like upstart outsiders.

I also want to point out that despite Zestial likely outranking Alastor in power, they seem to be alright with each other. Alastor is cordial and does not demonstrate a desire to antagonize him like he does Lucifer in the next episode. Speaking of which…

“Dad Beat Dad”: This episode gives us a lot to chew on and is the first major indicator that Alastor’s issues go beyond wanting to be the center of the room. From the very moment Lucifer walks into the hotel*, his eye is twitching and he is visibly pissed. Lucifer undermining him (notably contrasting Zestial, who is polite despite his power) doesn’t help and makes Alastor let loose his first swear in the entire show. Being the petty bitch he is, Alastor, knowing he can’t intimidate Lucifer in any way, immediately goes for his weak point–Charlie–and plays up the role of a caretaker for her and the hotel. It’s a low blow, but it also feels like a defense–he’s signaling to Lucifer that this is his hotel, that things are taken care of already, and that they do not need his assistance, even though they ultimately do in order to get a meeting with Heaven.

But then things get more complicated with the appearance of Mimzy, who, to the surprise of several characters due to his solitary nature, was friends with Alastor all the way back when they were alive, and she carries a load of implications with her. She’s the only crack so far at what a “human” Alastor is like–apparently he’s a heavyweight drinker, a good dancer, and most notably, in Mimzy’s words, a sweet man who "becomes a kitten" when he's drunk. This is a huge departure from the unflappable, egotistical Radio Demon we’ve known up to now, and I think it’s a purposeful choice that we’re hearing this information but not shown it like his early days in Hell just prior. It’s simultaneously left to the imagination but difficult to do so because it contrasts so heavily with everything that has been shown to us beforehand. Another thing is that Mimzy is sure that Alastor will clean up her mess–and apparently this isn’t the first time he has, if Husk is anything to go by. So many people seem to miss this, but Alastor, who hates being tied down or disrespected, has been allowing Mimzy to leech off of him, presumably due to their past friendship making him turn a blind eye.

Alastor is on edge for this entire episode and is already unusually snappy when Husk addresses Mimzy, and pushing the button that was his contract is what sends him over the edge. His temper exploding is a direct result of his feeling that his control over both the hotel (via Lucifer) and his personal life (via Husk’s “doubt” that he can handle everything and that his reputation is what it used to be, plus the reminder of his deal) is being taken away from him. Alastor’s threat to Husk, which seems to not be his usual behavior if Husk’s willingness to show concern and talk back in the first place is anything to go by, is an attempt to remind both of them that he holds the cards, that he’s a powerful Overlord that is not to be trifled with, and he explicitly says as much when he goes out to deal with what Mimzy’s dragged in.

It’s only after he lets his anger out on the mobsters and “proves himself” that he visibly calms down and makes the logical decision to tell Mimzy to leave with a serious attitude, and also doesn’t antagonize anyone for the rest of the episode. It seems like despite his fury earlier, he was listening to Husk, who’s rightfully smug about it. He’s even present when Charlie declares her desire to protect her people, and his smile seems just a tad bit more genuine.

*Note: it’s not impossible that Alastor has some sort of personal grudge against Lucifer which caused his hate-on-first-sight, depending on the circumstances of his disappearance and contract (i.e. if it’s with Lilith).

“Hello Rosie!”: As opposed to Dad Beat Dad, Hello Rosie is arguably where we see Alastor at his most in-his-element. He gives off a lot of conflicting vibes at the beginning, from mocking Charlie’s distress to, in a shockingly honest moment, lecturing her about the importance of a smile to portray strength, a card we’d only been shown due to comments outside of the show. He smugly holds his knowledge over Charlie’s head but is visibly impatient to have her make a blank check of a deal with him, solid enough to benefit him but vague enough so that Charlie won’t feel immediately threatened. He’s clearly been waiting for an opportunity like this since the events of the pilot.

After that, he puts back on his gentleman’s demeanor and introduces Charlie to Rosie, and from here on he’s arguably at his most comfortable in the entire show. He’s relaxed around Rosie and is actually willing to ask for her help (something I can’t see him doing with any other character), casually complains about Susan, is encouraging to and praises Charlie even behind her back, and most notably, gives her his radio cane unprompted. More on that later. He also mentioned wanting to guide Charlie to Rosie specifically, implying that he was being genuine about wanting to act as a mentor to her, though his intentions are probably self-beneficial.

“The Show Must Go On”: The finale is arguably the most revealing episode on what Alastor’s inner world is like, as we see him unmasked several times. For one, his private admission to Niffty, the closest thing he has to a friend within the hotel, that he’s enjoyed watching the other residents connect to each other. This is in direct opposition to his initial (stated) reason for helping the hotel in that he wanted to watch them all fail, and yet he seems content with his initial assumptions being proven wrong. There’s no malice or sarcasm in this moment, he’s relaxed and talking to someone he relatively trusts.

And so he goes into the battle swinging and confident. Then, of course, Adam.

I want to bring up something before we keep going. Yes, fighting Adam without angelic weaponry was a needless risk. Yes, Alastor fell victim to the very sloppiness and arrogance he accused Adam of, and it’s thematically appropriate that he was the only one to lose his battle in that he was fighting for his own ego more than “love.” But also, people seem to forget that Alastor is the only demon in the entire show with a precedent for permakilling without an explicit reliance on angelic weaponry, as the Overlords he toppled in his original rampage seem to have never returned. He’s egotistical, but not stupid. He may have genuinely believed that he had the means to kill Adam himself but didn’t get the chance/couldn’t due to his contract or absence possibly weakening him. But that's speculation for another day.

So, he has to retreat before Adam double-taps his ass and is too injured to return until after the extermination. He makes a grand exit, but not before grabbing the broken pieces of his radio cane. The one he allowed Charlie to use just an episode prior, and presumably is a conduit for his powers, and he grabs it while a murderous angel is inches away from wiping him off the face of Hell.

His portion of “Finale” is the first time we see him singing alone and not playing off someone in a duet. It’s obvious that he’s trying to keep his composure, still speaking to himself in his artificial transatlantic accent (which we now know for a fact he doesn't need to do, seeing as he finally broke character when Adam wrecked his cane) and reassuring himself that he’ll come out on top next time. But here his front shatters and we openly see what the show has been hinting he is for the first time: a deeply paranoid, desperate, and unstable man.

Essentially the worst-case scenario has happened: after a season of interfering with every attempt to capture him on camera, Vox has footage of him at his lowest point for all of Hell to see, and he’ll have “died” a martyr, a weakling, and still in the chains of an unwanted contract. For Alastor, who is so deeply afraid of showing any sign of vulnerability, who wants to be seen as a monstrous Overlord, it’s understandable that this humiliation is enough to send him into a mental spiral and recant any fondness for the hotel in favor of accomplishing his own goals. Worse yet, when we next see him he gives zero indication of any of this even when Charlie and company are simply glad that he's alive, which leaves us to wonder: has he been like this behind the smile from the very beginning?

___

Part 2: Closing Thoughts and Future Speculation

With everything we’ve taken note of above, we can start to piece together a picture of who this guy is, and what the writers are going to do with him.

Alastor is sentimental. It’s not just his attachment to older technology or his love for being the center of everyone's attention. He likes being around people, he has friends, one of which he continuously indulged despite her using him multiple times, and he ultimately was starting to enjoy his time at the hotel before his defeat spooked him. Despite him using her, the fact that he was even willing to let Charlie use his cane (and note that he takes it from her as soon as she’s given a substitute, so that is a significant gesture for him) is an implicit display of trust whose implications don’t become apparent until the finale.

But this is paired with deep insecurity. Alastor, despite being one of the most powerful people in the Pride Ring, has a crippling fear of being seen as vulnerable or “lesser” by others. There could be multiple overlapping reasons for this: the general climate of Hell, whatever happened to him seven years ago, his experiences as a mixed-race human living in Prohibition-era Louisiana, his original death, a natural predisposition, etc.

Regardless, this anxiety of his is so overwhelming that, when paired with the ever-present stress of not owning his own soul, it’s driving him insane. He made a splash in Hell upon entry and now he’s desperately trying to reinvoke that in order to defend himself both physically and mentally. He’s the gifted kid who’s slowly going nuts trying to keep up an impossible momentum as they grow older. He’s an ex-human denying his humanity because he doesn’t want to feel human. Everyone’s out to get him, and anyone who could be an enemy is an enemy unless he has total control over them via a contract, power, or the reassurance of years of close friendship. It’s why he’s cordial to Zestial but takes Carmilla (who wasn't even trying to spite him) and Lucifer’s comments personally, in the same way someone with low self-esteem might want to lash out against an authority figure who they feel is looking down on them.

Worse yet, he can’t/won’t let these feelings out and is bottling them up so that no one will know he feels this way (note how quickly he was able to relax in Dad Beat Dad when he was given an outlet for his stress), because that’s a sign of weakness too. It’s honestly kind of frightening that in his final scene he gives zero indication of being injured or of just having had a meltdown. By all outside accounts, he’s his usual chipper self, and no one at the hotel save for maybe Husk, who can’t say anything Alastor doesn’t want him to, would realize anything is amiss. The reason his part of “Finale” is chilling isn’t just because of the implications that he will become an antagonist in the future–it’s that his mental state is so poor that he is no longer acting rationally, which makes him unpredictable in the worst possible way.

I think Alastor’s character arc isn’t going to be redemption by way of going to Heaven, I don't think that place is his style anyway, but rather redemption of his own self-image. I don’t think the writers would make what is arguably the most popular and well-developed character in the show just to say that he’s hopelessly evil and simply end it at that. We’ve been exposed to multiple facets of his character, and while his deeds and probably his intentions are sinister, his underlying motivation for it all seems to be “freedom,” which decidedly isn’t (unless your name is Eren Jaeger).

I do believe that he’ll have his villain moment where he indulges in his worst impulses, but that ultimately it won’t do anything to fulfill him, because as we see in the official comics before the release of the show (which may no longer be canon but still give a viable “baseline” for the characters), when his desire to be feared and respected is granted, it only isolates him. Like the others, he’ll have to hit rock bottom before he can climb back up.

Pentious, who was successfully redeemed, needed to understand that people weren’t out to get him, which allowed him to make the decision to put his friends before himself and trigger his selfless sacrifice. Angel, who’s well on his way to redemption, needed to realize he wasn’t alone and could rely on others, and his confidence and self-love has grown enormously since then. I think these are both lessons Alastor will need to learn eventually as well. He’s the manager of the hotel, but also undoubtedly a patient. He’s hungry for freedom, but only when he learns these lessons will he be truly free.

Or maybe I’m thinking too much into it idk lmaooooo

#hazbin hotel #hazbin theory #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin analysis #zestial morde #carmilla carmine #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #thank god i finally released this now i never have to think about this show again #that tragic feeling when the tumblr sexyman bait is the best character in the show #alastor does not have a blanket hatred for everyone who's more powerful than he is #if he did then he'd despise charlie too and genuinely doesn't seem to #rather it's towards ANYONE whether stronger or weaker than him who refuse to acknowledge him #oooooooh this boy's got a complex but he's a VivsiePop character so it's par for the course #but anyway some of the takes people have made on him are abysmal to me so i wrote my first tumblr post in a decade

[livwritesstuff]

Tommy POV, wc: 2890, full version on ao3

Tommy Hagan is not jealous of Eddie Munson.

He’s not.

There’s nothing to be jealous of, in his opinion, and Tommy probably wouldn’t be thinking about him at all if Eddie wasn’t the most publicly well known member of his graduating class – well, he hadn’t actually been in his graduating class, Tommy supposes.

They had been seniors at the same time, though.

If Tommy happened to be jealous of anything – and that’s a big if – it would probably have something to do with the famous thing. Everyone has a small part of them that wants to be famous at least in some capacity, he’s pretty sure, even if Eddie isn’t really, truly famous – not like the red carpet celebrities. He’s a writer. Even the most well known writers never get all that much attention, but Munson has his own Wikipedia page, and that’s more than anybody else from Hawkins, Indiana can say. Hawkins itself barely even has a Wikipedia page, and it’s only because of all the atrocities that happened in town in the mid-eighties.

Tommy hadn’t been around for the end of it all – the earthquake-slash-serial killer situation that never made any sense to him. He remembers his mom calling him at his college dorm when the deaths first started. He remembers her asking, “You went to school with that Munson boy, right? Do you think he could do something like this?”

And Tommy had been twenty and a total moron, so he’d said some dumb shit like, “Yeah, he’s into freaky stuff like that. Somebody should’ve put him on a list ages ago,” even though four years of experience told him that Eddie was all bark, no bite. Tommy hadn’t been surprised at all by the statements that later came out clearing Eddie's name, and by then his parents had already high-tailed it out of Hawkins so it all sort of became irrelevant to him.

Tommy never even returned to Hawkins one single time after he left for college (barring his high school reunion, obviously), and twenty years after graduation, he doesn’t really think about those years all that much.

He doesn’t love the person he’d been in high school. He was whiny and immature and had his priorities all messed up. Most of the memories he has of his teenage years, he looks back at and cringes, feels a whole lot of shame and embarrassment, but also some pride at how much he’s grown over the last twenty years. He also knows he’d been kind of a dick in high school, but that he’s less ashamed of. It’s normal, he knows, for kids to be mean, that it’s a standard response to being untreated kindly in other ways. Like, his dad had been an asshole to him as a kid, always on him about his grades and his smart mouth and how he’d no longer been a standout on any of his sports teams after starting high school, and Tommy had coped with that by poking kids beneath him at school. 

It’s just the pecking order of high school. It’s normal.

Even now, when Tommy’s son had dealt with some pricks in the year above him shoving him around, he had come home from school and tormented his little sister for a while – it’s normal, no matter how much his wife had tried to convince him it was something that needed addressing. It’s just kids being kids. They grow out of it eventually, just like Tommy had.

Occasionally he wonders where the kids he’d spent all those years with in the Hawkins public school system had ended up, but these days the internet makes that pretty damn easy to figure out.

He’s learned Tina got married and had kids real young. She still lives in Indiana. Carol, who he’d split up with before heading off to college, lives in Alabama now and she’s got kids and a husband too. Jonathan Byers is a photographer in California – Tommy isn’t into all that art-y crap, so he has no clue if he’s any good, but he definitely recognizes some of the organizations he’s worked for and if that’s any indication, Tommy would wager he’s not too shabby. No wife, though, he noted, so he’d either been right about Byer’s being a queer, or women just found him repulsive (admittedly, Tommy leans more towards the former – he’s a photographer). Tammy Thompson still lives in Tennessee, though it doesn’t seem like she does music anymore (husband, kids, blah blah blah). 

If he’s honest, the only person Tommy is actually interested in tracking down is Steve Harrington, and he’s the one person Tommy can’t find a single trace of online. No MySpace, no Facebook, no weird blog thing, nothing.

Vaguely, he wonders if Steve might be dead. A truly massive proportion of Hawkins had died over just a few short years in the mid-eighties. Maybe Harrington was one of them.

Tommy doubts it. 

He would have known. 

Steve’s parents would have made sure everyone knew if their son had died. Funnily enough, Steve’s mom is actually on Facebook, and pretty actively too, but there’s no sign of Steve anywhere on her page. 

He hadn’t even shown up for their high school reunion in the winter of ‘04, which is odd because Tommy had been certain he would.

He doesn’t obsess over it – he really doesn’t. It’s just a thought that pops into his mind every now and then – where the hell is Steve Harrington?

In the late spring of 2007, he gets his answer.

“Tom,” his wife says, “That guy from your high school is on the cover of this magazine.”

He knows without asking for clarity that it’s Munson – no other person makes sense – and when he eventually gets his hands on the magazine, he finds that he’s correct.

Eddie Munson is on the cover of a magazine because, apparently, he published another book. 

Truthfully, Tommy already knew that. 

It’s his fourth book (which, for the record, Tommy hadn’t known until he knew it because it’s not like he’s keeping tabs on this guy or whatever), and it’s been getting a whole bunch of mainstream attention after a controversial landing on the top of all those book charts Tommy doesn’t follow despite featuring a gay love store amidst all his normal fantasy crap. It sparked a whole debate about banning books and everything (dumb, Tommy knows, because if he learned anything in business school it’s that if you really don’t want something to exist, the best thing you can do is not funnel money and attention into it). 

Tommy does, in fact, watch the news so he’d already caught wind of all this – it’s part of the reason he can’t shake the guy – and it’s why Eddie Munson is on the cover of this magazine (because, seriously, nobody gives a shit about writers until it hits the news).

He allows himself a moment to look at the cover, to look at Eddie, who apparently goes by Ed now. Tommy is loath to admit it, but he looks good. His hair is normal and he’s grown into his frame, not all long and lanky and gangly limbs like Tommy remembers from school. He looks well-fed, confident, happy.

He looks good.

Tommy thumbs through the first few pages of the magazine until he reaches Eddie’s interview, and, again, he allows himself to look over the photo of him that takes up nearly three-quarters of the first page even if he has no intention of actually reading the article itself because, again, Eddie looks good (and maybe there’s something about the scruff of facial hair along his jaw that Tommy's eye gets stuck on). Tommy’s allowed to say that men look good when it’s true – it’s 2007, as his wife likes to remind him whenever it’s convenient for her, and if she’s allowed to say that Angelina Jolie looked good in that CIA movie, then Tommy is allowed to say that Eddie Munson looks good here.

When Tommy flips to the next page, he’s met with a photo that stops him in his tracks, has his feet frozen to the floor because –

Jesus Christ, that’s Steve Harrington.

Fuck, okay, so he’s reading this fucking article.

It takes Tommy a long time to get through it, honestly. Eddie comes out in the article, which might be a big deal, might not (and he doesn't care to be enlightened, thanks). He keeps getting distracted by the pictures scattered throughout it.

The pictures of Steve, mostly.

Because, well, if Eddie Munson looks good, Steve…

Steve looks alive.

Tommy didn’t realize it until this exact moment, but Steve had existed in his head for the last two decades as the eighteen-year-old he’d been the last time they were in the same room together. It hadn’t exactly occurred to him that Steve’s been aging this whole time too, just like Tommy has.

It’s undeniable that Steve is older. 

His hair is starting to go gray at his temples (it’s the only thing that’s changed about his hair since he’s still styling it the same as he did in high school – because why mess with a good thing, Tommy supposes) and he’s got just the hint of crow's feet around his eyes when he smiles. He’s smiling in all the photos – every damn one – and it has Tommy struck by how unbelievably happy Steve seems. It’s an effect that somehow both takes years off the age Tommy knows he is and shines a light on just how good those years must have been for him. 

There’s no solo shots of him like there are for Munson – though according to the article, it's actually Harrington now – and only half the photos are in color. The rest of them – the more candid ones – are smaller and left in black-and-white. 

The one that caught Tommy’s eye first – because it was meant to, he’s pretty sure; it takes up half the page – is right in that sweet spot between staged and candid where Steve and Eddie both know that they’re being photographed even though neither of them are actually posing. Eddie is grinning at Steve in a wicked way that still feels familiar to Tommy even two decades since he’d last seen it on him (probably swaggering around the cafeteria like a total jackass – not that Tommy would know anything about that). Steve is grinning right back at him with a smile Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

Or maybe he has, but not on this version of his face, not since Steve was as young as his oldest daughter.

Just as the author of the article said, the photos don’t show the faces of Steve’s children, either leaving them artfully out-of-focus or choosing shots where they’re turned away from the camera, but they’re still present, and it makes the whole spread almost feel like a photo album in a way, like it should be private but instead was published for the whole world to see.

Steve has three of them – kids, Tommy means. He didn’t know that Steve was a family kind of guy. It makes sense though, when he thinks about it. Steve’s parents were kind of a nightmare — present in the worst ways, and absent in the worst ways too (though it hadn’t seemed that way when Tommy was a teenager looking for a failsafe party house). He'd always felt kind of bad for the guy. Like, Tommy's dad had been a total piece of work, but they'd at least been around, and he'd stuck around long enough for them to sort out their issues at least most of the way, and these days he's a pretty kickass grandpa to Tommy's children.

Tommy wonders about Steve's parents now, wonders if they maybe came around like his own parents had, but then he remembers Mrs. Harrington's Facebook page and how there's not a damn trace of her son on there, never mind three grandchildren.

Tommy isn't sure he wants to touch that.

Steve is probably a really good dad, Tommy decides. He’d been kind of that way when they were friends — Steve used to say he wasn’t all that bright, but he always had a freaky sixth sense for reading people, for caring about them in exactly the way they needed.

There's one photo where Steve is managing to holding his youngest daughter — a tiny little baby still — and her bottle in one arm (that's a level-three dad hold, Tommy knows). The bottle is angled in a way that obscures her face, and Steve's other hand is being tugged on by another daughter, this one with a mop of curly brown hair remarkably similar to Eddie's when it was still long.

That's another thing Tommy won't let himself think about, (because he knows if did he'd start wondering if any of those kids were half-Steve).

Anyways, Tommy doesn't need glance to see that Steve wears fatherhood like a favorite sweater.

There’s something about this, about seeing these pictures, about the way Tommy is getting an answer to that question he’s had for years about where his childhood best friend has been all these years, that is making him feel like his ribcage is being split open, bones splintering and shattering as everything vulnerable inside his chest in suddenly out for display.

He probably should feel uncomfortable, right? Like, a guy he’d been seriously close to growing up — sleepovers and gym locker rooms and all that shit — had turned out to be gay. If his own son came home from school saying that his best friend came out or whatever as gay…well, again, it’s 2007, and Tommy doesn’t think his wife would allow him to denounce the friendship entirely, but there certainly wouldn’t be any sleepovers anymore. He thinks that’s pretty reasonable.  

What was the likelihood that Steve had been, like, into Tommy?

And that should be an uncomfortable notion too, and in a sense, it kind of is, but not necessarily in the way he would expect. 

He just doesn’t understand why all this feels so much like a loss because he knows that he hasn’t really lost anything – not since he got his hands on the magazine, anyways. Steve Harrington hasn’t played any sort of role in Tommy’s life since their final falling out in 1984, and as far as he’s aware, having a falling out with a close friend is pretty much a guaranteed part of growing up. His wife even experienced something similar when her own grade school best friend suddenly stopped answering calls and stopped reaching out after they’d started college – and his wife is basically the nicest person Tommy has ever known, so…it happens to even the best.

It’s just…Steve had always continued to exist in Tommy’s life in a way, even if he wasn't physically present, and maybe Tommy had figured it could be the same for Steve too, that maybe he sometimes wonders where Tommy is, wonders what he’s up to.

This article and these photos makes it pretty fucking clear that Tommy doesn’t even exist in the same galaxy as the life Steve is living.

And that’s not to mention the Eddie fucking Munson of it all.

Tommy had been kind of ignoring the Eddie of it all until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, because he doesn't care about Eddie Munson.

He'd never cared, but he'd spent years seeing the guy's face and his name everywhere, and now it feels like a sick joke, like he's the piece of Steve left in Tommy's life.

If the article is accurate (and he has no reason to believe it isn’t), Steve and Eddie have been together for longer than Tommy has even known his wife. Steve has been with Eddie for longer than Steve was ever friends with Tommy – not by a lot, but still more. That’s a long fucking time, and it’s clear as day on both of their faces that they’re just as in love with each other fourteen years in as they were on day one.

It’s not just Steve, and it’s not just Eddie, and it’s not one more than the other. It’s both of them.

There’s one photo in particular – a small black-and-white one that keeps pulling Tommy’s attention.

It’s another candid shot, taken from a bit of a distance. In it, Steve has Eddie boxed in against the counter in what has to be their kitchen. Eddie is leaning back against the edge of the granite countertop and looking at Steve with something sappy and fond on his face, and Steve’s hands are this close to grabbing Eddie’s waist as he looks at him the exact same way.

It’s shit out of a fairy tale or something, and sure, maybe someone could argue that they’re laying it on thick just for the sake of the magazine or whatever, but Tommy knows Steve Harrington and that look on his face is more real than Tommy had ever seen in all the years he'd known him.

So maybe Tommy has a reason or two (or three or four) to be jealous of Eddie Munson.

#unreliable narrator!tommy hagan my beloved #the ao3 version has the interview btw #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #tommy hagan

[cassandraclare]

A bit of publishing stuff (if you get my newsletter you've already seen this)

So by now you lovely people have all seen the announcement about what books I have coming up next. Ragpicker King is coming March 4, 2025, and The Last King of Faerie is coming early 2026.

I know a lot of you were hoping for LKOF to come earlier. It’s going to be a big gap between the last Shadowhunter book and the next — three years. Previously the longest gap between Shadowhunter books was two years, between Mortal Instruments and the Dark Artifices.

I announced last year that I was taking time off — six months. It was the first time I’d taken any real time off since 2005. The pandemic had just happened and I was wiped out physically and mentally. I also needed to take stock of where I was in my publishing journey and really think about what I wanted — it had been years since I’d had time to consider whether I was happy, because I always had another deadline and that was always more important.

  When I came to the end of The Last Hours, I was “out of contract” — meaning I didn’t have any further Shadowhunter books that were owned by or owed to a publisher.  it was the first time that had happened since, again, 2005. Being out of contract is your one chance to change anything you want to change about your career, and I knew I was going to leave my longtime US publisher of the Shadowhunter books and move to Random House, who published Sword Catcher.

This isn’t a small decision for any writer to make. It sometimes happens when a writer has been at a publisher for a very long time that the nature of the publisher changes. Maybe all the people you worked with when you first came to that publisher have gone elsewhere, so your team has inherited you rather than having chosen you. Maybe your publisher has been sold to another company whose vision for that publisher doesn’t fit with yours. Maybe your publisher isn’t interested in your genre anymore. 

I spent a lot of time agonizing over the decision—I certainly could have stayed where I was, but I knew that was no longer the best decision for the books. So those of you who pay attention to these kinds of details will note that where the other Shadowhunter books have all been published by McElderry Books, these next ones will be published by Knopf. (Who are an amazing imprint. They make great books.)

Normally a writer wouldn’t really address switching publishers — it happens a lot, and most readers don’t care who publishes a book. I’m talking about it now because I know there will be a lot of people who are angry and don’t understand why Ragpicker King is coming out before Last King of Faerie. The short answer is: Ragpicker King has been under contract since it was sold along with Sword Catcher, years ago now, and I’m obligated to get it done when I said I was going to. The books of The Wicked Powers are only just now securely under contract enough to be announced, as you just saw! So Ragpicker King is planned to be turned in in a couple of months, and after that I will be able to focus entirely on The Last King of Faerie (which I already began, but since it was only sold to Knopf last October, I was only able to get started after that).

And it takes a a year at least to write a book and another good year or so to publish it, and that gets us to the pub dates we’ve got. I would love if I could get it to you earlier, but multiple factors have brought us to this point, and in the end, not rushing through them is the best thing for the books, and will produce the best version of those books. I always want to get you my best work — that’s what is important to me above all things.

In terms of other publishers in other countries — I’m staying with all my longterm Shadowhunter publishers. Nothing’s going to change for y’all — Walker Books is still publishing Shadowhunters in the UK, even though a different publisher is going to publish In Fire Foretold there (due to spiciness.) ;) 

For those of you who backed the Kickstarter, that will mean you do get new Shadowhunter content between now and early 2026* — which was part of the reason I did it! I’m also talking to my new publisher about bringing Better in Black out — with at least a six month gap for the Kickstarter backers to have it to themselves — so fingers crossed. There’s also Black Volume of the Dead, the final Eldest Curses book, which is still planned and which I am still excited to write, but since it is set after Last King of Faerie, it hasn’t been scheduled yet. More news on that as it develops—for now, I wanted to talk directly about the schedule in the next couple of years, since I feel confident it is set and will reliably happen this way, something I can’t yet say about 2027 and beyond. The point is, I’m really excited to bring you Wicked Powers just as soon as it is ready, and I know enough about it to say  it’s going to be quite a ride!

And also an early look at In Fire Foretold.

#shadowhunters #the wicked powers

[scribbledghost]

Letter

A/N: I really wanted to expand on some stuff I said over here. It's not a full fic, because it felt right to end it where I did, but I hope you guys enjoy regardless. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader (no Y/N) No warnings required. Word Count: ~620

It’s early when Captain John Price hears his office door open, the sun just barely beginning to peek over the horizon. The steady footsteps that follow once the door closes again tell him exactly who it is without the need for him to look up and confirm, but he does so anyway.

“Good morning, Simon,” Price says. “You’re early. Brief isn’t for another hour. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Delivery,” Simon says from behind his mask as he extends a hand.

In it is an envelope.

But it’s not addressed to John.

“What’s this for?” he asks as he takes the letter.

“Your desk,” Simon replies simply.

Oh. 

It’s that kind of delivery.

It’s no secret (amongst the team, anyway) that in Captain Price’s top left desk drawer, behind lock and key, is a cache of similar letters. Two are from Price. Several are from Gaz. A small bundle is from Soap. Inside are contents meant only for the requested recipients, and only intended to be read if the writer doesn't come home. Each one is written with the express desire to never be opened, but with the somber knowledge that they might.

None of the letters in the Captain’s desk had ever been written by Ghost. 

Until now.

“I’ll make sure it gets to its destination,” Price says simply. “Why don’t you have a seat? Still got time before the briefing.”

After some hesitation, Simon does so. It’s almost as if the silent giant knows what’s coming.

They’ve worked together for some time, after all.

“You’re really serious about this girl, aren’t you?” Price finally asks as he lights up a cigar. It’s less of a serious inquiry than a request for confirmation - receiving a letter addressed to her has already given him the answer.

“I am.”

“Can I ask why now?” Price ventures slowly. “Somethin’ happen to spook you?”

He drags his mind through their most recent mission, searching for any sort of close call or event that could’ve sent Simon’s mind down the road that told him he’d need to leave a goodbye note for her.

“No,” Simon says simply. “Not really. Just been on my mind lately, that’s all.”

Price nods. He doesn’t need Simon to elaborate, sometimes these things intrude on one’s mind even during more peaceful hours. He knows that all too well. He exhales smoke, watching in the lamplight as it curls through the air.

“I take it you want her to have your tags too, then?”

“Yes.”

The silence stretches across them, neither man taking the initiative to continue the conversation. Price would be content to sit in the quiet until he needs to brief the rest of the team on their upcoming mission, truthfully. Sitting in silence with Simon is rarely an uncomfortable thing, unless the other man intends for it to be. Instead, he takes his keys, unlocks his desk drawer, and stashes the envelope with the rest before securing it once more.

“I’d just hate for her to… not know. If something happens, I mean.”

Price nods again, and again, he understands. 

It’s a big step for Simon, having an official tie to someone else outside of base, and Price knows it. He also knows that it’s to be kept as secret as possible, and he doubts Simon will even tell Gaz or Soap unless he has express reason to. The only reason he knows about her is because Simon had declined sticking around after last mission’s debrief, telling him there was someone he needed to see.

“I’ll make sure she’s taken care of,” Price promises, and he means it.

He doesn’t point out how Simon’s shoulders release some of their tension in response.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost scribbles

[lilliankoo]

wanna play you like a game. jeon jungkook. 02

series masterlist!

pairing: villian! antagonist! tribe leader jk x princess! y/n.

trope: "he's mean to everyone but worships the ground you walk on" will absolutely do anything for you, strangers to lovers.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: made up rituals; mentions of animal sacrifice, weapons, blood, jungkook sacrifices by offering his blood, mentions of a made up forest goddess, power dynamics, slight jealous jk, possessive jk, crying, manhandling, y/n using her authority 😍, addressing y/n as “mother” Alot of times, using husband/wife terms for each other, marriage ritual, kisses 😘, more kisses, bondage and I apologize if i missed something.

author's note: OMGG THE MASTERPOST GOT SOOO MUCH LOVE SO I HAD TO FINISH WRITING THIS ASAP.. not a professional writer + this is not proofread 😜 Pls ignore any mistakes & lets goooo.

you are confused and so are your parents; you can tell because of the way they both look at you and then jungkook. “ritual?” your father asks him. Jungkook slightly smiles and looks around. you cannot really pinpoint what’s going on in his head but you are sure whatever it is- it is not good. He sighs and takes a few steps back. “here in lav, we don’t believe in marriages, we perform a soul tying ritual”. His words are foreign to your ears, your brows naturally furrow in confusion and you are too scared to look at your parents right now. you look at him and the way he’s looking at you; too much adoration, compassion, care…love….you can tell your mother was right- he is indeed in love with you…well maybe not love but it is similar to that. you gulp and look at your father who is standing to your right. He looks at you and intertwines his hand with yours. and like always; you calm down- there is no denying in the fact that growing up you were more close to your father as compared to your mother. However, what you don’t notice is the clenched jaw of Jungkook and him looking at your father- he clearly doesn’t like this interaction.

Jungkook clears his throat and extends his hand in front of you. “Come” he murmurs.

not to ruin all of this, you take his hand and follow him up the stairs. He makes you stand in front of the centered chairs while your parents are standing by the stage. you look back at them when suddenly an old man approaches you with a big mantle made of fur and leather. He drapes it over your shoulders while praying in a language you don't understand. the mantle is the same as jungkook is wearing- you notice. And, on the stage, beside you and jungkook- stands the old man, two women and the guy who brought you here previously. one of the women- dressed in brown leathers- walks up to you and smiles. She says something to Jungkook and he nods. He motions you to sit and you comply. Due to your dresses and the mantle; you have a difficulty sitting, you try to fold the dress by your feet but the corset doesn't give you much space to bend. In an instant, Jungkook once again bends to his knees and starts fixing your dress. And oddly, this gesture causes a weird feeling in your core. While he is busy fixing your clothes, you look around and notice how everyone is shocked. The old man’s mouth is agape, the women are shocked, the crowd is murmuring and shuffling around to get a better look and your parents- your father’s mouth is agape too while your mother is smirking at you in a way that says, “I told you”. “Is it okay?” Jungkook's words pull you out of trance and you mindlessly nod. He smiles and stands up to sit back on his chair.

After some time and a few preparations, the “ritual” starts. Everything happening around you is completely foreign to you. A man is drumming in the corner, another is blowing into a shell-like tool and another man is making animal-like noises- all of this is too much for your ears. A particular shrill like noise catches your attention and that’s when you see a pair of two goats tied to a post in the corner. you are not sure what it is for however the possibility of them being here to be sacrificed sends a chill down your spine. you are observing your surroundings when a woman walks over to you with a bowl. Due to your sitting position, you really can’t see what’s in there. She swipes her two fingers in the bowl and whips them out. Her fingers are covered in mud like substance and when she reaches for your face- you lean back. The woman steps back and looks at jungkook. The woman talks to him in the language you can’t understand, he looks at the bowl and motions her to hand it to him. He sits back and turns fully towards you. “You don’t have to be scared, this is just fuller’s earth clay mixed with rose water and coconut oil, this is necessary and a vital part of the ritual,” Jungkook says in such a sweet tone that has you doubting his motives. “Here, look it is harmless' ' he says while saying something to the woman in front of you. The woman reaches for the clay from the bowl and applies it on Jungkook's throat, draws a half moon symbol on his forehead and two parallel lines on his jaw. When she finishes up, she reaches for your face and once again you lean back. you see, you want to test something; more like test jungkook- you don’t like how he has such hold and power on everyone, he disrespected your father and now you are going to do things to maybe disrupt this ritual a bit. “I want you to apply this on my face” you timidly say while looking at him. At your remark, his eyes go wide in surprise and the old man from before- who gave you the mantle- clears his throat and steps forward to probably interject. From your understanding, maybe Jungkook is not supposed to do this. The old man tries to say something but Jungkook raises his hand in his direction- without looking at him- to silence him. He smiles at you and nods. The gasps reach your ears from the crowd and people around you, when jungkook cradles your jaw in one hand and applies the clay on your face. He draws the lines and symbols similar to his. He moves your face side to side slowly to see his work and when he makes eye contact with you he smiles once again and murmurs “pretty”. This gesture has you fuming from the inside because this wasn’t something you wanted, this wasn't the way you wanted him to act. He lets go of your face, hands back the bowl to the woman and claps both of his hands once to signal something.

The ritual goes on for another ten minutes and you sit there quietly and participate in the “activities”. After the clay application, you were told to wear a crown like headband made out of peacock feathers, tied numbers of bracelets and bangles to your wrists and were told to recite several prayers. After all of this, the old man steps forward once again and nods lightly at Jungkook's way. He understands and looks your way. “The ritual is done however to seal this fully, one thing is still undone. Now it is time to do it” he tells you while intertwining his hands with yours and making you stand up. you both walk down the few steps of stairs in the direction of the post. before reaching there, jungkook makes you walk towards your parents, first. you look at your parents and for some reason they both look relieved. your father for the first time since morning, smiles at you. Just as you are about to hug him, Jungkook interjects and hugs your father. “Congratulations” Jungkook says and your mother quickly replies back the same. “We would love to have you both stay, however the next ritual is only for the people of lav” jungkook says while looking at your father. “The carriage is ready” he says while pointing at the carriage in the distance. Blood drains from your face when you realize; your parents are leaving and maybe you won’t ever see them ever again. At Jungkook's remarks, your father nods and asks Jungkook if they can talk to you in private. Jungkook denies and tells him to say whatever he wants to say right in front of him.

“Take care, may the god be with you” your father says while caressing your head.

“you will be fine here my baby, jungkook will keep you safe” your mother says while looking at jungkook. your emotions were already heightened and the thought of being alone here scares you. tears automatically leave your eyes and hug your parents.

“I want to go with you” you tell your father but before your father can reply, jungkook steps in front of you and says “you cannot”. rage consumes in a minute as you look at him; suddenly the mantle feels heavy on your shoulders, the feathered crown is mocking you, the bracelets on your wrist feel tighter than usual and that's why you try to untie them hysterically while your jaw is clenched and your eyes are continuously watering. Jungkook holds both of your arms to stop your little tantrum and makes you look at him. And for the first time since morning, you see the “real “ jungkook. His eyebrows are furrowed, his jaw clenched and his eyes are no longer looking at you with love and adoration. “You are my woman now, you are the mother of this forest and these people, if you leave everyone will die including the forest, the people and me” he says breathlessly. His remark leaves you silent. you stare at him and wait for him to explain, but he does not. He lets go of your arms and rubs them; which you think is his way of apologizing.

you watch as the carriage leaves. you are alone in this forest village and your parents are no longer with you. “Come on,” Jungkook says while taking your hand. you mindlessly follow jungkook for the next ritual; you no longer have the energy to argue.

“This is the last ritual after this we will be each other’s forever” jungkook says in your ear and you shiver. The thought of living here forever as his “wife” does not sit right with you. “what will happen?” you ask him. Jungkook does not reply well for a few minutes. He takes a deep breath and squeezes your hand. “We are going to give a gift our forest goddess, this day wouldn’t have been possible without her” he replies. you are about to ask him another question when a woman dressed in black steps in front of jungkook with a machete in her hand. your eyes go wide at the realization; they are going to sacrifice the goats to their “goddess”.

“Everyone, the goddess devti has blessed upon jeon’s once again and has given our leader jeon jungkook another gift, for years, this forest yearned for a mother and here she is” the woman’s voice booms as she addresses the crowd around you. “Today jeon jungkook and y/l y/n became one, today the lav and his people got their mother. may goddess devti keep blessing the lav like this and protect her people. may devti bless our leader jungkook and mother y/n with a prosperous future” she finishes and the crowd roars in response. “no man can defeat him for he is blessed by the devti” the woman and the entire crowd chant in union.

your ears are ringing by the time she finishes. Saying that you aren’t scared from all of this will be a lie. to make all of this worse, she bows her head and offers you the machete. Your hands shake as you hold the machete and look at it. The pair of goats squeal in horror as if they are aware of their destiny. You look at Jungkook and he just smiles. “Go on, give her blood” he says. You are shaking your head as you try to back from this scene. You hand the machete to Jungkook as you tell him how you cannot kill innocent animals. “y/n, my love this is not killing, you are simply going to offer goddess devti blood” he says while trying to calm you down. You're hyperventilating as tears stream down your face. Jungkook keeps murmuring sweet things in your ear to calm you down.

Something comes to your mind and you stop sniffing. Everyone around you looks at you in worry and confusion. “Jungkook.. your goddess needs blood right?” you ask him and he immediately nods. “Well, i do not want to kill the baby goats, i will be a mother too in the future, we will have children too, these baby goats should be with their mother right now” you say dramatically while wiping your tears. your words seem to have an effect on him as his eyes widen and he takes you in his arms. The thought of having children with you excites him and sends a blush to his face. “If she wants blood, give her yours” you say while placing your head on his chest. you lightly smirk because your plan is working. Your short moment is interrupted when one of the people from the crowd steps forward and states his objection. “That is against the ritual-” you don’t let him finish his sentence when you let go of jungkook’s embrace and stand in front of the man. “Do not interfere while i am having a conversation with my husband” you tell him and he instantly bows. you observe him for a minute and control yourself from bursting into a fit of laughter. You see, if you want to survive here you need to think and act in a way that is in accordance with jungkook. Like now, Just after your comment, Jungkook steps in between you and the man and pushes him back into the crowd. “only talk to my wife like that if you want to become one with the fire” he warns. you are taken aback by his response like you weren’t out here calling him your “husband” but the thing is, you are manipulating him by using sweet words while he is serious. You are pulled out of your thoughts when you see jungkook reaching for the machete. you are about to stop him as you think he is going to kill the goats however, jungkook surprises everyone when he slides the machete in the palm of his left hand. The people around you gasp and protest when suddenly jungkook wipes his bloody palm over the stone statue of the goddess devti. The atmosphere goes still, you no longer can hear people chattering, even the birds chirping go silent. You see as Jungkook breathes heavily, his long hair now in front of his eyes and no longer tied back. Everyone is too scared to move, and in that moment, you dont know where you get the courage from when you walk over to him, make him turn towards you and kiss him. Maybe it is the conclusion of your heightened emotions or the way Jungkook keeps doing whatever you are telling him to do. Jungkook quickly regains his consciousness and kisses you back. His blooded hand is on your jaw while the other is still holding the machete. He moans into the kiss and that’s when you realize where you are and you instantly break it. Jungkook tries chasing your lips but you just shake your head at him- and as always he understands. Your little moment with him is cut short, when the old man takes the machete from Jungkook and throws it away. He pats Jungkook on the back and starts speaking.

“May the goddess approve of this, may she blesses the mother as she blessed upon this village, from this day till the very end; mother y/n and jeon jungkook be together”

-

After the “ritual” you were quickly escorted to Jungkook's house, you were now sitting on his bed after showering and having dinner. It's been around two hours since all that, Jungkook bid farewell to you and told you how he will be back in a few hours; he probably went out to “celebrate” with his people. You are bored as you look around the room; the room is big and simple. Besides, the bed in the middle has two big windows draped with curtains, a chest in the corner and that's it- you definitely need to work on the interior here. Suddenly, you hear three knocks on the door and you stand up from the bed to open it. you open the door and there stands jungkook with flowers in his hands. He smiles at you and hands you the flowers after stepping in. Jungkook sits on the bed, looks at you and offers his hand. He makes you sit on his lap as he puts his head in the column of your neck. You both sit there quietly in each other’s presence before you turn to face him and ask him why everyone keeps calling you “mother”. Jungkook laughs a little before saying, “don’t worry about it right now, i will tell you when the right time comes” he finishes after tucking your hair behind your ear. There are so many questions you want to ask him but you decide you will ask him in the morning as you are too tired. You hum in response and trace his nose with your finger. Jungkook giggles and pecks your lips. you furrow your brows as you look at him- he is not evil like he is described as, your entire kingdom fears him yet the way he is acting towards you makes you doubt if the rumours you heard about him are true or just false rumours. you watch as he gulps while tracing your waist with his hands, he looks up at you as if he was asking permission and you smirk. you shift on his lap to properly straddle him and you lean back when he tries kissing you.

“We got married today but I didn't even receive any gift” you state. Jungkook looks at you with his big boba eyes and once again- gulps. “What do you want, my love?” “I want you to get me diamonds,” you reply. Jungkook coughs as he registers your words.

“we don’t mine diamonds here, that is hard to arrange” he replies while caressing your thigh.

“Well, Jungkook, I want diamonds and you are going to get them for me” you know you are being unreasonable but hey! You love testing him. You trail kisses from his eyes to his nose and finally his lips. you hum into the kiss while your hands are busy removing jungkook’s clothes. you bite his lower lip which makes him hiss a little and break the kiss. He just smirks and connects his lips with yours once again as his hands too reach behind your back to unlace your dress. Just as Jungkook is about to remove your dress, you break the kiss and push him back onto the bed. You wipe your lips as you look at him. His lips swallowed, hair disheveled and naked torso. you start unlacing the front of your corset, you remove the dress completely and stand by the bed in nothing but your chemise. you push jungkook back once again when you see him trying to touch you. you smirk as you untie the pink satin ribbon from your hair and make your way onto the bed. you straddle his waist and peck his lips.

“Hands above your head, baby” you order him and he complies.

You quickly tie his hands above his head with the ribbon and sit back.

“now, jungkook let’s see if you can handle a woman like me”

SMUT INCOMING WOOOP WOOOOOOP

Next: chapter 2

taglist: @taumathegoat @easy2004 @babyitscoldoutside @00frenchfries00 @bangtans-momma @petalsofink @xumyboo @cloudyko0kie @jjanjankook @looneybleus @sureconfused @hanversace @fxirytaetae @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @msjae

#jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook recs #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungguk #jk fic #jungkook reader

[idkwhatimd0ingatall]

Victors First Birthday Story Translation

Big thank you to @valnyte!

// is an alternate translation ----- are breaks i created to pace myself T/N- first time adding pics so ignore how bad it might seem hopefully the translation was good enough! ALSO storyteller/fairytale writer are the same in this story. i just forgot to change it. sorry about the repeat sentences, was rushing this

The dark night was my friend, and death was myself.

I will walk, walk and walk in the dark again today.

And suddenly, I look back.

See, there lies a blood-soaked, happy face of death.

Kate: Victor, Harrison lent me a book the other day. So.........

I handle my responsibilities/job, while Kate takes on the role of a storyteller.

Listening to Kate's stories while working together in the office is becoming a part of my daily routine.

(......You look like you’re having fun. Kate has become a full-fledged member of the Crown, hasn't she?)

Kate: Yes, that's right. It's about Marianne, the maid we discussed the other day.

Victor: Oh, in that case, give her some time off. It's important for her to meet her lover who is far away.

When I conveyed that the matter we discussed has been resolved, she blinked her eyes in surprise.

Kate: Victor, when do you sleep…?

Victor: When?

Kate: I understand you have an overwhelming amount of work. It seems like something I could never handle.

Kate: Even so, you promptly addressed the matter I consulted you about...

Victor: Oh~ Could it be that you're complimenting me? Well, that makes me happy!

Victor: But, unfortunately, even I need to sleep, and as a human, there's a limit to time.

//But unfortunately I sleep, and as long as I'm human, my time is limited.

Victor: Your consultation held an exceptionally high priority, you know.

Kate: …..Thank you, Victor.

Victor: The feeling is mutual. Thank you, Kate, for looking out for the kids working here.

Kate: And... if I'm misunderstanding/wrong, please disregard it.

Victor: ...Huh?

Kate: Victor, was there something that seemed to be bothering you?

Kate: Things that could cloud Victor's heart...

(This one/child truly has a keen eye for people, doesn’t she?)

Honest eyes deserve honest answers.

Victor: Tonight, William and I are embarking on a mission, but it's not a particularly pleasant one, I must say.

There's a story going around about a group that worships Her Majesty the Queen, essentially treating her as a deity.

(People are free to believe in what they want. We, as the Crown, have no right to condemn that. However..)

It appears that this organization kidnaps and imprisons women as idols, and if they are not considered worthy vessels for Her Majesty, they are killed.

//The group is said to kidnap and imprison women as idols and kill them if they are not worthy of Her Majesty.

Victor:  Tonight, we will proceed with the investigation, and if they are found guilty, we will deliver judgment in the name of evil.

//Tonight, we'll intensify the investigation. If they are guilty, we'll bring judgment in the darkness.

Kate: ...Committing murder in the name of their worship.

Victor: Kate, there's a possibility that this mission might not be pleasant for you either. So--

Before I could finish my sentence, Kate responded with a determined look in her eyes.

Kate: Victor, would you allow me to accompany you as a storyteller?

Believing that above all, we should respect her will, that night, we infiltrated the organization's stronghold.

William: Belongings of the missing, bloodstains, and then a body was discovered. There's no way to deny it.

Kate: This case is... deserving of condemnation, isn't it?

//This case is... in black, isn't it?

(Tommy Yeager, a noble. Leah Rodriguez, a legislator. Kevin Nicholson...)

(Quite a lineup/assemblage of influential figures, isn't it?)

In times of insatiable greed, those in power liken the queen to a deity and seem to have wishes they want her to fulfill.

William: Tonight, I can speculate that the ritual is taking place in two locations. Either on the upper floor of this mansion or in the basement.

Victor: I'll go to the basement with Kate. Let's head there immediately to prevent further victims.

Kate: Yes...

William: Victor, how much mercy tonight?

Victor: None needed. Their actions deserve condemnation. Loyalty to your wickedness, William.

Kate, I didn't want to show her too much of the horrific scene, praying that this wasn't the 'right' place…

(Ah, I see. It seems like the basement is the 'right' place.)

In the basement, there was an altar-like structure with flickering candlelight. People wearing masquerade-like masks surrounded the altar, and at its center lay a young girl who seemed barely of age.

(So, that's the 'replacement' for the queen. ...Truly grotesque.)

I noticed a man attempting to lower a candle onto the girl's arm, and without hesitation, I took a step forward.

However, Kate moved before me.

Kate: ............no, stop!

The red-haired man with a mask: W-who is this girl! Let go, let go...

Kate: Please stay away from her!... Kyaa!

It happened in an instant, and Kate, who was pushed away, collided with the altar and collapsed on the spot.

Victor: Kate...? Kate...?

(It's okay, she's breathing. She just passed out...)

---In the moment of her collapse, something seemed to have rolled and fallen near Kate.

(...Ah, this is...)

*******FLASHBACK*****************

Victor: Kate, tonight you were supposed to accompany Elbert and Roger on a mission.

Kate: Yes, I'm not used to it yet, so I hope I won't be a hindrance.

Victor: I see. Then, take this.

Kate: A cameo hairpin?

Victor: May it protect you from danger.

Kate: Hehe, it feels reassuring that you've always been there to protect me.

Kate: Thank you, Victor! I'll be going now.

*******FLASHBACK ENDS********************

(...The thing I gave you when you first came to the Crown, isn't it?)

With closed eyes, Kate and the girl lying on the altar, and those who had died, the reasons for not holding back tonight were ample.

Red-haired masked man: Hah, because you disturbed our sacred ritual!

Black-haired masked man: Hey, wait... This gentleman...

Black-haired masked man: Isn't that Lord Victor?

Freckled masked man: Really! Why is His Excellency, the right hand of the queen, here?

While looking at the eerie individuals with masks, focus is on one of them.

Victor: You're the one who pushed this girl, aren't you?

Red-haired masked man: Y-yes... It was me, Lord Victor.

Victor: As I command you. Pledge your allegiance to evil.

//Let it be commanded in the name of death. Now, it's time for death to come for you.

The man's eyes gaze into the void, and his expression becomes euphoric.

Red-haired masked man: Ah... It feels so wonderful. I... I...

The man reaches for his own neck and tightens it, ending his life.

Black-haired masked man: He's... dead...? Why did he... commit suicide...?

Looking at the bewildered men, I focus on one.

Victor: ...Starting from the right, say your names.

Black-haired masked man: Tommy Jaeger... Ugh...

Another death command.

Freckled masked man: Leah Rodriguez. Ah, I... Ah!

Another death command.

Finally, what remained was silence and the serene faces of those who died, as if having beautiful dreams.

William: Is it settled? It seems I won't have a chance to step in.

Victor: Yes, Will. The 'target' was here.

//Yes, Will. The correct location was here.

William: As always, they seem happy in death. As if invited by a god.

(A god, huh?)

As if emphasizing that "Queen Majesty" is not a god.

Victor: ......Humans can never become gods.

William: If you say so, it must be true.

William quietly smiles and lifts the girl on the altar.

William: This girl is mine. I'll leave Kate to you.

William: Considering your anger, it seems Kate is involved.

Returning to the castle, Kate was examined by Roger, and he mentioned that she would wake up soon.

Gently placing the unconscious Kate on her bed.

(Kate. I'm truly relieved that nothing happened to you.)

While looking at Katel's face, I recall the night we first met.

I suggested the position of a fairytale writer to her, partly on a whim,

and partly because I expected it to bring change to the Crown.

Although they are different types, all the Crown members are strong.

That's why I believe that "change brought on by others" is necessary.

People become stronger with the presence of others.

(That change will guide those children to even more beautiful evil/wickedness, I thought.)

I watched Kate from a distance, or at least that was the plan,

(You, without me realizing it, seemed to have brought change to me as well.)

As William said, when Kate was hurt, anger surged within me.

Vividly, truly... human-like emotions

(When you're around, I feel like I'm pulled from being a spectator to being involved.)

(But)

Gently placing the cameo hairpin back in Kate's hair

(No matter how cute you are, I must remain "Assistant to the Queen Victor," by your side as a guardian)

(Beyond that or less than that is not allowed)

//(Not more, not less)

Because if not, my darkness, death, would engulf/swallow her.

I give her hair a gentlemanly kiss.

Victor: Consider it a bad dream of one night and forget everything. Nightmares and death won't chase after you because of me.

Victor: ...Goodnight, Kate.

The next day, when Kate woke up, she rushed to apologize to me.

Kate: I'm sorry, Victor. It's because I rushed out without thinking...

(Don't worry, even if I say not to, you'll still worry.)

//(Don't worry, even if you say that, you'll still be concerned.)

(Oh, that's right. If that's the case,)

Victor: Kate, why don't we have lunch together?

Victor: Ah, today was a lonely lunchtime for me, so I'm glad you're here.

Kate: Is this to make up for last night?

Victor: Of course. Sharing a delicious meal with someone is one of my joys.

Kate: Hehe, then I'm relieved.

(Oh, finally your wonderful smile is back.)

--Suddenly, a fine rain starts to fall above us.

Victor: It's just a passing shower. Kate, come here. Let's go to that gazebo over there.

Kate: Y-yes...

(Well, that surprised me. London's rain is so unpredictable.)

Victor: Kate, are you okay—

Before I could ask, Kate wiped my cheeks with her own palm.

Kate: I'm fine. Besides, Victor...

Victor: ............

Kate's palm, which is more concerned about me getting wet than herself, is incredibly gentle.

It's like rain falling softly from a clear sky, and it once again brings change to my heart.

Kate: Besides, Victor...

Kate: There's something Liam wanted to give you. He was searching, saying he had to give it to you yesterday.

(Oh...)

Victor: Yesterday was my birthday.

Kate: ......Eh?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kate: Eh!?

She seems to be the most surprised she's ever been since we met, making me laugh.

(It was just going to make her worry, so I didn't plan on revealing it myself.)

Kate: I'm sorry. I didn't know, and I didn't prepare any presents...

Victor: Haha, it's okay. I already bought it, Kate.

Kate: ?

Victor: Yesterday, you spent the entire day with me.

Victor: I wanted to respect your will, but deep down, I may have also wanted the childish desire for you to be with me on my birthday.

Victor: ...So, thank you, Kate.

Kate smiles and looks up at the sky, where the rain has stopped.

Kate: ...Hey, Victor. I'll become stronger, more and more.

Victor: Why is that?

Kate: I'm sure you'll protect me from something again. But... even if I'm weak...

Kate mutters that there are many things in this world that she doesn't need to know.

And she adds, "But, if it's you, Victor, I want to know everything. And..."

Kate: When you're going through a tough time, I don't want to just laugh and pretend I didn't know anything.

She laughs and looks at me, captivating me with those words.

Crown and I were changed, not just because of the changes she brought.

Kate herself is changing, becoming more beautiful with every blink.

(...She's like a spring storm)

I wonder if, one day, I'll be caught up in this storm and reveal the truth to her.

(But, for now)

Victor: Don't hurry too much to become strong, Kate. I might get lonely.

(Just a little longer, like this)

#ikemen villains #ikevil victor #ikevil #ikevil jp #ikevil spoilers #ikemen villains victor #ikemen villains spoilers #Hes so fine #ikevil translations

[imaginespazzi]

Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

But if (my) world was ending, you'd come over right?

(In which UCLA anon's roman empire became this writer's roman empire and we've finally reached the beginning)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 8.4 K (other parts will be shorter....maybe)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Gonna keep this as short and sweet as possible but we've finally, finally gotten to the UCLA fic. A huge shout out to UCLA anon, because this is their master idea. Couple of things, I've never been to LA or UCLA and therefore some things are out of whack. The timeline is also a little out of whack but I swear I will try to keep it as consistent as possible. In the mean time, just ignore some of the inconsistencies pretty please. As always, feel free to let me know what's bad, what's good and what else you'd like to see. I hope y'all enjoy this first part and let's get another W today!

August 2021

where are you 

i literally have to be at the airport in an hour paige where are you 

dude 

are you on your way?

you better be driving and that’s why you’re not answering 

PAIGE

i’m sorry about last night i shouldn’t have said that 

but you said a lot of shit too so call it even?

this isn’t funny where are you?

i have to leave in 15 mins 

are you actually not coming?

wtf????

this is actually bullshit

get over yourself bueckers 

wow 

fuck you

just landed 

thought you might like to know 

sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess 

September 2021

dude enough okay 

can you just call me back??

i just wanna talk 

i know you're mad i get it but i miss you   

November 2021 

hi i’mma be in dc over christmas

nvm 

idk why i’m trying again  

maybe i should block you 

this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck 

December 2021

i thought i saw you today but idk

couldn’t have been you cause if it was 

would you really not even say hi?

i’m done trying paige 

merry christmas i guess

March 2022 

i misz you 

lyke a wot

love uuuuu pppppp

even if ur a bwtich 

pkese pick up 

ignore that 

people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you 

wait 

i don’t need to tell you that 

you already ignore it all anyways

 

August 2022 

i heard about the acl 

i’m sorry 

idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk

nvm 

***

September 2022 

When the doorbell rings, on a quiet Thursday afternoon during a rare moment of alone time, Paige expects it to be a lot of people. One of her parents deciding that they actually weren’t going to leave her alone. Someone else in her family showing up out of the blue to provide comfort. Maybe one of her teammates popping up to keep her entertained. She even thinks it might be some random fan who got too invested and figured out the address for her air BnB. It’s the saddest testament to how broken they are, that the idea of it being Azzi Fudd standing outside her door, never once crosses her mind. But there she is, when Paige opens the door, dressed in ripped jean shorts and a light blue tank top, the girl that had been her best friend, and maybe a little bit more. 

Silence stretches between them as Azzi fidgets with her hands and Paige continues to stoically stare at her. It’s been almost a year since they’ve seen each other, even longer since they’d last shared a happy smile. And you’d have to go back to before she’d told her about her future plans, to find the last time Azzi had properly looked Paige in the eyes.  

“Hi,” Azzi says finally, mustering up a small smile. Paige doesn’t know if hearing that voice, soft and subdued but still so familiar, fixes a crack or breaks her heart even further. She wills herself to be polite in response, to match Azzi’s polite greeting with a greeting of her own. But there’s clear discord between her mouth and her head, because her words are harsh and hollowed. 

“What are you doing here?”

Azzi swallows, smile disappearing as she immediately digs her fingernails into her palms and Paige feels the guilt settle into her stomach. It’s like the night before all over again. If she closes her eyes, Paige can still hear her voice loudly echoing in Azzi’s childhood bedroom. She can hear the angry words that she’d hurled at her best friend, each one like a well-aimed arrow piercing the other’s girl's heart and tearing into Paige’s own soul. Some would call what she’d done self-preservation. She’d call it her biggest mistake. 

“I um-,” Azzi sucks in her bottom lip, “I was in the area and thought, maybe I’d check in.”

“How did you even know where I was?” Paige hates how cold and accusatory her voice sounds. It’s a version of herself she doesn’t quite know how to deal with, one that hasn’t ever appeared for anyone other than the girl in front of her, “I know I didn’t tell you.”

Any semblance of calm is gone from Azzi’s face, as she seems to realise that she’s not going to be getting any cordiality from her old friend. 

 “And we’re off to a great start,” she mutters under her breath before replying to Paige’s exact question, “no you didn’t. Your dad-”

“You talked to my dad?”

“Yeah. I mean you know Drew looks up to Jon and José so much and they still talk and stuff and he came over- Drew I mean- and then your dad was there and we just got to talking and you came up and yeah. He told me and well I live here, kinda, so I thought- well I thought maybe you’d like some company?”

As Azzi’s rambling explanation comes to an end, Paige doesn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in her voice at the last bit. The younger girl shuffles her feet, as she stares at the blonde expectantly. 

“I don’t-” Paige struggles to draw in a breath as the voices in her head argue, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her words are met with silence as Azzi stares at her blankly. 

“I- you,” she blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss for what to say at the blatant rejection, “I can’t come in?”

“It’s just- I’ve had a lot of people visit you know,” Paige bullshits, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “and my family were here a couple days and my friends are coming soon and-”

“And I’m neither of those things,” Azzi says, her tone low and breathy. 

“That’s not what-”

“It is,” Azzi closes her eyes for a brief second, when she opens them, the flash of hurt in them feels like a dagger through Paige’s chest, “it is like that and it is what you meant and it’s- it’s fine.”

“Az-” Paige chokes out, feeling her lungs collapse when the other girl moves to leave, “please,” and she’s not even sure she’s asking for, but it’s not this. It’s never been this.

Azzi stops and when she turns back around, there’s a determined look on her face.

“I just-” she rubs her face, composing herself before focusing her eyes on Paige, “you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re going to come back from this, better than ever. I know it. The whole world knows it. Because you’re Paige Bueckers. You’re something else.  You’re the hardest worker, you’re just- you’re the best.”

“You don’t-”

“Just- just let me finish okay and then, then I’ll go or whatever but Paige, you’re all of those things you know? Strong, brave, the best fucking player- but, it’s also okay if sometimes-, if sometimes you aren’t. It’s okay because this- this is hard, I know it is. So if sometimes you’re not strong or-, or brave- or not feeling like working hard- it’s okay. And if there are moments where you- where you want to give up, that’s okay too. It doesn’t make you- it doesn’t make you any less than what you are. It just makes you human, and it’s okay you know- to be human. It’s okay if- if you hurt and it’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s- it’s okay.”

The two girls stare at each other, eyes shining with tears, as Paige let’s Azzi’s words wash over her. She’s been told a lot of platitudes about her injury, from her coaches to her teammates to her family. And she knows she has plenty of people in her corner, who root for her and who genuinely do believe she’ll have the greatest comeback ever. But the motivational speeches get draining after a while and all she’s wanted to do for the last couple of weeks is wallow. Then she felt guilty about wallowing, that little voice in her head yelling at her to be productive and work on getting back to herself because that’s what everybody expected. Paige hadn’t even realised how badly she needed someone to give her permission to not be okay, not until the only person who’d ever known that part of her, had finally said the words she so desperately needed to hear.

The thing is, when she was younger, Paige used to keep everything bottled inside. She’d always been hyper aware of her privilege and her problems had always just seemed so insignificant in front of her parents’ or her friends. So she’d kept them to herself, trapping herself in a web of her own burdens that sometimes threatened to strangle her. And then she’d met a girl at a USA basketball camp when she was 15, a girl who had gently flicked her fingers and Paige’s walls had fallen like dominoes. She hadn’t even known she was drowning, until Azzi had shown up with a lifeboat.

“I just-,” Azzi breaks Paige out of her trance by breaking the eye contact between them, “I didn’t know if anybody had said that to you yet and I just- I wanted you to hear it.”

In the span of a minute, a thousand and one phrases take birth in Paige’s mind and then die on the tip of her tongue. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to express even one of the myriad of emotions that are swirling like a tornado in her brain. But nothing comes out except a litany of incomprehensible noises. And Azzi seems to find the wrong answer in the silence, giving the blonde a timid nod. 

“Take care of yourself P,” her voice catches on the familiar nickname, as she shoots Paige a sad smile, before beginning to walk away. When Azzi chose UCLA, she’d lit Paige's heart on fire. So, Paige had drowned their friendship. And while all this time Azzi has struggled to breathe, Paige has burned but god, is she so fucking tired of it. 

“Fuck, Azzi wait,” Paige curses, hobbling to catch up to the brunette, who stops with a sigh but doesn’t make a move to return. Stubborn as always, Paige thinks, continuing her way over. When she does catch up, she’s not fully sure what to say and so,  “I uh- I’m out of milk.”

Azzi raises her eyebrows in question, crossing her arms protectively around her chest. 

“I can’t drive,” Paige explains slowly, “or walk obviously.”

Realisation dawns on Azzi’s face, “you’re asking me to drive you to the grocery store?”

“I guess,” Paige shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. 

“Seems like the kind of favour someone asks of their family, or their friends,” Azzi emphasises bitterly, never one to let go of an opportunity for sarcasm. 

Paige flinches, “right, I kinda deserved that one.”

She gets a raised eyebrow in response that very much says “ya think?”

“I’m trying here,” she says quietly, and Azzi’s hard demeanour softens, “I’m raising a white flag Az, calling a truce or whatever but it kinda needs to go both ways.” 

“What do you think me coming here was supposed to be?” the younger girl says exasperatedly, but she’s smiling again. It’s the third one Paige has gotten out of her today, and finally, she smiles back. They look a little foolish, standing in the apartment hallway, cheshire-cat-grinning at each other like idiots, but it feels like something has clicked into place again.  

“I’ll go grab my wallet, you go heat up the car.”

“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”

“Bro shut up, you know what I mean,” Paige huffs and when it makes Azzi laugh, she feels like she’s floating. It’s not as if she hasn’t been happy in a year because won’t you look at that, her world did keep turning after that one decision. But this is different. She feels airy and light, like she could jump off a cliff and fly instead of fall. 

“Well hurry up, I have things to do outside of just being your chauffeur.”

“Poor passenger princess, how the roles have reversed,” Paige mocks and it earns her an ever so familiar fond eye roll and for the first time in a year, she feels free. 

***

When she gets downstairs, Azzi’s leaning against her car door, a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes. The hot California sun shines brightly against her tan skin, and Paige’s heart stutters because fuck, Azzi is golden. She looks every bit reminiscent of the girl Paige still has memorised and yet, every bit the promise of a girl Paige wants to learn by heart. 

“Nice car,” Paige smirks, alerting the younger girl of her presence.  

“It does the job,” Azzi says, looking up with a smile of her own, opening the passenger door for Paige to get in, “not all of us are raking in NIL deals to get the big guns, but we make do.”

“Steph Curry brand ambassador say what now?” the blonde girl teases as she slides into the car. When she looks up, Azzi’s frozen in place, “what?”

“Nothing I just-” she’s wearing sunglasses, but Paige knows Azzi's trying to avert her gaze, “I’m kinda surprised you know that.”

It’s Paige’s turn to look away, their newfound comfort giving away to that old awkwardness, “I keep up with most basketball news.”

To Azzi’s credit she doesn’t push. Instead, she makes her way into the driver seat without another sound. She’s about to connect her phone to the aux but Paige beats her to it. 

“Hey,” Azzi squeals, making grabby hands, “my car, my rules, my music.”

“Nuh-uh injury privileges,” Paige gloats, sticking out her tongue. 

“That’s not a thing.”

“Is too.”

“Fine, we’ll listen to your crap music.”

“I resent that,” Paige retorts, as Drake blasts through the speakers. The sound of it makes Azzi groan, and she dramatically bangs her head against the steering wheel. Paige spends the rest of the car ride singing at the top of her lungs. Azzi spends the rest of the car ride alternating between shaking her head and joining in with the singing. It’s like they’re back in 2020 all over again, back before they found themselves in the whirlwind of life, back when they were just Paige and Azzi.

*** 

Their trip inside the grocery store takes less time than the ride to get there, even if Paige takes her time dilly-dallying in the dairy section, pretending she’s going to get anything other than just regular milk. She’s overly conscious of the fact that their time together might be coming to an end, that this time she might actually have to deal with saying goodbye. But she’s not ready to go back to missing Azzi just yet. 

“Maybe you can show me your dorm,” she says quietly, once they're both back in the car, playing with the hem of her shirt. Beside her, Azzi draws in a sharp intake of breath, clearly not having expected Paige to want that of all things. In all honesty, the idea of stepping into the world that had stolen Azzi from her is not all that appealing to Paige but she wants to hold onto this moment just a little bit longer. 

“You wanna see my dorm?” 

“A chance to see how the non-blue blood peasants live? I’d never pass it up.”

“Non blue blood,” Azzi scoffs, "Ever heard of John Wooden?”

“I was talking about women’s basketball but yeah I have heard of him. I won the award last year. Over you,” Paige smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Not everyone’s a phenom their freshman year,” Azzi retorts fondly, unable to mask the hint of pride in her voice. 

“Well we’ll see this year-” Paige stops herself, cold seeping into her lungs, as she remembers why she’s in the stupid state of California in the first place. The lighthearted mood in the car goes tumbling out the window as her words hang like a dagger in the air. 

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, trying to wrap that one syllable in comfort. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s shoulder but must think better of it because her hand hovers mid-air for a second, before she pulls it back. Paige is suddenly hyper aware of the fact they haven’t touched yet. It’s a reminder of the fact that whatever progress they’ve made today, there’s still so much they haven’t even begun to unpack. 

“It’s fine,” Paige’s voice is steely, “just drive.”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before simply nodding and starting the ignition. She’s clearly holding back and Paige doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a part of her that wants Azzi to push her to talk like she would before, but there's another part of her that knows this new rope they’re trying to string between them is fragile. 

They ride in silence to Azzi’s apartment, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts to bother with music this time. As the UCLA campus nears, Paige can’t help but hate it just a little bit. She’s aware she’s being petty. Acting like Storrs, Connecticut is some hub of beauty is probably a stretch of the imagination for anyone but she’s determined to dislike this place out of principle.

“Hmm not too shabby but like where’s the fucking cows?” Paige jokes, as the car comes to a stop in front of Azzi’s apartment building. She steps out gingerly, pretending to inspect her surroundings, making tsk-tsk noises at the most random things. 

“I’ve seen your apartment Bueckers, don’t even try,” Azzi retorts. 

It shouldn’t surprise Paige to see one of Azzi’s teammates when they enter her living room. It’s just like UConn really in the sense that there’s always someone there when you walk in but something about seeing Charisma Osborne just chilling in Azzi’s space suddenly makes it more real that the younger girl is definitely a UCLA Bruin. 

“Oh,” Charisma gives Paige a once-over, clearly not having expected to see her, “hi Paige.”

Paige waves, shuffling her weight on her crutches, unsure what to say. It’s not like she doesn’t know Charisma, they’ve literally won a gold medal together for USA basketball. She’s even met the girl a couple of times after and she likes her, she does. But her bitter brain is focused on the fact that this is one of those girls who had gotten Azzi as their teammate, one of the girls who got to see Azzi everyday. All things Paige had not gotten. 

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company Az,” Charisma says pointedly, looking at Azzi and Paige bristles at the use of the nickname. She’s being all sorts of ridiculous but at least she’s self-aware of it. 

“Last minute decisions,” Azzi replies airily. The two girls lock eyes and Paige can tell they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation and now the green-eyed envy monster is out in full force. 

“I insisted on seeing her dorm,” she says finally, breaking into whatever staring competition the two UCLA guards are having. 

“It’s not a problem,” Charisma reassures, standing up from her position on the couch, and coming over to give Paige a tentative hug, “I just didn’t know you were coming. But it’s good to see you, Paige.”

“Yeah,” Paige tries to muster up a proper smile as she leans in to return the hug but it comes out more like a grimace, “you too.”

“We’re gonna go chill in my room,” Azzi says, beckoning to one of the doors in the hallways and Paige obediently follows her, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Charisma. She’s secretly pleased to have Azzi back to herself. 

The room is nothing out of the ordinary except it has Azzi all over it. She’s in the pink comforter that is thrown haphazardly over a clearly not made bed. She’s in the unicorn plushies laid delicately over a dark blue couch. She’s in the little flower stickers that outline the mirror on the far side of the room. There’s a wall dedicated solely to pictures and fairy lights on one side and Paige is immediately drawn to it. A familiar ache reverberates in her chest as her eyes flicker over the pictures of Azzi’s family. She’s missed them. Then there’s the photographs of Azzi in her UCLA uniform, her teammates surrounding her and Paige has to resist the dangerous urge to rip those off the wall. Be happy for her happiness, the logical part of her brain yells, not seeming to realise she’d left any chance of that in the dirt a year ago. As she tears her eyes away from those offending pictures, they land instead on a whole other set of photographs and she feels her heart catch in her throat. 

It’s a set of three images of her and Azzi, taken at various moments. Paige brushes her thumb against the one of the two of them with their arms around each other at the Minnesota  state fair. Azzi’s beaming at the camera and Paige is beaming at Azzi. They look so young, so naive, so happy. 

“I’m on your wall,” Paige breathes out, turning to face her best friend, “Fuck, I’m on you wall.”

“Of course you are,” Azzi affirms, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but she shuffles nervously, giving away the reality behind her stable demeanour. 

“I never answered your texts. I didn’t call you back,” Paige lists quietly as the first tear falls from her eyes; she’s been holding them back all day, “and I’m on your fucking wall.”

Azzi looks away, unsure how to deal with the fact that apparently they’re no longer tip-toeing around the past. She doesn’t know how to tell the blonde that there had never really been a second thought about whether or not those photos were going up on the wall.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs finally, “you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend. Ride or die right?”

“Ride or die,” Paige repeats in a whisper before she all but throws herself at Azzi, practically moulding herself into the younger girl’s body. Caught off guard, Azzi stiffens for a second, before relaxing into it. It’s late outside and the sun has set, but in this moment, the world shines the brightest it has in a year as two stubborn girls finally find their way home to each other. 

***

That night, Azzi asks her tentatively if she wants to stay over and of course Paige agrees. Lying awake next to a familiar stranger, she lets herself finally remember the day things had first started unravelling.

November 2020

“You’ll probably get one of the upstairs apartments, so we probably won’t actually be living together which is good because can you imagine if I had to see your goofy ass 24/7?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, as she leads Azzi into her room.

She’s too caught up in her excitement having Azzi at UConn, and planning what’ll happen next year, to notice that the girl in question isn’t participating at all in her enthusiasm. Paige has been waiting for what feels like a year (in reality it’s only been a few months) to finally have her best friend come visit. The minute the car had pulled up, she’d taken it upon herself to start her sales pitch all over again, missing the sympathetic smiles she’d gotten from the rest of the Fudd family as she pulled Azzi away to show her the glories of the campus. 

“Did you see my assist to Christyn today?” Paige gloats, falling onto her bed with a smirk. 

“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes. 

“It was fucking perfect thank you very much. I set her up perfectly, exactly how she likes it.”

“Right.”

“And then did you see how excited the team was for her? For everyone? Never gonna find a greater group of girls.”

“They seem wonderful P.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows as she catches Azzi still lingering by the door instead of joining her on the bed. The brunette fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, chewing on her lips.

“Are you allergic to my bed?” Paige waits for some smartass response. When she doesn’t get one, she frowns, instincts going haywire, “Az, you good?”

“I- '' Azzi looks away, swallowing nervously, “I need to tell you something and I- I’m not sure how you’re gonna react.” 

“You get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something in the last few months that I don’t know about?” She says it light-heartedly enough, but the thought of it sends a sharp sting through Paige’s heart. In hindsight, she thinks maybe she could have dealt with it having been that. 

“What? No. Just- just don’t- dont take it personally okay. Like you can be upset about it but- but don’t hold it against me yeah? My parents- they said- they said you’d get it. You’d be upset but you’d- you’d get it because you- you get me right?”

Paige’s chest hammers as she watches the younger girl draw in a deep breath, “you’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”

“I’mcommittingtoUCLA” Azzi says all in one breath, the words blending together. 

She’s sure she’s heard it wrong. There’s no way. After all this time, after all their conversations, all the pitches, how hard she had worked, there was no way this was going to be the end to all of Paige’s efforts. 

“What?” she whispers, crossing her fingers that she has in fact misheard. 

When Azzi averts her eyes, she knows she hasn’t, “I’m committing to UCLA.”

The first time Paige and Azzi met was somewhat awkward, what with Azzi’s shyness and Paige being slightly overeager to make a new friend. When they’d become bus buddies, they’d progressed to being casual acquaintances who could small talk and share smiles. And then the flight back to Minnesota happened and everything had changed. Every moment after was filled with conversation or laughs or a comfortable silence. Until this one, where the sudden silence between them foreshadows an ominous future.

“Say something,” Azzi says finally, her voice shaking. 

Paige stares at her for a second before, “you named your dog Stewie.”

“What?”

“You named your dog Stewie. After Breanna Stewart who played at UConn. It’s not-” Paige wracks her brain, hands flying animatedly “it’s not Meyers or something, after someone who played at fucking UCLA. You named your dog after a UConn great. How are you going to take him to UCLA with you?”

Azzi stares at her, clearly not having expected that level of questioning of all things. Who could blame her when Paige herself feels a little insane. 

“This is a joke right? You’re fucking with me? Ha ha ha very funny,” she claps deliriously,  “hilarious prank seriously, like hats off you’ve outdone yourself but enough okay? Say sike right fucking now.”

Azzi makes a strangled noise, “it’s not a joke Paige. That’s- that’s my decision.”

“Then change it,” Paige yells, catapulting off the bed.

“Paige-”

“Have you told UCLA yet?”

“I wanted to tell my family and you first.”

“Oh wow, how kind of you. How fucking generous of you to do that Azzi,” Paige bites back sarcastically and Azzi flinches. 

In a flash, Paige’s expression goes from angry to desperate, “you still have time to change your mind . Please just- just think about it again okay? You still have so much time and you know what, stay here for a couple more days. Spend time with the team, with the coaches, with me and you’ll see-. UCLA just sounds nice you know? California, the sun, I get it, of course it’s tempting. But just- just stay here okay? And you’ll see this is where you belong,” she leaves the, with me, unsaid. 

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice cracks. She takes a step toward her and then pauses. It’s the first time in a long time that Azzi’s hesitated when it comes to Paige. It won’t be the last. And when she looks at Paige through her long eyelashes, tears threatening to fall from her dark brown eyes, Paige knows she’s lost. 

“No,” she’s pacing now, chest heaving up and down in a combination of frustration, anger and misery, “this is not fucking happening. We’re not doing this. I made you a whole recruitment video. Did you watch it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? Has the last year been a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course not-”

“Don’t even. Because clearly- clearly it has. Must’ve been hilarious watching me beg and plead with you when you already fucking knew you were going to committ somewhere else.”

“That’s not fair,”  Azzi’s voice rises at the accusation, “I had no idea where I was going until a couple of weeks ago. You can’t seriously think that low of me.”

“Not fair? You know what’s not fair, Azzi? We’ve been talking about playing together, about finally being on the same team, the same fucking state, for years. What’s not fair is you throwing all of that away on a whim.”

“I’m not committing to UCLA on a whim. This is my whole future we’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thought I’ve put into it. And I’m choosing what’s best for me. You can’t hold that against me Paige. You can’t.”

They stand on opposite sides of the room, taking in harsh staggered breaths and glaring at each other. The tension in the room is electric as the string connecting them frays. Paige and Azzi bicker, they don’t argue. Or at least, that’s how it used to be. 

“Az?” their stare down is broken by a knock on the door as Katie Fudd lets herself in. Immediately, as she stares between her daughter and the girl who’d become just as important, Katie knows what has happened, “we’re going back to the air BnB, are you staying here?”

The answer should be obvious, like it used to be. Of course she would stay here. It was meant to be a no-brainer. But before Azzi can say that, Paige intervenes and the string snaps. 

“She’s going with you,” the blonde says firmly, before turning her back. She won’t let Azzi see the tears, she won’t. For her part, the brunette stares at Paige’s back silently for a couple of seconds, before a mask of determination slips on. 

“Fine. If that’s what you fucking want,” Azzi sneers before brushing past her mom, eager to get away and hide her own tears. 

When Paige turns back around, Katie is already looking at her. The older woman walks the length of the room and pulls the younger girl into a hug that she readily melts into. Paige sniffles as Azzi’s mom soothingly rubs her back. 

“We’re driving back tomorrow morning,” Katie whispers quietly into Paige’s hair, “I know you’re mad sweetheart but come say goodbye okay?”

And she does. She shows up with only half an hour or so remaining before Azzi leaves, but Paige shows up. They hug stiffly, exchanging maybe a sentence or two but in that moment it’s enough. They’ll call later when Azzi gets home and it’ll be awkward for a little bit but they’ll break through. They’ll figure out a way to go on without having to talk about the “big thing”. They’ll hold on as long as they can, until they can’t anymore. 

***

September 2022

After the night Paige stays over at Azzi’s apartment, they're attached at the hip for the next few weeks, just like old times. They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. Azzi shows up without fail every day after practice to pick Paige up from her rehab, and then the rest of the younger girl’s time is Paige’s. The first time she’d seen the brunette leaning casually against her car, Paige had had to stop herself from jumping into her arms. She’d played it as nonchalant as possible, joking about Azzi being stalker, but inside, she could feel it again, the dangerously familiar tap of this is all I’ll ever need. 

On days Paige doesn’t have rehab, Azzi still shows up right on time on her doorstep with a board game or food or something.  It’s gotten to the point where every time the doorbell rings, Paige opens it expecting Azzi. The couple times it’s not, she tries and fails to hide the disappointment on her face. It earns her an eye roll from the delivery guy but it’s worth it for the laugh it elicits from Azzi when she tells her the story. They fall back together as if they’d never fallen apart. And what’s more terrifying than finding out that she’d never truly gotten over old Azzi, is realising how easy it would be to fall in love with new Azzi. 

When Caroline, Nika and Piath come to visit the weekend after, all three of them can immediately tell that something's changed. Their teammate seems lighter, as if she’s finally found a sense of calm. But their incessant prodding and raised eyebrows are only met with shrugs from a tight-lipped Paige. It isn’t until Azzi calls, and Nika snatches the phone out of Paige’s hands, gasping at the callerID, that they finally figure out why their point guard has a new kick in her step. 

“You should invite her out with us tonight,” Caroline is the first to speak, giving Paige an encouraging smile. 

“Carol,” Nika hisses, “we can’t just invite the enemy.”

“She’s not the enemy,” Paige defends immediately, “we don’t even have a rivalry with UCLA.”

Nika scoffs indignantly, “of course she is. She picked a different school over us. Over UConn! That’s weird. Who even does that?”

“Lots of people do,” Caroline, who occasionally texts Azzi (albeit she’s kept that somewhat of a secret), supplies helpfully, shrugging when the Croatian glares at her. 

Piath nudges Paige when she notices the other girl has gone quiet, “ignore Nika. She doesn’t mean it, you know that. If you wanna invite her, invite her.” 

And she does, she wants to so badly. It’s insane really because it hasn’t even been a full day since they’d last seen each other but Paige swears something inside her has been missing since. There’s something awfully terrifying about letting Azzi back into the UConn version of her world, the world that the younger girl had once rejected. Still, if they’re going to try this again, she supposes sooner or later, it’ll have to happen. 

“Put her on speaker,” Nika orders when Paige grabs her phone back from her. 

“Nika,” Caroline, younger only by age, warns, pulling the other girl away, “we’re supposed to be cheering her up, not making life harder.”

Azzi answers on the third ring, her voice teasing  “miss me already?”

Yes, Paige thinks, sometimes I think I miss you even when you’re right here next to me, sometimes I think I’ll miss you forever. But she doesn’t say any of that. 

“Not a chance,” she scoffs instead, “besides you called me first.”

“Butt dial.”

“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughs and Paige is glad her teammates aren’t here to see the goofy grin that appears on her face at the sound of it, “I just wanted to see if we were doing something tonight?”

“Yeah- umm- you remember I told you about the girls coming down this weekend. They- uh- they wanted to go out tonight and uh- you could come along?” 

There’s a pause on the other end and Paige knows Azzi’s going through the same thought process as her. 

“I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your team P-”

“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Paige cuts in immediately and although she figured her teammates were definitely eavesdropping, Nika cursing about her being “pussywhipped” followed by in-sync shushing from Piath and Caroline, gives them away. 

On the other end of the line, Azzi’s quiet again, “it’s okay P, you go have fun with your friends. We don’t have to spend every night together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

What she doesn’t say is that maybe they need to learn how to live like that again, how to live apart again. Paige is almost done with the LA part of her rehab, something both of them are still in denial about. It’s only a matter of time before they return back to their two separate worlds and neither of them are sure they’ve managed to repair their friendship enough to not slip back into their foolishness again. 

“But I wanna see you tonight,” Paige whines, her tone teetering on the edge of sounding like a desperate girlfriend, “please.”

“Paige-”

“Pleaseeeeeee. I’m literally injured and begging Az, it’d be mean to say no.”

“What does your injury even have to do with any of this?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, “but yeah okay fine calm down Bueckers. Send me an address, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t wanna come pregame here?” 

“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay see you,” Paige pauses, “hey Az?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really happy you’re coming tonight.”

“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”

***

Azzi Fudd is a menace. See, people often get fooled by her soft-spoken nature and shy demeanour, but Paige has been around her long enough to know the truth. In the beginning it was the witty quips the younger girl always had ready whenever they were having some ridiculous argument. After that, it was the direct pranks that wreaked havoc on Paige’s life. But tonight, in Paige’s opinion, tonight is Azzi’s worst offence. She had to have done it on purpose, had to have known the sheer effect it would have on Paige to see her dressed like that. The red criss-cross tank top fits her like a mould and the way her ripped jeans shorts cling to her hips leaves little to the imagination. Her diamond belly button piercing shines against her skin, taunting Paige. She wants to touch, she wants to feel, she wants to do all the unspeakable things in her mind but she’s forced to just watch. 

What she hates most though, is that everybody else is watching too. Since Azzi’s walked into the club, Paige has had to fight the urge to strangle every stranger who had given her best friend an appraising once-over. Some of them let their eyes linger long enough to give her time to plot out the perfect murder strategy (it’s the only way she can stop herself from actually committing a crime tonight). And, as Azzi dances with Caroline, hips swaying to the beat and holding the other girl a little closely, Paige has the irrational urge to hit sweet, kind Caroline of all people. 

The thing is, Azzi’s been a little too attached to Caroline since she got here in Paige’s opinion. And she gets it. Piath, bless her soul, is trying but has always been a little awkward around new people. Nika is definitely not trying, loyally holding onto a grudge on behalf of Paige. Which leaves Caroline, who’s already familiar territory and the younger girl has grasped onto her like a lifeline. But enough is enough Paige decides, as she slips out of her seat with a determined look. Smoothly, she cuts right in between Caroline and Azzi.

“Nika’s a little wasted and I don’t want to deal with,” it’s a blatant lie but Paige knows appealing to Caroline’s more motherly instincts will get her what she wants. She gets a raised eyebrow in return, her teammate clearly catching her ruse because Nika looks visibly fine. But it works anyway and Paige gets Azzi to herself. She reaches for the other girl’s hand, twirling her just so she can hear that stupid silly laugh, and then pulling her back so she’s facing Paige. 

“You having fun?” 

“Always have fun with you P,” Azzi replies. She’s clearly tipsy but there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. It makes Paige’s breath hitch. 

“Yeah?” she whispers, taking a step closer, “more than with Carol?”

Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”

The song in the club changes and as the crowd adjusts to it, someone jostles Azzi and immediately Paige grabs at her hips to steady her. As she finds her balance, Azzi’s giggles subside, realising just how close she is to the blonde now. They’re stuck in slow motion as the world dances around them. The combination of adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her veins is what convinces Paige to test the limits. One hand still squeezing at Azzi’s bare waist, revelling in finally getting to touch, she brings up her thumb to trace around Azzi’s lips. The younger girl gulps, but when she doesn’t try to move away, confidence pulses through Paige. Her heart is beating frantically out of her chest, years and years of want and need that she’d shoved as far away as possible, desperately fighting to get to the surface. 

Pushing herself closer, so their chests are now pressed to each other and Azzi’s hands have no choice but to latch onto her biceps, Paige places a delicate, teasing kiss to the corner of Azzi’s lips. She wishes she could record the whine it elicits and listen to it on loop for hours. Smirking, she moves to place another one on the other side, this time pressing her lips a little harder, a little longer. Azzi’s eyes are closed shut, hands gripping onto Paige so tightly, she knows there’ll be a mark on her biceps tomorrow. She cups Azzi’s face with both hands now, her own eyes shutting involuntarily, as she finally, finally brushes their lips together. 

This time, the strangled noise that leaves Azzi’s throat, is one Paige wishes she could forget as the younger girl rips herself away from Paige, the force of it creating almost a foot of distance between them. It doesn’t take long for the familiar sting of rejection to make itself home in her heart. Azzi’s eyes are brimming with tears as she manically shakes her head. Without a word, she rushes through the crowd, making a beeline for the exit, leaving Paige confused and craving for another taste. 

***

It takes Paige a second to gather her thoughts before following the brunette. She ignores the confused glances from her teammates, making some bullshit excuse about fresh air as she fights her way outside. When she gets there, Azzi’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed as she takes in long deep breaths. 

“That’s not usually how girls react when I try to kiss them,” Paige says after a second, trying to make light of the situation, even if her heart is heavy with anxiety. 

It’s the wrong thing to say because Azzi scoffs, “you kiss a lot of girls don’t you.”

“Yeah and most of them kiss me back,” Paige bites back. 

She’s taken aback by the fire in the darker-skinned girl’s eyes as Azzi finally opens them, heaving herself off the wall. 

“I won’t be one of your groupies Paige. I won’t be one of your desperate one night stands. I won’t be just some other hookup. I won’t!”

Frankly she’s a little offended Azzi would even think that of her. She’s aware of her reputation. In fact she’d probably fed into it a little bit, exaggerating her escapades to Azzi on the phone her freshman year, when they had been on the verge of combusing and she’d been desperate to get a rise out of the younger girl. Last year though, last year was different. But Azzi doesn’t know that. 

“I don’t want you to be any of that,” she replies feebly. 

“Then what, do you want me to be?” Azzi’s voice rises with each syllable. 

Paige stutters, the words getting stuck in her throat. The truth is she wants Azzi to be everything. The truth is, Azzi already is everything. Except there’s too much between them and she just can’t say it. They stand in silence until Azzi finally breaks it.

“I think these last few weeks of summer might have been the best of my life,” she says miserably, “and that might be the worst thing ever you know? Because it’s not real. You’re gonna go back to your world and you’ll- you’ll stop replying to my texts and you’ll stop- you’ll stop calling me and I- I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making about me,” Paige is on defensive mode now, feeling a fight brewing. 

“Because that’s what happened. Go back through your fucking phone Paige. Look at all the times I tried. And all the times you never did. You just- you cut me out Paige.”

“That’s not fair. You chose fucking UCLA. Over me.”

“No,” Azzi corrects immediately, anger seeping into her tone, “I chose UCLA over UConn. You made it about yourself.”

Paige swallows back a bitter response in favour of trying to prevent a full-fledged argument, “okay, okay let’s not- let’s not do this okay. It’ll be better this time- I- I won’t ignore your calls or texts or you okay? Just- can we just go back inside please?”

“That’s the thing,” Azzi’s anger is gone, replaced by a sad wistful smile, “I don’t know if I believe that you will,” a single tear rolls down her cheek, “I- I don’t fully trust you and you haven’t fully forgiven me. So where do we go from here?”

It’s a lie what they say about the truth setting you free, Paige thinks as Azzi’s words squeeze at her heart, because all it’s done is unleash shackles of despair that holds them both hostage. It had been easy the last couple of weeks, to pretend the last year had never happened. It had been easy for Paige to pretend that she was over what happened, to ignore the part of her brain that still felt so utterly betrayed. 

“Azzi, what are you saying? You don’t- you don’t wanna be friends?” Paige feels nauseous even saying it. 

“No I-” Azzi chews at her bottom lip, “I’m saying this- us- we’re too fragile to complicate even more. I barely- fuck- Paige, I barely survived losing my best friend. I don’t think I could survive losing something more.” 

The worst thing about it all, is that it makes sense. And really, Paige doesn’t know what she’d expected to happen if Azzi hadn’t pulled away when she did. They’d kiss, maybe give in and do more and then what? Shake hands and walk away? Or make false promises that would ultimately lead to resentment? No, Years and years of something deserved better than either of those masochistic endings. It makes sense, it does but it doesn’t mean Paige has to like it. 

In front of her, all the fight evaporates from Azzi’s body, as the younger girl leans back against the brick wall of the club, sliding down and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks every bit as miserable as Paige feels and all the blonde wants to do is wipe away the stress lines creasing against the younger girl’s beautiful phase. She moves to sit down next to her best friend, shuffling so their shoulders are pressed together and intertwines their fingers together. A sigh of relief escapes her when Azzi doesn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she squeezes their hands tighter, as if she’s scared that if she lets go, Paige will disappear. 

“You didn’t lose me you know,” Paige says softly after a second, nudging Azzi’s shoulder when the other girl lets out a noise of protest, “I know, I know it feels like you did. It felt like that to me too except- every time something good or bad happened to me, I heard your voice or- or maybe I just really wanted too. We got lost a little bit but I didn’t- I didn’t lose you and you didn’t lose me. There’s a difference. I don’t think we could ever lose each other like that. Not really.”

When Azzi turns to look at her, the golden glow of the street lights illuminate the emotions in her eyes. She gives Paige a soft smile, “well Bueckers, if basketball doesn’t work out, maybe you have a future in poetry.”

“I could do whatever I wanted,” except what I want to do the most. 

It doesn’t take long for the Uber Azzi’s already called to start pulling up and that familiar ache of longing creeps into Paige’s spine. She knows tonight isn’t their final goodbye; they still have a couple more days. But those days will be spent ignoring and pretending, unlike tonight and the firm grip they have on reality. They rise off of the cold pavement together, dusting themselves off. It takes a second of awkward glances before they’re surging into each other’s arms, squeezing each other so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. Paige wills herself not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck. 

“We’ll be okay,” she whispers, unsure if it’s more for her benefit or Azzi’s. 

The unwanted beep of a car is the only reason they reluctantly pull away, hurriedly wiping away unshed tears, they pretend the other can’t see. Azzi musters up a brave smile, before slowly moving away and it takes everything in Paige not to crumble and begs her to stay. Azzi’s halfway to the car when she turns back and it feels like Paige can breathe again. The brunette’s face is conflicted for a second before turning determined, as she starts walking back up. 

“Az-”

Paige’s confusion is stifled as Azzi fists her shirt, pulling her into a searing kiss. It’s desperate and needy and it’s only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl is pulling away again, but it sets Paige’s entire world off balance. 

“I just-” Azzi’s breathing is rapid and uneven, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen and- just- fuck- I just-,” she blinks up at Paige, “I hate- I hate leaving things unfinished and for fucks sake if you don’t call me back this time Bueckers- just- don’t be a stranger.”

Paige doesn’t get time to answer, she doesn’t think she could even if she did, because Azzi scurries away almost immediately. She stops when she gets to the car, turning back to give Paige one final look, a look that will haunt Paige forever, before getting into the backseat. As Paige watches the back of Azzi’s uber gets smaller and smaller, her tongue darts across her lips as she tries to memorise the faintest taste of Azzi’s strawberry-flavoured lipstick. And she knows, she’s so utterly and completely and terribly fucked.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

[faux-ecrivain]

Yan reader

(Sixth official post)

(Name is Luis)

(This one is more of a subtle yandere, the yandere is devoted to you, but doesn’t kidnap you.)

Yan reader that absolutely adores your works, he looks forward to each new book you publish. 

Yan reader who is always at your meet and greets, your signings and has seen every interview, show or movie you’ve been in/written. But what he adores most of all is the books you write.

Yan reader that believes each book you write is written for him. He knows that’s not true, yet he can’t help but hope.

Yan reader that squeals when you address him (he chooses to ignore the confused expression on your face)

Yan reader who rambles on and on when you speak to him. He fawns over you and, despite the bodyguards intervening, tries to hug you. Unfortunately he does succeed and you are then trapped in his hold. (Luckily the guards pull him off)

“Oooh~ Beloved writer, I’m your biggest fan! I’ve read every book, I’ve watched all your movies and even those boring interviews you got stuck in!” He squeezes you tightly, his arms wound around you like a python. The guards struggle when removing him, as Luis is deceptively strong. (Despite his weak appearance) 

Yan reader who fights to get back in yours arms and when he eventually does get back in yours arms, it’s because he caught you at a vulnerable time and just so happened to be passing by your house (he says he accidentally ended up in your garden)

Yan reader who’s obsessed with you and shows it, he has no shame. He sends you gifts (despite you not wanting them)

Yan reader who plans your life together. (He has entire journals dedicated to you)

Yan reader who stalks you online and in real life. He takes photos of you (though they aren’t very good) and likes every post you make. He’s dedicated to you and he wants the whole world to know it.

Yan reader who so desperately wants to kidnap you and keep you to yourself, but he knows he can’t do that. He can’t bring himself to drag you from the love and adoration you deserve. So he’ll simply admire you from afar and one day, when you no longer crave the spotlight, he’ll take you home and treat you like the wonderful person you are.

(Enjoy this post, I think this might be only post I’m posting today. But, if I’m feeling it I might make another post.)

MADE THURSDAY DECEMBER 7, 2023

#Sixth official post #yandere x reader #yandere oc #my writing #enjoy this short fanfic! #Sorry if this one is a bit wonky #I had some issues writing it #Luis my oc

[herslvt]

K-pop Soft Thoughts with Ateez Maknae Line

From a black female writer-

My men 🤭 anyway enjoy there are no warnings unless you think Jasmine is better than Rapunzel…then we got a problem.

Hyung version

ATEEZ members who spoil the literal hell out of you and treat you like a princess in their own individual ways, but this time featuring the sassy members because they’re princesses too and you can’t say otherwise!

San! Who loves to feed you not in a teasing way, but in an ‘I love you and I want the best for you’ type way. You’ll just be sitting on the couch minding your business and he’ll come up to you, favorite snack in hand and feed you. He knows he doesn’t have too but he wants too so he does.

San! Who adores you so much you’re glued at the hip, and when you’re not glued at the hip he’s got you on FaceTime because in his words he can’t breath if you’re not there, when you two are together he’ll wrap you in his arms and continue to complain about you not being close enough. If he could have you under his skin he would which is insane because you and him both know he’ll be fine but he just has to be a little dramatic first. (I love pushing the clingy Ateez agenda)

Mingi! Who once dedicated a song to you, but it made him so shy he refused to tell you about it for months. When he finally let you listen to it, he wasn’t expecting much of a reaction from you but you ended up breaking down in tears which then led to him doing the same. He wasn’t expecting you to like it but you did and he was happy.

Mingi! Who literally gets shy when you call him princess minki as a joke. He’s so used to Atiny and the members doing it to tease him so when you did it for the first time he was definitely flustered. He wouldn’t admit it but he thought it was adorable how you addressed him in that way every time he entered a room you were in. Regardless though, you were his baby and he wouldn’t let you forget that even if you called him princess for fun,

Wooyoung! Who debates with you on who the best Disney princesses are but ultimately gives into your opinion because he loves you (you threatened him) even then he still will refuse to admit Rapunzel was better than Jasmine but you let it slide just for now. He did agree with you that Mulan and Tiana were number 1 so you gave him the benefit of the doubt. (Bro I feel like all of them would do this at some point, just sit and argue w you over Disney movies and stuff)

Wooyoung! Who accidentally on purpose buys two of everything or always orders extra of whatever. He just got a new jacket? Just so happens they sent him an extra. He got food? Suddenly he ate earlier and isn’t as hungry. You know he’s doing it on purpose, but you won’t acknowledge it. He wants you to have whatever he has and if that means buying everything for two he doesn’t mind, though he knows you’ll just complain about his being better anyway. (Strong believer that Jongho would do the same.)

Jongho! Who will sing you to sleep. You beg him to sing to you and he always refuses, but when he knows your drifting off to sleep and barely still in this world he’ll sing a song that you love to relax you and as much as he refuses to admit it he enjoys it. The way he can feel you relaxing in his arms when he starts softly singing melts his heart.

Jongho! Who cherishes his time with you so much he has to take a picture whenever you’re together. Though they never leave the confines of his gallery, he likes looking at them when you’re not around. He has pictures of you doing any and everything, you in the kitchen looking for food, you walking back to the couch to sit down. He doesn’t care what you’re doing, the more domestic the better. You’re his home though he’d never admit it. You don’t even know to the extent of his picture taking goes. He even has a picture of you scratching an itch and he absolutely does not care.

#ateez #ateez fluff #ateez soft hours #ateez fic #ateez x black reader #ateez mingi #ateez san #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez headcanons #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #mingi x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #K-pop x black reader

[morganbritton132]

how do people react to eddie's tiktok about the threats to steve? obviously a lot of people would be horrified and support eddie, but do you think anyone would be mad at him for cancelling so last minute? and what do eddie and steve do about the threats?

There’s a wide variety of reactions, but there’s a lot of support.

The other members of Corroded Coffin were among the first and the loudest to give their support to Eddie. It’s not just that Eddie won’t be in attendance at their meet-and-greet or that he won’t play the show, the whole band cancels. They do this together or not at all. When you attack one of them, you attack all of them and Steve is one of them.

There are celebrities and influencers that come out in support and talk about their experience with hate mail and pushy fans, and some even talk about how their significant other were bullied off social media by fans. And there are fans that give their support.

Eddie doesn’t give a ton of information about what kind of threats they’re getting, but he gives enough to put the pieces together that it’s Steve getting them. A lot of Eddie’s fans remember the video of Steve crying at the neurologist and they feel protective of him. That was such an invasion of privacy and to have someone threatening you on top of that, it’s just too much.

Fans post videos on Tiktok and Youtube, and they make Twitter threads about toxic fandoms and toxic fans, and they talk about how Steve is just a normal guy that didn’t sign up for any of this. Quite literally. He doesn’t even have a Tiktok account. He’s not posting the videos he’s in.

And of course, there are people who are pissed off and there are people that understand but are disappointed. They feel like they’re being punished for someone else’s actions and they make videos about it, and Eddie responds.

He asks, “Tell me how you make yourself leave town when you don’t know if someone is going to try to kill your loved ones? Make that make sense to me.”

He responds to another Tiktok saying, “He didn’t even tell me. He’s been suffering through this shit on his own for months because he didn’t want me to lose this. He didn’t want me to lose Tiktok or concerts, or having a good experience with fans. He didn’t want to ruin that, and some – fucking asshole thought that there was something so egregiously wrong with someone as loving and caring as that, that they wrote a fucking letter to a middle school about how he should kill himself.”

Eddie responds to another, “All of this because he – he – he what? He turned my music down in the car? He doesn’t go to all my shows or – or because he didn’t want to go on a date once after he has a seizure? Sorry that the guy with the fucking head injury sometimes has the symptoms of a fucking head injury.”

Eddie responds, “During the worst time of my life, he saved me. He didn’t even know me, but he saved me and he never expected anything in return, and I can’t even make this better for him. I don’t know how.”

Steve doesn’t want to do anything about the letters that Eddie taped back together. He doesn’t want to take them to the police where they’ll tell them that there’s nothing they can do about it. He doesn’t want to hire a bodyguard or get a new security system, and he doesn’t want to move. He already got kicked out of one house, he’s not letting someone else kick him out of this one.

Steve doesn’t want to do anything, but Eddie can’t do nothing so he goes to the police. He’s famous now – a lot more famous than he was the last time he dealt with the Chicago PD – and they’re helpful. The woman he talks to is sympathetic, though there isn’t much they can do without any identifying marks. There’s no name, no return address, nothing that would lead them to the writer.

But they take his name and make copies of the letters, and they open a file.

It’s not a lot, but it’s enough for Eddie not feel so useless. 

#honestly I don’t really know what you do in this kind of situation #I got another ask similar to this that I’m going to try to respond to tomorrow #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

[em-dash-press]

The Biggest Differences Between Points of View

Sometimes stories flow from our minds. They jump onto paper when we channel our creativity, announcing themselves without plans or outlines. Other times, we have to make specific choices before putting pen to paper. Picking between the different points of view is one of them.

These are the biggest differences you should know about to choose the best POV for your next manuscript.

First-Person Point of View

First-person point of view happens when a protagonist tells the story from their perspective. It focuses on their experiences and understanding of things, while leaving out the direct input of other characters.

First-person POV uses “I” or “we”

It lets the reader in on the protagonist’s thoughts and feelings

It sticks with the protagonist’s understanding, opening the possibility for an unreliable narrator or plot twists as your protagonist learns new information later.

Second-Person Point of View

Second-person point of view happens when the author addresses the reader through their narrator. It brings the reader directly into the story and occurs less frequently in fiction manuscripts because readers generally want to experience stories, not feel involved.

Second-person POV uses “you” to address the reader.

It talks to the reader directly, like: “You sat in the room and listened to your brother talk.”

It doesn’t appear in fiction very often because readers don’t want to be actively involved in fiction novels. They also haven’t experienced the story.

You may only use this POV if you write fanfiction that purposefully involves the reader.

Third-Person Point of View

Third-person point of view happens when the narrator isn’t involved in the story. It includes pronouns like “he,” “she,” and “they” to describe characters. Writers use this to provide objective narration or an outside perspective so readers never fully understand what goes on in a character’s mind until the character or plot reveals it.

This POV also has three types:

Third-person omniscient: The narrator knows each character’s thoughts and feelings. People often relate this to the narrator being a god figure because they’re all-knowing.

Third-person objective: The narrator uses third-person pronouns, but doesn’t access the characters’ thoughts and feelings. The reader gets an objective view of the plot while the characters' outward words and actions further the emotional undertones.

Third-person limited omniscient: The narrator knows each character’s thoughts and feelings, but spends most of the time with the protagonist. The author has more choice over which character’s inner workings get revealed and at what time.

Point of View FAQs

What does point of view mean?

Point of view describes how a writer tells their story. All three offer different strengths and weaknesses, depending on the story you want to write.

What is an example of writing from an unusual point of view?

Writing from the second-person point of view would be most unusual in a traditional fiction story setting. Readers don’t pick up books to get themselves personally involved in the plot. It works better in fanfiction settings.

How do you pick a point of view?

You can pick a point of view for your story by going with your gut or reviewing the purpose of your plot. Sometimes stories have obvious perspectives, so we know how it’s going to translate on paper.

Other times, writers have to consider what they’re about to write. A manuscript that needs an unreliable narrator to deliver key plot twists might go with first-person POV or third-person limited-omniscient POV.

If you’re writing a story that jumps perspectives between more than one character, third-person POV could provide the omniscient tools you need to convey each different mindset clearly. You could also use a limited-omniscient point of view to jump mindsets while staying just within each narrator’s mind. The other characters around them would have minds that are off-limits to the narrator.

You don’t need to pick one point of view and never stray from it. If it feels wrong while you’re writing, edit what you’ve already written to morph it into another POV. Writers do this all the time. It’s one of the creative freedoms you have in your writing practice.

-----

Try not to stress too much about memorizing the different types of point-of-view or picking one for your next manuscript. You can always switch POVs by reworking your draft if you need to. They’re all great options. It just depends on what you’re writing, the plot elements that are most essential to your story, and what experience you want to create for the reader.

#point of view #writing point of view #pov #writeblr #writing advice #writing tips #writers of tumblr #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing #writing community #writing help #writing resources

[gentaro-kinniecom]

『Best friends to lovers trope + first kiss』

Characters: Souma Kanzaki, Yuta Aoi, Suou Tsukasa, Himeru, Kohaku Oukawa, Kanata Shinkai, Arashi Narukami, Hiyori Tomoe, Ritsu Sakuma and Ibara Saegusa.

C/w: fluff, jealousy (?), somewhat angst depending on some parts like (i can’t really specify since it’s up to the readers pov 🥲) , long post ?? (Ten characters meaning more scrolling if you see it that way?), Madara’s a chismoso in Kohaku’s part (snitch; I swear he did it cause Kohaku wasn’t making a move LMAO) it’s just cute and kisses rahh i love fluff (not proofread my bad) [WHY IS HIYORI’S PART SO LONG HELLO im not biased i swear] ugly cried making Ritsu’s part help. 3.5k words woah-

A/n: hello everyone :3 first off I wanna say tysm for the support in my last post!! I didn’t think it a lot of people would like it but im glad you guys enjoyed it, it made my day seeing all the support <3! And second, I’m working on those requests I PROMISEE (atp spam me to motivate me pls /hj), and I will be posting the remaining parts of the series “Kissing/Making out + hcs” soon as well, writers block really is making me not post 😭 but anyways!! Hope y’all enjoy this super cute trope >:3

Souma Kanzaki✰

Your absolute best friend in the marine bio club, he loves researching about cute creatures and taking care of them too!! Souma isn’t really focused on romance, he’s really glad to have found friends like you and Adonis. But, why was he feeling some sort of way around you? Your smile was so soft, he felt his heart beat at the thought of it, and how warm your personality was with him. He was scared to even confess because you’ve been such a good friend to him that he really doesn’t want to ruin that friendship.

But its not like you have hinted anything towards him. It’s always been Adonis or Kanata, hell, even Kaoru, he wants you to look at him for once, just once and say you love him. Souma started to doubt whether or not to tell you, when suddenly as he opened his locker, saw an envelope with your name in it, addressed to him. He decided on going to the place you mentioned in your letter, seeing you there with a smile.

“Y/n…do you feel what I feel? I really enjoy your presence, but I can’t help but feel I want to be more than your friend, perhaps a partner? If you want to stay as friends then I understand-“

With that, you kissed him, he felt like his world was just surrounded by you and just you both. As you parted away, Souma blushed a bit, smiling brightly but slightly embarrassed as you spoke

“I love you too Souma, I’ve been waiting to say those words to you”

Yuta Aoi✰

Let’s face it, you’re friends with Yuta and best friends with Hinata. He hates feeling like a second option towards you when Hinata isn’t there. Of course, you share moments like any good friend would, talking and spending time together. But it was all about Hinata; Hinata this, Hinata that. Yuta started growing feelings of jealousy for a while, but he couldn’t just go to his brothers best friend and admit of their crush, opening his heart out there and waiting for it to be held or acepted, anything but crushed.

Yuta knew he had to act one day or another, it can’t stay like this when you’re just there, being so kind to him even if he felt like a filler for when Hinata wasn’t there. Until one day, his brother found out about his crush, and promised him that he wasn’t interested in you, after all, Hinata felt like you were the sister they never had. After that day, Yuta saw things clearly, not blinded by the silly jealousy towards his brother and now focusing on winning your heart. Eventually, he invited you out to hang out together, which could be considered a date but he liked saying they were only going out as friends. Right after ending the date, Yuta held your hands softly, sighing before speaking.

“So, I wanna thank you for accepting my invite um to go out..but I also want to say something important-“

You cut him off by kissing him, he stood still, a bit in shock while his heart felt like it was about to burst.

“I like you too Yuta..sorry if I made you feel in any way less than your brother, you’re very important to me, you both are”

Suou Tsukasa✰

Your friendship began with your father’s company partnering up with Tsukasa’s. You both instantly clicked having somewhat same interests, going to cafe’s around japan whenever your families traveled to other cities. Suou loves going to Yumenosaki Academy with you, it’s a routine going in and out and after school, taking you to the sweet fan club. It’s no surprise when the members of the club ask if you’re dating, to which Suou just blushes and denies it. Perhaps he was developing feelings for you?

No it couldn’t be, you were his best friend, and childhood one too. Kohaku had seen Suou doubtful at times and comforted him, encouraging his cousin to give it a try if he truly loved you. Even if things wouldn’t be the same after, Suou was really going to give this a try. The following days consisted of him acting more affectionate and close with you, gifting you small things like your favorite sweets even jewelry as well. To the point where you confronted him about all the sudden coddling.

“Okay Suou listen I appreciate the gifts and the kindness, but..is there a reason why you’re doing this? I mean- wait, you’re definitely hidding something right? Come on I know you and I’ve done so my entire life, it can’t be that bad-“

Suou leaned forward, kissing you softly as he had felt brave in that moment, soon pulling away muttering a small apology as he sighed

“I-I’m sorry, I really love your company and your sweet personality, you’ve showed me how to love and feel loved. I truly hope you feel the same as I do”

Himeru✰

After the incident regarding his brother, Kaname, Himeru learned everything about his brother. People didn’t find him strange, or acting weird when referring to himself in third person, after all Himeru knew how to blend in well with the crowd. Except for one person, you. Knowing Kaname well had it’s things, like predicting what things he wanted to do or talk about in the moment, even sharing class schedules with each other, so you knew he was not Kaname, but instead his brother who he had mentioned briefly before Himeru had come in as ‘him’. Still, Himeru had that side of him that made you look at him in another light.

Of course, he was portraying as his brother but, something about Himeru was just so different, he was more mature, rationalized everything and serious in a way that made you like him? He was kind and gentle with you, almost sickening, but in a good way. A year passed by and Himeru invited you to see his brother, how the incident had left him in a state of coma, tears were shed that day, and a lot. But you knew how much trust and care he had in you. So when he pulled you aside as you walked towards the place he’d ask you to meet him at, you weren’t surprised at what he said.

“Himeru hopes this is enough appropriate to aproach you this way. Himeru asked for you to meet him here, Himeru is thankful for that…would you be willing to give Himeru the opportunity to show you how much ‘I’ love you?”

You smiled, one he loved seeing so frequently. He placed his arms around you in a comforting way, kissing you softly while smiling

“Yes Himeru, I love you, not because you’re ‘impersonating’ your brother but, because i fell in love with the real you, the real Himeru thats under that façade”

Kohaku Oukawa✰

Being part of whatever Madara dragged him into, wasn’t easy, especially with making acquaintances rather than his unit mates and Madara himself, not to mention his cousin Suou who is somewhat friends with you. He can’t even recall the time you both met, perhaps his cousin introduced you or he had seen you around the Reimei dormitories. Even if Kohaku didn’t attend school, he looked forward in meeting you in the hallways of the dorms. His conversations being short and direct but well mannered, he seemed to have taken a liking to you.

Or more like a slight fling of trust towards you since you knew his cousin and friends well. It wasn’t like him when he offered you to join him and share some of his favorite sweets or chatting online when you didn’t have time to hang out, always ending up with photos of Kohaku and the thing he was so busy at. Sometimes it would be photos of him at the practice studio or helping Madara out with something, they were really cute, but he didn’t have to know that, right? Then he suggested you both went out, taking you to his favorite shops and cafe’s filled with pastries from around the world, sharing a bite of the (favorite pastry) you were eating as he spoke, now having the opportunity to do so since you were both in a much more secluded area.

“Hey so..would it be alright if I..confessed? Okay no I’m not gonna beat around the bush, I like you, a lot. I talked this with Madara and he said i should tell you since honesty is important and”

He stopped, looking at you briefly after you had kissed him momentarily on the lips, he stared for a bit before snapping back into reality, coughing a bit as he averted his eyes across the room, trying to hide the embarrassment he felt because you liked him back and kissed him, even though he wanted to do so first

“Perhaps a little birdy might’ve told me something like that before…however the answer is still the same, I like you too Kohaku, thank you for being honest, I really like that about you too”

“HE WHAT-“

Kanata Shinakai✰

You both met thanks to Madara and Ryuusetai. Since you worked with Madara on some missions, you actually knew Kanata when he was proclaimed to be a ‘god’. The shinkai cult was a very harsh one but, after Madara had saved Kanata, he was in your ‘debt’. But it never felt that way to either of you, Kanata is your best friend, one that always drags you towards any nearby water or anything you both enjoy. He really likes spending time with you and will not back off if you tell him he’s “too clingy”. People always say you were like platonic soulmates, but you’d always denied it with a small blush on your face.

However, feelings started to develop when he would always go towards you in need of help or advice, even saying good morning before anyone else, you were first and it made you feel something whenever he smiled at you or dragged you into the cold water of the fountain. Kaoru was the first to notice your feelings whenever you came by the marine bio club, cheeks a bit pink as Kanata hugged you. It was kinda obvious of how much you liked each other but were oblivious to it. Till one day, he invited you out to meet him in one of his favorite spots, laying out a blanket with some of your favorite snacks, looking at the ocean in front of you as he held your hand under the afternoon sun.

“I think I’m developing ‘feelings’ for you~ Y/n~, do you ‘like’ me too~?”

Smiling, he knew to take that as a sign to kiss you, his lips soft against yours as you parted away slowly, taking the time to admire his features and how the wind moved his hair slightly

“I love you Kanata, it feels like we’re destined to be with one another”

Arashi Narukami✰

The cool stylish best friend you were so proud to have. Arashi knew the best skin care products and even gave you tips from time to time. She was the best to go to if you had any problems about anything. You both met at one of her regular make up stores to go to in the daily, she just so happened to love your fit and exchanged numbers. Arashi invites you to a couple of her shootings sometimes, looking your way when she’s posing or winking and the staff is quite positive that you’re dating each other. To which Arashi has no objection to but you’re almost sure she’s teasing you.

Besides you both have been friends for a couple of years, it’s nothing serious…or so you thought. Arashi had arranged a dinner after her regular model shootings and invited you, alone. Which caused some doubts because she would normally invite the rest of the Knights with you to eat together, especially for dinner. Upon entering the restaurant, placing your orders and sitting down, Arashi took out what seemed to be a box, you almost thought she was asking you to marry her but as she opened it, there were two rings, almost equal, she smiled and seemed a bit bashful as she spoke.

“You know I’m not really used to any of this but, I like you Y/n, I saw these rings and thought why not use them as promise rings? I hope you like it~!”

You smiled and held her hand as she kissed your cheek softly, then moving to kiss your lips briefly. Arashi then placed the ring on your finger as you did to her’s too. Many people thought it was an engagement and congratulated you both, even if it wasn’t, you ended up getting free dessert and a wonderful time with her

“I like you too Arashi! What just happened feels like something out of a fairytale, it was so romantic, thank you for the wonderful time~!”

Hiyori Tomoe✰

Your 'archnemesis’ that turned into your best friend. Hiyori really didn’t get along well with you, especially when you hanged around with Jun most of the time, talking about similar interests as he watched you both from the sidelines while he waited for Jun to finish his conversation. It wasn’t fair whenever Jun opt to spend more time with you rather than him and his dog Bloody Mary. However one time, Jun went off with Makoto, leaving you alone with Hiyori and his dog, he then realized how kind you were with everything, especially Bloody Mary. After that day you both became the most inseparable of friends. Always giving you tips on your wardrobe and going out to get lunch or a cup of coffee to start the day. When he invited you to his concerts and events, you were always there, first row cheering him on as he looked at you from the stage. Something about seeing you so cheery in the crowd made his heart flutter, he felt so loved and cherished by his best friend.

Although he wouldn’t consider that anymore, it had developed into a crush throughout the weeks, leaning into your touch more as you both linked arms or his arm around your shoulder. He trusted you with some of his worries and inquires, always looking forward to your advice whenever he felt down or lost. He eventually ranted towards Nagisa and Bloody Mary, to which Nagisa pretty much replied with “be honest with them, you never know unless you say something”. Nagisa was right, he had to do whatever it took to say how he was feeling and Hiyori wasn’t backing down on this. It was when he had the idea to confess after one of his concerts with Eve, after briefly finishing and the majority of the people had left, he requested for your presence in his dressing room, escorted by one of the bodyguards Ibara had hired for the concert. Soon entering his dressing room and seeing flowers everywhere, even a small rose petal line leading directly towards Hiyori as he smiled and held a beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Hiyori! Wow it’s so beautiful..but, why all this commotion? I mean I love it but-“

You felt his lips against yours briefly, a soft giggle leaving his lips as he leaned towards you once more, catching you by surprise again

“My dearest Y/n! I must admit you’ve caught my eye, and I have developed feelings for you, I hope you truly feel the same”

Ritsu Sakuma✰

Ritsu had admired you from afar for quite some time now, noticing how happy you were with his brother and unit, too busy to even notice his presence whenever he was sleeping nearby, but that all changed once his brother had invited you over to dinner at their home. That’s how the friendship became to grow, you both shared similar tastes, music and even things like sleeping. He was your best friend since then and has been for a couple of months. Unfortunately, since he still holds a grudge against his brother Rei, you were kinda forced to choose between them, although not necessarily since you’d seen Rei almost everyday and Ritsu too, separated from each other. He opened himself up to you, telling Y/n how he felt like his brother had abandoned him at one point and how he didn’t want to feel that ever again, to which you had promised to stay by his side no matter what.

Soon, friendly cuddles were a thing under his favorite spot at the garden before going to the tea club. It felt like a routine; waking up, going to school, spending time with Ritsu and so on. Whenever he saw you with his brother, he really wasn’t jealous, just annoyed and bothered at the sight of Rei touching your arm slightly, whenever that happened he always approached you and placed his arm linked with yours as he waited for you both to finish said conversation. Feelings started to grow when he saw you waking up from one of your usual naps together, the way you slowly opened your eyes and how the sun softly graced your face, you looked like a sleeping angel, quite literally. He took it upon himself to confess the very day you both graduated, the last time you would’ve seen each other if it weren’t for his plans. Ritsu had pulled you aside, taking you to your usual spot as you both smile, a bit tearful at the sight of not being able to come back and share moments with each other but that’s when Ritsu held your hand softly

“Y/n..I want to apologize for how late this confession came to be but..I love you, I don’t want to let go of you just yet, or ever..please stay with me”

Ritsu asked as you smiled, his hands now on your cheeks as you pulled him in for a kiss, it felt so right to share such intimate moment with your now lover as he pulled back, looking at you dumbfounded for a moment as you spoke

“I love you more Ritsu~ I can’t wait to find more spots under trees so we can spend all the time in the world cuddling together”

Ibara Saegusa✰

The protective best friend who doesn’t like anyone coming near you. He’s always been like that, since day one of your friendship. Ibara at first offered you to work with him since the job was open to be his assistant. Then it turned into late night talks and drinking some coffee in the morning before attending to important stuff that he realized he had actually found a friend for the first time in ever. Apart from Eden and Adam if that counts, he really felt at ease around you. His work became less heavy and less dull, thanks to the help of a kind friend like you and the company he had every day, he seemed to be in a better mood each week. In business meetings or Eden/Adam practices, he’s always keeping an eye on you, if anyone makes you uncomfortable or your well-being overall. Even attending his lectures, he felt happy seeing you taking notes and being so attentive when he told his speeches.

It’s so weird seeing that he prioritizes your friendship over his work a few times like taking you to lunch or spending time doing whatever you both want. It caused some curiosity between the members of Eden since Ibara would always be swarming in work and the progress of their units. They sincerely have to thank you for letting him see his soft spot, his sweet side to all that workaholic Ibara. It was quite refreshing to be honest, seeing him so at ease and the strees and burden from over the years were at much calm now beside you. It was love, he couldn’t imagine a life without you, Ibara imagined the day where he would wake up beside you, smiling softly as he kissed you so dearly in the morning. He thought that those “daydreams” of you both spending time together was normal, but he was just really catching feelings. After a long time of consideration, he decided to take you out to a very exclusive dinner, one which the entire restaurant was worth more than the entire ensemble square. He sat in front of you, letting you choose a variety of dishes before grabbing your hand and speaking

“I’ll keep this short and simple, I really love your company, and I can’t help but wish more of it, more of your touch..if you catch what I mean..please don’t keep me waiting, the thought of being rejected is harsh but I’d rather know that- mmmphf-!”

He felt himself turn red, cheeks flaired with a pink hue as he felt your lips against his, his face was priceless. Chapped but so soft against yours, he didn’t want to let go, even for a catch of air, however when you did, your hands linked as you smiled

“I love you as well Ibara, don’t stress over something that was already expected from the both of us~”

#ensemble stars x reader #ensemble stars #souma kanzaki x reader #souma kanzaki #yuta aoi x reader #yuta aoi #suou tsukasa x reader #suou tsukasa #himeru x reader #himeru #kohaku oukawa x reader #kohaku oukawa #kanata shinkai x reader #kanata shinkai #arashi narukami x reader #arashi narukami #hiyori tomoe x reader #hiyori tomoe #ritsu sakuma x reader #ritsu sakuma #ibara saegusa x reader #ibara saegusa #im still sobbing btw

[belovedmusings]

More than I dare to think about.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫

Part two of the ‘Two + One’ story. Click for story masterlist.

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and you’ve been together for a year. He recently left his previous band and has been looking to join a new one, so when he has an audition with a local up and coming one, you accompany him to give him support. That’s where you meet the band’s Bassist, Suguru Geto. The mutual attraction is immediate—but you love your boyfriend, and you resolve to keep your desires for Suguru suppressed, even as Choso is accepted into the bad. The question is, can Suguru stay away from you?

Relevant tags: sexual tension, love triangle, slow burn, thoughts of infidelity, guilt, unprotected sex, mild choking, masturbation, shy and nervous Choso, Choso is a sweetheart as always, Suguru is a quiet and confident flirt, both men are charming as hell, you are addressed without the usage of “y/n”, AFAB reader with minimal usage of gendered language, reader has no defining characteristics for realism & inclusivity

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: Can’t Get You out of My Head (Kylie Minogue), …baby one more time (The Marias), In Your Eyes (The Weeknd)

A/N: part two is out!! I hope you enjoy more angsty mutual pining and deepened sexual tension.

Read below cut:

For two weeks after the temporary lapse in judgment that caused you to have a voyeuristic quickie in your car, things have returned to normal. Well, on the surface, anyway. Choso is with the band five days a week, rehearsing and also writing and recording new music. You haven’t been back to Suguru’s house, but despite that, you can’t seem to get him out of your head.

You hadn’t known Suguru was the frontman of Curse Manipulator. You’d never even seen any of the band members prior to meeting them—they were just word-of-mouth stars on the local level. Friends told friends about them, shared their music, and that’s how you and Choso had found a few of their songs that you both like.

With Choso busy with the band, you’re left to your own devices a lot. Curiosity gets the better of you quickly and you deep-dive Curse Manipulator’s discography. Their music is a perfect blend of alternative rock and a plethora of other styles on top—it’s unique and genuinely really good. The lyrics are great, too. Deep and meaningful, loaded with allusions to other works of literature and art that speaks to a writer who is intelligent and well-read.

Once again, curiosity gets the best of you, and you end up searching more about the band on the internet. You find out that Suguru is the genius behind the lyrics as well, having written most of the songs himself.

So, you torture yourself by listening to his beautiful, thick, and warm voice singing pure poetry into your ears. It makes you think of him, of his face, his piercings, his eyes, his hair, his tattoos, his hands, his body—

He’s possessed your mind completely.

It seems like you’re horny all of the time now, which never used to be the case. You and Choso had a very healthy and normal sex life before all of this, but now, you’re on him every single night. You spend the entire day fantasizing about Suguru. You dream about him taking you on every surface in your place. You imagine his head buried between your thighs, and then you envision yourself on your knees in front of him, mouth stuffed full of his cock. You know he’d have all of the control, and you would love it. Your pleasure would be his to manipulate.

You’re so hot and bothered by the time Choso comes home that you often try to initiate right when he walks in. He greets you happily, but insists he wants to shower and eat first before sex to wind down.

You let him, but secretly you don’t want him to wind down. You want him wound up tight, so tight that he takes all of the day’s stress out on you.

Choso has never been rough with you in bed. He doesn’t even often take control, though power dynamics as a whole generally stay out of the bedroom. He likes whatever you like, and enjoys whatever you give him.

When you’re fucking him, you can’t help but wish sometimes that he’d go harder. You want him to hold you down, to pound you into the mattress, to put his hands around your neck and hold them there until you tap on his arm for air. You want him to manhandle you into whatever position he wants, to fuck your face, to just take from you. But he doesn’t. He can’t. He loves you too much to even think of treating you that way.

You know that Suguru could do all of those things to you. He would use the strength of his big arms to keep you pinned beneath him while he ruins you from the inside. He’d keep going even if you begged for mercy, pushing you past your limits, controlling your body like it’s nothing but a marionette. He’d pull all of the right strings.

You know he would look and sound beautiful while doing it. You want to see him with no clothes on, with all of his tattoos on display, his hair down from its tie so that it spills over his broad shoulders. He’d groan, pant in exertion, praise or degrade you—it wouldn’t matter. You’d have him.

Today, Choso is at Suguru’s house working with the band, so you’re alone at home again. You could have gone to watch but Suguru would be there and you don’t think that after what happened last time you’d be able to maintain your sanity around him.

As you sit on the couch in the living room, your thoughts drift to Suguru. You think of his flawless face, of the piercings framing his bottom lip, and of the stud in the center of his tongue.

Just the mere memory of his damned tongue piercing is enough to have a wave of heat crash into you. You lay your head in your hand—Suguru is truly making you lose your mind.

You can’t stop your mind from continuing to follow the thoughts of him. You’re reminded of the look in his eyes when he watched you ride your boyfriend. Not at all flustered or embarrassed that he was caught staring. Just watching with a smirk like he has the biggest dick in the world. Fuck. You mean, just look at him, the way he carries himself, the way he talks, of course he’s big.

You’ve never acted like this before. Size never really mattered to you. Choso is well-endowed and he satisfies you well enough.

Well enough?

You hadn’t thought about it. He’s great in bed, always eager to please—but maybe that’s just it. You usually lead. Sometimes he’s a little bit more on the initiative side but he never ever just takes from you. You long to just give someone all of the control for once, to lay there and take whatever he feels like giving you, to be pushed to your limits.

Choso is too much of a sweetheart to do that to you. You know he respects and thinks too highly of you to treat you like that.

Suguru, on the other hand…

Fuck.

He would just make you take it. He’d hold you down with all of his strength, manhandle you into whatever position he feels like, do whatever he wants to you.

That sinful tongue comes back to mind.

He could just throw you onto the nearest surface and push your legs apart. He could even rip your underwear to shreds and you wouldn’t even care—he can do anything he wants to you.

You feel yourself getting wet, shifting on the couch. You know you shouldn’t feed into these desires, but now that the thoughts have started you can’t turn them off. Maybe if you got off to the thoughts of him, you’d have a clearer head.

You might just be making excuses so that you can have this, but regardless of your reasoning, your hand is already dipping below both of your waistbands, finding the slick warmth beneath quickly.

What if Suguru was with you right now? What if somehow the two of you were alone together? What would Suguru do?

Maybe he would grab you by the legs, push them open, and get on his knees. You’re wearing loose shorts today. What if he just moved the fabric aside and started giving you head, right there in the living room?

You bite your lip as your touches simulate the imagined movement of his mouth, envisioning his beautiful face between your thighs, lazily confident eyes boring into yours with something dark and wild, pink tongue flicking up and down your neediest spot. He wouldn’t look away. He’d want you to watch him. He’d want to put on a show for you, to give you pleasure not only by sensation but by sight as well.

You moan in your throat as the thought gets you even wetter, speeding up your touches.

He’d rub his silver stud right against that swollen pearl, and maybe he’d smirk when he sees what that does to you. He has to know what it does to you, god does it fuck you up?

You want him to fuck you up. You so do, you need him like you’ve never needed anyone before. Maybe it’s because you can’t have him, but the desperation you feel for Suguru is so severe it’s like the sky will come crashing down if you don’t get him.

Maybe he’d even start to finger you as he eats you out. He’d make you take two at once, two of those thick, long fingers, calloused and rough from his playing, covered in his rings. You’d feel the contours of the metal inside of you—

“Fuck,” you hiss, already nearing your peak. It’s been a while since you orgasmed this quickly. The only other time was when you’d jumped your boyfriend outside of Suguru’s house, when you were looking right at him and he was looking at you while you rode Choso, eyes dark against the dim streetlight.

It wasn’t completely just your boyfriend that had made you cum that night. It was Suguru, too. His presence, his gaze on you, the feeling of his lust even from far away. You know he wants you. He couldn’t look away, either. He’s interested.

You want him to do as he pleases with you. To eat you out until you cry, maybe even to devour you whole. You don’t care, you’d even give your very fucking soul to him.

You grip a pillow beside you with your free hand as you imagine him fucking his fingers in and out of you at a rough pace, not caring if it’s too much too fast, his pretty mouth covered in your essence, working over your mound like it’s his last meal. He’d have your legs spread wide, wanting as much space as he can get, entire head moving along with his mouth in effort to get you to cum. You’d pull his hair out of its tie and let it spill over his face, gripping it in your hands, unable to look away.

He’d press wet kisses to your swollen bud, tell you how good it tastes, curl his fingers up just right as he flattens his tongue and licks with force—

“Oh fuck, Suguru!” You gasp as it hits you, climax causing you to cease up. Your eyes shut as you imagine him continuing through it, overstimulating you until you can’t take it anymore. Maybe he’d keep going. He’d force another out of you. And another after that. Maybe he’d even make you cry from it.

Your mind is reeling with even more lewd possibilities and you sigh heavily as you try to calm down.

Suguru is a very very bad idea. But you can’t get him out of your head.

At the very least, you force yourself not to fantasize about him while you’re having sex with Choso. Your love for him doesn’t waver in the slightest. Though you wish he’d be rougher, you never resent him for it. He treats you like you’re precious, to be given only the utmost care, and you wouldn’t trade him for the world. The thoughts of Suguru are for when you’re alone, and only when you’re alone.

You ask him one night to choke you during sex, and the request has him completely flustered. He agrees after some convincing, so he wraps his hand around your neck and applies pressure.

You moan out immediately, tightening around him. “Yes, baby, just like that.”

“It’s not too hard?” He asks you worriedly, pace on his hips slowing. You nod.

“It’s fine, baby,” you confirm, trying to get him to go harder, to test rather than ask what your limits are. He watches your face for any sign of discomfort, his pace slowing down even more.

“Harder,” you encourage, “Keep fucking me, Chos’.”

He swallows thickly and puts more power back into his thrusts, keeping his hand around your neck. You nod, eyes fluttering shut.

“Yes, yes…more…”

His hand squeezes a little harder and it gets difficult to breathe. Your eyes flutter shut, pleasure overwhelming you as you’re forced to feel only that—

“I can’t—I don’t want to hurt you,” he draws his hand back, air suddenly filling your lungs again, and he frowns at you. “I’m sorry, I just…I don’t think I like that.”

He’s still now, and you realize you pushed him too far. He has a guilty look written all over his face and it crushes you.

“No,” you shake your head, reaching up and cupping his face, pulling him down so you can kiss his cheek. “No, you did nothing wrong. I got carried away. I’m sorry.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“You do,” you tell him, feeling shitty for making him feel like he’s not doing enough. “I just wanted to try something, baby. We won’t do it again.”

He sighs heavily, turning his face to kiss your lips. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you murmur, pecking his mouth again. Slowly, the two of you get back into a rhythm with some coaxing.

The two of you finish a few minutes later and after you’ve cleaned up and gotten back in bed, Choso kisses your forehead as he pulls you to lay on his chest.

As he hugs you tightly, you can’t shake the dull pang in your chest that cemented itself after you went too far with him. You can’t sleep like this.

“I should’ve talked to you about it beforehand,” you begin, searching for the words. “I know you like when I squeeze your neck a little but I shouldn’t have assumed you’d like doing it to me.”

He sighs above you, hand rubbing up and down your arm. “I’m just aware of how much stronger than you I am. I don’t want to lose control and hurt you by accident. I'd rather you be the one with my life in your hands than the other way around.”

The poetry of that statement warms your heart. He’s the sweetest man you’ve ever known. It brings a smile to your face as you balance yourself up on your elbow to look into his eyes.

“You’re always so caring,” you say, taking in his gorgeous face, glimmering with a thin sheen of sweat. “What did I do to deserve you?”

He smiles softly, huffing with a laugh. “You’re just you. I had a crush on you for the longest time, and even now the fact that you still want me—you just make me so happy.”

You shake your head with a grin, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he chuckles, wrapping you back up in his arms as you settle on his chest. There is a period of silence before he speaks again. “You know, there’s that new horror movie that’s out in theaters. Do you want to see it together tomorrow?”

It has been a while since you went on a proper date with him. He’s been so busy with the band—but isn’t he busy tomorrow as well?

“That sounds fun. But I thought you have band rehearsal. And we can’t go before ‘cause I’m seeing my friend tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I do, but we can just go after,” he replies, “How about I drive myself to practice, and you have your friend drop you off at Suguru’s place? It’s closer to downtown anyway—that would work, right?”

An involuntary sharp breath that you have to cover up with a simple shift to get more comfortable overtakes you. You haven’t been to Suguru’s house since you met him, and the thought of seeing him again makes you both nervous and thrilled. You don’t think being around him is a good idea but Choso’s plan makes too much sense for you to dispel it. Besides, maybe you can just go in, greet him quickly, and then leave. It should be fine.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “That works.”

“Then it’s a date,” there’s a smile in his smooth voice and you press a kiss to his sternum in response, letting his heartbeat lull you to sleep as you try not to think about who you’re going to be seeing tomorrow.

It takes a while, but eventually, you fall asleep.

—

You’re on the doorstep of Suguru’s house after having just parted ways with your friend for the day. Seeing as you had a day out and are about to go on a date, you made yourself look a little bit more done-up than you would on a usual day, and you keep trying to stifle the little voice in your head that says I hope Suguru notices.

Taking a deep breath, you text your boyfriend to let him know you’re there. A minute later, the door is opening to reveal Miguel.

“Hey,” he greets with a casual grin. “Choso said you’d be coming. Come on in, make yourself at home. We’ll be done in a bit.”

“Thanks,” you smile, entering the house and taking off your shoes. “Do you mind if I just wait in the living room?”

“Not at all, Suguru told me to tell you his house was your house,” Miguel shrugs. “Hell, make some tea if you want. He’s chill with anything.”

You laugh breathily. “Okay, cool.”

“We’re in the middle of recording Choso’s backing vocals so he’ll be out in a little.”

“Okay, it’s no problem,” you say, and with that, Miguel walks up the hallway to where the recording studio is.

Just like that, you’re left alone in Suguru’s house. It looks just as stylish and serene as it did the last time, and you have to admit he has really good taste. You sigh, considering your options. You could just sit on the couch and wait, but that might give you a free-pass to start ruminating on all the ways Suguru could make you his on the surfaces of his furniture.

You blink. Nope, not a good option. You feel like making tea is overstepping, but maybe getting a glass of water would do you some good. It’ll give you something to do, anyway. You figure you’ll try it.

You pad to the left where the kitchen is, realizing you don’t know where anything is. You debate giving up and just going to sit, but curiosity gets the better of you. This is Suguru’s kitchen—you want to snoop a little bit, just innocently, to see if there’s any quirks hidden in the items he has.

You make your way to the counter and open the first drawer, finding silverware. Basic silver spoons and forks, sleek black chopsticks, and pretty porcelain chirenge spoons. You smile to yourself at the white and black design—even the small things have a touch of his aesthetic to them.

You close the drawer and decide that the glasses are probably in a cabinet above the counter, so you take a look at them. That’s when you notice that the black wooden doors reach all the way up to the high ceiling. You hum, deciding to open the first one. The first shelf has bowls and plates, and the second one has mugs. No glasses.

You move on to the next one and open it, seeing bigger bowls on the first shelf and glasses on the second. But that's just it—there is a large space between the first and the second shelves.

The cabinets in this place are ridiculous. Why are all of the cups placed so high? You can’t even hope to reach them. You’d take any glass, the one on the very edge seems easiest to get, but even that seems impossible.

You extend your arm up futilely, rolling your eyes at your own bright idea. You look around, searching for any kind of stool to use. Your eyes only find the counter and internally, you sigh. The counter is what it’s going to have to be.

You raise your leg to start climbing up when a familiar deep voice stops you in your tracks.

“Need some help?” Suguru.

Your heart jumps into your throat and you turn your head to look at him. Your mouth goes dry.

Today, he has his hair completely down, layers falling around his chin and over his shoulders effortlessly. There’s a bar in his right ear that you hadn’t seen when you met him, hair tucked behind his ear, and the rest of his piercings lay on his face like constellations. He smiles at you warmly, showing off perfect, straight teeth, and the flutter it gives your heart is almost violent.

“Uh, yeah,” you force yourself to talk like a normal person, “I-I wanted to get some water—Miguel told me I could. Can’t reach the cups.”

“These cabinets are ridiculous, huh?” He asks with a grin, leaning against the counter beside you.

“Yeah,” you agree, still trying to school your body’s reaction so he doesn’t see how weak in the knees he’s making you feel.

“I’ll get one for you. Which one caught your eye?”

You look up and point to the one closest to the edge of the shelf. He makes a move and before you can step out of the way, he’s reaching over you.

By doing so, the entire expanse of his body presses into you from behind, sandwiching you between him and the counter as he stretches for the glass. His body is firm and warm. Like this, you can smell his cologne, a smoky jasmine, and you swear your mind turns into mush then and there. You suck in a breath, leaning your hands on the cool marble for support and maybe for mental purchase too.

He grabs the cup, and as he’s bringing it down, he backs up to where he’d been standing beside you before. You feel like you might faint. You just felt his entire frame pressing against you. You even felt the print of his dick through his black sweatpants against your hip—fuck, your mind is going haywire. Your knees are going to give out at any moment. Holy shit.

“You’re a little dressed up today, aren’t you?” He asks, still holding the glass in his hand. He hasn’t offered it to you yet, like he’s making you wait for it. God.

“Oh, yeah,” you manage, doing your best to retain normalcy. “Yeah, uh, Choso and I are going to see a movie after this.”

“Oh, really? What movie?”

“It’s that new horror one—we like scary movies.”

Suguru nods, humming. “How long have you been together?”

You shift just to give yourself something to do. “Uh, coming up on a year now.”

“Really?” He asks, an appraising face on his features. “You seem happy with him.”

Your lips part. What sort of reply is he looking for here? And why do you feel…guilty agreeing with that statement?

“Yeah,” you say, “He’s great. We’re happy.”

“Choso is a lucky man. You’re beautiful.”

If you felt near-faint then, now you feel near-death.

Suguru just called you beautiful. He didn’t say ‘you look beautiful’, he said ‘you are beautiful’. Oh god, you’re going to run wild with that when you’re alone with your thoughts again. Right now you aren’t.

You’re alone with Suguru.

“Oh,” you exhale, a small smile stretching over your lips. You avert your eyes to the side, to where his hand still holds the glass. Like this, it’s like he’s holding you captive for a conversation. You like it. “Thanks.”

“Was that too bold? You’ll have to forgive me,” he tells you, and when you look at him again, he’s smiling sheepishly. God, he’s so gorgeous. The white t-shirt he’s wearing today hugs his muscles perfectly and shows a bit of his tattoos through the fabric—wait, are those piercings in the centers of his pecs? Fuck. Where else is pierced?

Shit, he can see you checking him out. Focus.

“No, it’s…don’t worry about it,” you say, and he sobers up, suddenly turning more serious.

“You know…I wanted to say that I’m sorry for that night. I know you saw me,” his voice is low, and you realize with a shock that he’s talking about you and Choso in the car. “It was wrong to watch. I intruded. I…I’m not usually like that at all.”

You swallow thickly. Words. Find words. “I…well…I mean, it was my bad…we were outside of your house. It was wrong of me to want to then and there. He’s not at fault.”

“You started it?”

Your eyes lock with his. “I did.”

“Do you do that a lot?”

This conversation is treading into dangerous territory and it’s absolutely thrilling you.

“That was the first time.”

“Why?”

You inhale slowly. It was because of you. I want you and I know I shouldn’t, so I took it out on him. You can’t tell him the truth, but you feel like he can see it in your eyes. You can’t lie, either. Fuck.

“I could’ve stopped once I saw you watching,” you choose to say, an indirect answer, and his dark eyes flicker with something you’re instantly drawn to.

“You kept going.”

“I did.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Are you…usually like that?”

Voyeuristic? Horny? Impatient? Risky? Slutty?

“No,” you answer, “Something came over me.”

His lips pull into a smirk, and he steps closer to you. The glass slides along the countertop with his movement. “Something? What did?”

He’s so close you can smell his cologne again. It makes you almost dizzy. The distance between you two is less than respectable now.

“Hmm?”

Oh. You haven’t given him an answer and he expects one. You can’t divulge fully. It would be wrong. You have a boyfriend…where is he? Still in the studio, probably. But Suguru needs some kind of answer. You decide to be vague.

“Thoughts.”

The teasing expression widens, and he reaches up, laying his fingers gently on your cheek. His thumb brushes your lower lip.

His touch lights an instant fire inside of you. You feel hot all over and it’s almost like there is electricity scattering between you two like a power surge. Your heart rate picks up even more.

“Thoughts? Of…?” He prompts, voice dipping even lower, to just above a whisper. It sends a shiver down your spine. It’s like he commands the truth out of you.

“Of you.”

His honey-colored eyes spark to life. “What kind of thoughts about me?”

Oh god, oh god, he’s so close and you want him so badly. You’re itching to just grab him and kiss him then and there.

He seems to share your sentiments because he leans in, nose brushing against yours. You can feel his breath on your Cupid’s bow, eyelids fluttering shut automatically.

“Tell me,” he whispers above your mouth, and you breathe out shakily, trying to find the words but all of them have left you high and dry to deal with Suguru alone. Your lips move to form some form of answer, or maybe to close the short distance to feel his mouth on yours—

“Baby?”

Choso’s voice ringing from up the hallway shocks you both back into reality.

Suguru is off of you faster than a wisp of wind, backing up and putting an appropriate amount of distance between the two of you. You feel like ice water has just been dumped over you.

“We’re in the kitchen!” Suguru answers for you, seeing how flustered you are.

Choso rounds the corner and a soft smile appears on his face. “Hey.”

At the sight of his sweet face, remorse floods your body like a tidal wave. You almost kissed Suguru. And before that, you were flirting with him. Behind the back of your precious, loyal boyfriend.

You shouldn’t have come here. You can’t control yourself around Suguru and you almost did something you would have regretted after the fact.

Choso looks at you in concern. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

Say something to him. “Oh, oh—nothing. Just,” excuse, excuse, excuse, “I just feel bad for interrupting your recording session. I got done sooner than I thought and figured I’d come early.”

“Oh,” he smiles in relief, shaking his head. “No, no, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Suguru adds, grabbing your attention again. He gives you a smile, but his eyes are muddled, swarming with millions of indiscernible thoughts. “We could take five anyway. I figured since I was on the way back from a smoke I’d say ‘hi’.”

You force yourself to breathe slower. Having them both here in the room with you is overwhelming you. Two of the most beautiful men on Earth, their attention solely on you, the angel that you were blessed with and the demon tempting you away.

“Thank you for being so welcoming,” you say, regaining your composure. “I know I’m still a stranger.”

“My house is your house,” Suguru furrows his brow as if to say ‘nonsense’. “You’re welcome any time.”

Choso moves over to you and slings an arm around your waist. You lean into his touch, the smell of his cedarwood cologne familiar and grounding.

“You look amazing,” Choso tells you with a dopey smile, like a teenager with a crush, one that fills you with warmth. He presses a kiss to your cheek, and under the watchful eyes of Suguru, you feel bashful.

That doesn’t add up. Especially when he watched the two of you fuck the last time he saw you.

You meet his eyes, which are boring into your face. You can’t tell what he’s thinking but you can guess by the tight expression on his features. He clenches his jaw for a second before fixing his demeanor.

“Well, I’ll give you two a minute while the break lasts. You’re welcome to come watch him record,” Suguru tells you, and with that, he exits the room, leaving the glass alone on the counter.

As soon as you feel his presence exit, you relax minutely.

Choso turns his face to plant a kiss on your lips, hugging you tightly. “I think I scared him away. I can’t help it—can’t keep my hands off of you.”

The two of them are going to give you whiplash. How can you possibly stand this?

Your hand finds his chest and you look into his eyes, butterflies stirring up in your stomach. The completely infatuated look in his eyes is easy to read. He’s so in love with you and it’s written all over his face. With the way he’s gazing at you now, you wouldn’t question it if he got down on his knees and kissed the ground you walked on.

You touch his jaw and plant a kiss of your own on his lips. “I’ll never complain about your affection.”

He smiles. “I’ll never stop giving it to you.”

You stroke his cheekbone with your thumb. This man is perfect in every way. You wouldn’t trade him for the world. You know that no matter what happens, your feelings for him could never waver. “I’ll never stop loving you.”

The bridge of his nose pinkens underneath the black line of his tattoo. “Well, I’ll never stop loving you, either.”

That warrants another kiss. This time, it’s deeper and it makes your heart pound just like it had the very first time you did all of those months ago.

When you pull back, you’re both slightly breathless, and he grins shyly at you. “Come on, we should get back. I don’t want someone to come looking and catch us making out in Suguru’s kitchen.”

You laugh softly, nodding your head to turn out of the embrace and grab his hand instead. “You’re right. We have a movie to catch soon.”

He squeezes your palm and leads you out of the kitchen, the glass of water you’d originally tried getting slipping your mind completely.

When you and Choso enter the recording studio, Suguru is at the mixing board while Miguel experiments on one of his keyboards against the wall, Larue laying across the couch.

“Hey,” Larue waves at you, and you wave back.

“Hi.”

“Perfect timing. I think I have a good balance going for the vocals,” Suguru says, turning towards the two of you. “I want to record you doing a lower harmony than the one we did for another layer, because I like how your voice sounds in the background. Think you can?”

Choso nods, pulling away from you to walk towards the door of the soundproof-booth.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

He enters the small room, closing the door behind himself. You start walking towards one of the empty chairs to sit, but then Suguru calls your name.

Just the sound of it in the contours of his voice is enough to stop you in your tracks.

You turn around, and he’s holding the chair beside himself open. “Come sit here. Watch your boyfriend make magic with me.”

That makes your insides twist with heat.

“Okay,” you say, sauntering over to the open seat and lowering yourself into it, right beside Suguru. Your eyes scatter over all of the dials, notches, and buttons before you. It looks sort of like an airplane control panel, you think. So many different knobs.

“It’s not as complicated as it looks,” he smiles easily, “I’ll show you while he sings.”

You nod smally, laughing softly. “Okay.”

His eyes linger on you for a bit longer before he turns to the small microphone on the desk, pressing a red button near him.

“Okay, Choso,” he begins, and you look at your boyfriend, who dons headphones and is poised in front of a microphone with a pop-filter. He has his own set-up in the extra room at your place, and he’s explained the basic components, but this place is definitely professional-grade. Even the headphones look expensive. “I want it a third lower than the last take. Like this.”

You aren’t prepared to hear Suguru start singing right beside you.

You’ve heard him sing before, it’s a well-kept secret between you and any deities invested in your drama that you’ve probably made the curve of Curse Manipulator’s streams spike up an embarrassing amount. Lately it’s all you play.

Even still, to hear his buttery vocals ring out right beside you in person is almost an entirely new experience.

When he finishes, you feel like you can finally breathe again. He takes his finger off of the button, and you hear Choso’s voice through the speakers, repeating the harmony you just heard but in his smoky, breathy voice instead. You’re melting. Holy shit.

Your eyes meet his through the glass and he smiles, raising his brows as if to ask ‘how was it?’ and you nod, mirroring his grin.

“Sounds great. Okay, I’ll play the track.”

Suguru moves the playhead of the program on his computer with the mouse near his hand, clicks it back, and presses the ‘space’ bar on his keyboard.

Music flows through the speakers, a bass-heavy track with a really slow yet catchy beat, and the first thing you hear is Suguru’s recorded vocals before harmonies hit and Choso starts to sing under them.

The two of their voices blended together sends you right to heaven. At that moment, you find god. It’s a religious experience. Lyrics about love and desire, dark and poetic ride the contours of the beautiful sounds gracing your ears.

“He’s great, isn’t he?” Asks Suguru, and you nod, unable to find a verbal reply. You’re in awe. “How’s the song sounding?”

“It’s…I mean, it’s amazing,” you reply. It’s a song about wanting what one can’t have. You think it fits your situation a little to well, because jealousy and anguish is laced into the mix also. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” Suguru smiles at you. “I wrote it last week. I can’t get it out of my head—so it’s come to life pretty fast.”

Last week. Forbidden feelings…could it be…?

“I’ve just been feeling so inspired,” he continues, and you see that same look in his eyes. You know exactly what—no, who, rather—the song is about, and you take a deep breath.

“I love it.”

The thought of being Suguru's muse goes right to your head. This talented, walking god was inspired by you?

He flashes you a grin, looking almost rewarded, and he turns back to Choso, who is finishing up his last line. Suguru hits the ‘space’ again and the music pauses. He holds down the red button again.

“That sounded great. I’ll have you do it again just for doubles. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

Just as he did before, Suguru moves the playhead back to the beginning of the section and presses ‘play’. The same part of the song starts playing, and Choso begins to sing again.

“So,” Suguru speaks. “You see all these dials? See how they’re lined up in columns?”

You direct your attention to the board again. “Yeah.”

“Each column is for a different track,” he explains, pointing to the screen at the top row. “That’s the main vocal, my voice. It corresponds to this first column.”

He points to the left-most section on the board.

“Then you just go down the line. The next row is the next column, and so on. These dials control things like ‘panning’, so it moves the sound to the right,” he turns it accordingly, moving his voice to the right speaker only, “or to the left.”

He does it the other way before turning it back to the middle.

“The switch here is for volume. Up is louder, and down is quieter,” he says. “And that’s pretty much it. Not so bad, right?”

You nod, looking at the mixing board again. Suddenly, it really does seem less imposing.

“Yeah, actually.”

What else could he teach you?

You internally slap your forehead as soon as that thought hits you. Calm down, you tell yourself.

“Glad I could show you something,” Suguru is saying to you as he hits the ‘pause’ and starts speaking to Choso again. All you can think about is ‘you could show me a lot of things’, and then right after, ‘damn it, control yourself’. It’s a loop on repeat, over and over, lust and then berating self-awareness.

The next thing you know, Choso is coming out of the booth.

“All right, are you ready?” He asks you, and it’s then that you realize he and Suguru probably just finished up while you were having a small-scale mental breakdown.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, eager to leave yet reluctant to part ways with Suguru. You like being next to him. You like when he talks to you, his attention on you. But that’s bad. You need to go, and ideally never come back to prevent a mistake.

You stand up and walk over to Choso, taking his hand.

“I’ll see you guys on Monday,” Choso says, and Larue and Miguel reply in kind. You wave as well, and Suguru stands.

“I’ll see you guys out.”

The entire walk down the hallway feels like ten years. Suguru walks behind you and Choso, and you wonder what he’s thinking. Choso is completely oblivious to what had happened earlier, to how close you came to cheating on him.

You frown. That isn’t a pretty thought, but it’s the truth. You almost let Suguru take everything you’ve built with Choso away in the matter of a few seconds. What is going on with you?

You get to the door and start putting your shoes on, forcing the thoughts back. You didn’t do anything. Everything is fine.

“Great job today,” Suguru says, “I think this track’ll sound awesome. That gig we have coming up at the end of the month is a perfect time to debut it, don’t you think? An exclusive before we drop it.”

“Yeah, I think it would be great,” agrees your boyfriend. “It’s coming together really well.”

“I agree,” Suguru replies as you stand back up. He turns his attention to you. “What did you think of it all? Pretty cool to watch it come to life, right?”

Your smile is partially forced. He’s troubling the hell out of your thoughts and you can’t seem to stop wanting him. “It’s sounding great. I can’t wait until it comes out. Thanks for letting me hear it beforehand.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. You have special access,” he says, leaning against his wall. “I’m glad you came by. Your presence is always welcome.”

And that right there is the problem.

“Well, thank you,” you say, taking a breath. “Uh, so, Choso, we should get going. I want to be there in time for the previews.”

“You’re right,” he says, “See you next week, Suguru.”

“See you then. Have a good night,” Suguru smiles, raising his hand in a parting wave. He opens the door and lets the two of you out, allowing you to finally get some space from him.

As soon as you’re down the driveway, you feel a lot more in control of your actions, and your head is clearer. Thank fuck.

“I’m excited to see this movie,” Choso states, getting the car keys from his pocket.

“Me too,” is your response, letting his hand go to get into the passenger seat. As soon as you’re buckled in, he starts the engine and drives off.

You look out of the window to see Suguru standing on his balcony, poised with another cigarette or joint or something between his fingers, looking down at you.

He waves this time, leaning on his hand, and you surreptitiously place your hand on the bottom of the window in a silent response.

Then, you’re driving down the street, away from him.

For the sake of your sanity, you really hope that you don’t end up alone with him again. You fear that you might not be able to control yourself.

—-

A/N: the response I’ve gotten for this is wild!! Thank you all for liking this so much. I hope you enjoyed the update. More drama ahead!

Please don’t repost/translate, but feel free to reblog and share.

Tag list (comment to be added): @jaegerstan222 , @cosmicstarlatte , @dabisdolly , @moonriseoverkyoto , @propheticfire , @bontensbabygirl , @crlyhairedwxtch , @alittlebirdahgaselx , @okkovtsu , @notbellasstuff , @uchihabbynic , @polaroidnana , @childof-iluvtar , @shadowfoxy , @jordan-network , @dreamtravelersade , @unmatchxd

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #jjk x you #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #jjk suguru #geto x reader #geto x you #geto smut #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x you #kamo choso #choso kamo #choso smut #choso x you #choso jjk #two+one fic

[pearwaldorf]

I have been trying to write this on and off for a while. I figure the second anniversary of the show is as fine an occasion as any to shove it out into the world. It is not everything I want to say about it, but I think the important bits are there.

It is a human impulse to be seen. To be told, through art, you are not alone. It is universal, but of special importance to people who are not well-represented in media (i.e. everybody who isn’t cis, white, able-bodied, skinny, and conventionally attractive).   

This show speaks to me as a queer person who figured things out later than most of my peers. (Not quite as late as Ed and Stede but not terribly far off either.) It’s not super common to see queer media address this, and I didn’t realize how much I needed that reassurance until I got it. That it’s okay to find these things any time in your life. To be told “A queer is never late, they’re always fashionably on-time.” 

They’re not my first canon queer ship. But they are the first ones where I knew it was true from the get-go. Multiple people assured me this was the case. And yet, I still didn’t believe it until I saw it with my own two eyes. This experience is not unusual for fans around my age.  

After I finished up season one, I laid in bed and cried. It’s not something I thought would affect me so much, but it feels like a weight I’d carried so long I didn’t realize it wasn’t supposed to be part of me is gone.

One of the reasons people unfamiliar with the fandom seem to think it’s absolutely crazy (which some of it is, to be fair, but every fandom has that) is the way fans of the show get extremely super intense about it. It took me a few weeks to realize this is a trauma response. I’m not even sure “trauma” is the right word. It doesn’t interfere with my day to day function, but it lasted for years. Decades. So it was definitely something that fucked me up. And in the way you can only start to see something as you’re moving past it, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to get my head around this. (I don’t know if I have anything to say about it yet. Maybe I need more time to sit with it.)

I know this sounds contrary, but I’m really glad David Jenkins does not come from fandom. Sometimes it’s good to know where a line is, and others it’s better to not know there’s a line at all. And this is, sad to say, remarkable to somebody who has had to deal with this for so long. With so many writers and showrunners aware of the line, and getting right up next to it, but never crossing it.

Imagine doing a show with a queer romance and not understanding why this was received with such emotion and fervor, because it’s just two people in love right? What blissful ignorance that this needed to be explained to him! And then he listened to people’s experiences with queerbaiting, and went “Oh my god you thought I was going to do WHAT?” And then you go “Huh. That is really fucked up.” 

The problem with being told something enough, even though you know it’s wrong, is you start to believe it regardless. All the excuses and hedging. It’s so very difficult to do they tell us, when we hear from queer creators how they had fight tooth and nail to make it as gay as it already was. 

And then comes Jenks, just yeeting it out there: majority queer and (not and/or. and) POC cast, an openly non-binary person playing an openly non-binary character. The ability to not have to make one queer (and/or) POC character speak for everybody, so you can inject a tiny bit of nuance into the conversation. The way you can tell more kinds of stories, like the one where the smol angry internalized homophobe comes into his own with the support of a queer community, even though he was a giant fucking asshole to them before.

So many people were like “You can just DO that? It’s really that easy?” And wasn’t that a fucking Situation, to have that curtain pulled aside. What next? Majority POC casts with stories about POC written by POC? Absolute madness. (Please please watch The Brothers Sun on Netflix. It’s so fucking good.) 

And people will scoff and say “Of course a cishet(?) white man would be able to get this pushed through.” But do they usually? The thing I don’t think people understand about allies is they use their privilege to wedge the door open. You still have to do the work to get through, but at least you have a place to start. And it really fucking matters.

The press keeps trying to tell me The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin is the OFMD substitute we need while we float in the gravy basket. I’m sure it’s a perfectly fine show, but I don’t know who has watched OFMD and decided the itch we needed scratched was anachronistic historical comedy.

I want stories written by people that reflect their lived experiences, with actors and crew committed to bringing that to life. And I would like streamers and studios to commit to giving them a chance, and marketing them properly so people know they exist. 

You can keep people satisficed with scraps for only so long. At some point, somebody is going to give them a whole seven course dinner and people will wonder why they’ve been putting up with starving this entire time.

#our flag means death #ofmd #our flag turns 2 #pear watches ofmd #pear text