#He never has the doubts and questions and anxieties others have about his sense of personhood and self-worth and value etc etc

[dukeofriven]

I don't know are you sure there's just always going to be another Dave? Really? REALLY?

there will always be another dave strider but there will never be another terezi, there will never be another kanaya, there will never be another aradia, there will never be another jade harley. so many of the women in homestuck blatantly go against expectation and are so wonderfully unique for it

[queenofwands89]

Revelations

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Fem!Pilot!reader

Summary: Y/N overhears Jake's heartfelt confession about liking someone and dares to hope it's her. But when she sees him with another girl, intrigue and uncertainty swirl. Is she the one he truly desires, or has she misread the signs?

Word count: 3,010

Warnings: Angst, Misunderstanding, reader jumping to conclusions, eavesdropping, other character plotting against Jake and y/n, tears, sad, fluff, confessions.

Notes: This is somewhat of a continuation of this fic, but you don't have to read it because I intended it to be a standalone. Didn't have time to proof read so sorry for any typos. I hope you enjoy byeeee 💜

Your friends had been relentless in their teasing about Jake having a crush on you. At first, you laughed it off, finding it impossible to believe that Jake Seresin, the eternally confident and suave pilot, could be interested in you. But as time passed, you started noticing small gestures and moments that made you question your initial disbelief.

Jake had always been kind to you, but recently his kindness seemed to extend beyond common politeness. He remembered the tiniest details you shared in passing—how you liked your coffee, your favorite authors, even the specific way you styled your hair on a bad day. He was quick to offer help, whether you needed an extra hand with a task or just someone to talk to. The way he looked at you, with an intense and sometimes tender gaze, made your heart flutter against your will.

Despite these signs, you remained conflicted. The thought of Jake possibly liking you brought as much fear as it did excitement. What if your friends were just teasing for fun? What if Jake’s actions were merely those of a considerate friend? The fear of misinterpreting his actions and making a fool of yourself loomed large in your mind. You began to feel like you were walking a tightrope, delicately balanced between hope and skepticism.

One afternoon, you were walking past the common room at the base when you heard familiar voices—Rooster, Javy, and Jake—engaged in what seemed like a serious conversation. Curiosity and a bit of anxiety gripped you as you recognized Jake's voice among them. You slowed your pace, your heart thudding in your chest, and edged closer to the door.

“I just don’t know how to tell her,” Jake admitted, his voice carrying a vulnerability that you had never associated with him before. You could sense the frustration and hesitation in his words, the struggle of a man who was usually so self-assured finding himself in unfamiliar emotional territory.

Your heart raced. “Could they be talking about me?” you wondered, your breath catching in your throat. The possibility sent a thrilling yet terrifying jolt through your system. You pressed yourself against the wall, straining to hear more, each beat of your heart echoing in your ears.

“But you’ve got to tell her, man,” Rooster encouraged, his tone filled with genuine support. “She deserves to know.” The sincerity in Rooster’s voice struck a chord, amplifying the gravity of Jake’s confession.

“But what if she doesn’t feel the same way?” Jake's voice, usually so cocky and assured, wavered with uncertainty. “What if I ruin everything?”

A pause followed, the silence heavy with the weight of Jake’s fears.

“She won’t.” It was Javy who spoke next, his voice calm and reassuring. “You’ve got to trust yourself. And trust her. She’s not just anyone; she’s special.”

You felt your pulse quicken, a mix of hope and anxiety swirling within you. Could it really be true? Was Jake talking about you? The words from Rooster and Javy seemed to point in that direction, but the fear of jumping to conclusions held you back.

“I know she is,” Jake replied softly, almost to himself. “That’s what makes it so damn hard.”

The vulnerability in Jake’s voice replayed in your mind, planting even more seeds of doubt and hope. The need to discern reality from your friends' teasing and your own fears had never felt more urgent.

Before you could eavesdrop any further, Natasha's voice echoed from down the hall, calling your name. Panic surged through you like an electric shock. Instinctively, you quickly moved away from the doorway, your heart pounding and thoughts racing. As you walked towards her, trying to act casual, you couldn't shake the question that now consumed your mind: Who was Jake talking about?

"Hey," Natasha greeted you with a curious look, her eyebrows knitting together slightly. "What were you doing back there?"

You hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward the room where Jake and the others were talking. Finally, you confessed, “I overheard Jake talking with Rooster and Javy. He was talking about liking someone but didn’t say who.”

A knowing smile crept onto Nat’s face as her curiosity morphed into something more mischievous. “Why are you so worried about Jake liking someone?”

Your cheeks flushed crimson. "I-I don't know. I guess... I guess I just wondered if he was talking about me," you stammered, hardly believing the words were coming out of your mouth.

Nat's eyes widened in realization, her smile broadening into a grin that practically split her face. “Oh my god, you like Jake!”

“No, I—” you started, but Nat cut you off, clearly reveling in this revelation.

“Everyone’s been saying he has a crush on you,” she continued enthusiastically. “Jake's always sweet to you. I'm pretty sure he was talking about you. You should tell him how you feel.”

Your mind raced back to countless little moments that suddenly took on new significance: the way Jake’s eyes lingered on you during group meetings, the playful banter that always seemed to hold a deeper meaning, the subtle ways he tried to be there for you without making it obvious.

“I don’t know, Nat,” you replied, faltering. The fear of being wrong and the risk of vulnerability loomed large in your thoughts.

Natasha placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, her grip firm. “Listen to me, Y/N,” she said earnestly. “You deserve to be happy. And what’s the worst that could happen? If he wasn’t talking about you, then it’s his loss. But if he was… think about what you could be missing out on. Just tell him how you feel.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your swirling emotions. The blend of hope and fear still churned in your chest, but Nat's encouragement gave you the courage to consider a possibility you had been afraid to fully acknowledge.

“Thanks, Nat,” you said quietly, giving her a small, grateful smile. She grinned back, her eyes twinkling with excitement. Without missing a beat, she added, “You should tell him tonight at The Hard Deck. The atmosphere is relaxed, and you can catch him in a good mood. Plus, it's a place where everyone feels a bit more confident.”

You nodded, the idea settling comfortably in your mind. The Hard Deck, with its familiar ambiance and sense of camaraderie, seemed like the perfect place. “Yeah, you’re right," you agreed, feeling emboldened by the plan.

Nat’s grin widened. “Great! Then it’s settled. Go get ready, and don’t worry—I’ll make sure he doesn’t disappear before you get there.”

With newfound resolve, you turned back toward the hallway, your heart still pounding but now with a touch of exhilaration. Tonight at The Hard Deck, you would take the leap and tell Jake how you really felt.

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

Bolstered by Nat’s reassurance, you decided to muster all the courage you had and took a chance. You spent the rest of the afternoon overthinking every scenario, planning out how you would approach Jake and what you would say. The anticipation tied your stomach into tight, nervous knots, but Nat’s words of encouragement echoed in your mind, giving you the strength to push forward.

That evening, you arrived at The Hard Deck, the familiar scents of sea air and salt mingling with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. The warm glow of string lights cast a welcoming ambiance over the buzzing crowd of friends and fellow pilots. You scanned the room, your eyes searching for Jake.

There he was, leaning casually against the bar, seemingly in his element. His smile was bright, his laughter infectious as he chatted with a few squad members. Your heart pounded in your chest as you took a deep breath, walking purposefully towards him, each step fueled by the hope of finally expressing your feelings.

But as you closed the distance, your heart nearly stopped at the sight unfolding before you. A blonde girl, stunning and radiant, approached Jake with an ease that spoke of intimacy and familiarity. She smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling with affection. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Your breath hitched painfully in your throat as you watched her lean in and kiss his cheek, her lips lingering as Jake's arm encircled her waist.

Your world tilted on its axis, the scene playing out like a cruel dream. Every piece of hope you had built up shattered, splintering into a million jagged fragments. The voices around you faded into indistinct murmurs, the vibrant atmosphere of The Hard Deck suddenly feeling cold and isolating.

Swallowing hard, tears threatened to spill as you silently concluded that the conversation you had overheard was about this blonde girl. The connection and affection between them were undeniable, making your earlier hopes feel foolish and naïve.

Crying on the inside, you turned on your heel, each step away from Jake feeling like wading through thick, relentless waves. You slipped out of The Hard Deck, the door closing behind you with an unsettling finality. Your chest ached with unspoken words and unfulfilled dreams, your heart heavy beneath the weight of unreturned feelings.

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

In the coming weeks, you found yourself avoiding Jake entirely. Whenever his name came up or plans were made that involved him, you made excuses, retreating into a quieter, more isolated version of yourself. Each glimpse of him became a painful reminder of what had been and what could never be, the gap between you widening into an unbridgeable chasm.

Though Nat and other friends noticed, you didn't feel ready to explain. The feelings were still too raw, so you chose to keep them to yourself and carried on as best as you could. You knew deep down that Jake liking someone else doesn’t make him a bad person because he has every right to be with who he wants to be. You had no right to be mad; you were not upset with him, just heartbroken. And that heartache was enough to make you withdraw, even from those closest to you.

The day of Bob’s party arrived, a day you'd been both anticipating and dreading. Just the night before, Rooster had casually mentioned that Jake wouldn't be attending. A mix of relief and disappointment had washed over you—relief for avoiding the emotional turmoil, and disappointment because, as much as you wished otherwise, you still deeply cared for Jake.

As you entered the bustling party, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. The loud music, laughter, and upbeat conversations seemed distant as you struggled to enjoy yourself. You chatted with a guy near the drinks table in an attempt to distract yourself, but your eyes kept searching the crowd for a familiar face that wasn't supposed to be there.

Then, as if mocking the emotional preparation you'd done, there he was. Jake, with his striking build and effortlessly commanding presence, stood across the room. A pang of shock struck you, and for a moment, you were frozen. How could he be here? Rooster had clearly said he wouldn't be! You quickly decided to play it cool, hoping he hadn't noticed your initial reaction.

You re-engaged in your conversation, attempting to laugh here and there, but your thoughts were distracted. Your gaze involuntarily kept flitting over to Jake's direction, drawn by an invisible thread. When Jake caught sight of you talking with someone else, his expression darkened with displeasure. He started moving towards you with determined steps, each stride amplifying the wave of unease that settled in your stomach. Your heart rate quickened, and you struggled to maintain your composure as he approached.

“Can we talk in private?” he asked, his tone leaving no room for objections.

“No, Jake, not now,” you tried to brush him off, your voice shaking slightly. But Jake was insistent, tugging you gently yet firmly to the other side of the room.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he demanded, frustration evident in his voice. The intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.

You tried to keep your voice steady. “It doesn’t matter, Jake. Let it go.”

But Jake wouldn't back down. Your voices rose, drawing the attention of everyone at the party. You felt tears welling up, the emotional pressure becoming unbearable. Turning on your heel, you fled to the basement, hoping to find a moment's peace. Jake, however, was right behind you.

“Y/N, please,” Jake pleaded as he finally caught up to you. “What’s wrong?”

“Please just stop! Jake, I don’t want to talk about it,” you said, running your fingers through your hair in frustration.

Before Jake could respond, the door to the basement swung shut with a loud click. You both turned, realizing in horror that it had locked from the other side. Jake tried the doorknob several times, each attempt becoming more forceful and desperate, but it wouldn't budge.

"Great," Jake muttered, running a hand through his hair. "We’re stuck."

You sighed, leaning against the wall. "Just perfect," you said sarcastically.

Jake approached you slowly. “Maybe this is a sign,” he said softly. “We need to talk this out, Y/N.”

Communicating in the dim basement light, you braced yourself for whatever was to come next.

Jake's voice finally broke through the silence. "Please, tell me what I did wrong. I've been unraveling without you."

His words shattered your heart into countless fragments. As you truly gazed at him, the toll of your silence became evident—dark circles lingered under his eyes, his complexion wan and weary.

Heart racing as you paused in uncertainty. You bit your lip, fighting the urge to turn and face him. For a moment, the words seemed trapped in your throat, but Jake's worried eyes spurred you on. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you finally turned to him, voice trembling with emotion. "I... I've been avoiding you because I overheard you talking with Rooster and Javy about liking someone, and I thought it was about me. But when I saw you with that blonde girl at the bar, I felt so stupid. It was clear to me then that you were talking about her."

Jake's expression shifted from confusion to shock. “You overheard our conversation? And what girl are you talking about?”

Your frustration spilled over, tears threatening to fall. “I don’t even know! There was a girl at the bar a few weeks ago who hugged you and kissed your cheek. I thought... never mind, it’s irrelevant. You have every right to date whoever you want. It’s none of my business, and I have no right to feel upset or betrayed, and I—”

“Wait, Y/N, hold on,” Jake interrupted, his tone urgent and pained. “That conversation was about you. The girl you saw? She’s my sister. I can’t believe you thought... Y/N, you mean the world to me.”

Confusion mingled with hope. "What do you mean? You were actually talking about me?"

Jake nodded earnestly, stepping closer. "Yes, Y/N, every word was about you. I've wanted to tell you how I feel for so long, but I was terrified because the bond we share is so precious to me. I couldn't bear the thought of losing it. When I was talking to Rooster and Javy, I was trying to find the courage to be honest about my feelings for you. And that girl you saw at the bar? That's my sister. She came to town for a visit, and I wanted her to meet the most important person in my life—you. I can't stand the thought of you feeling hurt because of a misunderstanding. You have no idea how much you mean to me. Seeing you with your beautiful smile, hearing your laughter, it's the highlight of my day. I cherish every moment we spend together. Y/N, you are my best friend, but you're also the one who makes my heart race. My feelings for you have only grown stronger over time, and I can't keep them hidden any longer. You are my everything, and I just want us to build something even more beautiful together."

A mixture of relief and happiness washed over you, your eyes welling up. “Oh, Jake, I’ve felt the same way for so long. I didn’t know how to tell you either. Seeing you with someone else just crushed me... I’m so sorry I acted like that.”

Jake chuckled softly, the sound filled with affection. “It’s alright, Y/N. I get it. But you don’t have to worry about anyone else. It’s always been you.”

Your heart swelled with emotion as you looked into Jake’s eyes. “I should have talked to you instead of hiding away. I’m so embarrassed. I’m really sorry for everything.”

He grinned, wiping a tear from your cheek. “Well, we do make a good drama for the team, don’t we?”

You laughed, the sound breaking the tension. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

Jake gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears. “How about we stop the drama here and start something real instead?”

With your heart full of joy, you nodded, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a tender, heartfelt kiss. The moment was perfect, everything you had dreamed of and more.

As you pulled apart, breathless and smiling, a loud cheer broke through the silence.

Turning, you saw Rooster, Natasha, Javy, Bob, Reuben, and Mickey clapping and cheering enthusiastically.

“Way to go, Jake!” Rooster called out, grinning widely.

“Finally!” Nat added, her arms raised in celebration.

Javy winked at you and said, “Took you two long enough!”

Bob, Reuben, and Mickey clapped and cheered, their smiles wide with happiness.

Rooster gave Jake a playful punch on the arm. “Good thing I thought to lock you two down here in the basement. You needed this talk.”

You and Jake exchanged a look, laughing together for the first time in what felt like ages. With your friends' cheers still ringing in your ears, you knew this was the start of something beautiful and true.

-

Tag: @bella-the-proud-fangirl

[tetsuskei]

belonging - portgas d. ace [nsfw]

synopsis: it’s never the best time when it’s his birthday, but luckily he has you to show him differently

notes: two days late, but this is the bday fic dedicated to my soul, my luvr boy. poured so much into this that it kinda doesn’t make sense but we will roll with it <3 kicking off the year with him and wouldn’t have it any other way !

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, self doubt, depression (ace has some dark thoughts), anxiety, praise, nipple biting and sucking, body worship, barely edited so probably lots of typos, reader has fem body parts

ace always assumed that ‘falling in love’ was something that happened to other people, not to him.

his entire life had been a series of doubts and questions to himself. doubts about if he deserved the good things that came to him and the people who entered his life.

but gone were the days where ace let out all his anger towards anyone and everyone in the world. if you could ask anyone about him now, they would have only amazing things to say about him. many see him as a brilliant leader, one not to be meddled with. his brothers admire his never ending strength and courage. his spirit was always there to uplift others.

so who would be there to lift him up?

only you have seen who he is once broken down. once he’s out of the public eye, and behind closed doors, he’s a much more sombre person. he’s clingy, and soft. sad, and vulnerable.

it’s not a surprise to you that he struggles with his mind sometimes. that there are days where he may spend too much time in his head, fighting off demons.

“what am i doing here?” he asked one time. it wasn’t a question directed towards you, and from the empty look in his dark brown eyes, you could tell he was having trouble answering himself.

having the blood of a devil circulating in his veins is a double edged sword. he always told himself to not let where he came from hold him back. that mentality had gotten him this far, after all. it became a driving point for him.

but after quickly rising up in ranks and making a name for himself just like so, his mindset started to change. he began to not really know what he was after. yes, he wants to be more famous than his father, but so what? what would come next?

he focused on a much simpler task. he wanted to live each day without regrets.

many considered ace like the sun. he shined so brightly on his own (literally and figuratively), but in a way, it was a curse. he shined so brightly that if anyone came too close to him, he would burn them. they’d scorch up in flames within an instant.

but you were different. despite how brightly he shone, you didn’t let that stop you. it scared him, to say the least. the only people who he was comfortable being vulnerable with in his feelings were his brothers, and yamato being another person. now you were the fourth.

you had picked and pried at him in a way no one ever had before. getting scorched (literally and figuratively) in the process. you showed him kindness and affection that he only saw in the pages of fairytales.

he knew very little about gentleness. but it didn’t mean it was impossible. the feeling of your finger tips running over his bare skin is enough to soothe him. it makes him feel like he is at home and belongs. and in return, he wanted to give you that same feeling.

he wanted to live, and always come back to you.

ace always seemed more tense around this time of year. a little more gruff, and on edge. but not in a way that makes him dangerous. or, at least to you. he just seemed a lot quieter, and more consumed in his thoughts.

his birthday, as it turned out, had always been a sore subject amongst the whitebeard pirates. no one ever pried too much into his past. even after he told you and several others of his father, of his mother, no one wanted to push him to speak more about it.

you don’t make the most grand gesture out of his birthday, only requesting help from thatch to make a grand spread of all his favorite foods, and small decorated cake.

“i’m not going to ask anything of you, but only for you to have a good time. no sulking, kay?” you told him that morning.

when finally getting time alone with your boyfriend that evening, you sat with him, holding him in your arms as the two of you watched the stars.

ace loved when you talked about the stars to him. you told him once that the constellations that sit in the sky are the same ones projected onto his face in the form of freckles. he thought it was the most ridiculous thing ever, until you said one thing.

“the stories written up in the stars are no different from the ones that live in your eyes.”

his eyes always told you what he was thinking. after all, you read him so well. you long since noticed the troubled look on his face, but remained impassive as you know he’ll come to you when he’s ready to talk. for right now, having you as his support is the best thing you could give him.

eventually, he told you that he ‘just wanted to forget about things’ and while you understood what he meant without a full explanation, you wanted to make it known how thankful you are that he’s here. that he was born. that he’s a gifted presence in your life—and so many other people’s.

one thing led to another—shared kisses and words of declarations as you shedded each others clothes off.

right now ace lays under you, a complete mess as you ride his cock. his hat was on your head at first, but now it lays somewhere on the ground.

“ahh~ fuck!” a pretty gasp leaves his rose colored lips, his eyes glazed over with tears. his adrenaline has his blood pumping like crazy, and his cock is of course no expectation to that rule. he’s twitching erratically inside of you, more than likely leaking heavily as he holds back his orgasm. his chest feels tight from how much your cunt is gripping him. it’s like you’re sucking the life out of him.

funnily enough, he’s already cum once, but his stamina, is unlimited. he’d be able to go for hours on end. that doesn’t deter you from your goal of completely fucking him stupid.

ace thinks you look beautiful above him the way that you do. like an angel that descended from the heavens. he doesn’t think he believes in any gods, but he knows surely you were sent by some celestial being to be the best gift he’s ever had in his life.

“you’re doing so good for me, ace.” you hum, leaning over his muscular form to kiss the shell of his ear. he keens when your lips then meet the sensitive juncture of his jaw and neck. your tongue swipes up any access sweat and you hum, cheekily biting him. “taste so good, too.”

his whole body is boiling to the touch, to say the least. black, greasy hair matted to his forehead. his brown eyes are blown out in pleasure, and he thinks he’s dying.

it shouldn’t be possible that he feels this good.

“don’t say that.” he grumbles shyly, hiding his face behind his hand. you pin it down to the bed, eyes glaring down at him.

“it’s true, though.” you argue, “and you feel so good too. always fill me up so well.” you moan, letting your head fall back as you grind down on him, pleasure crawling up your spine as his cock rides up against your cervix, kissing your gummy walls lovely.

“if you keep talkin’ like that i’m gonna cum again…” he warns, whining slightly.

you grin, “that’s the plan.”

ace groans, letting his head fall back on the pillows, “jesus christ, woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

you laugh, “i would say death do us part, but i’d like to think we’d follow each other into the afterlife. i feel like that’s the true meaning of a soulmate.”

ace can’t help the tears that permeate at his ducts when he feels overwhelmed with love by you and for you.

“well, i hope that if we’re reborn, we find each other in the next life.” he says breathlessly.

you hum, smiling, “of course we will.”

he’s silent before his hands guide your hips, helping you bounce on him. there’s a deafening squelching sound from the combined slick and it drives both of you crazy.

“you’re so pretty, ace.” you say, kissing the freckles on his face.

he frowns, glaring at you, “the correct term is handsome or sexy. men aren’t ‘posed to be ‘cute’.” there’s a pout on his face and it only adds on to your statement.

you laugh, “sure, baby. whatever you want.”

“‘whatever’ my ass,” he says crudely, “why don’t you make yourself useful and cum on me?” he isn’t asking though, and brings his thumb to your clit.

a sharp breath of air escapes you as you realize how much your impending orgasm is creeping up on you.

“wait…” you start, hand reaching out to stop his own.

he swats its away. “you said to make sure i’m having a good time, and this is helping.” he smirks, “no ‘sulking’, remember?”

you don’t have time to answer when your boyfriend leans over you, taking one of your breasts in his mouth to suck.

a loud moan escapes you once a euphoric pleasure washes over you. you quickly seize up before you realize your cumming hard on him.

ace grunts, closing his eyes once he feels you milking him. you’re a walking sin, and the grievance between your legs would be his downfall.

he hooks his hands under your legs before flipping you over to lay you on your back.

“a-ace…” you stutter, looking up in shock at how much his energy has suddenly changed.

“my pretty girl.” he smiles, kissing your nose, cheeks, and finally your lips. “just relax.”

his hips began to steadily rock into you as he takes over the pace, his hefty balls slapping loudly against your ass.

still sensitive, you twitch and jerk under his grasp, feeling helpless and near limp as he rails you.

“nothing ‘cute’ about the way i’m fuckin’ you, now is there?” he grins, hand titling your jaw to the side before proceeding to suck marks into your delicate skin.

a keen slips from your mouth and you try to catch your breath, “o-okay, you proved a point.”

“damn straight.” he moves both of his hands downwards, holding onto your thighs before moving your legs over his shoulders.

the new angle feels as if the wind is knocked out of you. with the way he’s looking at you adoringly, and damn near shattering your pelvis you might as well be conflicted on if he loves or loathes you.

“always feel so fucking good. wish i could stay in you forever.” he moans, biting his lip. “so perfect like this. i’m so lucky.”

you gasp, your toes curling at the way his tip drags itself seamless over your insides. your eyes threaten to roll back but you fight it, seeing how ethereal your boyfriend looks when he’s feral.

he’s never been the best with words, but with the way he takes care of you, especially in the moment you share right now, you can feel the essence of his love. the way his hand reaches grips yours to kiss your knuckles.

“thank you…for always loving me.” he pants, “and for showing me things in life i never thought i’d be able to see.”

“thought i told you to stop thanking me.” you hit him on the head. you pull on his hair but he only groans, cock twitching.

ace pulls back from your neck, “i’m serious, i…i’ve never been this happy before.”

you only smile at him before grabbing his face with both of your hands, kissing him long and passionately.

he ruts into you, chasing his release. his vision is nearly spotting with how sensitive his nerves are, but his body has a mind of its own as it craves endless pleasure.

“s-shit! i’m gonna cum!”

shamelessly, you lock your legs around him, pulling him in closer wordlessly.

he laughs, sweat trickling down his brow, “ah~ you want it again, yeah? can’t get enough of my cum, can you?”

“always need to be filled by you, ace.” you moan, nails clawing helplessly at his back.

you lean forward before your teeth gently sink into a pert nipple, making him shout and swear as his orgasm is triggered.

and as he spills into you again for the second time that evening, you find yourself following him in suspension of death.

ace lays his weight on you, not crushing you, but knowing him and his narcolepsy, he just damn near will in a second.

you use all your strength to turn both of you over, and he grunts. if it was wet before between the two of you, it’s soaking now as his cum trickles down your legs.

“you’re wastin’ it…” he grumbles, holding your hips tight.

“not my fault you’re a human cum geyser.” you retort. “now let me get up.”

he pouts, “just…stay like this for awhile?”

“fine, but you’re cleaning me up.” you warn. “happy birthday, you animal.”

a sleepy grin appears on his face as he kisses the top of your head. “yeah, i love you too.”

and so maybe after all, he could learn a lot more about what life has to offer, especially if that means you’d be by his side. there’s nothing he truly wouldn’t fear anymore. not in life or in death.

[opalemo]

homecoming. ✿

the ache of longing, the spark of anticipation, the joy of reunion. the way they greet you at the airport when you finally arrive home.

xiao / childe / scaramouche & gn reader. just sweet happy moments.

xiao

xiao is scared for an entire week leading up to your return. it’s so stupid how he’s afraid of the thing he wants the most, but he has no idea what he’s supposed to do or how he’s supposed to act. does he buy you gifts? clean your room? bring you flowers? does he act normal or extra nice? does he say he missed you? but you already know that… so should he say he loves you more than anything and never wants you to leave without him again?

okay, he probably can’t manage telling you that without combusting on the spot.

as the date draws nearer xiao feels his heart grow lighter in anticipation - the weight of waiting and longing slowly dissipating as the sun rises over the dawn of your arrival.

he can sense you coming before he even lays eyes on you, bobbing in and out among the sea of other people rushing out and celebrating reunions with their loved ones. anxiety gnaws at his thoughts - what if you’re different? what if you’re unhappy to be back? what if you realised you’re actually better off without him?

“hi, xiao.”

your voice is still as beautiful as ever. so are those eyes, your smile, you. he opens his mouth to say sorry for zoning out and for doubting you for no reason but before he can speak, your hands are on his collar and your lips are on his for the first time in what feels like forever.

your fingertips drag softly across his jaw.

“i’ve missed you”.

xiao’s embrace is gentle in spite of his poorly concealed desperation. you, on the contrary, completely fling yourself into his arms. his hands shake with unbridled excitement, unfamiliar euphoria consuming his very being.

unlike the excruciating grip his mind usually has on him, this feeling is so light in every way.

your laugh bubbles against his chest, and he realises how much he missed the sound - the sound of happiness. yours is his, and his is yours.

childe

you’re on high alert, scanning the rows of people left and right for that familiar mop of ginger hair. with the way your heart is pumping you’d think you were more afraid than excited. after all, dating your beloved ajax of all people means you have to be prepared for a jumpscare at absolutely any second. and the fact that you don’t see him anywhere doesn’t disappoint you or make your heart drop. with the way he was counting down the weeks, days, hours to this moment, there’s no way he would forget or even be a second late to pick you up. it just makes you question what the hell he’s up to this time.

you look down at your phone to check the time and whether or not he’s texted you. nothing yet. you scroll through his instagram to see if he’s uploaded anything. nothing.

you only realise your mistake when you look back up again.

slowly turning around, you come to face that cheeky grin, his smile stretched as wide as ever, and you have to try and contain a laugh at his obvious childlike excitement at being able to sneak up behind you.

it sounds cheesy, but you swear the whole world slows down when you’re finally in his arms again.

childe swings you around about five times and proceeds to squeeze the very life out of you (you can’t breathe and this is literally so embarrassing, but you couldn’t care less). he’s here, he’s alive, and he’s still as annoying as ever - just the way you like (love) him.

scaramouche

to any bystander, it would’ve appeared as if he didn’t even miss you. hell, why was he waiting for you at the airport in the first place? did you coerce him into it? threaten to break up with him?

in fact, he thinks to himself, that sounds more like something i would do.

you don’t even need to look for him when you enter the arrivals area - he’s standing at the back near the exit, hood on, headphones in, arms crossed like some wannabe gangster trying to look intimidating. he pretends not to notice you waving (embarrassingly) at him, but you know he does - you know he’s simply overjoyed to see you.

just expresses it in a strange way is all. not that you’re complaining.

“kuni!” you squeal, letting go of your suitcase to jump into his arms. he uncrosses his arms so fast to catch you (and your suitcase which is now rolling away), holding you tight against his chest like you might fall down and disintegrate if he doesn’t. you can’t see his face, but you know he’s trying so hard to contain a blush and a smile right now.

when he finally lets go to take you to his car, he mutters a “will you stop holding onto me or what?” under his breath.

the audacity.

he kisses you when you get in the car.

[irasamu]

 . . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 I WANNA BE YOUR FAVORITE, THE STAR OF YOUR EYES ; a nakahara chuuya fic.❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . bahahaha. smut.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; nsfw, getting it from behind, anxiety and fear of replacement, um semi public in a sense?, angst if you wanna.

suffocating.

the walls feel as if they will crush you and the floor looks like it'll crumble beneath your feet to let you fall for eternity into your own mind filled with doubts and insecurities.

have you ever been someone's favorite yet at the same time never had the position secured only for you as you know there exists many others who are better then you and who can take your position from you with ease?

this is how you feel as you fist your palms yet keep them placed on top of your lap while your makeup artist scanned your face to see if you needed any more touchups or make up done before your shoot starts ; a lingere shoot.

and you tried to focus on preparing yourself to put on a good show for your dear photographer yet how can you when the other staff talked not so discreetly about him? how they mindlessly blabbered about him being a gentleman to one of the other models he was shooting with some days ago where he had helped comfort her as she got overwhelmed due to lord knows what.

it irritates you.

you are his favorite, not that random model who needed comfort and he offered.

yet it irritates you more on how you are letting the harmless gossips of the staff get to you.

you were about to get lost in your thoughts again had it not been for the staff immediately straightening themselves and getting back to doing their respective tasks. he was here.

he had to be. you knew since you've worked many times with him before and every time he stepped inside the studio, the casual air would shift into a more professional one as everyone tried to impress him directly or indirectly.

"is she here yet?" the steady and calm voice which flows like ocean waves yet has a firm undertone reached your ears.

you immediately perked up as you looked at your makeup artist and made sure she was done with you and seeing how eager you looked, your makeup artist sighed before she smiled. your makeup artist nearly laughed at how eagerly you hopped off from the chair, fixing your robe while you rushed towards the camera setup as you are sure he will be there.

there he was.

you slowed down as you grow self conscious and try to adjust your hair even if there was no need to due to as you just got your hair and makeup done almost ten or less minutes ago.

you felt yourself grow timid as you stare at his back. he wore a maroon shirt tucked in black slacks which only seemed to flaunt his small waist.

"nakahara." you softly called as you stood behind him and the man turned to face you, his face immediately brightened at the sight of you.

"my angel. how are you?" chuuya asked and his tone from before lost the authority and firmness, rather he addressed you softly yet you did not reply. your jealousy taking lead and acting for you instead.

"do i look good for you nakahara?" you nearly purr as you step towards the renowned photographer, hugging his arms so your breasts could push against his arm while you did so. you looked up at him with half lidded eyes and moistened your bottom lip with your tongue.

chuuya looked down at you at this question even if he already knew what his answer was going to be, he was not going to let an excuse of checking you out again go to waste. he deemed himself to be quite a opportunist after all.

the way the white thin lingerie hugged your body and flaunted your curves, the way your revealed skin begged him to mark it with his mouth and the way you seductively looked up at him with half lidded eyes -- it all reminded chuuya of how hard it is to control himself from pouncing at you right now.

he is a professional and so are you. the renowned photographer who is sought after the most in the industry and who has made a name and a empire for himself so big, that even with just the sound of his name ; brands and models drop to their knees as they wish for him to handle them.

though what king did not get swayed by a seductress?

no matter how big his empire is, how big his ego and professionalism are, he always found himself bowing down to you ; the little darling who was known in whispers to be his favorite, his treatment towards you being revealed to the others in the industry in secrets.

"divine. like an angel but that's what you are. aren't you angel?" chuuya smiled down at you as he carassed your chin with his knuckles and the way you gulped!

oh, no angel who fell for the devil had experienced a graceful fall from the heaven!

but they say below the heaven is hell anyway and if chuuya is the one who promises to catch you in his arms when you fall, who even cares about the impact?

"oh angel." chuuya breathed out as he looked at you when you smiled, leaning down to kiss your cheek in what would be a friendly gesture but when he leaned up and stared at you so intensely, you knew it was far more then a friendly gesture.

you stare at him after finding him doing so to you as you cannot look away or rather it's as if you don't want to look away, staring into his eyes. you wondered if he shows the same fondness to other models he gets along with though you hope he doesn't.

the small staring contest you two held had come to a halt when one of the staff member yelled and informed you two that the photoshoot will start soon.

"gonna shine like you always do, right angel?" chuuya asked and you nodded. he seemed satisfied with the reaction as he smiled and patted your cheek before he walked past you to meet with the staff and greet them.

you stood for a few moments in absolute stillness and wondered why he made your heart beat in excitement to the point you forgot the reason you rushed to meet him ; to ask him about the incident with the other model a few days ago.

you sigh and turn around to walk towards the set for the photoshoot. you stop as you stand next to chuuya who was busy giving instructions to the photographer who will be his assistant for the entire time, it looks like you won't be getting to converse with him anytime soon.

you look at chuuya before looking ahead at the set which consisted of a king sized bed covered by grey silk bedsheets and curtains behind the bed which were the same grey as that of the bedsheets, the colors were chosen by chuuya himself as he kept you in mind the entire time while he was planning for this project.

that should have been enough to tell you of his fondness towards you but unfortunately it isn't.

"take your position." chuuya ordered and you nodded, immediately sitting on the bed and feeling the cold bedsheets below you which provided a comfortable and soothing sensation when they touched your skin.

chuuya watched with great interest when you placed your palm flat on the bedsheet to let the coolness of it travel all over your palm. he licked his lips when you looked at him and waited for his instructions.

"take it off." his demand sounded lewd enough to make you gulp. you looked around to see if anyone else noticed it but you concluded that it must've sounded normal to others as they didn't have chuuya staring down at them with a glare, looking so focused.

you slowly raise your hands to hook them around the lacey thin robe and you slowly push it down till one side hanged by your elbow.

"good, give me a good pose now." chuuya told as he immediately got ready to click a picture upon getting the desired pose he was imagining. you saw the staff behind him adjusting the light on top of you and you titled your head back a bit, staring at the camera -- no, staring behind the camera at chuuya -- with half lidded eyes.

you heard him mutter some praises but you were more focused on focusing the way he bit down on his bottom lip while clicking pictures. he looked up again and nodded as to tell you to strike a new pose now.

you feel a bit more calm now at his praise and at how he approved of your poses, looking behind him to see some of the staff members as you hoped they heard him and realised you are his favorite but they weren't even looking at you. rather at the screen which displayed your photo taken and they discussed if this is good enough or does it need to be retaken, deciding on the former.

you remove the robe completely, sitting on the silk bed in the white lingere. you climb and take your position on the middle of the bed, sitting on your knees as you cover one of your breasts with your hand in a sensual way yet chuuya pursed his lips, he didn't seem satisfied.

"angel. you can do better then this." his words may have been soft but they still made your heart thumb loudly in your chest in panick, what if he stops favoring you now? does he think you are getting too cocky and not giving it your hundred percent in shoots anymore?

you quickly think of a new pose and straighten your shoulders as you stop covering your breast and rather use that hand to place it on the mattress as some kind of leverage. you lean forwards on on hand as you smile seductively at the camera.

chuuya hummed as he nodded in approval as he began to click a few shots of you again before he told you to change your pose again though you can't help but look at the staff as you see one of them leaning towards the other, are they going to talk about chuuya and that model again?

this time, you leaned back on both of your arms as you spread your legs a bit and you saw chuuya leaning to the side to look at you from behind the camera again, "spread your legs more."

again, you felt yourself getting a bit too excited and bothered at his instruction. you spread your legs apart more but chuuya didn't stop looking at you as if he was searching for some kind of error, when he found it, he approached you and crawled on the bed.

with his knees near your calves, chuuya leaned towards you and adjusted the waistband of your panties. chuuya took this chance to whisper, "you look a bit out of it angel. everything okay?"

you wanted to nod and say everything is fine to see pride flashing in his eyes at how professional you are, you want him to feel proud at you being his favorite yet none of your thoughts become a reality as you shake your head.

chuuya sighs, "knew it. angel eyes, do you want a break? or perhaps it's the staff bothering you?"

chuuya assumed as he had seen the way your eyes would fall on the different staff members every time as you tried to prove your point to them, a point which chuuya isn't completely a stranger to as the man knew of your intense liking to being complimented, especially by him.

you look down to see your hands grabbing the silk bedsheet anxiously as you do not like the small frown on his face while he thought of a solution. though chuuya sensed your sudden melancholy and patted your head, muttering, "don't worry. it's okay. would you perhaps be fine with doing a personal photoshoot with only me or do you want a break?"

you pondered for a while on both the options and settled on the former one. chuuya looked a bit doubtful at your decision but didn't bother speaking out his opinion. he nodded and turned back to signal the staff to leave, even the men who were controlling and adjusting the lights were told to leave. it will be hard for one person to manage everything but when it comes to his work, chuuya can go great and deadly lengths for it.

once he made sure the last staff member left, he walked over to lock the door before he approached you again and sat on the edge of the bed. he sighed before looking at you over his shoulder,

"what's wrong? you are oddly disappointing today angel." chuuya's words stick deep within your soul and wound your heart. you part your lips to speak but no sound leaves your mouth and seeing you in this state, chuuya tsked.

he grabbed your ankle and pulled you closer, turning his body so you would be caged between the mattress and his body.

"what's wrong? i won't ask this again angel. you are really disappointing me because i know you can do better then this half assed shit." chuuya nearly growled as he grabbed your chin with his lithe fingers, his fingers were rough and so was his grip on your chin though that only made you release a shuddering breath.

"you know what you do nakahara. making women fall at your feet and relishing as you know women will spread their legs for you at one comment." you whisper out and chuuya tilted his head as he chose to stare at you for a while before he spoke again.

he might need to motivate you it seems.

"yeah? let's test it." chuuya smirked as he nudged at your thigh with his knee. "spread your legs f'me angel."

he ordered. taking a shaky breath, you slowly part your legs to let him see the damp spot on the panties and chuuya tsked.

"you got this wet by my voice alone?" chuuya mocked. the shame you felt from his words only aroused you more.

"angel you ruined the lingere." he cooed mockingly and pushed his leg towards your pussy and watched how you rocked forwards to feel his knee press against your clit or folds and chuuya sniggered at the pathetic sight. yet he oddly found it alluring.

"nakahara please." you nearly whined out as you support yourself on your arms, leaning near him and wll chuuya did to let you know that he heard your pleas was to pull back his knee before he pushed it against your crotch again.

you let out a loud gasp as your hands desperately grabbed his collar to pull him down and slam your lips against his and with the way chuuya wrapped his arms around the underside of your thighs, it seemed that he is pleased with your action.

chuuya grabs the fat of your ass and turned you around so he would be sitting on the mattress and you would be on your knees, between his legs. you were still tightly holding his collar as you titled your head and moved your lips against his. chuuya's hands came to wrap around your waist and he played with the waistband of your panties while he kissed you.

one of chuuya's hand grabbed your jaw to tilt your head better as he pecked your lips a few times before parting his lips to let his tongue enter your mouth, he licked the roof of your mouth which made you squirm and then began to push his tongue against your own.

his other hand slipped inside your panties and grabbed your ass, squeezing it. he let out a low hum of approval.

you pulled back from the kiss as a string of saliva connected your lips with his. chuuya didn't let you move back much as he grabbed your nape to keep you within close proximity -- the tip of your nose bumping into his -- and he whispered out,

"were you feeling a bit bothered angel face? hm?" chuuya asked in a soft tone as he rubbed your throat with his fingers (as he was holding you in place by your nape). you wanted to shake your head -- you are bothered but not for the reason he had been thinking of -- but you couldn't as chuuya's hand (the one groping your ass) slided lower to feel at the wetness dripping out of your slit.

the tip of his index finger hovered above your slit and he forced you to move down by using your nape to control you. you pant as you feel his finger enter inside you, the strech of his finger on your walls burned as you didn't have enough wetness to ensure his smooth entrance.

"it's okay angel." chuuya whispered, he had noticed your eyebrows furrow in pain and he stopped gripping on your nape to place his palm against your hip, he rubbed your hip in comforting circles as he waited for a bit before he began to pull his finger out of your cunt, pushing it back in.

his hand left your hip to grab your ass again and he pushed you down to spread your legs even more as he gently thrusted in and out with only one finger. afraid of someone finding out if he did use more due to the moans his two fingers will emit from you.

"sir --" the voice of his assistant made chuuya to immediately pull his finger out of you and you quickly moved away from him.

"what?" even you nearly flinched at the low growl that emitted from his throat so you couldnt even imagine how his assistant, the one at whom this angry tone is directed at, must've felt.

chuuya hissed through his nose and looked at you as he sat at the edge of the bed now. he mumbled a curse under his breath along with complaints of his perfect time getting intrupted. he got off from the bed but approached you. he placed his hand against your thigh and leaned down while he used his other hand to lift your chin up, kissing you softly and ordered, "don't make any noise. and wait."

you nodded and he patted your cheek. as he stood up, you saw the evident bulge forming in his pants and you let out a breathless chuckle as you fall behind on the silk bedsheets, this man will be the death of you.

as you wore your robe again incase the staff decided to enter, you made out somewhat of chuuya's conversation with his assistant.

his assistant informed him of a new project with the same model who he has baseless rumors with and you grab at the lacey fabric of your robe, jealous of how often you hear her name whenever it has something to do with chuuya.

chuuya uttered some words which you didn't hear as you are too deep in your inner turmoil to care for your surroundings. though if you did, you would have seen how hard it was for chuuya to conceal his eagerness.

"i need some time alone with angel face over here. take this," chuuya handed his credit card to his assistant a bit too hurriedly as he lowly added in a tone which could be perceived as a partial threat while he leaned near him so his words could be heard loud and clear,

"try to keep everyone out for atleast half an hour and if anyone comes back before the half hour had passed --" chuuya grabbed his manager's wrist to pull him closer to him as he whispered, " -- then not only will you loose your job and won't be able to work anywhere in this industry but i'll also make sure no one from your family can as well. you understand right?"

chuuya leaned back a bit to raise his eyebrows, watching his assistant nodding frantically created some kind of satisfaction deep in his heart. chuuya nodded and with a hum, dismissed the manager and he waited by the door after closing it again.

he waited.

for approximately ten minutes till all the staff left. he turned around with a sigh yet immediately grinned as he watched you saunter towards him as you swayed your hips from side to side while doing so, as if forcing chuuya to acknowledge you and your body now that there isn't any other soul left here.

"angel what's wrong?" chuuya smirked as he asked, watching you stop infront of him as you take off your robe and let it fall by your feet.

"am i your favorite chuuya?" you ask the question that had left a bitter taste on your mouth as they hanged from the tip of your tongue and slipped down only now. you watched chuuya gulp as he had a difficult time in deciding whether to look at your body or your eyes which watched him with a certain nervousness.

a certain nervousness of being replaced.

"of course you are angel, any doubts?" chuuya voice is soft and perhaps this is why you were so lost in it, not realizing when the man took a step closer to you and placed his hands on the waistband of your panties.

"what's troubling your pretty mind angel?" he spoke next to your ear while his hands laid flat against your sides, one of them slided down to caress your hip.

his voice had been so soft and comforting, so gentle that you immediately began to spill your troubles and sadness as you narrated the torturous conversation the staff was having regarding him and the model he offered a bit of humanity to some days ago and of your doubts and fear of being replaced, of him finding it way more fun and pleasurable to work with her and forgetting you and what not.

you spoke so nervously and in such a shaky voice that it made chuuya pout a bit as he continued to listen to you, nodding every few seconds to let you know he was listening attentively. he felt pity and sympathy bubbling in his heart.

he sighed when you finished and raised his other hand to cup your cheek, pulling you closer to him, "such a little angel and such big fears she has." chuuya pouted some more as he pecked your cheeks a few times.

"of course you are my favorite angel, no one else. angel face, how can you even think that someone else can ever take your place huh?" chuuya asked softly as he pulled your face towards his to peck your nose and you wrapped your arms around his neck. "you know no one will amaze me the way you do, right?"

chuuya wrapped his arms around your waist and turned you two around to press your back against the door and he leaned down to kiss your collarbone. "gonna show you just how much i love my favorite angel. my only angel."

chuuya leaned up to peck your cheek and from there his kisses traveled towards your ear. he kissed your earlobe and then gently bit on your ear shell. his hands slided down your sides and rested on your hips, he digged his nails into your hips and used the grip to turn your around. he immediately stepped forwards to press himself against your ass while his hands moved up to hook under the waistline of your panties and he slowly pulled them down, your panties bunched around your knees.

the cold air of the air conditioners hits your bare and wet cunt, it made you shiver but you shivered more when you felt chuuya's hand slide down and push your folds apart as if to make you more vulnerable to the cold air.

"nakahara don't tease. give it to me. you don't know how hard it was for me to sit here and listen to people talk about someone else being your favorite."

"you say it's hard for you yet with the way you --" chuuya slapped your cunt, you jolted but soon calmed down when you heard him unbuckle his belt and pull down his zipper. "-- kept on teasing me says otherwise. but this is why you are my favorite, right? you know how to keep me on my toes for you angel."

chuuya whispered next to your ear before he backed away a bit to take his cock in his hand, he began to stroke himself to get himself more hard so it would be easier to penetrate inside you. he gather a glob of saliva and spitted on his dick as he knew your natural wetness isn't enough lube to enter you without you feeling the burn of his dick stretching his walls.

"tell me i am your favorite again nakahara." you nearly purr out as you wiggle your ass, eager for him to enter. his words served as a confirmation for you to continue acting the way you do with him without worrying about any unnecessary consequences as he made it clear that he likes it. and chuuya laughed softly as he wrapped his arms around your stomach to pull you closer.

"you are my favorite angel face. now bend for me." he hummed as you placed your palms against the door while bending down and with his other hand, he slowly inched his dick closer to your slit. he pulled his hand -- the one wrapped around your stomach -- back and placed it on your back to make you bend more and arch your back.

his teased you by inserting only his tip inside and he pulled that back quickly too, to watch you whine as you look back at him with a pout. you pushed your hips back as you wiggled your ass. chuuya chuckled at your eagerness but he would be lying if he said he wasn't feeling the same and so, he quickly positioned himself at your entrance once again and entered you slowly, letting out a low groan while doing so as your walls seemed to restrict his movements.

he slowly pushed himself deeper till he was bottomed out in you, he allowed you to get used to his familiar stretch. you relaxed soon and moved your hips slightly back to let him know he could move.

there is no time to talk and for foreplay or anything as none of you know when someone from the staff may enter so everything needs to be done quickly but luckily for you, chuuya always had a liking for quickies.

both of chuuya's hands rested on your hips as he pulled your ass up a bit, slowly beginning to pull out and push in his dick due to the lack of lubrication. this wasn't a problem for long as arousal dripped out of you and past his dick at his slow thrusts.

chuuya sighed in relief at this and began to pick up his pace. his fingers pinched the skin of your hips as he gripped them hard. he gradually quickened his pace even more, each thrust making your body jolt forwards. your palms began to get sweaty and nearly slided off the door but chuuya leaned in, he pulled you closer by wrapping an arm around your stomach again.

chuuya looked down to see you biting your lips as to not let your moans spill out and he grinned, he raised his other hand to push you down even more, then he grabbed the back of your thigh and pushed your leg apart as much as he can in this position.

the tip of chuuya's dick rubbed against that one gummy spot, he knew it by the way your breathing came out in quick pants and so he didn't pull back. rather, he tried to push himself deeper into you and moved his hips up and down to rub the head of his dick against your spot. it made your jaw slack open as you let out wheezes and pants.

"everytime you crumble like this in my arms, i can't help but shiver. don't you see how hooked you have me around your little fingers?" chuuya rasped out as he felt his hips twitch, the rubbing of his dick made your walls contract around his length, so even the slightest push and pull felt really good.

you did not speak, your head lowered as you closed your eyes and grabbed his strong arm wrapped around your stomach. you raised his arm towards your neck and chuuya got the hint, he immediately grabbed your nape and pulled you back to let your head rest on his shoulder as he thrusted in and out at a fast pace again and switched it with thrusting till he is bottomed out in you, moving his hips up and down to rub his dick against your g-spot.

chuuya looked down to see your fucked out expression, your eyes were closed and lips were parted to let out silent gasps and pants while a bit of your makeup began to get ruined due to the way you two kissed. the consequence of the kiss stayed in the form of your lipstick smudged all over your mouth.

chuuya dipped his head low to suck at the spot where your ear connected with your neck with an intent to leave a hickey on your skin.

"nakahara. nakahara please make me cum. wanna cum -- only for you and by you." you cry out quietly, your voice came out as a bit raspy and breathless, this made chuuya to gulp as his sucking intensified.

chuuya's other hand came to rest at your thigh, he pushed you back using your thigh and thrusted in again. when his dick touched your g-spot and he began to rub the tip against it again, your breathing went violent. chuuya raised his head, he kissed your nape before he nibbled at a small portion, sucking on it.

he pushed your thigh deeper, his dick abused your spot more frequently. the forces made the knot in your stomach and lower abdomen to tighten. your walls contracted even more against his length, you whined out his name and a feeling of glee traveled down chuuya's chest and towards his stomach, passing by his lower abdomen and in its journey, it pulled down on one end of the knot and said knot snapped.

you jolted a bit as thick and warm ropes of white painted your walls like the waves of a tsunami, chuuya breathed hard and quickly through his nose behind you yet didn't once stop sucking on your nape till he made sure it left a stubborn hickey which won't come off for atleast a few days.

your walls felt warm and sticky yet there was no fear of getting impregnated as you always make sure to take birth control pills, knowing of chuuya's habit of liking to finish inside you -- whether raw or not.

the sticky feeling due to his cum and how he clumsily thrusted in you to ride off his high felt hot, the sudden attractiveness of hearing chuuya grunt isn't new to you yet this is what pulled on your knot and made you cum.

chuuya rested his forehead against your nape, he thrusted in you slowly and lazily till you stopped shaking. he slowly pulled out and looked down to see both of your cums mixing and dripping down your thighs.

"what a pretty sight you are angel." chuuya breathed out and turned you around, he cupped your jaw and tilted your head up to peck your lips. he worked quietly yet it didn't feel shameful to watch him clean you and the floor as your and his cum dripped down on the floor. he had ordered his assistant to get you the same piece of lingere with a excuse that he accidentally tore the one you are wearing now while adjusting your pose, telling he would pay for the 'damage' he inflicted on the one you are wearing now.

"you really are my favorite though." chuuya told softly as he sat on the edge of the bed, next to you. you nodded as you smiled, crawling towards him and sitting on his thigh. chuuya smiled and carassed your nape where he left a hickey on you and bumped your nose with his.

"i want to remain as your favorite -- your only favorite." you mumble out as you lean in to peck his lips again, chuuya hummed as he leaned in to kiss you again, "you are the star of my eyes angel. my only pretty angel."

"you know how to use your tongue in many ways and somehow you are a expert in all of them, aren't you nakahara?" you murmur as you lean in to softly kiss him again.

"yeah? let me take you out for dinner tonight angel and i'll show you just how good my tongue is."

"you are asking me out on a date?" you tilt your head with a amused smile, chuuya grinned as he nodded and how could one say no to him under whose steps many bow, hoping he would cast just a few seconds of his attention to them.

and luckily for you, you always sat at the throne chuuya prepared for you himself. always the first and perhaps the only one to get his attention and affection.

"you either say yes or i'll pick you up forcefully and take you out." chuuya nuzzled his nose against your jaw, smiling as you snickered. he pecked the underside of your jaw when you muttered a yes, his hands wrapped around your waist tightly yet gently as he did not want you to get up and get away from his vicinity.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

a little self-indulgent, but may I request Full headcanons of M6 reacting (and accommodating?) to MC who's easily jealous and possessive due to their trauma? (for example, MC got cheated on before and now they can't bear the thought of M6 doing the same to them, if it makes sense.)

thanks!

The Arcana HCs: When MC struggles with jealousy

Julian

Cheating simply Does Not Occur to him. It doesn't enter his mind

Seriously. He doesn't doubt his capacity to be attractive, but for such a complicated person, experiencing love is a straightforward matter for him. He loves you. Why bother with anything else?

Of course, if it's a source of pain for you, then it's a concern for him too. He's had his fair share of unhealthy relationships and isn't in the dark about just how badly cheating will mess someone up

He's also the type to overthink things, so once you bring it up as your own issue, he's naturally taking it on as his issue too

He wouldn't! ... but now he's going to go out of his way to prove to himself that he's not the kind of person who would

It also drives the point home to him just how precious it is to have your trust (and why he really should have never tried to briefly dump you on the docks). That did need some discussing

In general, he's so transparent and talkative with you that there's nobody in his life you don't know about. If he has a high opinion of them, he's already trying to get you two to be friends as well

And if you ever worry that someone else is better for him, he will take that as a challenge to outdo your sense of unworthiness /j

Asra

They would never. You know this. They know this. Every citizen in Vesuvia knows this. The major Arcana know this

But the horrible thing about traumas and fears is that they don't have to be rational to hurt you, and Asra knows that too

Your relationship actually went through quite the rough patch with this at first. Asra's plenty familiar with heartbreak, but he doesn't have a jealous bone in his body and struggles to understand it

What's more, their own traumas make them practically allergic to feeling controlled or trapped in any way, which doesn't help their love of being mysterious and unpredictable

Which, of course, only fed your anxieties, and in turn left him easily triggered if you tried to get a solid answer out of him about what he'd been up to all day on his spontaneous solo side quests

What's most important, though, is that they love you with everything they are, and they're dedicated to helping you heal and being the best partner they can as they build a happy life with you

It's a catalyst for both of you to confront and work through your traumas together - your jealousy, and his fear of constancy

They do find telling you all about their day is actually lots of fun

Nadia

She is so glad you're bringing this up

Would she ever cheat? Absolutely not. She takes relational boundaries very seriously and what she has with you is a kind of love and safety and closeness she's waited for her whole life

However, while she and Lucio never cheated on each other, they did have an open marriage which meant other lovers were in the picture, and knowing you're not comfortable with that is important

She will happily get into the nitty gritty of past grievances and unsatisfying relationships and the details of every boundary

She also strongly values your sense of safety and security with her, and if there's any little things she can do to equip you to battle your demons, she will happily do them. Just tell her what helps

However, it is also very important to her to clarify that your jealousy is your situation talking and not a slight on her character

Because if it helps you heal to see her be transparent with you, she'll practically become glass, but if you start questioning her own intentions and moral code, you're not giving her space to do right

Can and will set things up so you can watch her beat down anybody flirting with her in real time (and kiss you afterwards)

Muriel

Cheating is an entirely foreign concept to him and the fact that someone would actually do that is completely horrifying to him

He is so, so sorry you had to find out what that was like

He's also baffled about how that could even happen. In his case, you're the first person he's even considered having a relationship like this with. Who else would he even want to be with?

The first time you express any insecurity or jealousy about him specifically, he's a little thrown. Just the thought of betraying you like that disgusts him, do you really distrust him that much?

Of course, that's his own traumas and insecurities affecting him, and he knows better than anyone how poor past experiences make him fear hurt from his loved ones which he knows they'd never do

If you have the patience to soothe him when he flinches from your sudden movements or unexpected happy shouts, he easily has the patience to reassure you of your importance and safety with him

He'll also hold a grudge even bigger than yours against whoever gave you that relational trauma. In his mind, they have a reserved spot right next to Lucio in the not-fun part of the afterlife

Still doesn't know who else would find him desirable anyways

Portia

Oh, she gets it. She doesn't necessarily experience this to the level that you do, but she certainly relates on multiple counts

Feeling left behind by a loved one and struggling not to be insecure about it? Check. It's why she's so free to steal Julian's kneecaps

Feeling like she's just the good option people pick until they find their ideal option? Feeling like it's just a matter of time until she gets dropped again, no matter how well-meaning that person is?

Yeah, she gets you. Not to mention that it's a little hard not to compare herself to the incredible people you're friends with who would all clearly love to be the focus of your affections

The fact that you feel this too is such a relief. You two are about to spend so many hours on her couch with tea and baked treats while you talk about your similar experiences and unpack those feelings

And honestly, hearing you voice your doubts gives her space to voice hers. You can be open about how she's clearly the Countess's favorite and she can be open about your past roommate setup

If either of you finds it just a little bit attractive when you get to flaunt your relationship at ambassador events when another partygoer gets a bit too friendly - well - it's a guilty pleasure

Lucio

Look, he knows he's not a shining example of a model citizen, but he wouldn't disrespect the boundaries of someone he loves

At the same time, his assumptions about what those boundaries are aren't exactly monogamous. Will he be in a closed, exclusive relationship with you if those are your boundaries? Absolutely!

Will he need you to explicitly tell him that those are your boundaries? Also yes. Otherwise he might randomly ask how you feel about inviting a new friend to go on a date with you two

He's still working on his emotional intelligence, too, so the chances of him understanding the relational trauma aspect of that are slim

However, he understands the insecurity. You could leave him tomorrow and as heartbroken and betrayed as he'd feel, deep down he wouldn't be able to find it in himself to blame you

The last thing he wants to make you feel is less than or unworthy. You are worth so, so very much and you deserve only the best

Because he's still learning new habits, accountability is something he finds as uncomfortable as he does necessary and while he doesn't need it in this area, he still values it

Still needs reassurances that you don't think he'd actually do that

[coff33andb00ks]

20 Oscar

20: pressing the other’s hand against their cheek

warnings: author doesn't understand the meaning of the word "short" and (badly written) descriptions of a wreck during a race (no injuries)

driver + number = drabble/short fic <3

Piastri just doesn't give a fuck.

Oscar is just too chill.

Does he ever show emotion except when he's laughing at Lando?

You try to stay out of comments. Hell, you try to stay off social media, it's nothing but a cesspool of people with too much time on their hands and not enough brain cells to comprehend more than the surface level of what they're shown. But sometimes you like it, because there are creative people who put out beautifully edited videos of your boyfriend. Sometimes you show them to him, enjoying his giggling while he watches and shakes his head over someone finding him attractive enough to warrant a thirty second video set to a Rihanna song.

But the comments about his emotionless black cat behavior hurt. He's so much more than how he portrays himself. He's vibrant and so full of life, and you will forever appreciate the people who see beyond his social anxiety and notice his amazing sense of humor, his passion for racing and life. They'll never know the real him and will probably never understand why you fell in love with him.

Him. The sweet and shy guy who'd come to your defense when a rude customer had been berating you over a wrong order. His voice had cut over her yelling, calm and measured, and after your manager had kicked out the irrationally angry woman it had been Oscar that had approached you to check on you, frowning when he saw your tears. His gentle tone had calmed you, his respectful stance had won your admiration, and his calling the woman a fucking cunt had made you smile.

You wish you could defend him as he continues to defend you. When a video questioning how a nobody like you had bagged a formula one rookie had gone somewhat viral he'd taken to twitter and unleashed such a beautifully worded rant that people were still quoting it more than a year later.

It's come to my attention that some so-called fans are referring to my girlfriend as a nobody. Allow me to introduce her to you. She's funny, she's brilliant, she's beautiful. She's every word you can think of to describe the perfect person and she's so much more. She shines light in the darkest corners of my soul. Her eyes are a map of my universe. When you look at us together, know that I am constantly trying to be worthy of the love she gives me, and know that if you speak ill of her you will never have my respect but you will have my disgust.

You would never ever doubt his love for you. Not that you ever had but that had cemented it. You could never come to his defense in such a way. If you even tried you'd be sneered at for being a try hard.

And really, you didn't need to. Because the one thing Oscar did not give a fuck about was anyone's opinion. Only a handful of people mattered enough to him for him to care what they thought. You were blessed to be included on that list.

You love him so much that for a while it scared you, having never fallen into the this one person is my moon and stars mindset. But now you understand. He didn't just hang them, he is your moon and stars. Your one and only and if for some reason this doesn't end in forever you'll be ruined for any other man.

It was still a shock, though, when you felt your heart stop beating as you watched his car careen towards the barrier. The front wing clipped Max's rear tire and you can't breathe, watching in slow motion as the brightly colored car tips and lifts into the air. There is nothing but absolute silence around you in the McLaren garage and you're frozen, staring at the monitor while his car flips and rolls, carbon fiber flying in every direction when it lands upside down, his helmet just visible as it slides to a stop at the safety fence.

Silence. Then pandemonium. Your world has just flipped and spun and you can't breathe, ears straining to hear him but you can only hear the crackle of the radio when Zak and Tom try to get him to respond.

Then, finally, his voice. Shaken and scared. "Are they okay? Please tell me they're okay."

Of course he'd ask after the others involved. You can finally breathe but it hurts, not knowing that he's okay. And you can't do anything but wait, heart barely beating until he's finally out, he's moving, he's giving the fans a thumbs up as he's put on the stretcher. You still can't do a thing and you've never felt more useless than you do while you're waiting just inside the medical center with Zak and Lando, who'd come to wait during the red flag.

Then the most beautiful words you've ever heard.

"He's okay."

There's more after that, about him being transported to the local hospital for a complete check, the possibility of a concussion but he's okay. And you're allowed to go see him while the ambulance is readied.

He's sitting up, looking a little pale but he's not hurt, he's in one piece, and when he sees you he gasps. You try to be gentle when you embrace him, but he steals your breath, holding you so tightly it hurts, his face pressed into your neck.

"They won't tell me - are Max and George okay?" His voice is strained and you feel his tears.

"They're fine, my love," you promise.

"I didn't mean for it to happen, I don't know what I did. I was going good and then I was upside down." His voice shakes and cracks and he's trembling, one hand fisting in your shirt. You reach for the other.

"Shh shh... It's okay my love," you whisper, your tears finally spilling when he guides your hand up, holding it to his cheek as he lets out a shaky breath. "Everyone's okay, you're okay."

His eyes meet yours and your world rights itself.

[jadewritesficshere]

Slow and Steady

Steve Harrington x female!reader

Summary: You're ready for your first time with your boyfriend but are nervous based on past experiences. Steve is determined to make you feel good (3-5k words my computer broke around 1500 so I finished this on Tumblr dont know exact word count)

Contains: pure smut, reader has vaginismus (not explicitly named in the fic), talks of anxiety/nerves/doubt, fingering, cumplay, p in v, no condoms please wrap it up, creampie, pet names (Steve calls you Baby)

please note I am not a doctor. This is based on how sex is for me, not every two experiences are the same

18+ only

You sigh in pleasure. Steve is kissing your jaw, sucking lightly at your pulse that's beating wildly for him. You can feel a rush of tingling warmth spread from your spine to your lower stomach. Your hands roaming up and down his shoulders, trying to memorize the contours of his muscles. The way his hand squeezes your hip as if you would drift away if he let go.

Steve sighs, pressing his forehead into your cheek before giving you a final kiss and starting to pull back. You whine, gripping his biceps. "Steve don't! Plea- keep going!" You aren't sure you're fully making sense as your thoughts are only Steve Steve Steve. "Baby, I don't want to get carried away without talking first," Steve cups the side of your face with his hand, thumb lightly moving back and forth over your cheekbone.

"I want to make sure you're ready," Steve says looking deep into your eyes. You look away, feeling ashamed. You shouldn't be, you know this. But that doesn't stop that feeling from welling up.

You remember the first time you had sex, how much it hurt. But people told you that was normal, that it's better the next time because you weren't a virgin anymore. But that time hurt like hell too. And the next. And the next. Like you were being ripped apart, like there was something wrong.

And then your doctor told you the name of it and how some women had it. Said there were ways to work around it and work through it, but it was like cotton in your ears. All you heard was there was something wrong with you. You know there isn't, but your deceitful mind tells you there is. And now you tense up as things start to progress, making things worse unintentionally. All you could think was, 'well no one would want to work through it since no one else has before.'

But then Steve came in and tore all your defenses down. Weasled his way in with stupid pickup lines and free car rides. Rolled his eyes and gave you a 'are you seeing this?' look as he bickered with the kids before sighing dramatically and giving them what they wanted. Would wear a stupid apron when he cooked and would sneak food off his plate onto yours to make sure you had enough. You didn't stand a chance.

When Steve made out with you for the first time you wanted to cry. Thought "well this is it. He's going to leave like the rest after this." But when you stopped him, he didn't pout. He didn't roll his eyes or gripe at you, claim you led him on. Didn't try to force the issue. Steve took your no as a no and asked no questions, just pulled back smiled at you with a bulge in his pants and asked if you wanted to choose the movie now.

You broke down in tears as he tried to comfort you. And you told him everything. About how it hurt and had never been enjoyable for you. How you were scared it would hurt again. How you really liked Steve and wanted to do it with him but didn't want to disappoint him like the others. How you didn't want him to leave like the others.

And Steve let you cry into his shirt. And Steve calmed you and told you, "I'm sorry they never took care of you the way you deserve to be taken care of. If you never want to have sex, we don't have to. I love you regardless of sex, I mean yeah it would be fun and I'd like to, but like- if you aren't having a good time I don't want to do it. If you do want to try, Baby, we can take it really slow. Slow and steady. But I don't want you to feel pressured to have sex, we don't need it. If you want it we can and if you never want it we don't have to."

It was like a balm to your soul. Aloe vera on a burn you didn't realize still stung. Just knowing Steve cared enough to not call it quits made you feel desired. But that little lying voice in your head said he'd get upset and move on.

But months passed and Steve stayed. Lovely, caring Steve. Steve who held your hand and proclaimed it was a perfect fit. Steve who kissed you so sweetly, following your lead. Steve who never protested or became frustrated when you stopped things from furthering on. Steve who would help you slip your shirt back on and hold you close after making out. Steve who never once complained about "leading him on" like others have.

Steve who was the first to say," I love you," and never pushed you to say it back. Steve who bought your favorite books and tried to read them so he could have another bond with you. Steve who always knew what to say to brighten your day. The Steve who showed he loved you in every little way he cared for you.

A hand on your face snaps you back to the moment. Steve frowns slightly," You okay? You went somewhere for a minute." You shrug," Got lost in my thoughts." Steve's eyes bore into your own, as if trying to see into your mind. "If you want to stop here, we can-" "No!" You interrupt, running a hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck.

Steve pauses, waiting on you. "I want to continue. I'm just...nervous? They say relax, but then how do they expect me to relax when I know how its been in the past? And then I get tense because I'm nervous and then I'm nervous because I'm tense and then-" Steve cuts you off with a kiss. Your eyes flutter shut as he gently kisses you. It's so tender and sweet, you can practically feel the cavities forming from how sweet it is.

Steve pulls back enough to say," If anything is uncomfortable or hurts you tell me okay? If you want to stop then you say it." You nod but Steve clicks his tongue," I need your words Baby." "Yeah, okay."

Steve kisses your forehead, murmuring an "I love you". He leans back enough to help you pull your dress off and over your head. "Fuck me," he whispers, mouth falling open. Any thoughts of cowering or hiding yourself melt away as his eyes further light up with lust. "Planning to," You grin.

Steve snorts as he laughs, shaking his head slightly before ripping his shirt off. You bite your lip as you look at Steve unabashedly. Usually you try to sneak peeks, like when he lifts his shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead after a run. But now you can just look. You tentatively run a hand through his chest hair, causing him to shiver.

"Now here's what we're gonna do," Steve lightly palms himself over his jeans, groaning before speaking with a raspier tone," I'm going to take such good care of you. You're gonna take your underwear off and-"

You push your underwear down, kicking them off. Steve's jaw goes slack as he stares at your glistening cunt. "That all for me?" Steve asks. "All for you. I want you," You reach a hand out and press against his bulge, causing him to let out a whine before he grips your wrist. "Get comfortable Baby."

You lay back against the bed, relaxing into the pillows. "Now, you're gonna finger yourself." Steve instructs. You scoff," Didn't you just say you were gonna take care of me?" Steve smirks as he grabs your hand," Oh I will, but look," He holds his palm against yours," My fingers are so much bigger then yours."

It's shocking how big his hands are compared to yours. His fingers are longer and thicker then yours. You can feel yourself get wetter at the thought, but also a hint of nerves come back.

As if Steve has a glimpse into your mind, he slowly runs a hand up your shoulder to cup your face," There's no rush. I can do this all night. Slow and steady, remember?" Steve leans in and kisses you softly. You sigh into the kiss, slowly melding your mouth against his. The tip of his tongue traces your lip, leaving you begging for more.

Steve pulls back enough to whisper," Touch yourself," before trailing kisses to your jaw and neck. You can't suppress the shiver that runs through you as he hits that one spot. Steve lightly sucks on your neck as you slowly trail a hand down.

Your trembling (from nerves, excitement, or pleasure you can't tell) fingers slowly part your lips. You can feel how wet you are, starting to drip onto your thighs and under you. You slowly circle your clit, relaxing at the feeling of pleasure taking over. You moan softly as Steve continues to pepper your neck with kisses.

You lower your hand further, fingers tracing your entrance. You coat your fingers with your slick before slowly pushing your middle finger in. It doesn't hurt at the moment, but feels uncomfortable. Your brow furrows slightly, concern starting to come back. Steve is there though, kissing your forehead until you relax and using one of his large fingers to deftly circle your clit.

You pump your finger in and out, discomfort dissipating each time until you're reveling in the feeling. "There ya go," Steve murmurs reverently as your mouth falls open at how good it feels. Steve wraps his hand around your wrist, causing you to whine as he pulls your hand away.

Steve maneuvers your hand so only two fingers remain up before guiding them back to your pussy. "There you go Baby. Doing so well," Steve praises as you slowly insert the two fingers. It takes a second to adjust, to get used to the feeling.

But Steve distracts you by kissing down your chest. He reaches behind you and unsnaps your bra with one hand, the other grabbing your wrist and guiding you into a faster pace.

You let the bra straps fall down your arms, laying loosely. Steve peels your bra down and groans as your breasts sway slightly. "So fucking gorgeous," Steve groans," Doing so good." You don't even have a chance to warn him as you tumble over the edge of pleasure. You moan and gasp as you writhe against your hand. His tongue feels electrifying as he circles it around your nipple, finger circling your clit again.

You can barely hear Steve saying," That's my girl. Doing so well Baby." Your mouth is hanging open as you take in deep breaths. Warmth, euphoria, and ecstasy flow through your body freely. You come back to your body slowly, aware of Steve holding you hand, his thumb moving back and forth caressing your hand.

"My turn to touch you Baby," Steve growls out. You blink up at him a few times, still coming back down to earth. You nod as you remove your fingers. They glisten in the light from your wetness. Steve inhales sharply before darting forward, licking your fingers. You aren't sure if it was you or him who gasps, but Steve's mouth is suddenly surrounding your fingers.

Steve sucks and licks the wetness off your fingers. His eyes flutter shut as he moans. You can feel yourself getting more turned on as you watch Steve. Steve blearily opens his eyes, still sucking on your fingers. His eyes heavy with lust.

You gasp as Steve trails a finger through your folds, coating them in your release. Steve pulls off your fingers with a sudden pop, lips glistening from spit and cum. "You taste so fucking good Baby. Can't wait until I can bury my face in your pussy," Steve slowly inserts a finger as he speaks," But we'll save that for next time okay?"

His finger is definitely bigger then yours. It is slightly uncomfortable, but not painful. Steve redirects your attention by circling your nipple with his tongue again. With his free hand, he caresses and pulls the nipple he is currently not kissing and sucking on.

Steve adds a second finger once he's felt you fully relax against him. Once he's seen the unconscious tension in your shoulders go away. When he sees the clench of your jaw and your furrowed brow relax. Steve knows you have no clue you are doing this, but he is attentive and sees the signs.

When Steve adds a third finger is when you sharply inhale. Steve immediately pauses," Too much? What do you need?" "Just give me a minute," You try to steady your breathing. It doesn't hurt but it doesn't not hurt. It's a pressure and a pinch and pain but not the worst pain you've ever felt.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, looking away. "For what?" Steve frowns and grasps your chin, forcing you to look at him," Baby, it's okay! I can spend all day here with you- i want to spend all day with you. It doesn't bother me that this takes time. I love you. You're worth it. You're like everything to me. You should enjoy this too, not just me."

You can feel the tears start to form but you blink them away. You lean forward and kiss Steve again. He hums slightly against you before deepening the kiss. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, pulling moans and gasps from you. You barely notice Steve moving his hand again, pumping his fingers in and out of you.

When Steve pulls back, his lips are swollen and his face flushed," Do you think you are ready or do you want me to add another finger?" You pause for a moment to think before whispering," I'm ready, just...go slow?" Steve smiles and kisses your forehead," I can do that. That's my middle name." You giggle as Steve blinks at you," That was dumb forget i said that."

He removes his fingers and you can feel yourself clench at the loss. But your heart beat picks up in anticipation as Steve finally sheds his boxers.

Steve can't help but smirk as your jaw drops. Steve is big. Bigger then you expected him to be. There's a prominent vein you want to lick, follow all the way up to the flushed tip. There is pre-cum leaking from the top. You can see at least one freckle near the base, and another on one of his balls.

Steve crawls over you, hovering above. "You ready?" He asks, eyes staring into yours. You nod. "Want to hear your pretty voice Baby," Steve threads his hand in yours. "Ready as I'll ever be," You grin shakily.

Steve positions himself at your entrance. "Hold onto me, okay?" Steve inhales and slowly exhales. You run your hands up his shoulders to the column of his neck before threading a hand through his hair.

You squeeze his hand tight as the tip of his penis enters you. "I got you, I'm sorry," Steve murmurs as he squeezes his eyes closed. "Don't be," you gasp. It isn't painful like it has been in the past. It's a stretch, slightly uncomfortable, but not painful.

Steve murmurs praises once he's seated fully in you. You exhale slowly as you get used to the feeling. Any further nerves and tension slowly goes away. You feel so good. Full. You lean forward barely touching Steve's lips with yours. Steve chases you, enveloping your mouth with his.

"Please move Steve," you whisper in between kisses. He nods. Steve slowly moves out, it makes you want to weep at the loss, but he's suddenly filling you again.

You gasp in pleasure. It's never been like this. Felt so good. "Fuck," you gasp out, nails scratching against Steve's shoulder. He grabs your leg and positions it around his hip, driving deeper into you," Yeah, we are."

You would chuckle, but you can barely think straight. Warmth spreads throughout your limbs. Pleasure. Ecstasy. You moan wantonly as you writhe against Steve as your orgasm overtakes you. Steve squeezes your hand in his, grounding you into this moment, as he presses his forehead to yours.

Every breath you exhale, Steve inhales, and vice versa. His weight pressed against you, holding you close. His hips stutter against yours, you feel his warm wet seed paint the inside of your walls. You are wholly consumed by Steve.

You slowly come back to your senses, to Steve kissing your neck. You hum slightly, pulling back to look at him. "That was...amazing," you smile at him. Steve grins back before kissing you once more," Let me get something to clean you up, I'll be right back."

You feel empty as Steve pulls out, a slight sting at the loss that dissipates quickly. Your combined release spills out of you as Steve stands up. Steve's jaw drops slightly at the sight, stomach muscles twitching as his cock kicks back up in interest.

Steve shakes his head and returns to the task at hand. He heads into the attached bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and running it through warm water. When he returns, he carefully cleans you. You shift uncomfortably from the unexpected texture against your sensitive skin.

As soon as Steve is done, he tosses the washcloth towards the hamper. He scowls as he misses, causing you to laugh. He crawls into bed next to you," Foul play, I was distracted." "Oh?" "Mmhmm" Steve covers you with a blanket and pulls you into his side.

You curl into Steve, hand resting against his chest. You can hear his steady heart beat. You absent-mindedly trace letters on his skin. "I love you," you murmur. You pause, waiting for a response.

Your brow furrows and you lift your head to look at Steve, who remains silent. You snort out a laugh. Steve's eyes are closed and his jaw slack as he breathes through his mouth. Dead asleep as you confess your love for him. You grin as you kiss his pec, laying your head back down.

You'll tell him again when he wakes. And again that evening. And again. And again. And-

[lvlyghost]

Heyyy 🤗🤗 I just discovered your blog but after binge reading almost all your writings I just have to request something cause I love your writing style so much

How bout a ghost x reader where he has a nightmare about losing the reader could be angst to fluff to smut

Midnight Rain

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: Bad dreams were not strange to Simon, but ever since you came into his life there's one thing he feared the most: losing you.

Word Count: 1.0k

Tw: smut! But nothing too explicit. self-doubt, angst, comfort. Poorly edited. you know the drill.

A/N:I'm so sorry this took so long to get out but life happened 🥲 I wish it was longer and far better i hope you like it.💛🩵 also since i got two similar requests decided to make one for both🥰✨

Masterlist✨

He doesn't scream when he jolts awake from his bed. It's always like that. The dreams. The nightmares. Simon was cursed, tragedies seemed to plague his life on a daily basis that's why he was so adamant about letting you in at first.

Slipping off the bed he fights the way his heart is racing nearly beating out of his chest. The clock marks the time.

5:31 A.M

The sky is gray outside the soft morning rain tapping against the window reminds him that he's supposed to be at Price's office by six.

Yet his mind is purely set on you. On that horrific imagery of his nightmare. He knew that the possibilities of it happening were high, and it didn't help to stop his growing anxiety. To think of someone so small and fragile, dead and without possibilities... fucking hell he knew you were capable of many things. He knew about your strength, resilience. Yet he had a strong sense of protection when it came to you. Death was something he couldn't keep you safe from, thought he'd die trying. Simon would happily trade your life for his if it were in his power.

'Just let it be me not her. Never her.'

Needless to say he didn't get any proper rest. He was thankful for the mask and face paint covering his face, otherwise anyone could see the tiredness in his features.

But you knew better.

You always knew better.

Always seeing through him.

You're laughing at something Johnny's saying, he couldn't attend training this morning so he hadn't had the time to talk to you. And then the sight of you getting shot appears in the back of his mind agains, your body falling limply to the ground next to him.

Dead.

On his watch.

He shifts his weight from one foot to another, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

All the bloody morning his head has been spinning. Unable to get a grip on reality, Simon forces himself to turn away.

You watch from the other side, smile faltering. Why hadn't he joined you? You were about to wave at him. Maybe he didn't want Johnny to be there... Simon was a private man and he wanted to keep a low profile regarding your relationship so you decide to follow him, saying a quick good-bye to your teammate and trotting after Simon.

The door to his office is closed, knocking twice then waiting a second and you knock again.

He doesn't respond to you but you open the door nonetheless. You poke your head enough for him to see you.

"Hey..." you greet him with a warm smile. Simon breathes deeply. "Didn't come to say hello today." You point out, closing the door behind you. He looks down where he's signing a stack of papers.

"Didn't want to interrupt." He gruffly answers.

"Come on..." you reply. "It was just Johnny and I... everything alright?" You question him. The grip on his pen is painfully hard to the point his knuckles turn white.

"Jus' busy, that's all."

Something's not right. You take a deep breathe and walk towards him until you're standing next to his chair. Simon doesn't look up nor acknowledges your presence.

"Simon..." you try again.

Suddenly in a swift movement he's standing up, grabbing you by the arm and leading the two of you out of the office and to his room. You don't say anything you just let him guide you. Whatever it was you'd work it out. He locks the door once you're both inside, his big calloused hands grabbing you by your cheeks. His eyes are frantic, bouncing from your lips and back to your orbs. As if trying to remember the sight of you before him, the sight of you in his room.

"Talk to me. Please...." it's a soft plea. You know him, you recognize the sadness in his honeyed eyes. You know despair when you see it.

"I can't lose you." His voice shakes, as does he. His hands are trembling, buzzing with worry.

"You're not gonna lose me, Simon..." your own hands, much smaller than his come to rest above them. "I'm right here." A brief moment of silence passes by, until he releases a shaky breath, he retreats enough to slip the fabric of his mask off. It was getting hard to breathe for him. "Come with me... please."

You drag him to the bed, motioning for him to sit down you help him unlace his boots then you do the same with yours.

He lays back as do you, Simon brings you closer to his body wrapping one arm around you. Hand tracing soft circles on his chest, hearing the rhythmic beat of his heart underneath you.

"You were dead." He begins. "Right in front of me and I couldn't stop it," your motions stop. Brows knitting together. "I...-" he trails off. "I'm nothing if I can't keep you safe."

"Simon don't ever say that again." You scold him. Tears gather in the corner of your eyes. "Don't you dare think such things."

Standing you're quick to straddle his lap, strong arms hold you close to his body. You slam your lips to his, Simon welcomes the warmth of your mouth against him. Your hands caress the back of his head, fingers threading through his blond locks. He hardens under your body and murmur something into your ear. Something that sends you over the edge. Soon, your pants are discarded on the white floor, he lets you ride him, merely looking at your eyes never leaving your face. If he could capture this moment he'd do it. He'll save it for the rest of his life. Treasure it. Wrapping your arms around his shoulder you kiss him hard. You're so close your mind is in a haze, and when he grits his teeth you know he's close too. The pure adoration in his eyes is enough. There'll never be anyone after him.

"You're stuck with me."

His lips curve into a barely-there-smile.

"Yeah..." he gasped. "Jus' keep looking at me, love. And stay with me."

As if you could ever say no to him.

[anneapocalypse]

Demands of the Qun, or How the Inquisitor's Choice Answers the Iron Bull's Most Important Question

I was having a chat about the Iron Bull and his personal quest with some friends and one person said in response to something I said that I should make it a Post, so here it is! And a usual disclaimer: this is not about which in-game decision is "correct"--it's an RPG, there's no wrong way to play the game. I just want to talk about the meaning of this decision for Bull's character and for his future.

Dragon Age: Inquisition’s “Demands of the Qun” is, for me, one of those quests where the RPG format of “player character makes major decision for companion character” really works. I do not see this as an example of game mechanics taking away agency from an NPC. I think Bull has agency in this situation.

The Chargers are not Inquisition soldiers. They are mercenaries, and Bull is their commander. If the Inquisitor makes a call he doesn't like, he is free to say "Screw you" and take his people and leave, because they are not soldiers, they're independent contractors, so leaving isn't desertion, it's just quitting. If he were already certain he wanted to leave the Qun, he could simply call the retreat himself, take the Chargers and leave. Similarly if he were certain of his loyalties and willing to sacrifice the Chargers for that purpose, he could do that, regardless of what the Inquisitor says.

He lets the Inquisitor make this choice.

The Iron Bull has had one foot out the door of the Qun for a long time now. But he's gone back and gone back, submitted himself for re-education and done his best to keep serving the Qun, because he believes he needs the Qun. To him, becoming Tal-Vashoth means losing himself, his identity, his purpose, his very sanity, and as the Fade tells us in "Here Lies the Abyss," this is quite literally his greatest fear. Bull could never bring himself to leave the Qun with nowhere to go instead, nothing to give his life purpose and meaning—and no one to entrust himself to should he doubt his own sanity.

But in his work in the south, the Iron Bull has found community and identity and purpose outside the Qun. The very name he has given himself speaks to that, as does his close relationship to the Chargers.

Right from the beginning, there is tension in "Demands of the Qun." Bull remarks that he's gotten used to the Qunari being "over there" during his life in the south. I think Bull has a very potent anxiety when he meets Gatt again on the Storm Coast, and introduces him to the Inquisitor and their party. To me, it very much has the vibes of introducing two friend groups, where you're not only pretty sure they won't get along, but you're also very aware that they know very different sides of you—and neither of them are going to like seeing the other side. Bull's discomfort is visible both when Gatt speaks freely about Bull's work in the Ben-Hassrath, and when the Inquisitor's other companions make disparaging remarks about the Qun. His two worlds have collided, calling into conflict two sides of his sense of self that he has thus far managed to avoid confronting.

And this is likely part of the point. The Qun does not truly respect alliances with any outside the Qun. I wouldn't say for sure that the Qunari set up this whole situation just to test Bull—it's possible they knew exactly how many Venatori would show up, but they couldn't have known precisely how the Inquisition would respond. That, and their desire to root out the Venatori is no doubt sincere. But I do think they are watching Bull's actions very closely throughout this proposed alliance, gauging his loyalty. Gatt tells him outright that many already believe he has betrayed the Qun.

Bull's internal conflict quickly becomes an external one when the Venatori reinforcements show up, and Bull is faced with the decision of whether to withdraw the Chargers or defend the dreadnought at the cost of their lives.

The thing is, Bull is not neutral on this. He tells the Inquisitor what he wants. He wants to save the Chargers. If the Inquisitor says that the Chargers still have time to retreat, Bull agrees. When Gatt tells him they need to hold position, he says in a low, intense tone, "They're my men."

And then, when Gatt tells him in no uncertain terms that calling the retreat will make him Tal-Vashoth, the Iron Bull looks to the Inquisitor.

Again, he is not neutral. He knows what he wants. He is standing there basically begging the Inquisitor with his eyes to save his boys.

So why doesn't he just make the call himself?

Because just as this whole situation is in part a test of Bull's loyalty, this is also a test of the Inquisitor.

What Bull needs to leave the Qun is not simply for someone else to make the choice for him, but to believe that there is a future for him outside the Qun. That he will still be himself, that he will have purpose, and meaning, and that someone else is worth trusting. Bull cannot bring himself to leave the Qun if it means he will be left utterly alone with nothing but his own mind and his deepest fears. And if that's what leaving the Qun means… then in his mind, it would be better to stay.

The Inquisitor's choice will answer that question.

To sacrifice the Chargers leaves Bull with nothing outside of the Qun. He has just watched his closest friends die, and he cannot trust the Inquisitor. With Krem and Rocky and Skinner and Stitches and Dalish and Grim, the new sense of self that the Iron Bull has found in the south also dies.

Of course he turns back to the Qun. He has nothing else left.

But if it's the Inquisitor who makes the call to save the Chargers�� Bull can leave. He has friends who care about him. He has purpose. He has someone whose command he can trust. He has hope. None of this makes the choice easy for him. It is quite clearly very painful and difficult, and I don't think there's any way it could be otherwise. But he has a way forward nonetheless. The choice makes leaving possible.

The Inquisitor doesn't force the Iron Bull to become Tal-Vashoth. Instead, Bull implicitly asks a question, and the Inquisitor by their choice gives him an answer.

[alpaca-clouds]

The History of Cyberpunk

Or why every other SciFi Genre is called [something]punk

You know what? Let's do this. Because I have seen the discussion on whether or not Solarpunk is "punk" over the last few days and... people really gotta learn their history.

The first time a genre took the "punk" name was Cyberpunk. And for context we gotta talk a bit about the history of the Cyberpunk genre.

While some books that we in hindsight call "Cyberpunk" were released as early as the 1960s, the start of Cyberpunk as a genre got its start in the late 70s and early 80s.

The term was invented by Bruce Bethke, who published a short story in 1983 with the name "Cyberpunk". His idea was to juxtapose the term "punk" for both the mentality and the punk protagonists in his short story with the term cyber, short for the cybernetics they were wearing. And while the cybernetics have become a main stay in the genre, the punk attitudes are not always carried through...

Well, the title Bethke invented stuck, though. When 1984 Neuromancer was published, one of the most influencial works in the early days of the genre, he called it "a Cyberpunk novel" in the marketing. And from there... Well, the genre was suddenly named like that.

The 80s were definitely the decade that had the most influence on the genre, given that a lot of the big novels and graphic novels of the genre were released here.

A big influence was, no doubt, that 1982 the Blade Runner movie had released and had inspired quite a few writers and artists. (And yes, this makes Blade Runner a movie that released not only before the term Cyberpunk was coined, but also before the genre had a chance to define itself.)

Given that the genre was defined in the 80s, there are a lot of 80s anxiety kept within it about the rise of the Japanese economy, that are these days rarely questioned within the western Cyberpunk movement.

When the genre was coined and developed, Japan was the fastest growing economy in the world, being so influencial that they got to buy out several things in America. Something that kinda jerked white people in the US a lot. This is, why Cyberpunk originally depicted not only a capitalist hellscape - but specifically a capitalist hellscape were everything was bought out by Japanese companies, with many of those early antagonists being Japanese companies. And yeah... there was a lot of both anti-japanese racism, but also cultural appropriation of Japanese things in early Cyberpunk, at time surviving to this day. (But that is a story for another day.)

The general sense that Western Cyberpunk had, was always the idea of: We have a capitalist hellscape where the world is slowly dying and people are exploited with no end, while we have those kinda punky protagonists, who stand outside of the society and try to work against it. This being where the punk comes from.

Now, I could talk for length about how a lot of that punky attitude has been lost in more modern Cyberpunk media, but that, too, is a story for another day.

So, let me just talk about what happened then.

The term Cyberpunk really is darn catchy, right? So just when that name took hold, writer K.W. Jeter retroactively called his 1979 novel Morlock Night "steampunk". And guess what: This stuck, too. Though while the 80s Cyberpunk still stuck to the punk attitude, a lot of Steampunk did not. While for certain there is quite a bit of Steampunk that has kinda punky characters go against the quasi Victorian society of steampunk books (something most common in the air pirate novels I have read), a lot of other stories are more focused on a general sense of adventure.

But never the less... The genre names stuck and gave a nice baseline for naming other genre. We got Dieselpunk, Atompunk, Nanopunk, Arcanepunk, Dustpunk, Silkpunk and of course also Solarpunk and Lunarpunk.

And for the most part... The "punk" names mostly communicate: "It is SciFi with this kinda aesthetic/twist going on". Which is just how it turned out.

Funnily enough Solarpunk is for once a genre that brings back the punk, as it tends to include a lot of the ideals aspired to by the Punk counter culture of the 1970s: Anarchism, anti-capitalism, anti-consumerism, anti-classism, anti-racism, anti-colonialism and so on. Though other than with Cyberpunk and the real world punk movement, Solarpunk for the most part imagines a place, where those things are culture instead of counter culture.

I personally find it kinda sad, how for the most part Cyberpunk kinda lost a lot of the counter-cultural, revolutionary mindset. And how fucking defeatist the genre often is.

But again, it is a story for another day. Just as the story of Japanese Cyberpunk is.

[goldengalore]

Never Alone

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry wants to meet Y/N’s family, but she is hesitant to introduce him to them and he can’t figure out why. When he discovers the reason, he’s hurt that she felt the need to hide it from him. This makes Harry question Y/N’s feelings for him, while she thinks he’s doubting her anxiety issues.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: anxiety, toxic family, invalidation of mental health issues, angst, mentions of sex but no actual smut

A/N: Listened to Matilda and Renegade by Big Red Machine ft. Taylor Swift a ton while writing this. Also, to anyone reading this who has ever felt invalidated about their mental health issues, I see you and I hope you know you are never ever alone ❤️

***

Harry and Y/N hadn’t been dating for very long when he introduced her to his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma.

He knew that meeting them in person for the first time would be stressful for Y/N because of her social anxiety as well as her obsession with making an excellent impression on every single person in his life. So, he cleverly began easing her into it by having her pop in briefly during his usual FaceTime calls with Anne and Gemma.

It worked because when he asked her to come home with him for Christmas, she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. That didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous about it though. Between her anxiety and his excitement, they were both a ball of jitters on the ten-hour flight from LA to London.

Harry’s family fell in love with Y/N. Once she conquered her initial timidness, she fit in perfectly with them. This didn’t come as a surprise to him at all, but Y/N was completely blown away by the love and warmth that his family showered her with. She was even brought to tears from it.

After a joyous holiday with his family, Harry found himself imagining what meeting Y/N’s family would be like. To him, that was the next logical step in their relationship, and he was eagerly anticipating it. So, when they’re a whole year into their relationship and she still hasn’t introduced him to her family or expressed any intention of doing so, he can’t help but wonder what might be holding her back.

She even had the opportunity to do so when she recently visited her family for a few days. She could have taken him with her. He even offered to tag along, but she refused, claiming that her mother had come down with some nasty stomach bug, so it wouldn’t be the best time.

He can’t lie. Her refusal hurt. Although he tries not to make a big deal out of it, it eats at him over the next couple weeks, so one day, he just decides to bring it up.

For most people, it’s a lazy Sunday—the perfect opportunity to sleep in and not get out of bed until noon. Not for Harry and Y/N though. No, the two creative souls got up bright and early to use this time to write and draw. Harry sits on one couch with his guitar in his lap and his songwriting notebook next to him along with his phone, which is recording everything he plays. On the other couch is Y/N, her sketchbook perched up against her bent legs, her pencil gripped between her skillful fingers as she works on a drawing.

Harry has been staring at her for some time now while mindlessly strumming his guitar. She’s too immersed in her task to sense his gaze on her.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?” she responds without looking up from her sketchbook.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm?”

He pauses the recording on his phone before asking, “Why don’t you want me to meet your family?”

The question pulls her attention away from her drawing to his face. The hand holding her pencil is frozen on the paper.

“I told you,” she says softly. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. I’m just... waiting for the right time.”

He cocks a brow. “The right time? Will there ever be a right time? We’ve been together for a year.” He really doesn’t want to sound pushy or demanding, but he also just wants her to know how he feels. “You and my mum are constantly sending each other cat videos. You and Gemma have inside jokes that I’m not even a part of. Meanwhile, I find myself wondering if your family even knows who I am.”

She gives him a small, slightly amused smirk. “H, they know who you are. Trust me.”

“You know what I mean,” he mumbles, looking down at his guitar. Sure, they may know him as “Harry Styles the singer” or “Harry Styles the actor,” but that’s not what matters to him. He just wants them to know him as Y/N’s boyfriend, that’s all.

“They know that we’re in a relationship,” she confirms.

He waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. “Okay... And? How do they feel about that? Do they ask about me? Do they even want to meet me?”

She averts her gaze, her pencil moving across the page again. “They ask about you every time I see them.”

“Then what’s holding you back?” he inquires gently.

Her response is so delayed that he wonders if he’s even going to get one. “I’ll talk to them,” she says after a minute. “We’ll arrange a time for you and me to go see them together.”

His eyebrows lift up in surprise. “Really?”

She nods. “Yeah. If you really want to meet them, I’ll try to make it happen.”

He doesn’t know what to say at first. He didn’t expect her to concede so quickly. “Thank you, lovie,” he says once the words finally come to him.

She just gives him a brief smile and returns to her drawing, making a few more pencil strokes before asking, “Wanna see what I drew?”

“Always.”

She tries to bite back an excited grin as she turns her sketchbook around to show him. He shifts the guitar in his lap and leans forward to take a look. He instantly recognizes himself in the sketch. It’s him sitting as he is now, on the couch with his guitar. Every detail of his facial features is intricately depicted from the focused furrow of his brow to the shape of his nose to the stubble on his jaw.

He stares at it in awe. “That looks amazing.”

“Thanks!”

He tears his gaze away from the sketch and looks at her. “You were drawing me this whole time? I thought you were brainstorming ideas for your next piece.”

“I was, but you just looked so cute sitting there with your guitar. I mean, you were practically begging to be drawn.” She shoots him a flirtatious grin.

“Mhm. Right.” He shakes his head at her, smiling. “Can I keep it?”

“Of course.” She carefully rips the page out of her book and hands it over to him.

“Another one for the collection,” he states happily, referring to his growing collection of sketches that she’s drawn of him over the past year. In the beginning, she used to hide them from him. Then one day, he stumbled upon her sketchbook sitting on the dining table, opened up to a page containing a flawless illustration of his Vogue magazine cover, and he was astounded. Y/N’s whole face flushed red when she found him staring at it, but he was quick to reassure her that he liked it and asked if he could keep it.

“I don’t mind, you know. That you like drawing me,” he told her that day. “It’s a compliment, if anything, and it’s no different than me writing songs about you.”

Her face brightened at his revelation. “You write songs about me?”

“All the time.”

Ever since that conversation, she no longer hesitates to show him these drawings and he makes sure to keep each one in a safe place.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been saving them all,” she says now. “You really haven’t thrown a single one away?”

“I could never.”

***

A whole week passes by, and it’s like their conversation about arranging a time to meet Y/N’s family never even happened because she doesn’t bring it up again. Harry starts to wonder if she only said that to appease him for a while and stop him from asking. That annoys him. It would be one thing to tell him that she doesn’t want him to meet her family; it’s another to make false promises just to shut him up.

He wishes he could drop it. But he can’t. Especially now that he is almost certain that she’s hiding something from him.

She has a meeting today with the owner of an esteemed art gallery in LA, who offered her the opportunity to hold her first solo art exhibition. She has spent the last couple months preparing for the exhibition, which is less than two weeks away. Her best friend and business partner, Rosie, will be accompanying her to the meeting. Rosie shows up at Harry’s house around 10:30 that morning.

“Y/N’s upstairs, still getting ready,” he tells her after inviting her in. “Should be down soon though.”

“I’m surprised I’m ready before her for once. That’s quite the accomplishment for me.”

“Yeah, I, um—” He releases a sheepish laugh, touching his fingers to his lips. “I may have made her a bit late getting out of bed this morning.”

Rosie opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. He raises his brows at her expectantly, but she waves a dismissive hand and says, “Oh, I was just going to ask what you two were up to, but then I answered my own question.”

A coy grin tugs at the corners of his lips, as the memories of his sensual morning with Y/N play back in his mind.

He and Rosie take a seat in the living room. He offers her something to eat or drink while they wait, but she politely declines. That’s when the thought occurs to him. If there is anyone who knows Y/N better than him, it would be her best friend, who has known her for the majority of her adult life. Surely, if Y/N is hiding something from him, Rosie could be the key to helping him figure out what and why.

“Hey, this might be a random question, but have you ever met Y/N’s family?” he asks.

“Yeah, a few times.”

“What are they like?”

Her hazel eyes narrow slightly. “Why do you ask?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that Y/N and I have been together for a year and she still hasn’t introduced me to her family?”

Rosie hesitates. She glances over her shoulder at the stairs before answering quietly, “Look, let’s just say... Her family isn’t very supportive of her.”

His heart sinks. “Shit. Really?”

She nods. “They’re like the type of people who think mental health problems aren’t real problems or that tough love can fix everything, including anxiety.”

He winces.

“Yeah…”

“Well, that explains a lot,” he says, referring not only to Y/N’s reluctance to introduce him to her family but also her emotional reaction to his family accepting her with open arms. “Why didn’t she just tell me that? I would’ve understood.”

“You know how Y/N is. She keeps a lot to herself, and she doesn’t even do it on purpose most of the time.”

“I know, but...” He shrugs. “I just thought we’d reached that stage in our relationship where we could tell each other anything. At least that’s how I feel when I’m with her.”

She had so many chances to tell him the truth about her family. Even if she didn’t want to get into the nitty-gritty details of it, all she had to do was tell him that they’re not nice people for him to drop the topic altogether. He feels guilty now for bringing up her family so much, but she never gave him any indication that they were bad people. Even when she went to visit them recently, it didn’t seem like she was dreading it. So, how was Harry supposed to know? How can he possibly know anything about her if she refuses to open up to him?

They hear her footsteps rapidly descending the stairs now.

“I’m ready!” she shouts.

Her outfit for the meeting is sleek and professional—a teal blouse loosely tucked into a pair of slim, high-waisted black trousers. Harry helped her pick it out this morning when she was struggling to decide between a few different options.

“How late are we?” she asks breathlessly at the bottom of the stairs.

Rosie checks her phone. “Not that late. We can still get there with five minutes to spare.”

As Rosie heads to the door, Y/N walks over to Harry to kiss him goodbye.

“Bye, baby. I’ll see you later,” she says.

He squeezes her hand. “Best of luck with the meeting. Remember to breathe.”

“I’ll try!”

And then she’s off.

***

Sometimes, Y/N can’t tell if someone is actually behaving differently around her or if her anxiety is causing her to see things that aren’t there. There have been instances where she thought someone was acting off around her and became convinced that they were upset with her only to find out that they were just having a bad day and it had nothing to do with her at all.

She wonders if this might be the case with Harry. He has been acting strange the past few days. The shift in behaviour is subtle. A kiss that ends a moment too soon, a smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes, a laugh that feels just a little bit forced. Most people wouldn’t take notice. But the thing about anxiety is that it forces you to notice everything. It’s as if the brain is in a constant state of hypervigilance, scanning its environment for the slightest sign of a threat.

Harry has been at the studio all day. She saw him briefly around seven o’clock this morning when her eyes fluttered open to find him all showered and dressed for the day, grabbing his phone off the nightstand.

“Heading to the studio. Love you,” he told her, planting a hasty kiss to her forehead before leaving.

She couldn’t fall back asleep after that, so she decided to start her day too and put some finishing touches on the drawings for her upcoming exhibit. However, her overthinking mind made it impossible to focus. She ultimately decided to take her drawings over to her apartment and work there instead.

Over the past six months, she has practically lived at Harry’s house with how much time she spends there. But her apartment has always been there in case she needs some time alone or, like today, she just needs a change of scenery to sharpen her focus.

It didn’t occur to her at any point to text Harry and let him know where he can find her after he finishes up at the studio. Or perhaps, her subconscious made her withhold that information on purpose to see if he would even notice or care for her absence.

Late that evening, she receives a call from him.

“Hey, where’d you go?” he asks when she picks up.

“Oh, I’m at my apartment. Couldn’t focus today, so I thought I’d try working here instead.”

“Hm. Wish you’d told me. I would’ve headed straight there from the studio.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles in response.

“It’s all right. Be there in a few.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

A nervousness seeps through her after their call. A kind of nervousness she hasn’t felt since the very early days of their relationship when she wasn’t quite comfortable around him yet. She doesn’t like this feeling and tries to distract herself by cleaning up the kitchen where she just finished having dinner not too long ago.

Harry has a spare key to her apartment, just like she has one to his house, so when she hears it turn in the lock, she knows it’s him. Her heart is in her throat.

She’s washing her hands in the kitchen sink when the door opens.

“Hi, my love,” he greets her. He’s wearing her merch today. Well, technically, it’s his merch that she helped design. Their merch, as he would call it.

“Hey,” she replies. As she wipes her hands on the towel by the sink, he walks up behind her and slides his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair. She turns around to face him. “How was your day?” For some reason, the question comes out sounding awkward, at least in her head, but Harry seems unfazed.

“Productive. We wrote so much today. Song after song. I couldn’t believe it. Tyler suggested we pull an all-nighter, but everyone was tired, so we decided to go home…” A dimpled smile emerges on his face as he adds, “And I wanted to see you, so…”

He plants a sweet, lingering kiss to her lips. She should feel the stress dissipating from her body. She should feel a sense of calm washing over her like cool ocean waves on a hot summer day. But none of that happens.

His hand sneaks under her shirt, squeezing her bare waist before wandering upward to her breast.

“Sorry,” she says, pulling away suddenly. “I, um, I’m not in the mood tonight.”

He blinks a few times, thrown for a moment. “Oh. Okay. No worries.” He takes a step back and scratches the back of his neck, eyes searching her face. “Everything okay?”

She doesn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah, I think I’m just starting my period soon, so you know…”

“Ah. Well, maybe we can just cuddle then. If you’re in the mood for that.”

“Mhm.”

They lay on her plush black couch together, her head on his shoulder, his fingers running through the lengths of her hair. He’s humming some unknown melody—probably a new song he’s been working on. She feels her heartbeat slowing down, finally.

Then he says, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Her heart picks up again. This is it. This is what she’s been dreading. She has no idea what he’s about to say, but of course, her mind jumps to the worst case scenario.

“Yeah?” she says, trying to keep her voice level.

“It’s about something Rosie told me.”

She frowns. “Something Rosie told you? What would that be?”

“She told me about your family, how they… they’re not supportive of you and your struggles.”

Her frown deepens. “She told you that?” She sits up now. “Why would she do that? She has no right to be sharing that kind of information about me.”

He sits up too, confusion taking hold of his features. “It’s not like she shared it with some stranger, lovie. I’m your boyfriend. Why is it so bad that she told me?”

“Because I didn’t want…” She trails off.

“You didn’t want me to know?”

She wordlessly looks down in her lap.

“Why?” he asks, the hurt apparent in his voice.

Forcing herself to look at him, she answers, “I didn’t want to disappoint you. You seemed so excited to meet them, and you bring them up all the time—”

“Yeah, that was when I knew nothing about them. If I’d known how they’d treated you, why the fuck would I want to meet them?” He runs a hand through his hair, clutching the ends briefly before letting go. “And I brought them up all the time because you were always so bloody vague about the topic. What was I— What was I meant to think? I’m not a mind-reader, Y/N.”

“I know. I know you’re not a mind-reader.” She tries to reach out to him, but he doesn’t seem to notice her outstretched hand as he turns away, so she lets it fall on the couch.

“Well, sometimes I feel like you expect me to be one because you never tell me how you really feel or what you’re really thinking, and I’m left to figure it out on my own.”

“Okay, that’s not true.” She shakes her head, growing a bit defensive now. “I know I used to be like that in the beginning, but you can’t tell me I haven’t gotten better since then because I have. You’re just angry right now and I—I can understa—”

“I’m not angry,” he insists, though he sounds pretty close to it, and it’s making her panic because although she has seen him get angry before, it’s never been at her.

His eyes fall shut for a moment. He seems to compose himself before continuing calmly, “I’m just frustrated because I feel like I’ve told you everything about me, I’ve bared my entire fucking soul to you, and I know it’s not as easy for you to do the same, but it’s not like it’s a walk in the park for me either. You say that it’s your anxiety that keeps you from opening up to me, but at this point, I can’t help but wonder if you just don’t feel as strongly about me as I feel about you.”

She flinches at the last part, a sense of betrayal settling like rocks in her stomach. “Y—you think I use my anxiety as an excuse?”

“That is not what I said.”

“That’s what you implied.”

“No,” he stresses, clenching his jaw. “You’re purposely misunderstanding me.”

“Why are you here, Harry?”

Puzzled green eyes stare back at her. “What?”

“This has clearly been on your mind for some time now. If you really think that I don’t feel strongly about you, that my anxiety is just some cover-up, then why are you still wasting your time with me?” Her heart thuds wildly in her chest as she spouts, “Is it just for the sex? Is that it? I mean, that’s why you came here tonight, right? Just for a quick fuck. And when you couldn’t have that, you decided to pick a fight with me.”

It was mean. Quite possibly—no, definitely—the meanest thing she has ever said to or about him. And it was undeserved. And she regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth.

The expression on his face switches from disbelief to disgust to pure pain in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing thickly. “You’re right. That’s what I’m here for, Y/N. Just a quick fuck. Because I’m some lowlife prick that would use you for sex and get mad when I can’t have it. You figured it out. Amazing job.” He claps his hands and stands up, taking long strides to the door.

“Wh—where are you going?” she stammers.

He ignores her and shoves his socked feet into his Vans. On shaky legs, she hurries over to him.

“H, where are you going?”

As his left hand reaches for the doorknob, she grabs his other one.

“No, wait, don’t go.”

“No, you’ve made it clear to me the kind of person you think I am. Thanks for your honesty, Y/N.” He speaks without looking at her. She can only see his side profile, but it’s enough to catch the tears forming in his eyes.

He tries to pull his hand away, but she squeezes it tighter, pleading with him, “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t go. Baby, please—”

“I’m tired, Y/N,” he sighs out, sounding utterly exhausted. “I just want to go home.”

He manages to yank his hand free from her grasp and leaves the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Y/N stands there, staring at it for the longest time, before making her way back to the couch in a daze.

She doesn’t know why she said it. He was just trying to explain his inner thoughts and feelings, not attacking her, but her brain latched onto that one comment about her anxiety and blew it way out of proportion. It struck a nerve somewhere inside her, reopening old wounds created by people in her past who invalidated her struggles.

But Harry is nothing like those people. No, he is a far cry from them. No one has shown her the level of kindness and understanding that he has, and she fears that no one else ever will, which makes the thought of losing him catastrophically more painful.

She lies down on her side on the couch, curling her legs into herself as the first sob of many escapes her body.

***

The big day has arrived.

Y/N’s very first solo art exhibition that she’s been working her ass off on for the past few months takes place tonight. The gallery that offered to display her work made an agreement with her to donate a portion of the profits to a local mental health charity—something that Y/N has always wanted to do. She’s always dreamed of using her art to give back to causes that matter to her, and she is finally at the stage where she can do that.

Her art career has taken off this past year. She was doing well before, but this year has catapulted her career to heights she couldn’t have imagined. She knows Harry has a lot to do with it, since the limited edition merch she designed for him attracted millions of new eyes to her work, not to mention the fact that she started dating him afterwards, which further piqued people’s curiosity about her as a person and an artist. But Harry, being the humble man he is, argues that it’s her talent that keeps bringing people back to her work, not him.

Whether he admits it or not, Harry has changed her life in more ways than one. Even if he never speaks to her again, she will be thanking him for the rest of her life.

Over the past week, she has typed a hundred different apologies to him, deleting each one without sending it, convincing herself that it’s not good enough, that he doesn’t want to hear from her, that he probably hates her guts.

She has missed him all week, but tonight, that feeling cements itself deep inside her chest, mixing perilously with the fear of having to talk about her art with strangers. It would’ve helped to have Rosie here at least, but her fiancé’s mother was in the hospital after a medical emergency and she needed to be there for them.

Y/N feels incredibly alone.

The people working at the gallery have been lovely. She hardly had to do anything at all because they took care of the entire setup. Now, they’re preparing the refreshments table, and just the mere sight of all that food is making her nauseous.

As hard as she tries to keep her shit together, she crumbles and bolts towards the exit. One of the gallery workers tries to inform her that the exhibit is about to start, but she barely hears him through her heart pounding in her ears. Once outside, she starts walking down the sidewalk in a random direction and finds an opening between two buildings where she can take a moment to herself, away from other people.

The fresh air entering her lungs is somewhat soothing, so she tries to focus on that, leaning a hand against one of the buildings.

“Y/N?” says a deep, familiar voice from behind her.

It can’t be, she thinks to herself, but when she turns around, there he is. Standing on the sidewalk. Dressed in dark, indiscriminate clothing and a hat, which casts a shadow over most of his handsome features. He’s wearing his Gucci square-framed glasses that make him look like a college student.

“Harry? What are you doing here?”

He steps towards her, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I was sat in the cafe across the street, waiting for your exhibit to start. Saw you run out. Are you okay?”

Instead of answering his question, she asks in a weak voice, “You came to see my exhibit?”

“Of course I did,” he says, as if the concept of him missing it is unfathomable. He places his hands on his hips and adds with a faint smirk, “You think I, your number one fan, would miss out on your first solo exhibit? C’mon.”

Tears flood Y/N’s eyes, blurring her vision.

Harry’s face falls. “Oh no. Don’t cry, lovie.”

The tears streak down her cheeks now, ruining the makeup she spent so long on applying tonight. “I thought you hated me.”

He reaches towards her and delicately places his hands on her arms. “I could never hate you.”

“But you should! You should hate me because you’ve been nothing but patient and understanding with me and I treated you like shit in return and I hate myself for it and I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not!”

“Shh, come here.” He pulls her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest, holding her there until she calms down. Then he draws back and lifts her chin to make her look at him. “Listen to me. I did not come here to make you cry and ruin your big night, okay? I came here to support you. Now you’re going to put on that beautiful smile of yours and you’re going to go back in there and you’re going to put on this wonderful exhibit—”

“I don’t think I can.” She shakes her head.

“Yes, you can. You’ve worked so hard for this, my love. You deserve this. Don’t let your fear tell you otherwise.”

She sniffles, thinking for a moment. “You’re going to be there?”

“Yes. The whole time,” he reassures her. “I promise to be discreet though. I’m not about to steal the spotlight from you.”

“I wouldn’t mind even if you did, to be honest.”

“See, that’s the fear talking.” He pokes her softly in the chest. “This is your night and your night only.”

A part of her wishes he would just pull her back into his arms and let her stay there forever, safe and warm and comfortable. But he’s right. She has worked too hard and come too far to allow fear to stifle her now.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Okay, I’m going to go back in.”

He smiles widely. “That’s my girl.” He kisses her and sends her off with a few more encouraging words.

For the first fifteen minutes of the exhibit, as the first batch of visitors trickle into the gallery, the voice in Y/N’s head is screaming at her to run out the nearest exit and not look back. It takes everything in her to keep her feet planted where she is and withstand the racing heart and the churning stomach and the sweaty palms.

It isn’t until people start coming up to her to ask questions about her art that she begins to feel any semblance of calm, which is surprising, considering that this is the part she was most afraid of. Once she gets into artist mode, articulating her artistic ideas and techniques in front of these strangers comes naturally.

She spots Harry every now and then, wandering around the gallery with everyone else, blending in remarkably well in his dark clothes and hat and glasses. At one point, while she’s talking to someone, she sees Harry in the distance, holding up his phone with the camera aimed at her. He winks when he catches her eye.

By the last half hour of the exhibit, Y/N’s throat is dry and hoarse from talking so much. She can’t believe how many people were interested in discussing her work with her.

While she’s taking a break to have some water, she hears someone shout, “There she is!”

She turns to find Jeff and Glenne walking towards her, smiling and waving like proud parents.

“So sorry we’re late,” says Glenne. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, it’s totally fine. I didn’t even know you were coming.”

“Are you kidding?” says Jeff. “We’ve been looking forward to this.”

Y/N told them about the exhibit when she and Harry invited them over for dinner last month. She didn’t expect them to remember. The fact that they did means everything.

“We were going to buy something, but it looks like everything’s sold out, huh?” says Jeff, looking around.

“Oh, we’re so coming early for the next one,” says Glenne.

Y/N smiles at the determination in her voice. “Thank you for coming. You guys have no idea how much it means to me.”

Her heart is so full. Whereas the night started with her feeling petrified and alone, she now feels more loved and supported than ever. To say that the exhibit was a success is an understatement, and having Harry, Jeff, and Glenne all there for her was the cherry on top because success tastes so much sweeter when you have people to share it with.

***

Harry is bursting with pride. Watching Y/N put on this exhibit tonight has been quite a treat. She has blossomed from someone who used to not think very highly of her artistic capabilities into a self-assured artist right before his eyes, and he has loved being able to witness her growth.

Now they’re at his house, having Thai food, and Y/N, who hasn’t eaten all day due to nerves, is devouring everything so quickly that he worries he might not have ordered enough food for them. Luckily, that doesn’t end up being the case.

Afterwards, as they’re placing their dishes in the sink, Y/N tells him, “I saw you sneaking pictures of me at the exhibit. Like a little fanboy.”

He laughs. “I hope you don’t mind. You just looked so in your element.”

She bites her lip. “Can I see them?”

“Sure.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens up his camera roll. He places it on the counter so they can both look together.

Each photo shows Y/N talking to people who came to see her work, her hands poised in the air as she describes her creative process or her inspiration behind a specific piece.

“You look so confident,” he comments. “And happy.” He looks up at her from his phone and nudges her softly with his arm. “I’m proud of you.”

For a second, it seems like she’s about to break down into tears again but then contains herself.

“I really don’t deserve you,” she says.

He gives her a gentle look, knowing that she’s referring to the hurtful words she fired at him that night in her apartment. The words that burrowed deep under his skin for a few days until he gained some clarity and realized that she’d only said them because she felt attacked, that she didn’t actually believe them. Of course, that didn’t make it okay, but it did soften him towards her a little. And knowing Y/N, he could safely assume that she was far angrier at herself than he was at her.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t mean what you said. I mean, it still fucking hurt, but I know they were just words said in the heat of the moment… Right?”

“Yes,” she replies without hesitation. “And I’m so sorry, not just about what I said that night, but also what I didn’t say about my family, for hiding that from you.”

“No, I never should’ve pushed you to tell me in the first place.”

“But you never pushed me, Harry.” She turns her body towards him fully, leaning against the counter. “You just asked because you were curious about that part of my life, the same way I was curious about your family before I met them. It’s just that my family is… They’re nothing like yours. It’s not like they’re terrible people. They’re just not warm or affectionate, and they see any display of emotion as a sign of weakness.”

He quirks a brow. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, lovie, but they sound like robots.”

“You’re not far off,” she replies with a shrug. “They have this toughness, this stoic resolve that I used to envy when I was younger, until I realized that I didn’t want to be like that at all. As a child though, when your whole family is like that and you’re the anxious one who can’t get your emotions under control, it’s hard to feel normal. My parents didn’t know how to handle my anxiety, so they tried to mold me into them, and when that didn’t work, they just started denying my feelings altogether. Every time I would try to talk about my feelings, they would shut me down, tell me to suck it up and toughen up and stop being so goddamn sensitive.”

Hearing that makes Harry’s chest ache. Y/N is a sensitive person, sure, but he never viewed that as a shortcoming. In fact, it’s one of the many things that drew him to her because he is the same way. His sensitivity has allowed him to be more empathetic in his relationships and more vulnerable in his music—qualities that he also noticed in Y/N.

“I got tired of trying to explain it to them,” she continues, “so I left and tried to make something out of my art career. And God, my parents hated that. They were never the creative types; they thought anything related to art was a waste of time. They kept telling me I was wasting my potential to be something bigger, something better than an artist. And at one point, I started believing them, but then I met people like Rosie, who weren’t emotionless robots and who actually appreciated art for what it is.

“And I made a life for myself out here, pouring my heart and soul into my art, and I’ve tried so hard to keep this new, amazing part of my life separate from that part because I don’t want them to ruin this for me.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to meet them?” he asks gently.

“Well, that and the fact that they’re convinced that you’re just some hotshot superstar stringing me along while sleeping with ten other girls at the same time because they don’t see how someone like you could ever fall in love with someone like me. And they make sure to remind me of that every time I go see them, which is just so fun,” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Harry doesn’t really care that her parents see him as some pompous asshole obsessed with sex. What does bother him, however, is that they try to make Y/N feel like she somehow doesn’t meet his standards, that she isn’t good enough for him because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“How come you still visit them?” he asks. “Not judging, just curious.” If it were up to him, he would never let them see her again.

She sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I always felt obligated to? I felt like they did care about me, even if they sucked at showing it. But the older I get and especially this past year, I feel less obligated to put up with their shit. I’ll probably keep visiting for now, just not as often anymore.”

“You don’t have to deal with them alone, you know.” He takes her hand in his. “I’m more than willing to go along for moral support.”

“That’s really sweet, but… It’s hard enough hearing them say disrespectful things about you when you’re not there. If you were there, I think I might start throwing hands.”

He chuckles. The idea of his dear sweet Y/N, who couldn’t hurt a fly, threatening to fight her family for disrespecting him makes him melt inside.

“Okay, well, I understand if you’d prefer to go on your own,” he says. “My offer still stands though, if you change your mind.”

She smiles. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And I promise to be more open and honest with you moving forward. I really am trying.”

“I know you are.” He looks down at their hands, rubbing his thumb over the back of hers. “Can’t be easy when you were told to bury your feelings down all through your childhood.”

“Yeah…”

When he looks up from their hands, he finds a peculiar look on her face, her eyes tender and almost hypnotic as they stare back at him.

He frowns slightly. “What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just feeling extra lucky tonight.”

“Oh.” He smiles, nearly blushing under her intense gaze. “Sooo, when’s the next exhibit? Because I have some suggestions.”

Her brows lift up curiously. “Suggestions?”

“Yeah, mostly for the refreshments table. I feel it was a bit lacking.”

She gasps. “Not the refreshments table! I worked so hard on that!”

“Hm, well, clearly not hard enough.”

She pouts. He chuckles and pinches her bottom lip before leaning in for a kiss, stopping just by her lips.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

“Love you more.” She completes the kiss.

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

[riddles-fiddles]

Can we get the dorm leaders reaction to s/o telling them that Twisted wonderland is a game in her world? She gave them plenty of proof and even showed them the game on her phone.

Riddle's confused and extremely intrigued from this piece of information

Though he's more on the confused side of things. He's not so acquainted with technology so it's a hard time for him to discern what's true or fake

And honestly, your claims are so absurd it easily slips on his side as a prank. He'll be polite and look interested the whole time, but his brain is racing against time to make reason of it all

"Cater always tells me about this 'effects' things you can add to photos and there are plenty apps for image manipulation"

Dismisses all the proof you show him as a very dedicated prank of yours, because how could he be merely an AI when he very much feels very alive? Bullshit.

He lays down on his bed for a few nights with a deep sense of dread, being unable to sleep from all the doubt that creeps on his mind. He wants to believe that it's all just a lie, but what if it isn't?

Sleeps through half your essay about how everything he knows is a lie, growing in boredom as you stubbornly shove evidence, talking like some scientist presenting a thesis

Honestly half your argument has already gone through his head at some point so he's not truly impressed

Plays it cool saying you're gone nuts and that all this magic stuff fried your brain

"Geez easy now herbivore, nothing you're blabbering about makes sense", and he looks absolutely unnafected, shrugging it off

He can't help but dwell on it for some time though, but he'll never show it on your face or hesitate for even a moment in front of anyone

No, you are the crazy one, he's very much real. His pain is real, or else all the things he feels deeply rooted on his heart wouldn't hurt this much... right?

At first he's skeptical and scoffs off at your attempts at making his mind around your little antics

He's got the mind of a businessman, he's not falling for such childish pranks, no matter how well made that photoshopped image looks. Oh, wait, it's an app? Well, you're probably just teaming up with Idia to piss him off

His interest is piqued the moment he sees the cards with his face, and as you tell him it's a gacha game, his features light up for a fraction of a second - but then he remembers that you're trying to shove some absurd nonsense down his throat. No, it's not the time for profit thinking

Though you sure did gave him an idea, and he'll be sure to talk it out to Idia some other time

Azul keeps on a composed and rational feeling to him, one he pridefully shows to everyone around him, but he's got his insecurities and doubts, and now you just sparkled something inside his heart

He can't quite grasp it, but it always leaves him choking and uncomfortable, something alike to fear and anxiety, something he used to feel when he was the pathetic little octopus with too much time alone

For the first time after many years, he finds himself pondering about life, questioning everything he knows, a sense of dread tugging at the confines of his mind. He didn't like to think that maybe you were right, that everything he might have experienced was nothing but a cruel lie

Kalim can't quite grasp the concept of his existence being literally a video game, but he's the first one to not treat it like a joke

He's very interested on everything you says naturally, but he's very impressed to know that there's a game where he is a character!

"But... y/n, how could I be a literal game character when I'm right in front of you? Doesn't that mean that you are ficitional as well?"

He laughs light-hearted, taking things surprisingly well - because he can't understand he's not truly real. No matter how many screenshots you show, his wiki page, his cards, not even playing through the whole Scarabia arch will suffice to convince him

He just thinks you're a very talented person who made the game as some kind of diary or something, being inspired by everything that happened in Night Raven College

Eventually Kalim just convinces you to brush your point off, seeing how happy and entertained he looked. Maybe it's for the best to just allow him to eat up that lie

You wouldn't want to make Kalim sad now, would you?

Vil looks at you like you have just insulted his whole bloodline and then threw all his makeup on his face

Stands there in awkward silence, processing all the information and carefully picked proof, snatching your phone to look through it

By the end of this tense moment, he shakes his head, laughing out as if finally understanding that everything was merely a joke.

But you don't laugh back, instead looking him dead in the face

Vil's unsettled by everything, from the way you look at him and the new, hard to swallow information

He asks you to go to therapy and says that he'll be more than happy to accompany you, sincerely worried about you

He doesn't want to believe the things you showed him, so just like the others, he'll just settle on the idea of you playing a prank on him for the sake of his own mental health.

Idia.exe has stopped working

"I KNEW IT!!!!!!!!!!!!" shouts out once he snaps out of his paralyzed processation so loudly you're sure everyone at NRC could hear him

He looks mortified and equally thrilled as he goes on blabbering about some underground government bullshit

Red and blue pill kinda shit, you know? Talks about simulations and how he dreamed saw the walls around his room glitch for a moment while gaming (he's sleep deprived)

Shut him up or else he'll be wailing in his fake existence and talking to you about some conspirational theories he formulated with the source of his own brain

Malleus is eerily silent as you present him with all the information you have, a perfect display of your confidence and everything that just fell right like puzzle pieces

When you're done and looks up at him, expecting an answer, he stares back, his emerald eyes deep and piercing, silently rummaging through your features though his gaze made you feel like he was reaching directly for your soul

"I know," he responds simply, an amused smile creeping between his lips

With a nod of farewell, he turns on his heels and simply leaves, unbothered to give any kind of explanation

Malleus leaves you with an existential crisis, hanging where you stood without understanding a thing

He knows? How can he know? Is he programmed to say that? Is he truly an IA?

You're not sure and will never be, because Malleus never gives you an answer eveytime you poke at the matter, simply smiling warmly before resuming to his tasks

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #142

Tony is replaced by an imposter (maybe a rogue Skrull or a shapeshifter or agent of some kind), but when Peter shows up for lab day, he doesn't realize immediately, too thrown by Tony's brutally cold attitude.

His spider sense is warning him, but Fake!Tony's remarks are so cutting he can't help but react with hurt and self-doubt. Later he assumes his sense was just warning him that his mentor was finally ready to kick him to the curb

He should've listened to his spider sense instead of his anxiety, though. Because the real Tony has been kidnapped.

It's Ned who gets Peter to realize something is wrong. Ned doesn't for a second believe that Tony would just drop Peter like that. His questions and determination (and maybe some open-mindedness- "What if it wasn't the real Mr. Stark but a bad guy in disguise?") eventually get Peter to rethink the situation too

Peter goes back over the day, and he realizes... Ned is right. Tony would never say those things to him. He needs to trust in the kind of person he knows Tony is. Which means something is really, really wrong.

Meanwhile, Fake!Tony has been busy, alienating every person in Tony's life who could possibly look for him. He says awful things to Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, May... By the time Peter tries to go to them, they're all too hurt and pissed to even listen

So, it's up to him (and Ned) to rescue Tony Stark

They figure out that he's been kidnapped, track down the location, and Peter heists his way in.

He finds Tony in a cell, hurt badly. But maybe worse than that... hopeless.

Tony is laying there like he doesn't think anyone is looking for him. Like even escape seems pointless, since there'd be no one left to escape to. His captors have clearly explained their plan, probably boasting about the awful things they'd had Fake!Tony say. After hearing it, Tony doesn't blame his family at all for leaving him to die.

He's definitely not prepared when Spider-Man suddenly drops into the room.

As they escape, Tony is so moved by how much this kid believes in him. Enough to not just accept that he was capable of acting that way.

They defeat the imposter and get the real Tony to medical. The others are guilty and horrified. Peter stays close. Even though he knows it wasn't Tony speaking before, he still craves reassurance - both that Tony is okay and that he really does care - reassurance which Tony is more than happy to provide

[eksvaized]

Part Four König / Ghost / Reader [ Previous 〡 Next ] ︱AO3 ︱Wattpad ︱ taglist (if you want to be added - let me know!): @strawberrygato, @ghostslittlegf, @eskalotte, @abcdbleh, @yawning-grave81, @liamwholover, @valira-demaur, @idek101-01

You don’t immediately confront König about the texts you discovered on his phone. Initially, you keep quiet because you’re still trying to comprehend and process the shocking revelation. The words you read are still swirling around in your mind, causing you to question everything you thought you knew about your relationship. However, as you remain silent, a creeping sense of doubt infiltrates your thoughts. You question your own judgement, wondering if perhaps you have misunderstood the situation. You wrestle with the notion that maybe there’s an explanation, a context that you’re not privy to.

The very notion that König could betray your trust and cheat on you is too painful to even consider. While there are times when he seems distant and you sometimes feel that he doesn’t pay enough attention to you, deep down, you still want to believe in him. You want to have faith that the man you love would not hurt you in such an unimaginable way.

And then, there comes a moment, when you find yourself aimlessly standing in the kitchen. Your eyes, almost instinctively, drift towards the window. There, you catch the sight of your neighbour. As your gaze lingers on him longer than it should, a pang of guilt washes over you like a tidal wave. Suddenly, it hits you like a bolt of lightning, the realization that your thoughts are straying, straying into a territory that you never intended to venture into. It makes you question whether you are really any better than König.

Your boyfriend might occasionally engage in harmless flirting with other women. Yet, you are in a similarly precarious situation, guilty of the same act of letting your eyes wander. You find yourself infatuated, even slightly obsessed, with the man who lives across the street. Even now, at this very moment when you should be returning to your living room, where König is waiting for you, you find yourself rooted to the spot, unable to move.

You let out a weary sigh, the weight of the world seemingly pressing against your chest. Your hands reach up to rub your face. The thought of confronting König has been gnawing at you, consuming every waking moment with a dread that’s nearly unbearable. You know deep down in the pit of your stomach that you should have a conversation with him. Yet, the haunting fear of the unknown keeps you paralyzed.

The morning has started off on such a high note, with König in a great mood. The last thing you want to do is to cast a dark cloud over the day. So, for now, you decide to push the matter aside, tucking it away in a corner of your mind. Yet again, you make a solemn promise to yourself, a vow sealed with the weight of your own resolve, to broach the subject of his potential infidelity the following day. Tomorrow, you would face the storm head on. But for today, you allow yourself a moment’s respite from the looming storm.

However, when the promised tomorrow arrives, you cannot break the silence. Again. Your lips remain sealed, your words swallowed by the anxiety of what his response might be. As the hours turn into days, and then into weeks, you find yourself trapped in a continuous, never-ending loop of silent mornings that stretch out before you, each one more daunting than the last.

Every day, you wake up filled with a newfound determination, believing that today would be the day you would finally gather the courage to ask him the daunting question that’s been relentlessly haunting your thoughts, echoing in the empty corners of your mind. But every time the moment arrives, every time you find yourself standing at the precipice of confession, you bite back the words, swallowing them down as they rise in your throat.

The question stays unasked, lingering in the air between you like a ghost, because you’re terrified of what Konig might say. You fear the rejection, the disappointment, the potential heartbreak, and breakup that his answer might bring—you fear the change that might come. But above all, you fear falsely accusing him. And so you remain silent, caught in a cycle of fear and anticipation, waiting for a tomorrow that might never come.

* * *

“Trust me… I’ll make up for it when I come back, okay?” König’s words echo in the hallway as he steps closer to you. The intensity of his gaze is almost palpable, and the air seems to thicken. As he leans down, his lips find their way to your forehead. It’s a gentle touch, soft and tender, sending a comforting warmth seeping through you, spreading from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

His hands find their place on your waist before venturing further, sneaking under the hem of your shirt. The feel of his gloves lightly grazing your bare skin sends a shiver down your spine, a ticklish sensation that has you squirming in his arms “I know you really wanted to visit your family, and that you are disappointed that the plans had to change, but this… this is the last time I’m breaking my promises.”

You’ve considered the idea of going alone, but the thought of flying on your own is daunting and the prospect of traveling across the country by yourself is something you’d rather not do. So, a part of you wants to trust him, to believe in the sincerity of his words. However, there’s this lingering voice at the back of your mind, a constant nagging reminder of past experiences, urging you not to place too much hope on the chance that König would keep his word this time.

As he leans down to kiss you, his hands trace the contours of your body. They glide downwards in a slow motion before settling on your hips. His fingers hook around the belt loops on your jeans, exerting just enough pressure to tug you gently, yet insistently, closer to him.

König pauses then, creating a moment of suspense that makes your breath hitch. As his eyes focus on you, his forehead comes to rest against yours. The intensity of his gaze is magnetic, drawing you in and holding you captive.

In the quiet space between heartbeats, he breaks the silence. His voice, low and husky, “I’m going to miss you.” The words hang in the air, a poignant reminder of the inevitable parting that looms ahead, adding a bittersweet edge to the tender moment you two are sharing.

You give a slight nod in response; the words stuck in your throat, unable to find their way out. You’ve always found it excruciatingly hard to bid him goodbye, to watch him walk away with the haunting uncertainty that he might not come back. The fear always nibbles at your heartstrings. But this time, it feels distinctively different from the departures that preceded it. This time, he tenderly wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you into the comforting warmth of his embrace, holding you so tightly as if trying to imprint the moment into his memory. His voice, a soft murmur laced with raw emotion, tickles your hair as he leans in to whisper the three words that make your heart flutter: “I love you.”

* * *

As each day passes by, one following the other, they march in a slow, monotonous rhythm, a procession of identical hours and minutes that seem to stretch into infinity. You fall back into your mundane routine, the familiar patterns offering some semblance of normality. You fill your hours with activities, tasks and hobbies, each one designed to distract you from the overwhelming sense of loneliness that threatens to consume you. This feeling, this insidious companion, becomes particularly potent whenever you are alone in the house.

One of these mundane activities is doing laundry. It’s a chore that brings you face-to-face with König’s oversized duffle bag, which is practically bursting at the seams, indicating it’s full of dirty clothes. With a sigh, you approach it, lift it with an effort, and start extracting the smelly, forgotten laundry. You can’t help but crinkle your nose in disgust — König’s disregard for cleanliness, particularly his tendency to leave his dirty clothes lying around when he returns home from a mission, is a habit you’ve always found distasteful.

As you lift the worn-out duffle bag for one last shake, ensuring every last piece of clothing has been retrieved, a crumpled, forgotten piece of paper tumbles out and lands softly on your lap. It piques your curiosity. Casting the bag aside, you pick up the paper, your fingers tracing its creased edges as you attempt to smooth it out.

It’s a hastily torn page from some notebook, its edges rugged. Something has been scrawled across it in messy, rushed handwriting, as if the thoughts were too fast for the hand to keep up with. The once vibrant ink has smudged, faded, and blotched in places, making it a challenge to decipher the words. So, you bring it closer to your face, your eyes squinting in concentration, your mind eager to decode the what was written so hastily.

Meet me at the usual spot when you come back. -S

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t pay much attention to the note. After all, it’s not uncommon to find a medley of objects, ranging from old notes to various pieces of paper, interspersed amongst König’s possessions. He has a habit of stuffing it all in the side pockets of his bag, rather than disposing of everything.

However, on this occasion, the mere sight of a single initial inscribed at the end of the note instantaneously triggers a wave of memories, all leading back to the cryptic messages you had encountered on König’s phone. While there isn’t any concrete evidence linking the note to Sarah, a gut feeling, combined with a series of coincidences, leads you to believe that this note was penned by her.

Throughout the entire day, you keep the note tucked away with you. It sits in your pocket, feeling heavier than a handful of stones. Now and then, you find your hand subconsciously reaching out to touch it, just to reassure yourself that it’s still there. You are gripped by the fear of misplacing it, consumed by the thought of it slipping out of your pocket unnoticed, or worse, accidentally throwing it away with the day’s rubbish. .

You are filled with a profound sense of regret, a feeling that gnaws at your heart. You wish you had discovered the note sooner, at a time, when König was still within reach, still at home.

You can’t help but allow your mind to wander to what could have been. It’s crazy how something so small could hold such big implications. It is the missing puzzle piece—the catalyst you needed to muster the courage to confront him, to have a heart to heart conversation about the questions that have been haunting you for weeks now. However, he is no longer here to provide the answers you seek. His presence replaced by an echoing silence and cold emptiness.

Yes, you can call him, while clinging to the hope that he hasn’t decided to turn off his phone and that he will be willing to pick up. But you yearn for more. You want to see the expression changing on his face as the truth finally sees the light of day. You want to witness that moment of raw honesty, not just hear it.

Your evening culminates with you sinking, almost melting, into the plush cushions of the couch. The room around you is bathed in a soft, dim light, the last remnants of the day’s glow that are gradually fading away, surrendering to the impending darkness of the night.

You seek refuge from the tormenting thoughts that have taken a firm grip on your mind, and attempt to distract yourself with a bottle of wine. This bottle, which you found hidden deep in the far corner of one of the kitchen cupboards, had been lying there neglected, its layer of dust indicating its long-standing disuse.

 You’d hoped that the warmth of the wine trickling slowly down your throat would offer some semblance of solace, a temporary respite from the turmoil within. However, the wine doesn’t seem to be working its anticipated magic. Instead of the calming effect you’d hoped for, the chaos inside your mind persists, relentless and unforgiving. It leaves no room for tranquility.

The note, those haunting words etched upon it, along with the vivid image of König and Sarah together, play in your mind like a broken record. The heart-wrenching thought of them together is like a punch to your gut, making you reel with a pain you’ve never known before. All these thoughts, these nagging reminders of a reality you’re not yet ready to accept, continue to circle in your head. They are like unwelcome guests who have not only overstayed their welcome but have also made themselves too comfortable, refusing to leave the confines of your already burdened and overwhelmed mind.

At this point, you are at a loss, unsure of your own emotions. You stand on the precipice of an emotional abyss, not knowing whether to let your pent-up frustration take the reins. To yell, to scream, to let it all out in a burst of cathartic anger, or to let the tightly held dam of tears break loose, allowing yourself the release of a heart-wrenching cry. A cry so deep, so raw that you might just end up crying until you’re completely spent, until you’re hollow and numb, devoid of any feeling.

You grumble when the doorbell rings. A sense of annoyance bubbles up within you, prickling at your skin like a thousand tiny needles, since you are certainly not in the mood to entertain unannounced guests. In your quiet frustration, you stubbornly choose not to move at first, silently praying that the person standing on your doorstep will take the hint and leave. But much to your dismay, the doorbell rings again. Again. And then, again. The repeated disturbance finally causes your patience to snap like a twig.

With an audible groan, after it becomes clear that the uninvited visitor won’t leave, you angrily pull yourself up. You march towards the door; your mind filled with bitter thoughts, ready to confront and cuss out the person who dared to disturb you.

As you reach out to twist the knob and open the door, the words you had been rehearsing seem to become lodged in your throat, rendering you momentarily speechless. A look of surprise paints your face as you take a sharp breath in. Standing at your doorstep is your neighbour.

His gaze, piercing and inquisitive, travels down your body before snapping back up to meet your eyes. It is at this moment that you suddenly become aware of your appearance. You are clad in one of König’s old, worn-out shirts that hang loosely on your frame, coupled with a pair of grey joggers that have definitely seen better days. Your hair is dishevelled, a wild mess that you haven’t bothered to tame, to say the least.

To top it all off, the haunted look in your eyes is unmistakable; in a sense, you are indeed being haunted. The note, stashed away in your pocket, seems to radiate an intense heat that burns through the fabric of your joggers. It feels as though it’s searing your skin.

“You’ve come to borrow another cup of sugar?” You inquire, your voice laced with a rich, unmistakable layer of sarcasm. The once overpowering feelings of hesitation and intimidation that had previously gripped you, rendering you silent during your last encounter with him, have now dissipated.

“No.” The word falls from his lips as he shakes his head. A few rebellious strands of his hair tumble forward to obscure his eyes. It looks like he just stepped out of the shower—his locks are still slightly damp, and you can’t help but notice the way they’ve darkened from their usual shade.

Your eyes wander, drawn to the subtle changes in him you hadn’t noticed before because of your nervousness, but the movement of his arm pulls your attention away. Your neighbour extends his hand towards you, his fingers curled something. His action effectively diverts your attention from his appearance. “But I wanted to give you back this.”

Upon closer look, you realise it’s the cup you had lent him. You nod, reaching out to take it from him. Your fingers brush against his. Just days ago, such touch had sent a jolt of electricity coursing down your spine, made your heart beat faster, and even caused you to blush. But right now, it all is replaced by an all-consuming numbness and emptiness that has taken up residence within the deepest corners of your heart.

You want to tell him that he really didn’t have to go through the trouble of returning the cup. But there’s a question that’s been burning at the back of your mind, a question that you’ve been wanting to ask him for quite some time now.

“What’s your name?”

“Simon,” he says. There’s a moment of silence that seems to stretch on but only lasts a few heartbeats.

His brown eyes dart towards your vacant driveway. The absence of your boyfriend’s truck does not go unnoticed. Then, as if on a silent cue, they flit over your shoulder, taking in the hollow emptiness of the hallway behind you. Every corner, every shadow, scanned with an almost unnerving precision. And then, within the blink of an eye, his gaze returns to its original position, resting on your face, studying you with an intensity that’s hard to ignore.

“Y/N,” you also say, deciding to introduce yourself as well. It feels only fair after all.

It’s clear to you that you should shut the door right in Simon’s face, just like you did the last time he showed up late in the evening. However, the weight of the note in your pocket feels extraordinarily heavy, and it ignites a burning desire within you to retaliate against König. The wine, which has been flowing freely tonight, is clouding your judgment and leading you to make irrational decisions.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask, a question that in the sober light of day, you will probably regret.

“Won’t your boyfriend be mad?” Simon replies. For a moment, you find yourself puzzled, wondering how he knows about your relationship. But then it dawns on you—his house is right across the street. There’s no way he could be ignorant of your comings and goings, and he’s certainly not blind or stupid. He must have spotted König at least a few times.

“He’s not at home,” you say, a hint of defiance in your voice.

You half-expect Simon to turn down your invitation. But to your utter astonishment, he takes you up on your request and steps over the threshold, into your home.

After you lead him to the living room, you pour him a glass of wine, draining the last drops from the bottle. Sitting down on the armchair, he leaves you to claim the entire couch for yourself. The conversation, initially, is awkward and stilted—you find yourself grappling for the right words to say, and his intense scrutiny doesn’t help.

His lips are curled into a smirk, his gaze shamelessly scanning your figure with a heated intensity that causes a rush of warmth to flood your cheeks. However, you find solace in the wine; the more you concentrate on the swirling ruby liquid in your glass and drink, the easier it becomes to maintain the conversation.

You expect him to make advances, to reciprocate the flirtatious overtures that you not so subtly weave into your sentences. But even when you let slip a few obvious innuendos, a few candid remarks about the palpable loneliness that you feel, or about his undeniable attractiveness, Simon doesn’t seem to register them. Or if he does, he does a commendable job of feigning ignorance.

As you sit across from him, you can’t help but notice the way he listens to your every word, his attention never faltering. It’s as if your conversation is the most important thing to him at that moment. His eyes—always focused on you. Somewhere along the way, amid the banter and the wine, you find yourself veering away from idle chit-chat, starting to open up to him. The conversation takes on a more profound tone, and you begin sharing things you never thought you would. You pour your heart out, peeling back the layers, revealing parts of yourself that have been hidden for so long.

“If you want to know the truth instead of trying to come up with your own version of it, you should just ask him and stop avoiding the difficult conversation just because you’re afraid of its outcome,” Simon says after you share with him your suspicion that your boyfriend might be cheating.

You’re not entirely sure why you chose to unveil such personal turmoil to him. Perhaps it was his empathetic gaze or the fact that he was simply there. At the right moment. Regardless, it feels incredibly cathartic to finally unload the burden that has been weighing heavily on your heart, even if the person you’re entrusting this secret to is essentially a neighbour—a person you barely know.

The atmosphere is saturated with a silent, heavy melancholy, palpable in the surrounding air. Simon catches a fleeting glimpse of the sadness mirrored in your eyes. He’s quick to offer consolation. His words, tender and sincere, gently brush away the dark, brooding clouds that had gathered in your mind, casting a shadow over your thoughts. Eager to distract you from your worries, he shifts the conversation to a lighter note.

He starts talking about everyday occurrences, sharing amusing anecdotes, and recalling some old memories, all in an attempt to bring some normalcy back into the equation. This strategy, simple yet effective, seems to work its magic as your gloomy mood gradually lifts.

As the hours unfurl and slip away, you find yourself deeply engrossed in a multitude of topics, ranging from the mundane to the profound. Simon appears genuinely interested in getting to know you. His demeanor is open, warm and encouraging, prompting you to open up and share parts of yourself that you usually keep hidden away. As you share stories about your life, yourself and your relationship, you answer his volley of questions with refreshing honesty.

However, it’s only much later, when the conversation has dwindled and you’re left with your thoughts, that you realize that Simon, despite leading the conversation and asking all the questions, has shared very little about himself.

Eventually, exhaustion creeps in. You lower yourself down on the couch, stretching your legs out, the stiffness in your joints slowly dissipating as you sink deeper into cushions. Without realizing it, you drift off to sleep, an empty glass still clutched in your hand. The last thing you remember before sleep completely engulfs you is the sound of Simon’s voice, a soft cadence in the background, narrating his recent move to America for work. What surprises you is the lack of an accent, quite unusual considering he hasn’t spent a significant amount of time in the states yet. You want to comment on it, but the thought remains unspoken, swallowed up by the encroaching fog of sleep.

When you awaken, the armchair that he had been occupying is empty. You assume that he must have gone home—the house is quiet, devoid of any sound of footsteps.

The soft glow of the moonlight illuminates the darkness, offering you just enough light to navigate through the house without stumbling. But as you make your way towards the bedroom, the soft glow of a light turned on in the hallway catches your attention. You halt and see Simon’s silhouette. He appears to be engaged in something, though from your position, it’s hard to tell exactly what. Several doors are left slightly ajar.

“What are you doing?” You ask, your voice piercing the silence. Simon looks startled at your sudden question. He turns around, his body stiffening before eventually relaxing.

“I was just looking for a bathroom,” he explains.

“Oh,” you respond, suppressing a yawn and scratching the back of your head as you point towards the room across the corridor.

A/N: finally I was able to edit this chapter-- it took me so damn long because of all the midterms (which literally left my brain scrambled) >.< but thank u for the patience & hope you enjoyed it!!

[period-of-nocturne]

I had random shower thoughts about the Shinonome and the Tenmas. How Tsukasa and Ena are the same age, same for Akito and Saki. But how different their relationship is despite that.

Akito and Saki are the younger siblings. Despite that, I doubt Ena and Tsukasa have any memories of their life without them being around.

And even so, the two siblings relationships are so different. Not just in the sense that the Tenma seems to get along very well while the Shinonome... Are your typical siblings.

But in terms of dynamic, while Saki is definitely Tsukasa's little sister, Ena and Akito acts in a such way you would wonder if they're twin, sometimes.

We know it's because of their different context. Saki, with her illness bringing her often at the hospital, quickly became the little sister Tsukasa felt he had to care for as much as he could.

Ena one the other hand, with her breakdown, insecurities, and depression, "lost" her "big sister role", and Akito took the responsibility to care foe her and handle her feelings instead of the opposite.

And now that the girls are recovering we can hope to see the dynamic with their brothers balance and adjust more, slowly.

Sometimes I like to think of a world where the two duos context are reversed.

Akito getting a leg injury and becoming unable to play foot (permanently), before he decides to quit.

(It can be anything. You can have him in a wheelchair, have him unable to walk for a short time or until forever. Give him something less apparent but not less annoying. Anything.)

Ena becoming the one who tries to cheer him up. Doing something cute, like drawing Akito and herself as some super hero in a self insert world. Making little comics where cool things happen.

She'd go the Tsukasa route in the way she wouldn't lose confidence. She might not act like the guy did, but she'd be as selfless and little-brother centered.

I don't know if Akito would still see Rad Weekend or not. I assume the Summer Festival still happens. Ena taking him with her to cheer him up. Akito heard of Rad Weekend here. Ena could take him there as well. (Would it impact her ? I don't know. I think not. You can think otherwise.)

Tsukasa with Ena's anxiety and self-destructive tendencies, but towards acting. I just realised I opened a door for free Tsukasa angst. I apologize in advance for whatever this could cause. I also need to think about what caused it.

Saki... Is the one I have the less ideas about in that context. Her past, aside those time at the hospital, has been dropped in little bits here and there in LeoNeed and some Tenma related events. But it's almost always tied to other people.

Still, by simply removing the illness with a magic eraser, I wonder what Saki would end up doing with all the time she got. And it leads to a lot of questions. Would LeoNeed still disband ? Do you think she could join Tsukasa in acting for a while ? Find her own thing to enjoy ? So many things could be done with her in that context.

And if course it would change the siblings dynamics a little. I don't think the Tenmas would get close to the current Shinonome relationship. But Tsukasa would be less big brotherly. Saki would carry herself just fine and maybe do her best to cheer Tsukasa. And the Shinonome would be less in conflict. The frustration Akito must feel and the way Ena always cares for him could cause some rocky moment, but they wouldn't have the distance they have now.

I like to add Toya and Mafuyu context swap in the picture as well. Toya never had Tsukasa tell him to live his life as he want to, so... Oof.

Thinking of way Mafuyu and Ena could meet and Ena would do something similar for her, though.

Ultimately those purple winter beings don't feel the same way or have the same family, so the outcome wouldn't be those we already know but in reverse. It's just that things would be a little easier and faster for Mafuyu, but way more complicated for Toya.

(And yes he can ultimately meet Akito. In every universe. Don't worry. It'd just be really different.)

I don't know what happened to the rest of their teams. Kanade, Mizuki, the Vivids... Emu, Rui and Nene. LeoNeed is presumably fine.

I apologize to More More Jump and the Hinomori for being outed from this post.