#I can elaborate on this more another day when I have more energy and it’s not 10 pm

[isuggestforcefem]

started dating a cute twink, who ive known for about three years prior to this. he currently uses he him so thats what im going for for now... i'm a trans woman, having had socially transitioned since 2020 and being on estrogen since april. anyway i didnt have feelings for him until this summer, when i started, like, sensing something. i wasn't sure what it was, but now i'm completely certain that it's the feelings he has for me, his totally being an egg that hasn't cracked yet, some latent undiscovered potential of spirit, or a mixture of the three. we've been getting closer and closer to each other over time, moving into a massive grey area that I decided to turn into a completely certain, yes-we-are-a-thing. I'm bisexual leaning heavily toward women, you see, but i thought i'd make an allowance this time. today we went on a fantastic date, and i gave him what i suspect was his first kiss. the energy is still electric now that he's gone.

not what this is about, though. you see, as i've got closer to this person i've gradually understood that there's something extremely transgender going on with him- at least, as far as i can intuit. Over a year ago, I brought up the days when i was just questioning to another transgender friend, and he just sorta piped up, said "i've thought about it," and completely refused to elaborate. i still remembered that and i thought that our first date would be a nice time to discuss it- that flustered him real good, but he did mention that he perchance probably maybe might be transfem, but he's got school, so...

of course, the thing about girls like her is it's *never* the right time.

but whatever. i laid off, but intermittently i did what i do best and joked about him being transgender, and you know what? he never denied it, or confirmed it. he just stayed in that space between acceptance and denial, blushed and laughing. we're a relationship of comfort, you know? it's *comfortable* being around each other. it's *comfortable* not choosing trans or cis, just letting time pass. but god, i don't know, i want more for her! he's a sweet, adorable person now, but i know there's something inside him that's just so much more than this. i want it to get out. i want her to get out.

but the more i think about it the murkier it gets. he's so into me- do i hold the power here? is it better to wait for him to walk into womanhood, or should i be more active in encouraging him? i know i'm right, but what if i'm not, am i going to cause him dysphoria down the line? am i afraid of being a predator here because of internalized transmisogyny? am i overthinking this, should i just let it happen? for the record, he *does* seem to totally enjoy being a femboy- granted, that could go either way.

i've penned you an entire novel here, i recognize that and if you don't want to read this through or advise me that's just fine. if you'd like, you can leave this message out for your follower base or just save it in your inbox forever. but- i would LOVE your advice, ms forcefem. i do believe you're the one person to ask who would understand my position the best. thank you!

You should gently push her, help her down that path, make sure she feels safe to explore it! Girls like that will invent all sort of excuses to stay in denial, and you have to show her what she could have, the joy!

[cottonlemonade]

A Shoulder To Lean On

word count: 1438 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: university AU!Kita x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warning: mentions of academic pressure

request: Hi hi Sunny hope you're enjoying this last bit of the year! May I have breakfast with Kita sharing a 23 so we can study? Thank youu || fluffy, dealing with exam stress with crush Kita

You felt like you hadn’t slept properly in weeks but there was nothing to be done about it. You sighed when you hit sent on the assignment, well aware that you hadn’t even been close to the page count requirement but it was better to hand in something than nothing at all.

Rubbing your eyes you yawned and looked around at your roommate mumbling in her sleep.

It was almost midnight, way past your preferred bedtime. Your stomach growled, reminding you that the last thing you ate was a quick vending machine sandwich for lunch.

Opening the second drawer of your nightstand you found there wasn’t anything in the snack stash you were particularly tempted by. Usually, whenever you went to the grocery store lately you beelined to the prepared food section because all the exams and papers left you little to no time for such banal things as eating or sleeping.

The heavy snowfall from earlier had calmed significantly and only a few tiny flakes were carefully descending past your window.

After another moment’s thought, you got up and grabbed your jacket on the way out.

The streets surrounding the campus were quiet, with only a few people on their way home. But the closer you got to the main road and thus closer to restaurants and bars, supermarkets and convenience stores the busier the air became.

Laughter and music came from the brightly lit establishments with their Christmas-themed window displays. You could hear people cheering and toasting and singing as you walked past and tried to figure out what you were in the mood for. Not feeling like anything too elaborate or heavy your feet carried you to a convenience store, landing on a simple day-old onigiri and a cup of fruit to eat on your favorite bench by the library, hoping the icy fresh air would soothe the steady pounding in your temple soon.

You walked slowly, too tired and lost in thought to gather any energy.

The onigiri, while a tad dry, was delicious and the hot Christmas tea, purchased on impulse at the register, had you close your eyes in bliss. To no one’s surprise, the bench in question was empty. As you spaced out staring at the ground, you heard steady footsteps approaching from the warm glow of the library entrance.

Kita had recognized your soft shape instantly. Like most of the time you had been fresh on his mind, wondering if you took care of yourself, were skipping any meals, were maybe thinking about him, too, or smiling at someone else. Even though he would love nothing more than to ask you out to dinner, he respected that you didn’t want to date anyone for a while - a wish he had accidentally overheard while you were ahead of him in line at the cafeteria. And so he settled for being your friend; for now.

“Y/n?”

You looked up and watched him brush back the hood of his jacket, smiling gently.

“Oh hi.”

You gave a small bow and scooted a little to the side to make space for him. He sat down, making note of your drooping eyes.

“What are ya up to so late? If ya were in there, I didn’t see ya, I’m sorry.” He nodded towards the big imposing building that you hadn’t set foot in for weeks, too intimidated by all the students writing and reading and researching and having their life together.

Instead of answering you yawned and took a sleepy sip of tea.

“Did you finish all your assignments?”, you asked, your words slightly mumbled.

“Uhm, yeah.”, he said, a bit confused, and frowned even more when he saw you swaying a little forward.

Kita was afraid you would fall off the bench and thought frantically, his hand already raised.

Friends did this. He saw it all the time. It was no big deal.

And he carefully guided your lulling head to his shoulder.

His hand shook slightly, torn between patting your hair or retreating again to rest on his knees.

But that would look even more awkward, right? Friends could pat each other’s heads. He’d seen it in movies and TV shows.

For a moment his fingers hovered over you, then he set them on your hair.

No, this was too intimate.

He quickly moved to your shoulder, hoping you hadn’t noticed anything.

You sat like this for a little while, with him somewhere between tense panic and absolute calm, trying not to breathe too deeply or too much to not disturb you and to not lose track of his thoughts. Your steady breath formed little clouds in front of you.

“Ya should really get to bed.”, he said quietly, hating that he was right. He’d never been this close to you and found himself taking slightly deeper breaths when he got a whiff of your shampoo.

“Hm.”, you hummed, then sat back up, yawning again.

“I’ll walk ya.”

Neither of you was in a hurry as you slowly trudged through the soft layer of snow toward your dorm. After throwing out the wrappers and cup from your late dinner you felt a little better and Kita’s presence put you at ease. On a little wall along the pathway, you spotted a small group of tiny snowmen and jogged the few steps to examine them closer. “One second.”, you said to Kita when you grabbed a handful of snow and began forming your own. But instead of patiently waiting as you had expected him to, he leaned down as well to make a first ball. You smiled at him and for the next two minutes, you silently worked side by side to add to the local snowman population. You stepped back to take a look at your handiwork, Kita even took out his phone to take a picture of the two new members on the wall.

You sighed happily and were glad the cold gave you an excuse to have tears welling in your eyes.

“This is the first time I’ve done something for fun in weeks. I forgot what it was like to do something not for uni.”

Kita didn’t say anything, he just waited for you to continue.

“Academia is cool and all but dang, at what cost, you know? It snowed so much this winter already and I was dying to go outside and play but no, exams and more exams and studying, and oh- would you know it? More exams. And I love Christmas. But because of all this studying, I haven’t even had time to bake the sugar cookies my mom usually makes.” At this point you were just rambling, you couldn’t even see Kita next to you anymore and thought he had probably gone to gather more snow for a second snowman just so he didn’t have to listen to you. You yelped in surprise when something hit you in the back, well cushioned by your puffy jacket. When you turned around, you saw Kita lop another snowball in your direction, a small smile on his lips.

“Ya think, ya can take me?”

His heart leapt when your eyes brightened and you bent down to get your own ammunition. The careful game quickly escalated into an all-out war and you two ran around the white lawn near your dorm, laughing and calling out smack talk - yours quite a lot better than his - until you collapsed out of breath onto a small mountain of snow, moving your arms and legs up and down for a poor excuse of a snow angel on the trampled canvas. Kita appeared in your field of vision, beaming and holding his last snowball aloft.

You gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?”, he grinned with a mischievousness you’d rarely seen before.

In one swift motion, you shot up and grabbed the front of his jacket to pull him down with you, now looming over him with a handful of snow.

“Surrender!”

“Ye ye! I give up.” He actually giggled and you laid back again, satisfied with your win.

Even through the lights on campus, you could make out a few stars in the jet-black sky.

“Y/n.”, he said after a moment.

“Hm.”

“I know ya don’t feel like datin’ and I’m sorry to even bring it up but… would ya consider goin’ out with me sometime?”

Your head snapped to the side to look at him, trying to find any indication that he was joking.

“Are you serious?”

“Pretty serious, yea.”

You beamed and, pursing your lips to stop yourself from cheering, you looked back up to the stars, replying quietly, “I’d love to.”

a/n: request for @natdu

Any time I get to write for this man I can’t not make it as soft as possible. He is so fskfjsianahak, ya know? You get it. Thank you so much for this request, I hope you enjoyed it! 🌟

[ivysangel]

Okay but a threesome with Dick and Jason. what would that be like? Are they competing to see who makes you come harder? Does each try to out do the other because he’s secretly jealous? Are they gonna Eiffel Tower? Is one really sweet while the other is being aggressive and rough? I need opinions.

-🧸

honey i am so so so so so sorry. this has been sitting in my drafts for so long and i hope you're still around to see it! i already wrote a lil smth smth about this a while ago here but allow me to elaborate.

i think the dynamic can get pretty crazy because dick can get wayyy nasty; not to say jason doesn't either, but i don't think jason would get crazy nasty in front of dick. dick's there to overstimulate you, tease you, play around with you, and bring you to the edge and back and then over, and jason's there to comfort you through it. i think they both could be "he talks you through it," guys, but in this specific scenario, i think it would be jason who sweet talks you, whispers in your ear, tells you you're doing so good for them, and quiets you down when you get too loud. i don't really know how to explain it, but he'd be the comforting presence out of the two of them, not even taking a submissive role or anything, just not as actively winding you up as much as dick.

dick, a menace as always, treats it like a game. how many times can he make you cum before you're begging for a break, and how many different ways can he make it happen. i think he'd be like that on a normal day, too, but i feel like it's very amplified in this situation because however this threesome happens, it's a very tense and intimate affair, out of character for both of them and, therefore everything about it is just different (?) i can't even think of a good way to explain it other than the next morning you're all kinda like woah. lost all inhibition the night before and don't really know how to go back to the way things were. he's quick to get nasty; he's the one eating you out while jason is kissing your neck and lightly grazing your skin, touching and squeezing, etc. the combination of both of them is really just insane, and both of their actions, in tandem, are what makes it so much more intense.

i do think they could be eiffel tower guys, but idk, i think (and walk with me here)…double penetration might be the way they go. like, you can't say, "dick grayson is an ass man," without admitting that he'd probably be into anal, so boom. and if your pussy is open, then yeah, ofc jasons taking it; it just makes sense TO ME. it's definitely a lot and not for the faint of heart, and you have to hold onto one (or both) of them while you get used to the sensation and while they find a nice rhythm, so it feels good for all three of you. during this part, the talking might die down just because you're all so in the moment; it's definitely out of character for dick because he's a D1 yapper, but it's cool cuz he was dirty talking so much during the foreplay, like lifting his head from between your legs just to look you in the eye and say something nasty.

i'm also ngl i could see the roles reversed where jason is eating you out or fingering you, and dick is the one whispering crazy shit in your ear. i could see it working both ways, but the first more so.

when i tell you this would be probably the best orgasm you've ever had, i mean that. there's just so much that went into it that there's really no way you aren't gasping for air and clutching your chest when it's over. damn near passing out, and they gotta shake you a little to make sure you're still kicking. and it's not even really over because if you show any semblance of energy after, they might try to go another round i fear.

[godbirdart]

Hey there. Ive been admiring your work a long time and I was hoping I could get some advice from a more experienced artist.

How do you go about deciding which commission submissions will proceed forward? If you decide to decline a request how do you go about it? I recently started accepting commissions and get nervous when certain requests are too vague, too difficult or the requester isn't fully answering my questions and I dont know how to go about justifying a decline. Is it okay to decline a commission submission?

aAA thank you for enjoying my work!!

i could talk for Days about commissions and how I handle my own work, but I'm going to try to keep this short and simple for ease of reading:

i use a Google Form in combination with a number generator for my commission openings

reasons why i use a Google Form and number generator: - to avoid favoritism / client bias - to push my comfort zone with a variety of projects - to ensure i'm not taking on more work that i can handle

The Google form will automatically assign a number to each form, making it easy for me to pull up a website and ask it to generate a number between [insert number] and [insert number]. That said, I will still manually go through each form. Occasionally I'll pick up a project if I notice someone's reapplied a couple times who wasn't selected during previous openings, or if a project especially appeals to me, or isn't something i'd usually draw!

declining a commission / project:

yes, it is always okay to decline a project! you are not obligated to accept every submission that comes into your inbox / form / etc. there are many valid reasons to decline a project, from a conflict with your Terms of Service, to making sure you don't take on more work than you can reasonably handle.

if the project doesn't inspire you or spark that creative passion, it may result in frustration, exhaustion, and you might wind up handing the client a subpar art piece that you're not at all proud of. it's much more honorable to be upfront about it than to subject yourself to such grief as you waste your time and energy and your client's time and money.

ways to decline: it's always important to be polite. depending on your reasoning, you could say "Thank you for considering me for this project, but, ...." - "... This is not a project I'd be comfortable taking on." "... This project conflicts with my Terms of Service and I cannot accept it." "... I cannot accept it at this time." "... but I would not be able to fulfill your request to the detail / complexity you are expecting for this piece."

there's no shame in saying "i would not be a good fit for this project". i've had clients ask me for hyper-realistic work, which is quite far from my art style. while i could do it, i'd rather not put both myself and the client through months of frustration and waiting for a project i am not completely confident in executing.

if a client is being too vague, not answering questions:

it happens! not every client will communicate thoroughly. some clients will over-communicate, and for others there may be a language barrier so their difficultness may be entirely unintended.

you can't do the job if you don't know what you're supposed to be doing. never be afraid to ask your client for clarification on their request. phases you can use would be: - "I do not have enough information to begin work on this, could you clarify these details: [insert questions about details you need elaboration about]" - "I cannot proceed without knowing more about [insert thing], can you tell me more about [thing you need clarification on]". if your client being deliberately obtuse and refusing to supply the necessary information, you can be more firm with them such as: - "I will not proceed any further with this project if I do not receive [insert details]."

on clients being too difficult:

"difficult" is a bit subjective here. what may be considered difficult for one artist may be a walk in the park for another. this said, i'm going to use some very generic common examples here.

too many irrelevant notes, or randomly forwarding details / requests instead of condensing their ideas into one message:

"Thank you for these additional notes, however: ..." - "... please only supply notes that are directly related to the project at hand." [such as notes on the expression, environment, pose, etc - things that you need to know for the artwork you are working on] - "... please condense them into one message instead of sending multiple messages. I want to stay organized / do not want to lose track of your notes."

frequent requests for updates, or changes to the WIP / final art:

note: you should always be communicative and receptive to a client's request for updates, but here i am referring specifically to excessive requests such as numerous requests sent multiple times a day. additionally, what is considered "excessive" will vary depending on an artist's average turnaround time. "Thank you for reaching out, ..." - "... but I do not yet have an update for you at this time. I will reach out when I have an update ready for you, thank you for your patience." - "... but these requests are too frequent. Please allow more time to pass between requests for updates." You could also ask your client if they have concerns about the turnaround time, if they need the work by a specific date for a birthday / event, etc. It is important to consider that some clients may have been scammed by an artist in the past and their insistence on updates could be a result from that. if a client keeps requesting edits on the concept / sketch or final piece, you're within your right to say enough is enough. this will also vary depending on the artist's individual work process. if the changes are getting excessive, you could say: - "As we've undergone numerous edits to this, I will permit one final request for editing after which I will -" [move on to the next stage, cease work on this project, issue a partial refund, start asking fees for edits, etc; insert next step of your preference]

ignoring work hours / terms of service / communication channels

as an artist, you should set a firm boundary of what is a working day and what is not. you are not in a profession that is "on-call" 24/7. you can save some headache by having your schedule posted on your website / social media or wherever your queue is publicly posted. anywhere that is readily accessible for a client to easy find. - something you could say is: "My work days are [insert days], I answer work-related messages, work on art, and send out updates [if applicable] on those days. Thank you for your patience." if you prefer to have your work messages confined to one social media account or email, it's okay to enforce that! but be sure to have it posted in easily noticeable spots like pinned posts. - something to say here would be: "If you need to reach me, please do so via [insert platform / email etc]. I will not respond to [comments / DMs on other social media, etc]." terms of service, same as above, should be in an easy-to-find location and should be easy to read. if a client's prompt or action conflicts with your ToS, you could address it with: "As mentioned in my Terms of Service, [address thing that conflicts with your T&C."

language barriers

sometimes you may have a client with a language barrier. we live in a vast world, after all! be patient with them, and depending on their fluency, do your best to simplify your questions for them. if you know your client is using an online translator, try and avoid using jargon. we've come a long way with online translators, but they're not going to spit out the right translation if you ask "are they supposed to be super shredded and beefy" and the translator tells your client "should they be shredded meat".

dropping a client

this is an absolute most extreme last resort, but i bring this up since we're on the topic of difficult clients and this particular stage isn't spoken about often. no artist wants to up and drop a client, but sometimes it's better for all parties involved instead of dragging out a bad experience. dropping a client could result from a variety of factors, including: the artist is retiring from art, something has come up in the artist's life and they are unable to continue, a client has become abusive, or an agreement cannot be made on a project or the project has caused a conflict of interest between the artist and the client. if you must drop a client, you could say: - "I apologize, but for [insert reason] I cannot continue with this project. I will be [refunding / partially refunding] this project." If it's for medical reasons, you can say "due to a medical complication, I am unable to continue" - and leave it at that. Your client does not need elaboration on your private medical information. The same goes for private family matter or other personal issue. artists shouldn't let guilt eat at them if they are physically incapable of completing a project due to personal reasons. things happen, life happens. the vast majority of your clients will be understanding and appreciate that you reached out to them to address the situation instead of leaving them in limbo. If you have to drop a client because they're being genuinely abusive and hostile and not respecting you, your time, or your work, you can say the same thing as above. There's zero need to retaliate or be hostile back. The situation will likely make you feel awful, sure, but firmly staying professional is the best thing you can do. When issuing a refund, always specify when the client should expect their refund to arrive. "A refund has been issued and will be processed through [insert payment method] shortly." or "A refund will be issued on [insert date]."

This wound up long anyway despite my effort to shorten it, but ah well.

If you'd like more elaboration on something, don't hesitate to ask! Some sections did get pruned down in my futile effort to keep it short, so things might've ended up a bit vague or convoluted [my apologies].

[sehtoast]

Forget Me Not (Homelander x Reader)

1.4k words | gender neutral reader

Ask Prompt: HL x gn reader. Where hl loses his memory and runs away to another state where he meets the reader 🙏

You were totally prepared to swing first and ask questions later. Of course, that was before you saw him. Standing there drinking from your milk carton at three in the morning, fridge light illuminating him against the darkness of your kitchen, was The Homelander himself

You hide the baseball bat before he turns to you, a droplet of milk dribbling down his chin. 

“You should really invest in whole milk,” he says, sloshing what little was left inside the carton. “Tastes way better.”

You could hardly believe the night had been real when you woke up the next morning.  But, sure enough, he was still there.

“So, how did I end up with The Homelander of all people in my house,” you’d asked nervously. Reality had finally set in and you both sat at the table to talk.

He looked at you like you had seven heads.

“What’s a ‘Homelander?’”

Yeah… That really did happen. If not for the fact he looked entirely serious with such a genuine curiosity in his tone, you’d have thought he was bullshitting you.

Somehow, some way, he’d lost his memory.  Ran away from wherever he was, showed up at your house out of all possible others.  He said it seemed more inviting, but he couldn’t quite explain why.  

You’d tried to explain to him how to find his way back to New York, how to find Vought Tower so that he could go home and get some help, but he seemed too afraid to leave.

“What if I get lost?”  He’d asked, eyes twinkling with nervous energy.  “You said it’s north-east, but aren't there a lot of things north-east? What if I get the wrong place?”

You don’t know what possessed you, but you decided to let him stay.  Let him borrow some spare clothes that made him look much less… well, like a superhero.  You’re sure Vought would come looking for him eventually, so you might as well keep him safe and sound, right?

After helping him out of that suit, you can’t help but wonder if all super suits are total death traps.  If most heroes are padded up to look larger than life, but are really just plain as can be underneath.

Before he falls asleep in your spare room, he tells you the one thing he can remember.

“My name’s John…”

The next day, he follows you around everywhere.  You work remotely from home, and he sits next to you on the couch while you do.  The TV plays in the background while you cycle through tasks and emails, but his attention seems fixed on you entirely.  The clickety-clack of your keyboard fascinates him and he ends up curious as to how you type so fast, what you’re doing, what your code inputs mean.

He’s an interesting fella, curious by nature to the point he’s a total snoop.  You catch him in your bedroom on the third day, fingers trailing over your blankets as his gaze pans around the whole room.  It seems innocent enough, and he’s given you no reason to feel he’s out to hurt you.

When you ask him what he’s up to, he just shrugs, saying something… interesting.

“I wish I would've had a nice room when I was little…”

It conflicts with what you know to be true about him, but also makes you wonder if he’s starting to remember things.  You ask him to elaborate, but he can’t.  He presses his palm to his forehead as if he’s in pain and just shakes his head.  

“I don’t know. I just know I didn’t…”  He trails off, and you’re there to press a soothing touch to his shoulder.

You tell him not to worry too much.

You take him out grocery shopping one day.  He’s like a fish out of water.

He doesn’t know the first thing about navigating a store and doesn’t do much more than follow you like a lost puppy.  Hell, at the end, he doesn’t even know how to help the cashier with bagging.

He is, however, incredibly helpful when it comes to bringing everything in.  He is quite literally the one trip wonder, dangling every single bag from his arms and walking in as though they weigh nothing.

You could get used to that.

You cook a proper dinner that night and he helps.  Well, ‘help’ is a strong word.  More like he watches and hands you the occasional ingredient.

You’re fascinated by him.  He seems oblivious to normal living skills, but a part of him seems to genuinely want to learn them.  More than that, he seems so… peaceful.  You recall his recent erratic behaviors in the public eye, his meltdown on his birthday, his snippiness with interviewers…

But he seems so much less tense now.  Maybe it was the memory loss.  Maybe he just likes the quiet.  Who knows?

What you do know is, by the second week, you hope he never leaves.  You’re almost praying that his memory never returns despite knowing that's selfish.

It’s nice to share your space with someone.  It’s nice to have him around.

He’s sweet despite his dramatics.  Helpful and eager.  He’s company, and it’s been… a very long time since you’ve felt like you weren’t alone.  You didn’t quite live in bumfuck nowhere, but it was close enough that he was a blessing.

Your heart sinks on the day he comes downstairs wearing his suit.

He looks at you with those big blue eyes, but within them is a sadness. 

There is recognition floating around in there, swirling with that determined fire that you’ve seen on so many screens before. Yet he still looks so melancholy.

You offer him his morning coffee, a shared routine between you both for the past two months, and he sips at it quietly.

He used to hate it, but now..?

“Are you going back?” You ask after some time, not daring to meet his eyes.

Your heart sinks when he tells you he is.

“I’ll miss you…”

He struggles to reciprocate the words properly, but… he leaves you with a tight hug before his departure.

You don’t know why you cry so hard when he goes.  No, no…

That’s a lie.  You do know.

You miss him terribly.  

You miss him for days, for weeks.  

You watch the celebrations for his return.  You touch the screen of your laptop, wishing he was still at your side, still peering over your shoulder, still riding alongside you in your car.

But he isn’t.

And you don’t think he ever will be again.

You learn to breathe again after some time.  You feel good enough to crawl out of bed, collected enough to clean up the house a little.  You fall into your hobbies again, but nothing feels right.

It’s all just… dull.

And you hate that you know why.

You hate that you pray every night to hear your fridge door shutting, to hear the clinking of glass in your cabinets, to hear him step on that creaky floorboard on the steps.

But you don’t.

You don’t hear any of it.

Eventually you just stop listening.

Which means you don’t hear what slips through your window.  There are no footsteps, no creaks or cracks.  You don’t hear his nervous breaths.

You only feel when he lowers himself onto the other side of your bed.  You about jump out of your skin, ready to reach for the bat by your nightstand until you realize just who has come to see you.

You throw yourself at him entirely, hugging him tight, arms and legs wrapping around him to squeeze and squeeze and never let go.  He holds you close, nuzzling into your neck.

He tells you how much he’s missed you.  That he misses the quiet of your life together, that it was the nicest thing to happen to him in… well, his whole life, really.  He thanks you for taking care of him, tells you he wants to do the same for you.

Over the next few days, you have a visitor every night.

Within a few weeks, he kisses you for the first time.

After six months, you are a resident of Vought Tower, living with him in his penthouse.

He is different in this environment.  More demanding, more intense, but not to you. 

No.

When he comes back, when he comes home, he falls into your arms much like you did the night he came back to you.  He leaves his burdens at the door, safe and sound with you.

The peace didn’t necessarily come from losing his memory. It didn’t come from the solitude of your old home, nor the routine of domesticity.

It came from you.

He found his peace with you.

[psychemochanight]

More HC because I forgot many :D

Part 1 :D

Again, a little disclaimer:

These are just my favorite HCs, whether made by me or by the fandom, if you don't like any of them, that's completely respectable and you obviously don't have to agree with all or any of them. If you don't like them, just ignore them please, it's not worth arguing over HC about a fictional character.

That said, here are more HC (not all of them yet, but yeah, I'll add them as I remember them):

Dick is the kind of person who is always smiling, even when there is danger. If he's not smiling and cracking jokes, he's completely serious. No one has any problem admitting that they don't want to see that Dick, because he's scary.

Dick hates hospitals, and he hates being sedated even more, even in the batcave.

Years being kidnapped, yep.

His first instinct after waking up and analyzing his situation with his senses without giving any signs of waking up, is to run immediately. If they can avoid it, they never sedate him completely, the times he jumped up from the stretcher without taking into account his injuries were enough to know better.

He sits in the weirdest positions ever.

If he pays more than five minutes of attention to his hair, it's actually wavy, almost curly, if he doesn't, it's almost straight.

He grows his hair long when he is depressed and doesn't feel like taking care of it.

He rarely gives any other signs of being depressed now, so almost no one notices it these days.

He associates aromas with different people.

Sometimes, because of the perfumes worn by his family and friends, he knows that they have been in his apartment.

Yes, he sometimes lives on cereal, but it's definitely not the only thing he knows how to prepare, he just is so tired to cook.

Canonically, in several runs cereal is, in fact, his favorite food, so- besides having a sweet tooth, it helps him stay active (sugar rush 24/7).

He canonically prefers simple, comforting foods, so, another trait of his undiagnosed AUDHD :D

Alfred and Bruce say that Dick has a child's palate, he insists that the problem is not the taste, but the texture... It doesn't help his case.

Obviously he eats healthy food, but it always has to be something simple, he finds very elaborate dishes difficult to eat.

He had a pretty hard time at galas with the fancy food the first few times, until Bruce noticed that Dick wasn't eating and started including simpler dishes on the menu.

This is also why people sometimes think he doesn't know how to cook, because he only makes simple dishes, but it's not because he doesn't know how, it's because it's the only kind of food he likes.

In fact, despite preferring sweet over salty, or even his taste for junk food, Dick is very conscious of what he eats, and always has his head counting protein, calories, sugars and other nutritional values; this way, he keeps his diet stable even if he allows himself these "whims"... when he remembers to eat.

He actually likes stuffed animals, he just doesn't have any. (DC, what are you waiting for to give this man his stuffed elephant?)

Dick is an ambivert.

I would even say that he is more introverted. Not the incorrect definition of people, who confuse introversion with being reserved, shy or not liking to socialize. but the one who needs his time alone to recharge his energy. .

When Dick met Superman, it was despite Batman's "no meta-humans" rule, and his argument when Batman was going to scold him was "he's not a meta-human, he's an alien."

Bruce had to concede the point to the kid for the loophole, and update his rule.

This depends on the run to be canon or not, but I prefer to think that Dick never actually went to school before Bruce, and it was exclusively his charisma that helped him blend in with the other children, as if he had always attended educational institutions.

Although Bruce knew Dick was intelligent, even he was surprised that he was so able to not only catch up, but excel in the educational field, considering he never attended school. More than because of Robin, it was one of his teachers the first one to call him Golden Boy, since he considered him a prodigy.

At Gotham Academy you had to take at least one language class to graduate, and it couldn't be one you already knew, but Dick already knew all the ones in the program, so he had to pretend to learn french.

One of my favorite HCs in the fandom is Dick helping out with the Watchtower's computer system, especially considering it could very well be canon (if only today's writers wouldn't forget that Dick is also an amazing hacker and not just a social skills specialist 🙄).

This mentioned, my personal HC to justify all the things that the writers leave out of the character that were once regular in him (and that now belong to his siblings), is that he himself stops making an effort in these things. When he was Robin, he was alone with Batman, so he had the obligation to not only be on par, but to fill all the spaces that Batman left, so he specialized in everything. Now that he has a full team, he no longer has the obligation to cover everything himself, so he allows himself to just continue filling the remaining spaces, mostly related to the social part (when he's not working alone, of course).

This does not mean that he no longer continues to instruct himself in those skills that his siblings have, he does, he is always learning, but he no longer has the need to demonstrate it in any way, so he just lets people even think that he is incompetent in those areas, even if it is the opposite (it helps a lot when you are underestimated on the field after all).

He invented a few insults during his time as Robin, which somehow became a real vocabulary when other heroes and later civilians started using them.

His puppy eyes are too powerful, even as an adult.

Although everyone jokes that he is old because of all his years of experience in the hero thing, Dick actually looks so young.

On a good or bad day (depending on who you ask), it even happens that people ask for his ID to confirm that he is of legal age (usually for drinking). He never knows whether to feel flattered or offended.

I decided to pretend the suit wasn't a bare-legged leotard, mostly because I like to think that the suit was actually his acrobat suit, just with the red vest on top, and since they always draw the suit with the legs part... U know.

It also depends, considering the current continuity, Dick was now born in more modern times, and the tights now usually have covered legs; but if we still place it in the 40s, then it makes more sense that the suit is like the original.

For comfort, I'll pretend that his legs aren't totally bare, also I'll pretend that he has some protection and isn't just walking around with exposed skin to get hurt, even if hitting him with a bullet must be damn difficult because he jumps as a flea.

Toe point and tiptoes, like, A LOT.

He starts babbling random facts about history or math formulas at the most random moments.

He's the kind of person who always knows the answers to people's questions about facts he doesn't really need to know.

"I wonder where the word "'macaroni' originated from"... And he just starts telling you the whole story.

(My father is like that, and I always wonder where he learned all that, my God).

He likes action series. He also likes police and mystery series, but it's a pain to watch this kind of series with him because he keeps guessing the ending and always gets it right.

He also loves black and white movies.

He likes classic rock and jazz music, but has no problem listening to other genres. He also likes pop music, although more bc he likes to annoy his brothers with it.

He is a bit obsessive compulsive, not all the time, and he doesn't have the disorder as such; but sometimes he really needs to be in control of things and follow routines (part of his AUDHD and PTSD speaking for him).

As I said before, I don't think Dick has anger issues, he's just overstimulated, but this doesn't mean he doesn't feel angry or frustrated on many occasions.

When this happens, he has two main ways to let go of his anger... The healthy way is to exercise, train or simply unload his mind while his body is in motion, he also tends to meditate on occasion.

Sometimes it's not so healthy, as he actually lets himself get hurt while training.

The unhealthy way, is to go beat up the thugs.

Sometimes he doesn't let his anger out voluntarily, and ends up exploding against those who don't deserve it. When this happens, it is almost always in verbal form.

Dick doesn't insult directly, but with the eloquence he has, he doesn't need insults to seriously hurt someone.

He can't say that he has never self-harmed, but he doesn't do it in the form of cutting himself, but rather by letting himself get hit or failing to stop particularly painful falls.

Actually, even though he doesn't have the highest self-esteem, he doesn't really have an identity crisis. It doesn't matter that he's a good actor, he never doubts who he is. He doesn't really invent personas in front of anyone, he just shows facets of his personality as appropriate (the only moments where he acts like someone he is not, there is always something of his person even in those roles).

During a certain infamous arc the identity crisis was a little more real, but he recovered from it.

Although he is an acrobat first, he still knows a lot about gymnastics, both men's and also women's actually. More for fun than for training.

Even if he miraculously has free time, instead of resting, he is probably practicing something new.

His friends swear that Dick only stays still when he's dissociating.

And that's all (for now) ✨

I've repeated some of them on purpose to make the explanation more explicit- but I hope most of them still make sense.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine the red hair pirates helping you with your depression

Unfortunately, it's that time of year when seasonal depression, and regular depression team up and beat my ass. So new content will come slower than usual, and I'm sorry about that, but appreciate your patience and understanding.

Shanks: *enters your room* are you gonna get up anytime soon.

You: *in a cocoon of blankets* I don't want to.

Shanks: *stares at you for a minute* are you okay?

You: no

Shanks: should I get Hongo?

You: there's nothing he can do for me.

Shanks: *thinks back to Roger's illness* ... What sort of illness do you have exactly?

You: depression,

Shanks: oh... Well staying in bed isn't going to help

You: I don't have the energy to get out of bed

Shanks: then let me do it for you, *scoops up your cocoon and carries you outside* sun light ought to do you a lotta good.

Hongo: what's going on?

Shank: they're depressed.

Hongo: oh, I have just the thing for that *goes into his office*

Benn: hmm, I suffered from depression as a young man.

You: back in the Stone Age?

Benn: *playfully rolls his eyes* yes, back in the Stone Age. My life kind of fell apart because I couldn't care for myself. I could not wash my clothes, or bath, or brush my teeth.

Shanks: that explains the state of their room then.

Benn: elaborate

Shanks: their laundry bin was overflowing, trash on the floor, and the whole room was dark and smelt bad.

Benn: ... Cleaning it would probably help them recover.

Shanks: would you go evaluate the room and see what needs to be done.

Benn: we're probably gonna have to clean it top to bottom, I will go get some volunteers.

Hongo: *comes back* no I need you to eat these supplements, and this mushroom.

Benn: how come they get to have some of your hallucinogens.

Hongo: multiple studies have shown they're very effective at treating depression long term and because they're mine, and I get to decide who to give them to.

Shanks: *pulls open your cocoon, and hands you a cup of water.*

While you are tripping

The crew: * cleans your room, does your laundry, and puts said laundry away*

Hongo: I think the main cause is seasonal depression, they were fine a month ago when the light was at its fullest.

Shanks: hmm, would installing another window in their room help?

Hongo: probably.

Shanks: okay, while the shipwright does that, (y/n) can stay in my room.

Benn: you just wanna fuck them.

Shanks: A few orgasms would probably do them some good. Plus I can help them better if they're close to me.

Hongo: he's right, but you need to make sure you're not taking advantage of them.

Lucky Roux: we also need to make sure they're eating, I noticed a while ago that they're only having one meal a day.

You: eating is inconvenient, and having a corporeal body is like being stuck with a pet you don't want.

Shanks: *pulls your head into his lap and strokes your hair and shushes you* sh sh sh, I know darling, I know.

Hongo: we should also make sure they exercise more, in fact we all should.

Benn: we can take up daily training practice.

Shanks: totally

You: I dun wanna

Benn: well I expect you to at least try it out for a week, if it doesn't help then you can quit.

You: really?

Benn: no

You: aww

Benn: we'll find a nice activity you like, or don't mind.

You: ugh fine

Shanks: thank you

You: ... You have pretty eyes, kinda like storm clouds

Shanks: we should get you high more often.

You: do we have any music snails?

Shanks: *pulls out his collection of Uta's music* Yes we do.

List of Up-and-coming works || Masterlist || Twitter

Support me on Kofi and Patreon

[hd-erised]

We are over halfway through @hd-erised—isn't that exciting? It's been another fantastic week filled with art and fic and, as always, we hope you've been enjoying the fabulous submissions!

We hope you'll  take a moment to check out anything you might have missed this week, and don't forget to check our Week 1 and Week 2 round-ups for even more goodies. And, of course, please don't forget to leave a comment for our lovely artists and writers who make this fest the incredible experience that it is!! <3

Art:

Unemployed and On Guard for @makeitp1nk [T]

No One but Me for justlikewriting [M]

Fic:

Second Chance Resort for @elizah321[E, ~42,800]

A holiday forced on him by his friends after the latest in a long string of failed relationships might be a chance for Harry to relax, but all that is thrown up in the air by the appearance of one newly divorced Draco Malfoy. Mainly because they had been together almost fifteen years ago before Draco broke it off to marry the woman his mother chose for him… Feat. a matchmaking hotel, a spa day, an all-knowing Weasley, and friends who do try their best, but can get a little distracted.

Seven-and-sixpence for @oknowkiss [E, ~35,700]

The entire plan of Harry’s life had been defeat evil, become an Auror, marry Ginny. Not necessarily in that order, but it seemed to be going that way, the first two managed and the third in easy limbo. He can be better, though. He can be more. Draco will see to it.

Slip Slidin’ Your Way (In a Land of Fire and Ice) for @frm9pm [T, ~9,800]

How does a war-scarred young wizard recuperate and create a new identity? Harry opens himself to the magic of the land. Draco learns to wonder at the humblest of creatures. Years later, Magigeologist Evan Jameson and Malacologist Derek Black begin an enthusiastic correspondence. They’re in for a shock when they finally meet. Or: Science nerds go to Iceland and fall in love. Or: Why should kelp have all the fun?

Pillar of Salt for @agentmoppet [E, ~62,200]

From the lake in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco knows three things: 1. Mirror universes exist, and he’s going to find the best one—the one where he did the right thing. 2. Harry Potter and him are awfully cosy in some of these other universes, whereas Potter in real life is starting to act very odd around him indeed. 3. Draco’s reflection—the mirror version of him, the worst version of him—seems to be growing crueler. And stronger.

Prescription for @fantalfart [G, ~2,600]

Draco couldn't say he hated his job, not really. In fact, he loved it⁠—and wasn't that something surprising, a Malfoy being a Healer, when most of them hadn't worked a day in their lives?—and most of all, he loved knowing that he was helping people heal, above anything else. (And if there was a part of him that craved the normalcy of something that helped instead of what he had been taught to do his entire life? Well. That was between himself and his journal when he remembered to write in it.) (And maybe there was another reason too.)

Old love don't rust for @drarrydoodles [E, ~20,600]

“Why do you keep coming?” Malfoy asked at last. Harry mulled over the question. For a moment he debated trying to turn the tables and asking Malfoy the very same thing. But this time he didn’t want to hold back. “Because I can’t stop,” Harry said.

Equipoise for khalulu [T, ~88,200]

Ten years of peace have settled over the wizarding world, leaving Harry Potter feeling strangely adrift. Teaching Defense at Hogwarts is fine and all, but when mysterious magical blackouts start sweeping across the country, he can't help but jump at the chance to investigate. It would be the perfect outlet for his restless energy - if he didn't suddenly find himself tangled up in an elaborate charade, pretending to date the Prophet's most illustrious journalist, Draco Malfoy. Between hunting down the cause of the blackouts and maintaining their ruse, Harry's beginning to think that peacetime might actually be trickier - and far more surprising - than he'd bargained for.

Victory Lap for @traylalascrisis [E, ~4,700]

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat first.” For emphasis, he pinches the skin at my waist. I want to cover myself in him. I want to roll in him like a dog. I want to devolve on top of him. And he wants me to sit nicely and use a knife and fork first?

[merakiui]

Hi Mera hope you had a wonderful day night!

I was wondering who you thought, out of the test boys, would be the most likely to try to steal you away from your partner? (Also can I be >_< Anon?)

Hi hiiii, >_< anon!!!! :D omg this is a fun question!!! I think these are the characters who would try to steal you from your partner:

✧ Riddle - if your partner is anyone from Octavinelle (i.e. the trio), Riddle is working overtime to find a way to get you out of there... T^T he will not have you succumb to the bad influences that are the Leech twins and Azul. Riddle has such strict criteria a person must meet in order for them to even be perceived by him as your partner, and no one's managed to earn his approval yet, thus your current partner is not worthy of being called your partner. Quite ironic how he's the only one who can fit into his own criteria. Perhaps he's just destined to be your boyfriend after all. :)

✧ Ace - it's for such a shallow reason, too. He just wants what he doesn't have. T_T especially if you're Deuce's partner. Ace just likes to be a menace, but in being a menace he unintentionally falls for you and now he's really determined to make you his.

✧ Trey - he does it so subtly!!!! You won't even know Trey's aiming to steal you from your partner when he packages leftover baked goods and sends them your way or when he texts you good morning/good night. He's just being friendly, but Trey knows the way to anyone's heart is through delicious food (his boy-next-door charm is just an added bonus). He's hard at work learning all of your gastronomic preferences so that he can effectively win your affections. That, and he's surprisingly discreet with his flirting (whether he intends to be or not).

✧ Cater - it really depends with Cater. He's so good at being a social butterfly, and he knows just how to pop in and snatch you away from your partner for fun photo ops. He just loves being around you, so much so that he may end up third-wheeling you and your partner. He invites himself into your life and before you realize it you're hanging out more and more with Cater than you are with your partner. But it's okay! You don't really need your partner anyway, do you? Not when you have Cay-Cay!

✧ Leona - he knows he's king in Savanaclaw, so it's absolutely mind-boggling to him that you'd settle for some herbivore at the bottom of the food chain. Leona doesn't even have to try very hard to steal you from your partner. He has such an enticing, confident energy about him. That, and no one's going to try to go against the Leona Kingscholar. You might as well start calling yourself (Name) Kingscholar now because your partner can never hope to compete with Leona. <3

✧ Ruggie - also another one that's situation-dependent. If Ruggie truly does like you, then he's willing to exert the energy to come up with a sly scheme to separate you and your partner. He's very good at it, too. Immensely sneaky. >:) you'll never even know he was the reason for the inevitable split.

✧ Azul - it's tako. Envy and greed are such a potent, destructive combination, and he wants you all to himself.

✧ Jade - he's willing to play the long game. Jade will make your partner wish they never even fell in love with you. He is so refined and ruthless in the way he goes about pursuing you while also pulling strings to slowly but surely integrate himself into your life. Your partner won't stand a chance.

✧ Floyd - he's quick with it. No mind games or elaborate cons needed. He'll beat your partner up and collect you in the aftermath.

✧ Jamil - he's doing everything behind the scenes, and it all comes together in a devastatingly neat package. Jamil keeps track of his lies, expertly weaving a web that ultimately leaves you ensnared and partner-less in the very end. You don't need to worry about details. Jamil will be vague and terse about it. :)

✧ Kalim - he does it unintentionally (or maybe he's fully aware of it). Kalim has so much love for you, so it hurts him when he sees how happy you are with your partner. :( he wants to be in that spot! He wants you to call him your boyfriend and he wants to be able to hold and kiss you and take you on dates. He lavishes you with extravagant gifts under the guise of friendship and constantly shows up to your dates. It's pure coincidence, but Kalim has a way of making you and your partner feel so suffocated because neither of you can ever get a word in with him. In the aftermath of your heartbreak, Kalim's there to pick up the pieces.

✧ Vil - ooooo Vil....... he has so much to say about your partner. So many critiques to give. He is the biggest hater when it comes to your relationship. It should be him you call your beloved, not that sorry spud who calls themself your partner. Vil knows his worth and that it’s pointless to compete when he will ultimately be the victor. He constantly checks up on your social media to see if that taken status ever changes, but it will in due time. Vil knows how to play this role flawlessly.

✧ Rook - it's Rook. If Rook doesn't drive your partner away because of how strange he is, then he will stalk you from the shadows until paranoia and dread nearly consume you and drive you into isolation. You'll spend less time with your partner because now you're too afraid to go out, lest you run into your stalker. Rook will come to collect you soon. He shan't make the love of his life wait any longer!

✧ Epel - maybe he's trying to prove that he can get a partner, or maybe he's just feeling competitive knowing that your partner has you and he doesn't. Epel knows he should be your partner, so he's determined to win you over, even if it means he has to act, Great Seven forbid, cute to achieve his goals.

✧ Malleus - it's likely unintentional. Perhaps a passing comment about how he's interested in you and suddenly all of Diasomnia is vowing to bring you and Malleus together. Whoever was dating you immediately breaks up with you when they find out Malleus is crushing on you. There are just some battles you shouldn't fight...

✧ Lilia - love is war, so Lilia might play a little unfairly when he finds himself enthralled. He can't help it for being so devilishly cute! Of course you'd fall for him and his adorable charms, too. Who wouldn't? He's old, so he has plenty of experience in the art of romantic warfare. He's determined.

✧ Neige - it is absolutely intentional and he's so obvious about it. >_< Neige is so obsessed with you!!!! He wants you all to himself, so could your partner do him a favor and break up with you so that Neige can have you instead? :D and no one could possibly say no to Neige! He's just so sweet and so famous and he could ruin your partner with his sheer influence alone. But he won't. <3 so long as he gets to have you hehe.

✧ Rollo - he disapproves of everyone you date. It doesn't matter if they're a decent person; he dislikes them regardless. Anyone who isn't him is undeserving of being your partner. Only Rollo can fill that space, and he fully intends to do so in his own little ways. You'll tell your partner that you're only joining the student council president for breakfast because you want to be friendly, but it's during these meetings where Rollo acts like his charming, cordial self. He reserves rare smiles for you and is genuinely upstanding and sweet. But only for you. And soon you'll fall for him. At least, that's what he hopes will happen. If not, he can resort to drastic measures. Anything for you.

[kaeichi]

love is in the air.

. . . and maybe that's why mikage reo can view the world with such clouded, pink-hued vision, and why nagi seishiro cannot breathe at all.

series. nagi + reader + reo. no gendered terms, but some implications of m! reader. reader likes boys. bestfriend! nagi. valentines/white day. highschool setting. swearing. humor. fluff & angst.

a/n. repost bc it wasnt showing up in tags T-T i js want a shoujo anime w these two as the MLs...

prev ┊ next ┊ 01 … 02 … 03

⊹ 01 : my dear partner [wc: 4.7k]

TWO YEARS AGO

“…dude. you're scaring all the hoes away.” 

nagi watches your lips move, though he barely registers anything you've been saying since he has stopped listening a while ago—which, honestly, comes as no surprise to anyone.

there’s no real reason to be so lethargic at this hour (it's already late noon, plus he surprisingly had a decent amount of sleep the previous night for once), nor the time to think about trivial things, but he can’t help but think about how exactly every single thing stopped being so bothersome like it used to.

he can't quite pinpoint what brought on this gradual change, but if he had to, then it’d probably be three springs ago—when he’d wake up a little earlier than usual to the gentle kiss of the sun through his window and the cherry blossoms were in perfect bloom. around that time is when he’d received his quiet companion choki, he’d finally scored top 1 in the leaderboards after months and months of grinding in his favorite mobile game, and… when you’d first sat next to him in middle school.

for as long as he remembers, you were simply just there. an unexpected oddity that has not only forced its way through, but has also wedged firmly into every aspect in his life. and somehow, he’d concluded that maybe some things weren't so bad—that some things weren't such a hassle to him after all.

“move, idiot. at this point you might as well hold my hand.” the snow-haired male barely hears your voice over his wandering thoughts, stumbling from the light shove you give him. he has now become acutely aware of your swinging hand, wary of the close proximity and the faint buzz of static that lingers on his skin. huh. maybe it is better to move away.

still, he’d rather not reposition himself. it’s too much work, he’d like to reason, and it's certainly not because of anything else… maybe. he doesn't really know for sure. what he does know though, is that the space beside him suddenly feels strangely empty. 

when he looks at you to see a pout forming on your lips, he can't help but sigh. you're being unreasonable. there's something that's been nagging his curiosity for a while now, and it took him quite a bit to realize what it is.

“seishirooo,” you whined one day, allowing your head to sink against his mattress, taking up nearly the whole space while nagi sits at the corner of the bed. you came over to his place that day to bother him, stating that you needed some comfort because apparently, “no one ever looks at me. i feel so damn invisible.” he shrugged and offered you his controller, challenging you to a 1v1 with him as a distraction.

“…but i look at you all the time?” he replied.

“yeah, but that's different.” and he would've asked you to elaborate more, if not for the fact that you've been horribly vague about it when he does ask, and the perpetually sleepy gamer only has so much patience before he gives up and decides it's something not worth spending his energy on.

besides, you're always emotional like that. this was probably just another one of your fleeting phases.

it's not until he notices you've been longingly gazing at the couples on the campus, quietly seething under your breath that it finally clicks. now, he may not have the greatest understanding when it comes to feelings and all its complexities, but even he can tell you’re reeking with jealousy.

despite being pushed off only seconds ago, nagi shuffles closer again as he falls into step beside you. even if sparks prick his skin, it feels right in this way. “dunno why you ‘need’ hoes when you already have me.”

“just because i'm into guys doesn’t mean that i like you in that way,” you mutter, sending him an odd glance like you thought there’s something wrong with his head for even suggesting that. not knowing how to respond, he settles for staring right back without a word. 

“what's with that look? you know what i mean, seishiro.” you continue, averting your gaze from him. what look? he asks internally. “it's just, well, literally everyone is getting into relationships. and i know we're still first years, but… it just feels like i’m missing out, y’know? 

“do you really? sounds like a hassle to me,” he shrugs, and it truly does—he never saw the appeal of dumb crushes, of drama nearly every day, of possible unrequited “love,” or of wasting half your time and energy on someone just for it to not mean anything at all in the end. video games sound way more fun, and way less heartbreak inducing.

“you can't say that when you haven’t even experienced it,” you argue, still pouting.

“it’s overrated anyways. being single is better.”

“hah! of course you’d say that, you virgin.” 

“you’re one to talk,” nagi boredly quips. “i’m celibate purely by choice, but you on the other hand… if you really think about it, you're basically an incel.”

nearly choking on your spit, you exclaim, “hah?!”

“you don't even really talk to other guys except for me, and on top of that, you're barely approached by anybody,” he explains in a matter-of-fact tone, oblivious to the way his best friend’s confidence waning rapidly by the second the more he speaks.

“yeah? and who’s fault is it, you cockblocker!” 

nagi simply sticks a tongue out as you flip him off.

right after that, the two of you ended up breaking into a sprint as you heard the clicking sound of heels walking on the tiles around the corner, not wanting to get caught for skipping classes. well, you ran, and just dragged him by the wrist. he felt the warmth of your fingers even through the thick barrier of his baggy sleeve.

PRESENT

you try not to trip and fall face first as a cold hand guides you through the crowded hallway.

it's embarrassing enough as it is to be rushing through the middle of the corridor and pushing past the bodies of random students like you're a main character or some sort, but even more so when the (apparently) most popular guy of the campus that you’ve (never) seen is walking right in front of you.

and it gets even more humiliating when said popular guy has taken hostage of your wrist, leading you away to a more secluded area. shocked, harsh whispers echo throughout nearly the whole floor, and multiple eyes shoot daggers at the fingers wrapped around the sleeve of your uniform, and you’ve never wanted to bury yourself alive more than this moment.

after rounding a corner into a miraculously empty hallway, you finally skid to a stop, yanking your hand away, ready to pounce at the culprit who made you go through all that unnecessary attention. however, before you can get a word in, the refined male bows his head low in front of you, and you find yourself face-to-face with sleek purple locks.

“i’m sorry, but i have no time for dating. i’m really flattered, though. i hope we can stay friends still.” he hurriedly says, hope gleaming in his matching purple eyes.

…what. 

who is he again? and why is he rejecting you?

for some reason, you find the stranger’s gaze too bright that you have to look away; so you do exactly that, tilting your chin downwards instead and letting your hair mask your expression.

after a few beats of silence, he clears his throat. “i'm really sorry, it hurts me to see you look so down… i’m sure we can put this behind us and—”

“nice shoes,” you interrupt, still not raising your head to meet his now confused stare. “i can tell you really love wearing them, judging by the busted, worn out stitches. hey, is it just me or is that prada logo kinda wonky too?”

the male's jaw drops down nearly all the way to the floor.

“pardon me?” he says through gritted teeth, keeping his composure by flashing his usual award-winning smile, albeit a lot more stiffer. “i know i just rejected you, but you don't have to be so hostile…” 

when you finally raise your head, your expression can only be described as terribly and solemnly unamused, unimpressed beyond words.

then, you suddenly lean closer, peering closely into his violet irises with thoughtful hum. an unwilling flush of red creeps on the tips of the boy’s ears, his eyes widening comically at the sudden intrusion of space. “you’ll do,” nodding to yourself, you now grab his wrist and pull him away. “come.”

“w-wait, huh? where are we go—” 

“you're the one who made me late. let's go!”

reo isn't quite sure why he's the one being dragged away now.

he has only initially planned to gently turn down the person who last confessed to him, whose family just so happened to be related to his father’s business partners—but now he somehow finds himself on a whole date with that person? (the same one who brazenly insulted him by implying his shoes are fake, by the way!)

“i have other plans today, you know…” the heir says, subtly trying to inch away from you.

you tug him back by his sleeve, with twice as much force than he had used on you earlier. “i can imagine, my dear partner.”

“w-what?” reo stutters, and he's cringes at himself for how he's acting at the moment. the usually composed and charming mikage reo, now reduced to a stuttering and blushing mess? how embarrassing.

“normally my best friend would do this with me, but he slept in today.” leave it to seishiro to leave me all alone on the day that actually matters, you irritatedly mutter under your breath. “well, whatever. come on.”

as you and him enter the packed bubble tea shop, the fingers that were wrapped around his sleeve slides down to interlace with reo’s own clammy ones. he realizes this a second too late, and before he has the chance to let go, the clerk by the entrance greets them with an enthusiastic “welcome, lovebirds!”

“huh?!” reo’s jaw slackens, dumbfounded. he’s really starting to hate himself now—it's unbecoming of him, really, but it's hard to process everything when you're so close to him that the scent of your shampoo keeps invading his senses and subsequently messing with his head.

“here’s your special tickets for today. thank you for participating, and happy valentines!” you drag him straight to the back, where the colorful claw machines are set up. reo catches a glimpse of the pink posters set up on the walls of the quaint shop, which reads: couples get free special tickets! today only! …ah. that's why he's here.

“aoi-san… you're gripping too tight,” he says, gritting his teeth together into a forced smile. 

“aoi?” you repeat, your grip finally loosening until you let go entirely. “huh… i see. by the way, what's your name again?”

needless to say, the purple-haired male is beyond perplexed. “is this your unique attempt at a joke or something?”

“come on, rich boy. we've held hands and i don’t even know your name!” 

“right… which i totally wasn't being forced to do…” he lets out an awkward laugh. sure, some admirers of his tend to get a tad excessive, but they were never able to get far with him, much less forcibly drag him out on a date—and it's not even because they want him to spend his unlimited budget on them and spoil them rotten, but just so they can get… a free special ticket for a claw machine. how did he end up getting in this bizarre situation? more importantly, how does he get out?

you simply shrug. “your fault, rich boy. you should try thinking about anyone other than yourself for once.”

“excuse me?” he narrows his eyes, slightly peeved. he's had enough of your rude attitude; potential business partner or not, he hopes that he never has to interact with you again in the future. “stop calling me that. i have a name, and it's mikage reo.”

the way your eyes widen doesn't go unnoticed by him. “and what did you even mean by that?” he presses defensively.

you plop down on the seat, with reo mirroring you as you insert the rouge ticket decorated with pink hearts into the slot of the claw machine. “well, mikage reo. i’m sure you're aware how aoi’s family is important, right?”

yeah, this person is definitely a weirdo, reo muses. who refers to themselves in third person?

“i heard they had connections everywhere… just like you. it's crucial to maintain a good relationship with someone like that, right?” you conclude—that would explain why reo had taken the time to personally talk to “aoi” one-on-one instead of just flat out rejecting them on the spot.

reo tilts his head to the side. “i’m not following…?”

“mikage.” you emphasize, looking at him straight in the eye before turning your attention back to playing. “i’m saying that the poor kid’s still waiting for an answer. your heartfelt and sincere rejection, to be exact.”

a few seconds of silence pass. well, as silent as it can be with the loud chattering of the crowd and the mechanical whirrs of the claw machine you're currently messing with resounding in the air.

“you mean, you're not…” reo trails off, all color draining from his face. “i’m so, so sorr—”

“aoi’s the one you should apologize to, not me. oh, i got a double! how lucky.” you eagerly grab the prize, the limited edition valentine’s merch exclusive to this boba shop; a plushie collectible that comes with a redeemable code for your favorite video game. you want to collect all of them, but you’re broke as hell and you’re only here due to the free ticket. turning to reo, you shove the second plushie to his chest. “here, this is for you. since you did help me out with getting these.”

“ah, thank you…” reo absentmindedly accepts the small toy, still reeling on how he could make such a careless mistake. “listen, i do apologize—”

“i wonder how'd you even mix us up. is it ‘cause we have the same hair color?” you ask, slightly amused because aside from that, you and aoi look nothing alike. your fingers tap on the surface of the control panel, observing reo’s shame-stricken visage. “or maybe… is it because everyone just looks the same to you?”

at that moment, mikage reo realizes two things: (1) maybe he's more transparent and vulnerable than he thinks, and (2) you're dangerous, and it's better to stay far, far away from you. how could you see right through him so quickly? what if that's something you'll use against him?

he doesn't like to admit it, but it's true—in his perspective, everyone's the same. they're just after him for money and status, and at some point, they've all just become faceless, superficial pawns vying for his attention.

and of course, you’re no exemption.

noticing he’s gone quiet, you continue, “but i guess if my world was as vast as yours, i couldn't possibly keep up with everything either, so i get it. i’m not saying i’m in the same situation as you, but i can kind of relate, i guess. i only keep the ones who's important to me close, and the rest just exist and do whatever. i’m selective, but in that way, at least i can give my all to the ones that really matter.”

reo closes his mouth shut. here you are casually saying that you don't matter to him, and while that isn't a lie in the slightest, he still can't help but feel guilty. maybe it's just the people-pleaser in him, or maybe it’s the way the corners of your lips are slightly quirked up and to form a miniscule, accepting smile, but he wants to reassure you, “still, i’m sure you feel that—”

“i don’t.” you don't mind that he didn't know you, because you didn't even know him either—there’s no reason for you to take it personal. you’d be a hypocrite otherwise. “i really don’t.”

you smile at him. he thinks it's out of understanding, but unbeknownst to him you're actually just entertained by how his inner turmoil is so clearly reflected on his expression. “so don’t worry about it. plus, we’re even now.” you add, gesturing towards the prize.

hopping off the stool, you wave at him as you start to walk away. “...happy valentines. i'll see you around, mikage. maybe. er, probably not.”

“wait!” he hurriedly jumps off the stool as well, clutching the plushie in his hand as he follows after you. “i… let me drive you home.” the words stumble out before he even realizes what he's saying. you're probably just using him, and you're dangerous, and you see right through him, and he should stop wasting his time because his actual valentine's date is probably three seconds away from storming out the restaurant he's booked at—

so why is he doing this?

“drive?” you repeat, because of course he’d have a driver. damn rich people, you think internally. “nuh uh. it's like a ten minute walk, and i’d rather save the environment.”

“then i’ll walk with you.”

“you do realize i’m done dragging you for the day, right?” you quirk a brow up, amused; you could've sworn he was itching to get the hell away half an hour ago. “you're free. you can go home if you want.”

reo smiles, a more genial one this time. “i know.”

“so, you into popular guys now?” 

“hell no.”

nagi narrows his eyes at you. “you’re just into reo, then?” 

while you expected to be grilled first thing in the morning by random people about your apparent relationship with mikage reo (to which you simply replied, “i don’t know who that is, sorry,” and proceeded to run away), you didn't expect to be interrogated by your apathetic best friend as well. 

usually, nagi prefers to be completely silent during the 1st period (and actually all the way through lunch), not bothering to utter more than a few words, but today, he seems uncharacteristically on edge, waiting for you at the corner of the gym with a wrinkle between his brows.

“why are you on a first name basis with him?”

“everyone calls him reo.” he shrugs. “why him?”

“i never said i was into him.”

“then what's all that partner thing about?” he asks, which confuses you a bit. you doubt that reo would go around announcing to everyone how you teasingly called him ‘partner’ and practically dragged him to a date against his will, but it's not like him and nagi are close either, so you wonder where nagi has heard this information from. then, you suddenly recall back to yesterday, where you saw the curtain of your neighbor’s bedroom window swinging side-to-side, as if it was drawn close a mere second before you looked up. 

it seems that your mind wasn't playing tricks with you after all, and that a certain someone was eavesdropping on your conversation with reo as he walked you to your door.

“fake partners, you mean? and it was a just a joke—i met him that day.”

“that day? why are you acting so close if you've just met that day?”

“you're awfully talkative today, seishiro.” 

“i know. it's making me exhausted, and it's all your fault.” he then presses his weight against you, leaning his forehead on your shoulder—as he always does when he's tired and you're within reach. your eyes widen immediately, darting around the gymnasium to see if any of your classmates has noticed.

you don't want people to get the wrong idea about you two. it's not because it kills your chances with anyone due to the assumption that you aren't single (which you still very much are, by the way), or even because of potential issues of being a two-timer due to a certain rich boy—it's just that whenever you get asked if you and your best friend are together, you can't help but flinch from the idea, like ice is being poured inside the back of your shirt. you don’t really know what to call it, but you do know that you've answered the question a hundred times and you're positively sick of it.

“i told you to stop doing this in public,” you hiss, trying to push the giant, clingy sloth off you. “and stop whining, nagi. i’m not going anywhere. besides, i’m not even looking for a relationship or anything like that. not after… you know, what happened during our first year.”

he lifts his head up, frowning at you. “don’t call me nagi. just ‘cause you met a new guy doesn't mean you get to call me nagi.” 

you raise an unimpressed brow. what’s his problem? “only if you stop whining.” 

“…‘m not.” he slurs his words together, only proving your point.

“yes you are!”

“why do you have to be so annoying? you're such a pain,” he sighs, now walking away from you.

“i'm the annoying one?! and don't call me a pain, you—!” without hesitation, you promptly snatch a red ball from the steel ball cart beside you before swinging your arm at him, slamming the dodgeball right to his head. well, you tried to, at least; even with his back facing towards you, nagi only takes one step to the side to avoid it.

“your shitty aim sucks balls,” the tall male comments unenthusiastically, his white fringe falling over his eyes as he gazes at you over his shoulder. his nonchalance only spurs you on, now hauling multiple dodgeballs at him.

“how about you suck my ba—”

“give it up already. you're never gonna hit me.” and nagi actually has the audacity to yawn mid-dodge. of course, it only fuels your irritation even more. you eventually run out of balls to throw, so you mindlessly grab the nearest object to your right and chuck that as well.

…which unfortunately, happens to be nagi’s phone that he's snuck inside the gym, peeking under a face towel on the bench.

“oh, fu—” 

because of your (rightfully) so-called shitty aim, it swung way up high to the left, a few steps away from nagi. in less than a second, he realizes what you have flung at him, and his body moves instinctively; he throws himself towards it, swinging his leg upward and trapping it with his foot with perfect ease before it has the chance to plummet down on the floor.

“why are you making me move so much…” he sighs. “what a pain.” 

“you’re supposed to move anyways, we're in PE. you're welcome,” you smugly reason out. and then not even a second later you fold, shoulders curling inwards as you glance toward his phone; if it weren't for his godly reflexes, you would've broken it. with a small voice, you meekly add, “sorry.”

nagi shrugs in response.

when he saunters over to place his phone on the bench again, a silver glint catches your eye. a small charm swings lightly, small beads of white and black strung haphazardly together attached to the side of his phone case.

“wait, this is…” a phone charm crafted by hand, which is your birthday present for him four years ago. “i didnt know you still had that.”

“why wouldn't i?”

“where was it this whole time? this wasn't here a few days ago.”

“i just kept it in my drawer ‘cause i don’t wanna lose it.”

tilting your head to the side, you ask, “so why'd you suddenly decide to attach it to your phone now?”

he looks away, scratching the back of his neck. “…dunno.” 

eyes dropping into slits, you mutter, “you know, that kinda sounds sus—”

“hey! that was amazing! nagi, right? you should play soccer with me!”

nagi and yourself both turn to the direction of the sudden voice, seeing a familiar figure running towards you, vivid purple eyes gleaming under the gymnasium’s stark white lights.

“mikage?” you exclaim.

ever so slightly, nagi sharpens his usual droopy eyes. “nah.” he immediately says, turning on his heel.

“seishiro? wait, weren't you supposed to be looking for a club?”

“don’t really care.” you follow him, lightly jogging to keep up. as soon as you catch up by his side, the taller male glances at you as he asks, “will you join too?”

is he seriously asking you that… “no?”

“then i won't.” nagi concludes as he continues to walk away from reo.

“hey, wait up!” reo calls out, placing a hand on your shoulder. “ah, i was completely shut down… say, will you help me convince him?”

your brows shoot up as your gaze flicks down where he's casually touching you. after your initial confusion of who he is yesterday, you then recognize him after learning his name—the most popular boy in school, known for his good looks, charisma, and most especially, his wealth. he gets along well with literally everyone, and acts genuinely close with them even if they aren't.

“uh, why should i?”

“remember that limited edition merch you like? i can get you the rest of the collection. in fact, i’ll even buy out the whole place just for you.”

“wha– seriously?” you feel your eye twitch. damn rich people. “it was limited edition. they all ran out of stock already.”

“i have my ways.” well, that's not shady at all. he flashes a grin at your skepticism, winking at you, “anything for my partner.”

and you now understand why he's earned his title. this is probably how he always gets what he wants—with a smile like that, anyone would drop to their knees and do whatever he’d ask. two years ago, you would've keeled over for attention like this, but now, you're nothing but indifferent.

he places his hands on both of your shoulders now, completely stopping you from taking off. wide violet eyes scrutinize your own, making you scrunch your nose at the close proximity. “shouldn't you be begging him and not me?”

“yeah, but...” reo swears he feels an air of animosity radiating from the white-haired male, and that's why he has decided to turn you instead. “you wouldn't leave your partner hanging, right? as partners, we help each other out, riiiight?” he says, dragging his words out.

you lean as far as you physically can from his grip, but he doesn't seem to care, excitedly looking at you with stars evident in his eyes. “mikage, you—” he smiles at you, bright and blinding, and you find yourself withering under his intense gaze. “okay, fine, just—”

“well, that's settled then! they’re joining the club too, nagi seishiro. they can be our manager.” you briefly wonder why he didn't outright offer to have you join the team, but he probably saw how you threw the dodgeballs earlier… though it's not like you have to use your hands in soccer, so what the hell, this is kind of insulting.

“says who, mikage?”

“you're gonna come watch all our games?” he negotiates.

“why don’t you offer that i join the team?”

“ahahaha. haha. hah.” he laughs awkwardly, swinging an arm around your shoulder and ultimately evading your question.

because you were too busy trying to shrug him off, you miss the way nagi’s eyes zero on to reo’s arm around you, wordlessly observing the whole interaction with his lips pressed taut.

you still don’t know why reo hasn't moved away; he's so close that you can see the dark amethyst specks in his irises, the long strands that frame his face are lightly tickling your cheek, and if you lean in even just an inch, you can practically—

“you said anything i want, right?” your voice drops to a low whisper, and reo nods slowly, still seemingly oblivious to the lack of space between you.

“then... what if i said i wanted a kiss?”

reo’s smile drops immediately, recoiling away from you as if you've slapped him, his whole entire face heating up all the way to the tips of his ears. finally out of his grasp, you erupt into boisterous laughter, shaking your head as you leave the flustered boy alone and catching up to nagi.

likes/reblogs/feedback appreciated ♡

[muiitoloko]

I don't wanna be annoying but can we please have another sequel to the unscripted love? You can keep it in the back burner for now so you can do other people's requests first tho! I like the idea of the reader and Alan reading fanfiction lol and maybe maybeeeeee while reader reads, Alan suddenly gets the idea of recreating it 😩. Like he'll stop whenever reader stops reading too haha. Just a thought but you totally don't have to do it! I just love your stories so much! Any update from you I try to read immediately ♡♡♡

Title: Cloaked in Love

Summary: Alan’s playful impersonation of Severus Snape leads to laughter and a deepened connection during a well-deserved break from your hectic lives.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem! Reader

Warnings: none.

Author's Notes: You’re not annoying at all—trust me, I love hearing your ideas! 😄 The thought of Alan getting inspired by some fanfiction and deciding to recreate it? *chef’s kiss* I’m definitely intrigued! I’m so glad you’re enjoying the stories! Thanks for the love and support—now I just need to make sure Alan doesn’t get too carried away with those fanfics! 😉

First, Second and Third part here.

Also read on Ao3

Weeks passed before you and Alan could finally meet in person, the whirlwind of your respective projects keeping you both on the move. You traveled from country to country, promoting your film, attending premieres, and juggling endless interviews. Alan, in the meantime, was busy filming A Little Chaos, and while you kept in touch through calls and messages, it wasn’t the same as being with him. The distance began to wear on you, the days stretching longer as you counted down to the moment you could finally be together again.

So, when your schedule finally allowed for a day off, instead of resting in London as you’d planned, you decided to surprise Alan on set. The thought of seeing him, of being close to him again, filled you with a bubbling excitement that made the exhaustion of travel seem insignificant. You missed him more than you’d realized, and the idea of waiting another day just to see him was unbearable.

Upon arriving at the set, you were greeted with a mix of excitement and surprise. Fans who had gathered around the area recognized you immediately, and you spent a few minutes signing autographs and posing for pictures, all the while trying to keep your nerves in check. The thrill of seeing Alan again was tempered by the knowledge that your relationship was still a secret, something you both had agreed to keep under wraps until the time was right.

Finally, one of Alan’s assistants appeared and offered to take you to where he was. You followed eagerly, your heart pounding with anticipation as you walked through the bustling set. The grandeur of the production was evident in every detail—the elaborate costumes, the intricate sets, the palpable energy that came with creating a period piece. It was all very impressive, but your focus was solely on Alan.

As you approached the area where he was taking his lunch break, you spotted him immediately. He was sitting at one of the tables, fully dressed as King Louis XIV, albeit without the wig, his regal attire a striking contrast to the casual conversations he was having with the crew around him. His hazel eyes were alight with that familiar warmth, and his deep, baritone voice carried across the set, drawing you in like a magnet.

For a moment, you stood there, simply watching him. The way he carried himself, even in costume, was unmistakably Alan—graceful, commanding, yet somehow effortlessly charming. He was in his element, and the sight of him made your heart swell with affection. You had missed him more than you’d realized, and now that you were so close, the longing you’d kept at bay for weeks surged to the surface.

Finally, you began to approach, your footsteps light and quick as you made your way to the table. Alan noticed you almost immediately, his eyes widening in pleasant surprise as he recognized you. He had clearly not expected you to be there, and the delighted smile that spread across his face made all the effort of getting there worth it.

“Well, well, what a surprise,” Alan said, his voice warm and rich with genuine pleasure. He stood up from the table, his tall, thick figure cutting an impressive figure even without the royal wig. “I thought you weren’t returning to London until tomorrow.”

You grinned, unable to contain your excitement as you closed the distance between you. “I couldn’t wait,” you admitted, your voice filled with affection as you looked up at him. “I missed you, Alan. I just had to see you.”

Alan’s smile softened, his hazel eyes searching yours with a mixture of fondness and something deeper, something more tender. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as if to reassure himself that you were really there. “And here I was, thinking I’d have to wait another day to see you,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “This is a very welcome surprise.”

You could feel the heat of his hand through the fabric of your sleeve, the simple touch sending a shiver of warmth through you. There was something electric in the air between you, a connection that neither time nor distance could diminish. The urge to close the gap between you, to wrap your arms around him and pull him into a kiss, was almost overwhelming, but you resisted, knowing that the crew was watching.

Instead, you let your hand rest on his, your fingers brushing against his as you shared a private moment in the midst of the bustling set. “I couldn’t stay away any longer,” you confessed softly, your eyes locked on his. “I’ve been thinking about you constantly, Alan. Every interview, every premiere… all I wanted was to be with you.”

Alan’s expression softened even further, his eyes shining with something that made your heart skip a beat. “And I’ve been thinking about you,” he replied, his voice just as soft. “You’ve been the best part of my day, even when we’re miles apart.”

The sincerity in his words, the quiet intensity in his gaze, made it clear that he felt the same way you did—that the weeks apart had been just as hard on him as they had been on you. It was a comfort, a reassurance that your feelings were mutual, that the bond you shared was strong enough to withstand the challenges of your careers.

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you standing there, connected by something deeper than words. It was as if the distance between you had never existed, as if the weeks apart had only made your connection stronger. And in that moment, you knew that whatever the future held, as long as you had each other, you could face it together.

Alan seemed to sense the same thing, his hand tightening slightly on yours as if to anchor you both in the moment. “Come,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “Let’s find somewhere a bit more private. I’d like to catch up properly.”

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation as he led you away from the busy set, away from prying eyes and the chaos of the production. As you walked side by side, your fingers still intertwined, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him, at the man who had become so much more than just a friend, so much more than just a lover. He was your partner, your confidant, the person you trusted above all others.

And as you found a quiet corner of the set, away from the noise and the cameras, you knew that this was where you belonged—by his side, in the moments both big and small, in the spaces where you could simply be together, without the world watching.

Alan turned to you, his expression soft and filled with a warmth that made your heart swell. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you more than I can say.”

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over the stubble that lined his jaw. “I’ve missed you too, Alan,” you whispered, your voice filled with all the love you felt for him. “More than you know.”

You let out a small, frustrated sigh and muttered under your breath, "Damn, I wish I could kiss you right now."

Alan’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he caught your words, and a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned in slightly, his voice a low, teasing murmur. “And why don’t you, then?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow in that way only he could—both challenging and playful at the same time.

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, the temptation to close the gap between you almost overwhelming. But you quickly glanced around the set, taking in the bustling crew and the open space. With a small, regretful shake of your head, you started to look for a place to sit down. “We can’t do that here, Alan,” you whispered back, your tone filled with both longing and practicality. “Not in such a public place.”

Alan didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back against the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest in that relaxed, confident way he had, as if he was entirely at ease with the world. His hazel eyes remained fixed on you, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched you find a spot to sit.

You sighed tiredly as you finally settled into a chair, the weight of your travels and the emotional rollercoaster of the past few weeks catching up with you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were arriving early?” Alan asked, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and affection as he gently changed the subject.

You shrugged slightly, leaning back in your chair as you looked up at him. “Honestly? I wasn’t even sure I’d make it here today,” you admitted, your tone light despite the exhaustion in your eyes. “I took the first flight I could find from New York to London, thinking I’d just go straight to bed and sleep the whole day before meeting you tomorrow. But as soon as I lay down, I just couldn’t shake the urge to see you… even if only for a moment.”

Alan’s expression softened at your words, his eyes filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter. He pushed off the wall and walked over to you, his tall frame casting a shadow over you as he leaned down slightly, his face close to yours. “So you came all the way here just to take a peek at me?” he murmured, his voice rich with affection and a hint of that mischievous charm you loved so much.

You smiled up at him, feeling the tension in your body slowly melt away in his presence. “Yes,” you whispered back, your voice filled with sincerity. “I couldn’t stay away, Alan. I just… I needed to see you, even if it was just for a few minutes.”

Alan’s smile widened, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch soft and comforting. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” he said quietly, his voice low and intimate. “And now that you’re here, I’m not letting you go so easily.”

You chuckled softly, the sound light and relieved as you gazed up at him. “I wouldn’t want it any other way,” you replied, your eyes locked on his. “But I’m afraid I’m not much fun right now… I’m completely exhausted.”

Alan's expression softened into one of sympathy, his eyes filled with understanding as he gazed down at you. “You look like you could use a good rest,” he began, his voice gentle. But before he could say anything more, a voice interrupted the private moment.

“Well, well, what do we have here? Two lovebirds trying to sneak a moment alone?”

You both turned to see Helen McCrory approaching, a playful grin on her face. She looked stunning, as always, her presence commanding attention even in the simple, understated costume she wore for her role in A Little Chaos. Alan straightened up immediately, his posture shifting from relaxed to slightly more formal as he greeted her.

“Helen,” Alan said warmly, his baritone voice carrying a note of affection. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

Helen's grin widened as she came to stand beside you, her gaze flicking between the two of you with a knowing glint. “I should have known I’d find you two together,” she teased, her tone light. “Trying to keep your little romance a secret on set, are we?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her words, the sound light and carefree as you looked up at her. “You caught us,” you admitted with a playful shrug. “But in our defense, we haven’t seen each other in weeks, so we’re allowed a bit of sneaky time.”

Helen’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she reached out to gently squeeze your shoulder. “Of course you are,” she agreed, her tone warm. “But don’t think you can hide from me—I always know when something’s up.”

You grinned, leaning back in your chair as you let out a mock sigh. “Well, I suppose we should be careful then. Can’t let Narcissa Malfoy catch us in the act. Or worse, let her participate in this little get-together.”

Helen raised an eyebrow, her smile turning into a smirk as she caught onto the joke. “Ah, yes, because that would be quite the scandal, wouldn’t it? Severus Snape and Narcissa Malfoy having a little rendezvous on set.”

Alan chuckled softly, his gaze flicking between you and Helen as he played along. “Indeed. I’m sure Lucius would have something to say about that,” he remarked, his tone dry but laced with humor. “But I doubt even he could stop Narcissa if she had her mind set on something.”

Helen laughed, the sound rich and melodious. “Oh, you’re absolutely right, Alan. Narcissa always gets what she wants.” She then turned her attention back to you, her expression softening as she added, “Though I must say, it’s lovely to see you here. We’ve all missed having you around.”

You smiled, touched by her words. “I’ve missed you all too,” you admitted. “And I couldn’t resist the chance to see Alan again. But honestly, I’m not sure how you two manage to keep going with such hectic schedules. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

Helen’s eyes twinkled with a mix of sympathy and teasing as she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, if you had accepted that role in Harry Potter, you’d be used to this kind of chaos by now. We could have been three wizards on set instead of just two.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Don’t remind me, Helen. I still think about what might have been. But then again, who could ever live up to Narcissa Malfoy? You were perfect for that role.”

Helen grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. “Flattery will get you everywhere, darling. But you would have made a brilliant addition to the cast, and you know it.”

Alan, who had been quietly enjoying the exchange, chimed in with a wry smile. “I must say, I would have enjoyed seeing you wield a wand on screen. Perhaps we could have had a duel—Severus Snape versus… whoever you might have played.”

You laughed, the thought of being in a magical duel with Alan Rickman and Helen McCrory bringing a sparkle to your eyes. “Oh, I would have given you both a run for your money,” you teased, pretending to twirl an imaginary wand in your hand. “But I suppose we’ll never know.”

Helen playfully pouted, crossing her arms over her chest as she gave you an exaggerated look of disappointment. “Such a missed opportunity,” she said, her tone dripping with mock seriousness. “We could have been the most formidable trio in the wizarding world.”

You couldn’t help but grin, loving the playful camaraderie between the three of you. “Well, maybe we can still make it happen someday. I’m sure there’s room for a new character in the Harry Potter universe.”

Alan chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he considered the idea. “Now that would be something to see. But in the meantime, I suppose we’ll have to settle for being mere mortals.”

Helen rolled her eyes playfully at his words, her grin widening as she reached out to give him a light nudge. “Oh, don’t be so modest, Alan. You may be playing a king right now, but we all know you’re still the dark and brooding wizard at heart.”

Alan shared a warm smile with Helen, the camaraderie between them evident in the easy way they exchanged glances. The conversation had lightened the mood, and for a brief moment, the weight of his earlier insecurities seemed to lift. But as the laughter faded, he caught sight of you glancing at your wristwatch, a small frown creasing your brow as you noted the time.

"I should probably get going," you said, your voice tinged with reluctance. "I still need that well-deserved rest before we meet up tomorrow, Alan."

The regret in your tone was clear, and Alan felt a pang of disappointment that the moment had to end so soon. But he nodded in understanding, knowing that you needed to recharge after your whirlwind travels.

Helen looked between the two of you, her sharp eyes catching the subtle exchange of emotions that passed between you. She watched as you stepped forward to share a hug with her, your embrace warm and affectionate, a testament to the friendship you had built over the years. "Take care, love," Helen said softly, giving you a gentle squeeze before pulling back. "We’ll see you soon."

You smiled, your eyes flicking over to Alan, who stood nearby, his tall frame still as he watched the interaction. With a playful smile, you reached out to pat his arm in a friendly way, your touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "Get some rest yourself, Alan," you teased lightly. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

Alan returned your smile, though his eyes held a warmth that went beyond simple friendship. "I’ll try," he replied, his voice carrying that familiar baritone rumble that always sent a shiver down your spine. "But only if you promise to do the same."

You chuckled softly, nodding as you turned to leave, your footsteps echoing slightly in the quiet of the set. Alan’s gaze followed you as you walked away, his eyes lingering on your retreating figure with a mix of affection and something deeper—something that Helen didn’t miss.

As soon as you were out of sight, Helen turned her attention back to Alan, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You’re not fooling anyone, you know," she remarked casually, her tone light but laced with meaning.

Alan, ever the actor, raised an eyebrow in mock confusion, his expression carefully neutral. "Whatever do you mean, Helen?" he asked, his voice smooth and composed as he feigned ignorance. "I’m simply seeing off a friend."

Helen’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, come now, Alan. You and I both know there’s more to it than that. You’ve been practically attached at the hip with her since the day you met. Don’t tell me you’re still going to pretend there’s nothing going on between you two."

Alan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly as if to dismiss the notion. "We’re good friends, Helen," he insisted, his tone light and casual. "Colleagues, even. Nothing more."

Helen didn’t buy it for a second. She had been around long enough to recognize the signs of a budding romance, and the way you and Alan interacted was a dead giveaway. The subtle touches, the lingering glances, the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching—it all pointed to something more than just friendship.

"Is that so?" she asked, her voice filled with playful skepticism. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks an awful lot like the two of you are hiding something. And I’m not just talking about a close friendship."

Alan met her gaze, his hazel eyes steady and composed, but there was a flicker of something in them—something that betrayed the truth he was trying so hard to keep hidden. "Believe what you like, Helen," he said with a small, enigmatic smile. "But I assure you, there’s nothing to hide."

Helen tilted her head slightly, studying him with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "You’re a terrible liar, Alan," she teased gently, though there was no malice in her words. "But I suppose I’ll let you keep your secrets—for now."

Alan chuckled again, his laughter rich and deep, though there was a hint of tension beneath it. "I appreciate that," he replied smoothly, his tone still light. "It’s good to know you’re on my side."

Helen’s smile softened, and she reached out to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Always, darling," she said warmly. "Just remember, you don’t have to hide everything. Some secrets are meant to be shared."

Alan nodded, though he made no further comment, his thoughts already drifting back to you and the connection you shared. Helen might have been convinced that there was more to your relationship than met the eye, but for now, he was content to let the world believe whatever they liked.

As Helen turned to leave, Alan watched her go, a small smile playing on his lips. He knew that she wasn’t fooled by his denial, but he also knew that she would keep his secret for as long as he needed her to. After all, some things were worth protecting, even if it meant keeping them hidden for a little while longer.

And as he stood there in the quiet of the set, Alan allowed himself a moment to savor the thought of you—the woman who had become so much more than just a friend, so much more than just a colleague. The woman who had captured his heart in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

For now, he was content to keep that truth close, to cherish the private moments you shared, knowing that one day, when the time was right, the world would know just how much you meant to him.

But until then, he would continue to play the part of the enigmatic, charming actor, keeping his secrets close and his feelings even closer, all the while knowing that you were the one person who truly understood the man behind the mask.

The next day, you and Alan finally managed to carve out some time together, albeit later in the afternoon than you’d originally planned. Both of you had agreed that after the whirlwind of your respective schedules, a lazy day at your house was exactly what you needed. No interviews, no scripts—just the two of you, unwinding in the comfort of your shared space.

The moment Alan arrived at your door, you couldn’t help but greet him with a warm, lingering kiss, your hands gently cupping his face as you reveled in the familiarity of his touch. He responded in kind, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close, the tension of the past few weeks melting away as you both simply enjoyed the moment.

“It’s good to finally have you all to myself,” Alan murmured against your lips, his deep baritone voice sending a shiver down your spine. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his hazel gaze filled with a mix of affection and something deeper. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love for the man who had become such an integral part of your life. “I’ve missed you too,” you whispered back, your voice soft and sincere. “And now that we finally have some time together, I intend to make the most of it.”

Alan’s lips quirked into a playful smile, and he leaned in to steal another quick kiss before pulling you into a warm embrace. “I like the sound of that,” he replied, his tone light and teasing. “So, what’s on the agenda for today, love? A bit of reading, perhaps? Or maybe we could finally indulge in those fanfics you mentioned.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers idly tracing the curve of his spine as you rested your head against his chest. “You’ve been thinking about those, haven’t you?” you teased, your voice filled with amusement. “I never pegged you as the fanfiction type, Alan.”

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest and making you smile. “Well, you did pique my curiosity,” he admitted, his tone both playful and genuine. “And I must say, the idea of seeing how I—well, Snape—am portrayed in these stories is rather intriguing. Plus, I’m curious to see how… detailed they get.”

You raised an eyebrow at his words, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Detailed, huh? You sure you’re ready for that? Some of those fanfics don’t hold back, you know. They might give you ideas.”

Alan’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, seductive murmur. “Oh, I’m counting on it, my dear,” he replied, his tone sending a thrill of anticipation through you. “After all, what’s the point of reading them if we don’t have a bit of fun recreating the scenes?”

You laughed, the sound filled with both amusement and excitement at the prospect. “Well then,” you said, stepping back slightly and taking his hand in yours. “Let’s get comfortable first, and then we can see just how well you can bring those fanfics to life.”

Alan’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, a playful glint in his eyes as he followed you to the living room. Once there, you both settled onto the couch, the atmosphere relaxed and intimate as you curled up against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

You reached for your phone, pulling up the fanfiction website and scrolling through the list of stories until you found one that seemed particularly promising. “Alright,” you began, your voice light as you looked up at him with a teasing smile. “Shall we start with a classic Snape romance, or would you prefer something a bit… steamier?”

Alan raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile. “Why not start with the romance?” he suggested, his tone filled with a subtle, teasing challenge. “I’m curious to see how they capture the… softer side of Severus Snape.”

You chuckled, nodding in agreement as you clicked on a story that had high ratings and plenty of comments praising the author’s portrayal of Snape. As you began to read, the room filled with your voice, each word weaving a tale of unrequited love, intense emotions, and the eventual confession between Snape and the story’s protagonist—a young witch who had somehow managed to break through his formidable exterior.

As you read aloud from the fanfic, you both became more and more engrossed in the story, the detailed descriptions of Snape's inner turmoil and the humorous moments woven into the narrative drawing you in. The author had managed to capture Snape’s dry wit perfectly, and you found yourself laughing at some of the quips that sounded like something Alan himself might say.

Then, you reached a particularly funny scene. In it, Snape, ever the sarcastic and somewhat grumpy Potions Master, was trying to teach a rather inept student the finer points of potion-making. The student, who was clearly out of their depth, had somehow managed to turn their cauldron into a bubbling mess of what the fanfic described as "a rainbow-colored disaster."

Snape, unimpressed and thoroughly exasperated, was written to have dramatically thrown his black robes over his shoulder like a cape, stalking around the student and lecturing them in a tone that was described as both condescending and theatrical. The author had even added a line about how Snape’s hooked nose twitched with irritation as he delivered one of his signature biting remarks: "If incompetence were a potion, you would have brewed a perfect batch."

You couldn’t help but laugh as you read the scene aloud, the image of a melodramatic Snape stalking around the hapless student almost too much to handle. "Oh, Alan," you said, still giggling, "I can just imagine you doing something like this! It’s so over-the-top and theatrical."

Alan chuckled along with you, but as the laughter subsided, you noticed a glint of mischief in his hazel eyes. Without saying a word, he suddenly stood up from the couch, a sly smile playing on his lips. You watched, intrigued and amused, as he reached for the soft sheet you had grabbed earlier to cover his legs, draping it over his shoulders like a makeshift cape.

You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched his impromptu costume change. "And what exactly are you doing, Mr. Rickman?" you asked, your voice filled with playful curiosity.

Alan gave you a mock-serious look, his lips curving into a smirk as he held the sheet dramatically with one hand, letting it flow behind him like Snape’s billowing robes. "I am now Severus Snape," he declared in a perfect imitation of the character’s deep, measured voice. "And you, my dear, are the incompetent student who has dared to ruin a perfectly good potion."

You burst out laughing, the sight of Alan in his makeshift Snape costume, coupled with his spot-on impression, making it impossible to keep a straight face. "Oh, really?" you said, playing along with a grin. "And what exactly do you intend to do about it, Professor Snape?"

Alan’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he took a step back, lifting the sheet-cape with a flourish and adopting a more stern, imposing posture. "I shall do what any good Potions Master would do," he intoned, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "I shall recreate the scene, and you, my dear, shall read the lines while I bring this catastrophe to life."

You couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity of the situation, the playful banter between the two of you filling the room with lighthearted energy. "Alright, Professor Snape," you replied, your tone teasing as you picked up the phone again, scrolling back to the start of the scene. "But I warn you, this student is particularly inept. You’ll have your work cut out for you."

Alan gave you a mock look of exasperation, his eyes narrowing as he slipped fully into character. "Do you take me for a fool?" he retorted in that smooth, commanding baritone. "No student is beyond the reach of my… expertise."

With that, you began to read the scene aloud, doing your best to maintain a serious tone even as the ridiculousness of the situation threatened to make you burst out laughing again. Alan, for his part, played the role of Snape with a level of dedication that was both impressive and hilarious. He stalked around the room, his makeshift cape flowing behind him as he delivered the lines with a mixture of stern authority and theatrical flair.

When you reached the line about the rainbow-colored potion disaster, Alan paused mid-stride, turning on his heel to face you with a dramatic flourish of the sheet-cape. "A rainbow-colored disaster!" he repeated, his voice filled with incredulous disdain. "If incompetence were a potion, you, Miss [Your Last Name], would have brewed a perfect batch!"

You couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer, the sight of Alan fully embracing the role of Snape—complete with exaggerated gestures and that iconic, sardonic tone—was just too much. "Oh, come on, Professor!" you protested, trying to keep a straight face. "It’s not that bad!"

Alan, staying in character, arched an eyebrow in that perfect Snape-like way, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer, looming over you with the full force of his theatrical presence. "Not that bad?" he echoed, his voice low and menacing in the most exaggerated way possible. "Miss [Your Last Name], I have seen first-years brew better potions in their sleep! This—" he gestured dramatically at the imaginary cauldron, "—is an abomination, an affront to the very art of potion-making!"

You were practically in tears from laughing, the combination of Alan’s over-the-top performance and the sheer silliness of the scene making it impossible to maintain any semblance of composure. "Alright, alright, you win!" you gasped, holding up your hands in surrender. "I admit it! I’m a terrible student!"

Alan’s stern expression softened into a triumphant grin, the playful glint in his eyes returning as he dropped the sheet-cape and stepped back, his arms crossing over his chest in that familiar, confident stance. "Indeed you are," he said, his voice slipping back into its natural cadence. "But perhaps with the right… guidance, you might improve."

You grinned, wiping away the tears of laughter from your eyes as you looked up at him. "Guidance, huh? And what kind of guidance would you suggest, Professor?"

Alan leaned down slightly, his face close to yours as he dropped his voice to a low, teasing whisper. "Oh, I can think of a few ways to improve your… performance," he murmured, the playful tone in his voice making your heart race. "But I’ll let you decide when you’re ready for the next lesson."

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the playful banter between you both filling the room with warmth and affection. "I’ll keep that in mind, Professor," you replied with a wink, your voice filled with both amusement and genuine affection. "But for now, I think I’d like to stick to the fun kind of lessons—like this."

Alan smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at you with a mix of affection and something deeper. "As you wish, Miss [Your Last Name]," he said, his voice warm and sincere. "But remember, the offer stands. Anytime you need a little… guidance, I’ll be here."

And with that, the two of you settled back onto the couch, the lighthearted moment bringing you even closer together. The rest of the afternoon was spent in a comfortable, playful companionship, the laughter and joy of the day a reminder of just how much you cherished these moments with Alan—the man who had become so much more than just a friend, so much more than just a lover.

He was your partner, your confidant, your source of endless amusement and affection. And as the day drew to a close, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for the bond you shared—a bond that, despite the challenges and the distance, only seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

[vampireimiko]

Could I request neuvillette x male reader?

M!reader personality: flirty, mischievous, hard to fluster, can be extremely rude, can be perverted

M!reader region: fontaine

M!reader species: kitsune

M!reader occupation: model

M!reader looks: Slim, curvy, shoulder length hair, shorter than average, he also wears heals most of the time

Extra

Likes: Modeling, skincare, makeup, getting his nails/hair done

Dislikes: getting his makeup ruined, getting his hair ruined, dirty things

M!reader extra: extremely popular, extremely attractive, cares alot about his looks, wears some makeup(eyeliner, mascara and lipstick) can be a bit of a narcissist sometimes

Oh and could he be more submissive in the relationship (not sexually)

Neuvillette x Male! Reader Headcanons

warnings, none !!

note, GAHHH THIS HAS BEEN DONE FOR A FEW DAYS NOW 🤕 I've just been sick and busy 😭🙏🏾 also i need more genshin mutuals so hmu 🤓☝🏾

જ⁀➴ How you and Neuvillette got together will always be a mystery to the citizens of Fontaine. You two were the complete opposite of one another—where you were flashy and always embraced extravagance, Neuvillette was mostly quiet, speaking only when necessary, and approaching things with simplicity.

જ⁀➴ But against all odds, you and Neuvillette found a way to be together. He became the steady and supportive boyfriend who held the fort in Fontaine, while you embodied the charismatic persona that seemed to charm its way into everything you desired, often accompanied by an effortless air of confidence.

જ⁀➴ Neuvillette's days were consumed by the responsibilities of his position as Chief Justice. On the other hand, you reveled in the luxuries that life in Fontaine provided, a lifestyle that resonated with your natural inclination for the extravagant. You were known not just for your striking looks and unique aura but also for your audacious approach to life.

જ⁀➴ Speaking of couple activities, you found immense joy in playing tricks on Neuvillette, fully embracing your Kitsune nature. From innocently hidden notes to elaborate pranks, you delighted in bringing moments of surprise and laughter into his orderly world. The faintest smile would dance at the corners of Neuvillette's lips, a testament to your success in tugging him out of his formal shell, if only momentarily.

જ⁀➴ Your mischievousness, paired with your innate flirty and perceptive nature, often led to playful banter and witty exchanges between you two. Neuvillette, who rarely allowed himself to be easily flustered, found himself occasionally caught off guard by your audacious comments and innuendos. It was a dance of wit and charm, a constant push and pull that brought a dynamic energy to your relationship.

જ⁀➴ As a model, you knew the value of appearances and the art of presenting oneself flawlessly. It was a commonality that further bonded you and Neuvillette. He might have held a position of authority, but your shared appreciation for grooming and style connected you on a different level. There were instances when you both would spend leisurely evenings together, experimenting with skincare routines or discussing the latest trends in fashion.

જ⁀➴ Despite your sometimes provocative nature, you respected Neuvillette's reserved demeanor. It was in those quiet moments that you found yourself drawn to his depth, his thoughtful perspectives on matters that transcended the superficial. Neuvillette's presence allowed you to explore your own complexity, inspiring you to embrace more facets of your personality beyond the outward flamboyance.

જ⁀➴ So with that being said, you and Neuvillette were definitely opposites of each other through and through. But you loved and cared for one another dearly, despite the contrast of your personalities.

𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄... 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬💀 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐢𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥) 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[0moony]

charlie work (charlie kelly x gn reader oneshot) (smut!)

🌙~*~💫~*~✨~*~💫~*~🌙

tags: established relationship, gender neutral reader, sub charlie, sweet and fluffy vibes, praise!! so much praise, so much begging, edging, handjob & oral sex m receiving, creampie

it’s been a bit but i’m back with another little story. i love this concept so much i hope i did it justice!! i just wanna take care of him <333

set after the charlie work episode!! (s10e4)

you’re hanging out in your apartment when you hear your door open and close a little more harshly than usual. you can hear charlie muttering under his breath before you come out to see him. he doesn’t even acknowledge you at first, lost in his own thoughts as he sets his backpack down with a thud.

“are you okay?” you ask instantly. finally he looks up, his eyes weary before he sighs and brings up a hand to rub his forehead.

“had the health inspection at paddy’s today..” he explains, his tone hollow. he doesn’t really move from where he stands in the entryway, so you approach. you wrap your arms around him loosely and he inches closer to you.

“did it go wrong?” you ask, trying to use his energy to fill in the blanks.

he scoffs slightly and shakes his head. “no, well.. it went great, actually.” his lips curl inwards, scowling, and his hands ball into fists. “all thanks to me.. not that anyone cares..” he huffs, half to himself again. but he didn’t really seem angry, exactly. more defeated.

you frown and find yourself gripping him a little tighter, instinctively trying to offer your support. “what happened?”

he then goes into the details of his day. his thorough plan to pass the inspection nearly fell into shambles the second he got into paddy’s because of some elaborate airline miles scheme the gang was running, involving loads of live chickens in the bar, a truckload of steaks, and an industrial-sized sealer. somehow, charlie finagled it all successfully to work in his favor so that they could both pass the inspection and complete the scheme at the same time. but in the end, nobody noticed or appreciated his incredible efforts.

when he finishes his long account, you hug him. “i’m so sorry, love. you worked so hard.”

“yeah.. just wish that’d be appreciated once in a while.” he mumbles.

you nod and lift your head to look at him, one of your hands intertwining with his. “i appreciate you. tons.” you know it doesn’t completely make up for his bad day, or really the constant unrecognition he gets at paddy’s, always being stuck with the hardest jobs. but you want him to hear it.

he meets your gaze and squeezes your hand. “i know. thank you.” he gives a little smile, the most he can manage right now.

“how can i help you feel better?”

“(y/n), you don’t have to-“ he starts, but before he can finish you put your fingers lightly to his lips to stop him. his eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t protest further. he was probably going to say something sweet like ‘just being with you is enough.’ and you love that, but that doesn’t satisfy you. you want to take care of him.

“are you hungry?” you ask. he just nods.

and so you go start something in the kitchen, a hot meal that you make sure to cook your love into.

charlie follows closely behind, and you keep chatting while he watches you cook. once you’re done and you’re plating your creation, he comes up to hug you from behind. he nuzzles into your hair and closes his eyes, breathing in your scent blending with the delicious aroma of freshly made food. his heart and his stomach sing in unison.

“thank you,” he hums. “you’re so good to me.”

you both decide to get in bed, putting on a tv show to laugh along to while you eat. by the last bite you can already see his spirits lifting a little. after setting aside the plates you snuggle up to him and your hands slide up to his shoulders, rubbing lightly. he melts a little at the contact and an idea pops into your head.

“how about.. a massage?” you offer. he looks at you and his lips curl downwards in thought for a moment. he’s not always eager to accept such kind favors from you, but seeing the affection in your eyes and thinking about how lovely your touch would feel, he gives in.

“umm.. yeah, sure. that sounds nice.”

“mhm. c’mon, lay down.” you grin and wait for him to roll over on his stomach and spread out into a comfortable position, and then you prop yourself up on your knees beside him.

you start massaging him, gently but firmly working every part of your hands into his muscles in a fluid rhythm. the second you touch him he responds instantly, sinking further into the bed and letting out a deep rumble of contentment. taking your time with every square inch of his body you come in contact with, you form a path from his neck to his lower back, loosening up any knot you find and rubbing out every last bit of tension. many minutes dedicated to him go by, and along the way at some point you’ve hiked his shirt up to get better access and you’ve shifted to straddling his hips.

while your knuckles and thumbs knead at either side of his spine, you lean in to whisper to him. “feeling good?” you ask, and the warmth of your breath near his ear makes him shiver slightly.

“really good, (y/n). you’re like an angel..” he breathes out, pure bliss lacing his words.

satisfied with your work you start to back off, but your hands linger on his skin. you’re full of contentment and love, happy to be able to pamper him like this. but another part of you, a steadily growing part of you, is also getting turned on.

charlie is practically putty in your hands. knowing that it’s because of you, that you’re able to take the weight off of him and relieve his stress, it does something to you. you want to do more. you want to make him feel even better.

you let your nails lightly graze his sides, feeling goosebumps form in their wake. your voice lowers to a soft, sultry purr. “you wanna do something fun now?”

you don’t know the way his stomach flips at the suddenly suggestive way you speak, something deep inside of him immediately standing to attention. “..fun?” he questions, and now there’s a hint of excitement in his voice. he shifts to meet your gaze.

you nod, smiling down at him. there’s a sparkle in your eyes that instantly makes him weak. he turns over onto his back.

but instead of explaining yourself right away, you pull him into a deep kiss. you cup his face in your hands as your mouths move together in a heated embrace in which you take the lead, kissing him in a way that has his breath hitching against your lips. it’s slow and sensual, but filled with just the right amount of hunger to make your intentions clear.

“i have an idea.” you murmur. you press your hips against his just a little and he groans, his hands flying up to grab you and press you down a little more. when you break the kiss his face is flushed and his pupils are dilated.

“what is it?” he’s eager now and it shows, his big eyes looking up at you so tenderly as if he was willing to give up the world in that moment just for some more of your wonderful attention.

you roll your hips against his once more and he lets out a little whimper, gripping you tighter. finally, wearing a small smirk, you drop the suspense. “i want to find out how long you can last.”

charlie looks almost bewildered at this, but there’s a notable spark in his eyes that shows he isn’t uninterested. he just wasn’t expecting such a suggestion. “y-you want..?”

“i want,” you repeat your words slowly, calmly. “to see how long you can last.”

just the thought of him at your mercy, moaning, shaking, begging for relief while you push his limits makes it very hard to patiently wait for his response. “do you want to try it?”

“i, um..” he clears his throat, his mouth suddenly dry as he finds himself at a loss for words. you’re stirring up his brain and getting him more turned on than he thought possible, putting him on the spot. he’s flustered. his cock is already rock hard in his jeans, just the weight of you on top of him nearly enough to do him in.

you have to help him out somehow. one of your hands threads into the curls at the back of his head as you lean in to place kisses along his jawline and below his ear. “it’ll feel really good..” you coax sweetly, smiling against his skin. “i promise. i just wanna take care of you, love.”

he lets his head tilt almost immediately to give you better access, a needy little sound coming from behind his lips that’s like music to your ears. his hips arch into yours and his fingers dig into your sides, desperate for some kind of friction. “yeah, i wanna try it.” he finally confirms, breathless.

you chuckle softly, in love with how responsive he is. but you haven’t even begun yet.

“first things first,” you pull away slowly, meeting his eyes. you reach for his arms and guide them away from you, laying them back on the bed. “hands off.”

he immediately pouts, something innate within him craving the feel of your body underneath his palms. but he nods, willing himself to follow your lead.

“good. stay like that, okay? no touching for a little while.”

“okay,” charlie agrees, and the momentary flicker of disappointment in his eyes is overtaken by excitement when you start to help him out of his clothes. tossing his shirt somewhere on the floor, you move to unbutton his jeans next. you push them down along with his boxers, and he sucks in a breath at the feeling of the cool air hitting his most sensitive area.

his cock is thick and flushed with need, veins lining the shaft. a bit of precum dribbles from the tip and onto his soft stomach. he looks so divine and you start to think that this is going to be a test of your patience as much as it is his.

“ready?” you hum.

“yeah, please.” he replies eagerly, squirming a little beneath you. you can’t resist pressing him a little more.

“please what, my love?” you simper, willing him to ask properly for what he wants.

charlie’s cheeks turn red and his brows pinch together as he formulates a response. “please touch me, (y/n.) i need you, please..” he begs. his voice is gruff and his hands fist the sheets beneath him, driven wild with the anticipation.

“that’s perfect, baby. i will since you asked so nicely.” you spit crudely in your hand and gently wrap your fist around him, slowly stroking from base to tip. your saliva mixes with his precum with each measured pass, making him nice and slick.

“oh, fuck..” immediately, his head falls back and his legs tense beneath you. after the lead up to this moment he’s sensitive, hot in your hand, and swelling even more in response to your touch.

you increase your pace slightly, biting your lip as you focus on moving your wrist in a graceful motion and making your grip just right. you watch charlie’s stomach flex and his face contort as he tries to maintain control, his breath coming out in shallow pants. you’re about to ask how it feels but as if he’s reading your mind, he indulges you on his own.

“feels so good, (y/n.) mmf.. please, a little more?” he pleads, his hips arching desperately.

“alright,” you give in just a little, giving him longer, quicker strokes. “you’re not allowed to finish yet, though. okay?”

he moans, gritting his teeth and nodding.

“you promise to be good?”

“yes..” he nods again, his voice cracking. but you want more.

your hand stills and his half-lidded eyes fly open, giving you an almost hurt look. his hair is a mess, his lips are pouty, and his gaze is desperate. he twitches in your grasp, every ounce of his body begging for attention.

“tell me.”

his mouth opens instantly to speak, quickly stammering out a response through the haze of lust clouding his mind. “i’ll be good, i promise i’ll be good for you. i can hold off. please baby, please keep going.”

you give a pleased, cat-like grin and resume, and once you do he melts back into the bed and rumbles with a very grateful sigh of pleasure.

you feel hot just watching him like this, but you have to bury that feeling deep so that you can stay focused on him. but god, he looks mouthwatering. he sounds like an angel. you can’t help but grind yourself against his thigh every now and then in search of your own relief.

your grip tightens and you increase your pace. you listen as his breathing gets ragged, his sounds of pleasure gracing your ears more and more often along with the wet sounds of your fist pumping him. leaning in, you pepper kisses and nips around his hips.

“you’re so sexy like this. being so lovely for me.” you hum, your eyes never leaving him. he gives a shaky moan, swooning beautifully in response to your praise. you can tell he’s getting close, can tell that you should start to back off. but you want him to make the call. he said he’s going to be good, after all. “tell me when to stop, okay?”

“okay, okay, okay..” charlie breathes out, his eyebrows furrowing and his teeth digging into his lower lip with the struggle of holding back. the sight of you on top of him, so dedicated to pleasing him, is enough to send him flying into orbit. he watches the motion of your hand steadily going up and down his cock until he can’t take it anymore.

“baby, ‘m close,” he whines, his hips stuttering as the need to cum gets more frantic. “fuck, i’m close, i’m close-“

you stop and his head falls back into the pillows again, groaning heavily. he pulses in your grasp as he comes down from the high.

“good, very good.” you purr, kissing around his lower belly. your hand never leaves him.

“baby, please..” he pouts, his head rolling to peek down at you. his fingers are surely leaving dents in the sheets from how hard he’s gripping them.

“i know, i’ve got you. you’re doing so well, my love.” you continue to praise and soothe him, but you can’t help the little smirk that curls at your lips from how needy he is.

his cheeks turn a little rosy and he twitches in your hand. “i am?” he asks breathlessly.

“of course, baby. i’m impressed.” your lips trail closer and closer to his aching shaft as you speak, slowly grazing his happy trail, his pelvis, and the space where his hip meets his thigh with featherlight kisses.

“i’ll make you feel so good, i promise. just keep being patient.” his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, his gaze zeroed in on your lips brushing against his skin. “can you do that?” you ask.

charlie swallows hard. “y-yes, yes i can do that.”

as a reward your tongue meets his flesh, licking a heated stripe up his cock. he shudders. you start to move your hand again and he nearly cries.

“ohmygod...” his jaw drops in disbelief as you place big, wet, open-mouthed kisses at the base, letting your tongue curl around his girth while you stroke him the same time. you kiss upwards but back off before you reach the tip. just feeling your breath fan over the head of his cock makes him lose his mind.

“(y/n),” he writhes underneath you, so close again. “baby, please. please can i cum?”

you slow your pace and he whines. “uh-uh, charlie. not quite yet.”

his face scrunches up from the delicious torture, his head rolling side to side. your lips brush against his tip and he gasps.

“stay strong for me.” you murmur before you open your mouth to take him in. charlie practically jolts from the surprise.

“ah! mmf, ah fuck, wait-“ he can hardly form a sentence, his eyes rolling back as your lovely mouth envelops him. “so warm, mm.. i can’t- i can’t last like that. (y/n), please..” he’s whimpering constantly, the ardent struggle of denying his orgasm written all over him.

you ignore his pleas for now, greedily savoring his taste and weight and warmth on your tongue. taking as much as you can, you suckle and bob your head over and over again while he moans gratefully above you.

just a minute of this and he’s done for. “i can’t take it, ‘m gonna cum. you’re so good, it’s too good..“ but just as soon as he gets the words out you’re off of him entirely.

he’s nearly shaking at this point, his hands flying up to tug at his own hair for dear life as his cock slaps back against his stomach, whining brokenly. a complete mess. “(y/n), i feel crazy,” charlie rasps. “i’m so close. i need you so bad..”

“i know, i know..” he’s so distressed and you almost feel bad, but it’s just too delicious seeing him like this. addicted to your touch, as if you’re some kind of life line. you know it’ll all be worth it in the end.

you climb up his body, leaning in to kiss his cheeks, his nose, then finally his lips. charlie returns the kiss eagerly, grateful for the chance to be closer to you.

you pull back and he watches as you slip off your own clothes piece by piece. straddling him, you center yourself over his hips and his eyes go wide. his hands cling harshly to the bedspread again and you can tell he’s fighting off the urge to grab you.

“(y/n), i’m not gonna last a second if you..” he trails off, his voice barely above a whisper.

you smile. “sure you will. you can last a little longer, i know you can. you’re a good boy, yeah?”

he visibly perks up. you take him in your hand and line him up with your entrance and he hisses at the contact. “y-yes, oh yes.” he crumbles. “but fuck, i don’t know if i can. it’s too much..”

“you can.” you affirm softly, placing a hand on his chest as you start to lower yourself onto him. his eyes roll all the way back into his head and a string of curses falls from his lips.

“so hot, so tight, wet, perfect,” he gushes, floating high in the clouds as you sink down his cock. far, far away from the cares of the world.

you let out a moan of your own as he bottoms out inside of you, savoring the delicious feeling. “that’s right. you’re so good, charlie. you deserve this.” you murmur sweetly, beginning to rock your hips slowly.

“i’m good, i’m a good boy..” he repeats in a daze, huffing with your every thrust. his eyes glaze over with pure bliss, his mind going completely blank except for you. he looks up at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “i’m a good boy?”

your heart melts a little from how soft he looks. you could praise him every second for the rest of your life and it still wouldn’t feel like enough to properly convey how precious he is to you. “yeah, baby. doing so well for me. my good boy. my favorite.” you assure him, your fingers lightly brushing his hair out of his face before cupping his cheek. “i love you so much.”

he leans into your touch. “i love you.” he hums back. “(y/n), i’m so close..”

“just a little longer,” you promise. he turns you on so much that you’re not far behind. after just another minute or two, you finally give in.

“my love, would you like to cum?”

excitement paints his features instantly and he looks at you with big puppy-dog eyes. “yes, (y/n). please, i need it so bad. please let me cum in you.”

his admission makes your stomach flip and your control falters, clenching around him. “you want to cum inside?”

“yes, please.” he begs desperately. “want to fill you up so bad, so bad..”

you stop fucking him. you reach for his hands and guide them to your sides, and then you lean forward and brace your hands on his shoulders.

“go ahead, baby. fuck me ‘til you cum. you earned it, did so perfect.” you whisper in his ear, encouraging him with a roll of your hips that steals the air from his lungs.

he doesn’t hesitate. his fingers dig into your flesh instantly, gripping you tight. he ruts his hips upwards just once and moans loudly. “fucking.. oh, it’s too good,” he huffs, quickly finding his rhythm. “you’re so good, (y/n). i‘m gonna fill you up, need to fill you up. stuff you full, every drop..”

he loses all control. he fucks into you and pulls you up and down by your hips like a ragdoll while his grunts and sweet words fill your ears amidst his climb to ecstasy. you’re right there with him, singing with pleasure. it's not much longer before you both start to break down.

“yes, yes, yes..” charlie pants, getting louder and louder as the pressure builds just right. “i‘m gonna cum. gonna cum so deep inside you, baby. fuck!” after being wound up for so, so long, the coil inside of him finally snaps and he cries out, his whole world rocked by the force of his orgasm. his head swims and he jackrabbits into you like his life depends on it until every last drop of cum is spent.

feeling his warm release flood your insides you follow his lead and also fall apart. both of you rock through the bliss until you’re completely wiped, collapsing into each other.

once every ounce of pleasure has been wrung out, he wraps his arms around you lazily to pull you close. he nuzzles into your hair, letting out a little dazed giggle. the rough day he had was long, long gone. practically wiped from his mind and replaced with pure satisfaction.

“that was the best,” he sighs, tracing soft circles on your back. “you’re too good t’me..”

you hum in response, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “you deserve it.” you lift yourself up a little to look at him and you smile. “feel better?”

he smiles too. “tons.”

🌙~*~💫~*~✨~*~💫~*~🌙

[nilsavatar]

DAY 23 - BITING part 2

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!human

PART 1, PART 3

Genre/Warnings: fluff, ANGST, introspective, delicate themes (hibrid pregnacy). All characters are AGED-UP. This the sequel of the @layla2-49 request used to fullfil the promp day 23 of lunakinktober 2023

Summary: Following the unexpected pairing that occurred at the Tree of Souls, after connecting as only two Na'vi normally could, Celeste and Neteyam entertain a clandestine relationship. Several times they have discussed coming out, but the girl is too prey to her insecurities as a human to do so. It is Eywa who will decide for both of them with a disconcerting revelation: they have conceived a hybrid child.

Word Count: 4k

Masterlist - Request a fic

Celeste had been... different ever since Neteyam had brought her back to the human compound after collecting panopyra samples in the forest. Brighter, in a way. She visited Hometree more willingly and more often, interacting with the village women who now welcomed her with smiles and involved her in their activities whenever possible; she had discovered a particular talent for dyeing accessories the Omatikaya used to adorn their bodies with.

A soft half-smile spread across Spider’s lips as he watched her playing with a group of children on a nearby platform. They were about Tuk’s age, more or less, but already as tall as the girl, who wasn’t exactly towering herself compared to her twin brother. A genetic joke between heterozygotes. He would have lingered longer on seeing his sister finally out of the lab, out of her shell—he would have even laughed at the odd hairstyle the kids were braiding into her hair—but his gaze was drawn elsewhere. Specifically, to the Sully brothers, who were descending with long strides down the path carved into the massive tree trunk that served as a home for the entire clan, each carrying a yerik carcass over their shoulders. Another successful hunt, he thought with a twinge of envy.

How much he would have loved to prove his worth by helping sustain the People, but Spider was just a human. Not to mention Nash and Mary would have killed him if he even tried. And Celeste, especially Celeste!

Following the instructions of an elder hunter, the two young men carried their prey to a tent, where it would be skinned and butchered. When they reemerged, the brothers were playfully shoving each other and exchanging teasing remarks. Neteyam was already cleaning his arrows checking them for any damage. Amidst an “I did a cleaner kill” and a “My shot was more precise”, Spider joined the conversation with his typical warm greeting. “Back already?” “Missed us?” “Nah, I could’ve done without that skxawng face of yours.” The jab was meant as a joke, but Spider couldn’t quite hide the unease—and the faint irritation—from his tone. At least when it came to Lo’ak, they knew each other far too well. That irrational sense of protective older-brother energy was definitely misplaced.

“You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?” “Depends on what we’re talking about.” “Teyam’s been acting strange lately.” That phrase was music to his ears, the confirmation that it wasn’t all in his head. But he decided to let his friend elaborate before sharing his concerns. He wanted evidence, not just vague conjectures. “Like what?” “I don’t know, bro. He doesn’t scold me like he usually does. He’s less uptight, whether we’re hunting or training. He smiles more, but he seems distracted a lot of the time. It’s like…” “He’s in love,” Spider finished for him. “Yeah. But you know how private he is. No one can get him to say who the girl is.” “Any idea who it might be?” “Nothing solid. Mom thinks it could be Nirat. Like her mother, she’s an excellent singer, but I don’t think that’s the kind of thing that would sway him enough to choose her as a mate.” “Mm, I agree. He’s not the type to be won over so easily. Singing is a beautiful talent, but just because it’s been decided that the next generation of leaders will be a brother-sister duo doesn’t mean Teyam’s standards for finding a strong mate to support the clan would change.” “Yeah, it can’t be Nirat, even though she’d kill for it to be her.”

Spider’s eyes drifted back to the person in question, who wasn’t even trying to hide how intently he was watching the human girl. The expression on his face was that of someone who had just put all the pieces together. “You know who it is?” “Let’s just say I have an idea. But I need confirmation.” As if some higher power had decided to fulfill his words, the decisive proof appeared before their incredulous eyes.

Nirat, dressed to the nines, with a flower tucked into her loose hair—a clear sign of her availability for courtship—made her way through the hunters to reach the future olo’eyktan. The beads adorning her ankles and wrists jingled with every step as she swayed her hips and fluttered her thick black lashes. At another time, Spider would have enjoyed the show, complete with boisterous chuckles and suggestive elbow nudges to Lo’ak, not holding back his commentary on the assertiveness of certain Na’vi women. Instead, his attention instinctively shifted back to his sister, whose expression spoke volumes.

Her lips were pressed into a deep pout, her wide, furious eyes fixed in a murderous glare at the eldest Sully. Her chest rose and fell in quick, frantic breaths, the intensity of which fogged up her mask. And then, the moment of drama. Mumbling some excuse, she got up despite the children’s protests. With a stormy expression, she left the clearing and returned to her refuge of experiments and disinfectants. But even with her head bowed, she couldn’t hide from her brother the fact that she was about to burst into tears—or from Neteyam.

The warrior brushed off the would-be suitor and moved to run after her, but Spider stopped him just in time, a hand on his torso to hold him in place. “Let her cool off. Talking to her now won’t do any good.” Neteyam opened his mouth to argue, to defend himself, but he knew his friend was right. In her current state, the girl would only push him away and retreat further into herself, buried in her stupid sense of inferiority and not belonging—even though the Great Mother herself had shown her otherwise. Gritting his teeth, his ears pinned back against his head, he looked for a moment past the human in the direction where Spider’s sister had disappeared. Then, with a sigh that deepened his already gloomy expression, he met his glare again and nodded. But before he could turn on his heel and retreat into his own bubble of frustration, Spider stopped him again. “What are your intentions with my sister?” It was pointless to evade the question, and in any case, Neteyam wasn’t the type.

Once she returned to the cold walls of the compound, Celeste did what she did best: locked herself in the lab, where the only sources of light were the plexiglass tanks and the computer monitors. One, to be precise, was on at that moment: hers. She sat there as though hiding from something, or rather someone. Someone who knew exactly where to find her. Her nerves were on edge, her suspicious eyes darting at every faint sound her feeble human ears could pick up.

Her irritated gaze flitted from the tablet in her hand to the tall figure that had just stepped across the threshold, the faint screech of the sliding door announcing his presence. Before her, in the dim room, the panopyra tank cast pale violet lights onto the young scientist’s face. Inside, the curious zooplantae drifted gracefully and hypnotically. Its presence seemingly consuming all of Celeste Socorro’s time and energy.

The supporting roots had intertwined to form a stem now, firmly anchored to the tank’s lid. From its core, several ends branched out to hold up the wide, inverted dome. Small, symmetrical dots outlined its surface, converging at the center, from which luminous tentacles extended. They now reacted to the insistent probing of mechanical fingers. At the ends of these, ultra-thin needles penetrated various points of the lively tentacles, immediately recording the data collected in the computerized system that Celeste held in her hands. Her goal? Entirely ignoring him.

The Na'vi couldn’t bring himself to break the silence immediately. He stood still, observing the scene for several long moments, trying to figure out how to approach her without making things worse. The way she moved—mechanical, precise, almost frantic—told him more than any words could. She was shaken. Hurt. She turned her back to him when Neteyam didn’t take the silent cue to leave. “I’m busy.” She was still mad. Fair enough. The warrior armed himself with his best smile, hoping to ease the tension. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said, setting the tray he had been carrying onto the table. “You’ve been in here for hours.”

Celeste felt a warm blush flood her cheeks. She bit the inside of her cheek until that familiar metallic taste of blood spread on her tongue. She wanted to set down the data pad, hug him, thank him for the thoughtful gesture, and tell him how sweet he was, but she was too angry to give in. If anything, seeing him only irritated her more. She could still picture Nirat wrapping herself around him like a jellyfish. Like the panopyra she was studying. So she asked, caustically, if he was stalking her, turning just in time to catch the hurt and disappointed look on his face.

“Yawne,” he said, all his regret poured into that single affectionate word, and guilt hit her like a punch to the gut. She knew Neteyam—his sense of loyalty, his serious and honorable nature. He wasn’t a playboy, nor someone who toyed with women for amusement. It wasn’t fitting for a leader, and more importantly, it wasn’t in his character. But she let her insecurities take over. Deep down, Celeste knew no one would approve of their relationship. It didn’t matter that the current olo’eyktan was human: Jake had an avatar; physically, he had more in common with a Na’vi than humans. And he was Toruk Makto. She had nothing to offer the clan… or Neteyam. She couldn’t become a member of the Omatikaya, and despite the tsahìk question being resolved by Kiri, young Socorro couldn’t promise him anything, least of all a family. What had been happening for months at the Tree of Souls—those strange tubular growths the roots formed at the base of her neck when they made love—meant nothing.

“Share your thoughts with me, Cel. Please.” She pressed her lips together, her shoulders rigid. “You should court Nirat,” she said curtly, trying to keep her composure. It felt like a stab to the heart. “… What?” “She’ll make an excellent mate. She’s beautiful, well-liked, and has a lovely voice that lifts spirits.” Well-liked? He wanted to ask sarcastically—Nirat was a snake. “We should tell the truth about us,” he answered instead, with that infuriatingly calm tone he knew drove her mad, though it masked a deep inner turmoil: the fear of what she might say next, words that could break his heart. “Everyone will know, and Nirat will get over it. I’m taken.” His response made the girl falter, her breathing slowed almost imperceptibly, but the fire in her eyes didn’t entirely die. “You just don’t get it, do you? I’m human, Teyam. I’ll always be out of place. Always… less. No matter what I do, I’ll never be like you. Never enough to truly belong in this world.” Neteyam took a step forward, slowly, cautiously. “You don’t need to be like us, Cel. You need to be yourself—that’s what makes you special. That’s what makes me see you, even when I look at everything else.”

Her eyes widened, startled by those loving words, which seemed to slip out before the young Na’vi could stop them. For a moment, she was speechless, her heart pounding in her chest, and he stepped closer, now only a breath away. He looked her directly in the eyes, unwavering. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding foolish,” he murmured. “I see you, Celeste. I have for a long time. When I whisper what I feel to you at the Tree of Souls, those aren’t just words said in the heat of the moment. I felt your spirit bond with mine. You’re a part of me. And when you hurt, I hurt too.”

She met his gaze, her expression pained. “But at what cost? You’re destined to lead your people. How can you do that with someone like me by your side? Even if the clan has learned to tolerate me, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m human.” The prince shook his head, his tone softening with a faint smile. “I’m not Eywa, tìyawn. I don’t know all her plans. But I know one thing. She wouldn’t have united us if our love was wrong.” Celeste swallowed, the words caught in her throat. She felt vulnerable, exposed, as though Neteyam had just torn down all the walls she had built around herself. “I… I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “You don’t have to say anything,” he replied with a small smile. “Just don’t run away from me anymore. Please.”

A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the faint hum of the machinery. Celeste lowered her gaze, biting her lip. Then, with hesitation that spoke of years of insecurity, she gave a small nod. “We’ll explain to them that Eywa chose you for me. We are mated before the Great Mother.” “Sure, we’ll tell them how that plant intoxicated us, and while we were… you know… the roots of the Tree of Voices somehow created a temporary kuru so we could connect. Nothing weird about that!” “Yawne,” he whispered, kneeling to press his forehead against hers, a gesture that felt more comforting than anything else. “Don’t underestimate our families. They’ll understand. Deep down, they probably always suspected this would happen—it was only a matter of time.” The scientist let out a tired smile, though doubt still flickered in her eyes. “I wish I could believe it’s that simple.” “You know you’re sexy when you’re jealous?” “Stop it, moron.” She blushed, shy but unable to suppress the warm laugh that finally broke the tension that had built up over weeks of secret moments and arguments. With that open confrontation, they accepted the challenges and joys their union would bring. Neteyam gently cupped her face, his fingers strong yet tender, brushing over her human skin with the reverence reserved for something sacred. They seemed suspended in perfect calm, and just as they were about to seal everything with a kiss, a strange sound escaped her lips. An unexpected spasm interrupted the moment as Celeste doubled over, one hand to her mouth, the other clutching her stomach. She rushed to the sink as violent retching overtook her. The young Na’vi steadied her firmly, his face etched with concern. “It must’ve been something I ate. It’s nothing,” she said between ragged breaths, trying to downplay it, but it wasn’t nothing.

In the following days, the girl continued to suffer from nausea and growing weakness. Despite her reluctance, Neteyam insisted she get visited. “I don’t want to alarm the clan or make them think there’s a problem, especially now that we’ve decided to go public,” she argued, trying to pacify him. “We need to figure out what’s happening. This has to be serious to leave you like this,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. Celeste sighed, resting a hand on her forehead. “Maybe it’s just stress. There’s no need to panic.” He shook his head, determined. “It’s not normal for you to be like this. Please, get checked out. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me—for Spider.” His golden eyes were filled with worry.

When her symptoms worsened, she had no choice.

The infirmary was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of lamps—a bubble of technological modernity nestled within Pandora's untamed beauty. Norm and Max worked with the scanning equipment while the girl lay on the exam table, her face pale and marked by exhaustion. For days, she had suffered from dizziness and an inexplicable heaviness. As the machine hummed softly, scanning her body, she sought comfort in Neteyam’s gaze. He knelt by her side, his fingers fidgeting nervously. Behind them stood Spider, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Though they tried to appear calm, their eyes betrayed a growing unease.

After what felt like an eternity, Max’s eyes widened, glued to the screen in disbelief and a hint of fear. “This… this isn’t possible,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. Celeste sat up, alarmed. “What isn’t possible?” The doctor double-checked the readings, frowning. “There’s no sign of infection or poisoning. Your vital signs are stable, but…” He hesitated, glancing at Norm. “What?” she whispered. Max took a deep breath and pointed at the screen. “There’s an unusual reading… Though maybe calling it unusual isn’t accurate.” “What do you mean?” Neteyam leaned forward, his golden eyes fixed on the monitor, staring at the dark speck on the display. With another sigh, Max activated a 3D image showing a tiny, pulsating structure, barely perceptible. “You’re pregnant.”

The room fell into an oppressive, deafening silence. The patient stared at the dark speck on the monitor, unable to form a response. Her heart pounding louder than the sound of the equipment, she finally whispered, “There must be a mistake. Neteyam and I… we’re biologically incompatible.” Norm nodded slowly. “In theory, you’re right. But I’ve checked the parameters once again. There’s no mistake. All the signs are there: elevated hormones, physiological changes, and an embryonic presence. Sweetheart, it’s happened—you’re truly pregnant.”

Despite feeling her grip on his fingers tighten, Neteyam couldn’t tear his eyes away from the medical terminal. The voices around him faded into a distant echo, as though he couldn’t fully process what he was hearing and seeing. This was news no one had ever anticipated—something no one had ever considered as it was supposed to be impossible. Behind them, Spider paced back and forth, his hands buried in his dreadlocks. “No, no, no.” He shook his head, unable to accept what they were saying. “There has to be another explanation. Maybe some genetic mutation, or…” He trailed off, his voice trembling.

A whirlwind of thoughts spun through the mind of the Omatikaya prince, visions of a hazy future, each scenario more terrifying than the last, all culminating in the absence of the woman he loved. “What are we supposed to do now?” Cel… the baby. Everything felt so… uncertain. “It all depends on what you decide to do,” Norm suggested, a clear implication hanging in the air. “Terminate the pregnancy?” “… it’s the simplest option.”

Celeste’s eyes filled with tears. As much as her rational side whispered that this was the most logical and risk-free solution, she already felt a deep connection to the being growing inside her. As though she sensed there was something larger at play than just motherhood, a bond with… “Eywa,” she murmured simply. “The effect of the panopyra, our union at the Tree of Voice, this,” she wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach. “The Great Mother united us for a reason, but this child… it’s a hybrid, yawne. We don’t know what that entails, or what will happen to your health. And no one here can help us. Your technology isn’t equipped to handle these kinds of… anomalies.” His heart pounded, his mind clashing with every possibility. How could he protect his mate and their child from a fate that seemed so dangerous? “Are you asking me to—?” “No! Eywa, no. I would never ask you to do that. But… I’m terrified, okay? You’re my person. It’s my job to protect you from harm, but how can I when I don’t understand what’s happening? I had come to terms with the fact that we wouldn’t have a family of our own. And being just us was enough for me, 'cause as long as I had you, nothing else mattered. But now… the most beautiful, incredible thing in the world has happened, and I can’t even celebrate it because it might…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

The tension between them grew, and at that moment, another voice broke into the room. Spider, who had been silently sitting in the corner, sprang to his feet as if struck by lightning. His face was pale and strained, his eyes swollen with horror. The news had overwhelmed him. “This… this is too much! It’s not possible!” he shouted, his voice trembling. “You… Neteyam! How the hell did this happen?! How could you let this happen?!” Her brother's words, loaded with rage and panic, hit Neteyam like a punch. His face twisted. “This is all your fault! You’re Na’vi! This child…” Celeste stood up, frightened by her brother’s outburst, and took a step forward to intervene. “Spider, calm down… it’s no one’s fault. It’s not what you think.”

But Spider couldn’t contain his anxiety. His fear drove him to act without thinking. “You don’t understand! Do you know what you’re risking? This… this baby isn’t just a symbol of an impossible union—it’s a danger to you!” he shouted, his eyes filled with terror and disillusionment. “What will carrying a Na’vi-human hybrid do to your body? How much energy will it drain from you? Have you thought about how big the fetus will get before it’s born? How will you deliver it?”

Neteyam glared back at him with equal fury, his heart pounding, his posture stiff, his face tense. But there was also a sense of helplessness constricting him because, deep down, he didn’t know how to handle the situation either. The weight of responsibility and dread was crushing him. “I didn’t choose this, Spider. But it’s happened, and we have to face it together,” he said at last, trying to keep his voice steady. Spider, crushed, looked at the future olo’eyktan with eyes filled with both anger and anguish. “I can’t accept this,” he finally said, his voice reduced to a whisper.

It was at that moment that Kiri entered the room, sensing the intensity of the argument. When she saw him so agitated, she approached him calmly. “Monkey boy,” she said, her voice soothing. “This isn’t a threat. It’s proof of how great Eywa’s power is. This child… it’s not just a mistake. It’s a sign, something that goes beyond our fears.” Spider seemed shaken but couldn’t put aside the distress gnawing at him. Neteyam, though hearing the weight of Kiri’s words, still couldn’t let go of his worry. His need to protect Celeste was all-consuming, and the idea that she might be at such great risk devastated him.

Kiri’s face was calm yet resolute. “Brother, don’t be afraid. This is the path the Great Mother has chosen for you. Her decisions are always wise, even when we cannot fully understand them.” Her voice carried the gravity of an ancient truth, and silence filled the room. Then she approached Celeste gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t just your life at stake. This creature is a manifestation of the union of two opposite worlds, worlds that have been at odds until now. It’s the beginning of something new, a path forward together. We’ve seen signs of this connection. Your child is a blessing.”

Neteyam looked at his sister with eyes full of questions, but at last, a small glimmer of hope began to grow within him. Perhaps, despite all his fears, this child had a purpose beyond what he could see. Spider, though still harboring doubts, lowered his gaze. The consternation remained, but Kiri’s intervention seemed to have, at least, partially soothed his anxieties.

“We’ll do this together,” Celeste said, extending one hand toward her mate and the other toward her twin, her look locking with theirs, filled with an intensity they had never seen before. “We’ll face this future, whatever it may bring.” Neteyam took a deep breath, gathering the courage he needed. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but deep down, he knew he would stand by her side. And maybe, in time, he could learn to embrace this destiny that seemed impossible to comprehend.

“You can’t do this alone,” Kiri concluded. “Maybe it’s time to speak with Mo’at.”

[ginxyy]

Letting Go

I’m burning up a sun, just to say Goodbye

Your heart feels heavy as you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at the soft glow of your phone screen. A cascade of memories flashes through your mind, each moment more bittersweet than the last, reminding you of the warmth of his laughter and the solace of his embrace. Mingyu, the galaxy of stardust you fell hopelessly in love with, stands at the center of your thoughts a vibrant star whose brilliance illuminated your once-ordinary life. But now, the distance widens with every tick of the clock, and you’re reminded too sharply of the space between you that only grows as his fame expands.

Mingyu is a name that echoes through arenas, an entity adored and sought after by countless fans whose devotion knows no bounds. And yet here, in the silence of your room, it feels as though he belongs only to you, wrapped in the intimate warmth of your shared moments. You replay the nights in your mind the hushed whispers in the dark, the gentle caress of his hand in yours, evenings spent entwined in each other’s arms where the world outside felt irrelevant, if only for a fleeting moment. But reality has a way of creeping in during those peaceful hours, casting shadows over the fragile sanctuary you’ve built.

You remember how he held you close, the way his eyes sparkled with joy when you talked about your dreams. He would listen intently, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he could hear the silent hope you held for both of you. But as the days turned into months and the months folded into a whirlwind of album launches and concert tours, the spark in his eyes began to wane, replacing joy with an all-consuming exhaustion. With each passing day, you prayed for the return of the boy who used to steal glances at you, the boy who would plan elaborate surprises just to see you smile. Yet, as his world expanded, so did the chasm that separated you.

It’s a cold evening when you find yourself sitting in a cozy café, the muted hum of laughter surrounding you like a comforting quilt. Your fingers grip the cup tightly, the warmth seeping into your skin. Across the table, Mingyu sits, his handsome face drawn, shadows dancing beneath his eyes signs of sleepless nights spent preparing, rehearsing, and performing for a world that adores him. You can almost hear the faint echo of his heartbeat beneath the surface, a reminder of the connection you still share, yet it feels so tenuous, like a thread threatening to unravel at the slightest tug. As he recounts the glories of his latest performance, your heart sinks under the weight of his words, realizing you have become a spectator in the spectacular show of his life.

You find yourself fighting back tears, envisioning the life he deserves one filled with applause, adoration, and happiness. How could you keep him anchored in a world that demands his every ounce of energy? You replay the thought, a vicious cycle, and as dawn arrives with a heavy heart, you know what you must do. In another world, perhaps this love could shine brighter, but in this reality, his star is meant to soar unhindered.

As you walk home, the city moves around you in a whirl of colors and noise, yet everything feels muted, as if the universe has momentarily detached itself from your reality. You can almost hear the cosmic clock ticking, a reminder that time is not on your side. The streets are alive, bustling with life, but inside, you’re crumbling an aching heart begging for solace in a world that refuses to stop for love.

That night, you craft a message a letter filled with words straight from your heart, each line dripped with sorrow and longing. “I am burning up a sun just to say goodbye,” you write, the phrase spilling into existence like an unbidden prayer. Each word feels like an ember, igniting memories of laughter and warmth, illuminating the darkness creeping into your heart. You express how much he means to you, how watching him flourish was your greatest joy, and yet, you can’t be the anchor weighing him down.

Mingyu deserves the world: the sparkling cities, the cheering fans, and the soothing whispers of love that accompany his rise to glory. The truth is brutal, an unwavering beam of light piercing through the haze of your emotions. You are destined to fade into the background, a fading echo in a symphony that no longer requires your note. This love, while beautiful, isn't enough to tether him to a life that entraps him, choking on commitments that pull him away from the very essence of what makes him happy.

That fateful night, you gather every ounce of courage you have left and send the letter. The weight of it leaves you breathless, a tidal wave of emotions crashing over you. How does one say goodbye to a piece of their heart? Hours feel like lifetimes as you await his response, the anticipation mingling with despair. An insistent flutter in your chest reminds you of the void he’ll leave behind, a chasm far grander and emptier than you imagine.

As dawn breaks, the light filtering softly through your window, you receive a reply. His words are a gentle touch, filled with the love and fondness you both share, yet beneath them, you can sense the sinking weight of understanding. “You were my sunshine, and now I must learn to live without it,” he writes. And in those lines, you see the reflection of his soul, echoing your feelings both utterly lost and exceedingly grateful for the love you once shared.

Time moves ever onward, carriages of yesterday slip into the past, leaving impressions on your heart but insisting that you continue. Your sorrow is real, aching deeply in your chest as you tread forward into a world without him. Yet, you understand the bittersweet nature of love sometimes it means letting go, allowing someone to blaze their path, even if it leaves you in shadows. As you walk through the remnants of what once was, you hold onto his memory, cherished yet painful a beautiful tapestry of love now transformed into a melody of goodbye.

(Sorry i felt Angsty)

“Don’t cry when the sun is gone, because the tears won’t let you see the stars”

[the-s1lly-corner]

Can you write for Masky/Tim that has a grumpy x sunshine dynamic with the reader? Bonus points if it’s enemies to lovers. They’d literally be Branch and Poppy from Trolls 😭😭

Tim/masky x sunshine!reader !

hopefully this can be read as either mh or creepypasta, since i adore both takes on masky/tim (more so modern creepypasta takes that ive personally seen at least) so! going to split this into 2 parts so tim and masky can have their own parts since i write them a little differently from one another! i! need to watch the trolls movies, ive heard good things about them, especially the newest one....

Tims part//

honestly in a weird way you kind of rub oeff on him.. now does tim just become more... upbeat and happy? ....maybe just a teeeeeeny tiiiiiny smidge, but no where near your level. you have a positive effect on him, thats for sure, but hes still very clearly handling his own issues and hes still his usual self. though, you do sometimes catch him smiling just ever so slightly when hes watching you go on about your day or rambling about something! and i think that alone is very sweet, like hes going through so much/has gone through so much if this is post MH/MH specific, but he still finds it in himself to unwind just a tiny bit thanks to your energy. though, you do sometimes tend to be a little too kind, so sometimes he feels he needs to step in to make sure you dont get hurt or taken advantage of. its not that youre dumb, but you can sometimes see the best in people before they have the chance to show that they actually possess that good in the first place, you know? kind of envies how you just roll with things and dont let most things effect you, though there will be hell on the chance something DOES upset you... more so a solutions than comfort guy, though!

Maskys part//

very similar to tim in regards that masky likes observing you when youre being your joyous self, and you just slightly rub off on him. while tim is more grumpy and cautious, masky is more so.... well he doesnt emote a lot and the mask sure as hell doesnt help matters, as well as him not speaking... though your energy is still infectious, sometimes when hes signing to you, his signs are a little more energetic and such. but not by much. to outsiders they wouldnt be able to tell something is different, but you can... though i dont think masky does, and if he does he doesnt say anything.. while tim would offer solutions when youre upset, masky... well he also offers solutions, but in a much different way. not going to elaborate other than that his solutions tend to be very "hands on" and "straight forward" in regards to handling the issue. less of a grumpy stormcloud x sunshine dynamic and more of a collected stoic x sunshine! if that makes sense!