#I can't succeed at angst I'm sorry

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting. 

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself… 

Now that is pure hell. 

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good. 

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you." 

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?" 

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 

"I'm just…" 

Jesus, this is just humiliating. 

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–" 

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…" 

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know." 

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to. 

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok." 

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 

Whoa. 

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…" 

He sounds dazed. 

Relieved. 

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

[myalvmss]

⎯⎯ DATING HEADCANONS WITH AQUAMARINE HOSHINO❞

CHARACTERS. aquamarine hoshino, ruby hoshino, ai hoshino, akane kurokawa mention

MISSION. headcanons ; adventure mission, silent yet shining

WARNINGS. mentions of pregnancy & sex? this is mostly just me digging into aqua's character more and more, ANGST will most definitely be in this, but dont worry!

BUTTERFLY'S NOTE. special thanks to my friend named Ryu I guess LMAOAOAOAO. THIS IS SHORT??

⌗O1: when I tell you, this man makes me frustrated every two seconds of reading the manga, I have a love and hate relationship with this man that not even scaramouche can compete with, BECAUSE RIGHT OFF THE BAT, HE'S A RED FLAG. BAHAHAHAH 😭

⌗O2: when you two first meet, he barely does effort in the so called friendship, or what he thinks of acquaintance.

UNLESS you are of use to his plan, so he'll probably use you, sorry bitch </3

⌗O3: this mf's ideal type is just someone like ai hoshino (imo NO ONE can replace her, not even akane sorry not sorry) and what makes you think you can pull off an ai?

i suggest you CHANGE him, not change yourself for him honey

⌗O4: this depends on your personality, but the relationship might be a sunshine reader while aqua's the grumpy one LMFAOAOAOAO

⌗O5: aqua doesn't engage in social media much, unlike his twin sister ruby. in other words, he's a boomer yet I'm not surprised so it's mostly you who takes pictures and videos of u both

⌗O6: you and aqua often go on dates at the cafe, park, or mostly private places where you two can get alone time with no interruptions

⌗O7: he's SO OVERPROTECTIVE ABOUT YOU. imagine yandere aqua omfg, he even makes sure that you're safe and doing well everyday

A caring boyfriend but a red flag 🚩

⌗O8: In the song, "MEPHISTO" I think there's a lyric where "I'll bet my life, I'll give it to you" would imply that to the people he cares about, aqua WILL risk his life for you. THOUGH this song probably directs to ai, or ruby? but either way, he still cares about you if you were actually his girlfriend. not just for his revenge plan, but purely his own love for you.

yet sometimes I think, "would aqua even bother asking you to be his girlfriend at a time crisis like this?"

It's a possibility he wants to keep you safe and unharmed from danger, so he'll probably lock up his feelings from you and keep it a secret so no danger will come for you, but it's not guaranteed </3

⌗O9: in an au where ai is alive, I wouldn't say that ai would straight away approve of your relationship with aqua. she's a mother, yes but not those kinds who don't give a fuck abt relationships ykwim?

when she first met you, she's a bit suspicious of you, especially if you're someone who's young, but your mind is well beyond your age.

It took a while, but she got used to you around with aqua and genuinely loves you

���you two aren't getting a kid, right?” just a few reassurances that YOU BOTH AREN'T GOING THE SAME ROUTE AS WHAT SHE DID.. “mama! don't ask questions out of the blue like that!” ruby come rescue us both PLS

“mama.. cut it out please,” insert a little bit of a flushed red aqua PLSS

⌗10: honestly, taking back the topic where you change aqua actually would work, because this man is wanting revenge and is willing to kill his father.

you can't be the one who helps him, that will end up ugly if he does succeed, because let's not forget how aqua can get arrested despite being a minor, yet he's 17 (currently in manga) and he might turn 18 soon enough

so you have to BE THE SAVIOR who changes aqua to be a better person and set aside this revenge

honestly. it's not worth it, I KNOW this is about ai hoshino getting her justice, but would she wanna see her kids in danger like this??

DON'T go off like "aqua this isn't like you 🥺🥺" NO LMAO. you knew aqua when he was 16, that's a super high possibility on who you met him, and the person he is now is just the same aquamarine hoshino you him at sixteen

just imo, you need to convince aqua that his revenge path won't do anything better for anyone's lives, because correctly he's ruining everything — the man probably doesn't care but you gotta make him care and move on for the better like how ai would want for him and ruby

ENOUGH WITH THE DARK SHIT LMFAO PLS AHAHAHAHAH

⌗11: if you're smaller than aqua, then he'll probably use you as a head rest

lay his head on your shoulder

rest his head on your lap

place his head ontop of yours

⌗12: SURPRISE BACK HUGS >>>>>

⌗13: whenever aqua is jealous, he always keeps it a secret from you so that you won't tease him about it

think of a scenario where you're talking to some guy on the street, a fan or an old friend;

aqua would slowly wrap his arm around your waist and pull you towards him WHILE giving the guy a very overprotective look

⌗14: he can't help it but aqua always compliments you in his mind, like how cute or gorgeous you are

⌗15: i like to think you both started getting together after his so-called revenge plan for his father

⌗16: aqua's careful around you, by that I mean when it comes to sex. he doesn't wanna end up being a replica of his father.

by that I mean, he'd ask for consent first for sex ( aqua's not entirely that kind of person who doesn't ask for consent )

and also would not have sex during his teenage years, as he prefers to have it at adult years ykyk

⌗17: you're a pain in the ass for him, gotta say that BAHAHAHHAHAH

⌗18: since in aqua's past life, he was a doctor ( bro's a DOCTOR. ) that took medical education, it's a high chance that he still remembers a few things

probably trauma from learning all that pain of a education lmao

⌗18: so whenever you get hurt, aqua's always the one who bandages you :))

⌗19: since aqua dislikes bell peppers, you probably shove those in aqua's mouth for shits and giggles AHAHAHA

⌗20: he acts like 'himself' (or the past him) when you're around, and you're the only person who could do that

“i noticed that he's like how he used to be when he's around y/n..” ruby spoke to herself, watching aqua and y/n from afar as a small smile appeared on her face. “I'm happy for them both.”

[6okuto]

Hi dear I have and idea for touch starved ais and vere.

WHAT IF- what if the reader (MC) is like a single parent?????

Mc's like a mild or dilf or something like that?!

AIS AND VERE WITH A SINGLE PARENT

gn!mc | meow. this (doing old reqs) is my parting gift(?)..

VERE

his ear flicks up when mc mentions their kid for the first time. where are they? why are you here? who's the other parent?

not a guy who spends time around kids. probably not a guy who should spend time around kids /hj what swear words and scary stories will he share...

^ tbf he also gives some solid life advice, even if it's a bit blunt, or something the kid doesn't understand just yet

if mc's kid is witty / snarky he finds them amusing (especially if it's at mc) and easier to be around! whether that's good for mc or not is not up to mc Lmao

it varies depending on mc's relationship with their kid but if mc's kid is grown up, vere is more of his usual self. swearing, analyzing them, taunting them, etc.

vere never thought of himself as a possible father-figure. or even like, a fun uncle. but he likes mc, and despite his complaints or denial, has grown a little fond of their child.

^ possible angst if vere's like, do you really want to be with me? am i the role model you want them to have in their life? i'm chained up for god's sake etc

gets soft/quiet when mc talks to him about their kid. he sees the fondness in their expression, and even if he can't really relate, he can still sympathize

would make a couple pilf...? jokes. sorry. it isn't necessary though. he does enough flirting and innuendos that the pilf(?) thing doesn't come up that often

brings up their kid when mc is about to do something dangerous or stupid, when they succeed at said dangerous or stupid thing, or when their kid also tries doing something dangerous and or stupid. "well it's no surprise who you got your confidence from."

vere questioning mc's parenting tactics LOL. mc is like And what do you know about parenting and vere's like. enough to judge yours. they find common ground eventually

AIS

really doubles down on his warnings about the seaspring when he finds out they're a parent. he doesn't have to know how old, what their relationship is like, etc—he's already asking how much they're willing to risk and telling them to think about their kid

otherwise he doesn't really treat mc differently—they're a grown and capable adult, and being a parent doesn't change or weaken that

ais would pick his pets over hanging out with a kid, but he doesn't give himself enough credit with how well he can get along with one

if mc's kid is old enough that he can play pranks on mc with them. well. he will. mc looks at the both of them and they both shrug like What? it wasn't us? (the kid is grinning and giggling but ais keeps it together for the both of them.)

if there's an opportunity to introduce them to princess / whoever else, he will! like look at this sweet girl, you don't have to be scared. you wanna try getting her to sit and roll around?

babysits if needed, takes them out for the day (if only to keep them away from the seaspring). they get some food and he comes up with exaggerated stories for each shop the kid points out

mc's kid who's old enough for ais to teach them some self defense after they walk in on him taking care of injuries from a bar fight. mc who walks in on them and goes ?!?!?!

mc vents about their parenting troubles, and ais isn't sure if his leadership advice/experience is totally applicable to taking care of a child, but surely some of it is? he tries to help anyway

i can see their kid opening up to ais about things that worry them tbh. he's got that vibe. depending on what it is, ais might suggest to mc something they should do, or try to help himself

similar to vere, he likes mc and their child but he wants them to think about what's best for them—if that includes him in the picture. like yes he'll do his best, but he can't blame them if things don't work out. honestly he might try to cut things off firstdjdjshd

[thememestrider]

Come Back to Me - Mephiston x F! Reader

Wrote this for the beautiful @solspina : I hope I did your man justice :)

Sypnosis: Following a psychic breakdown, the only person who can bring Mepheston back from the brink is his beloved.

C/W: Blood, angst, reverse hurt/comfort, I've only read Dante's novels so my knowledge of Mephiston is second hand at best, I did do some research and I'm confident in how I wrote him but I apologise in advance for the inevitable ooc and lore inaccurate moments XP, unedited so probably errors and typos scattered about.

Mephiston bleeds.

Blood flows untempered from his nose. It leaks from his ears. The taste of copper coats his tongue and fangs, and tears streaked with red tumble in streams down his cheeks. His soul is bleeding, too. Punctured by the warp, he can feel what little is left of his humanity pouring out into the void to be devoured by the unspoken horrors that call it home.

But he does not stop. He can't. For if he were to fail now, the flagship Covenant of Baal, as well as half of Lord Dante's entire fleet would be lost in the warp forever.

His brothers are relying on him to get them home. Trusting him to get them through the warp unscathed. He must not fail them. He mustn't.

"Lord Mephiston!"

A deep voice made tight by fear breaks through Mephiston's reverie. A space marine; a librarian. Mephiston searches for a name, but his mind hasn't the strength to find it.

"My lord!" the librarian shouts again. "The ritual is unstable. We must leave the warp. Now!"

"No." Amplified by the warp and his own, growing fury, Mephiston's voice booms like a war drum. "Baal is close. I can feel it. A few moments longer and we will be there."

"You'll kill yourself, my lord! Or worse, you'll-"

Mephiston cuts him off with a growl. He knows what the librarian is insinuating; that should he loose control of his powers, he could kill everyone on this ship. The marine isn't wrong, Mephiston understands that better than anyone. But that doesn't stop it from stinging just a little when it is brought up.

Which is why I must succeed now. I must not fail my brothers. I must show them they can rely on me. That they can trust me.

The librarian continues to shout his warnings, but Mephiston is no longer listening. The pull he feels towards his destination is strengthening. When he looks out through the infinite dark of the void before him, he can see Baal outlined in red.

So close.

Pain takes him in a vice-like grip. His body seizes. Daemons rake their claws down his soul. They're feeding off his power, he realises. Preparing to use him as a gateway into the material world. In his weakened, exhausted state, Mephiston isn't sure if he can fight them off.

Through the cloud of psychic agony, he remembers words spoken to him by Lord Dante, just days ago.

"You are my friend, Mephiston, but know this. Should you ever become a threat to this chapter or humanity at large, I will strike you down myself."

Dante had said it as a vow. Not only as a leader, but as a friend. It pains Mephiston as much as the creatures tearing into his soul. He wonders if the librarians are seeking out the chapter master so he may fulfill that vow now.

A daemon sinks its fangs into him. He feels them puncture his hearts and shear through what's left of his strength. He screams. Eyes slamming shut, chest heaving from the pain. His mind is determined to hold on, but his body is failing. The strain is too much. It seems the librarian- still Mephiston can't recall his name- had been right.

"Meph? Can you hear me?"

I am sorry, my brothers. I am sorry, my beloved. I was not strong enough. I believed that I was, but I am not.

Her voice cannot hope to pierce the cacophony that is the warp. Yet, somehow, it does.

"Just focus on me, Meph."

Throne, her voice is beautiful. It was one of the first things he'd noticed about her. Wielding both strength and kindness in equal parts, just like her heart.

"You can do this, Mephiston," she says to him. "You can break free. You always do. Just come back to me. Like you always do."

Mephiston opens his eyes. Amidst the haze of psychic madness, the planet Baal remains tantalisingly near. But Mephiston is not searching for it any more. He's searching for her.

"I love you, Meph," she says. "I love you so much. No matter what happens to you or how much you change, I love you all the same."

In spite of everything he is enduring right now, her words pull at Mephiston's hearts like nothing else ever could. It drive him to go faster. Push harder. Tear his way free from the warp and get back to her. It means cutting the warp-jump short; there will be questions from the captains, maybe even Lord Dante himself. It means failing his duty, failing his brothers. But Mephiston does not care. He would rather fail them all a thousand times than cause his woman pain.

The shift from the warp to the real is near instant, and far less physically taxing that vice versa. Typically, it'd be as simple as opening one's eyes. But Mephiston is weakened, his body on the brink of total failure. The real world returns with the force of a whip, and immediately, Mephiston's world is dominated by agony.

The Lord of Death falls to his knees. Blood spills from his eyes and nose. His long silver hair clings to the sweat pouring off his shoulders and chest. His vision blurs. The room begins to spin. Again, Mephiston feels himself falling. This time, though, a pair of soft, nimble hands catch him.

"Easy, Meph. Easy. I've got you."

Her tone is gentle. Her voice, as soft as her touch. Her body trembles under his weight. In spite of his hurts, Mephiston pushes himself upright so as not to lean on her anymore. She frames his face with her hands. He can see tears in her eyes. "Gauis!" she shouts. "Fetch an Apothecary."

The librarian called Gauis nods and takes off without another word. Mephiston realises he was the same librarian who'd been shouting warnings at him before.

With Gauis gone, it is only the two of them here, now. It's then that she throws her arms around Mepheston's neck and drags him into a crushing embrace. "You silly, silly man," she whispers. Mephiston realises she is weeping. "Don't you ever do that to me again. Ever."

She squeezes him tighter. The sleeves of her shirt are growing stained with his sweat and blood, but she doesn't seem to care. Though he barely has the strength to raise him arms, Mephiston returns her embrace in earnest. "I am sorry, my sweet." His voice is thick with fatigue and emotion. He hates it when she cries. He hates it even more when he is the cause. "I thought I had it. I have done this so many times before, I-"

"I don't care." Arms still wrapped around his neck, she draws away just enough so as to meet his eye. Her hands find the base of his scalp. Ever so gently, she strokes him there. "The next time Gauis tells you to cut a ritual short," she tells him. "You listen. If not for your own safety, then for my own peace of mind."

Mephiston looks at her. Since his transformation, his hearts have lost much of their capacity for compassion. But what shreds are leftover belong solely to her. Every piece of him that is still human, still a man, loves her as fiercely as they possibly can. All of this, he lets show in his face. It almost moves him to tears. "I will," he says. "I promise."

She smiles at him. It's the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen. Ignoring the blood plastering his face, she leans in and kisses Mephiston, so fiercely it makes his jaw ache. Mephiston struggles to return it in kind, almost tipping over backward from the force with which she presses into him. He winces as the room sways again. She catches his head and guides him to the floor. "It's okay, Meph. You're okay." Gently, she lowers herself down beside him. "The Apothecary will be here soon. For now, just rest."

Without thinking, Mephiston reaches for her hand. She takes it in both of hers and squeezes it tight. "Thank you, " he murmurs.

She brushes her lips across his knuckles. "You know you don't need to thank me. Not now, not ever."

[illumnis]

finish line. — you and alhaitham are not friends, far from it. you're not exactly lovers either; so why does he decide to take ten steps back and settle for aquaintances?

pairing: alhaitham x gn!reader

warnings: kinda toxic? idk to each and their own, he's just really emotionally ignorant, mentions of non-sexual nudity, angst, unedited

note: look what i'm back with (i am so sorry this is bad,,, i haven't written in AGES), also happy summer i am officially not a highschooler anymore!

alhaitham is efficient. he decides what is considered more work than necessary and greatly succeeds with the basic necessities. this also means that alhaitham has every intention to finish what he starts and only starts what he knows he can finish.

alhaitham also holds your hand so you can fall asleep at night despite the nightmares that plague your imagination, but he leaves before you can wake up. alhaitham helps you scrub away the finely ground sand off of your sweaty body after a research project done on the dunes residing in the sumerian desert, even allowing you to do the same to him, but he always rejects your offer to cook him dinner afterwards in celebration of the grueling excursion. alhaitham whispers how you're devastatingly beautiful as he washes your hair without care if you hear him or not, but he can't bring himself to help you dry it.

for once in his life, alhaitham has started something he can't bring himself to finish.

he wonders why you're bitter all of a sudden. how you can't bring yourself to look at him in the eyes anymore, how you walk a step behind him instead of a linked pace, how you don't let him touch your hair anymore, how you don't invite him over or ask if you can tag along on his journeys to the desert.

you're avoiding him and he blames his irritation on the fact that friends aren't supposed to brush each other off.

you're not entirely sure when the two of you started treading the line between acceptable and having alhaitham push you away, but the unspoken agreement was that this was all it was going to be. you're not like alhaitham. often times, you walk the world on your terms, which must be why you now found yourself on the opposing side of the agreement.

who can blame you? he's seen you, flesh and bone. under your clothes and to your heart. he's seen you, your rampant imagination, both the good and the bad parts. he's seen you most vulnerable, stating that even this side of you is worth adoring.

the waiting game was a exhausting one, even before, you knew he'd be the last person to bring your... situation with him up; which is why you settle for slowly stretching the strings of your relationship until they snap, and you never have to look back.

or that was at least the idea until you were crying behind the akademiya over an offhanded comment that your least favourite professor had made about you. he was there, somehow he always is, and he was holding you. his warmth was the same as it had been since you had last invited him over, which only made you cry more. had your absence not frosted his heart over at least a little?

by the time you're done crying, you are no longer in his arms and he looks at you with a mixture of hurt and comfort. something vengeful in you is satisfied that you have given him a taste of how he leaves you.

"i'll always be here when you need me, yn, regardless of if you choose to stop being acquainted with me or not."

somehow, his reassuring words do the opposite and the vengeful spirit in you grows.

"then why can't you let me need you all the time? what's stopping you from letting us rely on each other? it's not like you act like we don't already."

this seals his lips and a subtle frown paints itself over his them and something inside you aches. you have always prided yourself in being able to bring the most emotion out of him that anyone has in years. now, you are stuck with pitiful expressions; frowns nonetheless.

it's a heavy silence that takes over the atmosphere before you've decided that whether you hear his answer or not, you'll still hear your glass heart shatter. so you move to get up.

"i can't take the risk. not yet." it flows out of his mouth so naturally. almost like he's been waiting for your confrontation.

"risk? what risk, alhaitham? look at what you've started, you've already taken it," you're fuming, a new level of self-loathing filling your being at the idea of you being so naive to believe that someone who can't even call you a friend could be full of love, "either finish what you've started, or destroy it before you lose yourself in it."

alhaitham's silence elicits a scoff from your lips and you're grateful you had shaken yourself out of his touch earlier, or else you'd find yourself back at square one; forgiving him and asking once more if he'd let you make him dinner hoping his answer would be different.

you'll help him out one last time, you guess. walking away as he doesn’t spare you a glance, stuck in the position that was meant to comfort you, only for it to end whatever mess he had started.

navi. mlist.

[halsteadlover]

Jealousy, jealousy

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: you and Jay get in an argument and don’t talk to each other, meeting again after some time at a wedding. What will happen when he sees you talking to another man?

• Warnings: angst, lots of swearing, fingering, nudity, unprotected sex (always use protection don’t be like them), semi public sex.

• Word count: 4530.

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+. I’m such a sucker for jealous Jay but I don’t know how to feel honestly, I feel like whenever I try to write it doesn’t succeed my expectations 😭 But here we are, let me know what do you think, comments, likes are reblogs are really appreciated ❤️ Love you all xx

Jay was about to lose his mind.

He was on the verge of going crazy, his patience running thin as he watched you from a distance laughing and joking with your friends, as if nothing could upset you.

He couldn't take his eyes off you even though his mind kept projecting and reminding him why you were in that situation. He couldn't take his eyes off you because you were gorgeous, the most beautiful woman his gaze had ever laid on, because you belonged to him but he couldn't even talk to you.

His blood boiled in his veins, his hands closing into fists. He hated everything and everyone in that moment and he hated you. He was hating you for the way you were acting like nothing happened, for the way you tucked your wavy hair behind your shoulders, the way you kept adjusting your dress, that dress so terribly perfect he just wanted to literally rip it off you and never let you wear it again.

He hated the way he was there, at a distance, hawking your every move, analyzing everything you did and your lips when he wanted to do nothing but get close to you, circle your hips with his arm and never let you go. He hated that he was pining for you and couldn't do anything to make up for it because you hadn't said a word to him.

You hadn't given him a single look, not even a glare, and Jay couldn't blame you because it was all his fault, because he had taken you for granted and now he was in danger of losing you forever.

Jay got back home, not realizing it was now midnight and that, once again, he had broken his promise to have dinner with you.

“Hey bab…-” he said to greet you as soon as he saw you on the sofa, a book in your hands. You closed it with more force than expected before placing it next to you.

“No, no 'baby,'”you interrupted him, your tone strangely cold and calm and Jay knew immediately that something was wrong. “We need to talk.”

He sat next to you, his heart pounding. “If it's for the dinner…”

You interrupted him again, not wanting to listen to the umpteenth excuses he would’ve made. You were tired. “I want a break, I don't know if I want to continue this relationship.”

Jay's heart stopped for an instant and a horrified expression came over his face. “W-what?”.

You stood up, your eyes on his wide and full of fear. The way you were looking at him, so coldly, so detached, Jay felt like dying. “You heard me.”

“No, no, no, you can't. W-we can't take a break, we can talk about it…” he stammered.

“No Jay, there's nothing to talk about,” you retorted. “I'll be gone for a couple of days.”

“No, like hell you're going away, I won't let you...”

“Where have you been all this time?”.

“I was working you know this, there was a case that hit us up to the neck. I'm so sorry…”

“It's the fifth time this month we've set up a date and you stand me off,” you said, feeling tears prick your eyes but forcing yourself to stay strong “I'm tired Jay.”

“No, you can't say that. Y/N I love you, you can't leave me...”

“How do you love me Jay?!” you blurted out, louder than you meant to, unable to keep your composure anymore “Is this your way of loving me? By standing me up on every date? Forgetting our anniversary? How are you loving me?!”.

“Y/N…” he mumbled your name, not knowing what to say other than 'I'm sorry' because you were so damn right.

“No Jay! I'm fucking tired! I'm tired of feeling like your second choice! I'm tired of feeling taken for granted because you think I won't have the balls to leave you since I love you too much. Great news Jay, I'm going to leave your ass because I can't take this anymore!” you almost yelled, now in a fit of anger “I don’t want to beg for affection and love from my boyfriend! Asking you to please spend some time with me! All you think about is work, work, work, always this fucking job, and when do you think of me?!”.

“I'm doing what I fucking can Y/N! I am sorry! You're right, I neglected you but you can't leave me...”

“God I hate you so fucking much right now,” you ran your hands through your hair in frustration “I hate you so much because I feel like a selfish bitch who only thinks about herself! I know you work, I know your job is very important but I'm tired! I tried to understand you, to stay silent, to meet your needs… But I'm human too Jay! I exist in the relationship too, I too have my desires, my needs and my fears fuck, it's not just you! Have you ever once asked me 'how are you' or 'how was your day’? You never fucking did! All you can say is 'sorry, sorry, sorry' expecting this will fix everything but it doesn't work like that! And I've fucking had enough, I'm tired of fighting for a relationship you don't even give a shit about!”.

You left him no room to reply because you went into the bedroom to get the suitcase you had already packed. Jay tried to stop you, tried to apologize but it was in vain, you left the apartment, never looking back.

And that was the last time he saw you before meeting you again at the wedding you were both invited to, almost two weeks later.

There was no shortage of attempts of reconciliation from Jay, all of which were rejected and after which he understood he had to respect you and give you your space.

But God, how he missed you.

“Halstead,” he heard someone call to him, looking away from you for an instant only to see Adam beside him with a glass of liquor. Jay stood in the back of the room, leaning against the wall and hands in his trousers’ pockets as he withdrew from the festivities.

“Thanks,” he replied before taking the glass and downing the liquor, which turned out to be whiskey, and looking for you in the crowd. You were still talking to a group of your friends, a glass of champagne you occasionally sipped. A veiled expression of disgust appeared on your face as you took a sip of the champagne and Jay smiled, knowing it wasn't your favorite liquor and that you were most likely just drinking it for company.

“You're ridiculous man,” Adam commented, taking a sip of his drink when he noticed the direction of Jay's gaze. “Why don't you just talk to her?”.

Jay sighed. “She doesn't want to talk to me and I don't blame her.”

He saw the way you adjusted your dress, running your hand up the skirt, smoothing it. His ravenous and hungry eyes traveled all over your body, watching the way that dress hugged you and showed off every curve of your body. It was a long ice silk mermaid gown, the thick straps of your dress dropped past your shoulders leaving them bare and a long deep slit on the right side showed off your leg. Jay was losing his mind, he was literally going crazy.

“Standing here and watching her like a hawk isn't going to fix the situation. You look like a creep.”

“I know, fuck, I know.” His fingers drummed on the glass, feeling a grip in his stomach when he saw you laughing heartily at a joke from a friend of yours, your head tilted back and your hand resting on his shoulder.

Jay began to smoke with rage and jealousy, about to break the empty glass with his own hands. Your friend placed a hand on your lower back, saying something to your ear. Jay swore he saw your gaze flicker to him and a small smirk on your lips but he was too focused and angry about that filthy hand on you to make any logical thought.

He'd always been jealous, that funny jealousy you always teased him about, but in that moment seeing that bastard so close to you, the way he was blatantly hitting on you, the way you didn't even realized it and kept laughing and joking with him, making him think he had a chance… All of this was too much, too much for Jay to bear.

He was the only one that could touch you like this, the only one that could make you laugh, get close to your ear and whisper something to you.

That’s why, when he headed towards you, with a furious and angry look on his face, Adam's attempt to stop him was in vain.

Before you knew what was happening, Jay's hand was already around your wrist and he was dragging you away from the reception room, leaving the man you were talking to standing there.

“Jay stop! I’m wearing heels, I can't run!” you exclaimed as you struggled to keep up with him, your other hand holding up your dress to avoid tripping. You walked into one of the bathrooms there and Jay wasted no time in locking it.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you asked trying to keep your voice low so no one would hear you. His breathing quickened, his chest heavy as his fingers rubbed his temples, a gesture he used to do when he was particularly frustrated.

“You’re really asking me what am I doing? What the fuck are you doing?!” he exclaimed angrily, his eyes on yours “Do I need to remind you you're not fucking single, Y/N? Or did you end our relationship without even having the courage to say it to my face?”.

“You had no right to drag me away like that Jay! My goodness!”.

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a nervous chuckle. “I can't believe it,” he threw his hands in the air “We haven't seen each other for two weeks and this is your fucking thought!”.

“And whose fault is that for ending up in this situation, huh?!” you spit angry. He was looking at you with an angry expression on his face, his jaw set, his hair messy from fingers constantly running through it, but he was so incredibly sexy it took your breath away. And you hated yourself for these thoughts, because you were locked in a bathroom and you couldn't help but think about how damn beautiful he was, how pure sex the suit he was wearing was.

“I'm doing everything to make it up to you, Y/N! I've been coming to your house for two weeks and you won't even open the door and give me the opportunity to talk and I know it's the least I could do and you deserve the world but you think I can try to improve if you keep acting like that?!”.

“How am I acting?!”.

“You’re even asking me!” he exclaimed, taking a step towards you and waving his arms in the air. “You let that son of a bitch touch you and put his filthy hands on you! You… You laughed at his jokes, joked with him all of that in front of me!” he panted “What?!” he snapped, noticing the smirk that had appeared on your lips.

You took one step towards him, and then another until you were just inches apart. His words died in his throat as he tried to keep control. But he couldn't, not when you placed a hand on his chest, not when you looked at him with those 'fuck me' eyes, not when your scent and your proximity were intoxicating him so much it took his breath away and made it impossible for him to think of anything that wasn't you.

“Are you really that jealous, huh?” you asked in a whisper, your tone low and sensual. Your fingers caressed his chest and he squeezed his hands into two tight fists, because if they touched your body he would no longer be able to control himself. “You don't like when someone touches me? When someone whispers how good I look in this dress?”.

“Y/N,” he said in a warning tone. “God. Keep your fucking mouth shut if you know what's best for you.”

“Or what? What are you going to do to me detective Halstead? Do you want me to go back to Ben?” you whispered after you leaned into his ear. You inhaled his scent deeply, that scent you missed so much, that made you dizzy, that scent you wanted to smell on every corner of your body.

Jay grabbed your face with his hand and your heart skipped a beat, his gaze alternating between your eyes and your then slightly parted lips. “If your aim is to make me lose my goddam mind darling, you are succeeding.”

You couldn't answer, the intense green of his eyes made you waver and his grip so strong but so delicate at the same time had made every single cell of your body ignite and he knew it, he understood it by the way he you looked at him, by the way your body pressed against his.

He started taking steps, making you walk backwards, slowly, until your back touched the cold tiles of the walls.

“Did you like playing with me? Driving me crazy?” he whispered as his warm breath tickled your lips. He pressed his body against yours, your chests pressed against each other and despite the various tissues that separated you, you could feel his hard erection pressed against you and that was enough to leave you wanting to have him, to feel him.

“It's one of my favorite hobbies,” you replied and he tightened his grip around your jaw.

“Just shut up for once in your life,” he hissed through his teeth. He tilted your head to one side and with his other free hand brushed your hair behind your shoulders, exposing your neck. As his lips left a small kiss on your skin, a rush of shivers ran up your spine. “I'm so fucking mad at you right now Y/N,” he planted a series of wet kisses down your neck until he got to that point he knew would drive you crazy “Even though I miss you like air,” he licked your skin, nibbling it with his teeth while sucking it lightly with his lips. You were already a mess and the heavy sighs you exhaled while trying not to moan and half-closed eyes were proof of this. “You drive me so fucking crazy.”

Your hands closed in a fist around his jacket, trying to release all the frustration and desire you were feeling. His free hand was squeezing your hips with such force you thought he’d leave some marks but a gasp left your lips as he groped your ass. God, it was so fucking good.

“But maybe you could use a little reminder,” he nibbled your ear. In one motion he spun you around, pressing you face against the wall, his dick pressed on your ass. He leaned back to your ear as his hands traveled along your body. “Because you seem to forget you're only mine. Those,” his hand covered your breasts almost moaning at the sensation “They’re only mine,” with his fingers he unzipped the dress, making it fall ruinously to the floor and leaving you exposed to him, only panties to cover your body. He kneeled behind you, leaving a wet kiss on your ass biting and leaving a mark on it. “This is mine.”

He stood up after squeezing your ass with his fingers again, making you wet like never before. “You're so fucking beautiful,” he bit your shoulder as he circled your throat, tilting your head back and exposing your neck again which he wasted no time sucking and kissing it, leaving numerous marks. “And so fucking mine,” he whispered in your ear again “All mine.”

You could no longer form a single coherent thought, your mind too foggy as his hands touched you everywhere and leaving you wanting more.

“Do I need to remind you who can make you lose your mind without even touching you?” His fingers caressed the hem of your panties, torturing you. “Do I need to remind you who you're rubbing against now silently begging to get fucked in a fucking bathroom?”.

“Jay please,” you managed to mutter.

“No, you don't get to say please now,” he replied “Not so big anymore huh baby?”. Without warning he slipped his hand into your panties while the other covered your mouth as a moan escaped your lips. “Do I need to remind who you're so wet for now?”.

Your eyes narrowed in pleasure as you moaned against his hand, his fingers skillfully touching you and making circular motions over your swollen, throbbing clit. God, it was so intense you were afraid your knees would give out sooner or later.

“Shh, you don't want anyone to hear us don't you?” he said when despite the hand on your mouth your moans came out muffled. You reached up behind you, stroking his hard dick, earning you a grunt that reached your throbbing core. “So fucking dirty,” he breathed out with a small smirk on his lips.

Two knocks on the door made you jump and your breath stopped for an instant. Jay, on the other hand, didn't seem to be fazed and kept touching you, inserting a finger inside you and you whimpered, feeling the orgasm already getting closer and closer.

You were so afraid the door was going to open and someone would see you almost naked as Jay had his hand inside your panties, but the pleasure he was giving you was so fucking good you couldn’t care about anything or anyone beside him. It was a long, long time since he touched you and it was almost embarrassing the speed with which you were already almost at the limit.

“Shh… Do you want to come baby? Do you think you deserve it?” he whispered, noting the shadows in front of the door were gone. You nodded vehemently, but at that precise moment he stopped, removing his hand from your mouth. “Too bad. Open your mouth,” with embarrassing speed you did what he told you and the finger that was inside you until recently was now in your mouth as you sucked it and tasted yourself “Good girl.” This simple phrase almost made you faint.

Before you knew what was happening, Jay spun you back towards him and his hands were on your face, his lips pressed against yours. He kissed you until your breath was taken away as his tongue explored every corner of your mouth. It was a sloppy and hungry kiss, almost pornographic, hands in the hair, hands wandering everywhere and pulling off clothes.

“I want you so bad,” you panted as your frantic fingers unbuttoned his pants which fell along with his boxers rolling around his ankles.

“Fuck,” he moaned under his breath as your hand circled his dick and your thumb stroked his pink, throbbing tip, wet with seminal fluid. But he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away and you looked at him with a confused expression. “You don't get to touch me now,” he said and spun you back to the wall.

He was turning you, tossing you around, using you like a doll for only his liking and you had nothing against it, you were so excited you’d make him do whatever he wanted to you.

“Jay please, I'm so horny please… Touch me,” you literally begged, not caring how ridiculous you sounded. He placed his hands on your hips, slipping off your panties and making them fall to the floor along with your dress, leaving you completely naked at his mercy.

Jay was quivering, he couldn't take it anymore, and as you continued to press your ass against his rock hard dick. “Such a needy little whore, do you want me to fuck you in here? In this bathroom?”.

“Yes, fuck, yes.”

He had you positioned in front of the sink and only then you realized how awful you looked, the way your cheeks were flushed, your hair messy, your lips swollen.

He was so breathtaking it almost hurt. How could be someone be so beautiful? So imperfectly perfect?

“Look at you,” he whispered returning your gaze through the mirror. His hands began to touch your breasts as his fingers pinched your hard nipples, “Look how gorgeous you are,” he bit your shoulder. Without warning he penetrated you from behind, making both of you let out a moan you were sure the whole restaurant had heard.

“Shh,” he breathed into your ear “Or I'll stop. Fuck, baby you feel so fucking good.”

He started moving in and, damn it, he was going so hard, you knew when you were done you weren't going to be able to walk straight. The bathroom reverberated with the sounds of your skins touching each other after every thrust, of your muffled moans, sighs.

His hand went around your throat, forcing you to tilt your head back again as his lips bit, sucked and his tongue licked your skin, making sure to leave as many marks as possible.

He knew he was acting like an animal, like a caveman but he didn't fucking care. He wanted everyone to know you were his only, that it was only him that made you bend over a sink like that making you drip on his dick while he fucked you in a filthy bathroom.

You bit your lip trying not to moan but it was so fucking good, so intense, so carnal, you couldn't help yourself. Jay returned his eyes to you through the mirror and as his dick slipped in and out of you with ease, the vision of you being ruined like that drove him crazy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned and how sexy it was to hear him moan like that in your ear. Your hands stayed on the sink, trying to find support as the force of his thrusts made you go forward.

“Oh yeah, just like that…” you moaned, louder than you ever meant to and he tightened his fingers lightly around your throat. “Shut up or I'll stop, do you understand me?”.

You nodded. “Holy shit Jay,” you muttered, biting your lip again. You felt out of breath, every muscle in your body was jelly and you thought you couldn't make it.

The way he was fucking you, God, he was angry, it was determined, strong and so intense it almost hurt. But you wanted it all, you wanted his dick inside you and fucking you so hard he made all your thoughts go away, you wanted him to come inside you, you wanted to feel him so deeply inside you that you couldn't sit still for the next days, you wanted him to mark you, his lips and his calloused hands all over your body. You were his. Soul and body, hopelessly, irrevocably and forever his.

The hand that was around your throat ended up around your hair, which he pulled back into a messy ponytail, pulling it. “All mine,” he moaned, now on the verge of bursting as he felt his orgasm building up “All fucking mine.”

Your fingers gripped the edge of the sink even harder, your eyes watering with tears. His thrusts were almost even stronger, his dick managed to hit that point inside you that always left you craving for more and you couldn't resist anymore. He was animalistic, passionate, possessive and god if you loved it.

“I-I can't...” you stammered. He pulled your hair making you lift your head and leaned slightly towards you, leaving a sweet kiss on your cheek, in stark contrast with the roughness he was fucking you.

“Of course you can,” he whispered letting out a moan “Oh god I’m so close baby… This pussy feels so fucking good I can’t resist anymore…”

From the way your wet pussy was clenching around his dick he knew you were close too but he was already coming. His cum poured inside you in an intense, blinding orgasm, filling you up to the last drop.

He was breathing heavily, his heart pounding and it took him a second to come back to reality and remember that you were still under him, still needing an orgasm.

“You were such a good girl,” he whispered into your ear as his fingers touched your clit, “My baby deserves to come.”

“Oh Jay…” and his name sounded like melody in his ears“Yes, yes, fuck, yes. I want to come so bad…”

His hand grabbed your face turning your head to the side and pressing his mouth to yours. It was a messy kiss, interrupted by your moans which he completely swallowed.

Your orgasm was unexpected, sudden, almost paralyzing, making your vision blurry and your head dizzy. Your knees were about to give out and it was Jay who held you up, wrapping an arm around your hips and supporting you. “My beautiful, precious girl,” he kissed your cheeks and shoulders softly “Are you okay?”.

You let out a sigh. “Oh yes, God, it was so good,” he chuckled “But don't think this fixes everything,” you continued pointing a finger at him. “I never even thought about it.”

He helped you get dressed and you both tried to regain at least a normal look but, after looking in the mirror, you realized there was no way anyone was going to not understand what had happened in that bathroom. Your neck was covered by the hickeys he left, your hair was a complete mess, your legs where just jelly.

“Come home with me,” he whispered, grabbing your face, gently stroking your cheeks with his thumbs “Please. Y/N, I need you. I… I don’t want to spend another second without you.”

You looked into his eyes for a moment, your heart beating wildly. “But we need to seriously talk. I don't want to go back to same situation, Jay.”

He shook his head before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “No, no, it won't happen again and I will do everything in my power to make you forgive me. You’re the most important thing in my life Y/N, you are and you’ll always be my number one priority and I don’t want to ever make you feel like you weren’t again. I haven't been good at proving it lately but I swear, I love you to death baby and there's nothing I wouldn’t do for you, just…” he paused for a second, looking at you so intensely you almost wanted to cry “Just let me prove it to you.”

You nodded slightly, a small smile on your lips that quickly disappeared when someone started knocking on the door.

Well, this was about to get very embarrassing.

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[skz-streamer]

Sensitive S/o

Pairing: Skz x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Misunderstanding?

Warnings: Sensitivity? Slight crying, weights, frustration, small arguments...Im not really sure what to put here so lmk if I missed anything :)

Notes: ARGHHHH I HAD SUCH A HARD TIME TO COME UP W DIFF SCENARIOS SO IM SORRY IF ITS A LITTLE WORDYYY :((( Suchhh a cute ask though thank you lovely anon The Ask :)

Summary: Skz and their sensitive s/o

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

Full word count ~4.8k ;)

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

Chan:

"So, Y/N," Chan began with a cheeky grin, "did I ever tell you about the time I tried to cook dinner for the members?"

You chuckled, your heart fluttering at the familiar tone of his voice. "No, you haven't! Do tell."

Chan launched into a hilarious account of his culinary mishaps, imitating his fellow members' shocked expressions as they took their first bites of his concoction. You couldn't hold back your laughter, and your eyes sparkled with delight as you listened to his animated storytelling.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the two of you settled onto a park bench. The conversation flowed effortlessly, jumping from one topic to another. Chan's arm rested casually around your shoulders, and you leaned into his comforting presence. His jokes and lighthearted banter continued, wrapping you in a cocoon of happiness.

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Hey, Y/N, did you know that you're the only person who can keep up with my terrible puns?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully. "Oh please, Chan. Your puns are legendary. I just try my best to match the greatness."

He grinned a warm and affectionate smile that made your heart flutter. "Well, you succeed spectacularly"

As the conversation flowed, your heart felt light, and the world seemed to slow down around you. But just as the laughter and stories continued, there was a shift in the atmosphere. Chan's teasing took a slightly sharper edge, and a comment that was meant to be a joke struck a chord in you.

"Come on, Y/N, don't be such a crybaby," he teased lightly, not realizing the weight his words held for you.

Your smile faltered, and you felt a pang of hurt deep within. You knew he didn't mean any harm, but sometimes, even the lightest remarks could trigger a sensitive nerve. You tried to shake it off, forcing a chuckle as you replied, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Just can't handle the master of puns, that's all."

But Chan noticed the change in your demeanor, his keen eyes picking up on the shift in your tone. His expression softened as he realized his words had landed differently than intended. "Hey," he said gently, his voice a warm reassurance, "I didn't mean it like that, Y/N. You know I'm just messing around, right?"

You nodded, your throat tightening as you struggled to keep your emotions in check. You hated how easily certain comments could bring tears to your eyes, even when you knew they were meant in jest. But it was hard to shake off the sensitivity, a part of you that you sometimes wished you could control better.

"Hey," Chan's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped. "It's okay, really. I didn't mean to upset you."

Your lips quivered into a small smile as you looked into his eyes, grateful for his understanding. "I know, Chan. It's just…."

He sighed softly, pulling you into his embrace. "Y/N, you don't have to help it. Your feelings are valid. If something bothers you, it's okay to feel that way."

As his arms encircled you, a warm sense of comfort enveloped you. Chan's soothing words seeped into your heart, reminding you that you were allowed to feel whatever you felt. You leaned into his chest, tears wetting his shirt, and he held you tight.

"You're strong, you know," he murmured into your hair. "Being sensitive doesn't make you weak. It means you care deeply, and that's a beautiful thing."

You sniffled, laughing softly through your tears. "Leave it to you to make me feel better, even when I'm being silly."

Chan's fingers brushed gently against your back as he rubbed soothing circles. "I'll always be here for you, Y/N.”

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Lee Know: 

As the credits rolled on the screen, Lee Know let out a content sigh. "That was a good movie, huh?" he said, his voice a soothing rumble against your ear.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I enjoyed it. Thanks for picking it."

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "Anything for you, babe."

You felt a rush of warmth at his words. It was moments like these that made you appreciate how considerate and caring Lee Know was. He had always been attentive to your needs, and you cherished the way he understood you.

But just as the credits faded to black, your blissful moment was interrupted by a sudden noise from outside the window. It was a car alarm going off, and the loud blaring sound pierced through the tranquility of the room.

You winced at the sudden noise, and Lee Know tightened his grip around you, his protective instinct kicking in. "Ugh, that's so annoying," he muttered, annoyance evident in his tone.

You nodded in agreement, but something about the noise seemed to have unsettled you more than you anticipated. Your heart raced, and your eyes began to sting with unshed tears. You tried to shake off the feeling, reminding yourself that it was just a trivial noise and there was no reason to get upset.

Lee Know sensed the shift in your mood and looked down at you, concerned furrowing his brow. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked gently.

You sniffled, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just... the noise startled me, I guess."

He frowned, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that had escaped your eye. "You sure that's all it is?" he asked softly.

You nodded, avoiding his gaze. You knew your reaction was disproportionate to the situation, but you didn't want to burden him with your irrational emotions. You had always been sensitive, and sometimes it felt like a weakness.

Lee Know's eyes softened as he cupped your cheek, turning your face to meet his gaze. "You don't have to hide anything from me, you know," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "If something's bothering you, I want to know."

Your lips trembled, and you felt another tear slide down your cheek. "I know I shouldn't be this upset over a stupid noise," you admitted, your voice cracking. 

Lee Know's expression turned gentle, his thumb brushing away your tears. "Hey, it's okay to feel things deeply," he said softly. "That's just who you are, and there's nothing wrong with that. You're not weak for being sensitive, you're strong for embracing your emotions."

You sniffled, feeling a mix of vulnerability and relief wash over you. "But I feel like I'm burdening you with my emotions," you confessed, your voice barely audible.

He shook his head, his eyes unwaveringly locked onto yours. "You could never be a burden to me, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "I love every part of you, even the parts you might consider flaws. And I'm here to support you through everything, even the moments when you feel overwhelmed."

As he spoke, you felt a warmth envelop you, like a protective shield against your own insecurities. His words were a balm to your wounded heart, soothing the self-doubt that had been festering within you.

"I don't want you to ever feel like you have to hide your emotions from me," he continued his voice tenderly. "We're a team, and that means sharing both the good and the tough moments. So, if something's bothering you, let me in. I promise I'll always be here to listen and support you."

You nodded, tears still trickling down your cheeks but now with a sense of acceptance. Lee Know pulled you into a warm hug, his arms cocooning you in a sense of safety and understanding. He held you tightly, letting you know that he was there for you, no matter what.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Changbin: 

Amid the bustling gym, the clanking of weights and the steady rhythm of treadmills formed a backdrop to the scene. You were there with Changbin, trying your best to push through a particularly challenging exercise. The weights felt heavier than usual, and frustration began to bubble up within you as you struggled to complete the set.

Changbin, ever attentive to your emotions, noticed the change in your demeanor. He had a knack for picking up on your subtle cues, the way your brows furrowed just a bit more, and the determined set of your jaw turned into a slightly defeated slump. As you lowered the weights and sighed, he could sense that something was bothering you beyond just the physical challenge.

"Hey, you're doing great," he said gently, his voice a soothing presence amid your turmoil. "Remember, progress takes time. We all have our off days, and that's completely okay."

You managed a weak smile, appreciating his support even if it didn't entirely erase your frustration. "I know, but it's just frustrating. I used to be able to do this without any issues, and now..."

Changbin's hand found its way to yours, offering a reassuring squeeze. "It's natural for things to change over time. Our bodies adapt, and sometimes that means facing new challenges. But you're not alone in this. I'm here with you every step of the way."

As you attempted the exercise again, a combination of fatigue and your emotional sensitivity made your eyes prickle with tears. You couldn't help but feel frustrated with yourself for getting so worked up over something that seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things. But that was the thing about emotions—they didn't always follow a rational path.

Changbin noticed the glistening in your eyes and immediately put down the weight he was holding. He gently cupped your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears that escaped. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to be so hard on yourself. Your feelings are valid, whether they're about something big or small."

You sniffled, embarrassed by your vulnerability. "I know it's silly, but I can't help feeling like this."

Changbin's warm gaze never wavered, his fingers tenderly brushing against your skin. "You're not silly for feeling things. We all have moments when certain things hit us harder than they should. It's part of being human, and it's what makes you, well, you."

You appreciated his words, his understanding, and the fact that he didn't dismiss your emotions. It was something you loved about him—the way he allowed you to feel without judgment, even when you were grappling with feelings you didn't quite understand yourself.

Leaving the weights behind, Changbin led you to a quieter corner of the gym. He sat down with you, his arm draped over your shoulders as you leaned against him. "You know, sensitivity can be a strength too."

You sighed, feeling the tension slowly melt away as his comforting presence enveloped you. "I guess so. I just wish I could control it better."

Changbin pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "You're doing just fine, trust me. And if there's ever a time when something bothers you, all you need to do is tell me. I'm here to listen."

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Hyunjin: 

You and Hyunjin find yourselves in the midst of a painting session. The room is drenched in soft, natural light, casting a warm ambiance that should have fostered creativity and joy. Hyunjin is passionately absorbed in his work, brushstrokes gliding across the canvas with determination. You, however, struggle to bring your vision to life. Frustration simmers beneath your surface as you attempt to replicate the vibrant image in your mind.

You swipe the brush across the canvas, the result falling short of your expectations once again. A sigh escapes your lips, caught between the desire to excel and the feeling of inadequacy. Hyunjin glances over, noticing the shift in your demeanor. Concern creases on his features as he puts his brush down for a moment.

"Hey, everything okay?" he asks, his voice a mix of genuine curiosity and worry.

You look up, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm just having a bit of trouble getting it right."

Hyunjin steps closer, his gaze softened by understanding. "You know, it's not about getting it perfect on the first try. Sometimes you have to let go of expectations and let your instincts guide you."

As he speaks, you feel a mix of gratitude and frustration. You appreciate his attempt at encouragement, yet the weight of your self-criticism is hard to shake off. You nod, trying to absorb his advice.

But as time passes, your painting continues to deviate from your vision. With each misstep, your frustration mounts. Hyunjin, noticing your growing agitation, offers more guidance – albeit in a way that inadvertently fosters further frustration. His words come out more as critiques than suggestions, and before you know it, your patience snaps.

"Why can't you just let me figure this out on my own?" you burst out, the words carrying a tinge of hurt that takes Hyunjin by surprise.

He freezes the brush still in his hand. "What? I'm just trying to help."

"I know, but it feels like you're just criticizing everything I do!" Your voice wavers, anger and hurt tangling in your chest.

Hyunjin's frustration is palpable, too. "I'm not criticizing. I'm just trying to guide you towards improvement."

"Well, maybe I don't need your constant guidance!" Your voice quivers, the sting of your sensitivity gnawing at you. You hadn't meant for your emotions to escalate so quickly, but here you were – caught in a one-sided argument, tears pooling in your eyes.

Hyunjin's features shift from frustration to confusion as he registers your tears. "Hey, why are you getting so upset?"

Your gaze drops to the floor, shame mingling with your tears. "I don't know, okay? I shouldn't be reacting like this, but I am."

Hyunjin's expression softens as he takes in your vulnerable state. He realizes that this isn't just about the painting; it's about something deeper – a sensitivity that you both know you possess. He lowers his brush, stepping closer to you.

"I didn't mean to make you feel this way," he says, his voice gentler now. "I forget sometimes that not everyone responds well to the way I communicate."

You sniffle, wiping away a tear. "It's not just you. It's me too. I know I shouldn't let things like this affect me so much, but I can't help it."

Hyunjin sighs, his gaze sincere. "You know, sensitivity isn't a weakness. It's just a part of who you are. And I should've been more considerate."

Your eyes meet, a mixture of emotions passing between you. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," you mumble.

Hyunjin places a hand on your shoulder, a warm smile forming. "It's alright. We both have our moments. Let's just take a breather and come back to this later, okay?"

You settle on the couch, the unfinished canvas a silent reminder of your earlier frustrations. Hyunjin wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. "You know, I admire your sensitivity. It means you care deeply about things, and that's a beautiful trait."

You lean into his embrace, finding comfort in his words. "Even when it leads to moments like this?"

He chuckles softly. "Especially then. We're both a work in progress, learning how to navigate each other's emotions."

You smile through the lingering tears, feeling a weight lifting off your shoulders. "I'm lucky to have you."

Hyunjin presses a kiss on your temple. "And I'm lucky to have you. We'll figure this out together, one painting stroke at a time."

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Jisung:

You and Jisung are having a fun-filled game night at your apartment. The coffee table is covered with an array of board games and card decks, and laughter fills the air as you and Jisung engage in friendly competition. It's supposed to be a lighthearted evening, a chance to unwind and enjoy each other's company.

As the game progresses, Jisung's playfully competitive side shines through. He throws out witty comments and playful jabs as he wins rounds and makes strategic moves. His remarks have you laughing alongside him, but one comment catches you off guard and hits a nerve.

"Wow, you're not having a good luck streak tonight," he teases, a grin on his face.

You force a chuckle, but the comment stings more than you'd like to admit. You've been feeling emotionally sensitive lately, and the comment, while meant in jest, resonates with your current state of mind. You glance down at the game board, your enthusiasm waning slightly.

Jisung notices the shift in your demeanor, his expression softening with concern. "Hey, are you alright? I was just joking."

You offer a small smile, "Yeah, I know. Just got lost in thought for a second."

He nods, but his gaze lingers on you for a moment before returning to the game. Despite his attempt to move on, you find yourself feeling more affected by his comment than you expected.

You try to push aside the sensitive emotions that have been triggered. You focus on the games, engaging in the banter and laughter just as you always do. But in the back of your mind, that comment lingers, creating a subtle discomfort.

As you play another round, you notice that your thoughts are a bit scattered. You make a strategic move, but it doesn't quite go as planned. Jisung's playful teasing takes on a different tone in your ears, reminding you of the earlier comment.

"Ouch, looks like you're having an off night," he remarks, a grin on his face.

You glance at him, forcing a smile, but inside, you feel a pang of sensitivity. You didn't want his comments to affect you so much, but here you are, struggling to shake off the emotions they've stirred.

As the game night continues, you feel the weight of your sensitivity growing. You try to brush off the discomfort, but it's becoming increasingly challenging. You want to enjoy the evening and the company, but the comment has struck a chord you can't ignore.

Eventually, you decide that a break is in order. You put on a smile, hoping to hide your feelings and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You get up from the table and make your way to the restroom, closing the door behind you with a sigh.

Inside the bathroom, you lean against the sink, trying to gather your thoughts. The emotions you've been suppressing finally spill over, and you find yourself sniffling softly. You hadn't anticipated that a lighthearted comment during game night would trigger such a strong reaction.

Outside the bathroom, Jisung's concern hasn't faded. He knows you well enough to sense when something's wrong, even if you try to hide it. After a few minutes, he decides to check up on you. He approaches the bathroom door, his hand gently resting against the wood.

"Hey, is everything okay in there?" he asks softly.

You take a moment to compose yourself, wiping away your tears. "Yeah, I just needed a moment."

He doesn't sound convinced, and you hear a soft sigh from the other side of the door. "You know you can talk to me, right? If something's bothering you?"

His words resonate, and you realize that he genuinely cares. The vulnerability you'd been trying to suppress feels overwhelming at this moment. With a shaky breath, you open the bathroom door, revealing your slightly teary-eyed state.

Jisung's concern deepens as he takes in your appearance. Without hesitation, he pulls you into a comforting hug. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to pretend with me."

Tears escape despite your efforts to hold them back, and you bury your face in his shoulder. Jisung holds you close, his touch a soothing balm for your frayed emotions.

"I'm sorry," you manage to whisper, your voice shaky.

Jisung pulls back slightly, his fingers gently wiping away your tears. "Don't be sorry. It's okay to feel how you feel."

You take a deep breath, the weight of your sensitivity slowly easing as he offers his understanding and comfort. "It's just that... your comment earlier, hit me harder than I thought."

Jisung's expression shifts from concern to realization. "Wait, the thing I said during the game?"

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and vulnerability in sharing your feelings with him.

He lets out a sigh, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to"

You offer a small smile, touched by his genuine concern. "I know you didn't mean it that way"

Jisung's gaze softens as he holds you close. "You don't have to go through this alone, you know? I'm here for you, always."

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Felix:

 You and Felix are spending an afternoon together, exploring a bustling shopping district. The sun shines overhead, casting a warm glow on the streets as you stroll hand in hand, occasionally stopping to peek into storefronts that catch your interest. It's meant to be a carefree outing, a chance to enjoy each other's company and the city's charm.

As you walk, a group of girls pass by, casting a quick glance in your direction before bursting into laughter. Your heart sinks as you catch the tail end of their mocking glances. You feel exposed as if their laughter is directed at you, even though you can't be entirely sure. You clasp Felix's hand a bit tighter, a mix of discomfort and embarrassment pooling within you.

Felix continues chatting about something he spotted at a nearby store, seemingly oblivious to the brief encounter. He's always been the kind of person who radiates positivity and doesn't let minor things affect his mood. You don't want to ruin the day with your sensitivity, so you offer a small smile and nod as he speaks.

As you browse through a store, Felix's genuine concern hasn't waned. He can sense that something is off, even though you're trying your best to hide it. He decides to address the issue and approaches you, his voice gentle.

"Is everything alright?" he asks softly.

You hesitate for a moment before admitting, "Honestly, something kind of bothered me earlier."

Felix's expression shifts from curiosity to attentive concern. "What happened?"

You take a deep breath, summoning the courage to share. "When we were walking, I noticed a group of girls looking at me and laughing. I don't know why, but it made me feel self-conscious."

Felix reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're a wonderful person, and those girls' opinions don't matter. If anything, their behavior says more about them than it does about you."

"Felix," you begin, your voice soft but resolute. "There's something I want to tell you."

He shifts slightly, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering attention. "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, you find the courage to speak your truth. "I love you."

Felix's eyes widen ever so slightly, his expression a mix of surprise and tenderness. The moment hangs suspended between you, a pause filled with emotion.

Then, a heartwarming smile spreads across Felix's face, his gaze never leaving yours. "I love you too, more than words could express."

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Seungmin:

You and Seungmin have always had a strong bond, but like any couple, disagreements are a natural part of your relationship. One evening, a difference in opinions leads to a heated argument that tests both your emotions and your sensitivity.

The topic at hand is trivial, something that wouldn't usually escalate into a conflict. But somehow, the conversation has spiraled into a full-blown disagreement, each of you holding your ground with growing frustration. As words are exchanged, your sensitivity to certain tones and remarks heightens the intensity of the argument.

"Can't you just see it from my perspective for once?" Seungmin exclaims, his voice tinged with exasperation.

You feel your heart clench, the sharpness of his tone cutting deeper than he intended. Your sensitivity to emotional nuances has always been a double-edged sword, allowing you to connect deeply with others but also making you more susceptible to feeling hurt.

"I am trying to see your perspective," you reply, your voice strained. "But that doesn't mean my feelings don't matter."

Seungmin's expression shifts, a mixture of frustration and regret flickering in his eyes. "I didn't mean to dismiss your feelings."

As the argument reaches a temporary impasse, you struggle to rein in your emotions. The sensitivity that runs through your veins makes it difficult to shake off the lingering hurt caused by the heated exchange.

Seungmin's brow furrows as he takes in your expression, his frustration fading into concern. He realizes that the argument has taken an emotional toll on you, and the realization dawns that his words have impacted you in a way he hadn't anticipated.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, his voice softer now.

You struggle to hold back tears, your emotions bubbling over. "It's just... sometimes the way we argue... it gets to me."

Seungmin's gaze softens as he comprehends the depth of your sensitivity. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."

Seungmin takes a step closer, his eyes unwavering. "We'll work through this together, okay? I'll be more mindful of your sensitivity, and you'll let me know when things get tough."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, touched by his willingness to bridge the gap. "Deal."

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Jeongin:

You and Jeongin find yourselves on a quiet rooftop, the city lights below casting a soft glow against the night sky. The stars twinkle above, and a sense of tranquility settles over the two of you. Stargazing has always been a cherished activity for you – a time to reflect, share thoughts, and simply enjoy each other's company.

Tonight, however, there's an underlying weight tugging at your heart. Lately, you've been feeling emotionally sensitive, and specific comments and situations are affecting you more than they should. You had hoped that tonight's stargazing would provide a moment of solace, a chance to open up to Jeongin about your feelings.

As the two of you lie on a blanket, gazing up at the constellations, you feel a mixture of contentment and apprehension. You decide to seize the moment and express what's been on your mind.

"Jeongin," you begin softly, "sometimes, I get a little more affected by things than I let on."

He turns to you, his eyes curious. "What do you mean?"

You take a deep breath, trying to put your feelings into words. "Well, like when certain things are said a certain way, or when I'm feeling overwhelmed, it gets to me even if I try not to show it."

Jeongin nods, but his expression doesn't change much. "I get it. We all have our moments, right?"

You feel a pang of disappointment – it's as if he didn't quite grasp the depth of what you were trying to convey. Nonetheless, you press on, hoping he'll understand better with a bit more explanation.

"Yeah, but sometimes it feels like the sensitivity is a bit too much. Like, I wish I could just brush things off, but I end up overthinking."

He offers a sympathetic smile. "It's okay, you know? You're allowed to feel how you feel."

His words are reassuring, yet you had hoped for a deeper connection, a moment of shared vulnerability. You let out a soft sigh, the stars above seemingly reflecting the emotions swirling within you.

As the night progresses, you both continue to share stories, laughter, and quiet moments of contemplation. It's a beautiful night, but there's a part of you that longs for a more profound understanding from Jeongin.

The conversation turns to dreams, aspirations, and fears. You listen intently as he speaks about his hopes for the future, his determination to succeed, and his worries about letting people down. He talks animatedly, completely immersed in the conversation.

You seize the opportunity to dive a bit deeper. "You know, Jeongin, I've been feeling a bit lost lately too. Like, I'm not sure where I'm headed."

He grins, nudging your shoulder playfully. "Don't worry, you'll figure it out. You're amazing at whatever you do."

You smile back, but a part of you aches. It's as if your words were merely skimmed over, not fully comprehended. You had hoped that sharing your uncertainties would spark a more profound exchange.

He yawns and stretches, a contented smile on his face. "Tonight was nice, huh?"

You nod, feeling a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, it was."

As he gathers the blanket and begins to pack up, he glances at you, his gaze lingering for a moment. "You okay?"

You hesitate, then decide to voice what's been on your mind. "Honestly, I wish sometimes you could pick up on the things I don't say. Like, understand when I'm struggling even if I'm smiling."

Jeongin's expression shifts from confusion to realization. "Wait, are you saying… you've been feeling more sensitive lately?"

You nod, relieved that he's finally connecting the dots.

He lets out a sigh, his features softened by understanding. "I'm sorry if I missed that. I guess I assumed you were always strong, that you didn't need anyone to worry about you."

You let out a chuckle, a mix of amusement and fondness. "Well, even strong people have their moments."

Jeongin's hand finds yours, his grip gentle and reassuring. "I promise, from now on, I'll pay more attention. I want you to know that you can always talk to me."

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[callsign-jinx]

First Daughter | Ch. 1 : White House's princess

Pairing: Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x fem!pilot reader (Call sign: Hawk. Reader's surname is Miller but she is adopted.)

Wordcount: 1.9k

Tags: enemies to lovers, crack, angst, fluff and more tags to be add in every chapter.

A/N: i can't believe i'm here again after all this time but IT IS HAPPENNING. I really am surprised by myself, really. Anyway, before you start reading, i recommend you to see the Ohana Squad Moodbards as these are the girls that will accompany Hawk (y/n) during out story. More information about them will be revealed in the next chapters. Enjoy it!

Masterlist

Mrs. and Mr. Miller of number 1600, Pennsylvania Avenue, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. 

Well, as normal as Mrs. President of the United States and her husband could be. Joanne Miller has been President of the United States for the last two years. To say it had been a walk in the park would be a blatant lie. You don’t make history by being liked, however. And Jo had made history, earning the title of the first female president. 

It not only meant a big entry for the history books; it also meant a whole new world of possibilities for any young girl who dreamed of being president. It had only been a dream for years, but now? It was a possibility. 

Mrs. President and her husband, Frederick Miller, had four children, and everyone was waiting to see if Jo and Freddy's daughters would follow in their mother's footsteps. Lisa, the older sibling, was too preoccupied with her Hollywood career to consider a political career. That wasn’t for her. Keeya, the youngest, was now in her third year of college, and her dream of becoming a judge was more significant for the young Miller than becoming a politician. That wasn’t for her, either. 

And then there was Y/n. She was the middle daughter, always in the middle, even though Keeya had a twin brother, Keith. Keith was also studying law, but while Keeya was following her dreams at Harvard, Keith had chosen Yale as his dream college. It was the first time the twins didn’t follow the same path, and it still saddened them a bit. Keith thought that it was a good opportunity to prove to himself that he didn’t need to be around his sister to succeed. He could do it on his own. 

But this story isn’t about Lisa, Keeya or Keith. It’s about Y/n, or how everyone called her, Hawk. Hawk Miller, a Navy pilot, a girl who had been raised to fight the world’s evilness while sitting in a chair but decided to fight for a better tomorrow, sat on an F-18. 

Hawk Miller, who walked down the halls of the Top Gun Academy after receiving an invite with the girls of her squad. Ohana Squad, they called themselves. A family. Walking behind her were Hollie, also known as Bean, and Ari, whose callsign was Dragon. The two other pilots of her squad. Bean stood out with her golden locks, and Ari’s hazel eyes had a lot of pilots swooning over her. They were like the protective mothers of the group.

In front of her, the wizzos walked, talking excitedly and almost jumping around. Katie, callsign Duchess, the redhead goddess with the warmest smile and the kindest soul, and Shay, callsign Nova, whose quiet personality made her look like a cold person, but she was just a big ball of shyness and cuteness with a strong will and the best aim the Navy had ever seen. 

It was a curious group, but Hawk would never change them. Not even for a second. 

“I still can’t believe that we’re here." Dragon’s eyes traced the whole place, completely in awe. She was admiring the academy, taking in her surroundings, and appreciating the amount of history hanging from the walls. 

“Believe it, girl. We’re the best squad around!” Duchess said, raising her hand to get a high five from Hawk, who was oddly quiet. “Honey, are you okay?” 

But she didn’t answer. 

“Hawk?” 

“Oh! Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. Were you saying something?” 

All the girls laughed a bit after noticing her friend’s nervousness. “Come on, Hawk. It’ll be okay. Just breathe in and out.” 

And even though Bean’s advice would have been really helpful, Hawk’s mind was already creating the worst scenarios. Most of them were different, but all of them had something in common: someone looked down on her just because she was the president’s daughter. 

It wasn’t uncommon to hear somebody claim that Hawk's Navy accomplishments were solely due to her being Joanne Miller's daughter. In fact, this treatment didn’t start at the Navy. Her mother had been a politician her entire life, and people assumed Hawk's good grades, scholarships, debate club trophies, and other accomplishments were given to her in order to appease her mother. Or that they were afraid of her. 

She was used to it. She knew people thought of her as a nepo baby. That she was given anything she desired. Reality, however, was completely different. 

And a small part of her was terrified that people would think her being at Top Gun was just a favor from some high-ranking official to her mother. Hawk Miller had fought really hard to prove everyone and herself she was a good pilot. One of the bests of her generation. She deserved to be there, as much as her friends. 

Nobody could tell her otherwise. 

Or so she thought. 

Walking into the classroom was unsettling. While Hawk thought that her very first day at the Navy academy was hard, that day at Top Gun proved it wrong. She was among the best. She wasn't special anymore, she was just like the rest. It was a comforting feeling to not stand out for once in her life.

“Hey, isn't that Lieutenant Commander Trace?” Ari asked while Hawk sat down next to her. Both pilots were looking at the Lieutenant in question, who was laughing with a man with blonde hair and glasses while observing the newbies taking seats. 

Katie gasped loudly. “Oh my gosh, it is!” 

Bean, who sat behind them both, leaned closer to the other girls, whispering too. “Girls, that means the Dagger Squad is in charge of instruction.”

The five girls looked at each other, shock and excitement written all over their faces in equal parts. “At last someone that knows more than me,” Hawk joked while sitting straight once Trace started calling everyone's attention. 

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Lieutenant Commander Trace, also known as Phoenix, and for the next five weeks, you're going to be under my care. Whether that means something good or bad is up to you.” 

A few other pilots entered the class, earning a glare from Commander Trace before they stood next to the blonde with glasses.

“You came here because you are the best. Or so you think.” She came to a halt in the classroom, next to Hawk and her girls, and looked down. “Right now, I am the best pilot in this class, apart from your other instructors standing there, and none of you have what it takes to beat me or them.” 

At the first rows of the class, a pair of male pilots snorted at Phoenix’s statement. The blonde guy with glasses stands in front of them, arms crossed over his chest, while the other one walked dangerously slowly towards them. He had a moustache and curly hair and a face that showed those two idiotic aviators had struck a nerve.

“Got a problem with your Commander, guys?” 

While one of them lowered his eyes and apologized, the other rose from his seat and looked at the man in glasses. “I’m just guessing this is some kind of prank to spread Joanne Miller’s gender equality agenda now that her daughter is among us. But you know what? I have enough of it already while having to deal with a nepo baby, I don’t want a woman to try and teach me what I already know.” 

It only took a second for one of the other instructors, a tall black man, to grab the moron by the collar and kick him out of the classroom. Hawk attempted to grab Ari's arm to keep her from going after that idiot, but failed. She dashed out of the classroom, Phoenix trailing behind her, while Hawk turned around and took a deep breath before looking at her friends. “Let’s go get her before she gets herself kicked out.” 

They could hear Ari’s voice from inside. She was the loud one in the group. “C’mere, big boy! Let a woman teach you a lesson. That ‘nepo baby’ is ten times better than your sorry ass!” 

Phoenix laughed a bit and popped her head inside the class, looking for one of her fellow instructors. “Hey, Hangman. I think I found one of your new students!”

And while the pilot called Hangman laughed himself and exited the class to get the girl who was now swearing in Spanish, Hawk realized every single other pilot or wizzo was either staring at her, taking a picture with their phones or gossiping in quiet whispers. 

All eyes were focused on her once again. 

Her worst scenario came true right in front of her. 

So the rumours were true. Y/N Miller was actually Joanne Miller’s daughter. The president’s daughter. Mickey didn’t like nepotism. He had his fair share of piltos who were there just because their parents were famous pilots or politicians. Experience had taught him that nepo babies only meant trouble. 

And the first daughter wouldn’t mean less. 

By the time Nat had finished giving her speech, Fanboy was sure of two things. First, Hawk Miller and her friends would be the center of all the disturbances during the next five weeks. And the second was that it didn’t matter her surname or her mother’s job; it didn’t matter that, in a way, Hawk’s mother was Mickey’s boss. He wasn’t going to give her a special treatment.

Hawk Miller was just another student. Five weeks, and she’d be gone. 

"Mickey, if you keep staring at her like that, she’s gonna notice your little crush on her.” Javy’s joke pulled Fanboy out of his thoughts, earning the pilot a glare from the wizzo. “Oh, boy, if looks could kill, Jake would have killed me long ago so don’t even bother.” 

“Not funny, Machado.” 

Javy’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “Surnames? Really? Buddy, we’ve been to hell and back; we don’t do surnames anymore. What’s going on?” 

Mickey leaned against the wall, watching as Hawk Miller was surrounded by pilots and wizzos who asked her for pictures or autographs, like she was some kind of celebrity. It made his skin crawl. “She’s just here because of her mother.” 

“Come on, Miguel. You don’t really think that.” 

The wizzo retrieved from his bag a folder. Hawk’s file. “Have you read this? She’s not that great. She hasn’t done anything outstanding, either. Why’s she here?” 

Payback, who had been listening subtly to the conversation, approached his two friends, placing his hands on their shoulders. “You know, when Bob was called here, he didn’t have exactly an outstanding story. And he was with us on that suicide mission.” 

“And now is in charge of the WSO side of the program. He was good. Someone saw potential.” Javy adds, nodding at Payback’s words. 

For a moment, it looked like their words were going to convince Mickey, to actually get rid of that uneasy feeling that the wizzo had been feeling since the day he heard the rumours of the president’s daughter being a student at Top Gun. 

But when President Joanne Miller herself appeared inside his class ten seconds later, he realized that he was right. He had to trust his hunch. 

Hawk Miller not only meant trouble. 

She was a walking disaster. 

@purplevortexx

@novastories

@daughterofautumn

[moonsaver]

Moon, I've come back. Have you noticed how the wings in Sunday's suit are significantly darker in comparison to the wings on his neck or just his hair colour in general? Turning into a dark and deep purple?

Now, this MIGHT be a stretch, but the angel who has purple wings is Archangel Zadkiel, who is the angel of mercy. The angel colour purple means mercy and transformation. It tells you that you should be gentle with yourself as your journey shifts and changes. Does this mean that his own body is trying to tell himself that he should stop his self-destructive tendencies and to stop shouldering such a big burden? But he can't, and won't listen. He's too far gone, and the thought of giving up his goal, his ideals, his desire, is far worse than being a selfish man. However, doesn't that also make him selfish?

Outside of religious references, though, the colour purple, especially those of darker shades, represents sadness and frustration. I can only imagine the feeling of utter disappointment and frustration within Sunday after failing at the one thing he wanted to succeed in the most.

i feel like im missing something...

gGGhgqgw I'm going crazy for this man. Sunday angst.. save me.... Sunday angst, save me...

Anon u uave no idea, i read this and kept restlessly pacing back and forth while waiting for my phone to charge up.

This is.. SO SO TRAGIC??

Theres many theories out there that suggest he's a fallen angel. There's also the fact that his wings are literally purple. Anyways,,,

Him being related to the color purple and his wings also, meaning mercy and transformation fit so well eith his character. His "mercy" is one where he imagines an ordered utopia and a life long perfect dream for everyone who struggles with the grapples of reality. His transformation is one where he comes to accept his philosophies are pessimistic and neither as ideal as robin's romantic perspective. But in a way, his mercy is tainted. He doesnt extend this to himself, and how benevolent is a mercy that is conditional?

And the suggestion that his body may be taking the brunt of his self-destruction thereby influencing the color of his wings.. his mind is restless but so is his body.. the body keeps the score indeed.

I feel like this is also loosely able to prove the prediction he may join the stellaron hunters,,, taking a complete transformation as compared to his strict, orderly countenance in regards to his position as the Head of the Oak family.. oh wow.

Also, side note, stellaron hunter!Sunday would be terrifying. I imagine he still tries maintaining a pristine condition and generally grooms himself well, but the image of his white clothing having splatters of blood as he returns from his scripted mission.. WOW...

Anon im so sorry i cant add more to this, im not a theory girly in general, but this is such good infodump...... GOOD GODi love this please thank you so much anon <33

[riizewrtr]

HI WELCOME!! always so excited to find new writers 💌💌 can i request a riize being insecure because they think their so deserves someone better. write it however you please. fluff, angst, suggestive all up to you!! 🤭🎀

thank you so much omggg, thank you so much for welcoming me so warmly! i hope you like what i've written <3!! i wasn't sure if this is exactly what you mean, but i hope it'll be okay!

content: fluff/angst

Shotaro taro is the type who's very hard on himself, and i can see himself actually second guessing on dating you because he thinks you deserve someone better. his schedule never aligns with yours, and he feels sorry that he cannot take you on dates, go out in public etc with you.

"what's the point of being with me if we have to stay inside?" shotaro would sigh before placing his head in his hands. the room was really quiet, seems to be enough to hear your heartbeat.

"why would you think i care about those things? you know i love you for YOU.." your voice cracked, stressed that you can't help shotaro stop feeling the way he's feeling. but you guys will end up working it out in the end!

the rest is under the cut!

Eunseok seems like a cold person who doesn't take these things extremely serious. But when he noticed you always stressing and complaining how fans were still upset about the announcement of the relationship(which was announced almost 1 year ago mind you!), eunseok couldn't help but feel overwhelmed and upset that you're still with him. The hate that you've gotten he feels like it is HIS fault, even though feelings just happened. He starts thinking that you deserve someone better and worth your time.

"i really don't think i'm good enough for you... you know the fans are really protective of me, and the hate you're getting? this is NOT okay. i really did not want you to deal with that, babe."

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Sungchan would seem the calmest out of everyone. He would be the type to keep it to himself thinking that he isn't good enough for you. But you start to notice how he started texting you less and less. His replies seem almost a bit dry. It would turn into a fight if you pushed on and on, when he finally tells you what's on his mind.

"I'm not good enough for you! I work all the time, I'm always gone. Does it not bother you that I have girls screaming and dreaming over me? You truly deserve someone who can give you the world."

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Wonbin stays in his head, every thought, emotion, insecurity is in his head whenever he is with you. The pain, stress, anger has built up overtime. Even if dating for a while now, he can't help but think if he's actually good for you? Isn't it a bit toxic that you fight more than love? He thinks "does she know? i hate myself? i hate that i feel like i don't make her happy.."

"maybe we should break up... i'm not good for you, and i never will be unless i leave this lifestyle.. but you know i can't..."

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Seunghan will be very vocal with how he feels. i feel like you would be able to work it out with him, but he still cannot help but feel insecure in the relationship even after the serious talk y'all had. what good is the relationship if he can't even trust himself to make you happy or to satisfy your needs. being affectionate in the dorm isn't even enough for HIM, he wanted to show you off to the world knowing how knetz will react.

"i hate that i can't show you off to the world, you are MY world. it's so hard finding dry land when it comes to you. i hate myself that i cannot succeed in making you fully happy and on top of the world..

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Sohee would be extremely shy to bring up his insecurities, but thankfully it's something you overheard when sohee was confiding in one of his members. It actually hurt you to know he didn't trust himself to come to you about his worries and problems. Especially for something so serious. You began thinking if he was going to break up with you. But when the conversation did come up, you refused to break up. you loved him too much.

"Sohee, I love you. I'm just happy to be WITH you. You don't need to think that I deserve someone else, because that's not what I want!"

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Anton wouldn't bring up the insecurities at all, infact he would try to avoid it at all costs. The only way you found out that he didn't think he was good enough for you was because you were on his phone playing one of his games he had showed you, and a message popped up and you had accdiently pressed it. Anton and Wonbin were talking about you and Anton, he said he didn't think he deserved you and that you'd be better off dating someone "normal"

"Y/N I didn't mean for you to see it that way.. I just didn't know or how to bring it up.. Please don't be mad.."

[latenuitrambles]

𝕭𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 ( lyney x reader angst )

Note: so since the request only said angst I decided to go with angst no for comfort ( not sorry tehe) some minor spoilers for the first Fountaine archon quest if you haven't completed it yet ! As always criticism appreciated!

Requested by @heartsbyvalentina

thanks a lot <3 I'm sorry if this isn't what you exactly had in mind or if you wanted more angst with a happy ending T-T

TW: neglect, drifting apart, hurt no comfort, lyney is fatui because I love how much there is to explore with that. Not proofread :( so might be grammatical errors.

Your POV

The past few weeks had been tough. These days it seemed like lyney just didn’t have time for you at all. You had always known about his …..work. The one he didn’t talk about in public. He had told you when he confessed to you because he didn’t want your relationship to be founded on a lie. And you had understood. You were ok with the fact that he might sometimes not have time for you because you knew he did it all with good intentions. But these days it had become worse. Between his missions that had seemed to increase in quantity and his preparations for his show at the Opera, you couldn’t even catch a glimpse of his face properly. Lyney was up before you and returned long after you had fallen asleep. No more dates, no more him having silly magic shows just for you, even the way he talked to you seemed distant these days. You had tried to talk to him but he was always in a rush and put it off. Today, you decided you were finally going to confront him. 

It was way past 3 in the night when you heard the bedroom door creek open. Lyney entered and he was shocked to find you awake. “Why didn’t you fall asleep dear, you know how important sleep else you'll get dark circles on your beautiful face, mon amour.” Even now he was trying to sweet talk you. The grim look on your face didn't budge, “We have to talk about something, lyney. It seems as if these days we never even talk properly. I miss you. I understand you have certain duties but I can't go like this. It feels we are more like roommates than lover these days.” His face darkened. And yet he didn’t say anything. “You can talk to me about it, at least tell me what's wrong so that I can at least understand. Please lyney, I love you, I want this to work, I WANT US TO WORK. But not if you keep shutting me out and pushing me away.” A look of guilt flashed on his face before he masked his features again. “I can't tell you what is happening. You know I can't betray the House. Not after all it has done for me. And I had been thinking about this for a while, but maybe we should take a break.” You looked at him in shock. He couldn’t be implying what you thought he was. “So, this is it huh you choose the House over us?” He slowly nodded his head as he avoided your gaze. “I'm sorry mon amour but I have duties I cannot ignore, and you are a distraction. I hate that it had to be this way, but the House comes first.” You couldn’t believe him, you felt sick like you were gonna collapse. The tears in your eyes stung, threatening to fall. And so, you did exactly what he asked you to do, you walked away. 

Lyney’s POV 

He watched you as you walked away, keeping his own emotions at bay. He loved you, he truly did, but he could not risk you getting hurt. Not with the upcoming ‘plan’. Everything was going to finally begin, all the big plans they had set in motion. It was finally time. So, he had to let you go, both for your own safety and to make sure he was ready to sacrifice whatever it took for the plan to succeed. He had recently discovered that he was chosen to be ‘Fathers’ successor. That would put you in so much more risk. He could not do it to you, let you carry this burden. You deserved someone who could give you a safe life, not someone like him. For a second, he let himself wonder what it would be like was he not from the House, if he was just a normal Fountaine citizen. But alas, wondering gets you nowhere, because he did have duties, duties to the House, to ‘Father’, and duty to save the people of Fountaine. “For the greater good”, he repeated I his mind, over and over again, as he watched you walk away from his life.

End note: it seems I got carried away. Initially, I was gonna do a simple argument, but this idea struck me and I just had to write this. I love the lyney and the house and now he's probably the next harbinger ( he mentions the successor thing in his character story!) if it wasn't clear this is roughly around the time right before the archon quest starts hence the mention of his upcoming show at the opera!!! the plan is referring to the big fatui plan with the tampering of the Oratrice and Childe getting arrested. it is probably a very intricate plan and hence I wrote it like this. hope you liked it<3

[dewdropsonparchment]

SDV Headcanons: Sam 3/?

Little thoughts about Sam, a bit angsty here and there. It's random and I'm not sure there will be any coherency between the points I share, most if it is more on the negative emotions side. What do you mean there are other characters in Stardew sorry I can't see anybody else besides the resident sunshine boi he's shining too strong

Some angsty Sam headcanons:

Sam strikes me as somebody who internalizes everything he feels that might be seen as negative. I don't think Jodi was ever abusive to him in any way, but I feel that she could have been very judgmental and controlling as he was growing up, so much so that he would have taken each and every single little thing she might have deemed to be a flaw to heart and tried to cover all of these as best he could overtime.

Sam would probably feel shy about doing something he's not used to doing in front of somebody in fear of being judged. It could be trying his hands at cooking, sewing a patch on a jacket, painting something on his skateboard,... He's probably had a lifetime of people telling him he wasn't doing x and y right, that he was stupid for doing it the way he did, that he was just making a mess, that he wouldn't succeed and now he just really feels anxious about people seeing him try things he's not comfortable with. What's sad is that he'd probably be able to undertake anything and everything he'd set his mind to. Sam definitely isn't scared to get his hands dirty and if he was given the space to actually grow and experiment safely, with the encouragements he deserves, then he'd be amazing at anything, really.

After the band's concert, Sam is critical about the mistakes that he made playing the guitar and hopes that nobody noticed them, so I feel like he might be a bit of a perfectionist and wouldn't want others to necessarily perceive him as average in the things he knows how to do. I do strongly believe Sam is actually gifted when it comes down to playing instruments and that he knows it, so he's especially critical about his performance because he might internally believe he doesn't have any real other strong skill to share with the world. However, if it's something he's not known to be good at, like pools, he's not really gonna care that he's bad at it and will laugh about it himself. I feel Sam would really kind of use humor to beat himself up, too, and have a tendency to put himself down and "joke" about how he's unable to do so many things/how he sucks at so many basic things (not necessarily consciously though).

I have a feeling Sam is a very emotional and very expressive person but that he feels like he can't really show his vulnerable emotions out in the open. He would make sure to be alone, either under the shower, late in the evening in his bed, in a remote area like the beach or forest, before he is able to let himself cry and let out the pent up pain he might have let build up. He would feel comfortable with Sebastian and the farmer knowing how he feels, but everybody else he would rather die than let them see any of it.

I don't think he would take his feelings out on someone he loves, but I feel like he would kind of build up walls high enough that you would have to actively encourage him to share his emotions as well as know the signs of him being upset for him to consider opening up at all.

Alright some more angst because I can... I have this random headcanon that, while he wouldn't be jealous of Seb and wouldn't resent him for anything because he's genuinely friends with him and loves him to bits; that he would feel REALLY inferior to him. Seb is smart, good looking, looks like he's got his shit together (which he doesn't but hey when you compare yourself to others you're never objective are you), he's got that charisma that kinds of lure people in somehow. Maybe in the past when they were in high school Sam had developed a crush on somebody, and maybe said somebody and him were getting along well, and then maybe that somebody confessed to having feelings for Seb and Sam just now kinds of lives off that fear that he's not going to be good enough for anybody. That somebody else is always going to be better than him. That the farmer couldn't possibly look at him the way that he looks at them. That the farmer is probably completely infatuated with Seb. He'd be happy for both of them of course. And curse himself for whatever it is he's lacking that could make him worthy enough to be special to somebody.

[vioartemis]

Admiring from afar

(Tara Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: Just me trying a new concept, you'll have to read to know what it is 👀 a/n: I'm not dead, just had a strong writers block (which is still here), here's a little thing :)) Warnings: light angst (?) (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

You were not supposed to meet, not supposed to ever talk to each other, let alone falling in love with each other. But here you were, seeing each other in secret, deeply in love.

You knew it was wrong. You knew you shouldn't feel that way, that it wasn't 'normal'. That's what everyone would say if they knew.

But you couldn't help it; she was so perfect.

Before meeting her, you had seen her a few times with her sister and her friends, and were already simping for her. She was so pretty, with her cute freckles and her big brown eyes...

You wanted to meet her, get to know her, give her a hug, knowing what she went through. You were tired of admiring from afar.

For a long time, you thought it wasn't possible; the barrier between you was too difficult to bypass.

Until one day you found something. Something that might work.

You were determined to try and succeed.

The first times you tried, you failed miserably. Something always ruined everything. After a couple of fail, you started to think you would never be able to actually meet her.

You decided to try one more time, just one more.

And this time, it worked. You were so nervous when her gaze met yours. And also a bit confused.

But the moment was magical. Like a dream.

You were getting along so well; way better than what you imagined. You had a lot in common, the same humor, and felt really comfortable with each other.

You both agreed you needed to meet again, as often as possible; You were already addicted to each other.

It had been months since you met now, or at least that's what it felt like. You couldn't wait for the night to come so you could see her again. She had become your world, your light.

You wished you could tell your friends and family about her; about how happy she made you. But they wouldn't understand. None of them would.

As soon as you saw her, she was running into your arms, before her soft lips met yours.

"I missed you so much..." she whispered once she had pulled away

"I missed you too... I'm sorry I couldn't make it last night..."

She shook her head at your apology.

"It's okay, don't apologize. We have plenty of time now"

She took your hand with one of these smiles that made you melt, and pulled you towards a blanket on the floor.

"I thought a picnic would be romantic... What do you think?"

"I love it, Tara. Thank you"

You didn't really know if you thanked her for the picnic, or just for being here, with you, and for all that she did for you.

After a while of eating, cuddling, and enjoying each other's company, you said:

"I want to stay here forever, with you..."

"Me too, Y/n... me too... But we both know we can't..."

"I know, I... I'm just... ... What if you find someone else...? Someone with who you can be all the time, someone that you wouldn't be forced to keep a secret, someone-"

"Hey hey...! Stop, please. I don't want anyone else, okay?"

"... what about Chad?"

She frowned, confused by your question.

"Chad? I don't care about him, you know it baby..."

You don't say anything to that, not sure you should tell her.

"Y/n, are you saying that Chad and I...?"

You looked away and nodded slightly, your stomach twisting at the thought.

She grabbed your face and made you look at her.

"It won't happen. Not after meeting you. You're the only one for me, I couldn't dream of someone better. You're perfect, you understand me, I understand you... We're meant to be, Y/n... I'm convinced we are"

"Even if we're from different worlds...?"

She nodded.

"Even if we are from different worlds"

She pulled you in for a soft, yet passionate kiss, whispering sweet nothings to you after pulling away.

Both of your watches suddenly rang, letting you know it's time to say goodbye.

"I don't want to go back, Tara..."

"Me neither, but we have to..."

She kissed you one more time.

"If you miss me, you know what to do... I'll do it too, because I always miss you" she chuckled slightly, trying to lighten up your mood

You cracked a little smile at her comment.

"I love you" you whispered in her ear as you hugged her, closing your eyes

"I love you too"

When you opened your eyes, your room was lightened by some sunrays filtering through your curtains.

You stayed still for a few minutes, laying in your bed, reviewing your meeting with Tara in your head. You couldn't hold back a few tears that rolled down your cheeks.

You already missed her...

You sat up on your bed and lifted your pillow to grab the sheet of paper hidden under it. You looked at it, reading the few lines written on it, before putting it in the drawer of your bedside table.

You would need it tonight too.

You took a moment to think about everything, about how you met Tara in the first place, especially.

The excitement when you saw her, the confusion as you noticed you were not where you were supposed to be, the shock as you understood what happened...

It did not go as you expected, that's for sure.

I mean... How could you have imagined that she would shift for you too?

[legendofmorons]

twilight x gn!reader angst, involving a misunderstanding/argument? maybe one of the chain offhandedly makes a comment about twilight’s past feelings for midna (or ilia), and reader becomes convinced their feelings for him are unrequited, thus, acting differently towards him.

I'm so down for this! Sorry for the delay. School has been a real pain this semester.

Crush(ed) (Twilight)

Pairing: Twilight x Reader ("unrequieted")

Rating : G

Summary: When you overhear how Twilight feels for a princess ( you assume his zelda), you distance yourself in an attempt to save your own heart.

Warnings: angst, idiots

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know

-------

You can't really express how excited you are to be staying at an inn. The entire group has settled at a table, food set in front of them.

And you get an actual bed! To sleep in! Fuck yeah!

"I'm telling you, we have bad luck with love." Legend says, "Time and Sky are just flukes."

"Or you haven't lived long enough." Twilight challenges.

"Right because you and that princess of yours worked out so well." Legend says as he rolls his eyes. "At least you have that farm girl back home, you like her enough."

"Legend." Time says sharply.

"Ilia? She's a great girl." Twilight says, and that is all it takes to ruin your night.

You can deal with the mention of the princess. It's hard not to admire all Zeldas to a degree.

You've met a few, and they're crush worthy, at least. But the dismissal of the girl is nice still.

But a farm girl from his time and home? That's too much.

Because he dosen’t dismiss her name. He sounds so fond of her.

This sucks. You need to think.

You set your silverware down, having only eaten a few bites. "I'm headed to bed... I don't feel quite right."

Twilight turns to you immediately, "(Y/n) are you feelin' okay?"

"Just a bit under the weather. l. I should be fine later. Don't worry." You smile.

Sky shoots you a concerned look- which is fair since he's the only one you've told about your feelings for the resident cowboy.

You shoot him a soft smile, aiming for reassuring. (Based on the brow furrow you get back, you don't succeed. )

You stand up from the table, turning as you do.

Twilight grabs your wrist gently, "(Y/n), are you sure you're gonna be alright?"

You have to push back the swell of emotions. Obviously he's just being a good friend. There's no romance behind his actions.

(He really is a good friend. Thank Hylia you didn't tell him how you feel.)

You yank your wrist away because you know if you don't yank it, you'll do something stupid to let him talk you into staying, "I said that I'll be fine."

Twilight looks- hurt.

You're probably just imagining it.

(Right? Even if he is hurt, it's probably just cause he's worried about you. Like a friend would be. Like Sky is worried.)

You leave the room, already reevaluating all of the interactions you've had with Twilight. You have to stop letting him coddle you.

You have to stop asking him for help every time anything is slightly wrong.

You have to stop seeking him out for company and comfort so often.

And to get over him you should stop spending so much time with him.

Well, that's fine. You'll just stay busy and spend more time with Sky and Wind. Maybe Wild too, you'll stay busy with the cook around.

You find your room, the one you're sharing with Four. (Thankfully, if you were sharing with Twilight like you'd originally hoped, you would have considered running away.)

You collapse into a heap on your bed, eyes stinging as tears well up.

You're so stupid! Why would Twilight ever like you back?!

At least you found out he isn't interested before you confessed. That would have been so embarrassing.

Thank Hylia for little mercies. Or, however it is that the saying goes.

........

The past week has left Twilight feeling more blue than an icicle. His days dimmed dramatically by the lack of your presence beside him.

You're still traveling with them. (Where else would you go?)

But you are spending almost all of your time with the others. Mostly with Wind, Wild, and Sky.

And the few times you have interacted with him have been... well - distant and overly cordial. Like you're mad as a wet hen with him but don't wanna ruin the rest of the chain's days.

Twilight has tried to figure it out. But he comes up grasping for straws when he does. He can't find any reason for you to ignore him.

He hasn't done anything wrong. Not as far as anyone can tell him.

And he's asked. He's asked everyone! (Everyone except you.)

Though the look Sky gives is far too sympathetic for the skyloftian to not know something. Not that Sky would tell Twilight anything.

Not since Sky likes to stay out of confrontation when possible.

Right now though, you're stretched out over Wild and Wind, the three of you basking in the sunlight as the group rests for lunch.

"You're staring again." Hyrule says as he holds out a freshly filled canteen to Twilight.

"Am not."

"You really are, Twilight."

"Even if I am, what about it? Am I sposed to apologize?"

"No. You just look like a kicked puppy."

Twilight takes the canteen with a frown. His eyes falling to the ground between his feet.

"Hey, you could always just ask (Y/n) what's up."

"I'd sound crazy!"

"Not really."

"And how would I not sound crazy?" Twilight asks, and it'd almost be funny if hyrule weren't so done with this.

"You're just asking if you did something to upset them." Hyrule explains slowly, trying not to snap at the rancher.

"You don't get it. A week ago we were fine. We were practically best buddies! And now-"

"(Y/n) won't give you the time of day?" Hyrule finishes for Twilight helpfully. "You know it won't get better without talking. Right?"

"I know."

"Then talk to them."

Twilight does not do that. Instead he let's you have space. As much space as you want.

He's fine. Thank you very much. He isn't going to break just becuase someone He's so incredibly fond of stops being his friend.

(That would be stupid.)

So Twilight resigns himself to the way things are. And they stay like that. Becuase no one here believes in communication.

[neko-naruto]

take one step forward (two steps back)

summary: guarding the Master Emerald gave him purpose when had nothing but corpses surrounding him, no wonder it's so hard to drop the urgency

tags: character study, angst

authors note: a gift for the wonderful @ohposhers because i missed their birthday by A Very Large Margin and wanted to write them a fic regardless, hope everyone enjoys

How long has it been since he started doing this?

...

. . .

.  .  .

Yeah, too long.

Knuckles shrugs just enough to return feeling to his arms. He doesn't stand up though. It's his resting day, where he allows himself to sit instead of pace circles around the Master Emerald.

He should go find food.

Or water.

It's been a while since he last did so.

Maybe he should've given himself breaks more often then once a day.

But what if it happens again?

Eggman, Robotnik, whatever the people call him now, what if he returns? Comes back for a second shot at getting the Master Emerald?

What if he succeeds?

No!

Fuck, no, bad thoughts. It won't happen again, he's better than that now. Nothing will ever touch the Master Emerald again unless it's his own two paws or someone who he dearly trusts.

He stands up and paces circles around the Master Emerald. He just needs to get it out of his head, doubts, fears, worries, he's better now.

The telltale sound of wings flapping alert him and he finds Rouge dropping down. In her arms is Shadow, being carried similarly to a cat with one hand under each of his arms. She places down Shadow and drops down beside him with a small flourish as usual.

"Knuckles, why are you still here?" Shadow asked.

Knuckles scoffed, "I'm doing my job, why aren't you doing yours?"

"We were supposed to meet up at one of the cafe's today for a drink, sweetheart," Rouge said.

Knuckles faltered.

That was today?

He should get a calendar, or a more accurate tell of time. He doesn't even know how old he is in an exact number these days, just the rough estimation from Tails' DNA test. There is no exact date of birth, so he chose January first, an easy one to remember.

"What's wrong with you?" Shadow questioned as he stepped closer.

"It slipped my mind," Knuckles said. He was lying through his teeth and everyone knew it.

Shadow quirked a brow.

So did Rouge.

"I have to guard the Master Emerald-"

Rouge bit back at his statement, "No you don't. Nobody wants to steal it anymore."

"You do, for starters."

"And? Who else?"

Again, Knuckles goes silent.

"That's what we thought," Shadow said rather curtly.

"Sorry for forgetting, it won't happen again."

He knows that's a lie.

He knows his mind is still full of worries about the emerald. That he'll never truly be able to empty it and leave behind the need to protect the emerald. He knows he's a dog in that aspect.

"You better not, we were all looking forward to hanging out with you sweetie," Rouge said with a bit of a pout.

"Don't forget that you have a mission with Sonic tomorrow," Shadow said.

Rouge elbowed him, "Ease up, don't be so snappy."

"I'll do better next time."

-/-/-/-

Knuckles doesn't do better.

He swears he tries too, but everything just sort of, falls out of his brain. There was one little scare, a stray degraded beebot made its way onto the island. It had no real directive or drive to move to obtain the Master Emerald but it sets off every single alarm inside of Knuckles' head.

He just reverts.

All of his knowledge remains but it's shoved aside and replaced by an instinct to hunt and herd and protect. He does laps of the entire island, scouring for anything that could be out of place. He knows logically he doesn't need to, that it was just a leftover stray badnik.

But deep in the recesses of a mind molded to one purpose since he was naught but a child, he needs to do this. And he can't deny his instinct, he never could.

-/-/-/-

Shadow finds him passed out by a creek in the Mushroom Hill's. It just looks like he collapsed. Face down on the mossy grass and body splayed out like he's dead.

"Rouge! I found him!" Shadow called out.

In mere moments Rouge came crashing down from between mushrooms that threatened to bounce her back. She brushes herself down before standing at attention. With a brief glance at Knuckles' her cockiness evaporates. "I think we should be worried."

"Our mission-"

"He's passed out on the ground something happened to him!" Rouge snapped, pressing a gloved paw to Shadow's chest to nudge him back, "He's your partner, start acting like it. Cut him some slack."

Shadow huffed, "Fine."

Rouge crouches down and shakes Knuckles' awake.

He's groggy and slow to gain his senses again. His body is strained. Fuck he didn't actually get any water before passing out, did he? He scrambles to the creeks edge on auto-pilot and near fully submerges his snout.

With a heady gasp he resurfaces.

"Finally awake?" Shadow asked.

Knuckles snaps over to face him.

"What happened, red?" Rouge asked. There's a near pitying look on her face, one of worry.

"Badnik, Master Emerald," Knuckles said. He was still hacking on taking in too much water. "You know how it is."

"One Badnik?"

"They're like bugs, if you see one there's bound to be a hundred."

"Was there a hundred?" Shadow asked before taking a seat on the dirt. Rouge followed suit.

Knuckles shook his head, "I still had lap Angel Island to be sure."

Rouge felt worry build faster in her stomach, "How many times did you lap it?"

Knuckles shrugged. "Enough."

"Until you passed out, is how many times," Shadow corrected, "You need a vacation."

"That Badnik only further proves why I can't leave my post even once," Knuckles said. He didn't know why he was arguing in favor of this awful cycle. He had to. He had duty. He had purpose. This was his existence. He can't abandon, not now, not after it's been proven it has a point again.

For a stagnant moment both Rouge and Shadow are silence, then Rouge speaks.

"We'll stay with you then." She speaks with finality to her tone, "If you can't visit us off island then we'll visit you on island and protect the emerald with you."

"You just want to steal it like you always do," Knuckles spat.

Rouge scoffed, "Please, there are far bigger fish to fry than a thing like The Master Emerald."

"Even if you kick her out, I'm still staying here to guard it with you," Shadow tacked on.

"It's not your job."

"It will be."

"It will never be your duty the way it's my duty."

-/-/-/-

They still come to pester him daily on his laps.

He still tries to ward them off out of an instinct then real conviction towards them. He loves them too much to actually want to get rid of them. He still can't kill the thing in his head that says that anyone with sentience stepping foot on the island wants the worst.

That won't stop them from bothering him non-stop regardless.

"We brought you some grape jello," Rouge stated as she handed the cling-wrapped bowl to Knuckles.

"And a blanket for your hammock hut you have set up out in the woods," Shadow tacked on as he tossed a crocheted blanket at Knuckles. It consisted of muted hues of reds, blacks, pinks, blues- nearly the entire rainbow really. "Everyone wanted to pitch in and cast a few rows of their own color."

Knuckles wrapped himself up in the blanket, "That's sweet."

"Do you think we could help you guard the Emerald yet?" Rouge asked, "Robotnik is back out."

Knuckles paused before nodding, "Yeah, you guys can help if you really want to."

Rouge grinned, "I hope your hut has room for two more hammocks then, cause if it doesn't we're all dogpiling."

[aliorsboxostuff]

Idk if u will do this request but! Miguel’s time is like futuristic set right? ( trans people would just transition and be more accepted in this timeline sí right? 😭) so Miguel He went to college at a high prestige science university and so did reader for he is too an smart as him with his own creations in robotics and chemistry. Miguel had tried to get alone room accommodation but failed and got partnered up with transftm!reader and they became roommates. Reader fell in love with Miguel but he didn’t notice cuz he was too focused on his work and whatever. Years go by aka spider verse but suddenly miguel needs help from his old college roommate. Angst fluff maybe…smut??? Sorry English isn’t my first language 😭😭

Hey anon! I appreciate the idea and i love how much you fleshed it out! Dont worry, i completely understand your vision, and i get it english is hard for me too lol i hope i got your ideas right tho, sorry this turned into angst more than what i was aiming lmao enjoy all!

History

Tags: Miguel O’hara x FTM!Reader, Villain!Reader, Lyla, Past Relationship, Angst, Falling Out, Fighting, Arguments, Dirty Thoughts, Meet-Cute, Pining, Secret Crushes, Miguel is as dense as ever, poor reader on this one HAHA

They had a history. Of living together, spending time with each other, but despite all of that it all went downhill. Who knew your ex-roommate turns out to be Doc Oct

(Takes place before Post Credit Scene in into the Spiderverse)

—

"Miguel, I hate to tell you this but we can't-"

"There has to be another way, you designed this Lyla!"

"Hey! Don't blame the AI, blame the maker! I only followed what you said!" 

Lyla huffs and glitches to another part of the console. Miguel is currently hunched over a table in the corner of his lair, the only light illuminating his project is the light rod over his workbench and the monitors around him. 

The girl busies herself with schematics, working out equations and trying to find where they went wrong.

Miguel's latest work on the multiverse brace is to eliminate the glitches that it makes whenever someone uses it. It could potentially lead to wounds from the cells traveling to a different world, and even the healing factor won't fix it. Worst-case scenario, it would lead to a fatal wound, possibly death, and Miguel can't risk that if he's gonna start interdimensional travel. 

His eyes scan over the chip connected to his computer, adding and removing codings that might've gone wrong. He's wearing the headband Lyla gifted him, or mailed to him when it was his birthday months ago, to be exact. 

"I swear the shell is all good, Miguel. It should all contain the molecules needed for the portal bracelet,"

"Can you please stop calling it that?" 

"What? 'Portal'?"

"Yes. It's not a portal, we already have that," Miguel rolls his eyes, gluing them back to the screen.

"Then what are we calling it?" Lyla pouts, adjusting her heart glasses.

"Transdimensional Pathfinding Wristlet."

Lyla pauses her work, and turns to Miguel, her brows raised, the blinks once, twice. "Wh- seriously?" 

"Y'know what, I'm not even gonna try," He shakes her head before glitching to another monitor. "Leave it to the crazy scientist to name his things,"

Miguel ignores what his AI had said, instead focusing back on the chip. If this succeeds, it’ll be the first dimensional trip the prototype could make, and he’d prefer not to be a piece of burnt toast once he comes out of it. He coded another line, before he ran a diagnostic. The screen glares red, the annoyingly big letters of ‘ERROR’ pops up.

Miguel blinks, before he feels his claws coming out, promptly making him stand and throw his chair across the room. It shatters, the metal pieces clinking to the concrete floor. He heaves, sharp fangs bared, barely causing anger at his fingertips. 

Lyla fixes him with a look. “That your fifth chair Miguel,”

The man takes a steady breath, wiping his hand across his face, working at his jaw. He tilts his head sharply and something pops. He faintly hears Lyla clicking her tongue. 

"There's a guy I know,"

—

"What do you mean there isn't any- I booked a single room last week," 

"I'm sorry but there must've been a mishap in the system. I'm going to have to put you with an available roommate," 

"I don't want-" Miguel sighs, tapping his foot insistently. "Look, is there any way I can register for another single room?" 

"You can wait a couple of weeks for a vacant room, but you'd need to consult with the head of the faculty." She nodded to him, a regretful look behind those blonde bangs. Miguel huffs, hands on his hips, thinking out a decision. 

"Fine," He groans. "Who's still available for a roommate then?" 

The girl's brows raise before she quickly types something into the computer, reading out what looks like a list with numbers and names. "Oh!" She smiles. "Room 304, on the third floor is still awaiting a roommate,"

"Great, thank you," Miguel grumbles, already picking up his boxes where he left them on the floor.

"If you'd like-" The girl calls for him again. "I can talk to the faculty member, see if I can help you with the room situation," 

"Sure, I'd appreciate it," Miguel's back is already turned to her as he makes his way to the building's elevator. With his gym bag slung over his shoulder, and the boxes of his unfinished work, traversing the hallway takes a bit of an effort. Students were not mingling around because most of them were already in their rooms, with the time turning just after 5 PM. 

Finally, he reaches the elevator doors. Miguel shuffles the boxes into one hand, struggling to press the button before he is beaten to it by another hand reaching for the ascend button too. 

"Here man, let me help you," The person says, already picking up the two boxes that cover Miguel's vision even before he said anything.

"Hey don't-" He begins, before he finally gets a good look at the person that dared to touch his scraps. The man in front of him, standing just inches taller than him, hair with an unintelligible style, captivating eyes and the faintest smirk on his lips. 

Miguel's brain stutters a bit. "I'm- nevermind, thanks," 

"Of course dude," And Miguel's interest plummets. "What floor?"

"Third please," He nods, pressing the button once he and Miguel get in. The door closes and leaves the two in silence, only the faint whirr of the elevator's machine. 

"So, late to dorm assignments?" 

"Nah, they messed up my request," 

"Shit, really?" He turns to Miguel, his brows furrowed. 

"Yeah, now I'm stuck with a damn roomie,"

"Oh yeah? What room?" 

"304, apparently," Miguel huffs, looking down into the box he's carrying, the tape on it peeling slightly. The guy halts, now his brows are raised. 

Miguel's turn to look confused, before the guy chuckles lightly. "Funny you say that 'cuz," 

"I'm room 304," He smirks, readjusting the boxes. 

There's a pause, before he feels the red of embarrassment gathers on his cheeks. "You're-" 

"That damn roomie? Yeah,"

"Fuck, sorry I didn't-"

"No no, it's fine! Really," The guy laughs, shaking his head while Miguel tries to formulate a coherent sentence. "I don't mind man, I get wanting your own space though," 

"Hey, I hope I'll be a good roomie," He bumps Miguel's shoulder lightly, his smile not fading. Miguel finds himself mimicking it slightly. After that, he introduced himself to Miguel, his major and such.

The elevator opens just after that, the two make their way down the hallway. He asks about Miguel's major too, just as they reach the door. 

"I seriously didn't think I'd get a roomie," He chuckles, turning the key with a million other key chains. It jingles, before he pushes the door open and into the room. "I'll go check with the front desk-" 

"Oh!" He turns after putting down the two boxes he was carrying. "Just got the text, said they'll give you the key tomorrow," 

"Great," Miguel rolls his eyes, putting down his box on the vacant desk and his duffle on the chair. He turns, inspecting the room that he's been sent to stay in. One side is already cluttered with his roommate's stuff, plants and books and papers strewn about. He tilts his head when he spots a flag on his desk.

"You're trans?" Miguel asks, turning to him where he was still standing with his phone out. He hums and lifts his head, meeting Miguel's browns.

"Oh that old thing? Yeah," He scratches the back of his neck. "I know, I get it. No one really cares nowadays, the worlds moved on, whatever," 

He glances at the little flag, pink and white and blue adding color to the messy desk. He smiles. "It's a reminder, I guess," 

Miguel stares at the flag, just once, before he nods and shrugs, turning to open his boxes. "Sure, that's cool," 

He can practically feel the sunshine radiating from his roommate behind him. He crosses his arms, turning again to face him, and he's right because his roommate has a really bright smile. "I hope we'll be good friends, Miguel," 

—

"Miguel there's so many people in Nueva York how am I supposed to-'' Lyla stops, before she grins. "Nevermind, found him!" 

Miguel finishes his spider shot, cracking his neck again as he sets the syringe down. He turns towards Lyla, the AI already projecting the location. "Looks like our guy lives in… the slums? I thought you said he was a prodigy," 

"Yeah well not everyone gets a decent job even if they are a genius," Miguel huffs, running his hand through his hair as he looks at the mirror.

"Who's you said the guy was again?" Lyla begins to scroll through the data. 

Miguel sighs. "Old roommate, back in college," 

"Ooh, interesting," She giggles.

"Lyla don't-" 

"I'm not looking through his history! Just a peek, though," 

Miguel lets out another sigh, walking towards the large opened window. "Uh, hey Miguel, are you sure about this?" 

"Why what's wrong?" 

Lyla displays her screen as it glitches in front of Miguel. According to her research, the old roomie has been caught by the police stealing items from hardware stores and electronic stores, a handful of accounts of disruption of peace according to the other tenants in his old apartment. And he's currently deemed missing.

"Where did you say his location was?" Miguel reads through the file, his brows knitted. 

"Just here, some abandoned warehouse in the slums," 

—

“Miguel, man, you’ve got to eat,” A tray for warm food was suddenly placed between Miguel's paperwork. He huffs, pushing the plate away and to the edge of his already small table. He hears a sigh, before the plate is moved out of his peripherals, and Miguel is back into his work.

“Dude, you only ate like, one energy bar after going to the gym,” 

“I’m fine,” 

Another exasperated sigh, before his roommate goes back to whatever robotics he was working on. Miguel has been perfecting his latest assignment the whole week, going back and forth on his computer, writing down research papers and consulting with his professors. Meanwhile, the man that he shares his room with is tinkering with a recent robotic piece he’s been pouring his heart into.

It’s correct that they share most of their schedule together. Miguel would wake up before dawn, and so would he. They’d run a couple of laps around campus before hitting the gym just before it gets too crowded. He’d spot for Miguel while Miguel would comment on his form if it needs any improvement. Sometimes they’d share breakfast together, before they head for their different classes, though ever since Miguel has been engrossed in his recent paperwork, their time spent together has been blessed. It'd be a lie to say Miguel doesn't miss their shared time, but he supposes seeing him back in their room after a long day is enough. Though, it doesn't seem enough for his friend. 

Unbeknownst to Miguel, his roommates have been supporting a devastating crush on him. Stolen glances, longing eyes whenever Miguel's back is turned towards him. Times when he’d stare a bit too long whenever Miguel was doing his bench presses, times when he’d stand close just to feel the comforting warmth beside him. He’d fuss over Miguel, bringing food or drinks, bringing things Miguel might've forgotten with his busy schedule. Sometimes, when Miguel worked too late and too much, he’d fall asleep on his desk, at which he’d bring his blanket to cover Miguel’s back. In the morning, he rolls his eyes and says something about Miguel getting a bad back, which Miguel would promptly ignore. 

It’s currently Friday night. The man that's sitting on the opposite side of the room has seemingly lost interest in his robotics and decided to peer out of their bedroom window. Suddenly, Miguel is bombarded by a loud shout coming from outside of their room, and snaps quickly to the source. He sees his roommate has opened the bedroom window and is looking out into the campus’ courtyard. 

“Yeah, I'll join you! Be right down!” He hollers, before he shuts and locks the window. Miguel turns, blinking away the slight dizziness he got. 

“Who was that?” 

“A friend, they're having a party at one of the frat houses, you wanna join?” He grins, pulling on his leather jacket and pocketing his belongings. Miguel has never been to a party and he's not about to start going, especially when he has a deadline to push. He shakes his head, always swiveling back his chair. 

“No thanks,” 

He hears his friend scoff. “Come on Miguel! You’ve been working on that thing for ages now, you deserve a break, and the deadline isn't for another month!” 

“I’m not interested,” Miguel bites back, barely glancing at his pleas. 

“Just this once, I promise it’ll be fun! I’ll be there and I can take care of-”

“I said I'm not interested.” He spits out, already hunching into the part he’s soldiering. He doesn't hear anything, not an answer or another push for him to join. The air has changed, something heavy hangs between them. The tension is palpable, but despite it all Miguel only hears the shuffling of his friend's boots. 

“Sure, whatever,” His roommate fixes a stare at the back of Miguel's head, before he unlocks their door. “Y’know, one of these days that work of yours is going to destroy you if you're not careful,” 

And with that, he leaves Miguel alone for the night. 

—

“What the fuck!” Miguel jumps and manages to hold on to the side of the building. “Lyla searches for his weakness points!”

“Hah! You think this has a weakness, Miguel?!” The man shouts, a wide grin on his lips. “I’ve perfected these arms, they are practically indestructible!” 

“SO this is how you greet your old roommate?” 

“I’d prefer for us to meet for coffee, but after how you treated me, I think this…” He brings a menacing robotic arm towards him, as if to inspect it. “Is way better,” 

The arm suddenly lunges towards Miguel which he narrowly avoids. He jumps and entwines two of the appendages together as he lands behind the man, at which he growls and breaks free of Miguel’s red webs. “I never treated you badly!”

“No, not really huh,” He smirks. “But you never noticed the shit I did for you anyways!” 

He spears those sharp arms towards Miguel which he does a couple of doges before jumping down the rooftop they were currently fighting on. 

“All of those morning coffees, late dinners, all for nothing! None! All because you were so fucking focused-” He sharply turns, grabbing Miguel’s wrist and stopping him from dropping a punch. He suddenly pulls Miguel towards him, burning anger behind those eyes. “On combining a damn spider's DNA with yourself!” 

He throws the Spiderman across the street, breaking several walls until the momentum finally stops. Miguel groans, cracking his neck when Lyla suddenly pops up. “Boss, the control panel for those arms is on his back, if you could pull it apart from him, it’ll stop him from controlling it,”

“On it.” Miguel swiftly stands, running through the many rooms he passed before leaping into the air, catching the man off guard. He throws a punch that lands on his face, throwing him off balance and into the concrete street below. He grows, and fixes his jaw, before launching back to full force against Miguel. 

“It was all fine until you went out with that fucking brunette!” He shouts, throwing debris towards Miguel which he weaves and dodges. “Did I ever mean anything to you?!”

He’s got Miguel pinned to the ground, and pushes all of the arms to stab at him, but instead misses and gets buried in the ground instead when Miguel swiftly pulls away with his web. He struggles to get the appendages out of the strong concrete, suddenly finding them stuck, an opportunity for Miguel to rip the control panel off. He swings above the man, landing directly behind him where he quickly digs his nails into the seams of the panel. 

“I’m sorry,” Miguel manages before he pulls. An ear-splitting scream, before deathly silence. Miguel could only hear his heavy breath, before sparks of green ran through the man's body, and it jolted him. He shouts, before falling into the pavement. Miguel takes a beat to examine the control panel, before throwing it somewhere on the ground. He spots the bareback of his once roommate, a horrid sight of root-like marks growing around the man's back. Miguel furrows his brows, before he hears the faint police sirens, no doubt coming over to clean up the commotion. 

Just as Miguel was about to make his leave, he heard the man cough, a horrid groan behind him. Miguel glances slightly, as he hears him begin to speak. 

“I was right… Your work did destroy you.”

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