#also as a note they leveled up at the end of the last session so yipeeee my babies are getting stronger

[seospicybin]

BAD IDEA, RIGHT?

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Synopsis: Your ex, Chan, makes a return to his social media with a thirst trap. Horny and bored, you decide to see him for the sole reason of getting your physical needs fulfilled. However, as the night goes, you start to wonder if seeing him tonight is a bad idea. (14,4k words)

Author's note: Yes, it's inspired by that one Olivia Rodrigo song.

Talking to your ex is a bad idea, right?

You've been considering whether to slide into his DM or not, commenting on his Instastory which is a video of him exercising half naked, exposing his toned upper half body in all its glory.

It's been two years after the breakup and he didn't post anything on his social media until today, it's like he knows you're bored and horny.

It's unclear whether it's him or it's your uterus talking, but he looks hotter, sexier, and bigger than the last time you saw him. Although you must admit that he's always been attractive to you, except that his attractiveness is on a whole 'nother level now and it makes you wonder why you let this man go in the first place.

In your defense, Chan is not a terrible ex, he decided to break up with you because he was leaving to study abroad and thought the long-distance relationship would be hard and mentally draining for both of you.

You acted like it didn't hurt you but when you came home that night, you cried so hard that your pillow got drenched in tears. You didn't want to break up with him because he's a great guy who happens to be great in bed too, not only because he has the most delicious cock you've ever had but he also knows how to put it to a good use. Simply put, you were so devastated thinking that you'd never find a man like him again.

And you know what? You were right. You tried dating a few times but nothing comes close to what you had with Chan. Also, can't two people reconnect?

Before you get to change your mind again, you decide to hit the like button and send a short message in his DM.

Hey, there. You type into the message box, adding a smiling emoji at the end to make it sound casual but friendly at the same time.

There's no reply or a sign that he's read your message, you figure he must be busy on a Saturday morning, he could be having another session at the gym or having breakfast, or... yeah, it could be him ignoring your messages.

Slightly hangover from hanging out with your friends last night, you slump down your bed and close your eyes to get another few minutes of sleep.

You wake up an hour later with more than a dozen notifications on your phone, they're mostly your friends sending photos they took of you last night. You groan when you see a couple of work emails and do not think twice to skip them. There are some texts from friends and then, there it is, a reply from Chan.

Well, hello, there!

It's been ages.

How are you?

You check the time and his replies came about fifteen minutes ago, there's a possibility that he's still on his phone and he'll respond faster this time.

Never been better.

How about you?

Looking fine as ever, I see.

You add the eyes emoji before hitting the send button and drop your phone onto the bed, it's a bit risky but a compliment never hurt. Besides, who doesn't like getting a compliment?

The thought that Chan is probably waiting for your reply in those fifteen minutes amuses you but pfft... that's just your wishful thinking.

As you wait for his response, you're checking the photos your friends sent you. You check them one by one, deleting the ones that you don't like and saving the good ones where you look flattering.

An idea pops into your head as you go through your gallery: a plan. First, you choose a photo of you that shows your whole look last night, dressed in a blue mini dress and strappy heels with your hair up, tied in a messy bun, in other words, you looked hot and you felt like it when your friend took the picture.

You upload it as your Instagram story and wait until it is successfully uploaded. You're sure as hell he'll see your new post, then he'll get curious and open it, and Wowza!

Chan thinks he can be the only one posting a thirst trap on a Saturday morning, huh?

It only takes a minute for the thirst trap to do its job, you smirk at the notifications and see Chan's username on the top.

Me? He adds three flustered emojis to it.

Nah. I'm not.

But you...

You look beautiful as always.

Is it even allowed to look that beautiful?

A year of being single makes you weak at the slightest chance of romance, you catch yourself smiling to yourself in the mirror. You slap yourself to get ahold of yourself, reminding yourself that he could say that just to—

A notification pops up and it shows that Chan liked and reacted to your Instagram story with the hearts eyes emoji. Fuck! You just caught yourself smiling again. but what can you do? You're just a girl who is lonely and in need of some loving touch.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and think about what to reply to him.

And you...

Is it even allowed to have that much of muscles?

Someone, please close the gym!

You look good nonetheless, Chris.

But seriously, close the gym! You add a laughing emoji to keep it playful.

You patiently wait for his reply but your patience only lasts for twenty minutes until he makes you wait longer for his reply and you slump on the bed again.

It's time for plan number two!

The thirst trap worked to pique his interest and you have to come up with something that shows you're a hot commodity, you don't waste your time chasing boys, they chase you. That way, Chan will respond to your message faster.

So here comes plan number two, you take another trip to your gallery, scrolling through photos from last night, and find the perfect photo. It's a picture of you and one of your male friends, you're standing side by side, holding your drinks together and smiling to the camera. There's enough friendliness in there to show that you're close with this guy but also, not that close. You don't know how to explain it, but you know it'll work.

You wait a few more minutes to add it to your Instagram story, not forgetting to tag your friend which is the best part of it. If anyone checks his account, they'll see a model with blue eyes, just the perfect guy to make certain someone is jealous.

You're devilishly laughing as you hit the post button and wait until it is successfully uploaded. You check to see the final result and smile in satisfaction.

Okay, maybe you were too haste and didn't do your calculation right because morning has turned into afternoon and Chan hasn't replied to you. Not only did he make you wait, but you also wasted three hours of your day staring at the ceiling with the phone resting on your chest.

At this point, you should've given up and maybe it's true, he only replied just to be friendly, nothing more. You fling your phone across the bed out of spite and get up, planning to wash him away from your head with a hot shower.

Against the loud sound of the hairdryer, you hear your phone chimes and you turn it off to check whether you're imagining it chimes or not.

You hate how quickly you forget how upset you were a while ago after seeing your phone light up with new notifications.

I'm sorry for replying late.

I was busy moving some stuff.

Do you have time?

And you hate it more that he can easily get your hopes up again. You figure it's time he tastes his own medicine, you put your phone away and leave him on read. You'll reply later when you feel like it, or never. Who knows?

You continue drying your hair but the constant hum of the hairdryer makes you unable to hear your thoughts, especially one that stops you from going to your phone again as it chimes with a new notification. It only takes twenty minutes for you to cave into the temptation.

I don't know about you but all these chats, they're not enough.

Can we video call instead?

It takes you not even a minute to say yes to him. You make a run to your closet and change your clothes, picking up a white top with a low neckline, ditching the bra, and pairing it with denim shorts.

Chan doesn't give you a minute to choose the setting of the video call, your phone rings as you try to make the bed as best as you can and sit with your back against the headboard of the bed.

The phone keeps ringing but you need to check your hair in the mirror again to finally accept the video call. A second later, Chan's face appears on your phone screen, and from his damp hair, it seems like he's just taken a shower too.

"Hey," he greets you as he brushes his curls with his hand.

"You look a little wet, Chris," you tease with a sly smile.

Chan moves, changing his sitting position and revealing himself in a bathrobe with his chest all exposed. Intentional or not, you must admit that's quite a show!

"I was feeling hot so I took a quick shower," he answers with a grin.

"Feeling hot, huh?" You tease again.

"I am now," he playfully responds, flashing you a sly smile and lip bite.

The two of you just stare at each other through the screen and it's getting too much for you with how intense his eyes are.

"So, where are you now?"

"I'm actually in the city," he shortly replies.

"Oh? You're back!" You gasp but hold yourself back from continuing the sentence and ask if he's back for good. The most important thing is he's confirmed his location, all you need to find out next is if he's up to do no good with you.

"Kind of," he vaguely answers.

"Kind of..." you teasingly repeat his words and then giggle.

Chan grins and rests his back against a pillow, it's unclear if he's sitting on the bed or the sofa, "Oh, how I missed that," he says.

You take a pillow and put it on your lap as something to hold on to, "Missed what?"

"Your sweet smiles and cute giggles," he shortly answers like he's been waiting for you to ask him that.

"Oh, stop it, Chris!" You respond, getting a little flustered that you melt onto your pillow. You may as well lie down on your stomach and put the pillow under your chest, "You're getting good at lying, huh?"

"Yeah. Nah. Just a little bit," he jokingly says, then bursts into laughter that his dimples sunken deep into his cheeks.

And oh, you missed his dimpled smiles and his sonorous laughter too, but you're not going to tell him that, maybe not now, or ever.

To avoid it escalating really quickly, you shift the conversation elsewhere. You prop a hand under your chin and tilt your head to the side while the other hand steadily holds your phone far enough from your face.

"So, what are you doing now?"

"Staring at your face," he answers, a half smirk decorating his rectangular face.

"Just my face?" You jokingly ask with a flirty lip bite.

"Everything else too," he adds, catching his eyes flicking down for a second then smirks.

You act oblivious to the fact that with the way you lie on your stomach, you're offering him a view of your cleavage and he would be stupid if he missed the sign.

"What I meant is what are you doing in the city? Is it for work or...?"

"I need to sort a few things," he vaguely explains.

It's obvious that he's keeping the details from you and you have to respect that, he's not your boyfriend and even if he is, he's not obligated to tell you everything. Including the possibility that he came here to see his new girlfriend, perhaps?

"Oh? So, all business, no pleasure?" You joke with a light chuckle, hiding your true intention to know whether he's seeing anyone or not.

"I'm free tonight and I was hoping that we could meet," He says, shattering the negative thoughts that rush through your head.

Now, that gets you thinking if he's coming here to see you and you get that fluttering feeling in your stomach, or it could be your uterus ovulating as you speak, either way, you like it.

"Tonight?" You ask, acting like you already have a plan for tonight.

"Yes. Or do you already have plans for tonight?"

The act always works, gosh, you should consider to start a career as an actor, "Not really, but uh... where do you want us to meet?"

"There's a nice bar in the hotel I'm staying in. We can have a drink or two," he replies, then licks his lips and makes them appear wet and fuller, tantalizing you to kiss them.

Despite you feeling like screaming and jumping on the bed, you remain coy about it, reminding yourself to not sound eager but show enough enthusiasm.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, tilting your head to the other way and saying, "Hotel bar has better drinks so... yeah, I'd love a drink or two."

A triumphant smile rises on his face and it's cute that he lets it show, making you feel a lot of things in a few seconds.

"I'll see you there, I mean, here at 8?"

You tug your middle finger between your teeth and flash him a seductive smile, "Okay."

"I'll DM you the address."

"Okay," you mutter again while staring at him through the screen on your phone.

"See you tonight then," he says, touching his lips and rubbing the lower lip with his long, dainty finger.

"Can't wait to meet you," he adds.

Instead of answering him, you let out a giggle and sit up on the bed. You flip your hair to the back and just stare at him for a minute without saying anything.

"See you tonight, Chris," you finally reply, making sure to call his name with a low, sultry voice and a sly smile.

Without hesitation, you hang up first and let out a long sigh after. It's just a video call but Gosh! It feels like a foreplay already.

You give yourself a moment to compose yourself before execute plan number three: Dressed to fucking impress. To be honest, you don't even bother with the 'impress' part, you just want to fuck.

See? Talking to him is not a bad idea after all.

-

The sound of your high heels constantly tapping the marble floor as you walk echoes in the hotel lobby, you're unsure of how to inform him that you've arrived just a few minutes late from the appointed time.

You take your phone out of your purse and are about to compose a message when you catch him holding his hand up at you from the second floor.

You wave your hand back at him and make your way to the stairs, climbing each step with caution because it would embarrassing if you tripped. But looking at Chan waiting for you at the top of the stairs makes it feel like you're living a scene out of a movie.

Even with his signature all-black look, it doesn't make him less princely. He looks dreamy with crinkles in his eyes and a charming smile on his face.

He offers his hand when you're only a couple of steps away from him. You take it and let him guide you on the last steps of the stairs. His grip is firm as you remember and he still has his favorite chain bracelet around his wrist.

"You look gorgeous," he doesn't say it in a dramatic, hyperbolic way but he softly whispers it to you before placing a sweet kiss on your cheek, so close to the corner of your mouth.

The night has just begun but he's already succeeded in making you quietly hold your breath. You put on a smile for him and coyly say, "You look stunning in black as... always."

He laughs and it feels like to see and hear it in person, like you can feel the warmth that his laughs emit.

"Want to have dinner first?" He asks.

"I've had dinner," you answer.

The truth is, you barely had dinner because you were too nervous to eat anything but you did eat a nutrition bar in the taxi.

"This way to the bar then?" He offers his arm at you like a true gentleman.

"Lead the way, sir!" You say as you link your arm around him.

It's only a short walk from the hotel lobby to the bar Chan mentioned, the interior is rather luxurious, leather seats with a live jazz performance. He mutters something to the hostess, probably where he prefers to sit and she nods in response.

"This way, please!" She says with a polite smile, walking like a feline creature in her tight skirt and silk blouse.

You glance to the side to see if Chan is looking at the pretty hostess in front of him, but you find him staring at you instead.

"Is there something on my face?" You ask in slight panic, afraid that you have something in your teeth but he feels bad to tell you.

"No," he simply answers.

"This way, sir, ma'am," the hostess says, gesturing to the booth she chooses for the two of you, a little hidden in the corner of the bar to provide some privacy.

Chan gently places his hand on the small of your back and lets you take a seat first. You have a seat in the middle of the curved sofa and he sits right next to you.

"Can we order drinks right away?" Chan asks as he puts his phone on the table.

"Sure," the hostess answers, slightly bending down to hear him talk clearly, "What would you like to have, sir?"

"I'll have the... Boulevardier," he eloquently says with a slight French accent.

"Excellent choice, sir!" She comments, she then turns her head at you to take your order, "How about you, ma'am?"

Things have been feeling a little surreal for these past few hours your brain is struggling to keep up, you want to be cool and confidently answer the fanciable hostess but it takes you a longer time to process a simple question like that.

"I'd love a daiquiri, please!" You answer, ignoring the fact that it takes you a minute to come up with it.

"Can I recommend you with the Hemingway special? It's a daiquiri with a splash of sweet grapefruit juice and Maraschino liqueur," she eloquently explains, proving that she's not only hired because of her look.

"That sounds amazing. I'd love that," you say with an impressed smile.

After confirming your orders, the hostess left the booth and it's just the two of you now in this nice yet slightly erotic setting of the bar.

"That's a nice dress," he suddenly compliments as he's looking at your face, not at your dress.

The dress goes to your midthigh, it's white and tight enough to showcase your curve. It's long-sleeved but the sweetheart neckline exposed just the right amount of skin. You've been saving it for a special occasion and considering that you haven't met him for two years, you reckon it's time to wear it.

"Just something I had, you know, lying around," you playfully answer.

The drinks come not long after and Chan waits until the server leaves to initiate a toast with you. Your drink is in a glass with a thin stem so you carefully lift it with your fingers.

"Cheers!" You mutter in unison and clink your glasses together.

The first round of drinks went with a conversation that consisted of basic questions. He asks you about work, family, life in general, and everything in between. You must admit that your life is kind of boring but it's nice to know that he wanted to catch up on your life updates.

It's a little disappointing though that he doesn't ask anything about your love life or whether you're seeing anyone or not.

When you deem that you're on the verge of oversharing, you stop talking and shift the focus to him.

"What about you? What are you working on at the moment?" You curiously ask, putting down your drink on the table and leaving one last sip on the fragile-looking glass.

"I'm working on a lot of things right now. From a lot of places too," he answers.

"So, you've been traveling a lot," you remark.

"Yes."

That says something about his relationship status and unless he has learned how to be in a long-distance relationship, then it means he's not seeing anyone right now. Even if he is, there's a big chance that it's noncommittal.

This calls for a celebration so you pick up your drink and drain every last drop of it, delightfully gasping once you swallow it.

"Round 2?" Chan offers.

"Yes."

Now that you've made up your mind about it and from the subtle signals he's sending you so far, it's safe to say that he's up to do no good with you. You smooth down the hem of your dress and flip your hair to the back, preparing yourself to execute plan number four: Make your intention known.

As much as you feel tempted to say 'Chris, let's fuck!' right to his face, you decide not to be haste and go with a more convenient, acceptable way. You plan to be forthright about your intention what you want and if he wanted the same too so the two of you can skip the formalities and go straight to the fucking.

"Chris, I have something to tell you," you say to him.

He positions his body slightly turns to the side to face you and softly smiles, "You can tell me."

You've mustered up the courage and have the words prepared in your head only for the moment to be ruined by your phone ringing in your purse.

"Fuck..." you quietly mutter to yourself, you could sense your courage shrinking inside you.

The phone has stopped ringing but you grab your purse on the space next to you and pull it out to check the caller. A new text message appears on your screen.

Call me. It's urgent. Your friend wrote in her text along with multiple red exclamation marks.

It seems rather urgent, you put on an apologetic smile at Chan and say, "I'm sorry but do you mind if I make a quick call?"

"Not at all," Chan says with an easy smile.

You take your phone with you as you get up from the sofa, leaving the booth at the same time the waiter comes with your second round of drinks.

Finding the way to the restroom, you hit the call button as you enter and stand in front of the sinks, waiting for your friend to pick up while checking for your hair and make-up in the mirror.

"What's the urgency?" You say the second you hear the call being picked up.

"I need to borrow your laptop. Mine is suddenly frozen and I can't reboot it," your friend answers in a rather distressed tone.

Knowing that it's not the kind of urgent you imagined in your head, you let out a sigh of relief and then say, "Yes, yes you can use my laptop."

"I'm already in the elevator to your floor."

"You have the code to my apartment and I'm sure you know where I put my laptop," you calmly tell her, putting the strands of hair to the side and carefully dabbing the skin under your eyes.

"Wait. You're not home?"

"I'm not and I'm not taking any more questions," you immediately stop her before she gets too nosy.

"Don't call me for the rest of the night. Bye!" You don't wait for a response and quickly hang up.

On the way back to your booth, you see Chan enjoying the jazz performance on the stage, tapping his foot against the floor. You didn't notice the way he sat until now, his legs spread open, he's slightly slumped and his long arm rests along the edge of the sofa, plus he left the top three buttons on his shirt open.

Chan looks so hot simply by sitting like that and you're sure you've seen much hotter men but you really can't remember when.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and slide into the booth again, then slowly sit on the sofa, leaving a gap between you and him.

"Here's your drink," he says, handing the glass to you with such caution.

"Thank you!" You mutter your gratitude.

You're glad that you're taking the recommendation because the Hemingway Daiquiri tastes so refreshing, it's sweet and sour, certainly an upscale from the classic daiquiri.

"I hope the call wasn't something bad," he says to you.

You lick your lips after taking a sip, "Oh, no. It was my friend. She needs to borrow something," you spare him from the details.

It takes a minute to remember where you left the conversation and when you finally recall, you need to take more time to prepare yourself again. You immediately take another sip to quicken the process of building up your courage.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He suddenly comes up with an unexpected request.

Your throat burns from accidentally swallowing your alcohol too fast and you can feel your eyes get teary as well.

"Sure," you manage to answer.

Somehow the gap you purposely put between you and him disappears, he sits so close to you that his knee bumps into yours.

"I've been stalking your Instagram page," he shares with a shy smile.

You snort because he makes it seem like it's an embarrassing thing to say, but you doubt if that's true, he could be saying that to make you feel flattered.

"As far as I can recall, you've been abandoning your account until today," you say, hardly believing his so-called secret.

"That's because I'm using a fake Instagram account," he simply answers.

You snort again and roll your eyes at him, "Yeah, sure."

Chan smirks and picks up his phone, he opens Instagram to show the fake Instagram account he made and it only has one following, you.

"Do you believe me now?"

It's hard to stay calm when you find out that the guy who broke your heart two years ago has secretly been keeping up with you through your social media. You're happy but a part of you is still in denial.

"I mean... why not use your own Instagram?" you ask out of pure curiosity because it's not like you'd mistake this as a sign that he wants to get back with you. You're not that naive nor delusional.

"Then you would know that I regret breaking up with you," he casually answers like he didn't just reveal something profound.

You look at him to check if he's just messing with you and you would know if he's lying cause he's bad at it, but nope, he's telling the truth.

"And you would know that I've been struggling to get over you," he continues with glints filling his doe eyes.

There's an alarm going off in your chest, it's coming from the heart and it's telling you to be cautious, potential heartbreak lies ahead. You get reminded that you came here not to confront your feelings, you came here to get fucked, hopefully hard.

"And I guess you posted your boxing video for a purpose?" You ask with your eyebrow raised at him.

"Well..." he shrugs and slyly grins, "it worked, didn't it?"

As expected, this man has so many tricks up his sleeves. Better be careful as he puts all of his attention on you, his arm slowly makes its way around your shoulder and his hand is playing with your hair.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"No comment," You smirk and take a small sip of your drink.

Chan lets out a laugh, the sonorous one and the kind that makes his eyes form two crescents. He takes a sip of his Boulevardier which is an upscale version of negroni.

"I've been wondering why you stayed single for so long," he says with an underlying tone, implying that he's actually asking you the reason why. Also confirmed his secret stalking behavior.

"It's not that long," you reply, crossing your legs together as you flash him a sly smile.

"A year, isn't it?" He asks.

You groan and roll your eyes at him, "You really are a stalker."

"You can tell me," he playfully elbows your side.

"No. It's a secret," you refuse to share.

"I shared my secret with you and it's only fair if you share yours with me."

"First of all, I didn't ask for your secret," you defend yourself while holding your drink close to your mouth.

He leans to your side, offering his ear at you as he says, "You can whisper it to me."

He means to know the answer anyway so you lean into his ear and cover the side of your mouth, then whisper, "All the guys I've met, they don't have a big cock like yours."

That's a way to get his attention and escalate the tension between the two of you. You pull away with a devilish smirk dancing on your face.

You glance down at his crotch and ask, "Is it still as big as I remember?"

"If you're lucky, you'll get to find out," he plays coy about it and you find it extremely attractive.

Noticing that you've drained your drink, Chan waves his hand to get the two of you another round of drinks. Obviously, you don't want it to end when things have just started to warm up.

He looks at you and then glances down, showing his hand snaking its way to your thigh.

"Have I told you that it's a nice dress?"

"I don't mind hearing it one more time," you respond with a cheeky smile.

He shoots you a big grin while he's playing with the hem of your dress, feeling the fabric between his fingers.

"It's a nice dress," he compliments, then leans in close so that you can feel his warm breath brush your cheek as he adds, "And I want to take it off of you tonight."

You place your hand on his hand that rests on your thigh and play with his bracelet, "if you're lucky, you'll get to do it," you poke fun at him.

You can audibly hear his laugh in your ear as he leans in closer his nose pokes your cheek, "We're even now."

The third drinks bring the tension higher as the two of you relax from every sip and the gap between your bodies gradually disappears.

Chan has his eyes on you all the time, it's overwhelming at times but you like the way he looks at you like an animal who has his eyes on its prey and you like seeing the confliction in his eyes on whether he should eat you whole or play with his food first.

There's so much chemistry and tension here, plus the alcohol, you're only waiting for the light to turn bright green, really.

He gently brushes your hair to the side and keeps it there so he can plant a kiss on the skin behind your ear, knowing that it's your sensitive part of body.

"You change your perfume?"

"Yes," you manage to remain calm despite the proximity and the way he constantly rubs your thigh with his knuckle.

He drags his lips to your ear and asks, "What is it called?"

You lick your lips and make him wait for your answer, "I believe it's called Good Girl Gone Bad."

He tilts his head to the side and looks at you right in the eyes, wide and dark with lust, "How bad?"

You grab the collar of his shirt and tug at it, "If you're lucky, you'll get to find out," you get back at him again.

As he bursts out laughing with his eyes closed, you follow your intrusive thought to cup his jaw with your hand and laugh along.

"That's two to one," you remind him.

He stops laughing only to fondly smile at you, "Remind me how I broke up with you."

"For a start, you acted like an absolute jerk that day," you half-jokingly say.

The truth is it wasn't the breakup that hurt you the most, it's the post-break-up and his total absence from your life, he didn't call or text, or even send a pity email after that day. It felt as if he didn't want you in his life anymore.

Fuck. How did you get here again? Forced to face your feelings. Time to shift the talk.

"It's getting late, don't you think?"

Chan immediately reaches for his phone on the table to check the time, "It's 10.51."

"Oh," you plainly respond and finish you drink.

"Can I have your new numbers?" He suddenly asks.

You put down your glass on the table and answer, "I still have the same phone numbers."

"Yeah but I lost my phone at the airport and had to get a new one, lost all of my contacts," he explains like he knew you thought about how he didn't call you earlier.

Chan hands you his phone so you can enter your phone numbers and hand it back to him once you've finished. He hits the call button instead of saving it first and your phone rings a second later.

"Come on. Pick it up!" He tells you.

You obey him, accepting his phone call even though he's sitting next to you, "Hello?"

"Hi, it's future Chris calling," he says with a mix of foolish and sexy grin, you don't know how but he does it so well.

Curious to see where this talk is going, you decide to play along with him, "If you are really from the future, can you tell me the lottery numbers for this week?"

"I... can't tell you that."

"I'm hanging up," you joke.

"But I can tell you something else."

"Not interested," you put away your phone from your ear.

He glares at you, forcing you to continue playing along with him, "Hear me first!"

"Okay, I'm listening," you say with a dramatic eye roll.

"Future Chris says you need to go to hotel room number 103 tonight."

"Uhm... why?"

"You have to go there if you want to get lucky," he says with his tongue slightly poking out on one corner of his mouth.

"Still not interested," you poke fun, pretending to hang up the phone again.

"You'll regret it," he teases.

"I doubt that," you say with your nose scrunched at him.

Chan gets a little annoyed now, you can tell by the way he has his tongue poking his cheek and the fed-up grin on his face.

"Don't you want to get lucky tonight and find out about..." he pauses as he reaches for the pendant of your necklace and turns it over in his fingers, "the thing you're curious of."

This is it then, your intention matched his intention and the light has turned bright green. You take his hand and put it down onto your lap, then you slide your hand into his palm, "Okay."

"Okay," He says, holding your hand in his then brings it close to his mouth to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

-

As you're waiting for the elevator to arrive, Chan steadily places his hand on the arch of your back and lingers there until the elevator chimes open.

He lets you get in first and you choose to stand on the side, close to the panel full of numbers of the hotel floors and he reaches for it to push the number to his floor.

Should you consider yourself lucky that the elevator is empty? Should you be nervous because you're starting to feel like a prey being locked with its predator inside a small, enclosed space?

No words are being exchanged as the two of you locked in a gaze, but he speaks so much through his eyes, they're fiery, filled with so much want, so much need, and ultimately, desire.

After that much teasing, flirting, alcohol, chemistry, and tension, you've been wondering how the two of you managed to not kiss each other already.

It seems like he's about to make it happen as he comes closer to you, putting his hands on the handlebar and caging you in between. Slowly, he brings his hand close to your face and carefully puts away the strands of hair covering your face to the side, then tucks it behind your ear.

In this proximity, you can see how plush his lips are, how soft and full they are, and it's getting too hard to try to ignore. You look at him, telling him how much you want to kiss him through your eyes and deliberately blink to give him the unspoken permission to kiss you.

The heating moment gets interrupted by the sound of the elevator chimes open and a group of people gets in from the fourth floor.

"Excuse me," a man says as he reaches for the panel to press the number to his floor.

With his hand on your back again, Chan protectively guides you to take a step forward and stands behind you, he puts his arm around your waist with his hand resting on your abdomen.

There's a low chatter going on from the other corner of the elevator but the absence of silence doesn't make it less tense as Chan buries his nose in your hair, you can feel every breath he inhales on the nape of your neck. It feels hot and cold at the same time, making you tingling inside.

He then presses his mouth to your ear and softly whispers, "You're still using the same shampoo, mmh?" His lips graze your ear as he speaks.

Chan puts his other arm on you and quietly, pulls you closer until your back meets his chest, that way you can feel him behind you and his body heat that slowly melts you from the inside.

Quietly, he slides his hand down to the curve of your ass cheek and then gently squeezes the flesh.

"My God, this body..." he whispers with his breath tickles your body, "Makes me want to ruin you so much."

Is it wrong that you don't even want to hide it anymore? You want everyone in the elevator to hear what he just said to you and for a split second, you want Chan to fuck you right there and let everyone watches.

However, Chan suddenly lets go of you and you pout at the sudden loss of contact. Then you notice that the little screen above the panel shows that the elevator is about to stop on the 10th floor.

When it chimes open, you make your way out with Chan trails behind you. None of you look back but keep walking ahead with his hand resting on the arch of your back again, leading you to where his room is. His hand goes lower and lower the further you walk through the hotel corridor.

"This way," he says, guiding your body to take the left corridor.

Without warning, he grabs you by the waist and roughly pulls you with him until he hits his back against the wall, then crashes his mouth on you.

This is not your shared first kiss but this is somehow better than that. The feeling of your lips finally reunited in a rapturous kiss especially when you've been craving it oh, there's nothing like it!

Chan kisses you so hard, so deep, so passionately that you have a hard time returning it to him and breathing becomes a second priority to you.

"I've been wanting to do that all night," he mutters when he lets go of the kiss.

Still gasping for air, you nod and say, "Me too."

To your surprise, he turns you over and has you pinned against the wall this time, he pushes his body against yours as he seeks to be as close to you as possible until there's no inch of gap left between your bodies.

When he deems that you need to breathe, he lets go of your lips only to kiss you on your neck and you tip your head to the side to give him the free access. You let out a low moan as his teeth faintly scrape the skin.

His hands run amok, feeling you all over and touching you through your clothes, eventually his hand cups your breast in his. He kisses your lips again only to distract you from his hand trying to pull down the front of your dress and after a few tries, he manages to send your breast spilling which he wastes no time to take it in his mouth.

"Oh..." The moan just slipped out of your mouth and you hurriedly press your lips together to shut yourself up, aware that you're in a hotel corridor and the hotel guests might hear it, oh and also, someone may walk in on you making out in the hotel corridor.

He leaves your breast wet with his saliva when he lets go and goes straight to kiss you again, putting his weight against you and hoisting your leg around him.

It's getting hard to stay quiet as he starts to dry hump you, you can feel the friction of his clothed erection on you, big and bulging, highly arousing.

Hearing footsteps coming, he hurriedly fixes your dress and takes your hand, this time, leading you right to his hotel room. He swiftly unlocks the door with his keycard and pushes the door inward.

"Come in," he softly mutters, keeping the door open to let you in.

Once you're both inside, the obscenity continues. Nothing is stopping you from coming at each other and ripping each other's clothes. Your dress is the first to go then his shirts, they're lying on the carpeted floor now.

As you lips continuously latch with his, Chan swiftly unbuckles his belt and zips open his fly, he pulls his erection out of its confine.

Without breaking the kiss, he takes your hand and puts it around his hardening member. You gasp at how hot it feels in your hand, how hard it is that you can feel the veins coiling around his length.

He pulls away and looks down to see your hand holding his cock, "Is it as big as you remember?"

You suck air through your teeth and then say, "I'm not sure."

You start to slowly pump his length in your hand and look up at him, "but there's a way I can know for sure."

His eyebrow raised in question, "You do?"

"Uh-huh," you answer, leaning in to kiss him.

From his lips, you begin a trail of kisses to his neck and his chest next, then down to his sculpted abs until your knees hit the carpeted floor.

Something about kneeling in front of him and he's looking down on you with a mix of excitement and anticipation in his eyes arousing you in a whole new way.

In return, you look back at him, innocently blinking your eyes at him all the while your hand keeps stroking his cock in front of you.

"Can I?" You ask him with your thumb softly rubbing the tip of his cock.

He puts his hands in your hair, brushing your hair and gathering them in the back of your head, making a makeshift ponytail with his hand, "Yes."

Without looking away from him, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, then slowly, you take him in your mouth. You take him little by little and give yourself time to adjust yourself to his size which you think is somewhat bigger than you remember.

Wanting to impress him, you push yourself to take more of him but you're too haste and his cock hits the back of your throat so fast, triggering your gag reflex. You immediately pull away before you embarrass yourself more and look away as you let out a cough.

"Still too big for me," You say with a shy chuckle.

Chan places his hand on your cheek and tenderly caresses it, "Too big for you, mmh?"

You nod with your puppy eyes at him.

"But you're taking it so well," he coos, now wiping your chin with his thumb.

You wrap your hand around his cock again and slowly pump it, "Yeah?"

"Yes," he mutters with a soft smile.

The truth is you're not a big fan of giving blow jobs and you're not very confident in your skill, but he remains sweet and patient with you and you believe it's because he knows.

Chan makes you feel safe and comfortable enough to make you want to do it again.

"Let me just..." you don't finish your sentence but do it all over again.

You remind yourself to take it slow, regulate your breathing, and keep calm, it's even better if you can try to enjoy doing it.

To compensate for the rest that you can't take in your mouth, you use your hand and alternate between sucking and licking.

"See? You're taking me so well," he softly mutters, delicately tucking your hair behind your ear.

It doesn't take long for you to find your rhythm and slowly enjoying yourself giving him head, you're even humming in pleasure with your mouth full of him.

Seeing his reactions and hearing the lewd noises coming out of your mouth, encourages you to keep going despite your jaws getting tired and your knees are hurting from kneeling too long.

In between his low moans, he manages to mutter sweet nothings to you.

"Oh, that pretty mouth!"

"You're just too good."

"Oh... Too good at this!"

After a few minutes though, you sense that you needed a break so you slowly pull out and replace your mouth with your hand.

"You like that?"

"Very much," he answers without a beat.

He offers his hand to help you get up from the floor and pulls you close, hoisting your body against him knowing that you're probably tired from kneeling too long.

"You're getting too good, it's dangerous," he whispers to you with both hands cupping your ass cheeks.

You giggle and let him have your lips in him again, you're opening your mouth for him so he can kiss you deeper while he hoists you higher until your feet are lifted off the floor.

Chan carries you to the bed and gently lays you down on the bed, he removes his jeans first before joining you, lying next to you on the bed.

He brushes your hair away from your face and presses a kiss on your lips, "So, is it as big as you remember?"

You tangle your hand in his soft curls, "Jury's still out," you answer with a sly smile.

Chan glares at you as a grin slowly blossoms on his face, he offers his arm as your pillow and then pulls you closer to him, that way, he can comfortably plant his lips on yours again.

As he keeps you busy with his kisses, his hand is making its way down south and not stopping until it lands on your clothed cunt. He smirks against your lips the second he slips his fingers under, meeting your wetness.

"That wet for me, mmh?" He murmurs.

You coyly shrug and shoot him a smirk just to provoke him.

"Well, I'm honored," he says with his fingers tracing your folds and running it up and down your slit.

When he starts playing with your clit, you know you no long can keep your cool anymore. The cold that comes from the metal of his chain bracelet adds a different sensation to the hot and wetness of your cunt.

"Goodness..." you breathlessly gasp as he inserts his finger into you.

"I know you can take one more," he mutters with his mouth pressed to your ear, then proceeds to add another digit.

His two long fingers are inside you now, pumping them in and out of you, and curls them to find that spot that makes you—

"Chris! Oh, fuck!" You curse and grip his shoulder hard enough your nails dug into the skin.

He's enjoying it from the way his head hovers above you and peacefully observing your face, wanting to see all of your reactions to his delightful assault.

He has his mouth sucking on your breast now and the other is being fondled by his other hand, the other hand is busy making a mess out of you.

You're squirming on the bed with your waist upheld in the air and shamelessly arching your back at him, seeking more of him inside you.

Chan knows when to stop, he teases you enough to prepare you for what comes next. He slows down his hand motions and slowly pulls them out. He doesn't let go yet but keeps his hand inside your underwear, playing with your clit.

A moment later, he draws his hand out of your underwear and rubs his fingers coated with your arousal on his lips, "Taste yourself on me," he says.

Seeing his lips wet with your essence is rather arousing and you don't hesitate at all to kiss him, tasting yourself on him. The kiss feels exceptionally kinky and you thought you couldn't be more aroused than this.

Without letting go of the kiss, he hovers above you and props his elbows against the mattress, "Are you still on the pills?"

You swallow air before answering, "Yeah."

He places a sweet peck on your lips then looks at you, "Is it okay if we do it without protection?"

Maybe deep down you know you can trust him and it wouldn't be the first time you're doing it with him without a layer of protection so you find it easy to agree to it and nod.

"Okay," you say, also providing him a verbal consent.

He smiles at you and lowers his mouth on you again, he continues the kisses down your front. His hands tugging at the elastic band of your underwear and pulling it down as he continues the kisses down to your legs.

The bed quakes as Chan gets off the bed and he's just standing there, looking at you and your naked body for his eyes to lust on. You catch him inhaling and exhaling air like he's overwhelmed by what he's seeing.

"You're so beautiful," he mutters with a delightful sigh.

It would be the only normal response to get flustered under his lustful eyes, you look away from him and say, "Just get in here, Chris!"

He surprises you by jumping onto the bed, making the bed quakes once more and he immediately puts his lips on yours again.

"Turn over for me," he softly whispers to you ear.

Without saying a word, you obey him, turning over on the bed and getting on your fours, kneeling with your hands propped against the mattress in front of you.

Chan positions himself behind you and then with so much care, he puts all of your hair away onto one shoulder so he can place kisses on your back. His hands freely roam around your body.

In your opinion, Chan has the most attractive pair of hands, it's warm and firm with veins snaking on the back of his hand, and of course, long fingers that know how to find your most sensitive spot. Now, they're on you, going all over you and feeling you all over.

"I almost forgot how soft you are," he murmurs.

He then brings his hands to your chest to play with your mounds, he hums in pleasure as he sees your breasts mold perfectly in his hands.

"Like they were made just for me," he sighs.

It's like his attractiveness and his big cock aren't enough, Chan has to have a smart mouth too, a mouth that knows what to say and how to say it.

Then again, you're just a girl and you're prone to sugary sweet words like that. You look over your shoulder and smile at him, not expecting that he's going to capture your lips in a kiss.

He slides one hand down to your throbbing cunt again, making sure it's wet enough for him to penetrate. He gently pushes you to the front so he can aim his cock at your entrance and then slowly, he guides you to take him in.

"Oh... ah..." you moan, crumpling the sheet underneath you.

And you almost forget how big he is until he's inside you and you get so high that you blank out, you're there on all fours and merely just a vessel.

Not giving you another minute to adjust, Chan moves back and pulls his cock out only to push it deeper inside you. He then wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly while you're flailing against him like a rag doll.

"You feel so good," he whispers, his breath is hot and heavy in your ear, "So fucking tight around me."

He brings his hand down to rub your clit, adding gentle pressure as he's circling on it.

"I'm going to move, okay?" He says to you with a slobbering kiss on your shoulder.

Unable to form a coherent answer, you repeatedly nod in answer.

The sploshing sound of his fingers incessantly rubbing your clit intensify along with the pace of his thrusting. Chan either has his lips on your lips or plants them on your shoulder, either way, he does it to muffle his groans.

This is what happens when his hand and his cock joint forces, you find yourself on the brink of orgasm when all you've been doing is filling the room with your high-pitched moans.

"Oh, I'm cumming," you whine, holding onto the sheet as waves of pleasure surging all over you.

Chan slows down but does not stop thrusting into you, he kisses your neck and shoulder as you relish your orgasm. He keeps you close with his slung across your chest.

"Chris?" You breathlessly call his name.

"Yes, baby?" He answers your call and you guess the pet name unintentionally slipped out of his mouth.

Not going to lie, it gets you fluttering to hear him call you baby. You curve your arm around his neck and bring his head close to kiss him.

After a while, you start to doubt that the fluttering feeling came from Chan calling you with a pet name. You think it's because you're getting your second orgasm.

"What should I do, Chris?" You whine against his mouth

He breaks the kiss and looks at you with a concerned look, "Huh?" Chan confusingly asks.

"I'm about to cum again," you shamelessly admit.

Chan lets out a low chuckle and presses a kiss on your lips, "Then let's cum together, yeah?" he simply resolves.

He draws you close to him until your back hits his chest, his strong arms wrapped around you to hold you steady as he adds more speed to his thrust.

"Chris, oh..." you moan while holding onto his forearm.

His hands slithering around, one hand squeezing on your breast and the other wrapped around your neck. His mouth nests in the crook of your neck, grunting in pleasure and at times, sucking on your skin to muffle his noises.

"Oh, you keep clenching, baby," he mutters, followed by a broken moan.

That is probably because his cock is deep inside you, it's engorging and pulsating, filling you whole and continuously rubbing against your velvety walls, making the knot in your stomach tighten with each passing second.

Getting weak on the knees, you collapse onto the bed and Chan hurriedly holds you by the waist as he maintains the pace.

"I'm close, I'm close," you tell him repeatedly with one side of your face pressed against the bed.

Chan groans as he pushes his cock as shallowly as possible inside you, "Almost there," he says through his gritted teeth.

The previous orgasm makes you more sensitive than before and you can't hold yourself back anymore so you slowly let go and let the pleasure take over you once more.

Meanwhile, Chan hovers behind you and takes your hands, he holds them by the wrists then pin them against the bed as he restlessly thrusts into you to chase his high.

"Want me to cum inside you?" He asks, still thoughtful as you remember

"Uh-huh, yeah," you manage to answer even with your brain close to short-circuit.

Getting the permission is all he needed to get to his release. Then moment he finally come undone, he lets out a hoarse yet the most beautiful moan you ever heard, then lets himself lay on top of you.

A moment passes in contented silence and Chan presses a long kiss on the nape of your neck, then softly asks, "Are you okay?"

Not getting an answer, he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face to check it himself, "Did I go too rough on you?" He asks again with a slight concern.

You allow yourself to take a few more seconds to gain your composure and instead of answering, you foolishly grin at him and say, "That was so fucking good."

In response, Chan brightly smiles then pecks your lips, "No, but seriously, are you okay?"

You nod at him, "I'm okay."

After hearing your confirmation, he lets out a sigh of relief and then kisses you again, longer than the previous one.

"Sweet break?"

You don't expect him to say that after a long time, you smile and nod, "Sweet break."

-

Sweet break is something you used to say to each other when you need to take a break from something by eating something sweet. Like now, for instance, you and him taking a break from sex to order something sweet from the room service.

"Bad news is the kitchen is closed" Chan announces the second you come out of the bathroom.

It would be bothersome to put on your dress so you put on Chan's shirt instead, buttoning it as you join him on the sofa, "And the good news?"

He opens the food cover to show you what he got from the room service, "They're still serving desserts," he says with a grin.

The two of you huddle together around the plates of desserts and eating them on the sofa, filling the room with the sounds of your chewing and the dessert spoon scraping the plate.

It's fascinating to watch Chan casually eat his chocolate cake like he didn't just fuck the brains out of you a while ago. You let out a low chuckle and get back to your crepes.

"What's so funny?" He asks, catching you quietly chuckling to yourself.

"Nothing," you answer with a shrug.

He glares at you and decides to invade your plate with his fork, stabbing at the sliced banana and then shoving it into his mouth.

"Hey, eat your own dessert," you scold him but let him collect more bananas from your plate.

"But you don't like bananas," he says in between his chews.

"I don't like bananas but that doesn't mean I can't eat them," you say, but proceed to put the bananas to the side of the plate.

"I'm eating it for you so you only eat what you like," he says with a proud grin.

It's endearing that he still remembers little things like this. The sweet break, your dislike toward a certain and even how many of his fingers you like to have inside you. You can't help but wonder if he remembers other things too. His feelings for you, perhaps?

"Want to order another one?"

The two of you shared and finished the last plate together, even though you feel like you can have another plate, you refuse the offer.

He puts the plates away to the side of the room and returns to the sofa, lifting your legs before he sits next to you and then puts your legs on his lap.

"What's that café with the salted caramel cookies?" He suddenly asks.

"The one with butternut latte?" You ask back to check.

He gently puts his hand on your shoulder and plays with your hair, "Is it still open?"

Damn. He even still remembers that one café you regularly visited when the two of you were still dating.

"Yes," you answer with a smile.

"Man. Those are the best cookies!" he sighs with his fingertips lightly rubbing your thigh.

"I mean, we can go there tomorrow if you want," you casually say or you hope it sounds casual, it's a friendly offer.

He stops playing with your hand and cups your jaw, "I would love to," he says.

From the way his smile slowly dims, you sense a 'but' coming. Oh no, you sense a regret coming. You shouldn't have offered it in the first place.

"But I have to leave tomorrow," he says.

"Oh?" You try to remain unbothered and keep your facial expression in check, "Tomorrow, huh?"

"Yeah. I have to take care of a few things back home," he explains.

By back home, he means Australia and he'll fly out tomorrow, and probably for good. You hate that you get sad like it would be the first he's done it to you.

He holds you by the chin and slowly brings your head close to place a chaste kiss on your lips, it's so tender that you feel a tug at your chest.

"Thank you for coming to see me," he sincerely says with his eyes wide and shining for you.

This is where you start losing the objective of why you're here, you came here to solely get fucked, not expecting anything but his cock inside you.

Time to put some sense into your head and laugh it off, "Oh, my God, Chris!" You gasp out loud.

His forehead wrinkles in question, "What?"

"Yes, we can fuck again, no need to try so hard," you say with a sassy eye roll.

Learning that he's being pranked, he squints his eyes at you with his tongue pokes his cheek. While clutching his chest, he says, "Gosh, I thought—"

Before he can finish his sentence, you shut him up with a kiss because you don't want to keep talking about your feelings or get reminded of how things were when you were still together. You kiss him because you want to forget.

"You thought what?" You ask as you sit on his lap.

He licks his lips and shakes his head, "Nothing."

He's more than glad to have you sitting on his lap as it allows him to hold you close. His hands trail the sides of your body until they eventually land on your ass and then eagerly fondle them in his hands. Catching you off guard, he lands a slap on your ass cheek.

"Chris!" You shriek, abruptly stop kissing him, "That stings!"

"Can't help it," he innocently says while laughing and then pulls you close to kiss you again before you scold him more.

As a safety measure, you take his hands from your ass and fold them together on his chest but he takes it to his advantage, he finds another playground for his lewd hands.

Doesn't want to waste time unbuttoning it, he slips his hand under your shirt to fondle your breast, circling his fingers around your nipple before pinching at it.

He then lifts your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cool night air, and wastes no time to bury his head in between your mounds. He then pulls the shirt down and hides himself in it, acting like a toddler by purposely placing ticklish kisses on you to make you laugh

"Stop playing," you scold him with your hand tangled in his curls, "Let's go to bed, mmh?"

Chan pops his head out through the opening of the shirt and looks at you, "Kiss me first," he demands.

How can you say no when he looks at you with fondness in his eyes and a smile on his face? You fulfill his wish and place a long, lingering kiss on his lips.

"Can we go now?" You say the second you pull away from the kiss.

"Okay," he obliges.

He gets out of your shirt first and you get off his lap next, then starts walking toward the bedroom when Chan suddenly comes from behind you and hoists you up, looking unbothered carrying you on his shoulder.

"To the bed!" He announces, then slaps the back of your thigh.

"Chris!" You scold again but you can't do anything about it as you hang upside-down on his back.

The bed is already a mess and it seems like it's going to get even messier with the way Chan constantly has you pinned under him. He kisses your lips, softly yet hungrily like devouring an ice cream.

Aware that he has taken his turn, Chan doesn't complain when you flip him over and take it over from him. You're straddling him, rubbing his cock between your slit while he's unbuttoning your shirt open.

You find yourself wet for him again in no time and his cock is as hard as you need it to be, maybe this is why sex with him feels exceptional, the two of you are always horny for each other.

You let out a low, long moan the whole time you lower yourself on him and a seductive chuckle slips out of your mouth the second he's fully buried inside you.

When you look down at him, you find him staring at you with his mouth agape. You slyly smile and place both of your hands on his glorious pecs, "Have you always been this big?"

Chan licks his lips and rests his hands on your thighs, "And have you always been this tight?" He asks back instead of answering.

Being on top gives you the freedom to set a pace you prefer and switch positions as you like, more importantly, you can fully enjoy every bit of it. But it's working because Chan is such a great partner, he lets you have full control and lets you take your time.

If not using his hands to touch you all over, he has his hands folded under his head and quietly enjoying watching you fucking him.

"If you keep clenching around me like that, I might cum too fast," he tells you.

"I'm okay with that," you calmly respond.

To tease him more, you purposely keep clenching around him and rolling your hips in circular motions. Somehow you stop focusing on getting your high and start thinking about how to please him more.

"Oh," he loudly groans and his hand grips at your waist, "You're bad!"

You giggle in response while continuing to roll your hips back and forth in painstakingly slow motion.

"Oh, you're really, really bad," he says with ragged breath.

The sex may not be as hard or as intense as the previous one but it's just as good, even better. Maybe it's the unwavering eye contact, maybe it's the way he hisses every time you tease him, or the way he trusts you to make him feel good.

Whatever it is, you feel like sharing an intimate moment with him and you can't lie, it feels special.

"Are you close?" You ask because you're very close to your climax.

"I've been waiting for you to ask me that," he hastily answers, still able to joke in a heating moment like this.

You take him along with you to the edge and not stopping until the two of you come to your release, you keep moving at a sloppy pace to ride out the high.

Chan pulls you close, forcing you to lower yourself onto his body and accidentally sending his cock to slip out. You don't mind it at first but you can feel his hot cum dripping out of you and onto his abdomen.

You break the kiss and mutter in panic, "It's dripping."

"I'll put it back in," he simply responds, reaching down for his cock and slowly pushes it back into you.

Now that it's resolved, he puts his arms around you again and pulls you even closer until your bodies mold into one another, then kisses you more.

Without looking and breaking the kiss, he pulls the duvet and covers both of your bodies with it, ready to end the night with your bodies still connected.

"Have I told you this?" He suddenly asks.

"What?"

He looks at you with his brown eyes that looks like a nice cup of cocoa, comforting and warm.

"I miss you," he ever softly says.

There he goes again, making you debate whether you came here for the sex or to try to rekindle old sparks with him. But in all honesty, it feels good to know that the yearning goes both ways.

For once, you let your heart answer it for you.

"I miss you too, Chris," you mutter back with a smile.

And now you start debating if seeing him tonight is indeed a bad idea.

-

There's a wet, squelching sound when you first come to your senses the next morning, you feel like sleeping for another hour or two but you also feel the urge to check what that noise is all about.

You force open your eyes and find out right away the source of that wet, squelching sound, it's coming from Chan and he has his mouth latched to your breast.

"Morning, Chris," you croak as you brush your hair away from your face.

He lets go of your breast with a loud pop and looks at you, "Did I wake you?"

"Not really," you answer, putting your hand in his fluffy bedhead.

"I'm sorry," he says but not looking like it.

"Are you? Sorry?" You jokingly say and lay back on your pillow.

He slyly grins and shifts his focus back to playing with your mounds. He holds your breast up and uses his slick tongue to tease your nipple, alternating between licking and sucking.

It's normal to feel horny in the morning and, you find yourself already wet under there, you guess Chan has been helping himself while you were still sleeping.

Chan's head hangs above your chest and you can see how much he's enjoying your breasts, playing with them like a toddler, he even makes noises as he fills his mouth with your ample flesh.

"Aren't you leaving today? Shouldn't we get up and shower?" You mutter, softly scratching his scalp as you talk.

He sucks at your breast so hard and pulls it before letting it go, grinning as he is satisfied with what he just did.

"My flight is in the afternoon," he says.

"And I'd better go so you can pack—"

"But I already ordered breakfast," he whines like a fussy child.

"Well, we can shower first."

"They'll send breakfast at 8," he shares with a wild grin.

You turn your head to check the time on the clock hanging on the wall, "But it's hardly 7."

"Exactly!" He exclaims.

"Exactly what?" You ask in genuine confusion.

He buries his head in your neck and whispers, "We have an hour before breakfast."

Despite catching on to his intention, you decide to act dumb, "And?"

"And..." he inhales your scent before hovering above you, "I'll have my breakfast first."

He winks at you then goes under the duvet, and settles himself between your legs to have his so-called breakfast and it only makes sense that it progresses to intercourse.

Morning sex offers different things, it's the quiet, the peace, the slivers of morning sun shining through the cracks of the curtains, doing it with a refreshed mind and body, it's also the best way to start the day.

It's even better when you get to be a pillow princess, you just lay back and let Chan do all the handwork. He has your legs locked around his waist as he thrusts into you at a slow yet steady pace and in every thrust, he makes you feel every inch of his length rubbing against your walls.

"This is just great," he says with his face pressed to the side of your head.

"Mmh, what?" You respond as best as you can.

"I don't have to do cardio today," he says with a low chuckle.

This is your favorite kind of sex, do it by not taking it too seriously. Because in your opinion, other than it should be comfortable for the individuals involved, sex should be fun.

You kiss his open mouth and drag your lips down to his neck, then plant your mouth on his skin, sucking at it hard enough to form a hickey on it.

"What's that about?" He's rather dumbfounded instead of annoyed.

"Just trying to make it fair," you coyly say as you point to the blossoming mark he made on your breast.

"Yeah, okay," he says in defeat.

As much as you don't want the sex to end, it eventually ends but in a rather explosive, euphoric way. You feel like you've just been given another chance at life after that last orgasm.

"Who needs coffee, huh?" You sigh as you blankly stare at the ceiling.

It's a rhetorical question but Chan decides to respond to it anyway, "Not me, apparently."

Then you remember that he indeed doesn't drink nor need coffee to function, "Not you, apparently," you correct your earlier remark.

Chan carefully lowers himself on top of you and hastily kisses you, both of your teeth almost colliding.

"Thought I was still dreaming when I woke up next to you," he says, coming with another sentimental remark that evokes something deep within you.

You decide to push it further down and keep it there by saying, "Ugh. It's too early for that," you groan.

Chan weakly chuckles with his head nestled in your neck and just like the universe knows you need the distraction, the knocking comes on the door and it must be the breakfast.

You gently pat his head and say, "Now, go get my coffee!"

The morning continues with a quiet breakfast, it's obvious the reason why, the two of you burnt so many calories last night and need a reload.

Then there's the shower and you strongly refuse to share with him or else, it'll take much time. But Chan has an even stronger will and joins you anyway.

This is another reason why sex with him feels exceptional, the two of you are the same insatiable creatures.

The two of you dressed in silence and at times, catch him watching you, instead of feeling shy, you give him a proper show, bending down and wriggling your ass as you put your underwear on.

Chan enjoys every bit of it, he grins and bites his lips, tempted to come up at you, and goes at it again, but sadly, time is running out.

It's here, this is where it's going to end and you never know when you'll see him again, and that's even if you're still able to. You can only hope that he doesn't see how much you want him to stay.

"This is it then," you say, standing right in front of him in the foyer.

He takes your hand, loosely lacing his fingers with yours, "Can I still text you?"

"Sure," you answer.

"How about phone calls?"

"Booty calls only," you jokingly say.

He smiles and takes a step closer to you, you can almost see every moment the two of you shared last night flashes in his eyes, and it's achingly beautiful.

"Can I kiss you before you leave?"

You plan to make the goodbye as brief and as painless as possible but you don't want to risk losing the opportunity to make it a not-so-sad ending. But if you have to be honest, you simply want to kiss him.

"Okay," you agree with a nod.

You put your arms around his shoulders and let your body molds into him as he holds you close, you tilt your head up and close your eyes.

The moment your lips make contact, your heart bursts open and there's no way of stopping your feelings flow out of it so you let them be. You let him feel your pain, your yearning, and ultimately, your feelings for him that you try so hard to conceal, and then slowly, you pull away from the kiss before they fight their way out of your heart.

It's possible that Chan feels it too, that the kiss feels intimate, the kiss feels emotional, and a little close to the heart. He pulls you into a hug that lasts for a long time as if he tries to convey some unspoken messages too.

"No need to send me off," you tell him, not wanting to make it sadder than it already is.

Chan walks you to the door with his hand on the small of your back and then keeps it open for the final goodbye. You stand facing him and say, "Goodb—"

He puts his finger on your lips to stop you from finishing your sentence, "I'll see you when I see you."

That sounds like he indirectly promises you that one day, he'll come and see you again, and surprisingly, it only makes you uneasy.

You put on a smile and try another way to say goodbye, "Have a safe flight, Chris."

As you get into the back of the taxi, you get these familiar feelings and unfortunately, they're not the good kind. You feel like you went through the same thing before, you feel angry, you feel sad, and lost, and you feel this tightness in your chest that makes it hard to breathe. Then it hits you that it feels exactly like that day he broke up with you, this is the feeling of heartbreak.

In the end, you got your physical needs at the price of having to face your feelings and it all comes down to one conclusion: seeing him was a bad idea.

-

ONE MONTH LATER

It's like you're trapped in an endless loop, it's the weekend and you're lying on your bed, horny and bored.

Your phone is blaring with notifications and messages, you check and skim through them, they're from your friends or some other miscellaneous, you couldn't care less.

In other words, they're not the notifications you've been anticipating.

Chan has been diligently contacting you, sometimes he texted and when he's not, he calls you late at night because apparently, he's always busy during the day. The point is he always contact you by any means of communication.

However, for these past few days, it's been total radio silence. He's not even looking at the pictures you specifically posted to thirst-trap him. If only he knows how much time and energy you've spent just to get a single flattering shot of yourself. Ugh!

As you're about to spiral down, your phone dings and you consider ignoring it to spare you from getting disappointed all over again.

After a moment though, you cave in. You unlock your phone and get greeted by the very notification you've been dying to get.

What you doin'?

Busy running around in my head? He wrote a corny message and added a crying laughing emoji.

A week of no contact and that's the first thing he said? You scoff in disbelief and just stare at the messages, you've learned to make him wait for your reply and use the time to think of witty, flirty answers to his messages.

Am I running with clothes on or naked? You playfully ask back, giggling as you type it.

I think you know the answer. He wrote back with a winking emoji.

Let's hope I don't catch a cold then. You jokingly write in response.

You should stop cause it does things to me.

One minute he's corny, one minute he's cute, and the rest of the time? Hot, confident, and flirty, and you eat those shit up.

Things like what? You reply.

Like this. He wrote along with a picture.

Intrigued, you hurriedly click open the attachment and it's a picture he took of him in the mirror, wearing nothing but his white underwear. Your eyes feast on his glorious Greek God body, his sculpted abs and broad shoulders, and eventually your eyes flick down to the bulge inside his underwear.

In all honestly, it's the first thing that catches your eye because it's so fucking big and the underwear does nothing but enhance the shape and the size.

All of a sudden, you feel thirsty, literally and figuratively, and Chan knows how to make you keep swallowing air by sending you another picture.

The picture is of the same setting but in a rather different position, he's sitting on a chair, slightly slumped with his legs spread wide open and his hand holding his bulge.

Wish it was your hand.

Did he take a class on how to take good thirst traps and nudes? Because damn! Two pictures are enough to make you feel like an animal in heat.

Can I have it in my mouth instead?

Want to have you in my mouth.

Being straightforward mixed with the drooling emoji always works but what really does it is the one magic word: Please?

A minute later, there's no reply from him but your phone rings, he's calling you and you scramble to sit on the bed. You take a deep breath first before hitting the accept call button.

"Hello?"

"Gosh, I want you so much," He suddenly says, no greetings or small talk first. He goes straight to what he wants and you kind of dig that.

You giggle into the phone and playfully ask, "How much?"

"So fucking much," he emphasizes every word and lets out a heavy sigh after.

"Come and maybe I'll give it to you," you seductively say while playing with the lint on your denim shorts, "Maybe."

He chuckles and then jokingly says, "I'm on my way."

"Don't make me wait long," you play along with him but secretly wish that it's true.

You hear rustles from his end of the phone call and think he's probably calling you while lying on his bed but then, you hear the sound of bustling streets and car horns and—

"You're not really on the way, right?" You nervously ask, twisting the loose thread around your index finger.

"I told you, I'm coming," he coyly says.

Your heart skips a beat but he could be anywhere, he could be driving to work or you know, in a taxi in... Australia. Right?

"Chris..." you meekly call him.

"Yes?"

"Are you in the city?" You ask to confirm his location.

"Suprise!" He exclaims followed by a series of giggles.

Yes, you secretly wish that he was coming, but not now but not now and maybe, not ever because the last time you saw each other, things didn't end well for you.

So seeing him tonight is a bad idea, right?

"Why didn't you—" You don't know how to word it without sounding like you're not grateful for his surprise.

"I want to see you," he says, cutting through your silence, "Do you want to see me too?"

What should you do? You don't want him to come but at the same time, you want him to come. Oh, God, this is so confusing!

You want to lie so badly but your heart won't let you, "I want to see you," you openly admit.

"I'm coming so wait for me, yeah?" He softly mutters.

"Okay," you weakly reply.

"I'll see you in a bit," he says with a smile that you can hear through the phone.

"See you."

The second you hang up the call, you start pacing back and forth in your room. He'll be here anytime soon and it'll be just like that night all over again.

You almost jump when the knock comes on the door and you slowly walk to the door, just standing there with your hand on the knob, debating if you should ignore him and pretend you're not home.

The knocks come again and reflexively, you turn the knob and pull the door open.

There he is in a white shirt and blue jeans, the simplest way of dressing yet somehow, it looks incredibly stunning on him.

"Hi," he says with a sweet grin on his face.

His hair is slightly tousled, he smells incredible and those dimples have the power to make you soften around him almost immediately, they're your kryptonite.

"Hi," you say back, lingering by the doorway.

"Brought you wine," he says, showing the bottle of red wine in his hand.

You tilt your head to the side and fight the urge to jump at him and climb him like a tree.

"That's so nice of you," you say with a smile.

"Can I come in?" He asks, gesturing his head toward the inside of your apartment.

But it's a bad idea, right?

However, you find yourself nodding and you step aside, "You may come in."

Chan steps inside and you close the door behind you after. The second you turn around, he pushes you to the wall and crashes his lips against yours.

And you know what? Fuck it! It's fine.

-

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[coralinnii]

Congrats on reaching the 2.7 K followers milestone!! If it's okay to ask why specifically 2.7 K?

anyways I heard you were taking requests so I'll request something to celebrate with you :-D

I was wondering if you could do one where Idia, Kalim, Azul, Riddle rejects Fem!reader but ends up falling for reader after that, how would they react when they need to reject her and when the realization of them liking her back hits? (I tried to come up with an og idea but idrk if this one is actually good enough writing material :'-D)

 ‧₊˚✧ Waking up Too Late ‧₊˚✧

↳ Realizing their feelings for fem!reader after rejecting you 

feat: Idia ❋ Kalim ❋ Azul ❋ Riddle genre: slight hurt/comfort, open ending note: no pronouns were used but reader is written as a female in mind, reader can be interpreted as Yuu!reader, 

Question: Why specifically 2.7K? Well... I wanted to do something when I reached 2k but by the time I finished my initial wave of requests and WIPs, it already reached 2.7K ^_^" There wasn't a real rhyme or reason... I was just really late to the game

extra note: the joke in the start of Azul’s section doesn’t mean anything bad about him in general. It’s just Azul reminds me too much of myself during my younger days and I wasn't the biggest fan of myself back then.

Also, if anyone is wondering... I haven't stopped writing. I was just unable to find time for myself during the last 3 months because my classes and work didn't leave me time to do much outside of that. Seriously, I had assignments due on weekdays AND weekends! If none of you know who I am or didn't even realize I was gone... ignore me and have a good day ^_^

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

The Big Ooff

Regardless of Idia’s feelings before or after the confession, he rejected you in fear of change. He was content with the way things are, where he doesn’t have to worry about things like romance and relationships. 

Idia can’t imagine being the main protagonist for anything. He’s not the cool main hero or the handsome prince that gets the pretty girl. That's for the extroverts with high charm specs (a.k.a not him). Afterall, when does the NPC ever win? 

So when you, his friend and confidant, his solace and only exception, told him that you held feelings more than friendship…well, his system short-circuited. 

While the two of you said it wouldn’t change your friendship, you still wanted time away from him to heal the hurt. Idia agreed that the risky emotional roll dealt some real backlash to both of you.

The Realization

Idia tried to deny it, but he started imagining an alternative universe where he did accept your confession that fateful day. 

If he were to zone out during his level grinding sessions, he would vaguely envision himself in the same position, but perhaps with you lying next to him or even running your fingers through his flames. These daydreams would surprise him literally off the bed, his aforementioned flames burning a cute pinkish hue.

Some days when he’s browsing around online shops, he would occasionally encounter items that remind him of you.

Now, that in itself is not new but rather it was when he imagined how cute you would be if he got these items for you. Instead of your usual pleasantly surprised thank you, would you lovingly embrace him, maybe even kiss-! 

Ortho was startled to see his brother suddenly falling off his gaming chair, with his hands suspiciously covering his face. 

Crap, not only did he realize his feelings for you (which in hindsight probably was not surprising in the least), but he actually would like to be in a stupid lovey-dovey relationship with you. 

His Next Moves?

Continues to deny everything. So what if he wants a relationship with you? He can’t handle this new step even with these newly realized emotions. Plus, he was the one who blew his own shot by rejecting you the first time. 

So, he falls to his coping mechanism which is to deny everything and that he’s perfectly fine the way things are. 

When the two of you returned to your typical routine, he tried to keep things the way it used to be, as the same with you. 

Except it’s not quite the same. 

You weren’t sure if you were being conscious or that it’s been a while since you two hung out, but you felt that Idia was slightly more…attentive you could say?

He would give you first bids of the better controller before picking anything himself. If you seemed the slightest bit uncomfortable while sitting, the blue-flamed senior would offer you a comfier spot on his bed and a blanket if you wanted, before sputtering that he meant nothing weird about it.

He says he’s fine, but Idia’s is in no way the usual closed-off, sometimes cocky genius you knew before. He’s jittery, more prone to shriek and burst into pink flames to any of your gestures, and according to his little brother his heartbeat is slightly faster than usual. 

It’s weird…it’s like he actually acknowledges you as a woman…

Oh.

“Ahh, I seriously chose the wrong choice option. The story path…I wonder if I could still salvage a good ending…”

The Big Ooff

Kalim’s overly friendly nature, while harmless, is somewhat misleading and confusing to those around him. I mean, if someone threw a grand luxurious party for you, it’s easy to assume that you were someone special. Unfortunately, Kalim is simply just…too friendly. He would do this and more for just about anyone, no matter how special they may or may not be.

Nonetheless, you still wanted to tell him your feelings. You wanted to tell him how his smile and laugh hastens your heartbeat as you smile back. That you feel butterflies every time he extends his hands to you, coaxing you to dance with the boisterous Housewarden of Scarabia. 

To everyone’s genuine surprise, the snow-haired student sincerely apologized to you, not able to return your feelings the same way. All of your friends and also Scarabia was so sure that their Housewarden thought differently of you, but news quickly spread that Kalim never thought about being more than friends with you.

The Realization

To clarify, Kalim never thought about being more than friends with anyone. He’s happy to have so many friends, what more could he possibly want?

But your words did shake him mentally. He never realized that you would feel this way for him. On days when he can’t keep track of the lessons at hand, his mind would doze off and wander back to your confession. 

“Hastening heartbeat, feelings of butterflies, always wanting to smile when you do…”

The more he thinks about your love symptoms, he’s realizing how similar those feelings were to his own when he’s around you. It was why he would always try to find you in a crowd, or why he wanted to be your dance partner on any occasion. Sure, he’s happy to be around everyone, but he feels especially good when it's you.

The pieces are connecting, the clogs are aligning, and soon…

“JAMIL, I THINK I’M IN LOVE TOO!” 

“IS YOUR LACK OF INTROSPECTION THIS BAD?!”

His Next Moves?

Man is now a fool in love. He has this goofy smile on his boyish face at the slightest mention of you. Everytime he thinks about you, he keeps attempting to buy one or two grand bouquets of flowers for you, each flower as beautiful as you, much to Jamil’s chagrin as the vice-Housewarden has to keep reminding him of a crucial fact. 

“You two aren’t dating. Actually worse considering your prior actions.” 

Jamil’s brutal but accurate words brought Kalim back to harsh reality as he realized his mistake in not realizing his feelings soon enough. But not one to wallow in the past, Kalim sought to tell you his feelings just as you bravely did before. 

Whether I personally think if that’s a smart move is irrelevant

Whatever your response is to him, Kalim would fully respect your choice, prioritizing your comfort and feelings over his newly uncovered ones. Despite his well intentions and honest feelings before the realization, his carelessness hurt you and he needed to consider your healing process. 

Kalim would still act like a love-sick fool, however. Buying beautiful trinkets because he thought of you but won’t push them onto you if you couldn’t handle the heavy sentiment (thank Jamil for that). 

Though a little more sheepishly, he would still extend his hand to you hoping for a dance, small little gestures to make you smile even the slightest bit brighter…all this and more because “I like you” and nothing else.

Just because he’s slow in figuring things out, his feelings won’t change so easily. This special feeling of happiness, of love… he’s grateful that you taught him this whole new world.

"I’m a little much? Haha, sorry. I get really happy when I see you...It feels nice being in love with you.”

The Big Ooff

Please reconsider 

Ahem. Azul has grown accustomed to your presence. Perhaps even look forward to it throughout his daily routine, even assisting you in whatever trouble you always seem to get involved in. Some would accuse him of favoritism, but Azul argued that he was simply a gentleman treating a lady right.

He’s too observant to not notice that these sentiments are somewhat mutual. He thought of you as too kind and generous as to spend your spare time helping him around the lounge or to keep him company when the Leech twins get a little much. 

But he was surprised to learn that your feelings were deeper than he initially predicted. There was such sincerity in your voice as you confess your feelings that it shook Azul to his core and turned his human legs weak. 

However, he still had so many aspirations he hasn’t reached yet, opportunities he can’t miss. He can’t afford to split his time for something like romance, something that didn't register to him as urgent in the first place. Love is all well and good, but success is better and more tangible.

He’s careful with his words, gratefully thanking you for your confession and complimenting you with a list of traits he admired about you. 

But you should know Azul by now. He’s hyping you up before ultimately giving you crushing news. Like a company recruiter telling you weren’t chosen despite your apparent talents. 

You knew this, but it still hurts to have your dynamic treated equivalent to that of a business relation. 

The Realization

Azul understood you needed time away. Certain things were said that can’t be taken back and it’ll be a while before you two could feel comfortable around each other again. 

During this time though, the Housewarden truly felt your absence. He feels it when someone else takes a seat in his office where you usually occupy, when his mealtime feels less fulfilling because you weren’t there to enjoy it with him, when his headaches get worse from stress and you weren’t there to lend a comforting hand. 

This sense of void was like a stream of cold water slowly trickling into his body and mind until he felt heavy and almost drowning. What an odd sensation for a deep-sea merman. 

His mind became cluttered. He can’t focus on his work when all he could think about is where you might be and what you were doing. 

He reached his limit when he realized that he couldn’t even hide this internal conflict from Jade or Floyd when their keen eyes pick on every moment of his loss of focus, and they have an inkling as to the cause. 

…Dear Sevens, he might have made a great miscalculation on his own feelings.

His Next Moves?

First off, he’s going to spend some time in his pot. He needs some personal time reflecting over his own obliviousness and self-sabotage. 

Once that’s over, he now has to figure out how to remedy this. A plan to get back into your good graces after the blunder. 

He is a greedy merman. If he’s going to do something, he wants the best outcome possible, which is you forgiving him and accepting him while forgetting the past even happened.  

He’s read through countless relationship books, advice found online, and personal intel that his schoolmates were forced to generous enough to offer under an NDA. 

He’ll use the knowledge he remembered from your confession to his advantage, highlighting the parts of himself that he knew you liked about him. He shows off his good side in hopes to reignite what attracted you to him. 

If there’s anything to expose his intent with you, it’s the flush of his pale skin when you finally thanked him with that sweet smile he missed so much.

"I’m not one to lose an opportunity when within my reach. However long it takes, I’ll earn back what I’ve foolishly lost.”

The Big Ooff

Riddle was, in all seriousness, taken aback by your confession.

The studious Housewarden of Heartslabyul is definitely smart, but he’s just slightly lacking in the people-reading department. 

To him, you were simply a very loving person. He thought perhaps you were on the shyer side but always worrying about his well-being, making sure he’s taken breaks and to enjoy himself between his duties.

You were still a little rambunctious as lately you seem at odds with Ace as you’re quick to smack and silence the mischievous redhead who seems to snicker more often than usual as of late. 

Frankly, you left him stunned, his face similar to a deer in headlights. No textbook or lecture has prepared him to reply back to your sincere confession. 

In the end, he rejected you while giving his full honesty. Silly things like love and relationships were subjects he never thought to consider in depth, and he wasn’t sure it was something he wanted at the moment. 

He tried to explain the best he could, but you couldn't stop the aching feeling of your heart breaking. 

The Realization

Your relationship with Riddle took a blow but it was not destroyed. Albeit some awkwardness here and there, life flows relentlessly as usual. 

But that fateful day would occasionally sneak its way into Riddle’s mind during his spare moments to himself, recalling your determined face, coupled with his memories of your beautiful, clear eyes.

Nowadays, his heart would tighten, his throat would feel dry, and his breathing would be shallower whenever his thoughts sway towards you. 

Spurred by these odd symptoms, he finally looked more into the topic of love. The more he delved into talks on relationships, seminars on emotional attraction, and even tropes from novels, the more it feels as though he’s going down a rabbit hole of new emotional discoveries. 

For a while, the Heartslabyul dorm was on edge as they feared for their necks every time their terrifying Housewarden suddenly turned franticly scarlet out of nowhere.

Alone in Riddle’s room, surrounded by articles and books littered on his once pristine desk, Riddle found his conclusion; he’s in love too

His Next Moves?

Riddle isn’t actually sure how to approach you anymore. This whole “in love” experience is all too new to him. He couldn’t bring up this embarrassing topic with any of his peers, and much less with his mother (Sevens knows he doesn’t exactly want to replicate a relationship like his parents). 

But he couldn’t handle the sudden sensations of nerves that occur every time he’s close to you. He can’t keep up constantly chastising himself internally for flinching every time he passes a tart or a teacup to you during Unbirthday parties. 

He can no longer focus during his study sessions with you as he’s now fighting with himself as he dreams to hold your free hand or to brush a stray lock of hair from your endearing face. 

Was it as difficult to deal with as it was for you? Was this the reason you decided to confess to him? But the thought of speaking to you about something so intimate invokes nerves in him that he couldn’t understand.

No, he should learn from your example. If the natural progression of his feelings should be clear communication between those involved, then he will face this challenge as confidently as he does with any other. 

Prepare yourself, the stubborn Riddle has made a goal for himself. 

“I admit my inexperience has hurt those I cherish. Next time, I will respond to your bravery in kind.” 

[sigh-tofm]

if you’re a gym rat… (some 18+)

… price

- gets back into it. has always had a certain level of physique he’s had to keep up being in the army, but he isn’t the young sergeant he once was anymore. still, he usually jogs twice a week and lifts some weights when time allows.

- that is, until you start pulling him along. early morning leg sessions with the sunrise and lighthearted planking contests during the footie halftime. equally enjoys getting back into the workout game, spending time with you and getting to look at your body in the tight gym wear. especially loves the the soft pudge at the bottom of your stomach and the way all of you jiggle when you do burpees.

- showers with you after the fact. long, steamy showers in each other’s arms. no sex in there (you’re both sore and the floor is slippery), but it’s not necessary. you’re content with the hot water massaging your spent muscles and the feeling of your solid lover around you.

… kyle

- hypes you up. already spends more time in the gym than you do, so he knows every exercise and machine in and out. eagerly teaches you everything and anything you ask him about. never lets anyone else spot you, always does it himself. especially likes spotting your squats.

- follows your pace, whether that means exhausting himself for you or slowing down for you. will join you on hill sprints and long distance runs, but is thankful he gets to hold the stop watch and blow the whistle when you do beep tests.

- thinks the act of exercising together can be as intimate as sex itself. getting to observe and explore each other bodies, each other’s strengths and weaknesses. half of it is a mental game and not too unlike kink, he thinks, as you groan and contort your face while pushing your feet into to ground, tensing your muscles into the belt to help with the deadlift. he nods approvingly when you straighten your back and breath out at the top of the lift. ‘one more for me, baby.’

… johnny

- eggs you on. like kyle, always helps you go harder, faster, longer, but does it by way of teasing. ‘that all, then? come oan, ye had more in ye last night.’ always toes the line between encouraging and infuriating, but to his credit he also tricks you into lifting the bar one more time instead of putting it down.

- jogs become races and walks become dogwalks. johnny is restless even if you’re both coming straight from an intense hiit-session. if you’ve decided on a leisurely pace, johnny will run ahead and circle back, take detours to look at interesting buildings and natural features, and constantly weave left and right on the path ahead or behind you, like a border collie.

- does not mind the sweat after a session. will eat you out in the parking lot until the car windows fog up. eventually pulls your panties back up and pat your belly over them, only to drive back home and do it all over again in the shower.

… ghost

- never leaves you. you’d think he keeps up a pretty strict routine with that pure strength he possesses, but he will drop anything if you suggest going hiking or practice a specific form. nothing is too boring, basic or easy if he’s doing it with you. that includes yoga, where you are actually leagues ahead of him in balance and flexibility. the only thing he has going for him is his sniper’s patience.

- effortlessly lifts the bar up when spotting your bench presses and you hit failure. leans down over the bar to kiss your nose while you catch your breath. ‘look at tha’. i’ll take ten kilos off, let’s end this on a high note.’ won’t hear your protests about how that’s not how it’s done, and make you do another rep with less weight, to keep the muscle memory of perfect form.

- ends each session with you practicing grip, which is something you both need to work on, you’ll hang face to face on the power rack and simultaneously try not to laugh while also gripping the bar for as long as you can. having an excuse to look you dead in the eyes is simon’s favourite part of each session.

[exaflux]

How good is BTAA Scarecrow at therapy really? (An analysis) (Part 1)

So I naively thought that this'd be a laugh. Take the unethical psychiatrist, analyse his techniques, highlight what he's doing in real world contexts and give him a rating. After hours of working on this though I unintentionally managed to construct a theory on how BTAA Jon might approach therapy. Oop.

This part contains- a breakdown of some psychological approaches in therapy settings, character analysis/theory of Jon (in the conclusion), Jon being awful

Disclaimer- I am not a trained psychologist or therapist or anything of the like. I did study the topic under a teacher who was a trained psychologist though, and I still very much like psychology, so that basically makes me an expert in this field. This is a joke. Do not take my word as gospel. This post was written for fun and will probably have a mistake somewhere.

Harvey and Two-face will be referred to seperately in this analysis, but if referring to both Harvey will be used as default. Jonathan is Jonathan.

A-Level psychology don't fail me now 🙏

Session one/"two"-

The following all takes place in S2, Episode 5

The first section of our analysis takes place on March 4th and the time is 2:02pm, surprising no one as Two-Face is present. Jonathan begins the session by setting up a recording and going through standard legal procedure, following the “Code of Medical Ethics” (0:15) of Gotham. He also makes note that the first tape was destroyed, again probably for legal reasons. Good start.

Being that it was Harvey that destroyed the last tape machine due to a mishap of it not being the first session and Harvey refusing to perceive the number one, Jon asks him to elaborate- “tell me more about that” (0:56). Asking for more info on something a client has said often shows interest, which helps with relationship building, and on the mental health professional’s end would help build an understanding of the client. It has been established at this point that the session is for “introductory psychoanalytic examinations” (0:24), so that latter point is especially important. Killing two birds with one stone, very efficient. Whether Jon actually shows interest towards Harvey’s fascination for the number two though is a completely different matter. 

In addition, throughout all this Jon also gives terse responses, “I see.” (00:49) (1:11), to Harvey’s statements to indicate he’s listening and doesn’t try to weigh in. One-sided conversation such as these allow the client to speak as much as they need to, the sessions are for them after all.  

So overall, Jonathan is being very professional so far. 

At 1:21 of the episode is when Jon finally decides to give his thoughts (after Harvey has finished talking) stating that "The best way for [him] to help [Harvey] is to establish a bond of trust between [them]” (1:26), something that Harvey agrees to. Truthfully, another thing that is important between client and mental health professional, so his approach isn’t wrong.

Upon Harvey agreeing to this, Jon promptly demands that he be given the coin, something Harvey doesn't want to do. At being told that he isn’t comfortable with that, Jon points out that "it's not up to [Harvey]" (1:46) and takes the coin anyway through it's infallible decision-making prowess and the full knowledge that Harvey relies on the coin for all his decision making. He successfully gets the coin, Harvey is unhappy, and trust is established. But not really because Jonathan didn’t respect Harvey’s personal feelings nor wishes. Which is a breach of ethics. Horrible decision really. Jon places the coin on the table, presumably in a place where both he and Harvey can see it, and he declares aloud that it's on the table. In any other context this might have actually been a good way to maintain trust while seperating an item of emotional importance from a client, but such actions should only be taken with the consent of said client. 🚨 JONATHAN IS BEING UNETHICAL HERE. 🚨

Afterwards Jonathan reopens the session, “We meet again for the very first time” (2:06) as though everything said and done previously never happened. He goes on to ask the pair to reintroduce themselves. He notably sounds more casual here and upon hearing that Two-Face is older asks “Harvey was here first, wasn’t he?” (2:21) in a tone that doesn’t sound genuinely surprised. The question was most likely asked as a method to fish for confirmation or another elaboration.  

He then moves on after Two-Face is done speaking, very obviously not caring about the reasoning given for Two-Face's origins, to say that he heard “a horror story” (2:58) referring to the courtroom incident. Despite Two-Face's response being a positive one, claiming “That day set me free, like it was in the beginning” (3:11), Jon instead believes that the incident “found [Two-Face] in [his] hiding place” (3:17) and that he was hiding because he was, and still is, “afraid of what [he] would do without Harvey” (3:27). Jon weighing in should have ideally been avoided here. Therapy is normally approached with a mentality akin to teaching a man to fish, where the point is to teach a client how to identify and analyse their own feelings.

Instead of stating why a client thinks/feels as they do, a mental health professional will tactically ask questions in an effort to get a client to reflect. Jon asks some of these questions- “Do you ever wonder what if that acid had taken more than half of your face that terrible day? [...] What if when the acid had done its business, there wasn’t enough of Harvey left to do the serious work?” (3:30) which, in a way, counts. There is still criticism to be had here though as wording can passively influence how a client thinks. Describing the day that Harvey went through his incident as being “terrible”? Probably made Harvey view a day considers favourably as something more negative. Likewise, stating that Harvey could have somehow been lost that day from the acid in all certainty no doubt might have instilled some sense of unease in Two-Face. You should avoid making clients uncomfortable. Bad therapy moment.❌And then Jon follows these questions to Harvey up with another explanation, "You won't let it [cross your mind] because it frightens you [...] the thought of being alone." (3:50).❌❌

“Let’s try something. Bear with me” (3:58) Jon says next, reaching for the acid he inexplicably keeps in his draw. Upon being asked what he’s going to be doing with it by one (two?) Two-Face, Jon retorts with his own question, “What are you afraid I’m going to do with it, hmm?” (4:18) before pissing around with the acid and wanting Harvey to “Tell [him] about the fear” (4:29). This is an example of Jonathan being unethical again. Remember gaining the consent of clients of a therapeutic activity you want to do together is of utmost importance. Likewise, then Jon clarifies that he thinks that Harvey is scared of the “other” (5:05) attribute he acquired that day that wasn’t just the acid damage. Believing that tapping into this fear would cause emotional distress, he proceeds to dunk Harvey’s coin into the acid, destroying it. 🚨JONATHAN IS BEING UNETHICAL AGAIN, DO NOT DELIBERATELY CAUSE MENTAL DISTRESS TO CLIENTS OR DESTROY THEIR PROPERTY. 🚨 According to Jonathan himself he considers his actions “aggressive intervention” (5:30), but Jonathan’s judgement for considering this necessary can be called into question. 

Finally, after everything is said and done and Harvey has in fact been reduced to “a puddle of quivering terror” (5:10) like Jon predicted, Jon is again back to asking Harvey questions about his feelings and acting like a good mental health professional. He even reassures Harvey that he understands! Creating an environment of understanding and lack of judgement is important in any therapy setting. And, further playing his role as a psychiatrist, Jonathan in all his understanding of Harvey’s inability to make decisions anymore prescribes him with meds of his own creation. He explains what the medication does positively, in fluffy terms rather than anything technical, and gets Harvey to take it. While Jonathan is allowed to prescribe medication like this being a psychiatrist rather than just a psychologist, the fact that he starts tooting his own horn about how good the meds are, neglecting to talk about the potential side effects, and then makes Harvey take them anyway is, again, unethical. Informed consent should always be taken from clients before prescribing and a therapy session is an inappropriate setting to advertise your products.

In conclusion:

Jonathan takes more Ls in this session of therapy than he has moments doing his job in the proper way, and his approaches to psychological methods indicate that he takes those Ls not from any amount of ignorance on his part but from a blatant disregard for the well-being of his clients. He plays nice and uses correct therapy techniques consistently only up until he establishes a "bond of trust" by removing Harvey's coin, despite Harvey's feelings. After, Jon can be observed descending more and more into ignoring basic therapy practices; providing his own viewpoints on events, outright stating why Harvey feels as he does, refusing to explain what he's planning to do, eventually getting to the point where he's talking more than the clients during the session. All this happens until Jon permanently rids Harvey of the coin for good, leading to an emotional breakdown in the clients and a subsequent administration of drugs.

If I didn't know any better I'd say that during these events, Jonathan goes from setting up the session like any mental health professional would to gradually steering the session into the direction he wants it to go. Even moreso if one regards how he brings up the court room incident of his own volition completely unprompted (2:50) which then leads that into bringing up the topic of fears. Which eventually leads to dropping the coin into acid... Now this idea is insidious enough as it is, right? I'm sure this Dr Jonathan Crane is a well meaning psychiatrist, I mean he's following Gotham's Code of Medical Ethics! So here's also a slightly different perspective to all this:

Jon is speedrunning therapy.

I mean think about it- not even two minutes into the session and Jon basically forces Harvey into "trusting" him. This is only the second time that they've had a session together mind and trust is a thing that often takes months or even years to form between a mental health professional and a client. The chosen method of building trust was to remove a valued item from Harvey and one that he relies on, again something that takes multiple sessions to build up to and- as had been stated- is a valid trust building technique. After taking the coin Jon still leaves it in a place where Harvey knows where it is, just like you'd expect in a therapy setting. Jon even asks the pair to introduce themselves before deliberately steering things into talking about the court room incident which is the nexus point for why Harvey relies on the coin as far as he's concerned. Even him outright telling Two-Face what his fears are could be interpreted as him not wanting to spend months doing the standard therapy approaches that aren't even a guarantee for any progress.

In fact, Jon doesn't even attempt to destroy the coin either until the following happens in order: he tells Two-Face he thinks the court room incident found him and he was hiding out of fear of what he'd do without Harvey, he then asks Two-Face if he's ever thought about what he'd do if Harvey was unable to do much of anything anymore, then outright tells Two-Face he's afraid of being alone before then saying "Let's try something" (3:54) as though he's about to demonstrate his point, forcing Two-Face to acknowledge it.

"I think we had a breakthrough" (5:36) indeed. Breakthroughs are when a client successfully identifies something about themselves, like where a thought or feeling or bad habit stems from. A client having a breakthrough is the point where therapy can progress. And, hey, Harvey probably did make a breakthrough from losing his coin, though it was forced. This breakthrough led to being given a special drug. Which is something to be explored in a later part.

Of course though none of this really matters. Therapy is about treating a person as a person and "teaching a man to fish". Apparently Jonathan doesn't care about fishing.

FINAL SCORE FOR THE SESSION:

🎊 3/10 🎊

Jon is definitely not lacking in skills when it comes to psychology or therapy techniques, in fact he seemed decent enough for the first chunk before the session metaphorically drove off a cliff through his driving- intentionally no less. He simply lacks regard for the feelings of his clients and is a walking ethics breach. Likewise he took deliberate control of the session, and whether the end result was intentional or not this is definitely not something to do in a therapy setting. His approach to "therapy" may lead to breakthroughs, making his clients recognise the things he identifies, but it's not in the true spirit of therapy. It's doubtful that a client under him would ever learn the techniques they need to overcome whatever things they might struggle with.

...And this isn't even getting into how much enjoyment he seems to get from making his clients uncomfortable.

[sccpmccabe]

ᅟᅟᅟ tolerate it | alessia russo x brazilian!reader, duda sampaio x brazilian!reader

Summary: Everyone goes through bad times in life, but some attitudes can end in mistakes and sometimes there is no way back.

[AN: I'm working on some requests but I couldn't stop thinking about this plot, so here it is! This will be a mini series with two other chapters, hope you like it <3]

ᅟ The last few months have been hell for Alessia. The first blow was the crisis that their secret relationship was facing.

ᅟ During the World Cup you, the English striker's girlfriend, were feeling very overwhelmed, after all, that would be the first time that you would play in that tournament for your national team. As if that wasn't already a huge weight on her shoulders, every day her coach made a point of repeating the same words to the team.

ᅟ “Are you really going to allow the queen of football to retire without a world title with the national team? I don't care if you're young, old or what, you need to give everything for her. Marta deserves this and I will not allow you to ruin this experience for her.”

ᅟ Pia Sundhage was an admirable and successful woman, but she definitely crossed some limits and the most serious thing was almost completely taking away the identity of the Brazilian team. It wasn't news to anyone that Brazil was known for its beautiful, passionate style of play, full of tricks and skills, but since the woman arrived as coach shortly after being eliminated in the 2019 World Cup, things have changed drastically.

ᅟ Despite being a young player, you already had your fair share of experiences at an international level as you left the club that formed you very young and followed Geyse, your colleague and best friend, out of Brazil. A few years passed and while the other girl shone in Spanish lands playing for Barcelona, you enjoyed the contrasting experience of living in London and playing for the red team in the north of the city.

ᅟ It was during one of Arsenal's games against United that you met Alessia and it's safe to say that from the first moment you found yourself in love with the girl with blue eyes and blonde hair. To your surprise, she also ended up really liking you and at the end of that match you exchanged t-shirts and a small note came with hers and contained your phone number and an invitation to dinner.

ᅟ The rest was history, and a story worthy of romance books, by the way, but little by little the whole situation began to fall apart and you seemed to be the only one interested in putting together and pasting all the pieces of your love. While you fought for her, Alessia didn't even recognize any gesture and just worried about her own life and career. She kept it a secret and made a point of hiding it in a trunk under lock and key. Not even your family and closest friends knew that you were a couple and that hurt, a lot.

ᅟ You begged the blonde for help not once, much less twice or three times but she just ignored your messages and calls with the excuse of being too busy preparing for the competition, which wasn't completely a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. While all this was happening and your condition was only getting worse, your teammates noticed how miserable you looked, but they couldn't understand why. It was only when Luana ran after you after a training session that they began to understand what you were going through and despite the help that the midfielder and all the other girls provided you, you never managed to fully recover as a huge part of your problems was your secret relationship.

ᅟ The trigger came at the final whistle in the game against Jamaica, making his biggest fear come true. Brazil was out of the World Cup in the group stage and your heart, which already had some cracks in it, broke in half once and for all. Your eyes roamed the stands hoping to find Alessia somewhere since she had promised she would be there for you, but your search for her was in vain. Without even realizing how it happened, you found yourself kneeling on the field with your face in the grass in front of Marta's boots, who was trying to comfort you while you cried profusely. All the cameras were on you and the Queen of football, knowing how sad and meaningful that image was.

ᅟ Tears were still flowing from your eyes like a waterfall when you felt a weight on your back and two strong arms pressed against your fragile body. All the other players, both Brazilian and Jamaican, gathered around you forming a large circle and sympathizing with the difficult time you were going through. It took some time, but you finally recovered enough to lift your head off the ground and face the older woman in front of you who was looking at you with teary eyes and you were about to break down again when Duda's low voice reached your ears and you body turned to face the girl who held you in her arms so carefully.

ᅟ Just like you, Duda was also part of the new generation of players, she currently played for the best team in the country, the same one that had revealed you to the world a few years ago. You had many things in common, but for some reason she seemed to avoid your presence, always choosing not to stay by your side for long and looking away from your direction. At first you thought she didn't like you, but Luana and some other colleagues assured you that it was just her shyness speaking louder, however, despite all that, she was the one by your side at that moment, looking at you with so much affection that your breath caught for a few moments. The brunette offered you a welcoming smile before extending her hand for you to hold and get up, but noticed how your legs shook when trying to do so and decided to take the action of picking you up and carrying you to the changing room.

ᅟ The more time passed, the harder it was to face reality. Little by little, the devastating sadness gave way to anger, and from anger, to revolt. The local atmosphere was hostile and heavy, each player was dealing with it in a different way, but they all had some thoughts in common, you could have done more, you should have done more. Even in the midst of that chaos, all the players' phones were exploding with messages and calls from family, friends and even players from other national teams who showed solidarity in that difficult time. Despite that, it took almost an entire day for Alessia to contact you and when she did, God, it was disastrous.

ᅟ It took some time, but you managed to convince the blonde to meet you in person in the hotel room where your team was staying.

ᅟ "What do you want from me? I have more important things to do than talk to you.” She said as soon as she reached her room, taking off the hood and glasses she wore as a disguise. Her words affected you more than you wanted to admit and after closing the door and making sure no one had seen the blonde enter your room, you walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. At that moment it became clear that you should get straight to the point with her, knowing that trying to stall would only make things worse.

ᅟ “Good night to you too, Alessia.” Your voice carried a certain irony and the coldness with which you treated her was unusual. “Since you are a very busy woman, I will get straight to the point. I can no longer stand the way you are treating me and I can't maintain our relationship if you continue like this. I know you're avoiding me and I can't understand why. We’ve always been open with each other and you’ve just signed for Arsenal, which I think should only improve our relationship, but you’re more distant than ever.”

ᅟ The striker seemed surprised by your words since you never liked conflicts or more serious conversations like this, and, despite knowing that you were right, she couldn't help but mock you, maintaining an air of superiority while crossing her arms over the chest.

ᅟ “How many times do I have to tell you that I need to focus on my career and the World Cup, hmm? I thought that by this point in the championship this would have become very clear.” You even tried to interrupt her to better explain your point of view, but she didn't even give a chance. “No, you already had your turn to speak, now it’s mine. And, what do you know, you're right, I really am avoiding you because I can't deal with your neediness anymore. Lately you've been so unbearable that I don't even feel like having a conversation with you. I’m a world-class striker, I don’t have time to deal with your bullshit and your problems.” God, how her words hurt. It was hard to believe that the girl in front of you who was putting on such a narcissistic show was the same one you had fallen in love with and loved madly.

ᅟ “Oh, now I understand. So what you want to tell me is that I have to be emotionally available to you in your worst moments just like I was when the United fans turned on you but you can't return the favor because you are a world class striker?” The temperature of that conversation was increasing quickly, as was your voice, which certainly caught the attention of your friends in the next rooms. “How selfish you are, Alessia. I can't believe you mean all this, what happened to you? When did you become so stupid and snobbish? Did winning the Euros get to your head that much? Because a fucking title doesn’t give you the right to treat me like I’m nothing or nobody.”

ᅟ “If by being a snob you mean I'm a realist, then yes, I'm a complete snob. Don't you notice the difference between us? I was instrumental in winning the Euros while you weren't even able to help your team get past the group stage of the World Cup. And don’t be fooled into thinking that I signed for Arsenal because of you and our relationship, I did it because it was best for my career and because your team needs a real player like me.” The tone of voice Alessia used was completely humiliating and the cruelty of her words was so much that it left you speechless. Your girlfriend knew how insecure you were feeling about this tournament and in addition to not helping you with that, she made sure to destroy you once and for all. The woman you loved did this to you, and you couldn't believe it.

ᅟ The expression on your face was one of pure pain and betrayal, your throat was dry and you didn't even know what to say while the blonde was still in front of you watching you with that air of superiority, but when you got up from the bed she was scared. Your body language screamed wrath and your eyes shone from the tears you refused to let go. It was at that moment that Alessia realized everything she had done to you and how much her attitude affected you. She felt like she had been punched in the stomach and the worst person in the world, but now it was too late.

ᅟ "We are over." Your sentence was said indifferently, as if you and the striker didn't have a history. “Get out of here. I don't want to see you ever again” It was obvious that you were containing your emotions, and, in order not to have to deal with them, you walked to the door of your room, coming face to face with Lelê, Geyse, Duda and Luana in the hallway. They had heard everything and were about to invade the room. You looked at them with panic, not knowing how much they had heard, but Alessia was still standing in the middle of the room, shocked by her own actions. “I TOLD YOU TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.” Your scream was powerful and disturbing like a thunderclap and broke the British woman out of the trance she was in.

ᅟ She had never seen you like that. At the same time that you looked so fragile her body was filled with anger and she knew it was better to do what you said. She left the room slowly, startled by the presence of her teammates who were already there and noticing the arrival of others. Despite this, she had the audacity to try to approach you and say something, but Letícia, Luana and Geyse took a step forward while Duda pulled you away from it. The attacker seemed to want to insist on that, but the goalkeeper blocked her path. Letícia and Alessia were the same height, but the brunette's physical condition made her more threatening and firm like a brick wall. Fortunately her presence was enough for the lioness to give up on her plan and leave in a hurry, like a coward.

ᅟ Only when her silhouette disappeared behind the elevator doors did you allow yourself to give in, running back to the bedroom and, later, to the bathroom, where you barely had time to lift the toilet lid before throwing up. A few seconds later you smelled Duda's perfume around you and her hand on your back, trying to comfort you just like she had done a few days ago. You had no idea what her level of English was and how much she had heard and understood of the conversation, but regardless, she was there, by your side, again.

ᅟ You could hear Luana's voice, imagining that she must be explaining the whole situation to the other girls who arrived after the commotion in the hallway and as you thought about how horrible that situation was, you realized that in a short time you and your ex-girlfriend would play together on the same team. Suddenly the nausea was back and you felt everything spinning around you. Little by little you got better and finally came out of the bathroom, seeing all your teammates crammed into the room and ready to welcome you into their arms.

ᅟ It took a few hours and a lot of explanation on your part, but eventually everyone understood the situation and shared the same anger as you. They were all worried about what would happen in the future since you two are Arsenal players and would see each other every day in a matter of a few weeks, and that worried you too, but it was after a few minutes in silence that Tamires made a suggestion that made your eyes shine.

ᅟ Soon you, the blonde and Duda were in front of the door of Cris Gambaré's room, the director of women's football at Corinthians who was helping the Brazilian coaching staff. When she finally answered, the three of you smiled slightly and the woman took a deep breath, knowing that she had a problem to solve.

BREAKING NEWS: Arsenal midfield star Y/F/N will go on loan to Corinthians, the club that revealed her to the world. The team was surprised by the request, but accepted after some insistence from the player. She must leave for Brazil immediately and will return to Arsenal as soon as the South American season comes to an end in December.

[calummss]

Neymar Jr Drabble

masterlist

summary: cute domestic fic of dentistry student reader and neymar because why not

pairing: fem! reader x neymar jr

words: 650

a/n: i dont even keep up with neymar but i saw fans were starving in the ff compartment so i whipped this up. also who do you think will win the world cup?

It was a chilly December day as the midday’s light sprawled across your books that were piling up on the table. Every inch of wood covered with texts, essays, flashcards, books and tools for your study session. Occasionally chills raised goosebumps on your skin, layers of clothing and blankets not stopping the cold from affecting you. Yet you enjoyed days like these. As hard as studying was, the relaxation of being at home and enjoying your own comfort was unmatched. You were humming your favourite song as you copied the last of the page’s information on restorative dental work when you heard the doorknob followed by the swinging of the door that lead to your study space at the end of the hall so that you could focus better.

‘Decided to finally get up?’ You joked, your nose still stuck in your book paying no regard to the person that had walked in.

‘Mhmm,’ he hummed softly, the floorboard squeaking beneath his steps as he walked towards you.

Neymar’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling your back into his still warm chest, kissing your cheek repeatedly as you giggled. You patted his arm, turning around to kiss him properly.

‘You know, I’ve learned a lot of English since being with you,’ his deep voice sent vibrations down your spine.

‘Oh really?’

He spun your armchair around so that you were facing him. He lowered himself on his knees to be on your level, his warm eyes staring into yours.

‘It’s because of the lack of Portuguese you speak.’

‘I know,’ you protested with a pout, your hands finally letting go of your pen, reaching towards his face to cup it gently. ‘I know how to say some things though,’ you paused briefly, grinning at him. ‘Ainda me lembro do nosso primeiro beijo.’ [I still remember our first kiss.]

‘Oh meu deus [Oh my god],’ his face scrunched together the second you finished your sentence with a smile. A smile he so deeply loved. ‘That was so disgustingly corny yet adorable. Do it again.’

You could feel a warm flush on your cheeks as a small chuckle escaped your lips, ‘Ainda me lembro do nosso primeiro beijo.’ You repeated the same sentence slower, inching closer to his face as you spoke every word.

Heat arose from your stomach to your chest. His lips were getting closer and your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the first kiss but his presence made you nervous like a little girl.

‘Seeing you sitting here like this makes me realise how much I love you and how attracted I am to you.’ He rested his forehead on yours, his eyes still carrying the sin from the previous night. ‘But the images of you bouncing on my cock last night are still driving me crazy,’

Your whole body tingled, the feeling of his frame leaning on yours, as his arms wrapped around you felt like a sin. His lips brushed against yours; softly, passionately. His hands cupped your face as his lips crashed into yours, lips plump and smooth against your own. His arms found themselves to your back, pulling you closer than was possible. You gently grabbed his jaw, slowly pulling away from the kiss, deep down not wanting to break apart from him.

‘Don’t distract me,’ you smiled at him, his face still in your hands.

‘I love that you are studying but technically you don’t have to. You know that, right? I’ve got you covered.’

‘Well I’m not like that,’ you snuck a quick kiss before twisting back the chair so you sat in front of your notes again. ‘Now leave. I have an exam coming up and if you want to be my future patient who’s satisfied with my service, you better leave me to study.’ You scolded.

‘Of course, Doctor.’

‘I love you.’

‘Eu te amo tanto.’ [I love you so much.]

[skywalker1dream]

part of the stuck with the stranger series

Title:Unexpected Connections

part one | part three

note: hello, how are you guys hope you are having a good day or night, my day is fantastic so far I driking my second cup of coffee exams are coming and writing those fics kind of helping me to relive my stress (even tho I have so little time for myself) so this is part 2 of stuck with the stranger and I changed many things cause I didn't liked my previous writing and add plot twist too ( I don't know if it is a good plot twist tho my friend saw it coming mile away, but maybe its because she knows me better then I know myself, okay I won't bore you even more and I hope you like it <3

Summary: Carlos Sainz and the reader's romance takes an unexpected turn when it's revealed she's the little sister of Carlos's best friend, Lando Norris. As secrets unravel, they must navigate the complexities of their relationship. Will love conquer all, or will fate intervene?

warnings: none, I guess?

The first date with Carlos was like stepping into a fairy tale. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the intimate restaurant as you sat across from him, lost in conversation that flowed effortlessly between you.

"So, tell me something about yourself that I wouldn't learn from twitter," Carlos said, leaning forward with genuine interest.

You chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his easy charm. "Well, I have a secret talent for making the world's best pancakes," you confessed with a grin.

Carlos's eyes lit up with amusement. "Really? I'll have to put your skills to the test sometime. My pancake game could use some serious improvement."

The laughter that followed was infectious, filling the air with a sense of warmth and comfort. As the evening progressed, you found yourselves diving deeper into conversation, exploring topics ranging from your favorite childhood memories to your wildest dreams for the future.

Hours passed in the blink of an eye, and before you knew it, the restaurant was closing around you. Reluctantly, you and Carlos said your goodbyes, promising to meet again soon.

........

On your second date, Carlos surprised you by taking you to a local amusement park. The sound of laughter filled the air as you rode roller coasters and indulged in cotton candy.

"This is amazing," you exclaimed, your heart racing with excitement as you clutched Carlos's hand tightly on the Ferris wheel.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," Carlos replied, a smile playing on his lips as he looked at you fondly. "I've been wanting to take you here since our first date."

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, you leaned against Carlos's shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. In that moment, surrounded by the bright lights and joyful laughter of the amusement park, you knew that this was where you were meant to be.

The evening ended with a cozy dinner at a nearby cafe, where you and Carlos shared stories and laughed until your sides hurt. It was a night you would never forget, a perfect blend of excitement and intimacy that left you craving more.

.....

dates followed, each one more memorable than the last. From picnics in the park to late-night stargazing sessions, you and Carlos reveled in each other's company, savoring every moment you spent together.

One evening, Carlos surprised you by taking you to a quaint bookstore nestled in the heart of the city. You spent hours browsing the shelves, exchanging book recommendations and sharing snippets of your favorite passages. It was a simple yet meaningful date, one that allowed you to connect on a deeper level.

As you walked hand in hand through the quiet streets, the night air filled with the soft glow of streetlights, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the man beside you. In Carlos, you had found not only a romantic partner but also a kindred spirit, someone who understood you in a way that no one else ever had.

.....

But amidst the blissful haze of new love, there was a looming complication, one that neither of you had anticipated. It all came to a head one week later, on a race weekend, when Lando brought you to the paddock, and Carlos's world collided with yours in an unexpected twist of fate.

As you walked through the bustling paddock beside Lando, Carlos's familiar figure came into view, his brown eyes widening in shock as he caught sight of you.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone laced with confusion as he approached.

Before you could respond, Lando stepped forward, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Carlos, meet my little sister," he said, gesturing towards you. "She wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

Carlos froze, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief in the span of a heartbeat. His gaze darted between you and Lando, realization dawning on him like a bolt of lightning.

"Your sister?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "But... but I had no idea... that you....."

You watched as the shock registered on Carlos's face, his features contorting with a mix of disbelief and dawning realization. It was as if the ground had shifted beneath his feet, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

In that moment, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again. The revelation had shaken Carlos to his core, casting a shadow over the fragile bond you had built together. And as you stood there, caught between past and present, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held in store for you and Carlos.

.....

[deja-yu]

Autumn nights 3/? Blinding lights - Choi San

Genre: fluff

1.6K

Request: Ateez idol!San x idol!reader where they like each other but don’t know how to confess and are kinda scared bc of their career, but everything works out in the end?

Notes: reader's profession isn't mentioned, and it's lovers at first sight trope, and! I didn't spend too long on the repercussions of rumours/ a dating 'scandal'.

You could never really get used to the bright lights during the press moments. Repressing the unhinged fear in your mind that you were in fact not in the pretty outfit your stylist helped you into earlier and instead a towel. When a smile makes it onto your face at the thought the lights seem to increase to a strobe like level. It wasn’t often you got to attend events with such a wide variety of people, there were fashion editors, singers, actors, whoever managed to impress the hosts enough to be invited. On your way from the red-carpet photo-opt for the press to the entrance of the event, you smile at your fans. When scanning the crowd your eyes land on a picket of Hongjoong, was he also attending? Your heart skips a beat, alone or with the others? With San? Ever since you got invited alongside San to a gameshow you were crushing on him like crazy.

Your mind goes back to how you got paired together as the guest team, playing games together to try and beat the other teams. After shooting the introduction and first couple games you had a break, not being sure how to socialize with everyone you sat alone in your changing room. San had knocked on the open door and came to your side with a sweet smile when you invited him inside, “You want to go have lunch with me?”. Your heart fluttered as you took the hand that he was holding out for him. You had so much fun with him over lunch, being able to connect with him when you didn’t have to worry about your words or actions. The last games had been even more fun, being able to interact with San a lot more comfortable after getting to know him a little. During the games the hosts kept teasing the two of you looked like a couple with how San kept taking care of you. When going through a haunted maze section, he was visibly scared but never let go of your hand or made you go first. After the show both your fans teased that it seemed like love at first sight, but of course there were also negative comments. You had to post to your socials how fun filming was and thanking San for looking out for you throughout the games but add don’t worry guys he is still all yours. You later saw a snippet from a live he did, “oh the show was really fun, me and y/n got along really well! I wish we could meet again without people getting upset” you chuckled at the deadpanned look he sent towards the camera.

Inside the venue was large and you felt your heart sink, you usually had your stylist or assistant with you. But you couldn’t find them between the horde of other staff waiting. After texting back and forth you would just find them later. Taking a breath, you raise your head and square your shoulders, making your way through the event and giving everyone you locked eyes with a friendly smile and wave. There was a party in one hall, and a calmer socializing hall, but you quickly found yourself in the art exhibition. It was a lot calmer and the people you ran into were either there for the same reasons (to recharge a little) or have a scandal worthy make-out session in the adjacent empty rooms. Not that you saw anything, TMZ doesn’t pay you enough to live with the guilt of ruining someone’s life.

“Y/N?” you take your eyes of the art piece in front of you to turn around. Meeting the eyes of a beautifully dressed San. His hair was slicked up and away from his face but one strand was either stubborn or perfectly styled to stick out just right. Butterflies burst in your stomach and you smile while muttering a Hi. He grins at you and strides across the room to meet you. “Thought I saw you! Look at you” he takes a step back and gives you a look over, you jokingly do a little twirl and he lets out ohh and wahh’s to fuel your ego. You grin at him shoving him lightly to shut him up. “How are you?” you question, “I loved your album by the way!” his eyebrows raise but you miss the way his ears turn pink. He stammers for a second before clearing his throat “Did you see the music video?” laughing you say of course! “What did you think of my part?” puppy eyes on you as you fake ponder for a moment. “I’d say it was pretty hot. But I prefer you not all beat up” taking your turn to give him a good look over, “This is more my style” your heart was beating at a ridiculous pace but the few drinks you downed on your way here gave you that little extra confidence. “Yeah?” raising an eyebrow while he smirks.

You both turn to look at the entrance of the room, a group of people slowly coming into the previous empty room. Your heart drops a little and you automatically take a step away from San. When you look up at him, his eyes are already on you but you can’t read his expression. You gasp when he leans in close, whispering in your ear “Tipton hotel, room 325. Let’s have dinner together this time”. He pulls away with a smile “I’ll go find my members now, have a lovely evening Y/N”, giving you a small nod before walking out of the room. As if he didn’t leave goosebumps all over your neck and leave you stunned in silence.  Composing yourself you eventually leave and find your way to the party, socializing some more but you don’t see San anywhere or any of the other ATEEZ members.

You check yourself in the elevator mirror once more, you had changed since you left the party opting for something a little bit more comfortable. You didn’t have the chance to tell San you were staying in the same hotel. Which made it a lot easier because you wondered how he thought you would get into his hotel without the security assuming you were just another crazy fan. You had ordered some fast food and you hoped it was enough, making sure to order for his members too. Not one to make bad first impressions. The hallway was similar to your floor and you felt your hands get sweaty as you made your way to room 325. Standing before the door in silent contemplation before finally knocking on the door. Which proved more difficult with your hands full so you just kicked your foot against the frame. Cringing at the loud thuds. The door opened wordlessly and you were greeting with San already walking back into the room, his words ring clear though “I swear Wooyoung , they might still show up!”, his figure disappears as he turns into the bedroom. And you stand frozen to your spot, glancing down either side of the hallway before taking a step inside. “Why are you not saying anything? Have you run out of jokes?” you jump slightly when San reappears in the small hallway. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise and his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water “Y/N?”.

“I brought dinner” you hold up the bags, trying to sound casual but the shakiness in your voice is hard to hide. “Oh yes, come in!” It always surprises you how fast he is, taking the bags from your hands and kicking the door shut. Your shaky hands take off your coat and shoes before you follow him into the room. “You got a lot” a small snort comes from him “Oh, yes, because of your members I wanted to make sure it was enough” he hums before turning to you with a sly look “But you came for me right?” rolling your eyes you suck your teeth, “Actually I haven’t told you but Hongjoong is my bias”. He laughs as your words, “You can’t lie to me” sending him a challenging look you decide to tease him so more, “After spending 20 hours in total with me, you can tell when I lie?”. You take a step back when he comes closer, you bump into the bed but manage to catch yourself from falling. Trying to keep your though act up but it was crumbling fast under his eyes.

“I can’t tell. But…” He hesitates for a moment before his hand cups your face. “I am taking my chances” his eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes. “We’ll get in trouble” you whisper and he nods “Yes, but I don’t think I can stay out of trouble when it comes to you. But if you want… I’ll stop” his breath mingles with yours in the small space between you. You want to run away but something about San roots you to your spot. Because ever since you first met, it was like a rope was tied between you, constantly tugging you to him. So you blame that same rope when you find yourself slowly leaning in, lips meeting shortly before you both pull away. And then, with newfound hunger your hands are tugging him closer, his hands finding your waist. Even as you stumble and fall on the bed, his touch never leaves you. Lips finding your neck, your breath heavy as he grunts softly. When he moves back to your face you tangle your hands in his hair, tugging to stop him before kissing you again. “Are you sure?” he nods with a laugh “It can be our secret for now” smiling at his words you nod, releasing your grip so his lips can meet yours again.

[aluria-sevhex]

so now i'm in Act 3 i guess

notes:

-methinks Siffrin is panicking

-plot twist: you can't escape the time loop until you deal with your... ???

-no you little bitch don't pretend everything's fine that's not good for your mental health

-YOU *KNEW* THIS WOULD HAPPEN??? FUCK YOU LOOP

-i'm not giving up you little shit

-ok Loop what IS your deal. you *asked* to be here???

-ok i need to help Mira with her mysterious papers

-:O A HINT AT ODILE'S FIELD OF STUDY

-the music is more unnerving than it was in Act 2. also it sounds glitchy now

-oh it's normal now. was i just suffering from an actual audio glitch and just. didn't question it? like "oh yeah ofc it's glitching things are fucked now"

-...that enemy didn't spawn down here in Act 2.

-eh ima get off for the night

-late in the evening on July 4th and i am back yippee this is probably a bad idea considering how long my play sessions get

-YEAH THE TITLE MUSIC MY BELOVED

-ok i can't help Bonnie on this loop- HOLD UP. DID SIF'S ART CHANGE IN THE MENUS? YEAH HE'S NOT SMUG ANYMORE ToT also i think their profile used to say "It's you!" with an exclamation point but now it says "It's you." with a period :(

-rip my darling blorbo Paper α V

-side note: idk if i've mentionwd this before but i like how the levels, stats, and skills all show the fact that you're near the end of the journey (ex. Odile having Rock, Paper, and Scissors III at the start)

-I FOUND THE BOOK BONNIE WAS LOOKING AT.

hmmm... death rituals...

-hehe i found the stostorage roomoom

-NONE OF THESE BARRELS WILL LEMME TAKE THE NUTS >:(

-another book in the headache-inducing language i can't read.

-weird shit going on: Siffrin, Loop, the King, the disappearing island, the headache-inducing shit

-hehehe yeah Isa i'm sure you'd *love* to pet your taciturn hopeful-future-partner

-it's not just the menu art i think Siffrin's battle art is also less happy. :(

-HOLD UP. also! Siffrin's profile used to call them the Traveler but now he's called the Wanderer. :(

-hehe. Sif hit the counter and said nya again. cat Sif

-this enemy ALSO did not spawn on this floor before. fucking giant hand thing

-ok thinking: can't help Isa until i've helped everybody else in one loop, can't help Bonnie on this loop and i need to prove i know them via their favorite foods, need to help Mira and Odile...

-thank you Loop for being available- OH I CAN BRING UP THE SADNESSES BEING DIFFERENT :O

-ok need to help Mira with the papers. some are in her dorm. Odile wants to read a familytale. i'll have to find one in the library or secret library. need to find out Bonnie's favorite foods by trying different ones. maybe i should loop forward a bunch to different areas, find out their favorite foods, and THEN do the big loop where i help everybody!

-i need to talk to the King eventually

-looping forward to Floor 1's end

-fun fact i'm keeping track of all my causes of death in another note. i'll share it when i finish the game

-man i also need to figure out how to help Mira's fan and remember where the last book issue is...

-the looping screen art is nice :]

-yeah yeah i need to beat this asshole to get to the snacks

-hold up. the coin fell on heads this time. strange...

-last time i picked plantain chips. this time i'm picking cookies. would probably be good to check what Bonnie eats each time

-ok they like rice. time to loop forward!

-while i'm on Floor 2 i might as well find a familytale for Odile...

-LOOP 24? THE MATH DOES NOT CHECK OUT.

-WAIT THE GAME ACKNOWLEDGES IT. HUH. YEAH I SHOULD BE ON 23. SIFFRIN IS SUS 𐐘

-fuck. i accidentally moved forwards when i meant to go to the library. it's fine i'l help her when i help everybody

-oh great i have to fight these assholes again.

-fuck. i think i fucked up and didn't make sure Mira had Pretty Moving Cure. i might get a game over.

-this is by far my dumbest death

-LOOP 27??? I WENT FROM 24-27

-gonna try to be less liberal with loop usage because the skipping is kinda scaring me

-aw... Siffrin's friends try not to touch him as they squeeze through that's nice... wait. he seems to not be remembering why. did he forget that they don't like being touched... maybe. maybe i should call Loop.

-well that was unhelpful

-time to adjust the memories i have equipped. welcome back my lovely scrimbly blorbos Lovely Moving Cure and Paper α V

-hm. ok so the boulanger in Dormont has a familytale...

-oh my god we're discussing colors. what happened to them.

-THEY STILL EXIST. BUT WE FORGOT HOW TO SEE THEM. ???

-*SIFFRIN*. HOW IS THIS FAMILIAR. JFC YOU ARE SUS

-plot twist! Siffrin is from our world and forgor that he got isekai'd! :P (i love making random bullshit predictions it's very entertaining)

-oh yeah so RE: Siffrin's altered art: Sif's time-frozen portrait used to look panicked but now it looks calm

-hehe openphrase123 worked

-love Sif's habit of picking up random shiny shit. magpie or crow behavior.

-oh? Siffrin didn't always hate croissants?

...bruh.

-also damn shout-out to Mira's crisis over not knowing some of the people

-the combination of Siffrin's silly attack names and serious battle portraits feels so *wrong*

-:o Sif learned a new skill

-ok i'm gonna log off for the night

hey if you wanna read all of my posts as i play through ISAT, they are all tagged as #Aluria plays ISAT for the first time (please don't spoil)

bruh when i was making this post i accidentslly pasted the notes again there instead of pasting the tag name. that truly was. delightful. to go through and delete it all

also shout-out to those of you who i keep seeing popping up in my notifs liking these posts ;) and also anybody who takes the time to read all this stuff :D i know that *i* like seeing other people's reactions when they experience stuff i like for the first time so i'm very happy to provide that for others! also it's nice to see some of the responses ^-^ :D

[utilitycaster]

Level Up: Bells Hells Level 12

As always: are there errors or major omissions? Let me know! Your preferred feat or spell isn’t listed? That’s because it’s not my preferred feat or spell, and you should make your own post for your own preferences! Additionally, because level-ups are no longer done at the end of sessions but are rather their own separate videos, I now include speculation for the next level(s) since there’s often very little time to speculate on the current level.

Chetney: He could take another rogue level, as Fearne has, but I think leveling in blood hunter is by far the wiser choice, though Travis does have the rare carte blanche for being good at mechanics award I just made up. Anyway, rogue would give him cunning action, but blood hunter is a big one: hemocraft die goes up to d8, unarmed strike bonus goes up to +2, and he not only gains another use of hybrid transformation per rest but also can now regenerate a small number of hit points at the start of each turn while injured, which will improve his already impressive tanking prowess. Looking forward: I think he should stick to the single rogue level, honestly, and keep leveling in blood hunter. 12 is an ASI level, so: ASI to strength, int, or con, all key stats, would be best in my opinion. He could even out his wisdom score, but also he's rarely been badly afflicted with bloodlust and this party does not lack for wisdom but does need all the int, str, and stacks of HP it can get.

Laudna: You've already seen my thoughts on sorlock before (if you haven't, basically: I think it's not as strong as people think) so this is a bit tough to optimize. Anyway, warlock 4 is a very narratively valid choice if Marisha wanted to level in order to indicate the impact returning to Delilah has had. It would grant her an ASI/feat, another spell, and another cantrip. Personally, I am once again asking Bells Hells to get some intelligence; as a warlock base Laudna's WIS save is already pretty solid, though a DEX bonus wouldn't hurt her either. I don't actually have a ton of feats in mind since she came in with a bunch of feats. Meanwhile, if she continues in sorcerer, level 9 is something of a milestone level and grants access to 5th level spells (and a new known spell) in addition to the usual sorcery point increase. Ultimately this is a tough choice - I think sorcerer is the superior choice mechanically, but warlock might make more sense in-story. Looking forward: really dependent on which path she takes, honestly, but if she does level in warlock I think she should level in sorcerer next. [Note from JUST NOW: she's taking sorcerer; place your level 5 spell bets now]

FCG: It's an ASI level for the non-multiclassers of the group, and: Wisdom. Up wisdom. I don't care if it's a +1 feat or a +2 ASI, either are valid, but increase wisdom. Last time I mentioned skill expert and observant as options; skill expert is I think the better choice since Orym has observant covered. Looking forward: it's a quiet but powerful time for clerics; level 13 grants seventh level spells and pals, all of them are bangers. Plane Shift and Resurrection are the famous ones, but Fire Storm? Divine Word? Etherealness? Symbol? Not a dud in the bunch.

Fearne: She took rogue last time so I do hope she takes a druid level, because cauterizing flames seems thematically appropriate with the shard and with embracing her power -both its healing and harmful sides - and also it's a fantastic ability. If she does take rogue, I feel like thief is the subclass that makes most sense because in combat, she's going to be relying on druid powers, and thief provides some great out-of-combat utility (and is generally an underrated rogue class). Looking forward: I do like the idea of thief Fearne, but also, level 11 is when she gets Transport via Plants, which is pretty key. Level 11 has a bunch of other great druid spells, as fans of Keyleth during the Briarwoods arc would know: Heal and Heroes' Feast both overlap with FCG's abilities but it doesn't hurt to have access to both; giving Fearne Conjure Fey is particularly funny; Sunbeam rules and she's done great things with Daylight; and Bells Hells is already learning the value of Wind Walk.

Imogen: ASI level and I say even out your stats: + 1 each to INT and WIS. She has a lot of feats already and the only one that I think makes sense to take now is War Caster, but right now she does not have a great wisdom save bonus and again, even a +1 to INT wouldn't hurt (plus she is, iirc, proficient in investigation, making her better at it than anyone but Chetney, so another point in that won't hurt in this part). Looking forward: I am assuming she's going to keep leveling in sorcerer and if things happen re: Predathos or Kord it will be represented by a subclass change rather than a class change or multiclass, but watch this space. Anyway, level 13 is time for seventh level spells, and my vote is for teleport since FCG can cover Plane Shift, but I must admit I do love Prismatic Spray.

Orym: it's another ASI and he gets a zillion of them! My boring ASI-loving ass says +1 to INT and CON. He could also take Sentinel although the big three generals can all probably teleport so I don't know if it's that useful, but Mage Slayer probably would be. Looking forward: At level 13 he gets a second use of indomitable, which is great but there's not a ton to say about it. At level 14 he gets another ASI and he should take whichever of the recs I have up here he doesn't take at level 12.

Ashton: An ASI to them too. I feel the move is to max out strength at this point. The CON loss sucked but their CON was already very good; focus on hitting a little harder. Sentinel and Mage Slayer are also valid options for them, though I'd go for the ASI and let Orym, he of the zillion ASI levels, take those. Looking forward: Brutal critical comes at L13, and a path feature at L14; as their subclass is homebrew I have no idea what that feature might be, but I'm excited.

[its-an-obsession]

It Wasn't Nancy

Stranger Things Masterlist | Full Masterlist

Anonymous Request: Can I please ask a Steve x- ex-best friend reader where he gets really sick, like barely conscious, and Y/N takes care of him by staying awake during the nights? But as he wasn't conscious enough, he thinks it was Nancy, and Y/N doesn't tell anyone. Months later, he somehow accidentally finds the truth and I wanna leave the aftermath up to you❤️I don't know if this makes sense, though. You don't have to make it if you don't like it, doesn't matter😊

A/N: I'm a sucker for the friends-to-lovers trope. I feel like that's a majority of the x-readers I write 😂. I also think this is the longest x-reader I have ever made! Thank you for requesting, love!!

Summary: You and Steve were always best friends, but after befriending Carol and Tommy, the two of you fell apart. You miss him every day. Now, your high school career is coming to a close. After attending a party at his house, Steve falls sick the next morning. You decided to stay with Steve, not really wanting to leave him alone because you knew he would never take care of himself.

Notes:

Y/N/N: Your Nick Name

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Hazel -> Your Older Sister

You were involved in the Upside Down stuff.

Warnings:

Long Imagine

Slight Language

Steve Harrington x-reader

(Third Person View)

Relationship break-ups are hard, but so are friendship break-ups. Y/N and Steve had been friends since they were toddlers, so close that they'd take baths with one another. People always say that you significantly change during your high school years, but nobody told Y/N that she'd lose her best friend.

Steve and Y/N met Carol and Tommy during their freshmen year of high school. It seemed harmless to meet the couple, but Y/N slowly noticed changes in Steve. He began ditching their movie and game nights, their study sessions, and overall hanging out. Carol and Tommy were always there, like, always there.

Y/N couldn't take a break from them. And sometimes, that's how Y/N truly felt. Y/N stayed by Steve's side, afraid that if she left, she'd lose him forever. But Y/N would lose him no matter what. Steve knew that he wasn't hanging out with Y/N as much.

During their Junior year, Steve wanted to say something, but of course, he was tied up with his new popularity level. So much that it clouded his vision. He thought about telling Y/N so many times but didn't know the right way to say it. And Y/N thought about confronting him but also didn't know how to say it.

And, now, it was their senior year. The two hadn't spoken since freshmen year, other than being project or lab partners. Thankfully, they were on better terms. A lot of people noticed Steve changed, not just them but Y/N.

She saw how much he grew to care about his grades, the way he spoke to people, and who he associated himself with. Even though Y/N wanted to talk to him, there was still some inkling in her that believed he didn't want to talk to her. She knew it was stupid to think that because Y/N understood that Steve liked her.

They knew too much about each other to know they couldn't last long without one another. But, they haven't spoken since the fall, so I guess that belief was proven wrong. Since it was their senior year, it seemed like everyone was having an end-of-the-year party.

And Steve was just one of those students. He hadn't thrown a party since freshmen year but decided that it might be nice to host one. Here Y/N was, standing in the middle of her room, trying to decide what to wear. Hazel, Y/N's older sister, and Nancy sat on Y/N's bed.

"What do you think about this one?" Y/N asked. She held up a purple skirt matched with a white blouse with a few ruffles on the hem. Nancy tilted her head at the outfit her friend held up. "Try it with a different top," she said. Y/N nodded and fished around her closet for a grey button-down.

She turned back around to her sister and friend. Hazel grinned, giving Y/N a wide smile and two thumbs up. "Much better," she said. Y/N thanked her, setting the outfit onto her dresser. Nancy went back to look through some magazines Hazel brought in. "Haze, you wanna come with us?" Nancy offered.

Nancy looked up from the magazine to see Hazel's answer. "I would, but I think it would be weird if a twenty-two-year-old came to a party full of eighteen-year-olds," Hazel said. "True," Nancy nodded. Even though Nancy was an underclassman, she knew a couple seniors, including Y/N and Steve, which granted her access to his party.

Y/N chuckled and went into her bathroom to get changed. Hazel left a few minutes after Y/N changed. "Hey, can I ask you something?" Nancy asked as Y/N stepped back into her room. "Sure," Y/N replied.

She dropped her clothes into the laundry basket. Nancy sighed and sat on the edge of the bed with her hands sitting beside her. "Why haven't you talked with Steve since, like, forever?" Nancy asked.

Y/N looked at her, not expecting the question. She sighed and played with the thread on her skirt. "I don't know. The right moment hasn't come up," she shrugged. Nancy's brows furrowed in response. She smiled softly. "The right moment? Y/N, you practically live in the right moment," Nancy said, "Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't tell him when we were dealing with Dart and his friends."

"Because I was mainly focusing on saving my ass and everyone else," Y/N remarked. She didn't like to admit it to herself. But Y/N felt something when she began talking to Steve again. The two were with Dustin and his friends at the junkyard leading up to the encounter with Billy at the Byers.

You'd think that they would talk after, but it wasn't like that. They were talking more than they had before. Both Steve and Y/N knew there was still some growing to do, but maybe they could grow together? "I thought about it, believe me," Y/N sighed, "I mean, what if he doesn't want to talk to me?"

Nancy was taken aback by Y/N's statement. Nancy was aware that Steve wanted to talk to her. She had spoken with him about it that night at the Byers. Nancy withheld from saying anything because she felt that Steve and Y/N needed to be the ones to say it. "You'd be surprised, Y/N/N," Nancy said.

________

(Y/N's Point of View - Steve's Party)

"Stop pulling at your skirt. It looks fine," Nancy said, shutting the car door. I shot her a look and dropped my hands. She playfully rolled her eyes, locking the car. I guess I should've known that Steve's house would be crowded with people. "Why'd you make me wear it?" I asked, fixing the bow on the side.

Nancy looked back at me with raised brows. She rolled her eyes and continued walking. "Because the color looks great on you, and you needed to wear something else besides jeans," Nancy said. She fixes the strap of her purse, motioning for me to walk beside her. "But jeans are great," I said.

She chuckled. Nancy opened the door, letting out a billion different sounds. The two of us walked into Steve's house and looked for our friends. "I'll be right back," Nancy said. "No, wait. Nance," I called after her but wasn't successful. She was already halfway through the crowd by the time I wanted to follow her.

I decided to make my way over to the kitchen. Given I knew this house like the back of my hand, I knew where Steve kept the drinks other than alcohol. There were a few people crowding around the island. I pushed past them, reaching for the bottom shelf of the fridge.

People walked past me, trying to get to the other side of the kitchen. I shivered when I held the non-spiked lemonade. Nancy was still nowhere to be found. I loved her, but she had a habit of leaving me at parties.

Being the best person she is, she profusely apologizes. After a few seconds of standing there, I walked over to the porch outside. I sat down at a table with the drink. "Nice skirt," someone said. My shoulders dropped when I saw Carol standing there.

She stood there with a smirk on her face. I hadn't spoken to her since Freshmen year. On top of that, I practically ignored her in the halls. I was kind of impressed that I managed to 'forget' about her. But nobody could forget Carol. Her personality controlled that.

"May I sit? My legs are killing me from all that dancing," she chuckled. Without waiting for my response, she sat down. Carol leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs, straightening the hem of her dress. She looked at me, trailing her eyes at my outfit. "You know, you look different," Carol commented.

I looked at her with raised brows, regretting sitting down outside. I scanned the crowd of partygoers once more but, yet again, couldn't find Nancy. "Thanks," I replied. She took a sip of her drink.

I wished Steve would come over and somehow save me, but he was probably preoccupied with other guests. "So, how have you been?" Carol asked. My expression changed to a questionable tone. Never in my life did I think Carol Perkins would be nice to me, let alone tolerable. "I've been good," I replied.

"You must be so happy that school is over. I know I am," Carol said. She paused her sentence to take another long sip of her drink. I glanced behind Carol every once in a while just in case she had been told to talk with me. "Yeah, I am," I nodded. I tried making my responses short to see if she'd get the hint.

Carol went on about herself and where she was going to college. She stated that she wanted to pursue a career in acting and planned to attend a prestigious school in New York. Never did she once ask what I was doing.

It's not like I cared about what she thought, but it's nice when someone asks about your plans. I actually didn't have a solid plan. The plan included me staying in Hawkins to attend a local college. Which didn't seem entirely bad. It meant that I could stay close to my family and friends.

"I just can't believe how much you've changed. I mean, you're not as...." she said.

Her sentence trailed as she tried to think of something to finish it with. She shrugged and shook her drink to see if there was anything left. "Listen, sweetheart," Carol leaned in, "I'm not a 'hint taker,' so you can use that little voice of yours and just speak up."

The smile that inched onto her face was an unfriendly one. I should've known that this conversation would go an entirely different way than it started. I took a long, yet needed, sip of my drink. "Carol, I don't like you. Actually, I never liked you," I spoke, "You're a stuck-up bitch who only cares about herself and nobody else."

She tilted her head, not expecting my remark. "Usually, I'm someone who believes that people can change, but I'm starting to think that you never will," I stood up from the chair, "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find my friends because, frankly, I can't stand that stench coming from that thing you call perfume."

It was true. Carol typically wore freakishly strong perfume, to the point where I was convinced plants would shrivel from her 'signature scent.' Carol stood there with her brows raised and an empty beer can in hand. It was a great relief to see Nancy standing there with a few people in my History class Nancy befriended.

Nancy smiled when she saw me walking over to her. Her brows narrowed as she noticed a newfound confidence in me. "What's gotten into you?" she paused, "Oh my god, how many drinks have you had?" I shook my head and threw my can into the trash.

I told Nancy about the conversation with Carol. Nancy's eyes were wide during the explanation. "And she just stood there silently?" Nancy said. I nodded, chuckling. Nancy had her fair share of incidents with Carol. Mostly during her relationship with Steve, but that has since ended.

It did feel weird that I was friends with my former best friend's girlfriend, but Nancy assured me that it didn't matter to her. "How in the hell was Carol invited?" Nancy said. "No clue. I wouldn't be surprised if she just came in without any invitation," I commented, earning a laugh from Nancy.

________

(The Next Day)

The party had been going on for a few hours. Now, it was ten in the morning, and I had somehow gotten a killer headache. I wouldn't drink during parties, but hey, it was senior year after all. Charlie, a girl from my Physics class, laid beside me with her head resting against the top of the couch.

I had no idea where Nancy was. I hoped she hadn't left without me because she was my ride home. I woke up to see the living room and kitchen a mess. I reluctantly sat up from the couch, with Charlie slightly groaning from beside me. I quietly apologized and looked for Steve.

No idea why I was looking for him, but there was a little voice inside my head that urged me to. I saw Nancy curled up on the recliner in the corner of the living area. She scrunched up her face when I tapped her on the knee. "What?" Nancy responded.

Her voice was scratchy. I knew she wasn't one to drink as well. "Hey?" I nudged her again. Nancy's eyes shot open when she recognized it was me that was trying to wake her. She groaned as she sat up in the chair. "We totally slept over, didn't we?" Nancy said. I nodded in reply. She set my hand into hers as I helped her up.

"You can head home. I'm gonna go find Steve," I said. Nancy stared at me, surprised that I claimed I would go find Steve. "I'll be fine. Charlie's here," I said. Nancy looked over my shoulder and shook her head. I followed her line of sight and noticed that Charlie was walking out of the front door.

Now, it was just me and Nancy at Steve's. She patted me on the shoulder. "Help me find my left sneaker. I lost in the middle of that conga line last night," Nancy said, grabbing onto my shoulder for stability.

______

(Later at Steve's House)

Nancy and I never did find her other shoe. So, unfortunately, she had to head home with only one shoe and someone else's jacket. As for me, I was in the middle of cleaning Steve's house. I didn't even want to think about how the backyard looked.

If it was anything like Steve's other parties, it probably looked like shit. It shocked me that I wanted to stay, but I already knew that Steve wouldn't get this done by himself. I had been preparing myself for what to say when he made an appearance this morning.

I set the fifth bag of trash beside the front door. The house looked somewhat better, but still a wreck. I decided it was time to venture upstairs. I cautiously knocked on each door just in case there were still some guests over. When I got to Steve's room, the door was open just a crack.

And there he was. Steve was lying on his bed, the pillows and sheets messed up. His room was the same as it was in Freshmen year. There were a few new posters, but what surprised me more was that Steve had left pictures of us on his dresser. I couldn't stop myself from walking over to the dresser.

A smile appeared on my face when I saw a picture my mom took of us. Since me and Steve both had birthdays in the same month, we had conjoining parties at sometimes. My mom had taken a picture of us on our thirteenth birthday.

We were sitting beside his pool, sharing a piece of cake. It had been my favorite picture of us. My moment was interrupted by Steve moving on the bed. I turned to see him sitting up in his bed. "Hi," I said, slightly staring at him. Steve's eyes found their way to mine.

"Hi?" he replied. His focus was drawn to me, holding up a picture frame. Just then, Steve immediately rushed to the bathroom connected to his room. I don't remember him drinking that much, but I did kinda blank out the rest of the night. So, who knows!

I put the frame back where it was to see if he needed any help. He held up a thumbs up, telling me he was okay. "Steve, you don't look okay," I said. He shook his head and rested his back against the side of the bathtub.

Steve's face was almost pale looking. His eyes weren't red or anything, but he just looked sick. I thought to myself as to what he had served at the party last night. None of it looked different, other than that suspicious-looking chip dip that Carol and Tommy brought.

If I didn't say it, my face sure did. I told Steve I'd be right back. I sifted through the fridge and the trash, soon finding the container of the dip that the couple had brought. I noticed that the dip had expired. "Oh, shit," I muttered.

He hadn't moved since I went downstairs. I carefully grabbed his arm to bring him over to his bed after I remade it. He sunk into the bed, yanking the comforter over his shoulders. "Steve? Did you eat that cheese dip last night?" I crouched beside him. His eyes narrowed. "The one with the green chunks?" he replied.

The only thought that popped into my head was that he had somehow gotten food poisoning from the dip. Good thing I didn't have it. I just hoped Nancy didn't, either. I'll admit, it did kind of look weird last night. "I'll be right back. I just gotta make a call real quick," I said.

Steve nodded his head with his eyes slowly shutting. I bolted down the stairs to the phone in the kitchen. Last Spring, Hazel had gotten food poisoning from some seafood. She had been at home for almost four days because she couldn't do anything. "Hello?" she answered. "Hazel, it's Y/N," I responded.

Hazel stated that our mother left for work this morning. Thankfully, she said that I was staying at a friend's house, which wasn't a lie. "So, I'm in a bit of a situation here," I said. "Okay?" Hazel answered. "I woke up at Steve's house this morning and discovered that he might have food poisoning," I said.

My sister hissed when I told her the news. I remember my mother ranting to Hazel that she has to ask about certain things about food. "What do I do? I don't want to leave Steve by himself because I know he won't do anything," I explained.

She listed a bunch of different medicines I could search for, and just overall to be there for him. Additionally, Hazel made sure to add what foods he could eat. Because, if it wasn't obvious enough, Steve probably had mainly beer and small foods in his stomach.

While getting Steve's food and medicine together, I also cleaned. It took me a little bit to get everything situated. No matter how much I tried to be quiet, Steve still woke up.

I stayed at Steve's house for the whole weekend, staying awake almost every night. He was getting better but still seemed pretty out of it. Hazel stopped by to help me, even offering to stay with him so I could go home. I told her it was okay. Honestly, this gave me a good opportunity to try and talk to Steve.

It is kind of unfortunate that the time I choose to talk to him is when he's high on some medications. Hazel just left Steve's to drop off some new clothes for me and a few different foods. My mind kept going to why I was doing this all for him.

I mean, is it really worth it? He'll probably just forget about it, but the old Steve might've done that, but certainly not him now. I also couldn't help but think if there were other feelings left in my brain.

Steve was absolutely zonked. I was doing what felt like the millionth round of laundry this weekend. I fixed Steve's pillow, noticing that he was about to fall off the bed if he moved over an inch. I went to get up from the bed. His eyes slightly opened when he saw me.

"Hey," Steve said softly, his hand softly grasping my hand. Steve smiled, but it was a tired smile. "Thank you," he kissed my hand, "Thank you, Nancy."

He fell back asleep when he spoke those words. I didn't know what to do. It's not a big deal, though. Is it? I'm not sure why I was even somewhat offended. It's not like had control over that. It took everything within me to not wake him up. I ignored his statement and left his room.

________

(A Few Months Later)

After Steve's graduation party, things were awkward. Well, at least they were on my end. For all I knew, Steve had no idea what he said. All he knew was that I stayed after to help clean, and he was wasted.

I debated on telling Nancy, but I didn't want to complicate things. The thought that often rotated in my head was: the kiss on the hand, was that meant for Nancy or me? It's stupid to even care. I don't have any feelings for him other than friends. Hazel always said that she could see us together.

But I'd deny it every single time she mentioned it. If it wasn't enough torture thinking about that party, I thought it would've been a brilliant idea to work at Scoops Ahoy with Steve. I know, wonderful isn't it?

In all fairness, it was nice being friends with Steve again. It almost seemed like we put everything that happened behind us. Neither one of us mentioned anything. And! I met Robin. Who makes working at an ice cream parlor more fun.

Robin often convinced our manager to put the three of us together because she loved watching me and Steve bicker. "Dude, you can't just do that," I said, scooping some banana ice cream.

"Why? She laughed at my joke," Steve played with the ice cream scoop. "I believe it was a pitty laugh," I said. Steve gasped at my comment. "It was nowhere in the vicinity of a 'pitty laugh,'" Steve said.

He glanced at Robin for help. She put her hands up, saying she wasn't getting in the middle of the argument, but we all knew she loved to be a witness to it. "Then enlighten me, sunshine. What was wrong with my joke?" Steve invited me to explain.

Big mistake, Harrington. I gave the kid the ice cream, and she handed me the change. The parlor wasn't super crowded today, which was nice because it gave my friends and me time to talk.

"First, you said, 'Can I follow you?' Then paused and followed with 'Because my mom told me to follow my dreams,'" I explained, "You can't say that to someone and expect them to go with it. No wonder she left without getting her change."

Yet again, Steve looked back at Robin. Robin was desperately trying to hold back her laughter, and so was I. "It wasn't that bad," Steve said. "Steve, it was borderline bad," Robin spoke. Steve through his arms up in the air. She put a line on the 'you suck' part of the whiteboard. I laughed.

Steve turned to me with his brows raised, mad at my reaction. "Dude, c'mon, you're asking for it at this point," I said. Steve rolled his eyes and flipped the scoop back into the pocket of his apron. "Fine, then what's a good example of a pickup line?" he questioned.

I sighed and closed the lid where all the ice cream was. Steve watched me as I thought of a pickup line. "Steve, I don't think any pickup line in the world could top the one that you just said," Robin said, "In fact, I don't even think that there is a good pick-up line."

Steve groaned and leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. "Why can't you just talk to girls like a normal person?" I asked. "Cause he's not a normal person," Robin set the board beside her and joined us at the counter.

(Third Person View)

Unlike what Y/N thought, Steve knew exactly what happened. He himself couldn't even fathom what he did. Y/N had written what happened in her journal and later crumpled up the paper, throwing it in the trash. She needed to tell someone but decided to write it down instead.

Naturally, like older sisters do, Hazel noticed the paper in the trash. After reading the words carefully, she realized what happened. Hazel kept it to herself up until it slipped out during prep for a DND meeting with Dustin, which soon led to Steve finding out.

You'd think everything would've stayed hidden, but in Hazel's defense, she wasn't even planning on telling anyone. And as for Steve, he felt terrible. He was good at hiding it because Y/N had no idea. He knew that he needed to tell Y/N and apologize for being such a jerk.

He didn't even know why it was so hard to tell her. Maybe it was because he truly cared about her, or maybe because he saw her in a different light. Steve clearly remembers the conversation with Dustin:

[Two Months After The Party]

"Are you stupid, or are you dumb?" Dustin said, standing in front of Steve. Steve stood behind the kitchen counter as the Henderson boy sat at the table. "I can't believe you said that," Dustin continued his rant. "Hey, you try being high on drugs," Steve pointed at Dustin with a butter knife.

Dustin disregarded the older boy's reaction. He stood up from the table and walked over to the counter. "That doesn't matter. Did you not think that it was Y/N at all?" Dustin said. Steve sighed and set the knife on the plate. He ran a hand under the sink, wiping his hands on a towel. "Dustin, I don't even know why I did it, okay? I was barely unconscious, and my vision was blurry and all that shit that comes with food poisoning," Steve said.

He waved his arms around as he spoke. Dustin thought to himself, mainly thinking that Steve had a point. "Next time you get some information like that, don't go blabbing it to everyone," Steve went back to making his sandwich. Dustin looked up at him. "I didn't 'blab' it everyone. Hazel told me accidentally, then I told you," Dustin answered. Steve rolled his eyes again.

______

(Later - Y/N's Point of View)

Since restarting our friendship, Steve and I started hanging out again. Which included our weekly movie or game nights and hanging out at Starcourt. Right now, we were in the middle of watching one of my favorite movies since it was my turn to choose.

The two of us were on good terms and eventually figured that our long break of friendship was needed. We gathered our favorite snacks and settled in the living room. The movie was only halfway through when Steve decided to speak up. "Hey, Y/N, can I talk to you about something?" he asked.

"Steve, we're in the middle of a movie," I said, gesturing to the television. His brows rose. Steve looked at me, then back to the movie. "How many times have you seen this movie?" he said. I shrugged in reply. "Like five million times," Steve answered, "I think you'll be fine not watching Sixteen Candles for a split second."

He gestured to the television once more before sitting up straight. "C'mon, Samantha was just about to have the moment with Jack," I said, my shoulders dropping. Steve didn't look like he was amused one bit. I sighed and grabbed the remote to pause the movie. "What is it?" I inquired.

He took the blanket off, draping it over the back of the couch. Steve turned so he was facing me. "You remember the grad party in May?" Steve asked. I nodded, motioning for him to get on with it. It was typical for Steve to try and stall as if he was thinking about what to say.

"And you were being your sweet self and cleaned up my house for me," he said. "I had to clean with a killer headache," I said. He chuckled at my response, sighing. "Well," Steve said, "I've been told that that's not entirely true." Now, I really wish I had put up a bigger fight to not pause the movie.

Steve watched me think to myself before finishing his speech. "I was told that..." he said. "That you said Nancy's name when I was helping you," I finished, not bothering to ask how my sister found out. During our conversation, his brown eyes were focused on the carpet.

His eyes wandered away from the ground and up to me. "Why didn't you tell me? Or, ask me if I remembered?" he questioned. I sighed, shrugging yet again. "Because I was afraid. I'm not really sure why because you are the least intimidating person that I know," I said, earning a soft chuckle from Steve.

"Part of me thought that you didn't want to talk to me because I practically ditched you," I said, "And, again, I don't even know why I even bothered to stay to help you, but some little part of me knew that I should. I knew that if I left, you'd never take care of yourself. And it hurt me to think that you'd be home alone feeling like shit."

Steve's face softened at my long statement. He smiled slightly. "Y/N," Steve said. He took my hand into his, resting my hand on his knee. He stared at our hands and then up to me. "I'm sorry that I said Nancy's name. I was completely out of it, and when I heard what I did. I felt terrible because I had grown to like you more than we were little," Steve said.

Now, he had caught my attention. I was a little taken aback, questioning what I heard. "I've grown to like you more than just friends. That's probably a little weird because we've started hanging out again, but you're still the same Y/N that I've known since forever," he paused, "And I'm the same Steve. Well, a new and improved Steve."

His smile grew at the sight of mine. Steve kissed me on the top of my head, leaning his forehead against mine. I smiled as his lips lingered before leaning back, our faces still close.

"I do have one question," I said, "How exactly did you find out? Because I didn't tell anyone." He put the blanket back onto the two of us. Steve grabbed the remote, chuckled (GIF Above), and stated, "I think we should go back to the movie."

Taglist: @b-ritney @ramaalkayyali @midnightstar-90 @nix-rose

[laughterliberator]

Tickle Thoughts Day #1

Had this series going on my last blog, so I figured I’d start it here. This could be a controversial topic, but here goes.

(TW: discussion of the fetish/kinky side of tickling. Not NSFW, but wanted to warn any hard SFW readers just in case)

So…. I have a tickle fetish. Does that mean I have to engage in hookup culture?

I’ve discovered a different side of the tickle community in the last few weeks. I’ve always been on the kink-heavy half, the side where people are very obvious about their sexual enjoyment of our little hobby. And yes, I’m one of them: I do get turned on by tickling. Always have, always will.

Since I got started in the community, I’ve been led to believe that’s all the tickling community could be: a horny group of “friends” that also frequently try to satisfy one another sexually. Being raised the way I was, I had to suppress a lot of discomfort about this lifestyle. I did it well, too: I found enjoyment, satisfaction, and even a certain level of community. I even saw a few strong romantic relationships in my friend group.

But I never found true, unconditional relationships. Everyone was trying to get a piece of me, or me a piece of them, and it led to fights, high emotions, and hurt feelings often. I frequently left servers, sites, and people when I got burnt out from the pressure. That’s where the end of 2023 found me.

Fastforward to 2024

I rejoin Tumblr after a hiatus, and accidentally stumble upon the other side: people who love tickling as innocent, unburdened fun. Not describing it as a “fetish,” but still using the same terminologies of Lee, Ler, etc. Less-to-no bondage, sensory play or stimulation (though that varies from person to person).

Suddenly I’m having genuine conversations that aren’t motivated to move right into tickling, though it’s certainly involved. Suddenly I feel slightly less used, slightly less like a commodity. Suddenly, I understand the idea of having truly trusting interpersonal relationships that weren’t trying to constantly get in my tickle pants.

The problem? The fetish-ness of tickling is still ingrained in my identity. It’s not wrong to exclude, but the complete extrication of that aspect of my tickle talk gave me culture shock. I’m riding a fence here: loving the genuineness that comes from pursuing the innocence of tickling, but not wanting to deny that with a committed partner, I hope to engage in this as a fetish.

So, which side is right? Who’s in the wrong?

Neither. Not really. The problem isn’t whether you view tickling as a turn-on or spotless fun, the real issue (in my opinion) is hookup culture. It saps the genuineness from people, it adds manipulation and end goals, and it reduces your tickle status to “tickle skill,” “experience,” and “session #”.

(Side note: from here on out, I’m done asking people “How many sessions have you had?” For me, there are too many similarities between that and “body count.”)

The tickling community isn’t entirely broken; only some parts. Hookups aren’t the issue, hookup culture is. The idea that you need “experience” rather than connection, “clout” instead of character, and “play partners” with no commitment. It’s seeped into our tickle community, and it’s time we root it out.

In conclusion: I know there are other people on this fence with me. Let’s build some houses up here.

(DISCLAIMER: It’s not my intention to disparage any polyamorous dynamics, aromantic individuals, people who don’t enjoy sex, or anyone who seeks out romantic connection by means of tickle sessions. This criticism is merely of the non-committal expectations imbued into our tickle culture today. Let’s please have understanding and reasonable discussions in the comments.)

[alienssstufff]

idk if u talked abt it b4 but i would LOVE to know why u see autumn as 3L (and i assume LL as winter - DL as spring - LimL as summer) tho i 100% see already purely from aesthetic why thatd be the case itd be so so cool to see a more in depth opinion?? it does fit so well in with the 2 arcs being 3L into LL & DL into LimL as autumn into winter then starting as a new arc of spring into summer?? literally perfect i feel??

[ context ] nooo I never have! I'd love to!

The Life Series thematically happens cycles upon cycles within itself. Each season is like a different part of a year like seasons ending on the very climatic Limited Life as its Summer.

[AUTUMN 3RD LIFE] While there aren't many interesting biomes in 3L that give it away, it's more about the progression of the Beginning as players are taken out of the comfort of their previous lives and all social constructs are thrown out the window and into the deep end. People make pretty bases, feel hesitant to steal, and build monopolies in a world that virtually does not have a currency - all because these are things the Hermits and Empires alike have been doing prior to the Life Series. It's Autumn because it's a learning experience, a transition period as the players grow more accustomed to these new customs in preparation for the extreme.

[WINTER LAST LIFE] HONESTLY the one I'm glad we all agree on, that server is SO #wintercore with so many horror elements. Deeeep alpine forests, winding rivers, tall snowy mountains it got all of them! The perfect winter sequel to 3rd Life and the one where the players (after being a part of 3L) are put the most on edge with the levels of betrayal and distrust the season had going on with the Bogeyman mechanic. People straight up start HUNTING each other for sport it's an example of the most dire of situations and I LOVE IT!

(putting the other 2 under the cut before it gets too long)

[SPRING DOUBLE LIFE] Much kinder than Last Life congratulations you have made it through the winter. Double Life is a season centred on relationships, about all the different types of love between players - if you live in the Northern Hemisphere spring happens during valentines. New bonds like in Spring are made here and old ones resurface and/or are broken in history of the previous seasons. Double Life is kind of like 3rd Life in the sense that people's relationships, and how they go about them are in influence to things that have happened in the past (previous seasons).

[SUMMER LIMITED LIFE] The final season of the First Cycle. The server has a WARM OCEAN biome. I really do wish mojang developed their beaches or the tropics better Limited Life would have been perfect with palm trees. I built a bit on the Limited Life world HERE and HERE It's about teamwork, fun and games - the tone Limited Life has in comparison to Last Life is its polar opposite in the way people trust in each other so much. Even the whole meaning of what it means to be Bogeyman here is flipped on its head it's treated as a gift. It comes perfectly after Double Life as the soulmates made in there (eg Boatboys, Ranchers, etc) continue from here. If anything it reminds me of the summer break before everyone gets back to work (Secret Life).

Side note: Secret Life Bit of a weird one honestly. It to me is the strangest out of the 5 like yeah it COULD be spring aesthetically because of the cherry trees, but it could also be autumn (thus the new cycle), the way it is handled so far is reminiscent of how things were in 3rd Life with everyone being so careful of their lives. Waiting for more sessions to come out to build more on this :]

HWWHWH anyway hope that makes sense ty for letting me talk about the Life Seasons >w<

[whatacaitastrophe]

Is It Over Now - Chapter 7

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Burn Butcher Burn" - The Witcher, Season 2 Soundtrack (performed by Joey Batey)

Chapter Warnings: none!

Spotify Playlist: Here

Chapter Notes: if you have read this fic, liked it, reblogged it, or left comments THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. keep the comments coming bc i love hearing your feedback (and like tinkerbell, i need applause to live).

Chapter 7: I Hear You're Alive. How Disappointing

The next two days fly by without incident, unless you count Wyll making Fallon cry because she has to do one hundred crunches at the end of their final training session before the ball (Fallon counts it). At least when he leaves the morning of the ball he promises he will not be at their door bright and early tomorrow, because he intends to take the next day off. It’s a sure sign of how Wyll expects the evening of revelry and celebration to go. 

After their conversation, Fallon and Astarion fell into an easy rhythm. The first night, they stayed up talking about everything and nothing, only taking breaks to exchange sweet kisses. They still haven’t properly had sex yet, but that’s something Astarion is perfectly ok with. When it comes to Fallon, Astarion wants to do this right. He doesn’t want Fallon to feel like he poured his heart out to her just to bed her (and maybe, just maybe, he’s still the tiniest bit insecure and worried that Fallon had done exactly that). 

Somehow, despite the past two days being some of the best of his life with Fallon, Astarion is incredibly nervous for this ball. He loves a good party, especially one where the attention will be cast upon him, and he’ll be given the opportunity to charm an entire room full of aristocrats, but the anticipation of this night has him pacing around the suite. 

It could also be because Shadowheart arrived at the suite in the early afternoon with a team of hair and makeup professionals trailing behind her to help them get ready for the evening, and as a direct result, Astarion has been left to entertain Lae’zel, who quickly refused the assistance of the small army Shadowheart assembled, declaring she does not need an entire day to become perfect. 

“Astarion,” Lae’zel warns after his twelfth lap around the sitting room in the last hour. “If you do not stop pacing, I will make you.”

Astarion scowls at the githyanki, but he does as he’s told; mostly because he’s still fairly certain Lae’zel could snap him in two if she really wanted to. He picks up the book about the young wizard that he’s still reading, but concentration eludes him and he’s just staring at the pages without absorbing any of the content. 

“My lover has informed me that I need to work on my….people skills,” Lae’zel starts with a huff. “So I am going to ask you why you keep looking at the bedroom door and why you cannot sit still, but please do not mistake my inquiry for actual concern.” 

Astarion snorts with laughter. “I think part of having people skills is showing genuine concern, Lae’zel.”

Lae’zel gives him a stone cold stare, and he almost regrets teasing her. “It’s the first time Fallon and I are going out in public together. As…more than friends.” He clarifies. “So this giant party where everyone is watching, it’s basically our first date.”

“Yes, Shadowheart did mention a romantic development. I did not realize Fallon was finally over the wizard.”

Astarion winces. “Ah, well, not entirely, but that’s complicated to explain and I’m sure you don’t want to hear about the whole sordid affair.”

“That is correct, I do not,” she confirms. “Besides, I’ve heard enough that I think I understand.” 

“Well, that’s why I’m pacing,” he tells her, and Lae’zel levels a stare in his direction. “You asked.” he concedes, raising his hands in defeat. 

Awkward silence fills the suite, and Astarion really wishes he’d thought to turn on the phonograph before their friends arrived because now he’s too afraid to stand up and risk the gith’s wrath by moving around again. “Do you think the wizard will show his face?” Lae’zel breaks the silence. 

“Gods, I fucking hope not. She’s been doing so well…I worry about what seeing him again might do to her.” 

“Maybe that is the real reason why you pace incessantly. You are worried for Fallon, and maybe a little worried for yourself and your romantic involvement with her, should the wizard return.”

Astarion is stunned, and not just because Lae’zel just read him so thoroughly. “Why Lae’zel, I think you may have just shown genuine concern! Shawdowheart will be very proud.” He deflects, as this is a very strange conversation to be having with Lae’zel, of all people. Then again, maybe the warrior is the best person to have this conversation with, because she minces words even less than her girlfriend does, and unlike Wyll or Karlach, or even Halsin, she won’t try to soothe his nerves with false narratives. Astarion defies her and stands to walk over to the cabinet where he and Fallon keep the wine. He pours them each a glass before sitting back down again. “Do you think he’s going to show up?”

Lae’zel ponders for a moment as she drinks her wine. “No,” she declares. “The wizard has not been in contact with anyone for the last year. I believe he is intelligent enough to know his presence would not be welcome.” As backhanded as it is, Astarion is surprised by the compliment Lae’zel affords Gale. 

Astarion winces. “Well…that’s not entirely true.” 

“My assessment of the wizard’s intelligence, or that he has not been in contact with anyone since he left in the first place?” 

“The second part.”

Deafening silence fills the suite again, and Astarion swears Lae’zel does not ever blink. “You’ve spoken to him.”

“I’ve seen him.” Astarion confesses.

More silence. “When?” 

“Months ago…it’s a long story.”

“Does Fallon know?”

“No.” 

“Does anyone?”

“....no one other than you and Gale.” Astarion did not think it was possible for the githyanki’s lips to get any thinner, but they do and she’s glaring at him. “Please don’t tell her.” Astarion begs.

The silence that follows could not have lasted more than a few minutes, if not seconds, but it feels like an eternity while Astarion holds his breath, waiting for Lae’zel to say something. 

“I will not intervene, because it is not my place and unlike my lover, I do not care to gossip,” she sips from her wine glass. “However, I will encourage you to be honest with Fallon, because if she ever finds out you kept this from her, it will not end well for you.” 

Astarion sighs, finishing his own glass of wine and pouring another. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” 

“I’ve never taken you to be a coward, Astarion. Do not start now, as I do not associate with cowards.” 

It might be the nicest thing the gith has ever said to him, and the closest she’s ever come to admitting they’re actually friends. Lae’zel dismisses herself to get ready for the ball, leaving Astarion alone. Astarion sighs quietly and tells himself that he’ll broach the topic with Fallon first thing tomorrow. He doesn’t want to ruin this night for her. Astarion looks at the grandfather clock by the door and realizes that he should probably get ready as well and he heads for the spare bedroom.

An hour later, Lae’zel is the first one to return to the sitting room, followed shortly by Astarion. “Well, don’t you look dashing.” Astarion offers the gith as he takes in her form. The dress Lae’zell chose (more likely chosen by Shadowheart for her), is a simple, black floor length a-line gown with a cowl neckline. The halter top compliments her toned body, and the necklace she’s wearing is a pendant with moons and stars on it. The ensemble is not much different than the one Lae’zel wore to last year’s Winter Solstice Ball, and Astarion is almost certain that Lae’zel not repeating an outfit is entirely Shadowheart’s influence.

The doublet Astarion picked out for himself is black velvet, and the filigree throughout is the same color as Fallon’s dress. Though the development of their romantic involvement is less than a tenday old, Astarion always knew he would be the one escorting Fallon to the ball, and he’d be damned if their ensembles didn’t match, or worse, clashed altogether. Shadowheart calls from the bedroom that she and Fallon are nearly ready, and Astarion begins pacing again. Lae’zel glares at him, but she doesn’t say anything, and Astarion notices that even the stoic githyanki warrior is fidgeting a little in her seat. He does not dare bring it up for fear of losing his head, but it’s sweet to see his friend be nervous about seeing her lover in her dress for the first time. 

The door to the bedroom opens and Astarion freezes in place and Lae’zel shoots to her feet. Shadowheart is the first to emerge and though Shadowheart looks absolutely lovely, Astarion is watching Lae’zel. He’s never seen her look awestruck before. Lae’zel walks over to a beaming Shadowheart and takes her hands. “ Zhak vo'n'fynh duj' : Source of my joy. You are more radiant than the sun.” Astarion looks away when Lae’zel captures Shadowheart’s mouth in a deep kiss (it feels weird watching the gith be this vulnerable), his gaze automatically goes to the bedroom door. 

Fallon steps through the door, and Astarion is breathless. He imagines the look on his face is not much different than that of the one Lae’zel had on her face moments before, but when Fallon smiles at him, Astarion honestly forgets that there is anyone else in the suite aside from the two of them. Fallon walks–no–floats towards him, the chiffon of her dress having the exact effect Astarion and Figaro envisioned together. He meets her halfway and takes one of her hands and Astarion bows deeply to the woman in front of him, and kisses the back of her hand. 

“Well, I must say, whoever chose this dress for you has excellent taste,” Astarion jests as he rises. “You look absolutely exquisite, darling.” 

Blush creeps up Fallon’s neck. “Thank you. For all of it.” He knows she means more than just the dress. 

Wyrm’s Rock is decorated for the season to the nines. Wyll’s stepmother is known for her parties, and this one is no exception. “It’s beautiful.” Fallon muses in awe as they walk in. “I can’t believe I missed this last year.” 

Astarion squeezes her hand softly as he thinks back to this time last year. Astarion and their friends attempted to convince Fallon to leave The Elfsong for this occasion, but their efforts were in vain. When they’d gone to collect her, she was already several bottles of wine deep in the bar with some of the tieflings from The Grove, could barely stand, and was in absolutely zero condition to spend an entire evening socializing with the aristocrats of Baldur’s Gate. They’d all agreed that with the absence of Fallon, and even Gale, it didn’t really feel like much of the celebration it was supposed to be.

The four of them step further into the extravagantly decorated room and are immediately greeted by various members of the court, fawning over Fallon especially after missing last year. Astarion holds his tongue as they fuss and speculate to her face about why she was absent last year, and pride spreads through his body as Fallon fields the question and deflects like she’s been doing this her whole life. This was why she’d become their leader. She charmed people with ease and carried herself with such confidence it was no wonder nearly everyone they met fell in love with her instantly. Eventually she’s able to wave them off, and Astarion leans over to kiss her temple. 

“Gods, those people do love their gossip, don’t they?” Fallon muses with a laugh. 

“Yes, I’d no idea you’ve been out of the city training dragons, do tell me, when shall I get to ride one? You’ve been holding out on me.” 

“Your very own dragon is your solstice gift.” She teases with a wink but expression very quickly changes to surprise and then pure glee. Fallon lets out an excited squeal and Astarion follows her gaze to where Wyll is standing but it’s not Wyll, or even the druid Halsin towering next to him that caused the object of Astarion’s affection to squeal with delight.

It’s Karlach.

Not only is it Karlach, but the tiefling looks like herself. 

Fallon does not bother with proper etiquette, and she gathers her skirts in one hand, takes off towards Karlach at a sprint and leaps into her friend’s arms. Astarion trails after her, and though he definitely is not running as Fallon had, Astarion’s gait is definitely quicker than usual. After sacrificing herself and becoming an illithid, Karlach was forced to lay low after the battle ended. For obvious reasons, illithids were not exactly a welcome sight in Baldur’s Gate, but Halsin welcomed her back to The Grove with open arms. 

“I missed you, soldier.” Karlach is murmuring into her embrace with Fallon as Astarion approaches the reunion.

“I can’t believe it– you’re here! And you’re you!” Fallon exclaims, hugging Karlach again with tears in her eyes. “How?”

“Just a little bit ‘o temporary magic, I’m afraid. Nettie and our pal Halsin made me a potion so I’d look like meself tonight. Not that I ever stopped being me, but, you know ‘ow it is.” 

Fallon greets Halsin next, and the druid picks her up to spin in a circle and Astarion just smiles as the fabric of her dress floats effortlessly around her. He really does have good taste. Halsin was one of the first people to ever suspect that Astarion had feelings for Fallon. The conversation occurred shortly after Halsin confessed his own feelings for Fallon to her, only to be gently turned down after Gale refused the suggestion of an open relationship. At the time, Astarion made fun of Gale for being so incredibly traditional in his way of thinking, but now that he has Fallon, Astarion understands. He doesn’t want to share Fallon with anyone else, either.

“How do you do it?” Halsin asked him whilst sitting by the fire one evening. 

Astarion looked up at the druid in confusion. “Do what?”

“How do you cope with the ache in your heart, watching Fallon and Gale together day in and day out? I only ask because I’ve not been in this group very long, whereas you’ve been here since the beginning. When does the pain of watching her love another fade?” 

Astarion stared at Halsin, mouth slightly open. “Are you suggesting I have feelings for our dear leader?”

“Am I wrong? I’ve seen the way you look at her when you think no one is watching.”

Astarion frowned. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

Halsin gives him an understanding smile. “Then perhaps I misread the situation. My deepest apologies.” 

“No apology needed, friend.” Astarion replied before turning back to his book, ignoring the very ache Halsin just spoke of.

Halsin lets go of Fallon, approaching Astarion. The druid offers him a strong handshake and claps him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you, friend. I am very glad to see the two of you together. She looks happy.” 

Astarion looks over to Fallon and then back to Halsin. “She does, doesn’t she?” Waitstaff pass buy and offer each of them a glass of champagne, and Fallon eagerly listents as Karlach regales her with stories of the grove, seeing Arabella again, and learning how to live among druids as an illithid, and learning how to live as an illithid in general. 

“I mean, I thought that emperor bloke was joking when he said he ate brains, nope. It’s truly the most horrific part of this ‘ole thing. ‘Course I don’t eat people or anything–” Karlach stops speaking suddenly, and her facial expression shifts to complete horror in an instant. 

“You owe me twenty gold, mate.” Wyll tells Halsin, and his tone can only be described as disappointed anger. Halsin also looks very unhappy, and a sickening feeling begins to form in Astarion’s stomach as he realizes that Halsin’s unhappiness has nothing to do with owing Wyll money. 

“Well, this is quite the reunion, isn’t it? Leave it to The Winter Solstice to always bring old friends together.” An omnipotent voice comments from behind Astarion’s back, and Astarion whips around, willing his fingers to not ball into fists at his side as he tries to remember to breathe. That annoying, condescending voice only belongs to one person.

Fallon spins around to face the owner of the voice and she gasps. For the first time in over a year, she speaks the name of her ex-lover, and her voice is shaking. 

“Gale.”

Chapter List

[coffeeandjournaling]

Project Ecco

A solo roleplaying game by Elliot Davis

Materials

game manual

a planner, new or used

a coin/d2 and d6

materials to destroy your planner

further into play: additional coin and die, standard deck of cards, tarot deck

Premise

A mysterious agency, an even more mysterious entity feeding on time itself and smack-dab in the middle: You. As an extension of the Agency, you are tasked with uncovering the truth about “ECCO”, the Entity of Chronological Consumption and Obfuscation. Navigating the chaos of days flying by with the aid of a simple coin, will you complete your mission to the Agency’s satisfaction straightforwardly or will you travel down a road not yet taken, peeking behind a curtain of lies? Who is really on your side? Or, perhaps more importantly, on whose side are you?

Mechanics

In Project Ecco, you progress through time and the game using a regular planner and a variety of different time travel tools. While you might be tempted to use a brand new, untouched planner for this, a used one will do just fine and might even make the game more personal and varied, since existing notes or special dates can be incorporated into play. Keep in mind that your planner will end up at least partially destroyed by the Entity, then again the level of destruction is completely up to you. Scissors are certainly an option, but a good opaque paint marker achieves the same effect with less confetti.

Your tools of choice are in essence a set of game oracles: prompts decided by dice, playing and tarot cards determine how far back or ahead in your planner you travel and which challenges you encounter along the way. Time travel can be quite random, so don’t be scared when you land on the same day more than once. At least as long as you have your trusty coin, the only thing that will keep you from slipping in-between time and experiencing some truly harrowing events. How you respond to these prompts is up to you. Write, draw, use planner stickers; the only limit is the space your planner gives you for the date you are currently on.

During your travels, you tally up the times you either make it back to the Agency or get uncomfortably close to the Entity. Entity encounters in particular are interesting because they prompt you to destroy random dates in your calendar, possibly forcing you into a timeline divergence later on. Completing six encounters either way triggers the endgame – but not necessarily the end of the journey…

Thoughts and Examples from my Playthrough

I had a lot of trouble trying to summarize the game in the above paragraphs. Project Ecco is a very meaty, complex (but not necessarily complicated) game and is more of a five-course meal than an afternoon snack. Consequently, reading the setup instructions can be a little intimidating for someone who has only started dabbling in solo play. Everything is explained thoroughly without being exhausting, however, and on top of that I found myself really interested to read about the different tools and mechanics. In fact, I had to stop myself from snooping too much so as not to spoil my first playthrough.

Your game can last you several sessions over a couple of days. Don’t worry, though, all the cool time travel tools make for a fresh and exciting experience. Special dates, timeline divergences, personal notes and Agency/Entity encounters also serve to keep you on your toes. Whenever you feel like you have seen it all, a new prompt throws you a curveball, altering your perspective on the world and its inhabitants. It’s also great for replayability purposes, as your first playthrough can influence how you go about the challenges on your second round. I usually don’t care much for replay value (my time is limited and there’s a lot of games to try out), in this case, however, it’s so on theme that it’s almost a crime not to play again.

When you have the general cycle down, the game is a breeze. Have I mentioned that I love the time travel devices? Each and every one is unique in the way it lets you progress. As soon as you pick them up during the game, you can switch freely between them. Either you are very strategic about it to avoid repeat visits to certain dates or you embrace chaos for some interesting results. In the beginning, I dreaded losing my coin and experiencing timeline divergences. The closer I got to the endgame, the more I revelled in the wild and unpredictable element they brought to the game and the story that unfolded.

At this point, it shouldn’t amaze me that much how game designers manage to achieve this impeccable level of worldbuilding with just a bit of flavour text and a handful of prompts. From the agents’ designations being real world dates to the time travel tools with clear retro vibes, Project Ecco lets you dive into an 80s sci-fi flick with you as the protagonist torn between your fragile loyalty to the Agency and the conflicting discoveries you make about the Entity. I suppose if there was one thing you wanted to knock, it could be that this is not a very character-driven game. A lot of journaling games focus on the character you create, often as a stand-in for yourself, dealing with their emotions and feelings as they react to the events thrown at them. This is more of mystery thriller focused on plot than a character exploration game. Character creation is as simple as picking your agent designation and, if you’re using a personal planner and are very meticulous in adding dates specific to your character, weaving in details during the game. That being said, I did manage to spin this into a tragic queer romance…such is the nature of solo roleplaying. Hence, others might disagree on this with me, and that’s totally fine.

My attention span has been wavering lately, so I honestly didn’t expect to stick with this. But everything about Project Ecco drew me in. I love the manual that looks like a genuine little agent handbook and the details of the understated illustrations. A solid white-black-and-red colour scheme is always a classy choice. The prompts are descriptive enough to give you guidance and bits of lore without limiting you to a specific path. It’s simply an overall round and well-thought-out experience through and through. I’m a little peeved I didn’t get the Temporal Spread – Samantha Leigh was a guest writer for this specific time travel tool and I’ve been dying to get into their other games (especially Outliers, which seems to deal with adjacent themes), so I was looking forward to get a peek at their writing here. Alas, my agent just wasn’t destined to have it…perhaps the next one will.

I wonder how well this would hold up with a digital planner. Mostly, I am an analogue player when it comes to journaling games. I like how tactile it is and that you're creating an artifact of play to keep on your shelf, something very unique and often verging on if not being outright artistry. But the analogue format does (perhaps intentionally) limit your word count and thus keeps journaling rather short and to the point. I suppose a digital format would allow for more character development, if that is your goal. It would also extend your playtime – which is already significant as is. Still, certainly an interesting option, especially when you plan on playing more than twice.

This might be your cup of coffee if...

you revel in a good time travel mystery.

you prefer to play longer games with more complex mechanics than the average journaling game.

you enjoy some solid worldbuilding and lore to add onto over time, possibly in multiple playthroughs.

you are not afraid to mess up some prime stationary. Seriously. If you love your planner? Do not use it for this. Bullet journaling queens and kings, beware!

You can get Elliot Davis’ Project Ecco HERE on itch.io or as a physical copy available at the online sources linked in the description of the game. Make sure to check out Cassi Mothwin’s flip through of the game and take in the incredible actual play episode by the My First Dungeon podcast crew that I enjoyed immensely and proves that this game supports a more light-hearted tone, as well. In case you are the creative type, Davis is currently still running a game jam for supplements for and games inspired by Project Ecco on itch.io that lasts until March 1st. Plenty of time left to get your head in the game. :)

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 6: Patience

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: ANGST (y'all like actually so much angst), hurt/comfort, mention of canon character deaths, descriptions of violence, banter, references to slavery & war, lil' bit of fluff, self-doubt, grief, sad Ani.

Summary: After spending hours in the Jedi Archives trying to catch up on the last ten years of galactic events, Anakin drags you away for an impromptu sparring session. However, in the throws of saber-to-saber combat, with Obi-Wan as witness, the troubled Jedi lets slip a concerning habit. One that you hope to guide him through.

Song Inspo: Valley of Pain — Bonnie Raitt

Words: 9.5k (I'm sorryyyy)

A/n: Okay, soooo I was thinking about splitting this into two parts, but then I was like ehhhh there's a lot of missing context if I do that. So here we are (I promise I will, like, write the shortest of short chapters for the next one XD). This one is super angst/emotion-heavy to help set up where we are so get ready. Also, please please please comment your thoughts because I got a little experimental with this chapter and would love to know what y'all liked/disliked :))

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Series Masterlist

Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet — Aristotle

Anakin leaned comfortably against one of many murky inner pillars, each carefully constructed to steady towering rows of azure-luminescent holobooks in the Jedi Archives. As he crossed his arms with a restive huff, the young Jedi was careful to navigate his right elbow so to avoid the large, rounded, and precariously placed head of Neti Jedi Master Ood Bnar. It was one of the many copper busts depicting legendary figures from The Order’s history that surrounded him. All of them thoughtfully gandered from short, gray pillars stationed at the end of every shelving chain up and down the Archives.

Regardless of his vigilant delicacy around such artifacts, Anakin’s primary attention centered on a point in the distance, just five stacks away.

The chestnut-haired man’s sights leveled on you and Ahsoka, comfortably sat on either side of a long hourglass table, part of the several two-seated structures that occupied each Archival study hall.

While he watched on, eyes poised to notice any hint of an end to the scholarly activities before him, he couldn’t help how the Archive’s careful silence infected him. The pin-drop quietude was accented by the intermittent flowing footsteps of a lingering Jedi or the occasional shuffle of a holobook being plucked from its resting place. It stretched the passing seconds like an endless hyperlane. And with each minute flick of sound, the deathly tranquility acted as a reminder.

That Anakin was waiting entirely too long for one of you to call it quits.

The passing hushes of quiet conversation and intermittent, echoing taps of fingers upon holobook screens had all grown tiresome for the impatient Jedi. Even the soft lumbers of elder Masters speaking in low intervals provided little entertainment while he continued to observe you both, hunched over an array of holobooks that marginally added to the yellow luminescence of the dimly lit stone-gray chairs, which engulfed your figures before the marble work surface.

Admittedly, though, Anakin had only entered a few moments ago.

He remembered last night, sharing a few plates of thrantcill pâté with Ahsoka at the far Temple refractory when, in their conversation, she revealed that you’d spent the entirety of yesterday’s afternoon in the Archives, scouring through endless texts regarding the last 10 years of galactic events and figures with her notes as a guide. From what he understood, the two of you had a nice little arrangement going. Ahsoka would study while you borrowed her notes and, in exchange, you would pause your research to quiz her on whatever she was learning these days.

But as a consequence, you had effectively been locked away in an academic prison, at least from Anakin’s perspective.

And he knew, that just wouldn’t do.

So he stopped by the Archives this morning, assuming he’d find you once again, pouring over a mountain of information with angled elbows and firm palms holding you up and awake by the cheekbones.

Despite spending the last decade of your life either studying within the confines of an old, abandoned ship or foraging for supplies in a desolate icescape, it seemed to Anakin that even with your newfound environment of possibility and connection, your engrossment in similar activities would continue in perpetuity.

That was, until he found it necessary to step in.

He pushed off the pillar with a gentle tick from the Force, choosing to saunter over when he began to notice your eyes in particular. Veined and faded red from staring at screens for hours on end.

Yup, time for a break, he decided inwardly.

His heels tapped with each resonant step, bouncing off the sonorously curved high ceilings before eventually leading him to be within reach of causing a mild disruption. As a playful muscle pulled at his lips, Anakin brightly slapped the table with both hands flat while swiftly leaning into your viewpoint.

The unexpected noise startled both you and Ahsoka from your holobooks, simultaneously drawing the eye of a few elder Masters. But that didn’t impede Anakin’s drive. In fact, your heedlessness regarding his presence only fueled his beliefs— that these many hours in the Archives had drained your senses enough, and that he alone would be the one to drag you away from it.

“Okay,” he announced rather loudly. “Enough is enough. You’re gonna turn into a holobook if you stay here for any longer.”

Anakin sucked in your miffed glare while Ahsoka tried to stifle a faint giggle out of the corner of his eye.

“You know I’m doing this, quite literally, to protect you,” you challenged quietly with a raised brow. “Can’t do much guarding without knowing what I’m guarding against.”

“You’re right,” he feigned admittance as he lowered his voice to your level, hopefully to discourage the subtly annoyed yet watchful eyes of a few librarians to his left by kneeling down and pitching in further.

“If this.” He glanced down at the closest holobook, grabbing it to lift into his vision as he read the title. “Holobook on intergalactic political alliances turns into a giant, being-eating Rancor, I know that I’ll be perfectly safe in your very capable, studious hands.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes before a barely perceptible twitch tugged at the corner of your mouth. You swiped the device from him, returning it to its rightful place on the table.

“Knock it off, Smarty,” you quipped as you tried to return to the holobook in hand.

But your subtle amusement was fuel to his teasing fire.

Anakin grinned. “Or you could quote the guidelines of the Coruscant Accords to a sharp-toothed Acklay looking to take a bite. I’m sure that would go over well.”

Anakin’s ears perked as you dropped the holobook you’d been analyzing to the table. Rather abruptly, you placed a hand on the workspace to twist toward the eager Jedi, slight frustration lining your features.

“And what would you suggest?” You asked expectantly.

The responsive Jedi opened his mouth to answer, but paused mid-vocalization as he tried to come up with a reasonable proposal.

Thankfully, the galaxy granted him a moment to think.

“Whatever it is, can you come up with it somewhere else?” Ahsoka piped up in a whisper. “I’m trying to study for my test.”

Anakin observed as your eyes softened toward his frustrated Padawan.

“Sorry, Ahsoka,” you offered earnestly before scooting out of the grunting, asperous seat below. You raised gracefully, leaning over the ornamented table to collect your many holobooks. “We’ll get out of your way.”

Anakin straightened while you grabbed the last text, watching you turn on your heel toward the Archives’ center circle as he followed at your side.

“Need a hand?” He offered while scanning the hazardously stacked pile of holobooks that leveled just below your inquisitive nose.

“No, not at all,” you spoke, dripping with sarcasm. “Can’t distract you from coming up with your grand idea on how I can be your perfect defender.”

An unimpressed frown flickered across his features briefly. That was, until a sudden lightbulb within him buzzed to life.

It was something to cure his boredom and it would meet your objectives, he excused inwardly.

“Well, if you can beat me in a duel, that would certainly prove your abilities,” he suggested casually.

He was hoping not to reveal the sudden wave of excitement that overcame him following these days of stark boredom. Anakin didn’t realize it until that moment, but what he really needed was a good, old-fashioned sparring session. Not with a drone, but with another Jedi. Something low stakes and disconnected from the war.

But the many developments since his arrival had not made that easy.

After Ahsoka had finished her essay that night when they first docked on Coruscant, Master Plo Koon decided to schedule a test covering the last few months of physical science studies from their tutoring sessions. So, with her hidden away in the Archives, Anakin wasn’t able to do much training or guidance as her new Master.

Not that he really had any idea how he was going to go about that anyway. It was all still so new.

He’d just wing it, he thought.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, was stuck in back-to-back Council meetings about Maker knows what. Anakin imagined hours-long discussions on possible solutions to the communications system infiltration with Temple technicians by their side, offering tidbits of advice on deconstructing board matrices and tracking transmitter codes as the considerations continued. Tedious, but necessary, he considered.

Even R2-D2 was indisposed, having been temporarily assigned to one of the Temple’s system specialists before Anakin had even arrived at the Temple hangar, left to run diagnostics on the potentially compromised system for hours on end as they moved from sector to sector. Though, while he lost that unofficial race, he knew that the only reason Artoo reached Coruscant first with his handful of clones from the 501st was because of their short ‘diversion’ to Hoth.

So, with everyone busy, that left Anakin with meditation and training alone, neither of which he found particularly enjoyable at the moment. Or, at least, since his time a few months ago on Tatooine.

In the days following Anakin’s return from that arid, porous world, particularly in recent weeks, he found it difficult to be left alone with his mind. Images of his mother, weak and crumbling through his arms, the guttural cries of Tusken Raiders, and the scalding whip of Dooku’s crimson sword would invade his senses in mere moments of solitude. Even in the briefest of silent pauses or calming realities, he’d hear them all. Clawing at his senses. Yanking at his heavy chest.

The worry of that reality pervading indefinitely tapped at the young Jedi’s thoughts like a dark harbinger. Especially in the stillness of the Archives while he waited for you to finish. Before he couldn’t delay any longer.

He was desperate for a distraction to snap his thoughts away.

So, when he suddenly remembered that the time you were spending in the Archives was entirely voluntary, Anakin couldn’t help how his spirit felt a little more enlivened as he hopped up from his meditation, a tottering crisscrossed position between two orange flowering Saavas, to toe race his way to the Archives.

Yes, he did actually want to check in on you after days of study, but Anakin too seemed to have his own personal motivations.

Company is what the young Jedi sought, and he was entirely satisfied to keep it with you.

He considered this draw more deeply, pulling at the roots of his kindling connection with you.

Something shifted in Anakin that night in the Uscru District, legs dangling off the end of one of Coruscant’s largest garbage pits as decaying fumes encircled his ankles.

He hadn’t met a Gray Jedi before, but he wondered if they were all like you. Your kindness and softness when speaking the truth. The warmth of your voice.

It anchored him, to those moments of comfort and safety he felt many years ago, when encircled by his mother’s protective arms. It was especially true on those cold nights, after dark and dreary days, when she would tell him of the tale of the sun-dragon.

How his heart would be his strength, much like how she was his heart.

And he missed that feeling, so greatly that when faced with the sensation again, he fell back into old habits. He couldn’t help it. He’d always told his mother everything, and for a brief glimpse, your nature made him feel at home again.

And so he told you.

Something that he couldn’t even at first admit to Obi-Wan.

He told you his mother died.

But it was when he felt your cold hands in his clammy palms, that he could finally sense the signals swirling within your being that you betrayed on your face to him that night.

Indications you kept very well hidden away.

But the touch of two Jedi freed you to share what you felt for the doe-eyed man, intentionally or not.

And he shouldn’t have been so affected by what he sensed, Anakin argued. The blue-eyed Jedi knew you had trained to dedicate your life to him. Or, at least, to the Chosen One prophecy. But still, for a being he met only a week prior, he couldn’t help but be taken aback.

You exuded tenderness, care, and unwavering loyalty.

For the first time in years, Anakin felt truly perceived in that moment. And while he still grappled with the words spoken that night, overshadowed by unfading ghosts of the past, it finally solidified within his sun dragon heart one cogent decision.

Anakin knew that he could trust you.

“I suppose,” you admitted as you reached the central reference desk, pulling Anakin back into his current reality.

Eyeing the large rotunda in the Archive’s center, you dropped the stack of holobooks at the expansive counter for return with a slight clang. As you pivoted down the main hallway leading to the Archive’s exit, you continued. “But I’m supposed to meet with Master Yoda this afternoon, and I don’t know if he wants to duel with me. So we’ll need to keep it short.”

Anakin grinned victoriously as he nodded. “Sounds good to me!”

—

The jaunt to Training Room C was quick.

At least by Anakin’s standards.

Once again, as his mind drifted, the thoughtful Jedi gazed at the room’s beige-white flooring and textured walls, outlined into zoning squares by dark wooden panels and pillars that crossed with geometric balance. His observations since returning to the Temple were the primary factor influencing his temporary tachysensia. Predominantly, that if yesterday’s experience was any indication, he had every right to believe training room availability would be similarly limited today.

As you stretched your legs against the far wall beside one of the two sets of three-tiered mahogany viewing benches on either side of the dojo, Anakin stood by the room’s entrance, twirling the blue glow of his saber in leisurely circles while dipping further into his memories.

First, he recalled the horde of Jedi present at yesterday morning’s emergency meeting. Anakin couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen that many Jedi in one room. Let alone the sum total, many thousands at least, present in the Temple since his arrival a few days ago.

The one outlier was, of course, the Battle of Geonosis, and the events that immediately followed. It was the first time Anakin realized the sheer power of The Order, fighting in tandem to protect peace in the galaxy against dividing forces.

The young Jedi was pleased by the Republic’s material victory that day. That was never in question. But any feeling of triumph was often overshadowed by the depth of another emotion that stretched and coiled along his bones like a growing mold.

Guilt.

It was clear, he thought. In that moment and in the weeks and months which followed.

He wasn’t strong enough to face Dooku that day.

And he nearly paid the ultimate price.

One glance down at his alloyed, dark steely arm with its thin crevices leading to an interior of gears and overlapping wiring was proof enough. Evidence that maybe if he’d trained a little harder as Obi-Wan’s Padawan, or followed his gut and joined Kenobi on his trek to Kamino, that things would have been different.

Maybe, just maybe, so many lives wouldn’t have been lost to such a stupid war.

A war he nearly prevented from happening in the first place during that battle, stained with Jedi blood.

Maybe, he would’ve been faster in countering Dooku’s rapidly twisting and thunderous blows.

And if he was swifter, maybe his mother would still be alive.

But no, Anakin’s power was no match for Dooku’s wielding.

At least, not yet, he thought.

His mind floated again, to the days and weeks following that deadly day. Scores of Padawans were knighted to feed the growing war effort, including himself. Generals were needed, and more knights were expected to take on Padawans to educate them on how to adapt their abilities to times of conflict.

It was necessary. He knew that. But still, the malformation of a pinnacle Jedi celebration, usually a grand and gradual affair, into rushed trial processes and fleeting bestowment ceremonies made him feel more like a piece of unrefined Duralium stumbling its way through a processing plant than a Jedi.

Though despite his new title, and greater set of responsibilities, Anakin considered himself just as equally removed from the planning affairs as he was when a Padawan.

Once all the Jedi were similarly recalled to the Temple after Geonosis, a flood of Council meetings followed in succession to determine The Order’s place in this war. They petitioned the attendance of many Masters, even giving Master Kenobi his own seat, as they negotiated the Jedi role of peacekeeper while trying to defend against the threat to one thousand years of peace.

And it never relented.

Emergency gatherings spiraled in succession, especially after the bombing of Cato Neimoidia.

He remembered it all well. The smoky remnants of a charred away district lost to the planet’s depths. The medical tents that gently swayed in eery silence, save for the intermittent groans of the few survivors. All of these images displayed in everlasting reels on the HoloNet News, shocking the galaxy into reality. The chaos that followed compelled many to realize that even overt neutrality would not keep worlds safe from this war.

But in these high-level meetings that addressed important events just like this, that strategized how to help these people, Knights or Padawans were never included.

They never included him.

So, instead, much like the past few days, Anakin would wander the Temple halls. Perhaps visit the gardens if he was feeling particularly meditative.

But that was just once. And only because Obi-Wan suggested it after catching him waiting opposite from Training Room R, sitting on the floor and leaning against a pillar with arms resting on each knee and a particularly glum look lining his face.

“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan inquired as he stopped momentarily, no doubt in a hurried dash to another urgent Council meeting, Anakin concluded.

It was a few days before his knighting ceremony, and only a week after his mechanical limb was installed. But he wasn’t feeling as cheerful as he once thought he would be when he was a youngling. He was supposed to feel excited to become a Jedi Knight.

Not lost.

“Waiting,” he huffed in a monotone.

The impatient Jedi watched Obi-Wan angle back to scan the training rooms that lined the rear wall. Anakin’s expression was unchanged as his Master returned toward him in a curious manner.

“Have you been waiting here all day?” He asked inquisitively.

That same flat tone escaped Anakin’s mouth in affirmation.

Obi-Wan hummed with a hint of satisfaction. “If you showed this much patience in your training sessions, you may have learned a lot more,” he mused.

The nearly former Padawan gazed up at him unimpressed when he noticed a lightbulb go off behind Master Kenobi’s brightened eyes.

“You know, this might be a wonderful time for you to meditate. And I know the perfect place!”

Anakin groaned.

It felt like it all happened years ago, Anakin considered. But in reality, it had only been a few months. War had warped his sense of reality, and maybe that was why he felt a strange sense of déjà vu when he returned to the same hall of training dojos the day before, only for each expanse to be occupied with beings like him, loitering by the entrances and against pillars for their turn by the hour.

But today was different for some reason. Many of the training rooms lay vacant and the halls were generally unoccupied, save a few Jedi using the surrounding walkways for travel.

Part of him wanted to investigate. To see if some Jedi were called off to a mission he didn’t know about. No comms meant that he was even less informed about the Temple’s goings-on. But that never stifled his curiosity.

Instead, it all only seemed to further stoke his kindling restlessness.

Then, he remembered. Master Kenobi had offered to spar with him later today. Maybe he’d get some answers then.

But then again, if history with The Council proved repeatable, probably not.

“Are you gonna twirl that thing all day or are we gonna spar?”

Your sonorous voice shocked the distracted Jedi out of his stupor. He spun toward you, recognizing your casual stance, saber unsheathed and dangling at your side in its luminescent gray as you gazed at him expectantly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled while approaching your figure.

“Watcha thinking about?” You asked once Anakin’s gate mollified.

“Oh,” he inflated with a cartoonish shrug. “Just about how this thing is gonna end before I’ve had the chance to build up a sweat,” he grinned while crouching into an attack stance.

You mirrored his pose, matching his outward repartee with striking, fiery orbs.

“You should have more confidence” you scolded in jest. “I’m sure you’ll get some blocks in.”

Anakin rolled his eyes at the wide beam that engulfed your face. He leaned into his knees, centering his connection with the tingling flow around him.

“What is it you said?” The young man challenged confidently. “May the best Jedi win?”

“That statement still stands,” you affirmed, not skipping a beat.

A smirk pulled at the corner of your mouth.

“Show me what you got…

…Chosen One”

Anakin took this as his cue, kicking off with a running start before pouncing at you from a few meters away with a hard strike toward your rib. He slowed his surroundings with the Force, observing you launch your blade upwards to block the powerful blow with both hands squeezed on the hilt, releasing a hiss from the impact.

You thrust his blade down with your own as he decided to swiftly use that momentum to his advantage. Quickly, he swung his saber back around to strike you down the center. Flinging your weapon up, you deterred the attack with the horizontal posture of the blade. Again, Anakin watched as you slid that blue glow with the hammering snap of your saber toward the floor.

But the blue-eyed man only viewed this as another opportunity.

He twirled on his heel to boldly strike at your other flank. Yet, despite his keenness, you managed to successfully snag this attack too, a straightforward inversion of your blade standing before his path.

The simplicity sparked a flicker of annoyance within the young Jedi. His greatest strength was using his opponent’s attacks against them. And you were making the employment of that particular strategy very difficult.

He continued his strikes with more fervor this time, hoping to break your reinforced wall of defense and coax you into launching your own, fissuring swings. But no matter how much he Force-energized each crack, no matter how rapidly he recovered from your nimble deflections, he couldn’t seem to break your stoic face or weaponized fortification.

“Are you gonna try to fight me at some point?” Anakin drew out as he bounced back from your diverting blade’s assertive whip against his saber, forcing him nearly fifteen meters away.

Like a dance, the two of you melted into a circling prowl, using the space to breathe. Each step enlivened Anakin’s impulse to continue the duel as he surveyed your mimicking movements to keep the eager Jedi a sufficient length away.

“I thought you wanted to work up a sweat?” You exhaled innocently while continuing your slinking annular shuffle.

Anakin felt an intense heat billow behind his eyes as his confident yet teasing nature began to splinter into a more soured tone. Usually, he was not so affected by such innocent pokes. In fact, he found these moments regularly enjoyable, adding a taste of lightheartedness to the typically tense beats of combat.

But his mind was swirling all day with images of the past.

Images of failure.

Of failing others. Of failing the world.

His mother.

And in this transient instance, for some unknown reason, it felt like more than he could presently handle.

But before he could respond to your directed quip, another voice echoed into the training room from the dojo’s double gray doors with L-shaped mustard accents, having whooshed open without him realizing in the last few minutes.

“Anakin doesn’t like it when opponents go easy on him,” Obi-Wan commented as he entered his peripheral.

The peeved Jedi noticed your eyebrows raise in contest across from him at the Master’s words.

“I’m not going easy on him,” you clarified while leaning into another step along the arbitrary sphere of distance you and Anakin delicately maintained.

“Then I take it this is going well?” Master Kenobi announced to no one in particular.

The curious, bearded Jedi strolled to the side for a better view of the duel in discoidal stasis, lowering his form to the edge of the nearest Mahogany viewing bench before crossing his legs in humming anticipation.

“Yes, it is,” Anakin gritted. “In fact, I was just about to find an opening.”

“No you weren’t,” you deadpanned.

Anakin huffed at the truth of your statement as his heart rate quickened. He was beginning to grow tired of your overconfident comments and steadfast defense. He had too much on his mind and didn’t need someone else pointing out his ineptitude.

“Sparring isn’t always about the offensive,” Obi-Wan remarked casually to the atmosphere. “Sometimes it means allowing others to take the initiative for the duel to progress.”

“Tell him that!” You exclaimed with a sigh. “I feel like I’ve been fighting a training droid for the last half an hour.”

Suddenly, something in Anakin snapped. His meticulously bubbling frustration and annoyance had whipped into a flash of pure, blistering anger.

He reacted quickly, propelling himself out of his steady march with a shout as he determinedly bolted toward your figure, most of his connection to his surroundings stripping away to pyre his vehemence.

The Chosen One’s eyes narrowed on one objective and one objective alone— securing an opening.

He neared your form within a second, blade aimed at your shoulder and vision pinpointed like a laser on the curved dark gray spot of your smoothed-over cloak. He could almost smell those memorable industrial fumes of the shop from which you both purchased it, hovering staunchly above the seams as he neared your form.

But as his saber split down with a low whine to claim final victory, your own weapon sprung to life, knocking the blade out of its path and down toward his feet in a buzzing blare.

Anakin heaved his plasma sword up, revving for another turbulent swing as he let out an indignant grunt. His eyes were still locked on the same shoulder when it suddenly spun from sight in a blink. Out of nowhere, an abrupt blazing heat graced his opposite cheek like a near brush with a welder.

Registering the sensation, Anakin whipped around, searching for your figure only to find you stood behind him, sheathing your saber before clipping it to your belt with a clink. You trekked toward the somewhat stunned Jedi, a conflicted stitch tweaking your brows as you finished your approach.

Once you reached him, Anakin felt you tenderly grab his open hand, pulling it free and flipping it over to unlatch his palm. The young Jedi observed you raise your other hand, wrapped in a loose fist, but not for long. It hovered about his hand for only a moment before releasing into his grasp a couple strands of chestnut hair, lightly soaked in your sweat that perspired from head to toe, and perceptibly singed black on one smoky vestige.

Anakin stared at the strands, embarrassment prickling each finger pad as he tried to keep his expression neutral.

That was, until your hands met his.

You closed his fingers into a gentle fist, encouraging him to clutch the locks as softly as their texture.

He gazed up at you, taking in your soothing silver eyes and worried smile as an aura of concern leaked from your being like a latched wire. Swimming like loose electricity from your palm, into his.

“We need to talk.”

—

As you gently led Anakin to one of the training room’s far corners with a soft hand on the back of his elbow, your being was steadily flooding with unsettling disquiet, permeating throughout your circulatory system.

You had noticed fairly quickly, how Anakin’s chagrined eyes subtly shifted at your troubled words toward his former Master, who discernibly observed the scene unfold before him with a knowing shake of his head. Skywalker still internalized Kenobi’s judgments, including the ones that accompanied a perennial frown, you realized. And from his unsurprised expression, it seemed that Obi-Wan had observed these same alarming habits at some point in his life as well.

It was evident that the Master’s cavalier comportment further confirmed your suspicions— that they had not been fully addressed.

At least, not in a way that Anakin may have fully understood.

You noticed it again today, just before the spar began. Anakin, trapped in his own little world within the confines of his expansive mind. Whirling his saber vacantly with muscle memory akin to twisting one’s hair to pass the time. Within those few moments, while internalizing the satisfying stretch of your hamstrings as you prepared for the duel, you couldn’t help but sense the waves of emotion that rolled off the open-hearted Jedi.

Amusement, annoyance, frustration, hopelessness.

And most notably, rage.

You could only guess what thoughts were running through his head. You’d probably only scratched the surface of his internal struggles when he revealed some of them to you a few nights ago. But with time to reflect, you now wondered if that grief clouded his mind too strongly. Shielding him from understanding your words, or even the guidance others may have bestowed upon him in the past regarding this very issue.

You welcomed theories to invade your mind, consume your thoughts, and give you a moment of escape.

Focusing on this small blip in his signature proved far more attractive, more manageable than the vacuum your mind produced in other activities, including your studies in the Temple Archives. Even that distraction manifested as inadequate as you tried to break from your inner affliction rooted in Qui-Gon’s death. You’d spent countless hours flipping through Ahsoka’s notes, shuffling through holobooks filled with complicated galactic developments, trade agreements, alliances, controversial political figures, but nothing seemed to center you.

Nothing seemed to stop his face from appearing when your eyes closed. Even momentarily.

Even when you blinked.

Nothing, well, except for this.

Except for doing what you were made for.

Focusing mind, body, and soul on The Chosen One.

So you dove into the murky waters of this puzzle, only hinted at in your short time together.

The connection drew your memory back to that frenzied escape from Hoth. When you, Anakin, and Obi-Wan stood unified in an Aegean sphere of incandescence against the monstrous Wampan threat. You remembered, the three of you exchanging teasing jabs as you slashed down each beast with agile grace.

But as you dug deeper into that moment, the inner turmoil you sensed from the Chosen One only moments ago now suddenly felt very familiar.

And very alive.

It was Obi-Wan’a quip at Anakin’s apparent lack of humility that struck a similar, irate chord within the young Jedi. And in his frustration to verbally defend himself, he took an easily preventable blow to the face.

Withdrawing from your mind, you glanced up at the healing reddish-brown cut that stretched across his upper cheekbone. You drank it in as you continued to lead him toward the training room’s far wall. While you lacked the time or center of mind to acknowledge it then, you felt it necessary to address now.

You felt for Anakin’s past struggles. You really did. And deep within your being, you fervently believed that the swirling emotions surrounding his mother’s passing and childhood enslavement were justified. Those were deep, crimson scars that would take many years to stitch together. To heal. You yourself had only just begun that journey of loss with your own Master. You were still unable to fully pull away from the initial shock and amplified emptiness felt from learning of his passing.

And by virtue of his history, Anakin’s heedless frustrations toward meaningless words and enduring circumstances made you wonder. Did this powerful Jedi even have the tools to digest your guidance from a few nights ago concerning these very situations? Did he hear you about the importance of acknowledging those moments in life, before letting them go?

It was much like the errant thoughts of forceless beings, which you were compelled to guide past all senses for your own mental survival a couple nights prior.

You continued to draw on the similarities of your circumstances, excavating each moment, before realizing one important factor. That you were only able to feel that relief, that suffocating weight lifted, because of the guidance of others.

Because Obi-Wan gave you a little push.

So, you decided to do the same.

At first, as the duel began, most of your vitality was captivated by efforts to sense any blips in the blue-eyed Jedi’s signature.

But that constrained you to a perpetual defense, focused only on thwarting each intrepid blow. It was necessary, to stray from the energy-siphoning movements required to launch an offense that could counter Anakin’s aggressive form, if you were to successfully carry out your own furtive objectives. His style was elegant, technique steadfast, and it took a considerable toll on you to keep your focus on both the fight and any indications that would barely leak into the Force.

But these actions had unintended consequences, revealing that sucking the bustle out of the duel would be as equally infecting as one of Obi-Wan’s elicit remarks.

So, you leaned into it.

Keeping a relentless guard meant less opportunity for Anakin to use one of your strikes against you. A telltale tactic of Djem So. And it generated a number of occasions for you to toss in a few comments to test the waters. So much so, that when you pointedly told a certain, teasing Jedi Master that you were, in fact, not going easy on him, you were telling the truth. Your defense remained physical, but your offense flourished verbally with quip after quip.

But in those moments, as you sensed his vexation reach its peak, your own heart felt darkened. Weighted down like the planet’s gravitational pull as you carried out this assessment of mental fortitude. It was another chip at your empathetic being, flying away like loose debris traveling through the vacuum of space. Another task in protecting The Chosen One further plunged your identity into utter uncertainty.

You were also not going very easy on yourself.

But it didn’t last long, as it appeared that comparing him to an inanimate Jedi training device seemed to do the trick.

In a way, his sudden dart toward your smaller frame hurt most of all. Not only because you had a hand in driving him to this level of rage, but because you had never seen him so easily reduced to this level of vulnerability. Having known him only a week, you already understood through those many late-night conversations on a thousand-year-old space bucket, in the Coruscant garbage pits, and during your exploration of the entertainment district— where he had the gall to suggest orange was not your color— that his absorbent heart and related impatience was, as of now, his greatest weakness.

One you were sure the Sith would use against him, as they had with other Jedi thousands of years prior.

In some manner, it scared you. The ease with which you pinpointed this fragility in the brief time of knowing him. It was true, you had an uncanny ability to connect with others. But not this easily.

Maybe it was because you saw too much of yourself within him.

Or maybe the two of you were connected far beyond the confines of a prophecy.

Maybe, even through the Force itself.

Yet he tossed his connection to the Force aside in his mad dash to win. The ferocious Jedi was so focused on a strike, a successful nearness of his blade to some part of you to claim victory, that he momentarily tossed away any and all perception of protecting himself.

And it pained you, cavernously, the ease with which you blocked and dodged his subsequent blows. They were unstable, sloppy, and fueled by frustration rather than grounded in his connection to the Galaxy.

It left his entire form accessible to a fatal blow.

So, you decided to make your point in a way he couldn’t ignore.

Swiping your saber rapidly across a loose lock of chestnut hair hanging centimeters from his cheek, you allowed it to fall upon your palm to present the suddenly bewildered Jedi, who was swiftly silenced after realizing the damage you could have done.

You allowed your mind to extrapolate any words from thoughts that continued to rush over you as you both slowed to a halt on the opposite side of the training room from Obi-Wan. Your attentive eyes trained on his uncomfortable expression with a gaze wandering indefinitely, much like a youngling who had been caught taking too many sweets from one of the refractories.

“Your anger is concerning,” you began in a hushed tone.

Maybe those weren’t the right words, and maybe this wasn’t the best setting, but you were hoping to get some real answers that weren’t colored by responses saved for his Master's presence. You had your own difficulty sharing internal struggles with your Master, and he was the only other person around. You wanted this to be different.

Anakin’s eyes suddenly shot at you, narrowing in confusion.

“You were the one who told me my anger was justified.”

“I told you, that it’s ok to be angry sometimes, especially when losing someone you care deeply about,” you began in a softer lull. “That is completely different from allowing a staunch rage to get the best of you from impatience and words.”

Anakin’s eyes softened as he began to absorb your observations while his head slightly dipped in discomfort.

“Hey,” you whispered, touching his wrist, hot from exertion, lifting his uncertain eyes back toward you. “I’m here to look out for you. And I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t say that you need to be more patient and not take what others say to heart. It’s gonna get you killed.”

Your exposition seemed to click within the troubled Jedi in a way far different from your midnight murmurings on the Uscru District garbage pit overhang. You watched as he glimpsed downward, following his line of vision to the metal arm whose fingers he flexed in creaking evaluation.

You wondered…

“Did you…?”

“Yes.”

And that was all the answers you needed, the rest you felt through the Force.

Regret, frustration, and something new—

Realization.

But despite this potential step forward, you found it strange that even losing an arm to impatience and anger didn’t lead him to these reflections earlier.

“It’s not that easy.”

Or maybe it did.

You raised your gaze back up toward Anakin, his dejected stare stuck to the steel limb as if he wasn’t looking at anything at all.

As if his vision was thrown into darkness.

“You’re right, it’s not,” you admitted as, once more, you were met with a flood of questions through his countenance alone.

“It’s a task. Of constantly reminding yourself that what I, or Obi-Wan, or the world says to you or about you doesn’t matter. I mean, who cares what everyone says? It doesn’t change who you are until you let it.”

You stilled, observing Anakin’s brows relax ever so slightly. Yet skepticism still colored his absentmindedly agape lips. Even without connecting physically, you could tell that despite your statement, he was riddled with doubts. You knew he’d heard your words, but he didn’t believe them.

So, you decided to tell him what you really believed.

“I’ll tell you right now. You, right now, are good. And you, at this very moment in time, are enough.”

Anakin’s mouth closed as he gazed up at you in anticipation, a galaxy of sentiments flaring behind his eyes.

You breathed. “No one is gonna change that. And I’m not just saying that to save face. I mean it.”

For the first time in what felt like a long, clouded while, a smile peeked out from his subtly solemn expression. An air of solace had begun to enter the Force.

It seemed like being heard was what Anakin needed. Someone to recognize what he was feeling. What he struggled with. What he continued to battle, inside and out.

And you were happy to be that person.

“And it won’t be remedied overnight. Remind yourself of that.”

You knew what it was like to struggle with these emotions, realizing that what fed them most was your utter isolation. In a sense, despite being in closer proximity to others than you ever had, Anakin still seemed just as alone as you in these conflicts.

And that dealt another sharp blow at your opened heart.

“Look, I’m really sorry. I pushed you too far.” His shoulders relaxed at the softness of your voice. “I just needed you to see what this frustration does to you. It leaves you exposed. And, honestly, if I was less skilled, your blindness may have done some real damage.

His eyes widened, “I would never…”

“I know,” you rested a comforting hand on his flushed arm as he relaxed. “You would never, intentionally,” you assured, though your phrasing still had unnerved the young man. “But you made a mistake, and I’m just hoping to show you why it’s important to learn from it.”

You watched as he nodded, drinking in your sympathetic and forgiving nature into his own being. The two of you breathed through the stillness, allowing both of your feelings to stabilize through the fine sting of sensitivities that traveled back and forth across your hand, tenderly fastened to his lower arm with the Force swimming in between.

“You know,” he began, as you felt the air around him lift delicately. “I know someone who’d really like you.”

You took this compliment as permission for a more upbeat response. So your eyes squinted teasingly.

“Sounds like they have great taste.”

“Silvey!”

You paused momentarily before turning to the exclamation, still getting used to the nickname as Obi-Wan entered your vision from his place on the lower left of the far viewing bench. “Don’t you need to meet with Master Yoda soon?”

Windu must have told him in one of their Council meetings you’d heard so much about from Ahsoka this morning. You glanced up to your left at the wall-mounted chronometer displaying the time in bright blue symbols before approaching the bearded Jedi, a gradually settling Anakin following close behind as you called back.

“I’ve got some time!”

Quieting your voice, you turned to Anakin with a lighthearted taunt as you both continued your leisurely pace.

“You know, I bet you could’ve beat me if you waited a little longer.”

Anakin grinned at your brighter tone as the last of his worries washed away into the Force. It was, again, much like the thoughts of those clubgoers a few nights ago as, he too, seemingly took your words to heart.

“Give me another chance and we’ll see,” he commented, underhandedly complimenting your skills.

You smiled, a weightlessness overcoming you.

“You’re on.”

—

Obi-Wan Kenobi had seen this before.

Too many times to count.

Anakin had a habit of becoming lost within himself, allowing emotions to take over in place of duty, and logic. But despite the occasional slip-ups, the Master believed that his former Padawan had matured greatly in the past decade. His connection to the Force had deepened while his ties to outward attachments withered with time. From the beginning, that was something he knew the Council was especially concerned about when he joined The Order at such an old age.

Yes, he still made a habit of acting before thinking, much to the bearded Jedi’s chagrin. But he always proved to get the job done.

Anakin never let him down.

However, in the last month, Obi-Wan had noticed a familiar turmoil affecting the young Jedi, beginning soon after the attempted assassination of Naboo Senator Padmé Amidala.

In the days that followed, when Anakin was tasked with protecting the Senator, before traveling to Tatooine and, then, becoming involved in the Battle of Geonosis, Obi-Wan sensed that inky substance Master Yoda felt years ago begin to foam up from the depths of his being once more.

“I sense much fear in you.”

And Master Kenobi was finally witness to how greatly his fear had grown that day on Geonosis. When Padmé was knocked out of the LAAT tasked with chasing after Count Dooku, it was the first time Obi-Wan saw Anakin consider negating his duty for a connection. He nearly leapt out of that transport without a second thought, about to blindly storm after his feelings instead of pursuing Dooku to possibly put an end to this war before it even started.

It was a connection that worried him. That concerned Master Yoda as well. So much so that in those days following Anakin’s recovery after losing his arm, Obi-Wan pleaded with Padmé herself to end whatever bonds were forming between the two.

She reluctantly agreed, and though he trusted the word of the former Queen, Kenobi was still bothered by those moments of them together. Like the glances stolen during the holocomm data transfer following their escape from the Trade Federation home world, or the subtle moments shared out of earshot of both him and the clones during their brief medical supply pickup on Naboo last week.

It was instances like these when the Master Jedi wondered if maybe time would be the greatest teacher. Maybe confronting Padmé changed the nature of their bond. Strengthened it, even. Then, it was quite possible that further interference would have just made the situation worse.

He did finally convince Anakin to stay with him on that LAAT before they reached Count Dooku, who was attempting an escape through a dark, underground hangar. But despite Master Kenobi’s best efforts, those bubbling feelings of anger and hate pushed the young Jedi’s agitation over the edge.

Obi-Wan told him to wait. That they would only defeat Dooku if they faced him together. As a team.

As brothers.

But he didn’t listen.

They were unmatched fighting alone, handing Dooku off like some rabid animal bouncing between prey as Anakin tried to recover from his premature mistake.

And it nearly killed Obi-Wan.

But Anakin’s heart was too ferocious to let that happen.

Rage guided his hand, and his hand he lost.

In the weeks that followed, when Anakin was knighted and while the bombing of Cato Neimoidia temporarily threw them apart, Master Kenobi truly believed that this near-death experience at the hands of a Sith Lord had finally proved sobering to his stubborn friend.

But this moment… In his duel with his defender…

Maybe the Master Jedi was wrong.

Obi-Wan knew Anakin blamed himself every day for not ending the war before it started that day on Geonosis. Yet he worried that no matter the damage that came to Anakin from his own choices, he would never learn.

Deep down, Obi-Wan believed that Anakin never grasped the gravity of his actions because he thought he deserved the grave consequences he faced for each and every one of them. By some strange logic, losing an arm was his punishment for not stopping a war, and it excused him from doing differently.

And much like a flagellant, he dealt his own punishment by continuing to march down this path of self-destruction.

But he thought he had it under control. That he had finally taken his Master's teachings to heart and found solace in connecting with the Force, using the flow to wash away his troubles. At least he did when Anakin was given his own battalion. When he was assigned his own Padawan.

When he was distracted by the unstoppable toil of war.

Obi-Wan thought that his young friend had finally pulled himself together to lead like the great Jedi he knew he could be.

But now, with an indefinite pause as the communications system is evaluated, Obi-Wan sensed Anakin slip back into bad habits.

However, Master Kenobi, always the optimist, thought it would pass. That these cursory moments were just flukes, temporary setbacks that could happen to anyone in moments of peace.

But as his own eyes lay open to that rage take hold all over again in his battle with you, it felt like he was staring through a mirror of time, back when Anakin was first dealing with his feelings of the past as that youngling on Tatooine.

This instant seemed like more than a fluke, Obi-Wan thought. Maybe the new memories made old ones stronger.

So, while he watched you and Anakin re-approach the training room’s center sparring square, despite the new calm he sensed radiating off the duo, Kenobi kept his reservations about the consequences of incensing Anakin too vigorously in one session.

Thus, he did what any good arbitrator would do.

He deflected

“You may want to take a break,” he remarked toward your figure as it stalled, allowing Anakin to settle across from you. “You won’t have the energy you need to spar with Master Yoda should he request it.”

But, instead of acknowledging the inherent truth of his statement, you took the more ‘Anakin’ approach.

“Just wait,” you smirked smugly, turning to face the dark-robbed Jedi in a readied stance as you withdrew your saber from your carefully hidden belt with a click. “I plan to end this fight quickly.”

His head whipped to Anakin as unease tugged at creasing lips. Obi-Wan knew what Anakin was like if someone pushed him too far. And he was worried, for both of you, that you had done just that.

As he heard the faint activation of your gray luminance with a whirl and a fading hiss, his eyes settled on his former Padawan, expecting at best a rumble in his life force, a pointed stare, an annoyed huff.

But what he was met with, was most unexpected.

Anakin’s eyes creased mirthfully as he chuckled. The suddenly grinning Jedi popped you a grateful glance that spoke unknown tales as he unsheathed his own weapon with a bright flash, allowing its blue glow to complete the mirror.

Now it was Obi-Wan’s turn to furrow his brows in confusion. Perplexity surrounding this sudden change turned into intrigue as he stationed an elbow on each of his unfolded knees, leaning into the scene to further analyze this development. As the two of you bent at the ready five meters apart, a gentle smile shared on each face with mysterious calm and collection, peace seemed to be the space’s only purveyor.

Seconds passed, minutes wallowed, and still, that stark rush of power Kenobi always recognized in a duel with Anakin never came. The two of you stood in utter stillness, the gently muffled footfalls of passing Jedi in the outer hall accenting the echo of the wider Temple’s exterior.

That was, until you broke the hush.

“Aren’t you gonna come get me?” You asked in a challenging voice.

Anakin raised a brow intuitively. “You’re kidding, right?”

And just as rapidly sweeping as the pause that followed, Obi-Wan noticed a proud grin flash across your face before your legs propelled forward like lightning, meeting Anakin’s swiftly diverting blade with a slate clash. Master Kenobi observed as you spun with your saber stark behind you to block his first blow after flinging your sword into a whirl.

It wasn’t long after you vaulted over the young Jedi to reach his rear side when the Master noticed you return to old habits, sticking to a well-built guard as you blocked and parried blow after blow from your eerily calm opponent. The persistent offensive and defensive divide split you both into equal parts, like either side of a credit. It was a perfect balance that Obi-Wan knew drove Anakin to madness like nothing else in their own training sessions. Yet, the young Jedi seemed unaffected by this stasis.

In fact, he appeared pleased.

But even this did not fully convince the Master Jedi of any statistically significant change. He was an evidence man at heart, after all. And a few smiles and certainly odd behavior was not going to be enough to encourage him to consider this strange development fully. Obi-Wan would let these thoughts wash away without the proof to fully consider them.

That was, of course, before what happened next.

It was in those moments that followed, that Master Kenobi finally asked himself— how?

What he’d spent years trying to teach Anakin about patience, through connecting with the Force, breaking past bonds, and accepting the ways of the Jedi Order— if not to at least teach him the merits of flow and faith— you seemed to do in just the matter of a morning.

Sensibly, as he recovered from the initial surprise of the next instances, Obi-Wan knew that Anakin was not a changed man. But it did certainly feel like it when he observed this unexpected breakthrough take place before his eyes. It usually took weeks, or even months for Anakin to understand Obi-Wan’s teachings when he was his Padawan.

And he couldn’t deny that it was still like that now.

Yet here he was, demonstrating the equivalent of months of meditative progress after a short, albeit evidently salient, conversation with you.

And oh how Obi-Wan desired to know what you said to him. The words you used, the phrasing, the voice.

What was it about you that finally got one of his teachings through to Anakin?

More than ever before, as Obi-Wan’s eyes locked intently with your figure, he wanted to understand you, deeply. Not just due to your connection to Qui-Gon, but because of your mystery. Your past was an enigma, known only by his late Master, a barren ice planet, and the Force itself. Your notable intelligence, pervasive empathy, and skilled abilities had to come from somewhere. From some experience. Some reality.

The General surmised that, in that short moment, Anakin’s eyes must have been unveiled due to a conversation entrenched in those very qualities that he too began to have a swelling affinity for.

He needed, no, was compelled to know about your past, who you truly were, and how you became the skilled Jedi presented before him.

All of these thoughts and intrigues flowered throughout Obi-Wan’s mind as he observed nearly a half an hour into the fight the subtle mistake in your lunged footing. Anakin redirected your block to the ground before tripping your errant leg out from under you with a quick flick of his own, plunging you back first to the milky wooden-lined tile below.

As the blue incandescents of his blade swiveled inches from your throat, Obi-Wan’s slightly widened eyes were further coaxed by the sudden breathy chuckle that escaped from your lips.

A gentle smile inched across Anakin’s countenance as he held his blade firm. To anyone else, his expression would have easily been excused for simple sportsmanship. A manner that aired accolades of ‘you fought well’ to the opponent.

But Obi-Wan knew him better than that. He knew that tempered grin. He’d seen it before, albeit rarely. The first time being at the Temple ten years ago, during one of their first training sessions. Anakin told him he had said the same to Qui-Gon, but his confidence and fortitude drove him to tell his new Master as well.

“I had a dream I was a Jedi. I went to Tatooine and freed all the slaves.”

And despite the following discussions on attachments, and the importance of letting them go, that smile remained. Primitively, Obi-Wan thought it was just Anakin’s version of a dreamy expression, or childlike wonder. But he learned after years of becoming his friend, that it meant nothing of the sort.

It was hope, he concluded. Hope in himself. Hope in doing the right thing.

And now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen that look in years.

But before he could dive further into what all this meant, you finally spoke up.

Following a few stabilizing coughs with elbows planted for support, you gazed at The Chosen One earnestly as your voice softly flowed from you.

“Now that’s a Jedi I’m proud to defend.”

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